The snow felt soft beneath my feet and the air chilling. I walked swiftly, briskly among the white canvas of snowy terrain. The breath that escaped my lips turned smoky as they were touched by the cold air. My hands felt numb, my streaming blood inefficient to provide warmth any more. But, somehow in this hostile environment I felt relieved. It felt like I had been graced with the world of my fortuitous dream. Shrill ringing alarm pierced my ears, with it my dream was gone. "Pooofs". I opened my eyes to the clock staring at me, just having struck 4:30 AM. "Early", I thought but then a long day awaited and "early" was the need of the hour. Pulling away my warm blanket I climbed down my bed, tapping on my friends on the beds nearby I made my way to freshen up.
In an hour's time we were at the hotel's lobby waiting for our cab for the pick up. Five minutes later we had already boarded the cab and were on the way to the registration office. "Today's destination - Nathula Pass - Indo-China Border." The feeling that I will be standing at the edge of my country enthralled me. One more hour passed by at the office to get the permits. At around six our cruiser- cab was climbing up the hilly slopes ... we were on our way to Nathula now.
Convoluting roads marked a steep climb on the mountains' face, specks of settlements dotted the landscape. Rolling down my window glass I gazed up to the sky, amazed... "I have never seen such a blue sky!" The air felt light and fresh, the early morning sun's rays soft on the skin. Nathula is 53 kilometers uphill east of Gangtok, Sikkim's capital. It takes some 3-4 hours to reach there due to the harsh terrain and cliff side roads.
We were moving early to avoid mountain traffic. You would know better if you have ever been through a mountain road how treacherous and time consuming it is when you are stuck in a mountain traffic for hours. But for now we were enjoying the open roads. A few kilometers from Gangtok we were asked to stop at the first Military outpost for I.D. verification. It was done in a couple of minutes.
The roads then became rugged, worn off at places. From the distance I could see large boulders and land slipping down... Landslides. As we approached a turn a large puff of dust mushroomed ahead on the road, our cab jolted to a stop. Slowly we moved ahead with caution, huge chunk of rocks were rolling down the hill sweeping out tree along with them. It was a terrifying experience, when you know any rolling rock can crash into your car or knock it off the hillside. But we dared to moved on.
The car rocked side to side as if dancing like a child mounting a hilly incline. Oxygen got scarce, breathing a little difficult now. The terrain began to appear more rocky merging up into the skies. Sikkimese songs playing on the audio player of the cab had a different vibe to it. Melodious as it was, calming and relaxing all the same. After some time that seemed long enough we reached a small settlement called "Kyangnolsa". Though not very tired, still refreshment was necessary. We got out of the car to visit a nearby cafe...smell of hot tea felt inviting.
The cafe was a shop cum cafe with warm clothes displayed in the room present beside a kitchen that brewed hot tea along with omelets and maggi noodles. Hew... "Maggi" - it's a life saving staple food here high up in these mountains. Sitting besides the
Bokhari (a traditional wood burning stove that keeps the house warm) we enjoyed our hot cups of tea for a brief moment. That tea warmed us from within, giving us strength and hope to move on in this bone chilling cold.
After some refreshment we continued on our journey. The mountains ahead appeared white with snow covered peaks. The serpentine road, growing steeper with every turn. To our relief we had been already warned about the cold weather at Nathula by our hotel staff at Gangtok the previous night.
Mr. Anil, at the reception counter warned us during a casual talk,
"Sabji, Nathula mein bahut thand. garam kapra leke jana."
Me:
" Kitni thand hay? Barf padti hay kya?"
Mr. Anil:
"Haan ji. Do din pehle barf gira tha."
And wisely we wore thick jackets, caps and gloves the next morning or else it would have been tough for us to reach our destination.
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| Gum-booted |
Travelling in the mountains is an experience that cannot be described in words but then this adventure also comes with it's own risks. Anyway, for the moment I kept looking out of the rolled up window side glass and soaked in the raw beauty of these massifs. The next stop we made was near "
Changu Lake"(Local name) or more officially called the "
Tsomgo Lake". It is also one of the most popular tourist spot but we decided to explore it on our way back. Here we had to rent some gumboots, because our shoes would be of no use in the snow. There are small shops here that serve maggi and alcohol(A necessity to keep warm in these parts). One can also rent winter wears and gumboots here. Finally dressed for the occasion we marched on.
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| Sikkim Scouts |
On our way we came across many army camps. Being the international border and relation between India and China not that friendly in the past, this area is highly militarized. Different regiments of personnel have been posted here, the most famous being the "Gorkha" regiment, known for their fighting spirit and resilience. These men deserve respect, they work in such hostile conditions day in and night out where it is difficult for us to even thrive for a couple of hours.
"Jai Jawan".
Nathula was just a few kilometers away when snow flakes appeared on our cab's wind-shield. My joy had no bounds, it was the first time that I was experiencing snowfall... I still remember how elated I felt that moment. These white tiny petals of ice showered down with consistent intensity. Our cab stopped a kilometer away from the Nathula war memorial, which now was visible at the hill top beneath the red roofed Army office. I sprinted out as the cab screeched to a stop, running out with open arms to embrace the snow. Smile stretched ear to ear as I realized my early morning dream was unfolding true infront of my very eyes.
Nathula lies at an altitude of 4300 m above the sea level and forms a part of the ancient silk-route that connected Tibet to the Bengal plains. In 1962 Nathula witnessed a heavy artillery skirmish between the armies of the two nations - Sino-Indian War. Following this the pass was closed for almost 40 years. With the initiative of the then Prime minister Mr. Atal Bihari Vajpayee(2003), the relations between the two countries improved leading to opening of the pass in 2006. And as of date the line of fire at Nathula has ceased to a peaceful retreat. Tourists throng this place year round, indeed among some strict security measures. We had to put back our cameras in our bags as photography beyond the parking lot was not permitted. So, the last photo I took was from the parking area only.
It was one kilometer walk to base of the Nathula post. On reaching the base, we paid homage to our brave soldiers at the Indian War Memorial present over there. A plight of stairs took us straight to the Indian border edge, beyond which the land is foreign. I stood there a couple of minutes imagining what this place must have witnessed, the old traders ambling through with goods, the wars between people on both sides, Buddhist pilgrims crossing national borders in search of faith and on occasions like today tourists that flung to admire this place. I wish I could have had a little more time to spare, a life more to spare I would have dedicated it to this land and it's causes. Places like these ignite that dormant patriotism in you but then it is always there I recalled. Snow flakes now showered copiously and it would be difficult to return if this escalated. So, with heavy hearts we had bid our adieus to Nathula and head back.
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| Playing in the snow |
Once back on the road, the skies profoundly started pouring down snow. Visibility was now mere 5 meters. Condition for driving was unfavorable, with no other choice left we had to stop. The sky appeared dark, white snow screening out everything you could put your eyes on. I remember talking to myself if it safe to get out of the car in such heavy snowfall, but my adventurous better-half of consciousness was inclined to give it a shot. And I obliged. We headed out into the open snow, laughing joyfully, running, splashing snow at each other, rolling down and living every bit of it. That moment is encarved deep in my treasure of memories now.
Baba Harbhajan Singh's Temple
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| Baba Harbhajan Singh's shrine |
Acts of valor, legendary personas and events are always folklored in many battle ravaged lands. Nathula is no exception. The tale of Baba Harbhajan Singh and his legacy is one to behold. Young Harbhajan Singh was posted here in 1968, a time when the two nations had been in battles for quite a couple of years now. He died during a supply transfer mission, buried in glacial ice. It is believed that Harbhajan Singh guards his motherland and his fellow-mates even after death. Surprisingly no military causalities have occurred in the area after his demise. He is so revered in this part of the world that people and army personnel have built a temple in his honor. Even at the flag meetings at Nathula, a chair is left empty with respect to him. He received allotted salary and promotions till his retirement post-martyrdom. A berth is reserved once a year in a train from New Jalpaiguri to Kuka, Punjab(his resident village), to mark is yearly home visit.
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| Mr. Singh narrating his story |
Harbhajan Singh was awarded the title of "Baba" after the mass contemplated him to be a holy soul who safeguards the life of his followers. Many stories float around of how Baba Harbhajan Singh saved lives in these mountains years after his death. Locals believe his soul still roams these borders and his death could not cease him from commencing his duty. One such story was narrated to us by First Lieutenant Harpal Singh, who and his company had lost sense of direction in a snow-storm during regular petrol. He explained how the silhouette of a man dressed in uniform of 1960's guided them to the safety of their camp. He acclaimed that Baba Harbhajan Singh saved his life that very day. Sometimes, you accept and fail to accept at the same time, some events and occurrences. And your logical mind questions, but is laid silent by the strong belief of a mass. Baba Harbhajan Singh, is one such anomaly. Whatever the truth be, but this man deserves immense respect. We paid a visit to his shrine and listened long to his folklore. A couple hours later, though we had moved on from that place my heart lingered back time and again.
Tsomgo Lake
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| some amazing moments with our Jawans |
On our way down we met some Army personnel and even they rode with us for a few kilometers to the next outpost. We struck a hearty conversation. Life here is difficult but then what's the charm of it with no challenges, they stated. Tourists can be a little irritating a times, as they know not to how act at places with high securities. Time and again the jawans would stop the car, get down to tell the tourists not to stop at restricted area for photographs. Duty ridden, safety of the nation and it's citizens is the prime objective of these jawans. Respect, again. They dropped off just before we reached Tsomgo lake.
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| Tsomgo Lake at the backdrop |
Tsomgo lake (Changu Lake) is a glacial lake about 40 kilometers from Gangtok. It is a natural wonder as the lake is known to have waters of changing colors with change in seasons. We had arrived early winter, snowfall already had begun and the lake was placid white now, though not completely frozen. The lake is surrounded by steep sloping mountains giving it the appearance of a saucer. The word "Tsomgo" is derived from two Bhutia words - "Tso" meaning lake and "Mgo" meaning head. That literally meant the head or origin of the lake. The lake hosts the festivities of
Guru Purnima, when holy healers called
Jhakris assemble at the lake to reap benefits from it's healing waters. Standing here beside it's water felt serene... healing. My heart latched on to this place, somehow I felt connected. See, that is the thing with the mountains they embrace you in a way that nowhere else on the planet you will find.
While walking around we came across some locals providing "Yak" ride. Hesitating initially, but then we managed to convince ourselves for a ride. Just for 10 minutes we moved across the footpath on the edge of the lake. The Yak had ornately decorated horns and their long, black hair felt warm. Afternoon sun was hiding behind the dark clouds with temperature dropping down. It was time for us to leave as we had to get to Darjeeling before nightfall. With the events of the day and memories of moments at Nathula and Tsomgo lake dancing wild in our thoughts we headed back down to the township of Gangtok.
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Riding on the mountain harden bovines... Yak Ride
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Parting Thoughts
Nathula, a land of ancient reverence, carved millennia back when the earth collided and raised the low land to sky high summits. A land where belief finds it's meaning and mortality merges into the immortal realm. Time and tide loose their significance yet somehow exist in the shadows. People who have conquered lands beyond have learned to bow down to the vast expanse of these mountains and the forces that govern them. They respect, they worship, they admire ... these highlands. Nathula is not just a place, it's an experience ... an experience that I am willing to have again any given moment of my homuncular life.
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| Nathula, as I remember seeing it |
