New Yr at Nurla Village

WARMTH IN THE COLD

 

 

The people of Nurla, a small sleepy village near Leh celebrate New Year's Day on 4th January every year and we have been fortunate enough to attend the festivities. Indeed, we were eager to see how village folk would celebrate, considering that the temperature was somewhere between -20 and -25 degrees Celsius.

Needless to add, it was bonechillingly cold and everyone has to be swathed in three or four layers to keep warm! That, of course, does not make for much leeway when it comes to party togs! Nevertheless, at six in the evening, a group of nine of us made for the community hall of Nurla village.

After going past numerous bare brown trees and long stretches of mountainous terrain, we reached our destination. It seemed as if nature was totally oblivious to the fact that we were ushering in the New Year. Everything was still and calm and, some would say, very depressing. There were only shades of brown to be seen everywhere, no greenery in sight.

The village head greeted each one of us by garlanding us with a white nylon scarf —talk about the synthesis of old and new! — and ushered us into the modest sized hall. The first sense aroused was that of smell, even before our eyes lit appreciatively on the colourful sight before us. The smell was definitely organic, fleshy and somewhat over-ripe. A dead rat? Not likely . Whatever it was, it did not bear further investigation, if only for peace of mind....

 

There were about a hundred people stuffed inside the hall. It struck us then that extreme climate conditions made personal hygiene a troublesome task, therefore perhaps so many people all decked up in their sunday-best could have had a cumulative effect on the olfactory nerves!

From the ancient to the very young, all wore the traditional Ladakhi outfit called the ‘Goncha’ with tall, bright hats called ‘perak’ in different hues. I also noticed that most of the young women and teenaged girls were not wearing hats; only the elderly seemed to have that privilege.

The women also wore colourful shawls and their best pieces of jewellery — big, chunky necklaces and earrings. All the necklaces were made of gold and turquoise, some with prominent lockets hanging from them. Some women wore them interspersed with strings of pearls. Another distinct feature of their dress code was that all women had their hair tied up in two pigtails; no loose locks here!

We were quickly conducted to a corner and everyone was seated on the floor. There were low carved tables called Chogtse kept at regular intervals with small tea cups on them. There were huge drums placed inside the hall in which men were pouring some kind of liquid.

After further investigation, I found out that there were two types of liquid in the tea cups. One was the famous Ladakhi butter tea called gud-gud chai and the other was their drink called Chhang. Gudgud chai is made of yak milk, yak butter and salt. Chhang is their local rice beer.

I started by tasting the chai and to the disappointment of the hosts I could not take more than a few sips! It tasted like soup and would not go down my throat. The milk smelt strange and after learning that it was yak milk, I just could not gulp the tea anymore. I watched helplessly as someone came and poured some more!

I was then told that it the custom to keep topping up the tea cups for the guests! I was in a huge quandary - if I refused , they might take offence. So I decided to try the other liquid - Chhang. By comparison, it tasted very good, like a light beer. To make up for my mingy response to the yak tea, I partook generously of the Chhang and before I knew it I’d gulped five cups. Inevitably I began to feel light headed and decided to put the brakes on my drinking.

Snacks followed the drinks, mainly a somewhat tough barbequed lamb and a plate full of dried apricots. Soon, their song and dance started. Some young girls formed a line and went around the hall, taking small dainty steps and intricate hand genstures to the beat of the drums. The hosts asked us to join in and three of us ladies took them up on the offer! Each of us stood behind a girl and it was a cinch to get a hang of the steps and the beat.

While we were dancing, two bonny babies attracted my attention. They were very cute, all bundled up in layers of clothes, with a woollen cap on top and enchantingly rosy cheeks! A closer look at the rosy cheeks, though, showed that it was not so much a healthy glow as chapped skin due to the extremely cold temperature. I wish I could have got them copius supplies of cream....

All too soon we had to bid adieu to the villagers and let them continue with their festivities. Groups of kids followed us curiously to our vehicles. For them another new year means coming together and sharing a meal. They have little else to look forward to in that remote corner of our vast country. Their wishes for each new year are fairly simple: they pray for a less severe winter and the wherewithal to be able to feed themselves twice a day for the rest of the year. If only everyone else also had such simple prayers, it would put an end to the farce of New Year Resolutions!