Three blessings

I spent 48 hours with a tibetan man and two tibetan monks. I met Yeshi, Gusung and Dakpa at a train station in Hyderabad and the four of us who’ve never met before, except the monks, would end up spending the next two days, together, as we traveled across- East to West – to Mumbai. During the course of this time, the role of these men will evolve to becoming more than just strangers.

These are my memories:
The Newspaper
At 6am in the freezing cold bus station, Yeshi, whom I met first when he had mistaken me as a tibetan, and I patiently waited for our bus. A couple of minutes before boarding, we met the two monks, Gusung and Dakpa. Yeshi was the only one of the three that spoke english but somehow, we managed to communicate.
Before boarding, Gusung had gone off and bought each of us chai, he was also holding an english newspaper. He hands the paper to Yeshi, speaks to him in tibetan and motions to me. Yeshi hands me the paper, “He said to pass time!” It was a sweet and heartwarming gesture that set the pace for the remainder of the trip. I was never allowed to pay for anything, except the one time I beat them to the punch and paid for all our lunches.

My baggage
We ran around aimlessly in 3 different cities as we tried to locate the correct buses that would eventually take us to Mumbai. From the moment we stepped onto the first bus in Hyderabad, these three men, no matter how much I insisted, never once, allowed me to carry the two bags I was traveling with, even as they struggled with their own.

In Mumbai

We finally reached Mumbai at 2:30 am and I was going to find a taxi to my hotel. The other three were going directly to the a temple for worship but the train that would take them was not running till 6 am. They told me to stay with them because they didn’t feel it would be safe for me to take a taxi at that time. I agreed. We spread out a blanket on the terminal floor and shared it. Yeshi slept on one side, I half sat half slept on the other and Gusung and Dakpa sat in the middle. Uttering their prayers. I felt safe and protected for the first time in a long time.

Communication
Despite the fact that Yeshi was the only one who spoke english, we managed to understand eachother through our gestures. We’d speak in our languages and attempt a hand gesture and most of the time the message was understood. Once in Mumbai, I took them up on the offer to accompany them to what I thought Yeshi called “Canampa Campf” At the train station in Mumbai, we lost Yeshi when Dakpa and I followed Gusung onto a train, he was actually trying to cross over the tracks by going into the train then jumping off on the other side, but  before we could jump off, the train took off. We all watched helplessly, as the train zoomed forward and Yeshi on the side of the tracks, waiting for the correct train, stood with his mouth agape. Once we got back to the station, Yeshi was no where to be found. Two hours later, the three of us despite not being able to thoroughly communicate with language, found ourselves in the very place we were heading to, nothing near “Canampa Campf” but in fact, “Kanheri Caves” and there we were greeted by Yeshi, who scolded Gusung.  

At the Caves
We explored the buddhist caves at the site. The two monks’ deep chanting beautifully reverbrated through the caves with near perfect acoustics and for some reason I had to stifle my tears from flowing. They took turns holding on to my arm to steady me down the cliffs, since once again I was wearing my slippers. They grazed their prayer beads across the holy and ancient walls, as they murmured in prayer and asked for blessings. They placed white sashes on the buddha statues in various caves to honour them. A couple of times, Gusung, motioned me to follow him as he grazed his hands around a bell shaped structure which he circumnavigated three times, then placed his head on it before walking out. I had performed this buddhist ritual with him a couple of times and it was humbling.

The train
Once again at a train station, we were told that our train would be leaving from the platform on the otherside. Yeshi motioned for us to follow him up the steps and over a bridge to the correct platform.Once again Gusung decided to go across the tracks, this time there was no train, or so we thought. We hopped down onto the tracks and walked across. The other two were much taller than me and had longer legs so they were able to step over a small ditch with one step. I on the other hand had to slowly step into the ditch then step out of the ditch. I heard Yeshi’s voice loudly yelling in my direction and I looked to my right, a train on our side of the track was zooming in, I looked forward and the other two were already on the platform. So I ran as fast as I can, the platform was too high and there was no way I can hop on to it. I heard the horn of the train blaring closer. As soon as I got to the platform, the two monks, my angelic  heroes, stretched out there arms simultaneously, I grabbed hold of each arm and they pulled in such a fluid movement that I was able to hop onto the platform. It was so perfect, I resist the urge to spread out my arms and say “TADA!” A few seconds later, the train zooms past. But a few minutes later, Yeshi, like the older brother, was once again yelling at the two, I stepped in and said, “Hey, they pulled in time!” As I motioned both arms pulling and smiling, this diffused his anger and the 4 of us smiled.

Saying Goodbye
Instead of staying on the train and continuing on to their train station a few stops after mine, they got off to say goodbye. The train was still moving and everyone was quickly jumping off and almost half running along side of it to avoid tripping. I’ve never done that before and was afraid I’d trip and be trampled by the mass.  I was between Dakpa and Gusung, as I started to doubt I can jump but, in one swoop, Dakpa pulled and Gusung pushed and the three of us managed to hop off in sync without stumbling.

The poor rickshaw driver was nodding furiously as the three of my brothers took turns giving him directions and instructions on what he must do as I am the passenger. They were trying to make sure that I would be okay for the remainder of the trip. I hugged each of them, said goodbye and hopped onto the rickshaw. The rickshaw moved forward parting me from those I had grown attached to - the ones who taught me about selflessness, devotion and heroism, and who reminded me about love-unconditional love. Stifling tears, I waved one last time to Yeshi, Gusung and Dakpa, who in the course of 48 hours evolved from being strangers, to family, to heroes,to brothers,.