Pinned Down by Glacier Water
How a freezing dip in the Himalayas ended my wandering and pinned me in Kanyakumari.
I had this crazy obsession: the Panch Kailash. I wanted to check all five sacred peaks off my bucket list. So when I realized the Manimahesh Kailash Yatra was about to close for the season, I just packed my bags and left.
Flights, trains, cabs, buses, and even a bike ride—I took literally every mode of transport possible just to reach the base camp. Local legend says Manimahesh means the “Jewel of Mahesh” because, on clear nights, the peak glows like a gem from Shiva’s crown.
Honestly, before this trek, something inside me just wouldn’t settle. I was restless. I couldn’t stay in one place. I just had to keep moving.
But the best part of trekking isn’t just the landscapes or the thrill; it’s the people you meet.
A Sudden Turnaround
Midway up, I fell into pace with a group of Punjabi boys. They instantly took me in like family, sharing laughs and energy.
But just as we were hitting the halfway mark, I saw a guy rushing down the mountain in full speed
As he got closer, it clicked. It was the same guy who had been sitting on the other side of the back seat on my bus ride here. He was from Andhra. We’d shared a few brief, sweet words on the bus.
Curious, I stopped him. “Hey, are you already returning from the peak?”
To my surprise, he looked completely panicked, almost like he was possessed. “Bro, no! I’m not doing it. I am going back home.”
“Relax,” I told him. “Sit down. Take a breath and explain what happened.”
He sat down, took a few deep breaths, and shook his head. “No bro, I am done. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Bro, we are halfway there,” I said. “Come with me. We will go slowly, at your pace, and let’s finish it.”
He wasn’t convinced. Just then, the Punjabi crew caught up. They had a few real characters in the gang who instantly lightened the atmosphere, making him laugh and cheering him up. Within a few minutes, he was ready to hike back up with us. His name was Karthik.
Two Different Worlds
As we started walking, I stayed alongside Karthik, slowly probing him with questions just to bring him back into the moment. “What do you do? Where are you from?”
As we talked, I realized Karthik had actually been on two other Kailash treks before this. Both times, he got halfway up and quit. Walking away was easy for him. I poured all the motivation I had into him, pushing him to complete it this time. He seemed convinced.
“So, where else have you trekked?” I asked. “Nothing else, bro. Only this.” “What do you mean? No treks other than the Kailash peaks?” “Yes.”
Strange, I thought to myself.
“So do you travel a lot as well?” He looked at me strangely, smiled, and said, “No. Never. This is my first travel in the last four years.” “You mean outside of Andhra?” “No. Outside of my town.”
I was stunned. “What? That’s crazy. Why would you not travel?” “I run a chappal shop in the town. We are open all day, 8 AM to 8 PM. I go to the shop and come back at night. Wife, two kids, and parents.” “So you never go out?” “No.”
Suddenly, panic hit him again. “I want to go back. I don’t think I will be able to do this. I have a train to catch the day after tomorrow, so it’s better I leave now.”
“Don’t worry about the train,” I told him. “Don’t worry about what’s two days ahead. For now, let’s just focus on the peak. Put your head down and walk. Even if you miss the train, you can stay with me in the hostel for a night and leave the next day.”
The Punjabi boys jumped in, doing some more talking and pushing him forward. I moved to the front of the pack, walking in silence, completely reflecting on what Karthik had just told me compared to what I was going through.
Here was someone completely content in life with his routine. And here I was, just wanting to wander, unable to settle in one place or commit to one routine.
The Mission
Back at the bus station before the climb, Karthik had asked me if I had done any of the Kailash treks. I told him no, but that I planned to do all five this year. He had smiled gently and said, “One itself is difficult.”
At the time, I thought to myself, this guy doesn’t understand.
But for the next five hours until I reached the peak, I was entirely alone, and that thought was constantly running in my head. I had taken a different path than the Punjabi boys, who had slowed down because one of their members was struggling. Karthik was nowhere to be seen either.
Walking alone in that silence, it hit me. You really don’t need anything else when you have a clear mission in hand.
Karthik had one mission: to serve his family. As the sole earning member, his entire life was about putting bread on the table. Once every two years, he allowed himself this one escape—to do a trek up in Himachal, and he had chosen the Panch Kailash.
Now, I finally understood why he smiled when I said I’d do all five in a year.
The Lake and The Flow
Long story short? Karthik didn’t just finish the hike—he absolutely crushed it. He reached the glacier lake a whole hour before all of us.
When I finally arrived, he was waiting for me. I went straight in and took the freezing holy dip first. Seeing me do it, Karthik got tempted, took the plunge, and came out absolutely glowing. Afterwards, he pulled me into a massive hug. He was so incredibly happy.
By then, the Punjabi boys arrived, completely shocked to find out that Karthik had beaten me by a couple of hours.
But Karthik was in a hurry; he wanted to catch his train to Hyderabad as early as possible. We bid our goodbyes right there, and he took off.
I stayed back, chilling by the glacier lake with the Punjabi boys for a while. Afterward, I continued exploring, spending the whole day walking back down. On the way, I crossed paths with a few sadhus I had met briefly earlier—including a Nepali baba I ended up spending some time with. We shared some food, and then I finaly made my way down to the jeep stand.
I climbed into a jeep, waiting for it to fill up and take me to the nearest bus station. A few minutes later, a guy suddenly jumped into the back seat right next to me in a total hurry.
It was Karthik.
He was visually shocked to see me, and I was just as stunned. “Didn’t you leave?” I asked.
“No!” he said, out of breath. “I left an hour ago in another jeep, but the driver had an emergency, so he turned around and drove us right back here.”
As he narrated the incident, Karthik couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. But during the trek, the one thing we kept talking about was flow. Everything is just happening. Just be with it. Don’t try to force or change things. Karthik realized the natural flow was just meant to keep us together.
“Can I still come with you to Dalhousie?” he asked.
I was so glad he did.
Stillness
That was when Karthik introduced me to Putharekulu, a traditional Andhra sweet. He had brought a few boxes of it with him on the trek, purely to distribute his favorite hometown snack to the strangers he met along the way.
Karthik ended up staying with me for the next five days. When it was finally time for him to head home, he shared that this was his first-ever experience traveling solo and staying in a hostel, and it had shown him a whole new way to live. His eyes were full of tears as he left. So were the eyes of the few people in the hostel who stood around to see him off.
But the shift wasn’t just for Karthik. It was for me, too.
As humans, we often think everything we are searching for is out there, somewhere else. We plan too much, chase too much, and run too far. I had driven solo from the south to the far north and east of India, convinced that the answers were always over the next horizon.
But the truth is, most of it is right here. Right in the moment. Right under our nose, where we constantly fail to see it.
I had to climb 13,000 feet up a sacred mountain to realize that the depth, the peace, and the purpose I was running around the country looking for was actually waiting for me back in my own hometown. Karthik knew it all along. His mission was right in front of him every day from 8 to 8.
Karthik and the biting cold of that glacier water pinned me down. The restless wanderer who couldn’t stay in one place finally saw what was right in front of him. I decided right then that when I went back home, I wouldn’t leave Kanyakumari.
For almost a year, I didn’t go anywhere. I just stayed home, completely still, rooted in the present.
And out of that stillness... Smukti happened.
P.S. His real name is not Karthik, but you get the vibe, yeah?