POSTCARDS FROM THE EDGE
Ajit Chaudhuri – February
2014
‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger’
- Friedrich Nietzsche
I’ve travelled a
bit in my fifty plus years, and done a few dumb things in the process. I place
the blame for these on a line of thinking that I have consistently adhered to
that goes ‘the nice thing about advice, no matter how credible, good or
sensible it is, is that I don’t have to take it’. If I’d known what I know now,
would I have done those things? I don’t know! Mad plans (or no plans), after
all, give space for serendipity to work its magic. And yet, when I look at the
following list of travel experiences that I would not advise anyone to repeat,
I cannot help but think, ‘Good God, was I really that stupid?’
Going Topless on Taglang La: I was trekking from Leh to Spiti in
August 1995 and decided to use the opportunity while crossing the Taglang La
pass to pose for a photograph next to the signboard (the photo is attached
below).
The temperature
at the time was -11c, and yes, the white in the background is snow. I was cold
from deep within for the next two days, and miserable too, but the stunt was well
worth it – it has set the gold standard for machismo or stupidity (depending
upon gender) among family and friends. When my grandchildren see me doddering
around with a walking stick and make fun, they will be shown this and told, ‘do
something similar, and then talk’.
Crossing the Arctic Circle in Winter: As a mid-career student in London in late
November 2001 (on a generous scholarship, may I add, and with wife and children
far away), I had a long weekend coming up and one of the things I hadn’t yet done
in life was see the aurora borealis.
Where could one do this? The chances were higher the further north one was, I
was told, so I booked a ticket from London to Oslo and then onwards north to
Tromso at 70 degrees latitude, and duly spent the weekend there. The damn
lights refused to oblige, however, and I returned without seeing them, but I
had a pretty good time supporting the local alcohol and nightclub industries –
the appended link has a detailed account of my adventures there. The surprising
thing was that, despite the heavy snow, it wasn’t too cold (the Barents Sea has
a warm water current) and it also wasn’t too weird having no sun and seeing,
instead, the effects of moonlight on snow through the day. Beautiful! But never
again!
Visit to Ukhrul: Manipur in early 1997 was a mess! The Nagas were
fighting the Kukis, the Meiteis were fighting the hill tribes, the drug dealers
were fighting the Church and everyone was fighting the Army, and I was in the
state with a colleague, Dr. Sunil Kaul, to appraise an NGO for possible
financial support. We could have done it sitting in the state capital, Imphal,
but decided, what the hell, let’s go and see the NGO where it worked, in the
hills in Ukhrul. Not an easy decision, may I add, because the organization
leading the Naga insurgency (the NSCN-IM, for the pundits among you) was
founded and headquartered there, and because the foothills, which we would have
had to pass through, were under the control of Kuki militant groups.
The daylong
journey from Imphal was tense, but we ended up in a place that would have made
Kashmir seem ordinary – beautiful rolling hills lightly covered in mist, the
smell of light rain on dry ground, and little log cabins with smoking chimneys
intermittently spread across the hillside. The NGO had a training centre a
little away from town, another log cabin, and we were put up there.
Coincidentally, a group of 19 young ladies were being trained in the arts of
beekeeping (or something) there at the time, and they were told that ‘two young
men have come from Delhi – look after them!’ The quality of care that we got over
the next day was unimaginable! To give you an idea, to wash hands before our evening
meal, four young ladies came up to us; one with a kettle of hot water, one with
a bowl for the used water to fall into, one with soap and one with a towel.
Seven star hotels – you don’t compare!
Driving Holiday to Yamunotri: My family has been taking driving
holidays together since 2001. They usually follow a pattern; a 6 to 18 day
duration, an intended destination from which to begin the return journey but no
plans on where to stop for nights or routes to take, and a promise upon
returning to Delhi never to do it again because we are all sick of each other. In
the process, we have made some interesting journeys, stayed in some excellent
(and some terrible) hotels, eaten some unusual food and seen some exotic
sights. But once, and only once, in 2005, did we leave the house with
absolutely no destination in mind. We took NH1 towards Chandigarh, turned east somewhere
towards Paonta Saheb, and then north again at Vikas Nagar, stopped for a night
on the way, and finally ended up at a yatri
niwas in Janki Chatti (which my kids renamed Janki’s Chaddi), where one
begins the 6 km walk to Yamunotri. The next day, we did the walk up and down,
with my kids aged 5 and 8 being bribed with the promise of a prize if they made
it without a horse, which they duly did. We made quite a contrast to the yatris on the trail.
Fieldwork in Panjab and Waras: Being entrusted with the task of
evaluating a training centre in Bamiyan (Afghanistan, summer of 2009) did not
require me to visit the centre’s extension outposts in the province’s remote
districts, but I asked to do so anyway. ‘If I am required to attest to their
existence,’ I told my rather incredulous hosts, who were more used to the
opposite sort of requests from consultants, ‘I will have to see them.’ Thus
began a journey in a muscular 4-wheel-drive through some of the toughest
terrain in the world, the central highland region of Afghanistan, from Bamiyan via
Yakawlang to the districts of Panjab and Waras. The highlight of the visit was
a stopover on the way back at Bandh-e-Amir, a series of seven large, naturally
formed, stepped, blue water lakes, one of the remotest and most beautiful
wonders of nature, where I even managed to get a boat out into the waters. I am
informed that the journey is off limits now because of some recent kidnappings
indicating Taliban activity in the region, and I am damned glad that I did it
when I could.
Conclusions: If the tone of this paper indicates that mad
travel-related stuff is relegated to the past let me assure you that such is,
hopefully, not the case. To conclude, I list out five acts that, inshallah, I
will do some day in the future.
1.
Trek
around Mt. Nanda Devi – this involves going north in Kumaon, crossing Milam and
then hitting the 5,000 meter plus passes Unta Dhura, Khingri Bingri and Jandi
Dhura, going around the Nanda Devi and getting back via Garhwal. Some day when
my trekking friends and I have sufficient contact in the Home Ministry to get
the necessary permissions …
2.
Watch
a Millwall match at The Den – this is one of the roughest and most passionate
football crowds in the UK, who mix their passion for football and love for
their club with racism, anti-immigration, and right wing politics. Not a place
for the faint-hearted, but I look forward to my friend Tony (who ashamedly
admitted to being a Millwall fan) taking me there some day.
3.
Travel
up the Wakhan Corridor – I have been several times to the province of
Badakhshan in Afghanistan, and one day want to see its most remote district,
Pamir, and to travel along the buffer zone between the British and Russian empires,
in the narrow sliver of land between the Tian Shan, Hindukush and Karakorum
mountain ranges. This is the Wakhan Corridor.
4.
Take
an Alaskan Cruise – get on to a ship in Seattle, and take a journey northwards
along the western American coastline across the Puget Sound, then British
Columbia (Canada) and then Alaska, through the many little islands in this part
of the Pacific, and preferably with my larger family.
5.
Visit
the battle sites of the Mongol Army’s western campaigns of the 13th
century – these are spread across modern day Poland, Hungary, Ukraine and
Russia, in places like Legnica, Kalka River, Ryazan, Suzdal and Mohi.
