Wool and Warmth

When it got too cold, and 3 jackets, a monkey cap, gloves and all of us huddled together would not help us keep the warmth, we would roll up the windows of the vehicle.

There were so many woolens in the car. Jackets that would come off occassionally, gloves that had to be taken off when the scenery warranted a picture with the camera or when in those rare moments of "full network" hurried messages had to be typed out which gloved hands could not, wet socks (wet from accidentally stepping into stinging cold streams),monkey caps, head bands, scarves, kerchiefs...a lot of woolens!

During maggi/chai breaks, when cramped legs and backs would finally ease and people would literally tumble out of the vehicle groggy and struggling to gain orientation, along with them would tumble the woolens. Gloves that we had accidentally been sitting on, scarves on laps that had been forgotten...all would spill onto the ground! Someone would point out and somebody else would pick them up just as nonchalantly. I remember dropping my gloves innumerable times, in slush, in water, on hard ground and wearing them back without a care! As things are used and begin to get dirtier on journeys such as these, they become ever so charming and romantic! Everything attains character! And then it is difficult to part with them. I still have them floaters, powder blue in color that is now unrecognizable and also of a shape that suggests loss of all shape. It is a souvenir of all that Ladakh was. Becoming unrecognizable and shapeless in a gaining new recognition and new shape way.

Back in Mumbai, in moments of tiredness I have often wished for me to be in a vehicle. With music. On a long journey. To not reach anywhere soon, to not stop, to not have to talk, to not have to move yet keep moving.

During Ladakh,

The vehicle cruised from Delhi to Manali - 14 hours!
Manali to Sarchu - 10 hours!
Sarchu to Leh - 8 hours!
Leh to Srinagar - 14 hours!

Music and Silent Musings.

Precious. Unbelievably.

दिल ढूँढता है फिर वोही फुर्सत के रात दिन..

I remember Ladakh vividly only in bits and pieces...rest is a memory mist. Engulfing but escaping!

जाडों की नर्म धूप और आँगन मैं लेट कर
आखों पे खीचकर तेरे दामन के साए को ....

A special occasion warrants a special dress. And a special dress is saved, neatly wrapped, for the special occasion. Mountains need a special song. Some songs are meant for the mountains!

बर्फीली सर्दियों में किसी भी पहाड़ पर
वादी मैं गूंजती हुई खामोशिया सुने
आखो मैं भीगे भीगे से लम्हे लिए हुए

There were these mountains! Or was that a joke?

ठंडी सफ़ेद चादरों पर जागे देर तक
तारों को देखते रहे ,छत पर पड़े हुए...

Stardust fell on Stanzin's roof that night! No wonder we all gleamed even after the night faded. The starshine of stargazing shined....is still shining!

The memory mist engulfs but the memories largely escape...


औंधे पड़े रहे कभी करवट लिए हुए ....

All through the night!

MiSt

The mist missed my attention while I was in Ladakh. Now that I think about it, it was all around playing its solitary games. Following are words of another traveler which I have strung together a tad differently...



Tirelessly tackling the endless curves

There was no turning back.

Backed by an urge we rode,

Seeking a shrouded track.



In a maddening white shroud

Some wandering minds were caught,

Could have been the face of nothingness,

Yet cloaked their every thought!



In a maddening life’s shroud

some wandering lives were caught

Seeking their ten steps to clarity

Mere pawns(in a misty game)....never distraught!