Page 95 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

stretched down through them. Beside the last house was a resting place under a towering mangrove tree.
But my travel mates continued.
“Who cares when they don’t wait for me,” I said to myself. “I’ll walk at my pace.”
At the foot of the mountain, the route stretched along the graveled riverbank. After struggling for one
hour along the bank, I arrived at a water prayer-wheel. “No, I should drink water, but I’ll rest here.”
The heat soared at noon, burning my skin, yet it felt cool under the prayer wheel.
“You can’t rest, sir,” shouted the eldest brother from far above. “We haven’t covered a quarter of the
journey.”
I hobbled up after them. “Coming.”
But how long? They surged ahead again, farther this time. “I can’t. No matter what, I’ll travel at my
own pace,” I said in a huff.
On the hill, they were resting under a tree.
The youngest gawked at Sangla. “Where’d you meet him? I can’t believe I am traveling with this man.”
“He’s a teacher at Nganglam Junior High School,” said Sangla. “We play football together. He is—”
“He’s sluggish,” grunted the youngest.
“I thought you crossed the mountain,” I said, sitting on a rock beside them.
“Let’s move on,” said the eldest, furrowing his brow. “A long way to go.”
“You may continue,” I said. “I am gonna follow you.”
“You sure you don’t want to go with us?” said the youngest.
I cringed, massaging my calves. “I will come.”
“No,” said Sangla. “We began the journey together and we’re gonna complete it together.” He lent me
his hand. “Let’s resume, sir.”
As always, I lagged as we climbed down the next mountain. I trudged along the serpentine course of the
river. Pebbles scrunched beneath my feet and the river made a persistent gushing sound. Crunching hit my
ears from behind, quickening the already rampant pounding of my heart. Alien and scary. I often glanced
around to see if beasts were after me.
The path soon wound its way up the hill, disappearing and reappearing among the swaths of towering
trees. Way up, the smoke rose and roofs glimmered. “A village? Would that be Choekhorling?”
A clump of tattered prayer flags surrounded a small stupa that stood below the village. The smoothened
trunk of the tallest prayer flag was inscribed with the names of the dead, in Dzongkha. The flags fluttered
lugubriously in the warm afternoon breeze.
“May their soul rest in peace!” I muttered, squinting up at the flags.
People had gathered beside a temple and the drums and cymbals made loud rhythmic sounds.
“Good afternoon, sir,” greeted a boy.
“Good afternoon,” I said, puffing. “What’s going on here?”
“A ritual, sir. Where are you headed?”
“Samdrup Jongkhar.” I leaned on my staff. “How far is SJ from here?”
“It’s a long way. You must cross two more mountains and a big river. You’ll reach Dewathang. From
there, Samdrup Jongkhar is eighteen km down.”
“Gracious heavens,” I said, wiping the beads of sweat from my neck. “Is there a water tap around
here?”
“Over there behind the temple, sir. I am your student. Can’t you remember me?”
“Really? Sorry, short-term memory. What’s your name?”
“Jamyang.” He led me to the tap. “I was in Druk House.”
“Oh, really?” I scooped water from the wooden barrel and gulped it. “Bye.”
“Safe journey, sir.”
I slapped my chest to regain the coughing. “Thanks.”
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