RIFLE RANGE BOY

Fig. 1: Are we going there? ©FG   “What have I got myself into?” I asked myself as I gazed out the hotel lobby in McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala, admiring the snow-capped mountain which seems so high almost reaching the heavens. I convinced myself, “Of course, we would not be going there. It looks too high for comfort.” Sheepishly, I approached the guide to ask, “Just how high are we going?” “You see that snow," pointing at the same peak that I had seen earlier. "We will try to scale the snow line and see how far we can go after that,” he replied. I felt a lump at the back of my throat. Not wanting to be a spoilsport or an attention seeker, I just kept my trepidations to myself. Come to think of it, in hindsight, all the fears and uncertainties proved unfounded. All our faithful weekend boot camp pieces of training under the auspices of our masochistic slavedriver leader dubbed ‘Commando’ apparently did not go to waste. Maybe it was slightly more strenuous than a walk in the p...

It ain't heavy, it is just my karma! The debate that was always going through our minds throughout the expedition was the appropriateness of using the assistance of donkeys to carry our loads. What we perceived as a constant sad donkey facial appearance donned with eyes accentuated by droopy eyelids and long fluffy eyelashes was a steady reminder that we had sinned when we signed up to allow these hapless docile, domesticated 'workhorses' to partake our trip.  Contrary to what we, the lazy homo sapiens, branded these meek animals, they were anything but foolish, stubborn, fat or lazy. We were reminded of the phrases in our daily lives; stupid ass, lazy ass, fat ass, stubborn as a mule (which is genetically half a donkey), making an ass of oneself and ignorance. In a Tamil proverb, they were symbolically portrayed as simpletons, not able to appreciate the more delicate things in life. (A donkey cannot relish the smell of camphor; as traditionally donkey...