A Return to Ladakh: First Impressions

My first impression, from my first visit to Ladakh, still remains etched with vivid clarity. I remember landing within the pages of unreally beautiful, hardbound glossies of sharp clarity, unbelievable colors, and unimaginable scale - awed, dwarfed, a tiny meaningless speck of life crawling over vast pages of ungraspable reality. First shades of spring were appearing on an otherwise icy, barren landscape- first flowering tufts of early apricots, faint neon green highlights on grey twigs of trees, rich colors in coffee, plum, jade of boulders, hills, against seamless circle of white peaks around. I was ready to be reborn.

My second return caught me unawares - summer had set into the valley- crystal streams in turquoise gurgled, emerald ferns frothed from every nook, clumps of wild lavender swathed the land, rose bushes burst with a million blossoms in white, pink and gold, green barley fields were heavy with grains and swayed in silvery waves to a flirting, languorous breeze - warm sun melted my icy, hard core - I rejoiced in my rebirth, laughed with the entire creation, saw the world anew-for I was-eternal and integral to all around me.

My return to Ladakh this time was a seeking:

"Buddham Sharanam Gachami"

I seek shelter in Buddha - the cognisant Buddha within, for the quiet wisdom of the inner to be revealed. Not to revel in any rebirth, or playfully participate in any maya theatre, but for solace of an inner silent solitude, a retreat to 'just be'-no books, no music, no computer, no telephone, and no attachments - no lover, no friend, no children, no need to nurture, nourish, create, fulfill, no need to be anyone, anything, but me, just me, to watch, wonder, ponder, and if possible, shed even that, words, thoughts, action - just cognisance - an awareness without filter of culture, history, identity or dreams, desires, plans for future.

I discovered a Ladakh of antique gold, beaten silver, burnished copper under deep, clear cobalt skies - Indus and Zanskar now coursed in old green to fresh blue turquoise, through a land spent and now cloaked in gold, brown-gold, trees aflame in orange, yellow, red - torches towards heavens that poured gold dust down. Scarlett apples weighed down boughs, baskets of apricots, walnuts spilled down in marketplaces, wild jeera was being harvested from hills. Endless cups of gud-gud chai (salty yak butter tea) was now drunk at every home, tea shop, gompa - warm, nourishing, consoling- accumulating reserves for the lean, harsh season ahead. I wandered in restful quietness, walking miles within this miracle, finally realising that in birth and this awareness, 'I have been graced!'