Day had dawned and we had seen tourists doing the early morning ride on the Shikhara. Birds flitted in and out of the water plants. For long I had wanted to see the Shankaracharya temple in Srinagar and we drove to it. The temple is on top of the Shankaracharyaji hill guarded by CRPF and is open to the devout from 7:30 Am. There is a drive of 7/8 kms on the hill before we reach the parking spot. Then we climb around 250 steps to reach it.  I was surprised to see it was a Shiva temple with a huge Linga inside and Shankaracharya sitting guard outside. We tried to recite Medha Sukta as our humble homage to Shankaracharya but the pictures in the mobile didn't help and we missed our book. Old, young and infirm climbed up the steps of the temple high on devotion. Srinagar is sprawled at the foothills of this hillock called "Shankaracharyaji"

The Srinagar I saw was poor. All I saw were Army Men Standing gun in hand every 100 meters. It is so painful, all these people come from far off places and stand "seena than ke" guarding people and the land. It is a very painful sight. Every time I saw an army man I would immediately search to see if he was wearing bulletproof vests. They stood at the crossroads, they were on roof tops, I saw them walking into shops with guns held, they were all around Dal Lake. I searched for "Kasheera" here, I searched for "The Kashmir Files". But the most painful memory of Srinagar will be those army men standing guard. Was that normal security or was it beefed up for the Amarnath Yatra? I don't know. But that pain is in my soul.

I  sit here in Kargil facing a snow covered peak. The next peak  has less snow and the ones around the valley in which we are staying are all bare. The river Suru is crooning feebly as she flows right outside the gate. It is like you step out and you can dive in for a swim. Her song is all I hear, a very rare vehicle noisily butts in and drives past.

The previous day we had traveled from Srinagar  and had crossed Drass the place where Indians had  pushed back the Pakistanis. The significance of  that battle hit hard when the soldier pointed out NH1 between Leh and Srinagar which was taken over by the Pak army and which we had driven through the whole of that day. We were at Kargil War Memorial situated at the foothills of the hills including Tiger hill where this battle was fought. Right behind that hill is LOC and Pakistan. Not having worm thermals my legs shivered  and I fidgeted as the Army man narrated the battle of Kargil. 

We had been driving on NH1 among breathtaking landscape. We had crossed Zojila pass and Sonamarg before that. We were spoilt for choice. Do we admire the snow covered peaks in Sonamarg, or the huge glaciers dropping from crevices of  the hills and sitting flush on the ground? Some melted one drop at a time while others streamed out as springs. Nomads driving their long furry sheep/ goat had taken over the highway at one point and it was a photo op. Their caparisoned horses with their household stuff were being driven by the women folk. The sheep dogs  were all over the place.

Do we admire the Deodars marching up the hills or the green meadows dotted with sheep or  the hills waiting for them to climb over them? Were the hills made of sandstone? Colorful hills they were and so varied. We had crossed hills which were jagged all along and at their feet were stone shavings like wood shavings. There were hills that were pure white dust like lime in solidarity with the snow that would cover them later perhaps? As we neared Drass we saw  rust red hills. Did they have iron deposits?

River Indus flows along this highway and its melt water is so pure. We had stopped at a point to pay our respects to the river that had birthed our civilization. She gurgled in places, gushed in others and rushed past stones in a hurry in others. She reminded me of Alakananda who accompanied us from Haridwar to Mana on our Valley of flowers trip.  Earlier we had done the snow mobile ride up a glacier and I had screamed all the way behind the driver thinking I would fly off it or the mobile would topple over as he weaved over bumps covered by a thick blanket of snow over a hill.

We had crossed Baltal a few Kms away. Baltal is the base camp for Amarnath Yatra and this crossing reminded me of crossing Joshimath on our way to Badrinath. Joshimath is at the crossroads of Kedarnath and Badrinath. Did  crossing Baltal indicate Barfani Baba would invite us to His cave? 

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