Trapped in Rajgundha Valley: 4 Days Through Hell and Back

Content Warning: Sexual harrasment.

The night before, I cleaned out my house – the house I had called home for six straight months. The house where I would watch countless paragliders in the sky first thing every morning, where I cooked three meals every day, the house where I could unwind after a long day of working or after hours of socializing. I packed up my things neatly into a bag, gave away leftover groceries to friends and cried my eyes out as I saw the last sunset I would ever see from that big glass window.

The next morning, as groggy as I was with not enough sleep and poofy eyes, I locked up the house behind me and sat in the bus for one last adventure before I finally left Bir for good. I was nervous yet excited to see what was in store for me for the next couple of days. I hadn’t had a solo adventure in a long time and the unexpected brought with it just a slight tingle of adrenaline that kept me pumped in my seat the entire 5 hours till I reached my destination, Rajgundha Valley.

The Arrival

All I knew about Rajgundha Valley was that there was a Zostel and a couple of other campsites where one could crash. Since I had decided a few solid days here exploring the many hikes the region had on offer, I was eagerly hoping that I would find a cheap place with a room or a bunk bed available. Zostel was lucrative, but I did not have that kind of money to shell out. But I had it left all up to fate – I’ll figure it out I thought to myself the entire journey.

Somewhere around Barot, a man probably in his late fifties or early sixties got on the bus. When the driver decided he needed a tea break, our eyes met and I smiled and mumbled a namaste. “Headed to Zostel?”, he asked me. I stood out – it was obvious I was a tourist – the only one with a rucksack, the only evidently non-Himachali person on the bus. I told him I was yet to make a booking, I didn’t know where I was sleeping that night. He told me about his campsite near the Rajgundha village where he also has two rooms with attached bathrooms in case I wanted to check it out. Bingo, I thought – I knew I could count on fate. As we spoke further, we learned that we had been neighbours all this while in Bir. His house was barely a 5 minutes walk from where I was living. Then we found out some mutual connections – “do you know this person? How about that person? Oh, yes she’s a good friend.” And so it went.

Once we got off the bus at Bara Gram, we hitched a ride with a truck carrying ration for the village – a sack of chips, a few sacks of potatoes, maybe some tomatoes. After checking out Mr Simal’s place, I decided to take it up. Hot water, attached bathroom, enough quilts – didn’t need more for a good night’s rest after I spend the days hiking here. When I asked for the charges, “don’t worry about it, we’ll throw in a good price for you – we’re neighbours after all!” is what he told me. Fate must really be doing its magic, eh!?

The Hike

I was welcomed to Rajgundha Valley with a brilliantly sunny, cloudless sky with the crispness of autumn, on my first morning. The colours of June 19 Cafe and Camps (the place where I was staying) stood so perfectly well with the blueness of the sky. I decided I wanted to hike to Plachak Valley and Mr Simal decided to come along. Having learned that I drink the previous night while we were warming ourselves up by the fire at June 19 campsite, he asked me if I wanted to try the local homemade jaggery liquor ten minutes into our hike. Apparently, a shepherd who had his hut nearby makes it but I told him there I was not interested in drinking on our hike. “Oh, it’s not for right now, silly. It’s for tonight” he told me, and so I agreed.

We hiked all the way to Plachak, had lunch there while I got lessons on which mountain is which and which trails lead to where. He told me folklores about Himalayan griffons and the story of the local deity, Ajaypal. On the way back, he decided that we should take a rest stop and feast on the pomegranate he’d been carrying all along the hike. With that, he also fished out the bottle of the jaggery liquor he had purchased. “What’s the point in carrying this back, let’s just finish it here” he suggested. I was strongly opposed to that idea and I made myself clear – “I don’t want to drink right now, I told you before as well”. But he insisted that what wrong would one drink do. We went back and forth for a while, with me constantly telling him I didn’t want it and him assuring me that it’s “just one drink” until I finally gave in. Then one drink turned into three and I was tipsy in the middle of the day, in the middle of a hike and annoyed by it because I never wanted any of it.

He then asked me that my legs must be aching. No pains, I told him – just general tiredness. But he kept insisting that my legs are aching and I’m just being polite. He offered to massage my legs. I declined it but he insisted that I needed the massage to cure the pain in my legs that he insisted I was having and that I needed to stop being so formal with him. By this time, he was already pressing my calves while I continued to tell him that I didn’t need it – that I didn’t want it. But the next thing I knew he had pulled my trousers up to my knee and continued on with the massage. Before he could get on to my other leg, I pulled away and told him that was enough.

I was silent as we began our walk back and he asked me if I was okay – “you’re not talking anymore”. The audacity! I mumbled that everything is okay and that I’m just trying to enjoy the walk and for some reason, he thought what I said was hilarious. So hilarious that he felt the need to pull me in for a side hug and kiss me on the cheek. In the middle of a forest, tipsy and surrounded by only trees and mountains for the next few kilometres, I didn’t say anything, kept my head down and continued walking at an unreachable distance from him, slowing down purposefully if I had to. We didn’t speak a single word after that. Having hiked 15 kilometres in 7 hours, I stuffed myself with 4 bread omelettes at 6 pm upon reaching my room before crashing for the night at 7 pm, angry and tired.

The Tent

I woke up the next morning at 7 to an overcast sky. I had planned of hiking up to Hanuman Garh but I wasn’t sure how successful my plans would be now, given the weather. Simal Ji’s son, Manjeet (or Manu as he is mostly known in the region) asked me if I want to go on the hike regardless. With the weather and the previous day’s incident, I was apprehensive but I decided to give it a shot anyway. Manu told me the way to Chaina Pass (the base of Hanuman Garh hike) is a mere walk anyway. With umbrellas in our hands, we decided we’d just stop at Chaina Pass if the weather didn’t clear. Moreover, I thought to myself, this is a much younger fellow – just over thirty – brought up in a big city like Chandigarh, who has worked several corporate-level jobs. I probably won’t have a bad time with him. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The entire walk up to Chaina Pass was fantastic. Chaina Pass is basically the mid-point between Billing and Rajgundha. Once we reached Chaina, we decided to stop for chai at Manu’s friend’s campsite. It’s a beautiful campsite with geodesic domes under construction. The campsite in itself is a great base camp for several hikes in the surrounding area. Manu and I had some chai and Maggi for lunch and decided to explore the meadows and forests around the campsite itself because going further up to Hanuman Garh didn’t seem feasible at all. We returned to the campsite at dusk and we all sat huddled up in the small kitchen by the fire, drinking homemade jaggery liquor, listening to songs and enjoying each other’s company. This isn’t bad – I thought to myself.

When it was time for bed, the campsite hosts gave us a massive 4 man tent with mattresses, blankets and pillows for both of us. Manu switched off the lights and both of us got into our own bed for the night. I was just preparing to go to sleep when Manu asked me, “do you want to sleep together?” I froze. I was absolutely dumbfounded at what my ears were hearing. I shot Manu a dirty look and asked him, “what?” to give him a chance to undo what he had just done. But he only continued to repeat what he had asked, “I’m saying do you want to sleep together?” I was beyond uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to respond to this so I just mumbled a small “I’m okay”. But he didn’t stop there. He had the audacity to ask me again, “do you want to sleep together? With me?” This time I was more stern. I told him, “I said no, I don’t want to sleep together. I am okay this way”.

He didn’t say anything to me after that. And while I was still processing the shock of what had just happened, I heard him blissfully snoring in his sleep. I can still taste the fury to this day. I remember losing all sleep because of what that man had said and there he was snoring away to glory with not so much as a hint of remorse. I didn’t sleep an inch that night. I would just lay with my eyes close, ready to defend myself should something worse happen. I kept imagining scenarios in my head and preparing my reaction so I’m not taken off guard this time, all the while Manu snored away the entire night. Each time he would turn in his sleep, my eyes would shoot open and I would be waiting for the next worse thing to happen. But it didn’t. At the first crack of light, I got out of the tent. I really needed that fresh air after being suffocated all night. Was I supposed to feel grateful that this is all that happened? Because I sure as hell didn’t.

In the middle of a forest, with no network connectivity, and a storm raging the entire night, I don’t think I’ve felt as helpless and powerless as I did that night. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as it turns out. I just wanted to go home.

The Repetetive Patterns

The next morning, once Manu was finally awake from his deep slumber, he said to me, “Sorry if I troubled you too much last night. I had had one too many drinks”. I just looked at him dead in the eye, with no interest in his non-apology and continued warming my hand by the fire.

The walk back to Rajgundha was dead quiet. I had no interest in initiating a conversation and he didn’t seem to have much to say either. It worked for me, I just wanted to be left alone. It felt ridiculous to me that I didn’t have any other option but to walk back in the same direction with my harasser. We stopped for breakfast at a guest house called A Day in Rajgundha which is run by some far-away relative of Manu’s. We ate in silence and by the time we were done, I learned that because of last night’s storm there was a landslide at the construction site at Tikker Bridge and no buses would be coming in today.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Did that mean I had to stay one more night in the same vicinity as my harrassers? It just couldn’t be. I tried to think of multiple options out of this hellish nightmare, but nothing seemed to work out. The owner of A Day in Rajgundha, Mr Madan, kept reassuring me that I can spend the night in his guest house and he has to drive to Bir tomorrow in the morning anyway so he can take me. I had emptied my vessel of trust and I didn’t have any more to give, but it seemed like I had no other option.

That day, during lunch itself, I made it clear to Manu that I want a separate room to myself and that I wouldn’t be sharing with him. He told me, but I think the entire guest house is booked. Was he dumb? Or did he think I was dumb? The entire guest house was empty. The last guests checked out in front of me. I told him, “there’s not a single guest here. I want a separate room to myself and that’s it.” I spent the entire day in my room, just trying to refresh my energy and spend some time with myself. I needed it.

Before dinnertime, Madan Ji had made a fire and he and Manu were sitting, drinking when I joined. They offered me a drink as well but I refused. I spoke to Madan Ji and his relative who had come to visit the entire night and didn’t speak a single word to Manu. But after the relative left and each time Madan Ji would go in the kitchen to check on dinner, Manu would ask me – “let’s just sleep in the same room no”. “We’ll sleep in different blankets”. “There is no room available”. He even went as far as “If we don’t share a room, I’ll have to walk back all the way to June 19 in the night”. I told him “okay, then go to June 19. I told you in the morning itself that I want a separate room. And stop asking me again and again you’re embarrassing yourself”. That was the last I heard of it. I had been enjoying talking to Madan Ji but I had left to feel shitty again so I just gobbled up dinner and locked myself in the room for the night.

The Mountain of Relief

The next morning, Madan Ji, Manu and I walked down to June 19 so I could pay the bill for my stay at the campsite and we could leave. Once we reached there, I asked Manu how much do I owe him, he told me, “give me whatever”. I told him to give me a number and he evaded the question constantly. Finally, when it was time for me to leave, I asked him one last time “so, are you telling me how much I need to give you or should I leave?” At that, he told me, I can give him “3-4000”. THREE TO FOUR THOUSAND!? For three nights in a basic AF accommodation with very normal food and two harassers in the name of hosts? I gave him 3000 rupees and started to leave. Manu said to me, “It was really nice meeting you. If I’ve made any mistakes, please forgive me”. I just stared him dead in the eye, picked up my bags and turned around and walked to Madan Ji’s car.

The entire car ride I was anxious. Madan Ji was a nice man who kept making conversation every now and then. But I didn’t feel like myself until we had left Barot Valley way far behind and the first sight of Big Face and the Twin Peaks – mountains overlooking Bir – was finally in front of me. I remember heaving a huge sigh of relief and thinking to myself, I am finally going home”.

The Aftermath

I think about the whole episode often enough. When there’s nothing much to do and I’m sitting with myself, my mind often wanders back to those four days, again and again, each time without warning, each time leaving me feeling worse than the last time.

I can’t recount my time in Rajgundha Valley to strangers or acquaintances, to even friends without having to bite my tongue each time I talk about it. Each time I speak of Rajgundha, each time I have to describe its beautiful valleys and stunning hikes – heck, each time I have to even think about the place – I have an almost uncontrollable urge to scream out what happened to me there. I always imagine it would feel lighter, much better, the more I take it out of my system. I always imagine that the more I recount it over and over again, it’ll help me not get haunted by the memories of it.

But you see, I’m forced to keep it inside. I bite my tongue and continue talking about Rajgundha like all was good and rosy because I cannot always trust the person standing in front of me to give an appropriate response. No, scratch that. I cannot always trust the person standing in front of me to not give a response at all. What I need when I narrate this story is for the person to not say anything. To just listen, to allow me the space to speak of my pain and to not let it flourish further with conversation. But instead, I almost always get questions – “why didn’t you shut it down?” “Why didn’t you just leave?” And if it’s not questions, it’s unsolicited advice. “You should’ve called the police.” “You should’ve should’ve just left.”

Silence is so underrated.

I wish people understood that someone sharing their trauma is not an invitation to ask questions or give advice no one asked for. I wish people learned to be careful of boundaries, to be mindful of overstepping, to apologize when they do. But this is all wishful thinking so I just swallow it up and pretend like it never happened and let it haunt me in times of stillness instead.

Final Words

I heave a sigh of relief as this post comes to an end. It’s been over a month since this incident and it’s been extremely difficult to recall those memories to put out here. But I know I have to. I have to make sure that no other female traveller ends up at June 19 Cafe and Camps and has to go through the same ordeal I did. I rave about all the good memories my travels leave me with. So I also feel it’s my responsibility to share the dark and not-so-happy side of it all well.

So here’s what not to do while visiting Rajgundha Valley – don’t stay in June 19 Cafe and Camps. The campsite is located right beside the newly constructed bridge at Gharsa. Avoid it especially if you’re a solo female traveller. I would recommend A Day in Rajgundha without skipping a beat. I felt really safe there (despite Manu’s attempts to make me feel otherwise).

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