Captain

by Swatilekha Roy (India)

Making a local connection India

Up here in the lonely mountains that keep their secrets, my imagination was all out in the open. I was trying to trace the Orion with the tips of my toes, all the while humming a tune that I had heard on my Dad’s almost prehistoric radio set years ago. There was no moon to be seen. A few meters away, stood the humble home stay in Lachung village where I was being housed, all clad in darkness at this hour of the night. Wong had specifically pointed out it was not safe to be roaming in the wilderness after the sun had fallen because the mountain spirits were supposedly an unfriendly cult. I had simply nodded my head, thanked him profusely for the homemade pickle and roti and even cutting him off with supernatural narratives that were popular back in my father’s ancestral home that heightened his curiosity. Eventually, I waited for the house to fall asleep and had then tiptoed out, with the sleeping bag under my armpits. Every once in a while, my hands involuntarily touched my trouser pocket- but just as my therapist had said, back counting to zero helped. The cold was insane and I was thankful for the double jackets wrapped around me. The grass gently grazed my naked fingers while a ring of pine trees made a swooshing sound with the mountain breeze. Secrets. A sudden woof broke into my train of thoughts. I lazily turned my head and found another pair of eyes stare back at me. It was a moment before I could make out a dog, the patches of white on its tanned hide that reminded me of the barren snow-capped mountains. I cuddled him and let him sit beside me for a while, while he panted and tucked at my sleeves. “What is it, Captain?” He kept whining softly. “Do you want to take me somewhere?” He started pulling at my sleeves harder. I sighed and resolved. As crazy as it sounded, I was ready to follow this dog to wherever he wanted to take me. My hand flew towards my pocket yet again, but I resisted. Yet again. Captain started his exciting journey with a dramatic ceremony which included spinning around me. Then, I strode up the slope with him leading the way. As I looked around, I realized that the conifers around us were getting less lush and were slowly being replaced by shorter rhododendron trees. I was thinking of the day that I had had, the fulfilling trip from Lachung to the Yumthang Valley and back. It had been one heck of a day- hiking, eating steaming dumplings in the middle of snow-clad zero point, marveling at how precisely Nature has adorned this beautiful hidden land, counting yaks and following rhododendron trails. Sitting with my feet dipping in the stone cold waters of river Teesta and drinking yak milk tea, I had been happiest. As Captain increased his pace, I jogged after him. On my right was a narrow mountain stream, gorging down the slope like some weary traveler. Finally, Captain had me stop at a narrow ledge that cut down from the top of the slope; I felt like an emperor standing on it with all the clouds below us. Against the sky alight with millions of star specks, all travelling from who knows where for who knows how long, the mountains stood like learned soldiers of time. Pitch black and tall. Some of the peaks were snow-capped, although you would have to strain your eyes hard to make them out. My mouth hung as open as Captain’s, my guide, who was now looking at me with a glint in his eyes. “Thank you”, I said, my voice breaking with emotion. Captain wagged his tail. It was then that my hands suddenly flew towards my pocket and I pulled out the syringe and vial. Just as I was about to uncap it, Captain gave my elbow a sudden jerk from behind and the vial propelled from my hands, right into the oblivion. The high mountains stood testimony.