Monday 24 February 2014

Four Rivers - The germ of an idea.




Part1 Introduction

There's a collection of travelogues by Ruskin Bond called 'Tales of the open road.' It is as delectable as his other works but what interests me in this book is his numerous trips through real India. Most of them in the Indian state of Uttarakhand where he has spent  his life in the lap of Himalayas. In one of the essays he describes this particular 'trail' of following the four major rivers of the state. 
Uttarakhand is basically a crisscross of Himalayan mountains and rivers. Out of this, all small or big rivers in the end merge to form the Ganges, before it leaves the state for the plains. The only exception is Yamuna. Ruskin Bond on this trail, travelled along these rivers, namely the Alakhnanda, the Mandakini, the Bhagirathi (all coming together to form the Ganges) and the Yamuna. He travelled along them to reach their source. All of them have their distinctive valleys, formed either by the submission of the mountain or the river.
This reading pepped me up to follow these four rivers and experience this unique, interdependent, informal, uncanny, eerie relationship between the Himalayas and it's rivers. I have to admit this also expanded the scope of my thoughts about the Himalayas. I started to also take them in context of their surroundings, namely the rivers, trees and even the living beings in their shadow. Earlier, mostly on my treks, I had been very subjective about the Himalayas. It was all about what they meant to me and in some minuscule way what I meant to them. The awe and respect they inspired in me, the humility they taught me; and the love I had for them. It was all very personal and private till now.

It was as usual, Sudha who was my partner in crime. We booked our trip with GMVNL, a branch of the state tourism who organises the transport and accommodation in this state of extremely remote destinations and difficult travel conditions. The state of Uttarakhand is on the border of India and Autonomous region of Tibet. Till the start of 1960 there was hardly any road network here to talk of. The place was as remote as end of the world with travellers crossing steep ravines and deep gorges all as an adventure either to reach a mountain peak, a pass or on a pilgrimage. Albeit even in the absence of motorable roads this state was full of walkways and paths trampled by millions of pilgrims from time immemorial to reach the numerous Hindu shrines the state is sprinkled with. Then there were the famous English Sahibs like Jim Corbett in Kumaon who used to move on foot getting rid of man-eaters or 'Pahari' Wilson who's horse's hooves are still heard on the bridge he helped built in Harsil. Then there were the daredevil surveyors of the East India Company who lived on the edge,literally and carried out the unending and crucial job of surveying and mapping the most inaccessible parts of India. This was a world of mystique and legends where very few ventured. They had to be mad adventurers or religious zealots, such were the demanding conditions of the place.
It all changed during the 1962 India-China war. The absence of a road network proved extremely disastrous as no basic support could be provided to the defence forces on the border. Even their movement till the frontiers had become difficult. Hence after 1962 there was a scurry in developing the infrastructure within the state. The Border Roads Organisation or the BRO as it is more commonly called was formed. And since it's inception the BRO has executed the job of making even the remotest corner on a steep cliff of an Himalayan peak accessible if it is strategically important for the country. The life and struggles of a BRO officer, the permanent presence of adventure and difficulties, the working itself of the organisation is a subject less explored. Shouldn't it be a study for nationalists and humanitarians? I wonder.
Coming back on the road to be travelled, the above background information was necessary to establish the story of today's tourism here. During the days of pathways and walkways and long treks on them, the British had built a network of rest houses at intervals for their Sahibs. Post Independence these were taken over by the state government tourism department who maintain them now. They are in such remote parts on various treks that one is amazed. Thus here even the most arduous and tough treks are tea house treks, i.e minus tents and with basic living conditions. At the end of the day's stretch one reaches the comforts of a rest house with a chowkidar! What bliss! With all the old world charm! Ofcourse there are trekkers who prefer tents,but I would take my tea-house trek anytime.  On the basis of these and the intricate road network the state government tourism department, the GMVNL is the best bet to organise and guide through the travels and treks here. Thus having ticked out the main thing on the list,we started our trip from Delhi.
I usually follow this plan of spending a day in Delhi before every trek. All the Himalayan trekking base camps whether in Garhwal or Kumaon or Himachal have a train,road,air connection through Delhi. I prefer to benefit by this situation by taking an early morning flight to Delhi where if one reaches by nine, the whole day opens up before me to explore my favourite historic city- the city of ruins. I then take the conveniently scheduled night trains to my trekking base camp destination thus avoiding spending a night in the infamously unsafe Delhi for girls. This time Sudha and I had decided to honour Sultan Feroz Shah to be our host. The reason being this master builder had in his time discovered and placed Emperor Ashoka's 250 B.C.E sandstone pillar in his fort-palace in Delhi. This pillar glows and gives the illusion of being made of gold. And how much did I wanted to witness this spectacle! But alas! It was the month of July and hence Delhi was sitting comfortably under a blanket of dark clouds. The pillar glows only in bright sunlight. We still visited it, remarked on the ancient 'Brahmi' script. After spending an relaxing afternoon on the beautifully maintained green lawns in the premises and an even more fun evening at Connaught place we were ready to board the Mussorie Express which would take us to Haridwar, the foothills of Himalayas in the morning. Here starts this trip- where I discovered not only the different traits of nature but myself too! As always the external exploration coinciding with the internal discoveries.

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