On a trek of the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal, I came upon a vendor of cheap souvenirs — bracelets, necklaces, statuettes, scarfs — seated on the ground beside the trail. His wares were spread on a blanket in front of him, and he was spinning a handheld prayer wheel.
He had the kind of handsome, angular face that jangled my creative juices. Whipping out my sketch book, I asked permission to draw him.
He nodded his assent and, as if familiar with the exercise, kept still except for the continued twirling of his prayer wheel.
When I had completed my sketch several minutes later, he asked to see it. I obliged with the expectation that he would be impressed with my facility. But this gentleman was clearly disappointed — to my dismay.
I turned to the trek guide, who witnessed the execution of my sketch, to inquire why the subject seemed sad. He said something to the vendor and relayed the gentleman’s reply. “You left out his prayer wheel.”
Rather than try to explain that it was the man’s face that commanded my attention and his prayer wheel would only have been a distraction, I mustered my limited Nepali and, with the help of hand gestures, and said, “In Nepal, many prayer wheels, only one you.”
That was 17 years ago, and I can still see the smile of delight that came over the fellow’s face and feel the warmth in his, “Namaste.”
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