If you are writing about Tibet you need not merely talk of Lamas and yaks, or so believes Deepa Agarwal. And she’s right. Caravan to Tibet brings alive the journey of a 14-year-old Shauka (a member of a nomadic-trader tribe), Debu, whose search for his missing father takes him from a quaint little village on the India-Tibet border to Tibet.

That the author knows what she’s talking about is an added advantage. If you want to enjoy the journey thoroughly, do take the trouble of going through the author’s note. It helps in appreciating the story as it unfolds over the terrain of the Himalayas, the spine-chilling Kungri Bingri Pass, Potala Palace, the home of the Dalai Lama, and the gold mines of Thok Jalong.

The story is set in the closing years of the 19th century but don’t let that put you off. Imagine galloping away along a mountain trail surrounded by scented Junipers or along unknown mountain paths under the moonlight. There’s enough action here to make you want to burn the midnight lamp. The story begins after Debu’s father goes missing in a blizzard where he loses contact with his comrades. The hardships that follow, Debu’s discovery of a secret treasure, his friendship with an interesting fellow, Sonam Darka who drinks out of a ‘silver-lined wooden cup’ and the hint that his father may still be alive sets him off on a magnificent trail.

From the Potala palace, to a robber’s camp and a gold mine, Debu’s experiences are at once exhilarating and scary. On the way, he encounters a robber-chief who has conquered a spirit and hence possesses magical powers, horse races where 14-year-olds participate and market places where you can exchange borax for silk.

A good book makes you a part of it. So does Caravan to Tibet. You can’t help but share Debu’s excitement all along the journey. There is also a link with Calcutta, where the traders come to buy their stuff, with trains like ‘huge iron horses, which run with their bellies on fire, carrying hundreds of people’. This is a world where caravans richly laden with silk travel through mountain passes to the sound of horses’ hooves and the tinkling bells of the jibbos (a local animal). Where the rich wear blue and gold brocade silk robes, and green silk hats and the women wear elaborate headdresses and hold your breath, painted yak skin masks to protect their complexion!

A simple story well told, this is a book that stays with you long after you’ve read it.

Smita Lala