Down on the square there was a ripple of activity at the base of the stupa. One of the Khampas was clambering up its steps. The other was hurrying towards the market stalls. Dry mouthed, I rose from my chair. I stared as the first Khampa raised his hand to shield his eyes, scanning the area from side to side. His partner was shouting out and gesticulating wildly as he tramped towards the market stalls.

Heart thumping in my chest, there was a terrifying inevitability about what happened next. As his gaze swept across the square, the first Khampa saw the scooter parked on its own. He turned to a gang of street kids who were lounging about on the stupa steps. Bending, it looked like he was trying to engage them in conversation.

The kids were indifferent, continuing to lean against the stupa and talk among themselves, barely paying attention to the man even though he was a giant in their midst.

From his pockets he produced a handful of coins. Suddenly the dynamics changed. There was jostling for attention and outstretched palms. Jumping up and down and piping voices so loud I could hear them from where I was sitting. No sooner had he handed over money to a few of the more insistent children than small arms were pointing towards the Viennese Cake Box. My arrival in the square had not gone unnoticed. Even from behind the window, and above the surge of Strauss, I could hear the roar as he summoned his partner while hurrying directly towards the restaurant.

I had no time to return downstairs. There was no escaping from this level. All other options closed, I pushed my chair back into the table so that it matched all the other empty tables. I stepped behind one of the heavy curtains. As I did, I exchanged a glance with one of the monks. Wizened and watchful, he was looking directly at me as I slipped from view.

Chapter Six

I was alarmed by how quickly my plans had unraveled. Was I only compounding my foolishness by trying to hide? How would the monks react? I could only hope for their good intentions.

One of the well-known parables of the Buddha tells how, if you saw a deer racing through the forest, pursued a short while later by hunters, if the hunters asked in which direction it was headed, for the sake of saving the deer’s life you were obliged not to reveal it. It was one of the few occasions in which not telling the truth was acceptable conduct, thus recognizing the moral complexity of general directives such as never to tell a lie. Would the monks remember the story too?

Loud footfall soon sounded from the staircase. It seemed that both Khampas were coming upstairs. The voices grew louder and more distinct. One of them had stepped inside the room. He was barking questions in guttural Tibetan. Furious and out of breath, I could almost feel his presence from behind the curtain.