PINDARI - 2

DEATH WISH

(This post is a continuation of the previous one, PINDARI - 1)

We are close to the eternal snows. The wonder of it is embedded deeply in our hearts and minds. There is a waterfall in every nook in the mountains. One looks like the beard of a Japanese sensei, another like the flowing white of Guru Nanak. One is a mere wisp of spray flying downwards, another could form a sizeable stream itself.

This whole stretch of the Himalayas has been named 'Dev Bhoomi' by the populace. It means Land of the Gods. So many of the deities in the Indian tradition have their abodes high up in these mountains. 

The Presence of the Master is tangible. Here is the source of sustenance to all forms of life down there. His handiwork overwhelms. One would not mind just laying down forever over here, drawn into His World. The promise of Paradise seems real; if we could just keep walking up, and up, and up, higher and higher over the Eternal Snows…. Or just lie down here, at Phurkia.

We find a clear pool of sub-zero water and bathe. The madness is upon all of us!

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The early morning takes us through flocks of sheep guarded by fierce dogs that have to be tied up before we approach, lest they tear up Kaalu or some of us. Grassy meadows sprawl on both sides of the river. Sheep dot the slopes on the far side. Some ponies have been left to roam, to be gathered again after the coming monsoon; three months of torrential rain.

The distant snows are now very close. We walk over patches of ice with water flowing beneath them. Slipping would mean sliding down to the river 500 metres below. The waterfalls are now not even mindful of the folds between ridges; they just appear anywhere and fly down the mountain.

In an ancient tale five brothers had walked up such mountains in these ranges at the end of their earthly endeavours. A dog had accompanied them. They kept climbing up, heavenwards. One by one, the four younger ones fell to the perils along the way, or maybe tests set up by the powers-that-be. The eldest reached the gates of heaven and was asked to enter. He said that if he deserved to enter, the dog did, too, for it had faced all that he had. God appeared from the form of the dog and allowed him in! This was the final test.

Most of us wanted to take Kaalu home with us, but no one could think of depriving him of this piece of heaven.

Flowery surprises! Rose bushes almost ten feet high, with the truest pink roses one has ever seen! Rhododendrons flowers violet and white in colour!

A ‘ghural’ (mountain goat) basking in the sun beside a fall of water that disappears into a hole in the mountain, only to emerge some distance lower and join the river, the children’s constant joshing a bit subdued now as cameras click and hearts lose identity as they dissolve in the beauty, the snow covered peaks looming large, the glacier just some minutes away; one loses all perspective of the things that have kept one busy or worried or labouring for decades; this is the closest to Paradise one has ever been. The plants and meadows and falls and river and snow, the children walking along with awe on their countenances, the guides who have brought us up so patiently, and two brothers with 50 years to look back over; the lines fade and blur and the world loses the form we have always known it to have.

A story read forty years ago comes to mind; ‘Chang’; a gentle, touching tale about The Place Where Elephants Go To Die.

These are not thoughts of sadness or defeat; they are feelings of bliss, dissolution, oneness, anand.

We follow the last stretch of river to reach the tip of the glacier, a gigantic mass of ice as black as any of the surrounding rocks. But with a few hundred metres to go, we must cross one of two fast flowing streams that tumble down rapidly and unite to form the Pindar.

For almost an hour we search up and down for a likely crossing place, because we are too near the glacier to turn back without atleast touching it. At last we decide to take a chance at a place where the water is split into three smaller parts and the stream flows a bit wider. We hesitantly look at Judde Tayaji, elder brother, responsible one, Rock of Ages, and in his eyes we see permission to go ahead; we haven’t come all this way to turn back without meeting the Pindari Glacier!

Alok and I go first and help everyone across one flow of water, then the second. The third flow is fast and huge. He steps in and then turns away a bit to let me go ahead. Our lower limbs are freezing, the rush of the water makes everything seem to flow in different directions. Alok’s grip is firm as I hold on to him and step forward. The current would sweep me away if I do not first let my body adjust to balance against it like one would bend against the wind in a storm. One step forward, foot firmly ensconced in the bed, shift of weight; second foot forward…. A couple of more steps and I can leave Alok’s outstretched hand and make a small lunge for a rock in the stream, at the same time dropping on one knee towards the rock. The others think I'm slipping or losing balance, but I have to have the extra purchase of my knee as I reach out and hug the rock.

Alok and I form anchors. We face upstream, and care not for what lies behind as the Pindar rages a few metres behind our backs. The others cross one by one, holding on to us as required. Dear Naba gives herself up to us and goes limp in the water as we pull and push her across. The first crossing leaves us planted rock steady in the ice cold water for half an hour.

We have forbidden the children to take photos or make videos of the crossing, or the folks back home will be angry!

The sun is climbing higher, and we fear that the flow of the stream will increase rapidly as the ice melts faster. Alok decides to stay on his side of the crossing while we visit the glacier and return, lest it become too difficult to cross over and provide an anchor on our way back.

A sprint to the mouth of the Pindari Glacier, wonder at its monstrous bulk and form, at the continuous rivulets of mud and stone slithering down at the sides of the snout, some pictures, and a rush back to the stream where our guide waits patiently; the process takes up almost an hour.

We cross back in the same manner, taking much lesser time.

Then we stand to attention with the stream and glacier at our back and sing the song of the school most of us studied in, followed by the national anthem of India.

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We descend to our cars in two days. Afzal promises to build a dwelling on the slopes just before the Glacier.

I am not really very well; I've lost my appetite and am finding difficulty in walking. Jannat forces me to eat. Jashan falls in beside me and takes me down at a good pace, for which father can be weak before his little girl!

We meet a man driving a small flock of sheep up the path. We greet him and he compliments us on having gone up. He tells us that he too has a job in Ghaziabad, a huge, crowded, bustling, unsafe city adjoining Delhi, but he likes to come back home because “my village is more beautiful than heaven!”

Jashan and I agree.

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Judda and I have come back with a deep feeling of fulfilment, secure in the knowledge that the young men and women who went with us have broad shoulders and strong minds, that they feel compassion, that they can help, that they value fun, that they can bear the weight of all the ills that will befall them, that they can shoulder responsibility, that they will ford all the rivers that they have to, and come out shining on the other side.

We are all back at our places of work or study or whatever life has in store for us. But we have felt the gentle breeze of Paradise in our hearts, the Eternal Snows loom large if we close our eyes, we have dissolved once into the miracle of the falling waters.

As for me, I have felt the need to die every moment, and make way for life yet to come, to live anew each hour and let the ghosts of the past bury themselves. I face upstream, and care not for what lies behind as a river rages a few metres behind my back.

“Zeina Glo brings you the radiant glow of inner peace, good health and attendant beauty.

Zeina Glo helps you strip off layers of inhibitions, hesitation, and cynicism, allowing your thoughts and emotions to flow freely.

Zeina Glo helps to douse the flames of insecurity and guilt, to open the windows of mind and body to the cool fresh breeze of love.

Zeina Glo encourages you to spread inner peace, good health, radiance, exuberance, warmth, joy and the glow from your inner being.

Zeina Glo brings the beauty of your own thoughts back to you!!”

For, questions, criticism or advice, please post comments here, or write to zeinaglo@rediffmail.com or zeinaglow@gmail.com

PINDARI - 1

PROMISE OF PARADISE

The curtain of moss suspended from a little overhang of rock fascinates; the drops of water running about it in two directions on their way down mesmerise. I cup my hand to drink a little bit of the miracle.

For eight days, I drink from almost every little spring, stream, rivulet, waterfall and dripping moss curtain that we walk by or cross. The water is sweet in a way never experienced before. Much of the way the Pindar River rages and roars nearby; and I drink from her, too. Sometimes her roar drowns our voices and numbs our thoughts; at other times she is a distant rush that could be mistaken for wind in the trees, and the mind rejoices in reaching out to her. She is kind, she is fair, she is just, she is all heart; and she is beautiful. All of us sit and listen to her at some time or the other; most of us even speak back.

Small streams tumbling down the mountains greet us even before we start walking, and once we stop our cars to drink. Away from the cities, we drive through a few small towns and leave our vehicles in a little hamlet called Saung. It strikes true in each heart that we can safely leave two cars by the roadside for eight to ten days with no worries. Yes, we have left the cities far behind.

We walk. It is short but steep. The weight of the rucksacks is new upon our shoulders and the climb new to our muscles. The children are excited. They are brothers, sisters and friends, between the ages of 14 and 20. Fourteen year old Jashan leads up the steep path like a mountain goat. The expression on her face and the way she carries herself allays the doubts of us elders. A proud parent is quick to flash her photo on the Facebook! In the days to come, she will prove to be among the sturdiest and always be in the leading group.

A hill woman passing by hands a little branch full of wild berries to the slowest one of us. The tangy bitter-sweet taste refreshes and infuses a burst of energy.

Wooden bridges over singing brooks. Sheep that answer when Younger Raunaq calls. Stone houses. Smiling women who reply in voices that could carry far across the valleys like the ring of cowbells. Excited camera-wielders. Elder Raunaq posing for a ‘natural’ photo with two little boys perched on his broad shoulders. Two friendly men who are our guides. Two old brothers feeling reassured that we did the right thing by planning this trip.

The children gel as they never have before. They need only a few minutes before they start playing and running around.

The next morning’s group photo at Loharkhet shows happy faces rearing to go.

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A long, stiff climb. The path is cobbled, and one wonders at the effort put in to pile up flat stones for kilometres on end. It serves the small villages and settlements. Halfway up a grassy slope, a weathered woman sells tea and Maggi noodles with a smile and gentle conversation. She walks more than seven kilometres to be at her little shop and goes home in the evening. It is the best Maggi we have ever had. The children explore and play around. Jannat practises how to play a flute. Barkat has a hunting knife that keeps him busy.

Water flows in thin rivulets, sometimes branching out into a web, then coming together again. One stoops to drink from the ground, bends to drink from the mountainside, and looks upwards in wonder. The highest point of the hill seems to be in sight, and it is lush green, so where is the water coming from? One wonders at the intricacies of the rock shelves below that guide the water in and out of the ground.

By the time we reach the stone marker for a German trekker who died here, we see that the rhododendrons, tall trees with big red flowers that grow brightly on the lower hills, are stunted and spread more widely. The annual winters are severe and they grow afresh when the snow melts.

“PETER KOST (GERMANY) *IO.08.1944 +03.06.2000 YOUR PARADISE IS HERE THANK YOU FOR ALL”

The idea of seeing paradise starts to take germ in our minds.

Lizards, flowers, insects, trees, meadows, wooden bridges. The top of the hill is an elusive goal that gives way to another top and then another and so on forever. A tough, steep climb; a little temple at the top and then down down down to Dhakuri nestled away in a vast patch of rolling green luxurious grass. Everyone collapses on the grass, till the insects start stinging and we get on with settling down. Barkat cares so much for his little sister. And Afzal coolly leaves Naba to Judde Tayaji, the eldest of the group, and as patient as all the generations of farmers who have looked skywards for rain.

We are afforded a view that makes one’s heart soar towards the distant snows; a wide sweep of the Greater Himalayas. A memorial stands to climbers who lost their lives on that distant clearly visible face of Maiktoli peak. One of the deceased was the ‘ustaad’ or guru, the teacher, of our guide, Alok. New respect.

We are joined here by a black Bhutia dog. The breed has a reputation for ferocity, but he is gentle. The kids feed him and play with him. Tayaji names him ‘Kaalu’. Down in the plains, Poorva would jump onto the nearest piece of furniture to get away from a dog, here Kaalu teaches her to shake hands.

Like the previous evening, the kids go out to explore, then get back to handstands, running around and push-ups. Abhay and Prateek wrestle each other to the ground. We lied to Abhay; he wanted to stay home and watch FIFA, we told him it was just a 6-day trip. It would actually be a couple of days more.

No electricity. Batteries and range in cell phones die out, and we are relieved of hanging on to them all the time.

Night falls. Dumb charades. We experience the first night of awesome tales told by Naba. She introduces us to a concept called ‘basu babes’.

The morning group photos try to capture the distant snows in the background. They include Kaalu.

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Kaalu joins us as we start out on a gentle walk till the last village on the way up, and remains with us till we get back to our cars. Wooden bridges with the previous decayed rafters still lying below them span streams that flow clear and gentle. We stand behind a small waterfall and try to catch the spray.

From everywhere, we drink.

The cobbled path ends when we cross the village. The surrounding wilderness beckons. An abundance of water from little brooks everywhere. We heat it on a wood stove and everyone bathes. A lamb is bought from the village Khati. The children watch it being butchered, and get a new perspective about the meat on their plates.

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We follow the riverbed. The Pindar dances and frolics and rushes beside us. Little streams and rivulets join it at every few paces. We are farmers, and we feel a deep sense of well-being at the water perennially rushing down to the plains and the paddy fields and filling the ground from below with unseen lakes and rivers. It is no less than a miracle.

When the river bends to flow on our side, we have to climb steeply up the mountainside, cross screes and slides over trails a few inches wide, and climb down to the river when it has crossed over to the far side again. They are trying, these sojourns up and down over dangerous ground. But they are thrilling, too.

The river invites play. At one place it cuts in a wide arc and leaves a sandy beach on our side. We are drawn to it irresistibly. We drink from the river and run along. Later, on the way back, the kids will find quicksand at the edge of the water here and make videos that will enchant everyone for life.

Water on the opposite hill comes down in a series of falls for a thousand feet. The stream we are crossing must also surely look the same from the opposite hill. It is fulfilling, it inspires Faith, faith that all is well and the Master-Plan is awesome. A realization of completeness dawns, and today one feels that it would be alright to move on, having been thus exposed to the Master’s handiwork; everything is as it ought to be and the world can easily get along.

Our guides, Manoj and Alok, have carried lunch for all, and we have it in the company of one of the cascades of water.

Two rivers tumbling down from glaciers meet, and one must be crossed over a bridge which is two planks wide and is supported by a couple of logs. Gazing at the water below might just make one giddy and lose balance. I cross over, take off my pack, and stand on a rock downstream, ready to plunge into the rapids in the remote chance of a mishap. It makes me smile, this uncaring abandon towards life.

We come back to the rivers after leaving our things at the night halt. We hear them, we talk to them, we feel them, we respect them, we photograph them, and then we go up again.

The view affords a peek at Nanda Devi. The children discover Thapa, in his forties, with a physique and an exercise regime that leaves them open-mouthed. He was a state body-building champion once. He has quit the world below to be in the mountains he loves. Our next morning picture includes him. It also includes a young man whom we call Saurabh, for a likeness back in school, who served us so well at Dwali. He even ran a generator to let us charge our phones and cameras.

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.............The story is continued in the next post, PINDARI - 2.

“Zeina Glo brings you the radiant glow of inner peace, good health and attendant beauty.

Zeina Glo helps you strip off layers of inhibitions, hesitation, and cynicism, allowing your thoughts and emotions to flow freely.

Zeina Glo helps to douse the flames of insecurity and guilt, to open the windows of mind and body to the cool fresh breeze of love.

Zeina Glo encourages you to spread inner peace, good health, radiance, exuberance, warmth, joy and the glow from your inner being.

Zeina Glo brings the beauty of your own thoughts back to you!!”

For, questions, criticism or advice, please post comments here, or write to zeinaglo@rediffmail.com or zeinaglow@gmail.com