Manali through our eyes
Itinerary
November 3 to November 9
D Day - Dhaka to Delhi to Manali
Day 1 - Burwa apple gardens
Day 2 - Rohtang pass, Atal tunnel
Day 3 - Baralachala pass, Suraj taal, Deepak taal
Day 4 - Hike to Hampta valley
Day 5 - Solang valley, Hadimba temple, Mall road
Day 6 - Return to Delhi
D Day: To The Land of Lay’s
When I was in school, I used to envy two things. One was watching Hindi channels in tv. My mother was strict about not polluting the culture in our household with Hindi soap operas, which made me stare at my friends silently on the school bus when they were excited discussing the latest trendy dresses or the romance the actors and actresses shared on the screen. One other thing of envy was- a bright royal blue color packet of crisps. You know the royalty- Lay’s. The Indian ones. I grew up, became an adult, but my love or better said addiction to Lay’s never diminished. And there I go, on my first ever trip abroad, went straight to the land of Indian Lay’s.
We landed in Delhi. For 20 minutes we were awed by the road that led from the airport, until we finally found the taste of Dhaka in Paharganj. Paharganj was more or less like Puran Dhaka. You can find a restaurant in every lane. Tea stalls with customers of different nations. Different languages are spoken. I was happy, Lay’s are found in abundance in India. I bought a large pack of Lay’s that cost 78 rupees. Samudro looked at the packet with disapproval and declared he won’t be able to share much. I was in “who care’s” mode until I had to carry the Lay’s for three days. Don’t buy the 78 rupees Lay’s if you’re on a trip.
After an episode of “Sorry, we are from Bangladesh, we don’t have the OTP in our phone”, we boarded on the bus to Manali. From the warm climate transiting towards the cold. The highways in the Punjab state gave us a nice night view with the lights of the night clubs. Signs like “English beer shop” hanging from the doors. The bus stopped at a roadside restaurant, “Rangoli”. I ordered a masala dosa that I couldn’t finish of course. Samudro had two gulab jamuns only, because who else would help me finish the masala dosa that was almost my own size. Then we bought Limca, any chance to use my Hindi language skill, “kitney rupey?”. Opened the Limca and over the hiss of the soda, heard a childhood hit playing nearby “Ooh la la.. Ooh la la.. Tu hai meri fantasy”. I turned to Samudro and shouted “We are in India!”
Day 1: Landing on the pages of paradise
Pasting the journal I have written in my notebook on the exact date.
6:30 PM
04 November, 2023
Can’t believe I am married to my sweetheart, even though it’s been a year. We’ve made the most beautiful journey together. Now lying side by side, contemplating hard, is this reality or dream. Jo is mumbling a song, all of him inside the blanket except his bearded face and of course his hands, to hold the smartphone.
It’s so silent here. Surrounded by mountains. We’re here at Manali, having our so deserved honeymoon. The night sky and night village surrounding our window.
In the afternoon we went outside. Sun was rotating on the different mountain peaks, kissing other snow caps. Jo was helpless on the cross-section of a 3-way road. To our great rescue, arrived a beautiful husky dog, carefully sniffing us. Then after giving us a green signal, it started to guide us. It is the doggo that brought us to the apple orchard. We didn’t worry once about losing the track, because doggo took care of it. The paths are bordered with big stones, reminding me of a drawing that used to appeal to me in one of my fairy-tale books. And the apple trees and apples with all its redness and beauty- matched the description of paradise.
Our guide was very loyal to us. It almost dropped us back to our resort, but suddenly it changed direction, and like in the Tom & Jerry cartoon when Tom forgets everything seeing the lady cats, our doggo wasn’t our doggo any more. In one line, the bitch snatched him from us.
Evening came gracefully. Just the two of us, Taj tea sipping in our respective mugs. One sugar sachet in Jo’s mug, none in mine. The mighty silence and books accompanied us. Thoughts, bubbling inside me, wanting themselves to be rested in the graphite of pencil, and then it was time for me to be a beginner travelog writer…
Day 2: Give me a fist bump?
Our cab driver Rahul picked us up from our hotel. We stopped at a store to rent snow dresses, boots and buy thick woolen socks. The saleswoman, a local woman in her fifties, was selling the socks, commenting on our regular skinny socks, “Woh bilkul nahi chalega”. Picked up the accessories and we started our road trip to Rohtang pass. With each turn of the road, we were getting closer to the snowy peaks. I admired the roads very much, a zig-zag around the mountains, the engineering seamless. Nature was abundant, yet we could ride a four wheeled vehicle through the hard rocked mountains smoothly.
On the way, our driver Rahul started preaching to us about adventures in Manali. We paused at the paragliding spot. “Just” to see what was happening. And in a minute I signed up for it, asking Jo to give me a fist bump. Jo looked away from me. It’s a no from him. I was whining like his two-year-old-kid, trying to convince him “nothing will happen, I am just getting a cardio exercise”. Finally I trapped him, and he gave me the fist bump. I was ready to fly. The first few seconds felt a bit like riding the Nagordola. Then the falling slows down. It was not the bird's view scene I remember much, but the feeling of a rush, a feeling that you can jump into anything without fear. The fresh oxygen and racing heartbeat reminded me, this is it, life is now.
We reached Rohtang pass, out of mobile networks. Packed ourselves in the snow dresses. We rode two horses to go to the snowy mountains. Tog bog over the stones, tog bog over the muds, and tog bog over the ice. We landed on the ice, photographers, skiing guides surrounded us “couple photo chahiye?”. We quickly showed them our skiing coupon. A ninja-like guide took it from us and came back with a skiing board. Turn by turn, Jo and I took two skiing rides. For Jo, skiing upwards felt easier, but I liked the downwards skiing. And we promised to do this again sometime.
We started walking on the ice. The black stones that were still bare of ice gave us directions. We walked from point A to point B and simply walking was an accomplishment, a milestone of our time spent together. We rested on a flat big stone. The people downwards seemed like small dots. “Souuuup Coffeeeee” the salesmen’s chanting was heard mildly. We had a snow fight game that Samudro won. We tried to make a snowman. My chewed gum made the lips, and our dates’ seeds made the eyes. I was proud. After a few minutes, we left the snowman alone and warmed ourselves with noodles served hot from the stove. We took some of the best pictures of the tour. The day ended. We came back to our hotel and back to our warm blanket.
Day 3: World is quiet at 16000 ft
Samudro has this quality of getting up very early at the right time when it really matters. For example, when he has a meeting at 10 AM in the office, he doesn’t bother waking up early, but if there is football practice or cricket matches under scorching sun with his classmates, oh he is totally awake. Things that really matter. So, on our Baralacha pass day, Samudro woke up, brushed his teeth and got me out of the bed. We were ready before the sun was up. Again, our driver Rahul took us to the majestic ride. The mountains were a mixture of rocky ones and canopy ones. The roads were empty, and the car window misty. We wiped our windows to catch a glimpse of snowy caps, which were of the color orange, kissed by the first rays of the sun.
From about 6000 ft altitude, we started our journey. And we reached 16000 ft. The mighty Baralacha pass. The landscape was defined by the whiteness of the snow. The first few minutes, we caught up with our breaths. Adjusting to the minus temperature. Then slowly we stepped into the ice. There was an empty stone that served us as a seat. It was like sitting on an uneven rickshaw seat, one side was perfect, another side was sloping down.The passengers, me and Samudro switched sides to get a share of both the sides. There, in the silence and blazing white landscape, I felt, I am alone! Samudro was sitting beside me, but I feel completely myself when he is near me, and I realized, it makes me think of us as one, like alone. Like the dino comics, we are a couple who enjoys quiet places, avoids social gatherings and enjoys best when alone doing whatever we do in our books and laptops.
We played some Coke Studio Bangla songs, nodded our bodies with the beat, to keep ourselves moving and breathing. Jo asked me, which is the best place I have ever been so far? I answered, here.
On the way back we met a frozen lake “Suraj taal” and a semi-frozen lake “Deepak taal”. We met countless falls, some running, some frozen in a running look. We met rivers, their course along the stones that get ferocious during the monsoon. We stopped near Zispa village. There we shared a mutton momo and lemon tea. The dhaba was run by a local lady, who was knitting some woolen hand gloves. There was a very cute toy-like dog in the shop, its collar tied to a heavy object. The lady served us the momo and sat back to knit. I wondered how it would be to live in this serene place, pass time knitting clothes to sell after, and occasionally serve customers whatever menu is for the day…
Day 4: Take a trek
Our usual breakfast in Kalista resort was fresh watermelon juice, Indian menu number 4- chana batwa, and lots of tea for me. I load myself with lots of liquid and desperately look for a washroom wherever I go. On trekking day, I skipped the juice and the tea. One full day without a washroom.
Our guide’s name was Sonu. I was thinking how to address him “Sonu ji”, “Sonu bhaiya”... but “Sonu Nigam” was what fell from my mouth ultimately. We reached Jobri, to start our Hampta valley trek. At first we were making two steps, pausing, and clicking pictures- the landscape demanded our focus!
We left our caps in the hotel, convinced by Samudro that we won’t need them. Even though the breeze was strong, the sun rose over our heads and I started missing the caps. Like a good wife, I let Samudro know that my head is burning, but not once I told him about the caps. See!
We were walking in a straight line. Sonu ahead, then me, and Samudro at the end of the line. I am a huge tech-debt in trekking. “Jo, look at that tree!”, and downslide, Jo in my rescue- this was a common routine. At the end of the trek, my white Puma shoes got a nice gray texture, my skin tanned (because someone said it won’t be sunny) and my husband mentally stressed out to protect a kid. Not that bad, right? You get a first hand experience of being a parent!
Hampta valley sits between a series of canopy mountains and a series of rocky handsome figured ones. At places, trees are colored yellow. The valley ground contained large and small stones, they had been slid from the mountains and accumulated over millions of years. Like a chef tops a dish with sprinkles, the valley surface was topped with huge sized stones. The valley had its own sound. At places we heard the sound of waves and after a few steps the river appeared with magnificent flow.
The lunch was delicious. We were introduced to persimmon fruit by our guide Sonu. It tasted like watermelon, Jo suggested apple, and finally we settled for papaya, but definitely better than papaya.
Day 5: Drawing the dreams live
8th was my birthday. So, Jo let me do anything that day. I was terribly late for breakfast and our journey, but hubby didn’t say anything. I wore a saree that was owned by my mother. A white chiffon, topped with red and blue flowers. You won’t see these sarees in the market nowadays. Thankfully I owned one by stealing from ammu’s wardrobe. I had this fantasy of wearing a sleek fabric in the cold and posing for the camera, like I saw in Bollywood video songs. Rani Mukherjee running in mountains, wearing just a thin, transparent saree. So, I dressed up for my imagined movie. Jo took some nice shots, and as soon as it finished, I changed into pants and windbreaker.
We went to Solang valley. In the car, I had a feeling of leaving something at the hotel room. Indeed I left my drawing book and pencils, specifically bought for this tour. I knew I wouldn’t draw anything, puzzled by the beauty of nature, but without a drawing book it feels incomplete. Then Jo suggested why don’t I use my S pen to draw on my phone. For the thousandth time, I was grateful I had made the trip with him, I would be lost in the airport and couldn’t make it this far if I was traveling alone.
Reaching Solang valley, we met a photographer. We showed no interest in taking photos, even though we were interested. We settled for a price. The photographer asked us to make different poses “bhaiya ko putty deo” meaning “give a hummy to brother”. “Heart banao”, “aise pakrao”. And with each shot, he commented “Suppppper photo!” Well, the photos didn’t come out super. They lacked the DSLR quality. The photographer was a noob and we got our lesson.
There were local sellers selling saffron in tiny plastic jars. They were roaming around the tourists and asking “kesar le lo?”, “buy some kesar?”. It was like drug sellers offering a special price around us. LOL. To our left “Kesar le lo?”, to our right “le lo kesar? Sasta price hai”. We didn’t buy kesar to their dismay. We rented a pair of traditional dresses and posed for some pictures. In Jo’s phone there is a 4 seconds video that he made- I was looking at the camera while an old woman was dressing me up in traditional Himalayan attire. I was looking jolly, a lot. And very kiddy too. I caught Jo watching this video on his phone, playing it a hundred times in a row. That proves something, you know.
This time of November, Solang valley takes the color of yellow and orange. The landscape is surrounded by orange leaves falling on the valley and snowy mountain peaks in the background. Jo and I drew a picture together. We drew the snowy peaks white, the valley red and orange and yellow. It occurred to me, we were in the dream land! Like Anthony Doerr’s “Cloud Cuckoo Land”. We are two creatures, meant to enjoy nature, live in a fairy tale. And to be the characters of a story.
The second half of the day was spent seeing local sights. We went to Hadimba temple. We were robbed of 20 rupees each by the “Rabbit le lo?” ladies. These aunties rent Himalayan plushy rabbits for 20. Jo was not interested. But the aunty literally took away his phone from his hands and replaced it with a rabbit. Then we posed and CLICK! Jo, rabbit 1, rabbit 2 and me. A family photo of humans and rabbits.
We toured the Mall roads in the evening. “Stole hain, shawl hain” announcing salesmen. There were shawls of every kind- Kashmiri, yak wool, rabbit wool. We purchased souvenirs for our families. Dinner was at Cafe 1986, popular for its live music. I ordered a tiramisu latte, the size of my own head. Once again, it was my birthday, hubby couldn’t object to anything! We called it a night and came to our hotel, the last night at Kalista resort.
Day 6: Bye bye Manali
Packing our luggages again. We went outside once more. Toured the Burwa village for one more time. Stopped at a local dhaba and ordered noodles and momo. The dhaba was run by a family- a couple like us, but older. The woman didn’t look like a mountain dweller. Probably she came here on a trip. The mountains, or the man, or both changed her address permanently. The couple prepared the meal together for us. I was listening to the sound of washing ingredients, of steaming momos. We were served two hot plates.
Said bye to our hosts at Kalista resort. I must mention how polite they were at Kalista! We felt at home. We boarded the bus in the evening. Jo didn’t recommend it, but I had panipuris anyway. The bus stopped at one place to load more passengers, it was near a fruit stall. And voila, I saw tomato-like fruits from the window. It was persimmon! I thought, what would my mother do in this scenario? I jumped out of the bus and bought a kilo of persimmon. When I was riding the bus again, more passengers were going to the fruit stall, to buy persimmons or simply to ask “Bhaiya, ye kya hota hai?”
The tour ended. We are back home. Together we cooked daal, vaat and aloo vorta. I peeled the potatoes, Samudro washed the rice and warmed the meat that we put in the freezer before leaving for the trip.
Hungover and starting life again. Jo asked me to pause making food. He wanted to ask me something seriously. I paused and looked at him. And then he asked me the burning question… “Kesar le lo?”
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