Footprints on the Mountainside

This is a memory from a long time ago. Way before I figred out the internet beyond checking mail.

I was living in the high pastures with my herd of horses. The winter had been rough, and I was just camping out in the high altitude pastures where we leave them for the summers, supplementing their diet with some grain, to help them catch on on their health a bit faster.

The days were pretty idle. Feeding the horses a couple of times a day was
no pain - they used to come happily enough for the treat. Beyond that…. not much to do. Cooking, enjoying the paradise I was living in, early to bed, early to rise.

Occupation came in an unexpected way. A gaddi camp was passing by, planning to camp a little higher than the pasture we were in. I recognised the shepherd, and invited him for a cup of tea. When he saw me, he decided to camp near our camp itself.

Over a cup of tea, I realized why.

A filly of his, had been attacked by a bear a week ago, and had been hurt badly. Originally, believing that she would die anyway, he hadn’t taken her to a vet. But she hadn’t yet died. She was in a bad way, with her wounds infected, and was struggling to keep up with the moving camp, to follow her mother. This was creating a problem, as the mare used to keep waiting for her, and slowing the caravan.

I had already gained a solid reputation as an animal lover, and my animals were often a point of interet for local livestock owners for the glowing condition I used to maintain them in. Plus, I was gaining a reputation as an enthusiastic “onofficial vet” from the knowledge of animal medicine I used to gather for the well-being of my horses in a land where vets were not easily available, and often very far from the place of need.

He wanted me to take a llook at the filly and see if there was any hope
for her, as well as see if she could be put down, if there wasn’t. I refused flat out to put her down, as I am not of the opinion that animals should be killed when they are fighting to recover. Plus I lacked the kind of knowledge and equipment it would take to put her down. I agreed to take a look and see what I could do for her.

We went out into the pasture and unloaded his horses to set up camp and then look for the filly. She was in a bad way. She was sleeping, exhausted at the end of the pasture without even coming to join the herd, once she saw that they had halted.

We got her up and brought her up to my tent and tied her in front of it. I started to take a goot look at her and see what it was that I was up against.

She was a beautiful, black filly. Three months old. lovely body structure - she would have made a fine mare when she grew up, if she survived this scenario. Her rump and neck was covered with deep gashes from the bear’s claws, and a week of neglect had allowed infection to settle in. Most of the gashes had developed pus, and a couple had maggots in them. My whole being recoiled at the thought of having to clean up this mess.

If I had to save this filly, I had to do it, no matter how repulsive it was. I felt a surge of anger at the shepherd for neglecting her treatment like that, and vented my fury in choice words, yelling at him and his wife for being callous to the very animals that made their livelihood possible.

The filly stood there shivering from the early morning air and her exhaustion.

I made the couple promise to rest in the pasture for at least a week, before I would touch the filly - it was pointless to begin something, if it wouldn’t be sustained. As an incentive, I praised the quality of
the filly, and asserted that she would become a very valuable animal and bring him good money and work very well, if she was helped to recover. This seemed to strike a note of interest.

I had some anitbiotic injections in my animal first-aid kit. I gave her a shot. She hardly noticed. Then I knew, that I had to get over my nausea and actually deal with those wounds, and took a look at my medical supplies. They were minimal. The anti-septic I had, would hardly deal with half the wounds she had before running out. The same with the creams. Now what? I shoved the supplies back into my sack, and kept only the bottle of phenyl. The rest would have to be home remidies (which was what I preferred in any case).

I made a strong solution of tea in a huge pot and used that to clean the wounds. Yes, I just plunged in, and cleaned them all thoroughly, pus, maggots and all, till the flesh showed clean. Some of the deeper wounds still harboured maggots - of that, I was sure, so I used some gauze soaked in phenyle on them to dress them. On the rest, I applied a light film of honey and stuffed them full with crushed garlic.

All done, I walked away from the tent area and puked.

The evening saw a repeat performance. On the next day, the maggot wounds were clean too, and they received the honey and garlic treatment, and by that evening, some of the lighter cuts had begun to heal, and the filly was acting more interested in life, and giving me trouble to catch for treatment But she seemed to understand that I was trying to help, so she flinched and nudged with her nose, if it hurt, but never tried to kick at me or hurt me in any way.

After that, I taught the couple how to do what I was doing, and told them that they would have to repeat this till ALL the wounds were healed, and that the filly could probably begin walking in a day or two.

They seemed to have got the point, and the two days were uneventful - so to say (not counting one of my fillies who seemed to be jealous of all the
attention this one was getting)

The time was up, and the gaddi camp moved on, and the filly became another memory, until a few years later, when I ran across the same gaddi again. There was a beautiful mare in his herd - the one I had treated. I recognised her instantly
and was happy for her. The couple put camp once more, to spend some time with me, and that evening, I was invited to a special dinner, where they thanked me with tears in their eyes for saving their beautiful mare.

Their animals also looked better cared for, since the last time. I was happy, that things had worked out well, and that they had developed some love and concern for the living factors in their “business”

Tagsanimals,first-aid,horses,memories,performanceare applied to this post

This is a particularly sweet memory from my life as a nomadic horsewoman in the mountains.

I lived in Manali, where it snows in the winter. Horsemen here rarely stable their horses, preferring to let them loose in the high altitude pastures in the summer, and tying them together at nights in the winter. The horses themselves are hardy, and I haven’t seen them ever come to any harm like this.

When it snows in Manali, all the Khampa and Kinnauri and often even local horsemen bring their horses down from the alpine meadows and migrate to the Mandi district, where it doesn’t snow, so that the horses can graze by day, and their costs of feeding are lower. They return to the higher areas in spring.
Horsemen come together in small groups for the journey, so that you often have a huge herd of about 50 horses migrating together. Manali to Mandi town is about a 4 day trek, and reaching the interior locations with adequate resources for horses takes another few days. Overall, the journey is about 6-7 days.

We used to travel by the highway and roads, so a huge herd of horses was out of the question in the day. The nights are a different story. The treacherous mountain road is deserted of vehicles by night, so this is when the caravans travel. It was a tough time, as we used to walk all night, and had camp work (cooking and other stuff) and grazing the horses to see to by day. Hardly any time to rest.

But this was also a magical time. Just horse lovers and their precious horses in an age old journey. We used to time the journeys to coincide with full moon nights and a favourite song from my city days took on a whole new relevance. Bear with me, as I share it with you.

Thandi hawa yeh chandani suhani
Ae mere dil sunaa koi kahani
Lambisi ek dagar hai jindagani
Ae mere dil sunaa koi kahani

Mere dil, tu sunaa koi aisi dastaan
Jisko sunkar mile chain mujhe meri jaan
Manjil hai anjaani…….

This cool breeze, this moonlight is pleasing
Oh my heart tell me an (enchanting) story
Life is a long way
Oh my heart tell me an (enchanting) tale

Oh my heart, you tell me, such a tale
Listening to which I come to peace my love
And the destination is unknown…..
And it was like that….. the heart was full of pleasant emotions, as the horses and owners walked in the moonlit nights at peace with themselves…. in harmony….. toward a destination that was an integral part of life for a horse and owner in this part of the mountains.

Saare haseen najare
Sapnon mein kho gaye
Sar rakh ke aasmaan pe
Parvat bhi so gaye

All the beautiful sights around
Are lost in their world of dreams
With their heads cushioned in the sky
Even the mountains are sleeping

And it was like that……….. the world was a beautiful play of moonlight and shadows - a world in black and white - the snow covered mountain tops a very grey against the night. The world indeed seemed to be sleeping, as we walked along the deserted highway through deodar forests silhouetted against the moonlit night. The only sound was the hoofs of horses on the road, and the steady river flowing along.

Aise mein chal raha hun
Pedo ki chaao mein
Jaise koi sitaraa
Badal ke gaon mein

And thus I am walking
In the shadows of the trees
Like some star
In a village of clouds

hmmmm….. drifting along the road…. all night the men, the horses and the night and the journey through the evergreen forests

Thodi si raat beeti
Thodi si reh gayi
Khamosh rutu na jaane
Kya baat keh gayi

Some of the night has passed
Some of it remains
The silent season I know not
What it has said

And the nights….. yeah they passed bit by bit, withthe last kilometer never seeming to end. Its surprising how after walking for 30 km, the last half kilometer seems impossible. It happened everynight, as weary caravans came to open grounds to set camp for the day. Until the night……..

It is a time of my life that was so beautiful, that for all my life, a part of me will remain the simple horsewoman with her simple life and simple cares - away from the complex urban life - far away in the mountains.

Tagsadventure,animals,experience,high-altitude,Himalaya,horses,memories,mountain,travelare applied to this post

Heh. It’s a life long project. I’m 31 now, and I still don’t know what I want to become when I grow up. There are so many passions to indulge in. One life - so much to do. I’m making a note of my most wanted futures for this life time, in an attempt to get them on record. Regulars here know that this is subject to change - of course.

Yeah - so go on - yell at me for infecting your mind with these tempting little dreams and don’t blame me if you want to do these too.

1. I want to develop a small farm. Organic farming is something I am really interested in. I plan to build a spacious home on the property, which I will be using to run programmes in as well. This home is going to be constructed with natural materials. Mostly stone and mud with some wood. Planning to make the property self-sufficient in terms of energy needs. Solar power and bio gas for cooking, heating water, light and electricity. Perhaps wind/water mills for electricity as well. Totally organic produce, which will provide for most of the food requirements of the people living here. Horses and dogs complete the picture of course.
2. I want to become a mahaout and live a wandering life with my own elephant for at least 2 years. I don’t know much about elephants, but I’m a willing and hard worker, not to mention experience with other animals and a sharp brain. I will learn.
3. I want to raise my kid away from the stereotypical city attitude. Living in the city is fine, but there is a whole world to explore, and chips are not the tastiest food on the planet, television and films are not the best source of entertainment, and having fun need not always be noisy. I’d like my child to learn the value of living straight from the heart. The importance of running full power behind dreams that we are sure about. Yeah I know I don’t have a child yet, but that is a matter of time.
4. I want to put my memories on record. I’ve had some incredible experiences in my life, and am constantly advised by friends and family to write a book about them. I will. I don’t know how fascinating it will be, but I dare say its not going to be something that can be put down easily.
5. I want to do something really nice for the environment. It could be in the form of creating awareness of environmentally friendly options and responsibilities in far flung regions, or it could be working in a forest department to help conserve the resources and protect the animals or it could be something I haven’t thought about yet. But I will do it.
6. I want to get people tempted by solar cooking. Its really easy to build a solar cooker and it works to save a lot of money, natural resources, energy and effort. So why not. For those who don’t know, solar cooking uses heat from the sun to cook food. It is slow cooking, so the food doesn’t char and burn, and the utensils are really easy to clean quickly. The slow cooking retains most of the taste of the food and makes it really delicious. You can put food to cook and skip off to do your own thing for a couple of hours without haunting the kitchen or worrying about it boiling over, burning, or setting fire to something. You save electricity / gas / kerosene / wood / whatever you use for cooking. An efficient solar cooker is really cheap and quick to make, so if you need to cook more, you can simply make one or two more cookers. They can store flat and hardly take space when not in use. They can double up as a fridge at night (reversing the cooking process). If it gets old, you throw it out and make a new one, without worrying about the expenses. Tempting - isn’t it?

So much for now, but stay tuned to this page. I’m bound to drop in and make additions and revisions.

Tagsanimals,dogs,experience,general-stuff,horses,inspiration,memories,news,people,ponderings,quirky,self-improvement-journeyare applied to this post

This is a memory from a long time ago. Way before I figured out the internet beyond checking mail. This is a time when I was a nomadic horsewoman in the Himalaya.
I was living in the high pastures of the Kullu valley with my herd of horses. We were in the pastures below the Hampta Pass - about a 6 hour walk from Manali. The winter had been rough, and we were just camping out in the high altitude pastures where we leave them for the summers, supplementing their diet with some grain, to help them catch on on their health a bit faster.

What a place to be in! We were camped in the meadows at Juara. Alpine meadows - the air is crisp, the water is crystal clear and flows right through the pasture. A few empty stone structures that would later become nomadic tea stalls plus camps of herb gatherers dotted the scene, with sheer black cliffs rising on both sides in stark contrast with the lush comfort of the place. A place straight from some fantasy tale. Once could believe some nature spirits living here, particularly on moonlit nights, when the scene goes black and white, with the moonlight strong enough in places to register come colour. What a life - the horses living free around me, prancing with their improving condition. Pye, my bitch, by my side and the sounds of the stream for company.

The days were pretty idle. Feeding the horses a couple of times a day was no pain - they used to come happily enough for the treat. Beyond that…. not much to do. Cooking, enjoying the paradise I was living in, early to bed, early to rise. Perhaps an occasional visit to Sethan - the last village on this route, and the only fully Buddhist village in the entire Kullu valley, where my god-family lived. A timeless idyll.

Occupation came in an unexpected way. A gaddi camp was passing by, planning to camp a little higher than the pasture we were in. I recognised the shepherd, and invited him for a cup of tea. When he saw me, he decided to camp near our camp itself.

Over a cup of tea, I realized why.

A filly of his, had been attacked by a bear a week ago, and had been hurt badly. Originally, believing that she would die anyway, he hadn’t taken her to a vet. But she hadn’t yet died. She was in a bad way, with her wounds infected, and was struggling to keep up with the moving camp, to follow her mother. This was creating a problem, as the mare used to keep waiting for her, and slowing the caravan.

I had already gained a solid reputation as an animal lover, and my animals were often a point of interet for local livestock owners for the glowing condition I used to maintain them in. Plus, I was gaining a reputation as an enthusiastic “unofficial vet” from the knowledge of animal medicine I used to gather for the well-being of my horses in a land where vets were not easily available, and often very far from the place of need.

He wanted me to take a look at the filly and see if there was any hope for her, as well as see if she could be put down, if there wasn’t. I refused flat out to put her down, as I am not of the opinion that animals should be killed when they are fighting to recover. Plus I lacked the kind of knowledge and equipment it would take to put her down. I agreed to take a look and see what I could do for her.

We went out into the pasture and unloaded his horses to set up camp and then look for the filly. She was in a bad way. She was sleeping, exhausted at the end of the pasture without even coming to join the herd, once she saw that they had halted.

We got her up and brought her up to my tent and tied her in front of it. I started to take a good look at her and see what it was that I was up against.

She was a beautiful, black filly. Three months old, lovely conformation - she would have made a fine mare when she grew up, if she survived this scenario. Her rump and neck was covered with deep gashes from the bear’s claws, and a week of neglect had allowed infection to settle in. Most of the gashes had developed pus, and a couple had maggots in them. My whole being recoiled at the thought of having to clean up this mess.

If I had to save this filly, I had to do it, no matter how repulsive it was. I felt a surge of anger at the shepherd for neglecting her treatment like that, and vented my fury in choice words, yelling at him and his wife for being callous to the very animals that made their livelihood possible.

The filly stood there shivering from the early morning air and her exhaustion.

I made the couple promise to rest in the pasture for at least a week, before I would touch the filly - it was pointless to begin something, if it wouldn’t be sustained. As an incentive, I praised the quality of the filly, and asserted that she would become a very valuable animal and bring him good money and work very well, if she was helped to recover. This seemed to strike a note of interest.

I had some anitbiotic injections in my animal first-aid kit. I gave her a shot. She hardly noticed. Then I knew, that I had to get over my nausea and actually deal with those wounds, and took a look at my medical supplies. They were minimal. The anti-septic I had, would hardly deal with half the wounds she had before running out. The same with the creams. Now what? I shoved the supplies back into my sack, and kept only the bottle of phenyl. The rest would have to be home remidies (which was what I preferred in any case).

I made a strong solution of tea in a huge pot and used that to clean the wounds. Yes, I just plunged in, and cleaned them all thoroughly, pus, maggots and all, till the flesh showed clean. Some of the deeper wounds still harboured maggots - of that, I was sure, so I used some gauze soaked in phenyle on them to dress them. On the rest, I applied a light film of honey and stuffed them full with crushed garlic.

All done, I walked away from the tent area and puked.

The evening saw a repeat performance. On the next day, the maggot wounds were clean too, and they received the honey and garlic treatment, and by that evening, some of the lighter cuts had begun to heal, and the filly was acting more interested in life, and giving me trouble to catch for treatment But she seemed to understand that I was trying to help, so she flinched and nudged with her nose, if it hurt, but never tried to kick at me or hurt me in any way.

After that, I taught the couple how to do what I was doing, and told them that they would have to repeat this till ALL the wounds were healed, and that the filly could probably begin walking in a day or two.

They seemed to have got the point, and the two days were uneventful - so to say (not counting one of my fillies who seemed to be jealous of all the attention this one was getting)

The time was up, and the gaddi camp moved on, and the filly became another memory, until a few years later, when I ran across the same gaddi again. There was a beautiful mare in his herd - the one I had treated. I recognised her instantly and was happy for her. The couple put camp once more, to spend some time with me, and that evening, I was invited to a special dinner, where they thanked me with tears in their eyes for saving their beautiful mare.

Their animals also looked better cared for, since the last time. I was happy, that things had worked out well, and that they had developed some love and concern for the living factors in their “business”

Tagsadventure,animals,destinations,experience,experiential-learning,first-aid,high-altitude,Himalaya,horses,inspiration,memories,mountain,people,performance,reaching-out,trekkingare applied to this post

I travelled on a local train yesterday (its rare). In the ladies compartment, there was a bunch of about 12-14 Muslim girls chattering away to glory. All of them wearing a burkha. They were going on a picnic somewhere.

They seemed quite educated in terms of conversation, some topics even included affairs - typical girly stuff. Quite unexpected, considering their clothing, but it suddenly made me awake to the fact that they still were young college girls, with all the usual interests.

I got a call from a team member, about some equipment requirements for the AECS students programme, and had a brief discussion about mountaineering equipment and the set up we’d be using for the rappelling at Sanjay Gandhi National Park. One of the girls noticed and asked me about my profession. I explained the best I could, in terms of relevance to their interests. She was curious, and I elaborated in the directions she probed.

More girls caught on to this conversation and there was genuine interest about outdoor adventure. We spoke about adventure options near Mumbai including hikes to forts, mountaineering opportunities near Mumbai on the many forts and rafting possibilities. Most of them were keen to experience adventure, but some were apprehensive about the response they would get at home.

Surprisingly, a girl in full veil was completely gung-ho. She wanted to come on a rock climbing expedition. I was skeptical. Considering her clothes, i wouldn’t have thought that her family would allow her to pursue such “tomboyish” interests. She however was confident that her brother would also want to come along and seemed to think that together, they could convince her dad as long as other females were present as well.

I pointed out the clothing factor. Burkha is a definite no-no, as wearing a mountaineering harness makes trouser-type clothing essential. She said that she would wear trousers and a burkha on top, and simply remove her burkha when needed. After all, if she could trust someone with her life when she was climbing, surely she could trust the person not to have “evil intentions” about her for that short period of time. They all giggled uncomfortably at the thought.

This girl inspired me with her extremely practical approach. I saw in her a willingness to follow her dreams, while conforming to cultural expectations - an admirable combination of assertiveness and cultural identity. I doubt if I’ll even meet her again (she took a card, but the rest of her gang was not as sure about climbing). What remained with me, was her practical attitude. Somewhere down the line, we assume that people who are conservative also lack the spark it takes to go beyond standard expectations in hot pursuit of a desirable goal. This girl wore the burkha, bacause it was a cultural thing and she had grown up expecting it to be the clothing of a modest woman, but could see that here was something she really wanted to do, that did not allow it, and was equally willing to be practical, even if the idea seemed strange.

She had laughed when I said that the burkha looks confining to me “It is strange for you. For me, it is normal, like those aunties wearing saris everyday. I think they will wear salwar kameez, if they want to ride a horse on a hill station too. Why wouldn’t I?” Definitely progressive thought and a valuable insight into the mind of a “category” of people I was not very familiar with.

Tagsadventure,education,experience,horses,inspiration,mountain,outdoors,people,rafting,travelare applied to this post