Sid Padhi
It was a cold evening at a
mountainside parking lot for one of those ubiquitous temples one finds at
regular intervals throughout the hills and the rest of India. There were the
mandatory tea stall and paan-less paan-dukan, both highlighted by the colourful
chips packets from rival snacketeers. It even had two motorcycles and a car,
besides our taxi. But, most importantly - considering the time of the day,
(which was around 5:00pm), the cold from recent snowfall and the constant
freeze-breeze, plus a heady feeling from the altitude - there was this warm,
merry, crackling and soul-saving fire.
That shining crescent, which could
have shone better through more sophisticated lenses, is Bhimtal Lake. We are on
the way back from a trip to Mukteshwar Temple further up from where we stand, a
trip that had to be aborted due to snowfall and treacherous icing conditions of
the road. But, where we failed to have a view and a darshan at Mukteshwar, we
gained by a lot of first-hand insight into driving techniques on iced mountain
roads and how not to negotiate curves and climbs.
There was this huge jam at a
settlement along the way, where the road turns sharply and slopes upward and to
the right. As it turned out, it all started with one wrongly parked car, which
slightly altered the smooth flow of the traffic. Thereafter, it took a
foolhardy novice from the plains to apply brakes on the descent, where none
should have been applied, and skid while trying to negotiate the wrongly parked
one. A car climbing up from the opposite direction had to slow down and
readjust direction to avoid the skidder and found out too late that he had lost
both power and traction for resuming its journey uphill. So, now we had two
cars, one helter and the other skelter, besides the original sinner, blocking
most of the road. It was only a matter of time before other vehicles started
pulling up, the first few filling up all available gaps, and ensuring a tight
traffic seal. Our car, when we reached the spot, was around fifteenth from the
knot. Plenty of time to wander about and feel the place.
I
was pleasantly surprised to see sparrows twittering about on the roadside,
pecking at human offerings. It's been literally ages (I was quite young in age
then) since I had seen one, let alone so many. More about them at a later date.
Having first procured a pack of cigarettes, I proceeded to investigate the chaos and add my two-bit to the solution.
[Lessons learnt from my first few steps on the iced road can be spared elaboration for the sake of brevity, as the bullet points are self-explanatory.]
1.
Stay off the ice. For, although I had on my trekking shoes with their much
professed grip on rocky surfaces, they proved to be thoroughly inadequate in
tackling the icy paths created by the pressure vehicular treadmarks and
polished by indiscriminate braking and the resultant skids.
2.
Dig your heels in. (This
came from my personal experience at Dalhousie, where I was posted once upon a
time. A
little digression here to elaborate my point - My
SSQ (Station Sick Quarters) was located at a distance of roughly 150 feet in
the vertical plane. The flight of steps that took me up and down them twice a
day were of uneven height, curve and slope. You could break your neck on them
on a bright summer day if you would, for example, try a carefree tune while
appreciating the fluffy clouds. In the winter, with snow on them, looking down
while descending was a matter of survival. You had to choose where to put that
next step. Fresh snow provides sufficient traction & grip. Stepping
repeatedly on your own footsteps hardens the spot into reliable footholds. The
problem is when there is a lot of traffic. The entire surface is soon coated
with an inch thick ice layer. And that is when you dig your heels in. Much like
marching. Land on your toe and away you go). This
strategy worked.
3. Avoid sudden movement.
During the period of my meditative preoccupation, people had gathered in groups and were lending their hand by throwing their weight around, in a bid to push the stuck cars out of their miserable inadequacy. It was both educative and amusing to watch how Newton's physics antagonized inexperience.
There
are several issues involved in the problem of driving a car up a serpentine,
icy slope with zero momentum. It is an intricate combination of correct
engine revs, controlled clutch release and wheel direction for gaining some
purchase out of ice crust and miniscule tyremark ridges. A straight takeoff is
almost impossible and spinning tyres lose control. Nothing is gained by
hurrying.
Not surprisingly, most of the
vehicles in the soup had Delhi numbers.
Back to business. I had thus far been a passive but
keen spectator of the events unfolding before my eyes. A few sidelong glances
came my way from volunteers who had taken a few falls in the line of selfless
public service. They perhaps grudged my nonchalant mood and my propensity
to lend my hands to photography than to them. The officer in me kicked in. I sallied
forth to the top of the tangled formation and caught up with a hapless Home-Guard
who was having a hard time being heard. I gave him a tip. Not the currency but
the verbal kind.
"Clear a path and allow all
vehicles going downhill first passage. It would allow more maneuvering space
for the ones below and a less uphill task".
He looked askance at me, trying to
decide whether he should take me seriously. Apparently, he did. His reply, when
it came, was in the form of frantic gesticulations followed by incoherent
speech. I discovered that he had a bad stutter, made worse by a nasal twang. A
partial cleft palate, most likely. It seemed he agreed with me and his
grievance was that the people who mattered, the Good Samaritans, did not listen
to him. I understood and could only empathise, my empathy magnifying when he
found in me someone, who wouldn't lend others a hand, lending him a ear and
gave vent to his vocal chords, alternately through oral and nasal routes. I
nodded in sync with his passion until he remembered that duty was calling and
left abruptly to attend to an overladen Maruti Alto that was pointing towards
the valley. I remained rooted at the spot, processing the inconsequential
contents of the recent interaction before moving on uphill. I kept walking
until my car picked me up, a few kilometres on.
To be continued…
