Getting up (7.00 am)
Our neighbours, the eight Jat kids, were leaving on a day trip to Jibhi and Jallori pass, and they were up at 6 o’clock, exhorting each other to get on with it. Someone even put on Bhangra to lend some energy to the proceedings. Our friend Kamlibhai was scurrying around, arranging some packed breakfast for them. I lay in bed, listening to the mild melee, while Panna, for once, slept through it all blissfully. By 7.00 am, the contingent had departed, and we also stirred ourselves out of bed. One round of ready made kawa woke us up thoroughly.
Yesterday Kamlibhai had mentioned that this valley was famous for fishing - trout, carp and mahaseer. Floods in the last few years have reduced the number of fish drastically. Apparently, the poor fish get mud in their eyes, don’t see their way clearly, and are probably battered in the fast currents. Nonetheless, it is possible to obtain an online day permit for river fishing, and he had collected Panna’s details yesterday, she being the heroine of today’s play, and we had slated today to be one of lazing by the riverside, reading books while keeping an idle eye on the fly. It turned out a bit differently, but more of that later.
It's a different kettle of fish (11.30 am)
After an excellent breakfast of alu paratha and boiled eggs, Kamlibhai left to arrange the permit, together with some other work that he had. Amirbhai, who owned the tackle and who would also act as Panna’s trainer, also put aside his apron and vanished somewhere. We sat on the kitchen verandah, chitchatting, reading books, and occasionally giving our watches dirty looks as the hands crept forward to 10.00 am and then 11.00 am. We were tense about starting a relaxing day, if you get what I mean.
I was telling Panna that when we are looking for some food on the highway, and we spot a good one en passant, we are usually 20 m beyond it by the time I bring the car to a halt. Won’t the poor trout see the bait while swimming past in the fast moving stream, and be unable to go back and take it? He will not get a bite of bait and we will not get a bite of fish. How will we get even a single fish in this torrent?
Before we could work out a solution, Panna’s permit arrived online and Amirbhai also came tumbling down the stairs. He is a tubby man. In fact, his eight year old son, who popped in while we were waiting, introduced himself as the son of the “fat-fat chef”. He took out his rod, threaded the string, fixed the lure (no organic bait), and we were off, clambering down the boulders to the river’s edge.
As Amirbhi located a slower bit of the river to cast into, we realised that river fishing is no relaxing activity. Firstly, one has to learn how to cast, ie let go of the string timed with the forward flick of the rod, so that the weighted lure reels out. Then the lure has to be reeled in, hoping the glint of the moving lure might catch the eye of a passing bored fish. Then one repeats it again and again. Lot of work here.
But before that, one needs to find a good spot. After some initial training to Panna for casting, Amirbhai suggested that we move a bit upstream where the river was flatter and there might be dead spots where the fish take rest at mid-day (à la Bengalis). For all his tubbiness, Amirbhai showed the skills of a mountain goat, skipping across boulders, with trainee Panna following at a more sedate pace. That she could follow at all is an impressive thing. Me? I gave up after 5 minutes and used the zoom in my phone camera to keep track of them. One needs to be bolder to handle such boulders. I could see Amirbhai wading across the river to the other side, at which point Panna sat down and let him do his thing. Sure enough, he found a dead pool, tickled a resting trout with the lure, enticed the fish to take a lazy gobble, and reeled it in. A half-kilo rainbow trout, one foot long, a beautiful light golden fish with multicoloured spots, which gives it its name.
Amirbhai and Panna returned, the wriggling trophy held high, and pictures were duly clicked. He said that we were lucky because trout flow was pretty meagre nowadays, and this was a good specimen. There will be fried trout for dinner tonight.
Second fishing session (3.00 pm)
Post lunch, we rested till 3.00 pm, after which I continued resting, like the trout, while Amirbhai, his cousin and Panna took off downstream this time, following the river bed, clambering over boulders once again, to the bridge we had walked to yesterday, which is not a joke if the path is so rocky. In fact, half way through, Amirbhai advised Panna to go back, because the going was too arduous, while they carried on further to the small pools below the bridge, to try and catch another for Panna. They didn’t finally, saying that two got away (seasoned fishing tale, I bet). I woke up at 4.30 pm, with the mild intention of going down to see what sort of fishing they were doing, only to find Panna sitting on the verandah, enjoying the sun. Oh yes, river fishing is not easy.
My evening walk (6.00 pm)
I had not had much exercise today (while Panna had too much of it), so I went for a walk in the evening towards the right of the homestay. We shall walk this way tomorrow morning while going to the waterfall, but I chose this because it was uphill and returning would be a pleasant experience, not like the Darjeeling toy train chuffing up a steep slope.
Darkness was already falling and the single track road was deserted. As I climbed, the river fell away down below till I could see it clearly winding between the trees, its roar now muted to a gurgle. I suddenly realised how little we pay attention as we walk. I glanced at the roadside greenery and just stopped in my tracks. Have I ever seen them like this, this close, the individual fronds of the ferns, the small white flowers, the grass strands flowing down, the ancient bark of a tree smiling with its cracks? I just stood there and said: “Hi all.” It may sound silly, but it was the most natural thing to do. That few square feet of greenery had me gripped for a minute. I moved on, looking at the rocky riverbed below and stopped again, unable to move forward. I sat on a culvert and looked at my feet, the tarmac beside it, the glint of the setting sunlight on the asphalt. I gazed across the river at the hill rising on the other side. Had I noticed earlier that there were at least three types of trees, with four different colours? And how lovely the overlapping shades were. My attention was so sharp that I felt could see every moving leaf. My body did not get much exercise today, I stopped so many times, but I realised how deep observation can be when the mind is tranquil, and how close a feeling of belongingness with the world arises when we leave our ego-based worries behind.
Panna’s much awaited fried trout arrived. Unfortunately, they had cut it up due to limitations in pan size, so the splendid display of a full grilled trout that was playing in Panna's mind, was missing. Nevertheless, it was good, she said.
As we were finishing dinner, the eight kids returned from their Jibhi trip. It seems, so crowded were the roads that while returning, they had to walk/run four hours downhill in order to catch their connecting bus from Banjar. The girls were fagged out. But they are made of sterner stuff. “Kal fir Jibhi jayenge,” they said, having missed out on some seeable on the way. All the best to young blood.
Tomorrow we might walk down to the waterfall.
Comments
Post a Comment