The people of White Ling gather and agree with his plan.
This gives rise to the Saga of the Precious Wheel.
FIRST OF ALL, to invoke the wisdom intent of the one to subdue the evil Düd, the yoke upon the Yellow Hor, the destined savior of the black-haired Tibetans, the supreme being of Jambudvīpa, Gesar Norbu Dradül himself, was called forth from the higher gods, supplicated by the humans of the middle realm and assisted by the nāgas of the lower realm. He was born as the son of the union of the three: nāga, nyen, and humans in Eastern Upper Sparkling Ling in Kyidsö Yag-gi Khado.
While still a child, until he was five years old, in the Dri and Dza valleys, he bound by oath all the formless beings of the dark side. Then when he reached six years of age, his uncontrived yogic conduct caused the people of White Ling to lose faith in him. At the age of eight, he settled the land of Ma, overcame White Ling, captured the Chinese and Tibetan merchants, and emptied the place of the pikas. Given that the predetermined time had not yet arrived, the dralas and wermas of Ling influenced the minds of the people of Ling. Because of that, the devotion they once had toward the joyful awakened sublime being Joru as their guru was now scarce; their respect for him as a lineage chieftain had waned, and they hardly retained any love for him even as a relative. So he [was banished] to Yulung Sumdo in Lower Ma, the place where demons twirl their batons of fate, and tsen throw their dice and stones; the place where menmoa perform the dramas of their dances. It is there that he remained with his mind dwelling in unchanging luminosity. He would reveal myriad nirmāṇakāya emanations at once, emanation bodies that could be seen by the disciples according to what was necessary for them to see. During the day he joked around with humans; in the evening he shot craps with the tsen; and at night he challenged the demons to games of dice. He [Joru] ran races with the gods and conversed with the demons. When he reached the age of twelve, in the year of the Earth Horse, toward dawn on the eighth day of the Iron Tiger month, Auntie Nammen Karmo appeared to him, riding upon a white lioness, accompanied by a hundred thousand clairvoyant ḍākinīs. And she sang this prophecy to Joru:
The song is Ala Ala Ala
And Thala Thala Thala.
Ala is the source of the lyrics
And Thala is the melody of the song.
Now then, Joru, divine child,
Listen to your auntie’s song.
In this vast plain of patterned fields
Blue-green stalks of grain have shot up;
Unless they are adorned with a good harvest
The shoots are nothing but forage,
Their burgeoning growth of no avail.
In the high azure tent of the sky
The constellations glitter;
Unless they are beautified by the full moon,
The stars are merely guides in the darkness,
Their many clusters of no use.
In the land of Colorful Sparkling Ling,
Those myriad magical emanations of Joru,
Unless you take your place as a chief of White Ling,
Will merely add further scandal [to your name].
It is as if your signs of accomplishment were merely to one-up your paternal uncle.
The supreme horse of the land of Uḍḍiyāṇa
Is in the northern wilderness of the kyangs;
It is the same age as you, young Joru.
If you do not take possession of it this year,
The horse may vanish in a rainbow body.
Your wife, ordained by the gods,
Is to be Kyalo’s Sengcham Drugmo.
Unless she becomes your bride this year,
There is the risk that she will marry Tag-rong’s son.
If she weds him, the gate to your enlightened deeds will be disturbed.
Tomorrow in the predawn light,
Bring down to Mazhi Chieftain Trothung
A false prophecy from Hayagrīva,
Which says to Tag-rong that he must host a festive gathering of the brethren,
And that, if he wagers that the rider of the fastest steed
Will gain the position of chief and win Drugmo and a treasure trove,
It is then certain that Turquoise Bird will break the silken ribbon first
And Trothung will become the master of the bride Drugmo.
You must capture the steed with the lasso of great emptiness13
And acquire the fairest of maidens through myriad emanations.
It’s best to tan a mighty tiger’s skin;
Do not damage it for it will be useful as an ornament for the six smiles.14
If you understand this, it’s sweet to the ears.
If not, there is no way to explain it.
Thus she sang, and Joru thought, “The only time my true form appeared to anyone was when my mother saw me at birth, for otherwise I am concealed like a lotus encased in mud, sitting here with this poor attire and this ugly body. Indeed, this alone will not bring benefit to others. Although the time may have arrived for my true form to appear, I still need to perform many unconventional yogic activities in order to gain the kingship with my horse [Noble Steed].”
Joru knew that before he could manifest the rūpakāya, he must join the festive horse race. Trothung was staying in solitary retreat15 in the Ancient Black Fortress,16 and as he was diligently engaged in the approach and accomplishment practices,17 visualizing Red Hayagrīva in the single-pointed mirror of his mind, at about midnight on the ninth day, Joru manifested to Trothung as a crow. He proclaimed this false prophecy like a garland of lightning. In a state of altered awareness, this is what Trothung heard intermingled with dreaming, meditating, and wakefulness:
It’s Ala Ala Ala.
Thala is the melody of the song.
This land is called Be’u-tag Dzong [Tiger Gem Fortress].
If you want to know who I am,
I am the Red Hayagrīva.
Don’t sleep! Do you understand, Chief Tag-rong?
According to an ancient Tibetan proverb:
That which waits for the southern clouds verging on seasonal rains
Are the patterned fields.
Until the blue grain has covered the earth,
The seasonal rains must be delayed.
It does not matter whether the winter snow falls or not.
The one who is pursuing the blessings of Red Hayagrīva
Is King Trothung of Tag-rong.
Until the great goal is in the palm of your hand,
The prophecy must be delayed.
It does not matter whether you listen to a false prophecy or not.
Beginning tomorrow morning,
The brethren of White Ling will gather
In a festival, without regard to high or low station
And the Tag-rong family must prepare for the occasion.
Kyalo’s Sengcham Drugmo,
The treasure trove of the sevenfold jewels,
And the throne of colorful Ling;
These you must wager on the rider of the fastest steed.
The bridegroom of Sengcham Drugmo,
And the one who will attain the honorable golden throne,
Can be none other than Tag-rong.
Among the thirty karmically destined horses of the brethren of Ling
The fastest steed will open the great pathway.
That can be none other than Turquoise Bird.
Waste no doubt on this prophecy.
The best among men who place trust in their gods
Will turn out as certain as the rising of the sun in the azure firmament.
The middling among men who place trust in their chieftain
Will turn out free to stay in whatever land makes them happy.
The inferior among men who place trust in a wicked woman
Will only be brought down, since a wicked woman and a river never move upward.
If you understood these words, hold them in your mind,
If not, there is no way to further explain this prediction.
It’s Ala Ala Ala.
It’s Thala Thala Thala.
May the Gekhongc secret assembly of deities
Lead this song of Tag-rong.
In case you don’t recognize this place,
It is Raven Heart Fortress.
I am the chieftain Trogyal of Tag-rong,
And this song is in the tune of Harmin Hur.
I would not sing this song, if it were not an important occasion.
Don’t sleep! Do you understand, Lady of the Golden Lake?
There is no benefit for one who sleeps.
How could there be? Just look at a stone.
A piece of solid rock just lies there and becomes encrusted with dirt,
A tree trunk just lies there and its roots rot.
If the fatherly guru lies there, the dharma activities will be idle.
If the honorable dear chieftain lies there, the lawful decisions will be idle.
If the tigers in their prime lie there, the enemy will rear its head.
If a maiden lies there, she will be expelled from the household.
This morning during my early meditation session
The Northern God [Hayagrīva] gave me a prophetic pronouncement
To gather the brethren of the six provinces
And the people of White Ling to a festival.
He said that I, Tag-rong, must be the host.
And that if the golden throne, the treasure trove, and Drugmo as well
Are the stakes wagered on the rider of the fastest steed,
The winner will be the bridegroom of Kyalo’s Sengcham,
And will take his seat upon the golden throne.
This will be none other than I, Tag-rong.
Personal power and precious gold—
The more you have them, the higher you go;
Both belong above to ornament your head.
Shameless friends and dirty boots—
The more you have them, the lower you go;
Leave them behind when you reach the gate.
I have even more analogies if you want them:
If you reach for something, don’t let your hand be clumsy;
If you run somewhere, don’t let your knees tremble.
The great flag of divine accomplishment
Must not be stained by corruption.
The stainless white copper pot of auspicious connection
Must be not be tarnished by the verdigris of samaya violation.
Don’t sleep, quickly prepare for the festivities.
Get numbers of yak loads of sweet cakes
And prepare a hundred lamb carcasses.
There must be an inexhaustible supply of potent drink,
And the three types of teas called flower tea, milk tea, and highland tea.
Present them in the copper pot Tashi Kyilwa
And flavor them with white salt from the north.
Make them rich with the essence of the third summer’s milk.
When the treasure wealth of a great chieftain
Is kept, it doesn’t increase; but when given away, it does.
The food and clothes of one without merit
Need not be worn to wear out or eaten to run out.
[In the same way],
If you meet up with your true love,
There is no way to still be concerned about the cherished wealth.
If you understand this, it is sweet to your ears.
If you don’t, there’s no way to explain it.
Thus he sang, and Denza thought carefully, “It’s well known that Gogmo’s Joru was ordained by the gods to be the destined bridegroom of Drugmo, the master of Kyalo’s wealth, and the chief of White Ling; Tag-rong will not seize all of this. This prophetic vision of Trothung’s seems to be the magical deception of Joru. Even though he probably won’t give ear to my honest speech, I must try to speak out so that I will have no future regrets.” With this in mind, she sang this song:
It’s Ala Ala Ala
And Thala Thala Thala.
If you don’t know this place,
This place is the castle of Tag-rong.
If you don’t recognize me,
I am the daughter of the king of Den
And the housewife of Chief Tag-rong.
Although I don’t know the prophecy of the Northern God,
If I guessed, I’ll bet I could get it right.
Here in the Ancient Black Fortress
That hoarse caw of the midnight raven18
Seems to be either a magical illusion of the māras
Or the neurotic upheavals of godly demons;
That cannot be called a prophetic vision.
When samādhi is lacking during sleeping,
How can there be a true prophecy in the dream state?
When just arising from bed with no daily practice,
How can the face of the meditation deity appear?
This seems not to be a prophetic vision but
A false demonic prophecy set up by Joru.
Ill omens are misfortune’s guide,
So I choose not to prepare for such an occasion.
According to the well-known ancient saying:
Going to bed commends us to the fall of darkness,
The period of darkness commends sentient beings to slumber,
Getting out of bed commends us to the white sun,
And daytime commends us to our daily chores.
These are called the fourfold commends of humankind.
When Chieftain King Trothung
Is chased from behind by desire,
He can’t wait for the darkness of nightfall to enter his bed;
When you are led around by your obstacles,
You can’t even wait for sunrise to get up.
Don’t let it be like this; tonight just rest;
When the sun rises, early tomorrow morning,
You can discuss matters and decide what must be done.
First, Anu Zigphen of Tag-rong,
Second, Dongtsen Nang-ngu Apel [Mighty Youthful Glory of the Tribe]19
And third, young son Nya-tsha Aten.
Headed by these three brothers,
The ministers of Tag-rong, like a colorful tiger’s lair,
Should gather to see if their minds are in accord;
If the minds of men and divine prophecy concur,
Then I will consider planning for the festival.
But still, here are a few analogies to consider:
The white garuḍa dzo, appointed to carry
A burden of six loads of tea,
Had better know exactly how to bear the load.
The noble stallion appointed to run,
Saddle and bridle inseparable from its body,
Had better know exactly how to proceed.
Since you, King Trothung, have been appointed to receive the
Northern God’s messages,
By now you have received many a prophecy;
You’d better know exactly what siddhis you get from this.
If my song has brought confusion, I confess the fault.
If my speech has been meaningless, I beg your forgiveness.
When the song was finished, she sat herself down. Although Denza’s words bore some weight with Trothung, his desire for Drugmo surpassed that, for Drugmo’s countenance was so mesmerizing that he was constantly losing his eyes to her face and his mind to her body. Even though he did not intentionally try to think of her, her form appeared vividly in his mind. Not only that, Hayagrīva’s prophec
y seemed to promise that he would also gain great siddhis, which was just what Trothung was hoping for, and above all, the dralas and wermas brought down great blessings of desire for Drugmo in the minds of not only Trothung but all other brethren as well. When they went to bed they were unable to sleep, and when they got up they were so distracted that they all suffered indigestion. He began to wonder if everyone would wager on this race or not. If so, then from among the thirty karmically destined horses of the brethren of White Ling, the one who will be the winner of the race is none other than Turquoise Bird, who is the fastest steed and the mount to open up the great pathway. Trothung thought these words must surely be true. Therefore there is no doubt that Turquoise Bird will be the first to break the silken ribbon. He thought that, once Drugmo was brought into his home, it would no longer be possible for him to stay there with Denza, so he felt he should sever their relationship immediately by blaming her for trying to ruin the auspicious connection of the prophecy. “Besides,” he thought, “if I were to cast Denza out after Drugmo had already arrived in my home, people would say that I, Trothung, had no conscience and that Drugmo was a brainless [that is, careless and thoughtless] girl. An enormous scandal would ensue.”
Having thought about it, Trothung spoke to Denza, “Now, you quarrelsome bitch, you’ve struck the golden stupa of this prophecy with your ax of evil words, and you’ve tossed the ashes of your false omens in the face of the dralas of auspicious connection. This chief of Tag-rong cares for you no longer,” he said, and sang this song:
It’s Ala Ala Ala,
And Thala is the melody of the song.
God of the North, Red Hayagrīva, know me.
Assist Tag-rong in his song
And see that I get whatever I want.
Denza, your poisonous tongue is always flapping.
Listen, here are some analogies for you to consider.
Your mind is so deluded you think that the compassion of the imperial gods is unclear
And that you, Denza, know more.
The Epic of Gesar of Ling Page 40