Defying death in Ladakh

"BRO, It’s better to be late, than late Mr.”

Dear Global Jigsaw,

In August, my family spent 10 days traveling through the Himalayan regions of Ladkah and Kashmir. Here are links to part 1 and 2 of this travelogue. Read on for the next chapter.

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Driving up, and through, Zoji La pass in the remote Himalayan mountains that connect the lush green valley of Kashmir with the barren, Mars-scape of Dras, is an exercise in defying death. The pass is located at 3,500 meters and the road is a barely paved, landslide-prone, single track with two-way traffic, that wraps around the mountain like a deadly merry-go-round. To the right, a steep slope descends into an abyss, the bottom of which is so far away as to be almost invisible, and there are no guard rails to maintain even the illusion of safety.

Credit: Pallavi Aiyar

My husband is white knuckled and looks like he is about to throw up. We are on our way to spend a few days in Dras, redolent with images of the 1999, India-Pakistan war that was fought in the region. Our intentions, however, are not militaristic, but naturalist. Dras is a haven for the Himalayan Brown Bear, on whose trail we are traveling.

There is a heavy Indian army presence along the way. Trucks whose cargo is covered in camouflage-patterned tarpaulins, careen round the bends at speeds that would make a believer out of the most hardened atheist. How else, but the will of God, can one explain the fact that no one on this road is falling to their death?

To add to the surrealism, we spot an enormous truck dragging a trailer with what looks like a ship. At 3,500 feet. Are we hallucinating because of the thin oxygen?

Our driver, who has been handling the whole trip with stunning insouciance, including talking the occasional one-handed selfie, explains that the boat is headed for Pangong Tso, where it will join others in patrolling the waters, telescope trained on China. Pangong Tso is a 134 kilometer wide lake, located at 13,900-feet (4,200 meters) in eastern Ladakh. In India, it is now part of our common geographical lexicon because of the face-off between Indian and Chinese troops that took place there in 2020.   

To add to the adrenaline we don’t need, we realize that we are traveling in the region where three nuclear armed powers, India, Pakistan and China, have their sangam.

In an attempt to bring levity to the terrifying situation, I begin to read the road signs that punctuate the way. We are all surprised at the Gen Z language deployed.

“BRO, Be Alert, Accidents hurt!” reads one. I am almost expecting the next one to address its audience as “DAWG,” when I figure out that BRO stands for the Border Roads Organization. And while Zoji La Pass (which appositely translates as mountain of blizzards in the local language) may not be something for BRO to flex about (Gen Z parents – please note my continued felicity with the lingo), their signs are pure gold.

This post is an ode to the BRO poets who kept us entertained throughout the journey.

Some of their road safety haikus:

“BRO, life doesn’t have a reset button. It is short, don’t make it shorter.”

“BRO, It’s always better to be late, than being late Mr.”

“Drive like hell, and you will be there.”

“Safety is a state of mind. Accident is absence of mind.”

Credit: Pallavi Aiyar

“Fast drive, could be last drive.”

“BRO, After Whiskey, Driving Risky”

Credit: Julio Arias

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That’s it for this week, dear reader. Next time, we’ll look at Brown Bears and cultural crossroads on the ancient Silk Route. Please do share and comment. I always love to hear from you.

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Hasta luego,

Pallavi