Monday, July 10, 2000
Journey To Ladakh- Part 7
Rasik ShahRasik Shah was born in the Indian diaspora in colonial apartheid type society of Kenya. Having grown up in a multi-lingual, 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 leads trekking tours to the Garwhal region of India and overland jeep safaris to Ladakh. He writes full time now, leading trekking tours as a hobby. He has published short stories and articles 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
4. An article on magical realism at: http://www.uweb.ucsb.edu
Links to his travel and trekking articles can be found at:
http://www.sawf.org/rasik
He has written a novel set in Kenya and is now putting together a book on Trekking in the Indian Himalayas.
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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Dear Readers:
We got to Keylong after the long two day, unplanned trek from the landslide area starting at Chhatru in Part 6. I want to take a break at this point from the straight narrative, and recap the journey so far in a poetic form. About two years ago I was asked to do a travel reading at a kind of writers corner on a small stage in a coffee house and read out the following narrative. I owe the inspiration to do it in this form to Paul Sprachmann, a highly eloquent member of our party who nearly got hit by falling rocks near Chhota Dara. Paul has since published a book on classical Persian poetry and was one of the liveliest members of the party, trying out his Urdu, using swear words to mobilize truck drivers to get together and push a blocking truck out of the ice and mud track at the high pass at Taglang La.
Paul read his own narrative poem of the trip at a farewell party in Leh at our hotel, where his reading left everyone, including the hotel staff and waiters, spellbound, so much so that hardly anyone realized it was 2 a.m.!
Note: The early part of the narrative was read as I referred to a map of the Ladakh region on a board. I have decided to leave the text unchanged.
A certain Mr. Chauhan, the scholar from New Jersey and the Cook who works in a Bank.
I sometimes take out small groups of people on tours of India
This is a story about a small adventure we had in the Himalaya
There's a short introduction I need to make
Here's a map - you see here's north-west India
Up there is Ladakh the only remaining Shangri-lah
It's all so high, late in the night you still keep awake.
The route or raaoute, if you must, was this.
By train to Shimla and then by bus to this,
This area close to Tibet and back to this and this.
The idea was to get to Leh in Ladakh and that's this.
The trek we did. T'is here, a place called Chhota Dara
See all that white up from the yellow plains array Hari Hara
That's just my little invocation to Shiva
The bus could go no further cause the river flooded heea.
There were landslides ahead; so we trekked from here
To a place called Chhatru and camped there;
The next day from there to Gramphu, somewhere along,
Where another bus picked us up to take us to Keylong.
Rest Stop on Trek
Up in the high Himalayas, in desolate Lahaul and Spiti
The bus and the jeep followed the road round and shifty,
Undulating, interspersed by waterways gurgling and swishing
Crossing over rickety wooden bridges with planks missing.
Many of us were soon humming the local mantra
aum mani padme hum, om mani padme hay
The jewel's in the heart of the lotus says the tantra
Lotus pray, let us pray, may we survive this day
Manuela in junk shop
We were a party of Canadians, pukkah Canooks
Said the scholarly man from New Jersey
He could manage Pushtu, Urdu and had looks
That suggested scholarship pursued fiercely
Certainly he utilised the Hindi swear word M-effer,
On occasion which demanded the boss's order
Such as when a line of trucks got stuck at Pang La
And later on at the high pass called Taglang La
But that's way ahead of the story I have to tell
The worst was to begin when we faced hell,
When the angry mountain goddess spewed out
Rocks and boulders down the valley and about.
We had already abandoned the bus behind the ridge
Of a mighty stream that had lost its rickety bridge
Groups of three or more got ferried across by jeep
Each one to obey an injunction some distance to keep,
Lest too much bunching caused confusion totally.
The first group was led by Neelu the tour leader
Followed by sturdy Harvey and eccentric Barbara Kapelli.
The second lot were the New Jersey wife, son and scholar
That is to say Susan, Isaac and Paul Sprachmann,
Followed by Melinda Huntley and perhaps the young Friesens.
Somewhere in there also was a certain Mr. Chauhan
Said to be highly connected, a far-sighted man;
The land allocation officer for Spiti, no less
In a trim Nehru suit and carrying a briefcase
He had hitched a ride with us from his quarters in Kaza
Made sure we all paid obeisance to the goddess
En route on the summit in a mountain fastness
Promising accident insurance and divine bonanza.
Four of us still remained on this side of the river,
Waiting for the first groups to reach up the hill to the building,
we were soon calling the Rest House, where the road was turning..
All seemed to be in order on both sides of the water.
From our vantage point I watched a rock or two
Rolling down the mountain and strike the road
Right in front of the leader and I cried, Oh my god!
The rocks are falling on them, what can they do?
There was disarray in the group we could discern -
not too well; so I've reconstructed the scene a bit
With later data from those not about to be hit
Of course all were uncertain and full of concern.
Worse was to come when another rumble began
Dislodging a mighty boulder aiming at the scholar
"Run, Paul run!" shrieked Susan, a mighty holler
From so tiny a person you could hardly imagine.
Dust and debris replaced Susan and Paul both
But soon someone said they've made it to safety
It was the closest we came to the mountain's wrath
Everyone would that night be a touch persnickety.
Now Dr. Anand took command and did speak.
A veteran mountain climber and rescuer
He practiced in Surat as an ayurvedic doctor
But in spare time did scale some Himalayan peak.
He now did show his mettle and was soon running
Across the mountain in wide strides watching the rim
He was experienced, not trusting the mountain's cunning
Had once rescued four men buried in snow quite grim.
Now an hour gone, he returned along the river gully
Hopping from rock to rock like a nimble deer.
All was safe, he reported, they were in the shelter.
We could see the distant building across the valley.
Soon he organized the rest of us to go up the road
Ruling out the river route as dangerously slippery
Taking up the shaken Nancye's hand still shiverry
The gods were appeased and we all reached the abode
Euphemistically called Rest House. All were settled,
Paul deeply immersed in a card game with wife and son,
Harvey less perturbed now than when a monkey robbed
Him of his glasses at a tourist site in Shimla town.
Every now and then peace was shattered loudly,
By yells issuing from Paul, arguing about the game
And Susan slammimg or shouting back no less boldly
Son Isaac joined in his own right, not to be regarded tame
Melinda was shaking and in tears, Nancye in a daze.
Brian did the rounds of the toilet, such as it was,
And handed out perfumed kleenexes to one and all.
Mr. Chauhan was eagerly chasing me to tell all.
All I wanted was to be alone but Mr. Chauhan
Was too excited to manage English and needed
Someone to follow his Hindi. Eager was he to explain -
we escaped because clearly the goddess had heeded.
'Why had she put us in danger in the first place? '
I was too irritated to ask and shook him off my back
Seeking out that rum guy Neelu and spread my sack
And soon the hot toddy warmed up the space.
Road to Hemis
Mr. Chauhan invoked Sanskrit slokas in the night
In grateful thanks to all the deities in the Indian parlance.
Barbara just shrugged shoulders with albion non-chalance,
Saying it's them small rocks at high speed were the blight.
Relief was in the swish of the Indian rum and rain water
And the piping hot dishes issuing from the makeshift kitchen
Thanks to our cook called Chili, unbeatable, beyond fear,
Ready with good food and cheer, any time and no bitchin'.
Well, that was that and we hiked the next day
In bright sunshine and under the blue sky
Over hill and dale crossing many swollen rivulets
Brian still handing out the infinite supply of towelettes
Mr. Chauhan still in creaseless Nehru suit on the road
Chili and company following distantly with gear on
Some really recalcitrant ponies rejecting their load
We made it to a great spot in the Himalayan moon
I found I had been proclaimed a minister of state
By Mr. Chauhan who secured two rooms on that pretext
In the government guesthouse in Chhatru and the rest
Was fun and games till we reached Keylong a day late
Mr. Chauhan was now ahead with own car and driver
To ensure our hotel booking was properly honoured
Albeit a day late even if some other party had to be bumped
I had my faith restored in Mr.Chauhan as trouble shooter.
Windswept road to Leh
Days ahead, on our new bus we had more adventure
At Pang past the windswept plains of Sarchus
But we can leave that for an occasion later
Suffice it to say Chili caught up with us
Emerging from a water lorry unscathed as ever
For a hero's welcome in Pang and was soon on top
Relieving the lovely Nepali lady who owned the teashop
Serving the company under the motto 'Better Leh than never'
Only one small postscript now and I'm dun,
The genius cook of the Ladakh journey, Chili, he is
Working full time for a certain Bank in Dehradun
You see he cooks only if specially recruited, Chili does.
Exquisite sculpture - Hemis
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 Rasik Shah and Chris Friesen.
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