Ever attended a wedding in a T-shirt and shorts? With a backpack completing the ensemble? I had the privilege to do just that, much to the amusement and horror of the guests who were decked out in their finest. When it comes to the latest fashion trends or appropriate dress code for events, I am either clueless or indifferent. But even I know that you don't gatecrash a wedding in shorts.
This funny yet heartwarming story has its origins in the Sangla valley of Himachal Pradesh. While backpacking through the mighty mountain ranges of north India, I heard a group of travelers discussing about Chitkul and the breathtaking beauty of the place. Hidden in the lap of the Himalayas, Chitkul is basically a few lucky houses located on a land between earth and paradise. I tend to gravitate towards word-of-mouth recommendations from the locals or fellow travelers as compared to the internet. It has stood me in good stead, and I wasn't going to break the habit now. Traveling without a time frame has often helped me in tearing up my itineraries and building them back up. I dug out more information about this "last village in India" and found out that the best option would be to take a morning bus.
The next day, I woke up before the sun's first rays hit the mountains. Taking those dark, lonely walks towards the bus stops in the mornings is a bit of a challenge as the streets at that time of the day are ruled by the giant dogs of the Himalayan kingdom. My entry into their domain has often resulted in simmering levels of tension, which sees them lashing out by way of deep throated growls or worse, a temptation to dig their teeth into human skin. I was lucky that day as they were probably more nervous than me or just too lazy to engage in any meaningful activity. After a few minutes of waiting, the bus arrived, and the passengers packed in like sardines in a can. I was lucky to get a window seat in the back row and it allowed me to alternate between the stunning views of the landscape and conversations with fellow passengers.
A few minutes into the journey, a Himachali guy sitting beside me started a conversation covering a range of topics from my personal details to the reasons behind my life choices. He wanted to know more about the city life and why he wanted to visit Mumbai (stalk the bungalows of film stars). Not afraid to have an opinion and dispense it with regularity, I found it quite interesting how he viewed the world. Someone dishing out judgement on my life in Mumbai could always expect a riposte but here in the mountains, I took it all in stride. There is something about the mountain air which chills our body and calms our soul. The last thing I wanted was an argument and so I nodded along with this one-sided conversation. When he asked me where I was headed, I replied "Chitkul". Upon hearing my answer, he let out a whistle and told me that I won't be able to go there today. I wondered whether there was a landslide on the way or some issue I was not aware of. Sensing my confusion, he said, "My friend, you cannot go there today because I am taking you to my sister's wedding function in Rakcham."
Taken aback at this impromptu invite, I deliberated on what to say. Though I wanted to attend as I had never been to a Himachali wedding, my mind was sending me signals that all this was just a joke or prank. Who in their right mind would invite a stranger they had known for an hour or so to an intimate family function? As I thought it over once more in my head, I got a feeling that my decision-making process was moot. The guy had already decided that I was getting down at Rackham with him and making arrangements with his friends for the uninvited visitor. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, I let the world take my matters in their own hands and just go with the flow. The rest of the journey passed uneventfully as he got busy with his phone calls, and I admired the wonderful scenery passing me by.
As we got down at Rakcham, I let out a whoop of joy at the sight I encountered. Acres and acres of green fields flanked by snow clad mountain ranges on one side and the river Baspa on the other. In spate, it seemed to be in a hurry to get out of here and I wondered why anyone would want that. I was brought out of my hypnotic state by my new friend, who finally introduced himself as Achal. He mentioned how the people here migrated every six months during winters to lower altitudes and returned during April to sow seeds and tend to crops. As we walked through the narrow lanes of the village, it seemed that I had been transported to a place from the past. There was no sign of things we take for granted in cities - no hospital, no newspapers, no post office, no internet, no police station, no restaurant and not even a market. There were a couple of shops selling basic necessities which seemed out of place in a landscape blessed with so much greenery, abundant water, and natural beauty.
The entire village was empty as everyone had gone to the shamiana (tent) erected near the Kali temple, the venue for the wedding. Along with another temple dedicated to Shiva and a Buddhist shrine, it was another reminder of a typical blend of Hindu and Buddhist ideology in the Himalayas. We reached the venue after a few minutes of walking and as I entered, it seemed that all eyes had turned towards me. Being an outsider, I expected it to some extent, but this was different. Feeling conscious and exposed, I looked at Achal for some momentary respite. As he was surrounded by his family members, I maintained my distance which prolonged my agony. After what seemed like an eternity, he introduced me to his parents. As I folded my hands to greet them with a Namaste, they surveyed me from top to bottom as if deciding whether to admit me or not. In such a state of awkwardness, I didn't know what to do other than follow their gaze and looking at my feet. It was then that I realized I was thoroughly underdressed for the occasion. An odd-looking t-shirt fitting nicely with shorts that were perfect for a run! No wonder, all the eyes were shifting towards me and staying there.
Achal, probably sensing my unease, came to my rescue as he guided me towards a house situated behind the temple. As I removed my backpack and racked my brain hopelessly to come up with a solution to this wardrobe malfunction, Achal offered me water and asked me to wait. If it was up to me, I would have waited out the entire day in the room. After a few minutes of inactivity, Achal entered the room with a kurta pajama set for me to wear. Shocked and happy in equal measure, I thanked him profusely for being my savior once again. The fact that he got me into this position in the first place was forgotten in that moment. I changed in a jiffy and tried to make myself comfortable in the attire that was one size short than I would have liked. Consoling myself with the reality that it was way better than my earlier costume, I was ready to make my re-entrance and meet everyone's gaze with a stare of my own.
I walked out with Achal and surveyed the scene in front of me. The family members and relatives were huddled close to the bride and groom who were having a hard time following the wedding rituals under the expert guidance of the purohit (priest). The rest were busy exercising their mouths, either to eat or in getting their point across to their neighbors. As Achal got busy, I made my way to an empty seat from where I observed the wedding formalities. The happy faces against a backdrop of the mighty Himalayas exuded a sense of peace and calm that is hard to find in overworked and congested cities. Thinking about the stark difference in lifestyles, I chuckled at the thought of city rats longing to experience the serenity that the remote countryside brings while the people in villages get tempted towards life in the city.
Lost in my own thoughts, I failed to notice that Achal's father had come beside me and was trying to get my attention. He was asking me to join the family members for lunch. As my stomach had been complaining nonstop that it needed some care, I was glad to receive the call for food. There was a special arrangement for the bride and groom and their families and when I was asked to join them, I was really shocked. I found this royal treatment quite awkward but mindful of the fact that a polite refusal might be misconstrued, I slipped into the chair close to Achal. I had barely settled when he introduced me to his sister and brother-in-law, who were seated to his right. They welcomed me with such warmth and openness that I melted right there in front of them.
Our discussion was interrupted when they started serving food and my thoughts turned to what was on the menu. The showstopper was a mutton dish, quite common for special functions in India. Being a vegetarian, it posed a significant problem, but I needn't have worried. Achal had asked the cook to prepare a dish specifically for me, made together by throwing in all the vegetables he could find. Now I understood why Achal had asked me about my dietary preference when we got down from the bus. Without my knowledge, he had arranged everything to make me comfortable. Roti, kapda and makaan (food, clothing and shelter), as the saying goes in India. I was really emotional in that moment, and I had to use all my self-control to stop myself from crying my eyes out. The love and care the family had shown for a total stranger was beyond my comprehension. I was touched beyond words and couldn't do anything more than thanking everyone from the bottom of my heart.
Even before I had eaten my first morsel, I was full.
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