Standing there, I was witnessing one of the most stunning visuals of my life. A semi-frozen lake, solid on the edges, and covered on the sides with ice-shavings. The breeze was light, and the Sun was just making a friendly appearance once in a while. Tsangu Lake can be amazingly beautiful. And that day, it surely was.
Traveling with an entire extended family can be a pleasure, but equally a pain. Eating out on travel becomes frequent, and a lengthy process. So do the tea breaks. Some health concern always pops-up. Kids end up fighting. Women end up fighting with the local sari and shawl shops. Teenagers end up discussing their crushes and romances. And Men end up finding out ways to smuggle in a bottle of Whisky. Like all group travel experiences the entire group splits up into smaller groups. But the problem is, that you can never abuse. And an even bigger problem being a teenager from a Hardcore God-Fearing Brahmin Family is that you can’t drink!
But at that moment I could only see Tsangu, all the fights in the background over tea cups, and lays packets was just secondary.
That wasn’t the only visually satisfying experience from the day. I remember the drive and then the walk towards Nathula Pass, me and my cousins hugging the Chinese Army officials who spoke a very sweet version of Hindi, and the snow laden mountains around the area. Extreme whiteness reflected extreme purity, sadly corrupted by the impurities of a 1962 initiated conflict. But the experience was silky smooth, across the ancient silk route. But then, Murphy had to strike.
Our driver drove us towards one of the countless snow point. This area had all the usual suspects. Beautiful looking girls selling Yak-Milk tea and coffee, along with sumptuous bowls of Maggi and trays of Momos; frivolous salesmen selling so-called Sikkim Handicraft; all-pervasive cameraman carrying a photo-album and a hardbound address book with a dusty shutterbox; Gum-Boot and protective clothing lenders and tyre-snow-ride fellows commonly found along the Himalayan belt, from Rohtang, here till Nathula. I along with my slightly nut-head cousin sister and my most notorious cousin brother walked past all these. We saw snow and we saw a spot at some height, we just started running towards it.
On the way we exchanged volleys of snowballs, fell many a times on the soft snow bed, did some sliding Shammi Kapoor style, used an imaginary bottle of Roohafza to pour it all over a snowball and eat it, and did all the stupid little things. We reached the short peak, sat on the soft snowbed and felt really nice.
But just as I got my cousins spoiled the day for me. First my sister hurled a huge snowball towards me which hit my face and created a cold fusion reaction all over my head and eyes. Total Brain Freeze.
As I was recovering from the blow, my cousin brother pulled my pants (they were loose) from behind and pushed heaps of snow behind. That was massive. As if a brain freeze wasn’t enough, I just had my first ass-freeze.
To make matters worse I slipped and slid down the entire length of the snow track. All the memories of the Chinese smiles and the Tsangu beauty were long lost. I felt as if I will die soon, with half my body refusing to retain any sense of sense.
The cold was so bad that I couldn’t even shout at my cousins, who were visibly quite scared. My uncles and aunts and cousins started coming towards me with all sorts of remedies. A bowl of Maggi, yak-milk tea, blanket, towel, a strip of crocin, a booklet of Hanuman Chalisa. Bloody, get me a brandy will you!
Amongst all of this one of little cousin sister told, “Dada, why don’t you take a hot water bath!”. I felt it was a stupid idea. But then I realized what it can do to me. And yes there was hot water being prepared in drums by melting snow, being used to make Maggi, Tea and other stuff around. So I asked the cruel culprit cousin of mine to run and get a bucket of it.
He came running back saying that the guy asked for Rs. 50. I asked my uncle to give him 60 and get the bucket soon. I started removing my clothes on the side, without feeling half my body. Although the brain was slowly returning back to normalcy.
My cousin got me the bucket and I stood there with my briefs on, naked in that white gloomy snow-filled setting. The Sun at Tsangu didn’t happen that long back I thought. I used an old paint dabba and poured the first batch of hot water on myself. I felt a sudden rush of blood back in the body, it was as if all the old mills in Mumbai had all of a sudden started back in a single day, and were already producing at peak levels. It was a rush of energy, I loved the fact that I couldn’t have a brandy today, or I would have missed out on this. At that very moment, all my senses were alive.
All the mistakes were forgotten, things were being laughed about, and for once even the Yak Milk turned tastier.
beingdesh 
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