The year was 1972 and I was in Srinagar to participate in my cousin’s marriage. One fine evening I learned that my uncle, Dr. BK Koul Dembi was planning a trekking trip to Gangabal, an ancient pilgrimage point towards the North of Kashmir, in District Ganderbal. Trekking and traveling were his personal passions and it benefitted several people in the extended family since he would invariably carry them along –, particularly TKM & RKM. They would have accompanied him on many trips, exploring exotic locations of Kashmir including Tarsar-Marsar lakes, overlooked by the mighty Kolahoi mountain; Sonmarg -Baltal trek in the Zanskar range, Aharbal-Kounsar nag trek in the Pir Panjal range. Dr. Dembi was at that time teaching at Gandhi Memorial College, Srinagar and as in charge of co-curricular activities, he would organize such expeditions on a regular basis.

Historically, Gangabal Lake has been known as an equivalent to the Ganga for Kashmiri Pandits. It finds reference in the classical historical chronicles of Kashmir – Nilmat Purana (6-8th century) and the Rajtarangini (12th Century). It also finds mention in the writings of British historians/ authors - Walter R Lawrence’s book, “The Valley of Kashmir,” (1895) and Sir Francis Younghusband’s book,” Kashmir,” (1911). Sir Aurel Stein, the translator of Rajatarangini, in his Memoir on the Ancient Geography of Kashmir has given the most absorbing historical perspective of Harmukh and Gangabal.  There are more than a dozen Lakes on this trek including Kishensar, Vishensar, Yemsar, Gadsar, Satsar, and finally the Gangabal and Nundkol Lakes. Situated at the foothills of Mount Harmukh at an elevation of 11,729 ft, Gangabal is one of the 7 alpine, high altitude, oligotrophic lakes in the Sonmarg – Naranag trek area, fed exclusively by the snows of melting glaciers of Harmukh. Reaching River Ganga was tough & tedious for Kashmiri Pandits in earlier times hence they would immerse the ashes of their departed family members in Gangabal Lake as an alternative. Every year a yatra would start from Srinagar (akin to the Amarnath Yatra) and people would carry the ashes of their family members for immersion and perform other religious rituals on Ganga Ashtami, the 8th day of the month Bhaderpada Shukl Paksha. In Kashmiri Pandit folklore the entire area is sacred, starting from Mount Harmukh which is believed to be the abode of Shiva, Gangabal, as sacred as the Ganga; names like Mahlish Maidan (Meadow), Rama Radan, twin lakes named Sokh Fyor (Sukh Nag, a hot water lake) & Dokh Fyor, Yam Her (Yama’s stairs) figure in several Kashmiri hymns and narratives, including the hymns that are sung at the time of marriage called Vanvun. Pt Samsar Chand Kaul (1883-1977), the famous Kashmir Teacher and Naturalist has described these journeys and spots in his books – “Beautiful Valleys of Kashmir & Ladakh” and “Srinagar & Its Environs”. With the opening of Banihal Cart Road, the Pir Panjal Route opened between Kashmir & Jammu, facilitating travel to Indo-Gangetic plains and to the River Ganga. When the Pakistani Army in the guise of “Tribals” attacked Kashmir in order to annex it in 1948, they, true to their creed destroyed the Temple at Gangabal, thus putting an effective end to the hoary tradition.

The trip was hastily planned and I was virtually a last-minute addition, thanks to the insistence of my grandmother. Being a private trip, budget was quite shoe-string. It was a team of seven – 3 of us guys from Munshi family, Dr Dembi, two of his cousins and one friend of my uncle RKM. At 15 years of age, I was the youngest and the least trained of the lot. I did not even have a proper walking shoe – my grandmother found an old shoe in the attic, a brown colored leather sole shoe which barely fitted my feet! We did not have basic walking/ trekking equipment including rucksacks - each person was to carry a Blanket roll that would hold clothes/ towel etc. By way of rations, we were carrying rice (our staple food), dry Kehwa Tea leaves, Salt & Sugar, Dry Sattu, cooking oil, some basic ‘masalas’, some cooking vessels and, a kerosene burning stove etc. Division of labor was very uneven, to say the least – Dr Dembi & my uncle Mr Tej K Munshi would be carrying the heavy essentials – rations, kerosene oil and stove, the basic items & equipment necessary for our survival over a trek of 7 days. Remaining members would share rest of the common burden, besides their own blanket-packs!

Our KMD bus went along the Ganderbal – Kangan route, crossing Sind River near Wayul and then meandered along the Synd River before leaving the Srinagar-Leh Road and turning left towards Naranag, our first destination. The journey of 75-80 km took almost 2 hours and dropped us at a village called Wangath near Naranag. We had planned to stay at the Public Works Department (PWD) Hut at Naranag before starting our ascent in the right earnest. From the bus stop of Wangath, we had to walk about 2 km to reach the Hut. This was an excellent rehearsal for me – there was excitement of an adventure in the offing, a new feel of carrying my own load and walking in unknown territory. The caretaker of the hut, a local Gujjar, handed over the keys to our team-leader but had a piece of advice – stay indoors once darkness descends - this is “Corn Season” and mountain bears come down to raid the corn fields regularly!

Ruins of Naranag Shiva Temple

Naranag is an ancient site, situated at an altitude of 2100 m (6900 ft), near the Wangath River, at the foot of Budhshire Mountain (in Kashmiri pronounced as Buth-sher, meaning as steep as the head and face of a person). Some people attribute the name Buthsher to the Lord Shiva temple known as Bhuteshwar. Naranag is home to the ruins of 17 ancient temples in 3 clusters. The first group of temples are supposed to have been built by King Jaluka (Son of Emperor Ashoka) in 137 BC. Various successive kings, in their respective time periods, have contributed to the building of these magnificent stone edifices including King Jayendra (61 BC), King Lalitaditya Muktapida (713-735 AD) and King Avantivarman (855-883 AD). These temples find a mention in Kalhan’s Rajtarangini (12th century CE).

Ancient Temple Complex, Naranag, Distt Gandarbal, Kashmir

Visiting the ruins of these magnificent temples was a sobering experience. What great artisans would have created such beautiful temples in those ancient times without mechanized equipment? How were such huge stones moved? Who in his right frame of mind would destroy such majestic structures? Why such bigotry? Why in the name of religion do we become blind to everything else?

Ancient Temple Ruins, Naranag

In Naranag, there is a beautiful stream called Krenk Nadi that flows into the Wangath river and later becomes a part of River Sind (pronounced Syndh in colloquial Kashmiri). We had a refreshing bath and then returned to our hut. Our team experts soon started exploring the kitchen and found a Treasure Trove – utensils, crockery and hold your breath, cups and saucers made of Jade (Zaharmohr, in Kashmiri/ Urdu)! This was a whole new experience. What were these treasures doing in a godforsaken PWD Hut – obviously nobody had taken a proper look-in.

Our ‘experts’ soon cooked a delicious dinner, borrowing liberally from the stores of the Hut! Objective, of course, was to save as much of our own stock, for future use, no doubt, as would be practically feasible. At Naranag, 2 local gujjars were hired as our guide cum coolies for the trip, to carry most of the heavy material. Reason - Budhshire Mountain is unforgiving terrain with a very steep gradient. Actually, we had chosen the reverse route to Gangabal – via Naranag; the conventional/ traditional route is via Chatragul- Brahmsar. Budhshire to Trundkhol or Trunkhol (in Kashmiri, the original would have been Tirin-Kol meaning a stream with cold water) is a journey of 15-20 km but due to the steep gradient, minimum 6 - 8 hours of trekking time are recommended. Hence the need for getting ‘hired help’ of nomadic Gujjars who are experts at carrying weights uphill.

The 7 Trekkers, enjoying a bath in Krenk Nadi, Naranag

It was decided to start early – 7 am next morning so that we can reach our next destination (Trunkhol) before sunset. I recall sitting on the veranda of the hut for a while post dinner, looking at the peaceful sight of moon throwing its light on the golden-rust colored corn fields and the evergreen pine/ deodar trees. Soon, I turned in but woke up shortly with a start, due to a great commotion with noises floating in from the corn fields. Apparently, the keeper of the hut had come to warn that a group of bears had invaded the Corn Fields and under no circumstances were we to venture out. Now, this was an unexpected development, frightful and fraught with dangers. We did not have any weapons – not even a stick to defend ourselves! Suddenly, someone pointed out that one part of the window of our room was broken and only half a window stood between us and the burly bears – a chilling thought that made us go numb.

Our Team leader whispered that even by mistake we should not speak loudly or switch on any light, including torch light. Bears are supposed to have an excellent sense of smell and the delicious smells of seven healthy, unarmed persons could be inviting for the bears! Moonlight, at this point looked a curse. The villagers and nomads, in the meantime had come out in good numbers, armed with axes and sticks and were making a lot of noise with empty vessels to scare away the marauders. Some of nomads were carrying flaming torches as fire is said to scare the bears away. Bears too were adapting modern warfare tactics – diversionary attacks. After about an hour of see saw guerrilla warfare, the battle ended in a draw! Bears retreated to keep the attack for another day! Our nomads now came out, bragging they had forced the invaders to retreat! The Keeper of the Hut paid us one last visit to ensure we were safe! After this episode, it was difficult to sleep!

Our leaders woke us up early, next morning. All the luggage was packed – stuff to be carried by our two ‘helpers’ identified and put aside. Breakfast was princely – 3 to 4 cups of Kehwa (green tea) with 2 spoons of Sattu (roasted flour) per cup. We managed to start our climb by appx 7.30 am and the only thing I can remember is that my knees were touching my chest over the next 4 hours. It was uphill struggle and I was the weakest link – bad shoes, very little hiking experience and the youngest of the lot! To cap it, we had to walk on narrow goat tracks – even well marked paths did not exist! You simply had to trust your sense of direction and, the goat track!!

My uncle kept one eye open for me all the time, realizing my shortcomings as a trekker/ climber! I recall, I sat down along a goat track at some point, propping my back against a boulder, totally exhausted. I must have dozed off, for next thing I remember is, that my uncle was desperately shaking me up. There is a belief that some herbs in these forests can induce sleep and if not woken up quickly, a person could slip into deep slumber. I feel my uncle had put some snow (snow line was some 200 ft up the mountain) inside my shirt to wake me up!

Though I had lost all sense of time, I believe we started our descent into the Trinkhol valley sometime in the afternoon. I was hungry and dead tired. By around 4 pm, we reached our destination – a Forest Department hut in the Trinkhol valley. Our advance party, all decent trekkers, had long before dropped their backpacks in the hut and had gone food hunting – to the huts of some nomads about 2 km away. Our two ‘hired’ helpers, carrying heavy loads, were far behind. Desperately looking for food, I saw, about 100 yards down the slope, a group of army men. Their officer was opening his tiffin box. Unable to control my hunger, I trundled to him and asked him, without any sense of shame or any hesitation, if his team had any leftovers from their lunch. The gentleman, taken by surprise, offered his own tiffin. It then dawned on me that my uncle, who had shepherded me up the Buthshair mountain, was also hungry. So, I told the Officer that we were 7 in all and his food would not suffice! He, very gallantly, asked one of his sepoys to prepare chapatis for us. This is one memory that has stayed fresh in my mind over the last 49 years – a young officer, offering his own tiffin to me and later asking his team to prepare chapatis for a bunch of unknown people. Salute to the Indian Army for this spirit of Service before Self! I remember lying along the make-shift stove (a few stones hastily arranged to hold a tawa with fire underneath) and savoring the first chapati, eyes closed, as if in trance. The fauji had not sprinkled even salt on the chapati and yet that taste remains alive till this date! Once chapatis had been baked, the fauji decided to prepare Chai(tea) for everybody. There was one problem though – their ration had only shakkar (raw sugar) and we ‘sophisticated, city bred people’ were weaned on only white sugar! Our fauji found a solution to that issue– there was a BSF (Border Security Force) picket some 200 yards up the mountain and the BSF guys would get ‘white sugar’ in their ration supply. Since my hunger was satisfied, I was ‘delegated’ to go to the BSF picket to ‘borrow’ a mug full of white sugar. BSF guys were not as forthcoming as the Army personnel and it took some skillful presentation on my part to convince them of the genuineness of my cause! The mug of sugar was greeted with war-cries of ‘mission accomplished’ by my teammates – who, in the meantime had returned with a couple of liters of fresh milk from the Gujjars! So, the entire group, faujis & us 7, enjoyed multiple mugs of energizing tea & chapatis!!!

Learning tricks of cooking with a Subedar Sahib of the Indian Army at Trinkol. In the backdrop is the Forest Deptt Rest House. A couple of local nomad boys appear to be curiously watching all the fuss, amused! We would buy our supply of fresh milk from these nomads (Gujjars)

This Army group – probably 6-7 personnel was part of a survey team of the Indian Army. Their task was to map the area so thoroughly that every ditch, every boulder and crevasse was marked on their maps. This, obviously, was the pre-satellite/ drone era where the job had to be manually done by specialist cartographers. The young officer, Captain by Rank, told us that his team had a young sepoy, an expert at mapping – his only problem was his well proclaimed affection for a bottle of Rum! Even while the Army rules allow for a certain amount of liquor to be provided to army personnel either free or at highly subsidized rates as part of ration, this young cartographer was known to blow his entire salary on booze! As a result, the Army had started sending his salary directly to his wife! The entire lot was very friendly and entertained us with their ‘stories’ and adventures – I believe they too missed proper company outside their own group in these far-flung areas! They also provided out team leaders with useful tips about the directions/goat tracks to be followed in the area. By evening, our hired helpers, carrying our rations and cooking utensils etc reached the camp. Our twin ‘experts’ cooked dinner and we were very happy to share the food with those wonderful men of the Indian Army. They were a kind of mobile unit and would be in the area for maybe 3-4 days only!

Mount Harmukh – a rare grand view. Peak is usually found hidden by clouds!

Early next morning, I saw the entire team looking towards the Harmukh Peak, mesmerized! It is said that Harmukh Peak (16870 ft altitude) is usually covered by clouds and rarely reveals itself. Here it was, the sun-kissed snowy peak, glittering in the Glory of God! Wrapped in a blanket (the air had a nip), sipping tea in a steel glass, on the slopes of Trinkhol valley, this was a very unique, soul enriching experience for me.

Harmukh Mountain holds a very unique position in the minds & hearts of Kashmiri people – like Mount Olympus does for the Greek! It is considered the sacred abode of Lord Shiva and HE is often referred to as Harmukh Gosoni – the Hermit of Harmukh. According to a legend, a sage/ devotee tried to reach the summit of Harmukh to see Lord Shiva face to face for twelve long years, but failed each time. One day he saw a Gujar descending from the summit. Shocked, the hermit enquired as to how he had succeeded in reaching the summit and what he had seen there. The Gujar said he had been searching for a stray goat, and that while searching he saw a couple milking a cow and drinking the milk from a human skull. The couple had offered him some milk, which he refused to drink; as they departed, they rubbed a little milk on his forehead. When the Gujar indicated the spot where the milk was rubbed, the sage was extremely joyful and rushed to lick his forehead. It is said that the sage attained Nirvana and disappeared from the place, to the complete surprise of the Gujar.

Harmukh has been part of Kashmir’s composite culture and figures in several hymns, poems and stories of both Hindu & Muslim origin. Shamus-Faqir (Mohd Siddiq Bhatt) the well-known Kashmiri sufi poet in one of the songs says:

“Zaan’e w’ale kar zaanee yaar, Harmukh Vi’chu Deedar
Pard’e Zaal Aaz dard-e-naar, Harmukh Vi’chu Deedar”

“Seeker of Truth, to Know the Truth, Turn to Harmukh and See;
Burn the veil, today, on pain of fire, Turn to Harmukh and See"

"Thou knower of truth if you want to see Him face to face, you can see Him at Harmukh”

Author cleaning utensils for the evening meal, on the grassy slopes of Trinkol. 2 Tents of the Indian Army Survey Team can be seen a bit down the slope. 3 Gujjar kids are watching us, curiously!

Plan for the day was to travel to the Gangabal Lake for a dip. Journey is through a beautiful valley. Trunkhol(Tirin Kol or Cold Rivulet) had a lovely stream flowing in a ravine, some 200 yards downwards from our Forest Hut. I was tasked at getting water from the stream and also, to wash our utensils, post lunch/ dinner! One more member, Mr SKD was assigned to me as part of the ‘service’ team! Now, this was the beginning of a comedy of errors that ultimately led to some bad blood between Mr SKD and myself. And, herein lies an interesting tale! Mr SKD was senior to me by about 15 years and well qualified – a PhD. That made him feel privileged – like some kind of a preening rooster. He thought his high educational degree entitled him to certain privileges. On an expedition, where each one is expected to carry his/ her own burden besides sharing certain specific common tasks – nobody gives a damn to your color/ height/weight/ education or similar qualities. For him, I was an upstart, still at school and hence, he expected some kind of subservience. He thought I would do all the hard work of fetching water, cleaning dishes while he could discuss finer points of politics and higher philosophy. It soon became obvious that he was ill-suited for trekking and a non-believer in teamwork! Not one person in the team was ready to extend to him any kind of courtesy on any account and he had to suffer the ignominy of washing dishes and fetching water from the stream with me! It sure led to serious heartburn and ego bruising but there was little he could do about it!

The trek to Gangabal from Trunkhol is relatively easier gradient, almost a cakewalk after the Naranag- Trunkhol trek. You have to trek amidst grasslands with blooming flowers where during summer time the nomads (Gujjars & Bakkarwals) come up with their cattle – thousands of sheep and goats, guarded by ferocious, locally bred dogs. These dogs, known as Bakkarwal Dogs in local parlance, are capable of taking on the wild bears that attack their herds.

Performing Pooja at the remnants of Gangabal Temple destroyed in 1947-48 by Islamic Zealots

We reached Gangabal early afternoon after a couple of hours of trek. The original temple was destroyed by the Pakistani raiders/ army in 1947-48. We could see a vast lake (3.5 km x 1 km, deepest point – 80 m) and a big boulder on its edge, probably the remnant of the destroyed temple. An elderly Gujjar met us there and narrated the story of the destruction of the temple by the crazy foot soldiers of Islam. He told us that the local/ nomadic population holds the Lake Gangabal in high esteem and that it was a Muslim Gujjar to whom the path to Harmukh peak was revealed by Lord Shiva Himself – such is the folklore. We took our bath, said silent prayers to Lord Shiva who is said to reside on the Mount Harmukh.

Trekkers enjoying a refreshing bath in the holy waters of Lake Gangabal

This entire region is so well described in Kashmiri Spiritual Leelas(religious/spiritual songs), often in allegoric terms of self-realization. Each important spot along the route from Srinagar to Gangabal features in these leelas – Mahlish the meadow, twin lakes called Sukh Fyor & Dokh Fyor, Ram Radan etc.

Gangabal lake fed by the snows of Mount Harmokh. Pictue shot by author in July 1972

As we started our return journey to Trinkhol, the weather started to change. At high altitudes, changes can be sudden and severe. In half an hour, it started to rain which soon turned into a hail storm. Skies turned dark; there was no place to hide – not a tree or boulder within reach. All my teammates started running – probably in search of some cave supposed to be on the route. In light of my slipping episode earlier, I was afraid to run and got left behind. Not knowing what to do, I decided to just keep walking. The only luxury I permitted myself was that I pulled out my pullover and put it on my head to soften the blows of hailstones bouncing off my head! I am sure I must have started to cry too, but who was there to see my tears as those mingled with the rivulets of rain cascading down my face? As I kept walking, a thought turned me numb – I had lost my sense of direction and had no idea where I was heading to. It was already dark due to clouds and the Bakarwals would soon loosen their ferocious dogs in anticipation of a bear attack. Those dogs could certainly make a nice meal of me. In the distance, I could definitely hear the dogs barking – could I sense some kind of excitement in their mad yelps? I was drenched to the bones & terrified to my bone-marrow; the skies were unrelenting. What do I do?

Remember the immortal words of Arthur Hugh Clough,” If hopes are dupes, fears may be liars,” The skies let up and the rain stopped after about an hour. Suddenly, I saw a light, coming from a fire, located maybe a couple of miles away but on an elevation. Without thinking much, I started walking towards the light. As I came closer, I realized it was the BSF picket, almost adjacent to our Hut. The roaring fire would have been lit by the BSF Jawans to keep themselves warm. This sight flooded my soul with relief; I reached the picket almost as though in a trance! The soldiers saw me, recognized me and invited me in. For the next few minutes, I just could not speak anything – the words appeared to have frozen in my throat. One of the soldiers pulled me closer to the fire and in another couple of minutes, thrust a large mug of tea into my hands. Over the next few minutes, gradually words started tumbling out and I narrated my adventure to those brave hearts who guard out borders, staying in such tough conditions! My clothes started to dry up and in another 30 minutes, I was dry enough to walk back to my Camp. I could anticipate that my team leaders would be worried about me.

Tasting the glacier-fed waters of Lake Nundkol

Next day was designated for exploring the area around Gangabal Lake. We climbed a small peak and saw, on the other side of the peak what appeared to be a big black leaf at first glance. On closer scrutiny we realized we were staring at the bottom of a lake, filled with crystal clear water. Off the team went, in search of the lake. After an hour or so, we could see a couple of posh tents, some horses, a white couple sitting on camp chairs near a roaring camp fire, sipping their drinks as their cook(khansama) fried the freshly caught fish. My uncle, who was leading our party, suddenly missed his step and slipped into the lake! The couple came to his rescue, pulled him out, made him sit near the fire. The lady very graciously offered him a drink (being a teetotaller, he politely refused) and some fried fish – which again, he politely refused. This is a very interesting phenomenon – we Kashmiri Pandits normally are carnivores and fish are regularly cooked in our homes. However, we do not partake of fish associated with any of the holy lakes/springs of the valley. So, no way, we could have accepted the offer!

Journey back to our Hut was very memorable. The moon was out, shining brightly and giving a surreal feel to the entire environment. It was magical and so peaceful. Back at the Hut, we started making preparations for our final assault – return journey via Mahlish & Ram Radan to the village Wussan just off the Kangan Road. It was a journey of 32 km, as Dr Dembi told us, mostly descent. Since we had to cover a lot of ground, there was no question of cooking food.

We were to outsource food – it was already decided to get Makki ki roti from a Gujjar family and use the tin of pickles to go with those. Absolutely, no frills! There was a reshuffle in the luggage carrying duties – my uncle was to carry the heavy pack of rations and he asked me to carry his bag in addition to my own backpack.

Wading across streams & rivulets on our way back to Trinkol. For a change, author is in the lead!

We were greeted by a thick fog in the morning. Our ‘team of experts’ was deputed to fetch the Makki ki rotis from the Gujjar hut. I bade a hasty goodbye to my BSF friends – we never got to return their cup of sugar and they were decent enough not to mention it, in any case! We would have started from Trinkhol by about 9 am. For the next couple of hours, we walked in the fog, not very sure of the goat track or the turn we were to take. I had heard from my father about the existence of several lakes in the area. A meadow named Mahlish, supposed to be 12 miles long was the highlight of the route. Folklore has it that one year, as the Yatra reached Mahlish, weather changed abruptly and it started to rain which later turned to either a hailstorm or into a snow storm. With not a tree or boulder as possible shelter around for 12 miles, the entire group is said to have frozen to death (vattis, in Kashmiri). It was easy to see why.

With such things in mind, and the fear of walking into a lake very real (due to poor visibility), we were in a rather jumpy state of mind. I was carrying an extra bag on me (uncle’s bag) and feeling that much extra pressure on my back. Finally, around 12 noon, lunch was declared. We sat on wet ground (due to the fog), lowered our back loads and went for the Roti + Pickle delicacy. I remember my uncle just did not bother to offload his shoulders and I fed him his share of Roti+ Pickle while he rested his aching back n shoulders.

The entire day we spent walking, most of it a descent along what was known as ‘Yem Her’ (Yama’s staircase), in our folklore. The gradient was much easier, path better defined and the surroundings very pleasant. By 7 pm, we reached our destination – Village Wussun. We made enquiries and were told that the Headman, Mr Munna Haji could provide us space to sleep in an outhouse of his. I was tasked to meet Mr Munna Haji to get the required permission. Well, that proved to be a very easy task – he was excited to know that a group of College Students was camping in his village and personally accompanied me to his outhouse, by a beautiful stream. It was a typical double storied mud house with a thatched roof and a nice hall but princely for us tired travelers – and more important, totally free! We dumped our luggage and started preparing for dinner. I took out all plates etc for cleaning – which caused a bit of commotion in the girls-folk by the stream since it was unusual for men folk to wash plates and cups in those days!

The night went off quite peacefully - we slept well after a long 32 km downhill trek. We were now on plain ground, relaxed, quite near to “our kind” of ‘civilization’. Next day plan was to reach a rivulet on the main road, some 2-3 km away, wash all the grime n dirt off our bodies, cook a nice meal and then start for Srinagar. As we were walking along the dirt road, I saw our ‘expert group’ fall behind a bit, engaged in serious talk. On reaching the rivulet, we found a nice spot, settled down, brought out some oil to massage our bodies before going for a dip in the ice-cold waters of the rivulet. Dr Dembi went to get some mutton from the village shop – to celebrate our safe return. Our two nomadic helpers were waiting in anticipation – they would be getting their promised money and could start back for home, after lunch!

 Suddenly, our ‘expert’ team appeared and held urgent but hush-hush discussions with the two ‘helpers’. To my surprise they pulled out a big live rooster from under their towel and asked the Nomads to prepare it (kill, cleanse etc so that it could be cooked). The two ‘helpers’ immediately set to work! I enquired and learnt that that while coming out of the village, our two ‘experts’ had hijacked (stolen would be a bad word) a rooster from the roadside and wanted it dressed & cooked before Dr Dembi returned from the market. Anyway, Dr Dembi ultimately came to know about the episode and gave the two a tongue lashing for having stolen from the villagers who had provided us free shelter for the night. A grand, gala lunch was cooked & eaten. Both our helpers received not only the promised money but also whatever material was leftover - rice, sugar, salt, edible oil, pickles, condiments etc. The leftover portion of mutton & chicken too was handed over to the two ‘helpers’ who had really helped us perform this memorable journey! We took a bus for Srinagar and landed at our respective destinations, safe, happy and definitely wiser! This trek was not just an adventure for me but a huge lesson – about leadership, team work, motivation, planning and above all, loving Nature! Thank you, Dr Dembi for taking me along!

I believe the track has become a favorite Trekking route in Kashmir over the last few years. I have also learnt that J&K Govt has started a Hydro-Electricity generation project on Gangabal Lake. The pristine valleys may, by now, have fallen prey to the ‘progress’ of humankind. I retain, in my heart and mind, the romance of those years of innocence, of tranquility – 49 years is almost a lifetime and certainly would love to retain those images till my eyes close forever!