Backtracking: My tryst with the Himalayas

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November 2006, I made my first big solo trip. All my savings and years of scheming were directed at one thing; to see...no to walk in the Himalayas. I chose to do it the grand way by joining the Himalayas Institute of Mountaineering. A 28 day course with lodging, food and the best guides possible and 10 days of roughing it out in the real mountains for Rs. 5000 (500USD for foreigners) is a deal hard to find. It was this trip that set the course to where I am now. I wrote a long piece about it for friends and family shortly after completing the piece but never posted it. So here it is now. Dug up from old dusty forgotten files. Nice to look back at my rather juvenile scribbles. Dali's been giving me the space to do many things I've meant to do but never got down to. You might spot my mom's edits as well. I was always tardy bout corrections.

Of Mountain Peaks and Taming Wild Women

From all I can remember I’ve always borne a tag of being wilful, headstrong, reckless, audacious and wild. The last two additions from an old chemistry teacher of mine in high school who for no reason, or so I’d (I) like to think, took an intense dislike to me and tried her best to get me expelled and when that failed, succeeded in instilling in me a lifelong dread for all things equable, linear and react-able. Whether that has seeped into the metaphorical boundaries of my psyche is still a probable thought. But this narration isn’t to be about grudges and childhood traumas that die hard (delete) but about the time I scaled a 16, 500 ft peak and felt like a manly king, all gender misallocation deliberate.

Two years short of a decade since high school, with a job and capricious earnings that paid enough to develop an extremely detrimental but incredibly fun lifestyle, I was loathe to admit that I was manifesting all that my teacher had once said and now to make matters worse, the strain here was familial. In my defence I’d like to plead that the city was choking me out. The everyday din and clamour of veering through life in the burgeoning supposedly IT capital of India is one, for many, that can only be countered by regular intervals spent quenching dry throats and desiccated existences. I had enough. I was opting out for a while and heading to the mountains to sweat out some wildness in clear air. And that’s how I made it to the reception area of the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute and almost got turned back.

My decision to join the basic mountaineering course had been a long entertained one, constantly shoved aside because I knew I was in no physical shape. While my parents and certain friends dismissed it as another harebrained reckless ploy to escape home, which I admit I gave them reason to believe, I was perhaps for the first time in my life utterly convinced that I had to set this goal and get down to it without any romantic notions. The only conviction within me was that no matter what, I’ll be returning to the hills that were once a home I loved and the mountains beyond which have always filled me with a wistful childlike awe. Funnily during this time a song that spurred me on to action was Nick Drake’s Northern Sky. Yes, it was a morose recluse of a world weary British folk singer who lived and died in seclusion in the 60’s who affirmed my quest to search out my northern sky.

After diligently downloading applications, mailing them and receiving my confirmation of vacancy, I got down to serious training. Cycling fourteen kilometers to and back from the Kanteerva Stadium artificial climbing wall where I spent an hour every day. This new schedule meant I couldn’t go out with my friends as much and with my parents eyeing me sceptically, I must admit I felt quite isolated. I persevered though, to my own surprise, and after a long solo journey beset with a few lecherous crude men, I made it to Darjeeling where I was to face my biggest emotional and physical challenge as a girl to date.

It seems due to some administrative and information error on the website from where I got my forms, I had been accidentally enrolled into an all men’s course. When bluntly told it was impossible for me to join, that was the closest I’ve come to being completely distraught. Waving my vacancy confirmation around and trying my best to keep my voice from quavering, I demanded to talk to higher management while shrilly insisting there was no way I was going back. Soon I was ushered into the vice-principle’s office and though I try my best not to hold any ill-will, I was subject to one of the most chauvinist speeches in my life.

He started from how it was impossible for me as a girl on all grounds including weather, temperature and high altitude factors, to participate in the course. I was informed a tad too late maybe, that the November- December course, for which I had applied, was specifically scheduled for only men since conditions are a little too rough for my gender. All doubts that I could complete the course which had already been assuaging me (unclear expression) were brought to the fore-front. Trying to disguise my apprehension from the preliminary argument, I cited the fact that I had quit my job and sweated months shaping up and obstinately insisted that this was my only chance to join the course and that I’d still like to try inspite of all the repercussions and no way was I going to allow them to shift me to a ladies course at a much later date. (sentence too long, like Paul’s epistles. Cut into shorter sentences & sharpen them).

I had one trump card, my confirmation letter and that’s all I had to play and my wilful stubbornness which so far had never been much of a help. The man in front of me then switched his tactics. From prophesying physical gloom and doom he then spoke of mental strain and solitary anguish which was sure to be my fate when surrounded by only men in the lofty lonely heights of the Himalayas. I breezed that off with a quick retort that I was seeking that solitude.

It was then I felt a twinge of genuine concern in the man. He had a point to make when he noted that there would be men from all over the country and the world with no background history and many of them recruits from the army not at all used to seeing women. And there’s no telling what might happen once we’re far from all civilization. He just about stepped short of mentioning rape. At this point my defenses nearly broke down and even though I pride myself on being a tough hardy female, I couldn’t help a tear slide down as I declared braver than what I felt inside that no way could they be that bad if they willingly came to learn more about the mountains and plus at the worst they can’t be worse then the men I had already handled on my long journey up.

I cringe till today when I remember my voice gagging. Tears they say are a woman's biggest weapon and I as feminists before me, have begged to differ. But there I was close to sobbing trying to prove I was capable and tough enough to face rough mountains and the man actually relented. I was asked to sign an indemnity form stating I was willingly undertaking the course against the institute’s wishes and that I was to in no way hold them responsible in case of any outwardly (untoward) incident. On their part, they provided me with a female instructor for company.

The pre-training was in no way easy and I had to strain till my last ragged breath to keep up with the boys especially during early morning up-hill jogs. There was a glowing satisfaction about not being the last in a group that consisted of recruits in various stages of military training, two foreigners, a couple of navy lieutenants of varying ranks and a few private candidates. The instructors turned out to be a friendly bunch who didn’t completely see eye to eye with the vice-principle regarding my case and were fully confident I could complete the course. I was more skeptical after a particularly bad run I couldn’t complete. The rigorous training continued and in about a week’s time we found ourselves trekking along the route from densely forested Yuksom in Sikkim which is at an altitude of 1780m to the windswept barren lofty height of the HMI base camp Chowrikang, 4380m above sea level.

Along the way I learnt first hand for the first time that when guts and gall fail its sheer tenacity that keeps you moving. There were many times along the way you were so tired and weary with backpacks decidedly getting heavier that you were struck with the absurdity of it all. There were other quiet victorious moments when I’d hear some guys groan and smirk at thoughts of all I had heard from the vice-principle. To add to this was the sight of him jauntily crossing us without a single baggage on his body (that being borne by assigned sherpas) only to catch up with him again after toiling uphill with our cumbersome backpacks that held all we required for field training.

So it was after ten days of training in the finer intricacies of snow and ice craft and no untoward incident except for a bout of severe bowel fluctuations, I found myself clambering up B.C Roy peak for my final test. Once I reached the summit which at 16,500 ft has been the highest point I’ve reached in my life, I felt a slow sinking in of relief that I had completed the test and an odd pensive pride that I had faced and overcome a few odds as a women. Looking around at the assortment of guys who had become my friends as they arranged themselves around me to pose for the summit snap, I couldn’t help but think, “I feel like a manly king”.

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Comments

[anonymous]

if possible, try heading over to tailing/silung. apparently is one of the places the mizos/hmars might be from. when i checked on google maps, 'tailing' resolved to 'qujing', and is about 500 km away from you, on the other side of kunming.

[Ashok Kumar Ganguly]

Amazed
Hi Pearly! I just read thru your bio and could not believe the things you have done! Pretty awesome. Anyways, it is good to know that something very offbeat worked out for you. I am bookmarking your blog, and you can be assured of one more regular reader.. Godspeed! ... Ashok

[neville]

good one
Nice going manly king!!