Neele Gagan Ke Tale Me & myself in Leh-Ladakh One of my fb friend’s posts got me thinking. Simple post had listed the time a we spend doing various things in our life time; work, sleep, eat, stuck in traffic, and even in bathroom, leaving us one fifth of our life to “LIVE”, and finally asking a question “What are you waiting for?” seemed like I was still not “LIVING”, I enjoy my life as much as the next person, I thought. I have to start “living”, do something different, exciting, and adventurous, out of the box. What could be better than take a trip by myself to Himalayas, away from my routine, out of my comfort zone? Three months and high altitude sickness later I looked at my pictures of Leh-Ladakh and remembered the beauty of the place. I had taken the trip to enjoy the solitude, connect with the nature, get away from city crowds and have an adventure of a different kind. I had fantasized walking alone on meandering paths through green pastures, painted pictures of tall beautiful pines against the backdrop of blue skies and snow covered mountains, dreamt of sitting by the lake reading books, not Harlequin Romance novels but my favorite Agatha Christie, Hurcule Poirot mysteries. Being located in the region of Jammu-Kashmir, at the foot hills of Himalayas, Leh-Ladakh is well known for its scenic beauty, attracting tourists from all over the country and then some, they all seem to sing nothing but its praises. Then why did I feel like a fish out of the water? I had envisioned cows grazing in the fields not crowding me on the road joined by the stray dogs. Instead of meandering paths, I found narrow roads lined with crumbled buildings and cars blowing dust along with their blaring horns. There was no solitude, no nature to connect with; no escape from the crowds, and only adventure was to cross the road without getting run over by the cars. Trip was planned for mid-April, air was still cool, pleasant for me and the locals but definitely too cold for the tourists coming from the warmer parts of the country. Most had come in groups of families including noisy, unruly children of all ages. Unlike me they had done their homework and had come prepared to brave the element. Everyone was covered in wool and parka from top of their heads to the tip of their toes, clad with thick gloves. I on the other hand was not prepared at all, not because of fault of my own; My bags were too heavy to accommodate an Oxygen cylinder. In search of Diamox I went to “Vitamin Shoppe”, only to receive an expert medical advice from an 18 year old sales associate, who tried to convince me to buy air sickness pills; in his brilliant mind he figured that high flying plane and high altitude got to be one and the same thing. First leg of the journey went without a hitch, no adventure, not even changing the plane. After 15 hour of flight to Delhi, I was very impressed with the efficiency and welcoming at the customs and immigration, rather than opening my bags looking for imaginary smuggled valuables, and pulling out my unmentionables in the process, they decided to completely ignore me and focus on every woman wearing a burkha and a man with her. I made a mental note of not to ever wear a burkha, no matter how much of a bad hair day I am having, or how lazy I am feeling to wear makeup and street clothes. I swallowed my pride of being ignored and moved on. Newly built, beautiful airport had every American shop to make me feel right at home, cleanliness of the city and the ease of travel was amazing. I seemed to have started my trip on a right foot. Flight to Leh was at the wee hour of next morning. A small plane and a short flight later I got in a tiny Leh airport. Most passengers were very young, new military recruits with last name Kumar or maybe they had taken after old movie actors; Dilip Kumar, Rajendra Kumar, Raj Kumar. I took comfort in having them on board, though none of them looked any stronger than me nor did they carry guns, at least they would out number terrorists, if any happen to be on board, I thought. I tried to blend in by speaking my recently polished Mumbai Hindi. There was presence of military personnel everywhere on the runway & airport building, prohibiting photography of any kind, that of a tiny airport or the magnificent surrounding mountains. All mountains looked alike, snow covered peaks & devoid of any vegetation, if I was a terrorist, would definitely have trouble telling them apart. I took a taxi and settled in, looking forward to a ride through countryside, 5 minutes later I was at the hotel, no countryside, then reality hit me; Leh is a small town without any countryside. Grand Dragon, the best hotel in Leh was comfortable at best. I opened the window curtains in my quest to get a glimpse of the lake; I could see beautiful snow covered mountain peaks but there was no sign of lake anywhere, only to learn later that the “Lake” which is also known as Lake Pangong is 142 km away at the height of 14,250 ft. and can only be reached with a five-hour drive. Already gasping for air at 11,000 ft., I made a decision to put off going to lake for now, Hercule Poirot has to wait. Without getting discouraged I thought of exploring the market instead. Leh’s Main and only market was a 5 minute uphill walk; it was bustled with locals, small shops with no particular pattern were selling daily necessities. Women in traditional Indian outfits carried sleepy children on their backs; men wore western clothes except for the Buddhist monks, with their maroon robes and shaved heads. I was told that the people of Leh and surrounding region predominantly belong to only two religions, Buddhists with big, beautiful monasteries, high up in the mountains, although Buddhist presence was visible with big and small stupas everywhere. Buddhist stupas were originally built to house the earthly remains of the historical Buddha and his associates and are almost invariably found at sites sacred to Buddhism. The concept of a relic was afterwards extended to include sacred texts. Rest of the population was predominantly Muslims, with huge, colorful and very ornate Mosques on the main road; worshipers were gathered on the steps of the Mosque for midday prayer. There were no temples or churches. I leisurely sat by the window of a little café with no name and no patrons and watched the world go by while sipping on “Ginger Honey Lemon Tea” served in a tall glass; warm and sweet with grated fresh ginger, it was my first introduction to this delicious drink I called Amrit of Himalayas. Official tourist season had not started yet; shops, closed during brutal cold winter were getting ready for the season. I was happy not to be surrounded by the tourists with cameras around their necks and cell phones stuck to their ears. I had no interest in shopping or taking random pictures. I was happy to be completely cut off from the rest of the world. My phone did not work and being a foreigner, I was not allowed to purchase a phone; who am I to protest such rules? On the recommendation from a very friendly, mostly Nepali, hotel staff, I visited the Royal Palace, clearly visible from the hotel, high up in the mountains but still within a walking distance. No map needed, no directions given. After climbing a lot of uneven steps, jumping over few low stacked stone walls, and after being guided by few little children, finally I got to a simple wooden door of the palace; the structure boasted its simplicity with spectacular views of the surrounding snow covered mountains and the town below. It was devoid of any furniture, and except for one pleasant Buddhist monk, lacked any other staff. No one was watching me or telling me to do or not do anything. Palace was peaceful and quiet but I could hear cheering of the school children at a game in town, distant enough not to disturb the tranquility. I lingered until the Sunset before returning to the hotel. Next few days I learnt my way around town which was just one main road, turn right, you came to the market, turn left get to the airport. Trying to get acclimatized was a painfully slow process, I decided to walk in some shops with Ladakhi jewelry, it turned out to be a beautiful experience, unique pieces were made by the Ladakhis with locally found Turquoise, and other semi-precious stones, and some were adorn with coral to give contrast. Shop keepers were from Shrinagar who travel all over India selling the jewelry which has been their family business for generations. I appreciated their hard work and bought many beautiful pieces. By 4th day in Leh, I finally decided to venture outside the city limits and visit some of the well-known Buddhist monasteries, and there were many. It was a very different experience; though structures were somewhat different, they all had lot in common, feeling of humanity, kindness, peace and tranquility. Although there was a distinct presence of monks, they stayed out of tourists’ way; simple signs requesting not to take the pictures with Buddha were well respected by the visitors. A very pleasant drive of 30 minutes took me to Thiksay Monastery. The picturesque setting of the monastery is tourists’ attraction. Little houses on the mountainside were crowned by the spectacular Monastery. Painted wood beams and magnificent statue of Buddha was mesmerizing, I sat on the floor, little distance from a monk, with a peaceful expression, reading his prayers, he was undisturbed by my presence. Finally, being tired of gasping for the air, I took an advice of a local travel agent and decided to venture to a remote village at a lower altitude. I was looking for more monasteries, peaceful and tranquil, what I got was lot more; everything seemed to have come to life at lower altitude, green fields, trees including apricot trees in full blossom. I saw yaks grazing in the green pastures, and cheerful locals. On the way I stopped by yet another picturesque monastery of Khalise. It was a gem, with beautiful wooded grounds, with many small but quaint buildings. While strolling on the shady grounds I was stopped by an old monk, sensing my lack of faith he took me by the hand, he wanted to make a believer out of a tourist, and made me chant the Mantra – Aum Mani Padme Hum, all while turning the wheels of prayers, and there were many. He lived in a village some 15 miles away and walked every day to come and pray at the monastery, I admired his devotion and wondered could I ever devote myself to anything so truly and so completely? Couple of hours later, with a heavy heart I left the monastery and drove on the banks of river Indus to a small village named Biama. There I found what I was looking for, green fields, flowing water, no tourist and one small restaurant next to a guest house. I spent the night at the guest house. Up in the mountains I could see a beautiful home which happened to be one of the homes of the 14th Dalai Lama, no security, no one to stop me and no tourists. I so very much wished his holiness The Dalai Lama was there. At last, after few days of acclimatization, and lot of courage later, I decided to travel to Lake Pangong. Hotel taxi provided me with a tank of oxygen and bag lunch for the road. Road was narrow, rough, snow covered and on the edge of the mountains with the dramatic views, it crossed many little villages and 17,250 ft high Changla pass, army presence was very visible there and yet non interfering with the tourists. We crossed river called Pagal Naala, it means, yes you guessed it right, “The Crazy Stream”. All the villages looked beautiful at the beginning of spring, but they were small and not connected to each other; the thought of being cut off from rest of the world in long, brutal, cold winters gave me a shiver. Every so often I saw shepherds herding yaks. I couldn’t help but wonder, what these people must think of the civilized world? There is nothing but day to day survival in their world. As we got closer to the lake, from a distance driver pointed the spectacular lakeside. 134 km long and 5 km wide Lake Pangong is a salt water lake, which lacks marine life. It extends from India to Tibet, 60% of the lake is in Tibet which is now under the control of China. There is no vegetation around and not much of human presence, no Chinese tourists on the other side of the lake. Except for the tourists in the season, there won’t be any one on Indian side either, I thought. It was beautiful and yet very unsettling. I longed for Lake Michigan and all its touristy attractions. I had done something different, adventurous, exciting, but thought of solitude was no longer as appealing to me. May be in the future when I crave for solitude, I will sit in my backyard and watch Shady Canyon and enjoy the peace and tranquility. I don’t have to travel world apart to start living, I can start in my backyard. I decided to put “LIVING” on hold, for now. https://youtube/watch?v=pSE9QzQ-EKY
Posted on: Mon, 05 Aug 2013 22:06:37 +0000
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