Zanskar – A Magical Kingdom in the clouds

Jumping down from the truck, David and I felt as if we'd arrived home. Home had been waiting for us patiently the entire time! This is the wild, soul tearing landscape that we had both been waiting for, yet neither of us had predicted the magnificence of its beauty. Zanskar may be known as the Hidden Kingdom, but for us, it was like discovering a magical kingdom in the clouds. A majestic, snow-capped range of voluptuous, psychedelic mountains could be seen at 360 degrees. I've never seen anything like it. It was an immense vista of flat, sand-coloured terrain that stretched out for miles and miles until – bang! Mountain! The panorama was an intense image filled with valleys that garbled at us, the warped language of the mountains.

So when they say the “hills are alive”, they're not joking. In this case, we could feel the life pulsating through the mountains, see the language they spoke as they changed shape every hour of the day: the pale orange glow of sunrise unveiling the mysticism of the night before; mid-day revealing their bold nudity as glittering white peaks nearly touched the sky; clouds, as they began to cast their shadows by early evening, forming voluptuous shapes across the range, obscuring the view and transforming them once again, into mystical creatures of the night. Beige, green, bright electric blue; yellow, orange, gold and dusky purple. These are the colours of Zanskar and they penetrated my soul.

Zanskar – The Hidden Kingdom
Zanskar is rugged and isolated. Gompas, stupas, monasteries and nunneries abound in the ancient Buddhist valley. The reverberations of its melancholy soul have continued to resonate into the 21st century; maybe due to the fact that for centuries, it had been bypassed by traders and merchants traveling the Silk Road. No one even knew it was there.

It's not easy to access Zanskar, which is why you don't see so many travelers. Yet the ones who do make it, are serious either about Buddhist philosophy, or trekking. I fall into neither of these categories, prefering instead to simply take things in my stride. Things will change though, especially once the new road is built between Padum and Leh. The “fast track” to Leh these days is by foot over eight to ten days from Padum to Lamayuru. Weather conditions have meant that work can only be carried out three months of the year, so to the delight of trekking fanatics, the building of the road has been a slow and gradual progress. Once built, it should bring the town economic prosperity, but at the same time, risk watering down the substance of its culture as more traffic begins to enter and new hotels spring up, transforming it into a commercial hub and yet another plot on the stoner-circuit map.

Tenzin the Magic Monk
Tenzin, with his smiling eyes, is the jolly gatekeeper of the local monastery in Padum. He welcomed David and I as we explored a ruined part of the town. He invited us for tea, and as we stood on the rooftop of the monastery building, listened to the Call to Prayer resonating from the nearby mosque. We were drinking tea in a Buddhist monastery, looking out across a beautiful landscape and hearing the crystal-clear sound of the Muezzin's voice from a mosque just metres away. We were both mesmerised into silence.

Tenzin wanted to show us something that many people do not get to see. First, however, he wanted to guide us to the Buddhist temple that was built into the monastery. It's a centuries-old building, with a frail yet sturdy wooden interior - a small space that the Muslims had converted into a kitchen during the invasion as the war took place between India and Pakistan. Many monasteries had been destroyed by the Pakistani army, however, this particular monastery had been preserved. There is still a predominantly strong Muslim population in Padum, however, Buddhism too continues to prevail and the two combined give the place a unique aura of spirituality. Tenzin had lit a number of butter divas in the temple, soaking the statues of Buddhas and ancient voodoo-like ceremonial masks, in a modest, golden spiritual light.

An ancient civilization
Leading us through challenging terrain, we followed Tenzin as he clambered easily over boulders and rocks until we reached the magical place he'd wanted to show us. Huge rock formations loomed high up above us engraved with images of ancient Buddhas – both male and female. The markings revealed the existence of civilizations that survived here, perhaps two, maybe three millennia ago. These people had lived here for centuries without any hassles from the outside world. The existence of Zanskar was not even acknowledged until recently, confirming why today, it is known as the “Hidden Kingdom”.

Lauren
Lauren, otherwise known in Ladakhi as Konehog Choskit, is someone I had met for the very first time in Delhi some months back. We were in Majnu Ka Tila, the Tibetan quarter of Delhi. For me, it's the best place to stay whenever I happen to be in the city as it beats the lunacy of Paharganj, the formidable backpacker district. I happened to be checking into a hotel just as Lauren, accompanied by two Buddhist nuns, was checking out. I heard her speak Ladakhi and immediately struck up a conversation. We had swapped details, however, in the whirlwind of my travels, had forgotten our exchange.

Lauren is American, 25, a Harvard graduate, fluent in Ladakhi and has lived with nuns in Zanskar for three years. Well versed in Buddhist philosophy, she is considering a number of options in life, including the possibility of becoming a nun, although she does admit to being privy to the odd tipple – something that respectable nuns do not indulge in!

The mountain air can go straight to your head sometimes and Lauren happened to catch David, Alan and I indulging in a silly moment as we held hands and skipped down Padum's so-called “high street” - a village street lined by a handful of shops. Alan already knew Lauren from the repair work he had carried out with her at the crumbling Karsha Monastery. As she stopped to speak to him, she recognised me almost immediately.

It took me a few moments to realise that it was the same girl I had met back in Delhi all those months ago. This time, I had the opportunity to have a proper chat with her. The woman's sense of humour never fails her and she handles our cheek, wit and interrogation of her choices in life (not unlike the Spanish Inquisition) with good-nature. She's as clued up as you can get on the depths of Buddhist philosophy and spends her spare time reading complicated Buddhist texts. Far from brainwashed, Lauren, as we discovered, recognises the substance of a number of controversial opinions surrounding religion, in particular, Buddhism. What a woman! She's heading for Nepal soon to complete a Ladakhi-English translation course. I'll be posting an interview with Lauren on Buddhist philosophy, detachment and the choices that she has made in her life to date. Watch this space.

Karsha Monastery
The rare aesthetic of a wonder-world...
We had trekked the seven kilometres from Padum to reach the Karsha Monastery. A white washed village clung to the bosom of the mountain, the Karsha Monastery winding up to its summit. Villagers carrying stacks of grass that they were collecting for the winter season passed us by, each one bent forward by the strain of the weight, yet every single one of them still with the heart to greet us with a wide, friendly smile. “Julley”, in Ladakhi, means “Hello”.

A huge prayer bell stood tall in its temple-like shelter and Buddhist flags woven between its four columns fluttered in the wind against the dramatic backdrop. The sky is a brilliant, bright blue with tufts of cloud forming shapes over the expansive range of the Zanskari Himalaya just ahead. There are green fields that are being harvested by locals and the contrast against the barrenness is incredible. It is evident that the people of this village work very hard to bring fertility to this land. Golden fields of wheat and lush green acres of land against brilliant-white snow-covered summits piercing the azure give this environment a rare aesthetic.

Monks strolled down the hill in their burgundy robes and pirate-shaped, yellow-trim hats. They belong to the Gelukspa sect of Buddhism, led by big boss himself, the Dalai Lama. We took on the ascent to the monastery, climbing a steep incline until we reached the prayer hall. A special puja was taking place in honour of the sand mandala and it was going on over seven days with monks praying continuously from 7am until 3pm. They had created by hand, a colourful sand mandala - an amazing, intricate work of art that was to be washed away into the Suru River at the end of the puja. The stunning creation is a symbol of detachment – mental and physical - hence its fate for destruction. I gathered that the philosophy was about freedom, attained by letting go. It was there to remind us of the cycle of birth, life, death and reincarnation. True enlightenment is gained when we are truly free and true freedom can only be achieved by detachment and unconditional love.