Rupi Valley, Shakti Kapoor and history by the fireplace.

Being a Forest Officer in upper Himachal takes you places. Often the kind of places you dont want to come back from. Sub-valleys not connected to roads, ridge-lines not connected to habitations, and protruding rock-arches not connected to pretty much anything at all.

Visited the little known Rupi valley in lower Kinnaur a few weeks back. And all the imaginations of living in a hidden, far-way cottage in woods came close to reality. The valley lies across the river Sutlej, juxtaposed to the small hill town of Chaura. We drove up an under construction road, till going further became impossible and thereafter started the upward climb. With the backpack that has followed me on a number of treks, it didn't take long for the familiar early-trek feeling of 'how am I going to finish this' to haunt me. But then leading men involves a lot of acting. Acting tough, acting un-obese, and acting full of breath going uphill. It is on moments like these when you discover that a camera has more uses then you know. Yes it can be used in act-like-clicking-a-picture-and-catching-a-breath-in-meanwhile mode as well.

The tough climb up the Rupi valley keeps adding vistas behind your back-pack.

                                           

Lack of exercise over the previous months shows up and the backpack starts to feel like Betaal on Vikram's back. But then appears the savior. A lean teenager from nearby village who has been hired to carry stuff. So he takes all the load, carries it non-chalantly and walks at double the speed. Otherwise quiet, he talks in replies only. A hero material. Well pretty much except the name. We stop for Chai and in the while the forest guard goes fetching the chaiwalah, I ask the silent toiler his name. 'Shakti Kapoor' he replies. I look at another guy for confirmation. He nods. It's not even a joke anymore.

I don't get to meet his father, who he said gave him his name. But even if I could, I couldn't have lodged a protest on our hero's behalf. The lad seemed to have no issues with the name, never even caring to remove either Shakti or Kapoor from it. Fair enough. After all names don't make heroes, heroes make names.

Seasoned campaigners of the forest, yet-to-acclimatize Sahib, and Mr. Shakti Kapoor

We trod further, visiting a few temples on the way. Almost every substantial village in India, has a temple, but not the kind you see in Himachal. Made from wood, supported by rocks and trusted with life. A woman comes to know we are from forest department and requests for timber, for the temple kitchen. We tell her we are Wildlife walas. She smiles and offers us food. We reach Majhgaon, the last village in the valley. That description gives a sense of achievement. I visit the grand old temple. Everything else looks small in comparison.

The last few Hamlets of Rupi, and the vast expanse of Rupi-Bhaba Wildlife Sanctuary behind them.

                                    

Finally we meet the Old and famous Rupi Forest Rest House. Constructed in 1914 it has seen a lot of people. And yet has remained the same. Atleast in spirit. High ceilings, live fire place, attached dressing rooms take you back in time. Chowkidar Diwan Singh is a happy pahaadi. He knows his stories and spicy dal chawal. Hunger and place, the two invisible ingredients sum up a meal that is thoroughly relished.

I sit by the fire place and sift through the old log book of the Rest House. I am told it's nowhere near old. The old one is in Shimla. Presumably conserved. Still this one has entries from 1980s. I go through each and every one of them. When you reach a place like this on a mountain, you also reach a place in your mind. A place that is calming, grounding. I feel a liking for the people who managed to reach here, and admiration for those who went even further. Meanwhile Diwan Singh is ready with more food. I look at Mr.Glover* by the fire place and raise a toast.

*HM Glover- wrote the settlement report of Satluj Valley, 1921 and stayed in the rest house in 1915.