Summer break this year was perhaps the best one I've ever spent. We got a perfect house on rent, right in front of the beach. It was far better than the shabby little house we took last year, some 4 miles off the coast. Me and my other friends spent a terrific time. Even the part time job we got, in a nearby store proved extremely fruitful. Not because the money was good or anything of the sort, but there in that store, i met the perfect kind of girl I always waited for. She was not beautiful and yet some may say she was adorable, she was not hot and still extremely desirable. One thing that sure was obvious was her confidence and her certain way with words. This was the X-factor for me, to get attracted to her. We came across each other at the store, where she as also working. Her name was Sophie, and as I came to know she was studying Asian history and culture at school. We became quite close as days passed and I came to know that my being Asian was the first thing that attracted her. When she came to know that I was a Tibetan, she started to show far more interest. She would fire me with hundreds of questions on every date. Who was Songtsen Gampo? Do monks in Tibet fly? Etc. I would always try to answer her, but somehow it never seemed sufficient. I hardly knew much about my own country, being born and brought up here, the native history was more familiar to me than Tibetan history. This never used to bother me much, but somehow this time; it was bothering me in a weird kind of way. Then one day, while on a drive downtown for a movie, she asked me this question.” Do you know about the Khampas of Tibet?” Wheeewwww!!!!! Now this was something I knew, in fact it was the only subject I had some knowledge, so as to say.

I remembered my grandfather telling me stories about Khampas when I was quite young and much more at home then I happen to these days. He would tell me stories of wars, duals, ambushes and how brave khambas were. Once in a while, he would dress me in a traditional khampa dress, he especially made for me, and he would then give me a wooden sword. He was good at woodwork and he had in fact made me a traditional Tibetan style Cross bow. We would play in the backyard with other kids. I remember him telling me that, he is a Khamba too and used to be a warrior from a kingdom in Tibet called “Nangchen”. As days passed and I grew older, I started to spend less and less time with grandpa. My father hardly ever mentioned anything about Khampas or Tibet ; he was busy earning money for the family. My mother is a Tibetan, but born out here and like many and hardly any knowledge about Tibet . So, my grandfather was the only source of any information about Tibet and our roots. i had not visited my grandfather for a long time. Today was the chance to make up with him. The inspiration was obviously selfish and yet I thought it would meet some ends after all. So, I replied to Sophie after this long pause, “Sure, I do and in fact I am a Khampa, at least genetically”. She burst into laughter. I told her that my grandfather is a khampa and used to be a warrior and that if she wishes we could meet him rather then going for a movie. She was extremely delighted and I was happy to know that I could help as well as make up for the time I hardly spent with grandpa. We drove back from the next signal and were on our way towards grandpa's house.

My grandfather was a character in himself. He had migrated to states during the 60's. Earning his way up, first as a waiter and later starting a Tibetan restaurant; he was a very hard working man. Of all these years, I've never heard him or any of the family members mention anything about my grandmother. While I was young, I used to ask him about my grandmother but he would always evade the subject. Even my father didn't mention anything about her. So as I grew, I assumed that she probably was left in Tibet or died there. My grandfather is a loner in a way. He lives alone and has hardly made any close friends since he came here. He goes fishing alone, cooks himself and most of the times read the Tibetan journals and newspapers, ever since he retired from the restaurant business. Physically he is a well built and sturdy man. He has a confident gait and a hoarse voice. He is 75 years old now but seeing him one might assume he is still in his 60s. There was never a time when I heard that grandpa was sick. As we drove towards his house, I was feeling excited as well as nervous to meet him. It's been a long time. I wondered whether he will still welcome me with a strong hug and a touch of the foreheads.

We were now in the driveway in front of his house. It was just a typical suburban house. One would never have guessed that a Tibetan warrior lives here. There was this lawn in the front, a garage at the side and a small backyard, a treasure house of my memories with grandfather. He had seen us coming through the driveway and was at the door when we were coming.

“Well this is one unexpected surprise you bring me Rinchen.” There was always this humorous sarcasm in the way my grandfather conveyed his thoughts across. Here, on the one hand he was happy that I came to visit him and on the other he was surprised that it took so long. He shook my hands and then hugged me and touched my forehead with his. This as my grandfather once told me, is a way to greet and show affection in Tibet .

He then saw Sophie and couldn't help complimenting her. “Now who is this beautiful little girl?” Sophie was embarrassed, with that same coyness and timidity; she greeted my grandfather, which she showed when I first asked her out. I introduced her as my friend and someone who is very much interested to learn about Tibet and particularly the Khampas. My grandfather nodded in reply and took us into the house.

The house from within was not uncommon, the same modern furniture, TV, stereo etc. There were no guns decorated on the walls, no pictures of Tibet , nothing of the sort that would tell that this man was once a warrior in Tibet . Sophie was obviously taken aback; it seemed that she had already pictured my grandfather's house to be some thing of a novelty. But that sure didn't happen. We were seated in the living room, where there was just the Tibetan altar with pictures of the Dalai Lama and many other deities. This was the only thing, which was visibly Tibetan, other than that, you would feel you were in any other American house. My grandfather brought us some soft drinks and some home made Tibetan cakes.

“I think your friend is surprised Rinchen,” he noticed Sophie looking around the living room and her face conveying the disappointing expression. Her face always reflected her thoughts, a dangerous quality to possess in these days of deceit and guise. This was another innocent quality of her, which attracted me towards her. A natural person, with an honest heart reflected on her face.

”Yes,” she said. “I expected this house to be completely different than what I have seen all these years.”

My grandfather was not surprised, he said, “Of course, they are, it's just my house that doesn't have much of the memories of the past which otherwise would be in most of the Tibetan houses. In fact, I try my best not to keep things which will remind me of my country and of the past life I spent there.”

Sophie was still more surprised and curious. She asked, “Could you tell us why? I was here with Rinchen to know more about the Khampas and the warriors, he told me that you are a khampa and used to be a warrior. Will you tell us all about it?”

My grandfather was silent for a while, and then with a deep sigh he said, “I think Rinchen, the time has come when I tell you about your grandmother and the past life I have so long kept hidden from you and your father”.

It was this small village called, “Dzongyul” meaning” the land of valleys”. This was not far from “ Nangchen Gar”, the capital of the kingdom of Nangchen . Though called a village, it was far more different than one. Six families of nomadic Khampas inhabited “Dzongyul”; here a family meant almost a hundred people. The families were all scattered in hills, plains and mountains within the region of “Dzongyul”. Though officially the place came under the jurisdiction of the king of Nangchen, but ever since the Chinese took over Nangchen gar, the capital of the kingdom of Nangchen , it was more or less independent. But the Chinese never used to venture in the realms of “Dzongyul” after one or two futile efforts. Perhaps it was the last stronghold in the Kham region of Tibet . Many other Khampa families took shelter here in hopes of security. Chinese efforst to aek hold of the region met with fierce resistance, and with winter on its way, they were more or less helpless and returned to their garrison in “Nangchen gar”. It was in the winter of 1955, that the heads of the six families met for a meeting to consider recent developments.

The meeting took place at a secret venue, where all the heads of the six families were present. I was in the meeting with my father, who headed one of the families south of “Dzongyul”. All knew the gravity of the situation. They realized that we won't be able to stand much longer in front of the overwhelming Chinese presence and military might. So, far the weather and military supply previously stolen was helping. But to fall back, would be betraying one's own land and it was against the morals of khampas. There was some information regarding a military convoy passing south of “Dzongyul” towards ‘Nangchen gar”, carrying ammunition and food reinforcements. Here was our chance to re-nourish our arms supply and strengthen our hold on the land, at least for some more time. The convoy was to pass south of “Dzongyul” so the responsibility to get the job done was given to my father who was the head of the southern region.

We returned back to our place and my father started to plan the mission with other fellow Khampas. I was twenty years old then, and it seemed right for me to be a part of this manly venture. At first my father refused, but later he gave up to my enthusiasm and agreed to take me along.

As per the information we had, the Chinese convoy was to pass a small river. The river had a forest on the other side in the direction of “Nangchen Gar” and two hills making a narrow pass on the other side. Our only chance to ambush the convoy was at this pass because on the other side of the river, it was easier for the Chinese to come to reinforce the convoy, while the only way to help the advancing convoy on this side was to cross a bridge. We decided to break that bridge manually so that the Chinese won't have any idea about our plan. Now to send any kind of aid, the Chinese would have to take a longer detour upstream, where the water becomes shallower. So, with the bridge down, we would be having plenty of time to ambush the convoy and take the ammunition. With this plan, we decided to go forward early this night and be ready for the convoy expected to arrive at the pass around daybreak. A group of khampas was sent to the bridge to break it down, while we readied ourselves for the encounter with the convoy.

My mother gave me her ring as a sign of good luck and my father gave one of his swords to me. With a cross bow at back and my sword in sheath, I took up the stirrups and galloped away with my brothers towards the mission that awaited us. We reached the pass around midnight and got scattered as planned previously. Now, it was the time to wait for the convoy. We had two sharpshooters on the cliffs of the hills to bring down the vehicles. Others among us were waiting to charge downhill when the convoy comes to a halt.

After about three hours of waiting in the chilly winter night, we saw the convoy slowly coming towards the pass. It was snowing at that hour; there was still some time for dawn to hit the scene. We could make out the approaching vehicles only through their headlights; they were still some distance away. My father signaled other fellow men and prepared for the ambush. It was just about dawn, when the convoy emerged from the turn some 500 yards away from where we were waiting. Just at that time, my father raised his sword and the sharpshooters started to take down the vehicles. Tibetans in those days used old Russian Rifles, poor in precision, but mighty in strength. There were four trucks and one small military jeep. As soon as the Chinese heard the gunshots, they took out their machine guns right from the top of the trucks and started firing. Two drivers of the vehicles were already down and meanwhile, the group of Khampas assigned to close in from the back of the convoy had already charged. We were showering the trucks with arrows, the other two drivers also came down and a few other soldiers. Our group also charged downhill right in front of the convoy. All the trucks were still and a few Chinese soldiers were firing desperately. But, the mini military jeep, just rushed passed us and was hurrying its way through the dangerous cavernous pass, with full speed. My father signaled me to follow it.

I took my reins and galloped behind the escaping jeep. The jeep was skidding and breaking and then speeding its way out of the pass. I galloped faster, and before I could catch up, the jeep skidded and came to a halt after a strong collision with a boulder, at the corner of the turn. I slowed down and slowly approached the jeep. There was no sign of motion and I could make out the driver with his head on the steering. As I came nearer, I saw the person on the wheels moving. I quickly took out my bow and aimed, while walking towards the vehicle. To my surprise, it was a woman in the jeep. I kept back my bow and walked towards the vehicle. She saw me coming and was terrified to death. She started screaming and tried vainly to open the door of the jeep before I reached her, but she failed. I was now in front of her, I could see a Chinese soldier dead, just in the front seat beside her. She was all dressed in a beautiful Chinese dress, embossed with big flower prints and her hair was tied at the back in a knot with a long wooden hair pin. Her face grew pale, as I was standing right in front of her. Suddenly she fell unconscious and fell back. I took her out of the jeep, kept her on the ground. She was still breathing; she fell out possibly because I terrified her. I was now wondering what to do; it was not a Khampas principle to kill a woman or to leave her all alone in the wilderness. Taking her back to the camp would mean unnecessary trouble. Chinese will definitely take it in a wrong light. So, the only possible solution was to leave her as near as possible to the Chinese garrison in “Nangchen gar” and yet this meant extreme risk upon my own part. There was no time to loose; the girl might die of the cold also.

There was one nunnery right across the river, near the forest to “Nangchen gar”, it would probably be best to leave her their in the care of the Nuns, and it would be easier for her to reach the Chinese garrison also. So I decided to take her there and leave her in the hands of the holy nuns in the monastery.

I took her on my horse and started to go towards the Monastery. It was almost day break when I reached the river and almost afternoon when I finally arrived near the monastery. She was still unconscious. I kept her in care of the head Nun of the monastery and asked her to accompany her back to the Chinese garrison after she recuperates.

Meanwhile, the news of the attack on the convoy had already reached the garrison. And the Chinese general had already sent a unit of troops to hunt down the khampas. It so happened that the Chinese girl in the jeep was the daughter of the general stationed in “Nangchen gar”, he was furious and worried, as any father would be about his daughter.

I returned back to my campsite, where everyone was worried about me. They asked me about the jeep and I told them that it escaped. As I came back home, there was this strange feeling taking shape in my heart. I started to get worried about that Chinese girl. Her efforts to run away from me, her innocent cries for help and the beautiful face which went pale after seeing me, reminded me a lot about her. What I didn't realize at that time, was the fact that a new story was going to be enacted soon, and I would be an essential character in it along with the Chinese girl.

The news of the attack on the Chinese convoy had reached the general at “Nangchen Gar". Fruitlessly he sent a rescue unit to find out his daughter. He was afraid that his daughter might have died in the confrontation with the “Khampas". He was furious on the one side and immensely heart broken by the absence of his daughter. It gave him some relief when the rescue unit returned without being able to find his daughter either dead or alive. This in some way gave him hope that possibly she might be alive and safe. Nevertheless, he had suspicions of her bring abducted by the Tibetans. He organized a full-scale attack on the Khampas. One can imagine what an angry general and a desperate father can do, when it comes to finding one's daughter.
Meanwhile, the daughter of the general had recovered from her experience of the attack by the khampas. The nuns had taken good care of her. The head nun who knew to speak Chinese told her about me and how I brought her to safety amid the danger of being caught or killed. Her memories of me as a cruel, coarse Khampa slowly started to transform into that of a caring and compassionate human being. In her hearts of hearts, somehow she had started to admire me. How this admiration turns in love, only time was going to tell.

I was sitting near the fire; it was a very dark chilly night. We had news of Chinese military raids upon the camps of many of our fellow brothers. It seemed that only our family south of “Dzongyul" had so far managed to escape Chinese offensive. Just like many other nights, we had sent a few look outs to warn us of any incoming danger. The fire was lit inside a cave and we took all precautions to make sure that no one else could see it from a distance. It had been two weeks since the encounter at the valley and since then, our family had been shifting from place to place. We sought shelter in forest, caves and through a vast expense of ravines north of nangchen gar. There were talks about leaving the place and getting scattered to avoid being caught. But my father insisted on staying together and facing whatever comes with courage. He said," It was our land and our home, why we let some outsiders to thwart us away from our own homes. Either we die here and die fighting, there was no other option." All these thoughts were crossing my mind and then suddenly, I started thinking about that Chinese girl. Her beautiful face was haunting me, ever since the day I first saw her. I wanted to meet her, to see her and to find out whether she was still in the monastery and whether I could meet her one last time. I wanted to tell her that, I am not a barbarian and neither a savage killer but a freedom fighter. The desire to meet her was getting stronger and stronger.

Just when I was thinking all this, I heard a loud gunshot just outside the cave. Just when I came out, there was another shot and then another, followed by many more. It amazed me to see that the whole sky was bright; it was just as if there was bright sunlight right in the middle of the night. I was so surprised by this thing, which I was witnessing, and so were all of my fellow brothers. This unusual thing I saw that time now I know were flares, used commonly by the military of the modern world. If I look back now, sometimes I think, the isolation Tibet had been proud of was perhaps the main reason for our present plight. Anyhow, so as we were being astonished by this event, I realized that we were all surrounded by Chinese troops. They started firing indiscriminately, nobody was prepared, and everyone started to run here and there. Many just fell down each time their machine guns smoked fire. There was misery all around, everyone was crying for help, begging for mercy. I too tried to run away and see where my family was, but a bullet hit me right across my right leg and i fell down. I could only see men and women being hit by bullets from all directions, as if some invisible people were making us their practice targets. My eyes closed and I lost my consciousness.

I didn’t know how long it was before I regained my consciousness; I opened my eyes and found myself in a small wooden hut. It was quite small, I looked around myself, and there was one window on the other side through which some light was coming. I tried to get up, but soon realised that my legs were tied with rope. The wound by the bullet was still open, it seemed that the bullet had just scratched through my legs and never actually entered my body. The wound still looked fresh; this meant I was not being here for so long. My hands were tied to a pole in the middle of the room, with my back at the pillar. Just then, the front door opened and streams of sunlight blinded me momentarily. When I was able to see clearly, I saw a huge Chinese man dressed in military uniform. He was sitting on a wooden chair just in front of me. There were two other soldiers standing on each side of the man. It didn’t take much time to realise that the Chinese caught me and I was in the garrison at “Nangchen gar". This man who commanded respect from the soldiers was for sure the general in charge of the Chinese operation in that area. He looked at me, and then he asked a soldier to ask me if I need some water. The soldier spoke with me in Tibetan, I nodded in agreement. He brought me a mug of water; I was thirsty like hell and drank it in seconds. “Do u want more?” the soldier asked me. I replied, “NO”. Then the soldier came near me and asked me in Tibetan, “where is general's daughter?” I realised that the daughter was still not back with her father. This could only mean one thing that she probably didn’t recover from the illness. My heart was broken and for a moment I was lost in silence. “Where is the general's daughter"? The soldier asked me again, this time holding me by collar. If I told him about how I rescued her to safety and how I left her at the monastery, they would probably not believe me, and even if I tell so and if she is already dead, then I would be in big trouble. There were still many questions to be answered; I didn’t know what happened to my family, how many were caught and how many were alive. The situation gave me some power and I was going to use it to the full. Right at that moment, another soldier came and said something to the general. The General looked amazed; suddenly he got up from his chair and went towards the door. Through that door, I saw something I would have willingly died to see. It was the Chinese girl, she was alive and she was back to her home. A strange sense of jubilations swept my mind and for a moment I forgot about the mess I was in. Before the general could go out, she was already in and embracing her father and crying like a child. To see this scene brought me a strange sort of comfort.

She was speaking in Chinese with her father accompanied by the intervening sobs. At that moment, she saw me, in the room. The _expression on her face changed, she stopped crying, and to my surprise, she was smiling at me. I had expected her to point at me, get angry with me but this new development was a surprise. She spoke with her father he looked surprised when she probably told her that I saved her and left her at the monastery. But soon, her father was a general rather than an emotional father. He shouted at her and asked the soldier to take her to the house. He turned back at me, had a silence look at me and then went off outside. The guards left the room and closed it behind them. I was still tired, hungry and thirsty. There was no sign that I was going to get any kind of leniency. At around evening, the door opened and, to my surprise I saw the Chinese girl entering inside the cottage. She came near me; there was a guard beside her. She had brought food and water for me and had convinced the guard to let her feed me. He unwillingly, untied my hands and was standing just beside both of us. The General’s daughter gave a sarcastic look, he was uncomfortable, and after all she was General’s daughter. He left the room, locking it after him. She then gave me some water and food to eat. I stormed at the food like a hungry savage, then realised the presence of a lady which demanded some decent behavior. She was smiling all the way, while I gorged at the food in as decent manner as possibly could be displayed by a hungry prisoner. After some time when I finished eating, she left the room. This continued for weeks, it was strange that the Chinese didn’t kill me but won’t let me go either. She will keep coming, feeding me, teaching me some Chinese words and trying to create a conversation. Somehow, we had started to understand each other. Then one day, she came hurrying past the door and had a small paper in her hand. She showed it to me, and it looked more or less like a map of the garrison than anything else. She then explained me the map, in my effort to understand her I realised that she was actually trying to explain to me an escape plan. I was astonished at her bravery. She then told me something very disturbing. She explained to me after much difficulty that the General has kept me alive only to serve as bait for the remaining Khampas, he wanted to catch and kill them all using me. And that was the only reason I was kept alive. She didn’t want me to die and therefore had this plan for my escape. The garrison was located on top of a small hill; it was basically a small empty compound with houses surrounding an empty playground like space. There was one gate and some four watch towers. She had made up a complete chart of the timing of patrol across the garrison. The plan was to drug the guard at my door and escape through a narrow opening at a secluded corner of the boundary wall where she had already worked upon an opening. She then told me that, we will have to climb down the steep slope of the hill to reach the nearby river, where she had arranged a boat with the help of the head nun of the monastery. It seemed that she had pretty much everything sorted out. And the amazing thing to notice was her desire to accompany me till the river to see that I escape unscathed, while she acts as a hostage. I can’t say it was love or compassion or pity, but one thing was clear now, that she truly cared about me. The plan was to be carried out the next day night at around eleven o clock. I had left nothing to do, except follow all the instructions she had given me. I had always heard that Chinese woman is one efficient friend and a deadly foe. This seemed pretty much true, at least half of it.

The day had come for my escape from the garrison. It was late at night, I heard the sounds of the door open and it was her. She quickly came to me and untied my hands and feet. Then we slowly came out of the room, outside the guard was fast asleep on his chair. She had done her job cleanly. We than crisscrossed our way across the empty space in the middle, amid the dazzling light of the search lights. Finally, we reached the secluded opening in the wall and came out of the Garrison to the open. Still there was no alarm in the garrison. We slowly started the climb down the hill. In this dangerous course of flight, I realised that she was one strong girl. Even physically she was strong enough o climb down the hill with a surety in her each step. She was a prefect match with our sturdy Khampa women. When we were half way down the slope, we heard the alarm at the garrison. There were loud noises from the garrison, gun shots fired in desperation. Suddenly, we were spotted in the search light making our way down the hill. There was firing from the walls of the Garrison. The Chinese girl asked me to hold her by throat and she started shouting to stop firing. The Chinese saw this and were taken aback. For them, I had abducted the General’s daughter and it will be stupid to fire. She kept shouting while we were slowly walking down the slope. We heard the General’s voice on the loudspeakers; he was asking the soldiers to stop where they were and not fire. Finally we reached the boat, I climbed the boat and asked her to go back but, what happened next was surprising. She refused to leave me until I was safe, we could still sense Chinese soldiers following us in dark. She also climbed the boat and then we were on our way downstream. Amid the darkness, we could hear Chinese military vehicles crawling on the road, the other side of the hill. We decided to get down in the middle and walk our way through the forest beside the river. It would be difficult for the Chinese to find us there and we could bid adieu, when she is finally satisfied about my safety. Throughout this adventure, we had developed a strong bond of mutual understanding and concern. Even though she hardly spoke any Tibetan, and yet I can understand most of what she spoke to me.

We had now entered the forest and it was around two in the morning. The clouds in the sky had cleared up; it was a full moon night. We were walking in the forest, amid the fear of being caught and also with the reassurance of being in each other’s company. There was the possibility of being caught in the forest, especially on a moonlit night. Just at that moment, we heard sounds of people wading through the shrubs of the forest. We were being hunted. Both of us ran in the direction leading us towards the denser regions of the forest. After running for some time, it so happened that we slipped and fell into what seemed like an unusual opening for an underground cave. We were falling headlong down the slippery slope; it seemed like an unending water sledge in fun parks of today. Finally we fell out of the tunnel right into a small pond. It was not actually a pond but a small water filled area from the waterfall atop us. I remembered having come here several times, yes it was the same waterfall, and I realized that we were near our people. A sense of relief came over me. I looked behind me and saw her standing in water, shivering with cold. Her whole body was drenched, her hair was wet and the water was dripping down her face in tiny droplets. She was looking beautiful, for a moment I was left dumbstruck with this view. Being myself back again, I carried her in my arms out of the water and laid her down in a small cave like opening, I knew this place and it was probably the safest, the only way to reach here was to come upstream from way down miles and miles and the other was from the tunnel we slipped through. Seeing her quivering with cold, I decided to find out some firewood and make her warmer. There was a danger that she might get sick again.

             I collected some firewood and made a small fire inside the cave. It was still night, probably a few hours to dawn. In that blazing fire, I could see her lovely face. She looked back at me and smiled, god knows how much I still crave for that smile. She had faced all this with me and was still smiling. At that moment, I knew that we were in love. She told me that she was thirsty; I went to get some drinking water and brought some in cup shaped leaves. Our hands touched each other while I gave her the water. She looked into my eyes, I looked back. There was magic in those eyes and magic more so in the circumstances we were in. Wet bodies, moonlit night and the magical fire in front were making it a lot difficult to hold back out deepest desires. We came closer and closer, our lips met, she quivered with my touch and then, we became one.

It was daybreak when I opened my eyes; sunlight was beaming in the cave through small openings in the sidewalls. Fang yin was still asleep, her head was on my chest and the smell of her hair was intoxicating. It’s funny and quite strange that I came to know her name only last night. She told me it was “Fang Yin”, meaning breathe of flowers. Her name perfectly suited her. While I was musing on all this, I heard a light rustling sound outside the cave. Somebody was walking outside the cave, and as the noise grew louder, it was clear that the stranger’s footsteps were in this direction, towards the cave. I got up fast; “Fang Yin” too was awakened. She looked at me with a questioning glance. I signed her to be silent. I took out my sword and hid myself right behind the large boulder, just near the front of the cave. As the noise grew louder and the stranger reached near the opening of the cave, I leapt forward and jumped at the man.

“Stop, hold on man, its Samphel.” Samphel was surprised by my sudden appearance at the scene from behind the boulder. He fell back wards. Samphel was a good friend, a fellow khampa and from my own camp.  I was relieved to see him.

We all went inside the cave and Samphel told me about the current turn of events at the camp. It seemed that the news of my flight had already reached the camp people and they knew that the Chinese soldiers were chasing me. So they too had sent a group of people to aid me on my way back. What they didn’t know was that, Fang yin had helped me to escape. Samphel was a bit surprised to find a Chinese girl with me in the cave. H e was skeptical when I told him how she helped me escape from the garrison and how we are in love now. He told me that the Chinese military is still on the search for me, probably because of the daughter of the General I have along with me. Samphel advised that Fang yin must return back, otherwise Tibetan Khampa camps won’t be able to sustain the continuing attacks from the Chinese military.

Fang Yin and I knew that this day was to come sooner or later. She had to return back to her father now. She can’t possibly spend her life running through forests, having little to eat and more so, the fear of being killed by the Chinese bullets. She still insisted on accompanying me. Offering herself as a hostage, in case the Chinese capture me again. But this was unacceptable. She had already risked herself for saving me, I couldn’t accept more. Yet how can we go separate ways, when our hearts were still for each other? But I had to let her go; I can't drag her to a life, which was full of uncertainty. Not that I doubted her devotion and strength, but I can't bear the very idea of taking her through a path of hardships and turmoil. It was then that I took the hardest decision of my life. I had to let her go, but I promised her that we will meet soon again when things get better. I told her that I would be in touch through the head nun of the monastery who had helped us on many other occasions. We dropped Fang Yin on the route to the same monastery, where she healed previously and then started on our way back.

The days henceforth were not easy. Though the Chinese attacks lessened in intensity, still the devastation they had caused had long left our people in fear and anguish. We had many small encounters with the Chinese troops, in which I had lost many friends. I was also in constant touch with Fang Yin, and sent her letters and gifts in the hands of the head nun of the monastery. The General was comfortable with the visit of the head nun; he knew that it was she who nursed his daughter in time of great need. So my correspondence with Fang Yin was smooth and without any hassles.

Then one day, I received another letter from Fang Yin forwarded by the head nun, who used to translate and drop it near a tree some half miles from the monastery from where I used to pick it up. This letter was perhaps the main factor in changing her destiny and mine. She wrote, “My dear love, Time perhaps is not proper for what I am going to tell you now. And yet I am left with no choice but to inform you of this sudden news I came across myself with surprise. This revelation for sure, will change the destiny we so far thought would encounter us. On the one hand, it gives me immense happiness to let you know that I am bearing your child. On the other, it grieves me to think about the perilous time your child is going to come into." This was news indeed, and my heart filled with a strange and inexplicable plethora of happiness. Never have I known the happiness of being a father, and yet somehow it seemed that I was quite ready for this responsibility, at least in my heart. But then, shadow came over my mind, when I thought about the present plight I was living in. Could I leave my child in that general's house, where a father's love would always forsake him? Or should I rescue him from that fatherless life and inherit him this life of uncertainty and hardships? The decision was difficult. Fang Yin wanted to run away with me and follow me wherever I go and to spend the rest of her life with me. She was almost two months pregnant and had asked me to take her with me before its too late and her father comes to know of it. There I was left thinking about this predicament, and yet I finally decided that a blood of ones own should live with oneself, either in happiness or in pain. I finally told my parents about this news and my being in love with Fang Yin.

Times were difficult during those days. The continued efforts of The Dalai Lama were failing to stop Chinese from their continuous attacks and annexation of our land. A plea of help to Nehru and the UN met with skepticism about Chinese designs on Tibet. And so drew near the beginning of a complete new history for our people. By now it was getting clear that the Chinese wanted the dominion of Tibet, nothing less than that will satisfy them. Thus, the plans for the flight of The Dalai Lama to India were taking shape in the Potala.
Meanwhile, it was now imperative that I bring Fang Yin with me to a safer place for not only I loved her more than anything but she bore my child, the future of my blood. It was rumoured that The Dalai Lama will be seeking asylum in India and that many Tibetans will also follow him. Thus, I devised a plan for her rescue from the military garrison at “Nangchen Gar" and also started preparing for our journey to India. Fang Yin was determined to leave behind her past life and move ahead with me, no matter how many hardships lay in front.

So it was planned that I would meet her at the same river from where we had escaped previously when I escaped from the prison. It was decided that we would meet there at nightfall and then take a boat downstream. And later begin our perilous journey towards India through those walls of mountains, we know as Himalayas. Thus, was decided the plan for our escape.

The escape of Fang Yin from “Nangchen gar” went on smooth and we once again met in the same wilderness which had united us in the beginning. But now, the journey was long and much more arduous than what we had faced earlier. We were being hunted by the entire Chinese army present in Tibet during those times. Evading military search was one thing, but the geographical restrains were enormous. Crossing the plains of “Jhangthang” from Kham and then finding our way through the killer precipices of the Himalayas was a serious and dangerous task. Besides Fang Yin’s ability to endure all this while being pregnant had also to be considered. Our journey was slow in the beginning. It took us almost two months to even reach the path on the eastern side of the Himalayas which we were supposed to take for our journey to India through Nepal. Now Fang Yin was almost seven months pregnant and her pain was becoming more and more prominent each day. We had by now reached the eastern edges of the Himalayas and quite near to the passage to Nepal. Her situation was critical; it seemed that she might deliver the baby quite early. We decided to take rest in a village, but she insisted on moving on. She feared that the news of our stay will pass on, and the nearby Chinese military will be after us. So we kept moving, as fast as possible towards the passage.

We had now reached the gateway of a harder journey; the eastern flanks of the Himalayas. Now Fang Yin’s pain was unbearable and I insisted that we make a camp here and settle down for sometime before we start again. Then late at that night, her labor pains had reached their extreme and I knew that it was not long before we will see our first child. A child for whose freedom we were taking this journey.

Fang Yin gave birth to your father that day and no sooner she saw his face, her exhaustion left her and she had a serene expression of relief and peace. She closed her eyes, as if she was going for a long sleep, which will last forever. Fang Yin died that night, it grieved me beyond all boundaries of human suffering, for my soul was hurt. And yet, seeing the beautiful child in my hand somehow took away all that grief and gave me a sense of purpose. I vowed that I will let our child grow in a free country and not let myself to the Chinese. Later that morning, I cremated Fang Yin, took her ashes and spread them in the thin breeze that was flowing that time.
Time was less and the journey still far from over. The Chinese military presence was still looming large nearby, I had to hide here and there and disguise as a beggar to get food from the nearby village. Leaving without preparation on this journey of crossing the Himalayas was a stupid thing to do. Many young people from my place had perished on their way towards the perilous paths, while trying to reach India. My idea was to save enough food, warm clothes and some money. Whatever we had till now was already over while we had been chased by the Chinese since we escaped from “Nangchen Gar”. Somehow I managed to gather enough resources in a period to two weeks; the little child was always with me. Sometimes I kept your father in the nearby village at some generous lady’s house. They were always delighted to see the baby. I always saw Fang yin in your father’s face. Then the day came when I had to start off towards India, I took your father wrapped in warm clothes and tied him at my back.

Right in front of me were the majestic mountain ranges of the Himalayas and the gateway to a path full of peril and unknown dangers. Perhaps the reward of reaching a free land and keeping alive my blood was motivating me to an overcome my fears. I took a deep breath and thus begun my journey towards those unknown horizons.

For two weeks I had been crisscrossing on the way told to me by people who had journeyed through this way before. Eating whatever little I had and trying my best to save a few months old child from the marauding cold in those mountains. Despite all my efforts I could not save myself from being frost bitten. My left foot was already under severe pain and to walk any further than I had already come was impossible. It was by luck that I met mountaineering group passing by. Seeing me in such a plight, they took pity and took care of me. New shoes, new coat and my supplies of eatables being renewed with my foot taken care off by the group doctor, I was ready to be on my tracks again. I bid the group goodbye for they were leaving for the opposite direction.

Days and night I walked alone with my baby, sleeping in caves, and burning wood for warmth. To see that little child’s face in every moment of pain, would cheer me up and invigorate me with a sense of new found energy to go ahead for the rest of journey.
It was on 15th June 1959, that I reached Nepal. Working in those hilly villages and earning enough to reach Kathmandu for a better prospect, I spent another five months there. Finally, I reached Kathmandu and joined with other Tibetans who had fled from Tibet. There was some help provided to us by the local authorities. Well, after that as your father must have told you, that I worked hard and slowly migrated to the states.

So, that’s the story my dear boy which I had kept hidden from you for so long. For those memories are sad and always remind me of the troubles and hardships I came across. While the memories of Fang Yin haunt me day and night. She was the true love of my life and a committed life partner.

“Wow!!! I truly can’t imagine all this happening in my life. Will you give me the permission to write it for my college journal? Please????” Sophie’s insistence was sincere and meant true respect for the man I had almost forgotten.

“Well, if it interests you that much, I really don’t mind anyone else knowing it, when I have told this story to my grandson.” He chuckled while his eyes were still wet, for the memories of past had been recalled and it was hard for him not to remember Fang Yin, my grandmother.

 This was the story of my grandfather, a true Khampa, a great lover and an enduring father.

Sophie and we went out a lot after that. There was a new bonding between us; perhaps she thought that every Khampa would be like my grandfather. Perhaps, a part of we Khampas reflects a side of romanticism, much to a woman’s liking….Ha Ha Ha……