The famous and beautiful rhododendrons were beginning to appear. Unlike Yumthang valley, which is famous for rhododendron shrubs, this place had dwarfed rhododendron trees growing under the aegis of taller pines and deodars. The trail was relentless still and a short section of plain land or a descent was enough to lift our spirits. It would inadvertently make P pull out his camera, while N would catch the hint and smoothly get her disheveled locks in place, put on her Gucci sunglasses, clear the non-existent dust from her ever-shining, red and white Tommy Hilfiger pullover and be ready for a pose, even before P could decide a nice spot for a picture. I would simply hop in the picture, and later, return favors by taking P’s picture, the integrating factor of all pictures being The Tilted Head with me or P, somewhere in the background.
Three hours into the day and it looked like me, P and N were all losing steam to the altitude. Exhausted completely, we asked every passerby how far Pethang, our next camping ground was. And then to our delight, we saw a familiar figure. The tea-boy of our group appeared from the woods ahead of us with a kettle, climbing down towards us at brisk pace. Our delight multiplied when we realized that he had not just hot tea but biscuits too and that the camping ground was not more than an hour away. We lapped up the hot drink and thought we were ready for another hour-long battle. The tea-boy, meanwhile, went further down to meet Z, S and Sujoy. Unfortunately, Z’s health couldn’t hold on any longer. She decided to retreat back to Tsokha and wait for us to return victorious. Sachin decided to keep her company like a true old friend.
Reaching Pethang after another hour, we rested happily and waited for lunch to be served. But the irony is, the more you rest, the easier it is to catch cold. Meanwhile, after a long time, the exquisite singer in me had woken up too (talent and modesty, always a winning combination - Ed). Although the cold was had reached deep into our bones, I and P still had the spirits to sing our hearts out loud while Nandini did what she knew the best.
Evening mist approached and we braced ourselves with layers of clothing to keep the Cold monster away. With nightfall, we burrowed into our sleeping bags in the tent and P started his daily ritual of applying Volini at every possible joint in the body. I resorted to a hot water bag which was of great help to my lower back.
It rained for a while at night, or maybe it was a hailstorm, we didn’t bother to venture out of our tents to discover. The bells around the necks of the yaks and horses clanged continuously as they ate their fodder and I slipped into oblivion.
By,
Gaurav Jain
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