charge of the foraging party would ride up to the
monastery with his escort. They would have been seen coming, and after a
few signs of hurrying and preparation and the fluttering of several red
monastic skirts in the breeze, a small select deputation of monks would
descend from the main building to meet the intruders. This deputation
would first and foremost bring with it a white muslin rag as an emblem
of peace. Along with the rag would be carried peace-offerings, of which
the most common would be a tray of whole-wheat parched and salted, or a
small basket of eggs, which, on nearer acquaintance later in the day,
would usually be found to be neither new-laid nor fresh, but simply
'eggs.'

With the aid of an interpreter a pleasant conversation would ensue. The
officer would then probably produce his hand-camera and snapshot the
head lama, after which he would try to get to business. He would ask how
much of such and such article the monastery could sell us. The monks
would shake their heads, flutter their skirts, jerk up their thumbs, and
in a shrill falsetto repeat the word 'Menduk' (which means 'nothing').
After a little more parley they would confess to having, say, twenty
bagfuls of tsampa or whatever was required. Even the naming of a high
rate and the jingling of a bag of rupees in their faces would not make
them raise the above figure. You would then, if you were the officer,
proceed within the monastery and demand to be shown the said twenty
bagfuls. You would be led with great pomp and circumstance upstairs and
along dark passages and past rows of cells till you were ushered into a
small pantry or storeroom, where, with a gesture of pompous satisfaction
at having so completely fulfilled your requirements, the head monk would
point to a few handfuls of tsampa lying at the bottom of a small
elongated wooden trough. You would feel a little annoyance at this, and
show signs of it. The head monk, as by a happy inspiration, would
suddenly beckon you to accompany him, and, after another long meandering
through the monastery, would lead you to a large doorway into a large
darkened hall, which, when your eyes became accustomed to the dim light,
you would recognise as the main 'gompa' or temple of the monastery. Here
his hand would steal into yours, which he would caress, while with his
free hand he pointed to the chief image of Buddha, which he was
apparently wishing you to admire. Of course you admired him, but you
wa