The Mystery of the Kailash Trail - Chapter 7 - Part 1

Book 2: Chapter 7: Part 1: The two pilgrims speak about Karakul lake and Kongur.

Hariram Maharaj looked at the two pilgrims with wonder and amazement. The Jain monk nodded his head in awe. Strange are the ways of the Gods, he thought to himself. These two pilgrims spoke in a language that seemed like very ancient Pharsi, the singsong manner in which the priests at the temple at Navsari would speak. He did not understand anything but he was familiar with the sounds and the words. He spoke in Hindi to Maharaj, and said, “Praise be to all those who seek the best of their lives here at the Ashtapada. Peace be with all those who seek to come here and meet others from so many other religions.”

Luo Tsering understood the intention behind the words of the Jain monk though he did not understood any Hindi. He asked Maharaj, “Do ask these two pilgrims if they would stay and wait for their colleagues or would they go ahead or return to the Kang Renpoche?” The elder pilgrim seemed to have understood the question, for it was he who replied, “I thank you for your hospitality, my brother, for it was indeed a terrible night that we survived together. It was because of your good, tented eatery here, and the food that we received, as did all the other pilgrims, that we are safe today. It could have easily been a disaster.”

The words of gratitude were welcome to Luo Tsering, for it was rare that he was told that he had done a splendid job. He replied, “Where do you come from, if you are to the west of Ngari? And, you say that you are also west of Tibet? These pilgrims here are from India and they do not know our land the manner in which we do. I am myself not from Shiquanhe. But, this is a good land and we are blessed that these pilgrims come here, each year and we benefit from the trade? Are you also traders in your land? Is there good business in your place?”

The other pilgrims had drifted away, eager to get out of the eatery, and soak up some of the bright sun that was shining down. The Jain monk stayed back near the stove, sitting alongside Hariram Maharaj. The younger monk had not spoken and had kept his silence, but looked extremely at peace, and did not seem to be disturbed by the discussion. The elder pilgrim looked around at his audience, and bowed to show his gratitude and to signal the fact that he did not resent the question about his identity and his nativity.

“We come from a similar place to the Kang Renpoche, and we come to this region in pilgrimage. Our place is near the great lake that you and the Indians know as the Great Karakul. This lake is also like the lakes near the Kang Renpoche, and yet, is similar in not allowing us and the other locals to benefit through any agriculture,” said the elder pilgrim, “Our Lake is below the great mountain ranges, that the Han Chinese and others in the world know as the Pamirs. We live below the shadow of the great Kongur Mountain.”

The pilgrims from India did not respond, and Maharaj continued to wait to hear the rest of the story. They did not know the Karakul Lake and they had not heard of the Kongur Mountain. The Jain monk understood that the story was over, and he replied, “We do not know of these places. But, I do understand that your place is towards Iran from Tibet. And therefore, the use of the strange language and dialect is understandable. How come that you say that your gods are different? The Parsis from Iran in India did not seem to have many gods deep inside mountains.”

Maharaj said, “Yes. The Parsis in India do not have gods that they visit inside or on top of mountains. So how did you say that your religion and way of life is linked to the mountains that are the homes of your gods that you come to visit in the Kang Renpoche? I have never heard of Parsis coming to the Mount Kailash to offer pilgrimage or to pray to Shiva or Buddha. Is it in your religion that you would come to pray to Shiva or Buddha? Or, to Guru Rinpoche?”

“We do not speak the Parsi language and we do not have any ancient Parsi language,” replied the elder pilgrim, “What you heard are words that sound similar to the Parsi or ancient Parsi language that you think that you are familiar with. The Parsis in your land would not understand our language. And, we would not understand their language. It is only that some words and the manner of our speech are similar. That’s all. Nothing else.”

“We did come from Iran and the areas around Afghanistan and the other nations that are in the region to our West. But, we come from a nation that existed much much earlier, and there is no such nation in these times in those regions now,” the elder pilgrim said, “We live in poverty. We are not rich. We live in mud and stone houses. We live in a mixed community with Kirghiz nomads, who live in yurts, and our village exists, in peace, though we do not have money.”

The younger pilgrim stood up and came near the stove, extending his empty soup bowl. Maharaj refilled it quietly, in the manner of a householder feeding guests at his house, rather than in the manner of an eatery. He had quietly included the spicy condiments of an Indian soup and this had made it tastier to the bland soup that the Tibetans were familiar with. The younger pilgrim picked up some fried eatables and went back to sitting alongside his colleague.

The Jain monk spoke, “My brother, what you say is quite fascinating. You seem to be from Iran, and you seem to speak Parsi, and yet you are neither. The travels of your people must have been accomplished hundreds or thousands of years ago. I must speak of this to my friends from the Parsi temples at Navsari. There are many experts in the city and they keep studying the history of their people. They may know something that I do not know.”

“But, I am still curious about why you would leave your other companions on the kora and return? We would not have done so, since we are from India, and our travel permit requires us to travel together and return together. The local police and the customs office at Nyalam would not permit us to travel to other regions,” said the Jain monk, But I guess, it must be since you are from this land. And, you are in Tibet, since you do not seem to be from within China. Are you from China, or are you from Tibet? And why did you leave your companions behind at the kora?”

The elder pilgrim nodded in agreement, and replied, “Yes, my brother, you who seem to be a holy man, we do not need travel papers or permits for travel in our land. We are so ancient, and have ancient traditions and our way of life is the manner of this land, that we do not know the nature of the nations of today. Tibet and China exist today, and in the manner of your nations, India, Nepal and Pakistan, we do not belong to any nation. We are here, because we live here. We do not participate in any political or social activity here. We are neither from China and nor from Tibet.”

“You are all curious about the pilgrims who stayed behind at the kora. It is very simple. They wanted to stay behind. You come from distant lands, and it is in your tradition and in the manner of nations that you are from, and in the manner in which the nation of China exists, that you are allowed to only do the kora around the sacred mountain,” the elder pilgrim continued, “And, therefore, you come all this distance, do the kora, and you leave. But, you never come here, to be a part of this land. You do not come here to stay here, and to live with the sacred mountain. This is what we do. This is our land. This is our mountain. We come here, to live with the mountain.”

“We go back to our villages, and we return. Some of us stay back, and some return. We pray, we do our sacred rituals, and we stay here. Our group will return later,” the elder pilgrim said, “Some of us do the kora, as I and my brother did it this time. I have done it twice earlier. We will return to the great Karakul Lake. As I said earlier, for us, the Kang Renpoche Mountain is more sacred than to any of you. My holy brother from India, I know, you had said that the legend of the Ashtapada Mountain would be the earliest, and we bow to you and to the legend.”

Maharaj was absolutely fascinated. His goal of completing 108 koras was nothing compared to what the elder pilgrim was telling him. He had been living illegally in Shiquanhe, and forever, he seemed to fear that he would be caught and sent back. He made up his mind now, at the words of the elder pilgrim, and said, “Brother, I am very happy to hear what you say. I would also like to stay on the sacred mountain, and keep on doing the kora. I fear the cold for I am from the plains of India. Please tell your people that you can come here, to this eatery of Luo Tsering, and you can always stay here, in your travel to the sacred mountain. I shall do the kora with you the next year, if you would return, and I will wait for you. Truly, this place is tremendous in its magic.”