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TUNGNATH – STAIRCASE TO HEAVEN
The Himalayas straddled across Asian continent makes a fascinating journey with their unparallel vistas of nature and its people inhabiting the range living together in harmony and sometime living in total contrasts of surroundings, picturesque small towns dotting verdant green valleys and alpine pastures, fast flowing rivers providing watershed to worlds most densely populated masses while the Himalayas cradle and nurture the world three biggest religion beliefs, it take the travelers in a world that may seem to exist in dreams but it is very much there, living and thriving. Little unusual nooks and corners of Himalayas and inhabitants there, living in their traditional ways and culture unique to them, having nature so bountiful that can make us city dwellers so enviable.
The valleys and mountain of Himalayas never fail to surprise on the traveller in search of the picturesque. Though it is almost impossible to know and roam about every comer of the Himalayas, but this would also mean that there are always new corners to discover; be it a forest or meadow, a glen, a small clearing, a soothing cool fern lined cobbled pathway, a gurgling mountain stream, a wayside shrine or maybe a very old Deodar that is actually a God!!
IN Garhwal the temple of Tungnath is one such corner, at nearly 12,000 feet, is probably the highest shrine on the inner Himalaya range. It lies little below the Chandrashila peak, some way off the main pilgrim routes, and naturally less frequented than Kedarnath or Badrinath, though the temple itself it forms a part of the Kedar establishment but is devoid of usual humdrum of fervent religious activities the other temples else ware in the region are privileged to. The Brahmin chief priest here is a local man, from the village of Maku; whereas the other Kedar temples have South Indian priests, a tradition begun by Shankaracharya, a highly acclaimed eighth-century Hindu reformer and revivalist of Hindu Dharma, even though his method of revival and reform are under cloudy analysis by some scholars. Where the temple of Badrinath seems to draw a special attention as disputed territory.
Away form any discord, Tungnath's lonely eminence has a magic of its own. To get there or beyond it to Chandashila peak if you want to test your lungs a bit more, one passes through some of the most delightful temperate forest patch in the Garhwal Himalayas. Pilgrims or trekkers, or just plain rambler like I gadding about in Himalayas rather aimlessly, one comes away a better man, forest-refreshed and more aware of what the world and esp Himalayas were really like before mankind began to strip it bare and exploit its resources in earnest.
On a good weather day, vista around Tungnath can be so exquisite and uplifting that you can gaze for hours and not get tired of varied hues and palettes playing upon Chaukhamba mastiff, kedar punch and rataban ranges amongst many others. Apart from Tungnath there are other spots that seem like a veritable wilderness is, Duiri Tal, situated at the height of about 8,000 feet is little above beaten track. If you wish to spend a night there at lakeside, do carry a pitch tent. At night the sky anywhere in Himalayas assume a special dimension, which you will discover here for sure.
But further along this range, the road ascends to Dugalbeta situated at about 9000 feet where a PWD rest-house, gaily painted, has come up like some exotic orchid in the midst of a lush meadow dotted by excelsia and pencil cedars. Many people who had right connections and authority letters have stayed here has sang paeans and rhapsodized on the charms of Dugalbetta; and if you are unofficial Janta like myself and therefore not entitled stay in the bungalow, you can move on Chopta, still green and lush, where there is accommodation for pilgrims and other hardy souls, provided by Garhwal Vikas Mandal Nigam rest house, that overlook the valley and reserve forest below that have plenty of game in it. There are one or two local chai shops too providing mattresses and quilts that may come handy if you unexpectedly turn up in pilgrim season (May to June) and rest house is filled to the flanks. The chai shops I have known in yesteryears have changed hands since, so it may be like a lucky dip when it comes to cleanliness, but they are good value for money for a weary traveller in term of comfort.
To get to Chopta, you have to can catch a local bus from Okhimath that is popularly known as ‘bhook hartal’ (hunger strike). Interesting story about how this bus came to get this name is when India took a severe beating in 1962 war, the most glaring revelation was that India had next to none road network in hills. In consequence to that finding government planned many alternate routes as reserve roads. Okhimath to Chopta and beyond is one such route that runs parallel to the famous pilgrim route and do not have many big villages en route so there was no bus service. After waiting for long villagers gather around the Deputy Commissioner’s office and sat on a hunger strike that was called off only after the DC promised to make the state transport ply one bus a day on that route.
The trek from Chopta to Tungnath is only three and half Kilometre, but in that distance one ascends nearly 3,000 feet, and owing to your state of lung function capacity or lack of regular exercise you may be forgiven for feeling that the temple is on a perpendicular path. Personally I feel it’s like treading on a stairway to heaven. On a windy day with valley on your left and a straight fall down to thousands of feet on right side just a few meters away only, heighten this feeling.
If you feel more enterprising there are always short cuts to take you on the next rung of the ladder clawing your way up clutching tufts of alpine grass. Sometime you may get stuck in soft bough like earth and inch your way down again. It began to resemble a game of Snakes and Ladders and real fun begins.
On the way a tiny guardian temple dedicated to the god Ganesha spurred me on. In spite of the ascent I never felt fatigued for the ever fresh air and the verdant greenery surrounding me like an intoxicant. Myriads of wild flowers grew on hill slopes-buttercups, anemones, wild strawberry that taste very tangy, forget-me-nots, rock-cress; there were enough variety to rival the valley of flowers at this time of the year. Before reaching these alpine meadows, I went through rhododendron forest and here one finds at three species of this flower: the red flowering tree rhododendron which is found throughout the Himalayas between 6000 feet and 10,000 feet; a second variety, the almatta with flowers that are light red or rosy in colour, this variety is more abound in eastern Himalayas rather then north flanks; and the third chimul, or white variety, found at heights ranging between 10,000 feet and 13,000 feet. The chimul is more of brushwood, seldom more than ten to twelve feet high and growing slantingly because of the heavy burden of snow it has to carry for almost six months in the year.
Those brushwood rhododendrons are the last trees seen on the ascent for, as we approach Tungnath the tree line ends (which happens rather sooner in northen Himalayas against Eastern Himalayas where tree line usually go past 14,000 feet) and there is nothing between earth and sky except grass, rock and tiny flowers. Above me, a couple of crows in company of a Chough, dive-bomb a hawk, which does his best to escape their attentions and concentrate on ground below scanning for Pika. Crows are the world's greatest survivors. They are capable of living at any height and in any climate; as much at home in the back streets of Delhi as on the heights of Tungnath. Noisy antics of the crows draw up attention of a fellow traveller and he wondered at the survival of these hardy crows with a very unusual simile- “potatos, onions, crows and Sikhs are found everywhere in this world”!!!
Another survivor, up here is the pika, sort of a mouse-hare, which looks like neither mouse nor hare but rather a tiny guinea-pig; small ears, no tail, grey-brown fur and chubby feet. Maybe he is some kind of a relative of marmots, but my knowledge about animal world isn’t very great. They emerge from their holes under the rocks to forage for grassa and roots on which they feed. Their thick fur enables them to live at extreme cold and they have been found at 16,000 feet; no other mammal is known to live at a greater height. The Garhwalis call this little creature ‘runda’ and it is not averse to entering the house of the priest and helping itself to grain and other delicacies. So perhaps there is more of mouse in it than of hare.
Those little rundas were with me all the way from Chopta to Tungnath, peering out from their rocks, scampering about on the hillside, seemingly unconcerned by presence of man. At Tungnath they live beneath the temple flagstones. The priest's grandchildren were having a game discovering their burrows; the rundas would go in at hole and pop out at another having as much fun as the kids.
When I arrived at the temple, clouds had gathered over Tungnath, as they do almost every afternoon in this season. The temple looked austere in the gathering gloom and foggy mist. The name 'Tung' indicates 'lofty', from position of the temple on the highest peak outside main chain of the Himalayas; others derive it from word tangna- to be suspended-in allusion to the form under which the deity is worshipped here. The form is the Swayambhu Ling; and on Shivaratri, the true believer may, 'with the eye of faith, see the lingam increase in size; but 'to the evil-minded no such favour is granted'.
The temple is said to built by the Arjun of Mahabarat fame is however dated by modern archaeology as built around 1200 to 1300 hundred years ago, though not very large, is certainly very impressive, mostly because of its unique setting and the solid slabs of grey granite from which it is built; there is no wood work I can see. The whole place somehow minds of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights-bleak, windswept, open to the skies. As I look down from the temple at the little half deserted hamlet that serves it during pilgrim season the eye is met with grey slate roofs and piles of stones, and hardly a soul in residence.
The temple priest, attended by his son and family nearby complains bitterly of the cold. To spend every day barefoot on those flagstones must indeed be hardship. I started to wince within 2 minutes of it and stepping into puddle of icy water only made matters worse. I think I shall never make a good pilgrim and a pilgrim of a doubting mind is certainly not welcomed in place of faith, so no rewards for me, in this world or the next perhaps. But priest’s feet are literally thick-skinned; children around there seem oblivious to the cold. Still, in October end they will be happy to descend to Maku, their home village on the slopes below Dugalbeta.
After a visit to temple and inner sanctorum I went for a little trek to chandrashila peak but the gloomy grey skies did not look very approving to my plans and I retreated back to the small chai shop next to the temple and had a most delicious lunch of freshly made aloo puries and deep fried chillies.
It started to drizzle as I left the temple. I ran to a group of Bangali tourists huddled in a ruined dharamshala but noise and nascent chatter soon made me dash for a small shelter built of granite slabs that from a distance looked like a miniature Stonehenge. It was windy and spray of rain still found me somehow in that shelter but afforded me a very nice view of the valley down below and grey weeping skies, couple of Crows were still nosing about aimlessly. A Pika popped his head suddenly from a nearby hole to take a look at the weather, suddenly a blue bolt struck somewhere with rousing thunder and he disappeared like the Mad Hatter in ‘Alice in Wonderland’, probably to relay the weather news to whole clan through underground borrow network.
Skies cleared within 5 minutes like a magic wend have ordered them and I gingerly trot down on now slippery path once again, halfway down the stair to heaven it begins to pour heavily again. I nearly ran into our first genuine pilgrims, a group of intrepid Bengalis who are undeterred, heading straight into the storm, are without umbrellas or raincoats. Brushwood, Oaks and rhododendrons flash past as I rush down the steep, winding path. Another shortcut sent me spinning down to a cushion of moss, buttercups and anemos. My head slightly dizzy and spinning with fall and delicate scent of flowers I wondered if I open my eyes is there going to be any honeysuckle around as well.
The tea shop beckons. How would one go about the hills without these wayside tea shops? Serving as small inns, they provide food, shelter and even lodging to many who are caught in unexpected weather and errant bus schedules at times.
As I shared the bench with a Gujjar herdsman suddenly his dog appeared; made straight for small duffle bag I was carrying and went about his doggy business in a manner that only dogs can. Images of stone and sticks dint even cross my mind after he gave me a little woof, for I have never seen a dog with so bright yellow eyes and a black coat that didn’t even had a speck of white in it. I soon congratulated myself on my cowardice and ruined duffle bag dint mattered as much when the herdsmen told me his dog petrol around the camp alone in night and it is not uncommon that he fights off even a panther if situations demand.
Tackling an almost frozen sweet Bun with generous help of sickly sweet ginger tea I sat around the herdsman for little while and exchanged notes about Pindar Vellery where I intended to go someday. A line of pilgrims passed in front of us, pilgrims from plain in far off places down the Ganga. They were travelling with almost next to nothing then a small cotton bag tied at the end of stick, children, woman, farmers, even an infirm helped by others. I couldn’t help but think about the strength of simple faith and undiminished enthusiasm that made them stood the rigors of journey and makes nothing of it. As a religion Hinduism comes closest to being a nature religion and have such a fine sense of bonding with elements that be it Rivers, rocks, trees, plants, animals and birds all have their part, both in mythology and in everyday life. This harmony is what is most evident in those remote shrines where gods and mountains coexist. Tungnath is one such place that is yet untouched by materialistic society, still exerts its magic on those who come here with open mind and heart, either to exalt in verdant nature or offer their prayers to the Gods who have been main prop and life support to them.
