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Let's find out what it is like to spend a day in a non-touristy yet scenic Himalayan town.
On a Friday night, after work, I hurried to the Interstate Bus Terminal in Delhi. Exhausted from both the day's tasks and the journey from South Delhi to the terminal, I boarded a non-AC bus bound for Himachal Pradesh. Soon, I drifted off to sleep. I woke up with a start as the bus came to a sudden halt. I looked outside the window, and the first thing that caught my eye was the majestic Dhauladhar range. It was early in the morning, and the town of Hamirpur was still a few kilometres away.
With no prior plans or itinerary in mind, I impulsively hopped onto a bus heading to Hamirpur, a small town in Himachal Pradesh. It wasn't a popular tourist destination, and I hadn't heard anything distinctive about it from anyone. This only added to the intrigue and allure of this getaway spot.
After checking into a budget hotel, I set out to explore the town. The first thing I noticed was the vast expanse of wheat fields that surrounded it. The fields were in full bloom, with golden wheat swaying in the breeze. It was a sight to behold, and I felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over me. As it always happens in the Himalayan hills, a Bhotia dog—a Himalayan sheepdog—joined me on my impromptu hike. Playing along the way, he demanded treats and pets, and also posed for my camera. I even came up with a name for the dog—Masala, as his coat was the colour of garam masala. Later, Masala found his friends as we crossed a quaint stream across the town's watch tower. As I walked further, I came across a small orchard with mulberry and kachnar trees. The mulberry trees were laden with fruit, and I could not resist plucking them and taking a bite. The berries were juicy and tangy. I had been walking for a while when I heard children's laughter. I followed the sound and came across a group of kids playing on a tree. They were climbing and swinging from the branches, and having the time of their lives. I sat down under the tree and watched them play, feeling a sense of nostalgia and remembering my own childhood.
As I sat there, a local family came up to me. They were a couple in their fifties who owned the farm nearby. Out on their stroll, they were plucking the green yields of the Bengal gram crop. They gave me a handful and invited me to their home to join them for snacks. They asked me about my profession and told me about theirs too. The man, Mr. Sharma, was a professor of agriculture at the university in the adjacent city. His children were also studying agricultural technology. "As farmers, it is good to learn something that can be used for the betterment of our family occupation," he said. Mr. Sharma could not deduce much about the work I did, when I told him about my profession—advertising. He certainly did not care much for a job that could not make lives in villages better. They had prepared a platter of the local delicacy—babru with chai—and I could not resist digging into it straight away. We chatted for a while, and they told me about the town's history and culture. After I was done with the snacks, I decided to take a stroll around the town, accompanied by Mr. Sharma. It was a small place where everyone knew everybody else. We were escorted to the town centre by a friend of Mr. Sharma's.
As I walked further, I came across a field of beautiful purple wildflowers. Next to it, a retired army man sat outside his house. He invited me to join him, and introduced himself as Maj Rana. We began talking about his time in the army, and soon delved into local politics and how it has changed over the years. He spoke about the challenges faced by the people in the town, and the efforts being made to improve their lives. It was fascinating to hear his perspective, and I was grateful for the opportunity to learn more about the town. Before I left, he invited me to have lunch with him. I did not want to be a bother, but when he mentioned that his wife had prepared a dish with fresh Kachnar flowers (I had never tasted it before), I was convinced to stay. Mrs. Rana presented a heavy thali for lunch. It had rotis of fibrous wheat, kachnar sabzi, khatta, madra, chhach, and papad. I wasn't expecting such hospitality and felt guilty that she prepared such an elaborate meal for me, which was nothing short of a 'Himachali Dhaam'. Contrary to my assumption, Mrs. Rana mentioned that the meal was not prepared specifically for me. It turned out that it was Mr. Rana's habit to invite someone over for a meal on weekends. This time, the guest wasn't a neighbour but a person from a faraway city. I couldn't thank the family enough for their warmth and hospitality. In response, they said that they would accept my gratefulness if I visited them again sometime.
As the sun started to set, I headed back to my hotel. I felt a sense of peace and contentment that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was amazing how a day spent "doing nothing" had left me feeling so rejuvenated! My getaway to Hamirpur was a beautiful experience. It was refreshing to spend a day away from the hustle and bustle of city life, and connect with nature and the local Himachali people. The simple pleasures of life, like plucking an apple or watching kids play on a tree, brought me immense joy. It was a day well spent without any set agenda or deadline to meet. Every once in a while, I would highly recommend embarking on an unplanned and itinerary-less trip. You never know, you might be in for a pleasant surprise, just like me!
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