The summer I turned 23, I was travelling solo in a local bus from Kargil to Drass Valley for work purposes. I had work to do in the second coldest inhabited place on the planet. I could never have imagined life bringing me here.
Let me start from the beginning of how I got here and who I am. My name is Kuhelika and I grew up in Pune, Maharashtra. I graduated last year with a bachelor's in liberal arts, and a major in anthropology. I began collecting work experience in user experience research in 2020 and continued that career path after graduation. Human-computer interaction was where I believed my purpose lay. It was also an answer that did not confuse my parents much because, to them, any work to do with tech surely had good money. By the time 2023 began, however, ants crawled into my clothes and I began itching for a change. I was desperate for primary field research. For a career that focussed so much on human-centricity, I had been conducting a lot of interviews through a screen and trying to understand the context without visiting it myself. I understand the reasons for this kind of functioning but it was beginning to frustrate me. This was not for me. At least not at 22. I had travelled enough, and met enough people to know, that there were a thousand lives to be lived. If not this, then on to the next.
My next field of interest was human-wildlife coexistence. I sent emails and applied to several NGOs, expressing my interest in working with them and played the waiting game. After no replies from anyone, my luck struck while scrolling on Instagram. Roots Ladakh, a page I had randomly followed for its pictures of the Ladakh mountainscape, wanted a researcher and writer in the summer to work on a book on the flora and fauna of Drass Valley. It was an unpaid opportunity but they were taking care of the food and stay. During my interview with Muzammil Hussain, the founder, I realised that this was also a great foot in the door to exploring the human-wildlife coexistence space with their newly registered trust, the 'Himalayan Brown Bear Trust'.
This form of volunteering is quite risky for both parties involved in this exchange. The volunteer is investing their time with the promise of a final product in exchange for the organiser's resources. There needs to be sincerity on both ends. I believe I was extremely lucky in this aspect. Firstly, Muzammil's active involvement throughout the project despite having 78,74,028 things on his plate made the experience even richer. I had expected minimal mentorship from him because he just had a lot to do, so it was amazing to see his dedication, to see someone commit to so many things but not half-ass any of them. To work with someone like this makes you want to go the extra mile.
Secondly, I was blessed with the perfect partner volunteer, Anshruta Aniruddh, who was in charge of photography, illustrations and the design of the book. Our work ethic, priorities and love for the project were in such sync, that we wondered if Muzammil was the luckier one in this whole scenario.
In those two months, we made a second home in Kargil, going about our days as if this life was all we had ever known. Never for a second though did I take it for granted, bowing in gratitude every morning to the mountains that guarded the valley.
How did you convince your parents? Was it safe? What are the locals like? What does life look like in the Kargil that we've seen only in war movies? I know. There's a lot to unpack here. This is my first post on Tripoto. This is just an experiment to see if the audience here would be interested in knowing more. Let me know in the comments!
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As September begins, we sit in different corners of the country, nearing the final leg of the draft. I have gained a renewed clarity on the career path I want to pursue, a new dream to achieve, and a certainty of the quality of life I want to build for myself. Volunteer travel gave me in 2 months what people spend their lifetime searching for.
