Monasteries and military

If I had to sum up Ladakh in two words it would be monasteries and military. If you gave me a few more words I'd add rugged, majestic landscape. A few more? Altitude, high mountains, friendly people, prayer wheels, and contrasts. Now, you don't come to Ladakh to see the military, but you can't really avoid their presence. On the roads in convoys, bases set up all over, clever squad names like the clue finders or the mountain tamers, there is a clear military presence here. But then that shouldn't really be a surprise when you consider that the border with Pakistan and China are both quite close to this area of India. (I think we got within about fourth kilometers of the Pakistan border during our trip.) no, you come to Ladakh for the scenery. To explore an area of India that is so different from other parts. You come to visit monasteries that sit perched in mountain sides. Monasteries in remote places. Monasteries that are remarkably well kept when you wonder how they ever constructed them in the first place. Of the twelve monasteries we saw only one wasn't clinging to a hillside, that at Alchi, which was memorable for its two story clay sculptures of several different Buddhas. Sumur wasn't exactly built into a hillside like the others but its multiple layers provided its own unique view. I think my favorites where the monasteries in Hunder (you'll get more about that separately) and Diskit. Diskit (1420) is that iconic buddhist monastery, that clings to a mountainside in multilayer white stucco. Across the way is a large (ok, huge) statue of the future Buddha which in contrast to the stark landscape seems a miracle of construction. That's not the only enormous Buddha around, we saw a second golden monstrosity at Likkir (another cliff clinging monastery). He is seems to be nestled into a valley along rock walls, and was impressive in its wooden construction. Thiksay is another picturesque one, although as you wander through it it does not seem quite as old, perhaps because it is one of the wealthiest monasteries in Ladakh and so has upgraded and is very well maintained (although every monastery we visited seemed to be in great shape, even the ones that seemed more remote like Rizong). I'm not really sure what to say about all of the monasteries. They each had several temples, all different inside, with the commonality of some sort of large Buddha statue inside. I found myself enamored with the prayer wheels, which varied in material and number from site to site. Lamayuru can claim 143, Alchi 63 and Hunder just one. They are made out of tin, wood, leather, and old cans. Spinning them sends a prayer out, as the most traditional are filled with a solid paper roll of prayers. My memories of Ladakh will be filled with snapshots of monasteries, prayer wheels and smiling people.

Lamayuru festival

I climb out the window of our simple room and go to perch on the ledge overlooking the courtyard of the monastery in Lamayuru. We are in luck, completely by chance the monastery festival is going on while we are in Ladakh. The drums, cymbals and horns (a few so large it takes two young monks to carry them out) play a background of music throughout the day as 30 monks in colorful, shiny, patchwork over robes each wearing a mask of a protective deity dance. It is a simple dance around a circle, including spins, hops, arm raises and touching the ground in an unpredictable pattern. It is mesmerizing in color and the unchanging faces of the painted masks. As the horns lead the way back inside I find my attention captured again by the turns that flare the robes and the occasional mask which seems to be looking directly at me, two stories above the performance area. Truly a once in a lifetime experience.

Hunder Monastery

After a rest, with a few hours left until dinner we decided to take a walk through Hunder village. We set off on a route we hadn't wandered before. As we were turning a corner I happened to look up on the mountainside and spotted what looked to be a string of old monastic cells. Stone one room huts were actually scattered across the hillside. I wonder if that is Hunder monastery that the guidebook so briefly mentions? And how can we get there? We kept walking hoping that maybe the road would curve around and take us there. We've been continually drawn to some of the small concrete paths that veer off from the road and finally decided to follow one. We were excited when it took us by a small field of shrines, but even more thrilled when it led us over the stream and then up to where we wanted to go. Across the main road stood one of the prettiest prayer wheels we have seen. To the left stood a long stupa covered with intricately carved stones. Beyond that pebble stone paths led up to different areas of the mountainside, all of which held a handful of old monastic cells. We climbed one promising looking path for a ways, but due to impending night fall had to turn back before reaching anything of interest...unless you count more carved stones or the view of the field of over 50 white chorten across the river. We were still unclear as to if this was solely an abandoned monastery or still a working one as we began our walk back down to the little footpath. All of a sudden I noticed a monk coming out of a stone house. I guess it is still a monastery! We greeted him with a friendly "Juley" and then he came out of the gate holding a key. Did we want to visit ... something? Oh, yes. If a monk is willing to unlock a door I will follow him to see where it leads. Down some rocks and through a new door led us to a prayer hall that appeared to still be under construction. On the far side a fabric hanging hid a doubly locked door to a four hundred year old temple. Inside, the darkness barely pierced by a few candles, standing behind a glass wall was the most stunning Buddha I've seen this trip. His serious face and prayerful position dominated the space, keeping your attention. "Wow," was an echo inside my head. Look at what we stumbled upon...and we almost didn't go for a walk!

Road side advice

One of my favorite things about driving, well okay riding in a car, is to read the roadside signs and see what they share. As we drove out to visit some monasteries outside of Leh I had ample opportunity to take in some of these sage sayings.  There are three categories that these signs can fall into. There are the often amusing reminders to drive safe on the mountainous roads. Which proclaim things like the following:

All will wait, better be late

Caress the urges do not test them

Darling I like you, but not so fast

If you sleep your family will weep

Be Mr. Late then late Mr.

It's a highway not a runway

Bro anytime is safety time

I am curvaceous be careful

Overspeed is a knife that cuts a life

Your hurry is may be a cause to worry your family

And my favorite: Hurry burry spoils the curry

Then there are signs that actually tell me something I didn't know. We passed one today that proclaimed We did it! Guinness World Record. Most trees planted simultaneously. Chang-ga Village. Others just make me wonder what the are referring to, and make want to do some research. Like the one that said The Mountain Tamers. How do you tame a mountain?

The last genre are the signs that actually make you stop and think. That offer some surprising insight into life:

Hard work is the best investment a man can make

Self trust is the essence of heroism

Serve ever, hurt never

Only the best of our friends and the worst of our enemies would like to visit us

Roadside jobs...grooming

One of the things that I enjoy about India is realizing just how little it takes to be an entrepreneur. Really, these people could teach anyone interested in owning their own business a bit about how little you actually need to start up your own shop. For some all it takes is a bit of sidewalk space, a tall chair, a mirror to wire onto fence and a straight edge razor. Voila, you're ready to set up your own barber shop. You'd be surprised at how many of these little "shops" I pass on my drive to school. And yet there always seems to be a man settling in for a shave and/or a cut. 

Roadside barber in Delhi

Or perhaps you don't want to be that tied down? You'd rather be able to take your job on the go? Perhaps you should take a page from this man's book and becoming a roaming ear cleaner. Everything you need will fit into a lunch box sized carrier, well, with some cotton stuffed behind your ears. There is a lighter, q-tips, cleaner and scissors (some people have looooong ear hair) inside. No chair provided, but the side of the road often has rocks when people can sit down. What other types of grooming jobs do you think could be developed for the roadside? 

Ear cleaner in Rishikesh, photo from Shannon V.

Jain statues

While we were out searching for the zero, we drove by another amazing sight which gains very little attention anywhere. Cut into the hill side on either side of the single lane road that winds up to Gwalior fort are a slew of giant Jain statues. Our guide mentioned that these sculptures are similar to those that got bombed and ruined in Afghanistan. Time for me to do some more research...

Jain statues are recognizably different from statues of Buddha despite often being carved in the same form as they are typically nude. A few of these seemed to be sporting stone loincloths. These sculptures are thought to have been carved between 1441 and 1474. These statues which are up to 57 feet high represent the 24 Tirthankaras in the Jain faith. That is the role models for spiritual guidance, sort of their version of saints.

I'm not really sure that my research gave me much more information, it is surprisingly difficult to find definitive information about these statues. The only thing I am sure of is that they were a surprise well worth getting out of the car for!

In search of the world's oldest zero

We piled out of four cars, sixteen of us in white shirts painted with large zeroes on the front. We were on pilgrimage to see the world's oldest zero. That is the earliest known written record of a zero. Our guide asked us to wait in the shade of the gate of Gwalior's Fort, as he went in search of the one person who had the key that could unlock this wonder for our eyes. After a long enough wait to attract the attention of two groups of Indian tourists as well as all of the children trying to sell postcards and water he reappeared. Then led us down the slope of the cobblestone path which one would normally say led up to the fort. Except it was clear we weren't headed to the fort as its walls begin to loom over us, seemingly standing taller after every twist. As we approached the third turn he asked a few men to give up their seat on a small flight of crumbling stairs so that we might go up to a small temple nestled against the side of the wall. It is rather unassuming with nothing to mark it as such a historical spot; I suspect very few people who go to Gwalior fort ever make it here (in fact our guide said he had never been inside the temple before). The magical keys came out and the man from the fort struggled to open the rusted gate enough that we could slip inside. There, on the wall to the left of the altar, among the inscription about the gift of a garden some wealthy Indian made to the temple, up towards the top left corner are the numbers 270, most importantly the oldest known record of a written zero. Supposedly there is another zero in the inscription, a bit farther down next to something like a fish hook, but it is not as clearly identifiable, and being lower down can't claim to be the oldest. I have to admit, I made two trips into the temple (after all, only three people could fit in at a time), the first time I was so excited to see the zero I didn't think to try to take a picture with it, can't go passing up that opportunity! After all how often do you get a chance to do a bit of math tourism?