Hidden in a number of the rolling hills of Almora, Mantola Gunth isn’t a call most human beings understand and that’s precisely what makes it unique. It’s one of these tiny Himalayan villages wherein mornings begin with the sound of cow bells, and evenings end with mist wrapping the pine timber. Life here acts slowly, quietly, and superbly.
Mantola Gunth sits underneath the Dhaula Devi block of Almora district. Reaching right here, a mix of winding roads, deep valleys, and the smell of pine in the air. The pressure itself looks like a small journey back in time no noise, no chaos, just old houses standing totally firm in opposition to the hills. The village isn’t huge. Around 26 families stay here, with more or less a hundred and forty human being, aerall. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in warmth.
Life in Mantola Gunth runs on connection not Wi-Fi, however real human connection. People right here nonetheless recognize each face in the village, nevertheless ask “खाना खाया?” (Have you eaten?) once they meet. Fields of wheat and mandua (neighborhood millet) stretch throughout the slopes, and girls regularly walk collectively wearing baskets of grass or firewood, chatting softly as they go.
The sex ratio right here genuinely leans closer to girls 1,258 girls for each 1,000 males. It’s a quiet signal of balance in a global world that frequently tilts the alternative way.
Children run freely through the paths, most of them studying in nearby schools. Literacy here is around 79%, with men leading slightly higher, but women catching up fast. It shows how education, even in remote corners, is becoming part of daily life.
Mantola Gunth covers around 39 hectares most of it open land, farms, and forest patches. In summer, the hills turn golden with ripened grains, and in winter, they wear a soft chill that makes even smoke from a kitchen chimney look poetic. The air smells different here clean, sharp, and full of pine.
There’s no market inside the village. For daily needs, people travel to nearby towns like Bhanoli or Almora. Roads are narrow but scenic, often lined with rhododendron trees that bloom bright red in March. If you ever visit, carry patience. The pace here isn’t city fast it’s mountain slow, and that’s part of its charm.
Most villagers depend on farming or small daily jobs. About 54 people are working, and many are marginal workers, meaning they work for a few months a year depending on the season. It’s a lifestyle tied to the rhythm of nature plant, wait, harvest, rest.
But behind this simple rhythm lies resilience. When the monsoon hits, the narrow trails get slippery, and yet you’ll see locals walking miles carrying sacks of grain or bundles of grass. They smile through the struggle. That’s pahadi (mountain) spirit quiet strength mixed with a lot of heart.
Villages like Mantola Gunth remind us what real India looks like beyond cities and social media. They show how community still holds people together when there’s no luxury, no rush. It’s where “namaste” still means more than a greeting it’s a gesture of respect, of warmth.
With time, the younger generation might move out for education or work, but their roots their “मूल” stay here. The old stone houses, the terraces, the mountain gods all hold stories that deserve to be told.
Mantola Gunth may be small, but it’s a living example of Uttarakhand’s quiet grace where the land teaches patience, and people live in tune with the hills.
Uttarakhand is not simply another country. People here name it Devbhoomi (देवभूमि), the Land of the Gods. And it feels that way. Rivers begin right here. Old temples sit on mountain tops. Morning dayl...