Dusk arrives swiftly in these parts. The glow of the twilight sun is nipped in the bud by the marching darkness, accompanied by a trail of mist that softly blankets everything in its path — the rolling hills, the dark forests, the lush tea plantations and the little villages that later come to life with twinkling lights. Only the Dhauladhars, standing high and mighty, seem to evade the ethereal charm of the mist, their snow-tipped peaks jauntily glistening in the glow of the moon.
The above scene unfolded before our eyes, as we gathered for a sundowner at the terrace of the restaurant at Rakkh Resort, its elevation on a hilltop offering us the perfect vantage point to witness the play of twilight and dusk over the valley and town of Palampur. A biting cold followed suit, making us huddle around a bonfire, nursing our drinks. Soon, wisps of smoke joined the mist, rising thick and twirling as one from the chimney of a nearby pahadi kitchen. As it wafted towards us, we took a collective deep breath to savour the most tempting aroma. “You’re in for a feast...an authentic Kangri feast!” chimed our host, Suman Rialch, as we downed our last pegs and eagerly set off for dinner.
I had arrived in Palampur on a bright summer morning, after a flight from Delhi to Dharamshala followed by an hour-long drive. Much had changed since my last trip here a few years ago. Nestled in the lap of Himachal’s Kangra Valley and surrounded by the Dhauladhar range of the Lesser Himalayas, Palampur as I remembered it was an idyllic town known for being the only tea-growing destination in north India. This time though, it seemed to have expanded and developed haphazardly like any other small town in the country. Lucky for me, I soon left the chaos of development behind and drove on, out of town, through the still verdant tea plantations, and up the hills.
Half hour later, I found myself at the gates of Rakkh Resort, a member of Radisson Individuals Retreat, nervously eyeing the steep climb uphill that’d take me from the reception to my cottage. Someone suggested a golf cart, I, however, was too proud to not take up the challenge. And so, with my city lungs cursing me, my legs giving out under me, and the chill in the air making my eyes and nose water, I determinedly walked up the hill. Pauses were frequent, and the only thing that kept me going were the terrific views at each turn — of mountains, valleys, tea plantations, the town of Palampur in the distance — and the promise of creature comforts at the end of this ordeal. The latter came in the form of my well-appointed, warmly done-up Mountain Cottage, which afforded panoramic views from a private sit-out.
After a piping-hot lunch and a power nap, I found myself itching for a hike. Just as the sun was beginning its descent on the horizon, I embarked on a curated forest night-walk experience with the resident adventurist and his two furry friends. Strolling through the tiny village of Gamrotha and sampling a bit of Himachali village life along the way, we walked through a forest covering the hillside, in the fading light. Soon, as darkness took over completely, we arrived at a gurgling stream, found a boulder to sit on and dipped our feet in the cool water. In those moments, under a star-spangled sky, with the eerie glow and gurgling sound of the stream, the quiet of the forest around us and an occasional faraway call of an animal, I couldn’t have wished for a more thrilling round-off to my first night here.
Next morning, immersive experiences of a different kind awaited us — that into the rich culture and even richer culinary heritage of Kangra. For breakfast, we were ushered into the Himachali Rasoi, a rendition of a traditional pahadi kitchen, complete with mud walls and floor, wooden roof, and most distinctly, wood-fired chulhas built into little alcoves along one wall. We left our shoes at the door and entered the kitchen barefoot, as local customs here dictate. Two women squatting by the chulhas looked up from their tasks and greeted us with big, warm smiles. Hema and Sunita are part of a team of women from nearby villages who take turns at the kitchen here to cook traditional Kangri feasts for the guests.
And what a feast it was, and so early in the morning too! As the other guests took their places on the ground, sitting cross-legged on mats placed beside low wooden tables, Hema invited me to try my hand at making a mithru, a delicious local sweet bread with a floral motif. Promptly giving up after my first failed attempt, I happily joined the others in the more exciting activity of relishing the food. Served beautifully on traditional bronze tableware, the spread consisted of the mithru along with tali roti and ghadi roti made of healthy wholegrains, an assortment of mouth-watering vegetarian dishes made of pumpkin, potatoes and chickpeas, and a side of freshly-churned buttermilk.
Full to the brim, we set off for a much-needed walk to the village of Rakh, after which the resort is named. Walking uphill alongside the stream, we first reached a revered temple dedicated to goddess Chamunda. While the temple itself was simply built, it was the view from here of the village and the valley that was truly heavenly! A steep flight of stairs climbed down from here to the Manimahesh Temple, which we were told is an important pilgrimage for devotees from near and far.
Beyond that, the sleepy village of Rakh stood in the shadow of a mighty Dauladhar, with neat lanes winding between small terraced fields of swaying crops and clusters of houses built in the traditional mountain style of mud-plastered walls and sloping slate roofs. A couple of house-like structures though stood apart, quite literally, next to a gurgling stream. A villager invited us to step inside one and it turned out to be a tiny one-room space with a cemented floor and a contraption of sorts at one end — a big conical funnel hanging over a round stone chakki or grinder. These are the traditional water mills of Himachal Pradesh called gharats; come harvest season, they harness the hydropower of the stream running underneath to grind wheat, maize and other grains into coarse, nutritionally-rich flour. Rural ingenuity at its best!
The rest of our days here were spent on other such hikes, through forests and villages, across streams and meadows, to obscure temples tucked amidst jungles. When we weren’t imbibing all the goodness of nature, we could be found at the resort trying our hand at weaving, pottery and woodfire pizza making, all under the gentle supervision of the warmest village people. It was turning out to be quite a wholesome holiday, until our last dinner at Rakkh’s pahadi kitchen, which just took the experience up several notches in one go!
Hema and Sunita had cooked us a veritable feast of the most delectable local dishes, including mathri (made of burnt walnut shell, spinach, dried dates and curd), khatta meat (a spicy-sour mutton dish), kulth ki dal and chane ka madra, among a dozen others. “This is only a small sampling of our Kangri dham — a traditional feast served during festivals and special occasions such as weddings in Kangra,” Rialch told us, almost apologetically. “Well, we just have to lose a few good kilos before we come back for the dham next time then,” a fellow guest quipped, as we all sat cross-legged on the floor cushions after the meal, savouring a much-needed cup of Palampur tea, and joining in the laughter and camaraderie.
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