And I realised the sheer futility of my pitiful existence - 4

02Jun08

11th May, ‘08 - 0000 hours - This is the first time that I’m making an entry at 0000 hours of a day - a day that has just begun. GBS and Ms T are here, with two huge back-packs. I almost broke my arms carrying them up the stairs. My fears have come true. Ms T is not bad looking and seems intelligent too. I’ll make it a point to stay away from her or at least try to. GBS is high on enthusiasm. Both of them have been travelling non-stop for quite some time. I realise now that whoever had come up with the quote, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’, had created the most practical quote ever. It’s significant here, this quote, life saving at times. If only everyone could appreciate it.

11th May, ‘08 - 1000 hours - I’ve been up early. Going over the snaps I’d taken yesterday it occured to me that I wasted battery and effort taking some pics which had no chance of coming out well. One should always save battery and memory on such trips. They should have been saved for the last stretch of the Jammu-Srinagar highway. I spent an hour deleting a lot of pics. Wajid is late. In fact, he won’t be coming with us. He’s arranged for somebody else to take us there. We are late by hours. Breakfast has been passed over. Standing on the balcony, I can feel how life must be here. Always being a little afraid, a bit apprehensive, living on the edge must be hard for the lovely people. They don’t trust the police. Even I don’t. I’d rather take the army or CRPF jawans into trust. Take the police out of the picture and one gets the best that can be got in a city. Life goes on as usual but there’s this tension in the air, looming in the backdrop, intangible, unreachable, unspeakable, ominous. What use living in a paradise that requires constant guarding against the forces of hell? We haven’t registered yet at the Tourist Reception Centre here. Everybody keeps on saying it’s not required.

 

11th May, ‘08 - 1100 hours - Mr. P just informed that the plan’s changed. We are to go with another driver, Javed. He’s charging us Rs. 8500 for the trip. It sounds okay to me, as long as we get there. We are going to Leh with a night halt at Kargil. Not doing that would be foolhardy. I hope we stop at places on the way for photographs. I really regret not having a pic of those snow covered peaks. Time to go.

 

11th May, ‘08 - 1230 hours - I had my first taste of Roganjosh today. One should never have it with Kashmiri pulao which is predominantly sweet. We took it with plain rice. Lhasa restaurant near Dal Gate provides authentic Kashmiri and Chinese dishes at very reasonable prices. It’s a place that has to be visited when in Srinagar. I liked the Save Tibet plague on the door better than the food though. I’m not a foodie like Mr. P. Roganjosh to me, tasted only mediocre, but since Mr. P is praising it to no end, I take his word for it.

11th May, ‘08 - 1400 hours - Sonamarg is a wonderful place. Some 84 kms from Srinagar, it is known for its scenic beauty. Lots of tourists are just frolicking about on the grass. We had Kashmiri tea. It tasted salty. We also had bagharkhani, a puffy patty. At Sonamarg, one has to wait for clearance to go any further. If the road’s clear, the army lets the convoys first, then the transport vehicles and then the passenger vehicles. Lush green grasslands on one side and snowy peaks on the other. It’s really beautiful, seemingly straight out of a travel calendar. For the first time, I feel the cold outside. I’m tempted to buy some winter clothing here but I’m saving cash. We are lucky. It seems that a friend of our driver who’s in the army can let us through.

11th May, ‘08 - 1500 hours - I’m shit scared. I wonder if the others are as scared too. The unpaved roads are muddy from the water of the melting snow. A drop of some 3000 metres awaits us should we veer even a little. There’s no margin for error here. Absolutely none. I remember Dad asking me if I was saying my prayers regularly. I’d answered in affirmative, so as not to hurt his feelings. But more than that I didn’t want to worry him. Back home, there is more faith in the miracles of God than in the endurance of man. Most probably they wouldn’t have allowed me to come on this trip had they known I no longer prayed. The idol I’ve with me is more of a furniture now. I’m not an atheist, quite religious in fact. But of late, I’ve been having my doubts about the bidhimarga.

11th May, ‘08 - 1630 hours - This place is heavenly. Oh, I wish to take it all in. In spite of this breathtaking beauty, I’m scared. At a height of more than 3500 metres, it’s difficult to battle death, should it wish to take over. Zozilla pass, the gateway to Ladakh is everything like I’d expected. There’s snow all around. It’s freezing cold here. Tunnels of ice and rivers of snow. My shoes are not made for such trips. Adidas, however costly, is not of much use here. One needs to have shoes with a thick sole else, water seeps right through them. I’m avoiding walking on ice. I should have got Woodland shoes. This is the most beautiful experience I’ve ever had so far. Javed is inspecting the vehicle. I think we have a problem. I’ll probably have no regrets if I happen to die here. I’ve seen enough to embrace death.

 

11th May, ‘08 - 1700 hours - We are stuck here. One of the suspensions has cracked. Javed and Shabbir are repairing it. They’ve put in a piece of wood for the cracked spring. If it holds, we’ll be lucky. We are shooting some videos. I still find myself shaky in front of a camera. Mr. P is better. I can only stammer out some words incoherently. I’m leaving the anchoring to him. I can feel the thin air here. It’s an effort just to talk. Running is out of question. I’m puffing out rings of smoke from a non-existent cigar. Amid these giant mountains, I suddenly realise my insignificance. In the larger scheme of things, I’m but a vile, vain, vicious creature. Leading a contemptible life full of chicanery, I’m filled with sudden shame. I realise the utter futility of my pathetic existence, fuelled by an ego as large as these mountains. I can’t emulate these majestic peaks, soaring up high into the clouds yet rooted firmly to the ground. My vices are my destiny. I neither have the courage nor the conviction to take it upon me to reform myself. How abhorrably sad! How sadly true! How truly abhorrable!

11th May, ‘08 - 1730 hours - I can’t help thinking of Ice Station Zebra. What if all of us begin to die one by one? What if the driver brothers are agents for some secret organisation. There’s no one for miles around. In this place, it’s so damn easy to murder someone. I hope the urge doesn’t arise in me. I won’t be able to fight it now.

11th May, ‘08 - 1800 hours - Light is fading fast. Clouds are gathering. If it rains, we are doomed. It’s biting cold. One should always come prepared. I just have half a sweater and a cord jacket which isn’t much. If I don’t die of pneumonia, I’ll probabaly develop a life long cold. The others think that they’ve got frost bite. I’m sure they are mistaken. We haven’t come in touch with water so far. I’m rubbing my hands vigorously to keep them alive. I want to listen to Comfortably Numb now. Mr. P is ranting on about Fargo. I’m thinking of the Coen brothers too. Anton Chigurh might be lurking in the mountains ready to kill us all or a sniper on the mountains might find us irresistible; or some mujahid friends of our drivers might suddenly appear and take us hostage. It’s hard to remain sane here. It’s fucking scary.

 

11th May, ‘08 - 1930 hours - We are approaching Drass. It’s a small place, too small in fact. No photos to be taken here, in the no-photography zone. We just passed a silence zone. I think we were supposed to be quiet there, but nobody cared. BP and Javed are talking about the technicalities of car headlights in which I’m the least bit interested. Mr. P, GBS and Ms T are engaged in a conversation about TV shows which I find only stupid. I’m lying on the back seat listening to them all, shots of pain rising up my spine from time to time when we run over a hump or a bump. I hope my back pain doesn’t aggravate. We will miss the War Memorial for sure. It’s already dark and we’re short on time. Drass is the second coldest place in the world after Siberia. It’d be a miracle if I don’t fall ill. No registration here too. Just army check posts and Transit Check Points.

11th May, ‘08 - 2030 hours - Javed bluffed his way out of the check post where the policeman was demanding money to let us through. He made us the guests of the IG. I don’t mind in the least. Neither do the others.

11th May, ‘08 - 2230 hours - Kargil at last! This is a small, sleepy, dark town. We need a place to stay. Almost all shops are closed, all doors locked. It’s the same here. Talk in whispers, stay home, lock yourself. Stifling would be an understatement. Why do I keep on recalling the story of Gumnaam?

12th May, ‘08 - 0130 hours - Hasta la Vista is a nice place to check in for just one night, despite the cracked walls and the cockroach infested rooms. Rs. 400 for a room isn’t that costly compared to other places here. The people in this hotel are courteous. 5 of us are cramped in a single room leaving the other to our drivers. It’s tough, but we’ve been chatting since an hour after having a plain dinner of beans curry and rice. I need to get some sleep. But I find this gossip interesting - ghost tales, literary exploits, school syllabi… we are discussing them all. I wish this night lasted forever.

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Tags: Abhorrence, Adventure, Doubts, Drass, Faith, Hasta la Vista, Himalayas, Insignificance, Jammu and Kashmir, Kargil, Life, Roganjosh, Snow, Sonamarg, Srinagar, Travelogue, Zozilla Pass