EXPERIENCE
A ballad to the Himalayas
NIMI KURIAN
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Memoirs of life spent in a small village.
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Shaya Tales: Stories From a Himalayan Village; Bulbul Sharma, Penguin, Rs. 200.
"THERE is this lovely cottage with a small orchard in Himachal Pradsh, surrounded by dense deodar forests in the Lower Himalayas ... Total wilderness, a small stream runs through the orchard — which has 300 peach, almond and plum trees! We will grow aromatic herbs, lavender, lemon geraniums, gather medicinal plants growing wild in the forest ... " If this is not a glimpse of heaven, then nothing else will be.
Bulbul Sharma recounts her experience of living in a small Himalayan village in Shaya Tales. It was the dream of being able to live in this idyll that set her on the path to Shaya. But arriving after a long nine-hour drive from Delhi, the author and her family find themselves high up in the mountains, cold and hungry, "in the swiftly-gathering grey-black Himalayan darkness". Despite the initial mishaps, they settle down happily and are soon engrossed with their garden, the orchard and the lives of the village people. But the people here take time to get to know the strangers. "It took us 10 years to make Gita smile at us and another seven to make her laugh with us." They don't make hasty decisions.
Divided by the seasons
The book is divided by the seasons and each season has its special flavour. The book begins with "Spring", with the claim that the "scorpions are the first one to know that winter is over and spring is about to roll in". Spring, says Sharma, brings out the best in Shaya and she too decides to do some planting. The description of life and colour slowly creeping back into the hills after the winter has a touch of poetry and the lines linger in your memory long after the book has been read.
In "Summer", Sharma describes the stream that flows down from the higher mountains. By the time it reaches Shaya it has changed from its "icy blue-green to a warm, pale brown". The stream flows right below their hut, so they live with the constant sound of the gurgling stream and watch the sunlight glint off the waters, as monkeys, birds and insects hover around. The hut is situated in such a strategic position that the people in the villages of Neri and Shaya know exactly what Sharma and her family are up to. With the end of summer everyone is waiting for the rains. In "Rains", Sharma talks of how the people wait for the rain and can talk of nothing else. Each one gives his/her own prediction — the way the clouds travel, the colour of the clouds, the direction of the winds and so on. It is time to tell rain stories — how the villagers prayed for it, how Shamu the carpenter played the drums all day without a break and the importance of the rainmaker.
After the rains
"The rainy season has at last departed from the hills of Shaya, although some small dark clouds linger on." It's "Autumn" now. The soil is "rich, black and moist". The village is once again alive and there is ploughing to be done and winter crops to be sown. This is the time to celebrate a unique festival called Lankadaman, in honour of Hanuman. The entire village is lit up with tiny earthenware lamps. It's almost like Deepavali.
And finally there is "Winter", when the "mountains are at war with the cold weather". As winter progresses it gets colder, the apple and peach trees in the orchard look fragile and bitter. The cold makes the village quiet. Electricity has come to Shaya and so people can watch television or listen to the radio. And now the hillside is twinkling with the bright light from the houses.
A remarkable account of one woman's life in a small Himalayan village and her need to be in constant touch with Nature. It is indeed a ballad to the hills.
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