The Forbidden City, Lhasa, had stirred my imagination even as a child. The prospect of visiting the mysterious land was a ‘forbidden pleasure’ I always fancied. Life fulfils one’s fancies in strange ways. In Kathmandu, I noticed a multitude of travel agencies offering trips to Tibet, and after much bargaining got a reasonably priced deal. To travel to Tibet, one needs to be part of a tourist group and at all times be escorted by an authorised travel guide. The one-week package deal included bed and breakfast, a land cruiser that would take us from Kathmandu to Lhasa, entry fees where applicable, and a flight back.

One rainy morning, I set out in a bus loaded with tourists from across the globe towards the Tibet border, adrenaline levels insanely high. After a bus ride through breathtaking landscape, we finally reached the border. Tibet loomed dreamy, mysterious and regal on a mountainous terrain, semi covered in clouds; a place where time had stopped long ago. However, my dreamlike state was rudely punctured by the nightmarish reality of the Chinese governance in the country, which you experience only if you venture to cross the border on foot and not fly into the fancy airport at Lhasa.

I realised for the first time that I was not in a free country when we were denied the use of a toilet at the Chinese Customs after walking up a steep slope with heavy bags and then waiting in the rain. Chinese soldiers were marching and shouting viciously, and an old Tibetan woman was kicked aside for illegal immigration. The meaning of ‘forbidden land’ was chillingly clear.

After what seemed like eternity, I finally cleared Customs. When I had been presented with a glossy brochure, I had not been apprised of the fact that we would have to stay in the border town the entire day without a hotel and start moving only at midnight, or that some places like the sacred Namtso Lake, which apparently reflects the face of the next Dalai Lama-to-be, would be skipped due to road construction.

Lesson number one: I had to keep my hopes low. I slowly began to unwind in the beauty around me; a landscape that was far superior to any political boundary that may want to contain it. The Land Cruisers took off at midnight. After a night of crossing treacherous terrain when I woke up next morning with altitude sickness, I was taken aback to find that I was facing the Everest! There was an unexplainable feeling of strength that I felt standing on the Roof of the World, hands on my waist, facing the highest peak in the world. Words cannot explain the magnificence of the peak that many have sought to conquer, standing serenely, its head in a halo of clouds.

After a hot breakfast of Tibetan bread, eggs and butter tea, and siesta at the meagre boarding, we were off again for a new adventure. Before stopping at Lhatse, we crossed miles of grey mountains that looked as old as time, and deep ravines where one wrong turn would mean losing your life. The hotel room was standard, but everyone had to share a common toilet, that was just a primitive hole in the ground. Besides, there were no bathrooms. The Tibetans dwell in this harsh reality everyday. After a walk in the market area, which still retained a Tibetan flavour amongst the various Chinese goods, I slept off dreaming of winding roads, majestic hills and marching Chinese soldiers. My guidebook boasted of Shigatse, my next stop, of being a very modern city. I only hoped for a bath after two days!

En route, rosy cheeked Tibetan families travelling on horse carts waved to us. Shigatse is a typical Chinese town with high-rises and blue glass buildings. The modern hotel with a hot bath and a western toilet stating ‘disinfected’ was a welcome change. We went sightseeing in the afternoon to the Kumbum Monastery. It was a complex of several monasteries, bustling with monks in maroon, gilded statues of the Buddha, beautiful Thangka paintings and intricate carvings. A primitive feeling crept over me standing in the monastery surrounded by the highest mountains and listening to ancient mantras. The remaining evening was spent window-shopping for Tibetan jewellery, prayer wheels, singing bowls and artefacts.

After a good night’s sleep we left for Gyantse the next day, which was a modern city too. The disparity between the cities that I had crossed was very disturbing. A long red fort dominated the horizon. Next to it was a multi-tiered monastery, with twenty small cells on every level containing Buddhist paintings and carvings. The top of the monastery afforded a breathtaking view of the city below and rows of Buddhist prayer flags fluttering gently in the wind added an ethereal aura.

We started the most exciting part of the trip the next day to Lhasa. For centuries, Lhasa had been forbidden to outsiders, as there was a prediction that one day the city would fall to foreign hands. The journey was through a mountain pass and there was no real road. The Land Cruisers moved deftly through blocks of stone and deep mountain ridges. En route we stopped at a remote village in the heart of the mountains to talk to the inhabitants and play with their yaks that ran over the frosty ground, bells around their necks merrily tinkling. Thereafter, we traced the course of the Brahmaputra River, which started as a string of rivulets from the melting glaciers and united to form the gorgeous, green river, set like an emerald in the aridness of the surrounding grey mountains.

We reached Lhasa late in the afternoon and thus I realised one of my loveliest dreams. It was a beautiful city, although it has a distinct Chinese look. However, nothing could destroy the quaintness of the old buildings or its ever-smiling Tibetan occupants. We stayed at the Tibetan Muslim area next to a mosque. The Jokhang temple at Lhasa, a large monastery regarded as very holy by the Tibetans, was packed with Buddhists from all over the world stretching on the ground in prayer. Rows of butter lamps cast large shadows on the dark interiors.

Late afternoon, we paid a visit to the Tibetan medicine centre, where a doctor explained to us the history and practice of Tibetan medicine. Free massages were given along with prescriptions for ailments. The sick bunch of tourists then headed to see the flying frogs, lizards and other preserved reptiles that were used to make the medicines. The Tibetan Museum gives one a panoramic view of Tibet. It provides for headphones and audiovisual presentations as one passes by each object. Pre-historic ruins found in Tibet and the pre-historic life of the Tibetans down to the modern day were on display at the museum. Finally, we went to the place we had all been waiting for with bated breath: the Potala Palace, set high on a hill. After a steep climb, I finally reached the serene interiors resplendent with spectacular paintings and carvings everywhere. The palace houses the shrines of previous Dalai Lamas and the seat of the current Dalai Lama, which now lies bereft of its occupant.

There were security cameras everywhere, lending a hushed atmosphere of secrecy to the place. We spent the remaining evening getting together for dinner and reflecting over our experiences in the land of the Shangri La. It had been a mixed experience with the misery of the locals coexisting with the pure beauty of the Himalayas. I flew back to Kathmandu the next day, swooping over the snow-clad Everest and other high peaks, and Tibet once again became the fairytale country of my dreams covered by cotton clouds and mist.