1. Nyima Kyab And Dharamshala ( Chapter 1) Written by Loma Gyal Translated by Choepa Kyab The day Nyima Kyab arrived in Dharamshala was the 1st of July. On that day, the summit of Dharamshala mountains was engulfed by mist, and the Dharamshala forest saturated with rain. It seemed that a boy was ill with a disease and a girls eyes were overflowing with tears. Today was the day Nyima Kyab left behind Dawa Kyi and his homeland exactly six years ago. He was, since then, not able to see the clear and blue sky-like pasture, and radiant rays of the sun which were like a smile. The whole body of Dharamshala was enfolded in fog and moisture. Like tomorrow and the future, the distant mountains, rivers and forest couldnt be seen at all. In the thick clouds, Nyima Kyab went to circumambulate around the Main Temple along a narrow, zigzagging and rugged passage. Because his vision was obscured by the mist, a heavy sigh automatically came into his mouth from within his lungs. Depending on the speed of his walk and thickness of the mist, the peaks of mountains, remote trees and vehicles on the street could have been spotted, but, all these phenomena were clouded after a second. That was like how a man pursues his dreams. It was the symbol of a mans future too. Todays weather was so awful and clammy. He wanted to leave the passage and thus walked in the direction of his residence. When he approached a big rock by the path, he came across an aged woman holding a walking stick. At that moment, noticed him, the old woman leaned on the hand staff with her right hand, and put her left hand on her back, slightly bending forward, Son, where are you going alone? Im going to my dwelling. Todays weather is not nice and neither is the road. Are you a student? Which school are you from? Yes, Im. Im currently studying in Varanasi University. I see, thats great. Do your study well. Now my generations hair has turned white, and we are ready to pass away. It has been almost sixty years since I came into exile. You see, it is hard to say whether or not my generation will be able return to our homeland. Shortly after, Nyima Kyab said as a consolation, Dear grandma, dont worry about it, dont worry, you will. Her deep eyes filled with the tears of hope and depression, she said to Nyima Kyab We pin a big hope on you all. You guys are the seeds of Tibet. The future of Tibet is in your hands. If we die here, you are the ones who have to take the handfuls of our ashes back to our homeland. Nowadays you must not forget the greatness of His Holiness The Dalai Lama, and preserve the Tibetan language and culture. Thats my request as an old woman. Nyima Kyabs inspiration was sparked, Sure, Ill certainly study hard. Trust me, he said in a respectful manner. Then the old woman held her left hand on her forehead, looking at the side of the path that laid before them, Boy, now Im leaving. You shouldnt forget my request. said she, firmly and seriously, and slowly walked in the narrow, zigzagging and rugged road into the fog. Moved by the words, Nyima Kyab was gazing at the back of the old woman. It seemed that her footprints imprinted into the road symbolized her past years of challenges and sorrows. Gradually, the sight of her back became vague and vanished. In the heart of Nyima Kyab, shone another sun, and he returned to his room confronting the mist. ( Chapter 2 ) That night, Nyima Kyab thought of Dawa Kyi. For him, thinking of her was like smoking. Especially, when remembering her genuine smile, the smoke of his cigarette enhanced and grew thick. At that moment, it was like the rain was spilling from a vessel and then splashing sound of the lashing rain broke the silence of the night, but, it couldnt stir his heart that was melting in Dawa Kyi. Besides listening to the sound of the rain, he insisted on falling asleep while thinking of her, so dear to his heart as the water to fish. No sooner had he woke up than he remembered his dream of the last night. In the dream, he was in Tibet. Moreover, with his father, he climbed a spiritual mountain to appease ethereal protectors. He enjoyed singing and dancing with his fellows who he missed. The most interesting part of his dream was that he walked through an abundant and green farm with Dawa Kyi, hand in hand. Having reflected on the last nights dream so freshly and impulsively, he immediately took out a stained and rolled notebook and jotted down everything. This was perhaps another means of writing his autobiography. Though there were three beds in his room, he was the only one to stay there those days. For a single man, it was too big. Nyima Kyab felt as if the room were a completely quiet foothill of a mountain where a hermit would live in a cave. The four walls were seemingly like a pale face of a dead old man. The windows, devoid of any decoration, resembled an opening mouth of an aged one suffering from the plaque of hunger and thirst. He ate the tablet which he had to have in the morning for his appetite, with cold water from a bottle. And he remained thinking about if he needed to go for breakfast. He went into the kitchen anyway, but, there was nothing to eat. The stove that had been not used for a long time was covered by the layers of dusk. The bucket, set in the corner, used to fetch water, was dried out, and some big and dark ants were displaying the suffering of insect life around the container. These things were perhaps the mirror of hell presented by the God of Death. On the cupboard were only few huge bowls and plates, nothing else. And if you brought your head much closer to the shelf, you could smell rancid oil. Then, he promptly remembered the Amdo bread that was being sold in the street. He then directed his steps toward the street. Prior to going to the trailer of Amdo bread at the centre of Dhasa, he curiously looked at the buildings, neither too tall nor too low. Most of the doors of in his sight were not opened yet. And also mostly the windows were closed. The flags on the roofs were dank in the rain, clinging here and there, seeming like sleepy flags trying to sleep, as if an exhausted man was trying to relax. Some drops of water were falling down on the garbage by the street from the corners of the building. Street-dogs, crowded, were sleeping, one next to another around the house of the mantra-wheels. The stray dogs were weary, slim and skinny, suffering from hunger and thirst, at times, as if the sound of the turning wheels provided them a sense of comfort. Walked five steps, he met Tashi and Dorlo, old school mates, when the two were going for the circumambulation of the Main Temple, the residence of H.H The Dalai Lama. They first shook hands followed by the exchange of welcome greetings. Eyes flushed, Dorlo said, This is maybe the last time we can meet and its hard to say if we will be able to meet again. while stroking his shoulder a couple of times. Wondered, Nyima Kyab asked, Why is it so? Where have you two planned to go? But, Tashi interrupted Dorlo saying in forceful voice, “ It is difficult to continuously go to school. We are becoming older and older day after day, the path of future dimmer and dimmer simultaneously. Its better to go abroad and make some money. Nyima Kyab was rather taken aback, and remained touching his lip with his right hand. The moment they three were standing together there, Dorlo,,,,,,, Dorlo, a feminine and strangely familiar voice came from behind. Their last meeting ended in such a way. At that time, slowly striding on the road, Nyima Kyab fell into a thought about the evaluation of a individual and national interest. Are the two ideas of individual and national interests contradictory? Grew more pensive and musing. When he was in the depth of thought, a small shop before him opened its door and the cracking sound stirred up the sincerity of his analysis. ( Chapter 3) There were only two trailers of Amdo bread when Nyima Kyab got there. From where he was standing, he could see the whole left sides of the two. In addition, the round moon-like bread were swaddled in a colorful rug, and put in a small rectangular box on which some were piled one upon another. Beside the box were white plastic bags waving restlessly according to the direction of wind. The woman selling bread was seemingly older than forty years, wearing a dark round hat, whose sides were smeared by dirtiness. Many black tiny specks were everywhere on the hat. A silk string hung from her hat tugged the top of her nose when moved. Some dust of flour on the layer of wrinkles in the shallow base of her nose rested. And some long black hairs grew around the small black mole nearby her nose. She was not wearing any golden or silver earrings. Yet, as an earring, she had put on a visible black ring. A dark thick blouse was put on around the upper part of her body, as she sat, a rosary hung down from her hand. On the sleeves of her blouse a few unclear English words were written horizontally. The blouse was worn out and torn. The white inner shirt was slightly appearing. Except for the mala hanging down in her hand, she stayed motionless. It moved so little only when she sold bread. Nyima Kyab took one step forward to come closer to the woman. Her eyes were profound, cheeks bulging, a trace of an old wound on the peak of her nose, lips pale and cracking. Nyima Kyab thought to himself that he had looked at her in such detail like reading a book of one generation or listening to the story of one century. During that time, the wind blew so strongly, the gongs of the temples sounded melodiously. And again, Nyima Kyab gazed at the woman who was to him like a book and story. Customers came there and pasted continuously. The most beautiful things about her were the striking glow from her eyes and a smile flowering on her lips. Nyima Kyab felt her beauty added some color and grace to the small bazaar. Moreover, he sensed that people bought her glowing smile and eyes when they bought her bread. He could only see the back of other woman there and her back somehow appeared so familiar to him. Out of uncontrollable curiosity and in inexorable frenzy, he went in front of her and then noticed that she was Karma Tso, a formal school mate. No sooner than she saw him, she stood up greeting him, shaking his hands while her face displayed a picture of shyness, wonder and sadness at same moment. Startled, Nyima Kyab was mentally bombarded with a thousand questions like arrows lodging in his body. Nevertheless, he barely spoke out Tashi Delek to her in turn. On her forehead was a new wound he hadnt seen. Anyone who looked at her face would be able to observe her scar first. Nyima Kyab then decided to buy two pieces of bread and put his hands into his packet to get money. But, a few big drops of rain fell on his back from nowhere and suddenly the intensity of the rain incredibly increased. Karma Tso abruptly attempted to collect her bread in a hasty manner. The monsoon of Dhasa shouldnt be relied on. The monsoon of Dhasa shouldnt be relied on! said she, again and again. Saying nothing, Nyima Kyab helped her collect the bread. Carrying the white bag and small chair in his hands, he went to her dwelling along with her in unrelenting rain. Her room was in the Amdo Village, a small town 500 feet away from Mcleoganj, Dharamshala. When they arrived in the room, they had gotten drenched by the rain. The room was neither big nor small, with two beds inside, a separate bathroom and kitchen. Nyima Kyab hadnt yet had breakfast. Now it was almost 9:00am. So, he had some light breakfast with her. When he inquired her why she hadnt continued her schooling, rather, was selling bread here like this, she added some tea to his cup, sitting next to Nyima Kyab and looked depressed, If I talk about it, I feel either ashamed or sad, or the fire of anger rising in me. Therefore, its much better not to talk about it. Its better not. said she, sitting up and going into the kitchen. Now Nyima Kyab grew more curious, a sheer excitement rose within him to know about her accident. Bringing a bowl of tea in her hands, she came back from the kitchen and sat beside him. Again, Nyima Kyab said, Whats really the matter? Its so disappointing that you were then the best among all of us in every side. After a couple of moments wait, she bent her down, avoiding looking at his face, and muttered, On one occasion, I came to Dhasa in order to speak with my family through QQ. I didnt have any relative or reliable companion here. But, I met an elder man from my same town in Tibet. And I stayed there in his room that night. He assured me that he would not come home in the night. But, unfortunately or sadly, the elder man came back in the middle of night and struck out the door. After a little while, without speaking anything, he crawled so near to me. His whole body smelt of wine and he reached out his arms and clasped my legs. Being utterly terrified and freighted, I flailed and kicked him. He grew terribly furious, grabbing my hair and flinging me on the floor. At that moment, my forehead got injured by a chair and scar still remains here. narrated she, while stroking the scar with her hand out of uncomfortable feeling. With chagrin and disappointment, Nyima Kyab said, scratching his head with his right hand, Who was that man indeed? Did he leave then? It is of no use to know who the man really was. No, he didnt leave then. He threatened that he would kill me if I wasnt quiet. In the end, my,,,,,,,. At that moment, she was no longer able to carry on, but wept. As a means of consolation ,Nyima Kyab said, dont cry now, this time everyone learned to be clever and hardly people are worth of our belief. Thats, in fact, embarrassing and disgusting. And then, he turned silent for he didnt know what to say. She was still wailing, bending her head forward. But, after some time she paused crying and continued, I only knew I had become pregnant two months after I came back to school. Nostalgic or mixed feelings of outrage, fear and disappointment arose in throng in my heart. Later, I shared the secret with my friend Yangzom, and ultimately had no any other alternative but to decide to take leave from school and came to Dhasa to find that guy. But, he had already gone abroad one week before and I was confounded about what to do next. With the help of friend Yangzoms elder sister who lives here in Dhasa. I took some mount of money from my parents who are in Tibet and went to a few hospitals for medical examinations. She was speaking there, someone knocked on the door. She rose up, going to open the door. There was one lady who, after they got introduced to each other by Karma Tso, Nyima Kyab came to realize was Dadhon Tso, the elder sister of friend Yangzom. Now it was about half past ten and the rained paused suddenly. When Nyima Kyab tried to leave, Karma Tso followed and escorted him outside the room, saying Nyima Kyab, you are really good! Carry on with your study. But, Ill return to Tibet before Lolar (Tibetan New Year). Life is very hard here since I dont have any family or relative to rely or depend on. On the top of that, I even cant make living for myself alone here in Dhasa, and I am not happy mentally as well. Nyima Kyab then bid her farewell, shaking her hands, and returned heading towards his room. On the way to room, so many questions came flocking into Nyima Kyabs mind like the rains in Dhasa. One that clicked on the screen of his mind was all about the child she conceived, and why the child was not in sight, or whether the baby died in the process of giving birth or was killed by some legal medication. Because the rain had stopped just a few minutes before, the gutters by the road were brimming with dirty, polluted water, flowing hastily toward somewhere. Sometimes, the nearby gutters were blocked by some trash, the yellowish dirty sewage overflowing onto the road. Nyima Kyabs shoes were drenched. The trees by the road were moist, the branches were bending their heads down as if they were mourning someone dead. Moreover, all the nests on the trees had fallen down on the ground and the eggs were smashed at the same time. It was guaranteed that many ants’ nests had been washed away by the pouring rain. Though it was not raining anymore, the sky was covered by clouds. It could easily be anticipated that it would rain again before long. But, people were going here and there, to and fro on the road, so the road grew muddy and unpleasantly damp. And the trace of people left behind in the road was horrible. Nyima Kyab looked at the face of everyone who went past him, wondering if all these people equally had such a melancholic story like Karma Tsos, and whether all people were similarly mean, pitiless and evil like the man. Standing unmoving in the side of the road and resting, Nyima Kyab took a long breath and shot glance at the distance. The dense forest and sharp peaks of the mountains of Dhasa were still cloaked with the mist and cloud. How vague and dim it was! When Nyima Kyab got home, he was completely exhausted, both physically and mentally. He sat on his bed leaning back and thinking about Karma Tsos heartbreaking story. At last, he had been able to figure out why she failed to carry her study. ( Chapter 4) Shortly after lunch, it began showering again, wind blowing inside through the windows, waving the curtains. The map hanging beside the windows also began waving, knocking against the wall. Nyima Kyab rose and tied a few knots on the curtain. When once he looked outside of the windows, the trees were humbly standing, obediently lined up in the pouring rain as if they had made some mistakes or commuted some other crimes and authorities were conflicting on them punishments. At times, the window blew more strongly and the trees moved back and forth as if someone soothing or pampering them out of affection and they in turn moved their bodies out of utter satisfaction and sensual pleasure. The flags in the wind on the roofs of the neighbors house that he could see vaguely were exactly like a dying man who waved his hands to bid farewell. No sooner were the flags seen in the foggy and chilly weather. The scriptures imprinted in them were almost already washed away by rain and weathered away by wind, and now there were merely some hardly visible traces. Amidst the rain, Nyima Kyab shot the arrow of his glance at the distant valleys beneath the mountains whose peaks were obscured by clouds, whose beauty, grace, stability, stillness and resonance were all hidden. The whole environment was enclosed by the rain. What is the exact reason why Nyima Kyab was judging and perceiving the place in such a depressing way? Without any pause, the rain remained relentless, maybe was even stronger than what it was before. The phenomenon of the rain observed through the windows filled Nyima Kyabs heart with agony and sorrow, unlocking the memory of a bygone accident. That was an excruciatingly painful incidence which led to the suicide of one of his friends. The causes of his suicide, which he had jotted down in his parting letter, were; Being a refugee is a night that never dawn. Wrong beliefs have taken my life. Standing beside the window, motionless, Nyima Kyab was suddenly frightened and horrified by a sudden thunder clap. His friend had once committed suicide beside a window in the darkness. By remembering this, Nyima Kyab sat on the chair beside the window, and took out his spotted diary book in which he was trying to put down his recollection of his friend, who had taken his life three year ago. Nyima Kyab wrote, Dear friend, you have already gone away, leaving behind a reflection on the window. Today, through that reflection, Im observing the rain and weather in this circumstance. If we perceive and believe the way it rains, it augured well that your decision was such a wonderful and deliriously happy one. Dear friend, today, I miss you so much! After that, the windows were closed and the curtain unfolded, and Nyima Kyab got in his bed and leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. ( Chapter 5) In the evening, the clouds were scattered here and there, everywhere, as if an untamed boy had stoned them. They were like flock of sheep with no shepherd, some were heaped like white flowers. How remarkably beautiful the blue and clean sky appeared from or through the clouds comparable to ocean and dream. Now the sun was setting behind the peaks of mountains. The crimson rays of the setting sun shining from the peaks were like the final disappointed glance a noble man shot at the world. The crimson western clouds spontaneously grew darker and the otherwise resplendent clouds lost their grace. Understandable! Its a great loss as far as this weather is concerned. Its again a failure as long as this circumstance is regarded. Nyima Kyab remained staring at the scarlet, setting sun, his heart stricken by panic and menace. The current of torture went through his whole body. A few minutes slipped by and a prayer rose in him that tomorrow would have a brighter and better sun, but, it boded that it would probably rain tonight. When the sun had set behind the mountains, Nyima Kyab felt a tide of coldness raising within him as if another sun had set in heart. Coming back to his own room and thinking about what to eat for dinner, he had no appetite for anything he sat. After drinking a cup of cold water, in his rooms corridor, gazing at the night of Dhasa. Through his teary eyes, Nyima Kyab observed Dhasas night thoroughly, Dhasas lights from every block appeared as vaguely as the light of stars obscured by thin layers of clouds, or lights observed by eyes which were filled with tears. The nearby trees steadied themselves in the dark night as if they were the invincible warriors and valiant fighters who protected many humble and meek lives in the darkness from the most virulent attackers and cunning intruders. Unfortunately l, very few could recognize the peerless feat these tireless heroes had done in the darkness. Thinking about it, Nyima Kyab was profoundly motivated and instilled with an unflinching determination to stand against the darkness. He resolved to keep his decision alive in his heart with all of his energy. Other people in general were only able to notice the flowers blossoming and leaves waving in the cool breezes in the daytime. It deeply pained his heart to realize that the innocent kindness and unsurpassable courage of the trees in fact was overlooked. The days people lived were in fact long nights obscured by darkness and coldness. The new realization that had dawned on him now in reality brought him unprecedented sadness that dominated the entire area of his heart. Sometimes, the barks of wild dogs recreated from a distance, plunging Dhasas night into a melancholic feeling of menace, agony, grief and complaint. At times, when some clowns shouted and screamed with a high pitch, Nyima Kyab became morose and moody as if a flock of wild birds was alerted and abruptly rushed away in his heart. To distract the mental peace, which is comparable to the calmness of a ocean whose tides ebb down and quiet seclusion of a hermitage, is believed the most sinful and indecent act in the world. By realizing this, Nyima Kyab wished he would have wings and fly to a remote place. Not only had the darkness already swaddled the earth, but also had he no ideas at all about where to go in this moonless night. It still had many hours to dawn. Nyima Kyab entered into his room and came out with a glass of cold water in his hands. All of sudden, the light went off and there was no more twinkling light any more. How perfectly dark Dhasas night was! The rain began pouring five minutes after the light had gone off. Processively or gradually, the rain grew even much more stronger. The aspect of rain in this absolute darkness except the random sparks of fire flies was rather dreadful. In the dark room, which one was not able to notice a finger pointing at ones brow, Nyima Kyab prayed that the clouds would fade away and sky would be cleansed yesterday, leaning back on his bed and thinking about Dhasas night. (Chapter 6) By the time, Nyima Kyab fell asleep. In his dream, he was left startled in the heart of a jungle that had been smeared by strained by blood. The leaves turned into dry and branches were transformed into pale bones in his sight. Before him appeared passage embellished with the mingled colors of white and black. He dashed along with the passage, full of nervous feelings, abruptly, plunged into a dark cave. He was awakened by the pain of his broken bones. Instantly, he crouched on his bed and stroked his back and waist with his hands. His whole body was pouring with sweat as if it had been soaked in water. In his chest, his heart kept thumping. Suddenly, he felt pain in his stomach. It was already twelve and the rain was showering with more force. The lights had gone off and everything remained darkness. Disappointedly, the old disease in Nyima Kyabs bowl grew from bad to worse. As soon as he sensed it, he immediately searched for anything edible and the tablets on the table by his bed, but, he found nothing. Usually, his pain was reduced when he ate something. Today, he couldnt find anything to eat, there was indeed nothing to eat in his room. His pain became intense like a stone piercing into his body. It hurt him as if something was being lodged into his lung from the back. He slept on his back first, secondly, on his belly, then on his side. No matter what position he tried to sleep in, the pain didnt subside. Eventually, being desperate, he slept in a way with both his eyes shut, teeth tightened, head bent forward, legs curled and fists clenched to bear the agony. In a little while, he awoke and remembered the dangerous dream he had dreamed just couple of minutes before. An unprecedented tension rose in his heart and the pain hadnt lessened, yet, like the rain that still continued. The noisy sound of the irritating shower seemed so distracting like a lost or bereaved child crying, someone was calling out mournful chants. When Nyima Kyab heard this noise made by the storming rain, it seemed that his suffering grew more and more intense. Being upset, he wondered about the possible relationship between the agony in his stomach and the rain out. After some time, the pain became less intense, and feeling relatively calm, he fell asleep spontaneously. How terrible the night was. When he woke up in the morning, it was half past seven. Nyima Kyabs body was consumed by tiredness and his physical energy was depleted. Getting up slowly, he looked outside through the window. Though the rain had stopped, the thick mist on the mountain hadnt faded away, the black clouds in space hadnt withered away. Thus, the vivid blue sky couldnt be seen, the spacious green pasture couldnt be viewed. The warm soft rays of the sun couldnt be experienced, and the resplendent high mountains couldnt be observed. Therefore, both Dhasas internal and external worlds were still clammy, damp and dim. Today was July 3rd.
Posted on: Thu, 18 Sep 2014 05:32:43 +0000
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