Farewell, my dad

Last January when I heard that my father was detected with the last stage of cancer, I was deeply pained. I knew he had only a handful of days to live and spend time with us. His clock has started ticking. I saw him alive in front of him and knew these moments will soon be memories. And with time these memories will only get added to the bountiful of memories I have with him - childhood memories, childish memories; Memories of affection, memories of argument; Memories of words of wisdom, memories of silence....endless memories....

Over the last few years, since the time I came to Bangalore, we met twice or thrice a year. It was either when I went to my native or he came down to Bangalore. Rest was over the phone - be it the annual birthday or marriage anniversary wishes, good news or bad news. It is one thing to know that your dad is there and he is only a phone call away. And its a completely different thing to know he will NEVER be around you for the rest of your life. I was preparing myself mentally about how to cope when the inevitable knocks the door. I convinced myself and to all around me that death is the only natural and obvious thing in each of our lives.You can be poor or rich, lettered or not, fair or dark. But what you cannot is escape death.  "Either you see somebody die or somebody sees you die. If you die earlier than one person that does not mean he or she will not die!"

Treatment in Bangalore followed soon after. Hospitals, doctors, medical tests...Sometimes the treatment took a positive turn, sometimes not-so-positive. But we could sense the end of the journey is not far. We were prolonging the journey with medication. Its like in a stormy night you know the old tiny hut will fall apart any time, but you still hope for a miracle - a hope against hope! You hear the wind howling through the window creeks and rattling the feeble doors. Deep inside you feel the tremor when the thunder rumbles and the rains lashes the thatched roof of the old hut. You know its a matter of time you have to give in to Nature. The pain killers were only camouflaging  the real disease, which were gradually taking control of his vital organs - one by one. We were painting the house, hoping it will stand tall for a few more years. But the truth is, the foundation has been badly hit and the structure is very shaky. It will crumble down any time.
And, ultimately, it did on the 25th of October.

It is the law of Nature that for any race - be it human or animal - the tired legs pass on the baton to the energetic legs and young blood and retire physically. I feel the person still lives through the baton. The words of wisdom my father learnt from his father and elders were passed on to us, after he chiseled them.. Through me - my thoughts, my words, my actions, my deeds, -  my ancestors are alive, in some form or the other. And through all of us flows the blood and spirit of the most ancient civilizations of the world. As individuals,we are mere torch bearers, who have come to this world to perform certain duties. Once we are done, we leave the stage silently and let the spotlight focus on someone else. After all, the must show go on. The civilisations and the human race continues to march ahead, leaving only the tired physical body behind. The light that is within us never fades or dies. Like the twinkling stars on the dark sky, like the tiny water droplets in the ocean, the glow may seem negligible, but not insignificant. It is the conglomerate of such billions of glows over thousands of centuries which has formed what we refer to as human race or human civilization.

May my father's soul rest in peace and may the light within him continue to enlighten us!

Part II: Spiti leg of The Himalayan Tribal Circuit - A journey of a lifetime

Day 5: (Kalpa - Tabo:220 km) Tuesday, 30th Sept, 2014

"World's most treacherous road" and raw beauty:

220 km in the mountains is not an easy drive. I had heard that the road was bad. Its not the first time I have heard that. But none elaborated how bad it was.  Before anyone jumps on to blame the authorities and the government, let me tell you that this area is one of the most landslide prone areas of the Himalayas. So, everytime a road is created, there is a landslide in the monsoon, landslide when the snow melts and men can do nothing but watch in helplessness the newly built road crumble like a pack of cards..
We started off at 8:30 AM. A couple of cars already left the city of Kalpa by that time. Through the clouds I could see the majestic Kailash peak. We had re-filled the car last evening in Recong Keo, where petrol pump is available. Next petrol pump would be available in Kaza, but petrol not always guaranteed.

Waterfalls added to the woe of the road. The waterfall did not have to care about anybody. In the most melodious tune, it flowed over the road. I shudder to think its condition in the monsoons when they are in full flow. I was taking things in small steps. There was a map I took print out from the net.
 "So, the next village is 60 km. In 2 hours, we should be able to reach, right?" I asked Rajesh. "Minimum, three, bhaiya (brother). The road will get more horrible going forward". I knew it, but hoped he would agree with me.
I was sitting beside him. The speedometer did not find any opportunity to tilt right. The arrow

hovered between 10 and 20 kilometer mark. 220 km this way would take ages. But we cant do anything. Greenery gone, it was the rocky mountains all around. The truck ahead of us sent a whole bag of dust spiraling along the road. And any truck coming from the opposite direction made us squeeze to one corner of the road.

And I was thinking, in a month's time from then, snow would start to fall. By December it would be fully snow clad. I would not say inaccessible, but this place would be dangerous to visit during snow. The roads which are nothing but a trail would be layered in snow. A slip here and it would be the difference between life and death. And then the cold. Almost all hotels in the region are closed. So, no question of heated rooms. In fact, I am apprehensive about the power condition during those times. And yet I cannot suppress an exciting feeling that surfaced from deep within. "One October like this", I told my wife, "What if I pack my bags and come to stay with a local here?" I would throw my mobile deep down in the stream that is only visible like a thread from here. And spend the entire winter with a local here, stay in his home, eat what he eats. How mesmerised I will be to see the first snowfall of the season and then more snow, layers of snow, until all the naked mountains would be draped in white gown, like the bride. And I would look at them in awe. I would bask in the sun the whole day and the whole night I would wait for the sunrays glitter on the snow peaks and frozen river. For the locals its an annual affair. But for me its a new world altogether. When I survive the harsh winter and return back to the plain lands in April, I would have a treasure of experiences to share. Wouldn't that be great?

We drove for hours through miles without meeting any person on the road. May be some army truck or car came from the opposite direction. But they were few and far between. They call them villages, but they were nothing except a cluster of houses. A notice board said "population 30 or "population 60" or "population 90 ". Then again the lonely drive continued. It seemed an endless drive through the mountains, alongside the brooks, crossing the waterfalls, stretches of bumpy rides and awestruck landscape all around.

An actor enacts so many characters in his or her life and lives through those characters. Through journeys, I get the opportunity to step into different worlds of different people. The best thing about journeys is they take me to different worlds.
After much winding roads, we reached a place which was flattish and had a restaurant at one edge of the road. We had dal fry, hot rotis and subji, with a dash of pickle.It was around 2:30 PM. We met a family who came from Tabo in a small vehicle: Maruti 800! They asked us about the road condition towards Kalpa. We told them not to expect anything great. I calculated that by the time they are half
way from here to Kalpa, night would set in. And driving in the dark through those roads can be dangerous.

The scenic Nako lake and calm Tabo: 

The resturant was just just before the Nako lake. Nako Lake is actually a very small lake. Photos wont reveal that. The surroundings of the lake enhanced its beauty manifold. The walk itself was a pleasant one. Narrow road with trees and their changing colours in autumn on either sides. Trees with mixed autumn colours of green, yellow, brown and red skirted the lake. In the distant backdrop were hazy sights of mountain range. As we were walking wind with howling sound whistled through those leaves. The old leaves which somehow had managed to cling onto it, could no longer hold any

further. They fell and formed a soft carpet on the road and the ground. There were plenty indications that winter was knocking at the door. Its was time the trees, the humans prepare themselves for yet another tough time.

There seemed to be no end to the journey. And no end to the bumps. Any stretch of good road seemed like the oasis in the desert. It brought lots of cheer in the vehicle. But they were short-lived. We crossed Sumdo at around 3:30. Halted there. Collected some more apples. This was the last place where we could have got apples. Though Spiti also nurtured apples, they would ripe around 20 days later.

I clearly remember around 4:30 we were passing through an area which had heaps of small stones the mountain slopes. Even if a sheep walks above them, landslide is bound to happen. We saw roads have got diverted as landslide blocked and vanished portions of the old road. As the sun hid behind some mountains the temperature dropped suddenly. We were also getting worried. There was no sign of Tabo,our destination for the day and halt for the night. Suddenly far away we noticed some houses. "That's Tabo!" said Rajesh. Those seemed to be the sweetest words I had heard that day. We had booked our hotel (Tow Dey Himalaya Hotel). Our manager told that Tabo was full
that night. There are a total 100 rooms in the town and all are occupied.

Tabo is a small town., more of a village. You can feel that its a remote place. Except BSNL signal, no other mobile network works. There was no power when we checked in. "Power would come around seven or eight o'clock", we were informed. A huge mountain with the least cover of vegetation stood unapologetically in front of our hotel room. My wife bought a muffler from the hotel.
In the dining hall we were the only ones present. The hotel manager had played a buddhist chant, those with deep throat. The chants echoed among the four walls of the entire hall, It complimented the absolute silence of the atmosphere. Its hard to describe what went on within. I was transformed into a different world. Later when in Bangalore, I played similar chants from youtube,but never got that effect.
After dinner we stepped out of the hotel for a casual evening walk. But the chillness in the air and pitch darkness all around didnt encourage us much. The moon shone brightly over the mountain. The sky was starry. In Bangalore the air pollution has ensured that stars remain hidden permanently. Here we have them in abundance. Its hard to believe that this place and Bangalore is in the same world, let alone same country.
It was indeed a long day today. Plus when you see boards proudly displaying "You are travelling on world's most treacherous roads", you know its the journey of a lifetime. Today when I write the blog, I cannot recollect the bodyache I suffered after the journey. All that fills my mind and thoughts are the landscape, the raw natural beauty which civilisation has not been able to spoil yet, the feeling of being insignificant creatures in front of majestic Nature and those chants still ring in my ear.

Day 6: (Tabo - Dhankar Monastery - Pin Valley - Kaza: 90 km) 1st October, Wednesday

Morning spiti: 

We woke up to a bright and sunny day. Were ready by 9. And continued our journey. In the breakfast table I met other drivers. I chalked out the agenda for today. In these regions, it is very important to know what lies ahead of you. There can be road blockages, repair work or any other such hurdles on the course. Our initial plan was the Dhankar Monastary and Pin Valley. After discussion, I realised that getting to the interiors of the Pin Valley was tough. There was a major landslide on the way. Another driver's car was stuck in the road for about a month.

Dhankar Monastery was a detour on the right. It was a few kilometers uphill. The drive through Spiti was adventurous and yet peaceful! In our daily life, we are all so much surrounded by sound, be it in babbles of human voice, horns of cars, the harsh noise of machines that it is impossible for us to imagine a situation when the element of sound is absent. Dead of night can be silent, but our vision either has the

artificial light or total darkness to compliment. And we are always thinking about the next morning and the checklist we have to complete. When the dead silence is complimented by a grey mountain range and blue sky, then our mind ans soul finds a resting place. On top of it, there was no mobile network. So, there was no question getting bothered about the outside world. They surely can do a few days without my presence. At one place we stopped beside a river. Now the sound of the
murmuring brook and breeze through the leaves added to the silence. I cant say whether GOD reside in temples, but he surely does reside here! How can GOD or any other person leave these open valleys and fresh air and get confined to the four walls of a room?

The Gigantic Pin Valley:

The entire landscape was intimidating. No doubt about it. We have forgotten the warmth that Kinnaur had provided. You respect some out of affection and warmth, and you respect some out of admiration and fear. Spiti commanded respect by its sheer rawness. When I entered the Pin Valley, I was even more humbled. We were so tiny creatures. All that worries me in my daily life seemed so

insignificant here. There was a huge stretch of salt deposition. And I was standing in front of it. What am I exactly searching? What brings me to this place? What shall I take from here? For the last few years, I am in a mission to discover India, my motherland. Am I not discovering myself more in the process? The journey to Auli really started the process of discovering India and unearthing myself. So, in a way the holy trail through Devaprayag and Rudraprayag brought in a change in me. I dont remember of any GOD or messengers from heaven coming in my dreams and asking me to start exploring. Then what brought this transformation in me? I went to England to study there, settle there and explore Europe, where the irony there were so many things to be explored in my own backyard.
To someone who hasn't seen a rose, its impossible to explain what is so special about the rose. He has seen red colour, he has seen other flowers, he has smelled that fragrance. But when all these elements of earth come together in the form of a rose, they outlive the individuals and form something so different that humans can never describe.

Colourful Kaza: 

During the initial days of my professional life, coming to my native Chandannagore was always exciting. There was no cheap airfares and commute was mainly by train. When the train was about to enter the Howrah station, the number of railway lines increased manifold and I could see the "Chand bridge". Yes, we are arriving. After many years when our car was entering Kaza I got the same feeling. I dont think I was tired and craved for rest. In fact, we reached Kaza around 2:30 PM. Then it might me the confidence of seeing some houses and some more people! Kaza was colourful. The trees on either sides of the road was changing colours. You can sense that winter is coming. A strong wind blew just as we entered our hotel room. We were informed that Bollywood superstar Aamir

Khan came with his family and stayed at the same room about 15 days back. Before you draw any conclusion, it was not a luxury hotel at all. It was the best in town, however - Hotel Deyzor. I dont believe that luxury is always the best. There are rich and famous who throng the road-side eateries and would swear by them.
My daughter was insisting that we once again go towards the river. But the locals advised us not to. While we were wandering and wondering what to do, a flurry of clouds covered the mountains in front of us. When they floated away, they left their mark on them: fresh snow - as fresh as they can get! As the sun set in, typical to any hilly place, the temperature plummed. We thought it was best to return to the hotel room.
The hotel owner-cum-manager (Mr. Bedi, who likes to call himself Shepard) was an interesting character. He seemed to hold multiple national records including biking from Kanyakumari to Leh, climbing Kanchenjungha. His hotel would remain open, he said, for another month or month-and-a-half. Then they would shut and return back around April. He plans for some cycling trip in Burma in the winters.
In Kaza shutting down hotels is not locking the doors and making sure that the insecticide is sprayed. They meticulously ensure that each and every water pipe is also empty, otherwise the freezing climate will freeze and burst the water pipes.
"What are the stones on your table?" I asked the manager.
"Marine fossils"
"What??? Marine fossils? But how come they are here?"
"They are found in certain pockets of the Himalayas. There are 3 villages nearby - Lanza, Hikkim and Komik. Marine fossils are found there! You almost bump into them when you are roaming around in the villages."
Phew! Small piece of information and so priceless.
I recollected my geographical knowledge on how the Himalayas was formed by the movement of the tectonic plates and how the ocean was "sandwiched" between the plates.

Day 7: (Kaza - Lanza,Hikkim,Komic - Kye Monastery - Losar: 120 KM) 2nd October, Thursday

The remote villages and marine fossils:

Sometimes you miss a small piece of information and you miss a whole lot of things. So, its important to note down those points, especially, when you are visiting places like these, where you dont come too often. In most places the three villages do find mention, but celebrated more for being "remotest villages", "tribal villages", "highest permanently inhabited villages in the world". Those sound interesting, but does that excite me enough to travel another 40 miles or so? Not really. But when you hear something as rare as marine fossils found aplenty in the region, then there are few things on earth that will deter my urge to go there. So, we went to the villages. Road or no road, we

had to reach there. The first village was Lanza. A huge statue of Lord Buddha oversaw the village. A few houses which you can count from the road, lay scattered. Herds of sheep and horses grazed the grass, whatever was left. Just behind the village the mountains were turning white. And October has just started! We did not stop in the village. We were wondering how to collect that fossils. A girl with a torn and tattered bag asked if I was , in any way,  interested in buying fossils. I jumped in joy and grabbed them with both hands. Then we went to Hikkim and lastly Komik. The famed stuffed snow leopard is kept in Komik. The air was thin here. So, I had to constantly remind my daughter of not running and jumping around.

The picturesque Kye Monastery

If I had to spend one winter with the locals here, I would also spend another with the monks of Kye Monastery. Perched on a cliff, it provides the most breath-taking view of the spiti valley. Eagles soared above. Down below the serpentine road lost its way through the mountains. How do the monks survive when temperature drops to even -35C here? Where do they get water and food from? I long to see their life more closely. There was a restaurant in the Kye Monastery. While my wife was making my daughter eat something, I was chatting with the lady and her husband, who runs the restaurant. I got to know their life a little better. How they toil six months each year when the soil supports harvesting and tourists come here. The other six months , when the region in under the snow blanket, they are at home - meeting relatives and playing cards by the day and eating mutton and sleeping long by the night. "Its six months work and six months vacation like our kids", said the husband with a broad smile that stretched from ear to ear. And I wondered, so what am I doing working so hard the whole year? These people also live and so do I. These people dont think beyond one year.
They have kept their life simple. They go by the flow of the Nature.And we have tried to take life by its horns. Meetings, emails, customer meet, investments...standing inside the Kye Monastary and looking at the vast valley in front of me, I wondered whether all the tensions and anxieties that we take in our daily life is even worth taking? Shouldn't life be left to flow on its own at times. Some may call it destiny, some may call it fate.
From there we went to the Kibber village, which was once the highest permanently inhabited village in the world, now taken over by Komik.

Towards Losar:

As we traveled towards Losar we found the roads turning worse. Now were were no longer going on roads peppered with pebbles and stones. We were driving on dried-up river beds, big boulders, stretches where water was flowing incessantly from some waterfall high up. We were in a state of topsy turvy inside the car. Sometime we needed to hold our breath and wait for some plain lands. Darkness was engulfing the region and yet no signs of the village. On our way we found another car which broke down a good 30 km from Losar. Since there was no village before Losar, we feared how they would spend the night. My wife and daughter were growing restless and that was understandable. When night befell the beauty which hypnotized us hid under the darkness. And then our body would wake up to the pains and problems around. We reached Losar before it got too dark. But the power was still missing from the small village. We were informed electricity would come late at night. I was worried about charging my camera. The spectacular landscape made my camera work overtime and it had no energy left in it!
Without my notice my wife pulled the heavy suitcases around, trying to organise and arrange them. At 13400 feet above sea level (the highest point in Europe is almost half of that, 6762 feet above sea level), the consequence can be dangerous. She developed some initial symptoms of AMS (Acute Mountaineering Syndrome ), which I quickly addressed with the medicines I was carrying.

Day 8 (Losar - Kunzum Pass - Chandrataal Lake - Batal - Rohtang Pass - Manali: 180 KM) 3rd October, Friday

Starting before dawn from Losar

People , generally, spend overnight in Kaza and then then the next day go to Manali. I had planned a night halt in Losar. And there is a reason to it. It will allow me to take a shot at the heavenly Chandrataal Lake. As the saying goes, Empire Yudhistir breathed his last in front of this lake. It was mentioned as the doorstep to heaven. From the time I read about it, I found it irresistible.
While planning I thought we should start around 7 AM from Losar. But after reaching Losar, I found we should start before 6 AM. It was freezing cold and the stars were still twinkling. The "advice" Sahil, the owner of our hotel Nomad Cottage, gave sank our heart. "Lots of tourists have come to Kullu and Manali during the Dussehera and they would flock in the Rohtang Pass. So, you would take around 16-17 hours to reach Manali." We prayed he would be wrong. He was, but only marginally. We reached Manali at 9:30 PM, after 15.5 hours of super-hectic journey!
As we crossed the Kunzum Pass we realised the less we talk about the road, the better it is for our mental health. As the fag end of the Kunzum Pass a notice board with a green arrow towards the right read "Chandrataal. 14 KM. Jeepable 12.5 KM". We took the jeepable road.

Humbled at Chandrataal lake:

There is a specialty about this 12.5 KM Jeepable road. Its a single road. Which means, if you encounter another vehicle coming from opposite direction, you need to squeeze in a bend of the road, hoping it is wide enough to allow it to pass. Exciting! We were one of the early birds to the lake. So we didnt expect any car to return by then. After a lot of skills, our car was able to reach a point, from where we need to walk. There is no arrow as to the exact direction. People have walked on the grass and left a mark. And there were multiple such paths. I was really apprehensive about how my daughter would react to the trek in that steep area. It was tough. Here, in October, at 14100 feet above sea level the air get really thin and cold. So, with the heavy woolen clothes its not easy an morning walk. At times we sat on a rock, took a breath and then continued. I had seen some photos in the net. So, when I saw the background I could identify. When we reached there it was heavenly. Its so pristine, so pure. If there is heaven, it has to be somewhere around. The reflection of the mountains on the waters was picture perfect. I thanked GOD for giving me the opportunity to come here and stand in front of the divine beauty. Life seemed so full and yet so empty in front of the lake. We spend most of our life in aspiring small things and worldly pleasures. And then one day we realise how foolish we have been hankering after them. Blessed are those whose realisation is not on a day when they are closer to leaving this earth.

While returning from Chandrataal Lake, my daughter said was too tired to walk back. So I took her on my shoulders and made it to the car parking. I even carried an oxygen canister, lest we need it in emergency. Thankfully, we brought it back unused.

Where is the road?

We crossed Batal and then drove through non-existing roads. Its no wonder, therefore, that the rear tyre of our car was punctured. But I must say, if tires get punctured, it is the ideal place to be - a river

flowing in full swing, the mountains on the other side having patches of fresh snow on them and plenty of pure oxygen. We had lunch in a road-side dhaba - lip-smacking hot rotis and subji.  We were driving steadily and were happy to be in Rohtang Pass around 4 PM. "Sahil, must be wrong! Its just 50-60 km from here to our hotel!", we discussed.

Manali jammed!

The rest of the journey to Manali was horrifying, to say the least. A thick cloud engulfed the Rohtang Pass. That apart, nature went for a toss! There were vehicles. crowds, jammed roads, huge road congestion. It took us another 5 hours and more to cover from 60 KM. The sound and noise pollution made us aware of the fact that we have reached the "modern earth" and it was truly heaven in the morning at Chandrataal Lake. My childhood good old memories of Manali vanished with the smoke of the hundred of tourist cars.
When we went to Manali decades back, I saw "Hotel Beas". I always wanted to stay in there the next time we come here. The area has changed completely, with a lot of hotels around and the river Beas barricaded by wired mess, but that night sleeping in "Hotel Beas" was a peaceful one.

Day 9 (Manali - Solang valley - Kullu - Swarghat: 290 KM) 4th October, Saturday

Manali - an aging queen

Its like eating Chana Batura after a hearty meal of Lucknow Chicken Biriyani and Peshwari Kabab. You know Chana Batura is good, but on another day. There were glimpses of the natural beauty of Manali, but mainly eclipsed by the commercialization that took over it.  Like Shimla, if you are in seach of Himalayas and Nature, Manali can be a stepping stone to the road ahead.

Solang Valley - Nature commercialized

When in Rome, be like the Romans. In commerialised Manali, its best to enoy the place when Nature and tourist spots meet. So we went to the Solang Valley where we enjoyed the Gondola ride. My daughter enjoyed a lot. I had plans to go for paragliding, but lack of time didn't permit.

Kullu Shawls

On the way we stopped at a shawl factory. We bought some woolen garments for all. My father wanted a pashmina shawl. So, I bought an expensive one for him. I called him to say that he had not worn a shawl of such high quality ever in his life and he would love my gift when he is in Bangalore in first week of November. He never got a chance to wear that. He died in October end. But I am sure he has better things to enjoy now that he is free from the earthly sorrow and sufferings and no more seeks wordly pleasures. May his soul rest in peace!

Through the highway amidst smooth and pothole-infested roads we reached Swarghat, our destination for the day.

Day 10: (Swarghat - Chandigarh - Bangalore: 100 KM) 5th October, Sunday

The drive from Swarghat to Chandigarh was on a highway. Reached the airport well before time. It was Sunday. Last Sunday we were going to Rakcham. A week passed by so fast and so many things happened. The flight with stop over at Mumbai had surprise for us. Though we booked in Jet Lite, we were given meals in both the flights. Though they say there is nothing called a free meal, at least this one day we were served meal, not included in the ticket. So, we can call it a "free meal".

Looking back

The journey was worth every inch and every moment. It was a master class in road trip through the Himalayas. It had the worst of the roads, but surely thats one of the reason the place still has maintained its virginity. We had body aches and pains in the legs. But today all I can recollect are those wonderful memories of gushing wind, murmuring brooks. milky waterfalls, changing colours of the leaves, endless roads, snow capped peaks, raw and rustic mountain ranges, lonely monasteries, clear blue sky, vast stretches of silence..the list is endless. 1333 photos are too just little to portray all that we saw, felt and heard in those 10 days. And this blog is only an attempt to what can be expected in that part of the world. It can never be close to the actual experience. The actual experience is a thousand times heavenly than all the photos and blogs put together.
It is, indeed, the journey of a lifetime.
You dont believe me? Then hit the road on one such morning. I bet, you will come back never agreeing more with me. You will fall in love with the Himalayas and you will discover India. But the best part is,in the whole journey, you will discover yourself !!!

Hotel in Tabo: Tow Dey Hotel
Hotel in Kaza: Hotel Deyzor
Hotel in Losar: Nomad Cottage
Hotel in Manali: Hotel Beas
Hotel in Swarghat: HPDC Hotel
Total KM covered (apart from flight & train): 95 KM by Toy Train & approx. 1400 KM by Car.

Day 2	65 KM
Day 3	210 KM
Day 4	100 KM
Day 5	220 KM
Day 6	90 KM
Day 7	120 KM
Day 8	180 KM
Day 9	290 KM
Day 10	100 KM

Part I: Kinnaur leg of The Himalayan Tribal Circuit - A journey of a lifetime

Day 1: (Bangalore-Delhi-Kalka) Friday, 26th Sept, 2014

The Initial hiccup

Our flight was scheduled to depart at 7:25 in the morning. We started in the wee hours of the day, when the city of Bangalore was still asleep. And perhaps, even I was not fully awake! So, my decision to be behind the wheels was the worst decision I made in the entire journey. Thank GOD the decisions that I made during rest of the journey were much wiser. I drove my car through a narrow divider, brought it to a screeching halt, damaged its already old gear box - all before we boarded the flight to Delhi! It was truly a hiccup before the journey had begun.

The Delhi Stopover

Nothing much to say about it. Staying in Bangalore  made us inept at coping with the hot and humid climates. So, in Delhi we stayed mostly in the hotel room. A good amount of my time was spent in making sure the car reached the mechanic and was looked after well. We stayed at the New Delhi Railway station retiring room. The road from there to the Old Delhi railway station was through a very crowded part of the city. Wholesellers thronged the area. There were cars and bullock carts, cows and men, all sharing the same road. A typical image which foreigners like to click and portray  as part of their "Discovering India" - the chaos, the madness, the honks and the filth! Our taxi driver showed apprehension in reaching the station in time. But we did manage to reach the station in time, albeit after a lot of huffing and puffing through those crowded roads. When we finally stepped into the AC compartment of the train it was all quite around. However, inside me the excitement was slowly building. The initial trauma post my acrobatic skill with the old Wagon R had taken the back seat. Months of research, reading blogs of other tourists, going through reviews of the different hotels and meticulous planning. Time has come for all these to be tested in the next 10 days.

Day 2: (Kalka-Shimla-Narkanda) Sarurday, 27th Sept, 2014

The Joy ride in the Toy Train. 95 KM

From around 4 AM the passengers in the train were showing signs of impatience. Lights in the coups were switched on. Sounds of people pulling out their luggage from beneath the seats were being heard. The train reached Kalka at 4:30 AM. It was still dark. All the passengers from the train poured into the station, People with sleepy eyes and uncombed hair were aplenty. They had bags and baggages of different colours, shapes and sizes.

We headed towards the Toy train that stood on another platform. Within minutes the empty toy train was filled with people. Photos were being clicked with the red train in the background. I bought some cakes and biscuits from the railway hawker. The train started at 5:30 AM. It was still dark then. And then faint light began to appear from behind the distant dark mountains. Each compartment accommodated around 20 people. Breakfast was served as the train whistled through the 100+ tunnels. When the train entered the longer tunnels the passengers made a howling sound. A couple of times the train stopped at some small stations on the way. My daughter enjoyed the ride thoroughly. I thoughts she would get bored, but she did not. We got off at the scheduled and unscheduled stoppages. Clicked photos as the train halted for a few minutes. The station master would wave the green flag and the train would start again - through the tunnels and over the bridges.

Shimla - changing with times.

Around 10 AM as the train entered Simla, we could see the hill station and her houses cradled on the mountain slope. I called my driver to confirm his arrival. His response was not pleasing to my ears. He has sent another one instead. Thats not what I expected, but these things are common.

We had booked the Simla retiring room to get refreshed. In the meantime, I tried to contact other drivers to see if I can get a replacement, but did not find any one willing to take that route through Kinnaur and Spiti. On the hindsight, its good that I did not find any. Because the driver we had (Rajesh-ji, +91 981 733 0162) was one of the finest I had come across. Later we learnt that he drove trucks across India for a decade and then also bus in the Spiti and Kinnaur region. And , believe me, that requires tremendous control on the beast and he impressed us with his skills several times during the journey.

"Bang Bang" shooting spot

Quickly, we went to the famed Mall of Simla. It was a coincidence that we were watching 3 Idiots on the night previous of our travel. Simla Mall was shown in the movie. So, here we were standing at the same place. In fact, that day a movie was shot at the same place. Had our lunch at the HP Tourism hotel situated right in the centre of the mall. Later when we saw the movie "Bang Bang" we saw sequences shot there and across Simla.



This was my third visit to Simla. Once as a child, with parents around October. The second time alone when I was on an official trip to Delhi and I squeezed Simla in a weekend in January end. And here I was at Simla again. This time I did not have high hopes about the city. I did not expect to enjoy nature and the Himalayas from the city. It was a city that has grown and developed with time and nothing wrong with it. It has commercialized, which is only natural.  Instead of natural apple juice, it has packed and canned bottles of apple juice. The artificiality of the city has got the better of the natural beauty. It has made the lives of the people on the hill station, who stay here permanently, a lot more easier with easy access to ATMs and internet. For the general tourists the opening of pizza and  coffee counters and innumerable hotels have also made the life easier. Its only for Nature lovers like us, who would prefer Simla to be a stop-over and the first rung of the ladder for scaling greater heights.

And Off we hit the road (Shimla - Narkanda: 65 KM): 

Towards Narkanda

Our stay at Simla did not last beyond till 2:30 PM. And that was planned, At 2:30 we hit the road for Narkanda. 65 km from Simla lies the quiet town of Narkanda. People who visit Simla at most visit Narkanda. Very similar to Kalatop, near Dalhousie, which we went on May, 2013. Pine trees, a lonely walk through the forest, no sound of any vehicle, no pollution. Hotel Hatu peak of Himachal tourism is the place to stay. When we reached there around 5 PM, the sun has just started to bid us goodbye. Golden rays of the departing sun bounced off the fluffy clouds. It is one of those moments in life when you find sadness in beauty, loneliness amidst people. In our daily metro life in Bangalore, we hardly notice the slow ending of a day. In places like these, you realise that indeed a day in your life has gone, never to return again. You think of your childhood, your school days, your grandparents and you know they are lost in time.  Some moments about an old school cricket match or a word from your school teacher or another travel to the Himalayas with parents long ago flash in

From Hotel Hatu peak, Narkanda

front of your eyes. You know that the time has passed by and is passing by. You know even the moment in Narkanda will no sooner be lost in time. And , you feel, we are mere puppets who can't do anything about it. We are mere spectators in this enormous universe.
The night was chilling. And this was just the beginning.

Day 3: (Narkanda - Rakcham: 210 KM.) Sunday, 28th Sept, 2014

Getting closer to nature. Knowing Kinnaur

Kinnaur Dev Bhoomi, as it is called, is famous for the natural beauty. And as we left Narkanda, it took no time for us to understand that. The surroundings began to change as there were lesser villages and thinner population. We became mesmerized by the beauty around. At one time we crossed the famous place where the mountain had been "drilled" to make way for the road. We entered the

Kinnaur Dev Bhoomi.

That day I made a mistake about calculating the distance. I dont know how I thought it was a 120 KM journey, when actually it was 180 KM. A distance of 60 KM in those roads mean a difference of 2.5 hours. And I did not double check with driver Rajesh-ji. I realised that around 1 PM but there was no restaurant around at that time. We did not stop at any restaurant or road-side dhaba before. So now we had to stay content with the cakes, bananas and chips we were carrying. For me it was okay. But for my daughter and wife I wished I had done my calculation better.

Starting of horrible roads and awesome beauty

We reached the hydel power project at Bapsa Valley at around 2 PM. Another 1-1.5 hours is what we were counting. We were about to take the usual road, when we found because of maintenance work going on a 2-km stretch of the road, we should take an alternative road for around 25 km! And the road we took as diversion was just the beginning of what was to follow in the coming days. It was more of a trail through the mountains. A single road, where bus and trucks are common. This is the

only road that connects this part of the world upto Simla and beyond. Rajesh-ji showed his expertise in dealing with the trucks and oil tankers coming from the opposite road. I clearly remember that at one bend we found a huge truck coming towards us. Rajesh-ji reversed the car for about half a kilometer and parked the car on the edge of the road, with one of its wheel being supported on a temporary make-shift stack of stones. Once the truck went and we were driving again, he explained the risk that was involved and the fragility of the temporary structure. The road took a toll on my wife and daughter. And I dont blame them. We have started at 9 in the morning and after seven hours of journey through bad roads, we still had an hour more to find a place to rest.
At one point Rajesh-ji pointed and said, "Last July, this is where the bus fell down after hitting the car. The brothers in the car died and so did all the passengers of the bus!". Needless to say, it was a piece of information which did not enthrall us then. It like you go to buy a house and the owner says, this is the room where my wife committed suicide!
We reached Rakchham at around 4:30 PM. Rupin River View was the best located hotel in the region. Thats what the reviews in Tripadvisor said. So, I had booked that. There were a few other hotels in Rakchham, but this had the best view. We were hungry and tired. The restaurant provided the best view I had ever seen from any other restaurant. The entire Sangla valley laid in front of my eyes. It was evening and clouds shrouded the mountain peaks. The Baspa (Rupin?) river flowed below the restaurant. Smoking hot chicken pakoras, maggi and hot cup of chocolate was the perfect recipe to fill our hunger. As for the tiredness, they all vanished when we started sipping that hot cup of chocolate and looked outside. I have no words to express the beauty that lay before me.

As expected, the nights became colder. The blankets grew thicker. And the vehicles parked outside the hotels became less. We are getting into the regions less explored, roads less traveled.

Day 4: (Rakcham-Chitkul-Kalpa: 100 KM) Monday, 29th Sept, 2014

The morning shiver

This was the only time I was not pleased with Rajesh-ji. He did not take precaution the previous cold night. So, when I called him in the morning, he was shivering and said he needs a couple of hours to get warmth. Couple of hours was fine since travel was comparatively less on that day. But I feared that he should not catch cold and fever as that would ruin out entire trip and months of planning. Fortunately for us, he was up and running after a couple of hours. I gave him my coat to keep him warm, especially at night, when things can turn nasty.

The Hidden Beauty, called Chitkul.

When I was planning this trip, the name of the town caught my attention, I dont know for what reason. Any person who went to visit this small village, the last Indian village before the Tibet border, came back spell-bound. And I kept wondering what can be so special about the place. We started at around 10 AM for Chitkul, which was around 20 km further into the Sangla Valley, After a couple of kilometers, I felt I was entering Alice's wonderland or some place mentioned in the English

fairly tales. The soft morning sun washed the valley. Herds of sheep grazed on the soft green grass. Brooks flowed with murmuring sound. A small bridge and a gushing waterfall, the changing colours of the leaves of the distant pine trees and the narrow road finding its way through the mountain ranges. Are you serious these places exist on earth? People go to Switzerland and compare whatever mountainous beauty to Switzerland. Though I haven't been to that country, I do feel that its unfair to put that Alpine beauty at a higher pedestal and relieve it of being compared with any other beauty on earth. Himalayas cradles the highest peaks of the world. This mountain range has a vast spectrum of landscape from green valleys to arid cold deserts. Places like Chitkul were inaccessible to the general population till a few years/decades back. Reasons can be varied from inaccessible roads to inadequate transport system. But things have changed over the years. India's growth story have ensured that the remote villages have mobile and road connectivity. Tourism has gained a lot of momentum over the
last few years. So, its high time to rise above the prejudice and compare places based on the merit and beauty and not the country they belong to.

A walk through the small and peaceful village on a sunny chilled morning was memorable. The colours of the leaves of the trees on the mountain slopes have started changing. Some were green, some yellow, some reddish. The distant peaks had dollops of snow on them. A few hotels have cropped up here and there. A few more are under construction, a sure sign that this place is gaining importance and popularity among the tourists. Some vehicles were parked on the road side. We had a heavy breakfast in out hotel. So, we did not eat anything. Our driver needed a cup of hot tea to keep himself warm. He was already feeling better, much to our relief.
We could have stayed at Chitkul for days. The Master Painter had drawn such a splendid landscape on the huge canvas that its difficult to take our eyes off it. But it is the inability of a human being to express oneself that poses the greatest hurdle to depict the image. One, each person has a limited vocabulary. Two, each language has a limited number of words. I give up describing the beauty. And I am fully aware that this blog involving the tribal circuit will put me in such spots a couple of more times.

Chitkul

In search of apples

We reached Kalpa in the afternoon, around 3 PM. Right in front of our room, lay a vast range of snow covered peaks. It was quite cold. From those mountain peaks, a chilling breeze swept across the balcony in front of our room. We were a bit late for lunch. But, hungry as we were, we ordered some hot and tasty dishes. I was still searching for apples. Kinnaur apples, I heard, is among the best in world. And being in Kalpa, the heart of Kinnaur, what better than to search some apple vendors around. The best thing about Rajesh-ji is he never ever said "no" to any destination. Sometimes I felt hesitated to approach him, considering the long tiring drives he has been through. So, when I popped him the idea of exploring the nearby village of Roghi, about 10 km from Kalpa, he agreed. My wife and daughter excused themselves and it was understandable.
Roghi is a small village, with a few houses. But the scariest part is the journey to the village from Kalpa. Hardly 10 km. and it took my breath away. I just prayed to GOD to take me safe there and bring me back safe. Both the sides had steep mountain cliffs, the difference was, one was straight up towards heaven and the other down , perhaps towards hell, with zero slope. As if, a road has been
curved out of a steep mountain. A narrow road. Really narrow!
On the way we found a truck being loaded with apple crates. We coaxed them a lot, but they did not oblige us. So we headed further, where apples were being plucked from the trees and boxes and crates were being filled. These people agreed. It was slowly getting dark. The last thing I wanted was to return on the same scary road in total darkness.

The scariest road - towards Roghi

Now when I look back at that evening, the effort was worth it. Our familiarity with our surroundings give us that extra confidence about it. That road was scary to me because its not what I am familiar with. But ask the villagers there. To them, its normal; its part of their daily life. Bus travels on those roads and I have seen parents with infants waiting to board on those buses. But to me, it is still the scariest road I have traveled through. Once you are off it, you become untraceable.

Kalpa, for tourists, is the heart as well as the last stopover in the green Kinnaur district. You have golden apples and green valleys, sheep and shepards here. Next day would be our journey to Tabo, which marks the beginning of the dry and arid cold desert of the Spiti Valley.  Next day we would see the transition from greenery to arid lands, from a warm and cosy land to barren and harsh landscape.
Next day would be tough, we knew it. But how much tough, we did not know. 220 km. is a number, unless you are traveling on "world's most treacherous road".

Some travel tips:

Drivers: Venkyl - +91 9459 262 520 (though he did not come at the last moment, he remained           courteous all throughout)
Rajesh - +91 9817 330 162 (our driver, great control on the car, but not a regular in spiti region)

Hotel in Narkanda: Hotel Hatu Peak of HPTDC. Online booking from their portal. Great location.
Hotel in Rakcham: Rupin River View. Travel portal or call them directly to book. Great location.
Hotel in Kalpa: Hotel Apple Pie: Travel portal or call them directly to book. Great location   hospitality.

Photo taken from the restaurant of Rupin River View

Its your life

Last night my wife and myself were having a casual chat. On being asked what I would like my daughter to be and how I would handle her when she grows up, my answer was straight from my heart,

"Co-incidentally, fortunately or unfortunately, by default, I am your father and you are my daughter. But that does not give me the right to take control of your life. Its your life. GOD has given a life to everybody. I have mine, which I try to make the most of. HE has given one to you - its GOD's gift to you.

"You decide how you will take care of the gift. So that one day when you look back, you should not repent, feeling you have wasted the opportunity.

"After all, at the end of the day, you should take decision of and control on your life. One day you have to learn how to survive alone in this world. You should be able to find happiness for yourself. And I dont know which path will bring you that. There is no singular way to achieve this. Do it the way you think brings you the pleasure. Follow your heart. Dont ignore your brain. Dont think what others will be thinking about you. Believe me, thats a complete waste of time and energy.

"Above all, Be honest with yourself. Be truthful to soul. You can fool everyone in the world, but not yourself.

"Remember, Its YOUR life...live it like you always wanted to!"

Golden Cage for our Children

Life is not a bed of roses; the world is not a fairyland! We all know that. We have fought the tough times, battled the hardships...the struggle continues. Every single day. This is not only true for humans, but everyone in the animal kingdom. The King of the jungle, the Lions of Africa, have to hunt preys and walk upto the waterbody till the last day of their life. Others in the animal kingdom follow no different rule. The buffaloes, the crocodiles,the eagles, the deer, the rabbits, the rats, the ants...you name it - its always the story of fighting against all odds to live another day on this earth. In short, every single moment of life, be it of humans or otherwise, involves the struggle for existence and survival of the fittest! It is natural.

And yet, when it comes to raising our children, whom we love and care more than any other person in the world, we make the gross mistake by tending to keep them in golden cages. The golden cage that we build around them is nothing but a make-believe world which makes them devoid of any skills on how to tackle the real problems in life.We try to keep them away from all the pains and sorrows of life. We provide them with the best of facilities within our limits. We give them an impression that life and world have all the good things one can possibly think of. And we have a simple answer to this "We dont want the kids to go through the hardships we have gone through". While it is natural for parents to pass on the fruits of hardship to their offsprings, it is even more important for them to introduce them to the real world and the true facts of life and make them aware of those hardships. Falling down can be painful. But thats that's the only way one can learn to walk, to run, to cycle...One day that walk, that run, that cycling will bring abundance of joy to the children. By not exposing our children to the harsh conditions, we are making them handicapped. We are giving them silver spoons, but not teaching them how to use them to eat food from the plate, leave alone finding food for themselves. Imagine a tiger who always hunted preys for her cubs, fed them and did not teach them on how to hunt one. When the cubs grow into tigers, will they be able to survive in wild wild jungle for long? I presume one day they will blame their mother for not teaching them the fundamentals of survival. While this passing of batons and teaching the tricks of the trade come so natuaral to animals, we humans often take a more soft route. We keep protecting them, until we dont have any other option but to set them free. But, alas! That might be too late! The rude shock of getting to the know the hard realities beyond the golden cage can be dreadful.

There is a climber plant that my wife planted in one corner of our garden a couple of years back. When it was very small, she put a small stick beside it and tied the climber to it.Soon the climber "grabbed" the support and started growing. Now it does not need the support of the stick. It has clung to the wall of our home and there is no stopping to the growth. White flowers blooming amidst the green leaves have added to the beauty of our home. I feel parents should be like the support to the climbers. It would guide the climber to the right direction. After all, at the end of the day, the climber should live all by itself. Let the children enjoy the free air and explore life and world in their own way, not always bounded by the rules and regulations. A fall here and a fall there will make the journey more fun. A golden cage will definitely not. Parents can be the safety-nets. They definitely cannot be the fence around the plants. You can build fence around small plants. But what happens when it grows to a tree? You cannot build a fence around the entire tree!


Sometimes by bestowing excessive love for our kids, we are actually doing more harm than good. Animals teach their offsprings on how to hunt from a very small age. Tigers encourage their cubs to chase the weakest deer and hunt on their own. We humans are far more protective than the other members in the animal kingdom. We hesitate to expose them to the unkind world, delay the process, when the truth is, sooner or later they will find out the reality. True, we should protect them from vulnerable situations, but not shield from that. When its raining heavily we can ask them to take shelter, but no harm in getting occasionally drenched in the drizzle. That way they can test the waters and not be caught unawares when the sea is rough, dark clouds hover overhead and its pouring. They should know when to bring out the raincoat or umbrella and when to run for shelter. They also should know, sunny days and rainy days go hand-in-hand.

One of my favourite lines is "Only the test of fire makes fine steel" by Abraham Lincoln. There is no point in shielding our children from the fire.Instead, we should teach them on how to handle it and make the most out of it.
Doesn't the same apply to the world and life, as well?

The human divide

There is a difference between "I am proud to be an Indian" and "I am fanatic about India". The same applies to religion, caste, creed, colour....even gender! While the feeling of pride, gives one a self esteem and an identity, the fanatic aspect creates rift and hatred among humans. The fanatic aspect is the cause of innumerable blood sheds and heart wrenching incidents. My blog is about the fanatic aspect. I will try to be politically correct. But then its difficult to train your thoughts to be always be so. Isn't it?

A great divide is the gender divide. Almost all communities and societies across the globe share this problem, whether we accept or not, whether we like it or not. We talk of empowering women. In the first place who are "we" to empower women? The male fraternity? I thought women should have been, by default, empowered. First we suppress them, oppress them and then we talk of women empowerment! And show how noble we are. If each year one day is celebrated as "Women's Day", does that mean that the rest 364 days are NOT "Women's Day" and belong to the other gender? Do we actually have to have a day to remember Women. Really?

Then comes the delicate topic of racism - black and white. Wars have been fought since ages. Just a difference in skin colour resulted in so much blood sheds. While we count the number of deaths and number injured, we never count the number of hearts that were broken, the hatred that spread far and wide. Why does someone have to be good or bad based on their skin colour? Do our feelings for others have to be only skin-deep? Generations after generations and we only passed the rotten baggage of thoughts to our offsprings. Thousands of writers, tons of papers, centuries of discussion...and yet the divide remains.The divide is deep rooted. Until the feelings comes from within,not from one or two persons but from each and every person of the society, the discussions are unlikely to yield anything to be proud of .

And what about religion? "I am a Hindu...you are a Muslim; I am a Christian...you are a Jew". For GOD's sake, can we stop this divide based on the GOD we worship? No religious leader ever said to fight. They all preached peace - peace with fellow human beings, peace within. Religion is a set of principles and virtues that one can , rather should, follow to get closer to GOD. It is between the individual and the Almighty. Where is the place of hatred and killing here? In the name of religion if one kills another human being, will GOD be happy? The heat of hatred can scorch the humanity one day to extinction.Its an irony that God created humans and then humans kill fellow beings in the name of God!

Caste is a very much man-made concept developed some thousands of years ago...and we still hold on to it! We exploit others, torture others in the name of caste. Low caste people die of thirst and yet they are not allowed to get water from the nearby areas of the so-called upper caste people. In the recent Indian parliamentary election the politicians are openly flaunting their caste, asking people to vote based on caste, putting candidates based on caste. Nobody is talking of the "Indian" that we all are.

We all are proud of our respective countries. But wars in the name of country is definitely not acceptable. India and Pakistan have been engaged in proxy war across the border. The Israelis and the Palestines have been fighting. There are wars in different pockets in Africa. There are cold wars between super powers. We have seen two devastating world wars. Did we gain anything by killing those thousands of innocent men, women and children? After how many more casualties shall we say "enough is enough"?

Is it too demanding to ask for a society devoid of male chauvinism? A society which accepts all, irrespective of the colour of the skin of its members, the religion they follow, the caste they belong to or their citizenship?
Some years ago, when the concept of "No-refusal autos" was introduced in Bangalore, people said "That means you accept that autos do refuse to take passengers, something which is against the law". Similarly, when you talk of "empowering women" and "Women's Day", you accept that they are not given equal status in the society. When you talk of "giving equal rights to the black", you acknowledge that they are deprived of their rights. What were you doing so long? By calling Muslims "minorities" in India, are we not distancing them from the "majority" and thus creating a fissure in our motherland?
In the whole process, we have cut the society into a hundred pieces, killed thousands, injured millions and hurt innumerable fellow beings for centuries. We have shown the least respect to the other section of the society. Will humanity be ever forgiven for such heinous crimes?
We call ourselves "civilised". Its time we walk the talk!

Beautiful journies lost in racing tracks

We are programmed to try our best to win in every sphere, wherever we compete, wherever we participate. As a child it starts from a very early stage. The instinct is given its tooth and claw in school days. After that there is no letting it up. From the urge to win, generates another intuitive feeling - the urge to compare. "Where do I stand vis-a-vis others in the field?". And from comparison comes jealousy and jealousy leads to mental unrest...Life becomes a bag of baggage! Our life is no longer determined and controlled by our wishes and desires, but by the urge to "overtake" others. Our happiness is not measured in any absolute scale, but relative to the happiness of friends, neighbours and relatives. Lets take a step back to analysis this social epidemic.

The instinct to win and beat others in the competition have been imbibed in humans, like many other things, when we used to live in caves and hunt animals for survival. The limited supply of food and other resources then were the primary driving factors to instigate us to win each time, surpassing our fellow-members. In today's world, its not that resources are in abundance, but surely enough for all of us if managed properly. Kids and their parents think that becoming one of the toppers in the class means a great step ahead towards a bright future. Kids are taught how not to share their winning formulas with their classmates. They are groomed to win. Have we ever thought that thousands of schools running tons of classes and in that one class a topper is just better that , say, 40 or 50 students? Once the floodgates open and the students become adults and compete with adults across the geo-political boundaries what happens to them? Once they are out of their silos into the vast ocean, is winnability the only weapon that they have to stay afloat? In other words, is winnability the only virtue we have been able to teach them when they are in the race? More often than not, in the vast ocean, there is no one race. There are races - races for a better job, better salary, better villas, better lifestyle, better gadgets...the list is endless. Have we taught our kids how to react when they dont win? Have we taught them that it is simply not possible to win each time? Have we taught them to enjoy the race and not feel depressed if someone else takes the winning trophy? Have we taught them that winning is not everything? And then...who said that it was a race? All the students with whom I was "rat racing" in early school days have found a place for themselves in this vast world. We all will. Sadly, what we all lost is a stronger bonding and an even more memorable school days. The last thing that we needed in our lives in early childhood was that race, when it was just a part of the journey of growing up.

Everyone of us is on a journey that we can and should call "our own". Every journey has highs and lows. To compare my journey with yours, these days aptly supported by the feel-good Facebook photos and status, is nothing but foolishness. Nobody puts up a sad face in FB, people hardly update their FB status about problems they are facing in life. That doesn't mean the "happiness index" has shot through the roof in the last few years.
Following years of evolution and hard work we are at a place today where there is a place for everybody to live in harmony. But if we still think like the early men and keep comparing, we have just gone backwards a few thousand years or more. We should live our life the way it would have liked to live. If we change the course of our journey under the influence of others, then it would never be our journey, but a conglomeration of bits and pieces of several journeys. It would be a collage of journeys of friends, relatives and neighbors, except ours. And, at the end of your life, you would realise, everybody had a journey, only you didn't have! All the years you monitored and aped others journey and in the whole process, failed to give your journey a thought, a shape and , above all, a life!
Put in different words, you would realise your life never got a shape, never been given an independent thought and ,above all, was never a journey. You ran all your life and never took notice of the beautiful surroundings, the forests that passed by, the snow-capped distant hills, the sunset behind the tall trees, the moonlit nights....You just ran, thinking the fellow-runners are your competitors, never realising they were there to provide you the company.You just ran, thinking it to be a racing track, never realising, it is the greatest journey, that each and every one of us is gifted with!

Sikkim - A Journey without Destination

Too tempting a place

Among all other places on earth, Lonely Planet named this place as "must visit" in 2014. The place was , anyway, in my radar for the last couple of months. And it is near to my native. You may call these excuses, you may call these "the call of the wild". Whatever it is, the very thought of visiting Sikkim around New Year

time was exciting. My wife dropped off from the tour during the planning phase, citing excessive cold. At 14000 feet above sea level in Ganathang Valley of Sikkim, temperature has a free fall. Sandipan, my old college friend and companion for the trip, and I found it the hard way on the night we spent at Ganathang Valley.

30th December, 2013. Monday

Getting On

After a hearty lunch at Calcutta's famed "Peter Cat" and a movie at the "New Empire", I bid goodbye to wife and daughter, who would spend some more time at my in-laws place. I jumped in the taxi and was at the Sealdah station by 9 PM. I packed two packets of chicken biriyani from "Alishan". Sandipan had already reached the station. Sandipan, my dear friend, from my engineering days. Now, a professor in Nano Electronics in the University of Alberta, Canada. Always reserved, quiet and introvert. When I heard that he was coming to Calcutta during the winters, I asked him whether he would be willing to join me to the Himalayas. He almost immediately agreed. And so, on the night of 30th December, we were waiting at the Sealdah station for the Darjeeling Mail.

31st December, 2013. Tuesday

On the way to Sillery Gaon

We got off at the NJP (New Jalpaiguri) railway station at around 8 AM. The train was late due to fog.. In no time we were comfortably seated in a SUV and zooming towards Sillery Gaon. Sillery Gaon is a hamlet in West Bengal. There are hardly 50 families in that village. The village has gained popularity in recent years,

thanks to the magnificent view of the Kanchenjungha peak from the hamlet. On the way, we stopped by at Pedong to grab a late breakfast. A perfect blend of  typical Sikkimese hot momos (dimsum) with a cup of aromatic Darjeeling tea were waiting for us. It was the last day of the year. There were picnics at some places. Just opposite to where we were having breakfast, army men played cricket as sound boxes blared Bollywood songs. From Pedong it took us another hour or so to reach Sillery Gaon.

The beautiful hamlet called Sillery Gaon

Beautiful little hamlet, carefully crafted on the mountain side. It is the type of mountainous villages that you read in fairy tales. There was no sound of cars or traffic. You see people doing their bit of activities, getting along with their daily life. Sometimes a mother calls for her son or the wife shouts for her husband. This place seemed so much detached from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. I could hear my breath, my heart

beat. There was peace and serenity around. Add to that vast stretches of green pine trees and the vast clear blue sky above. We checked in to our lodge. There were not many people in the lodge. It was already 2 PM. We went to the dinning room and were served steamed rice, hot daal and egg curry. The tap water was freezing cold. From the dinning table we could see the majestic Kanchenjungha was turning yellowish, the first sign of the day coming to an end. And since it was the last day of year, so, in a way, those rays of the sun on the peak of Kanchenjungha were the last rays of the sun for the year. Quite a distant below from our lodge was a flat area, where children played cricket. Sometimes we could hear them. No sooner would the sound get lost among the mountains. The cold breeze that blew through the leaves made that hissing sound.  Sandipan and I took a stroll around our lodge. There was just one main road, and that too not a proper one. We followed that, not knowing where it will lead us to. Quite like our college days, wherein we got admission to the college, the course and had no clue where it will take us and where lies the destination!

Sun sets on the fairy-tale hamlet

Kanchenjungha peak turned crimson. The sight of the changing colours of the Kanchenjungha is inexplicable.
The silence of the woods added to the effect. It seemed there is no one between me and the moment. You forget the world that is beyond the moment. You want the time to freeze and yet you want the time to move on so that you can see the changing colours. As the yellow turns orange and then red you realise that the

errie silence and the darkness is soon going to engulf you. In this part of the Himalayas, where you are almost cut-off from the rest of the world, the darkness brings with it some sort of unknown fear or, perhaps, fear of the unknown. In the quiet hamlet, evenings are quieter. I looked above. The countless twinkling stars and the crescent silver moon seemed nearer to me. In Bangalore I hardly take a note of them. Being close to nature soothes you, calms you. When the whole world outside was rejoicing the new year eve with bottles of champagne and wine, I cherished the sound of silence, the light in the darkness...I cherished the moment of solitude and loneliness, added to that was the bone-chilling cold. It was truly a  cold and lonely night.
Somewhere deep down, I felt afraid that night. We are so used to the bright halogen lights, the honking of the automobiles, the sight of concrete jungles, that their absence make us feel out of place and uncomfortable.

1st January, 2014., Wednesday

Kanchenjungha on fire!

The morning of first January started with a wake up call from Sandipan. I had under-estimated the chillness of Sillery Gaon the previous night. Suddenly at mid night I woke up, shivering.I tried to ignore the cold, but what a futile effort that was! Ultimately I had to dive into my luggage again and scramble out some more woolen clothes, put them on....and all when I was half asleep. Sandipan called me to look at the

Kanchenjungha. I saw the same spectacle from Tiger Hills, Darjeeling, about a year back. And yet this sight is tempting to resist. Most of the tourism in North Bengal and Sikkim is centred around the Kanchenjungha peak. During childhood, I wondered what was so special about the peak. Now I now why the people there worship the peak and consider her Goddess. The sight was divine, out of the world. Sights that are almost impossible to put into words.

Through the clouds, towards the Gnathang Valley

Taking a bath in that cold winter morning was both a challenge and a nightmare. The bathroom singer in me was at his career best! Then we jumped into our SUV and were driving towards the Gnathang Valley. On the way we made the permit at Rangoli. Again momos and tea at Rangoli. Within hours we found ourselves in Zuluk and then driving along the famed Silk Route. When we stopped for a break in Zuluk, the driver

pointed up towards the mountain range behind and said "Gnathang Valley is up there...behind these mountains and above the clouds". The zig-zag road from Zuluk towards Gnathang Valley had a number of hair-pin bends. Only an expert driver can negotiate them with ease. We found ourselves driving through the clouds and no sooner we were above the clouds. The sight of the clouds below us is common when we are inside an airplane. But its not always that you are inside a car or even walking on

the road and yet the clouds are below you. We were 13000 feet above the sea level. Gnathang valley is located in the middle of nowhere, in a cold desert. This part is one of the least explored places in Sikkim, nay India. So, it is no wonder only a handful of lodges operate here. We had booked the historical "Dafter Bungalow", which was the tax collecting office when the Silk Route was in operation.
We reached there around lunch time. The dining hall had capacity of about 10 people. It was a kitchen-cum-dining hall or shall we say, an open kitchen adjacent to the dining hall. Sandipan and I were of the same opinion that the dishes in this part of the world tasted way better, although they had same vegetables that we use at home and minimum spice. Was it that the vegetables were really very fresh or is it the hunger pangs? An answer that is debatable.
Post lunch we were out for a short walk in the valley. The room was cold and we decided we get into the room only when we had no other option and that is when night would befall. The walk around the valley was lazy. Because of my asthma history I was specially careful not to overexert myself. I did not want to be a victim of AMS (Acute Mountaineering Syndrome). Local kids and youths were playing cricket on the flat

area. The backdrop had the brown mountains, peppered with snow. We kept our cameras busy. As the sun

slowly tilt, the temperature plunged. By six, it was pitch dark. A bone-chilling wind howled through the creeks of the window of our room. With each hour of the passing night, we kept on adding layers of warm clothes. The cold was irresistible. Sandipan, who has been living in Canada for the last few years, too acknowledged. As we gulped water our throats almost froze. There was a fireplace in the room. But again for my asthma problem, we decided not to go with it. The water pipes had frozen. That night was adventurous, to say the least. We did not know how much more will the temperature dip. My phone gave up. It was unable to restart. When I plugged in the charger, it gave a warning blink with a red thermometer. This is the first time I had seen any such indications in any phone. The whole night our sleep was disturbed quite a few number of times. Sometimes in acute thirst, sometimes in severe chillness. Dead silence prevailed in the valley, to be broken by the howling of the wind that pierced through the window creek. I have been carrying a portable heater all along. It was a big joke to even switch it on. It seemed like an effort to heat a tub of water using a single candle.

2nd January, 2014. Thursday

The darkest hour is before the dawn

This was one sentence Sandipan and I uttered quite frequently during our last few daunting engineering days. That day in Sikkim we once again realised the essence of those words.
The long and chilling night culminated to a beautiful morning. From our room we could see the change of colour of the snow on the mountain sides. The sky was crystal clear. It was such a perfect sunny winter morning. We were ready and raring to take on the next leg of our journey, which , I had presumed, would be the best part of the journey. People generally reach Gangtok, the capital and most famous city of Sikkim
from NJP railway station. From there they go to Changu Lake. Our destination for that day was Gangtok but from the direction of Changu Lake. However, I was more excited to visit the Kupup Lake, followed by the Tukla Valley and then our approach to Changu Lake. After breakfast we waited for our car to come. Our driver's house is in the Zuluk village, which is at a lower altitude and 30 km from Gnathang Valley. We had passed by that village the previous evening. We got a bit impatient waiting for him for about an hour. The hotel manager, through which we hired the car, informed that keeping the car at Gnathang Valley was difficult and expensive. The engine needed to be switched on all night, otherwise it would not start the following morning. It is for this reason that the car was parked in Zuluk overnight.

The prestine Kupup Lake and pictureseque Tukla Valley

Kupup Lake is one of the least explored lakes and so it has held on to its charm. Within an hour of starting from our lodge we reached the Baba Mandir. Standing in front of the Baba Mandir, I looked at the distant blue mountains and the white clouds. The altitude was really high. The air was cleaner and thinner. Some

army men had gathered to seek blessings of the Almighty. Our car started again. After some time it stopped by the roadside and the driver pointed towards the beautiful Kupup Lake below. Among the brown mountains like a mirror the lake lay. In olden days ladies would have beautifully decorated , primarily oval-shaped, handheld mirrors, with fine work on the edges of the mirror. Kupup Lake with its shape and the mountains on all sides reminded me of that. With a thin film of ice over it, the placid lake was reflecting not only the blue sky and the gigantic mountains, but also my inner thoughts of
my helplessness in front of this supremely gorgous and gigantic Nature.

As our car drove towards the Tukla Valley, there was snow on one side of the mountain wall while some lay scattered on the road. The first few spells of snow had left their marks. The area expected heavy snowfall in the coming days. I have been breathing Kanchejungha for the last few days and seen it from different angles and different places, ranging from Darjeeling to Rishyop to Silliery Gaon and the innumerable stopovers and view points along the road. But the view I got of the Kanchenjungha range from the Tukla Valley is the best that one can possibly get. Suddenly our car took a turn and behold! The entire Kanchenjungha range lay before our eyes. Speechless, I scrambled for words.

My camera captured the visual sight of the moment. Sadly, unlike the photos, I cannot freeze my emotions and my heartbeat in time. They are lost forever somewhere far away in the Tukla Valley.

Finally, towards the Changu Lake and Gangtok

Through some remote areas and dangerous roads, our car found its way to the famous Changu Lake. On the way we found boards put up by the Government of India "You are under Chinese Observation". We saw the

Chinese bunkers and Chinese soldiers patrolling their territories. The activities of the diligent Indian soldiers was quite visible on the roads. Army trucks and army personnel were perhaps the only vehicles and men we met on the way. We passed by the Nahula (Pass), where India shares her border with the neighbouring
country, Tibet. Changu Lake from one point in the road looked gorgous. I could see the clouds were still below the lake. It looked like a turquoise from a distance.
Changu Lake was hustling and bustling with activities. It was around 40 km from Gangtok. So, any tourist of Gangtok makes it a point to visit the lake. Locals pleaded with the tourists for yak ride. After spending an hour around the lake, we were off to Gangtok. On the way we stopped for some photo shoots, where the murmuring brook emerged from the snow-peppered mountain walls and pine trees

and then found its way through pebbles and boulders. The condition of the road was quite horrible. To add to that was the cloud that reduced the visibility to a few metres. At some point it started drizzling. Our lives lay in the hands of our trusted driver and the Almighty. A wrong turn or a skid would have been fatal, no doubt.

Reaching Gangtok

I had visited Gangtok with parents and 20 years back. I could not relate to that Gangtok to the one I found in January, 2014. We roamed in the MG Road of Gangtok. I was pleasantly surprised to find that its look and feel was similar to any European cities. After many days we were able to stay outdoors hours after sunset. I thought the temperature was moderate. That night again the bone-chilling cold came back to haunt us. Though it was not as severe as the one in Gnathang Valley. But we should not have under-estimated it, anyway.

3rd January. Friday.

All's well that ends well

Morning was foggy. Any chance of catching a glimpse of the Kanchenjungha one last time in that trip was shattered. The fog continued till around 11. We bought a couple of packets of tea, fresh from the gardens of Darjeeling and some souvenirs. Sandipan  spent a lot of time selecting some wall paintings. We knocked on different shops to get the exact one that he had in his mind. Around 12, we hopped into our car and back to the NJP railway station. The Teesta that had been with us in the initial few hours of our journey on day one,

reunited with us. We had lunch on a roadside dhaba. It was just beside the river Teesta. most of the people were so hungry and engrossed in their food that they hardly found time to appreciate the location of the eat-out. Or may be, they were in a hurry to either reach the mountains or the railway station. Often the thought of destination pre-occupies our mind so much that we fail to take notice of the journey.
This Sikkim trip did not have any destination, in particular. It was more about the journey. The journey that started at crowded Sealdah station on the night of 30th December. It was about the journey that we took through the tall trees of the Dooars to the thinly-populated Sillery Gaon. And waking up on the New Year morning to catch the out-of-the-world sight of the Kanchenjungha, which seemed to be on fire. Then through the zig-zag roads of the historic Silk Roue, off to Zuluk and the cold desert of the Gnathang Valley. Not to forget the night at Gnathang Valley, one of the coldest night we have ever spent. Waking up to a bright and clear day, zooming past the turquoise lakes,  the snow-peppered mountain walls, the murmuring brooks, the pine trees, the bumpy roads and the Kanchenjungha range. It was a journey where emotions varied from sheer joy to fear to elation to lonliness.
When I sit in my drawing and flip over the 500-odd photos that we took during those days, I still cant say what was the destination for this journey. Should a journey have a destination? Or is the name "destination" coined by mankind to give it a sense of ending, when , as a matter of fact, there is no ending at all to any journey? Like the spiralling mountain roads the thoughts gets lost unanswered.

Afterthoughts

Sandipan called me the other day. I asked him about the paintings he bought and how they look in his room. "They seem out-of-place here", he said. "Somehow I felt it was the best painting I could have got for my room, but here, I find that it doesn't fit".
"But that was so befitting! The old chinese man smoking the cigar was gorgeous", I replied.
"You are right. But you know what, Amitava, that painting looked so different in that setting. I wish I could show you how it is like a square peg in a round hole here!"
I realised how almost all our emotions and thoughts are guided and influenced by the world around us. And if those worlds are as poles apart as Nature and materialistic world, then we are in for a shock. I am quite sure the "inner Sandipan", which was aroused due to the proximity of Nature, chose the painting. When back in Canada and amidst the concrete jungles the "inner Sandipan" went into hibernation. His materialistic surroundings transformed him and he failed to appreciate the choice that his "inner self" took. He was at crossroads with his "inner self". That is why the paintings seemed so out of place when taken from Sikkim to Canada. The same way a small piece of rock from the Gnathang Valley or a plant from the Sillery Gaon would have been a misfit to my Bangalore environment.
But the thoughts of our Sikkim trip and the photos of the lakes and mountains have never tarnished, they haven't lost their fragrance. In fact they will grow with us and their memories will bring us smile and joy every single time we reminiscence them. When you are close to Nature you get a healing touch, which leaves permanent impressions on you. Carrying a painting or a piece of stone has more to do with carrying something materialistic, something you can hold and touch and feel with your senses, not the one who touches your mind and soul.  The materialistic objects bring joys which are temporary. A good electronic gadget, for example, tinkles the sensory organs. It does not touch the soul. It does not soothe the mind. The tinkling is short-lived. The healing touch is the divine touch. The healing touch cures the mind, body and soul. And once you get a taste of it, you yearn for more. Then the materialistic joys seem so meaningless. The nearer you are to Nature, the further we are from the materialistic world. In other words, the more addicted you are to the material world, the further you become from Nature and ,consequently, you are alienated from your own inner self.
Looking back, was it a mere coincidence that my phone, the epitome of today's communication to the outside world, gave up when I was closest to Nature at Gnathang Valley? Whatever may be the answer, that had definitely helped me plunge and soak myself more in the raw nature, enjoying every moment of it, without any disturbance from the "outside world". Ironically, in  the quest to communicate more with the outside world, we are hardly communicating with the vast world that is inside us.