Monday, April 17, 2000
Journey To Ladakh- Introduction Part-1
Rasik Shah
Rasik Shah was born in the Indian diaspora in the colonial apartheid type society of Kenya in the early forties. Having grown up in a multi-ligual, multi-racial society, he studied law in the London of the early sixties and went back to Kenya, practising as a criminal lawyer. He migrated with his young family to Canada in 1974 and practised law in Vancouver till 1995. He has been conducting trekking tours to the Garwhal region of India in the last few years and is now retired from law, writing full time. He has short stories at the following sites:
1. "The Ngong Hills" at www.dorsai.org/~tjhubsc/ngong.htm
2. "At the Dentist's" at www.es.co.nz/~treeves/rasik.htm
3. "The Discreet Charm of Nairobbers" at: www.litnet.mweb.co.za
(double click "write again").
Currently he is working on a novel set in Kenya. He plans to lead a trekking group to Gaumukh, the source of the Ganges in September, 2000. (See his articles on the Gangotri-Tapovan trek in the previous issues of Sawf), and a jeep safari to Leh, Ladakh overland from Shimla via Lahaul and Spiti in the summer of 2001.
Please address any queries to him at: rshah132@home.com
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Introduction: A visit to Tibet.
 Ladakh is a magical name, wrapped in myth and mystery. I had first heard about it in the context of India's war with China in the early sixties, as some remote barren icy land most of which were uninhabited and a chunk of which the Chinese had occupied, claiming it to be theirs. Nehru was pretty shaken by the defeat and humiliation India suffered in this theatre and in the North East region of India. I was en route on a ship to Mombasa from Bombay in 1964 when I heard the news that Nehru had died.
Tibet hit the headlines, since its occupation by China in 1959 and the escape of the Dalai Lama to India where he has lived in exile to this day. I read books like Heinrich Herrer's Seven Years in Tibet and became fascinated by the sheer exoticism of that land of mystery, cut off from the rest of the world, situated virtually on the roof of the world. There is a small Tibetan refugee community in Vancouver, where I live. Over the years I kept up with news about Tibet, even had occasion to hear the Dalai Lama speak when he visited the city. I got interested in Buddhist philosophy, in particular the writings of the Dalai Lama. He came to represent, to my mind, as the leading political-spiritual leader in the world today, after the demise of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jn. Tears came to my eyes every time I heard him speak, live or on radio or television. The only other comparable figure in moral stature was Nelson Mandela. Tibet loomed large in my mind and finally an opportunity to visit it occurred while I was visiting Nepal in 1994. A travel and tour operator in Kathmandu was promoting an overland bus tour to Lhasa. He organized visas to China and soon I was on my way through some difficult terrain crossing the Himalayas into Tibet.
 Our group had about twenty odd members, all westerners, except myself and our Nepali tour leader and guide. His name was Indra. Because I was one of the few single persons not paired up with anyone else, and we had to share double rooms with somebody or other, I was paired up with Indra, who was also traveling solo. In fact I had become quite paly with Indra early on in the tour, sharing the two seater space in the front of the bus. The tour price was $500 (US), including accommodation and food along the journey to Lhasa. The accommodation proved quite basic as it turned out, but we had been warned about this, and the price we were paying was considered a bargain, covering most of our expenses for the eight day trip, including our flight back to Kathmandu from Lhasa.
We had to get off our Nepali bus at Kodari and switch to a Chinese army truck. This truck was an open one with overhead metal bars and we were loaded into it like cattle, standing on the floor board, holding on to the metal bars above. The truck climbed through the pass in the Himalayan range that we now crossed, after going over the Bridge of Friendship over the Sun Kosi river. The truck bumped over a very rough track, going steeply up the winding pass, taking sharp jolts that nearly threw us over, the truck veering dangerously on one side over the rugged track. We were knocked about on this very rough ride, some people screaming and hanging on to the cold metal overhead bars for dear life. Finally we were past the Tibetan border, at the customs and immigration post before we would be let into Zhangmu, the Tibetan border town.
 We were all off-loaded at the customs and immigration post and lined up to be processed through, ready with our passports. We all had our visas stamped on our passports, Indra's firm having organized that part of the formality. Indra had told me that this was the first overland tour to Lhasa that his tour and travel company had organized, the Chinese having recently liberalized their policy in allowing tourists access to Tibet. Entry into Tibet was always a hit or miss affair so far, I had learnt, because the border was closed every time there had been any trouble in Tibet itself. As it happened, I found out that there had been trouble in Lhasa only a few days before we got there. An incident had occurred in the Jokhang area and rioting had broken out, which the Chinese army soldiers had brutally suppressed, opening fire and killing and wounding a few Tibetans.
Things were tense in Tibet, I sensed it right away, as soon as we were lined up at the border customs check. Most of us were carrying backpacks, and the border guards, apparently under the command of a tough-looking woman, were making most of our party, open their rucksacks and examining the contents carefully. I was right at the end of the line, with Indra hanging around on one side, not quite lined up for a check with the rest of the party. I saw the officials make one party member unzip his rucksack, taking out a book and leafing through it for examining anything that may have been inside. My heart sank, for tucked inside a paperback of Ulysses by James Joyce that I had picked up in a used bookstore stall in Kathmandu were about ten postcard-size pictures of the Dalai Lama! The guards were carrying rifles and looked as if they meant business!
Now, all my life I have been a coward in such matters as smuggling anything past customs barriers, never carrying anything contraband or failing to declare whatever I was carrying. For the first time I was doing something that was dangerous. The discovery of the Dalai Lama photos on me, specially as I planned not to declare that I was carrying anything illegal, would lead me into trouble, possibly a refusal of entry into the country. It was too late to do anything about the dangerous cargo I was carrying at this point, all of us quite visible in the short line-up that was going through.
There was nothing to do but pretend that everything was normal and that there was nothing to hide.
The line became shorter and I lined up next to Indra, pretending to be a pal of his, as if I was part of the management. When my turn came up, I still kept talking to Indra, handing in my Canadian passport to the official in front quite nonchalantly, my rucksack tucked on my back. By now, the woman who had been carrying out the searches or was ordering them, seemed to be tired. Most of the westerners had gone through, and only Indra, who looked and behaved like the Nepali tour leader that he was and I, an odd brown guy who could be his assistant, remained to be processed. The Chinese woman official took one look at me and said something to her assistant, who promptly waved me through. Another official brought back my passport while I waited at the right side of the border checkpoint, smiling at Indra who followed through quickly. A neat, elegant looking bus was waiting for us on the other side with our smiling Tibetan guide and the Chinese driver in it. Soon we were all on the bus and driven off to Hotel Zhangmu.
We checked into the hotel, surrendering our passports at the reception and walking through very long corridors to our rooms. The hotel was a massive size and made a first good impression. The room we were allotted was a big one with twin beds, lined up with stacks of blankets and heavy comforters in red, silky covers. The furnishings proclaimed a chilly night ahead. We helped ourselves to lots of tea from the huge, big thermos flasks on the bedside table, and after a wash in cold water, got ready to go for a walk in town. The hotel was not by any means as luxurious as it first seemed. It had size, but there was no hot water, and the common bathrooms left a lot to be desired. We would be supplied with hot water in the big thermos flasks that seemed to be ubiquitous, vehicles for hot water for tea, washing, everything.
I wrapped myself in my heavy down coat, scarf and gloves. A number of other members of the party joined us. It was past five o'clock and it was already getting dark.
 We walk through the main street. There is a dark, menacing atmosphere in this frontier town; Chinese soldiers in uniforms are everywhere. A lot of shops and eating-places are run by the Chinese, it is very cold and getting dark. There are a few shops selling camera films and such; and there are signs the town is waking up to its potential as a bustling border town full of passing tourists.
We are served noodles and rice based Chinese food in the hotel dining room at about eight in the evening. My craving for Indian food will go up for the next few days; there is nothing appetizing to have as we travel ahead, except for the hot, deep-fried mutton momo snacks, reminiscent of the samosa. We will get used to salty, butter tea as we get deeper into Tibet, warming and soothing as any thick, creamy soup.
Rasik Shah is leading a trek to the source of the Ganges and Tapovan this year in September. There will also be an overland jeep safari of Ladakh in the summer of 2001, going via Lahaul and Spiti. See future issues of Sawf Magazine for Rasik Shah's articles on Ladakh and past issues for the articles on Ganges and Tapovan trek.
For further details or inquiries please e-mail him at: rshah132@home.com
In India his trek and tour organizer is:
Neelamber Badoni
Trek Himalaya Tours Pvt. Ltd.
The Upper Mall, Jhulaghar
MUSSOORIE (UP) INDIA
Ph. 011-91-0135-630491
Telefax: 011-91-0135-631302
E-mail: trekhimalaya@vsnl.com
Or:
neelubadoni@rediffmail.com
Credits
- Photographs taken by the Author.
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