No time for love if they come in the morning, no time for goodbyes, no time for a warning….
As the train sped through the North Devon landscape on its way to London Dorothy began to read the graphic novel Rosa had left on the train a few minutes before.
The phone call from her father had come early that morning & she knew at once that he needed her home. Both David & Susan had agreed that she should catch the first train to London they could get her on from Hartland. So David had driven her to the station at terrifying speed just in time to catch the 9.14 to Victoria. It was about to leave as David brushed aside the ticket inspector at the barrier who tried to stop Dorothy from boarding the train.
“She has to get on this train. Her father’s desperately ill. She can buy a ticket on the train. Sorry but this really is an emergency”
Not strictly speaking true but it had been enough to ensure that she managed to get on the train just as it was about to leave so she quickly hugged David who put some notes in her hand.
"They’ll try & charge you double for your ticket. Once you get to London take a cab home & phone us as soon as you get here. I want to know what's happening with him”
“Thanks David. But I’m sure he’s fine. Of course I’ll phone you. I’ll probably be back in a few days”.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek. As she climbed aboard she was nearly knocked over by a young woman & older companion who brushed passed her on their way out of the carriage.
‘’Sorry we didn’t realise this was our stop. Too busy talking”
The older of the two women spoke directly to Dorothy as she got off the train and onto the platform. Dorothy was sure she recognised her. Then the young woman spoke
“Dorothy. What the hell are you doing here?”
Dorothy took a brief moment to recognise her then realised it was her cousin Rosa who she had last seen in London nearly a year ago at Rosa’s 16th birthday party. They had been good friends when younger, in fact for some time Dorothy had considered Rosa to be her best friend. She was only 18 months younger than Dorothy and they had spent many holidays together in Devon, Spain & Scotland.
“I’ve been staying with David & Susan. I’m travelling back up to London because Dad phoned about...... But what are you doing here?”
The porter began to shout at them from further down the platform.
“That door needs closing now. This train is about to depart. Please either get on or get off. Now!”
David, who was still standing on the platform where he’d said goodbye to Dorothy came across to see what’s going on.
“Rosa! I didn’t know you were arriving today.”
“ Didn't Susan tell you, we're staying in the Mitchell's cottage in Hartland for a couple of weeks?”
“I don’t think she did….. oh yes now I remember, she did, but she thought it was next week. So it’s lucky I’m here to give you a lift”
“This is mum's friend Anthea. Mum’s working till Friday & then coming to join us. ”
She indicated the other woman who David shook warmly by the hand.
“Hey really pleased to meet you Anthea at last. So glad you finally made it down here”
“Good to meet you too David. I’ve heard a lot about you. Now Rosa, you need to get off the train, then we both need to get back from it & Dorothy can close the door. That porter is getting rather irate.”
As indeed he was. Striding up the platform towards them waving his flag and shouting.
“You three need to step back away from the train & the young woman on the train needs to close the door as she is holding up its departure. NOW!”
Rosa gave Dorothy a big hug & jumped down off the train. The rest of the conversation between Rosa & Dorothy, who had managed to close the door, took place after the porter blew his whistle loudly, seemingly venting his rage through it at these insubordinate and disobedient passengers and then furiously waved his red flag.
The train began to leave with Rosa walking then running alongside it. She did most of the talking or rather shouting seemingly unphased by the combination of running & conversing at the same time. This was probably down to her cross country running training in which she had won a number of international cups & medals. If it wasn’t for her unconditional love of making art she would almost certainly have become a member of the under 18 Olympic cross country team. Though as she had told Dorothy on a couple of ocassions: “All that competitive stuff bores me silly. I do it because I love running through the countryside. Simple as that”
“We’ve had to change at Exeter already as we got on the wrong train that doesn’t stop here. What a drag that I can't travel back to London and catch up with you. How’s Red?”
“She’s fine. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.”
“Oh shit my sketch book! I’ve left it on the train".
“Where is it?”
The train was beginning to pick up speed and Dorothy’s carriage was nearing the end of the platform.
“I think it’s on the seat. Third table on the left after you go into the carriage”
“I’ll send it to you”.
“Read it Dorothy, I’d really like to know what you think. It’s the first draft of a graphic novel comic book kind of thing though I haven’t quite got a title for it yet…….”
These last words shouted at the top of her voice from the very end of the platform as the train sped up on its cross country journey to London. For a moment Dorothy wondered if Rosa would continue running alongside the track but she stopped suddenly & waved wildly at her cousin.
“OK. I’m sure I’ll find it. I look forward to reading it!”
Dorothy shouted back with no idea whether Rosa could hear her.
She pulled her head into the carriage just before the train went into a short tunnel, closed the rather stiff window with difficulty, picked up her rucksack, put her handbag over her shoulder and opened the door into the long space that was carriage D on the 08.35 from Exeter to London Victoria via various stops including Hartland.
As Dorothy opened the door and walked into the almost empty carriage she could see on the front facing window seat of the 3rd row on the left a brightly coloured A4 notebook just as Rosa had told her. The front & back of which, on closer inspection, was covered in intricate drawings of animals & people in Rosa’s unmistakable style of fantastic realism.
From an early age Rosa had developed an extraordinary natural talent of imaginative drawing & drawing from life. Filling endless notebooks with narrative drawings in the form of cartoons, comic books & sketches of her own particular brand of landscapes, cities, mythical creatures, humans, heroes & heroines. Using a wide variety of media: pencils, felt tips, pastels, crayons, water colours, rapidographs.....
As she grew older her drawings & paintings had become more detailed & beautiful. She was the youngest student ever to get an A+ in Art & design. Dorothy had never had any doubt that Rosa would fulfil her dream of going to university to do graphic design. She had told most everyone she knew or met that after finishing uni she would produce & publish a series of “very succesful” comic books or, as she preferred to call them, “graphic novels” that would put Marvel & DC in the shade.
There was nobody sitting in any of the four seats round the table. Dorothy removed her rucksack, put it in the rack above the table followed by her coat & green knitted beret. She sat down in the seat that Rosa had recently vacated, opened her handbag and took out the large egg mayonnaise sandwich, the apple, mixed fruit & nuts, a bar of plain chocolate and a small bottle of fresh pear juice that Susan had prepared and given her before she left.
“It’s a long journey. The food on trains, though better than it used to be, is still fairly appalling and outrageously priced”
She put the food & drink on the table and began to eat the sandwich while looking again at the intricate artwork on the covers of the notebook. Animals, humans, landscapes & objects that included a panda, an eagle of some sort, a leopard, a smiling pig, an old & a young monk in yellow robes, a group of monks also in yellow robes round a big fire, a group of soldiers wearing caps with red stars on carrying guns, what looked like a cowboy on a white horse, the outline of possibly a monastery or hill top castle, trees, the statue of a buddha, mountains & snow. All interwoven on the cover surrounding some beautiful illuminated Celtic inspired lettering.
She opened the cover & began to read.
WE PLAN EVENTUALLY TO TURN THIS NEXT SECTION OF ALBIONS CHILDREN INTO A GRAPHIC NOVEL (ONCE WE’VE FOUND THE RIGHT ARTIST TO WORK WITH). SO IF YOU OR ANY GRAPHIC ARTIST THAT YOU KNOW WOULD BE INTERESTED IN THIS THEN PLEASE EMAIL ME heartdancing@mac.com & WE CAN DISCUSS IT.
SO BEST TO READ IT WITH THAT IN MIND........
“The morning sun was not yet lighting the monastery when the Pig, the Cat & the Panda met to watch the monks as they burnt scrolls, thangkas & other precious objects on the huge bonfire that blazed in the courtyard next to the gateway that led out into the mountains, their breath misting in the freezing cold morning air. Some of the monks were carrying gilded statues of Buddhas & Taras wrapped in sacking out into the vegetable plots on either side of the monastery, hacking at the frozen earth with picks & shovels to dig deep holes and bury them.
The Chinese soldiers were only a couple of days march away and would soon arrive with orders to drive the monks out into the surrounding countryside and burn the monastery to the ground. Most of the younger monks were preparing to leave & head out across the mountains to India. But some of them in particular were not prepared to let the Chinese as Trungpa put it “Trample us and Buddhism into the mud”.
He, Akong and some of the other young monks were disputing with the abbot & the older monks. Trying to persuade them to leave the monastery and travel with them across the mountains. A long, difficult and dangerous journey but as Trungpa said “We must continue the dharma somewhere else. It’s time to take it out into the world. But surely we should resist them. Put up a fight”
“If you stay here & resist who knows what the soldiers will do to you. No you must leave as we have agreed. We older monks cannot travel as fast as you can so we'd just slow you down. The Chinese will get here and when they do it will be our pleasure to meet and greet them as our guests, however they behave towards us. Perhaps some of them will listen to us. Unlikely I know but anything my son is possible" said the Abbot speaking, as was his habit, slowly & deliberately. His body wrapped in a few layers of woollen orange robes against the bitter cold. In spite of the seriousness of the situation his weather beaten & lined face was lit by his serene smile as his piercing blue eyes studied the young men before him.
“I think the Abbot is right” said Akong “ They have guns and other weapons so we would be easily overpowered. We have vowed to follow ahimsa, to not knowingly harm any living creature. Whatever they may have done or be about to do we should not forget that they too are caught in the web of illusion like all demons whatever their shape or appearance. Remember how Milarepa held conversations with the demons who visited him in his cave?”
“Yes, of course I do” said Trungpa with a note of irritation in his voice. He liked & respected Akong, only a year older than him, but sometimes just sometimes.....
“But these demons will not engage in discourse".Then he shrugged “I suppose you’re right.We should leave soon. I just wish we could take you all with us Father”
"You, Akong & the others must leave before the sun rises. That will give you a good head start on the soldiers. Come and find me in the prayer room when you're ready and we will sound the bell before you leave. I know this is hard for all of us but.....it is how it is"
He turned and with a couple of the older monks following, walked back to the main monastery door, turned & stood for a moment gazing at the fire then went inside.
Stories of atrocities, burnings, killings and mass destruction of monasteries, Buddhist & Bon temples across Tibet had filtered through to the monastery at Long Gompa a few days before. It had been carried by an exhausted horseman. He had travelled for 3 days to bring them the news. To warn them that the soldiers intended to march here, the most secluded and impenetrable monastery in the country.
Out there many miles away in Beijing the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist party had declared that they had finally lost patience with the Tibetan religious practices and, as they put it " the insolence & arrogance of the running dogs of medieval Buddhist ignorance"
The lands and all the property of every monastery in the colony of Tibet, long considered a legitimate part of China, would as Mao ze Dhong had declared "be returned to its rightful owners, the glorious & all powerful proletariat of the Tibetan & Chinese people once again united in brotherly & sisterly comradeship against the reactionary forces of religious conservatism & superstition" or to put it another way "there will be rich pickings for the communist party"
“They are like demons with red stars on their caps. They have no compassion and carry their little book as if it had magical powers. The Teachings & Sayings of Chairman Mao. Nothing anyone says will stop them in their craziness. They wave their books at us. Shout at us in Chinese and destroy everything in their path. Like a scene from one of the hell worlds. Awful, awful…” The messenger had told the Abbot & the other monks, shaking his head as he ate the stew and millet he had been given. He was almost too exhausted to eat but gratefully swallowed it down while advising the Abbot to leave as soon as possible taking what treasures they could.
The Abbot had called a council of all the monks. After prayers, chanting & meditation lasting a brief couple of hours (a short ceremony for them compared to the hours they often spent chanting, meditating or making ceremonies & sand mandalas) he had spoken to the gathering of monks of all ages, from boys in their dark red novice robes to a monk carried in on a stretcher who was rumoured to be over a hundred years old. The congregation was totally silent as he related the news that the messenger had brought and what he proposed to do.
“All this around us, hundreds of years old though it is, beautiful, precious and a manifestation of the teaching of the Buddha, is just, like everything, illusion my brothers & sisters. It is the Dharma and our faith in his teachings for the liberation of all beings that will continue however much these Chinese try and destroy them & us. Some of us are too old to travel from here. This has been our life and we cannot now abandon our home. But those of you who have energy and youth on their side must leave here tomorrow and travel across the mountains to India. Some of our fellow country men & women are already there”
So, after a brief discussion, some questions about where the monks would go, "India" was his simple reply, the decision had been made. Akong & Trungpa, both in their twenties and considered amongst the wisest and most knowledgeable of the younger monks were entrusted with leading a group of 10 monks, their wives, children and a few ponies across the snow covered mountains to the distant call of Mother India. Carrying with them some of the monastery's most precious scrolls, thangkas & small gilded statues of the White Tara, The Green Tara, Manjusri & Maitreya.
The council of monks had also decided to destroy as much of the precious heritage of the monastery’s gorgeous Thankgas, painstakingly painted on embroidered silk, many hundred year old scrolls containing esoteric rituals and the core teachings of The Heart Sutra. Which was why the bonfire, constructed during the night, now burnt fiercely consuming the heritage of hundreds of years and lives spent in the walls and surrounding mountains of this remote corner of Tibet.
“What shall we do?”asked the Pig.
“I will stay here" said Tsu Lyn, the Panda "After all I am almost Chinese. We panda’s have a long history of living alongside them though this current situation really takes the bamboo. They may wonder what a Panda is doing in the monastery but my guess is they’ll look after me and take me back to China. If they cut up rough I’ll use my martial arts on them and head up into the mountains and link up with the travellers. I'm used to moving through snow. The Ho Shin bamboo groves were on the edge of mountains and we would get deep in snow for many sunrises and sunsets when the cold time came.”
Red the cat stretched and spoke next."
Dorothy stopped for a moment & re read the last sentence. Yes definitely Red the cat. She read on.
“ I’ll go along with the young monks. So it's probably time to do a bit of shape shifting. The monastery cat is not going to last long out there in the blizzards, ice & sheer cliffs. I haven’t visited my snow leopard form for a while. In that shape I’ll be able to scout ahead or behind and check out what’s going on with these soldiers.” He yawned, stretching a long sinuous line from his front paws through his spine to his tail.
“So if you’ll excuse me I’ve got some shape shifting to do. Oh.....and Pig you’re small enough to get into one of those baskets they’re packing with scrolls and hangings. So I suggest you do that & travel with them.”
“Absolutely” said the Pig.
The Pig had not relished the idea of being burnt to the ground by demonic soldiers or spending days in cold wet snow tramping across mountains to India, though it was somewhere he had good memories of. Unlike all other pigs he had known he was not fond of wetness or muddiness, preferring to keep his soft pink fur & body away from such unpleasant experiences. He knew that he could offer support & advice to the monks on the journey. Something he had done a lot of over the past year or so, though he had to admit that it wasn't always received with the enthusiasm he expected. But he had immediately realised that snoozing in a warm basket wrapped in precious hangings, reading inspiring texts was certainly a much better option than tromping across glaciers and up mountain passes, however valuable his knowledge and insights might be to the travellers.
“I was just about to suggest that myself. Definitely a good idea. I can do some meditations and visualisations on world peace as we’re travelling. That'll certainly help the overall situation out there. But how will I get into a basket without one of the monks seeing me?"
"Don't worry little pig. You'll be fine. Remember what a good friend the monk Trungpa is to you." Red replied.
Pig nodded, knowing that Red, with his extraordinary mind to mind powers often knew of events, actions & decisions that involved humans before they happened.
The Pig turned to Tsu Lyn.
"I don’t think we should leave you here, those soldiers sound like….”
“I’ll be fine. It means that I can report back on what the energy is like amongst the Chinese. Anyway you know I can look after myself. I’ll meet you in India in a few weeks time.”
“I’d better go” said Red “Siberian Tiger is also a possibility I suppose but whatever shape I'm changing into I need a bit of time & space to get it done. I’ll track you & the monks once you get going Pig. Oh and if there’s any spare roasted buffalo ribs in the kitchen (not all the monks took their non harming vows as seriously as Akong) see if you can smuggle them into the basket. All that running through snow and leaping about from rock to rock will make me hungry, there won’t be much deer or yak out there at this time of year for me to get my teeth into.”
Pig looked at him nervously. Much as he loved Red he sometimes found his unapologetic carnivorous appetite a little unsettling.
"As they say in Tokyo. Sayonara....” Red stretched out to his full length once more, then leapt onto the monastery wall, twitched his tail and disappeared over the other side into the thick forest growing along the western edge of the courtyard.
Tsu Lyn and the pig embraced. Holding each other for a long moment.
"How will you know where in India were heading for?" the Pig asked as they separated.
" My guess is it'll be the monastery at Dharamasala, that's where most of the monks from other parts have fled to. But I'll find you wherever you are, remember how good my intuition is? Take care of yourself and keep an eye on Trungpa. He's rather angry about this and could blow his cool at the wrong moment. Goodbye little Pig. A bientot."
She kissed him quickly on the cheek and moving fast for such a large bear she ran along the edge of the monastery wall and disappeared into a side entrance, leaving the pig standing on his own watching the continuing burning of precious objects and texts. He felt suddenly lonely and a little afraid. But more importantly he felt rather hungry. His reverie on where he might find a snack or two before turning his attention to stowing away in the basket as Red had suggested was broken by Trungpa's voice.
"Hey little pig I think you'd better come with us. I'm certainly not leaving you to be turned into spare ribs or pork fritters when the Chinese arrive. We can fit you in one of the baskets we're taking with us. Lucky you're so small my friend"
From the moment the Pig had arrived at the monastery one hot summers afternoon on the back of a hawkers cart piled high with cabbages, pak choi and fresh yams Trungpa had taken an immediate liking to him.
" No ordinary Pig this. A genuine miniature Tibetan pig.”*See Footnote
(Though of course his current form as a Tibetan pig, which he’d been adopting for the last year or so, was only temporary until his situation and living conditions changed.)
A rare breed these days, certainly in other parts of Tibet where the Chinese have either eaten them all or brought in their own overweight sows and porkers. Don't worry my friend you'll be safe here. Most of us don't eat meat & certainly not pork"
So Trungpa had befriended him and the friendship had deepened over the past year. The Pig was allowed to sit with Trungpa in the Library when Trungpa was studying and, when no one was watching, he read through some of his own, now treasured texts, written many centuries earlier in the temple in Srinagar when he had incarnated in the form of Milarepa, crazy monk & sage. In fact his most recent incarnation before this one when he'd been born as a Dutch pig in Amsterdam in 1665.
His abilities as a limited shape shifter with some minor attributes of immortality had served him well so far on a planet increasingly over run by a species he had once been a member of, which he had become increasingly convinced was possibly the most dangerous, in certain aspects of its behaviour, that evolution had produced since the most ferocious of the dinosaurs"
"No time to lose. We're planning to leave before the sun is up. I'll pack you with some of the Heart sutra texts. Should give you good reading on the way. So meet me by the bonfire in a few minutes and well get you safely & comfortably packed"
Trungpa spoke quickly. He patted Pig on the head before striding back towards the bonfire issuing clear instructions to the group of young monks, wives and children as he went.
"We're taking as little as possible apart from food, warm clothes & blankets. The two largest baskets need to be packed with the precious items. We must be ready to leave as the sun is rising The bell will be rung, the Abbot will speak to us and then we will leave. For India. Let's get moving"
A short time later, after a quick visit to the now empty kitchen to acquire three rather greasy but fleshy buffalo chops for Red as well as some dried apricots, nuts and mango for himself, all of which he had carefully wrapped in old prayer flags used by the kitchen staff to dry pots and pans, that the Pig with Trungpa's help had slipped into one of the large baskets now almost full of thankgas, prayer flags & texts. He had made himself comfortable & almost invisible by pulling some of the textiles over and around him.
"I'll see how you're doing later little pig. Now I must fetch the abbot" Akong had said to him as he fastened the basket lid.
The Pig was settling down to engage in his favourite past times of snoozing when he was brought back to the present moment by the sound of the monastery bell being rung. Long sonorous peals that penetrated deep into his body. He knew that the Abbot was about to speak.
The Abbot stood on the verandah outside the front door of the monastery looking down the flight of five wide stone stairs that descended into the courtyard. The monks,their wives and children were gathered below him with those who were about to depart standing slightly apart with four ponies laden with baskets and panniers lashed carefully round their small sturdy bodies.
Very slowly like a murmur rising from the core of the earth herself the sound of chanting began to grow as the Abbot raised his hands to the sky above, his palms open in blessing while the monastery bell continued to toll and the first orange rays of the rising sun lit the faces of the gathering in front of him
The chanting continued for some long moments as the abbot brought his arms and palms together above his head. The old man looking suddenly immensely strong, certain & powerful.
The bell stopped ringing. The chanting ceased. The abbot spoke a brief blessing.
"May the All Compassionate Eyes of the Green Tara watch over you on your journey and wherever you may go. By the power of her bright body, by the strength of her shining lips, by the beauty of her clear blue eyes. All will be well & all manner of things will be well. Blessed be my brothers & sisters. Blessed be".
From the folds of his robes he took a small bell, held it in his right hand and rang it twice. A clear high note that sounded through the courtyard and out into the snow covered mountains. He stood for a moment his eyes scanning all those before him, resting momentarily on each one of them. A gentle smile shaping his lips. Then he turned and walked back into the monastery.
In silence those who were not leaving embraced all those who were. Moments of warmth, optimism and friendship that flowed between them. Tinged with uncertainty, tears & the fear of what might happen over the coming days, weeks & months. The scene outlined by the rising sun mixed with the smoke and flames of the still burning bonfire.
Trungpa & Akong took their place at the front of the small convoy. Together they stood for a moment to face the rising sun as her orange orb appeared above the east wing of the monastery. They pressed their palms together, raised their hands to their hearts and bowed, a moment of farewell to the place where many of them had been born. It was time to go. Then they turned their backs on the monastery and walked out by the west gate along the bridge that spanned the frozen river many feet below.
And if anyone had been watching they might also have noticed the white & spotted form of a large graceful snow leopard bounding across the frozen landscape following the travellers as they began their long, difficult and dangerous journey towards the Indian foothills of the Himalayas and the refuge of the monastery at Dharamasala."
Pan from close up of snow leopard running through snow to long shot of monks, women & children silhouetted against mountain peaks.
Zoom into snow & fade to white.
Dorothy closed the book. Finished her food & shut her eyes. Her mind and body filled with the images of Rosa's story as the train drew nearer to London.
*Tibetan Pigs, from the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, are especially adapted to the high, cold climate and to being on pasture all year round. Tibetan Pigs are not very heavy (about 35 kg in mature animals.). They are known to be very alert -often running and jumping, with quick responses for guarding against attack from other animals.They have a narrow head and a long straight snout, to facilitate searching for feeds under the ground. They have a black hair coat, with long and dense bristles which protect then from the strong solar radiation of ultra-violet rays and also from the cold weather on the plateau.
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