c u on top - satyabrata dam

My fourth dawn in Dushanbe derived no further pleasures of flesh or mind than what I already had and with an afternoon and evening full of picnics, jolly people, sumptuous food, swimming in mountain pool I decided to take the morning really easy. I was to meet up with Shagarf, the Director of Pamir Silk Travels, at 10 am in Rudaki Street. As I stepped out into the street, I had pre-decided that for today, I won’t focus on women at all; I mean not on her countenance but would fix my gaze and wandering mind on what she walked upon, her footwear. I have had enough of the rest of her and like I said, now I am looking for an ugly woman in Dushanbe. Why do I always focus on women, you may ask! Well I am not gay for one and as a specimen we men are literally nowhere compared to women when it comes to variety, imagination, boldness and sense of attire. We men dress alike anywhere in the world, same monochrome, same trousers, shoes, tuxedoes rarely and don’t experiment with colours, style or

Three is a number that is used almost all over the world to depict some special connotations; like: three musketeers, three idiots (I love this one), etc so I knew right at the moment my eyes opened to the third day in Dushanbe that this day would be different. Soon enough I got embroiled in a seductive encounter with a sizzling woman from a far off land, of which I cannot elaborate here any further since my blog has wide readership below ‘adult’. And don’t you men with dirty minds snigger and wink; it’s nothing like what it sounds like. Being the third day I decided that I couldn’t continue playing the fool any longer, so I gave the LP Tajik Phrase book its long overdue glance and inserted page-marks at strategic pages with strategic sentences that one could push not so strategically towards strategically placed strategic sirens, of which streets of Dushanbe abound. Thus armed and fully loaded, and feeling no less invincible than Rambo and Terminator 3 combined armed with Bazookas,

14th July, day 2 in Dushanbe: when the day dawned it hadn’t looked any more or less exciting than day 1 and I was eager to discover if I could discover some more fine corners of this city without corners and even more dazzling girls than before and if familiarity would indeed rob my senses the much coveted hint of adventure. I didn’t have much as an agenda. But then the morning rolled and things started to happen of their own accord. Gulja called and said she wanted to meet up over lunch to discuss more about her India trip that she was now considering seriously. Considering that she wanted to visit Armenia and Iran before India, and to a country that actually doesn’t officially exist, with a trip in between to Berlin to drop her stuff there and then perhaps dip into West Africa somewhere, was making her all stressed and dizzy so she wanted my help to sort it out. Gulja’s confusion and distress was well justified though not necessarily well defined and as I specialize on such travel

I have few days in Dushanbe before I head off into the Pamirs and Afghanistan Hindu Kush, and generally during the evenings, I have nothing more to do than twiddle my sore thumb so thought of writing a series of posts, on my everyday adventure in this ancient city that has been labeled by LP as the most scenic capital city of Central Asia, which comprises of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Tajikistan. And if Dushanbe is the prettiest and cleanest of all the capitals in Central Asia, then I tremble in fear what the other capitals look like. Well I don’t tremble in ignorance rather in knowledge since I have been to all of them earlier. And well, LP has been wrong on at least this count or marginally offset. Anyway this is about my first day (not night) out in Dushanbe and not a LP bashing platform so I will get on with my self-imposed rather tough task. First for those non-initiates, I am in Dushanbe since I wish to go to Afghanistan. Now if this sounds rather roun

I never climb a mountain to reach the summit. That’s not the reason why I climb. If I ever do so then it would be curtailing my voyage, my journey since the summit does define a boundary, a limitation beyond which I do not see. And that would indeed be the end of my climbs. Therefore I never understand why climbers all over the world are so hungry for the summit. Why are they in such a rush to reach from where they would have to descend and return? Why don’t we simply seek the trail and route as high and far we can go! It may take us to the geographical summit or it may take us beyond, or it may take us somewhere else altogether. I never like to reach; I prefer to be on the road, on a journey without an end or a reason. Only by doing so do I reach several summits one after another as they become resting points of my ultimate journey and not an end in themselves. Always arriving and approaching but never reaching and thus life becomes an endless adventure where I seek not to conclude

We step on the slabs and climb nimbly with utmost care as not to dislodge any of the stones. I wonder what an ingenious way to overcome a typical rock problem that otherwise would need proper gear and rock climbing equipment. As we exit out of the dihedral I heave a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a steady climb at all. As we ascend so does the pale dawn, turning pink and then crimson and then golden-orange, and so does the towering peaks around. I pause to take pictures and walk behind my guide and shepherd friend. We climb through an ice column and across and over several rock ridges and finally I begin to see the top of the Toral Ridge. Shortly I sight the prayer flags fluttering at the pass. My happiness knows no bounds, after so many years I am finally within touching distance of this elusive pass. We have been climbing really fast and in about 40 min from our tent, I finally step on to the slab rock that marks Toral Pass at around 4600 m. What a magnificent sight it is, I take a deep