Of Manali's Safe Haven

We started on 21st December 2018, which was a Friday. Our bus departed from Majnu Ka Tilla at 9.05 p.m. – and when I say 9.05, I mean sharp at 9.05 p.m. My boyfriend had given the idea of having a scrumptious dinner at one of the eateries in Majnu Ka Tilla. I was quite thrilled about gorging on good food but thanks to the mad traffic near Red Fort, I had to make do with some roadside chicken momos.

The inside of the bus was oh-so-comfortable and as soon as we sat on our respective seats, we couldn’t stop giggling at each other. My boyfriend, Abhijit, constantly checked the temperature in Manali and my heart literally pounced against its walls in excitement.

Past midnight, the bus stopped in Kurukshetra for dinner. We devoured North-Indian delicacies, which quite frankly we are tired eating of and headed to our bus – all within 30 minutes. At this time, the bus helper handed all the passengers a plastic bag. Baffled, I asked him the reason and he replied, “In case you feel pukish.” Now, this was a sign that the rocky, mountain roads will commence soon. I had taken an anti-vomit pill when the bus left Delhi and decided that the best way to avoid any mess is to fall asleep.

Cut to the chase, the bus stopped at 7.00 a.m. again at Pandoh Dam in Himachal Pradesh. Yes, we finally reached the pristine state. The helper informed us that we have 20 minutes to finish our breakfast. I didn’t pay any attention to the time limit and was only busy breathing in the overwhelming beauty that lay before my eyes: Beas river.

When I stepped my feet on the road, my shoe got covered in mud. I reckoned that it must have rained the previous night. The weather was pleasant and the cold still felt bearable. Soon, we were surrounded by screaming drivers who asked us the name of our hotel. We were unsure if they’d be aware of a hostel, so we told them about Manu Temple – the landmark.

As Indians and especially as two Bengalis from Kolkata, we couldn’t give up our awesome bargaining skills. Hence, we convinced a driver to drop us at our hostel in Rs.300. He had initially demanded Rs.400. Score!

Our first café pick was Café 1947. We entered to a somewhat warm atmosphere of the cafe, but with Beas flowing right beside it, I suggested that we sit outside. Although I enjoyed the view, the cold wave literally bit my bones. It didn’t matter how problematic it was for me to use my phone with the gloves on, there was no way I could take them off.

We looked like miniature hulks with uncountable layers of clothes on us. The walk from Manu temple to Mall road is 3km. We walked past a public park that with its tall trees had an eerie sense to it. Once we reached the Mall road, it seemed like another place in Hauz Khas in Delhi. The place was highly commercialised and even had food corners selling typical North-Indian dishes. We kept looking the various nooks of the market in search of some authenticity. Unfortunately, other than the handicrafts and souvenir shops, there was none.

The place had fresh and young vibes with an in-house DJ playing music while sipping on a beer. We ordered continental dishes and got busy playing “Guess the word.” The food arrived in no time and it was absolutely mouth-watering – every bit of it. The quantity was not overwhelming and the taste was unforgettable. It cost us Rs.950 that we thought was cheaper.

At night, we sat on a wooden sofa outside our room and basked in the beauty of the mountains around. You don’t get to witness such views in cities and at that moment, the calmness of the sight offered me a much-needed relief.

Abhijit reminded me that we had plans to play poker with Apoorv and other guys that the latter had informed us when we checked-in in the morning. However, when we went upstairs to the cafeteria, we saw Apoorv and another friend of his warming up before a tandoor. Initially we were sceptical about joining them but at Apoorv’s request, we gave it a try.

I have to say that it was worth a try!

Apoorv made us two great pegs of Old Monk and kept us hooked on to his wild travel stories. His friend who quit his Civil Engineering job to travel, added more spice to the session. We added our shares as well – my hostel stories from Bangalore, travel stories from childhood and what not. Evidently, how it was 2 a.m. we didn’t understand. Sadly, we came back to our rooms as we had a big day planned the next day.

23rd December – Escape to the enthralling Solang Valley

We woke up at office time on a Sunday in Manali and got ready to head out to see snow. Our driver who was sent by the one who drove us from Manali river side to our hostel the day before, arrived on time. We packed our leather gloves and an extra jacket to not get frozen.

“Let’s have breakfast in a different café today,” I suggested to Abhijit. He nodded in approval and informed the same to our driver. We stopped by Rendez-vous Bar & Café that had a lovely setting with an open-seating arrangement.

Being an avid fan of English breakfast, my boyfriend ordered one and I went for my comfort food – grilled chicken sandwich, and not to forget coffee because what are mornings without this magic drink? We had very little time in our hands as our driver, Baldev, had already warned us of bad traffic en route to Solang. Thankfully, the food came fast. They looked tempting and made me salivate instantly. Once again, I was overjoyed at their spot-on assumption of the right amount of food I can devour. Abhijit, however, found his favourite breakfast a little too much, and couldn’t manage to finish one piece of chicken sausage. The entire breakfast cost us both Rs.600.

The path leading to Solang was filled with even more traffic. After one point, our driver asked us to get down and walk to the snow point with our ski-guide. A cute Himachali man smiled at us and we began walking with him. After another point, a different and younger guy introduced himself as our ski-guide and took us down to a massive snow-filled plain, also known as Solang Snow Point.

The place was overcrowded and slippery as well. However, the view that enclosed us was magnificent. Anywhere I laid my eyes, I could see snow. The place had several activities going on at the same time - skiing, snow-gliding, paragliding and even zip-lining. We stuck to skiing and I was the first one to go. The guide held me from the back and ran along with me as I skied down, but that was just it. Our skiing experience was nothing like the Instagram videos of Nick Jonas and Joe Jonas, and we were ski-playing like a kid. When Abhijit’s turn came, he kicked off his skiing session by tumbling over. Both the guide and I couldn’t stop laughing. The guide was quite intrigued with our language, and asked us what language we were talking in When we said, “Bengali,” he looked even more intrigued.

In the evening, we decided to café-hop. We started with Café Kathmandu where we ate chicken spring rolls and Tibetan chicken momos. The food was average and had no novelty from the steamed momos we get in Delhi.

Our next stop was Café Melange. We ordered lemon and coriander soup and Nutella pancakes there. Similar to Drifter’s Inn & Café, this place also had many indoor games’ options. We played Ludo and listened to a guy sing his renditions of Bollywood classic hits. He played the guitar and sang while his brother handled the drums.

Our next stop was People Art Café. This place stole my heart. Managed by North-east Indians, the ambience was magical. One guy played the mouth organ, the guitar and sang simultaneously. This was undoubtedly the best live music I have experienced in a pub till date. People sat circling a tandoor in the middle of the café and it appeared as if they were a part of a round table conference. The table decorations were romantic, elegant and intimate. We decided to end our café hopping with the local favourite – Trout fish and chips. As Bengalis, we couldn’t resist trying a fish dish. However, for starters we tried chicken soup that simply prepared our hungry stomachs for the grand Trout fish.

When we reached Naggar district, Baldev halted outside a café namely Fat Plate Café that serves Indian and continental dishes. “Zyada mat khana, thoda thoda hein khana. Local dish khana hain na?” (Don’t eat much, eat lesser amounts only. You do want to eat local dish, right?) Baldev smiled at us. “Sure! We will keep our appetite intact,” Abhijit and I replied, nodding.

Our next destination was Nicholas Roerich’s Art Gallery in Kullu. While going down, we had become used to the roads and focused on enjoying the views even more. The gallery wasn’t far and we reached the place in another 20-25 minutes.

The location of the gallery was stunning and the paintings by Nicholas Roerich and his two sons enhanced our experience. He was a Russian artist who had later settled in Kullu with his wife and two sons. The Himalayas looked different from various corners of the gallery, but beautiful in all forms.

For our last stop, we went to Naggar Castle that belonged to the King of Kullu. It’s a wooden castle and is strategically located right in the middle of Kullu with all the houses around. The balconies and the garden of the castle offers a fantastic view of the Himalayas. A part of the castle has been turned into a restaurant cum hotel; hence you aren’t allowed to enter the area that belongs to the guests. However, you are more than welcome to dine at the restaurant.

Following our last adventure, we got us some coffee and was on our way to the river side again. It was our time to catch the bus back to Delhi. Baldev took a shortcut to reach the river side faster and it was yet again deadly. However, by then we had built our trust on his driving skills.

Once we reached the site and found our bus, we paid him Rs.2200 for the sightseeing and wished him good luck. “Wapas aayenge toh call karna sir,” (When you visit again, do give me a call) he said. “Of course, we will,” Abhijit and I smiled in sync.

We submitted our suitcase to the bus helper and went to a nearby hotel to use the washroom. While walking back to the bus, we could feel the temperature drop vigorously. “Check what’s the temperature now,” I said. Abhijit replied, “-3 degree Celsius." “No wonder, I am quivering,” I said.

We hopped on the bus just in time for it to depart. As the engine started and the helper asked if everyone has boarded, I looked at the Beas river. Although it was dark, the whizzing sound of its currents justified its mighty presence. I closed my eyes and reminisced this wonderful trip we had. My heart was laden with grief and I wanted to stay more, but isn’t all good things meant to come to an end?