Chasing the elusive Yarsa Gambu

When he was a young boy, G would allow me to follow him on Hisalu Hunts (HH as it was secretly called) up and down the then green forests of Nainital. I tried to match his pace as he walked with much enthusiasm and talked of Bumblebees and Bichu Buti. Now, twenty years later I found myself following him once again. This time the hunt was bigger and better: the multi million rupees Yarsa Gambu or Keeda Ghans.
For the uninitiated, Keeda Ghaans is a unique entity. A worm during winter, it wriggles under the snow somewhere at an altitude of 5000 meters and dies. Fungus grows on its dead body and when the snow melts out emerges the plant: a 10 cm long wriggly brown shoot easily missed by the untrained eye. It sells for Rs. 3 lacks a Kilo across the border where it is used in Tibetan medicine and in recent times to make steroids for athletes and Viagra for others.
Keeda Ghaans has brought about something of an economic revolution in the villages beyond Dharchula. Each year thousands of families climb up to the peaks of Himalaya 4000m and beyond to collect a few grams of this organic gold.
When we reached Himkhola it bore a deserted look. It was late in the afternoon and old men were immersed in a game of cards, puffing hard on their biris as they went along. Women were hard at work drying out Dhania and attending to cattle. Everyone else was out on the hunt. Pradhaan Jee was kind enough to allow us to sleep in his son’s room (now a student at Allahabad). For the evening walk we went over to the nursery run by the forest department and found out about:
Thunair (Taxus Bacata) A pine like tree that is a sure shot answer to cancer (its bark extract sells for Rs. 4 lack per gram). It is rare in the forest so the forest department is trying to grow it and spread it out to provide a source of income.
The real fun began after sunset. All men sat with a glass of Chakti: the locally brewed daroo. Uncontrolable laughter and exaggerated stories of hunting two tigers with one bullet followed.
Next morning we set off with Pradeep( Pradhan jee’s son) as the guide and Shyam with his horse(Kris) to assist our “bloated and unsustainable” luggage. Paksa, the world’s best forest dog, decided to tag along. So we set off from Himkhola village to Karangdang top: a vertical distance of 2000 meters with an almost eighty degree incline. The first few kilometres were easy and enjoyable as we followed the gadhera( stream). The climb was eased by Pradeep’s encouraging words, Shyam’s titbits( from chewing gum to mouth freshners) and Tiwari jee’s anecdotes.
The first day ended when we camped on Maidan no 2 ( Pancha Sua?)as it was close to the water source. We bonded that night with rapid fire rounds of antakshari and dance by the bon-fire. The tent G brought along was nice and cosy so we were doubly charged next morning to reach the top.
A word about relieving yourself in the open: could nirvana be any different?
The Bugyal comes when the tree line ends. Ekla-Rukh(single tree) marks this transition. It’s just grass after that, so you get to meet some interesting shepherds who live here for 4-5 months in summer. Their lives are almost as calm and serene as the mountains around them (except when the wolf comes or the sheep jump off the hill). Groups of Gamboo hunters would stop at the shepherd tent to exchange news. Everyone talked about the huge party at 5000m where most families camped. Imagination was assisted with their description of hot Jalebies being made and Chakti flowing free. There were difficulties though- rain to freeze your bones and the un-named blue flower at Nasa Marti that caused hallucination by merely looking at it.
View from Karangdang top allowed us to view two valleys and the river in between. We made a few dance-song videos and interviewed the locals on their thoughts on Yarsa Gambu. Their songs would always have memories of the beautiful girl in the village who awaits their arrival and it is these memories that give them strength. It was also interesting to note how the folk song described the actual geographical route for reaching the top and beyond.
Climbing down was sad and fast. We drank Thuner tea and chatted up about the problem of unemployment in the hills, migration and whether Gamboo hunting was a good enough alternative. It was on the ride back to Dharchula in a rickety Sumo way past sunset that my thoughts were pre-occupied with moving to Himkhola for ever. My faith in the magnanimity of the hill folks was restored . The little girl who had followed the little bigger boy had found out why they said that you can take a man out of the mountains but never mountains out of a man.

Credits:
G : now popularly known as Almora Boy (almoraboy.blogspot.com)
Tiwaree Jee: an excellent driver and an even better trekker
Shyam: Rider on the storm
Pradeep: Climbs the hills during his summer vacations but is otherwise working on his B.Ed in Allahabad
Paksa: Dog is a man’s best teacher and guide.
Special mention: The bird that eats smoke off campfires!!!

Our Last Walk: the one in which we learn lessons in rural hospitality

The luxury of college life has alas come to an end. 4.5 years in BIT were a great learning and un-learning experience for many a things. Topping my list of things that will be missed most is the early morning walk. The sakhua forest is at its best when the first rays of the sun break through the leaves and strike the dew drops on the grass. I’ve left the comfort of the bed at 5 to seek and find different things alone with these children of nature. I’ve been the wild rule breaker to run to the river for an early morning swim, the health freak braving the wild contours to digest last night’s Junglee Murg, the object of someone’s affection sought away from public eye, the solitary walker out to subdue my worries in the vastness of the landscape.
The beginning of my end had to be a morning walk. The destination was set to be the potter’s village off the national highway some 14km away. Binitha braved the cold and was my accomplice in the journey. We ran into Krishna Mausi near the bus stand. She asked us if we wished to share an auto ride with her. Too full of confidence we refused saying we had planned to walk all the way. Little did we know that our fates for the day were strangely intertwined.
The journey till the More was uneventful save our rants over having walked too much. The syrupy tea at a dhaba did some good in reviving our energy and we marched forward. A little while later we heard someone call our name. “Munia, Kahan jaat ho?”, Krishna mausi was standing on the road with a Dantoon stick hanging from one side of her mouth. She invited us to have a cup of tea with her. Someway off the highway stood her beautiful mud house. It was a typical Munda house with comb painting patterns freshly done (no later than this Diwali) on the walls.
Being the mud house freaks that we are, Binitha and I asked if we could look around. With a gesture of her hand she said “Be my guest”. The house had a kitchen, sleeping areas, area for the cattle. The coolest part of the house was the attic. It was accessed from a bamboo ladder through a hole in the ceiling. It served as a space for storing and drying grain.
We talked to various members of her family including her old mother-in-law who had dropped her bangle the day before in the field and was worried about it, her sister-in-law who was kind enough to let us into the Handia making room. The smell of fermented rice was intoxicating and our day began with a glass of this rice liquor whose function is to charge the villagers with a high dose of carbohydrates for a long day at work on the fields.
Though we had just stopped for tea, we ended up having hand pound rice, vegetable gruel, bananas, red tea and Handia in generous quantities. It was while relishing this meal that we realise the difference in the way we always greeted mausi for all these years and the way she opened up to us. Whenever she used to come to our room for cleaning we would be keen and keeping an eye, if she asked for something we would either say no or begrudgingly part with it passing a harsh comment on her directness and greed. But here she was, opening her home and heart to us without any strings attached.
I thank Krishna Mausi for all things she gave us that day (Handia making tablets especially!!!) but most of all I thank her for the humbling lesson she taught us. We talk of equality and dignity of all men but does it not get blurred in our everyday lives with unwritten laws dictating “who is to be loved and how much.” We who have plenty sit on it and grow fat bodies and small hearts and she who has little is a much bigger and better human being.