Trek to Phuktal monastery

The Dalai Lama. Old, wise and serene. That was my single dimensioned image for a monk.

But young, energetic and full of life (even playing pranks)? Was my exhausted mind playing tricks or was it for real?
Should we call them monks, kids or kid monks? Hidden in a cave, the Phuktal monastery, the most remote monastery in Zanskar, left me confused with what I saw and what I had expected.

It was break time for these youngsters. Their energy was un-missable. Replace the maroon robes with clothes meant for “young adults” and they could pass off as school children in a playground. Except that, they WERE in their maroon robes, attended the school in the monastery, studied ancient scriptures and would go on to live their lives devoid of all worldly possessions!

A 250 km gravel road to Kargil as its only connection to the outside world, Zanskar itself is the most remote valley in India. A three hour drive from the headquarters of Zanskar got us to what the maps called, “end of the road”. An 8 hour walk (around 5 hours for the mountain hardened locals) from this point, got us to Phuktal monastery.

At an altitude of over 4000 meters, it was a breathtaking walk. The trail was treacherous (wide enough for just 2 human feet) and the mountain side was all loose soil. From high up there, the Lungnak river below seemed like a slithering silver snake. This was the closest we came to any resemblance to life.

As barren as the landscape was, it didn't fail to leave us awestruck. The winds had withered the mighty mountains to needles. They now resembled gigantic sand dunes. Walking through these wind battered rocks, we could feel ourselves being engulfed by powerful forces of nature.

After such an arduous walk, the sight of the monks (especially the kids) living lives so detached from the rest of the world, was overwhelming. They were the people of the hills. The hills were their homes. They belonged to the hills and the hills belonged to them.

It was lunch time for them and we were welcome to join in. We sat on a terrace overlooking the valley we had just crossed. It was the most stunning lunch-time view I have ever enjoyed. It wouldn't cost us a dime. Just a lifetime of being a monk. However, just for the day, we could savour it.

I'll never forget this day when we made the mountains our own. We embraced their dangerous beauty. We got to imagine a way of life, in sync with these giants, and with our own minds.

Perhaps, this is what a religious experience is all about?