I
Sandakphu was my first trek in the Himalayas and one of the
things that struck me was the difficult lives of the people who live in
these mountains, where the wind and the cold turn you older, faster.
I remember one specific instance when we were walking
downhill on a moderately steep slope and saw a young woman coming uphill with
her 2 children carrying a load of fire-wood. The first on the two children was
a girl, maybe 10 years old, also carrying a load of fire-wood on her head and the
younger boy, about 4, carrying a long piece of wood on his tiny head, held
firmly into place with his tiny hands.
My heart ached to see this little family lumbering up the
steep hill with the fuel that will help make their dinner tonight and I thought
about our easy city lives, where at a flick of a knob we have all the fire we
need.
Amongst all the things that travel has given me, I think
that perspective is the most important. The perspective that all people are different and everyone is fighting their own battles, so it is important to be kind and patient with people, the perspective that everything
happens for a reason and sometimes when we can’t do anything about a situation,
we just have to let it go and move on and the perspective (rather, wisdom) to have gratitude for what I have.
II
The Mt. Sandakphu trek in May 2015 was my first trek in the
Himalayas, but will definitely not be the last.
The highest mountain in West Bengal, Mt. Sandakphu is located
inside Nepal’s Singalila National Park and stands tall at 11929 ft. on the
border of Nepal and India. The road to this Mountain is flaked with dense
forest, winding mountain roads and daunting climbs to its summit. The
single-digit temperature just adds to the woes of trekkers.
But at the end of the road, when you reach the summit with
swollen feet, chocked breath and near frost-bitten fingers, Mt. Sandakphu will reward
you with the magnificent view of 4 of the 5 highest mountains in the world,
viz., Mt. Everest, Mt. Kanchenjunga, Mt. Lhotse and Mt. Makalu.
III
When you go to Sandakphu, you have to be prepared for a cultural
difference.
As we arrived in the mountains in the cab from Bagdogra Airport, we were suddenly thrust into a different kind of world. The world of the North-East. The people whom, we in the rest of India call “kancha” or
“chinki”, were suddenly all around us. Exceedingly warm and beautiful people,
who have adapted the harsh life in the mountains with a smile. You will never
find any person here who seems sad or unhappy. They are always smiling and laughing and joking, their eyes light up with a mischievous, innocent light, like a child who
is about to play a trick on you.
Their houses are small, their bodies are fit and their food,
although simple, tastes great.
IV
The other thing to be prepared for is the cold weather; and at the time we went, we found incessant rain throughout the 5 days of the trek.
Due to the rain, the temperature of the already cold air was down by atleast a
couple of more degrees.
The first day of our trip, when we reached the trekkers
lodge at Dhotrey (the trek starting point), I opened the door of the Innova to
get out and the cold wind hit me like a brick wall. I immediately closed the
door and decided that I was never getting out in that kind of cold.
But after travelling for 2500 kilometers from Bangalore to
Dhotrey, “not getting out” was not an option. So with gritted teeth and
clenched jaws, I got out of the car and ran inside the trekkers lodge, only to find
that it was maybe one degree warmer than outside and that’s when the
realization dawned that the cold was here to stay, I had to get adjusted to it
(of course, with a little help from the thermals, sweater and jacket).
That night after having a dinner of rice, dal and potato
sabzi, we slept in the darkness (as there was no electricity in the village) inside
our small brick-walled hut. The air grew cooler outside, but we were tired and slept
fitfully in the warm, cozy beds.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up and heard a howling
sound outside. My fatigued Hollywood-movies infested mind promptly imagined a pack
of hungry wolves. As I waited for sleep to come, I wondered how many wolves there were in that pack and what were they hunting for. What would happen if
anyone of us got out of the house to attend to nature’s call? The wolves will surely
have a mighty feast.
Suddenly, the howl sounded closer and I imagined one of the
wolves right outside the hut. Maybe he can smell my blood, feel my fear and
read my thoughts. Maybe his eyes are glowing red in the darkness and he is lusting
for prey. Any moment now, he will peep through the glass window next to my bed.
How difficult will it be for him to break the fragile glass and pounce inside?
I prayed that I will survive this godforsaken cold place,
this isolation, away from all my family, surrounded by these friends of mine,
these adventure-loving maniacs.
I coaxed myself, 'Nah, it is no wolf. It was just the wind. Al Izz Well, Mamu, Al Izz Well!!!'
Closer to nature, closer to the elements, the excitement of
adventure brewing just under the surface, surely, the air in the mountain and the jungle was playing tricks on my mind. With these final thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.
V
Fortunately, we never encountered wolves or any other
animals throughout our trek. What we encountered were the fierce elements – the
damp, never-ending rain; the bone-chilling cold and the winding, steep,
mountain road.
The rain fell eternally throughout the first 4 days of our trek. Although, it was not heavy rain, it was continuous and it thoroughly drenched me inside the rain-wear, ponchos and jackets, to the point where on the third day (in Phalut), I did not have any dry clothes to wear and sat shivering in my wet clothes near the kitchen fireplace.
The rain fell eternally throughout the first 4 days of our trek. Although, it was not heavy rain, it was continuous and it thoroughly drenched me inside the rain-wear, ponchos and jackets, to the point where on the third day (in Phalut), I did not have any dry clothes to wear and sat shivering in my wet clothes near the kitchen fireplace.
Due to the rain, my gloves would get wet and the cold felt
worse to the fingers – first it felt excruciatingly painful and after sometime all
sensation in the finger-tips was lost. Was I getting frost-bite?
The heavy rucksack weighing almost 7-10 kgs added
to the discomfort and sometime caused painful shoulders and back. Last but not the least was the continuous walking, kilometer upon kilometer, the steady upward climb that would leave me breathless
after every 100 paces or so. But I could not afford to stop, because once you
stop, starting again is double the effort.
But it was not all bad. The views (whenever the fog lifted)
were magnificent, the air in the forest was refreshing and sweet, the company of friends was exhilarating, we encountered forest birds singing their ancient songs and the topography kept changing, never getting monotonous. Also, our guide Pemba was an expert and a very nice guy, on a
couple of occasions we got to taste the Rusky - Rhododendron flower wine and
everywhere we went the people were friendly, hospitable and warm.
And on the second
day of our trek when we reached the summit of Mt. Sandakphu, I had a mystical
experience that I will never forget.
After keeping our luggage in our room, Pemba, our guide, led
us to the summit, which was a small sloping hillock of mud, not more than 50 feet high. But because of the rain, it had
turned muddy and slippery. Cautiously, taking one step at a time, we climbed the
hillock and reached the summit. Because of the fog the visibility was
zero, but it felt good to have achieved the landmark. 12000 feet above sea level,
the words grit, determination, perseverance and will-power had ceased to be
mere words for us. We had transcended mental boundaries (and some physical too).
Like Theseus’ ship, something had changed inside all of us.
It was an overwhelming feeling.
In Hindu mythology, the Gods are considered to reside in
heaven - the sky directly about our heads. So, on this summit, we were
obviously very near to God. We burnt some incense sticks and said a silent prayer,
before getting down from the hillock.
On the way back to the lodge, Pemba suggested a re-route via the village
temple and we slowly walked towards it. The village temple was really a site with multiple little
temples, with idols of different gods. The customary prayer flags were hanging
all over the place and as twilight approached on the foggy, cold evening, the
entire area got an enchanted, surreal feel to it.
Appu and I went to one of the small temple where a lady was
chanting some prayers in a mix of Hindi, Sanskrit and Nepali.
Appu promptly removed his Iphone to video-graph the entire
prayer of the woman, while I stood aside listening.
In her prayer, the lady invoked the Goddess of the temple
and described the omnipresent, omnipotent, nature of God. God as the master of
all creatures - living and non-living. God present everywhere and us humans, the mere
insignificant figments in the grand scheme of the universe.
The twilight had deepened now and darkness had almost
overtaken the daylight. I stood on a slope of the mountain, before me the
valley slowly creeping into darkness and to my right the temple of the goddess,
with the woman praying within.
The entire surrealism of the evening shadows, the atmosphere
and her voice invoking God transported me to a different plane. For a few
seconds, I felt like I was lighter than air, I was filled with immense
happiness and an extraordinary calm. In that moment, I felt my present. I felt alive.
I felt lost and intoxicated. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. There was no
truth, no reality and no physical state of being. There was only an immense
space of nothingness.
While I was floating in this state of bliss, I suddenly felt
the ground beneath my feet shake. And the next moment, I heard Appu’s cellphone creating a vibrating
sound, as it rattled against the aluminum sheet of the temple wall against which
Appu had held it while he was recording the video.
Appu looked at me. “Earthquake” he said.
I nodded my head in agreement, but somewhere in my heart, I thought that I had been touched by the hand of God.
That night after we had our dinner and were just getting ready to tuck in, Pemba, our guide come excitedly into our room and asked us to come out with him quickly. The thought of stepping out in the bitter cold night was not too enticing, but we were curious to know what he wanted to show us.
That night after we had our dinner and were just getting ready to tuck in, Pemba, our guide come excitedly into our room and asked us to come out with him quickly. The thought of stepping out in the bitter cold night was not too enticing, but we were curious to know what he wanted to show us.
We walked some distance with him and from a high place at
the end of the walk, he pointed out to the horizon to what looked like a high
cloud. As the moon came out, we saw that it was not really a cloud but a huge
white mountain, covering the horizon from one end to the other.
It was the Sleeping Buddha, Mt. Kanchenjunga, bathed in
moonlight in all its majesty.
The sight of the mountain invigorated us and filled us with
hope. I even declared to everyone that the next day, we will definitely see the
4 Mountains and so filled with hope, we went back to the lodge and went to
sleep.
On that day we had walked to toughest 15 kms of our journey.
It had been a cold, wet, exhausting day. We had strained ourselves to the point
of collapse and the next day we were supposed to walk to Phalut, which was a 19
km trek. While we were dreading the thought of the walk, we were also filled
with hope and excitement.
Sleep came quick to our exhausted bodies and quicker came
the morning, again wet and cold.
VI
The 19 kms walk on the next day was not as bad as we had
expected. Or maybe we had mentally prepared ourselves so well, that it did not
feel too difficult. But the cold in Phalut was a different animal. It was chilly,
biting cold. The kind of cold that numbs your skin, turns your finger-tips blue
and makes your joints ache. The kind of cold where you want to find a fire and
not budge from it and even when you are turned to the fire, your back is
becoming colder and number.
But the biggest disappointment was that we had not yet had a
chance to witness the 4 mountains. The day had been rainy and foggy with no
visibility beyond a few meters.
After dinner that night, Pemba suggested that on the next morning,
if it’s not raining, we could trek a couple of kilometers to a higher point on
the Phalut Mountain and take our chances with the sighting of the Big 4.
So, at 4 AM, we woke up and set out to catch a glimpse of
the mighty mountains. The short trek to the top of Mt. Phalut was brilliant (albeit steep and difficult) and
the air was clear (albeit chilly to the bones) and once we reached the top, the
view all around was incredible.
But the clouds were still playing spoilsport and we did not
have much to do except wait.
So, while we waited the sun came up slowly from the east and the colors of the clouds began to change. At one point, we saw a soft sun ray
escape the clouds and cast a spell on the valley below.
For a moment, we thought that the clouds would clear up and we will get a tiny glimpse of the 4 Mountains, but it was not meant to be. Although we were disappointed at having missed the mountains, we realized that this was one of those things in life when we could not do anything except let go and move on.
VII
After Phalut, the trek got easier, as we started the
descent. It also got prettier, as we walked through dense bamboo forests with a
variety of trees, flowers and shoots, streams flowing here and there, bumping
into other trekkers and even spotting a leopard pug-mark.
And so it was, that on the fourth day of the trek, we had walked into Sikkim from West Bengal, into a charming little village called Gorkhey.
Gorkhey is a little piece of heaven nestled in the middle of
the valley with tall mountains on all four sides. Untouched by civilization, it’s
got terraced farms growing green peas, a stream that rushes in from the
mountains with a couple of quaint little bridges built on it and a small temple
with a round pond of crystal clear water.
On the next day, the sun finally came out and we passed
through some of the most picturesque paths that I have ever been. Everywhere we
looked there was bright green grass and pale blue skies, with white fluffy
clouds. Huge, ancient pine trees dotted the landscape and two horses grazed
quietly, down below, the bell around their necks making a jingling sound which
could be heard from far. Small brick and wood huts were scattered here and there
like toy houses. It was the most beautiful scene I had ever witnessed and in
hindsight, I wish we had spent a day or two in this village.
As we walked on, the morning turned to afternoon and afternoon
to evening. And in the evening we reached Rimbik, where a car was waiting to
pick us up and take us back to the city (actually, back to Darjeeling. But
believe me, it’s as good as a city, with a mall, a movie theater and great
hustle and bustle of tourists and locals alike).
VIII
We came to Darjeeling, where we metamorphosed from
trekkers to tourists and spent 2 days doing touristy things like riding the Darjeeling Hill Railway, going
to the zoo (special mention of the Red Panda or Shifu), visiting the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute (this was the highlight for us and we wished we had come here when we were younger and enrolled in some of the mountaineering courses), checking out the
Tibetan center and the Japanese temple (4 beautiful statues of the Buddha and
scene from his life carved into wood.. marvelous!!). We even went to a nice pub for
dinner, watched a movie and had breakfast in the old English “Café Keventes” (this is the place in Barfi,
where Ranvir Kapoor proposes to Iliana).
While we were having a heavy duty breakfast at Café Keventes,
Rama suddenly yelled and starting pointing out hysterically. We thought that he
was having another one of his cold attacks and needed to find a kitchen fire to
warm himself up, until we looked up and saw him pointing into the distance.
We followed his gaze and there it was finally – Mt.
Kanchenjunga, the Sleeping Buddha, in broad day-light. We had finally had a
glimpse of the mountain for which we covered almost 75 kms on foot through tall
mountains and dense forests. And the irony of it was that it had decided to show up here in Darjeeling, in
the tourist’s paradise.
While I clicked pictures of the mountain, I was feeling a
nagging in my heart about missing Mt. Everest. We never got to see him - the
tallest one on earth. But it was also an opportunity to make a resolve. Mt. Everest
wants me to come to visit him. It will not show himself to me without me paying
the price for it. And I know I will do it. I will make that journey to him, to stand before him and pay my respect to him, someday before the pied piper arrives.
An incredible journey had come an end. A journey which was exhilarating and exhausting, beautiful and sad, adventurous and dangerous. A journey of personal growth and spirituality. A journey of gaining perspective and (trying) to leave behind prejudices.
A journey that taught me to be more compassionate. When more than 80% of the people in the world live in harsh conditions, it becomes the responsibility of the rest 20% to spread kindness and happiness, even if its through small acts. And that's what makes the world go around.
Throughout the trek, Tapan carried a handful of chocolates in his pocket, which he gave to every little child we met on the way. And when he gave the chocolates to the little girl and boy who were carrying the fire-woods, their faces lit up with 1000-watt smiles which overflowed from their beautiful "chinki" eyes. That was worth all the effort and pain we had endured during the trek. That made the whole world beautiful, irrespective of its inherent flaws.
Finally, it was all thanks to my adventure-maniac friends (who got new nicknames) -
- Appu “The Iceman”
- Tapan “Time nahi hai”
- Rama “Tandoori”
- Babloo, the caring and sharing
- Prem “the one with the jacket”..
- And of course Pemba “Bhutan.. Bhutan, to jaana padega”.
PS - What these nick names mean will require a different blog
post. J
Once again, thanks to you all, my crazy friends. This journey would not have been possible
without you. And I am looking forward to the next one with you.
IX
This blog post is already a mile long and probably only 5 people in the world will read it and hopefully,
re-read it. So I am going to include a few other items which we will not forget
about this trek. Think of it like the picture montage at the end of “The
Hangover”.
Earthquake.. Mukherjee
Hotel, Mirik.. Dhotrey.. Pemba.. Jai Mata Di, Lets Rock!!.. Mohit and his
binoculars.. Jaobari, Nepal.. High Voltage Pickle.. Singalila National Park..
Rama is cold.. Garibas, India-Nepal Border.. Border check-post across the
road.. Rusky, the Rhododendron flower
wine.. Kalapokhari, the black lake.. Boiled potato and eggs breakfast.. Bhutan planning.. Wai-Wai
noodles and veg momos… Strawberry field.. Going Topless..
And Tuffy, the wonder
dog who followed us till the end of the journey. I am going to miss her the
most. J
