Kashmir /4

When I was in college, we went on an educational trip for two weeks, to Lucknow, Dehradun, Mussoorie and Delhi. During the course of the trip, we were blissfully unaware of the days of the week. When one day Prof. Lahkar told us that today was a Sunday, he received an excited murmur in response… “Wow, today is a Sunday!”. Much water has flown under the bridge since those days, but even during this trip, we were only aware of the dates and days of the week were neglected completely. So when we realized that we were getting ready for a trip to Leh on a Monday morning while our friends and colleagues were getting ready for office, the feeling was orgasmic.

Leh is at a distance of 60 kms from Alchi, so the travel was expected to be less hectic as compared to the last two days. After a relatively leisurely breakfast, we started on our way to Leh. Our next destination was the Nimmu village where the Zanskar river merges into Indus. From here, Zanskar loses its identity and its Indus all the way from here. Rafting is a major activity on Zanskar in the summers, between Chilling and Nimmu, which are around 30 kms apart. Another major activity is the Chadar trek on the frozen Zanskar during the winters. Chadar, in most of the Indian languages, mean sheet, and the name aptly signifies that the trek involves walking on the sheet of ice that was Zanskar river during the summers. But we visited the river at a time when the river was still flowing, but the water was too cold for rafting. But this lack of activity was a blessing, as we could get the complete panoramic view of the two rivers. We clicked a few pictures, and then started on our way to Leh.

On the way, our next destination was Gurudwara Pathar Sahib. This Gurudwara is almost five hundred years old, built in 1517, to commemorate Guru Nanak Dev’s visit to Ladakh. I later came to know that Guru Nanak is revered among the Tibetan Buddhists as well, and has a place among the Buddhist saints as Guru Gompka Maharaj.

Legend has it that this Gurudwara was discovered in the seventies, when the Leh-Nimmu highway was being constructed. The engineering team found a huge boulder which could not be removed by the bulldozer. It was decided that the rock would be blown apart by dynamite the next day, but the bulldozer driver had a strange dream that night where he heard a voice that commanded that the stone should not be moved. After deciding to leave the boulder intact, the story around the origin of the stone took form. It is said that in this part of the world, there was a wicked demon, who terrorized the villagers. When Guru Nanak visited this village, he blessed and pacified the people, which enraged the demon further. One day when Guru Nanak was meditating, the demon hurled a big rock at him. But the rock became soft like molten wax when it touched Guru Nanak. The demon tried to kick the rock away, but his foot also got trapped in the soft rock. Even today it is said, that the rock contains the outlines of a human body, apparently of Guru Nanak, and a footprint, presumably of the demon.

The maintenance of the Gurudwara is done completely by the army men. The environment is serene and peaceful, and they were having the kirtan going on when we visited the place. Part of the worship involves bowing down before the huge rock that lends the Gurudwara its name. The halwa was very good, just like the prasad in all other Gurudwaras. They also have a langar of tea, along with a mixture of boondi and bhujiya. The good work done by the Indian army all over Kashmir has been quite exemplary, and this Gurudwara was no exception. Our next stop would have been the magnetic hill, where it is claimed that cars can move uphill even with the engine stopped. Poor Firdaus, however, could not locate the exact point, and we missed that experience. Scientific research however proves that the movement of the cars and motorcycles are mainly due to the gravitational pull, and the effect of magnetic fields is minimal.

By now, Firdaus was receiving frantic calls from Karma, the latter having arranged a group of passengers for him to take to Srinagar. Not willing to let him miss the earning opportunity, we missed the last attraction on the road, the Hall of Fame museum. This is another museum like the Kargil war memorial, which showcases the trials and tribulations of the Indian army in this hostile terrain. It was agreed that Karma would bring us here some other day. Ever since we left Alchi, we have been reminding Firdaus to stop at an ATM, as we did not have enough money on us to pay him. Hereafter, came the most difficult part of the trip, that of finding a functional ATM in Leh. After trying unsuccessfully in four or five ATMs, all of which had run out of cash, finally we found one that listened to our prayers. By then, we were chalking out alternate plans like selling off our kidneys to fulfill the payment to Firdaus. Very soon, bidding farewell to Firdaus, we changed hands. Firdaus had taken off on his way back to Srinagar, and now Karma would be taking care of us.

We had earlier arranged with a homestay for our first day’s stay in Leh. Meanwhile, we had also chalked out our travel plans for the next three days. Today, after having lunch, we shall be visiting the Shanti Stupa and the Hall of Fame. On subsequent days, we would undertake a trip to Nubra Valley, to Pangong Lake, and also have a look around Leh. We were pretty hungry by now, but the lunch at Gangba Homestay did not do much to lift our spirits. Most of the homestays in Leh do not serve non-vegetarian fare, but even the vegetarian fare could have been better. Anyway, we silently promised ourselves of a better dinner experience and informed the guys at the homestay that we would not need dinner tonight. We had also observed that the blanket in the room was extremely rugged, and we also requested another one. By this time, Karma was already on our doorsteps, and we were on the way to the Shanti Stupa.

This Stupa was built in 1914 by Buddhists from Ladkah who offered voluntary labour, with the assistance of Japanese monks, who consider India as sacred because Buddha was born here. The Stupa was inaugurated by His Holiness the Dalai Lama in August 1991. The Stupa is a major tourist attraction in Leh. It is situated on a hilltop and as a result, the sunset view is quite wonderful. Our next stop was the Hall of Fame on the Leh-Srinagar Highway. Just like the Dras War Memorial, this museum also showcases the bravery and exploits of the Indian Army during the Indo-Pak wars in the region, and most importantly, the Kargil war. Here, we could also watch a short documentary on the military history of the region.

When we came out of the museum, we realized that Leh gets quite cold after sundown. Karma kindly dropped us at the Lamayuru restaurant, but perfect happiness continued to remain elusive to us. It was the night of full moon, and keeping in line with the Buddhist customs, all restaurants in Leh were serving only vegetarian fare. The food was good definitely, and we caught a taxi on the way back to the homestay. Nubra Valley waits for us tomorrow.

Kashmir /3

Ever since the word went around that we shall be spending a night in Kargil, our friends and family started to relive the horrors of the war. I feebly tried to explain that the war was fifteen years back, and that seventy years back there was a war in Paris too… but it all fell into deaf ears. While in Kargil last evening, father-in-law somberly reminded us to be careful and not to indulge in too many “adventures”. A dear friend had also called and after knowing that we are in Kargil, continued to gasp repeatedly and was unable to converse any further. One loss that I faced in Kargil was that I had at one point of time, sat on my phone, resulting in a broken screen. I would later realize that a week free from WhatsApp and Facebook would help me to see the beauty around me. Somodatta is very enthusiastic about photography, but I had always thought that you cannot appreciate the grace of nature if you look at it through a camera lens. But these differences in opinion are the kinds of diversity that bring colours to our lives, so no complaining there. Most of the photographs that I share here have been clicked by Somodatta.

Satyajit Ray had taught me that the Gonpa is the Tibetan word for monastery, and though the Bengali script spelled it as Gum-Pha, I knew what to expect whenever I saw directions for a Gonpa. Lamayuru Gonpa is at a distance of around one hundred kilometres from Kargil, by which we would have traversed more than half the way to Alchi. This monastery is one of the largest and oldest of its kind in Ladakh, and at a height of 3500 metres we were feeling slightly short of breath while climbing the stairs. We would later learn that every single monastery in Ladakh is very clean and most of them require an entry ticket which pays for the maintenance of the premises. The cleanliness and serenity of Lamayuru was no exception. After spending some time in Lamayuru, we were heading towards Alchi.

Most of the vehicles that ply on the highway between Kargil and Leh would head for Leh directly, and Alchi, till now, has been an offbeat destination. Due to this, we had to keep our eyes open for any roadsigns. After driving for a little more than an hour while the mighty Indus was flowing towards our right, we spotted the sign that pointed towards a diversion away from the highay, which we were to take to reach Alchi. Alchi is a tiny hamlet which boasts of the Alchi Gonpa, one of the few monasteries in Ladakh that are not built on a hilltop. We had our reservations made with Zimskhang Holiday Home, from which the Alchi Gonpa took only a couple of minutes by foot. Extremely hungry that we were when we reached Alchi, the lunch took precedence over everything else as soon as we checked ourselves in.  The lunch was vegetarian, but the hotel staff inquired if we would prefer chicken for dinner. This question would always elicit positive response from a Bengali couple, and they asked us to come down for dinner at half past eight to relish the chicken while it is still hot. After resting for some time, we proceeded towards the Alchi monastery.

In the monastery while looking around, I also recollected the teachings by Satyajit Ray in his first Feluda story “Feludar Goendagiri”, when he told us that the Buddhist paintings on cloth is known as Thangka. All the monasteries in Ladakh have a very good collection of Thangka, mainly depicting the various stories related to the life of Buddha. Alchi Gonpa is also one of the oldest monasteries in Ladakh, albeit a little younger than the one in Lamayuru. After moving around the monastery and taking some pictures, we proceeded to take a walk around the village. Alchi has a population of less than one thousand, and the economy is dependent mainly on tourism and the government rural employment schemes. Though Alchi is at a lower height as compared to Lamayuru, we were still feeling breathless, and the walk could not continue for long.

Leh is only at a distance of two hours from Alchi, and we were feeling a bit relaxed at the possibility of not having to get up too early from bed. We will have to bid goodbye to Firdaus tomorrow, and he introduced us to Karma, the gentleman who would take us around in Ladakh. Firdaus has been an excellent guide and companion, and he assured us that Karma also would not give us any chance to complain.

Kashmir /2

The best thing about a vacation is that you don’t have to get up at 6 o’clock in the morning, at least not every day. And since Firdaus promised to come only after 9 AM, we felt all the more relaxed in the morning. While going through a much awaited leisurely morning, we were getting ready and having breakfast, when Firdaus called. He was halfway to Sonamarg from Srinagar, and just wanted to politely inquire if we have woken up, or were still in bed. After we assured him that we are indeed all set to go, he was pacified and we continued on our breakfast. Till yesterday, we had learned a few important things about Kashmir, including the good nature of people, huge portions of meal, dinner being served early etc. Another thing that we learned this morning was that it was essential to carry cash in Kashmir, because plastic money is not accepted everywhere, and ATMs are far and between. Sonamarg is a tiny hamlet, and we were told that the marketplace is just a few hundred metres from the hotel, on the east… “Bas, mushkil se adha kilometre hai Sir”.

So duly after stuffing ourselves with a sufficiently heavy breakfast, we started our walk towards the market, where we would be able to find the ATM. It was not yet nine by then, and we had more than a half hour before we could slip our deadline of half past nine, as promised to Firdaus. And while we were walking by the Sindh river, we learned our next lesson of life. Never trust when a villager tells you the distance. I had earlier read about it around twenty years back in a book titled “The Man-Eaters of Tsavo”. It was a wonderful book about a British engineer laying down a railroad in Kenya where he encounters two man-eater lions. I have always been fascinated by wildlife, and this book strengthened the love between me and forests. It was in this book, that the author John Henry Patterson, talks about the typical Swahili response “Mbali Kidogo” whenever he asks a local how far it is. The literal meaning of Mbali Kidogo is “just a little far”, but in reality, he had to walk for miles before reaching the destination.  This was primarily due to the difference in walking habits among the city and village people, the latter walk so much and so often, that the distances seem a little shorter to them. I recalled this phrase when we were walking towards the Sonamarg market, the half a kilometre seemed to continue for one and half kilometres at least. The army is omnipresent in Kashmir; you will find an army settlement at every corner. Even in Sonamarg on our way to the market, we went past a small army camp.

Even while we were so close to our brave soldiers, I was not feeling very happy. Of course it has nothing to do with the presence of the soldiers. I was worried about the next step if we found the ATM to be non-functional. Surely there would not be another ATM within a radius of fifty kilometres, and we do not have enough money to clear our hotel bills. Luckily for us, our fears were unfounded, and we could indeed take out sufficient money to clear our worries for next two days. By then, it was pretty close to the deadline of half past nine, and we called up Firdaus to fetch us from the market. He happily drove down in less than two minutes, and within the next five minutes, we were on our way to Kargil. Firdaus told us that we will have to cross the Zojila pass on the way.

My knowledge about mountain passes started from primary school when I first read about the famed Khyber Pass. I had made up an image in my mind that the Khyber Pass would be a narrow straight road with steep mountains on both sides. But afterwards, I had seen pictures of different mountain passes on the internet, and realized that a mountain pass is actually a long winding road. The pass actually goes around the mountain rather than cutting through it. Both I and Somodatta are fond of seaside holidays as compared to hills, and Zojila was going to be my first mountain pass. “La” means pass in several Himalayan languages, so you will find Bomdila in Arunachal Pradesh, Nathula in Sikkim and so on. After a very short while, we started climbing up the mountains. Slowly, we could see that the hills are getting barren and there is no sign of vegetation. Due to this, the soil and rocks in the mountains are often loose, and landslides are a common occurrence in this part of the world. The army does a commendable job every single time, clearing up the road and making it fit for travel once again whenever there is a snowfall or a landslide. Because of the frequent landslides, the road is quite muddy and rocky, and frighteningly narrow at some places. The highest point of Zojila pass is around 30 kilometres from Sonamarg, and is at a height of 3500 metres, approximately seven hundred metres higher than Sonamarg. After getting off the Zojila pass, the car stopped at a place called Zero Point to give all of us a break.

For all of us who have stayed in the North-East and have had the chance of travelling between Shillong and Silchar by road, we know that all the buses take a break at Ladrymbai. We also know that Ladrymbai is the worst place to take a break because it’s always very cold and the food options and toilet facilities are the worst among all places. Zero Point reminded me of Ladrymbai. Predictable as we are, we asked for three cups of Kahwa and a plate of anda-maggi. Firdaus whispered in our ears warning us not to buy anything as everything is highly overpriced, but we really wanted to have some tea. From here, the road conditions seem to be improving, and we rolled on our way to Kargil. After driving through a little more than an hour, Firdaus said that we were approaching the place where the war was fought. On the left, we saw the word Tololing painted on a hill, and realized that we had approached the war zone. I told myself that I will stop to take a picture when we are nearer. Immediately afterwards, we saw the gate of Kargil War Memorial on our left. It seemed that Firdaus had not been here earlier, and was not aware whether this is open for public. But then we found the parking and entered the sprawling compound, designed in the memory of those who had laid down their lives in the Kargil war of 1999.

 Most of us would be aware of the causes, proceedings and outcomes of the Kargil war. After the Simla Agreement signed between India and Pakistan in 1972 in the aftermath of the 1971 Indo-Pak war, it has been a practice that both nations moved their troops to the warmer locations during the winters. Same practice was adopted by the local villagers and also by quite a few people of Leh city, as there is nothing much to do in terms of trade during the winters. In the summer of 1999 when the villagers came back, they found infiltrators in the region. These infiltrators had started shelling on the NH1D highway, the only road connecting Leh and Srinagar thereby disrupting the complete traffic and army movement. Later on, we also saw a wall that the Indian army had built overnight to protect the highway. The initial response from Pakistan was that these intruders were terrorists and that the government of Pakistan had no hand in it. Finally, after a long battle in extremely hostile conditions, the Indian army could drive away the enemy from our territory on 26^th July 1999, and since then this day is celebrated as Kargil Vijay Diwas, named after Operation Vijay, the codename given to the Kargil war. There is another Vijay Diwas, which is celebrated on 16^th December, which commemorates the day in 1971 when the Pakistan army surrendered to the Indian army in Dhaka.

The war memorial brought back the memories of the Kargil war, and also reinforced the sacrifices that our soldiers had to give to retain the sovereignty of our nation. We spent almost an hour in the memorial, after which we proceeded towards Kargil. We reached Kargil by around two in the afternoon in the Zojila Residency hotel, which we had booked earlier. One problem that we started to encounter in the hotels in Kashmir started from here, and it is possibly due to the low influx of tourists. Very few hotels provide hot water round the clock, and it is a common practice to have warm water in the morning and evening only. As luck would have it, most of the time, we were checking in to the hotels in the afternoon, and were forced to wait for an hour or two before we could freshen up.  We had by now, made it a practice to order Kahwa wherever possible. After having a refreshing cup of Kahwa, we went out on a short walk around Kargil town. Our room overlooked the Suru river, which was a tributary of Indus. The main street of Kargil also went along the banks of the Suru river, and there are a few bridges to connect both banks. Due to the high altitude and lack of vegetation, the air is much thinner in Kargil and Leh, and we were warned about the problems of breathlessness. Normally, it is very difficult to predict who would be affected by it, as there is no distinct pattern like exercise preventing it, or smoking aggravating it. Somodatta had started to feel mildly short of breath, and we had a fair bit of walk, so we decided that it would be a good time to return back to our hotel, and go for an early dinner. In spite of not having legal regulations against alcohol consumption, we rarely found alcoholic beverages being sold or consumed in Kashmir. Not that it bothered us to a great extent, but I felt that more supply of alcohol may boost the business around tourism. Of course, the local customs have to be respected, and societal norms should be given priority over money.

Next day’s trip was to Alchi, which was at a slightly longer distance than what we travelled today. Firdaus had requested us to move out earlier, and we were pretty tired too, so the bed was hit quite early. Till now, everything has been very smooth, and we prayed it to remain this way itself.

Kashmir /1

I don’t know if it happens to you, but sleep has always eluded me whenever there is a need to wake up early in the morning. At around eight in the evening, I had received a phone call from Srinagar. A pleasant voice at the other side introduced himself as Firdaus. He would be our driver and guide for next three days, till the time we reach Leh. He assured us that he would be waiting at Srinagar airport at seven in the morning, which was the time when we are expected to reach. I had understood this during my last visit to Kashmir, tourism business in the valley has been hugely affected, and the locals do not leave a single opportunity to earn some money. Otherwise, how could you explain that on the morning of Eid-ul-Zuha, Firdaus had happily agreed to transport us to Sonamarg. The only condition he had kept was that he would return to Srinagar immediately after, and would escort us towards our onward destinations only from the next morning.

The cab was expected at quarter past three in the morning, and I was still tossing and turning in the bed past midnight. Only when I had given up all hopes of getting some sleep, I fell into slumber very briefly, only to be awakened by the shrill sound of the alarm. Groggy from getting only a couple of hours of sleep, I stumbled across to start what promised to be a very exciting holiday. Breakfast was the only reason we called the cab so early. Completely reluctant to spread butter on toast, and then to wash the plates before we leave, we decided that the insanely priced watery tea at the airport lounge would be a better alternative. I should have known that the trip would be too good, when I bumped into Somen at the airport when we had just ordered the tea. Somen and I used to be roommates twelve years back, but our friendship withstood the test of time. A sip of tea and a goodbye later, we parted ways… Somen was on his way to Guwahati, and we were going to Kashmir.

Firdaus was there at the airport, as promised. Dressed in a brown jacket and a smile, his first words were, “Eid Mubarak, Sir”. He also told us that the situation in Srinagar was slightly tense, and curfew was imposed on some parts on the city following a moderately violent protest over beef ban the previous day. We did encounter some barricades and detours, along with a quite a few army and police men, but we had to leave the city limits as early as we could, just to stay ahead of the Eid prayers. Till yesterday, I had believed that the place was called Sonmarg, only to realize today that it was actually SonAmarg, with an A. The pronunciation, however, is Sonmarg, the A is apparently kept silent. Sonamarg is 100 kilometers away from Srinagar, and it takes three hours to reach to our destination. All along the way, whenever we passed a tiny hamlet, we could see the crowds of men dressed in white gathering up for the Eid prayers. Because everyone prays on Eid, the local mosque falls short of place, and the praying congregation extends itself till the highway. Lucky were we that the flight was on time, we were always just ahead of the prayers.

We had in our mind, shortlisted a hotel, only to realize that it was fourteen kilometers away from Sonamarg. Sonamarg is a tiny hamlet on the Srinagar-Leh highway. Barring the various hotels, Sonamarg has little to offer for itself. As per the 2011 census, less than 400 people stay in Sonamarg during winters, when the hotels are all closed and tourism is suspended. We decided to look out for another hotel in Sonamarg itself, and Firdaus guided us to Hotel Snowland. We were made to wait for a while before getting to our rooms, as the entire staff was away for the prayers. Overlooking the green meadows and mountains on the front, and the Sindh river at the back, the location was great. The river Sindh that flows through Sonamarg is a tributary of Jhelum, and not to be confused with the Indus river that flows through Ladakh before reaching Pakistan. The names brought back the memories of school, when we were made to remember the names of the five rivers of Punjab. Ma also correlated the colloquial names with the Sanskrit names. So, Jhelum (Vitasta) and Ravi (Iravati) join Chenab (Chandrabhaga). Beas (Vipasha) join Sutlej (Satadru), and then Sutlej and Chenab join to form Panchnad, which then merges into Indus.

Firdaus had very kindly waited for us till we got into our rooms, and then he introduced us to his local acquaintance Ijaz before leaving for Srinagar to celebrate Eid with his family. Ijaz promised to take us for sightseeing on the pony. The prime attraction of Sonamarg is the Thajiwas glacier. Bajrangi Bhaijaan has done wonders to tourism in Kashmir, where the shooting locations are now marked as tourist attractions. Thajiwas glacier was the spot where the climax scene of the movie was shot. Though in the movie, the location was named as Narowal, whereas in reality, Narowal is another border town in Punjab, which is not at all mountainous, and definitely not snow-covered as shown in the movie. Traveling and sightseeing in Kashmir is quite expensive as compared to rest of the country, and the reasons are many. First is the lack of other earning avenues in places like Sonamarg, and the entire village relies on tourism to survive. To add to it, the quantum of tourist inflow does not seem sufficient to sustain the economic requirement. And to top it all, the tourist influx, irrespective of the numbers, only continue for six months, which targets for sustenance round the year. As a result of all these, the government rate for a three hour pony ride is fixed at 3000 rupees; the individual owners do agree to give you a ten percent discount.

Our last trip to Kashmir had introduced us to the wonders of Kahwa, the green tea of Kashmir made with spices like saffron, cinnamon and cardamom, and served with almonds and walnuts. We had made it a habit to ask for Kahwa whenever it was available. To our immense happiness, the staff at the Hotel Snowland served us Kahwa as a welcome drink. Meanwhile, Ijaz had politely requested us to proceed for the pony ride as early as we can, as there would be a shortage of tour guides after lunch due to Eid. After a bit of unsuccessful haggling on the price (both of us are extremely poor at it, be it at Sonamarg or Sarojini Nagar), we mounted the ponies. For the city-bred like us, a simple thing like riding a pony seems to be a tall task, and you have to call for support to climb the animal. The locals are all aware of the ways of the tourists, and gladly offer a supporting shoulder to help you be comfortable. The only saving grace is that when you look around, the other tourists behave just as oddly as you, so you do not feel lonely while acting stupid on the horseback. The natural beauty on the way to Sonamarg from Srinagar was truly enriching, and we expected nothing less when we started on the pony towards Thajiwas glacier.

Soniya, a former colleague of mine, had taught me a few good things in the form of English vocabulary. It was she who told me that catwalk is actually the ramp on which the models walk, and should not be confused with the titillating sway that the ladies adopt while walking. She also told me that vertigo is not the fear of heights, and that the correct name for this fear is acrophobia. Vertigo, on the other hand, is a disorder in which people tend to think they are moving when they’re actually not. So now I know that I actually suffer from acrophobia, and I do not appreciate riding a horse on the edge of a cliff. Though Salim, the young happy boy who was our guide through the ride, repeatedly assured us that no horses have ever slipped off the cliff, nor they have managed to shake any rider off, the fear remained. Luckily for me, the terrain was such that through most of the distance, the horse and I were away from the edge. It was only a short while before we reached our destination; a particularly treacherous section of the ride actually forced me to close my eyes. The horses, since quite some time, were showing their reluctance to move ahead. And a few hundred metres before reaching Thajiwas glacier, they actually put their feet down, all eight of them, and refused to move an inch further. Salim was duly embarrassed, but meekly asked us to follow him on foot, while he tied the horses together, hoping that their mood will improve by the time we come back.

Well, the city-bred couple once again proved their physical prowess; huffing and puffing to finish off the five hundred metre trek. To further complicate things, we had to cross the same stream thrice by walking on makeshift bridges made up of tree trunks. And so we reached the glacier. I was a bit disappointed at the look of the glacier; it failed to match the image of glaciers that I had pictured in my mind since childhood. But yes, it was a chunk of slowly melting ice, at the bottom of which started a stream, which, I’m not sure, may turn into a river at a distance. By this time, an old man walked up to us, and tried to convince us to take a sleigh ride with him along with promises of a great adventure. I duly refused; both out of tiredness and skepticism, but my darling wife was in the mood for some thrill. The gentleman helped Somodatta sit on a sleigh, dragged her around for a hundred metres, and then expressed his desire that Madame Santa Claus pay him one hundred and fifty rupees. Not left with a lot of energy to haggle, we promptly gave in, and also asked him to prepare two bowls of Maggi for us in his nearby shack. The Maggi brought back some of the lost energy, and we started on our way back, hoping that the horses would now be willing to carry us to the hotel.

They were ready indeed. The return journey was largely uneventful, with the sole exception that I was white as a sheet when the horses crossed the particularly thin part of track that scared me on the forward journey as well. Salim told us that there is a shorter way to Amarnath from Sonamarg. I had known till then that the only road to Amarnath was through Chandanwadi near Pahalgam, but apparently there is a shorter route from Baltal. Baltal is a small village, at a distance of fifteen kilometres from Sonamarg. While the route from Chandanwadi takes two days for the round trip, the journey from Baltal and back only takes around fourteen hours on horseback. But what was scary and he pointedly looked at me while saying this, was the kind of tracks that the horses walk upon. I, according to him am getting scared at these little heights for no reason. I had once wanted to go on the Amarnath Yatra, but later on decided against it in the views of repeated threats of terror attacks. Now, after Salim’s revelation on the nature of the journey, I completely dissociated myself on any further plans of the holy pilgrimage. Sometime later, the horses safely ported us to the hotel front. We were indeed grateful to Salim that he took us on the sightseeing on the Eid day.

Before leaving for the horse ride, we had ordered our lunch at the hotel, asking it to be delivered at 3 PM or whenever we are back. Quite hungry and tired as we were, we asked for the food, and it was promptly delivered to our room. Our experiences with hotels in Kashmir tell us that the people are extremely warm and hospitable, and that the food portions are abnormally large. Shamefully, we could not finish the entire spread. After the heavy lunch, we were too full to move around and retired to our beds for an untimely siesta. Somodatta had foreseen the lack of activity in the evenings, and had intelligently packed her laptop and a few movies. That evening, we watched Ganashatru, a movie by Satyajit Ray. The third thing that we knew about hotels in Kashmir was that dinner was served before 9 PM. Before leaving for Srinagar, Firdaus had asked us to be ready to leave by half past nine next morning, so that we could reach Kargil by late afternoon. The first day of the trip had been a happy one, and we went to bed looking forward to Day Two to Kargil. Parents were quite unimpressed at our selection of a war site as a holiday destination. We will share our Kargil story as well, very soon.

Till then, take good care of yourself and your loved ones.