Cuckoo.. Time Travel

Anything fed to the human brain in a repeated manner during the growing phase is etched onto it forever. So was the sound of cuckoo coming from an old wooden clock hanging in our house when I was a little girl. Time was of no value to me, the clock was. I ran to watch the cuckoo come out of the very small door that opened with a droning sound making “cuckoo…cuckoo”. I just watched it with the same amazement every time it ticked an hour. Time passed and I realised the importance of the time I had and of the time I didn’t too. I wished the days were longer and the nights even longer.

One day I decided to go on a trek with my sister Mohini, We selected a beginners trek route: Nag Tibba, given the kind of experience we had between us; 4 of the 6 were mothers who had not bothered walking the slopes in front of our respective houses. We chose to blame the rough Himalayan weather for choosing the moderate trek and convinced ourselves we could do a better route the next time around.

We didn’t leave much time for planning lest one of us cancel the plan. The six of us started packing and repacking our bags 2 days before departure. Since we were travelling in the closing window of summer towards end June it meant we would have more unknown weather conditions. So we packed a lot of extra clothes and rainwear to keep us warm and dry if it rained in the mountains.

Sarita our travel parter and co traveller was quick to plan a trip. Constantly updated checklists from our doctor friend Archana, kept us running and looking for more things to pack which included energy bars for the trek. The only other time I had packed energy bars in my bag was when I went to the labour theatre during the birth of my first baby in UK. So I made sure I didn’t carry them energy bars. Ritu, the luxury travel mate kept us in awe all the time with her checklist: neck pillow, eye mask, night creams, sanitisers, knee caps, crape bandage and a whole lot. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get one bag packed. She was to be kept at bay until flying time. Maithri the coolest of the lot kept saying “All you need is a pair of good shorts and some Ts”.

Day 1
The day arrived and we were up and ready at 4:30 am.
Ride: Tempo Traveller (with blue light inside which Shashi joked we all looked like jaundiced )
Destination: Mangalore International Airport (which we all took an oath to not check in on FB)
Flight 1: 8 am IXE- BLR
Airhostesses: White with overly done face and fake hair
Food: None so far except for stale sandwiches at the airport stall.
None of us could keep our excitement behind and we are gleefully chattering loudly and giggling on a Monday morning flight loaded with people trying to catch up on the precious last hour sleep before they are hustled to the busy Bangalore. But we don’t care anyways and one liquor chocolate is already in one of our stomachs.
Leg one: Our view: Stranded in Bangalore Airport for 5 hours before the next flight.
What actually happened: Lot of window shopping little bit of shopping and hogging, finally we are the last ones to board our flight when we had 5 hours of wait time.
Flight 2: 1 pm BLR – Dehradun
Airhostesses: We weren’t too bothered to keep our eyes open even for the safety instructions.
Food: Full stomach (Breakfast and Lunch at the airport)
Flight scene: All 6 of us in deep slumber saves the co-passengers a noisy fly.

Dehradun:
Crazy hot as we get out of the aircraft. We still attempt at clicking pictures on the runway. (The next group obsession after food.)

Girls’ status: All hungry and alert, anxious to reach Dehradun to munch on more food.
First pitstop: Anandam
Food: Panipuri, chole bature, ras malai, rasgolla, malpuha, chaas, dhokla.

Status: 5pm. Full stomach. Best time to resume assumed one hour journey to Mussorie where we will be spending the night.

The presumed one hour journey takes nearly 2.5 hrs, thanks to the Uttarakhand govt for getting a stay on adventure sports and diverting all the traffic to Mussorie which is the only known go to place around Rishikesh and Shimla. Blame our luck for this.

8pm: We struggle the packed street of Mussorrie and meet our guide for the trek, Mr. Rajveer and our chef , Hukumji and then proceed to hotel for check in where our grand buffet dinner is awaiting. The staff only seems too eager to feed us so that they can close the kitchen and hit their beds.
Weather: Lovely with a hint of chill in the air.
Anticipating an active day ahead, we all crash well before our known stay on time.

Day 2
7 am: Winding along oaks and pines that are over a 100 ft tall, this place looks like beauty mode is on all the time. The valley is filling fast with white clouds descending from the mountains surrounding us.
(We have already got enough pictures by the time the rest of us are out and ready.)
We meet Rajveerji who escorts us to our ride with our backpacks ready.
The drive to Pantwari village which is the base of the mountain we will be trekking is about 2 hours of magnificient view of the lower Himalayas with meandering Yamuna along our way. Every turn of the road boasts of breath taking views. Everyone lost in their own space manages to reach Pantwari at aroung 1:30 pm.
Lunch at a very small tea shop: paratha with local chilli pickle.

2pm: Trek begins with photo session. All our essentials including tents, gas cyclinder for cooking, water, kitchen essentials are loaded on 2 mules: Phatka and Imli.
2:15 pm and 100 metres uphill: Some of us are wondering if its wiser to take our car to a point along the trek which will take us 1.5 km closer to the peak.
(This seems like a small stretch but trust me when the slope is 70 degrees and the climb is on boulders and mud, it is not an easy decision to make).
We pull ourselves along each step and thank our stars for choosing a moderate trek. Our guide makes it worse for us by saying Nag tibba trek is for beginners and even children complete the trek.(His voice fades as he completes the sentence saying the children complete the trek seated on horses)

We tried to capture every mesmerising view along our way. The climb was as beautiful as it could get. The sun showed mercy and kept low all our way uphill. We stopped to drink the pristine spring water with our bare hands. The cold water splashed on our faces brought us utmost freshness like they show in the beauty product commercials. We felt beautifully blessed. The air around so pure, the only sounds coming from insects and birds. We walked past tiny stone cottages where the inhabitants lazed under trees in the afternoon sun while their goats grazed near them. It looked like we had left the world behind and entered the land of magic, where nature was the magician. Life at this countryside was beautiful and peaceful.

We trekked about 4 kms that day to reach the base camp around 5 pm and what we saw from up there was just shades of green mountains and valleys lined with silver oaks.

5 Hot chais+ rusk+ butter cookies +1 disgustingly colorless coffee(me) = riots of laughter + hilarious videos imitating “chai peelo” behen.(which reminds me to take a coffee break!)

While we basked in the glory of mother nature, we were served hot tomato soup and roasted papad with it. We sipped hot soup while the clouds moved through us. Within an instant we could see the weather changing from clear skies to cloudy to extent where we couldn’t see beyond 10 ft.

If this wasn’t enough, Hukumji at our service popped us some corn. We were so full by this time that we promised not to eat dinner that night. We said that every night for the rest of the trip.

As the sun set, we sat amidst the mountains taking in all the moments, trying to digest the fact that we all were there and also trying to digest all the food we had eaten. It got us to the discussion of toilet, which was just a hole in the ground, with a tent around it. All the food and all the “tatti” talks was making us very uncomfortable but none of us dared to do the task.
So amazing is the power of human brain to forget, that by dinner time we all sat by the bonfire while our team cooked us a fantabulous dinner on the mountain top.

Chicken curry, salad,matar paneer, dal,chapatti,rice and gulab jamun.
When the cold was getting colder, we were soaking the heat from the fire.
We retired to our tents with more talking and giggling, the night sky covered us, the stars lit dim, if there was a moon that night, we didn’t see. One by one the tents became silent. It was the end of one more day, the three tents close together stayed put for the rest of the night.

Day 3
3 am: Thunder, lighting, torrential rain and mighty breeze. Nature is at its full swing, rocking our tents violently as we refuse to peep. (We might have spoken too much about souls and ghosts during our dinner last night.)
5 am: The rains are still lashing. Our guide comes around to tell us, we are staying put for more time until the weather clears. I put my head out to peep at the peak we were supposed to climb. The dark clouds are hovering over the peaks that look so calm. We all try to go back to sleep but simply can’t resist the sunrise on the mountains as beautiful as these. Eventually we all step out of our tents and absorb the morning.
Todays food list:
black ginger honey tea on empty stomach.
Chai with toast around 7 am.
Egg omelette, buttered toast, banana honey oats, cut papaya for breakfast.
While we are waiting for the weather to clear, all of us are unclear on the usage of the toilet pit. All the traffic has been one way. We make multiple attempts all resulting in failure.
Determined to not ruin the day, our guide guides us with group photography. Using us as props, he makes us pose in the most commonly copied yoga postures for pictures. We try to gain our posture as we laugh and fall.

11 am: Since Rajvir ji is unsure of taking us to the peak, we decide to explore the uphill closest to us. Leading the path, he takes us first through an open hoodless forest. There is dense fog surrounding us and the weather is pleasant. We sing and dance our way making documentary videos on Himalayan mint. As we turn around the hill, the topography changes to something that resembles dense tropical forests. The birds are communicating loudly. We smell musty floors. The trees are covered in moss. The rocks are slippery. The tribals in us dance to the tunes of this master. The dense jungles opens to the small plateau that we had eyed from our basecamp. The view is astounding and so is Jio. We video call all our near and dear ones showing them the view.

And it is at this moment that a real cuckoo enlightens us echoing in the skies “cuckoo cuckoo” freezing the moment as it is. The six of us hushed each other to listen to one sound coming from a bird we couldn’t see. Instantly all of us traveled back in time to our childhood when time was plenty. We were now greedy for more time. I had never heard a real cuckoo before but it sounded exactly like the clock hanging on our wall for over decades where a tiny bird made its appearance every hour saying cuckoo. It was soon time to leave the cuckoo echoing to itself and to the woods.