Season of Passage, The (31 page)

'I always meant to tel you about it,' Jim said. 'In fact, the story I referred to is about that ring. It's a rather long tale, but we have time. Would you two

like to hear it?'

Gary and Lauren were agreeable. Jim closed his eyes for a moment and let the delightful memory wash clean his mind.

'At the beginning of last June, I took a ten-day leave from our training schedule and traveled to India,' he said. 'Like al of us at the time, I was very

excited about going to Mars, but the work was seemingly endless, and I wanted to get away. I'm not sure why I chose India. I've always been

fascinated by the country, and I've been there several times, of course, but only in the south. In India, though, wherever you are, the Hindus speak of

the Himalayas in the north with superstitious awe. I'd heard so many stories about the great yogis who lived there, who could read minds and

levitate, that I figured I just had to have a look.

'I flew into Delhi. The first night I stayed with an old friend of mine - Peter Davidson. He's original y from California, but he had married an Indian

woman, and had long been living in her country. He has two sons, Panda and George. I told Peter of my desire to visit the Himalayas, and he was

enthusiastic. Unfortunately, he couldn't get away from his classes. He teaches astronomy at the University of Delhi. But Panda and George - one's

twenty, the other's nineteen - were out of school. They said they'd

love to be my guides. It seems they had gone on a number of religious pilgrimages to the temples in the Himalayas.

'Five days later found us in Gangotri, a tiny vil age about two miles above sea level. It's way back in the mountains. By then I'd seen many a temple

and met many a sannyasi -the saffron-clad monks who inhabit al of India. I was having a wonderful time. I love to travel, and the people I had spoken

to about the Himalayas had been right about the special feeling you find in those mountains. I was not having religious experiences by any stretch of

the imagination, but I felt like a kid again. I wanted to see and do everything. I wanted to stay. Stil , I hadn't met any yogis who had impressed me as

enlightened or possessing supernatural powers. In that respect, I was somewhat disappointed, but I hadn't given up hope.

'I was up early one morning, strol ing down the cobblestoned street of Gangotri, when I met a sweet old man. He looked over a hundred. He had

been educated in England, at Oxford, and we sat together and talked for hours. He didn't have a tooth in his head, but he did have a habit of

breaking into fits of laughter that would last five minutes at a stretch. He was wonderful company.

'He told me about a val ey I should visit near the Gaumukh Glacier. The glacier lay only twelve miles northeast of where we were seated, and the

val ey beneath it was supposed to be fil ed with flowers of a hundred different varieties. He spoke of it as an enchanted val ey, and said many il s

could be cured just by walking through it. By the way, the idea of the therapeutic nature of smel s was not new to me. In Ayurveda - that's ancient

Indian medicine - there are whole sections of text devoted to aromatic cures. The old man told me he had gone for a walk through the val ey on his

eighty-fifth birthday, when he was about to die, and that had been ten years ago and he was

feeling great. He cal ed the val ey Devashan - the dream of the gods.

'I was sold. I dashed back to my room at the ashram and told Panda and George about the val ey. They shared my enthusiasm for the trip. Within an

hour, toting our camping equipment, we were on our way.

'We made excel ent time that day. I told you this was June, and the bridle path we fol owed was free of snow. My companions were experienced

mountaineers. But the sun began to set before we could reach the glacier. We camped that night in a rock hol ow just off the path. I remember fal ing

asleep that night with a mil ion stars in the sky. I felt at peace, and I slept deeply.

'The next day we reached Devashan. The old man had been right - it was one uninterrupted sheet of flowers. It stretched for several miles, half a

mile below the lip of the glacier. I know it may sound odd, so many blooming flowers so near a bank of icy snow, but the glacier does in fact melt

several feet in the summer. Although it was sunny, the val ey was stil cool.

'I cannot describe the smel of Devashan to you. It saturated the air, but I would be doing a disservice to the place to say I felt smothered in aromas.

The air was wonderful y stimulating. I bounded forth into the val ey, with Panda and George at my heels. But we might have been too hasty. George

stepped on a stone and twisted his ankle. It was not a bad sprain, and there was a nearby stream where he was able to soak it in the cold waters.

He did not feel like walking any more that day, though, and his brother wanted to stay behind with him. I told them I would walk just a few miles into

the val ey and then return. I figured we could camp by the stream where George was soaking his foot. I believed a night's rest was al he needed to

recover.

'There was hardly a cloud in the sky as I climbed down into the val ey. But after I had been walking less than an hour, the sky suddenly clouded over.

Summer storms know a special kind of sorcery in the mountains. When I say suddenly, I mean it. Thunder roared, lightning cracked. I was soaked in

seconds. I turned around and started back. Then things started to get interesting.

'Devashan normal y had a strong smel . I have already made that point. I can't say the rain actual y increased the strength of the odor. It may even

have decreased it. However, when the water mixed with the many flowers, it sent different smel s into the air. Indeed, I found myself taking in lungfuls

of intoxicating aromas. But I use the word intoxicating reluctantly. I didn't feel stoned. In fact, I felt more awake. The sky was a dreary gray, but now

the flowers appeared to be glowing. Everything was beautiful, il uminated. I know what you must be thinking. That I had fal en under the influence of a

hal ucinogenic. I can't argue the point, except to say that it was a hal ucinogenic unlike any I have ever read about. It seemed to have no side effects.

But now I'm going to total y contradict myself. I couldn't find my way back to Panda and George.'

'Why not?' Lauren asked.

'I don't know,' Jim said.

'Were you walking in circles?' Gary asked.

'No,' Jim said. 'I headed straight back the way I came. The only problem was, when I got to the stream it was gone. So were the guys. The glacier

covered the whole area.'

Gary snorted inside his helmet. 'You were stoned.'

Jim smiled. 'If you think that now, wait until I finish my story.' He paused to clear his throat. 'I began to walk south along the glacier. I did not know

what to think. By the position of the sun I knew I had not walked to the other end

of the val ey by mistake. I could pinpoint it as the clouds began to clear and the rain stopped. Then I real y began to wonder what was going on.

Devashan is a val ey beside a glacier in the Himalayas. Yet it is not surrounded by towering peaks as you might imagine. The region stays between

the elevations of nine thousand to eleven thousand feet. That's high, of course, but not for the Himalayas. As the clouds blew away, however, I found

myself surrounded by peaks of staggering grandeur. There were literal y a dozen of them. What was even more surprising was that I didn't

recognize any of them from the maps I had studied. Yes, I know, I was hal ucinating, but they were there nevertheless.

'I final y decided to climb a nearby peak to get my bearings. There was a low one not a half mile across the glacier from the val ey. I trudged across

the ice worrying about Panda and George. I knew they would think I had fal en and injured myself.

'As I worked my way up the side of the peak, I noticed that my watch had stopped. It was a good watch - the rain shouldn't have affected it. Then I

saw that it was getting dark. That threw me completely off balance. It had been eleven in the morning when I had left Panda and George and walked

into the val ey. At worst I figured it must be three or four in the afternoon. But you can't argue with the sun. I spotted a cave and went inside, planning

to spend the night there. Once again, I was not worried about myself. I have been lost many times in my travels, and have always managed to find

my way home. The soil on the floor of the cave was soft. The temperature inside was pleasant. I regularly suffer from insomnia, but I curled up inside

that cave and fel asleep in seconds.

'When I awoke it was morning. The sun shone directly into the mouth of the cave. I stood and stretched, and it was

then I noticed someone sitting further back in the cave. I hesitated to disturb him. I figured he was a yogi. He was sitting in the lotus position with his

spine held perfectly erect. I had been warned in Gangotri never to interrupt a yogi when he was meditating. However, I didn't want to just leave. I was

completely lost. I had my canteen, but no food. I was hungry. I took a few steps toward the man.

'He must have heard me coming. I heard a soft intake of breath and saw his eyelashes blink. He glanced over at me. He was far enough back in the

cave that the shadows were outdoing the morning sun, but I could see right away how handsome he was. He had long black hair and a long black

beard. He appeared to be about twenty-five. Unlike most Indians, he was tal and wel -muscled. His skin was also remarkably fair. In fact, I

wondered if he was from India at al . Yet I was convinced he was a yogi, although I hadn't spoken a word to him. The feeling that surrounded him

was enchanting in its gentleness. He smiled at me and I felt welcome.

'I told him my name and apologized for disturbing his silence. His smile broadened at my words. He answered in a language I did not recognize.

That was not a major surprise. India has so many different dialects, a man could go crazy trying to learn them al . I had spoken to him in Hindi, the

most common language spoken in the Himalayas, and now I switched to Tamil. Again he answered me in the same peculiar tongue. I puzzled over

the melodious nature of his speech. I know a great deal about languages, and his was unlike any I had ever heard before. It was almost as if he

were singing a song to me.

'He sat and watched me for a bit, smiling faintly. He wore a dark blue robe. It was wrapped tight at his waist, but hung loose over his shoulders. His

feet were bare and heavily cal used. His eyes were as black as space. I must tel

you again how beautiful he was. Although I could not understand him, I stil felt very much at home with him.

'Final y he rose to his feet. He pointed deeper into the cave, indicating we were to go that way. By chance I had a smal flashlight in my back pocket.

I took it out and showed him how it worked. He seemed amused. He stepped to a corner of the cave and emerged with two thick wooden sticks

that were wrapped at the top with oily cloth. They were obviously torches, but as we walked deeper into the cave, he made no move to light them,

relying instead upon my flashlight. You might ask why I started to fol ow him in the first place. I don't know, I had no other place to go.

'The passage narrowed. It wound sharply and led us downward at a steep angle. The wal s were covered with a fine dust. When I scraped it away I

found a yel owish marble underneath. Several times we came to spots where we had to duck our heads to get by. Yet on the whole the way was

comfortable. The yogi walked on my left, slightly before me. His stride was graceful, and he hardly seemed to breathe. He could have stil been in

meditation. I know, it's strange - he was leading me far underground. Yet I trusted him. He was so peaceful, and his smile was so warm.

'We walked for over an hour, when I began to notice two things. First, my flashlight was slowly dying. Once more I was puzzled. I knew the batteries

were fresh. Also, the temperature was increasing. I removed my jacket and tied the arms around my waist. Even though the yogi spoke to me from

time to time, I made no progress in deciphering his language.

'I was in good shape at the time, preparing for this trip to Mars. Perhaps that was the reason why the further we walked and deeper we went, the

fresher I felt.

'The flashlight continued to dim. I found myself bumping the wal s. Final y the yogi stopped and held up his two torches. In one swift move he

smashed the heads together. Immediately they caught fire and burned with a white light. Because of the color of the light, at first I suspected the

torch heads were coated with a magnesium powder. I figured the chemical would soon burn away and leave us with ordinary orange flames. Such

was not the case. The torches continued to burn white and bright. I was dumbfounded.

'He handed me a torch, and we continued to walk deeper. We could have walked for maybe two hours. The yogi maintained a brisk pace. More

and more I began to sense an energy radiating from him. That is a poor choice of words, but it gives you an idea of how vibrant it felt to be in his

presence. I also believe the place we were exploring had something to do with how I felt. The silence was uncanny. When we had traveled better

than six miles, a quarter of that in the vertical direction, the air underwent a sharp rise in humidity. It got thicker, more satisfying. I smel ed a very faint

fragrance. It reminded me of camphor. Yes, camphor - the stuff parents rub on the chests of children when they have chest colds. It may very wel