[kl-bogel] India,Part 2

в Индии
Probably, it is incorrect to call another person, you just an acquaintance, who spent a few days of his life. Maybe it's that it was not gray days and weeks in the Himalayas and all - nature, people and events of the time - live in my memories warm night campfire, the smell of wet snow and pine needles, the taste of the hookah and spices.

Mamziddyk was one of four conductors who accompanied us on this track in the mountains of Kashmir. Short, skinny and very smart, he was older than everyone else. Downstairs, in the village Naranag where we started, it waited for his wife and three children. It seemed that in him and live baby shower - the naive eye, ingenious acts foolishly, and a teenage tomboy. All to him and treated - and he was not offended.

Cape of coarse cloth, torn pants and plastic shoes with torn socks, not even closing his fingers - it's all in what he was wearing. Apparently, extreme poverty and content rather big family did not allow him to equip better.

The purpose of one of our radial output was a mountain lake. Spring passes are not yet cleared of snow and very heavy lifting. The main part of our group after several hours of recovery turned back to me were the two conductors, including Mamziddyk.

All were exhausted, but my guides were not offered to me to turn - perhaps it is forbidden to rule, and they were afraid of losing money, paid for their work. When we finally froze, made a fire and warmed up, I saw a frozen leg Mamziddyka - I felt ashamed because I was in mountain boots.


Back in camp! "- My words were received with unprecedented joy, they both began to dance around the campfire, sing something in their language, and then suddenly began to rub my feet and massage. Apparently, they still perceive me as a white master, and they do not seem demeaning.

All the way back we sang songs, first I have repeated them some mantras and then smashed on the mountain echo the voices of my companions County, with barely shouting something like "oh, marosch, Maro-osch Nye marosch Minya!" - No one letter was not Russian, though the motive guess.

In the evening around the fire, we smoked hookah with conductors, singing songs, and it was no longer appears on the relationship of white masters and servants. Referring to Mamziddyku, I said, "May frend," he replied to the same.

After returning to Naranag we bade farewell to our guides. In parting, I gave Mamziddyku his socks, a sweater and a few rupees - it seems he was happy! Maybe now it warm my socks and a sweater, and my warm memories of the little man in big Himalayas.

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