Searching for a castle - Naggar

Naggar is a sleepy little village located across the river Beas, half way between Manali and Kulu. A village, well known Russian painter Nickolai Reorich called home. For nearly 1500 years it served as the capital of the Kullu valley. The current “castle” is almost 500 years old. The Lonely Planet describes Naggar as “one of the nicest places in the Kullu valley”. On reading those nine words, I made up my mind. I had to see Naggar.

“An idle mind is a devil’s workshop” goes the proverb. In my case, it is more like the devil’s canvas. The devil in my mind, I must regrettably report, is a very creative artist. An artist hell bent on painting the mundane as grand, and the moderately novel as opulently exotic. The same tragedy befell Naggar, and in the depths of my mind a remote hill kingdom took shape.

A large crumbling castle surrounded by a deep desolate moat - a moat, once full of crocodiles, now overflowing with weeds and garbage. A portion of the castle had been refurbished as a modern hotel, warm water 24x7, warm bed and courteous hotel staff. At night they chose to use torch light flames instead of electric lights. A friendly ghost or two wandered the corridors greeting the guests with goose bumps. Doesn’t that sound like a cross between the Mysore palace, the Ripley Castle and Tuglak’s fort at Aurangabad?

Naggar, the village that it is, isn’t really large, a kilometer in length at the most. Naggar and Kullu / Manali are on opposite banks of the river Beas, and hence a river crossing is necessary if one travels from Kullu towards Naggar. The Beas, at this stage, isn’t exactly meandering, nor is it raging, hence the sound of the river can be best described as a gentle gurgling. The gentle gurgling fades away into the background as one climbs the hair pin bends towards Naggar, and a few kilometers after one has forgotten the existence of the river, one is accosted by a rash of dwellings. The dwellings quickly disappear and give way to a dead end. And as one inspects the dead end, one can spot a parking lot to the right; a couple of desolate eateries to the left; and a very prominent sign proclaiming the existence of the Roerich gallery. Hmmm… So where is Naggar? And where is the castle?

We reached the dead end at around 0930 am or thereabouts, don’t remember the exact time. In any case, we were a wee bit early for the gallery. The friendly shopkeepers at the desolate eateries beckoned. We were sufficiently tempted by the local apple and litchi juice, and bought a couple of cold bottles. While killing time, sipping some fresh litchi juice, and also out of curiosity, I asked the shopkeeper, “Where is this Naggar Castle?”

She pointed in the general direction of where we came from, and said, “Down there”.

Disbelief. Then Confusion.

“But, we just came from there! Didn’t see a castle anywhere…”, I clarified while hinting that she was probably not in her senses.

“Udhar deko…. Vho havayli dik rahi hai? Bahar bahut lakdi raki hai.. Vho hi hai”, she said – See there… can you see that big house there, the one with a lot of wood piled outside, that’s the one.

“And where is Naggar?”, I persisted.

“Surrounding the castle, silly”, she replied with a toothy grin.

Oh yeah! Gone were the illusions of a partially dilapidated grand stone castle surrounded by a deep mote, and in came the reality of a “wooden havayli”.

Pause. Sink in. React.

“And that was the castle I so desperately wanted to see? I came all the way to see a havayli?”, I thought dejectedly.

Dejection soon gave way to disgust, followed by a round expletives aimed at the author. I tell you what? I think the author, of that portion of The Lonely Planet guide, was smoking pot – lots of it. Or maybe the author’s diction was poor. Or maybe he was hung up on the proverb - “An Englishman’s home is his castle”. To clarify – a) this is not an Englishman’s home – it was the home of an Indian King, and b) a Kings abode isn’t always called a castle. So, what the heck was he thinking? Arrggghhhh…..

“Castle” is way too grand and strong; “house” is way too ordinary. “Manor” would have been more appropriate. The Lonely Planet is very shrewd – it said “one of the nicest places in the Kullu valley”. Which means it isn’t better when compared to Manali/Vhashist. This puts to rest any speculation about the author’s diction. Then why castle? Did he not know what a castle is supposed to look like? Must be an inside joke. But, I was not laughing!

Did I equate my writing skills with those of Shakespeare? It just wouldn’t be right! And that was the quantum of difference between my illusion of a castle and that thing the shopkeeper was gesturing at.

The Manor, as you’ve no doubt figured, is fairly easy to miss. To its credit it’s a handsome wood and stone structure. You’ll seldom find anything equivalent to it in India. But one must temper ones expectations. By no means is it as opulent as a castle in Jaipur, no sir, such a comparison is unwarranted. The view is breathtaking, it is Himachal after all. The wood work is magnificent, and an architect’s paradise. The manor also houses an overrated museum, nothing much will be missed if you don’t visit.

There is an entrance fee to be paid – I think Rs 60, but it is worth it. The inner courtyard houses the Jagatapatti temple, which was closed when we visited. Legend has it that a chief of the village married a beautiful girl from a village on a distant hill. On arriving in Naggar, the bride cried her heart out at the thought of being away from her village. To pacify her, a swarm of wild bees transported a mega granite slab from her village to the chief’s home – i.e. the “castle”. Over time, the miracle entrenched itself in popular folk lore. Long after the crying bride, a British Burra Sahaib arrived at the “castle”. He pho-phoed the legend, and was promptly afflicted with a mysterious fever. He died a few weeks later – the perfect Egyptian curse. One must hear this story from a local guide. I believed it; didn’t want to die of a mysterious fever so soon. For the record, oh protecting spirit, I still believe it.

The best part about Naggar is that it is comparatively sparse as far as tourists are concerned. Not that there are none, but significantly lower than what I noticed in Manali / Kullu. As the Lonely Planet Guide will tell you, there are plenty of hotels in Naggar, cheaper than the ones at Manali and Kullu. If you must stay in Naggar, I wouldn’t hesitate in suggesting the “Castle” – the views are breath taking; comparable and at times even better than the view from the Dragon in Manali.

Roerich Gallery

If you are the artsy types, then you’d enjoy this place. If you are interested in Roerich Sr. then you wouldn’t be disappointed. Roerich Sr’s residence has been converted into a museum. The house, as expected, is quite old. A well maintained garden literally envelopes the house - you can hardly glimpse the house from outside the compound. You feel as if you are on the sets of Hansel and Gretel – a garden full of candies; a house made up of chocolate fudge and ice cream; and the friendly cat loitering around.

The art gallery and art school is located around 500 meters away from the museum. They teach dance, pottery, weaving besides painting here. We saw a lot of children at school. To be honest, felt a bit jealous. Learning art at a place like this, lucky bas$%^&*, I hope they know it!

Perhaps i'd have enjoyed it more if I had spent some more time there. Let it grow on me types. I got the feeling that I'd love to trek these hills or lounge in a balcony, literary marvel in one hand and a searing cup of hot chocolate in the other. Some day. Some day.

Searching for a castle - Naggar