Echoes of 'Julley'

This is a letter to the mountains of Ladakh.

Do you remember me? May be not. For you, I was just another wandering human landing at your feet, seeking redemption of some form, gasping in awe at your seemingly indefinite aura and hoping to be humbled on the way back. But for me, you were exactly like the first picture of the mountains that I drew as a child- triangular, barren with a stream of water flowing in between the two of you twins. Did you know that I sucked at drawing and failed at it, but as I walked closer to you, I felt welcomed and in the company of a big brother. The wind gushing through the pass blew across my face and I smiled. The mountains had given their blessings.

You didn't make it easy for me, and I must thank you for that. As I huffed and puffed my way up with 10kgs of a backpack loaded on my back, it gave me ample time to contemplate and introspect my life. At the end of each day, after walking approximately 10-15 kms, we would be welcomed by your sons and daughters with an echo of 'JULLEY'. We could hear it from afar, the echo made it feel like you were calling us, to take rest in your arms. You have such beautiful and heartwarming children. Their smiles, with the wrinkles on their face are as contrasting as they are compelling to look at- like the warmth of the river flowing through the sediments and finding its way. I saw that they have a special relationship with nature. They see your fury and the flashing floods of the rivers up close. They have to move places, rebuild their houses, take care of their pet animals, walk for miles every day. Talk about living life on the edge- quite literally. There was a stark contrast in the personalities of the men and women- men were very timid, calm, walking slowly with a cap, following the instructions of the women who were running the show- loud, happy they were doing all the work including cooking, cleaning, washing and so on. The men would take the animals to the fields, go down to the town to buy the groceries to stock up and come back in the evening.

Despite the challenges, they have lived under your supervision for generations, running their small homestays, helping travellers like me in our journeys. I guess there is a special resonance in the meeting of two different types of energies- one which wants to keep moving and the other which has remained still for ages. Every homestay along our journey had a common theme in their kitchen/dining area- a display of all the vessels used in the family across generations, including the ones used only for special or large functions such as weddings. Brass, aluminium, ceramics, very beautifully designed and arranged in order, giving you a false sense of calm inside amidst an impending chaos outside. Everything seems under control until its not. One such homestay belonged to our local trek guide Choupal. A 24 year old boy, calmly guiding us through the difficult paths. He had been doing this for the last 6 years, purely out of financial requirements. He was the next generation of the trek guides in the family. His house was small but homely. Mud walls, short ceilings kept the rooms very warm and the mint tea was a blessing for my stomach. His mother along with him cooked food for us and made us feel at home. Moong daal curry, rice, leafy vegetables was the staple diet at night while breakfast and lunch was a mix of eggs, roti, an occasional sweet and boiled potato.

One of the defining moments of this journey was the evening besides the glacial waters of the Markha river. Finally, I saw you, or a version of you- Kang Yatse, covered in snow like a white sweater draped around a brown body as I sat besides the gleaming, clear glacial river. Seeing the water chart a path from high up above, through the mountain sediments, grasslands and eventually flowing down to its destination made me realize and remember the words of Bruce Lee- 'Be like water, my friend, empty your mind, be formless, shapeless. We carry a lot of worries, a lot of burden along with us in our lives. We find it difficult to let go easily, to forgive and move on. We remain stuck under the burden of unnecessary rules, guidelines, promises and we don't let ourselves be free. Being like water means to flow and be empathetic towards yourselves, towards the various situations you find yourselves in and find a way out of it. Its the art of letting go. Its the art of not taking yourselves too seriously. In that moment, sitting besides the river, looking at Kang Yatse, I closed my eyes, soaking in the warmth from the setting sun. I remembered all the good things in my life, my family, friends and a beloved partner. I felt grateful and happy. I found a brown flat pebble lying besides the river and using another sharp stone, I wrote 'Paru' on it. It was a reminder to myself to forgive all our fights and start afresh. She was the one person I could not let go.