Seli (सेली), nestled in the picturesque folds of the Almora district, is that type of place, which does not make an attempt at you, it merely greets you. This small village sitting still in the block Bhanoli of Uttarakhand vibrates with the rhythm of the mountain life, slow, steady, human. It is a hamlet of about forty or so houses, and all doors open so well that they must be older than the buildings.
Here mornings come without clocks, and without any disturbance, but murmur through the ouch of the knives and dishes, the roar of the चूल्हा (clay stove), and the fragrance of tea floating through the air with a brisk orientation of the mountains. With the arrival of the first light, the terraced fields are seen, and women go out bringing sheafs of grass in their heads, singing the old pahadi tunes. Some of the children, who have rubbed the sleep out of their eyes, are rushing one after another down the dusty road to school, and their laughter is heard distant and louder than the wind.
One of the cocks calls, one of the cows moos, and in some corner an old man is seated on a wooden चौकी (bench) drinking tea and nodding at everyone who is passing by. This is the way to start a day in Seli - not in a hurry, not making any noise, but the pulse of nature.
Fishing in this way is not only a means of life, it is the soul of the village. The terrains are step-shaped and covered with मंडुवा (finger millet), wheat and pulses. Individuals are using bare hands, which they trust since the same soil sustained their forefathers.
Before noon, it is smelling of food दाल-भात (lentil and rice) boiling in the stove, pickles drying on verandahs. Families sit under the trees to have a meal discussing the weather, the crops or the wedding of a cousin. Children will be running down the slope after a tire and dogs will be sleeping wherever the sun is warmest. It is a rhythmic place, everything in Seli, nothing by the clock, everything by the instinct.
Seli has a different mood with each season.
The turning of these seasons is denoted by festivals. In हरेला (Harela), individuals put saplings and wish that things will be well. During दीपावली (Diwali), the village is full of rows of दीये (lamps) and their light is playing on the dark hills.
One can also take the bus or shared jeep to Almora, which is reachable through Ramnagar and then local taxis drive to the Bhanoli block. The highway is narrowed down to within reach of Seli, and meanders over pine-trees and quiescent villages. The final way is a rocky kind of a stretch, though on reaching it the landscape appears to have opened its gates and the valleys run away endlessly, bordered by ridges sprinkled with the dust of a silver light.
Most likely somebody will say to you when you arrive at last, चाय पियोगे? (Would you like some tea?)”
It is not an etiquette, it is a practice of good will that pahadi hospitality applies.
What Seli is special about is not its volume or its numbers, it is the impression it creates. There is something that does not seem emptiness in the village. It is a silence in a rustle of the leaves, laughter of children, of the daily life that never haste nor slackens.
Then, you stay here a day or two and you can start to feel it the time flows in a different way here. You shall rest in little things: smoke of kitchen, sound of cowbells in the far off, mellow voice of a returning man at twilight.
Seli (सेली) is not a place where you come and go at. The persistence of its silent mornings and golden sunsets is like a song that you never forget even an hour after you have gone.
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...