Dreams come true in Barot Valley!

Occasionally, you find yourself in a creative rut. It takes something challenging to break out of it. In my experience, not knowing what lies ahead usually helps.

Every story is unique because of the choices we make. Even if you think it's the same, that one road you took that is less traveled by, the one decision to sit at the sunset point while you write a story like I'm doing right now, that split second of passage you missed. All of these factors make all the difference in the world. They give a special flavor to your journey.

So I wonder what are those choices that villagers make? What are the factors that make their journey personal? Are they aware of what prioritizing balance in life is like? Do they ever take breaks? Amidst making a life, collecting wood, preparing for the winters, what really belongs to them? All of it, slices of it, or nothing at all?

The beautiful hills of Barot may not have helped me break out of my rut, but they did allow me to discover yet again why I love the hills so much.

This small, picturesque hamlet offers trout fishing, dense deodar woods, and a glistening stream known as Uhl that flows through the village.

Fun fact: On the way to Barot Valley, through Jogindernagar village, there’s a mysterious stream that flows all the way from the apex of a mountain, that gushes out saltwater. I tasted it to only then realize how insane that was!

We were welcomed into the valley with a bike breakdown and delicious paranthas. I mean, is your journey even complete if you haven’t experienced bike breakdowns?

What did not amuse me, however, was how every local around the area rushed towards us and called out for help, and what gets me every single time is how unexplored, untouched, and untarnished these villages are.

Having set out on a sunny day after a series of cloudy, dull, foggy, rainy mornings and nights, we came across a couple of ancient-looking villages every now and then next to bridges and diversions.

Some people were basking in the glorious rays of the sun while some ran outside to dry their utensils and clothes. We snacked and ate for about two hours before we set out to see an old age tunnel, a masterpiece of human engineering built by the British, that diverted river water to a hydropower station.

Our group of 6, then headed off to a less popular village known as Polling. Located at the base of the majestic Danseur trek, the village affords spectacular views of snow-capped mountains, a rich cultural heritage, and a herd of sheep that is fearless.

To get to Polling, we drove through Lohardi and paused briefly there to play with ice sheets and emotions. I am kidding you. We only played with ice ;).

We also went fishing. It was someone in the group who knew what to do and taught us how to do river fishing. Although it looked cool, it wasn’t all that exciting for me.

I always get a kick out of watching Hollywood movies where someone is fishing by the stream. But, I had quite the opposite experience when I attempted it myself.

So I set out instead to hop through stones and chase the sun.

Polling is only accessible by foot and so a bit ahead of the village, we had to stop because of the snow-covered roads.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, two of us from the group climbed a steep ridge to meet with the rest of the group at the common point. That brief experience, however, presented my palms with thorns and a pleasant adrenaline rush. The panting, fear, choices, and slips made me realize why I love doing this.

As we proceeded through the GOT-like set, we came across this patch of land that made me feel like the actress in Rahman’s “Pudhu Velai Mazhai”, except I dare not wear a saree in that knee-deep snow.

Following a river crossing on some uneven rocks, we climbed a snow-covered uphill with carefully engineered steps. This path, in particular, took us to some breathtaking views while bringing out the silly, playful side in us. A patch where we could slide. We slid all the way down.

Vishal, one of the 6 among us, also the only Pahadi, taught us how to do it. I couldn’t stop giggling throughout that experience as he pushed me with grit and playfulness. Some of us fell, some slid, some crashed and landed. But it was all worth it.

It was also my sister’s birthday and she turned 23 that night. She was welcomed into her “Day” with a creamy cake. Who would have seen something like this coming, especially from a bunch of strangers-turned-friends, in the middle of nowhere!

All of us set out to a waterfall the next day. It was quite fascinating to climb boulders to witness the massive beauty that it was. The waterfall had this familiar bold roaring personality to it. It wouldn’t just let you visit her that easy, but when you do, it cuddles you with its dreamy magical coldness, it’s absolutely breathtaking — the experience!

Attracting and chasing these experiences in a village as tiny as Barot gifted us with a jar of memories and a polaroid that we could take back home!

While I pen this down, a lover is sharing his stories with his partner, a dog is training a pup with his leash, a guy is walking past me trying to form his territory for the evening, a group of guys is, swiftly playing with their friend’s wheelchair with laughter, there are 2 paragliders gliding and setting as the sun sets and I bid goodbye to the best thing we have in the winters here, the mild winter breeze that gushes past my face.