A ‘killer python’ atop Dhauladhar

IN October this year, I had gone to Kangra to attend a wedding. Early in the morning, my eyes were transfixed on the spectacular view to the north — the snow-covered towering Dhauladhar rising up from the Kangra plains and straddling over tens of kilometres.  

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It’s not that I was seeing the mountain range for the first time. But this morning, my eyes lingered on it for long. I was trying to locate high up on its glaciated jagged profile, particularly five of the passes which I once crossed over long time ago. Struck by nostalgia, I recalled the times when, as a young geologist with the Geological Survey of India, I led two expeditions to Dhauladhar about 40 years ago. 

One of the traverses, etched deep in my memory, was undertaken from Kuarsi village on the other side of the mountain range in the Ravi valley to Khaniara (near Dharamsala) through Kundli pass (about 15,000 ft). It turned out to be more than mere field work. 

Our party comprising two geologists and eight porters was atop Kundli pass on August 17, 1975, after having made two camps from Kuarsi. In eerie tranquility at the top, we stood there for some time, taking in the distant views on either side — the snow-clad Pir Panjal range in the north and Kangra valley towards the south. Right on the other side of the summit down below lay a glacier named ‘Sarali ka Pher’ (coil of python) for its serpentine disposition. As we started our descent, we were surprised to find a part of the wreckage of an Air Force jet. We had heard the news of the crash a few days ago, but did not expect to find it on our route. There was a sprinkling of metallic pieces of different size, nuts and bolts, besides a jumbled up mass of metal and wires. One of the things that I picked up left me shocked: a piece of bone! About a foot long, it had some greasy material attached to it. Maybe it was of the unfortunate pilot, who, perhaps due to poor visibility, had crashed the jet against the granite crags around Sarali ka Pher. As I solemnly wrapped it in a piece of white cloth, the entire atmosphere around us was dipped in sorrow. We carried it with us with a view to handing it over to the IAF authorities.

After having covered two camps from Kundli pass, just as we were making our final descent to Khaniara, we met a group of persons climbing up. Attired in blue uniform, their identity couldn’t have been mistaken. The Air Force team, along with porters, was on its way to the site of the crash. 

Our brief introduction over, we stood for a while together mourning the untimely death of the young pilot as I handed over the packet to them.