Dear Reader,

The traffic ahead of us has stopped. It’s been two hours since we left Manali, on our way to Dharamsala, but now we can go no further. Blocking the narrow mountain road ahead of us is a truck, its wheels jammed tight in sticky wet mud.

Drivers from the cars and buses around us mill around in groups outside their vehicles. It looks like we are in for a long wait. Never mind, I tell my city self - we are on a pilgrimage to meet the Dalai Lama on his 90th birthday- surely the first lesson is patience.

Then slowly, a giant JCB earthmover lumbers in. Ripples of excitement spread through the crowd. Before our incredulous eyes, a hook is attached to the truck, the goods carrier is lifted magically as if it were a small toy truck and set gently down upon the surface of the mud. And so our journey continues.

Driving on, I wonder. Is it sinful to be worshipful of this man-made machine? To be in a car at all ? There are no easy answers.

Pilgrimages draw together strange combinations of people, and ours is one such. A poet and illustrator, her 11-year-old daughter, a wandering musician, and me - your columnist. The 11-year-old turns out to be a prodigy, spinning fantastically inventive tales. “It’s her father’s family tradition,” says her mother. "The families in Zanskar have been snowed up for most of the year, they spent hours telling stories to each other, that used to be their only entertainment.”

The musician tells us a book brought him here. Leaving his home in Kolkata, he found himself picking up........

© hindustantimes