Excerpts from A pilgrimage to Kailas Manasarovar - An Odyssey in Tibet by Tarun Vijay MANAS PARIKRAMA(circumambulation) We left Chuggu Math at nine in the morning. This was the last leg of Manas Parikrama. It had drizzled the night before. Irritable arguments were breaking out between members of our group. It is a medical fact that such high altitude tends to make people impatient and short-tempered. However despite these skirmishes the dominant feeling of brotherhood pervaded the group throughout the pilgrimage, with everyone helping one another. It was getting cold with every step and the route was filled with icy puddles. We were walking along the shore of the holy lake. The eyes were more on the lake than on the route. The music of the waves, the play of the colours; the magic of Manas pervades the atmosphere. The water was so clear that sand and pebbles at the bottom of the lake were visible. I wished I could have spent a few days there. We lingered on the way collecting shells and conches lying on the bank. Once I saw some water birds in the distance. When I drew near to photograph them they flew away. Krishnan an ornithologist identified the birds as Rajhansa, the royal swan, found in the snowbound regions of Tibet. In English they are called the bar-headed geese or the Himalayan Green Finches. But these birds were quite different from the royal swans with their graceful necks and high flights that are depicted in Indian paintings. In any case strictly speaking, I could claim that I had seen the Rajhansa of Manas. The weeds growing in the water of Manas, washed upon the bank of years, make a sort of open but softened plain of grass. This mixture of sand and grass was ideal for mountain rats and there were thousands of rat-holes. We also saw a few rabbits. Seeing us they disappeared into their burrows. The horse trail was a little away from the shore on higher ground. Some of us walked along the shore. The others were on horseback at a distance. At one spot on the way we could see Kailas -- a thrilling view of the Abode of the Lord, enveloped in mystery. I tried hard to photograph Kailas reflected in Manas, but because of the extensive vegetation in the water, the reflection was not clear. BRAHMA MUHURTAM We reached Zaidi in the evening. The circumambulation was over. There was joy of accomplishment with a tinge of sadness. After eating, we proceeded to the bank for a final salutation. In the golden light of the evening we stood before the rippling waves, bowed down with reverence and prayed together to the Lord to make this scene of purity a permanent part of our lives. Night was approaching. We returned to our rooms with the resolve to get up at the Brahma Muhurtam, the auspicious time of dawn. In the morning Mrs. Duggal woke me up at 4 O'clock. Hurriedly I put on my sweater, jacket, muffler, monkey cap, two pairs of woollen socks, tied my shoelaces, took a torch, and the three of us -- the Duggals and I reached the bank. Peace reigned everywhere. The only sound was the deep swish of waves. The wind was sharp but silent. The cold wind enveloped me like a blanket -- I felt I was bathing in a rarefied form of the holy lake. We sat down on the bank and began to murmur the Mahamrityunjaya Mantra. In the hour before dawn, a unique diffused light in the east began to pierce the darkness. The moon was not visible but the Saptarshi, the Great Bear, shone brightly. I stood for long transfixed -- gazing at the holy Manas reflecting the mesmerising sky. The waves rose and fell, with pinpoints of light dancing upon them. It was a celestial dance of the gods offering libations of water to Lord of the Kailas. I experienced a oneness with Manas. I don't know when I fell silent or when a gust of wind broke the trance. I returned in a daze and went to bed. In the morning I could not speak of the experience to anyone. Words were an inadequate medium for describing my feelings. I had witnessed God's indulgence in creating beauty. To read more, place your order in the BUY section |