The one thing that still thrills me about my entire stay was the clear, deep blue sky that gently touches your soul and unknowingly makes your heart smile. Not a cloud in the sky during the second week of December. And the blue was a very rich, bright, azure blue that I had never seen before. This was on my mind the next morning when I left for Rohthang Pass. The brochure said the Pass itself was at an altitude of thirteen thousand four hundred feet (although sign boards there said thirteen thousand one hundred feet… didn’t matter to me! It was pretty high up anyway!… about seven thousand feet higher than the town of Manali. The distance to the pass from downtown was about fifty-two kilometers. So, I mentally made a calculation as to the altitude I would be climbing per kilometer traveled. I sensed it was going to be a hair-raising journey. I was not disappointed, but for reasons I was not ready for!
The roads were, again, narrow, steep and winding. (Well, that much was expected by now.) But this road was quite precarious as well. It had a mountain face for a wall and no barricades or any protection on the other side. So, if one fell on the other side, it was a drop of about… I stopped that line of thought and instead focused on the scenery.
Interestingly, even though I drove in this car the day before, it was only then that I noticed the make and model of the car. One would like to have a four-wheel drive, heavy tonnage, high horse-power, great capacity engine car. But alas! That is not what I had. It was a front-wheel drive, forty-seven bhp, light-weight Maruti Alto! The saving grace here was a driver who was exceptionally skillful and knowledgeable of the terrain.
We passed through some spectacular waterfalls which, even more spectacularly, in some areas had frozen over in beautiful formations. In some areas where the sun does not shine any water froze over, causing slippery patches of ice. The driver negotiated the ice, bad road conditions, and major potholes with great aplomb. I was thoroughly impressed with his skill. But of all the things, the one memory that I retain is that of enjoying the scenery unfolding in front of me to the tune of `Aashique Banaaya’. Somehow the music and the scenery didn’t seem to gel well in my mind, but I figured it helped the driver calm his nerves and drive better, and hence, I shouldn’t tamper with it.
The drive was simply superb and I was treated to some of the breathtaking scenery. As we climbed higher, we could see the valley unfold beneath us, constantly moving from our left to our right below us as we wound our way to the top. The villages below were partially covered with clouds. That’s when realization struck me as to why I saw only blue skies: we were above the clouds. After all, I was in heaven, in a place where Gods belong.
All through the drive, I constantly kept telling the driver, `Ek minute bhaiyya, aur ek photo lena hai!’ (One minute sir, I’d like to take one more photo.) Of course, getting out of the car from time to time also helped me alleviate the stress caused by the now very repetitive and clichéd song. I was a maniac with the camera. I wanted to capture each square inch of the landscape I was viewing to take back to my friends and family. Every time the landscape changed even slightly, it seemed like a completely new scenery and it was a completely new mindblowing experience that warranted another photograph. Every inch of snow, craggy rock formation, shape of the peak, flow of river, patch of ice, valleys- everything.
After a few incidents (car stuck in an ice patch, I slipped and almost fell down a crevice etc.), passing a few villages on the way, and a chai break at a village called Marhi, we reached Rohthang Pass in a couple of hours. I got out of the car with my heart beating wildly due to the hair-raising drive I went through- every bit as exhilarating as it was scary.
It took one glance at what Rohthang Pass had to offer to me to fall in love with that place. Words couldn’t adequately describe this feeling that surged through me- I had never felt it before and I suspect I would never feel it again. A strong cold breeze was blowing across the pass. As soon as I got out of the car, my ears plugged up, my nose started to run and my extremities froze. I put on the necessary warm accessories and looked around. The number thirteen thousand struck me as being immense and yet, it meant nothing.
The road went on a higher ground, and everybody walked down to a small patch of ice and snow, about thirty feet of gentle downward slope. The patch of ice and snow was about twenty by thirty square feet and was densely crowded with people. Many were attempting to ski with the guidance and help of experts who led them by their hands. Almost immediately, I decided to avoid that entire area. I looked around and decided on a hiking course that purposefully skirted around the popular spot. I set out along this path all alone, feeling like the frontiersmen of the past.
As I hiked, I noticed the strange and wonderfully unique rock formations, and the way these mountains had been carved over the ages. In some places wide channels had been cut, probably by some river which had since then dried up. In other places, the face of the mountain was almost flat giving rise to a sheer cliff and making it inaccessible to a hiker. One needed rock-climbing equipment to scale these peaks. Closer examination of one of these faces showed that the wall was not as smooth as it initially appeared but had many hidden grooves and ridges. I had probably covered around a kilometer distance and was about five hundred feet higher in altitude than the road we had traveled by car. I was completely out of breath in such a short period of time. And I have always taken pride in my fitness, and I was a veteran of several hikes under various difficult conditions. But this was my first hike at greater than ten thousand feet altitude, so I took solace from that fact.
I rested my back against a rock face that shielded me away from the blowing wind and took account of my surroundings. It suddenly popped into my head that these mountain ranges were quite young in geological age. I wasn’t sure of what to make of that fact, nor how to relate it to the present. From this vantage point, I observed the people on and around the ice patch.
Everyone, almost without exception, was shouting and shrieking with glee at their efforts in whatever they were doing. Each one of those cries was primitive and pristine, very much like any wild animal. These humans were wild and unmitigated, child-like in their expressions. I had been on many hikes wherein there would always be this one environmentalist group or individual who would do anything to hear a bird chirp or an animal make a sound. But these same people would never tolerate a human voice, and any kind of joyous shout would be treated with extreme condescension. But on that day, at Rothang Pass, I felt that evolved human being ought to be allowed to express his or her primitive side, or the innocence of a child which is an integral part of every human being.
While watching them, I felt a certain peace and solitude spread through my entire being. A strange inner calm coursed through my veins. I wasn’t sure if it was the blowing wind or my own mind that was responsible for muffling the shrieks and cries. The colorful parade of people dancing and frolicking faded into a distant background whereas the pristine mountains began to loom in the foreground. I felt drained of all emotions, and the chill, cold, stuffy ears, and runny nose simply disappeared.
Is this what Manu did? I couldn’t help wonder then. Did he distance himself from everyone else and observe them with objectivity. Did he feel this calmness that I now did? Or am I simply trying to glorify myself to be more than what I was feeling? Did he, while observing the wild pre-historic man, figure out a way to improve each individual’s lifestyle and that of the entire species? Was this how the first steps of mental evolution began? Or was this observation the result of my own mental evolution? Maybe Manu felt more than just what I was feeling. He must have. I felt both glorified and humbled at the same moment!
I couldn’t help ponder about this for a while. How do I capture this emotion? I had never felt anything like this before. Maybe this heavenly place, this breath-arresting altitude, this personal solitude, this quiet and thin air has something in it that makes people think the way they do. Maybe this is why Manu came from here. Not from Delhi, not from Kolkata, not from Chennai, nor from Mumbai. But from Manali, at this altitude, with the cold and hot weather extremes and thin air. I had a wonderful moment of introspection and made my way back slowly to the car.
The drive back, in theory , was the exact reverse of the drive up. But that was just theory. Reality proved that it was a whole new experience. The sun was sinking in the western sky, thus illuminating some regions while creating shadows in other areas. And further the ball of light sank, the more colorful the horizon began to get. So it was no wonder to the driver that again I kept requesting him to stop every few yards or so.
Another difference between the drive up and drive back was that during the drive up, the day kept getting warmer, while during the return, it kept getting colder. Quite rapidly, as well. It then struck me that not all people here had modern amenities and comforts such as heating. So, I cautiously inquired of the driver as to how people in general kept themselves warm at night. Log fires, he replied. But that would go out quickly, I wondered aloud.
To which he said, “Han ji! Bahuth thand ho jaatha hai raath mein. Iseeliye hum ko dhaaru peena hai!” (Yes sir. It does get very cold at night. That is why we drink liquor.)
Hmmm… The liquor keeps them warm? Maybe. At least it should help keep the blood circulation up, I presumed. Then another thought crossed my mind based on what I had heard from others, and I couldn’t resist asking him.
“Han ji!”, he replied, “Bhaang bacchon ko dethe hain hum. Thoda sa!” (Oh yeah! We give bhaang to kids. Just a little bit.) He held his thumb and forefinger apart from each other, to indicate the amount given. “Lena padtha hai, neendh aane ke liye.” (One has to take it. To help sleep better.) So that’s why all these alcoholic spirits are for, I thought. To help sleep, not because of any other effects. Somehow, this whole conversation amused me, and I couldn’t stifle a slight giggle. I figured it must be my uptight, prudish and religious upbringing which forbade even discussing these sinful things.
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