Dhasra Village (Uttarakhand):
A cloud rolls into Dhasra village blanketing everything with a shroud of white. The nervousness is apparent on Indri Devi's face as she quickly gulps down the remainder of her tea. "We need to start moving now," she tells me, and without waiting, gets up and darts into her hut in the village.
The 80-year-old emerges moments later, with a small sling bag over her shoulder and a walking stick in her hand. By now a similar scene is repeating itself throughout the village, as residents pour out onto the small village square to move towards higher ground.
"The village is not safe anymore," informs Dinesh, a mountaineering guide and a resident of the village. The father of a three-year-old boy, Dinesh, like most of the others, was born in the village and lived their entire life here but now an uncertain fate, he says, threatens them all.
Soon, the small procession of villagers starts off for the top of the mountain. Indri Devi is at the back of the group. "I am an old woman so cannot keep up with everyone," she says.
After 5 pm, Dhasra is deserted. The only people to stay back are an ailing senior and his family who will look after him.
The bitter irony for villages like Dhasra is that while they were spared the destruction brought on the torrential rains and surging rivers, they now face the real threat of being buried under by landslides.
Just above this village, deep cracks appeared in the hill about two years ago. The heavy rains have only widened the gaps. A survey carried out by experts last year concluded that the village was in danger. "It's only a matter of time before the entire hill side comes crashing down," says a village elder, adding that appeals to the government to relocate the village have so far gone unanswered.
After nearly an hour of trekking, the villagers are able to cover only half of the distance. The steep incline and slippery terrain have slowed them down.
The villagers stop briefly to catch their breath and remove several leeches which have clung on to their shoes and worked their way in.
Finally, two hours later, they reach a clearing on top of the mountain and just above the landslide zone.
For the past month and a half since rains started, the village has made temporary shelters where entire families spend the night only to return the next day to tend their fields.
It's the most basic of structures, made by binding logs together and filling the walls with leaves and moss. It barely keeps the rain out.
"This is still better than spending the night in their village with the danger of a landslide," says Mahabir Pawar, one of the villagers who trekked from Dhasra village. As he makes tea for us inside the hut, I count at least four other family members, his cow and a newborn calf, all crammed into a hut no bigger than eight by twelve feet room.
Outside Mahabir's small hut the rain has picked up speed. We see Indri Devi, who was one of the last to walk up, now making her way to a hut on the other side of the clearing. Despite the hard climb, she pauses in front of our hut, raising a hand raised to give us blessings before turning and walking away into the night.