Rohtang Pass-What You Seek,Seeks You

“Wake up!! We have to go down. Wake up!!”  Suddenly, my dream of sleeping on my bed facing the mattress with me head resting on pillow, was vanished. And I raised my head to notice, squinting though, that Hrishi was shaking me as if trying me to bring back from the death. I opened my eyes fully and the afternoon light flashed on my eyes to close them again. I realized I was sleeping, my head resting on the fuel tank of the Royal Enfield.  Feeling tired as hell, I didn’t want to go anywhere but sleep. Let me explain you why.

It was June of 2015 and I was in Manali. It was me, my childhood friend Hrishi along with Ameya and Mandar who happen to be my college friends.  Manali Adventure Tour arranged by mutual friend of ours Deepak, went on for 7 days, and this was the last day. And seems like destiny saved the best/worst for the last. Best or the worst, you decide at the end. First 6 days went on like normal vacation, rappelling, river crossing, rock climbing (and was surprised to know that 20ft wall is all there is to climb), hike of a thousand feet, that reminded me of the easiest way that trekkers take to climb Sinhgad. For those who are unaware of what Sinhgad is, it’s a fort 20km away from Pune.  And just when we all started to feel like it has been most boring vacation we have been on or that we have wasted 25000 bucks, this day came to our life or it must have smiled crookedly at us.

It was 24^th of June and last day of our Manali Adventure Tour. The agenda of the day was that we hire bikes from Manali Market and we go on a ride to Rohtang Pass. Rohtang pass, almost 4000m above the sea level is the connecting point for Kullu Valley and Spiti Valley and is famous for Ice Sports and stuff which we were utterly uninterested of since our hearts were already filled with the fearful joy of riding the bikes on the roads of Kullu Valley. Fear, because we had heard and seen a lot of rash driving by the drivers of the Himachal and was more afraid of the heavy Royal Enfield Bullet because we never rode any of those before. Thought of riding a bullet, in the valley and against the Himalayan drivers of the buses and cars (who could easily challenge the Fast and Furious stuntmen if it ever came to that) was the thing that scared us.  

            And so 24^th came and ride began. We already had procured the bikes a day before, according to the plan.  And we got on the road. My heart beat raced up with dug dug of the bullet and the resonance of all the 13 bikes made it run faster than the bikes itself. Insides filled with the heart racing excitement and outsides filled with the shuddering cold since it was the morning in the Himalayan valley.  The city and hills weren’t awake yet but we were. We were on the route that supposedly climbed straight 2000meters up only in 60 kilometers to ride on to. As we left the city behind and got on highway, first time in my life I experienced how a real picture of nature looks like. Whenever I drew or scribble nature in my sketch-book in my childhood, it always went like this. A hill, sun peeping through it,(I never allowed it to come fully out of the hills), a river passing by, and a house. And as the sun peeped through the vast Himalayan ranges and snowcaps came to life and it took me away. And as I looked at the red sun, I understood why I might have kept drawing that picture. A real river, Beas, A real partly rose sun, real houses on the steep valley, it felt celestial, surreal. Felt like someone telling me, “This is the way they draw nature, you dipshit.”  I smiled to myself while riding and kept on going. Sleep was still on my eyes because the previous night we couldn’t sleep because other team members managed to get local drink, Lugdi from the market and drank their asses off. And being non-drinkers I along with Hrishi and Ameya had to father these 15 other mischievous children from doing anything stupid since other groups that camped over their might object us drinking.  Hrishi who was in the backseat also felt sleepy.  Morning became bright and with it the cold faded.

               We were halfway on the route, when first unexpected thing happened to us. It started raining. And though we were prepared with raincoats, but it wasn’t anticipated since we had tracked the weather beforehand, to make sure nothing goes wrong on the trip. It rained for 10-15 minutes and stopped. And all the rain did was that, it made the road slippery. I felt like out of the fire into the frying pan. Already frightened of the zigzagged road and rash drivers, and now my bike handle started wobbling. Not sure whether it was the slippery road or fear or both. We stopped at a point, from where Manali looked like it has consumed all the Beas. All the other 12 bikes also stopped with us.  And we clicked some photos. We had tea at the roadside tea vendor. There ran a gulley perpendicular to the road. I went and stood by it. Crystal clear and gushing water, exposing the pebbles perfectly spherical and some covered with moss. The thought of pebbles spending years, maybe ages to achieve perfectly sphere shape and smooth texture touched my mind and suddenly vanished, when I saw a kid collecting water in the jug of the same gulley. He was the kid of the tea vendor and that was the same jug through which I drank the water. Kid took the jug and handed it over to his father (they had same eyes and nose, that was enough to conclude). I felt like objecting that. I retorted myself, because the thought of claiming that water unhygienic, felt like a sinful act.   

               As we rode up the hill and reached the Rohtang Pass, I was lost. East side horizon illuminated brightly with sun shine. The snow that spread across ran into the valley. It made us squint because of the glares. On the other side, snow rapidly descended down the hill giving it the look of the white roller coaster track. North was totally covered with cloud and it was only after the sky got clear and we noticed that there was hill beneath that cloud blanket. The hill sat there like a meditating monk, with the wind filling ears with the humming that sounded like Om.  Air was so cold here that when I took my bandanna off ears, I felt like someone had poured ice cubes on the earlobes. On the south side lightnings flashed and it felt like a storm. Too many colors of sky in a single picture. And it was too much to take. The time felt like have stopped. We four sat on the edge of the cliff. And took everything in. The sun, the snow, the humming of the wind, the screams of the frightened and excited children on the other side of the cliff while playing the snow carts, the monk Hill on the back, the thunder, the lightning, the dug dug of the bullets going in the direction of Leh, the animals on the east side meadows. It was too much to take.

               After an hour or so, we all got up and were hungry. We walked to the roadside canteen. It was a small truck that owner had cleverly turned into a canteen. We peeped inside to see egg trays arranged on the right and packets of noodles on the left. And he had burner at the center and by the side there was a pan and a vessel. Both the things carbon black. We asked him about the menu. He said, “ Maggi aur Omlette hai saab.” He meant omlette and noodle. Me and Hrishi being vegan at that time, ordered noodles and Ameya and Mandar ordered omlette. I tried to warm my palms in the flames of the stove while Ameya told Hrishi about the whereabouts of the other team members. While eating the noodles Hrishi asked the vendor,

“Maggi to India me ban hai na?” “This noodle brand is banned in India right?”

To that, the vendor gave a sudden and witty reply that highlighted irony of India.

He answered, “ Ye India hai Sir”  “This is India Sir.”

We had nothing to cross question that answer with. We ate and paid.

              

               It was almost 2 o’clock when we started our way back to pavilion. And on the return journey, all other team members also joined us.  And the road in front of us started to descend and bike kept running all by itself. Manali seemed to have lost beneath the lightnings and clouds. Road was now all dried and with sparse movement of vehicles. And that tempted us to loosen our horses. And bikes started to descend faster. I, with few tips from google (which I read beforehand) and experience of riding bullet almost for 4 hours gained the confidence to cross 60kmph and so did my other teammates. And a random thought of finishing the ride by 4 and going back to tents to get some sleep touched my mind. And thought shattered with the shattering and skidding sound of the bike of Omkar. At a sharp turn, almost a 90°, Omkar must have lost his control or something (I couldn’t comprehend because I was lost in my own thoughts) and his bike went out of control. All our hearts came to mouth by the view. Omkar, to our and his own luck let go of his bike and got off of it at the exact moment and bike went straight into the valley. He took 2-3 rolls on the road and stood up. He must have damaged his knee, because when he stood up, he couldn’t walk without limping. By now we all parked our bikes and ran to him. We checked his condition and it wasn’t that bad. And after that we ran to the roadside from where bike went down. We stood at the edge and bike looked like a mess. Though it wasn’t too deep, must have been 40 or 50feet. But bringing up the bike from that depth was impossible for us. And away from the home-state, with no contacts and connections we felt helpless. And the expenses of hiring a crane or stuff put a big hole in our heart. And also, the damage that must have happened to the bike was going to put a big hole in Omkar’s pocket. But the instantaneous problem was bringing the bike up and taking it back to Manali market which still was halfway ahead of us. And we weren’t even sure, if bike would run again. We felt like Manali at that moment. Manali was covered in clouds of water and us with clouds of problems.

               We pondered over the possible solutions, like going to Manali and hiring a toe-crane, but crane could take at least 12 hours to hike all the steep slopes and we didn’t have that much time, rather we didn’t want to spend that much time. Thankfully it wasn’t raining so our brains weren’t clogged.  And we kept coming up with nonsense solutions. One involved letting go of the bike and paying the owner it’s full amount. One account student worked up with depreciation value and stuff to come up with a value. And that led to contribution of 6000 from each member. Which was a bullshit solution, but that’s how a scared mind works. No-one’s cell phone was working so we couldn’t make any calls.  Amidst all the confusion and fright, there came a Gypsy of hope. A khaki colored Gypsy, must be on the way to Leh came up the slope and stopped across the road. 2 Army commandos were in it. One disembarked (Six feet high, broad shoulders and khaki T-shirt with camouflaged pants) and walked to us.

“Kya hua? Aise beech road me khade mat raho. Aage badho.”  ‘What happened? You shouldn’t be jamming this narrow road. Go on ahead.’

Omkar spoke, “Hamari gaadi khai me gir gayi hai.” “My bike fell into the valley.”  The fear in his voice was clearly noticeable.  The military man walked to the edge of the road and saw the bike. He came back and said,

“Gaadi nikal ke dete hai. Agar chalti hai to leke jao, warna hamare canter se bhijwa denge.”  ‘We’ll help you bring up the bike. Take it down if it’s runnable and if not, then our canter will take it down to the market.’

And my faith in God just got restored. Omkar sighed sharply and thanked the man. The man talked on his satellite phone for a minute and within 10 minutes another 2 men came from the uphill on a Khaki Classic500. One had a red rope wrapped about his shoulder and some hooks hung to it. One of them descended down to the valley, swiftness in his movements, tied the rope to the handle, shock absorbers and rear tire. And came up in no time and all four of them started to drag the bike upwards. All the team members watched as the bike grew bigger. I, tired as hell walked back to my bike and rested my head on the helmet which I had kept on my fuel tank and closed my eyes.

               And then I came back tiresome reality, when Hrishi shook me, “Wake up!! We have to go down. Wake up!!”  And I saw all the team members on their bikes ready to go ahead. Omkar’s bike got fixed up. The military men reassembled its broken parts just enough to run it on first gear. I asked Hrishi to ride further and took the backseat. And ride began again. As we rode down the hill, I began to realize the essence of the events. The slippery road, water crossings, the peak, the snow, the rain, the troubles, the fall, the tea, the noodles, the help. All came and passed, and only ride kept on going. Maybe that’s how it works. Sitting in the backseat makes you think, it takes your mind off of the consciousness and fear of handling the vehicle. And free mind wanders into the depths of life and nature as well. Bright afternoon, the Kullu valley, never ending parallel walk of Beas river, its continuous gushing, the people, the tourists, occasional sighting of the cameras from backseats of the bikes and cars. It felt life inducing, lively, alive!

               We left the steep roads behind and comparatively plane terrain started, Manali started to appear like Manali.  In the main Manali market, we were supposed to return the bikes and go back to the camps. We had camped in the Beas banks, at a distance of 5 kilometers from main Manali Market. Just the thought of getting rid of the bikes, and returning back to the camps felt luring and soothing. We entered the Manali market and went straight to the bike shop. Ameya and Mandar had left us way behind and I was assuming that they had returned the bike and were waiting for us at the restaurant. Hrishi stopped the bike in front of the Manali Bikes Shop. I called Ameya just to make sure of his whereabouts. And that call sank my heart. Just when I started to feel that the day and the problems were over, it just wasn’t. I felt like running away. Ameya told me that he had reached the camp without returning the bike and that the camp was in the ruins. It had rained like hell in the camp area, and that the camp had been clogged in water since it was in the bank of river, the fear of our stuff been flown away occupied my mind. I felt like returning home. I missed home badly. But there was no escape. Me and Hrishi headed towards the camp. We crossed the metal bridge that connected shores of the river and my mind was so occupied with the fear, that the thuds of the steel bridge while the bike running on it didn’t fell on my ears.  And to add the flavors to the fear and disappointment, the rain caught us on the road back to camp. The southern rain that I enjoyed watching from the peak of Rohtang pass had messed up the camp, I figured out.  I missed home. I missed home!!  

               We reached the camp. Our multiple layers of warm clothes dripping wet. Camp tents were dripping wet as well. The river that gushed for the last week was now furious. And it was the first time I noticed it. We entered into the tent to see Ameya and Mandar gathering the stuff from the 6inch water that had filled the whole camp. Our power-banks, chargers, bags, kindles, clothes, shoes everything was a mess. I felt my eyes wet. Not sure of the reason though. We started to getting back the stuff together. We thankfully got a new and DRY tent. We shifted into it. We made petty efforts to remove water from the bags and wet clothes. We took some wet clothes to the kitchen and put those for drying near the Tandoor, because evening was closing in and we literally had nothing to wear for the coming night. Rain was still beating us. We hungry, found nothing to eat in the kitchen because we were too late for lunch and too early for dinner.  Evening came and we ate some biscuits with tea. And most importantly, we had one task remaining, and needed to accomplish before 8 o'clock. And its mere thought ridiculed me to the bones. And that was, returning the bikes to the bike vendor. Thought of 5 kilometers of riding to the market in the never stopping rains and also now in the dark, broke my heart. But I and Ameya had to do it. So, we got on the road once again.

               This was the second time I was leaving the camp. I compared the both the scenarios. In the morning, heart and weather both were clear, free of fears. And in the evening, both were filled. Mind with urge of returning home from this tiresome and patience testing tour and skies with lot to pour onto me and Manali. The events of the days were running on mind, just like the vehicles that ran on the road in the dark. Water droplets that glistened from the beams of headlights were the only clear thing that I could see, everything else was hazy.  I followed Ameya and he rode swiftly. And at one sharp turn I bumped into a pit. The bump was so hard that rear tire tube burst and my bike zigzagged for a several feet. I realized what just had happened. That was it. I felt like losing my mind.  I stood by the road side. Helpless. Ameya was long gone ahead. Rain hadn’t stopped yet. I took my phone out to call him. I tried to call Ameya, but couldn’t place the call because of the raindrops falling on the phone. I literally couldn’t operate the key-board. After struggling for few moments, I finally placed the call and It rang. Ameya picked it up right away and came back to me. Now we two, stood in the dark, helpless, missing home and food to somewhat extent. We had to take the bike anyhow to the Market because If we didn’t do it that day, we had to do it next day and next day we had to start our return journey to Pune. So, it had to be that day. And we didn’t know how.       

               We tried to get help of the small truck or something, but all in vain. We gave up. It was almost 10 o’clock.  Ameya called the bike owner to inform him and ask him for help.  He talked to the Bike Owner and my faith In God got restored again. The bike owner, told us to park the bike in nearby hotel and take the name of the hotel. He told us that bike had GPS and its almost theft proof. He asked to return the other bike. I along with Ameya went to market and returned Ameya’s bike. Paid some extra bucks for the supposed troubles he would have had to face regaining that bike from the River Side Cottages Manali where we parked it. We felt relieved and the rains also had stopped by now.  By the time we got out of the shop the godly owner asked us about our living arrangements, to which we replied in short. But what the owner told us, made us run even faster than the bullets itself. Because he told us that last bus that goes out of Manali to Bhuntar leaves at 11 o’clock was about to leave in 5 minutes and it was the last bus. If we miss that bus then we’d have to walk or hitchhike or spend the night in the Manali city itself. We short on cash, started to run our asses off towards the bus stop like mad dogs. The steel bridge thumped continuously by our footsteps for 10-15 seconds and called for attention from every passer but we didn’t give a shit and kept running.

               We reached the bus stop and saw the bus leaving. We embarked on it. Took the seats. It wasn’t too crowded. I sat. Wiped the sweat off my face and the cold air soothed me heart, soul and face also. At the Monastery two Buddhist monks also got on the bus. They sat on the seat perpendicular to mine. I could see their calm faces.  The red scarf around their necks and reddish saffron attire I don’t know what they call it, reminded me of Dalai Lama. Don’t know why. My phone rang. It was Priya. She asked about my day and I literally listed out the troubles I had, all day long. I whined about everything. From start of the day with freezing cold, the tiring ride, the never stopping rain, the bike in the abyss, the camp in the ruins, the wet clothes, the hunger, the rains again, the punctured bike, the rains again, the rains again and the rains again. I told her everything. And her reply left me speechless. She said just one thing.

“You were on an adventure trip and adventure happened to you. Stop whining and think of it, as it has passed. And thank the day, because you’ll never forget it.”

It hit. Like a truck. On the ears and the depths my heart. Yes. I was seeking the adventure all the week and I got it on the last day. It was with me the whole day, only I was too blind to see it and feel it. Everything started to fall into place. I got out of comfort zone, took up the challenge, faced it, got stuck, felt helpless, got tired, got wet, lost stuff, lost money but in the end, I came out of it. With tired body and a wise soul and partly empty pocket. Maybe that’s what it takes. Yeah, that’s how it works. I looked back at the half asleep Manali, full asleep and snoring Ameya and calm faced Monks. I literally shared that calmness with them. It felt surreal. It still feels surreal even after 3 years. I came to camp and to Pune, next day. Hugged the goodbyes to all the friends and thanked them for accompanying me on that adventure tour but I couldn’t be more grateful to 24^th of June 2015 than anything.

Photo Credits: Hrishi Gulhane