Jilling Estate: Part I

I took off last weekend to Jilling Estate in the Himalayas. Jilling is the childhood home of my friend Nandini and her parents now run a very small guest house there for people looking to escape the heat and crowds elsewhere in India. And I mean really escape--Jilling is a two hour climb uphill from the nearest road and everything in the house must be brought up by manpower. (I had erroneously assumed, actually, that there would be like, donkeys or mules or something, that could carry up luggage and other heavy things. Nope, the beasts of burden are local sherpas, including this guy below (nicknamed "Hercules" by Nandini's husband, Karthik). Hercules must be at least 65, but that didn't stop him from tying both my and Karthik's big hiking backpacks to his head, and sprinting up the mountain. Holy crap--that man should have been an Olympic athlete. 

 

(Hercules, doing his thing. Those are two full size hiking backpacks tied to his head)

 

But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, really. The trip to Jilling is nine hours by road from Delhi (plus, of course, the two hour hike up the mountain). On the drive there Nandini, who was born on the Jilling Estate (at home by candlelight, as there was no electricity then) and grew up there (home schooled, because who is going to hike up and down a mountain every day to get to class?) told me about the place. Her family farms and grows most of its own food. They price the cabins which they rent to guests below market-price because Nandini's dad believes that anyone who wants should be able to experience true wildlife (and, if you can't afford the price anyway, just let him know). The main house started as a cow shed, but little by little additional rooms were tacked on. The house is, by the way, by no means small, but still has quite a cozy feel to it. There is no central heating--which can be an issue for Himalayan winters--but there is a small main room with a fire place in it which folks can gather around when things get cold. There is running water, but no showers or baths, so the family heats up water in a kettle which they then take bucket showers with. 

 

(Cottage on the hill)

There is no internet, but finally, decent cell service. Before, Nandini told me, they would take bookings via a phone located all they way down the mountain--every other day local guys would carry up the booking inquiries and carry down the family's responses.  On the day that a guest was actually expected Nandini would have to climb a tree so she could watch the road at the bottom of the mountain. When she saw a new car roll in she would alert her parents who would send a guide down the mountain.

 

The mountain used to be overrun with bears, tigers, leopards, etc., but nowadays the bears and tigers have been hunted out. But, there are still plenty of leopards around, so the family always locks up the 5 dogs (and 2 puppies!) in the evening, which is when the leopards hunt. Nandini's father, Steve Lall, is first and foremost a conservationist and has dedicated the latter part of his life to preserving the Jilling forest and wildlife. (Note, the best stories Nandini told me were about her family--but I'll leave those for tomorrow's posting.) 

 

The preservation efforts of Nandini's family are visibly notable because all the way to Jilling we passed these sad Himalayan hillsides which had been totally stripped of vegetation, resulting in dangerous, ugly, enormous landslides. Nandini explained that the hills being stripped of vegetation are, by and large, a result of overpopulation as poor Indians cut down the trees for shelter and fuel for the winter. Steve Lall has able to keep people from cutting down the Jilling trees because he shoots at them. He hasn't hit one yet, though--he told me he keeps missing!

 

 

(The lush forest of Jilling)

Anyway, after the nine hour drive from Delhi we arrived at the end of the road and started our hike up. About halfway up Karthik suggested we take a certain shortcut which I discovered was the steeper, but morally superior way. The shortcut passed by the cottage of a widow with three daughters. Karthik explained that, after the death of the widow's husband, local gossip rumored that she became a lady of the night, shall we say,  in order to provide for herself and her children. (And in fact, a stone outside of her cottage was marked with an arrow piercing a heart, pointing to her door). Given the widow's reputation as a sometime sex worker, the women of the hill began to avoid interacting with her and got upset when their husbands would use the shortcut. So Nandini and Karthik, as major landowners in the area, always made a point of walking by the widow's house to show that, in Karthik's words, "Whatever she chooses to do is her own business and no one should stigmatize her for it." They also made certain to bring chocolate for the widows' children. 

A moral shortcut indeed. 

 

(View from just over the widow's house)

Here's something else I learned during that two hour hike. Nandini not only knows every single person that lives on the hillside, but also the name of every dog. She can identify any bird from its call, most animals from their tracks and can smell a leopard (which she says have a distinctive smell, though I can only smell forest). Basically, she's like the most amazing nature guide ever. 

 

(Nandini and Karthik hamming it up for me on the hike up)

(I meet Nandini's aunts and nieces on the hike up)

Anyway, we finally made it to the top of the mountain, where Nandini's parents and 7 dogs welcomed me. Then Nandini's parents tried to kill me with overeating delicious delicious foods and over drinking the several bottles of alcohol that Hercules, in addition to everything else, had lugged up the mountain.

 

But more on that tomorrow . . . .

(The welcome wagon)

(Sunset over the Jilling forest)