The Other Side: Dare To Visit Alone?

by Faraaz Kazi

  The Other Side

  195

  Shalini's pregnancy a month later. The firm had made rapid progress under his able stewardship and had grown at almost the same rate as Shalini's belly. Gradually, they had forgotten about the bizarre happenings in the jungle and thoughts about the curse had faded from their minds, dismissing the events as unnecessary fear caused by some village folklore and an encounter with a peculiar species. They had not uttered about the incident to anyone back home, fearing ridicule. The only anxious moment in the pregnancy had been when Shalini had gone into premature labour that morning.

  “The baby has grown well and I am sure there will be no problems after the delivery,” the doctor had assured them as he admitted her for a cesarean.

  Sanath checked his watch nervously as he looked at the red light glowing outside the operation theatre. “It's been well over a couple of hours,” he thought. “I guess I'll get the news any moment now!” he said to himself. The light went off even as he was looking at it and the O.T. door opened slowly. A nurse walked out of the room and beckoned him to come close.

  “The doctor is calling you inside the O.T.,” she whispered.

  Sanath's nervousness increased. “God, please let it be good news,” he prayed.

  The doctor was waiting for him in the anteroom. Sanath tried to read the expression on her face but the inscrutable eyes looking at him above the surgical mask gave nothing away.

  “Doc, is Shalini okay?”

  “Oh yes, Sanath, she is… she is fine!”

  “Have I become a father?”

  “I… I believe so.”

  “That is great! Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “Well Sanath,” the doctor hesitated. “It's a bit difficult to explain. In twenty years of obstetrics, I have seen nothing like this.” She made up her mind and spoke again. “I can't explain this one. You have to see it for yourself.”

  She held his elbow and guided him to the next room. Sanath followed, feeling the nervousness creep in again.

  “Your child,” she pointed at the creature beside an unconscious Shalini on the cot.

  Sanath stood staring stunned into silence by the thing that was looking back at him through expressionless large black eyes. The baby was huge by human standards. It had a bear-like face and its shriveled brown skin was covered in a blanket of grey hair.

  “You see, the strangeness of my case is that now I no longer fear the invisible, I'm terrified by reality.”

  ¯ Jean Lorrain

  The Mystery Lake

  T

  he mist lifted gradually and the mysterious water body appeared before his spellbound eyes. The pearl shaped lake was partially frozen and appeared pendant-like from the distance. There wasn't a blade of grass visible on its shores and most of it consisted of black rocks interspersed with snow. Magnificent ice covered peaks formed a spectacular but formidable background in the distant horizon. He tried to breathe but the rarefied air was so chilled that every breath was an effort. The bone chilling temperature increased exponentially as the wind assaulted his body, making him shiver like a leaf in the wind as the sky darkened overhead.

  Ravi trembled in his sleep and searched for his comfortable eiderdown with half-open eyes. He could not find it; and that woke him up fully. He realised that the quilt had fallen off from the bed. He retrieved it, acknowledging the fact that he had been dreaming again. The same mysterious mountains, the partially frozen lake, the dipping temperature and the nerve chilling cold which appeared almost realistic had been haunting him at regular intervals. The place in his dreams seemed familiar yet he was sure that he had never visited such a place in his life or even caught a glimpse of a similar photograph anywhere. Then why did it appear in his dreams again and again? His sleep benumbed mind refused to think beyond that and he went back to sleep.

  The image of the frozen lake persisted in his mind for the next few days and the more he thought about it, the nagging ache at the back of his head worsened but if he tried not to think about it, then too the curiosity was hard to resist. Ravi decided to find out if such a place actually existed or was it a creation of his resourceful mind! He wondered how to go about it and then suddenly he had a brainwave while sitting on the table in the study room. He decided to run an image search on Google and booted the computer. Running an image search for 'mountain lakes,' Ravi smiled at his own idea. The search threw up about a million images and he scanned the pages one by one. He stared at the screen till his eyes hurt but he could not find an image that resembled the one in his recurrent dreams.

  He then changed the key words to 'frozen lakes' and repeated the entire exercise but the result was the same. He could not find a similar image to what had been plaguing his brain. He then tried 'Himalayan lakes' but the search bore no fruit. He sighed and followed it up with a groan as he rubbed his eyes vigorously.

  'What is the first word that comes to mind when I look at the image?' he asked himself.

  “Hmmm, I can't say… it is such a mystery, this image,” he mouthed. And then suddenly he gasped and clicked his fingers together. Yes, that was the word. The image was strange and the lake was a mystery to him, one that he needed to get to the bottom of. So, for the last attempt, he entered 'mystery lakes' and waited as the page reloaded. The last image on page two of the search results looked somewhat like the lake that appeared in his dreams.

  “Bingo!” Ravi was thrilled to see an actual photograph of the lake from his dreams. “This place actually exists. It is not a creation of my imagination. But why do I keep dreaming of it?”

  He would worry about that later but before that he needed to browse through the details of the mysterious lake. He found that the place from his dreams was none other than the Roopkund Lake in the Himalayas. The name sounded familiar and he vaguely remembered some school stories associated with the name. He ran another Google search for 'Roopkund Lake' and went through the matter the search threw up.

  As he went through the details, he remembered the school lore associated with Roopkund Lake. Roopkund Lake, also known as 'the skeleton lake' because of the discovery of a large number of skeletons on its shores long back, had been a favourite trekking destination for the boys of his school till around ten years back and was a must on the adventure menu of every batch. But twelve years ago on a trekking expedition, a landslide had killed all the five students who were climbing the slippery hills beyond. Next year, another team had attempted to reach it but had to abandon the attempt due to inclement weather. The year after that, a team of three boys from the school had successfully trekked to the lake but on return two of them had fallen seriously ill and the third student, who had been a topper all his life had flunked the board exams. A myth of sorts had grown around the lake of misfortune, as it had come to be known in the school; and no student had attempted the trek after that.

  Roopkund became a bit of an obsession with him from that day. From making an occasional appearance in his dreams it started dominating every waking moment of his. He felt a strange pull for the mysterious lake in the Himalayas which was associated with myriad myths and had made unsolicited and repeated appearance in his dreams. He did some more research and the more he read about it, more did it come to haunt him. He discussed the matter with Vikram, his best friend. Vikram was a hardnosed, pragmatic and practical person. He had a simple solution for the problem.

  “Dude, why don't we trek to Roopkund in the Diwali vacations? We'll take a look at your mystery lake and I am sure visiting it will satiate your curiosity as well as end your obsession for the lake,” Vikram suggested.

  “That is a great idea. Let me talk to the headmaster about it,” Ravi said.

  Next day, he met the headmaster and told him that he and a few others wanted to trek to Roopkund Lake.

  “Hmm! Roopkund, the skeleton lake. This used to be a favoured destination for our students before it acquired a sinister reputation in this school. Young man, if you want to break the school myth you have my permission and m
y blessings,” the head master said.

  The SUV they had hired at Kathgodam drove up the serpentine roads and deposited them at Loharjung many bone jarring hours later. The team of four boys, though blessed with the natural resilience of youth, was exhausted by the time they reached Loharjung. The team leader, Vikram took over the responsibility of finding them porters, mules and making arrangements that would ensure an early start the next day. Once all that was done, they had supper and decided to sleep early. Ravi's heartbeats started behaving erratically as the image in his mind stared becoming clearer. He couldn't quite fathom the reason for it and soon closed his eyes.

  The trek started early the next day. “We will follow the Lord

  Curzon Trail to Neelganga, which is mostly downhill. Once we cross the river at Raun Bagad, we ascend to the village Didna, which is our destination for the day,” Vikram announced.

  They set off through the thick forest mostly populated by rhododendrons, pine, birches and fir trees; alive to the sounds of birdcalls. Ajay, a keen bird watcher, was delighted and would often stop to point out various birds. Sahil, their fourth companion and a keen photographer, did not speak much and preferred to use his digital camera to capture the images.They crossed a few dry streams and came upon a pair of unusual creatures. Though much bigger in size, the black and yellow mongoose like creatures ran up and down tree trunks with amazing grace and dexterity. Sahil tried to get a close up of the animals but they were too swift and he had to be satisfied with a few long shots. “Yellow bellied martens!” Vikram enlightened the others. “I have seen them earlier at Corbett.”

  Two hours into the trek, they spotted the Kulling Village. They crossed a large stream that seemed cool and inviting and took a well-deserved rest. They moved further and came to a fork on the road. Vikram was about to turn right when someone patted him from behind.

  “Hey, that is the wrong turn. We need to take the smaller trail which will take us to the wooden bridge over Neel Ganga,” Ravi informed.

  “How do you know that?” Vikram challenged.

  “I don't know how but I am sure that is the way,” Ravi shrugged.

  They decided to take the smaller trail and some ten minutes later they were at the river. An iron bridge spanned the gorge while the river flowed serenely below it.

  “You were right,” Vikram acknowledged. “You have been reading up on the trek. But why did you say wooden bridge? This is an iron bridge.”

  “No! I haven't been reading about this. But somehow, I just knew. This waterfall seems familiar,” he said pointing to a waterfall in the distant where milky water crashed down the hill to join the river. “But I can't get rid of the feeling that there was a wooden bridge here.” He shook his head in bewilderment.

  They crossed the bridge and started the stiff climb to Didna. They were at their destination in another two hours and flopped down on the grass at the campsite, their aching limbs crying for some respite. Half of the group immediately started erecting the cloth tents and rolled their sleeping bags on the ground.

  The large group of people climbed uphill at a sedate pace. A sizeable number of porters formed the beginning of the column. The horseback riders were next. The palanquin bearers came after them, their legs swinging in unison, as they negotiated the uneven ground, never losing balance and ensuring a comfortable ride for the ladies ensconced in the ornate interiors of the squares on their shoulders. The mules and still more porters consisted of the rearguard. The sixteen year old boy had renounced his seat atop the horse and he walked easily, while taking in the sights with wide eyed innocence of the youth. They came to a place in the wood where the trail forked. They took the smaller trail and were soon in sight of the river. A wooden bridge spanned the gorge while a waterfall cascaded down the hill at a distance.

  The Other Side

  205

  Ravi stirred in his sleep, and woke up. He realised that he had been dreaming again. He marveled at the vividness of the dream and puzzled over its significance. However, fatigue took precedence and soon he was back in slumber land.

  The next day they took the trail to Tolpani. The trail led them through thick oak forests. Dried leaves crunched under their hiking boots but the climb was steep. They reached Tolpani and took a well-deserved breather. As they started again they realised that the gradient had become steeper and the jungle thicker. They reached Tolkaan and paused again. The climb became gentler and they trekked briskly till they reached the top of the ridge that marks the beginning of one of the largest grasslands in India, the twin Ali and Bedni Bugyals. They stared in delight at the endless expanse of green extending in all directions. The white cauliflower like cumulous clouds contrasted with the deep blue of the sky while small bright blue wild flowers peeked at them from the sea of green grass ahead. Horses grazed on the meadows while foals gamboled around, making the scene look like it was lifted out of some fairy tale. The distinctive outline of the snow covered Trishul peak loomed at a distance. While the rest of the team took off their shoes and ran barefoot on the grass, Ravi stared at the Trishul peak. He was seeing it for the first time in his life but the trident shaped structure seemed uncannily familiar. And then the scene from his dream played before his subconscious eyes. There stood the Trishul peak in the background, no difference whatsoever from the sight in front of his physical being.

  They camped at the end of Bedni Bugyal and hit the sleeping bags early, hoping for a timely start the next day.

  The boy watched as the bonfires were lit and the musicians took their place. Food and drink were being prepared far from the scene of action. The bejewelled dancing girls emerged from the tents, dressed in colourful clothes. The tall man who appeared to be the figure of authority sat on a comfortable cushion and enjoyed the performance, while consuming plentiful wine. He was dressed in silken robes and wore a turban with a large ruby buried deep in the front. The light of the stone threw a reddish shadow over those who sat around the makeshift arena in a circle while the servants plied them with food and drink. The festivities went on till late night. The boy was soon tired of all this and wandered off to his tent to sleep. Something disturbed him and he stirred in his sleep.

  Ravi woke up suddenly. He was momentarily disoriented, wondering where he was and what was happening. He heard the rain drumming against the tent and remembered that he was on his way to Roopkund, and they had camped at Bedni Bugyal for the night. He was wide awake now and listened to the incessant rhythm of the rain. He recalled each and every detail of his recent dream and wondered why they were getting more and more vivid as they moved further along the trek.

  The rain vanished as suddenly as it had appeared and they moved early after sipping on the cold water in their flasks. They trekked hard, reaching Patar Nacahuniby lunchtime.

  “Funny name.” Vikram said, “Let me ask the porters why this place is named so.”

  The Other Side

  207

  “This place has a centuries old legend associated with it. A king was making the pilgrimage to Nanda Devi with his entourage. He was travelling with his queens, musicians, servants and dancing girls. This displeased the deity and she turned the dancing girls into rocks. Some say that she pushed them into patal-lok, leaving several depressions in the ground. In fact, some of them are present even now,” the sturdy man replied. For some reason, Ravi frowned but he refrained from commenting on it.

  They pushed on again, and arrived at the temple of Kalu Vinayak. After offering the mandatory prayers to the black Ganesha idol, they moved further towards Bhagwabasa. They hit the snowline immediately afterwards and the air became thin and bitingly cold. They rubbed both palms vigorously and flexed their legs lest they turn numb from the cold. They reached their destination just before sundown, absolutely exhausted from the titanic effort. They decided to stay in the stone huts offered by the local villagers instead of the tents with the hope that they would provide some respite from the biting cold.

  The boy turned back to take one last look at
the frozen lake. They were moving up the steep mountainside. The rough track they were following meandered upwards through black rocks and patches of snow. The air was thin, the cold gnawing at their bones as they exerted with strain. The group of people moved slowly, already exhausted, even though this leg of their journey had just begun. Dark clouds floated and swirled about, almost touching them. The wind increased the intensity of its ruthless attack; the temperature plummeted, making it almost impossible to move. The tall man in the turban signaled a stop and the column halted. The clouds turned thicker and darker. Then it started to rain. The huge raindrops fell on the hapless group, who were caught on the open slope without any shelter. “It can't get any worse,” thought the boy, as he was completely drenched by the merciless deluge. Almost as a response to his thoughts, the skies laughed at him showering hailstones upon the group. Initially, they were small in size but the speed in which they descended was tremendous. There was nothing to do but to bear the punishment stoically. Yet their meek acceptance of the punishment did nothing to assuage the fury of the nature. The wind howled and screamed, the air temperature dropped further and the size of the hailstones increased dramatically. The tennis-ball sized hailstones hit them mercilessly on their heads, face, neck, hands and legs. One by one they collapsed, to answer the call of death on that narrow icy ledge. Some fell down to their deaths in the valley beneath, their screams submerged under the combined synergy of the bellow of the wind, the thunder of the hailstones and the torment of their companions. The boy buried his head in his arms as he tried to find some kind of shelter behind a large rock; but there was no respite. But the sky showed no mercy. The hailstones came down thick and hard, battering his head and coloring the surrounding white blanket with a deep red shade. Suddenly he stopped feeling the pain. He felt a wonderful warmth course through his body as his soul was set free and he soared above, watching the scene of carnage with curious detachment.