Village Stays in India.

Last Sunday, the Times Of India supplement, Times Life, carried an article on ‘Rustication’ or rustic vacations that urban dwellers are increasingly searching for. I am no different. Having been born and brought up in the Maximum City, Mumbai, I have discovered that my heart lies in rustic India, in the beauty of the small, unspoilt villages and mountains, more specifically. There is something so heart warming about staying in villages and farms, breathing the pure air, eating food fresh from the farm and the pristine surroundings. Here’s a round-up of some of the village stays I've experienced and each one has been memorable. Of course there are more to come. Maybe, I’ll do part two on village stays sometime.

I've listed these in no particular order, although I've started with places closer to home.

In the alpine pastures in Spiti.

Velas: I visited Velas in February this year to see the hatching of the endangered Olive Ridley turtles. I stayed at Amol Soman’s spicefarm. The sea, sand, turtles, climbing mango trees, lip smacking Konkani food and lush spice farm made this a memorable experience. The rooms are no-frill, very basic, since Velas is relatively new to hosting people from the cities. But to make up for that is the sea (which I had all to myself when I visited), just a ten minute walk from the home-stay, the verdant spice farm and the relaxed pace of village life, which has not yet become touristy. Room tariff is Rs 700 including food and accommodation if you go as a couple or Rs 1000 only for the stay if you travel solo.

New born Olive Ridley turtles in Velas.

I had the whole Velas beach to myself. 

Amol Soman's spice farm. 

Lunch under a mango tree. The taste increased manifold :-)

A raw cashew nut.

Shreeyog Paryatan: I had visited this sleepy village in Sindhudurg with my husband in January 2015. It was a road trip, passing through sugarcane fields, vendors selling heaps of the fiery Kolhapuri chilies on the road side and passing through the bumpy roads on the ghats. The home-stay is run by the elderly Kadams who will treat you like their own family member. Mrs. Kadam is an excellent cook and even allows you to decide what you want to eat for the next meal and cooks accordingly. 25 kms away is the peaceful and non-touristy Tarkarli beach. Read my review on Tripadvisor. I do not wish you give out their contact details on this forum. So if you are interested, contact me. Tariff is Rs 1200 onwards for food and accommodation.

The vegetable garden in Kadams' house.

Fresh farm produce being sold on the way to Tarkarli.

Mrs. Kadam is a cook par excellence. 

The Tarkarli beach only for us. 

Panchgani: I did not stay in Panchgani, but had gone for strawberry picking in January this year. But if an opportunity presents itself I would stay on a strawberry farm too, so I’ve listed it under village stays. Panchgani is the lesser known and non-touristy cousin of Mahabaleshwar, where people from Mumbai and Pune escape to, during parched summers. Panchgani has stays for all kinds of budgets. Think of leisurely walks, picking strawberries in the numerous farms, eating gavran (village) Maharashtrian thali and basically doing nothing but relax.

Strawberries by the heaps.

Picking strawberries on the farm.

Rows of strawberries.

Rainforest retreat: The Rainforest Retreat or the Mojo Plantation is situated in a village called Gaalibeedu, around 10 kms from Madikeri, in Karnataka. I had volunteered for vanilla hand-pollination and also did a wall-art in one of the cottages depicting the local bio-diversity. The 25 acres of the entirely organic plantation grows coffee, vanilla, cardamom, pepper and fruits like pineapple (the best I’ve ever had), papaya, bananas, etc. The owners Sujata and Anurag Goel will make you feel at home, talk about Nature and bio-diversity with such passion that you are bound to leave from there with more knowledge about the environment and be more awed by Nature’s intelligence. The staff is extremely sweet and courteous. They invited me to their home for coffee in the wee hours of the morning, since I was to leave at 6 am. Tariff starts from Rs 2000 onwards. Website: http://www.rainforestours.com/

Inside the Rainforest Retreat.

Misty mornings with the song of the birds.

Food was delicious to say the least. 

Ravi, one of the staff who was extremely courteous and extremely knowledgeable about the flora and fauna of the region.

This cutie pie of a calf took fancy to my bag and wanted to eat it. A refreshing change from the boring grass, you see! 

Sullia: A friend had invited us to his brother’s wedding. The venue turned out to be a 100 acre organic family farm. With sections devoted to swaying coconut trees, towering areca nut trees, square paddy fields, the farm is a peninsula of sorts, surrounded by a river on 3 sides, making the soil rich and fertile. The highlight was seeing and eating the flesh of a cocoa pod, drinking water from a well (ah, so sweet) and gathering arecanuts which  freshly plucked by the dexterous tree climber. The wedding was completely, what we urban people would call, eco-friendly, though for them it’s a way of life and they make no deal about it! This is a friend’s farm which we were fortunate to visit and stay in, so it’s not for visitors :-)

Inside the farm.

See how the decoration is entirely made with leaves, fruit and flowers.

Eating a cocoa pod.

Fresh okra. 

Bhujodi: There was no farm here, but the warmth and love of my hosts at Bhujodi village, where I painted a wall, made this a wonderful experience. The simplicity and down-to-earth nature of these award winning handloom artists, Vankar Dayabhai Ala, his son, Ashok bhai and family makes me want to go back and visit them again sometime. I was kept well hydrated with copious quantities of buttermilk to beat the heat, simple, scrumptious rustic food grown on their farm (which I couldn’t visit), and stories and anecdotes from their lives as artisans. A bonus was watching the entire process of weaving apiece of cloth as the artisans hummed and sang Kabir bhajans.  Since I was painting the wall outside theirhouse, they hosted me.

A cow staring at me in Bhujodi. 

Ashok Bhai posing in front of my wall art. 

Homely food at Ashok Bhai's house.

Kukma: This was another village where I stayed during my Kutch trip. I was put up in a rustic-chic guest house at KHAMIR, an organization that promotes Kutchi handicrafts, and excellently so. I used to wake up before sunrise, grab some masala chai in an earthen cup (kulhad) and walk around the campus being amused and entertained by birds chirping on a high decibel, getting ready to fly off in different directions for food and admiring the gorgeous sunrise on the barren landscape with sparse trees. I painted a wall here too. See the pictures here. The food is simple and delicious and the staff is very helpful. The buildings are made entirely out mud, which keeps the interiors cool in the desert summer and the décor is simple yet elegant. They also arrange for cultural tours in Kutch. Tariff starts at Rs 750.

The simple yet elegant guest house at Khamir. 

Cups of masala chai over sunrise.

Spiti: Well, in trans-Himalayan Spiti, you will be spoilt for choice when it comes to village stays, because except Kaza, the small town, there are only villages everywhere. I stayed at 5 different villages in Spiti. In Langza, I stayed the longest, volunteering in my host’s green peas farm. The job mainly involved weeding. Also helped with some cooking. Then I went to Komic, the highest inhabited village in Asia at the height of 5150 meters above sea level. In 2013, when I had visited there were only 13 houses and the total population of the village was 32 people. Next was Demul, Lhalung and then Tabo. Spiti is spectacularly beautiful from any village, so take your pick. Many backpackers and trekkers just  walk up to a village, knock on a door and ask to stay. Home-stays charge from Rs 150 to 300 for food and accommodation. The toilets are dry compost, owing to the dry, arid land and fragile ecosystem. The people are unbelievably kind and simple, because they have not yet been corrupted by people outside, but that may change soon with the promotion of tourism.

The entrance to Spiti. 

That's me pulling outs weeds on the farm. 

Spiti has many monasteries, their bright, lively colours contrasting with the browns and greys of the arid landscape. 

The highest inhabited village, Komic, as seen from the Komic monastery.

Ruhil Dhar and Kharapthar: I wanted to volunteer for apple harvesting last year so I visited a friend’s apple orchard in Himachal Pradesh, which his family has been managing for many generations. Both are remote villages, so you may not have heard of it. The work was hard for a city girl like me, but I managed to put in 5 hours of work everyday. The workers taught me how to climb trees, balance myself on slender branches, pluck the apples, without destroying the buds, collect them in the bag hung on my shoulder/neck and pass it down to the person standing below, successfully, without falling down. I enjoyed every bit of it. That together with the scrumptious, lesserknown traditional Himachali dishes like siddu, mash ke vade, etc made by my friend’s loving grandmother and served with liberal amounts of ghee, had me return with lovely memories.

The beautiful surroundings at Kharapathar.

Walking through the clouds and fog. 

A fully laden apple tree.

Variety of Himchali/Pahari delicacies. 

There are so many more villages to visit in so many other states in India, I've barely scratched the surface. Hope to visit many more soon. My aim is to visit at least one village in each state :-)

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Visiting a Temple built by the Pandavas- Hateshwari Mata Temple.

Hateshwari Mata Temple

After my joyful stint at apple harvesting in Ruhil dhar, we boarded a bus back to Kharapathar, where I volunteered for apple grading. The bus was to ply till Hatkoti, from where we had to board another bus going to Kharapathar. That was a great opportunity to visit the famous Hateshwari temple in Hatkoti. My host and I walked for half an hour from the Hatkoti bus stand and reached the temple amidst a slight drizzle of rain.

Main entrance to the temple premises

This ancient temple, built on the banks of the Pabbar river, is dedicated to the Goddess Hateshwari, a form of Goddess Durga. While there are no written records about the construction of the temple, some believed that it was constructed by the Pandavas who spent a considerable amount of time at Hatkoti, during their exile. Some others believe that the temple was built by Adi Shankaracharya. Based on the style of architecture and sculpture, historians claim that the temple must have been built during the reign of the Guptas, between 6^th and 9^th century AD.  

Exquisite wooden carvings.

Note the intricacy. 

The entire structure, I observed were made either in wood or stone, or a combination of both. I was particularly in awe of the intricate carvings on the wood, especially on the ceiling, inside the temples. And they have been remarkably well preserved, considering that the temple is several thousand years old. Photography wasn’t permitted inside the sanctum sanctorum but I’ll try my best to describe the Deity.

The image of Hateshwari Mata: Photo taken from the FB page of the temple.

The form of Goddess Hateshwari is beautiful with eight arms and is believed to be made of an alloy of eight metals.  It is also said that there are inscriptions in the sanctum sanctorum in the Brahmi script which is yet to be deciphered, but I couldn't spot them as it wasn't very well lit inside. The local people believe that no one has been able to view the feet of the deity, as they believe it touches the river Pabbar, on whose banks the temple stands. Another story which supports this belief is when the Gurkhas, in the early 19^th century had established their stronghold in parts of Himachal Pradesh and wanted to move the deity to another place convenient for them. The Gurkhas dug for hours on end and days together, but couldn't move the idol by even an inch, since the feet were buried too deep to be dislodged.

The huge bronze pot tied to the statue of Lord Ganesh

Outside the doorway of the sanctum sanctorum, you cannot miss spotting a huge bronze vessel tied with a chain next to a beautiful idol of Lord Ganesh. Legend says that there used to be two vessels instead of one, at the doorway, but many years ago, a fiery rain storm caused the river Pabbar to overflow and carry away both the vessels. The pujaris (priests) of the temple tried their best to rescue the vessels in the thunder and rain storm but could succeed in finding only one, which is tied near the doorway.

The Shiva temple.

Closer view of the beautifully carved entrance. 

To the left of the sanctum sanctorum is the temple dedicated to Lord Shiva, with exquisite carvings on stone and wood. There is a Linga inside, and somehow the ambience, serenity and the dark interiors transported me 1000 years ago, when it would have been just the same, even then.

The five stone structures or 'deols' representing each of the Pandavas. 

A closer view of the carvings.

Further to the left of the temple premises, there are 5 stone structures, locally called ‘Deols’, representing each of the Pandavas. I loved the carvings of figures and motifs on stone on these too. The two majestic bronze statues of lions guarding the entrance to the sanctum sanctorum made for a lovely capture.

The majestic bronze lion.

Feeling awed by the serenity and the rich history and mystery of the temple, we sat inside the premises for some time, before leaving,  enjoying the landscape dotted with the greens of the forest, whites of the clouds and colours of human habitation.

The view from the temple premises.

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The People of Spiti Valley.

The innocent children of Spiti.

I had travelled to the Spiti valley, in India in June 2013. The splendour and magnificence of the mountains and the place was matched only by the simplicity and warmth of its people. One must go there to believe that such simple hearted people still exist on Earth. I was a recipient of their kindness and warmth right from the first day I arrived in Spiti. 

On my first day in Kaza, the main town in Spiti, from where I was to travel to the villages, I was severely ill with altitude sickness. I had puked 5 times and thought my head would explode. And there was no one to attend to me. But I decided to take one moment at a time and opened the door for some fresh air. And a man staying in the adjacent room asked me if I needed some help looking at my red face. He informed the guest house owner who brought medicines for me. Though the guest house didn’t serve food, he still cooked some dal (lentil)-rice because I was too ill to go out and eat. The food came but I couldn’t get myself to eat more than 2 morsels. When I was to check out 2 days later I asked him for the bill and noticed that he had not included the amount for dinner. I was surprised when he said that he had waived off that amount because I had not eaten more than 2 spoons. I insisted that I pay him but he just refused to tell me. I, of course, tipped him an approximate amount, but here was a man who had not taken into consideration the effort he had put in to cook a meal and whatever xyz costs business demands!! Later I was to discover that all Spitians are too simple-hearted, almost unbelievably so.

The kind woman who invited me for breakfast as I was passing by her house. 

Wherever I went people would greet me with a genuine smile and say ‘Julay’ (hello). From a group of little girls who invited me to join them when they realized I was traveling alone, to women who invited me to come and eat in their homes when I greeted them while passing by their homes, or several others (monks, nuns, shamans, medicine men) who took time out to meet me and talk to me, all of them won my heart.

I noticed that everybody in the villages knows everybody else. I saw children from other homes come and have tea or breakfast. Even when we went out to work on the fields the doors were never locked. Everywhere I went, be in homes or monasteries, I was welcomed with copious amounts of tea. I saw the lady of my home-stay carry extra tea and breakfast/lunch and give it to other villagers working in their fields on the way to her own. After a long trek from Komic to Demul, I arrived at my home stay, tired and stiff from the cold. When the lady of home-stay noticed that, she so lovingly and affectionately wrapped me up in warm blankets, brought a huge flask of hot milk and made sure I rested well .I thought to myself that probably this is how life was meant to be lived on Earth. But somewhere down the way, we have terribly messed everything up.

 

My hosts at the home stay in Langza.

My heart just went out to the kids in Spiti. They are so innocent and unspoilt, unlike city kids. Everywhere in Spiti, kids greet and smile, just like their elders and also wave out, especially if you are in a vehicle. They are extremely well-mannered and say ‘thank-you’ whenever they are offered something. By the second day, I too had caught the ‘waving bug’, and soon I was waving out gleefully to kids, toothless grannies, shepherds, cows, goats, sheep and bikers, and motorcyclists on Harley Davidsons and Royal Enfields. In Langza and I’m assuming in other villages too, kids return home from school at 4 pm, change over and go into the grazing pastures to fetch the cattle at sunset. Every day at Langza, I accompanied my class 7 host, Tenzing, puffing and panting and pleading with him to go slow (it’s amazing to see how even little kids in Spiti go scampering in a jiffy over steep climbs) to the pastures. There Tenzing introduced me to his other classmates and friends. The kids asked me many questions….where I lived, why am I traveling alone, how it was in the cities…etc. There the kids would simply run behind lambs, chase goats, ride donkeys and do cart-wheels. Such simple pleasures of life. They had no access to toys or games like city kids, yet the fun they had was unmatched. Once I told them I wanted to take a picture with a cute little lamb. The boys chased the lamb for 10 minutes leaving me rolling with laughter on the grass. Whenever I distributed chocolates (Luckily I had carried a huge packet to give it to kids in the villages), they made sure that everyone in their group had received and that really touched my heart.

The loving lady at Demul who took good care of me.

Another incident which moved me happened when I was traveling in a car from one village to another. There was some work happening on the road and so the car slowed down. I looked out to see an old toothless granny with a flask of tea sitting on the side of the road, taking a break from the road work. When my eyes met hers, she gave me the most beautiful smile and asked me to come and join her for tea.  Here was a poor woman earning a daily wage and yet she was rich beyond measure to offer tea to a complete stranger like me. In that moment my heart expanded manifold. Each time I experienced the magnanimity of these gentle, peace loving people, my heart too expanded with love and warmth, which gets rekindled every time I fondly remember them and their kindness.