Entering Kashmir

July 7th, 2013

Finally, the time has come for rest and reflection. I’ve been back in India for exactly one month and, India being India, I’ve been exposed to lifetime of differing experiences. I’ve seen the super-rich, and the super impoverished. Nature has attempted to melt me in the high heat and humidity of New Delhi, and a week later She attempted to freeze and suffocate me in the frigid, dry, and high altitude waypoint of Sarchu. I’ve been surrounded by teeming crowds, and vacuous open spaces. The only constant I’ve had to hang onto has been the unyielding helpfulness of every Indian I have met. Without a doubt, I would not have been able to manage the previous month without the kindness of strangers.

Unlike in SE Asia, the trip itself has kept me quite busy. The demands of India’s billion plus personalities are more than ten times that of Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia combined. One in seven people alive today are live in India; a land roughly one third the size of The United States. Demographics aside, I’ve been to India before, so I had a vague idea of what to expect, which is to say I knew to discard all expectations.

Getting the bike through customs was slow going, as was getting it repaired. Fortunately, I managed to get complete both of those tasks within a New Delhi week, roughly equivalent to a New York minute. I’m not sure which pace of life I prefer, but simply knowing what to expect dissolved most of my irritation.

The last three weeks have been spent on the road with my friend and couch-surfing host Girish Meshram. He had some vacation time available, and decided it was a good idea to use it to escape the 100+ degree heat and humidity of New Delhi. I too thought this was not the season to visit New Delhi, and I plan to wait out the sweltering Indian monsoon season in and around the cool and dry Himalayas.

Back in Delhi, Girish asked if I wouldn’t mind a passenger for a couple of weeks. Given the fact that I hadn’t ridden the bike with a passenger before, and that I’d be traversing some of the most challenging roads in the world, I had my reservations. Even now, I don’t consider myself a seasoned motorcycle veteran. I started riding just two years ago, and I had only ridden some 4000Km on a motorcycle before I decided to ride one across Asia. I’m no mechanic either, but I’m learning – fast.

Suffice it to say, I decided to give it a go. Fortunately, Girish and I completed our journey safe and sound. All told, Girish and I covered almost 1000 Km of brutal road, broken highway, and yak-covered plains on our way to Leh, the capital of the state of Ladakh. Filled with dubious confidence upon completion of that segment, we zealously extended our itinerary. I soon found myself attempting an 18,300ft pass into the Nubra Valley, and onwards to the village of Turtuk, which lies just 150km east of Islamabad, Pakistan. In fact, until 1973 Turtuk was part of Pakistan. However, during one of the many spats between India and Pakistan, Turtuk somehow became part of India. So it goes.

Inspired by what we saw there, Girish and I added an additional 500km to the journey, and switched the terminus from Leh to Srinagar, the capital of the Indian occupied area of Kashmir (to which India, Pakistan, and China each claim about a third).

Since my arrival in India, Girish and I have spent nearly three weeks in close quarters. We’ve talked about a great many things from politics, to religion, to life in India vs. the West, to education, to philosophy, to how to live a life in this world regardless of where, when, or in what circumstances you were born. Beyond these wonderful and insightful conversations, I’ve enjoyed interacting with people with exceedingly different points of view on what life is all about. Fortunately, nearly everyone I’ve spoken with has found sufficient happiness, fulfillment, and contentedness with life.

My nervous system is currently too addled to think lucidly about all I have seen and done since arriving in India. Piloting a heavy motorcycle with passenger for 8 hours a day surly takes a toll. I’ve seen the most beautiful places in all my life, so that’s good. I learned much about driving and fixing my motorcycle, which is also good. Somewhere in there, I was found myself to be happy, and completely satisfied with life; also good. But, right now, I’m simply exhausted. For lack of words to express what I mean: LOOK! Pretty pictures! Enjoy.

Note: Many thanks to the Indian BRO, or Border Roads Organization. Building roads is tough work, especially in the developing world, and especially at 5000 meters (over 3 miles) in elevation. Not only do the roads need to be built, and rebuilt, often by hand, but they need to be cleared and maintained as well. Landslides are the norm. Each year when the snow melts, the roads open back up. And, each year, new problems are revealed. Thousands of migrant workers, mostly from Bihar, India’s poorest state, are tasked with solving so many problems, relying so heavily on sheer endurance, and a beatific expression of the human will for a better life. Their toil is endless, their work arduous. Like every Indian I’ve ever met, their hospitable attitude towards a foreign visitor is unending. They’ve shown me that we humans can endure the unendurable, and that we can do it with a smile.

Note 2: Most photo credits to Dr. Girish Meshram and his excellent new purchase: a Canon D600 I believe. Great shots man! 

Note 3: The Internet is in a horrid state here in Srinigar, and for 1000 kilometers in every direction.Please excuse the slapdash posting of photos. Its a miracle I got them up in the first place. I think there are more, and I'm sure there much to be written.