Another marker post, and another. Although the mountainside was getting no steeper, the climb became harder as the air thinned. Their rest stops increased in length and frequency. The last marker; one kilometre to go. They kept ascending. Then . . .
‘Look at that!’ said Nina, awed. They emerged from the fog - and for the first time since arriving in the northern Indian state of Uttarakhand, she was able to see the true majesty of the Himalayas.
Lower down, the mountains had been little more than ominous shadows, concealed in the murky clouds. But now she could see them clearly, lit by the stark winter sun. The sawtoothed main peak of Mount Kedarnath itself dominated the view, its lower, secondary summit off to the west, but even with the valley’s sides obscuring the surrounding landscape she could take in other snow-covered mountains rising beyond. She had been in the Himalayas before, but circumstances had not been conducive to sightseeing. This time, she was truly able to appreciate their scale.
Eddie was not so impressed. ‘Yeah, it looks pretty amazing,’ he said, ‘but you won’t like it so much when you try to climb the bugger.’ He pointed to the northeast. The ridge they had seen on Kit’s laptop was revealed for real, more jagged and imposing than its computer-generated counterpart. ‘We’ve got to get up that.’
‘There’s the notch,’ said Kit. There was indeed a V-shaped gap in the natural barrier, but even its lowest point was considerably higher than their current location.
Girilal turned his face from the falling sun to regard the ridge. ‘You think the Vault of Shiva is over there?’
‘That’s right,’ said Nina.
‘That is a very dangerous part of the mountain. Many who have gone there have never come back. Are you sure you want to follow them?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘I could live without it,’ Eddie muttered.
‘I cannot stop you, of course. But I wanted to warn you. Well, I tried! Now, come, come. The village is just ahead.’
After a short distance, they crested a rise to reach flatter ground. The track ahead was lined with a long string of small huts leading to the village proper; like those in the hamlets down the mountain, their roofs had been removed. The buildings at the path’s end were more solid works of brick and stone, squeezed tightly into the narrow valley floor. The absolute stillness of the scene was eerie, the village in hibernation, waiting for life to return in the spring.
‘The pilgrims stay here,’ said Girilal, waving his stick at the skeletal huts. ‘The tourists have more money; they stay in the hotels.’
‘Are you taking us to a hotel?’ Nina asked.
‘Oh, no! They are private property - that would be breaking and entering, and your policeman would have to arrest me!’ He directed a laugh at Kit. ‘No, I know somewhere better.’
At the end of the line of huts was a small bridge over a narrow gorge. They crossed it and entered Kedarnath proper. A central street wound up the slope, the houses’ doors barricaded by sandbags to keep out snow and meltwater, locks wrapped in cloth to protect them from the cold. At the far end was the village’s tallest building, a broad stone hall with a high square tower.
‘Is that the temple?’ Nina asked Girilal.
‘Yes - one of the twelve
Kit looked at him sharply. ‘You’re going to open the temple?’
‘I am a humble servant of Shiva; I have been there many times. It is the best place for those in need of shelter to stay the night. And,’ he added, grinning, ‘I know where the priests hide the key.’
Kit didn’t seem happy, but raised no further objections as they approached the temple. The building was impressive: it had a squat, sturdy appearance, being built from large stone blocks to withstand the elements, yet the blunt functionality was balanced by detailed carved figures set into alcoves around the colourful entrance. An imposing statue of a bull stood guard outside.
Girilal led them through a gate, but rather than going to the temple’s entrance he crossed to the building’s corner and brushed snow off a small pile of bricks, muttering to himself as he looked beneath each in turn. Finally, he triumphantly held up a large brass key. ‘I told you!’ he said, skipping to the door and unwrapping the cloth from the heavy padlock before opening it. ‘Come inside, come!’ He kicked off his sandals, then picked them up and stepped over the sandbags.
Kit placed his hands together and lowered his head towards the temple, then unfastened and removed his boots before entering. Eddie looked at Nina with a shrug before following suit. She did the same, hopping on one foot as she fumbled with the laces, and went inside.
The interior was dark; with the village closed for winter, there was no electricity. Eddie was about to delve into his backpack for a torch when a soft glow illuminated the entrance hall as Girilal lit a lamp. Figures emerged from the darkness: statues. Behind them, mythic scenes were painted on the walls. ‘Please, accept the hospitality of Lord Shiva,’ said the old man.
‘Thank you,’ said Nina. She looked more closely at the statues. ‘These are beautiful. Who are they?’
‘The Pandava brothers,’ said Girilal. ‘The heroes of the Mahabharata. They came here seeking Shiva before they died. They were serving penance for killing their cousins in battle, and because of that Shiva did not want to bless them, so he took the form of a bull to hide from them. But they found him, and he tried to get away by sinking into the ground. The brothers caught the bull by its hump just before it disappeared, and the hump turned to stone and became the Shivalingam. The temple was built around it.’ He faced the next room, hands together in prayer.
Nina couldn’t help noticing that his crazy-man act had all but disappeared. ‘What will you do now you’re here?’
‘I will pay my respects to Shiva, of course, and ask him to protect you on the rest of your journey.’
‘Can you ask him to stick up a sign pointing to his vault as well?’ Eddie said. Kit gave him a somewhat irritated look.
‘Eddie, we’re in a sacred Hindu temple,’ Nina chided him. ‘Behave yourself.’
Girilal laughed. ‘It is all right, Dr Wilde. Shiva has a sense of humour - some say Ganesha was created from his laughter! Now please, make yourselves warm. I will be back soon.’ He went into the darkened hall.
Eddie took a combined paraffin heater and stove from his pack and set it up. ‘This’ll be cosy,’ he said as he lit it. ‘Better than kipping in a tent, though.’
‘What’s the plan?’ Nina asked.
‘It’ll be night soon, so best bet’s to start off at first light tomorrow and head for that ridge. We should be able to get over it before it gets dark again - if we can find a way up.’
‘A
‘We’ve got enough,’ said Eddie, nudging his pack. Metal clinked inside it. ‘Long as we don’t have to scale any sheer cliffs, we’ll be fine - if the weather holds.’
‘Do you think it will?’ said Nina.
‘Place like this, it can completely change in five minutes. Only way to know is to keep an eye on the conditions, and if it gets dodgy be ready for it.’ He looked at the others’ packs. ‘Okay, so who’s got the nosh?’
Provisions were retrieved, and sleeping bags unrolled and laid out around the heater. Kit started preparing the food. Nina looked into the adjoining hall. ‘Girilal?’ she called. ‘Do you want anything to eat?’ No reply. ‘I’d better see if he’s all right,’ she said, concerned that the long, cold trek might have finally taken its toll.
The next, larger room was dark except for a faint orange glow, the temple windowless as further protection against the weather. Padding closer, she saw the light was a candle, behind a curtain. Girilal’s voice reached her, speaking quietly in Hindi. She parted the curtain and entered the small chamber beyond. ‘Girilal? Are you okay?’
The old man was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor before a small altar, the flickering candle beside him lighting the turquoise walls. He looked round, startled. ‘No, you should not be in here!’ he said, scrambling to his feet.
‘I’m sorry!’ said Nina, backing out. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’
