On How I Watched the 2012 Wimbledon Men’s Final

I watched the most remarkable Grand Slam final of my life on the 8^th of July 2012. The reason why I shall never forget that particular tennis match is not because it was Roger Federer’s (who is one of my favourite sportspersons) seventeenth Grand Slam title. Nor was it because of Andy Murray’s valiant effort. I am no fan of British tennis and the sight of Andy Murray shedding tears on the Centre Court failed to move me even one bit. The quality of tennis was certainly below par, especially when compared to the standards set by the Swiss himself along with an elegant left-hander from Spain. In fact, for me, the most remarkable feature of the match was not about the match at all. What will be etched in my memory forever is the fact that I watched the final of Wimbledon 2012 at 14000 feet above sea-level, in perhaps one of the remotest corners of our country, at a border-post of the Indo-Tibetan Border Police (ITBP), a stone’s throw away from the Tibetan border.

Sand dunes at Hunder

  

Wimbledon 2012 began on the 25^th of June and I (along with my mother and two of her friends) left for Leh on the 30^th, convinced that Rafael Nadal’s defeat to Lukas Rosol of the Czech Republic was the last piece of Wimbledon action that I would get to witness that year. My fears were proved right when we realised that Leh faces a severe power crisis.  During the few hours when electricity was available, it became clear that the management of our hotel (where majority of the tourists appeared to be devout Ekta Kapoor fans) had not bothered to subscribe Star Sports. And as we hardly ever visited the Internet Cafes that dot the streets of Leh, our main source of Wimbledon related news was a day-old edition of the Times of India. 

Tso Kar

The next few days were spent criss-crossing Ladakh; from Turtuk in Shyok Valley in the north to Tso Moriri (Tso is the Ladakhi word for a lake) in the south.  The high points of these journeys were (quite literally) the mountain passes that we encountered (namely, Khardung La- 18380 ft, Tanglang La- 17582 ft) which are quite efficiently maintained by the Border Roads Organisation in extremely inhospitable conditions. The lush green grass of the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club was no match for the splendour that was on display. The sand dunes at Hunder (Nubra Valley), the pristine waters of Tso Moriri and Tso Kar and not to mention the drive through unimaginable landscapes left no place in our minds for thoughts about Wimbledon. In fact, I did not spare a thought for Wimbledon until the 8^th of July when we reached Chumur near the trisection of Ladakh, Himachal Pradesh and Tibet. 

Gya Massif from Korzok

We were visiting Chumur as guests of the Indo-Tibetan Border Police (ITBP)- a paramilitary force which, as the name suggests, is responsible for patrolling the sensitive border with China. Our accommodation had been arranged at their border-post at Chumur around 15 kilometres from the border. After a breathtaking drive from a village called Korzok, mostly along Tso Moriri, which included an exciting period of 30 minutes in which our vehicle got stuck in sand, we reached Chumur at lunch hour. After being greeted warmly by the Commanding Officer and many other soldiers, we were led to a white fibre-glass structure which bore the plate “Officers’ Hut/ VIP Hut” which was where we were supposed to stay. The rooms were surprisingly comfortable and we were a little embarrassed to be availing facilities which were certainly not given to ordinary soldiers manning the post. After all, you don’t expect attached toilets and Tata Sky DTH television in a paramilitary camp in the middle of nowhere. A wholesome meal had been arranged for us for lunch.

Gya Massif

At the entrance of the camp, very next to the flagstaff, such that no visitor could possibly miss it, stood a memorial dedicated to a mountaineer who had died while attempting to climb a peak called Gya (which is visible from the camp). Despite being almost eleven years old, it was spotlessly clean and remarkably well-maintained and looked truly magnificent with the peaks of the Gya massif in the background. As we learned, the mountaineer has become an inspirational figure to the soldiers posted there and no task is undertaken before saluting the memorial. I found it incomprehensible that a group of people were striving to keep the memory of a total stranger alive. In the afternoon, we too paid our respects.

We spent the evening visiting the village of Chumur, where like any other Ladakhi village, the monastery is the dominating building. The Chumur Monastery, as we were informed, has the mummified remains of a distinguished Lama whose hair is supposed to grow magically. Every year the present-day incarnation of the Lama comes to Chumur all the way from the United States to give the mummy a hair-cut! We were all eager to have a look at the mummy, but it was conveniently located in a particularly dark corner of a dimly-lit room which only the monastery-staff are allowed to enter.

Chumur Monastery

When we returned to the camp, a volleyball match between the ITBP and the Army (which maintains a small contingent there) had just concluded and darkness was setting in. Generators were turned on. As it was Sunday, the mood in the camp was quite relaxed. Apparently, there was less work on Sundays. The train of my thoughts was suddenly interrupted by something that had always been there at the back of my mind throughout the trip. If it was Sunday and if I had access to a television set that could display happenings in England via a satellite then-

I ran into our room; the television set had already been tuned to Channel 405 on Tata Sky. I have never been more pleased to hear the voices of Allan Wilkins and Vijay Amritraj.