Chapter 34
GENERAL Hu watched the early glow of dawn on the bare hills of Lhasa and smiled to himself with a pleasant sense of anticipation. This morning he was going to put his long deferred plan of visiting Thamba Dzong into action. He was already dressed for action, though it was so early in the day. He wore the full uniform of a General of the PLA, as he always did when he went into action. And the uniform with the red star on the epaulettes, the embroidered collar tabs, the braided lanyard, and the array of battle honours decorating the front of the tunic, was rather splendid. The General had invited Colonel Hu and his other staff officers to breakfast and he went out of his hut to receive the guests as two command cars drove up to his residence. The General knew the value of army ceremonial and the spit and polish that went with it. It was, he knew, necessary to create a sense of occasion, and he used these accoutrements much as a director uses stage props; to build up atmosphere.
"So Colonel, Thamba Dzong at last, and the final showdown," he said, when breakfast had been cleared away.
"Yes General, there is a strong likelihood that we may prove lucky today."
"Likelihood, tcha man! I am certain of it. Now that we know about the rescue party, I am doubly certain of it. That is why I want you to make sure nothing goes wrong. Lets face it, so far our attempts to nab these spies have been nothing more than comedy of errors. But all that will be forgotten if we succeed today. Nothing succeeds like success. Eh gentlemen!"
"Certainly sir, I will make sure we do not fail this time." Colonel Chu fingered his hairline moustache and fidgeted in his chair.
"So, lets take a look at the map one last time."
The big map of Thamba Dzong and the surrounding mountains was spread out on the table in front of them. The General had already studied the map intensively but he wished to go over his strategy with his officers. The map showed the castle with the lake to the south and west and mountains to the north and east and south east. The castle stood on a promontory of land on the eastern end of the lake. To the north the mountains were about a mile distant from the castle and there was a swathe of level land between the water and the mountains. To the south and west the sheet of water enclosed the castle, lapping at the foot of the cliff on which it was built. A narrow spit of land connected it to the eastern shore of the lake and here the mountains came down almost to the margin of the water. An outlying spur of the Nyenchen Thagla rose steeply all around the eastern shore like a rampart. Beyond the lake to the south and east were more mountains, but these were gentler and could be climbed in a number of places. Escape, if it was possible at all, lay either to the north or over the water to the south and west.
The peculiar geographical features around the castle of Thamba Dzong simplified the task of any attacking team. All that they had to, do was to cut off the escape route over the water to the south and east, secure the narrow causeway that connected the castle to the eastern shore and then take the castle by main force. The General chose to ignore the fact that he was dealing with a very small number of lightly armed defenders. He approached the problem in the same way that he would have if he were dealing with a strongly entrenched defence with adequate firepower. He explained the layout to his team of officers. "So what do you suggest we do Colonel?"
"To my mind, General, there is only one thing to be done. We send out boats to surround the castle from the south and west and then attack it from the east. It should be a simple matter then to capture the causeway to the east and then take the castle itself."
"Too obvious Colonel. You forget that the defenders would be expecting the very thing that you are suggesting. The causeway could be mined and booby trapped. And because it is so narrow, even a small number of defenders could give effective covering fire thereby holding up much larger attacking force. No, we must think of some other way. Any suggestions gentlemen?"
Everyone knew that the General had his own plan and the question was only rhetorical, so no one spoke, waiting for the General to put his cards on the table. "All right, if there are no other ideas, this is what I propose. We send out boats from the south and west as the colonel suggests, but we don't try to capture the causeway. We put a Mi24 chopper over it to cover any attempt at a break out. If need be we can keep two choppers over the eastern end to make sure that side is neutralised. Then we enter the castle from the south, and from the west and north. This three pronged attack will surprise the defenders and it will compel them to divide forces. The advantage would then be decisively with us. Is this clear to everyone?"
Everyone nodded. Then a young Captain spoke. "What about the rescue party sir. Should we not also take them into reckoning?"
"Good question Captain. The rescue party, if it reaches the scene at all will hae to come from the east or rather the south east. They have not the time to make a circuit and approach the castle from any other direction. Now what do we have to the south east. Forbidding mountain features, practically unclimbable, except by trained mountaineers. All that we need to do again is to keep an eye on the mountains from the air. The Mi24 should be able to do the job. If anyone is foolish enough to come up these bare mountains we will pick him out from the air like a sitting duck. It will be firing practice for the pilots, nothing more, I assure you."
The General's plan, meticulous though it was, contained one fatal oversight. The General did not know of the ravine that came up to the castle from the south east, for the simple reason that his map did not show any such feature. Nor did anyone else, for no one else had any personal knowledge of the area.
"There is only one regret that I have about this mission," the General was speaking again, "and that is that this has to be a daylight operation. "We have to sacrifice the element of surprise because our choppers will be useless at night. But then against a small defending force that shouldn't be too much of a problem. Well that's all. Are your troops ready Colonel?"
"Yes sir, the entire force of two platoons, along with six high-speed boats and the two Mi24s is ready and waiting. We have included a team of commandos trained in demolition work and forcing entry into hostile buildings. And the two choppers apart from their usual armament will also have a load of napalm, just in case the enemy tries to break out through the isthmus."
"Good, and in case some of you are wondering why such a lot of force is needed to tackle a handful of saboteurs let me tell you the reason. I want to capture these chaps alive, to avoid useless bloodshed and violence, and the best way to achieve that is to confront them with overwhelming force. Once they realize that they have absolutely no chance against us, they will think about surrender. But if they think they have even the ghost of a chance of escaping, they will try to take that chance, and then there will be avoidable bloodshed."
The attacking force set off from the Chinese base on the southern shore of lake Basum Tso about ten in the morning. The first to arrive on the scene were the attack helicopters one of which took up station near the causeway to the east of the castle hovering about two hundred yards above it. The other chopper went out over the mountains to the east, looking for rescue party. The pilot began to circle over the hills, flying low and keeping a sharp, lookout for any moving figures. He gradually shortened the diameter of each circle, quartering the area with military thoroughness. The sun, already high up in a cloudless sky, picked out every detail on the southern and eastern slopes of the desolate mountains. Had anyone, or anything been on those slopes the pilot felt sure that he would spot them. The only thing that bothered the pilot was a narrow ravine that snaked up the mountain, leading up to the castle from the south east. No one had told him about this ravine, nor was it shown on his navigation map. The mountains on. both sides of this defile pressed so close together that it wasn't possible to fly through the ravine. All that the pilot could do was to watch it from a safe distance above. But the ravine was in deep shadow and its jagged lip made it difficult to peer down and see what was happening at the bottom.
Lobsang and Mary Joe were sunning themselves in the courtyard of the castle when they heard the choppers clattering overhead. Their first instinct was to rush for cover. Both of them dashed into the temple that stood virtually in the centre of the courtyard. But for some reason the chopper did not approach the castle. It hovered a few hundred yards from them to the east, keeping its distance. They crept up to the parapets to investigate, keeping close to the wall and creeping along it in the shade. What they saw held them spellbound.
From the south and west, spread around in a crescent formation, six high-speed hydrofoil torpedo boats were coming towards the castle. They could see, through the binoculars, the bows of the boats rising clear out of the lake and furrows widening behind them. in a huge swell as they thundered through the still waters of the lake, the roar of their supercharged diesel engines sounding to their ears, like the knell of death. To the east the chopper continued to hover over the causeway. It was obviously there to cut off their escape to the east. They estimated that it would take the boats no more than five minutes at the most to reach the castle. Five minutes -that was probably all that was left to them of life, of the sweet breath of the wind and the warm glow of the sun, of the sight of well-loved faces and of cloud-capped skies and the stars at night and all that makes life worth living. They looked at each other sombrely; their minds racing. Mary Joe felt a gentle melancholy. Lobsang only felt a mild euphoria, like a true Buddhist he had often thought of death and prepared himself to meet it, and now that the hour was come he was going over the long hours of spiritual instruction. Life after all was only Bardo, a transitional state, and death was a passage to another Bardo, that led the human soul onwards on its journey towards Nirvana. But these thoughts passed through his mind quickly, The thought that stayed with him was the thought of dying honourably, of selling his life dearly, of putting up a fight. He knew that escape was impossible but he wasn't going to give himself without trying to break out. Curiously Mary Joe thought exactly the same things. In the moment of extreme danger the Buddhist monk and the agnostic American girl found that they were of the same mind. It took them only a minute to decide that their only chance lay in trying to dash out of the castle, swim towards the eastern shore and then to try to work out an escape route through the ravine. They could see that the chopper hovering over the causeway would probably cut them down, but there was still a chance, a very slim chance it is true, but still a chance that they might be able to get away. It was a chance that they decided to take.
They knew that if they tried to dash out over the causeway through the gates of the castle which faced east, the chopper would simply blast them out. Its missile pods were aimed straight at these very gates and no one could come out of them without being seen. So they decided to go round to the northern side of the parapets where the castle walls would screen them from the chopper and from there, after jumping into the water, try to swim around to the east.
Mary Joe was the first to jump, after sheathing her AK-47 in a water proof bag and throwing it down before her. Before she jumped she made sure that the treaty was securely wrapped up in waterproof oilskin and put away in a sealed tin cylinder which she strapped to her waist. Then came Lobsang. They were in clear view of the armada of motorboats rushing towards them, but still out of range of their weapons. They started swimming swiftly towards the shore which was still about sixty yards away, keeping their heads underwater, and hoping fervently that the helicopter pilot would not notice them. If they could gain the shelter of the ravine they should be safe, but that meant still a swim across the open channel and then a rush across the shore line, a distance of a full hundred yards without a spot of cover. It would indeed be a miracle if they could get there without being blown to bits by a well-aimed missile, or a burst from the light machine gun whose chunky snout jutted out from the weapons bay under the chopper.
They kept their minds on the task of swimming, trying to move forward using an easy yet powerful breast stroke, keeping their bodies as low in the water as possible. But they had been seen by the boats and they pointed out their presence to the chopper who fired an exploratory burst from his machine gun into the water. As the bullets chattered and splashed all around them they dived deeper into the water. They swam in the twilight world underwater, pushing through waving fronds of kelp. But they could-not swim underwater for ever, they had to come up for air, and when they did the bullets would smash into them. Mary Joe thought for the first time of what it would be like to feel the hot lead tearing into her body. She prayed that she would not have to suffer too long. Then when her bursting lungs could no longer be contained she swam up, breaking the surface with a whoosh and sucking in frantic lungfuls of the blessed air. She didn't care if the pilot saw her. She didn't mind dying, she pref erred death by a hail of bullets to being asphyxiated in a dimly lit, watery, death chamber. But no bullets hit her. When she turned her head towards the helicopter all she saw was a ball of fire and a burning aircraft plunging into the lake. There were people standing on the eastern shore, calling out to them, shouting at them to come out of the water quickly. They were armed, she could see the snub-nosed sten guns that they sported, and they were on their side.
The torpedo boats, meanwhile were coming closer by the second. They had now started firirng their weapons and mortar shells had started landing around them showering the area in a deadly burst of shrapnel. It was a miracle that no one was hit yet, but it would only be a matter of time before they got the range right. It was only the speed of the onrushing boats which saved them perhaps. But the boats would reach them in less than a minute in any case. That was all the time they had, to find a way to escape. Less than a minute.
They raced for the ravine as the bullets whined and ricocheted around them. Their rescuers, they could see, were returning fire, aiming at the oncoming boat from a light mortar. Their fire apparently was more accurate than the Chinese, for the one of the boats had already taken a direct hit and was burning brightly. But the other boats were still coming .on at a terrific pace. A single light mortar would hardly be a match for the arsenal which the Chinese were deploying. It was a hugely unequal battle.
Mary Joe could see a tall, martial figure in the robes of monk, standing before the ravine, oblivious of the deadly salvo that was being directed at them by the Chinese. The figure seemed strangely familiar. The man was urging them to hurry and hurry they did, as far as their sodden clothes and tired bodies could permit them to hurry. Mary Joe could see through the corner of her eyes that Lobsang had been hit. She, could see blood oozing out of a gash on his arm where a bullet must have grazed him. They were still some yards away from the ravine when She recognized with a thrill that the monk with the military bearing was none other than her old friend Colonel Singh. And she canoned straight into the ramrod erect figure, as she hurled herself forward in a flying tackle on finally reaching the shelter of the ravine. Behind her she could also hear Lobsang, landing on the rocks with a thud as he dived for shelter.
If the Colonel was disconcerted by this he did not show it. "Bravo, bravo, Mary Joe, you are not hurt, I hope."
"No I am not hurt. And by the way you look funny without your moustache, rather like Lobsang without his robes."
"We will discuss my appearance later, right now off you go down the ravine, no time to waste."
"But what about you Colonel, you are not going to stay here alone. This is no time for heroics."
The Colonel did not look at her as he replied. "I still have a job to do my dear Mary Joe. But I shall join you before long, never fear." He was busy setting up a detonator with a time fuse within a wad of semtex that he placed under some rocks high up on the cliff face on the side of the ravine. Another monk-soldier finished placing a similar slab of dark resinous explosive under some rocks, high up on the other ravine wall. A third soldier kept up a continuos fire from his sten gun as another soldier tossed one grenade after another over the lip of the ravine to keep the advancing Chinese at bay. The huge boulders at the entrance gave excellent cover to the defenders and the Chinese were advancing warily. But it did not seem possible that a party of four or five lightly armed men could hold the Chinese for very long. Their resistance must soon be overwhelmed. And once the Chinese were within the ravine they could take pot shots at them, pick them off like a trap shooter picking off clay pigeon from his shot gun. The advantage of holding the higher ground would them be with the Chinese and no matter how hard they ran, they would soon fall to their bullets.
Yet the Colonel seemed strangely sure of himself as he came dashing down the mountainside, urging everyone to run. "Run, run, Mary Joe, your life depends on it."
It wasn't easy to run down a ravine filled with vertical cliffs. One could only slide down these rocks, and this Mary Joe did. They could not have gone more than fifty yards when two thunderous explosions seemed to rock the earth. The crashing Niagara of sound echoed and reverberated around the ravine, but its sound was mingled with another deeper sound, the thunder of an avalanche as the sides of the ravine collapsed and tons of boulder and rubble came crashing down from all sides. When the avalanche ended the entrance of the ravine was completely blocked with a mountain of stone and rubble. No one could now enter the ravine-not even the Chinese. There was no way up the unstable pile of loose rubble which filled the mouth of the defile. To go up the spurs on the side and then detour down into the ravine from the side was possible, and this was what the frustrated Chinese decided eventually to do. But by then, Colonel Singh and his friends were already miles away.
For the first hour or so they did not pause to speak. They slithered and glissaded down huge rocks, going down all the while. It was, thought Mary Joe, for all the world like sliding down a dry waterfall. It was tough going and dangerous, but also strangely exhilarating. They paused only when they had reached the bottom of the ravine at its conjunction with the river. It was already quite dark when they did so, and without wasting any time they put their raft .on the water and cast off.
"We are not going to go down the river, Colonel? " Asked Mary Joe
"We are."
"Wouldn't it be better to walk down to the border through the forest?"
"May be. But that is where the Chinese will be looking for us now. And having let us slip through their fingers once, you can take it. from me that they will be doubly cautious this time. I would much rather take my chances with the river than with a Chinese patrol."
"No one, has ever been able to go down the Brahmputra gorges Colonel," said Lobsang." Even maps of the area have not been made."
"You are right, that is why the Chinese will never think of looking for us on the river. And if they do they will never find us. Pursuit over the river will be impossible. And once we enter the gorges, no aircraft will be able to spot us. We will be safe from the Chinese, but safety is a relative word. As Lobsang says, the Brahmputra gorges have never been traversed by any one before. lt is considered flatly impossible, even by the best experts on white-water rafting. So maybe we will be in even greater danger than we would be if we tried to dodge through the Chinese. lines overland."
"Still, this is the life," said Mary Joe, enjoying the swift rush of the river and the keen wind on her face. The clear, cold stars of the Tibetan sky filled the firmament with points of fire. They rode the current, occasionally encountering a patch of rough water, but nothing that would cause them serious problems. The worst rapids still lay ahead, as they entered the outer periphery of the Upper Gorge, where the river turns sharply to the north between mountain walls that already seemed impossibly steep. When they were well within the confines of the gorge they made camp in a small cove, hemmed in by rocky buttresses that swept up towards unseen summits.
After feeding on strips of dried yak meat that tasted like shoe leather and bars of chocolate, they spent the night, huddled together and trying vainly to sleep. The intense cold and the lack of blankets meant a wakeful vigil broken up with catnaps. Next morning they prepared to make an early start after breakfasting on the same unappetising fare. When Mary Joe woke up Colonel Singh was already doing limbering up exercises on the margin of the water. "How do you feel, Mary Joe?"
"Like ,a barrel full of last year's codlings."
"Huh, another one of your colourful American expressions. You are, how shall I put it ... "
"Cussed as an old turkey. Or, as you would put it, incorrigible. I feel Just fine Colonel. How is the road ahead?"
"We are now entering the upper gorge. Have you ever done any white-water rafting?"
"The only rafting that I ever did was when we tried riding logs over the white caps on the brook at the farm back home in Vermont. Nothing after that."
"Well, to put it simply rapids are classified according to the difficulty of traversing them on a scale of six. The easiest are grade one rapids and the most difficult are grade five. The sixth grade is only a notional grade, no one has ever encountered or crossed anything more than a grade five rapid in practice. The sixth grade is only kept in the book as an ultimate challenge, unattainable in practice but kept there as an ideal to remind men that nature can never be conquered, only understood. Well the upper gorge is grade six."
"Gee, that means we have about as much chance of making it, as the Vermont Vikings have of winning Superbowl."
"Possibly less, but life is sustained by hope. May be the Gods who rule this place are with us."
The Upper Gorge certainly looked like the abode of titans as they entered it. To their right was the huge bastion of Namche Barwa, its summit so far above them that the eye lost itself in the intricate maze of ridges and buttresses that led up to it. To their left was a mountain wall that seemed no less lofty and in front of them, ascending sharply from the boiling water was a curtain of rock, crowned with jagged summits, and seemingly impenetrable. It seemed impossible that any river could find a way through it. Yet the mighty Tsangpo had forced its way through this mountain wall, cutting deep into the rock through aeons of unremitting labour. The result was the Upper Gorge, a narrow, winding chasm, so deep that its lower reaches were shrouded in almost perpetual gloom. There were places where the Tsanpo gorge was fully three times as deep as the Grand Canyon.
As it hurtles through the confines of the Upper Gorge, the Tsangpo loses height rapidly. When it enters the gorge, it is flowing at an elevation of about thirteen thousand feet, but when it emerges from the gorge it is only at about seven thousand feet. Thus it loses about six thousand feet within a short distance of about twenty miles. This means the Upper Gorge is an almost continuous series of rapids and cataracts, some truly horrendous, but none are less than grade four.
As they pushed off down the river into the gorge they realized that their oars would be useless. The current took hold of their raft and they were spun around and carried off by the swirling waters. No one spoke, for no one could be heard over the ceaseless roaring of the river. Each one of them kept his eyes on the water, hoping and praying that they would not run into something impassable.
But the rapids got steadily worse Small cascades became minor cataracts, minor cataracts became small waterfalls. Then they arrived, rather suddenly at a place where further progress seemed impossible. Hurtling between sheer precipices of granite, here the river fell headlong into a waterfall at least twenty feet high. Below the fall the water boiled in a churning maelstrom that sent curtains of spray and froth blowing into the wind. When the river finally broke through this cauldron, it surged out in a series of cataracts where the foaming water was almost completely white.
They shuddered at their approaching fate but were powerless as the raft was sucked towards the fall. The sides of the river were hemmed in by the slabs of rock offering no purchase or halting place. As the raft went over the fall it canted at an acute angle, throwing Mary Joe overboard. She found herself swallowing water as she was sucked into the whirlpool. She fought against the waves of nausea and shock that swept over her, trying not to swallow any more water, as she fought to come up to surface. Then her body was ejected out of the cauldron, like a cork spun around by the waves, and she found herself carried downstream by the current.
As she was swept away by the current, her body was lacerated by the sharp-edged rocks that jutted out of the river. On one of these rocks she struck her head, nearly losing consciousness. As the black waves of oblivion sought to engulf her she fought back desperately. She knew that she must remain alert at all costs, else she would surely drown.
As she swung between sleep and waking the current turned her body around so that for a while she was floating on her back. She saw the faraway summits and the blue sky overhead. Had not Lobsang said that the sky and the mountains were part of the same essence which was also the essence of her mind. It was all in the mind, life and death were also in the mind. She felt a surge of strength pass through her. I am becoming a Buddhist, she said to herself, as the river rounded a bend and suddenly she found that the gorge had widened to a valley and the water so turbulent before, here flowed placidly between gently sloping banks which were lined with small patches of shingle She found herself swimming in the direction of one of these shingled coves and when she finally gained the shore and pulled herself out of the water, she saw that the raft that she had left behind was also heading in her direction.
The relief on the faces of her companions was obvious as they beached the raft and clambered on shore. "How are . you Mary Joe," said the Colonel. Lobsang said the same thing, looking at her anxiously.
She opened her eyes with an effort and smiled at them. "Oh I am fine. Right as rain in the spring, "said she, before closing her eyes again and finally going to sleep. When she woke up, after a short nap, the others were still huddled about her in various attitudes of concern. Lobsang was furiously telling his beads. Colonel Singh was gazing at the river in a meditative attitude. Their Monpa guide was hopping about, muttering some mantras.
"Ah see, she wakes up,'' he said as Mary Joe sat up and was offered bars of chocolate and some tea which had been brewed especially for her. A small fire was burning in one corner of the cove, caution finally thrown to the winds.
"How are you really, Mary Joe?"
"I am fine Colonel. Just a bump on the head." On the side of her head was nasty swelling, but there was no open wound. Just the large contusion around which the cyanosed skin had turned blue.
"No kidding."
"No kidding Colonel."
The cove was on the left bank of the river. A short distance downstream the valley again narrowed to a gorge and they could hear a tremendous noise, the continuous thunder of waters falling over a precipice.
"We are close to the big fall. This fall is more than a hundred feet high, so there is no question of going over it. We now have two choices, either we try to go round the fall by taking to the flanking mountainside and then come down to the river again, or we leave the gorge and take to the jungle heading for the Burma border to the south-east. This side of the border is likely to be lightly guarded because the Chinese will be expecting us to go for the Indian border to the south. Once we are in Burma we can make a right turn to the west and enter India from any one of a dozen different points. The Indian frontier is fairly porous on that side. My preference is for trying the jungle route."
"I second that," said Mary Joe without a second thought and it was agreed that they would climb the left flank of the gorge and try to find their way to the border through the jungle.
They put the proposal to the Monpa and he too seemed to agree, "but first we go to the temple to seek the blessings of the White Goddess."
"A temple here, in' this god-forsaken place." Said Mary Joe.
"No place on earth is god-forsaken Dolma. Least of all this place. This is a sacred place. The home of Phage Dorjii the White Goddess. You should know that because you owe your life to her blessings."
"Oops, sorry, but why do all the gods of Tibet dwell in such remote places?"
"I think I can answer that Mary Joe," said the Colonel, God is reached only after an arduous journey, a journey that engages all your physical and mental strength. That is why the Buddhists and the Hindus make their temples on the tops of high mountains, or, as in this case, in remote and secluded spots, far from the haunts of men. Those who reach these places are driven by unshakeable faith. Those who have not this faith, simply don't make the journey, or give up half-way. But enough discussion. If you really feel as good as you say, let us visit the temple and be on our way. Lead on Thondup"
The Monpa let them along the beach to a little transverse valley that opened out suddenly in the mountainside to their left. No one could have imagined that such a place could exist in the bleak, forbidding confines of the gorge. The valley was formed by a narrow inlet, a lateral extension of the river that was fringed unexpectedly by a growth of wild strobilanthes. Higher up on the hill, rhododendron bushes grew, tall and luxuriant and covered in large pink flowers. A small brook trickled down from the hillside, at a spot about half-way up the mountain and fretted down the rocks in a series of cataracts. It was hard to believe that this verdant backwater could be found within the seething desolation of the Upper Gorge. At the head of the inlet, a small distance from the shore was a little temple, made of boulders piled up ingeniously. The roof was made up of two large stone slabs. Inside the shrine was an intricately carved statue of the White Goddess, set within a frieze which showed other Tibetan deities.
The Monpa who had with him the traditional white scarf, made its offering to the Goddess. Lobsang placed a bar of chocolate at the base of the altar. Everyone prayed awhile. Then they were away, climbing a precipitous path that led up the side of the mountain, their Monpa guide leading the way. When they were half way up, they paused for a rest and looked down at the small valley and the great river churning through the gorge. What they saw gladdened their hearts. Arching over the gorge below them was a perfect rainbow. Curtains of vapour rising from the fall were billowing about its base and its top reached up into the vault of heaven like a celestial bridge. The Monpa clapped his hands with joy at this heavenly portent, which he took to be direct sign from the Goddess. They knew then that they would not fail in their mission and went forward on their journey with peace in their hearts.
Six days later they were in India.
