MENU
HOME
He told me he will wait right there till we come back, as
I took his words for a promise and joined the long, line of people awaiting
their turn for the famous Gondola (cable car) ride of Gulmarg. Up until then,
it did not feel a thing. Even as we moved with hundreds of other people to the
boarding platform, down the concrete path flanked on either side by rising
banks of snow, the realization of being atop one of the highest terrains in the
world and being exposed to the nature’s wild, almost life threatening tantrums,
did not register any impact in me. While we squeezed ourselves inside the dome
of Gondola at the initiation platform and the electronic doors jammed shut, I
was still to have a deep understanding of the truth, the unsaid stories and
struggles of the world that held my breath with its very first sight.
It was only when the cable car winded out of the platform
and shuddering, rose into the sky that I could finally feel what it was to
belong from a land, so immensely bereft of clear sunshine. The white world
beyond the glass enclosure of the Gondola was how the heavens looked through a
painter’s brush or perhaps felt in a poet’s verse. I let my eyes feed on the
serenity of it. The unending expanse of snow covered earth ahead of us,
sprinkled with the gathering of pines, it felt like a dream gliding through the
clouds from one connecting tower to another. I watched the trees below bend
into the storm outside with grits of snow hurling onto the Gondola walls.
Occasional lines of footprints was seen riding up the terrain, only to vanish
into the thicket of pines. Snow leopards, our guide told us. Villagers carrying
timber, strolled the slopes in herds. Their long, flowy overcoats (Pancho in
Kashmiri) flapped in the blizzard. Abandoned houses stood in the flood of snow.
They belonged to the ‘Gujjars’, the guide said. Gujjars are agricultural clans
who owned a large fleet of cattle. During the summers, he said, when the ice
from the valleys have melted away, they move up here to let their cattle graze
on the fresh mountain grass and with the first flake of snow, they migrate to
the lower altitudes for their livelihood. The very snow, this wilderness that
brings people from all over the world to the mountains to be a witness of this
devastating beauty, actually drove its own people away from their homes. Up
there amid the pelting of snow, moving further into the wilderness of Gulmarg
in our cable car, I felt for the first time that perhaps the mountains had a
flawed sense of oneness.
We de-boarded at the destined station into the foreplay
of mist and snowy winds. Setting your feet at that point was exactly like
walking the clouds. Except the fact that everything felt like an adventure. It
was hard to strike the right balance and walk ahead. The crust of snow kept slipping
beneath our feet. The mist hung so low and was so dense, that we lost sight of
each other within one hand distance. I took my gloves off and knelt down to
touch the snow. I felt my fingers singe and fall away. It was like touching the
calamity itself. I grabbed a handful of it and pressing it into a tight ball,
hurled it into the endless expanse of the white universe. We danced, laughed,
skied and posed before the camera, 15000 feet above sea level. We celebrated
the nature’s outcry by embracing the storm and praying to the heavens for the
wellbeing of this other heaven that Kashmir is.
When we came back, Sehjad was there waiting for us at the
platform, braving all the rain and snow. He pulled open his umbrella for me.
Thick drops of rain sang and murmured over our heads, as I walked with him to
his sledge.
‘Kaisa maza kiya, saab?’ He asked in his stopping
Hindi accent.
‘Bohot. Zindegi bhar yaad
rahega.’ I
smiled at him, as he held my hand and helped me sit on the wooden plank of his
sledge.
I watched his apple skin face, ice water dripping from
his hair as he picked up the cord and wrapped it around his shoulder.
‘Ab hum race lagayega….darna
nahi bilkul…aap aram se baitho…’ He remarked, as I leaned back on the sledge.
We were at the mouth of a slope and I looked around to
find numerous other sledges prepared at the edge to take the plunge. I waved at
my brother seated at a distant sledge and wrapped the cord around my fingers.
Somewhere an unheard, unseen signal went off and all the sledges at once, jumped
into the race. In the thrilling dive down the snow. I took off my glasses and
let the winds weave past my face. I saw Sehjad running ahead of me. His long,
brown Kurta billowing around him. His head bent low and rolling as he ran into
the whirlpool of wind and snow. The whole world seemed diluted to a clear,
frozen screen of white in my eyes.
I recollected Sehjad's words, ‘Darna nahi….’ and surrendered myself to the wonder of the moment.
It felt free in the lap of mountains. I buried all the negative thoughts in the
snow and closing my eyes, wished with all my heart for the fall to never end.
No comments:
Leave a comment