Dhamek Stupa: The Sojourn

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For the next three days Ngodup had found a few novices to play with. He had been lost so. None of his parents had come to him. Especially Dolma must have deliberately avoided seeing him as she had feared of inciting sort of change in him. Ngodup hadn't had tiny doubt of his mother studying him from distance. He had just thought of his mother but not of going to her. Now they had left. There was still a week ahead to stay as the monks were preparing to go on pilgrimages. Dadul took Ngodup to different sites, from which he had visited a few. He just went with him all mute. There were those who made fun of him after learning that he was from Bhutan. ‘Aku Dukpa’ was his name for the time. He didn't talk much. He couldn't answer when someone asked his name.

One evening before a couple of days left for leaving for Varanasi he just rambled around alone. The place was virtually deserted and littered. The swelling waves of throngs had disappeared like sand dunes. So those handicapped beggars in rags had gone out of sight as well. ‘Meri Sati Bai Poone Karo’, the high pitched intonation haunted the deserted avenue and the intersection. He happened to walk along further till the point from where he had sudden mind to go to see the place where they had pitched their tent. He had a sudden dreamy thought of his mother being there yet. It made him long for his mother for a moment. He walked on. It was rather unbearable to see the place in litters and deserted. Everything had been dismantled and gone. The tents on the other side of the road were being taken down. He just looked at the place and hurried back.

He was going to learn from Yangzom much later (after 18 years during his second time home) that when they arrived Phuentsholing Dhargyal didn't show up in the evening. Dolma sent her to him as she knew he was at the Tibetan restaurant on the Indian side where Tongba was served. Teznin was with them but, as per someone’s recommendation, in a maroon Goe he had been able to procure. They were at the same place, the storeroom with a table and chair next by the interior door. They had been resting there since past midday. Their truck had arrived at Phuentsholing around 11.30am. It was to leave around 7pm against odd remarks made by those like driving at night was dangerous, especially at those precarious points. It was past 6pm. Teznin was sitting on the floor. Dolma was bit nervous.

‘Oh, don’t panic. Yangzom can find him and take him back. Then we can leave. It’s okay. But his intemperance, strange after Kalachakra empowerment. Not having bit restraint not to take Chang. Here have some snuff instead,’ said Tenzin and handed over the snuff tin to Dolma. The broad flat part between his nose and upper lip was tautly unmoving when he talked. It was partly smeared with dark-golden snuff despite he wiped again and again with a handkerchief that he dodged not to be spotted when taking out and putting back somewhere in his belt.

As Yangzom knew the place just on the other side of the deep wide gutter, the demarcation line between Bhutanese and Indian side, connected with planks to walk over, she went there with rising anxiety fearing she would find him tight drunk. There was just unpaved walkway on either side of the gutter. The Bhutanese side was less crowded and cleaner but the other side was crowded with odd buildings and shacks. There were two Tibetan families running bars and hotels with cheap rooms in the odd concrete buildings. The mishmashes of wires crisscrossed over narrow winding alleys leading to the main street. Even one side of the narrow walkway just at the edge of the gutter was partly occupied by hawkers selling cheap things ranging from kitchenware to toys.

There was a paying counter almost shoulder-high next by the entrance of the bar. It was old varnished but grimy. It was an oblong piece of box with front drawers. The rims of the top were bordered with miniature balustrade of whitish metal with the tops of the balusters pointed with sloping sides. It had been given such fancy, attachment for being the counter with the drawers to draw money. A chubby guy of dark complexion, who was almost in his mid fifties, was at the counter on a high metal chair matted with cushion and folded woolen blanket. His puffy face, stoutness and sitting like rooted there proved his further degradation into sedentary slothfulness.

The first room was the proper bar with those grimy wooden tables and chairs. It was rather dark and packed with tables and chairs. A door at the far back led into kitchen on the ground floor. There was a concrete staircase with a landing and iron handrail on one side at one corner leading to the upper floors. Even the place under the landing was set with a table and chairs. Yangzom found Dhargyal at one table at the far back with a few others. He was tipsy. She had trouble approaching him first as she was afraid. But she had to. The rest tables were occupied by a few like Dhargyal but there were free tables. Dhargyal was on the side facing the entrance and counter. His two mates, Bhutanese guys who were back from Kalachkara empowerment and in the same truck, were facing him with their backs to the entrance. Yangzom timidly approached and called her father’s name twice.

‘Apa, Apa, mother sent me here to call you back. The truck was leaving at 7pm,’ said Yangzom with ‘her heart about to disgorge out of her mouth’. It was her words.

Dhargyal looked at her followed by his two mates. She was both embarrassed and frightened. Dhargyal at once began to chat with his mates who were tipsy as well. The younger one like in his late thirties was more impressed by Dhargyal’s drunk jabbering. He looked from Dhargyal to Yangzom who was standing a few paces away between the tables.

‘See, she is my daughter who knows nothing. Mercy for her. She knows nothing. Okay, okay, Apa will come now,’ said Dhargyal while the younger one laughed foolishly.

Dhargyal stood up and followed Yangzom.

Ngodup had found out Dadul had a novice disciple named Jampa who was two years younger than him. He was with him. He was from a South Indian Tibetan settlement near Drepung Gomang monastery. Ngodup found him frisky, fussy and with a sort of disorder for his laughing heartily and long for nothing until his whole face turned dark red. He was of natural short stature. There was another novice named Tsering from Nepal with bright complexion. ‘Inji’ those novices called him for his fairness and blondish hair. He was taller and of Ngodup’s age. He was half Tibetan and half Nepalese of Tibetan origin. He was also known as Dhadha, sort of ringleader, as he had a few novices back there at the monastery who took his orders. Jampa was under him. There was another named Kaldor who was crippled but active. The elders would called him Kangkyok as he was crippled and lame from he was so small. He was of Jampa’s age but more independent. Even if he was under Tsering, he didn’t take so. He acted like he had guts to fight back to redeem his image any time. So Tsering couldn't act his superiority showily before him. They were in the same tent with their elders or guardian-masters who were all aged. They were Ngodup’s temporary friends. Ngodup had times to loiter around the stupa and go on pilgrimages with them.

‘Pugu Sarpa’ (new boy) was the name given to Ngodup for his muteness by Tsering whose Tibetan was rather variable with heavy Nepalese accent. And Ngodup took it. He lost with them. He didn't think about home at all.

When it was time to move for Varanasi and stay there for a week to do pilgrimages around, he remembered going in an old bus painted white and blue with barred windows. It was like 6 hours drive till they were disgorged on a roadside. It was said Chinese temple with a gate with sloping double slate-roofs. It was to walk in but not into the temple but around into its backyard, the spacious yard with big mango trees that exuded an air of oldness. It was dark and cool in the grove like an oasis after scorching heat on the way. It was like walking into a wonder garden after lurid glare of the white painted walls, burning asphalt roads and sultry heat.

Everyone began to unroll their baggage and occupy their places under those fat trunked shady mango trees with lush dark-green leaves. It was their camp as well. There they were free to use kerosene stoves to prepare food and tea. Dadul prepared a plain tea without milk and sugar to have some Tsampa. Ngodup was given his share. Jampa sat beside him. He displayed his seniority at every given moment. ‘Sartomba’, namely ‘blockheaded new’, he would call Ngodup when he found him acting out of his way.

Within a couple of days more monks had arrived. The most mango trees had been occupied. There was an elderly monk like in his late thirties just a few paces off them. He was alone. Ngodup found him interesting for his being rather odd among others. He just sat there with his belongings scattered around him. In such heat he had a furry sort of upper wear. At one time he was finding something in the white fur by taking it off. He was picking up lice among it or passing his time so. He was a huge man of immense built with strong limbs. But he looked overpowered by heat and lethargy associated with it. The skins of his chest and back were infested with reddish heat-pimples. He scratched them again and again rather violently. His face was that of early man type unwashed and coarse with grime. He sat with his legs stretched. He was just taking in the coolness the place offered. Ngodup was going to learn later that he was a new comer from Tibet, who had come to Kalachakra empowerment by braving through hazardous terrains of snows and Chinese border guards’ secondly surveillance so ready to shoot out even a dark moving speck on the infinite whiteness. He was going to learn he was one of them who had sacrificed their lives to enter India to have a blessing audience with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The shocking parts he was going to learn were those losing lives, being caught and incarcerated, losing limbs as of snow-bites, and more interestingly, those venturing further into exile after release from 2 to 6 months incarceration under tortures and harassing interrogations.

But for now Ngodup found him like an alien one. He didn't interact with others. He was all alone, topless and taking in the coolness like he had come to India to get it.

Ngodup found time to go out with Kaldor. He learned from him he was from a Tibetan camp near Drepung Gomang. He emphasized camp number 5 of Mundgod. His emphasis meant for the best camp, the richest. His being crippled had affected both his growth and gait like trampling more on one side when his whole figure moved. But he could run pretty fast. He was in an old yellow singlet and faded red garment like a small skirt. The thinness of the cloth of his garment accentuated the deformity of one side of his buttock that protruded more. He knew about here as of his coming here after the earlier Kalachakra empowerment at Bodh Gaya. He led Ngodup to the park off the vast spacious compound of the towering ancient Dhamek stupa of bare-brick circular mound known for its being enshrined with the relics of Lord Buddha and his disciples. The reserved park was vast with dried tuft stubble and ruins. The unpaved walkway along one side was just alongside woods. There was a zoo nearby but he led him to the children playground with swinging post, see-saw, slide, a turning one with round plank-floor and hand bars holding almost more than 5 children. Ngodup was fascinated by the spacious playground of oblong plot with ragged low hedge partly impaired. They played there for long till towards the afternoon. Tsering and Jampa came as well. But Ngodup went more with Kaldor.

They visited it again the following days. It was on the last day before leaving that Dadul led Ngodup to the temple of dark-grayish stone-walls within the Dhemak stupa compound but almost 200 yards off it. The plots of lawns around the temple as demarcated by well-maintained low hedges dotted with Ashoka trees were being watered and manicured by white muslin Dhoti clad Indians. The walkway around and broad front part of the temple were slab-paved and clean. It was around 8.30am. The paved front yard was packed with devotees. They stood in the queue of single file. It was the day to reveal the prime relic, a relic of Lord Buddha, of the temple to the devoted public. Ngodup was going to learn about it only when he was inside and next to the one before. A young Tibetan lay guy flanked by two saffron clad Indian monks was standing next to the quadrangle glass case with sloping four sided golden roof set on a clothed table. The young Tibetan guy must have been called from Institute for Higher Tibetan Studies to translate the significance of the relic to the devoted visitors. Ngodup only had an angle view of his face like a flash as was his time to stand and look through the glass case.

‘Look carefully! Those tiny dark dots like tiny pills were Lord Buddha’s…,’ said the young Tibetan guy. Ngodup didn't get the latter when his time was over. 

He didn'thave the interest to ask Dadul about it. Dadul didn’t ask him either as he was going to ask later like what the disciplinarian had said during a congregation recess as to test or see if he had attended the congregation or not.

Ngodup’s time at Varanasi was even more fun-filled with Kaldor. He was both adapted and experiencing more. It was almost like the validity of his blind attachment to his family and mother was almost over ever. The time here at cleaner Varanasi was over too.