PONDERINGS OF A PONGO 5

Encounter with an Ani – A Saving Grace from heaven

In the evening of my life when I look back, many episodes and anecdotes flash past, some of which left lasting impressions while some perfunctory. One incident which is over half a century old, which still haunts and remains vivid in my memory is an encounter with an Ani (a fully ordained female Buddhist monastic or a Bhikshuni) at Ani Gumpha (Female Buddhist Monastery) on the Frontier District of Tawang in NEFA!!! I thought I should pen it down while the impressions are still bubbling and frothing in my mind.

While the rest of the Battalion was at Rupa in Tenga Valley in relative ‘cohesiveness’, I as a young lieutenant was posted at Bum La on McMahon Line which was two to three ‘days’ away (The distances were always expressed in time taken to traverse, rather than in ‘metric measures’). ‘Dumped and forgotten’ might have been a more apt term than for ‘posted’! My task was to hold the border post, which was located at a height of 17000 ft and a 24×7 manned Observation Post (yet another 2000 ft higher), with an effective strength of 15-20 ‘mundas’ (men).

But for occasional routine patrolling to nearby areas, and visits to the Sector HQ at Pankan Tso located 6 hours away, life was placid and rather sterile. Bum La was snow ridden throughout the year and the snowfall during winters counted nearly 6 ft + on the ‘snow ruler’. No mules or Haflingers (sure footed Austrian hybrid pack horses) ventured ahead of Mi La pass, due to the steep gradients, and the danger of losing the precious animals. The logistics and dumping via AT (Animal Transport) terminated at Mi La and what laid ahead of Mi La to the Bum La (4 hours of steep traverse) was a ‘man packed’ and ‘piggy backed’ agony. Hence only essentials for survival were conveyed and not the luxuries!

During clear sunny days the area around as far as one could see, including the ‘watershed’ feature of the McMahon line and beyond, glittered like a silver platter. The fierce ultra violet rays refracted and reflected from the snow almost burnt the skin to ‘ebony finish’. Without snow goggles one was at the peril of snow blindness. During moonlit nights the scene was sepulchral, giving rise to hallucinations. The sky was kaleidoscopic with myriad patterns of falling stars and meteors. The rarified atmosphere made the visibility of the heavenly bodies crystal clear, sometimes emanating prismatic colours which cast a surrealistic aura.

One had to be fully dressed in five layers of high altitude ECC (Extra Cold Clothing), even while fighting to get the alluding sleep at night, due to lack of oxygen. The protection was provided by the clothing than the living accommodation, The policy dictated that no permanent or semi-permanent structures could be constructed and hence we managed with ‘sangarhs’, locally propped up of layers of stones, wild moss, CGI Sheets and PBS rolls. These pitiable contraptions couldn’t withstand even a minor blizzard which were common, especially during nights and usually blew off our canopies, pouring in loads of snow and sleet, making sleep impossible. We often found ourselves praying for the ‘first light’ and for the ferocity of the blizzard to abate.

Being the only officer, that too a green horn ‘Thampi’ (Madrasi) amongst ‘Khalsas’, I recollect moments of formidable loneliness. The only contact with the outside world was my Philips transistor (only Radio Ceylon and BBC were available) and twice a day ‘Sab Achha’ (all okay) reports to the Sector Commander over field telephone. Ironically enough those phone calls would often end up being a source to terrible electric shocks on cloudy days, and invariably invited additional tasking, rather than provide relief from the loneliness.

I figured the only way out of the morbidity was to keep moving and hence I volunteered for an LRP (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol) of 6 days to Kharsan La, which was a 3 days trudge through deep untamed snow and ice. We preferred to be out and sweating rather than being forlorn. The Sector Commander was happy indeed that the request came from my side.

Bhutia Shepherd – Curtesy googles

As planned, post briefing, check back of all logistic & operational aspects and finally the solemn ‘Ardas’- seeking Blessings of ‘Wahe Guru’ at the post’s mini Gurudwara Sahib, the LRP consisting of one officer (read Yours truly), and seven men were ready to kick off. Our mascots of the post, the two huge Bhutia dogs were growling and straining to vanguard our mission. And we put our first step forward in high spirits during the vee hours, aiming to cover maximum distance on the first day. It was a clear day bereft of any snow. We were treading virgin grounds as this was a maiden patrol to Kharsan La. When left free, our dogs were leading us. They always showed natural prowess to avoid soft snow and also gave us advance warning of any wildlife around, like musk deer, snow leopard, wild pheasants, other wild dogs and above all any other strangers.

Rhododendron Woody Plant during flowering

I was in the lead; the snow was knee deep and at some places we were going on all fours to distribute the body weight. We were negotiating a mound of snow when suddenly the surface gave up under me and I fell deep into soft snow which was covering the rhododendron woody plants (the only vegetation that survived in snow). I found myself crashing through the steely branches breaking them and getting bruised, until fortunately my fall was arrested by a stone crop at the bottom, approximately 20 ft below. I could hear the dogs barking and digging the spot where I had disappeared. My senior NCO, Havildar Bhajan Singh, was the first to arrive and together the patrol took nearly one hour to cut the way down to reach me and haul me up. Bruises were luckily not as bad as I thought them to be, and minor field dressing did the trick. Before much time had passed my men were gleefully brewing tea and ogling at me cracking their inimitable bawdy jokes. I was the first one to be offered tea “Saheb Bahadur Jee. gut gut chai pee lo. Sehat theek ho jaogi” (Sahib have few sips of hot tea, you will be all right).

Tankha

After the invigorating brew, we moved forward avoiding mounds. By evening we reached a grazers hut. Tell-tale clanking of bells of yaks could be heard from far. So, we made our camp for the night with the grazer and his yaks. He was a man of indiscernible age, but kind and hospitable. I found him painting a Tankha of Buddha. I was fascinated by the way he was chewing the shrubs to make the vegetable dye for his Tankha. Over a tot of rum (which my buddy always carried for me) the grazer promised to sell the finished work* after two weeks in lieu of two ‘dollars’ (rum bottles). Being in the company of the host, I was graciously exempted from my turn of sentry duties that night by Bhajan Singh.

(*The Tanka was collected later by me, volunteering for a subsequent patrol and the same was presented to our Officers Mess, which adorned the walls of the anteroom, till it got condemned, I was told, due to termite attack, a few years back!)

Next day was clear and we made rapid progress and reached another abandoned grazer’s hut. The slate-tiled roof had collapsed and the hut was half filled with snow. But the walls held. Last light was fast approaching and we decided to make our camp there. With no roof the snow was falling with abandon on our sleeping bags. But we were somehow saved from the howling blizzard by the standing walls.

In the morning, we set forth early and by evening reached at an Assam Rifles post in the foothills of Kharsan La. Everyone rested and feasted well with the Assam Rifles. The post commander, a Junior Commissioned Officer (JCO), was very hospitable. I was given a proper room in their guest house, which even boasted of a western toilet! They had butchered a MoH (Meat on Hoof) – a precious ‘bakrah’ (goat), to share with us.

The sun rose again and we continued the move to our objective circling a great and heavenly waterfall, which emanated surreal rainbows from its sprays. The days trudging was climbing, sliding on rock hard ice and we steadily got closer to our goal. As the last light started alluding us, we struck camp in a natural depression to avoid strong winds adding on to the ‘wind-chill factor’.

The next day in the early hours we set forth again and by 0900 hrs were at the lake which bordered Kharsan La (pass) – our objective. The lake was frozen and I thought it prudent to cross the lake walking over its frozen surface, rather than going round it. I took a small party of two men with me and deployed the rest behind a huge rock. The ‘mundas’ were insistent to brew tea, which I forbid on security reasons, as the smoke would attract curiosity and danger. We went across the lake and found a vantage point at the Pass. Trying to avoid offering a silhouette, I went further down and commenced my observation of the terrain ahead through binoculars. I could see a track disappearing behind a hillock and occasional movement of vehicles and pack mules. I made a panoramic sketch and the observation report. The issue ‘HMT Jawan’ watch indicated 3 p.m. and clouds were forming up in the horizon, visibility becoming poor. We left our observation post and hurried back through the pass.

Curiosity took me to the berms of the pass and I found a line of abandoned trenches on the ridge, all of which on closer examination revealed were facing due South – towards the direction from where we came! I felt as if I was physically inspecting the defences of our adversary. Thankfully, wisdom dawned prompting me to get away from the location before it was too late. We crossed the lake over the surface and again I noticed trenches similarly disposed on either side of the lake. Now I had a gut feeling that we probably had deeply over strayed. I mustered up my patrol, explained to them the predicament and urged them to get earliest into the safety of our territory!

By then the clouds had really come down and it started snowing heavily. Our maps proved ineffective and map reading was impossible in the absence of any landmarks or geographical referral features, visible or discernible. Even our tracks on the snow had vanished for a retrace. The only option left for me to extricate from the shtook, was to fix the compass bearings to South and start walking. The visibility was nil and we were feeling each other with stretched hands and moving forward. Soon it was pitch dark and walking in that darkness was dangerous.

We stopped and to escape from direct snowfall, with a fierce blizzard – the yellow wind blowing from China – we dug a deep hole in the snow, wide enough to accommodate all of us. We sank into it and put our hands over each other’s shoulders while squatting, and covered ourselves with ground sheets and mattress kapok; and kept each other warm by collective body temperature. The dinner was consumed from the reserve composite rations of Shakkarpara. Few who had already consumed theirs surreptitiously in the previous days had to be satisfied with what others doled out to them. It was very uncomfortable with sleep seeping in sparsely.

In the grey morning with visibility still poor, the patrol stirred out of the ‘igloo’ we had created. Soon enough a glass (cut out bottom of a rum bottle) of warm black and bland tea was brought to me by my buddy. I asked him why the tea was bland and he hesitantly informed me that the milk powder and sugar were exhausted. So ‘life’ would be ‘bland’ thenceforth! I asked “Have you all had tea?” “Haan jee” came the reply promptly. While I sat down to work out our further route, my breakfast was brought in, one chapati ‘spit cooked’ and a spoon of pickles, accompanied by a glass of warm water smelling of smoke and kerosene. I found the chapathi discoloured with traces of Olive Green and a distinct taste of blanco. On repeated questioning the truth came out hesitantly that the ‘atta’ (flour) was exhausted and they had scraped out the ‘pack 08’ (carrying harness) and managed to make one chapathi to feed the Sahib Bahadur. By then I had already bitten through half of the chapathi, rest I couldn’t eat. I remember at that moment my eyes swell up a bit through that chilling cold. I enquired whether they all had their breakfast and as usual prompt came the reply, “Haan Ji” followed by a beaming smile through the badly chapped lips. I knew instantly it was nothing but a lie one I couldn’t penalise them for!!

We moved out in the southern direction. I checked up our radio communications with the sector HQ. The radio set was only receiving and not transmitting. I could hear the radio operator from the base at Pankan Tso yelling- ‘Jankee phor (Yankey 4), Jankee phor, report my signals, over.’ ‘Jankee phor, nothing heard, report over.’ I asked our signal operator to change the battery. To my utter surprise, I was told that the spare battery was not taken to reduce the carrying weight. I controlled my temper and told him to put the radio set off, to preserve the battery. Visibility was poor and the snow and blizzard seemed agitated. We were just moving cross country, guided by the compass needle, ascending and descending with the terrain offered to us. We even tried climbing cliffs like cliffhangers only to be repelled back to bottom. Afternoon passed and the dim fluorescence of the day turned dark indicating arrival of night. Again, we dug in for the night and every one soon were asleep due to hunger and fatigue.

Next morning I didn’t expect any tea but asked for some warm water. Hesitantly my buddy said that the match box had gotten wet and rendered useless. Being non-smoker troops, I couldn’t ask them for alternatives either. By first light we were out in the southerly direction again. Men were fatigued from lack of sleep and food. Few were struggling to carry their weapons. For some even carrying harnesses and equipment were becoming a burden. Now the fitter ones were carrying the weapons of their weaker comrades. I was sharing the load of an additional SLR rifle in shifts. Soon we came across a windblown dilapidated and abandoned structure which resembled remnants of a prayer hall. My wrist watch showed that evening was setting in and I thought I should grant my men some respite and decided to rest for the day. I quietly realised I needed it more than anyone. The signaller’s frequent efforts to get through to the base also failed. The staccato of the ANPRC 25 radio set was being constantly broken by repeated calls of the signaller from base “Jankee phor, Jankee phor, Report Over ….”. I closed the radio set to preserve the depleted battery. Then the merciful sleep overtook us, but for one person in turn who stood guard.

The brightened fluorescence indicated morning. It took some time for us to get organised for the move. But move we did, as dictated by the magnetic compass – to South. As we trudged ahead mundas started showing signs of tiredness and tempers were already fraying high. They were slumping in the snow and being hesitant to get up. Soon the weak were being piggybacked. And the motley crowd was inching forward like zombies. Being the leader I did not even have the privilege to crib or slump down at will! I was coaxing and goading the men with choicest ‘gaalies ’ (abuses). By now, well despite my rebukes the men had started eating snow to quench thirst and hunger. Our dogs that were in the vanguard were also not to be seen. Probably a pursuit after a curious snow rabbit or a ‘girgit’ (polecat) split them from us.

Afternoon passed as per my ‘HMT Jawan Chronograph’. We were all spent out and close to emaciation. Even the gaalies were not coming out due to sore throats. It was the third day without food, potable water and signal communication. Signs of panic were setting in and surfacing. I, as an ‘Afsar and Sahib Bahadur ji’ couldn’t even afford to lose one’s cool!!!

We were all in one of our slumping intermissions, with the men lying prostrate on the snow and me squatting on a mound of snow thinking of the ‘future’!!! Suddenly I saw a munda getting up cupping his ears, straining to listen. He was shouting ‘Kuttē bhauṅk rahē hain‘(Dogs are barking!!!!), which was a clear indication of human settlements! Then I too heard the growling, barking and snarling of Tibetan mastiffs resonating from afar. After an initial hesitation the patrol was stampeding in that direction, which was brought under control with chaste expletives, and abuses. They were all downcast and repentant for losing their cool. And we got organised and moved forward cautiously. This was a moment where we missed our own Bhutia mascots!!!

From the snow and fog emerged an apparition of a weird human being. Getting closer we realized that it was an old woman in the garb of an astute Buddhist religious order. She was exceptionally tall, an old ‘Ani’ (bhikshuni) and appeared to us as a Grecian Goddess, led by two ferocious wolves with formidable fangs bared. Her yell silenced the dogs and she gesticulated towards an ancient isolated structure of a Gumpha (monastery), partially hidden by thick fog and snow and cautioned us not to proceed beyond the entrance gate of the Gumpha, as any man trespassing into Ani Gumpha (Female Buddhist Nunnery) was sacrilege. The saying was that they were so astute that, leave aside any men folk, they didn’t even permit male species of animals or birds into the Nunnery. Diametrically opposite was the practice at the Jang Gumpha (male monastery) at Tawang. No female species were admitted into that Gumpha!!!

Tibetan Mastiff – (Curtsey googles)

We all just slumped where we were and requested the venerable ‘Ani’ for some hot tea, more by gestures, as none of us were in a state to speak!!! Everyone had sore throats due to excessive consumption of snow to quench hunger and the mouth when opened looked like the open beak of fledglings – red and parched!!! Most men had dried lips to the point of bleeding. I could perceive the maternal caring in Ani’s slanted eyes. She gestured to us to relax where we were and left, leaving the two ‘wolves’ behind to keep an eye over us. Keep an eye they did, circling around and sniffing each one of us. Their smell was nauseating and in retrospect, may be ours to them too!! In a few minutes, the old lady returned with two more ‘Anis’ carrying begrimed buckets made of some dubious metal, but containing steaming local tea brew with globules of yak butter, rock salt and visible yak hair floating all over. As the leader of the miserable looking gang, I had the privilege of the first mug of this hot brew. What a feeling it was … as if having Amruth!! I reminisce guzzling down nearly three mugs full, and so did my men.

Miraculously, at that very moment our communication got through to our base at Pankan Tso. I had no ears for the pure, chaste and select expletives-‘galies’ MC/BC / @#*-@ etc – from my Sector Commander (Maj xxxxxxx) who by our lack of communication so far was mostly convinced that we had strayed across the border and by now were en route to Peking, sans our boots!!! My reply was only that we are at Ani Gumpha, starved for 3 days and need hot food immediately!!! And we were not moving till ‘Khuraak’ (food supply) arrives. To avoid taking his protests I then chose to hastily cut off the radio set, and a wise decision it was.

The reaction was so fast that, in less than three hours we found grinning faces of our comrades from Pankan Tso emerging from the snow and fog, with hot sabjis, dal, and rotis. This was a new record, as the normal time taken to clock the distance was over 4 hours in fair weather. This is the camaraderie one seldom finds outside the fauji fraternity! And despite his anger, the Sector Commander had also sent one bottle of Himalaya ‘free issue Ghoda rum’ as a compliment. We shared our food with the ‘Anis’ who were God sent angels at our time of crisis. And when we left, I gave the leftover quarter bottle of rum to the Ani to be used as medicine in times of emergency. She blessed me profusely and I even touched her feet prior to bidding farewell.

By night on the eighth day after we left Bum La, we were at Pankan Tso; and reporting to the Sector Commander, who was in a foul mood. After dismissing the patrol, he called me inside his tent Arctic. As I was following him into the tent, he suddenly turned around and gave me a tight slap that had my head spinning and I saw stars. He said, “you fool, x@#* (expletives), the Divisional HQ had been eating my head about the whereabouts of your patrol. Intelligence reports had come in that Chinese had laid ambushes on the border to nab Indian patrols. And what do I take of your ‘radio silence’ for?!”

I had learned by then that on such occasions it was better not to explain or complain. Once his wrath subsided, I conveyed to him in a lighter wane of the obsolete maps we carried, where the border was marked at the ‘wisdom’ of an INT (Intelligence Section) havildar. Being a highly technical job, anything to do with cartography is left to the INT. So, ‘INT da Munda’ had used his ‘intelligence’ and intended to draw a line on the map and probably while in the act a mosquito had bit him on his nose! End result was that we poor souls were wrestling with snow and ‘yellow blizzard’ on the imaginary line that the ‘intelligent munda’ had drawn!! The extrication to the safety zone from thence was a saga on its own. But I still got censured for not having carried out a thorough and personal check of logistics – A lesson I learned the hard way!

However rude my Sector Commander was to me, he was still full of compassion for his young subaltern. Though a teetotaller, he had organised my brand Hercules XXX and ‘junglee murgha’(wild fowl) specialties in my honour for the dinner. While bidding goodnight before receding to our respective tents, my commander reminded me that I should be back at Bum La post (which was six hours climb from Pankan Tso) by 1100 hrs the next day!! Which meant we needed to kick off at 0500 hrs sharp! But he also did not forget to give me a considerate advice, “Ravi, dheere dheere chalna, lekin time te pahunch jaana“ (Ravi, go slow, but be there in time) sic

That night the Ani appeared in my dreams and blessed me!

In the evening of one’s life, when one retrospect and savour such unique experiences, one is overwhelmed with gratitude to God Almighty, who unflinchingly and in various manifestations stood by and goaded one to safety and life ahead.