Buḍḍhagayā, sacred to our beloved Lord Buḍḍha, where I had vowed my vow, and prayed for protection and mercy. That reminded me of the parting words I left behind me, when bidding adieu to my folks and friends at home. I had then said that in three years I would be able to enter Tibet. That was on the 26th of June, 1897, and here I was stepping on the soil of Tibet on the 4th of July, 1900.
How could I prevent myself from being transported with mingled feelings of joy, gratitude and hope? But I was tired and hungry. I took my luggage from my back and gently set it on a piece of rock, after brushing off the snow, and then, taking out my store of provisions, made some dough out of baked flour, snow and butter. Morsel after morsel, the mixture, with a sprinkle of powdered pepper and salt, went down my throat with unearthly sweetness, and I fancied that the Gods in Paradise could not feast on dishes more exquisitely palatable. I made away with two bowlfuls of the preparation with the greatest relish; that ended my meal for the day.
I should observe here that I have always adhered, as I adhere now, to the rule of one full meal a day, besides taking some dried fruits or something of that kind for breakfast. I may also state that the bowl of which I speak here was of a fairly large size, and two of them constituted a full good repast, especially as the wheat produced in cold latitudes seems to be richer in nutrition than that of warmer countries.
Well, I had dined grandly. The ocean of snow stretched around me and below me, far away. I was still in an extatic mood and all was interesting. But in which direction was I to proceed in resuming my journey ?
