The Mystery of the Kailash Trail - Chapter 2 - Part 1

Chapter 2: Part 1: The twelve pilgrims who sat out in the open and did not walk the kora

They sat quietly, amidst the rocks, watching the stream of pilgrims walk by, intent in reaching the Dirapuk Gompa before sunset and darkness would cover the valley beyond Guru Rinpoche. The other pilgrims did not notice them and nobody remarked about this group of walkers of the kora. They were about twelve of them together, sitting peacefully, cross-legged, amidst an earlier year’s campsite and its leftover rock-circle. A group of pilgrims with their mules and yaks walking by earlier had seen them cooking their lunch and soup. This group of twelve pilgrims had continued to sit at the same spot since noon.

The group seemed to be waiting. Patiently. They were dressed like the other Tibetan pilgrims who came up the kora and had nothing to distinguish them otherwise. There seemed to be a holy man amongst them, twirling a prayer drum in his hand, and reciting a singsong hymn in a low voice. He would sing a line of the hymn in rhythm with the prayer drum, and the group of pilgrims would repeat the line with the same low volume. Nobody could hear the words but could understand the devotion.

Their clothes were dirtying, unwashed from having worn in over many days. Some of them had fur coats, grubby and smelly. They were all dressed for the bitter cold of the region and were very comfortable in sitting it out in the open. They did not speak within the group. The minimal bags that they carried with them had only absolutely basic requirements. Some of the group had windcheaters and jackets picked up from the flea markets at the other cities and villages that they had walked through.

They did not seem Khampa pilgrims from east Tibet though they were certainly dressed like them. They had not stopped at the tea stall in the makeshift tent earlier where most other pilgrims took a break without fail. These twelve had come through the resting pilgrims at the tea tent, filled up some bottles of water from the buckets kept outside the tent, and had silently walked away towards the Dirapuk Gompa. There were other Tibetan Buddhist pilgrims from east Tibet sitting around in smaller groups near the tea tent, and they had watched this group curiously, for they had not exchanged any greetings. The holy man in the group had not even glanced at the other holy men in the various groups of Tibetan Buddhists resting near the tents.

The twelve were now seated at a distance on higher ground from the pilgrim’s walking path. The Choku monastery could be seen at a distance. The holy man in the group of twelve had remarked that there did not seem to be anybody at the monastery for the windows were dark and one could not see any light from within. They had reached this circle of stones from a higher trail that they had walked on, from the Grachom Ngagye Dorsa. Not many pilgrims preferred to take this trail for it was rumoured to be inauspicious and inhabited by the demons and evil spirits who did not dare to harass the pilgrims on the kora.

The Grachom Ngagye Dorsa, near Sershong Tharchen is one of the few sky-burial places permitted near the Kang Renpoche. It was said to exist for more than thousands of years at the place. The group of twelve pilgrims did not pay any respects at the burial place but merely walked through silently, at a steady pace, choosing the higher trail towards Choku. They were now seated after an hour’s slow walk from the monastery. It would be dark in an hour or earlier if the storm clouds came up faster in this valley. The slow moving water streams would pick up speed and could block the walking trail later. It would become dangerous to walk in the darkness with only the faint light that may be visible from the pilgrim tents on the higher slopes towards Choku. Usually the windows of the Choku monastery were lighted up to help the pilgrims.

It was not so at the Choku monastery. The monks were yet to light up the windows and had come to do so. One of the monks had spotted the group of twelve pilgrims sitting at the circle of stones on the higher trail from Choku towards Dirapuk. A rainstorm was sure to come pouring down the pilgrim’s path, and it could be a hailstorm tonight. Most pilgrims were walking by at a rapid pace. Some groups had come up to the monastery and had taken up refuge in the shelters outside. Some pilgrim groups had set up their tents much earlier during the day, fearing the worst. It was therefore a very curious sight to see a group of pilgrims sitting in an open spot, almost seeming to await the rain.

The young monk called for the other two monks to join him at the window and pointed out the group of twelve pilgrims seated out in the open. A younger monk suggested that they should send out one of the Tibetan guides on a mule to go and enquire if the group was in trouble and if they needed help. The senior monk gestured in the negative and kept watching the pilgrims. On an impulse, the senior monk called out to an old Tibetan guide who usually lived near the Choku monastery during the pilgrim season. This old guide, now in his eighties, but very hyper and spirited eighties, came up in a brisk walk to the window, crossing the monastery hall.

The senior monk pointed out the group of twelve pilgrims sitting out in the open to the old Tibetan guide. The old man looked intently at the group and nodded sadly. The other two monks looked on in puzzlement. The youngest one asked, “O Master, what is it that makes you seem so sad? Do you know of that group of foolish pilgrims? Are they going to sit in the rain through the night? Is it their foolishness that makes you sad?”

The senior monk did not answer. Instead, he spoke to the old Tibetan guide, “Dawa, my friend, when was it that we saw such an event earlier? Was it not at the very spot?” The old man nodded, and looked out at the group, intently once again, kept watching for a long time, and replied, “Yes, Master Rinchen. It was so. This seems to happen once in three to five years. It has happened about three times in your time here at Choku.” The senior monk, Master Rinchen, spoke in agreement, “Yes. I have seen it happen three times earlier. It’s usually after a period of three or five years. I wonder how do they decide that it is to be this year, and that it is this time of the year, and that they should select the very same spot.”

The young monks were more puzzled than before. The Master, knowing their unspoken questions about the group of pilgrims, said, “My brothers, this is a very unusual happening. You are seeing it for the first time. Who do you think they are? Can you guess and tell me what is mean to happen today?” The young monk looked out at the group again, and replied, “Master, from their dress and appearance, they seem to be Buddhist Khampa pilgrims from east Tibet. They must be resting or praying together, wanting to witness the gathering of the rain clouds on the great mountain’s peaks. They will probably run in later or set up a tent at that place.”

It was the old Tibetan guide, Dawa, who answered with a sad smile, “No. No. They are not Khampa at all. We have searched the place earlier. They are from someplace else. They are definitely not Tibetan but they go to extreme trouble to dress up like the local Buddhist pilgrims from towards Lhasa. We do not know where they are from. Each time they have appeared, I have spent much time at the circle of stones and in the nearby trails, searching for some sign about them. We do not know where they come from. They sit out through the night at the place and it is usually through a stormy night such as the one that is to come. They know and select the night and come to this spot. In the morning, they are gone. They are never known to go back to Darchen or go forward to Dirapuk. They are not seen on the other trails. They just disappear in the morning. Nobody has seen them in the daytime in any of the local trails, towns or villages.”

“We enquired in the nearby villages. We spoke to the other pilgrim guides, policemen and other pilgrim groups. We asked at the monasteries and other guesthouses along the roads going away from Darchen towards Lhasa. There was no news,” said the elder monk, “It seemed like they had disappeared. We regularly have news of people who try to climb the Kang Renpoche, and they are from all sorts of communities. But, usually, we know about it in advance, and the police outposts get to know from all pilgrim guides and eatery owners from the gossip that they pick up. These adventurers are warned away from climbing the mountain. They are allowed to do the kora and complete their pilgrimage. This is not a tourist destination. Most visitors, who come here, come out of devotion. It is the utmost and ultimate pilgrimage destination. But it is this group that seems to come once in three to five years that is a puzzle. They just disappear from the trail.”