The Road Back

by Liz Harris

  Tenzin returned with a pot of tea for Amy. She stood up to take it from him. Their eyes met and they smiled shyly at each other.

  ‘I’m able to sit up now,’ Patricia said, and she swung her legs over the side of the bench. ‘I feel much better.’ She tried to smile. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Yes, I do. It was the shock of it.’ She pushed the blanket to one side, smoothed down her hair and took the drink that Tashi was holding out to her. ‘Ju-le, Tashi,’ she said, and she put the pot to her lips.

  Tenzin poured some chang for each of his brothers and Tashi, and they all sat down again, watching Patricia with concern in their eyes.

  ‘Are you really all right?’ Amy asked, sitting back down next to her. ‘You don’t think you should lie down some more? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘No, I’m fine, really I am.’ She turned to Amy, her face white, her eyes questioning. ‘What they said. I just want to know what they’re talking about, what they mean. I saw him fall from the bridge near Chiling. I saw him die. No one could have survived that fall. And if he had survived the fall – which he couldn’t have done – he could never have survived the cold night. I don’t know what they mean.’

  Amy looked across the room to Tenzin, and then back to Tashi.

  ‘Patricia thought Kalden was dead, Tashi,’ she began. ‘She thought he’d been killed when he fell from the bridge near Chiling. I thought he was dead. I thought I’d never see him. But you’re saying that he wasn’t killed. That’s what you are saying, aren’t you, that Kalden is still alive?’

  ‘Yes, Kalden still alive. He not killed.’

  He turned to his father and translated what Amy had said to them. The three brothers looked at Amy and Patricia, and nodded. Tenzin started to speak, but Tashi stopped him. He spoke briefly to Tenzin and turned back to Patricia.

  ‘I tell Tenzin I know what happened. I hear it many times. I able to tell you the story.’ And Tashi began to tell them what had happened all those years ago.

  Kalden had seen Patricia trip over the wooden plank and had jumped on to the bridge to get to her as quickly as possible. The bridge had swayed sharply sideways and he’d been thrown off his feet. He’d tried to grab the handrail, but hadn’t been able to, and he’d been thrown off the bridge at an angle. With falling planks striking him, he’d slammed hard into the side of the mountain, felt an agonising pain in his leg, and passed out.

  At some point later, he’d opened his eyes and found blackness all around him. He was in terrible pain, he’d told them. His leg and back hurt, and his body seemed to have been pierced by a thousand needles. He’d cautiously felt around him, and realised that the needles were thorns and that he was in the middle of a mass of rose-bushes. The thorns were digging into his flesh, and with every movement he took, they dug further in. But they had broken his fall and were stopping him from plunging to the bottom of the ravine.

  He realised, too, that they would be some protection against the cold of the night.

  He didn’t fear the cold. He was used to going into the mountains in winter and he understood the cold. But he knew that he must keep awake throughout the night, and every time that he started to close his eyes, he pushed the thorns deeper into his skin.

  Morning came and, in the early light of day, he saw that he was covered in blood and that his leg was twisted. Carefully looking down the steep mountain slope, he saw the jagged rocks below, and he knew that it had been a miracle that he’d survived. And then there was another miracle: he heard the sound of voices on the bridge above him.

  But no one would be able to see him, he realised, as the ridge hung over the slope and he was almost hidden by the rose-bushes. He called out to the men, but his voice was feeble. He called again, and again, his voice getting weaker and weaker. They’d never hear him, he thought in fear and desperation.

  But the men had known that someone had fallen the night before, so perhaps a part of them had been listening for any sounds that there might be. However it came about, they heard his weak cries and one of the men called over the side of the bridge to him, telling him that they would get to him, giving him strength.

  The men then went back to the hut, fetched rope and wood, and returned to the bridge. As soon as they’d made a cover for the hole in the base of the bridge, they crossed to his side of the ravine and prepared ropes to lower to him.

  Fading in and out of consciousness, he could hear them working above him, and at last, after lowering a pony-man and a basket made of rope, they brought him safely to the top of the slope.

  He’d been feverish and in a very bad state and had been taken to a house in Chiling. The family there had looked after him with the aid of the local amchi. Wooden splints had been put on his leg and herbal powder was put all over his torn skin to clean the wounds and keep infection away. Two days later, Tenzin had arrived.

  The men who had found Kalden were the pony-men who’d met Lobsang and Patricia in the hut the night before, so they knew Kalden’s name and the village he’d come from. One of them had gone there to tell his family what had happened, and Tenzin had come back with him to help with the care of his brother. When Kalden was finally strong enough to travel, Tenzin took him home, and his family cared for him until he was well again.

  ‘And his leg?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘It was bad,’ Tashi told her, ‘but he can walk and this is what is important.’

  Patricia and Amy looked at each other, and then at Tashi.

  ‘I know what you wish to ask,’ he said with a smile. ‘You ask where is Kalden now?’

  ‘Yes,’ Patricia said. ‘Where is he, please?’ Amy took her hand and moved closer to her.

  ‘He is in monastery outside village. When he well again, he could not look for you, Patricia – he not know where you are – so he go into monastery. But he comes to us many times. And every time he comes, he talks about you.’

  ‘Can I see him, Tashi?’ she asked. ‘I want to see him again. And I want him to meet his daughter. Will that be all right? Can we see him?’

  Tashi turned and put the question to Tenzin, who answered him.

  ‘We begin to prepare for harvest now,’ Tashi told them. ‘Kalden will come with monks tomorrow.’

  Tenzin spoke again, smiling warmly at Amy and Patricia.

  ‘When Kalden come tomorrow,’ Tashi said, ‘we take him to house where you live when you in Ladakh. You go to post house, too, Patricia. His daughter comes here, to our house, so you and Kalden can talk. Is that good?’

  ‘That’s very good, Tashi. Thank you.’

  ‘Where are you living now? We invite you to stay with us.’

  ‘Thank you very much for your offer, but we’ve already got rooms in a guest house in Alchi. All of our things are there. In fact, the taxi driver will be here any minute now to take us back to Alchi. It isn’t far away, though, and we’ll come back early tomorrow morning.’ She started to stand up. ‘I keep thinking I’m dreaming and that I’ll wake up any minute now. I hope I don’t.’

  ‘You not dream, Patricia,’ Tashi said with a smile.

  Tenzin said something as he stood up, and Tashi looked towards Amy. ‘Tenzin ask the name of Kalden’s daughter.’

  Patricia opened her mouth to reply, but she felt a slight pressure on her arm from Amy, who stood up next to her.

  ‘My name is Nima,’ she said.

  The post house stood in front of Patricia, the front door slightly open. She knew that Kalden was already in the house because Tashi had told her he was.

  One of the children from the village had been waiting for their taxi to appear down the track and at the first sight of the taxi, he’d run off and come back with Tashi. Tashi had told her that Kalden knew that there was a visitor for him, and that the visitor would meet him in the post house, but he did not know who that visitor was. Then, wreathed in smiles, he had taken Amy off into the village, and Patricia had heard him tell her that he was going to introduce her to more of her family.

  She
’d watched Amy until she was out of sight, then she’d started to walk nervously towards the post house, her steps getting quicker the closer she came to the house. She’d reached the top of the path, and had stopped.

  She stared at the house. He was in there. Her Kalden was in there. Unbelievably, she was going to see him again, touch him again.

  Her heart thudding, she began to walk down the path. Reaching the door, she pushed it open wider, went into the downstairs room and closed the door quietly behind her.

  The man in the chair where her father used to sit was reading a book, his back to her. He was dressed very simply in a light grey cotton shirt and casual trousers. The back of the head bent over the book was darkened by a haze of close-cut, greyish-brown hair.

  ‘Kalden,’ she said softly. His back stiffened. He straightened up and stared ahead of him at the wall. The knuckles on the hands that gripped his book went white. ‘Kalden,’ she repeated, moving closer to him. ‘I thought you were dead.’ Her voice caught in her throat. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.’ She broke off, unable to say more.

  Slowly he stood up. Leaning slightly to the left, he turned to face her, and a look of disbelief spread across his face. He took a step towards her, moving awkwardly, his eyes questioning, bewildered. ‘Patricia?’ he asked. ‘Is it Patricia?’ He took another step, and another, each step bringing him closer to her. ‘Patricia?’ he repeated.

  He stood before her, inches from her, her golden man.

  ‘Oh, Kalden.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘It is Patricia. Your Patricia.’

  He took her face gently in the palms of his hands, and intently studied her features: her eyes, her nose, her mouth, the indentation in her chin. Then he raised his fingers to her forehead and lightly traced the thin lines than ran from one side to the other.

  Her breath escaped in a small sigh. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall slightly back and stood there, trembling under the touch of the fingers that ran along each quivering eyelid. His breath was warm against her face as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. She opened her eyes and looked into the depths of his dark brown eyes, and saw the turmoil of emotion in them.

  Her tears trickled over his fingers. Neither of them spoke.

  With a slight smile, he ran the palms of his hands down the sides of her cheeks. Her lips parted as she gazed up into his face, and she heard him draw in his breath.

  ‘My Patricia,’ he murmured, his voice full of wonder.

  Slowly, he ran a finger along first her upper lip, then her lower lip. She caught hold of his hand, put his fingers to her lips and kissed them, one by one. Then she kissed the palm of his hand, and pressed it to her heart.

  ‘I have loved you, Kalden,’ she said quietly, ‘from the moment I saw you, and I’ve never stopped loving you, not for so much as one second.’

  ‘Me, too, Patricia. I always love you.’ His voice broke. ‘I think I never see you again, but I want to. Every time I go out of monastery, maybe to Alchi or Likir or Leh, and I see English-looking people in the streets, I look among them for you. And I talk to them. I ask them if they know Patricia, but no one knows my Patricia. Every time I come back to village, I come first to post house, and I dream I see you sitting outside house with a book. When I not in monk’s robes, I wear English clothes so I feel close to you.’

  ‘I thought you’d been killed when you fell off the bridge. But you weren’t. Lobsang said we had to go on with our journey – he was worried about the snow. We left you and you were still alive. I can’t bear to think of it. If only we’d waited for another day, for just one day. If only we’d given ourselves the time to look for you in the daylight, we could have been together for always. We could have been happy for all these years.’

  She grasped his hand more tightly.

  ‘We not look back, Patricia.’ He lifted his other hand and ran his fingers through her hair, then he let his hand fall to his side. ‘You were right to go on that day. Lobsang was right. Snow often come very early on road to Manali. But that is now long ago. Today you are here and that is most important thing – most wonderful thing.’ He shifted his weight to his other foot.

  ‘Your poor leg. I should have thought,’ she said quickly, and she released his hand. ‘We must sit down. You sit here again and I’ll get the stool.’ She pulled a stool over to the chair and sat down next to him.

  ‘Not like that,’ he said with a smile. ‘You sit so I can see your face.’

  Changing her position so that they could look at each other, she sat as close to him as she could get. He raised his hand to her face and lightly touched her cheek. Then he sighed deeply and put his hand back in his lap. ‘You are even more beautiful today than day when I meet you, Patricia. But I must not talk like that now. I am a monk. Tell me about your life in England. Tell me if you have a husband.’

  She stared into his eyes. ‘In my heart, you have always been my husband, Kalden. There could never have been anyone else.’ Then she took a deep breath. ‘Before I tell you what I did when I got back to England, there is something I have to tell you first – I can’t talk about my life in England without telling you.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘What must you tell me?’

  ‘When I left Ladakh, I didn’t know that I was carrying a baby, but I was. We have a child, Kalden. We have a daughter. I called her Nima. She’s thirty-two years old and she’s here with me now.’

  He sat very still, staring at her. Then he turned his head to look at the wall in front of him. His hands went to his forehead, trying to make sense of her words.

  ‘I have a child?’ he asked, turning back to her. ‘I have a daughter? This is what you are saying. I have daughter and she is here in Ladakh? In the village?’

  ‘Yes, she is, and she’s longing to meet you.’

  He stood up and looked down at her. ‘We have a daughter?’ A slow smile spread across his face. ‘A daughter. This morning, I get up and I am alone, like every morning. But now I am here with beautiful Patricia. I am not alone, and I have a daughter.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘We go now, Patricia. We go to our daughter.’

  She stood up and took the hand he stretched out to her. In his eyes, she saw a reflection of the love and happiness that she felt. Self-conscious, they smiled at each other, then they let their hands fall to their sides.

  Patricia took a step back. ‘She’s in your house, Kalden. She’s with Tashi and Tenzin. If she’s not there, they’ll know where she is.’

  Trembling, he led the way to the door, pulled it open and stood aside to let Patricia go out first. As she started to walk through the doorway, she saw the figure standing at the top of the path, and she stopped.

  ‘You go first,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘I think there’s someone out there who’s very impatient to meet you.’

  Patricia sat with Amy in a restaurant in Leh, their suitcases at their side.

  ‘You’re very quiet today, Amy,’ she said.

  ‘Am I? I’m sorry.’ Amy bit her lip. ‘I suppose it’s that I feel really sad to be leaving. I’ve only just met Kalden, and now we’re leaving him. He’ll be on his own again – I know he’s got his family, but that’s different. And you must feel the same. We will come back again soon, won’t we? And Andrew must come with us next time.’

  Patricia smiled at her daughter. ‘Yes, we’ll come back as soon as we can. But for now, we’ve got a bit of time left, so if there’s anything you want to buy before we leave, I suggest you do it here. Leh Airport’s not like Heathrow – there aren’t any shops there.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ Amy said, getting up. ‘I haven’t bought anything for Andrew yet, and I want to get him something typically Ladakhi. I’ll do that now. I won’t be long.’

  ‘I hope you find something,’ Patricia called after her.

  Smiling to herself, she opened her book and stared at the page with unseeing eyes. In her head, she was planning her return to Ladakh on the first flight after
the winter snow had gone. She and Kalden had spent their eleven days together catching up on the missing years, but they’d only just scratched the surface, and there was still so much left to say.

  As they’d strolled across the plateau, walking slowly because of his leg, he’d told her about his struggle to go on living after he’d lost her, and how his great sadness had made his family anxious about him. Finally, he’d realised that he had to put aside his misery and accept the destiny that he’d known was his from the moment that he’d reached the age of understanding.

  Although he was sure that he’d lost her forever, he’d never been able to bring himself to make a lifetime commitment to the monastery – it would have been too final; it would have killed off the small ray of hope that flickered deep within him, that kept him alive. As a result, he’d gone into the monastery as a short-term monk. This meant that he had greater freedom over the clothes he wore when he wasn’t in the monastery, and he was able to visit his family and help them out at times when extra help was needed.

  She had wanted to be able to picture his life, and he’d described his room in the monastery: his low, narrow bed and hard mattress; his straight-backed chair and wooden table; the shelving on the wall for his books and texts. Most of his life as a monk was spent chanting the texts and performing the religious rituals for his village and the neighbouring villages, he’d told her. Every family paid him in food, or in cash, which was happening more frequently.

  He gave the money to the monastery. He was grateful to the monastery for giving him a home and security, and he had made a life for himself as a monk, but it was not the life that he would have chosen for himself: that life would have been a life with Patricia.

  And Patricia had told him about her life, about her father’s unyielding attitude when he’d learnt that she was pregnant, and how she’d been forced to choose between parting with her baby or leaving home and managing without help or money. She’d cried as she’d told him how much she’d longed to keep their daughter, but had had no way of doing so. With horror in his eyes, he’d listened to her describe how Nima had been pulled from her arms and given to another family.