Malana, a hidden gem of the Himalayas
March 4, 2025
The road was terrifying. Waterfalls froze the ground, cars were stuck in seas of sand, and cliffs seemed infinite. I questioned many times why we were going. Was it worth it? But every person we met spoke of the mythical village of Malana. “Unmissable,” they said. If it was unmissable, we couldn’t let it slip away. We rented a scooter in Kasol and set off. A winding road took us through scenic landscapes marked by deep valleys and particularly dense vegetation, leading us to Malana Nala, a valley perpendicular to Parvati. It was a 20 km journey that felt endless. In truth, the path was breathtaking in every sense, but everything made more sense when we finally saw it. Remote and serene, there it was, Malana, at last. But let’s not be mistaken; the journey was not over yet. For over two hours, we zigzagged up the hillside, where rocks turned into steps and crumbled into dust beneath our feet. Our legs trembled, and our breath was labored. We were not alone on the path, but there were certainly those who knew it better. Malanis passed us, walking briskly, carrying all kinds of loads on their backs. Nothing short of surreal. But who are these people? What do they do here?
Their stories intertwine myths and legends dating back to 326 B.C. when the soldiers of Alexander the Great, wounded and exhausted after the epic battle against King Porus in the ancient region of Paurava, sought refuge in these serene lands. Supposedly welcomed by the inhabitants, they stayed and established roots. Believing themselves to be direct descendants of these legendary warriors, the Malanis carry this lineage with pride to this day. It is also said that, on this very hillside, resides one of the oldest democracies in history. It is believed that an elder-oracle lends his body to Jamlu Rishi, the sacred guardian of Malana, allowing him to manifest his orders. Through this ritual, the village council, elected by the community, makes political and administrative decisions.
The sight of colorful wooden houses signaled that we were close. Despite the rumors we had heard, the unknown was all we could expect. At the first corner, we were surprised by cashmere goats; at the second, a group of Malanis approached us, saying: “Cream? Cream?” “So, it seems it’s not just stories,” we thought. Exploring the narrow streets, it was impossible not to be enveloped by the feeling that we were truly in another world. A place where the concept of time seems not to exist. Curiosity pulsed in our chests as we watched children, covered in dirt, running and laughing through the streets. Others carried babies on their backs. The houses were adorned with layers of colorful clothes, and chillums passed from hand to hand. We noticed their distant yet curious glances. After several unsuccessful attempts at interaction, we began to receive timid smiles.
Walking through the village center, we came across the temple dedicated to Jamlu Rishi. Its outer walls were adorned with countless offerings and a peculiar inscription: “If you touch this sacred place, you must pay a fine.” Numerous signs throughout the village reminded us that, due to the purity of blood that these people believe they have, physical contact with these spaces and even with them is forbidden and punishable by a fine. Entering the small shops was unthinkable, let alone handing them money directly. “Place it on the counter,” they insisted. And if there was no counter, then on the ground. If there is a place where we know we do not belong, it is Malana.
The dialect of Kanashi echoes through the streets. Spoken by a scarce population of about 1,700 people, it is currently recognized as an endangered cultural treasure. With a unique linguistic structure and no available documentation, understanding its origin is a challenge for linguists. However, in this secluded locality, there is one word that sounds and resonates, that passes from mouth to mouth and travels the world. A word to which everyone surrenders and for which they all come: cream.
In the valleys of Parvati, cannabis flourishes naturally, almost as a tribute to the love between the goddess Parvati and her husband, the god Shiva. The high altitude and the region’s temperature are the perfect hosts for its proliferation. However, its cultivation results from a particular alignment of tradition and necessity. Embedded in the roots of these people for centuries, cannabis has become a fundamental element in various rituals. Worshipped and celebrated, in mid-February, when snow still covers parts of the ground, men dance barefoot with masks and cannabis leaves covering their bodies. They dance in an ode to spring and the beginning of planting.
For these people, cannabis is not just a symbol. It is a living manifestation of what sustains them. Their gold is the Malana Cream. It is in this remote village, lost in the Himalayas, that one of the most valuable hashes in the world is found. Pure, high in THC, and with a distinct aroma. It is obtained through a peculiar technique: rubbing fresh cannabis flowers between the hands, transferring the resin to the artisans’ palms, forming a malleable paste.
As we walked through the village, we were frequently approached by Malanis selling Malana Cream. The sale of this type of charas, as the locals call it, is the lifeblood of the local economy, being the main source of income for much of the population. Every year, travelers from around the world venture through these valleys to sample this highly coveted hash, but it doesn’t stop there. In the cannabis capital, Amsterdam, some coffee shops already feature this very product on their menu. How does it get there? The truth is that, even though it is illegal, it ends up reaching Amsterdam and being sold behind a counter. But that is a story for another article.
Its wild abundance in the region is undeniable, as is its cultural significance. However, the increased demand for hash and the resulting tourism are not well received by the government. In most Indian states, possession, consumption, and sale of cannabis are considered illegal acts, and this state is no exception. Consequently, there have been periodic police interventions in Malana. A large number of plants have been cut down and burned over time, forcing the Malanis to move their crops to higher altitudes year after year.
Visiting Malana is undoubtedly unmissable. This village has developed as a singular, isolated, and independent entity. Although located in Himachal Pradesh, India, its inhabitants do not consider themselves part of the country. But this village is much more than its charm; it is a reminder that challenges us to recognize and value the complexity and cultural diversity that reside in our world. It is a symbol of resistance in a world in constant transformation. It invites us to practice mutual respect for the individuality of each culture, for it is through this appreciation that we can truly achieve a deeper understanding and a more meaningful connection between all the peoples of the world.