Chapter Thirteen: Deja Vu All Over Again; Afterward

   

The next morning we finished packing.  As I looked at the piles of stuff still in my large suitcase that we had left behind, I realized that I really didn’t need any of it.  I could live quite comfortably with what fit into part of Rob’s pack and my daypack.  

 This was my luggage for 24 days

The rigors of the trail had cut away the dross of my life; I could live on rice, lentils, and tea, if I had to.  There were days when I did.

   I wanted to purchase some of the beaded jewelry that was for sale at the Eco Village. One of the Adhikari brothers’ wives came out to show me all of it, and to explain that the proceeds would go to her Mother’s Group.  The women here have organized to raise money for a program for rural women that helps provide education and teach marketable craft skills to raise their quality of life. What a great combination – I could buy hand-crafted Nepali jewelry and help support a most worthy cause.  Malati helped me pick out some very nice pieces, as well as some Hindu prayer beads to take home.  Then things took a very cosmic turn.

   I wanted to have my picture taken with Malati.  She asked me to come with her to put on Nepali clothing for the photo.  We went to her room, where she laid out a number of saris for me to choose from.  They were all beautiful.  I chose a lovely brown and beige sari, with a design of dried grasses on it.  Malati showed me more saris, but I always came back to that one.

   She helped me put on the underskirt, then began wrapping the sari.  As she did, she held my face in her hands and said, “Beautiful.”  Then she put her hands on my stomach, and said, “Big belly!  Beautiful!”  This sari had been given to her by her mother who then passed away.  Malati hadn’t been able to bring herself to put it on because it made her too sad.

    We went out into the sunlit quad to have our photos taken.  I knew that she was a Reiki practitioner, as am I.  I mentioned this to her, and she embraced me, saying, “That’s it!  That’s why! I want to give you this sari, and this jewelry.”  We had many photos taken of us, doing different poses that she instructed.  Then the Adhikari elders came over.  It became clear that I reminded them of  Malati’s mother. We embraced, and she asked Rob to take care of her “American mother.” Rob promised he would.  

   I told Malati I would change out of the sari and give it back to her, along with the jewelry.  She insisted that I keep it – “You will wear it in front of me when you come back.” Indeed I will.  It was time to leave for Kathmandu.  I wore the sari.  As I descended the stone stairs to the Land Rover through an archway of vines, I turned and saw the grandmother waving goodbye to me.  I waved back, and left the Eco Village.

   I feel as though I have left a part of myself in Nepal.  Malati and I continue to communicate  via Facebook Messenger…We miss each other, and there is a strange tugging at my heart.  It is as if we have known each other all of our lives.  She saw her mother in me, and I saw a daughter in her.  We are both Reiki healers.  We had barely begun to get to know one another, but I know we will meet again.  I know we will.

Afterward:

As I review my notes and photographs for this narrative, I am once again struck with a depth of emotion that I have rarely known. Only in witnessing the births of my children and the deaths of family and friends have I reached such a sense of oneness with the universe, with God.  The physical achievement of trekking at the rooftop of the world, the personal suffering I did in climbing and descending while ill, all exist in the shadow of the enormous mountain of gratitude I feel for having met the beautiful people of Nepal. The sheer enormity and beauty of the mountains will live in my soul forever.  

As I return (grudgingly) to my daily life in New York, I feel blessed to have moments, often unbidden, in which tears spring to my eyes and I remember…snow-covered mountains, rushing waterfalls in rain forest, the sound of Hari’s Nepali flute playing as the sun sets behind a huge peak, the call of a cuckoo in the forest.

   Three years ago when Rob went to Nepal, there was no Internet in the Himalayas. Now, every village and guest house has access to the Internet.  I wonder how it will change the culture of these people.  Will the young ladies stop wearing the beautiful, flowing traditional clothing of their mothers and grandmothers?  I hope not.  Already we saw cell phones everywhere.  I personally benefitted from the availability of the Internet to launch my posts on Facebook while high above the clouds.  When Rob was there three years ago, we relied on a satellite communicator – the only way I could remain in touch with him as he and his buddies did their climbing.  There are losses and benefits to the availability of technology.  I do not begrudge them their progress, I only hope that these tools don’t soften the edges of their beautiful culture, their music, their dress, their joy in living.  We have much to learn from the Nepali people:  about living in community, about living in a way that incorporates nature without dominating or destroying it, about being present every day to the Divine, and about living with a peaceful heart and soul.

   I am forever grateful to our friends who led us through our adventures in India and Nepal.  As we were travelling, I was often quite homesick.  Now I am longing to return to these exquisite lands and their people.  Rob told me that this place is in his blood.  Now it is also in mine.

   Namaste, India and Nepal. Dhanyavad. Thankyou.  I am forever changed.

   

   "Roads go ever ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shown,

By streams that never find the sea;

Over snow by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on,

Under cloud and under star,

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green

And trees and hills they long have known."

-Bilbo Baggins, "The Hobbit"

(J.R.R. Tolkien)