The Magical Land

Everyone said Spiti was a beautiful place. A place that would dazzle the eye and soothe the soul. No one warned me about how it would seep through my pores and get permanently etched in my imagination. And certainly, no one prepared me for the people who live there. The true meaning of the word ‘Sonder’ came into existence in Spiti Valley.

Everyone I came across, from a local to a visitor, from the very young to the very old, from the settled to the nomad… every single person had a story to share. And that, more than the mind numbingly brilliant scenery reached in and grabbed my heart. Hence, the people of Spiti will be the first in a series of posts. A jumble of words, images, expressions and feelings. Sometimes unstructured, but always poetic because its people deserve it and the place commands it.

I could only manage some pictures. I missed clicking snaps of:
The ‘Amchi’ –local medicine man (practitioner of Tibetan medicine also known as the Amchi System of Medicine)

The ‘Chouwa’ – local shaman who fed us yak cheese and tea in his house and then proceeded to try and answer our questions on our past and future

The Garhis – nomadic sheep herders who move from one terrain to another based on the availability of food for their herd

‘Angdui’ – Our local guide who teaches in a local school and is capable of cooking up a storm
Vishakha, a Mumbai girl who runs the Himalayan Café at Kaza

Siddharta, an ‘almost nine-year-old’ boy near Dhankar Monastery who loves math and who nodded sagely and said, I had to study hard to get past grades I, 2 and 3. Now I am in grade 4, I will have to study harder.

 Should post the next update in a while. Meanwhile, I will wallow in a state of semi-existence.

#Bikers

#Spiti

#monks

#oldman

#oldwoman

#sarahkashyap

Jai Hind

just that.

i do not know why i love india so much.
i just do.
probably more than anything in this world.

must be some past life thing.
must have been major kraantikaari types.
who knows.

cheerio~

The long road to work

…is one of the best one, ever.
We have taken to driving through this diversion instead of the highway and I personally believe it is the single biggest reason for my feeling a lot happier in life.

Yes, it does take me a trifle longer thanks to the added Kms, but it is so much better than being stuck in a stagnant traffic jam amidst boring motorists who cannot seem to get one simple fact… constant blowing of the horn does not help un-jam the situation.

So, coming back to this new route, it leads me through a village, up a hill and fields.
Tiny mud houses, whitewashed and fresh
Little children, stirring awake
Ladies sashaying about their chores
Colourful ghaghras, multi-hued turbans
An old couple drinking chai, seated on a charpoi
A lazy bunch gathered outside a shop
Buffaloes and cows and calves
Some dogs and goats too
Fresh air and the smell of earth
Ripe with cowdung and last night’s fire
A dhabba cum puncture repair shop in the corner
Boulders and thorny bushes on either side
The kali temple, the other one dedicated to an unknown God
And a thousand other things that hold me enthralled
In the 20 odd minutes it takes me to get to the city again
I hit paradise.