“We’re here.” I looked up warily. It had been nine hours since we’d started our trek from the outskirts of Nako and the sky had turned a deep shade of moonstone in our wake. Kris stood within the frame of an ancient stone gate; its head crowned with a string of Tibetan prayer flags. My breath caught; this was it. I was standing a stone’s throw away from the Indo-Tibetan border, in search of a legend that I’d only first heard of two days ago; the fabled home of angels and giants, and the place from where the second Buddha, Padmasambhava, left to bring Buddhism to Tibet over a thousand years ago. Tso-mang. The monastery lay pressed into the barren mountain-side like an overgrown shrub, firm against the howling winds. Around it, the Himalayas swept away to dizzying, snow-capped heights, yet still bowing before the towering face of Reo Purgyil- the highest mountain in Himachal- that rose at the end of the valley. High above the monastery, a colossal waterfall erupted out into open air. As it fell, it gradually lost all form and reason, finally vanishing into an ethereal mist before it hit the ground, framing the monastery in a burst of white. With the valley echoing with the sound of the young Sutlej coursing through its belly, Kris and I set off for the final leg of the ascent. Night had fallen by the time we reached Tso-mang. Stepping into the monastery, we were greeted by two brothers, Abhishek and Karma. They were locals from the nearby village of Namgia, and had come to Tso-mang on pilgrimage, seeking blessings for Karma's entry into the army. I looked around for the resident Lama, who I'd been told was highly respected and loved in the region but, to my disappointment, he'd already turned in for the night. I'd been hoping to speak to him, but, Karma and Abhishek made up for it in good company. I settled down, enjoying the feeling of sitting next to a warm fire with new friends and decided to meet him int he morning. We must have made a racket because, close to midnight, the Lama staggered out of his room with a crash and let out a sudden string of abuses and curses, slipping between Hindi and the local dialect – a mix between Tibetan and Kinnauri- that left us astounded. His monk’s shift was soiled and stained. His mouth-lopsided. His ancient and lined face was a storm of emotions and the stench of whiskey coiled around him. He’d clearly been drinking. “Come here…ask me for food..ask me for tomato..for onion, for girls. Ask me for drinks..” he spluttered, “don’t stop. Leave, never think about me, leave me alone…always leave me alone” His face crumpled as he continued, and tears began to run down the crevasses of his face. Eventually, he fell silent, though he still swayed from side to side, mumbling under his breath. We sat in silence. I was trying to wrap my head around what had just happened when suddenly, Karma burst out laughing. Kris and I stared at him in shock. “What is it” I hissed. “Why are you laughing?” “listen…listen to what he’s saying!” Karma gasped amidst laughs. I leaned in. Mumblings, mutterings. “Khada bhi nahi hotha ab ( Doesn’t even stand up anymore).” “Hey Meimei! Meimei! (Elder one)” Karma shook his arm. “Aapne Ganda Kiya (You did the dirty)?” Karma made a motion with hand. Realization dawned on me. My god…this old drunk monk, sitting atop a legendary monastery in the heart of the Himalayas, was talking about erectile dysfunction. The ridiculousness of it all was too much, and I burst out laughing. Meimei looked up at us grinned sheepishly. ------------------------------------------X---------------------------X----------------------------X---------------------------------------- Leaving Tso-mang early next morning, I looked back one last time. Meimei sat on his chair at the edge of cliff, staring out at the mountains. A single ray of sunlight haloed around him. Not once did he move, not once did he turn to wave us goodbye. He simply continued to stare into the distance, immovable and silent. Though I couldn't tell from where I stood, I had a feeling that the Angel of Tso-mang was smiling.