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I had never dreamt of chasing leopards, being in an earthslip nor being the first foreigner to visit a village, until recently that was. Here’s how it all started.

With a motorbike and a few days at my disposal, a dangerous combination as the story goes, I decided to scout the Mahabharath, the range of mountains which is a barrier between the plains of India and the Himalayas. They are not as formidable or spectacular as their opposite attraction, the mighty Himalayas and thanks to this, hardly get noticed although this story got many eyebrows raised amongst Nepal’s mountaineering elite.

The bike I rented deserves a mention. It was a little Yamaha, a very decent and capable bike on metallic surfaces but with me, a backpack of some 25 odd kg, steep descents and ascents of non-existent roadways with rain, the challenge was on.

The only difference between the entire countryside was the slightly different colour of the path, where many feet have stomped. It was so rocky that I had to remove my helmet as it kept jarring my head at every rock, which was at 10 second intervals! This, at speeds of around 5 km. The ascents and descents were so steep that when the bike stalled, it would simply keep sliding, scary when it was backwards.

It happened midway during a descent where the path I was riding had large rocks strewn along the way. I decided to cross to the other side. That is all I remember doing as with a heavy rumble the entire roadside started descending with me! It must have taken 7-8 seconds but felt like a long hour as I was constantly fighting to keep my feet above the moving rocks. When the earthslip finally stopped I was facing the way I came and the bike had sunk down to its engine, though I managed to keep it upright. Digging out my bike took a good half hour and found both man and machine to be in working order, if not very shaken and dusty!

Riding into a valley and its few houses I decided that this was where man and machine parted, and stopped to ask a few of the many locals gaping at me, of my whereabouts. As luck had it, Sam, who spoke fluent English said I could park my bike outside a path that led to a house.

Sam was an ex-Gurkha soldier with the crack Gurkha rifles regiment. Slim and fit, his was one of the better houses of the village. “Do you know you are the first foreigner to visit these parts,” he told me. I stayed at the home of a retired teacher Laxmi Narayan, cleanly perched on a hill-top with a little stream alongside. Chapatti and rice was the staple food. Curries were potatoes, a variety of vegetables, most of which I’ve never seen before. Once I was served papaya and corn curry. Fruits here are worth a special mention with apricots, pears, plums, lychees and peaches being plentiful. Mrs. Narayan would scamper up trees to bring me a sari-full of fruits with the same effort that you and I would make to open a refrigerator.

By the next morning the word had spread to the entire village as well as surrounding villages that a Sri Lankan was in their midst. To the house where I was, there came a never ending line of people, where to make matters worse most were related. A few of them spoke English with the same question being asked many-a-time.

Most of these villagers were of the Brahmin caste. To the numerous houses I visited, I always had my frame in a bent position. These houses are built with low doorways and beams that jut out at convenient locations, easy to get-by if you’re 4 feet tall but leaving me with 2 feet in excess! Indeed, I hit my head so many times with the worst knock being the school’s roof- I was surprised to see both roof and head intact!

Never in my life have I had so much tea to drink. Now, their tea bears no resemblance to what we consider a cup of tea. In fact it should not be even called tea, but tea flavoured milk. No water is involved in the production, with milk heated and a sprinkle of tea to go with it. My consumption per day was easily over 60 cups!

The Mahabharath range is around 2000M, with lots of forest cover, including rainforests. A pleasant temperature and fertile soil aid these people who are extremely self sufficient, with the exception of salt, sugar, tea and matchsticks.

This secluded valley is home to some 250 families or around 1500 people, who by no means are primitive as both school and university, had its own uniform, in which the students looked very presentable. Quite a few of the elders had been in the big cities with their families hence there was a contrast of clothing around, adding to the colour.

Late one evening I was besides a house chatting to a group of kids when a couple of them started screeching and running down the trail. I followed asking what it was all about. Tiger, tiger, said a few who managed to speak English, and the race was on. Further down the street I got to see the stump of its tail, when the kids yelled ‘leopard’. The leopard left the main street and slowly made its way down a valley until a kid’s stone, which landed smack on its back, made it move faster. It was known that tigers as well as leopards occasionally visit these parts to check the village’s livestock.

Things out here were beginning to get very interesting indeed, as the villagers began pouring down the little path, equipped with spears, swords, knives and fire sticks. I was caught between wanting to get back to my cameras and staying on as the action could be at any moment. The lower side of the valley was also filling with villagers but to no avail as the leopard known for its elusiveness, disappeared into the evening.

The surrounding homes however began preparations for an endless night’s vigil. Smaller livestock were taken indoors or taken to the interior of the barns. Food was given to animals, probably to keep them awake during the night and fires lit, on the outside. The next morning it seemed like the villagers had won this round as no missing stock was reported.

My visit to the village school was a riot of sorts, as 8 teachers and principal just could not control something like 300 kids, who all wanted to be around. School was temporarily adjourned.

The next morning I accepted an offer to visit the local university, across the valley. The campus was a multiple unit housing a Sanskrit section, a teaching section as well as a normal school, totalling around 500 students. This looked more organized with a much higher teacher to student ratio and judging by some of the questions asked better educated too.

One of my contributions to the village was teaching them the value of ‘Karapincha’ that grows wild everywhere. I left this lovely valley and its people with some regret for my long, jarring ride back.