It was the month of October, 1997. We were exploring the Har-ki-Dun valley at the far corner of the hill state of Uttarakhand in India. The day was cold, with a brief snow-fall. We trekked some 14 kilometres, through the beautiful meadows and crossed dancing streams, to reach the splendid Har-ki-Dun valley by late afternoon. We took shelter in the dormitory of the tourism department rest-house that is the only man-made structure in the valley.
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| The meadows of Har-ki-dun |
The rest-house was attended by a lonely Chowkidar (caretaker cum guard). There was no electricity connection. It was lit by a couple of kerosene lamps that emitted more fume than light. As the evening descended, mountain chill of approaching winter set in the air. We braved the cold to step out in the open. It was a moonless night. The sky was lit up with a million stars, which seemed to have descended within our arms reach. We could see the dim outline of the Swargarohini (ascent to the heaven) peak in the starlight. The whole place seemed mystic and divine.
Later in the evening, we were served bowls of piping hot Khichri
(a porridge of rice and lentil) with some fried vegetables,
which we relished after the hard day’s trek. After the meal, we retired into the dormitory. The Chowkidar finished his chores, and soon after vanished somewhere, presumably in his own quarters, for the night.
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| The tourist guest-house at Har-ki-Dun |
We were five of us in the dormitory. I, with my wife and our teenage child, and two other gentlemen, whom we befriended on the way. The kerosene lamp was turned off, and soon we took refuge under thick blankets to fight the freezing cold, and embraced sleep as the stars kept their vigilant eyes on the snow-clad mountain-peaks and on us, through the window-panes.
I do not know, how long I slept. I suddenly woke up to the melody of sitar (stringed musical instrument), playing somewhere nearby. Even my untrained ears could tell that it was being played by some expert.
I do not know, how long I slept. I suddenly woke up to the melody of sitar (stringed musical instrument), playing somewhere nearby. Even my untrained ears could tell that it was being played by some expert.
I was sure that there was no human habitation within ten kilometres of this guest-house. Then, who was playing the sitar in the middle of nowhere and that too in the midnight?
Around me, my companies were fast asleep. They didn’t seem to have heard anything. I resisted the urge to awaken them. I wanted to explore on my own. But, the biting cold prevented me to come out of the blanket. I lied down on my back silently and listened to the music with some unease at the back of my mind. I remembered stories of ghosts who indulge in music. I kept awake and kept on listening to the music and … indeed, I started enjoying it. Or, was I getting intoxicated?
I do not know, how long the music continued and I kept awake. After, what it appeared to be an eternity, the music slowed down and finally stopped. An eerie silence prevailed ...
Around me, my companies were fast asleep. They didn’t seem to have heard anything. I resisted the urge to awaken them. I wanted to explore on my own. But, the biting cold prevented me to come out of the blanket. I lied down on my back silently and listened to the music with some unease at the back of my mind. I remembered stories of ghosts who indulge in music. I kept awake and kept on listening to the music and … indeed, I started enjoying it. Or, was I getting intoxicated?
I do not know, how long the music continued and I kept awake. After, what it appeared to be an eternity, the music slowed down and finally stopped. An eerie silence prevailed ...
...
...
And then came the announcement … that appeared to be from an alien space, far far away from this world of star-lit sky, the green meadows, the dancing rivulets and the mighty mountains …
And then came the announcement … that appeared to be from an alien space, far far away from this world of star-lit sky, the green meadows, the dancing rivulets and the mighty mountains …
“This is Akaashvani (All India Radio) … You have been listening to a Sitar recital by ….”.
Well, that had been a great maestro’s work, indeed. It must have been the Chowkidar, who had been listening to his radio set to fight his isolation of the remote place.
I had a hearty laugh at myself and went back to peaceful sleep. Next morning, when we woke up, it was broad daylight, the thought of ghosts have vanished and the majestic Swargarohini peak glistened in the morning rays of the sun. When I narrated the story to my companions, they too had a good laugh and admitted that they missed out on an experience.
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| Swargarohini Peak |
Did you proceed further to Swargdwar glacier? It is believed that Yudhisthir entered heaven crossing that glacier. Hence that name. Also did you visit the temple of Duryodhan? Your write up rekindled my memory of trekking through that valley in late eighties.
ReplyDeleteThanks Manas. We couldn't make it to the Swargarohini glacier, as our time and money ran out. We had to stop over at Seema village for two days because of torrential rains. But yes, we visited the temple of Duryodhan -- maybe, I shall write a story about it.
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