Leaving Khajjiar in its serene slumber we reached Jammu
We didn’t really leave Khajjiar till we left Khajji
Nag temple behind. The first sighting of Pir Panjal snow range created a pulse
of excitement in both of us Tukai and me, no doubt about it. The excitement
remained with us. We knew beforehand that snow range could be seen from
Khajjiar in clear days. As our lake ground was walled off by tall trees, perhaps
snow range sighting won’t have been possible from there at all. But now we were
with the snow view. My friend assured us that it will remain with us till Jyot.
That made us happy. Always on the lookout for a still better view, we had to
make my friend stop the car time to time.
Though the elevation
of the snow range was low and it was far away at the horizon, one always wished to bring the
desired object nearer.
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| Inviting snow |
The range didn't have very high peaks; on an average altitude of the peaks being 21000 feet.
In Himalayan scale that is not respectably high at all. But the range had its
strengths. It maintained kind of unbroken wall all along the northwest to
southeast horizon.
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| Long jagged white capped wall |
I had
seen much more majestic snow views of Himalayan peaks elsewhere in the past. But here the lack of
apparent grandeur of the snow range was compensated by the dark green rolling
hills and the tall trees in the foreground. There was a trace of primitivity
and wilderness in the environment that appealed to me. Practically no traffic
on the road enhanced this feeling.
 |
| Lonely road engulfed in green |
The empty
road lay still like a tape. Rising from the ravine down below tall trees touched
and enfolded it; all healthy deodars with dense foliage—near Khajjiar the trees
retained health and radiated verdant green.
 |
| Verdant green |
The road was a beauty. It was nearly deserted, rising
and falling at steep gradients on occasions. While the small car banked, the
green hillsides also rolled over—mile after mile, with us not talking at
all—just drinking in the moving scene. It was pleasure for us, though not for
my friend—driving was long and strenuous on this road.
Later
I found the distance from Khajjiar to Jyot shown as 18 kms. Perhaps my friend
had taken a different route for showing us his beautiful Himachal hills as long
as possible, for, we were told, after Jyot it would be only downhill to the plains.
It took us, including frequent halts, not less than three hours to reach Jyot.
All along the way, Pir
Panjal range didn’t leave us. After a bend it would suddenly show itself
through the trees, so beautiful!
 |
| Glaring white snow peaks through tall green trees |
And like small children we repeatedly would try to
capture its beauty and remain ever insatiated.
Gradually
the trees thinned, wide patches showed up on the faces of the hills, and the
ambiance turned drab and bare.
The brightly colored
dresses of the village women walking from a village nearby made a stark
contrast to the drab brown bare earth of the hills.
 |
| Himachali women on the way home |
Perhaps they would go down the faintly visible
zigzagging track to their village in the valley below. Sparse traffic go by
this road. Perhaps one or two buses ply throughout the day picking up waiting
passengers all along the way.
As
I watched the sloping roof houses on the hillsides for some time, it occurred
to me from what I had seen of these village houses—all looked very new and
clean. These were not really like any other poorer village in our country.
At a point on the
road while looking through the window to the valley on the left, I requested my
friend to stop the car again. From right to left the hillsides were dotted with
sprinklings of small hut-like houses all with apparently brand new shining
roofs.
 |
| Hillside dotted with shining tin roofs |
When I
looked nearer, it looked not at all like a conventional village to me. The terraced fields
were neatly laid in gentle steps. A steel colored tall power tower stood
proud but incongruous amidst the greens. Most of the houses had shining new
tin roofs—perhaps it snowed in these parts during winter and every year after
winter they needed to repair the roofs.
 |
| A neat Himachal village |
As I
looked left I found all hillsides with such shining dots. This seemed to be a
particularly favorable place and men had chosen their strips of ground to set
up homes and cultivated terraced lands across the gently sloping fertile hillsides.
 |
| Villages spread all over the hillsides in the valley |
What surprised me was the apparent sufficiency and
affluence of the villages. I voiced the question to my friend. What he told me
had been the most significant piece of information that I had absorbed during
our whole trip. He told us with a satisfied smile, “All Himachal villages have
three basic things—drinking water, electricity and road.”
I looked at the valley and expressed my wish, “It seems nice
and peaceful. With the basic amenities available,” I paused, not to shock my
friend all of a sudden, “Can I build a small house here and settle down after
my retirement?” He looked at me with smile on his face and eyes, “No, you can’t
do that. No outsider is allowed to purchase land in Himachal. But why would you
build another house? I have nearly finished my own house just under the shadows
of Dhauladhar in Dharamsala. I will keep a room permanently assigned for you to
come any time you wish. That’s a standing offer.”
I knew him to be a serious person and it would certainly be a
pleasure to stay with him in Dharamsala. I told him so. No doubt about it. But
would I ever? I knew myself. There had rarely been any person with such high inertia
around!
“We have nearly reached Jyot,” announced my friend. After a
turn, a few buildings appeared by the side of the road—only a few, not many. Parking
the car my friend went into a hotel in search of food. Our food preferences
taken, we were free to roam around. Preparing the meal would take some time. My
friend took up a seat inside the hotel—he must have become a bit tired by now.
Tukai
went walking. I went up a flight of stairs towards the local viewpoint at the
top of a rise.
 |
| View point at the top of a rise - Jyot |
Jyot is a high point, all other places nearby looked to be
below me. Pir Panjal view was clear, unobstructed by anything. Looking down I
spotted Tukai coming back from a walk in the nearby woods.
 |
| Taking a walk in the woods |
Nice place for a walk. No pollution, lots of trees,
good open view on one side—what more would you desire!
Soon
Tukai joined me at the top. It felt good to stand on top. Specially when you’re
with one of your dear ones. Tukai posed for his photo with Pir Panjal as a
backdrop. You certainly need such pictures when you are young.
Far
ahead wisps of dirty clouds hovered above the glaring white snow crown of Pir
Panjal. Nice contrast.
 |
| Wisps of dirty clouds gathering |
Shadows fell over the white peaks. To me life of
clouds would always remain a mystery—how they suddenly take birth and how do they
vanish all of a sudden, specially in the mountains—I would never fathom!
“Come down. Food is
ready,” my friend called from the hotel. I peered down. A small white car stood
quietly. Still further down right across the road would be my friend standing at
the open door of the hotel.
 |
| Jyot view |
“Coming,”
I shouted looking down towards the hotel. This had been the highest point on
the route. It must be snowing here during winter, and the houses sprinkled all
around the hill slopes must be Jyot itself, I thought. With a last look at the
jagged white wall far ahead, I started on my way down.
 |
| Pir Panjal Himalayan range from Jyot |
After
a modest meal we decided to start for Jammu straightaway with no further delay. It
was already quite late. Though the road would continuously go down from here, the
distance to be covered was long. We would reach the plains near Pathankot; till
then moving at a fast pace won’t be possible. And Pathankot would still be at
least another eighty kms further ahead.
It
was past midday. As we moved ahead and down, our interest in the surrounding
scenic view waned; the hills became barer with ever thinning trees. It is
always a mild surprise to me when I think of how time stretches when you have
nothing interesting to focus your attention on. Boredom on the road may be
unwelcome for the passengers, but it is always an enemy to the driver of the
car. I felt my sympathy reaching out to my friend. He drove on silently.
Not long before we reached
the plains, we had to face a sudden obstacle on the road. On this stretch the
road was under repair with heavy machinery parked by the side of the road. A
veritable flowing river of lambs and goats coming up the road engulfed us. The
car couldn’t move an inch forward for some time.
 |
| River of lambs and goats |
One man
walked ahead and the other brought up the rear. We patiently waited till the
tail of the herd could be seen. As we started to move slowly through the
thinning herd, the solidly packed procession of lambs and goats passed us with
calm faces.
 |
| Packed and disciplined procession |
Looking at them I thought, if only I
could become one of them with no worries for the future, totally depending on
the two men in charge—the masters.
On
the plains evening descended, and then night fell. The car streaked ahead
through the night towards a small bubble of light, warmth, food and company—our
home in Jammu.
Far
behind up in the mountains, Khajjiar lay dreaming in the lap of its mother.
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