One of the most remarkable aspects of Badrinath is its ATM kiosks. While in the rest of our hot and humid nation ATM kiosks are at best Air Conditioned or left unventilated. The ATM kiosk at Badrinath is however kept warmed, a pleasant and welcome surprise in a very chilly town. But then it is just one and trivial of the many remarkable things that define Badrinath.
The journey to Badrinath began in the early hours of the morning of 11th October as we woke up at around 3 AM to catch the first and only bus to Badrinath from the Government Bus Stand in Haridwar. Arriving at the Bus Stand at around 4 AM we waited for a half an hour for the bus to open and immediately grabbed prime seats. Making acquaintance with an old gentleman who used to be a Bus conductor in the Garhwal region also helped while away the time. At around 5 AM the bus pulled out of Haridwar and promptly into an early morning traffic block.
For what would be one of the longest bus journeys I have ever made my ever constant worry had been to reach Joshimath on time. The substantial town of Joshimath is in many ways a gateway to Badrinath. Located around 60 kms before Badrinath it is also the winter quarters of the entire population of Badrinath including the temple and priests of Sri Badrinath temple. During the months of pilgrimage to Badrinath proper, it is imperative that vehicles reach Joshimath before 4PM in the evening else they would not be permitted to drive up the perilous mountain roads of the Himalayas. So imagine my worry at every road block and traffic bottleneck that caused us to delay our timings. A burning desire to reach Badrinath on that day itself kept a constant prayer in my thoughts.
The mountains start abruptly after Rishikesh on the road from Haridwar. The vast Gangetic plains suddenly and dramatically make its way over to the ever rising hills and mountains of Garhwal. Most of the details of the early morning travel has been a little hazy for me as I was catching up on my interrupted sleep in the pleasantly wafting in cool mountain air though I did managed to pick out names like Devprayag etc. We had a breakfast of fresh and warm Aloo Paranthas at a mountain side tea stall outside of Devaprayag accompanied by piping hot cardamom tea. That was the moment I started to enjoy the taste of tea, a beverage that I had always shunned in favor of coffee. Throughout this journey I have continued to appreciate the taste of tea. My friend Jayan however was discovering a new life of his own, Aloo Paranthas. An acquaintance developed in the early morning of 10th at the Ginger Rail Yatri Niwas restaurant in New Delhi was growing into a close bonhomie as the second batch of Aloo Paranthas are being ordered to the frantically busy waiter boy at the tea stall. Before the end of this journey I would not be surprised if Jayan declared Aloo Paranthas to be the love of his life second of course to his photography.
Rudely rebuffed in my attempts at establishing 3G internet connection in the Cosmopolitan capital city of New Delhi I was surprised to learn of the surprisingly good BSNL coverage in the Garhwal mountains. Of course the sheer contours of the terrain ensure that coverage is unpredictable but I did manage to keep track of our positions using my Mobile’s GPS and Google Maps.
The roads had been absolutely horrendous at several stretches of what only maps would describe as a National Highway. Reminding myself of countless accounts of travellers describing the monsoon travails including landslides and heavy mud flows I was being ever gladder that I was travelling during dry October when the rivers of mud had turned into mounds of white dust, which do however make the life of an asthmatic treacherous. The entire vegetation by the sides of the road was covered in a palette of white indicative of the nature of travel during monsoon. Scores of landslide locations which abounded the road made progress of the traffic very slow, but I was appreciative that slow though it is at least it is moving which would not have been the story a few weeks earlier during monsoons.
By afternoon after we passed Srinagar we were making good progress when around 2 PM tragedy struck in the form of a puncture to the rear left outer tire of the bus. At a slower pace we managed to pull by a mountainside puncture shop which apparently made brisk business of the reprehensible road conditions in the area. During nearly an hour of tire repairs I was praying that we do not get slowed down and would manage to cross Joshimath on time and would reach Badrinath today itself.
As 4 PM passed we had only managed to cross Chamoli and it was a literal storm in my mind. My reason, based on the information I had researched told me that we would not be able to pass Joshimath and would have to camp out there, my heart was praying itself out hoping that by some miracle we would be able to reach Badrinath today itself. The ever increasing crowd in the bus and the ever increasing dangers of the road were ignored by my constant mental prayer for a miracle. The town of Joshimath was at its crowded best due to some sort of religious rally that clogged up all the streets. For nearly a half an hour we were stuck in this town with me having no idea what is going on. Would we be able to go forward or are we to disembark. I dared not ask anybody lest I somehow jinxed the whole thing. At around 6.15 PM we finally made our way out of Joshimath to extreme jubilation for me. The snippet of a conversation I had heard about the lower route being closed and the higher route being selected finally made sense to me now. There is a backup route after all! Thank God! It is a climb of nearly 2500 meters in altitude from Joshimath to Badrinath over around 60 kilometers of extreme off roads. The entire countryside was awash in bright moonlight and truth be said it was at that time I became appreciative of moonlight. Who needs torch when moon is shining so brightly like that? And the mountains! Ah how heavenly they were bathed in the silvery lights of the moon! As yet another valley was crossed and the bus turned the corner around yet another mountain I saw it. Moonlight reflecting off bright white snow caps. The Hima Alaya is finally here. The true abode of snow is nigh. With ever increasing awe and jubilation I watched the snow capped mountains coming closer. A chance look up gave me another whelp of joy as I saw a fully star studded night sky, something I had dreamed of for years of my life in the polluted urbania. A few co-passengers were amused by my dog-with its head out- of the window antics but seemed understanding after I explained about my joy of seeing stars. With the weather getting chillier I started pulling on my woolens.
It is impossible to describe the effect of the first sight of Badrinath town. After hours and kilometers of travelling through the most inhospitable of terrains devoid of any sigh of human settlement, you turn a corner and lo behold the entire town of Badrinath is upon you in all its resplendent grandeur. Flanked by the twin mountains of Nara and Narayana with Urvashi giving company and the lofty Mt Neelkanth giving benign oversight, it was a sight that I had dreamed of for ages. Indeed I felt heartened about my choice not to attempt to describe it in my fictional travel to Badrinath that I penned a year and some earlier. As the last few kilometers to Badrinath was slowly being tredged up, I gave sanctity to a promise that I had made to the Gods during those tense moments when I feared of not reaching Badrinath that day. It is a promise that I shall uphold.
Arriving at the chilly town of Badrinath we slowly started walking our way towards Sankara Sadanam, an establishment that is run by a Sankaran Nampoothiri in association with the Rawals of Badrinath. It had been a hard going with my backback, satchel and extremely heavy shoulder bag making any progress painfully slow. We had to stop several times to finally be sure of the way but everyone seemed to know the enigmatic Sankarettan aka Sankarji and his establishment and finally through a small alley we reached his establishment perched on the banks of the River Ganga.
Sankarji welcomed us warmly and rumors of his legendary wit and intellect was in evidence in the very first minutes of our interaction as he regaled us with differences between Indian and American Democracy pertaining to the rights to Kiss and Piss in Public.
Laughing our hearts out, lightened both in body and spirit we went off to have some heavy dinner, yet again Aloo Paranthas for Jayan and to buy a few extra woolens including warm gloves for the cold Himalayas.
As I settled in for the night tugging in the thick woolen blankets snugly around me a joy of immense volumes swept around me. It was a wonderful sleep that night.
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