Sitting by Trishul

One doesn't sit at the base of a 7000 m mountain often. Nothing between you & him. His vastness, his totality, his assimilation of everything around him, including yourself.

Beauty can awe you, may be amaze you as well. But there's a place where beauty meets consciousness. True beauty makes you cry. Silently, almost involuntarily. Something stirs up inside & perches on the eyelids.

We are camping at Shilasamudra (4040 m), walking 36 km to this place from the nearest village. Clouds have ensured that the view of the peaks is missed at every single vantage point. The longest of the meadows (Ali bugyal) & the highest of the passes (Junargali, at a personal best of 5000 m) have been traversed. All the trotting of the treadmills, fidgeting of the earned-leave windows seemed to have earned us nothing but cold & damp shoes & gloves.

The mysterious (& equally inelegant when not surrounded by snow) lake of Roopkund too had been crossed a day before, the group struggling even to light the incense sticks. The lake still has human skeletons dating to two separate groupings in the 8th and 17th century CE. The prevailing weather over the last couple of days may not be a close approximation of conditions that lead to perishment, but it sure doesn't look inviting for a congregation either. 

Sunrise over the Trishul peaks into the Shilasamudra cradle

But what has dawned today gives an idea of why so many have come here before. As we crossed the pass, we climbed down into a cradle. The opening of weather has unveiled Mt. Trishul (7120 m) guarding up one side and Mt. Nanda Ghunti (6309 m) watching the other. Both send a part of them down the valley with the effervescent stream of Nandakini. The porters who have come with us and whom the massifs have sustained with their water & tourism, talk of the glaciers receding almost a kilometre over the last decade.

Mt. Nanda Ghunti watching over the Shilasamudra campsites

I can't help but indulge in the moment. I need to lift my head 75 degrees to see the salt on Trishul's head. And I sure feel like I can hug his rock-bare torso. Back in 1907, Trishul was the highest peak to have ever been climbed. Post-1947, a certain Mr. Gurdial Singh (Guru) from the Indian Military Academy Dehradun not only subdued Trishul-I but went on to do a headstand on the summit. The iconic moment, one of the first major ascents by an Indian surely provided a sure footing to the Indian mountaineering. In time, Guru formed a part of the first Indian team to triumph over Everest. Seen from a distance (best seen from Kausani, above Almora) Trishul is evidently Shiva's trident with three distinct peaks. From the glacial arena of Shilasamudra, we see only two, and yet feel spoilt for choices. 

The ever-receding glacier of Trishul, like most others

I am not sure from where the songs come to us all by themselves. I start humming something from the 90s. It's not a classic per se, still the sun joins us, rising behind Trishul-III. A glacial roar resonates. A droplet falls from the perch.