CHAPTER
THREE: MYSTICAL LAND OF CHAANDMATI
When I reached my home in Mumbai I was
rudely welcomed by a notice from our society about plants in the window. They
say, ‘water coming down from the plants have defaced the building and are
causing safety hazards to members and residents apart from becoming an example
to others to start as a dangerous trend’. I’m not making these things up. Those
were the exact words of the secretary of our esteemed society that hosts around
700 flats in around 3600 sq mt area including the open spaces. I want to
personally go and cut water supply of that person who thought plants deface
his/her pigeonhole of a society.
Thankfully I was where there was literally
no place for more trees!
I was hung over on my journey to Kathgodam. And when I
reached ther it was really hot and I was hungry. But as any hung over person I
chose not to eat anything except chai and cigarettes. To make it worse we
missed taxis sent for us by the organisers of Sonapani film festival, where we
were going. We were in the independent traveller mode by then, and didn’t even care
to check with the organisers about means of reaching Sonapani, hang over
definitely makes you stupid. After realising that we ventured out to find out
our own way to reach our destination. Let me tell you about my humrahi at this
point. She is an old and very dear friend. She was living in McLeod ganj before
meeting me in Delhi. We know each other very well, but we hadn’t travelled on
our own before this. Well, and your humsafar affects a lot how you travel. You
should be in sync to have a pleasurable travel, we were at least I thought so.
She was feeding me with fruits, namkeen, and other trash and healthy things
alternatively, with regular intervals of pure unadulterated water. Thanks to
her, I was in a full form in an hour. Don’t think that I was happy because of
her only because she was feeding me, she is just a cool person to be with.
Well, after a wait of almost two hours we
got the ‘kaali’. Kaali is the name and colour of the bus running on the route
from Haldwani to Mauna, Lweshal. When Ashish, the organiser of Sonapani film
festival, asked me that we need to board a bus for Mauna Lweshal, I heard it as
Monalisa. But the conductor of that bus burst my bubble; I was not going to
meet Monalisa. This kaali became a super cool character in our stay at in and
around Sonapani. Only two buses run on that route daily. But by some strange coincidence
we used to found our beloved kaali many times when we used to stroll around,
and mind you when we used to stroll only 5% of the road used to be a tarmac
road. So you know how divinely connected we felt with kaali.
Anyways, the hotness of the atmosphere
slowly faded away and we were soon on the topsy-turvy roads of lower Himalayas.
The frustration of missing the taxi, the hunger, the disappointment of hot
weather; faded out as the elevation increased. Soon we reached the gate of
Satkhol ashram, our alight point. We had an almost 2.5km of walk in front of
us. Thankfully Ashish had sent us two of his employee on motorcycles to pick us
up! So bam! We reached Sonapani within minutes. I couldn’t really see around
much in the way. Because, being a rider I get very uncomfortable sitting behind
anyone. Also, the roads were really up and down, partly off road and partly CCied
(I found about this term CC after a few days, or as shishi as the man who
guided me to Sonapani when I was not sure. I was craving for a sheeshi bottle.
By the way CC means cement concreted, thankfully the only CCied thing in that
part)
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| This was the place where we we got down for Sonapani. The beauty was going to get even more breathtaking. |
So, Sonapani. It’s a really cool place
filled with warm people. When we reached
there the screening was first film was already started, we hung around with a
couple that were staying in that part of the hills for few days. There was also
a big and lovely bhutiya dog called Jhumroo. One of the major I want to settle
in the hills, or anywhere outside city for that matter, is because I want to
have a happy dog! Dogs can’t be truly happy in urban space, but they are too
good to let you realise that. I want a big happy dog, and that is my life goal!
Jhumroo is a bloody good dog. Sonapani estate is situated on a slope of a
valley overlooking a range of Himalayas. The valley is covered in pines, and
dark cool shadows of them. There is a plane covered with trees on one side and
a valley on the other side, and there is an old white dilapidated mysterious
house on the other side of that valley.
On a second night the jungle was threatened
by a wildfire. We crossed that house on the way to quench that fire. When the
fire was reaching nearer to Sonapani, Ashish asked for volunteers to douse the
fire. Of course I was one of the first to raise the hand. I gulped my glass of
old monk in one go, and stood ready outside. After half an hour we left with
few torches, I had sneaked out another glass by then. It was pitch dark, and
dead silent except the cracking of fire with its orange luminous hovering over
in the distance. If not for the danger of the fire, this could have been a one
of the most romantic setting. We were
running in the direction of the fire. As the lungs started prioritising our
limbs over our mouths, the walk grew silent except for the rustle of grass and
our jackets and mufflers. Yes, it was a cold night ironically. After walking
for 20 or so minutes we reached a patch of land where sparks of fire were
seducing the dry grass underneath. We finally saw what we were looking for. The
fire was gone, but the dry grass was still burning in its memory. With the
small bushes we were carrying, we attacked the fire Romeo soldiers. They gave
in to our attacks. The battle had just started. We could see a big fire ahead.
With the help of two local boys in Ashish’s team we wade towards the fire,
often bending barbed wires of private properties to make our way. Bhai, we were
going to finish the love affair of the fire and the forest, these barbed wires
can’t stop us. But it was anti-climatic
in the end. When we reached there, other van rakshaks had already got the fire
under control. But we were carrying the anti-fire bushes in our hands, and
didn’t want to go back without any brave stories of fire fighting. So, we
doused even the innocent looking sparks of fire. We won. The walk back, was a
pain. Because it was an uphill task, literally. At one point Ashish asked
everyone to stop and turn off our torches. Man, that was a place. Yellow-white
stars were illuminating in the sky, and bright orange sparks were trying to
stay alive on the ground. It was truly a aaj main oopar kinda atmosphere. Maybe
I was with the stars, and the stars we just remnants of a wildfire. This smoky
kohl filled dark smell; maybe that’s how the hydrogen filled stars smell
like. We returned back and told others
stories of how saved the world, cooked on that hot wildfire. That night scraped
off all the rust that has accumulated on my recepetors, my journey had truly
started then. The rest of experience at Sonapani polished my receptors and made
them shiny and chrome. I was feeling like Nux. Witness me!
Every moment at Sonapani was so pure,
that’s the thing I loved about that place. No one had any hidden agenda, any
qualms; everyone was warm, open and happy.
The three organisers, Ashish, Deepaji and Gurpalji, with their awesome
staff, and Ashish and Deepa’s super talented kid Aru, were just giving us masterclass
in how to live.
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| This was the view from Sonapani |
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| and this |
We watched many cool films together, by Ram
Shetty, Ramchandra CN and Niharika. Many different things to learn from these
guys, the main thing was ‘if you want to make a film, just go ahead and make
it!’ I got to see their filmmaking mind at rest as well, and also their cool
dance moves! The other guests were equally inspiring. Me people who had left
their boring urban lives and have settled in the hills, like Gagan and Renu,
Arjun and Shalu, and many others. The dream Lee and me are watching for many
years. One day, one day. I was talking with Gagan and Arjun over drinks and
some other stuff and came to know that Gagan is brother of Gurvinder Singh, one
of the best directors of India. Abhivyakti and me screamed like teenage girls!
We even watched Chauthi Koot with him in coming days. I was making plans of my
travel after Sonapani, but even after the film festival got over I just didn’t
want to leave that place. The walks through the jungle, the sunrises and
sunsets, the occasional glimpse of Himalayan range, the food, the hosts; it was
all so hard to leave. Ashish and Deepaji let me stay there, Gurpalji said that
they are having a food festival next week and if I want I can shoot it. Finally
I got a valid reason to stay back. The food festival was completely a different
ball game. I always used to think that cooking just comes naturally, like you
can cook good food or you just can’t. But there I get to see and learn small
tips that make anything you are cooking mindblowing. Of course love for cooking
was the prime reason that makes the food yummy. But that love starts with
chosing the right and good quality ingredients. Chefs were giving everyone tips
on when and how to use those ingredients, sprinkled with many interesting
anecdotes of their culinary journey. I’m a better cook now, just by watching
them in action. Ragini was from Jammu, and she cooked some amazing Jammu and
Kashmiri dishes. I thought those dishes were very complicated, there were too
many processes going on simultaneously in the kitchen. But she used to start
explaining the method with ‘it’s very simple’, every time. That gave a non-cook
like me a confidence in trying my hand. My family and friends are going to be
my guinea pigs for few months in my kitchen lab now. Ragini is also a very
soulful singer. The other chef Megh is an actor, and rode from Mumbai to attend
this festival on his Royal Enfield classic chrome 500! What a guy. His thing
was he can cook mind-blowing food from anything at all. I’m pretty sure he can
cook dust and rust, and make a delicious dish out of it. The highlight of his
cooking was pit-cooking session. He dug up a pit, filled it with coal and
cooked three raans in it for three hours. It was a rainy day, but he fought
with the rain god to make those juicy, flavoursome raans. No one got to a
second serving, not because the quantity was less, but everyone stuffed their
plates to the brim the first time they served, it was that tempting. Keith was
the third chef. He is a dancer, a teacher, and works with some organisations
here doing amazing work in education. Me being from a science background loved
his cooking methods. Kitchen was turned in to a chemistry lab. He used to weigh
everything, measure temperature of everything, time everything, and loved
everything. I was shooting the process, but I couldn’t resist myself when the
dish was ready. I used to keep my camera aside and dig in. I don’t have even a
single shot of final dish, or someone tasting it! I was busy eating by that
time. Hats off to these outstanding chefs, and even great human beings.
Two weeks ended in a flash. It was my time
to go. Two of my friends, Balaji and Vivek, from Sonapani film festival had
gone to a place called Kasar Devi. Vivek messaged from there that ‘this is the
place!’ I woke up late on the day when I was supposed to leave. I had already
said goodbyes to Ashish, Deepaji, Gurpal, Gagan, Taran (funny thing here, I met
Taran at the food festival. After two days we realised that Taran’s husband
Asad, and my wife Lee are colleagus! Such is a magic of Sonapani), and Asad.
When I stepped out the sky was dark, and drizzling. It was a sad morning. I got
a lift till Satkhol ashram gate. A shopkeeper at the junction, who had become a
well acquaintance by now, told me that there is one bus coming after an hour or
so which will take me to Mauna, from there I’ll have to find a transport to
Kwarab, from Kwarab I will get another bus to Almora, and from Almora I will
have to find some local transport to Kasar Devi. A long journey ahead, and rain
had increased. We sat at that shop, sipping cups of chai. I had met a bunch of
locals at this shop few days ago. They were the farmers, and used to produce
peaches, plums and other fruits. They told me about the dire state of
agriculture, and the reasons why people are leaving their village and hunting
for jobs in cities. But that farmer was an optimist, and very content person.
He never complained, he just stated these things. His one advice is going to
stay with me forever- Jo ho raha hai use hone do, jo ho gaya use bhul jao. And
mind you this advice didn’t have a passive or frustrated tone. He had lived
with nature and that’s the way nature works.
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| I was leaving this behind |
My bus came, I looked around one last time
and boarded it. As soon as I set foot in the bus, the speakers of the bus
started blasting ‘badan pe sittare lapete hue!’ nad just after a first turn
clouds evaporated away. It was sunny. The journey was going to be fun. Jo ho
raha hai use hone do!
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