While the Buddha Watched...

While the Buddha watched…

By Maitry

Copyright 2013 Maitry Dutt

Smashwords Edition

1,2,3…15,16…16 of them, arranged in four rows; each occupied, emanating fierce blaze and smoke; smoke that enveloped us all around; smoke that blinded and choked us; smoke that we braved, standing under hot sun.

Have you ever seen 16 pyres burning at one go, Maya? What a chilling sight it is…16 metal stands on which logs are piled and on top of the paraphernalia is the body, reducing to ashes even as you watch.

The cremation ground seemed to be very well-known in that semi-rural landscape. People say those who are cremated here go straight to heaven…a sure-shot recipe for moksha. Amidst the arid plains stood a large shed giving shelter to the pyres below. There was a multitude milling around, some wailing openly, others with a stoic and resigned expression on their faces. We belonged to the latter…well educated and from a higher strata than most others around, we could not afford to lose our poise and make our grief public!

Crack! That was a skull cracking. Gruesome you say, Maya? Oh, it’s an experience to see a six feet man burn into ashes in front of your eyes, and you aiding the process by adding wood, ghee, coal… with the priest egging you on. Can’t blame the priests though. There is already a waiting list, with 5 more bodies awaiting their entry into heaven.

And those children Maya, those little devils! Can you imagine what scores of them are doing at a place like this? When one of the stands takes a break between two bodies, these brats pick up the unburnt coal pieces from top of the pyre as well as those scattered around the ground. With their bare hands, they are sifting through the ashes looking for coal, then wash them under running water, bag them and scoot, only to return for more in a little while. What say, Maya? Day in and out, these children are learning some very profound lessons in life. They must have long ceased to look at death with wonder or even with any respect. After all, it’s their only means to a frugal fare and tattered clothes.

And what about that coal… truly multi-purpose I say. From pyre to cooking-stove, some journey it traverses!

It took full three hours for the body to be burnt completely. I had expected it to be a quicker process. With a dupatta covering my face, I sat on the steps looking intently at the pyre. What for? Why had I insisted on witnessing the cremation? Making sure that he was gone and would never come again? And how the hell did it matter since I had killed his soul much earlier? I can almost hear you mockingly ask me that.

Being a bookworm that I was, the sight of the signboard warmed me up instantaneously on that cold day at Leh. You were busy haggling with the old, wizened man who was selling bead necklaces and I knew it would be futile to pull you away. Furiously whispering into your ears as to where I was headed for, I made a dash for the staircase and reached the bookshop on first floor. Much smaller that the stores I was used to, the books were more neatly arranged. More importantly, the world of printed words lorded over the digital world…there were fewer CDs and DVDs.

I went straight towards the section marked Buddhist Studies. Staying in this town since last 2 days and having visited few monasteries, my curiosity had been stoked. I was intrigued by the sway and hold Buddhism had on this region, its culture and its people. There was no way one could move even ten steps without coming across a religious symbol or sighting a lama. It was amazing to hear a senior lama we met yesterday talk about how this religion had transformed the erstwhile notorious tribal belt and its people into such peace-loving denizens. But my knowledge of Buddhism was next to nil, more so related to this part of the world. Of course, all of us had read stories about Siddhartha’s journey to Buddha and other related stuff that History books teach you.

I gingerly picked up a slim book and started leafing through its pages to gauge its readability. Suddenly a voice right next to me said Unless you are already a Buddhist scholar, you are picking up a wrong book. I turned around to face a man who was taller than average, with salt-n-pepper hair and dressed in a t-shirt and shorts as if he had been sweating it out in Mumbai’s humidity instead. You know me, I am so very tight-lipped while dealing with strangers. Before I could react, he had already handed over another book to me – I think you will find this much more interesting and lucid. He smiled and moved away to another section. And then you came bustling in, Maya, face flushed, and a victorious smile playing on the lips. I did it! Managed to buy three for the price of one! Your voice and excitement could not be contained. What charlatans these locals are! They think we are fools just because we are tourists! Mr. Salt-n-Pepper seemed to hesitate a bit, and then walked up to us. Lady, he addressed you in the most gentle of voices, these people spend hours bent over the beads and producing such beautiful pieces. And if you have managed to purchase three for the price of one, it does not prove they are cheats, it only shows how desperate their lives are. We looked at each other, then at other 3-4 shoppers who were staring at us intently, and made a quiet exit from the shop

Leh can be really cold even in May and the jackets we were carrying were just not sufficient to ward off the chill, though the shopkeeper at Delhi had given umpteen assurances to the contrary. Cursing him soundly, we rushed into our guesthouse where we seemed to be the sole occupants. Not that we really minded that. Both of us were on the run from the mundane and dreary chore our lives had become, and this peace and solitude was most welcome, even if it was temporary.

Warming your feet against the hot-water rubber bag, you remarked – Why do women, especially the mothers amongst us, get pangs of guilt when we are enjoying life without our children being around? Vibhu keeps taking 4-5 days break every 6 months and heads out with his friends, without any remorse on leaving Kashish behind. And here I am, oscillating between feelings of guilt and bliss!

No calls from in-laws since morning? Or they think you would be so busy in your seminar at Jaipur? I enquired playfully.

You guffawed –Oh none, thankfully. I am sure they are still sulking about me leaving Kashish with them and going away for this 4 days official work.

Then suddenly sobering up down, you added –You know, I am actually grateful to Vibhu for supporting me in sneaking out with you on this short trip, even if it is the first time since my marriage 6 years back. Should I feel so much gratitude towards him when he himself has been enjoying these breaks with his friends for so many years? …I think it’s the way we are conditioned to treat ourselves. Be thankful towards your father for letting you study as long as long as you want, towards your husband for allowing you to work…feel obliged for scraps of love and pity one throws your way….

I just wasn’t in a mood to get drawn into a morose conversation. But when was it ever possible to stop you when you were in your full tirade, Maya?

I don’t remember when your endless drone, pardon my choice of words, lulled me to sleep. But I woke up to a beautiful morning. At 5 am, the first rays of sun were warming the snow-crusted peaks. I opened the windows to let the fresh air in. A magpie flew into our room, looked confused, and then flew away. Did you realize, two days here and we had not spotted even a single crow? What a relief not to see the ubiquitous bird of Mumbai here…

We were to leave for Hunder village in Nubra valley. Like any quintessential tourist, we were doing the Leh-Pangong Lake-Khardungla-Nubra valley circuit, with a camera hanging around the necks to capture the fleeting moments and convert them into long-lasting memories.

It didn’t make economical sense to hire a vehicle for just the two of us. So our guesthouse manager managed to find two seats in a cab that