Karnali, the toughest terrain in Nepal, is home to the toughest people in the country. They are strongly built and well adapted to the rough weather and difficult landscape. Jumla, beautiful but harsh, is no exception. However, it is the most easily accessible district in the Karnali region in comparison to other districts (as far as I know). But still the accessibility is remoteness for people who have been living in cities.
A British photographer based in Hanoi was marching with me to a lodge where we were to stay that night. We were literally clambering, hanging to the roots of shrubs and wild grasses, passing along a patch of gravel road swept away by a recent landslide. He was wearing crocs, though I had advised to wear trekking boots. On his shoulder hung a DSLR with a heavy lens. Thanks to the local guides, they took care of the tripods and his bag.
He was cursing and saying, “How come you guys work in this place? I am fumbling, even to walk.”
I just smiled. There was no other means to convince him.
As we reached the lodge, it was dark. We had a sumptuous supper, gathered around an improved cook-stove in the kitchen. It was chilling cold outside, but the fire and apple brandy helped us retain the heat in our bodies.
In the morning, everything was covered in a dense fog. We could feel the bitter cold. When we reached a wooden bridge over Tila River, the sun’s rays shone upon us. The water was sparkling greenish white and the sky was clear blue with fluffy white clouds soaring above our heads.
The sight was awesome! It was my first visit to Jumla and I was already comparing it with Switzerland. Even better, had it been through the technological development like the European countries.
The wooden bridge, the greenish white water, the horses grazing on the pastureland, the Mount Kanjirowa smiling in all whites – all were my first sightings. I have no words to express the joy. The joy of being the first to experience all those extraordinary moments.
It was also first time for the photographer. He had never seen such beauty in his life and was clicking pictures leaving behind all the grudges that he had the day before. He had forgotten the pain of clambering and slipping in between at the landslide site.
Next day, after completing our work, we set to return to the Jumla headquarters. We again began the slow walk along the gravel road. The journey was lackluster and the road never seemed to end. We didn’t even meet a single person during our one hour walk.
But this time a luxury was waiting us at the landslide site where we had had a hard time crossing the stretch the day before. A jeep was parked next to the site. One of our local friends whistled and waved to the driver. But it was of no use. The driver didn’t hear our shouting, but he didn’t drive the vehicle either. He was waiting for passengers to fill the jeep which had carried a consignment of rice, tea, biscuits and other edibles for the small shops in the eastern part.
The driver and the helper, both were happy when we reached the jeep. For them we were the green hundred rupee notes. They exorbitantly charge the passengers on these routes. Firstly, no vehicles ply on those roads. Secondly, whenever a goods carrier returns, locals push each other to get on the vehicle. So that they can have a ride of lifetime. And for many it’s their first ride!
Being foreigners, one of my friends and the photographer got the chance to sit next to the driver. We were thankful to the duo of driver and helper. They still had that sense of respecting foreigners as our guests. However, the helper didn’t leave a chance to get us packed like sardines at the back of the vehicle.
The back of the jeep was like a huge room with a single peeping window, most probably for letting the air in. We sat on the floor that was occupied a while ago by bags of rice and packets of tea and biscuits. The sacks and packets then were carried by mules to the final destinations. Ironically, the mule owners had occupied the place of those sacks and packets. They were happy to travel in a four-wheeler, man-made machine that runs on diesel, the oil from Gulf!
The backyard was almost packed. As we drove to the Jumla headquarters, we came across a group of wealthy Jumlawasi (people from Jumla). They were riding sturdy horses, had on the robes of Lamas (the Buddhist priests), and were laden with expensive Tibetan jewelries.
Then there was a strange request. The horse riders stopped us and requested to be taken in. All of them – three old men in their seventies – dismounted from the horses and handed them to a young teenager travelling with them, to be towed to the headquarters.
The men, I could sense from their face, were happy more than any jolly person I had ever seen in my life. In spite of their old age, they were chirping like young boys. At every jolt of the vehicle their laughter rose to a higher level. At every jerk we had had a bad time adjusting ourselves to the vehicle floor. And it hurt badly each time. But the three men, with every jolt, seemed to grow younger and younger.
I was quite annoyed by their laugh and chatter but I didn’t want to hurt them. So, I asked politely, “Is this your first ride?”
Luckily, one of them could understand Nepali. There are still places in Nepal where people don’t speak Nepali. He translated it to other two and again all of them started laughing and nodding their heads in unison. He replied in broken Nepali, “Yes, young man, it’s our first ever ride.”
Then another man enthusiastically added to the conversation which was translated by the man speaking Nepali.
“It’s more than seventy years and this is the first time we are riding a jeep.”
“See, it’s so strange,” another man chipped in. “A metal box running on four wheels without any pulling or pushing. Men have turned into Gods. Seems they can build anything. Amazing!”
“We are from remotest part of Jumla, had only heard about the advancement of science and this is the first time we got an opportunity to experience it,” said the Nepali speaking man.
I could see the excitement in their faces. The joy that had taken them to their careless childhood days was immeasurable and inexpressible.
It was the joy of being the first.
Photos used with permission (c) Sunil Sharma
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| Jumla is rugged but beautiful (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix |
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| Aerial view of Jumla (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix |
He was cursing and saying, “How come you guys work in this place? I am fumbling, even to walk.”
I just smiled. There was no other means to convince him.
As we reached the lodge, it was dark. We had a sumptuous supper, gathered around an improved cook-stove in the kitchen. It was chilling cold outside, but the fire and apple brandy helped us retain the heat in our bodies.
In the morning, everything was covered in a dense fog. We could feel the bitter cold. When we reached a wooden bridge over Tila River, the sun’s rays shone upon us. The water was sparkling greenish white and the sky was clear blue with fluffy white clouds soaring above our heads.
 |
| Jumla is awesome (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix |
The wooden bridge, the greenish white water, the horses grazing on the pastureland, the Mount Kanjirowa smiling in all whites – all were my first sightings. I have no words to express the joy. The joy of being the first to experience all those extraordinary moments.
 |
| Horses are a common sight in Jumla (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix |
Next day, after completing our work, we set to return to the Jumla headquarters. We again began the slow walk along the gravel road. The journey was lackluster and the road never seemed to end. We didn’t even meet a single person during our one hour walk.
But this time a luxury was waiting us at the landslide site where we had had a hard time crossing the stretch the day before. A jeep was parked next to the site. One of our local friends whistled and waved to the driver. But it was of no use. The driver didn’t hear our shouting, but he didn’t drive the vehicle either. He was waiting for passengers to fill the jeep which had carried a consignment of rice, tea, biscuits and other edibles for the small shops in the eastern part.
The driver and the helper, both were happy when we reached the jeep. For them we were the green hundred rupee notes. They exorbitantly charge the passengers on these routes. Firstly, no vehicles ply on those roads. Secondly, whenever a goods carrier returns, locals push each other to get on the vehicle. So that they can have a ride of lifetime. And for many it’s their first ride!
Being foreigners, one of my friends and the photographer got the chance to sit next to the driver. We were thankful to the duo of driver and helper. They still had that sense of respecting foreigners as our guests. However, the helper didn’t leave a chance to get us packed like sardines at the back of the vehicle.
 |
| Mules carry the goods to remote places in Jumla (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix |
The backyard was almost packed. As we drove to the Jumla headquarters, we came across a group of wealthy Jumlawasi (people from Jumla). They were riding sturdy horses, had on the robes of Lamas (the Buddhist priests), and were laden with expensive Tibetan jewelries.
Then there was a strange request. The horse riders stopped us and requested to be taken in. All of them – three old men in their seventies – dismounted from the horses and handed them to a young teenager travelling with them, to be towed to the headquarters.
The men, I could sense from their face, were happy more than any jolly person I had ever seen in my life. In spite of their old age, they were chirping like young boys. At every jolt of the vehicle their laughter rose to a higher level. At every jerk we had had a bad time adjusting ourselves to the vehicle floor. And it hurt badly each time. But the three men, with every jolt, seemed to grow younger and younger.
I was quite annoyed by their laugh and chatter but I didn’t want to hurt them. So, I asked politely, “Is this your first ride?”
Luckily, one of them could understand Nepali. There are still places in Nepal where people don’t speak Nepali. He translated it to other two and again all of them started laughing and nodding their heads in unison. He replied in broken Nepali, “Yes, young man, it’s our first ever ride.”
Then another man enthusiastically added to the conversation which was translated by the man speaking Nepali.
“It’s more than seventy years and this is the first time we are riding a jeep.”
“See, it’s so strange,” another man chipped in. “A metal box running on four wheels without any pulling or pushing. Men have turned into Gods. Seems they can build anything. Amazing!”
“We are from remotest part of Jumla, had only heard about the advancement of science and this is the first time we got an opportunity to experience it,” said the Nepali speaking man.
I could see the excitement in their faces. The joy that had taken them to their careless childhood days was immeasurable and inexpressible.
It was the joy of being the first.
Photos used with permission (c) Sunil Sharma
