lovers. That’s the first thing that hits my mind as I wake to the hustle and bustle of goods loaded into the courtyard. I’ve been tossing and turning all night.
I could pretend that the busyness around the house kept me from a sound sleep, but I’d be fooling myself. It was my own ridiculous thoughts, my own disturbing emotions around Karma and the woman, and what happened between them in that alley last night.
I can’t believe he acted like that. First fighting in front of me with the woman who actually saved me—who knows what would have happened if she hadn’t been around? Then refusing to hear me out and parading me to the guesthouse like I was some disobedient little girl. No way I was having any of it. I went straight to bed, never mind missing my dinner.
The woolen blanket itches my nose as I throw myself on my back, my eyes at the ceiling. Who does he think he is?
They must have been lovers, and he’s angry I found out. My mind’s pushing on. Sure, he wants to keep me safe, but he’s not angry I was at the temple. I told him I would be. He’s angry I found out about Lanying.
My mind races back to the alley. Lanying—the way she looked at him, so full of contempt. The way she spoke to him, so furious, yet so passionate. And then Karma biting back at her, so livid. That’s not the way people act when they don’t care.
The blood rushes to my head and a dull thud swishes in my ears as I realize—they still care.
They’re still lovers and he’s angry, I found out. My chest tightens. I try to stop my feverish thoughts from taking off. This is not happening. I throw my blanket to the side and draw myself on my elbows. I will not get myself into a frenzy over this. Today I’m leaving for Lhasa. I’ll need to focus my mind on making merit on the road ahead, not on Karma and whatever he has going on with that Lanying.
Besides, I could be wrong—what do I know about these things? Maybe there’s nothing going on—anymore.
I sigh and stretch my limbs as I roll my head from side to side. Plenty of mats, but all empty. Good, an excellent opportunity for undisturbed morning prayer. I fold the blanket to prepare, but alas, there’s a knock on the door. It’s Dendup calling me in.
“Heard you bumped into an old friend of ours,” Dendup says. His eyes are puffy and reddened. I sit down next to him in the kitchen.
Bread and tea are present in front of me, but my appetite’s still missing. My hands wrap around the hot cup. So, he knows about Lanying.
“Better stay away from her. Trouble follows wherever that woman goes.” He slurps his tea and pops a tsampa ball in his mouth. “Doesn’t know her place either.” Dendup’s eyes are now on me.
“Hmm.” I carefully blow the fatty foam in my cup aside. She came just in time, though. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them. No need to go into the incident with the drunk man. Dendup probably doesn’t remember I told them I was going to the temple.
“Her family can’t control her.” He gulps down his tea and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “They’ve given up on her years ago and let her roam now under the pretense of running the family business.”
So, Lanying’s in charge of her own. My eyebrows raise. “She seemed pretty put together to me.” I shrug and take a sip. My eyes meet Dendup’s over the rim of my cup. He throws me a big smirk as his teacup lands with a bang on the small table.
“Don’t even be thinking about it, sister.” There’s something gruffy in his tone. “Stay away from that woman.” He slaps his knees and gets up. “Time to go.”
I swallow the last of my tea and stuff the bread in my pocket. With my lips pinched and my chin raised, I stride out the door.
The tiny courtyard is jam-packed. Bags, packs, people and horses, all shadows moving in the dewy morning mist. I make out my horse, already saddled. Karma’s beaten me to it.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice weary, his eyes a faded moss green. He hands me the lead of my stallion. The leather burns in my clenched fists. I give him a curt nod. There’s no way I’m backing down as I did last night.
“Got you something.” He stretches out his hand for me. His open palm holds a small turquoise pendant on a leather strap. It’s a conch shell with its ends clasped in finely engraved silver. It looks like the intricate shell is carved with one slash straight out of an azure blue sky. Wow! It’s one of the most delicate pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen. Yet, the tiny shell exudes a robustness that is hard to miss.
“I saw it in the market yesterday and thought of you.” Karma’s voice sounds thin.
My eyes widen at the sight of this little beauty, piercing its bright blue hue through the flimsy morning light. The conch shell represents the Buddha’s voice, the deep and pervasive sound of the dharma, awakening us from the slumber of ignorance and urging us to work for our own welfare and the welfare of others. A warmth spreads through my body. A symbol of truthful speech and strength, how perfect on this pilgrimage. And how thoughtful of Karma. I look up from his hands into his eyes, a flimsy emerald shimmer coming through.
“Please don’t wander off again.” He ties the ornament around my neck. “Stay close from now on.” His eyes on the pendant, his fingers linger on my throat in a tender caress.
A blush spreads across my cheeks. “Will do.” I clear my throat and unclench my throbbing fists. My fingertip runs over the stone body of the shell. It’s hard and surprisingly soothing to the touch.
“Nordun.” Karma grips my hand. “What happened?”
A burning sensation rushes up my arm as he spreads my fingers, exposing the bloodstained lines on the palms of my hands. I cringe. This doesn’t feel good. Fiery, festering lesions streak the inside of my hand. Dirt and gravel have lodged in the already abraded grooves of my palms, causing them to infect overnight. It must have been from my fall in the alley yesterday evening. I yelp under Karma’s stern stare. I try to pull back my hand, but it only hurts more.
“You silly.” He grabs my other hand. It looks just as bad. “You checked your horse, but you forgot yourself.” A thoughtful smile breaks through as his fingers stroke my palms. “Your heart’s in the right place, but you have to take better care of yourself.”
I cast my eyes down. “It’s fine.” I try to wriggle my hands out of his. “We’ve got to go.” But Karma’s not budging. His eyes scout over my shoulders.
“Wait.” He scoots over to his bags and pulls out a clean cloth. “Come, boiled water’s the best.” He urges me into the kitchen, and he cleans out my wounds while I stand there, toes curled up in total humiliation. So much for the determination I set to meet Karma with this morning.
With my wounds dressed, we say goodbye to our generous hosts and ride out of the courtyard towards the edge of the town. We’re not the only ones up so early. My jaw drops as we approach the herd of horses and mules. There must be hundreds of them all lined up along the road.
“I’ve never witnessed any of this.” I turn to Karma in awe. This caravan is so much larger than I’ve ever seen.
A surge of energy shoots through my body as I raise myself in the saddle. My eyes dart over the colorful cacophony of people, beasts, and burden. The lead mules are decked out with bright plumes and ringing bells, signaling the caravan’s arrival. Tinkling charms and tiny mirrors are tied on their halters to ward off evil spirits and ghosts.
All mules are loaded to the hilt with a variety of goods packed and checked. There’s prized tea from Yunnan, pressed in brick and cake form, wrapped in tight bamboo sheaths and sown in waterproof yak skin, precious salt from Yanjing, bagged and plunked into bamboo carriages, dried pork and noodles from the locality, tied in formless bags, there’s copper, sugar, and so much more in those bags and packs, I can’t make it all out.
And then there’s the company we’re keeping on the road. There must be at least one mule keeper between ten to twelve fully loaded mules swarming round, checking their prized possessions for the take-off. There’s a whole score of monks from the local monastery riding their horses, a dozen or so individual pilgrims on food travelling, and I spot even a few entire families joining the caravan, their youngest ones strapped on horses. My eyes trace the lengthy line to the front. Lanying. Her horse trots next to what are obviously the caravan leaders on their horses. As soon as she spots me, she raises her hand and yells.
“Good to see you, sister.” She steers her horse over to me and bares her teeth into a grin. “Glad you’re coming along.” Her long overcoat, the darkest cobalt blue, flows along the flanks of her stallion. A sharp turn exposes her fitted trousers and a long knife, running the length of her thigh bone. As my eyes catch the handle poking underneath the heavy wool, I can only imagine the competent ferocity with which she will yield its blade in times of trouble. She casts a condescending glance at my company. “Talk later.” And off she is, throwing an obvious wink my way.
“Tsss.” Dendup shakes his head. From the corners of my eyes, I see Karma spurring on his horse, a stoic look on his face. I’m not sure what to make of it all.
What I am sure of, though, is that I’m not letting myself be carried away by it all again. Whatever it is or was between them, it’s not mine. I lean back in the saddle and raise my hand. “See you later.”
Soon we’re moving along, but not before we circle the weisang lit by monks of the neighboring monastery. Two piles of smoldering cypress and juniper branches release their shreds of dense smoke. The bright white columns whirl straight up. Om mani padme hung. A low buzz of prayer resonates in the air as we move through. As the crisp, clear aroma of the penetrating smolder stings our eyes, we rid ourselves and our animals of any negative forces, ensuring a safe journey for ourselves and our animals on the road. Only when the last animal emerges out of the blotted air is the caravan ready to hit the road.
As fast as the three of us came to Kandze, so slow, we now move out with the caravan. Traveling in numbers is best, Dendup told me, but it feels like we’re crawling instead of riding. My stallion trots won all fours. With my hands still sore, I’m having trouble reigning him in. Pretty soon he’s going to balk, I’m sure of it. I sit tight, as we’re both on edge.
“We’ll pick up speed soon, you’ll see,” Karma says at the look of my anxious face. By the tone of his voice, I know he’s not letting me out of his sight.
“Maybe let him loose a bit and ride up front?” I almost beg to be let go. With a wince, I pull the reins tighter.
“Ah sure, what harm can that do?” Dendup’s cheery voice comes to my rescue. “Let the colt cavort a bit. He’s got too much energy, it will do him good.” He waves at me, a sign of release. “Just don’t disturb the mules on your way.”
His words fall on deaf ears. I’m already off to the front, my horse’s ears twirling with delight over our newly gained freedom.
And while my horse releases his energy, I sit back in the saddle, taking it all in. I’m on pilgrimage to Lhasa, with Karma and a caravan. I shake my head. Who could have imagined that a few weeks ago? Not me, that’s for sure.
“But when the karmic wind blows, we will be moved, no matter how strong we stand.” My grandmother’s soft voice resounds in my ears as my mind travels back to her. “And sometimes we’re moved towards what we least expect.”
Well, that’s a sure truth.