Mandua Ki Roti, With Daal

We had driven to Chopta from Haridwar. After a night's stay at a Dharamshala, the five of us reached what would ideally be called the base-camp for a trek. Now before any one starts drifting into the consideration that this is a narration of our trek, let me clarify, it's not. I'm no ardent trekker either! This was a tour where I had been rather trapped, I would say....as I had accompanied my college friends to this trip to Himalayas, during our Engineering semester break; assuming that it would comprise of enjoyable drives amidst the mountain roads surrounded by Pine trees with country music being played in the car. Instead, it had turned out to be a well-charted trek trip, thanks to my seasoned trekker buddies. This was the first trek of the tour, and was to be followed by one to Garsan Bugiyal.

Reaching early at the base, we entered the only eatery that was available. It was a hut with thatched roofs, owned and run by an aged couple. Despite the lack of luxury, it was stunningly clean. Freshly wiped floor and freshly lit stove indicated they had just started their business for the day. I, Priya, Renu, and Rahul threw our rucksacks around and tugged ourselves cosily on the narrow wooden benches inside. Dhruv, who was our key guide, lit his cigarette and stood outside, revising the route.

"We should be good to start in an hour from now....don't stuff yourself too much though !" he said, " It ideally doesn't take more than two-and-a-half hour, but with a few novices in our gang, I expect it to take up to three-four hours."

Myself, Rahul and Priya exchanged glances knowing very well who the novices were. Renu was the sole member who had had equal experiences of trekking like Druv.

"I can't move!", I declared, after gorging in slightly ...okay, quite a bit...more than how much Dhruv had prescribed. But, was I to blame? Absolutely not. The aged lady had made fresh Roti, along with a hot daal. Her husband had simultaneously prepared a very simple, yet spicy Aloo ki sukhi sabzi (dry recipe of potatoes). Together, all of it did taste heavenly! And surprisingly, even at that age, they both were so agile that all of it took barely a few minutes for them to prepare. The old man kept serving us the sabzi, while his wife made hot rotis, smeared those with ghee and served us.

"These are Mandua ki Roti.." Renu had explained, "you'll find them across in Uttarkhand...I often call them pahadi roti....it has a unique texture".

After taking a rest longer than what had been warranted for, we finally took our bags and started climbing uphill. Although a short one, the Tunganath trek is supposed to be one of its kind in terms of both steepness and scenic beauty. Once we were noticeably away from the base, and had gone higher above the locations where e could still spot houses, a ravishing view unfolded itself before us!

The road to Tunganath.....was a majorly a well paved road bounded by smooth rocks, with mountain-wall on one side, and lush green valley on the other.

"Now I know why it's called mini-Switzerland!", Rahul said, panting, yet scanning the green meadows sprawling across the mountain side, dotted with purple and orange flowers. Beyond those, as we looked up, we could see snow-covered peaks of the mighty Himalayas surrounding it. That particular day, the sky was pleasantly clear, with pure white clouds floating lazily across the sky, whose pollution-free-blue-shade was new for our eyes.

"Those small, sporadic houses that you see...that look like temporary, make shift huts...those are called Chhaans," Renu taught, "local shepherds stay there." After several intermittent breaks at these Chhaans, over tea made from thick, creamy milk of mountain goats, we finally reached our destination after a good four hours.

The entire area of Tunganath could have probably comprised of just one lodge with 3 rooms having nothing other than cots and blankets dumped inside, around four-five tea stalls offering maggi, biscuits (yeah even up there, the Engineering students could find their good old maggi), a narrow lane comprising of small houses of these shop owners, the Tunganath temple slightly above all of these...with a small cave beside the temple where a Sanyasi would be found sitting and chatting away with the tourists or shop owners throughout the day. There was no electricity all over the place, including the lodge, The lodge didn't even have fan, lights or windows. ..and once it was past the sun-set, we knew why.

By the time Renu had done her photography of the surrounding steep valleys, Dhruv had befriended the Sanyasi and arranged for something premium he said he wanted to smoke, Rahul was done with his share of sleep in the lodge, myself and Priya had completed a visit to the temple to scrutinise where would the localities come from, to offer prayer there and keep the temple running......it was evening. We all gathered in the lodge, and nagged Rahul to wake up.

"It's getting cold outside," Priya said,"

Let's take rest for some time before we head out for dinner."

"We should aim for tomorrow's sun rise at Chandrashila," Renu added," There's a narrow route by the hill along which we will have to walk early morning to reach there...."

"One second...you mean that narrow path, having steep slope on one side? Going right beside that temple area? That one?" Priya exclaimed.

"Well..yes..have you seen that?" Renu asked.

"Seen that?! We both even walked on it till some distance, "Priya said, pointing towards me, " It seemed way too risky for us to continue! So we came back....God it's so damn narrow, we couldn't even put two feet side by side! And in the dawn...won't it be dark? I'm scared! I'm happy with enjoying the scenery around, " Priya declared, adjusting herself within a pair of thick blankets, “It’s..it's so serene....and quiet outside...like we're far from the civilisation altogether. Have you seen those kids? They are so happy playing amidst the mountains......"

"Yes, "added Renu..."When I was around clicking my photos, I saw a small kid sitting right by the edge of the hill, playing with some stones on his own. I alerted him...as I thought he was quite close to the edge....and I looked around for his parents. But he looked up, ignored me and resumed his game. It's like the Himalayan valleys are their porch. It's like they don't care about having small houses...because the entire land is their home!"

"Agreed Renu, but are you the only one who has become so emotional with the beauty around that you aren't even feeling cold? Or am I the only one shivering away?" Rahul uttered, with his teeth clattering in chill. It was freezing cold. More so, after the sun set the temperature dropped at a rate as steep as the hill side. By now we all had gathered within multiple layers of blankets. Now we knew how irrelevant it was to have windows there..because nobody would dare open them. It was getting dark too, so we lit a lantern inside our room. Somehow managing to wrap ourselves in as many number of jackets and wind-cheaters as we could, we stepped out to walk up to the stall right beside the lodging, to grab dinner.

It was pitch dark by then. Looking around, from beneath my cap, I could see no signs of light other than small fires lit at the shops. Looking up, I could see a few candles lit around the temple, as the priest there was preparing to offer the last prayer of the day.

"You've come on an auspicious day...it was a special prayer day today at this temple...that's why you saw a few localities coming in the temple," the stall owner said, smiling," otherwise by now even the temple should have been closed." It was a surreal experience, to be surrounded by nothing but silence and darkness, with a silhouette of temple standing tall , thanks to the candle lights...even against that dark background. The stall owner made us sit on ground inside the stall, by a small fire. There was no dining area per se....he himself sat right beside us, and served us some daal which was boiling hot. It was so hot that I couldn't even figure out the taste....nor could I understand what daal it was. But right then, and there, that boiling hot temperature was all I needed, to keep me from freezing...so as to enjoy the ambience properly.

Suddenly, the sanyasi stepped out of his cave, and started blowing a trumpet. The music echoed amidst the hills, as the priest read out some chanting to shut the temple for the day. That was apparently a daily ritual there. Once the ritual was over, the temple candles were put off, the sanyasi returned to his cave, the area of Tunganath wrapped itself back into a heavier garb of darkness and silence, as we dipped our Mandua ki rotis back into the hot daal, to prevent our hands from freezing.