The Amarnath trail

Though life had not given Krishna Thakur the small joys that matter, she had not turned against God. Doing the Amarnath yatra all by hers...

Though life had not given Krishna Thakur the small joys that matter, she had not turned against God. Doing the Amarnath yatra all by herself, she had only one burning desire 8212; peace and blessings for her family which, incidentally, was also the source of many of her woes.

Krishna had been fasting regularly since she was a child and now, on these mountain passes at 14,000 feet, despite clear warnings against travelling on an empty stomach, she had not been able to give up the habit. That day being Monday, the day of Shiva, she was all the more determined that she would eat only after a darshan of her Lord.

Dressed in a thin suit and chappals, Krishna had clearly not taken the precautions expected of a yatri on the three-day ascent from Pahalgam. She hardly had any spare garments and no woollies. Neither did she have a stick, a raincoat or spare shoes, all very necessary in the uncertain weather of the mountain reaches that had claimed hundreds of lives the previousyear.

Struck by the 60-year-old woman8217;s brisk, solitary march, I offered to help her with her small bag. Walking together, we began to hurry towards the cave, which was still 14 km away.

Married at a young age to a shopkeeper in Jhaggar, Haryana, Krishna had had a rather unhappy life. Her husband regularly beat her until their two sons were married. Then, eager to be looked after by his young daughters-in-law, he had ignored her. The sons, knowing that it was their father who controlled the property, also cared little for the mother. But for Krishna, even after about 40 years of maltreatment, the family remained her only passion, her only possession.

For me, Krishna was the quintessential Indian woman. Devout and dedicated, resolute and caring, hardy and affectionate. Pushed about by her family, she probably had not, for a moment in her life, let a thought against them cross her mind.

A temple was for her the abode of peace, the place where wishes were granted. She returned to it whenever the stormsturned into tempests. And the Amarnath cave was like the ultimate destination.

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The few clothes, the chappals, the little money she was carrying, all showed that her family had not bothered to find out where she was going. And Krishna had not given a damn about the difficulties of the trek. Despite their hostility, the members of her family were still topmost in Krishna8217;s mind and chanting the Lord8217;s name, she was praying Him to grant them some sanity.

We took turns carrying Krishna8217;s bag so that she could have a darshan of the three-eyed god8217;s ice lingam before the sun set. Blessing us for our concern, she accompanied us till the last base camp of Panjtharni, 6 km from the holy cave, where we decided to stop for lunch and she to move on with our porter for company.

But soon the clouds began to make their presence felt. It was 3 pm and having been assured that the descent to the Baltal base camp would take five hours, we didn8217;t stop for long.

Despite our speed, we couldn8217;t catch up withKrishna. The call of Shiva8217;s abode had apparently given her wings. Almost a kilometre before the cave, in the light drizzle, we found our porter waiting for us, grim-faced. Krishna had slipped on the ice and injured her arm.

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8220;Where8217;s she now?8221; we asked. 8220;She wanted to go to the stream,8221; he said, pointing to the ice-cold rivulet nearby. Despite her injury, Krishna wouldn8217;t go to the cave without the customary bath. And while we, scared by the drizzle and eager to hurry on to the safety of Baltal, had a rather quick darshan, Krishna was in no hurry to leave the abode of her lord.

In the end, did all that make her a happier person? I8217;m not entirely sure.