The Kids from Delhi
After paragliding we looked around the the little settlement in the Solong Valley for a bus stand. It was mid-morning and some of the fog had burned off. White clouds scudded across the blue sky. We got several conflicting directions as to where the bus stand lay. We searched for a little while in vain. As the day was cool we opted to start walking toward Vashisht in hopes of flagging something down along the way. The two lane sometimes tarmac sometimes hard packed dirt road followed the raging river. It wasn't heavily traveled and a nice walk.
About three quarters of an hour after leaving Solong Valley a large, gray SUV pulled up alongside us. Inside were six twenty-something Indians: Three men and three women. One of the guys asked us if we wanted a ride. We accepted and squeezed in. After introductions they asked us if we wanted to go with them to their farmhouse. Sure, we said. Ten minutes a later we were at a nice looking guesthouse in the river valley about half way between Vashist and Solong Valley.
They were all friends from Delhi on a week long holiday here. Most of them were university students. Shyam (or Shamu), a twenty-four year old law student asked us if we would like to have some drinks with them. Sure, we said. He and Amit (or Shirang) were partial to whiskey and coke while the girls took beer. Meredith and I spent the afternoon hanging out with them.
Conversation topics ran the gambit from each of our personal backgrounds to politics to sports. I don't remember details but it was refreshing and enjoyable. As a tourist and a foreigner you have to have your guard up against people trying to separate you from your belongings. India seems awash with con-artists, touts, street hawkers, drivers and salesman who upon seeing that pale skin close like unrelenting piranhas.
I feel like I've become jaded in the past couple of weeks. Civil or friendly overtures are met with suspicion or completely ignored. “What is he trying to sell/get from me?” is the all consuming question of any seemingly innocuous interaction.
As for the aforementioned vendors and the like, they have been dehumanized in my eyes. They're relegated to part of the landscape or obstacles to be either avoided or manipulated to meet my ends. I ask for the price watching for the pause before the answer. That pause is where the price doubles or triples or quadruples before becoming audible. Then the manipulation of the object begins.
Meredith and I quickly realized that the kids from Delhi weren't out to sell us anything or rob us. They didn't want us to help them get visas or smuggle drugs or fake precious gems. They were just genuinely interested in hanging out with a couple of strangers. That's not completely true. Shamu did admit that he wanted someone to drink whiskey with him.
It rained hard the next morning ruling out our adventure sport ambitions. Jean, Meredith and I met up with Delhi contingent that afternoon in Manali. They picked us up at the bus station and we drove around in their SUV listening to really loud and music. After a while we pulled into crumbling hotel/resort overlooking a torrential river. The place reminded me of the setting of Dirty Dancing. On the hotel grounds was a mini fun park with bumper cars and other rides in poor repair.
The only real activity was down by the river where two ropes were some operators had rigged ropes across the wild, frothy water. For 100 rupees ($2) they would put you in a harness and attach you to the rope via a pulley. Then you could pull yourself across to the other side dangling just a few feet above the rapids. On the return trip you could stop in the middle and the operator at your behest would apply downward pressure on the rope sending you down within a breadth of the water's surface only to be yanked back up at the last second.
On my turn, Amit (Shirang) decided he would take over for the operator. Under his guidance I was fully submerged in the icy water and then launched high in the air only to quickly find myself under water again. It was a lot of fun albeit I was completely soaked by the time I disembarked. I thanked Shirang for his enthusiasm in slinging me into the river. Fortunately, he had packed a spare set of clothing which he offered to and I gratefully accepted as dusk was approaching.
We paddled around in the frigid river for a while. Meredith, Shirang and I made a game of jumping from rock to rock trying to get a far out as possible. Afterward we drove a short distance to an ancient Buddhist temple. The ornate wooden structure stood on a hill in a stand of conifer trees. The building itself was only a couple of thousand years old. It was built over a large flat boulder with with a hole in it for catching the blood from animal sacrifices that first came into use five thousand years ago.
Then it was back to the hotel/resort where we played a spirited game of badminton in the gymnasium. There was a discotheque in the building as well but we all judged the $3 cover charge as exorbitant. We returned with them to their guesthouse where Shyam (Shamu) was insistent that we have a drink of whiskey with him. We returned to our lodge disheartened that our time in the mountains was almost at an end.
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