End of the road in Mustang

Nepal’s trans-Himalayan rainshadow will never be the same again

by KUNDA DIXIT

FROM ISSUE # 201 (September 2012) | IN THIS ISSUE
	REFER TO FRIEND		PRINT THIS ARTICLE

It is when you finally reach the saddle near Geeling in Upper Mustang that you finally realise what an extraordinary place this peninsula of Nepal jutting out into the Tibetan plateau actually is.

All our lives, we have been used to seeing the Himals to the north. But from here you have to get accustomed to seeing Himalayan peaks arrayed across the southern horizon: Annapurna I with its distinctive sickle-shaped gash, the wide snowy hump of Tilicho Peak, Gangapurna, Thorung Peak and the view of the north face of Nilgiri that never leaves you throughout the entire trek.

And to the north, the pastel and ochre of the Kali Gandaki canyon in a broad 180 degree sweep of terrain under an inky blue sky. Behind us, to the west, the dark green vegetation of the rainy side of Mustang with threadlike waterfalls and layers of mountains veiled by a gauze of rain.

It is hard to believe that this breath-taking terrain once formed the shores of Laurasia, the continent that the Indian landmass collided with after breaking away from Africa 75 million years ago. The rounded boulders and sand on the floodplains of the rivers that flowed down to the Tethys Sea have been uplifted to form organ-pipe cliffs that loom over the silty black Kali Gandaki. Along its banks are abundant ammonite fossils, crustaceans that once lived at the bottom of the ocean and now littering a river bed at nearly 4,000m above sea level.

KUNDA DIXIT

Mustang's terrain inspires awe and wonder even if you don't know about the geological explanation for its genesis, which is probably why this has been a place of such spiritual and cultural significance. This isn't just Tibet, it is proto-Tibet. This is what the Tibetan Plateau must have been like before Buddhism got there, and before the Chinese came. From the neolithic caves carved into the soft vertical conglomerate walls of the canyons to the historic monasteries and sacred springs and lakes, this is a valley made holy by a primordial blend of geology and mythology from pre-Vedic times.

The Hindu and Buddhist sages of the Himalaya all visited and meditated here. Milarepa the poet saint passed through, singing and preaching. Guru Rinpoche, who brought Buddhism to Tibet, chased a demoness from the Samye monastery near Lhasa all the way to Mustang, and finally slayed her here. It is her blood that is believed to have dyed the surrounding cliffs red. The exact spot where that happened 1,300 year ago is Lo Gekar, the oldest Tibetan Buddhist shrine in Nepal.

The kingdom of Mustang was established by Ame Pal 800 years ago, and the ruins of his imposing fortress overlooks Lo Manthang where his direct descendant, Jigme Prabal Bista, still rules 25 generations later. Mustang always fell between the cracks, and came to be a part of Nepal almost by fluke after Prithvi Naryan Shah annexed Jumla in the late 18th century.

Mustang briefly became the epicenter of Tibetan resistance to Chinese occupation in the 60s and 70s with the CIA-supported Khampa uprising. But after Henry Kissinger started sending feelers to Beijing for rapprochement, US support was withdrawn, the Dalai Lama called on the fighters to lay down arms and the Nepal Army hunted down the last remaining Khampas.

As a 'restricted area' Mustang once more fell away from consciousness until the new democratic government in Kathmandu opened up the area to limited tourism in 1992. Tourists were limited and had to pay a royalty of $700 for a ten-day trek to the Annapurna Area Conservation Project (ACAP). Sixty per cent of the money from fees, amounting to Rs 50 million a year, was supposed to be ploughed into Mustang's development but most of it disappeared in Kathmandu's bureaucratic sinkhole.

Today, Mustang is in the cusp of the most momentous change in its history. The road from the Chinese border at Kore La was opened 15 year ago, flooding the area with cheap Chinese goods. But now a new road from the south is also being built in stages, making it possible once it is completed to ride from Pokhara to Lo Manthang in 12 hours.

Mustangis are ambivalent about the road, some want tourism restrictions to be lifted and are happy that basic items will be cheaper and better quality. But others fear Lo Manthang will turn into Thamel and the monasteries will be plundered.

On the high pass above Geeling, a mule train carrying trekking gear rounds the bend with bells clinking and head mule wearing a colourful feather headgear. The mules look startled as a noisy Tata jeep carrying passengers from Tsarang also arrives in a cloud of dust. It looks like the end of the road for Mustang's centuries old way of life as the rest of the world catches up.