Green Kashmir, Brown Ladakh

 

Green Kashmir, Brown Ladakh

Leh diary -1

Last time I had said that I would be travelling for some days, and travel I did for a week, in the rough terrains of our guardian hills/mountains in the north.

Now, I am not among the people who risk their lives, limbs or any other part of their anatomy for the sake of fun, excitement or adventure. My endeavour is to preserve whatever I was born with, so much so that a run or a game of badminton seems like an adventure to me. You can well imagine why therefore, driving around Leh was an almost-expedition for me.

Mani who is of course, on the other extreme on the adventure spectrum, promised that it was a once-in-a-lifetime-experience and we must go before our bodies start complaining of wear and tear and one is unable to go.The minus point was that two days was not enough time to prepare myself for this venture after my languorous Kolkata trip.

Those who have seen Leh would tell you how exciting the route is, how beautiful are the various scenes and the great shopping experience. I need not do that. You can know as much as you want to from various sources, especially Google baba about it. There are route maps available and the travel agents/tour operators have experienced drivers if you choose to be driven. For a fee the operator takes care of payment of your green/environment fee of Rs 400 too. You may recall that this summer the Ladakh government had done away with the Inner line Permit for Indian travelers and introduced a green fee.

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/travel/travel-news/ladakh-removes-inner-line-permit-system-for-domestic-tourists/as85172181.cms

My effort would be to share with you (for whatever it is worth) merely my own experience and observations.

Two days before we had to travel, Sarthak handed me a box of medicines which a doctor friend had given the young couple for their Leh trip earlier this summer. He said we should start taking Diamox (acetazolemide) 2-3 days prior to the trip to acclimatize our bodies for the high altitude. Our friend Dr Rajeev too seemed satisfied with the prescription.

And that was the first step of my adventure. As it rained outside, I started to clean, wash and partially pack the house for our absence in the following days and took merely a half of the prescribed tablet. I was feeling dizzy, the skin on my lips, face and hands tingled and I felt strangely drugged. Unable to do anything about it, I sat down to let the feeling pass. Every activity postponed, I immersed myself in a crossword (my mental faculties were working fine). When I started to feel better after a couple of hours, I tried to recall the reason and naturally that medicine was the suspect.

My doctor friend Sunayana confirmed but advised me to keep taking the tablet for at least five days and that the symptoms would disappear with time. Don’t you ever doubt that a few milligrams of compressed salt compound without any sensors, or with no marked routes within our bodies, would know where to go?

But you need not worry because nobody among the people I talked to, had a similar experience. Believe me, some of them did not even know that they should be taking any precaution about going to a high altitude area where breathlessness or water retention could be issues.

Living in a city 404 feet above sea level, the five of us decided to get our bodies slowly used to the altitude and instead of landing directly in Leh (above 8000 feet), we flew to Srinagar (5200 feet) first. The body used to heat and humidity of the plains, can react to the sudden change in temperature but more importantly low oxygen, so biking and bus/car journeys are also good options.

The flight was uneventful if you ignore the poori-subzi bundles that the 12-strong Gujarati group passed from one to another in various rows followed by a box of laddoos. Not only did the aircraft smell of food throughout the short flight, but the mashed jeera-aloo (cumin-tempered potatoes) splattered on the floor extracted a lot of sympathy for the cleaners.

Though the massive scale of rapid antigen test on people arriving at Srinagar airport was impressive, I hope the authorities get the tarmac on the airport repaired and relaid. It was not only in a state of disrepair but the walk to the terminal was very long, and to me a long walk in hot sun does not give the impression of welcome to the city. Can they also please put up a few benches/seats in the shade for people outside the airport?

Houseboats on Dal Lake

As in all other places, Covid has been as unkind to tourism in Srinagar too. The rows of houseboats and shikaras (small open boats) on Dal lake lay vacant and the boatmen with creased foreheads looked expectantly at very newcomer. Another time maybe! Devoid of the luxury of time, we immediately piled into the car and drove ahead.

The first thought that came to mind at seeing the lush green hills, the slowly meandering river with its pebbled banks and the general sense of quiet was- isn’t it strange that when we look at a serene, pristine place, we say God lives here? Why? Doesn’t he like living in crowded, bustling, tech-rich, high-voltage cities?

From the moving vehicle, it took me a few seconds to realise that the brown, small, even round things spread on sheets on the pavements, were not potatoes, but walnuts for sale.

People in the hills are simple and large-hearted. On the way Pratibha with her sharp eyesight, saw a tree on the roadside laden with red apples and asked the driver to stop and check if the owner could sell us some. The teenage owner went down himself to pick the fruit, brought it but refused to take the money saying Tourist se paise nahi  lete, unhi ke liye hain (We do not take money from the tourists, these are for them only). The forbidden fruit- sweet and sour and as fresh as can be, had never tasted better.

Feasting our eyes on the heaven that Mughal Emperor Jahangir had commented about, we drove for a few hours to Sonmarg to spend the night. The place we stayed at was in the lap of beautiful hills. The one thing I just have to mention was the door bell- the recorded voice said in Urdu- assalam alaikum, baraaye meharbaani darwaza kholiye (Greetings, be kind enough to open the door). If somebody was that polite to me in real life, I would not mind going up and down to open the door!

The clear blue sky next sunny morning was encouragement enough to drive to Leh. River Suru flowed quietly along the winding road. We crossed Zojila Pass and halted at Gumri to pay our respects at the memorial to the warriors who had made the supreme sacrifice in 1947 to win back the pass from the marauding tribesmen and Pakistani soldiers. My only regret was that the three Innovas with MH number plates, carrying 12 young men chose to ignore my unsolicited advice and went ahead. They were from the generation next to mine and perhaps did not care how parents of hundreds of us were forced to leave their homes and hearts behind to start life afresh in a new environment.

                                                                                                         Photo: Gyanesh Tewari

After Zojila pass the landscape suddenly changed as if switched from one frame to another in a motion film. The green tree-covered hills turned into a huge expanse of brown.

Photo: Gyanesh Tewari

Our next stop, naturally, was the Kargil War Memorial. The sun shone brightly on the peach stone and tricolours waved and fluttered with the wind. The stones of all those who have laid down their lives (till as late as May this year) pushing the enemy soldiers infiltrating into our territory, told tales of their courage and valour.

We all remember Kargil War (May to July 1999) was fought between India and Pakistan to wrest back Tiger Hill and Tololing features from the latter.

Believe me sometimes I am happy that films are shown in the dark because the surge of emotions that the short film about the war, shown there brought, was my private homage to all the brave-hearts. Mr (Amitabh) Bachchan’s booming voice narrated the story as the visuals and old videos retold what most of us are somewhat familiar with.

Pensive and subdued, we drove further to a viewpoint where men climbed up the steps to the point from where you can see the LOC. (I had to avoid the sun.) They said they saw a bunker and some people moving about at a mazaar (saint’s tomb) in our neighbouring country.

We went around the small city of Kargil (situated in the Zanskar range of the Himalayas) and as it was afternoon, we stopped for chai- pakori (tea and vegetable fritters) at a small empty hotel. The owner was the only Hindu in that Muslim-dominated street and everyone including the Muslim owner, had always supported him. But business had been dull this year due to Covid. He also said that the 500-strong film crew of Aamir Khan starrer- Laal Singh Chaddha which had visited the town for shooting did not bring much business to the small eateries and low-budget hotels because they had their own caterers and the stars naturally preferred star hotels even if they were far away.

We continued our road journey further to Leh. By now young men - single or in groups, riding solo or with men/women pillion-riders, had started making their appearance on the winding roads.

We stayed the night at a small guest house run by two sisters and then began my tryst with a whole lot of aloo-eating. Little did I know that the other members of our team were great potato-lovers who wanted it for every meal every day! Step aside all ye sandwiches, cake, thekua (a flour-sweet popular in Bihar), chips and namkeen that they carried, it was time for some serious dal-chawal (lentils and rice) and aloo ki bhujia (pan-fried potatoes)!   

(To be continued)

                                                                                                       -Anupama S Mani