Tabo: Day Two (18/05/11)

Tabo: Day Two (18/05/11)

After an extremely restful night of sleep, I woke up feeling completely refreshed. I walked out to the front of the hotel, which also served as its restaurant, and ordered some milk tea and an egg parantha. After finishing my princely breakfast I came back to the room and finished up some pending trip report work and then read some Don Quixote. The sun was shining down brightly and I didn’t want to risk walking out, sunscreen or not. Over the past few days some semblance of normalcy had returned to my face and children had stopped running from me in the streets; I wanted to keep it that way. I also talked to the guy managing the hotel and he told me that at about 1:30 P.M everyday thick cloud cover engulfed the area and cut off the sun for the rest of the day. Therefore I resolved to stay put until then.

At about 1:15 P.M my hunger pangs elevated to an unmanageable level and I decided to walk around town for a bit to see where I could find a decent meal. After walking around for a while I entered one of the seemingly countless ‘dhabas’ open here and ordered half a plate of egg chowmein. It cost Rs. 40 but it tasted good and I was happy. My hunger sated, I set off in the direction of the monastery and saw a cute dog in my path. I had an unopened pack of 50-50 biscuits in my bag that I had bought in Speelo and I wanted to feed him with them. He was extremely shy and would not come up to me to take the biscuits. I had to set them down and walk away before he even considered approaching them. He gobbled them in a hurry though and set off on his merry way. I played biscuit-man to a couple of more dogs before I finally reached the monastery.

The Tabo Monastery, according to legends, was built in one night by the Gods. The Stupa outside of the monastery is beautifully colorful and indicates the presence of a sacred place. Even those who know absolutely nothing of Buddhism (me) will appreciate the Stupa and the prayer wheels running on all four sides of it. I entered the monastery and walked around for a bit and photographed the dusty buildings. The other temples were all closed and after exploring a bit I saw a monk leading a group into the sanctum and I hastily took off my shoes and followed them. A sign outside strictly prohibited photography and I really struggled with the temptation once inside.

As soon as you enter and get used to the darkness you see the paintings on the walls of the Mahakala Chakra. They are awe inspiring and conjure up radiant images in one’s mind. I spent some time trying to make out all the paintings and then followed the group and the monk into the sanctum. The sanctum was called ‘The Temple of Enlightened Gods’ and had the idols of many of their Gods on all the four walls surrounding the Buddha (I’m guessing) and there were pictures of the Dalai Lama as well. At this point the monk was called out on some matter and I had to really struggle with my conscience about not taking pictures. In the end I decided to take integrity’s side and just settled for walking around and marveling at the idols. The whole setting is so powerful and ancient that it almost seems like a scene of ‘Avatar’ (The cartoon, not the movie). No words could ever do the sanctum justice and it is worth making a trip to Tabo to just see the monastery. On the way out the monk showed us some souvenirs on offer, postcards for Rs. 200, a T-shirt for Rs. 350, and a book about the monastery’s history for Rs. 350.

They seemed a little expensive but the monk told me that the proceeds from the sales directly went to a school that the monastery ran. I didn’t really need any of the items so I thanked the monk, left the monastery, and started walking in the direction of Tabo Bridge. My plan was to see if I could find some easy trails that I could scale to get better views of the mountains and the entire village. I had hardly walked out of the main entrance when a slight drizzle started. I attributed it to the bipolarity of the weather and expected the drizzle to stop soon. Soon the winds began to cause mini dust storms and the rain started to come down so I hastily beat a retreat back to the hotel. I came back to the restaurant to find a hippy looking guy and his girlfriend (as I came to find out later) having beer.

I deduced that they were French when they talked and on seeing me come in they offered me beer which I politely refused. The guy seemed to be one of those euphoric loving-life sorts while the girl was more grounded and a little quieter. They had the crappy carom board out and they were playing a game whilst engaging in French banter. We were all joined a little later by a group of three kids who seemed extremely curious about the foreigners and stood watching them play. The foreigners called them in to play with them and soon the kids had taken over the game while being cheered on by the guy and the girl. Among them was the cutest and the shyest girl I have ever seen in my life; her name was Anjali.

The name seemed familiar to me and I asked the manager who she was and he told me that she was the daughter of a woman who ran a dhaba of the same name. I remembered walking past Anjali’s Dhaba in the town and turned my gaze back to the lovely little three year old girl. She was extremely reticent and would not meet anybody’s gaze or reply to them. Her brother was extremely boisterous and got along great with the foreigners while she just stood on the side looking at everything. I went up to her and tried talking, but she still remained resolute and wouldn’t say a word. I asked her brother if she ever talked and he replied that she didn’t shut up at home. I spent some time trying to coax her into talking but it seemed a fruitless enterprise and I was most disappointed. I let her be and sat some distance away and watched the carom game going on.

Hardly a few minutes passed and I found the cute little thing walking apprehensively over to me and I sat still not wanting to startle her away. She came over and first started playing with my jacket and then pulling my jeans absent-mindedly, all the time inching closer. I bent down, held her and then kissed her on her forehead and she abruptly hugged me. The happiness you get when you gain an innocent child’s trust cannot be rivaled by a thousand monastery sanctums or the most beautiful landscapes on the planet. A child’s affection and trust are pure and untainted and to be worthy of either or both is a privilege in itself. I picked her up and walked around for a bit and she buried her head into my shoulder and slept. Too soon, though, it was time for her to go and I felt incredibly bad letting her go off with her brother.

After she left I spoke to the manager about getting some Chang (a local alcohol brewed from grain) and he told me that he’d take me along in the evening and we could buy some. This left us alone with the Frenchman and soon we got to talking. I found out that he and his girlfriend had been in India for four months now and they planned to go to Nepal next to stay another four months. He told me about all the places that he’d been and was of the opinion that Spiti was the last place left in India with a significant amount of natural beauty and expressed pain and displeasure at the Hydro-Electric projects cropping up all over the place. He couldn’t fathom in his wildest dreams why there was need for a 400 MW power plant in Karcham and was extremely indignant about the whole thing. We swapped some opinions and expressed hope that Spiti would remain fairly untouched. His girlfriend joined us then and the conversation fizzled out and the manager suggested that we go and buy the Chang.

We went to the clandestine place where this beverage was manufactured and the guy told me to hang back and wait while he collected the Chang. It was Rs. 30 a bottle (One liter) and we bought three bottles and went back to the hotel. We waited till nightfall just to give the guys time to finish up with their hotel management duties. Somewhere during this time the two foreigners also came along and I asked them to join us. The guy, who apparently was a great lover of alcohol, accepted with great gusto and all of settled down to drink. The Chang was mostly like Neera except that it was a little bitterer. The French guy had a couple of glasses and his girlfriend decided that it was time for both of them to retire. After they left, it was a nice session of drinking with the two hotel guys and finally I found out that their names were Sonu and Manoj. We reflected on how odd it was that Indian tradition permitted inquiries about everything else before names are even considered. It was late and the guys needed to wake up early so I left them and all of us slept.