A Few Paces from Heaven
Nestled high up in the mountains, in the state of Himachal Pradesh, in Upper Dharamsala, lies the village of Naddi, population unknown to me, but not really that many. So high up it is, that clouds roll in and out, causing heavy fog at times, and July being the monsoon, bringing ample rainfall. At times a drizzle, at others some showers, and rather often torrential downpours lasting hours on end. And so the mountainsides (being the Himalayas, there are many) feature scattered terraced rice paddies, among other abundant and luxuriant green vegetation.
As it is relatively remote, there’s not a lot to do, other than enjoy the spectacular scenery, whilst watching those incoming and outgoing clouds. And yet, that is the very point. To exist simply, just a few short paces from the heavens, and slow down, slow down, coming to a complete stop. That is the difference between a holiday and a retreat. Just to be sure, I left my wristwatch at home in Bangkok.
Certainly the food was very simple. On the second day, I proclaim the guesthouse cook to be “chicken-certified”. The following day he gained gobi parantha certification as well. There was always something nice to eat; the best of village home cooking. They made lovely masala chai, ample quantities of which I consumed daily.
Surrounded, even in July, by the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas, one has a sense of nature’s majesty. The Dalai Lama’s good energy from the valley below percolates upward and indeed all around.
This was no ordinary retreat. Exactly four years previously, I had spent 10 days in Bhagsu, a few kilometers from McLeod Ganj, the main backpacker town, although up on a different mountain. Those days were magical to be sure. I left the last time, believe it or not, to attend a 10-day course in Vipassana meditation, in Thailand of all places, well before it was even remotely apparent that I would take up residence in the Land of Smiles. Alas, upon my subsequent return to India that year, I never went back to Dharamsala, and in the intervening four years, there had always been an acute sense that my overall mission in India remained incomplete. I always knew I would return.
Fast forward to Royal Orchid Gold membership with Thai Airways, and a free ticket. I knew the time had come and I chose to make the necessary plans to complete the circle of my travels in the Subcontinent.
Naddi is something of a distance from McLeod Ganj, and I wisely decided to remain up in my cloud-embraced outpost for nearly the entire sojourn. On the two brief forays down for provisions, I was mildly surprised at how bustling and crowded it had become since my last visit. Lots more Indian tourists. Lots more rich kids on their gap year. Also given that the road between McLeod and Naddi was only partially paved in a few sections, my decision to just be alone up above seemed all the more apt. So even the green handcrafted successor to my Bag of Culture never got much use.
Uncharacteristically, I did not endeavor to make new friends. Rather, I luxuriated in the totally open free time to enjoy the splendid surroundings and to simply repose. I slept a lot, especially in the first few days. I read just a little. With some effort, I wrote this account. There were two decent music channels on TV, when the cable actually worked. And I got very good at Angry Birds! Up to level eight in Easter Eggs, level four in Go Green Get Lucky, and level 23 in Trick or Treat. It’s basically like a puzzle. Once you figure out the trick shot in a level, you can advance to the next. Rides on the metro and visits to the doctor will never be the same.
Handy device, that iPhone. One should never travel without music either. Lots of Indian chill-out tracks, courtesy of Josh-bhai, as well as updated Bollywood playlists, and of course plenty of trance, which is always fitting just about anywhere in India.
As time passed, the days seemed to rumble on somewhat faster. I had come back to this amazing place hoping to finally slake my thirst for its good vibes. Alas, perhaps it is destined to become a personal pilgrimage, to be repeated several more times over the course of a lifetime.
Kingfisher has direct flights between Delhi and Dharamsala (Gaggal). Heads-up: they delayed both flights I took. I sort of anticipated that, and added a buffer of a day each way. To that extent, the trip was nicely book-ended by visits with present and former colleagues in Delhi.
When I finally got home to Bangkok, on my night table, pretty as you please, sat my wristwatch. As it is a mechanical device, responding to the motions of my wrist, it had stopped late July 14th. Indeed, it would seem that, for me at least, time had really stood still.
