An autumn dance with death
Exactly 15 years ago I was involved in an incident that forever linked me with the Russian Far Eastern city of Khabarovsk.
As the years go by we all associate dates with particular events in our lives. There are birthdays, wedding and death anniversaries, national and religious holidays and even anniversaries of a special or traumatic event. Time definitely alters our memories of events, good or bad. So, this essay may just be a distortion of what happened between September 20 and 23, 2007. I don’t often think of the events that occurred on those autumn days in the Russian Far East, not even when the anniversary comes up. However, it just hit me today that my ‘autumn dance with death’ happened exactly 15 years ago.
September 20, 2007- Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, Sakhalin: I was close to saying goodbye to the Russian Far East. After spending some of the most memorable years of my life in this town of 200,000, the writing was on the wall. I needed a change.
In a period lasting over four years I had built up strong friendships with people in many different parts of the region. One place I loved to visit regularly was Khabarovsk, a beautiful city by the Amur River which is close to China and borders wild forests that are home to snow leopards and Amur tigers.
On that autumn afternoon, I was ready for my last mini-vacation in that part of the world. Working as a stringer for Reuters, I was thrilled that an article I wrote the previous day was a major exclusive that moved the oil markets. I had a backpack and a small suitcase ready as the taxi approached by flat.
Few things excited me as much as spending time with my best friend Vassili or Vasya in Khabarovsk. He was still a university student at that time and was a magnet for the nicest, most interesting and beautiful people I had ever come across. It was a warm 25 degrees in Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, where the so-called Indian Summer stays on till the first 10 days of October. Khabarovsk usually gets cold by September but I was told the days were still warm and pleasant there that year.
As I was about to board an old Antonov-24 aircraft for Khabarovsk, the words of my teacher Tamara Vasilevna played in my mind. “Just be careful,” she told me when I had spoken to her that morning. She had some kind of intuitive feeling that this particular trip to Khabarovsk would have some sort of unexpected consequences.
The Antonov turbo-propelled plane flew ever so slowly over the Tatar Strait and to the Eurasian landmass before turning south and landing in Khabarovsk. As soon as I landed and walked to the baggage rack, I saw them. Vasya, Dima and Vasalina. They’d come to the airport with a placard saying “Khabarovsk welcomes Ajay.” The locals were wondering what the noisy youth were on about and then gave a few curious stares to a visible foreigner who could be spotted from miles in a place where a person of non-European physical appearance was a rarity.
Oh Khabarovsk! You beauty by the Amur. It was t-shirt and light jacket weather in the city and we walked on the main thoroughfare- the Muravyev-Amurskogo Street, which is laid out much in the same way as St. Petersburg’s celebrated and much written about Nevsky Prospect.
I had long ceased being exotic in Sakhalin. The island had more than it share of expatriates and unlike in 2003, when I would turn heads wherever I went, I could walk without much attention in Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk. Khabarovsk was a different cup of tea. The city had students from all across the Russian Far East, and for them seeing a young Indian man in his 20s was a novelty. Of course I returned each smile I got from those beautiful girls. Where was the harm?
For some reason Vasya could not host me this time around, so I went to stay with my friend Katya, an educationalist who enjoyed biking in the mountains. She had even ridden her bicycle in Ladakh!
September 21: Khabarovsk:
As soon as I woke up, I looked outside the bedroom window and saw a golden yellow landscape. The cooler autumn nights ensured that the leaves changed colour, and the weather in the region made bright yellow the dominant shade of autumn. On my insistence, Katya and I took the much slower tram to the city centre instead of a bus. The blue skies, melange of yellow and green leaves with shades of orange and red, made the outskirts of Khabarovsk a visual treat.
In the city centre we met Vasya, Dima, Vasalina and a few of our other friends. The plan was to go to a forest area called Voronezh-1, where we would have a barbecue and drink a lot of beer, all the while enjoying the autumn weather and foliage.
As I saw my friends playing the guitar and singing and laughing away, I felt immense gratitude for being in such company…Happy, energetic, hopeful young people who had the whole world ahead of them. Vasya was their window to the world at that time. He had introduced them to several foreigners, all of whom had left Khabarovsk with the best of memories.
“Vassili from Khabarovsk” was a legend among travellers who undertook the journey from Moscow to Vladivostok. Just an overnight ride away from the terminal station of the Trans-Siberian Railway, Khabarovsk was a pleasant penultimate stop for those completing this epic voyage. Vasya was glad to host these travellers and know more about their countries. Hearing about him from a German traveller who visited me in Sakhalin in 2005, I sent him a message on Hospitality Club, an older and more pleasant version of Couchsurfing. In my message I had asked if we could meet for coffee or beer somewhere. He immediately responded and said I was more than welcome to stay with him in the city. Our special relationship began from that point. I’ll never forget the first thing he asked me when we met: “If you don’t mind, can you tell me where you’re from,” he asked with a bit of hesitation. “I looked at your photo and I saw a European face with dark skin. I was wondering if you were actually Indian.” I laughed and replied in the affirmative.
This autumn picnic was in total Vasya style. I was happy to be in such care-free company. After a day of shashlik (Russian kebabs), beer and music, we were all tired, but Vasya insisted that we go up to a hill in the city centre from where you get the best view of the Amur. We stood there looking at ferries and boats that went to Nikolayevsk-on-Amur, a town where the Amur empties out into the Tatar Strait. The river would freeze over in two months, making navigation impossible till late April. I looked up at the enormous full moon over the Amur, the same moon that was the subject of stories and legends of the indigenous peoples of the region. I thought of my teacher Tamara Vasilevna and gave her a call. I told her I was perfectly fine and having a great time with Vasya and company. The call calmed her down but she didn’t seem her usual self. Perhaps, she knew what was coming my way the next day.
September 22: Osenorechka, Khabarovsk territory: The plan was simple. Katya, Vasya and I would go on a trek to Mount Khektsir, which was in the wild taiga on the outskirts of the city. We’d look at the point where the Amur and Ussuri rivers split and Russia borders China, have a glass of wine and eat some chocolates and then head back down. I had a dinner invitation at Dima’s home that night. The hike to the peak, which was 950 metres above sea level was supposed to be relatively easy.
From an area close to the bank of the river we began the trek up the mountain. My friends warned me that this was a restricted area that was closed to people without permits since it was very close to the Russia-China border. I didn’t fancy the idea of breaking any laws, but my friends said we could slowly cross the forest checkpoint and sneak our way through. “Rules are always made to be broken,” Vasya said as we quietly crossed what looked like an unmanned checkpoint.
Oh the autumn colours! At this altitude there was almost as much red and orange as there was yellow. The yellow provided camouflage for the snow leopards, whereas the tigers could easily hide among the red and orange. We were indeed in some of the wildest and densest forests in the world. The weather was on our side. It stayed above 23 degrees Celsius and the jacket I was wearing seemed more of a nuisance than a help.
The views kept getting better as we climbed to the peak. I would love to write here that I thought of the early 20th century traveller, writer and explorer Vladimir Arsenyev, but the fact is he became one of my idols many years after this hike. There was an autumn nip in the otherwise warm day. From one point we could see the buildings and large cathedrals of Khabarovsk, and as we got higher, the Amur valley. A few hours after we began, Katya, Vasya and I were on top of Peak Khektsir. It was not our biggest achievement as hikers, but it always feels great to conquer a peak. From there we could see the splitting of the rivers and China. There were no people anywhere near the border of the world’s populous country.
We opened a nice bottle of Spanish wine and ate chocolates and some snacks that we carried from the city. I looked forward to an easy walk down and then dinner with Dima. I had an afternoon flight back to Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk the next day, so I expected this Saturday to pass off on in peace. I wasn’t that far off in my expectations, but as you will read, it wasn’t a peace I had bargained for.
And so we began the easy descent to Osenorechka. Going down a mountain is always easier, but Katya and Vasya, excited and probably a bit high from the wine, went down at a really fast pace. I was more in the mood to take in the nature and surroundings as I was leaving Russia in less than a fortnight. My friends were within my sight for a long time and then it happened- I slipped and fell thanks to untied shoe laces. The fall was soft and cushioned by fallen leaves, but that was the least of my worries. I couldn’t see my friends. We had lost each other. I was one of the wildest forests in the world, home to tigers, bears and leopards, and lost! I tried calling them on my cell phone but their phones were out of network coverage. I then called Dima and told him what happened and expressed my fears. Before we could talk further, the battery was dead.
I tried to remain calm and walk down the mountain towards the river. During the time Katya and Vasya searched for me to no avail. I knew I was off the main path to Osenorechka. Temperatures started to fall and the light began to fade. I figured I would walk as long as daylight allowed me and then I reached a point where it was too dark and dangerous to walk. I ended up getting my peace alright!
Unable to find me, Vasya and Katya rushed towards the forest check post for help. The guards were angry to know that we had entered these restricted lands. Their anger turned to fury when they heard that my friends had lost a foreigner there. The police were called, and then the Federal Security Service (FSB), the successor to the KGB.
Neither the police, nor the FSB believed the story they heard from Vasya and Katya. “You probably murdered the Indian and are now scared,” a FSB agent told them. Katya then showed them photos of us smiling and looking so happy. “How would be we even be able to kill such a person,” she asked and the officers finally accepted their version.
The border guards were informed, as was the mayor’s office and the main Khabarovsk police department. The authorities panicked. This was a foreigner who was lost, and that too from a friendly country. Too many people would be blamed if something happened. The news would go all the way to Moscow!
Midnight, September 23: Khektsir: Night had fallen and I had no idea when the clock struck midnight. I sat by a waterfall not knowing exactly what to do. I thought to myself- These 28 years of life weren’t so bad. So what if I ended up leaving this world as dinner for a tiger? At least I had travelled a lot and done a lot of things I had wanted to. I then began thinking of my mother, who lived alone in Bombay. Would life be cruel enough to her to take away her young son? My mind travelled far from the Trans-Siberian taiga to the town of Guruvayur in Kerala, home of the famous Guruvayur Sri Krishna Temple. I was never religious, but at that moment I wished I could just light a few oil lamps in the temple, which my family had prayed in for several centuries.
Besides leopards, tigers and bears there was also a danger of the frost getting to me. With a light t shirt and jacket as the only protection from the cold, I was in great danger of getting hypothermia. Since I was a non-smoker there was no question of me having a lighter to start a campfire.
The large full moon moved directly over the spot in the taiga where I was sitting. The same moon of the Evenk, Nanai and Nivkh folk tales. The original inhabitants of this land survived here for generations before the arrival of the Russians, without heating, gas, electricity and alcohol. That night I felt like I travelled back a few centuries.
I was left with no choice but to meditate under the full moon and seek any kind of guidance. I had given up on my friends or the authorities finding me until the morning. Then I heard the sound of wolves! Or I thought I did. Wolves have not been spotted in those areas for decades. Was it my imagination? Katya and Vasya also heard them on that night, which they spent near the forest check post.
They had asked friends for help and Katya’s future husband, a school teacher who taught children how to survive in the wild, was also there all night. They weren’t dating at that time, but this man, who is now very much like an elder brother to me spent all night trying to find me (then a total stranger) in the wild.
7 AM, Khektsir:
I somehow managed to fall asleep for a few hours. Vasalina, Dima and his family didn’t. His mother had prepared an elaborate dinner for their Indian guest, but this guest was lost in the taiga and no one in their home touched any food. Vasalina and Dima had filed a missing person’s complaint at the main police station in Khabarovsk, informing them about my call. The police officers were kinder to them than their counterparts were to Katya and Vasya in Osenorechka.
Through all this, I felt a sense of guilt. Why did I walk down so leisurely? Why wasn’t I more careful about my shoelaces? Why wasn’t my phone properly charged? I knew my friends would be worried sick about me. They would also get into a lot of trouble with the authorities.
To make matters worse, I was reminded of all the articles I edited about people getting lost in the taiga for days or weeks, or of those who were mauled to death by bears. Those stories no longer seemed as funny as they did when I was editing them in a newsroom.
Then another thought hit me. What if I had actually crossed over into China? All I had with me was a copy of my passport, visa and registration papers. There was no chance that the People’s Liberation Army soldiers would let me cross back into Russia! Would they jail and torture me?
The beautiful autumn morning light started to shine on the taiga and the sunlight on the waterfall made it look like a downward stream of pearls. Despite it being so cold, I bathed in the waterfall and decided to try and get out of the taiga. If I was still in Russia all I had to do was walk to my right to stay in the country.
The further I walked down, the warmer it became. The summer-like weather was coming back and I slowly gained confidence as I passed through the forests. Then I reached the forest check post. Conventional wisdom told me that the best thing to do was turn myself in there and let them call the police. However, the place was yet again empty!
I walked further down crossing all the beautiful places that I had seen a day earlier and suddenly I could hear cars. I was at river level! I walked out of the forest and to a road. I suddenly noticed two pairs of shocked eyes. It was a couple in their early 20s. They looked at me in the same astonished manner as people looked at a naked Arnold Schwarzenegger walking in Los Angeles in the film Terminator. The taiga had a habit of throwing out strange things, but an Indian?
I asked them calmly if they had a cell phone. I told them I needed to put my sim in it and call my friends. They told me they didn’t but said there was a settlement down the road and someone could help me. I began to walk in that direction, when I spotted a public bus headed for Khabarovsk. I signalled it down and hopped aboard. I was back in civilisation!
The conductor was a woman in her late 20s. After buying the ticket I told her what happened to me. She was so shocked that she first stared at me and then smiled. I then borrowed her cell phone and called Dima (as I saw his number first) to tell him I was fine and heading towards the Khabarovsk main bus station. The phone was flooded with messages. I then took off the sim and returned it to the conductor.
Within a few minutes, a police jeep stopped the bus. “What do they want? Chocolate,” the conductor said out loud. I saw Katya and Vasya getting off the jeep and I felt an enormous sense of relief. I jumped and hugged them. “Katya, I’m sorry I got lost,” I said. “You, sorry???” “We should be the ones apologising,” she said as she held me very tightly. Her hug felt mild compared to Vasya’s!
“Respected Citizen Ajay Kamalakaran, we are happy to make your acquaintance,” a policeman said. The group of four policemen were very nice to me and took me straight to the Osenorechka station. They were relieved that I was alive and unharmed.
10 AM, Osenorechka Police Station: The important-looking middle-aged man with a moustache was in a black suit. I assumed he was some important official. “Young man, do you realise what could have happened,” he said to me. “Forget about the fact that those areas are off limits, your life was at stake.” The gentleman was the head of the Khabarovsk Police Department. He had come all the way from the city to handle this matter. “It could have even caused a diplomatic incident. You know that Russia and India enjoy warm and friendly relations,” he said. I smiled sincerely enough to get him to smile back and break into a more friendly tone. “Please follow the protocols here and then you can leave,” he said as he walked out. Before getting into his car, he had a word with a television reporter who was waiting outside.
With the main boss gone, the officers were more relaxed. One policeman who looked like an American soap opera actor played tough cop, while another was a lot friendlier. The protocols were done in about half an hour, with me giving a sworn statement that I was not a victim of any crime and that I took full responsibility for my actions and had no complaints against anyone. Then came another plainclothes policeman who angrily said, “they are criminals, arrest them!” But here, both the tough and friendly cop laughed and waved us out.
Outside I saw Uncle Sasha, Katya’s father who came in his car to take us home. After seeing I was perfectly fine, he said I really managed to make waves in Khabarovsk in such a short time. Before we entered the car, the reporter wanted me to speak on camera. While Katya and Vasya asked me not to, being a journalist, I wasn’t going to snub a colleague. I spoke with a smile about how it was romantic in the taiga under the moonlight and how I meditated. The reporter actually corrected my Russian grammar!!! I ended the interview with an English “all’s well that end well,” which she translated. This small clip made national news and came on Russia’s state-run NTV channel.
Sitting in the back seat of Katya’s car, I was relieved to be on my way back to the city. I still had enough time to go home, take a shower, eat a warm meal and then make my flight back to Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk. Just when thoughts of how pretty Katya was ran through my mind, her phone rang. It was an officer from the FSB, asking to see me at the airport before I flew to Sakhalin. Suddenly all those scenes from James Bond films and scary pages from spy novels about the KGB came to my mind. “What if they thought I was an American spy in a restricted zone,” I thought to myself. When I shared these thoughts, Katya, Vasya and her father laughed it off. “You weren’t scared of Amur tigers and these guys scare you,” Vasya said.
1 PM, Khabarovsk Airport: As soon as we reached the airport I went with Katya and Vasalina, who was waiting for us at the airport with Dima, to the FSB officer’s cabin. I had a feeling I was in deep trouble, but I tried to play the role of a fanboy. “Oh, this is so amazing! A real FSB officer,” I said with a smile, as the young man looked at me with almost a sense of bewilderment. “Look, young man, I just want to be sure that you did not face any danger from anyone and have no complaints,” he said. I smiled and said I was fine and that I appreciated how Russian state organs were all ready to help a simple man like me, and were so concerned about my well being. He laughed and said that such incidents don’t happen every day. “Stay out of trouble,” he told me, as we shook hands and I left the room.
“What was that,” Vasalina asked. “I wanted to make him think I was in awe of him,” I replied. She laughed and said she was pretty sure he didn’t buy any of it. “Your smile did work,” she said.
The experience was over. There I stood near the checkin counter with Vasya, Katya, Dima and Vasalina. This was one weekend that none of us would ever forget.
As the AN-24 flew low over Khabarovsk and onwards to Sakhalin, I thought I had left this experience behind me, but within two days just about every single person I knew in Russia said they had seen me on TV and that I was some kind of hero. In Sakhalin, I slowly began calling back people who tried to call me on that fateful night. There was a landline number that I did not recognise, but called back. “Federal Security Service,” the man said at the other end. In the most timid manner, I asked if he or his colleagues had called me. “No, you’re mistaken,” he said. I hung up the phone in relief.
A few days later, the publisher of the paper I had worked for four years told me that a local FSB agent called and asked him what the hell I was doing in one of the most secret parts of Russia. “You know that guy. He always manages to find trouble,” my ex-boss joked and told him.
That really was the end of it, but I did feel uneasy for a few days, and the whole trauma of the experience was buried somewhere inside me for 15 years. As I wrote this essay, my hands and legs shook the same way they did a few days after the experience was over.
September 23, 2007 was when I was born again, when I started my second innings in life. Nothing that has happened to me in these 15 years, no matter how stressful, can ever come close to that night in the taiga.
