Trip Stats:
Mamleshwar - Mr. Sharma's House (summary)
Progress: 31 km
Time: 1:48 hr.
Avg. Speed: 17.9 km/hr
(altitude chart)
Bike - Mamleshwar (summary)
Progress: 31 km
Time: 1:30 hr.
Avg. Speed: 21 km/hr
(altitude chart)


Mr. Sharma's Mother







Wife #2



Up I go on a heck of a climb



Villagers almost to the temple



Mr. Sharma's turn at the water



I ask about those rollers...

Previous Entry | Next Entry

2003-05-27 - Chindi - Dhamoon Temple - Chindi (Day 42)

Mr. Sharma had called me down the night before because there was to be a ceremony in a temple that I would find interesting. As agreed, I'm up at 7:30 and off the two of us go on the mule with the first stop his house which I was very excited about visiting. Hearing him talk about his family the night before, I was very curious to see how his two wives were around each other and around him. Never having seen such a family first-hand, I was very curious about the dynamics, especially between the wives. We drove some 30 km taking us past Karsog and up into the mountains of the other side of the valley. The ride was wonderful with the mule being positively good natured in its handling and riding which took a lot of pressure out of the ride and I was able to enjoy watching the villagers wake up and start their day.

We drive down what would be best described as a "logging road" in the US - a loose dirt road and rocks covered in pine needles for about 5 km to get down to Mr. Sharma's house which appears to be an old village schoolhouse set on the side of the mountain all by itself. Walking down a stone and dirt path from the road to the house, I'm greeted by Mr. Sharma's mother as I walk into the door. The 4'5" lady who must be pushing 90 years old, greets me with this huge hug and the bud from a red flower. I assume that the family had no idea we were coming as there wasn't a phone or way the message could have come over since the night before when we decided to go, so this is just the way someone new to the house is greeted. My goodness! I am also introduced to "Wife #2" who quickly runs off into the kitchen.

Mr. Sharma shows me around the house which is filled with pictures of Mr. Sharma - mostly corporate and government functions but still fascinating as it covers most of his life (he had told me the night before he was 56). His life is so different from the culture I come from I find everything I see fascinating - married at age 11 to "Wife #1" and then married the second time at age 26 to "Wife #2" who shares the same room and bed with the other two. Each wife has children and they raise the 7 children as a single group. Mr. Sharma has managed 11 hotels so far for the Himachal chain and the Chindi hotel seems to be the closest to his "home". Even so, he's able to return home only once a month due to obligations at the hotel and lack of a vehicle. The practicalities of this arrangement leaves me with a bunch of questions which unfortunately I don't have the language to ask, and probably best not to anyway. I do notice the two wives are quite affectionate to each other and I get the feeling they are very much like sisters, or perhaps an old married couple.

I get a bit of a reminder that there are still sensitivities just below the surface when we go into the kitchen with its earthen stove & fire. Wife #2 was sitting in light reflected from a window and I start clicking away at the shutter. Once I get to the 3rd frame, Mr. Sharma gives me a quick nudge to make sure I take some pictures of Wife #1 who was in the corner in the shadows, but I got the hint and did my best to make sure things were evenly balanced from then on.

We ate breakfast on the floor, with our hands and bread to soak up the paste of ...well, something. I have no idea what the heck I was eating though I did identify potatoes, the rest was mystery. I still haven't gotten used to simply using my fingers to pick up the paste and kept using the bread which made me much slower then Mr. Sharma - the women were not eating. The kitchen was packed with seemingly millions of flies, which would land on Mr. Sharma's mother sitting next to me by the hundreds as she didn't bother to swat them away. As it turns out, I was the only one even bothering to wave them off me, the others just accepting their presence on the plates, on the skin, in the hair and on every surface in the kitchen. In truth this I found disgusting but there wasn't a polite way to deal with the problem. I assume that the situation follows from the Hindu aversion to harming any living thing, so even waving the flies away was probably a no-no, though I considered it a fair compromise from what I really felt like doing which was going in there with a flame-thrower and incinerating the nasty little beasts. Sitting in a cloud of the flies and trying to eat was unpleasant to say the least but the good humor of the company did keep things light.

One of Mr. Sharma's daughters and a daughter-in-law also came in and my camera with its ability to see the picture on the LCD screen kept things fun with pictures keeping everyone smiling. After breakfast, Mr. Sharma puts me to work photographing the house, the wives, the house's temple and even the neighbors and dog. Its an amusing situation to which I willingly participate, later in the afternoon it started getting old but at this point it was fresh and fun.

We leave the house and head further up the mountain. It takes about an hour to go 10km up to the top of the next mountain till I couldn't get any further on the bike. From there we still had a 2.5 km walk to the top of the hill which was our destination. This walk was to prove something my knees and ankles were probably not prepared for, and they certainly complained most of the way up the mountain trail. The walk itself was a lovely walk through mountain pines and rough mountain trails which reminded me for all the world of where I grew up in Idaho. It was a little frustrating for me in that I'm slower then Mr. Sharma and he has to slow down a bit to match my speed but this is the hardest walk I've been on since the plane accident so I'm not going to let my speed get to me. We get to the last part which is a tough climb up a grassy hill with donkey's and cows grazing on it. Always the best for last, this proves to be a heck of a climb, but at the top we get to the temple of Dhamoon which is a small wood and stone temple at the top of the hill looking down over three separate valleys. We've climbed up from 2,150 meters to where the temple is at 2,520 meters with the valleys all dropping down to about 600 meters - or a 6,000 ft vertical drop on all sides.

About 2 years ago the 500 year old temple was damaged by fire which burnt up some of the original wood slabs which formed the sides. Today's ceremony was to bring up new logs from the forests below and required the huge logs be pulled up the mountain with ropes and muscle. As we get to the top of the temple we see one of the logs clearing the hilltop below the temple. With approximately 200-300 people pulling on the ropes to pull it through the dirt up the mountain. We watch from the top as the drummers and buglers slowly make their way up the hill followed by the villagers pulling on the ropes and the log itself.

One of the first things I see is the log which is probably 20 feet long, and 3 feet square, start to roll off the narrow footpath and roll down the hill causing those pulling on that side to drop their ropes and run to stay out of the way of the rolling mass which eventually comes to rest against a few trees with miraculously no one getting hurt. We watch the log be pulled off the trees, back up the ravine its gone down, and back up the path to the temple. The last incline is at least 65-70 degrees and the work to pull it up is amazing.

Once the log is up at the temple, everyone goes into the small temple courtyard to sit and take a rest. I'm treated like a guest of honor being a foreigner and coming with Mr. Sharma who introduces me to the head priest, the forman and government officials overseeing the process. I'm brought water which I certainly need after that walk up. Its normal water but this time I'll have to bend the rule on not drinking the water as I've got to have something. I finish the cup and all sit around resting - the villagers from pulling the log up the hill, me just from the walk. I make a bit of a faux-pas by asking Mr. Sharma if I could have a bit more water, he calls over to someone else who calls down the line and about 10 minutes later, the forman comes over with a pitcher of water. He mentions that there is a bit of a "water shortage" up here which if I had thought about it would have been pretty obvious - any water will have to be carried up on someone's back and I'm sure there isn't much up here. He says they've "prepared some special" for me, and brings the pitcher over. Obviously I can't refuse the water now though I do feel quite guilty - but also very thirsty and start to try to drink, however this is a bit of a problem as they have brought the pitcher but nothing to drink from. I'm already in the spotlight as I've got a couple hundred people around me watching this, the foreman is there with the pitcher and I have no idea how I'm supposed to drink the water. I turn to Mr. Sharma looking for help, but he doesn't understand why I'm having problems with this and looks back quizzically. I take the pitcher and raise it to my mouth but stop before drinking looking at Mr. Sharma and asking, "like this?", he looks back at me aghast at what I'm thinking and takes the pitcher away from me and raising it above my head and saying "use your hands" which takes me a second to get the idea right to the amusement of the crowd who are all laughing by this time. What makes it even worse is Mr. Sharma starts pouring, and pouring fast but as he's above me he can't see my expression which it getting more and more worried as my eyes get bigger and bigger with the amount of water and the speed he's pouring it into my hands. I don't want to spill it as that would be very rude since it was carried up, but Mr. Sharma can't see what everyone else can which is I'm about to drown in the flood he's pouring down my throat. Fortunately one of the villagers suggests that might be enough, Mr. Sharma stops pouring and I roll onto the ground gasping for breath and laughing at the comedy of the situation.

After a while everyone packs up and walks back to begin the process of dragging the next log up. It takes more then hour before it comes into sight so Mr. Sharma and I sit in the shade and talk with some of the other people who are staying up on top. As we watch the next log clear the trees in the clearing below, I turn to Mr. Sharma and ask, "Hey, why aren't they putting round logs under the log to act as rollers?" You can't imagine how odd this moment seemed. I see his brow furrow and the realization of how much easier the process would be with rollers. "Hum, that would be a good idea wouldn't it?" Unbelievable, here's the foreigner sitting on the hill going, - "uh guys, you don't really want to do it that way......"

We head back down and on the way pass the VIP team - the county head who has walked up the hill with his retinue to put his blessing on the process and who Mr. Sharma stops to press the flesh. I head on ahead knowing I'm going to be slow and not caring about pressing the flesh with the local politicos. The walk down proves to be very slow as I'm very worried about twisting my ankle which leaves the shadows growing quite long by the time we make it back to the bike.

On the way back we have another bit of amusement on passing a cow herd moving 7-8 head of cattle up the road. The Enfield has a distinctive and loud "thump" as an engine noise and one mother cow and her calf obviously didn't like the sound and turned round and back toward the cow-herd. I stop the bike and look to him for direction and he tells me to go on ahead. That probably wasn't the right idea as I rev the bike up again the cows bolt past the cow-herd and stay just in front of the bike for the next 2 kilometers. We see some grade-school students and Mr. Sharma yells out to them to stop the cows with yells and sticks and I pull the bike over to the side of the road but the kids just can't get their coordination right and the cows continue past on down the road. I keep going and when the cows finally get smart enough to go off the road into the pasture off to the side, we've already gone 3 km down the road. Well, there is one cow-herd in India who isn't going to be fond of foreigners.

On the road back I stop for gas and find that the one local gas station (only one for 50 km) is out of gas and won't have any for the next couple of days. Lovely. We make it back to the hotel and my muscles have all stiffened up to the point just getting off the bike is a challenge. I waddle back up to the room and to my disappointment find there is no water, quelling that hot shower I'd been looking forward to. After a quick dinner, its not long before I'm under the covers and out, this being a long but wonderful day.

Previous Entry | Next Entry