Last flight out of Ladakh: Chapter 2 - Day 0

Last flight out of Ladakh: Chapter 2 - Day 0

When Anshul entered the dining room in the Panorama Hotel, the room was almost half full already. Some trekkers were pacing outside for getting water but mostly were huddled in the heated dining room. The support staff from IndiaTreks was also there. He guessed that the one sitting in the center would be team leader, and he was, Manish aged 34 had been an experienced trekker and now he was working with IndiaTreks as a trek leader for the first time. He gave him his room number, and also that dinner would be by 7PM when the local trek guide would also come to brief them. There was another trek leader who was more experienced, Rajmohan. Born and brought up in Garhwal, Uttranchal, he went around telling everyone that he had served in the army, but failed to mention the tiny detail of dishonorable discharge. He was a motivator, and consciously or unconsciously tried to inspire people by his courage. Some of the trekkers even knew him from their previous treks with IndiaTreks and held him in high regard. Accompanying both of them was also one of the office staff from IndiaTreks, Bharti a Punjabi girl, who not a hard boiled trekker per se, but had done medium level treks previously. IndiaTreks gave its office staff an opportunity to do any one of the treks for free, which ever they wanted and Bharti had chosen to come to this one, specifically this batch, the second out of the total six batches they were running that season. 

And then there were the trekkers, mostly from metro cities – Bangalore, Mumbai, Pune, Delhi and Calcutta. Mostly were engineers or service employees by their profession. Their job comes with a certain degree of pressure, and trekking proved a great outlet to relieve it. But there were few exceptions as well - Stalin a Landscape photographer and Ravi a professional Yoga master were also there with the group. Upon their introduction, the entire group asked them to give tips on their skills throughout the trek, to which Stalin wholeheartedly agreed but Ravi seemed a little disinterested. They all had dinner, which was their last proper three-course they would have for the next two weeks. Sweets and Desserts followed after the dinner. Everyone seemed anxious and filled with lots of doubts regarding the trek and even by quarter past seven, the local trek guide had not yet arrived.

Manish seemed a little worried and he asked Rajmohan to check. After all, Raj mohan was the only person who had talked on phone to the local trek lead, who went by the name Pasang, and had made all the arrangements. If he doesn’t turn up in time his credibility was at stake, as he had to manage his own crew of porters, cooks and helpers as well.

The trek that they all had come for was hailed by many as one of the most glamorous treks in the world. Zanskar River, a tributary of the might Indus River, which is famous for its rapids for rafting in summers months, freezes during the winter months between November to March. During that time since all road routes to Leh are closed, both from the Srinagar side as well as Kullu – Manali side, taking a flight becomes the only option. Then again, only few dare to brave the extreme cold where mercury drips more than twenty to thirty degrees below zero. Most people are satisfied seeing snow and frozen ponds in popular hill stations such as Shimla, Manali and Nainital. But again, those who dare to come here get to walk alongside the frozen river Zanskar, to see it being completely frozen and form a white carpet – called ‘Chadar’, to gushing at speed out of ice formations. Most of the trek guides and porters are local Zanskari people whose only way of access from their villages deep inside the Zanskar valley to civilization in Leh is that frozen river.

Three Hours Ago 

Pasang was moving fast for his age. He was moving fast even for the terrain and for the temperatures. But that had been his life. He had opened his eyes in this very terrain and he knew that one day it would get the better of it. One day there would be a landslide, an avalanche, or just a slip of feet, and it would all fade away, like the whiteness of the snow all around. He would be lucky even if his body was to be found, as not many of those who got lost ever came back, not even their bodies. However this is not what he wanted, he wanted to die peacefully, maybe sitting with some whiskey and if possible in the company of a woman. And that’s why he worked very hard, and kept running away from the warmth of his homes, from his village. He was a trekking guide and had his own small company which took trekking enthusiasts around Zanskar valley in the winter months, and around Markha valley and other regions of Ladakh. Business was getting better every year, foreign tourists had always been the major draw and slowly Indian tourists were also getting more and more interested in trekking around these regions. This was why he was walking briskly on the ice. It was close to four in the evening and he had to go meet a tour group of fifteen Indian trekkers in the evening by seven, brief them and get them started on the Chadar trek from tomorrow. He had partnered with IndiaTreks, a bigger trekking company who had got the bigger trekking group for him for a commission.
He was thinking - the ice trail of five kilometers will take him another forty-five minutes, then the drive to Ladakh was another one hour, picking up supplies, gathering the porters, cooks, and helpers for the trek easily took the rest of his time till seven o’ clock.

The valley took a sharp turn and presented a full expanse of white Chadar in front of him. The sun still up, it was quite blinding; Pasang fumbled his hand in his inner coat pocket for his sunglasses. Round and Prussian blue in shade, these sunglasses were one of his most treasured possessions. A Swedish woman had gifted them to him, almost ten years ago. He still remembered her, sometimes.  He was remembering her now again and those became his last thoughts. A bullet pierced his neck and came  out bursting a major artery. He lost his balance and headed straight to the edge of the river bank. Another bullet pierced his skull and he went straight into the water with it. No one was there for ten kilometers in every direction to hear the gunshot on either the splash.

40 minutes later that is Now!

It was thirty minutes past seven, when Pasang entered the dining room of the Panorama Hotel. He apologized to Rajmohan that he lost his mobile phone on his way from his village and got caught up searching for it. That’s why they were unable to reach him. He then addressed the trekking group, gave them a brief of the trek, the dos and don’ts, what to expect, necessary clothing and gear and one by one answered every doubt anyone had. He was experienced, having done for so many times, he was ready with the answers beforehand. Satisfied, the trekkers thanked him and went dreaming into sleep in their rooms. Pasang came out, felt the snow falling very softly on him, took out his lighter and lighted a cigarette. He took a puff and smiled. Everything was under control.