- Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -
The tale of Peter Kelder about the amazing discovery of an inexhaustible source of youth made by British Army Colonel Sir Henry Bradford in the mountains of Tibet.
From the translator instead of the preface:
“This is a great sacrament, for no matter how destroyed by time or sickness, adversity or satiety the human body, will revive his gaze of the Eye of Heaven, and return youth, and health, Promotional video:
and will give great strength of life …
Peter Kelder's book is the only source that contains invaluable information on the five ancient Tibetan ritual practices that give us the keys to the gateway of incomprehensibly long youth, health and amazing vitality. For thousands of years, information about them was kept by the monks of a secluded mountain monastery in the deepest secret.
They were first revealed in 1938 when a book by Peter Kelder was published. But then the West was not yet ready to accept this information, since it was just beginning to get acquainted with the fantastic achievements of the East. Now, at the end of the twentieth century, after a hurricane of theoretical and practical information about the most diverse systems of Eastern esoteric knowledge swept over the planet, bringing fantastic revelations and opening a new page in the history of human thought, there was an urgent need to move from theory and philosophy to practice choosing the most effective and most extraordinary methods. Every day the veil of secrecy is lifted over more and more new aspects of esoteric knowledge,with each new step in this direction, more and more grandiose prospects of conquering space and time are revealed to humanity. Therefore, it is by no means surprising that Peter Kelder's book has re-emerged from the oblivion of oblivion - its time has come.
Why? What's so special about her? After all, the practices described on its pages do not give the impression of any complicated, and the author himself claims that they are available to any person …
What is the matter, why did it take us so many years to accept such seemingly simple and obvious things?
The point is that it is not just about health-improving exercises, but about ritual actions that reverse the flow of inner time. Even now, after all the miracles we have seen, this does not fit into the mind. But, nevertheless, the fact remains - the method works and works in this way! By what means? Incomprehensible! Such elementary things … It can't be!
However, let's not rush to conclusions, because the sacramental “all ingenious is simple” has not yet been canceled. And the only criterion of truth in this case (however, as in any other) can only be practice. Those who try will be convinced that the method works. And does it really matter how? The priceless treasure of the ancients is open to each of us. Absolutely harmless. Available to anyone. Incomprehensibly mysterious in its utmost simplicity. It is enough to reach out and take it. Every day … For ten to twenty minutes … And that's all … Is it so difficult?
And it hardly matters whether Colonel Bradford was a real person or whether Peter Kalder composed this whole story in order to tell us in a fascinating way about the unique practice passed down to him by his Tibetan teacher. Of course, we are grateful to the author for the few pleasant hours that we spend reading his story, but this gratitude cannot be compared with the deepest gratitude that we feel towards him for his gift - practical information about the Eye of Rebirth”- an inexhaustible source of youth and vitality, which became available to us thanks to his book.
Chapter first
Everyone would like to live long, but no one wants to grow old.
-Jonathan Swift
This happened several years ago.
I sat on a park bench reading the evening paper. An elderly gentleman walked over and sat down beside him. He looked about seventy years old. Sparse gray hair, drooping shoulders, a cane and a heavy shuffling gait. Who could have known that my whole life from that moment would change once and for all?
After a while, we got to talking. It turned out that my interlocutor was a retired colonel in the British army who also served in the Royal Diplomatic Corps for some time. On duty, he had a chance to visit in his life almost every conceivable and inconceivable corner of the earth. That day Sir Henry Bradford - as he introduced himself - told me some amusing stories from his adventurous life, which amused me greatly.
Parting, we agreed on a new meeting, and soon our friendly relations turned into friendship. Almost every day the colonel and I met at my house or at his house and sat by the fireplace until late at night, conducting leisurely conversations on a variety of topics. Sir Henry turned out to be an interesting man.
One autumn evening, as usual, the colonel and I were sitting in deep armchairs in the drawing room of his London mansion. Outside there was the rustle of rain and the rustle of car tires behind the wrought-iron fence. A fire crackled in the fireplace.
The colonel was silent, but I sensed a certain inner tension in his behavior. As if he wanted to tell me about something very important to him, but could not dare to reveal the secret. Such pauses have happened in our conversations before. I was curious every time, but I didn't dare to ask a direct question until that day. Now I felt that it was not just an old secret. The colonel clearly wanted to ask me for advice or suggest something. And I said:
- Listen, Henry, I noticed a long time ago that there is something that haunts you. And I, of course, understand - we are talking about something very, very significant for you. However, it is also quite obvious to me that for some reason you want to know my opinion on the issue that concerns you. If you are restrained only by doubts as to whether it is advisable to initiate me - a person in general, an outsider - in a secret, and I am sure that it is some secret hidden behind your silence, you can rest assured. Not a single living soul will know what you tell me. At least until you yourself tell me to tell anyone about it. And if you are interested in my opinion or you need my advice, you can be sure - I will do everything in my power to help you, gentleman's word.
The colonel spoke - slowly, choosing his words carefully:
“You see, Pete, this isn't just a secret. Firstly, this is not my secret. Secondly, I don't know how to find the keys to her. And thirdly, if this mystery is revealed, it is quite possible that it will change the direction of the life of all mankind. Moreover, it will change so abruptly that even in our wildest fantasies, we cannot imagine this now.
Sir Henry was silent for a moment.
“During the last few years of military service,” he continued after a pause, “I commanded a unit stationed in the mountains in northeastern India. Through the town in which my headquarters was located, a road passed - an ancient caravan route leading from India to the hinterland, to a plateau that stretches beyond the main ridge. On market days, crowds of people flocked from there - from remote corners of the interior regions - to our town. Among them were residents of one area lost in the mountains. Usually these people came in a small group - eight to ten people. Sometimes among them were lamas - mountain monks. I was told that the village from which these people come is at a distance of twelve days' journey. They all looked very strong and hardy, from which I concluded that for a European who is not so accustomed to hiking in wild mountains,an expedition to those lands would be a very difficult undertaking, and without a guide it would be simply impossible, and the journey to one end would take no less than a month. I asked the residents of our town and other people from the mountains where exactly is the place where these people come from. And each time the answer was the same: "Ask them yourself." And immediately the advice was followed not to do this. The fact is that, according to legend, everyone who began to be seriously interested in these people and the source of the legends associated with the place where they came from, sooner or later mysteriously disappeared. And over the past two hundred years, none of the disappeared have returned alive."Mountain runners" - Lung-gom-pa or "Watchers of the wind" - Tibetan messengers and carriers of goods - told from time to time about freshly gnawed human skeletons by wild animals in one of the distant ravines, but it was somehow connected with mysterious disappearances or no - unknown. It was said that no less than fifteen people had disappeared from the town over the past twenty years, and only five or six skeletons were found. Even if these were the bones of one of the missing, it is not known where the rest went.
The colonel was silent for a little longer, and then told about the secret that surrounded the aliens from the distant mountainous area - a secret about which the inhabitants of other areas knew only from legend, passed from mouth to mouth with a glance and almost a whisper.
According to this legend, somewhere in those parts there was a monastery in which lamas lived who possessed the secret of an inexhaustible source of youth. It was as if there was something in the monastery that the storytellers called nothing but the "Heavenly Eye" or "The Eye of Revival." The secret of the inexhaustible source of youth was revealed to those who appeared before the eyes of this "Eye". "This is a great sacrament, for no matter how destroyed by time or illness, adversity or satiety the human body, the Eye of Heaven will revive his gaze, and he will return youth, and health, and will give great strength of life." So the legend said. It was even said that once upon a time, three or four hundred years ago, there were deep old people whom the lamas of that monastery took with them and who then returned to the town on the caravan route as young people - apparently no older than forty.
The lamas of this monastery have possessed the secret of an inexhaustible source of youth for several thousand years. They said that the lamas did not hide anything from those who reached the monastery, willingly devoting the newcomers to the secret of the source. But getting there was not so easy.
Like the vast majority of people, Colonel Bradford began to feel the weight of age when he was in his forties. Every year he felt that old age was steadily approaching, his body was listening to him worse and worse, and that fateful day was not far off when he would have to come to terms with the final victory of senile decrepitude over the body and mind that had served him so faithfully. It is not surprising that the strange legend about the source of youth aroused in him the keenest interest. Not embarrassed by the awe of the traditional taboos characteristic of the locals, he questioned everyone he could, collated scattered pieces of information, and gradually came to the conclusion that there was something real behind it all. Sir Henry's retirement date was approaching. Therefore, once on a market day, the colonel decided to turn to one of the mountain lamas - a stranger from those distant places - with the question of the location of the monastery where the fountain of youth was kept. But he did not say anything intelligible to him, because he did not know a single English word, and the colonel spoke only the dialect spoken on the southern side of the main ridge. The locals, who understood the mountain dialect, whom the colonel was trying to attract as interpreters, turned around and immediately left, as soon as they talked about the source of youth. And from the general fragmentary information that Sir Henry was able to glean from that conversation, it was not possible to establish any exact location of the monastery. But at the very end of the conversation, the highlander measured the colonel with a long, attentively detached look and very clearly pronounced a few words, from which the next interpreter's hair literally stood on end. He turned gray, wilted, and made an attempt to sneak away and blend in with the crowd - all this was happening in the middle of a bazaar, located on the outskirts of the town. The colonel managed to grab the interpreter by the sleeve just in time, pulled him to him and asked:
- What did the lama say?
“He says what to say to Lama Ky about you…” the utterly frightened interpreter squeezed out of himself.
The colonel turned to ask the highlander who Lama Ky was, but the highlander had already disappeared into the crowd without a trace.
Armed with the strange name of the unknown lama as a key, the Colonel enthusiastically began another series of inquiries. But if earlier many local residents were quite willing to talk about the source of youth, now, barely hearing the magical "Lama Ky", they demonstrated a reaction that completely coincided with the reaction of a frightened interpreter to death.
Eventually, the summer day came when the colonel had to retire. Another officer took command of the unit, and the next morning Sir Henry was to leave for England to be assigned a new civilian service in the Royal Diplomatic Corps. In the evening he went to the hill outside the town. He wanted to take a last look at the sunset over the mountains and be alone with the starry sky. When it was completely dark, Sir Henry lay down on the ground. He looked at the sky for a long time and did not notice how he fell asleep. And suddenly in a dream he heard a voice that slowly said in good English:
-Lama Ky-Nyam is the messenger of the monastery. He brings those chosen to the monastery. He learned about you and will remember you. Don't be afraid of time and come back.
The colonel woke up from surprise. The stars were shining. The town slept at the foot of a hill in a valley surrounded by dark mountains.
“And then I firmly decided for myself that, having finally retired, I would certainly return to India and do my best to find the source of youth and reveal the secret of the Eye of Revival,” the colonel finished his story. - Since then, this idea has not left me, and it seems to me that the time has finally come to implement it. As you yourself see, there is no terrible secret that you should keep sacredly. You and I are not highlanders, but quite well-educated gentlemen. I just wanted to tell you all this in order to propose to go in search of the source of inexhaustible youth with me. And my indecision is explained by this: I very, very doubt that you will be able to take all this mysticism seriously. Do not misunderstand me - in no case do I intend to demand that you participate in my - we will call a spade a spade - adventure, therefore the word you give does not oblige you to anything. It's just that if you have time and you are interested, I will be happy to go there in your company.
The colonel was absolutely right. Of course, my first reaction to his story was a typical reaction to such things, inherent in every rational person - I did not fail to immediately express considerations about the impossibility of the existence of such a phenomenon as an inexhaustible source of youth. I just couldn't imagine what it could be. But Sir Henry always gave me the impression of an exceptionally sane person, and he believed so much in what he had just told me that I could not help but doubt the fairness of my attitude to his story. At some point, I even had a desire to join the colonel, but after weighing all the pros and cons and correlating them with the importance that my very successful career at that time represented for me, I nevertheless chose to refuse. However, he did not dissuade the colonel. However, even if I tried to do this, I would still undoubtedly fail. Sir Henry's intention was the intention of a military man accustomed to taking full responsibility for his every step and every decision.
Colonel Bradford left two weeks later. Remembering him, I sometimes felt a sense of regret that I had not gone on this expedition with him. In order to somehow get rid of my inner inconvenience, I tried to convince myself of the impossibility of the existence of a source of youth.
“Nonsense,” I said to myself. - can a person conquer old age? After all, this is a natural process, and time has never flowed backwards anywhere on Earth. You just need to come to terms and grow old beautifully. Indeed, there are, in fact, fine-looking old people whose old age looks almost beautiful. And there is no need to demand from life that which it cannot give.
But somewhere in the depths of my soul I was still haunted by the thought:
- But what if?! What if an inexhaustible source of youth really exists? What if someone managed to reverse time? What then? God, it's hard to even imagine!
I wanted so much that the "Eye of Rebirth" was not just a beautiful legend, and that Colonel Bradford would be able to reveal its secret.
* * *
Three years have passed. In the stream of everyday business bustle, thoughts about the colonel and his dream faded into the background. But one day, returning home from the office, I found an envelope among my mail. As soon as I glanced at him, I recognized the Colonel's handwriting!
I eagerly opened the envelope and read the letter. His text was filled with hope mixed with despair. Sir Henry wrote that he had to face many annoying inconsistencies, that his business was progressing slowly, but that it finally seemed to him that very little remained to the goal. A little more, and he will appear before the gaze of the mysterious "Eye of Rebirth". I did not find any signs of a return address either on the envelope or in the text of the letter, but I was very pleased by the very fact that the colonel was alive.
The next letter from the colonel came many months later. Opening it, I noticed that my hands were shaking slightly. The letter contained a truly fantastic message. Sir Henry did not just manage to get to the fountain of youth. He was returning to Europe, and he was taking the "Eye of Rebirth" with him! In a letter he informed me that he would arrive in London in about six months.
So, more than five years have passed since the day when the colonel and I saw each other for the last time. I tirelessly asked myself questions:
- What is Sir Henry today? Did the Eye of Rebirth change his view? Did the old colonel succeed in stopping the internal time by “freezing” the aging process? When he appears, will he be the same as he was on the day of our separation? Or maybe he will look older, but not more than five years, but only a year or two?
In the end, I received answers not only to these questions of mine, but also to many others, which I previously could not even think of.
One evening, while I was sitting alone by the fireplace, the internal phone rings. When I answered, the concierge said:
“Colonel Bradford is here, sir. I shuddered with surprise, a wave of enthusiasm swept over me, and I exclaimed:
- Let him rise immediately!
A few seconds later the doorbell of my apartment rang, I opened the door, but … alas, in front of me stood a smart youngish gentleman who was completely unfamiliar to me. Noticing my bewilderment, he asked:
- You didn't expect me?
- No, sir. Rather, I was waiting, but not for you … - I answered in confusion. “There must be a gentleman who must come to me, still climbing the stairs.
“Well, yes, but I must admit I was counting on a more cordial welcome,” said the visitor in such a tone as if he and I were old friends. - And you take a closer look, do I really need to introduce myself?
He watched me, clearly enjoying the way the bewilderment in my eyes gave way to surprise, surprise to amazement, and finally, completely amazed, I exclaimed:
-Henry?! You?! Can not be!!!
The features of this man really resembled Colonel Bradford, but not the one I knew, but the one who began his military career with the rank of captain many, many years ago! At least, this is how he should, according to my understanding, look then - a tall and slender broad-shouldered gentleman, under an impeccably-fitting light gray suit one could discern strong muscles, a manly tanned face, thick dark hair, slightly touched by gray at the temples. A relaxed posture, light, soft and precise movements, no cane - nothing from that tired old man, tired of an eventful life, whom I once met in the park.
“I’m it, I’m,” said the colonel, and added, “and if you don’t let me into the drawing room right away, I might think that your manners have changed markedly over the years. For the worse.
Unable to contain myself, I happily hugged Sir Henry, and as he walked to the fireplace and sat down in an armchair, I quickly threw a barrage of questions at him.
“Wait, wait,” he protested, laughing, “stop, take a deep breath and listen. I promise, Pete, that I’ll tell you everything without hiding, but only in order.
And he began his story.
* * *
Upon arrival in India, the colonel immediately went to the town where his unit once stood. Over the two decades that have passed since then, much has changed. The British troops were no longer there. But bazaars and market days remained. As before, people came and went to the town along the high road, and, as before, the spirit of the legend about a mysterious monastery that kept the secret of the source of youth hovered over the mountains, about two hundred-year-old lamas, who looked no more than forty, about mysterious disappearances and found in wild gorge skeletons.
Almost twenty years later, the colonel started everything from the very beginning - inquiries, contacts, persuasions. One after another, he undertook expeditions to the mountainous regions, but all was in vain. On one occasion he tried to follow the mountain lamas who came to the bazaar when they returned home. But this turned out to be impossible - the lamas knew the mountains very well, were very strong and walked so fast that it was impossible for a sixty-year-old man to keep up with them.
Direct conversations with them also did not give anything - they pretended not to understand him, although they bargained with the locals quite briskly. True, each spoke at the same time in his own dialect, but they understood each other perfectly. From all this, the colonel concluded that he had chosen the wrong line of conduct. However, he realized that it was too late to retreat: after many inquiries, a rumor spread throughout the district about a white old man who was looking for a source of youth. Therefore, he methodically continued the work he had begun.
There were moments when it seemed to him that everything was lost, that even if some real-life phenomenon is hidden behind the legends about the "Eye of Renaissance", the Tibetans will never allow a white stranger into the very heart of their secret. But he was recalling a dream he had on his last night at the top of the hill. The words that he heard then sounded clearly in his ears. The colonel wasn’t even completely sure that this was nothing more than a dream.
And Sir Henry with renewed vigor once again started all over again. After three years of slow, gradual zooming in, he got the feeling that someone was watching him. This strange feeling did not leave him even in moments when he was absolutely sure that he was completely alone. It was then that he wrote his first letter to me. A few days later, an event occurred that ended the uncertainty.
It was a spring market day, and in the morning the colonel went to the tents on the outskirts of the town to once again ask people about the Eye of Revival.
Yaks bellowed, merchants shouted something in different voices, buyers wandered among the tents, examining dishes, harnesses, weapons and other goods. The colonel walked slowly through the bazaar, examining the audience. Suddenly he felt a strong, soft push in his back. He turned around, but there was no one next to him. However, about twenty meters away, the colonel saw a tall llama staring at him intently. Meeting his gaze, the colonel felt a shock again, but this time from within. It was an incomprehensible sensation - as if the power of the lama's gaze through his eyes penetrated into the body of Sir Henry and there exploded with a soft soundless blow. The lama motioned for the colonel.
“I've come for you,” he said in pretty decent English as Sir Henry approached. - Come on.
- Wait, I need to take something from my things.
-I have everything you may need on the way. Come on. When you return, all your belongings will be completely intact. The innkeeper will take care of them.
With these words, Lama Ky-Nyam - and it was he - turned and walked slowly away. Limping and leaning on his cane, the colonel followed him.
None of the people around them turned around, no one looked after them. The colonel had the impression that from the moment his gaze met the gaze of the lama, he disappeared for everyone around him - they simply stopped noticing him, as if the explosion of the power of the lama's gaze inside the colonel's body surrounded him with a kind of opaque screen for ordinary human perception. The colonel felt that everything he knew, all the relationships to which he was accustomed, everything that constituted the social significance and life experience of the person whom he considered himself to be, remained outside - behind this invisible screen, there, in the midst of the bustle of a market day.
And within, within, there was something helpless, devoid of a fulcrum, something that had to start learning to live from the very beginning. And, as if grasping the thin thread of the last hope, he obediently walked after the lama.
They walked all day. As dusk fell, the colonel was surprised to find that he was hardly tired. Darkness found them at the entrance to a narrow gorge.
- Let's spend the night here, - Ky announced. These were the first words he spoke during the day's journey. “There's a cave over there over the ledge. It contains food and water.
They went up the slope. The cave was shallow, but very comfortable. In the depths of it, something like a couch was carved into the rock. Lama Kı made a fire, and in a pot, which he took from the crevice, he boiled some barley. He took water from a round hole near the cave wall.
When the colonel had eaten, Lama Ky came down from the cave, picked up an armful of some fragrant grass at the bottom of the gorge, spread it on a stone trestle bed and told the colonel to go to bed. When he settled down, Lama Kı carefully covered him with his huge saffron-but-golden cloak made of rough cloth, which had burnt out in the sun.
- You speak English very well … - said the colonel.
“I had time to learn,” Ky said evasively. -And not only speak English.
- How long have you been taking people to the monastery? the colonel asked.
- For a long time.
- Who was the lama Ky before you?
- No one.
- Yes, but I heard that Lama Kı came for the elect three hundred years ago.
- He came.
- So, someone was the lama Ky-Nyam before you?
- Why do you say that?
- But you couldn't …
- Why?
“But you’re quite young. You can't look more than forty. Three hundred years ago … Even if the source of youth …
And then the colonel suddenly stopped short. He was beginning to understand.
“Sleep,” said Lama Ky, “tomorrow I will wake you up at dawn.
Then he began to do some exercises. The colonel could not see the llama in the dark, falling asleep, he heard only his rhythmic breathing.
In the morning, Ky cooked some mountain beans, fed the colonel, and they set off again. When the colonel asked why the lama didn’t eat anything, he replied that llamas didn’t eat at all on the way. The night before, the Colonel had not seen the llama very well in the light of the dying fire. And during the previous day's journey, he never took off his cloak with a hood. Now the colonel had the opportunity to examine the lama Ky without a cloak. He wore soft boots of raw cowhide, light cotton pants, and a red tank top made of some strange fabric. The smooth, firm olive skin and the perfect lines of the lama's lean, muscular body made a truly amazing impression on the colonel. Throwing his cloak over his shoulder, Lama Kah walked lightly over the stones and was silent.
The colonel was surprised to find that keeping up with the lama was not so difficult. He walked slowly, of course, but not so slowly that Sir Henry, with his cane, could follow him so easily. He asked the lama what was the matter.
“It's my job to lead old people through the mountains to the fountain of youth. Now my strength is your strength. And you can return yourself.
- Come back? But people say they don't come back from there ?!
- People? Listen more to what people say … Those who want to stay do not return. And you belong to a completely different world and will undoubtedly decide to return.
- And they will let me go?
- Have you heard enough of terrible tales? You were called to teach. And to leave or stay is your business. No one is holding anyone, no one lures anyone with cunning and no one drives anyone into the monastery by force. You searched and were persistent enough, which means that you really need it, you made the decision to change yourself and are ready to go to the end. And our business is to teach you how to overcome this path …
-To teach a method?.. You mean that the "Eye of Rebirth" is …
-You will see. Everything has its time.
- Listen, Ky, do you think I can learn?
- Why not? Or are you not like other people?
- And having learned myself, will I be able to teach others?
- Learn first. Although, to be honest, we really count on it …
Not a word was spoken until evening. They spent the night in a cave similar to the first. Apparently, for hundreds of years the practice of leading old people through the mountains has been worked out to the smallest detail. The colonel fell asleep, as on the previous night, to the rhythmic puffing of the exercising lama Ky.
In the morning the colonel asked:
- Tell me, Ky, and who belonged to those skeletons about which the "mountain runners" told?
- How should I know? Probably the people who were killed by the mountains.
- But they were found in the same gorge …
- The gorge can be very long. Maybe this is where the big leopards live. If these people went to the same place, then their path passed precisely through that gorge.
- But they did not go to the source of youth?
- Who knows?.. I am not taking all those who are thirsty to the monastery, but only those whom we choose.
- What is the selection criterion?
- There should be no greed in a person. After all, it often happens that a person strives for the "Eye of Rebirth" in order to trade youth afterwards. It has long since ceased to be a secret that the "Eye of Rebirth" is something that everyone can take with him and pass on to another person.
- How can you find out the deeply hidden motives driving a person?
Lama Ky-Nyam remained silent, only a smile appeared on his lips.
“All right,” said the colonel, “you know that greed drives man. However, he managed to get to the monastery. What then? Will you keep him out of the source?
- To solve such problems is not my business, but the lamas-teachers in the monastery. Personally, I think that if a greedy person managed to get to the monastery, then there was a need for that. I guess he will get everything what others get. But who said that during his stay in the monastery, his motives will not undergo changes? Although, you know, I don't really believe that the greedy will reach the source. After all, no one will lead him.
-Does it happen that you … how to put it … stop the greedy loners trying to get to the monastery on their own?
The lama laughed.
-Of course not! What for? For this, there are mountains that do not forgive mistakes.
- Is greed a mistake?
-Of course. The mistake of a lifetime. And another day of the journey passed in complete silence. Days gave way to nights, nights to days, they walked from cave to cave, and soon the colonel lost track of time. Lama Kı was mostly silent. From time to time the colonel would start asking him about something. The lama answered willingly, but succinctly and accurately.
Another conversation was remembered by Sir Henry. One evening, shortly before they arrived at the monastery, the colonel asked:
- By the way, you said at the beginning of our journey that you count on the fact that I, having mastered the "Eye of Revival", will be able to teach this to other people. Why are you interested in this? By the way, for all the time I have never asked who it is - "you"?
- About who we are, I still won't tell you anything. And we are counting on you because in a few decades people in the “big world” - let's call it that - will come face to face with the need to fight with themselves for their own survival. Their tendency to indulge in all their weaknesses will lead them too far. And then the "Eye of Rebirth" can provide them with invaluable help. You are the first person from there who will receive the treasure of this knowledge. No one will demand from you that, upon returning home, you immediately begin to gather crowds around you and present the "Eye of Rebirth" as a kind of revelation. But if someone asks you to teach him the art of staying young, you should not refuse.
* * *
Finally, one day - it was almost mid-summer - they came.
Two hours after they set off in the morning, the gorge, along the bottom of which they walked along a small mountain river, began to gradually widen, and at about noon the mountains parted and they came out into a narrow valley. The river in this place expanded, branched and made several loops. Above one of its bends, the colonel saw a tiny village, consisting of about one and a half to two dozen small houses with flat roofs, half dug into a gentle slope. A path descended from the village to the bridge across the river. On the other side, the trail crossed a valley and climbed steeply upward, hiding in a dense forest that covered a high slope. Higher up, where the forest gave way to bare rocky rocks, there was a kind of staircase that led to the eras of the monastery, which was located partly in buildings made of hewn stone blocks.partly in the rooms cut right into the rocks, the dark windows of which gaped over the steep cliffs.
“Well, that's all, we have come,” Lama Ky said to the colonel. - Then you go alone. Do you see the trail? You will climb it to the monastery. There you will be accepted.
- And you? Where do you live? Isn't it in a monastery? - Sir Henry was surprised.
“I live everywhere,” Lama Ky-Nyam replied, with a wide gesture of his hand, circling the high blue mountains that surrounded the valley on all sides.
And in front of the amazed colonel's eyes, it began to become transparent, eventually dissolving in the still crystal clear air of the mountains.
To say that Sir Henry was in shock is to say nothing. It took him no less than a quarter of an hour to recover from the impression made on him by such an eccentric way of Lama Ky-Nyam to say goodbye.
The rest of the way took the colonel all day until evening. The trail climbed very steeply, and almost every hundred feet of the way the old man had to stop to rest. Finally, as the lilac twilight began to gather over the valley, the colonel went up to the monastery wall and knocked on the low board door.
- Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -