kitchen. Karma’s nowhere to be seen. Good. I rest my head against the wall and doze off for a moment. The crackling fire of the kitchen stove almost lulls me to sleep.
As I slide the jade beads through my weary fingers, my mind wanders back to the hermitage. A deep calm stretches in my body. It was a good day.
“Hey.” Karma’s voice hovers above me. “Sorry I’m so late but…”
I open my eyes, and his tall, muscular legs are the first thing I see. He bends down and my heart skips a beat as he meets my gaze, as if I always forget how gorgeous he is. He leans in, his long loose hair brushing my hands as he searches the inside of his chuba.
“Here, I got you something.” He pulls something red out from under his shirt and sits beside me, his hand on my knee. “Thought you might be interested.” He passes me a slender, elongated package, wrapped up in red cloth.
“For me?” My eyes widen as I recognize the shape. A book.
I run my hand over the top, the thin fabric ripples under my fingertips. Yes, a book. Without hesitation, I untie the knot at the back. The folding fabric reveals a stack of long, brown pages, sown together in the middle with one single thread. My index finger and eyes join to trace the lettering on the first page. A smile comes to my face as I recognize the scripts. Yes, I can read it. My lips form the vowels and consonants of the first sentence. Nice to meet you.
My voice breaks. “What kind of book is this?”
I frown and glance at Karma. The first half of the sentence makes perfect sense, but the second half is all gibberish.
“You tell me.” Karma laughs. “I can’t read.” His eyes sparkle, and his whole face contracts in one big grin.
I try again, my eyes on the page. “Nice to meet you,” I read. Well, that makes sense. But then the second half of the sentence… my mouth forms the vowels and consonants. “Hen gaoxing jian dao ni.” My mind searches in all its corners as my eyes fix on the words. The letters are familiar, but the sound makes little sense. Hen gaoxing jian dao ni. Still, something about that sentence—or cluster of words, really—is familiar.
“Hĕn gāoxìng jiàn dào nǐ,” Karma says, his voice steady and slow. Hĕn gāoxìng jiàn dào nǐ. My lips mimic his words inaudibly. I focus even harder on the page, pressing my mind to make sense of it all. Hĕn gāoxìng jiàn dào nǐ.
“Of course!” I shoot up, and our heads almost collide. “It’s the Han language!” I’ve heard that sentence before, so many times. I just didn’t recognize it on the page.
Karma nods. “It is.” He slides his hand down my back. “So can you make out what kind of book this is now?”
My fingers run over the page, following the sentences. They are all in familiar script. The first half of the sentence is in my language. That I see. The second half is in my script, but the meaning... I look at the first sentence again. Nice to meet you - Hĕn gāoxìng jiàn dào nǐ. The second half is the equivalent in the Han language but written how it sounds in my script. Now it makes sense.
“It’s a phrase book.” I look up in delight. “It’s a book to learn the language the Han people speak.”
He nods again, his eyes gleaming that soft green that makes my stomach flutter.
“So, tell me what’s in it.” His arm slides further behind my back. “I had to get it on good faith.” He pulls me close.
“Well.” I smoothen the first page and we read together.
First, I read the phrases in my language, then the phrases in the Han language. The first page has expressions of introduction and a list of food. This book is clearly written for the travelers and traders on the road—the next pages contain words and phrases helpful to visitors in a strange town looking for lodgings and asking directions.
Next up is a list of goods to trade, clothes, tools and weapons, and useful phrases to bargain down prices. We both laugh as Karma casually corrects my intonation, and together we make our way through the book.
Time falls away as my eyes devour the pages. My mind, open and eager, relishes in the learning of something new and exciting. This booklet not only gives me the opportunity to learn a new language, it also gives an interesting take on the problems one can encounter while traveling through the foreign lands like being robbed or being accused of stealing and even killing. Strange illnesses are mentioned too, as are vicious attacks of mysterious wild beasts.
“Om mani!” I put my hand over my mouth as I read of a monstrous beast that is said to gobble down men and mules in one go at the light of the full moon. “Did you ever come across this?” I look at Karma and hold my breath.
“Don’t believe everything you hear on the road.” He smirks. “Some people do like to boast about their adventures.”
I shake my head. Who could ever make up a story about something horrible like this?
My eyes are drawn back to the book—only a few pages left to go. To my delight, these last pages deal with Buddhist terminology, an explanation of the Buddhist philosophy in simple sentences. As it turns out, even Lord Buddha has a different name in the Han language. It also deals with the respect one has to pay to the teacher and high lamas.
“This is wonderful,” I say as I think of Lanying and the contempt she showed for the monks at the monastery. “Very helpful.” I turn to Karma, my fingers running through the end of the book. “You don’t mind if we finish this?”
He smiles and gulps down the last of his tea. “Not at all,” he says. “I love seeing you like this.” His hand caresses my cheek and I blush.
“Just a few more pages.” I quickly cast my gaze back on the book and together we read.
My heart expands learning the strange words about Buddhism, the world I know so well. The last page is a bit of a smudged one. The writing seems from another man’s hand. It deals with the arrival of a particular high lama, a master of the Buddhist religion. My eyes widen as they shoot ahead to the last three sentences. My voice falters. What?
To my horror, the sentences don’t relate the proper respect one has to pay to a lama, or the correct salutation towards a respected teacher. No, they tell that this teacher is dear to many women, that he goes about a lot, and that he makes love, a lot. My face flushes as Karma tries to catch my gaze.
“What’s it saying?” With an expression of genuine interest, his eyes dart to the page, then back to me. He has no idea. My fingers line the edge of the page.
“Eh…” I hesitate. The blush on my face creeps down my neck.
“You can’t read it?” Karma frowns and peers closer at the page.
“I can…” My nail scratches the top corner of the page. “It’s eh…” I take a deep breath in and speed over the sentences, giving Karma no time to correct my pronunciation. I stoop and as I finish, I keep my eyes fixed on the page.
An awkward silence pops up between us. Here I go again, still so uncomfortable with the ways of this world. I should be better by now, but I’m not.
The silence doesn’t last long, for Karma bursts out in a snicker.
“I love it when you become shy like that,” he says, and he pulls me in.
My warm cheek presses against the crisp, wrinkled linen of his shirt. I want to shrink even further, but I can’t.
He lifts my chin and his eyes—full of mischief—meet mine. “Let’s read these last sentences again, but this time real slow.” He fs a frown. “For I will have to correct your pronunciation on that.”
His lips pinch together as he suppresses what is undoubtably another burst of laughter and I cringe, but only for a moment. When I see my own reflection in the gentle green of his eyes, I can’t help but laugh at my silliness.
Here I am, in the arms of the man whose body I laid mine to sleep against under the wide-open sky for the last two days. And now I’m too shy to read aloud these sentences about the supposed behavior of a lama I don’t even know? I free myself from his tight embrace.
“I guess it’s like you already mentioned,” I say, trying to sound steady and sure under his tongue-in-cheek comment. “Some people do like to boast about their adventures on the road.” My eyes fixed on the page again, I dig my nails in the palm of my hand and start reading the last sentences clear and slow, giving Karma plenty of time to adjust my intonation.
“See,” he says. “That wasn’t so difficult.” His lips gaze my still burning cheek. “Now will you teach me?” He rests his hand on the book.
“To read?” I raise my eyebrows. “Sure, but sounds to me you’re doing great without it.” I lean back against the wall and put his hand in mine. He knows all the sentences in the book by heart.
“I do.” He nods, a pensive shadow glides over his face. “But I always wanted to learn.” He leans back beside me. “And now I’ve found myself the most kind-hearted teacher.” His lips brush my earlobe. “And the rest of my life to learn.”
My heart bursts open in my chest, and I feel my insides melt. This man! It’s not his gorgeous green eyes or his tender touch on my skin—it’s the very words he just said.
That night I lay my body to rest against his again. Not out of necessity as the last two days under the freezing open sky demanded, but willingly as my longing for him grows deeper and deeper, and I’m beginning to hear the whisper of my wild, loving soul.