Hindustan-Tibet road: Nowhere to nowhere

Okay,  It happened two years ago.  After quitting my job and before finding a new one, I headed towards Spiti. With only my backpack for company, what I sought, to be as cliched as possible,  was a life changing experience.  And the plan was to tread the trails which I earlier could not because of the other cliche, little time.  For four days, I cycled and trekked around Kalpa, who rising from her lazy stupor wooed me with all she hid in her bosom, and never revealed until I  decided to forego the insurance of the tarred road. It could as well have been me rising from my stupor, as the hermit in me took over, and decided to move on, beyond Kalpa, towards the fairy tale lands of Kaza, Komik, Kibber, and every place that I yearned to be in, every time I was in Ladhhak, and every time I was in Kalpa.

Leaving the tar insurance: Kalpa

What?

Whistle as you walk: Kalpa

Hobbiton?

Cheeni Gaon Monastery

Hermits don't write travelogues, or may be they do but don't call them so. I never planned to write this one, but the story still haunts me, everyday. The bus from Kalpa to Nako somehow lingered on, despite missing the road and pointing with its wheels towards the valley on numerous occasions. The more important detail, however, was the way the omnipresent Kinner Kailash mountain crept into the horizon with altered hues, irrespective of the direction the bus took for the first half of the journey, before finally giving way to Tibetian mountains who were even more majestic, yet anonymous. The place where the bus driver decided to break the journey overlooked a forceful, young, muddy, beautiful, yet anonymous river. However,  the more important detail here was the sky, who wore shades of overcast grayish blue towards the southern side, and appeared an eye shattering bright blue color over the northern side. Was it because the overwhelmingly bright sky over the fairy tale lands reflected the radiance of a cleaner collective conscience? Whatever it was, I won't ruin it with reason even if I knew.

When I wanted Kaurik: Nako

Mud monastery: Nako

‘Kaurik- 350 KM’ was how it started, became ‘Kaurik- 360’ after traveling 3 KM, corrected itself to 330 after a brief while (NHAI does that all the time), went down to 220, then 140 by the time I figured out that Kaurik must be the last place under India’s control on the Hindustan-Tibet road. It was ‘Kaurik-139 KM by the time I decided that I will go there. It wasn’t going to happen though, and I had to settle for Nako for the day. Here’s the reason out of my diary for the day:

'Kaurik,' promised the road signs all the way from Simla,

Three days on the road, and there is no more road, no Kaurik,

Perished amidst uprooted milestones and demeaned miles,

Forlorn but not forgotten Kaurik; the road never gave up on it,

Never will on me.

Seductress the road, makes another promise...'Komik'

Yes, what had once been Kaurik, had fallen to a cloudburst years ago. With the road ravaged in flood, the location now stood 20 KM off the road; what mattered, however, was that as reminiscent of Kaurik, the highway still preserved, like tombs for fallen martyrs, all the milestones that talked of the place.

Nowhere: Nako

Millet: Nako

Nowhere to nowhere: Nako

Yaks abound: Nako

No, I don't share my food

Nako

At Rs 350 a day for a decent shelter, Nako was tailor-made to be my base camp for the next few days. A lost little hamlet, Nako had all that I asked for, a little lake, a little stream,a beautiful mud monastery, yaks all around, cold windy weather, inexpensive accommodation, and numerous  picturesque treks originating from there. Among things that I didn't ask for, it had a small group of Israeli junkies, high on hash, passing joints, and singing late into the night, right next to the stream. As the hash effect grew on them, while I strolled near the lake in the dead of night, their melodies grew deeper and better. Soon, on walking further towards nowhere, the faint murmur of stream, in tandem with the music, by now a lullaby, the ghostly freezing wind, and the stunningly naked starry sky, kept me from sleeping almost until dawn.

---To be continued---