Chapter One: A Walk to the Festival

February 12th, 2017

If it weren't for my photographic memory, I would have forgotten that this journal existed, but I haven't stopped thinking about it since my first entry. I didn't have time to return to it. Truthfully, I was distracted by my studies. But at least I'm here now.

Perhaps what urged me to remember this day is because it's Sonam Lhosar, which is a holiday where the Yolmo and Tamang people of Nepal visit holy places like monasteries and stupas, and wear masks and dance to chase evil spirits away.

Everyone is in a cheerful mood today, and even some of the students are going into the city to join the locals in the celebration and enjoy the street food. Some, however, were told to stay at Kamar-Taj because the natives consider it a holy place.

Wong and I weren't told to stay.

"Strange, I am not so sure about this. Ancient One didn't tell us to stay, but she didn't tell us to leave either," Wong grumbles as he looks out of the window at the lights in the distance.

"Come on, Wong. Live a little," I look over my shoulder at him as I pull my boots on. "You know, I think I can smell the Bara pancakes from here."

He subtly raises his nose to the window, catching a savory scent in the breeze, and he clear his throat to muffle the sound of hunger beneath his robes. Wong shifts in place, at war with his sense of duty and the gnawing ache in his belly.

"I suppose one pancake wouldn't hurt."

Wong rubs his hands together and then he raises his hand to open a portal when I touch his forearm to stop him.

"It's a beautiful night. Let's sneak out the back to avoid the worshippers at the gate, and walk our way to the festival," I suggest as I nod to the door.

Quietly, we bow our way pass servants and fellow students, and we pause near the Ancient One's closed door. People assume that she sleeps above us, but she sleeps among us. Wong motions for me to walk by first, but I'm a gentleman. I motion for him to do the same. At an impasse, we hold up our fists and prepare for a quick game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.

…

"You cheated," Wong says in a loud hush.

I slowly shrug my shoulders, and he wipes his sweaty palms on his robes before he slowly moves in front of the closed door and then passes it with a sigh of relief.

It's my turn to pass the door and the moment that I place my second foot on the other side, we hear a stern voice.

"Joining in on the festivities tonight, are you?" It's the Ancient One, wide awake behind her closed door. She doesn't move to open it and neither of us move to open it either.

Wong lightly elbows my side as he straightens his posture.

"No. I mean, yes, Ancient One," Wong pauses before throwing me under the bus, "It was Stephen's idea."

"Did you just tell on me? I'm beginning to question our friendship, Wong," I turn to him, looking shocked, although I'm not.

There's tense silence.

"Don't stay out too late, gentlemen. We have visitors to welcome tomorrow morning, and this place needs its librarian and rising student in rested shape to greet them with enthusiasm."

Wong breathes another sigh of relief and I reflexively nod my head, even though I know the Ancient One can't see my physical response. I follow it with words.

"We'll be the perfect representatives of Kamar-Taj. I promise. Good night, Ancient One."

I gently urge Wong away from the door and we briskly make our exit out the back to avoid being see by anyone else, mainly the people that have come to ask for blessings, protection spells, and to give offerings.

We make our way down the hill, and we pass a few apple trees, plucking one each for our consumption. This will probably be the only healthy thing that we'll be eating tonight.

"So, Wong, tell me about yourself," I say as I use the hem of my shirt to wipe some apple juice off my chin.

"What's there to tell?" Wong, already finished with his apple, places the core next to an ant hill for them to finish the rest. "I can tell you a little about my family. I like talking more about them than myself."

We fall into step together, and I look up at the night sky raising a trembling hand to block out the light and air pollution in the distance. Everest has turned into a giant shadow behind some clouds and right above her deadly peak is Uranus. I wonder how many people know that it has twenty-seven moons.

"I come from an ancient order of Chinese monks, and for ten generations, my family has served under the Ancient One. When I was a young boy, I didn't want to become a monk and I didn't want to follow in my family's footsteps. I didn't want to leave China."

I listen as we toddle along, minding the stones on the trail and the fallen branches.

"I was a very disobedient child, and I became even worse as a teenager, especially after my mother passed away. My father couldn't afford to give me an education, the cost of living was going up, so he told me that our only way to survive was to completely move to Kathmandu. I told him that there are many people out there that want to employ a young, strong man, and that I could find us a job that paid enough to keep us there."

He huffs, motioning to a nearby boulder. I sit on it, and I make some room for Wong as he perches beside me. We sit in silence for a little while as he catches his breath, the music of festival is a little louder.

"One day, I came home, and I told my father that I had found work. He didn't ask where or how much I made, but I told him that it was enough that we could stay in China, and he could still travel to Nepal on the weekends. The truth was that I had gotten involved in a gang. I did some things for them, small things, like delivering packages from one location to another. I didn't ask questions because they paid me not to."

We continue our walk, and Wong's tone becomes serious.

"I was supposed to deliver a package at a specific time. 1:30PM. I delivered the package at 1:37PM. My boss was not happy with me. He told me that I lied to him because I told him that I could be dependable, but he excused me for the rest of the day without pay."

Wong shakes his head, the story getting tense, and my eyebrows crease as I listen to him. We're about ten minutes away from reaching civilization, the stars almost impossible to see as the lights grow brighter.

"I didn't know how unhappy until I was on my way home and I was ambushed. I was getting beaten up until someone intervened. I thought that someone heard the commotion and called the police, but I looked up to see that it was my father. He was fighting off my attackers, but not before they jumped on him. One of them pulled out a knife, and they said that I had to pay for my mistake."

A few people pass us and touch our hands, bowing in reverence before a master and his friend. Wong manages a brief smile before bowing in return, and his expression flattens as he stares at the sea of people before us. I stare at him.

"They cut off my father's hand as punishment, even though I begged them to punish me instead," Wong lowers his eyes. "I crawled to him, begged him for my forgiveness and my weakness, and I carried him into our home after seeing to his injury. I packed as many things as I could, and I bribed our way through China until we reached Nepal. The Ancient One brought us inside, and my father was taken away. When I pushed my way through people and doors, I saw something that I didn't believe. The Ancient One was performing magic on him, a spell to stop the bleeding and to heal a portion of his hand. I had never seen anything like that before in my life, and I swore right then and there that I would let go of my former self and serve my father and the Ancient One if they could teach me this."

Puzzled, I ask questions.

"It sounded like your father already had a rapport with the Ancient One. Didn't he know the mystic arts already? Why didn't he use it to defend himself?"

"It was a different time, Strange, and my father didn't tell me that he knew the arts. It's always kept a secret from the new generation until they deem themselves worthy to be asked to learn it. Don't you see, Strange? I wasn't worthy of that knowledge. If I had been, then my father would still have his hand. But…I am not that boy anymore, and my father is still alive and happy, and I pray every night that he truly has forgiven me and is proud of the man that I have become."

Something finally clicks.

"Master Hamir is your father."

I've been so engulfed in my studies that I failed to realize the relationships and sometimes even the people around me. I close my eyes, somehow feeling guilty for not having asked about Wong's past sooner. I do consider him a friend.

"Come, Strange. Let's forget the past and enjoy our present. The first Pani Puri is on the me, the next four are on you."

He jostles my shoulder and I smirk before vanishing into the crowd with him.

February 13th, 2017

We gorged ourselves with food, had some regrets, and we stayed out past midnight. Nothing more to report.