Day 9: Lamayuru - Kargil - Drass

Each day's experiences shift you to different levels. I left Lamayuru thinking about the Buddhist monks and kids who struggled with their math and headed to Kargil. Kargil's main area - the main Market seems like a busy street out of Mumbai. I circled around to find a place to eat and finally settled in on Pasha restaurant - with oily vegetable curry, it was not such a good choice. Inside the restaurant, a father and son came and sat on my table. The father's eyes were the dull-grey with cataract. His wrinkled and tired face wore an expression that was an odd mixture of disappointment and passive anger. His young 8 year old son - dirty, bright eyed ate the meat Thukpa with the eagerness of any boy. The father watched his son eat and when he couldn't eat no more, he finished up the meal. He saw me dab sunscreen on my nose (my this time my nose changed its colors and shone like the sun!). We kept looking at each others' eyes but never exchanged a word - I couldn't think of anything appropriate.

I stepped out and stretched myself - I had enough time. I couldn't get beyond Drass that day because it was sunday and Zoji La - the pass that takes you officially out of Ladakh and into Kashmir would be closed. A Sardarji walked up to me and started a conversation. It's the usual - where are you coming from? Mumbai? wah! Where are you going? Why are you doing this? What's the 'average' (meaning mileage) of the motorcycle? (average kya deti hai - most popular question across India). He told me that he's been in Kargil for 50 years and before that his father and before that his grandfather. They were from Punjab and had established a business in the Kargil area. He explained to me about the war and how the market where we were standing was just empty when Pakistan shelled it from 200km away using Bofors guns.

A little further in the market, I met Mohd. Ali, an ex-policeman. He was posted in the market area during the war and he showed me from across where we sat - look at the shutters of that shop..can you see the shutters shelled? Yes, I said - yes, I could see it. An ugly bright green shutter nakedly exposed its insides through the gun-shot holes. How did they shoot here? I asked. Bofors, he responded. Lot of people have left Kargil since - the 22 days of war had bruised their lives forever. They can't not tell the story or forget it - it's etched in the memories of their lives forever.

As I head to the highway, I saw a wall that blocks the highway and it was there that are soldiers bled to death while fighting the enemy on the otherside. The Line of Control is 10km from Kargil and you'll see a sign on the road that oddly says, "Caution - the enemy can watch you!" I was like, what the hell?! Who is watching, from where? I stopped the motorcycle and took in the experience. It was a different, odd kind of thrill. And to think that the local population and army lives it everyday completely humbled me.

I was even more embarassed at my own contribution and civilian assumptions and contribution to India in general at the Drass war memorial. An army officer, K.P. Singh from Allahabad walked me through the memorial ("Jab, aaplog aate hain dekhne keliye tho hamara chaati upar ho jathi hai"). I saw the Taloling mountain where the war had started - Pakistani insurgents (their govt. denies that it was their army while India insists it was) creeped down the mountain and wanted to bomb the highway that I'd just got off from. The plan was to capture Ladakh itself. Being on lower ground, India was terribly disadvantaged but our armymen climbed up, fought and recaptured territory, lost lives and won the war in 22 days. I didn't really know how to respond or react when he said - quite matter of factly - don't worry, go home, we are guarding the country for you.