As a passionate follower of India’s foreign policy, I perceive the perennial
conundrum facing us is whether India should wield its ‘soft power’ by
enhancing its reputation as one of stoic economic powerhouse attracting
enormous FDIs or practice Realpolitik to counter a rising China to its east. I
take the liberty here to analyze which side the camel should sit.
The strong and stable economy which has its genesis in the 1992 reforms
juxtaposed with rising tensions on all its borders pushed Realpolitik of Nehru
into the backseat. The globalized and interconnected world economy gave birth
to the term ‘soft power’ as coined by erudite Joseph Nye. India has been an
exceptional example of the term. The nuclear embargo melting away is proof
enough. The emergence of IBSA and BRICS into prominence talks volumes of
soft power centers in today’s geopolitics.
But is it serving our purpose? On one hand, by virtue of Indian helping hand in
Afghanistan, we are expected to play a major role in coming times as the
NATO’s ISAF vacates the region. Bangladesh is mellowing down giving India its
due place in regional politics. Increased investment in East Africa is a good
step to find firm feet in emerging African economies. But China’s caveats are
still irking South Block albeit it being the largest trading partner of India.
China’s continued all weather support to Pakistan and infrastructure
development in PoK, especially Gilgistan-Baltistan, doesn’t muster trust and
confidence. India has done well to take a leaf out of the Realpolitik handbook
and poke China by venturing into oil exploration offshore Vietnam in South
China Sea just to initiate a reaction and give them a taste of their own
medicine.
India would do well to combine its two forces and forge Soft power and
Realpolitik into a well balanced yet forceful foreign policy. It would strengthen
its ‘Look East Policy’ and register its might in South and South East Asia.
Strategically expediting to get hold of membership in Shanghai Cooperation
Organization (SCO) would give the MEA the impetus to register a strong
presence in Central Asia- where the world would converge for ‘energy
diplomacy’ in foreseeable future.
The upcoming vote on Palestine would be a litmus test for South Block; but
supporting Palestine’s bid would make the announcement that India has an
independent foreign policy. It’s time we were given our due at the world stage
and stopped reeling under the constant extremist attacks. This is an opportune
time to start our campaign for a permanent seat in the Security Council with
élan and it’s time to start looking outwards too because India definitely has
much to offer to the world unequivocally for the benefit of all.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Indian Spring or Monsoon Raga?
If Arab spring is blossoming flowers of protests on streets of Arab world, it has also caught Indian masses’ imagination. The seeds of discontentment with corruption in power corridors are common to these protests. But this spring looks more like a wild forest fire clearing the woods of the trees gone bad and inharmonious with their surroundings giving rise to a hope of a consequent spring in Arab world- a spring which would bear the flowers of harmony, comity and equitable progress!
The problem with the concept of ‘spring’ is that it gives way to fall. It isn’t permanent and is a nature’s way to recycle. What the protestors are looking for is a permanent burial of repression and corruption by the rulers. Recycling is long overdue. The ruling autocrats are akin to Eucalyptus- self serving repressing species. Nature hasn’t rooted them out, so the people have to do it.
But the Indian recipe for mass movement is different. It has non-violence as a core ingredient. Neither is the regime here repressive nor autocratic. Unlike Arab states, we didn’t have emergency imposed upon us and we have elected government. Unlike there, a volcano didn’t erupt due to a mishap; rather an underflow of simmering lava has just surfaced onto the streets. This has been flowing for six decades now, perhaps longer than that. An exponential increase in the educated working class led by a practicing Gandhian facilitated this uprising. The youths have been prima facie the face of the protests. There’s no doubt that the social networking web has played a huge part in creating indigestion in corrupt leaders’ pot bellies.
So how does the Arab Spring compare with its Indian counterpart and where does each spring lead to? The mood for one among the citizens is precisely the same- one of ache and agony upon seeing their own people repressing them for decades. Their wealth inflating at the cost of glaring socio-economic divides in a burgeoning population with increasing marginalization of poor and unfortunate ones. The patience of peoples both sides of the Red Sea is rapidly running out.
The media and social networking have acted as catalysts in these outbreaks and quite responsibly too. They have not only mustered global support for the agitators but also facilitated free and open debate bringing each and every citizen to the table. The opposition parties have acted with restraint and not jumped the guns with their copybook opportunism- be it Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt or BJP and Left parties in India. This bodes well for strengthening of democracy.
The major difference to protests in Arab world and India is the character it holds unto itself. While the trigger was also different everywhere-from a teenager self-immolating in Tunisia to a septageneranian going to fast in India- the regimes’ reaction was also quite suppressive in the Middle East. Libya and Syria are glaring examples.
However different and disparate the protests may seem, the endgame must be the same and must usher in an era of deliverance and freedom to each individual. All the states engulfed had been freed from foreign domination at some point in the last century. But the ensuing freedom proved to be a mere illusion as their own people enacted the same hideous scenes in their lavish theatres with the masses as their puppets. It’s time that the rulers stopped playing Gods and became one with their people.
This must be the beginning of a journey to root out malpractices and empowerment of one and all. In India, this must now be coupled with electoral reforms. But the citizens must also ensure the catharsis of corruption from their selves and pledge not to bribe and break rules henceforth. After all, Gandhiji believed, “Be the change you want to see.”
The problem with the concept of ‘spring’ is that it gives way to fall. It isn’t permanent and is a nature’s way to recycle. What the protestors are looking for is a permanent burial of repression and corruption by the rulers. Recycling is long overdue. The ruling autocrats are akin to Eucalyptus- self serving repressing species. Nature hasn’t rooted them out, so the people have to do it.
But the Indian recipe for mass movement is different. It has non-violence as a core ingredient. Neither is the regime here repressive nor autocratic. Unlike Arab states, we didn’t have emergency imposed upon us and we have elected government. Unlike there, a volcano didn’t erupt due to a mishap; rather an underflow of simmering lava has just surfaced onto the streets. This has been flowing for six decades now, perhaps longer than that. An exponential increase in the educated working class led by a practicing Gandhian facilitated this uprising. The youths have been prima facie the face of the protests. There’s no doubt that the social networking web has played a huge part in creating indigestion in corrupt leaders’ pot bellies.
So how does the Arab Spring compare with its Indian counterpart and where does each spring lead to? The mood for one among the citizens is precisely the same- one of ache and agony upon seeing their own people repressing them for decades. Their wealth inflating at the cost of glaring socio-economic divides in a burgeoning population with increasing marginalization of poor and unfortunate ones. The patience of peoples both sides of the Red Sea is rapidly running out.
The media and social networking have acted as catalysts in these outbreaks and quite responsibly too. They have not only mustered global support for the agitators but also facilitated free and open debate bringing each and every citizen to the table. The opposition parties have acted with restraint and not jumped the guns with their copybook opportunism- be it Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt or BJP and Left parties in India. This bodes well for strengthening of democracy.
The major difference to protests in Arab world and India is the character it holds unto itself. While the trigger was also different everywhere-from a teenager self-immolating in Tunisia to a septageneranian going to fast in India- the regimes’ reaction was also quite suppressive in the Middle East. Libya and Syria are glaring examples.
However different and disparate the protests may seem, the endgame must be the same and must usher in an era of deliverance and freedom to each individual. All the states engulfed had been freed from foreign domination at some point in the last century. But the ensuing freedom proved to be a mere illusion as their own people enacted the same hideous scenes in their lavish theatres with the masses as their puppets. It’s time that the rulers stopped playing Gods and became one with their people.
This must be the beginning of a journey to root out malpractices and empowerment of one and all. In India, this must now be coupled with electoral reforms. But the citizens must also ensure the catharsis of corruption from their selves and pledge not to bribe and break rules henceforth. After all, Gandhiji believed, “Be the change you want to see.”
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Of three spent souls and two spent soles!
Disclaimer: If upon reading this one gets a rosy feeling that’s coz the thorns have been surgically removed. And if one feels enthused and a sudden urge to scale these dizzying heights takes over, the author should not be held accountable coz he knows the pain one has to undergo before one conquers these heights. Ouch! Finger cramp!
Expedition has root in ‘expedite’- the word I least associate my self with; especially when it involves scaling heights of 11000 feet that too after travelling for a whole day! No sir, not my cup of tea I would say. And yet, I defied them, the gods. We became titans overnight!
It was one of those things which one needs to do more than one wants to do. This poor chap had been buried in books for some time now and needed to challenge himself physically with a bit of change in air. So it was arranged that we would grace the Dhaluadhar mountains with our presence in the holy city of Dharmashala, a city more Tibetan than Indian.
So on the pious night of 15th June of MMXI, we left for Pathankot, a trijunction of Punjab, J&K and Himachal. By the noon of 16th, we found our retreat-Hotel Pine Valley- which true to its name, it was. After much deliberation, we postponed our ascend to Triund, a supposedly 3 hours trek (which we officially covered in 5 hours) which in hindsight was the last rational and logical decision we took on the trip all by ourselves!
Dharmashala, as the name suggests is a religious retreat for people in exile both forced and self imposed. At a height of 2100m it serves as a convenient place to have District headquarters of Kangra district. Just 3 kms from it (9 by road mind you) is McLeodganj named so thoughtfully after Sir Donald Macleod, Lt.Governor of erstwhile Punjab. In the series of many, the first lesson we learnt- one can’t just ‘walk’ to McLeodganj. One does need four wheels which we realized after walking halfway and making full payment! Alighting in front of the Dalai Lama temple or locally called as Tsuglag Khang, we had had our first taste of the local Tibetan flavor. The temple also serves as a hostel for young monks studying scriptures there. It strangely was a calming experience in spite of the voracious vocal writings on the wall all around McLeodganj screaming for Tibetan freedom. ‘Resistance’ would be the last word one would associate with these uber cool and peaceful Tibetan refugees.
After showing off some knowledge on Tibet’s importance, I found myself relaxing in a restaurant aptly named ‘Tibetan Kitchen’. Except Pampam, who had a tasteless meal of ‘dunno-what’, we all belched satisfyingly. And deciding that we could not cover any other spot before sunset, we decided to cover the agenda of the day- to buy a pair of shoes for moa! As was completely expected of me, I did forget my shoes in Delhi at Deepkya’s place. Since one can’t trek in shoddy sandals, I had to buy a supplement. So we got down to Dharmashala and I bought a decent looking pair and we called it a day.
The judgment day arrived and we set forth on our mission of the trip, the raison d’être of the whole extravaganza- a climb to Triund at about 2900m. We had booked a room up there a day before primarily because none of us wanted to get washed away in a flash flood while we are fast asleep in the night. Also the owner didn’t issue us any tent for he cared for his tents more than 4 useless lives!
Anyhow, undeterred and much more secure, we were ceremoniously dropped at Gallu Devi temple some 5 kms from McLeod by the most efficient driver I’ve ever seen-Uttamji. A very ‘uttam’ driver he was. So at 11.15 hours on 17th of June we commenced our climb-the climb to conquer our inner demons, the climb to break our shackles of everyday mundane things, the climb to our victory over self. But in the end, it proved much more than that.
The clouds were gurgling around us in conspiracy and wrapping everything in obscurity. A mist was gradually descending numbing us to a deep sleep. But deciding otherwise we moved forward and upward. As we got higher, the mist disappeared and we could see with greater clarity. The analogies to life could not have been any more befitting! The opportunities to capture the landscape of earth and of mind weren’t missed and umpteenth of lifetime memories were made. After about an hour into the ascent, persistent rain drops turned into heavy downpour. But it wasn’t heavy enough to dampen our spirits now. We were one with the clouds moving fluidly on the narrow path!
We were drenched to the core when we reached the mid-way shop taking a much needed break. The cuppa tea and maggi proved elixirs of life. The shower had almost stopped as we resumed our sojourn. The black clouds surely lost their weight but our jeans gained like a pound! The wet denim begged to slip away which each one of us fought hard enough. As predicted by the local wizard, Durinder Sharma of the Magic View shop, cruel sun was soon awake and bright, roasting us in our skins. But this soon got sidelined as the first of the two heartbreaking tragedies of Deepak’s occurred- his left shoe’s sole rebelled and broke off! He somehow managed to keep it on with my handkerchief (sniff).
Despite all the evil ploys of Mr. Murphy, exactly at 16.25 hours, we accomplished out feat. After 5 hours of arduous trek, we were rewarded with one of the greatest sights I’ve ever seen. It’s indescribable what we all felt at that moment. The overwhelming snow clad mountains in front of us cured our doubts and exhaustion. It was every penny’s worth to drag oneself for 5 hours up to 10,000 feet.
The gentle evening sun shone everything brightly and made them lively. The green grass and blue skies were breathtakingly beautiful. We truly were in Mother Nature’s lap! It was divine and blissful to witness such beauty.
We found our sanctum for the night another 50 feet up on the slope. Lighting our load, we soaked the atmosphere with a strong pahadi glassful of tea. We found our spot amongst rocks a bit down the slope. Sitting there, we felt we could stare at these mountains for eternity which I believe we would have had the 100 odd sheep not intruded our territory. Deepak held a complete photoshoot for the obliging ones.
As hard as we tried to stop time by sitting idle, the sun did set behind the peaks, and we gathered around for the bon fire! Three guys- a father and his twins- occupied the other room of the hut. After introductions, we found out that the seven of us were engineers! Coincidence? Or we really are churning out engineers more than any other professional? Heaven knows.
With the logs catching fire, our imaginations did too and we opened our bottle of rum! Four men on an alive mountain chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!! The whole place lit up with bright conversations and bursts of laughter. Hope the mountain gods forgave our intrusion in their deep slumber.
As the light faded, stars appeared both in the sky and on the landscape. The city lights of Dharmashala and McLeodganj reminded me of Neil Young’s ‘thousand points of lights’. It was an almost perfect night for stargazing. Almost because a full moon rose a little later. We dined an anonymous meal as we weren’t able to locate our vegetables and rice and it was difficult to navigate in a plateful. Anyhow, hunger made it easier to gorge and make a feast of it.
With bright moon up in the valley and the last log turning into ash, we sat down for our majestic ‘mehfil’! Since it was a full moon, the first ghazal naturally was, ‘kal chaudhvin ki raat thi..’! We crooned all our favorite numbers mostly of Kishore da! At the peak of the mehfil, while singing, ‘pyar humein kis mod pe le aaya’; we were joined by voices from down the slope and by the dogs too! The song has a universal appeal! Since we planned to trek to Snow line the next day, we retired early. Squeezing on a double bed for four people didn’t prove to be much of a challenge for our tired bodies and minds.
The challenge next day was attending to Mother Nature’s call, out in the wild open. Giving solace to each other Deepak and I set forth for this most essential task in a human's life. Finding our respective spots amongst humongous rocks behind our hut, we attended to business. Clearing this hurdle, we broke our fast with a warm plate of omelets. At 0830 hours, we started for our next target-Snow line. Another 500 feet to climb before the clouds gather again and alight in our way.
But Murphy had another cruel trick up his sleeve. Poor Deepak lost second of his shoe halfway. His titanic had completely hit the iceberg. If it were not for the handkerchiefs, his ship too would have sunk deep. But he managed brilliantly, fought valiantly and trod beautifully on those vicious paths. We reached Snow line at 1000 hours. It was directly in front of the fabled Ilaka glacier. Unfortunately we could set our eyes upon it as it was covered with clouds. But again we found ourselves sitting and admiring nature’s beauty mesmerized.
Just then Pampam dear swung into action. His ears had caught the sound of a waterfall like a hound! He was a man possessed and pleaded to go down to the fall. We humored him and let him assess the time it would take as we had already planned to descend down to Dharmashala in the noon. I also got down with him and we saw a beautiful blue pond down the slope. Pampam was super enthused now. In a momentary lapse I assessed it would hardly take 15 minutes to get down, which later proved to be a gross under-estimation. Thank god I am not an investor! So leaving Deepak with his camera and broken shoes, we started descending to the blue pond as if there was a mermaid waiting for us there. After 25 minutes of slipping, jumping and sliding I got to a point where we had to drop about 20 feet. Already regretting our decision, this drop proved to be the final nail in the coffin and I told Pampam and Punter to return from there itself. What followed for another half an hour, consumed us to our core. We experienced true mountain climbing with carefully choosing boulders to step on and climb up. The whole time the theme of Lakshya was playing in my head. Huffing and puffing we got to the only shop at snow line and prepared to return with three spent souls and two spent soles!
What transpired next did not inspire us but only perspired us! We were greeted with loud thundering (it was as if Captain Haddock had cast a spell of ten thousand thundering typhoons on’em). I wished to shout like the amiable Captain but I was too scared. Heavy showers again slowed our pace and increased our heartbeats. Drenched and dripping we made it to the cottage. But clouds of serious doubts were looming large over our plans to get down to our hotel. So we waited for the rain gods to heed to our prayers, which they did. As we finished munching on Maggi, rain had almost stopped. So we packed and bade goodbye to Triund.
As we started, a black stray dog accompanied us. We named him Julio. If he was expecting some cookies from us, he didn’t get any. But he still looked after us till we reached the mid point-the Magic View shop. Rains had again picked up after a brief respite as we had started down. So by the time, we reached the shop, we were again soaked. While sipping the tea, we introduced ourselves to a Korean couple who were happy to return from the mid way.
We resumed as we thought we had regained enough strength. But that proved to be a mental mirage. For next 90 minutes, we were out of all our winds. Deepak and I were revising Friends and Andaz Apna Apna or else we would have collapsed like Lehman brothers. We could only feel our tongues moving, rest were mechanical motions. Pampam had long gone ahead with Punter. The last half hour brought a respite from rain and a glorious rainbow was behind us. The sight of Gallu temple again lifted our spirits. As we reached the temple we could see Uttamji waiting for us.
This brought an amazing trip to a beautiful end. Or so we thought! Murphy always plays his cards in the end. As we entered our hotel foyer, the receptionist asked us one question which we all dread to hear, “Has any of you left his wallet at Triund?” As we all had ours except Deepak, he frantically searched for it but in vain. Then it dawned upon us that jokingly we were asking each other while getting down that we won’t turn back for anything. I had even gone as far as claiming that even if the love of my life was up there, I won’t climb back! But as Murphy would have it, we did leave something up there. As I am writing this, it hasn’t been returned to its owner albeit many assurances.
We devoted the next day to local sightseeing in Dharmashala. We paid a visit to Norbulingka temple sprawling over acres. It was a beautiful complex with multitudes of photo opportunities which obviously weren’t missed. After sipping Tibetan herbal tea with great difficulty, we left for a quick visit to tea plantations. I have been drinking tea all my life, and visiting a tea garden kind of completed my habit! I wish I could call myself a ‘teatotaller’ now!
We reached the railway station 3 hours before our train’s arrival; so we killed time in a nearby theka. The conversations over beer mugs completed our journey as we strengthened our bonds the manly way! The late night gossips in the train refreshed our memories of our school days which we never got any time for in the hills. We all slept with a smile on our faces.
If this were a bollywood flick, the credits would be rolling by now with probably a Sholay like theme in the background. But our lives are no movies. One last adventure was left, Murphy’s cruelest trick. As we were crossing bridge after bridge at the New Delhi station, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten my, wait for it, wallet! If Ceaser were there, he would not even ask me, Et tu Deva? How on earth, I thought. Then I remembered I had kept it on the upper berth while I was getting down. I had completely forgotten about it. All kinds of thoughts flashed in my mind as I was running madly on the bridge. 2 wallets on the trip, a failure rate of 50%. I had mentally rung up my dad, thought of barging into DRM’s office, catching hold of the attendant and scoffing it out of him. I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw the train still on the platform. As I passed a few coaches, I glanced that none of the sheets had been removed. I again breathed easy and entered the train. As I reached my berth, I saw my wallet perched on the upper berth almost saying with a tear in its eyes, “How could you?” I grabbed it and jumped out of the train as if nothing had happened and promising never to leave it again.
I am not sure if we completed a circle or went into a hyperbole, but the journey was finished; the one we undertook to break the monotony of life, the one I took to rest my mind and chill out- it was the best chilling, literally and figuratively, that I’ve done in the recent past. The catharsis of drudgery and slavery was successful. We conquered the mountains, we conquered ourselves. The cul de sac is now a wide and open road!
Expedition has root in ‘expedite’- the word I least associate my self with; especially when it involves scaling heights of 11000 feet that too after travelling for a whole day! No sir, not my cup of tea I would say. And yet, I defied them, the gods. We became titans overnight!
It was one of those things which one needs to do more than one wants to do. This poor chap had been buried in books for some time now and needed to challenge himself physically with a bit of change in air. So it was arranged that we would grace the Dhaluadhar mountains with our presence in the holy city of Dharmashala, a city more Tibetan than Indian.
So on the pious night of 15th June of MMXI, we left for Pathankot, a trijunction of Punjab, J&K and Himachal. By the noon of 16th, we found our retreat-Hotel Pine Valley- which true to its name, it was. After much deliberation, we postponed our ascend to Triund, a supposedly 3 hours trek (which we officially covered in 5 hours) which in hindsight was the last rational and logical decision we took on the trip all by ourselves!
Dharmashala, as the name suggests is a religious retreat for people in exile both forced and self imposed. At a height of 2100m it serves as a convenient place to have District headquarters of Kangra district. Just 3 kms from it (9 by road mind you) is McLeodganj named so thoughtfully after Sir Donald Macleod, Lt.Governor of erstwhile Punjab. In the series of many, the first lesson we learnt- one can’t just ‘walk’ to McLeodganj. One does need four wheels which we realized after walking halfway and making full payment! Alighting in front of the Dalai Lama temple or locally called as Tsuglag Khang, we had had our first taste of the local Tibetan flavor. The temple also serves as a hostel for young monks studying scriptures there. It strangely was a calming experience in spite of the voracious vocal writings on the wall all around McLeodganj screaming for Tibetan freedom. ‘Resistance’ would be the last word one would associate with these uber cool and peaceful Tibetan refugees.
After showing off some knowledge on Tibet’s importance, I found myself relaxing in a restaurant aptly named ‘Tibetan Kitchen’. Except Pampam, who had a tasteless meal of ‘dunno-what’, we all belched satisfyingly. And deciding that we could not cover any other spot before sunset, we decided to cover the agenda of the day- to buy a pair of shoes for moa! As was completely expected of me, I did forget my shoes in Delhi at Deepkya’s place. Since one can’t trek in shoddy sandals, I had to buy a supplement. So we got down to Dharmashala and I bought a decent looking pair and we called it a day.
The judgment day arrived and we set forth on our mission of the trip, the raison d’être of the whole extravaganza- a climb to Triund at about 2900m. We had booked a room up there a day before primarily because none of us wanted to get washed away in a flash flood while we are fast asleep in the night. Also the owner didn’t issue us any tent for he cared for his tents more than 4 useless lives!
Anyhow, undeterred and much more secure, we were ceremoniously dropped at Gallu Devi temple some 5 kms from McLeod by the most efficient driver I’ve ever seen-Uttamji. A very ‘uttam’ driver he was. So at 11.15 hours on 17th of June we commenced our climb-the climb to conquer our inner demons, the climb to break our shackles of everyday mundane things, the climb to our victory over self. But in the end, it proved much more than that.
The clouds were gurgling around us in conspiracy and wrapping everything in obscurity. A mist was gradually descending numbing us to a deep sleep. But deciding otherwise we moved forward and upward. As we got higher, the mist disappeared and we could see with greater clarity. The analogies to life could not have been any more befitting! The opportunities to capture the landscape of earth and of mind weren’t missed and umpteenth of lifetime memories were made. After about an hour into the ascent, persistent rain drops turned into heavy downpour. But it wasn’t heavy enough to dampen our spirits now. We were one with the clouds moving fluidly on the narrow path!
We were drenched to the core when we reached the mid-way shop taking a much needed break. The cuppa tea and maggi proved elixirs of life. The shower had almost stopped as we resumed our sojourn. The black clouds surely lost their weight but our jeans gained like a pound! The wet denim begged to slip away which each one of us fought hard enough. As predicted by the local wizard, Durinder Sharma of the Magic View shop, cruel sun was soon awake and bright, roasting us in our skins. But this soon got sidelined as the first of the two heartbreaking tragedies of Deepak’s occurred- his left shoe’s sole rebelled and broke off! He somehow managed to keep it on with my handkerchief (sniff).
Despite all the evil ploys of Mr. Murphy, exactly at 16.25 hours, we accomplished out feat. After 5 hours of arduous trek, we were rewarded with one of the greatest sights I’ve ever seen. It’s indescribable what we all felt at that moment. The overwhelming snow clad mountains in front of us cured our doubts and exhaustion. It was every penny’s worth to drag oneself for 5 hours up to 10,000 feet.
The gentle evening sun shone everything brightly and made them lively. The green grass and blue skies were breathtakingly beautiful. We truly were in Mother Nature’s lap! It was divine and blissful to witness such beauty.
We found our sanctum for the night another 50 feet up on the slope. Lighting our load, we soaked the atmosphere with a strong pahadi glassful of tea. We found our spot amongst rocks a bit down the slope. Sitting there, we felt we could stare at these mountains for eternity which I believe we would have had the 100 odd sheep not intruded our territory. Deepak held a complete photoshoot for the obliging ones.
As hard as we tried to stop time by sitting idle, the sun did set behind the peaks, and we gathered around for the bon fire! Three guys- a father and his twins- occupied the other room of the hut. After introductions, we found out that the seven of us were engineers! Coincidence? Or we really are churning out engineers more than any other professional? Heaven knows.
With the logs catching fire, our imaginations did too and we opened our bottle of rum! Four men on an alive mountain chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!! The whole place lit up with bright conversations and bursts of laughter. Hope the mountain gods forgave our intrusion in their deep slumber.
As the light faded, stars appeared both in the sky and on the landscape. The city lights of Dharmashala and McLeodganj reminded me of Neil Young’s ‘thousand points of lights’. It was an almost perfect night for stargazing. Almost because a full moon rose a little later. We dined an anonymous meal as we weren’t able to locate our vegetables and rice and it was difficult to navigate in a plateful. Anyhow, hunger made it easier to gorge and make a feast of it.
With bright moon up in the valley and the last log turning into ash, we sat down for our majestic ‘mehfil’! Since it was a full moon, the first ghazal naturally was, ‘kal chaudhvin ki raat thi..’! We crooned all our favorite numbers mostly of Kishore da! At the peak of the mehfil, while singing, ‘pyar humein kis mod pe le aaya’; we were joined by voices from down the slope and by the dogs too! The song has a universal appeal! Since we planned to trek to Snow line the next day, we retired early. Squeezing on a double bed for four people didn’t prove to be much of a challenge for our tired bodies and minds.
The challenge next day was attending to Mother Nature’s call, out in the wild open. Giving solace to each other Deepak and I set forth for this most essential task in a human's life. Finding our respective spots amongst humongous rocks behind our hut, we attended to business. Clearing this hurdle, we broke our fast with a warm plate of omelets. At 0830 hours, we started for our next target-Snow line. Another 500 feet to climb before the clouds gather again and alight in our way.
But Murphy had another cruel trick up his sleeve. Poor Deepak lost second of his shoe halfway. His titanic had completely hit the iceberg. If it were not for the handkerchiefs, his ship too would have sunk deep. But he managed brilliantly, fought valiantly and trod beautifully on those vicious paths. We reached Snow line at 1000 hours. It was directly in front of the fabled Ilaka glacier. Unfortunately we could set our eyes upon it as it was covered with clouds. But again we found ourselves sitting and admiring nature’s beauty mesmerized.
Just then Pampam dear swung into action. His ears had caught the sound of a waterfall like a hound! He was a man possessed and pleaded to go down to the fall. We humored him and let him assess the time it would take as we had already planned to descend down to Dharmashala in the noon. I also got down with him and we saw a beautiful blue pond down the slope. Pampam was super enthused now. In a momentary lapse I assessed it would hardly take 15 minutes to get down, which later proved to be a gross under-estimation. Thank god I am not an investor! So leaving Deepak with his camera and broken shoes, we started descending to the blue pond as if there was a mermaid waiting for us there. After 25 minutes of slipping, jumping and sliding I got to a point where we had to drop about 20 feet. Already regretting our decision, this drop proved to be the final nail in the coffin and I told Pampam and Punter to return from there itself. What followed for another half an hour, consumed us to our core. We experienced true mountain climbing with carefully choosing boulders to step on and climb up. The whole time the theme of Lakshya was playing in my head. Huffing and puffing we got to the only shop at snow line and prepared to return with three spent souls and two spent soles!
What transpired next did not inspire us but only perspired us! We were greeted with loud thundering (it was as if Captain Haddock had cast a spell of ten thousand thundering typhoons on’em). I wished to shout like the amiable Captain but I was too scared. Heavy showers again slowed our pace and increased our heartbeats. Drenched and dripping we made it to the cottage. But clouds of serious doubts were looming large over our plans to get down to our hotel. So we waited for the rain gods to heed to our prayers, which they did. As we finished munching on Maggi, rain had almost stopped. So we packed and bade goodbye to Triund.
As we started, a black stray dog accompanied us. We named him Julio. If he was expecting some cookies from us, he didn’t get any. But he still looked after us till we reached the mid point-the Magic View shop. Rains had again picked up after a brief respite as we had started down. So by the time, we reached the shop, we were again soaked. While sipping the tea, we introduced ourselves to a Korean couple who were happy to return from the mid way.
We resumed as we thought we had regained enough strength. But that proved to be a mental mirage. For next 90 minutes, we were out of all our winds. Deepak and I were revising Friends and Andaz Apna Apna or else we would have collapsed like Lehman brothers. We could only feel our tongues moving, rest were mechanical motions. Pampam had long gone ahead with Punter. The last half hour brought a respite from rain and a glorious rainbow was behind us. The sight of Gallu temple again lifted our spirits. As we reached the temple we could see Uttamji waiting for us.
This brought an amazing trip to a beautiful end. Or so we thought! Murphy always plays his cards in the end. As we entered our hotel foyer, the receptionist asked us one question which we all dread to hear, “Has any of you left his wallet at Triund?” As we all had ours except Deepak, he frantically searched for it but in vain. Then it dawned upon us that jokingly we were asking each other while getting down that we won’t turn back for anything. I had even gone as far as claiming that even if the love of my life was up there, I won’t climb back! But as Murphy would have it, we did leave something up there. As I am writing this, it hasn’t been returned to its owner albeit many assurances.
We devoted the next day to local sightseeing in Dharmashala. We paid a visit to Norbulingka temple sprawling over acres. It was a beautiful complex with multitudes of photo opportunities which obviously weren’t missed. After sipping Tibetan herbal tea with great difficulty, we left for a quick visit to tea plantations. I have been drinking tea all my life, and visiting a tea garden kind of completed my habit! I wish I could call myself a ‘teatotaller’ now!
We reached the railway station 3 hours before our train’s arrival; so we killed time in a nearby theka. The conversations over beer mugs completed our journey as we strengthened our bonds the manly way! The late night gossips in the train refreshed our memories of our school days which we never got any time for in the hills. We all slept with a smile on our faces.
If this were a bollywood flick, the credits would be rolling by now with probably a Sholay like theme in the background. But our lives are no movies. One last adventure was left, Murphy’s cruelest trick. As we were crossing bridge after bridge at the New Delhi station, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten my, wait for it, wallet! If Ceaser were there, he would not even ask me, Et tu Deva? How on earth, I thought. Then I remembered I had kept it on the upper berth while I was getting down. I had completely forgotten about it. All kinds of thoughts flashed in my mind as I was running madly on the bridge. 2 wallets on the trip, a failure rate of 50%. I had mentally rung up my dad, thought of barging into DRM’s office, catching hold of the attendant and scoffing it out of him. I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw the train still on the platform. As I passed a few coaches, I glanced that none of the sheets had been removed. I again breathed easy and entered the train. As I reached my berth, I saw my wallet perched on the upper berth almost saying with a tear in its eyes, “How could you?” I grabbed it and jumped out of the train as if nothing had happened and promising never to leave it again.
I am not sure if we completed a circle or went into a hyperbole, but the journey was finished; the one we undertook to break the monotony of life, the one I took to rest my mind and chill out- it was the best chilling, literally and figuratively, that I’ve done in the recent past. The catharsis of drudgery and slavery was successful. We conquered the mountains, we conquered ourselves. The cul de sac is now a wide and open road!
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