a story night a traveller reaches a dharamshala
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Yesterday, I was listening to Eddie Vedder crooning ‘Long Nights’ from the movie ‘Into the Wild’. The song and the movie invoked strong feelings; almost a nostalgic reminiscence of the few journeys I have undertaken in my thus far short life. The memories came rushing back; some of rolling on the floor in fits of laughter, others of the near grievous accidents that were avoided by the skin of my teeth. In almost all the trips I took, I made it a point to meet some of the local people and listen to the stories they had to tell of the place. The local legends, told on a cold winter’s night, would sometimes leave me amused and at others, just plain scared.
I vividly remember the day my mildly atheist views took a tumble and I tried to offer God outrageous bribes. Before you jump to conclusions, it is not an accident story. I was camping in Dharamshala. It was the month of November. Dharamshala, at that time of the year, is even more serene and beautiful than during the normal tourist season. The pine trees, the greenery, and the majestic mountains gave an ethereal feeling while you sit outside your tiny cozy cottage sipping a hot cup of tea.
That day, I had gone on a trekking expedition along the mountains that surround Dharamshala. I had heard a lot about the excellent trekking trails of Dharamshala but nothing compares to the actual thrill of being there and doing it in person. So, I started early in the morning and by the end of the day I had trekked my way to Kunal Pathri, a rock temple devoted to a local goddess. Just the day before, I had spent a lot on shopping in McLeodganj and thought it was about time I took activities that cost less and give a lot more pleasure.
In the evening, one of my friends and I decided to walk back to our cottage. The evening was cold and we were shivering under our heavy jackets and shawls. The asphalt road was broken in places and the potholes were hard to see in the dim light of our torches. We struggled through and were quite enjoying the walk when we spotted a few old guys sitting under a large shed on the side of the road. They were playing cards and were puffing away on their hukkah. We did not pay much attention although the hukkah did remind me of my pack of cigarettes. Out came my cigarette pack and the matchbox with the lone matchstick (just like in the movies). It was at this moment that an icy chilling wind rushed through the road and blew out the burning matchstick. Cursing our luck, we went to the old men in the shed and politely asked for a matchstick. The old men did not even turn their heads. They did not acknowledge our greetings but one of the old men did give us a matchbox.
Photo Credit: Geoff Stearns/flickr
We lit our cigarettes and bid adieu to the old men. Again, there was no verbal response. We walked on and were approximately a couple of kilometers away from our cottage. We were discussing our fantastic trekking experience and the enchanting beauty of Dharamshala. Round the bend, we saw an old woman climbing up the road. She approached us and asked for a matchbox as she wanted to light her bidi. We smiled and told her that we didn’t have a match box but if she walked for a kilometer further up the road, she could get one from the old gentlemen playing cards in the shed. The old woman looked at us with strange eyes and said, “What shed, what old men? There has not been a soul living there for a decade now. You guys must have been hallucinating.” Then she went on a ranting spree berating us city folks for being drunk or doped all the time. Protesting our innocence, we started walking to our cottage at a brisk pace. We had heard of the ghost stories and were left a little uneasy by the old woman’s haranguing. We looked back and saw the old woman staring at us with beaded eyes and shaking her head. It was at this time that I genuinely felt a little scared and started praying. We reached our cottage and immediately went up to our rooms. I had a disturbed night of sleep. In the morning, I told one of the caretakers at the cottage about what had happened the previous day. The caretaker laughed a little and said, “so the old woman tricked you too? She has been doing this for years.”
I vividly remember the day my mildly atheist views took a tumble and I tried to offer God outrageous bribes. Before you jump to conclusions, it is not an accident story. I was camping in Dharamshala. It was the month of November. Dharamshala, at that time of the year, is even more serene and beautiful than during the normal tourist season. The pine trees, the greenery, and the majestic mountains gave an ethereal feeling while you sit outside your tiny cozy cottage sipping a hot cup of tea.
That day, I had gone on a trekking expedition along the mountains that surround Dharamshala. I had heard a lot about the excellent trekking trails of Dharamshala but nothing compares to the actual thrill of being there and doing it in person. So, I started early in the morning and by the end of the day I had trekked my way to Kunal Pathri, a rock temple devoted to a local goddess. Just the day before, I had spent a lot on shopping in McLeodganj and thought it was about time I took activities that cost less and give a lot more pleasure.
In the evening, one of my friends and I decided to walk back to our cottage. The evening was cold and we were shivering under our heavy jackets and shawls. The asphalt road was broken in places and the potholes were hard to see in the dim light of our torches. We struggled through and were quite enjoying the walk when we spotted a few old guys sitting under a large shed on the side of the road. They were playing cards and were puffing away on their hukkah. We did not pay much attention although the hukkah did remind me of my pack of cigarettes. Out came my cigarette pack and the matchbox with the lone matchstick (just like in the movies). It was at this moment that an icy chilling wind rushed through the road and blew out the burning matchstick. Cursing our luck, we went to the old men in the shed and politely asked for a matchstick. The old men did not even turn their heads. They did not acknowledge our greetings but one of the old men did give us a matchbox.
Photo Credit: Geoff Stearns/flickr
We lit our cigarettes and bid adieu to the old men. Again, there was no verbal response. We walked on and were approximately a couple of kilometers away from our cottage. We were discussing our fantastic trekking experience and the enchanting beauty of Dharamshala. Round the bend, we saw an old woman climbing up the road. She approached us and asked for a matchbox as she wanted to light her bidi. We smiled and told her that we didn’t have a match box but if she walked for a kilometer further up the road, she could get one from the old gentlemen playing cards in the shed. The old woman looked at us with strange eyes and said, “What shed, what old men? There has not been a soul living there for a decade now. You guys must have been hallucinating.” Then she went on a ranting spree berating us city folks for being drunk or doped all the time. Protesting our innocence, we started walking to our cottage at a brisk pace. We had heard of the ghost stories and were left a little uneasy by the old woman’s haranguing. We looked back and saw the old woman staring at us with beaded eyes and shaking her head. It was at this time that I genuinely felt a little scared and started praying. We reached our cottage and immediately went up to our rooms. I had a disturbed night of sleep. In the morning, I told one of the caretakers at the cottage about what had happened the previous day. The caretaker laughed a little and said, “so the old woman tricked you too? She has been doing this for years.”
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