AMARNATH YATRA - a journey into myself…

Amarnath Yatra is in news every year not only because it is one of the toughest journeys for pilgrims but also a dangerous one. For me it was something exciting that I was looking forward to. Some kind of a challenge because many people told me that it was the most difficult trek. But as days passed by and we were moving closer to our departure many changes happened in my life which shook me emotionally. I felt a desperate need to distance myself from everyone and everything and take a journey into myself. Amaranth cave was not as important for me as was the long walk. The exhaustion… the danger… the uncertainty that came with it… I was not driven by the religious fervour to see the Linga but I could desperately feel the eagerness to make the journey and make it alone. Things do not go smoothly with me as Luck is hardly on my side and I have to work more than is required to get what I want. This trip was no exception. We were scheduled to go in June - almost a month before the actual yatra began but due to security reasons we were asked to wait till third week July. The dates got cancelled and were re-scheduled so many times that I was slowly losing faith that we will be able to go at all. ‘Time’ the ultimate ruler finally took pity on us and things fell into place. While driving to the airport I kept pinching myself whether it was true that we were going or was I in some dream world !!!! At the check-in counter I suddenly realised that I was not carrying any document which proves that I am an Indian. It was not a matter of showing a photo identity proof to the airlines people as there were 3 of us travelling and other two were carrying a valid document. It was a matter of my security and identity. What if something happens in Srinagar and I am asked to prove that I am an Indian. I felt like an alien in my own country. My name, my dress, my religion everything will be inconsequential to an officer who needs a document as a proof. I am a secular person and hate the political and religious divides which people have created but if I am thrown in a communal situation will people listen to my philosophy or will I be ‘branded’ a Hindu because of my demeanour and name. What if Indian police catches me and says I am a spy. Baseless as these thoughts are they kept going in a loop. I tried hard to think positive and told myself ‘All is well’. Flight was to take off in another 45 minutes. There was no way I could get any valid document. So I braced myself for any kind of a situation. We landed in Srinagar airport which is nestled between mountains on all sides. The peaceful and quiet atmosphere gave no indication of the tension which was gripping the city. We were welcomed by a gentleman from CRPF (a friend of my relative who is a retired official of CRPF and had arranged our stay and travel within Kashmir). I thought it is just for courtesy that the officer has come to the airport and will escort us to the guest house. But things were far from normal. We were told that we cannot even think to enter the city, leave alone travel through it to go to Baalthal. There were incidents of violence in which police vehicles were targeted. A senior official’s vehicle was set on fire. Police was on high alert as there was continuous pelting. We were asked to rest in the CRPF guest house and wait till tension subsides. Our return ticket was booked after 3 days. If we did not start for Baalthal the next day we will have to return to Delhi without making the Yatra. I being the youngest in the group and short tempered could not stay calm at all. I kept asking Dinesh ji and Anjali “What do they mean by rest!!!!! Why are we here … I haven’t come here to walk around CRPF training camp and just rest… I want to go to Amarnath.” They were as helpless as me but did not express their frustration. I think the tension was slowly building in them too. We took turns actually. When one was tense the other two placated him/her. Having nothing to do and tired to see the same news reports again and again we decided to go for a walk. Several batches in white t-shirts and khaki knickers were being drilled. They looked like machines, not humans. On one level it was a tough physical training but at a deeper level their minds were being trained. I was silently watching how the individual’s ego was slashed again and again. Many trainees were reprimanded in a language that was so rude and insensitive. I stood still and kept watching. What are they being trained for? To protect us ? From whom? One man being trained to lift the guns against another. I should not be emotional in such things. After all it’s a matter of internal and external security. But I could not help smiling to myself thinking of Javed Akhtar’s words ‘ panchi nadiya pawan ke jhonke koi sarhad na inhe roke, sarhad insaanon ke liye hain, bolo tumne aur maine kya paya insaan hoke ’. When? When? How long? Same questions were asked again and again – sometimes within ourselves or to anybody whom we met- the cook, the soldier, senior official, and driver. ‘When can we make a move’, ‘isn’t there any taxi driver who will take us there ‘, ‘what if the curfew doesn’t lift in 3 days?’ ‘Aren’t there alternate routes’, ‘why should we suffer because of someone else’s political, religious idiosyncrasy? ’ It was interesting to note the difference in their answers which also reflected their economic, social, religious and cultural background. A senior police official, who was a staunch Hindu said ‘all these Muslims should be thrown out of this country. If I am given a chance I’l see to it that Muslims do not get promotions. In fact during the selection process I will fail many of them purposely. Can’t say when this curfew will lift. You please stay here comfortably’. My blood was boiling hearing him speak like this. I kept exchanging glances with my friends who signalled me to stay calm and not be expressive with my face. The cook, a Muslim, said ‘what to do sir, all this is just wasting everyone’s energy and time. Don’t know who starts such things. Because of someone else’s fault it is the common man who suffers. One person does something and the entire Muslim community gets branded’. The soldiers guarding our building were nonchalant about the whole thing. ‘Don’t worry saab. All this will get over’. Anjali was clicking their snaps. I just walked away. It was getting impossible for me to handle this suspense. Afternoon 3 pm… total silence. I could only hear a jeep. Far away. Somewhere. There were barricades all around me. I was told that several people who were waiting to go to Amarnath were scattered all over the city. At least we were safely put up in a training centre while others were held up in some lodge or hotel. The TV channels added fuel to the fire giving only negative news.. itne mare, utne ghayal hue.. I was fed up. Sun was slowly setting. We were invited by the senior police officer for a walk around the campus. He took us to a place which was like a meeting point of all religions - a temple, a church, a mosque and a gurudwara. I wanted to see the mosque also. Everyone discouraged me from visiting it and when I insisted nobody accompanied me. While all the other buildings were busy with some activity, the mosque was locked. I was hurt. Deeply hurt. I could not express my disappointment because I knew no one will understand. They discouraged me from going to the mosque why will they share my pain. I didn’t want to hear weird comments about it so I chose to keep quiet. A weird image flashed in front of my eyes. All the gods whose idols were being worshipped in other buildings were actually in the mosque. Silently sitting with their sad faces. Early dinner, television and then sleep. I woke up with the noise of the television. Anjali had just switched it on. With no sign of curfew being lifted all our hopes to visit the shrine were thwarted. After a silent breakfast we again went for a walk, and were tired of seeing the same things. Even beautiful dahlias, roses, pansies, lilies, bottle brushes could not lift our spirits. We had packed our bags in the morning as we didn’t want to lose a single moment after being told that we can leave. So what to do next? We borrowed rackets and played badminton. I think all of us had given up hope of making a move. We were tired of our own frustration. Playing badminton in Srinagar- we did not come for this. But had no choice. Either we get depressed and curse everyone around us or spend our energies hitting a shuttle cock. When Anjali and I had almost accepted the truth Dinesh ji came running with the news’ chalo .. jaldi…’ . Within 5 minutes we got into a taxi fixed by the police officials because their own vehicle was not safe. We were told that a senior official’s jeep was pelted the previous night. So they could not risk our lives by sending us in their jeep. The roads were almost empty. I could not blink my eyes even for a second as I tried to take in as much beauty as I could. Shades of blue and grey were splattered on the wide canvas of the sky and the water body. Colourful houseboats floated gently on the still waters of Dal Lake. But they were mostly empty due to the curfew. Each of them had a name- the one which attracted my attention was Pandora… the habitat of Na’vi tribe in the movie AVATAR. We had a comfortable vehicle and an excellent driver, Jafaar. I was thanking Allah for His blessings. In these troubled times when parts of the city were burning it was certainly a miracle that a driver agreed to dive us to Baalthal. He was certainly God sent. Otherwise we would have had to take our flight back after 4 days without visiting the shrine. A Muslim driver taking Hindus to their holy shrine !!!!. IN a tense situation that the city was in he agreed to drive us through it. There could have been any attack. We were not bothered because for us visiting the shrine was the only important thing at that time. What about him. But he never expressed any anxiety or fear. That gave us the confidence to face any situation. From the moment we met till we were dropped back in the airport he did everything to make us feel comfortable and homely, as if we were his family members and getting us back safely was his top priority. On the way he shared his story. His family had suffered due to the clashes between the militants and the police force. He was taken away by the police as a suspect and was beaten a lot. He showed us the scars. Even now he shudders to think about those days. Today he lives with his mother. Irrespective of all the injustice meted out to him he still smiles. I think it doesn’t really matter what you do in life. How ‘big’ or ‘small’ the job is, is not the real issue. It is the attitude towards oneself and the others around you which makes you who you really are. I was thinking, for every journey in life, not only is the traveller and the path important, but also the fellow travellers who walk the same path. They can either enrich the journey or create unending obstacles. The fact that we got such a good driver helped us save our energies for the climb. Otherwise we would have been tired mentally or even physically if we had to deal with a lousy, grumpy driver. As we went around the Dal lake I saw Char Chinar Trees.. Four trees in middle of the lake. They looked very mystique from a distance. Like some old sages witnessing life pass by- generation after generation while they stood watching and waiting.. Waiting for peace. And I felt as if those trees were telling us something.. ‘Save us… save our people… save this place… Somebody… Anybody…’ So many emotions were running in my head. I was happy to be in midst of heavenly beauty, sad and helpless about the violence that was still gripping some parts of the city, frustrated thinking why people kill each other in the name of God. I wondered what can external beauty do if the mind is filled with violence? Nature is showering the human race with so much love and bounty but we are totally blinded by our own veils… which not only unable us to see others but also ourselves. We drove past Dal Lake, went into narrow lanes cutting through fields and crossed many cluster of houses. The tension that gripped us in the city slowly melted away. We were mesmerised by the rich green fields and the majestic mountains. Many villagers waved to us. It felt so homely. Human beings are intrinsically peace loving, close to nature and simple. Most of us cover our core with so much that it takes ages to again re-discover that simplicity. Waving back to them I felt as if I made a connection of love. As our car drove on the meandering hilly roads I saw a river flowing - One of the many companions on our journey. We stopped for a while to hear the sound of water. It was like some music, each ripple playing its own instrument and creating a composition of sound. A group of donkeys crossed the road. They were walking without any loads otherwise I always see a donkey carrying so much. They are such docile creatures eternally serving the Man. And for their thankless job they not only get rebuked but are also marginalised compared to other animals. After taking some pictures we started our journey again. It was slowly getting cold as we were moving towards Baalthal. I was lost in my thoughts about the uphill trek that we were going to make the next day. I was slowly drifting into sleep when Jafaar’s voice jolted us, ‘lo ji aa gae hum’. When I opened my eyes it was something unbelievable - like some scene from Harry Potter and Goblet of Fire - Hundreds of colourful tents surrounded by green and brown mountains on all sides, helicopters hovering in the sky and people walking everywhere with their baggage. We got down at the base camp in Baalthal and carried our luggage to our tent. We were privileged to be staying in one of the army tents with proper water supply, beds and a makeshift toilet, whereas other tents which were for civilians did not have many facilities. People had to collect water from a common tap but I was told that everyone was given hot water for bathing. It was a tough stay. But I did not see anyone grumbling. The whole atmosphere was magical as if everyone was a part of a big yagna. Each person seemed to offer herself/himself to the Lord Amarnath and it is this feeling of devotion that made the place look like a Teertha. Although we reached in the night we could see lights on the mountain paths leading to the shrine. The wind carried the sounds of bells. Helicopters were resting in their parking areas. Pandals were filled with people. Mules and their owners were continuously making rounds. Security guards were keeping a vigil. Weather was a little chilly which meant morning was going to be cold. We kept our bags in the tent and went to have dinner. What an aroma. Hot hot puris, kachoris, rotis, dal, sabji, halwa. Every pandal was run by a voluntary organisation. The food was free and it was served to anybody and everybody irrespective of caste or creed. All the loud speakers were playing songs on Bholenath. To someone who is not familiar with that genre of music it will sound like a cacophony but it fitted well in the whole scene. Since we were very hungry and the food was free, Anjali and I decided to eat from every pandal. Ignoring Dinesh ji’s advice we hopped from one pandal to another till our feet and stomach started giving signals. We headed back to our tent around 11. It was a bit scary to see those army trucks and barbed wires running between the tents. One of my earrings fell down. I knew we will not find it but my obsession with things did not allow me to just let go. I searched for it like an idiot in the muddy pathway that too at 11 in the night when there was no proper illumination, knowing very well that I will not find it but there was a temporary disconnection between my mind and body. After my frustration crossed its limits I gave up my search and walked back to our tent. Layers of quilts and booties and mufflers and mittens and sweaters kept me warm. I was wondering how will I get up in the morning and walk uphill. Months of preparation seemed insufficient for this kind of weather. I dozed off thinking about the climb which was going to start in another few hours. Before I could get adjusted on the not-so-soft bed Dinesh ji woke me up. He had just had his bath and told me Anjali had gone for hers. ‘BATH !!!!! In this cold weather ? NO WAY.’ ‘ But you are going to the temple’ ‘ if I have bath I wont be able to even step out of this tent’ ‘ Kunju no one goes to temple without a bath’. Dinesh ji’s voice was getting stern and low pitched. I knew I won’t be able to convince him and didn’t want our journey to begin with a fight. I rushed in and came out in exactly 5.2 minutes as if I had to win a competition in taking the fastest bath. Dinesh ji just stared at me and did not dare to ask how I managed it. When we stepped out it was still dark. Bluish black sky, chilly winds, whispers of people, horses’ hoofs making slow and steady moves, sounds of birds and bells, black mountains surrounding us as sentinels. I could not believe we were finally going to visit the Amarnath shrine. After series of postponements and uncertainty all this seemed like a dream. We collected our walking sticks and started our journey. The plan was to stick together but I knew it will not happen. For me this pilgrimage was not just any other trip to a shrine. Life had taken several twists and turns and I was bruised and battered emotionally. I needed to be alone in this journey. Moreover Anjali wanted to walk a bit slow as she was just recouping from a long spate of illnesses. Dinesh ji stayed back to give her company and I marched ahead. There were so many people on a narrow lane. It was sometimes scary to look to the other side towards the valley as there were no proper boundary walls. I stopped few times to take some pictures but soon realised that it can be dangerous for me and others as the climb was steep and to stop at that point was like creating a road block for others. There could be a stampede. So I continued my climb. Sky was slowly turning bright blue and we could see the helicopters – red, yellow and orange. It is a fantastic facility for the old and physically challenged people. Even others used it but majority preferred to make the arduous climb. In many ways pain is a healer, a teacher or an ego booster, I don’t know, otherwise why do so many people undertake such hardships when life offers them simpler alternatives. Its not a matter of money as many who were climbing the mountains including we three could afford the helicopter ride. A difficult trek like this also speaks a lot about one’s relation to one’s body and mind- the levels of endurance that it can surpass. After giving all these reasons I reached a point where it was futile to explain an act. Many things that we do are beyond logic and reason. We just do some things because we want to do them. As I was climbing higher and higher it was getting difficult to breathe. Legs were aching badly and I was nowhere near the shrine. Journey seems longer when the distance is unknown and end is not visible. One has to just go on and on and on. I was wondering on a journey like this it makes no sense to retreat back no matter how hard the travel is or is going to be. When I looked down I saw our tents. They seemed so very far away. That gave me a little confidence. How much have I come forward… if I have energy to come this far i certainly have energy to go forward. I realised that height and distance give a unique perspective to things. I looked around. A young girl, hardly 6 years of age was walking beside her mother. She declined her father’s offer to be carried on shoulder. Holding her water bottle she did not show a sign of fatigue or irritation. Several old people were climbing slowly. Some holding each other’s hands for support, devotees shouting names of Shiva, people giving confidence to each other… ‘bas zyada nahi hai’ when actually the distance was not even half covered. Each step makes a difference. One needs to just go on. After a long uphill climb, the journey started taking a descent. I didn’t know which is better – climbing up or climbing down because feet were hurting anyways. We reached a bridge which connects first half of the journey to the second half. I wanted to stop but it was already two in the afternoon and I didn’t know how far the journey is or what lies ahead… how many mountains to climb. I drank a little water. My resources were depleting and there were no stalls where I could buy water. That was also a fear. What if I run out of water? I could always ask a fellow traveller but everyone was depended on his/her resources like me. I drank two three drops more and told myself ‘if you fall down people will give you water anyways so push your limits as far as possible’. Third phase of my journey started with a climb. And I was told that there are 7 to 8 mountains to cross. I didn’t know what to make of it. There was no sign of any cave although I heard some people say ‘ dikhi dikhi wo hai amaranth gufa !!!!!‘ . Was this an illusion, a mental projection or another method to reassure oneself and not get bogged down by the strenuous journey? I could see the helicopters going both ways and for a second I thought why am I here and not in one of those? By now I would have finished my darshan and happily gone back to my tent. I just shrugged those thoughts and continued the climb. Senses started getting numb. Mind was going blank. Mouth was parched and body was giving up. A fellow traveller must have read my face and said ‘ beta zyada door nahi hai, bas aa gae. Ek aur chadai hai bas’. I chose to believe him for my sanity. How will Anjali finish this journey? She had just recovered from jaundice and was pretty weak. I was glad that Dinesh ji was with her. Finally we crossed all the mountains and reached at a stretch of snow. This was scary. Super scary. My shoes were not equipped for this. How on earth will I cross this? And the moment I started walking on it, I heard the noise of thundering clouds. THIS IS IT. I am not going to survive this. Snow and rain… I had not even finished the sentence ‘how will i….’ and it stared pouring. I could not walk at all. Each step was like lifting 10 kilos. I walked 5 steps and I slipped. Got up. Walked another 7 and fell. My knees started aching very badly. There was no point standing even for a second as it was raining heavily. Slowly my vision was getting blurred because of fatigue. I cried loudly ‘Ammmaaaaaaaaaaaaa’. I was feeling utterly hopeless, helpless and scared. ‘Am I going to die here? ’. There was no one around and water started seeping into my shoes. It was becoming almost impossible to move from there. I pushed myself to walk. One step at a time. I must have taken 5 or 10 steps and fell down. Heavily drenched, I lay there on snow for I don’t know how long. Eyes were slowly closing and I suddenly heard two male voices. ‘Are you ok? Do you need help’ I cried to them ‘I am not able to walk. Please help me. Please’ ‘yeah yeah sure.’ One held my right hand, another left and lifted me. I felt as if Shiva has sent his two sons. I stopped crying and gathered all my strength to start again. We three walked in silence. I don’t know about them but I had no energy to say even a word. Rain had stopped. But it was really cold. We reached the edge of the sheet of ice. ‘Are you fine now?’ I smiled. They disappeared by the time I raised my head to look at them. A tear ran down my cheek. Sometimes the feeling of gratitude is so strong. I can feel it in my whole body but am unable to say anything. There were rows of shops selling things to be offered at the shrine. I did not buy anything. Didn’t feel like. My prayers, my pain, my doubts, fears, love, devotion was all that I wanted to offer at the feet of the Lord. After crossing the market lane I climbed few stairs to reach the single door from where all exits and entries to the shrine were being controlled by security personnel. We reached a bottleneck because there were many people and just one single door. People started pushing each other and slowly there was no space to even stand. I suddenly felt a strong push and fell down on ice. Both my knees felt excruciating pain. I could not get up and people had to lift me. There comes a point when the mind and body is so very tired that no amount of pain elicits a reaction. I stood on my two feet and an old lady fell on me. I got up on my own this time and heard people saying ‘bechari baar baar gir rahi hai, arre dhakkka mat do bhai’. We were waiting for the guards to clear the way so that our batch could enter. Within next 10 minutes they got the signal and we were allowed in. From there started the last phase of my journey to the shrine. Darshan. I am sure this happens with most of us. We make long lists of things to ask for, but finally when we face the god the mind goes blank. Ang Lee shared his experience of visiting a temple in India ‘One of my temple visits was most interesting. I was told that it was an easy day to visit the temple but I still had to stand for four hours in a line! It was so frustrating. I was told that on a normal day one had to wait for ten hours. But the connection that I felt after seeing the deity was worth the four hour wait. I’m not religious, but I felt this instant connection when I looked into the deity’s eyes. Even though I felt hopelessness while waiting, I saw hope once I saw the deity. It was an experience that I can’t explain.’ When I reached the shrine the first thing which came to my mind was ‘have I reached? Have I really made it’ nothing looked real. I felt as if there was another stage in my journey, which I had to cover. With this thought my mind when blank. Like a white sheet of paper. Images were just floating in front of my eyes. I had hurt the thumb of left foot. I did feel the pain but not the hurt. There was a sense of release, as if I was home. Thankfully there was no one to rush the devotees [as is generally done in big temples] I stood in front of the Linga and felt my breath. I could hear myself whispering ‘Baabaa’. Some people were talking about two white pigeons. I looked up but did not bother to pay much attention as I didn’t know the significance. It was getting cold but I didn’t want to leave. Neither did I know how long can I stay. I wanted to be alone there- just me and the mountains. I was missing my parents. Appa was an atheist when he married Amma but over the years he started believing in the Higher Power. He even spent two minutes at the alter before leaving for office. I was missing my grandparents. I was missing him… and my unborn children. I wanted to dance in abandonment. Fall at Shiva’s feet… exhausted… surrender all that was in me to call ‘mine’. Dissolve my ‘I’ in the flames of devotion. The journey was very tough and I didn’t know whether I will ever come back to this place. Sitting there alone I was feeling all kinds of emotions - sad, irritated, happy, and blessed. It was getting dark and I had to leave. I kept looking at Amarnath baba. Waiting for him to say something. To give some signal that he loves me, will always be there for me no matter what. I turned around to go. But when I was about to climb down the stairs I broke down. Sat in a corner and cried till I was exhausted. So much had happened in life. I was at the crossroads. Why was I born in human form? What was the purpose of my life? There were so many things I didn’t understand about this world, about being human, what was the big deal? I mean how would life be different if I was a butterfly or a flower or a drop of water? Why did I have to make this journey going through so much pain and hardship? Why did my soul feel at home here in this cave away from everyone ? My tears stopped. Unanswered questions just disappeared in silence. I got up and walked away. A strange feeling ran through me. Did I see MJ walking near the cave? My deep desire to see him in person was driving me crazy. It was almost a year since he died but still I was not able to believe. I kept seeing the videos of rehearsals of the tour ‘This is it’. How much he tried to get back to life after all that he went through. Death is indeed a release from this world of rules and roles. I was getting lost in those ideas when the sound of temple bells brought me back to the present moment. I climbed down the snowy stairs and walked through the passage made by cutting through the snow. It was slowly turning dark. I had no clue how I am going to go back, whether on foot or on the horse. Contacting Anjali and Dinesh ji was impossible as phones were not working. I didn’t know where they are, how long it will take them to reach the shrine, where should I wait. I felt something strange. There were hundreds of people around me but I didn’t feel scared. Everyone seemed to be a member of a big family. I was thinking of the movie ‘ Do aankhen baara haath’ the two eyes in the sky which look at the six convicts who have transformed into beautiful souls - the eyes which smile at them and also cry for them. Those six men raise their arms towards the sky, towards their Guru who is no more. I was also being protected by Baba and felt assured that no one will harm me in any way. With this belief I kept walking on the ice sheet -keeping each step very slowly. It was not raining this time but walking on the snow is very tough that too with the wrong footwear. My feet were aching very badly and I decided to sit for a while when a person sitting next to me asked ‘are you also going back?’ I nodded. ‘We all are going back together. It’s a big family. If you want you can join us.’ I was smiling to myself. In this journey whenever I felt lonely or helpless Baba sent someone. I was thinking of those two men and now this family. Soon we hired a horse for everyone. Mine was a white horse -very handsome and calm. Initially I hesitated for the horse journey, thought it is better to go back on foot but they said I wont be able to make it even by midnight and what is the guarantee that I will meet my friends. At least this way I will reach my base camp much before midnight that too with a group. I took their advice and climbed on the horse. There was a jerk for both me and Faisal ( the horse ) but we soon balanced ourselves- me on him and he on his four feet. Slowly our entourage started heading down. I felt very bad for the animal. Poor thing he deserved to just roam around in wild spaces. Be with nature. I felt bad for his owner also. What a strenuous life this is, every day up and down 28 kms. They have to not only manage the horse but also the crowd on the narrow pathways which have no boundary walls. After walking for an hour or so the horse owner ( Abdul) said we should stop for tea. I felt so happy. Nitin bhaiyya asked me if I was alright and brought tea for me. I offered to buy biscuits for everyone but he said ‘we don’t take money from sisters’ I don’t like such weird practices in society regarding women because I feel it labels them as weak but at that time I had no energy to fight to bring some kind of social transformation. This was Nitin bhaiyya’s 9th consecutive trip. He said he will try to come every year. I was shocked but didn’t show it. How could they undertake such a tough journey year after year? After crossing the sheet of ice I told myself never. Never will I come back again. But now when I look back I think I understand. It is the pain, the strenuous nature of the trip which calls people back. There is a sense of surrender in fatigue which one experiences during the journey. As we stretch our physical limits I think it also means that in some way we are expanding spiritually too. I buried my head in my knees and waited for the tea. I was missing someone. Wish he was sitting next to me. I would have put my head on his shoulder. We would have shared each other’s pain. I could feel him in the stillness of the air. Sometimes my eyes fooled me as I saw him in middle of unknown faces. It is beautiful to know someone through physical senses. But it is magical to feel him in mind by going beyond the physical. I was thinking of Ramalingaswami Adigal’s song ‘ Karpooram mannakindradu yenna udambu muzhudum’ The poet says ‘my body is smelling of camphor, the same fragrance which comes from Shiva, my husband. It is not like those smells which evaporate after a while. One feels this fragrance in one’s entire being when she has dissolved into Him completely’. Suddenly I heard ’chalo chalo lets go. Its getting very late’. Faisal and I were getting to know each other well. I was able to manoeuvre my body according to his moves. Bend back while descending bend forward when ascending. As hours passed and we kept walking in dark I felt a weird connection with the horse and his owner, with the strangers who called me their sister, with the mountains, with the invisible black starless sky. While climbing I was in utter pain, did not know how long will it take to reach the shrine. I had no company, but there was something which was pulling me towards it. And now I was getting back to my world, to my house, to my people and there was something missing. Hours passed silently and we finally reached the camping area. I told everyone that I had to get off here as my camp was at a walking distance. They said goodbye and proceeded further. I started walking alone in the dark. I was walking walking and walking but the camp was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly I realised that the topography was entirely different. I was getting scared. Where will I go in this dark? Where am I ? There were hardly any people around. It was 1230 in the night. I didn’t feel lost in the mountains but here!!!. There were two roads leading to two directions. I followed my intuition and started walking ahead without knowing where it will take me. After 10 minutes I saw few security men. They told me that I had got off 5 kms before the base camp which was not far away. I was shivering in fear. What if I had taken the other road? A car with security personnel was leaving soon. I hopped into it and got dropped near my camp. Those makeshifts camps where I had spent only few hours looked like heaven. Although Dinesh ji and Anjali were not there I knew I am safe in my tent. Slowly the body muscles were coming back to life because I could sense the pain. I applied moov, popped a combiflam and slept off. Around 2 am I sensed someone entering. I was too tired to get scared. Two shadows entered the tent and in no time they also dropped dead. Sun rays slowly tiptoed into our tent. Dinesh ji was already up and awake, all ready to step out. Anjali and I were gathering our muscles and bones which had left our bodies for sometime. In a few hours we packed our bags and started our return journey. I saw the yellow, red and orange helicopters ferrying people to the shrine and back. I wanted to jump into one of them. But I remembered someone telling me - sometimes its better not to immediately repeat the experience no matter how rich it is. It should just be allowed to slowly sink in. We were just walking around while Dinesh ji and Jafaar were getting the vehicle ready. I saw this long queue of horse owners near a make-shift office. Dinesh ji told me they are all waiting for their license which is very difficult to get. Without licence they will not be allowed in the business. Most of them were Muslims. This whole trip was for Hindus and Muslims formed an indispensable part of it. I have seen this in many places. Near many Hindu temples Muslims sell flowers or other things which are used for worship. They are only bothered about their work and no one feels threatened by the other. All the communal riots have nothing to do with the religion. They are started by people who are only bothered about themselves and exploit the vulnerability of others. If all Hindus and Muslims were thirsty for each other’s blood then places like Amarnath would have been burnt down. The absolute truth is there is nothing like Hindu or Muslim. These titles are all ideas and symbols of our mind. We drove through the fields, the mountains and the river. None of us spoke much. Driver bhaiyaa was trying to break the silence but he gave up after a while. We reached Srinagar in a few hours and headed straight to the airport… As the flight slowly ascended I was remembering Nisha didi’s words ‘ Kashmir ko meri nazar se dekhna.’. She said that because her childhood was spent in midst of majestic mountains, beautiful Dal lake, colourful Nishat garden. It is true Kashmir ( or whatever little I saw of it ) is like a mystic painting. As Bhajan Sopori ji has mentioned many times there is music in this air. One can actually hear the notes of Santoor if s(he) sits silently and allows the wind to gently murmur in the ears… I was carrying a very different image of Kashmir within me… A girl sitting in front of the Linga in Amarnath cave gently whispering ‘Chidananada Roopah Shivoham, Shivoham Chidananada Roopah Shivoham, Shivoham’.