To the north, beyond the main range of the Himalayas, emerging from the Tibetan plateau, stands an isolated peak called Kailas. Although only 22,028 feet high, quite low by Himalayan standards, no climber has ever stood on its summit (except, apocryphally, a mystic in ancient times). It may never be climbed.
Kailas is a holy mountain to a number of religions, including Hinduism and Buddhism.
To Hindus, Kailas is identified as the earthly manifestation of the mystical mountain Meru. Living on the summit are Lord Shiva, and his consort Parvati.
To Tibetan Buddhists, atop Kailas is the ice palace of Demchog, a demonic deity wearing a crown of skulls -- perhaps a manifestation of Shiva -- who is usually represented with a blue-skinned body, four faces, and twelve arms, and shown embracing his consort Vajravarahi. Demchog and his consort are locked in an erotic embrace, representing the union of "nothingness" and "compassion."
To the remaining adherents of Bön, the pre-Buddhist belief system of Tibet, Kailas represented the seat of all spiritual power.
Colin Thubron is a travel writer in his early 70's. Over his lifetime, he has written a number of well-received books describing his travels in Asia and the Middle East, beginning with publication in 1967 of his book, Mirror to Damascus. In recent years, he's watched his family die off, one by one. The death of his mother, the last survivor of his family, prompted him to undertake a trek to Kailas, leading to publication this year of his book, To a Mountain in Tibet.
If Eric Newby's book, A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush (discussed a couple of posts ago) was a young man's light-hearted treatment of a taxing and dangerous climbing and trekking expedition, Thubron writes as a much older man, stricken by the deaths of relatives and facing his own mortality. The trek is not easy, but it follows well known trails; Western trekking companies routinely lead treks to the holy mountain. Thubron's trek is far less a perilous adventure into the unknown than was Newby's.
But Thubron's pilgrimage results is a far darker book.
Thubron begins trekking in the far western region of Nepal. He walks over passes through the Himalayas, crosses into Tibet, and arrives ultimately at the foot of Kailas. He then undertakes the kora, the traditional Buddhist and Hindu circumambulation of the mountain, an exercise that will wipe one's soul free of sin. For those with the tenacity to complete 108 circuits during their lifetime, the cycle of reincarnation comes immediately to an end, and the soul enters nirvana.
Few beliefs are older than the notion that heaven and earth were once conjoined, and that gods and men moved up and down a celestial ladder -- or a rope or vine -- and mingled at ease.
Kailas is such a ladder. The mountain was flown to this remote area, according to Buddhist belief, staked in place before devils could pull it underground, and nailed in place by the Buddha himself, preventing the gods from returning it to its origin.
Thubron speaks with many Nepalis and Tibetans on his trek. They are usually friendly. Their lives are very difficult, and often short. Many have suffered at the hands of the Chinese Maoists. Whatever dreams they may one day have dreamt as children rarely survived their teens. Only their religious beliefs give apparent meaning to the limited number of years and opportunities allotted them.
Thubron describes in detail, throughout his trek, the cosmic views held by Buddhists (and to a lesser degree, Hindus). He looks for that same meaning. He longs also to believe.
But he views the beliefs he lovingly describes as an outsider; he sees them as myths that -- however beautiful and suggestive -- were evolved by a primitive civilization. He marvels at the quiet self-confidence of monks with whom he meets; but he asks himself, are they incredibly wise, or simply credulous? Scholarly, or lazy? Are the desperately poor Nepali and Tibetans whom he meets making their way through just one more incarnation on the road to ultimate enlightenment? Or are they leading short, desperate, meaningless lives, ending in wretched deaths.
Thubron completes the 32-mile circuit of Kailas, crossing over its high point, Dröma pass, at 18,200 feet. He feels a sense of accomplishment, but he attains no spiritual revelation, no peace.
The writhing image of Demchog -- the union of "nothingness" and "compassion" -- leaves him neither at peace with his mother's death, nor at ease contemplating his own. A Buddhist monk, in the Tibetan tradition, explains to him that, in reality, there are no gods. Or rather, that the gods are merely guides, helping to lead him to that enlightenment that is man's highest destiny.
I tried to imagine this, but the wrong words swam into my mind: rejected life, self-hypnosis, the obliteration of loved difference. Premature death.
He tells a monk that his understanding of Buddhism is that, at death, everything is shed.
He smiled, as he tended to do at contradiction. "That is so. Only karma lasts. Merit and demerit."
"So nothing of the individual survives. Nothing that contains memory?"
"No." He sensed the strain in me, and with faint regret: "You know our Buddhist saying?"
Yes, I remember.
From all that he loves, man must part.
Thubron has undertaken a fascinating adventure. He has written yet another excellent book. I doubt, however, that he came down from his mountain having achieved the wisdom, the peace, or the hope that he may have sought on its heights. Demchog, in his amalgam of compassion and nothingness, may appear to Western eyes a cruel god.
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Photo: Demchok, enthroned upon Mt. Kailas
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