Chapter 10
North Bengal
Late at night, I got locked into the train’s toilet. It was a rare moment of human emptiness. The train’s clanking groans muffled my cries for help. I began to panic and imagine the worst. The steamy stench of urine and encrusted dry shit made me want to vomit. My knuckles were bruised and infected. I began to breathe deeply and wait for deliverance at the next unknown station. It came as a surprised Indian opened the door to relieve himself. He lifted the rusty bolt from the outside and we looked at each other in an exhausted and dirty sort of way. This was IT too. My first IT experience in India.
New Jalpaiguri. This was my final stop. I was in a boom town in lusher Northern Bengal. The dry dust-bowl of Uttar Pradesh was now just a memory. This was a new place, caught between the steamy jungle and the towering Himalayas. The faces were darker and the bodies thinner and smaller, but the CHAOS was the same. A coolie grabbed my bags and we were off into the unknown. Just outside the station, a troop of cabbies surrounded and pounced on me and the poor exhausted coolie. Excited shouts and wild gestures swirled in the air as we haggled and swayed in search of a fair price. Finally, I settled on a short and stocky Nepali. My new friend zipped through the crowded streets of Siliguri and began the slow ascent up the mountainous road to Sonada.
We passed huge green tea plantations, vast fields of yellow wildflowers, and the usual jeep and bus traffic careening and screeching through the narrow lanes. The high elevation made me dizzy and I struggled to clear my head in this newfound heaven. The view was stunning and intoxicating. Green rust-colored hills carpeted with dancing flowers of many sizes and colors bewitched my imagination. It all felt like a dream, in this strange and enticing environment.
The Nepalis seemed to be a nation in themselves. They were short and squat and Oriental-looking; they carried immense loads on their backs. I saw across enormous vegetated ravines patchworks of agriculture on steep slopes. The cold morning sun warmed the dirty shanty homes that clung precariously to each hypnotic twist in the road. The people seemed friendly, but I could feel tension just below the surface of the smiles. The Nepalis were Gurkha warriors who knew how to fight, and political graffiti defaced the landscape with an angry regularity.
Upon arrival in Sonada, I inquired at Kalu’s monastery whether the young Lama had arrived yet. No one had seen him in years. I started to worry. Without my teacher, there would be no pilgrimage to Bodgaya. Communication with the Tibetans was a confusing and frustrating exercise. Only a handful of the monks could speak passable English. Nevertheless, a young, friendly sherpa monk named Mingma was assigned to take care of my needs. Sonada was a large Kagyu monastery complex buzzing with little bee-like monks racing back and forth with gleaming angelic speed.
Four of these little tykes were drafted to haul my load; they did so without complaint. Mingma showed me my new quarters, a bare room, with a single mattress, overlooking the mountains that ringed the monastery. I could sense that the Himalayas were now within sneaky reach. I was in a new mind-zone, but couldn’t appreciate it fully. The non-stop travel was generating a mind-lag. I decided to rest and wait for the young Lama. I made a little altar and adjusted the photos of my favorite gurus with great care; they had brought me here safely and I would need their blessings and protection more than ever in the days and nights ahead. I put Summer’s picture on a shelf, close to the altar. She was my new guardian angel. I would need her help too. I sat quietly and night eventually came.
The Nebulae as seen from Sonada:
One could say that the Milky Way is like a single organism and that the stars within are its cells. Like cells, each star has a specific life cycle, and over that life cycle it generates materials that are released into the organism as a whole, giving it its character. This inter-stellar medium is the Milky Way’s circulatory system, the most visible manifestations of which are clouds of GAS and DUST called nebulae that stream all around the galaxy. These clouds recycle the elements made by the stars and supernovae and are the raw material from which new stars systems are made. From Earth this all looks like a network of expanding and sneezing bubbles, three-dimensional ripples spreading outward through space towards the black reaches of infinity.
Inside the black reaches of infinity:
The nights were bone-chilling cold in Sonada. It was winter now. I went out for a walk and got lost, I felt miserable and forgotten.
Dear Guardian Angel:
I’ve been here only two days, but it seems like a terribly long time. Last night I peeked into the shrine-room of this strange place and saw the old body of Kalu. It was spooky, kinda weird, and terribly beautiful. It was gilded in gold and his face just kinda stared down at me as if, God knows what, maybe he was measuring me up, or something. Who knows. The next day the monks roused me out of bed and drove me down with this Spanish guy to see the new three-year-old kid. You know, the new Kalu. Well, he was kinda cute and boy did he hate having his picture taken with me. He just screamed and yelled. It was quite a scene. But this kid’s got power. You can feel it, and he doesn’t mind if you take a snap of him ALONE, only. Go figure it. I mean it’s so weird to see this applied karma in action; it’s like this physical impermanence is pretty much harnessed in a systematic way for the benefit of all sentient beings. Do you think this is too far out? I think it’s pretty cool Buddhist engineering, if you want my opinion. It’s like this engineering is driving and pushing this divine recycling process. Just what is a Buddha, you may ask? Well, it’s like a form of life that has achieved the highest evolutionary perfection possible. A Buddha has perfect wisdom and perfect compassion. Buddhas see life as it is and want to make all other beings peaceful and happy. They are not stressed out and are not really even dead or alive. They kind of just exist beyond ALL THAT. Buddhas see everything as inter-connected and see evil as just bad habits swirling around since beginningless time. When you see THIS you’re free and never separate. You feel joy and are enriched by the happiness of others. This generosity and selfless love saves lives. Do you understand me? You know, not too far away from the little guy was this other Buddha. He was really sweet and subtle, just like you. Everyone called him Shatrel Rinpoche. He gave out these little black pills which I was told to swallow for my health. It was a great blessing, I was told. This Shatrel Rinpoche also gave me a red cord to put around my neck. It was all pretty cool and I wish you were here to see it all. It’s different here. It’s like I’m on two different roads. There’s the road ROAD with people, and cows, and cars. And there’s the subtle warm freeway of the spirit which is becoming more and more important here. There’s all kinds of subtle life that I’m beginning to see and feel. It’s always been there, but I haven’t been able to see it and feel it until now. These Buddhas have been a big help here on this new and strange freeway. They kinda glow and guide the way on it. You know somewhere in the crazy chaos of this place I always feel you. I really do. I also lost my little red cord the old Buddha gave me.
Yours,
Grim Determination
The high altitude and bitter cold were knocking me off my feet. I also was having trouble with the culture shock. The food at the monastery was inedible and I foolishly decided to hang out for awhile in Darjeeling. DJ was a bizarre mix of Indians, Nepalis, and Tibetans rubbing and pushing each other endlessly in colorful crowded markets. DJ also had a quaint European feel to it. The British had developed DJ into an inviting and exclusive hill spa to escape the summer heat during the old colonial days. The congested alleys and bustling throngs exhausted me. I just kept moving despite the danger of imminent and personal collapse. I researched how to wire money from home and missed the last bus to Sonada. I had little money and felt terribly ill and feverish. I trekked to the youth hostel and got there just as night was falling. Through sheer will, I found it. I was rapidly losing strength from lack of food; and a thumb infection weakened and infuriated me, as I huddled in my freezing room cursing my bad fortune and preparing myself for “early death.” But it was not too be. A Japanese trekker gave me water and antibiotics, and I began to realize that I wasn’t really prepared for India. Some Indians soon showed up and sat all night playing cards. I finally turned off the switch and they got the message, but this was the beginning of a new and terribly annoying pattern. Indians basically didn’t give a FUCK about other people. I would encounter this mad behavior at the post-office, in the markets, and on the bus. India was a free-for-all. I would soon start to hate it; and learn that this attitude would get me NOWHERE.
The next morning the fever was gone. Sleep had been very deep. I felt refreshed, and I walked out onto the balcony. Then there they were like a miraculous apparition. THE HIMALAYAS! The obscuring clouds and mist were gone. Like shining jewels, these towering homes of the gods could be seen as clear as daylight. I gasped and struggled to find words. None came. I felt totally dwarfed, and a strong and powerful feeling of respect and devotion began to fill me. YES! The mountains were GURUS. These glorious mountains had the same qualities of advanced beings. It was a combination of towering strength and blissful lightness. It generated what some would call PRESENCE. It was an elusive and paradoxical combination that was difficult to describe, but easy to feel. All the masters had this presence. It was now a genuine experience. No amount of reading about the spiritual path could substitute for this. I felt I was receiving an instant blessing. I felt rejuvenated and clear. I rushed back to the monastery and gave some wandering Americans a tour of old Kalu’s bedroom. I could feel the lightness and strength here too. My appreciation was growing and my pujas were improving with this new awareness. I was beginning to understand what REAL POWER was.
I was hooked. I took a bus to Ghoom and made an exhausting climb up to tiger hill. I felt exhausted and vulnerable as I raced against the sunset in search of lodging. Suddenly, there THEY WERE AGAIN! THE HIMALAYAS! I gasped and swooned. Tangerines quenched my thirst in celebration. This was definitely IT. Nothing prepared one for this wild hit. I was completely awake. I was floating and exploring PURE PRESENCE and the wild emotions experiencing it. All the years and troubles and kicks, and now this! I made an improvised deal with a family guarding a decrepit and boarded-up tourist lodge. For fifty rupees, slightly more than a dollar and a half, I was given a large silent room and a meal. The pure silence alone was worth the money. I could at last hear myself think. I could feel my fears pounding me silly. I saw the source of all my painful yearnings ó for they were just the daily delusions of life. Angels whispered into my delirious ears. My mind could finally see how its very thoughts plagued and drained it. I took out my battered-up legal pad and tried to sort out my confusion. Where to write? What to do next? Was Summer OK? Where was the Lama? I wanted to open up new space in my mind for a new map. I could sense a new realignment subtly moving into place.
I woke up early and caught a ride with some Bengalis to the observatory. It was cold and dark. The Bengalis were a friendly lot, and one of them invited me to Calcutta. But we were all here to see the sunrise and it was like enlightenment itself. Dawn slowly transformed the darkness into light. First a peep, and once the threshold was crossed, an expanding awareness beyond words. This was the daily teaching given by the sun, the clouds, and the mountains, but it was appreciated by only a few. I slowly walked down the mountain in triumph.
The next phase was confusing. I boarded a bus to Mirik, a hill station near the Nepal border. I wanted to pay my respects to Bokar Rinpoche, the Lama who had come to San Francisco and given me refuge. Bokar’s monastery was large, but more intimate than Sonada. I was ushered in quickly to see Bokar and got a blessing and a silk scarf. I was also treated with herb pills for stomach and flu problems. Mirik was also warmer and I didn’t want to leave. It was here that disaster was planted. I conceived a ridiculous plan to stay in India until the next autumn. I neither had the time nor the resources for such craziness. I had silly fantasies about meeting Summer in India. These were just that, fantasies, but I wrote a letter to my stepmother telling her I would probably miss stupid Maxim’s wedding. I would pay dearly later for this slip, long after I had dropped this crazy idea.
Bokar’s secretary told me the Grand Wizard and the Rebellious Regent had both broken samaya with the little boy in Tibet. To break samaya was serious business. Samaya was a personal vow to a Buddha, and to break it deluded the mind to no end. All the Grand Wizard’s followers would suffer, but the innocent ones would suffer much less. They didn’t know any better. I thought sadly about all those Germans, and Poles, and Hungarians, and Austrians, who had treated me so well, but were now caught up in this mess. What would really happen to them? I mulled this over silently on the way back to Darjeeling. I spent the night there and the next morning, when I returned to Sonada, Mingma ran up to me excitedly and shouted: “HEY, LAMA, HE COME!”
