|
 There
are two routes to go to Amarnath. One is the traditional pilgrim
route via Pahalgam, Chandanwadi, Sheshnag and Panchtarani, which we
had taken, coming up. It is longer, but less steep. It also passes
through some of the most enchanting and beautiful scenery. The other
route, used by shepherds, is actually a goat trial that goes almost
straight up from Son Marg to Amarnath via 'Baltal'. The side of the
mountain at Baltal (literally meaning the bottom of the mountain) is
almost vertical. The climb is exceedingly steep and difficult. Only
the young and strong can venture to go up to Amarnath that way. But
the descent didn't appear quite so hard and returning from the holy
cave that way saved time. Besides, the route covered one more
enchanting spot of Kashmir Valley, the Son Marg. So we decided to
return via Baltal.
Coming down was by no means as easy as we had hoped.
The path was so steep that Dr.Netra felt giddy on the horse and
walked down most of the way. Our legs were so shaky that we had to
rest every few minutes. I marvelled at pilgrims toiling up this
steep and treacherous route. To encourage them, those coming down
are supposed to greet them with a 'Jai Baba Amarnath'.
Along the way, I met a young man quite tired and
exhausted. At that altitude, in that cold, he was wearing only a
white cotton pyjama kurta. He carried a pilgrim's shoulder bag. His
face shining with devotion, he stopped and asked me how much farther
he had to go. To boost his spirits, I told him it was just a little
more. He said he had just completed a visit to all the main pilgrim
centres of India, which included the four Dhams (four destinations
of Rameswaram, Jagannathapuri, Dwarka and Badri-Kedar). He had also
been to Gangotri and Yamnotri, the origin of the rivers Ganga and
Jamuna. Amarnath was his last destination and the culmination of his
spiritual efforts. I had not encountered such intensity of spiritual
feeling in one so young ever before. He then said, "Wait sister,
don't go. I want to give you holy water from all the Dhams and from
Gangotri and Yamnotri". I sat on a rock and drank spoonfuls of water
from each of those holy places, which he was carrying with great
care in his shoulder bag. What moved him to sacrifice so much of his
precious stock he had gathered with such great effort? I took it as
a sign of God's grace and felt that coming to Amarnath had for me
become equivalent to visiting all those holy destinations.
We reached Baltal nine kilometers before Son Marg as
the sun was setting. It was the home of our horsewallah, who
belonged to the Gujjar tribe, and he took leave of us. He was
returning home after nearly two months. But for these Muslim
brethren, the pilgrimage will not be possible for a majority of the
pilgrims. Employment for them is only seasonal and they have to live
on this income for the rest of the year. The road between Baltal and
Son Marg is motorable and a taxi service is available in the pilgrim
season. But the Yatra was over and the taxi service had been
withdrawn the previous day. So at 5 pm, we found ourselves stranded
along with a dozen others. I thought of the neat room and warm bed I
would have enjoyed in Son Marg and found myself humming the 'My Fair
lady' song:
All I want is a room
somewhere.
Far away from the cold night air.
Lots of chocolates for me to eat
and lots of coal making lots of heat.
Wouldn't it be lovely?
There was a chance that a truck from the nearby army
camp would be going to Son Marg. So off we went to meet the Camp
Commandant. He was delighted to see us and gave us excellent tea and
biscuits and got photographed with us. Alas! No transport was
available at that moment. We went back to the makeshift taxi stand.
We had three options: to trek back to the Gujjar village and request
horses to take us to Son Marg, go back to army camp and ask for
shelter for the night or walk the remaining nine kilometres to Son
Marg. Actually, we were too tired to walk another step.
At that moment, out of nowhere, an army three tonner
arrived and the driver picked up all of those stranded there. The
driver and his escort were Gorkhas from one of the Gorkhali
regiments stationed nearby. They dropped us in Son Marg right under
the beautiful cottages belonging to the Kashmir Government Tourism
Department. Out of gratitude, we offered them Rs.100 for helping us.
They flatly refused to take it and said it was beneath their dignity
to accept money for a little service done to stranded people. They
had only done their duty. I was so proud of them. I thought if only
everyone in our country was as honest and as dutiful as these, India
could become a great nation.
(To be continued next week)
|
