Juleh

“This isn’t happening.” Jay steadies himself onto the rug and takes a few frantic sips from the hotel carafe to preempt a migraine and fix the abyss growing inside him. A newsreader on TV continues to bleat words into the mic but all Jay can wonder is how the man can report such wretched news with such ease. Perhaps being around death really does turn you cold.

Eventually, the words turn into a garbled monotone and the newsreader nods fashionably to cue the end of his segment.

*

On a thin strip of terrain, Jay maneuvered his Fortuner around the gazillionth mountain-corner chiseling his path. The crunching rubble was a satisfying sound and reminded him to keep pushing, sharp-turn after sharp-turn, despite all the exhaustion from the road.

Around him, a cascade of earthy hues warmed the otherwise cold scene. Grey mountains, speckled with Poplar trees, stood like sentinels guarding their land, and each piece of rock soared to the sky as if competing to see which one could reach the farthest cloud. Stark, barren country began to weave the magic that was Leh. Jay was content. This Himalayan region was more than everything he’d dreamed of in a holiday destination.

Not far away, a cluster of houses caught Jay’s eye. Village settlement, he realized, liking the idea of a quick pitstop. Aware that he was out of backup water, and, famished and parched, he rerouted his map to the village, realizing he had overlooked the practicalities of this trip.

Not that the roads had proved to be any more useful. There had been no eating joints or restroom facilities at any of the exits here— there had been no exits, in fact, no proper roads even.

But the tempting thought of a hot meal and someone to chat with had Jay hitting the gas pedal until he was veering down a row of rustic houses with flat roofs and unadorned exteriors, much like the surrounding landscape. His eyes swept the place. Next to a temple in the corner, a signpost proudly flashed the words ‘Nimu Village’.

That’s where he saw her.

There was a sudden flash of brakes and the sound of tires screeching in indignation. Through the billowing dust cloud, Jay saw a woman’s frown deepen. An unexplainable emotion filled Jay— it was wistful, as if he knew the two of them were tied together in some magnetic, fated way that might soon break his heart. He was both drawn to her disapproving expression but also anxious to please her.

The haunting figure emerged from the settling dust, resplendent in a maroon traditional Ladakhi dress. Dark locks framed her face, hanging heavy down her shoulders and parting at her waist to reveal a million gold beads bejeweling her arms. She spun towards the sign, jabbed a finger at it and then cocked her head to have Jay lower his window. He hesitated.

“I’m sorry. That speed should have been off-limits.” He enunciated each word slowly and clearly. “I’ve been travelling for a really long time, and I’m very hungry. Could you please help me get some food and water?” he pointed to his stomach.

The woman’s eyes widened. For a moment Jay considered repeating himself, but when she smirked ever so slightly, he stopped short.

“I don’t need the gesticulation. My hearing is fine, really.” Her words were crisp. They cracked in the air like a whip, leaving a cloud of embarrassment in wake. Jay hadn’t thought a Ladakhi could speak such fluent English.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea-,”

“Relax,” she replied, not unkindly. Her voice was melodic, a bubbling brook in the middle of a desert. “It’s lunchtime. Just join us.”

“Oh. Can I?"

She looked amused. “You don’t want food?”

The woman’s open, unpretentious trust was refreshing and apparent again ten minutes later when Jay found himself seated around a low wooden table in a living room, quite at home among Stanzin’s newly introduced family.

Jay discovered that the ethereal beauty went by the name Stanzin and worked at the Leh Palace as a tourist guide. She lived with her parents, little brother Dorji, her uncle and granny. The easy acceptance of a complete stranger among her family’s midst—a deed almost unheard of in Jay’s city—surprised him.

In no time, tall dragon imprinted flasks of gur gur chai were brought out. It was Ladakhi tea, an unfamiliar but satiating blend of butter, salt and tea leaves. Stanzin’s mom bustled in and out of the kitchen with Dorji trailing behind, until she finally sat down with a tray laden with steaming bowls, a platter of homemade rolls, and creamy yoghurt, which Jay learnt was made of Yak’s milk. She jostled a bowl into his hands.

“Thukpa,” Stanzin nodded at Jay. She took a bowl herself and passed it on. Jay didn’t think the thukpa’s watery appearance looked very appetizing, but no sooner had he dipped into the delicate broth of mincemeat dumplings, noodles and soft-boiled vegetables than he realized otherwise.

“Slow down,” Stanzin said with a smile playing at her lips. “That’s heavy on meat and you’re traveling.”

“I know. Sorry. It’s really good.” Jay looked away and turned to nod politely at the mother.

There was something powerful about Stanzin. Jay could barely look at her. Her presence was an electric current, hard for him to shield himself from and emanating sparks of unknown energy. Even though she was merely eating next to him, Jay felt exceedingly self-aware. Twice he caught himself calculating when to swallow.

When lunch was finally over and the small talk began to die down, Jay decided it was time to bid the family adieu. A strange sense of loss on the prospect of saying goodbye to Stanzin hit him—but he had noticed, all through the family banter, Stanzin’s obvious restlessness and anxiety too. He was hoping she felt what he did.

“Can you do me a favor?” Stanzin ushered Jay behind as everyone made their way to the door. The curious energy between them was palpable.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

Stanzin shrugged. “I need to get to the Leh Palace but my friend who usually drives us is sick. I was supposed to head out an hour ago, but you—,” she paused. “I am late.”

Jay nodded. He felt only slightly disappointed to know that the anxiety was not on his account, but he loved that he could spend longer with her. “I’m actually driving past the palace. It’s the least I can do for all the hospitality.”

Stanzin smiled bright, and following a round of goodbyes and take-cares with the rest of her family, joined Jay to the car. “Thank you,” she said, carrying into the car a faint fragrance of pine and flowers.

“Don’t mention it.” He started the car. “So, how do you say hello in your language?” He winced as soon as he asked that. With Stanzin, that was probably his best attempt at breaking the ice.

There it was again—another jesting grin. “Juleh.”

Jay refocused on the road with a smile himself. “Juleh to you too.”

*

They say the best destinations are reached through the best journeys. For Jay and Stanzin, the destination was looking to be near perfect. Thirty minutes of being on the road had created room for easy banter and a share-and-tell of more than a dozen anecdotes from their lives. They learned that they both liked rail travel, Loop-the-loop over Crossword, and annotated paperbacks from secondhand booksellers, especially if they were bought roadside, on old carts. Jay disliked abstract art, Stanzin despised clothes with little texture. Both hated short songs.

In a couple of miles, the car began to slow down considerably. Stanzin had her windows down and was now directing Jay off-GPS. “I see we’re reaching.” She pointed towards a large structure on the other side of a valley. It gleamed under the roseate evening light.

“The Leh Palace.”

The monument loomed tall, overlooking trees, boulders and monasteries. It resembled the numerous images on the Lonely Planet accounts that Jay had googled before the trip. He had been so enraptured by the conversations with Stanzin that he had almost missed the sandy-colored palace.

“You can drop me here,” she said, looking suddenly distant.

A pang of wistfulness hit Jay again. It was a vague emotion but one that pinched him hard. Like they were both connected on a much deeper realm but in a sad, fleeting way.

“Enjoy, Stanzin. Juleh.”

“Juleh,” she responded before handing him her phone. They exchanged numbers and made promises to ‘keep in touch’; this time Jay actually meant the worn words.

Stanzin had just gotten out of the car when he pulled out a camera and hurried to join her. “Picture?”

“That would be great,” she replied, a little subdued herself. Their eyes locked and they knew their destinies would forever be entwined. If only the brilliant camera flash could brighten the impending gloom.

*

“No,” Jay halts the month-fresh memories. He thumbs a polaroid of a city lad and mountain beauty in his wallet, trying to awaken some magic force through sheer will.

“Nimu, Demchok, Phayang and many other villages and districts in Leh have been critically affected, killing over a hundred and reporting almost three hundred and seventy missing, although numbers have not yet been finalized. The force of this calamity makes any chances of survival appear bleak. This monstrous cloudburst raises numerous questions for the chief minister and …”

Jay mutes the TV. We were destined for more than this, he thinks. His phone starts to ring just as he turns off the news and stows away the remote.

“Hello?”

“Juleh, you mean?” a voice on the other line says.