We walked on a steep path, seeking a suitable and comfortable homestay to stay in.
In a few minutes, we rolled into a place which had been occupied by some home-stays that were run by mainly Sherpa or Tamang families. One hoarding of a two-storeyed small homestay 'Sittong Homestay' drew our attention to it.
The home-stay was small but surprisingly beautiful, carved out of bamboo and bricks. Its door and windows portions were painted in blue and external walls and fences in red colour. The combination of these two colours had given an attractive look to its design as it had been picked out from any drawing book. This was the kind of home that we used to draw in school days, but we coulď not paint in such an elegant manner.
We noticed the door was ajar and garlands of flowers were dangling down on the door. We slid near the door and called out,'Ko hunun xa?'
One old lady of about 65 years appeared who wore a typical dress 'lungi' and said,'Ke chahiyo babu haru?'
'Aama hamilai aaja ko lagi basne lai kotha chahiyo,' I said.
Hearing our voice, an old man, maybe the husband of that lady, appeared at the counter and asked, 'Who are you and how can we help you?'
"We need a room for tonight," I said, repeating as I thought he did not hear.
The man was of about 70 who knew how to speak English a little,
Meanwhile, two red faced beautiful girls also came out, smiling, perhaps they were either old couple's daughters or kitchen workers.
They all were used to speaking some English even though they lived in the remote area, perhaps they needed to communicate with the English people time and again, so they could.
"Kahan bata aauna bhako ho, babu haru?" the lady murmured.
'Hami Kathmandu bata aayeka hau,' Som replied.
'Oh! Welcome to our homestay!' the man said. 'bhitra aaunu, babu haru.'
"Thank you buba!" we said.
They welcomed us so graciously and courteously, bowing their heads and saying "namaste' as if we were Gods on the Earth planet. But the villagers regard all the visitors the same and treat them respectfully.
They allocated a beautiful room for us on the second floor. It was small but had got adequate space which had two low beds, two small stools, a small cupboard, but it manifested all neatness and comforts aesthetically. The two high windows were graced with attractive flowery curtains that were half open, and they were inviting some familiar fresh cold air inside.
Besides us, some more local visitors and English tourists had booked the homestay for holidays. Some might have come here for a long holiday, and some might have visited to stay merely for a couple of days. But we had come for the night only.
We could spy at the green hills and white mountains, and at the same time, I felt we were going to touch the sky within some moments.
We scrutinized the whole homestay wandering up and down and crawling from room to the balcony or vice-versa.
We were overwhelmed by love, affection, respect and unmatched cultures of the Sherpa family.
The girls were the daughters of that old couple indeed that we got to know, talking to them. They did not have any son and they were miserably surviving, running a small homestay.
Older one was a tall girl and already married, but she had been divorced with her husband a few months ago just after two years of marriage stability and now lived with her parents while the little one also had come of age But she was just a 22 years old girl with short height and did not want to marry soon. Both sisters looked identical by age. In addition, both were very gentle and friendly who knew how to serve all hospitality and treat the customers.
The man told us that his older daughter was Sanumaya Sherpa and little daughter was Sonam Sherpa. As per their names, they both sisters were very beautiful though they were red faced and complete Mongolian girls.
The two young girls helped them in managing things in the house. I think they would hold all responsibilities of the kitchen department chiefly though they hired one other cook too.
We became refreshed and slid onto the beds for some time to rest as our legs had become too weary.
It was almost evening time when villagers made their way back home from fields, working hard the whole day and doing other work and ate whatever stale food they had left at the small kitchen while leaving for dawn work. In this way, everyday they survive their lives in these remote areas, but they are just fortunate for fresh water, air, and peace here and love healthy life though they have a very hard life. I think their life is far better than the urban life. At least they do not have any distress, anxiety, and less chances of any severe disease, however, all of them have their own stories, pain and sufferings.
We were not feeling hungry as we'd had lunch at half past eleven during the drive to Gunsakot from Syaule gaun, so we'd already asked them to take dinner now directly, and we ourselves moved out of the house to view evening magnificent sights of hills and mountains nearby.
While wandering around the area, we fortunately encountered a bungee jump spot where there was a small waterfall which was swishing on the rocks joyfully and spraying water like a fountain. Some tourists had just finished jumping and cheerfully were packing their rucksacks with their stuff. It was dusk, so all the facilitators and instructors were also gathering and packing all the stuff that was required for bungee jumping and going back to their residence. The tourists might have come from another homestay or resort for this hazardous feat which I could never imagine to perform in my whole life.
After wandering and inspecting the area, we walked back to the house.
"How did you like the place?" the man asked.
"Well, I like all hilly regions, but this is really heaven and something beyond explanation," I replied.
"Yea! Really amazing beauty this place has!" Som added.
"Gaun ko hawa pani nai ramro hunxa babuharu," he remarked.
"Buba, hajur haru lucky hunun xa esto ramailo ra ramro thau ma basana pako ma,' Jeetu added.
"Ho babu, but village life is very hard."
"Hajur buba, gaun ko life garo ta garo nai xa."
One of his daughters also stood by him and witnessed our conversation and asked,"Hajur haru bholi nidne ho?"
"Hajur ho!'
"Bholi kun thau ko lagi hiddai hunun xa?"
"Panch Pokhari,"
"Humm!" She said, "It's a beautiful place."
It was about six, and it had been almost time to take dinner.
After some time, the little daughter of the man knocked at the door and entered the room.
''Daaju haru, dinner is ready. Where do you take dinner? In the room or dining hall," she said very politely in a low voice.
"We'll come down within a while," Som said, smiling.
'Hass daai!'
After having freshened up, we came downstairs and sat on the dining chairs.
When we got to the dining table, some mouth watering and appetizing lines of food were waiting for us.
The girls came forward to serve food. They placed three steel thalis heaped with rice and then a line of brass bowls filled with dal. The food items that attracted our mouths especially, were pickles mashed up with gundruk and bhatmas, mushroom curry, mustard saag (spinach), and fruit salads. The typical Nepali food gundruk pickle and mustard saag, with mushroom curry made the whole food group extremely scrumptious.
The night fell and we slid onto our beds. Som started to have discussions with Jeetu about other places, studying maps while I again was trying to make myself engaged in writing a diary journal as my daily work about the whole day's activity and learning, but this time I had been able to carve a few words in the diary.
After I finished writing a few lines, I grabbed the book and was inclined to read some chapters. While reading the book, I noticed both were almost fast asleep and started snoring . Now my eyes also were getting drowsy and oozing out. I also badly needed a bed now, so I also lied on the bed like a log, placing the book gently next to the pillow as I am habituated to keep a book near my head or pillow.
As far as I know, Jeetu is accustomed to waking up early in the morning whilst we two Som and I feel too lethargic to wake up early and have a habit of sleeping longer until the audacious sunlight flashes our faces through the window. The rooster in the house crowd, sitting on the courtyard.
'cock-a-doodle-doo'
'cock-a-doodle-doo'
That crowing sound broke our sweet slumber and intended us to awake though the sound of the roosters in the morning is very pleasing to hear.
Jeetu is habituated to smoke every time in the intervals of 10-15 minutes, that is the reason also he wakes up early. Among us, I think I'm the most lazy and lethargic one who always wakes up late and wants to sleep more until eight.
Jeetu was standing in shorts and tshirt by the open window, having puffs and the smoke was easily pouring out of the window, but his few puffs were adequate to make the whole room smelly and dreary.
'Wake up bros! We'll be late,' He yelled at us like an alarm, trying to break our slumber but he could not succeed. Som was sleeping unconsciously and I thought his ears were not getting any sound though I was half awoken but just felt lazy to wake up.
''Som, wake up! We'll be delayed for the trek," Jeetu repeated.
But after some time, Som was awoken by his sound. He got up as quickly as he could as he was all in all of the whole trip and presumably remembered the timing that he fixed to go trekking. He scuttled to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes.
To see me, still lying on the bed, Jeetu said, 'I think tea and breakfast are ready now. Don't you think we'll be late?"
'Please, wait for a minute!' I muttered.
At half past 9, we had lunch, actually heavy brunch early as we had to walk long for about 5 hours and because hunger would not pine while trekking on the way.
We finished delectable food as early as we could.
As we were on the verge of leaving the house, the hosts came out to see us off. One of the girls held a small steel thali that surprisingly carried a red tika, some flowers- pansies, marigolds, and hibiscus, and and some joss sticks while another gitl was holding three garlands of marigold flowers.
I quickly made a guess that they were going to offer tika and flowers as blessings for the safe journey.
The old lady came near us. She put tika on our foreheads one after another and handed some flowers which embodied her love, affection, care, and blessings for living long. And at the last, she offered garlands also to wear and hang around the neck. It was their enigmatic culture that they usually perform with all the visitors when they visit the place. I was completely overwhelmed by this culture and hospitality, and it was a really touchy and emotional moment for me.
"Babu haru bela bela ma ghuman aau dai garnu hola," the lady said lovingly.
"Hunxa aama," Som said.
"Hamilai pani yo thau sarai man paryo,"
"Keep visiting, babu haru," the man said.
"Hunxa buba! Thank you very much!"
I said.
We left the house, saying 'BYE', and they were still waving their hands, standing by the door.
Our next destination was Panch Pokhari, for we had about a 5 hours walk to the northeast to reach Golche.
We were climbing steadily uphill without any rest like a troupe of nomads.
After more than half an hour walk, we luckily came across a blissful waterfall and witnessed its beauty as the man of the resort had mentioned it while giving information about the place, The waterfall looked so magical which was pounding the rocks and thundering down into the pool joyfully like enormous water spout. When it toppled into the pool, it foamed at the bottom.
It looked so divine and artistic when it was pouring and throwing chill white milk on the earth surface, making gurgling sounds and echoing a ceaseless sound all around the forests and giving off cool and fresh water. The flowers next to it were nodding gently and the flower growing nearby had a honey sweet smell. They were freezing and were shaking with the cold.
We reached near it and felt its coldness and some drops on our faces, and even on our clothes which made us wet and cool and delighted our minds. We stood under it, quivering and shivering with the cold that gave us goosebumps meticulously.
We could see a gaggle of geese grazing by the bank and the scene was perfect to watch. A group of ferns and wild bushes edged by the bank that added a tropical flavour.
It was noon. The weather was varying intermittently and the sun was getting hotter now and we were sweating due to the scorching heat. But 'thanks to the waterfall' which cooled us and that lasted for a while.
And, it was the time to fill our hungry stomachs with some heavy food, but we had to wait for more time as we were seeking for the best place. Far away, a group of 10 nomads were also climbing steep paths to the northwest direction, carrying heavy sacks on their shoulders. The group included seven monks and three nuns who might be going to climb high mountains to find their residence or shelter. The old monks were walking briskly straight uphill while nuns were trying to approach them.
At one spot, we had been confused about the exact route to follow up as there were two routes in front of our eyes. In addition, it seemed an utterly bizarre place where we'd never kept our feet before, so we needed the company of a local person who could guide and usher our feet to our destination.
Fortunately, we encountered a man walking along the way towards us. He was a tall man but not too old, a man of around sixty, wore a blue shirt inside, blue windcheater and brown trousers. He was carrying a bag on his shoulder which looked a bit heavy that must have carried some required household grocery items. He looked as though he was a local villager who resided near the village and was returning back to his home.
A glow shone over our faces as we thought we met a right companion for our further journey and waited anxiously to reach close to us. When he was walking towards us, I noticed that he cheered, looking at us as if he knew that we were visitors and were seeking his help.
"Excuse me sir, we are visitors in this area and want to go Syaule gaun. Could you tell us the way to the village, please?" Som asked, stopping him.
"You three have lost your way and want to go to Panch Pokhari?" said the man, being anxious about us. "But, it's too far from here. How do you get to the top of a hill?"
"Sir, we'll go walking," Som replied.
"Oh! You three are going to trek Panch Pokhari ?"
"Yes sir," we said unanimously.
"It's a good idea to go to Panch Pokhari via this place because as far as I know this is an easy and best way to reach Panch Pokhari. Local people and tourists normally don't prefer it because most people think the path to be vulnerable and precarious. By the way, Panch Pokhari is a very wonderful place to enjoy holidays," the man explained.
I feared a little walking by this way after hearing the man's words as he defined the place and trail as vulnerable and risky.
I thought to cease my steps back owing to vulnerability in further journey, but I intended to accompany Som and Jeetu as they were just walking forward without any fear.
At the same time, the man told about Panch Pokhari thoroughly that it's one of the best places to encounter in the Spring season and spend holidays where numerous local tourists and foreign tourists visit. The beauty of the lush hills, white mountains, thick forests, tranquility of the area, local delectable food and its enigmatic cultures of various castes will cater some extensive untouchable facts about the place and of course, a new experience to our dull life. Not only this, the pure hearts of the villagers will offer extreme love, pampers, and generosity and warm company that are quiet enough to make our empty stomachs full and will give us imperishable memories.
"Boys, follow me. The route to your destination goes uphill from here, and you must walk around three and half hours continually," he added.
He was walking ahead of us briskly as the most villagers are accustomed to walking on steep paths. He was walking by instructing and giving important information about the place and the villagers on each and every step as a professional guide and we followed him quietly. I noticed he was walking so frantically with his long feet, his one long footstep was equal to our two footsteps and we were having difficulty in matching our steps to his.
"By the way, sir, where do you live?" Jeetu asked him.
"I live just near here in the upper village. It's half an hour walk, I'm going to be with you three only for half an hour, " he replied, smiling a little.
"Oh!" Jeetu exclaimed.
"Have you ever gone to Panch Pokhari, sir? I'm sure you might have gone," I asked.
"Many times, my boy! My most relatives reside in that village and I go especially on the time of Janai Purnima, The place holds a big fair at that time," the man replied.
We walked uphill for about half an hour with the man. We were covered by tall trees and wild bushes while we were walking through a trail so as to seek out short ways to get to the place in time.
I stumbled upon a stone due to smooth grass while holding it to take support. But 'Thanks to' the tiny branch of the small bush that held my weight and did not let me fall down, but I got pricked by a long thorn slightly. It gave a small scar on my right hand, while my friends had gone far ahead following the man.
Som turned back and noticed me arranging my bag and examining the scarred hand.
"Are you all right?" He asked.
"Yup! I'm ok," I replied.
"Hurry up bro!"
While accompanying him, we learned about the village. He told us about a temple also which is situated on the upper hill. It is too old and renowned across the country and was established many years ago by neither the people of the community nor any political leader but the predecessor of a Tamang family of the village, the most important fact is the first priest of the village came from that family.
Furthermore, the fact he added about the temple was that the person or devotee who has conviction over myths and god and goddess, his or her all wishes will be fulfilled if he or she worships, chants hymns and takes rounds of the while temple fortnight continually.
Here, every year, thousands of people visit for the puja ceremony on different festive occasions, and the place raises huge crowds during that time as the temple is regarded as the most pious and holy pilgrimage.
"What is the reason behind establishing that temple by the Tamang family?" Som asked curiously.
"I'm not sure, but it's said that there was an existence of bad evil and spirit in the family. The family's daughter was caught and controlled by a bad spirit sinisterly. The family had got her daughter treated by several witch doctors and priests, but she could not rehabilitate into old condition."
One day fortunately, one witch doctors from other village came by who seemed to know a lot about black magic hugely and how to control bad spirits, studied her thoroughly, got them do several formalities, organize ceremonies, and advised the head man that he could control the bad spirit only in one case if he would have founded a temple on her name near his residence.
The man did the same upon advice by the priest and founded a big temple in her daughter's name. From that day, she was, in actuality, freed from bad evil and recovered her life back and now the family's successors are still running the temple and taking ahead the cultures what their predecessors began.
"Unbelievably strange!" I murmured to myself.
"Such an unbelievable story!" Som mumbled.
"Yes! The unbelievable story of the village!" the man said.
"And, is this true that one's wishes would be fulfilled after worshipping there?" Som asked with great doubt.
"I've never tried but villagers say if we have a spiritual conviction on God and Goddess and do so, it may happen." the man said.
"And, what about your family, sir?" I asked him not with any curiosity this time, rather I would not make us feel bored because we had to walk some more time in this way.
He kept mum for a while. After few seconds, he broke his silence and uttered, "I've four members in a small house,"
I didn't understand why he took some time to respond to my question, but I read his face and assumed that he might think of something or any past incident that hit him badly.
The man had his wife with two daughters, one daughter in-law and her small kid. One of his daughters was eloped with a lower caste man from the same village while the younger one stayed at home without marrying. He did not mention his son as we noticed he had a daughter in- law and her kid also. We were sure that he must have a son also, but there was something wrong.
"What about your son, sir?" I asked.
"He died at the age of twenty eight just after two years of his marriage," he said, sobbing and remembering his dead son.
"Sorry sir! But what happened to him?"
"He had a brain tumor. I couldn't take him to Kathmandu hospital at the time because I was short of money," He repeated words, being sad.
I noticed when he was talking about his son, small drops of tears trickled down his face that reddened his small eyes.
"Now no one is in my family to earn and support financially after his death," the man said, wiping tears from his wrinkled pale face.
The family's domestic expenses supremely relied on the man's nominal pension and his hard work on the farm where his wife, younger daughter and daughter-in-law supported him. He spilled all the grief and miseries of his poor condition over our delicate hearts and made us too weep.
We could not do or say anything, just felt pity and showed our extreme sympathy for him and his helpless condition.
We walked with his support for more than half an hour and acquired some unknown information about the villages.
We arrived at a place which was divided into two routes. One route was a narrow trail while another was a wide sloppy path that goes uphill.
"La babu haru! I almost reached my residence and have to walk to the north west. I am leaving you three here, but you need to walk one and half hours more to the north." the man said.
"Thank you very much for your warm company," I said graciously.
The man lurched us on the narrow trail, but we wanted his company for a longer distance as a guide.
"You three are nice boys. Have a nice journey! Goodbye!" he said and walked northwest towards his home.
After he left us, we continued our journey advancing long footsteps hopefully to the north along the straight path as the man told us that we had around one and half hours more.