A sunny morning (7.00 am)
When I wake up at my home in Kolkata, generally at 5.00 am, I know that I am booked till 8.30 am with a fixed regimen. When out of town, the regimen is the first thing I ditch. The mind is a monkey, no? Things that require discipline are the first things we "learn to let go", though the wise owls meant something else altogether by that phrase. Anyway, I told myself, it's Saturday, it's the start of the weekend, many banks are closed today, it's usually party night for a lot of folks, so let's not feel guilty about losing the regimen today.
Breakfast at the first floor restaurant was something we always loved, watching the thick foliage of pomegranate trees on campus. While walking here, we saw our chef Tulsi Ram plucking a huge leaf of taro (kochu in Bengali, arbi in Hindi). Apparently the owner Astha has instructed the chef to make pakoras with them and serve us during tomorrow's breakfast. Now that's the sort of TLC we like. In fact, she also had some sliced persimmon sent across to our room, with her compliments. They were quite lovely too.
A tree falls in the forest (11.00 am)
Back in our cottage, we took up our positions on the verandah for our toasting session. I finished my Osho. The Pah river gurgled along. Birds with long tails were playing hide-and-seek on the branches. A green caterpillar was climbing onto my slipper, a bit confused at the change in terrain. Suddenly, we were assailed by the roar of a chain-saw. A tall dry tree without branches at the river edge now had a rope tied near the top. The rope went across the river, and there were people who had wrapped it around the base of another tree and were pulling the dry tree, encouraging it to fall across the narrow river. The goal seemed simple enough, but what with five people advising each other on top of their voices and the poor tree refusing to topple, there seemed to be a whole lot of to-do. The French Revolution might have been carried out with less fanfare. I was reminded of the philosophical riddle: "If a tree falls in a forest and nobody hears it, did it fall or didn't it?". In this case, too many witnesses - five operatives and two cameramen, the latter being so jobless that they (ie we) spent an hour watching a tree fall across a river. Envious, ain't you all?
Ankit said the wood will be used for bonfires during the upcoming winter months.
Visit to a weaver's hut (12.00 noon)
The Kullu shawl industry is one of the most distinctive traditional handicrafts of Himachal Pradesh. It flourishes in the Kullu Valley, where local artisans developed a tradition of weaving warm woollen shawls suited to the cold Himalayan climate.
Kullu shawls are famous for their colourful geometric patterns, intricate borders and vibrant designs. Traditionally woven from sheep's wool, they are now also made using merino wool, pashmina and other fibres. The craft combines indigenous weaving traditions with influences introduced by artisans who migrated to the valley from other parts of India, eg Rajasthan. It is an important source of livelihood for local weavers and their families, and the brand Buttico seemed to be a leading one. In fact, Kullu shawls received Geographical Indication (GI) recognition as well.
We had asked our manager Ankit whether we could see a shawl-weaver in action. He said there was a weaver setup just five minutes from our resort. We looked at him suspiciously, having had bad experience of the pahadi's estimates of distance. He reassured us that the setup was indeed close by. Tulsi Ram accompanied us, and we soon came upon a small building with the grand signboard: "Prem Shawl Industries".
Inside, there were six small hand-operated looms where four young girls were currently sitting and working, on scarves and shawls. The bobbins flew across as they pulled on the ropes that managed the warp and the woof, with the typical clickety-clack sound of the hand loom. It was literally a cottage industry.
The owner Laxman bhai popped in and we asked to see some product samples, so he took us to an adjoining room where his wife Meera was busy making Kullu caps. Laxman bhai said he was a producer and wholesaler, and his products were bought by shopkeepers in Mohal and Bhuntar. It felt good to see that in this relatively remote location, he was generating employment.
A note on types of Himachali looms
1. Traditional pit loom (Rachh). These are found in households. The loom sits on the ground and the weaver's legs hang into a pit with pedals. Used for high quality traditional garments like the Kinnauri shawl, winter pattu wraps, lois (blanket wraps). The split weaving technique often requires two halves to be stiched together later.
2. Frame looms. Commercial machines that are fully above ground. Used mainly for commercial Kullu shawls, scarves, stoles, and dress material.
3. Narrow strip looms. Usually set up on verandahs, these are floor-seated and used for decorative strips that are stitched on to Kullu caps, jacket edges and shawls. They are also used for making winter mufflers.
4. Carpet looms. These are fixed vertical frame looms. Used for heavy hand-knotted pile carpets, dann (Tibetan seating rugs), and woolen bedding items.
Post lunch playtime (2.00 pm)
There are two types of holidays. One, in which the number of days are fixed and we try to pack in as many activities as possible. The other, in which the activities are fixed and we try to spread then out over as many days as possible. 80% of our holidays are Type 1. This time, we were lucky enough to have arranged Type 2. We were here for 7 days, and there were perhaps 5 activities to do. You do the math.
Today was weaver's day and carom day. We had seen that they had a carom board adjoining the restaurant, and post-lunch, we descended on it like seasoned veterans. Except that both our aiming skills were shot to hell, and if we were talking part in a pistol shooting contest in the Olympics, we might have wiped out the opponent countries. Anyhow, we knocked coins around for some time, declared the game a draw, and withdrew to our rooms in a dignified manner.
I realised later that we had made a mistake in our algorithm. We should have played carom on another day. Exhausting two activities in one day shows bad planning and we might have to pay the price by actually getting involved in pizza-making or rock-painting. We will have to review our Gantt charts, I think.
The day wraps up (4.00 pm)
This is not an event. This is just to indicate that post lunch, every day, we spend some more time in the sun, then watch an episode on the iPad, then do Reiki practice for some time (Panna might do her online work), then have tea on the verandah to enjoy the last hour of daylight, then withdraw indoors to electronic activities (photo-posting, blogging etc), dinner in the room, shared games like Connections, yawning and sleep. This regimen has not been sacrificed till now, and has held true on most days. So, if in a blog post, you see my last entry at 4.00 pm, you can take it that the subsequent activities were as above and "so stipulated", as Perry Mason might have said when waiving his right to cross-examine a witness.
So cheerio, and good night. Don't worry, there IS an activity planned for tomorrow.
Photo credits: Panna Rashmi Ray
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