On The Road To Revelation

The many moods of the mountains

Sitting there in a small room in a nunnery in a faraway, mystic valley, I wrote a letter every day, which never made its way to the post office. There was no post office in the closest reachable mile. I often wondered, if I ever mailed them will they be read? or will the words lose their meaning in the passage of time? 

The place felt like the last point on earth where the road reached its end. Beyond that tiny village were miles and miles of barren mountains; majestic, immovable, invincible yet ever-changing! Once in a while, random adventure seekers trekked across them, enduring all the adversities, of a rough terrain inhabited by snow leopards and grizzly bears,  for that ineffable, glorious feeling of having triumphed over the untamed.  Aware of my limitations, I contended myself by clicking pictures of the mountains from my window every morning. 

Some days, the mountains were cloaked behind layers of cottony clouds waiting to reveal well-kept secrets. Some days, the peaks glistened with fresh dust of snow while romancing the sun rays kissing them. There were days when the mountains looked dry, barren, and lifeless almost in mourning. Yet other days are like a surreal painting on a bright blue canvas. And then there was a day I saw the twin rainbows arched across the brown range much like the drawings I used to make as a child - a dream come true but ephemeral (by the time I ran to fetch my camera the clouds hid them back). The mountain kept changing, from misty, mysterious, dark, and intimidating to bright, alluring, and inviting.

Change they say is inevitable. And change they say should be welcomed with grace. Yet the change that brings with it apprehension, fear, insecurity, and the misery of ‘letting go’? Or maybe not! Change can be beautiful if we find the beauty in ‘discovering the new’.

That was perhaps a pseudo-optimist speaking. I hadn't accepted the change. Even in that beautiful land, among those warm, friendly people there were moments I was unhappy and unconsciously drowned in self-pity for a self-imposed internal conflict. 

Then one day, Sonam (pseudonym) asked me one of the most asked questions, “What does love feel like, didi?” It was a beautiful sunny day, I was watching the changing mountains from the monastery terrace. They were glittering like gold bathed in the first rays of the fresh autumn morning. I was about to click on my antique camera when Sonam arrived. She is a 14-year-old nun. Curious, bubbly, and playful like any other teenager, the only difference was she wore a red robe.

She was offered to serve God when she was born as most Buddhists in this part of the world do. I was told, it’s a tradition to offer the secondborn to god. The second son becomes a monk and the second daughter becomes a nun. The elder ones carry the lineage forward. Not sure if I agree with the tradition or not. Is it right to have your fate decided when you are just born? They say you get to choose when you are a teen, whether you want to continue but with that choice, they are also reminded all through their growing years that breaking a promise to god would be considered an unforgivable sin. The bad karma will make the next life hell. And maybe this fear does not allow the girls to give a thought to the other choices. Or maybe their faith eventually grows so strong that fear finds no place nor is there the need to question. It is difficult for me to arrive at any answers, but most do not renounce their oath to god with kept faith and complete willingness.

Sonam's question shocked me. Which love is she talking about? Do nuns think about love, the love between a man and a woman? or is she talking about humanity and love? “Sonam, what do you know about love?” I asked with a forced smile, my heart racing with the apprehension of what I might hear next. “Didi, I know all about boyfriends.” She answered with a proud I-also-know-stuff tone. Oh ok! I relaxed, I can handle that. “Are nuns allowed to have boyfriends?” I asked the obviously silly question while still trying to hide my initial shock. “No, didi, it’s a secret.” Answered Sonam with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Hmm! Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, almost easing up. “ No! I don’t but I like this monk from the …. gompa. He makes my heart flutter.” She let out her big bad secret in one innocent flurry. I didn't have to fake my smile anymore, “Haha! Sonam, so you already know what love feels like. Love makes the heart flutter.”

“Didi, if someone sins, what happens in the next life?” “ I don’t know Sonam. I don’t know what happens in the next life. Death is such a mystery and the next life an even greater mystery. There's so much to absorb in this life that I never thought about the next. All I can tell you now is to focus on your present life. Do what your heart wants to do. Provided you do not hurt or harm anything that breathes. As long as you respect all living things, be it another human or a plant, as long as you respect nature, and all that it offers, as long as you respect the faith your elders have taught you, I think your next life should be great fun. Don’t worry about that”

“Is it a sin if I don’t want to be a nun?”  “Hmm!” I knew this was coming and I knew I couldn’t answer that question. I was not allowed to.

I was sent there by a Buddhist organization to teach them English and Hindi, I should not, rather, make any kind of critical comments about their religion, faith, and beliefs. Had I been anywhere else, I would have said, “No, it’s not a sin. God wouldn’t mind. God wants you to be happy. If you are happy getting married, having kids, studying further, doing a job, or anything in the world that makes you happy, God wouldn’t mind.” But being where I was then, I felt it was inappropriate for me to feed her curiosity and raise questions about the faith she grew up with. Hers was an impressionable age and I shouldn't end up imposing my half knowledge.  Instead, I left her with a question, she may have pondered upon later, ”Are you happy with your life as it is now? Do what makes you happy. I am sure God wants you to be happy.”

I remembered something from a Hindi movie and told her, “Chinta Koni” Curious, she asked, “What does it mean?” I said in Rajasthani it meant “No worries” “Oh! And where is Rajasthan? Are there mountains like here? What do they eat…do they know our language...what do they wear? …..” The plethora of questions poured out one after the other. I started answering them in great detail. This was way easier.

And in the back of my mind, I thanked the maker for the many opportunities and choices I was given. 

(PS: By the end of the trip, I should have torn all the letters. Gracefully accepted the change and appreciated the freedom I was blessed with to choose my way of life. And that would have made the appropriate end to this piece. But I didn't. I saved one hoping it had reached its meant destination.)