“Pomdrakpa, the whole idea of karma rubs me the wrong way. The future is yet to be determined. Why is this poisonous idea all you think about?” Asked Abhiseleka.
Pomdrakpa rubbed his chin. “Why do you always insist that you be the cause? Can’t good things happen without your interference? You have always trusted yourself too much, and the Immutable Law of karma too little,” replied Pomdrakpa.
“That may be the case, Pomdrakpa, but I cannot let this go,” he said. “Matangi is the only mother I have ever known. Kimiya, you must turn this carriage around,” he said. They were descending the valley, moving further and further away from her.
“If it is possible to help her, Abhiseleka, we must take this next step. There is a debt owed to you that we must collect,” she said. She looked over at Pomdrakpa and nodded. Then he pulled his mala necklace out and began to twirl it. His mumbling was annoying at first. As he continued however, the sound of his mantra muttering started to resemble a tanpura somehow.
Abhiseleka looked straight at the rocky path ahead. They continued to descend into the valley. It was green and vast, stretching out toward the horizon. It made him think of things that end, like the lifespans of human beings. A friend died once, old Fariduddin the poet. Abhiseleka thought of him and his expiration. His voice was electric when he was alive, his brain quick as molten gold. Now he was gone, just like Matangi.
These people deserted him, and he ran out on them too. It was eating at him. His life was entrusted to two people he did not know. Neither Pomdrakpa nor Kimiya were coming across warm and fuzzy. On the contrary, they were hard taskmasters. Pomdrakpa was downright abusive.
The further they went, the longer he listened to Pomdrakpa’s tanpura mantra, the madder he became. Pomdrakpa keeps talking about Karma. What if he believes I owe him something? Kimiya as well, she claims I abandoned her. They were crazy, delivering him to his doom. He wanted to speak, but Pomdrakpa’s mantra was very meditative.
Abhiseleka felt as if his head and his mind were forcefully faced forwards. He imagined Matangi held him in her arms like a baby and a tear rolled down his cheek. She is gone. And it’s all my fault. He thought.
For a long time they continued down the mountainside. The deep resonant mantra echoed off of the rugged rock formations and preceded them on the path. Kimiya brought the reins down on the horses. She put her hand over Pomdrakpa’s heart and he stopped singing immediately. The echoes continued for a while, then it was a loud silence and the blowing wind. Some raptor flew high overhead and screeched. Kimiya cocked her head to the side and listened to the wind.
“You don’t hear that, do you?” She asked. She received blank stares in return. “All you men hear are your damn mantras; This is precisely why life eludes you. A man is pain, and neither one of you bodhisattvas hear him. Keep your mantra to yourself. I am listening,” she said. It was quiet, almost like it came from some place deep inside her own mind. But it was clear, the man said only one thing, “Kamapa,” over and over. He wanted release. He was obviously in some kind of prison. She drove towards the sound of his voice.
The road down forked to the right, but a smaller path took the carriage to the left, into a deep jungle. Pomdrakpa looked at Abhiseleka. Abhiseleka looked at Pomdrakpa. They remembered the cannibals at the Dakshinakali temple.
“I don’t care what either of you say. You’re not getting out of this, Karmapa,” she said. By now, the voice of the pained man was loud. Abhiseleka and Pomdrakpa heard it echoing the way the Tibetan song had been just minutes ago. It was, however, not soothing. It was a call to immediate action, action that had been long delayed. Just as sudden as it started, the voice stopped.
Kimiya stopped the horses. “Now, what do we do? The voice stopped,” she said. The other two were relieved, yet still anticipating the trick Kimiya had in store for them.
“Karmapa! I know you’re out there.” The man’s voice emanated from a small opening in the rock, framed in by tree roots. Kimiya pulled the horses to a large tree and tied the reins. She dismounted the carriage and looked at them.
“Let’s go,” she said, “he needs our help.” The men stayed until she gave them a burning look. Then they jumped all over themselves exiting the carriage. They stood in front of the hole. It was silent. “He’s asking for you,” she said, “I think you should go first as a consequence.” Abhiseleka looked at her with tears in his eyes.
“I don’t want to go in there,” he said. He buried his head in Kimiya’s chest and she patted him. One eye was exposed and it winked at Pomdrakpa.
“He winked at me,” he said.
“Pomdrakpa, you are the grown man here,” she said.
“The voice is asking for the Karmapa. That is clearly Abhiseleka. Why should I travel down that hole at all?” He asked.
“You are the Karmapa’s Guru, Lord and Lama,” she said. “While he’s still a child, you are his representative on Earth. Pomdrakpa, I need you to see what’s down there before we send Abhiseleka,” she said.
He asked no more questions, but sat down where he was and faced in the direction of the hole. He closed his eyes and listened. Kimiya and Abhiseleka just waited, sticking with her plan for Pomdrakpa to blaze the trail down into the earth.
He was still sitting, facing the tree with his eyes closed, and a smile crept over his face.
“There is a lama in there. He is extraordinarily old,” he said.
“Why is he asking for me?” Asked Abhiseleka. Pomdrakpa still had his eyes closed.
“He’s asking for no one; the man inside that cave is in the deepest samadhi possible. He is just on the brink of death,” he replied. He opened his eyes and shook himself awake. “There’s nothing to worry about down there. On the contrary, a miracle is occurring in this cave. This man is one of the undead. I don’t know where the rest of him dwells, but it is not inside the body,” he said.
Abhiseleka felt cold inside and out. He began to shiver. Kimiya held him close to her. She was so warm and nurturing, just for a moment. Then she pushed Abhiseleka away from her, and bent down so she was at his eye level.
“I saw what Pomdrakpa saw. There is no danger. It’s time, Abhiseleka,” she said. She looked at the hole, then to Abhiseleka, raising her eyebrow. The cold feeling was shattering his insides. He didn’t speak, and began walking over. Finally, the voice came clear for him.
“Karmapa, I thought you would never come,” he said. Guilt washed over him. A faded recollection that smelled dusty tickled his nose. It was thick with the grime of butter and smelly lama incense. He knelt down on the ground at the entrance and put his head through. There was a faint glow that brightened when he did. The light was pulsating, feeding off of Abhiseleka’s thoughts. It got brighter as his emotion rose, then dimmed as it fell. He played with that for a moment, then was interrupted by the extraordinarily loud voice of the man in pain.
“Karmapa, are you just going to stand there? Free me!” He said. It knocked Abhiseleka flat onto his back, and his flesh froze on his body with goosebumps. An apparition appeared. The man was in a red robe, holding a begging bowl in one hand and a mala in the other. He looked over at the glowing orb at the center of the cave and saw an emaciated bag of bones, seated in an upright posture, unmoving.
Abhiseleka was petrified. All color had disappeared from his face and his pulse was fast and shallow.
“You don’t remember, do you Karmapa? You can stop with the act; you are still accountable for what you did. We had an agreement,” he said.
“Yes, an agreement that I upheld. I owe you nothing. You are slime, and you’re in the right place,” said Abhiseleka. The ghost transfigured himself into a vicious demon. Blood dripped from his fangs and long yak horns sprouted from his head.
“Your imaginary friends don’t scare me, Sachen,” replied Abhiseleka. “You are harmless now, but you were not then,” he said. Abhiseleka felt powerful, all knowing, but he did not know how. It was as if some force had possessed his body. He approached Sachen and looked down at him with eyes narrowed to slits. He was not a demon or wrathful deity. This was a gentle man. Abhiseleka could not deny it.
“I am reformed, and anyway, I am dead. It’s time to let me go,” said Sachen. Abhiseleka looked up at the light spilling in from the entrance. He was torn. Part of him, the all knowing part, said to ignore his pleas. His humanity knew he could not.
“I don’t know what to do,” said Abhiseleka. Kimiya’s face appeared in the entrance, surrounded by light. She looked like an angel. Her face transfigured into Matangi’s.
“Just do the right thing and everyone wins, my son,” she said. Abhiseleka stared at her face. Her words echoed through the cave and his mind. Matangi wants this man freed; I’m overriding this demon inside me. He thought.
He turned to Sachen Lama and bowed his head and hands to him, in respect. Sachen approached Abhiseleka and extended his arm. He held a simple wooden mala, with a metal svastika on the end. Abhiseleka reached to take it from him. Sachen’s arm passed through Abhiseleka’s flesh but the mala did not. It began to heat up in his hand, and the svastika on the end emanated light of all the colors of the rainbow. The seated corpse in the center of the cave was steaming and the sphere of light surrounding him intensified. The entire cave was filled with light. Sachen Lama’s apparition fell onto his face in a full prostration towards Abhiseleka.
Abhiseleka prostrated himself as well. The crows of their heads touched. When they did, the light stopped. It was darkness in the cave, except the light that split the dust that now filled the air. In his right hand, Abhiseleka still held the wooden svastika mala necklace. The icon on the end was still glowing, and as Abhiseleka noticed it, the glow intensified. He held it out in front of him and walked over to the center of the cave, where the Sachen Lama’s body was imprisoned. The light revealed a pile of dust, a moth eaten faded red robe, fingernails, and a desiccated skeleton. There were a few long beads with strange circular designs on them. Abhiseleka picked through the dust and got them. He held the beads in the palm of his hand and the glowing mala in the other. He blew the dust off of them. They seemed to have a different sort of glow altogether.
He made his way to and through the entrance to the delicious fresh air above. It smelled sweet compared to the smell of the decayed lama, sweeter than it ever had.
Kimiya and Pomdrakpa were sitting in the carriage, passing the pipe between each other, loaded with the soma mixture. They were discussing the weather.
“The passes will already be snowy. We may need a sherpa to help us through,” said Kimiya. Pomdrakpa wrinkled his nose.
“Do you know how many times I have navigated through here?” He asked. He waved his hand, east to west, then west to east. “More than I can count,” he said.
“This is my concern,” she said, and pulled the pipe from his hand, “you have become pompous in your new role. I’ve seen how you’re training Abhiseleka. It’s not the way to go. You are punishing him for things he didn’t do. The Universe is kinder than that,” she said.
Pomdrakpa wrinkled his nose again. “The Universe is kind, but the Caliphate isn’t. Nor is the Khanate, or Sakya Pandita, who is worse than the rest,” he said. She shook her head, choosing to not reply instead. Abhiseleka was still watching. He arose and walked towards them. She turned and smiled. It was Kimiya’s face again, not Matangi’s. It struck a sad chord in his chest and stole a breath away. Kimiya’s smile melted. Pomdrakpa stared forwards. He did not want the Sachen Lama freed. Pomdrakpa agreed with the demon that tried to take control down there. He thought.
“That demon is the Karmapa, Karmapa,” said Kimiya. She laughed and slapped her knee. She kept laughing, and it escalated. She slapped Pomdrakpa’s back, who was leaning in the opposite direction, and he started laughing.
Abhiseleka was dejected. “Why are they laughing at me? I knew they weren’t my friends,” he said. He turned around and sat down under a tree, feeling very alone.
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