On the Siachen glacier, named after the pink Sia blossoms that bloom across Ladakh in the summer months, winter had fallen. The flowers had long gone, their plump petals reduced to a brown papery crust that had curled and dropped to the ground. The birds and insects had disappeared too. A thick blanket of snow covered the stumps of dead bushes and smothered all life. It also hid the mouths of deep crevasses and blurred the edges of precipices to the extent that it became impossible to tell where a man could step safely and where the snow would give way under his feet, sending him hurtling down to a nasty death. Movement between the Siachen base camp and Peak 4212 had ceased and would resume only when the summer sun melted the snow next year.
For the ten men of 8 Parachute Regiment, manning Peak 4212, it was going to be the longest six months of their life. Since the winter cut them off completely, they would have to fend for themselves until the snow melted opening the way to the base camp once again. Only then would another company of soldiers replace them and they would trek back to the base camp and eventually head home.
During these lonely months, the only connection the men had to their loved ones were Pista and Pisti - two big Gaddi stray dogs who lived in the base camp and visited them occasionally. The dogs had learnt to carry post to the peak for a reward of fish and meat. Heavy and ferocious, the dogs were however light footed and experts at navigating frozen ice that could crack under a man’s weight. Letters for Peak 4212 would be tied around the dogs’ necks at the base camp and the two would head for the peak, knowing that tinned rations and a warm welcome awaited them there. After spending some time there, they would head back for the base camp, making another trip only when the next consignment of letters arrived.
Lately, a new canine connoisseur of good quality Army rations had joined them. The men had named him Kaju, because of his muddy white tail that curved like a fat cashew. While Pista and Pisti would jump on the men, lick their faces and arch their backs to rub against their trouser legs, Kaju would stay away from such crass displays of affection. He was a loner. Sitting wound up in a tight coil, his big nose tucked inside his tail to avoid the chill, he would patiently wait for food. Any attempts at friendliness were rebuffed with a deep growl. Kaju was doing the long trek only for the meat, and he made no... ahem...bones about that.
Lately, Kaju had started making occasionally lone trips as well. The men would sometimes find him outside their hut barking gruffly to make his presence felt. Desperate for company, they would greet him with generous helpings of tinned meat or fish. He would devour this in large greedy mouthfuls and lick his white enamel plate clean. Then he would shake the snow off his matted fur and make his way back to the base camp. He would never bring any letters but his visits were still welcome. For the lonely men ticking days off on a frayed calendar, he was a sign that life waited for them across the frozen glacier.
One morning, the men set out on a routine patrol lead by their Company Commander, Captain Sameer Singh. Progress was painfully slow. Temperatures on the peak dipped below minus 40 degree celsius and at 21,000 feet, the low oxygen content made breathing difficult. The weight of their triple layered snowsuits and boots made every step an achievement for the men. Covering a distance of 20 meters sometimes took them an hour because of the sheer effort. Tied to each other by ropes, the men made their way through the bleak white landscape. Far in the distance, they could see the huts of the Pakistanis as grey specks in the endless white, which gave purpose to their lonely foray.
Just when they were about to turn back for their camp, the men heard whimpering sounds coming from inside a gaping crevasse. Short and slim built paratrooper Ranjit Rajwada, walked to the edge and peered in. He could make out the fuzzy outline of a big dog stuck 20 meters below on a narrow jutting in the mountainside. It was Kaju. The dog had sensed his presence and was barking piteously now, taking care that the force of his barking did not throw him off the ledge. He had probably fallen into the crevasse on a visit to 4212 and had been lucky enough to land on a ledge that had broken his fall. He was unharmed but there was no way he could have come out on his own. A painful death awaited him.
“We have to get him out Sahabjee,” Paratrooper Hoshiar Singh, a tall Jat with four children in a village in Haryana was publicly exhibiting signs of human feeling. “Are you mad? I can lose a man there,” the Company Commander cut him short. A passionate discussion followed. The general opinion was that the dog couldn’t be left behind. The officer in charge was apprehensive about losing a man for a dog. Besides, it was getting late and they had more than two hours of trek back to the camp. Rajwada, who had been listening to the debate quietly so far, insisted that he should be the one to go down since he was lighter and not married either.
Finally, it was decided that Rajwada would go. A rope was tied around his slim waist and he was slowly lowered onto the vertical face of the mountain. With ice pick in one gloved hand and the thick nylon rope in the other, he climbed down. The sheer drop made it difficult to find a footing and at every step he would have to kick with his boot to make a foot hold in the wall of snow, thus descending into the crevasse one step at a time. After a tricky hour Rajwada finally reached the ledge from where the dog was watching with his tail tucked between his legs. Suddenly there was a sharp cry of pain. Kaju had snapped at Rajwada who was quick to realize it was not possible to hold a big unwilling dog with sharp teeth under the arm and climb out. “Leave him if he is getting aggressive. Just get out, the weather is packing up,” Rajwada heard the Captain say. He could feel the sweat in his palms freezing and needles of ice pricking him like ant bites under his gloves.
He tried making one more attempt to grab the dog but a scared, cold and confused Kaju snarled back, his sharp teeth menacing in the sunlight. “Drop me a rope,” Rajwada yelled. A fat rope slid by and he laced it into a loose lasso. Moving closer to the growling dog, he flung it around his furry neck. Pulling it tight with a yank he looked up and shouted, “Pull”. Before the startled dog knew what was happening the rope had pulled him off the ledge and he was dangling from his neck into the crevasse.
The men pulled with all their might and were startled to find the rope emerge with the big Gaddi dog hanging from his neck. The rope was cut and Kaju sat there, too dazed to move. Meanwhile Rajwada had been pulled up as well. Breathless with the effort of the rescue, eyes watering from the cold, he was nevertheless grinning from ear to ear. “You ass, you nearly broke the bloody dog’s neck,” the Captain laughed in relief. “Sahabjee, you went to an Angreji school but let me tell you the moral of this story,” said the large Hoshiar Singh, towering over his company commander. “Dawg is man’s best frand,” he said. “No you bloody fool, moral of the story is: sometimes man is dawg’s best frand,” the Captain muttered even as his men broke into raucous laughter.
Rajwada watched Kaju lift his tail up in its trademark arch and set off in the direction of the base camp without so much as a wag of thank you. He tied himself back to the retinue of men and they slowly trudged their way back to Peak 4212 in a single file, the rays of the setting sun turned their snowsuits a dull orange. Today, summer didn’t seem so far away
For the ten men of 8 Parachute Regiment, manning Peak 4212, it was going to be the longest six months of their life. Since the winter cut them off completely, they would have to fend for themselves until the snow melted opening the way to the base camp once again. Only then would another company of soldiers replace them and they would trek back to the base camp and eventually head home.
During these lonely months, the only connection the men had to their loved ones were Pista and Pisti - two big Gaddi stray dogs who lived in the base camp and visited them occasionally. The dogs had learnt to carry post to the peak for a reward of fish and meat. Heavy and ferocious, the dogs were however light footed and experts at navigating frozen ice that could crack under a man’s weight. Letters for Peak 4212 would be tied around the dogs’ necks at the base camp and the two would head for the peak, knowing that tinned rations and a warm welcome awaited them there. After spending some time there, they would head back for the base camp, making another trip only when the next consignment of letters arrived.
Lately, a new canine connoisseur of good quality Army rations had joined them. The men had named him Kaju, because of his muddy white tail that curved like a fat cashew. While Pista and Pisti would jump on the men, lick their faces and arch their backs to rub against their trouser legs, Kaju would stay away from such crass displays of affection. He was a loner. Sitting wound up in a tight coil, his big nose tucked inside his tail to avoid the chill, he would patiently wait for food. Any attempts at friendliness were rebuffed with a deep growl. Kaju was doing the long trek only for the meat, and he made no... ahem...bones about that.
Lately, Kaju had started making occasionally lone trips as well. The men would sometimes find him outside their hut barking gruffly to make his presence felt. Desperate for company, they would greet him with generous helpings of tinned meat or fish. He would devour this in large greedy mouthfuls and lick his white enamel plate clean. Then he would shake the snow off his matted fur and make his way back to the base camp. He would never bring any letters but his visits were still welcome. For the lonely men ticking days off on a frayed calendar, he was a sign that life waited for them across the frozen glacier.
One morning, the men set out on a routine patrol lead by their Company Commander, Captain Sameer Singh. Progress was painfully slow. Temperatures on the peak dipped below minus 40 degree celsius and at 21,000 feet, the low oxygen content made breathing difficult. The weight of their triple layered snowsuits and boots made every step an achievement for the men. Covering a distance of 20 meters sometimes took them an hour because of the sheer effort. Tied to each other by ropes, the men made their way through the bleak white landscape. Far in the distance, they could see the huts of the Pakistanis as grey specks in the endless white, which gave purpose to their lonely foray.
Just when they were about to turn back for their camp, the men heard whimpering sounds coming from inside a gaping crevasse. Short and slim built paratrooper Ranjit Rajwada, walked to the edge and peered in. He could make out the fuzzy outline of a big dog stuck 20 meters below on a narrow jutting in the mountainside. It was Kaju. The dog had sensed his presence and was barking piteously now, taking care that the force of his barking did not throw him off the ledge. He had probably fallen into the crevasse on a visit to 4212 and had been lucky enough to land on a ledge that had broken his fall. He was unharmed but there was no way he could have come out on his own. A painful death awaited him.
“We have to get him out Sahabjee,” Paratrooper Hoshiar Singh, a tall Jat with four children in a village in Haryana was publicly exhibiting signs of human feeling. “Are you mad? I can lose a man there,” the Company Commander cut him short. A passionate discussion followed. The general opinion was that the dog couldn’t be left behind. The officer in charge was apprehensive about losing a man for a dog. Besides, it was getting late and they had more than two hours of trek back to the camp. Rajwada, who had been listening to the debate quietly so far, insisted that he should be the one to go down since he was lighter and not married either.
Finally, it was decided that Rajwada would go. A rope was tied around his slim waist and he was slowly lowered onto the vertical face of the mountain. With ice pick in one gloved hand and the thick nylon rope in the other, he climbed down. The sheer drop made it difficult to find a footing and at every step he would have to kick with his boot to make a foot hold in the wall of snow, thus descending into the crevasse one step at a time. After a tricky hour Rajwada finally reached the ledge from where the dog was watching with his tail tucked between his legs. Suddenly there was a sharp cry of pain. Kaju had snapped at Rajwada who was quick to realize it was not possible to hold a big unwilling dog with sharp teeth under the arm and climb out. “Leave him if he is getting aggressive. Just get out, the weather is packing up,” Rajwada heard the Captain say. He could feel the sweat in his palms freezing and needles of ice pricking him like ant bites under his gloves.
He tried making one more attempt to grab the dog but a scared, cold and confused Kaju snarled back, his sharp teeth menacing in the sunlight. “Drop me a rope,” Rajwada yelled. A fat rope slid by and he laced it into a loose lasso. Moving closer to the growling dog, he flung it around his furry neck. Pulling it tight with a yank he looked up and shouted, “Pull”. Before the startled dog knew what was happening the rope had pulled him off the ledge and he was dangling from his neck into the crevasse.
The men pulled with all their might and were startled to find the rope emerge with the big Gaddi dog hanging from his neck. The rope was cut and Kaju sat there, too dazed to move. Meanwhile Rajwada had been pulled up as well. Breathless with the effort of the rescue, eyes watering from the cold, he was nevertheless grinning from ear to ear. “You ass, you nearly broke the bloody dog’s neck,” the Captain laughed in relief. “Sahabjee, you went to an Angreji school but let me tell you the moral of this story,” said the large Hoshiar Singh, towering over his company commander. “Dawg is man’s best frand,” he said. “No you bloody fool, moral of the story is: sometimes man is dawg’s best frand,” the Captain muttered even as his men broke into raucous laughter.
Rajwada watched Kaju lift his tail up in its trademark arch and set off in the direction of the base camp without so much as a wag of thank you. He tied himself back to the retinue of men and they slowly trudged their way back to Peak 4212 in a single file, the rays of the setting sun turned their snowsuits a dull orange. Today, summer didn’t seem so far away
Picture by Raman Adhikari
Picture by Raman Adhikari
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