Chapter 17
AFTER travelling southwards for a week, Lobsang and Mary Joe found themselves in the shadow of a range of mountains that stretched away on an east-west axis, blocking the passage to the south. These mountains were different from the rounded bluffs that they had encountered on the Chang Thang, they rose from the plateau with a sudden upheaval, like a gigantic wave rising suddenly on a calm ocean. Their jagged tops were capped with snow. At their base was a maze of huge boulders, big as houses, where one could wander helplessly for days without finding a point of egress. Their lower slopes were slabs of sheer rock, too steep to provide lodgement to any tree or plant. About half way up the mountain a wide ledge ran along the cliff face like a broad berm, wide enough for five persons to walk abreast, Mary Joe and Lobsang had reached the northern slopes of the Nyenchen thagla. On the far side far the mountains lay the verdant valley of the Kyi chu andthe holy city of Lhasa. All that had to do reach their goal was to cross the mountains.
They had climbed on to a small hill to reconnoitre the country. This was something that they did every morning before proceeding further.
"Lobsang, we should not have let Pasang go."
"I know, I also share your misgivings. You are afraid he might somehow get back and tell the Chinese about us."
"I am certain he will do that. Why did you let him go Lobsang. ?We should have broken his fat neck, or at least one of his legs, so he wouldn't have been able to walk."
''If we had done that he would have died. And it is always better to spare a life if one can. After all, all beings desire to live."
"I know, but is it wise to mix up religion in this. We have a job to do, if someone tries to block us, we have to eliminate him, its as simple as that."
"No it isn't as simple as that. The end does not justify the means. Killing is justified only in self defence and I could not bring myself to kill Pasang in cold blood, even though I knew he might cause trouble for us later. Besides, you said the same thing at that time, remember. But look, army trucks!"
Mary Joe saw on the distant horizon a row of grey army trucks. There were also Chinese army jeeps in the convoy. Presently they saw the vehicles head off in different directions. One of the trucks came towards them, but then it stopped a long way away and soldiers got down from it. They had a dog on a leash and were obviously looking for someone or something. It could only mean one thing. Pasang had done his job, and the hunt was on.
"We have to get away from here, and fast," said Lobsang. There was only one way they could go, to the east, parallel to the base of the mountains and keeping close to the wild and broken terrain, which offered them some cover. Lobsang looked wistfully at the wide ledge, far up on the cliff face. If somehow, they could get up there, they would be safe from the dogs. There they could hide till the heat was off and then get down from the mountain and resume their journey. But he could see no way of climbing the sheer rock. It would have been a difficult climb even with ropes and pitons, but without any climbing equipment it was impossible.
They walked thus for more than an hour, keeping an eye on the rock face, in case there was a viable way of climbing it. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, they saw steps leading up the cliff. These were merely rough indentations in the rock but they were steps right enough, easy enough to climb if you set your mind to it. Someone had, with great labour, and infinite patience, hacked the steps out of the rock. They turned their eyes upwards to the ledge and saw that the rock face over the ledge was honeycombed with caves of different sizes. Some of these caves were walled up, with just a small opening left in the wall. Half way up to the ledge, the steps ended. The rest of the climb had to be traversed by way of a rope ladder that hung down from the ledge.
The steps cut into the rock and the rope ladder signified that people lived on the ledge. But who could live there for any length of time without any water or food or any visible means of subsistence. "Do people live in those caves, Lobsang?"
"Yes there are monks who live in these caves."
"But why, I mean why not in a monastery."
"When you have reached a certain stage in your spiritual development, further progress is impossible without complete solitude and detachment."
"But how do these monks survive in these caves. Sure they also need food and water, no matter how spiritually evolved they may be."
"Of course, but food and water is brought to them by a helper or a friend, who is usually a person from a nearby village. Come with me, I will show you."
Mary Joe walked around the base of the rocks, looking up at the caves. Lobsang pointed to a basket hanging by a rope from a small opening in a walled up cave. "There! do you see that basket. That is how food and water is sent up to these meditating sages. But the Chinese, they have no respect even for these inoffensive beings. I know of several caves in the Kham province which were desecrated by Chinese soldiers. They entered these caves and dragged out the hermits, many of whom had not even seen proper daylight for several years, and just shot them in cold blood. But let us not waste any more time. Our best bet is to take shelter in one of these caves. We can only hope the Gyami will not think of looking for us here."
Lobsang took out his snuff box, which like many of his countrymen he carried on his person and retracing his steps the same way that they had come, he sprinkled some of the snuff on the ground.
"What do you think you-are doing Lobsang?"
"Just a precaution Mai Hoe. The snuff will wipe out our smell and thus mislead the dogs."
Then they climbed the steps and the rope ladder and were-soon on the ledge running across the cliff face. Lobsang led the way. He bypassed the first two caverns, which were almost completely bricked up, only a small opening being left for food and water to be sent in. "It wouldn't be right to disturb these hermits. They may be deep in meditation. They may be close to enlightenment. Think what a crime it would be disturb the profound tranquillity of such a man, it may nullify years of spiritual training," he explained. Finally they came across a cavern, much larger than others, which was quite open. Within the cavern, a hermit sat cross legged, staring straight ahead, as if looking out for strangers whose arrival was expected. He was a thin man with a wisp of a beard, but with a tremendous presence. Without saying a word, he signalled to Lobsang and Mary Joe to sit down. Then he took out a clay pipe which he kept in the folds of his thin robe and taking out a live coal from the ashes of a fire which was still smouldering, he lit the pipe and drew deeply at it. After exhaling the smoke which ascended upwards in a straight line, so still was the air within the cavern, he passed the pipe onto Lobsang, who drew at it in the same fashion.
The pipe was passed thus from the hermit to the monk and back again, the two men smoking in companionable silence for a while. Then the hermit spoke in a curiously deep voice, "what brings you here my children, to the lonely dwelling of one who has forsaken the world?"
"The Gyami are looking for us father. We need a place where we can hide for a few days. And we need to find a way to get across the mountains, quickly."
"The Gyami are after you, are they. This means that you, my son, are at least living up to the responsibilities of your holy order. Come with me!"
The hermit took them further inside the cave. The cavern was much larger then they had imagined, it went back a long way into the mountainside and as they penetrated deeper into its recesses it became quite dark inside. At length they came to a small aperture in the wall, an opening only large enough to crawl through. The hermit lit a juniper torch and led the way, crawling through the opening. The tunnel, for so it seemed to Lobsang and Mary Joe, led finally to another cavern, quite as large as the chamber they had quit. This cavern was pitch dark, but quite airy, because a keen draught blew through an opening at the far end, which was similar to the tunnel by which they had entered. The lurid beams of the torch showed them that the grotto wherein they stood was a subterranean apartment, apparently used by the hermit as a place of refuge. There was a faint odour of incense there, but none of the musty smell that pervades underground 'apartments and cellars. "This is my meditation chamber. My last refuge, so to speak. You should be quite safe here. Now stay here till we have seen the Chinese through. That is, if at all they think of coming here."
The Chinese were not long in coming. Lobsang and Mary Joe heard their voices raised in argument. They could make out Pasang's sing song snuffle and the gruff voice of sergeant Li-Sung "They must be here, I tell you, they couldn't have been swallowed up by the earth." Said the sergeant.
"No one has been here for days, only my helper who brings me food from the village." This was spoken by the hermit.
"Two people have been smoking here. Look the ash has dropped in two different places. Who was the other person hermit?" Said Pasang.
"Only my helper. No one else has been here I have told you, don't you believe the word of a mendicant. Why would a man of God tell a lie."
"Religion is only a sham, the opium of the masses, devised by the ruling classes to keep them in subjection. I don't believe you old man. Pasang, search the cavern."
They heard the footsteps of the Chinese soldier resounding on the stony floor of the cavern. The footsteps were coming nearer. The Chinese soldiers, or the snoopy Pasang, had seen the tunnel and they were going to enter the cavern. "Quick Mai Hoe, let us go into the other tunnel. The Chinese are going to come here." They crawled through the tunnel that led away from the chamber, at the far end. This tunnel was much smaller and they had to force their passage with difficulty, lying flat on their stomachs and pushing along with their elbows. When they found further progress impossible, they just lay there silently, hoping that the Chinese will not think of looking into the farther tunnel.
"What is this chamber old man?'' they heard the sergeant ask the hermit.
"Only my meditation chamber, my spiritual retreat. I told you there was no one here. You are wasting your time."
But the Chinese were not convinced. The sergeant poked his head into the tunnel sniffing the air like a dog. "All right then, If there is anyone there in the tunnel, you'd better come out because we are going to fire into the tunnel. I will count upto three and then we will fire. He then slid the barrel of his rifle along the stone floor of the tunnel the chink of metal on stone sounding unnaturally loud. All right. One ..."
There was dead silence. The hermit wondered what the two people hiding inside the tunnel were going to do. He could not allow the sergeant to shoot at them, that was for sure. They would have absolutely no chance of surviving in the pitch dark cave and dodging a volley of bullets in the narrow confines of the chamber.
''Two ......."
Still there was no sound. The silence was so-intense you could hear the slightly wheezy breathing of Pasang as he stood alongside the sergeant. The hermit decided that he would tell the soldiers that there were two people inside the cavern, and he would ask the brave girl and the lama to surrender to the Chinese. That was the only thing to do. He was going to speak to the sergeant when there was a voice that spoke from within the tunnel.
"Don't shoot, we want to come out."
"All right, come out with your hands up and no tricks, or you will get a bellyful of lead."
Lobsang and Mary Joe crawled out of the cave, keeping their hands before heads. As both of them rose painfully to their feet they were immediately surrounded by a group of soldiers, and manacles were snapped on to their hands.
"So, my suspicions were right after all. I was wondering who this dropka woman was, who spoke mandarin like a college girl. You were clever, but not so clever as you think, You Tibetans, should realize that you can never really match wits with the Chinese. We have been your masters for thousands of years and we shall remain your masters for another thousand years if we choose."
The two prisoners said nothing. But the sergeant, enjoying the sense of power that came from the presence of seven armed soldiers and two apparently helpless prisoners, stepped in again. "Call on your Lord Buddha now monk, let us see if your prayers have any power against Chinese guns."
Pasang, fidgeting with his outsize cap chuckled loudly, the other soldiers snickered, the hermit stared stonily at the soldiers.
Ignoring the sergeant's bluster, Mary Joe and Lobsang took stock of their situation. They were both trained fighters, skilled in the use of their body as a weapon, and though they were handicapped by the manacles on their hands, they could still use their feet, their knees and their heads as weapons of attack. There were six soldiers with the sergeant, excluding Pasang, whom they counted as a non-combatant. All the six were armed with Chinese made AK-47 assault rifles. On paper the odds against them were formidable, but one major factor in their favour was the fact that they were in the closed confines of a cave where the soldiers would hesitate to use their rifles for fear of hitting each other. None of them had revolvers or pistols which would have been more useful in the enclosed space, and short range. A bullet fired from the high-speed rifle would ricochet on the walls of the stony cavern, and a ricocheting bullet could hit anyone.
So Lobsang looked at Mary Joe and a silent message passed between them. Mary Joe made the first move. Suddenly her face contorted with a spasm of pain and she sank down to the floor, sitting on her haunches with her head bent down. "Its my stomach," she said in Chinese. He hand-cuffed hands stretched out in front of her, her head bent low, her voice quavering with pain, she made a truly pathetic picture, that seemed for a second, convincing even to Lobsang. Two Chinese soldiers bent down to raise her to her feet. As they did so, their heads came together and that was when Mary Joe, with the suddenness of a torpedo breaking surface, rose to her feet. Her head butted into the down turned faces of the two Chinese soldiers with a sickening crack and the two men collapsed at once, clutching their faces, blood pouring out of smashed noses and cut lips. Before the others could react, two vicious drop kicks downed two other soldiers.
Just as Mary Joe was wreacking havoc, Lobsang with a menacing yell charged the remaining soldiers jumping up and kicking out with his feet, like an gymnast exercising on the rings. The sides of his feet, smashed into the necks of the two soldiers, dropping them cold in their tracks. That left only Pasang and the sergeant, lurking at the back, and both of them ran out of the cave. When they were out of the cave, the sergeant turned back with his carbine aimed at the cave, but then thought better of it and went on running. It was too risky to lose time in firing, and he could hit his own soldiers instead of the enemy. It wasn't worth the risk to stop and fire back.
The Chinese soldiers in the cave were quickly disarmed by the hermit, who also assisted Mary Joe and Lobsang in freeing themselves from the hand cuffs. The hand cuffs were then clapped on the wrists of the Chinese. The rest of the soldiers were tied up with their own shirts and vests. Mary Joe and Lobsang quickly changed into the uniform of the soldiers, taking their rifles with them. Then they walked out of the cave with the hermit.
They stopped only when they had reached the shelter of a thicket of trees many miles from the cave. They couldn't light a fire to cook as that would be a dead give away. So the hermit went foraging in the forest and brought to them some blackberries of a deep purplish colour that had a pleasant taste. "What are these berries father?" Asked Mary Joe.
"These are black berries that grow quite abundantly hereabouts. Milarepa used to subsist almost entirely on these and there are times when I have spent days eating nothing but these berries. But that is a hermit's diet. You have no need to starve yourselves. You have far to go."
"Is there a way over these mountains, into the valley of the Kyi Chu, father?" Asked Lobsang.
"Only through the pass of Karo La."
"Is there no other way?"
"None. Even the chiree can't climb the sheer rocks that lead to the crests of the Nyenchen thagla. You would need the wings of the eagle to go over these crags, my son.''
"What about the pass, is it well guarded?"
"It is guarded night and day. You will find the Gyami all over the place. They have broadened the road so that even army trucks can now go over the pass. But there is little civilian traffic. No caravans, as there used to be in the old days, and no pilgrims crossing in small parties or alone."
"I see, in that case I don't see how we can ever get across. Do you see a way out of this Mai Hoe?"
"Not yet, but give me time to think. There must be a way out, and if there is, I will find it."
"You are strong in resolution my child, and right resolution, it is said, is half the battle. Remember the words of the Buddha, when he sat down under the Bodhi tree to find enlightenment, 'under this tree shall I sit and meditate until I find the truth. My goal is the truth and nothing less than the truth, and I shall not rise from my seat and give up my quest without success, even though my bones melt and my flesh dissolve and my entire being be reduced to a heap of dust.' 0f course we know that he found enlightenment that very night and the kingdom of ignorance and darkness was ended forever. Such is the power of right resolution."
"Thank you father, you have given me fresh strength. Where are you from father?"
"A mendicant has no place of residence or any father or mother my child!"
"I mean which monastery are you from."
"I am from the monastery of Sera, which lies across the mountains, not far from here. But is a long time since I was there."
They talked thus late into the night. Mary Joe dreamt of army convoys passing over the mountains, of avalanches and landslides, and of being captured by the Chinese and being tortured in a narrow, dark, chamber. lmmediately on waking, she had a question for the hermit, "tell me father, have you been over the mountains, through the pass of Karo La?"
"Yes, many a time.
"Supposing you were to travel over the pass in a truck as a part of a convoy. Do you know of a place where the track passes between two sides of the mountain. This place should be on top of a slope, with a further slope on the far side, so that only one truck could pass through it at a time."
"Of course, there is such a place right at the foot of the pass. It is a narrow defile with a sharp slope at both ends. All vehicles passing through the defile have to slow down and go through it one at a time."
"What are you getting at, Mai Hoe." Asked Lobsang.
"Lobsang, it seems to me, the only way to get into Lhasa is in a Chinese army truck. No one will think of looking for us in an army truck. Any other way, and we are sure to be caught I am only trying to work out the right place for an ambush. Once we have the truck with us, we can join the convoy and get through the dragnet. Right."
''Well, it certainly sounds plausible."
"It all depends on whether there is sufficient movement of convoys over the pass. From what father has told us, this keeps happening. If this is true, then we only have to station ourselves at the defile and ambush the last truck in the convoy."
It was late in the evening when they saw the convoy rumbling up the mountain road. It was a small convoy, having only three trucks. These trucks were the three-tonners used by the Chinese army for mountain terrain, painted in grey army camouflage. They trundled up the incline, their diesel engines roaring with the strain. Lobsang and Mary Joe waited for the first two trucks to pass. The trucks came up the incline one at a time, paused over the flat top for a while and then rolled down the slope at the far end. When the third truck had come over the incline and paused at the flat bed of the defile a big rock rolled down the mountain and came to rest in front of the truck. The driver climbed down from his cabin to remove the stone but could not shift the heavy rock.
"Damn, I can't move the rock. Its too bloody heavy. Give me a hand sergeant, will you."
The PLA sergeant who sat in the cabin also descended and bent down to shift the rock. It was then that both the soldiers were hit a chopping blow on the back of their necks by hidden assailants and both passed out without making any sound or seeing the faces of their assailants. After they were expertly bound and gagged, their bodies were thrown into the back of the truck and now Lobsang and MaryJoe, in the uniform of the PLA, took charge of the truck and soon joined the rest of the convoy in its journey up the pass of Karo La.
They reached the pass after driving for almost an hour over a twisting track hacked out of sheer rock. The mountain road was a marvel of engineering, going over terrain that was thought to be negotiable only by mule packs. At the gates of the pass the convoy halted at the check post. It was guarded by a heavy detachment of soldiers. There were machine gun emplacements in the cliffs commanding the pass and sand-bagged bunkers all around. They paused here to allow soldiers to load sacks of grain in the leading truck. It was slow work. Sack-loads were brought to the truck and off loaded at the back. The driver of the first truck had got down from his cabin and was joking with the soldiers. Mary Joe and Lobsang kept sitting in their truck, hoping that no one will come their way. But the driver of the first truck walked past the waiting trucks towards them. He was coming to their truck. He stopped below the driver's cabin and looked up at Lobsang.
"Hello, comrade Yu, let me have a cigarette, will you, one of the brown ones that you smoke."
Lobsang fumbled in his pockets, inwardly cursing the driver. If they couldn't find the cigarettes the game was up. But Mary Joe looked in the glove compartment and found the half crumpled packet of cigarettes. Without a word, Lobsang handed over the packet to the driver, who took one cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply before returning the packet. Lobsang just hoped he would not start a conv-ersation or look too closely at him or Mary Joe. He didn't. After lighting his cigarette the driver walked away in the direction of his own truck, which had now been loaded. He got into his cabin and started the engine. A posse of soldiers climbed into the second truck. There was lot of joshing and jiving, as there is when soldiers get together. Some of. the stragglers started walking towards the last truck. Mary Joe and Lobsang looked at each other. If the soldiers tried to get into the back of the truck they would see their comrades, lying there, trussed up like chicken. They would then have no choice but to knock them out as well. It would have to be done silently, ruthlessly, and efficiently. And they would have to hope that no one saw them. If the others saw their comrades being attacked, all hell would break loose.
They waited tensely, hearts hammering. Luck was, however, on their side. The soldiers were called back, in the nick of time by their friends in the second truck. "Come back boys, there is enough room for all of you here."
"Yeah, and for a few girls as well."
So the rest of the soldiers also got into the second -truck and they were finally off.
On they went through the bleak defile that was the Karo la pass, driving between forbidding crags, whose summits were flecked with snow. The pass wasn't long, it was just a short saddle between two mountains. As they reached the far side the horizon suddenly widened. It was like coming out of a tunnel. They found themselves looking down at a vast amphitheatre, though which flowed a wide river whose banks were masked with green verdure. The river made a semi-circle around a large town, that was dominated by a huge palace standing on a hill.
Lobsang, on seeing the palace and the town shouted with joy, " look Mai Hoe! The Potala, the home of the Gylwa Rinpoche, and the sacred town of Lhasa." Like all good Tibetans he wanted to stop here and make an obeisance towards the home of the God King, but under the circumstances this was clearly impossible.
But Mary Joe didn't need to be told that she was looking at the Potala. Even in the middle distance, its vast size its fortress like inward sloping walls, its thousands of windows framed in distinctive black window surrounds and the golden finials on its roof were unmistakable. It was a building that inspired not only awe but reverence. Though the Dalai Lama no longer stayed there and Tibet was ruled not from the Red Place within the Potala but from the Forbidden City in Beijing, its massive walls still soared upwards in defiance, the symbol of a faith that can not die.
