Visit to my Old Teacher.
But I must continue my journey. I crossed the iron bridge over the
Tista river, and found a good and wide road on the other side. This
time it was an ascent of seventeen miles as far as Ghoom, where I
expected to arrive on that day. I quickened the pace of the horse on
which I was riding, but owing to the recent rain the two horses which
were loaded with my baggage could not go so fast, and I was obliged
to stop at a village for the night, after only seven miles’ journey.
The next day, I arrived at Lhasa Villa, the country seat of Saraṭ
Chanḍra Ḍās of Darjeeling, my old teacher, through whom I first became
acquainted with the Tibetan language. When I knocked at his door, one
of his children opened it. He had forgotten me and was asking my name,
when Mrs. Chanḍra Ḍās made her appearance and asked me on what business
I came.
I replied with a smile, “Have you forgotten me? Can you not still
remember me?”
Then the Rai Bahāḍur, who had probably recognised my voice, rushed out
and said: “Is it you, Mr. Kawaguchi? You are welcome.”
My baggage was immediately unloaded and carried in by the servant, and
I was shown in. Great was his surprise and joy to see me again. He told
me that he had known of my whereabouts from my two letters to him, and
with what joy he had heard of my well-being as a doctor, but with what
apprehension he had considered my prospects of getting out of Tibet. He
also explained to me how Tsa Rong-ba came to him to hand him my letter,
but as he ran away without calling at his house again as he promised,
he could not give me his answer, adding that in his answer he had
intended to advise me to return quickly, because on seeing my letter
he had noticed there was no further need for me to study the Tibetan
language and religion. He also told me that Dr. Bunyiu Nanjio of Japan
had been very anxious about me and asked him in almost every letter
to tell all he heard of me; and he said he would write to the Doctor
directly. I talked of my experiences in Tibet and of the journey, and
it was midnight when we went to bed.
Next morning I had bad fever, and when the fever went down it was
followed by palsy; my limbs began to lose power and I felt as if
the palsy was going to the heart. By and by I was unable to move my
hands or feet at all, and I thought it must be a kind of heart attack
of beri-beri from which it is generally believed death is almost
inevitable. Rai Saraṭ was much concerned about me, and attended me all
the time of my sickness. Meanwhile a physician came in and examined
me. I learned afterwards that the physician pronounced my disease
to be a Tista fever, the most frightful kind of malaria. I thought
myself dying, and thought how lucky it was to die here at Darjeeling,
for then my death could be announced to all my friends, whereas if it
had occurred in Tibet, no one would have heard of it. But I thought
that before I died I must make a will to the effect that the books
I brought from Tibet must be sent to Japan, either to the Japanese
Imperial University or to any other great library within easy reach of
my fellow-countrymen. Therefore though in an almost insensible state I
told my teacher to write a will for me, and began to talk in English
but with great difficulty. Rai Saraṭ told me it was needless, for he
understood what I meant to say. The physician also told me to keep
quiet and spare both bodily and spiritual exertion as much as possible.
[Illustration: PERFORMING CEREMONIES IN TIBETAN COSTUME.]
That night I felt a little better, but the palsy of the limbs remained
just the same, and I entered into samāḍhi, trying thus to remove the
root of the malady. If any one had seen me in that state, he would have
thought that I was indeed beside myself. After three days’ suffering,
thanks to the careful attendance of Rai Saraṭ, I was a little better,
and my limbs began to have some feeling in them, and after that, though
slowly, I grew better and better, and on the eighth day I could move
my hand a little. I wished to telegraph home of my whereabouts, but
from Darjeeling to Japan the charge is thirty-seven rupees for three
words, and two rupees was all the money I had left in my pocket now.
Nor was I bold enough to borrow the money from my teacher, so after
all, I did not telegraph home. But wishing to notify my return, I did
my best to use my hand and wrote a letter addressed to Hige Tokujūro
in my native town, though I do not quite remember what I wrote in it.
I was gradually recovering, but for a whole month I was unable to do
anything, and became very thin and weak. While in Tibet I had grown
fat and healthy, and they had often told me that I was another man
after ten months’ stay in Lhasa, and I had felt so too; but now I was
again quite lean. Happily, however, by the grace of Buḍḍha I survived,
and before another month had passed I was able to read and write.
After that I had a great many visitors with whom I had every kind of
conversation, to relate which would take another volume, but as they
have no direct connexion with the journey to Tibet they need not be
narrated here.
I was obliged to stay at Darjeeling for some time, because after
having been accustomed to the cold climate of Tibet, I was afraid
in my enfeebled state to undertake a journey over the scorching
plains of India. My doctor also advised me to stay in Darjeeling for
three months at least, and I determined to do so. While I was thus
waiting for the recovery of my health, I heard nothing from Lhasa,
for in this season of the year the communication between Phari and
Darjeeling is almost entirely suspended from the fear of attacks of
fever on foreign travellers in the intermediate region. The natives
of Tomo-Rinchen-gang, who are accustomed to the climate, do not catch
it easily, but if Tibetans were to pass through the district in the
dangerous season they would surely be attacked by the malady. When I
left Tibet it was at the beginning of the season and the caravan which
I joined was the last but one. I knew the danger very well, but I had
no other choice; the affair which occurred in Lhasa drove me to come
across the dangerous path, and had caused my illness at Darjeeling. In
October the first caravan came from Tibet and brought me some shocking
news.