The Mystery of the Kailash Trail - Chapter 2 - Part 3

Chapter 2: Part 3: The yaks that walked the stormy night in the Lhachu valley.

Master Rinchen did not much like the idea of interrupting the flow of life, the sequence of events, known and unknown, logical and mysterious, strange and familiar or the godly or ungodly nature of developments that always seemed to happen around the Kang Renpoche. These sorts of events were meant to happen, he felt. He spoke in a low voice to the young monk, “Brother, I understand your quest for knowledge. But this is the wonderful and unknown world of the great mountain where the Most Enlightened One arrived with thousands of arahats and yet declared that there was much to know and understand about this place. It is not for us to disturb the way of events in this world. We cannot seek knowledge by participating in it.”

“There are numerous caves in this magical Lhachu valley in the shadow of the Kang Renpoche that holds many siddhas, saints, holy spirits, demons or dakhinis. We do not know who is who. They seek their own goals and they do not enquire into the lives or questions of any other. They have been here for several years. It is said that some have been here for more than a hundred years,” said the Master, and continued, “Who are we to dispute what is said about these beings and souls and spirits in these mountains of the Lhachu valley? We stay here under the protection of the holy presence of the manifestation of the Dharmakaya Amitabha Buddha. Nobody disturbs us. It is in our responsibility to avoid disturbing the way of life and the manner of events that abound in this valley.”

Brother Tameng bowed in respect. He could understand the need to restrain one’s impulses in this land of the holiest among all religions. Who knew what particular ritual were those pilgrims here to undertake? They would perhaps be of another religion. He would be wrong to have gone and disturbed them. But what if there was to be sacrilege of the holy mountain and the sacred valley? Should he keep his patience and restrain himself? What if they were terrorists? Should he keep quiet? This was a strange and violent world nowadays. It could also be the Han Chinese, camping here to spy on the kora or to cause an unpleasant event that would bring a bad name to the monasteries in the Lhachu valley.

No. It was not to be. He would have to request the Master’s permission to disobey him. He looked once again out to the high trail, out in the valley. The rains were getting to be heavier, and one could hear the thunder, rolling out slowly at a far distance. At times, shards of lightning brightened up the skies far into the mountains. Try as he could, he was not able to spot the circle of stones or the pilgrims. The wind was getting much colder and it would be absolutely death to anyone who would wander out amongst the stones and the streams in this night. The waters would be freezing faster than it could flow on the ground, and it would be extremely slippery.

The young monk spoke out, “Master, forgive me, for it is in your knowledge about me that you would be aware of my desire to be absolutely sure in finding out the truth. We need to know. It may be of anothers’ religion and it may be a ritual that we should not disturb. But, what is it that is different from each other in this valley. We are all seekers of the same truth here, in the shadow of the Kang Renpoche, waiting the turn of events as they happen. The hundreds of pilgrims who come here, do so in their faith in our presence and that we would not allow the passing of time to change this place and destroy their opportunity to offer their prayers. What if these pilgrims sitting out there in the rain, are wrong, or bad, or evil or demonic? We need to know.”

Master Rinchen nodded in agreement, and replied, “I have to agree with you, young one. You are of the new generation, and it is your world that you take care. I am only a custodian to allow you to take control of your inheritance. I cannot deny you the knowledge. But let there be another way to do this. You take my old friend, Dawa, with you. I cannot allow you to do this alone. I know that the two of you know these slopes and can make your way to the circle of stones in this dark night. We will light up these windows after a while, to allow you to seek your direction to return safely. Go safely, and go quietly. We do not know what is happening out there. I have not been able to seek the answers in the years that I have been here, and it has already happened thrice. These are the three occasions that we saw. Who knows how many times it has happened otherwise?”

Dawa brightened up at this opportunity to go out in the rain and seek answers to what was to happen out there in the night. He had missed out on the previous three occasions and wondered if he was to carry this ignorance to his grave. This was his world out there. The unknown was not to happen in the known world of the kora and in this valley. He was the owner of the kora, he felt. He was one of the oldest guides on the pilgrim trail. His father had done the same, and so had his grand father. Not a single man in his family had ever owned any property. They had lived their lives in makeshift huts, tents, and sheds or eked it out in the monasteries. Their women had worked in the guesthouses, monasteries and eateries. The trail was his world.

They got ready to go out in the rainstorm. The old pilgrim guide picked up black coloured nylon rainproof jackets and track pants. The young monk draped a black coloured nylon coat over his robes. They left the monastery building and stood in the compound, to get a feel for the rain pouring heavily onto the cobbled grounds. From the high walled compound, they climbed down the stairs and began to get comfortable with the night. It was not a strange outing for them. The two of them were used to wandering off in the night together to seek a good spot to sit and watch the Kang Renpoche. Those outings had taken place on clear nights or full moon nights. They had walked out in drizzles and had occasionally got caught in sudden cloudbursts. They knew their way around these slopes.

Leaving the monastery’s stairs, they walked up the slope along the shadow of the monastery, on the other side of the Dirapuk path. They climbed to a higher trail that they knew of on the slopes facing the Lhachu valley. It felt safer to be on higher ground and to be walking a trail that they were familiar with. Upon reaching the path, they began walking steadily towards the circle of stones. They knew that the path permitted them to avoid being detected. There were some boulders and stones that had fallen this year and it would allow them to reach a safe spot above the location of the pilgrims seated out there in the rain. Perhaps they could stay back on the higher trail and keep a quiet watch over what was to happen, if it had not already occurred.

It took them about thirty minutes to reach thereabouts. It felt right, thought Dawa that they were almost above the circle of stones. He pulled at the young monk’s robe to stop him. They sat down amongst the stones there, to get their eyes to make out the boulders and the slopes downward to the other trail. It took some time but they could only barely make out the nearest stones. Dawa kept examining each stone pile in detail, trying to rule out those that could not be the ones that they were seeking. Brother Tameng, on his part, was working on a different strategy. He thought he knew the location. He had been intently searching out landmarks at these slopes from when he had been standing at the window of the monastery. There was an old stone stupa that had two prayer flags from the previous years. He had measured that the circle of stones was in direct line from the stone stupa to the hill stream that flowed near the lower trail.

They walked down carefully to the stone stupa, with the rain drowning out any noise that would have been otherwise very loud and disturbing in this serene valley on another night. There was a low wall around the stupa, and they made themselves comfortable next to the stone structure, on the other side of the heavy rain pouring down upon them. There was some respite here, and they sat together, silently, waiting and watching. Dawa pointed out suddenly, and they could now make out, about a hundred footfalls away, the circle of stones could be barely seen. There was a huddle of stone-like shapes inside the circle, too close to each other, unlike the other stones on the slopes. These would be the pilgrims, thought Brother Tameng, huddled under plastic sheets.

Dawa grabbed Brother Tameng’s arm and gestured in awe towards the lower slopes. They watched in silence and amazement. The skies parted above, in a flash of lightning, and they could see clearly for a brief instant. They had never seen anything like it before. It was a yak herd, walking slowly, in a small bunch, moving ahead purposefully. There was no sound and they did not seem like any yak from the valley. These were large animals, with very low hanging hair. Their heads were held high, watching ahead, unlike what the other domestic yak would have done in such heavy rain. There must have been more than ten yaks, Dawa thought. These animals were walking in this heavy rain, and walking steadily and silently, as if on purpose, to some destination.