Rara: The molten sapphire of Karnali

Born to a father whose profession required traveling to different places, my journey as an internal tourist started quite early—two months after birth, to be exact. Since then, I, driven more by my father’s profession than my genuine interest, have been traveling. During these journeys, I’ve basked in the excruciatingly hot sun of Jhapa, learned how panipuri held its name as ‘puckha’ in Biratnagar, gotten the chance to smell the tea leaves of Ilam, imagined with utter bewilderment the life that my mother lived as a student in Dhankuta, deeply felt the people’s faith in deities in Saptari, and smelled the cosmopolitan air of Dharan.

After making it to almost every district of the Tarai region, I recently got a rare opportunity to travel to the mountainous region of the country. Often referred to as ‘Mahendra Lake’, the mid-western region of Nepal (Karnali Province) is home to a 167-meter-deep lake popularly known as the Rara. Turning the pages of history, we find that King Mahendra happened to discover the lake while traveling around the country on his helicopter. Spellbound by the beauty of the water body, he is said to have described the lake as ‘Swarga ki Apsara’ (a divine beauty).

Brimming with youthful vigor, I, along with four of my friends, recently hatched a 5-day trip to western Nepal. The itinerary first landed us in Nepalgunj. Fighting the scorching heat, we felt invigorated after tasting the trendy ‘Dhamboji Sekuwa’ there. The straight road, guarded by the vegetation of the Bardiya National Park on either side, escorted us to Surkhet, from where we kicked off our 8-hour-long Bolero trip to Jumla. While Padam Rai’s super hit ‘Gurasai Fulyo’ blasted through the sound system, our eyes were blessed by the sight of the scarlet rhododendron growing alongside the road to Dailekh. The Karnali River flowing through the hills of Accham and Dailekh reminded me of the crystal-clear water of the Teesta River gliding through West Bengal. On reaching Jumla, we were welcomed by the warm hospitality of the owner of the Kanjirowa Hotel, accompanied with the Marsi Chaamal (brown rice), which acted as an ointment to relieve us from the burnout of our tiring voyage.

The following morning, all five of us were awakened by the bubbling sound of the serene Tila River. The echoes of the early morning briefing made by my father to his junior police forces were witnessed by the twin hills, namely, Dewal and Garel Daada, of the Jumla valley. Humming in the playlist of western Nepal, the un-gravelled road led us to the birthplace of the Khas-Arya language, the Sinja Valley. The valley, in a nutshell, was inhabited by roads waiting to be constructed, assemblies that demanded an assemblage of people sharing similar political ideologies, students who talked of their modest dreams, and kids who blocked the road and made the travelers listen to their melodies song in hopes of earning some money.

After handing us two punctured tires, the road opened to accommodate the ‘dhupi salla’ trees, which stand to be one of the hallmarks of the Rara National Park. In an attempt to bridge the gap of unfamiliarity with our destination, the driver started narrating stories that were startling for the privileged ears to listen to. The road leading up to the hiking trail of the park was in poor shape, its existence marked by one or two houses wrecked by landslides.

The picturesque starting point of the hiking trail to the lake was no different than the wallpaper on the Windows desktop. Equipping ourselves with all the hiking essentials, we tied our shoelaces for the 2-hour hike to the soul of the lake. The road awaiting us was built with sloppy stairs where horses were seen running up and down on their master's command. Rich in natural resources, Mugu district of Karnali relies on horses as its means of transport. After climbing down the stairs, the scene before us opened to a heaven-like abode with glitters of water sparkling even in the dusk. At this moment, I was convinced by the King’s decision to name the lake ‘Swarga ki Apsara’.

Away from the everyday chaos of Kathmandu and walking shoulder to shoulder along the magnificent lake, I was reminded of the factual reality of traveling being a therapy for the mind. Alone with my thoughts, I was able to experience the heartbeat of nature at its full length. The nature of the lake was astounding. It kept changing its color, accustoming itself to the indecipherable riddle of the environment. The tiredness that had to be felt after having hiked for two hours evaporated on reaching the hotel overlooking Rara Lake where we were to lodge for the night with arrangements to let us spend the night in the tent. And it was in the tent where we exchanged laughter in the bargain of memories to be cherished for a lifetime. While we were cocooned in the warmth provided by our friendship and blankets, the rest of the world outside the tent kept themselves warm by consuming ‘tin paaney’ (a local drink).

The following morning, we were awakened by the howling of wolves at five in the morning. If not for the wolves, we would have missed the morning sunset! After clicking on Instagram-able posts, we bid farewell to Rara by boating across the lake. As I immersed my hand in the sparkling water, I was reminded of one of the lines from ‘Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara’: ‘Pighle Neelam Sa Behta Hua Yeh Samaan, Neeli Neeli Si Khamosiyan, Na Kahin Hai Zameen Na Kahin Aasman’. On recalling this line, I was hit by a sudden epiphany where the surroundings around me whispered to me the confluence of nature and my soul.

To bring us back into the regular humdrum of our lives, the horses were waiting for us across the lake. Leaving pieces of our hearts at the lake, we mounted the horses while communicating gratitude and appreciation to the equestrians.