When 200 monks walk across Himalayas for world peace, two stray dogs follow and the media ignores

Remember the iconic images of rock stars’ concerts for world peace at Central Park, NY! It created global media frenzy. Before Ladakh became a UT and hogged ‘mainstream’ media attention, about 200 monks from Thailand walked a distance of about 800 kms, from Dharamshala in HP, to Ladakh, for world peace. My editors didn’t find the story ‘sexy enough’ to grant 500 words.

The monks were blissfully cold to Indian media’s sex appeal, fighting daily ordeals.  Draped in the Buddhist monk’s robes, they braved extreme Himalayan cold (Thailand is a tropical country). Few of them without proper footwear; in Hawai chappals to be precise.  This was their fourth padyatra, that began with the blessings of HH Dalai Lama on May 25^th and culminated at Choglamsar, Leh, on June 26^ththis year.

They embarked on the journey trusting the sky over their heads (which began to snow at unpredictable times) and the earth under their feet. They did have a few co-travellers sharing their faith— 18 volunteers from Thailand, who paid for the privilege of accompanying them. Few of them still in their teens. A couple of them -- journalists and photographers.

I met Patreerat, a middle-aged volunteer, who managed the itinerary and all other sundry arrangements required for their month-long walk; their schedules, places for night stay, medical aid etc. She is suffering from cancer. Yet, she walked with the monks, refusing to follow them in accompanying cars and trolley. “I’ve faith; walking with the monks, i’m sure, cancer will leave my body.” I feel speechless while she recounts anecdotes that are more intriguing than her faith that she believes would cure her cancer.

Two stray dogs accompanied the monks since they left Dharamshala, through arduous climbs of snow covered mountains, untimely rains and storms. They became part of the walk for world peace. So did many others-- even though they didn’t quite walk the distance.

A police officer near Solan gave them his private phone number and said, they should click pictures of the trouble makers and call him when needed. Indeed they needed help. Few ruffians tried to extract money pointing a knife at one of their night halts near Manali. Unlike, as shown in Hindi movies, the police was quick to arrived. H P Police, offered to escort, which the monks politely declined.

Fifteen nuns and a dozen aged monks were among the group of 200. Before embarking on the padyarta, all monks practiced walking for two months in advance, starting with 5 kms to 20- 30 Kms everyday. “For May-June, the weather was very bad on the mountains, we had hail storms with life-threatening intensity and the high altitude left most of us breathless. The combination of it all caused serious sickness. There were times when a few monks felt their life slipping. But, Amchi doctors (practicing traditional Tibetan medicine) accompanying them under Dalai Lama’s instructions came to rescue.

They survived the unprecedented cold.

“I, along with few volunteers, used to go ahead of them to look for a proper resting place with toilets, running water and open area to pitch tents for the night. Hindu and Buddhist temples offered their space generously. Many temples offered food, but we were carrying raw material and monks prefer cooking on their own, “ adds Patreerat.

When they reached Leh, Mahabodhi International Meditation Centre (MIMC), in collaboration with Save the Himalayan Foundation, organised a grand reception for the monks, who arrived, tired and tanned, humbled with their mission. The language barrier disappeared when people touched them with empathy and generosity. No one would miss the opportunity to offer something in gratitude; a few candies or even tetra pack juice. Their begging bowls overflew with generosity of the Ladakhis.

The entire town of Leh came to a standstill.  Bhikkhu Sanghasena, founder MIMC, who has been supporting the padyatris since they first embarked on the mission to walk for world peace from Bodh Gaya to Leh, in 2016, led the delegation on foot over a stretch of 17 kms from CIBS ( Central Institute of Buddhist Studies) to the Shanti Stupa, in Shey.

The azure sky of Ladakh, the woolly clouds popping up their eyes and the winds howling songs of gratitude and appreciation filled many eyes with shy glitter of tears; tears of joy and the infectious compassion spread by the monks in a quiet, breathtakingly beautiful corner of the world.

I too was witnessing it with exhilaration and a strange feeling of inadequacy before this glorious act.

                                    

                                              

The YOLO moments of a cancer diary

 Placed among names like Manisha Koirala, Lisa Ray and Yuvraj Singh-- Ananya Mukherjee doesn’t ring a bell. Unlike them, she is not a cancer survivor. She succumbed to cancer. 

In 2016, Ananya was detected of breast cancer. ‘A hyper intelligent woman’, a media professional who loved every breath of life, lost her battle with cancer on Nov 18, 2018, and left behind a diary- “ Tales from the Tail End.” Her diary is a mirror to life-- not death.

She wouldn’t have liked to be called a ‘survivor’, even if she won the battle. Because the term ‘survivor’ had a hollow ring to it, according to her, “Like someone has cleaned out your insides but has left you with just enough to limp through life.” 

Deeply aware of the impending verdict, she gets hold of each living moment; squeezes life out of it in multiple dimensions, and let them fall and go!  

I read Tales from Tail End, published by Speaking Tiger, a thin- 100- page-beautifully illustrated diary , in one sitting.  As a matter of principle, I don’t read anything related to cancer or death. Having seen enough disease and death in family, I feel, such writings have nothing new to offer. I'm equally averse to inspirational tales. But, Tales from The Tail End, took me through the working of highly evolved mind, who looks at approaching end with amused humour with a tinge of helplessness that is disarming and endearing. Her humour is not a coping mechanism for pain and suffering; it’s a brave statement—of an incorrigible lover of life who wouldn’t give up on her love even if it meant side-stepping life to have a hearty laugh at its end-game.

 Kundera said, a good poem leaves you with a lump in the throat. Few chapters in this diary led me to a deep silence. Ananya puts a face to death and suffering and in the same breath she paints it with a brush of unfailing humour and joie de vivre. It is this unique quality that turns intimate and rather painful relationship of a cancer patient with things like pain, needles and wigs appear playful fun. “My wig. You are like me. Headstrong, fancy-free, unreliable and charitraheen,” she writes. Sidestepping painful chemo sessions, a reality to live with, she still says, “But heartbreak and bikini wax still top my list in the ‘most painful’ charts.”

 An undercurrent of unfailing irony runs through the 100 pages that often made me gasp. In times when reading has become unfashionable, this book has come as a welcome change. Thank you Imtiaz, for sending a copy!  I wish, i knew Ananya!  

( a chapter is named YOLO-you only live once-in Tales from the Tail End)

Tales  from the Tail End by Ananya Mukherjee. Speaking Tiger. Pages 101. Price Rs 399