India. What did I learn ?

I am now back in Indonesia after 3 weeks in India.
So what did I learn ?
How marvellous the Himalaya are. How incredible India really is
I could not see a line between poverty and happiness. It has never been drawn. Like riches, happiness and poverty are impostors. Then who or what is absolute ? It must be God. The Durrand line, the McMahon lines, the Line of Control, are lines drawn by people. Mere mortals. Lines are like invisable maps on my heart.

An unbelieveable story

During my last week in India I have been following the sad situation of Kashmir Singh who has languished in a Pakistani jail for 35 years. Imagine the harrowing and dehuamising experience he has been through.

The BBC gives us the latest update on the storyAn Indian man released from a Pakistani prison after spending 35 years on death row has been reunited with his family in India.
Kashmir Singh, sentenced to death for spying in 1973, was released on Monday.

He was discovered by Ansar Burney, a social worker who tracks people lost in Pakistan's jail system.

Hundreds of servicemen and civilians were imprisoned by India and Pakistan during hostilities between the two sides in 1965 and 1971.


Mr Singh's wife and son were among hundreds of people who had gathered to greet him at the Wagah border in the northern Indian state of Punjab.

Mr Singh was re-united with his family after basic medical tests and checks at the border.

"I am very, very happy and will escort him back to gurdwara [Sikh temple] to pray," his wife, Paramjeet Singh said.

Spies

Ansar Burney discovered Mr Singh on a recent trip to a jail in Lahore and persuaded Pakistan President Pervez Musharraf to revoke his death sentence and order his release.

Mr Singh was a former policeman who had become a trader in electronic goods.




India's missing POWs

Speaking on Monday after his release from jail, he said: "I feel better. I am happy."

Mr Singh was arrested in the city of Rawalpindi in 1973 and convicted of spying.

Pakistan and India frequently arrest each other's citizens, often accusing them of straying across the border - some are treated as spies.

Mr Burney is currently the government's caretaker minister for human rights.

'Hell on Earth'

Mr Burney said last week that Mr Singh had been held in a condemned prisoner's cell for most of the time since his conviction, and had become mentally ill.

He said that he was first informed about the case several years ago by members of the Indian community in London.

But he was unable to locate Mr Singh, despite visiting more than 20 jails across the country in connection with his campaign for prison reforms and prisoners' rights.

The minister said Mr Singh had not received a single visitor or seen the open sky and, like other condemned prisoners, was locked in an overcrowded cell for more than 23 hours a day, in conditions which the minister described as "hell on Earth".

Wandering around Delhi

I had an enjoyable day yesterday strolling round Delhi and enjoying the atmosphere and taking in the contrasting styles of architecture from the old Moghul style to Lutyen;s modern New Delhi. Deldi has lost none of its charm, charcter, colours and snmell.

A canon outside Rastrapathi Bhawan.

The government buildings near Rastrapathi Bhavan

The bookseller of Delhi and a tasty lamb curry.

I had a most productive yet relaxing Saturday in New Delhi. Later in the morning visited my good friend Anuj, who travelled with me for part of my journey in Himachal Pradesh. Anuj is a bookseller, publisher and book agent. A very talented and creative man who can talk books and publishing all day, when he has time.

I am giving a talk in Delhi on Monday to friends and I was getting Anuj to assist me to polish up my slide presentation. Then I splurged out and bought more books. My suitcase is full of wonderful newly published books.
I then copied 60 odd pictures for Ricky Ram back in Sidhbari as I promised to send him a record of the trip. Then I went round the corner and bought one kilo of good lamb (probably goat) from my favourite butcher plus some quality vegetables. Cooked myself a tasty lamb curry for a late lunch and then watched a little cricket and then dived into a few good books. The lamb curry was so good that I made a second one for a late dinner and washed it down with a fine bottle of Indian Red cabernet savignon. Gosh, Indian wines have improved over the past ten years.

The booksell/publisher and his shop

Anuj Bahri hard at work. Mobile in one hand talking, laying out a book on computer screen and keeping an eye on the shop from his private perch.

Bus conductors in the hills of north-west India

A beautiful and warm Saturday morning in Delhi. The mountain part of the journey is over and I have started re-exploring Delhi, where I lived for six years between 200 and 2006.



So many lingering memories of my trip in the mountains of Himachal Pradesh are vividly etched in my thoughts but one that stands out is the bus conductors and the local buses. I dedicate this small tribute to them: The photo above is from the Hindi Movie the Bus conductor.



The are efficient, officious and strong characters. Their status lies on one key ring and chain which hangs the following: whistle, stapler, ticket puncher and a wad of tickets. He wears an unwritten sign on his face, “ I am important, don’t mess with me.”



At every stop he has to woo passengers aboard in coaxing tones, announcing destination and quality of bus, which resembles mostly a rust bucket. Like a half bred crab and monkey, he has to swing down an aoisle full of sweating bodies and dusty suitcase and large bundles, and claw his way towards fare dodgers. He cares for the elderly ensuring that young people give up their seats, and treats the arrogant justly with disdain by ignoring their complaints. Pretty women tend to get more that a cursory glance, and anyone he classifies as undesirable, he doesn’t let on the bus. Foreigners he treats no differently as long as you pay respects and pay your fare.



To get to Delhi, I caught one bus the 240 km trip from Kullu to Chandigarh which took almost seven hours and then another bus from Chandigarh to Delhi taking 6 hours.



I am off shortly to see my close friend Anuj Bahri, bookseller and publisher who took me just over two weeks ago on the start of my journey. As I did not manage to get to Dehra Dun, I am hoping we will travel together in his luxurious 4 wheel drive as my back doesn’t feel like another long local bus trip.

A wedding, a worn path, tea plantations and a fresh snowfall.

Fresh snowfall on the Dhaula Dar mountains on Monday night

The last night in Sidhbari with Rikhi Ram and our live-in family



The path through the village

The wedding band in the main street of Sidhbari

Tea plantation at Palampur



After a trip to Chamba and Parvati valleys, I felt like a day off. So on Tuesday, I told Rikhy Ram, to give me some space. Space in India ? No, I am now part of his family and Sidhbari village and Rikhy insisted I come. So I walked the 2 km across the worn path through wheat fields (see photo) and small house with the Dhaula Dhar mountains towering above.

Loud music led me to where the wedding was being held. I met the charming Colonel and his beaming wife whose daughter was getting married. It started with the local band leading the bride and groom in a car through the main street of Sidhbari. Every shopkeeper, woman, man, child, dog and cow in the village turned out to watch this grand affair. I wonder how many married women who lined the street were thinking, “foolish girl, she doesn’t understand what is ahead of her.” Life for a married woman in the hills of India is a hard life where the husband is King and the women seem to do most of the work.

After the wedding procession and the vows, it was time to tuck into a great feast of Indian food, all vegetarian.

It soon turned cold, “ It will be snowing in the mountains.” said Rikhy looking knowingly at swirling dark clouds. After the wedding I took Rikhy to a local internet café to show him Google Earth. Rikhy, who worked most of his life in military intelligence and worked in Pakistan (undercover spy) for two years, Bhutan, Chinese border with India, gathering intelligence and filling in blanks on the map, at 72 years of age, had begged me to show him the latest satellite imagery. Within a minute I had Rikhy glued to the computer screen as he named remote places and I zoomed in on Google Earth and he could see every spur, path, peak, nullah (creek) on the map. He was dumbfounded. “ I spent almost my whole military life getting information like this, and now we can just sit here and see all this detail,” he exclaimed excitedly.

As we came out onto the main road, the cloud was lifting, and there before us was the freshly blanketd mountains looking so pure and majestic.(see photo)

We visited the local tea plantation in Palampur keeping one eye on the sparkling Himalaya as we drove.

That night, my last in Sidhbari, we lit a charcoal fire on the brazier, and sat on the balcony with Rikhy, Gurbachan (watchman) his wife Rekha, and children Aanchal and Mushkaan. As the embers reddened, I looked across to the Himalaya sparkling in the dark and I reflected on 11 days in Himachal Pradesh. A dream had come true. When I first visited the Himalaya in 1972 and I travelled to the hill stations of Darjeeling, Kalimpong and Gangtok, I wanted to see more of this vast mountain range. In 1975 I lived a year in Nepal and travelled from east to west in my work and holidays seeing most of the high Himalayan peaks. Then after years of working in Afghanistan, Pakistan and Central Asia, I was able to see and connect the Tienshan, Pamirs, Hindu Kush, and Karakoram to the Himalayan ranges.

Since 2003, I became obsessed with the valleys of Himachal Pradesh and I wanted to understand and connect in my mind, the lesser Himalayan ranges the Pir Panjal and Dhaula Dar.

The reddening coals could see my happiness as Rikhy and I toasted to our trip next year, planned to the remotest valley of them all, the Pagi valley, right under the Pir Panjal.. As I age, I prefer dreams to memories. I always need to have that last valley to visit. That is the essence of my life.

Across the last blue mountain barred with snow
Across the angry and glimmering sea

Parvati Valley - Himalaya

High peaks in the Himalaya from the Parvati valley, Himachal Pradesh, India

Rikhy Ram talking to villagers at Pulga

Kullu valley before Bhuntar with the Beas river flowing through.

Boy and gil at Mandi with baby lambs and goat


Caption:Crossing the bridge to the old part of Manikaran, Parvarti Valley




Sheep, Nepali roadside restaurants, freezing cold, fresh snow, cheap dirty hotels, hydro electric schemes which blot mountain landscapes, high mountains, roaring rivers, terraced rice and wheat fields and a good dose of diarrhoea have been part of my life for the past few days.

From the feet of the Dhaula Dar and Pir Panjal mountains in the past 10 days, yesterday I stood at the foot of the Greater Himalayan Range from the eastern end of the Pavati valley..

The Dhaula Dar and Pir Panjal are the two lower Himalayan Ranges that make up the western part of the Greater Himalaya.

On Saturday and Sunday (23 and 24 Feb) I visited the Parvati valley and walked up to almost 3000 metres from the roadside village of Pulga, I have now been able to visit all the main valleys in Himachal Prade since 2003: Spiti, Lahaul, Chamba, Kanga and Kullu. It was a real privilege to be accompanied by Rikhy Ram, a 72 year old ex-army intelligence officer who knows the mountains of Himachal Pradesh better than most and has walked over most passes and up and down all the valleys, except Parvati. So to have his company was a real treat, Rikhy speaks all the local languages and helps me piece together the history, people’s impressions and as an artist, photographer and cartographer, is invaluable to unlock many of the geographic mysteries that remain on the por quality maps of the region.

We stayed Saturday night in an hotel at Manikarran, which is the ugliest town I have ever visited in the entire Himalaya. I am not one given to complaining, but it epitomises the worst in India’s lack of city planning. The only thing going for it was that we could buy two bottles of Red wine in one of the shops.



Clearly the highlight was the morning we spent around Pulga village and to mix with hill people and migrant workers from Nepal. Rikhy takes copious notes from his conversations and within a few hours, hasput together a potpourri of stories, facts, names of mountains and the like.

Snow was down to the river side and people were huddled together in shawls trying to catch patches of watery sunshine..

We got back late last night to Sidhbari just 20 minutes from Dharamsala. Today I plan to visit Dharamsala and Macleodganj with Rikhy. I have been there a number of times before but Rikhy wants to show me some new places I have not seen.

Tomorrow I am planning to go to Dehra Dun and ;possibly Mussorie via Chandigarh. The