Page 76 of Tiger's Quest
“No. Not that people haven’t tried. I came across an interesting piece of information, in fact. It seems that Adolf Hitler believed that Shangri-la held the key to the perfect ancient master race. He even sent a group led by a man named Ernst Schäfer on an expedition to Tibet in search of it in 1938.”
“Glad they didn’t find it.”
“Indeed.”
Mr. Kadam gave meLost Horizonto read and warned me that we would most likely leave by the end of the week. We went back to our normal routine for the next few days, but I felt nervous. I’d been through some scary experiences the last time we did this, but I’d always had Ren with me. I fought with him half the time and kissed him the other half, but despite all the emotional turmoil associated with that, I always felt safe. I knew he’d protect me from the evil monkeys and the Kappa.
Now that a new adventure loomed before me, I wanted Ren with me so desperately my insides felt achingly hollow. The only thing that kept me going was knowing I was doing this for him. I wouldn’t even allow myself to think he might not live through the next few weeks. He had to. Life without him would be meaningless.
I would still go through to the end for Kishan’s sake, though. I couldn’t abandon him. It wasn’t in my nature. I knew he would protect me the best he could, and I was feeling even more confident of my own abilities. But it wouldn’t be the same without Ren.
Each hour that passed produced no leads for finding him. Kishan was melancholy enough on his own, so I didn’t bother talking to him about it. It was awkward to talk about Ren with Kishan anyway since his confession. And if I talked to Mr. Kadam about it, he always looked guilty, buried himself in research, and stopped sleeping whenever I mentioned how hard it was for me without Ren.
Kishan and I didn’t speak again about his feelings for me. It was a little awkward at first between us, but we both doggedly ignored the subject until our relationship became easier. He continued to practice martial arts with me every day.
I found that I liked him more and more. There were definite similarities between the brothers, but there were several differences too. For example, Kishan seemed more careful than Ren. Kishan was willing to discuss any subject, but he was always slow to answer. His thoughts were insightful. He also was hard on himself and felt immense shame and self-recrimination over our situation.
However, there were things he said, words he chose, that reminded me of Ren. Kishan was easy to talk to, like his brother. Even their voices sounded the same. Sometimes, I forgot who I was speaking to and called him Ren accidentally. He said it was understandable, but I knew it hurt him.
Tension floated through the house the entire week before our trip. Finally, the day arrived for us to leave. The Jeep was loaded with our bags. With Kishan settled in Ren’s spot, we headed off. Mr. Kadam had traveling papers for each of us and explained that we would actually be driving through three different countries. I peeked into a bag and saw that my passports and papers now said K. H. Khan and featured an older picture of me from high school.Talk about a bad hair day.
Our destination was Nepal, to a city called Bhaktapur. It took two days just to traverse India, and we crossed into Nepal at the Birganj-Raxaul border. Mr. Kadam had to go through a long process of paperwork at the border and said we had to show proof of theCarnet De Passage En Douane—a customs document that granted us permission to temporarily import our vehicle into Nepal.
After we settled into a hotel, we left Kishan to nap, while Mr. Kadam took me out in a rickshaw to see the Birganj clock tower.
When we got back to our rooms, Kishan accompanied us to dinner at a restaurant near the hotel. Mr. Kadam orderedchatamarifor me, a kind of Nepalese pizza with dough made of rice flour. I picked a few toppings that I was familiar with. He orderedmasu, a curried meat with rice dish, for himself. He picked chicken, but it was also available in mutton or buffalo, which I didn’t know they had in Nepal. Kishan got vegetablepulao, a fried rice dish with cumin and turmeric, muttonmasu, andthuckpa, a stir-fried egg noodle dish.
The next day, we rose early for the drive to Bhaktapur. Mr. Kadam checked us into our hotel, and then we walked toward the main square. We passed a large market featuring dozens of kinds of pottery. Many of the pieces were colorfully painted over black clay, which seemed to be a common material.
Other stands displayed masks of animals, gods, goddesses, and demons. Vegetables, fruits, and food carts lured us closer. We bought some of the famous honeyed yogurt, calledkuju dhau. It was full of nuts, raisins, and cinnamon and was made from buffalo milk.
We left the market area and entered the main square. No rickshaws or taxis were allowed in the area. Mr. Kadam said that it kept the square quiet, clean, and peaceful. As we walked, he explained, “This is called Durbar Square. Ah, there’s what we’re looking for—the Vatsala Durga Temple.”
Two stone lions guarded the entrance to the temple. It was cone-shaped like the Virupaksha Temple in Hampi, but it had a brick patio surrounding it. Two large posts supported a giant bell next to the building.
“Hey, Mr. Kadam, I didn’t need to wear my bell anklet after all. There’s a giant bell up there.”
“Yes. It’s called the Taleju Bell. It’s made of bronze, and it rests on the temple’s plinth. Would you like to hear the story of the bell?”
“Sure.”
“Its nickname is the Barking Bell. One of the ancient kings who lived here had a dream. The stories vary, but in his dream, nightmarish, dog-like creatures attacked the people during the night.”
“Dog-creatures? Sounds like werewolves.”
“That is very possible. In his dream, the only way to frighten the creatures away and save the people was to ring a bell. The peal of the bell was so loud and so strong that the creatures left them alone. When the king awoke, he immediately ordered a special bell to be made. Such was the power of his dream. The bell was cast and used to signal curfew for the townsfolk. As long as the townspeople followed the signal of the bell, they were believed to be safe. Many people still say that dogs will bark and whine each time that bell is rung.”
“That’s a good story.” I elbowed Kishan. “I wonder if it works on were-tigers.”
Kishan caught my elbow, pulled me closer, and teased, “Don’t bet on it. If a tiger comes after you, you won’t be able to easily frighten him off. Tigers are veryfocusedcreatures.”
Something told me he wasn’t speaking of the same thing I was. I desperately searched for something I could say to change the subject.
Most of the men walking around wore tall caps on their heads. I asked Mr. Kadam about them, and he launched into a long, detailed recitation of the history of fashion and religious wear.
“Mr. Kadam, you are like a walking encyclopedia on every subject imaginable. You’re very handy to have around and more interesting to listen to than any other teacher I’ve ever had.”
He smiled. “Thank you. But, please, feel free to let me know if I ever get carried away on a particular subject. It’s one of my personal foibles.”
