A preamble to the logic of microscopic posts
This is the first of a series of short posts about my trip to McLeod Ganj and Dharamshala in Kangra. I don’t know why I have split the trip experience into microscopic segments, but it is entirely possible that I woke up at 3 am one day and decided on this strange approach. Also, I must emphasize that I am not describing my trip in any sort of chronological order because I do not intend to explore the photos’ EXIF data and then sort the images by date and time.
Instead, I'll make these microscopic posts to share experiences, rather than a long, boring chronology. And, unlike our Home Minister, I don’t need people to ‘understand the chronology’!
Minimal research helps you mimic water.
We had done no research before making this trip. Zero. Nothing. So when we arrived, we had no clue where to explore. Our hotel receptionist became our guide. While this approach may appear bizarre to the nerdy explorers who also populate this world, I am happy with my method for two reasons. One, while I generally do basic research and make a vague plan, I like to keep gaps in my itinerary because it helps me chop and change whenever I feel the need. Flexibility is vital to my peace of mind when I travel.
“Be like water.” That is Bruce Lee’s wise dictum.
The second reason is that local people often give you incredible insights that you will not get from Google or any LLM search. It helps to engage with people and show genuine curiosity about their hometowns and culture.
To the Bhagsu Falls.
Our hotel receptionist advised us to visit Bhagsu Falls, also called Bhagsunag Falls. The ‘nag’ suffix in Bhagsunag means ‘cobra,’ which suggests the place or temple is associated with Shiva. Any depiction of Shiva has him sitting in meditation, with cobras coiled around his neck. Even when we see him depicted as a lingam, an astute observer will notice the cobra curled around the lingam. I read that the lingam and yoni depiction of Shiva disgusted the prudish English and Europeans who floated in the subcontinent those days.
I don’t remember whether we crossed the gate to the 1st Gorkha Regiment headquarters while entering McLeod Ganj, or at the entrance to McLeod Ganj en route to the waterfall.
At Bhagsu Falls, with a smoking pipe.
A temple dedicated to Shiva stands at the falls, hence the name Bhagsunag. The falls are in the village of Bhagsu, about 2 kilometers from the town square. We could have walked, but my friend refused. In any case, we had hired a car for the day. After crashing that old lady’s water pipe, I had no intention of repeating the experience, and hinted that a taxi driver was welcome to try his hand at creating mayhem.
We arrived late in the afternoon, so I didn't have time to climb all the way up. My friend chose to sit on a bench outside the hillside where the water cascaded and transformed into a mountain river. If my memory serves me well, he sat at a chai stall near the temple.
I walked around the river stream. The actual waterfall was about a kilometer uphill from where I stood, and I walked halfway up before I noticed the sun starting to accelerate on its path behind the horizon. Since the pathway was rocky and I didn't have a torch, I decided not to follow the example of the fools who charge into zones where angels fear to tread.
I carried my tripod and enjoyed balancing its legs on the rocks while photographing the water dancing around them on its way downhill. The sunlight was beautiful, lighting the foliage on the hills and the little temple nestled amongst the trees and grass.
Tidy littering!
Those who live in the hills are tidy folk. Even when they litter, they place their garbage neatly on the rocks, as you can see from this bottle some lazy clown had placed on a rock. I photographed the bottle before picking it up and depositing it in the garbage bin of that chai stall you see in one of the photos.
Mostly, I focused on the light and the clean air, which was beautiful. If I could have packed some of that air into a container to take back to the polluted environs of Delhi, I would have. Unfortunately, you can’t, but I wager that some obnoxious businessperson will try to package air and sell it at exorbitant prices to those who live in polluted environments. We already get oxygen canisters, which we carry when we travel up to high altitudes. It will be a small step toward expanding this niche market into a mass-market product driven by greedy capitalists.
Dusk
The sun finally went down, and I photographed a building silhouetted against the setting sun before marching off to meet my friend, who sat contentedly smoking a huge pipe and drinking chai. A plate of something tasty but unhealthy sat on the table next to him, as he invited me to join him. Sitting there made him feel cold, and he was irritated by my long absence. I had been walking up and down and was pleased with myself. His irritation increased when I ordered chai for myself – I felt I had earned it, and he was sitting there dreaming of a nice blanket.
Life can be tough sometimes!
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