Rebirth

I was heading to the dry mountain valleys of Ladakh, also known as “Little Tibet,” north of the Himalaya, in those days newly opened to foreign travelers. I reached Leh, the Ladakhi capital, in early June, after a two-day bus ride from Srinagar. A week later, I headed farther east along the Indus Valley to Hemis gompa (gompa means “monastery”), where the big annual mela, or “festival,” was about to start. Buses and trucks loaded with pilgrims made their way up the rocky road to the gompa. People found places to camp on the hillsides, by the streams, wherever they could find a piece of open ground. I set up my tent not far from the gompa, then went to look around. Small tea stalls, and stands selling momos (boiled meat-filled dumplings) and simple noodle stews called thugpa, were doing good business near the entrance, feeding the throng. Butter lamps (small bowls filled with melted butter, with a wick in the center) were lit inside the Tibetan-style temple, and the smoke from offerings of dried juniper perfumed the air. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to a medieval religious festival, both a holiday and a pilgrimage.