"Great Things Happen When,
Peaks And People Meet"
~ William Blake
I'm always interested in the lifestyles of folks who live in the mountains. I previously visited Pulga, a little hamlet in the lap of the Parvati range, and discovered that the residents there live a very modest existence while being surrounded by hundreds of tourists. This time, I planned to spend a few days in Tosh.
Going solo for the first time was the nicest experience I've had. Initially, I planned to visit Malana first, then Tosh, and lastly Kasol, but owing to the massive rush for Christmas and New Year, this did not happen. There was some confusion in the middle, so I had to improvise. I traveled the opposite way: first to Tosh, then to Malana, skipping Kasol on the way back. I had scheduled Malana for the fewest number of days since I assumed it to be a rocky town of stoners where I would simply go for hash and return, but it turned out to be far better than I had anticipated.
To be honest, Tosh has lost its calm as a result of the enormous number of visitors (including me) and their mayhem. The location is now filled with commoners' hullabaloo rather than the tranquility of nature. The people are now considerably more business-oriented, and several cafés have popped up in the region. Aside from mountain viewing, neighboring attractions include Tosh Falls and a pine forest. So, instead of spending too many days there, I decided to travel to Malana.
I was excited because I had planned to go by bike from Kasol to Malana; however, the rental prices were significantly higher owing to the festival season, and I had to return it within a day or the charge would increase. So I took the bus, and as I waited, I had breakfast. The hitch was that buses don't travel straight to Malana. To reach the hash settlement, one must first travel to Jari and then hire a taxi. When I arrived at Jari, I noticed three or four other individuals waiting for the cab. I was lucky since I was the last to join them. I got to meet a handful of the other passengers traveling with me, mostly from Delhi and Punjab, who were headed to the Waichin Valley. Among them was Madan, a Malana resident.
Madan, an old man in his 60s, sits quietly in the cab's front seat, paying little attention to us unless he is prompted to speak. I learned that many residents commute to work daily in carpools like these, and from where the cab left us off, it takes around 30-45 minutes to reach Malana village. I was anxious to learn more about the hamlet, so I asked if I might join him (Madan Ji, as I addressed him) on this journey, and he easily consented. He was a pleasant elderly man who shared many stories about the village and himself.
He is a daily wage worker who travels from village to village performing plumbing, electrical, and mechanical work as well as seasonal pruning, I learned as we strolled across the rocky countryside. Depending on the work, he leaves his residence daily at 8:00 and returns around 22:00. He says, "There are times when I go to work and stay at their place and I don't come back." Being a hilly and small area, he is very well known, and many folks welcomed and thanked him as we walked up for Malana. His trips are determined by the calls he gets from the surrounding villages of Waichen, Jari, Chalal, and so on. Although there is not much of a distance between the villages, the topography makes it challenging. The truth is, he still has the gait of a man in his 20s.
By the time we arrived in the village, it was getting dusk. After showing me around his house, he told me that he resides there with his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren. If I can't find anywhere to stay, he asked me to come to his place. To have one was a blessing. There's not nearly as much mayhem in Malana as I had anticipated. However, the vista was captivating (as my images show). The Rudra Cafe is a well-known establishment for its hippie culture, but I decided to stay in the little hostel-style cottages built into the side of the mountain instead. The only issue with the little, comfortable accommodation was the outdoor bathroom, but the view more than made up for it.
Since the light set later in the highlands, I left my belongings in the hotel and took my camera for a tour of the hamlet. Malana is a distant and historic Indian village beside the Malana River. It has its own customs and social mores that are very different from those of the outside world. Madan Ji told me that the locals strictly adhere to their traditions and that visitors are not allowed to touch anything—neither the temple nor other people. Madan Ji recounts a time when people used to run to take a bath as soon as they touched the outsiders. Even after all this time, some of them continue to be upset, and tourists who disobey the restrictions face fines. The amazing thing is that people still follow the laws established by the long-lost legend of Jamlu Rishi, who the locals claim once lived here and created these regulations. By doing this, the residents nevertheless make an effort to maintain the village's purity and sanctity.
The folks who live there have extremely basic lives. Their primary means of subsistence is the sale of logs, stones, and hashish; they also occasionally go to other villages to find work. Young adults are mostly engaged in this kind of job. They primarily live in wooden/stone huts. As night falls, elderly people may be observed chatting and smoking pots on the shrine's sidewalks, while kids can be seen having fun with one another. Photographs are permitted from the exterior of the temple but not within. Even though I attempted to enter with Madan Ji's assistance, I discovered that when I pushed him too hard, he became irritated as well, so I snapped some pictures from the outside. I took a few more pictures of the locals and the kids as I moved around the hamlet.
It was dark by the time I headed back to my room. It was a pleasant day spent with kind strangers. I recommenced my trek early in the morning. It was the last time I saw Madan Ji; he was going to Jari to do some pruning. He requested that I visit him the next time I'm in Malana. I traveled to Kasol by local taxi. My bus was supposed to leave at approximately six o'clock in the evening, so I had plenty of time. I went to Chalal after eating breakfast and exploring the neighborhood market. It’s another little village nearby that's rather popular with tourists. I wandered about because there wasn't much to see or do. It was practically dusk when I finished my lunch, so I decided to head back because the buses would be lining up at the depot.
I had an excellent trip finale. All in all, I would say that it was an excellent experience, especially because I went solo, and the second thing to note is the encounter I had with the Malana natives. It never occurred to me that altering plans at the last minute may occasionally lead to delightful surprises. Pausing till the next journey begins.
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