The Mystery of the Kailash Trail - Chapter 1 - Part 3

Chapter 1 – Part 3: The Buddhist monk and the Sikh Pilgrim at Darchen

The lone Chinese policeman at the roadside eatery outside Darchen on this stormy night wondered about the odd couple sitting by themselves at a dining table hidden away from the wood-fire.  A Buddhist monk and a Sikh sitting together certainly looked very suspicious in this heartland of western Tibet. As if the recent riots were not the end of troubled days, he wondered about what these two strange and unlikely companions were talking about. Better to make sure, he thought, and gestured for the eatery owner to come across.

It was an eatery, a store, and a safe house for pilgrims’ travel and camping equipment, a parking space for rent for vehicles and also had a ramshackle shed alongside that doubled up as a stable for yaks, ponies, horses and mules. Every activity of this eatery was illegal, thought the Chinese policeman. But, every service provided by this eatery was an essential life support system in these hostile lands of Darchen, the gateway to the Lake Manasarovar and Mount Kailash, as the waves of Hindu pilgrims from India kept reminding him.

The eatery owner came up to the policeman and smiled, for he had to, and asked, “O Shenshe, would you have some more hot soup and grilled bacon? We made a new bowl just now.” The policeman nodded, for the hot soup would be very welcome in this night that promised of a storm, a strong windy hailstorm possibly, tomorrow. The soup would help him get through this night. He could not go into the town of Darchen in this rain. He had brought his bicycle inside the eatery to prevent it from being blown away. Or stolen, he smiled, by the poor Tibetan pilgrims from the neighbouring valleys.

The cycle was propped up against a steel-black hummer with Lhasa number plates. The sleek 4-wheel turbo enhanced vehicle had been brought inside the eatery to prevent it from being damaged by the hailstorm. There were two land rovers parked close to the hummer. The dining tables had been moved aside to allow for the vehicles to be brought inside for protection. The eatery owner would be paid for the service, would be paid handsomely.

The policeman nodded towards the Buddhist monk and the Sikh pilgrim sitting away from the others in the dining hall. The eatery owner understood the policeman’s unspoken question and shouted out to the Buddhist monk, “O Master, do come over here, into the warmth of the wood fire. I will get you some hot soup and rice with curried potatoes. Shenshe here, our policeman friend is about to take a new bowl of soup, and he can do with some advice and guidance from you. Get your friend from India also to sit near the fire. We will get him some more food.”

To his surprise, the Buddhist monk and the Sikh pilgrim came over without a word of protest and without any delay. They came over to Shenshe’s dining table, if it was to be called that. The table was actually a long plank of thick wood, covered with a plastic sheet nailed to it with card paper. The plank was resting on stone blocks on either end. There were lower stone blocks on both sides of the plank to serve as chairs. For Shenshe, the eatery owner had provided some luxury. He had covered the stone block with a pile of clothes to serve as a cushion.

To his further surpise, Shenshe realized that the Buddhist monk was a stranger. For he knew most of the monks in the region, and this Buddhist monk was certainly not from the Darchen or Shiquanhe area. His robes were also different. So he was not from any of the local monasterial orders. The Sikh seemed to be a holy type of pilgrim. This was certainly getting to be very strange, thought Shenshe. He introduced himself to the two holy men, “O Masters, welcome. I am Shenshe, and I am the police custodian of this place and the nearby settlements along this road from Darchen. You two do not seem to be from here. Are you both pilgrims then?”

The Buddhist monk bowed low in greeting and sat at the table. The Sikh holy man also bowed, with his palms together in front of his chest, and took a seat next to the monk. It was the Buddhist monk who answered, “Brother, we greet you with the spirit and friendship of our peoples. Hot food will certainly be welcome. I am Tibetan, but born in India. My grandparents had settled in the sacred land of Bodhgaya and I am a monk from the monastery at Nalanda, where the most enlightened one taught many hundred years ago. My Sikh brother with me is Sardar Amarpal Singhji, from Amritsar, from the holy temple of his people. He hopes to become a holy man of his religion in the future, but for now has come to this land in search for answers about his Master.”

That was certainly a new one, thought Shenshe. He had never heard such a story for an excuse in all his monitoring the local Buddhist monks and their activities. He asked, “It is certainly an honour to be in the presence of two holy men, such as you. What does the Sikh pilgrim seek? And why do you accompany him? Do you also seek answers about the Sikh religion? Why does he seek your help? Why here, of all places, Darchen or the Kang Renpoche, the Kailash Mountain, as he would perhaps call it?”

Pilgrims, local Tibetan vendors and the eatery owner and his wife gathered around the three men, in anticipation of a good story and of allowing the stormy night to pass them by while they heard the Buddhist monk talk, for he had come from the holy land of the most enlightened one. The monk knew what was expected of him, and he gave himself up to the eager faces of everyone waiting to hear him speak. He said, “I do not know much of the religion of my companion, but what I have learnt from him over the past ten days, I cannot but compare the similarities that we seek in our lives, the messages that we are custodians to from our masters before us, and the path that we provide for one and all in our temples, monasteries and sacred places everywhere.”

“My brother from Amritsar comes here to the land of Kang Renpoche, as you know it, the Sumeru Mountain, as he would declare, to visit the monastery of Guru Rinpoche, the Precious One, the Lotus Born, he who is also known as Padmasambhava, a manifestation of the Amitabha Buddha, and was resident below the great mountain. My brother, Sardar Amarpal Singhji, is a holy man from Amritsar, or he will soon be, comes in search of the knowledge about his first Master, Guru Nanakji, who came here many hundreds of years ago. I will allow him to say of his search.”

The Sikh pilgrim spoke in Hindi, and yet all those gathered here understood him, for it was the search in his eyes that helped them realize the sanctity of his words, and he said, “My brothers here, I bow to you, for you are all fortunate, to be in this most sacred of all holy lands. Hindus, Buddhists, Jains, Sikhs, Bon Pos and all Tibetans alike, this land of Kailas, this birth place of the mighty rivers. I come from Amritsar, from the holiest temple of our people, in search of knowledge of my beloved Master, Guru Nanakji. He came here in his journeys, some say he came from Ladakh, and some say he came from Sikkim. Whatever anyone would say, he did come here and stay, and taught of his way of understanding and knowledge to the people.”

“The Tibetan Buddhists have regarded my beloved Master as a saint. The Buddhist followers of that time learnt from his teachings. It is said that he was known as the Rimpoche Nanak Guru of Punjab, and not much is known of this part of his journeys, his third journey also known as his third Udasi when he stayed near the Kang Renpoche. It is said that there would be stone inscriptions in the monasteries and gompas in this area telling us of the journey of my beloved Master. I come in search of such knowledge that would help me speak of his journey here. It is possible that the inscriptions would be in Hindi or my language, the Gurmukhi, and therefore would not have been understood by the local people here.”

The Sikh pilgrim continued, “O brothers, I bow to you, again. Do let me know if you know of those who could help me or guide me. I come in search of knowledge. It is said that my beloved Master helped the local king to reconstruct some damaged monasteries. He was honoured for his help and guidance and teachings given here. There are also those who would say that my beloved Master, Guru Nanakji, the Rimpoche Nanak Guru of Punjab, was the also a manifestation of Padmasambhava himself. There is also the mention that it is perhaps only Guru Nanakji, who actually went up the Sumeru Mountain and returned. This knowledge would perhaps be found in the monastery of Guru Rinpoche, on the path from Tarboche to Dirapuk Gompa and Dolma La.”

So saying, the Sikh pilgrim sat in prayer, and began to recite, “Ek Omkar…”