Military Orders by Roth Martin

Author:Roth, Martin [Roth, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Dharamsala, Northern India

Tenzin walked in the driving rain through the Dharamsala throngs. He held aloft his umbrella, though he actually didn’t mind the warm northern Indian monsoonal rains, so unlike the hard, chill weather of Tibet.

He had taken the bus up from his temple in the Kangra Valley. He was tense. The Rinpoche had ordered him to this meeting, and he knew something was afoot, but he did not know what it was.

He wondered if he was to be reprimanded for his attack on the Christian’s brother. He guessed the Rinpoche was angry about that. But then how did the Rinpoche even know about it? And why was he being summoned to an apartment up here in Dharamsala? Who lived there? Who wanted to meet him?

He had been issued with directions and he followed these, pushing his way uphill past lines of stores until he came to a small Chinese restaurant, with a couple of elderly customers inside slurping down noodles. Next to the restaurant, almost hidden by a large billboard, was a narrow set of stairs. Tenzin ascended and found a single door at the top. He knocked, and a voice ordered him in.

Leaving his umbrella outside on the floor he entered and found himself inside a small room, almost bare but for a table and several chairs. Behind these was an alcove with a window that apparently looked out over the street.

The familiar figure of the Rinpoche - a small, squat, elderly man with glasses and a hearing aid - sat at the table, dressed in his maroon robes, along with another man he did not recognize.

“Sit down,” said the Rinpoche as soon as he entered the room. “We need to talk. This is Mr Wang. He has just arrived in Dharamsala.”

Tenzin froze for an instant when he heard the Chinese name. Then he gave him a cursory bow and sat. The man was examining some documents on the table before him and seemed barely to have noticed Tenzin’s arrival. He appeared to be around forty, with a chubby face and a solid build. He was dressed like a golf pro, with cream trousers and a white cotton shirt. His shoulders were broad, his arms impressively muscled.

Tenzin was not so naive as to believe that everything he had been doing had been simply for the cause of pure Buddhism. He knew that the Chinese also despised the late Dalai Lama. He could guess that they would be doing all in their powers to influence the outcome of the search for a successor. But so long as he kept his distance, he was able to believe that his own actions were just for the purpose of protecting the dharma, with no ulterior motive.

He had always assumed the Rinpoche felt the same way. But now he had to ask himself - was the Rinpoche working together with the Chinese? That was a shock.

The Rinpoche spoke. “Mr Wang has come here rather urgently. We have a matter to discuss with you.

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