Went to the hill resort Barot this mid-June for a  short, one-night stay

                                       I write on how from lovely green this little hamlet has turned ugly and grey

                                      To develop tourism in our pretty hill state this is hardly the way

                                      Preserve nature; promote green assets- that I feel is the only way

Barot revisited (1)

Barot: An overview

On the 16^th of June in the afternoon, accompanied by my wife, I was on my way to Barot. This trip, in fact, was long overdue. After having served a 4-year exile on punishment posting ending in June 1990, this was going to be my first night-long stay here. I had of course been here on a few occasions in between. But those were 1- to 2-hour-stay visits to the government trout farm with the students, stifled by the responsibilities and limitations of an official tour.

 I was whelmed by nostalgia as we drove along the narrow, serpentine uphill road after diverting from the NH at Ghatasani and turned towards Jhatingari. Jhatingari is an important stopover 5 Kms from Ghatasani on the 25 Km drive to Barot. The old, familiar stands of tall, erect deodars soon came into view, casting a magic spell with their quiet majesty, elegance and beauty. From the cacophony, heat and dust of my home town, it seemed like having suddenly entered into a different world altogether: a world of solitude, a world of ethereal bliss. But there was one stark difference. This time there was a long stream of vehicles of summer-oppressed tourists from the plains – mostly bearing Punjab, Haryana, UP, Rajasthan and Uttrakhand number plates - all heading towards Barot; and quite about the same numbers on their way back.

The deodars on the way: majestic, graceful...                                

...and divine

                                                      

                                                                       

Wending our way under the grey, misty skies welcoming us with occasional feeble showers of rain, and oaks and deodars adorning the hill slopes greeting us all along, we landed at our destination a little before dusk. Off and on we would come across a chubby-cheeked, round-eyed local lad or a couple of elderly Banghalan women dressed in traditional attire selling ‘lungdu’, garlic or Rajmah by the roadside. Such sights made me wistful about the days I had spent in the soothing lap of Barot. But for its serene ambience and meditative calm and a slow, gentle pace of life, hadn't the agony and angst of this senseless, vendetta-inspired banishment  been rather hard to bear, I reflected.

                                                        

On the prisitne banks of Uhl khud: litter burning and noxious fumes

 We headed straight to the Forest Rest House past the narrow bazaar, looked after well by a kindly, amiable and hospitable chowkidar Bhagi Ram, where we had booked our room. After some rest and tea we opted to go for a walk. The bazaar still had some old little shops intact. But many had given way to glass-fronted, city-like hotels, offices and other commercial structures. Walking along further, we found dhabas and kiosks catering to all tastes and palates flanking the road. A lot many guest houses had sprung up too. Another one, looking grotesque, ugly and so out of place with its grey façade of cement and concrete etched against the graceful deodars just behind, was under construction (see photo). Tourists were aplenty. With their vehicles parked in a random, shoddy manner all around, they could be seen either roaming about munching Lay's potato chips or busy taking selfies and making videos on the right flank of the Uhl khud. Their children were having fun too cycling along on this stretch of road: obviously cycles too had made inroads and were now available on hire even at such a remote place. This road, once forlorn and used mostly by the locals for their to-and-fro domestic errands was broken at places and had turned slushy and in disrepair due to overuse. In fact this kilometer long tarred road-stretch owes its existence to the Shanan power project on Uhl with a power house at Shanan (near Jogindernagar) producing 800 mw of energy. The project is the brainchild of an ingenious Briton, Colonel Betty of the Raj era. It is a brilliant showpiece of how to harness hydropower with minimal damage to the sacrosanct hills and their pristine flora. He, I am sure, would be turning in his grave at  the present high-tech power project technology destroying all that sustains life with utter disdain to ecology and the environment. Wish there were more Bettys around now for a wiser counsel!

A new (ugly) construction underway

                                                    And where there is a tourist from our plains, can plastic and litter be far behind? Just beside the Uhl, on is wide, grassy bank, a fellow was busy burning the collected garbage- the noxious fumes fouling the cool, crisp Barot air. We took a long stroll along this road which ends at the 'trolley-way' point. (This narrow rail track was originally designed to haul and transport material for the construction work from Jogindernagar and is yet another master stroke of innovation and ingenuity.) Taking in the entire scene with mixed feelings, we returned to the rest house when it was already dark. We sat on the upper veranda which afforded a wonderful view outside. The Shanan reservoir lay stretched right in front of us- a picture of tranquility and soothing calm. As gushes of air kissed wet and cool and crisp by its merry, playful waves  caressed us nursing our weary, jagged nerves to the best of health, I hummed the sweet Panjabi song: सिल्ली, सिल्ली, औंदी है हवा...! It felt divine to just sit there, sipping beer and reflecting on life untrammeled by worldly affairs. Later, Bhagi Ram served us simple but nice daal-sabzi-roti dinner and we retired to the room for a good night’s sleep.
                                                                                                                                                  (Concluding part next week)

Another view of the green Barot valley

                                   

                                         

                                         ***