And as I stared, I remembered what Geshe-la had said. Keep it front of mind. When the moment comes, and it could be any moment, the meaning of this message will be unmistakable.

I picked up the object to study it more closely, along with the card that came with it. I’d seen other such items for sale occasionally. But never with the relevance of this one, here and now.

‘How much?’ I asked the trader, a roguish-looking fellow in a red bandanna and protruding teeth.

‘Five hundred rupees,’ he tried bullishly.

‘Two hundred,’ I replied.

‘Four hundred.’

I put it back on the table and made to walk away.

‘Alright, sir! For you, special deal. Special, special! Three hundred.’

I handed over the cash and, a short while later, slipped the item into my pocket.

•••

Within half an hour, I was on a bus to Patna, driving towards the border to India. It was going to be a long journey—we’d only get to Patna the following morning, and that was only the first stage of the trip I had in mind. I would be travelling far away from where the Sangye Menla statue was being held at the airport. But, I decided, staying in Kathmandu wasn’t an option. I didn’t know what kind of game Dalberg was playing, but the pursuit by the Khampas in his car left me in no doubt how dangerous it was for me to be anywhere within his network of influence. A network that probably stretched throughout India too. I needed to go somewhere I couldn’t be found. My pursuers would stop at nothing to possess the terma.

•••

Which was why my long bus journey to Patna was followed by a short ride to Patna airport. I sent a text message to Abbot Lhamo, updating him on what had happened, and asking for further instructions—a message which, because there was no phone reception at Tiger’s Nest, would be received by the abbot’s sister in Paro and sent as a written message with Sangey, next time he came down the mountain.

•••

As the airplane door was closed with a thud, I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes. The past two days had been a challenge after being in solitary retreat for months, and I felt a powerful tug to return to the state of consciousness with which I had increasingly identified during my meditation journey at Tiger’s Nest. One that wasn’t about Matt Lester, but which was learning to let go of such a restricted view. One that was clear and boundless and, more than anything, deeply peaceful.

Taking a few deep and silent breaths, I let go, allowing all my preoccupations, just like the sounds of fellow passengers, to come and go without mental commentary.