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and set out for the north.
How different the hills were in the spring from the previous autumn!
Owing to the exigencies that had arisen, my parents had opened their house
in Dentam months earlier than usual. After settling down there towards the
last week of April. I took Gay-Neck along with me and set out in the
company of a Tibetan caravan of ponies for Singalila, leaving his wife
behind, so that if he were able to fly again he would return to her--just the
thing needed to cure him. She was to be the drawing-card. He might do it,
Ghond had hoped, in order to return and help her hatch the newly laid eggs,
though the day after our departure my parents destroyed the eggs; for we did
not want sick and degenerate children who would grow up to shame the
name of Gay-Neck.
I carried my bird on my shoulder, where he perched all day. During the
night we kept him safely locked up in his cage, which proved beneficial to
him. Twelve hours of mountain air and light improved his body, yet not once
did he make the effort to fly off my shoulder and return to his mate to help
her hatch the eggs.
The Himalayas in the spring are unique. The ground glittered with white
violets, interspersed with raspberries already ripening here and there in the
hot moist gorges where the ferns were spreading their large arms as if to
embrace the while hills lying like precious stones on the indigo-blue throat
of the sky. Sometimes we passed through thick forests where stunted oaks,
prodigious elms, deodars (cedars) and chestnuts grew in such numbers that
their branches shut out all sunlight. Tree against tree; bough against bough,
and roots struggling with roots fought for light and life. Below them in
arboreal darkness many deer grazed on abundant tall grass and saplings,
only to be devoured in their turn by tigers, leopards and panthers.
Everywhere life grew in abundance, all the more intensifying the struggle
for existence among birds, beasts and plants. Such is the self-contradictory
nature of existence. Even insects were not free of it.
When we emerged from the forest darkness and beheld the open spaces,
the hot tropical sunlight suddenly shot its diamond points of fire into our
helpless eyes. The golden tremble of dragon-flies filled the air; butterflies,
sparrows, robins, grouse, parrots, papias (Indian thrushes), jays and
peacocks clamoured and courted from tree to tree and peak to higher peak.
Now in the open space between tea-gardens on one side of the road and
pine-forests on our right, we strove and staggered up inclines almost as
straight as knives. There the air was so rarefied that we could hardly breathe.
Sounds and echoes travelled very far: even a whisper could not escape being
overheard from a distance of yards, and men and beasts alike became silent.
Save for the clatter of their hoofs the ponies as well as the men moved with a
sense of reverence for the solitude and stillness that shut down upon us. Here
the indigo-blue hollow of the sky remained untainted by clouds, and
untroubled by any movement save the sighing flight of cranes going
northwards, or the deep-toned plunge of an eagle into declivity's nearby.
Everything was cold, keen and quickening. Orchids burst out almost
overnight and opened their purple eyes upon us; marigolds brimmed with
morning dew, and in the lakes below, blue and white lotuses opened their
petals to the bees.
Now we were near Singalila. The lamasery raised its head and beckoned
us from the hillside. Its wing-shaped roof and ancient walls floated like a
banner against the horizon. I was encouraged to quicken my pace, and
another hour's time found me climbing the steep pathway of the monastery.
What a relief it was to be there among men who lived above the battle of
our everyday life! It being noon, I went down with Ghond through a forest
of balsam to the spring in which we bathed ourselves and gave Gay-Neck a
thorough wash. After the bird had had his dinner in his cage, Ghond and I
went to the dining-room where the lamas were waiting for us. The room
looked like a colonnade of ebony whose capitals were decorated with
dragons of gold. The teak-wood beams, grown quite dark through many
centuries, were carved into broad clear lotus designs, as delicate as jasmine
but as strong as metal. On the floor of red sandstone, orange-robed monks
were seated in silent prayer, which was their grace before each meal. Ghond
and I waited at the entrance of the dining-room until the prayer was
concluded with the chanting in unison, like the Gregorian chant:
"Budham me saranam
Dharmam me saranam
Om Mani padme om."
In Wisdom that is the Buddha is our refuge
In religion is our refuge
In the jewel of Truth (shining in the lotus of life) is our refuge.
Now I went forward and saluted the abbot, whose grave face wreathed
with smiles as he blessed me. After I had saluted the rest of the lamas,
Ghond and I took our seats at the table made up of a series of small wooden
stools, which came up to our chests as we squatted on the floor. It was nice
to sit on the cool floor after a very hot day's journey. Our meal was of lentil
soup, fried potatoes and curried egg-plants. Since Ghond and I were
vegetarians, we did not eat the eggs that were served at the table. Our drink
consisted of hot green tea.
After dinner, the abbot invited Ghond and me to take our siesta in his
company, and we climbed with him up to the topmost cliff, which was like
an eagle's eyrie, over which grew a clump of firs, where we found a hard
bare cell, without a stick of furniture anywhere, which I had never seen
before. After we had seated ourselves there, the holy man said: "Here in the
monastery we have prayed to Infinite Compassion twice every day for the
healing of the nations of earth. Yet the war goes on, infecting even birds and
beasts with fear and hate. Diseases of the emotions spread faster than the ills
of the body. Mankind is going to be so loaded with fear, hate, suspicion and
malice that it will take a whole generation before a new set of people can be
reared completely free from them."
Infinite sadness furrowed the lama's hitherto unwrinkled brow, and the
corners of his mouth drooped from sheer fatigue. Though he lived above the
battle in his eagle's eyrie, he felt the burden of men's sins more grievously
than those who had plunged the world into war.
 But he resumed smiling: "Let us discuss Gay- Neck and Ghond who are
with us. If you wish your pigeon to wing the serenity of the sky again, you
must meditate on infinite courage, as Ghond has been doing for himself
these many days."
"How, my Lord?" I asked eagerly. The abbot's yellow face suffused with
colour; no doubt he was 'embarrassed by the directness of my question, and I
felt ashamed. Directness like hurry is very sordid.
As if he knew my feeling, the lama in order to put me at my ease said:
"Every dawn and sunset, seat Gay-Neck on your shoulder and say to
yourself: 'Infinite courage is in all life. Each being that lives and breathes is
a reservoir of infinite courage. May I be pure enough to pour infinite
courage into those whom I touch!' If you do that for a while, one day your
heart, mind and soul will become pure through and through. That instant the
power of your soul, now without fear, without hate, without suspicion, will
enter the pigeon and make him free. He who purifies himself to the greatest
extent can put into the world the greatest spiritual force. Do what I advise
you twice a day. All our lamas will help you. Let us see what comes of it!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]