I found myself back in Bhimtal with a group of Badgers from the University of Wisconsin. One of the site visits that was on the agenda was a walk in the local village on Jone’s estate- sometimes now referred to as June’s estate.
As we were stopped at the house of one of the oldest families of the village, one student asked “What is your favorite myth or legend from this area?” The old man we were talking to smiled and answered right away- the story Nal Damayanti Tal (Nal Damayanti Lake).
The story goes that King Nal and Queen Damayanti lived in a palace where the lake is currently. King Nal would go out and fish at one of the local lakes and bring back fish for Queen Damayanti to prepare for meals. As she was making fish with the red chili and the orange turmeric spices, she heard a voice calling out to her saying “May I come in? May I come in?, or मैं औं? (Mai Auo?) in Hindi”. There was no one around. Disturbed by this voice, Damayanti told her husband about what had happened. King Nal told her that he would prepare the fish next time.
As he was sitting there, cutting and preparing the fish with chili and turmeric, he heard the voice: “May I come in?”. He answered the voice with “Yes. Come in”. At that moment a horrible monster came into the palace. It placed its hands over the fish and it became whole and alive again.
The palace was never seen again that day and some think it is buried under the lake.
To this day, the fish that live in the lake are said to be only two colors: Red like the chilies and orange like the turmeric. The man telling us the story said that the disfigured fish that Nal cut up is still in the lake today. Some say that the fish that live in the lake have been there for hundreds of years and will never die. Fishing of course in not allowed in the lake.
This lake is also seen as sacred to some. A local baba/holy man supposedly had a vision meditating next to the lake that there was something important buried underneath. Some people went to dig where the baba said and found statues of Hindu gods in the lake. They were placed in the temple next to the lake. Digging has also been banned from the lake.
After hearing this story, I had to see it for myself. Where I was staying, I was told by Paddy, the woman that owns and runs The Retreat Guesthouse , that the lake was only a half hour walk away through lovely fields, forests, and the village. She showed me her map she hand drew and I was off- along with my trusty new camera.
I walked through the forest path behind the estate that I have become very familiar with. The sounds of chirping birds and buzzing bugs provided me with the great ambient sound to my small adventure. I stopped to take a few photos of birds, dragonflies, and butterflies along the way.
Walking through the village, I happened upon Uma’s chai shop. I explained to her I was off to the lake. She further helped point out my path and assured me it was an easy walk. She offered me some chai which I reluctantly refused. I went out when it was starting to get hot in the Bhimtal summer and wanted to get back in time for lunch.
My path veered off to the village path where it was hills on my left and fields on my left. As I walked down a steep footpath, I noticed a flowing from the top of the hills across my path. In front of me was a tiny little shack where the water flows through. Paddy told me earlier that this was the water powered mill that sometimes is open when it is running. Unfortunately, it was closed in the time I went past it.
I walked a bit further, not sure if I was going the right away until I found the temple next to the lake. The small complex had about three different temples housed inside. Not feeling very spiritual, I walked on to find the lake. Expecting to find the same natural beauty as Sattal and Pannatal that I had explored earlier, I was a bit disappointed to see the state of the lake.
The lake had seen better days.
The lake had been covered in concrete. Moss and scum clung to the corners of the lake, a few chip wrappers and drink bottled floated next to the sides, and the water level looked dangerously low for the resident fish.
And boy were there a lot of fish! With the ban on fishing the population looked like it had exploded. I squinted hard at the fish to see any color or disfiguration. I was let down to see that they looked no more special than the carp I used to throw back in the water during my childhood on Auburn lake in Wisconsin.
I was the only one at the lake who had come on foot. To my surprise there was a motor road that led straight to the lake. Families wanting a glimpse at the mythical lake and temple gathered with cameras for pictures and bags of bread to feed the fish. Little girls dressed in bright colored frocks squealed when the hordes of fish splashed at each piece of bread thrown their way.
I made my way around the tiny lake, taking as many pictures of the fish as I could along the way, before slowly making my way back to the Retreat for a lovely lunch comprising of mutton curry and okra.
While the lake may not have been as impressive as I had hoped, it was a lovely way to spend an early afternoon in Bhimtal. The myth was more fun to hear, but the views along the way were beautiful to see.
