Small Himalayan village

When we are not half naked playing with toys in complete ignorance of the views around us, we venture around.

The second place we stayed in Himachal Pradesh, was at a spot that gave us great views of the two valleys around – the Tirthan and the Banjar.  The second gave me plenty of love and opened its hills to reveal the full extent of its winding river.

Going up the road that delivers me the best view of the valley, we find it  turns  into rubble, which after a few big boulders reduces to a small path through the bushes  and not long after that we reach the top of the hill. There, as unassumingly as its infrastructure, sits a village consisting of no more than 10 houses.

There is no fanfare, no touts, just curious, but friendly looks. Kids are running around pushing a wooden cart with metal wheels, which after awhile gets put upside down, I imagine so they dont slide all the way down, as there are no fences or protections of any kind against the steep slope that can be seen as soon as you step a few meters closer to the views.

A house is being built, slender agile people pass from time to time under bigger than them piles of grass  they collect from the forest, and disappear into the full to the brim with feed for the animals for the winter buildings. It smells like cows, or cow poos, of fresh and not so hay, of nature and dust – surprisingly enjoyable and brings me back to the summers I used to spend at my grandfather’s village.

As we walk around, a few kids follow us, trying to be secretive, hiding behind the rocky houses. A dog passes by. A woman bent in half is filling up big bucket at the long necked tap sprouting from the ground in the middle of nowhere. Corn is drying everywhere, bringing the warmth of yellow to nature’s palette that is surrounding us.

Simple. Real simple.