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Updated: May 5, 2025
I have hardly ever enjoyed a meal more, though the Lamas stuffed the food down my throat with their unwashed fingers so fast that they nearly choked me. "Eat, eat as much as you can," said they, grimly, "for it may be your last meal." And eat I did, and washed the tsamba down with quantities of buttered tea, which they poured into my mouth carelessly out of the raksang.
Several Lamas, who had been most brutal, including one who had the previous day taken part in Chanden Sing's flogging, now became quite polite and treated us with a surprising amount of deference. Two Lamas were dispatched to the monastery, and returned after some time with bags of tsamba and a large raksang of boiling tea.
Though he appeared vexed at my not availing myself of the chance of flight he had given me, he treated me with ever-increasing respect and deference. He even produced his wooden bowl, which he filled with steaming tea from the raksang, and lifted it up to my mouth for me to drink.
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