Wind in my hair, songs in the background, window seat. Sounds like a movie scene, isn’t it? That’s how my recent trip to Dagshai museum began– feeling like a main character. Let’s rewind a bit. It was Sunday, the 18th of May. Tired of my habit of spending Sundays bedrotting and doing other chores/tasks, I thought of doing something adventurous.
Initially, I asked Shruti (my host and mentor at EarthJust) if she wanted to join me but she was busy with some work. So, after overthinking and multiple reconsiderations, I decided to go alone. Contemplating every minute if I am doing the ‘right’ thing by going alone, I got ready. With no clue about how to reach there, which bus to take, I called my colleague Manisha. On her advice I took the first local bus that I could spot. What a fortunate day it was! I secured a window seat. Earphones plugged in, ‘Ek Ladki ko Dekha toh Aisa laga’ playing and my hair flowing with the wind. Oh, I felt like a Bollywood actress being followed by her lover. Where time has stood still. And he looks at her like nothing is more beautiful in this universe.
Kumar Hatti
It took me twenty minutes to reach Kumar Hatti, which is at the foothill of Dagshai. Now, I had three options. I could take a local taxi uphill, or hitchhike or just walk through the woods. Well, as I was on a budget trip, I decided to walk. Another twenty minutes of walk. “I can do this like a pro,” I thought to myself. I took the first 10 steps and started regretting my decision. Gasping for breath like a dog on a summer afternoon, I kept walking. The sun was strong and my energy was draining. So, I took a few breaks on the way.
Dogs & Monkeys
It was serene. I could hear a few birds chirp with a ‘whooshing’ sound of the cars passing in the background. Not a single human in sight, it was a privilege to soak in all the mountain air for myself. Just when I thought, I was completely safe here, it happened. Yes, some two-legged living beings (who seemed to have a notorious reputation) were sitting there. Waiting to tease me, snatch me- they kept staring at me. If you haven’t already guessed it, some top tier monkeying was going on. Scared by the gang, I thought of returning. But then I remembered a wise advice by my mentor Abhishek, “don’t look them in the eye”. Like a warrior, I picked up a wooden stick, ready to sword them if needed. I guarded my treasure – my bag, like a knight.
Poor babies were scared themselves. So, they left as soon as I took a step ahead. And I somehow managed to dodge a snack-attack. Listening to songs, panting, admiring the beauty of valley, I reached Peer Baba Dargah. As I sat there, with the cool breeze on my sweaty face, I gazed around. My eyes stopped at two cuties sleeping near the dargah. Eager to pet, I started whistling to call them. Without any hesitation, the puppy and its mother ran towards me. After giving a few belly rubs, I resumed my journey upwards. They followed me up to a certain point like loyal guards.
Dagshai Museum
After a leg shaking walk, I finally made it to the Dagshai and Jail Museum. A small room outside the jail, had all the walls filled with the history of it. I spent a few minutes there reading it. ‘Daag-e-shahi’ is an Urdu word which means ‘royal stain’ or ‘royal mark’. It connotes a black mark on the foreheads of the prisoners branded by the Imperial Orders in the Mughal times. That’s how Dagshai, got its name.
The museum hall shared the wall with the jail. I entered the jail from a doorway with ‘Old Jail’ written on it and bell at the top. Walking past the arched hallway, I saw a few trees on either side of it.
As I entered the jail, something suddenly changed. The vibe turned from pleasant to eerie. Pale blue walls, around thirty cells with barred doors and a wooden flooring. With every step, the silence felt more haunting. Scared to even peek inside a cell, I gathered courage and opened a door. The cell was around 7 metre square. With no toilet and only one rectangular opening for ventilation, it seemed like an overpriced Parisienne apartment. Only the cost to be paid here was much higher and evil.
Gandhi & Godse
I then, came across a ‘Common Cell’ where Nathuram Godse, was kept for a night while transiting him to Shimla.
After spending some time in the ‘Common Cell’ hall, I went to the ‘Solitary Confinement’ cells. Only 16 of those cells existed, for extremely undisciplined prisoners. The punishment was harsher for those who were kept here. No access to ventilation and natural light made it even worse. The ‘Solitary Confinement’ cells were designed such that a ray of light also seemed difficult to pass through the doors. The museum authority had put up bulbs in a few cells. While others were so dark that bats took shelter there. I could only imagine the cries of the inmates and the looming loneliness.
At the end of the hall, I came across Mahatma Gandhi’s cell. Gandhi was a friend of the Irish Leader Eamon de Velera and inspired by the Irish independence movement. Hence, when Irish soldiers were arrested, he paid a special visit to the jail. Upon his request, the authority designated a special solitary confinement cell for him. While Gandhi was not a prisoner there, the irony of him and Godse having shared the same jail surprised me.
Even in its silence, Dagshai whispers. I exited the jail, and the sudden shift back to colours, light and wind felt like a relief. The inside and outside of the jail seemed distinct. This stark difference inspired me to write a poem.
What an irony lies within the two worlds
One’s all flourishing while the other– grim it holds
One has chirps of birds and rustling leaves
While the other eerie and mysterious, hard to believe
Where silence and gore exist together
From Gandhi to Godse spares neither
The place of darkened cell and silenced cry
Where forehead of inmate is marked with Daag-e-shahi
The Cafe
Tired, exhausted by the heat and lost in my thoughts, I went to a small café right outside the museum. An uncle, in his early 70s, with a turban on his head stood behind the counter. I asked him if I could get a cup of tea and some chips. He asked me to sit right outside the café as he went on making tea. Savouring the chips, I was enjoying the view and the stillness. But I had sensed it coming. They were back. The snackers had seen me eating. Without a second thought, I gave in. I left the bag of chips for them.
Uncle saw me struggling with the monkeys. So, he offered me to sit inside. It was a small, squared room with three counters squeezed in. Barely leaving any space to move around. But there was one chair kept facing the kitchen counter. At this point, I couldn’t say no to his offer. I went in and sat on the chair. The chai was ready. While I sipped on the hot chai, he shooed away the monkeys. He came back in as if nothing had happened. It seemed like a normal chore to him.
Monkey Business
Our conversation began with him telling me about the havoc monkeys create every now and then. I giggled, “I gave away the chips to them”. He smiled at my naivety and went on preparing the next order. A resident of Dagshai, his family had lived there for generations. His parents had witnessed the painful fate of Dagshai. The lines on his forehead and his grey beard spoke the history of Dagshai.
Curious about my whereabouts, he asked where I came from, what I did for a living, etc. His face suddenly lit up as I told him that my hometown is Indore. He told me about his sister who lives there and how he has been there a couple of times. He then went on asking me if I had come alone. As soon as I nodded my head, he reassured me on the safety in Himachal.
The Prodigal Returns
After a heartfelt conversation, I thanked him for his kind gesture. His generosity moved me as I left for Kumar Hatti. But I was prepared this time. With a wooden stick in my hand, I started walking down the hill. This time, the path didn’t feel much empty as locals walked past me. The monkey gang was somehow back as if they were following me all this time. But I escaped slyly.
Soon I reached the busy street of Kumar Hatti and waited for the bus to arrive. Within a few minutes, I was back to feeling like a main character. Earphones plugged in, song playing in the background and wind in my hair. But this time I felt like a Bollywood lead who had just accomplished something long pending. Traveling alone while having spent less than 200 rupees. There was something so liberating about it.
I came back home just to realise that it was International Museum Day. What a beautiful coincidence! I was excited. Tired feet, a warm heart and a mind full of memories – Dagshai was a one of a kind experience!
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