Mountain Mania

Himachal Pradesh always enchants me, so I didn’t think twice when I got the opportunity to visit a village near Kareri in Himachal Pradesh.Himachal Pradesh is lovely with its majestic mountains and lush greenery. I feel it is my second home, which calls to me wherever I am. I felt a kind of connection the very first day I set foot there. That feeling—a mix of joy, excitement, and mystery—is stirred by the foggy mountains, the unpredictable weather, and the lovely people, creating a perfect potpourri that draws one irresistibly to Himachal. It is a long walk through the mountains from the last bus stop to reach the place—remote but green. It is enveloped by thick, forested mountains, as if to guard the tiny village. I was literally exhausted after a one-hour mountain walk, while my co-walkers—mainly mountain boys—seemed as fresh as ever! I am familiar with the mountains around Dharamshala, but this area was far more remote and isolated from modern amenities. There was a wedding going on, and all the villagers had gathered at the bride’s place. I was warmly welcomed into my friend’s home, and they did everything possible to make me feel comfortable. It was a delight to see the row of traditional Himachali houses made of mud and wood. I barely felt cold inside the house, though it was cold outside. It is a typical village where mornings begin with men preparing for their daily chores—rearing cows and ploughing fields—while women cook roti (chapati) and aloo (potato) in the traditional oven. They display a great deal of hospitality and are as curious as many Indians; you will be welcomed into every home with sweet chai (tea). They live with limited resources; even a TV is a luxury for them. I was deeply moved by the innocence and love of those simple inhabitants, especially the lovely but shy girls. I think I have fallen in love with Himachal Pradesh—its mountains, apple trees, snow, and lovely inhabitants.

There were countless moments when the quiet, fierce kindness of the Himachalis wrapped around me like a warm blanket in the biting cold. One such moment came in late December in Dharamshala, when the sky unleashed a relentless snowfall. I was utterly unprepared. Power had vanished for over a week under the weight of the snow, and my electric stove was useless.I was left with no food, no heat, no hot water. Then came my neighbor, whose home I’d occasionally visit for evening chats over chai. Without a word of complaint, they began bringing me roti- subji and Rajma- chawl, enough to fill both my stomach and my heart. Every morning, they’d trudge through the snow with a bucket of hot water, just so I could have a warm shower. Their quiet generosity wasn’t announced—it was simply given, like the mountains give snow. In those frozen, silent nights, their kindness became my lifeline, a gentle reminder that even in the harshest winter, human warmth can melt the coldest fear. As Gandhiji said, “India lives in her villages.” Indian villages change very slowly; modernity is too shy to embrace them, and tradition and social norms still dictate the lives of villagers. And this is perhaps the real face of India among her many other faces

In the midst of Concrete jungle

I was thinking of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels while walking through the streets of Hong Kong. Among its giant skyscrapers, I felt like a tiny, insect-sized Lilliputian who had jumped into Gulliver’s pockets—or rather, like the minuscule being trapped among the giant humans of Brobdingnag, for whom Gulliver’s microscopic size was a source of curiosity. I had hardly ever seen such a huge flock of skyscrapers in my life; literally, those buildings seemed to aim for the sky to kiss her. Hong Kong is probably synonymous with a concrete jungle. One can see modernity in every nook and corner of the city; it well deserves the name “international city of Asia” in every respect. Infrastructure-wise, the city is on par with any developed nation; besides, it has a very effective public transport system. But like many Asian cities, Hong Kong too is trapped in today’s mall culture; sadly, mushrooming malls are seen as symbols of modernity, though they are merely webs of consumerism. So it has all the trappings of a modern city: mad sales in shops that drive people desperately to consume, fake or original brands, crowds flocking to shops in the mad rush of consumerism—indeed, it is a shopper’s paradise. Even Christmas is commercialized in a way that has painfully departed from its spiritual aspects. I was surprised to see a band of singers at the airport when I landed on 25 December. It seemed you could hardly escape the song “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells” wherever you went. Everything seems organized and orderly; even people walk on the streets in a certain manner, as if instructed to do so. I don’t know whether wealth and hospitality have any connection, but I found the people less friendly. They looked pretty reserved and stressed, as if prosperity had stolen away their smiles. But it was always nice to stroll through the city that had woken from the slumber of its colonial hangover. I roamed around different parts of the city, as it is well connected by metro and sky train. If you are a vegetarian, you have to control your taste buds to adapt to the meagre choices of food. But to my relief, I could find a few vegetarian restaurants, including Indian ones. The food I really enjoyed was a pasta from an organic restaurant called “Life.” The restaurant welcomes you with Gandhiji’s quote: “Be the change you want to see in the world.” The quiet walk through the forest in the interior part of the city was refreshingly inspiring—it was a jungle away from the concrete jungle. While journeying through the solitary, foggy path surrounded by trees, I regretted not being able to write like William Wordsworth. But I just repeated his verse to my heart’s delight: “To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.” Though I wanted to see a village in Hong Kong, the one I saw hardly resembled a village but looked like a little city. The renowned Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery was quite disappointing with its plastic Buddha statues. It looked like a Disneyland of Buddha, arranged for tourism; it lacked both aestheticism and spiritual depth. But the giant Buddha statue at Po Lin Monastery was magnificent with its huge presence. This 26.4 m high statue is the world’s largest seated outdoor bronze Buddha. The islands around Hong Kong were quite interesting with their tropical forests and tranquil settings. I particularly enjoyed Lamma Island with its clean beaches and lush green landscape. Though considered part of China, Hong Kong enjoys much freedom, but not without restrictions. An old Malayalam film song goes like this: “Hey Hong Kong streets, you have opened the doors of heaven for us.” But I just wonder: do the doors of heaven and the doors of prosperity look the same?