This one is about my recent trip to Kailash Mansarovar. I did write a daily journal, but that is handwritten, sometimes in the half light and sometimes by the light of my headlamp (like a miner's) and was very bare bones, so let me try and see if I can do more justice sitting in a comfortable chair, at a comfortable desk, with comfortable lighting and temperature control!
We landed at Kathmandu on May 18th (2010), to be greeted by our Mumbai based tour operator with a PYT in tow, who proceeded to garland each of us with a rudraksha mala and then load us into a bus. Our destination was Shanker Hotel, which turned out to be a converted palace. The reception had copper plates depicting various forms of the goddess embedded in the marble walls, and elaborate dark wood carvings all over.
The room Gladys and I shared was on the 6th floor (we started on level 4, so that gives you an idea of how high) and we had a tiny arched window that might have been about 18 inches at it’s peak. When we visited Manjari and Nikhil’s room on the 5th floor, we discovered they had the bulk of the window that gave their room a light, airy look. Our room however had lots of fresco (?) – plaster carvings all over the sides of the ceiling. It looked like the 4th-5th-6th floors were all 1 floor back in the palace days. The restaurant was in the basement and had beautiful chandeliers everywhere. The place was full of tourists, mountaineers and pilgrims – the trekkers mostly from East Europe and the pilgrims from India.
We spent 2 days at Kathmandu, which was supposed to be for shopping (kitting up with whatever we did not yet have). I'd taken only long sleeved t-shirts and Kathmandu was HOT - dry like Delhi and almost as hot - some 35-38 celsius, so my purchases were limited to 2 quick drying short sleeved t-shirts. Kathmandu is a great place for buying things for trekking / mountaineering, but since I didn't know whether I would be repeating the experience, I did not indulge. I was also very conscious of being at the outset of a journey into the great unknown and thought it wiser to hoard my cash for now. There is extensive bargaining to be done - we went down to some 70-80% of the quoted price, but Kalpa from our group (who did not accompany us to the area where we went shopping) turned out to be an expert and often went down to 50-60% and managed it. And after all the bargaining is done, you come out with the trump card and say "Nepali rupees" - 1 Indian rupee is 1.6 Nepali rupees, so that gives you another discounting factor! So I picked up 2 quick drying short sleeved t-shirts for 1000 Nepali rupees, which came to barely Rs 312 (or USD 7 each)! Also picked up a couple of CDs of Tibetan chants and since I listen to them on my way to work now, they run through my head all day
We visited the Pashupatinath temple in Kathmandu, which is supposed to be the only temple that enshrines the face / head of Shiva - all others representing him with the linga. The deity is supposed to be from dwapar-yuga, and the priests - from Udupi! - are supposed to be there since the past 400 years. I asked about the logic of that and was told it was to circumvent the prohibition of priests not being allowed to perform temple duties if anyone in their family died. Presumably, if these priests’ family members died back in Udupi, there were no communication systems back then and it didn't matter. I looked closely at the priests, thinking to speak in Konkani to them, but they were quite Nepali in feature - guess enough blood has cross-mingled by now
One of the priests / sadhus / fakes sitting in the temple premises called me over and daubed a huge chunk of kumkum and rice on my forehead, which started feeling like a real weight after some time, but I didn't feel like rubbing it off. As you enter the main gate of Pashupatinath, you see the enormous backside of a brass bull - the nandi - facing the deity. It is HUGE! One of the sadhus gave Amrish a rudraksh, which he passed on to me, so including the one that the tour operator's girl had garlanded me with on landing, I now had 2 rudraksha malas. The tour operator told us we should carry it with us and dip it into mansarovar lake - that is the tradition
Behind the temple (and you can look down into it from the temple premises) is a river / channel and the burning ghats are beside it. There was a party there getting ready for the final send off, but I did not like to intrude on their grief with my touristy curiosity and camera
We returned from the temple to a briefing by our tour operator who advised us to leave some of our extraneous luggage in the Shanker Hotel’s left luggage facility. So we spent the second evening at Kathmandu sorting out what to take and what to leave and making 5 separate sets of all the food we’d brought so each could carry his/her own and decide when to consume what
The third day (May 20th) we loaded into the bus and set off for Dhulikhel – barely a couple of hours ride. It was a beautiful resort, with a garden-side restaurant for tea, from where all the 7 top peaks in Nepal could be seen on a clear day. Unfortunately, though we waited for it, we did not get quite that clear a day. All the same, the view was beautiful and again, it was a converted palace in which we were put up. Our tour operator kept warning us to not get addicted to the luxury, and that this would be the last of it for a long time. Sure enough, next morning (May 21st), we enjoyed a hot water bath using solar heated water, and that turned out to be my last bath till May 31st!
But that is jumping the gun …. We left early from Dhulikhel for the border – the idea was to reach the border as early as possible, so we could reach our destination in Tibet before dark. So we were roused at 5:30 and left the resort after breakfast at 6. By something like 10 am we were at Kodari, which is the Nepal side of the border. Our passports were collected and we were shown into a restaurant (more like a buffet counter with tables set out in someone’s home) and told to have lunch. So at some 10-10:30 am, we dutifully had lunch until our passports were processed for a Nepal exit and returned to us. Our team of Sherpas were also introduced to us at this time – there were Gelbo – the head Sherpa who turned out to be ex-Army, Hira - the cook, Babu, GS or Zeus and the youngest and naughtiest - Lhakpa
When our bus first arrived at Kodari, we saw the locals jostling each other and then forming a raggedy line. Wondered at it before we realized – our luggage, including our travelling kitchen (gas cylinders, provisions et al) were unloaded from our truck/bus and carried by the locals across the border to be loaded onto a truck there after being scanned by the Chinese immigration officials. We then walked across the border (Friendship bridge) under the watchful eyes of the Chinese border police / army. We had to wait a couple of hours at the Tibet end, until our assigned “China guide” made an appearance. Once he came, we filed through immigration in the sequence in which our names had appeared on the group visa application
Our hand baggage was scanned and any book was fished out and leafed through – even my personal journal came in for questioning. Luckily, none of us was carrying anything referring to Budhism, the Dalai Lama or any such matter. Khushroo had a book on Ramkrishna Paramhansa and the officials had a tough time understanding what the book was about. Our tour operator really should have warned us against carrying any religious material, or anything that could be perceived as religious. We were lucky nobody was!
Nepal time is only 15 mins ahead of India time, but even though Tibet is on the same longitude, by virtue of being under Chinese domination, it follows Beijing time, which is 2.5 hours ahead of Nepal time. This later gave rise to some good amount of confusion, but for now, we just loaded in sets of 3 into individual Land Cruisers and thought we were on our way in Tibet.
But no – there was some section of the road under construction some way ahead, and traffic could only move in one direction at a time. So to soothe Jawahar’s sore throat, I mixed up a thermos of hot lemon tea and we all drank a couple of mouthfuls each. For the rest of the trip, there were references to the most refreshing hot lemon tea that we had while stuck on the road.
Within an hour or so, we reached the border town of Zhangmu. Promesh (our Nepali tour operator) needed to get some police permit processed there, so while he went and took care of that business, the rest of us wandered up and down the street, wide eyed at the plethora of cheap Chinese goods on display. Having realized the folly of travelling even by car, in open toed sandals with socks, I invested in a cute pair of light weight shoes that laced up from the back. The vendor quoted 75 Yuan (1 yuan = Rs 8) and gave it to me for 55 Yuan. Kalpa, our star negotiator told me she could have got him down to 45, but I was too impatient. Never mind – Rs 440 for a nice pair of shoes is quite a bargain. I also picked up a pair of quick drying trousers – the kind that can be converted into shorts by yanking on a zip. The joy of being in China and readily finding my size – in Kathmandu, the smallest size was too large for me!
After a cup of tea and a bathroom break in an indoor loo, we set off again – Promesh warned us to keep our down feather jackets handy now, and those of us who had something in the hand luggage kept them handy. Kathmandu was some 4500-4700 ft above sea level, Dhulikhel was barely a couple hundred feet higher …. this, after Zhangmu is when we started climbing. As darkness fell, it got colder and by the time we reached Nyalam, it was dark, cold and all of us were miserable with the combined effects of the cold, altitude sickness, hunger, stark living conditions that lay ahead of us and the long tiring drive we’d had. The truck, with our duffel bags had not yet arrived, and so our warm clothes were also out of reach.
We had dormitory style accommodation – the 9 women (2 aunties from Indore and 2 uncles from Ayodhya got attached to our 18 member group at Kathmandu, taking us to 22 – 9 women and 13 men) in one room and the 13 men in another room, which was at a lower level. Every time we went to the loo or to eat or to visit the men, we had to climb down a storey (along steps on the mountain side) and up again. Now that we were at 12,000 odd feet, the altitude was affecting all of us and none of us could climb more than a couple of steps at a stretch. Most of us started the ½ tablet of Dimox on Promesh’s advice that night. We cowered in our rooms and miserably drank the soup and ate the khichdi the sherpas served us, then drank the hot honey water and went to sleep.
At Nyalam, we also got introduced to the Chinese style loos – Indoor toilets in China (or Tibet at least) are built into the hillside. When you enter, there is a hole in the floor and your #@!# goes through the hole to the ground one floor below. There are openings below from where presumably the dog and the pig can clean out the stuff, but things do pile up and stink, so we usually end up preferring the great outdoors.
By morning things looked better – the headache had eased for most of us, which meant our bodies were adjusting to the altitude. Our truck had arrived at 4 am, so we had access to our warm clothes and while we were by now pros at going number 1 in the open, we now had to start getting used to doing number 2 in the open. Ahhh well, every day is a new learning experience. So empty bisleri and 1.5 liter coke bottles got pressed into service and the protocol was established of no guy going (or even looking) towards a woman who looks like she’s standing guard!
One thing was very apparent once we’d entered China – wherever roads existed, they were of excellent quality. And where there were no roads (most of the way once we’d passed through Saga), there was simultaneous road construction going on all the way – no doubt anyone making the same trip a year later would get proper roads all the way. At this time, the alignment was in place and culverts were being built at various locations. Very few labour in evidence, and even where activity was on, we only saw maybe 10 tents or less to house the workers – not the huge labour colonies that I’m accustomed to from my HCC days. Nor did we see a lot of machinery around – they were anyway not at the top surface stage of construction – more like the lower layers where its mostly earth dumping to mark the alignment – but then, I didn’t see many trucks or dumpsters either. It was almost like elves must have come out at sundown and done the construction!
Another interesting feature of Chinese efficiency was that every now and then, in the middle of the great brown desert, we would see solar panels and communication towers. We had cellphone signals almost all the way, with only very occasional breakdowns. And every time we passed through a town (or village), we could identify the government building there – it had solar panels and often enough a couple of mini windmills as well. When we stopped at a village (overnight or just a halt) we found that small solar panels (often no more than a foot square) would be connected to a storage battery, often no larger than a car battery, and that would be used to power whatever – ISD calls, lighting, etc. Great use of ecologically friendly energy everywhere!
We spent 2 days at Nyalam, going for a walk the morning and evening after we reached, just to see how our bodies were adjusting to the reduced oxygen levels. The second day, we left Nyalam for Saga. That morning, and every morning thereafter, our driver would chant as he started the day’s driving for a good hour or two. It was nice listening to him chant under his breath, even as his mind dwelt on driving or seeking the best path. We’d been told beforehand that this was a place of great oxygen rarity and we should immediately inform of any discomfort and not dream of showing any macho-ism. Soon after we left Nyalam, we turned off the nice tarred road and from then on, it was major offroad driving all the way – not only was there no road, often, all we had were tyre tracks in the desert and the odd signage in Chinese. We stopped at one location in the middle of the desert for a pee break, and suddenly Khushroo noticed and told us all to look at the sun – there was a huge halo around it – quite a sight. I blindly pointed my camera in the direction and shot it, with no idea how the picture would turn out. As I saw on my return, you could make out the halo, though not in full technicolour glory
We reached Saga, about 15,000 ft in the early part of the evening and were shown into a proper hotel on twin sharing basis, with attached bathrooms! What bliss – we were told hot running water would be available from 8 pm to 12 midnight, so with happy anticipation, we set out to make ISD calls (Manjari) and buy more thermals etc.
Returned from our short shopping trip to find Kalpa waiting to tell us her hot tip – the receptionist had advised her that though hot running water was available, 99% of the people who take a bath there end up succumbing to a cold due to exposure, so he would not recommend our taking a bath. If at all, we could bend our heads forward and wash our hair in the wash basin. That was enough for us, and we decided to forego the bath and the head wash – limit ourselves to a sponge with a corner of the towel dipped in hot water.
Saga had heating pads on the bed, so we turned it on while we had dinner and then gratefully slid into warm beds and enjoyed a comfortable night. Next morning, it was an early start, with breakfast in the freezing corridor. BTW – everywhere, our sherpas found a place where they could set up their kitchen and cook and serve us food – that is the norm, not restaurant food. We set out from Saga, had lunch at a place called Dongpa and by late afternoon, we were at Parmath Ashram at Paryang. Here again, it was a mix of twin share rooms, 3 to a room and 4-5 to a room.
This was where Amrish brought up the idea of forgoing the parikrama and visiting Ashtapad instead, and then going to Taklakot (or some such place) for a helicopter evacuation to avoid the dusty and bumpy drive back. Within half a day, the group had divided into 2 camps – those who wanted to fly back and those who wanted to attempt the parikrama. In the end, we got divided into 9 of us who wanted to attempt the parikrama and 8 who would fly back
In the evening, after the sun went down a bit, 6 of us set out to climb the hill / mountain behind our ashram lodgings. It didn’t look too high and there were prayer flags fluttering on top, so we thought there might be some kind of monastery up there. So we set out – Najeeb and Nikhil both armed with their cameras, Khushroo, Machhindra, Tushar and I. The early slopes had us struggling in no time at all – it was loose sand and with the altitude and our general breathlessness, we found it difficult to climb even 4-5 steps at a stretch. General dismay all round and we hoped the parikrama would be on firmer soil. A little ahead, we could see rocks embedded in the sand, so we told each other the rocks would give us leverage and pushed on towards them. Turned out most of the rocks were so small, that they shifted with our weight, leave alone giving us leverage for our climb. Okkkkkkkkkk – so there was some scraggy grass growing through the sand a little higher up – we told ourselves it would become easier then. Not really – maybe marginally, but we were all psyched at how difficult the climb was, though height-wise and distance-wise it was nothing.
Finally, we reached a stopping point and stopped to catch our breaths. Khushroo and Machhindra decided against climbing any further. We told them to wait right there until our return – and climbed on. Actually, it did get easier soon after, since the sand gave way to firmer mud and we reached a collection of prayer flags. There was no monastery there, but presumably there was a reason the spot had been chosen for the prayer flags, and we took photos to mark the occasion. Nikhil and Tushar tried climbing a couple of different directions in hopes of catching the perfect sunset, but whichever way they tried, the mountains hid the sunset and eventually, we decided it would be smart to descend quickly before it got dark, since none of us had carried out torches.
The descent was really speedy, the soft sand acting as cushions on the descent, and we only needed to be careful to descend at an angle and not lose our balance. As we descended in giant steps, we each realized we were descending by a different route from our climb. Just as well Khushroo and Machhindra did not pay heed to our suggestion to wait for us to descend – they might have been waiting there still!
We quickly made it across to the ashram, and what luck – the sherpas were just serving soup and we were able to warm our chilled hands and insides with the soup. Dinner followed soon after and that was it for that day
While we were at Paryang, a Rotel (rolling hotel – a bus, complete with seating in the front half, sleeping in the rear alongwith a chemical toilet, picnic tables and chair stashed in the luggage hold) group was also there. They all seemed like retired Germans and were enjoying their picnic breakfast in the courtyard, while we morosely went about our outdoor ablutions. They took off before us and a little later, we left as well – destination Mansarovar Lake.
Somewhere along the way, Promesh stopped our cavalcade and showed us a mountain where the image of Ganesha was clearly visible – lotus shaped eyes, trunk and big flapping ears were clearly marked in snow and rock – it was amazing. We could see it off and on all the way till our lunch stop (never got the name of this place) and then we were headed for the snow covered peaks.
By and by, Mt Kailash could be seen through the windshield and we reached a plateau, again filled with prayer flags, where everyone stops for their first darshan of Lake Mansarovar and Mt Kailash. For some reason, some people (including our 2 uncles and aunties) were circumambulating the prayer flags – they’d been told that if they couldn’t do the parikrama, this was a good substitute.
A few photo ops and then we piled back into the cars and headed for our campsite at Lake Mansarovar. Reached by early evening and it was back to a choice of dormitory sleeping or tents. Seven of us (Najeeb, Nikhil, Manjari, Gladys, Kalpa, Machhindra and I) decided to try out the tents and sleeping bags, while the rest opted for the dormitory. The plateau was live with some kind of seagulls raising an unholy racket. In the midst of them, stood what looked like a yak, covered with a blue plastic tied in place. I just couldn’t figure it out and finally asked Promesh about it. Guess it was the lack of oxygen reaching my brain, but I honestly wondered if yaks were covered like that to protect them from the elements!
Turns out it was a dead (and presumably stuffed) yak, and when I looked closer, all the 4 legs had splints to hold the poor carcass up! Guess it was an exhibition piece. Though the sun was shining, it was cold and there was a chill wind blowing. Some of our party headed to the lake for a dip. As we got to know of it, Gladys, Manjari, Kavita and I also headed towards the lake edge. As we proceeded, I realized my cotton sweater and raincoat jacket (which had served me well enough till here) were inadequate, and I was risking exposure. The others too were feeling cold, and so we turned back without reaching the lake edge. By now, I was freezing, and convinced I was headed for exposure or a chest infection, and so I left the others and headed straight for the kitchen tent. The sherpas gave me a chair when I told them I was cold and shared the coffee they were drinking. After warming myself at the kitchen fire for half an hour, I headed back to our tent feeling calmer, and dug out warmer clothes to wear
At the tent, as at every stop, it was once again a matter of reorganizing the contents of our duffle bags – what to take for the parikrama and what to leave behind, how much food to carry, how much to leave and how much to give away to the sherpas …. Finally, we finished soup, dinner, honey water and retired for the night
As it turned out, it was no easy matter to get into the sleeping bag – first I got into my own sleeping bag liner, which was essentially like a sack. Next I got into their sleeping bag liner which had a hood. Got it all positioned right, and then slid into the sleeping bag itself and struggled to tighten the hood around my face. When – every step left us panting with exertion, and all we could think / talk about was – God – hope we don’t need to get up and pee middle of the night, because remember – we were still taking ½ tablet of Dimox morning and evening. Thankfully, none of us did, though none of us slept properly that night. The dogs were howling right in our ears, it seemed like and it seemed like there was a pack of them, though we only ever saw 1 or 2. And the wind – wow – the wind was whistling through the night, even though we did not get a draft, it howled like crazy and made one h*** of a racket through the night
I’d removed my socks before sleeping and powdered my feet as I’d been doing every night, but it was so cold here, that middle of the night, I groped for my socks to wear them. Found them, but by the time I got my hand inside the sleeping bag, there was only 1 sock clutched in it. In vain I patted down the entire sleeping bag looking for the other sock, but in the end, had to make do with one sock and it was morning before I found the other sock still sitting beside my shoe where I’d dropped it as soon as I picked it up. I slept on my side and somewhere in the middle of the night when I turned over, I suddenly found my nose buried in the hood of the sleeping bag. Oh, ok - there’s a technique to changing sides when you’re sleeping in a sleeping bag – so I turned back the way I was – breathed a couple of times to catch my breath, and then, clutching the hood of the sleeping bag with my hands on either side of my face, I turned over complete with sleeping bag. Huh – that was better. The other problem was – either my breath was condensing on the edges of the sleeping bag hood and becoming ice, or the material of the sleeping bag hood was cold as ice – but woe betide your face should touch the outside of the sleeping bag, and wow – you were wide awake with the icy touch. No more sleeping bag nights for me if there’s a choice, not while it’s this cold at least!
Najeeb, the night bird was up till all hours of the night taking photographs of the night sky – the stars were amazingly clear and numerous, and told us next morning that it went down to -2.9 degrees Celsius in the night and was 1.9 degrees Celsius in the morning when we were having breakfast!
Next morning, we were told we would have breakfast, followed by an early lunch around noon and then set off for Darchen visiting Rakshas Tal on the way. We were pottering around drinking Tibetan tea (very nice and like a clear soup if you ask for it to be served without the usual yak butter addition – I didn’t have the yak butter version until a few days later) at Nikhil’s favorite tea stall (because it was manned – or womanned – by a very sweet smiling young lady, who played Tibetan music at our request by sticking something like a pen drive or camera memory card directly into a speaker, powered again by solar energy. Every time the sun went behind a cloud, the music stuttered!) when we were told we were packing up and leaving immediately. OK – yet another change of plans – so we piled into our land cruisers and set off. Promesh warned us all that the locals consider Rakshas Tal extremely inauspicious and don’t like stopping there and would not like it if we picked up even a single stone from there.
He then told us the legend of Rakshas Tal – It seems Mt Kailash was located elsewhere and both Ravana and his mother, being great Shiva devotees, used to worship it. Ravana’s mother used to only partake of food after doing darshan of the mountain. It so happened, that the mountain was obscured due to weather conditions for an extended period, and since she didn’t get darshan, Ravana’s mother refused to eat. As the days passed, she fell ill from weakness and hunger. Ravana came to enquire into the cause of her illness and on being told, went to Mt Kailash to perform penance. Shiva was impressed by his devoted penance and appeared before him to grant him a boon. Ravana told him that the only boon he wanted was to carry him (Mt Kailash) to his mother, so she could have his darshan and eat.
At this, Brahma, who is believed to live in the middle of Lake Mansarovar, was very perturbed. He, and the other Gods, did not want Mt Kailash / Shiva to go from there, away from the Parvati range (which is the range opposite Mt Kailash). Shiva, having granted the boon, could not go back on his word, and agreed, but with one condition – Ravana would have to carry the mountain without putting it down en route – wherever Ravana put the mountain down, there it would take root. Ravana agreed and set out. After travelling some distance, Ravana got the urge to pee. He looked around and spotted Ganesha coming toward him. He called out to Ganesha and told him – look, this is your father – you and I are the only ones with the strength to carry him. I cannot put him down, because of the condition he has laid on me. You please carry him while I go relieve myself. Ganesha agreed, but said that he would only me able to hold the mountain up for 5 mins, no longer. Ravana thought that was plenty of time, and agreed
Once Ravana started pee-ing however, the flow would simply not stop – this was Brahma’s doing, and as Ravana continued to pee, his 5 minute deadline was up, Ganesha put the mountain down, and Mt Kailash took root at it’s current location. In the winters, when the ice forms and covers the entire region between Mt Kailash and Parvati range, the two meet (dono ka milan hota hai). Rakshas Tal is supposed to be Ravana’s unending stream of urine and that is why it is considered by locals to be an extremely inauspicious spot.
Even as Promesh finished telling us this legend, and we added our irreverent bit about how Ravana must have been taking Dimox to make him pee like that, an SUV with a young couple and a young lady Chinese guide drove up and parked beside us on the campsite. Looking at us standing around, the driver, a young guy of Indian origin, asked if we were Indians. On confirmation, he jumped out and joined us and a while later, his wife also joined us. Turned out they were residents of London – he’d lived there for 9 years, she for 14 – and they were driving from London to New Delhi as part of an awareness drive against cruelty to animals (http://www.londondelhibyroad.com/). They’d been on the road about a month (after spending some 9 months on planning and permissions) and had entered China after passing through Belgium, Croatia, Ukraine. They’d entered China through some of the more strife torn parts, and were marked as “suspicious” for this reason. In fact, they were refused the permit to visit Mt Kailash or do the parikrama for this reason. They told us the story of how when passing through a particular militarily sensitive part of China, they were warned not to stop or take pictures. They agreed and started out, but it turned out to be a 9 hour long drive. At some point, the guy needed to relieve his bladder and wanted to stop the car, but the Chinese guide was adamant in her refusal. Finally, the guy just stopped, insisting he was on the point of bursting, and relieved himself.
Their China guide was a very vivacious and energetic petite girl. Probably quite young, but none of us could guess the age of the Chinese people we met. Her English was better than our China guide’s and she spoke to us quite some time, enquiring into our trip, where we planned to go and warning us not to remove our jackets even if we felt we were quite warm, because it was so easy to lose body heat and catch exposure!
Finally, we were summoned by the now familiar shouts of “Chalo, chalo” – the only bit of Hindi our Tibetan drivers had picked up and all of them would gleefully echo each other once the shout went up, typically initiated by Gelbo, our lead sherpa. We set off and amazingly, as we approached Rakshas Tal, we came to an absolutely beautiful tar road surrounding the lake.
The contrast was truly amazing – no birds, no breeze even, absolutely no life around the lake. We had lunch by the roadside while Amrish went and did what his guru had told him – ate a pinch of the sand and made a tikka of it on his forehead, as it is a powerful “shakti sthal”. He told me I should do the same to gain shakti, to which I told him I was already shakti incarnate and if he wanted, I would do the tandava nritya for him there and then!
Left from Rakshas Tal after lunch and drove on to Darchen (near Chiu Gompa on the map) where we encountered the “God water bath” sign that had us wondering. Anyway, found the Parmath Ashram there and settled in.
Three of us needed to be with the 2 aunties in a room in another block and graciously, Manjari, Gladys and I agreed to be the 3 outcasts. As luck would have it, the rooms in that block had nicer beds and spring mattresses and the floor was also nicer. But of course, when it came to dinner time, not only the sherpas but our group leaders and our entire group forgot all about calling us for dinner – major sulks at that!
Post settling into our room, we wandered out on the single street the town boasted in search of an ISD booth. No luck with that, but we wandered into a couple of Tibetan stalls and saw some beautiful turquoise and coral pieces. Checked out the God Water Bath place – it was a really nice place – a hot shower facility filled with steam and manned by this lady who was giving a shave to an old geezer. We decided that if we got the chance, we would shower there after completing our parikrama – no taking chances with exposure before the parikrama.
When we came back from our walk, there was a meeting in progress with Promesh and the sherpas. We were told that between the 9 of us doing the parikrama, we could take 1 duffel bag which would be carried by the yak and and our individual backpacks should contain 1 change of clothes (in case we got wet at any time during the parikrama), a thermos of water and a little food (dry fruits etc.) to see us through the day’s trek. So back it was to repacking and reorganizing our bags and then, with our clothes all set out for the parikrama, we went to sleep. At some stage, Manjari says she’s freezing and crawls into bed with me. She is shaking with cold and I start worrying about whether she’s falling sick and if so, what we should do. We sleep huddled together for some 20 mins until she is warm and then returns to her own bed. When I returned from a trip to the great outdoors, there she was in my bed again – her own bed was too cold, so she wanted to swap – fair enough, we swapped and the rest of the night was uneventful
In the morning we were all keyed up. Met for breakfast and everyone was subdued. The group would be splitting up – after seeing us off on the parikrama, the eight who planned to fly back would leave for Ashthapad and then return and we would only then meet them in Mumbai. Those of us planning to undertake the parikrama were all scared and trying not to show it. The waiting around was endless and my tension rose with the wait. At last, we piled into our cars and left for the start of the parikrama
This was the 27th (May, 2010) and Budh Purnima was on 28th. Budh Purnima is a very auspicious time for the Tibetans and they celebrate it as Saga Dawa for an entire week as their new year. They have their annual bath at this time, change into new clothes (which they then don’t change for the rest of the year) and drink, dance, eat and make merry the entire week. Promesh told us we would get to see all of this during our parikrama, thanx to our timing
Tarbochen, or Yama dwar (door to the God of Death!) - the spot from where the parikrama starts was full of the army or police. A line of them facing alternate directions, complete with transparent mob shields – a scary sight, these boyish and expressionless Chinese soldiers. I guess with the Tibetans gathering in mass, they had heightened their security measures. Or maybe it is always like this – who knows?
Anyway, a last set of group photos, farewells and hugs and “best of lucks” all round and then we set off – the 9 of us on our parikrama.
Actually, it was not that steep and tough the first day – the only problem was that with people of different capacities, we had to constantly stop and wait for each other and that disturbed the rhythm of the march. And with some mix-up or the other, the sherpas were told that we would have a heavy breakfast and no lunch, and nobody had told us any such thing, so we found ourselves marching on empty stomachs waiting for a lunch that never came. With the cold and the 6-7 hour trek, that turned out to be a real strain.
At a midpoint, we reached a tent where we had Tibetan tea and I shared out my 4 cubes of cheese amongst 8 of us – went down very well indeed with the Tibetan tea (nothing like hunger and cold to sharpen your appreciation for food). This was Tibetan tea with butter, and it was prepared by pounding something in a huge cylindrical mortar with a pestle. I could not see exactly what was being done and how it was prepared, but it came to us as a milky cream coloured liquid, which unfortunately was not that hot even. Anyway, we poured it down our throats, while others drank coke or red bull. I heard one of our sherpas ask for tsampa, so I asked him if he minded my examining it. Turned out to be a thick paste (I already knew from my readings it is a flour made of roasted barley seeds) that he was eating in lumps with chopsticks. I asked him what he’d mixed in the flour and he told me that in places like this, they just mixed it with Tibetan tea, but at home they added salt / sugar and other spices to taste with it. Soon we left the tent and set out again
At an early stage of our parikrama, the sherpas suddenly pointed to the steep cliffs to our right and said “hiran” (deer). We looked and it was a long time before my eyes adjusted enough to see them well camouflaged – it was a full herd of them, racing diagonally up an almost perpendicular cliff face. They stopped to feed and if you took your eyes off them for even a second (like to grab your camera), it was almost impossible to pot them again until they moved!
Finally, as the sun went down, we reached Dirapuk which was to be our camp for the night. Not quite – we had to climb a ladder-like stairway to reach our rooms! Wow – that ladder-stairway was steep and in that state of exhaustion and oxygen starvation, it was the ultimate test … we made it up and to our designated room and there I collapsed as all the willpower that had powered me till then just drained out of me
Gelbo, the lead Sherpa was called into a meeting and we asked him why we’d been starved and the great mix-up was discovered. We decided to let bygones be bygones and asked what the food plan for the morrow was. We were told we would need to start trekking at 4 am so we could cross Dolma La pass before the sun was at its peak, since oxygen would be at its peak early morning and would reduce once the sun reached its peak. We would get puri bhaji for breakfast before we started and would get packed lunch consisting of aloo parathas, cheese and juice. We bargained for 3 aloo parathas each – 2 for lunch and one for around 4 pm to fuel our 23 Km trek for the day. That done, we consumed the soup and dinner we were served and crashed for the night
Next morning, we woke to a great hammering at the door with Khushroo and Tushar calling out that it was 6 am and we’d all overslept including the sherpas and to get up and make haste. As we jumped out of bed and set about wrapping ourselves in warm clothes, one of the sherpas came with bed tea – to our questions, he said we were on time, and when he said 4 am, he meant 4 am Nepal time, because they gave no cognizance whatsoever to Beijing time! So we were right on time.
Anyway, puri bhaji was consumed for breakfast and we set out for the major trek of the day after saying goodbye to Khushroo who planned to return from Dirapuk to Darchen and meet us the next day at the culmination of our parikrama. Within barely 15-30 mins of setting out, Gladys told us she wanted to turn back – she didn’t think she’d be able to make it. So Gelbo departed with her to deliver her to Khushroo. In no time at all, he was back with us having left her at Dirapuk shortly before Khushroo left for Darchen.
It was fiercely cold, with a bleak wind blowing constantly, and despite my ear, nose, mouth covering, both my eyes and nose kept watering continuously. I struggled to draw tissues from the pack in the blowing wind and blow my nose. Some couple of hours into the day, I gave up and started just wiping my nose on the sleeve of my jacket or on my glove …. It was pretty hard going and we needed to stop every few minutes while our bodies warmed up for the day and tried to deal with the altitude and the gradient and the cold and wind
We came across a tiny bridge, slippery with ice that we crossed over and stepped onto a glacier like surface. We stepped carefully across the ice and continued on watching with open mouthed awe as locals, some with toddlers scampering at their heels, or strapped on their backs, easily overtook us and turned to gaze at our exotic features!
On and on we climbed – the scenery was beautiful and awe inspiring, but honestly, I did not have too much mind space to appreciate the surroundings (to stop and stare) – my focus was all on putting one step ahead of the other. At various places, we came to spots where there were fluttering prayer flags, and locals had made offerings of cloths (shawls? Scarves?) and in some places, I saw sweaters draped over stones. When I asked the sherpas about it at one point, I did not quite understand their reply – that it was so the gods would recognize them when they died, as the person who had offered this particular cloth / sweater – not sure if I understood them correctly.
At some point, Manjari gave up and told Nikhil and me she wanted to turn back. We’d now been at it for probably an hour or two. With worried looks, we summoned Gelbo who looked as worried. He said we’d already come quite some distance, and for him to now go back with her and return in time to catch up with us was difficult. She volunteered to return alone, but he (and all of us) was opposed to that. Also, chances were that by the time she reached Darchen, Khushroo and Gladys would already have left, and she might be alone all the way back to Darchen. Gelbo persuaded her to continue on and we set off again after that little crisis
Anyway, on and on we climbed, some swigging Red Bull to get an extra boost. I refused to try any chemical additives, especially when I’d never drunk it before. Finally, we came to a stretch where we could see people climbing in the distance. The sherpas advised us to stop and eat there, since we were now about to face the climb to Dolma La pass. We found clear slopes to park our backsides and with great anticipation of 3 aloo parathas each, dug our packed lunches out of our backpacks. Opening the foil, we found just about 1 aloo paratha each, which we munched on even as it fell to fragments in our frozen fingers. Having shared out my aloo paratha with couple others, I dug out the 2 hard pieces of yak cheese and ate those as well. The can of orange juice, I stashed back inside – tempting as it was, it felt frozen to the touch, and no way was I going to drink chilled orange juice. In fact, I didn’t drink it till the afternoon of the next day (towards the end of the parikrama, and it was delicious, with chunks of orange – not pulp, but chunks! - in it). With that, we levered ourselves off the ground and started off again
In no time at all, we were again strung out as we followed our separate paces, and finally, came to a stretch where we had to climb a stretch of ice. Careful not to slip on the frozen portions, yet wary of stepping into the slushy portions for fear of getting my shoes wet, I climbed up to find 2 of our sherpas waiting at the top. They advised me not to linger too long there, just catch my breath for about 20 seconds when needed and descend ASAP, as the oxygen levels were very low there. With that bit of advice to be passed on, they left. I waited for the next person – Najeeb – to reach, photographing him and Machhindra as they climbed through the ice, passed on the advice and left myself.
Finally, after passing through some rocky stretches, I came upon a stretch with lots of prayer flags. It was evident that this was the peak or the pass. Kalpa and Tushar were already there and as the rest of our group reached, we took photos and even got some stranger resting there to take a photo of our entire group.
Gelbo, our lead Sherpa offered a shawl there and then we continued.
The sherpas had told us that once we went through the pass, it would be level or downhill all the way …. No way, those mind games were still on and there were still some climbs to be done. In a while, we came upon Gauri Kund – we were looking down upon it from some height and would be passing by it at the same height – not really going any closer to it. I saw a couple clambering down to it, but had absolutely no inclination to follow them. It would probably add something like an hour to my day’s travels and I was in no mood for that. It was a beautiful sight though – frozen solid with different coloured concentric rings showing greenish-blue or aquamarine, almost like an agate!
We toiled on, and at one stage, I came upon a stream or river and I could see Najeeb and Kalpa on the other side resting, waiting for us with 2 sherpas. With a sigh, I started climbing the huge boulders to get across to them – it felt like the toughest part was choosing which boulder would provide the easiest path across. As I stopped to rest and the boulder I was on wobbled, one of the sherpas leapt up and came to my aid and with a firm grip on my wrist got me across the rest of the way with effortless ease. Of course, Najeeb had to mark the momentous event on his camcorder. By and by, the rest of the party joined us and we snacked on whatever we had – some cheese, chikki, boiled sweets etc. And then it was onward,ho!
Finally, the snow and ice disappeared, though the sun never did make an appearance all that day … and at some stage, the long awaited, promised white tent appeared. Lhakpa, Gelbo, Najeeb and Kalpa were sitting outside and Kalpa offered me a drink from the hot Tang she was sipping. Lhakpa disappeared to get me the same, while I just sat and recovered my strength. By now, a cold wind was blowing, sometimes with gritty sand particles – we squirmed and turned to avoid the sand in our eyes, but whichever way we turned, we could not avoid it. The tent was full of a group of Russians, and they were eating noodles and drinking coke and having a good ole time and showed no signs of ever getting up. Finally, Kalpa, Najeeb, Tushar and I squeezed in (the others had not reached yet) and Kalpa and I perched on a cardboard carton while Najeeb and Tushar did the same on another and we tried to embarrass the Russians into leaving – it was worse than an Udupi! We drank hot Tang and after the others joined us and squeezed in too, asked what vegetarian fare was available to us. The answer was nothing – even the vegetarian Wai-Wai noodle would have some non-veg in the masala. So I, in desperation, opted to eat tsampa – made a gruel of it with Tibetan tea and drank most of it down. Was really filling. Kalpa tried some and decided to have some as well, while the others turned away from it.
Finally the Russian contingent left and we were able to sit comfortably on the worn wooden benches with mattress-like cushions. It was tempting to just lie back and fall asleep, with the warmth and the comfort – exactly what Promesh had warned us against. Outside, the wind blew and through the tent opening, we could see snow flurries in the air. We quaked and worried about having to step into it for the further 7 hour trek that lay ahead. The rest of our group finally decided to have Wai Wai noodle without the addition of any masala packet, just salt. Najeeb, Manjari and Nikhil tried it, but from what I could make out, they pretty much left most of it uneaten.
The way was certainly easier after this, in that it was more or less level, but unending. At some point, Manjari was ready to collapse and young Lhakpa hooked his forearm under her armpit and walked her for an hour or two. She told us later she had no idea where she was putting her feet and was just carried along like a child. We were once again strung out at great distances and there were times where I could see no body ahead of me or behind me. Every once in a while, a group of locals would pass me and I’d step aside for any yak trains (yak trains always get priority anywhere on the trail, because they travel much faster, and anyway, you really don’t want to get in the path of a yak – it may just trample right through you) and toil on.
The sherpas kept telling us our night stop was round the base of the next hill – we round the hill, and there’s no mud hut or village in sight, and so we trudge on till finally, finally, I see a collection of mud huts – it’s our night halt of Zutulpuk, and as I approach wondering which one we’re put up in, I hear someone calling out to me from one. Gratefully, I enter a dark, small room – there are 5 mattresses on a continuous platform bed and 2 cots. Kalpa and Najeeb have already ensconced themselves on the single cots and I sink down on the platform to rest my feet (or more my tired thighs). One by one the rest arrive and we celebrate having completed the toughest part of the parikrama and set about battening down for the night. All of us were too tired to eat and the sherpas persuaded to eat a little bit before sleeping – I ladled rice and dal and sabzi all into one bowl, but this was one night, even I was reduced to wasting half the little bit of food I’d served myself. We drank honey water and slept, but not until Najeeb had made the mistake of asking me which bed I’d wanted, and I’d gleefully displaced him from the single cot and taken it over! The door of the mud hut was another antique piece – it had a hinge and cracks in the wooden planks to ensure air circulation, but no way to keep it closed – not from the inside and not from the outside. So a big stone was kept near the door to keep the door closed through the night. In the morning, Gelbo only had to push the door hard to get the stone to move and let himself in to wake us up with his usual “good morning, good morning” in constantly varying tones and volumes
We got up, performed our ablutions, ate rice kheer for breakfast and then packed and set out for the last part of our parikrama. This was the day I saw what I’d heard about at Tirupati and other such places – I saw 3 people, all men, doing sashtang parikrama. This means, they performed a sashtang namaskar (full body prostration), marked the spot where the hands had reached, got up walked to that spot and repeated the process. I saw this in the early hours of the 3rd day of our parikrama – before we’d even started. Have no idea whether they’d been at it through the night or had just started for the day. All each had for extra protection was an apron (maybe leather or canvas or something) and hand pads also of leather or cardboard or whatever.
Anyway, we set off on our final day of the parikrama - this was pretty easy and we could enjoy the scenery, the bridge across the river that was more easily crossed by jumping across stones …. All of it, and before we knew it, we could see Khushroo and Gladys in the distance, looking towards us and waiting for us to reach. As always, we’d got strung out again amd so Kalpa, Najeeb and Machhindra had reached well before me and Tushar, Nikhil and Manjari were behind me, so I crossed the invisible finish line in solitary splendor, raising my arms in a victory sign exactly like I was crossing the marathon finish line. And immediately was wrapped in a hug by Gladys who was then shoved out of the way while Khushroo and then Promesh took their turn, all murmuring congratulations and how are you feeling. Our China guide was there too and as soon as the others also reached, he handed out our official completion certificate with the stamp of the Chinese government on it, marking the date of our parikrama.
We had a round of photos, with the sherpas, without the sherpas, the sherpas alone, Lhakpa marching Manjari …. the entire works. I found I had a cellphone signal, so went off to the side and rang home to inform them of having completed the parikrama and then headed to the Land Cruiser. Clint (our Tibetan driver) was fidgeting with the luggage in the back of the car, so I tapped him on the arm to make him turn round – the moment he saw me, his face broke into a wide grin and he clasped my hand in both his and bowed over them. I believe the Tibetans (as also quite a few Indians, as I found on my return) hold people who have completed this parikrama in great regard, saying only those who have it in their destiny are able to achieve it. So be it – I was just happy to see his friendly calm face, and have a car to sit in again!
It was pre noon on the 29th and we set off for our camp – back on Lake Mansarovar. This time, we chose to stay in the dormitory – with our number down to 9, we all fit in 1 room, and the neighbouring room (dormitory) was unoccupied – so we each took 2 razais and spread one below and one above ourselves for extra warmth and self- pampering! We (Khushroo, Gladys, Nikhil, Manjari and I) then set out to visit Nikhil’s old friend at the tea stall and enjoyed ourselves telling stories and laughing at stupid jokes till the sun went down a bit. Gladys, Kalpa and I then decided to walk down to the lake and dip our rudraksha malas in the lake. I also took my little plastic bottle with the intention of filling it with water
When we reached the edge of the lake, I discovered the edge was so shallow, that it was really difficult to fill the water bottle past the half way mark. Anyway, I filled it that much, swished the rudraksha malas around in the water and that was it – it was chilly and windy and I had no intention of taking a dip, or even wading it the lake, though Kalpa had already taken a dip earlier without telling us
When we drove away from the completion point of the parikrama, our yaks had not yet shown up, so of course, when we reached Mansarovar, we had no kitchen, no duffle bags, no truck, nothing. Promesh asked us what we wanted to eat, and luckily, I’d spotted Maggi magic soup cube packets in Nikhil’s backpack – there by a lucky mistake. We quickly gave Promesh 10 sachets and told him to get us vegetarian Wai Wai noodle cooked with this masala rather than the one that came with the Wai-Wai noodles. So that was cooked in a huge pressure cooker Chinese style – with lots of water – and we all ate about 2 bowls of the “soup” with noodles! Hopefully, that would also help stave off the ill effects of Kalpa’s holy dip!
By and by our truck with our duffle bags came, we powdered and dried our feet, reorganized the contents, especially whatever food was left (Tushar was the only one who had significant quantities of stuff still) and then it was time for soup, dinner and bed.
Next morning, we started out from Lake Mansarovar, Clint doing his usuall chanting at the outset, and headed for Dongpa. We reached Dongpa in the early evening, but spent quite some time in confusion about whether we would spend the night in this mud hut hotel or that. I did not inspect the 2 alternatives but we finally ended up in the one where we’d had lunch during our outward trip – a room where we 4 women shared one room and the 5 men were next door.
Once we’d settled in and got our duffle bags and so on, six of us set out for a walk to the gompa (monastery) we could see just down the road. It was close enough and Kalpa and I (we were quite some way ahead of the guys) reached the place to find it closed. Somebody had given Gladys money to leave at a suitable place, and she’d passed it on to Kalpa. With some debate, we left the money on a ledge outside the monastery where some Chinese money was already lying. Even as we inspected the yak horns inscribed with mantras heaped outside the temple, which was also surrounded on all 4 sides by prayers wheels that Kalpa and I turned, the caretaker entered the gompa carrying a load of water
In sign language he motioned to us to wait, while he put away the water, collected a large torch and keys and opened up the gompa for us. We were quite awestruck – in this tiny little one street village, where we’d pretty much not seen a soul other than tourists like ourselves, this gompa had a huge Budha under a skylight in the sanctum sanctorum,
surrounded on the right and left sides by glass enclosed smaller Budhas.
Behind the huge Budha in the center, was a huge (slightly smaller than the Budha) Tara, with a beautiful expression.
There were lit yak butter lamps set in a row in front of the big Budha and with the caretaker’s permission – Kalpa and I helped ourselves to a couple of unlit lamps on the side, and lit one each before leaving an offering and leaving. The doors to the sanctum sanctorum were guarded by huge rakshas-like statues (dwaarpaalak) and different versions of these appeared in pairs all the way to the outer doors.
With his permission, I clicked a photo of the caretaker as he came towards us after locking the doors, and he immediately wanted to see the picture I’d taken. The expression on his face never changed that I could make out, but presumably, he was satisfied as we took leave of each other
Then it was back to the mud hut and the now daily routine of soup and dinner and bed after drying and powdering our feet – if I took as much care of my face as I did of my feet out there, I guess I’d be quite a beauty!
Next morning, we took an early start after a breakfast of sewai kheer – the one kheer I had steadfastly refused to eat all my life, I now ate 2 helpings of, simply because it was hot and I knew I needed the sustenance! Earlier, when it made its appearance for breakfast, I drowned it in liquidy aloo subzi before downing it. This time, I ate it unadulterated!
We set out driving on and on through the unchanging, yet ever changing brown desert, until we reached Saga. A lot of confusion at Saga as one of our cars did not show up despite our waiting for quite a while. Then some further confusion about getting or not getting permission to eat lunch by the river side and finally, after a lot of waiting around and parlaying that we could not understand, we took off. Suddenly, about 5 of the cars in our cavalcade pulled up side by side in a deserted spot, and the packed lunch was set out for all. But of our 3 cars, 1 (with Najeeb, Nikhil and Machhindra) was missing and we insisted nobody from our group would eat until we caught up with them. So the rest of the lunch was packed up and off we took again till at some 6 pm local time, Promesh insisted we give up on catching up with the runawat car, and just eat. We recognized Paryang and Nyalam as we passed through them and finally reached Zhangmu on the border.
Within the narrow streets of Zhangmu, we hit a traffic jam and one of the other drivers who got out to check told us through gestures, that there was a gridlock! After a few minutes, the same driver conferred with Clint and they both told us through gestures to get out and walk. The stores we’d seen on our outward trip were all closed for the night and everywhere were bright garish lights proclaiming dance bars, discos and the like. With no idea where and how far, we walked through the grid locked vehicles, past a bunch of arguing Chinese guys until we saw Promesh waiting for us outside a hotel that was not a mud hut! The others had reached long before us and rooms had already been allocated. Gladys and I were twin sharing and wonder of wonders, there was an attached bathroom with running hot water!
With tears of joy, I pulled out my last clean change of clothes from my backpack and had a luxurious head bath with hot water – my first since the morning of 21st – 11 days earlier! Unfortunately Gladys was all out of clean clothes and decided to forego the pleasure of a bath till the next day when we were to reach Kathmandu. Refreshed, we collected for dinner in a real live restaurant, with tables and chairs. The food prepared by the restaurant kitchen, was nevertheless served to us by our own sherpas – a strange arrangement that was repeated at breakfast the next day. After dinner, we retired to our rooms and crashed for the night to the sound of disco music pounding through the wall
In the morning Gelbo came and rattled our door to wake us up and after breakfast we set out for the border and immigration. We made good time, and soon, it was time to say goodbye to Clint, who again greeted us with warm smiles and bows over clasped hands. And then, like refugees, we trudged through immigration and across the border bridge. This time too, the Chinese immigration guys made us pass our baggage through the x-ray machine, before making us open up every bag and purse and feeling inside everything while keeping their unblinking eyes fixed on our faces. Probably they’re trained to detect any subtle indication of nervousness we might show when they feel around inside our bags. Anyway, with that, I thanked and wished our China guide goodbye (who actually looked a little taken aback at the courtesy) and walked across the border bridge after handing over our collective passports to Promesh’s representative for processing the Nepali visa.
As we walked across the bridge, we could look into what seemed like a basket ball court of the Chinese border police camp where some kind of training seemed to be in progress. All of us were riveted with something we could not quite understand, or see (it was a little distant and since photography is not allowed, we could not use the zoom lens of the camera to make out what was going on). It looked like 4-5 trainees were taking it in turns to approach one person who then had to be bound and / or subdued / beaten in some way. I noticed everyone of our group kept watching that scene while walking across, though, as far as I know, none of us ever spoke of it. The Chinese police on the bridge watched us watch this drama with their usual impassive and unblinking eyes. It was a sigh of relief that we all heaved, as we walked onto Nepali ground. The weight of Chinese eyes boring into one’s back was finally removed!
We headed back to the old restaurant at Kodari for lunch while our Nepali visas were processed – breakfast at 8, now lunch at 10 am. No problem, we ate lunch, waited for our passports to come back, watched our duffle bags being loaded onto our bus and boarded the bus for Kathmandu. A brief stop on the way to walk across the swaying suspension bridge used by The Last Resort people for bungy jumping where we watched a river crossing in progress, and then it was on again till about 2 pm, when we reached Dhulikhel. Back to the terrace garden for tea (breakfast at 8, lunch at 10 and tea at 2 – how much more Tam Brahm could we get?) and a decent loo stop and then back to the bus for Kathmandu. By 4 we were back in Shanker Hotel and in the process of collecting bags out of storage, bags from the bus and so on
As soon as we got to the room and got our bags back, both Gladys and I started reorganizing – putting all dirty clothes aside and ferreting out whatever clean clothes we had left and so on. Soon it was done, and the floor of the room felt gritty all over. So grimacing at it, we used the bath mat to sweep all the grit into a corner, before Gladys went for her long awaited bath and fresh clothes. And then by prearrangement, we all met in the lobby for our celebratory dinner at the famous Nepali pizza joint of Fire and Ice, where we ate like we’d not eaten in months!
The next day was for generally resting and shopping in Kathmandu. The highlight was dinner that evening, hosted by Prakash’s partner (our Mumbai based tour operator). They took us to a restaurant called Utsav, which served traditional Nepali fare and the diners ate to the accompaniment of live music and traditional dances.
We were greeted at the door by a girl in traditional dress who proceeded to put a tikka on each of our foreheads. Soon after we sat down, Promesh asked if we were all willing to try the traditional Nepali rice wine. Most of us agreed and tiny diya sized earthen cups – truly the size of a diya – were kept beside our plates. The same girl in traditional dress came bearing a samovar like container and she filled each little cup, ending with a stylized flick of her wrist. Promesh told us, the wine was to be drunk like a shot – at one gulp. We all raised our cups in a toast and then tossed the shot back. Got me coughing, but it felt smooth and warm all the way down to my diaphragm, and I swear, I could feel it melting the last remnants of the dry cough I had! And that was the highlight of the meal and the evening, with the dances coming a close second!
