Rakcham: Day Four (13/05/11)

Rakcham: Day Four (13/05/11)

I woke up late today and immediately checked myself in the mirror. The sun burn looked just as bad as it had yesterday and I was pretty disappointed. I don’t know if I was expecting to wake up and see my face magically restored to its pre-UV exposure prime, but still the utter lack of improvement was a downer and that seemed to be the theme of the day. I had till afternoon to catch the bus to Chitkul so I spent the morning lazing around reading Don Quixote. Cervantes’ wit captured me completely and I didn’t realize the time passing away. I checked the time at 11:25 A.M and dashed out of the house to the bus stop lest I miss the bus to Chitkul. Mr. Kumar’s daughter was managing the general store and she told me that the bus wouldn’t show up till at least 12:30 P.M. I wished then that I had remembered to pack Quixote and settled down in front of the shop waiting for the bus to show up.

Mr. Kumar’s daughter (I don’t know her name) eventually strolled over and started talking to me. I found out that she worked at the university in Rampur and that she was pretty knowledgeable about the area and also the terrain. We spent some time discussing her life in Rakcham and my life in Hyderabad and it was a nice respite from the utter lack of conversation I usually have had to suffer during this trip. Eventually she got a customer and left me to cater to him. The guy worked in the village and he wanted to get his Airtel prepaid topped up by Rs. 50. She informed him that the recharge cards hadn’t arrived from Sangla yet and that he needed to come back in the evening to get a recharge. I, however, had an idea.

My plan was to use GPRS and my bank account to get his phone recharged online and save the day. I asked him for his number and he gave me a phone number 11 digits long. I tried to explain to him that a phone number was only 10 digits long but he was quite confidently emphatic in stating that he had the right number and it was indeed 11 digits long. The shopkeeper’s daughter then fired off some choice Tibetan at him and he conceded that he might have written down the number incorrectly. We tried several permutations and combinations of the number before we lost our patience. She then called up the household the guy worked at and asked for the number and got the right one. It took 10 minutes more to complete the task after the number was gotten and I managed to save the day, albeit not as gracefully as I wanted to.

Mr. Kumar’s daughter then locked up the shop and left to have lunch, leaving me alone up front. I cranked up the music on my Ipod and then waited for the bus to Chitkul. During my wait, a private bus to Lippa showed up and I mentally made a note to take this bus to Peo tomorrow. At about 1:30 the bus to Chitkul finally arrived and I boarded it and paid the conductor Rs.11 for a ticket. After three days of walking, taking a bus felt very odd. The bus was filled with the locals, a local drunk, and also a middle-aged tourist who seemed to be traveling alone. I thought about maybe talking to him, but eventually decided not to. I spent my trip looking out the window and at the wonderful road leading up to Chitkul. I saw the pine forests at Mastrang and I felt really bad that I didn’t walk. Walking today, however, would have meant a step closer to malignant melanoma since the sun was shining on full blast. I made my peace with it and eagerly waited for Chitkul.

The bus arrived at Chitkul shortly afterwards and dropped us off at the entrance. The sun was still shining brightly when I got off and I scampered for the shade. However, this was only a symbolic act on my behalf since it was almost impossible to find shade anywhere in the village. The full and bright sun shone down fiercely and there was no escaping it. I realized there was no point in trying to hide and felt that the best thing to do would be to finish up as quickly as possible and take refuge at the shelter in the bus stand. I sought out the temple first and was shown a way into the village. When I reached the temple, I found out that it was being renovated and was for all intents and purposes, not operational. From what I could see, though, it was built in the exact same style of the Dev Mandir and Shamsher Mandir I had been to. It was a slight let down.

Then I took the trail leading up to the Nagasthi check point and had gone merely a few hundred meters when the sky suddenly changed and dark clouds began to converge. I witnessed firsthand the bipolarity of the weather that I had heard of before. In the next few minutes the temperature dropped by several degrees and extremely chilly winds began to blow. It also started to drizzle slightly and I turned back immediately to get to the safety of the bus shelter. I sought refuge there and waited the rain out. I love the sight of inclement weather anywhere and here in the mountains it was even more breathtaking. When the rain stopped it was already 3:00 P.M and the bus back to Rakcham was due any minute. I limited my explorations to a few hundred meters from the bus stop and took some pictures of the valley and the mountains. The views were spectacular and it was supposedly the last village of India, but to me, it wasn’t really that interesting or exciting.

Having suffered the wrath of the cold weather for an hour and a half I desperately wanted to go back to Rakcham to the safety of my room. I was elated to see the bus come in at 3:45 P.M and ran to board it. It was only me and another shady looking guy that boarded and we left Chitkul at 3:55 P.M. On the way back I was again reminded of how beautiful the road was and I was kicking myself for not being able to do the walk. I guess I’ll just have something left to do when I come back at a later time. On the way a delivery truck materialized in the middle of the road and the bus had to reverse back quite a long way to let the truck pass. I marveled at the skill of the driver who just kept on going without as much as a blink. After the truck passed we crossed Mastrang once again and reached Rakcham a little while later.

As I got off I observed a group of 4 British tourists who were doing the usual foreign tourist things; taking pictures of everything, trying to use sign language to communicate with the locals, and talking in loud voices. I have nothing against such things, they were only having fun and I was glad to see a group of foreigners in Rakcham. The ones that I had seen up until now were mostly in Sangla and Chitkul; I was glad that Rakcham was getting a little piece of the action too. I went back to the home, rested for a while, and then left on a short stroll in the evening.

As I stepped out of the house, it hit me for the first time that I was going to be leaving Rakcham tomorrow. I felt incredibly bad at the realization and walked slowly down the road of the village that had been my home for the past four days. I walked to the bank of the river and stood for a while just gazing at the flowing water. It was a little ridiculous to realize how attached I had become to a place that had none of my friends or family. But something about staying here and the prospect of leaving that something behind tugged at my heart and I made my way back deep in thought. When I came back to the house, I heard the temple bells ringing and I realized that I hadn’t yet visited a single temple when it was open for worship. I quickly put on my slippers and ran to the Shamsher Dev temple.

Two village youths were opening up the temple and as soon as they saw me they asked me what I was doing there. I was a little taken aback by this as it was a complete 180 from the hospitality that had been prevalent in Rakcham. I told them that I was just there to see the temple and that I’d be out of their way. One of the guys told me that the temple was a local deity and that outsiders weren’t allowed. That hit me very hard. I thanked him and started walking out of the temple. The fact that I was an outsider was very obvious to me and not new knowledge but hearing it said in that way was a little hard to digest for some reason. For me, it just laid the truth bare, that I was a visitor desperate and dissatisfied with his life looking for some place to call home and that is why I felt so bad leaving. It was a hard realization, but I’ll live.

I came back to the house again and was served a grand meal (in honor of my departure tomorrow, I’m guessing). Tomorrow I leave for Kalpa with a heavy heart and fond memories. I’m going to miss Rakcham and I’ll definitely be back. Until tomorrow then comrades, cheers!