Recently Nathula Pass was in the news ,as trade opened with much fanfare between India and China, through this pass. My memories traveled back in time to the days I spent in Nathula when I as posted there , as a young officer in the Indian Army.The year was 1976.
The Nathula Pass or the Silk Route as it is famously known is about 14400 ft above sea level on the border of China & India with the armies of both the nations facing ech other directly, unlike the borders of Pakistan and India, where the para – military forces face each other.To reach Nathula one had to go to Gangtok in Sikkim via Siliguri in West Bengal.The road to the pass was a treacherous road, winding its way from Gangtok ,and at times would disappear altogether because of a snow slide / or a landslide. The border roads force would then take great pains in re-laying the road , which was the only life line to the troops on top.
The Nathula picket on which I was posted was itself was higher than 14400 ft high. It overlooked the Nathula pass .It was a 3 hour climb from the base camp at Chaangu lake. The lake was full of trout and where Gods supposedly fished. The army personnel were forbidden to fish in this water.
The trucks brought in the ration, paani, mail and other items from Gangtok to the base camp at Chaangu lake.From the base camp, mules would be loaded with water and “Fresh ration”- vegetables /rice water etc., would be supplied to us in the picket,other wise it was a ration of tinned food which was developed by a central government lab in Mysore( incidently the same guys have provided technology for the heat & eat/ ready to eat/ foods with fancy brand names available in your nearest supermarket, now). But in those days it was in the developmental stages and we were probably used as guinea pigs . It was unpalatable. Only the strongest willed officers would attempt to eat it. The Jawans would invariably use these tins in which the food came as route markers on the paths, along which the mules climbed.
There were endless days when it would rain ice , the sound would fill our ears as it rained on the GI sheets which were the roof of our bunkers. One would wake up to the whole mountains and valley white with snow. Looks good on posters, but when one had to patrol the area in the middle of the night, many were washed away by the snow slide or slip on the icy tracts and injured themselves, sometimes grieviously.
I can still feel the chill in my bones as the temperatures regularly dipped to minus double figures. In those days we did not have the fancy equipment which the Indian Army now have when they are in high altitude.Add to that the high altitude diseases like pulmonary odema,hair falling off in clumps, depression and the constant guard to avoid frost bite.
We had to make do with five layers of clothing starting with flannel long johns, woolen trouser, woolen shirt, woolen jersey and a coat lined with wool ( none of the thermal sealing jackets) and yet we could feel the chill creeping to our bones.The heating arrangement in our stone bunkers – insulated with woolen blankets- ,was a kerogas arrangement with a burner stove inside a tin can with drips of kerosene coming through a rubber tube from a jerry can hung outside the bunker.Bathing was an ordeal ,which was attempted in good weather and when it happened, it was a quick throwing of water over oneself, and getting back into all the layers of clothing in the fastest time possible.
But such hardships were easily forgotten in spring . The weather would be crystal clear early in the mornings, flowers of all hues covered the mountain sides ,you thought you were in heaven ,and the silence was almost deafening..One could see the snow covered peaks of Kachenjunga in the far distance. The yaks would be lazily grazing in the slopes and the local people would be walking with headloads of wood , with a chubby kid walking besides its mother on winding pathways.The army looked after the local people in the mountains by providing them medical care, employment to the men and women for carrying loads,and a small school for the children.
I remember standing at the picket which was called the Nathula picket overlooking the Nathula pass between India& China. I was the Observation Post ( OP) officer , there to observe and survey targets in the Chinese Territory in case of an attack. This information would be passed to the artillery guns deployed way behind.Along with me on the picket was an officer and jawans of the paratroop regiment .There was a strip of land about a 100 metres between the two countries with barbed wire strewn on either sides which was a No man’s Land. On our side of the border there was a stone marker called the Nehru Stone to commerate his visit .
When the weather was clear, one could see the Chinese soldiers on the other side practicing their drills with vigour in the thin rarified oxygen less air ,and with equal zest you could see our jawans playing volleyball on our side of the fence.Occassionally, we could catch a Chinese officer peering through a binocular , watching us watch him ! There were days when one could hear the sayings of Mao Tse Tung being aired through loud speakers, while we would play hindi songs from our movies.!
Two days in a week when the weather was clear, , there would be a tenseness in the air as one of our postal department Jawans walked across to the small hut on the Chinese side to deliver international mail and collect the mail to India.we would be on the alert, with loaded arms as this was happening, and would ease up as the Jawan returned back to our side.
The weather invariably packed up at about 7 am in the morning with a thick fog descending in which one could hardly see their own hands. The only recourse was to move to the bunkers , grope around for a bottle of rum, pour a drink and sit quietly pondering over so many thoughts about home, flooding ones mind.However much one drank it was tough to get drunk, and rum was the currency out there in the heights!! And we got supplies dirt cheap.
The arrival of letters, was a major event since it would bring news from home, though it would be a few months old. People who were sick would have become ok, or passed away, children born or other events taken place which would have bypassed our lives.
The occasional screening of a movie at the base camp, was an exquisite reminder of the world which existed out there.
Those were the days…………
I would love to revisit the place now. I suppose now we will have Volvo buses all the way to the top, and it would be a matter of time before we have the Taj or the Marriot or Radisson Hotel out there.
Times surely have changed……………..
