Community immunity in a Himalayan village

Thirteen years ago, as I cycled through the narrow lanes of Burwa gaon (village), nestled in the Himalayas and surrounded by apple-laden trees, little did I know that I would witness its transformation in just a few years.

- Veenat Arora

Those lanes now comfortably accommodate bulky SUVs. I don’t particularly cherish it, but as they say change is the only constant; so I swallowed it like a bitter pill.

My first visit to this splendid place was unplanned. During a cycling camp in Manali, I crossed the village and incidentally met a ski champion who represented India internationally. Over time, our bond deepened, and my visits became frequent. I fondly remember sitting on the terrace of her home, chatting with her parents and gazing at their extended family (a cow and her calf) across the road in a straw-laden shack. Sparrows would flutter around, pecking at the sun-drying apricots and apples. Basking in the gentle sunlight, with a soft mountain breeze caressing my cheeks and the snow-capped mountains and perfect treeline in the background, I felt as though I were the part of a beautiful painting.