Monday, July 24, 2000
Journey To Ladakh- Part 8
Rasik Shah
Rasik 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 years. 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
5. The Display Suite at: http://www.mweb.co.za/litnet
Links to his other 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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We reached Keylong after a two-day, adventurous trek in our last episode. Here we parted company with Mr. Chauhan, who headed south to Shimla, his hometown. Keylong is on the main Manali-Leh route and the road heads straight north from here, soon to enter Ladakh, technically a part of the State of Jammu and Kashmir. We hoped that the worst was over by now and that it would be easy sailing from now on. Not so, as it turned out. There are hurdles ahead. The road from Keylong to Leh passes through some of the highest passes in the world. In fact, it is said to be the second highest motorable road in the world, reaching a height of 17,500 feet at Tag Lang La.
In fact, never has it been clearer to me than when I did this trip that every journey is a metaphor for life. There are obstacles that are represented by demon figures in Buddhist religious mythology. Then there is the effort to overcome these obstacles. Then if one is lucky, one will get a glimpse of paradise, uphold something as marvelous as a fine Buddhist mural or an exquisite sculpture, perhaps in a remote monastery such as Tabo or further west towards Kashmir, such as the ancient monastery in Alachi. If one is really, really lucky, one will find ecstasy at the pinnacle of the journey, as represented in the photograph of a painting of the ecstatic, dancing Prajnaparamita in the arms of the blue Vajradhara, at the end of this article.
Our plan is to make it to Sarchu, the last outpost at the border of Himachal Pradesh and Ladakh, where there is a 'luxury' permanent camp in the windswept plains. Chili stayed back in Chhatru to try and retrieve some of the 'lost' luggage, which was left behind in some hidden spot after the pony carrying it had sunk in a river. Chili was to retrieve these bags and catch up with us further up on the Keylong- Leh road.
The road from Keylong was a much improved road, following the Chenab river. We were soon approaching Baralach La pass and the traffic of trucks going north increased considerably, following the main Manali-Leh route. The trucks ahead of us and behind us were soon moving bumper to bumper as the road began climbing up towards the Bara Lach La pass. By the time we reached an altitude of 14,000 feet, the fields and the mountains around us were snow covered and the icy road soon narrowed down to a single lane furrowed track. The going got tougher, the climb went on and on, with some trucks getting stuck with the tremendous strain on the engine that the steep ascent was imposing. We were in a line that soon stopped moving. The day was bright and the sky a brilliant blue, but it was quite cold outside. The rumour was that we were going to be stopped here for a while, until help arrived and cleared up the path further above that was blocked by a truck that had broken down.
Buddhist demon figure
An hour passed. Nothing was happening. All traffic had come to a halt. There was a mile long line of trucks behind and an endless-seeming number of trucks ahead of us. Most of us soon gave up staying awake or alert. Sleeping bags came out. People huddled under them to stay warm, now that the engine of the bus was shut off and there was no heating. Some people stretched out inside their sleeping bags on the empty rows of seats and snoozed. I decided to check out the scene ahead and took a walk up the hill along the line of trucks ahead. There were lots of people around. Many of the drivers squatted along the edge of the road and smoked away bidis. I observed the scene as I walked up about a kilometer. There were Punjabi drivers huddled under blankets, some Ladakhi women in traditional hats and warm long gowns hanging about. This was a large entourage and here and there kerosene cooking stoves were on, boiling water for tea or coffee. As Paul Sprachmann was to observe, a village was born in this place in no time at all.
Bara Lach la
As I got to the culprit truck that was blocking the whole narrow passageway, I was told that it had broken down and some special spare part was being awaited. Many of the drivers of other trucks had been at this spot overnight. Things did not look too promising. One thing that occurred to me was that with so many hands around (there were more than a hundred people hanging around on the road side), it was surely possible to organize them and get the offending truck pushed out of the way. I examined the furrows in the ice and mud of the road that had become a kind of railway line that all the traffic hade been moving on. It would not be too difficult to get some spades from some of the drivers and dig out a path for the stuck front truck to be pushed out to the side of the road, making room for others to pass it. I approached one or two more sophisticated looking drivers and talked to them about a plan to move the truck that had broken down; but I got no coherent reply. Another driver approached us while I was talking and said that it was a good idea to get everyone together and organize a collective push. I said I would get some people from our party and come back. It was a long walk to our bus. I was thinking - here was a situation, which required an organized effort. The solution to the problem was obvious, yet no one was taking any initiative. Here was an example of the stereotype of the passive, lazy, fatalistic Indian. Why were these people so docile and accepting? Shrugging their shoulders and not doing anything. Belief in action is a prime factor in the Western psyche. In Europe or North America, something would have been organized long ago. I went back to our bus and found that Paul was not around, nor was Neelu. Others were resting or snoozing. I stepped out again and explored the goings on in the new village that had formed at this unlikely place. Another hour passed. I went back to the bus and found Chris Friesen up and asking questions. I told him what I thought should be done. He agreed and came out of the bus. We were looking for Paul. The idea was to form a small party and try and galvanize people into action. Manuela joined us and we soon found Paul, who had been socializing with a bunch of drivers, practicing his Urdu.
We all went up to the front truck and talked the driver into starting the engine. All of us, including Paul, Susan, Chris, Manuela and myself got to the back of the truck and started pushing it. We shouted at the others to join us. I shouted in Hindi, Chris in English. I soon heard Paul shouting a lot of swear words in Urdu. Soon this spectacle of white tourists and women pushing the truck attracted attention and two or three men squatting on the roadside joined us. Paul was carried away now and screamed in Urdu, "Come on you m-----d, b----d, come and push". I was worried about the effect this might have. But lots of people joined us. All of us made a lot of noise. Soon about fifty people were pushing the truck and it moved slightly. Everyone was into action now and a couple of people appeared with spades and empty gunny sacks and went to the front of the truck and dug a pathway for the truck to move on, placing the gunny sacks over the icy surface under the rotating tires. Soon the truck got shoved aside to the side of the road. Paul had gone wild with the shouting, screaming obscene commands he had been issuing and never stopped until the truck had been moved successfully out of the way. Soon the line of trucks behind the front one cut through the cleared path and dug up a new pathway to follow. Some of party rushed back to where our bus was with the good news. I started walking back against the now moving line of trucks. Our bus was already on the move when I got nearer it and boarded.
Road to Sarchu
We had achieved an amazing feat. Inside the bus, I told Melinda about how we had organized people into action. I had reservations about the way Paul's screaming had worked. Perhaps there was an echo of white man as boss commandeering action. But it worked, and that is all anyone cared about at this point. We were soon past the pass and on to a smooth descent down to Sarchu. We reached Sarchu before dark and got settled into stand-up size 'tents' or galvanized sheet huts that were tent-shaped. It was a site of great relief. The huts had beds with mattresses and tons of heavy blankets for weathering the night. The camp cooks turned out a good rice and daal-shabzi meal. It was a brilliantly lit moon light and some of us took a walk to the river and back, the moon so bright that we did not need torches.
Sarchu outlook
Already the majesty of the approaching land was evident here. The brilliant star-studded night was magical. We could see shooting stars over the horizon. We were at a high enough altitude that caused some headaches or signs of nausea. Dr. Anand dished out bright red pills to Barbara who was affected and sounded tired, for the first time on the trip, and to Brian, forever the victim of bad luck. I think the bright red pills worked only if the patient believed in them.
Anyway relief was felt all around and we were to get a good, comfortable night in days for the next day's journey to Pang, over the state boundary into Ladakh proper.
Demon Figure 2 |
Ecstasy Attained |
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. The Ladakh series will continue. See past issues of Sawf magazine for the articles on the Gangotri 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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