Listening to The Smashing Pumpkins at night puts one in that delicately dangerous mood, that sees me more often than not, head to Turquoise Cottage at Adhchini, the only place where anything seems to be possible.( Much like last monsoon where a bunch of us went to TC, and landed up at Renuka Lake in Himachal the next morning, but more on that later)

Ava Ador interlude in my head, woke up, and sighed, this TC business is something I’m getting too old for, further evidence being, that I woke up in my own house, and not Himachal Pradesh at the very least; (Believe me, there have been days when Goa and Manila haven’t looked very far from the smoke induced purple haze of TC’s crowded bar on a Friday/Saturday night) cue to call the partners in crime.

Delayed Reactions

The alcohol was still in the system, and the omelet tasted as if the batter were mixed with vodka, luckily Saturdays are something that the boss has reconciled with as not being working days even though the company does. Proof that people in regional offices don’t work; twenty minutes later the reaction to Uday’s poser ‘Shall we or shall we not skedaddle’ the night earlier, came around to what it usually is any night at TC, ‘Yes! Oh Yes’. Save us, Ava Ador, from the mundanely monotonous conundrum that one life in this urban jail has become.

Two hours in the Delhi traffic notwithstanding, the call of the mountains was too good to resist, and as I’m the persuader, excuse-maker, negotiator with the boss all rolled-in-one, the first call was to Nitin, and persuaded him to ditch his all-too-often plan of going to Karol Bagh to get his bike fixed (wonder how much he’d save if he just bought a Honda instead of a Royal Enfield, but his poser thrown back at me whenever we’ve had this argument, of, ‘Would I trade my fountain pens to write with Reynolds Ball pens..’ is something that can go on ad infinitum, and there wasn’t time for that), called up Le Boss to harangue him for three days’ leave; and negotiated with Uday’s inclinations to a smaller spell on the road. (Wonder if he’s leaving the company, and therefore the trio, why does he bother? )

Further proof that Smashing Pumpkins is not the best way to spend lonely nights; just to avoid suicidal tendencies like 500 km road trips in the middle of the heaviest work load we’ve seen in the last, (hell, ever!) two years, was that we were up for the trip even though it meant leaving midday. (Well, you have to do it to learn the contextual self-deprecating language that you find this punctuated with, well worth it, and believe me.)

Side note on reviewing a place we had lunch at – Hotel Gold in Panipat, the less I write the better, enough said. Don’t.

Driven

On the highway, the car’s a tad underpowered at the top end to go drag racing with a Fortuner, and I was happy to challenge and outmuscle smaller fry like the usual convoy of i10s and WagonRs and the occasional sister i20. Laying down markers is very important when one wants to do a 500 odd km road trip in two very huge chunks. My markers usually are fast cars, or fast drivers, and they help stretches of 40-50 km at a time go by, without you noticing the absence of mountains, and the remarkable similarity

of all the towns en route to the ghettos of East and West Delhi. Maybe the planners and settlers in the capital took their cues from the Wizard of Oz after all, and are preparing for the second coming of the witches. Little do they know, that they’re both to the East, one in Kolkata and the other in Noida (cue : I loathe the Memorial, don’t you?)

The I 20 is a fantastic car to drive on the highway, despite professional reviewers telling you it’s underpowered. The interiors are comfy enough to take the itch out of a 200 km straight drive-at-a-stretch, the music system is fantastic, and leg room ample. (I’m driving the i20 Sportz petrol 1.2, for feedback’s sake) The three of us, had a lot of room to stow away our gear and two and a half grand’s worth of booze, which when bought from Chandigarh is a lot, a lot, a LOT!!! (Tip : Buy Booze at Chandigarh, it’s way cheaper

Places within Places

Driving drunk in the mountains at night is a crazy idea at the very least, especially when the driver is in bad spirits, (all puns intended) having dined on some ridiculously expensive Maggi (Rs 45/- for one, anyone? Tip : Please carry cup noodles, hot water is only Rs 10/- per mug) but the excellent road conditions between Chandigarh and Sunder Nagar (place we crashed at night; the sensible thing would’ve been to stop over at SwarGhat or Chandigarh itself, but when your engine’s running on Corona and Bacardi, no distance is too far, no tower too high) took the sting out of the stretch. Stayed at this decent place called The Polo Regency, hot water, extra bed and tea in the morning for 1600 bucks; just to give out a fair idea of the standard, a room in the property had it been in Delhi would’ve been for 2200 bucks thereabouts. (Tip : Haggling helps, and we were able to wangle out a deal to avoid taxes. Also, sleeping in the car, which was Uday’s original idea, is a very bad idea – temperatures even now drop to 10 degrees or so) Advance booking wasn’t done, though we did call about two hours in advance.

The drive from Sunder Nagar to Bhunter is brilliant to say the least; and Nitin was spot-on in insisting that we stop over at Sunder Nagar for the night, and not push onward at night. (This enabled us to not waste the next day wasted from the ardor of the trip, notwithstanding the insanity that it would’ve been) The river Beas is a delightful companion all along, and in the arid season too, we were treated to some cute waterfalls amidst swaying palms (all coconut-like trees are by default palms for blokes) and antique ropeways as means to sling across necessities to hutments and temples across. A must-do on this stretch is to step onto at least one of the bridges for foot traffic slung across the river, and just be, nothing more, nothing less. We did the one about 13 km out from Pandoh and were treated to some delightful scenes of a season’s last sighting of snow-clad peaks from this area, and the contrast of the pristine green-blue water underneath. In those five minutes or fifty, (we lost count) the baggage of an ur-bane existence was taken by the put-putting desi motorboat, (that we watched for what seemed hours at end) and taken away, way downstream, whence they came from.

The Road Less Travelled

From Bhunter, travelers have the option of taking up the route to Manali/Kullu, or the road less travelled, (and hence poorly maintained) to Kasol, a tiny hamlet compared to the bustling centers of tourism that the afore-mentioned two have become. This stretch of about 30 odd km took us the about an hour and a half with some really poor stretches en route. But the last 5 km make the decision worthwhile, and despite some very audible groans from my heart, when my pristine just-serviced car was subjected to the torturous terrain, the drive and the 500 km before it, were suddenly very very worthwhile.

We checked in at Alpine Guest House, a property bang on the riverside, with natural hydrotherapy (the water must’ve been 5 degrees!) and an authentic Israeli menu! The food took some time coming, and the intervening time was spent on touristy things like pictures (no, not for Facebook – but, for our senile days, when our bones have rotten and all we have are our precious memories :P ) and taking in the absence of anything man-made at all. At lunch, the pizza was passable, the pasta almost, and the noodles not – Nitin blamed it on the unavailability of the chefs that come in to Kasol during peak season, buoyed by the promise of dollars and drugs, even today, being accosted by half a dozen ‘vendors’ wasn’t something that surprised us. The rooms are sparse, well maintained (keeping in mind the havoc that is wreaked on the rooms by some very party-centric, often single-agenda travelers to Malana and thereabouts) and a steal for five hundred bucks. There are ‘suites’ on the higher floors with attached balconies and lovely views of the river, with TV and cable, and two or more attached rooms. These would be available at a thousand bucks, which for a party of six-seven close knitted friends would be a getaway for anything over a week, at prices that you’d pay for a decent night out in Delhi.

A word on the car’s performance, Brillant The selection of music in the morning for the drive was a mix of John Mayer, Jack Johnson, Twilight soundtracks ( the movie and the books reek of adolescent dream sub-letting, but the music is bloody good) and well, you get the picture; after all, every moving image needs a soundtrack to fill the silence with, lest the silence be mistaken for something more abstract a concept than simple, distilled happiness. And peace within.

The After Party

In a fairly touristy place, one would have a set list of things to do, places to visit and so and so forth, which to me is the very antithesis of a vacation. Ideally, one would wake up and sleep whenever one chooses to, and this is what we intended to do at Kasol, when we started walking up after dark, to find an establishment that would accept us Indians in this center for unabashed preference for Israeli and other European fine folk, as customers of course. Nothing like racism here

Our walk was hijacked by the sounds of fairly loud beats at a distance, and the curious folk we are, (but shouldn’t be, in a dark, alien place – children please don’t try this, heck NO ONE try this) walked/trekked

up to this clearing which is s designated camping site to find as modern as you can find, sound equipment in a clearing roughly 80 feet wide, and a party in full swing. However, by the looks of it, we’d arrived just a tad late, as the heavens had opened up, and a more than generous drizzle had scuttled the plans for (by the looks of it) an all-nighter. Damn.

We ended up at the Evergreen Café which is at the town center; you can’t miss it really, it is a little hamlet with only one street, and ordered the French Onion soup, with a penne in a red sauce on the side, both were made really well, and the palate was decidedly European; none of the spice in the pasta that one would normally get in any other place in Delhi, or the overkill of pepper in the soup. All for the princely sum of two hundred bucks! With relish and gusto we dug in. A word about the music in the café, good trance and electronic music interspersed with golden oldies as The Doors made for a fine selection, something the café owners all across the country should travel to this particular place to take note of, and hopefully replicate.

With the only other choice of entertainment washed away, we had to move back to the room, and steel ourselves for a longish debate on what movie to watch, out of the roughly hundred or so that Nitin was carrying around. We settled for ‘The Butterfly Effect’. To me, it is still an under-rated cult classic, and should be above the realm of ratings and reviews. About the movie itself, sci-fi, drama and thriller aficionados are better off having watched it; and I’d consider even couples to watch it together, to connect on a higher plane of purpose and destiny, and our total lack of control over the latter, but not the former, and in doing so, rise (if only for a few hours) above the humdrum conundrums of daily living, and realize how many infinite things have come together for you to have the other in your life, and how, if for a few quirks of fate, (indeed, a few butterfly wing-beats here and there) you might have not had him/her at all. See it, and believe it, you’re lucky, very lucky.

Of Parting and Partying

An office by the riverside, another addendum to the wish-list; mornings are so tranquil here, the river seems to mirror the white noise of your confused urban brain, as it over-compensates for the lack of the rush hour ride, and the cacophony of meaningless existence. The laptop almost seemed criminal.

Discovered joints and muscles long forgotten on the trail by the river, skipping across stones, skipping stones – art condemned to the attic of childish delight and memories. With the green-blue water as catalyst, we discovered treasures that we had looked at for months, but not seen. An idyllic existence, joys of playing with mud and sand, and the sky; this part of the trip I recommend for all, whatever state of being – physical or mental. What else do I write about pictures that have to be beheld, and not read about; lest the brain override tomorrow, from a cross referenced database of pictorial clichés, what your senses should explore, and you should learn for yourself.

Me? I dug channels in the mud, and crossed bridges of doubt over turbulent waters of suppositions that we wall ourselves within.

Late night saw us enjoy the riverside with a table set out, and a solitary candle we’d managed to procure from the town centre. All the clichéd jokes of brotherly ‘love’ aside, it was beautiful. And a bottle of

Bacardi only added to the revelry, and long after everyone else had retired, our bawdy songs could be heard over the river’s gentle admonishment.

We went back to the restaurant at Deep Forest early morning, and befitting Uday’s presence, (in any party involving food) promptly ordered every item on the menu; the wait as well as the service (given the solitary cook at the establishment) was leisurely, and the views of the town below, and the peaks up high, were enough to keep the spirits and the appetite up, and the food did not disappoint – the pizza, pasta and eggs were spot on, and so was the cold coffee. Recommend the latter highly. Please don’t be overzealous though, and do what Uday did – order Banana Nutella pancakes; all you’ll be served is a parantha smeared with Nutella and banana slices inside, heated slightly. Barring anomalies of adventurous ordering, one would be good, anywhere in Kasol. Meals have cost us just under seven hundred bucks between three healthy appetites, (please note that liquor isn’t served anywhere) and the room was five hundred bucks with the extra bed per night!

And we drove out, having said our prolonged goodbyes.