The smell of a roasted clutch plate is unmistakable in the Gypsy. We have been advised to avoid any unnecessary gear changes and as far as possible to drive in a high gear. So, on the slopes we are hurtling down recklessly and on the inclines we are crawling like an earthworm. It takes a great deal of skill to operate the vehicle but Jatin is equal to the challenge. Belying all expectations, we reach Kaza back safely and without external aid, and that is no mean achievement. What is clear, though, is that the Gypsy will need to be sent for urgent repairs in the morning, because the journey back is long and fairly treacherous. But these are concerns for another day… For the moment, there is the warmth of the homestay and its welcoming hosts.
When we get together at the homestay, everyone shares smiles of contentment … and relief. The expedition has achieved its climax and that is good reason to celebrate. At tea, the room is abuzz with the conversation about the exciting events of the day. A little later the party moves to the third-floor hall where the size of the ‘pegs’ being handed out is even more generous than the already extra large portions of the previous day. I decide to dub these super-Patiala pegs as ‘Puneet pegs’.
The story of Puneet pegs is thus – When we were partying in Sangla, Puneet announced that from next day onwards the altitude will rise sharply. To avoid overwhelming the body, it was recommended that drinkers should limit themselves to 2 drinks a night, henceforth. And while the number of drinks was capped, the size of the drink was left open to interpretation. In Nako, the size of the drink being poured, was a ‘generous large’ by standard measure. On the first night in Kaza, it was ‘Patiala’ by Indian standard measure on account of the extreme cold and today it has surpassed the Patiala standard, so naturally it calls for a new nomenclature. Introducing the new “Bold standard” of alcohol measures – The Puneet Peg.
As the Puneet pegs are being poured, a stranger enters the room quietly, looking like he is on a regular errand. He has a distinct long nose that is common in Himachal and J&K. He is wearing an ordinary checked shirt, a brown jacket, a white skull cap and baggy pyjamas. Puneet catches sight of him, calls out to him and invites him to join the party. In his soft spoken voice, Ayushman replies that he doesn’t drink alcohol. Puneet replies back stating that many people in the room don’t drink but everyone would love to hear him sing. He seems somewhat hesitant but agrees after some persuasion. He joins a couple of us seated on the floor and sits cross legged with the guitar resting on one leg.
At the sight of a musician joining the gathering, a small cheer goes up in the room. He looks around at the diverse gathering and says simply, “But I only know Himachali folk songs…” Puneet suggests that he explain the meaning of the song before he starts and then proceed to sing the song. All the conversations in the room halt and all eyes are on this folk singer. He thinks for a moment and then he announces that he will perform the folk song, Amma Puchhdi (Mother Asks). Then he asks which language everyone is most comfortable with – Hindi or English? We suggest English since Hindi is not the first language for some folks in the gathering.
So, in surprisingly eloquent English, he explains the meaning of the song. It is a dialogue between a mother and a daughter. The daughter is sad and the mother asks her the cause of her sadness. The daughter replies that the calls of a peacock in the forest don’t let her sleep. The protective mother suggests they call a gunman to shoot the peacock down. The daughter replies that by killing the peacock, it will be lost forever, so instead they should put him in a cage. Then the daughter asks the mother -Where do the moon and the stars go, where do the loved ones go? The mother answers that the stars and moon hide, but those we love never go anywhere.
With a final clarification that the peacock in the folk song is a metaphor for a lover, he begins to play. The song is a soft forlorn melody and the mellow velvety voice of Ayushman stirs the soul. I listen in rapt attention, allowing myself to be transported into the tale. When the song ends and I am reanimated back into the room, what strikes me is the ability of this simple music and the skill of the performer, to teleport us into a different dimension so effortlessly.
Ayushman, our folk hero, though is no ordinary resident. We are surprised to discover that he is a scholar who has been researching the socio-economic impact of roads on the local population of Spiti for his doctoral dissertation at a University in Germany! Though he hails from Kullu district in Himachal, he has studied in esteemed colleges in Delhi and London before joining a doctorate programme in anthropological studies in Germany.
After the folk session, one of the young members of the group, Varun, takes the guitar and he plays a couple of popular English numbers. When neither of us can do justice to the English numbers with the voice, on popular demand, Puneet returns to the centre and sings a few songs from the Bollywood’s golden era.
Eventually, the party breaks for dinner and today there is a special feast in store for us. We are served a dinner of homemade Momos and Noodles. It is one of the best dinners I have had in a long time. At dinner, we discuss the options for our broken vehicle. Though there is a mechanic for Gypsies in Kaza, no one is really sure if he will have the spare parts. And even if he does, we would have to spend more than half a day in Kaza while the car is repaired. That would make it difficult for us to make it to Kalpa the next day. The discussion goes on for a while. Ultimately, Puneet has the final word – He suggests we go ahead of the convoy and go as far as we can get… ideally up to Rekong Peo. That means we are hoping to cover a distance of 200 kms, through a treacherous terrain, navigating innumerable hairpin turns and the engine busting climb to Nako in a car that was barely able to do 20 kms today on a fairly level road! Maybe it is high altitude-induced delusion but everyone seems satisfied with that response and to my utter bafflement the conversation simply moves to a different subject.