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India and Nepal 1987

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Dharamsala

Sunday 13th September (Day 10)

Back down to Jammu on an ‘A' class bus (Rs53). Much more awake, and saw more this time (map in film logbook). I like the monkeys sitting beside the road (especially at "Monkey Point") waiting for drivers to throw them bread. Reddish hair, very nimble. Some had young, one I caught a glimpse of between tree and wall (but not with the camera).

More beacons:

"My curves are gorgeous - drive on them smoothly."

"Feel horny on bends. Horn."

"Beep, beep, don't fall asleep."

We saw a truck on its side. Probably the driver had fallen asleep.

Jammu - pretty ropey. Hotel -very ropey ("India Pride" - Rs20 a double, with geckos and bedbugs. Had a light meal in the "Hotel Cosmopolitan" - nice lassi, tea, soup, pakora.

Monday 14th September (Day 11)

Rs35 in a ‘B' class bus to Dharamsala. It felt good to get out of the dry, dusty plain into hilly, green surroundings. Saw rice in paddy fields, tea, bamboo, bananas, palms, cactus, marijuana (growing wild), a plant with tea-like leaves and pretty orange or red/yellow flowers [lantana]. Some bits were really lovely - a grassy clearing in a forest, below us in a curve of the road, with a stream running through it, and a boy leading a few cows.

We are now, after a few problems (like being caught in a thunderstorm) installed in a Tibetan cafe in McLeod Ganj (Dharamsala), eating (and very much enjoying) banana pancakes, chocolate cake, lemon tea, hot chocolate, banana milk shake etc, and listening to Fleetwood Mac. It's obviously a legacy of all the hippies who came here in the 60s and 70s, but we love it. We really were getting tired of Indian food.

This is a lovely place - stunning views, quiet, peaceful. No beggars or pushy salesmanship. The Tibetans are lovely - they really show up the Indians (who carry out unwanted services, then ask for money, like the man who helped me down with the bags from the roof of the bus). The cafe is the "Cafe Shabhala". It has only four tables, a star map and a print of a nineteenth century European tapestry on the wall. It has honey and a shelf of books for sale.

Later - now in the "Friends Bar" drinking Golden Eagle Lager Beer and writing postcards. Eric Clapton singing "I Shot the Sheriff" on the tape. I wrote a little poem about Delhi. Here it is:

Noisy, dirty, smelly Delhi,
Famous home of Delhi belly.
Pavements full of sleeping bodies,
Gutters full of drifting jobbies.
Beggars at my sleeves are clutching,
Cathy's in the toilet retching.
Horses covered in open sores,
Cripples glimpsed through open doors.
The heat is incapacitating.
Oh, for a bath, but I'm still waiting.
The hotel we're in is really cheap.
So it should be, it's such a heap.
I'm sure fed up of being here,
I think I'll head up to Kashmir.

There are many advantages to this little place:

  • Temperature - shirtsleeve environment, well into the evening. No sweating.
  • Tibetans - quiet, friendly, good-looking (especially when they smile, which is often).
  • The views - incredible perspectives, both up to the mountains and down to the plain below.
  • Food. Western. Let's face it, we like Indian food on occasion, but not slop every day (Their fried things are good, though, eg fried bread on the bus trip).
  • Music. Tibetan bells, or rhythmic crashing, or Western tapes. No Indian wailing.
  • Shops. They don't babble at you. No hard sell.
  • Accommodation. Clean and cheap (Rs40 a double).

Tuesday 15th September

4pm. At the graveyard of St John's in the Wilderness. Examples of the stones (crosses - poignant) -

"Sacred to the memory of Captain James Muscroft, 1st Gurkha Rifles. Killed by the earthquake at Dharmsala 4th April 1905, aged 34 years."

"In memory of John Smith, H.M.81st L.L.V. who died August 13th 1875 aged 24. Also of Eli Warra, H.M.81st L.L.V. who died August 13th 1875 aged 16. Thy will be done. Erected by their fellow soldiers."

"In Memory of Florence Mary, the Beloved Daughter of Thomas Conway, and Frances Mary, Vaughan. Born 17th December 1867. Died 2nd June 1880. She is not dead but sleepeth."

The church is still in use - worship is every Sunday at 11am - "Peoples of all religions are most welcome". The steeple came down in the earthquake of 1905. The roof is sheathed outside in galvanised corrugated iron, but inside most of it looks original. It has the exact quiet, reverential atmosphere of a church back home - a haven of peace and tranquillity. It has a memorial plaque to men killed in the 1914-18 war (and Baluchistan 1919), and several In Memoria plaques to individuals, eg:

"In loving memory of Thomas William Knowles who met with his death at Dharamsalla by an attack from a bear on the 25th October 1883 aged 50 years."

"In Affectionate Memory of Major Henry Darrell Minchington, M.C., aged 39 years, who was killed in a climbing accident on the "Mun" on 3rd June 1927." [The "Mun" is in the Alps, I believe.]

"In affectionate memory of Captain J.L. Barry, M.B.E., 1st K.G.O. Goorka Rifles, who died at Moffat on 21st January 1924, aged 25 years, on the Eve of his Marriage. This tablet is erected by his fiancee Eleanor Constance Rundall and his brother officers."

The church was built in 1852 and closed 40 years ago. It is the oldest church in Northern India. Roof was slate originally. 110 years ago Iain McLeod was C.O. of the Gurkha Rifles based at Dharamsala. After the earthquake a new bell was provide from London in 1915, but never installed. It is on a plinth outside - 400kg and 9 kinds of metal. An earthquake killed 20,000 people here in 1986 (if my notes are right). On April 26th this year there was a smaller earthquake. The first permanent pastor of this church is telling us all this. The church was for officers of the Gurkha Rifles, 423 graves in the graveyard, 40 were killed in the 1905 earthquake.

(Pastor, Kunjumon K J.
Kochuparambil House, Kuzhipura Yidom,
Manarcad (P.P.), Kottayam. District Kerala, India.)

The pastor is from Kerala. The British moved their capital from Dharamsala to Simla.

Later - dinner at the Om Restaurant - Too-Fu-Momo (steamed). Little parcels of a simple flour/water paste, stuffed with Tofu and vegetables and pinched together like little Cornish pasties. Good with soy sauce. Finished with Banana Rice Pudding. Total cost Rs13.50 (61p) with a lemon lassi. Lassi is Rs3.50 here, compared with Rs9 at the Volga in Delhi.

Wednesday 16th September

Desh Raj Negri
c/o Lala Narotam Shopkeeper
Sheguli bazar
Banjas P.O. Banjas
Distt Kullu (H.P.)
PIN - 175123

The address above is that of a 21-year old Indian student of science. He's studying for his B.Sc. at Lower Dharamsala, then he does his M.Sc. at Simla, and may do an M.Phil. there as well. His speciality is optics.

I'd been wanting to meet an educated Indian to tell me about the country, and Desh fitted the bill exactly. He told me about the drought, the poor education (only 30% literacy, including those who can only sign their own name. Only one in 1000 has any English). In common with many other students (and not only in India) he is a Communist and is studying Marxism alongside his Physics (oh, dear). He intends to visit Russia, like his uncle who married a Russian girl. I was relieved to hear that he thought the Communists will gain power through the parliamentary process and not through violent revolution. He said he was an atheist, because of his socialism, so it came as a surprise when he suddenly said, "Do you believe in Palmistry?" He enthusiastically examined our palms, predicting long lives, health, wealth, happiness, the usual stuff. What a joke.

Our walk was to the waterfall on the road to Bhagsu. Lovely, cool, clear water, and good views. I walked down to Dharamsala to get our bus tickets for tomorrow, and saw vultures and a mongoose. The vultures were perched on a tree, or endlessly circling, as is right and proper for vultures. The mongoose was dead.

I met the girls on the way back, and Cathy and I had a drink (lemon lassi in my case, lemonade in Cathy's) sitting on the roof of the Om, looking out over the green plain below (not the main Indian plain, but one at a higher level). Afterwards we walked to the Hotel Bhagsu to look at the mountains. The sunset was lovely (no film).

We met Mary and Elaine for cheese omelettes, soup and banana lassis at the Green Hotel, and from there we've proceeded to the Shabhala Cafe for banana pancakes, chocolate cake and apple pie.

Cathy gave me a joss-stick holder with the Hindu symbol for "Om" on it. I've bought another, simpler one, a shoulder bag (for Irene) and two bootleg tapes - Beatles White Album and Grace Jones - Island Life.

More wildlife (or tame) - monkeys, even in the village. Lots of dogs - they look very well treated but people aren't above giving them a kick up the bum if they get in the way. The puppies are lovely. There's a cat which seems to live near the big prayer wheel in the centre of town. We saw a huge, hairy caterpillar eating a leaf, but an old Tibetan fellow warned us in sign language (very graphical) not to touch it or our stomachs would swell up and we would fall over. The slugs are horrible here - like mobile jobbies.

I really don't want to go back to Delhi, especially not on a ‘B' class bus leaving at 4am (70 ruples). Never mind - apparently there are more Tibetans in Darjeeling and Nepal, but it'll take a lot to beat this.

The little lad in Shabhala's has the air of a slightly-defeated housewife.

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