Gods on Tour and Dreaming in Wild Places

After I had finished writing last night, I met 2 Indian girls, Ani and Akchu (I may have spelt their names wrong). In their early twenties, and with a variety of international jobs behind them already, they were here on a career break too, to get some distance and to decided what to do next. We stayed up late, playing cards and chatting.

I awoke to the sound of the river and the sun streaming in through the window. In the light, the Homestay was as pretty as it had felt in the dark. It is only accessible by the zip wire, and by a path through the woods and a rope bridge to the village about 10 minutes walk away,

A long L shaped wooden building, overlooking the water on one saie and a courtyard on the other (picture below). To get to the first floor where I am it is up a vine covered staircase at the end (pic also below). There are a confusing jumble of rooms - an outside terrace, an inside terrace (below). A sitting room with a fireplace and a day bed, a couple of long rooms with single beds, a dining room terrace and mine with a double bed. Quite confusing, but very rustic, all wood, and uneven floors. It is easy to imagine being holed up here in a big snow storm, cosy and comfortable.

The river runs fast outside, and its roar is an ever present sound track. The valley walls are steep on either side, with only a few houses visible. Up the path is the start of the Himalayan National Park.

I met Elrond (or Raju as he is more commonly called) after breakfast. Spare to the point of being just sinew and wire, he has a nut brown face, laughter lines, big yellow teeth and eyes 2 different colours. His family are from the valley, and he build his first home here in 1978. By 1985 the main house was completed, and he realised that he had enough space for people to come and stay. In 1991, it opened as a homestay officially. He has never advertised, instead relied on word of mouth. This way he said, he can keep it how he likes it. There are 2 sons, one is working in an adventure trekking company in Uttarkhand, but will probably come back here to open his own business. The other, Varun, works as the host.

I spent the morning catching up on the log. After a week of constant go, I needed a little time to rest. There could be no more peaceful place.

As I was writing my log, I heard drums and trumpets. On the other side of the river, I caught sight of a strange procession. I recognized it from Suzys description. It was a local 'God' coming to visit the nearby temple. Or perhaps it was the local God here returning home from visiting the God of a nearby villa. A couple of trumpeters, 3 drummers, and then the 'God' itself.

It was being carried on the back of a man and resembled nothing so much a a big and bulging feathery yellow sack with a bright red hat on. Metal masks adorned it like a necklace. I only caught a glimpse though as it was on the other side of the river.

By the early afternoon, I started to get a bit restless though, so hiked up the village nearby. Some school boys were playing cricket in a flat and dry part of the riverbed. This is a scene that I have seen repeated all over India.

Behind the temple a path led up into the National Park. I followed the river for about an hour, past a couple of olf houses and some cultivated fields with the odd person working. Mostly, I had the valley to myself. Its a beautiful river valley; wild and unspoilt. A few pictures are below.

By a rope bridge high up, there was a cairn of rocks, a bit like up at the Janshal pass - perhaps again a shrine to the local river god. Again I lay down on a rock, drowsed off in the sunlight and dreamt strange and powerful dreams.

When the sun started to dip I made my way back. The sound of drums again echoed round the valley, but I couldnt locate exactly where. I took a wrong turn, and ended up right by the river bank. And then I saw the God - about 20metres up stream crossing the river. I watched for about half an hour, entranced, as the procession snaked its way up the hill on the other side. Eventually it reached an outcrop of rock and was placed down to survey the valley. The trumpeters stood by and gave a resounding blast.

When the procession left, so did I, and walked back to Rivendell. A cup of hot tea was waiting for me, and as night fell, a fire was lit in the courtyard.

In some ways, I really do not want to leave here. Its a perfect sanctuary. A place to recover, to write, to plan for the future. But there is also more to see and more places for me to go, so I shall leave in the morning. I hope though that I will return someday.