Day 3: Lamayuru to Leh

We make it a habit of getting up late. Not my style, but when in a group, do as….

We are still at Ule. The toilets are outside, so each time I pee I fetch the torch and grope my way out. Do not forget the torch.

It gets light early. 5 AM. When I get out of the bath and tie my hair in the mirror, there are mountains, poplars, stark blue sky behind. Can you believe that?

Now let me introduce you to the one and only…wait for the trumpets….turrumpurrumparaaaaa…. DAWA. Driver, ex army, Tibet born. Who regales us with his stories, songs, anecdotes. Who berates us for being late everyday, every time. “Aree modom, bosh ko bolna podtha hai na. Feeer aap late ho joege.” (Madam, Have to report to the boss, you will be late again)

Meet Dawa

While we are clicking snaps at Ule, Dawa comes running in, gesticulating and shouting. “Shob koi chala gaya, cholo, cholo.” Deepika wonders why the owner is shooing us away. She isn’t in our car; anyway we did not know Dawa well yet. But we meekly obey his bulk.

Breakfast at 9:30. Now to Lamayuru.

Lamayuru. A much larger, spread out monastery. Bright red prayer wheels. Young monks sit hunched in sunglasses and pose cheekily. Old monks sit on the stairs in pairs, pose for photos. Once you finish, they raise their palms and grin toothless, “Baksheesh?”

We are hungry and have lunch at the Khaltsi village. Rajma chawal, egg rice. We stuff it in. I meet a man who sells liquor. A rarity in Ladakh.

Almost 5 hours from Lamayuru to Leh.

I have Thenthuk at Golden Dragon which is much too spicy. The saving grace was Godfather beer. So yum.

Day 2: Towards the Indus

Close your eyes for a second and open it again. See! Miles and miles of such lovely landscape! Mountains in all colours, brown, blue, white, grey. Dotted by oases, just like shiny green pearls. Melting snow turn into sudden streams. Every corner a new marvel.

We are moving out of Leh today. Leh to Alchi to Ule. That is the plan.

We stop at the Gurudwara Pathar Sahib on our way. The impression of Guru Nanak's back on a large boulder, allegedly hurled by the demon, is the big attraction.

Then - fulfillment of a lifelong dream and steeped in much history. We stop by the confluence of the Indus and Zanskar river. Where civilization thrived many many millenniums ago. Muddy though, not blue. Just like the mountains around - arid, barren, hot, serrated.

There is a small monastery called Alchi, built by Rinchen Zangpo. I notice the chortens, mound like structure which symbolizes the oneness of life. Flowers beginning to bloom. I use my sweater as cover in the heat. The vagaries of weather in Ladakh. Days are searing, nights freeze over.

We are staying at Ule Ethnic resort, run by Overland Escape. We are so hungry when we arrive. I gorge on the pasta, strange yummy potato pancakes and cream, dal rice, suji halwa. I forget to even take pictures.

The place overlooks the mighty Indus which runs below. Mountains on one side, apricot and apple laden trees on another. As close to nature as it gets. We remark delightedly when we see stars above. So clear and dense is the sky.

At night we play Dumb Charades. Drink beer. The Indus flows by. Somewhat quiet.

Day 1: Landing in Leh

My flight from Mumbai leaves at 2:25 in the morning. At first I wonder if this flies out from the international terminal. Turns out it doesn’t. Several sleepless hours later I land at Delhi, and then catch another flight to Leh. Thank God for the swanky refurbished Delhi airport and carry through luggage system.

6:30 AM the plane is circling Leh. Lo behold! Is that an airport? Tiny, tucked away amidst towering mountains? Snowy, scratchy white on top of brown barren rocks. I land all bright eyed, open mouthed. But breathe now. Breathe deep. Remember acclimatization?

I meet Raj & Rajan. Two round and jolly men. I am meeting the first two members of a completely random group of 8 people. Suddenly, the prospect doesn't seem so scary.

15 minutes to Zeejeed Palace. Look at the stream, the pines, the flowers, the garden! Picture timeeeee.

                           Zeejeed Palace, our homestay at Leh

I stop and remind myself several times. Are the breaths deep and bellyful? Remember acclimatization? Rest aplenty.

After a long nap till 4, I meet some of the rest of the gang. We decide to head to the market at Changspa to eat. We walk to Otsal, by the big red revolving prayer bell. Thukpa and mint tea. Is all food this good?

                                        Otsal

We walk through the market which looks a bit overcrowded. And yes, touristy. Tibetan stalls, Janpath wares on roads. I notice two mosques – Shia and Sunni. Leh Palace. A colourful fruit market. The stream we cross in Otsal has disappeared by the time we head back.

Dinner at Otsal again. Dal, rice and rum (covert mind you). And acclimatization? Umm,. Just this once….one peg, and no harm done. Tungbos zabos (enough to eat, enough to drink)

We head back. Torches on. Dinesh warns watch out, and promptly falls flat on his face. We give a short laugh at the irony and help him up.

So dark are the roads. So still the black night.

Back, with a shot of health

Bright, fresh and hearty with mountain air, I am back from Ladakh.

It was as beautiful as I’d heard. Miles and miles of spectacular landscape, green oases springing up in seemingly barren land, snow somewhere, rainbows elsewhere, smiling faces, sumptuous food.

But tourism has left its dirty mark, and to an extent so has development. Electric poles dot pristine settings, plastic bottles by virgin countryside, smoke billowing from army trucks. They can be quite the persistent put offs.

But let me start with day one…..

Ladakh: I am off!

So, next time I will no longer feign ignorance of (atleast a bit) of the gorgeousness that is India.

I reach tomorrow morning at 7:45 AM. A little worried about acclimatization. Some tips here. I could not pack very light, had to carry the sweaters, mittens, socks. Tripod as well.

Such fun! Be back and let you know how it was.

Ode to the shoe

White and fresh when I bought you
So much so I cringed
But not for long, the miles I walked
Grayed your edges quick
Now you wear your age with grace
Frayed with endless walks
With me on my many trips
On your last days now. Sob!

My companion, you shall be missed.

Ladakh: A whole new world

So, I finally broke the news to my parents, and they seem to take it stoically. My heart is relieved, and I can start to heighten my excitement.

I am halfway through Ancient Futures, and several things strike me.

Ladakh or La dags, the Land of Mountain Passes, is a two thousand year old kingdom of Tatar herders who learnt to grow barley and few other crops like peas, turnips etc. It is divided into Hindu (Leh) and Muslim regions (Kargil). Tibetan Mahayana Buddhism is the predominant religion, and the Dalai Lama is the spiritual leader.

Ladakh is scorched by the sun in the summer, while the entire region freezes solid for eight months in winter. When temperatures drop to as low as minus forty degrees. The vast majority of Ladakhis are self supporting farmers, living in small settlements scattered in the high desert. Their grazing land is called phu. It also supports a variety of wildlife, including blue sheep, the snow leopard, and wolves. They have an animal Dzo, hybrid of Asian cattle and yak.

Salty butter tea (soldja) – what seems to be an acquired taste. Salt and butter in tea? That must be weird! Most of the barley is roasted and then ground into flour, making the ngamphe. There is the pancake shaped bread – tagi shamo, and thicker, rounder loaves – khambit that are baked over the ashes. Excess barley is made into chang – their liquor. The list to try grows longer.

Some phrases repeat often – Schon chan which means one who angers easily. Apparently, this is the worst insult you can hurl on them. And Chi choen – what is the point, which encapsulates their attitude. Apart from that the universal greeting – “Jule, karu skyodat-le” (Hello, where are you going?)

What stands out – if you’ve noticed in all pictures – the smile on their faces. They always seem happy. Smiling. At peace. It’s the Ladhaki attitude to life – and death – based on an intuitive understanding of impermanence and a consequent lack of attachment.

I have now moved on to the chapters called – Change – where Helena Norberg- Hodge expresses her ire on tourism into the region and the negative effects. The more external factors come into our lives, the more we move away from our old, peaceful, traditional ways of life. Less complicated to more.

But that is the challenge no? For us and them. To be tranquil in the face of disruption and change.

Imagine, what would have happened if there was no tourism in Ladakh? Where would all those beautiful pictures and stories come from? A gorgeous whole world, locked away. Knowledge should go hand in hand with discernment and wisdom.

Seven days remaining….

March against abuse

I felt obliged to add this here - Slutwalk - read more.

I am not sure if this happened in Mumbai, I would be brave enough to participate. Given we are taught to be cowed by unwarranted male attention, keep off the male eye, ignore if pawed. Why draw attention to yourself? Why prolong the pain? Even after years of walking on the streets and abused verbally sometimes physically, we brave on. Silent.

I doubt this will ever change. But one can hope.

As one placard at a protest in England said, “Stop telling me: don’t get raped. Tell men: don’t rape”

Another day, another French place

Where is the gap? We have plenty of American joints – fast food and gourmet, Italian, Thai, Chinese, and of course now French. There is so much to experiment here. I discovered Suzette – another session in French cuisine. For me.

This is small hole in the wall eatery at Atlanta Bldg, Nariman Point. I was guided to select two sweet crêpes by a very helpful, smiley lady – and chose apple and Belgian Chocolate flavours.

Verdict: The ambience is very authentic - reminded me of my few days in Paris - espresso shots and toast. Loved the apple crêpe. Need to go there again for more. Pity it is closed on Sundays.

A sunday brunch

This is what it was.

Sunday afternoon. Cloudy skies. Languid rainfall. A French boulangerie.

The medley of cream, bread and grapes linger. Tartines. Sweet mango tarts.

Le Pain Quotidien on a rainy afternoon.

The monsoon brings along a lot of joy, eh?

Verdict: Rs 1000 per head (with one drink), ambience very nice, I preferred the plain vanilla breakfast options (French toast, banana and honey), and of course the desserts. Main course not so satisfactory for my Indian palate.

The call of the Buddha

For my mid year holiday, I chose Ladakh. I was contemplating Japan for a while, return tickets from Mumbai are as low as 19k right now, but convincing my parents would have been an uphill task, and considering that much in my life is de novo right now, I chose the easier option. Albeit, no less expensive.

I understand Buddhism more than any other tenet. No dogmas, no crippling rules, no discrimination, just little practical advice. Thoughts on impermanence of life, interdependence of everything and the non duality of nature. Ladakh, being the seat of a thriving Buddhist population, should give me a peek into their culture. Plus, I hear it is unimaginably beautiful.

To prepare myself, I am reading Ancient Futures and The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying – each of which I must admit is not only very interesting, but infinitely calming. I cannot explain it.

The rains have arrived…

As I write this, the dew soaked draft brushes the nape of my neck. I can smell newly washed earth as rain drops burrowing into the mud. Fresh, fresh, fresh, everything screams.

I sleep in my weekend afternoons, stretching in pleasure when I hear the rain lashing against my windows. Cold air envelopes me. In the warmth of my home.

Of course, mud, slush and spit will await me as I walk outside. But then, little irritants.