How I Summited 4,200m with a Broken Shoe
- Harshita Keswani
- Aug 13
- 4 min read
In August 2024, my husband whom I fondly refer to as VT, and I decided to take on the treacherous Kashmir Great Lakes (KGL) trek, a 7-day adventure we weren’t fully prepared for. With little idea what lay ahead, we set off from Sonmarg to Nichnai, excited but clueless. Halfway through day 1, it started raining.
Now if you’ve ever been on a Himalayan trek during the monsoons, you know that’s when the real trouble begins. A picturesque path takes minutes to turn into a deadly obstacle. And that’s exactly what happened. The trails started to turn slippery, visibility reduced and of course there was this looming threat of flash floods. But what we didn’t know yet was that this was just the beginning.
We had only started ascending the mountains, when the sole of my trekking shoe started coming off. A brand-new pair that I had only worn once before — GONE! With no network, no extra shoes, and limited resources, we had no idea what to do.
That’s when we met Ashfaq bhai, a tall Kashmiri man, his presence as steady as the mountains around us. With a glint in his eye, he came up a ‘jugaadu’, resourceful idea of tying my shoe with a string, the very same thread that binds Maggi cartons together. In his hands, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He moved with such ease, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. And just like that, our worries were stitched together and we were ready for Day 1.
But on day 2, the same thing happened again. And by day 3, both my soles were completely off. On day 3, we had to summit and on the descend, I had to stop every 200–300 meters to tie them back. I was laughing to myself and kept wondering “what the hell is going on?!”. It got so funny that everyone on the trail knew about — ‘The girl with the broken shoes’. It had turned into a whole trekking soap opera! At one point, I gave up and walked the last 5 km in my trek leader’s Crocs, which were double my size. For your reference, my size is 4 and these crocs were size 8. Imagine walking in shoes twice your size on a steep trail. What a crazy adventure we were going through!
But surprisingly, VT and I were calmer than usual. So when my shoe broke for the nth time, he asked me, “What next?” I smiled and replied, “Dekhte hain, kuch work out ho jayega.” And while I had no idea how or what would work out, I had a strong feeling that something would, because life, much like trekking, always throws unexpected challenges your way.
And then, just as I was on the brink of giving up, one of my strongest beliefs took form — “wherever you go, people are usually kind.” It’s a lesson I’ve learned through countless travels, across borders and through the hearts of strangers from every corner of the world. Time and again, in the most unexpected places, I am gently reminded of this truth. And so, the universe sent help.
A lady passed by as I sat fixing my shoe for the umpteenth time. She stopped and said, “My name is Jayanti, I’m with the Sinbad group. Find me at the campsite, I have an extra pair of size 5.5 sports shoes.” Now, my size is 4. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. “Kuch manage kar lenge”, I thought. A little cotton, a little adjustment, some ‘jugaad’ — just enough to keep me going. Later, I finally reached her campsite and slipped my feet into her shoes. And they fit PERFECTLY, as if they were meant for me all along. No cotton, no ‘jugaad’.
What were the odds? That in the vastness of the mountains, on a trail where I was but a speck, the universe had placed someone with exactly what I needed? And the kindness didn’t stop there…
A local Kashmiri man saw my broken shoes and ran to his small ‘pahadi’ home, returning with a needle and thread to help me stitch my shoe. When we offered him money, he refused to take any. He just smiled and said — “Bas aapka kaam ho jana chahiye.”
No transaction. No expectation. Just pure, unshaken goodwill. It was as if life, in its quiet grace, had whispered that sometimes, when you expect the least, magic happens. That rare moment when you realize the world doesn’t owe you anything, yet it gifts you something far more precious — an unexpected kindness that restores your faith. It makes you believe, again and again, that despite everything, the universe has a way of surprising you when you need it most.
It is, in moments like these, when one realizes that maybe a civilization isn’t about tall towers or bustling streets but the hearts of people. It walks beside you in the kindness of strangers. It finds you, even in the loneliest corners of the world. And perhaps, just perhaps, the universe is always listening, ready to offer a reminder that magic is real, if only you believe. Because as Roald Dahl says, “those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”
Comments