Passing Jalori

The Jalori Pass, Himachal Pradesh, India
October 26th, 2008

This article is an excerpt from our week long biking trip through the mountains of Himachal Pradesh. We had just left from our riverside hotel outside Rampur at about noon and were heading out to Manali along the river Satluj. We were six friends on three bikes. The journey was a long one and we did not expect to reach Manali by nightfall.

We had to take a detour from Una, a village just short of Khufri near Shimla. Once past the village we entered a rather deserted strip of half laid road marred by landslides and sheer cliffs. It seemed enthralling and dangerous but this was our best bet at reaching Manali by nightfall.

The route called Jalori Pass touches a maximum altitude of 3233 m above sea level which is the location on the photograph. We drove along the winding paths for hours together before finding a good resting spot by the banks of a tributary. We crossed over the river on a rickety steel bridge that had gone brown with age and trekked for a while to spread our legs and ease our joints. We decided to continue on the path and reached the ascent.

The path was extremely steep and the cliffs would suddenly reveal themselves along the bend making it all the more difficult for us to traverse the terrain. But this is what we were here for. Some good mountain biking! Some experiences on this pass will always remain close to my memory.

The slopes were the major impediment on the route. Infact navigation through some patches was so tough that while ascending we would have to race the bikes to 7000 rpm on the first gear. I think it may have taken us at least three hours just to reach the top most point on the jalori pass which was Sojha. Our hands were tired from holding on to dear life and we were utterly exhausted. We decided to take a break. But it was a risky decision. The sun sets soon in the mountains and the feeble rays of the sun announced the arrival of the biting cold. We had to move on...

Even taking a leak was a great hurdle in the condition we were and we as a thumb-rule decided to stop only once every hour or so! For the task itself took about ten minutes from start to finish. We had to unzip at least three layers of pants to arrive at the thermals and then in the numbing cold... I need not say more... It was a herculean task!

Our target of decent was to reach the small village of Banjar by six in the evening. The decent somehow was even tougher than the ascent! The drastic fall of the incomplete road could not be countered even by the disc brakes on the motor bikes!!! All three bikes were on neutral with their disc brakes jammed and yet we were moving downwards effortlessly! We were scared...

It was one of the very few times we even thought whether it had been a good idea to come this way! en route the decent we encountered a passenger bus trying to negotiate its way along the ascent. The road was packed. We dismounted and pulled our bikes back up the slope! It was not easy. The bikes skid one past the other on the pebble ridden road and the rider had to be helped by two pillion to pull the bike to a suitable patch of flat green. I think now that it must have taken us at least fifteen minutes to pull back!

Once the bus crossed us, it was the limit of our tolerance! We had seen enough and our bodies were screaming for rest. We had to reach Banjar and fast. Manali seemed to be a far fetched thought. We rode like zombies along the rest of the decent which now slowly relaxed its clenched slopes. At last we reached Banjar. Surprisingly we were on time! We rested in a small restaurant and had a lot of the traditional Himachali delicacy called 'Sidu'. It seemed good, but then again anything would have seemed good!



Only after the rest could we gather our thoughts. We decided to stretch our limits and complete the 100 kilometer journey to Manali. And by God, we did it!!!

Over the Hills

McLeod Ganj, Himachal Pradesh, India
September 26th, 2008

I had heard of the Tibetan refuge in India many times. They said it was a magical place and the settings were quite breathtaking. Since I was in New Delhi, I decided to undertake the overnight journey to Dharmshala from where McLeodganj was an hour's ride by local buses.

I reached Dharmshala at around eight in the morning. I have to admit Darhmshala had nothing to offer in terms of experience. In fact, it was much like any other hill station. However it was on the bus ride to McLeodganj that a sense of anxiety gripped my heart slowly. The military cantonment terraced along the slopes of the Shiwaliks and the beautiful War Memorial all seemed to reflect a distinct paradigm shift. At a distance the town of McLeodganj was becoming visible and at first sight I fell in love with it. As the bus rambled along the last few yards towards the town square, I could not help but notice the immense diversity of people and cultures. People of all origins were here to celebrate peace, life, love and God.

I got down at the crowded square at about half past nine an walked along the Bhagsu Road in search of cheap accommodation. Instinctively, I stopped at the most beautiful little cafeteria by the name of Lhamo's Croissant. It was divine. Hot coffee and marble cake sufficed for breakfast. I left the cafe and after a five minutes walk, I was well out of McLeeodganj! It was then that a friendly tourist directed me to some good hotels. I had previously gotten in touch with Mr. Ram from The Kareri Lodge and with his guidance I found a nice place to stay at the absolute edge of McLeodganj. The Hunted Hill Lodge. The views from the large French windows was exquisite. Beyond the conifers I could see the valley drop and the mountains climb...

There was no time to waste and after a quick shower I headed out to the Tsuklagkhang Complex. The Dalai Lama was in McLeodganj preaching his sermon when I reached the Temple. To my misery, I could not go into the Temple due to possession of the camera and mobile phone!

As I walked along the serpentine streets of the hill station many thoughts flooded my head...

There seemed to be something divine in the air and something sublime in the light that gently clad the town. All of a sudden a sense of lightness crept through me and it felt good. The Tibetan structures with their sloping roofs and bright colours rose along the mountain side occupying every small patch of available land within the matrix of winding streets. The sense of urbanity lost its meaning in my head for a moment.

Walking along the streets of McLeodganj, I learnt to appreciate the Tibetans who, in spite of all their troubles were here in this refuge caring for people from all over the world. Tibetan art, architecture, jewellery, music, dance, teachings all flooded onto the streets which were bound on either sides by petite stores.

Hurrying on, I trekked for about two miles unto the neighbouring hill station of Bhagsu. Walking through the ancient Bhagsu Nag Temple through a winding path along the mountain slope, I reached the famed Bhagsu Falls. It was wonderful. The cold, pure water energized my tired spirit with its refreshing spray. I spent about an hour enjoying the beauty of this valley from a small shack below the waterfall itself.

I came back to Mcleodganj by nightfall and settled down for dinner at Jimmy's Italian Kitchen where the live performance was just what I needed to complete the experience! After a swig of scotch in my hillside room I crashed for the night.

The next morning I woke up to the sounds of the birds and the bright daylight flooding through the windows. It was a good day indeed. It was Sunday and it seemed befitting that I should walk down to the Victorian Church outside McLeodganj. Though I missed the mass by just a bit I did spend all of an hour and a half breathing in the serenity. The Grand church with its beautiful stained glass windows and large wooden trusses seemed was just what one would expect of the British in their summer retreat!

A nine mile trek to the neighbouring village led me to the tallest point in the region. On the way, the Sacred Dal Lake offered a lucrative resting place. I settled down for about an hour along the outer fringes of the lake and took a nap under the great trees. The trek through the forests and the narrow walkways rejuvenated my sense of freedom after being stifled by the city in which I lived. After gathering in as much as I could, I headed back to McLeodganj and took refuge in the cozy Lhamo's Croissant. It was all good. The weekend trip was coming to an end and as i sat there on the terrace by the setting sun I started to contemplate.

This was truly a magical place. There seemed to be something strangely emotional about the town that now seemed to hold me back from leaving. As I sat thinking, I could not help but notice all the faces. People from different places and different backgrounds laughing, singing and dancing gleefully. Everyday was a festivity in this land of the Monks.

With a heavy heart in my chest and a won ton in my mouth, I bid the place a fond farewell in the hopes of returning once again...

A Mughal Experience

Agra and Fatehpur Sikri, Uttar Pradesh, India
September 12th, 2008

Having left for Agra from New Delhi just past midnight, I decided to enjoy a good nap in the surprisingly empty state transport bus.

I reached Agra at six in the morning and made my way to the nearest tea stall battling through an enthusiastic crowd of guides. After a sip of hot tea, I was more than ready for the day! I found a decent place to stash my belongings freshened up as soon as I could for even the cheapest motel in Agra charged extravagantly.

I was outside the Taj Mahal Complex by quarter to nine. It was nothing I had not previously studied about back in school but it was everything I had hoped it would be. Breathtaking! The pure white skin of marble shone brightly, bathing in the rays of the rising Sun... It is true there is a prevailing influence of time and space on architecture. The Taj seemed to be hovering unyieldingly over the large podium as I continued walking towards it along the avenue. The plethora of optical illusions leading to an ingenious effect coupled with the staggering scale of the form and space seemed to humble evrything within site. It was of great surprise to me then, the way the Taj was nestled among the bustling organic overgrowth of the city and sandwiched on the other side by the great River Yamuna.

How could there be such great isolation in space? If the context is a governing factor then how can the immediate surroundings be so drastically over- ruled? What does the environment in Agra demand of this painfully gargantuan structure?

It was almost noon when I left the Taj and headed for The Agra Fort. Though there was nothing very extraordinary about the sense of scale within the fort itself, there were some very special features in and aound the fort which impressed me. A large open kiosk directly looking at the Taj which was some distance away along the banks of the river; the leisurely residence of Shah Jahan. A well kept garden by the plebeian court and the great hypostyle hall.

I had my fill of Agra and moving through the bustling Agra marketplace i headed to catch the first bus up to Fatehpur Sikri. It was now pretty hot and well past noon and at Fatehpur Sikri I endured a brief climb to the base of the Buland Darwaza. The scale of the structure left me flummoxed! It was then that I realized that the real pain was to climb all the steps leading into the Jama Masjid. The large public court surrounded by the peripheral hypostyle halls seemed to alleviate the importance of the white Darga of Salim Chisti.

One cannot help but wonder. Entire public gardens seem to fit into the footprint of each of these structures. How much are we willing to compact our urban scenarios to maximize buildable spaces?With these thoughts rambling through my mind I desecended the many stairs that I had climed earlier. A winding path led me to the gates of the Royal Complex of Fatehpur Sikri. Again it was everything I had hoped to see of a Mughal Emperor's seat of power. Majestic! Not only the independent structures, but also the many spaces that grew in and out of one another, waxing and waning through built environments designed to accommodate people from a varied cross section of the royal society. The Panch Mahal, Rani Jodhabai's Palace, Birbal's House, Diwan- e- am, Diwan- e- khas and the splendid outdoor chess court all reflected the great pomp and luxury that was the life of the emperor. And yet a certain sense of hollowness crept through the complex ringing with an ever increasing intensity through the abandoned structure now occupied only by a few animals...

Well, I had seen and done all there was to do and I had to continue on to Bharatpur the very evening. However I did return to New Delhi the day after to catalogue my experiences.

What did i understand from this trip?Built spaces enveloping large open spaces, Open spaces alienating buildings, A sharp contrast in the pompous expenditure in space within complex and an ever growing shortage of habitable spaces just outside. A mixture of contrasts and an oximoronic experience in all...