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

Chapter 2: Part 2: The twelve pilgrims wait for the rainstorm near Choku.

They watched the approaching rainstorm, seated patiently, humming the prayer hymns, led by their holy man. The twelve pilgrims continued to sit inside the circle of stones, watching the dusk taking over the landscape. The last of the pilgrims rushed towards to Dirapuk Gompa and could be seen scampering over the stony landscape, hoping to obtain some safe shelter for the night. The pilgrim trial was totally deserted now. One could hear and smell the rain at a distance, and the low evening winds brought with them the threat of the night. The twelve pilgrims did not move from their seated circle. They sat out in the open and did not make any attempt to prepare a tent or a temporary shelter.

The youngest monk, Brother Tamang, at the Choku monastery could not get away from the window. The senior Master had not allowed them to light up the windows. The young monk kept watching the group of twelve pilgrims seated on the higher trail. They had not lit up any lamps and seemed to sit by patiently, waiting for the darkness that was fast approaching. If he had not known that they were seated at that spot, the young monk could not have spotted them, even if he were to search for them. He could just make out the huddle of heads, with their fur caps, in a small group, in silhouette against the shimmer of the early drizzle of rain that had begun to strike the slopes between Choku and Dirapuk. The group of twelve pilgrims just sat there, without moving.

The old Tibetan guide, Dawa, sat near the window, with the senior Master. They had lighted two candles near a small statue of Buddha and were praying. The other young monk had lighted two candles near the other small statue of Buddha at the other end of the prayer hall. He was praying quietly. Dawa sat up straight and chatted with the senior Master, “We are the privileged, though we are by ourselves. You have the sacred duty, day after day, night after night, to worship the most enlightened one, in the form of the Buddha statue from Garsha. We are truly blessed.”

The three monks bowed in prayer at this statement by Dawa, in his reference to the Buddha statues from Garsha. Master Rinchen, the senior monk, nodded and said, “O Dawa, my old friend, you are correct. We are truly blessed. But yet, it is an incomplete blessing. If only we know of the other three statues, it would have been a complete blessing. There were five statues of Garsha. We have only one here. It is said that there is another one, in Garsha. Three statues have been lost and nothing is known of their whereabouts. The statue that my brother monk prays to is the only one left in Choku.”

The youngest monk, Brother Tamang, knew of the story of the Buddha statues from Garsha. After all, he was himself from the Tibetan villages near Nyalam, on the border with Nepal. Some temples dedicated to the Buddha in these villages were also dedicated to the stories of the Amitabha Buddha and the stories of the Buddha from Garsha. It was said that the five statues had been found in a lake of milk at Garsha, south of Nyalam and Nepal and also south of Sikkim. The monks at Garsha had brought them out to Bhutan some years ago when the monastery at Choku was under the threat of destruction. The monastery was rebuilt about twenty-five years ago, and one of the statues of the Buddha from Garsha was brought back to Choku.

Brother Tamang kept watching the spot where he knew the twelve pilgrims were seated out in the open. He wondered what they had planned to do or what were they expecting to happen in a stormy night. Dawa looked at Brother Tamang, and said, “Brother, its no use. We simply do not know what happens out there. They sit it out on a stormy night. They are never seen in the entire region before the stormy night is predicted. The moment we know that such a non-seasonal heavy hailstorm is to come, this group makes its appearance on the pilgrim trail. And, in the morning, they are gone. Without a clue and without any explanation that we can understand.”

“There has to be some explanation. There has to be some reason. It cannot happen each time without any logic. We are missing something. We have to do something. What can it be? It must have been planned to happen in this manner. Its happening right out there in front of us,” said Brother Tamang in exasperation, watching the pilgrims out in the trail.

It had started raining heavily. The dusk had come and gone. The twelve pilgrims continued to sit it out at the circle of stones. Quietly, they had pulled out black-coloured plastic sheets from their bags, and covered themselves. In an instant, their silhouette had changed. The fur hats were no longer visible and the twelve could not be seen as separate individuals. The black plastic sheets covering them made them look like the rest of the circle of stones that they sat within. The humming of the prayer hymn could not be heard unless one stood within the group, and their holy man was continuing to spin the prayer drum in his hand.

There was no other conversation amongst them. They sat huddled next to each other, not seeming to get affected by the chill and the cold winds that moved about with the rain. The skies lighted up occasionally with lightning hitting the high peaks. Kang Renpoche seemed to light up that much brighter in the rain. The circle of stones had been set up around heavily packed and beaten down clayey earth. The pilgrims had laid down heavy plastic sheets on the ground before they sat for the night. It seemed like the twelve pilgrims were used to this sharp winter-like winds and heavy monsoon. Not a single individual amongst them had sneezed or sniffled or coughed.

Up at the Choku Monastery, the young monk, Brother Tamang, had guessed that the twelve pilgrims must have covered themselves with plastic sheets to sit it out through the night in the rainstorm. He looked around the dimly lit prayer hall in the monastery. The marble statue of Amitabha Buddha stood serenely near the pair of elephant tusks. The light of the candles kept playing with the shadows of the prayer hall and seemed to cause the statue of Amitabha Buddha to talk to Brother Tamang. He kept looking devoutly at the statue, and looking back at the spot where the twelve pilgrims would be sitting out in the open.

Brother Tamang came to a decision. He said, “Master, you are my teacher, and you speak for the elders in our order. The three of us have been staying at our monastery for the past few years. We have been taught to be truthful in our path. It is in the knowledge of the unknown that we seek our goals. Master, you have said that this has happened at least three times during the period of your stay at our monastery here. In all these three times, we do not know what is happening in front of our windows. This is our holy ground, and the Kang Renpoche is the abode of our gods.”

Master Rinchen feared what was to come, for he could understand the glint and sharpness of Brother Tamang’s eyes. He had seen him looking at the statue of Amitabha Buddha, and had guessed that the young monk had sought resolve. The Master replied, “My young brother, I know you from when you had come to our temple for your initiation. I know your dedication and I can understand you even before you can understand yourself. Pray tell, what is it that you wish to?”

The young monk bowed in gratitude, and said, “Yes, O Master. You do understand me well. We have a situation here, near our monastery that we do not know anything about. And we have left our houses and families to join our temple in search of that knowledge that is difficult to understand and that knowledge which is essential to understand. The Most Enlightened One had taught us over these many hundreds of years that it is he who is the emperor who knows that he has no empire, but is on the path to knowledge, and is always seeking it. We have a riddle here, right outside the windows of our monastery, and we do not try to seek an explanation.”

Master Rinchen and Dawa nodded in agreement at the wisdom of the younger monk. They could understand the clarity that he must have received from the magic of the guardian of the Choku monastery. Brother Tamang continued, “We should go out there in the rain. We should not be frightened of the rainstorm. We are used to the rain, the cold, the winds and the trails near our monastery. The group sitting out there does not know what we know. They do not know that we have been watching them and that we have observed them on the earlier occasions. They do not know that we know the higher and lower trail and that we are very familiar with the slopes near our monastery. We can walk about in this region in utter darkness. And what do we have to fear? We should go out there and try to find out what happens in this rainstorm and in the darkness of the night. Why do these pilgrims disappear on such a night? Master Naropa will protect us.”