Horemheb's Musings

First Published on April 7, 2014

Mountains have often fascinated me. The sight of those lofty peaks have always amazed and humbled me about the power of this nature and my own smallness in comparison. Naturally the king of mountains, the very abode of snow, Himalayas, have always been a core subject of my fascination. In several earlier articles here I have elucidated my passion for Himalayas. From that golden glimpse on the slopes of Mt Trikuta, home of Vaishno Devi, two decades back to my much dreamt of travel to Badrinath and Gangotri in 2011 mountains have always called me in their own majestic and timeless ways. After years of dreams and fantasies I finally travelled to Himalayas in 2011 to visit Badrinath. Gangotri was an afterthought, an idea generated thanks to my good friend, Jayan Warrier, whose Guru Swami Hariomananda lived in the Gangotri valleys for several years.

As an avid blogger and writer I have narrated my journey and experiences in Badrinath until Uttarkashi three years back. However the writer in me was left out of words to describe my visit to Gangotri. Travelling through the rough Himalayan roads of Uttarakhand, with the sheer cliffs and steep mastiffs defining a narrow pathway in which vehicles prance about precariously holding on to the prayers of its passengers, the steel nerves of the drivers and the blessing of Himavan, I saw vistas that left me spell bound. Be it the glimpses of snow bound peaks in the near horizon or the pristinely beautiful Harsil valley, a valley nestled amidst such rough terrain, all these paled in comparison to my experience of Gangotri itself. It was on my travel back to Uttarkashi from Gangotri that I decided that I cannot write about Gangotri. Not yet. I will come back to this place.

When I made my journey to the Himalayas in the October of 2011 tumultous things were happening in my life. A few months earlier my father had been admitted to the Lakeshore Hospital after a scary and sleepless night when I realized the meaning of mortal fear. As my father recovered from that episode and as my mother and relatives started getting accustomed to the fact of my father being an acute patient of Liver cirrhosis I had to wrestle within me the knowledge that the bedrock and foundation of my life, my father, was not going to be around me for long. I alone had known from the doctors that my father had barely years to live, I was the custodian of a knowledge that I never knew how to reveal to the other people who loved and cared for him. I still remember my father having another bout of hospital admission barely weeks before my 2011 travel to Himalayas. I managed to keep my fears and worries within me.

On that glorious morning in Himalayas as I bade temporary adieu to Gangotri I knew that the next time I would be coming to Gangotri, it would be for doing my father’s last rites. It was a promise I made to myself.

After 2 years of struggle my father left us on January 23, 2013. I took care of my father when he was alive so I knew my duties to him has been done. Though not an atheist I do not believe in the various rituals and ceremonies that are purportedly done for the dead by the living. The dead have departed, they are forever at peace, it is however the living who continue to be tormented and suffer. I knew that these rituals and ceremonies that are supposedly done for the peace of the dead in afterlife are actually done for the peace of the ones left alive. These ceremonies are only a measure of closure for the living to accept the departure of their loved ones. For some it is also a chance of repentance for the wrongs done to people while they were alive. My father had gone however my mother and my relatives needed this closure so I cooperated with every single ritual they asked me to perform or participate in. I knew that I needed to do just the one thing for my own closure.

I had made it known after my father’s funeral that the anniversary rites I would be doing in Gangotri itself. Knowing my passion for biking my mother was naturally and unsurprisingly worried that it would be a journey I would make on my bike. She objected and very smartly ( as I let her think ) declared that she too was coming with me. I agreed readily. I had known that it was not just me who needed a closure to continue on with life.

After some indepth planning and consultation we finally decided on the journey. The monsoon floods and devastation of Uttarkhand in 2013 had horrified me. To see the landmarks and vistas that I once admired to be torn away and washed away by the fury of nature was quite saddening. I knew that I could not make this journey after the monsoons started around April or May. I could not make this journey too early as the regions I planned to visit are completely closed and inhosptable during the winter months. That gave me a target of March 2014. That was when I had to make the journey.

In 2011 when I travelled to Badrinath and Gangotri, our two week trip had cost just Rs 15000 per person. I knew that this time it cannot be done this way as my mother is accompanying me and I could not take any risk regarding her health and comforts. Ever the silent sufferer she does not let it know but she suffers from a barrage of illnesses for years. So I decided to take no risks and do the best planning possible. And it is here that my very good friend, Tilak Soni comes into picture.

I had got acquainted with Mr. Tilak Soni several years ago through facebook. We got acquainted through our mutual passions for the Bullet and Himalayas. It was he who had guided and advised me before my 2011 Himalayan travels and I decided to seek his counsel this time too. I knew that he now runs an adventure organization called “Where Eagles Dare” but as I was not fully aware of his scope I asked him to suggest a guide and driver for our travels. He suggested that we awail of his services and I joyously agreed. A few back and forth emails for itinerary and budgeting later we finally had a deal.

Thanks to good graces of my company and its directors I finally got a ten day leave in March 2014. Mr. Soni had asked us to carry only the dress to wear and medicines we would need while coming for the trip and it was thus lightly loaded that we arrived at Dehradun on the afternoon of 7th of March, 2014. Despite the early morning drive to Nedumbassery Airport in Kochi, the 3 hour layover in Delhi Airport my mother was not quite so tired as we landed at the beautifully located Jolly Grant Airport in Dehradun. Waiting for us at the airport was Mr. Bharat Aswal, a taxi driver arranged by Mr. Soni to take us to Uttarkashi that day. The nearly 200 kms drive from Dehradun to Uttarkashi was a gruelling reminder of the rough Himalayan roads for me. After the first fifty kilometers of good tarmac finally the rough mountain roads started and my mother started giving her certificate of driving excellence. A couple of vomiting sessions and fortifications through lemon tea and almost seven hours of drive later at around 9 PM we finally reached Uttarkashi.

I first met Tilak Ji physically at the entrance of the Hotel Shivling where accomodation was arranged for us. A welcome chill had developed in the region by the time and my thoroughly exhausted mother and me freshened up at our decently appointed room before joining the rest of the Hotel’s patrons for the dinner buffet. Tilak ji and Mr. Ajay Puri, the owner of the hotel joined us for the dinner. I made my acquaintance with Mr. Puri who is a prominent entreprenuer and also an avid mountaineer and adventurer himself. Stunning photographs that he had taken of the amazing Himalayas adorned the corridors of the Hotel. After making sure my mother is comfortable I accompanied Tilak to the “Eagle’s Nest” the beautiful home and headquarters of “Where Eagles Dare”.

We had decided early on that the 8th would be a day of acclimatizing to the Himalayan weather and altitude. We also used the day to visit the Uttar Kashi Vishwanath temple and also the Chinmaya Mission Ashram. After duly praying and doing poojas at the temple and spending some time in the beautifully appointed Chinmaya Ashram and its prayer hall we finally travelled to the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering. The NIM is a premier mountaineering institute located a few kilometers above Uttarkashi amidst pristine pine forests. At that time some television shooting had been going on at NIM so our visit was a bit curtailed. A new TV series by name “Everest” was being shot there from Uttarkashi. The venture produced by Ashutosh Gowariker was about a couple of young people preparing to climb Mt Everest. The unit’s cast and crew were also staying at the same hotel where we were staying, Hotel Shivling. The days travels through the heart of Uttarkashi town also made me see the true extent of the previous year’s destruction. The Ganga river was now flowing as two distinct streams divided in the middle by a huge formation of rubble that had been washed in by the floods. Efforts are on to remove the rubble and get the river back to its original course but when compared to the nature’s potential the efforts of the scores of bulldozers and cranes seem puny and insignificant. Another example was 300 meter drive through a rough river bed which Tilak Soni explained to us was previously a street full of hotels and businesses. With sheer rock walls at one side and several scores of meters of rubble to the river on the other side this place did not look like it had any human constructions. However between our path and the river I could see a massive concrete wall sitting there like a beached whale, which Tilak ji described as the previous bank of the river. Between the rock wall to the concrete wall was the commercial area of Uttarkashi. Now there is nothing. Just rubble.

After the excursions of the day we prepared our luggages for the next day’s travel to Dharali. Tilak ji had informed us that the roads had been cleared a few weeks back by the BRO bulldozers and that we could stay in Dharali. Since there was next to no scope for stay at Gangotri we had decided to make Dharali our base camp and visit and return from Gangotri on the same day. Accompanying us was Kaushik, the young proprietor and owner of the hotel where we were to stay at Dharali. During winter months as the Gangotri temple is closed and there are no pilgrims travelling to the regions all the businesses and homes in Dharali and other villages in the area are closed up. The people would then migrate to secondary homes in lowlands like Uttarkashi. As the winter recedes and pilgim season approaches the people slowly go back to their homes and businesses doing the necessary repairs and constructions to meet the soon to come rush. However when we were travelling the season had not started and the place was its pristine best.

Dharali is located about 80 kms from Uttarkashi, nestled in the midst of Harsil valley. On the drive to Dharali I watched in amazement the huge mountains and its beautiful views. The snow clad mountains were nearing us tentatively and I was thrilled to finally see snow at close quarters. The amazement at the vistas was also dampened by the obvious scenes of destruction that nature had meted out. Whole stretches of roads were washed away, entire villages are slowly sinking into the river, the landscape had been cut and rented almost like an cake being cut by a sharp knife. Huge bridges could be seen torn completely away from its foundations. There had been several instances when I could see one of those colossal abuttments on one side of a steel rope bridge and on the other side, absolutely nothing, even the massive rubble having been washed off.

The patches of snow started getting closer and closer and one turn later it was around us! The air had gotten warmer and we stopped for me get my first touch of snow! A few kilometers later we stopped at Sukki Pass for tea. A brisk wind was in the air and the roadside was covered in snow. The landscape had been patched with snow! As I stood there enjoying the brisk cold wind and the piping hot tea a light snow fall also started!! It was magical.

However Sukki Pass compared far into comparison as we arrived at Dharali. Almost 2 feet thick layer of hardened snow was impeding our entry into the Hotel Shiva Dales, owned by Kaushik which was being opened for us. Tilak ji borrowed a showel from a nearby labourer and cut us a path across the snow and steps. I started realizing that walking on snow and ice is a tricky thing, however far more enjoyable than walking on regular roads. After a delightful lunch at the only restaurant open in the town my mother rested from her travels and I set out to explore the village. I visited the nearby Shiva temple, a beautiful shrine with a magnificent gold hued statue of Lord Shiva nearby. A distance ahead was a slope going towards the River Ganga, flowing quite placidly in the Harsil valley, a far cry from the violent torrent it is at heights above and below the valley. The wind was biting and fierce, chilled by the glacial waters and extremely swift following the contours of the valley. Hastening to put on my gloves I set out again on my exploration. I decided to follow the road heading towards Gangotri from Dharali village. The road was packed with snow with just the ruts left by passing trucks making any indentation. It was slow but extremely fun, walking alone in snow. It was all my dreams coming true. Having lived all my life in extremely hot regions I have always yearnt to see snow and now I am having the experience of a life time. It was a slow progress and a self learning one as that. Thankfully I did not have to learn any hard lessons. I learnt first hand the danger of black ice, snowmelt solidied into ice the color of the tarmac beneath. Thanks to my excellent combat boots I had a leisurely time walking on that snowy road. At several places there were ice stalagmites, solidified streams of mountain waters which jutted around the roadsides like so many rapiers pointed towards the ground. I broke off a couple of them and had lots of fun writing stuff on the palette of snow around. I also made myself a snow shivlinga in an ample patch. It was great fun packing the snow to the shape of Shiv Linga, snow just all around! I was impeded in my further progress by a water crossing a few meters ahead so I retraced my steps back towards the Dharali village.

The next day we had to wait until around 10:30 for the main priest of Gangotri temple to come after his morning pooja at the Dharali temple. Since Gangotri is closed during the winter months the Goddess Gangotri is brought in a “doli” to Dharali and worshipped here much like the temple of Badrinath is closed and everybody leaves for Joshimath. After taking my mother around to see the Shiva shrine and banks of Ganga we started making our way to Gangotri. Gangotri is roughly 30 kms from Dharali but in the current weather and terrain that is a drive of around 2 to 3 hours. As we climbed up in altitude the snow was ever more widespread and I could see the BRO and ITBP hard at work opening the roads for the coming pilgrim season. I waited with baited breath for that glimpse of Gangotri and its surrounding mountains, that heavenly place that had left me spellbound all these years. After much bustling and jostling in the mountain roads we finally arrived at Gangotri. As expected the entire town was abandoned. The busy streets full of shops, restaurants and hotels that I had seen three years back was under a shroud, nay a blanket of snow. The streets were covered by snow around 3-4 feet high and it was a tough journey for me to take my mother along this snow. With my legs often knee deep in snow I made a passage for my mother to walk in safely and led her by her hands to the Gangotri temple. The pristine white Gangotri temple was as beautiful as ever. With heartfelt thanks expressed to Mr. Tilak Soni who made this journey possible for us we breathed in the divine air of this Devabhoomi ( Land of Gods ) and rejuvenated ourselves with cups of tea before proceeding for the main objective – my father’s last rites.

We walked towards the banks of the swift flowing Ganga, freshly melt from the glaciers a scant 18 kms beyond. I stripped off my warm weather clothes and clad only in a saffron mundu ( dhoti ) I washed my hands, feet and face in the cold Ganga for the ceremony. It was unbelievably painful , standing in those cold waters and even more walking on snow barefoot. However what was promised had to be done, so calling on my seldomly used reserves of stoicness the pooja commenced. This very human of functions were sanctified at the time by two remarkable creatures – a raven and a dog. Ravens are portents of good omen in our culture representing ancestors who have come to consecrate the offerings we make. Since these ravens are called upon during funeral rites and anniversary rituals my mother and I were glad to see this particular omen. The dog held significance primarily to me, as a representative of Yama, the Lord of Death, especially in the way Yama accompanied Yudhishtira during Swargarohana. What is the connection and relevance? I cant say. But I respect my instincts and my insticts told me to be glad of the presence of the dog.

The ceremonies over I somehow managed to wear my shoes over my by now blisteringly painful feet. I led my mother up the steps of the temple and in the glorious sunshine that washed over all of us we ate a few morsels of prasad that were given to us by the temple caretakers. Despite my mother’s reservations we then made our way across the Ganga to visit the now closed Ashram of Swami Sundarananda whom I had the fortune to meet in Gangotri in 2011. The walkways were covered by several feet of snow creating vistas that were absolutely amazing! With some measure of difficulty my mother followed, helped along by the ever boisterous Kaushik however after seeing Suryakund and Swami Sundarananda’s Ashram my mother’s endurance failed. As she sat down to rest her legs for a while we noticed the clouds covering the sun and a brisk chill developing in the afternoon air. We made our way back to the car and after playing in the snow for some more time and satisfying some more of my pet fantasies like making a snow butterfly.

After briefly being blocked by some road clearing work we finally were on our way to Dharali when we stopped by a glacier we had seen on our way up. The ChangThang glacier is periodically bulldozed to clear the road and the nearly 12 foot high walls of ice finally gave me a measure of the size of a glacier. Even though this was only a seasonal glacier at least I had managed to see and touch a glacier in my lifetime! A few minutes later snow fall started. Putting my head and camera outside the car I was howling like a madman as the light snow fall turned into a full scale blizzard!! Visibility was cut down and it was all round mesmerizing with swirling whorls of snow all around us! As we reached Dharali we saw that the blizzard was gaining strength covering the mud and dirt of Dharali with a white blanket. At peace for having accomplished our goals and already getting sick ( not physically though ) of Dharali and its lack of warm water my mother insisted that we do not stay an extra day as I wanted and that we leave for Uttarkashi on the next day itself. I soothed myself by accompanying Tilak ji on a drive to the Harsil town where I saw some very interesting architectural styles. Reconciled and vowing that I would be back again I made the necessary arrangements so that we could leave for Uttarkashi on the morning of the 11th.

Fate and nature however had different plans for us. On the morning of the 11th the snow was still falling in full strength. Even the power cables on the street were laden thick with snow. After having some noodles and a light breakfast we set off for Uttarkashi around 9:30 AM. The roads were now layered with 2-3 feet of snow and we soon realized that we could not make progress. In several areas the vehicle’s wheels could not get traction and we had to push the vehicle forward to more grippier surfaces, that too up inclines! At several stretches the snow literally stopped the vehicle’s undercarriage from moving forward. After several hours of tries later we finally accepted defeat and returned back to Dharali. Dejected at our failure, we made a few more attempts that afternoon and evening but the snow had become thicker and now our progress was even more slow than it was in morning. We finally had to come to terms with the fact that we were stuck for good for a few days.

My mother, in fact several people had mocked me asking why did I plan for a journey this long!! 10 days? Really? 10 days just to go to Gangotri and come back? It may have seemed silly at the time but thanks to that generous buffer that I planned for we did not have to worry for the four days that we were trapped in Dharali. Four days in which we hoped some vehicle would make it from the other side. Four days in which we prayed that the blizzard would stop and sun would come out. Four days in which we actually sang prayers hoping the BRO bulldozers would come and clear the roads. Four days in which I was silently worried that my mother would be okay.

The blizzard that started on the afternoon of the 10th did not end until the morning of 12th. By then Dharali was unrecognizable!! Every roof, every inch of the road was covered with snow. The massive piles of construction equipment that lined the streets had all become quaint mini snow mountains! The snow had fallen so thick that construction iron bars that lay in front of the hotel were now invisible under the snow and had become a veritable hazard for our walking. Thus went on four days of waiting and watching with nothing to do in the remote mountain village with snow all around and not a single cell phone signal.

Thanks to the foresight and planning of Mr. Tilak Soni these four days we knew of no want. Tilak ji plied us with tea, noodles and soup so that these four days became leisurely and luxurious days of rest for me and my mother. Tilak ji travelled with all the accoutrements including supplies, stove and utensils so that even on days my mother did not feel like walking towards the restaurant for meals she was provided with warm refreshments.

On 13th Dharali was visited by a unit from the nearby base of Indo Tibetan Border Police. The Major commanding the detachment spent some time with us learning about our travails of being trappped. In the village of Dharali apart from me and my mother there was also a group of film makers from Kerala, a project involving actor Prakash Bare of “Papilio Budha” fame who were shooting a movie called “Oraal Pokkam”. The advance team of around 6 people from the film unit had arrived at Dharali a day before us but the rest of their film unit were stuck at Jhala blocked by what we now learned was three avalanches and a road renderede impassable by around 3 feet of snow. The ITBP personnel assured us that the BRO would be coming with its bulldozers later that day. Apparently what we were in midst of was a very freak occurrence of nature. Dharali and its surrounding environs had not seen this heavy snow in March for past several decades. However it was business as usual for ITBP and BRO who have to keep the roads motorable any time of the year. I was informed that whenever a blizzard occurs the BRO waits for one full day of clear skies. A full day of clear skies indicates that a whole month is ahead without snow. Only when there is no further chance of snow for a month does the bulldozers clear the road, else understandably it is a futile effort. 12th was a day of clear skies and plummeting temperatures so on 13th as informed by ITBP the bulldozer came. Apparently there are sections of road handled by various bulldozer teams and the team ahead serving Jhala had already cleared the roads in their section. On the night of 13th some more members of the film crew had arrived by trekking over the snowed landscape and amongst this group was the actor Prakash Bare himself.

On the morning of 14th we arose full of hope but the fingers crossed. Our return flight to Dehradun was on 17th and I had decided that the time for panic, if at all, would come only on 15th if we were still stuck in Dharali. On the morning of 14th a unit from the Indian Army base at Harsil also showed up to enquire about our whereabouts. We set off packed aroun noon and it was while following the bulldozer at Harsil crossing that we realized the reason for increased attention by authorities on that date. It was only in Harsil that there was any cellphone range and it was then that we learnt of the furore caused by some extremely zealous and misinformed crew member of the film unit. The guy had apparently informed authorities in Kerala that the film crew had been “lost” in snow. Since it was a fortnight of extremely cold weather and bad weather all over Himalayas due to a western disturbance there had been some incidents of loss of life in Kashmir. Coupled with news of the calamity in Kashmir and this frantic call from Jhala news stories were running wild. The wildest of news stories had been about Kerala Home Minister calling up Kerala Chief Minister, him calling Uttarakhand Chief Minister and Minister of Defence AK Antony to mobilize the “Army” to “rescue” the “lost” film makers. It was only a routine road clearing operation by the BRO and it was the unfortunately under reported Indo Tibetan Border Police who had first contacted us and learnt of our whereabouts. I had learned quite a bit about the grievances of the ITBP over the much more glamorous and reported Indian Army. ITBP who are always the first responders in any such terrain are often not reported on at all with all PR and publicity going to the Indian Army. I hope that my account would serve to increase awareness of the immense help and sacrifice given by the valiant soldiers of ITBP who are the trye masters of these lofty peaks. The Major I talked to was the first land responder during the previous year’s floods and the pace and efficiency at which the ITBP soldiers conducted their route march over the thick snow and across all those avalances to meet us also showed me their true mettle. Kudos must go to the Indian Army, but I hope due recognition also comes to these brave troopers of ITBP and particularly the BRO GREF for keeping these vital mountain roads clear and motorable.

Finally around noon following the bulldozers we watched with joy as the last avalance had been bulldozed away and the road cleared. Our Maruti EECO was the first vehicle to leave the Harsil valley and then we breathed a sigh of relief. Several more hours of increasing warm air and receding snow and some truly daredevil driving by our inimitable Tilak ji saw us finally at Uttarkashi. Our joy at reaching Uttarkashi and having espaced from the snow trap was however overshadowed by the immense joy showed by Tilak ji’s three pet dogs who had raced down from the Eagle’s Nest on learning he was back amongst them. It was a lesson to me about the love between canines and their master. That evening I and Tilak Soni also met with Swami Hariomananda, Guru of Jayan Warrier with whom we spent some time talking about the Himalayan experiences. Blessed and refreshed by the excellent conversations I finally called it a day thoroughly welcoming the warm showers and even warmer beds of Hotel Shivling after four days of unheated cold beds.

On 15th we finally travelled from Uttarkashi to Rishikesh where we planned to spend a day of rest before our flight home from Dehradun. A few hours into the drive Tilak Soni asked me whether I wanted to take the wheel and I obliged. With my mother who was so far drifting in and out of sleep now ramrod straight and with a perpetual look of fright carved into her face I settled into the driver’s seat and had a leisurely drive. As we stopped for lunch I had thoroughly enjoyed the drive but knew that I was a far cry from being a master of driving like Tilak ji was. I also knew that if I drove any more my mother may just have a heart attack, not because I was driving rashly, far from it I was barely going above 40, but because my mother is a world champion at finding things to worry about, especially when it concerns me. Relinquishing the wheel to Tilak ji we finally made our way towards Rishikesh. Leaving the mountains and approaching the plains I was also leaving the peaks of joy to the troughs of moroseness. I dreaded the heat after the wonderful cold of the mountains. I dreaded the polluted airs of the plains after the sweet breezes of mountains. Finally I was sad I was leaving the mountains.

16th was an unremarkable day spent in the unremarkable heat and traffic of the plains. The only positive of the day came at the ISKCON Temple at Rishikesh where we left mother to enjoy the bhajans. Apparently the insanely loud symbals weilded by the ISKCON youth jarred and irritated my mother as much as it did me but she seemed relieved when she could run out of the bhajans. The next day we were dropped at the airport by Tilak ji and we bade a grateful adieu to this most remarkable of men for the wonderful trip he had arranged for us.

Now back in Bangalore and getting slow cooked by the insane heat I yearn more than ever for the Himalayan mountains. I have travelled twice to the Himalayas in two different modes of transport. In 2011 it was using public transportation buses and trains, in 2014 it was using a private car and flights. Next time I know how it would be on, my bike. Heaven willing and most importantly Himalayas and my employers willing, I hope I can do that ride in the not so distant future! Some closures had been achieved, yet more closures are now identified and we are finally moving on after our tremendous loss. And that is the true story of Himalayas. After every devastation there is a new begining. There just has to be. For that is the nature of life, the true Circle of Life.