My experience of volunteering in an offbeat rural village in the Garhwal region of Uttarakhand – Toliyon. And how the characters became individuals with intimacy and time.

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Garhwal and Kumaon – two regions of Uttarakhand. With the delicacy of Uttarakhand comes a number of places that people generally consider for vacation. Your hurried days in Uttarakhand would probably be a circle around Rishikesh, Dehradun, Haridwar, and Mussoorie. But Garhwal is more than its stipulated shares. There are places in this region that boast of natural speculation but lack the deserving quota of exploration, particularly in the interiors. Maybe that’s a good thing. Who knows.

Toliyon Village, around 35.5 km away from Srinagar in Pauri Garhwal, is a place unknown to the world outside and unexplored by most. Like most villages in the mountains of Uttarakhand, it’s a cluster of one and two-tiered houses here and there, without the typical sense of physical binding. But every villager knows each other (and knows me extremely well now) and never would they cross their regular path without a little bit of ‘retrospective’ chit-chat. And I got to know, months later, that the entire village is, truly and genetically, the extension of the same family.

-‘Tumaru nau kisso? (‘What’s your name?’ in Garhwali)

A middle-aged woman in red clothes turns her head to my footsteps. The sickle in her hand is about to cut through the grip of grass. Halfway through, she senses me. Bangali! That’s who I am in Toliyon. My name is lost to them, and many names are born instead. Sheetal, Sita, Mamata!

People don’t discuss politics in the rural Garhwal region, at least not on a universal and broader scale. They pursue the course of life through their share of ‘gram sabha‘ and a drunken call to the pradhan (head) with the urge to make roads for them. Even then, they are not roaring with ideals, nor roaring for them. I know it’s not the most ‘desired’ state of being. We should argue, like hawks, in debates on stage, over the prevalence of a condition. But they have a profound awareness of their surroundings. I say that’s a blessing!

They grow tomatoes here. Green tomatoes, on the verge of red adulthood. They plant capsicum seeds and dig out the mud around them to let the saplings grow without the interference of the budding grass (something that is known as ‘gurayi’). 30-40 acres of land with Bamboo trees soon to be grown-ups in sunlight and shadows.

Politics is ingrained, like the way it always is, but only on the surface. The roots are only starting to get soil among the common Garhwali people. But it’s there where it generally is.

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Migration from the Garhwal Region

Dadi breaks stones every day a few miles away. Her daughters are reluctant to bind themselves in her mother’s line of work. They have received a basic education and made themselves employable in the hotel industry. Men and women migrate from the villages to the more developed parts of Uttarakhand (mostly in Pauri, Srinagar, and Dehradun, if in Garhwal), and the village remains a holiday gateway for them. You can count on your fingers the number of youngsters left in the vicinity. Married to a faraway land, or employed in an even far-away land – they don’t look back. The elderly, still cutting grass and propping the heavy burden up on their back, spend their last days vividly akin to the first days.

Dadaji, an elderly man from the neighbouring village Markhora, can only take baby steps now and becomes exceedingly annoyed when he is approached like a child. He still has to work as a cook and gardener to sustain himself and his wife. His sons? In Punjab and Delhi.

Someone from Garhwal once told me, ‘Tourists love it here so much, but we feel stuck here.’ Seth bhaiyaa said one evening around the bonfire, ‘If I had land, I would live in the plains, with people all around.’ And I, an onlooker of city life, have been clamouring within myself with ‘I want to be in a village’ for a long time.

It’s interesting how uncertain people are by default and how easily they suppress that uncertainty. We are wanderers, but we choose not to be.

Also read – Tungnath Trek – Surviving A Snowstorm at Chandrashila

The Question of ‘Tourism’ and Sustainability in the Garhwal Region

Coming back to regional politics, there’s a pradhan (head) in Toliyon. It happened in 2020 only. Before that, there was no provision, rather no concept, of position, or hierarchy. The pradhan has three villages under her grasp – Toliyon, Ghori Khal, and Markhora. Meetings take place between the pradhan and the villagers in the Panchayat Bhawan now and then. The Bhawan is located right beside a huge complex with a temple at a large corner of Markhora. After going through a renovation, which was arranged by the family of the pradhan, the temple looks touristy with colourful benches, mindful of the vision of the family to make tourists visit these rural Garhwali villages.

But would the flock of tourists be able to respect the integrity and privacy of the rural demeanor? That was the singular question that kept fluttering around me whenever Om Bhaiyaa (the husband of the pradhan whose determination made pretty much everything possible in the development of what used to be a dense jungle once) passionately indulged in the prospect of making Toliyon ‘famous’ to the outside world.

Yes, I wouldn’t want rural Garhwal to be exposed to mainstream tourism. My skepticism was always embedded, with or without Bhaiyaa’s visions. Even though a homestay has now been erected, guests have started knocking on the door, I know for a fact this adds no value or grace to the lives of the village folks. If anything, as I suspected, tourists from Delhi and other cities are bringing contempt to the region. Loud music in the head-splitting speaker till the depth of the evening (which is nighttime for the locals) and bottles of drunken enjoyment precede the chirping of the newborn birds and the Himalayas burning in red during sundown.

You would think, that the growing income from the homestay would follow rural development in Garhwal. Even though bhaiyaa is solely determined to bring roads to this part of Uttarakhand, his underlying purpose and sudden remarks are confusing. ‘I will make a private road for my family’ and the political and hierarchical agendas sometimes gave me a different flavour. But he is working towards the pre-construction of the ensuing road and also providing technical-support, such as opening bank accounts for the villagers and guiding them through the banking curriculum.

The question is, has the establishment of the homestay generated an income stream for the locals of the Garhwal region? The answer is, yes! The labourers, the construction workers – all are friendly faces from the village; the cook, the helping hand in housekeeping – the locals run the show. But the money they receive in exchange is way beyond the standard pay.

But is low-grade tourism the price worth paying to bring a cent of sustainability?

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Her painted toenails, thin red bangles, and the payel around her ankles – not a reminder of a time passed by, but proof of the presence of a present. She washed the mud off my hands and legs with fresh water. She said when the banana trees would give bananas, she would think of me. I hope she does.

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Also read – Panchachuli Base Camp Trek – Camping in the Rain

People in Toliyon Village

Maybe I am oddly fascinated by village life. I am unapologetically biased toward rural assimilation. There may be a thousand and one reasons behind it, but I prefer to look past the reasons. They are not important.

If I say village life is simple and honest, you may find another thousand and one things (hygiene, modernity, and oh the so-called education) that need serious consideration from a universal end. If I say it’s not, you may again find things (a thousand and one) that are pioneers of life in villages.

So let’s just say, from my personal end, I love living in a village. I love the greenery around me. I love it when some unknown local offers me tea. I love it when they ask me to settle there (which happened in every village I have visited so far in Uttarakhand), with a Garhwali bachelor of course (not loving the approach always, but I appreciate the sentiment and where it’s coming from).

There’s a park in its making. There is a cemented road in its making. There’s a new set of eye-holders in its making. But the village is already made, with its people, the invitation to strangers for tea and khatai, the woman laying cow-dung on the wall complaining about not wearing a bindi (while I was photographing her), every face not making me feel like an outsider, every expression asking me to stay. I will always remember how easy it is, and how comfortable it is to be accepted in a world that smells like fresh vegetables and existence. And soil.

So I came back to Garhwal after six months, this time with a particular project in mind, initiating daily English classes for the kids at the learning center.

The warmth is still the same, only Malta (orange) has been replaced by pears, and the invitation for khatai has now turned into an invitation for kheera (cucumber), with the turnover of the season.

There’s warmth despite one degree in the wintry morning. There’s my favourite person in the village walking on the same road once again with a round bundle of grass slipping away from small splits over her head. She wouldn’t take me to where she goes to garner the grass bundles. She thinks I will fall down. She may be right. But I want to go.

There’s Dadi whose beauty and vibrance remind me of green water. Never did she come upstairs without offering me something to eat. Never did she let me go without biscuits. Even at this age, she goes a long way uphill to gather soil to feed the onion and radish saplings.

The Garhwal Himalayas were there the day I came. Crisp and clear, with their yellow crests shining in drooping sunlight. Drooping and dropping, behind a safe peak. I sat beside the ‘chula‘ (a makeshift fireplace made of blocks of wood) with the claim of being an expert in making roti. I couldn’t do it. But everyone else could. The twelve-year-old son of the pradhan could do it. Now after a month (after making lunch for at most eight people at a time, with the lead of Gunnu), I can easily handle a chula with a little help in the beginning. This twelve-year-old taught me everything I needed to make myself presentable to myself.

Garhwali language, culture, cooking, hidden trails to other villages through the forest, farming – I owe a great deal to this kid, whose enthusiasm sometimes was too overwhelming yet adorable. I have learnt ‘Parkhunda‘ ‘Chota‘. I have learnt about the Burans flower, the State flower of Uttarakhand. This edible flower is devoured raw and more conveniently, in the form of Burans Juice. I have tasted the most amazing sweet ‘arsa’ made of rice. I have learnt the working of ‘gurayi‘ and how to cut grass efficiently.

Oh yes, I also got invited to a wedding for which I had to extend my stay.

Life in the Garhwal region starts after 8 am and ends early as well. With a gulp of rice and daal, the villagers go to the farm to work and come back for another gulp during dinnertime at around 7 pm. Light reigns the kingdom till 5:30 pm during winter. If there’s no fog, the Himalayas come for a visit at sunset.

At a distance of around 700m, Hulakikhal is the only source of groceries nearby. The next would be Khirsu, which is 5.5 km away, or Chaubatta, 4 km towards Pauri. Hulaki became my point of morning stroll until the night a tiger came to our threshold for a hasty visit. A strict reminder by the villagers not to roam without the company of a local or a stick kept coming back to me every day and I preferred to keep myself alive rather than becoming food to the tigers.

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Eco-Friendly, Is It?

A rusty place that used to be a dense forest years back, emerged as a rural living space with the circulation of time. It still is rustic, at its core, only now cemented roads are slowly paving their way; lights and a homestay – shining there. Om bhaiyaa, fascinated by the glamour of city life, has been working towards making a commercial homestay in the village for the last six years, so that people from outside can get introduced to rural Garhwali culture.

Without his intervention, I probably wouldn’t have visited Toliyon (if not for a rare occurrence). I probably wouldn’t have made dinner with the villagers and listened to old stories huddling around the chula for a little warmth. I probably wouldn’t have met Seth Bhaiyaa who doesn’t wear any winter padding even in freezing cold. His ancestors never wore socks, not even when it snowed. They used to cover hundreds of miles on sandals, without any wintry delicacy or transport. The habit still remained in Seth Bhaiyaa. He can cover around 50 kilometers in the hills on foot in a single day.

I don’t know how to fit into ‘development’ in the intimacy of this village. Toliyon is probably one of the most underdeveloped Garhwali villages moving slowly towards development (in terms of street lights, roads…). Some of the houses don’t have electricity or an oven. The same old chula and the old men and women stooping in waist pain in the daily chores of farming. But lakhs have been spent on a homestay commercialized with flags, fancy tiles, plastic chairs, tables, dustbins, and lanterns. Why? So that outsiders can come? Why do the outsiders need to come?

Plastic packets are burned, yet it’s called ‘rural and responsible tourism’, because he has planted trees all around. The only conclusion is that, like most of the ventures nowadays, it’s not eco-sustainable, despite the trending claim. You can’t burn plastic and be an eco-sustainable enterprise, no matter what else you do!

In Rishikesh, a local took me to a beautiful paddy field overviewing the Ganges forming an ‘S’ between the banks. Even in a place like this, beer bottles were scattered all over (let alone the chips packets and the millions of single-use plastic products people use). Take a sneak peek at the land beside Khirsu Guesthouse for an anti-environmental treat in the Garhwal Himalayas.

Responsibility and development – when do they come to a single point? Honestly, I don’t know.

Also read – Kumaoni Holi – The Festival of Colours in the Mountains

Training Programmes for the Villagers in Garhwal

During my stay, the pradhan’s family arranged for two training programmes for the locals – Herbal Tea Making Programme and Incense Making Programme (using cow dung).

Nettle (known as Kandali in the Garhwal region and Bicchu in the Kumaon region of Uttarakhand), a plant available in vast abundance in Toliyon and in most of the villages, can be used as a primary ingredient in making herbal tea. A man from Kotdwar now works on making herbal tea using 48 kinds of herbs that grow in Uttarakhandi soil. He travels around educating people about the importance of using the best out of what the villagers already have at their disposal. It’s a beautiful endeavour to make people self-reliant on their own resources. The four-day training programme was conducted on the premises of the homestay, attended by 10-15 villagers. They were truly involved in the process with interactions and ideas, and most importantly, questions.

It’s important to propose choices to people. Whether they take it or not is totally up to an individual. But there are options beyond breaking stones and cutting grass, that’s the thread that can make people think for themselves.

Another one-day training programme was organized in this Garhwali village, which I personally enjoyed a lot. The incense-making programme. When I first started living in Toliyon, the son of the pradhan showed me these murky-smelled incense sticks handmade using cow dung. I got curious at that time.

The training was provided by an NGO, which encourages people to make this incense and sell it in the market (the selling part is handled by the NGO itself. They buy the incense from the villagers). They even provide the equipment, if you are willing to commit to them with a group of your own. You can always do it all by yourself as well. Other than some steel equipment, all the ingredients (cow-dung, aroma, and such) are very much in-store in Garhwal’s nature.

But are these efforts sustainable if not continued further?

What happened after these programmes? The villagers went home, went back to their lives…

Also read – The Alakananda-Bhagirathi Sangam at Devprayag

The Only Homestay in this Garhwali Village

A newly-made homestay is now open and accepting the company of the explorers. Along with four rooms and frigid mornings, they have plenty of blankets, sheets, and wood for a bonfire (believe me you will need a huge dose of these during wintertime). A wall of the homestay has been created with the empty alcohol bottles thrown away by the villagers.

For booking and further details contact White Peak Homestay – 99973 42790. Also if you want to volunteer in this Garhwali village, you can reach out to Om Bhaiyaa through Workaway or you can directly contact him.

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Even then, they are not roaring with ideals, nor roaring for them. I know it’s not the most ‘desired’ state of being. We should argue, like hawks, in debates on stage, over the prevalence of a condition. But they have a profound awareness of their surroundings. I say that’s a blessing!

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The Unexplored Villages around Toliyon

Apart from Toliyon, I visited so many villages around, which don’t even appear on Google Maps! (In fact, Markhora appears as Markhola on the map) Even sometimes I had to ask the locals where one village started and where it ended.

One fine morning I visited two villages from Toliyon – Ghori Khal and Markhora.

1. Ghori Khal

Ghori Khal is the connecting village between Toliyon and Markhora. People living in the Garhwal Himalayas often opt for step farming or terrace farming to make the land suitable for agriculture. I reached Ghori Khal through a dense jungle and stepped lands.

I met the sweetest lady who had a million questions for me (the most common question asked by moderately everyone is why I am not married and whether they should look for a local man… well). Kamla Chaachi offered to teach me how to make cow dung cakes. I passed.

A few houses at shy corners have been abandoned in perfectly sturdy condition. I inquired about such a house and got to know that the owner had moved to Delhi and the house had been vacant for quite some time. It was the most beautiful two-storey house with an empty goshala (where the cows are kept). When would the inhabitants be back?

Also read – I Heard A Roar from Behind My Tent

2. Markhora

Through Ghori Khal, you have to reach Markhora, if you are taking the forest-cum-village trail. There’s a main road through Khirsu as well for those who want to come in a vehicle. Upon reaching Markhora, an astonishing mountain view would greet you with its blue simplicity. You can see the local school, a white building in a distant corner. Small shrines, as always, can be seen in timid nooks, placed in the anomaly.

The main temple is adorned with colourful benches, a work of renovation. You can enjoy the view of Chaukhamba from there or pay a visit to a local house and embrace the local culture (here again I was invited for tea and a huge ox with the sharpest and longest horns came right at me).

Little did I know I would get awfully attached to this tiny Garhwali village and the kids after a few months on my second visit!

3. Pithundi

Pithundi is the second last village on this mountain. Village is too exasperated a word to tuck in here. Four to five houses reclining on one side and a narrow green land on the opposite, that’s Pithundi for you.

The 50-something-year-old architect I met in Toliyon (with whom I used to share a room) had taken up a project to renovate old houses, keeping intact the grey-haired culture of the buildings of the Garhwal region. He was using local materials, in both human and physical capital to generate some job opportunities among the locals.

Pithundi is more open, its bare existence being its core. The roof formation of old houses is so anciently beautiful! The house which was getting renovated has rooms that give off eerie spooks! The roof can be accessed through the ground floor of a grocery store. The sunset is widely intimate at certain bends where the view becomes expansive and you get the whole sky to yourself.

4. Khirsu

Approximately 5.5 km away from Toliyon Village is the hill station Khirsu. Sparse population and opaque forest on both sides of the road strategically collide with early morning fog, and that’s every morning!

Tigers and bears are frequent visitors to these small villages in the Garhwal region. Almost all the villagers at some point have come across a tiger or a bear. I was told not to roam around without a local or a stick. But I went through the road all by myself. Mostly because it’s okay to do so in daylight (which later on I learnt is not). In the midway, I got on the scooty of a local and he dropped me off in Khirsu.

Khirsu is the most commercialized village in sight. There’s a bank, electronic shop, restaurants, and guesthouses as well. The villagers have beautiful two-tiered houses with balconies without railings and large dogs tied in front of most houses.

But what strikes you the most is the colours all around this Garhwali village. The green, yellow, and blue houses, the red scarf over a woman’s head, the greenhouse, bullets of colours splattered here and there, and the forest right beside it (which has the stigma of ‘Khirsu Park‘ now). The dense forest that moves along the main road has been barricaded and made a tourist spot with some playground-like things. Once you enter the park, you may take the nature trail leading you through the forest, or you may take the concrete road escorting you to the park.

A huge white monkey got me so scared that I ran back to the entrance! I spotted beautiful birds and encountered animated callings on the way. Only if I could cover the whole place! (I blame the huge white monkey).

But, honestly, you know, there’s nothing much to it.

Also read – Best Places to Visit in the Pine Forests of Lansdowne

Route Map to these Garhwali Villages

Here is a step-by-step detailed route map to reach these Garhwali villages – Ghori Khal, Markhora, Pithundi, and Khirsu:

• Reach Srinagar first. Whether you are coming from a different state or Uttarakhand itself, bus services are available from all the cities up to Srinagar. You don’t have to reserve the bus beforehand.

• Two buses leave for Pauri through Markhora and Khirsu every day. Take one of these buses and get off at Markhora. Explore Markhora for some time. Then ask a local for the way to Toliyon. On the way to Toliyon, you will come across Ghori Khal, within a few minutes of hiking.

• Reach Toliyon and take a rest in White Peak Homestay. Private taxis are available from Toliyon. You can visit Pithundi from there. The locals can give you rooms for the night. You can get down from the mountain the next day via private taxi.

• While getting down, you will have to pass through Khirsu. You can spend one day exploring Khirsu. GNVN Guesthouse (Garhwal Mandal Vikas Nigam) and other rest houses are available. You may choose to book earlier, but chances are you will get a bed without any prior booking.

Farewell to Garhwal after One and A Half Months

Before I dive into the tea-samosa farewell party, I want to talk about my favourite person in the village: dadi. She mostly lives alone. Even though her husband lives with her, for the majority of the day, her time carries forward in watering the farm, digging mud, washing clothes, and collecting wood. Her waist pain is killing her. She needs to sit back every few minutes. But this is pretty much the extent of her life, apparently.

But there’s more to it. She is famous in this Garhwali village for cooking the best polao. She also prepared Aaru ka Acchar (peach pickle) for me. She became time-stoned talking about her daughters who don’t live there anymore, the relatives from Kolkata who visit sometimes, known faces who haven’t called her in a long time, and the trees she has planted (15 kinds).

Her painted toenails, thin red bangles, and the payel around her ankles – not a reminder of a time passed by, but proof of the presence of a present. She washed the mud off my hands and legs with fresh water. She said when the banana trees would give bananas, she would think of me. I hope she does.

Goodbye is necessary when you have a road to catch. Leaving is teary, but not sad if you have another home to make somewhere else. We winded up this little time I spent in Toliyon with a celebration – a tea-samosa party (and whiskey for the men). A man from Hulaki gifted me a regional Garhwali topi (hat) I was so willing to buy ever since the kickstart of my journey from Rishikesh! I still carry it around.

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Volunteering for three months (on and off) in the Garhwal region had cast light on living a rural life, working on a farm for the first time, and spending green time inside a greenhouse (or polyhouse).

Have you ever lived in the rural regions of Uttarakhand?

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