It was the third day of our journey and that made us now too weary and hungry but we could not stop our footsteps because we knew we had to walk miles.
I looked at my wrist watch and it struck almost a quarter past one. On the way, we encountered an old lady who seemed age of sixty and looked like a sherpa woman. She wore an old and shaggy dress, which seemed a typical traditional dress of her community; a length of patterned cloth wrapped around her waist to form a long skirt and short-sleeved shirt. She was so thin and skinny, certainly needed our support as she was struggling with her loads to carry on her back.
She saw us and called out, "Chhora haru! malai yo bhaar bokna Saghau!"
We frantically dashed to her. Som and Jeetu held tha heavy loads of wood and put gently on her back. And, both of them supported holding the loads of wood until she had been able to carry all loads properly. The load was too heavy for her, which was tied with a thin jute rope that might break at any time. She was lean but looked like a strong lady and she easily carried such heavy loads, and I was still thinking of how she could manage that all till her home.
We walked briskly with her, following a soiled and dusty path. We're receiving all information from her also about the village, local people, their ethnicities, and their incessant pains and sufferings.
She was keeping her every step being very cautious because heavy loads were disbalancing her footsteps and we were sure that the loads would cheat her on the way at any time.
But, we were really surprised to see her because she was however walking flamboyantly ahead on her way, carrying heavy loads on her back.
To see her poor and helpless condition, my eyes burst into tears and showed all mercy on her. I was thinking that anyone must be there to help her; like her son or husband or someone else, but really sad, noone was there.
Som was walking next to her so as to support in case of untying and falling loads of wood down.
"Aama, tapai eti budhi hunun xa esto gaaro kaam garna ko lagi, hajur ko pariwar ma koi saghauna ko lagi xaina?' Som asked.
"K garnu, chhora? Ma thulo abhagi pare, koi chhaina," she said sadly.
She told me that her husband had gone to foreign country to earn money and had never returned back. Many years passed by, but she had no news about him; he was either dead or alive. She had only one child aged 21 whom she loved so much. He'd been disabled by birth. His disability didn't let him walk or make any movement. And, she had no relatives near to help her and her disabled son.
She had become so emotional while uttering the words and dropped some priceless tears on her pale cheeks.
After hearing her words, we also felt pity on her and realized that life is very hard for the people in the villages. They have unbearable pains and sufferings. Each family in the village has their own struggling life and painful stories. Thinking of the villagers' hard and troublesome life, my delicate heart also burst and tears fell down on my cheeks. I noticed Som and Jeetu also had tears in their eyes and were hiding from me.
Listening to her words, Som became so despondent by himself and the worldly life and sympathetic and emotional to the lady.
"Aama, hajur ko dukha ra pida hamro dukha ra pida ho, tara hami pani kamjor xau ra kei garna sakdainau," Som said. "Bhagwan le hajur lai taagat deun!"
She blessed us and abandoned us on the way as she turned towards a small and narrow path and walked away to her home.
We hurried and continued our journey with our long footsteps. We were desperately seeking at least a tea- shop but sought none. However, our sights caught a group of white tourists; There were 7 people including two women. They all were tall and healthy men and women who were seemingly making their way back to the city after a long trek. They were wobbling downhill steadily, chattering among them in not English but in their own language. It seemed they came from the same country for mountain trekking this Spring. They were gazing at us as they were perplexed about the routes which to go. One of them slid near us and stopped our ways.
"Hello gentleman! Could you tell us where this straight way goes please?"
"Yea sure! This path goes to Syaule gaun downhill. By the way! Where do you have to go?" I said.
"Actually, we have to walk back to Thampal Dhap," he added.
"We're also visitors. I'm sorry! We don't know this place,"
"Som, do you have any idea which way goes to Thangpal kot?" I asked Som as I thought he might know the place.
"No, I also don't have any idea. I've never gone," Som replied.
"We're sorry! But you can take help from friendly local people, they must help you to meet your destination," I said.
"Never mind! Anyways thanks for your time!" the man replied, shaking hands with us and moved back to join his group.
They waved cheerily and walked along the narrow path downhill.
We were walking forward ahead promptly to the northwest and we came by a narrow roadside.
At the corner of the road, we saw a tap. We quickly dashed towards it as we needed water very badly to wash faces first. We washed our faces with cold water in the tap that was being supplied through a black thin pipeline directly from the hillside. The water comes from hills that are clean, cold, and purely drinkable.
After some walks, we spotted a few tea stalls on the edge of the road and some were at the corner side a little up.
We proceeded to one of the tea stalls on the edge which was run by an old lady of about 65. The stall was open and just had a large table for keeping a stove, containers for tea, sugar, and cookies and candies, and a few plastic cups. Moreover, it had a long wooden bench and three stools. We occupied the stools and sat on, ordering three cups of tea.
An old woman served us tea with smiles.
"Chhora haru, chya lau," she said, placing three cups of tea on the table gently.
The taste of tea was so sweet that we finished in very little time. After drinking tea, we walked on our way.
After an hour's walk, Som seemed to have confusion again over the right path as we spotted three different routes; one route was going downhill, another was a narrow trail and the third route was a road.
"Guys! I'm a little confused about the right path. I guess we need to go through the narrow trail. But we must ensure and take help from someone," he said.
Fortunately, we saw a small girl collecting dry hays and grasses and cutting green grasses near an open green pasture where, we guessed, she left her sheep and other cattles for grazing.
The girl looked like a poor Tamang girl who lived somewhere near the meadows. She seemed to be about thirteen years old with a red and smooth face and short messy hair.
I made a guess that she might know about the path and escort us to the right path, so we glided near her stopping her way.
She was a small and ignorant village girl, but she knew clearly the way to our destination and pointed out the narrow dusty and soiled trail to the east.
I talked to the girl and asked her about her family. She also had her own story which was really strange and unbelievable.
The thing she shared about her and her family with us that was completely hurtful, and we were taken aback. We could not believe our ears for at least a couple of minutes and got frozen at the same place as the land under our feet had slid. After the man and the old lady, her words also brought some more tears again in our eyes.
She told us that she was living alone now with her younger brother in a small house near the forest after her dear parents' death. She lost her mother first who died of diarrhoea when she was just nine, then father just six months ago. Her father had been suffering from paralysis disease for a long time. It meant that she had all responsibilities on her small and tender shoulders to bear all domestic expenses and take care of the house and her younger brother.
She added that she had merely a few relatives now, but they also lived far away on a high mountain where she had to walk miles on foot and could barely walk for their help.
I wanted to help the girl by handing her some money, but I was almost going to run out of money. But Jeetu rummaged through his pocket quickly and put a couple of notes of five hundred on her palm though that amount was not sufficient for her, it could just mean a little.
"Thank you daai!" she said with a little happiness and walked away, carrying a doko with loads of wood and green grasses and driving out her cattles back to their sheds.
She perhaps had been half ecstatic by our help but still might have felt stiff and helpless as noone was there in her family to guide and take care of her, she was just thirteen years old. However, she was scampered by a neighbor girl of her same age who was carrying a heavy steel water jar which was staggering her with its load
The girl might reside near her home Which went by a narrow path uphill.
Down the field, a line of enormous pigs also drew our trance towards it which were grunting and shuffling into a sty outside near a small hut.
"Life is really tough for the village people, though they live a healthy life being closer to nature and being in a peaceful and quite environment. But life is even tough for the girl whose parents died while they both were just small," Som remarked, being so emotional and sympathetic to that girl and other villagers.
"Yea! really tough, full of pains and sufferings," I said.
"Oh God! Please help that girl and her brother. Who is here to help them?" Som said. "Nobody, except you."
Thinking of the pains, sufferings, and hard lives of the villagers, we three headed towards and continued our journey.
It was midday and it had been time to take lunch as we were feeling extremely hungry and thirsty and could wait no longer for food, so we stopped by a small hotel named 'Meetho Hotel' which seemed not too expensive, but we hoped that they would offer delicious food as per its name. We entered in full of hunger and empty stomachs and snuggled into a comfy table. There were some local people too inside the hotel who were there to drink local wines, but we were only the outsiders there.
Local people of the village were enjoying being fully drunk, chattering with each other, and some were drinking and murmuring to themselves as they were off their work.
Meanwhile, we ordered whatever delicious local foods were available in the hotel. A woman of about forty who was a little chubby and tall, took the order. I guessed she might be the wife of the hotel owner as they chatted casually with each other like a husband-wife does.
After some time, the woman came with food and placed them on the table. The steel thalis contained regular food rice and dal. Along with them, there were some more delicious food items included; local chicken curry, mint chutney, aloo fried, and green salads. The food was so delicious that it made us smack our lips with its taste.
After having had food, we stood by a large maple tree near the hotel where we could release all our fatigues. We were standing by the tree and conversing with each other about the village and local people and simultaneously our minds turned to another point. That was our long trek because we had to meet some more distances to complete today's trek and hazards to tackle aptly.
Along the steep path ahead, a long suspension bridge could be seen in front of our eyes which was narrow, weak, and terribly dangerous, made up of long bamboo and joined with irons. Down the bridge, there was a river gushing into the downstream with gurgling sound and with perfect consistency as It feeds this place, quenches the thirst of the mighty beings rooted to the rich soil. It flows through the forest, welcoming stray flora that came its way and at the edges, it pleads with the rich soil to join the cool water to form a river bed.
The water dropped close to the hillside and rushed down. The water was cool and refreshing, for it was slipping down from the mountains by the huge rocks. The water was lined with woods, trees, and hedgerows fresh and green with every spring, carrying by their roots the debris of winter's flooding.
The air was rich and thick with the fragrance of leaves and dampness that we inhaled in the early spring. The sky had vanished almost thoroughly, only a few fragments of blue sky remain.
I feared to see the condition of the bridge as I'd never walked along such a terrible bridge in my entire life. For others, it could be easier to walk through this kind of bridge because they might have been accustomed to passing such a bridge, but it was really a toughest task to do for me.
Jeetu and Som were comfortably walking along the bridge without any fear though it looked like it could be broken down at any time as it was dangling side by side like a pendulum clock. They two easily reached and were on the other edge from where they were shouting, calling and joking at me. I just stayed still at the same place and could not dare even to put my feet on the bridge thinking of how to cross the bridge. But instantly, I recalled one interesting proverb 'cross that bridge when you come to' which has precisely a direct meaning and is applied in this situation.
When I tried to do so, I just got stuck at the place as if someone was pulling and not letting me move ahead.
"Som, what are you doing? Come quickly,"
They shouted from another edge.
"I'm not able to," I responded.
"C'mon Sami! Nothing will happen. You think it's loose and breakable. No, it's not. You can easily walk" Som said, encouraging me.
"Okay! I'll try,"
I was still terrified to walk along, but being strong and fearful, I put my one foot on the deck. As soon as I did it, the bridge started to move side by side and a fear shivered through my whole body.
I dared and again put my feet apprehensively, but I walked this time along the deck of the bridge slowly and consciously, taking supports of thin iron, though it was suspending and moving, and after all I got to the other end where my two friends already were.
"Are you all right?" Jeetu asked.
"Yea! I'm all right," I replied, having problems breathing.
"Thank god! You tried otherwise I thought one of us had to come to carry you on the shoulder," Jeetu said sarcastically.
"Maybe not! But seriously! What kind of bridge this is," I remarked.
"You are going to encounter several of these kinds of bridge In the villages. This is just a simple sample," Som added.
"Hope we may not have to walk through this kind of ...," I said.
It was almost dusk. The chirping birds were flying back to their nests after gathering food, the shepherds were making their cattles back to their sheds which seemed they were full with stomachs, chewing grasses, the peasants were walking back tired carrying spades and axes and finishing the day's work on the farms, and the womenfolk were returning home carrying loads of grasses or woods.
"I guess we almost reached Panch Pokhari, didn't we?" I asked.
"Yea almost! But, yet to walk some more steps," said Som, wiping perspiration from his forehead.
'Thank god! Feeling too tired now," I added.
"Me too," Jeetu mumbled.
It was about three when we reached Golche village, trailing the route dotted by varieties of rhododendron. It is at the altitude of 1788 km above sea level. From Golche village, we had to walk some more minutes.
We were high on the top of a hill, away from the suffocation and pollution.
On the way to Panch Pokhari from Golche, the colourful prayer flags which the Buddhist mantra 'om padme mani hum' might have carved on, dangling down the trees which were tied along them with thin threads and flaring and dancing upside down freely in the wind.
Golche is a small and beautiful village, having a population around 2,000, where villagers toil on the field whole day, growing seasonal crops, vegetables, maize, wheat, barley, and so on. They sell them to the market.
The life of a village is hard. They can fill the needs of their stomachs in any way but can barely fulfill their children's needs.
So, again sympathy and generosity were dropping down upon villagers' hard lives.
We were now just 500 meter away from reaching our destination Panch Pokhari. Though it had been a tumultuous and weary journey to us, the cold temperature, high altitude, and the scent of the yellow blossoms along the way made our journey exciting.