MISADVENTURE ON PAHALWAN

© Jaishankar Babu, 17 Oct 2014

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(The names of people and places in this story may have been changed)

The scree crunched under Koflach boots. . . .

I looked up to see Subedar Pritha Bahadur standing a few feet away. He made his report in staccato nepali,  "Sahab Hari Bahadur Khoi Kuni Kata gayo. Post ma har thaun ma heri saken chham " (Sir, Hari Bahadur is missing. We have searched everywhere on the post) 

The old soldier's brow was uncharacteristically creased with lines of worry. Knowing Subedar Pritha as well as I did, I was sure that the JCO (junior commisioned officer) would have ensured a thorough search before making his report.

       We were on a post 19,500 feet above mean sea level on the highest battle-field of the world - Siachen Glacier  - a 70 Km long river of ice ridden  with crevasses, avalanche prone slopes and near cryogenic temperatures (sometimes down to - 65 degrees C). Add to that oxygen levels so low that you couldn't walk fast for a few yards without running out of breath and you pretty much have the picture.

     I often  wondered if the guy who thought of naming this god-forsaken land 'Siachen' - meaning a 'garden of roses' in ladakhi - was merely being ironic or suffered from a serious streak of masochism. 

     Havildar Hari Bahadur was the maverick of my bunch. An accomplished mountaineer and skier and an instructor at the High Altitude Warfare School, he always seemed to be out to test himself against The Glacier. Army lore is replete with instances of those who crossed the thin line between courage and fool-hardiness having met with sorry consequences on Siachen and I feared the worst for the impetuous  braggart that Hari was. 

     Moving about alone on The Glacier beyond the limits of one's post is strictly prohibited. Patrols move out roped up in groups of three to five individuals fully equipped with crampons, ice-axes and other mountaineering gear. Snow scooters are of course the preferred mode of transport where the terrain permits their use. It was highly improbable and unreasonable that even Hari Bahadur with all his contempt for lesser mortals who respected the perils of The Glacier would try something so suicidal.

 Unless . . .

     My thoughts and gaze both at once went to direction of the crevasse that formed the northern boundary of our post. Was it possible that Hari would have been crazy enough to cross the yellow and black nylon ropes beyond which no movement was permitted without orders?

 Could he have actually gone to the edge of the crevasse all alone?

     After a hurried consultation, Subedar Pritha, Havildar Tanka, Naik Chandra Bahadur and I roped up. These were the men I could rely on the most, all three expert climbers. As we reached the nylon rope boundary, Tanka dropped down to his knees began fixing up ice pitons in a triangular shape and slipped carabiners (a carabiner is a metal loop with a sprung gate used to connect mountaineering components like ropes, pitons etc). He swiftly knotted a rope through the carabiners and made a firm three point base. This was the 'belay' that would anchor us when we ventured onto the treacherous snow-ice beyond the yellow rope towards the crevasse edge. 

       As we gradually made our way towards the crevasse edge, I could see the outlines of a four - point base on the edge and a rope knotted through it dropping off into the crevasse. It came to me in a flash . . . Hari was in there . . . probably injured or even dead!! 

       There was nothing for it now but to enter the crevasse. The crevasse went down in a steep slope and we fixed up a pulley and a jhumar (a device that would allow a rope passed to it to move one way). This kind of device was useful to pull up heavy loads - such as an injured or dead man. Rapelling down in the lead with Tanka following, I found that the crevasse went down almost vertically for about 25 feet before sloping out over the next 20 feet or so  into a comparatively gentler slope. It had grown progressively gloomy and the crevasse narrowed down so that we were forced onto fours. 

       A faint movement few feet away caught my eye through the thick gloom. As I drew near I could make out the shape of a man on his fours. Hari was still alive and conscious.

       Bringing Hari Bahadur to the surface took us over three hours using the pulley-jhumar tackle with Subedar Pritha and Naik Chandra Bahadur pulling from the top and Tanka and I shoving Hari up from below. A quick examination told me that nothing seemed to be broken. 

        We got the story out of him after having revived him with endless cups of tea and bowls of warm soup. Hari Bahadur had woken up early that morning and had to the area near the yellow rope to gather ice for melting into water - as was the practice. As he cut ice, his ice-axe skittered out of his hand towards the crevasse and went out of sight. Afraid that he would be ridiculed by others for such a basic mistake as not securing his ice-axe by the strap, he crossed the rope towards the crevasse to look for the ice-axe. 

Not finding his axe, he guessed that it had probably gone down the crevasse and rather than report the matter had chosen to fetch some rope and other gear, fix up the base and try to rapell down the crevasse.

Of course he had slipped. As luck would have it he had got stuck some way down and again as luck would have it his absence from the post was noticed soon enough for him to be rescued in time.

I do not know if Hari learnt a lesson from his mis-adventure for I never met him again after radioing for a chopper and having him evacuated to the field hospital at Thois.

However, I often have wondered . . . would I have survived such an episode as Hari did?

Probably not . . . my mind would have probably conjured up all kinds of fears and I (of little faith) would probably have panicked to death.

Hari Bahadur with his simple unsophisticated mind had hung on in the faith that his comrades would rescue him sooner or later.

And of course . . . . The Glacier was uncharacteristically kind to him that day !!

The land is so barren, the passes so high - only the best of friends or the fiercest of enemies would want to come to meet us here