Ink On The Move – Icebreaker At Munsiyari

In Part 1 of Ink On The Move, Jennifer Nandi told us about the fortuitous events that conspired to make her an author. Having self-published No Half Measures, she embarked on a DIY book tour with a little help from her friends. In the second part of this series, we travel with Jennifer to the beautiful Himalayan village of Munsiyari, which is equally picturesque as her prose. Here, she finds unexpected admiration among the women of the village…

When Ashish Verma approached me to contribute to an upcoming women’s empowerment festival at Munsiyari, I was intrigued. He had organised such events in the past, under the rubric “Himalayan Bounty”. This year’s event, inspired by local farming practices and its diverse local cuisine, would highlight the indigenous flavours and traditions of the mountains. He urged me to join in as it would provide a platform to amplify my voice and share my experiences, inspiring other women to pursue their passions and overcome challenges. This was an exciting prospect as I was assured of a launch date for my book in the calendar of events scheduled at Munsiyari.  

Showcasing my book and sharing my stories at this festival would also allow me to connect with like-minded individuals, and contribute to the larger conversation on gender equality and empowerment. I’m sure there are hundreds of women who are powerful examples of resilience and determination. But as I have written ‘No Half Measures,’ which showcases the strengths and capabilities that we women have in navigating difficult terrains and achieving our goals independently, I was more than eager to be part of this endeavour.

Spurred on by such inputs and in my romantic imagination, I plotted my getaway to the picturesque hill station in the Pithoragarh district of Uttarakhand, at an altitude of 7,200 ft. If the weather held, the imposing mountain peaks of Panchchuli , Nanda Devi, and Nanda Kot would all be visible. 

At the base of the Great Himalayan mountain range, at about 7,218 feet (2200m), Munsiyari is on the ancient salt route from Tibet, at the head of the Johar Valley, which extends along the path of the Gori Ganga River to its source at the Milam Glacier which is just 60 km from Munsiyari. 

Logistically, Munsiyari is challenging—it’s a 16-hour drive, so I would need to schedule a halt enroute. I held my head in my hands as I thought of cabs and drivers to hire when, just like that, a friend and fellow adventurer walked in, eager to join me. I was thrilled. He’s a photographer with an interest in birds and wildlife, and is a great travel companion. But more than that, he would add incredible value to the trip ahead. He planned all the logistics and, one morning, we loaded up his vehicle and set off.  

A Himalayan Bounty in Munsiyari

It was unseasonably warm in Munsiyari and as we shed our jackets, wished that we’d packed more summer wear. Melting glaciers high above sent waterfalls cascading onto the road. We halted at every splashing of icy water, breathing deeply the crisp, cool mountain air.  

All the village homestays in Munsiyari are run by a collective called ‘Himalayan Ark’. The hillsides are clothed in Ainsliaea and Synplocus species, in oregano, holly, and anemone. Trees of walnut, laurel, and horse-chestnut surrounded us. There were a few maple trees too, and not least of all, the ubiquitous Cannabis.  

Drawn from different parts of the country and from all walks of life, highly motivated young people rallied around. It was invigorating to meet them, be part of their enthusiasm and, of course, I lost no time in telling them about my book. They couldn’t wait for its launch the following day. But the launch didn’t happen. So, not to be disheartened, I waited for my moment. It arrived when everyone, except for 15 village women, had been sent off to watch birds in the nearby forest.  

I had prepared a couple of paragraphs from a chapter in my book adding a humorous twist in conversational Hindi—for just this moment. It pays to be prepared! As I spoke, the village women, who had been industriously cutting, chopping, and sorting ingredients for the next day’s festive meal, dropped their chores to laugh so heartily that tears of joy dripped onto the vegetables. In that moment, I felt the powerful connection I was making, and it felt incredibly rewarding.  

I had forged a connection with the village women, despite the differences in our language, dress, and way of life. Through my reading, I discovered a shared understanding—a bond that transcended our differences. It was a connection that resonated deeply, woman to woman, in ways that only women can truly comprehend. We found common ground in experiences and emotions that often go unspoken, things that men might not notice, but that unite us as women. And in that, I succeeded.

Later that same evening, back at our homestay, before everyone settled down for a sundowner, I gathered a small group of interested listeners under a majestic deodar tree, a point of congress for village folk. In the last rays of the dying sun, I shared nuggets of my life and read out a chapter. They bought a few copies and we made a pact to meet up at Dehradun, or Bombay, or somewhere later in the year. 

I’d had my launch, and I was happy. 

Because Munsiyari doesn’t want to say goodbye

Munsiyari is beautiful. The hikes are delightful.  Wildflowers and wild raspberries amid birch trees distract you from the stunning mountain views. Where does one focus? Before leaving, we scheduled an early morning hike to Thamri Kund, a nearby high-altitude lake, surrounded by dense alpine forests offering stunning views of the Panchachuli peaks. 

Sunlight glinted off the wet rocks of the alpine hillside, pooling around the scrub that sparkled as if dusted with jewels. We watched in a mindful hushed silence as the Himalayan Monal, a bird of breathtaking iridescence, foraged through the undergrowth, allowing us enough time to drink in its vivid colours before the camera captured its beauty. 

This is why I watch birds—it keeps my consciousness alive as I deliberately step into this infinite wonder of opening my heart and mind, enabling me to enter the world of reality. I was ready to go home. 

Well, almost.  

I had an appointment to keep—at The Wood Owl Cottage, Satoli, with my good friends Sanjay and Sunita, who run their superbly designed cottage as a fashionable homestay. In the comfort of the living room, my hosts had brought together the right people, who were sufficiently enthused to hear about the book for which they travelled for an hour through winding roads. It was within this warm and welcoming atmosphere that I kicked off the session with brief introductions of the author and the book. To pique interest I highlighted the book’s themes and shared intriguing elements. But the group wanted more and I gave them as much.

They were keen to hear the personal side of my experiences, especially the challenges and triumphs I faced as a woman in male-dominated spaces. Navigating the world of guiding, especially as a woman among men, is a constant test of resilience and resourcefulness.

A Woman Finds Her Way

I often resist having to prove my worth simply because I’m being underestimated on account of my gender. Usually it’s the egos, attitudes, and unspoken biases that block solutions. I find myself waiting patiently for everybody to expend their energies trying to get the better of each other. I reserve my energies for when they are most needed. But more and more, I find myself constantly seeking to elicit entertainment from situations. It just makes me smile. 

I shared an anecdote from my book with my audience about how at Roing, the border between Assam and Arunachal Pradesh, I cajoled the security guard to let us into the Mishmi Hills and how I confronted the situation head-on. Standoffs don’t help. Walking a tightrope between standing my ground and maintaining harmony in the group means I can’t afford to doubt myself. And I have to be twice as prepared, think faster, and be braver than the rest. And, as in another chapter of my book, The Sticky Incident, I had to know when to back down.

As a guide, I feel the weight of responsibility keenly—keeping everyone safe, making tough calls, and negotiating on behalf of the client, even when it means going against the grain. The journey is never easy.  I remember how much of a challenge going to Namdapha was. In the book, I write about how the new guide had informed us that the camping area and the trekking path was all but washed away. Even the elephants that were to carry our luggage across the raging river, now in flood, would be unable to make the crossing. I overruled his decision to abandon the trip to Namdapha. Having learned that there was a vacant Government PWD rest house, I felt emboldened. It didn’t matter that there was no cook. And so we went, and what a trip it was!  

Every challenge sharpened my resolve, and every victory, no matter how small, felt like a testament to my grit. Even Jungle Travels, the tour operator in Guwahati responsible for our logistics, rose to the task when they realised I meant business. They assisted in our endeavour by augmenting our staff and providing an additional vehicle in the form of a jeep. Our new guide protested that our car, a Toyota Innova, would not make it to the rest house at Namdapha. But I knew that our driver, Raju, had an intrepid spirit of adventure. And, with his able help, we made things work. Even when large boulders had to be shifted from our path, and our guide suggested turning back, I knew that if we didn’t find an alternative path, the client’s entire expedition—and my reputation—would be at risk.

Decisive Under Pressure

Being decisive under pressure and pushing back against the doubts that surrounded me, left no room for hesitation. I had to get my way for the client’s benefit, no matter the pushback. By the end of that day, as we safely reached our destination, the respect I earned was hard-won but deeply satisfying.

“Oh, you must’ve really loved your client,” my audience pronounced after hearing my stories.

“Of course, I did,” I responded. “There was no other way.  But on that list, please don’t forget the driver, and the sweaty security man who threw off his shirt!”  

It’s the romance of venturing into unexplored places that captivates me. Similarly, the romance of eating good food —the delectable presentation, the assailing of one’s nostrils by breathing in aromatic herbs and spices in fat thick slices, and the tickling of the palate. I think I just love myself!  

And before demanding a pay-off, I think about first making a major investment of myself. I often feel that it’s when I’m actually doing a task that I feel a sure reward.  That means it’s all about love or passion. I simply can’t operate without it.  I feel I’m cheating myself.  And that just won’t do. The work would then be slovenly and I’d feel ashamed.  

So yes, being a guide is never just about leading a trail—it’s about leading people, managing conflicts, and being an asset to the enterprise. Each experience shaped me into a tougher, more tenacious version of myself, and I carry those lessons forward, knowing that every hurdle is part of carving my unique path in a field where I often stand alone.

It turned out to be an invigorating book reading, a dynamic and interactive experience.  The reading fostered a lively exchange of ideas. Here, at The Wood Owl Cottage, within this intimate gathering, I was learning more about myself and what people were looking for in my book. Perhaps, this collective engagement enhanced the understanding and enjoyment of the book. Everybody felt as if they were equal participants in the book’s journey. 

It isn’t just a good story that entices people to read a book. They are keenly interested in the personal details, and how brutally honest I can be.  My self-deprecating humour won them over. I was overjoyed, filled with a sense of fulfilment and excitement for the next gathering.

Ink On The Move returns soon with the next episode

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