15th July 08
I am still in a stupor as Amritha tries to wake me up frantically. Its 3: 45 am already, and the flight is at 5. The urgency of her voice jerks the body into motion. Prodding her to call the cab service I get dressed and ready. The act bring back memories of the days gone by when this use to be a monthly routine. Eyes are still heavy and the walk out of memory when complaints of an irritated cab driver, apparently he went back after ringing the door bell umpteen times, fall on deaf ears. Doorbell, if the alarm, set on the cell phone that was all the while next to the pillow, wasn’t loud enough, how was the gargle of a door bell expected to rise above the din of the AC and wake me up. Life’s little mercies, airport is just a ten minutes drive from the residence. I am there at ten minutes past four and as I walk towards the terminal, post paying up the cab driver, who lives up to the reputation of Delhi cab/auto drivers, by arguing for more than what was agreed upon and succeeds in receiving only a disgusted albeit a sleepy look and the pre-decided fare, there are no emotions as the mind is still craving for sleep. Airline staff is polite as my pleas for a window seat elicit only a professional apology . Its an aisle seal next to a Caucasian couple who barely look out of their teens . Flight’s a blur as the neck endures constant jerks, all induced by trying to catch up sleep without resting it on a window pane, sights of the Himalayas are missed and so is the approach to the runway at Leh, an experience a Frenchman would later tell me is not to be missed. As the airbus hits the tarmac it feels as if it has landed on one our national highways in the state of Uttar Pradesh, anywhere between Varansai and Allahbad, take your pick. The aircraft shakes and jerks at landing pace and a few nervous passengers start clapping. As I walk down the stairs I have my first view of the barren mountains, that make up for the landscape, army equipment and construction work, the other constants in most parts of the region. Waiting for the luggage at the carousal , I have time to read that I am the Kushak Bakula Rimpoche terminal of the Leh airport, it was inaugurated by the first Sikh prime minister of the republic, no that’s not the way they have put it there, its his name on the stone, and that photography is prohibited . As I walk out Ms Tashi Cho and makes an entry with her helper and no waiting is needed as I am on my way to Fort road and Harmony Guest House, my residence for my eleven day sojourn. Ms. Cho is just the way Arun had explained her to me. She is a likeable lady in her sixties and her helper is Dolkar, a teenager from Manali. Ms. Cho use to work for Save the Children charity and is still a frequent traveler to Delhi. She hails from an upcountry village and her spoken English is fluent and there is a Stan C connection. Her salary account use to be with us and she still has an account with the CP branch. Her delight in the knowledge that I work for the bank is obvious and she mentions problems she is having in managing her account from Leh. Assurances are in order as I promise to help her with her account next time she is in Delhi. Pleasant surprises are in store as I realize my cell phone company does not provides any sort of network coverage or share a network with another company. The phone is going to be a phone book for the next eleven days. The room meets my qualification criteria for a good room, it has a clean loo cum bathroom attached and the linen is fresh and am told will be changed every day. Breakfast done its time to hit the sack. I am woken up for lunch after a quarter of the day is gone. Head is pounding and am told my body will take time to adjust. I am now two and a quarter of a mile above sea level. Its more sleep. Time for evening tea and to start using the latest purchase in Delhi, actually a gift from Amritha, sundry talk of weather in Leh and how its changing with Ms. Cho. Its time for dinner. I am not having trouble breathing but somebody is playing hammer and tongs in my head. I think that’s because I have overslept, Ms. Cho thinks it’s the onset of high altitude sickness. She substantiates her diagnosis with tales of people who had to be evacuated to the plains because they could not recover from similar symptoms. She urges caution and low levels of physical activity. Suits me for I am ready to sleep out the night like a log.
