Spacing ourselves precariously on the cliff-
hanging foot trail, we quietly stood admiring the beauty that lied below our view. Overswept by the brilliance that was radiating, we were lost for words, unable to utter the sheer exhilaration. The heavenly grandeur of the emerald green stillness of the majestic lake was truly overpowering. Even the azure sky was defeated. The abyssal depth of the majestic lake completely overwhelmed its reflection. Charmed by nature's miracle, we stared open-mouthed as if in a deep state of meditative trance. The voices behind us sounded like faint distant echoes from some faraway land. We languorously drifted into oblivion. Felt as if time had ceased its tedious task of ticking and was releasing a tremendous sigh of relief. Nothing could have heaved our souls away from the energy of this moment. Absolutely nothing.

"I see it! I see it!", cried Siddhi, shattering the silence.
Instantaneously, we were back to earth, with our feet on the ground. The bond of the transcendental energy was lost. And the faint distant echoes turned out to be loud shouts from the group of overcrowding people behind us, who were yelling out at the top of their lungs.

"I just saw the lord over there!", continued my friend as he excitedly pointed his finger somewhere in the middle of the lake. Others in the crowd, who were also performing similar gestures, were fervently pointing hither and tither. Hardly, any of their positions correlated with one another's. While the unfortunate ones were irritatingly scanning the lake real hard with their eyeballs popping out. They found the excitement of others incredibly hard to digest.
With more wavering of their hands, the fortunate ones began to sketch the picture of the lord as they had glimpsed in the lake. They were enthusiastically describing their own version to one another. So were my friends. It looked as if a group of learned martial artists were exhibiting their skills. Or should I say, in a lighter sense, it looked as if Lord Shiva himself was performing the "Tandav Nritya" (Dance) atop the hill of the sacred Gosaikund Lake.

The Basics
Gosaikund, the holy sacred lake devoted to the Great Hindu God, Lord Shiva, is probably the most popular high altitude pilgrimage spot of Nepal. Hundreds of pilgrims and devotees make the difficult climb each year for the festival of Janai Purnima, which takes place on the full moon ("Purnima") of mid-July to mid-August. Everyone comes here to take a bath in the cold chilling water of the holy lake on that day. After having cleaned oneself, the people of the Brahmans and Chettris caste change their scared thread, known as the Janai. Thus, the name Janai Purnima.

The trek is usually a short one. In the least, it takes four days, two days for the ascent and descent and two days for the bus ride between Kathmandu and Dhunche. Slow pace-setters should add an extra day for the ascent. In order to reduce the risk of catching altitude sickness ("lekh lagnu"), a slow and easy-going rate of ascent is highly recommended for it aids in better acclimatization.

Through my many haywire trekking experiences, I've always learned to carry my load light, wear comfortable shoes and take a slow pace. If you pack your things in your backpack in order, it'll greeatly prevent one from fumbling as you unload the whole contents of the backpack for just a stupid aspirin.

Day One
I always love the refreshing sensation that ripples throughout my body whenever I escape away from the concrete jungle, known as Kathmandu City. With the swaying and bending of the bus along the rickety road, I feel myself being pulled further and further away from all the anxieties of the hectic city life. A sense of detachment from the materialistic world slowly begins to develop. And a smile of contemplation gradually surfaces on my face.

As soon as we reached Ranipauwa, a cool breeze kindly welcomed us. I hastily stretched my head out towards the window for the view outside. On a clear day, one would witness a beautiful panorama of snow-clad mountain ranges. Ganesh Himal, the most conspicuous one, will be stubbornly displaying its massive barrier-like belly in the line up. Just like the adorable God Ganesh. But to our great disappointment, the white clouds shrouded the Himalayas deep into obscurity, enough to elude their very presence.

When we stopped over at Trishuli for lunch, Trishuli was at its best. With the benevolence of the scorching sun over our heads and hot dry air, I felt it somewhat irksome. Trishuli brags as being the Terai (Plains) of the hilly region. Lying at a relatively low altitude and with a prevalence of red lateritic soil all over, the sweltering heat was absolutely unbearable.

While relaxing with satiety after the lunch, we witnessed a distressing drama unfolding before our eyes. The stage was our much-deprived bus and the actors were the inhabitants of the hood. The hood had been practically robbed of its visible space. Each and everyone were elbowing each other for that extra little space, occasionally exchanging irate looks. Due to the change of original position before and after the lunch, they were clamouring for some systematic rearrangement of their sacred space. Those who conquered those precious spaces first were adamant and recalcitrant. They didn't believe in the existence of such a system. With the sun pitilessly blazing on them, it really was a tragic sight. I felt sad, but my sympathy was deeper for those weaker souls lost and trapped within that hideous maze, gasping for a breath of fresh air as they desperately cling onto the shoulders of others.

We reached Dhunche at around 5 o'clock. The rain had just ceased and a fresh smell of ozone was circulating in the air. In the surrounding hills, patches of clouds were hovering over freshly bathed lush green foliage. And the houses cleanly awashed. It was Dhunche like I've never seen before. Even though my presence here had been made several times, I never had experienced such a charming and mystical aura that was quietly unraveling in front of me. It truly was a refreshing grand finale after the daylong tiresome bus ride.

Day Two
We started out early in the morning following a heavy breakfast. But, our notion of an early morn was rather incongruous with that of other pilgrims, who had already deserted Dhunche by the time we got ourselves going. Eventually, we caught up with the procession of pilgrims rather swiftly, most of whom were gathered at the bridge over the roaring Trishuli River. They were fueling themselves up with homemade snacks, while some were camouflaged in the green bushes answering nature's call. The local villagers, who had set up plastic huts, were requesting us to have some tea. But we just pressed on.

The trail passed through a pleasant oak-forested gully. The steep ascent lasted less than half an hour, after which the trail climbed gently. Swiftly and agilely, we were hurdling through the trail and soon enough, we came upon a wide-open green space with a permanent teahouse. Settling our backpacks, we ordered some tea. Lots of other backpackers had their load rested and were enjoying the moment of temporary release of the burden off their backs. They were just chattering and laughing away with their cups of tea. But not everyone seemed to share the mood of those jubilant backpackers. They were pathetically pumping their poor lungs for air and were sitting completely distraught over the knowledge that a full day layed ahead before they could finally heave an ecstatic sigh of relief.

After about a strenuous five hours climb, and a net ascent of more than 1250m (4200ft) we finally reached Chandan Bari, a.k.a. Sing Gumba. We smiled with heroic undertones, for we had completed the hardest and much feared ascent of the whole trip. I say feared, as it is in this part of the trail that, sinners fail to accomplish the ascent and become ill, upon whic they will be forced to descent, whereas, the pious ones will easily make the ascent. Scientifically, this is just a case of altitude sickness. A slow rate of ascent, accompanied by more time on resting is recommended if one develops any signs of the sickness. Even though the healing powers of garlic have no scientific proof, I would recommend eating lots of them as a remedy. But to be on the safe side, its best to get oneself briefed on the sickness before setting out.

Chandan Bari (3254 m) is really a beautiful place. On a clear day, it will be dazzling with wild flowers and beautiful rhododendrons. But with the mist slowly crawling in, it disguised us from the beauty. It also started to rain lightly. Thus, we stepped into one of the small stone huts for lunch. After the wonderful lunch, we took out our Rain Kit for the rain was getting much stronger. We also had our backpacks covered up by plastic sheets. Then, with the usual 'Namaste' and thanks, we bade the hotel owner farewell and hit the road.

If you've ever attempted an uphill climb in a torrential rain of monsoon, clad in a complete raingear with a heavy load on the back, then you'll probably have some pity over the arduous plight that I went through after Chandan Bari. We soon began to sweat like pigs. Our perspiration found no way out of the hothouse that was rapidly building up within the confinement of our raincoat and trousers, and I had to frequently flip off the cap and unzip the zipper of my raincoat, just to let the steam out of myself. But, luckily for us, the rain lasted a little less than an hour, much to our relief.

We reached Laurebina (3901 m) rather late. I believe it was way past six o'clock. We decided to spend the night here, agreeing to make an early start the following morning because Gosaikund was just an hour walk from here. After hovering over several temporary plastic huts, we finally managed to find some sleeping ground for the three of us. Hastily, we rolled out our sleeping bags over the somewhat crowded ground, valiantly designating our possession over it. Even though it wasn't large, it was enough for each of us to stretch out our aching legs. We considered ourselves rather lucky, as compared to the later arrivals who reluctantly had to compromise for an unpleasant upright sleeping position on the bench. Even though we were elbowing each other with hardly any space to move, it was the best available accommodation you could get around here. Consider it Five-Stars.

Epilogue
Long, long time ago, when gods were churning the ocean in the hope of extracting the elixir of immortality, it somehow resulted in poison, which threatened to engulf the world and all of mankind. However, the great Shiva came to the rescue. Lord Shiva voluteered to drink the poison that had emanated from the churn. Upon drinking the poison, he felt a burning sensation in his throat. Then, he desperately began to search for some water to ease the burning sensation. He looked around, and seeing no viable sources of drinking water, he swiftly struck his trident at a glacier, which happened to be somewhere north of Kathmandu. Then all of a sudden, the water came gushing forth to quench his thirst and a lake was formed, which we revere today as the sacred Gosaikund.

It is believed that there are 108 lakes scattered in and around the pockets of hills surrounding the area. All of them are neither easily accessible nor traceable. Only a few of them can be seen on the route under a favourable weather, which is always a rarity on the day of the Janai Purnima. Of all the tales I've heard of many preceding pilgrimages, bad weather has always been an integral and an inherent element of those trips. But, we were in for luck. The winds had triumphantly disposed the silvery dark clouds in the far corners of the blue horizon, allowing the golden sun to spread its blazing wings across the landscape. It was utterly unprecedented. We were astounded and overjoyed when we began to see all of the lakes en route with stunning clarity. Swarswatikund, Bhairavkund, Bhutkund, Ganeshkund, Suryakund, Chandrakund and Ragatkund, all were sparkling with heavenly brilliance. Due to the stunningly crystal clear weather. we were also able to get a glimpse of the brown rock with a reddish tint, in the middle in Gosaikund Lake. It was to this that people correlated to the various images of Lord Shiva. But, it is believed that a temple of Shiva had been located at that spot in mediaeval times, and the reddish stone on the rock is actually a resemblance of a kneeling bull, Nandi, whose image can be found before all Shiva temples. Well, maybe it is, but for me, it was just another corroboration of the existence of some divine power ruling this mysterious world from some remote heavenly abode.

This is a trip that I'll always treasure. For who knows the next time if I'll be rewarded again with such a dazzling gift. The unpredictable weather of the Himalayas abide by no laws. We are completely at its mercy. But no matter whatever the weather may turn out to be, Gosaikund will always be Gosaikund. A pearl glistening in the heart of the Himalayas, forever and ever.

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