Ladakh ( ལ་དྭགས ), October 2022

14th October

I liked Delhi before. Now I can’t decide if this is purgatory that I will eventually escape or if this is what Dante’s seven circles of hell feels like, never to be left. It is unfortunate that this is where most if not all of us have to return to, to work, to exist. Leaving life behind at the feet of the mountains that rise straight from the Earth itself, so far, so proud, but you could bow to them every moment.
What are skyscrapers but man’s bitter attempt at playing God.
We could be divine. We choose to be this.
Vile, poisonous, devouring our lives. Gnawing away at our own bones.

12th October

I’m on my flight back to Delhi as I start writing this. I have not been writing anything these past 13 days. Words have not been coming to me. But as it strikes me now that this trip has been a long time coming, and I do not know when I’ll have the will and opportunity to have this chunk of time to find myself in the high mountains again, I feel an intense urge to put this down, in the hope that reading this will become a source of inspiration and strength for me in the long days to come. Even though flying to Leh is easier than taking a bus to Himachal, the immensity of the surrounding area hits you harder, without you having the time to let the mountains grow along the road.
Stok Kangri sits proudly off to the South as you first get off from the aircraft, looking over Leh. The proportions of the valley where the Leh Airport is built make the aeroplanes look like toys that you could play with. As I flew away today, she had wrapped herself in clouds, her gaze obscured, and her sons cold as they rejoice in the coming winter.

9th – 11th October

We’ll be taking the road up through Khardung La to the Nubra and Shyok valleys. Only Shyok, I’d say. Diskit and Hunder.

The Diskit Monastery sits up and away from the road down below which runs along the river. You only see it when you pass the gates, to the right, higher up the mountainside. To the left is the Maitreya Buddha statue. Colourful, vibrant, tall. Under the setting Sun, the monastery is in the shadows of the cliffs that protect it. The Dukhang has a lone monk praying in the empty hall, and the Gonkhang deities are ready to wake up.

The sands speak of the sea that was once there, even before the Himalayas rose. Ancient sands. They’ve seen the first people arrive, past the highest passes the mountains grudgingly offered. They’ve seen man reach new depths of endurance as they walked amongst the Gods, on foot, on horses and camels. Now they see men pretend to be what they could be, and want to be, on the backs of camels that surely laugh at us.

Nomads and settlers gave us these roads we travel on, easily now, with impunity and without a bow to those great men. Yet Nomads are what we want to become again, on to new lands, empty expanses, to conquer and be masters, over and over again.

As we sleep at Hunder, the clouds gather to the west, over at the Chang La initially, and then we drive right towards them. The white sunlight is covered, and there is light snow on peaks that were bare stone and sand yesterday. Through Agham and Shyok we go, towards Durbuk, a fork and a flat where the roads go to Chang La or Pangong Tso. And our purpose that day was to reach the latter.

Nobody will ever be able to tell you about the immensity of Pangong Tso. When you first see the glint of flat steel between the sloping ranges, you’re not prepared for the unending expanse of water that your eyes will struggle to take all in as you travel past its banks and then on the road above it. No photograph that you’ve surely encountered previously can convey the proportions; and the dormant and still waters that you see from afar, it’s all alive. It will talk to you of the time when it was the Tethys. The surf that rises, and the waves that roll onto the sand beaches will murmur of the depths of the sea, and you will forget that it is but a lake now. Past the grey sands, and the turquoise shallows, you will be drawn to the black where the bed falls away, and wonder what primordial stories lie unseen in the heavy waters. When you draw your eyes upwards then, the behemoths that rise from the remnants of the Tethys look so near you could swim towards them, but they’re so huge and the lake so wide, you would never reach.

This morning at Merak, a village 40 kilometres from the western end, the mist and the clouds are coming over the lake together, covering the far peaks. And I can feel the presence of the Gods in every valley that peeks through. I can imagine them stepping, and conferring. Are they larger than the mountains they’ve made? Or were the mountains made by one more Elder?

There is snow, and wind, and fiery autumn colours lighting up the fields that rise up behind and beside me. I have brought a shadow of Iceland alive around myself.

5th-8th October

Leisurely days at Woosah Hostel. Sketching, reading, napping, soaking in the peace of the off-season city. Music after dinner with friendly people. Restful. But I’ve messed up my left forearm and my fingers, and I can’t really play the guitar right now.

Morning prayers at Thiksey Gonpa. See the first light of day wash over the valley.

The two best friends land on Saturday. I am happy to be with them. There’s no pretense, no act, no walls to hide behind. We eat and we go look at the Leh Palace. Then we walk up a face of a mountain to the Castle higher up. We walk down the entire way to Mall Road for an early dinner and then sleep. We leave for Hunder tomorrow.

2nd-4th October

I have decided to rent a motorbike. Considering all available options, of expensive taxis, and buses that’ll drop me off at a bridge without a place to go, a bike is the way to go. I will ride to Hanle, but I start late, and till Karu, I’m getting used to LA02 7282. Getting to know her. I stop multiple times to take photographs, and all of this takes me upto Nyoma before darkness sets in. Stop for the night, and reach Hanle the next day. The roads are smooth, but the air is thinner, and the engine needs a lot more fuel to keep up speed in the gales that cross the vast sandy plains of the Indus.

Hanle isn’t visible when you get there. The Army Base is much larger than the actual village, which is hidden behind turns of the road. The Hanle Gonpa, however, is the first building you see when you stop at the Police check-post. And then the Observatory. Night falls, and oh, the stars! and our Galaxy! and the Moon so bright! I lay there on my bed, no electricity to mess the darkness around, and the full windows at the homestay let me stare at the sky shimmering and rippling away until morning comes around.

Start on the ride back to Leh. Familiar roads now, and people I’ve met before.

My first sight of the magnificent Thiksey Gonpa. Like a jewel which has grown. Organic, and so clean and bright.

30th September and 1st October

“I am going to Ladakh” and “I’ve reached Leh” is just an hour apart. From the grey haze of the National Capital, to the clear blue of the land of high passes, it is too easy, and such an unburdening. As if death itself has stopped chasing you.