of these grasslands, with their wide view and soft ground, suits me. The sweet smell of the warming earth, the faint hum of a lone dragonfly, the swish of tall grass against the horses’ legs, the soft breeze billowing the thin fabric of my shirt against my back—it soothes all my senses and brings a little repose to my ever restless mind. My delight in riding these luscious planes must show, for when I catch Dendup watching me, he shakes his head.
“Don’t want to get too comfortable, sister.” He gestures to the Cho La pass looming in the distance. “She looks pleasing, yet she’s deceiving.” His voice carries a wary edge as he stares ahead.
My eyes follow his stare towards the magnificent mountain range. I’ve heard of Cho La’s two faces but can’t imagine them. “She’s so lush, so green from this side.” My eyes scan her shimmering peaks, rising out of the thick fir forest straight into the clear blue yonder.
Dendup shakes his head. “Just wait ’til she shows you her other side.” He shifts his weight to the front of his saddle. “She’s got the most jagged snow crags, the deepest frozen canyons and the most vicious hail pour-downs you’ll ever encounter.” His eyes narrow. “Nah, she’s nothing but trouble.”
My palms burn as I clasp the reins tight. There’s no escaping Cho La. We’ll have to cross her if we want to reach Lhasa. Om Tara. Let us pray she will grant us safe passage.
“We won’t get to Manigangou until tomorrow, so best to enjoy this day.” Dendup throws his arms in the air, his grin as wide as his reach. “We might just hit the end of the horseraces there. Should be fun.”
Manigangou, our entrance to the Cho La Pass and famed for its horse-racing. I guess as a future horse master I should be interested, but to be honest, all I’m looking forward to is visiting the famed Yilhun Lha Tso. I’m not sure how far off a detour it is, but I’ve got my heart set on circumambulating this holy lake.
A warm glow fills my body as I think of all the merit accumulated by going to Yilhun Lha Tso. Yes, it will strengthen my spirit and cleanse away some of the unfortunate karma I’ve collected in the past.
I straighten my back and turn my gaze over to our caravan, searching out the pilgrims among us. For sure, there’s many of us wanting to visit the holy lake. I glance at Dendup, his face still bearing that wide grin. If Karma and Dendup want to stay for the races, they can let me go to the lake in the company of the pilgrims. Right?
My hand swats a buzzing fly as my mind makes a familiar turn. Right. Who am I fooling? The two of them haven’t let me out of their sight since the incident. I bite my lip and lean forward, searching for a more comfortable position in the saddle. Ah well. Then one of them might accompany me to the lake. After all, I am on pilgrimage and I can’t pass Yilhun Lha Tso without paying homage. Turning to Dendup, I throw him my biggest smile. Not for me to worry about—I’ll leave it up to them to decide who’s coming along with me.
Rejoicing in the beauty of my surroundings, I turn my mind back to prayer. Om mani padme hung. How fortunate this precious life turns out to be today.
Manigangou tries to hide itself in the fold of the valley, but the myriad of prayer flags surrounding it gives it away. Vibrant and noisy, it turns out to be quite a bustling town.
Reaching our repose with the sun at her highest peak, there’s not enough time left to visit the holy lake—not that I’ve discussed my planned visit with Karma or Dendup yet. There is, however, sufficient time left to deal with the authorities involved. Being part of a caravan, officials check and count our animals and goods every time we pass an officers’ station. This time too, and it takes us a while before we can unload our horses in the courtyard of the inn.
“It’s all about those damned levies,” Dendup explained to me in Kandze. Every time the muleteers are checked at a station, they have to pay a percentage of the value their mules carry. That’s another rule in the game of trade. The further the muleteers bring their goods, the more stations they pass, the more charges they pay. Taxes. The muleteers spit when they hear the word. Now I understand why.
As I walk my horse in the courtyard, Karma and Dendup are already unloading the two packhorses they brought on our journey. “Nothing of value, just presents for friends and family we visit in Lhasa,” Karma sneered finely when we got our first check in Kandze. I didn’t see what was in the bags, but he didn’t have to pay at all.
“We’re a bit like the monks,” Dendup joked when I asked about it. “They’re exempt from tax too.” His smile hid it well, but by the tone of his voice, I knew he didn’t want to elaborate on it. So I left it. I found out he told the truth, at least about the last part—monks don’t have to pay tax on their trading goods, as the Mongol ruler whom they call Khan is a sincere supporter of the Dharma. Om mani padme hum.
My hands glide down my horse’s legs, strong muscles ripple under a healthy skin. By now we’re used to each other and the road we travel on together. He’s still rowdy around other horses, especially in an enclosed courtyard, but nothing a small tsampa ball from my pocket won’t cure. The stallion’s lead secured, I sling my bag over my shoulder. As I glance up, I meet Karma’s approving gaze.
“You go ahead, and get us some good seats,” he says, stacking the bags. “We’ll handle the rest of it.”
As I head for the kitchen, I look back for a moment. Karma and Dendup have engaged themselves in a lively conversation with some officers. Taxes. By now I’m sure of it. Sonam avoided the tax stations when he took Sangmo and me on the back roads to his family’s camp. And the visitors at that shady inn, they were all smugglers. My body tenses. My thoughts turn tricks on me again. And Karma? Is he a smuggler too? Is that why he’s away so often?
The intense heat in the kitchen hits my face with a veil of instant sweat. A ferocious roar from the stove brings the many kettles on it, boiling to the brim. My body sinks into a cushioned seat, but my mind rambles on. Taxes. Is that why Sonam has gone missing? Did the officials find out? Did they catch him? The dull pounding in my head gets louder as my thoughts turn over all the horrible scenarios; penalties of prison, of mutilation, even death in the most gruesome ways. I’ve heard rumors of the cruelty with which the rulings are enforced. I shiver.
“Here sister.” A small voice sounds from above. A tiny hand reaches out, and a cup of steaming milk brew drifts my way. In a haze, I take it.
“Thank you.” My vision blurred. I look up. The cutest little face beams right at me. She looks familiar.
“I’ll get you some bread too.” And off she is, only to return a few moments later with a flat round bread. Now I recognize her. She’s from one of the families traveling with us.
“You’re welcome.”
And gone she is, again.
Still dazed, I sip my tea. The comforting warmth brings an ease to my strained mind. Sonam is a man of the world. He’ll be fine. The back of my hand wipes the salty butter from my chin. After all, Sonam’s sons are looking out for him.
I lean against the wall. My eyes close for a moment. Norbu. A twinge of guilt tugs at my heart. Kind and gently Norbu, Sonam’s eldest son, who taught me all about the ways of the wild horse. He’s been so good to me, but I didn’t get the change to thank him. He was already gone, searching for his father when I returned with the wild stallion. A shallow sigh slips from my lips as I pull myself up. When all this is over.
Dendup plops beside me. “You’re hiding on us.”
Tea sloshes over my skirt; a rude awakening, yet pleasant escape from my own pitiful thoughts. A lightness ever so subtle fills my chest. The genuine delight on Dendup’s face as he sinks his teeth into the moist bread and washes it away with the creamy brew, the way this man rejoices in the simple things and never hesitates to express them. It touches my heart, time and again.
“So, how about catching the last of the horse races for today?” Karma gulps down the last of his tea. “We still have some light left.” He tilts his head to the side, his eyes on me.
“Sure, why not?” The words are out before I know it.
Horse races. I hop up and smoothen my rumpled dress. I’ve no interest in the races, but I know how much my companions love to watch. It will be the perfect setting for me to bring up Yilhun Lha Tso. Considering the cheerful and relaxed atmosphere surrounding the races, what are the chances they’ll say no?
“Let’s go!” I swing the rich blue mantle around my shoulders, taken aback by my own audacity. Who would have guessed? I do take after my mother, if only a bit.