Travel remains one of the finest ways to step away from life's everyday hustle-rekindling our enthusiasm and gifting us lasting memories. Mountains, verdant valleys, dense mists, the crisp scent of pine woodlands, and serene alpine quietude have always held a special place in my heart. Whenever an opportunity to journey into the highlands arises, the nature lover within me instantly springs to life. One such unforgettable opportunity arrived in September 2022. Nestled within the Kangra district of Himachal Pradesh, the celebrated hill station of Dharamshala and its picturesque upper settlement, McLeod Ganj, etched an experience into my memory that remains remarkably fresh and vivid to this day.
Beginning of the Journey: From
Bhubaneswar to Dharamshala via Delhi
It was the first week of September. Since 2014, I have been actively involved in diverse projects across the Wikipedia and Wikimedia movement. Under an initiative supported by the Wikimedia Foundation aimed at documenting and archiving Indian language cultures, folk traditions, and local heritage in open-knowledge audio and video formats, an in-person meeting and hands-on workshop was scheduled at the Central University of Himachal Pradesh (CUHP). I was invited to participate. This was not merely an academic commitment; it was an extraordinary opportunity to witness the grandeur of the Himalayas firsthand.
I departed on an early morning flight from Biju Patnaik International Airport in Bhubaneswar, Odisha, bound for New Delhi. After an aerial journey of roughly two hours, I touched down at Indira Gandhi International Airport. From there, I boarded the Delhi Metro directly to the Inter-State Bus Terminal (ISBT) at Kashmere Gate.
Direct railway connectivity to Dharamshala is virtually non-existent; travelers must rely almost entirely on air or road routes. Although an airport is located nearby in Gaggal (Kangra), flights were unavailable for my itinerary at the time. I booked a night bus ticket through RedBus for around one thousand rupees on a private operator. Up to that point, my experience with long overnight bus travel had essentially been limited to routes like Bhubaneswar to Bhawanipatna.
This bus, however, proved to be completely different. It was a luxury multi-axle Volvo coach without sleeper berths, featuring deep semi-sleeper reclining seats and extendable calf-and-foot rests that elevated from beneath the chair. While state transport corporations like Odisha's have since deployed similarly sophisticated coaches, at the time it was my very first time traveling on one.
Traversing Delhi’s sprawling evening traffic took over an hour. Once we cleared the outskirts and settled onto the broad national highway, the coach pulled over around 11:00 PM at a roadside highway dhaba for dinner. North Indian fare like hot parathas and chole bhature has always been a personal favorite, so I happily settled on chole bhature for my late dinner. Bottled water was provided aboard. Back on the road, our bus sliced through the nocturnal darkness, cruising across the flat plains of Punjab before gradually winding up into Himachal’s twisty montane roads. Outside, the night air grew progressively colder. Lulled by the quiet rhythm of the coach and the gentle sways around the bends, I drifted off to sleep without even realizing it.
Arrival in Dharamshala and the
Homestay Experience
The morning of September 2 greeted us with soft sunlight breaking over high mountain ridges, washing the landscape in warm gold. The bus dropped passengers off at a bus stop in Dharamshala. Stepping down onto the pavement, an invigorating gust of fresh mountain air washed over me, sweeping away all lingering exhaustion from the overnight transit.
At that time, online app-based cab aggregators like Ola or Uber did not operate in the town. Commuters had to rely entirely on the local taxi stand. I walked over to arrange a ride to my hotel. Rates were strictly regulated and fixed by the local taxi union at three hundred rupees, leaving no room for bargaining. The bus drop-off point sat at a higher elevation, and reaching the lodging required descending down the slope-a distance of barely 3.5 kilometers-yet the fixed rate stood firm.
The cab dropped me off at my reserved accommodation. It was not a plush, star-rated luxury hotel, but rather a warm, quiet, homestay-like property. Several familiar colleagues and friends who had arrived earlier for the workshop were already there. Reuniting with them amidst the mountains added an immediate sense of warmth to the trip.
The rooms were clean, tidy, and comfortable. Interestingly, none of the guest rooms featured air conditioning; the natural climate here is chilly enough that air conditioning is never required. Instead, rooms were equipped with 24-hour running hot water and dedicated room heaters. Given the pleasant, gently cool September weather, turning on the heater wasn't necessary.
I settled in, took a thoroughly refreshing hot-water shower, and headed down for breakfast. The kitchen served up steaming, freshly made aloo parathas paired with thick homemade curd and pickles. Savored in the mountain chill, that simple breakfast tasted magnificent. Over breakfast, I met several other workshop participants, exchanging introductions and making new friends. Since the core academic sessions were slated to commence the following day, four of us decided to head out and explore McLeod Ganj together.
High Above the Valleys:
Dharamshala Skyway
To travel from Dharamshala up to McLeod Ganj, one has two choices: drive along the narrow, winding hill roads or take the aerial ropeway. We opted for the modern cable car built by the Tata Group-the Dharamshala Skyway. Back then, a one-way ticket cost four hundred rupees per person. The four of us boarded a single cabin together.
It was my very first time riding a passenger ropeway. Much like entering an elevated metro concourse, passengers walk up to an upper boarding platform. The enclosed cabins feature panoramic glass windows on all sides, providing sweeping vistas of the terrain. While boarding the cabin as it smoothly swung out onto the overhead steel cables brought a flash of excitement, my three companions felt considerably more nervous than I did, holding onto the handrails with cautious grip.
For me, as someone passionate about nature photography, the experience felt heavenly. I pulled out my camera and began framing the passing landscape. Spanning roughly 1.8 kilometers supported by 10 towering pylons-reaching heights of up to 362 meters-the ropeway covers a journey that usually takes 30 to 45 minutes by road in just 5 to 10 minutes. Gliding across the sky offered an uninterrupted panorama: deep green expanses of pine and deodar forests beneath our feet, with the snow-dusted ridges of the Dhauladhar range rising majestic in the backdrop. Fleeting drifts of clouds and mountain mist intermittently drifted past the cabin, adding an ethereal charm.
Tibetan Democracy Day at the
Tsuglagkhang Complex
Stepping out at the upper terminal in McLeod Ganj, a short stroll brought us to the world-renowned Dalai Lama Temple, known locally as the Tsuglagkhang Complex.
Our timing was serendipitous. September 2 marks Tibetan Democracy Day, one of the most significant dates on the calendar for the global Tibetan diaspora. On this day in 1960, the first elected body of the Tibetan Parliament-in-Exile took its oath, establishing democratic governance in exile. As a result, the entire complex was alive with hundreds of Tibetan residents, monks, nuns, lamas, and international visitors assembled in festive harmony.
This was my very first time witnessing Tibetan Buddhist culture, monastic architecture, and traditions so intimately. In striking contrast to traditional Hindu temple architecture, the complex offered an entirely different sensory and spiritual aura. There were no booming bells or piercing conch blasts; rather, a meditative tranquility prevailed, punctuated by the rhythmic whirring of spinning prayer wheels and colorful prayer flags (lungta) fluttering in the breeze.
In honor of Democracy Day, cultural performances were staged across the courtyard by performers across generations. From young school children to older youths, participants wore vibrant traditional Tibetan chuba garments. One striking detail caught my eye: both the male and female dancers wore long hair. The young men appeared to have woven in traditional extensions, with their hair plaited into neat braids, whereas the women let their hair flow free. They played an acoustic, lute-like stringed instrument bearing a strong resemblance to a guitar or sarod. I learned that this instrument is called the dramyin-its notes are subtle, mellow, and melodic.
Historical Context: Buddhism
in India and the Tsuglagkhang
India stands as the ancestral cradle of Buddhism. In the sixth century BCE, Siddhartha Gautama attained enlightenment beneath the Bodhi tree in Bodh Gaya and set the Wheel of Dhamma in motion at Sarnath. Centuries later, under the patronage of Emperor Ashoka, the faith crossed boundaries into Tibet, China, Japan, Sri Lanka, and Southeast Asia. Within the Himalayan plateau of Tibet, it flourished into the distinct Vajrayana tradition.
A pivotal turning point in modern history occurred in 1959. Following China’s military suppression of Tibet, the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, undertook an arduous escape across the high Himalayas into India alongside thousands of Tibetan refugees. India’s then Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, granted him asylum and later offered McLeod Ganj as a settlement base. Since then, the town has served as the headquarters of the Central Tibetan Administration, earning worldwide renown as "Little Lhasa."
The Tsuglagkhang temple stands directly opposite the official residence of the Dalai Lama. Inside its sanctum reside three monumental statues: Shakyamuni Buddha at the center, Guru Padmasambhava to the left, and the eleven-headed Avalokiteshvara (Chenrezig), the Bodhisattva of Compassion, to the right.
The statue of Avalokiteshvara carries a poignant history. During the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s, the historic Jokhang Temple in Lhasa was vandalized, and its revered, centuries-old Avalokiteshvara image was broken. Devoted Tibetans risked their lives to rescue fragments of the sacred face and smuggle them across the border into India. When this new statue was consecrated in McLeod Ganj, the Dalai Lama enshrined those salvaged fragments within its core. Thus, for Tibetans, the shrine serves not only as a place of worship, but also as a sacred symbol of their enduring cultural survival.
Notable Sights Across McLeod
Ganj and Dharamshala
McLeod Ganj and Dharamshala offer a wealth of cultural, historical, and trekking destinations:
- Spiritual and Cultural Landmarks: The Tsuglagkhang Complex, Namgyal Monastery, the historic St. John in the Wilderness Church, the rock-cut shrines of Masroor (frequently hailed as the Ellora of the Himalayas), the Tibetan Museum, the Norbulingka Institute (dedicated to preserving traditional Tibetan arts, woodwork, and thangka painting), Naam Art Gallery, the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts (TIPA), and serene meditation retreats like the Vipassana Centre.
- Scenic Landscapes and Hiking Trails: The celebrated Triund trek, the ancient Bhagsunath Shiva temple alongside Bhagsunag waterfall, Dal Lake, the bohemian village of Dharamkot, Naddi viewpoint for panoramic sunsets, Kareri Lake, Minkiani Pass, Indrahar Pass, Maharana Pratap Sagar (Pong Dam Lake), Gunna Devi temple, and the ramparts of Kangra Fort.
Exploring by Alto 800:
Bhagsunag and St. John in the Wilderness
Leaving the temple complex, we headed over to the neighboring taxi stand and hired a Maruti Suzuki Alto 800. Across Dharamshala and McLeod Ganj, roughly 90 percent of local taxis belong to this model line. Its light curb weight, tight turning radius, and responsive gearing make it uniquely suited to negotiate steep gradients-often reaching 40 to 45 degrees-and extremely tight lanes. We arranged with the driver to take us to a few surrounding sights, stop for lunch, and drop us back at our hotel in Dharamshala by evening.
Our first stop was the Bhagsunag Temple and Waterfall. Reaching the falls requires walking past the temple complex. My companions preferred not to enter the inner sanctum, so we paid our respects from outside and pressed toward the trail. The path leading up to the waterfall is rough and unpaved, devoid of proper masonry stairs; visitors must navigate uneven boulders and slick stone paths. Helping each other across trickier footholds, we climbed halfway up before pulling up at a small open-air mountain stall set along the ridge.
The stall enjoyed an open vantage point looking straight out across the valley and toward the misty cascades. By now, the midday mountain air had made us ravenous. We ordered piping-hot bowls of masala Maggi. Savoring hot noodles while watching wreaths of cloud weave across mountain crevices remains an quintessentially Himalayan delight.
Afterward, we drove over to St. John in the Wilderness Church, nestled within deep deodar forests near Forsyth Ganj. Built in 1852, this historic Anglican sanctuary stands as an atmospheric example of Neo-Gothic stone architecture. Its dark-hewn masonry walls and ornate Belgian stained-glass windows give it an imposing, solemn beauty.
Remarkably, the church survived the catastrophic 1905 Kangra earthquake that leveled most structures across the valley. In its surrounding churchyard lies the memorial and stone tomb of Lord Elgin, the former Viceroy of India who passed away in Dharamshala in 1863. Towering deodars, damp pine-needles, chirping woodland birds, and century-old stone gravestones lend the grounds a timeless, contemplative stillness. We decided not to disturb any services inside, choosing instead to admire the exterior grounds, take a few photographs, and continue our circuit.
Dal Lake, a Sudden Downpour,
and Common Ground Cafe
From the church, our driver headed toward McLeod Ganj’s own Dal Lake. While borrowing the name of Kashmir’s famed waterbody, this is a much smaller, quiet natural tarn framed by towering deodar and rhododendron trees, with a small Shiva shrine on its banks.
Just as we pulled up and stepped out, the mountain skies turned turbulent. Thick dark clouds swept in, and a heavy, relentless downpour broke out. Mountain rainfall arrives with little warning. Having no umbrellas on hand, we sprinted under the tin roof of a small roadside shelter by the lake shore. Cold wind and driving spray soaked through our clothes. We remained stranded there for well over an hour as temperatures plummeted. Mobile connectivity was spotty at best. Eventually, our driver came walking through the sheets of rain carrying an umbrella, guiding the four of us back to the car. His thoughtfulness felt like a genuine rescue.
With sight-seeing rendered impossible by the rain and our stomachs growling, the driver drove us through town toward Swarg Ashram Road (off Tushita Road) to drop us at Common Ground Cafe.
Run by a local Tibetan family, the cafe welcomed us with a cozy, inviting ambiance. It featured wooden furnishings, traditional Tibetan thangka prints on the walls, and soft, mellow music that provided relief from the cold rain outside. The kitchen specialized in authentic, home-style Tibetan and regional family recipes.
Looking at the menu, I found myself entirely out of my depth. Beyond ubiquitous staples like steamed momos or thukpa, authentic Tibetan preparations were new to me. Rather than guessing, I deferred to one of my fellow travelers and asked them to pick for me. What arrived was a distinct preparation of chilled, handmade noodles dressed in a lightly spiced, savory-tangy broth, garnished with freshly peeled raw peanuts.
The meal was served alongside wooden chopsticks. Having watched people use them effortlessly on television, I assumed it would be straightforward. In reality, my attempts to lift the slick noodles ended in comedy, with noodles slipping right back into the bowl. After several minutes of unsuccessful maneuvering while my companions looked on in amusement, I conceded defeat and politely asked the server for a regular fork. Using the fork, I thoroughly enjoyed the dish. Its flavors, textures, and temperatures were entirely distinct from anything I was accustomed to, yet surprisingly delightful.
By the time we stepped out, night was falling, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. Maneuvering narrow mountain switchbacks in the dark under heavy rain carries real hazards, so we agreed to head straight back down to our hotel in Dharamshala.
The Mountain Road from McLeod
Ganj to Dharamshala
The descending road connecting McLeod Ganj to lower Dharamshala is as technically demanding as it is scenic. Spanning roughly 9 to 10 kilometers, the asphalt ribbon is exceedingly narrow and crowded with sharp hairpin bends. One side hugs steep, exposed rock faces while the other drops into sheer, unprotected ravines.
That evening, dense fog had settled heavily over the tarmac, reducing forward visibility to barely five meters. Runoff from the upper slopes cascaded across the road surface like shallow torrents. Sitting inside, we felt a natural sense of caution. Yet our cab driver navigated with extraordinary skill-easing through switchbacks, honking reliably ahead of every blind turn, and maintaining a steady, measured pace. The road sense and composure of Himalayan drivers under difficult conditions is genuinely admirable. By around 6:00 PM, we pulled up safely outside our hotel.
Workshop Sessions, Local
Conversations, and Missed Destinations
September 3 and 4 were dedicated entirely to the workshop sessions at the Central University of Himachal Pradesh. Scholars, researchers, and students from diverse corners of India had gathered, sparking engaging conversations, technical learning, and lively exchanges of ideas around open knowledge and documentation.
In between sessions, we spent time conversing with local students, neighborhood cafe hosts, and roadside shopkeepers. Their unhurried lifestyle, warm demeanor, and hospitality toward outsiders left an enduring impression. Mountain life carries daily physical demands and hardships, yet nearly everyone we met greeted us with sincere warmth and an easy smile. They shared stories about seasonal shifts in weather, the winter freeze, and how the snow lines across the Dhauladhar peaks have subtly receded over recent years compared to decades past.
One disappointment lingered: I could not tour the celebrated HPCA International Cricket Stadium. Positioned against the direct backdrop of the snow-capped Dhauladhar mountains, it is widely considered one of the most visually stunning sporting arenas on earth. Unfortunately, the facility was closed to the public at the time due to extensive turf renovation and infield construction work. We could only glimpse its brightly painted roofs from outside before turning back.
Due to our tight schedules, we also had to bypass long hikes like the Triund ridge trek, alongside distant landmarks like Kangra Fort, the Norbulingka Institute, Masroor Rock-Cut Temple, and Naddi viewpoint. Yet, leaving a few destinations unvisited is often a blessing in disguise-it leaves an open invitation to return.
The Return Journey:
Landslides, Sunset, and Farewell
On the afternoon of September 4, the university sessions drew to a close. Some friends from Punjab had driven up in their personal car; they kindly offered to drive me down to Chandigarh so I could catch my return transit.
Leaving the mountains behind stirred a bittersweet feeling. As our vehicle wound down from Dharamshala toward the plains, the views through the passenger windows were spellbinding. Late afternoon sunlight was softening behind the ridges, painting the sky in changing shades of gold, amber, and deep crimson. Looking down into the valleys, stretches of the Beas River caught the twilight glow.
Further down the highway, we came upon the aftermath of the torrential rains from earlier in the week: a sizeable landslide had brought down boulders, earth, and broken brush, blocking the main carriageway. Fortunately, local road crews and earth-moving machinery had already been deployed; one lane had been cleared and opened to alternating traffic. We passed through the bottleneck with only a brief wait.
Once clear of the landslide zone, our driver pulled over near a scenic roadside viewpoint housing a small tea stall. Standing against the cool breeze and watching the dusk settle over the low hills, we celebrated our safe passage with one final round of hot masala Maggi and ginger tea. The simple ritual seemed to wash away all road fatigue. Truly, no trip through the Indian mountains feels complete without a hot bowl of Maggi.
Later that evening, we reached Chandigarh safely, and from there I made my way through New Delhi back home to Bhubaneswar.
A Memorable Chapter
That 2022 journey to Dharamshala and McLeod Ganj was far more than an academic workshop. It was a refreshing pause, an encounter with the high Himalayas, and a meaningful window into Tibetan culture and living history. From the aerial glide across the canopy on the ropeway and the peaceful dignity of the Dalai Lama Temple on Tibetan Democracy Day, to the quiet solitude of St. John in the Wilderness, navigating sudden cloudbursts by Dal Lake, grappling with chopsticks at the cafe, and watching the sunset with a steaming bowl of roadside noodles-each memory remains deeply cherished. The warmth, landscapes, and quiet majesty of Himachal continue to live brightly in my thoughts.
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