Chapter 11
As Mary Joe ran a few steps down the snow slope and flung herself off into the dark abyss that seemed to yawn under her, she felt the force of the buffeting wind lift the glider. She was airborne, the take-off had gone without a hitch, but there was a problem. The wind was blowing from, the wrong direction. It was likely to blow her back over the mountains whence she had come. The glider was rising rapidly on the onrushing gale and already she was far over the peak whence she had taken off.
"If it goes on like this, I might soon find myself back in the camp, with the Colonel grinning away behind his moustaches. Damn!" Mary Joe said to herself. "Sanggyela Kyabsu Chio, -I seek. refuge in the Buddha -come on Lord Buddha, turn this wind back, I have a monk with me. Now is the time to show your power."
She pressed down on the nose of the glider and turned up the flaps, so as to lose height. At the same time miraculously, the wind slackened. The glider headed out towards the north- west in a slow descent. They were finally moving towards Tibet.
Down she went, but due the great altitude from which she had taken off and the extra height she had gained initially, the ground was a long way off yet. The cold wind brushed past her face, it was like the prow of a ship cutting through calm waters. The stars were out, big and bright, like points of fire in the night. But their light was too faint to see any features on the ground.
She wondered where she would land. In the middle of a Chinese army outpost perhaps, or on top of a rocky outcrop where there was not even enough space to stand. They had chosen a moonlit night for their flight but the Colonel had cut things too fine. He had so timed their take off that the moon would be just out when they landed. If they landed too soon, there wouldn't be any moon and they would have to risk landing in the dark. If they were airborne too long, the light of the moon might enable some one on the ground to see them as they hung aloft. All very nice in theory. But pretty scary in practice. It looked good on paper. But boy! doing it one self was another matter. Come on moon, come out and show your face you bashful maiden, with wild fire laden. And where was Lobsang. Not blown back over the mountains. She hoped not.
But the moon had risen. Its silvery radiance lit up the stark landscape. She saw the ground rushing up to meet her. She was going to land on, a piece of flat ground, a grassy field actually. After all her fears, the landing proved to be easy. And there was Lobsang, hanging up in the air like a big black bird.
She ran up and hugged him as he landed not far from her. "Lobsang"
"Mai Hoe."
"Thank the Lord. We are safe and in Tibet."
Lobsang knelt down, kissed the earth and said a brief prayer.
"What do we do now?" asked Mary Joe.
"First we destroy the gliders, as the Colonel had said."
They debated on the best method of disposing off the gliders. Burning them would mean a great bonfire that would be visible for miles and attract unwelcome attention. Burying them would require long hours of hard digging. They dismantled the gliders, the fibre glass tubing telescoped into a single rod. The wings were rolled up into a small ball of fabric. They decided that they would carry the ball of fabric with them and leave the fibre glass tubing behind. The tubing was placed behind a big rock and concealed with stones, so as to invisible to any casual onlooker.
"Let us now have our dinner, Mai Hoe."
They took out the packet of dried up meat, chppaties, and dry fruits that they had brought with them. Mary Joe also carried a few bars of her favourite chocolate. The last she had left.
"Now what."
"Now we look for a drokpa's tent to sleep."
"What if we don't find any."
"Then we sleep out in the open."
"Out in the open, we will freeze to our death man."
"No, we won't, this is summer in Tibet and the drokpa sleep out any way. Many of them sleep out even in the winter."
So they set forth. But sign of human habitation there was none, in the all enveloping darkness, now lit up by the light of the moon. They climbed a small knoll to look around, but all they saw was an unbroken wilderness, unrelieved by any point of light that could signify the presence of man.
"Its no use, we will have to sleep out in the open, as you said Lobsang."
They found a sheltered spot, in the lee of the knoll that protected them from the furious wind. Here they spread-the canvas taken from the glider on the ground and lay down on it. The other canvas they used as a blanket. Mary Joe snuggled close to Lobsang. It was the only way to keep warm.
"Lobsang, I hope you don't mind."
''Mind what?"
''Why, my sleeping with you, you being a monk and all that."
''Go to sleep Mai Hoe."
"I will, if only I can get warm. Press close to me dammit! forget your pious scruples man!. There that's better. Now I hope I can get some sleep."
As a matter of fact, Lobsang was struggling with a wild surge of conflicting emotions. He was a monk, under a vow of celibacy, to whom even the thought of women was sinful. Yet here he was, alone with an attractive female. To make matters worse, they were sleeping together, their bodies touching each other. He was human after all. How could he be indifferent to Mary Joe's proximity. He knew she was young and beautiful. He felt her attraction, felt it all too powerfully. Yet he must not give way to a momentary weakness. They had a great task to accomplish and everything else must be pushed out for the moment. This thought gave him strength and overmastering the surge of emotion he attained some sort of peace and felt into an uneasy doze.
They were up before dawn as usual, but now there was no butter tea to refresh them on waking. They had to eat their breakfast and set out as soon as they could, on their onward journey. Mary Joe was already dressed in a chuba with a silk apron and a serge tunic such as those worn by nomad women. She wore a quantity of coral, amber and turquoise necklaces to complete her disguise. Round her neck, stung on one of the necklaces was her charm box. The nomads often wear this around their neck and carry some sacred relic in it.
"You look perfect Mai Hoe. Just like a drokpa woman. No one will think you are an American."
"No, remember I am your sister and we are on a pilgrimage. So though I may be only a drokpa woman, I am also a monk's sister, and therefore entitled to some respect."
"Sure, I have a lot of respect for you, sister."
They climbed the knoll again to take stock of their surroundings. The sun was just coming up over the far horizon, lighting up the peaks to their right. Far to the right was a snow capped peak that must have been at least twenty thousand feet high. It stood a little apart from the mountain chain of which it was obviously a part. Alongside it were other peaks, a whole chain of them in fact. Far to the left was another peak, of almost similar height, but standing alone. In front stretched the bare brown plain of Tibet, broken up with rounded whale-back hills, bereft of all vegetation. Sign of human habitation there was none, but on the vast plain in front of them at the very extremity, next to the far horizon, they could discern black spots that moved occasionally.
"Look, Mai Hoe, Yak."
They were looking at a large heard of Yak, feeding on the steppe. "Whereabouts are we, Lobsang."
"We are probably fifty to seventy miles west of Gartok.''
"Ah, then the mountains that we see to our right are the so called Trans-Himalayas, and the peak on our left, is one of the outlying spurs of the Kun Lun mountains. Good. We are on track at least."
The commonly followed route from the west of Tibet to Lhasa, the only route in fact, goes east, after skirting the Trans Himalayas and keeping to their south, following the corridor between the Himalayan massif and the Trans Himalayas. This is an old trade route which has now been upgraded for military purposes. Progress along this route would be easy and fast, but they would encounter a lot of military traffic and many check points, where it was possible that the Chinese authorities might see through their cover. If they had an inkling of their operation, as was suspected, then this was a risk that they could not take. Under normal circumstances no one would suspect a monk and a drokpa woman on a pilgrimage. They would join a caravan as soon as possible, to further allay suspicions. But these were not normal circumstances. They would thus have to follow a route that went north of the Trans Himalayas, keeping south of the 32nd parallel. If they ventured too far to the north, conditions would be too inhospitable. It was on this route that they now set out, heading due west towards the herd of peacefully feeding Yak. They were hopeful of finding some nomads in the vicinity, as the grazing appeared to quite good in the neighbourhood.
As the sun rose higher in the heavens, they saw that it was a beautiful morning. It was very still and tranquil and the sunlight filled the vast landscape with clear golden light. Although the country had looked bare in the early light of dawn, it wasn't really so. Yellow cinquefoil and small weeds grew in sheltered places and in one little hollow by the side of the road they saw the blue Himalayan poppy yet again, though the poppy plant on this side of the Himalayas had spiny leaves. Suddenly the calm of the morning was rent by a shout that seemed to come from some where far ahead.
Ah, I know that shout. We are in luck, Mai Hoe. This shout means we are not far from a drokpa camp."
"How can you say that?"
"You are a drokpa woman, Mai Hoe, you should know that all drokpa families shout like that after their morning prayers and offerings. It is meant to offer the first food of the day to the Gods and to scare away evil spirits."
The black yak-hair tent, pitched in a sheltered hollow, became visible, after a short while when they breasted a small rise. On seeing two strangers approaching, the entire nomad family collected at the entrance. When they saw that one of the strangers was a monk, two of the men came forward to receive them, one carrying some tsampa and cheese in a plate as an offering for the monk. It was obvious that they reckoned the presence of the monk among them as a great honour. Mary Joe they took to be one of their own, but of a superior lineage on account of her relationship with the monk.
They saw on arriving at the tent that the family consisted of an old couple and their son and daughter-in-law and their four children, two of whom wandered about as naked and unencumbered with any raiment, as the surrounding hills. The whole family crowded around the monk, the old folk bowing deeply, eager to be blessed. These blessings were dull bestowed, after which Lobsang was asked to bless the alter that was erected just outside the entrance. This done they entered the tent, and Mary Joe saw, with considerable surprise 'that it was neither as bare nor as uncomfortable as she had thought.
The first object which held her attention was the family , altar erected at the far end of the tent, in a small alcove. Four ornate lamps burned here, before an idol of the Buddha fashioned out of some silvery metal that gleamed dully in the dim light. It was a striking image. The Buddha sat as always in a meditative pose, deeply imbued with tranquillity Yet the image was full of sweeping curves, the eyes slanted upwards, the eyebrows were like arched bows, the robes were creased with tiny spirals and whirlpools. It was as if a graceful but violent force had been arrested and overmastered. It was characteristically Tibetan in its style and Mary Joe was moved. Two additional lamps were placed on the altar in honour of the guests.
Placed along the walls of the tents were wooden chests, many of them inlaid with the same silvery metal and carved exquisitely. There were also yak hide sacks, huge urns for churning butter, samovars and ewers for brewing tea, which was constantly drunk. From the roof of the tent were hung an array of pots and pans and cooking utensils. Also depending from the roof in another part of the tent were the weapons that the family possessed. Some flat bladed swords and a matchlock, to whose barrel were tied a pair of antelope horns, both as a piece of decoration and as a stand for resting the barrel to facilitate taking aim.
Lobsang and Mary Joe were offered seats at a low table, barely two feet high where the family took their meals. Here they were given butter tea, pancakes with patties made of cheese and tsampa.
Lobsang told the nomad family that he was from the monastery of Kumbum in the Amdo province of north eastern Tibet and he and his sister were on a pilgrimage. Such pilgrimages are commonly undertaken, both by monks and ordinary people. He told them that for his own reasons he was anxious to avoid the caravan route which passed south of the mountains through the valley of the Tsang Po. He proposed therefore to follow a route north of the mountains, through the Chang Tang and then cross the Nyenchen Thagla onwards to Lhasa.
The old folks tried to dissuade them from following the northerly route.
"Your reverence should follow the main route. There is no route north of the mountains. No resting places, no villages, and very cold."
"What about Gyami? What about the Chinese."
"No, no Gyami. Only drokpa, like us."
"Ah, then we should be able to find drokpa families all along the way and we can stay with them."
"Perhaps, but the way is hard, and there is no certainty when you will see the next drokpa tent. There are wolves to be found on the way. And if you lose your way, you can wander about for days without seeing another human being. No your reverence, I would urge you not to go thorough the Chang Tang."
Lob sang thanked the old man for his advice and promised to consider it, but his mind was already made up. The risk of being caught by the Chinese on the highway was great and he was unwilling to take such a risk. Mary Joe agreed with him.
The old man, who was the head of this family was obviously ailing. He begged the monk to stay with the family for a few days and this request, coming from an ailing man, who had displayed such hospitality towards them could not very well be refused. So they stayed on. At night the young people slept outside the tent, sleeping under yak hair blankets which they raised over their heads during the night to keep out the cold. Lobsang and Mary Joe were made to sleep inside the tent with the old people. The fire in the hearth was never allowed to go out and inside the tent, sleeping on sheepskin rugs, with two homespun blankets over them; it was surprisingly warm and cosy.
The nomad family were a cheerful lot, but their good cheer was rather dampened by the old man's illness, which seemed to get steadily worse. It soon became apparent to everyone that he would not survive. Still the whole family went about its chores as though nothing very unusual was happening. The old man himself seemed to take the whole thing with a surprising calm and matter of fact attitude. Mary Joe was surprised.
"Lobsang, how is it that the old man is taking everything so calmly. Isn't he afraid of death."
"No Mai Hoe, we Tibetans have a different attitude towards death than you people in the West. For us death is only a bardo, just as life is."
"What's a bardo, explain that in English!"
"Well! my English is not that good. Bardo means, how should I put it, a passage, a journey between two points."
"I see. Life is a journey and so is death. Is that what you mean?"
"Yes in a way."
"But aren't you afraid of the great unknown. The thought of complete extinction, of nothingness, of a sleep without dreams."
"It is not like that Mai Hoe. We know exactly what happens after death, how the spirit leaves the body and is reincarnated."
"But how do you know all this."
"Knowledge Mai Hoe is not a matter of argument. Either you know or you don't."
"Uh, huh, may be before I leave this country, I would also know eh!"
"As your benefactor, I would certainly hope so."
The old man approached death with such a radiant calm, that Mary Joe had to believe what Lobsang had told her. He refused all medicine and attempts to prolong his life. He was especially happy that he had a monk to administer the Phowa to him, the special ceremony for the dying that is meant to ease the suffering of death and ensure a good rebirth.
When the old man was dead his body was taken to a small hill. There it was cut up into small pieces and fed to the birds. The bones were also broken up so that the birds would leave nothing behind. The man who carried out these rites was the old man's own son, for there are no professionals to carry out these funeral rites in the Chang Tang, as there are in Lhasa and the bigger towns.
Mary Joe was predictably horrified. "What a way to perform the last rites of some one whom you have loved all your life."
"What we love is the spirit, not the body. What is the body without the spirit, merely an empty shell. Besides, it is important to ensure that no part of the body falls into the hands of evil men, sorcerers and tantriks, who can use these relics to work their black magic on you."
Now that the old man was dead and his last rites carried out according to the prescribed way, there was nothing to detain them further and they took their leave of the drokpa family. They carried with them the good wishes and blessings of four simple folk.
