Tosh, October 2015: A Village in the Clouds

The smell of dung pervades the air in Tosh. The rickety suspension bridge that connects to this mountainside village is laden with dung cakes of pack animals and cattle. There are no motorable roads here. The village is a warren of narrow pathways – most are unpaved and uneven, while some are cobblestoned and a few are even set in concrete – mostly covered in dung. Walking down these alleyways, I get a sense of what the towns and villages of ancient times, such as those of the Sakas, Huns, or Mongols, would have smelled like.

The Maya Shiv Shakti cafe at the mouth of Tosh.
The bridge in the foreground is caked in dung.

Unkempt as it might seem, Tosh is still a quaint, colourful and pretty village. And all is forgotten the moment you look out East and see the snow-capped mountains and pine forests, the view that the village wakes up to every day. The mountains received snowfall twelve days ago, said our companion on the local bus, a native of Dharamsala who works at the hydroelectricity project in Barshaini. That morning, my friend from Delhi, Davneet Singh, who was my co-passenger on the overnight Himachal Road Transport Volvo bus from Delhi to Manali, and I set out from Kasol in a local bus to Barshaini village. There are only a few bus services to Barshaini; most of them stop at Manikaran and turn back to Bhunter. From Manikaran, Barshaini is roughly 20 kilometres further up in the hills, a nondescript village that has little else other than a few eateries, the hydroelectricity project site and the base for Tosh and Kheerganga, a glade with a hot-water spring high up in the mountains. 

View of the hills from Tosh

By the end of November, Tosh receives heavy snowfall, he said. Then, the village gets cut off from the mainland and the local buses ply only up to Manikaran. Even Barshaini receives a fair amount of snow, because of which the road from Manikaran is closed during winters. Still, ‘foreign’ tourists, mainly Israelis and a few Russians, trudge through the snow and come to Tosh, he said. Then, Tosh becomes a mini-Israeli settlement. There are few guesthouses here, and so, some of the homes of the locals become homestays. Rave parties are held in the woods often. Even after I entered Tosh at around 11 am, soaked in sweat because the three kilometre uphill and winding road does not have enough tree cover, and sat in the café at the mouth of the village, there was trance music playing nonstop.

Inside the cafe

Tosh is not the highest or remotest mountain village in India. There are several remote settlements in Himachal Pradesh alone, especially in the Lahaul and Spiti region and, closer here, Malana: The Eden from where you get the most popular, ostensibly highest-quality dope called Malana Cream. People told me that even in Tosh if I asked around, I’d get a decent amount of Malana Cream to last me for a nightlong stay. But I was not interested. No, I’m not a self-righteous person; it’s just that I don’t know how to smoke!

One of the many pathways of Tosh

Like in Kasol, the colourful wooden houses are covered with Hebrew signboards or with advertisements of Momos, Chowmein (spelled differently on different signboards), Hummus or Laffa. I think every other house in Tosh is a guesthouse, with psychedelic graffiti or retro murals of Shiva who resembles Bob Marley. Or the other way round perhaps. I wonder how will these people sustain themselves through the winter months after snow cuts the village off from the rest of the world. Then, I see part of the answer on the rooftops.

Corn cobs left on the roof to dry

There are corn cobs spread out on several rooftops, left there to dry in the last bright rays of the sun. Then, there are apple orchards. I’m certain the villagers have stocked up already, bringing goods from Kasol or Bhunter by bus and then bringing it into Tosh on the backs of mules and ponies. Besides, there’s enough dope for everybody. What more does one need!

After roaming around in the village for a little while, I returned to Kasol that evening by bus. My friend Davneet had taken another route. He headed up to Kheerganga with other hikers where he planned to camp for the night. The next day in Kasol, he told me about the wonderful trek through the woods, the hot water springs in Kheerganga, the jamming session all night, and the stay in a dormitory. Just when I was beginning to feel a little envious, he added, “There were huge rats in the dormitory, running over our legs as we slept. They kept us company all night.”

I was glad I didn’t make it to Kheerganga!