I love not man less, but nature more – Lord Byron
Delhi – Shimla – Reckong Peo – Kalpa:
With a belly full of beer n a head full of buzz; we get onboard the bus for Shimla. Having reached Shimla just in time next morning to hitch a ride with the newspaper van (a Tata Sumo), we start our journey eastwards.
Last year during my visit to Kinnaur, I remember being absolutely overwhelmed with the beauty on the stretch from Shimla to Sarahan. But the winds of change have their own way, and this time around, the terrain, despite being the same doesn’t click. For the apples and apricots have not blossomed yet, and the rains are yet to lend a tinge of lush green to these colossal mountains.
On the way to Reckong Peo
Nine hours, three flat tyres and two highway meals later, we finally reach Reckong Peo, the district headquarter of Kinnaur. Meaning the last town with ATM’s in all of Kinnaur as well as Spiti. Having tread this path earlier on, it is an understood that the next destination is Kalpa. So without further thought, we head towards the beautiful village of Kalpa, and retire into a cozy little room at Chini Guest House, with a window that overlooks the Kinner Kailash and a moon that keeps close watch.
Chini Bungalow
Kalpa – Nako:
We wake up to a dazzling sunrise that’s glimmering on the snow covered Kinner Kailash; and get ready to head back to Peo to catch a ride to our next destination. A quick trip to the ATM and a cup of honey tea later, we find ourselves walking downhill towards the Peo bus stand through a shortcut that quietly boasts of dense marijuana plantations.
Kinner Kailash
Our next stop is Nako, a small village situated near the eastern border of Kinnaur, with Tibet on the other side of the state line. The four hour ride from Kalpa to Nako is spectacular in more ways than one. As the bus fearlessly pierces through these dangerous terrains, we get a glimpse of the mighty Reo Purgil, the highest peak of Himachal Pradesh taking a peek at the confluence of the rivers Satluj and Spiti, as if it were a spy.
The sleepy village of Nako offers a stunning view of the Hangrang valley and has an ancient monastery, which is one of the 108 monasteries that were built in one night by Rinchen Zangpo. The temple attracts hundreds of inhabitants from several villages on festivals and other sanctified days of worship. The second attraction here is the Nako Lake, a small and serene holy lake, hemmed by willows and poplar trees. The best time to visit the lake is in the morning when the calm waters mirror sharp reflections of clear blue skies and the surrounding magnificent mountains.
Nako Village
Nako Village
Exhausted after a long day of moving around the village, we pass out like babies by 8 pm and our eyes do not open until 8 the next morning. 
****
Nako – Kaza:
We manage to hitch a ride to Kaza from the Nako helipad the following morning. Even though the distance between the two is a mere 120 kilometers, it takes us five good hours to get there, with a half hour break at Tabo in between.
Now let me spare a few lines about this mysterious village called Tabo. It is a quiet little village that came into being centuries ago, solely because of the monastery built here. They say that the Tabo monastery was built in one night and is about a thousand years old – one of the oldest in the world. Stepping inside the monastery feels like stepping into a parallel ancient world that’s peacefully going about its day-to-day life with little concern about the outside world. The only sources of natural light here are two small skylight openings on the roof, that are covered with green colored glass, clear enough to filter out some sunlight during the day. The feeble wooden floor, the intricately painted walls with depictions from the life of the Buddha, the mild fragrance of incense sticks in the air, and that strange all-pervasive feeling of purity leaves me humbled.
Tabo Monastery
I walk around trying to figure this village out as much as I can in the short span of time I’m allowed. As it turns out, this place is very well equipped for the foreign traveler’s needs. Israeli cafes, English cafes, even a Rastafarian café called the Zion Café 
, internet connectivity, telephone connectivity, a wine shop, a neat little market near the monastery, are all comforts surprising to find in a remote place like this. The inhabitants of this place seem as laid back as the village itself. Laidback, yet friendly; unconcerned, yet hospitable.
Om Mani Padme Hum
We hit the road that leads to Kaza once again, now with more enthusiasm than we did in the morning, for it’s going to be only an hour’s journey from hereon, and the barren terrain is soon going to be replaced by some eccentrically textured rocks and cliffs.
On reaching Kaza, we learn about the upcoming Kaal Chakra festival, in which the Dalai Lama will be holding a sermon for two days out of the total three days of the festival. And as we all know, all good things come at a price. The price in this case is an overpopulated Kaza with zero availability of rooms. How I wish I had a tent at a time like this!
****
Pin Valley
The only way to cope with the situation is to shift base. So we take a ride to Pin Valley.
Being the only area here that receives rainfall, this is the sole green part of the Spiti region. The valley comprises about ten villages, Mudh being the last one. We finally terminate our journey here for the day and get ourselves a room in Tara Guest House, the central spot and the most frequented café of the village. There is commotion in the village from the moment our bus pulls over.
Mudh Village - Pin Valley
About Mudh; if looked at with the right eye, you will not come across a village emanating a more happy vibe than this one. Constant twittering and giggles of children and women fills the air. Random villagers strike conversations with you. If you catch someone staring at you, it is not for anything other reason but mere innocent curiosity. The verve infectiously passes on to all. And the energy simply prevails.
We spend the next couple of days hiking to nearby villages, chilling with travelers and villagers and not to forget, drinking aarak, the most commonly consumed and the only form of liquor produced in the households of Spiti Valley. The temperature here is about 5-6 degrees, and the nights demand at least two layers of clothing even in the month of July.
It breaks my heart to imagine the lives of these people during the winters, when even the nearest village is inaccessible due to excessive snow, while they nap during the days with the slightest comfort that the sun has to offer, and spend sleepless nights fighting the cold in front of the fire.
****
Back to Kaza – Kaal Chakra Festival, Dalai Lama’s Sermon, Langza village
Back in Kaza, the energy and crowd has only shot up from the last time I left it. We’re dropped one kilometer away from the main town and have to make our way back on foot due to security reasons. The whole town is decked up. People of all ages from all over Himachal have shown up in their best traditional attires. The town is painted with all colors of the rainbow today, and everyone is civilly waiting in line with incense sticks and several other offerings for the Lamaji. The line stretches for over a kilometer. The chopper finally lands, and minutes later, a fleet of Tata Safari’s and Sumo’s passes us by, barely giving all a glimpse of His Holiness. At this point, the crowd slowly begins to disperse and returns to the revelries of the festival.
Spitian women in traditional costumes
The room condition being the same as it was three days ago, we decide to spend the night at a nearby village Langza, which is forty five minutes away (by car) from Kaza.
This far-flung village is like no other I’ve seen before. Located at 4,400 meters above sea level, the village stands at the foothill of the dreamlike massif of Chau Chau Khang Nilda, towering as a backdrop. The Chau Chau peak is by far the most dramatic peaks I have ever seen. There are twenty one houses in all (yes, I counted), and even though it feels as if life has not evolved here for hundreds of years, everything is moving in perfect harmony.
The highlight of the village is the striking statue of the Buddha that presides over the village. This spectacular statue is big enough to be visible from every nook of the village. A few meters away from the statue stands the Lang Temple, which is regarded to be the headquarters of all the deities of the valley and houses some old frescos and thangkas (paintings on silken canvas).
We walk through a muddy trail towards the main village and find shelter at a home stay guest house. The traditional Spitian house, with its cozy kitchen, and cozier low roofed bed rooms is a comfortable and peaceful abode. The owner of the house is over 70 years of age, and likes to be called Eebie (grandma). On arrival we sit in the kitchen and have a cup of butter tea and share bidi’s with eebie and her friends, who continue to chat amongst themselves continually.
Eebie and friends
Spitian bedrooms. My room.
Sunset is one of its own kinds at a height such as this, flooding the sky with endless colors and visions. The farm trails here are rich in flora and it is easy to spot the Blue Sheep in the vicinity.
The next morning we are back in Kaza, only to find ourselves stuck in the middle of a very eager mob that’s awaiting the opening of the gates of the monastery. The sermon begins with chanting and praying by the Dalai Lama, and each person listens intently to His speech with the hope of absorbing as much wisdom as they can. The congregation lasts though the duration of the day, and we gradually retire to the town to find some lunch.
The 14th Dalai Lama
After having spent several idle hours in the main market area eating, drinking, chit chatting with equally idle travelers, we surprisingly manage to find an empty room right across the German bakery. The room of course, is overpriced – certainly not worth the money we pay for it. But as they say, beggars can’t be choosers, so be it.
Kaza – Manali – Vashisht – Delhi
About 50 of us hop on to a bus meant for 40 the next morning. The ones who don’t find room move to the roof, and we begin a rather long journey to Manali, one that seems to last forever. After making a brief stop at the splendid Kunzum La (Pass), we tread through the dangerous terrains of Chandra Valley, which is home to many wild animals and does not support human inhabitance in so much as a single patch of land through the length of the entire valley.
One for all, all for one.
KunZum La (Pass)
Quick halt at KunZum La
Chandra Valley
Approaching Manali
The panorama becomes greener as we get closer to Rohtang La. However, on reaching the pass, I am left feeling utterly disappointed to see the aggressive commercialization of this place, where hundreds of tourists move around on wretched little ponies and donkeys, just because their idea of ‘fun’ translates into a pony ride. Hundreds of shops, guides, food stalls – the entire scene looks warped. It doesn’t fit in with the landscape, but it still exists. I try to the best of my ability to ignore the horrible nightmare outside of my bus window, only to find our bus stalled for the next one hour in the same vicinity due to traffic! When any peaceful trip begins to come to an end, everything approaching you smells of the city. I can smell the city already!
Rohtang Pass
I finally reach Manali, which turns out to be only an extension of the living nightmare I had been experiencing for the previous few hours. A million people! Tourists who are convinced that they’re travelers, beggars waiting to get lucky, dancers putting up a show in the market area, a hundred travel agents, a thousand restaurants, and a million hotels! I’d perhaps appreciate this hill station for what it is if I were to solely be here on a weekend getaway trip. But the raw beauty that I have experienced over the past few weeks only leaves me feeling utterly cynical and bigheaded for now. All I want to do is to get away as far as I can from this façade of a ‘hill station’.
And that is how Vashisht comes into the picture. Located at a distance of 3 – 5 kilometers from Manali, this is a small little village that boasts of hot water springs and a few ancient Hindu temples. The town is equally commercialized as Manali, with all facilities one can ask for. However, its only saving grace is the peace and tranquility it offers. With travelers from Israel comprising the majority of tourists here, the streets are filled with a husky murmur of Hebrew and a strong whiff of hashish. It is heartening to finally find some good food after so many days of surviving on momos and thukpa back in Spiti Valley. Freedom Café, Hari Om Café are a few recommended places to eat here.
Several conversations with fellow travelers, a heavy meal, a meeting with a giant rabbit and finally a quiet walk down the village later, I find myself reliving the previous day’s horror show yet again, only with a little more forbearance this time around. We walk around the Tibetan market and make some incredibly low-priced purchases of woolen clothing, feeling victorious about the bargain we’ve got ourselves. Time passes more quickly in the city with materialistic distractions thrown in our faces invariably. As expected, before we know it, the time to board the bus back to Delhi arrives and we’re packed into an automobile that artificially makes the air just as cool as Kunzum La. I finally recline into a cozy chair, and begin to dream about the purple mountains again.
