I love movies, I swear by them and despite their
compelling make-believe world, cinema’s semblance to reality often leave an
impression on me. I was desperate to marry Arvind Swami (even as a minor, oblivious
of the repercussions of marriage, of course) and a chance to watch him on
screen was similar to travelling to moon and back. Like million other girls
across the world, my heart too skipped a few beats when Shahrukh waved his
hands at Kajol or Amir Khan crooned ‘Pehla Nasha’. So, no wonder when a suave
Ranveer Singh in Lootera mentioned witnessing
Chandrataal as Varun’s last wish, I hardly realised my fingers had started
moving on the phone’s keypad.
What I saw left me dumbstruck..!! The sight of a huge lake filled with crystal water reflecting the sky, surrounded by rugged mountains was alluring. At once, I felt drawn towards it, as if answering to its summons. The next few days I looked for the best travel options. What emerged was exhilarating to my husband, but is it really possible for an ‘obese’ like me to ‘trek’ all the way up to 14,000+ feet? He never told me whether it was askance or misery manifested on my face that prompted him (a certified rock climber and experienced trekker, mind you) to argue that trekking is definitely the best way.
And so the next obvious task was to scout for an affordable group. I was happy, for the first time I’m watching this commotion called ‘planning’ from a safe distance – I don’t know a single alphabet of trekking other than the names Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary, who conquered the Mount Everest in the 1950s. At the same time, I was worried of a damp squib as his trekking partner. I tried to convince him that travelling by car from Manali is a more feasible option for his better half, whom he is adamant to make walk for god knows how many days! All my persuasions fell to deaf ears, for he had already contacted some group and bookings had been ‘confirmed’ of sorts.
At that instance, all I felt was a wreathing pain and anxiety – what if I can’t walk for so many days, what if I lag behind other members, what if ‘this’, what if ‘that’ – the list was quite long. I’ve always been a sloth, more interested in story books than sports (once I participated in annual sports and in the preliminary rounds of 100 metres race I came ‘first, counting from last’). My BMI is a few decimals away from that ‘diabolic 30’ and I was struck by the mother of all nightmares – what if I die en route Chandrataal? “I’ll die virgin, for the best of popular mountains – Swiss Alps, Ladakh Himalayas, and many more, will be out of bounds forever. And in my next birth if I’m born as a tree in the Amazon rainforest or a snail in some sea, my hopes are irrevocably dashed.”
Gosh..!! That’s scary. Fortunately, I successfully permeated that fear into the more enthusiastic partner. For time being, the trek was cancelled only to be replaced by an easier one, touted as my ‘conditioning camp’.
That Dussera, we were all set for the ‘easier’ trek (suitable for beginners, as defined by most of the trekking companies) to Deoriataal and Chandrashila, touching Tungnath en route. A short trek of 3-4 days and a small, cozy team of 6 trekkers (excluding the guide and other members for cooking, logistics etc.), we drove from Haridwar for an excruciating 9 hours; the passengers were seemingly drugged, no one spoke to anyone because they’ve dozed off to negotiate the spiraling roads up.
The next day we started walking from Ukhimath, the winter seat of the Kedarnath deity. Our guide, Govind, was all charged up – we will not follow the established trail but rather create one for us, and so it might take us couple of hours more, he announced. The team was like “ye!”. “Doesn’t make any difference, it’s all the same,” I thought.
Had I known the adversities of ‘exploring a trail’, I would have certainly walked down the hills. The next half-a-day walk from Ukhimath to Deoriataal was on a gradient of 45 degree through small villages and jungle, and as expected my break for replenishment were more than metres I walked. While rest of the team was mostly in sync, I was absolutely off track. My legs ached badly, water was not able to treat my dry throat and apparently, all tried and tested formulae for first-timers proved futile. My husband and Govind shared the burden of my rucksack along with their own so that I could move myself. Poor Govind, running up and down the hills so no one is lost as the sun had started going down. And I felt that’s the end of it, I will watch Deoriataal from up there.
I was finally made to manage reaching Deoriataal before darkness fell, panting like a dog. The tents were set, the fire was lit, tea was being served, and sitting near the bonfire I thanked Govind for taking all the pain. I came first, again, according to my unique counting system. While the team took a little more than the stipulated 5 hours, I took a whopping 7 hours, but as Govind said, I didn’t give up despite everything going against me. Looking at the majestic Chaukhamba peak playing hide-n-seek on a well-lit night, I tried recalling the key takeaways of the day. Firstly, the amazing jungle – steep, luscious and full of unknown but interesting sounds. I’m no birdwatcher, or else could have introduced myself to those lovely little avian creatures. The nudging trees did not have their scientific names etched on the trunk, but Govind was prompt in pointing out which of those are helpful in case we get a bruise or cut.
I was thinking about the mythology of Deoriataal (Yaksha testing knowledge of Pandav brothers, no one except eldest Yudhisthir could pass and brought back his brothers to life) when just before the meadow, a sound of a helicopter startled me (how on earth someone knows I need to be rescued..!!). The copter was taking pilgrims to Kedarnath; Govind said, and I was pleasantly surprised to see myself standing at a greater height than the one at which the helicopter was flying!
The wonderful people I met ever since I left Haridwar were inspiring. Simple people, leading a life ‘tough’ by our city standards, but always have a smile on their face. The stewards at the lodge where we stayed overnight or the porters travelling with us now, all of them can give you serious life ‘goals’! If I ever contemplate suicide, I’ll surely trek to the Himalayas before committing one; people around you in those tiny hamlets have something really nice and infectious about them. Children with runny nose or old people with their wrinkled faces, each of them tell a story of human endurance and resilience.
What I saw left me dumbstruck..!! The sight of a huge lake filled with crystal water reflecting the sky, surrounded by rugged mountains was alluring. At once, I felt drawn towards it, as if answering to its summons. The next few days I looked for the best travel options. What emerged was exhilarating to my husband, but is it really possible for an ‘obese’ like me to ‘trek’ all the way up to 14,000+ feet? He never told me whether it was askance or misery manifested on my face that prompted him (a certified rock climber and experienced trekker, mind you) to argue that trekking is definitely the best way.
And so the next obvious task was to scout for an affordable group. I was happy, for the first time I’m watching this commotion called ‘planning’ from a safe distance – I don’t know a single alphabet of trekking other than the names Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary, who conquered the Mount Everest in the 1950s. At the same time, I was worried of a damp squib as his trekking partner. I tried to convince him that travelling by car from Manali is a more feasible option for his better half, whom he is adamant to make walk for god knows how many days! All my persuasions fell to deaf ears, for he had already contacted some group and bookings had been ‘confirmed’ of sorts.
At that instance, all I felt was a wreathing pain and anxiety – what if I can’t walk for so many days, what if I lag behind other members, what if ‘this’, what if ‘that’ – the list was quite long. I’ve always been a sloth, more interested in story books than sports (once I participated in annual sports and in the preliminary rounds of 100 metres race I came ‘first, counting from last’). My BMI is a few decimals away from that ‘diabolic 30’ and I was struck by the mother of all nightmares – what if I die en route Chandrataal? “I’ll die virgin, for the best of popular mountains – Swiss Alps, Ladakh Himalayas, and many more, will be out of bounds forever. And in my next birth if I’m born as a tree in the Amazon rainforest or a snail in some sea, my hopes are irrevocably dashed.”
Gosh..!! That’s scary. Fortunately, I successfully permeated that fear into the more enthusiastic partner. For time being, the trek was cancelled only to be replaced by an easier one, touted as my ‘conditioning camp’.
That Dussera, we were all set for the ‘easier’ trek (suitable for beginners, as defined by most of the trekking companies) to Deoriataal and Chandrashila, touching Tungnath en route. A short trek of 3-4 days and a small, cozy team of 6 trekkers (excluding the guide and other members for cooking, logistics etc.), we drove from Haridwar for an excruciating 9 hours; the passengers were seemingly drugged, no one spoke to anyone because they’ve dozed off to negotiate the spiraling roads up.
 |
| The night shelter at Kund |
The next day we started walking from Ukhimath, the winter seat of the Kedarnath deity. Our guide, Govind, was all charged up – we will not follow the established trail but rather create one for us, and so it might take us couple of hours more, he announced. The team was like “ye!”. “Doesn’t make any difference, it’s all the same,” I thought.
Had I known the adversities of ‘exploring a trail’, I would have certainly walked down the hills. The next half-a-day walk from Ukhimath to Deoriataal was on a gradient of 45 degree through small villages and jungle, and as expected my break for replenishment were more than metres I walked. While rest of the team was mostly in sync, I was absolutely off track. My legs ached badly, water was not able to treat my dry throat and apparently, all tried and tested formulae for first-timers proved futile. My husband and Govind shared the burden of my rucksack along with their own so that I could move myself. Poor Govind, running up and down the hills so no one is lost as the sun had started going down. And I felt that’s the end of it, I will watch Deoriataal from up there.
 |
| The first glimpse of Deoriataal |
I was finally made to manage reaching Deoriataal before darkness fell, panting like a dog. The tents were set, the fire was lit, tea was being served, and sitting near the bonfire I thanked Govind for taking all the pain. I came first, again, according to my unique counting system. While the team took a little more than the stipulated 5 hours, I took a whopping 7 hours, but as Govind said, I didn’t give up despite everything going against me. Looking at the majestic Chaukhamba peak playing hide-n-seek on a well-lit night, I tried recalling the key takeaways of the day. Firstly, the amazing jungle – steep, luscious and full of unknown but interesting sounds. I’m no birdwatcher, or else could have introduced myself to those lovely little avian creatures. The nudging trees did not have their scientific names etched on the trunk, but Govind was prompt in pointing out which of those are helpful in case we get a bruise or cut.
The wonderful people I met ever since I left Haridwar were inspiring. Simple people, leading a life ‘tough’ by our city standards, but always have a smile on their face. The stewards at the lodge where we stayed overnight or the porters travelling with us now, all of them can give you serious life ‘goals’! If I ever contemplate suicide, I’ll surely trek to the Himalayas before committing one; people around you in those tiny hamlets have something really nice and infectious about them. Children with runny nose or old people with their wrinkled faces, each of them tell a story of human endurance and resilience.
 |
| Little replica of Kedarnath Temple at Sari village |
(To be continued...)
Bravo Thasu! The trick is not to give up, a little at a time and then when you start next day you will have known the trail, fall in love with it. I am certain your weariness was dispelled each time you stopped to look around and filled your lungs and soul. To trek is to live, to live is to live the mountains. You always have to come back, no point in counting up the years if you are not living.
ReplyDeleteVery proud of you, Bravo Thasu!
Kind words! Thank you, keep reading.
DeleteBravo Thasu! The trick is not to give up, a little at a time and then when you start next day you will have known the trail, fall in love with it. I am certain your weariness was dispelled each time you stopped to look around and filled your lungs and soul. To trek is to live, to live is to live the mountains. You always have to come back, no point in counting up the years if you are not living.
ReplyDeleteVery proud of you, Bravo Thasu!