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I walked up the stone stairs, hundreds
in number, on the mountain of the Himalayas and rang the bell…. .
It was a monastery located on the stony
slope. The river flowed beneath; I could hear it but not see it. As I
climbed up the mountain, serenity and graveness of the woods made me feel
calm and hopeful of my quest.
I had heard about this monastery up on
the high mountain peak, few miles away from Thimphu, capital of Bhutan. I
had also heard about its lama, a priest of the highest spiritual order, who
lived there.
I expected to be greeted but nobody
came. I wondered how the lama lived here all alone, but realized their
worldly needs were very minimal. Their devotion to God, the spiritual quest
to achieve nirvana occupied their existence. Their days and nights were not
counted, they remained absorbed in meditation.
Even food mattered very little. They
were suppose to take one meal a day, even that is often forgotten by some
for days.
I came to this lama, in this monastery,
climbed up thousand of feet, high on the Himalayas with a very specific
intention in mind. I traveled a long way to reach this height, with a flag
in my hand.
The Bhutanese fix the flags (which they
call luntah) up on the mountains, as high as they can get up the mountain,
with their prayer written on it, to reach it to God. They believe that their
prayer blown up to God in heaven, by the wind.
 I
set out on this journey, since when
I don’t remember….might
be since you left me….long time ago. I had to overcome innumerable
hurdles, crossed many barricades, but nothing could stop me from reaching my
goal.
I waited for such a long time-thirty
years in search of this place. I traveled almost all the five continents
and my journey completed on that mountain, I was standing there with the
flag in my hand.
When the plane touched down Paro airport
in Himalayan kingdom, I was so surprised that it took such a short time to
reach the mountains from the delta plains of Bengal.
I was praying to God for the safe
landing of the aircraft, I was told that it could be very dangerous to fly
through the mountains, especially during landing. My heart was full of, not
fear, but joy. I was overwhelmed by the sparkling beauty of the snow white
peaks of the Himalayas. All of a sudden, the plane came to a halt, in front
of a river, didn’t realized it had already landed. I thanked God.
I got out of the airport with minimal
formalities; the Bhutanese are mountain people with simple lives, kept their
airport formalities very brief. As I was a Flag bearer of friendly country,
the formalities were turned into courtesies. I was driven by an efficient
Bhutanese chauffeur through the winding mountain roads.
I passed Thimphu and reached the foot of
this peak of twelve thousand feet.
I had to walk and then the stone stairs
to go up, hundreds of them, the peak…to the monastery…to the lama… .
The lama, spiritual powerful priest,
very kind to the people. They come to pay him tribute and seek his blessing.
He helps them send their prayer to God.
They write their prayer on the flag-luntahs,
then the lama blesses it and puts the flag on a pole and fixes on the
ground, at the mountain top. The belief is that the wing will blow the word
up to the heavens, to God.
You gave your life for the noble cause
of liberating your motherland, became a martyr…you must be in heaven.
You are up there and I am down here…how
do I communicate to you? I decided to seek the help of this Lama to send you
this letter. My husband I lost you in the liberation war…the war you fought
for the betterment of the people, to free them oppression, to free them from
injustice.
Your children are fine; they are grown
up, taking care of themselves. It is time that I should take your path and
follow you… .
~~~
Written by
Mrs Mahmuda Haque Choudhury,
Former Ambassador of Bangladesh Government. It is an expression of her
feeling about her martyred husband Mr. Md Shamsul Haque, her sense of
achievement as first women Ambassador of Bangladesh. The article started its
journey in 1998 and reached it's present destination in 2007.
February 2007, New York
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