“Every New Adventure requires that first step !”

This was mine that I took in 2017. I was beginning a process of inner and outer transformation and this was the very first step. I was quite well settled with a job, a home, a relationship in Bangalore till early 2017. However things changed and I was without any of those things. So I decided, it’s time to do! 


The Beginning

In an age where everything is getting more and more digitized, mechanized and life is becoming sort of auto pilot. Everything is at a push of a button, a touch of screens. Our lives and work revolve around screens.

Don’t you sometimes wish that you could just do something with your hands? Create something tangible, not on a software, on a screen but something you can touch and feel?

This quote by Madalyn Murray O’Hair speaks to me “Two hands working can do more than a thousand prayers”.

This is my story of how I moved away from working 10-12 hours (maybe all of it wasn’t work, you know the internet is a distraction) in front of screen to travelling to a remote village in Jammu & Kashmir to volunteer on a passive solar school building project. This was my first experience of travelling with a purpose.

Signs of the Universe

Every journey has an unlikely start and mine was about two years back. I had just quit my digital marketing job in Bangalore, sold/gave away most of what I had and moved back to Calcutta without a clue as to what I will be doing next.

Going forward- A line that takes me back every time! I was travelling to Mumbai in May of 2017 on some personal work. It was then that I was getting in touch with old friends. Long story short, I was supposed to meet my friend Kiki who was also travelling to Mumbai. We didn’t get a chance to meet, so we said screw it, some other time. The universe had other plans, on my return journey by the powers of fate we were placed on the same train, in the same compartment, in seats opposite to each other!! I am mostly a skeptic but this opened my eyes.

We start catching up on life, of course we did cause we hadn’t seen each other in 10 years!! In the course of the conversation I tell her my plans “I want to work with my hands, build something, work with tools, anything”. She sensed my genuine interest in doing it and she looks at me and tells me with steely eyes “I am about share something with you. It’s close to my heart but I know I can give it to you. I did this volunteering gig as a teacher in the Himalayas. It was extraordinary and you must promise to give it to someone who would do justice to it”.

I wasn’t sure if I should be excited or nervous. But that’s me, at that time negativity reigned on top of my senses and looked at everything with deep skepticism. However, I was so happy that she shared details, and the more I learnt the more excited I became.

It was a Hungarian organization called Csoma’s Room Foundation. The foundation works on restoration of ancient relics, sustainable architecture and community building projects in a remote village in Zanskar Valley called Zangla. She put me in touch with them and after a few exchanges (along with cross questioning), I was accepted to volunteer for the summer program for construction.


The Journey

Now that everything was confirmed, I needed to ready myself for the journey. The village is called Zangla and is located deep in Kargil district (J&K). Looking back at this, the geography is completely different now. There was a lot of reluctance from my family to go there cause you know Kargil. In everyone’s head its the place of war which did deter my thoughts for a while but I thought to myself and I quote “Naaaah, fuck it!”. The journey was a long one (nearly 5 days from Calcutta to Zangla) and comprises of different modes of transportation. I took 7 cause I took the train from Calcutta!!

Like every good Bengali boy, I over prepare cause you know, one could encounter almost anything from frost biting cold conditions to a yeti!! Some things of course are mandatory if you’re travelling to the mountains especially upper Himalayas, like a good sleeping bag, tough trekking shoes and a self-filtering water bottle. 

The circumstances under which I left was tragic. One of our street dogs was diagnosed with what we thought (we being my mum and I) was rabies but actually turned out to be distemper. So the day before I left, we had to put down one of our beloved dogs. No matter how prepared one is, death always has a powerful grip on life.

Anyway, moving on ahead, I left for Delhi by train. In the last month leading to my trip, I was in touch with an Italian girl (Tilli) who was volunteering as well. She had already met up with another Hungarian volunteer (Edina) who was going for the second time to Zangla.

We met up in Majnu ka Tilla which is a place in Delhi that deserves a blog article on its own. I still know very little about it but I would definitely like to learn more. So with a cheery heart and big smiles on our faces we head for Manali by bus.

The entire journey was filled with rambunctious Punjabi boys and even more rambunctious Punjabi music!! Happy days!! I have never understood the concept of Indian men trying to impress girls (irrespective of nationality) with loud music and cat calls. Anyway, the beauty of ear phones and sleep provide respite from the all night cacophony.

Once at the Manali bus stop, we are immediately pounced on by a hoard of taxi drivers. After some negotiation, he decides to take us to a place in Old Manali. 3 of us in a room for Rs. 900 , a little higher than usual but we didn’t care. We just wanted some R&R.

We decided to leave the same night for Leh. One can go by private mini vans or by a government bus that passes through Rohtang Pass. We decided on the mini vans after a quick chat. Anyway, the tempo leaves in the middle of the night. We met a bunch of people in the evening (2 boys from Canada, a German and a couple of Spanish travellers). Our mini van departed at 1:30 am so we figured lets get together and leave after.

I’ve always been pretty secure with the hills in terms of women safety. So after a couple of beers, all of us in a cheery mood headed for the mini van pick up. Everything was fine, till out of nowhere a car screeches in with a license plate bearing the HR tag. For the others it was just another car, for me it was infinite trouble. 4 burly guys step out swaying from side to side. Buoyant spirits mixed with enthusiasm, slurry and incoherent made me think the situation was a recipe for disaster. After a few several hundred selfies with every woman tourist, the mini van arrived to rescue us from this awkward situation. The inebriated men were emboldened by the allowance of proximity and tried touching one of the girls inappropriately. 

It is when I had to request the driver to head out. I breathed a sigh of relief. I have great trust in India generally, but for foreign tourists especially women reading this. Be a little wary, you might have the best intentions and not want to offend people. But people may try and take advantage of the situation. Anyway I have not experienced anything like this since (thankfully).


Manali to Leh

Now that we were off, I found out all buses leave at night as the visibility at Rohtang pass if better then (apparently). After a change of drivers, we set off for the pass. It was cold and wet, absolutely horrible conditions for driving. Somehow there is a level of excitement amidst danger.

The visibility was poor, everyone else was asleep in the tempo van (in my head it was like, people are chill, why am I not?). I proceeded to stay awake and watch what was happening. I watched the driver (a think Ladakhi man with glasses) combat the situation slowly but surely. But then I heard him say “Arre, kuch nahi dikh raha hai” (I can’t see anything).

Any inkling of sleep just vanished. I asked the Japanese gentleman in the front seat to take my place at the back. Rolled down the windows, cleaned the windshields and onto tackling this bitch of a fog. Slowly and surely, I played the role of a navigator, while the pilot precariously drove on. I felt pretty Indiana Jones at the moment (at which I chuckle now).

Daybreak approached. It was silent. Beautiful. The air clean, the touch of sharp cold morning air on the skin like a million needles. I had the widest smile on my face. This is what I was waiting for. This is how I expected my journey to begin.

As the sun crept out from behind the mountains, all my optimism and happiness flew straight out. The road ahead was blocked, it was overflowing with water. What I thought would be a short wait turned out to be a 6 hour wait!!

That’s the beauty of the mountains, even the simplest things take the longest time. In an age of instant gratification, travel has taught me immense patience and each day I still learn more and more.

One finds odd things to kill time in such situations. I sat down and started throwing stones down into the valley, trying to hit larger stones. There were two Canadian boys we had met earlier in Manali who were on this journey too. One of them joins in, followed by Tilli. Out of nowhere it becomes an international stone throwing competition.

These are moments that I remember. Not the larger than life stuff (of course some are tough to forget) but the little stuff that we tend to overlook. We do the same in our day to day lives in search of the great big perfection but overlook the little joys.

Stones thrown = hundreds! Stones hit = none! Happiness in the middle of nowhere = Sky high!

Road fixed, we begin trudging along the mountainous road. The landscape starts resembling out of world scenes from alien movies. This could be a planet in the Star Wars films with its own extraordinary beings. My imagination runs wild!

Stark of any greenery, stones of all shapes, formations of alien nature by gravel and other sights galore. We stopped for the night at some obscure checkpoint. The tea shops have beds and blankets. It seems that this is the way of life.

With a belly full of Maggi (which I have stopped eating now unless it is an emergency), everyone settles in for the night.

In the morning we start early. Poor Edina is not accustomed to anything spicy, she’s pretty sick (probably altitude sickness mixed in). Not phased, she troops on. Here begins day two of assault on my spine. My ass is mostly numb through this journey. At some point one forgets the luxury of tarred roads. Bouncy up, bouncy down, stop for chai and maggi. That seemed the norm for the day, until we reached closer to Leh.

A stretch of road (not sure of the name) which is maintained by the Indian Army greets us with open arms. My body and especially my ass felt relief. Even sickly Edina was in wonderful spirits. She is generally quite a happy soul but the turn of health had sort of made her feel down.

The road was magnificent, nothing on each side. Full pelt down, one couldn’t help but think of movies again. The landscape was alien to me. Filled with fascinating naturally formed red mountains that looked straight out of Star Wars, iced glaciers, blue cloud kissed skies and sparse greenery. Animals of all kinds scurry about like the cute little marmot ( I saw one for the first time)

As we approached Leh, the number of Stupas started to increase, more mantras on the rocks. The fabled white buildings with the colourful prayer flags of ‘Om mani padme hum’. My heart flutters, these are the sights my eyes were yearning for. It was coming, Leh was almost here! Once Leh city arrived, we were so knackered. Grabbing our stuff, we walked to our hotel. I still was getting used to my rucksack.

Leh was a pit stop for 2-3 days. This is to acclimatize. We met up with Janos, he’s one of the chief architects who will also be volunteering for the build project. We start our search for a taxi to Padum (closest big town to Zangla in Zanskar Valley) Through our journey we met people on the minivan. There was a German guy who looked straight out of every hipster magazine. Sadly I forgot his name but he had a wicked sense of humour (who says Germans aren’t funny). Along with him was an 18 year old Austrian girl (Lea) travelling the world on her own.

When I meet such people I am always amazed. For me as an Indian, yes my currency doesn’t translate to economic freedom but the thought of travelling the world at 18 was marvelous. I’m happy to see many young people do that now, to explore the world on their own. For many of us, we remain trapped in our fears. At 18, I couldn’t think of leaving my home without explaining where I was going, let alone the world.

I know that I’ve barely travelled, and I don’t look at it as a competition. Some people I meet are on a mission to experience everything possible. The FOMO peeps also teach me a lot as well. There is no harm in being still sometimes and embracing what we have and deriving immense enjoyment from whatever we have.

Existence is a privilege. If you have a roof, food, clothes and some more for frivolities. Consider yourself fortunate and in the privileged. I always now practice deep gratitude for whatever I have in my life.

We eat, drink and explore Leh. Sharing conversations, insights, exchanging cultural idiosyncrasies. The old city of Leh comprises of some spectacular pieces of architecture. The buildings are made completely from natural materials (mud, wood, stones, limestone) – my first introduction to sustainable techniques of building. I was slowly getting interested in such aspects and Janos was a wonderful guide through the city.

I had the opportunity to go to the old palace. Above it was the monastery (they love putting those in the highest and toughest places to reach. Pretty symbolic for life if you ask me). I had a beautiful moment there and it means a lot in my life. It was the birth of something new in me. The past few years before that moment there was plenty happening in my life. This was the ultimate let out. The view was just so overwhelming for me. 

Tilli joined me later. She and I were enjoying our conversations. I was learning so much about life in Italy. She was teaching me some Italian as well. For her, this journey meant a lot and I found an amazing friend in her. Maybe even family.

We now prepare for the next leg of the journey to Zangla. This will be the next upcoming blog. 
If this is your first time here, check out my previous blog article to get a better idea about what is going one here.

 Did you connect with anything in particular? Please do share, this is an open space and I always love hearing stories from others about their journeys.

If you’re interested in donating to Csoma’s Room, you can do it here: http://csomasroom.org/en/support-us/

They’re doing some amazing work and need all the support they can get! More on this in the next blog article. Hope you enjoyed this one!