fall into our familiar rhythm of long stretches in the saddle and nights in the open fields. From here on it’s to Chamdo, the next major town for trade. The muleteers are keeping a good pace, much to the delight of Dendup, who’s already stated more than once how fabulous Chamdo is, or moreover how good the food and the drink are over there.
Our days are filled with riding in the usual line, and little sister taking turns in the front of our saddle. She’s a welcome distraction, with Dendup teaching her songs, me teaching her prayers, and Karma, well, I don’t know what he’s teaching her. He often has to catch her, making sure she’s not rolling off laughing. I bet he’s boasting about his adventures on the road to her, too.
Our early nights are spent huddled around crackling fires, under the darkest of an indigo dome, strewn with a million twinkling stars.
Since we’ve crossed the peaks of the mighty Cho La, other mountains pale at the comparison of her grandeur and majestic height. Still, the ranges we cross now are high enough and even so treacherous, demanding my utmost attention for some of the day. Fortunately, my mind’s at ease and filled with prayer, like a pilgrim’s mind should be, so even the tough parts of the path are not daunting obstacles for me anymore.
Yet there’s a vague sense of unease dwelling in the corners of my mind, rearing its ugly head whenever I don’t guard my thoughts diligently. I know what it is. It’s the impatient part of me wanting to skip ahead to whatever plans Dendup and Karma have made for Uncle in Lhasa. It’s the deluded part of me thinking I can control the situation by wondering and worrying. And I also know it’s no use giving into that part of me.
Whenever the time comes, I’ll know, and strength will arise in me—the ngakpa’s divination foretold so. Nothing will harm me, as long as I keep faith in the essential goodness of others and act with my purest intention. His words have never rung so much truth to me than at this moment, for the pilgrim’s mind is one of trust and faith, of taking whatever occurs in life as the path. And that’s what I’m striving to be—a true pilgrim—for now.
“See, almost there.” Dendup’s voice behind me jolts me out of my thoughts.
I turn. A grin graces his face, undoubtably caused by the joyous company of little sister in front of him. He points to the right, towards the grassland ahead. I raise myself and peer in the distance. The noon sun reflects her rays on an endless row of gilded steeples popping out of the field. My heart leaps as excitement seizes me. The famed Kamaduo chortens, how I’ve been looking forward to seeing these wonders.
As if he senses my enthusiasm, my horse speeds up his pace and I’m not reigning him in.
“Go ahead.” Karma motions as I pass him in full trot.
My eyes delight in the shafts of golden ahead, and I chuckle. As if he could stop me now. The horse’s hoofs bounce in the damp grass. The warm smell of churned earth rises, and for a moment it feels like we’re floating towards the brightest of all suns. With the whitewashed cylinders of the chortens in sight, I reign in my horse. Time to slow down. These holy stupas represent the physical presence of the Buddha and hold sacred items—they are to be approached with the utmost respect. Securing my horse to the poles intended, I walk on, my hands in prayer, my mind in full adoration.
“They are huge!” A small hand tugs at my sleeve. “And there’re so many!” It’s little sister, her eyes wide in admiration of the myriad of chortens lined up in front of us.
I frown—my companions sure caught up with me in no time.
“Yes, they are huge,” I say and take her tiny hand in mine.
“There are over one hundred and thirty of them here,” Dendup adds, and he takes her other hand in his. “Let’s go to kora together….” He folds his cap in his chuba. “… and count all of them.” With a firm step, he tugs us along into the stream of pilgrims, circumambulating the chortens, row after row.
Crowned by strings of prayer flags releasing their invocations in the gusty midday breeze, these ancient chortens are everything—if not more—I always thought them to be. Their solid square bases represent the Buddha’s lotus throne and buzz with the sturdy, low vibration of the earth. It’s as if they’re urging us on, onto the Buddhist path with firm faith and fierce perseverance.
I glance at my companions. Little sister’s face is in total delight. Dendup’s expression is in total devotion, and I catch myself feeling amazed at his sincere expression. Sure, I’ve seen his dedication to the Buddhist path before, at Yilhun Lha Tso, but I still can’t make any sense of it. There’s only reason he’s here today, and it’s not because of these stupas. Not now.
I squeeze little sister’s hand tight. My faint smile directed towards her, I promptly tell her about the chorten’s cylindrical bodies, and the meaning of the golden tops, not to show off any of my knowledge but to steer my thoughts in another direction.
I could have spent the remainder of the day here, accumulating merit amidst the splendor of these hallowed chortens, but the prospect of reaching Chamdo by night is too alluring for the muleteers, including my own companions. Night has fallen already as we reach the town and I can’t make out much of its buildings.
Like in Derge, Dendup leads us away from the caravan, into the backways, to “friends of us.” The welcoming in the courtyard is as cordial as in Derge, with the lady of the inn already on the lookout.
“So lucky to have friends everywhere,” I say to Dendup as we dismount from our horses. He must have missed the sarcastic tone in my voice, for he only has eyes for the matron, exclaiming that we’ll be staying for at least a day or two. Karma on the other hand, has picked up on my tone and throws me a playful grin as he piles up our bags.
“Give the man a break,” he says, his lips dangerously close to my ears. “Not everybody has the pleasure of laying himself besides a soft, warming body like I do every night.”
Instead of the usual blush appearing on my cheeks, I break into laughter.
“You’re right.” I slide the saddle off, turning straight into his arms. “Who am I to judge?” And I mean it, for it’s not up to me to criticize my elder, especially one that takes such good care of me.
That night, it’s not until late that I feel Karma’s warmth surrounding me. After we saddle off and have something to eat, Karma and Dendup go out for “some urgent matter” and I don’t ask, for I don’t want to know. My whole being is filled with gratitude for the merit I made today. Settling down in a corner with my phrase book, I doze off until Karma puts his arms around me and lays me down to sleep into the tender hollow of his body.
I had hoped to practice my newly learned phrases at the market of this town for today, but Karma has other plans. After a late, hearty breakfast of meaty thukpa and with no Dendup in sight, he urges me into the already sun-drenched courtyard.
“Come on.” He hands me my saddle. “I’m taking you away for the day.”
I step back, the saddle in my arms. “Where are we going?” I say, not knowing whether to worry or to delight. Dendup obviously hasn’t returned yet, and now Karma, avoiding my question, seems to be in quite a hurry to get away. My eyes dart to our bags, still piled at the side of the yard.
“They’re safe here,” Karma says as he notices my concern. “I’ve got us covered.” His hand slaps the small daypack around his shoulder.
I hesitate for a moment, but then slide the saddle over my horse’s back.
“Sorry, boy,” I say under my breath. “I know I promised you a break but seems like we’re on the move again today.” With a soft neigh, my stallion scrapes his hoofs and I mumble on as Karma gives me a quick knee up.
He laughs. “Did I just hear you make apologies to your horse?”
His hand rests on my knee, and I clench my reigns, caught like a kid with my hand in the tsampa bag. I dip my chin down. A glance sideways in his direction releases all the tension built up in me though, for as our eyes meet, I see nothing but genuine joy. No scheming to get away from here, no secrets or hidden agenda. No, there’s nothing but pure contentment in the depth of his eyes.
My hunched shoulders drop—you silly girl—and I scold myself for being so suspicious of Karma instead of looking forward to being alone with him for a day.
“Yes, that’s right.” I slide my warm hand over his, still on my knee. “And I mean it, for our horses deserve a day of rest too.”
A thoughtful look crosses his face as he pats my stallion’s neck.
“It’s not far,” he says. “And there’s plenty of shade and good grazing for the day.”
I raise my eyebrows and shift back in my saddle.
“Now you make me curious,” I say. “So, we’re not going into town then?”
He hops on his horse. “Nope, you’ll just have to wait and see.”
With a smug smile he leads us out of the courtyard.
We ride out of town with the sun on our face, and a light breeze spurring us on.
Our horses’ hooves clap in sync on the granular gravel, and I can’t help but think: this day just might turn out to be so much more interesting than the day in the town I’d planned.