The Cloud Maker

Silence fell as all eyes turned to the temple doors where Babu slowly slipped from Shara’s grasp. He stood uncertainly by her side, his large brown eyes staring from face to face in the crowd.

‘So the boy returns,’ Rega whispered, craning his neck round.

A muttering began as Shara led Babu forward by the hand. The monks pressed back and a ragged space was cleared all the way to the dais and the Abbot’s marble throne. Babu walked through it, his felt boots taking small, steady steps across the vast temple floor. His heavy sheepskin jacket was bunched up around his shoulders so that his chin was buried in the soft wool while his eyes stared out above, passing slowly from monk to monk.

As they approached, Rega raised a finger.

‘This is indeed the new reincarnation of the Panchen Lama,’ he shouted. ‘He has been within our very walls, yet the Abbot kept him from us. He deceived us all.’ Rega stalked forward to the edge of the dais. ‘Listen to me, my brothers. I will take the boy and restore him to his rightful place. I will return him to his seat in Shigatse and win back our country! ’

There was a cheer from some of the novices as Shara and Babu came to halt in front of the dais. Shara was staring at Rega, at his gold robes and the Dharmachakra raised in his right hand, unable to believe what had happened in her absence. He had taken control of the monastery.

Averting her eyes from his lifeless gaze, she turned to the Abbot, reaching forward and holding on to his arm.

‘The Chinese are coming,’ she whispered. ‘We must evacuate the monastery.’

Before the Abbot could answer, Rega turned back towards the crowd. He had heard what she had said.

‘The moment has come, my brothers!’ he bellowed. ‘The Chinese are finally upon us. It is time to fight!’

At this the Abbot finally raised his hand, trying to shout above the wave of fresh panic and shouting that erupted.

‘No! Do not give in to violence. We must evacuate, go deeper into the mountains… ’

‘Fight!’ Rega screamed again, punching his arm into the air. ‘It is time for Geltang to lead the revolution and defeat the Chinese! We must fight!’

The monks burst into action, surging towards the temple doors. Eyes were wide with elation while fists punched the air, mimicking Rega. Some held heavy brass candlesticks in their hands, while others had broken the low palisade surrounding the dais, using the thick wooden poles as makeshift cudgels. They began stampeding towards the temple doors, a mob ready to lynch anyone in their path.

Rega’s voice carried above the din, urging them on with every last breath, while the Abbot shouted in vain, still trying to be heard.

In the space just before the dais, Babu sat down on the floor. He inhaled deeply, tucking one leg across the other in the lotus position, and with his hands gently resting on his knees, began a slow, melodious chant. The words rolled from his lips as his eyes clamped shut, his expression changing to one of complete calm. Amidst the mayhem and confusion, his stillness attracted the attention of those immediately surrounding him.

The Abbot stared down at him, an incredulous smile on his lips. Then he moved forward and lowered himself on to the floor beside him, staring at the boy’s face for an instant before shutting his own eyes and picking up the same chant. Their two heads swayed back and forth in unison, the words rolling from their lips in a soft, unbroken flow.

In the semi-circle around the dais the crowd stared at them, caught between the hysteria of the novices and the sudden calmness of the Abbot and the boy. Dorje bustled to the front, joining them on the floor, before Shara quickly followed, settling herself down beside Babu. A few of the elders who were watching also lowered themselves on to the ground, picking up the rhythm of the chant. Then more followed. And still more.

Voice built on voice, merging together to create a steady undercurrent to the panic all around. Up on the dais, Rega jerked his head from side to side.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he shouted, trying to understand where the chant was coming from. ‘The Chinese approach. You cannot just sit here in prayer!’

Soon a different sort of movement was spreading through the great hall as the remaining monks looked back and saw a growing circle of their brothers seated on the floor. While some just turned to stare at the spectacle, others followed suit. Large swathes of the temple began to fill with seated monks, joined shoulder to shoulder, each swaying in rhythm with the chant.

The noise grew and grew as more monks returned to join their brothers on the floor of the temple, until only a few of the novices were left standing.

The Abbot got to his feet then, signalling to the trumpeter to sound the note again. It blasted out across the temple before wavering into silence. All eyes turned towards him.

‘Brothers, this is Geltang,’ he said, gesturing to the seated gathering. ‘Compassion is our guiding principle. Not violence.’

Gently raising Babu to his feet, he led him to the throne set on the dais. Clambering on to it, he looked tiny in the wide seat of ornately carved stone.

‘This is our new leader,’ the Abbot announced, turning to face the crowd once again. ‘We recognise His Holiness Babugedhun Choekyi Nyima, eleventh Panchen Lama and rightful leader of Tibet.’

A wave of bowing swept through those already seated, while the remaining novices by the temple doors quickly shuffled on to the floor. The Abbot looked at Babu who sat with his hands outstretched, just managing to balance them on the huge armrests of the throne.

‘It is for you to decide, Your Holiness. The Chinese approach. Do we evacuate the monastery? ’

Rega swung round towards the throne.

‘He is but a boy,’ he said in disgust. ‘How can he decide? ’

‘Silence!’ the Abbot declared, raising a finger. ‘You have no place here any more.’

Rega’s cheeks flushed with anger and he went to protest, raising the Dharmachakra above his head, but the Abbot turned towards the sea of monks before them.

‘Silence as His Holiness speaks!’ he shouted. The noise in the temple dropped to nothing as each monk stared expectantly at Babu.

‘We must leave,’ he said, his voice soft and high-pitched. ‘We must go as pilgrims to find sanctuary in the mountains. As your ancestors once did, and made Geltang.’

The Abbot nodded before turning back to the monks.

‘Take the treasure of Geltang and only what you need to survive,’ he ordered. Then, signalling for the temple doors to be opened wide, he stepped down from the dais. In a flurry of robes, every monk in the order got to his feet.

‘Now, my brothers, we must hurry.’

Chapter 56

The soldier stood just below the ridge, the sights of his rifle centred on Luca’s chest.

‘Don’t shoot!’ Luca shouted, slowly raising his hands above his head. He’d taken a step towards the edge of the gulley when there was a muffled boom and a spray of loose snow shot towards him in a long, sweeping arc. As Luca threw himself back on to the ground, the soldier’s finger instinctively squeezed around the trigger.

There was a thunderous crack and a flame leaped from the end of the rifle. The bullet smacked into the snow just behind Luca, missing him by inches. The soldier was hugging the stock tighter into his shoulder, quickly taking