Late afternoon we reached Bhagsu-Nag, which had the Bhagsu-Nag temple and a waterfall. Our driver kindly narrated the story of King Bhagsu who had unwittingly drank water from the lake meant for Nag Devata, earning its wrath. In the fight that ensued the king was defeated and then pardoned. The temple was created to commemorate the event, although I have a feeling some part of the story is missing here. Shiva should have figured in at some point but the tablet I had taken for motion sickness was kicking in, I was too docile to ask anything.
The modest looking temple had many steps to climb and there were quite a few people so we went to the falls which needed a wee bit of walking. Dad was too tired so he sat down at the base of the temple while I urged my mom to give it a try and join us as far as she could. She came with us till mid way from where we could see the water falling from tall recesses way above and a lot of people thronging around at its foot. There was a path off the main one, which we followed to reach the lower rocks around which the stream from the waterfall snaked through, forming little pools of water. It was so clear that you could see the rocks gleaming beneath in the sun.
Everybody abandoned their footwear and hopped on different boulders to wet their feet. Yours truly was too lazy to part with her hiking boots and hence walked around boulders, clicking pictures to her heart's fill. When it was time to leave, I climbed back the same way I came and reached the spot my brother had stowed away his shoes. As I climbed from there I lost grip on a small nook I had placed my feet on and went sliding down the sloping rock, head first but slowly as I was told later. I knew I was falling but I don't remember trying to do anything, I don't think I screamed. I had closed my eyes and at one point it felt like I stopped, I tried to hold on to something but then I couldn't and I slid again and in time I hit water and I thought I was floating, the current carrying me downwards. I remember thinking this is how it ends. In my head I had images of me just getting washed away in the falls, like they show in movies. Then I heard my brother asking me to stand up and I realized I was being too dramatic in very shallow waters, I just had to stand.
Luckily I was not hurt despite the rocks and boulders. My brother had cuts on his back and ankle in trying to save me, he had turned me around so I didn't fall head first. I could feel pain at my hips, right knee, my arms but nothing too major. But for someone who didn't want to wet her feet, I was soaking in water, head to toe. The hilarity of the situation or the nerves from the adrenaline rush kept me giggling all the way back into the Bhagsu Nag market where I bought my "pahadi" kurta, a loose fitting jeans and "Pink" crocs - with hearts on the sides of the sole, in white and all shades of pink and a green shrek face at the front.
The Bhagsu Nag temple has a small "pushkarni" and a larger swimming pool. I hoped that meant there might be a changing room, which wasn't to be. So I headed to a lodge and requested for a room to change. The manager was kind enough to oblige. My brother found a place near the swimming pool to change. And our little mis-adventure meant we could not see anything more in McCleod Ganj today.
We stopped at a viewpoint on the way and bumped into a couple of ex-army men, one of whom hails from a place near Mysore. He was narrating his story while we drank our tea and ate the local doughnuts enjoying the view of Dauladhar peaks.
Leaving you with this lovely poem by Billy Collins called 'The art of drowning'. How perfect.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=38176
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