Tsongmo Lake: Sikkim Diaries

Having visited Gurudongmar Lake at 17100 feet, anyone would think Lake Tsongmo would be a piece of cake. At least, we did. And we were wrong.

Road to Tsongmo Lake. Piece of cake.

Tsongmo Lake is around 40 kms from Gangtok, and stands at a proud 12,400 feet above sea level. The road is treacherous, and that is if you can call that a road at all. Frequent mudslides in recent times have caused the road to be really bumpy, and if it rains even slightly, it gets muddier than a mud hill.

That said, almost all drivers there are experts at navigating this road; they know each nook and cranny, and they know each bump and turn. So fear not if you are not able to view the road because a huge cloud decided to make its presence known just then - the driver will just race into and past the cloud without blinking an eyelid.

Anyway, finally, we were there, we had our rubber boots on, and we were making the tricky little climb up the slope from the parking lot to the lake when, suddenly, our nostrils were assaulted with a strong, overwhelming smell of poop.

"I just pooped all over this place. Hope that's okay."

The next minute we were face to face with the yaks. The yaks are there duly earning their daily bread and studiously pooping it all back. For a few hundred rupees you can have a yak carry you around the lake and get you back to where you started. Unless you're a raging lazybones who is simply not bothered to make the 1km walk, I wouldn't recommend riding the yak - firstly, you won't be able to enjoy the view of the lake because you're holding on tightly to the yak and trying not to fall; secondly, the yak smells so bad that you frankly can't wait to get the ride over with.

Pictured: Heaven.

We stepped gingerly onto the snow; the first few yards the snow was completely brown in color, and by this point I am sure you know the reason why. I was reminded of Calvin somehow - maybe because brown snow is just the kind of thing he loves.

Slowly, slowly, as we made our way up towards the lake we could see the pristine landscape taking shape.Oh, it is beautiful! The stark black and white landscape, coupled with the crowd in their colorful sweaters screaming with excitement made for a really pretty setting.We spent a lot of time throwing snowballs at each other, sliding in the snow, and basically acting like children.

Everyone had this huge patch of wet on the back of their pants - the result of trying to slide down. Aw hell, we didn't mind! The only thing we minded were our wet gloves which we heedlessly used to make our snowballs - they didn't dry for several hours.

After a couple of hours of crazy time we came back, returned the rubber boots, and sat down for some yummy wai wai noodles. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

No wait, we then went to the Institute of Tibetology, and were looking at books at their in-house store when the lady in charge told us there was a huge snake loitering inside somewhere, and would we please keep an eye on our legs from time to time. But that's another story for another day.

Pig hooey!

Is George Orwell's Animal Farm coming true or what!

Pigs are apparently causing havoc in a Chennai neighborhood - they've chosen a cozy vacant lot that belongs to the government (ha!) and started breeding like rabbits. Right now their number is about 50-odd, and they come out in a herd during the evenings and terrorize the residents. 50 pigs running around in the street, oinking all over the place... yes, reason enough to run for cover.

The town I grew up in boasted of many stray pigs strolling around like they owned the place, but never has anyone been afraid of them! These mutant monster pigs have reached a point where they're attacking stray dogs (!) and biting golfers, and the question we need to ask ourselves is, what next? Chickens flying around pooping on our heads?! :-|

What the hell is happening?!

Gurudongmar Lake: Sikkim Diaries

To put it quite bluntly, Gurudongmar Lake is the Big Daddy of all lakes.

It stands on a really cool altitude of 17100 feet, a feat very few other lakes can boast of. It is considered sacred, so people cannot really go and take baths and do other unspeakable things that the other lakes have to endure. Oh, and yeah, you can't find any kind of vegetation around the lake; not a single plant, not a single bush. The land there is as barren as a slate. It is all mud and stones, my friend. Plus the occasional block of muddy ice.

The Journey
The road from Lachen to Gurudongmar is like an ever winding coil of rope, and the Avomin tablets weren't helping; within an hour into our journey I started retching violently and puked my guts out. This delightful episode repeated itself a couple of times, and thankfully, as a result, I went into a weakness-induced sleep that I did not come out of till we reached the lake.

We were mid-way when the driver told us that if I felt any worse we were to turn back; the pukes could be the result of me not being able to adjust to the altitude. He grimly pointed out that first-aid options at the Lake would be minimal, and if any of us had even a headache, we were to turn back immediately or it would get real risky, real soon.

The Lake
The lake is pure awesomeness. You could sit there for ages, just marveling at the picture before you - a perfectly blue, cloudless sky (the clouds are all around you), a beautiful frozen lake, snow covered peaks, and the utter serenity of the place renders you almost speechless. We didn't have much time though - barely enough to glance around and take it all in, and yes, just enough to click a couple of pictures.

The army
Within no time at all we were on our way back, and I had to fight the urge to wave to the army guys as we passed. It was a new found respect I had for the army - braving such adverse weather conditions away from their families... not easy! Not to mention the Chinese border sitting prettily just about 3 kms away - as if the bitter cold and the scarce Oxygen weren't enough.

Getting there
We had to submit 4 passport photographs, along with our ID proofs and address proofs to get a permit to reach the lake. The army divisions there have strict rules about this, and a vehicle cannot pass beyond their checkpoint if the travelers are not prepared with these beforehand.

I can go on and on about this, but I see that this has become quite a lengthy post already.

Lachen: Sikkim Diaries

Our first destination after Gangtok.

Lachen is bitterly cold. From the minute I set foot in that place the mind-numbing cold was the only thing I was aware of. We settled in our hotel and, after we freshened up (another word for piling on extra layers of sweaters), went out for an evening walk. The walk was to get us acclimatized to the high altitude - we were standing at an altitude of roughly 9800 feet.

So, we started on our little walk, and within a short distance came to a shop. We could hear little cries of, "Tourists are here! Tourists!", as if we had come from another country, pockets jingling with gold coins. We bargained hotly for a pair of mufflers and woolen gloves but the kind lady in the shop did not budge even a little bit. She obviously knew when a person was desperate. We paid the asking price and walked away, tails between our legs.

Lachen is the stop for all Gurudongmar Lake aspirants. We left Lachen at 5AM the next morning. I cannot recall the journey from Lachen to Gurudongmar very much - I had a bad case of the vomits. (Thank you, Kolkata airport Subway!) After getting back from Gurudongmar Lake we rushed out of Lachen as fast as we possibly could, and headed for Lachung.

How else is Lachen historical, you ask? Well my friend, Lachen will forever go down in history as the place that made me long for the unbearable heat of Hyderabad.

The Sikkim Diaries

The taxi was waiting for us even as we got out of Bagdogra airport - within a span of a couple of minutes the driver had whisked our luggage into the Qualis and started at full speed towards Gangtok, our first stop.

Somehow, when we decided on this trip, the matter of mountainous roads and motion sickness escaped my notice. In my naivety, I asked the driver some time after the ghat road started - "Bhaiyya, ye ghat road kab khatam hoga?" He looked at me with some amusement and replied that the road is going to stay this way for the reminder of the trip. My heart sank a little.

Luckily for me our friends had a never ending supply of Avomin.

And so our trip started. We had signed on for a tour of North Sikkim, and our tour guide, Mr. Deepak Rai of Omega tours did not disappoint. The entire tour might become one lengthy post if I write down everything here, so I've decided to break it down into parts -


Lachen

Gurudongmar Lake

Lachung

Tsongmo Lake

Gangtok

If you would like to have specific details about cost, or the contact details of the tour operator, you can contact me or leave a comment on this post.

The Calcutta Diaries

Calcutta has always high on my travel to-do list, and by the time I finally got around to visiting it, it was Calcutta no more.

The first thing I noticed after reaching the city is the hospitality - we received a warm welcome from the groom's uncle (we were there for a friend's wedding), and the moment my husband responded to his welcome in Bengali, he stopped trying to communicate in Hindi and turned on Bengali, full on. I nodded my head vigorously to everything he said, trying to understand the language through my knowledge of Oriya.

There was a vehicle waiting for us, and we started for the hotel. The part of the city near Dum Dum airport has got an old world feel to it and the word that stuck in my mind was laid-back. The city made me want to sit back and be lazy. Nothing of this kind can be found in the peoples' actions, though - the driver was dashing ahead at a breakneck speed and I wondered how our hosts could sit placidly and look so nonchalant. I clutched onto the nearest handle, hoping we'd reach the hotel soon.

Coffee was served to us in little earthen jars that instantly reminded me of mishti doi and rosogullas. Uncle ji took us out for lunch at a nearby restaurant. I opted for a vegetarian thali; my husband needed only a little prodding to take the fish thali which he pronounced was absolutely delicious. Veg thali had an assortment of tasty stuff - dal, rice, potol posto (yummy!!), drumsticks in gravy (don't know the Bengali name for this), sweet pineapple chutney (again, don't know the Bengali name), and, finally, rosogullas. What a fitting end to our meal! Rosogullas! Just the name is enough :P

Soon friends from Bangalore, and other parts of Calcutta began to arrive, and when the group was complete we decided to take the Metro to Esplanade station. I had heard enough about New Market from my friends back in Hyderabad that I was adamant I would visit that place. I had visions of myself with lots of shopping bags and a contented expression, but unfortunately, New Market fell short for me. Whether it was the time constraint, or whether I didn't like the goods, I cannot tell. Within a short time of us reaching New Market we started for Free School Street where we checked out the second hand bookstores and walked around the block till our legs gave out.

The Kolkata Metro deserves a special mention - the sheer speed of the trains, the crowds, the short stops of 10 seconds at each station... I have no clue if Hyderabad will ever be able to reach that level of perfect rhythm. I loved it all, and I would love to visit again, if I could.

We did not visit all the places we should have - we were there, after all, for a wedding. We left the next morning for Bagdogra, and from there, on to Gangtok for our Sikkim trip.

Blame it on the weather

Summer - Such a warm and drowsy afternoon, the weather's making me really sleepy.
Monsoon - It's so cloudy and wet and gloomy, I feel like sleeping for a while just to get rid of the dullness that's enveloping me.
Winter - God, it's so cold and cozy, I just wish I could curl up in a nice blanket and go to sleep!

I realized a bit late that seasons change, but for me, sleep is constant.

No Man's Land

Even terrorist attacks do not have this kind of magnitude. A magnitude that is baffling, to say the least.

1993 Mumbai attacks - 257 killed
2006 Mumbai train attacks - 209 killed
2008 Taj attacks - 173 killed
Number of people killed due to the Ayodhya land dispute - a whopping 2000.

History tells us Babri Masjid was built in Ayodhya after Babar defeated the Hindu king and took over his kingdom, and Hindu groups claim there used to be a Ram temple at the same spot. People, we were not even a speck of dust when all of this happened! I understand Ayodhya is a holy place for Hindus, but let us face it, the Mughal kings destroyed lots of temples. It wouldn't be feasible for us to cry foul now, would it?

Back in 1885 when a certain Mahant Raghubar Ram moved the court to build a temple at the site, Judge Col. F.E.A. Chamier ruled as follows,

"....It is most unfortunate that a Masjid should have been built on land specially held sacred by the Hindus, but as that event occurred 356 years ago, it is too late now to agree with the grievances. ..." (Source - WIKI)

So why hurt the sentiments of a group which had nothing to do with the original sin? I really do not understand the fanaticism behind a piece of land. Will a God come down and heap praises on you if you kill fellow men in His name? No, you just go to jail, you morons! I might be treading on blasphemous waters here, there might have been a temple, a mosque, but hey - in the end it is a piece of land. Of course, I will not deny that there is a teeny tiny part of my Hindu upbringing that is curious about the outcome, but it is not earth shattering. If anything I am worried about how the verdict is going to affect everyday life; it is just noon in the office and we are shutting down shop already, precautionary measures in place.

Where there is something to gain, our politicians are not far behind. BJP and VHP took advantage of the sensitive site and demolished the mosque in 1992, thus winning the elections. Today on the 30th of September, 2010, the verdict on who the land belongs to is finally going to be out - and I am strongly for the court declaring the Babri Masjid site to be "No Man's Land". Like a colleague suggested, perhaps it could be converted into a tourist spot. "People, so this is that piece of land due to which 2000 people are dead."

And no, they can never come back.

We are a secular country; two of my closest friends are Muslim and Christian, and never ever, ever, has religion come between us. It is unthinkable. Folks, I really hope you do not lose your cool and lose friends for the sake of land that you might never even see in your lifetime. A piece of land that couldn't care less about who was standing on it. And if today Lord Ram and Prophet Mohammed were alive, I am sure they would've said the same thing.

Like Bill Maher said -

"We are a nation that is unenlightened because of religion. I do believe that. I think religion stops people from thinking. I think it justifies crazies."

A Quaking Story

Date: December 26, 2004. Time: Crack of Dawn. Place: Ancient city of Cuttack.

"Stop shaking the bed! Stop it!"

"Me shaking the bed? What the heck is wrong with you, you stop shaking it first!"

Both of us were wide awake in an instant - me staring at the ceiling in awe expecting it to crash at any moment, and my Mom yelling for my Dad. He had returned from an early morning walk and fallen asleep in the hallway again.

"Daaaa-dddd-iieee! There's an earthquake happening!"

He opened his eyes briefly, mumbled, "Eh?" and started snoring.

A piercing scream from the guest room - my aunt was huddled up on the bed in a fetal position, mumbling about her dead mother-in-law.

"Maa-ji, mujhe akele chod di jiye, please! Bed ko aise mat hilaaiye! Aiiieeeee, bachaaao!" The bed was trembling as if it's life depended on it.

"Idiot, it's not a ghost, it's a quake. Get the hell out of the house!"

We ran out, hearts thudding.

Scene inside the house on the other side of the street -

Manisha Manjari AKA Mamuni, our pretty neighbor was asleep with a smile on her face, dreaming about her upcoming wedding. She was alone in the house with her mother - her Dad and brother were in different cities at the time.

It was pitch dark; they slept with every light off, and had no idea what time of the night it was. Mamuni sat up with a start. The bed was shaking violently, carrying promises of a vicious fiend underneath. Mamuni had an active imagination and imagined the worst. One leg on the bed, and another on the wall, she managed a sprint that only Olympic standard athletes could have managed.

Out in the hall in two beats, she had just begun to wring her hands to cry when she stopped, shell-shocked. A figure was propped up against the door, a frightening silhouette, half hidden behind the wall. She let out a wailing shriek that woke half the city up. The figure moved forward slowly, hands dangling by the sides. Mamuni was by now crying in earnest - the hand-wringing was on in full swing. The figure revealed itself as her mother, who had woken up for a drink and dozed off against the wall.

By this time the news trickled in that there had been a massive quake, affecting the entire coastal belt. It was only later in the day that the news of the tsunami reached us, leaving us awe-struck and counting our lucky stars.

Though at that time the events of the day seemed fearsome, as years passed they became a favorite topic of conversation, always starting with, "Remember the day when......", and ending with, "Yeah, I was so silly LOLOL..... I was absolutely fearless and.... Yeah, so was I.... Yeah RIGHT....!"

OMG, Britisher enters Jagannath Temple!

So what?!

This Times of India article really made me go WTF. Not only was there a hue and cry about him entering the temple, but he was also handed over to police who let him go after "thorough verification and scrutiny". If only such thorough verification and scrutiny were reserved for more important things, maybe India would be a much better place.

There are scores of so-called holy men who wait outside the Jagannath Temple with brooms in their hands; if you look even the least bit gullible, they swing that broom on your head hitting you with it, and then demand money from you. Their reasoning - they warded off your "Shani" by that gesture, so if you didn't give them a hundred bucks rightaway, dude, you are so screwed by Shani Bhagwan. Even the main pujari is unscrupulous.

It is these people we need to be aware of, and maintain a distance from; not unwitting citizens who have done nothing wrong. Isn't it time for us to let go of petty beliefs and embrace people for what they are?

The Red Corridor

Scenario 01: Two friends, barely out of graduation, get selected for a postmaster's job. They break for lunch, and decide to have a simple meal at the tiny dhaba across the road. No sooner than they leave the post-office that bullets start flying around them, and a fierce gun battle starts between insurgents and the CRPF. They duck their heads and run for cover.

Scenario 02: A bank manager drives to work, looking furtively around him for attackers. He goes to the bank, locks up all the doors from inside. For any customer to enter, they have to identify themselves before the locks can be opened. He tries to make the 50 km journey back home before dark - it would be too dangerous otherwise.

These are not scenes copied from Sholay, and the setting is not militant-infested Kashmir. The two kids are my brother's friends, and the banker is my father. For them, this is just any other day in a tiny village of  interior Orissa. Bridges getting blown off, railway tracks torn off are all absorbed with just a nod of the head. Commonplace.

Sounds incredulous, isn't it?

We are talking about the home-bred, in-house gang of terrorists, AKA Maoists. The Maoist Movement which began as a simple fight for tribal justice has taken on alarming proportions. No longer can they be ignored as innocent tribals fighting for their rights, for food, for education. No longer can they classify themselves as Naxalites, guerrillas, or by any other damn name. They are terrorists, pure and simple.

The Maoist Empire is a staggering 1500 crore rupee corporation; their terror spans several states, most severely hit being Chattisgarh, Jharkhand, Orissa, West Bengal, and Bihar. No, they don't spend a penny to help their fellow men; on the contrary, they extort money from almost everyone, including school teachers. They kill at will, most often than not tagging their victims as police informers. You can get more information on the Maoist modus operandi here.

Bridges, schools, railway tracks, telephone towers, buildings, nothing can escape their wrath. Their latest attack, blowing up a bus with a landmine and killing over 40 people left me open mouthed. Chidambaram says they get their weapons from across the border, maybe from China, and Bangladesh. Ah, what sweet neighbors we have! Pakistan, China, Bangladesh - kudos to you people! It wasn't enough that you took parts of our country with you, you had to continue poking at what's left.

If all of this terror and violence is one side of the story, the other, more important one is how little we have done to combat it. They keep gunning our security personnel down like insects, they kill civilians, they smuggle heavy artillery from across the border right from under our nostrils, and all we do is fart out a "strong statement" saying we will not take it lightly. Manmohan Singh declared them as the most serious internal threat to India's national security (Source: WIKI). Yeah, that should have them quivering and running for cover, right?

We have so many causes that get their quota of attention - Saving tigers, yes, they're important. Treating animals ethically, well, they deserve it. Going green, good for the environment. Do it. But hey, can someone focus on this cause, too? Maybe get to move the government to take stricter measures. At the very least, no more killings. Pull some security personnel from the thousands allocated to all those fatso politicians and place them somewhere where they can feel a sense of pride that they're involved in what they originally signed up for.

No more bloodshed, no more red. Let's say goodbye to the red corridor. I, for one, hate it.