ROAD TRIP TO KASHMIR-LADAKH-HIMACHAL By Mohan & Shoba

Srinagar – Ladakh – Manali  in 16 Days, over 1800 Kms on road, 7 destinations covering two states, 10 high mountain passes including Khardungla, the world’s highest motorable pass.

SRINAGAR: Kashmir was the flavour of this summer as tourism returned to the valley after years of strife and though one would like quiet and peace on a vacation, for once you don’t mind the general bonhomie and bustle. Srinagar is filled with domestic vacationers escaping the heat of the plains and every houseboat, hotel, restaurant and guesthouse is packed to capacity. Still the crowds take nothing away from the sheer beauty of Srinagar, gently rising, high mountains hugging two large lakes, which form the iridescent lungs of the city. 

Around, the city has grown and spread right to the foot hills, through the old city along the over-burdened Jhelum river, up to a plateau which is Srinagar’s scenically lodged airport among the hills.  A tree lined promenade skirts the Dal lake and is quite the ‘it’ address of the city; every prominent address is a short road up from the promenade. And then there are the Moghul gardens at least four important ones and many others that are part of buildings and mosques. And it is not only the tourists that you see at these gardens, every true-blue Kashmiri loves his walks in the beautifully laid out gardens, a paradise of Chinar (Same family as the Sycamore) and flowering trees of almonds and cherry. In full bloom sometime in March the gardens are resplendent transforming the city to one of exquisite beauty and you know why poets and lovers alike have lauded it. 

Srinagar offers many excursions around and within the city. A cultural tour visiting the mosques followed by a walk through the old city is to travel back in time, garden visits, Shikara rides on the lake are addictive, the gentle gliding of the boat, the views and the reflections lull you into a loose limbed stupor, to wake up to indulgent shopping by other shikaras peddling artefacts, costume jewellery to woollen shawls to locally made apricot chocolates. Your visit to Kashmir is not complete without tasting Wazwan, a multi-course Kashmiri meal, which is mostly meat, based serving up more food than one person can logically consume. And to top it all there is the Kahwa, Kashmiri green tea flavoured with green cardamoms and served with crushed almonds. Some excursions include a visit to the picturesque site of Pahalgam and Gulmarg (a skiing destination in winter) and Naranag, the site of an ancient temple complex now in ruins.

Options for stay in Srinagar are many though houseboats are a popular option. Houseboats are a relic from the Raj days.  As acquiring land was not allowed in Kashmir, the British conceptualized the houseboats along the edge of the lakes, made of sturdy walnut wood and comfortably fitted with baths and pantry. Houseboats are now an indispensable part of Srinagar’s tourism and you will see them lined along the edges of the Dal Lake and Nigeen Lake.  Taj Hotels has a sixty room hotel perched atop a hill close to the Char-Chinar area with spectacular views of the lake and city, while the Lalit is a grand complex of gardens and buildings set in massive estate with 161 rooms, both outdoor and indoor restaurant, bar etc.  Srinagar also has a few well located homestays like the Almond Villa – a beautiful colonial house offering 8 large rooms set on a sprawling estate of almond and cherry trees, just a short walk away from the promenade of the Dal Lake. 

SRINAGAR TO LEH: Srinagar to Leh Via Kargil and Uley: This is a drive of about 422 Kms and is best done with two nights enroute to break the long drive – at Kargil  (205 kms) and at Uley(200) . The first part of the drive on the Srinagar – Leh highway (NH 1D) is though large stretches of valleys, spectacular meadows, mountains all around and almost always travelling alongside a river or it’s tributary.  This highway follows the historic trade route along the river Indus and passes through places like Dras and Kargil which were prosperous towns when trade on this route flourished. Virtually snow bound in the winter months, this highway is maintained by the Border Roads Organization who are seen constantly at work repairing the roads, plowing snow off the road close to the high passes. Boards strategically placed along the highway advise “BRO tips” for safe driving along the highway. Some like “ Don’t be gama in the land of Lama or Driving is Risky after Whiskey” 

                                         
A quick lunch stop at Sonamarg set amidst the famous meadows of Kashmir and from here the landscape changes dramatically – dry and in myriad shades of brown over the Zozila Pass (11, 640 ft) along to Drass for a brief stop for tea.  After Zozila is when you first set foot into Ladakh and there is the tangible change in landscape and dwellings.  Drass at 10, 659 ft is considered to be the world’s second coldest inhabited place after Siberia. We glimpse our first prayer flag adorned Chorten just off the road.  A war memorial dedicated to the martyred soldiers of the 1999 Kargil war is located at Drass. We reach Kargil around 6 pm. Kargil is a somber little town that lies crowded down the middle and scattered on the hillside above and close to the Suru river below. Being a popular stop over, there are many hotel options one of the oldest being Siachen right in the market place. Adequate for an overnight stop with decent food and rooms, Siachen has friendly all-male staff; young men who make their way from the plains of Punjab to work here. 

An early start the next day gives us a chance to stop at an interesting Museum in Kargil which has put together a collection of clothing, religious texts and other knick-knacks carried by trades men during their arduous journeys on the historic trade route through Kashmir, Baltistan, Afghanistan, Central Asia, Sinkiang, Tibet and via Zanskar to Jammu and Himachal.  The drive on this day is through a different terrain, the air is cooler and rarer, the skies wrought an intense blue due to the intensity of light.  Having heard of the almost desert like terrain of this region and its stark beauty, it was a pleasant surprise to see the area dotted with villages and fields of buck wheat, barley and plantations of willows, poplars, apples and apricots. An unexpected stop was at Mulbek Monastery, right on the highway and towering granite statue of Maitreyi (future Buddha) standing in resolute welcome.  

From Mulbek, often referred to as the gateway to Ladakh, the route to Lamayuru in the Zanskar vallery take you through Namkila pass at 12198 ft high and Fotu La, at 13,479 ft is the highest point on the Srinagar - Leh highway.

Lamayuru is one of the oldest monasteries in the Zanskar valley and has an impressive collection of old manuscripts. We noticed that almost every monastery has a snow-covered range behind it as a backdrop and are usually set high on a hill.  Close to the monastery access is a restaurant that serves Tibetan specialties and is a popular lunch stop for travelers on this route. After Lamayuru you encounter the Indus River, revered as the foundation of Indus Valley civilization. Driving along the Indus River, you descend to Uley to the popular Uley Ethic Resort.

Uley Ethnic Resort: Developed in the early 70’s close to the river Indus the resort has modern cottages with attached bathrooms and small canvas huts with common bath and toilets. Set amidst apple and apricot trees, Uley resort right from origin propagated the organic lifestyle of the locals and today with close to 46 cottages, still functions as a eco resort relying on organic home grown food from the gardens on the campsite, electricity produced by mini hydro generators on a campsite that is a model for sustainable tourism. A morning walk along the river, climbing over boulders smoothened over centuries by the Indus flowing over them was probably one of the memorable moments on this trip. 

From Uley, Alchi is about an hours drive and is very distinct from the many gonpa’s we visited on this trip. To begin with it is spread flat over an area of over 5 acres with the river Indus flowing nearby, and considered to be the largest of all the Gompas built by RInchen Zangpo, the Great Translator in the 11th century. The monastery comprises of several shrines dedicated to Manjushri, Lhakang. The temples are independently placed and inside are some of the most beautiful paintings and inscriptions believed to have been made by artists from Kashmir. In the monastery campus you also have Zimskhang hotel and restaurant. A sublime place to stop and soak in the tangible and restive atmosphere of Alchi.  From Alchi the drive to Leh is about 69 kms and the landscape and mountains appear like high mounds of gravely shifting sands, at some places packed as high porous mud hills like a giant termite hills.

A short drive from Alchi is the Likhir monastery; the drive is for 30 minutes through a sandy plateau that takes you off the Srinagar- Leh highway. Passing through an arched gateway with the monastic crest on top, and flanked by two large prayer drums the Likhir Monastery. Also counted among the most ancient of Gompas, the main statue inside the temple is that of Avalokiteswara. Towering over the monastery is 75 feet Buddha with his hands folded in a Dharmachakra mudra.  The last lap of the journey towards Leh is an effortless drive through bright fields and glacial streams emptying into the Indus. At Nyoma village just before you sight the sweeping valley that is the city of Leh, you pass the confluence of Indus and Zanskar, a sight to behold! You herald Leh with the stunning sights of Phyang monastery highlighting a snowy line of mountains, followed by the Spituk Monastery to your right. All monasteries have timing and are typically closed for a couple of hours over lunch. 

LEH:Leh is a curious mixture of development and enduring Ladaki architecture, and has the atmosphere of every tourist hot spot within a wide circle of snow-tipped mountains. Innumerable cafes and restaurants line the deep lanes of the city interspersed with hotels and shops selling Tibetan jewelry to Kashmiri Shawls, Thankas to t-shirts and trekking equipment. Days are abuzz with activity and movement while nights are a hush, softly lit restaurants behind chalk-calligraphed black boards inviting you to grilled trout, spare ribs, pizzas and sizzlers. At a height of 11,500 ft. Leh is low on oxygen and hence proper acclimatization is recommended especially for those who fly into Leh usually from lower altitudes. This is accomplished by complete rest (doctor’s orders) on the first day after which the body is tuned to the rarer atmosphere. 

The city of Leh is usually a 3-4 days stop; to explore Leh would be to visit the monasteries of Shey and Thiksey and also the Stok Palace. For birding enthusiasts a walk along the Indus River for some endemic species is recommended. Visits to the villages close for a glimpse of the ladaki way of life is to understand the regions culture and life in an area, which is cut-off from civilization for about six months in a year. Their life, work, cuisine and clothing are adapted to the extreme temperatures in winter, altitude and pleasant summers. A trek to Stok Kangri and river run on the Indus are options for longer stays. 

LEH TO NUBRA: Driving from Leh to Nubra (100 Kms) is to ascend to Khardungla pass, which at a height of 18,380 ft. is considered to be the world’s highest motorable pass. After Khardungla where we encountered snow on the way down to Nubra and blizzard on our way back to Leh, can present unpredictable weather and the possibility of closure to traffic at south pullu for a few hours at a stretch till the weather clears over the pass. Around Khardungla on either side is a narrow road, gutted by frequent snow and ice-melts, which is tricky and dangerous to negotiate in bad weather. Nubra Valley is located to the North of Leh, its original name was “Ldumra” meaning ‘valley of flowers’.  Slightly lower than Leh, the main settlements of Sumor, Deskit, and Hundar villages along the Shayok and Siachen River. This is army-controlled area being close to India’s border with China and requires permits for foreign tourists from the district administration in Leh.  Some parts of Nubra valley represent high altitude deserts and you can see endless shifting sands and dunes especially between Diskit and Hundar.  A branch of the central Asian silk route used to pass through Nubra and we can see some traces of that even today. For example the double humped Bactrian camels still wander in the wilderness. 

Diskit Gompa, the Samsthaling Monastry in Somour where we stayed are worth visiting, while the walk from the Silk Route Cottages to the Samsthaling Monastery in Sumour is a beautiful walk through leh berry (sea-buck thorn) plantations, charming village houses, chortens, prayer drums along a glacial stream is memorable and highly recommended for nature lovers and birding enthusiasts.

LEH TO MANALI (Via Sarchu, Darcha and Jispa):The final lap of the journey is the most stunning and also extremely trying. Leh to Manali  (Kullu in our case) is over 470 kms driving over 5 passes – Tanglangla (17,469 ft.), Lachungla (16,616 ft.), Namkila, Baralachala (16,050 ft.) and in Himachal is Rohatangla (13,134 ft.)  The drive is adequately done in two parts; Leh to Jispa, 330 kms takes over 10 hours and traverses the upland desert plateau of Ruphso crossing over to Himachal Pradesh after Rumtse, the last village of Ladakh valley at 14,210 ft. The road conditions are quiet bad though you can see that the BRO is continually at work.  At one point after Pang, the drive weaves though endless miles of high sand colored moutains on both sides, it reminds one of the play station games where you are required to zigzag your aircraft though closely spaced mountains. The landscape you pass through are spectacular with narrow mountain roads descending to desert roads to velvety meadows that give way to high roads again passing through Sarchu at 14,035 ft. and then a snow streaked mountain stretch that ascends to Baralachala and finally to Jispa on the river Bhaga, a tributary of the Chenab – one of the main rivers that feeds Punjab. Overnight in Jispa was at the Hotel Ibex. The accommodation is clean and comfortable with a hot shower and a good dining facility. 

An early start on the next day for the final sojourn Jispa to Kullu covering 150 kms was the most tiresome part of the journey. Travelling though scenic mountain terrain driving over innumerable glacial brooks flowing over the very roads we were driving on, we made a quick drive upto Rohtang, the first mountain pass on the picturesque Pir-Panjal range of Himachal.  Rohtang at a height of 13134 ft. is just a couple of hours drive from Manali, a delectable draw for the domestic tourists who arrive by the droves to catch some snow and also for activities like skiing, yak rides or just photo-ops. This crowds the rather narrow, run-down highway prone to landslides to a painful bottleneck that can last for a few hours, with a long line up of cars and buses on both sides.  We heard harrowing tales of how it took some people 7- 10 hours to clear the route, we cleared the jam in about 4 hours thanks to some help from the army but by the time we reached Neeralaya our retreat for the next 3 nights in Kullu it was past 4 pm. Having been in a Innova from 5.30 Am to 4 Pm in the evening, arriving at Neeralaya was hailed with much eagerness and passionate assertions about how none of us will move out of the hotel for the next three days. 

Neeralaya is far from the crowds at Manali, it is in Raison between Kullu and Manali where all the orchards are situated on the bountiful banks of the river Beas. A small retreat of three cottages with extensive lawns and fruiting trees of plum, apples and apricots – Neeralaya is restful and private. Ideal for families or friends travelling together so that each cottage (of 2 bed rooms or three bed rooms, lounge, pantry, dining and sit-out) can be a personal abode. There is something therapeutic about rivers flowing close by as for the next three days we walked, relaxed and rested. Ate all our meals in the picnic benches laid our under the trees, crossed the river, looked out for birds, cycled, played TT, stood by the river’s edge while our children tried their hands at fishing – in short it was an idyllic end to a long, arduous yet fulfilling mountain journey. A visit into Manali about 25 kms from Neeralaya was only for an aborted attempt to walk along the crowded market area (so crowded that our group of five had to walk single file) and dinner at the famous Johnson’s café! 

The drive of 560 kms to Delhi was done at a stretch with a cursory stop for Lunch. We left at 7 Am from Neeralaya and reached our home in Gurgaon at 8 pm. Thinking back, though I would not change anything on our program, the only stretch that gave us anxious moments was between Leh and Manali. We named our album of pictures as ‘a trip of a lifetime’ not only because of the distance and destination we accomplished but also for the time and experience we shared with our children. Some moments can never be replicated as certainly as none of us can be 14, 19, 21, 43, 47 years again.  Besides though one may be tempted to drive this route again, the awe and adventure of a first time trip is unmatched

Nihangs & Hola Mohalla

- By Shoba Mohan

Nihang Singhs belong to a martial tradition that was initiated by Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth Sikh guru. Their way of life, costume, training in weapons, martial arts and riding has not changed since the Guru's lifetime, more than three hundred years ago.  Some people believe that Nihangs are a relic of the past whose skills do not have a modern relevance, but most admit that Nihang tradition is a colourful part of the Punjab state heritage. The word ‘Nihang’ is Persian for crocodiles and it is believed that the Guru’s forces fought so valiantly that the baffled Mughal army likened the Guru’s men to ferocious crocs.

Nihangs are semi-nomadic people and attempt to preserve their heritage and tradition by strict adherance of rehat maryada (the religious code of social conduct). They still live in camps called chhaawni (cantonment), eat in iron utensils (batta) and move in formations. Men and women both train in horsemanship, swordsmanship, and in the Punjabi martial art known as Gatka.  During foreign rule the Nihangs fearlessly defended Sikh shrines and the Sikh way of life. In times of peace they travel to festivals and fairs throughout India, staging displays of horsemanship and martial skills.

Meaning of Hola Mohalla : The word Hola, an interchangeable phonetic short form of Holla, is a derivative of a Punjabi term meaning onset of attack or frontal assault. Mohalla has an Arabic root and is a description meaning an army battalion or military regiment marching in full regalia. Though some research sites claim that it is an effort to infuse the spirit of combat / aggression the festive ‘Holi’ was converted to ‘Hola’ which almost sounds like a battle cry !

Hola  reminds  people about the tradition of meaningful festivity, and displays the valour inculcated in the Sikh community by Guru Gobind Singh, who took to armed struggle against tyranny. The Shivaliks with the temple of Naina Devi form an impressive back drop for this festival which is preceded many other traditions that span a few days before the actual Hola Mohalla. Massive processions of Nihangs in costumes and color of their sect make their way to Anantpur Sahib, saffron flags hoisted atop every vehicle and the tradition of langar, voluntary community meals are set up all the way to the venue to feed the pilgrims and the devout. 

The third day of the Hola Mohalla coincides with Holi and entirely belongs to the Nihangs, who begin their preparations on this day very early with a bath and prayers. A large number of spectators gather around the place where the Nihangs prepare phenomenal quantities of a concoction of cannabis, milk, almonds, sugar, and other nuts, to be served as pershad throughout the day.  Dressed in new saffron or deep blue robes, the Nihangs move from their chhaawnis led by horsemen beating nagaras (drums). Armed with their traditional weapons, the Nihangs pay obeisance at the historic Gurdwara Takht Keshgarh Sahib ( at Anantpur ) and proceed towards Charan Ganga stadium for the performance. Though the festival itself is a three-day affair, the procession of devotees carries on for a full week, and hundreds of families come in trucks from as far as Calcutta and Patna, Gwalior and Nanded.

A mohalla (procession) to symbolise liberty, freedom, bravery and wisdom is a large part of the celebration. Once called  Guru di ladli fauj (the Guru's beloved army) the Nihangs are the main attraction of the present-day Hola Mohalla celebration. In what appears to be an effortless ( if a bit chaotic )  management the Punjab police and traffic police manages an exodus of close to two lakh people, add to this horses, elephants, tourists cars and buses, bikes and ‘maruts’ it looked like a movie set gone haywire but the program began on schedule at 2 pm.

Colours of the Nihang costume, bedecked horses and elephants , mock battles and martial arts display  ( Gatka ) take up most part of the three hour fest, all the while cheered by an audience chanting in unison – ‘Bole Sonihal”. The most exciting event which had the crowds roaring was when the Nihang’s  displayed their riding skills. Even we, a group of slightly ‘angrez’  could’nt resist going out to the field for a closer look. Racing the wind on Kathiwadi or a Marwari breeds tent pegging, riding standing up and even riding two horses at once were some of the feats displayed. Continuous procession of Nihangs  some who look like war lords seated on pick-ups and suv’s accompanied by some seriously armed followers kept up a steady procession ,  others  on the field put up displays of mock fights with spears, swords and knives. By the end of the three hours , the Charan Ganga stadium an elliptical field of over 10,000 sq. yards  with a seating capacity of over a lakh resembled a battle field enveloped in a cloud of dust, sounds of nagadas ( drums ), chanting and all the breathless cheering from the audience.

It must be added at this point that except for a massive traffic jam ( which we were unaffected by , thanks to our friend Harkeerat’s connections and meticulous planning ) the entire program was completely without incidence – consider this that there is palpable rivalry among various Nihang sects,  a lot of them especially the elders seemed high on cannabis,  the sheer display of machinery strength in terms of sten-guns and AK’s and the swelling crowds was intimidating. To recommend this as a program for inbound tourists would require a huge amount of co-ordination, extensive briefing and possibly a strong disclaimer.

For more images click on the picassa link here :

https://picasaweb.google.com/shobatsm/HollaMohallaMarch202011?authkey=Gv1sRgCJyd-dO3-IvdrgE

Anantpur Sahib a part of the Panj Takth – one of the five main Gurudwars revered by the Sikhs is an important pilgrimage site as this is where the Tenth Sikh Guru, Guru Gobind Singhji initiated the principles of Khalsa and its self-sacrificing, brave and castles fellowship. The Gurudwara here is  Keshgarh Sahib.  

Chamkaur Sahib :  Not far from Anantpur Sahib also in distt. Rupnagar is Chamkaur Sahib that houses the Gurudwara Katalgarh Sahib. This is where Guru Gobind Singh is said to have alighted and used it as a citadel from where two of the most important battles against the Imperial army was fought.  

Fatehpur Sahib near Sirhind is a complex of several important shrines or Gurudwaras that are linked to the younger sahibzadas (younger sons) of Guru Gobind Singh. Located about 40 Kms from Chandigarh and marks the sad site of the execution of the two younger sons of Guru Gobind Singh in 1705 ordered by  Wazir Khan of Kunjpura, Sirhind.   

Hoshiarpur  & Citrus County :   I mention the above three Gurudwaras as they are historically connected and also can be placed in programs between Chandigarh, Hoshiarpur and Amritsar for an intensive itinerary of Sikh Culture with or without  ‘Hola Mohalla’.  

Hoshiarpur District was once an extensive district of Punjab that also included some parts of Himachal. Today an affluent farming zone district head quarters,  Hoshiarpur is a 45 mins drive from Phagwara ( closest rail head on the Amristsar Shatabdi Route ), 2 hours by road from Amritsar and about 5 hours from Dharamshala, the district borders Himachal on one side and has extensive fields of wheat, mustard, poplars etc.  

Citrus County is the personal farm of Harkeerat Singh and his wife Jasleen who own a hundred acres of Kinnow farm in the vicinity of their estate. One of the pilot Farm Stay projects to be approved by the Punjab Government  Citrus County offers accommodation in 9 air-conditioned tents and 3 large Suites in the main house. Run is a very personal ‘welcome to a large house’ fashion Harkeerat and Jasleen put in a lot of effort to offer a warm and friendly experience. Packed meals on picnics, walks in the farms, tractor drives, exploring a jungle of kikkar ( Acacia Nilotica)   and visiting a wetland not far from Hoshiarpur are some explorations that are possible.  http://www.citruscountyfarmstays.com/ . Not really luxury at the moment, Citrus County is presently working on some upgrades which would place it among the best of the farming homestays that are being encouraged by the Punjab tourism.    

Shoba Mohan Based on conversations with the highly informed  and ‘proud to be a Sikh’ Mr.Bhagawant Singh ( Harkeerat’s father ) and information available on sikiwiki.com , allaboutsikhs.com

Route Check to Ramathra : the fort, the country side and the lake

  

By Shoba Mohan

The above line is taken from Ramathra’s earlier brochure and this simple line attracted me to make a quick trip in 2007. Ramathra Fort now has a brilliant new brochure, but the fort, the country side and the lake will always be Ramathra’s foremost attractions. 

An important factor when proposing a destination hotel and an experiential stay is the routing. And on a quick trip to Ramathra, this is the reason I took my hand around my head to touch my nose , so to speak.

Shatabdi to Agra on a crisp winter morning from the ever bustling New Delhi Railway station was my choice. There was the train on time, the typical Railway signages indicating the coach number - an unblinking red. The train was on platform number one, on time.... so there I was on my seat, reclining and content to snooze. Two hours later, I woke up to be told that the train was still on Platform No 1, New Delhi Railway Station ! The reason; a train collision near Mathura when some police officers pulled the chain to re-capture a runaway convict. An express train made an unprecedented stop, only to have another train literally cut into its last few coaches. Causalities were many and the sight we passed on the now clear tracks was terrible.

Agra to Ramathra took me a little over five hours, including a much appreciated lunch stop at Rajasthan Motel in Mahua. Saag, Tandoori Roti, Tadka Dal and a raita of crisp cucumber in creamy, fresh yoghurt from the local gaushala ( cow shed ) – allow me to list this as one of the attractions enroute.

At sunset, Ramathra Fort stood in quiet welcome while Ravi and Gitanjali received me with a much needed cup of tea. That night, dinner and drinks were under the stars - the night soft and silent, the stars twinkling close enough to touch, the air fragrant with some known flowers and numerous other unknown scents. Finally dropping off the mind cliff into a dreamless sleep.... to wake up to the soft “towee” of a rufus treepie just outside the window of my suite, all this in a day’s work ! I can now understand why many of my friends envy what I do.

The outdoors and outside overwhelm you in Ramathra – the fort itself, the mute crumbling buildings inside waiting their turn at restoration, the stairs upto the ramparts, views of the lake and the country once there, walking trails around and upto the fort, watching birds from hand paddled boats. It was only in the morning that I took in the interiors of my suite , the warm colours of the upholstery, the attentive amenities, candles and the lighting - all a part of the cheerful suite, one of the six new suites that Ravi and Gitanjali restored last November. Two of the upstairs suites are a statement in luxury - space, light and views, out-door bath, shower and a terrace overlooking the vast expanse of the countryside around. 

Return was relatively trouble free, driving about 4 hours to Jaipur Railway station to connect to Ajmer Statabdi for New Delhi. Getting off at the Gurgaon Railway Station to reach home even before the train would have crossed the outer into New Delhi precincts was a personal triumph !

http://www.ramathrafort.com/

Travelling in Rajasthan amidst drizzle and downpour : Part 2

By Shoba Mohan

Jodhpur was a quick stop to explore Ras Haveli, eat Mirchi Vadas at TeepSa’s, have an immaculately brewed Darjeeling at the Umaid Bhawan and make it to Chhatra Sagar at top speed. Ras Haveli is Jodhpur’s latest intrigue - a classy and contemporary new boutique hotel built at the foot of the towering Mehrangarh Fort. Auto Rickshaws painted blue are assigned to pick you up from the city centre right into the Haveli gates, but not before you are overwhelmed by the narrow and scruffy , colourful and commercial lanes of the old city.

A late lunch at Chhatra Sagar as always was a meal to cherish over a lively conversation of which all I remember is bursting into peals of laughter. Fort Barli over two hours from Chhatra Sagar was our next stop, reaching there well after the sun was set. Aniruddh Singh and his family’s warm welcome and offer to stay the night was most tempting . However Shahpura Bagh was on the agenda for the night. On reaching, all we managed was a brief hello and hit the snoozers in our assigned suites.

Next morning began early to try and catch the total solar eclipse, and though we had a fantastic vantage on the terrace of Nahar Niwas, the cloudy sky barred the spectacle. However tea and time spent with Sat overlooking the verdant Shahpura estate, spotting birds was time well spent. Exploring the streets of Shahpura town on foot was great fun, the festival of Rakhi ( this is India’s brother’s day ) was coming up and shops displayed arrays of colourful strings ( much like friend ship bands that sisters tie onto their brother’s wrists ) with oodles of “bling”. The market street was abuzz - silver shops, shoe stores that custom made shoes on the spot, shops selling coloured sweets dripping with syrup , people everywhere buying, selling, chatting. Anjali practised her bargaining skills with the corniest of Hindi lines I have ever heard. In Shahpura over a pair of anklets, she put forth her arguments in “Sindhi” and the amused silver smith conceded to a small discount .


Chittorgarh, a two hour drive from Shahpura Bagh was the first capital of Mewar and remained so for several centuries. It is one of the oldest and most extensive forts of Rajasthan, dating back to the 7th century. The story of Rani Padmini of Chittor is as well known to school children as Rani of Jhansi. For me the victory tower of Chittorgarh symbolised Rajasthan ( thanks to history lessons in school )more than anything else. Sadly Chittorgarh is relegated to being an en-route stop over which is why you won’t find many quality hotels here though hotels like Castle Bijapur and Bassi Fort offer Chittorgarh as excursions.

The drive from Chittorgarh to castle Bijapur was a spectacular ( which is another route I would love to cover on foot ) – the terrain green , with gently undulating mountains, dotted with quaint unspoilt villages. Castle Bijapur comes recommended many times over by several friends in India and abroad and I am glad I made it here. The stories recounted by Rao Narender Singh if it were not so hilarious would really be a lesson in enterprise and hard work. Like I said we fed on stories and food on this trip !

A few routes on this trip are etched in my memory : Udaipur-Kumbalgarh-Ranakpur; Chhatrasagar to Fort Barli ( Bijaipur ); Chittorgarh to Castle Bijapur ; Kota to Bhainsrorgarh. Rajasthan feared for its hot, dry and relentless summers was transformed with the first sign of rain. Every mound and mountain was coloured green, little rivulets filled over, dry river beds came alive and the light from the cloud filled sky bathed the landscapes and cityscapes in ethereal light. Above all there was the talk of water and lakes everywhere, anecdotes and stories were about water – of harvesting it, conserving it, offering special prayers for it.

From Chittorgarh we headed direct to Bhairon Gali in Kota to shop for the gossamer thin Kota cotton sarees. And I must admit we were out-bargained here. The wily shop keeper said plus now and minus later and finally after we had paid up realised that we had paid exactly what was mentioned on the price tag !

Kota came as a surprise to us, well known as a educational and business hub – the town was a melange of old houses along the Chambal river, large tree bound estates which housed heritage hotels , and modern houses and factories spilling over unending boundaries. The day ended at the Kota Railway Station waiting for the August Kranti Rajdhani (delayed due to the rains ) which Anjali was booked on to take her to Mumbai.

It was Bundi, I was bowled over at first sight. Arriving late in the night, the fort was gloriously lit and formed a breathtaking background to our hotel for the night, JP’s Bundi Vilas – a haveli set at the end of one of the old town’s serpentine “gullies” painstakingly renovated into a seven room mid-range hotel and enthusiastically run by the family.

Next morning from the terrace at Bundi Vilas the fort looked shower fresh and enticing. We headed for the briefest of introduction to the fort , of particular interest to us were the Bundi miniatures at Chitrashala and came away discontent, a silent promise to return.

The final destination on this trip was Bhainsrogarh – in many ways a place I would design as the ideal last stop - a place to revel amidst nature, the Chambal River meandering close by. We actually beheld the overwhelming sight of clouds rush in bringing rains and pass by as we stood mesmerised on the veranda leading out from our room .

An unexpected excursion was to the Jawahar Dam on the Chambal and a sunset visit to Garodia Mahadev , a temple perched on a rocky outcrop of the Aravalis, where the Chambal cuts through a deep gorge and literally turns a perfect ‘U’ before flowing into Kota.

Return to Delhi was on the Mewar Express from Kota ( an hour from Bhainsrorgarh ) – just a dreamless night’s sleep away !

Travelling in Rajasthan amidst drizzle and downpour : Part I

By Shoba Mohan

A road tour of Rajasthan this July of 2009 revealed two things – the exceptional beauty of this state in the rains (especially for those like me who are used to the state’s stark winter-scapes ) and that travel was a delight when you have a companion or two, all passionate travellers.

Anjali ( Swaswara ) and I began our journey on the Mewar Express from Nizamuddin Railway Station arriving into Udaipur City. What looked like an impossible itinerary in the beginning was accomplished in totality with very few omissions and changes, however I must admit to uncharacteristic slack timing.

The first drive between Udaipur railway station and Dungarpur took us by surprise. For a state that was lamenting a dissatisfying monsoon, the landscape around us for most part of the two hour drive was an abundance of green.

As we drove into Udai Bilas Palace with a rain cloud in tow, we were rewarded with the fulfilling sight of the Palace snuggling amidst lush trees, the infinity pool effortlessly merging into the lake. Lunch and a quick tour of the palace later, it was time to explore the treasures of the Juna Mahal , a 14th century fort which is where the ruling family of the Guhilot Rajputs resided before moving to the current Palace in the 17th century. The multi-level courtyards, living rooms and public areas including the frescoes and wall art in this palace have been preserved as a museum and one can explore independently aided by signages and carefully sourced information. With some time in our hands we also walked through the old town of Dungarpur, the clean narrow lanes with houses brightly painted in shades of green, blue, pink. Dungarpur is famous for its artisans – stone cutters who sculpt various figures and relief plaques in the blue-grey “pareva” stone that is quarried locally.

Our next stop on this tour of South west and central Rajasthan was Udaipur. The city was over-cast seemed set for poets and lovers to break into songs of love and separation. Our first meal with the Jassols at Devra was an unforgettable home cooked affair, infact all through the ten day trip the meals, stories and the warmth of our friends and associates is what turned this tour, largely an exploration of the region into one of great fun and learning. An unforgettable moment was sitting on Udai Kothi’s terrace, cross legged in one of the candlelit alcoves sipping beer and planning a repeat trip with Daisy and Vishwavijay.

Day three and we had an ambitious program ahead. After a rushed visit to Fateh Garh, a modern day fort incorporating elements of heritage conservation, Vastu and sustainable environment, we were on the winding drive to Kumbalgarh, an invincible battle fort perched on one of the high ridges of the Aravalis. A fresh-lime and soda stop at Aodhi Hotel , a hunting lodge of the erstwhile Mewar Royal family is worth mentioning – clean, prompt and green. This was decided as our perch when we return early next year to accomplish a trek between Kumbalgarh and Ranakpur.

Ranakpur was quiet and unassuming, the beautiful temples standing in quiet grandeur while pilgrims and tourists milled around. It was a meditative moment to watch the temple swathed in surreal light, though the sky was dark with thunder clouds. My best memory of Fateh Bagh, Ranakpur where we stopped for lunch is the kindly old gent , Shivlal . Attired in his traditional dress and a bright red turban, Shivlal was ready with a photography tip or two , a set of keys to show us some rooms and gracefully did the job of five younger men.

A surprise visit was to Narlai, one of the fortress cities under Marwar state ( before independence ). Rawla Narlai, one of the many restored heritage forts in the region is unique in its layout. Intimate gardens have softly spilling fountains, while frequent courtyards have climbers and creepers clambering up its walls. Stunning views from inside Narlai are that of a mammoth granite mountain, majestic, bare and brown - changing colour with the light of the day. This mountain has temples, caves and cenotaphs built on it. The village itself is somewhere you could easily lose yourself with a camera. That is precisely what we did and by the time we reached Deogarh our destination for the night, it was time to head for dinner, but not before being shown to our “rooms” – the “ smallest in the palace” where I could have a party for over 40 people !

Our first vision of Deogarh lit for the night was an enchanting sight, and being the personal guests of the family to be wined and dined and showed around was indeed very special. The family home by the lake ( waiting for a refill from the rains ), their vintage car collection, the other private fort – Fort Seeghsagar and most importantly the numerous stories of the Palace and the ancestors , of short sweet beginnings. We just followed the family around – sometimes amused , sometimes awed.
Still listening to the daring acts of Maharaja Fateh Singh who snubbed the British officers by refusing to attend the 1911 coronation, we ended up over two hours late for our departure to Rohetgarh.
On this tour we spent two nights only at Rohet and Shahpura, which is why both were assimilated at a leisurely pace. Rohet is also where Mohan joined us. Driving in Sid’s jeep to the Bishnoi villages in the backwoods, squatting with the village elders at Dhoondli to partake in the opium ceremony, sunset at Mihirgarh ( Sid’s fantasy fort built on a dune ), spending time at his stables – all thoroughly enjoyable activities were accomplished in a day . After Rohet , the trip was a whirl wind of driving, meeting people, eating upto four delectable meals a day and trying to understand the intricate relationships in Rajasthan where everyone seemed to be related to the other.

Journey to the City of the Light

By Daniel Dorfman

When I returned from a journey to India, I was met with as many curious questions as befuddled faces. The most popular one was “why?” and while I often stood pontificating on an experience I had seen with my own eyes (a dentist pulling teeth in a street gutter), heard with my own ears (the unforgiving cacophony of car horns) and tasted with my own mouth (well, this one is really beyond words), I was reminded how far I had travelled , and how otherworldly India is when compared with home. The objective of the trip was to film a city called Varanasi, one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world and the holy site for more than three religions. The fact that I was a tourist in another country provided me the special privilege to gain a unique insight beyond those who have lived there since the day they were born. (Ever notice how few New Yorkers have actually visited the Statue of Liberty?) More than anything I remember, however, is how desperately I tried to remind myself that when I returned to New Jersey, India would continue to exist; the things that I saw would continue alive in memory. A young girl dressed in a ragged and torn ballerina tutu spots me in a passing crowd. She takes my hand and introduces herself. Her eyes are black but they glow like the Indian sun. “Hi,” she says and smiles. “I’m Muni.” “Hi,” I manage to say but struggle to find words that will break through this unusual encounter. She begins to walk. Pointing. Naming. She acts as if we’ve been friends forever. She pulls me into a labyrinth of dark alleyways that flood with sweet smells, frenzied clamor and gazing faces. The farther along we walk, the narrower the streets get and the tighter I hold her hand. Ordinary norms are quickly lost on me. I realize I am as far from home as I’ve ever been. When I begin to convince myself that none of it is real, a dream maybe, she pulls me out of the alleys and back into the light. The sun illuminates a landscape familiar of pictures in history books of a world that existed two thousand years earlier.


“Here,” she says matter-of-factly, “Ghat.” I was standing on the banks of the Ganges River 8,000 miles rom home. The sun burnt away the morning fog laying bare Varanasi, the City of Light. Our unlikely fellowship, a mix of Indians and Americans, ages ranging from 20 to 60, went off to capture the morning Hindu rituals along the banks of the holiest of rivers. There is little to compare with the splendor of the Ganges River in the morning. Bright rays of the rising sun spray across the glittering water and are met with a crescendo of drums and bells, prayers and salutations. Nowhere in the world is the sun received with such celebration as in Varanasi. It appears as though Hollywood (or Bollywood, really) spotlights illuminate the banks like a grand stage where ancient temples, shrines, ashrams and pavilions stretch along the river for as far as the eye can see. At the foot of these steps thousands of worshippers greet the rising sun with ritual bathing, the practice of yogic exercises, breath control, and conduct meditative disciplines. Along the quiet neighborhood Ghats, the women slap brightly colored fabrics against stone slabs with a rhythm that resembles a classical Indian dance. Enormous stretches of the riverbank are covered with the patchwork of elaborately colored saris. Holy men, or Sadhus, lift their painted faces to the sky and submerge themselves in the river, chanting Sanskrit mantras in deference to the gods.

It is in many ways a sight that is so removed from anything I’ve ever witnessed it resembles a beautiful, strange dream; a dream created when the brain cannot decide on one shade and so relies on an infinite arsenal of color and design. When Muni announces she is going swimming, she asks me to watch over her most prized and limited possessions. Before I can even question or caution that I saw a dead floating ox in the water just moments earlier, she hands me her watch, purse, and necklace. She undresses naïvely, takes a running jump and dives off the steps into the river. She swims underwater and waves. She could be any seven-year-old in the world enjoying the splendour of cool water on a warm day, but when I realize that just one hundred feet away the smoke of cremation pyres is rising and the ashes of the recently dead are swirling through the water, I see that this is no average little girl, at least no average little girl from my world.

By way of necessity, Muni has learned five different languages to be most persuasive when asking soft hearted tourists for rupees. The riverbank is her home, workplace and playground, as it is for thousands of other Indians who live sprawled along the river’s twisted ends. In the ancient days, Hindus believe, it flowed in the heavens as the Great White Milky Way. It is believed that the most revered of Hindu gods, Lord Shiva, was persuaded to catch the Ganges in her hair as she fell so the earth would not be shattered by torrential force. And so it is said she plummeted down from heaven to the Himalayas where she meandered in the tang led ascetic locks of Shiva before flowing out upon the plains of India. So too did Muni dive off the edge of the river banks into the water again and again, smiling and singing. In more earthly concepts, the river is considered a goddess and supreme mother. Devout Hindus on the banks of the river cup their hands and pour the water back into the river as an offering to ancestors and their gods. When we visited a hospice for those who plan to die in the holy city, a woman was brought spoonfuls of river water to quench her parched lips until the time that her body would return to ashes and be laid to rest at the bottom of the river.


Invocations of how the Indians consider the river Ganges as a divine force come from every direction up and down the river. Colourfully dressed pilgrims arrived packed in boats. They claimed to have been travelling for months in hopes of finally reaching the city and having the thrill of plunging into the river for a sacred bath. In this city every aspect of human life is brought into a religious arena. As quoted in the holiest of Hindu scriptures, “if only the bone of a person should touch the water of the Ganges that person shall be honoured in heaven and experience what is called Moksha or the freedom from rebirth. ” The steps that lead from the river to darkened inner streets are flooded with saffron-robed Sadhus, who roam free from material concern. When I looked them in the eye, I couldn’t help but get the sense that they were seeing me but not really seeing me. When I took photographs and they looked at the camera with an unwavering glint of humanity and blankness, this further proved it. They were living in another realm.



A pilgrim’s shelter that resembled what I recognized to be a public park was covered with straw and sleeping bags. Groups of pilgrims flooded the tent surrounded by a sea of odds and ends used mostly for marking the boundaries for their temporary homes. Some had just arrived with their families after travelling for weeks. Some were preparing to vacate and continue onto their final destination. The smells of incense, curry and cow faeces combined to fill the air. I met a man who introduced himself by two names, the second of which was Manohar Babaji. When I asked him why he had two names he said the first man was gone. Before making this journey, I could never comprehend the meaning of a single resource that ignites a sense of immense connectivity within the spiritual life of a cit y. Every person on the banks of the river Ganges is a fibre in a huge woven tapestry. Pilgrims come to bathe in the river; families come to spread loved one’s ashes. For an entire society, the river provides life, from the most mundane daily chores down to the awareness of the next life. It is a massive pipeline of energy that the whole city is tapped into. The rhythm of a little girl’s stride is captured in the eyes of a wandering Sadhu or reflected in the rhythm of a woman pounding her sari on the riverbed. The energy of the river that draws tens of thousands of pilgrims to bathe in its waters feeds the flames of the burning Ghats and the promise of an end to the cycle of birth and death.

The river is a place that opened up a singular awareness. For a moment, I was tapped into the pulse of the city and the river’s auspicious electricity, which powers the lives of millions of people who live through it. It is a notion of such elegant simplicity, and as I gaze out into the river, I can’t imagine anything as poetic or real existing anywhere else in the world. For a moment I began to feel the flow of the river pumping through my own heart and veins. On the plane ride home I reflect on how we did not reach all the places we had planned, and how special it is that within the city of Varanasi there is a sacred place at every step.

Daniel Dorfman is an English major at the University of Delaware. Apart from his college studies, he enjoys visiting places like Israel, Cuba and Africa, and writing about and photographing his travel experiences.

Exploring Kumaon Himalayas

By Shoba Mohan

A trip into the hills and valleys of Kumaon with two friends – a photographer and a retired diplomat, both from America was a quirky adventure I was looking forward to after a period of self-confinement.

Getting off the Ranikhet Express at Kathgodam railway station on a cool April morning, the drive to Fishermen’s Lodge Bhimtal for breakfast was planned many months in advance. Doing what I do, that is advising people about beautiful places to visit and stay, when I see brochures that tell me lot but images that say too little, I just have to see the place. And Fishermen’s Lodge was being chanted to me from all quarters……

Driving along the lake, the first glimpse of the building, a grey stone cuboid with broad white lines did not stop my breath, what did was the skimming view of the lake from the deck, built right at the entrance. Shown to the rooms for a quick “wash and change” – I was IMPRESSED.

And as I explored and was shown around, the thoroughness of Bindu and Bunti’s maiden endeavor to emulate one of the Irish bed- breakfasts in India’s ‘lake district’ was laudable . The rooms in colours teal and mauve , the quiet and trained service, small details - white baskets to roll your comforters into, tiny balconies overlooking the lake, a add-on pantry ( god ! she did think of everything ) for young nervous mums , a table on the deck heaving with breakfast, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and, I was tempted to stay on for a nice long vacation ! For those unfamiliar with Kumaon, Bhimtal is one of the many lakes that dot this region of the lower Himalayas. http://www.thefishermenslodge.com/

Almora is alleged to be the first hill station that the British discovered to this side of the north, it was also a popular hangout of the flower power era in the sixties and to this date you will find some returning to explore or couples who met then having stayed on to make Almora their home. Deiter and Geeta, who own and run Kalmatia Sangam are one such couple. With 10 cottages named after Himalayan birds that frequent the Kali-mat estate - Scarlett Minivet, Himalayan Magpie etc. Built in the typical sloped roof cottages typical to mountain resorts, Ka Sa’s cottages are scattered on a sloping pine grove overlooking breathtaking views of the western Himalayan ranges ( on a clear day). Dieter walked the trails around Almora, exploring villages for years and the Kali-mat village treks which is what we did for the next five days are a result of his innumerable explorations.

The three village house are set at about 5-6 hours walking distance from each other and as you walk, across valleys, dive into clouds, ascend terraces, skid down slopes, catch your breath in fields, stop at ridges for a leisurely picnic lunch – I felt I could walk for ever. Fresh air, villagers with face splitting grins, going about their chores, thumping grain , rocking babies, drying millet……. it all seemed so simple, life and living, working and laughing, praying and waiting. Piping hot meals – local vegetables, rice and coarse bread ( rotis ) quickly rustled up by Yoginder our trek guide and his team of two. Sometimes like in Jawalbhanj ( the last village house ) we always dined to our cranky host’s commentary on the rising prices and diminishing fire wood ! Yoginder our hearty trek guide was always ready to arrange tea or to regale us with stories of semi-divine kings of the region. In the village houses, restored to its traditional form and space, beds were comfortable and inviting after a day’s walk, warmed up to a toast by the bukharis and sleep was effortless as was the waking to bird song.

There were some “readers digest” moments too when we were caught in a frightening storm, wind and icy cold rains hitting at us as we shivered up a steep hill to seek refuge in a Shiva temple midway between Kalmatia and Deora. Shelter in a low stone hut around a fire of pine needles could not have been more welcome. There were some “ I give up “ moments too, trying to maneuver a tricky slope on the Binsar walk. We did cheat a bit and drove a stretch, but never gave up on the walking – a minimum walk of 4 hours per day or a maximum of 6 hours was accomplished effortlessly and our gift was the spectacular sunrise vision of the Himalayas on the last day. Only to find that on return to Kalmatia the rains had driven the haze and views of the Vanilla tops from Kalmatia Sangam seemed close enough to touch.

Post all the walking two things I welcomed - a sunset drink with Dieter and friends and Imogen’s massage the next morning. For small pleasures like these I could walk to the very ends of the earth !

The euphoria of the walks dimmed a bit thanks to a confusing drive to Corbett – and Jim’s Jungle Retreat and safari lodge style luxury awaited us. My travel companions couldn’t wait to jump into the pool and I couldn't wait to set off into the Corbett Jungles. Walking on the pebbly bed of Kosi acquainted us with the tiny call of the Copper Smith bird and we saw pug marks of the resident male tiger all along the river bed.
However my wish to see him at the next turn the river took remained unfulfilled. Drives with a disinterested Forest official into the Corbett National Park yielded the rare ( so he said ) sighting of a yellow throated Martin, langurs, spotted deer and birds - a family of wooly necked cranes, a Himalayan flame back, jungle owlet, Shikara etc. What I particularly enjoyed was riding the temperamental elephant Kaleena in the Corbett Jungle. She would stop for her friends, refuse to take a slope, shower us with a stream of saliva……. but as she swayed and rolled amidst the forest trees and thicket….. you are lulled by the quietude, the emerald green of the jungles, vague smells of rotting flesh - may be a tiger kill lying somewhere, informs our Mahout, Afsal. We see nothing….. but the afternoon sun and Kaleena’s rolling gait has already rocked us to contentment.