Beyond Boundaries

Till 2010 it was out of bounds for tourists. As you climb up the steep rise, cross the old wooden bridge and walk into Turtuk, the last Indian village in Ladakh. Surrounded by towering mountains all around, Turtuk is what you feel Shangrila-La is. Beyond two mountains, a local  points out the Indian outpost and straight across from that, he says, is the Pakistan outpost. They always have guns aimed at each other, he says. Despite all efforts I can't make out any! But who cares when all around is a village that takes your breath away and rosy cheeked kids mill around.

The mountains all around, the fiery Shyok River below, stones houses- including a posh two-storied structure in the making- apricot trees and women and children working in the fields and one can't help but go, how green in my valley!

My village! Well till 1971 it was part of Pakistan and the war that year saw Indian annexing  Turtuk and five other villages. If the village is distinct so are its residents -- they are Baltistanis, a heritage they are very proud of. As we drive towards the village, the different facial features become evident when we meet a group of men and women working on tarring a road; fair, apple red cheeks and perennially smiling they do not at all have anything in common looks wise with the Ladakhis. It's a week day so everyone is caught up in the daily routine, but everyone has time to welcome you and talk. We come across a young man, who looks out of sorts in the village with his trendy clothes, gelled  hair and hipster attitude. He is an accountant working in the Middle East and is home for a brief break. His father owns one of the few little shops in the village. His forefathers were born in the same village, but then it was part of Pakistan. His father, the shop owner, was born before 1971 which means in his lifetime he went from Pakistani to Indian. His aunts and a sister are married and live in Kyrgyzstan!
As we walk around, we hear some murmurs from behind the wall. Finding a little opening to peep in, we see little kids studiously bent over copy books furiously writing.

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   Life, you realise, is the same everywhere, borders or no borders, it goes on. Cheers!