In a valley in the Himalayas, where marijuana grows as a wild plant, the wife of Shiva, the goddess Parvati, sowed the seeds of the best grass to her divine husband was not going to look at other valleys. There, the growing conditions are perfect for thousands of years. The altitude, about ten thousand feet, and extreme temperatures, fortify the plant. No smoke of these plants. They are too resinous. Once I tried. Let dry a heart for days and still did not burn well. They extracted from the buds an incomparable hashish, perfection cannabinoid, a sacred substance, with an ancient technique that for some good karma, as they say here, I had the fortune to meet.
monsoon rains were over. All the water in the world seemed to have fallen over the region to clean the streets and irrigate the fields. The sun did its work, dried fruits of plants. The season for charas, began.
After a two day, three buses and more than two hours of walking (I'm lucky, because a decade ago the walk only took about two days) I get to the nearest town to the plantations. I stayed a few nights there, gathering data that would lead me safely to them. Since 1984, under pressure Western (mainly American) is the charas illegal, but like everything in India, the opposites coexist. It is illegal and sacred time. The police burned the plantations to control trade and holy men (the babas ) smoke it with prayers in temples.
In this village, whose name I mention, I started in the art. After making a few grams of not very good quality, I decided to go to the plantations. Collecting them is a craft and not a developer. No drug cartel, no Label, no large-scale traffic, only families who collect the charas as if it were any other crop, and the occasional traveler who spends time in the mountains, making its own reserves. Among families
Nepali (cheap labor) and with the permission of the owner of the plantation (whose only requirement was to fabricate good quality charas), work for four days. The sun, so close, makes the plants transpire and allows that after rubbing, the oil adhering to the hands, a brown patina, almost black.
Sitting in a circle under the sun, wait for a man who cut the plants and leave them in front of us. Sitting on the ground, surrounded by marijuana, quietly, stroking the plant, gently. I took a stick and bag the leaves and the leaves are covering me. The leaves do not work, then the waiting heart, I cherish in my palms for a moment, then I remove the remains of leaves left on them. I must be very careful with your palms, if I lean on the ground, the earth is mixed with resin and becomes useless. During all the hours I'm in the sun, closing the circle of Nepali family, I've done and I smile, always smiling, I can not eat, drink water, or drink with your hands, only the buds, and much care sheets, which stick to the resin and then the smoke it produces headache. Slowly remove all the leaves of the plants, palms, this is the slowest part. Rub the heart takes only a few seconds. Then I ask them to show the palms. They are taught and approved with their smiles. I'm doing well. Again and again the same procedure. The day progresses and we become a sundial, sitting in a circle, with thirst and heat, stripping, scrubbing, manufacturing meditation, a mantra is pronounced with hands folded on the grass, like praying for the blood of the plant. Dizzy warm farewell to the sun, it is time to take off the black sap of palms. I press the tip of the thumb against the palm of your other hand. With power down and move the finger. The piece of sap that had stuck in the back now in the bud, leaving the white skin, with no hint of sap. Push and remove. The charas are so attached to the palm skin cracks open, crack, as if it will not tolerate separation from the sacred element.
barking plant, without leaves, rub the buds and remove the resin is a hand . You can make three to five hands in one day, and each hand can contain between 1 and 6 grams. The larger the quantity produced, the lower its quality. The smaller they are the remains of leaves, pure, clean and good will charas. To make cream , that is the best charas possible, you can not make more than five grams a day. Make 5 to 10 grams per day corresponds to the second cream. The classic charas, which is also good, can take 10 to 20 grams per day. Al
third day my hands were burned. For many crevices overlooked by the blood. The Nepalese laugh. I did see the charas and tell me walaha atcha, good thing.
Until recently the way in which the resin molding permitted to recognize its origin. Small tortillas ( chapatis ) Parvati Valley, or the famous Manali fingers were some presentations that have lost exclusivity now local.
do not intend to draw conclusions, but there must be differences between a culture that makes its caressing hashish plants, with another that produces lashed against a grid. In Morocco, to make the hash, hit the floor against a mesh. The dust that falls the THC crystals, pollen , compress it to form the brown stones that have no role in the life of a Muslim than a sinful fun and lucrative business with the Europeans. In India, however, recite a mantra every time they go to smoke, is a sacred ritual: Sat sabko Bolenat Bom (sit down together and turned on (the pipe) by God). Recall well, this stage of Shiva, the God of Destruction, in which he sought demotivated the world, losing the worldly ambitions, to appreciate more fully the intensity of this. Once you reach that stage the grass was no longer necessary. The dance of realization, the moment that symbolizes Shiva gets control his desire, when you control your anger, when due to his ego. From that time marijuana is reserved for special occasions. On the night of Shiva, to worship the God that today more popular, Hindus eat bhang (a paste made from whole plant marijuana can be bought at government offices). That night, many are drunk with bhang, but drunkenness is a quiet, reflective, full of silence, contemplation, hypnotic music (alcohol, a substance that unleashes the passion, uncontrolled, it is socially reviled). Thousands and thousands of people walk through the narrow streets that lead from a sacred temple to the other. Jotilingam want to see (a representation phallus of Shiva), want to caress, rub, pour milk, water, flowers, incense, necklaces, want to know they have the strength to tolerate the suffering that occurs in their lives desire, passion, anger, hatred.
Although that night, any night, you can buy bhang in government stores, marijuana is illegal. So were the police while returning from the plantations with ten grams of high quality made by me, and I bought a little about children. The principles against child labor went up in smoke in the event to prove what they were children, we all knew it was something special. His sweaty hands, skin smooth out the best plants. Charas had been done, and seemed to have fun, enjoy sharing the time with the family, made them feel that they were cooperating with the rest. They were more restless, and did not work all the time sitting, but walking among the plants and does not start, they took away the leaves to the level they reached, the rubbing and then another that they thought looked better. It was a little competition that kept between them. They knew if they were rushing over the account would char them bad, they had to control his anxiety. I offered her charas balls at ludicrous prices. I paid twice what they asked, to bribe my conscience.
The tola is the unit of measure in which selling charas and should correspond to 11.2 grams, but actually amounts to 10 grams. Wearing little more than two tolas me enough to have a hard time with the police. I knew there would be in jail for that. Although there were a number of Westerners in Indian jails for possession of charas, leading up not lead me to one of them, but it could complicate and force me to give more money than he was willing to pay a bribe. The police are a bonus with the money of travelers who go with charas.
retraced the path he had taken to get to the plantations. A small path through mountains streams, rivers, surrounded by green monsoon moisture lost past. I suddenly feel the smell of marijuana and my first thought is that someone smoking a little later. The smell is becoming more intense and it does not appear smoker advance. When I am covered by a cloud of marijuana start to worry. Look in all directions and saw that the other side of the river, on a hillside, several police force a farmer to burn his plantation. The wind brings the cloud to me. Police across the street, at a distance of course, but enough to guess the reasons for my ride, and the cloud that follows me and the police also "follow me? the charas in the pocket begins to squeeze chest, or is the cloud, or is the paranoia that surrounds me as I walk along the trail of marijuana illegal in the air. Not without fear, believing that I am on mountains full of snakes, police and hazardous holy men, made his way by night to my hostel.
When the sun goes down and can no longer produce charas. The plants are cooled, the resin does not stick to hands. Travelers, babas, Indians enjoy the company of foreigners and of charas in their possession, they sit on the floor around a long table to share rounds of charas. It is smoked in a pipe called chilum (the relationship between travelers and their chilums, which projection of phallic complex would have to speak in another article.) The charas is divided into dozens of small pellets that are mixed with snuff. There is an art to mixing. Too snuff can not enjoy the charas. Charas not burn too well. Who prepares the mixture, usually the owner of charas, never turn on the pipe. Pick someone in the group, and as an offering him the chilum tends to turn it on. He recites the mantra, lights, smoke once and gives it to his right, until it ends its content. Then we have to thoroughly clean chilum for the next round has not burned resin flavor. A new mantra and other chilum begins to move toward the right, challenging the clock pointers, marking an expanded time by jays.
That night, sitting at the table with nine other people, I tried what I had prepared. I was not ready yet. He was missing for a month to dry. The fresh charas irritates the throat, but the effect can still be felt. Tasted a mango, and produced a magnificent extension of the senses. The ideas are so neatly organized as well defined areas. This enveloped me leaving no room for souvenirs or projects. Seemed to be no more in the world that ten people sitting around a rectangular table overlooking the Himalayas. A sedative extreme lucidity ambition faded into the cloud coming out of chilum. It was much more subtle than marijuana and the jays classic. Not dulled the senses, but let them agile, sensitive, not sensitive. I waited for a drool at it. He was a man, who like most of the drivel, I had more possessions than the yellow robe that was covered and a copper bowl to carry food begging. With its front lines drawn by the three Shaivism, smoked the chilum and tilting my head said, walaha atcha. Now I could be sure I tried the cream, the perfect charas.
