My Friend from the Other side of the Himalayas.

Tenzin was watching the news on his small TV when Tim and I entered his shop. It was one of those small shops at Glory's Plaza in Shillong that sold rip-offs of branded clothing and shoes at a subsidized price. I was a regular customer of Tenzin so we immediately got into a conversation about how business was going. Tim, on the other hand, looked around for a T-Shirt. We were still in college then and Tim had this habit of buying one tee every month with money he saved from his allowance.

Tenzing and I go back three years. One particular day, two months after we first met, in a conversation that I hadn't intended to bring up, I told him how I was making ends meet by working as a freelance writer after college:

"My friend, I don't think it is right for me to profit from the stuff you buy from me." was his immediate reply. I tried telling him how it was my choice to do this so that I could learn to be financially independent while still in college. However, what I told him made him more emotional than I had anticipated. He sat ruminating in his chair for quite a while before speaking up:

"I've been at that stage in my life my friend and I know how it is like. So, let's make a deal, every time you come here to buy something, I'll treat you to a nice plate of momo (dumplings) and a hot bowl of soup. I know how much a warm plate of food can lift one's spirit."

Since that day onward, we have had this nice pact between us: he was to treat me to a plate of dumplings and a bowl of hot soup every time I made a purchase from his store.

That day too, soon after Tim and I entered his store, he excused himself and went to the nearby Tibetan restaurant to place the order for dumplings and hot soup. Tim was genuinely surprised by the hospitality and kindness of Tenzin. The three of us heartily ate the dumplings and drank it down with the hot soup.

Tim and I stayed a while longer after we had finished the food. We were in college, mass communications students and Tim was quite the conversation starter so he started asking Tenzin about his life. At that point, I realised I knew nothing about Tenzin's early life. Embarrassed but eager to find out more about his life, I also pressed Tenzin to share about his life. He was hesitant at first but finally gave in. Before he started, he ordered three cups of Tibetan Butter Tea. For someone who always drank sweet tea, the salty taste of the butter tea was a bit repelling at first. However, the taste of the tea was soon forgotten as soon as Tenzin started narrating his story that almost seemed too dramatic to be true.

It all started in the year 1980 when he was born in a small town in Tibet. He said he has close to no recollection of his life there in the unrest nation. It was when he turned five that he undertook a life-changing journey with 29 other children like him and 5 adults who led them. Many of them said their last goodbye to their loved and dear ones. It was more of a compulsion rather than a choice he says. To continue to stay in Tibet meant to have no future in academics at all. The journey was about overcoming an obstacle that lay between them and the chance for better education and a brighter future in India. The obstacle was no other than the highest and the most dangerous mountain range of the world; The Himalayas.

He remembers walking through freezing ravines and climbing through the Himalayas for more than fifteen gruelling days. They endured the sun, the cold, the frostbites, and the sinister path that held all the cards of their life. To add to that was the emotional burden of having being separated from their families. At one time, they were caught in a heavy snow storm which they had to wait out for 2 days. The following day, an avalanche nearly swept away his whole group. He doesn’t remember much or simply doesn’t want to remember the severity of the journey. One thing he knows; it was a journey that made him.

After finally crossing the Himalayas, Tenzin and his group made their way to Mussoorie where he was placed in a monastery. There, he completed elementary schooling and high school. Chandigarh came next and he graduated from college there. He then moved to New Delhi where he started working in a BPO firm. However, for a country boy like Tenzin, the city, with all its lights and charms couldn't hold his attention forever; he was soon seeking a life with less noise and more green. That was when he decided to come to Shillong, a place he frequented for vacations when he was still in High school.

It was in 2013 when he finally moved to Shillong and started his small business. Out of curiosity, I asked him if it was his family that helped him start up his business and to my surprise; he replied he started it with the money he saved while he was working in Delhi. Then he made this startling revelation that he hadn’t seen his parents since he left them, 31 years ago.

“We stayed in contact through letters till I was around 12 but the letters always took months to reach and by the time the letter reached us, it would be incomplete; either torn or the inks soaking the letter beyond comprehension.” The people who carried the letters had to walk through the treacherous Himalayas and the ravages of nature did not spare the letters that carried words of love for children who needed it most. Tim and I sat quietly for a while. Tim then asked if he missed his parents and his country. Tenzin simply replied that he was too young when he was in Tibet to have any sweet recollection of his parents or the place he once called home.

“Do you have any plans to visit Tibet and maybe find out where your parents are?” I asked him.

“It’s impossible as of now because they won’t let any Tibetan residing outside Tibet come in.”

“What about your parents? Would you want to meet them if they could come to India?”

“It would make no difference as I have no emotional attachment towards them, I barely remember them.”

He was the fourth child of the seven siblings in his family. Stricken by poverty and hardships in Tibet, it was every parent's dream to send their kids away from the country to India. They had succeeded to make it happen for Tenzin; he had crossed over to the other side and for his parents, all that mattered was for him to have a good life. Tim and I sat there, crushed by the sad reality of Tenzin's life that was being laid bare for us. We both swallowed hard and didn't know what to say. Tenzin got up and quietly folded the T-Shirts from the rack where Tim had carelessly placed back. After a lengthy silence, Tenzin finally spoke,

“My friends. Don't worry too much in life........

You see, I'm happy every day because I know how lucky I am to be alive. There have been a few times when I've seen life flash before me and I thought that was it......

My friends......... Celebrate life because you're alive.”

By the time Tim and I got out of the plaza, it was already dark. We made out way back to Nongrim Hills inside the cramped Maruti 800 taxis without speaking a word.

I left Shillong soon and never saw Tenzin again after that evening. If I think of it now, I truly miss our conversations over hot dumplings in his little shop. I wonder, the next time I am in Shillong, if I will still find him seated in his little shop, watching the news on the TV.