The Five Ovens - lit at last:
I love those stories which start with “The day dawned bright and clear”, because in real life, they often do not, and never when you need them to. As we shuffled out of bed at 5.30 am, eyes squinting in the dim light, and pulled the curtain apart… we were met with the sight of the mighty Panchchuli mountain range, not obscured by clouds, looming dark against the gradually lightening sky. They were dark, because the sun would rise behind them. While we huddled on our small balcony, waiting for the sun to peep out from behind the mountains, we could see other guests also emerging onto their balconies like careful tortoises. Some, like us, were seeing the ranges for the first time during the trip, and their silly grins were punctuated only by continuous camera clicks. Some others, who had seen them from other places, were comparing the sight, perhaps with some loss of fulsome praise. Young couples were already dressed and cavorting on the small lawn below, ready to strike that particular pose at the particular moment when the mighty orb peeped over the rim, like a five-year old checking out an unknown guest in the drawing room.
As the sun appeared, and a few minutes before that, some of the peaks caught the slanting morning rays and started shining silver. Over the next one hour, the mountains yielded up their hidden nooks and crannies to the probe of the sun, till both the snow as well as the rock of the peaks shone bright like metal. Rising as they were against the background of the closer forested mountains, they stood regally white and tall, smiling at each other and their friend the sun, sharing a private existential joke that lesser mortals like us would never catch. We could only salute them.
For the next two hours we just sat on our balconies and enjoyed the view. The sun was not only bright today, but warm as well, so it was a pleasant change from yesterday’s dim weather. We lazed unproductively, got ready slowly and ordered our breakfast in the room, toast with eggs, sunny side up, literally.
The Nanda Devi temple viewpoint:
A morning drive was part of today’s agenda as well, and we drove back a little way along the same road we arrived by, towards Madkote. This stretch, though still fully exposed to the big Ps, was less scenic than yesterday’s drive, and we decided to climb to a viewpoint a little out of town, where a well-known temple also attracted tourists. Personally, I have no special feelings for temples, but the viewpoint was a temptation, and our Punch was happy to bounce around a rough single-track road for half-an-hour in order to reach the desired destination.
The viewpoint, though excellently located, with a wide view of surrounding mountains, was not well-maintained, the rustic path leading up to the gazebo rather overgrown, and the gazebo itself left to its own devices , with lots of graffiti. Today’s youth is more literate, no doubt, but are they educated? The writing is on the wall…
We were carrying tea and chikis with us, and a better place to sip and nip could not be found. The big Ps were framed by green terraced hills on both sides, with the town of Munsiyari at our back, a kaleidoscope of red and blue corrugated rooftops. We just sat there and soaked it in.
Visit to the Tribal Heritage Museum:
We pulled this out of Google maps, as a possibly interesting place to visit, and the small two-block building did not disappoint. It was another matter that the approach road was a steep twisty narrow downhill one, and I was wondering how to drive up this again, but luckily we found another exit to the highway, which gave us a longer yet saner drive back.
There are five major tribes in the Uttarakhand - the Bhotiyas (Garhwal region), Jaunsaris (Jaunsar-Bawar), Tharus (Terai-Bhabar), Rajis (Shivalik hills), and Buksas (also Terai-Bhabar). The tribal way of life has suffered a lot here, cultural erosion having taken place like most other tribes in India, but the displays of household items, wooden and metal implements, musical instruments, food grains and medicinal plants, clothes, traded goods - all pointed to a way of life which was very developed. Even when we spoke to young Kumaon people, they themselves bemoaned the loss of traditionalism, especially in food, that used to be consistently simple and healthy. “Ab to sirf gaon main milega”, they say.
Munsiyari is populated mostly by the Bhotiya tribe. The town being placed on the salt route, trade was brisk here, especially with Tibet. Post the Sino-Indian conflict, trade ceased and the economy of the town nosedived. Now it is mainly sustained by tourism.
By and large, hill people are simple and honest, eager to please, and their behaviour brings as much breath of fresh air as the mountain atmosphere does. But their attitude towards business is very easygoing, like an optional paper in the mid-terms. When we had visited the market yesterday, we had found many shops closed. Why? "Maybe they are attending a marriage." All of them? "Maybe same marriage, it’s a small place." Today, when we popped into a restaurant-cum-woollen clothes outlet after our museum visit, looking for some local salty tea that we had heard of, the lady attending the shop said that owner has not come so no food and no sale! Gujjubhais would have thrown a fit!
We had to drive out of town in another direction to visit the only petrol pump in Munsiyari, and we were regaled by the sight of a local wedding party dancing away in expectation of the groom. This was a bit unusual; it could be because some of the tribes in Uttarakhand still follow matriarchal lineage and other rituals may have adapted to it.
We returned to KMVN for a late lunch - a veg thali and a chicken thali - and then off to our rooms for some serious relaxation.
Tomorrow morning, we leave for Kapkot.
Photo credits: Panna Rashmi Ray
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