Vashisht Village and Freedom

I made the next morning a late one, and walked out of my hotel around 10 AM to make the 3 Km uphill hike to the village of Vashisht. I'm walking everywhere and in the rarified mountain air, it's taking its toll, but I don't mind huffing and puffing my way along in air this fresh. You couldn't pay me to take one of those kerosene-doped rickshaws.

The village was supposedly founded by Vashisht Muni. Considering that he was Ramchandra Bhagwan's teacher in Treta Yuga, this town is pretty old.

The village itself is very quaint but unfortunately has been tainted by tourism. It's filled with cheap guesthouses and cheap dhabas (food stalls). I tired of the town quickly and kept moving uphill. Eventually, I reached the backside of Vashisht and as I walked through the maze of backstreets, I began to get the "What are you doing all the way back here?" looks from the residents. I ended up on a woodland trail and on a whim, decided to see where it led. I found a babbling brook and followed it up about 1.5 km, above all the houses and steppe farms. I sat there for an hour on a small stone slab that had been made into a crossing over the brook but hadn't been walked on in years, judging by the plant growth. I had an amazing feeling of freedom sitting there by myself. I could follow whichever path my mind fancied, and this far away from the town, there wasn't anyone to harass me to buy Kullu shawls - hell there wasn't anyone period. But I wasn't lonely - not in the least. Just peaceful. Feeling thirsty, I dipped my hands into the cold water for a drink. It was crystal clear moutain water. Cold and tasteless - pure snowmelt - just like water should be. I emptied my bottle of mineral water and filled up with the good stuff. This water was so delicious I was willing to pay whatever gastrointestinal price necessary to enjoy it. I suspected though, that there wouldn't be any.

As I trekked back downhill alongside the brook, I came across the first signs of civilization again - a trashheap dumped down into the brook gully. I'm guessing the water there charges a GI fee. It makes me sad that even the most beautiful parts of India are trashed by the locals themselves.

It makes me wonder. India needs the economic boon that tourism can give, but I am not entirely certain this country is ready for a tourist rush. The cheat-first-ask-questions-later attitude of the touts, rickshawwallas and the wannabe-priests combined with the dump-your-trash-wherever attitude of just about everyone except the tourists makes India a place that needs a change of heart before it reaches for the wallets of tourists. Otherwise they will come in droves once, and never come back. In all fairness, every country has this problem, but the economic disparities in India make it so in-your-face here that one has to make an effort to see the amazing beauty and rich culture that lays beneath it.

As I walked back through the town I stopped to eat at Chauhan's dhaba - and had one of the tastiest Malai Koftas EVER. Steaming hot. Perfectly spiced. Scrumptious. And filling. I then went for darshan in the town center's two temples, one dedicated to Rama and one to Vashisht Muni himself. The murtis in Rama's mandir are more classical, but the Vashisht murti is of the older stone-slab-relief design. It's really interesting to see the merging to philosophical lines of thought in practice in India. In Rama's mandir, the main sanctum has Rama, Lakshman, and Sita, but Hanuman is outside alongside a shivaling. Philosophically, the Vaishnavite tradition which includes Hanuman is very different than the Shaivite tradition - the Shankaracharyas and the Gurus will debate that to no end. My guess is that to the lay person, they are all just God. If they can't read the road signs, what can be said of the scriptures?

More on the practice of Hinduism in India later. Vashisht got boring by 4 PM and I turned in early back to Manali. I walked alot. Like 10 Km a day. Why is my potbelly still there?