A Borderline Encounter

It's not that we aimed to resolve complex geopolitical issues, make a statement, or fraternise with the 'enemy'. But when we came face-to-face within less than a metre of each other, we couldn't not extend a hand of friendship. We did so gingerly, not knowing if it was permitted, or inappropriate. But just like that, a smile broke out on his face and he extended a hand right back. We shook right over the border fence separating our vast, vibrant and often-at-odds countries... and that's how we broke the ice with the Chinese border guard at Nathu-la Pass, Sikkim. It was one of the most human moments in the entire trip!

For the bunch of us friends who took this trip together, Nathu-la was an eagerly anticipated highlight. At 4,300 metres above sea level, Nathu-la is a border crossing between Sikkim in India and Tibet in China. Once a part of the famed Silk Road, the 1962 war between India and China was a death knell to cross-border movements. It was only in the late 2000s that the pass was reopened to trade and tourists. Now, it's also a route for Indian pilgrims on their way to Kailash-Mansarovar in Tibet. The area is still heavily militarised on both sides of the border.

Apprehension and disappointment lashed at us in the form of torrential downpours the evening before our scheduled visit. MG Road, a pedestrianised tourist haven in Gangtok, was desolate, as rain pounded relentlessly for hours. Nathu-la is only open to Indian citizens and that too under a strict, permit based system. Visits could be suspended if there was any perceived risk on the treacherous up-hill drive and rain was among the common reasons. Dinner in the hotel was a sombre affair. There were groups like us whose spirits dived each time we heard the roar of thunder. The salt on our wounds was our tour operator who confirmed that, 'Nathu-La won't be possible'. I could've flung something at him for dismissing us by saying that there's nothing special about it anyways!

Sometime after midnight, all went quiet outside. I can't describe the elation we felt at 6 am when we woke up to see that the rain had shown us mercy. There was a low hanging mist, but no a drop fell earthwards. The tour-operator excitedly called us to say that permits were indeed being issued and that a car would pick us up in a hour. Around two hours later, we were stationary and restless in a parking lot in Gangtok's suburbs, along with around 50 other tourist cars, all awaiting the elusive permits. We only heaved a sigh of relief when the driver came running back from the counter with that precious bunch of official looking papers in hand... we were finally set to go!

The 42 kms from Gangtok to Nathu-la was a vertiginous gradient. The mountains towered over the road on every side, their geological instability erupting in frequent landslides which had pounded the roads like granades, blasting open the smooth asphalt. It was a whole new world at every second turn. The subtropical highland forests of the Gangtok area dissolved into the dark shades of stately conifers, interspersed by Alpine meadows. Then the trees began to get bent and stunted by the force of the elements until they finally gave up and left behind a barren, rocky landscape punctuated only by small shrubs. It was a wild, unkempt kind of beauty.

14 kms before Nathu-la is the tranquil Lake Tsomgo. It's soft ripples reflected the grey of the skies. It's also the last opportunity to rent some heavy winter wear. Those like us from the hot and humid coasts are always easily identifiable in colder areas. We're always the ones with the most outmoded and oddly-matched winter wear! Our driver's cousin ran a shop at Tsomgo and supplied us some gloves, snow boots and jackets.

Lake Tsomgo

We decided to linger around Lake Tsomgo on our way back, since Nathu-la shuts for visitors in the early afternoon. Scarcely a few turns after Tsomgo, the snow line came in sight. Starting with a vanilla ice-cream like dollops scattered on the mountain-side, we were soon firmly surrounded by an undulating sheet of white. The temperature dropped precipitously even with the windows drawn up. A chill, completely unrelated to the weather ran down our spines when we crossed a road sign announcing, 'You are now under Chinese surveillance.'

The visitors parking is a little away from the border. Blasts of icy wind hit us as soon as we stepped out of the car. We had been forewarned to take it easy. The air was thin and altitude sickness not uncommon among overenthusiastic visitors. I was sorely tempted to hop from foot to foot just to get the cold out of my bones, but didn't dare to risk it. From the parking lot, we had a short but torturous uphill walk, followed by a terrifyingly slippery flight of stairs. Halfway up, a solemn memorial stood in respect to those martyred here in the '62 war.

The slippery stairs to the border

It was a moment of sheer ecstasy to be up here at last. Atop the flight of stairs was a plateau where the two countries met. The Indian border outpost was a simple low-rise structure, with colourful images from across the country on its walls. A low fence ran through the centre of the plateau and on the other side was the ostentatiously out of place Chinese outpost. Below the plateau, to the left, massive gates arched over the trade road through to China. It is essentially just a border crossing, but you need to be there, need to know the complex relationship between our two countries, to fathom the gravity of it all. It was an unparalleled surge of patriotism, but also an urge to reach out to those on the other side. So that's just what we did with the only person within arm's length... the Chinese soldier.

Doesn't mean that we forgot our our own soldiers who guard these inhospitable outposts. We, and many others had a long conversation with one of our brave men. He explained to us in great detail of how day-to-day life is at Nathula... and also warned us not to venture out anywhere outside the official tourist area as the place is covered in land mines... point noted sir! It was a spontaneous outpouring of our sentiments that we huddled together and sang the national anthem.

You can make out the Indian border outpost in the background.
BRO - Border Roads Organisation

For security reasons, photography is not permitted at Nathu-la border. But all of us tourists were more than happy to receive Certificates of Visit signed by the Garrison Officer.

We had big smiles plastered on our faces as we drove back down to Tsomgo Lake, where the shopkeeper's wife had cooked us the most heart-warming Thukpa - a Tibetan noodle soup. The coal-fired brazier sizzled in the centre of the tiny living room behind the shop. We congregated around it and raised a toast with our bowl-fulls of Thukpa.. to yet another unforgettable experience!

In all the excitement, I couldn't help striking an SRK pose!

This post is the second in a series of posts about a trip to the North-East of India covering Darjeeling and Sikkim.

Further reading:

• Part 1: The Real Song of Ice & Fire
• Part 3: The Stony-faced Sentinels