A sweet short story with a great lesson… worth reading….*
Nearby, a building construction work was going on. Lots of poor labourers were working there and their small children used to hold onto one another’s shirt and play “train-train”. Someone would become the engine and others would become bogies Every day these children used to take turns becoming the engine and bogies … But there was one small boy wearing only a half pant who used to hold one small green cloth in his hand and become the guard daily.
So once I went to him and asked him ..”beta, don’t u also wish to become an engine or a bogie some time ? He softly replied ..” Sir , I don’t have a shirt to wear so how will the other children catch me to make the train ? I could see the slight wetness in his eyes..
But It gave me a lesson…. he could have cried and sat at home and abused his parents for not affording to buy him a shirt. But instead he chose another way to play and enjoy himself..
In life, we don’t get all things we desire and we keep complaining .. I dont have a bike, I don’t have car , I don’t have this or that etc…
Life is like that ….we need to make it beautiful and be grateful for what we have ..
The donkey said to the tiger, ‘The grass is blue.’ Tiger said, ‘No grass is green.’ Then the discussion between the two became intense. Both of them are firm in their own words. To end this controversy, both went to Lion – King of Jungle.
In the middle of the animal kingdom, sitting on the throne was a lion. The donkey started yelling before the tiger could say anything. “Your Highness, the grass is blue, isn’t it?” Lion said, ‘Yes! The grass is blue.’
Donkey, ‘This tiger does not believe. Annoys me He should be punished properly. ‘ The king declared, ‘Tiger will be jailed for a year. King’s verdict was heard by donkey and he was jumping in joy in entire jungle. The tiger was sentenced to one-year jail. ‘
The Tiger went to the Lion and asked, ‘Why Your Highness! Grass is green, isn’t it? ‘ Lion said, ‘Yes! Grass is green.’ Tiger said, ‘… then why am I sentenced to jail? ‘
Lion said, “you did not get punished for the grass being blue Or green. You have been punished for debating with that stupid donkey. Brave and intelligent creatures like you have argued with a donkey and have come here to get a decision”
Moral of the story.: Just don’t debate with donkeys or you will be punished.
To find out the purpose of life, we always try to live a “Life of Purpose”.
Some of us prosper in the field of education and research; some becomes one of the wealthiest men, some other tries to become a celebrity.
But as soon as we die, our identity will become a body. People use phrases like: “Bring the Body”,
“Lower the Body”, “Take the body” etc.
People won’t even call us by our name whom we tried to impress whole life.
So, live a life to make that person happy whom you see in the mirror; spend money on the things you love, laugh till your stomach hurts, dance even if you are too bad at it, pose stupidly for the photos, be child-like.
Death is not the greatest loss in life – Loss is when life dies within you when you are still alive. Whenever you don’t understand what’s happening in your life, just close your eyes, take a deep breath and say: “I know this is your plan. Just help me through it”.
Life has no other purpose. Life is a fairy tale to go through – a journey to complete – an event to celebrate – and A CHANCE TO THANK GOD FOR THIS WONDERFUL GIFT.
A teacher was tutoring a class of students when she relayed a story about a cruise ship capsized while at sea, and on the ship was a couple that managed to make their way to a lifeboat but realized there was only space for one. You’ll never guess what lesson they learned from the story.
A cruise ship met with an incident at sea. On the ship was a couple, after having made their way to the lifeboat, they realized that there was only space for one person left.
At this moment, the man pushed the woman behind him and jumped onto the lifeboat himself.
The lady stood on the sinking ship and shouted one sentence to her husband.
The teacher stopped and asked, “What do you think she shouted?”
Most of the students excitedly answered, “I hate you! I was blind!”
Now, the teacher noticed a boy who was silent throughout, she got him to answer and he replied,
“Teacher, I believe she would have shouted – Take care of our child!”
The teacher was surprised, asking “Have you heard this story before?”
The boy shook his head, “Nope, but that was what my mom told my dad before she died to disease”.
The teacher lamented, “The answer is right”.
The cruise ship sunk. The man went home and brought up their daughter single-handedly.
Many years later after the death of the man, their daughter found his diary while tidying his belongings.
It turns out that when parents went onto the cruise ship, the mother was already diagnosed with a terminal illness. At the critical moment, the father rushed to the only chance of survival.
He wrote in his diary, “How I wished to sink to the bottom of the ocean with you, but for the sake of our daughter, I can only let you lie forever below the sea alone”.
The story is finished, the class was silent.
The teacher knows that the student has understood the moral of the story, that of the good and the evil in the world, there are many complications behind them which are hard to understand. Which is why we should never only focus on the surface and judge others without understanding them first.
Those who like to pay the bill, do so not because they are loaded but because they value friendship above money.
Those who apologize first after a fight, do so not because they are wrong but because they value the people around them.
Those who are willing to help you, do so not because they owe you anything but because they see you as a true friend.
Those who often text you, do so not because they have nothing better to do but because you are in their heart.
One day, all of us will get separated from each other; we will miss our conversations of everything and nothing; the dreams that we had. Days will pass by, months, years, until this contact becomes rare… One day our children will see our pictures and ask “Who are these people?” And we will smile with invisible tears because a heart is touched with a strong word and you will say: “It was them that I had the best days of my life with.”
Once upon a time, there lived a King who, despite his luxurious lifestyle, was neither happy nor content.
One day, the King came upon a servant who was singing happily while he worked. This fascinated the King; why was he, the Supreme Ruler of the Land, unhappy and gloomy, while a lowly servant had so much . The King asked the servant, “Why are you so happy?”
The man replied, “Your Majesty, I am nothing but a servant, but my family and I don’t need too much – just a roof over our heads and warm food to fill our tummies.”
The king was not satisfied with that reply. Later in the day, he sought the advice of his most trusted advisor. After hearing the King’s woes and the servant’s story, the advisor said, “Your Majesty, I believe that the servant has not been made part of The 99 Club.”
“The 99 Club? And what exactly is that?” the King inquired. The advisor replied, “Your Majesty, to truly know what The 99 Club is, place 99 Gold coins in a bag and leave it at this servant’s doorstep.”
When the servant saw the bag, he took it into his house. When he opened the bag, he let out a great shout of joy… so many gold coins!
He began to count them. After several counts, he was at last convinced that there were 99 coins. He wondered, “What could’ve happened to that last gold coin? Surely, no one would leave 99 coins!” He looked everywhere he could, but that final coin was elusive. Finally, exhausted, he decided that he was going to have to work harder than ever to earn that gold coin and complete his collection.
From that day, the servant’s life was changed. He was overworked, horribly grumpy, and castigated his family for not helping him make that 100th gold coin. He stopped singing while he worked.
Witnessing this drastic transformation, the King was puzzled. When he sought his advisor’s help, the advisor said, “Your Majesty, the servant has now officially joined The 99 Club.”
He continued, “The 99 Club is a name given to those people who have enough to be happy but are never contented, because they’re always yearning and striving for that extra 1 telling to themselves: “Let me get that one final thing and then I will be happy for life.”
We can be happy, even with very little in our lives, but the minute we’re given something bigger and better, we want even more! We lose our sleep, our happiness, we hurt the people around us; all these as a price for our growing needs and desires. That’s what joining The 99 Club is all about.”
One day, I hopped into a taxi and took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly, a black car, jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed the brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. I mean, was really friendly. So I asked, “Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!” This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck’
He explained, “Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they’ll dump it on you. NEVER take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on with the routine life.” Don’t take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home or on the streets.
The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life’s too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so…… ‘Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don’t.’ A very rightly said quote: Life is 10% what you make and 90% how you take!!!!
Once, Lord Indra got upset with Farmers, he announced there will be No rain for 12 years & you won’t be able to produce crops.
Farmers begged for clemency from Lord Indra, who then said, Rain will be possible only if Lord Shiva plays his Damru, but he secretly requested Lord Shiva not to agree to these Farmers & when Farmers reached Lord Shiva he repeated the same thing that he will play Damru after 12 years.
Disappointed Farmers decided to wait till 12 years but one Farmer regularly was digging treating & putting manure in the soil & sowing the seeds even with no crop emerging.
Other Farmers were making fun of that Farmer.
After 3 years all Farmers asked that Farmer why are you wasting your time n energy when you know that rains will not come before 12 years
He replied ” I know that crop won’t come out but I’m doing it as a matter of “practice”. After 12 years I will forget the process of growing crops n working in the field so I must keep it doing so that I’m fit to produce the crop,t he moment there is rain after 12 years.
Hearing his argument Goddess Parvati praised his version before Lord Shiva & said You may also lose the practice of playing the Damru after 12 years.
The innocent Lord Shiva in his anxiety just tried to play the Damru, if he could, and hearing the sound of Damru immediately there was rain n the farmer who was regularly working in the field got his crop emerged immediately n others were disappointed.
It is the practice which keeps on making you perfect.
The game is won during the practice Not during the performance.
You become even diseased or old just because you don’t practice on your body or mind.
*Practice is the essence of quality survival*
Relevance us – periodic competency certification is a must.
The first day of school our professor introduced him and challenged us to get to know someone we didn’t already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to find
a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that that lit up her entire being. She said, “Hi, handsome. My name is Rose. I’m eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?” I laughed and enthusiastically responded, “Of course you may!” and she gave me a giant squeeze. “Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?” I asked. She jokingly replied, “I’m here to meet a rich husband, get married, have a couple of children, and then retire and travel” “No seriously,” I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age. I always dreamed of having a college education and now I’m getting one!” she told me.
After class we walked to the student union building and share a chocolate milkshake. We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this “time machine” as she shared her wisdom and experience with me. Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up. At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I’ll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, “I’m sorry I’m so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I’ll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.” As we laughed she cleared her throat and began: “We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy and achieving success. “You have to laugh and find humor every day. You’ve got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. We have so many people walking around who are dead and don’t even know it!” “There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don’t do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight. Anybody can grow older. That doesn’t take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding the opportunity in change.”
“Have no regrets. The elderly usually don’t have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets.” She concluded her speech by courageously singing The Rose. She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the years end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it’s never too late to be all you can possibly be.
There were about 70 scientists working on a very hectic project. All of them were really frustrated due to the pressure of work and the demands of their boss but everyone was loyal to him and did not think of quitting the job.
One day, one scientist came to his boss and told him – Sir, I have promised to my children that I will take them to the exhibition going on in our township. So I want to leave the office at 5 30 pm. His boss replied “OK, You’re permitted to leave the office early today”. The Scientist started working. He continued his work after lunch. As usual he got involved to such an extent that he looked at his watch when he felt he was close to completion. The time was 8.30 PM suddenly he remembered of the promise he had given to his children.
He looked for his boss, He was not there. Having told him in the morning itself, he closed everything and left for home.
Deep within himself, he was feeling guilty for having disappointed his children. He reached home.
Children were not there. His wife alone was sitting in the hall and reading magazines.
The situation was explosive; any talk would boomerang on him. His wife asked him “Would you like to have coffee or shall I straight away serve dinner if you are hungry. The man replied “If you would like to have coffee, I too will have but what about Children??” .Wife replied “You don’t know??, your manager came here at 5.15 PM and has taken the children to the exhibition “.
What had really happened was …. The boss who granted him permission was observing him working seriously at 5.00 PM. He thought to himself, this person will not leave the work, but if he has promised his children they should enjoy the visit to exhibition. So he took the lead in taking them to exhibition.
The boss does not have to do it every time. But once it is done, loyalty is established. That is why all the scientists at Thumba continued to work under their boss even though the stress was tremendous.
By the way, can you hazard a guess as to who the boss was? He was none other than Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam.
To say that what follows is pure fiction is insulting those who lost their lives, finding out otherwise. But to be more accurate is to endanger those who are still battling for theirs.
ROPE – By Capt Raghu Raman
Chandigarh. The last link between madness and sanity. I arrived in the late hours of the night. It was bitterly cold. Usually is this time of the year. Clear sky, though. They told me there was a
confirmed flight next morning with my name on the manifest.
There was nothing to do but to kill the night. The bar at 204 transit mess is a purely functional one. Meant for serious binging. Then again it’s probably one where most men go to seek solace in the proverbial chalice.
I knew it was a mistake the moment I entered. The only other occupant of the bar was the old man. Clutching his drink as if it was his last. The late forties, I guessed. That would make him a colonel unless of course he had been shafted somewhere along the trail.
The barman looked at me, not very pleased that another had wandered in. Understandable, considering the late hour. I was in two minds, but then what the hell, those who are about to die and that kind of stuff.
There was no alternative but to sit next to the old man. There were just two stools. The light was too dim to see him clearly. Nodding the obligatory ‘good evening sir’, I slid into the stool next to him.
He tried to lift his head, but somewhere in between decided that the effort was not worth it and muttered a reply. The barman shuffled to me, disrelish very evident on his face.
‘Drink sahib?’ he asked. Perhaps still hoping that I had come to use the telephone or something.
Large whiskey, soda’ I said dashing his hopes.
After I took a swig I turned to the old man. He might have been made of stone for all the movement he made so far. Of course, there was no doubt that he was stoned.
‘Coming back from leave sir?’ I ventured.
I got a grunt for a reply.
Come to think of it, that was a pretty stupid question. A man coming down the glacier would hardly hang around the transit camp, would he? But then I had to sound polite and if he wanted
to be left alone, well mud in his eye I guess.
I finished my drink and motioned to the barman for a refill. Belligerently he poured another and stood back.
‘Cigarette, Navy Cut’ I asked the barman.
‘Sorry Sahib, only Charms’ he replied, happy that he had managed to pique me in his own small way.
‘Not even a packet’ I persisted.
‘No sahib, only Charms’ was the delighted reply.
At this, the old man slid something across the bar. It was the packet of the brand I had asked for. I mumbled my thanks and thought if I should mouth the perfunctory denial before I pinched his fans, but then on second thoughts, he didn’t look the sort of person who would insist.
As I lit the cigarette he spoke.
‘I am coming back from a funeral’
Oh hell, now the chap has started and he is going to tell me his whole story, I thought. The last thing I wanted to hear about in this place was a funeral. Not the sort of thing to get cheered up on the
way to the glacier.
But then I had asked for it, so here goes. ‘Someone in the family sir?’
He looked up sharply, ‘You could say that”
It wasn’t a very pleasant beginning.
Two months ago they told me about the option of volunteering for a stint in the glacier. Like many officers, I had no idea about what it involved except that it was frightfully cold. Back then I had been going through some problems in my unit and I thought that it would be a change if nothing else.
I suppose I should have been suspicious at the alacrity with which my posting was effected, but of course, now it was too late. Here I was on my way up. Taking a last drink at a decent altitude.
I was keen on knowing more about this supposed hell hole. After all, I was going to spend the next year up there; and hoping to come back in one piece. I was inquisitive purely for this reason.
‘An accident perhaps?’ I continued.
‘ Yes. At the glacier’
‘How?’ I persisted.
The old man took a long breath and shifted his frame. I could see his face in the better light now.
Definitely a commanding officer or thereabouts, I decided. They get this gleam in their eyes when they become one I suppose.
‘You going up for the first time?’
‘Ah,, ’ he responded as if my naiveté was the reason for my persistence. ‘Sure you want to hear about this?’ he continued.
‘Of course sir, anything I could find out about the glacier is welcome’
The old man began the story. No doubt, he was either drunk or simply pulling my leg. I mean things don’t happen that way, do they?
If there was a place on earth that could represent hell, this would be it. Siachen. A stony dead freezing wasteland blanketed with ice through eternity. The only sign of life being the glacier itself. Like some prehistoric monster, twisting and slithering sinuously. Pulverizing or sweeping away everything in its path.
Scimitar like winds swoops from the mountains surrounding the glacier, buffeting and crashing into the sheer cliffs. The unimaginable cold chills the very marrow of the bones, like millions of tiny needles.
Slicing through clothing, skin and gristle.
And the icy chill, that benumbs the body and desensitizes the mind. Degenerating and finally sapping the very will to survive. It is a place where even the sun capitulates and shines impotently.
The locals dread the place. Not that there are very many of them. The site of death, they call it.
Just like evil is sometimes beautiful, so is the glacier. Overpowering in its awesome grandeur.
And yet, in the most beautiful of its moments, death lurks just a footstep away.
Many killers stalk the glacier. The most lethal of them are the avalanche and the crevasse.
Between the two, the latter is more feared and for good reasons.
The avalanche usually predicts its wrath. It behaves in an understandable pattern. There are identifiable avalanche prone areas. Cliff walls whose sheer gradient cannot sustain the tons of load that is brought to bear on it during the night’s snow fall. Places which receive sun’s rays through a longer period of the day causing the ice to behave as viscous layers. Or even spots where due to a quirk of nature, the mountains behave like the prongs of a fork. A faint reverberation between them, amplifies a million times, waking the sleeping giants from their slumber.
Despite its destructive potential the avalanche can be avoided through the simple expedients of precaution or pre-emption. With experience, it is possible to choose routes that avoid the avalanche’s footprint. If that was not practical, an avalanche can be set off using explosives, before it strikes. But the best method, and the simplest, was to restrict all movements to the early hours of the morning, when the cold binds the ice mass onto the slopes.
They demand respect, but if given that, the avalanches usually forgive their victims. Not the crevasse.
As the glacier convulses in its serpentine motion, it creates deep cracks or crevasses. These bottomless chasms, seem to run to the bowels of earth. A rock thrown into some of these crevasses clatter for a long time before they fade out of hearing and yet not reach the bottom.
Crevasses seem to have lives of their own. Almost as if each one had a distinct character. Which perhaps they do.
The Glacier’s torque and twisting shapes them, giving them a form. This sometimes remains unchanged for years. At other times it is mercurial like a snowflake. Some crevasses are narrow and straight, almost parallel, in their slice to the core of the earth. Other’s twist and turn on their way to the depths. Some have broad gaping mouths, at times as wide as a mile. Others a slit, just enough for a knife’s blade.
Crevasses are more like treacherous assassins, lying in lurk for its quarry. Almost as if the glacier was a beast which evolved its own ways to trap and kill its prey.
Falling snowflakes land on the lips of the crevasses. When the width of the mouth is just right, those that freeze there, become a receptacle for other flakes and an intricate lattice of ice forms across the mouth of the crevasse. This sort of ‘ice bridge’ has been known to sustain the weight of several tons. Indeed, who knows how many such crevasses exist beneath the thick layer of ice. But at other times, this crust breaks, swallowing the unfortunate soul crossing it. And once the crevasse struck, escape was rare.
The only defense against a crevasse was the ‘Rope’.
When men moved across such terrain, they tied themselves to each other using a long rope.
Between each man there is generally a slack of eight to ten feet. That way if ever one or more were unfortunate enough to discover the existence of a crevasse the hard way, they still stood a
chance of staying alive. A group of men traveling in this manner is called a ‘rope’.
And so it was the early hours of the morning that the ‘rope’ set out on its journey across the twelve kilometers that would bring them to the forward post. This particular one consisted of
eight men, a usual number.
The load each carried though, was more than usually heavy. The summers were fast approaching. (About four months of the year are euphemistically called ‘summer’ because the
temperatures are slightly higher them). It was imperative to stock all the posts with provisions, before the campaigning season began, especially the liquid gold of glacier – kerosene.
In addition to the equipment, each man was carrying a jerry can of the oil, pushing the all told weight to almost 50 Kilos each. The loads were carried on backs using a frame of aluminum harness, thereby keeping the hands free. The going was especially strenuous that day. It had snowed heavily through the night and the surface had still not hardened completely.
Each footstep went down ankle deep. There was a strong cross wind with the gusts abruptly changing directions, staggering the men off balance. The men were very tired. Yet it was better to keep moving than to stop. To halt would mean to let the thin film of sweat freeze in an instant, sapping yet more of the precious body heat. And the thought of the warmth and rest just three kilometers away spurred them on.
It was then that, without warning, that the crevasse struck.
In retrospect it was quite simple to deduce why it could have happened to the last person on the rope. The crust, which had formed over the crevasse, had in all probability been weakened by the passage of seven men across it. Each man’s footstep, boring just a little more into the layer.
And it broke below the feet of the last man. Before he had the time to release the scream of terror, he was plunged into the crevasse. The seven feet of slack accelerated his body weight and the full force of the pull transmitted to the men ahead. It was a very wrong place to be caught.
Most of the men were on an uphill slope and the ground afforded little purchase. Four of the men were immediately jerked off their feet. Those who had the presence of mind went flat on the ground and struck in their ice picks. But the picks ploughed uselessly through the powdery snow and the whole rope was being pulled slowly, towards the crevasse.
Each man in the rope realized the danger that was beckoning them just a few feet away. The panicked struggles of the man inside the crevasse were causing the entire rope to be dragged
gradually but surely into the crevasse. His screams of terror and gyrations only reminded each man of the fate that awaited them. The Patrol Leader screamed at the man inside to stay still, and after what appeared to be an eternity, he seemed to be able to control his panic and stopped moving.
Each man froze in is the place. The worst nightmare of any soldier doing the “link” was unfolding in front of them. They knew that they were caught in a trap. Any motion they made slid them closer to the crevasse and towards certain doom.
Despite the jerk of the fall, the patrol leader thankfully realized that his radio was still near him.
He inched towards it. And his movement caused a fresh drag toward the lip of the crevasse. The situation was obvious. Any attempt to move was to invite disaster. It was a stalemate. The crevasse had played its hand. The next move was left to the men.
The patrol leader had no choice.
‘Cut the rope’ He shouted at the penultimate man who was closest to the lip of the crevasse.
There was an wave of shock amongst the men. To cut the rope was to abandon all chance of saving their comrade dangling between life and death. Almost all chances at least. Yet the more experienced among them realized that the command though brutal, was the only course of action left to be taken. It was clear that the pull caused by the man inside the crevasse was threatening all of them. Their attempts to move had proved just that. And to wait endlessly expecting the situation to change was suicidally stupid. If anything, it would only get worse. The winds would soon freeze them and the last vestiges of energy would be drained battling the cold.
They were caught in an impasse and they realized that. Besides, while they lay pinned, they were powerless to help the man inside. He would dangle there until incredibly low temperature of the interior of the crevasse reduced him to a lump of ice.
Despite the logic it is hard to be the one to cut a man’s lifeline. The soldier drew the knife in his hand but was hesitating.
‘Cut it Damn you’ the patrol leader shouted with fresh venom.
The lash of the order moved the man involuntarily and the blade sliced through the rope.
They could hear the fresh scream of terror as the man inside felt his lifeline give way. But abruptly it stopped. The men gathered themselves and rushed to the lip of the crevasse. They peered in and what they saw was another miracle of the glacier. The men heaved a sigh of relief.
If they could get help in time, maybe there was a chance after all. The patrol leader ran back to his radio and began shouting into it.
Ten minutes later, the news of the accident was relayed to the Base camp. The Base camp is located at the tail of the glacier. Here the glacier succumbs to the decrease of altitude, losing solidity. Melting into a trickle, it meanders into the river Shoyk towards the west. The base camp is also the point where the glacier technically starts. It is a logistic and rescue base rolled into one.
The specially trained rescue team at the base camp has an unenviable job. They are called upon to effect rescue missions to virtually all crisis that occur in the glacier. And there are enough of them to keep them busy.
As soon as the code word for an accident was blared on the loud speaker at the base camp, the rotors of two helicopters began their beat. They would require about 10 minutes of warming up before the blades could painfully gather enough purchase in the thin atmosphere.
And even then, they would be able to transport just one man; at the most, to the altitude they had to operate at. The rescue team itself was in the control room finding out what information they could gather. Which at this stage was not much.
‘Man down in crevasse’ said the base commander.
This particular team was being led by a much younger man.
‘How long?’ he asked as he looked at the map in front of them. He was not particularly bothered about the location . That was the job of the pilots; who were charting a flight plan towards the rescue point. But he had to know the vital information about which area the crevasse was in, simply because each area had it’s own peculiarities.
‘Could be anywhere up to 45 minutes, maybe more. Add the flying time and maybe it would be closer to an hour before you get there.’ said the base commander quite pessimistically.
‘Lousy timing’ said the senior pilot as he looked out of the window.
They all understood what he meant. It was another of the glacier’s peculiarities.
The main valley which contained the glacier averaged the breadth of a kilometer. The glacier itself was fed from the countless smaller and very narrow valleys, many of which hardly ever saw the light of the day because of their narrow mouths and winding structure. As the sun rose during the day, it warmed the air on the glacier. The white iridescent snow acted as a powerful reflector and the air mass was quickly heated.
As the hot air started rising the colder air from the feeder valleys rushed in to fill the vacuum.
This incoming gust created a phenomenon akin to high-speed gales which treacherously shifted its direction and speed. That made flying over the glacier more difficult, as noon approached. And a virtual impossibility after noon.
The pilot glanced at his watch. ‘Three hours max. Do your stuff in that time and we can get back home’ he told the rescue team commander. ‘We are ready when you are.’
The team consisting of four was taken in two lifts. While the helicopter was flying towards the accident site, another rescue team had started from the parent unit. This team also consisting of four, was being transported in snow scooters. In addition to the standard rescue gear, they were carrying hot beverages for the stranded men. Both the teams arrived almost simultaneously at the site.
The helicopter marked the site of the accident and then deliberately veered away to find the drop point which would spare the men below the blast of the rotors down wash. The patrol leader received the rescue team and they started towards the crevasse. The helicopters started on their way back to ferry the second lift.
‘It’s incredible’ said the Rescue Team Commander, looking down the crevasse, as he shook his head in disbelief.
This crevasse plunged straight down for about 30 feet before it narrowed and sharply twisted at an angle. It was this twist which had saved the man inside. While he dropped, his body had got stuck into the wedge made by the twist and he lay there jammed between the two walls of the crevasse.
The Team commander swung the powerful beam of his flash light beyond the man but could see nothing but darkness. He moved the beam back towards the victim. That was another surprise.
The fall itself did not seem to have hurt him much. He was still conscious and coherent. They could only see his upper body but there were no signs of blood. Also, he could move his arms weakly, another good sign. But there was no telling- below his waist.
Preliminary examination over, the rescue team started their work. First, they would anchor the man to a rope. To prevent him from slipping further down. They started clearing the snow on a spot near the edge of the crevasse to find the hard ice surface beneath. Firm enough to hold the piton, which would take the load of the team going in and the victim, when he was brought out.
While the Team Commander worked he was thinking out his strategy.
Crevasse rescue is a complicated task. More often than not, crevasses have overhangs. That usually means icicles growing downward, which ruled out a straight pull. The victim would simply be impaled on the icicles. The work around was to slither down, level to the victim, and anchor him to one’s own body. Then heave the victim away from the crevasse wall using both legs and hands. Each heave had to be timed perfectly with rhythmic pull of the rope above, lest they be dragged across the wall. In this case mercifully, there were no icicles but still the victim was stuck for some time. That meant he would be dead weight.
In any case, his legs are a goner, he thought. Forty minutes in the deep freeze and the doctors have no option but to chop them off. Still, that was not his to worry. It would come later. His preparations finished, he straightened and turned around. They could hear the drone of the approaching helicopters, getting the second set of men.
One last bit remained. They had to know how deep the crevasse was. This was a tricky part. The rescue team has to know the score. They need to know whether the crevasse is very deep or relatively shallow. Makes world of a difference to the way they work.
If it is reasonably shallow, they can at times take risks, secure in the knowledge that a mistake will not plunge them into the depths. It was against rules, but the team sometimes would take off their own safety harness to work unencumbered. However determining the depth is left till the very end. Usually just before the rescue team is going in. There’s good reason for that too.
The reactions of a crevasse victim follow a predictable cycle. The initial moments when he falls in, are of sheer terror. Nobody obviously knows what happens to those who don’t make it, but those who are eventually rescued, gain a fair control of their nerves after a little while. And when they see and sense that efforts are on to rescue them, some even become confident enough to appear positive. They do know that it is not going to be for free. But losing a few digits or maybe even a limb to frostbite is relatively a small price to pay to stay alive.
That is so in the cases when the victim can see that the horror that has struck him, is not so horrible after all.
But there are occasions when the victim discovers that the situation he is in, is actually worse that what it appeared. This new found knowledge can be the trigger which sparks off a wave of fresh panic. In instances like this one.
By this time the victim would have certainly lost all sensation of his body. Might even be fooling himself that his legs are resting on the bottom of the crevasse. If at this juncture he were to discover that he’s stuck in a bottomless chasm, it would be like a weak swimmer detecting that he’s at the deep end of the pool. But it had to be done. As unobtrusively as possible, the Team Commander dropped the chunk of solid ice into the crevasse.
‘Shit’ mouthed the commander involuntarily. The continual clatter of the stone confirmed their worst fear. The crevasse was very deep.
The Team Commander adjusted his harness and started down into the crevasse, his mate playing out the anchor rope while he descended. The rest of the rescue team had reached. They began harnessing themselves to follow.
‘Mike One to base. We are in’ one of them spoke into the radio.
Fifteen kilometers and twelve thousand feet below, the voice crackled out of the speaker, telling the base that the attempt had commenced. As always the base control room was occupied by the members who advised the team actually on ground. Most of the men in the room had a lot more experience to draw upon. The doctor was there too, to counsel about on site resuscitation. Their main purpose was to coordinate other resources that might be demanded by the team up there. And they had another task.
To veto any idea that might endanger the lives of more men. The last job was the most unpalatable one. Indeed the control room has had its share of casualties. The men looked at the clock on the wall. Most eyes turned automatically towards the doctor. He had been waiting for their unspoken query.
‘Slim, very slim’ was all he said.
‘Base, we are coming back’ the voice of the helicopter crew came through.
The first part of the chopper crew’s job was over. The second part was to get the team and the victim back. Something that they did not always achieve. On many an occasion, their return manifest comprised the same number as their inbound one, and in especially unfortunate instances – less.
It was decided that the close confines of the crevasse permitted only two men to work at a time.
The remaining two stood ready to relieve those inside or to effect a secondary rescue. It was not unknown for a member of the rescue team himself to be trapped inside, necessitating another rescue in the bargain.
The Team Commander reached a level with the victim. The relief on the face of the victim was obvious. The commander drew his arms around the victim as the second man of the team slid a looped harness around the upper body of the victim. If nothing else he was not going to plunge any deeper into the crevasse.
On closer scrutiny, the situation became apparent to the rescuers. Their man was stuck between the walls of the crevasse. There was no option but to pull him free. Tough job, but not something they had not done before.
The Team Commander tugged twice on the rope securing the victim, signal to the men above to start pulling. The entire team heaved the rope. Nothing happened.
Puzzled, both the team inside and those waiting at the lip of the crevasse, moved the rope to check if it was snagged somewhere. It wasn’t. The Team Commander repeated his signal and added a shout.
‘Pull harder’, he said as he grasped the rope in his hand.
The men strained with their complete strength, the strain breaking a thin film of sweat on them.
The harness around the victim crunched as it crushed the powdery snow and bunched around his body. But the man did not budge an inch.
The Team Commander first felt it in his hand. It was then that the true horror of the predicament struck. First to the Team commander, then to the team members and finally to the victim.
Up to this time the victim had been surprisingly calm. Arrival of the rescue team and the reassurances he got, had given him hope. That was the drill. Always give hope. It is an inborn survival instinct. Hope. But now he realized that something was dreadfully wrong. From the time of his fall he had been told and instinctively known, not to move. He felt like an insect that had fallen in a spider’s web. Keep still, don’t move. Don’t cause any tremors that may break the fragile grip of the walls and plunge you down, they told him.
Only the grip wasn’t fragile. It was awesomely powerful.
There were, of course, several explanations of what had happened. The victim’s body had been in close contact with the icy walls of the crevasse. His body heat caused a thin film of ice on the wall to melt probably for a fraction of second and them immediately re-freeze. Clutching him there like an ice tray stuck to the floor of the freezer.
And of course, the Glacier moves all the time. So perhaps from the time he fell in, it had been twisting murderously clenching him in a death grip. Who knows? But at that moment inside that crevasse, the commander knew one thing for certain. That the combined strength of nine men could not pull the victim up.
He tugged his own rope twice urgently. He needed to talk to the base. They would know what to do.
They always knew. He was alarmed. This was like nothing that he had faced before. In his panic, he even forgot what his sudden departure would signal to the victim. That would come later.
Right now he had to find a way to get him out.
The men above noticed the repetitive jerking of the rope. They let go of the one they were holding and hauled the Team Commander out. He snatched the handset from the operator and spoke.
‘He’s stuck. We can’t pull him out.’
The control room at the base camp was galvanized by the latest transmission. The Base Commander was not sure he heard this correctly.
‘Mike One, come again’ he said.
‘He’s stuck, Damn it. He is frozen there like an ice cube. We tried pulling him, he is not budging.’
If the circumstances had been otherwise the Base Commander would have felt a small sense of satisfaction. The rescue team was asking for his guidance. Only he did not have any to give.
‘You need more men up?’ he asked.
‘No use. The rope is stretching’ came the dismal reply.
The purport of this statement struck all men in the control room.
The rope used in the glacier, if it had a mind of its own, would probably be offended by the generalized nomenclature it is referred to. This is a specially constructed piece of equipment.
Designed using a complex combination of fibers, its slender proportions belie the fact, that it is one of the strongest materials created by man, And yet when the heft on it exceeds a limit it begins to stretch, seeming to admit that the strain on it was beyond what it creators envisaged it would ever be used for.
The control room was perplexed. The unquestioning faith of the Team Commander on the ability of the control room to find a solution to his problem was painfully evident. The control room had to respond.
‘You got scooters there? Use them.’ Said the Base Commander, referring to the snow scooters he knew to be in the location.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ it was the doctor. ‘If he’s pulled by the scooter it will break his bones.’
‘You have a better idea?’ asked the Base Commander. The doctor looked away.
Up above the Team Commander chided himself for not thinking about it. He gave instructions for the snow scooter to be positioned. They hooked the rope to the snow scooter. The driver glanced at the Team Commander. Seeing him nod he gave the machine its full throttle. The rope bit into the lip of the crevasse digging in a furrow and stretching. Without orders, the men seized the taunt rope and stated pulling at it. It was no use of course, but then in these moments of madness, logic doesn’t work.
The victim did not move.
‘Nothing, no movement’ The Team Commander apprised the control room.
‘Try again’ came the reply from the control room. What else could they say ?.
‘It’s time’ the pilot spoke in the control room.
The control room was jerked back to another cruel reality. The wind was already playing up. The choppers had to go in immediately to get the rescue team back.
It was an irony. They all knew that too. The rescue team for all their skills could not be left stranded up there. It was simply a question of human anatomy. They were stationed in the base camp. Centrally located. To be able to respond to any sector of the glacier. Unfortunately that also meant that they were totally un-acclimatized for the higher altitudes. For them to remain at high altitudes beyond what was absolutely essential was to court disaster. And if the chopper did not go fetch them back now, they would have to be left through the night. Unacceptable risk.
The Base Commander looked at the clock on the wall.
‘Ten minutes?’ he asked the pilot.
The Base commander turned towards the radio.
‘Mike One, you’ve got about twenty minutes before first lift comes. Do your best.’
Up above, the Team Commander looked incredulously at his own watch. Twenty minutes damn,
what could they do in that much time? The situation inside the crevasse was turning nasty. The victim had begun to understand that there was something drastically wrong. That he might not be rescued after all. He began to panic all over again. In a desperate voice then commander instructed the team.
‘We all go in’
The Team Commander and his partner pitched in two fresh ropes using the same anchor and slithered down. They carried their ice axes, and started to hack at the edge of the ice wall. It was useless. The close confines of the crevasses prevented the full swing of the axe. The walls were so hardened that the picks just bounced off them, hardly making a scratch. As they swung ferociously, one of the picks slipped and dug into the victim’s arms. The miserable man cried out as this fresh pain flailed him. Finally realization struck them all. There was no way this man could be pried free from the crevasse.
They could now begin to hear the faint thump of the approaching choppers. Time was up. The Team Commander motioned to his men to start moving up. Very reluctantly they tugged their anchor ropes and started being pulled up. The victim had broken down completely. He was sobbing uncontrollably. Pleading not be left there. The Team Commander fought back to control his own tears. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that he could do. He heard the first sortie land and moments later, take off. They had another twenty minutes or so before the choppers came back for him.
‘Don’t leave me Sahib’ implored the victim.
The Team Commander couldn’t take it anymore. All his training, his skills had never prepared him for a situation where he would have to watch helplessly as a man died painfully, slowly, being able to do nothing about it. There were no words to say, no hope, no consolation to offer.
Somehow the victim seemed to find a new strength. Perhaps he finally got the courage to accept his fate.
His speech was much steadier when he spoke again.
‘My family, Sahib, I have three small children. And my parents, they are old.’
‘They will be looked after, don’t worry’ replied the Team Commander.
‘They should not know that I died like this.’
‘No, they won’t. They will be told that you died immediately on falling.’
‘Tell them. Tell them that…’
‘Yes. What do you want us to tell them?’
‘Tell them that I am sorry. You know, for leaving them like this.’ Fresh tears started streaming down his eyes.
‘Don’t be. They will be looked after.’ The team commander found his own voice choking.
It was uncanny, talking so matter of factly to a man who was about to be left to his death.
Like an unbelievable nightmare. It could not be happening, and yet it was.
‘How much longer?’ asked the victim.
At first, the Team Commander misunderstood. He started to say that the choppers should be coming back any time now, but then he realized what he was being asked.
‘No long’ he lied.
‘It’s not painful, I cannot feel anything’
‘Yes and soon you feel drowsy and that will be it.’
‘I am frightened, Sahib’.
‘Think of god’ the Team Commanded touched his arm. ‘And don’t worry about anything.’ His words sounding empty.
‘Can you.. can you stay till I go, Sahib?’ he asked hesitatingly.
As if to answer his question the feeble drone of the choppers filtered down the crevasse. They were back for him. Suddenly the crevasse seemed a lonely and a terrible place to leave a man to wait for a lingering death. The Team Commander freed one of his hands and gripped his anchor rope. His other hand held the palm of the victim. To tell what was passing through his mind is not something that words can accomplish.
‘I have to go’ he muttered shamefully.
The victim did not let go of his hand. The Team Commander jerked his rope twice.
And then the screaming began. The victim’s shrieks of terror followed the Team Commander all the way to the top. He felt he could hear them even above the din of the rotors. As he pulled out of the crevasse he could feel that the winds had picked up speed. He saw the pilot motioning at him urgently, to board the chopper. His partner was already beginning to pull out the equipment.
The team commander stood motionless at the lip of the crevasse. Time seemed to stop for him.
The downwash of the choppers threw snow and debris all around. He could see the pilots motioning for him to hurry. But he heard nothing. Nothing, except the screams of the man inside the crevasse.
‘Wait ‘ he said abruptly to his mate. ‘I’m going down for a minute.’
‘But Sahib, there is no time’ argued his partner. ‘Even if you have left something it is not worth going back.’
The team commander did not reply. Instead, he started to slide down the crevasse again. His partner seemed to read his mind and reached out to hold him.
‘Don’t do it Sahib’ he implored. ‘It’s not correct.’
‘There is nothing else I can do for him’ the Team Commander jerked his arm free and started down.
‘I am coming with you, Sahib’
‘NO’ he shouted. ‘ I will do this myself.’
‘What’s he doing?’ A Hundred paces away, one of the puzzled pilots asked his co-pilot worriedly.
The gusts were already jostling the helicopter on their skids. The pilot was fighting hard to keep the chopper under control.
‘Victor one to base, what the hell is this chap upto? We can’t hang around here any longer’ the pilot radioed the base camp.
” I have no idea’ came back the voice of the Base Commander. ‘He knows he has to pull out of there.
After what seemed an eternity the Team Commander came out of the crevasse. His partner pulled him out and they began running towards the waiting choppers.
Fifteen minutes later they were back in the base camp. As per the norm the entire team and the air, the crew moved to the control room for debriefing. The Team Commander was not amongst them. Every body thought that it was because he was disturbed. None mentioned his absence.
That evening he was at the bar, well on to a drunken stupor when the Base Commander joined him.
‘Finally, it’s always the bar’ he said to the younger man. ‘Whether we get the man out or not.’
The Team Commander did not move.
‘It is a part of the game.’ Continued the Base Commander. ‘Sometimes we win, other times the glacier. No reason to feel too bad.’
The Team Commander turned slowly to face him.
‘It’s not that’ he said. ‘That’s not why I am sad’.
And as they looked at each other, the Base Commander understood.
For a long moment, they did not speak. Finally, the Base Commander broke the silence.
‘If that’s what you did, it was brave.’
‘I don’t feel very proud.’
‘Nevertheless, it was courageous. Not many would have thought about it, and fewer could have done it.’
The Team Commander did not reply.
‘How?’ asked the Base Commander.
The team commander took a long breath and turned away before answering.
‘I used a rope’
‘No. He knew it was the best way out.’
The Base Commander heaved a sigh and began walking away.
‘There are two more things’ said the team commander.
‘His family has to be told’.
“Obviously, someone will be going to do that, might have already done so, you know’.
‘No. You have to do it’
‘Why?, I mean why me.’
‘Alright, and the other thing?’
‘I want a transfer. I can’t do this job any longer’.
‘Sorry about the second part. No way. You can’t apportion problems without accepting to handle some yourself’. The Base Commander did not wait for a reply as he left the bar.
The cigarette burned my finger and I was jerked back to reality. I mean what I was hearing so far was a fantasy wasn’t it ? I looked at my watch. It was very late. The old man had almost finished.
‘So you see I am coming back from a funeral, figuratively. Because the body is up there inside a crevasse and will be there, from here to eternity.’
‘You are…’ I began.
‘Yes. I am the Base Commander at the base camp.’
We finished our drinks, rose and left for our rooms. Of course, I did not believe a word of what he said.
Things just don’t happen that way, do they?
The author was posted in the Siachen Glacier for a year. He wrote several stories of his experiences in the Glacier. This one was published in 1995 in the Infantry Journal.