JetLite Flights Airways : Delhi to Manali

It is early evening when we reach Manali from Delhi.  A number of establishments have shut down for the day; everyone likes to sleep early in the hills, our driver tells us.  Our resort at Prini on the picturesque Manali-Naggar routs looks warm and inviting.  Completing the chek-in-formalities, we settle  the for steaming cups of chai in the reception area itself.  The hotel staff helps us with luggage as we collect the keys to our rooms.  Once we open the door, a collective whoop of delight escapes our lips.  We rush to the windows for the spectacular view of snow-capped mountains that at the moment , seem to be turning into a shade of pink under the rays of the setting sun.  Reluctant to leave the unfolding panorama, we order room service.

Next morning we have a huge breakfast of paranthas, achar and dahi, washed down with the best adrak ki chai.  I’ve had in recent times.  Sataited, we wonder what we should do next.  Although we’ve booked a four-nith-five  day package we’re clear this one isn’t going to be a been there-done that kind of holiday.Instead, we will take it easy see the town, marvel at nature’s glory and well, have a relaxed break!

Going back to the resort, we revel in the joy of ding nothing! On the second morning. We stroll down Manali’s streets. Time seems to stand still as we find ourselves in what appears to be a mini forest in the midst of tall deodar; cedar and pine trees.  We greedily inhale the fresh fragrant air.  The tranquility of our environs is broken only by the chirping of birds that we do not get to hugged in places by the snowy mountains, dodges us throughout our walk, at the same time providing unwavering company.

Vasiht, Hadimba, Manu-temples dedicated to mythological characters in Manali- form our agends for the third day.As Sanjay, our chauffeur from Delhi, negotiates the car up the incline to the parking lost near Vasisht, local drivers bar us entry seeing they are not meant for outside vehicles! We ask Sanjay to sort out the issue and head towards the temple.

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The slightly sloped street is flanked by shops, guest houses, cafes, muddied snow blobs and scattered garbage,. Even before we can complete the stretch to reach the temple, ‘chingoo’ (local blanket) salesmen surround us. We promise to visit their shops on our way back.  Outside the temple we find ponds and sulphur springs.  There is a steady steam of water from these natural sources.  The devout believe that it has curative properties. Several men and women take dips in separate baths meant for them; some even wash their clothes!

Our next stop is Hadimba Devi temple .locally known as Doongri temple.  We are greeted at the parking lot by touts with well-fed, colourfully atired yaks.  These men and woman trail us.  Demanding that we get ourselves photographed with animals, even if we do not want to ride them. More of them follow, asking us to cuddle rabbits and fleecy white lambs and take photographs.  I’m surprised and even disappointed to bserve that our polite refusal to oblige them, meets with greater persuasion.

The temple to honor hadimba, wife of Bhim, of Mahabhart fame, was built in 1553 by King Bahadursinh.  Nestiled in the midst of gigantic pine trees on a hillock, the ground is carpeted with snow in winter.  At the entrance to the shrine are huge foot imprints, said to be of Hadimba Devi.  Since photography is not allowed inside the temple, a couple of youngsters pleads with the preist to allow them to take a shot of the foot-prints for their ageing grandparents back home.  Perhaps familiar with excuses, the requests fall on deaf years.

Walking a couple of hundred meters away from the Hadimba temple, we come across the temple dedicated to Ghatotkach, some of Bhim, represented by a tree adorned with yak horns and some idols. With nothing really to see here , we saunter towards the temple for Manu, supposedly the only one built for the sage anywhere in the world. We snake our way through a maze of very narrow alleys flanked on the sides by ramshackle buildings of brick, wood and stone that are still occupied.  It is common knowledge that Manali derives its name from Manu, the legendary ancient teacher of sacred rites and laws. At the temple we find an old woman winding yak hair on spools to be used for weaving fabric.  We conduct a strange conversation – my husband and I talk to her in Hindu, while she responds in pahari, the language of the tribal people here.

Next on our agenda is Naggar, 28 km away, for the Roerich Art Gallery which has some magnificent paintings by Russian masters, Less than 100 m away is the Uruswati Folk Museum dedicated to Russian folk art, inc luding stone artefacts, painted dishes, crystal etc.

A visit to the market centre in Old Manali is reserved for the lsst day.  Every now and then , we spot locale sitting around small fires, warming themselves and sipping , what appears to be some herbal concoction.  Yes, fruit juices and concentrates are available in Manali.  We savour plum juice at one of the eateries and taste yak cheese from the German Bakery at Sanjay’s suggestion.  Manali’s market is a big crowd-puller with a wide range of products like footwear, baskets and blankets woven by the village women.  Care for a light meal? Choose from sandwiches, pastries, tarts, croissants and bread.  We opt for the mild Italian pizza at Pizza Olive and the chocolate-oozing pastry from one of the bakeries.

Crows wheel in circles through the sky, ready to go home as the burnt sun prepares to go down. As the first stars pierce their way into an ink-blue sky, we look out from our room window for one last glimpse of the soaring mountains, now a dark silhouette of their majestic self.  Next morning we will be heading home.