The Road Back

by Liz Harris

  ‘They smell glorious,’ she sighed, standing up as the Major and Kalden reached her. ‘It was worth any number of frightening bridges to get to such a wonderful spot. I can’t think of a nicer place to have come on our first day out. This was an inspired idea, Kalden – a very good idea, I mean.’

  ‘Indeed, it was,’ the Major echoed. ‘And now I think we’ll eat.’

  They found a spot on the river bank, and ate the ngamphe that Wangyal’s wife had prepared for them. Ngamphe was barley flour mixed with tea, Kalden explained. It was something that they’d have a lot for lunch as it was easy to carry and it would give them energy.

  When she’d finished eating, Patricia lay back on the grass and stared up at the clear blue sky and at the mountains and crags that towered above her. A bird began to sing in the poplars that fringed the bank on the opposite side of the river.

  ‘Just listen to that bird. What sort of bird is it, Kalden?’ she asked, rolling on to her side to look at him.

  ‘Sorry. Me not know English name.’

  ‘It’s a golden oriole,’ the Major cut in. ‘They’re quite common here.’

  ‘And what’s that sound?’ she asked, sitting up as strains of a different music burst into the air, mingling with the song of the oriole.

  ‘Music come from temple. Lama sing prayers.’

  ‘Is a lama the same as a monk, Kalden?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘Lama is Buddhist teacher. Monk not teacher. Monk lives in monastery, but can come into village and do services. Follows teachings of Buddha and cuts hair from head. Lama not have to cut hair. Lama only have to cut hair if also a monk.’

  ‘I see. Thank you.’

  ‘You want visit temple in village, Patricia-le?’

  ‘Yes, we’d like that, Kalden,’ the Major said, and he stood up. ‘Is it close enough to walk from here? I could do with stretching my legs a little.’

  ‘Yes, Major-le. Can leave ponies here.’

  They set off for the short walk to the village, Kalden leading the way, followed by the Major and then Patricia. Just inside the entrance to the village, they saw the lama squatting in front of a small, white, square building. That building was the temple, Kalden told them.

  Standing alongside chattering villagers wearing multi-coloured velvet caps fringed with black fur earlaps, and long grey woollen robes, edged with sheepskin and tied at the waist with blue girdles, they watched as the lama slowly turned over the leaves of a wood-bound book whilst chanting the sacred texts. Every so often, he paused to strike his drum and cymbals. An old man in priestly red clothing, hovering at his side, regularly refilled the lama’s bowl with a liquid that Patricia thought was probably chang.

  ‘Many Ladakhi temples like temple here. Now me show where lamas live,’ Kalden said after they’d watched the lama for several minutes and the Major had taken some photographs, and he led them round the back of the temple to another small building.

  Two rows of lamas were sitting just inside the building, surrounded by idols, lighted tapers and masks as they ate their midday meal from bowls. In front of the building sat an old lama with a patch over each eye. In one hand he held a small metal prayer-wheel inscribed with the mantra ‘Om mani padme hum’, which he was chanting over and over again, and with his other hand, he twisted the wheel continually.

  ‘Each turn of wheel is prayer,’ Kalden told them. ‘Many prayers mean good future life.’

  ‘He means their reincarnated life, Patricia. The prayers will help them to be born into a higher quality form. Is that not so, Kalden?’

  Kalden nodded cheerfully.

  Patricia threw Kalden an amused glance, aware that he hadn’t understood a word of what her father had said. He caught her eye and quickly looked away. Under the golden hue of his skin, she was sure that she saw him blush. Smiling to herself, she hurried after the two men, who’d started to wander through the village.

  It was a small village and despite the Major’s enthusiasm for examining every inch of the place, they’d soon seen everything there was to be seen and Kalden suggested that they start on their journey back. The Major agreed and promptly set off in the direction of the ponies, leading the way.

  ‘Your English is really very good, Kalden,’ Patricia told him as they followed her father. ‘Where did you learn to speak English?’

  ‘Long story,’ he said. ‘Not story for today. Soon be back to pony.’

  ‘Then you’ve got to tell me another day, when we’ve got more time. Do you promise you will?’ Her eyes met his.

  ‘Me promise,’ he said. They smiled at each other. They were both still smiling when they reached the ponies.

  While Patricia and the Major unhooked the ponies from the rocks at the base of the slope, Kalden quickly went over the tract of ground where they’d eaten their lunch, collected their bowls and put them into the goatskin bag which he hung on his pony.

  ‘Go back different bridge,’ Kalden told the Major when they were ready to leave. ‘Long walk, but small bridge. Small bridge good for Patricia-le.’

  Patricia threw him a look of gratitude.

  ‘I’m not sure that that’s a good idea, Kalden,’ the Major said. ‘I think that Patricia should face the first bridge again. When one falls off a horse, it’s a mistake not to climb back into the saddle at once. However, the choice is yours, Patricia.’ He stared questioningly at her, an eyebrow raised.

  ‘I prefer to go back the way we came, Father,’ she said quietly. ‘My father’s right, Kalden. I have to prove to myself that I can get to the other side of any bridge that we come across.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, girl,’ the Major said, and he swung his leg over his pony.

  Kalden threw a sidelong glance at the Major’s back, tightened his lips and pulled hard on the strap of the goatskin bag.

  ‘As we become more used to our environment, we can go further afield, Kalden,’ the Major said while Patricia was climbing on to her pony. ‘In a couple of weeks, I might ask you to arrange for the three of us to go to the village of Sumdo Chinmu via the Stakspi La. It was a memorable trip that I’m keen to repeat. It would mean an overnight stay, of course, but I believe that the shepherd’s hut I stayed in all those years ago is still in use as a Rest House.’

  ‘Can do that,’ Kalden said, getting on to his pony. ‘If you ready, Patricia-le, we go bridge again.’

  She nodded, and the Major started to lead the way towards the narrow track.

  ‘I be with you, Patricia-le,’ Kalden said, and he gently urged his pony forwards.

  The following morning, ignoring her father’s instructions to leave their washing for Wangyal’s wife to do, Patricia collected their dirty clothes and made her way past the fields to the stream that was furthest from the post house. She dropped the clothes in a heap on the ground, knelt down, put a shirt into the water and started to scrub it.

  ‘Not do, Patricia-le!’ she heard Kalden call, and she turned round to see him running towards her. ‘I go to see Major-le, but see Patricia-le at water. Not wash clothes here. Drink water in stream. And village there drink water.’ He pointed downstream, where Patricia knew there was another village. ‘Come,’ he said, and he gathered the clothes in his arms and led her to the stream that ran along the edge of the fields. ‘Not drink water here. Water go to fields. Wash here.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise … ’ Patricia began. He stopped her with a slight shake of his head.

  ‘Me know,’ he said, and he smiled deep into her blue eyes. She smiled back at him, and they stood there, motionless, each staring into the other’s face. Their smiles faded. The clothes slipped from his hands and his arms fell to his sides.

  She felt a sudden longing to move closer to him, to put her hands against his chest and slide her fingers beneath his shirt. A hot glow spread through her body, and she felt herself go red. She looked quickly down at the clothes at her feet. ‘I’d better get these done, then,’ she said in a rush, and she crouched down and picked up the shirt closest to he
r.

  ‘Me help?’ he asked, kneeling next to her, inches from her.

  ‘Thank you for offering, but I don’t mind doing them. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than helping me.’ She attempted a laugh, her eyes on the clothes.

  ‘Not more important than be here with you, Patricia-le,’ he said quietly.

  Her laugh died away. She raised her eyes and looked at him.

  ‘Kalden!’ they heard the Major call from the direction of the post house.

  Their heads spun round and they saw the Major fast approaching them, his eyes riveted to the spot where they knelt. Patricia scrambled to her feet, closely followed by Kalden.

  ‘Hello, Father,’ she said, colouring. ‘Apparently, I was using the wrong stream for washing the clothes, but I’ll know in future. And Kalden’s offered to help me do the washing. That’s nice of him, isn’t it?’ She pushed her hair back from her face.

  ‘Indeed, it is. I had intended to ask Kalden to join me in a cup of tea while he and I planned a walk for tomorrow – I think we’ll consider today a rest day – but if you feel in need of help with the washing …’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ she cut in hastily. She turned to Kalden. ‘I’m fine, thank you. You and Father start planning the walk, and I’ll join you as soon as I’ve finished here.’

  ‘Come, then, Kalden,’ the Major said. He turned and started to walk stiffly back across the coarse grass. Kalden followed a step or two behind him.

  She stared after them for a moment. Butterflies fluttered deep inside her in a way that she’d never felt before. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she bent down, picked up the shirt again and submerged it in the water.

  ‘Many walks here. Not need pony,’ Kalden said as they headed in the direction of the chorten the following day, a rucksack on each of their backs. From across the stone-strewn plain, they could hear the sound of the prayer flags flapping noisily in the wind long before they reached them.

  ‘Must stay on left of chorten,’ Kalden told them gravely as they approached the tapering stone structure. ‘And on left of mani, too,’ he added a little further on as they passed a low stone wall inscribed with prayers.

  ‘It’s nice not to have to take the ponies. We’ve done masses of riding in the past month, and even when we were walking, we still had to pull our pony,’ Patricia remarked a few minutes later. ‘Don’t you think, Father?’

  ‘I agree. A long walk is just what our muscles need, and at a brisk pace.’

  Pausing for a moment, she turned to look back at the village, her eyes slowly climbing from the upper storeys of the white houses to the rock that rose up behind the houses. Higher still her gaze went, until it reached the monastery.

  It looks like a person watching them all the time, she thought, and she turned back to the track and walked quickly to catch up with the two men. As she came up behind them, she saw Kalden glance over his shoulder at her.

  ‘The monastery’s quite frightening,’ she said as she reached him. ‘I wouldn’t like to live on the side of the rock like that.’

  He stared ahead.

  Before long, they’d left the village and chorten far behind them and had struck out across barren ground, a seemingly never-ending stretch of light brown rock beneath the canopy of the bright blue sky.

  ‘House over there missionary house. Missionary family from England,’ Kalden said suddenly. He stood still and pointed to an isolated house at the far side of the plateau, only the top part of which could be seen above the stone wall that surrounded it.

  ‘A missionary family, you say,’ the Major remarked. ‘I can’t imagine that they’d be very popular in such a Buddhist region.’

  ‘Not popular. Gone now.’ He turned away and continued walking.

  ‘Did you ever speak to the family?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘Yes, Patricia-le. Me meet family. Me friends with family.’

  ‘What were they like?’

  ‘In the spirit of helping each other with our languages, Kalden,’ the Major interposed, ‘I trust that you won’t object to my pointing out that when you refer to yourself, and when you are the person doing the action, it is usual to say I and not me. For example, to use your last statements, you would say I met the family, not me met the family; and I was friends with, not me was friends with. I trust that that helps.’

  ‘Thank you, Major-le. I remember now.’

  ‘Did the missionary family teach you to speak English?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘Yes. But they gone long time now. When family go, not speak English. Forget English.’

  ‘And is that where you got your trousers from?’ she asked, glancing down at his legs with a smile. ‘You’re the first Ladakhi man I’ve seen in a pair of trousers.’

  ‘Missionary man give trousers. Ladahki robes more hot, but I like wear trousers. And when go, missionary man leave me many trousers.’

  ‘I don’t think you should question Kalden so, Patricia. It’s not appropriate.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kalden,’ she said, and she fell silent.

  The route that Kalden had chosen took them up a broad band of sloping sand and stones. They paused several times on the way up to the cluster of crags that they could see at the top, and sat on a rock for a rest. Sometimes they gazed back at the view across the wide plateau as they sat there; other times they stared ahead at the snow-covered peaks of the mountains.

  ‘The silence here is quite amazing,’ Patricia said at one point, perched on a rock between Kalden and her father. ‘I never before understood what people meant when they said that silence was deafening, but now I know.’ She turned to Kalden. ‘What I’m saying, Kalden, is that it’s very quiet here and very beautiful.’

  The smile he gave her lit up his whole face.

  ‘We see river soon, down in valley,’ he said. ‘Very pretty. Me like valley. No,’ he stopped himself, laughing. ‘I like valley. No, I like the valley. Summer, I cross river – the river – with brothers. Go to mountain pasture. Is good.’

  ‘How many brothers have you got?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘Three,’ he replied. He got up and started to walk up the path to the top of the slope.

  ‘That’s quite a drop!’ the Major exclaimed, joining him at the top and peering cautiously over the rim of the crag into the ravine below. ‘How on earth do people get to the bridge at the bottom?’

  ‘Paths go down side of mountain,’ Kalden said. ‘Go down path, over bridge and up track on other side of mountain. Family go to mountain pasture over bridge. When take animals, take wide path down mountain. Not go on this path.’

  ‘I suggest that we have our lunch now,’ the Major said, stepping back from the edge of the rock. ‘And after lunch, you can take us to the bottom of the slope.’

  ‘Path here very difficult if not Ladahki. Have lunch and go to wide path. Is good?’

  ‘I think you underestimate our strength and stamina, Kalden,’ the Major said, tersely. ‘As an ex-army man, I have experienced difficult terrain. I’m sure you’ll find that we’re well up to the challenge. Isn’t that so, Patricia?’

  She walked gingerly to the edge and peered over. ‘I’m not so sure, Father. It looks quite difficult. Perhaps we ought to do as Kalden suggests and find an easier path. Maybe when we’re more used to the mountain tracks, we can attempt this one.’

  ‘Nonsense! By the time that we’ve had our lunch we’ll be fighting fit and ready for anything Kalden can throw at us. Come on, what do you say?’

  His face anxious, Kalden turned to Patricia. She met his eye, then looked away. ‘We’ll do whatever my father says,’ she said quietly.

  They finished their lunch, packed everything into their rucksacks and slipped their rucksacks on to their backs.

  ‘Right, Kalden,’ the Major said briskly. ‘Lead the way.’

  Worry written all over his face, Kalden led them over the granite crags to a point slightly further along the ridge. Patricia kept as close to him as she could; the Major
followed behind her. They came to a slender gap between two of the crags, and Kalden stopped.

  ‘We go here. Is place to put foot under rock. Then take path to river. I watch you, Patricia-le,’ he said, and he gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I here. You be safe. Me go first, next Patricia-le, next Major-le.’

  ‘We’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about us, Kalden,’ the Major said.

  Sliding between the crags, Kalden put his foot into a hollow just under the ridge and took a step down. He turned and held his hand up to Patricia to help her. She took a deep breath, squeezed through the gap and grabbed his hand. Putting her foot out, she felt around in the air for secure ground. For an instant, all sense of space dissolved and she seemed to be floating in a void.

  ‘Kalden!’ she cried in alarm.

  ‘I here. You good.’ His hand tightened around hers.

  She inched her foot further to the right, and found the indentation in the rock.

  ‘I’ve done it,’ she cried in relief as she felt the firm ground beneath her, and she gave a little laugh of triumph. Then she took her other foot off the edge of the ridge and found herself standing next to him at the top of a single track path. Still gripping his hand, she peered round him and saw that the path wound diagonally down the steep slope of the mountain.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ she said. ‘You can’t see any of this from the top.’

  ‘You good, Major-le?’ Kalden called up to the Major, who was stepping on to the track after Patricia. ‘Me help?’

  ‘I’m fine, Kalden. Indeed, I’ve faced more demanding tests of courage than this in the past,’ he said. ‘If you just help me put my foot in the correct place … Ah, there we are. Thank you.’ And he joined them.

  ‘Now we go down to river.’ Kalden glanced down at Patricia’s hand for a moment, then released it. Turning, he led the way along the narrow path.

  At about three quarters of the way down the mountain, the path widened into a small ledge.

  ‘Have rest?’ Kalden suggested, and he stopped. ‘Much loose stone near end of path. Need be careful.’

  ‘A rest’s a brilliant idea,’ Patricia said, and she promptly sat down and leaned back against the wall of the mountain. ‘I could do with stopping for a moment, although it isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. The hardest part was getting on to the track in the first place.’