on the surface of things

It seems to be a place too chilled, when the sun shines onto us and from time to time, we get that feeling of wanting to have a nap. The breezes come together with that thin layer of dust swirling in the air.

‘Oh, there is such a lot of world to see’…

Think Aladdin and Jasmine on the flying blanket.

But Leh is a small town, two main roads connecting to the mosque and settlements scattered around hillside. They have been there for years and years, and the newest are always those at the highest, the immigrants came and build them without government permission. Anyone bothered? No answer yet.

The interesting thing is seeing how everyone knows how to build, making their own bricks with dust and water, letting the intense sun to dry them. The usual colour is pale brown. What if the colour is not right? (Sometimes it turned out to be more like donkey shit) You smash it with the shuffle and reuse the dust. Simple. I guess that is why ladakhis like to keep a huge mountain of dust in front of their doorway, they say ‘it might come in handy in the future.’

The chances of them being useful are there. Yet the reality is, it is habitual to have all the trash lying around, in the drainage, on the rooftop. That’s why you always look up, you see everything in their most exquisite form but whenever you look down, you see your neighbours’ rooftops being filled with pet-bottles, logs of different sizes and the Tibetan Buddhism flags hanging randomly.

The minds, too rigid and opinionated; and things, too static to allow any remedies.

Difficult.

Andre said whatever Ladakh do wrong, Bhutan do it right.

But we don’t need another Bhutan, everybody knows, Bhutan is only opened to the rich now. Come to the thought, how could the entrance to nirvana (if there is any) be exclusive to certain population.

You know, after 11pm, you can see milky-way in Ladakh.

3600m above sea level, the sky has never been so near and at night, speechless. It is also probably the moment when the mind starts questioning, times of our lives. Then next morning, when you wake up and time has slipped away. Suddenly we get to tomorrow with the same routine. But is it still the same?

The Buddhists say, to be a good Buddhist, he must be prepared for change because nothing is permanent.

So it is more than heritage, architecture, maybe there is something to be learnt from here. ‘Ancient Future’, a Swedish anthropologist put it that way as her book title. Being content, responding to seasonal change as we live. The Muslims here only work in the summer, long hours no holidays, and in the winter, since it’s too cold, they do nothing. Simply nothing, and stay in sipping cups and cups of butter tea.

(Butter tea, ewww…)

Tough times actually, not the hours but how one has come to this part of the world. The feeling of being shadowed but when the eyes are opened to new dimensions, maybe it doesn’t matter afterall. What counts, are the encounters. Embrace change, sees how it goes.

Comforting enough, Haruki Murakami books are available here, and the guesthouse is installing a solar panel, so, hot shower soon! Very, very uplifting.