Soliloquy of a Wandering Pilgrim

  Whispers on Stone: Discovering Ladakh’s Uncharted Petroglyphs We were trudging down a dusty trail by the frozen stream near the little village of Lato when something caught our eye: a curious carving on a sun-bleached boulder. At first it seemed like a simple scratch, but as we knelt closer the outlines emerged – faint figures, perhaps animals. Our hearts raced. A closer look revealed many more carvings on adjacent stones, their pale lines surviving in the red-brown patina of the rock. In that quiet Himalayan afternoon, we had stumbled into the remote gallery of ancient hands. We had been in that area for exploratory mountaineering, prospecting a remote valley for potential future climbs. It was March 2025, and all of Ladakh had just experienced a late winter storm that had blanketed the mountains in fresh snow. On our way out, tired but content, we took a side trail above the river – and that’s when we found the carvings. The discovery felt accidental, but significant: a re...

  In recent years, the culture of trekking and mountaineering has shifted from introspective exploration to externally validated accomplishment. This short essay critically examines the rise of certificate-oriented treks and the commodification of high-altitude experiences, drawing on personal reflection and broader trends in adventure tourism. From summit selfies to laminated certificates, it explores how social media, bucket-list marketing, and consumer expectations have transformed sacred and solitary landscapes into stages of performance. Juxtaposing this trend with traditional values of humility, transformation, and reverence, the essay asks: what is lost when the journey becomes a product? Through examples from Kilimanjaro, Everest, Annapurna, and beyond, it advocates a return to a slower, deeper, more meaningful engagement with the mountains—one not stamped or shared, but quietly carried within. Summits for Show: On the Commodification of Trekking In the summer of 2005, I ...

  # In the wood-panelled head office of Mountains Make Us Human —an old and respected institution whose walls bore the stories of decades past—tea was being served with biscuits of admirable durability. The society had its share of seasoned climbers, armchair philosophers, and earnest enthusiasts, all bound together by a love for the mountains. Its guiding belief, inscribed on a wooden plaque near the entrance, read: “Mountains teach us humility, patience, and perspective—qualities needed in valleys too.” Rahul, steeped in the quiet confidence of one who had lived most of his life among mountains, sat in the corner, sipping silently. He was known among a few for his favourite line, quietly offered in moments of tension or pride: "Let the mountains judge, for they never lie." He had recently taken it upon himself to ensure that the world-renowned "Curtains and Crags" Mountain Theatre Festival came to Kalibagan, so that the townspeople would not miss the chance to wi...