I had heard a lot about the lake, had seen posters and postcards. Would it live up to the expectations? The other treks groups who were scheduled to reach the lake had given themselves a rest day at the lake. That should have warned me that once there, even I wouldn’t want to leave. We had decided against the rest day so that we could keep up with the rest of the groups all the way to Baralacha La.

Chandertal lake, The last kilometer before you come to the lake starts with a steep climb. You expect to go up that and to see the lake lying there, below in the valley. That is the only thought that drives you up the climb… that you are almost there, after more than 5 hours of plodding on a dusty jeep track. It wasn’t.

You reach on top and you see the path going further. A few Gaddi shepherds are minding their flocks on the slope; there is more than a hint of green grass… so, it must be round that bend you see. Or so you hope.

The bend leads to another bend and yet another till you say that it’s all an illusion and no place can be worth this. And you start asking why they didn’t extend the track all the way to the lake, why leave the eager people to pant up that last kilometer? After cussing and dragging your feet some more, you come round another curve in the road and there is a little patch of blue a little way down.

Maybe what they say about the Chandertal waters is true. It must have some ‘jadi-booti’, some magical, healing powers that gives you an energizer to go rushing those last couple of hundred meters. A short descent and there it is… the fine white sand leading to the blue water that is gently lapping at your feet. There is a small cairn to mark the head of the lake. Like you need anything to tell you are at the most beautiful place you can hope to be at.

Nothing prepares you for the first sight. Not the posters, not the postcards, not the descriptions that others have given you. For it is simply not possible to capture the magic in a 7”x18” or words or expressions. The first _expression that comes to mind is what a friend, Khem, always uses – Shanti Life! That is what it seems like… peace in its truest sense and life like how god meant for us to live it.

When the mesmerizing effect that the water had on me had worn off a little, I dragged my eyes away to take in the almost 360 degree view of the CB range around the lake. CB 13 was to the left and a little further away, an awesome glacier I didn’t know the name of. Behind me, more of the CB range stretched away into the distance, giving a feel of being in a Roman amphitheatre with your personal troupe of snow, ice and heights giving a classical performance.

The thought that this performance was eternal, 365x24x7, while I was there for a mere hours… if that wasn’t reason enough to regret, what was? Our camp was to the far side of the lake, so we would be away from the tourists who trudged up from their jeeps to take a couple of snaps, throw Kurkure or Lays wrappers, create noise and rush back to Batal or Kaza.

I took my time walking the nearly-a-kilometer to the camp. The path was right next to the water all the way and when the urge struck, I would take off my floaters and wade into it. The solitude during that walk was coveted and I made the most of it… stretching it till the last minute. I sat on rocks, with my feet in the water and just let the sun, the water, the amphitheatre-effect, all just glide over me… it was nothing like anything I had experienced before. Again, the Khemism, Shanti Life, came to mind. I could say, “This is life” and mean it in the 1½ hours it took me to finally get to the camp.

After the exhilaration, came the jealousy. I didn’t want those polluting tourists there, I didn’t want the rest of the 4 groups that would make their way to Tokpoyongma from there the next day. I didn’t even want the dhaba that a Gaddiwala had opened in a corner. I was suddenly glad that the road didn’t extend all the way to the lake. Let those who want to see this surreal setting sweat it out a bit. Even better, that jeep track itself should be destroyed. The place should not be as accessible as it has become. Let there be a filter so that only the deserving finally get the coveted reward.

And as if to protect this territory that I would love to claim mine, and to get more of the lake, of the surroundings, I decided to stay back. As I felt at that point, I had not decided to stay back… the lake had asked me to.

But splitting from a group is never easy and I finally got emotionally blackmailed into continuing on the trek.

Once that was decided, the time between then and the sunset was all I had to finish my parikrama of the lake. I wanted to be alone, away from the Brit and Dutch groups that had taken to the water, had washed in the lake itself (Let’s see them do that to their Lake District!!! The worms!!) and were generally creating chaos. I took off on my own, vehemently putting off any proffered company. It was a highly personal, intimate and emotional experience for me… almost spiritual and I wasn’t ready to share it with anyone.

The next morning, we were to set out at 6. It was already light when we woke up and the sun was just touching the summit of CB 13 by the time we were ready to leave. I took 10 minutes off to walk a little distance and say my goodbyes to the lake. I promised myself and the lake that I would be back soon and the next time round, to stay for more than a day or two... till the lake asked me to leave.