Pancha Kedar
Kalpeshwar, Rudranath, Tunganath, Madhyamaheshwar, and Kedarnath
Mountains Have Their Own Way of Calling
June 27th midnight, a message from Anurag and it said “Don’t cut it out because of logical thinking.”
I slept over it. I had skeptical thoughts, whether to go or not. Mountaineering is not difficult; decision-making is. However, within 20 minutes of deciding, plans were in motion, and in less than 120 minutes, I was airborne to Dehradun. What followed was not a pilgrimage in the traditional sense, but a test : a test of endurance, a test of belief, a test of of how far one can go when the climbing partner himself does not permit compromise.
Anurag and I first met on the flanks of Manaslu. That mountain introduced us, tested us, and sent us both home safe. Since then, his journey continued. In 2022 he climbed Dhaulagiri. Mine paused for a while, tangled in the knots of life. However the passion for the mountains, and training never fully died out.
Three years passed. Ups and downs, progress and regress, success and failure, ego and insult. Slowly, I began to surface from all these deep complexities. And it was more or less similar in Anu’s life as well.
Some instantaneous journeys create lifetime memories
We flew to Dehradun and reached Rishikesh. Ganga aarti, and the magic of a city that has been a threshold for everyone. Travel was uncertain. Heavy rains, landslide alerts, government buses cancelled. We had come all the way to the gateway, and now it was just a few more difficult steps, each demanding careful decisions.
In the rain-soaked early morning, we found ourselves in jeeps, moving from Rishikesh to Chamoli to Joshimath and finally Badrinath. Thirteen hours. Three interchanges. Landslides, punctures, near-misses. And then, the roar of the Alaknanda welcomed us.
The hot spring washed away fatigue, and the Badrinath valley reminded me of the stories my grandmother used to narrate. She never left Andhra Pradesh, yet she painted those mountains so vividly that standing there felt like walking into her memory. I am not a religious person. I don’t follow any religion, but my belief is in the sacredness of these highlands and the power of nature, which is undeniable. And reaching Badrinath felt less like a plan, more like permission. When the supreme power approves your request, I don’t think any obstacle would dare hinder the objective.
Kalpeshwar was the first step, hidden deep in Urgam Valley. Small, intimate, rooted. A beginning that reminds you how insignificant you are.
Rudranath was another story. I think the mountains guided us by sending a couple of local village women along our route. Without them, we would have lost our way in that forest on the very first leg of the journey. River crossings barefoot were another challenge here. The wild forest path, leeches, and bear pug marks on the way from Dumak to Panar Bugyal tested our endurance. And finally came the freezing water bath in the evening at Rudranath. The pain in this journey felt like sweating out the ego, a slow purification of the soul.
Tunganath, the highest Shiva temple, felt almost like a cakewalk by the time we reached it.
Madhyamaheshwar revealed a valley of unexplainable beauty. We slept near the temple, stripped of distractions, stripped of pretence.
And Kedarnath, the crown, was for me the fulfilment of a 10-year dream. Five darshans. Each one not just devotion, but the discipline of returning again and again until effort itself dissolves.
Traveling with Anurag is unlike traveling with anyone else. He does not bend, not for comfort, not for food, not for fatigue. Six years a vegan, with climbing experience of living in the death zone without an oxygen mask, he carries the same uncompromising clarity into every step. That clarity forces reflection.
I believe, when there is a call from the mountains, every obstacle becomes an easy bridge to cross, every difficulty automatically becomes a support, and every thought of giving up turns into determination.
So it worked in that exact way. Perhaps it was also my superstition after all. In the mountains, the slower you take it, the better you get it.
We spoke about aspiration, selfishness, money, ego.
Where does endurance end and ambition begin?
Where does ambition end and surrender begin?
The mountains gave us no direct answers, but in their shadows we found our own.
Anurag went ahead and I followed him each day.
The most impressive part was when locals said it was almost impossible to cover a particular distance in one day, we completed it. Not as fast as the locals, yes, but almost close to their timings, especially the trek from Dumak to Panar and Rudranath.
Anurag’s time to reach Kedarnath in 4 hours from Gaurikund. My time was 5 hours.
On July 9th, after Kedarnath, we descended. Shared taxis, crowded roads, back to Rishikesh, then flights that split our paths again, mine to Ahmedabad, his to Hyderabad.
Looking back, I know this: Pancha Kedar wasn’t our plan. It was a script already written, the day we first crossed paths in the streets of Thamel, Kathmandu. The mountains had simply chosen their time to call us back. And when mountains call, logic has no place.
Some instantaneous journeys create lifetime memories. This was one of them.
Your blog is a constant source of intellectual fuel for all of us. Absolutely brilliant insights delivered with exceptional clarity—keep pouring that wisdom out!