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| Leh, with the white Shanti Stupa prominent on a peak on the right and the Stok Kangri peaks forming a gorgeous backdrop |
Few places perhaps change as dramatically in three years as I have seen Leh do. When I went there in early-June 2012, it was a quiet, dainty little hill town with clean roads lined with small shops mostly selling handicraft and trinkets. There were few outsiders at that time since the tourist season was yet to set in. I remember taking a walk through Leh one afternoon, and not meeting a single other tourist.
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| This is what the central market area looked like in August 2015 |
When I went back in early-August 2015, most of the adjectives I have used for Leh did not fit it any longer. It was far from being ‘quiet’, it was overflowing with tourists, and deep trenches had been dug along the boulevard, parallel to the pavements. Apparently Leh was being ‘beautified’.
Why someone should think of beautifying a town as pretty as Leh is beyond me. The effect has been quite the opposite—Leh looked ugly to say the least. Apparently the work started shortly after I left Leh in 2012; it was being ‘beautified’ for three years!
When we finally drove into Leh and Tanveer declared that we were in the central market area, I could hardly recognize the spots I had walked down so many times three years ago. The trio we had picked up at Lamayuru bid us goodbye. The young chap thanked Tanveer and said, “We felt very safe travelling with you.”
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| Leh is increasingly becoming all about concrete |
I wondered if he was genuinely grateful or was being sarcastic about the ‘roller-coaster’ ride to Likir (see previous post). Tanveer looked very doubtful, too. He was probably thinking the same thing!
I had to withdraw money from an ATM, or I wouldn’t be able to pay Tanveer. He stopped the car at the stand and I first went hunting for the SBI ATM. There was no cash. Next I went to the J&K Bank ATM. Again, no cash. Next stop: HDFC Bank ATM. There was cash, but there was also a 100-metre-long queue outside it.
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| On way to Khardung La |
This was another change from my last visit. ATMs in Leh running out of cash were nothing new to me. I had experienced it the last time, too. But there used to be hardly any queues, that too, containing only locals. Mostly tourists would access ATMs then. It was good to see locals availing of such facilities, but infrastructure has clearly not been able to keep up with their aspirations.
Since there was no other option, I stood in the queue. After standing for some 30 minutes I heard I was in the queue for men! I am yet to come across any other ATM with gender-specific queues. Anyway, seeing that I was an outsider, I was allowed to stand in the ‘male’ queue.
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| A wild rose bush thriving in the harshest of conditions |
One person from each queue was allowed to access the ATM alternately. After standing for an hour, I finally reached the counter. The woman from the other queue right before me started withdrawing money. She withdrew Rs 30,000, taking out Rs 10,000 at a time. When she inserted the card for the fourth time, the ATM had run out of cash. She turned around with a stupid grin, and said, “Paisa khatam (Cash over)!”
I imagined myself strangling her, punching her, and banging her head against the wall. But all I could actually do was to give her a cold, mean stare. Adil was standing close by. Seeing my face looking like a thundercloud, he quickly said, “I saw what happened. Let’s go to the J&K Bank ATM. I saw it being loaded.”
Thankfully, I finally got the money from there.
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| Macho Nullah |
When Tanveer asked me where I wanted to be dropped off, I had no answer. As usual, I had not booked accommodation. I told him to drop me off at the market area, but Tanveer would have none of it.
I did not want to go back to the hotel where I had stayed during my last visit. It was unduly expensive. From my internet research, I knew of a few guesthouses and named one. Tanveer asked one of the locals where this guesthouse was and he said it was quite far. Another name—same response.
I did not want to stay too far from the market because I had an early-morning flight to catch. In case the guesthouse could not arrange a car for me, I’d have to go to the taxi stand and book a cab.
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| A biker deals with a rough stretch |
By now, a few locals had gathered around the car. One of them suggested Nezer Guesthouse. He said it was cheap and quite close to the market, and gave directions. It turned out to be only about a five-minute walk from the taxi stand. In fact, Nezer had several kinds of accommodation to suit all pockets—a hotel, a guesthouse, and a holiday inn, which was a cross between the other two.
The guesthouse (cheapest) was full, and there was only one room in the holiday inn (costlier than guesthouse but cheaper than hotel). The woman in charge said the holiday inn rent was Rs 1,500 per night; I said I could pay no more than Rs 1,000. She brought it down to Rs 1,200. I took it.
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| On way to Khardung La |
When travelling through India on a budget, the best way to bargain is, “I can’t pay more than this.” It usually works better than haggling does.
The accommodation in Nezer was quite good but from the fact that there was no view of the surrounding mountains. To get that, it’s best to stay away from the market, which I had done on the last visit. The room was quite big with a nice, comfortable bed, warm water in the bathroom (a luxury in Ladakh), a TV set, and huge windows that looked out over the main road.
Nezer also had its own cars for sightseeing. Only after ensuring that my car for Nubra Valley trip and airport drop had been booked did Tanveer and Adil leave.
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| Khardung La top |
My plan to visit Nubra Valley the next day was rudely quashed. My car and accommodation for the night stay had been booked by Nezer. I woke up early, got ready and went down, only to hear that landslides had blocked the road to Nubra via Khardung La.
This was the second time my Nubra Valley plan had been cancelled. I hadn’t been able to visit it in 2012 either.
I was too tired to even feel unhappy. I had a mild fever and simply went upstairs, changed, and went back to bed. I slept through the morning, somehow dragged myself out of the bed at 2.30pm to lunch at the restaurant right opposite the road, came back and promptly dozed off again.
I went out in the evening, took a stroll through Leh, bought momos (dumplings) for dinner at an eatery, and chatted with the eatery manager, who claimed that most roads out of Leh—to Tso Moriri, Pangong, Nubra, and even the highway to Manali—were shut because of landslides. “You are lucky to have reached Leh,” he said.
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| Leaving Khardung La behind |
I met a young Kashmiri shopkeeper and spoke to him about how Leh was being ‘uglified’ in the name of beautification. From his facial features, I knew he was not a Ladakhi and was from the Valley. On the last visit, I had bought a thanka (Tibetan Buddhist painting) from a shopkeeper who had also been from the Valley.
“What do you people come here for? Go to my Kashmir Valley. You will see how pretty it is,” he had said in between placing one thanka after another for me to choose from.
I wanted to meet him again and tell him that I had finally visited ‘his’ Kashmir Valley and had found it exquisitely beautiful. But I simply could not locate the shop in the crowd of construction work.
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| On the way back to Leh |
The next morning brought better news. I could not possibly go to Nubra Valley because it required a one-night halt and I had to leave Leh the next morning. But the road was open till Khardung La, which is one of the highest passes in India and is promoted as the highest motorable road in the world, though it is apparently not so.
My driver was a quiet chap who hardly spoke—like most Ladakhis I have met. He was an excellent driver.
I asked him how Leh was managing to supply water to so many tourists. He said the civic body filled up all tanks once every morning. Even that was good news. I grumbled about the beautification project and he laughed gently but did not comment.
Merely half an hour into the journey, we were stuck. Landslides had blocked off the road ahead and the debris was being cleared. The cars lined up right next to a lean stream that was unsuitably named ‘Macho Nallah’. It looked anything but macho.
An army truck was stuck, too, and the jawans passed time trying to hit a target with pebbles. Two wild-rose bushes grew amidst the rocks and pebbles near the river. Rose apparently takes a lot of pampering to grow well. But nature has her own way of doing things. It had taken only the nourishment from a clear mountain stream for the two bushes to be teeming with flowers.
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| Play of light and dark |
After two and a half hours, we started off again, only to be stuck after merely covering some 500 metres. Again we started; again we were stuck. I can’t remember any longer how many times we got stuck in landslides, but it was a most tiresome journey. There were only a handful of tourists in cars and bikers on the road.
The road was in terrible shape. A small car got stuck in the mud and after several attempts, had to give up. “Will it be able to make it?” I asked my driver. “It will be tough,” he said quietly. I knew it translated to “It’s impossible.”
Just a word of caution for those willing to travel in Indian mountains: Do not go for small cars for a lower price. Small cars are simply not fit for these roads though they are allowed to ply. Your journey may rudely come to an end on a road like the one to Khardung La.
It took us four and a half hours to cover the 39 kilometres from Leh to Khardung La top. There was a thick cloud cover and hence, no view. We all got ourselves clicked in front of the board that says that at 18,380 feet, Khardung La is the highest motorable road in the world. As I said, that claim is doubtful.
Since the weather seemed to be getting worse, I quickly got back in the car and the driver agreed that we’d better head for Leh.
When I got back to Nezer, I found a team of bikers waiting at the reception. They were all from Bengal, my home state. They asked me how the road had been and rued the fact that they had not joined me for the trip. Many of them were not keen on driving on that road.
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| Thunderclouds gather over a valley |
They had driven all the way from Manali, and the rain and landslides had rudely jolted their Ladakh dreams. Just as the manager of the eatery had said, all roads were closed. The team was vegetating in Leh. One of them was in a murderous mood and even skipped dinner out of sheer dejection. I could empathize with them.
They were super-budget travellers. They bought their own provisions and cooked their own food. Very kindly, the woman in charge of Nezer had allowed them to cook in the kitchen. On the road, they survived on ‘chire’ (flattened rice)—an eternal Indian ‘fast food’.
Generously, they invited me to dine with them that evening. It was a simple but delicious meal of rice and chicken curry, which made my last night in Leh quite enjoyable. I flew out of Leh the next morning. I had missed Nubra Valley yet again, but Kashmir had more than made up for it. Nubra would have to wait, yet again.Read more of my posts on Kashmir and Ladakh:
1. Srinagar to Leh via NH1D (IV): The cave-shrine of Lamayuru
2. Srinagar to Leh via NH1D (III): The 30-foot Buddha of Mulbekh
3. Srinagar to Leh via NH1D (II) Drass and Kargil
2. Srinagar to Leh via NH1D (III): The 30-foot Buddha of Mulbekh
3. Srinagar to Leh via NH1D (II) Drass and Kargil
12. Ladakh photos I
13. Ladakh photos II