“Hey Elias. You gotta come see this. Elias! Come on out here, it is time for breakfast!” Unfortunately, I am not able to convey the sound of a southern drawl through words, but the voice calling to me was that of Jo Barrow. In a couple of minutes, I came out of my tent, turned to my left and saw my four teammates, along with Pradeep, standing in a line and listened as they sang “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” to me. Pradeep then moved forward and handed me a bouquet of yellow flowers and some white tiny furry flowers, which were like a wild growing gypsophilla (baby’s breath). “Sorry, Elias, but on short notice, this is the best we could do,” said Pradeep. There was no reason at all for an apology, and along with a card signed by the others, I knew this would be the beginning of a wonderful day.
We had breakfast and then Pradeep reinforced what we would be doing. He introduced us to Sarveer, a local shepherd, who would serve as our trekking guide. Sarveer was a man who appeared to be about seven feet tall, wearing the typical dhoti (sort of a loin cloth which provided pant legs to the ankle) and a white tightly cinched jacket vest, and of course, his dark aqua colored wrapped turban.
We had breakfast and then Pradeep reinforced what we would be doing. He introduced us to Sarveer, a local shepherd, who would serve as our trekking guide. Sarveer was a man who appeared to be about seven feet tall, wearing the typical dhoti (sort of a loin cloth which provided pant legs to the ankle) and a white tightly cinched jacket vest, and of course, his dark aqua colored wrapped turban.
We would leave the campsite, climb up the hills and continue trekking for about an hour and a half. Pradeep would meet us in the jeep at that time, at one of the local villages, and then we could choose to continue trekking or ride with him to the next point. It has been some time since I went mountain climbing, and although the air was clear and clean, it seemed I was having some difficulty breathing – probably something to do with the cold I had been trying to fight for the past few days. Following Sarveer with his steady and measured gait, we ascended a dried up riverbed, climbing over and around rounded rocks, loose gravel and sinking into fine dessert sand. Darlene and Jay both said they had a good deal of experience in trekking and stayed close behind Sarveer. Joan, Jo and I formed the second tier of the group. The beauty of the surrounding hills was magnificent. We had been told that these hills most likely had been submerged under water – either lakes or the sea – for many centuries, as the rocks were not pointed or jagged, but rounded and some areas, almost eaten away by constant wave action. Faces and animal heads were easy to detect among the formations and stark beauty surrounded us on all sides. 
What seemed quite remarkable is the fact that within one or two minutes, although feeling ourselves totally alone in the wilderness, another person or persons would appear from out of nowhere, just walking, or carrying sticks on their heads, but silently and almost reverently walking through these hills and valleys. We noticed a Hindu temple built into the one of the hills – a spiritual outpost of sorts. After about an hour and three quarters, we arrived at a tiny group of huts, some with thatched roofs, some with just sticks for walls, but one or two with brick and mortar for walls. There was one stick enclosure which housed a small flock of goats. Most of the attention of the few villagers was focused upon the repair of a single-cycle engine (what some have referred to as a one-lunger) which had thrown the belt, thereby shutting down the pumping of the well.
Meanwhile, a tiny woman, with her head covered in a reddish-orange veil, stood at the other side of the well, and hooked her one gallon bucket to the rope, and cranked as the rope was lowered deep into the well, hit the water, filled and then cranked the opposite direction to raise the bucket, so she could fill her own jardinière to carry on her head, back to her hut. A few of us peered over the edge of the well opening and I, for one, was amazed at the depth of the hole – a conservative estimate is the surface of the water was at least 100 feet down from where we stood.
The belt was replaced onto the wheels, and a young man picked up the crank, connected it to the engine, and began cranking it. After a few strong turns, a giant cough and a sputter, the engine caught and began turning over on its own.
The sound was one I remember hearing as a youngster, while attending a county fair, where farmers brought their “one-lungers” to compete against one another. One belt turned the fly wheel, which then turned another wheel, which began the pumping action, and water was drawn up into the hose and then out and spread through the sluice system into the fields of castor, wheat, hemp and cumin. In a few minutes, however, the engine coughed and ceased to breathe, and another repair and fine-tuning was required.
We continued our trek and met Pradeep as he arrived at the edge of the village. We rested a bit and some went on with the trek, while others rode in the jeep to the village where we would be having lunch. Pradeep explained to us that his family had owned property in this area for some fifteen generations. The family had overseen some twelve villages, and the manner in which folks from the villages and outlying areas greeted Pradeep, it was obvious he and his family were almost venerated. We drove into the tiny village of Nabi. We were told that the children were not in school because the teacher had not shown up that day. There are checks and balances on the system, however, and if it happened with any regularity, the teacher would be replaced by someone who would be more responsible.
Pradeep, Joan and I waited for the others to arrive, and when they did, we were directed to the home of one of the shepherds of the village. At first, we thought we would be eating at Sarveer’s home, but although he knew them, this was not his home.
Lunch had actually been prepared by Pradeep’s wife and then sent along with another driver, bringing it to where we were waiting, under a sleeping shelter in the yard. We were all sitting on some woven “spring-mattresses” on three bed frames that were nestled together beneath the sleeping roof, and could easily have settled down for a short nap! Dinesh, one of the servers who works for Pradeep, both at his farm, his cottage colony and the campsite, arrived wearing his pastel multi-colored turban, and opened up the multi-level packed lunch. Included in the containers were roti, rice, dal, palek paneer, aloo and a mutton dish. Since we were on a picnic, we were eating off melmac plates, rather than china! Following lunch, we reclined on the beds, and watched as one child and then another tried sneaking up behind the back of one hut, inching closer and closer to us, until we discovered them and they retreated, only to make another stealthy attempt in a minute or two.
One little boy was singing a song very softly, and when we encouraged him to sing it louder, and closer to us, he showed his bashful side and declined our offer. In a few minutes, we asked Pradeep to tell these women and children that we would really like to hear them sing, and perhaps if we sang, they would also. In a few minutes, about a dozen women, and a few children gathered up near the sleeping shelter where we had eaten our lunch, and sat down in a tight circle, some of them not facing us and others simply covering their faces with the red or yellow veils. Some seemed fascinated with sitting as closely to white westerners as they were. One older woman, seemingly the leader of the group, began chanting, and the others joined her. What a privilege to hear these very shy women and girls, sharing with us their own special native songs, presumably ones that had been passed on from generation to generation, and songs that the average tourist would never hear. They sang two or three songs and then we offered our own rendition of “I’ve been workin’ on the railroad” which seemed to delight them. We finally departed the yard and the village, and returned to the campsite.
Since I had been fighting a respiratory upset, I decided it would be wise to take a short nap. The rest chose either to write in their journals, wander around the site, read or just enjoy the scenery. I was awakened by my mobile phone ringing, and when I answered it, I heard another rendition of “Happy Birthday, to you!” sung by my sister and her husband. She told me she had tried and tried to call me on other occasions, but the numbers I had provided were more than she needed and it took the assistance of an operator in the US to put the call through to me. She brought me up to date on the snowfall of the past few days, and a few other tidbits, and we said goodbye. I came outside my tent, and everyone seemed to be gathering, as we had been promised to go out on a leopard safari, as one had been sighted earlier in the afternoon, and we might catch a glimpse of him.
Pradeep climbed into the driver’s seat, we all piled into the back of the jeep, and Sarveer joined us. Out we set on this next chapter of our adventure. We had driven a few kilometers and then my mobile phone rang again. This time, it was my wife, who sang a shortened version of “Happy Birthday, to you!” and I could hear her then ask our five-year-old grandson, “J.T.” if he wanted to speak to me. I could hear sadness in his voice as he said, “Happy Birthday, Papa.” He told me he was sad because I was not there for him to be able to give me a birthday hug. I told him I would see him in a week, but he still sounded sad. Then I said, “J.T., guess what Papa is doing right now?” He kind of whimpered, “What, Papa?”
Then I said, “Papa and his friends are going out into the hills to look for a leopard!” Well this seemed to really peak his interest, and he and I had several minutes of excited and animated conversation, while he sort of translated every few words or thoughts to my wife. Finally, I told him I loved him and he passed the phone back to my wife. We caught up on a few family and office matters, and then said goodbye.
Now to the task at hand… to spot the leopard in the hills. One might think this would be a relatively simple task, but not so. We traversed back and forth along a soft sandy road-path, constantly maintaining our focus upon the hills above. I believe it was Pradeep who first called our attention to the cat who was half hidden behind a large boulder, just below and to the right of a scrubby bush, to the right of the rock with the big nose! It took several minutes for each of us to zero in on him with the shared set of binoculars. The leopard was obviously more content watching us than he was to move from his location, so we left that area for a few minutes, enough time for darkness ot begin to surround us, thereby making it possible to catch a reflection of his eyes with a spotlight we would shine in his general direction when we returned to that same site in a few minutes. We did just that, and were able to locate him, right where we had left him – another sign that he was not on the prowl, at least not then.
We returned to the campsite, where another campfire welcomed us, and we sat around it enjoying the light and the warmth, before being summoned to the table for dinner. Another delicious meal, which prompted Jo Barrow to ask Pradeep if he had published a campsite cookbook.
He said they had not, and we all encouraged him to do so and to allow us to market it. He agreed, but only if he had the 50% advance of the royalties up front! We all laughed and finished dinner, some fruit for desert and then retired to bed. The generator whined on for another hour or so, but that did not keep me from falling asleep before it did.
What an amazing day… spent on the other side of the world from home, camped out in the dessert looking for leopards, seeing natural wonders all around us, meeting villagers along out trek and then eating in their yard, hearing native women and girls sing songs to which we would never know the meaning, searching for a leopard, and enjoying a dinner around a campfire with friends… but the best of all hearing family several times during the day, singing “Happy Birthday, to you!”
What seemed quite remarkable is the fact that within one or two minutes, although feeling ourselves totally alone in the wilderness, another person or persons would appear from out of nowhere, just walking, or carrying sticks on their heads, but silently and almost reverently walking through these hills and valleys. We noticed a Hindu temple built into the one of the hills – a spiritual outpost of sorts. After about an hour and three quarters, we arrived at a tiny group of huts, some with thatched roofs, some with just sticks for walls, but one or two with brick and mortar for walls. There was one stick enclosure which housed a small flock of goats. Most of the attention of the few villagers was focused upon the repair of a single-cycle engine (what some have referred to as a one-lunger) which had thrown the belt, thereby shutting down the pumping of the well.
Meanwhile, a tiny woman, with her head covered in a reddish-orange veil, stood at the other side of the well, and hooked her one gallon bucket to the rope, and cranked as the rope was lowered deep into the well, hit the water, filled and then cranked the opposite direction to raise the bucket, so she could fill her own jardinière to carry on her head, back to her hut. A few of us peered over the edge of the well opening and I, for one, was amazed at the depth of the hole – a conservative estimate is the surface of the water was at least 100 feet down from where we stood.The belt was replaced onto the wheels, and a young man picked up the crank, connected it to the engine, and began cranking it. After a few strong turns, a giant cough and a sputter, the engine caught and began turning over on its own.
The sound was one I remember hearing as a youngster, while attending a county fair, where farmers brought their “one-lungers” to compete against one another. One belt turned the fly wheel, which then turned another wheel, which began the pumping action, and water was drawn up into the hose and then out and spread through the sluice system into the fields of castor, wheat, hemp and cumin. In a few minutes, however, the engine coughed and ceased to breathe, and another repair and fine-tuning was required.We continued our trek and met Pradeep as he arrived at the edge of the village. We rested a bit and some went on with the trek, while others rode in the jeep to the village where we would be having lunch. Pradeep explained to us that his family had owned property in this area for some fifteen generations. The family had overseen some twelve villages, and the manner in which folks from the villages and outlying areas greeted Pradeep, it was obvious he and his family were almost venerated. We drove into the tiny village of Nabi. We were told that the children were not in school because the teacher had not shown up that day. There are checks and balances on the system, however, and if it happened with any regularity, the teacher would be replaced by someone who would be more responsible.
Pradeep, Joan and I waited for the others to arrive, and when they did, we were directed to the home of one of the shepherds of the village. At first, we thought we would be eating at Sarveer’s home, but although he knew them, this was not his home.
Lunch had actually been prepared by Pradeep’s wife and then sent along with another driver, bringing it to where we were waiting, under a sleeping shelter in the yard. We were all sitting on some woven “spring-mattresses” on three bed frames that were nestled together beneath the sleeping roof, and could easily have settled down for a short nap! Dinesh, one of the servers who works for Pradeep, both at his farm, his cottage colony and the campsite, arrived wearing his pastel multi-colored turban, and opened up the multi-level packed lunch. Included in the containers were roti, rice, dal, palek paneer, aloo and a mutton dish. Since we were on a picnic, we were eating off melmac plates, rather than china! Following lunch, we reclined on the beds, and watched as one child and then another tried sneaking up behind the back of one hut, inching closer and closer to us, until we discovered them and they retreated, only to make another stealthy attempt in a minute or two.One little boy was singing a song very softly, and when we encouraged him to sing it louder, and closer to us, he showed his bashful side and declined our offer. In a few minutes, we asked Pradeep to tell these women and children that we would really like to hear them sing, and perhaps if we sang, they would also. In a few minutes, about a dozen women, and a few children gathered up near the sleeping shelter where we had eaten our lunch, and sat down in a tight circle, some of them not facing us and others simply covering their faces with the red or yellow veils. Some seemed fascinated with sitting as closely to white westerners as they were. One older woman, seemingly the leader of the group, began chanting, and the others joined her. What a privilege to hear these very shy women and girls, sharing with us their own special native songs, presumably ones that had been passed on from generation to generation, and songs that the average tourist would never hear. They sang two or three songs and then we offered our own rendition of “I’ve been workin’ on the railroad” which seemed to delight them. We finally departed the yard and the village, and returned to the campsite.
Since I had been fighting a respiratory upset, I decided it would be wise to take a short nap. The rest chose either to write in their journals, wander around the site, read or just enjoy the scenery. I was awakened by my mobile phone ringing, and when I answered it, I heard another rendition of “Happy Birthday, to you!” sung by my sister and her husband. She told me she had tried and tried to call me on other occasions, but the numbers I had provided were more than she needed and it took the assistance of an operator in the US to put the call through to me. She brought me up to date on the snowfall of the past few days, and a few other tidbits, and we said goodbye. I came outside my tent, and everyone seemed to be gathering, as we had been promised to go out on a leopard safari, as one had been sighted earlier in the afternoon, and we might catch a glimpse of him.
Pradeep climbed into the driver’s seat, we all piled into the back of the jeep, and Sarveer joined us. Out we set on this next chapter of our adventure. We had driven a few kilometers and then my mobile phone rang again. This time, it was my wife, who sang a shortened version of “Happy Birthday, to you!” and I could hear her then ask our five-year-old grandson, “J.T.” if he wanted to speak to me. I could hear sadness in his voice as he said, “Happy Birthday, Papa.” He told me he was sad because I was not there for him to be able to give me a birthday hug. I told him I would see him in a week, but he still sounded sad. Then I said, “J.T., guess what Papa is doing right now?” He kind of whimpered, “What, Papa?”
Then I said, “Papa and his friends are going out into the hills to look for a leopard!” Well this seemed to really peak his interest, and he and I had several minutes of excited and animated conversation, while he sort of translated every few words or thoughts to my wife. Finally, I told him I loved him and he passed the phone back to my wife. We caught up on a few family and office matters, and then said goodbye.Now to the task at hand… to spot the leopard in the hills. One might think this would be a relatively simple task, but not so. We traversed back and forth along a soft sandy road-path, constantly maintaining our focus upon the hills above. I believe it was Pradeep who first called our attention to the cat who was half hidden behind a large boulder, just below and to the right of a scrubby bush, to the right of the rock with the big nose! It took several minutes for each of us to zero in on him with the shared set of binoculars. The leopard was obviously more content watching us than he was to move from his location, so we left that area for a few minutes, enough time for darkness ot begin to surround us, thereby making it possible to catch a reflection of his eyes with a spotlight we would shine in his general direction when we returned to that same site in a few minutes. We did just that, and were able to locate him, right where we had left him – another sign that he was not on the prowl, at least not then.
We returned to the campsite, where another campfire welcomed us, and we sat around it enjoying the light and the warmth, before being summoned to the table for dinner. Another delicious meal, which prompted Jo Barrow to ask Pradeep if he had published a campsite cookbook.
He said they had not, and we all encouraged him to do so and to allow us to market it. He agreed, but only if he had the 50% advance of the royalties up front! We all laughed and finished dinner, some fruit for desert and then retired to bed. The generator whined on for another hour or so, but that did not keep me from falling asleep before it did.What an amazing day… spent on the other side of the world from home, camped out in the dessert looking for leopards, seeing natural wonders all around us, meeting villagers along out trek and then eating in their yard, hearing native women and girls sing songs to which we would never know the meaning, searching for a leopard, and enjoying a dinner around a campfire with friends… but the best of all hearing family several times during the day, singing “Happy Birthday, to you!”
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