Quest for peace in the Buddhachitta capital

One of the lasting memories of Timal is of the dying moments just before the sunset. 

The Timal region was always on my mind, especially after the start of the coronavirus pandemic towards the end of the year 2019.

The region had seen far better days before the pandemic.

Why would it not?

After all, it is, supposedly, the only place on Planet Earth where the magical Buddhachitta trees grow. Those trees bear those round, beautiful, magical beads called the Buddhachitta that cost (or used to cost in those heydays) a small fortune.

Obviously, for the faithful, the Buddhists from around the world in particular, that small fortune was nothing big. The soaring demand for the Buddhachitta helped fuel the local economy, enabling local communities to make hay and have a party. Bottles of alcoholic drinks finely arranged by the entrance to those inns are perhaps a reminder of both the good and the bad times that have passed Timal by.

At the height of the boom came reports about local farmers keeping guards to prevent the incidents of theft of those magical beads. Amid burgeoning trade and open hostilities, fights became common.

But good things don’t last, or do they?

First came the 2015 Gorkha Earthquake, then came the coronavirus pandemic and the Russia-Ukraine conflict, in a space of barely four years, pushing both the pandemic-infected global and national economies into deeper crises amid feeble signs of recovery.

Meadows from my magic book of memories. A remedy whenever my heart turns a little barren.  

Amidst these hard times, I went to meet Timal last week (Remember, I had a promise to keep) on a rain-soaked evening, to find that adverse weather conditions were already having an impact on the magical crop.

The Kot Timal Bazaar appeared half-asleep (Or was it me, tired to the bone at the end of an hours-long journey?).

To shake off sleep, I went around town, talked to a couple of people, feasted on Ainselus/Chautaris (Chutro) by the roadside and managed to capture the dying ‘northern lights’ of the day from the meadows.

As the morning matured, the talk became faster and more intense, making me wonder if the chirpy little thing was imitating heated exchanges in human families.

At the ‘guesthouse’, as it turned out, I was the only human guest! For most of the night, a bumblebee trapped in the room kept buzzing from I don’t know where, giving me some company. As ventilation was almost non-existent, I feared for my breath and remained awake for the most part.  

A pretty guest at the lodge where I had put up for the night after hours-long walk into the woods. 

The next morning, a rather chatty bird started his/her bird-talk long before the first tweets from Elon Musks, KP Olis and Donald Trumps of this world. Initially, I thought, it was the bird’s way of wanting to know whether I was impressed with the room service. But as the morning matured, the talk became faster and more intense, making me wonder if these chirpy little things imitate heated human exchanges that take place in families.

My footloose streak continued well into the afternoon, taking me to places like the Raktakali Temple, Timal and Narayansthan on foot. Through conversation with some locals, I came to know about the shortage of water in their areas and how they were tapping rainwater to use it for irrigation, washing and for the cattle.

Here, chatty birds start their talk long before the first tweets from Elon Musks, KP Olis and Donald Trumps of this world

Their hope was on a project that aimed to pump water from the Sunkoshi and distribute it to households through a network of water tanks and pipelines.

During my wandering into the woods, the sound of one-odd vehicle passing by occasionally would disturb the meditative peace of the woods that were in perfect harmony with chirps of birds and the roar of the Sunkoshi flowing down below. Occasional post-election rallies would prove that I had not ventured out too far.

Scars of development like landslides by the roadside dampened my spirit a little bit.

It is no secret that bulldozer-led works have often wreaked havoc and given development a bad name.

Now that local level elections are over, one hopes that newly-elected representatives will be a little more mindful of the environmental fragility of their constituencies. How about starting with environmental audits of past development works, learning vital lessons and moving on at albeit slow pace with environmental well-being, and not bulldozers, on the driving seat of development?

Here’s hoping that this will help places like the Buddhachitta capital remain at peace with themselves and the rest of the world, even amid crop failures. With peace and bliss, other good things such as progress will follow, won’t they?  

A tears-filled goodbye: Bye bye, my canine buddy. We shall meet again -- and soon. 

Text and pictures:  Devendra Gautam