The Neugal khud is not just  the Beas river’s important tributary

                 Though enfeebled now, it is our lifeline; rich in legend and history

                 This week a small little personal incident about it I recall

                 Read it as you hear the welcome sounds of season’s rainfall

The Neugal khud now, and then-when I nearly drowned

           

                                    Photo, courtesy: R G Sud

The Neugal khud nowadays is no more the khud of the 60’s and 70’s. Dammed near its origin ( for power generation), it is now a feeble and frail tributary snaking its way to join the Beas near Tira Sujanpur. Along its entire course, for sand and boulder, it has been mined and mined no end to render it almost comatose and gasping for dear life. The ever swelling crowds of summer tourists have fouled its banks and waters with plastic and litter. The growing and urbanizing towns have polluted it with waste of all descriptions.  That it still flows and gives the visiting tourist a dip of a lifetime in its icy cool waters is but a tribute to its innate resilience and the Dhauladhar’s eternal benevolence.

Half a century ago and before, it rippled with power and energy. It looked bubbly and youthful- full of joy and exuberance. I was then a young toddler in a village school. Summers there were hot…very hot indeed. Therefore (in summers) the schools started early and closed at 1.30. After the school, what better way could there be to cool parched bodies than to take a plunge in the Neugal’s sparkling, gurgling waters? Barely 2 kilometers away from our village, reached by a downhill trot on a cobbled track – its stones hot in the afternoon sun almost singeing our feet – it always seemed to beckon us  holding an irresistible attraction.

So while the elders retired for their siesta to stave off those lazy, drowsy, soporific hours under the sun’s unrelenting fury, I, in the company of neighbourhood lads, sneaked out to the khud. My friends were older than me and all of them expert swimmers- unlike me. We would frolic about on the Neugal’s sandy banks making little castles and homes or run around or play other silly little games. We would also try our hands at catching small little fish that lurked in the narrow crevices of boulders where water was shallow. Some of my pals had deft fingers and did catch some at times; I never could. Later, on our way back, we would drop anchor under the shade of a tree, make small fire with dry twigs, roast the fish and share the prized catch in small bits and pieces!

I never strayed into the Neugal’s deeper waters and just hung around the river’s edge, content with splashing water over the body or taking a short dip.  But my companions would, often one by one, stand on a high rock on the khud’s bank and in a daring sortie, plunge into its roaring waters. They would either swim across to the opposite bank with masterful strokes of hands and feet; or clenching their nostrils with the thumb and finger, go down into the watery depths to emerge moments later and then swim off to either shore. After a little rest on the rocky outcrops or over the sand, their swimming sprees and antics would resume. I felt very jealous and dearly wished to emulate them. To that end I began to learn swimming on my own. Gingerly, I began to venture a little deeper where water was about waist high. From there I would try to beat my arms and legs wildly about and make it back to the shore. After sustained efforts lasting some days, I got it into my head that I knew how to swim. I was now ready to try, qualify the test and join the swimmers’ elite band. So one day, I too stood on the rock, tensed my body up for the plunge and hit the waters. And to my horror, the mighty, gushing, sinewy waves swallowed me up like a hungry beast. As I was going down and drowning, one of the older fellows who happened to be swimming very close by, might have noticed this. Quickly, he got his arms under me, hoisted me up, made me buoyant again and then heaved me along to the safety of the bank. Thus was my life saved from meeting a watery grave. I never tried swimming seriously again and when I recall that incident, it sends shivers down my spine.

                                                                            ***

                            इस बार शिमला, सोलन जैसे शहरों में पानी ने बहुत तरसाया,
                            नहाना तो दूर रहा पीने को भी जल बेहद मुश्किल से मिल पाया.
                            अब आने वाले सालों में मित्रो गहराएगा जल संकट और भी ज्यादा,
                            किफ़ायत बरतें, प्रदूषण रोकें, पेड़ लगायें- आओ हम सब करें यह वादा.

      

     Palampurwalo: Are we using water responsibly?

                                 

Climate change is now well and truly upon us. It is impacting our lives with mounting severity with every change of season. Dust storms that invaded the plains of North India just last week not sparing even our cool and green Himachal, are being seen as a new ‘deadly’ normal. Forest fires this summer have been unprecedented. Never before in my life have I ever seen the Dhualadhar turned into such an inferno with plumes of smoke willowing up from its forested slopes at so many places. Never before such a chilling scare ran through the spine that at this rate the jungle fires might a day too soon extend their reach and engulf our dwellings, our streets and towns. Imagine: 3000 or more hectares of valuable forest area has been devastated by the fires this summer.

Speaking of civic amenities, Shimla remained parched and thirsty for more than 8 days. It took the full might of the government and the High Court’s active intervention -  the CJ had to wake and walk late in the nights - to put things in order. Though the water scarcity is partly man-made, in a wider perspective, it is our melting glaciers, shrinking green cover and depleting water bodies that are at the root of it. Unsustainable urbanization far beyond the carrying capacity of towns - Palampur is no exception – has compounded the misery even more. But for some welcome showers, neither the forest fires nor the water scarcities would have been combated fully by human efforts alone.

And now the foot falls of monsoon are approaching us fast. Normal monsoon as predicted for this season in fact translates into heavy rains for most parts of Himachal – our Kangra valley more particularly so. A couple of cloud bursts have already struck Chamba and other places. So dear friends, brace your good selves up for more such news:  landslides, tree falls, floods, deaths, destruction, horror and devastation. I know I am being boringly repetitious but I feel time has come now to call a halt to this massive plunder of our natural resources in the name of development. Time has come to seek nature-friendly, alternative, non-exploitative models of development.

Reverting to water scarcity, Shimla-like situation is waiting to hit Palampur. Have we drawn any lessons from Shimla? I think we can begin by using water responsibly. I have decided not to wash my car (which even otherwise I seldom wash at home) unless absolutely necessary and that too with minimal use of water: after all it is potable water we are using in the absence of any recycled water being made available for such purposes. No watering of lawn. I already do so very very sparingly but henceforth I leave it to the mercy of rain gods. As for kitchen gardening, our simian cousins (monkeys) have already seen to it that we don’t indulge in this activity any more. Flower pots?...yes. But let’s water them without spilling off water. Using bucket and a mug is more sensible than using an old, leaking water-can (फब्बारा). Then I don’t keep the tap running while brushing my teeth or when shaving. And post Shimla crisis, I no longer press the smaller flush button every time I visit the loo to pee. Instead, I use the hand jet for short, quick flushing which is quite effective and economical as well. As far a bath or a shower, recalling Shimla, I do so with utmost economy and care. Further, a disgusting sight of a public tap running full over an already overflowing bucket, or a water tank at a construction site, is not uncommon. When I bump into any, I mouth the juiciest Punjabi swearwords and make sure to turn off the tap. One thing more: whenever I find any water supply pipes leaking – quite often damaged by a passing truck – I get in touch with the IPH officials and ask them to repair it. I reported one such case of a badly leaking pipe on Wednesday, the 13^th of June, near the road diversion to Aima’s waste treatment plant, and to my joy, found the leaking pipe in order on my walk next morning.

                                     
Well, I know this is not going to solve Palampur’s impending water problem. But these small little ways make me feel like a responsible citizen and embue me with a sense of belonging to my town; I feel happy. And  being happy – in these small little ways - is what life (for me) is so much about!

                                                     ***

              My last week's post on 'Joy' evoked overwhelming response from far and near

              It seems 'Joy' dwells in many hearts- all its memories held so close and dear

              Here is more: my UK friend Peter Phillimore too goes down the memory lane

              And shares his old love for 'Joy's' in a warm little note with sweet nostalgic pain

 

                                     Nostalgia                    

                       On 'Joy' in Palampur

In the crisp clear days of November, back in 1976, we – two young visitors from the UK, Rachel and Peter – arrived in Palampur to find accommodation for some fifteen months while I was doing research for my PhD.  It was the time of PM Indira Gandhi’s Emergency, which still had a good few months to run.  The magnificent views of the Dhaula Dhar were an instant attraction.  But it wasn’t long before we discovered Joy’s…and after that we never went anywhere else.  For a start, Harinder and Hari Om were so welcoming to everyone.  And Joy’s also made excellent coffee, when that wasn’t always easy to find.  We developed a routine.  Getting down from the bus from Baijnath after several days away, we would make our way to the Post Office, to collect our mail sent Poste Restante.  There we would collect letters from the UK, and followed by a crowd of small children asking for the stamps we would head straight for Joy’s to read these letters.   What a treat! 

Peter and Rachel in 70's just before leaving India: more Palampuri than British!

                                                                               
Palampur bazaar life and sounds would mingle with stories and news from home in a strange and reassuring blend.  The past is another country it’s often said, and in a world of email and social media the delights of hand-written letters that have taken five or six days to arrive (pretty quick all things considered) seems now a rather exotic memory.  Anyway, one coffee would be followed by another, along with pakora or bhaji.  It meant that we spent quite a long time in Joy’s one way and another.  We soon thought of ourselves as regulars and were delighted to be treated as such by Harinder and Hari Om.  Other western travelers always seemed to find their way there, and Tibetans too, making it quite the hub for casual conversations.  Sometimes the cricket was on, another pleasure – was it on the radio or TV at that time, it’s hard to recall.  And so a pattern was set. 
                                                                                 

Peter enjoying a pillion ride through the old Palampur bazaar; 'Joy's' can be seen right behind us

Every subsequent visit has rekindled our joy at refinding Joy’s, even if the noise of the bazaar traffic more recently has become a bit of an assault on everyone’s ears.  Among later memories the one I most vividly recall was in September 1997.  It was the day of Princess Diana’s funeral.  Walking with my elder son through the bazaar in the hours before the actual funeral, I was amazed that almost every shop – and Joy’s of course also – had their TVs turned half towards the road, so that those inside and outside could watch the occasion.  We stopped awhile at Joy’s to watch and talk, and take in the slightly surreal experience of this event playing out against the background of daily life flowing through Palampur’s by then buzzing bazaar.  So thank you Harinder and Hari Om, for being such a delight all those years ago – and ever since when we have come back to Kangra.  Till next time, from Rachel and me, Peter Phillimore.

(10^th June 2018)

                                                                       ***
                                                               

               Joy it was to sit, chat and sip coffee in the 'Joy' restaurant, at leisure

                  Memories of those good, easy-paced 70's, I still greatly treasure

                  This week a short account of how it all felt, I write under my pen

                  As many thoughts crowd my mind of the time  spent at this lovely 'den'

                            Nostalgia

         When sipping coffee in ‘Joy’ was pure joy                

    

'Joy' in the late 80's. In the photo: Tim (Peter's friend), Hari Om and Surinder Vats

Way back in the 70’s, Palampur had a quiet, serene ambience. The pace of life was slow and easy. Vehicles were few and far between. Studded with plentiful deodars and pines, and the tea gardens all intact, it exuded the charm of a hill town uniquely its own. The Palampur bazaar was not so noisy, crowded and vehicle-choked as it is now. One could loiter around and shop at leisure without the fear and risk of being run over. And in this very bazaar there was – and still is – a nice and cosy hangout: Joy Restaurant manned by unassuming, polite and friendly Narang brothers: Harinder and the younger Hari Om.

Harinder Narang

Hari Om Narang

                                                         

                                                   

It used to be a favourite haunt for many of us Palampur-dwellers, and the visitors as well. After a round or two of the main bazaar, we would saunter into ‘Joy’. But before moving in, it was almost customary to first meet the ‘Joy’ brothers at the counter, shake hands, exchange greetings and share some quick town gossip. That would add an additional flavour to our ‘Joy experience’. Here then we would sit, sip coffee and give vent to our hopes, dreams and despairs. Being young and eligible bachelors, the topic that occupied center stage in our banter used to be the ‘suitable girls’ studying in local colleges and who was wooing whom! Vibrant music reverberated through the main sitting hall and a couple of small and dimly-lit ones at the rear. The resonant ABBA songs – then a big hit – still ring in my ears and send a pulse of excitement (‘Honey, Honey…I don’t wanna hurt you baby, I don’t wanna see you cry…’; ‘Mamma mia, here I go again’, still give me goose pimples of nostalgic delight). I loved Joy’s samosas, tikkis and chaat. The ras malai was another favourite of mine, as well as gulab jamuns and sizzling hot gajrela to counter the winter blues. And I am sure they still serve you the best and most delectable gajrela in town.

…And so much happened here for me. It was at the ‘Joy’ that I sat across my mentor and guide Dr Tony Gaston, a Canadian wildlife scientist of distinction to discuss about my participation in the proposed Himachal Wildlife Project, over sips of espresso coffee. And let me also make a confession. It was at the ‘Joy’ where I made a formal ‘proposal’ to my fiancée over coffee. It was here too that I came across a charming young couple: Peter Phillimore and Rachel from the UK.  Peter was then pursuing his doctorate and was in Palampur for his research work on Gaddis of Kanarthu- a small and remote village hamlet near Baijnath. They divided their time between stints at Kanarthu and a short stay in their hired accommodation at Palampur. ‘Joy’ – which they frequented often enough - brought us fortuitously together. And, since then, ours has been a rewarding, enduring friendship which is alive and vibrant even today. In fact it was Dr Peter Phillimore who suggested a week back that I write a post on ‘Joy’. And to lend a special flavour to my blog, he has, graciously enough, agreed to write his own  piece on his and Rachel’s tryst with ‘Joy’. Needless to say, they both still adore Palampur and worry about its degrading ecology.

                                            

Well, the Joy restaurant is still throbbing and thriving. The two brothers have of course greyed, as we all have- the young guys of the 70’s! But they are still their old charming selves. We now visit it but seldom. But the sweet old memories associated with this restaurant… memories of our loves and longings, meetings and rendezvousing, hopes and fears, aspirations and dreams and much else, are still vivid and alive.

PS: It seems that Dr Peter Phillimore's preoccupations have
prevented him to send his write-up for this post. I hope to receive
it soon and share it with you....maybe... next week.

                                                                      ***

                              Did you see forest fires on the Dhauladhar this  summer, or not?

                                            The scarcities of water in Shimla and our own villages dry and hot?

                                            I write to voice my lament and rage at the ongoing destruction of all that is green

                                           And urge you to read and share my post: be you young, old or even a bubbly teen

Can we still save Palampur?    

Lucky we are. While the plains sizzle with searing heat in these days of climate change, we, Palampurwallas, still have some few deodars and the pines left to keep the air cool. We have the Neugal, the Awa, the Binwa and the Baner khuds fed by the melting snows of the Dhauladhar for a refreshing dip in this insane heat. We have the beautiful Jacarandas with their dainty, purple blossoms to keep our spirits upbeat and happy. We have the tea-gardens canopied by shady trees to soothe our summer-weary eyes. We have the Neugal café to walk or drive up to for swigs of beer perched relaxingly on its breezy lawns for a refreshing evening with friends or family. And so on...  

                          

But for how long?

Reckless, unregulated, unplanned construction activity goes on at a frantic pace. Even pristine, pine-clad forest hills are being cut up right through the middle (see photo) to make way for link roads to provide access to swathes of land bought by the filthy rich where they would build colonies and sell them at hefty rates and get richer still. Big commercial buildings – which look like ghastly monstrosities in concrete – have come up, and more are coming up right on the banks of our khuds blocking view, defying law and regulations. The MC sleeps; so does the PWD; so does the CTP; so do the local administration and other government departments whose job it is to not let this happen. Have they been bribed or compromised by the powerful builders’ lobby that has strong ties with the politician? Or the politicians and/or their kin have their own stakes and shares in this money-raking construction activity? Is that why the law and regulation enforcing agencies are under pressure to keep mum, look the other way and stay impotent? …I leave these questions that trouble me for you too to mull over.  At times it seems that what to speak of good governance, there is no government at all. How else otherwise could Shimla, Kasauli, Manali and McLeodganj have become so ugly, eye-jarring jungles of concrete with thousands of illegal constructions?

Imagine the horror. Shimla has been without water for 8 days. (And finally, it is the High Court that had to step in and do what was essentially the government’s job. It acted tough, prevented the VIPs from enjoying special favour of assured water supply while the general public suffered and set an example by excluding the jugdes too from any undue favour in water supply. The Chief Justice was walking the streets late in the night calling up the officials and personally monitoring the situation. Why can’t our ministers, MLAs and secretaries act in such exemplary ways in public interest?)

Forest fires are raging everywhere causing immense loss of our invaluable green cover, our dwindling wildlife, our biodiversity. Almost all hill slopes of the Dhauladhar as we look around in the north present a depressing sight: plumes of smoke everywhere rising up and clouding the sky.  And as I woke up this last Wednesday morning, I could feel the stifling smoke and soot having drifted right inside my own home. At this rate, the day is not far off when such fires will spread right in our own neighbourhoods and homesteads as Palampur changes from green to grey. Loud announcements are made before every summer that all due arrangements have been made to control and fight forest fires. Yet every year all plans, all arrangements go kaput. Sadly, these wild fires have already claimed 8 lives including that of a forest official- all because of inadequate fire-fighting infrastructure.

The present government is new. I have faith and trust in our new CM. He needs time to come to grips with the nitty gritty of administration and bureaucratic tangles that clog good governance. But what the hell his predecessors have been doing about combating this massive destruction that visits our lovely forests every summer? Why have they not been able to put in place effective short and long-term measures  despite being in power for term after term? Why have they let thousands of illegal constructions come up and have been making amendments to regularize them- without shame, without regret, without fear of being held accountable?

Well, my worry is: Will Palampur go the way these cities/towns have gone?...Another congested town of concrete with Shimla/Solan-like scarcities of water and other essential civic amenities? It sure will. And sooner than we think. Therefore, dear friends heed the groans and cries of Mother Nature…our degrading local ecology and environment. Let’s ensure a cool, green, clean Palampur for our posterity. Let’s protest and prevent. Let’s call a halt to further erosion, destruction and loss. Days of paying obeisance to our lawmakers are now past. No need to garland them…no more colonial hangover please. They are public servants enjoying huge perks, privileges and life of luxury at our cost. Let’s hold them accountable. Let’s ask them tough questions. Let’s get together and join hands. Let’s do it now…otherwise it will be too late. Let’s save our beloved Palampur.

                                                       ***