At about 7,000 ft above sea level, Gaunap, inside Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary in Uttarakhand’s Almora district, represents everything that can be Kumaoni about a village. The mountain sides behind the village have rich forests of broad-leaved Himalayan species such as oak and rhododendron interspersed with extensive stands of the pine tree (birdsong is a constant accompaniment here); the slopes below are terraced farmlands; and, a short hike away, there is the mandatory lookout point that offers spectacular views of snow-capped peaks.

There is no motorable road to Gaunap and the only way to get here is on foot. Reliable khachhars port luggage and goods up and down; the only electric power the houses had till about a month ago was what the solar panels generated and the lead batteries were able to store, and the primary school here has all of three students. The closest secondary school is eight km away in Dhaulchina. Interestingly enough, the teacher at the primary school in Gaunap also covers the same distance, in the opposite direction. He lives in Dhaulchina and comes to Gaunap every day for his three eager pupils. And we met him on our third morning in Gaunap. Masterjiwas headed to school, his little son walking merrily along, a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.

I was part of a small group made up of children and the middle-aged on a ‘families’ trek in May this year, with a stay at Sunder Singh’s very popular homestay in Gaunap. It was an intriguing mix of many worlds, particularly for the city-bred children who were in the hills for the first time. There were khachhars and cows in the house next door and a bunch of adorable little goats to play with in another. The toilets were like the ones we have in cities. There was pasta for one meal (they hoped they’d get pizzas too) while another had a potato-curd preparation, a delicious chutney with bhang seeds and rotis made of local millets. The night sky was as clear as crystal and a stream close by was where we drank from directly. And the birding was spectacular — niltavas, flycatchers, parakeets, minivets, bulbuls, thrushes, woodpeckers, all busy raising the next generation.

As we sat together on the second afternoon for a chat on what we had seen and observed, liked and disliked, electricity became the key point of discussion. A majority in the small group of kids said they liked the fact that there was no electricity. For most in the group, it was a learning that something we take so much for granted does not exist everywhere, that that is okay, that many different worlds still exist and, most importantly, there is something here that we don’t have or ever will.

But we also learnt that this is all going to change very soon — something was set to arrive in Gaunap that the closest village of Katdhara has had for a few years already. The signs of this were visible. Poles had been erected, the wires had been pulled, transformers were in place and electric meters installed in every house. The countdown was on for the meters to start rolling and for the moment when the little village of only nine households would change forever. Gaunap had been promised electricity by Diwali of 2016 but the wait was still on though it was May of the following year.

The sense of anticipation was invisible on the surface, but a casual query as to what change this would bring, elicited similar answers from Mansu, who walks eight km to school every day, and Khem Singh, a farmer who doubles as a guide for the occasional trekking and birding group. “Ghar mein TV toh aa hi jayega (the TV will surely come into our houses),” Singh said in a matter-of-fact tone, which also had a ‘but obvious’ ring to it.

And what about those from the city who have only experienced Gaunap as a village without electricity? That, as the cliché goes, is something that only time will tell.

(Postscript: Electricity reached Gaunap towards the end of July 2017, leading to much excitement about lighting up the place and the houses. Kitchen appliances and the TV haven’t arrived yet.)