Col Mani K Gahatraj

The path was a combination of mule track and foot path and it was passing through varieties of jungle landscape and fauna. We passed through pine forest, then came the small structured bamboo jungle locally called “Mallebu”, then came giant sized ferns heralding the path on both sides like a natural decoration to welcome the weary traveler. As we consumed the distance and moved closer towards Gorkhey the path became steeper descent that was not very kind to my old creaking knees. The umbrella stick was a great help and support. We indulged ourselves with quick halts sipping ORS water and passing body water. We trudged along slowly and surely.

Phalut has only one Government owned Trekker’s Hut that looks an imposing colonial type hill cottage from outside but a haunted house from inside. The rooms were shabby suffering from years of neglect. Kitchen had the ancient wooden fire place for cooking and most part was black with wood fire soot collected over the years. I walked into the kitchen and found couple of people, not tourists, sitting by the fire and chatting, obviously this was the only available place in the huge colonial house that was warm to sit by. I walked in and announced in Gorkhali to the people present,” I am 70 year old retired colonel, just arrived after 21 kms trek, how are you guys going to make me comfortable”. Immediately there was commotion and everyone got up. The forest Guard got up and offered me the coveted chair. I asked as to who was who and found out that the one by the fire place was the care taker as he proudly told me, “ I am from the Tourism Department”. Rest was guides who had arrived earlier. I asked for a cup of tea and the care taker got busy brewing it in a black kettle, hardened by years of sitting on wooden fire. I learnt that the Tourism guy was the one and only representative of the Government. He was cook, care taker, cleaner, maintenance man, procurement officer, house keeper and overall in-charge. However, the Forest Guard being more elderly as also senior man of the Government, with beat post located adjacent to the lodge, was the de-facto boss of the town, specially for the weary guides and porters. When I pulled my rank and age he chickened out of the comfortable chair against the fire to my advantage and I promptly occupied it. How small things matter at the right time and place. Like when we march in the Army, during breaks the best shaded tree obviously goes to the senior most without questions asked. When I was climbing a snow covered mountain in Arunachal Pradesh in the winter of 1989, we had to camp for the night. It was snowing and the ground was too wet our tents, our local guide found a cave and made himself comfortable with a wood fire to boot. I walked into the cave with authority and sat by the fire occupying the only comfortable rock to sit on. Slowly my company commander followed and sat next to me and then another. Finally we found ourselves, a party of 10 reconnaissance team sitting by the fire. Later we ate and slept there, needless to say, me occupying the most comfortable slot next to the fire.