Last flight out of Ladakh: Chapter 7 - The Drowning

Last flight out of Ladakh: Chapter 7 - The Drowning

Prathap woke up with a sudden jolt. Or maybe he didn't wake up at all. Just his conscience telling him that there was a seething pain throughout his body, or the absence of it. He couldn't feel anything; his entire body was numb, frozen in a trance. Had anyone seen him in this stage they would have regarded him dead, being frozen in an ice slab waist below no man could survive a night in the open, when temperatures plummeted thirty degrees below zero. They would think that he has been dead for many weeks. Yet it had been only a little more than twenty four hours since the incident. And here he was, half frozen, the remaining half dying slowly and near death anytime.

A faint tune filled the still air around him, someone was whistling. It was an old folk song, one that told of the two regions – the frozen Chadar that was inhabited by spirits of the water, and the rocky valleys, the mountains to be inhabited by demons that hid in the caves and only came out to drag the unsuspecting passersby in. A song that old Zanskari women used to sing to their small grandchildren, who ignored it and played happily among both, the Chadar and the mountains. Before Prathap would gain conscious enough to pay any heed to the tune, it slowly faded away and was no more heard. A wooden stick struck the ice near where Prathap was lying. It struck the ice twice, and suddenly the thudding became more regular, soon the ice started shaking and it imploded on its own, but only around Prathap. The stick was promptly kept on the ice and two hands grabbed Prathap firmly and pushed him out of the ice in one strong pull. With the contact of surface to his legs he tried to stand but his legs were out of action far too long. His condition was severe, he needed immediate medical attention. All he could remember before falling back into the unconscious state was that he was leaving the ice and climbing the mountain, on the back of a pony.

12 hours later 

It was almost midnight when Prathap woke up. He was on a wooden bed, above layers and covered by several more. A warm liquid had been poured into his throat and by the taste of it he could guess it was chicken soup. A fire was burning some distance away below, someone sitting beside it. He was inside a house, a very warm house. After he had felt all this, his thoughts went to a flashback, over what had happened and how he had got here. He remembered waking up in the snow, the end of a tune, someone pulling him out and putting on a pony. He couldn't remember getting here but he thought this would be the house of that person. Then his thoughts went further backwards, over the incident a day ago. He remember that he and everyone had a very nice first day on the trek and had stopped for lunch near a part where the river was the widest and was flowing in the middle leaving huge Chadar on its edges, with breadth as much as a hockey field. They had been playing and cracking jokes at each other when he had absent mindedly thought of drinking fresh water from the river. Before anyone could stop him, he went straight to the Chadar’s edge and with a long plastic straw tried to drink the water. At that same instant the Chadar broke and the next instant Prathap had found himself in water. Before he could react and try to come up he had been pushed brutally in the waterflow and all he could find was Chadar over his head. And the water was like thousand needles pricked into his body at the same time, extracting all his life every second. His brain would black out soon with cold, his limbs paralyze, and he would die of could even before drowning would occur. And the Zanskar river in all its might was taken him away at a gushing speed.

It really happened to him, death like it happens in horror movies.

He was back in the room, alive. He reassured himself. No this was not a dream, not a post-death story line. This was a Zanskari house and he was very much alive. Just then the one sitting by the fireside got up and walked towards him. A wind of surprise and happiness swept over Prathap when he saw his face.

“Pasang!”, Prathap cried loudly, as much as he could.

“Yes sir it is me but not the way you know.” Pasang said and smiled. “Good that you are now awake, you should eat more I will bring some more soup” he added and went back to the kitchen.

Prathap felt happy, now that Pasang was here meant that his group was nearby and he can go back. To continue the trek or not was a question later.

20 kilometers away, Tibb camp

It had been a good third day trekking for everyone and they were excited that they would get to see Nerak fall the next day. Just like usual, an early lunch at seven, followed by milk had been served. Some of the spirited ones had played cards and dumb charades in their tents and were now fast asleep. Even Raj mohun was snoring in his tent. Pasang on the other hand was sitting outside on a wide rock staring at the moon. It was a full moon night that day and Chadar shown extra white in it. In the sky you could see the milky way and countless nebulaes and constellations. It was a spectacle, only very fortunate ones got to see it every now and then. He sensed someone coming out of his tent and showed his torch. Came a reply, “Pasang ji, Prathap here just going for loo”. “Don’t go very far” he replied back.