The beginning, the porter, the stone and the nervousness
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| The Mystic Karnali as seen from Kharpu village, Humla |
I was lost for words in Simikot. I had never been so close
to the mountains my entire life. It was a new experience to me, and I was
talking it all in. I took some pictures, enjoyed the view for a while, and
eventually collected my bags and headed towards the airport exit. The office guard
was waiting for me by the door. He helped me with my bags and we headed towards
my hotel. On my way, I could see heaps of snow laying around houses and roads.
I think that snow is something very special for us people living in Kathmandu
because we never really get to see them. So, yeah, I was pretty much excited to
see so much of it. Part of me wanted to throw my bags and jump right into it,
but I controlled my instincts.
We reached our hotel and I had a chat with the guard, Mr.
Nara Bir Thapa for a while. Currently, there were no office staff in Simikot, and
that I had to leave the very next day and make my way towards Darma, my work
station.
In case you don’t know, Humla is one of the two districts
that is not connected to the Nepali Road Network (the other one is Dolpa). It
has few lengths of earthen roads around the Chinese boarder, but none around its
headquarters and VDCs. So, the primary (and only) means of transportation is by
foot. And to reach Darma, you had to walk for three days.
Nara kept on emphasizing the fact that the trail was very
dangerous, and that it may well take me even four days to reach my destination.
He told me that there was no hurry and advised me to walk with no rush. Nara arranged
a porter for me; an old foreman who went by the name Naresh Bahadur Shahi.
It felt like everything was moving so fast. Two hours ago, I
was in the flat lands of Nepalgunj, and the next thing I know, I was planning
to walk for a trail situated in the Himalayan region of the most underdeveloped
district of the country. I was enthusiastic, but anxious. Everything was so new
to me. A new place, new people, new experiences, and apparently, a new language
too, that too in the span of two hours. I knew nobody, except Nara Bir and
Naresh dai. The realization that I had to walk for three days in an unknown
land with a complete stranger had not blended in well with me, but that was the
only option. I had to do it.
Fast forward to the next day, and me and my companion’s
journey towards Darma started off. Naresh dai had introduced himself to me the
previous day. When I called him dai, he insisted to be called only by his name,
but I would not have it. I called him dai anyway. He had told me that the road
was steep, narrow and full of dangers, but asked me not to worry because he was
there. He looked very old and looked as though he was full of wisdom. His tone,
although very different from the ones I was used to, was reassuring and calm.
He didn’t talk much, but I managed to get him to tell some things about himself
during our walk to Darma. He had worked for thirteen years in India and managed
to pay for his younger son’s primary education. He didn’t know how to read or
write, but he had enough wisdom to make sure his son did. He also told me that
he tried for more than ten years to get his family out of Humla, to Surkhet,
for a better life and better opportunities, but he couldn’t. Now, he had given
up. When I asked if he was going back to India, he said he was too old for that
now, and that he planned to spend the rest of his life in Humla with his
family. I thought Naresh dai was one of the many examples of people who wanted
to make something of their life but whose aspirations and expectations were
crushed and overpowered by the inaccessibility and adversity offered by the
mighty Humla.
All the more reasons to make it accessible by roads.
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| The wise, calm and failthful Naresh Bahadur Shahi |
Anyways, we started our walk at around 11 a.m. We made our
way through Syamne village, then Kharpu and Yangchu. I realized that the
picturesque headquarter of Humla was a deception of its true nature, because
immediately after I headed away from Simikot, I could see poverty, hardship and
misfortune all around me. I had always known about Karnali zone and its
poverty, but not to what extent. Seeing everything first hand, I slowly began
to understand the reality of the place and the state of people who were forced
to live in it.
Then we made it to Bokche-Gauda. At this point, I could
hardly understand what people were talking about. The Khasa-accent of the
people there was getting thicker and thicker as we moved away from the
headquarters. The amazing thing is that they thought I understood it too. So, I
used to smile and nod every time they talked to me. I could figure out some
words sometimes and work with it to give a sensible reply.
It had already been five hours of walk, and the trail was
very comfortable until Bokche. After having lunch, Naresh dai, with his most
somber voice yet, told me that the trail was very dangerous three hours from
now. It was already 4 o’clock. So we had
to move fast.
The walk from Simikot to Bokche was child’s play as compared
to the trial after Bokche. It was ridiculously narrow. There were no vegetation
to cling on to while we walked. And it would be a direct 100m unobstructed free
fall into the seething Karnali River if our feet sidetracked even inches from
its original route. But we walked slowly and steadily. We passed the most
difficult sections of the road and were making our way through Lali Village
when all of a sudden, a stone whizzed passed in between me and my porter from
above and fell down into the river. It scared the life out of me and my feet
began to tremble. I looked up, and saw
as many as 25 cattle grazing directly above us. My feet was really shaky at the
moment and I wanted to sit down, but Naresh dai told me it was dangerous so we
quickly made our way through that section and into a relatively safer place. It
was at that time that I realized that I was really in a dangerous place. The
stone missed us by inches, and even though it was small, if it did hit us, we
would surely lose our balance and (probably) fall off. It was about 6:30 pm
when we reached Lali, and we still had an hour walk ahead of us to reach our
destination for the day. But I was pretty stunned to continue after what happened,
so we decided to stay in Lali itself.
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| Narrow paths along the Simikot-Darma trial |
It was an old, isolated home and a couple with three kids
were the inhabitants. We were given two beds that smelled like feet and had no mattresses.
The place was very dirty, with fleas all around. But I was too tired to pay
notice to that. We had our dinner (local “Raato Chamal” and “Simi ko daal”) and
I had a chat with the owner of the house.
He seemed like an entrepreneur who was born in the wrong
place. He had so many ideas for farming and putting up apple orchids and
opening up a hotel for when roads made its way along his front yard. I didn’t have
the heart to tell him that his vision was only a reverie that could never come
true in his lifetime. I had a feeling that somewhere in his heart, he knew that
too, but he still dared to dream of vehicles passing through his house and making
life a bit less tough.
Some of my relatives told me that my stay in Humla will change
me as a person and how I perceive life. They were right. It took me only a day to
see the atrocious lifestyle of the people there and I realized that Nepal was
not only Kathmandu, or Pokhara or Biratnagar. Nepal was also Yangchu, or
Kharpu, or Laali, where people had to work the living soul out of themselves
for simple bread and butter.
I went upstairs, not sure if I would fall asleep in a mattress-less
bed, but turns out I was so tired that I fell asleep the minute I laid down.
Tomorrow was a long day, and I needed my invigoration, for
the trail tomorrow was going to be long and full of stories.
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