Meeting the Photographic Yogi in Himalaya

Once trekking in the Himalaya I arrived at Gangotri where the beautiful Ganga descends in a big gorge to rush to meet the plains of Hindustan. I noticed a small hut sticking out over the ridge adjacent to the big Ganga Fall. It took me some half-an-hour to negotiate the river fall to reach the hut on other side of the gorge. But I was rewarded with the most beautiful exhibits of array of photographs depicting ever-changing moods and scenes of snowy peaks of Himalaya. At the height of some 18-20,000 feet, clouds, rains, and high rising snow-covered mountain slopes playing hide and seek games entrapped with the flowing Ganga and running glaciers - at dawn, in the hot sun or setting Sun, and sometime at the moon lit nights – the camera Yogi was always ready to capture the changing moods of the Shivling top and entrapped Bhagirathi running away from the Himalaya.

One of the striking photos was Omkar sketched on dark cloud background sticking out of the Shivling peak. No, it was not a tricky composition. Real Omkar was formed one day on top of the Shivling and the yogi managed to shoot it. I looked around the gallery and gently knocked on the small door but no one was guarding the place. I called out and looked inside. No one was there. Quietly I traced my steps out of the hut and on the ridge sat down waiting to meet the photographer.

The yogi arrived and offered me hospitality. He gave me a slice of bread full of nuts cooked in a solar cooker. At the height of Himalaya the sun is hot and the cooker is effective. He had an adjacent small hut for visitors where he kept 6 sleeping bags for guests. The story of this Yogi was touching and worthy of Ballyhooed script.

At 15, his father punished him for bunking the school. He ran away from home, and jumped on a train starting from Trivendrum to nowhere he knew. One thing was certain he wanted to go far away from his father so that not to be forced to study. Somehow he arrived at Rishikesh. Time and space had no value for him but finding some spot to shelter. A sadhu took him under his wings and the young lad became his cook and pat.
He roamed the Himalayan routes with the sadhu and often acted as a guide for the pilgrims. Years slipped away and at 20, as a cook and guide, he joined a Japanese team that was photographing the Himalayan scenes.

Near the Milam Glacier while crossing a ravine, he was forced into a big ditch. Interestingly, instead of rescuing him, the Japanese were enthusiastically photographing him, and that made him to think the importance of photographic technology. Laying in the cold and snowy ditch and being photographed, he felt some self-importance – like the film personalities and our political leaders. He was pulled up to safety and that evening the Japanese celebrated the event. Returning to the base, he bought a box camera in Rishikesh for Rs. 5.00. The shopkeeper offered him two films free “ to start him on his new venture”, and since than the Photo-swami had not looked back to any guru-vuru. He emerged in his own –self a full-fledged Himalayan Photographer. He had had many exhibitions in Germany, Austria and Switzerland, and had received many honorary fellowships to professional societies in India and abroad. Once his exhibition was also held at Indian International Center, New Delhi.

But his personal problem at that time had been somewhat complicated. An American woman came to his base and stayed with him for a few weeks and refused to leave him. He refused her proposal though could not refuse her love. But the relations were getting rather complicated as she was insisting to return to him from New York for good. “Did I do right not marrying the woman”? I said yes, because there is no guarantee how long the American adventurist would stick with you. You give up your ocre robe for her and after a few months or couple of years if she decided to leave you and return to America, you would be lost on the both fronts. Short-lived friendship all right but long-term commitment is rather difficult with such people.

One day the photo-swami turned up at my door. The American bride had sold all her things in New York and returned to Gangotri. She had become his soul mate, believing the two souls were destined to be together for seven lives at least if not to attain Nirvana together. After sometimes I received a letter the swami informing me that the local priests and other owners of Yoga-ashram establishments had destroyed all his photographs and his belonging were thrown in the Bhagirathi while he and his soul mate were away. Legal actions had been taken against the goondas but the loss of invaluable photographs of the Shivalingam peak was irreparable.