I woke up in the middle of the night. The sound of Dhomsey’s deep barks had taken me from such a wonderful dream. An escape.
Dhomsey never barks, so I slowly got out of bed. I gingerly stepped across the cool, concrete crevice near the foot of my bedframe. Pala always said he would fill that hole.
As I entered the hallway I felt a sharp feeling of unease stir inside my chest. The dark hall seemed distinctly more somber, as if there had been a recent death, but there hadn’t been.
The usual scent of soothing incense was missing, as I crossed the hall into the kitchen. I lit the main lamp which was on the table, where it was always placed. As the fire sparked the lamp, illuminating the kitchen, I saw tsampa scattered on the floor. Next to my right foot was a shattered clay bowl, vestiges of a hearty meal.
Just as I began to pick up the broken pieces, I heard a sound outside. It was coming from near Dhomsey’s den. It sounded deep and hollow like an empty echo.
I ran outside hoping Dhomsey was ok. It was my Amala kneeled over, pangden covering her face. She looked up at me with eyes swollen and full of anguish.
“We’re moving to India, we have to escape.”