Fights, and the ones that matter (Part I).... this is turning out to be LONG

Three days ago, it had been, when the storm started. Well technically, it was the 4^th night ago, but till then the storm seemed like a normal one, so they only started calling this storm, the storm from the next morning, three days ago. It was the worst storm in the regular memories of most people, and the worst storm in the story telling memories as well, since no one, at the bar, that evening, or at dinner tables, in the houses talked about how, he’d been stuck in a worse storm. On the morning of the 12^th, the storm had started on the 10, people started to leave town. They packed up their carts, and started engines and left the town, half sleding half in wagons, to go down to the lower levels of the hill.

Only Anjali remained in the town. Her husband, Raul was out hunting, he’d left on the morning of the 9^th, and had taken supplies for a three day stay in the woods just above their house. Anjali and Raul were a young couple, not yet 3 years into their marriage, the glow of marriage still hung about them, and often they would be seen with their arms around each other walking around town, or sitting silently with each looking out over the magnificent mountains across the valley. But like all young couples, they fought too. Luckily it wasn’t the kind of fighting that had any meaning, they just still weren’t exasperated enough with each other to no bother about the littlest things.

Raul loved hunting, and his wife hated it. Well, she hated that it meant he would have to leave her, specially in these colder winter months, she thought it was particularly mean to leave her alone, and go out hunting. What she didn’t realise was that, he didn’t go out any more than was needed to keep their pantry stocked for the winter. That wasn’t because of his love for his wife, but mostly just because it was cold, and dangerous, and at home, she’d be there. So he went out infrequently, but still he did, and she still didn’t like it.

And on the 9^th when he’d left, she’d been particularly angry at him. “We’ll live of canned beans,” She shouted at him, as he silently checked his gear in the living room, “but i don’t want you going out today. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“oh comeon Honey, it’s not big deal, i’ll be back by tomorrow night, at the latest.”

“No, Raul don’t go, look, I’m not superstitious and all, but it’s not a good idea, I just feel that way.”

“Uf! Comeone!” he replied, sighing inwardly, knowing how superstitious she could be, “I’ve been hunting in these woods for years now, nothing is going to happen to happen to me, and besides we’re almost out of meet, and the roads to the plains are all blocked, in a few days we’ll be snowed in too, and we won’t have any meet, you now how hard it is go get bye a winter without.”

“Oh we’ll manage!” She was getting desperate, “Please babe? For me? Just this one time, don’t go out,” she was in a pitiable state, suddenly, frantic, almost. There were tears in her eyes, and she was very really beseeching him. He didn’t get it, ‘what’s the big deal?’ he asked himself, and then her.

“Nothing babe, just don’t go na?”

Raul wasn’t the kind of guy who did things just because others asked, he prided himself on being extremely rational. ‘well, if it’s something supernatural, it’ll happen just as easily at home, as outside, so what’s the big deal?’ “Look honey, you’re acting quite weird, it’s just a feeling, it’ll pass, and i’ll be back before you can even start to worry properly. Ankur told me about a good herd of deer that seems to be pasturing in the valley, just over the pass, and I’ll only go that far, don’t worry, and I have my radio, I’ll be in touch all the time.”

He’d finished tying his boots by this point, and the discussion seemed moot at least to him. So he picked up his gear bag, put his rifle by the door, and walked over to her, and tried to take her into his arms. She resisted, but he still forced a kiss on her cheek. She really couldn’t resist his strength, and she turned away from him as soon as he let her go. He walked to the door, and said, “good bye love,” as he normally did, but she didn’t reply, and instead just went into the kitchen. He didn’t like that, but instead of going after her, he just shouldered his bag, and left, the shutting of the front door clicked loudly in the house, as she stood staring at the stove in the kitchen.

She wasn’t quite sure why she was behaving like this, there was no reason to be this afraid, but she was, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She didnh’t like the way Raul had just brushed aside her fear. Even if it was irrational, he should respect it? Shouldn’t he? Well, no, not really, she answered, she wouldn’t have respected something he said, if it was that unfounded. Hmm... well, hoping her fears really were unfounded, she started about her chores.

And then the storm had started. The radio had long since been silent. He’d reached the little outcrop of rock near a spring he always camped at when he went into that valley, she’d been there too, in the summer months, it was a really nice spot. Perched near the middle of the valley on an outcrop of rock, it was elevated a little above the bowl of the valley, and commanded a nice view of the whole depression. The best part, as Raul had explained was that the little stream that fed the valley, was within rifle shot from the camp, which made hunting very easy. Also there was a convenient depression in the rocks of the outcrop just behind where they sat to watch the valley, and in it, he pitched his  tent, which was then safe from the worst of the weather.

He had spoken on the radio continuously, till he’d reached camp, but once he’d started setting up camp, of course, he stopped chattering to her, and set about to work. She too had busied herself with the stuff in the house. Around the night of the 9^th when the snowing really started, he’s spoken to her, a little worried about snow collecting around his tent, he’d told her that he was spreading the snow flaps over the whole depression, rather than just his tent, so that the snow couldn’t get in around him.

And then because of the clouds, the static had got too bad, and they couldn’t hear each other. The last thing he’d said was, it was getting pretty bad out there, and he would probably head home as soon as he could, eve without hunting.

Anjali was worried now, not quite aware of the building fury of the blizzard, she sat in her bed, silently, wordlessly praying for her husband.

Raul wasn’t doing that badly. While he soon realised this was a worse storm than he’d even imagined hitting his little town, he’d heard stories of worse from the hunters that prowled the higher valleys in summer, and even their porters. They’d been people who’d been reduced to cannibalism, and eating lichen because of the snow in the passes, and a man who had lost all his fingers to frost bite as he dug his way out of his tent in the morning.

That at least wouldn’t happen to him, Raul, thought quite confidently, fingering his snow gear, and regretting not brining his skis with him. They would have made the morning’s travel much faster. But with just moccasins, he’d have a tough time walking back. He lay in his sleeping bag, strategysing about his return plans. Whether he should carry back all his gear, or leave some here, and if so what. He wondered about the weight of the snow on his tent roof, and wondered if it would collapse, but it really shouldn’t. His tent was pitched in a place where snow would be blown up, or collect. The depression itself was completely protected by a false roof, of snow flaps, so that it would be completely dry in the morning. In effect, the whole depression had been turned into a big tent. Except near it’s mouth,  where there was a small gap and some snow would come in.

He looked over his kit, and thought, the stove would be a good idea to leave behind, but it was also the only source of heat he carried. Much of his  food could be left here, but then, he might get lost, or it could be useful back in town. It was a good 5 day supply, with plenty extra. Some fuel atleast he thought he could leave behind, and perhaps the stuff he’d bought to clean the meet with. He’d carry both his rifles back of course, but he could leave one box of ammunition behind? Hmmm... and what about the tent? He kept returning to that question. It was the biggest debate in him. Without it, he could be sure of making his way back into town in one day, because of the lesser weight, and no packing time, but without it, if he was caught out in the open, chances of survival would depend on his sleeping bag alone. It was certified to be enough, in temperature upto 6 below freezing, thanks to some new material in the insulation, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to take that risk. Still, it would take a lot of time to clear off the snow and break camp in the morning. What about the flash lights, and oil lamp? Well he’d leave the oil lamp behind, that was a no brainer, and perhaps one flash light, but he’d carry the extra battery from it. Then he turned to his footware, adn decided that it was all moccasin country from here on in, and he had another pair of boots at the house, so he’d leave his boots behind, they heavy.

Debating with himself, and wondering how to ensure that his stuff remained safe, he fell asleep, strangely secure in the warmth of his ultra alpine sleeping jacket, and a false sense of safety born from it’s warmth.

-2-

At home anjali was in torment. She looked out of the window and saw snow falling in sheet, she couldn’t make out any of the houses in her row, only hulking masses of stillness, suggested where they might be. And there was no light anyway.

Dawn on the tenth was the day of the meeting, everyone had gone to the town hall, to discuss what was to be done, and almost everyone had agreed to leave town. The two big trucks with snow ploughs would leade the caravan, and hopefully, they would make it far enough down the valley to escape the snow, and make it to the plains. Someone who had a satellite Tv told them that the storm was already all over the news, and the government had set up several relief camps just below the snow line, barely a day’s drive from where they were. That sounded hopeful, and everyone felt rather sure as they were leaving.

Anjali hadn’t gone to the meeting. She’d stayed home, wanting to be there when Raul came back. She knew about the relief camps, and knew that’s where everyone in town would head for. It made sense too, and she would have gone, had Raul not said he was coming back.

By about noon the snowing stopped, the snow was already piled high against her front door, and the she could only look out her second storey windows. Her neighbour, Mrs. Singh, had come by to tell her the news, and invite her to join her family as they left town. “after all we have plenty of space in our new hummer.” Mr. Sing was the only man in the town who owned a car more expensive than his house. While his family never missed a chance to remind the town of that fact, the town for the most part, thought it quite funny that they could get more credit on a car than their own home.

Anjali politely refused. “Raul said he’d be back today, I need to be here for him, can’t leave without.”

“Oh but, you really can’t stay here all by yourself, if it starts snowing again, you may get buried, and then it’s not safe alone, what if you need something, or if some kind of medical emergency comes up? I’m sure Raul will be fine, and he’ll come down the valley to the camp himself. That’s part of the reason I suggested you come with us. You could leave him the car then, and a note, saying where we were going.”

That did sound like a lot of good sense to Anjali, but she was very anxious, and she wanted to see Raul herself, not leave him the car. She thought about it for a second, and decided she would rather wait at home.

“But they’ll have choppers and the lot, doing searches and stuff. He’ll not be coming back here, he’ll most probably make it to the camp before we do. I heard they’ve already launched the first search parties, and helicopters.”

Again Ajali paused. But she was in one of those moods, when we’ve already committed to a decision, and was now only interested is seeing it work, rather than really making another decision or unmaking this one. “Well, I think he’d actually come back first, it’s not that far from where he is right now. A day’s walk, so he’ll be here by night fall, but if he’s hurt, he’ll need someone with him, we’ll come down together tomorrow morning.” She looked up at the sky. It was turning a bright azure blue, quite clear of any threat. “It’ll be fine,” she said.

Mrs. Singh, gave a slight shake of her head, and left. Anjali was aware of a slight chink in her plans, not quite sure what it was, but still certain that it was there, like that little hole in an otherwise intact garment, but enough to render the garment unwearable. She just didn’t know what it was. She went back inside, and resumed her normal routine of making breakfast, and eating it, and washing up.

Throughout the morning she heard the sounds of traffic from the street, several cars, and human voices were passing her. No one came up to her door, to ask if she was going or not. But several cars hooted at her door, perhaps calling her out? Soon that steady stream died down, and there was an unearthly quiet in the town, and around her house. There was nothing more for her to do, so she sat down in the living room and turned on the tv. Hoping to catch some news.

There wasn’t much. The whole hillside was completely covered. There hadn’t been many people coming into the camps yet, but by night fall most of the towns would be evacuated it was hoped. Several helicopter search teams were combing the hill, looking for distress signals. No survivors had yet been picked up, but the search had only just begun. The images they showed were of a slope of white, featureless, almost. Nothing was visible, except the tops of a few trees. And this even on sloping land. She wondered which part of the hill they were showing, because she knew her own town didn’t look so bad. The houses were still clearly visible. Though at least 3 feet of snow lay on the ground, one could still see out of the lower windows, and the first storey was completely clear of all snow.

The news also spoke of the relief camps, which were being provided with several state of the art medical centres, for alpine needs, and a few medi lifts to bigger hospitals in the plains. Hoping no one would have to use those, she went upstairs.

In her own bedroom, she wondered, there was nothing really for her to do. So she lay down, and started wondering about him.

-3-

He had waited a little longer than he should have, after the snow had stopped, just to be sure, it wouldn’t come back when he wasn’t ready for it. When the skies cleared, he felt sure, that the snow wouldn’t return, it had been one of those freak storms that happened every once in a while, and things would be okay now. He wondered how things were down in town. It didn’t look very good around him. The snow was thick, and judging by the apparent floor of the valley, at least 5 feet deep, lower down, obviously it wouldn’t be this bad, but it would have hit the town pretty badly for sure.

He busied himself backing his gear, trying to make his pack as light as possible, packing only enough food for two days, after that if he hadn’t reached somewhere, he’d be lost anyway. And then, he shouldered his rifle, and it’s weight reassured him, though, he also smiled in irony, what could a million rounds of ammunition do to get him through this? And he thought of using the powder to make charges to move the snow, or small flashes of warmth to keep himself warm. He actually thought about it for a sec, if the heated barrel of his gun would be a better way to do the warming, or to burn the powder outside it’s casing. Of course, this was just idle thought, he knew that the gun would only be useful in the most conventional way of providing protection and food if it came to that.

As he set out, picking his way between the rocks of his little outcrop, back towards the floor of the valley, he realised, how much worse the storm really had been, compared to what he’d assumed from his initial cursory inspection. It was piled high against the outcrop, and he was less than halfway down, when he reached the new floor of the valley, of crunchy fresh snow.  A little vary of the possibility of drifts, he tested the snow around him before he trusted his weight to him. Under the moccasins it shifted a little, and he sunk half an inch, but just as he was starting to panic, it turned hard under him, and supported his weight just fine. He knew this kind of snow, it would need compacting before he could support his weight on it. He took out his ski pole, to use as a feeler infront of him, for particularly light snow, while, with every step he took, he first pressed down, on the snow, crushing it together (compaciting it) before putting his weight on it. The crunch sounded nice, and around the out crop at least he didn’t sink more than a few inches, so it wasn’t a big deal. The valley was rather flat, and smooth, nothing to worry about, nothing to create drifts, or trenches, it would be a simple, if slow march back to the boulders which marked the start of his descent to the town.

Wishing he had his skis again, he started off...

It was tedious work, but regular, and slowly his body developed a rythm, first poking the snow with his pole, and then stepping on it with the tip of his moccasins, and finally  the pressing, stepping and moving forward. He managed to start looking around him, and saw the valley in a completely different light, nothing that he was familiar with marked the valley floor, it was an undulating white, and even, here, near the edges, it was hard to make out anything. The snow was very deep, it was a good thing he knew this place so well, so he took his bearing naturally, and knew that within a few degrees, he’d be walking in the right direction.

He checked his compass just to be sure. It hung from a clip around his belt, and as he reached for it, his hand brushed an empty holder also attached to his belt. It was the two way radio. But it wasn’t there, he’d left it in the tent. It would be okay, he knew but, he thought about going back and getting it. It would be nice to call Anjali, and let her know that he was fine, and he was coming home. But when he looked back over his shoulder, he realised, he’d come a long way, and he just didn’t want to do all that hard work over. Plus he thought, she may not even be at home, after all, in such weather, the town would have left for the plains and she would probably be with them.

He trudged on, the snow under him crunching pleasantly till he found firmness, and then the next step. It was glaringly bright, and he put on his hunting glasses to shield his eyes. The glare gone, he looked around again, and what seemed a completely alien setting. And then he thought again about his radio, and his compass, and became a little apprehensive, looking back over his shoulder, he could still see the outcrop, where it should be, directly behind him, if he had chosen the right line to head for the descending path. That reassured him, and he trudged on. Things became easier, as the sun came out, and the snow, till now light and feathery, started to become harder, and more like ice. His feet actually started taking shallower steps, and he used his ski pole less. Still he was wary, and didn’t exactly walk recklessly into disaster.

That’s not to say  that disaster didn’t find him.

As he was walking along, suddenly the snow, he stepped on, gave way, and it was mush all around him, cold, disgusting mush, and his feet sunk deeper and deeper, till he felt mud below his soles and his moccasins almost got sucked into them. Some how twisting his feet, he struggled forward, thrusting aside the large amounts of snow with his arms, often in several passes, before he could force his body through.

It was a hard struggle, and each step forward took immense amounts of energy to create, he was steadily tiring, and though the sun wasn’t every hot yet, he was perspiring under his heavy jacket. When the snow finally started to be brittle under his moccasins and he managed to crush enough snow underfoot to create a kind of stairway, back to the top of the snow.

It was hard work too, with his arms, he’d remove much of the snow about half an arms length infront of him. And then with his moccasins try to pack it firmly underfoot, only to get a slippery, shortlived kind of step, that continually disintegrated under him, making the creation of the next step a race, with Raul on slippery footing... (that was a pun, get it? I’m really proud of that one... [because the ice is slippery right?]

Some how he struggled up, and got onto the more crunchy solid kind of snow. Think of the difference being the same in the texture of a slush(the marsh) and a chuski/goli thing, with crushed ice. Obviously it’s very easy to walk on the ice (Compartitively.). When he was back on the surface and progressing on what seemed like fairly good snow. He straightened up to have a look at his bearings. The Sun was much higher than he’d have liked to be. His said 11 o’clock, which was where he usually would start his decline, and he wasn’t even half way there. He’d have to go faster, but he needed to rest too. So he put his pack down, and sat on it, to dissipate the weight of his body over the surface. The bag didn’t sink much. That was a good sign.

He pulled out a chunk of meat, and a brown roll. Without further ado he just bit a big chunk out of the meet, and started chewing, midway through his morsel, he bit an equally big bit out of the roll. And he returned to his purposeful chewing, the most deliberate exhibition of eating ever.

Before he was completely done with either, he stood up, hoisted the bag over his shoulders, and started walking. Things were getting late enough, without wasting more time than needed. With the rest, and the food, and the better conditions, Sun drying snow, snow hardening, good day, etc. Etc. He thought he was making good progress, and home grew closer with every step.

-4-

It was two in the afternoon when she woke with a start. ‘What is happening, where am i?’ she thought, in quick nervous succession, then her senses returned, and she remembered she was in her own bed, at home, her husband outside, braving the worse storm since god knows when, and they were all alone on this hillside, with nothing but more snow, albeit in lessoning quantities down the hill between them and aid.

She closed her eyes to massage her thoughts on that realisation, then she opened them and something was wrong. Nothing changed the blackness of her eyes shut, wasn’t lifted when she opened them. It was pitch black, but a dim grey, from the ambient light outside. With the blinds drawn, there wasn’t much chance for sunlight to get in. But still some must have leaked, illuminating a dim grey. The house always had at least one light on, so there should be much more light in the house, but there wasn’t. Then it struck her the electricity was off. That explained her disorientation when she woke up. She checked her bedside clock, it was barely 

2

.

She wondered what to do, knowing full well, that the emergency generators in the basement were electric starters and just a convenient button push in the kitchen away. But she didn’t want to do it. She had a sudden minute long vision of herself lying on the bed, waiting for him to come home, taking neither food nor water, just pining, and shrinking. When in her vision her body had shrunken to almost a bag of bones, with each bone clearly visible... He opens the door, himself uglified by time, and comes to her side, as she draws her last breath.

The image was stupidly romantic enough to make her laugh. She got out of bed now, not hurriedly nor lethargically, but with the usual deliberate purpose of everyday, and went downstairs to the kitchen to turn on the generators. Once they were up and running, and the whole house was full of their humming, thank god Raul had insisted on good silencers for both, she went to the drawing room, and turned on the tv, hoping to find out what was up.

The world hadn’t changed much, her part of it was still white and impassable. The camps at the bottom of the hill were almost full, with new tents and people constantly coming in. Most people were fine, and a surprisingly small number of people were as yet known to be dead, under 20. But the mention of death made her think of Raul, she shuddered. Wondering that he was doing.

The news bulletin continued, saying power had been cut on all lines on the hill, because of an impending low pressure system which would bring high speed winds to the area, and with the snow and everything, they didn’t want to add snapped power lines to their problems, so the power had been turned of, until further notice.

Almost on cue, the wind started howling on the hill side just above her, and then it came tearing through the town, almost vengeful in it’s violence, as though it wanted to remove from the face of the earth their little dot. Though she didn’t feel anything in the house, she heard a loose sheet of tin clattering against a roof somewhere, and a few impacts and debris hit either stationary targets or each other. The shadows of trees that fell into the house, became oddly bent over, and shook, and waved, creating dizzy patterns on the walls and floor. The wind blew the snow before it, and so it was almost impossible to look out of the window after a while, and everything was a uniform grey of blurred motion, like looking out of a moving cars window when it rains.

She shuddered, and turned the tv off.

Up on the hill side, Raul had been struggling through 3 hours of snow, walking steadily, but a little slowly towards where he was now certain the descent began. But if the elements had let up for a bit, you remember when last we heard about him, it was 11 am, he was now in a race against time. If he didn’t make to the decline before 1, or 1.30 at the latest, it would be hard to get home during daylight after that.

And at 2 he was finally at the decline. It was late, but not so much later, he could still, or at least hope to still make it down to his house before it was completely dark, taking advantage of the twilight. On the whole, things weren’t yet desperate, though they were definitely bad.

Now barely ten meters from the descent, the wind started. Completely out of the blue, from behind him he heard a loud rush, as though several very light carpets were being dragged against the snow behind him. He barely managed to turn around, when the wind was on him. It was ice cold, and knocked the breath out of him, He stood their his eyes closed against the fury of gale, gasping for breath, and almost blown  away by the force of it. He grabbed onto a rock in the side of the hill and crumpled his body against the hill side, and turned his face inwards, away from the fury of the gale. Then he managed to suck in some air, he was desperate for. And open his eyes, but the wind was inside his hunting glares, and he shut them again. For some stupid reason he’d packed his winter goggles, which were also windproof. Now thankful, he managed to dump his bag on the ground, and imeediately he felt a relief as the drag from the big bag on his back cut, and he was able to manage his own body without effort against the wind. He sat down in the lee of his bag and started searching for his winter goggles, wondering about what the hell he’d do next.

Sitting out the wind wasn’t an option, there was no knowing when it would die down, and he wasn’t in any kind of sheltered spot yet, so he would just freeze if he tried to sit it out, not to mention, he had no food, and only the water he hadn’t drunk on his way up, since he’d not had a chance to refill from the spring. No his best option, he decided was to walk down, or at least try to keep walking, if things became much worse, he could find a better place to rest in.

He got up, it was less of struggle now, and he could open his eyes comfortably. Everything around him was tinted with the green from his goggles, and it seemed a little strange, a sea of green gas, like the Wilfred Owen poem. But at least it wasn’t poisonous, not necessarily less dangerous than WWI gas, but not intentionally so, which at times is enough of a difference.

When he hoisted his bag up, suddenly, it became a sail and caught him off guard, almost sweeping him off the side of the hill. But he held on, using only his back muscles, suddenly reminded of how bad that was for his spine, and how the chances of a slip disk were increased when stress was laid on the spine. Of course, this was bullshit, given his context, but the human mind is strange. When he turned his back to the wind, because thankfully, it was blowing in the same direction that he needed to walk, for now, He had to anchor his moccasins to stay in place. Suddenly he wished he’d been wearing his boots, which were much better for this kind of work, since the snow wasn’t so thick here, and  he could almost feel the stony path underfoot. But he decided not to change footwear, and started down the path. His upper body was twisted towards the hill side, and he used his hands to secure holds, and anchor. The snow wasn’t very deep here, and he could reach over and grab the tips of protruding rocks, and even the occasional branch tip.

His world around him was a dull green. No visible sunlight, just not dark. Debris flashed by, he couldn’t make out what it was. He hoped his little camp up in the hollow would be safe. It was a long time, and struggle before he was able to make any steady progress, and when he checked his watch, as he caught his breath, when the path went around a corner, and the hill sheltered him from the wind. It was already 3, but the good news is, path would wind down the sheltered side of the hill for a bit, and keep him out of the wind. But it was very late, the bend he was at, was barely half an hour from the top of the descent on a good day, and it had taken him an hour to make it to this point. He could make better time on the sheltered side of the hill, but he felt certain now, that he wasn’t getting home using natural light. Still he could cover the last hour or so, easily with torch light, it wouldn’t be a problem, as long as the wind died down by the time he got there.

There was the point where the path came back on to the exposed side of the hill, it was also a rather flat section of the hillside.