Continued from "Ladhhak: A Godless Pilgrimage"
"First View of the Indus River," said a signboard as we entered Leh, and the river, which gave India its name, moved with skill and poise through an intricate arrangement of brown, green, and white. Meandering through the primordial mountains, the river had once nurtured the fields of the Harappans - the builders of the best planned cities on earth in their times. A witness to the rise and fall of those cities, the Indus glistened in the sun, as if smiling in condescension at the futility of the mankind's attempts to decipher cryptic ancient texts, for of them, she had always known but never revealed.
Nurturing Civilizations: The Mighty Indus
My hymn to the mighty Indus:
"First View of the Indus River," said a signboard as we entered Leh, and the river, which gave India its name, moved with skill and poise through an intricate arrangement of brown, green, and white. Meandering through the primordial mountains, the river had once nurtured the fields of the Harappans - the builders of the best planned cities on earth in their times. A witness to the rise and fall of those cities, the Indus glistened in the sun, as if smiling in condescension at the futility of the mankind's attempts to decipher cryptic ancient texts, for of them, she had always known but never revealed.
My hymn to the mighty Indus:
Notional beliefs met reason in her course,
a reason vagarious as mankind, illusive as its faith,
In her silts, men eroded and formed for eons,
and will keep eroding for eons, just to be formed again.
As illusive indeed was the reason for my journey; destination had been met but the feeling had yet to sink in. Though, we rode well covering more distance than we had on any other day, stopping was something that required getting used to. A walk in the bazaar, a visit to a bookstore, and dinner helped ease the restlessness before I slept.
The next day walking around in the town, we looked for places to get our bikes checked, laundry done, and inner-line permits made. Later, we visited the old city, walking through mud-plastered homes, centuries old, adorning the barren face of the hillock that led to Leh palace and monastery. Heading towards the palace, we stopped to gaze at the snow-capped peaks we had maneuvered through to reach Leh; a vain feeling of pride took over me, not for long though. The monastery gates separated two completely different worlds, and a look at the towering Budhha statue surrounded by silence was overpowering. In an otherwise dark room, sunlight that sneaked in through a glass column in the roof, chose to shine on the golden face of the statue rendering it a divine radiance. Embellished in assortment of bright green, and red colored ornaments, which could not be subdued even in the dark, the beaming Buddha could force even the most materialist of people to unintentionally indulge in meditation. It forced me.
The Destination: Leh
The next day walking around in the town, we looked for places to get our bikes checked, laundry done, and inner-line permits made. Later, we visited the old city, walking through mud-plastered homes, centuries old, adorning the barren face of the hillock that led to Leh palace and monastery. Heading towards the palace, we stopped to gaze at the snow-capped peaks we had maneuvered through to reach Leh; a vain feeling of pride took over me, not for long though. The monastery gates separated two completely different worlds, and a look at the towering Budhha statue surrounded by silence was overpowering. In an otherwise dark room, sunlight that sneaked in through a glass column in the roof, chose to shine on the golden face of the statue rendering it a divine radiance. Embellished in assortment of bright green, and red colored ornaments, which could not be subdued even in the dark, the beaming Buddha could force even the most materialist of people to unintentionally indulge in meditation. It forced me.
In the evening we collected our permits and planned to leave early the next day.
After a quick check of motorcycles, we left our hotel, and headed towards Khardung-La- the highest motor able road in the world. In a matter of kilometers, with ascent nearly vertical, Leh appeared distant and hazy. Excited, we moved, waving at other bikers, a gesture, which seemed almost as old as tradition for us; it started the day we left Manali, and would stay with us until we left Srinagar. Already acclimatized to heights, there were no signs of altitude sickness, the motorcycles were dizzy this time, not too dizzy to reach Khardung-La though. Sloshing, stopping, and occasionally singing we were at Khardung-La, and it felt like reaching a summit too crowded to allow anyone to set foot on it. Finding a decent parking space for our humble bikes among the powerful diesel guzzling SUVs was not easy. Making a glacier this high resemble the roads of Chandni Chowk was an intimidation from mankind that nature would require getting used to. A few photographs and we headed back to Leh, this time with engines off, quite to the relief of the motorcycles.
The next day, we had to start early to be able to reach Pangong, before the streams en route blocked the road. Before calling it quits, we had enough time left in the day to visit Hemis monastery and Sindhu Darshan festival site.
The road to Pangong lake passed through Chang-La pass- the third-highest road in the world, the strenuous ascent to which required crossing numerous streams. Brighter the sun, stronger the current of the streams would be, so we had to cross them by noon. Apart from being one of the toughest roads, the road to Pangong was easily the most scenic. A river that ran along the road, gave way to a vast grassland grazed by Yaks, and a closer look at the grasslands revealed that it was full of beavers, who were eager to pose. Leaving them behind, the landscape changed again, into a desert, which appeared to be a closed ecosystem, locked by high mountains on all sides. The mountains allowed no interference from the lands beyond, and to nurture or plunder their land was their own prerogative. Their accomplice in causing rain, snow, and cloud-bursts, was Pangong lake-the reason that drove us there, and the reason I will never forget.
Never in my dreams had I encountered something as mesmerizing as the tso (the local word that means lake), and never before had the horizon appeared as close as it was there. Everything was still, etched eternally on the earth's surface, in a wait, which was never for us to fathom. The only thing that moved were the blue waters of the tso, which in a motion cautious yet serene, had a hypnotizing effect on everything around. One look at the lake, and swept over we stood still as everything around the tso has been since eternity. I had read about the dimensions and geography of Pangong but such details, I feel are too trivial to mention.
We were in Leh by evening, in preparation of the journey back, this time through Kargil and Srinagar.
Continued in "The Journey Home"
After a quick check of motorcycles, we left our hotel, and headed towards Khardung-La- the highest motor able road in the world. In a matter of kilometers, with ascent nearly vertical, Leh appeared distant and hazy. Excited, we moved, waving at other bikers, a gesture, which seemed almost as old as tradition for us; it started the day we left Manali, and would stay with us until we left Srinagar. Already acclimatized to heights, there were no signs of altitude sickness, the motorcycles were dizzy this time, not too dizzy to reach Khardung-La though. Sloshing, stopping, and occasionally singing we were at Khardung-La, and it felt like reaching a summit too crowded to allow anyone to set foot on it. Finding a decent parking space for our humble bikes among the powerful diesel guzzling SUVs was not easy. Making a glacier this high resemble the roads of Chandni Chowk was an intimidation from mankind that nature would require getting used to. A few photographs and we headed back to Leh, this time with engines off, quite to the relief of the motorcycles.
The Highest Road: Khardung-La
The next day, we had to start early to be able to reach Pangong, before the streams en route blocked the road. Before calling it quits, we had enough time left in the day to visit Hemis monastery and Sindhu Darshan festival site.
The road to Pangong lake passed through Chang-La pass- the third-highest road in the world, the strenuous ascent to which required crossing numerous streams. Brighter the sun, stronger the current of the streams would be, so we had to cross them by noon. Apart from being one of the toughest roads, the road to Pangong was easily the most scenic. A river that ran along the road, gave way to a vast grassland grazed by Yaks, and a closer look at the grasslands revealed that it was full of beavers, who were eager to pose. Leaving them behind, the landscape changed again, into a desert, which appeared to be a closed ecosystem, locked by high mountains on all sides. The mountains allowed no interference from the lands beyond, and to nurture or plunder their land was their own prerogative. Their accomplice in causing rain, snow, and cloud-bursts, was Pangong lake-the reason that drove us there, and the reason I will never forget.
Th Place that it Was: Road to Pangong
Never in my dreams had I encountered something as mesmerizing as the tso (the local word that means lake), and never before had the horizon appeared as close as it was there. Everything was still, etched eternally on the earth's surface, in a wait, which was never for us to fathom. The only thing that moved were the blue waters of the tso, which in a motion cautious yet serene, had a hypnotizing effect on everything around. One look at the lake, and swept over we stood still as everything around the tso has been since eternity. I had read about the dimensions and geography of Pangong but such details, I feel are too trivial to mention.
The Hypnosis: Pangong Tso
We were in Leh by evening, in preparation of the journey back, this time through Kargil and Srinagar.
Continued in "The Journey Home"
Well said jayant...
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