The
Shivaliks [LesserHimalayas] are a thickly forested area with clusters of villages, few and far between. The local inhabitants are fair skinned with acquiline nose , slim,. hardy and vaguely remind me of our neighbours, the Nepalese.They have built cottages at unbelievable elevations, overlooking
forests and terraced fields.
They are fiercely religious and are proud of their land that has been sanctified by sages down the ages . The chief among them being sage
Vyasa who lived in these mountains and
presented us with the great epic
Mahabharat.Nearly every family has a member, serving in the armed forces!
We were forced to camp at
Fauji dhaba ,run by a former soldier and his 5 sons , in a clearing
between 2 lush hills , 4
kms before
Devaprayag ,since the land slides creating blocks on the road leading to
Devaprayag were yet to be cleared fully . They were too narrow for big vehicles to negotiate.
A small group of co- travellers decided to stretch our legs, drink in the scent of nature and also pay our
obeisance to '
Mariyada purushotamSri Rama' at
Raghunath temple in the confluence ,at
Devaprayag.
The landslides were a dime a dozen! The roads often bisected by streams tearing down in great hurry.My leg sank in ankle depth of mud and slush whichI washed away in one of those streams and climbed on with constant roar of
Ganges at the back of my ears.
As I trudged on I saw several huge trucks carrying gas cylinders, provisions , cement , hardware
etc parked on road sides . The truckers were stranded there for a week and would proceed further on only when all roads were totally cleared of debris.A gigantic task.They had resigned themselves to a long wait.
One of the
Fauji's son rueful observation came to my mind .That the natural calamity had taken them all back to primitive days. The electric lines had snapped, the mobiles
did not work [ ours too
didn't] ,so letters were passed up and down, as there was no refilling of gas they were cooking over log fire. No TV to watch and no news paper to read ! A total snap with the outside world!
As we took a dip in ice cold raging waters of the
Sangam of rivers
Alakananda and
Bhagirathi , policemen in life jackets kept a stern watch as the waters had risen alarmingly over the weekend.After a steep climb to
the darshan of Rama at
Raghunath temple , I simply
didn't have the
strength to walk back the distance .
A
youthful twosome in a small jeep --I suppose the local mode of transport, like our auto's
agreed to take us back to our transit camp---
Fauji dhaba.
They tore down the slippery roads in maddening speed ,expertly, negotiating each dangerous curve [ only half cleared]in the same speed !Our
entreaties to slow down fell on deaf ears as
Hindi film songs were
streaming out from the jeeps
Cd's in full volume.
The
giddying heights, the thick forests, the eerie darkness that had quietly draped over, the slippery roads and narrow carriageways , the bouncing over stones strewn over fast flowing rivulets rushing on the roads, was all terribly alien to my life at plains and at the metropolis.But the
Hindi film songs were familiar and it brought in some
semblance of normality. It was comforting.
The high voltage mountain motor racing came to an end in a trice as they dropped us at our
camp and readied for the next '
savari'!
.
As dinner time drew near we were served with hot
parathas dripping with ghee, potato's roasted tantalisingly
red and tasty
chole in thick gravy!Satiated by this mouth watering
meal we sat on the
deserted road whiling away our time in small talks , under dark skies , a pale moon and some insects trilling nearby. One of the owner,s son joined our circle and regaled us with with several local
stories .The most gripping one being that of a man eating leopard!It had killed and eaten a boy last year and had attacked several persons in their homes, in a nearby village.The panicky villagers had raised a lot of ruckus and the forest officers were forced to trap it.
This educated young man[BA and plies his own jeep to
Haridwar ], Shiva of the hills helped them to track it,. He
pointed to a black and fluffy dog called
Rooni,lying nearby ,saying it was used as a
live bait to lure the leopard.
Rooni had evaded the jaws of death by a mere whisker! It escaped only with a snip by the big cat, at its leg that has given it a
permanent limp, since the
FO shot
and tranquilised it before the
maneater could kill it.
Shiva proudly
displayed that leopards claw , he was allowed
to take as a reward for helping to track the animal after that big cat's post mortem by the officials .The leopard had died in the trapping process.Some old
timers in our group, of pilgrims ,commented that he had spun a good yarn.
Ididnot doubt the veracity of his narrative. Unmindful of their digs he continued his narration in all earnest
and .
he addressed me and said ''
Auntiji the leopards are in plenty, here. They often clamber over our roof and stare down at us in broad daylight
and at several times, at night fight with my dogs''!
As it grew late , all men made their makeshift beds in the bus
itself and we women were shown, with palms folded in supplication ,by a plump son of the Fauji ,in bermuda's,into a inner dank and dreary room in the
dhabaa, with
a line of hard beds to spend the
night.The generator the only source of electricity was shut at 10 pm sharp .And all lights went off. It
became pitch
dark. Just then we heard a loud and
piercing howl . It was that black dog
Rooni He was probably reliving his close
shave with the
maneater.Its fear was infectious . The cold clammy
hands of fear gripped, some. A little boy amidst us shrieked. The seniors who had cackled earlier were the first to switch on their torches and to double check the fastening of the flimsy latch.Was a leopard on the prowl?
to be contd...
