Heading to the hills
Although known as a part of the lesser Himalayas, the Dhauladhar range is breathtaking.
Every year, in March or April, I make my way to Kangra in Himachal Pradesh, which entails a plane ride to Chandigarh or Amritsar, (Chandigarh works out cheaper) and a car ride of five to seven hours. It is a picturesque journey through the rich green wheat fields, dotted with mustard flowers. The hills begin in a few hours and if I’m lucky, the snow peaks show themselves in snatches. Kangra is an old, historic town. Once the stronghold of Katoch Kshatriya Rajputs, the town boasted of rich temples, an impregnable fort and a bustling trade. The arts flourished, especially the fine art of miniature paintings, depicting the dalliances of gods and princes on handmade paper.
Today, the forts are a haunt for lovers seeking solitude. The temples hold their grounds, despite the ravages of earthquakes and modernisation. They offer a quiet space for the two or three remaining masters of painting from the region to continue their work in peace. A single main road runs through the town, connecting it to other parts of Himachal. Buses and trucks trundle down, leaving a cloud of dust on the wares the roadside shops have on offer: fried snacks, clothes from the plains, woollen offerings, and in season, fruits of amazing colour and taste. It is, however, the view that draws me to the place year after year. Although known as a part of the lesser Himalayas, the Dhauladhar range is breathtaking. From atop a low hill, the unbroken line of mountains, snowcapped and glistening, offers ever-changing vistas. There’s no better way to begin the day than by drawing the curtains in my hotel room and watching the sun paint the dark, sleepy shapes in pink and gold.
Kangra is also the base camp for many forays. The Vrajeshwari temple has a hoary past, and one can reach the old stone structure through a pedestrian street lined with shops selling copper bracelets and temple offerings. Further away, the Chamunda temple on the bank of a rivulet, has an ancient vermilion covered deity whose energy draws pilgrims from near and afar. One can also climb the old stone steps of the fort for some wonderful vistas. The mountains are accessible too. Broad, well-maintained roads wind their way to the tiny hill station of Dharamshala, home now to the Dalai Lama. It is not unusual to see devout Buddhists, Tibetans among them, lining the roads waiting for a glimpse of the spiritual leader. Dharamsala’s museum, with its share of artefacts and miniatures, is also worth a visit. McLeod Ganj, nine kilometres higher, is a shoppers’ paradise. In the narrow roads through the market area, the shops run by Tibetans offer jewellery, bags, idols, garments and shoes from Nepal.
Leatherware, local clothes, ceramic tea pots and cups can also be bought in the shops. Women sell momos with the accompanying chilli sauce at road corners. You can buy local chutneys to spice up meals when back home. The Dalai Lama Temple is a sacred spot. My own private adventure involves going up to Triund, 1,000 metres up from the last motorable point at Dharamkot. The narrow walking path is steep towards the end, and can be very sunny and hot, but even during summer, the nights can be quite cool. It is advisable to take a guide and book a tent. The magnificent Dhauladhar mountains are almost at touching distance, but for the deep ravines that lie in between. For the more adventurous, there are hiking treks to the snow line and para gliding camps.
The writer is a Consulting Editor with Harper Collins Publishers India and the Executive Director of Encyclomedia