LIFE AND LIES #27 | Hitchhiking to Gurudongmar

 “We should have booked a four-wheeler for today,” suggests Ajay, taking a break from kick-starting his bike.

Sooner or later, the wisdom of hindsight comes to all of us. And right now, it pours out of my friend, only to be frozen mid-air. Just like me, he is covered from head to toe in multiple layers. There is no one in sight except the two of us and the occasional vehicles passing by, halting at the sight of our thumbs out, only to refuse to give us a ride.

“Maybe, we should chuck it and chill in Lachen itself.”

NO.

The voice in my head shouts then takes a moment to think, dials it down to a pleading voice:

No no no. This can’t happen.

We are not far from the homestay we had stayed last night. I find some comfort in that as Ajay now has to roll it downhill back to where we had begun in the morning. The owner’s daughter smiles at us from the balcony when we reach the homestay. She is a good company but right now I need to be someplace else. After all, we had come all the way from Gangtok, covering 120 kilometers in a single day, traversing rugged terrains and hilly pathways.

All that to no avail.

I don’t say anything to Ajay. It’s just bad luck, nobody’s fault. Still I am pissed. Leaving him at the door, I start walking downhill. I come across the waterfall we had passed by the day before. From there, I can see the entire valley. If worse comes to worst, this shall be a good place to hang.

Just then, a Scorpio emerges out of the bend in the road. Another vehicle that won’t give us a ride. Still, hopeful to the last, I put my thumb out again. It gets closer. I can see the Tricolour on the bumper. Some military person. My mind begins to calculate why and why not the vehicle will stop. Before I reach a conclusion, the vehicle comes to a halt. The door glass slides down to reveal a man in sunglasses. Definitely military, I deduce from his haircut. The request rolls of my tongue. I have had a lot of practice today.

“If you can manage in the backseat,” the officer replies.

He has to say no more. I am seated there without losing a moment. There are seven people in the vehicle, including me: the officer and his wife in the front, his parents, and two kids in the middle. The vehicle progresses up on the road and approaches the homestay. Ajay is still outside.

“Actually,” I ask from the back, ever so meekly. “I have a friend. Can he come too?”

“Again, if you can manage,” the officer responds.

Ajay is surprised to see me jumping out of the back of the Scorpio. He comes on board without any further delay. Both of us make space for ourselves by adjusting the luggage at the back. The vehicle progresses slowly. The road is bumpy. I hit my head a few times. I leave the small talk to Ajay. Brimming with joy, I watch the scenery go by; snow-capped peaks lining up on both sides.

After a two-hour drive, we take a brief stop at Thengu. I haven’t had breakfast yet. It was a good decision. I am shaken to such a point that everything stirred inside. Had I been a vodka martini and offered to James Bond, he would have definitely declined. Still, I hold my bearings, glad that I’m closer than I was to my destination.

My enthusiasm doesn’t waver till we reach the final check post. There we find an array of vehicles waiting. Apparently, there is some emergency Army meeting going on. Situated so close to the Indo-China border the area is subjected to heavy scrutiny. I can see helicopters flying in and out. Everyone’s visit is put on hold due to security reasons. It sinks in then that I still can’t make it to the destination.

To pass the time, Ajay and I roam around a little. A little further from the road, we come across a half-frozen brook.  From there military settlements are visible against a backdrop of the Tibetan plateau. There’s a stark difference between the two sides of the check post. This side has snowy mountains while on the other side, everything is brown and barren. The army camped in such harsh conditions for our sake deserves a great deal of respect.

Before long, we return only to find that the officer is nowhere to be seen. After asking around, we come to know that he was granted permission, being a military person. Of course!

“We shouldn’t have wandered around,” Ajay spouts another pearl of wisdom.

I am not worried, though. Looking around, I find plenty of available options. I find a guy whose Bolero seemed empty. On enquiring, he rambles on about how his vehicle was booked by a couple to travel in solace and that I had to convince them not him. 

“How much,” I jump straight to the point. He seems insulted for a moment then projects a shamefaced smile. Moments later, we come to an agreement: 500/- each, including the return trip. Incentivized now, he doesn’t lose a moment to convince the couple.

There’s still the uncertainty, though. I can flap all around all I want but it all comes down to my luck. Also, I am feeling a bit dizzy. My stomach is empty; plus, the high altitude. There’s no shop or anything nearby. Whatever snacks and water bottles we had brought along were now in the officer’s car. After having a sip from the driver’s bottle I find a suitable place to sit down. Meanwhile, Ajay chats up one of the biker boys who’s wearing a jacket with ‘AJAX’ printed on the back.

The wait is long but it gets over, eventually. People rush to the vehicles as the barrier gets lifted. A guard checks our papers before crossing the checkpoint. The rugged road continues for a while then turns into a smooth metalled one cleaving through the barren land. Going higher, my condition only worsens. It is the lack of oxygen. I try to gulp as many mouthfuls as I can.

Getting closer to the destination, I see a snow-clad mountain, emerging out of an otherwise bleak landscape.

“Don’t show me the picture,” I had said to Ajay, some time ago when he was planning the trip. “Tell me it’s worth it and I’ll take your word for it.”

We get down where a few vehicles are already parked. I walk a little further over the high rise and find the lake stretching beyond me, in the lap of the mountain. I don’t what to say. I have never seen anything like this before. It’s as if the mountain and the lake are drawn over a bright blue canvas. The snow on the mountain glimmers under the sunlight. And the lake is entirely frozen.

Except for a small portion. I was looking for it. There is a legend associated with the lake.

The entire lake used to freeze during winter. That adversely affected the lives of the locals dependent on the lake for survival. Their misery was heard by Guru Padmasambhva, who was passing by one day. He is one of the founding fathers of Tibetan Buddhism. To help out the locals, he unfroze a portion of the lake. Since then, the small portion of the lake stopped freezing during winter.

Located at 5183 meters above sea level, Gurudongmar Lake is one of the highest lakes in the world. Therefore, the air is relatively thin. The drivers don't let you stay at the lake for long. One moment you are there, another moment you're being shuffled back into the vehicle.

A question finds me on my way back: Was it all worth it? Going through all the troubles for a ten-minute stay.

The MBA grad worried about ROI while the poet was all about experiences.