Day 6: 9th April 2026
The day began with the familiar tug between intention and
reality. Quite relieved that our co-passenger, who had critical and emergency
medical attention on the previous day, was quite healthy and appeared in good
spirits. We had planned to start early after breakfast, but the slow, easy
rhythm of the place and that of our group members conspired to keep us longer
than intended. Still, there was a quiet excitement under the delay, a sense
that the day would reward a leisurely beginning with unexpected moments.
Kalika Devi Mandir
A short drive from the hotel brought us to the temple gate,
where the path was flanked by a forest so lush it felt like a living house of
worship. The air was cool and fragrant, each breath a small benediction. We
compared the scene with what the same stretch might look like back home and
shuddered at the thought of concrete and noise replacing this green hush.
Instead, we filled our lungs with opulent oxygen and offered a silent thanks to
Vana Devi, the Goddess of the Forest.
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The temple itself appeared at the end of the walk, modest
from a distance but regal up close. There was an orderly area to leave footwear
and a place to wash hands and feet, a ritual that felt like stepping into a
different tempo of life. Maa Kali presided in the main sanctum, fierce
and compassionate at once, while smaller shrines clustered around her. Suma,
with her unfailing memory for ritual, arranged the pooja and naivedhya
with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. Families in
holiday spirits filled the courtyard, their laughter and chatter weaving into
the temple’s steady hum.
Golden Gandaki Bridge
By the time we left the temple, it was nearly 10:30. The
Golden Gandaki Bridge rose ahead of us, a suspension ribbon spanning over 500
meters across the Kali Gandaki. Crossing it felt like stepping onto a
human-made nerve stretched across the valley. A gentle wind set the bridge to a
slow sway as we reached the midpoint and looked down at the river threading
silver through the gorge. The bridge’s long, linear perspective reminded me of
a railway track laid across an empty plain, a line that both divides and connects.
We lingered for half an hour, letting the views settle into
memory. On either side, the hills rolled away in layered greens and browns, and
the bridge itself felt like a small triumph of engineering and imagination, a
place where human craft complemented the grandeur of nature.
Saligrama Museum and Parbati Cave
From the bridge, we reached the Saligrama Museum founded by Sri
Sreedhar Acharya. The museum houses thousands of Saligramas, sacred
stones revered as forms of Sri Vishnu. The collection is astonishing in
scale, uniqueness, and variety, and is housed in an underground cave shaped like a
trident, which carries the hush of centuries. It is believed that Adi
Shankaracharya meditated here. The museum complex also includes temples to Mukti
Ram and Balaji and a Vedic School for boys. Unfortunately,
the temple was closed after morning rituals, and we missed darshan, but the
memory of the place stayed with us.
Our next stop, Parbati Cave, felt like stepping into a myth. Administrators greeted us with folded hands, surprised and pleased that we had sought out this lesser-known shrine. We descended into a mini gorge past a temple under construction and then into the cave itself. The cavern is vast, its walls smoothed and sculpted by time into shapes that tease the imagination. Local lore says Maa Parvati performed penance here to win Shiva as her consort, and a small temple inside honors that devotion. Nandini and Vimla performed Bhagina, a ritual offering items associated with married women, while Suma dressed the idol of Maa Parvati in the garment she had prepared, and we all performed the aarti.
Maa Parvati performing Abhisheka to Shiva (before and after dressing up)
Performing Bhagina ritual Ganesha
Temple housing Maa Parvati and Entrance to the Cave
The cave’s inner surface seemed to hold a gallery of natural figurines, each shadow and curve inviting a new story. Our imaginations ran riot at the sight of the cave walls, and we could conjure many shapes of Gods and Goddesses. Very mystic, indeed!
Panchkot Dham
After winding roads and a steady climb, we reached Panchkot
Dham, a complex developed by the Akhanda Jyaotibaba Swami Shriji
Charitable Trust. The site is ambitious, with plans for a 108-foot World
Peace Kalash and a massive Muktinath Mahaghanta bell. We walked up to
the temple where Krishna Gandaki is venerated, and explored the Sheesh
Mahal, a house of mirrors that cradled marble idols of Radha and Krishna.
On another terrace, a dramatic model of Garuda spread his wings, a vision
that would be striking from a distance.
A towering Hanuman statue held the Sanjeevani
Mountain in one hand, and nearby, a brass bell heavier than most of our
imaginations weighed over five and a half tons. The priest shared a local
etymology of Baglung, saying the name comes from the words for tiger and
cave. The place felt both devotional and theatrical, a modern complex built to
inspire awe and reflection.
Night Journey to Ruru Kshetra and Conclusion
Dusk wrapped the hills in a soft, cooling blanket as we set
off for Ruru Kshetra, also known locally as Ridi or Riri.
Light drizzle began as we stopped for a final cup of tea, the road ahead
already rough and longer than expected. Our driver, Rajneesh, reassured us
about fuel and distance, but the road had other plans. We retraced, detoured,
and threaded through dense forest, streams, and mud, the landscape alternately
beautiful and unforgiving.
At one point, our other vehicle, Ertiga, lost traction and sank into soggy ground. Kind villagers came to our aid, and together we hauled it free, a reminder of how travel often depends on the generosity of strangers. Later, a sudden clatter on the Innova’s roof sent a jolt through us. For a terrifying moment, we feared a landslide, but the cause turned out to be a huge snake sliding down the slope.
The night grew deeper, the road more treacherous, and
by midnight, we faced boulders and a blocked path. Workmen in tents told us of a
bridge that might lead to our destination, but warned that darkness made further
travel unsafe.
Heeding their advice, we accepted the only available shelter in Shaligram Village. The hotel was humble but warm, and exhaustion made sleep come quickly. Lying in bed, I thought of the day’s contrasts: the calm of temple courtyards, the exhilaration of the hanging bridge, the hush of caves, and the raw unpredictability of mountain roads. We were grateful for a roof over our heads and for the small kindnesses that had carried us this far. Tomorrow promised a fresh start and, with it, more stories waiting to be found.
Day 6 was a rollercoaster of awe and peril – temples and
caves steeped in legend, bridges swinging above rivers, roads collapsing under
rain, and even snakes masquerading as landslides. It was a pilgrimage as an adventure, testing endurance and faith alike.
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