My visit to Siachen: What the glacier did to me

Stand at a beach, close your eyes and imagine a building of over approximately 2,400 floors. What you definitely should not do is walk in, take the lift to reach the zenith. The altitude, the depleted air, your lack of preparedness, it can kill you.

But we did that.

Only our "lift" was faster in the form of an army helicopter from the Army Aviation and the building was the glacier known to most as Siachen.

In the 24 hours that I got to prepare for my assignment, the thought did strike me. But then I was with my Army and however outlandish it may sound, I knew they would never let me down.

It was 10am and I was awaiting my baggage at the Kushok Bakula Rimpochee airport in Leh. The only thing audible was the health department's recorded message. From advising complete rest for 24-36 hours upon landing to warning of headache, breathlessness etc, the message was unambiguous. The reason it was also unnerving was because just outside the terminal, an Army representative was waiting to escort me to the helicopter which would immediately take me to the glacier, literally throwing caution to the winds.

Once at the base, a quick checking of my blood pressure, pulse, oxygen levels and a quicker breakfast followed. Where weather packs up with no notice, you'd want at least time on your side, isn't it?

As our helicopter roared into the rarefied air, an hour-long flight saw the harmless looking Nubra river and her charming landscape gradually turn into a menacing sheet of ice and rocks.

Unmistakably, we were at the foothills of the great glacier.

I was suddenly given a headset. The pilot wanted to have a word. Guiding me to the dangling oxygen masks, he told me I should use them the minute I'd sense uneasiness. On more than one occasion did I heed his advice.

Siachen and the plentiful posts which dot the landscape are connected through foot patrols and helicopters. Then there are staging posts where patrols can break the journey. Some posts are so remote that they require a march of 21 days to reach! The one which went down was a 19 day trek.

Blizzard-like condition and receding sunlight forced us to recalculate. There was no way I could now go to the site of the operation. But I could still fly over the glacier, albeit in a different direction. My journey took me over Army posts where there was business as usual. I came across soldiers marching on ice.

So excited were we shooting that the health department message seemed bunkum.

Our next stop was the Siachen base camp, the neat, vast facility which supports troops deployed closer to the frontline. It was now the centre of operational planning. In the couple of hours I spent there, there was no topic of discussion but the operation. Lunch was a break, not from the operation but merely from the operation room.

It did prick my conscience wondering if my presence was a hindrance in any way. But I overruled by telling myself that their struggle deserved recognition and I would do the needful. 

Hearing them was nothing if not overwhelming.

As a small band of brothers, nearly everyone knew someone at the stricken post. The man in charge of the camp, Colonel V Hariharan said men would line up before him and say "Sahab humko bhi jaane do search par" (Sir, please allow us to join the search effort too). Of course the Army sent only 220 fully-ready men for the task.

A family was sailing in troubled waters, together.

Upon returning to Leh, I was warned of the ailments which would follow for a few days.

I am not myself fully, not yet. However, in my limited predicament, the words of a colonel who has served twice at Siachen ring out aloud.

Every time you go the glacier, you return a lesser man. It takes away from you something, forever.