Footloose

For most of us losing mind is undesirable, involuntary, and more often than not, a cause for regret. It usually happens with the younger people more than with the senior lot which may be a rule, but definitely has exceptions. We don’t teach our children to lose their minds ever. On the contrary, our whole life goes into teaching them control. We appreciate it if they attempt to plan every small thing; even cutting the t’s and dotting the i’s. Some amount of orderliness is important but, we have embraced control so much that we are losing the spontaneity in life, and the worse part is that like a frog in a pan, we don’t mind being boiled to death. I have a small anecdote from my younger days when I was in my late twenties.  

Circa; December 1988. I was leaving the regiment for the first time on posting as AGE (Assistant Garrison Engineer) to a high-altitude area in the tribal belt of Kinnor in Himachal Pradesh.  Accompanied by my newly wedded wife I headed to Jutogh (Shimla) where the GE office was located. My boss was an MES cadre civilian officer who was a well-read man, calm, and composed but had little exposure to military men. Incidentally, his boss was an Army Colonel sitting at Chandigarh and now I too had joined as his immediate subordinate. Sandwiched between the demands and expectations from a boss and a subordinate donning olive green, his confusion was evident. Fortunately, I was to be stationed at Puh; almost 285 km away from him on a tricky mountainous road that remained blocked at one place or the other for six months in a year. This made it convenient for him to take his own sweet time to respond to issues I raised for making the defunct sub-division up on its feet.  What added to the misery was the fact that this place was so remote that the only military communication available was on the RR (Radio Relay) link between this place and the rest of the world. This RR link was opened twice a day during which time the signal operators tried to put through all the booked calls. Low priority people in the hierarchy of military establishments like me would often get to hear the operator apologetically telling how it was so impossible to get my call connected this session and how he would try to get it through the next day. For today’s generation spoilt for choices in the ever-expanding arena of communications, it is difficult to imagine the scenario then, but for me, it was so simple to remain blissfully cut off from human civilisation without making any efforts to hibernate.  

My life was turning out to be one big adventure right from day one; as I stepped into the shoes of AGE Puh. My area of responsibility extended from the lush green hamlet of Matiana comfortably sitting on a hilltop barely 45 km from Shimla to the barren landscape of Sumdo in the cold desert at 12000 feet altitude stretched almost 300 km away. While the stretch of the area of my responsibility was comparable to the one allotted to a military General, my assets and powers were minimal. All my assets at various intervening stations added up to some haunted Dak Bungalows fit to shoot the scariest of horror movies and a few clusters of Nissan Huts, locked up and waiting for their rightful heir to come and claim the ownership perhaps, after many birth cycles. My powers although, allowed me to travel unhindered. Well, no military authority needs to have hindered my movement when a very rugged and intimidating terrain was doing this job so effectively. On top of it, I did not have a dedicated jeep and the reason given to me for this step-motherly treatment was the fact that no previous AGEs had ever stayed at Puh for more than two months. As highly convincing as it may sound, I learned later that this was one major reason why nobody stayed here longer. All the previous incumbents, although they remained posted on papers for a usual 2 years tenure, never stayed here long enough to exercise any control on men and ongoing work. Finally, they discovered that no one other than the uniformed person will ever stay in such a difficult and remote station as Puh, so they found me; a true wanderer and a happy-go-lucky Engineer officer with barely 3 years of service and no ‘work’ experience.

I was truly a Sapper officer who believed as much in constructing assets as in demolishing them. No wonder people regretted when I was made the presiding officer to assess the worth of some of the delayed but under-construction projects in my jurisdiction. These were the projects that had commenced before I arrived on the scene. Noteworthy among them was an Operation Theatre Complex that involved civil work using modern (for those days) hollow blocks made of cement concrete. Ironically, as per the contract, the hollow blocks were to be cast in situ when there were no means to have adequate water for their curing, let alone proper grading of aggregate to ensure adequate crushing strength. The result was destined to be disastrous, and I was to learn that by earning the title of a ‘Demolition man’ a la Khairnar style albeit on a smaller scale.

After an embarrassing encounter with a visiting dignitary at the Sector HQ within a month of my arrival, when I was made to brief the VVIP on the features and progress of this prestigious project, I could not look at him in his eyes or even at the under-construction work that was executed so shabbily by my department. I was found to be a fit case to be given a good dressing down separately by the VVIP but I saw this as an opportunity to explain why things were in the state that they were in. Sensing this to be my only chance to redeem myself, I used up my complete understanding of last one month about what was wrong here and was perhaps able to turn the tables much to the embarrassment of local formation who had not flagged the issue earlier. My quiet demeanor but explosive revelations made everyone sit up and take note. The fallout of my briefing to the visiting dignitaries was that people in the local formation, as well as the MES setup, understood that I could not be let loose in front of visiting dignitaries unless they want to shake up the local formation, as well as the MES department.  When asked how to improve things I expressed that it would be too soon for me to say that now but razing the work done so far to the ground appears likely.

Later on, everyone became highly skeptical of my options and decisions especially after I evaluated the worth of this project in negative because for me it needed to be demolished before proceeding any further. No one thought I will put this officially on paper in the capacity of a presiding officer, so right from the CWE office in Chandimandir to my contractor Mr. Harmesh Chand Sood who was actually a better apple orchard owner got upset and they all decided to react in their own manner wrongly targeting me. So, the CWE office ordered a Court of Inquiry and decided to ask me, some supposedly uncomfortable questions, while I was only the whistleblower. The munshi ji of the contractor decided to test my crushing strength instead of those crumbling hollow blocks by trying to drop a 50 kg bag of cement on my head while I was passing through the undulating ground on his construction site. Well, that is not the story I wish to recount today, but certainly, these descriptions would give my readers some insight into the prevailing situation that I was working in.

Being part of the MES setup, the Sector HQ treated me with disdain yet wanted to exercise full right over the resources under my charge. I was someone who was supposed to replace their broken glass panes, toilet seats and make good all other damages without raising Barrack damages. I was also expected to gift them cement bags, steel bars, paints, and electric bulbs during their inspections and visits of VVIPs. My largess was not expected to be limited to the availability of stores in my stock but I was expected to reimburse their such like expenditure which they might have undertaken without checking back with me first. Despite a clear understanding of my own responsibilities in this regard, I was helpless because of my own staff. I came to know that my staff wanted to be in the good books of various unit QM JCOs and had been obliging them in a similar manner. In return, we were assured that we will not suffer for lack of fuel for heating/ warming purposes and some diesel for the generators, and a vintage TMB vehicle that served us as a lifeline. This was a quid pro quo if not outright blackmail because we were authorised each of these things to survive in this high-altitude area and denying this to us on the pretext of shortage was uncalled for. This arrangement was going on for ages and was an accepted norm so my being difficult did not help anyone.

Having failed to stop this pilferage of resources, I decided to make it more meaningful. I extended these gifts to people sitting away from the sector HQ in far more remote areas where life was really difficult. I made it a point to keep a carton full of electric bulbs, door handles, hinges, and some such items in my jeep while traveling out of the sector HQ. These items were of small value but useful in keeping the inmates a little bit more comfortable at these isolated locations especially, whenever the weather God decided to match the savagery of the terrain, which was quite often. Soon my popularity grew inversely proportional to the bad name that I was making within the power centers to be in the higher headquarters. My jeep was getting recognized faster and from a distance as compared to the jeeps of many senior and more powerful military officers traversing the highway up and down

*****.

Approximately 10 km short of Puh, there is a temple of Goddess Durga, who for some strange reason is known as Shrimati Dhang. More than a deity, the temple is a symbol of human reverence to mother nature which gets pronounced during adverse and challenging conditions. A brief look at the texture of the rocks that have been cut to make the road will be enough to understand what would have resulted in the consolidation of faith of Border Road workers working on the project. 

The unwritten rule that everyone followed was to stop at this temple and pay obeisance, irrespective of the direction one is traveling or however late one might be running. The temple was nothing but a small cave that the BRTF (Border Road Task Force) persons appear to have discovered while blasting off the mountains to cut through along the road alignment. Indians generally are very amiable in accepting such dictates which is more about their inherent trusting nature than anything else. I too followed this rule and took a break at Shrimati Dhang to take the blessings of the deity along with a few pieces of sugar candy handed over by the pujari ji (priest) as prasad. As the deity was placed inside a small dark rocky cave well above the road surface, I found the ambiance to be very dark, especially for the Pujari ji who sat there the whole day offering prasad to every visitor after applying a small dot of vermilion on their glabellas. There was a small electric bulb on a holder hanging from a rocky outcrop inside the cave which was largely ineffective; firstly because of the very low wattage bulb and secondly, due to a very uneven and rocky surface inside the cave. The difference was more pronounced to the visitors who would not be accustomed to the low ambient light inside the cave. So, one day when I found the Pujari ji slightly free, I asked him if there is something that I could do for him to make his life a little more comfortable here in this wilderness. “I don’t need anything captain sahab, Ma Durga takes care of everything” was all he said cheerfully. I then went back to the jeep and searched for a 100-watt bulb and replaced it with the weak 40-watt bulb that was there. The effect was clearly visible and I could see Pujari ji’s peaceful smile lighting up his face better. He folded his hands to thank me and I told him not to mention but feel free to tell me if there was anything that could make things better here.

After this, Shrimati Dhang Durga Mandir was included in my list of beneficiaries for small goodies that were distributed from my kitty regularly. That day onwards, whenever I stopped here to pay my respect to the deity, I felt good and important because the humble Pujari ji always flashed his endearing smile finding me in front of him. In about a year, I had many such small halts that made me feel important and good about myself although what I did was very insignificant and, in some cases, only symbolic. I did not realise it then, but it was my desire to feel important that prompted me to do all this because I was at the receiving end in my usual work environment and outside such small deeds make me look good in my own eyes and kept my ego inflated.

*****

It was 25 December 1990 and we all were busy making merry. This year it had been very clear weather so far. My annual leave had already started but some friends stopped me for just one more day so that we could enjoy the Christmas party. Actually, it was just a pretext to party after which I had decided to leave early morning on the next day. By now I had been in this sector long enough to be well organised with a dedicated jeep at my disposal. I was confident that if I started early, I would reach Shimla by evening itself. I had done it in 8.5 hours flat on many occasions previously. The next day I could be in Delhi to board the train for my hometown Jabalpur. It was special this time as I was looking forward to becoming a Dad for the very first time. My wife was already there and the EDD (Expected date of delivery) was in the early second week of January. I had saved my full 60 days of annual leave so that I could spend enough time at home and see my child grow. Everything fitted perfectly and as my tenure was also coming to an end here, I expected to get a peace posting anytime in March or April where my wife with our first child could also join.

As the party progressed, we warmed up to the aroma of Brandy with hot water sitting cozy in front of the razing bukharis. After the sumptuous dinner was over, we stepped out of the officers’ Mess to be greeted by tiny specks of snow dancing away merrily in the ambient light of a nearby street light. It was a pretty view to die for, but seeing this my heart sank. I knew that the long-awaited snowfall has begun just now. Why could it not wait for another one day? I was apprehending how this beautiful romantic dance of snowflakes can engulf everything making it impossible for any movement for a few days at the least. That night I could not sleep properly fearing the worse for my move back to Shimla. I don’t remember when I dozed off but when I woke up it was still not daylight. I rushed out to check how is the weather but missed my heartbeat when I saw what was outside. It was still snowing heavily. If a heavy rain can be described as ‘Raining Cats and Dogs’ it was ‘Snowing Elephants and Rhinos’. There was no way I could take the jeep out on the road now, not if it carried on like this even for the next six hours. However, if the snowfall stopped now; the fresh snow would quickly melt away and I could still escape.

Much against my liking and prayers, the snowfall did not stop. If anything, it picked up pace and intensity and in no time covered every inch of visible ground and mountain slopes with a thick blanket of fluffy snow. The snowfall continued unabated for the next 48 hours diminishing all my options to leave Puh. I was stranded here conclusively and indefinitely. The weather grew so bad that even the RR link also broke down because the batteries were not able to hold enough charge in sub-zero temperatures.

It was 27 December when the snowfall finally stopped. In fact, even the Sun God also came out to shine briefly. This wasn’t a good sign because intermittent sunshine between snowfall results in more landslides. Strange as it may appear, sunshine solidifies the snow and subsequent snowfalls makes for different density layers of snow piles. As the layers are not homogeneous it slides off at the slightest of disturbances.

There was obviously no inputs about the current road status for it was too early in the day after the snowfall stopped. One could get to know about the road status only after the BRTF (Border Road Task Force) started removing the snow from the road surfaces. 

I knew I had to get out of here before the snow started melting leading to a series of landslides. The only way to do it was to start walking. I was 300 km away from Shimla and I did not know how much will I be required to walk? Till where I will be able to walk? What if, I get stuck in a landslide and another landslide behind me traps me? What if I get hit by falling debris and stones while negotiating a damaged site? What if I slip and fall in the valley not being able to make out the edge of the road due to accumulated snow? There were so many what-ifs and I had no answers to any of these. I could either stay on at Puh and wait for the road to open completely, which could take up to 2 weeks or move out on foot however insane it may be. No, I did not want to miss out on being there to welcome my first child, so the matter was settled. I was moving out on foot, now and as soon as it was possible for me to do so.

I called my S K T (store keeper technical) and asked him to give me an additional pair of snow socks from ECC Clothing (Extra Cold Climate Clothing) which is authorised to all soldiers who are deployed in the high-altitude and snowbound areas. I did not want to be walking with wet socks because it was almost 3 to 4 feet of snow on the road. He came to me on the pretext of handing over a pair of snow socks but was armed with a bit of advice to not venture out now. He relented after seeing my resolve, and then casually informed me that there was one more person in our office who was as desperate as I was to go home. Really? Who is he? I wanted to know. It was our chowkidar Sai Ram. His daughter is due to deliver her first child and he had to be in a small village in Rampur Busshahr. I was happy and amused because I found him ready to walk off with his backpack immaculately dressed up in coat parka and snow boots with anklets. He also had a pair of sticks to prod and walk through 3 to 4 feet of snow. The sight of this 50-year-old chowkidar, so charged up to be with his daughter for her first childbirth made me firm my resolve and then we decided to hit it off the road immediately. In case something happened to one of us, at least the second person will be able to help or seek help if things went out of control.

I knew walking in mountains is exhausting even along perfectly laid out roads because of the steep gradient but I was not prepared for the experience of walking on mountain roads covered with 3 to 4 feet of snow and eerie wind blowing through my ears reminding me that despite having each other’s company we were alone and on our own with no one to look for miles and miles on either side. Normally we are attuned to walking on one side of the road and prepared to give enough space for some vehicle coming from the front or from behind. This was undesirable now because there was no vehicular movement on the road whatsoever but huge snowfall has falsely increased the road width that needed to be avoided stepping on. Also, because the road and the curbside were completely covered with snow even the damaged sections that may have been washed off due to landslides, there were chances that we may step on it and go down hundreds of feet within seconds. Now walking very close to the hillside was also dangerous, because from there it was not possible to see any active landslides that may definitely knock you down if you are not careful. So, we were walking somewhere in the middle of the road with a pair of sticks in both hands prodding to see if it is ok to take the next step ignoring the undue concerns emanating from our minds that are not accustomed to letting us walk in the middle of the road. All this while our eyes were fixed at the hillside ahead of us to see if there is any movement of rocks, slush, or rolling stones. All this became trickier every time we had to move along a right-hand curve as the view on the hillside got blocked. Besides physical and mental strain we were also dealing with the cognitive dissonance of walking in the center of the road against which our minds were trained over the years.

When we thought it was eternity since we had started walking in the morning from Puh, we sat down on a small rock astride the road after removing the snow from its top surface. We took out our packed meal of parathas and scrambled egg that we had kept for supper because we had eaten enough before walking off at almost 11 am this morning. But we were famished; our wristwatch showed that it wasn’t even three hours of walking since morning and we had barely covered 6 or 7 km.  In no time our food had been gobbled yet we did not feel satiated, such was our hunger. My back was strained and the belt of my backpack had rubbed some skin off from my shoulders and it stung. We quickly adjusted our loads and started with many nagging worries about our dismal progress on the road. It was evident that at this rate, we would not reach someplace fit for staying overnight before the last light dwindled.

For the next two to three hours, we walked in silence without stopping and throwing all caution to winds. Despite the sub-zero temperature outside, I could feel the sweat trickling down my neck and wetting my body warmer vest at many places. There was no light at the end of the tunnel instead it felt like we were walking inside one endless tunnel with ambient light receding very fast. It started dawning on us that perhaps we had overestimated our enthusiasm which had overtaken our better sense of judgment. Going back was obviously not an option, yet it was necessary to soon find a place where we could tuck in for the night without freezing to death. We were completely drained, physically and emotionally unsecured, and terribly hungry once again. We knew that we might survive hunger but certainly not the cold if left to spend the night in the open. It was already getting dark and no habitation was visible from where we were. It is then we heard a temple bell somewhere close by.

*****

We were in front of Shrimati Dhang Durga temple and it was completely deserted here. This place was always bustling with people and was never without many big and small vehicles parked along the roadside but today it was different. There was no one to be seen or heard. As we climbed the steps of the cave, the familiar smell of burning incense and camphor reassured us. Inside the cave, pujari ji was preparing to close it down for the day as no one was expected to come. The sound of temple bells that we heard a short while ago was indeed part of the evening prayers after which the deity was to retreat and so was pujari ji. If he was surprised to see us at such an unexpected time, he did not show it. He looked at us and greeted us with his familiar smile. “Where are you two headed in such bad weather?” he asked matter-of-factly. We smiled back as our confidence bounced back when he in his unharried manner offered us a few pieces of sugar candy as prasad after blessing us with a tikka on our foreheads. He then asked us if we would like to have tea. Yes…yes…yes. We were screaming inside but outwardly we just nodded in affirmation. How could we refuse a hot refreshing cup of tea when we were so cold and tired and out of our wits. Pujari ji then pulled out a small stove from somewhere and prepared the magical brew that infused us with raw energy and revitalized us. We felt completely new and full of life. As we requested for some water to wash the glasses that we had used up for tea, he asked again, more politely this time than ever. “Would you like to have some Dal Chawal?”. It was not a question that needed an answer. We were speechless and did not know what good we had done in the past to be taken care of like this?

I am positive, I had never tasted such heavenly Dal-Chawal ever in my life. Hot piping Dal-Chawal with a spoon full of desi ghee filled the cave with a rich aroma and reached deeper than our hungry stomachs. It somewhere touched our souls. I was suddenly aware of the vanity in seeing myself as such an important person who would sometimes stop and dole out an electric bulb to the pujari ji of this deity and other isolated posts en route. I then knew it was compassion to your fellow men that was more important than being able to gift goodies here and there.

That spell of physical journey lasted for 11 days and when I reached Jabalpur my son Kaurik was already born. The internal journey to feel compassion for lesser-known people continues making me a wanderer and Footloose in the real sense of the word. I am grateful to everyone including the innate physical things that contributed to helping me lose my mind and undertake the insane option of walking into the unknown, unfathomed, and unexpected journey that continues to date.

Picture Credit Google