CHAPTER XCVII.Once more in Katmandu.

After procuring my passport, escorted by the policeman, I came back to a village called Simla where I had left my carrier and carriage. I found that the carriage and its driver had absconded in my absence: it had been paid for in advance. The policeman wanted to beat my carrier for allowing the driver to abscond; but I interfered. It was then after three in the afternoon, and my route to Khātmāndu lay for eight miles at least through the jungle. I was warned about tigers; but I knew the route, as I was going over it for a second time, and forthwith I set out on the road.

Every two miles, through the eight miles of the jungle, is a large reservoir of drinking water, each reservoir being connected with the one next to it by means of iron ducts. Originally not a drop of water was obtainable in the jungle, and the ducts and reservoirs were built in compliance with the dying wish of the late Queen of Nepāl, who in that way wanted to benefit the travelling public. One reads the origin and history of this benevolent institution engraved on stone tablets, set up on the roadside; the language used on one being Nepālese, on another Tibetan, on the third English, then Hinḍū and Parsī.

Before night came on I arrived at Bichagori, where on the occasion of my former visit I heard a tiger break the midnight silence with his roars. I felt rather lonely on account of the absence of his roaring now, and I made anuta:

The same as once before the moonlight sleepsOn Bichagori fair; but whence is heardUpon the stream the savage tiger’s roar?

The same as once before the moonlight sleeps

On Bichagori fair; but whence is heard

Upon the stream the savage tiger’s roar?

Crossing the Bichagori river, I travelled to Spalta, from Spalta to Bahise, thence to Binbit and Tispanī during the next two days. Tispanī is also known by the alternative name of Tisgari, which, I think, was the one I mentioned before. Between Simla and Tispanī I had my passport examined three times. Tispanī maintains a custom-house and all ordinary ingoing travellers are detained here at least half a day. The case was different with me: my stop here lasted no longer than half an hour. My police-escort took leave of me here and his place was taken by a soldier, who thenceforth accompanied me to Kātmāndu.

As we reached the top of Tisgari, I once more stood an all-absorbed admirer, struck by the wondrous grandeur of the Himālayas, which, seen a second time, appeared to increase instead of diminish in their fresh majesty and charms.

To fitly paint the grandeur of the scenesWords fail me quite; what can I, helpless, do?These scenic beauties on the Himal’yan rangeE’en human eyesight fails to comprehend.

To fitly paint the grandeur of the scenes

Words fail me quite; what can I, helpless, do?

These scenic beauties on the Himal’yan range

E’en human eyesight fails to comprehend.

Thousands of years ago, Shākyamuni Buḍḍha, our Lord, spent six years in the jungles and mountains, and I imagined that I was possibly treading in His holy footsteps. I had spent the same number of years under the shadows of the Himālayas, but neither had I attained Nirvāṇa, nor become a Boḍhisaṭṭva!

Yuki yama-ni mutose heshi mino ikani-shiteAkatsuki-no Hoshi-ni awade sugoseshi?

Yuki yama-ni mutose heshi mino ikani-shite

Akatsuki-no Hoshi-ni awade sugoseshi?

Upon these plateaux six years have I passedBut yet Illumination’s Morning StarHave I not seen—the Star that flashed so brightAt that Illumination of our Lord,The Holy Saint under the Bodhi tree.[5]

Upon these plateaux six years have I passed

But yet Illumination’s Morning Star

Have I not seen—the Star that flashed so bright

At that Illumination of our Lord,

The Holy Saint under the Bodhi tree.[5]

We next made a sharp descent of about three miles past the village of Kurikane and an iron bridge, andentered Marku, where we lodged for the night. Starting at three o’clock on the 21st we calculated upon reaching Kātmāndu by the evening. The weird serenity of the great mountain pass under the starry heavens of the early morning; the bracing chill, the gradual revelation of the scenery around under the rising sun, the famous rhododendron flowers almost in bloom, the climb of Chandragiri, the vast plain at the height of six thousand feet above the sea level—all the sights and scenes, awe-inspiring, entrancing and interesting—were there as on the occasion of my former visit.

Arrived in Kātmāndu, I at once proceeded to the official residence of the Local Commander-in-Chief and Acting Prime Minister. His Excellency was too busy to see me that evening, and sent me word asking to come the next day. In the place of the one that had accompanied me to Kātmāndu two fresh bodyguards were then given to me. Such being the case, my arrival in the town had apparently become known to my old friend of four years ago Lama Buḍḍha Vajra; for, as I came out of the Commander-in-Chief’s residence, I was met by one of my friend’s sons and some servants with a horse. I at once rode to the Kāṣyapa Buḍḍha Tower and there renewed my friendship with its master, who, it will be superfluous to say, received me with a right royal welcome and placed me under fresh obligations by his great hospitality. I may add, however, that the Nepālese custom is almost the reverse of that of Tibet, in that all those who can afford to do so marry two, three, even five wives. My friend, though a Lama, but belonging to the Old School, has two wives and thirteen children.

MEETING AGAIN WITH AN OLD FRIEND LAMA BUDDHA VAJRA.

I considered it a rare privilege to pass a night in a place of such holiness, and availing myself of the opportunity I spent the best part of the night in lighting up the butter-lamp and holding a service in memory of my fatherand friends, who had died at home during my absence. The next morning I saw the sun rising from the snows and felt the emotions which are embodied in the followinguta.

In Japan was I born, my native landOf cherry flowers fair, the cheerful homeOf birds e’er singing their melodious songs.It is for this am I inspired to singOf that bright light reflected from the snows?

In Japan was I born, my native land

Of cherry flowers fair, the cheerful home

Of birds e’er singing their melodious songs.

It is for this am I inspired to sing

Of that bright light reflected from the snows?

That afternoon at one o’ clock, accompanied by my friend, I called on His Excellency Bheem Shamsher, the Commander-in-Chief of Nepāl. We were shown into the reception hall in the second floor of the building, in which I found fourteen or fifteen chairs of Western style, while theupper half of the floor was covered over with a rectangular piece of thick Nepālese carpet, with a layer of white cloth over it. On the walls of the room I noticed a number of pictures in occidental frames. Trifling as these details may appear, I mention them here, because the use side by side of native and western articles indicates the general features of the national policy of Nepāl.

THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF NEPAL, H. E. BHIM SHAMSIR.

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