Shangri-La of Sikkim

Pemayagtse

Prayer flags leading up to Pemayangtse that were installed to honour those who perished in the world tragedies such as 9/11, Holocaust and Cambodian genocide

Two miles of an enchanted evergreen forest – of those Himalanyan pines with long needles and trunks tall as the sky – and one reaches a curvy road lined with white and light blue prayer flags. It's they and the crickets that sing with the wind, making a frame for the perfect silence. That's exactly what the mind pictures as the ideal location for a monastery. So one enters the magestic Pemayagtse. “Pema” is another way of saying “Padmasambhava” [aka “Guru Rinpoche,” along with a few handfulls of other synonyms, together with the names for his 8 manifestations/incarnations – he is Sikkim's most beloved Boddhisattva, and is credited with bringing Buddhism to Tibet in the 7^th century A.D.].

Guru Rinpoche

Everything about this place is tranquil. The wood-carved monk dormitories, the little lawn behind the monastery where the ritual dances are performed and where little novice monks play, the otherworldly chants playing in the main hall over the idols of Padmasambhava and Buddha, the wind gently ruffling the plentiful prayer flags, the occasional “ding-ding” of the giant Mani wheel [about 3 meter tall!] bell..... 

the "Mani" house entrance - the prayer wheel there is positively gigantic

The crack behind the Buddha is a recent result of the quake

On the two floors above I found a sprawling library of the ancient Sanskrit chants, and was surprised to find many of the cabinets unlocked. I couldn't help holding a bundle – it was the first time I've seen them so intimately [if you are from the Pemayagtse and are reading this – please, forgive me for the potential tresspassing. I swear, I put it back where I found it ;O)]. Together, the thousands of ancient verses and the magnificent peeling frescoes created made the space feel primally sacred.

As I meditated in the main hall in the light of the many flickering butterlamps, I saw a tiny novice monk run up to the altar and fill his “skirt” piece of the robes with some apples from a giant bowl and run off with it as Guru Rinpoche stared wide-eyed at him from one side and some ferocious demons from the others. I don't think, the kid saw me – I must have looked severe enough to pass for one of the demons. When it was time to go, I stood before the butterlamps for a bow, and then couldn't help but touch the white yak butter from a lamp – I've never done that before and just couldn't resist it. As I smelled the stuff, rubbing the smidgen on my palm, I saw a small sign to the extent of “don't touch butter lamps – we know it's tempting.” Oh well, too late. The thing about yak butter is – its scent stays on the skin the whole day – and it's a yummy, warm scent. So, to attone for my transgression, I sent gratitude to Padmasambhava+Buddha for this little gift every time I sniffed my palms.

Many frescoes are quite explicit

As I walked down the hill, a little “Lotus” bakery beckoned. This charming project run by an uber-energetic elderly lama from the Pemayangtse employs “border youth” - some kids lost in different ways, many of them orphans, from the Sikkim-Darjeeling border [there is also a Buddhist school where these kids get an excellent education, as well as are taught business skills and, upon graduations, many even receive funds to start their own business]. Just then it started to rain – so I savoured a warm apple pie, soaking it in hot lemon tea and watched the long strings of water connecting the sky with the earth.

At the monastery entrance

Rabdentse Ruins

I ascended the hill where Rabdentse ruins of the ancient capital of Sikkim [17 Century] watch over the great ravvine and are watched by the protector spirit of the Great Kangchengzonga. Per my luck, I was the only soul at the top. So, I completely got lost in time listening to the sound of silence – the rain clouds approaching, the crickets signing in waves and the river gurgling softly a mile below as the ocean of the blue hills undulated before me. Without me noticing, it got dark. That was when I remembered that it was the one day that I left my headlamp at the hotel. So, there I went through the dark forest without a speck of light........that is, until the natural lighting has arrived – fireflies. I had no idea they'd be frolicking at this altitude and in this season! I had to turn on my cat-sight and waked mesmerized by the blinky mating ritual these green dots Morse-coded on my path. Honestly, I forgot to be scared. And, before long, I walked out onto the main road, where a friendly jeep driver gave me a lift back to Pelling.