The War of the Realms

by C Steven Meldrum

  On completion of the sacred rites and circumambulation of monastery grounds, Abbott Tomas, and the group of chanting masters, monks and other supplicants that followed him, approached a large mandala that had been completed on a specially prepared unpaved area directly before the before the main entrance to the chapel. He completed the ritual by walking into the midst of the delicate mandala and incanted while holding the phurba in both hands, pointed downward and, bending his knees, softly pierced the centre of the mandala, pushing it in the bare earth in order to actualiseits “spirit-essence” and complete the ceremony.

  The hundreds gathered together joined in the chanting and all prostrated themselves before the short hilt of the phurba which looked very small indeed, protruding only six inches or so above the ground. I don’t know if anyone else saw it, but a shaft of mystic brilliance suddenly shone forth from it in a single blinding beam directly upwards towards the heavens. Looking beyond it to the slopes of the mighty snow-capped Qomolangma, I, if only for an instant, saw the face of the Maitreya looking down upon us, a look of peace, hope and salvation proclaimed by a vision as large as the night and superimposed upon the mountain. Abbot Tomas and many of the others deep in prayer looked to where I knelt, seeing the tears running unashamedly down my face. They looked in the same direction as me but whether it was a vision for my eyes only, or that it happened as quickly as it did, I am sure none of the others present saw what I saw.

  The celebrations continued apace, with sacrifices being presented on the altars of deities and special and delicious edibles delicately prepared to welcome the coming year. Religious debates raged and were topped off by dancers in various costumes performing all manner of ancient theatre. In one mighty performance, a boy, trained for years, dressed in the costume of a large stag and surrounded by twelve dancers in varying costumes wearing black hats and another sixteen masked dancers all representing various evil spirits, danced and whirled and played out an ancient tragedy. A mock-up of an oversized human skull called a torma was paraded around the grounds and an oracle, dressed in an elaborate costume threw an actual skull filled with a flammable liquid that burned the torma and removed the evil spirits from the celebration.

  The actual ordination and elevation ceremony occurred at dusk on the third day of Losar and seemed a blur. Dressed in plain white shifts, Dorje, Pemba, and eight other acolytes stood in a line, each faced by a proctor monk whojudged the recitations and tested each student’s knowledge of the scriptures as part of their dge tshul ordination. I myself stood at one end in a yellow shift and next to me stood two journeymen in red shifts that would become masters; Brother Norbu, who had always assisted the brother and sister archivists in the library and brother Thokmay who had been accepted into the training ranks of the Sera Ngari to assist Master Jai.

  Earlier that day I sat next to Puk in the audience chamber to witness Yeshe and Pasang completing genyen and entering the final year of life as prentice monks. I experienced a bitter-sweet moment then, seeing them don the light-grey robes of senior acolytes. I had abdicated my captaincy to Yeshe and she stood proudly in the red-bordered grey robes that I had worn so briefly. Our eyes locked for a moment and she gave me a playful wink. I smiled back. I was happy for them, but sad that I wasn’t with them on this journey; happy that I would graduate the same time as Dorje because I had always looked up to him, wanting in some way to be him, to have his skill, his chance at a career that only a few monks would ever have the chance of achieving, but equally sad that Rogel was not here to enjoy this moment also.

  If anyone deserved to be elevated with Dorje and to have the same opportunities as he did, it was Rogel, who had ever been his faithful lieutenant. But then, Lhapka should have been here also but would never again breathe the fresh mountain air or shiver in the chill breeze after swimming down at the river in summer. Everything is relative and it occurred to me, who should also be dead, that at least I was able to stand here and see my friends enter that last year before donning the sacred sanguine robes of our order.

  My own ordination took three hours. As well as being a proclamation of my status as a lama, (which I still vehemently denied), it also included intense public debating and exhaustive testing of my knowledge and opinion on scripture. In a courtyard surrounding with thousands of acolytes, journeymen and masters looking on, several masters challenged me in turn. I then endured more ceremony in recognition of the mantle of Panchen Erdeni. I was exhausted afterwards. It is all a blur now but at the time it seemed to go on forever and test limits I never knew I had. I was jubilant on hearing that I had passed my religious and academic studies.

  As a newly graduated qualified bhikkhu, the last and perhaps most grueling part my examination then came from the proctors of the House Guard who tested my knowledge on everything from combat forms to weaponry, both ancient and contemporary and I had to give reasons why I should be considered for admission.

  Once completed, the ten newly graduated journeymen, the two masters and myself stood at last before Abbott Tomas who presented each of us with the robes, sashes and beads that would mark our rank in the order. Dorje and Pemba received the long-awaited sanguine robes that marked them as journeymen bhikkhu. The two newly elevated masters already wore red robes but were handed coloured sashes that were respective of the sub-class, or guild they would belong to; yellow for the brother archivist and black for the Sera Ngari trainer. I received richly furnished saffron robes with delicately woven and embroidered gold and black symbols and glyphs all over and on the silk shirt. If I had hoped to remain anonymous, I failed. The yellow would be beacon amidst a sea of grey, red and black.

  With the post-ordination festivities at their highest, and after changing into my new robes and having to weather the individual congratulations of virtually every person in the entire monastery, I stood with Dorje, Pasang, Yeshe and Puk on the wall overlooking the main gate, watching the fireworks and listening to the music. We were all slightly drunk from copious amounts of changkol and in a more solemn moment toasted Lhapka and Rogel. The mood lightened again and we talked and joked together for what seemed the first time in months. I immediately felt less burdened than I had been. For that moment, at least, it seemed we were the same old band of brigands we had always been. But still my memories oppressed me and with a heavy heart I could not be completely happy.

  As the evening progressed and the group were all involved in individual conversations, I leaned on the parapet of the curtain wall where we stood, looking out into the inky blackness of night, trying to recapture the image of the Maitreya. The collar of my new shirt chaffed me and I rubbed at my neck, lost in my own thoughts of the vision I had witnessed. Pasang and Puk were involved in a debate of some kind, most probably an interpretation of scripture if I knew Pasang, and Dorje talked with Master Panuaru, most probably about the next step in his move towards being a black robe.

  Yeshe leaned on the wall next to me and offered me another cup of changkol. I had been too lost in my own thoughts to notice I had long since drained my first cup. In the crisp air of nightfall my breath showed in the bright lights that flooded the central courtyard where people organised themselves for the next part of the night’s activities; the highly important ghost exorcising festival. I looked at Yeshe and we turned to watch the throngs organising themselves for the much-anticipated night-time festival.

  Every house and room within the monastery had been meticulously cleaned and decorated, with the aim being that the cleaning would drive away evil spirits and bad luck. In the late evening on the third day of Losar, with bellies full of the festival treat Guthuk, the ceremony of exorcising ghosts began in earnest. Newly elevated brothers and masters would lead the throngs of party-goers through the streets and round the paths and byways of the monastery, waving torches, setting off fireworks and banging cymbals and drums to scare away demons and other evil spirits. It is supposed that chasing the devils until they reach a crossroad is enough to confuse them enough so they are unable to find their way b
ack to the dwelling they had once occupied. Then the New Year arrives.

  As groups organised themselves and the chanting, banging and clanging started, I congratulated Yeshe on her ascension to captain. She was happy that she had Puk and Pasang but to lose Dorje, Rogel and me she felt that she would have a much harder time keeping the apprentices in line.

  “Just tell them that once Dorje and I return from our lingkhor, we will visit bloody vengeanceon any of them that have stepped out of line.”

  She laughed and we continued talking about what the next year would hold for each of us.

  “I will continue my studies, Tashi. But once I have completed dge tshul, I don’t know. I would love to be able to follow that dream we all had of making our mark as a black-robe. But having seen what Dorje, Rogel and you have been able to do on the combat floor and after putting it into practice against those wolves, I just can’t see myself being either as motivated or as good as you three can be.”

  “But you are good, Yeshe. You are lightening quick, have a keen intellect and almost physic foresight in how you pick your opponents’ next moves and counter them. I have seen you in action many times. You didn’t survive the encounter on the river just by giving the wolves a cheeky wink with those sparkling green eyes and a nice smile. Don’t you think that provident?”

  She smiled and looked down, a little embarrassed. Then she looked at me, a serious expression on her face.“Yes, I am alive. And fit and well. Now I want my life to mean something, both in honour of Lhapka’s sacrifice and my own need to expunge the guilt that I have of that night.”

  She put her hand over her heart and I could see the conflict within her. She looked skywards.

  “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I looked up and saw that the clouds had parted long enough to show the vast atramentous cloak of the heavens above us, balanced with the limpid sparks of innumerate astral bodies.

  “I look up at the stars Tashi, and I am drawn to them. I want to travel, my friend. I want to stand on a planet out there and look back here and say, ‘See! I made it. I am on the other side of creation and I have seen things and experienced things that beggar belief.’”

  “I know what you mean, Yeshe. Had I drawn a different lot, I would join you.” Maybe I had grown up a little bit over the past few months. I saw this for what it was, a parting, and my heart was broken.

  “For what it’s worth, you are a good friend, Yeshe. You are everything that is best in people. Kind, giving, a fierce ally and a cunning warrior. I wish you the very best with your travels. Be safe and come back to us once you have had your fill of the universe.” We hugged each other with a warmth and familiarity that said that in a different future we might have ended up together, such was our love and respect for one another. She gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek and as we parted I saw a hint of tears for a future that she had also considered that would not come to pass. She sniffed and again gave me that enigmatic wink and smile and then punched me in the arm.

  “Ouch!” I said, rubbing my arm. “What was that for?”

  “Some lama you are,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You should be paying more attention.”

  She spun me around so I could see a commotion that was ensuing between Puk and Pasang. One moment they were arguing over a fine point of scripture and the next Puk had unceremoniously dumped Pasang on his backside and had stuffed half a plate of Guthuk down his tunic and walked off in a huff. I watched Puk disappear into the darkness and Yeshe laughed, congratulating Puk on a fine effort. Pasang gave us a look that said if he could catch us, we’d be in for the same treatment from him.

  “Don’t waste your effort Pasang,” I warned. “You’ll end up bound and caked in more dessert and tipped upside down into a barrel of chang and left as a nicely preserved treat for all the dispossessed demons.”

  He looked at Master Panuaru. “Don’t look at me,” he laughed. “Puk has exemplified your combat deficiencies, Pasang. See me after the next combat class and we shall start with extra training. Your academia will not save you from a stint volunteering with the Honour Guardif I can help it!” He laughed as Yeshe and I went to help him up.

  “Go and change,” said Master Panuaru. “It is tradition that those that have completed dge snyan and dge tshultake part in the festival.”

  “Come on,” Yeshe called to Puk and pulling me along, pushed Pasang toward the stairs. I could see that she was going to make a fine captain, fair and reasoned in her attitudes.“We’ll get you into a clean robe and then we can have some fun.” We left Master Panuaru and Dorje talking and ran back to the dormitory.

  Once Pasang had cleaned himself up and changed, his mood lightened and we headed back out to join the festival. By now it was in full swing and groups of noisy people moved up and down the streets amidst the peal of chanting and the arrhythmic banging of drums, the discordant trumpet blasts, clashing cymbals and crackle of fireworks.

  Joining a large group that noisily moved down byways and passed buildings we had known all our lives, I suddenly became aware of many small shapes running, hopping and flying ahead of the clangour. I was amazed and saw a group veer away from an intersection that, judging by the clamour that flowed from it, told me another group of revellers were headed toward us. I turned to see where my friends were but they were scattered throughout the larger mob, yelling and banging on drums they had acquired. They wouldn’t have heard me anyway, so out of curiosity I peeled off and followed a group of these scurrying shapes down an alleyway. There was not much light to speak of and I started to lose them as I ran on into the darkness between buildings. I came out of that alleyway, across a lighted street and then plunged into another darkened alleyway, seeing them scurrying ahead of me. In the light emanating from windows that looked onto the narrowing alley I overtook a few that were fluttering just above me, like huge butterflies. I jumped and grabbed one in each hand. A diminutive shriek escaped them and they squirmed, trying to get out of my grasp.

  I came out into the light to see what it was I had grasped. I was amazed to see I had in each hand a tiny creature than looked like a slender young woman with large wings on her back. I had seen their like in stories I had read as a child and there they had been called fairies or sprites.

  They were both clearly distressed and must have thought I meant to kill them. “I will not harm you,” I said. “Stop struggling and I will release you.”

  One spoke in a high-pitchedvoice, “How is it you can see us?”

  “What are you and what were those things I was chasing that didn’t fly but ran and hopped?”

  They looked at each other and the other spoke, “It is the noise and the chanting. We were scared and sought to escape. Those others are faery-kind also.”

  “I don’t how it is I can see you but I take it no one else can?”

  “No master, none but you in an eon have been able to divine us.”

  I thought for a moment. “Are you demons? Is that why you run from the drums and cymbals?”

  “No master!” Then; “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Tell me! Before I lose my patience! I have had my nose rubbed in too much of this lately– what are you?”

  The other one screamed in a panicked voice, “We are creatures of the worlds between the worlds, that is all!”

  The firstone piped, “You would not understand. We … we are not denied the planes as you are. We exist in the world of the Asuras as well as in this world and even the world of hungry ghosts. How can I say it? We exist between the planes and on them, for us there is little difference.”

  The other one spoke,“You mistake us for the night prowlers, the Rakshasas. They are the enemies you seek to remove from your dwellings with all the banging and drumming and chanting and noise, the tricksters and the false ones, that change their shape and fool you in their guises as monkeys and bears. See them now bouncing passed you and laughing all the while; the yellow and red ones, and over there the green baboon and the blue orang-utan.”

 
I sat down in the alleyway and for a moment forgot about the noise of the revellers.

  “It would be like you standing on the shore of a river and wading out into the water to emerge on the other side. They are two different worlds and the water is the aether in between that binds them, and bonds themultiverse.”

  I was amazed. I did not fully understand but had to think for a moment. I had called them fairies or sprites, but more correctly they were Apsaras, beautiful and heavenly dancers whose alluring song, music and dance captivates the gods. Their male counterparts where the powerful and magical warrior-bards and spirits of the forests and mountains called Gandharvas. The legends told that in battles with humans that might undeservedly try to take an Apsara to wife, those who could overcome their tremendous magic and best one are granted powerful gifts, but those that are not so lucky are carried away to whatever fate.

  “What are your names?”

  “We cannot tell you master for you would have …” She stopped short. “I would have what? If you don’t tell me I won’t release you.” They looked at each other and nodded. The one I held in my left hand

  said “I am So -khri and this is my sister Mekhri. Please don’t hurt us!” “I told you, I will not harm you. Now, why did you not want to tell me

  your names?”

  Mekhri spoke, “Because you now have the power to summon us. We are

  your servants and must do what you ask of us – if it is within our power.” I opened my hands and they immediately fluttered above my head,

  hovering out of reach beyond me.

  “Where will you go?”