Gaind Village, Pauri Garhwal
Pauri Garhwal,
Uttarakhand
Introduction – When the Village Comes Back to Me
Gaind village in Jakhanikhal tehsil of
Pauri Garhwal district comes back to me quietly, like a breath I didn’t recognize I changed into retaining. Terraced fields step down the hills, forests lean near without urgency, and small streams slip over stones with tender murmurs. The morning breeze carried birds, cattle bells, and distant voices. Missing Gaind feels like a calm warmth that sits gently in my chest.
How I Reach the Village without Thinking Too Much
I usually reached Gaind through
Kotdwar railway station, around 90–95 kilometers away, and then followed the winding hill road upward. The nearest bus drops you on the main road, after which locals manage shared jeeps or simple lifts. Curved roads kept folding into each other, pine smell thick in the air, sunlight landing briefly on bends. By the time I arrived, my thoughts had already slowed.
Daily Life I Watched Slowly Unfold
Life in Gaind moved without hurry. Terraced fields carried wheat, mandua, paddy, pulses, vegetables, and a few fruit trees tucked near homes. Farming stayed traditional and mostly organic, guided by seasons, soil, and memory. Cattle rearing blended clearly into the day—milking early, grazing through daytime, and fodder collection at night.
One morning, I watched an old man sprucing his sickle near a stone wall, sparks catching softly in daylight. Nearby, a girl winnowed grain, lifting it into the breeze and letting the lighter husks flow away. Fodder bundles leaned against slate partitions, and dairy cans rested quietly in the coloration. These small moments lingered longer than full conversations.
Festivals and Quiet Traditions That Stay With Me
Festivals in Gaind never arrived loudly.
Harela brought fresh green shoots and calm smiles, Ghughutiya carried children’s laughter through courtyards, and
Makar Sankranti softened cold mornings. Stories of
Nanda Devi Jaat surfaced during evening gatherings, shared slowly among elders. Folk songs, rituals, and respect for elders held the community together naturally.
Small Things That Made the Village Feel Alive
Small temples and old shrines appeared along footpaths and near fields, some barely marked, some worn smooth by touch. I often paused there without planning to, standing quietly for a moment. Bells rang only when someone truly felt like ringing one.
Natural springs dotted Gaind’s edges. The water was cold enough to numb fingers and clear enough to drink instantly. Forest trails moved gently through oak and pine, sometimes opening into hidden viewpoints no one spoke about. The hills revealed themselves only if I stayed still.
Food in Gaind tasted grounded and honest. Mandua roti, seasonal vegetables, pulses, fresh milk, and herbs gathered from nearby slopes filled daily meals. I watched wool being spun in courtyards and small wooden tools shaped slowly by hand. The smell of oak wood smoke settled into the evenings.
Slate-roof homes stood near together, linked by narrow stone pathways worn smooth by the footsteps of a long time of footsteps. Walking there at nightfall, I felt the cool stone under my toes. Doors closed lightly, voices softened, and the village seemed to settle itself.
A Slow Goodbye I Still Carry
Gaind stays with me because it never hurried me. The slow mountain life, the silence between sounds, and the comfort of simplicity eased something inside me. Nature felt close and steady. When I left, I didn’t mark the moment—just carried a quiet goodbye that still walks beside me.
