The mountains...

My first image of the Himalayas was from a plane as we flew into Bhutan. The year was 2011 and I was blinded by the vastness of these young, glorious mountains. The pilots of Drukair matter of factly shared that we were flying over Mount Everest on one side and Kanchenjunga on the other. It was surreal to say the least and I didn't realise I was crying until a colleague embarrassedly scurried away in order to avoid me.

From then on I have seen the mountains four times, would have been forty if not for the trouble we need to go through to access them.

A trip was planned, one friend traveling with us had a fractured foot, so adventure was in-built to the travel. The intent was to fly to Delhi and drive all around, but the powers that be had other plans. The rental car reneged their offer when we landed in Delhi and refused to help. We were stunned, never had we met a company who just didn't seem to care to help, I guess they considered giving our money back a grand enough gesture. So, with a car and driver in tow, we sped to our first destination. FYI - election campaigning was in full-swing; if you lived your adult life in India you know what it means.

The Drive To & Corbett National Park

The drive to Uttarakhand was via Uttar Pradesh. The narrative of UP has changed over the last 20 years and it has been a loud part of mainstream conversations; thanks to its leaders and Bollywood. I looked out in wonder as we drove through - it was territory I never wanted to travel through; reasons were lofty (loftier in my head). Like many things in life, it wasn't so bad.

Mustard was in bloom, women were comfortable to loiter by their doors, men didn't stare me down and the food was good. The air was different and I picked up on it, but did not think much of it till we crossed the border into Uttarakhand. I felt lighter - in my head you say, maybe but I know what I felt. In fact I shared this ’feeling’ with someone I met, a woman, my age and she said she feels the same way everytime she crosses that section.

We got into Corbett late in the evening and the cold was un-ignorable.

The big cats have been elusive but in their defence my efforts have been dismal. I was mighty hopeful as Corbett is so very large. The history of it was princely first, colonial second and conservation now. No photograph could do justice to the 3 hour drive through the terrain. The added element of running into a tiger was oh-so-thrilling. Two close calls but no dice. The one time we felt the adrenaline of the deer as they ran, it was amazing, can you imagine if we saw her/him! Next time. We did see a lovely eagle and many, many deer.

Only picture I have of Corbett.

The place we stayed at had access to the forest behind, so morning walks were fantastic. I saw my first hornbill. In the quiet I heard loud flapping of wings, honestly thought it was a helicopter and out from the trees flew a giant grey hornbill. Spectacular.

And we walked down to a very noisy, completely invisible stream - underground water, again a first.

Drive to Gwaldam and Tridiva Home-stay

Within an hour into our drive to Tridiva, we screeched to a halt, drove back 100 meters to capture these lovely creatures.

'What do you want do? I don't know what do you want to do'? You will get it if you know your Jungle Book, the film(original).

Uneventful drive otherwise. The mountains kept us company throughout.

On this trip I got into a new pattern, I would be on google maps looking for places of interest, in parallel I would type old, ancient, archeological kind of words to narrow my search. I landed on quite a few gems, one of them being the Bindeshwar temple. How could I resist.

The grumbling driver complained about the detour but promptly walked in with me to pray. A late realisation for me, the grumbling was just to add to a long list of pretend grumbles so the end of the trip tip is large enough.

The temple is thought to be built in the 9th/10th century as a tribute to the king Bindu by his son. The people have modernised it and sadly the charm of the new does not appeal to me. Shiva here is said to be Swambhu and he occupies a tiny space as you enter the temple. The rest of it is a maze - many gods and goddesses intertwined with human living quarters. A random person in this complex asked me to follow him for 'prasad', and I did. I now cannot feel superior to the girl(s) in the horror movies who go outside in the dark to check out strange noises.

The trees around were witness to my explorations; was a stop that included tea.

The next point of interest in my search was the Baijnath (Vaidyanath, the healer) temple, again 11th century and built by the Katyuri dynasty. The legend is that the temple was actually built by Vishakarma (the architect to the gods) and that Shiva & Parvati got married here. They couldn't have asked for a more beautiful setting - the mountains and the rivers and a dignified temple. I sadly did a drive-by; the picture credit goes to Wiki.

We finally arrived at our homestay, we had to climb 100 odd steps to get to it. The fractured friend was cheered on and I was ready to break his other foot.

Tridiva Homestay is a must for anyone - the views are fantastic, the hosts are warm (Pradeepji makes divine food, do not fail to eat the aloo parathas) and the company was spectacular, Oak and Jhumri outdid themselves.

We talked the whole two days with Meeta, took long walks into the forests behind the home and acclimatised to the Himalayan winter. The Nanda Devi range showed herself on Day 2. The walks were dotted with homes, old shrines & wells, a school with a playground that has a 360 degree view of the mountains and a quiet forest in the background. The home stay recommendation came from a person with 3 degrees of separation.

We debated quite a bit the evening before our next destination, Auli. It had snowed and we were in a car which was too delicate to house four-wheel capability. But a sense of 'let us see what happens' prevailed and if things went wrong, we had Joshimath, which was 40 minutes away and a 1000 meters closer to the sea.

Drive to Auli & Auli

The drive to Auli was quiet, we passed through Karnaprayag and Rudraprayag; confluence of powerful rivers. A daily visual treat for all who live along these rivers; a marvel for me. The rivers just travelled with us while we tried to keep up the pace.

The elections continued so the lunch stop was with a bunch of campaigners who also had stopped for a bite before they headed off to convince the next unsuspecting soul.

We got into Joshimath and began our drive up to Auli. The cold started to seep into our bones and eventually our brain. It was cold. Our driver had started his usual litanies and I tuned him out just enough to agree with everything he said.

The magnificent Nanda Devi and her fellow peaks were my first time of being up close and personal with the mountains. They were alien. I was so unnerved that I wanted to go home right away. I never felt so far away from home. Maybe the insignificance of me hit very hard. Maybe I was not as open as I thought I was. I was blown-away and terrified at the same time. Went to bed worried, despite the following picture being the view from my bed.

Woke up at 5:30, a blinding star staring right at me through the window; first thought, must be them aliens. But it was the planet Venus right next to the peak, I have never seen anything so bright and so big in the sky, exciting it was. It was too cold to get out of bed and take a picture.

Woke up as the sun hit the peaks, pictures will do the talking.

A walk in the morning to the army barracks and back and Auli began to ease me into the deep mountain life. The snow and the ski slopes needed a little getting used to, hard to fathom snow in India for a South Indian.

We took the trolley to Joshimath, I felt very European as we hurtled down. I am not going to tire you with adjectives of the views.

Walked through Joshimath and googled upon a beautiful temple at the foothills - Narasimha was in the valley. Alongside many other temples Chandi, the local goddess, Gowri, an ode to Shankaracharya and many many more.

It is believed that the Narasimha statue’s left arm will decrease over time and eventually disappear, the dreaded Kali Yuga. And when that happens, the main temple of Badrinath and the sanctuary of Badrinath will be blocked and inaccessible as the landslides will be devastating. At rate at which the climate is changing, it seems a likely possibility.

I loved walking around the massive complex, it was best, best.

The evening and night was a disturbed one, again. A cold, mild fever and fatigue was attacking the body, covid nightmares kept me up.

Drive to Rishikesh

Woke up feeling ugh but perked up as we headed out to Rishikesh, Glasshouse on the Ganges was a long-awaited treat.

The drive was beautiful, passed through many Prayags.

Every one with a story, either linked to the Mahabharata or to the Gods themselves or to our ancestors. Had read, Diane Eck’ s ‘ A Sacred Geography‘ in 2012, went back to it to demystify some of the places I saw. Happened upon some lines that lined with this trip very well - ‘It (India) is a three-dimensional sacred landscape, linked by its story lines. People and cultures the “maps” of their world. Myths, while they may be imaginative stories, are also those deeply true stories that anchor and orient people in the reality in which they live’.

Do read the book - the detail is rich and well corroborated and ignore (for this read) the controversy that has marred Eck; a bit.

We took a detour to a space recommended by Meeta, a cave temple by the river. We walked many, many steps down to reach the banks and the cave. The sadhu sitting outside asked me to dip in the Ganga and then go in. I smiled and went in. The rituals have meaning only if it makes sense to the individual; a concept that many don't agree with. A old sadhu, however sweet looking, did not motivate me to listen. The cave is not too deep, the rock is linga-shaped (kind of?) and Koteshwara (Shiva again) resides here. The cave is slippery - water and oil for the lamps makes it a hazard for mildly clumsy people like me - nonetheless I closed my eyes. The myth associated with this Shiva is of Basmasura (hand on the head asura), again. We met this story at Kinnaur Kailash in Himachal. Diane Eck also talks about the myths and legends that travel with the people and how they take the shape of the new land and its inhabitants.

Glasshouse lived up to its reputation. The walked down the slippery, gravelly slope to the banks of the Ganga was momentous and death-inviting but the river was worth it. Clean, loud and serene. Sat by myself for a while before it was time for the Aarti. Cranky Priest.

Rishikesh

A hippy/hipster town - laid back and loud. Walked around quite a bit, small shops tucked into busy lanes and the famous Lakshman Jhula patiently endured the burden of being a prime selfie spot. As I shopped and walked, I saw from afar the top of a worn-out old temple - followed it like a crow would.

Built by a queen, intricate and delicate. The only information about her and the temple is on the plaque. I spent time just looking around.

The bookstore by the river was a pleasant well- curated space and I walked away with many gems. We closed the afternoon with lunch at a highly recommended pizzeria.

On the drive back to the Glasshouse, we made a quick detour to the place where Rama was supposed to have bathed when he was in exile. The kund (pond) itself seemed of no interest to the many who crowded the pathways by the river - which was filled with hawkers and a relatively clean place to sit by the river.

The evening I walked down to the banks of Ganga, alone. Was a bit daunting - pathway was gravelly and the nosies from the bushes did not help. Made it and sat quietly by the banks, with the bird for company. Was a proud moment for me, independently walking a trail and sitting in the wilderness (sort of) was a first.

The next day we drove to the Neelkanta temple - people I was traveling with got a bit annoyed with the multiple temple visits, I not-so-politely explained, it is about the history of the place not so much the religion. I cannot help it if a lot of our history is tied with religion.

The Shiva in this temple is the one that swallows the poison during the asuras and devas relentless churn for the nectar of immortality. The temple has a Gopura, Dravidian in style - unique, couldn't find a reason for it. Like many Shiva temples on this trip, this one was also very simple and ascetic, like he is forever depicted.

The rest of the afternoon went in quiet frustration as I couldn't repeat my Ganga feat for the day, instead got a massage and fumed quietly.

We drove out the next day to Delhi, stopping on the way at Meerut for their famous Chole Bhatura.

Delhi will need another blog.