Journey to the North

He who travels to the North, Will see the majestic mountains, Shrubs of Rhododendrons, Trails- trodden and untrodden, Which need to be walked upon in moonlight at the rooster’s call. Tired, damn tired, I have just returned from the North. Let us raise a toast in the name of Himalayas, O my friends! Writing a travelogue has never been easy for me because, as soon as I clutch a pen, I find myself in a dilemma- what should I write about? In the objectivity of space and time, should I portray the characters that I met, the events that occurred, and the sceneries that I saw? Or should I delineate the whirlwinds that I so intimately felt, being submerged in total subjectivity? That is, should I write a story or a poem? In the depth of bliss, poetry is what I write. Therefore, O friends, come and listen to my poetry of the North interspersed with a story. The North, as a synonym for quiet and uncanny mountains, always used to keep staring at me like a question mark, and one day I told it, “I will soon come looking for you, walking narrow trails in a dark night beaten by chilly wind, with head mounted lamps, following the footprints of Yakin nettle bushes.” And thus, how one early morning did we meet at the square of Tamreshwar Mahadev imbued with curiosity and excitement, imagining an adventure in the making! Green hills, winding rivers, and village kids frolicking carefree. Get out of the city once in search of life, shall you? The first night befalls in Dhunche- I see the Langtang range before the sunset. O, somewhere along there, we will keep watching and walking tomorrow. Mountains are mountains before the journey. We, who started off at 4am in the morning with mounted lamps on heads, go astray somewhat deliberately in nettle bushes following the Yak hoof prints. There is a price to pay for getting road guidance. We find our way with 400 rupees. Dog tired, we reach Deurali late afternoon. There is a different joy in the tiredness that is voluntary. Crawling, when we arrived at Chandan Bari, it was already night. Tomorrow happens, and we move towards Gosaikunda, climbing the infamous Lauribinayak uphill. A great expectation -which helps us forget hunger and fatigue. The wind is blowing hard– both inside and outside of our heart. Most of the time we all spend in soliloquy. At 2 O’clock, we see the Gosaikunda bluish; the origin of the Trishuli, abode of Mahadev according to Puran. Puran (Mythology) is a narrative beyond truth and falsity; a mythology is written when a limited man aspires for the limitless. I remember Rudrashtakam and recite it silently. Friends are not aware of it. I am at a slight distance away from them, alone. Tears unconsciously roll over in my eyes, no big deal. I looked at the mountains again. The mountains were not mountains. They were something else. My encounter with the Gosaikunda is an epic which warrants a different readership and context. Therefore, let that parcel of emotion remain unopened for now. Extremely tired, we lodged at the High Camp around 7pm on that day. Altitude sickness afflicted us all. For survival, we ran down hill early morning the day after at 5am. After crossing over Phedi, Ghopte, and Thadepati, we stayed overnight at Maningoth. We rented an ambulance from a village in Sindhupalchowk to Kathmandu the following day- we all were fine and fit, but the country was held hostage by the Maoists. Everything was same and ordinary in the city. When I again looked at the mountains from there the next day, the mountains were just mountains.

उत्तरतिरको यात्रा

जो उत्तरतिर यात्रा गर्छ उसले देख्नेछ भव्य हिमालहरु लाली गुराँसका पोथ्राहरू हिडिएका र नहिडिएका गोरेटाहरु जुनको उज्यालोमा जसलाई भालेको डाकसँगै छिचोल्नु पर्छ| म भर्खरै उत्तरतिरबाट थकित, एकदम थकित फर्केको छु| हिमालयहरूको नाममा एउटा चीयर्स गरौं, ओ मेरा साथीहरु | यात्राको बयान लेख्नु मेरा निम्ति कहिल्यै पनि सहज हुदैन किनभने म कलम समात्ने बित्तिकै दुबिधा मा पर्छु- म के लेखूँ? दिक र कालको वस्तुगततामा भेटिएका पात्रहरु, घटेका घटनाहरु र देखिएका दृश्यहरु को वर्णन गरौँ? अथवा पूर्ण बिषयगततामा डुबेर मनमा उर्लिएका छालहरू को अन्तरंग चित्रण गरौं? अर्थात् म कथा लेखौं कि कविता? आनन्दको गहिराइमा मैले लेख्ने कविता नै हो| त्यसैले ओ साथीहरु, आऊ मेरो उत्तरतिरको यात्राको कविता सुन- बीच बीचमा कथा पोतिएको| उत्तर सधैं प्रश्नवाचक चिन्ह जस्तो चुपचाप, रहस्यमय हिमालहरुको पर्याय भएर मलाई हेरिरह्न्थ्यो र एकदिन मैले उसलाई भनें- म छिटै तिम्रो खोजी गर्दै आउंछु, अँधेरी रातमा सिरेटो खाएर गोरेटो हिड्दै, टाउकामा बत्ती बालेर, सिस्नु घारीमा चौरीको खुट्टाको डोब पछ्याउदै| अनि कसरी एका बिहानै हामी उत्सुकता र उत्तेजना लिएर ताम्रेश्वर महादेवको बहालमा भेट गर्यौ- एउटा सम्भाव्य साहसिक यात्राको कल्पना गरेर| हरिया डांडाहरु, नागबेली परेका खोलाहरु, गाउँ घरमा निस्फिक्री उफ्रिरहेका केटाकेटीहरु | जीवन खोज्नएकपल्ट शहरबाट बाहिर निस्कहै? धुन्चेमा पहिलो रात पर्छ – सूर्यास्त अगाडि देख्छु लामटाँग् हिम शृंखला | अहा भोलि हामी त्यतै कता हेर्दै हुन्छौ, हिड्दै हुन्छौं| यात्रा अगाडि पहाडहरु पहाड हुन्| बिहानको ४ बजे टाउकामा बत्ती बालेर हिडेका हामी लापरवाह गरेर बाटो भुली दिन्छौं सिस्नोघारी मा चौरीको पदचाप पछ्याउदै|मार्गदर्शनको पनि मूल्य हुन्छ| रु ४०० ले हाम्रो बाटो भेटिन्छ र हामी लखतरान भएर देउराली अबेर अपरान्ह पुग्छौं| स्वेच्छाको थकानमा बेग्लै मजा हुन्छ| घसृदै चन्दनबारी पुग्दा रात पर्छ| भोलि हुन्छ र लौरीविनायकको कुख्यात उकालो चड्दै गोसाईकुण्ड तर्फ लाग्छौं| एउटा ठूलो अपेक्षा जसले भोक र थकान बिर्साइदिन्छ| हावा चलिरहन्छ – मन भित्र र बाहिर दुवै| अधिकतम समय मनोवादमा बित्छ सबैको | २ बजे गोसाईकुण्ड नीलो देखिन्छ- त्रिशूलीको उद्गम स्थल, पुराणअनुसार महादेवको निवासस्थल| पुराण सत्य र असत्य भन्दा परको कहानी हो| सिमित मान्छे ले असिमित को चाहना गर्दा पुराण लेखिन्छ| रुद्राष्टकं सम्झन्छु र मनमनै पाठ गर्छु, साथीहरु थाहा पाउंदैनन, म अलिक पछाडी एक्लै छु| आँखाबाट अनायासै आँशु आएछ, खैर केहि छैन| मैले फेरि पहाड हेरें| पहाडहरु पहाड जस्ता थिएनन्| तिनिहरुअरु केहि थिए| गोसाईकुण्डसंगको मेरो साक्षात्कार एउटा काव्य हो जसलाई छुट्टै पाठक र सन्दर्भ चाहिन्छ| त्यसैले अहिले लाई त्यो भावनाको पोको बन्द नै रहन दिउँ| असीम थकानका साथ करीब ७ बजे हाइक्याम्पमा त्यो दिन बास बसियो| उचाइको बिमारीले सबैलाई लडायो| त्यसबाट बच्न भोलिपल्ट एकाबिहान ५ बजे नै हामीहरु ओरालो लाग्यौं| फेदी, घोप्टे, ठाडेपाती हुदैं त्यो रात मानिंगगोठ बसियो| भोलिपल्ट सिन्धुल्पाल्चोकको गाउँबाट एम्बुलंस भाडामा लिएर काठमाडौँ फर्कियौं – हामी सबै तन्दुरुस्त थियौं तर देश माओवादीद्वारा बन्धक बनाइएको थियो| शहरमा सबै कुरा पहिलेजस्तै सामान्य थिए| जब भोलिपल्ट शहरबाट मैले फेरि पहाडहरु हेरें- पहाडहरु फगत् पहाड थिए|