Malana

The sun-soaked air was filled with dust rising from the road as our ride was making its way uphill on the winding mountain roads. The driver's tiny Maruti Swift kept bouncing from one side of the road to the other, occasionally dangerously close to the edge – a big drop for a small car hardly designed for mountaineous terrain. Large potholes and rocks sticking out dotted the roads that apparently some 4 years ago had been in perfect condition, but thanks to neglect by local politicians, had been let to deteriorate. Indifference that may in the long run claim lives considering how dangerous the moutain roads in Himachal Pradesh can be. Even Himachal, one of the most developed states in India, has not been spared from corruption.

We were on our way to see the village of Malana, a small secluded village on the hills of Parvati Valley in Himachal Pradesh. The village has managed to develop itself a mythical but also infamous reputation amongst backpackers. It is said that the inhabitants of the village of Malana are direct descendants of Alexander the Great's army, who after an arduous journey from Macedonia to the Himalayas decided to desert their leader and settle on the mountains. The way back would have been too much. Allegedly the villagers used to have very distinctly different features compared to the other Himachali people around them, they were said to be almost Greek-looking with light eyes and fairer skin. They also speak a language that is completely incomprehensible to anyone outside the village. The greek ancestry seems to be a myth that the locals like to perpetuate, be it true or not. Other evidence points that there is evidence of the existence of the village in Hindu mythology too. Be it as it may, there are several theories about this, but no tangible proof has been found yet though. The language, Kanashi, also known as rakshas bhasha – demon language, on the other hand has been proven to be a mix of Sanskrit and Sino-Tibetan languages, which makes it completely different from the other languages of Himachal.

This is the mythical side of the story. The village of Malana is also gained an infamous reputation as the home of the best hashish in the world – the Malana Cream. Cannabis grows naturally in abundance on the hills of the village and has always been an important part of the local tradition. Eventually, around 70s, as backpackers were hording to India in search of a party, drugs and enlightenment, some of the more adventurous ones heard stories of a mythical village covered with premium cannabis, growing naturally everywhere. Drug tourism started expanding and the white strangers taught the villagers how to turn the plant into hashish and turn it into a marketable commodity with extremely high demand. The plant had not been used for trade before this in the village. Malana Cream became and international brand amongst cannabis connoisseurs, a luxury treat in the coffee shops of continental Europe. Today, cultivation of cannabis is controlled by European and Israeli drug mafias.

This caught the attention of the local authorities and drug busts became daily. Our car and bags were searched twice on our way out of the village. The village suffered devastating damage due to a big fire in 2008. They say the fire began from a short circuit, but according to a popular rumour, the fire was in fact set by the local police to finally eradicate the vast fields of cannabis, as a result, half of the village burnt down as well, as the houses were mostly of wood. We could still see the burn marks on some of the houses in the village.

Geographical isolation, the tragic fire and the difficult history with the local authorities has made the locals suspicious of any outsiders. We were to experience this as well. After the bumpy car ride and an hour's ascent uphill, we reached the first houses of the village. Walking into the narrow lanes of a place that has gained a reputation of mythical proportions, the first impression was a something of an anticlimax. The general atmosphere in the village reminded me of a scene in the movie Deliverance, where Burt Reynolds and John Voight with their group enter a small hillbilly town in the Appalachian mountains – suspicious villagers were peeking out the eaves of their wooden houses, there was an air of hostility that could be sensed. Outsiders were clearly not welcome, except to buy the charas. Children in village, as anywhere in the world, were excited, friendly and curious, but the adults had historical baggage which explains their bland reception. Even the dogs seemed to be trained to bark at strangers. We met briefly a mixed group of drug tourists, a ragged bunch of israeli dreadheads, who told us not to touch anything. Outsiders are allowed to only walk through one lane in the village and touching of buildings or anything for that matter is punishable by a fine of 1000 rupees. The villagers themselves were extremely wary of not touching any outsiders. Whenever we would pass them on the narrow lanes, they would step aside and stand against the wall or some would even jump and scream, in fear of being touched by an outsider. I cannot help but wonder what the locals must think of foreigners, if the kind they are mostly exposed to are hippies in that are mostly interested in being stoned 24/7.

The village itself had clearly seen better days; heaps of garbage were lying everywhere and the place was in total squalor. As a side not, all the houses, however, had brand new TATA Sky satellite dishes, the wide world of Hindi soap operas and Bollywood was there to civilize the people. Illiteracy is a big problem in the village, health facilities are poor and the only cashcrop currently seems to be drug trade, from which organized crime takes the lion's share. Not a very solid basis for development. The village has now been integrated into the Indian electorate, roads are being built and the big hydro power project of the government of Himachal Pradesh has enabled electricity to the village, but also raised general awareness of the place, for better and for worse. The surrounding hills had been completely sripped down from trees due to construction, and the villagers had been prohibited to cut down anymore, which has made building and repairing of houses very difficult. Time will tell what the Malana people will make of all this hustle and bustle around them. Stories similar to theirs are abundant in India hell bent on modernizig the entire country.

The view from the hotel in Kasol, where we stayed during the trip.

The village of Malana in the background. The welcome sign was hardly set by the locals.

Women had to carry firewood to the village from far.

This man was reading a newspaper on a mountain cliff, the bare hills can be seen in the background.

A local house. It seemed that the men in the village spent their days  sitting on the porches of the houses doing nothing while the women in the village worked.

Piles of garbage were everywhere. With no  waste management, bags of crisps are hard to get rid of. 

The village had a very modest view.

Some of the facial features of the villagers were indeed quite different from the others in the surrounding area.