Getting up (6.00 am)
And Panna made a new friend while buying biscuits in a shop. Naturally six biscuits were paid as DST (Doggie Sales Tax) 👆
Notwithstanding how much we tell ourselves the previous night that next day is a holiday baba, take your time getting up, we would be up a 6/6.30, around sunrise. On the other hand, we are sleeping before 10.00 pm, so I guess it is not much of a surprise.
Getting up was not just flinging our covers aside. We were flinging aside our curtains while still in bed and being greeted by the beautiful Tirthan, rushing along outside. The water was slightly muddy this morning, because it has rained hard for a while last night, and the morning temp was a snappy 7°C. Morning tea was thus shifted to inside the room.
Our neighbours had been three young men plus their driver, who had just stopped overnight at this pretty place. They had spent almost a week at Shangarh in Sainj valley, at a resort in the hills. While we were having tea, they had already finished their early morning selfies and were ready to take off, driving to Chandigarh and then flying back to Ahmedabad. We envy these young chaps, who go around with their jackets unbuttoned in this biting cold, while only our noses were visible.
Delayed sunshine (10.00 am)
This valley is pretty deep one, and only by 10.00 am, the opposite slopes started enjoying the sun. It would take another hour for the sunlight to fall squarely on our lawn. By breakfast time, the sun had crept down the hillside in front and the temperature had crept up to double digits, and we crept out onto our verandah and had some lovely hot alu parathas.
Meanwhile, Panna took her bath (in our room) and went down to the rocks beside the river and sat there, her back to the sun, enjoying the vitamin D sprouting on her skin. The atmosphere was ideal for a bit of yoga too.
I wanted the sun to come to me, egoist that I am, so I relaxed on the verandah and flipped open Osho at the bookmark. As usual he took up my latest thought and continued...
"You cannot get rid of your ego so easily (said Ashtavakra through Osho). We have been given an ego like we have been given our eyes or nose. But the thing that cuts this 'I' will turn out to be another 'I' who has come in through the back door. So don't try removing your ego. Just watch your I-ness playing and be free."
A lovely lunch (1.00 pm)
For a short, very short, while, we had considered doing the trek to Chhoi waterfall. But you know us by now. Trekking uphill for 1.5 hrs is not our cup of tea. We finally negotiated our enthusiasm down to doing the climb up to the main road and popping into a cafe.
Iry Cafe caught our fancy. No ingratitude here, but after 8 days of Amarbhai's healthy diet, the tongue was demanding some decadence. The cafe itself was pretty nicely done up, with books and board games. Panna, in memory of her fishing expedition, ordered a grilled trout, and it arrived in a form she had wanted her own fish in. I think only now she got proper closure. I had a veg lasagna and peri-peri fries. We picked up a slice of chocolate truffle on the way out. As I said, decadence.
A riverside barbecue (3.00 pm)
Now don't get excited - this is not something we did. As we were walking back to our rooms, we saw this group - three couples, a driver, a kid and a dog - who had set up a barbecue right beside the river and were having a whale of a time. The dog, in particular, was in the water all the time, yipping away, demanding stones to be thrown at her, with the kid obliging without a murmur. (We were reminded of our days in Oman, when our kids were also small, and we would drive out to some waterside in the middle of nowhere and spend the day there.) The weather was perfect. Gradually, the sunlight slid away behind another set of hills, but their enthusiasm did not cool down, and as we retired for a small nap, we could hear their sqeals of enjoyment spilling over the rush of the rapids.
Abhishek Rathore - the story
If you all remember, he is our caretaker for this homestay, a 28-year old ever-smiling lad, who served us with heart. Their house and farm is across the hill in front, in a village named Kalwari. He is married with a small kid, and his parents as well as grandparents are with him. His father had been in the army, so he had grown up in various places in Rajasthan, UP and MP.
His surname Rathore still intrigued me. During dinner, I asked him whether he was a Rajput, and he said: "No sir, Himachali, born and brought up." Further probing revealed they are originally from Rajasthan, with a history dating back to the Moghul period, when they used to engage in battle with the Moghuls regularly. After the warlike situations had abated, their family, being at heart a non-violent religious sort, migrated to the more spititual land of Himachal Pradesh, and settled in a village called Malana near Kasol, around 500 years ago. After a while, some disciples of Rishi Jamadagni passing through Malana, wanted some families to travel with them, and the Rathore family volunteered, travelling to their current location of Kalwari. Interesting history, what?
As much as the places, the people who we touch in our travels are worth knowing better, as they carry their unique stories.
Let's see what tomorrow brings.
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