Exile at the foot of the Himalayas
□ Tsering Rob
The picture struck me greatly: a middle-aged man in a white terrestrial suit with a wooden shackle around his neck, messy hair and sluggish eyes riding on the back of an ox. The two hands stretched out in the wooden shackles clenched their fists tightly, and a few long whiskers were faintly visible on their chins. Next to him, a man dressed in a black black terry, carrying a cloth bag on his back, walked forward with an ox rope. There was nothing around them to use as a reference, as if they were marching in a deserted wilderness.
When the picture was taken, who was in it, what he was exiled for, and what happened to him later, these questions haunt my mind.
"Who is the person in this picture?" I asked the docent softly.
The little girl's face showed a shyness, and she spat out her tongue in her mouth, and she stopped speaking. I knew she didn't know who this man was, but I became very interested in the prisoner.
When we came out of the Shebalekh prison on the west side of the Potala Palace, we looked at the blue sky and breathed a long sigh of relief. The majestic Potala Palace stood behind me, as if it were a thick history book, so deep that it was difficult to breathe.
From that day on, I inquired about the stories of these exiled prisoners, looking for records about them in historical books, and after more than half a year, I gained very little. It is only known that the kashag local government will exile these political prisoners and felons to remote and isolated places such as Ali, Shannan, tagong and other remote places, and if they do not encounter amnesty, then they will spend their entire lives in that place, and it will be difficult for anyone to escape back to Lhasa alive. There are also some people who, with tenacity and courage, flee across mountains to India and then to the interior, but there are only a few such people.
As I began to forget the picture of the exiled prisoners, I suddenly received a call from Wangza, a classmate who worked at the Tibetan Academy of Social Sciences, asking me to go to a tavern in an alley near the Jokhang Temple and say that it was a surprise to me.
I quickly arrived in the area, and without much trouble, I found the humble barley tavern in a narrow alley. I saw an irregular little wooden board with the crooked Tibetan word "tavern" written in black paint.
The greasy curtain obscured everything inside, and not far away a man pouted his ass and peed in the corner of the wall, creeping like a snake along the base of the wall. Pedestrians and bicycles passed him disapprovingly. He lifted his pants, tightened his belt, pulled up the zipper, and walked over without a word. He had an aging face, dark and dull, his lips slumped, and a thin strand of gray hair on the door of his head. He was not tall, very thin. He reached out and pulled the curtain open first, a mixture of the sour smell of alcohol and the smell of cigarettes, and a few vulgar words could be heard.
The curtain fell again, separating me from the tavern inside.
Reluctantly, I reached out and lifted the corner of the curtain, my eyes searching inside, and finally I saw Wanza sitting next to the pillar. He turned his back on me, wearing the brown-red leather jacket, his curly hair meticulously combed, a cigarette in his right hand on the table, and pale white cigarettes floating on the cigarette butt. Sitting across from him was the old man who had just peed.
I stepped my right foot over the threshold, and the smell of wine and smoke and sweat perfumed my nostrils. A few people at the table looked up at me, and then they started talking. I sat next to Wanza, the wooden bench under my ass hard.
"Oh, this bad old man, this troublesome ghost's name is Dorjee Tsering, and he has a lot of stories in his belly." Wangza's face did not turn sideways, and his eyes looked directly at the old man and said.
Dorjee Tsering grinned, the three or four teeth still alive on his gums, occupying one gum alone, and he was excited about what Wangza had just said. Folds spread over his cheeks like a long-dry, cracked land.
"When I was younger, I slept with more women than the stars in the sky!" He reached over his thin, dry right hand and held the wine glass and said. Due to the loss of his front teeth, his voice was not very clear.
"The fleas and lice you've slept with are more accurate than the stars in the sky." Wanza immediately retorted to him.
"Stinky fart child, while your soul is still wandering, I'm already tumbling over a woman's belly." Dorjee Tsering fought back with a smile on his face.
"Did you let me come here for a drink?" I interrupted their conversation.
"Oh, I found this bad old man for you, he knows prisoners, exiles, and whipping." Wangza said somewhat triumphantly.
"Shut up! I had just moistened my tongue, my throat was still dry, and the flames in my stomach were burning vigorously. Dorjee Tsering's face collapsed and said.
I saw him dry a glass of beer and wipe his hand over his parched lips. I was looking for the owner in the tavern, and there were no people selling wine outside the table. The tavern was filled with smoke and exaggerated laughter flew around the low room.
I asked the owner of the Wanza tavern, and he nuzzled at a table behind him. I yelled, "Boss—"
A fat woman got up from her seat and walked over to our side.
"Twenty bottles of beer!" I didn't wait for her to get closer.
The tavern owner's right nose is stained with a little gray snuff powder, thick lips, and straight breasts, which are very dazzling. She went to a corner of the room to get her wine, her huge hips stuffing my eyes.
"You're such a nice guy!" Dorjee Tsering said to me across the five remaining bottles of beer on the table.
"Put out the fire in your stomach first, and let the smoke of the word come out of your tongue." Wanza pleaded with him.
Dorjee Tsering's eyes narrowed into a slit, the worm-like ravines on his face swam, and the lonely teeth were eerily exposed to my eyes.
"Good man, why do you inquire about those things?" Dorjee Tsering asked me incomprehensibly.
The lady boss put a case of Budweiser and a mug on the table and said, "You can't give this old man a drink, his roots will be indented." Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 200 yuan. Hahaha—" A giggle rolled over our heads and crashed into the opposite wall.
I took out two portraits of Chairman Mao and handed them over, and she gave me a very ambiguous look after receiving the money.
"This lady is still in the air!" Dorjee Tsering tried to reach out and touch it, but he didn't reach for it.
"Tell me about the exiled prisoners!" I can't wait.
"Hmm, what's so good about that, things between men and women are the most interesting." Since you drank the wine you bought, you might as well tell me about it. ”
We picked up our glasses together and touched them, and drank them all in one sip.
"Our family is for Sheba Liekong, and my father escorted Kashepa to Shannan." Dorjee Tsering said.
"It's the picture in the snow prison!" I couldn't help but scream.
"I haven't been to snow prison for more than thirty years, and the people in the picture may be the noble Kashba and my father."
Because he didn't have front teeth, he still couldn't speak clearly, and I could only propped up my ears and listen carefully to him.
"The Tibetan Revolutionary Party, do you know? It's the Gentun Qunpei gang. Hooga, Janlokin, Tuden Gongpei, Gentun Qunpei, you've heard of these people. He raised his glass to extinguish the flame in his stomach, put it down and continued: "The old man of the Monler family was also involved in this revolutionary party, and I heard that he did a lot of things for the revolutionary party in India. In order to finance the revolutionary party, he returned to Lhasa to prepare to sell his territory and estate. Unexpectedly, at this juncture, some of the revolutionaries in India were arrested and some fled to Shanghai. When Lord Mengle heard the news, he immediately terminated his actions. But the news reached the ears of the local government officials of the Kashag like the wind in India, and their faces became the color of pig's liver in shock, and they sat cross-legged on soft cushions, drinking thick butter tea, smoking vigorous snuff, and yawning, and decided to arrest Mr. Meng le quickly.
"The sky was so blue that I just wanted to lie still, and I sat on the stone steps in front of the gate of the Shebalekhon prison, closed my eyes and went to sleep. The sun became my quilt, the walls became my pillows, the stone steps became my bed, and my purring scared away the sparrows around me. Someone kicked me hard, and this kick woke me up from my sleep. I saw the old man with his hands cut behind his back, and he reprimanded him with extreme disgust, 'Look at you poor bastard, you can't tell the difference between day and night, like a beast, you only know how to sleep upside down.' I hurried up from the stone steps, stood aside and bent down, my tongue sticking out of my mouth. The kicked part was still faintly painful, and the sound of insults kept pouring into my ears. At this time, several people emerged from the corner of the wall, and they were holding a man wearing a black black hattant suit. Old Master Tomen stopped scolding, turned around and led the three followers up the stone steps and into the gate of The Snow Barre. The man escorted had relatively short hair, two whiskers on his lips, and his hands were chained, and he entered the gate at the urging of the escort.
"In the afternoon, I learned that the man who had been escorted was Lord Meng le, who had been imprisoned in the darkest cell, with his hands and feet caught in wooden shackles. Hey, a tall old man who is high up in the sky in a few moments, he was thrown into a dark prison. Dorjee Tsering said somewhat smugly. He grabbed the glass and drank a glass of wine clean.
Several other people at the table also gathered around, and they must have been particularly eager to hear the story behind them.
"Within a few days, Lord Tomen was standing in the middle of the courtyard in the snow barre, and a few servants escorted Lord Monler from his cell and tied his hands and feet to wooden stakes. Uncle Dawa, with a whip in his hand and a whistle in his mouth, walked leisurely behind him. Uncle Dawa lifted the hem of Mr. Mengle's black tucked-back suit, tucked it into his belt, and pulled off the dirty trousers, revealing a white round ass in the morning sun. Uncle Dawa triumphantly lifted the leather whip above his head and shook it a few times, and suddenly it split down obliquely, making a crisp and bright click. He looked up at The Door as if to please. They were already sitting on the steps, and on the small table in front of them was a porcelain tea bowl, and a wisp of hot air was fluttering. Lord Tomen brushed his smooth chin with his left hand, twisted the Buddha bead with his right hand, and the jade pendant on his ear reflected the light in the sunlight. Lord Tomen said in a tone, 'Give the criminal a hundred lashes.' The leather whip in Uncle Dawa's hand swirled in mid-air like a soft snake, and then slammed down on Lord Monraer's ass. I heard the terrible screams of Lord Monler and the counting of Uncle Dawa's excited singing. By the time he drew more than thirty lashes, Mr. Meng Le had already fainted. The white flower's ass and thighs were already fleshy, and the blood beads on the leather whip bloomed on the stone floor. Finally, the unconscious Elder Meng Le was carried into the cell by the messenger. Mr. Monler was imprisoned for more than a month, during which his family and relatives tried to open up the joints of the upper echelons and try to get him out of prison. Only because the events he was involved in were too large, no one wanted to wade through the muddy waters, and finally the Kashag local government decided to exile Lord Mengle to the Village of Tsubasa in Longzi, Shannan. A few stewards of Theravada, through a prayer lottery in front of the idol, finally drew the one with my name written on it from a dozen or so rice balls. This may be fate! I became the messenger who escorted Lord Mengle to Shannan, when I was exactly twenty-one years old.
"People today will never know that at that time, Mr. Mengle was imprisoned in a black prison, interrogated once every ten days and eight days, and each time he used a cowhide whip to spank his ass dozens of times, and the flesh of the scab cracked open again, and there was a cry that tore his heart and lungs. Lord Tomen sat down on the cushion, and then he lazily asked questions. After being tortured in this way, Mr. Meng Le finally bowed his head and confessed his guilt, and pressed his handprint on the guilty paper. Unable to wait to throw Mr. Mengle into his cell, Lord Tomen hurriedly folded up the confession paper and put it into his cuffs, and like a rat stealing food, he quickly ran down the wall to the stone steps of the Potala Palace, and he asked the local officials of the Kashag for credit. After Lord Monler was convicted, we had to carry him out of the snow barley every morning, and then out of the snow city gate and put him in a wooden cage for public display. Many people who have crossed the prayer will talk around the wooden cage, some elderly old women will shed tears while praying, and some kind people will take out cakes, milk residue, dried fruits and other gifts from their pockets to Give to Lord Mengle. It was only the nobles, seeing him imprisoned in a wooden cage, who took a long detour, fearing that if they got close, they would suffer annihilation. This old man Meng Le also really has a backbone, others do not eat a bite of the food they give, thirst is unbearable, they will not beg for a drop of water, squinting their eyes all day, and they do not talk to anyone. Before the sun set, we went to escort him back to Shebalekong. When we get to the wooden cage, we will kneel on the ground to pick up the food that has been given alms, and put it in our pockets, with a face full of harvest joy and satisfaction. After we crawled around the cage like a dog, Lord Monler opened his eyes. We got up from the ground, unlocked the wooden cage, and dragged him out of it. On the way back I saw that he had lice in his hair and fleas on his neckline. Thinking that this man really cannot be blessed, why should he become a revolutionary party and let himself fall into such a miserable situation. But when his hand touched the food in his pocket, he no longer thought of anything for him. ”
Dorjee Tsering paused and raised his cup again. Everyone in the tavern responded by lifting their glasses, and the wine poured down our throats into our stomachs. Someone at the table was silently handing out cigarettes, and the smoke floated above us like a ghost.
"Life was really hard at that time!" Dorjee Tsering said it and smacked his mouth, and then when he saw everyone's eyes on his face, he straightened his waist and continued the above story: "In the early summer morning, the wetland in front of the Potala Palace Snow City has returned to green, the thin ice above the puddle has melted, and the willow branches are full of new shoots, and on this day I was summoned to the room where Lord Tomen works. Grassy smoke swirled around the room, the sizzle of snuff came from the window, and through the cracks in the smoke I could faintly see the round face of Lord Tomen's cake-like face and meatball-like nose. Without waiting for me to come closer, Lord Tormon said, 'The Buddha has issued an edict that you will escort Karma Weisong (The name of Lord Mengle) to Nan Nai dong tomorrow, and when the handover is complete, you will hurry back.' I promised, and then withdrew. When I got home and told my father, he stared at my feet for a long time, and then he helplessly told me that the broken shoes on my feet could not go to Naidong at all, and asked me to open his suitcase and take out the pair of boots that he was reluctant to wear. He also told me where to go along the way and the precautions, even where to rest at noon, and who to spend the night at night. The next day, I carried my father's cloth bag containing rice dumplings, wooden bowls, tea leaves, salt, and a small piece of leg of lamb, and rushed to the gate of Shebalekong. My feet were dangling in those damn boots, and I was walking and chirping. Oh yes, we should have a drink! Dorjee Tsering said he was thirsty and urged us to finish the wine in our glasses.
"Fuck, how did this time pass in a flash." Pity, pity! Someone got up and walked toward the door.
"As long as the next time you buy wine, I'll tell you again." Dorjee Tsering shouted at the man's back.
"Bad old man, you keep telling stories." Wanza was slightly drunk, and both eyes began to flush.
"The sun leaps out from mount Taburih in the east, and the golden light is plated on the golden roof and walls of the Potala Palace. Two servants were cleaning the yard, and I went to Uncle Dawa and asked him for some wool and stuffed them into my boots, or my feet continued to dangle in my boots, making a constant sound. Uncle Dawa gave me a few pieces of milk residue and said that I could quench my thirst on the way. I borrowed the long waist knife from him and said that the road was used to guard against wild animals. Uncle Dawa spread his palms for me, and I didn't know what that meant. He said, 'This knife is a sword and needs to be kept in a mortgage.' 'Oh, what a sword, I have only fleas on me that can give you.' Uncle Dawa grabbed my ear and pushed me out of the door. Lord Tomen they began to dismount and pick up the stairs to go upstairs to the office. Rao Jie, who was wearing a yellow hat, saw me and asked me to bring the yellow-haired cow over. When I led the cattle from the bullpen to the center of the yard, several other servants also took Mr. Monler out of his cell. Mr. Meng Le was wearing a white prison coat and grass clippings stuck to his hair.
"In front of the east window on the second floor stood the doorkeeper, and the heads of several people were crowded to watch our every move, and the sunlight made their faces come alive like gold. Rao Jie took off his hat and bent down to look at the window, and the old man of the door threw off his right hand and ordered us to leave. Rao Jie stretched out his neck and shouted, 'Let the criminal ride on the back of an ox.' The servants carried Lord Monler on the back of the ox, and the cow was crushed to the ground and turned on the slate floor, and its body shook with it. The wound on Mr. Munler's ass made him scream. Rao Jie shouted again, 'Karma Weisong is officially exiled!' I looked up at the east window, and the doorkeeper, who had their backs to the window, could only see the back of the yellow satin. I led the cattle out of the gate of Shebalekong, and Rao Jie, Uncle Dawa, and a few servants stood at the door and watched me enter the alley.
"We were walking in the deep alley, and a few children playing on the side of the road picked up stones and threw them on Mr. Monler's body, making a popping sound, and several stray dogs barked at us. I don't want to stop them. We walked out of the Snow City Gate, and the smell of the wetlands came to our noses. The cattle slowly circled the Potala Palace, and the pedestrians stood in place and whispered when they saw us, and some people let out a long sigh. We turned onto the road to Barkhor Street, with unobstructed views ahead, and the glazed tiles on the vault of Yutuo Bridge in the southeast direction shone brightly. I couldn't stand the pain in my ass. For the first time, Lord Monler spoke to me. 'You haven't yet reached The Street of Barkhor to show the public, you have to bear with it.' I say so. Old Master Meng Le began to wail in a low voice, which was really annoying. I thought back to my daughter-in-law's satin body last night, and I couldn't help but whistle happily, suppressing his wailing. As the sun was about to jump overhead, we walked across the Yutuo Bridge, with the Jokhang Temple just ahead. I comforted Mr. Mengle and said, 'We will soon enter Barkhor Street, which is very close to your house, and maybe your family is waiting for you with tea and snacks on the side of the road!' Mr. Monler didn't bother me, but I assumed in my heart that his family would be waiting for us ahead, and brought us hearty food to enjoy all the way. To my surprise, the people of Barkhor Street surrounded the two of us as if we were from another planet, pointing and muttering. Someone else stood on the roof, hands in their sleeves, watching us walk by. A Nepalese businessman ran out, blocked my way, stuffed something in my pocket, walked over to Mr. Mungler and whispered a few words of comfort. I expected that the family of Mr. Meng le did not appear, but countless strangers followed us and accompanied us out of Barkhor Street. These people's faces were excited, and some of them even reached out and touched the shackles on The feet of Lord Meng le, making a twitching sound. As we marched to Lugu, there were fewer and fewer people trailing behind, and we walked on the uneven dirt and gravel road, and the bumps made Mr. Mengle clench his upper teeth and bite his lower lip. I can't blame it, this road is so bumpy on weekdays.
"We walked down the Lhasa River, which was as thin as a dried up urine trail, and the pebbles in the riverbed were roasted and curled up. There was no one around, and I said, 'Lord Monroe, either you are lying on the back of an ox.' Lord Monler said with tears, 'That's it, thank you!' For the first time in my life, I was called you by these noble masters, and I was naturally happy in my heart. With my help he crawled on the back of the cow, the white trunk under his ass stained dark red with blood. The Potala Palace moved slowly backwards on my right side, and we were almost at the ferry. At this time, two strong men ran over, and then several men and women rushed to this side. I snorted in my head and gritted my teeth at Uncle Dawa, who would have no power to fight back if they robbed people, and I only wore a short knife around my waist. Fortunately, they shouted the name of Lord Meng Le from a distance, looking very excited and sad. They carried Lord Monler off the ox's back and walked all the way to the ferry. There were two elaborate card pads on the stones, a pot of clay pots next to them, and four horses parked a little farther away. After Mr. Mengle was lying on the card mat, these people noticed me holding the scalper. 'Your Honor, we are from the house of Lord Mengle, and there are also the lady and the young master. You go over for a cup of tea and let us say goodbye to the old man. I nodded yes. They set me a little cushion a little farther away, poured strong tea, brought bread and rice cakes, and my eyes bulged out. Later, Mrs. Mungler came to me and asked the Nepalese businessman for something to give me. I wanted to say it was for me, but when I heard her say it was medicine for treating wounds, I didn't stick to my thoughts anymore and handed it over with some reluctance. We delayed for a few moments, during which I learned that their house in Ba Kho Street had been confiscated, two estates had been confiscated, and even ordered that his descendants should never enter the Kashag local government, and that the Mengle family was now left with only the manor of the Mozhu Gongka. Lord Monler said goodbye to them, and they gave us two cowhide-coated foods and a few pieces of Mr. Monler's change of clothes. We crossed the river in a cowhide boat to the other side. Only then did the people on the other side of the river mount their horses and walk in the direction of Lhasa.
"On that day, we stayed in a farmer's house in Ranmagang. I watched the sumptuous food given by the Menler family, took off the pants of The Monk, and smeared the medicine given by the Nepalese on his rotten ass. At night, we slept side by side under the eaves of the farmers, the stars in the sky around a moon. 'Lord Mengle, what did the Tibetan Revolutionary Party do?' I asked curiously. It was some people who were dissatisfied with the corruption and incompetence of the Kashag government, who opposed their authoritarian rule, who wanted to carry out revolution. Said Lord Mengle, who was sleeping on his stomach. 'Oh! In fact, I didn't understand anything, and then I said, 'This time you don't even have a house or a manor, and if you can't get amnesty, even your wife and children are not yours.' Lord Meng Le sobbed when he heard this. I think the revolution will come to your own house. I slept soundly that night. The next day I was woken up by the sound of chickens chirping. Mr. Meng le on the side slept like a Tibetan mastiff with its head buried in the crook of his arm. Let's have another drink! Dorjee Tsering advised the wine again. We catered to it right away.
"The cow walked very slowly, and it took us two days to get to Gonggazong (county). At dusk we arrived at the zongfu, zongben (the county magistrate) had his hair shiny, he was a tall man with a loud voice, and after reading the Kashag documents, he asked one servant to arrange for me to live in an ear room, and several other servants carried Lord Mengle to the upstairs room. I think it may be too late, the hundred whips that arrived will fall on Lord Mengle's ass tomorrow morning. While I was confused, someone knocked on the door and said that It was the key to the shackles that Zongben was going to open. I asked, 'Now you want to smoke that hundred lashes?' The man said, 'Very likely.' I took the two strings of keys from my neck and handed them over. I said, 'Can you please intercede, play a little lighter?' Maggots were on his ass. The man nodded, squeaked and led the door away. I lay down on the soft meadow, my eyes wide open and my ears pricked up, waiting to hear his wailing. It was quiet outside, with the occasional dog barking and the snouting of horses in stables. My eyelids fell off in disobedience.
"The sun came in through the small window of the wooden lattice and woke me up in my face. I was in a hurry, and I had to hurry up. I went out and saw in the yard that there was a backwater coming back, crouching in the corner twisting the line, wielding an axe to chop wood. A man in the form of a butler came out of the door of the clan mansion and told me, 'The prisoner passed out after being whipped a hundred times last night, and Zong Ben will wait for him to wake up before you leave.' My heart tightened, thinking that I must not let him die, this is too wrong for him. The housekeeper also told me that tea and wine would be delivered to my house for a day of rest. Indeed, as he said, after a while a woman brought me a pot of tea and rice dumplings, and I also bored myself by saying some witty things to this woman, which made her giggle and not disgusted me. When she left, my heart was quiet, and I had some hope. After eating and drinking, I took the dried meat and fermented rice cake from the cowhide jacket and put it in my pocket, and went to the kitchen with the teapot and the rice bag in my hand. I saw her again, a tall, pale-faced middle-aged woman with eyes so wide that I couldn't help myself. I lay in the kitchen chatting with her one by one, shoving dried meat and fermented rice cakes into her hands while the others were around, and then snatching the door and fleeing. I didn't have time to take care of Mr. Monler now, I just went to see the yellow cow. I spent a lot of time wandering around gonggazong. In the afternoon she brought me another pot of barley wine, and I asked her to drink it in my wooden bowl, which she gladly accepted and drank. Three treasures, this is a special thing! I finished drinking a pot and went to ask for another one. I fell drunk on that meadow before the sun set. Late at night, someone broke into my house and took me into a warm embrace, and I smelled cow dung and ghee in my hair, and I knew it was the most wonderful moment. When I woke up again, the sun was shining on my face again, and there was no one around, so I lazily turned my head and prayed that Mr. Meng le would not wake up today! However, someone urged me from outside the door, asking me to hurry up and leave after eating. The loss in my heart cannot be expressed in words. Lying on the back of the cow were Mr. Meng Le and the two rags, and the blood on the white prisoner's clothes was gone, and I had to take the cow rope and set off again. Before leaving, I looked around and didn't see her, and Munakata and the butler stood on the stone steps to watch us. I turned around coldly and came out of Gonggazong. ”
"This stick is just not serious. Come and give a toast to the old man's youth! Wanza proposed.
A heartfelt smile vibrated in the tavern, the smell of alcohol wafted in the air, and the aroma of malt fell from the throat.
"I learned later that Gongga Zong was related to Old Master Mengle, so he did not draw the hundred whips that arrived and the one hundred whips when he left. This way, I will have a lot of peace of mind along the way. Listen to my father, many felons are subjected to a hundred lashes after arrival every time they reach a sect (county) on the way to exile, a hundred lashes when they leave, and then another lashing out to the next, until they reach the place of exile to receive the last hundred lashes. Some people have not survived such torture, and some have been crawling and working in exile for more than half a year, and finally survived, while others have been disabled for life. On our way to Zanangzong, we once sat on the banks of the Brahmaputra River at noon, boiling tea and eating lunch, and Lord Mengle nestled by the fire like a dog, asking me to take off his pants and expose his ass to the sun. I did so, and when I saw the scabs on the wound, I remembered Uncle Dawa whipping his whip. 'Lord Monler, if I had your possessions and status, I would never join any revolutionary party. I said. That's my belief, and I can't tolerate the autocracy of theocracy. Lord Mengle said. That's what you have the right to play with the rich, and it has nothing to do with us poor people. I said again. 'It is in vain to tell you that you have only suffered lives.' Lord Monler said dismissively. 'Lord, although we are half hungry and half full, we will not go to the house like you. My words seemed to poke at his sore spot, and he didn't squeak again for half a second. His hair had been washed, and there were no fleas found at the neckline. I took off the top half of my hideout and looked for fleas and lice in it, naked. The burning thorns crackled and stretched out tongues of fire under the aluminum pot. 'Help me apply a medicine to my ass wound.' Lord Mengle said. I squeezed one of the bulging fleas I had just caught with two thumb nails, and then I got up and went to the fold to get the medicine. This medicine is running out. I said I was so happy that I wouldn't have to put medicine on this ass without it. 'Let's paint the rest.' I'll paint it all according to his words. If I had stayed in India, I might have fled to the interior and would not have been subjected to such torture. Lord Mengle said. Are you the only one arrested in your revolutionary party? I asked. 'I am the only one arrested on charges of the Tibetan Revolutionary Party.' He said reluctantly. My hand was probably too heavy, and Lord Munler suddenly roared, 'Lighten up, you nasty poor ghost.' My hands shrank back in fear, and I fell to my knees on the ground. After a moment of silence, I thought that I was a servant, that he was a criminal, and that I could not get used to him like this. I threw away the box containing the medicine, got up and sat down at the teapot, and continued to add thorns to the fire. After a while, the tea boiled and the aroma came to the nose. I drank tea and ate the rice and lamb. Mr. Munler playfully put on his pants and crawled to get food from the cowhide jacket to eat. I saw that his previous pity for this look was gone.
"When I arrived at the Za Nang Sect, it was also because of the operation of the Old Master Mengle family, but symbolically smoked a few whips on his prison uniform, and then did something hastily. We replenished some grain and continued on our way to Naedung Dzong. I've lost my liking for these people, and these little gestures they've made make me, a wordless person, sick. I rode him on the back of a cow and stopped talking to him along the way. When it's time for dinner, simply have a meal, and I will sleep far away from him at night. On the night of The Day when Nai Dong Jong arrived, I left him and ran to the tavern to drink. The lady of the tavern was a trademark beauty, and we drank the wine made of purple barley, said flirtatious words, and drank one can after another. The woman used her singing voice to adjust the atmosphere, I exchanged the few Tibetan coins on my body for wine, and in the end I could not find the farmhouse, and fell asleep on the side of the road. It was the cry of a sparrow that woke me up, and I sat up dazedly to see a boot on my foot thrown aside. Only then did he come back to his senses, quickly put on his boots, and go to find the house where he had stayed. The family had boiled up the tea and were waiting for my arrival. After drinking a few cups of tea, I carried Mr. Mengle on the back of the cow, and then put on the folds that had begun to dry up. We walked through the alley full of cow and sheep dung and walked to the slightly smoother official road. When I thought about Nai dong zong, my mission was over, and I could lead this yellow cow to Gongga Zong, where I could stay for a few more days. We marched east along the crystal clear Brahmaputra River, past several manor houses and many villages, and finally arrived at the Naitung Dzongfu before the sun went down.
"After handing over the documents to the prisoners, I went to a low, dimly lit room they had arranged to rest. Maybe the day was too hurried, and he fell asleep on an empty stomach. When I woke up, I lay on the hay-covered ground, thinking that the first journey had been so smooth, and the gratitude in my heart was dedicated to White Tara with a prayer. I think that when I go back, the servants in the snow column will look at me differently. I simply packed up and went to Zongben to say goodbye. What I never expected was that Zongben used the excuse that there was no one under his command to ask me to send Old Master Mengle to the fortress of Shuba. I decided not to go on the pretext of not knowing the route, and Munakata reluctantly agreed to send an old man to take me over. We crossed the mountains again, worm-like slowly moving forward, the snow on the top of the mountain shining like diamonds in the sun, the tip of the wind in the wilderness stabbed people's bones like needles, and the grass under our feet had not yet returned to green, a golden yellow. We ran to a small, turf-built hut and asked the shepherd inside for a sip of hot tea. The shepherd was not surprised to see the exiled Lord Menler, and he told us that there was once an exiled prisoner who had been frozen to death on this mountain. He had seen many exiles passing through here, both monks and ordinary people and nobles, and at the end he sighed and said, 'Life is destiny, and you can only recognize it!' We listened to his nagging and continued on our way. Snowflakes were falling in the sky, the wind was even more bitterly cold, and I pulled the yellow cow in front, and the old man named Nyima Tsering pushed it from behind, and it took us a day to walk through this stretch of ridge. Down into the valley, it warmed up. The grass seedlings in the farmland at the foot of the mountain were green and green, and Nyima Tsering had relatives here, so we went to them. When we arrived at Takako, we also symbolically drew a few whips and then let us rush to a place called Kayu (Bird Township). After so many days of uninterrupted walking, it was sleepy and tired, and the words of Lord Meng le became less and less, and his eyes were full of despair as he lay on the back of the ox. I ignored him and listened to Nyima Tsering talk about the myths and legends here along the way.
"A few days later, we stored the cattle in the home where we stayed overnight, and took turns carrying Mr. Mengle to Jiayu. There is no road here, and the more you go in, the more trees you go, the more you can only walk through the boulder walls. The roaring river accompanies it all the way, and the water molecules float down to the cheeks from time to time. When I arrived in Kayu, Nyima Tsering told me that the mountains I was facing were himalayan mountains, and they stretched endlessly. The summit is covered with thick snow, below the snow line is the meadow, at the foot of the mountain there is a variety of bushy jungles, and the jungle is a field of yaks and goats halfway up the mountainside. It's a beautiful place, but I'm in a hurry to send Mr. Monra to Shuba, and I'm not in the mood to enjoy the view. Dorjee Tsering paused.
I saw that the beer on the table was almost finished, and turned my head to ask the hostess for a case. Wanza got up and shook to pee, and I had a drink with Dorjee Tsering. I churned through the images in the story he told, and I felt my head flutter a little.
"Nyima Tsering, citing his age, asked a young man from Kayu Village to help me go to Tsubasa. On the morning of departure came a stocky young man with a willow basket on his back, and he wanted to put Mr. Mengle in the basket. This is indeed much more convenient, but the road is getting more and more steep, and people are walking on the cliffs, and below them are rocky hills and rushing rivers. Once you fall, you will undoubtedly die. When I reached the head of the sun, a steep hill blocked the way, and the young man found a single wooden ladder to support the bottom of the mountain, and climbed up with difficulty on his back, and I followed in horror behind me, and my whole body trembled unceasingly. Then take a narrow boardwalk, the river below churning white waves, emitting a deafening roar, looking at the feet, the abyss, the legs trembling, afraid to wet their pants. Walking down the boardwalk I collapsed to the ground. At this point, I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that Nyima Tsering had sent me this young man, or I would have fallen to my death. It took me a long time to ease up and follow the young man into the deep mountains and old forests of the Himalayas. There was not a single person to be seen along the way except for the animals. At night we hid in a cave. The next day, walking to a cliff called Puba Mountain(Wooden Bridge Mountain), the young man found a long one-way wooden ladder to climb upwards, and his heavy panting came from above my head, climbing one level to rest for a while, and after a long delay we climbed to the top. After walking down the cliff for a long time into the ravine, I finally saw the two-story tower. Our momentum was lifted, and we took turns carrying the willow basket. But Old Master Meng Le was discouraged, a look of dazedness and despair. We walked to the tower, put the basket down, and a man with a sarcoma on his neck came out and asked us to leave Mr. Munchler on the open ground in front of the tower. We went into the tower to go through the handover procedures, and then I dragged the young man's head back without turning back, afraid that something would happen again. I seemed to hear a terrible scream coming from behind, but I didn't look back. We went down the hill and removed all the wooden ladders to prevent the prisoners from escaping. ”
"Toast the old man!" Wanza proposed.
We raised our glasses again and poured the wine into our mouths.
"Can't you escape when you get there?" Someone asked from a nearby table.
"I've got to pee!" Dorjee Tsering staggered toward the door.
"When you get there, you are surrounded by towering ice and snowy mountains, and there are strong Lhoba people in the east, and the people in the village of Yuba are always watching them, and there is no way to escape!" I explain it to people like this.
Dorjee Tsering sat down on a stool, the zipper of his pants unsealed, and the red autumn pants were conspicuously exposed.
Wanza took up his glass and asked, "What happened to this old man Meng Le later?" ”
"Stinky fart, know a ball." After the liberation of Tibet, he became a member of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference. ”
"Then he has to thank you bad old man!"
"Oh hehe—people pretend they don't know when they meet."
My mood slipped to a low point, probably because alcohol worked, and I didn't want to inquire about these prisoners anymore.
—END—
Yangtze River Literature and Art, No. 5, 2022
Responsible Editor | Ding East Asia
▲ Tsering Rob |
Tsering Rob, a native of Lhasa, Tibet, was admitted to the Department of Tibetan Literature of Tibet University in 1981 and received a bachelor's degree in Tibetan literature. He is currently a member of the Plenary Committee of the China Writers Association, the vice chairman of the Tibet Writers Association, and the editor-in-chief of Tibetan Literature. Academic leader of the Tibet Autonomous Region, cultural master of the Central Propaganda Department and "four groups of talents". He has won the Fifth Everest Literature Gold Award in Tibet, the Fifth Tibet New Century Literature Award, the First Moutai Cup "Novel Selection" Annual Award (2009) Ranking Award, the Fifth Lu Xun Literature Award, etc. His works have been translated into English, French, Spanish and many other languages.