Why am I so excited about TFN'08?

Last week I won the blogging contest and I get to go in the TFN as part of the "media" crew. That was what led me into the contest - to be on the tour. As a bonus, WildCraft - the accessory partner of TFN threw in an all weather tent to go along. Nice... Now I am covered even if my father kicks me out of the house ;-) [not that he would do it... But, just in case...]

But all that is material. There are whole bunch of priceless intangibles that comes along. First and fore most - the people. The positive energy that the organizing bunch have, definitely rubs off. The very fact that the tour has grown to this proportion from being a casual ride plan on bikeszone is a fine testimony of that. This feeling is addictive and feeds on itself. Very soon, it has a tendency to grow out of hand (like the SENSEX in 2007). But this group has both their feet firmly on ground. A perfect blend of gusto and caution.

Secondly, the stars (No, not the Khans... the real ones). I have always been drawn to the mountains (of western ghats) mainly to see the stars. Light pollution in the city makes it impossible to see a clear dark sky. When I say "I like watching stars..." - it is just that. I can not tell one from another. Gazing at a star filled sky fills me with the same feeling of smallness (a happy one) as standing in front of an ocean not being able to see the other end... A star filled sky, moon lit night, gentle breeze... just enough to make the knee high grass create a Mexican wave, a distant hooting of an owl and a relentless cricket concert.... am I getting carried away?

Thirdly - Bragging rights. Being one of the official bloggers on the tour, I would have the second best experience of the tour... (the best would be to ride - of course). I am sure these seven days will give me enough stories to last until the next TFN. Lastly - (Don't laugh) when TFN is over, I would have seen Ooty. 

PS: TFN is organised by Ride A Cycle Foundation. Click to know more.

PPS: I have won many on-line contests before. (no, not the kind that promises rewards if you choose the better dancer between Madhuri Dixit and Cyrus Baroacha). But this is the first time that prize is delivered so quickly. Thanks TFN and WildCraft for being so prompt and sincere.

Day 5: Hemkund Sahib

Rise and shine. As soon as I woke up that day, I checked all my body parts for any discomfort. None found. Thanked R for such simple medicine. Lesson: Salt and water must be taken in ample proportions to avoid cramps. L also gave very sound advice that I should not carry anything more than the camera and the binos. The pittus are specifically hired for carrying the rest. The socialist in me softened a bit and decided to make use of them. I packed my change of clothes into a small packet (god bless dri-fit clothes again) and put it in the bag to be carried by the Pittu. I wore a light T-Shirt and a jacket over it. Warm and Comfortable... and ready to go. After the near horrible experience at breakfast yesterday, we decided to try out "Hotel Deepak", just next door this time. There was one more attraction sitting in the Hotel, that sealed the deal. Most of us opted for English breakfast - bread & butter (lots of them), Hot porridge, and tea. Kumar had a lime juice... and I ate salt. I had come to like it now. After some time, the attraction in the hotel climbed a horse and went away... so did we.

We again came to the fork in the path - left to VOF, right to Hemkund. Q: Why are the two paths so different? A: Horses are not allowed inside the VOF. The one on left is clean and the one on the right is full of horse-shit. Another difference is that the very first 50 meters give you a glimpse of what is to come... steep incline. Hemkund is only perhaps 5 Kms from Ghangria as the donkey walks. In these 5 Kms the donkey has to gain 1300 meters (Ghangria:3048m: Hemkund: 4329m). Even if donkey meander around in 'Z's to tackle gravity, it still amounts to about 25% incline. We are more intelligent than that, we started making smaller 'z' with in the big 'Z' paths... Sure we would have to climb like 7.5 Kms, but the incline would be manageable... Me and R tried this for about a kilometre... Then it got boring and weird. At some time we caught up on L and Kumar. There were nice flowers on either side of the path... but nothing compared to the valley we saw yesterday. We spotted some red-flinches merrily feeding on the invisible grains. And then two more birds that were of the same size... same voice... Only later was I enlightened that all three are the same species - male, female and juvenile. So, avid birdwatchers derive pleasure out of recognising a bird... but three times more. No wonder Mamu kept falling behind. We took some rest at a snack stall... and moved on. There was some road work going on. A group of horses were also anxious to get past us. I did not want to argue with them... In all the commotion, I lost track of Kumar. I assumed he is ahead of me and hastened to catchup. Minutes later I could see a huge glacier at some distance. I felt as if I had a spring in my step. I started taking short-cuts. Taking the 'I' path in stead of 'Z'. But seeing the men and women from Khalsa tribe climb so effortlessly - the enthusiasm rubs off.

At the base of the glacier, it melts and starts a stream. It is perhaps the purest water source possible... I had to drink it. I looked up. I felt like going closer to the glacier... I started climbing towards the right of the stream. I reached the glacier... touched it. It was cold, not as soft as I had imagined it to be. It was just like a gola (grated ice). I took my time... The feeling was very much like being in a temple... can't explain why. But that was how I felt. Since I had gone off path and alone in front of a natural wonder I was seeing for the first time. The moment I turned back, I realised that down was definitely not the way to go. It was too slippery and I did not trust my floaters any more (after yesterday's fall. If I have not written about it, it is deliberate). So I started moving up and side hoping to re-join the path in some time. Actually, the path comes really close to the galcier. From this point, one can see the entire glacier stuck in a wedge between two mountains. Beautiful... I can imagine how bright would it look on a clear day. Time to move on.

I saw a small shrub of the Himalayan Blue Poppy (the majestic neelkamal) with so many flowers. Isn't is beautiful? I went a little off the path to get a close up. This time I made sure that I did not so off that I could not return back the same way. By this time, I came to realise that Kumar must not have been ahead of me or he was possessed by a horse (or some one on it). Nevertheless, it did not make much sense to wait. I carried on. Somebody had written that Neelkanth Peak would be visible from Hemkund... I wanted to see that too. The returning horsemen never tell you how far is the destination. They always waiting for some guy to give up and take the horse to the shrine. As I marched on, I asked a few pilgrims (old men) how far the temple was. They showed me a flag post that seemed two mountains away... That was the holy "Hemkund Sahib". I flaunted my binoculars pretending to guess how long it would take me to go there. The elders also took turns to see the flag post up close... and approved of my gadget.

A little ahead is a fork in the road. There is a easy path of really wide "Z"s or the very steep steps that takes directly to the door step of the shrine. In addition to saving time, the stairs meant that it would give much needed relief from the horses and horse shit. The choice was simple. It was here that I mingled with a troop of pilgrims. They were practising sikhs from some district in Punjab. It was little Jagan's first time in the high mountains. He had a unique way to stall climbing (so that he can get his breath back). He used to volunteer jokes and songs and ask every body to listen. I stayed with this group all the way to Hemkund. They were happy to be my guides. Punjabi is not much different from Hindi and I could get most of the jokes from the punch line. As we came near the shrine, the shout of "Jo Bole So Nihaal" started louder and louder... I joined in with "Sat Sri Akaal" every time. This is in fact a sikh hello, a war-cry, conveys devotion, denotes jubilation and many other emotions. It is a proof of our Indian tradition of remembering God at all time ;-)

Once inside the compound, Sandeep (one of the pilgrims) told me that I should not delay taking a dip in lake. We must do while the body is still warm from the climb. Five dips is what one must do - and it will give lot of brownie points in the heavenly account book. Sir, Yes Sir. I disrobed and went near the ice cold water. I saw that people were jumping out of the water after just one dip... there were a few who survived even 3-4 dips. I reckoned, 5 must really be a lot of brownie points and was determined to get them all... and more bonuses of available. There are iron chains whose one end is fixed on the bank of the lake... I wondered why would iron chains be required to take a dip in hip high stagnant water. I found the answer when I got up from my very first dip. I almost lost my balance. I could no longer feel my foot, let alone make it move on my command. Some reflex action kicked in and regained balance. Two, three four and five... By time I got up from my fifth dip the numbness had hit my head. I collected my points in full and let the bonus points go... Perhaps I would not have survived a sixth. So, this is what people call hypothermia. This is one place, being fat helps. Once out of the pond, I realized that my change of clothes is yet to come... Sandeep, who advised me on the 5-dip-theory sprang out just after one... Did he just con me into spending 10 excruciating seconds in frigid water without proper dry clothes to change into?

Next stop was the ritual of "Matha Tekhna" at the Gurudwara in front of the holy book Guru Granth Sahib. It felt warm inside the Gurudwara. I went round the holy book and touched my forehead on the ground before it. This is Matha Tekhna. After coming out of the Gurudwara, we had hot tea and khichidi at the langar. Langar is the free food service that can be seen in almost all the Gurudwaras. Sikhs never turn back a visitor hungry. Sikh pilgrims consider it sacred to help out in the kitchen and doing dishes. It is a self sustaining process which the temple official only facilitate. With fuel in my stomach, I started to go around.

The lake is surreal. After having seen the water solidified in the glacier, it is hard to believe that such a huge lake can exist at this altitude. On the far side of the lake, one can see glacial water flowing ever so slowly into the lake. The excess water flows out into the mini-hydel project that caters to the power needs of the shrine. Beyond the lake, there are mountains on all the other three sides. On the slopes of these mountains, we can see foot high shrubs of the legendary Brahmakamala. This flower blooms for about 15 - 20 days a year and only above 4000m altitude. The semi transparent pale yellow petals hide the intricate design of the black pot shaped pistils. Its a see-it-to-believe-it kind of flower. I could see trekkers trying to climb those mountains to see what is beyond... Since I was still waiting for my friends to come, I did not want to venture too much. Later I learnt that there is a path that leads to Khag Bhushandi Taal (The lake of the crows) from here. It is supposed the be even bigger than Hemkund and another 1000 metres higher in altitude.

Towards the west of the Gurudwara is the Hindu temple of Laxmana - brother of Lord Rama. While the Sikh legend has that Guru Gobind Singh did meditate here in his previous life, the Hindu mythology says Laxmana meditated here. Similar story lines definitely indicate that this is an ideal place to meditate. I took a couple of photos and videos to tell the story. Again, electronics can just not record emotions. Too many people and the constant noise does irritate a bit. But if you can mentally block them out, this is as close as it gets to heaven. Wonder if potato, onion and raddish grow at these heights... If so, one can live here and declare independence from the rest of the world. Every two years, I would sell some potatoes and buy a new tent and thermals.

Just as I was thinking all kinds of international treaties that I would have to sign with India, China and who else... a thick fog covered the entire area. Visibility got reduced to just 10 feet. Light drizzle, frigid air. I asked a security guard how long would it take for the fog to lift. He said, some time it could take minutes, some time it took days. That day it did not (at least until late afternoon). My friends reached the shrine only now... L and Kumar were the first, then followed by R and then the rest. I played the role of tourist guide - first the pond, then the Gurudwara, then the temple and finally the langar. We got back into the Gurudwara since it was warm in there and they provide thick blankets for all pilgrims. We took ample rest - even slept for a while. Outside, the rain intensified and tourists became more chaotic... just the same effect that a drizzle has over Bangalore traffic. Sorry to remind of hell when we are in heaven.

Nothing notable happened on the way back ;-) More pictures of the Lake here.

Day 4: Valley of Flowers - a walk among the heavens

The razaais (quilts) were very good. I had a well deserved sound sleep - the kind which one gets after hard labour. Climbing Ghangria was no less an ordeal. We were half-woken up by the bhajans sung by the pilgrims going to Hemkund. Later Sanju tells me that it was 5:00AM. Where do these people get the energy to be up so early in such frigid climate? I tried to put off the inevitable  (getting up) as much as possible. 

Bad news was waiting for me as soon as I woke up. Cramps. The previous day's dehydration had finally found a way to assert itself. I tried asking for "Electral" in the local drug store... He blinked twice and asked if a masala lemonade mixture would do. Any salt is better than no salt at all. I bought it paying 10 times the MRP (Re 1/-). I think the shopkeeper - a kid, about 10 years old - saw the pain in my face and knew instantly how badly I needed it - a true White Tiger. After the morning chores, we were all ready for breakfast. This time, we wanted to try something on the way to the Valley of Flowers - Hotel Kuber. We were surprised to see the exact same menu. In fact, it even had the small print "Hotel Devlok" printed at the back. After much deliberation, we all settled for the usual - Onion Parantha and Aloo Parantha. Only one of us broke the shackles and tried Corn Flakes - with disastrous results ;-)

After our breakfast, we were joined by Raghubir Chauan - our botanist guide for the day. He is a short man. His interests include - flower watching, guiding, bird watching, tree watching... all round naturalist. He is a very good photographer too. During the monsoon months, when the valley is open for tourists, he accompanies groups of them into the valley as a guide (for a nominal fee - of course). Most of what comes next is gyan downloaded from him. Even though the official protected perimeter of the "valley of flowers" starts about a kilometer from the Ghangria, Chauhan says geologically even the Ghangria valley belongs to the valley of flowers. The proof of the same was right in front of our eyes - beautiful flowers lined our path all the way. 

After crossing a small makeshift bridge, on our left is a public toilet - courtesy department of sanitation, Chamoli. Beyond that the path bifurcates into two. Left goes to the valley and right goes to Hemkund. There is a check-post where we deposit the entry fees (Rs 50/- per person per camera?) While the modalities were being taken care of Mamu got busy shooting a bird - white beaked brown chested red something. I added some geographical prefix and called it Great Himalayan White Beaked Brown Chested red something. It does sound authentic. Doesn't it? Any way, my mind was not entirely into anything... the hamstring was irritating me like a poorly composed background score of an art movie. I gulped as much "masala lemonade" as I could. The rock salt that was used had a peculiar smell/taste.

The first flower that was caught our guide's attention was the Serpent Lily. Hm... how did it get its name? As we left Ghangria behind, we descended down the valley towards the river. The river that gives us company today is "Pushpavati" (named hence as it originates in the valley of flowers). Since our guide had a very good idea of what to show and what not, he was zipping through these paths. Obviously a wide variety of balsams and innumerable nameless (since we did not know it) flowers did not interest him. He stopped by the smallest flower of them all named "Forget-me-not". Very often he kept telling that we were very lucky since weather was very good and we had to hurry up, so that we could be in the valley while the weather was still good. The next thing he waited to explain was burrow - a hole in a tree. This is the winter home of a honey bear. He did not say anything about its summer habits... which made me a bit weary. The hole seemed did not seem large enough for a fully grown adult. However, even a baby bear could beat me running on one and half legs. Half an hour of walking gets us to a iron bridge across the Pushpavati. There was a huge tree uprooted tree stuck amongst the rock below the bridge. If a tributary of a tributary of a tributary is so ferocious, one can only imagine the power of the Ganga.

After crossing the bridge, there is little up hill path and the real valley unfolds itself. Yesterday, I met this gentleman who was descending to Govindghat and talking to his friend in a familiar Kanglish accent - typical "Hale-Mysooru" mannerisms. I wanted to test if my guess was right and greeted him with a "Namaskara". He immediately took the hint and switched to appata (pure) Kannnada. That was when I realised, only kannadigas us "Namaskara", not "Namste"... not "Namashkar"... not "Namaskaramu"... I found something very simple that was unmistakably identifiable as Kannada. Never the less, I enquired about weather and what I could expect to see... "Swarga saar, Swarga!!" (Heaven! truly Heaven) that was how he described it yesterday. Now I see what he meant. Even in the scriptures, this is the place where heaven and earth meet. This is the abode of Gandharvas (lower caste among Gods). They are "fairy" equivalents in the western mythology. They have enough magical powers to take care of their chores without worrying too much... and spend most of their time singing and dancing. They are known to be scholarly and take their literature seriously.

My leg was still hurting... and I took as many breaks as possible. Chauhan and gang were at least 20 minutes ahead of me. After few more minutes, I noticed a bunch of ladies taking Patel shots one after another... I tried get past them after mustering a muted smile (read: excuse me, excuse me). One of them read my mind and replied - "Look at the Glacier, the first one !!!". Ha... a glacier. A beautiful one, split right in the middle and ready to fall down. "Dear Ladies, this is not a happy picture. Melting glacier will only cause floods and destruction... yada yada yada..." I sighed and went past them without telling a word... I still wonder if that lady really read my mind. Creepy. They say every thing in nature protects itself. This glacier made itself a huge favour by by placing itself at a steeper part of the valley - out of bounds of the people walking up and down the valley. Posing as a background does not hurt it... but making snow balls out of it only hastens the melting process.

After walking past the glacier, we get to see this!! It was worth walking every inch of the way... We are surrounded by mountains on all three sides. We can not see the tops of any of these mountains as mild fog has decided to play hide-and-seek. On the only side that was clear, we can see the snow capped peak of Ratoband (6000m+). Another look around and you definitely know where the "Sadaa Kannali pranayada..." song of Kavirathna Kalidasa was shot - or rather where it should have been. Green grass, blue sky, white mist and a stream of pink balsams. "Swarga saar, Swarga!!!"

As we walk past the colour of the flowers change... from dominant pink to lavender to purple... As one gazes up the mountains on his left, he can see how these flowers have colonized (yes, they are called colonies). There is a definite patter, like a flowing river - from high in the mountains to the stream in the valley. A few days ago, we saw the marvel of confluence of rivers... merging of water of different hues. Today we see a sea of flowers with streaks of red, pink, purple, yellow and blue... Chauhan says the valley changes colour each week. The flowering cycle of these plants is so well adjusted that they do not seem to fight with each other at all... the bees/flies of the area have their hands full for the entire monsoon. 

There are flowers whose names only Chauhan can remember... I can only describe them thus: flowers with beard, with a tail, with horns, double colour, multi-colour, guess-my-colour and what not. There were flowers that were bell shaped, candle shaped, onion shaped, pickle (close cousin of cucumber) shaped, horn shaped. There were tiny ones smaller than fly... with petals as thin as needles... One odd thing though, there were not many fragrant ones. I put 2 and 2 together and assumed that it must be because most of the insects of the area must have been photosensitive and not the smell-catching kind. There are however a few - wintergreen and thyme. Wintergreen is edible and is used to make Iodex. Now you know why I stressed on the edible part ;-)

The visitors do have their part in the nature. Look at how they perform their solemn duty of pollination. Look at the flourishing balsams along the path. The only danger is when they unknowingly bring seeds of some dominant species that can potentially spread like a virus and destroy the colonies. Luckily, there are very few species of flowering plants that can survive in this cold weather. More over, to succeed here you must make the most of three months of sunshine. After walking for about two hours (that did not seem like it though) we come to a huge rock. There were already some people on it, Chauhan one among them. The view from the top of the rock is not that different from the ground below... An elevation of 20 feet can not change your perspective when you are surrounded by (4000m+) mountains. Nevertheless, I had to climb it... in spite of aching hamstring. Bad decision. I became even more slower. This is usually the place normal tourists head back - those who do not have an able guide like Chauhan.

He promised that the scenery was even better if we walked two more kilometres. Again he reminded us that very rarely does weather co-operate like this and we should not miss the opportunity. Onward we marched. He was right. It was like walking from the doorway-to-heaven to heaven itself. The valley becomes broader and we could see clearly till the very beginning of the stream. Chauhan kept showing us wonderful flowers and explained their intricacies using his pocket lens. At some point, it did become meaningless - in a good way. What was that Shakespeare said about a rose... whatever. He surely was not here, even in his dreams. At the fourth or fifth stream, he decided it was time to head back - after lunch.

We had flavoured jolada rottis (somebody please translate), loads of chikki, almond sticks (you get it some where in Gandhi Bazzar). I was concerned about de-hydration. So I drank water from every stream we crossed and re-filled the bottle as often as I could. If there was something called over-hydrating, I would have got it that day. Chauhan had timed it to perfection... half way back, it started to drizzle and wind picked up. Need I describe how a mountain side would look when white clouds go past green pastures only to be scattered by the wet and shining rocky tops. The light was still intact. Would have made pretty pictures. But pictures could have told even half the story. There is a reason why they do not allow people (however decent and green you are) to camp inside the park... They would have a tough time to vacate them. 

The journey back sad... L and me kept a brisk pace. Little did we talk. There were people still coming into the valley. We did not have the heart to tell them that it was raining, and they will probably tick the valley off their list without even seeing its doors. There was a group of people (mostly middle aged) that visited Hemkund in the morning, and planned VOF for the afternoon. That does not do any justice... neither to Hemkund, to the valley nor to the tourist. We took a small break at the Galcier... clicked a few Patel snaps for others. We still did not talk much. I think silence is a normal response after witnessing something magnificent. The next stop was the bridge. This is a favourite spot for weary travellers to pick themselves up. There is always something about flowing water and clarity!! Hm... for me it was much more than that... a level rock, cool wind meant 30 minutes of most satisfying afternoon nap.

Chauhan realised that Mamu was disappointed with the valley since he did not spot any bird. He took Mamu on a detour with a promise that he would show him some nesting sites. Soon they disappeared into the woods. My leg was slightly better now. L had come out of meditation of some sorts, and were ready to head back to the hotel. As soon as we reached the hotel, I made it a point to take ample rest - slept like a baby. I heard all the others trickle by one by one. When it was night fall, they woke me up for supper - Hotel Himalaya again. But this time, we ate some pulkas and stuffed tomato (stuffed with grated paneer). As suggested by R, I ate as much salt as taste would permit. Hopefully tomorrow would be a good legs day !!!

Wondering why there are no photos of flowers in the "Valley of Flowers" description? Watch them all here : http://picasaweb.google.com/kawale.pravin/ValleyOfFlowers#

(Fair use and disclaimer: Photos are not from our trip. It is from Pravin Kawale who visited the valley a week before us. But we saw the same set of flowers. He is a much better photographer than me ;-) )

The trek, rain, shine and joy

Up at 4:30. The night was so short. We had to divide our luggage into two. First set, we would carry with us to Govindghat and the other would join us after we came back from there. Thanks to the Dri-fit variety of clothes for I could squeeze all 3 day worth of clothes into my back-pack.

The girls expectedly took a lot of time - pack, re-pack, cross-pack, inter-pack and various other kinds of experiments were done. They finally concluded that what you do not need for 3 days, you may not need for a life time... so they ended up packing most of their stuff into the three day bag. Once the bags got sorted out, we were all set to go. From here on, the roads are really narrow and treacherous. Hence, they (locals) have worked out a nice time-sharing plan. Every alternate two hour slot is designated to each direction. Two hours is the approximate time required by a slow vehicle to go from one check point to the next. Between those check points (called gates), the drivers can be rest assured that there will not be any on-coming traffic. Since the taxi-drivers very well understand that this arrangement is for their safety, they adhere to the time limits strictly and do not attempt to bend the rules. However, there are always some brash, moronic self driven tourists who miss the time limit and dangerously pose themselves as unexpected oncoming traffic. We did make the Joshimath - Govindghat gate in good time. On the way we did see the Hydro Electric project at Vishnu Prayag, the base of ITBP (Indo Tibetian Border Police), the base of Gharwal Rifles (Para military outfit). There is no other sign of civilization between Joshimath and Govindghat.

[left: Hiring the Pittus, intense negotiations]

Govindghat is a stop-over town. There is nothing permanent here. Hotels, Restaurants and temples all are made only for the tourists and pilgrims – mainly pilgrims visiting Hemkund Saheb, one of the most holy places for the Sikh community. Its is again a single street city (you can not get lost here…) the street ends in a bridge. Across the bridge, the trek to Ganghria beckons. But before that, we had to get tick off two big “to-do”s – break-fast at Nany’s restaurant and hire the Pittos. Pittos are porters who carry luggage for those who wish not to carry themselves. For the benefit of both Pittus and the travellers, the whole process of Pittu hiring is organized. Every Pittu has an ID card that is deposited with the traveller at the point of hiring. The traveller pays for the Pittus in advance, but not to them directly. Money is placed at the organization counter (kind of an Escrow) – for which he gets a reciept. At the end of successful and satisfying trip the ID card and the reciept are handed over to the Pittu, who then encash the reciept for cash. No Pittu is allowed to operate out of the system. This ensures both minimum pay for the Pittus and safety of the traveller (and his belongings). We finally hired two of them because one of them sopke broken Kannada and the other was his friend. I forget their names… How rude?

[right: River Lakshmana that we followed through out the valley. It has its origins in the Holy Lake of Hemkund or Lakshmanatheertha]

Once the Pittus were hired, the journey starts after crossing Alaknanda. The 13 Kms trek to Ganghria can be done on foot, on horse back, on a doli (for old people) or the back of a pittu (for little children). The path is well laid out. One can not get lost. However, since the digestive cycle of horses are not under anybody’s control the path is littered all around with horse shit. If you are on this trek, you are forced to rewrite the proverb “You can take the horse to the loo, but you can not make it crap”. I know that it is bio-degradable, and we are better off with horse shit than plastic, and we have to learn to live together with nature and all such fundas… but the fact of the matter is that it is still horse-shit and shit stinks. There was a weather forecast for rain/thundershowers. From the ground condition, it looked as though it had rained the previous day also. Hm… horse shit, rain, muddy path. We are going to have a heck-of-a-trek today.

[right: One of the innumerable Water falls across the valley. Can you spot the Great Himalayan White Snow Leopard? Neither did we...]

Trekking in the Himalayas is not very from trekking in Western Ghats. He he he… that’s totally a frog-in-the-well comment. Its totally different. The gradients are different. The altitude is much higher. The air is cool (not humid). The vegitation, birds, butterflies everything is different. For me, everything is also new. Thanks to the Binauculars-101 class that Mamu gave me yesterday, I was enjoying the scenery/birding more. The seven men group soon split into 3 + 4. The first three kept pace with the fast Pittus and soon were out of sight. In the back group were mamu, Sneha, Roopa and me. 13Kms to cover, entire day for that – how hard can it get? So we took it really easy. Taking time off at every bend, at every breath taking view, at the sight of every waterfall. Yes, there was a water fall to be seen almost every half hour. It is not those monsoon streams falling off a cliff that we call waterfalls in the south. These were really tall 200+ feet falls. Thankfully they were all on the other side of the valley and totally inaccessible. Hence there was no need to fight off the temptation of taking dip. The mountains on either side kept growing on us as we walked further.

[left: Ladies of Gharwal, Beauty is in the air here]

We ticked off Kilometer after Kilometer, each one being slower than the previous.Spotting a bird here, a wild flower there. Talking to people coming back, some tired, some jubilant. Everybody were mesmerised by what they had seen at the Valley and Hemkund. They said it was nothing short of heaven. I imagined, there must not be any horses there… no horse, no horse shit. A couple of Gharwal ladies were on their way back from daily routine of collecting grass for their cattle. They agreed to be photographed. People here are surprisingly aware of their right to say no... and rightly so. At the beginning, we were going slow because we wanted to soak in the beauty around us (in spite of horse shit). After 4-5 Kms, we were slow because we could not go any faster… even if we wanted to. Water bottles were with Pittus who were too far ahead. No Glucose, No Electral and no sign of the forecasted rain. In stead it was a hot and de-hydrating day. “On ward we move…” I kept telling myself to keep myself motivated. There is a free medical camp mid way if at all pilgrims get injured/sick. There are two state-of-the-art foot massage machines, powered by a diesel generator.

[Right: One of the many shops to keep the food coming, as long as you do not mind the x2 price tag. L was thrilled at seeing the calendar]

At around 2:00 PM we were at the mid way point. There is a hotel there by that name. That triggered of the thought of hunger. We had quick make-shift lunch – Maggie with vegetables. Rs 30/- for the same. We had lime water at some other place. Rs 20/- per glass. All the shops have identical pricing to take competition out of the picture. Since the number of travelers are way too high, every body gets as many customers as they can handle. So, they do not see the need to compete on prices. After these two surprises, we made it a point to know the price of anything before we order. This was hardly a snack and we moved on.

Powered and rejuvenated by the pit stop, our speed picked up for the next few minutes – only to be brought to a complete halt by wet weather. Where did that come from? Just 30 minutes ago, the sky was spotlessly clear. We quickly draped ourselves with the rain-coats we bought at Govindghat. A rain-coat is called “barsati” here and I had a US Army barsati – bright and red. Once we had that on, rain did not bother us. And the rain surely lifted our spirits up, and also that of our location - waterfalls, trees, mountains and the river below - all seemed to be singing and dancing to the tune of the rain. Too bad, we had packed all our cameras inside – safe and dry. We kept walking taking lesser and lesser breaks since there was no decent place to sit… horse-shit + rain + slush + brand new US made raincoat, there was no way I was going to stop anywhere. With just 3 Kms to go, we were welcomed into one of the restaurants by our very own Kumar. It was about 3:30PM... and lunch was definitely due. Guess what? Alu Parantha and Onion Parantha again. Since it was almost tea time, and rain had just eased a bit, we also gulped 2 cups of tea each ;-) This was the first time we came so close to the river. This is the only restaurant that is on both sides of a river with a makeshift wooden plank acting as a bridge. I gauged the temperature of the water by washing my hands in it... 3 seconds and I could no longer feel my palm. It was that frigid. It is understandable because the water was only couple of hours away from its source, a melting glacier.

[left: a million streams run down soon after rain, forget the foreground]

We moved on. We had to make good progress because it gets dark too soon on the mountains. It started pouring again. While my Solar sneakers held on well, Roopa’s Nike gave up. We had to do some creative engineering to keep it from falling apart - at least till Ganghria where we could buy new foot wear. As the rain got heavier, surprisingly our spirits were much lighter. No pain, No worry, just march on - horseshit or otherwise. I don’t know why I started singing loudly - “Appadi podu podu...” (Moto Rokr). Two more hours of walk-stop-walk and the terrrain eased a bit. It was clear we were in the Ganghria valley. The rain had also eased. The scenery that surrounded us was surreal. We were surrounded by high peaks on all sides. There were numerous rain fed streams on all the nearby mountains. It was as if the mountains wore silver ornaments all over. On the distant peaks, glaciers and snow made them look majestic. Truly we were “in” the Himalayas.

[right: Look for the melting glaciers on the far off mountains. Entry to Ganghria.]

Ghangria is again a city carved out for the tourists. GMVN has a hotel and a dormitory. However, they get filled pretty soon. There are numerous hotels. Rs 1000/- per room per night is the normal price. But, don’t expect any thing more than basics. We managed to get acco at Mary Cottage, 2^nd floor. The hotel quickly fixed the leaky roof. We decided to use one room exclusively to dry our clothes and rest in the other two. The rest of the evening was spent in shopping (for better rain-coats, Roopa’s foot wear), dinner at Hotel Himalaya, phone-calls to home (Rs 20/- per minute) and exchanging pictures and comments.

New friends:

In front of the GMVN guest house, mamu sighted the “Little tree creeper”. Since the bird was also in a photo shoot mood, he was clicking away to glory. His interest in seemingly insignificant bird raised a few eye-brows. However, people who know the trade were pleasantly surprised and appreciative. One of them was Ragubir Chauhan. He is a Botanist by profession and owns a souvenir shop in Ghanghria, selling photos, DVDs and books on the valley. He also accompanies groups into the valley as a guide. A very nice man.

In the middle of all the rain, we met Prahlad from Bangalore. He will join PES college for engineering. A jolly young man, sadly with a heavy bag. He found himself in the alone in a group of 52 - to slow to be with the leading group, faster than the slowest. We gave him some company for a Kilometer or two trying to up his spirits ;-)

Suguna aunty. She was so kind to us. I have seen very few of them who talk so pleasantly to strangers. God bless her.

Drive through the mountains – Rishikesh to Joshimath

Two full months after the trip, and still no trip-report. This has some reasons - albeit frivolous. One, work pretty much sucks. Second, I have come to realize that words just do not make justice to the wonders that we witnessed during that week. It is truly befitting that Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson) on "Bucket List" chose ‘seeing the Himalayas’ to tick off the "Witness something magnificent".

Our journey from Rishikesh to Joshimath may have been ordinary and routine for the locals (like our driver - Jaypal Khanduri). But for some of us who were seeing the Himalaya's for the first time, it was nothing short of magnificent. Yesterday, I saw Ganga for the first time. Today, I am seeing Himalayas for the first time. We saw numerous rope bridges built across the Ganga. One of the first was at Marine Drive. A beautiful winding drive of about 4-5 Kms clinging to the Ganga, just like its name sake in Mumbai. It is maintained in top form and aptly named by the BRO - Border Roads Organization. One is bound to imagine what would happen if BRO were not there... All our destinations would be multi-day treks instead of 12 hour drives. Not too bad.. eh?

The early morning fog on the Ganga looked nothing less mystic as the Amazon. (My knowledge of the Amazon is only from the movie with J Lo and the snake). The river passes through valleys and bends around mountains to make wonderful beaches at the bends. It is difficult to believe that water takes the path of least resistance. Looking at the tall trees, boulders and parts of mountain devoured by Ganga along her way, it only looks like she does not choose least resistance. She just chooses a path on her whim and quells all resistance on that path. We just have got the cause and effect wrong.

The rest of the morning was interestingly-boring. It is a new term, when people get bored of seeing too many interesting things. We had a late breakfast at Kaudiyala (at Monal Restaurant. I guess?). We had Alu-parantha and Onion-parantha - loads of them. Little did we know that our familiarity with these two specific dishes would only increase as we gain altitude? Beyond that point, the roads got more treacherous and scenery got more beautiful. Deep gorges, Rock cut roads, Landslides, terrace farming, rope bridges, rain and shine became the order of the day.

We reached Joshimath a little after sunset. Joshimath is a town bustling with travelers. It is small pack of activity amidst total wilderness. For six winter months in an year, this is the last bit of active town along this route. We quickly finished darshan of some of the most holy shrines for Hindus. A cave where Adi Shankara performed long term penance and composed some of his best works, the present Jyotirmath - winter office of the Shankara Math of Badri and so on... By night fall, we again were faced with the same old question. What to eat? And where? Thanks to some heightened level of cleanliness consciousness, we shuttled from hotel to hotel before finally ordering food from a restaurant with open kitchen. However, we could never be sure where the food came from... since restaurants seemed to loan food whenever there was some kind of liquidity (turn-over) crisis ;-)) We retired to the cozy beds under the thick blankets wishing it were a long night. Ha ha ha... we had to be up by 4:30 to be on time for the next-day's oprdeal.

Breakfast at Kaudiayala, lunch at Rudra Prayag, tea at Pipalkoti and dinner at Joshimath. That pretty much describes day-two of our trip which saw us drive past three of the four holy prayags - Dev Prayag - confluence of Alaknanda and Bhagirathi, Rudra Prayag - Alaknanda and Mandakini, Karna Prayag - Alaknanda and Pindari.

(from Left: Dev Prayag, Rudra Prayag, Karna Prayag)

Day 1: An evening by the Holy Ganga.

The train from Delhi to Haridwar was almost on time. We quickly got in and loaded all the luggage. Mamu was kind enough to give me company since my seat was away from the rest of the gang (I was a late addition to the trip). His real interest may have been the person sitting next to me - Joanna, a brit medicine intern. As the train started moving, she started speaking to Mamu in her broken Hindi. Mamu's Hindi was worse... They quickly dropped the pretense and switched to something more convinient - English. She was in India for her summer internship spending four weeks in Lansdowne and four weeks somewhere in Tamil Nadu. 

One thing I love about traveling by Shatabdhi is the food. They just keep it coming. Early morning tea was followed by good hot breakfast. After enduring the cold dinner on board the JetLite, this tasted yummy. It was indeed yummy. While I was trying to engage Joanna in some cultural exchange ;-) Mamu was engrossed himself in spotting various birds outside the train - Herons, various egrets, peigons and so on... About five hours later we reached Haridwar. The city has nothing extravagent. But, the people make it very colorful, strikingly colorful. We made ourway through the sea of piligrims and got out of the station.

Vikram: Rishikesh is about 30 Kms from Haridwar. There are trains and buses that ply between Haridwar and Rishikesh. However, the most fun way to reach Rishikesh is to go by a Vikram. Vikram is a over grown auto rickshaw. It can seat six people easily - eight with some difficulty. It has ample luggage room on the top. Most of its weight comes from the armour - and it is surely built for combat. The driver showed off his dexterity all along the way... once in a while reminding us why such an armour makes sense. The thirty kilometers took more than an hour to pass by. In that hour, the weather had eased from being extremely dusty and sultry to something more managable. A light drizzle also helped cool things down. But what took my breath away was my first look at the mighty Ganges. 

The Ganga resort is surrounded by mountains. The Ganges makes her entry from behind some of those mountains, flowing past the famous Ram Juhla and Laxman Juhla (hanging bridges of Rishikesh), past numerous ghats, jumping and dancing over the rocks before nearing the resort. For a distance, one can not make out the force of her current. She appears to be gently ambling her way through. It is only when you get close or get your feet wet, you can know her real power. Pilgrims on the ghats show their respects to Ganga a variety of offerings - flowers, fruits, food and so on. Even funeral rites are also done. In spite of all the noble intentions, they end up polluting the river. The resort however, is very secluded from the hustle and bustle of the ghats. Lunch at the resort was simple and sumptuous. But some of us found it to be very bland. The bill however was a surprise - 1000 bucks for seven people was clearly on the costlier side. But this was only warning signs of what was to follow in the coming days.

After a quick rest, we started towards down town Rishikesh - which is enssentially a two street town - one on either side of the Ganges. the two streets are connected by two hanging bridges couple of kilometers apart. Our fist stop was Laxman Jhula - Laxman's Swing. The ride from the resort to Laxman Jhula was on a Vikram and costed Rs 7/- a piece. Some haggling with the enthusiastic guides and a deal for our guided tour was made. Rs 30/- for half an hour of expert service. The guidance available was limited to reciting the names of all the temples and urging us to go in. He even tried to incite us into doing some shopping at a "favorable" artifacts shop. The boring tour ended at the Laxman Jhula - home of a colony of monkeys. They make their living on generous left-overs and gift from their human cousins. On the way to the Jhula, hawkers sell monkey and fish food to be consumed by these fellas. 

At Laxman Jhula, we crossed the Ganga on to the other side of Rishikesh. This side is colonized by the langurs. Like the dogs, cows and the horses in Rishikesh they are also pretty happy to be living amidst humans. There is an astonishing number of dharma shalas where poor and helpless travelers can avail shelter and free food. Long live the donors who keep these institutions running. A jeep ride took us from Laxman Jhula to Ram Jhula. Rishikesh is also known for delicious jilebis. We inquired at a couple of sweat-meat stalls and shops. Apparently it is a mornings-only dish. Nevertheless, we entered the Geeta Bhavan determined to have some sweet or the other. Lakshmi zeroed in on besan-ki-burfi. Um... it just melted on its way in.

Near Ram Jhula is a famous ashram by name - Paramartha Nikethan. Here is where the famous "Ganga Arthi" of Rishikesh takes place every evening at 6:15 PM (ish). We were right on time. We bought the artis (Rs 5/- a piece) and made ourselves comfortable in the first few rows. A young priest was kind enough to guide us to the vantage point. Later all kind of people (common and the privileged) started pouring in. A BJP convention was arranged in Rishikesh on the week-end. How can high Profile MLAs and their wives miss the aarti? Every body wanted a front row seat. This led to some confusion and over packing. The aarti in itself was a very satisfying experience. Bhajans, shlokas were chanted by priests and mesmerized devotees. This was followed by hundreds of people lighting their aartis and letting them afloat in the river. The river seemed to respond by increasing her fervor. It was finally concluded by the head priest who thanked all the VIPs for coming and pledged support in the upcoming elections... what a let down to the otherwise exhilarating spiritual experience.

Dinner had to be at the Chotiwala - the most famous hotel in all of Rishikesh. Chotiwala means "a guy with the topknot". There are two such hotels, probably brothers who inherited equal rights over the name. Both of them use live mascots to attract travelers, whether or not they are hungry. The food is ordinary, but the service is enthusiastic. We tried to find out about "the gharwal speciality" if one existed. Perhaps because Rishikesh is a traveller's city, it caters more to visitor's choice than its own. Hence all that the hotelier's could recall were varities of kheer and dal.

By nightfall, all the mendicants had resigned for the day and resorted to smoking pot. We crossed the Ganga again, this time by the Ram Jhula. A ride from Ram Jhula to Ganga resort during the day would have costed just Rs 5/- At night however, it only depends on how hard a bargain you can drive. We settled for Rs75/- for all of us together.

The Maari Jaatre [ last part of the five ]

Maari jaatre in Sagara is held once in three years. It is a fortnight long festivities in honour of the town deity - Maarikamba, mother who slays all evil. Maari is worshiped by all castes of Hindus and hence the festival gets the support of one and all in the neighbouring hundreds of villages. Since it is election year, quite a few ticket aspirants seem to have let the money flow freely so that they could get as much publicity as possible during the jaatre. Hoardings and banners were seen as far as in Shimogga. Although all castes worship the deity, they way they do it different. On the first day of the jaatre, it is the brahmins who do the pooja in the form of elaborate rituals involving some Yajnas and Homas. Very few men known as purohits do the pooja on behalf of all other brahmins. On the subsequent days the other castes do their poojas. Their pooja is more broad based unlike the brahmins. Until recently there was the custom of sacrificing a kona (male buffalo). This year following intense objection from the animal rights organization, it has been toned down a bit. Now only some blood is drawn by doing a small incision. The kona lives to see another day and its stature raises - almost divinity. Usually most of such fairs end with a grand cart pulling ceremony - usually on the last day. However, since we visited the jaatre in the middle of it, we would not know how it is done in Sagara. All these rituals are done in morning and evenings are exclusively for making merry.

In front of the temple there is a stage. Every day, renowned artistes of Karnataka perform for a couple of hours. On Friday, it was the turn famous light music singer MD Pallavi to entertain us. Just when we arrived there, she started the ever so popular "elli jaarito manavu...." We listened to her complete the song... But since the inflow of people to the event was far greater than the number of seats provided, we had to just move on. At the corner of the street, the same was being projected on a huge screen. There was live relay of this through out Sagara on a local cable network. Technology rocks. After the famous artistes, it is the turn of the local talents to show off. School children, and enthusiastic housewives form a handy pool of talents. Add to the natural excitement the anxiety of being on TV... we get a lot of comedy and amidst all that, some really useful exposure for genuine talent.

On one side of the stage was the queue to give offerings to Maarikamba. The queue was running into at least a thousand people. Each one had one set of Hannu-Kai material. It is the traditional offering to the deity consisting of - A coconut, couple of bananas, flowers - usually chrysanthemum or varieties of dahlia, incense sticks, camphor, a packet of Kumkum (vermilion) and turmeric. The coconut is cracked open in front of the deity. Cocunut water forms the base for theertha after being offerered to hte goddess. The banana's skin is peeled just a little as if to make believe that Maari accepted the fruits. Camphor and incense sticks are lighted and circled clockwise in front of the goddess. This is to please Maari with the good scent. After all these, flowers are circled around every thing that is offered and hurled at the feet of the goddess. That completes the offering for one worshiper. The archakas (people who perform the above ritual) are so efficient that the queue of thousand people does not seem stuck at all. After the offering procedure, the Hannu-Kai material becomes prasadam.

The jaatre perimeter starts almost a kilometer from the temple. Vehicles are not allowed in this area - thank fully so. The sheer amount of people simply amazed me. Most of them, like us, were not keen on buying anything - just watching and waiting for anything to catch their eye. The whole road was lined with merchant stalls from all over the country on one side. On the other side of the road are the foodie carts - Bhelpuri, masalapuri, gobi manchurian, churmuri, dosa, chilli bhajji, jilebi, masala papad and what not... Mind you... all these are out side the food court which officially hosts countless other stalls.

So many people, so many conversations happening at the same time... What is a jaatre without whistles and children running around blowing them? whistles and horns of various kinds form the base noise of the jaatre. We bought a dozen of them for each one of our team in Bangalore ;-). Then there is melodious flute by the flute merchant. I know I will not be able to re-create the melody if I bought one. In spite of craving for one, I stayed away. Then there are the cloth merchants calling for people to visiting their stalls - "3 trousers for a hundred", "2 tee for fifty"... "limited stock left"... "only in this jaatre"... and so on. The ice-cream carts (such a permanent fixture in jaatres) were not going to stay quite either... vanila, pista, strawberry, chocolate, "3 cups for ten rupees", "cone for five rupees", "come and taste it, pay only if you like"... The loud speaker every now and then reminds people to be aware of their children and other valuable belongings. Every now and then a Bhadrappa or a Chandre Gowda is requested to come to the information center because their beloved wives have lost track of them (probably they were engrossed in trying out the imitation jewelry too long). I bet the husbands are giving each others a hi-five and eating Davanagere Benne dose together. After a while a little boy went on to report its parents were missing. Amidst all these, I closely followed Vinaya and Sneha making sure I never lose sight of them. I knew how to get back to Vinaya's house... But my geography went for toss under all those disco lights. Every direction looked the same as the other.

I will try an describe some of the stalls to the best of my understanding. The most famous stalls (no surprises there) were those selling toys - all kinds of them. Cheap plastic ones from china have swarmed the market. Cars, buses, trucks, guns, water guns, canon shots, mobile phones and anything that can be made of plastic could be found there - seriously, even chairs, buckets, mugs and other house hold items. I even picked up a Rubick's puzzle for 20 bucks. Haggling is the order of the day. Items can be usually bought at half the initial offer price. Next most popular item for sale was jewelry - imitation of course. For villagers (most of who are BPL) who get to see them once in three years - the excitement is as good as seeing the real ones. Ladies of the house usually get a jaatre grant from the patriarch of the family. Add the year long savings (form rounding off expenses) to it and they have a tidy sum to blown away during the festivities. They use this very judiciously to get all the girls of the family all the decorations they need until the next fair - nail polish, ear-rings, neck-laces, bangles, hair-band, ribbons, fancy clips, bracelets, anklets... Next attraction for the ladies was the guy selling Mehendi stickers, rangoli stencils and other day-to-day items that sell cheaper during the fair. Like always, women start buying even if they do not need it - in the name of "anticipating the future need".

Another item that was popular was the miss-universe beauty crowns. Ah! which little girl can walk away from one? Just like the boys find it very hard to go past the mask guy selling spider-man, bat-man, clown, chucky masks. Women however get glued to the stalls that sell kitchen-ware. Dining sets, coffee-sets, plates, soup-bowls, and a whole lot of other china-ware. China-ware now refers to that they are all "Made-in-china" not that they are "made of porcelain". The handle-with-care tag is now replaced with for-rough-use because are cheap. The college students swarm the poster vendors to pickup portraits of their idols. MS Dhoni seems to be the flavour of the season closely followed by SRK. There were no takers for the posters of Gandhi, or Bose - partly because they are out of fashion, and partly because the painter did a shoddy job. Gandhi was seen laughing as if he just heard a new sardarji joke.

Since there were so many stalls selling boys toys, the doll makers for the little girls did not want to stay behind. Fairies and fancy hats were sold exclusively for the girls. There was one stall just meant for key-chains. Pretty fancy ones. There was the ever popular smiling buddha, the "I love You" heart shaped ones, the cricket bat ones... One could even personalize them by writing names on the key chains. Lastly, the bags... How many bags does one person need? I fail to understand the logic behind such huge collection of bags. There were at least a couple of stores with tens of thousands of bags in each one of them. Are they banking on people shopping beyond their estimated carrying capacity and there by buying more bags? or are the people of Sagara are simply of the "bag loving" kind (- multi baggers)?


The next stop was the food court. There was separate area ear-marked for food vendors. Just like the Bangalore malls, one could buy from any vendors and get it to a common place to eat. Just that the prices were only a fraction of what they would cost in Bangalore. Since Vinaya's mother had fed us really well before we left for the jaatre, the food court failed to attract us. There were a couple of sweetmeat stalls that were selling the signature bendu-battasu-sakkare kaadi. This is a permanent fixture in any fair all across Karnataka. All are made from sugar and some flour - thereby hugely popular with the kids and those with a kid-like heart. Sakkare kaddi means sugar stick... and that is exactly what it is. There is another variety that has a khara kaddi (something like a chakkli), or fried channa dal in the middle. Those are popular among adults since they are not overly sweet.

What fair can be complete without high excitement rides. We took a ride on the huge giant-wheel. It has about 12 cars each capable of seating 4 people. However, no body would be comfortable if more than 2 sat in them. Its costs a nominal Rs25/- per ride. It started out slow and only later slowly picked some speed. I kept praying that the kid in the car above mine did not throw up. He closed his eyes out of fear during the second turn and did not open untill we were done ;-) From the top of the wheel, one could see real the extent of jaatre... the maari gudi, the mout ka kua, and a sky view of all other rides. Only after we got down did we come to know about the accident that happened the previous day at the giant wheel. One of the cars had come off... and two people plummeted to the ground. One did not survive the fall and other was critically injured... The wheel owners had eloped immediately, fearing being lynched by any mob. The wheel was grounded for a day and let to be operational only after a thorough inspection. But how much confidence can one put on these inspections? Had we known this earlier, we may have not ventured on the ride. Truly, ignorance is bliss. Other rides were tora-tora, various merry-go-rounds, trains and so on... net result of all of them would only be cerebral dis-orientation... There was this mout-ka-kua where motor cyclists would dare to ride (and perform antics) on the walls of artificial well. They defy the gravitational force by countering it by the centrifugal force. That is how fast they must be. Since there was a long queue for it and limited excitement for us (all three of engineers who knew the laws of physics) we let it pass.

The fair did not show any signs of winding down at all... but my legs had started to hurt. We had to head back home for dinner. Every night there would be a Yakshagana (folk drama enacting stories from mythology, very famous in coastal and malanad Karnataka) at the Gandhi maidana (= gound). People wander the streets of the fair till midnight and then proceed towards the Yakshagana stage. Typically that lasts till day break next day. Then they catch buses to their respective villages and go home looking to come back in the evening.

One thing was glaringly apparent. No matter what a person worries about at other times, he is oblivious to all such matters at the jaatre. Happiness quotient in a jaatre shoots through the roof. Clearly, you don't need money to be happy.

I may have just one more post if Vinaya reminds me of some thing that I have missed ;-)