c u on top - satyabrata dam

As I hurried across Dr Dadabhai Naroroji Road near American Dry Fruit store I glanced hopefully at my watch. The minute hand was about to touch ‘5’ while the short arm sat squarely on ‘2’. I was five minutes late for my appointment with Mumbai’s or Bombay’s incessant spokesman—Busybee. Side stepping an approaching pavwala -on-wheels I entered Nanabhai lane, and following a stationary-shop assistant’s raised finger stepped into the ‘Afternoon House’. A burly guard attired in deep blue blocked my way inside the narrow corridor. On hearing my errand he guided me to the end of the tunnel where I was surprised to find a half-ajar door of tinted glass, which led into the office of possibly the greatest Indian columnist ever. Through the gap in the door I saw Busybee hunched on his chair in front of a computer, peering closely into the screen and punching at the keyboard with that sort of gentleness that develops only after a lifetime of close association with typewriters (read

“It’s really cold,” the funny guy in the red jacket exclaimed through chattering teeth. He rubbed his frozen palms together and grimaced. His companion, the Sherpa, looked equally miserable but remained silent. Perhaps he had accepted such miseries as part of his occupation and had learnt to accept them with equanimity. What else do you except! I chuckled. At 25,450 ft with gusts averaging around 80 km per hour, it could be anything but warm, and so it has been around my head ever since. As long as I can remember, when I started emerging out of the sea, I have been cold. My memory now fails me but I think it all happened around 60 million human years ago, when I grew out of the continental collision and kept on growing till I stood as one of the highest peaks in the Indian Himalaya. Dwarfed only by my cousin sister Nanda Devi in the neighborhood, I reign supreme across the Indo-Tibet border. Quite a few have reached where these two now rest, but

That Mountains have all the answers no matter what the question is That Mountains teach us how insignificant, how miniscule, how powerless we are That Mountains also teach us how strong and powerful we are when we want to be Every mountain is climbed one step at a time Reaching the summit of a mountain is optional, getting down is mandatory There is always a mountain higher and further than the one you wish to climb There are many Everest in a person's life and we all climb them in our own style There is a wide chasm between 'I can' and 'I will' Life is short no matter how long you live, so live Death is neither a tragedy nor a comedy; it is simply the inevitable that happened finally Journey of a million miles begin with the first step that you extend out of your door, and before that you have to open that door There is no point in pondering if you can or can't do something, just do it (Nike should pay me endorsement money)

Nestled deep within the comfortable and often cold confines of Nepal, Tibet, Bhutan, and India, Sikkim remains one of the tiniest and one of the most enchanting Himalayan kingdoms that has lured adventurers, and mountaineers into its midst from time immemorial. The third highest summit in the world, Kanchendzonga (8534 m) stands proud amidst other giants along the Singa Lila range to the west, and a little further to the east the most beautiful mountain in the world, Siniolchu (6887 m) rears its breathtaking crown into the dazzling azure with unabashed aplomb. Blessed with innumerable mountain massifs, lush verdant valleys, fast churning rivers, terraced hills, and exotic flora and fauna Sikkim has literally everything in its armoury to entice the wayfarer. To feel the urge to visit this mystic land is natural and to get entrapped into its convivial ambience—once you reach there—is inevitable. Being controlled largely by the military, north Sikkim is not readily accessible beyond Yumth

The lodge manager assured us that we could see China from China Peak. I wondered how did China look like, in case we saw it and how would we know that we were seeing China and not something else. And what was so fascinating about China that my father was willing to sacrifice morning sleep, siesta and two sumptuous meals and climb several hours in early dawn to the top of the eponymous peak! There is never an easy answer to an obvious question was what I learnt that fateful April day. Unbeknownst to me, my father had already hired a pony for the climb. We got up around 3 am and found the pony chewing fodder without a concern. We walked along with the pony man around the lake and father mounted when the trail started climbing. Thus our caravan progressed upwards-- father straddling the pony, the pony man holding the leash and I bringing up the rear in a trot. Though the path was steep I managed to keep pace. We roused birds en route. Ever so slowly the eastern sky turned crimson. After t

The same year he got me the globe, also happened to be the one when father took us to Nainital. As far as my memory goes, this was my first official travel outside the city of my birth. We lodged in a guesthouse by the lake. It was mid April, well before the holiday season and the mornings were misty and mellifluous and the malls deserted. We galloped on richly dressed ponies and pedaled boats in the lake, with swans and ducks grabbing fishes at stone’s throw. The pines and deodar-riddled slopes rose into the blue sky where sun often played hide and seek amidst the truant clouds. To my eyes there couldn’t be a prettier place in the entire universe and the lake-view stand ice cream vendor the finest specimen of his trade. We soaked in the sun, walloped in the gallant breeze and generally watched life go by in the sun-drenched splendor. While mother sang soulful songs, I got lost all the time and my father enjoyed his siestas. One morning the clouds suddenly gravitated downwards and s