The Inquisitive Flaneur

I froze. All around me, the December snow fell in soft chunks. I was standing 14,140 feet above sea level, just outside the Harbhajan Baba temple. As I surveyed the distant snow-clad mountains, Indian soldiers climbed up the hill, one by one, barefoot, just to visit the temple.

Harbhajan Singh was an officer in the Indian military who passed away while bringing Army supplies through a treacherous glacier. Legend was, that even after death, he protected soldiers and villagers in the dangerous nooks of the Himalayas, warning Indian forces during their battles with China.

This was Nathu La, the home of faith and bravery, and the strategic mountain pass that connected India with China's Tibet region. No one knew when a war would break out. Or the weather would go nuts. That is why, civilians needed to have special permit to visit this region.

Which we did not have.

As we came down Baba's shrine, the weather's mood had darkened. The Indian soldiers invited us to tea. We had boiling hot tea, that froze by the time it reached our cups, deliciously crispy sweet 'Amritis', and pakodas. This was followed by a mad dash to the car.

As our SUV sped across the slippery terrain, the world behind us started crumbling down, straight from some post-apocalyptic movie. Our windscreen wipers tirelessly swept away balls of snow that kept on getting bigger by the minute. Our driver hurried. The check posts were being shut down one by one due to bad weather. We could be trapped. Everytime we crossed a check post, we thanked our stars.

Twice, the SUV skid. Once, a policeman stopped us on road to see our Nathu La permit. When he saw we didn't have any, he reprimanded the driver. His argument was that tourists might not know better but how could the driver take such a risk? Who would be responsible if something happened to us? Even in the midst of calamity, this government official's concern touched us. We felt bad for our driver who had warned us and was now doing his best to take us to safety. Thankfully the officer let us go with just a warning. And what about bribe, you ask? Not even a penny. The honesty of Sikkim policemen awed us.

It was dark now as the SUV navigated by skilled hands, rushed swiftly through the mountains. Soon, we began to see green forests. This meant we were close to Gangtok. Finally we reached. It was pitch black when we returned to our hotel. The clock however showed 6:30pm.

"Wanna go again?" My sister joked.
"Anyday", I smiled. Best trip ever.