one long car journey. bullied by cab-drivers in jammu ; a boat-stay in srinagar ; artillery shells near drass/kargil ; recognising that siachen’s cold kills men off before their guns can ; sand dunes at 4000 metres ; red and orange and brown all-around ; a break-down on a desolate road, and watching dad return in an army truck to rescue us ; and a brief hello to colonel prem chand on the way back through himanchal.

ladakh is barren, yet staggeringly full: of vastness, slowness and calm belied. one can only dream: what might’ve dad experienced when he trekked through here in the 1980s?