sun is set on her highest point, throwing her warming beams on the polished window ledge, that I open my eyes. Oh my! For sure, I must have slept through the sounds of the bell and the communal prayers that mark the new day at every monastery in the early morning.
I’m rested and refreshed. The drawn-out night has buried the crippling loneliness from yesterday to the uninhabited edges of my mind. It takes me only the blink of an eye to realize I’m a guest in this room and I slept late—ignorantly late. I fold the heavy blankets neatly aside and hasten to the hallway. My bare feet halt at the touch of the polished wood. What a luxury. I squint and look around. Where to go?
“Nordun-la.”
She must have been waiting for me. A heat creeps up my temples as I bow my head in shame at the woman who received me with so much grace last night.
“Ama-la, so sorry,” I say. What must she think of me, such a lazy guest?
“Oh, please.” She chuckles. “We don’t apologize for a well-needed rest here.”
I glance up, and again I’m taken aback by the striking similarity, by how she looks like Tsomo—those eyes, that smile, even that stance.
“And call me Palmo,” she says. She hooks her arm through mine and walks me to the kitchen where I’m served hot tea and crispy fried rolls with a savory filling by a wide-smiled nun, her face the shape and shine of a full moon.
“This is the best breakfast I’ve ever had,” I say, clearing the second helping out of my bowl. “It really is.” My fingers rub the grease from the corners of my mouth and Palmo waves her hand.
“Jomo here is a jewel in the kitchen.” She nods at the nun pottering around the stove. “And an excellent practitioner as well.”
The little nun hurries over to pour us another cup of tea, her shoulders hunched at the compliment of her abbess.
My toes curl as I notice Palmo’s gaze going over my lay clothes. “I’m sorry.” I cast my eyes down, and my fingers fumble with the edges of my sleeves.
“Don’t.” Her voice unusually fierce, Palmo puts her hand on mine and squeezes it. “And don’t be apologizing all the time. It doesn’t become a strong woman like you.”
I glance up and shake my head. “I’m not that strong.” I sink further in my seat.
“Nonsense,” she says, and her tone dares no denial. “From what I’ve heard…” She pauses, a grin coming to her lips. “If you’re anything like Dechen, you’re a force to be reckoned with.”
My eyes widen, and my jaw slackens at the mention of my grandmother.
“You know her?” I say. “My grandmother?” I hold my breath.
“Know her?” Palmo says, as she raises her eyebrows. “My dear, we’re practically sisters—in our younger days, sisters in shenanigans, for sure.” Her exclamation is followed by the loudest belly laughter ever, one that measures up to Dendup’s typical roars. “You didn’t know?”
I perk up, my mind aroused at the mention of my honorable grandmother, the virtuous abbess of our monastery, engaging in mischief. Palmo leans back and smoothens her robe, her laughter subdued now.
“Oh, I’m sure she won’t mind,” she says and looks up, her eyes full and bright with no doubt the most wonderful memories. “You’re her own blood, after all.”
She settles in her seat and starts telling all about their nightly ventures to the storeroom to snack on freshly fried khapse, their secret detours to the nearest village while pretending to cut long grass on the pastures, even their daring excursion with some of the village girls to the horse races which required a change in lay clothes. Her tales of antics and adventure swing me from merriment to amazement. Who would have thought this of my reverend grandmother?
“Oh, yes.” Palmo’s hand rests on my arm. “Dechen used to be quite a handful.” She closes her eyes for a moment, reminiscing about their younger years together.
“Mind you.” Her bright gaze has turned into a thoughtful, even distant, stare as she looks up again. “It’s quite a miracle she turned out so well, for the poor girl was heartbroken when she was brought to us.” Her voice falls flat and wavers. “They had shattered her spirit, crushed her being to the bone by taking her baby from her.” She sips her tea with care. “And Rapten was a good man, an honorable man who had done everything to make peace between the families.” Tears fill her eyes. “Not to mention the day the terrible news reached us of your mother’s accident… years later…”
Her voice trails off, and I choke at the thought of the enormity of my grandmother’s grief. How much suffering can one bear?
“But then you came.” A renewed sense of pleasure graces Palmo’s lips. “And with you, so much happiness.” She wraps her hands around her cup. “Palden did good bringing you to Dechen instead of those spiteful relatives of hers.” She wrinkles her nose.
“Oh, I gave her a lot of sorrow, though, being such a wild child.” I laugh as I recall my grandmother’s stories about my boisterous behavior.
“Oh, Nordun.” Palmo reaches over to me. “She is nothing but proud of you, even now.” She points her chin at my lay clothes, and I cringe.
“Don’t!” Her eyes flash a warning at me. “Don’t ever be ashamed of the choices you make.” Her voice stern, she pinches her lips. “Your grandmother immersed herself in the dharma as a monastic, knowing it was the only way to save herself from a life full of bitterness and resentment. She didn’t have a choice. You, on the other hand, with a father like Palden…” She sinks back in her seat.
“Your life is a wide-open, ready to be explored with a boundless curiosity, and from what I’ve understood, you’re doing great.” She sniggers. “A female horse master, that sure must please Palden too.”
I feel my face stretch and I can’t help but gloat a little. It’s so good to hear these words from her.
“But let’s focus on the task at hand.” She looks over my shoulder and gestures for Jomo to fill our cups once more.
My pulse races. The task at hand. I bite my lip and my eyes sink into the thick swirl of clotted cream on the top of my cup. She just recalled my mother’s death as an accident. What does she know? I take a sharp breath in.
“Did you know?” My voice sounds frail, as my heart’s so small. “About my uncle?” My vision resurfaces from the milky brew, but is still too weak to face her.
“Word came to me, yes,” Palmo says. “And the family’s intentions are apparent.”
I nod and glance up to see Palmo’s hands wrapped around her cup, a translucent shine coming through her blue-veined knuckles.
“But I also se Dechen raised you well.” Her voice soft and steady, she looks at me from over her cup. “That’s the real reason you’re here, isn’t it?” She spins her cup around again, letting the fatty foam settle on one side. “To prevent this useless killing?”
My quickened pulse relaxes, and I raise myself, realizing there’s no hiding from the truth in her eyes. This woman knows it all.
“It is,” I say. “But now that I’ve arrived, I’m not sure how.”
Her hand dismisses my concern.
“There’s no use pondering the how, Nordun.” Her alert eyes soften with the tone of her voice. “Once you’ve figured out the why, the how will follow.” She pauses and takes a sip of her tea without averting her gaze from me. “Trust your heart, and you’ll be fine.” She continues to taste her tea, giving each sip the utmost attention.
Trust your heart. I nod as my mind settles with hers in the quiet contentment descending upon us.
“Why not do some offerings to ensure a fortunate outcome?” Palmo sets her empty cup next to mine on the table. “Jomo will show you our prayer room.”
Yes, prayer is what I need right now.
I follow the small nun to the back of the house with a spring in my step. A proud smile stretches across her face as she swings open the door, and a delightful scent of floral notes, peppered with a light hint of spice, floats our way.
With my feet at the threshold, I savor the aroma—so delicate and different.
“We make our own,” Jomo says and urges me to step in.
My feet sink in the heavy wool of the carpets. My eyes drown in the abundance of natural light, bathing the room in the softest shades of pink, and blushed rose.
I take a few steps towards the shrine and lower myself three times before coming up for air. The beauty of this place is breathtaking. It’s not the elements that are different, for the gilded Buddha, the elaborate offerings on the shrine, the detailed thangka’s, it’s all there. It’s in the way this room has been arranged, from the gradient tones in the color scheme, to the matching textures of the fabrics—everything is put together with utmost care and thought.
I turn to take in the different thangka’s, and my eyes settle on a few unknown depictions. I lean in to examine the unfamiliar deities.
“We used to circle the other way, you know,” Jomo says, answering my unspoken curiosity. “But it doesn’t matter which way we circle, samsara’s still samsara.” With a cheeky smile peeping through on her loving face, she hastens out of the room, closing the door behind her in her own quiet manner.
Still in wonder of the unexpected beauty, I sit on one of the mats and slip the jade beads from my neck. Ignoring the desire of my unruly thoughts to churn over Palmo’s every word, I close my eyes and turn my mind to prayer. Oṃ tāre tu tāre ture soha. As my breath settles on the rhythm of my beads, my heart fills with a deep silence and my mind opens in the vastness of space.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in prayer when a sound of a bouncy pitter-patter pops in my ears, followed by the smooth stride of squeaking leather.
No way! I turn to see the door fly open and my suspicion is confirmed—little sister hops over the threshold, followed by a gloating Lanying.
“We looked all over for you!” The little one throws herself in my lap and latches her sticky arms around my shoulders in the snuggest hug.
Lanying halts at the doorway, flashing that triumphant grin of hers And I feel myself freeze for just a moment.
“Told you I would find you.” She anchors her hands on her hips, and the silver of her long knife thunders a cold lightning bolt through the warm hued room.
I clutch little sister tight as my thoughts turn to the worst.
“It’s time then?” My voice falters and my fingernails hook in the flimsy fabric of little sister’s coat.
“It’s time,” Lanying says, and she turns on her heels. “But first, tea.”