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The Roerichs landed in Bombay in December, 1923, and began a tour of cultural centers and historic sites, meeting Indian scientists, scholars, artists, and writers along the way. By the end of December they were already in Sikkim on the southern slopes of the Himalayas, and it is clear by the speed with which they reached the mountains that the Himalayas were where their interest lay.
They initiated a journey of exploration that would take them into Chinese Turkestan, Altai, Mongolia and Tibet. It was an expedition into untracked regions where they planned to study the religions, languages, customs, and culture of the inhabitants.
Roerich wrote about this first Central Asiatic Expedition in his book Heart of Asia, and he creates for the reader a vivid account of the wonder of the land and its people. However, the images are nowhere as vivid as in the five hundred or so paintings that resulted from the trek. In Kanchenjunga, Sikkim Pass, His Country, The Great Spirit of the Himalayas, and the Banners of the East series, we can see philosophical concepts and ideas giving birth to visual images, and the splendor of Northern India providing the physical setting.
In The Path, the figure of Christ leads the way along a tortuous path through crags and peaks of the Himalayas, a metaphor for the hazardous obstacles confronting the spiritual journeyer. Eastern religious figures and concepts appear in the paintings, important among these being the images of the Lord Maitreya — the Buddhist Messiah, the Kalki-Avatar of the Puranas, Rigden Jyepo of Mongolia, or the White Burkhan of Altai — all of whom are described in legends that link them with the Ruler of Shambhala, who is “destined to appear on earth for the final destruction of the wicked, the renovation of creation and the restoration of purity.”(quoted from The Theosophical Glossary, by H. P. Blavatsky)
The trek was at times arduous. Roerich tells us that thirty-five mountain passes from fourteen to twenty-one thousand feet in elevation were crossed. But these were the challenges he felt born for, believing that the rigor of the mountains helped a man to find courage and develop strength of spirit. And in spite of obstacles, wherever they went the Roerichs' belief in the essential goodness of life and the spirituality of man was reinforced. Roerich's Banners of the East series of nineteen paintings depicting the world's religious teachers, Mohammed, Jesus, Moses, Confucius, and Buddha, and the Indian and Christian saints and sages, was a testimonial to the unity of religious striving and the common roots of man's faith.
At counterpoint to these themes in Roerich's painting is the image of Woman and her destined role in the coming era, and we can assume that what Helena Roerich wrote to a friend in 1937 reflects Nicholas' own point of view: “...woman should realize that she herself contains all forces, and the moment she shakes off the age-old hypnosis of her seemingly lawful subjugation and mental inferiority and occupies herself with a manifold education, she will create in collaboration with man a new and better world... Cosmos affirms the greatness of woman's creative principle. Woman is a personification of nature, and it is nature that teaches man, not man nature. Therefore, may all women realize the grandeur of their origin, and may they strive for knowledge.” (published in Letters of Helena Roerich 1935-1939, vol. II)
Nicholas Roerich depicted the great female deities in such paintings as She Who Leads, Madonna Laboris, and The Mother of the World. This latter conception, equivalent to the Lakshmi and Kali of India, is one of Roerich's most inspiring images, rendered with majesty in deep tones of blue and violet. Helena Roerich's contribution in the life and work of Nicholas cannot be overestimated. Their union could be best described as a lifetime collaboration in fields of mutual endeavor. Her philosophy, comprising a living ethic, was shared by Nicholas and motivated him in his work and his life. At some time in their late years an anniversary approached and he wrote in his diary: “Forty years — no less than forty. On such a long voyage, meeting many storms and dangers from without, together we overcame all obstacles. And obstacles turned into possibilities. I dedicated my books to Helena, my wife, friend, traveling companion, inspirer! Each of these concepts was tested in the fire of life. And in Petersburg, Scandinavia, England, America, and in all Asia we worked, we studied, we broadened our consciousness. Together we created, and not without reason is it said that the work should bear two names — a feminine and a masculine.”
At the end of their major expedition, in 1928, the family settled in the Kullu Valley at an elevation of 6,500 feet in the Himalayan foothills, with a magnificent view of the valley and the surrounding mountains. Here they established their home and the headquarters of the Urusvati Himalayan Research Institute, which was organized to study the results of their expedition, and of those explorations that were yet to come. The Institute's activities included botanical and ethnological-linguistic studies, and the exploration of archeological sites. Under the direction of their father the two Roerich sons, George and Svetoslav, established a collection of medicinal herbs, and made extensive studies in botany and ancient medical lore, as well as in Tibetan and Chinese pharmacopoeia.
In the following year, on a trip back to New York for the opening of the Roerich Museum's new premises, Roerich raised an issue that had been close to his heart for many years. Using the Red Cross as an example, he proposed a treaty for the protection of cultural treasures during times of both war and peace — a proposal he had unsuccessfully tried to promote in 1914. In consultation with lawyers versed in international law, he drafted a Pact, and suggested that a flag would be flown over all places under its protection. This flag he called the Banner of Peace. The design of the Banner shows three spheres surrounded by a circle, in magenta color on a white background. Of the many national and individual interpretations of this symbol, the most usual are perhaps those of Religion, Art and Science as aspects of Culture, which is the surrounding circle; or of past, present, and future achievements of humanity guarded within the circle of Eternity. The symbol can be seen in the seal of Tamerlane, in Tibetan, Caucasian, and Scandinavian jewelry, and on Byzantine and Roman artifacts. The image of the Strasbourg Madonna is adorned with it. It can be seen in many of Roerich's paintings, most notably Madonna Oriflamma, in which Woman is depicted as the carrier and defender of the Banner. In this sign and the motto, Pax Cultura, that accompanies it, is symbolized Roerich's vision for humanity. As he wrote: “Let us be united — you will ask in what way? You will agree with me: in the easiest way, to create a common and sincere language. Perhaps in Beauty and Knowledge.” Roerich's efforts to promulgate such a treaty resulted, finally, on April 15, 1935, in the signing by the nations of the Americas — members of the Pan American Union — of The Roerich Pact, in the White House in Washington. This is a treaty still in force. Many individuals, groups, and associations around the world continue to promote awareness of the Pact, the Banner, and their underlying principles.
It is in his Himalayan paintings that one most easily finds evidence of the loftiness of spirit and sense of mission that led Roerich to attempt the tasks he set for himself. In them can be seen the sense of drama, the urgency of a message to send or receive, a traveler to greet, a mission to perform, a path to travel. The towering mountains stand for the spiritual goals that humanity must set for itself. Roerich urges people on to their spiritual destiny and reminds them of their duty to prepare for the New Era in which Rigden Jyepo will gather his army and under the Banner of Light defeat the host of darkness. Roerich the warrior was already armed and mounted; he sought to muster his army for the battle, and bid that their breastplates bear the word “culture.”
The pursuit of refinement and beauty was sacred for Roerich. He believed that although earthly temples and artifacts may perish, the thought that brings them into existence does not die but is part of an eternal stream of consciousness — man's aspirations nourished by his directed will and by the energy of thought. Finally, he believed that peace on Earth was a prerequisite to planetary survival and the continuing process of spiritual evolution, and he exhorted his fellow man to help achieve that peace by uniting in the common language of Beauty and Knowledge.
Nicholas Roerich died in Kullu on December 13, 1947. His body was cremated and its ashes buried on a slope facing the mountains he loved and portrayed in many of his nearly seven thousand works.

Capitolo 1
Il cuore dell’Asia batte o è soffocato dalla sabbia?

Dal Brahmaputra all’Irtysh, dal Fiume Giallo al Mar Caspio, da Mukden all’Arabia, è tutto un impietoso, terribile susseguirsi di onde di sabbia. Il crudele Taklamakan è una minacciosa apoteosi di morte, che indebolisce la parte centrale dell’Asia. L’antica strada imperiale cinese è nascosta dalle dune mobili; i tronchi di quella che una volta fu una possente foresta alzano al cielo le loro braccia rinsecchite da colline sabbiose; come scheletri deformi, i muri di antiche città divorati dal tempo si allungano a lato della strada.
Forse proprio qui vicino passarono i grandi viaggiatori, le nazioni migratrici: qui e là l’occhio cattura isolati kereksur, menhir, cromlech, e pietre allineate, silenti guardiani di culti antichi.
Senza alcun dubbio le terre estreme dell’Asia combattono una gigantesca battaglia con le maree degli oceani, ma è vivo, il cuore dell’Asia? Quando gli yogi indù fermano le loro pulsazioni, il loro cuore continua a svolgere le sue funzioni interne. E così è per il cuore dell’Asia: nelle oasi, nelle yurte, nelle carovane, ancora vive un pensiero caratteristico; queste masse che vivono in assoluto isolamento rispetto al mondo esterno e ricevono pochi e distorti messaggi degli eventi che in esso si svolgono, e dopo molti mesi, non sono morte: come vedremo, esse accolgono ogni segno di civiltà come un messaggio positivo, da molto tempo atteso; invece di respingere le possibilità, questa gente cerca di adattare la sua religione alle nuove condizioni di vita, come vediamo chiaramente ascoltando le opinioni delle genti dei deserti più remoti sui capi del mondo civile e sulle ideologie umanitarie.
Il nome di Ford, ad esempio, è penetrato fin nelle più remote yurte e province; tra le sabbie del Taklamakan, un musulmano dalla lunga barba mi chiede:
«Dimmi, una Ford supererebbe la vecchia strada cinese?»
E vicino a Kashgar mi chiedono:
«Un trattore Ford può arare i nostri campi?»
Nella cinese Urumchi, fra le steppe dei Calmucchi, in Mongo-lia, la parola “Ford” è sinonimo di forza meccanica. Un Antico Credente delle selvagge montagne dell’Altai, un uomo con la barba grigia, e anche un giovane della cooperativa dicono con invidia:
«Voi, in America, avete Ford. Noi no»; oppure:
«Se soltanto Ford fosse qui».
Anche sulle alte terre tibetane, la gente sogna di trasportare i pezzi di una macchina Ford su per i passi di montagna. Mentre attraversano fiumi possenti, chiedono:

«Ma la vostra Ford, ce la farebbe?», e scalando ripidi pendii, ancora:
«E una Ford, si arrampicherebbe fin quassù?», come se parlassero di un mitico gigante che può superare tutti gli ostacoli.
Ma un altro nome americano è penetrato fin nelle terre più remote: in un lontanissimo punto dell’Altai, nella capanna di un contadino, nell’angolo più venerato della casa, dove venivano tenute le immagini sacre, potreste riconoscere un volto familiare, un ritratto ingiallito dal tempo, presumibilmente ritagliato da una rivista. A ben guardarlo, scoprireste che si tratta proprio del presidente Hoover.
L’Antico Credente dice:
«È lui che dà da mangiare al popolo; sì, esistono persone rare, notevoli, che non soltanto nutrono la loro nazione, ma anche altre genti. Sebbene la bocca del popolo non sia piccola».
Il vecchio non ha mai ricevuto una razione di sussistenza americana, ma la leggenda vivente ha attraversato i fiumi e le montagne proclamando la generosità del gigante di buon cuore, che distribuisce cibo e nutre le nazioni del mondo.
Non ci si sarebbe mai aspettato che notizie del mondo esterno potessero penetrare oltre i confini della Mongolia, ma in una yurta derelitta, un mongolo vi racconterà di un grand’uomo che vive da qualche parte, al di là dell’oceano, e nutre quelli che muoiono di fame. Pronuncerà il suo nome in un modo un po’ strano, che vagamente ricorderà Hoover o Koovera, la divinità buddhista dell’abbondanza e della buona fortuna. Nei posti più inattesi, il viaggiatore che conosce la lingua locale può imbattersi in affascinanti leggende sui grandi che lavorano per il bene comune.
Attraverso le Istituzioni Rockefeller, anche il nome di Rockefeller ha raggiunto città lontanissime. Fiere e soddisfatte, le persone parlano della loro collaborazione con queste istituzioni e di come, a loro volta, ne sono state aiutate. La generosità di questa mano americana ha creato un senso diretto e vasto di gratitudine e amicizia.
Il quarto nome che emerge culturalmente fino ad essere conosciuto nella vastità dell’Asia, è quello del senatore Borah; una sua lettera è considerata ovunque un buon passaporto. Talvolta in Mongolia, o nell’Altai, o nel Turkestan cinese, può accadervi di sentire il suo nome storpiato: «Boria è un uomo potente!»

Così, la saggezza popolare tiene in gran conto i leader dei nostri tempi. E questo per noi ha un grande valore, è prezioso sapere che l’evoluzione umana, in modi inspiegabili, compenetra il futuro.

La bandiera americana ci accompagnava ovunque, legata ad una lancia mongola; ci ha accompagnato nel Sinkiang, nel Gobi mongolo, nello Tsaidam, e in Tibet. È stata il nostro stendardo durante l’incontro con i selvaggi Panagi; ha accolto principi, governatori tibetani e i loro generali; ha incontrato molti amici, e ben pochi nemici, e anche quei pochi erano di un tipo speciale: ad esempio, il governatore della fortezza settentrionale del Tibet, Nagchu, convinto che ci fossero al mondo soltanto sette nazioni; e Ma, il Tao-tai del Khotan, un ignorante totale, famoso solo per i suoi assassinii.

Gli amici, invece, sono stati molti: se soltanto l’Occidente potesse vedere con quale grande interesse sono state esaminate le fotografie dei grattacieli di New York, con quanta avidità la gente ci ha ascoltato raccontare dell’America, gli Occidentali sarebbero felici nel constatare che queste masse di persone semplici sono attratte dalle realizzazioni culturali.