Mana, The Last Village of India

Blame it on my gypsy soul and itchy feet that I can’t stop thinking about travelling when I am confined to the city. An old boarding pass or a bag yet to be unpacked, memories of a long forgotten trip, or a random fridge magnet – they all remind of the stories that I still need to write. Today, one such story from the Last Village of India will finally see the light of the day. The trek to Valley of Flowers last year was life-altering in a lot of ways. Today’s story is one of the reasons why I came back a changed person. On the last day of the trek, we decided to visit the temple town of Badrinath before heading to Auli. A couple of kilometres from the temple is a small village called Mana which is also the last village of India.This village in the lap of Himalayas is so pretty and peaceful it seems to be straight out of an exotic travel book. Beyond Mana lies a no-man’s-land, crossing which the boundaries of China begin.

There is a road which brings you to the army check post of Mana village and beyond that, one needs to walk uphill. After trekking in the Himalayas for six days already, my legs had given up on me. With a broken toe-nail and swollen feet which refused to fit in my shoes anymore, I was a little apprehensive about walking another step, let alone a hike, albeit a short one. But then wanderlust overpowered my travel hungry soul and I decided to walk. Soon, we saw a gate, welcoming us to Mana, India’s Last Village.

Excitedly, I entered the premiss of the village along with a few others who had come this far. The neighbouring Badrinath Temple being a  major crowd puller, there were not many people here. But the views of the higher ranges of the Himalayas were much much better from this quiant little village than from the crowded temple town. River Alaknanda criss-crossing through the mountains makes a pretty picture and is the centre piece of the ecosystem of the place.

The narrow mountain path had small huts on one side and pretty views on the other. I ran into this granny who was  enjoying the sunshine while weaving caps from wool, sitting outside her hut. The caps were all so pretty that I wanted to buy them all on impulse. But then I settled for one, and this souvenir from Mana, the last village of India came back home with me. The lady was camera shy, and she let me click a picture only because I bought that cap from her.

The Himalayas are so much more than just mountains, they are a culture, a way of life, a passionate love affair and so much more. If only I had the space or the courage to carry these Himalayan carpets. I still regret not buying one of these. The weavers hardly get anything out of these pretty things they make, and we go and shell out huge amounts of money to help FabIndias and Anokhis of the country to flourish. I bet you can’t find such fine pieces in any showroom ever. These are the designs of the Himalayas, carpets with a part of someone’s heart and soul.  If I had the right sense to buy one of them, I am sure today it would have been my magic carpet which could fly me to the Himalayas whenever I wished. If only.

Walking through the village,a chance encounter with this yogi made me realise that Himalayas are best experienced from places which are not on the tourist map. His abode, a small cave budging out of the mountain, was filled with everything he might need during the day. I am not sure if this was a permanent home or was he just a traveller like us, but he seemed to belong to the place he had claimed his own. He was happy to pose for all the cameras out there, in exchange for something to eat or money to buy food( hopefully).

Though not many people know about Mana, the last village of India, the place has many a mythological stories associated with it. The mighty Pandavas, after winning the war of Mahabharata crossed the village on their way to heaven. It is here that they had to cross the mystical river Saraswati. To make it easier for Draupadi to cross the river, Bhim lifted a huge rock and made a bridge out of it. They were all able to move further and cross the river using this bridge which came to be known as Bhim-Pul.

As of today, river Saraswati is non-existent. Though it has been mentioned forty five times in the Vedas, there is no river which fits the description, origin and path taken by Saraswati to reach the sea, as mentioned in the texts. It could have dried through the years, or it could have changed course, it’s still an unsolved mystery. Many believe that Saraswati became a sleeping river, and now flows beneath the ground to reach Sangam, where it meets rivers Ganga and Yamuna. Looking at the Bhim-Pul, I wanted to agree to the legend of a sleeping river. The gushing water behind these huge stones is that of river Saraswati, which flows inside the mountain. There is no way that this water is meeting up river Alaknanda, since its volume remains constant before and after it crosses the Bhim-Pul. People of Mana worship river goddess Saraswati, and believe it to be the source of life here. It may be part legend, part real, but, for a change, my heart is set on the legend and I want to believe it. There is no other explanation for what you see in the picture below. There is no source, no destination, it is just a huge volume of water coming from no where and rushing to nowhere. It might as well be the mystic river Saraswati.

From the Bhim Pul many higher Himalayan peaks are visible, including the Swarga-Rohini Peak which is supposed to be the one which Pandavas had to traverse, to reach heaven. According the Mahabharata, the Pandavas, along with Dhaupadi started the journey uphill but it was only the eldest brother Yudhishthir who survived and reached the peak. The rest of them didn’t survive the mountain. Yudhishthir arrived on the gates of heaven along with a dog, which had accompanied him all the way. A chariot had come to pick the man, but he insisted that the dog be picked up first. Apparently, this was a final test and the dog wasn’t really a dog but God himself disguised as a dog. Yudhishthir passed the test and was taken to heaven.

The story intrigued me and I started enquiring about it. One of our guides opened up and told me that the trek to Swarga-Rohini is an adventure of a lifetime. Invariably, a dog accompanies trekkers on the trail. It vanishes on some bends, comes back on some other bends. But, when you reach the summit, it is always there with you. Always.

While my mind could not really decipher if it was a legend or a reality, I made a note of adding the Swarga Rohini trek to my bucket list. Even though I am very afraid of dogs, I know I want to do this trek someday. With aching legs and swollen feet, another trek should be the last thing I should have cared about. But then I knew I’ll do it for the stories.

Yet another story was staring at me from behind the Bhim-Pul. The last shop of India. Tea, anyone?