Aghan – 0 km


“Where is Nubra?”
“Nubra is going on since 40 km!”

We were eight friends, traveling in Laddakh. Four of us took-on Laddakh-ian roads on Bullet. Other four took a 4-wheeler. We were to visit a camp in Nubra Valley.

After several kilograms of Maggi and numerous litres of tea, we were nowhere near our actual plan. We thought Nubra Valley was a place where our camps were laid. Khardung-La was last where we met our friends. That was several hours ago. We decided to continue our journey.

Till that fateful junction, there was only one road. T-point is not good for travellers. We stopped there to decide which direction was the right direction. After 30-minutes discussion, we took the road which showed “Agham – 24 km”. Like T-point, assumption is also not good for travellers. We assumed that Agham was a town where we would find our camps and be reunited with our friends. I never missed my friends more.

Riding towards Agham, we came across the best views of our trip – and lives. Hills all around, running stream, lush green jungle, horses grazing, Laddakh-azure sky and clouds casting shadows on the hills. It was stunning – unreal and frightening – like a witch.

What kept us going was good condition of road – we felt that condition of the road was good because of regular usage. After 10 km we saw first milestone:

“Aghan – 14 km”

After that, milestones started raining.

At “Aghan – 0 km” we saw EXACTLY one house. If there exists superlative of flustered, we felt that. We rode few more kilometres to confirm if there was any mode of communication. But it was like chasing a goose which was wild and non-existent.

We checked-in the exactly-one-house. It was government rest-house. There were four residents: two children, one lady in mid-thirties and an old lady who wore sun-glasses when there was no sun and was bent like a chair – upside-down.

We paid Rs. 600 for the night-halt which included endless cups of tea and delicious dinner. We would have given our right arm in exchange for the stay.

After fixing our food and shelter, our minds wandered towards our friends:

“They might think that we are dead.”

“What if they inform our fathers?”

This was scary – very scary thought. There was no way we could contact them. We couldn’t return because of the dark. Signals had vanished from our cell phones.

"To hell with it. We’ll see whatever happens.”

With that intention we ordered another cup of tea and continued the banter, with nothing but sound of stream in background.

The next morning we rode towards Leh. We encountered land-slides. It took long to cross the roads which had land-movers, trucks and rocks along with us. And then snowfall started – out of sunny sky. Then sun also left us and hid behind what once looked like innocent clouds.

We braved them all, and reached our hotel. We all had a story to tell to our friends – and our grandchildren.
This post is an entry for a contest by CupONation, an online retailer of discount coupons, and The Shooting Star travel blog. 

Comments

Dhruvi Parmar said…
How do you get that kind of contests?
May 23, 2021 at 8:51 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Father - My Superhero

Image
There is no worse situation in life of a man than finding his father looking weak. The father can not be weak. He is THE hero, the first macho man that a boy comes across at the age of 3 years, when he is smart enough to look at and understand the world somewhat. He is HIM for the boy, the God whom no one can defeat. The boy finds pride when someone appreciates dad than the dad himself. Any mention of the boy resembling his dad gives strange pleasure which no one else can share. All the above mentioned feelings I have had as a child, boy and now as a man. I have cried for my dad, have taken offenses, had fights with my sisters and mom whenever they dared to disrespect him, even mildly. Not that I never fought with him. Of course I have. No father-son relationship is complete without a major disagreement or difference of opinions of both of them on next to everything, be it academics, cricket match, mom etc. Throughout my life, and earlier, my father has been a rebel, an egoist and a ma...
Read more

Hero to Zero

This post is the outcome of certain analogies that I developed while I was lying in my bed after going through numerous slides on how to save the world! Just a few days back, I was quite charged up: I got the placement after lot of struggle, people (genuine people) appreciated my efforts, I was quite energetic and ready to go! I tried a few things, but after that the pressure of subjects started. Quizzes, project reports, presentations, assignments and finally end-term exams. While I was lying there, I felt like that scientist, who just discovered a new element, but when he reached his home, his wife asked, "Tarkari laye?" which of course he forgot! This is a bad feeling. As we end our college, and become part of the new workforce, the chores of the daily life should not be such as to extract the creative juices and enthusiasm out of the soul. Here I am waiting for few hours and few days to pass so that I can go home and have some fun, those useless exams awaits me in between...
Read more

52W52B - Book 4 Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana

Image
My first tryst with Ramayana was when I watched it on TV on Doordarshan. Arun Govil was Ram. He always looked sad and weak. To my child’s mind that image was imprinted. He even looked weak to me because his face was always drawn. Expression of sorrow from a man was a clear cut sign of weakness for me. I could never understand why he was called Purushottam . So I disliked Ram. Similar was my impression of Sita. She was also always blue, with tears in her eyes. When I read “Sita”, lot of things changed for me. The book not only told about the way Ram, of Raghu Clan ruled his kingdom, but also about the chemistry between Ram and Sita. Ram is the pinnacle of human achievement. Everyone who came in contact with him, benefitted by “broadening of minds” and “reaching their human potential”. In his company, even animals became civilized. He was epitome of stoic, calm and composure. And so was Sita. While most of us believe that Sita was victim, first, when they went for Vanvaas, and ...
Read more