"A house for Ladakhi and Tibetan Curios and Curiosities"
I think it was the word curiosities, which spiked mine up. I wanted to go into the little unassuming shop with the dusty board and the hazy display showcasing odd silvery objects, studded with jade and other precious stones I could never hope to name. A half-meter silvery pipe, slender and graceful, with a minute cup, about the size of half a walnut, upfront, proudly adorned the central glass shelf. We stepped in and it seemed we stepped through a portal of time and space into a room which belonged to the silver age probably. Brightly painted and embroidered banners and wall flaps adorned half a wall. Rest of the walls were stacked up to the ceiling with a million other 'curios and curiosities'. A bit like Diagon Alley where at the first glance you wanted to watch everything but had to keep your eyes fixed in one direction, feeling the for about eight more eyes!
I was at a blessed heaven on earth, Leh, where it seems God forgot to put the very human tendencies of rudeness, unfriendliness and plain boorishness into the hearts of the people. 475 km from Manali is this place, still untouched by the excesses of modern tourism, which incidentally has wasted Manali. Maybe its just the grueling journey, maybe the prohibitive cost of air travel, fact is, Leh still has that old world feeling that many other 'hill stations' have totally lost.
It was at this hermit kingdom that we spotted Little Tibet, the aforementioned charming little place. I remember it vividly. Indeed full of curiosities. Animal shaped locks with the tail as the key and the tongue as the latch. A multitude of Tibetan praying wheels, called 'Maaney', in various types, wooden, and metal and ivory, hand held and those meant to adorn table tops. Flaps with intricately beautiful embroidery, depicting various religious Tibetan symbols. And paintings. Small and Large and Medium with natural colours and delicate shadings, devoted to the Lord Buddha and various stages of his life. Oh and Uncle. An ordinary old chap, with patchy skin and sandy hair, complete with the spectacles and smiles to match an Uncle character right out of a Wodehouse story.
I guess the first thought that flits through the mind of an antique shop owner on seeing a bunch of early twenty somethings is "Typical window shoppers who will look around feigning interest and in the end buy a cheap pendant or ring or maybe even a bracelet. Not much prospect and certainly not worth wasting an hour delivering my whole anecdotes collection on them". Well Ashraf Uncle was different from your ordinary antique dealer in the sense that he really loved his 'Little Tibet' and each of its lovingly polished curiosities, all of which came with a story that he inevitably knew..
For instance the European guy who offered to buy the pipe displayed in the window for a King’s ransom. Or Uncle’s friend, the painter, who only depicted the life of Buddha in his work and the fascinating colors he used from flowers and ground stone. It took him about a week for the larger paintings. Then there were stories about buying the antiquities for a basket of potatoes and onions at the time when food was scarce in the valley. And of course stories of the region. We were respectfully silent as he described the ancient charmed monasteries. We felt the breathtakingly scenic Nubra valley and the cool wind from the gigantic Pangong lake, part of which was in Chinese territory.
We didn't end up buying much of course. A half inch exquisitely crafted jade Buddha pendant was my most cherished curiosity though. Mine the moment I set eyes on it. A curio from the valley of memories.
The thing is that the charm of Leh never fades. Be it the first visit or the fifteenth. In part due to the harmonious valley sights and sounds. The harsh desert, so eerily beautiful in its white silence. Maybe due to the charming little anecdotes and the mementoes one digs up after the sands of time have settled on the memories. One remembers the minute details, the way the stars seem like massive silver coins on a clear night in Sarchhu and how the grass smells at the first ray of light. Most of all, one remembers the people. The chai walla who warmed your bones with some soupy maggi and a steaming cup of tea. The next door restaurant whose owner didn’t mind you sitting there watching tennis. And the old man from an era bygone who was easy with the tales. The little things are what make this hermit kingdom a dream destination.
The thing is that the charm of Leh never fades. Be it the first visit or the fifteenth. In part due to the harmonious valley sights and sounds. The harsh desert, so eerily beautiful in its white silence. Maybe due to the charming little anecdotes and the mementoes one digs up after the sands of time have settled on the memories. One remembers the minute details, the way the stars seem like massive silver coins on a clear night in Sarchhu and how the grass smells at the first ray of light. Most of all, one remembers the people. The chai walla who warmed your bones with some soupy maggi and a steaming cup of tea. The next door restaurant whose owner didn’t mind you sitting there watching tennis. And the old man from an era bygone who was easy with the tales. The little things are what make this hermit kingdom a dream destination.
PS: I did it! :)
