Dancing in the Wind

I'm lying here with my back on cool smooth marble in the dappled shade of a line of tall, thin trees with long, vibrant green leaves. The ground is dry in the heat of this Indian summer and only a few clouds drift dreamily across a blue sky. Young monks are on their break from class and, with eyes closed, I listen to the musical sounds of these boys playing, running and shouting. They are playing cricket with a rough, wide stick and a small hard ball. Leaves rustle in the wind, a phrase which is a cliche I know, but it is such an accurate description. The leaves are rustling in the wind, however this soft sound is drowned out by the frantic flapping of flags; flags that are tall and thin like the trees. It looks as though ten thousand people have hung their bed sheets out to dry, or ten thousand sailing ships are coming ashore together, tightly packed shoulder to shoulder. With my eyes closed it sounds like billowing sails. But there is more to this infinite row of colourful cloths. These are Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags, or 'dar-chok'. On each piece of cloth prayers are inscribed in Tibetan and these prayers are said to be carried far and wide by the wind. Every breath of air will carry them further, offering blessings to places that feet alone cannot reach. It is very breezy here today and I am lying on a cool marble bench, dappled in sunlight whilst all around me, to the music of the children's voices, prayers are dancing in the wind.