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!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
