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Published: September 29th 2022
Up at my old house
Taken from the yoga patch I had constructed six years ago just down from the leased house. Gyaghi, Inner Seraj Valley
“
Throughout this life, you can never be certain of living long enough to take another breath.” Huang Po “
What day is it?” asked Pooh. “It’s today,” squeaked Piglet. “My favourite day,” said Pooh. A. A Milne “You only lose what you cling to” Gautama Buddha
“
We were right, we were giving. That's how we kept what we gave away” Neil Young, Comes a Time.
Three nights ago at around 9pm, just one km up the the road from where I stay, a tourist bus driving in the rain, and containing 17 people, missed a corner on the steep road coming down from Jalori Pass (failed brakes and failure to use gears for braking on a wet dark road in unrelentless rain) and fell into the ravine below. Seven people died there and then, a few since and seven survived with various serious injuries. Many locals I spoke to the next morning were part of the 'first response' system in place
Anshu
On a stormy night six years ago while I was in the house up on the mountain, there was high drama as my landlord and wife rushed to Banjar (stumbling down a steep track to the road and the 9 km down the valley) when complications were apparent... The result: A gorgeous 6 year old Anshu. :) here, as there are frequent tragic incidents like this. Just one month ago, only 500 m up from where I stay, a car ploughed through the safety fence into the deep ravine, killing three people.
I arrived back in this valley five days ago after not having come for four years. There was a strange feeling that I had been away perhaps a week only. Perhaps less. The passing of time. I once said to a good friend “time is relative” to which she answered “I don't know what that means”. I don't pretend to know what it means either, but the question remains: What is this and how did I get here?
I will only stay about a month this time, and during that time I will also be away on side-trips on the bike perhaps for ten days, not to mention the inevitable nights away at local mountain-top religious festivals. So I have gratefully accepted my friends' offer to use his spare guest cottage (he is in America) rather than negotiate and have to set up in the house I had leased previously. I visited that house a few days ago, and
The Himalis in the distance
The day after the accident, clear skies and distant Himali snow-caps. found all the household gear that I left there plus clothes and guitar in perfect condition. Here the traditional houses have amazingly snug-tight door cupboards made of the local Deodar pine that are built into the thick rock walls. They are so tightly crafted that no vermin or other insects can enter. My clothes were so fresh from the effect of the fragrant pine that I could have just put them on there and then after four years storage.
Anyway, it gives me options to come in the future and rent my old place there on a monthly basis with no need to gather the rugs and sheets and blankets and kitchen gear and spare clothes to set up for a summer sojourn.
I am slowly reacquainting myself with locals who seem to recognise me very well from the numerous times I have spent months here. My challenge is to remember all their names. It's a nice homecoming with the sense of connection and belonging.
Other than that.... I am reminded that it IS all relative in the end. Here, Australia, Spain or wherever I go, I still have the same
Sirthi
High up in a village ... a steep 2 hour walk up to visit a local old friend. ego to live with (my belief is that ego strives to drive the 'bus' that is this body, and that the more I can put ego aside as just another passenger, the better. Wish me luck... however I am not alone by a long shot on this path and have many learned teachers to gain wise teachings from in finding the way).
India is changing fast. The world changes always, but India is changing much faster still. The growing affluent and 'educated' middle class has broken out of the cities and seek adventure in those places that used to be the purvey of mostly western tourists alone.
It is
gobsmackingly unbelievable how much development has occurred in this valley in just four years. That middle class to which I refer now probably equals about 550 million people (out of a total Indian population of 1.43 billion people). That presents the locals with opportunities hard to ignore. So many guest houses, home-stays, and large hotels have sprung up in the time of covid when there was not much else to be done. So much so that parts of the valley are pretty much now devoid
Sirthi Tarch
A 'tarch' is a kind of commons... a clearing in a village where religious festivals are held. Usually (as here) with a gorgeous little open-sided wooden temple. of the '
shanti' (peace) that tourists sought in the first place here. Thankfully, as soon as I climbed up the steep trial to where my old house is located above the valley, I sensed that '
shanti' as unchanged... gazing far down the valley towards the distant Himalis and directly across at pristine forest, and knowing that to walk up and along the ridge would bring me through enchanted old growth Deodar forests. The valley can do what it does.. I can see quiet solitude up there above still.
The morning after that horrible accident, about 9am, a man on a motor-scooter lost control in the exact same place as the accident the previous night and fell to his death.
We had better remain focused on what is before our eyes.
Gone gone, beyond,,,, completely exposed. Awake, so be it.
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Prem Baba Mani
non-member comment
Winding roads
Be safe brother. Take your time always 🕉💗🙏🏽