Raakash of Rargaadi – The Phantom of Johar Valley

Many years ago, on a freezing night in the Johar Valley, a lone trader stopped to rest in a cave at Rargaadi on the mountain trail— only to realize that a mysterious shadow was mirroring his every move. They say the Raakash (monster) of Rargaadi still roams those desolate and treacherous paths of, where few dare to linger. But was it truly a monster, or just a tale woven to keep travellers alert and away from these perilous mountain routes? Even today, stories of unseen forces and strange occurrences persist, blurring the line between reality and folklore. Through these tales, the writer poses a question—are they merely folklore, or cautionary tales carefully crafted between fear and survival?

Read this story in Hindi

They say some stories are crafted just to scare people, but some hold a fragment of truth—so deeply embedded that even after being passed down through generations, their impact never fades. When the wind rustles, when strange sounds emerge from the bushes, or when a shadow flickers in the silence of the night— people whisper, “there must be an invisible presence here.” From the depths of forests, towering cliffs, raging streams and abandoned ruins— all have a tale attached to them. Today I will tell you one such story— the tale of the Raakash (phantom monster) of a terrifying place called Rargaadi!

Centuries ago, traders from Johar Valley in Uttarakhand would traverse the high Himalayan  passes to travel between India and Tibet. During the six freezing months of winter, they travelled between  Munsiari and the plains of northern India, and when summer arrived, they set out towards Tibet. They carried rice, maize, and lentils on their horses, sheep and goats, exchanging them in Tibet for gold, salt, yaks, and livestock. This trade flourished for nearly 300 years, but in 1962, after the Indo-China war, it came to a permanent halt.

The journey through this part of the Himalay was long and treacherous, marked by steep cliffs and rugged trails. For traders, Milam village (at 3,400 meters) in the Malla (upper) Johar Valley served as a crucial stop. On their way to Milam, they had to pass through a place called Rargaadi, situated about 35 kilometres from Munsiari, along the banks of the Gori river. Johar Valley is located in Uttarakhand’s Pithoragarh district, where the Gori river originates from the Milam Glacier, which is about 64 kilometres from Munsiari. Because of this, Johar Valley is also known as Milam Valley or the Gori Valley.

Traders traveling to Tibet often said that a mysterious monster resided in Rargaadi—one that not only terrified travellers but also mimicked their every move with uncanny precision. There used to be a cave (udiyar) in Rargaadi, a passage that foot travellers had to cross, as it was their only way forward. This cave was located near the Gori River, on the slope of a steep mountain. It stood about four meters high and stretched twenty meters in length. Within the darkness of this eerie cave, dwelt the mimicry monster of Rargaadi. Even today, when travellers from the Johar Valley pass through Rargaadi, they avoid stopping there for the night. It is said that this  monster still roams those deserted paths— waiting for an encounter with an unsuspecting traveller…

As a child, I had heard countless tales from my family and the elders in my village Malla Ghorpatta (Munsiari) about the tricks and horrors of this Raakshas (monster). And whenever someone wilfully imitated another, people would remark “The Rargaadi’s Raakshas must have possessed them!”

According to elders, the Raakshas of Rargaadi is no ordinary ghost. It doesn’t just imitate a person— it can replicate their voice, their movements, and even reflect their deepest sorrows and fears. And the strangest part? No one has ever seen it clearly. But those who have felt its presence… they were never the same again. It is believed that its body is covered in long hair, its nails are so long that they resemble claws, and its build is towering, muscular, and fearsome. For years, this route was well-travelled by traders and travellers, and the stories tied to it still linger in people’s memories. Some dismiss them as mere folklore, while others swear they have seen— if not felt the presence of the Raakshas, or at least its shadow.

A Terrifying Night in Rargaadi

Many years ago, a trader was delayed on his return from Tibet. By the time he set out, the people of Johar Valley had already descended to Munsiari to escape the winter cold. He was making the journey back alone, with only his sheep and goats for company. As he reached Rargaadi, he decided to spend the night in the udiyar (cave). He pitched his tent and set off to gather firewood to cook his meal.

When he returned, he noticed that one of his sheep was missing. He was bewildered. As darkness crept in, he searched everywhere, but there was no trace of it. He assumed that a wild animal must have taken it. But the next morning, as he woke up, he found all his sheep and goats lying dead. Who had killed them? How had they died? He had no answers. Overcome with fear and despair, he sank to the ground and wept. And then— deep from within the shadows of Rargaadi’s cave—he heard someone else crying. He froze. His eyes darted around, searching for the source, but he saw nothing. Yet, the sound… he could hear it clearly. When he wept, the voice wept with him. When he fell silent, it too went quiet. A chilling realization gripped him.

Suddenly, he felt something strange on his throat—a hard lump had formed, as if a piece of flesh had solidified there. Before he could make sense of it, a shadow emerged from the darkness. It appeared tall, covered in thick hair, with claw-like nails—and its eyes… they glowed red, piercing through the darkness. The creature moved toward the trader and, without a word, plucked the lump from his throat. The trader trembled with fear. That same night, another trader arrived at the spot, unaware of the strange events that had just unfolded. As soon as he set foot there, the monster took that same lump and pressed it onto the new trader’s throat!

There was a time when many shepherds in the mountains suffered from ‘ghenga’ or goitre, a swelling in the throat. Back then, iodized salt was scarce, and it was only with its introduction into mountain people’s diets that this disease gradually disappeared from the region.

An Illness or a Phantom’s Deception?

There is another story that I had heard from my mother— one that left me conflicted. Did the Rargaadi Raakash   truly exist? Could it really be the cause of someone’s illness?

Many moons ago, during the summer migration from Munsiari to Malla Johar, a family passed through Rargaadi on their way to Laspa (located at 3,400 meters asl). Not long after they returned home, one of the women in the family began to fall ill. Worried, her family decided to take her to the hospital. But despite the doctors’ treatment, there was no improvement. Day by day, her condition worsened.

In our mountain communities, when medicine fails to cure an illness, people often turn to prayers and rituals, propitiating spirits and  mountain deities. Believing that this might help, her family arranged for the rituals  to be performed. But even after that , nothing changed— her health continued to decline. Then, strange things started happening. At times, the woman would mimic the voices and gestures of her own family members. At first, they dismissed it as a fleeting oddity. But as her behavior grew more unsettling, fear gripped the household. No one could understand what was happening to her.

And then, one day, she suddenly declared, “I am the Raakash of Rargaadi!“

Her family was stunned. The illness that had plagued her for so long was not any ordinary sickness—it was the trick of the mimic monster of Rargaadi. Terrified, they decided that the only way to free her from this phantoms’ grip was to conduct a special ritual for the spirit of the Rargaadi monster itself. But just as they began preparing for it, something happened that no one had expected— the woman died.

The Trader Who Took on the Raakash of Rargaadi

It was a cold night, just before the onset of winter. Silence blanketed the land, and in the distance, the snow-covered peaks gleamed under the moonlight. Like every year, the traders of Johar Valley journeyed toward Munsiari for the winter season. Among them was a trader who, along with his flock of sheep and goats stopped at the cave of Rargaadi. The journey was long, night had fallen, and moving forward was no longer an option. He pitched his tent and lit a fire.

The flames flickered, casting a dim glow around him, their warmth offering some comfort against the biting cold. He busied himself with preparing his meal when suddenly…a voice echoed from somewhere far away—

“I am here too… cook food for me as well!”

The trader looked around, startled. But in the darkness, he could see nothing. Dismissing it as a trick of his mind, he  went back to preparing his meal. But just moments later, the same voice echoed again— this time, closer. The trader picked up a  log and threw it into the fire, making the flames rise a little higher. A short while later, from behind the bushes, a figure slowly emerged. Tall, thin and hunched in a strange manner. A sudden sense of relief washed over the trader— at least it was another human!

Smiling, he called the man closer to the food and asked, “Who are you, brother? Where are you coming from? Are you a trader too?”

No response. The trader felt a bit uneasy now. He looked closely— the stranger sat across from him, staring at him in the dim firelight, but his eyes showed no emotion. Still, the trader did not dwell on it for long. He served himself food and placed another plate for the stranger.

As soon as the trader lifted his first bite, the stranger mirrored his action exactly. The trader put the morsel into his mouth—the stranger did the same. The trader wiped his forehead; so did the stranger. The trader cleared his throat; so did the stranger. And then, a realization struck— the man in front of him was no ordinary soul. He was imitating his every move! A chill ran down the trader’s spine. His throat went dry. He decided to test something— he stopped moving. The stranger also froze. Fear crept into the trader, but he did not panic. He quickly came up with a plan. He reached into his bundle and pulled out ghee (clarified butter) and some lard, smearing them over his body. As he had expected, the stranger did the same. Then the trader remembered an old trick— if you want to defeat a mimic, make it do something that forces it to flee!

The trader picked up a burning log from the fire and pretended to press it against his own skin. The stranger, without hesitation, did the same.

But the moment the flaming log touched the stranger’s fat-laden skin, he let out a bloodcurdling scream— “I’m burning! I’m burning! What do I do now?”

Without missing a beat, the trader shouted, “Run! Jump into the water!”

Without thinking, the mysterious spirit leaped into the nearby Gori river, where the strong current swept him away. The trader wasted no time. He gathered his belongings, rounded up his flock and walked through the  night without stopping. By morning, he had reached the outskirts of Munsiari.

No one knows whether the monster of Rargaadi truly met his end that night or not. Nor was it ever clear what his powers were or what he really looked like. Some say he took many forms, while others recall his terrifying deeds— a mystery that not still faded into oblivion.

The Mystery of a Lost Trail

I had never seen ghosts or spirits— neither in the day nor at night— nor had I ever witnessed their shadow cast upon anyone. But after hearing these stories, I couldn’t help but wonder: what was the truth behind the  phantom of Rargaadi?

It was April of 2023 when my friends suddenly suggested, “Let’s go visit Rargaadi!”

The journey to Milam, which once required a long and difficult trek, had now become easier with the new road extending up to Rargaadi. Many people from Munsiari were making the trip. Deep down, I was thrilled— finally, I would get to see the mysterious place I had heard so much about as a child. What would it feel like to be there? Would the place be as eerie as the stories described?

On the day of our journey, the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly overhead. As our vehicle moved towards Rargaadi, the scenery around us was breathtaking. To the east on the right, the glistening snow-clad peaks of the Panchachuli massif; to the left, a dense forest; and ahead, the towering Hansling mountain.

As soon as we got out of our vehicle near Rargaadi, we saw the Gori river flowing below the road. Its deep, resonant roar echoed all around. A cold wind whistled past, making my dupatta (scarf) and hair flutter wildly. There was a strange tension in the air.

After alighting from the vehicle, we walked about a kilometre along the banks of the river.  I spotted the towering cliffs of Raramen Singh and Babil Dhar— so high that even after tilting my head all the way back, their tops seemed endless. A childhood memory surfaced— elders used to say that anyone who looked up at these mountains would have their cap fall off! All around, only the roar of the Gori river and the whistling wind could be heard. A strange, unspoken restlessness stirred within me.

Rargaadi also has a waterfall known as “Rargaadi ka Chhyur.” This waterfall flows right onto the middle of the path, constantly drenching travellers passing through. Due to its slippery terrain and the strong flow of water, this place is considered dangerous. Now with the construction of the road, the risk of falling rocks remains a constant threat. 

Upon reaching the udiyar of the Raakash of Rargaadi, everyone was taken aback. Till two years ago, a massive cave had stood there for centuries. But now  a massive section of the cave had been broken to make way for the road. Yet even today, those who visit this place find themselves overcome by an inexplicable unease and  tension— just like the feeling that gripped me at that moment.

The weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. Heavy rain began to pour and thunder rumbled loudly and a darkness descended in the middle of the day. That’s when I remembered the stories my mother used to tell me—those ghost stories she would narrate whenever I misbehaved as a child. My companions, too, were recalling those same stories. The river’s fierce current, the eerie howling of the icy winds—so intense that it felt as if they could sweep someone away added to the tension. Towering mountains surrounded us on all sides, and for a moment, it felt as if I had stepped into my mother’s stories.

In the Himalay, the weather is always unpredictable; when clear skies could be swallowed by dark clouds and rain could begin- was difficult to tell. That is the most remarkable thing about this place—it changes every moment. One thing was certain— Rargaadi had suddenly transformed into a terrifying and perilous place, one where anyone would fear venturing to alone.

I had heard countless stories about the Raakash of Rargaadi from my mother as a child. She would repeat them over and over so that I wouldn’t misbehave. Fear would silence me, and the image of that monster— one I had never even seen would stay with me long after. And today I was feeling just the same way.

A Tale Of Fear Or The Shadow Of Truth?

Even today, people claim to feel the presence of the monster—perhaps because Rargaadi itself can turn into a terrifying place. Do people experience fear based on their own perceptions? After all, isn’t fear what gives birth to such stories? Many believe that the mystical monster still lingers somewhere in this very place. Over generations, countless tales and legends about the  phantom have been passed down, serving as warnings for centuries.

Some of my companions believe these stories could be true because they have heard them from their elders since childhood. To them, these are not just folktales but echoes of the past, carrying centuries-old beliefs. One young companion, however, is completely convinced of their truth. He claims to have personally felt an unseen presence, and the stories told by his grandmother have only strengthened his belief.

But is this truly the story of a monster, or is it a terrifying reality designed to keep us alert about this place? In desolate, treacherous regions like Rargaadi, many accidents have occurred— losing one’s way in the icy paths, falling rocks, and getting trapped in unforeseen situations. Could this legend be the memory of some ancient tragedy, reshaped by generations into a cautionary tale?

Fear, at times, becomes our greatest weapon for survival. Perhaps this tale was created to keep people away from such places— a way to protect them from dangerous mountain passes and the unpredictability of the weather. Or maybe it was a means to explain misfortunes and accidents when no other reasoning seemed plausible at the time. But the more this story is told, the more the question arises— is it merely a folk tale, or does a ghostly presence, a mystical shadow, a phantom or a monster still linger there?