Chapter 9
Mary Joe and Lobsang travelled over the barren hills of Ladakh for almost three days. Then one afternoon, the air brought them for the first time the scent of pine. A little later they sighted their first tree in days, a huge Chir pine growing by the side of a small stream. Finally, and abruptly, the army jeep which was carrying them breasted a pass and descended into a wide valley that was green and lush, wooded almost upto the bases of the snowy ramparts which enclosed it on all sides. It was a total contrast from the barren landscape of Ladakh. By by the side of one turbulent stream, whose glacial waters were a bluish green hue, was pitched the army camp where they were to stay. It was a cluster of jerry built corrugated iron shacks painted in army camouflage. They were taken to a tubular quoncet hut, where the commanding officer was quartered, and here they were received by an officer with such a splendidly martial appearance that he looked almost like a caricature.
"Welcome Ms Mary Joe Cameron, and Lobsang Ramten. Welcome to camp 2 9."
"Thank you, er ...."
Colonel PP Singh, commanding officer of this outfit, at your service ma' am."
"Thank you, Colonel, nice place you have, here. Reminds me of the Green Mountains of Vermont, where I was raised, you know. But then they are not quite so high, no, not by a long way."
She looked at the mountains that surrounded them on all sides, shielding her eyes against the afternoon glare and tilting her head back. She had to tilt it back a long way, so that her green Castro cap almost fell off her -head. The mountains were impossibly high, some of them were simply jagged pinnacles of sheer sided granite, so steep that even snow could not find any lodgement on their sides. They rose dark and forbidding over the conifers at their base. Others were snowy giants, shrouded in mist, which seemed to magnify their stupendous size and bulk. Towering over the northern end of the valley and standing a little apart from the other mountains, was a peak which was perfect in its symmetry. Wrapped in the ermine mantle of snow, with a plume of feathery clouds at its summit, it looked like the grand monarch of the whole valley. Mary Joe could barely contain herself.
"What is that Colonel?"
"Huh!?"
"I mean what is that peak called. It looks so grand."
"That is peak 6531"
"What, you mean it has no other name."
"I am afraid not."
"What a pity. Its such a prosaic name for such a wonderful mountain. If you don't mind I am going to call it Pyramid Peak" Just then tea was brought in an elegant service. The Colonel poured out the tea himself, with old fashioned courtesy.
"Sugar?" He asked Mary Joe.
"No, salt."
"Mille?"
"No, butter."
"I beg your pardon miss. I was asking you how much sugar and milk, if any, do you require with your tea."
"I know, I heard you the first time. I said salt and butter because, we are supposed to take only butter tea, which the Tibetans drink, so that we can get used to it."
"I see, a very good idea. In that case, perhaps the lama will be good enough to advise us on how to go about it."
Lobsang did, and Mary Joe was very much amused at the Colonel's efforts to drink the strange decoction, to which she was finally getting accustomed.
They were taken to their tents, simple olive green army canvas huts." I am afraid the accommodation I can offer you is pretty basic. Not at all the style to which you may be accustomed, eh Miss Cameron! But then I have instructions to keep things on this level."
"This will do nicely Colonel, thank you," said Mary Joe. "It is not very different from a drokpa's tent, that we may have to stay in, when we get to the Chang Tang," said Lobsang.
"Right then, I will leave you to your rest. Your training starts at seven tomorrow morning. Please remember to be punctual. Good bye."
"Good bye, Colonel."
Mary Joe, who was already used to getting up before the dawn and breakfasting on tsampa and tea, found the new regime positively luxurious. She was already up with the first light, and after a breakfast that seemed princely in comparison with the frugal repast that she had been used to in the monastery, she was all set and ready to go, before the army camp was even fully awake. So was Lobsang. The soldiers were surprised when they queued up for their morning tea to find that Mary Joe and Lobsang were practising Kung-fu moves in a makeshift ring. The monk with his purple robes flapping in the wind, and Mary Joe in Jeans and T-shirt, leaping and flying at each other like practising acrobats. There was a buzz of admiration that passed around the soldiers who crowded the ring. And when at the end of the session a flying kick aimed by Mary Joe, shattered the wooden platter which Lobsang was using as a shield, this buzz turned to clapping. The Colonel joined in the clapping. "An excellent performance. Where did you learn unarmed combat Ms Cameron?"
"Here and there Colonel, some of it from my friend Lobsang. Would you like us to teach some of the basic moves to your soldiers."
"Not really Ms. Cameron. They are trained for war, which is a serious business, not a series of well choreographed dance routines."
"Uh-huh!" If Mary Joe was offended she did not show it. "When do we begin our training Colonel?"
"Right away. You see the mountain in front," the Colonel pointed to a huge wooded mountain straight ahead, whose summit was shrouded in mist. The first week or so we will spend on stamina building exercises. A person in good condition should be able to make it to the base of the snow line in about two hours and get back for lunch. Let's see how we fare."
The Colonel who was expecting two out of shape city bred softies, was surprised to find that his two recruits were easily able to keep up with him. They reached the snow field in just under ninety minutes and at the top of the climb, he found that it was he who had to do the keeping up and his companions would have raced ahead, had he not increased his own pace to the limits. The Colonel was a good ten years older than Mary Joe, even so he was seldom prepared to make any allowances for age. But for once his companions succeeded in winning his grudging admiration. "That wasn't bad. No, not bad at all. Both of you are in pretty good shape."
They walked back at a more leisured pace, pausing often to admire the scenery. The forest about them was dark and dank, the sun filtering dimly through the branches of giant conifers. Huge deodars, stretched their arms out gracefully, their slender fingers and knuckles dipping and yet arching upwards at the extremity like the extended arms of dancers. Their branches bristled with short spiny needles that were a rich green hue, and their massive trunks were gnarled and fissured, and often festooned with streamers of moss. Every once in a while they came across a huge lifeless trunk, blighted by lightening, still standing up like an obelisk. A monumental sculpture. Cascading down the mountainside, rushed a foaming torrent, its thunder drowning out the small jungle sounds that make a forest walk so delightful.
It was due to the sound of the brook that they did not hear the bear. And it was due to the dimness of the shadowy forest that they did not see it until it was almost upon them. It was the Colonel who saw it first when it was about fifteen yards away. It was too late for the bear to turn away and with an angry grunt it charged the three of them. The Colonel had his 9mm pistol out and fired off a hurriedly taken shot at the onrushing beast. A rather alarming thing happened. The bullet probably grazed the back of the animal's skull and went ricocheting away. The bear kept coming on. When it was no more than a few yards away, it stood up on its hind legs showing the white 'V' on its chest, and advanced towards Mary Joe, ready to give her the deadly bear hug. Mary Joe stood her ground and when the bear got closer, spinning around on her heel slammed a powerful kick at its midriff. That kick would have stopped a sumo wrestler dead in his tracks, but Himalayan black bears are stronger than sumo wrestlers. This one was a veritable giant, six hundred pounds of bone and muscle, and it was not so easily deterred. The kick had the effect of diverting the bear, however. With a snort of rage it turned away from Mary Joe and made for the purple robed lama. Perhaps he thought that the man of God will not react so violently to his advances. In this he was of course quite wrong. The lama's response was even more unexpected, and from the bear's point of view more alarming. As the beast extended its claws towards the lama's face to leave its trade mark imprint on his cheeks, four parallel lines, deeply scoured, like four lines of red lava flow down the sides of a mountain, he stepped inside the arms and with a loud yell that unnerved the bear, slammed one fist straight on to the bear's most sensitive organ, his snout. With an angry woof of pain and fear, the bear turned tail and fled down the mountainside the same way that he had come.
The Colonel who still had his pistol in his hand, but had not had the opportunity to use the weapon, shook his head in disbelief and wonderment. " That was a close call, a close call indeed. I wonder if this particular bear will ever again dare to attack another human being."
"At least the bear wasn't dancing to the tune of a choreographer," said Mary Joe.
The Colonel was willing to acknowledge his earlier mistake with a handsome apology. "Well I must retract my earlier remarks about martial arts. What you just did to that bear was most remarkable. Still it might have been safer to have allowed me to shoot it down."
"What! shoot down a Himalayan black bear with that pea shooter! You must be kidding Colonel," said Mary Joe.
"Better no kill. Animals too want to live," exclaimed Lobsang.
This argument was unanswerable and the Colonel sat nothing in reply. The rest of the way down was thus covered in silence, save for the croaking of a raven that followed them down the slope, alighting on trees and stumps just ahead of the trio, like a black-coated herald leading a royal progress.
The next day they started on hang-gliding. Mary Joe soon picked up the basics of hang-gliding, but Lobsang found the whole thing more than passing strange. There was a long grassy buttress leading to a snow slope which was the ideal training ground for them. It was here that the Colonel brought them, most mornings. "The basic principles of hang-gliding, , Ms. Cameron and Mr Ramten are very simple."
"Call me Mary Joe."
"And me Lobsang."
"All right Lobsang and Mary Joe, as I was saying the basic principle of this sport is simple. It is to utilise the upward rising currents of air to fly like a bird. You are no doubt aware owing to the heating of the atmosphere due to the sun, warm currents of air constantly rise upward, while cold air comes down towards the ground. These warm currents that spiral upwards are called thermals. You must have seen, quite often, kites and kestrels spiralling upwards endlessly on rising columns of warm air, without ever flapping their wings. These birds can be seen gliding motionlessly for hours, high up in the sky, especially on hot days. Well, the object of hang-gliding is the same, to hang aloft in the air and to rise upwards using the same air currents that these birds utilise. Any questions?"
"N o, not yet carry on."
"Well, a hang-glider is a simple apparatus. The frame is made up of fibreglass or aluminium tubing which can be dismantled and folded up. The wings are made of canvas or of nylon and silk, reinforced like a parachute's fabric. The glider is turned by leaning on the horizontal handle bar, which acts as a rudder as well as a handle. There are two cords which the rider uses to increase the drag and thus to slow the glider in order to descend. That's about all that there is to learn, the rest is only trial and error."
Mary Joe had a question, "From what you have said, about rising air currents, it seems that it would be difficult if not impossible to use a hang glider at night"
"Good question, Mary Joe. You are right, night gliding is possible only when unusual geographical features supervene. But there is one situation when it is always possible to use hang-gliding at night."
"And what is that."
"When the glider is launched from a great height and the rider has in front of him a valley or a plateau that is several thousand feet lower. In that case, one can cover a lot of distance while losing height steadily. The forward motion and speed of the glider can keep the rider airborne for quite a while. The rider's flight path would then be like the hypotenuse of a very tall right angled triangle."
"Is that what you intend do with us, Colonel?"
"Yes eventually, but for the time being let us abandon theory and get down to practice."
The Colonel took them to the top of the grassy slope. There they put on the harness, feeling awkward and clumsy at first. "It seems impossible that anyone could ever fly, in this contraption, Colonel," said Mary Joe.
"Wait, until you get used to it, then you will begin to fly like a bird."
"Wait, until you get used to it, then you will begin to fly like a bird."
The first few launches were disasters. They were meant to fly, but their take-off ended in a tangle of arms and legs and after rolling down the slope for some distance they were brought up short by the wings of their glider getting caught in some bushes. But gradually they got the hang of it. Mary Joe was the first to manage a real take-off and glide for a short distance before landing in a ravine full of stinging nettles that left her bruised and bleeding.
Lobsang for his part was a game tryer, but it took him longer to accomplish a proper take off. "Don't hold back sir. The problem with you is that check your speed just as you are about to launch yourself. Just hurl yourself over the edge of the slope and you will find yourself flying. Try it." Said the Colonel.
However it was. only when the Colonel ran behind the lama and pushed him over the edge that he finally managed to take-off and fly. Once airborne, however there was no stopping him. After every landing one had to trudge up the, slope with the glider tied to a back pack, assemble the machine on top of the slope and then take off. It was hard work. But Lobsang didn't seem to tire at all. After each landing he would trudge up the slope like a lumbering beetle climbing up a glass top, and then with obvious relish launch himself down the slope. Soon he was flying long distances and even managing precision landings on an earmarked square.
Having thus mastered the rudiments of the art of hang-gliding, time came when both the learners became adepts at it. They learned how to avoid stormy weather, cloudburst and electrical storms, which are the major hazards to hang-gliding in the mountains. They learned how to quickly assess a landing ground and how, in emergencies, to carry out a crash landing on water, or on treetops in a forest glade. There was nothing more that the Colonel could teach them.
It was nearing the end of summer. Dark clouds often gathered around the tops of snowy summits, and there were short sharp showers at the end of hot summer afternoons. These showers were preceded by the fanfare of thunder and lightening. The Colonel called it gunnery practice. The artillery of heaven going off. Sometimes the thunder rumbled without a pause for hours and the purple bolts of lightening flashed unceasingly for a long while, so that one could read in the dark without the need of lights.
There was no doubt about it; the rains were coming. If they wanted to make their nocturnal flight into Tibet, the time had come to do it. One evening, when it was miraculously calm and clear after a rainstorm the three of them gathered round a camp fire. The blaze of juniper and birch logs burned brightly, sending up a shower of dancing sparks every now and then and filling the night with its resinous aroma. The three of them sat with mugs of rum in their hands, the flames lighting up their eyes, their foreheads, highlighting the high points in their faces and deepening the shadows in the hollows. Beyond the circle of light cast by the flames were soldiers, standing guard at the perimeter. A stream roared by close at hand, and they had to talk over the noise of the endless singing of the torrent.
"Tomorrow we will set out for peak 6531 OR Pyramid Peak. The time has come for making our attempt."
There was an air of anticipation tinged with sadness. The three individuals who sat around the fire, had, in the space of two months, come to know each other rather well. 'Between them was the comradeship that grows up between those who play a common part in a dangerous enterprise. It was fellowship born of shared dangers and hazards. Perhaps it was more. It was the bond that unites the freemasonry of idealists, self-sacrificing and gallant women and men every where.
"Are you fond of poetry Mary Joe."
"Not really, never had much time for it actually. Why do you ask?"
"It is Robert Frost, a poet from your native Vermont, who has said, -The woods are lovely dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep., And miles to go before I sleep. I suspect some such feeling must be in your mind tonight, even though you haven't read Frost."
"Miles to go before I sleep. That's it. That's just how I feel. Colonel, you know something, you talk just like my father. Tell me about the code of the Rajput's that you talked about once."
"Rajputs are a breed of men who put honour above all else. But all that is a matter of the past. There have been traitors and Quislings among Rajputs as much as among other men. It is all left to individuals to design their own codes."
"Well what's your code then."
"My cade? Well, I den't know if you can call a code. My only ambition is to live like a soldier, to fight hard but honourably and when the time comes, not to finch from dying like a soldier, looking the enemy full in the face. That's all."
"And yours Lobsang? What is it that makes you tick?"
I am also a warrior, Mai Hoe, like the Colonel, only my path 1s the path of Dhamma. It is a difficult path, and the real enemy is not outside but within us, our own desires and greed, which lead us away from the path. The goal is to conquer oneself. And as the Buddha says in the Dhammapad, he who has conquered himself is more to be admired than him who has subdued a foe ten thousand times stronger than himself."
"What about you Mary Joe, you haven't said any thing about your own goals," asked the Colonel.
"Never thought about it Colonel, but I guess I am just an ordinary girl. No big spiritual goals for me. I just want to enjoy life, to have a double burger and a chocolate sundae in the corner drug store when I feel like it and in short just be myself."
"You are not being serious."
"Sure I am serious "
"Then why did you choose to come to a place where all you are going to get is tsampa and tea, if that?"
"May be to get rid of my addiction to junk food."
"There you go again, taking the whole thing as a joke."
"Yeah, my dad says the only sensible way, or the only serious way if you like, to deal with life, is to take it as a joke. To see the funny side of everything. You can put that down as my credo, if that is what you are looking for."
Lobsang, who had been staring into the fire with a meditative look, laughed at this, "why that makes you almost a Tibetan. We Tibetans also laugh a lot."
"Sure, by the time I am through with this mission, I would be as much a Tibetan as you are, you red-robed commissar of the Buddha, then when I get back home, I can earn my living selling momo and tsampa to expat Tibetans."
"It is early days to be thinking of getting back, but I'll drink to that'' Said the Colonel.
"Cheers."
They raised their mugs in a toast to each other, as the sparks from the fire went spiralling up into the night. Their words were lighthearted, but they knew that beyond the small circle of the flames was the all-encompassing darkness, and they were about to take a final step into the great unknown.
