THE OBSERVER-(M-32)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-32)😎

Sat 28 Nov 2020

        GANGA GHAT KA PANI

          In continuation from where we left off. This tale is all about an LRP in the Sugar Sector which took me to the common catchment area of the Sutlej and Ganga above Kalpa in Himachal  and then down the Ganga to Harsil in Uttarakhand. In the last episode the patrol had reached the top of the mountain pass between Himachal and Uttarakhand.

        Going downslope was a comparitively easy affair and was carried out at a much faster pace.After days in isolation, the sight of a crow came as a big relief. lThe scenery was similar to the one during ascent and we soon crossed the " Valley of Flowers ", a breathtaking spectacle created by nature, a wild garden full of all kinds of colourful flowers.It was not long before we neared Gangotri and encountered a tributary of the Ganga close to its origin.This was my first ever physical confrontation with this revered river, about which i had only read or heard stories so far. Though we had stumbled upon what was only one of the humble origins of this great river , i was quite surprised to see the reverence and enthusiasm it invoked in the Bihari troops.So far, they had been trudging along with their loads with almost expressionless faces as we walked through all those beautiful places. But at the sight of the Ganga, their faces lit up and their whole demeanour changed. This euphoric feeling was infectious and i found myself joining them in paying my respects at the small shrine before taking a dip in the crystal-clear, ice-cold water. What a rejuvenating feeling it was, even without being involved in the religious connotations associated with a dip in this holiest of rivers. Just the feel of one's body being immersed in the freshly melted snow was enough to give a sense of total purification. The guys looked as if they had actually reached heaven.

           Finally we reached Harsil, a tiny hamlet with a Gurkha Bn which was our destination point.The welcome was warm and the unit very hospitable. Staying with the Gurkhas in a field location was a new experience altogether. The troops all looked the same and it was quite amusing to see the way they were referred to by their Army numbers because even their names were mostly sounded the same. The Commanding Officer was a distinguished veteran of the '72 war and the highlight of the Officers Mess was a painting depicting him accepting the surrender of enemy troops at pistol-point.Besides that, the Mess was full of portraits and trophies depicting his achievements in war and peace.At all meals, his voice dominated the proceedings while others confined themselves to nodding their heads in agreement. If there was ever any dissenting note, i never heard it.  After a couple of days, it became kind if monotonous and the feet started itching to move out. We were waiting there for vehicles to pick us up for the onward journey to Dehradoon, but seasonal landslides had blocked the road at many points. Lt Yadav ( the patrol Cdr) and his troops were quite content to wait for as long as it took. They were certainly in no hurry to get back to their unit. But as far as the 2/Lt in love was concerned, every second that kept him away from Pune was priceless.  All the natural beauty around was meaningless when he was unable to share it with the one person closest to his heart. He informed everyone around about his impending Commando Course but they laughed it off. They could not believe that someone was actually keen to leave that heavenly situation and go for such a Course. I finally had my way and we left Harsil for Dehradoon on foot, hitching a ride wherever available. 

The route now passed through Chamoli, Uttarkashi, Tehri and Garhwal - all scenic spots with very friendly and hospitable hills-people. At one place, the local school head- master hosted a dinner for Lt. Yadav and me at his residence. He was astonished on learning that i was a Madrasi and could speak Hindi with ease.We crossed the still under-construction Tehri dam and reached Rishikesh.The troops were ecstasic and did not want to miss out anything, they went on a sightseeing spree.

           Here, i took leave of the Patrol Party and caught a bus to Dehradoon and onwards to Chandigarh.On reaching Chandigarh, i was told to rejoin thè Patrol in Sugar Sector for debriefing. Once again, i found myself driving a 1xton up to Kalpa, this time at speed and with minimum halts. Immediately after completing the debriefing ( just a formality), i was on my way back. Driving throughout the night in heavy fog by just following the tail-lamps of a civilian truck, i reached an ASC unit at Kufri very early in the morning, out of fuel. I was informed that the OC was in the Mandir and fuel would be available only when he came out. As to when he would come out, it seemed to be unpredictable. What all kinds of obstacles people madly in love have to face ! I had no choice but to relax and enjoy the welcome cup of steaming hot tea while i waited. I could not help musing over how lucky this OC was, to be situated in a kingdom of his own - far way from disturbances in the form of higher HQs. And what a way to start each day ! He turned out to be a very affable gentleman when he finally emerged from the unit Mandir and passed on instructions for filling fuel in the 1x ton. After a short formal reporting at the HQ in Shimla i was back in the unit at Chandigarh, all set to proceed for the Commando Course at Belgaum via Pune.

          Though the LRP was nothing much to speak of as far as official records go, personally it was definitely one of the hallmarks of my life in terms of the learning it had to offer. Apart from the visual delights of the trek, there  was kindled a spark of curiosity to learn about the deeper meaning of life as a whole. Though it was not so obvious at that time - i was starting to learn that there were other facets of life beyond the unit, CO, rum, cigarettes, rations and girlfriends.

Maybe the attempt to convey everything in a nutshell is what converted this narration of a simple routine trek in the Himalayas into such a Herculean task.Have a great weekend, folks.

THE OBSERVER-(M-31)

 😎THE OBSERVER-(M-31)😎

   THE HIMALAYAN WONDER 

Sat 21 Nov 2020

        There are times when one is rendered speechless in the presence of something that beats description. That is the only excuse i am able to offer at the moment for the way this narrative stuttered right from the start and then ground to a long halt after completion of the preparatory stage of the Long Range Patrol. What has been started, has to be completed. So, here goes: 

          The patrolling began with a  half-day ride on vehicles from the Bn HQ at Pooh ( near Kalpa,Sugar Sector) to a point where the metalled road tapered off into a kutcha track and then to a footpath. We trekked down to the Baspa valley with rucksacks ( Baspa is a tributary of the Sutlej ). Supplies and stores were carried by mules and porters.The head porter, an old- timer,  knew the route like the back of his hand. Nevertheless, Lt.Yadav and i periodically made a pretence of deciding on the correct route after taking bearings with a magnetic compass and studiously poring over  our maps. In the process, our maps were liberally splashed with all colours available. I also made it a point to jot down a few lines in my pocket notebook at every halt.This was done with a knowledgeable and important look plastered on my face which i made sure was noticed. After all,being the "Engineer expert ", i had to live up to that term! But very soon, it was obvious that these jottings were becoming rather repetitive and so it became a matter of just noting the time and place. It did not take me long to discover that on his part, our learned Patrol Cdr was working along similar lines. His more experienced JCOs aided by their assistants took care of all the nitty-gritty regarding rations and other administrative and logistic details. Or, maybe they were also putting on a show and just following precedence ! Frankly speaking, i had a sneaky feeling that in most of these matters,we were at the mercy of the head porter from the moment we moved out of our vehicles onto our feet.

We were following a mule-track used by nomadic  shepherds (gaddis) and traders since ages. 

The porters and mules were familiar with the route and trudged in the rear, once the guide had put us on the right track in the morning.

         The first evening, we reached the riverside and set camp at a spot

known to the porters. They were a hardy, cheerful and self- sufficient lot as they carried their own meagre needs cheerfully along with the loads.Then followed a walk through what i can only describe as paradise. For one thing, the lush green meadows were a welcome change compared to the barren heights from where we had started. Then the presence of the gurgling Baspa with ice-cold, crystal-clear water and the complete absence of any signs of humanity had the effect of inducing a trance-like state. 

          The idyllic  panorama kept getting better and better whenl we reached Raksham."Switzerland " was the  thought that automatically sprang to the mind. At a loss for words to do full justice to the scene in its full glory, i can only fall back on the words of the song - " Ye kaun chitrakar hai ?" to come somewhere near to describing the - " Is this a dream or for real?" picture.  Even the mules looked tranquil, the sound of the bells on their necks only adding to the magic of the situation.

          The night halt at Sangla, a small picturesque village, was spent in the PWD resthouse as guests of the Engineer and his assistant. Two local ladies who stayed with them as helpers gave us company in the songs and dancing that accompanied dinner.

We left reluctantly the next morning and reached Chitkul - the last point on the track. A platoon of the ITBP were the sole residents of this isolated outpost. They welcomed us with open arms and there was another night of merriment.

           Leaving Chitkul the next morning, we crossed over to the other bank of the Baspa and headed towards the high pass that would take us across into Uttarakhand. The mules were sent back along with their handlers and heavier stores. Now we were on manpack basis with a handful of porters. Only the head porter had any idea of the " route " which was for the most part, cross-country. Now and then, a pile of stones would reassure us that we were moving in the correct direction.

         The plan was to get over the snow-clad pass and down to firm ground on the other side in one go. But once we started the climb, the progress became slower and slower and we were spread out in a long single line. The reflection of the sunshine on the snow created a blinding glare hurting the eyes despite out military-issue sunglasses. After every two or three steps, we had to halt to catch our breath.The steep slope was very slippery with the melting snow that was freezing into ice. The strong winds made breathing difficult and lack of oxygen became more and more obvious as ascended.

            When we came to a small outcrop of rocks about half-way up, i realised that there was a huge gap in the line. Some ten of us were up there, while Lt. Yadav was  way behind with the remainder and was signalling to us to stop. As it was getting dark, we decided to halt for the night at our respective spots. It so happened that we had the lighter loads with us while the heavier supplies including rations were in the rear. Early next morning, the rear party caught up with us and we climbed to the top at a laborious pace.

       Finally, there we were, on top of the world in the middle of the clouds with nothing around but gleaming white snow ! The descent to Harsil alongside the Ganga through equally stunning scenery onwards to Rishikesh and Haridwar on our way back  follows.

………….to be contd………….

( subject to demand      😁😜   )

THE OBSERVER-(M-30)

😎THE OBSERVER-(M-30)😎

Sat 07 Nov 2020

               DEJA  VU

      Deja Vu is the only term that can aptly describe some of the unique and remarkable events we experience as we go about our lives. " Strange co-incidences " somehow falls far short of doing justice in such instances.A fitting example is the previous episode in which Prem Kahani wormed its way into the proceedings out of turn and made its appearance exactly on Prem's birthday - unplanned. Like

the last few pieces of a jigsaw puzzle falling into their respective slots,seemingly of their own accord. Life is full of such happenings  which at times appear to be defying logic.

         Imagine this :- You are deeply engrossed and totally immersed in the action playing out on a large 3-D screen ( as in a movie ) and suddenly, you find yourself transformed from a mere on-looker  into one of the performers. Sheer magic !

          Nestled in the lap of the Himalayas on the Hindustan-Tibet road, Shimla offers simultaneously a glimpse of both the snow-clad peaks to the North and the vast expanse of the fertile plains to the South. Both are equally spectacular sights and they formed the perpetual 3-D screen around me in my formative years.

         103 tunnels adorn  the scenic narrow-guage rail-track between Shimla and Kalka.103 Engr Regt was where i found myself on my first posting after YO's Course! 

         Beyond Kalka,going towards thr plains,the national highway and rail-tracks run parallel to each other for the most part. As they get closer to Chandigarh, Army units can be spotted, neatly laid out  alongside. Chandimandir Rly Stn,consisting of a solitary platform, comes just short of Chandigarh. The small white temple visible on a nearby hillock is  presumably the Mandir from which the place gets its name.

        From school times,there were two landmarks which stood out prominently in my memory. One was the spick and span Quarter- Guard of an Army unit located on the highway, close to the Chandimandir Rly Stn. A huge, shining brass bell hung on a tripod could be seen from the road.The Shimla- Delhi bus crossed this spot ('X') just before the Tri- junction leading to Chandigarh. Every time i passed that  way, i would look at the Quarter- Guard with awe and fantasise what it would be like to be a member of the unit with the shining  big brass bell  at spot ('X'). This was fantasy number one.

       The second landmark was a particular milestone at Shimla on the same highway pointing towards the last point on the Indo-Tibetan border which said - - "Sumdoh ". Actually standing at Sumdoh some day, astride those snow-capped peaks was fantasy number two.

           The first dream came true  when 103 Engr Regt was relocated to that very spot ('X') on the highway, about six months after i joined the unit. Now i was actually a member of the unit with the neat Quarter-Guard and shining big brass bell on the highway.

            The second dream became visible on the horizon when soon after the move i was detailed to be a member of a Long Range Patrol in Sugar Sector. 

            This is what i call Deja Vu !

Everything happening without any conscious effort on my part. As if it was simply destined to be so.

       On an otherwise routine summer morning, while in the midst of the conduct of a Map-Reading exam,came the information that i had to proceed immediately to Shimla and onwards for an LRP. By  afternoon, i was on my way to Shimla in a 1xton with the driver, Hav Hassan Khan and sahayak, Sapper Devikar. Needless to say, i took full advantage of this opportunity and was in the driver's seat from the moment we were out of visual range of the unit.

        By that time i had spent about six months in the unit, blindly and unquestioningly following the orders of my seniors. It seemed to be ages since i had tasted such complete freedom, without the feeling of being 24x7 under  the microscopic scrutiny of critical eyes. A top of the world feeling.I was actually on my way to physically reaching a spot on top of the world.Or as near as i would ever get to that.It was as if a caged bird had been set free to soar in the sky.

       As we reached the foothills at Parwanoo, there came a bridge that looked too narrow for  even a two-wheeler, leave aside a 1xton and i wanted to change seats.But Hav Hassan insisted that i should continue on the wheel, saying that if i stopped driving at that point  i would never be able to drive in the hills. I was skeptical but followed his advice and then drove on not only up to Shimla but all the way through all kinds of hairpin bends

and narrow constricted passages.

         Reaching Shimla late in the evening, i spent the night in the M.E.S. Inspection Bungalow. Early next morning, i visited some of my childhood friends before reporting at HQ. There, i was told to proceed to an infantry unit ( a Bihar Bn ) in Sugar Sector. Driving up that road was heavenly, a dream come true . The scenery was breath-taking and the hill-people so beautiful,simple and soft-spoken in their sing-song dialects. Even in those days, the pine- scented air was noticeably much cleaner and fresher than in the dusty plains. After all, i was travelling through Dev Bhumi - the abode of the Gods, heading towards the skies.

          From Shimla, the road first climbed steadily upwards to Theog and then dropped sharply into the scenic valley at Rampur-Bushahr, fabulous places i had only heard of in folklore till then.Every now and then, i halted just to soak in the greenery and scenery.  Climbing once more from there towards Kalpa,we came to a point where the road further was blocked due to a major landslide. After waiting for about half a day watching the futile attempts to clear the road, there was no option but to walk across with Devikar and send Hassan Khan back to the unit with the 1xton. Once across the slide, i managed to get a lift in another Army vehicle and reached an Arty sub-unit late in the night. The O.I.C.and only officer, a senior Sikh Major,was very happy to see me and it was all " O balle -balle" thence. We chit-chatted over drinks and a grand dinner. The next day saw me in the office of the Adjt of the Bihar unit from where the patrolling was to commence.He introduced me to the Patrol Party Commander, Lt. Yadav from that Bn. A day or two later, we went to a Company outpost at a higher altitude for acclimatisation. The Coy Cdr., Maj Jhakar was a jolly good fellow and kept us entertained constantly with his tales.

          Next morning, i woke up early to the sound of a shrill long whistle. I was stunned to discover that it was the signal for the fall-in of mules along with their handlers belonging to the adjacent Animal Transport  Company. Even more startling was the sight of some of the mules reporting sick, seemed some of them were regulars at this! Then followed a detailed grooming session  and inspection, after which they were detailed on duties. The mules followed a strict daily routine and were authorised lavish rations including rum. They were a sturdy, healthy and smart-looking lot.I learnt that they were authorised to carry only upto 40 Kg. at a time. Load them with one gram more and they would stall. In contrast,the local civilian mules looked half- starved, flea-ridden and mangy with hardly anything to eat and zero rum authorisation  but carried much more weight with no complaints or sick report. For the patrolling, we were to be accompanied by civilian mules with their handlers and some porters to carry supplies and stores. The contractor who provided them was an important personality in the area with status equal to that of a village headman. We were invited for dinner at his modest residence.

Major Jhakar, Lt. Yadav and i walked down to the place in the evening. The local home-made drink called  "Ghanti" was offered in porcelain cups. When i started sipping gingerly, i was told that it was to be taken in a gulp  together with all the others as they said "cheers " in the local lingo-i forget the term. With the very first gulp, it became clear to me why it was called Ghanti. The blood rushed to my cheeks and ears which felt started feeling warm with a rush of blood  and i could hear bells clanging inside my ears.

Two young girls gave us company along with the contractor and his wife, drink for drink. Around the third or fourth round, i had to excuse myself and go outside to gasp in the ice-cold fresh air and come back to my senses. There was a lot to learn from these hardy people who inhabited the desolate, barren mountain villages, located precariously on the slopes at the border.A lovely evening well spent. 

         Next day, we trekked to the highest post where a platoon was 

deployed in bunkers. The officer in charge was overjoyed to see us and proudly showed us around his " kindom " including a lovely " valley of flowers ". The atmosphere was noticeably rarer and the high winds that prevailed through most of the day made it impossible to even stand outdoors.From a vantage point, we could see across the border but no one was visible.

  

………….to be continued……….