It was a cold January morning when I reached the region that drew Jim Corbett during the first decade of the twentieth century to hunt for man-eating tigers. In fact the book Man Eaters of Kumaon begins with a story set in the forested hills of Champawat. For years, Corbett had roamed in the forests of Kumaon experiencing the beauty of the region, hospitality of the simple hill folks and confronting the man-eaters. Champawat was once the capital of the rulers belonging to the Chand dynasty. Today it is just another dusty hill town partially denuded of the forests Corbett wrote fondly about. But the beauty still dazzles the eye and the hill-folks are still as hospitable and simple as they were in Corbett’s time. The ancient fort of the Chands, now cemented and painted, holds the shabby Tehsil offices.
The town may be dusty and small but one has to traverse breathtaking landscapes and terraced fields, which cover the valley, to get to it. A river snakes past these landscapes and fields making a perfect visual for an artiste. For those with a yen for the physical, there are umpteen trekking opportunities. When I asked a local resident about the places worth seeing, his reply was a revelation: “Mountains, trees, and clouds.” He didn’t talk about the ancient Baleshwar temple nor about Mayawati Ashram but I knew they were as important as the snow-peaked Himalayas and the pine forests so I made my way to the Baleshwar temple believed to be built around 10th century. It is hidden from the main road by a row of shops so one has to do a bit of exploring to reach the place. Climbing the steps I came across an ancient well that once provided water for the rituals to the temple. Then I stepped into a world of sculptures and worship, intricate and awe-inspiring.
Dedicated to lord Shiva and built by the Chand rulers, the temple is a symbol of stone carving work that existed in the region during that era. It is another matter that it is now crowded by ugly structures which almost seem to be eating into the premises. As we wound our way down to Lohaghat, the quaint little town on the banks of river Lohawati, we marvelled at the unspoilt beauty of nature around us. Once the cultural centre of the Chand dynasty, it is said that its name was given by the Kassite Assyrians who, following their banishment from Babylon by the Persians, settled in the valley of Champawat and called it Kummuh after the name of their homeland.
So enchanted was P Barron, supposedly the first European to visit Lohaghat in 1841, that he wrote: “Why is the British government not developing it as its summer capital, I wonder.” He was of the opinion that Lohaghat was more beautiful than Shimla. Our guide insisted that we try out some of the local produce like the Bal Mithai, a sweet made from thickened milk garnished with blobs of sugar rather like homeopathic pills. The sweet toothed in the Kumaon hills swear by its flavour. I settled for the fresh jaggery that had just arrived from the little home-industries of the region.
Just nine kilometres short of Lohaghat we turned into a road winding through thick pine and deodar forests with oak trees for distraction. In the distance we could spot the lofty Himalayan range resplendent in its pristine winter glory. As I stepped out of the car into the sacred space of Mayawati, I let out a sigh of contentment. There could be no better setting for an Advaita ashram. A charitable hospital, run by the Mayawati Ashram stood beneath, a crowd of locals waiting for their turn. The Advaita ashram was established by Swami Vivekanand, who lost his heart to the little piece of heaven and decided to shift the publication office of Prabuddh Bharat from Madras to Mayawati Ashram, from where it is published since then.
The ashram stands in what had once been a tea estate, surrounded by sentinels of oak and deodar with an enviable view of the snow-capped mountains. Here, the Swami had found peace and longed to settle down. While he was travelling in the Swiss Alps with his disciples Captain and Mrs Sevier, he expressed his desire to find a similar place in India to set up an ashram. The duo searched for a place befitting such an ashram before they settled for the tiny tea estate guarded by trees, and established the Mayawati Ashram.
Mellowed by our visit to the ashram, we decided to journey to Mount Abbot, 11 km away. The engine groaned as we drove up the steep incline through thick forests of deodar and oak, right into the clouds. We were not prepared for the breathtaking view that awaited us, as we drove right into the cricket ground, supposed to be the second highest cricket pitch on earth. All around us rhododendron trees were ablaze with bright red flowers and in the distance stood the glorious Himalayas. Our jaws dropped as we stared and stared and stared…there are no words to describe the emotions that overwhelmed us. There are times when one is rendered speechless and this was one such moment. It was a sacred communion between man and nature — silent and awesome.
Silently, we traipsed through the woods to reach a tiny, abandoned church. A few cottages were scattered around the landscape but not a soul did we encounter. The only living beings around were of the chirping, multi-hued winged kind.
We have a certain Mr Abbot to thank for discovering this place of peace, aeons ago. Mount Abbot is a place that provides the ultimate experience even for travel jaded people like me. Little wonder that Jim Corbett spent half his life wandering around the hills of Kumaon.
— tpodder@gmail.com
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Getting there: The nearest airport is at Pantnagar near Nainital but Champawat is a long distance from there. The nearest railhead is at Tanakpur, 75 km away. Accommodation: During my travels in the Kumaon region I found the Tourist Rest Houses set up by Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam (KMVN) to be clean, inexpensive and strategically located. At both Champawat and Lohaghat, KMVN has good Rest Houses. Log on to www.kmvn.org for more information. Nearby attractions: Meetha Reetha Sahib, a place sanctified by Guru Nanak, is 20 km from Lohaghat. Legend has it that the Guru visited this place and when his followers complained of hunger, he touched the reetha trees along the way and the fruits turned sweet. The followers then feasted on the sweet reetha fruits. Even today, the prasad constitutes of sweet reetha fruits.