It was not an easy journey, even on horse back. Trying to catch my breath I swung off the saddle, gingerly testing my legs, my feet, my lungs… It was a long arduous climb, and I was at an altitude of 15,200 feet. The air was rare.

But a few footsteps forward and I was perfectly all right, as if by magic there descended upon me a sense of peace. Up a small slope and there in front of me was the Gurudwara, like a star unfolding. I walked to it and past it and around it. I kept walking like as if I had been there before and knew where I was going. But I hadn’t and I didn’t. Guided by a feeling I continued to walk and then right there, just behind the Gurudwara, I came across a most enchanting sight. It’s difficult to describe the complete picture or express the total feeling, but quite simply, I saw a lake. Placid, tranquil, reflecting the snowcapped peaks around. It was a vision that cannot be described, only felt, sensed. There were some pilgrims there, shivering in wet kachh (boxer shorts), getting into dry clothes after taking a holy dip in the icy cold water, that lasts just a few moments. I admired their courage, dwelled on what faith can make us do and slowly passed by them and continued to walk away from the holy shrine. I reached a tiny nondescript temple with one lone priest sitting outside it and learned that the temple was dedicated to Lord Lakshman, the younger brother of Ram. Perplexed that it had no visitors, when there were so many around, I continued to walk till I was almost at the opposite bank. There, I sat on a moss covered rock, for a long time amidst flowers, admiring God’s handiwork and man’s ingenuity. It must have been a mammoth task building a stone and masonry shrine at this altitude. The star shaped Gurudwara surrounded by seven snow capped peaks with fluffy clouds, all reflecting in the Hemkund Lake, looked breathtakingly beautiful from my perch. In some strange way it felt like I didn’t exist. And nothing mattered. Don’t ask me to explain that. But in order to come back to earth I did feel the need to take my socks and shoes off, roll up my jeans and get into the freezing water. Standing on a slippery moss covered stone and said a quick prayer. I’d heard someone say doing that absolves you off your sins. Well, we are all sinners one way or the other and that chilling experience was as invigorating as it was soul cleansing.

After I had drunk in the beauty of the place, imbibed its stillness, let calmness seep into me, I gathered my mind and set about the task at hand, talking to the ghoda-walas who bring the pilgrims up, the people serving the langar, and of course shooting pictures. Returning past the Lakshman temple I sat awhile and talked to the priest. It was here that Lakshman performed penance. It is said he meditated by the lake and regained his health after being severely wounded by Megnath, son of the Demon Ravan, during the battle.
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I then entered the Gurudwara, dedicated to Shri Guru Gobind Singh Ji, the 10th and last Guru of the Sikhs, and took a flight of stairs to the prayer hall, in time to hear the last of the Kirtan and to receive prasad being distributed. It was a large, dark room with light streaming in only through the bay windows and hundreds of pilgrims seated on the floor listening to the head priest. Any congregation of such a nature creates a beautiful energy and this was no different. In fact it was even more special because Hemkund Saheb has the world’s highest holy shrine. The place was discovered by a Sikh havaldar, Solan Singh in 1930, after matching the descriptions (a small lake, high up, surrounded only by seven hills near Pandukeshwar), from the holy scriptures of the Granth Sahib. The glaciers of the Hathi Parvat and the Sapt Rishi feed the serene lake.

Hemkund means a snow lake and the mountains around are collectively called Hem Parvat. The lake, frozen for eight months of the year, is about 2 km in circumference, with clear, placid waters and is the source of the Laxman Ganga. It is the most beautiful place on the earth that I have ever visited, and, I have visited many such. Here the lake takes on its own aura. There was snow on its embankment across and even ice floating in it, reflecting the sunlight now and then, glinting playfully. The moss, the flowers, the cool air, a temple bell, the sacred Gurudwara, the tranquility… no wonder then it is such a revered destination for the Sikhs, not unlike the Holy Kaaba in Mecca for the Muslims.

After the Kirtan I went into the hall where the langar was being served. Today it was hot milk with finely cut dry fruits in it, most welcome in the chilly weather. With cold hands I clasped the warm bowl and came out in the open, settling myself on a low wall. Sipping the contents I noticed, people don’t stay long up here. They come visit the Gurudwara, maybe take that holy dip, partake in the langar and start to walk back. One primary reason for the quick exit I was told, was the lack of oxygen.

But I found that hard to believe. The age group of the visitors was right from infants in arms to men and women in their 80s! Age didn’t deter the frail, old people from coming up and quite a few of them made it by walking up, shunning the mules and the human carriage. Hats off to those I saw doing that, slowly and steadily with just a stick in hand. There were a lot of newly married couples also around. Sure, it would be the nicest way of starting a new life together. And then there
were quite a few people who had come from abroad to specially make this trip to Hemkund Saheb. I could hear
the foreign accents and tell who these were. I noticed, surprisingly, they were also the ones who had walked
up barefoot. Must be true, the further away we go from our Motherland, the more rooted we get.

I had started from Ghangaria, my night halt, at dawn. This was to enable me to make a direct, non-stop descent back to Govindghat, at the base. So when I started to return, at about 11 a.m., I noticed a lot of people were still climbing up. Ghangaria is the last human habitation in the tiny valley, a little pine surrounded dot on this route. It houses, in addition to log huts and ordinary lodges, a Gurudwara where Sikh pilgrims might halt for the night. It’s a steep 7 km climb from there on, most of it on cobbled stones. Ostensibly to help the mules along, but from what I saw it was really tough on them, with many slipping now and then. In addition to the mule track going up, the last part has steps, a 1,000 in all, that takes one up directly in line with the Gurudwara as you climb the last few steps. A joyful sight, indeed.

Walking down, my search for the Bramha Kamal took me off the marked route. I had to see and shoot this flower from up close. With a little bit of help and a lot of daring I found myself negotiating a tricky hill-side. The Bramha Kamal has a lot of religious significance. This flower blooms only in very special places. When you think of the altitude and how so many flowers bloom, bob in the wind and survive here, it’s nothing short of a miracle.

Listening to chants and cries of ‘Wahe Guru’, through pine forests and rhododendrons, wild roses and ferns, I first reached Ghangaria and after a quick refreshment, walked down to Govindghat, passing the surging waters of the Laxman Ganga, its roar, music to my ears. Once in Govindghat, hungry as hell, I devoured some hot aloo parathas with pungent mango pickle. Dawn to dusk, it was a memorial day in my life. Days you count as extraordinary when you sit in silence at some point later, trying to understand lifes’ meanings, life’s mysteries. Wahe Guru…

Hemkund Saheb is in Uttaranchal, visit it between August and October.