In Our Filth

 When the soul, through its own fault... becomes rooted in a pool of pitch-black, evil smelling water, it produces nothing but misery and filth.  Saint Teresa of Avila

Compressed plastic and a bottle around a foraging Water Rail

In the wilds I was breathing fresh air... Or so I thought, till I saw the carelessly flung bottle. Going a bit further I saw the side of the path littered with bottles, wrappers and the detritus of modern, civilised living. The Great Indian Tourist had struck again. The remotest areas are littered, boards in any language do not deter those determined to create filth. I was in the Valley of Flowers, that pristine, clear mountain air, till I saw a jarring sign of the “great Indian tourist". The forest department had diverted  a mountain stream so that trekkers could fill water bottles, right next to this someone had left a big, bright blue bar of washing soap, slowly dissolving into the pristine stream. A little further on I saw the shine of silver foil discarded after someone’s breakfast, lying among the flowers. I also met the guide/owner of a very large agency specialising in VoF; he boasted of his 400 GB of photos and his undying love of the Valley, all the while playing loud music on a bluetooth speaker!  We are somehow hell-bent on destroying our environmental heritage.

 Dirty water flows past a Red-wattled Lapwing 

On my many walks in the mountains, the pristine beauty has been marred by litter.  The base to the Valley of Flowers and Hemkund hike is Ghangriya, where through years of unregulated dumping by tourists and pilgrims have resulted in mountains of refuse behind every homestay and hotel. This is particularly unfair to local fauna which have become used to looking in these mounds of rubbish for an easy meal and are fast losing the ability to forage. 

A pile of rags provides a Pond Heron a perch 

Once outside the bird sanctuary at Karnala,  at the monkey feeding point, I saw a well-heeled young couple and their kid in a car feeding the monkeys. At this place the highway is particularly lethal as monkeys expect a tidbit from each passing vehicle. So I requested the couple to not feed the monkeys as it was causing them to develop a deadly habit.  The guy in the car tells me, and he appeared to be educated, that how could it become a habit when he fed the monkeys only once a year.

A Black Kite sitting on a manhole by a dirty Nala as it waits patiently for a tit-bit

There is a nala near my house, and the water is filthy with chemicals purged by nearby industry, while the banks of the nala are a dumping place for garbage. Birds, insects and butterflies have no choice but to adapt to this dirt around them, they continue feeding on prey that is washed down the dirty water. I have seen Heron, Kingfishers, water birds and kites regularly here.

Slabs of compressed plastic are the resting place for these Lesser Whistling Ducks

On a hike in the Great Himalayan National Park, the guide was proud that his Valley was not producing hydro-electric power, but he was charging his phone and lighting his house as someone else was generating electricity. Everywhere I would go birds and animals would be struggling to live despite the pollution.

A black plastic bag and bits of plastic around a Purple Swamphen 

Our need for indestructible gratification has grown so rapidly and is so insatiable that we are on a path of self destruction. Very soon we will have no place to dump our garbage and civic services will simply give up. 

Seen it all, a Pond Heron yawns at the filthy nala

it is only a matter of time before we drown in our own filth, as it is another's problem, dump it as long it is not in my backyard.  So everyone is dumping in someone else's backyard. "Modern" living has generated so much filth that will not decay for centuries. As Vladimir Nabokov said "We who burrow in filth every day may be forgiven perhaps the one sin that ends all sins."

The Blue Poppy In The Valley of Flowers

 

The Valley of Flowers never ceases to take my breathe away and did so again, in more ways than one. I am puffing and panting my way up to the Valley in Uttarakhand, a part of the high altitude Nanda Devi Biosphere.  The route is not steep nor long but it is at an average altitude of 3340 metres, and it is prudent to be cautious.   It was June 2018 and I was on a trip to the Valley of Flowers (VoF). 

I had heard about the Himalayan Poppy (or Blue Poppy) that grows in this region, on an earlier trip.  (See links to earlier blogs at the end of this one). Though it was early in the season and the chances of seeing one seemed remote, I it would be nice if I could photograph one.  The ‘best’ time is in August when I went on my previous trip, but the crowds are daunting at that time, so this time I went in mid-June and found VoF almost to myself. However as I enjoy hiking and photographing nature, sightings didn't bother me too much.

The route up is picturesque, crossing the Pushpawati River, I stopped to take many photographs because the light was right, my enthusiasm being more ardent than my skill. Along the way I came across many Pika, as long as I didn't make a sudden movement, they were bold and came sniffing right up to me. The peaks on either side are covered in snow and small glaciers come down into the valley, feeding a series of tiny streams.  The Valley itself is astride the Pushpawati River with the snow covered mountain Rataban at the other end.  

While walking up, I came across a forest guard and we got chatting and I told him that I was looking for the Blue Poppy.  Nonchalantly he told me that there was a bunch alongside the path a little further on and they were in full bloom.  I was surprised, a full bunch of them, and this early in the season?  I thought he was mistaken, but as he and I walked on, true to his word there they were.

Blue Poppies, up close, in bright light, it was a photographers dream. There were two bushes with three flowers and a few buds each by the track.  It took me a while to still my excitement and take photos to my complete satisfaction. So close to the path yet I would have missed them had the forest guard not told me. perhaps I had mentally decided that there were none to be seen.  

A simple but elegant plant, the diaphanous petals of the flower are breathtakingly pretty.  The spiny stem and leaves are a sharp counterpoint to the gentle blue petals and yellow stamens of each flower.

I simply could not satiate myself of these lovely Blue Poppies, and I took many pictures to etch the memory in my minds eye.  Regrettably  it was now time to return, I had to be out of the park by sunset. The water in the Pushawati river had risen as the snow on the mountains had melted during the sunny day, I could not help but stop for a few more photos before hurrying on my way. 

After a last look at the Valley (many last looks), I hurry down towards the entrance. At the gate I meet my friend the forest guard and he asks me "so, did you see any flowers?" I think the dreamy smile on my face tells him all.

I like Jim Carrey’s thought that ‘Flowers don't worry about how they're going to bloom. They just open up and turn toward the light and that makes them beautiful.’

I have done three blogs earlier on this entire trip, should you wish, the links are here:

Tungnath and Chandrashila - Communion with the Gods

Hemkund Sahib Revisited

Who Says There are No Flowers in the Valley of Flowers?

Naina Peak and Brahmasthali -The Top of Kumaon

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” ― Rabindranath Tagore
The sun sets below the rain washed hills where I was staying, and though not very high, the views are spectacular.  I could clearly see the haze at the level of the plains and the clear air here.

When I went  to Pangoot in April 2019 , the experience was a kaleidoscope of birds,  animals, forests, rain (downpours most of the time), years of history and walking, lots of walking.  Walking in these forests is a true communion with nature.  This is Kumaon with the Himalayas on one side and Corbett tiger reserve on the other. Little did I realise that two years later all I would have are lovely memories and pictures.

Chandan Singh ka dhaba has the most delectable meat-chawal (rice).
I took two trains from Mumbai to Lalkuan, and from there a taxi to Pangoot. On the two hour drive I had a very chatty taxi driver, and when I told him that I wanted to eat local food, he got me here, short of Nainital. Chandan Singh only serves meat-chawal which is cooked overnight on a wood fire and sold out by 2 or 3 pm.

Blood red Rhododendron flowers were in bloom everywhere
Rhododendron trees were scarlet with blooms, on every walk I and every way I turned, there were Rhododendrons.  The flower is fat and juicy, it looks beautiful when it is fresh and blooming, but quickly droops and decays on the ground. The juice of the flower is bottled and sold, being the specific for various ailments.

Atop Naina Peak
It rained almost everyday, most times I was climbing in the rain, but as I was equipped for this, I carried spare inner clothing and socks in my rucksack.  When climbing none of the  breathable clothes I own kept me dry, sweat from the inside and rainwater from the outside drenched me completely. In Indian conditions, maybe it is better to take something that dries fast rather than keeps one dry, or is breathable. A poncho kept me dry for a longer while, but in a strong breeze it can flap a bit.

The second Highest peak.
Naina Peak overlooks Nainital, it is very touristy spot, but owing to the rain, there were  no tourists at the top.  Here there is a forest department radio repeater station manned by two forest guards.  One of them took pity on this wet walker and fed me the ubiquitous Maggi noodles and gave me sugar rich tea.  Just what the doctor ordered to get my energy levels up. 

Blue-winged Siva
Though I was there more for the forest walking, Pangoot and Sattal are a birders paradise. Every bird tour company, or birder makes it here at some time.  Though it was warm and so they said at many places bird sightings were limited, there were other places where there were birds in every tree and bush. Walking in these nearly pristine forests is so refreshing, I was doing 16-17 kms a day.

Verditer Flycatcher has a bath
Sattal has myriad lakes (Sat-tal  means seven lakes), connected by water-channels.  At one little stream, the forest department has put up the 'studio'.  This consists of a shallow flowing stream, with some twigs put up for the birds to perch on so that birders and photographers can sit close to the action. At sunrise and sunset there is a parade of birds at this place as they come to drink water and bathe.

A Langur wonders what to do next....
  Though a birders haven, there are many other species too. Apart from the birds, I saw a rare sighting of the Serow, troops of langurs feeding, a chorus of cicadas switching their rattle on and off to the directions of an ethereal conductor. The forests have something for everyone.

Blue-throated Flycatcher
The trip to Sattal is very interesting, first there is Peter Smetacek, many call him the butterfly man, he has arguably one of the largest butterfly and moth collections in the country. The talk he gives is very interesting, explaining various snippets of fascinating butterfly and moth lives. His butterfly collection is on display, but he says that he has a larger moth collection which he keeps in envelopes as moth colours are not stable in sunlight.

A rain spattered yellow lemon
There are other lovely walks in Sattal along a river as there are many birds along the water, I saw a group of birders painstakingly photograph a Spotted Forktail. Along the river-bank I saw the wizard-looking Koel, Great Barbet and of course the ubiquitous Bulbul.  though it rained for a while when I was there, at the heaviest downpour I just took shelter in a milk chilling plant.  There are many houses along the river bed and most have huge lemons like this one.

Atop Brahmasthali, one of the highest points near Pangoot
One early morning I was driven to Cheer Point,  this is where one sees the Cheer Pheasant if one is lucky, I wasn't.  This is on a short route to Corbett Park from Nainital which passes the start for the Brahmasthali hike at the top of which one is rewarded with a darshan of a Brahma Temple. The views are beautiful from here, on one side I saw the foothills with the famous national park, on the other side were the Himalayan ranges.

Red-billed Leiothrix
This trip is of course a birders paradise, but the other fauna is also wonderful.  The jungles are a delight to walk in, I was soaking in the solitude, nature and history. Though there are many tourists in the area, luckily one does not see too many off the beaten track. I like the saying that if you think life is giving you lemons, enjoy the lemonade.

Connecting without a Connection

 

Spiti Valley is in the Himalayas of North India, it is popular these days as a crowded traverse by car or motorbike, an insular ‘been there, done that’ tourist spin for five or six days. But here I was, alone on a twenty day local bus trip and today was only day two, would I last another eighteen days, without the umbilical cord of data? Years of ‘civilised’ living had made me an addict to my smart phone, connecting to friends and family instantly, constantly, compulsively. 

My smart phone was a brick, the smartest smart phone will not connect without a signal, and I had no signal.

I boarded the bus for the eight hour journey, but as soon as it started I was impatient for it to end, to reach my destination. Would the bone-jarring, single lane, often 3000 meter high, perilously winding mountain roads never end?

...Why wouldn't the bus driver drive more slowly? Why, that was a near miss, we nearly fell into the river! Why do those goats not stay off the road. Why, why, why, six more hours of why.

On reaching Chitkul at about 3500 meters, I was rasping for breath while staggering to the home-stay. It claimed to have WiFi but I saw no trace of it. I went for a walk that evening, a gentle level ramble to acclimatise, on the way I kept trying to get a signal.

The next day I rose very early to climb a mountain nearby as I wanted to see the sun rise from the top, but as dawn broke I realised that in the dark I had taken the wrong path and the top was nowhere in sight. Breathing heavily, I paused to enjoy the sun-dappled hillsides and then scramble down, looking for a signal all the way. Rather guiltily, I began to feel nervously liberated, but still no signal, no data, what if...

Two days later I was on a bus to Reckong Peo and on to Sumdo, a journey of nearly ten hours. The bus was filled with chattering ladies and gents, all going to harvest fields along the way. 

The elderly lady next to me explained the types of crops they were going to cut and why they were doing it now (if they didn’t, as it got colder the semi-wild cattle from the mountains would come down eat the crop). 

That the hour or so in the bus each way was the only time in their busy day that the local people got to chat. I noticed that all of them had simple phones, only to make necessary calls, no data, they used their precious time to talk face to face.

Well into my journey a landslide had blocked the road and I was getting impatient again, when I noticed that no one in the bus was perturbed and they simply accepted the situation. Landslides are a way of life here, and fretting does not clear the huge boulders on the road. 

Finding one road closed it was much simpler to explore another. In doing so I found Kalpa, a very pretty apple orchard town, spending three days there.

As the days passed, I found myself slowing down, caring less about plans and mobile signals. Rambling on mountain pathways, I began to feel very close to myself, gradually leaving questions and urgent thoughts behind. 

I began to feel the texture of life at a slow pace, perhaps we have forgotten this pace? 

Walking among the old houses, I see when the wind was blocked with stones and wood and there was time to fit them together precisely. The year was dictated by the seasons and not the clock, work was completed before it got too cold.

I tasted, soaked in and felt the places I passed through, it was very liberating from the shackles of modern life. I met people, got to know them, ate what they ate, and for a moment in time was privileged to enter their lives.

The absolute peace is very calming, I made connections without a connection.

Forts - If These Stones Could Tell a Story

 

Forts evoke days of yore, proud sentinels of the land, looking in the eye of the enemy, hand to hand battles, chivalry and sieges. Forts could be small city states with fort palaces where the ruler could lock himself and his faithful in. Such fortress palaces extended many kilometres in diameter and encompassed within its walls the entire wherewithal to sustain life for months and even years. 

Koraigarh Fort complex was possibly built where function takes priority over form.  Just a tiny redoubt to protect a village or an outpost to collect taxes, such tiny functional forts dot the Indian landscape, looking out over the countryside.

Citadel of Tikone. The attacker could not reach citadel of a complex fort easily, he got to the very top of the fort,  if he did at all, after hard fought battles over a series of tactically placed obstacles.  He generally saw the citadel after crossing the Darwaza (door or gate ) of the fort, by this time he was quite spent in men and material.
 

Clouds come over the Sahyadris. Except for naval forts guarding harbours and river mouths, forts were almost always sited on a height so that they could imperiously survey the area around.  Clouds obscured vision, so a defender had to compromise between line of sight and altitude. 

Orchha Palace fort, reminiscent of glorious days gone by.  Forts were designed essentially for two purposes, the first being to dominate and defend territory or access to harbours. They also projected the might of a ruler, as the more ornate fort palace complex the mightier  the line of rulers. 

The grandeur of Gwalior Fort and Palace at sunrise. The second reason for making or extending forts and palaces were at times of famine when the ruler needed to disburse to the population the grain collected as taxes. Probably the original concept of giving food for doing work. These two reasons often overlapped so that battles across the country with accompanying famine gave us many forts.

The Bastion of the fort at Jhansi.  Being essentially defensive, forts were designed so that minimum soldiers could dominate far more vast armies or populations. These locations also served as sally ports for enhanced troops that the emperor may send to attack an invader. All features of a bastion were then oriented to these purposes. The steps, crenellations, embrasures, served to concentrate defending troops at points of decision.  Walls were so made that defenders could concentrate on sides where the attacker was maximum, effecting economy of defensive forces.

The steep approach Visapur Fort.  To space out an attacker, most approaches were narrow, up steep hills, the steps or path allowing for at most one or two men at a time. This forced piecemeal deployment of the attacker also enabled a defender to stop far greater numbers with the relatively few men available to him. 

The path up to the citadel of Tikone Fort.  By now the attacker would have been decimated by the outer walls and the layers of obstacles in his path.  The narrow and steep approach also meant that the attacker would have to use his hands for climbing and not for weapons. The degree of difficulty was increased by making the approach slippery with water and having high walls on either side manned by the defender.

A lone Monkey now sits sentinel on the mighty and extensive walls of Kumbhalgarh Fort.  The main gate of a fort was often at right angles to the path up, this was by devious design. Elephants or other gate-breaking devices could not charge the gate, having to turn at right angles meant slowing down and  reducing or negating the momentum of a charge.

The attacker of Tikone has the Bhuyari Darwaza to contend with.  The approach had rapid changes in light and dark for the attacker, this prevented his eyes from adjusting and disorientated him. Allowing the defenders on shelves in the dark to decapitate the attacker without being seen. 

Turret and walls of Jhansi Fort. The walls of a fort had crenellations, slits and turrets (bulges) to enable a fewer defenders to face a larger number of attackers. The slits were so designed that the defender would have a large field of fire (bow and arrow; later musket) while exposing himself the least.

A large weapon emplacement at Visapur. These weapon positions were funnel shaped, being wider towards the defender inside with a narrower slit visible to the attacker from the outside. The turrets allowed the defender to see the base of the fort walls on either side so that an enemy could not hide there. 

Water Cistern at Tikone.  In the days before gunpowder, it was nearly impossible to capture a fort by force of arms alone.  It was generally captured only by guile or treason, or by the attacker laying a siege, sometimes for years. To withstand a siege, the defender had to have adequate stocks of food and ammunition.

Reflection in a water cistern at Rajmachi.  The most important supply was water, as most forts were on hilltops, naturally occurring water was inadequate or non-existent. So almost without exception the defender made huge underground cisterns where rainwater was collected in the monsoon and stored for use in the dry months.

A large water storage facility at Tikone.  Water was (and is) needed for drinking, cooking and washing, sometimes for years. Besides the soldiers, often the local inhabitants of the area would withdraw into the walls to gain protection, so there was a very large need of water.  To cater to this copious need, huge water tanks were made above and below ground.  

Tuljadevi Mandir at Tikone.  Religion was (and is) very important to a soldier, after all he was being asked to lay down his life and there is no greater sacrifice.  Every fort has a temple which is dedicated to a ruling deity and many have more than one. In fact many forts are named after a deity. 

Another symbol of victory.  Battle was mystical and religious and most modern armies too have some form of worship to weapons and Gods of war. Shastr pooja (religious ceremonies pertaining to weapons) is an integral part of military life even today.   All parties to a conflict feel that God is on their side and the righteous will win, this belief has held true through the ages.

Weapons positions at Visapur.  Stones were precision cut, in most cases being held together by gravity or lime. Weapons slits were always tactically cut, never to accommodate a particular size of stone.   Depending on how long a fort had been in use and the time available, such places were austere or engraved and adorned. 

Stones in the wall of  Shreevardhan.  The line of the cut was so precise, that it each stone rests perfectly on the other. One wonders at the time taken to cut so finely such heavy stone blocks at  height with very restricted access. Most forts were made from stone quarried from where the fort stood.  These stones have withstood the centuries and structures made from them are still standing in places.

A tower at Gwalior Palace/Fort.  If the fort was meant to project power or had a palace within, embellishments were added to the more ornate carving in stone. Craftsmen would decorate the edifice with local or imported skills and materials.  In some places semi-precious stones or fine inlay work is evident where these have withstood the ravages of time and invaders through the centuries.

Tung Fort as seen from Tikone.  Communication means at that time were line of sight, smoke or reflections by day and fire by night. This was why many forts were within sight of each other, in many places one can see two or three other forts from one.

Langurs Frolic where soldiers once stood.  Fort walls are now decrepit, repaired in places and falling apart in others.  The fearsome crenellations of yore are now sadly overgrown with vegetation. Gunpowder and the industrial age gradually rendered fixed defences untenable, with these went forts. For a while some forts were re-purposed, as prisons, outposts or granaries, but now even these uses are no longer required.

Once proud walls look out over the country side.  Forts were once glorious but with time they have become irrelevant and mostly allowed to go to seed. In some places desultory repairs have been effected, but mostly these proud monuments to our military past are falling apart.  Tourists gawk, picnic and tragically litter what remains of this ancient military heritage. The tales of valour , heroism, treachery and daily life these stones  would tell if only they could talk.