Thus a small trek in the Nainital forests becomes a "battle against survival", a trip to Kedarnath becomes "playing at God's footsteps", a trek to Vaishno Devi becomes "a miracle story", and a hired-taxi ride to Rohtang Pass wearing ridiculous astronaut suits becomes the last word in adventure for a huge chunk of populace - the only thing bigger than this is when you also hire those unimaginative wooden sledges at Rohtang Pass, pushed by skinny Nepalis, who take your picture then push you off the snowy/muddy slope at the guarantee of a harmless slow descent. That's one up on life!
The nature of the unexplored is that with time it achieves an epic status. The more that people vaguely talk about it, the more you feel needs to be talked about it. And then everybody starts talking about it, like that would make things any better or easier. We spend more time planning stuff, and even more time obsessing about how we had planned it - the whole kick lies in boasting to your contemporaries how well planned you are, as if you're awaiting a honorary PhD on that topic. Talking about it becomes the new fad, though the 'doing' part is also appreciated sometimes. The time, or grace of the 'doing' part is lost in this mess of words, and the anxiety to see everything in place. That has become the case with Leh.
I remember my Leh trip with Deepak, which went like:
At (New) Manali bus depot: "Hey, so we missed today's bus to Leh. Let's spend a day loitering about in Manali."
At our guest house in Manali: "We can rent bikes, y'know."
Back at the bus depot: "Hmmm... bikes..."
Next hour had tracked Raju cycle guy, checking out the bikes, and repeatedly glancing at each other.
Next day we were on the saddle - me experiencing the miracle of 8 cramps in parallel, Deepak running with tissue paper into the forest cover - us reaching Golaba soaked in rain, yet loving every part of it.
The next seven days were spent in similar misadventures. Living out of a picaresque novel and impressing numerous soul-searching girls and humanity-hating truck drivers along the way.
But now the situation is inverted. You have everybody talking about Leh. A few still do it. And those few doing it will plan for months, train for years, arrange for such contingencies as if they had to settle down for life midway at ZingZing Bar or Whiskey Nullah; then maybe make babies too, and arrange for their education at least uptil the primary standard. They give birth to words like "unworldly" to, ironically, describe their own challenge at making things seem possible and "worldly". Every mountain top capped with ice becomes a "holy sight". Every distant light becomes the "guiding beacon". Four hours of cycling, and its a "fight to live" (they forget the pickup vehicle right behind them). I believe every dump they must be taking would be "emanating with the virtues of Himalayan pulchritude" as well.
It's obvious somebody wants to make things difficult here, to bloat up the dimensions of their trifling personal achievement. Cyclists are a selfish bunch. In fact, any sort of journey dominated personally - one that you can attach your personality to (as opposed to a journey dominated by decisions and will of a collective) - will likely come out sounding like somebody saving a child from 40th floor of a building under fire.
Who's gonna be the one telling the newly-initiated to just go out there and do it, now that its all the more easier?
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1 comment:
Our next to Sangla went pretty much like this. ISBT, bus missed (ofcourse because Vibhu is always late) no valley of flowers just last bus to Shimla :)
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