Getting Leh-ed in Mid-Life

GETTING LEH-ED IN MID-LIFE

A 2-Pager by Ajit Chaudhuri

“Pull up your sleeves – midlife is your best and last chance to become the real you.”



I have been off work from 1st July[1]. And I have just turned 45. What have I done with my time? Well, for one, I watched a lot of TV! And I learnt how to make an aaloo pyaaz exactly as I like to eat it, and will shortly graduate to mutton curry! I figured out how to butcher a few songs on the guitar! And yes, I went on a walkabout!



For those of you unfamiliar with the term ‘walkabout’ – it is an Australian Aboriginal concept relating to a journey undertaken in order to live a traditional life. The modern Ajit Chaudhuri method was to take off without a plan, without a destination, without a time frame and, last but not least, without my car and mobile phone. And to carry everything, including a tent and sleeping bag, on my back! The guiding principle was ‘if you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there!’



So, a short paragraph on where I went and what I did. The first bus from ISBT was heading to Shimla, a cesspool of the highest order where I survived one night before heading off on the old Hindustan-Tibet road to Kalpa in Kinnaur. Two days were spent just walking around, the first in the Pangi valley and the second to the ridgelines where the alpine meadows were plentiful. I then went to Kaza in Spiti, and spent two days walking there, one along the Spiti valley and one up to Kibbar. Then on to Gramphoo across the Kumzum Pass, where I caught a vehicle to Leh! I spent a lovely few days in Leh, including a day trip to Alchi, before heading back to Delhi via Manali. Except for the Shimla to Kaza stretch, I had been on all these routes earlier.



I learnt a few things on the road! One, I can still be a bum (and look one and be treated like one), with nothing to do and all the time in the world to do it, and enjoy it. Two, journeys can be fun when one doesn’t give a damn as to whether one reaches or not. There was a stretch between Nako and Chango on the Kinnaur – Kaza road that was under a landslide, and I was the only one on the bus unconcerned as to whether we would be proceeding to Kaza, returning to Rekong Peo, or spending the next few days next to the landslide. Three, women still treat me well! Forgotten pleasures from younger days were revisited, such as having a young woman sit next to me on a crowded last seat and lean into me during the curves on the road, and then continue to squeeze when space constraints on the seat had eased up. Four, Himachal Tourism has some really beautiful properties to stay in and, if one is not too particular about five-star service standards, offer great deals in terms of value for money.



Five, and a separate paragraph for this one, I am getting old! Except for the first (in Shimla) and last two (in Manali and on a bus to Delhi) nights of the journey, I was at an altitude of over 10,000 feet right through and, despite acclimatizing gradually and correctly, was in some discomfort while breathing. The worst was at Sarchu, just across the Baralacha and at about 14,000 feet, where I hardly got a wink at night. In contrast, the two Nepali drivers I was sharing a tent with were smiled at and offered booze by the dhaba owner’s daughter and subsequently disappeared until morning. And with age, my ability to take bad roads has deteriorated – I reached Leh in a terrible shape, bones creaking, back aching, ass sore, the works.



Leh itself continues to be pleasant. This may have had something to do with the fact that I was staying in a comfortable and cheap guesthouse[2], or that I was sentimental from returning after 10 years. Economic change has happened, people are better off, there are now one-way streets and traffic jams and yes, everyone is very, very busy. I am told that this changes in October, when the cold begins to set in and the tourists and the tourist traps head off to Goa and Pushkar, and Leh reverts to being a sleepy town where everyone is not desperately raking it in while the weather lasts. One of the most closely guarded secrets I have come across is how nice Leh is in winter, in dry cold, when the roads are snowed in and the locals revert to being themselves.



An article in Harvard Business Review[3] informs me that my entire generation[4] is in midlife and going off work at such a time may be a symptom of a crisis. The people around me, however, note the absence of the mandatory purchase of a motorcycle and/or the acquisition of a trophy girlfriend. They also note the (entirely coincidental) timing of the joblessness and of two major sporting events. Not a crisis, not a male menopause, they say, just a short and undoubtedly needed break that will recharge batteries and ensure longevity in the rat race. I sincerely hope they are right!


[1] No, this note is not going to develop into a request for loans and/or jobs, so please do read on. There is, of course, the possibility that my prospective employers do an “Ajit who?”

[2] This was Harmony Guest House on Fort Road and is owned and run by my colleague from SCF Tashi Cho, who is also the mother of my colleague Neelu in Care Today. So yes, if you are going to Leh and looking for a nice place to stay, do contact me for details.

[3] “The Existential Necessity of Mid-Life Change”, Carlo Strenger and Arie Ruttenberg, HBR of February 2008.

[4] The article says that those born between 1946 and 1964 constitute the baby boomer generation that is in mid-life. This means that I am in the same generation as my mother (yeeks!) and in a different one from my wife (that explains it!) and most of my brothers and sisters.