Today was a great little day for me. I stumbled onto a small festival where I was the only non-Ladakhi and the locals just brought me into the fold. The exact reason for the festival is still unclear to me, but monks and nuns from different monasteries were there to recite some Buddhist texts. The nuns were in the old gompa and the monks in a new building next door. This gompa is not a working one and is usually locked, so it was a rare treat to see its three enormous, ancient Buddha statues and faded murals in the back room. The locals prepared a huge, delicious lunch and everybody ate picnic-style on the grounds behind the gompa. The locals were in full form, especially the women, some of whom were probably mothers to monks and nuns. They served the tea and snacks to everyone, did all the dishes in the stream, made countless koras (clockwise circuits) around the monastery and had a great time together as friends. Most were dressed in their festival best and had fun making pictures with me. It always gets a little out of control…
Contrary to what people imagine, these Buddhist events are far from austere. The monks and nuns may be sitting but are in constant motion and interaction with each other, especially the young ones. They eat, drink, talk, laugh, nap, throw things at each other, take bathroom breaks together, and at times make the chanting so rowdy it’s like they’re having a party, which I guess in a way it is. It’s structured but fun, and definitely not uptight or strict (“human” is the word that usually comes to mind), which is probably part of the reason Buddhism thrives here. Why else would a kid want to become a monk or a nun?
I missed the last bus back to Leh but caught a ride with the ‘young nuns’ bus’, which was a whole new experience. After a long day of sitting and chanting they were ready to blow off some steam and they did with loud singing to Ladakhi music, laughing, screaming and playing. A few adventurous ones rode on the top of the bus in the luggage rack with a couple of monks. The monks on the other buses seemed just as wild and jolly, waving and yelling at the nuns when our paths crossed. As we drove through the villages people young and old threw water at the nuns and monks riding on top and sometimes it would come back the other direction, a playful game people like here. It was great to see people’s faces light up along the way when they saw our bus. The monks and nuns truly hold a special place in this culture.
I can’t begin to describe (and can only attempt to photograph) passing through the landscapes here. Nevertheless, it was a drem day for pictures and here are some of my favorites…
