Lama Chokden--A Tibetan guard--The sacred Kelas--Reverence of my
men for the Sacred Mountain--Trying hard to keep friends with the
gods--_Obos_--Water flowing to us.
WE altered our course from N. to N.E., rising to 16,600 feet, and leaving
the high tableland to the west. We arrived at Lama Chokden (or Chorten),
a pass protected by a Tibetan guard, who quickly turned out, matchlocks
in hand, as we approached. They seemed a miserable lot, and not only
offered no resistance, but actually begged for money and food. They
complained of ill-treatment by their superiors, stating that they
received no pay, and even food was only occasionally sent to them at this
outpost. Their tunics were in rags; each man carried a sword stuck in
front through the girdle. Here, too, we had more inquiries about the
young sahib, as messengers on horseback had been sent post-haste from
Taklakot to warn the Gyanema officer not to let him penetrate into
Hundes[15] by the Lumpiya Pass, should he attempt it. Their description
of my supposed appearance was very amusing, and when they said that if
the sahib came they would have to cut his head off, I felt so touched by
their good-natured confidence that I wanted to distribute a few rupees
among them.
"Do not give them anything, sir," said Kachi and the doctor. "These
fellows are hand and glove with the bands of dacoits; the latter will
soon be told that we have money, and we shall run great risk of being
attacked at night."
I insisted on giving them a present.
"No, sir," cried Kachi, distressed; "do not do it, or it will bring us no
end of trouble and misfortune. If you give them four annas, that will be
ample."
[Illustration: MY MEN SALAAMING KELAS AT LAMA CHOKDEN]
Accordingly the officer in command had this large sum deposited in the
outstretched palm of his hand, and to show his satisfaction, he pulled
out his tongue to its full length, waving both his hands at me for some
minutes, and bowing clumsily at the same time. His fur cap had been
previously removed and thrown on the ground. This was indeed a grand
salaam, a ceremonious acknowledgment of a gift of something less than
fourpence!
While the doctor remained in conversation with him, I happened to witness
a very beautiful sight. To the north the clouds had dispersed, and the
snow-capped sacred Kelas Mount stood majestic before us. In appearance
not unlike the graceful roof of a temple, Kelas towers over the long
white-capped range, contrasting in beautiful blending of tints with the
warm sienna colour of the lower elevations. Kelas is some two thousand
feet higher than the other peaks of the Gangir chain, with strongly
defined ledges and terraces marking its stratifications, and covered with
horizontal layers of snow standing out in brilliant colour against the
dark ice-worn rock. The Tibetans, the Nepalese, the Shokas, the Humlis,
Jumlis and Hindoos, all have a strong veneration for this mountain, which
is believed by them to be the abode of all the good gods, especially of
the god Siva. In fact, the ledge round its base is said by the Hindoos to
be the mark of the ropes used by the devil (Rakas) to pull down the
throne of Siva.
My men, with heads uncovered, their faces turned towards the sacred peak,
were muttering prayers. With joined hands, which they slowly raised as
high as the forehead, they prayed fervently, and then went down on their
knees, with heads bent low to the ground. My brigand follower, who was
standing close by me, hurriedly whispered that I should join in this act
of prayer.
"You must keep friends with the gods," said the bandit; "misfortune will
attend you if you do not salaam to Kelas; that is the home of a good
god!" and he pointed to the peak with the most devout air of conviction.
To please him I saluted the mountain with the utmost deference, and,
taking my cue from the others, placed a white stone on one of the
hundreds of _Chokdens_ or _Obos_ (stone pillars) erected by devotees at
this spot. These _Obos_, or rough pyramids of stones, are found on the
tracks traversing all high passes, near lakes, in fact, everywhere, but
rarely in such quantities as at Lama Chokden. The hill in front, and at
the back of the guard-house, was literally covered with these structures.
Each passer-by deposits a stone on one of them--a white stone if
possible--and this is supposed to bring him good fortune, or if he has a
wish he desires accomplished, such a contribution will enhance the
chances of its fulfilment.
The guard-house itself was of rough stone, mean and desolate, and in any
country but Tibet would not be considered fit accommodation for pigs.
After going a mile or so farther, as the sun was fast disappearing, we
searched for a suitable spot to pitch our tents. There was no sign of any
water, only the stony bed of a dried rivulet. We were discussing the
situation, when a faint sound as of rushing water struck our ears. It
grew louder and louder, and then we saw coming towards us a stream of
limpid molten snow, gradually advancing over the bed of stones. Evidently
the snow of the mountains had taken all day to melt, and the water was
only now reaching this spot. My dacoit was in a great state of
excitement.
"Water flowing to you, sahib!" he exclaimed, with his arms outstretched.
"You will have great luck! Look! Look! You want water for your camp, and
a stream comes to you! Heaven blesses you. You must dip your fingers into
the water as soon as it comes up to you, and throw some drops over your
shoulders. Then will fortune attend you on your journey."
I readily fell in with this Tibetan superstition, and we all dipped our
fingers, and sprinkled the water behind our backs. Wilson, however, who
took the matter quite seriously, said it was all nonsense, and would not
give in to such "childish fancy."
Good fortune would have meant much to me, but in the days to come this
simple rite proved to have been futile!
[15] Hundes = Tibet.