A small picaresque hill station in Himachal Pradesh, India, Kasol seems to be one of the most peaceful places amongst the country’s hustle bustle. Known for a subculture similar to Goa, Kasol in my view, is the Gokarna of the north. While the Goan culture is more upbeat, Kasol mellows it down to an extremely chill and groovy progressive beat, which I have been hooked onto ever since.
The people seem nice and helpful, the cafes are crazy cheap, try King Falafel for sure. For those who like to trek, there are amazing treks to Rasol, Malana and many places in between. Accommodation is also cheap, I paid Rs.400/night/3 pax – The legendary Green Park Cafe. Could it get any better?
Yes it does, the place has a serenity of its own, the moment you get off that shaky ride in a “khattaara” or “piece of shit” mountain bus, which I highly recommend not only because it’s just Rs. 40 but it gets you in the vibe, the serenity hits you. My hit was a little eerie since I had just finished reading 1984 – George Orwell on that bus ride. But Kasol is one of those places which just starts refreshing you from the moment you get there, and this vibrant effect lasts on your psyche at least till for a month, it’s just so beautiful.
The major attraction is the woods. Oh-my-god, the woods, I walked through them day and night, on and on, and it just kept getting better and it went to a point where, in a highly intellectual state if I may, I realized how I’m a part of nature, equal to or lesser than any tree in the woods or stone in the riverbed.
Wandering in the woods
And we took a road to the valley of lush
beneath the snow-clad mountainous gates of heaven.
Sipping whiskey by the riverside
counting in the dancing candle night, stars more than seven.
Summertime chills embrace the spine
i am one, and all is mine.
Coming so close to reality but still only far away
there is a light, that shines night and day.
The sky wiped clean to white and blues
below there’s this rapturing presence of the wilderness
adorning and overwhelming, there’s nothing left to suppress.
The men, they live in cottages and gardens
houses scattered in the middle of green hills.
Their women, they serve coffee
and plough the plants
in the sound of the water come alluring and attracting chants.
Add to that, the rapturing flow of the Parvati River, a great blend. At that point in time, Kasol felt like a fair for the family of the gods and then night came again, obviously the stars they make you feel like you are at the gates of heaven and Dylan is the doorman.
Kasol – A Valley of Dreams, written on the banks of the Parvati River.
A night in the valley of stars,
sitting on a huge rock
my sweet astonished blankness accompanying me
in the lovely biting cold.
White Simba walking around
in the green fields occupied by darkness.
Simba’s on the stage
relaxing on the stage of his own after-party
like a perfect host.
A bonfire wearing off
as the secrets of the woods unveil
in a groovy track across the flying universe.
Dylan in what God sounds like
in this Orwellian world of ours
to remember on a night under the stars
like a sweet mythical praise
at the end of the night,
Simba follows his master, a perfect slave.
P.S Go to Chilaal, and stay away from drugs.