Masala Chai with Lamas

Snow capped peaks. One hundred lakes. Snowfall. Mountain dogs running along side the car. Diesel engine humming. Dhabbas serving naan bread. Masala chai. Women with firewood stacked atop their heads. Small children with runny noses. Green pastures. Flowers of Fuschia, Cyan, and Saffron. Wild berries. Stinging nettles. Conifers & Oaks. Buddhist prayer flags on pikes. Rolling prayer wheels. Army outposts. 1962 war. War Memorial. The last frontier to China.

As our car snaked towards Twang in Arunachal Pradesh, I could finally catch a glimpse of our destination. A revered, 400 Year old Buddhist monastery perched atop a barren, rocky mountain face. A neat cluster of white block like sections rising up to different levels. Simply bunched up to make a single premise, with grey slate roofs and golden spires. In holy entirety. Hymns swarming the evening air. The fountain head. A center of great knowledge and learning.

I remember speaking to tiny, shy lamas, even though all we exchanged was a nod for a picture. But what I remember the most are the twinkling eyes, happy faces. Truly, Unchained spirits. Spirits that run free. Because walls can't contain them & laws can't restrain them!