The young Milarepa aka Toga.

Later that morning, Dorje and Toga drove the dainty long-haired goats up the mountain path. Progress was slow as they scattered, trotting here and there, tempted by whatever took their fancy. Dorje handed a switch to his friend with orders to keep the stragglers moving; the little boy, power mad, chased the goats ruthlessly. Every now and then he managed to whack an unsuspecting victim who took to the air from all fours as if on springs. Laughing wildly at that irresistible effect, Toga redoubled his efforts until the wary goats scattered at his approach. The high pasture was nothing more than a barren slope where thorny shrubs grew stunted amongst the shale. The high peaks, like great chimneys, smoked as the ferocious wind blew plumes of snow high into the deep blue sky. Spreading out the goats’ bells tinkled in the crystalline air while the boys enjoyed the sun.

Toga rolled onto his back losing himself in the blue expanse above him. As his eyes went out of focus, he saw squiggles like little worms of light dancing in front of him; fascinated, he wondered what they were but before he could formulate the question, Dorje jumped up.

‘Come on, let’s go to the cave and see if anyone’s in,’ the cave in question was at the top of the steep cliff behind them. Not waiting for a reply, Dorje negotiated the very narrow path as nimbly as a goat, leaving Toga to scurry after him as best he could. A filet of green snot dangled from the little boy’s nose; he caught it with his lower lip, sucked on it, then smeared a green trail across his dirty face with the back of his hand. He climbed steadily until the path widened out into a little ledge where a flat slab of rock protruded over the cliff. Wiping his nose once more, he edged gingerly out along it until he was lying flat on his stomach with his face hanging over the end. Far below him, the patchwork of brown fields had, in places, a thin veil of pastel green as new barley sprouted. A fierce breeze whistled down the cliff whipping his long hair into a tangle, screaming in his ears.

There was something hypnotic in that wind; Toga yawned. He was floating on top of the world, like an eagle soaring above the mountains. Below him a pair of kites turned in the void, hardly moving their wings, suddenly, one dropped like a stone and disappeared into the rocky pasture. The boy peered over the ledge straining to see the bird on the ground, but it was well camouflaged. Then he spotted it again as it took off somewhat clumsily and flapped off towards a rocky ledge where it had a nest.

Toga was the kite; the wind blew back his hair as he swooped down to the valley. Laughing with delight, he soared up again, up and up, higher than the mountains. Feeling the resistance of the wind on his outstretched his arms he plunged towards the village; skimming the slope, he soared up above the roof tops, shrieking with pleasure. People had seen him, they were waiving at him, calling to him to come down; he just laughed at their startled faces and flew higher. Turning his face towards the high peaks, he climbed higher and higher, skimming the shimmering white fields until he soared above the great frozen wave hanging above the precipice. Pummelled by an icy blast, a blizzard caught him in its embrace before tumbling him head over heels, tossing him up then letting him fall. Still laughing, he willed himself up, out-racing the wind, faster and faster until he broke through the white swirling cloud and headed into the immense blue void.

‘Toga,’ Dorje pulled him back, ‘what are you doing sleeping on there, you could have fallen off?’ It had taken him a while to realise that the little boy was not following him, calling out, he had waited but not getting an answer, he had gone looking for him. Toga had given him a fright.

‘I was flying over the mountains,’ laughed Toga impervious to Dorje’s scolding, ‘everyone was shouting at me to come down! I was up there.’ he waved towards the mountain, ‘you should have seen the snow storm!’

‘If you want to come out with me,’ Dorje shouted dourly, ‘you follow me and don’t do silly things; otherwise I won’t take you out again. Come on now,’ he grabbed Toga’s hand and yanked him up the path. At the top of the cliff a wide ledge sloped gently up to another sheer wall of rock. No one knew if the cave was natural or if it had been dug out of the cliff, either way it was perfectly situated for a stream of icy water gushed from the cliff and tinkled into a rocky pool before disappearing over the precipice.

Dorje pushed aside a ragged skin that was hung across the entrance and peeked inside; it was very dark except where a ray of light hit the floor through the gap. He could just make out the shape of a man sitting cross-legged, perfectly still. Before Dorje could stop him, Toga barged in.

‘Anyone in?’ he yelled.