Title: The Forest of Snow
Author: Swami Ramananda Bharati
Translated from Bengali by Somdatta Mandal
Publisher: Speaking Tiger Books
There is a shelter called ‘Hoti’ almost half a mile above from here. This place was exactly below Hoti Pass. We stayed at Kalajabar, but several of our companions went and put up at Hoti. It was also called ‘Chor Hoti’ and was 15,000 feet above the sea level.
Today is the 13th of Asharh and we will have to cross Hoti Pass today. This pass was the confluence of life and death. The road was inaccessible and covered with snow. The highest peak in this pass was 18,300 feet above the sea level. The locals call these high peaks ‘katha’. If wind arose while crossing this katha, it would blow away any rider. If there was a cloud, the rider would be buried in the snow and there would be no sign of the carrier, the ox or the goats. Again, excessive cold would also give rise to tribulation. If the humans or the animals stumbled and fell, there would be no trace of their bodies. This was the condition of the road and if one didn’t walk for nine miles today, there wouldn’t be any place to take a rest. So, everyone woke up at 4 a.m. to start the journey. Our leader Kedar Singh shouted and woke everyone up, ‘Get up, today we will have to cross the katha.’
Everyone got up from their beds and came outside. After finishing the morning rituals, they started preparing for the journey. The jhabbu was prepared for me to climb on. My servants came and told me, ‘Today you will have to wear pajamas and laam.’
In Tibetan, shoes were known as ‘laam’. They were made of fur and looked somewhat like hunting boots. It served both the purpose of shoes and socks. I wore the laam and pajamas and didn’t forget to wear the other woolen clothes… I covered my head and ears with a warm cap. After that I tied the turban very strongly on top of it. In this manner, I wore a strange attire and climbed on the jhabbu’s back. My servant handed me some pepper and palm candy and said, ‘If you feel cold, put these in your mouth.’ I said, ‘Thank you’, and accepted them.
On other days everyone was in a jovial mood when they commenced their journey, and they walked with enthusiasm. Today however, everyone’s face was dry, and their movement wasn’t encouraging at all. In this way all of us started travelling in a single file. The bridle of my jhabbu was in Kharga Singh’s hands, who moved ahead of me. Vishnu Singh moved behind us, beating the jhabbu to keep it in motion. After that, several jhabbus, five or six yaks and four or five horses followed us. Each of these animals had a carrier upon its back. Again, behind them many people followed in a serial manner. Kedar Singh and five or six others moved very slowly ahead of me. This road was so narrow that two people or two animals couldn’t move side by side. No one spoke a word; everyone was cautious about his movement. The sun rose; the wonderful Himalayan scenery was in front of us; but who would watch it? Everyone was too occupied in seeing where they were stepping and chanting holy prayers in their mind.
I was quite all right all this while, but now my hands and feet felt like freezing and my breathing turned very slow. I couldn’t sit any further on the jhabbu’s back, but there wasn’t any other way. There was no place to alight from the jhabbu’s back, when suddenly, the bull stopped its movement. Finding no other option, my servants pulled me down from the animal’s back; I stood there perplexed. What I saw in front of me was awful. The path in front had subsided with snowfall. Seeing that my carrier had stopped in his tracks. After getting rid of my weight, it started climbing the mountain straight up. The other carriers also followed suit. The travellers also moved in that direction.
I could not move and I kept standing there like a zombie. My servants pulled both my arms and said, ‘What are you trying to do? Come on, this place is not suitable for taking a rest. It will be dangerous as the day advances; if clouds assemble or there is a strong wind, none of us will survive.’ They pulled both my arms and ushered me upwards. Just as an antelope climbs up a tree with its front paws, I too kept on walking with the help of my two assistants and managed to climb the mountain. After walking in this manner for about an hour, we came to a comparatively better path. Now, I was able to walk without support from others. After walking for some time, I looked in front and saw a mountain peak and plenty of fog below. We would have to cross this snowy stretch and reach the top of the peak. It would not only be very difficult but dangerous too.
We continued walking in a queue, one person following the other. No one was sitting upon their animals’ backs anymore. The animals were also following us. After walking for a while, we came close to the snow. There was no sign of any path here; all the land had disappeared under blankets of snow and moreover, the place was very slippery. From here we would have to walk in this snow for about a mile until we found signs of the pathway once again.
Kedar Singh said, ‘The jhabbus and the yaks will go before us, and we will follow them. The goats and sheep will come behind us because the jhabbus and the yaks know the way. They would be able to select the safe route. Also, we will step on the footprints left by the jhabbus and the yaks and cross this dangerous place safely.’
That was exactly how things took place. By following the jhabbus and their footprints, we crossed the snow safely and came to the path. Now it wasn’t so fearful anymore. We spoke to each other comfortably and arrived at the top of the mountain at around 11 a.m. This place was 18,300 feet above the sea level. Smiles returned upon everyone’s faces. Overwhelmed with joy, they cheered to their individual gods and said, ‘There is no more fear. We have crossed the katha.’
The natural beauty of this place was unimaginable even by a poet. The high snow-white Himalayan peaks stood like pillars on all four sides; the blue sky spread like a canopy on top of it, as if it had been decorated to offer shelter to the fatigued travellers. One could imagine the wide stones to be seats in the middle of the pavilion; from a distance the pleasant and soothing sound of the mountain river seemed to be asking about the whereabouts of the fatigued travellers, and different species of mountain birds were welcoming them with their very sweet voice. I was a fatigued traveller. I couldn’t resist the warm welcome of nature and therefore sat down there. My companions also sat there to take a rest. Now the cold had been reduced with the heat of the sunrays and there wasn’t any trace of clouds in the sky. With the rays of the sun, the mountains all around seemed golden, and the clear blue sky seemed to be opening up its breast and embracing the huge, snowy mountain peaks.
Seeing this eternal scenery of the Himalayas, I lost myself. I wanted to stay here forever but my companions were impatient. One of them pulled my hand and lifted me. ‘You cannot sit here any longer. This mountain has no wood, grass, or water. We won’t get firewood unless we walk another four miles ahead, and so even tea cannot be prepared. We will die if we don’t drink tea or have food. Come on, now we must move downhill, and today’s descent is even more difficult than the ascent.’
I got up. They walked in front of me, and I kept on following them.
After we had travelled for a while, I realised why the descent was more difficult than the ascent. It was as if I had to climb down from the sky to the underworld. The yaks, horses, sheep, and goats had already gone far ahead. Many of the travellers had also gone before us, and they looked like a row of ants. I started descending very slowly. There was a dangerous path in between and it was only discernible because of the footprints of the men and animals. The unfathomable mountains were in the south and on the left were the uneven mountains covered with snow. This place was so sloping and slippery that one couldn’t walk without the help of others. I held a long staff in my left hand which I planted in the snow and walked slowly with its support.
After going a little further, I found my feet sinking in the snow; it was like the difficulty we faced when our feet would get stuck while trying to walk in the mud in our desh, our homeland. Walking in the snow had turned my feet numb and I couldn’t lift them up. At such a moment I saw a horse slip on its feet and slide down below. Its breeder was also going with it and within a second both disappeared! After that I didn’t get any news of them. Witnessing this scene created a great fear in my mind. I thought I would lose my life here today itself. Even then I didn’t lose the hope of life and kept on walking slowly. Just then I stumbled and fell but one of my fellow travellers immediately pulled me up by holding my hands. My carrier had also tumbled, but it too was saved on this occasion.
All of us crossed that snowy region and arrived at a safe place approximately around noon. Now the hope of living returned once again. But hunger and thirst had made us so exhausted that there wasn’t the strength to take even another step. There was plenty of water in front of us, but it was so cold that it was impossible to drink it. This mountain didn’t have any sign of firewood so we couldn’t prepare tea and quench our thirst. Firewood wouldn’t be available unless we went further for two more miles. I was forced to climb up on the back of the jhabbu. Every Hindu would understand how difficult and heart-wrenching it was for him to get up on a cow’s back. But according to the saying, ‘Follow the rules applicable in each country,’ I abided by the words of the Shastras and climbed on the animal’s back.
I went for one mile in this manner. There were so many ascents and descents within this one mile, and it was followed by a steep descent that forced me to climb down from the animal’s back once again. Excessive strain, hunger and thirst exhausted me so much that I couldn’t move my feet. But the hard heart didn’t ever blow out. So, with a lot of difficulty, I kept on walking just to keep myself alive.
After going a little further, I found a few traders sitting by the roadside. I went and sat near them. Among them an old man very politely gave me a mat to sit on and immediately offered some warm tea to drink. Later he also gave me barley flour and molasses to eat. After eating and drinking, I regained my strength. After resting for a while and talking to them, I found out that they were also travelling to Tibet. They had come here the day before. They would rest here today and would go to Dwapa via Hoti tomorrow early morning. We would stop at Jhonghing, half a mile away from here. My companions had already proceeded towards that place. One of my servants had also gone forward with my belongings; the other one was with me. I took his help and after a lot of effort reached Jhonghing at around 2 p.m.
We would stay there that day. Our camp was inside a small cave. There was a river about a mile from this cave. Sufficient grass and firewood were available on both its banks. My servant had prepared food and tea for me even before I reached my den and had also let free the animals which were carrying our load to graze. I arrived at my den, had my meal and laid down. I didn’t have the strength to rise. About eight or ten tents were pitched and they contained about a hundred people. Also, there were many people outside the tents. These people had more than two hundred goats and sheep to carry their luggage and a few yaks, jhabbus, and horses.
About the Book:
In 1898, the wandering saint Swami Ramananda Bharati set out from the Garhwal Himalayas towards one of the most remote and revered destinations in the world: Mount Kailash and Manas Sarovar in Tibet. Travelling through perilous mountain passes, glacial valleys and isolated border villages, Bharati journeyed not merely as a pilgrim in search of divine grace, but as an observant traveller deeply attentive to the people, landscapes and contradictions of the Himalayan world.
The Forest of Snow chronicles this extraordinary expedition across the high Himalayas—through Joshimath, Niti, Hoti Pass and beyond—capturing the majesty of snowbound peaks, roaring rivers and sacred shrines, alongside the hardships of life at the edge of empire.
Bharati writes vividly of Bhutia traders preparing for their annual caravans into Tibet, highland communities who migrate with the changing seasons, weather-beaten caves sheltering pilgrims, mountain food that consists only of tea, butter and barley flour, and the tense borderlands shaped by colonial surveillance and Tibetan restrictions. Along the way he encounters an unforgettable cast of companions and strangers: clever interpreters, eccentric lamas, drunken villagers, Tibetans suspicious of English spies, and even dacoits.
Blending spiritual reflection with sharp ethnographic observation, Bharati’s narrative moves beyond conventional pilgrimage writing to offer one of the earliest modern Bengali accounts of travel into Tibet. First serialised in 1901 as Himaranya, and later recovered from incomplete manuscripts, The Forest of Snow stands today as a rare and compelling record of Himalayan travel at the turn of the twentieth century.
About the Author:
Ramananda Bharati (1836–1901) was a Bengali scholar, reformer, ascetic, and travel writer who moved between orthodox Hinduism, Brahmo reformism, and monastic spirituality. Trained in Sanskrit and honoured with the title ‘Vidyaratna’, he taught at Calcutta’s Wesleyan Mission School, where his engagement with Christian missionaries led him towards monotheism and the Brahmo Samaj. Following the deaths of his wife and son, heartbroken, he entered the Dasnami monastic order and became a paribrajak sadhu (traveller-saint), visiting pilgrimage sites across India and even to Tibet.
About the Translator:
Somdatta Mandal is Former Professor of English and Chairperson at the Department of English & Other Modern European Languages, Visva-Bharati, Santiniketan. Somdatta has a keen interest in translation and travel writing.
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