Day 1 (Leh, TCV)

Day 1

It was 19th of july, we had just returned from the jungles of Kanha when I had a look at my semester schedule. Whoa! 20, 21, 22nd of August were the empty spaces and as you know an empty mind is a devil’s den. Something cooked up in my mind and I compelled my mother to take me to Leh, the land I was desperately waiting to discover. And as you know, my bribes and evil measures always work out and she booked our tickets to Leh!

Then came the most awaited date – mighty 19th of August. I was desperate the entire day. An irresistible desire took birth inside me and finally they arrived, we packed our bags and got ready for the new roll.

4:45 am, boarded Delhi-Leh flight, fell asleep in the flight and woke up with a sudden start on hearing ooh’s and aah’s. Well, we were flying above the pristine white mountains. I captured some pictures and then finally we landed on ‘the land of the llama’. And there is a very interesting saying associated to this land – In the land of llama, don’t be a gamma. It may appear lame but it actually means to keep a slow pace as oxygen is exiguous here. I had fought with my mother the previous day and forcefully removed all the sweaters from the luggage. But as soon as we stepped on the airport, a sudden chill pierced through our spines and mom ran after me to strangle me real hard. Though it was a decent 15 degrees, but the chilly breeze made it tough.

I forgot to mention that I had forced my grandmother too to come with us and hence there were daughters all around. :-P

Finally we reached the hotel and I closed my mouth. (Well, it was open during the entire trip owing to the beauty incarnate landscape). It was a comfortable dark room.

In the corner near the window was a large coloured vessel with a cork. The effulgent cups registered their presence.

I opened the cork and out came the smell of ‘fresh brewed mountain tea’. It was a choking moment for me as it made me aware of my incognito roots in the mountains of the north. Sipping hot tea while watching the majestic mountains was a serene moment. This moment was momentous and a moment of silence. This was followed by more tea and even more till we were fully satiated.

The manager instructed us to take rest for some hours as that would help us in acclimatization. We embraced the warmth of the quilts at 9 am and opened our dreamy eyes at 1 pm. Well, it was a long afternoon cum morning siesta in the heights. The sleeping rats woke up too and demanded a delicious lunch which came as a basket of hot traditional dal and rice. And then, we kick started our journey.

I always wanted to visit TCV Leh and learn about the infrastructure there. So, we first landed up in TCV. As it was a Saturday, so it was a half day. The children were back to their hostels and group homes. In the office we met beautiful Sonam and I gave her two copies of HOP. She took us around. Inside the campus, the air had a different spirit. There were many red-cheeked children engaged in daily chores. They looked cute in their blue trousers and navy green sweaters. Suddenly a euphonious sound reached my ears and my soul drifted all by itself towards the source. The music room was full of young musicians. They were learning flute and Tibetan guitar from the teacher to be presented in the evening cultural session. It was a divine music. I examined each and every face and noticed the presence of ‘the present’. Then we went to the group homes where the children were assisting their house mothers in completing the daily chores. The smiling faces had a kind of unexplainable radiance on them.

Well, let me tell you one thing. You can put plates of food in front of a child but can never teach him/her the etiquettes of eating unless you try yourself. The same applies in this case too. People resist from sponsoring children in TCV. They instead donate some money to the local chartable institutions who make a mockery of the funds. TCV focuses on the overall development of the child. It makes a child aware of not only the technical happening in the world but also makes one compatible with the human lifestyle. Handling and re-shaping hundreds of student ranging from toddlers to youth living miles away from their parents is indeed a difficult task. The family bonds, love, care affection, feelings – I just can’t say what I want to express. I felt the same when I visited TCV Dharamshala. In nutshell, what I want from you all is help – just help TCV in successfully carrying out its task of providing education – the building and basic block of human sustenance in today’s world. Just don’t expect. Your selflessness would definitely help someone to turn his/her dreams to reality.

Man! I am not coaxing but just trying to write the stuff I actually felt there. I could feel the genuineness and satisfaction in the atmosphere. You must come here and experience the hidden world. Kartik Iyengar, Rohit Tiwari, Nikhil Kuber Dubey, Subarna and many more are living examples. They all are rich and well established in their fields. And there is no craziest reason on earth for their association to such a remote place of the earth – TCV. But still, I’ve seen the spark in their eyes whenever one mentions about TCV. There is a guiding juggernaut behind their every action. They are the supporters of humanity. They know that these very kids who have no land to call their own not only need help but love and affection. They can see the future of the nation in these innocent souls. I think I have said it all. JUST HELP THEM!!!

With a strong tornado of these thoughts I bade the kids goodbye. I wanted to be there again. And that was when I made the first sincere promise of my life – better life for them. While I was engrossed in this clash, we reached the ‘sangam’. This is basically a place where two rivers – zanskar and Indus meet to make Indus yet again which then flows to Pakistan. On way back, we stopped at the magnetic hill. This is actually a place where people say ‘gravity laws are not obeyed’ and I saw that myself.

Next was the ‘hall of fame’ – an army museum. It has information about every war fought in the region and a list of martyrs. While going through the list, I saw a letter. It was written by col. Vijayant thapar, 22. Tears trickled from my eyes as soon as I read the first sentence – dear papa, I know that by the time this letter reaches you, I’ll be enjoying the company of the stars… This was something uncommon. But be it an Indian or a Pakistani, a soldier always fights. I also read the letter by a Pakistani soldier to his father. I felt bad.

I stepped in the courtyard of the building where the Indian tricolour was flying smoothly against the rugged terrain. There is something in the three colours of saffron, white and green that makes one sacrifice one’s life for the motherland.

The flag looked so peaceful, so full of life. It seemed to have seen the internecine battles, glorious victories and horrendous loses. It represented the selfless sacrifice of the soldiers. It enveloped the entire gnarled history of the nation.

And just then an autorickshaw passed by with a hoarding of a political party. Fuck! These politicians have nothing to do with the country. They are neither men nor women. Their only interest lies in money and securing their personal interests.

Pratibha Patil in Siachen, so what? Can she actually get to know what the soldiers there go through in order to keep her spects perfectly positioned on her nose. Never, she can never! Lok Sabha, Rajya Sabha, scams, blah, blah, blah! So much new for the media. ‘Priyanka Chopra and Shahid spotted together’. ‘Minissha caught at the airport with undeclared foreign purchase’. You enjoy this, don’t you? Well, this jazzes up your morning coffee session. ‘ dabang bags the filmfare’.

And far away from the city traffic, the glamour, a young soldier weeps silently remembering his family, the nostalgic memories. A family photograph in sepia tone reminds him of his other part. His gentle caress on the silhouette marks his decision to save the country from the intruders and sacrifice the family ties, inspite of the overflowing love in both the directions. He knows the value of the soil he is standing on and tears roll down his eyes. His faint whimper is engulfed and lost in the frightening terrain and heights. And in the city, a champagne marks the onset of a wild night party.  Yeah, you don’t really care about the desh seva kind of stuff in your language. And then comes the IPL, bidding! The whole nation goes crazy. ‘10 soldiers die in combat with the millitants’, ‘IM takes the responsibility for the blasts’. Dad! I am getting bored of this terrorist news, please change the channel. Yes honey, I need to watch ‘saas bhi kabhi bahu thi’, there is lot of tension going on in mihir’s family. And somewhere in the ice-cold heights, a young commando dies. RIP.

I wanted to do something right then, like taking a kalashinov and shooting all the corrupt politicians of the country. But then, Gandhiji did it all without a single show of violence and so is Anna. The tricolour still was flying majestically.

30 more minutes and I am at the shanti stupa. It is a beautiful place. Rather the most beautiful and calm place in the world. I can see many tourists here and there, taking pictures and discussing with the locals. My mind still flickers between the incidences not long before. Suddenly a sense of calmness engulfs me. I hear a distant thunder. I look around. People hastily make their way back. I can see my mother and grandmother enjoying the beauty of the surroundings. I remove my shoes and climb the ice cold marble stairs. Yet another set of stairs and then I am at the top. A bunch of kids try to persuade their parents to take them away. I see something – a yellow Buddha. I freeze at my location. I see the surroundings – setting sun, golden mountains. A Buddhist monk climbs up the stairs and goes round the stupa while chanting ‘om mani padmion’. I feel a sense of relief. I stare at those half open eyes – the calmness they reflect seeps inside. Cool mountain breeze enters my soul and unwinds the complicated threads of thoughts. I feel happy and I smile. I can see a similarity between the two smiles – incognito connections. The statue of Buddha seems so full of life suddenly. I feel an envelope of sleep. I close my eyes. My mother pats my back, an indication to leave the place. I reluctantly get up. I feel some invisible shackles pulling me back to the yellow figure. I feel contented. And here I make the second serious promise of my life – to turn into a Buddhist after two years.

I descend down the stairs. I stop and turn back to have a look once again. The place seems to diminish into the sea of tranquillity thus merging with the surroundings of the dusk. I come back to the room.

It was a hard day. Tacit tumult to be understood only by the inner self. Live for a cause, nothing  matters, nobody matters, a better world, clashes within self, make people smile – as they revolve real hard in the tornado of the draconian state of mind, I peacefully dose off with the yellow figure before my eyes and the gateway to ‘something esoteric’.