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14 Days To Kailash Mansarovar
by Kaustuv Chatterjee.
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Judging from the repeated insistence Chatterjee places on emphasis about how he not only lacks faith in majority religion of India, but makes it obvious that he intends to deliberately seek to give offense, one infers that this book is written with kowtowing to a later abrahmic - and generally Western - readership in mind, even though obviously it was meant to make money through buyers chiefly of India, to be sold to those who'd care about the subject of title and cover.
It'd have been decent to avoid the deliberate, repeated and strenuous efforts to give offense.
At that, those who buy this for sake of reading about the journey and the place are unlike to care about what Chatterjee believes. So the belligerence he's wearing proudly is just that, like that of a bully going about on a beach with balled fists raised in a pose to strike, while everyone else is enjoying a time with friends, family, ocean, skies, light, breezes and stars.
Funny thing is, Chatterjee has spiritual experiences during this journey, and nevertheless goes on with snide comments, out of habits; he fails to realise, not only that perhaps others see possibilities of such experiences dimly on horizon without ever reaching that horizon, but something far more elementary. Religions are born of precisely such experiences, of someone in case of abrahamic creeds, or of a whole culture as in case of India, where spiritual knowledge was compiled as scientifically as possible.
The book nevertheless is worth reading, for more than one reason - an honest account of a journey for one, descriptions and beautiful photographs of the region for another, and reading about the various experiences, of spiritual and every other level.
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"With little time to spare, I ran back to the shop in time to join the last few stragglers of our group trooping in. The next temple, the Buddha Neelkanth, also known as the ‘Sleeping Vishnu’ temple was an interesting one. There’s a curious legend about it. Apparently a Newari (a Nepali caste) by the name of Buddha (old man) Neelkanth owned the land. One day, he shifted some bushels of wheat from one place to another on this piece of land, and having completed the work, went off somewhere. Coming back, he found the bushels back in their original place. Confused, he moved them again. A while later he found the bushels back in their original place. This went on a couple of times to his growing alarm, pointing to the work of gods or demons. The terrified old man reported these unearthly events to the King. The King ordered him to excavate the land, upon which a fully formed statue of a sleeping Vishnu was discovered here. ... "
So far, interesting. Next, Chatterjee hurries to offend.
" ... Such a well finished and beautiful statue would have taken years to complete, so much so for the factual basis of this myth. But I wondered how this story or legend came to be? Was it a ‘story’ to justify the Raja’s land grab from Buddha Neelkanth, or maybe that of a crafty and powerful minister in the Raja’s court?"
Across India, temples and Deities thereof being saved from deliberate destruction by having priests bury them, or hide them, are all too common, from Bihar Maharashtra to Pondicherry. Then there are other, natural calamities that could have the effect.
But Chatterjee has to not only assume that Hindus cheat and lie, he has to loudly say so, without thinking or asking a question.
Another person might make a different choice, and end up doing valuable research involving archeology, geophysics, history and more.
But perhaps this offense was the whole intention, not just of the wring and publication of this book, but the very trip?
Most adventurers aim at a literally higher adventure, Mount Everest, which now has been supporting practically a tourism industry, with chains of climbers seen ascending and descending simultaneously most days.
Chatterjee chose something a tad less of adventure - just so he'd make money off a billion of India and score points with later abrahmics by offending the former.
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" ... Last night when we had arrived it was already dark, and we had not realised our guest house was ringed in by high, forested mountains on all sides. Clouds cloaked their tops, and had it not been for the truck-stop messiness and squalor of human habitation here, the place would have been stunning in its pristine wilderness. The Bhote Kosi cut through these mountains right across the road from the guest house."
Chatterjee has several photographs illustrating his praise for "Chinese side" of border, which he calls 'developed'.
Perhaps crossing into India from Afghanistan had the same effect until 1947?
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"The roads on the Tibetan / Chinese side were world class, smooth as butter and with great engineering. In our new Chinese bus, we hardly felt the quick gain of about 4,000 ft. in the one and half hours to Kerung. Neatly laid out and a charming oriental town, it was full of concrete buildings that were quite obviously new constructions, with impressive vistas beyond its developed areas. We passed through the main street of the town, full of restaurants with what looked like delicious fare, richly decorated in the reds and golds typical of Tibetan or Chinese décor."
Chatterjee fails to mention that these are heavily toured areas, not by internal traffic but by Indian and Western tourists for most part, and the said "development" - chiefly at expense of indigenous - serves purpose of exactly the propaganda Chatterjee is doing for Chinese occupation in this book.
If he tried his tourism in say, slums of Shanghai and elsewhere interior, or attempted to research into Chinese government enforced abortions - he'd know about "development" immediately.
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" ... We finally settled on a small popular place – ‘Peaceful restaurant’. ... "
The very name is so very totalitarian nation propaganda meant for tourists, reminds one of names like GDR, PRC etc al - but then, cemeteries are supposed to be peaceful.
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" ... we headed out from our hotel to explore Kerung. It was a very small town, built over the last 3-4 years in a typical grid layout pattern, some kind of Chinese formula for these sort of small towns. ... "
Not Chinese per se but the kind of regime, such as those occupying an unwilling subject population, that needs ease of sending troops bearing weapons, even tanks.
" ... It had a large central square with a beautiful Buddhist temple overlooking it. Saurabh & I did a Parikrama of the temple, whizzed the prayer wheels for good luck on our journey in the days to come. The richness of the wall frescos and painting of deities in these temples, especially the usage of rich red or ochre is unique and a visual treat. ... "
Use of those colours is common to all rituals of ancient India, but not as colours per se - thry happen to be colours of turmeric and Kunkuma, considered auspicious and must in every religious ceremony, small or otherwise.
Chatterjee gives several photographs of the temple, inside and out, and somehow it has, not an indigenous look but an air of Chinese, modern construction. It has more in common with, say, a Chinese restaurant decor in Taj, than a Tibetan Buddhist temple in India.
And the latter are certainly far more authentic Tibetan, built as they've been by Tibetans nostalgic and heartsick for their lost homeland, than anything built in Tibet post 1959.
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Chatterjee loses no time declaring his prejudices.
" ... I found increased activity at the hotel. I met an attractive Tibetan lass standing on its steps. The local money lender no less, with bewitching eyes! Some of the Gujarati uncles and aunts had come down to the lobby and she drifted off there, after I smilingly refused her rip-off offer. ... "
Somehow reminiscent of, not only antisemitism expressed by those not actually guards of an erstwhile nation facility, but also the preference and prejudice shown by some of the US and other sojourners from West after partition of India, more recently by the author of Three Cups Of Tea, in his subsequent book more explicitly, but inherent generally in his actions described in the first one as well.
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" ... Today our destination was a town called Saga deep inside Tibet on the high plateau. ... "
Google maps results in no such destinations - neither Kerung nor Saga - as mentioned by Chatterjee, not in the direction of his travel, anyway.
China changed local names, presumably.
"Leaving Kerung, the road wound its way through stunning mountain vistas and picturesque alpine forests. Massive snow peaks revealed themselves now and then through gently drifting clouds. Today was sunny and the glimpses of snow peaks hinted at a grand scenic beauty on clear days. The road was excellent as usual and followed the course of a fast flowing mountain river."
Presumably the river is Trishuli and the road roughly towards Northwest, on the whole more West, but none of the names of residential posts match those in Chatterjee's account.
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"Gradually the topography changed from lush coniferous forests to grassy mountains and then on to increasingly bare lands and scrub mountains. As we drove on, the vegetation became scant till it finally disappeared. Mountains flowed in an endless train of gradients. They towered bare, their sedimentary rock layers exposed, each layer a different shade of yellow or brown. As we drove on, these layers acquired fantastic forms, twisting, swirling and sometime buckling, almost like a giant ripple over the surface of the land. An after-shock of the ancient tectonic collision of the Indian landmass with Asia, frozen in time for eternity since then. ... "
Not India, not even subcontinent, but 'landmass'????
Chatterjee getting ready to deny nationhood, culture, history - even the very existence of India - as per latest requirements from cardholders abrahmics and fellow travellers?
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Chatterjee comes out of closet.
"Saga did not have the charm of Kerung. Instead it had a craggy, wind-blown character to it, mirroring the harshness of the land around it. The town was full of traditionally attired Tibetans with wild, nomadic features. They are the majority here, not the Chinese. In Kerung it was the opposite, more Chinese than Tibetan."
So might any racist opine about India post independence lacking presence of colonial rulers, or about a reservation in Arizona for that matter.
Chatterjee ought to find plenty of charm throughout China after he leaves Tibet behind, since his three requirements should be amply satisfied - no Tibetans, plenty of concrete grid and Chinese people.
Why not trek from Gobi to Pacific and down to Hong Kong, instead of Tibet? Surely Kailash wasn't important, not to Chatterjee?
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" ... Many of the locals did not like being photographed and made it clear to me. Still, I managed to capture some of the kaleidoscopic essence of that street and its world."
He illustrates that with half a dozen photographs, most Tibetans with faces averted.
Isn't it a basic human right, consent before being photographed?
True British heritage there - they forced on Tibet, not only trade with them, but sovereignty of China over Tibet, by accepting it in a treaty Tibet was forced to sign, paving the way for china claiming, attacking, and occupyingtibet, before proceeding to conduct a genocide of the Tibetans and replacing the Tibetan population with what's mistakenly termed Han Chinese.
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"Woke up to a wave of emotions. I am being carried away inexorably on the tide of time, the currents beyond me, being swept away. Snatches of conversations and vignettes of memories flood in. Ramnath & Shekhar da opening up, their memories brimming over, sharing the stories of their lives with Saurabh & me. The lost look that takes them away, while recounting some particularly precious ones. I had a vision while listening to them today. We are walking on the Parikrama together, and one by one we get separated for some reason or the other. Saurabh on his pony, a prisoner atop it, galloping away. He’s scared. The pony with him passes me by and disappears while I call for him to get down. Shekhar da, he was walking ahead of me, where did he go? Ramnath had stopped to take a picture, can’t see him anywhere…where and how long back had I last seen him? I am walking, walking, not a soul in sight. The road snakes away in front of me and there’s only me on it. I am dreaming up stuff, there were no others to begin with."
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" ... Though the local time in Tibet was 2 and half hours ahead of India time, the sunrise and sunset followed a time quite close to the Nepali time / IST. China, in a show of domination, has forced Beijing’s time zone onto Tibet!"
Nazi occupying forces had forced Berlin time on not only rest of Germany but all of France, and- presumably -most of the rest of Europe. Paris still follows Berlin time, skewing any possibility of a natural relationship between clock and sun.
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"It felt alive, radiating a benign calm. Crystal clear waters lapped the shores gently, its mirror like sheen stretching from horizon to horizon. Azure blue near the shores, turquoise further on, shades of bluish-emerald here and there. Slowly moving cloud banks formed and dissipated in ever changing shapes and reflected brilliantly on its waters. The mountain range from which Kailash towered up and the hidden Gurla Mandatha range, circled it in a vast cradle."
Beautiful photogphs of the exquisite Mansarovar Lake, Kailash and skies.
" ... All around us, pilgrims – our fellow yatris, had gone into a deeper, devotional trance within themselves. A pujari was setting up for a small puja on the banks while the pilgrims bathed, praying the holy lake’s cleansing waters wash away their worldly sins."
Chatterjee is far more in sync with his convent school upbringing, exposed in that last phrase, than with his name, ancestry, or nation.
But Chatterjee might lose his hard earned abrahmic caste if he were to leave off flagellating pilgrims, so he jumps back from the ecstasy to do so, spending a large paragraph over Hindu bashing.
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"It is believed in Hindu mythology, that Shiv comes down to bathe in the waters of Mansarovar, when the whole world lies deep asleep. For the devout, the most propitious time for ‘His Darshan’ is between 3 am to 5 am. The Dhonis had gone out and sat by the banks of the holy lake till about 2 am, after which they couldn’t take the cold and the howling winds anymore and had come back. Lost in his devout trance, Shekhar da had walked, explored and meditated there till close to 6 30 am. Not a wink of sleep. In the days to come, I would witness the power of that blind faith as he completed the Parikrama, walking with a heavy bag, enduring pain, suffering and illness."
He had to use abusive terminology such as 'blind faith'. Yet he brags of doing yoga, and has as little clue about any connection as a primitive one might about that between head and body.
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" ... While on our way on the bus, we saw a Tibetan pilgrim doing the Parikrama the hard way – prostrating with his hands folded and stretched out in front of him, measuring out his body length on the ground, getting up, walking a few steps to where his hands had been and prostrating again. He would repeat this, all through the Parikrama around Kailash. Excruciating effort at that altitude with the climbs and descents involved, over hard, mountainous terrain. I watched him with fascination as he carried on like this, a continuous murmur of prayers on his lips."
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"Kailash’s first view from Yam Dwar was wreathed in clouds, its South face again. I felt disappointed that it was hidden from clear view, as I was all keyed up in expectation of seeing it up close. Prayer flags snapped in the breeze as clouds swirled around the holy mountain’s face. All around lay a hallowed land ... "
" ... It was surprising to see so much vehicular traffic on the dirt road we were on. All four-wheel drive SUVs, ferrying people and provisions to Drira Phuk or coming back. Drira Phuk is a monastery facing the North face of Kailash and right opposite, would be our boarding house, our destination for the day. ... "
Drira Phuk, again, unlocatable on Google maps.
" ... Every 5 minutes or so a vehicle would pass by raising a cloud of dust! It jarred, this intrusion of vehicles scattering smoke and dust, disturbing the stillness and atmosphere of the place."
Development, Chatterjee, unlike Tibet before Chinese attack and occupation.
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A photograph of Chuku Gompa brings James Hilton's Lost Horizon to mind, and this looks like the perfect prototype of his Shangri-La, but for the steep vertical cliff the latter was supposed to be perched upon, and the green village below.
Kailash, of course, is far more than James Hilton's Karakal, even if it's not where Chuku Gompa is perched - Kailash is far beyond the colonial racist author's imagination, although one suspects he may have seen it and based his writing on it.
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"Sweeping arcs of flanking mountains rose up on either side, cradling a stony, barren valley. Clouds still continued to obscure Kailash’s upper parts. The breeze picked up, snapping and fluttering the prayer flags. I was enthralled seeing the mountain up close. In a while, the tinkling of bells heralded the approach of ponies, and soon a line of them came by, carrying pilgrims. Saurabh was on the last one, looking mighty uncomfortable and holding on tight. I hollered out to him to stop and spend a few minutes at this amazing place.
"But his pony driver was the man in control and they all went by hardly skipping a beat. Déjà vu, from my vision at Saga! ... "
Trust Chatterjee to miss the significance!
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" ... Turning back to the mountain I saw the clouds were starting to clear now. Ramnath and I were elated, and in a matter of minutes Kailash stood fully revealed! The whole West face stood clear in front of us, trains of clouds streaming over its peak against a dazzling blue sky. For the religiously inclined, like Ramnath, this was nothing but a divine Darshan of Shiv’s ‘jata’ (topknot) and an auspicious sign indeed! As the clouds cleared, an intriguing thing happened. Slowly but surely we were both able to see an ‘Om’ shape emerge distinctly, right below the peak of this face. I do not believe in mystical symbolism, but there was no mistaking its distinctive and perfectly formed shape. Did the iconography of ‘Om’ in our written language, originate from here?"
And one can see it, too, in the photograph.
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"The mountain cast a spell, holding us rapt. It was difficult to tear our eyes away now and continue on our way. We lost track of time for a while, absorbing it all and attempting to capture the momentous nature of what we were seeing through our cameras. Finally, reluctantly, after what seemed like hours, but were only 10-15 minutes, we resumed our trek in awestruck silence. The mountain was changing something in us."
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"Just before we reached Drira Phuk, Dawa alerted me that Kailash was going to come into view again. But nothing prepared me for the sight when Kailash revealed itself now. This time in all its commanding glory – the mesmerising, jaw-dropping North face! Free and clear of clouds, it stood massive and dominating. Its jet-black granite face ornamented with alabaster-white bands of snow, culminated in a small hood on its peak. The devout believe this hood to be the ‘Nag’s fan’, the cobra-head that fans out over Shiv in all mythological and religious imagery."
Again, lovely photographs.
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"Right across lies the Drira Phuk monastery, situated at an elevation of 4,900 m, i.e. 16,170 feet, perched high on a hillside. It looks out on this North face, or Kailash’s Gold face as it is also referred to. Three lesser mountains lie in front of Kailash when viewed from this monastery – Chana Dorje (Vajrapani) to the west, Jampelyang (Manjushri) to the east and Chenresig (Avalokiteshvara) in the centre, but Kailash dazzles and commands all attention. I regret being too tired, and not going to the monastery. Apparently it is built around the cave of Drira Phuk and was renovated in the late 1980s. Despite the renovations, the monastery itself dates back to the 13th century. One enters a south facing main entrance into an open-air courtyard, used by pilgrims for tea and rest. From there, one proceeds to the main hall where the Drira Phuk cave is.
"The cave is consecrated to the first explorer and master to circumambulate Kailash, Gotshangpa. It is said that he was led to the cave by a Dri (female yak) goddess named Senge Dongpa (the Lion Faced Celestial Angel) who came to his rescue when he was caught in heavy rainfall after making a pilgrimage down to Lake Mansarovar. Thus the monastery's name - "cave of the female yak horn."
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"In need of shade and rest now, I quickly continued to the lodge visible in front of the monastery. We would be staying the night here. I slowly climbed to the first floor, weary and breathless with the altitude and feeling dehydrated from the sun’s glare. Our room was the middle one in a long dirty corridor. It had large wall to wall bay windows that looked directly into Kailash’s North face. Unnerving in its closeness and grandeur, nothing could have prepared me for this sight. I was dumbstruck for a while, staring out, blinking my eyes!"
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"He shared his travails and experiences with his pony and the pony man. After the noon pit stop at the tea house, the pony man had made him walk, saying the pony was tired and that over the first incline in front of them, he should make it on his own. After walking a bit, Saurabh had insisted on mounting again. Walking under that scorching sun and at that altitude had quickly drained him. Grumblingly the pony man had relented after multiple requests. A bit later at another incline the pony man had again asked Saurabh to get off, but this time he flatly refused. The ride had chafed his inner thighs badly. It is difficult, whether you chose to walk or take a pony.
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"When he reached the lodge, he was surprised to find Shekhar da already there. He was sitting on the steps of the lodge, eating something. Saurabh had shouted out a greeting and walked up to him. Raising his head, Shekhar da had stared at him blankly. For a moment Saurabh felt disconcerted, and called out to him again, waving. A look of recognition finally swam up, like a resurfacing diver. He had smiled weakly, mumbling out a faint ‘Hello’. Shekhar da had pushed himself hard and hadn’t stopped anywhere, even for lunch. He must have been worried about his altitude related ill-health and dug into every ounce of energy and will, walking as fast as he could to make it to the lodge. Ramnath and I arrived roughly an hour and half later, delayed by our photography along the way. When I saw Shekhar da on entering the room, he was sitting cross legged on his bed staring out at Kailash, at its mesmerizing North face that loomed massive through our windows. He was in a trance like state, eyes wide open. He was whispering ‘Baba’, Baba’, over and over again.
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"In some time, Saurabh picked up his camera and started out. He had decided to climb up the steep hill directly behind our lodge. Outside, Kailash dwarfed everything, looming from end to end and towering high. On top of the hill, we could see a forest of prayer flags and it seemed Kailash would be completely and spectacularly visible from there. Seeing Saurabh head out, I was surprised. His breath was labored at the higher altitude here and he looked tired after the painful pony ride under the scorching sun. But some switch seemed to have got flicked on, and I could see a new resolve, a motivation, that had been missing earlier. It was a punishing climb and he went for it slowly and methodically, taking his time. Meanwhile I lay down to rest a while longer.
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"When he returned after an hour or so, his voice and the look in his eyes spoke of an awe and wonder of having seen something magical. He showed me his photographs. Kailash stood revealed in all its glory. Bright, clear sunlight shone on it while prayer flags streamed in a strong wind in the foreground, an unforgettable sight. I sprang out of bed and started putting on my trekking shoes, asking him more on what he saw and how he had felt. With wonder and excitement, he recounted a landscape and view of the holy mountain, that cast a spell. Climbing up had been brutal, but when he had finally reached the top gasping for air, Kailash’s ‘darshan’ (view) had stunned him and befuddled his mind. His exhaustion had disappeared and a deep reverence had washed over him. Battling through pain and suffering, he had hauled himself up the hill, step by agonizing step, and finally come face to face with his God. It seemed like he had just experienced one of his life’s biggest moments, experienced some mystical moment of revelation. He had called his wife over a whatsapp video call, and shared the moment with her. He was one with himself, and for the moment no longer at odds within.
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"Ramnath and I collected our jackets and headed out without a moment to spare. We started up the steep hill directly behind the lodge. I was surprised to be able to climb it pretty comfortably after the exertions of the day. We were now above 16,000 ft. Ramnath followed, stopping frequently and being a bit careful because of his knees. It is very important that each go at their own pace, and not try and match someone else’s. Ill-suited exertions at this altitude could be very unforgiving.
"At the top. My breath came in great whoops. I doubled down to recover. The sight in front of me took away whatever little breath I had! Kailash towered up into the heavens, filling up the whole horizon. I stared at it spell-bound. It rose up behind two hills immediately in front of me, a spectral, immensely powerful sight. The sky had turned grey and brooding. Tier on tier of jet black granite towered up, intermediate bands of white snow & ice glistened. Higher up the upper dome shone pearly white, the ‘Nag-fan’ (cobra head) clearly visible at the peak. A strong gale blew a jet-stream of snow from its top in a while, and the whole scene seemed to pulse with a powerful dynamic energy. Kailash stood mammoth, a timeless and eternal presence. It seemed the only real thing in an illusory universe. It was the anchor holding the whole world. It was the axis mundi, the centre of the world."
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"The weather started to clear, and the sun broke through. The profusion of prayer flags streamed out from a central pole directly in front of me. ... A strong wind snapped and they fluttered furiously, sending prayers in all directions. Beyond stretched a barren boulder-strewn wasteland. This sloped up to the flanks of the adjoining mountains, the intersection of which beckoned deeper into the inner sanctum of Mount Kailash. I lifted up a section of flags and crossed under them, a mysterious force pulling me towards the mountain. As I walked further, Kailash seemed to grow. I kept walking, my feet not wanting to stop. In my mind’s eye, I saw myself walking, walking, eventually disappearing into the distance into it.
"Light started to fade and it became grey and cloudy once again. About half the distance to where the shoulders of the adjoining mountains intersected, I found a large boulder. I clambered up on top to see what lay beyond the intersection and whether I should walk to that point to get an even closer view of Kailash. Sangam had warned us not to stray too far and tire ourselves, given tomorrow’s arduous journey. Though Kailash seemed to be just beyond this intersection, it was a good 4-5 hours of back breaking trekking from here. In between lay some pretty tough and challenging terrain. Several pilgrims come here to do just this, the ‘Charan Sparsh’ (touching the holy feet), they call it. Strenuous trekking, up and down shoulders of intervening mountains, would bring them to the Kangkyam glacier coming down from the holy mountain. Most people perform the Charan Sparsh puja there and return back to Drira Phuk. A few devout pilgrims and hardy adventurers continue over the crevice riddled Kangkyam glacier, as part of the inner Kora experience. A 34 km arduous trek that involves a fair bit of mountaineering experience and equipment.
"Apart from two small monasteries, no humans live along the inner Kailash region. The landscape is entirely made up of rock, crevices, snow & ice. Intrepid travelers and the most devout are finally rewarded when they reach the base of Mount Kailash itself. Those who wish to reach the Saptarishi caves on the mountain itself, have to now negotiate a steep, slippery moraine slope of loose shale and stones. They then climb an almost vertical rock face with ropes. Avalanches and falling stones are a constant danger and ever-present hazard. Helmets are compulsory. I found myself thinking of all this as I stared at the mountain."
" ... But there’s no way one can experience the true nature and magnificence of the scene, without actually being here.
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"After the call I spent some time alone, silently contemplating and savouring where I was. ... "
"Silence, contemplation. The wind had died down to a soft breeze. Words came together from a deep place within and formed another prayer ... Time stopped. I don’t remember for how long, but I stood there awhile, empty of thoughts and emotions. Kailash and I.
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"I started back and reaching the cluster of prayer flags, raised a few streaming lines to duck and cross over. Suddenly I saw a dark figure, his face in shadow, in a long black cape and a wide black hat, pass on my right through the flags. I turned to look but there was no one. My skin prickled in goose bumps! Unbidden, the thought crossed…it was Death himself! I shook free of that eerie moment, shrugging it off as the result of my over active imagination in such environs. I picked my way in the gathering dark towards the lodge, down the steep hillside, unable to get its vision out of my head. A part of me was walking the opposite way, beyond the intersection, beyond the steep climbs and descents and the glacier, towards Kailash.
"There was light still till 8 30 pm. Even after, a gentle glow persisted, fading gradually, silhouetting the holy mountain in gold. Tomorrow would be the big day."
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"Ready and kitted out for the most difficult part of our journey, we stepped out. Ramnath, Shekhar da and I with our backpacks and walking sticks, accompanied by Dawa who was carrying my camera bag, and another sherpa – Dorje, whom Ramnath had engaged to carry his rucksack. Shekhar da was carrying his own bag, though he was feeling quite unwell. In a weak moment he had candidly shared his fear with me, whether he would able to complete the Parikrama this time. He had never been so ill and weak in all the previous trips. Even then, no way would he engage anyone to carry his bag for him, his pride and devotion would have none of that sacrilege!
"Outside, Oh, the glory of the sight! Kailash was brushed in delicate gold pink, lit so by the pre- dawn sun. Dark mountains framed it all around. It looked ethereal, sublimely beautiful, almost floating by itself. Saurabh waved us goodbye and good luck, asking us to be careful. His pony man would come after half an hour after which he would follow too."
A lovely photograph of Kailash here in peach glow, silhouetted against smaller mountains before, titled 'The dawn’s divine light brushes Kailash a golden pink'.
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"We set off along the stony, barren path, looking back from time to time. The pink hues on Kailash slowly turned golden as the sun rose. I picked my way behind Ramnath on the trail. Shekhar da streamed ahead, I guess driven by fear at his condition and wanting to cover as much distance as he could while he still had the energy. I could once again feel my queasiness and weakness. Anxiety or altitude? Or both? We had just slept the night at Drira Phuk at an altitude higher than Darchen, close to a 1000 ft. higher. Would I be able to complete this 2nd day’s trek? 19 kms of arduous trekking, Drira Phuk to Zuthrul Phuk. 8 kms of relentless steep ascent, giddying climbs through most of it, right till the Dolma La pass close to 19,000 feet. Then a precipitous descent of over 2 kms and then further a 9 kms of hiking over rocky paths. I focused on the mountain towards which we were hiking. Gradually my feet, body and breath started finding their own rhythm."
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Neither Zuthrul Phuk nor Dolma La, when searched on Google maps, result on anything where one hopes, near Kailash. Zuthrul Phuk search ends with several restaurants etc., all over India; and Dolma La, Tibet is shown in Himachal Pradesh!
Unlike British colonial regime that merely deformed names beyond recognition, forever roots of contention throughout India post independence, China resorts to complete change of names, a la mutual and other previous colonial regimes throughout India, except that - unlike in most other cases of name changes anywhere else in the world - Tibetan names are wiped out so completely, search on Google maps leads one around the globe, from restaurants in California to anything else but strictly elsewhere, except the spot in Tibet that the name originally does belong to, which bears a new Chinese name without any indication allowed that a Tibetan name ever existed.
This has been done to Mount Kailash, too.
Well, the very claim to Tibet by China being based on the thin thread of Kublai Khan having styled himself 'Mongolian Emperor of China', and having forced Tibet to sign a treaty (which was subsequently refuted and never obeyed by Tibet, through all subsequent centuries), China modeling herself on mughals (who copied other islamic colonial regimes) seems to be as logical as enforced conversion followed by total,change of not only name and attire but cuisine, as well, not to mention automatic divorces and new forced alliances.
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" ... A little ahead Kailash came into view, a different face this time – the North-east face, with a large swathe of its east ‘wall’ visible. Every time I see this mountain it takes my breath away. ... "
A couple of photographs here, a beautiful one captioned
"A glacier can be seen coming down from the East ‘wall’ of Kailash, turning into a stream as it flows into the valley"
Indeed it's visible.
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The other, previous photograh illustrates what Chatterjee talks about a yak driver and his daughter who seemed to be leading some yaks, one balking at sight of Chatterjee and being led away by the driver, while the daughter sat near Chatterjee on another boulder, busy with her phone. He's captioned it
"The yak driver’s daughter on the left and the North east face of Kailash on the right"
One can see her dress, as presumably that of the yak driver, being Tibetan; her face is mostly covered by the Tibetan scarf she's wrapped around her head and neck, a necessity of the climate of the locale, not to mention the elevation.
But that could be, too, effective camouflage for a Chinese agent, set to spy on Indian pilgrims, especially those that don't confirm to the typical - middle aged, religious, easy to ridicule (as Chatterjee did until he's stupefied by the very presence of Mount Kailash) pilgrims model.
Doesn't seem to have occurred to Chatterjee, this possibility! He takes it for granted it was a father and daughter duo herding yaks.
Then again, maybe it was.
May be they needed help, hoped it came from an Indian?
News of relatives who'd managed to escape to India?
News of Dalai Lama?
More?
Typical Tibetans have wanted, through centuries of having settled in Tibet after migrating from Mongolia, nothing but being left alone. And while they trusted Indians - with good reason (until being let found by the first PM of India post Tibet’s occupation by China), they did not trust China - again, with more than good reason.
So it was more than a good chance that she wasn't merely curious.
Come to think of it or taking another look at the photograph, the attire of the young woman isn't traditional Tibetan, but could be anything from Siberia to New England.
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"Resuming, I realised I felt like walking alone, at my own pace, connecting with myself. I felt myself slipping into a meditative, spiritual space in these surroundings, seeking solitude. This was the experience, the day, the journey I had dreamt about for so many years.
"The path from the tea house led sharply up a grassy, boulder strewn mountain. The incline must have been more than 50 degrees and it looked intimidating! I breathed in deeply and started. Step by careful step I labored up, the thin air at this higher altitude a torture, my breath coming and going in frantic bursts. All around was ground frost and delicate, exquisite ice crystals that had formed among lichens and other high altitude vegetation around. Their ethereal beauty seeped through the haze of effort as I climbed. Somewhere around here I started experiencing a lifting of spirits, and with it a feeling of being intensely alive. I smiled, feeling the energizing effect of adrenaline coursing through my blood. Patches of snow started appearing now. Higher and higher I climbed, in control now, no longer anxious. The altitude was now above 17,000 ft., and I guess the lack of oxygen forced my body into higher gear. ... "
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"About halfway up, I came by another one of those Tibetan pilgrims doing it the hard way, prostrating his way up the mountain. There was a fast flowing stream that cut across our path, and we had to cross stepping over a couple of boulders in it. His first prostration across it ended with his hands splashing for purchase in the streambed. He balanced his torso on a boulder. Somehow, he got up and shuffled precisely to that point where his hands had been, and wearily prostrated again. His feet were now in the water and outstretched hands touched the trail on the other side. I stared amazed, waiting for him to complete his crossing. Here I was finding it difficult to walk up, my breath coming in frantic gusts, and this devout madman was doing this, ALL THE WAY! The power of devotion, it inures the mind to suffering and pain. How must he have been feeling? A divine bliss through a fog of pain and weariness? Kept seeing several of them along the way. ... "
So far, so good. But then, Chatterjee must impose his abrahmic schooling.
" ... They believe all their sins will be washed away if they undertake the journey this way, their extreme self-inflicted hardship a ticket to salvation. ... "
It never occurs to him that his ancestors, along with India - and her various religions, in reality all branches of one, including one Tibet followed - had the opposite concepts, drastically different from the later abrahmic creeds' assumption of guilt beginning with birth, or even long before, with or before conception!
Far more likely, they weren't worried about "washing" off sins, or even about earning its opposite - a concept, and therefore a nomenclature, missing in West, in most languages - but simply experiencing, to perhaps a higher degree, what Chatterjee had been experiencing just by looking at Mount Kailash, just by being in the very presence of Mount Kailash.
" ... The payoff – a better re-birth? The benevolence of the Gods? ... "
There are no single authoritative institutions controlling majority faith of India, and its extremely unlikely that even a Dalai Lama ever pronounced an accounting of the sort Chatterjee is pronouncing with such vicious sarcasm against a faith that's merely of Indian origin and thereby not protected against his inflections of insults through - say - inquisition or fatwa; but it's highly unlikely he'd ever attack with equal vigour any pilgrims to any other place if it's West of and across an ocean from, rather than in or close to, India.
Or did he really observe every other place of such pilgrimage and find the pilgrims, what, copying British royalty in conduct thereof?
" ... Or the discovery of a higher self. By the end of the journey, would they slough off their previous life like an old skin and re-emerge truer, better?"
Presumably Chatterjee knows he'd never, having been informed early in life about being sinner of an incurable variety.
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"I paused briefly and took in my surroundings. I had dreamt about how I would feel once here, had spent so many years thinking about how the experience would be? What wondrous and mysterious world would I gaze upon? So much planning, so much anticipation. And now, I was finally here.
"This moment at the top, around 18,600 ft. high, passed without too much deliberation, any sublime earth shattering ‘realization’ or any sort of affected philosophizing of the greatness of the moment. I did not even feel a sense of achievement. What I did experience was a feeling of being intensely alive. I was firmly in the moment and at one with the world. ‘Om’ formed from somewhere deep inside and flew out into the world through my lips."
Funny, Chatterjee never realises he's contradicting himself.
Or he wants to have it both ways. Carefully!
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"Descent. The wind whistled and picked up hard. Innumerable multi coloured flags snapped and cracked sharply. Crossing the pass, we picked our way down, the narrow rocky path leading down in hair-pin switchbacks again, emerging on the other side of the mountain. From here we could see it traversing precariously down the near vertical face of the mountain. It was hardly a couple of feet wide, with the rock face of the mountain rising vertically on its left. To its right a thousand-foot precipitous drop opened out into an incredible and enormous vista, ringed in by towering, craggy peaks. Right in the middle of that giant space, lay Gaurikund - The ‘eternal lake of compassion’, serene and ethereally beautiful, formed by glacial meltwater from the surrounding mountains.
"It lay glittering, a perfect tear-drop shape. Its clear turquoise waters alive with a supernatural beauty amidst lifeless, barren rock. A line of serrated water ‘bars’ were formed behind it, and a smaller pond lay close to its head at one side. It lay like some fabled jewel in a tale of Gods and Demons, other worldly and spectral. Massive grim sentinels of mountains stood guard around it, austere and forbidding. The whole scenery was bare and rocky, devoid of any vegetation. Without doubt this was one of the most wondrous sights I have laid my eyes on, in my whole life.
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"According to Hindu mythology, this is where Parvati bathed, the ‘Parvati Sarovar’ (another name for Parvati is ‘Gauri’, and for Sarovar is ‘Kund’, and hence the name ‘Gaurikund’). One day while bathing here, she created Ganesh with some clay and sandalwood paste from her body, moulding his form and then breathing life into it. She then stationed her new-born son at the entrance of Gaurikund, to stop anyone from entering while she bathed. Just then, Shiv and his army (Bhootaganas) came by, but was stopped by Ganesh, who challenged him. Flying into a murderous rage at this disrespect, Shiv ordered the Bhootaganas to teach the boy a lesson and they attacked. Ganesh fought valiantly and Shiv’s army were held at bay. Seeing this Shiv couldn’t control himself anymore and stepping into battle himself, cut off the boy’s head. Seeing this Parvati broke down in grief, upon which Shiv came to his senses and realized his terrible mistake. Parvati implored him to bring Ganesh back to life and a remorseful Shiv left wondering what to do. In this state, he came upon an elephant while walking through a jungle. He cut off its head and carrying it back, placed it on Ganesh’s body, breathing life back into him. This fantastic legend has many a hidden meaning ... "
"I got a sense of just how big this whole vista was when I tried to take a picture of what I was seeing. I could manage to fit in only three quarters of the whole panorama into the phone’s landscape display.
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"On the way down, Dawa and I got talking. Every year, he was away from home on mountaineering expeditions and journeys like this in Nepal or Tibet for more than 7-8 months. He had showed me pictures of his kids and wife, his home back in Nepal, while we were walking on the high plateau towards Dolma La. The Kailash Parikrama was a walk in the park for him, having summited Everest, Makalu and several of the highest mountains of the world as a climbing Sherpa. I had listened with fascination while he recounted stories of his Everest climb, right till Camp V, above the Death zone (above 8000 m or 26,247 ft.). Listening to him, while we made our way down these rocky paths, images floated up, of intrepid mountaineers testing themselves, pushing their limits to the very breaking point. This journey I was on, in no way represented anything so adventurous or dangerous as theirs, yet was the most difficult one I had undertaken till date. ... "
" ... the mountaineer is drawn by the love of mountains for their own sake. The real purpose of climbing is to experience the mountain and the very form of life it offers when climbing it. The adventure, the dangers, the soul-stirring sights, the fury of a blizzard or the fear of an avalanche or frostbite. The trust and bonds formed with climbing partners, with the Sherpas, people like Dawa, can make the difference between life and death on such high mountains. Through it all, we come face to face with who we are and who we are meant to be. Whether its climbing a mountain like Everest, or doing the Kailash Parikrama on foot, crossing the Gobi or journeying deep into the Amazon, I realized these pursuits tell us about our true self, revealing us to ourselves, should we find the courage and tenacity to see them through.
"The Gujarati aunty suffering terrible sciatic pain in her legs, hardly able to walk properly. Saurabh, suffering from sleep apnea, severe breathlessness and panic attacks since Saga. Or Shekhar da, dogged with ill-health this 7th time on the trail. They were all here. The aunty would have gritted herself through pain, but she would not have sat at home and accepted her fate. She had to go as far as she could. Saurabh found a hidden reserve of will and was somewhere ahead of me on his pony, tenaciously battling through his suffering and fear. Shekhar da somewhere behind me, had refused to engage a porter because he had never needed anyone to carry his load the previous 6 times! He was laboring on doggedly, coming face to face with the reality of his advancing age and weakening constitution, yet reconnecting with a part of himself that was resolute in its certainty of purpose, despite the faltering steps. He used to be a bodybuilder in his heyday, much in demand for shows and competitions in and around Belur, Kolkata.
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"The road was more or less level now but very rocky. ... The afternoon sun beat down hard with passing clouds providing intermittent relief, but infrequently. Mountains stretched away on both sides, one after the other without break. A stream meandered beside the road for company in this narrow, grassy valley. Tibetans, mostly pilgrims and other local wayfarers passed every now and then, walking fast in a curious shuffling gait. Most overtook me and disappeared into the distance, murmuring prayers while turning their prayer wheels or counting rosary beads."
" ... We were walking at an elevation of above 15,500 feet and I could feel a deep weariness slowly creep up.
"The road climbed in stretches, nothing too steep considering what I had been through earlier in the day. But it was enough to suck my breath out and leave me gasping. Soldiering on by and by, another couple of kilometers passed on that rocky road, mountains ebbing and rising around me in a steady march. Somewhere along the way I remember feeling as if the road was dissolving into a muddy swamp, a sludge through which I was struggling through. The more I walked, the more the road seemed to telescope into the distance! I carried on doggedly, my heavy boots thudding down over rocks in the road.
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Chatterjee, in midst of being exhausted and in pain with a headache, doesn't forget to notice Tibetans, including those he'd seen in process of doing the prostration, tear with bare hands and teeth into raw meat. He slso manages to be snide about description thereof.
He forgets - executive and other power meals, and indeed preference, in high society in US, is that of what they call 'rare'; and using expensive China or silverware does not change that food any more than an Fifth Avenue address or an Irish linen tablecloth do.
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"Ahead the road disappeared and re-appeared around successive bends, continuing to test me sorely. I trudged on for what seemed like an eternity. It was easier when the road was relatively straight as then one could see into the distance and fix a goal, fooling oneself that the distant turn would be one of the last few. The ‘easy walk’ had turned into an ocean of suffering. I had been walking, ascent, descent and now this, since 7 30 am in the morning, and my stamina and strength were starting to run low now. It was now close to 4 30 pm.
"I couldn’t help myself and asked Dawa again, “How much more time will it take?” “One more hour”, he replied. For a moment I thought he was joking, but no such luck! On I went digging deep into reserves I didn’t know existed. I could feel blisters developing on the soles of my feet despite my heavy trekking shoes. Every step was an agony now, the headache vicious.
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"After about another half an hour, the road started switch-backing into a rapid downward descent and it mercifully grew cloudy. Hiking down a steep stretch an open valley yawned and ominous, black clouds suddenly loomed on the horizon. It started getting dark. Lightning cracked in that low blue-black welter of clouds, followed by peals of thunder. Thick, fat drops started pelting down out of the blue and the wind gathered itself into a gale. The wind gained strength with a peculiar whistling sound, swirling dust all around in great gusts. I held on to my hat with one hand and hunched down. Dawa started walking faster and so did I, following his lead. I don’t know how I managed to pick up pace in my condition, but I did. Fear egged me on, of getting caught in the open in one of those Tibetan storms that come out of nowhere, pelting pigeon-egg sized hailstones, or rain with high velocity winds exceeding a 100 km per hr. Storm winds become ferocious here as nothing stands in their way, in their sweep through the vast flat-lands.
"It started raining hard. I put my head down, zeroed into my breathing and marched faster, getting wetter and wetter by the minute. I was wearing my waist pouch outside my rain-proof jacket, but was so far gone by now that I had no energy left to untie it and wear it inside. I blocked out everything and marched away. It became quite dark, the wind tearing about fearfully, and the pelting rain stung my exposed skin. Wild nature, whipping up everything! There was nothing for miles around, no place for shelter, just barren rock and mountains through the haze of the storm.
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"I could hear my breathing above the hissing rain, my feet going like a machine, my whole attention and focus on the immediate path in front of me. I was in a trance by now, focused on my steady march like a robot. I had blocked out any thoughts of Zuthrul Phuk. I was just marching away, placing one foot in front of another. Dawa was about 30 feet ahead of me, but moving faster. 20 odd minutes later, I rounded the last bend and there in the distance was the monastery, the lodge below it, and a few tents in a large grassy plain in front. The scene was bleak and rain swept, the skies thundered and lightning continued to crack intermittently. It was very cold now and getting colder by the minute. I felt a massive surge of relief on seeing the lodge. The sound of my boots on the road and the sound of my breathing was all I could hear. Even the sound of the rain had disappeared from my consciousness."
" ... They were eager to hear how it had all gone for me, and I found myself launching into what I had experienced through the day. The initial weakness and then the wondrous feeling while ascending, the ethereal beauty of Gaurikund, the steep descent, but most of all the ‘easy walk’ from the tea house, and the final stretch that had levelled me flat. The irony of what we think will happen and what really happens."
" ... Four Tibetan pilgrims were prostrating their way through, as if eternally, one behind the other. There was a young woman in this group, trailing a bit. Dawa told me it takes them approximately 6 months to recover from the brutal ordeal they put themselves through. It takes them about 7 days to complete the whole Parikrama this way. ... "
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" ... The SUV was warm and comfortable after the bone chilling cold outside. Night broke into dawn across the desolate landscape as we drove through rough roads towards Darchen."
" ... The lobby was full of a large Gujarati group who were wrapping up their pilgrimage, all old uncles and aunts. Must have been over a hundred of them. The State of Gujarat contributes the single largest population of pilgrims here, it seems. ... "
Amazing, because Gujarat hasn't been associated, ever, with either adventure or foolhardiness.
So this amounts to a quiet courage that's not advertised.
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"When we finally walked in for breakfast, all the Gujarati aunties and uncles there, who had not gone on the Parikrama, got up and rushed towards us with folded hands. At first we couldn’t believe what they were doing and why?! They made a beeline to touch our feet and seek our blessings! Embarrassedly, we somehow managed to fend them off. They hugged us, showering us with good wishes and blessings. Unable to undertake the Parikrama themselves, they considered us privileged and blessed by the Gods to have been able to make this journey. And so they showed their reverence and devotion to Him via us, apologising and contrite for not having been able to go. It was deeply touching to see the emotion in their eyes. There were only two Gujarati uncles who had come along with us, and only one of them had completed the entire Parikrama ... All the rest had stayed back waiting for us to complete our journey. The Dhonis had completed it too, on ponies, and they arrived along with the Gujarati uncle, along with Shekhar da & Ramnath, an hour later.
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"Breakfast over, we boarded our buses. It promised to be a long day all the way to Saga, where we would reach by nightfall. I felt empty and devoid of any thought. Felt slightly queasy all through the journey, especially towards the end. It was evening by the time we reached the petrol pump in the New Dongba area, that beautiful wildlife zone where I had seen the Goa (Tibetan antelope) herd and the birds. ... "
"Suddenly I saw a solitary Black necked crane walking in the distance, in the midst of a large grassy field! I immediately shouted out to Ramnath and Saurabh to come see. This was one of the most prized birds to see in Tibet, considered holy and a lucky omen. Pity they couldn’t locate it, as the bus sped past and the sighting lasted less than ten seconds. I felt fortunate and thrilled to have seen it on its solitary walk.
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"On the bus again. It’s night outside, though its 6 45 am. Sleepy, but can’t sleep. Passing by a large lake, a slumbering line of mountains loom behind it and dark masses of clouds hover above. It’s a lovely sight, the cobalt blue waters of the serene lake in the pre-dawn light. Saurabh wakes up and points towards it."
Beautiful photogphs of the ethereal lake and skies.
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"We climb towards a high pass over which clouds were streaming in. On the distant horizon are giant snow clad peaks and the rising sun lights them up against the pale blue sky. Clouds stream in as we cross the pass and quickly obscure the whole view. We drive on and lose ourselves in these thick clouds, visibility down to about 10 feet or so."
Another beautiful photogph, of the said peaks of Himalaya - which, since they are facing East, from Mount Kailash, are the ranges that may just include Everest, or Annapurna.
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"The unrelenting pace of our return journey hit home when we stepped into Nepal again. I looked all around me. Those same thickly forested mountains towered above us, their tops wreathed in clouds as when we had seen when we entered Tibet, just 5 days back! Tibet…was already becoming a memory, the inexorable march of time..."
"We boarded our buses and set off for Syaprubesi, where we would be staying the night. The hotel there turned out to be basic, but honest. Lunch was the best yet, wholesome, homely and very tasty Nepali food cooked by the hostess herself. ... "
" ... Misty forested mountains towered high all around and the Bhote Kosi cut down a deep gorge below it."
"Evening brought with it very pleasant weather, cool and refreshingly scented with pure, mountain air. It was a pleasure to breathe normally and relax after the last few days of battling against the elements. ... "
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"Ramnath shared with us that he was the ‘Chetan’ in ‘Chota Chetan’, India’s first 3D film which had released when Saurabh, I and him were around 9-10 years old! The guy had won a national award for the best child actor at the time. It transpired that he had acted in two more movies before that. The director had been scouting for talent for the lead ‘Chetan’ role, and someone had been impressed watching him on stage in a school play, and talked about it to the director. Ramnath’s family was a conservative one of lawyers practicing in the Kerala High Court, settled in Cochin over the last 200 years or so, originally Palakkad Brahmins from Tamil Nadu. Acting in films was a tricky subject, and his father would have none of it anymore, concerned about his studies, attendance at school and the ‘influence’ of the world of movies. The Director’s patience and gently working on the proposal with his grandfather and school headmaster paved the way."
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" ... Ramnath recounted how his father, a senior advocate in the Kerala High Court was selected to be a judge. One day when the announcement was only 3-4 days away, they had all travelled to attend a wedding in the city. Ramnath was then about 27 years old or so. While returning they had hailed an auto. His father elected to walk it while the rest of them went in the auto.
"When he didn’t arrive home even after a couple of hours, they got worried and went in search. The next day, the police were alerted and the community informed. Sick with worry and somehow holding his family together, Ramnath found himself running here and there, trying to make sense of it all. A few days later, his father’s body was recovered from the river, along which he had started out walking back home. The world came crashing down around them. His mother could not come to terms with it. His elder brother broke down.
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"Today he is a successful civil lawyer with clients across, work bringing him sometimes to the Supreme Court as well. He says he’s a workaholic, and when not working, likes to takes off across India to temples and ‘Tirth-sthaans’ (pilgrimages) alone, with only a backpack and a camera. Most of the times he stays at temples along the route, sleeping on their premises decked out like an ash smeared sadhu, clad in a saffron lungi."
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" ... It started raining when we passed through the Lamtang national park. Waterfalls tumbled down all along the road, and mist swirled through the lush, green forests on the mountainsides. The rough roads were slushy mud, and it was testament to the driver’s skill that we didn’t go skidding over into the gorge! This was the beautiful Red Panda country we had admired while on our way to Tibet. I made a mental note of coming back someday to explore its secrets."
" ... Kathmandu jams would put the ones in India to shame. We finally reached ... A nice hot shower, the first one after the start of the Parikrama on the 6th, a full five days ago!"
" ... The immensity of clouds, blue skies, sweeping vistas and barren landscapes that had cast such a spell, were now more than 3 kilometers above our heads! ... "
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"In the context of survival, material success and societal approval, these are useful instincts to live by, nothing wrong there. They helped me and Saurabh better our lot and make a life as we know it, afford this journey, for example.
"But the simpler, inner self is eternally driven by a more fundamental quest,
"Who am I?
"What’s out there?
"Till some experience, moment or journey in our lives lifted the fog, we were never really able to see the quiet power of these two. The journey had cleared our hearts and minds. We realised this is what had been driving us, unseen. And would continue to do so till our final moments."
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"Ramnath’s plan was to continue on a temple trip across Nepal over the next four days, after which he would return to Cochin. He had left early morning. Shekhar da’s flight back to Kolkata was the next day, and we bid him farewell after breakfast. He looked a bit lost, sad to see us go. He looked as if wondering what to do through the day, alone, now that everything was over.
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CONTENTS
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Acknowledgments i
1 The Beginning Pg 1
2 29th August 2019 - Kathmandu Pg 6
3 30th August – Pashupatinath, Buddha Neelkanth & Thammel Pg 11
4 31st August – A day of travel to the Nepal-Tibet border Pg 19
5 1st September – Into Tibet! Pg 25
6 2nd September – Journey to 15,000 feet, the high altitude Tibetan plateau Pg 30
7 3rd September – A day of acclimatization at Saga Pg 44
8 4th September – Mansarovar and our first view of Kailash Pg 49
9 5th September – A scare and finally to Darchen, at the feet of Kailash Pg 69
10 6th September – Kailash Parikrama. Day 1 Pg 83
11 7th September – Kailash Parikrama. Day 2 Pg 106
12 8th September – The return journey begins Pg 134
13 9th September – Travelling across Tibet, back to Nepal Pg 136
14 15 10th September – Return to Kathmandu and an unforgettable night
Postscript Pg 141 Pg 144
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REVIEW
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Acknowledgments i
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"I read many books on travel into the Kailash Mansarovar area, but two that stand out are ‘The Sacred Mountain’, by John Snelling, and the second is Sven Hedin’s, ‘My Life as an Explorer’, in which the legendary explorer gives an account of his adventures and explorations into this area, more than a century back. These two books are a must read for anyone wanting to understand the mystique and allure of Kailash and Mansarovar."
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August 29, 2022 - August 29, 2022.
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1. The Beginning
Pg 1
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Author speaks of reading an account, of a journey he took together with George Schaller, by Peter Mathiessen.
"The quest was also for the elusive snow leopard, seen so far only twice by westerners at that time. Seemed like a worthwhile pursuit, away from a world that wasn’t making much sense anyway. In many ways the journey he undertook was an internal, meditative one, as he travelled through dizzying landscapes and lived with simple mountain folks eking out their primitive, hand-to-mouth existence in a hardscrabble land. Yet their simplicity, welcoming nature and forbearance arising from a deep spiritual faith left a lasting impression on him. In the course of his amazing adventure with G, he travelled deep into his own world of confusion, as he walked further and further towards the Crystal Mountain in Dolpo. They finally reached an ancient monastery called Shey Gompa near this mountain. Peter spent his days in exploration & meditation while G roamed the barren highlands looking for and recording Bharal populations. You have to read the book to understand the beauty of this hidden world Peter discovered, and his own realizations that he shared so eloquently.
"This book ignited a thirst for adventure, a desire to see some of the most remote and mysterious places on Earth for myself. I found myself drawn to documentaries on Dolpo, and Mustang, another mystical and remote region in Nepal, and through my internet trawls eventually stumbled upon an arresting video, the Mount Kailash Journey with Roshi Joan Halifax and friends in 1987 on Youtube. I was taken by the look of joy & bliss in Joan & her friends’ eyes, vignettes of their journey set to the haunting background score of ‘The Tsok Offering’, a Tibetan chant of awakening sung by the Lama Gyurme, and arranged by a French musician – Jean-Phillippe Rykiel. Shots of Mt Kailash, weathered faces of local Tibetans reflecting the land’s harshness, the stark desolation of the surrounding high altitude desert and magnificent, immense landscapes on the roof of the world, an average elevation of 15,000 ft. plus above sea level, caught my imagination. I had to see it and experience it for myself! I had never been on such a journey before, and the adventure it represented was a strong pull."
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Chatterjee planned a journey to Spiti to test himself in safer but similar landscape and slightly lesser elevation above sea.
" ... Spiti is a region in Himachal Pradesh that lies beyond the Himalayas – in the Trans Himalayan region, and shares the same topography and climatic conditions as that of Ladakh & Tibet. It is a land with landscapes and features like nothing I had ever seen before. Desolate and barren lands stretch out under clear blue vaults of sky and clouds, horizon to horizon. The eye sees over distances unimaginable in our plains or even mountains. Glacial melts gush down in sparkling mountain streams, cutting their way through stony, boulder strewn immensity. Downstream, they transform into raging, frothy monsters. Bare mountains tower up, their layers of sedimentary rock exposed, each layer signifying a different time epoch. The whole landscape is stark, silently empty and completely wind-blown. It is bereft of the lushness of life and people we are used to on our plains.
"The scale and features of the land reduce the traveller to a tiny dot, at the fickle mercy of elements. ... our first day travelling into its interior, a flash flood had washed off the road we were travelling on, almost sweeping us and our vehicle away! We had passed through Kunzam La, an eerie, divine pass, where a couple of Lama skulls grinned down from a tall pole atop a chorten, while the wind whipped the prayer flags fearfully in the emptiness of surrounding glaciers and high mountains. We had stumbled upon an 800 year old elaborate and complex fresco of the Buddha and other deities, painted across the walls of an empty locked up room, in the precariously perched and gradually collapsing Dhankar monastery, handiwork of ancient Kashmiri artists. We had stayed with a family in Komic village, the highest village with a motorable road in India at 15000 feet. Their younger son had been pledged to a monastery to be a monk. This little cherub had left a lasting impression on us with his wonderful smile and a Bodhisattva like presence. Our last day had been a trek to the exquisitely beautiful Chandertal lake, where we had hiked for hours in the solitude of the remote and rarefied highlands. I found my love for photographic expression during the journey and carried that gift gratefully back with me."
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Chatterjee asked another friend in 2019 about going to Kailash Mansarovar.
" ... The idea of this ‘Yatra’ immediately appealed to him. I proceeded with getting quotes and schedules from one of the shortlisted Nepal agencies – Richa Treks. I remember having a conversation with Saurabh on the itinerary & cost options they had shared, asking him if he was 100% in. The day was MahaShivratri and it turned out that although he was an agnostic, he believed in Shiv. He had always been attracted to the ideal of Shiv and had always held him close like a talisman. He emotionally & impulsively committed to it, Om Nama Shivay!
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"We decided to book ourselves in the 15th September batch of Yatris, leaving ex-Kathmandu, the last group of the season in 2019. At that time of the year the skies would be the clear and the crowds thin. It would colder though ... "
" ... We were in for a bit of a shock! It transpired that China had issued a sudden directive for tourists to exit Tibet before the 10th of September 2019. ... "
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"I shared my concerns with Saurabh, and after some waffling over hypothetical and unknown scenarios, we figured it was now or never! Similar doubts would crop up next year as well, who knows what may come up then in our personal or professional lives. We finally found ourselves adjusted in an itinerary starting 29th of August, and due to return by the 12th of September, Kathmandu to Kathmandu. ... "
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August 29, 2022 - August 29, 2022.
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2. 29th August 2019 - Kathmandu
Pg 6
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Chatterjee describes arrival in Kathmandu Airport and journey thence, after a photograph thst illustrates his description of rivers, seen from air, meandering through forests.
" ... Our bus with 30 aged Gujaratis and us, qualified for another surreal image. An impossible assortments of nuts in a beat up tin can with windows, on the journey of their lives! I was absorbed by the sights, sounds and smells of the new city, soaking it all in eagerly. Before an hour was up, we arrived at our hotel – the Royal Singhi, and were treated to some terrible lunch. The rooms were comfortable, but with a vintage AC system that took more than half an hour to cool down the afternoon swelter."
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They were briefed by the tour proprietor in the evening at the hotel.
" ... Unhurriedly and clearly he took us through it day by day. We would gradually gain altitude, and after crossing into Tibet, we would need to acclimatize, and hydrate ourselves daily with at least 3-4 litres of water. “Eat regularly”, he said, “Even if some of you do not feel hungry or feel nauseous because of the altitude”. “As you travel beyond the first stop inside Tibet – Kerung, and proceed to Saga, your bodies will struggle to acclimatize to the significantly depleted oxygen in the air, as you will climb from 9000 ft. to 15,000 ft. in a single day”. “At Saga you will be staying four to a room at the hotel, and will need to rest the whole of the next day acclimatizing. You should not expect room service and other creature comforts like in your regular travels. At Mansarovar even basic facilities like toilets cannot be expected and you would be staying six to a room”."
Enough to put some of us off.
"Once we reached Mansarovar, he advised us not to venture out alone in the night to answer nature’s call or otherwise. We should remember to inform a friend, family member or someone in the room. Many people had conked off during past journeys, even the simple effort of walking, combined with the effect of oxygen deprivation, leading to loss of consciousness or worse. He advised us to report immediately to the support team if we started feeling uneasy and not to hide it. To be understanding and accommodative of the privations of the journey from here on, to be respectful of each other, the locals, officials and accompanying Sherpa staff. To not get off the bed immediately after waking up, to take one’s time to catch one’s breath. To avoid walking too far outside the Ashram at Mansarovar, as there was a very real danger of being attacked by feral Tibetan dogs – giant, wild mastiffs.
"And then he got to Darchen, the doorway to Kailash and the launching pad for the Parikrama around the sacred mountain. His tone grew sombre. This place would be difficult. The Parikrama would test those of us who decided to undertake it. It was not for everybody, and each of us would need to evaluate our condition beyond Darchen and our preparedness for what lay ahead. Their staff would measure our blood oxygen levels daily and keep a watch. Those deciding to proceed with the Parikrama on ponies, and those who decided to walk but wished to hire porters for their bags, would need to inform the staff in advance. 100% non-refundable advances would need to be paid for these to the locals there. Day 1 of the Parikrama would be an 8 km trek, about 7-8 hrs of walking, culminating in a halt at a lodge opposite the Drira Phuk monastery. The debilitating effects of high altitude would surely hit us and we would all need to be careful, making sure we drink a lot of water. Day 2 would be the toughest day of the journey for those who decided to go for it. 19 kms, which meant about 10 hrs or more of an arduous trek, the first 8 kms a steep and relentless ascent from 15,500 ft to close to 19,000 ft, then a couple of kilometers of steep, precarious descent, finally followed by 9 more kms of hiking. This would place demands on us we weren’t used to, and which we shouldn’t underestimate. We would need to be careful of the sun at that altitude, ... "
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" ... Shekhar Biswas, the other Bengali in our group was then invited to come up and share his experiences. This was his 7th Kailash Yatra with Richa Treks. 59, stocky, he shyly mumbled a few words in Hindi, not really comfortable in anything outside of Bengali. He had sat through Ketan Bhai’s nautanki like a doped out Buddha. Bengali Bhodrolok of the old stock and an old veteran of Kailash, he wore a beatific look of other-worldliness. Or was it the look of confusion, on finding himself on the trail yet again? As I would find out later, the Parikrama around Kailash, it’s ‘darshan’, was an addiction for him. It gave his life meaning. A deeply devout and simple man, he hailed from Belur, a small town on the outskirts of Kolkata. In the days to come he & Ramnath would become our close friends, their paths merging with ours. Meanwhile, a few bright, industrious Nepali women had set up shop behind us. Walking sticks, caps, gloves, head-lamps, batteries, and what not. They had it all on display by the time the briefing ended. Thermos flasks too. And at prices that seemed pretty attractive, but which we later figured were roughly twice the price than in Tibet. I bought a green walking stick, a thermos flask and batteries for my head-lamp. Sorted."
Chatterjee and his friend Saurabh took advantage of local low prices to nurse their colds.
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August 29, 2022 - August 29, 2022.
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3. 30th August – Pashupatinath, Buddha Neelkanth & Thammel
Pg 11
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" ... Kathmandu time is 15 minutes ahead of India’s. ... "
And people think India us odd for the GMT+5:30 timeliness, rather than the even now hours elsewhere.
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"Pashupatinath temple. Our group got off the 2 buses and walked up a road leading to the temple gates. Bustling, colourful, a mad confusion of bikes and small vans honked and belched black smoke. We gingerly picked our way through the hooting madness trying not to get run over. Forced shopping at ‘Agrawal’s Rudraksh Centre’ followed, that Ketan Bhai had so thoughtfully mandated for his flock of Gujaratis."
'Forced' is hardly appropriate, since one can't imagine young adult males bring beaten into buying anything, much less arrested for refusing to do so.
The accompanying photograph shows a glitzy shop with exhibited ware seemingly far more in line with jewellery than with the inexpensive Rudraksha strings sold outside temples and across pilgrimage spots at every stop of a bus.
" ... I finally got conned into buying a Rudraksh bracelet from a guy we had met the night before at the hotel. He had exchanged our US dollars for Nepali & Chinese currency and here he was again, behind the counter, part of the ‘system’ feeding off us tourists. No doubt our very own Ketan Bhai’s unseen fingers were at the till here too, in association with ‘Agrawal’ and God knows who else. The commerce of religion feeds off the beliefs, superstitions and fears of such gullible, ‘faithful’ billions."
If Chatterjee didn't have guts to refuse to buy, he ought to introspect about his own lack of courage and fortitude, rather than resort to cheap abuse of a faith that lacks politicisation, fraud and systematic institutionalisation of power, that for example subjects a Galileo to inquisition.
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"The temple itself was quite interesting, large and labyrinthine. It design followed a story-telling in its layout of pathways, sub temples and hierarchy of several deities placed around the central temple. A towering brass plated Nandi faced the sanctum sanctorum, and its massive gleaming bulk welcomes as you walk through the temple’s entrance. Once inside I realized how imposing it was, about 15 feet high of gleaming burnished brass. The main central temple has a distinct Buddhist / Pagoda influence despite being a Shiv temple, one of the most holy places in the world for Hindus. ... "
Ancient architecture related to culture, which differed geographically, but replacing prior Hindu deities with subsequent Buddhist lore would hardly change building styles.
" ... Its corners sweep up into the skies and carvings of intricate figures, deities and gargoyles stare back from its higher walls and supporting beams. Many of them are distinctly Tibetan and demon-like. ... "
If one sees temples in South India, a visitor from say, Pune or Delhi or Mumbai might get startled seeing the fearsome lions that look distinctly Cambodian if one is somewhat familiar with latter; but that's architecture in South India.
Temples look very different across India despite Deities being same, albeit possibly looking different.
" ... The sanctum sanctorum houses the 4 open sides from which the 4 faces of Shiv look out, each a different mudra, jet black and massive."
And there's a major difference! Most Shiva temples do not show a face or body of Shiva, through most of India. Unless they have been constructed with a view to bowing to another culture, for example in North India.
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Judging from some paragraphs next (and some before), the repeated insistence Chatterjee places on emphasis about how he not only lacks faith in majority religion of India, but makes it obvious that he intends to deliberately seek to give offense, one infers that this book is written with kowtowing to an abrahmic and generally Western readership in mind, even though obviously it was meant to make money through buyers chiefly of India, to be sold to those who'd care about the subject of title and cover.
It'd have been decent to avoid the deliberate, repeated and strenuous efforts to give offense.
At that, those who buy this for sake of reading about the journey and the place are unlike to care about what Chatterjee believes. So the belligerence he's wearing proudly is just that, like that of a bully going about on a beach with balled fists raised in a pose to strike, while everyone else is enjoying a time with friends, family, ocean, skies, light, breezes and stars.
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"With little time to spare, I ran back to the shop in time to join the last few stragglers of our group trooping in. The next temple, the Buddha Neelkanth, also known as the ‘Sleeping Vishnu’ temple was an interesting one. There’s a curious legend about it. Apparently a Newari (a Nepali caste) by the name of Buddha (old man) Neelkanth owned the land. One day, he shifted some bushels of wheat from one place to another on this piece of land, and having completed the work, went off somewhere. Coming back, he found the bushels back in their original place. Confused, he moved them again. A while later he found the bushels back in their original place. This went on a couple of times to his growing alarm, pointing to the work of gods or demons. The terrified old man reported these unearthly events to the King. The King ordered him to excavate the land, upon which a fully formed statue of a sleeping Vishnu was discovered here. ... "
So far, interesting. Next, Chatterjee hurries to offend.
" ... Such a well finished and beautiful statue would have taken years to complete, so much so for the factual basis of this myth. But I wondered how this story or legend came to be? Was it a ‘story’ to justify the Raja’s land grab from Buddha Neelkanth, or maybe that of a crafty and powerful minister in the Raja’s court?"
Across India, temples and Deities thereof being saved from deliberate destruction by having priests bury them, or hide them, are all too common, from Bihar Maharashtra to Pondicherry. Then there are other, natural calamities that could have the effect.
But Chatterjee has to not only assume that Hinduscheat and lie, he has to loudly say so, without thinking or asking a question.
Another person might make a different choice, and end up doing valuable research involving archeology, geophysics, history and more.
But perhaps this offense was the whole intention, not just of the wring and publication of this book, but the very trip?
Most adventurers aim at a literally higher adventure, Mount Everest, which now has been supporting practically a tourism industry, with chains of climbers seen ascending and descending simultaneously most days.
Chatterjee chose something a tad less of adventure - just so he'd make money off a billion of India and score points with later abrahmics by offending the former.
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August 29, 2022 - August 29, 2022.
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4. 31st August – A day of travel to the Nepal-Tibet border
Pg 19
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"It felt good to be on the road, travel creating its own rhythm. After a couple of hours, the road wound following the twists and turns of the Trishuli river. As we proceeded its character changed from tarred to semi-tarred, and finally to a squelchy, slippery mud path, with no pretense of any road like surface! Coming up to a bridge spanning the Trishuli, we ground to a halt in a long traffic jam, stuck behind large commercial vehicles and other buses. A large 8 tyre truck had got stuck on the road across the bridge and I could see its tires spinning in the mud as the driver revved to break free. Someone fetched a large stone and placed it behind the spinning wheel and the jam finally cleared. We too eventually passed the same spot where it had got stuck. A large chunk of the road had broken away where it bordered a precipitous drop into the Trishuli. We gingerly made our way through the remaining stretch."
Photographs of the lovely locale dot the text, here one of the river bordered by bright green vistas.
Chatterjee, of course, continues offensive writing, this paragraph about Nepal. It's not quoted here.
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"Glad to leave Battar behind, our bus eventually climbed into higher mountains and cooler climes after a couple of hours of driving. The refreshing scent of pines and the sharp, mountain air was invigorating after the sticky heat of the plains. We passed a place called Ghumti Bazaar and entered what seemed like Red Panda country, advertised on boards by the forest division. All around were beautiful cloud forests with mossy towering trees, their upper reaches cloaked in mist. It looked magical and other worldly, a scene straight out of some fairy tale. Little wonder, as we were approaching one of Nepal’s most pristine national parks, the Lamtang National Park, a high altitude biosphere and home to the Red Panda, the Himalayan Monal and the elusive Snow Leopard in its upper reaches, among many other rare species."
" ... As we climbed along this precarious road, the landscapes opened out in dream-like vistas of pristine mountains and rolling clouds. The river flowed through a gorge deep below, a narrow silver ribbon. We were pretty much driving through clouds in stretches. Waterfalls gushed here and there and all around was dense lush green.
"After crossing a small town called Syaprubesi, the road flattened out, rockier than ever, running alongside the beautiful Bhote Kosi river. Roaring in a thunderous flow, frothing blue and white, this wild river leapt and tumbled, a sight to behold. It was impossible to speak above its noise. ... "
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"When we got there, we saw this very strange looking Chinese van with one of the lowest ground clearances I have ever seen. So low I wouldn’t have driven it in Gurgaon over the road bumps there, lest it got stuck and sway back & forth forever! It was caught good and proper, sunk to its axles in some very deep, nasty looking mud on the ‘road’. Its driver turned out to be a dunce of the highest order and so was its Chinese owner who spoke no language apart from his own! What in heaven’s name had prompted them to make this journey from Tibet on this grossly unsuitable vehicle and over such treacherous terrain? Ramnath & I would have had a hearty laugh had it not been for our situation. Our driver and we took charge and after a series of collaborative manoeuvres, aided by our driver’s considerable experience and skill (who had now taken over from that dunce of a driver), the van finally jumped free, minus a few body parts and hastily scurried down the road like a scuffed rabbit, a hilarious absurdity in that landscape.
"We finally reached Timure, a giant ugly and soul-less truck stop of a village. ... "
Considering it's name - after the despotic killer so despised, he's always remembered only for his lame leg - why would anything by that name be any better?
" ... A border village, the exit and entry point between Nepal & Tibet, all of these trucks were perpetually lined up right till the immigration and customs check-point at the border. The whole place reeked of diesel fumes, sooty steel and endless mind numbing travel."
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August 29, 2022 - August 29, 2022.
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