My enduring love affair with all things adventurous, that included trekking and mountain climbing, had its humble beginnings in Jalpaiguri.
One particular expedition stands out vividly in my memory, a grand adventure involving the bureaucratic titans of Jalpaiguri and Darjeeling districts converging upon Sandakphu. Amidst their ponderings and musings, I, in my infinite wisdom (or perhaps youthful obstinacy), insisted on being a part of the action. Enter Bala uncle, my trusted guardian for the day, and the unsung hero of our tale. He happily agreed to have me along for the trip.
Everyone thought it would be a pleasant trek as the weather was pleasant and skies were clear, however, that didn’t last very long, as the weather in North Bengal is fickle. Rain cascaded down like a waterfall in full spate, followed by a hailstorm that turned our heads into unwitting targets for a barrage of icy missiles.
In the words of the great Bhaskar Ghose uncle – “I rued having to bring little Ipsita with us; she had walked gamely with us for a bit but it was a little too much for her and she stood on the road and wept.” I was seven.
And then Bala uncle swooped in, picked me up and like a seasoned Sherpa, he hoisted me onto his back, and off we trudged, shielding me from the worst of nature’s wrath.
Seeking refuge in a rocky alcove, everyone huddled together until the storm finally abated. Our journey back to the vehicles was a soggy ordeal, and took almost 2 hours. Eventually we got to our vehicles, where I was wrapped up in razais, and we drove off to the forest guesthouse, which also took about an hour. But there was a fire and warmth of the bed. I was asleep before I knew it.
Moving from Jalpaiguri to the National Police Academy in Hyderabad was like stepping into an adventure paradise. Every weekend was an adrenaline-fueled odyssey, with rocky peaks begging to be conquered and hidden corners waiting to be discovered. It wasn’t just a campus; it was a playground for the daring.
We were a merry band of explorers, who every other Sunday took off rock climbing.
Our chosen haunts, whimsically christened The Cool House and The Guesthouse – by me I think – served as the backdrop for countless escapades, each more exciting than the last. The Cool House was a trio of colossal rocks arranged in a triangular formation, atop another rock, with a cozy nook nestled in the center where we would convene, swapping stories and sharing snacks as we basked in the warm embrace of camaraderie.
And then there was The Guesthouse, its lofty perch crowned by a massive rock that provided much-needed shade and shelter from the scorching sun. Here, amidst the breathtaking vistas of Hassan Nagar, we whiled away the hours, marveling at the kaleidoscope of colors displayed by the large chameleons that called this place home. We co-existed without fear.
But our adventures were not confined to mere leisurely pursuits. No, we were adventurers of the highest order, fearless and unafraid. Enter Vallabh Shikhar, the Everest of our academy, a towering peak that beckoned with its sheer cliffs and rugged terrain.
While Vallabh Shikhar may have been reserved for the elite IPS probationers for their training with ropes and safety harnesses, we were not ones to be deterred by such trivialities. With supreme confidence, we scaled its precipitous slopes without so much as a second thought, our only equipment being the indomitable spirit of adventure that burned within us.
We had some misadventures as well. One friend took a dramatic dive near Vallabh Shikhar, giving us all a heart attack. But lo and behold, he emerges from the chaos without a scratch, laughing like he just won the jackpot. Who knew mountain mishaps could be this entertaining!
When I took my son to Bhutan, he was just seven, the same age I was when I ventured on the Sandakphu trek. So, there we were, tackling the formidable Taksang Trek, known to be an absolute beast of a trail—tough, steep, and seemingly endless. But, with a ‘why not?’ attitude, we dove right in. With a stick in one hand and my son’s tiny hand clutched tightly in the other, I embarked on the journey, never once letting go. It wasn’t just about physical prowess; it was about mental grit. If your mind is set on conquering the challenge, your body follows suit. I hope my son will grasp this fundamental lesson—that life’s hurdles are mostly conquered in the mind.
“When the mind is ready, the body will find a way.” – Roger Bannister
