Pin Bhaba Pass Trek - Day 4: Kara to Pushtirang

I Continue From Here: Pin Bhaba Pass Trek - Day 3: Acclimatisation at Kara

Day 04: Kara (3,600 m / 11,800 ft) to Pushtirang (4,200 m / 13,700 ft) - 5Km / 5H 

7 July 2026

In the morning, the toilet pits were in terrible condition. They were not only full, but many users had also failed to cover their waste with enough mud. There were several reasons for this. We had only three toilets for nineteen people, the pits were not very deep, and we had stayed at the same campsite for two days. It was inevitable that they would fill up. To make matters worse, members of the neighbouring trekking groups, who had only one toilet tent adjacent to ours, began using our toilets as well. This made the queues longer and the pits unusable much sooner.

This was not merely a matter of cleanliness but also one of hygiene. The last thing anyone wanted was to contract a urinary tract infection in the mountains. During the feedback session on the last day, I made it a point to mention this to Pankaj. While we, as a team, could have informed the them earlier, it was equally the responsibility of the organisers to inspect the toilets regularly and take corrective action. To their credit, the issue was addressed from the very next day. The pits were dug deeper, and the neighbouring groups were perhaps instructed not to use our toilets.

In the morning, I saw Ajith brushing his teeth with a twig. Karanj (Karanja) and Bavad (Babool) sticks are traditional natural chew sticks used as eco-friendly toothbrushes. They clean the teeth, strengthen the gums, and release natural compounds that help fight bacteria and reduce plaque without the need for toothpaste. Seeing my curiosity, Ajith even handed me one to try.

Breakfast was served outside with a magnificent view of the surrounding mountains. Sudha ma'am mentioned that her stomach was upset, so she always carried an Ayurvedic digestive powder called Ashta Churna, which she usually mixed with rice whenever she wasn't feeling well.

The day's walk began with several river and stream crossings. Thankfully, the water was nowhere near as deep as the crossing at Shea Goru during the Hampta Pass trek, so we managed without much difficulty. We still had to remove our shoes and roll our trousers above our knees before stepping into the cold water.

Beyond the crossings, we climbed the neighbouring mountain through vast meadows carpeted with wildflowers. Along the way, I spent some time speaking with Steven. I wanted to hear about his trekking experiences from an era before digital maps became common. I was equally curious about whether he had any memories of the hippie movement along the American West Coast—a period of history that has always fascinated me.

Since he had been quite young during those years, he did not have many firsthand stories to tell, but he remembered seeing many hippies in his area. He also spoke about the crime that was common in Oklahoma while he was growing up. We then shifted to his experiences on the Pacific Crest Trail, where he described being mesmerised by the Sierra Nevada. He strongly recommended that I someday hike the John Muir Trail—a spectacular 211-mile route that passes through Yosemite, Sequoia, and Kings Canyon National Parks. We also discussed minimalism in travel and how years of backpacking naturally teach one to carry only what is truly necessary.

Later, I found myself becoming part of a reel that the younger boys wanted to shoot. Dev would begin singing, and as the camera tilted to reveal us in the background, he would invite us to join in for the chorus. The energy and enthusiasm of adolescents are infectious. One cannot help but participate in their ideas when invited. For a brief while, they make us feel young again and remind us of the simple joys that adulthood often teaches us to overlook. Full credit goes to Dev for his beautiful rendition and for effortlessly carrying our rather terrible chorus. I thoroughly enjoyed the entire process, especially since we had to shoot several takes because something always went wrong.

Throughout the trek, I often heard Ajith Mathew singing as we walked and had immediately noticed how beautiful his voice was. The English songs he hummed while walking behind me sounded particularly rich in his deep voice. I requested him to sing Aa Chal Ke Tujhe, and he sang it beautifully.

Later, I found myself walking with Dev once again. He shared fascinating stories about his grandfather, who had founded the family business they now manage. If I remember correctly, his grandfather had once been associated with a company that manufactured pens before deciding to build the machines that eventually became the foundation of their own enterprise. Dev's father had begun studying engineering but had to discontinue it due to health issues, eventually completing only a diploma. His parents now hope to expand the business, but their plans have been delayed because of the economic uncertainties caused by the Iran-Israel-US conflict.

Listening to Dev's family history reminded me of my own maternal grandfather. He had begun his career as a schoolteacher before leaving his small village in search of greater opportunities. From supplying fresh cow's milk from villages to hotels in town, to opening a restaurant, then becoming a successful businessman in the ice cream and ice candy trade, and eventually owning several lorries, his journey had been remarkable. I shared this story with Dev as we walked. 

As we spoke about my travels, Dev admitted that he, too, longed to explore the world. However, with his parents currently focused on expanding the business, he did not wish to spend money on travel. It wasn't that his parents would object; rather, he felt it would be inappropriate to spend lavishly on foreign trips while the family was investing heavily in the business. I found this level of thoughtfulness and sensitivity remarkable for someone so young. When I asked whether he intended to pursue music seriously, he told me that he had been learning Hindustani classical music for the past two years.

Meanwhile, Sudha ma'am began feeling much worse. Walking with an upset stomach had become extremely difficult for her. Those of us at the front had already gone ahead when Pankaj instructed the guides to stop us until the others caught up. Chandni, who was sitting beside me while we waited, admitted that she, too, was uncomfortable. The scorching afternoon sun had given her a severe headache, and all she wanted was to reach the campsite. Little did we know that this delay would later become the subject of a heated argument with Pankaj.

As soon as we reached camp, it began raining heavily. Since we could not sit outside, we gathered in the dining tent, where the team surprised us by serving pani puri instead of lunch—a rather strange choice. The pani puri was delicious, but I resisted the temptation to overeat. The following day would involve an early start and a long climb over the pass. My experience on the Manaslu Circuit, particularly before crossing Larke Pass, had taught me to be careful about what and how much I ate before such demanding days.

During lunch, the tension between the group and Pankaj reached a crescendo. Chandni told him that making us wait for nearly an hour under the blazing sun had been an unnecessary decision. She had developed a terrible headache because of it, and since the campsite was barely half a kilometre away, there had been little reason not to allow those who had already arrived to proceed.

Rather than acknowledging her discomfort, Pankaj seemed more interested in defending his decision. At one point, he even responded with what appeared to be a sarcastic smile. That upset Chandni further, and she openly called out both his sarcasm and his lack of empathy.

He repeatedly insisted that we simply needed to adapt to difficult situations. A few of us joined the discussion and tried to explain that we did not mind the sun itself. The issue was being made to wait unnecessarily when shelter was so close. He still failed to understand our point and finally remarked, "Fine. Tomorrow nobody takes any breaks."

I smiled and replied, "Well, that's not really a solution to the problem at hand." The conversation gradually faded as lunch arrived. 

Sudha ma'am, still struggling with her stomach, mixed some Ashta Churna into her rice. It was too dry to eat, and she wished she had some ghee. Yet she hesitated to ask Pankaj, perhaps uncertain of how he might respond. I suggested asking the kitchen staff instead. Unfortunately, they had already used all the ghee while preparing dessert. Since there was a fixed campsite beyond the pass, the kitchen team would not continue with us the next day. Therefore, there was no possibility of replenishing them. She eventually settled for some pickle to make the otherwise bland meal easier to eat.

I was deeply disappointed by Pankaj's attitude that day—his lack of empathy, his unapproachable demeanour, and his defensive responses whenever concerns were raised. I even remembered how he had spoken to the younger boys when they simply asked what time their packed bags should be ready. Instead of answering with a time, he had responded sharply about punctuality and not wasting time. 

As a teacher, I am constantly conscious of how I speak to my students. I therefore found his manner unnecessarily harsh. The first responsibility of any leader is to empathise with those who are struggling. Even if one believes that people are overreacting, that can always be communicated later, calmly and respectfully. Before anything else, a leader must first listen to the pain of the people they lead. Many leaders—even in politics—fail to understand this simple principle.

That evening, Sudha ma'am decided not to continue with us and return from Pushtirang itself. She no longer felt confident about attempting the pass in her condition and did not want to take unnecessary risks. Her plan was to walk back to Kafnu, drive to Shimla, and then continue to Manali to meet Bhaskar sir. She told me that she was completely satisfied with what she had already experienced. In fact, Bhaba Valley had easily been the most beautiful stretch of the entire trek.

We spent some time playing card games—Mendicot, Donkey or Bhabi  as Abhi called it and Joker—until Divyesh accidentally spilled tea over the cards, forcing us to stop. I had been nursing a mild headache, so the interruption came as a welcome excuse to rest.

When I stepped outside to relieve myself and returned to the dining tent, I realised that my headache had eased considerably. I mentioned this to Ajith Mathew, our forensics expert, who immediately had a eureka moment. He noticed that the dining tent had been completely sealed because of the rain. He suspected that the poor ventilation and buildup of carbon dioxide were responsible for our headaches. We opened a few of the tent flaps, and almost immediately the air felt fresher. Smart observation.

The rain had stopped, yet a gloomy stillness continued to hang over the campsite outside the tent. With Sudha ma'am leaving, our team strength dropped to eighteen. A quiet nervousness about the pass was visible on several faces. When I noticed Prama looking worried, I told her that most of us shared the same anxiety and that we would somehow get through it together. Fortunately, my experience crossing Larke Pass had already taught me how to manage those fears. We were scheduled to leave at 3:30AM in the morning.

Later that night, Pankaj demonstrated how to use micro spikes and gaiters. Sensing the nervousness within the group, he narrated the inspiring story of Arunima Sinha, who lost her leg after being thrown from a moving train while resisting a robbery, yet went on to become the world's first female amputee to climb Mount Everest. 

Watching him encourage the team, I finally saw the side of Pankaj that I had been hoping to see. I have always believed that human beings are not inherently evil. We all possess different sides of ourselves, and circumstances often determine which side emerges. As a teacher, a friend, or a manager (In the past), I try to create conditions that bring out the best in people. Recognising and acknowledging those better qualities often encourages them to flourish.

Somewhere during this difficult day, something seemed to change in Pankaj. He chose to reveal a more compassionate side of himself—a side that, for reasons known only to him, had remained hidden until then. One can never fully know why people behave the way they do. Past experiences, accumulated disappointments, or personal struggles often shape responses that seem unnecessarily harsh.

Whatever the reason, I was glad to see both Pankaj and the group arrive at a place of compromise. The disagreement earlier that afternoon had cleared the air, allowing both sides to understand each other a little better and move forward.

Despite that glimpse of hope, I remained somewhat disappointed with Pankaj because, even by the end of the fourth day, he still did not know most of our names. Every time he came around to record our vitals, he had to ask us our names again. I found myself wondering where this disconnect from the job came from.

At this point, I would like to reassure my readers that I am not targeting Pankaj in these blog posts. I know I have been critical of his behaviour, but that is only because I found him to be the most intriguing personality in the group. His unpredictability made him fascinating. One could never quite tell how he would react or what would trigger a particular response.

Like any writer or observer of human nature, I found myself conducting a quiet character study—watching his actions, paying attention to his choice of words, and trying to read the thoughts behind his behaviour. In many ways, he became the MacGuffin of this narrative: the recurring thread that keeps both me and, perhaps, the reader curious. Would I ever truly understand this man? And if I did, how?

Dinner consisted of rice, rotis, a mushroom sabji, and kheer. I ate only a small portion, mindful of the long climb awaiting us the next day. After dinner, we went straight to bed. We had to wake up before 2 a.m. and be ready for breakfast by 3 a.m. and leave by 3:30 a.m. The biggest day of the trek lay ahead.

To Be Continued...