Kang Yatse II (6,250 m) & Dzo Jongo East (6,220 m) - Twin 6K meters summits:

At the outset, I start with pranams to Sringeri Jagadguru  Sannidhanams  His Holiness Jagadguru Sankaracharya  Sri Sri Sri Bharathi Theertha Mahaswamigal and Jagadguru Sankaracharya His holiness Sri Sri Sri Vidhu Shekhara Bharathi swamigal  of Sringeri Saradha Peetham for everyone’s welfare & continued prosperity.

yā te rudra śivā tanūr aghorā'pāpakāśinī |

tayā nas tanuvā śantamayā giriśantābhicākaśīhi ||

"O Rudra! Reveal to us Your serene and auspicious form. O Dweller of the Mountains, look upon us with grace."

Standing amidst the timeless silence of the Markha Valley, with the snow-clad face of Kang Yatse II slowly emerging through drifting clouds, this prayer from the Śrī Rudram found a profound meaning. For a fleeting moment, the mountains ceased to be summits waiting to be climbed; they became a divine sanctuary where every ridge, every glacier and every gust of icy wind whispered the presence of Lord Shiva.

Conquering a mountain is perhaps the greatest myth ever told. We are merely blessed with the opportunity to stand in its sacred presence.

Nature has always been my greatest teacher.

The Humble Bee has neither fear nor competition

Among its countless lessons, one has remained with me through every expedition—the humble bee. The bee has neither fear nor competition. It never doubts its wings, nor worries who may take away its honey. It simply continues to fly, flower after flower, believing in Nature's abundance and in the quiet strength of its own wings.

Every mountain I have climbed has reaffirmed this timeless truth. Summits are rarely earned by the strongest or the fastest; they belong to those who quietly trust themselves, remain steadfast through uncertainty, and keep moving forward with unwavering faith.

Little did I know that the Himalayas were about to test that belief more profoundly than ever before.

Shanthi Stupa - Leh

Mahaparinirvana Buddha

The journey begins

Two days in Leh were devoted entirely to acclimatization. At over 11,500 feet, acclimatization is not merely a physiological necessity—it is where Patience introduces itself, long before the mountains do. The Himalayas have never rewarded haste.

Our day of rest led us to the serene Shanti Stupa, overlooking Leh in tranquil silence. There, one beholds the majestic Mahāparinirvāṇa Buddha resting in eternal peace—not as a symbol of mortal silence, but as the complete liberation from suffering, attachment and the endless cycle of birth and rebirth.

"The mountains teach us to climb higher; the Buddha teaches us to let go. Somewhere between the two we begin to understand liberation from bondage—and therein lies true freedom."

Standing before the Mahāparinirvāṇa Buddha, I realised that every expedition is, in many ways, an exercise in letting go—of fear, ego, expectations and certainty. Physical strength may carry us upwards, but inner stillness carries us much farther.

River crossings - Swollen by relentless rains

Ruins of Hankar fort

Into the Heart of the Markha Valley

Leaving Leh behind, our expedition gradually unfolded through Sara, Markha, Thachungtse, and eventually to Kang Yatse II Base Camp. With every passing day, civilisation quietly receded while the Himalayas asserted their timeless authority.

Along the trail stood the weathered remains of Hankar Fort, a silent sentinel overlooking the valley. Once a strategic outpost guarding sections of the ancient Silk Route, it watched over caravans carrying silk, salt, pashmina wool and precious stones between Ladakh, Tibet and Central Asia. Today, its crumbling walls remind us that kingdoms inevitably surrender to time, while the mountains remain eternal.

River crossings became daily reminders of humility. Swollen by relentless rain and glacial melt, the streams were in full spate, transforming seemingly ordinary crossings into treacherous passages where every step demanded complete concentration. Prayer flags fluttered endlessly across the valley, carrying the timeless chant:

Lush green of Markha Valley

Guru Padmasambhava

Om Mani Padme Hum

Closely associated with Guru Padmasambhava, the revered master who established Vajrayāna Buddhism across the Himalayas, the mantra seemed to dissolve effortlessly into the mountain wind itself. Whether whispered by pilgrims or carried across lonely passes, it imbued the entire valley with a quiet spirituality that words could scarcely describe.

When Nature Takes Charge......

By the time we reached Kang Yatse II Base Camp, the mountains had begun writing their own story.

Relentless rain battered our tents while fierce winds howled relentlessly through camp, threatening to deracinate not merely our shelters but also our carefully nurtured hopes of a summit. What had appeared to be a promising weather window now stood on the brink of complete omnishambles.

Every conversation inevitably returned to one simple question.

Would the mountain permit us to climb?

There comes a moment on every expedition when one experiences anagnorisis—the sudden realisation that we are insignificant before the forces of nature. Mountains neither negotiate nor compromise. They simply exist, utterly indifferent to our ambitions.

Several expedition teams waited together at Base Camp, staring aimlessly at the same indifferent sky. The clouds concealed far more than they revealed. The Stoicism reflected on every face spoke louder than words. We had trained. We had prepared. We had travelled thousands of kilometres.

Now everything belonged to the mountain. As we stood before those colossal walls of snow and stone, another thought quietly emerged.

Kany Yatse peak 1 and Kany Yatse Peak 2

Were the mountains asking us to become less eloquent and more silent? Perhaps some truths are simply too profound for language. Perhaps the Himalayas were teaching us that reverence is expressed not through words, but through silence. In that silence lay the quiet wisdom of Amor Fati—to love not merely the summit, but the uncertainty, the storm, the waiting, and the mountain exactly as it chose to reveal itself.

Team @ Kang Yatse II summit

Our team @ Kang Yatse Base camp

Summit Push — Kang Yatse II

At 1:00 AM, beneath a moonless Himalayan sky, we stepped out of Base Camp.

The biting cold welcomed us immediately. Every breath became precious. Every step demanded greater effort than the last. Ice axes, crampons and rope teams became extensions of ourselves as we steadily climbed through darkness towards dawn.

Hours later, after negotiating steep snow slopes and exposed sections, we stood atop Kang Yatse II (6,250 metres) at 10:39 AM.

There were no triumphant roars. Only gratitude and silence. The very silence we had encountered at Base Camp. There is a tendency to believe that summits are destinations and the Himalayas quietly correct that illusion.

Every summit is merely another point from which one sees farther—both across the mountains and within oneself

Safety Before Summit

Our Chief Guide, a seasoned Ladakhi mountaineer and among the finest professionals I have climbed with, shared a simple mantra that perfectly captures Himalayan mountaineering.

"Anyone can take you to the summit. You pay me for bringing you safely back to Base Camp."

Those words proved prophetic.

As the morning sun softened the snowpack, firm ice rapidly transformed into deep, unconsolidated snow. During our descent, I suddenly plunged nearly four feet into soft snow and became completely immobilised.

For nearly fifteen minutes, movement was impossible.

The instinct is always to rush towards someone in difficulty. Yet on a glacier, haste can be dangerous. Members of a rope team survive through discipline rather than impulse. Following calm, step-by-step instructions from our guide, I slowly extricated myself using my ice axe, carefully redistributing my weight until I was free. Had others rushed forward, the fragile snow bridge might easily have collapsed further.

Mountaineering has never been about taking risks. It is about managing them wisely.

Team @ Dzo Jongo base camp

Forty-Four Hours and Thirty Minutes

Most climbers would have celebrated, but we packed.

The next day we were on our way to Dzo Jongo Base Camp, preparing for another summit.

From standing atop Kang Yatse II to standing atop Dzo Jongo East, only forty-four hours and thirty minutes would pass.

The number itself is not what makes the achievement memorable and what those forty-four and a half hours demanded were.

Endurance, Discipline, Patience, Humility.

Complete trust in the mountains—and in one another.

Team @ Dzo Jongo summit

Dzo Jongo summit

The approach to Dzo Jongo East is often underestimated. It deserves much greater respect. Its challenges are every bit as demanding as Kang Yatse II, particularly when attempted immediately after another 6,000-metre summit.

At 10:30 PM, we once again disappeared into the Himalayan darkness from Dzo Jongo basecamp. The wind had become colder. Every sinew had already been tested, stretched and asked for maximum accommodation.

Yet the mind remained quietly resolute. At 07:19 AM, the next day we stood atop Dzo Jongo East (6,220 metres).

Two summits - The twin Himalayan giants.

Summit to summit—Forty-Four Hours and Thirty Minutes.

Preparation Meets Opportunity

People often congratulate the summit and few witness the months that quietly built it. This journey had begun nearly eight months earlier. It was shaped through endurance runs, repeated climbs of the Nandi Hills steps carrying a loaded backpack, long strength sessions, yoga for flexibility and balance, demanding treks including Kilimanjaro, Gaumukh–Tapovan and Kumara Parvatha, and countless disciplined choices made long before setting foot in Ladakh.

As Seneca wisely observed,

"Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity."

The Himalayas merely presented the opportunity and preparation had already done the rest.

Gratitude

A heartfelt thank you to the exceptional teams at Boots & Crampons and Trek Nomads, whose planning and execution were flawless from beginning to end. My sincere gratitude to our Trek Leader Skalzang Rigzin, whose unwavering commitment to safety inspired complete confidence throughout the expedition.

His philosophy remains one of the finest lessons I have learnt in the mountains: "Anyone can take you to the summit. You pay me for bringing you safely back to Base Camp."

My heartfelt thanks also to Romil Barthwal, whose encouragement and mental preparation gave me the confidence to attempt Dzo Jongo instead of stopping after Kang Yatse II.

Success in the mountains is never an individual achievement. It is always shared. Countless well wishers and family pray for your success and safe return!!

A proud moment

Walking Home

after the successful summits, crossing Kongmaru La (5,200 metres) on our return towards Chokdo, the towering peaks gradually disappeared behind us. Yet something within refused to leave.

There is a beautiful Greek word—Pleroma—meaning fullness, a state where nothing more is needed.

Somewhere between the chanting of Om Mani Padme Hum, the serenity of the Mahāparinirvāṇa Buddha, the prayer of the Śrī Rudram, the silence of Kang Yatse and the fierce winds of Dzo Jongo, I experienced a fleeting glimpse of that fullness. 

The pulchritude of the Himalayas cannot truly be captured by photographs, it can only be experienced.

Like Odysseus, one eventually discovers that every outward journey is, in truth, a journey home—to a quieter, humbler version of oneself.

The bee never stopped believing in its wings, The Buddha reminded us to let go, Lord Shiva revealed His serene presence amidst the mountains.

The Himalayas asked only for humility and perhaps that was the real expedition all along.

As I packed away my boots, one question quietly echoed through my mind.

Is this where the journey ends?

Or...

Is this simply another beginning?

Only time—and the mountains—will answer and i could hear their whispers!!

All human wisdom is contained in these two words, 'wait and hope'

for the mountain does not ask whether you are worthy of its summit. It asks whether you are humble enough to receive its grace.

Kilimanjaro Summited (5,895 meters) - Tanzania

Kilimanjaro Summit - An Unassuming Beginning 

At the outset, I start with pranams to Sringeri Jagadguru  Sannidhanams  His Holiness Jagadguru Sankaracharya  Sri Sri Sri Bharathi Theertha Mahaswamigal and  Jagadguru Sankaracharya His holiness Sri Sri Sri Vidhu Shekhara Bharathi swamigal  of Sringeri Saradha Peetham for everyone’s welfare & continued prosperity.

The mountains taught us that the journey itself holds the most profound rewards—and sometimes, if you are patient, prepared, and humble enough, the mountains gift you the summit. Kilimanjaro was not merely a climb; it was a slow, deliberate shedding of comfort, ego, and certainty. What remained was resolve.

Not long ago, I turned back 400 meters short of the Mera Peak summit—not as a defeat, but as an unfinished conversation with the mountains. A combination of factors made that the right decision then. I carried that moment quietly, allowing it to shape me. From that slip, I returned with silence in the mind and a steady, burning desire to stand on a summit again. This time, missing the summit was not an option.

Kilimanjaro became that reckoning.

From the very first steps, the mountain revealed its pulchritude—not merely in form, but in the way it demanded patience, humility, and presence. The journey itself was layered with meaning, reminding us that while summits are gifted, they are never owed.

The Team and the Leader

Our terkking team and Support Staff

Every expedition is defined by its people, and ours was anchored by exceptional leadership. Our trek leader, Lt Col Romil Bhartwal, made one thing unequivocally clear:

"not summiting is not an option, and no one would be left behind"
"Your only goal is Summit, rest leave it to me" .

These were not words spoken lightly. They became the moral compass of the expedition. True to his soldierly spirit, he ensured that every member of the team moved forward with confidence and returned stronger—together. Romil sir is person of fine mettle who has adorned the uniform with distinction and leader truly worth his salt.

With the Rain in Rain forests

Thick and lush rain forests

The early days took us through dense rain forests, where the mountain felt alive and watchful. Rain fell steadily, turning the trail into slushy, muddy terrain that tested balance, patience, and endurance. Each step through roots, sludge, and slick ground demanded attention, reminding us to be watchful.In that persistent rain, character revealed itself quietly, and resolve was shaped long before the summit came into view.

Like the raven—intelligent, playful, and resilient
joy finds its way even in the harshest landscapes.

Like the raven—intelligent, playful, and resilient—we learned to find joy even as the mountain tested us. Amid slush, rain, wind, and uncertainty, there were moments of quiet laughter and lightness that reminded us why we climb. Joy, like the raven in the highlands, does not wait for comfort; it appears when resilience and presence walk together.

Landscape is rich in Flora

Cathedral–Shira Detour and Barranco Wall

Cathedral Point

On Day 3, the trek leader introduced a deliberate challenge. Three of us were tasked to take a detour via Cathedral Point toward Shira Point, complete the ascent, and return to rejoin the main team—on time. It was a test of navigation, pacing, and discipline at altitude. We followed the instructions precisely, embraced the detour, absorbed the terrain, and completed the loop as planned. When we regrouped with the rest of the team, it felt less like a task completed and more like quiet confirmation that intent, when aligned with effort, always finds its way back.

Barranco Wall

Scaling the Barranco Wall

The Barranco Wall tested our composure early—steep, exposed, and mentally demanding. It required trust in movement, technique, and each other. Hands searched for rock, boots found narrow holds, and the mountain demanded complete attention. Fear had to be acknowledged rather than resisted, and progress came only when focus replaced hesitation. It was a lesson in presence—one move at a time, fully committed.

Summit Night : One Team one Dream

The Summit - We started by 11:00 PM.

The climb was slow steady and measured. Between 3:30 AM and first light at 5:30 AM, Kilimanjaro revealed her fiercest temperament. There was a snow blizard, the biting cold, and gusty winds tested every layer of resolve. There were moments when I slipped in the snow, struggling to find footing and regain composure.

First light & First sight of Summit - From Stella Point

In the darkness, the guide’s steady voice repeated “Pole pole” in Swahilli—(menaing slowly, slowly) along with a reminder that cut through the storm: one team, one dream.

Team @ Summit

In those fragile moments, memory became strength. My thoughts returned to conversations with the Sringeri Jagadguru Acharyals, the reverberation of Shivaratri Rudram at our Kailasanathar temple, and the many ultra-marathon journeys shared with my running mates: disciplined, playful, and relentless. The mind returned to  my endurance whcih stood as a foundational rock: I repeated to myself "this path is not for the weak of will"

Uhuru in Swahilli means FREEDOM

Step by step, breath by breath, the mountain opened up and embraced us in her lap and took us to summit.

Beyond Sight : Climbing with Angmo

With Angmo and Lt Col Romil @ summit

An Inspiring piece. 

Beyond Sight with Angmo,( 1st Indian Visually challenged woman to climb Mount Everest:) 

A Journey to the Top of the World

​

I had the opportunity to summit Kilimanjaro with Ms Angmo from Himachal who is 100% visually impaired. They say "seeing is believing," but my fellow climber  has spent her life proving that believing is seeing.  As the first and only visually challenged woman to summit Mt. Everest, she has already redefined what is possible. Angmo has also done Mt Elbrus in Russia. Now, after our successful climb of Kilimanjaro, she continues her relentless pursuit of the Seven Summits. By day, she serves with excellence at Union Bank; by heart, she is a conqueror of horizons. 

Watching her summit with such grace, it was clear that her mind is more than ready for the world’s highest peaks. She reminds us that while "eyes see obstacles, the spirit sees the summit". It was a profound honor to stand on the roof of Africa with a woman who is redefining the art of possibilities 

The only barriers to success are the ones we set ourselves. Salute to her unwavering and conquering spirit 

What the mountain leaves behind

At the summit, wrapped in wind, snow, and silence, an ancient truth felt unmistakably alive:

माता भूमिः पुत्रोऽहं पृथिव्याः

Earth is my mother; I am her child.

Kilimanjaro did not need to be conquered—She has to be respected. The mountain tested patience, rewarded humility, and finally allowed us to stand at her highest point.

Kilimanjaro peak - we bowed in reverence and took leave of her!

Gratitude and New Beginnings

No summit is ever solitary. I carry deep gratitude for my family and closest friends, who stood beside this journey with prayers, belief, and quiet strength. Their camaraderie, trust, and constant presence became an unseen rope line—steady, reassuring, and always there when it mattered most.

These new beginnings arrive gently. They are not loud or demanding; they reveal themselves in moments of calm, in unspoken understanding, and in the comfort of knowing one is not walking alone. There is strength in that closeness, and reassurance in shared silence.

Moving forward with them, the path ahead feels clearer and kinder. Each step carries purpose, each pause carries meaning, and every beginning feels grounded, shared, and worth embracing.

A humble feeling