Born in Tibet

by Marco Pallis

  Soon after this, Apho Karma took me back to the retreat center of Dorje Khyung Dzong, as he had decided that it was now time to change my subjects of study. He wished me to give short sermons to the monks and laymen there; among them was the king of Lhathok’s son whose father had been instrumental in procuring the tenth Trungpa Tulku’s release from his imprisonment during some local troubles.

  By the year 1949 conditions in East Tibet were becoming increasingly confused. In China there had been fighting between the Nationalists and Communists resulting in the victory of the latter. However, news travels slowly in Tibet and the Tibetans in Nyishu-tsa-nga province, who supported the Nationalists, were still on their way to help their allies, taking with them about a thousand horses and much food, wool, cloth, and skins. When they reached Siling they found the Communists in possession and were forced to hand everything over to them. The Communists took this opportunity to make large-scale propaganda; they filmed the Tibetans in the act of handing over these things as if this was a voluntary gift; a large banquet was arranged which was also filmed in such a way as to show the friendly feeling existing between Communists and Tibetans.

  Three months later we heard that three Communist officials had arrived in Jyekundo the principal trading center of our province. They had been put in charge of the town as well as the whole district of Nyishu-tsa-nga, which includes Surmang. Since they were unarmed and did not interfere much at the start, both parties remained seemingly on friendly terms, though the Tibetans were still distrustful. Two months later the senior Communist official started to offer suggestions. He would say, “The offerings at your shrines are a waste of food; you should eat more plentifully and spend what you have, rather than hoard. In future you will not have such freedom. You must realize this.”

  It was later discovered that this man was actually in the Nationalist secret service, as was his brother in China, but when he heard that the latter had been caught, he himself escaped to India.

  About this time, my mother left her husband at Dekyil and came to live near Dütsi Tel. She helped a sister of the tenth Trungpa Rinpoche with the dairy work; she could not come inside the monastery but I was able to go out to see her, and she brought me milk, cream, and curds about once a fortnight. A year or so later her husband died and she never went back to her village.

  Since I was now eleven years old I had to spend my time on more advanced work. I was called back to Dütsi Tel to take the bodhisattva vow although I had already taken it informally at the time of the wangkur. The vow is as follows:

  In the presence of all the buddhas and bodhisattvas and of my teacher Rölpa Dorje, I vow to proceed toward enlightenment. I accept all creatures as my father and mother with infinite compassion. Henceforth for their benefit I will practice the transcendental virtues (paramitas) of liberality, discipline, patience, diligence, meditative concentration, wisdom (prajna), skillful means (upaya), spiritual power, aspiration, gnosis (jnana). Let my master accept me as a future buddha, but as remaining a boddhisattva without entering nirvana so long as a single blade of grass remains unenlightened.

  Instead of returning to Dorje Khyung Dzong, Apho Karma took me to Dechen Chöling, Rölpa Dorje’s retreat center, for I was now to study directly under him. His appearance was unusual, for he was quite bald with a trimly pointed beard. He was very strict on keeping all rules and insisted about the need for scholastic accuracy; at rites he officiated with the greatest competence, and he had exceptional knowledge about the art of chanting. But with all this strictness, he was very gentle and understanding and always seemed to be happy in his retreat surrounded by bird and animal life; much of his time he spent in writing.

  The center for retreats stood on the slope of a mountain looking over the valley below and the mountains beyond it. Willows and scented juniper were dotted about the grass-covered hillside. The retreat was at a high altitude, and nearly every morning the mists would wreath the slopes, obscuring the valley below; Tulku Rölpa Dorje sometimes called it the Garden of the Mists. I very much enjoyed this change, and so did Apho Karma, who had himself studied under the regent abbot.

  Rölpa Dorje lived by himself in a beautiful cave with the front walled in to form a cell; he had painted the inside a soft orange color, and had stuck small pictures cut out of books or small woodprints on some of the surfaces, and had hewed cupboards in the walls; at one side there was a shrine of sculptured stone. Among his ornaments was a collection of small religious pieces which he would allow me to play with. The cave was complete with its own little kitchen, for Rölpa Dorje preferred to look after himself. Stone steps led steeply down from the cave to the retreat center which was some way down.

  Usually, only four monks lived in the center for their four-year period of retreat, but there were houses nearby from which some fifteen other monks could attend the course, while at the back of the mountain, in another small valley, a nunnery had been established, mainly used as a retreat center for some forty nuns, but also serving a number of lay disciples.

  * * *

  At Dechen Chöling Apho Karma put me to more advanced general studies and also gave me some lessons in the art of poetry; Rölpa Dorje took over my instruction in primary Buddhist metaphysics. He thought that I should now begin ngöndro (the “prelude”), as an introduction for further understanding of vajrayana. This preparation for spiritual development includes:

  1. 100,000 full prostrations

  2. 100,000 recitations of the triple refuge

  3. 100,000 recitations of the Vajrasattva mantra

  4. 100,000 symbolic offerings

  5. Finally 100,000 recitations of the mantra of guru yoga, or “Union with the Teacher”

  At the same time five subjects must be contemplated:

  1. The rare privilege given to one to receive spiritual teaching in this life

  2. The impermanence attaching to life and to everything else

  3. The cause and effect of karma

  4. The understanding of suffering

  5. The necessity for devotion

  I was deeply affected by all this; living in this place, studying these teachings, and constantly meditating, I began to develop greater depths of understanding, as a preparation for the way of life that lay ahead of me.

  One day while I was engrossed in this teaching, and actually in the act of meditation and prostration, my secretary Chandzö Kargyen suddenly appeared to tell us that Chinese troops were approaching our monastery. We had heard months before that there was a number of troops in Jyekundo, though until now they had not been seen beyond the town. Chandzö Kargyen had had a message that they were in occupation at Namgyal Tse, but owing to its being three days’ journey from Dütsi Tel, this news had not been confirmed, nor did he know if the monastery was still standing or not; he had come at once to warn us. This sudden movement of troops might mean that the Chinese were about to use force in order to occupy the whole of Tibet. Since we were already under Chinese control, this new move seemed suspicious; could it mean that they intended to destroy all the monasteries and towns and to capture the important people in every district? We held a consultation; a second messenger arrived to tell us that on the route the Communists had followed no villages or monasteries had been disturbed as the army had only marched through. He brought with him a large poster which the Communists were distributing all over the district. Under the signature of the commander-in-chief, it said that the Red Army was coming to help the Tibetans; they would do no damage and would respect the feudal system and the religion of the people.

  We decided that though the Communists were apparently not intending to harm us, it would be wise to safeguard the treasures of our monastery by storing them in a more secure place. If it became necessary we could escape ourselves, for transport was ready at hand; after this, my secretary went back to Dütsi Tel. For a couple of days all seemed quiet; only the herdsmen had seen the Chinese troops as a string of lights silently passing the village in single file in the darkness. In the morn
ing when Apho Karma went out to collect firewood, he could see the campfires all around in the valley. He waited until I had finished my meditation and was having breakfast and then told me what he had seen; when the sun came out we could distinguish the glint on the soldiers’ packs as the long file went farther afield. Any visitors who came to see us told us how the Chinese had always paid for anything that they had requisitioned, and that the troops looked in very poor condition and seemed to be short of food, but also to have plenty of silver money. They continued to pass through day after day on their way to Chamdo, and though they met with some resistance from the troops under a gallant officer called Muja Depön near Lathog, they brushed it aside. Surmang had been asked to provide them with guides, but managed to evade doing so. It was all very worrying.

  FIVE

  In the Steps of the Tenth Trungpa

  EVER SINCE Jamgön Kongtrül of Sechen had visited Dütsi Tel when I was nine years old, his presence had been foremost in my mind. He had planted a spiritual seed; I wanted to go to him for extended teaching, and while I was at Rölpa Dorje’s center I had felt more strongly than ever that the time had now come for me to go to my guru.

  At the end of the year I returned to Dütsi Tel with Apho Karma; the lamas seemed satisfied with my studies and as I was nearly twelve, they encouraged me to be more independent over deciding what I wanted to do. I spoke to Apho Karma about my wish to go to Jamgön Kongtrül, for I knew that the monastic committee was thinking that I should go on the traditional tour to meet people in the district. However, he gave me no direction, and only said that the decision for what I would do must come from myself.

  I was invited to the retreat center of Dorje Khyung Dzong for the New Year. It was a very quiet and spiritual atmosphere, but I felt a little disturbed thinking about the decision I would so soon have to make. The venerable Karma Tendzin was the superior (druppön) there; he had been a devoted disciple of my predecessor and had known me for many years, as had most of the senior monks at the center. I asked him to advise me, but he impressed upon me that I was now old enough to think for myself. Just then, the venerable Togden Tsepten was on a visit to the center, who had not only received teaching from the tenth Trungpa Tulku, but had been his constant companion and server and was with him at his death; so I put my problem before him, and his answer was to tell me in great detail much of the life story of my predecessor.

  THE STORY OF THE TENTH TRUNGPA TULKU RINPOCHE

  The tenth Trungpa Tulku had been given a very strict training from boyhood to prepare him for the duties of supreme abbot of Surmang. At nineteen he attained his majority, being considered ready to take full responsibility for the government of the abbey although he would still be under guidance to some extent. He realized that in order to develop his own spirituality, being thereby enabled to lead others, he must have further training in meditation, which he saw was more important than administering his monastery.

  He felt a compelling urge to receive teaching from Jamgön Kongtrül Rinpoche, for when he was quite young he had heard the name of this great guru mentioned and had been suddenly stirred by a recollection that he had been in a spiritual relationship with him in a former life. The monastic committee, however, had other plans for him; they wanted him first to work for Surmang, it being customary in Tibet that when an abbot reached manhood, he should tour the district and give his blessing to the people; during such a tour he would be invited to preach and to perform rites; he would receive many gifts, and the fame and wealth of his monastery would be increased. Though the tenth Trungpa neither liked nor approved of this procedure, he nevertheless felt obliged to follow the wishes of his senior advisors, so he set off on the tour accompanied by his bursar, while his secretary remained in charge of Dütsi Tel.

  The tour was very successful and brought in many donations for Surmang. This greatly encouraged the bursar, for since the death of the ninth incarnate abbot twenty years had passed, during which the monastery had received very few offerings; it needed material help. So Trungpa Tulku was persuaded to go on another tour the next year; this should have lasted for three months, but about halfway through he felt he could no longer delay going to see his guru.

  From babyhood he had been told about Jamgön Kongtrül; how he had been brought up by the abbot of Palpung Monastery as his spiritual son. As he grew older he had wanted to obtain wider instruction and had traveled for many years, visiting over one hundred gurus of all the schools of Buddhism to be found in Tibet. On his return to Palpung visitors came from all parts of the country to receive instruction from him, for which purpose he established a center near the monastery where he himself composed over eighty volumes of scholarly and spiritual precepts. Before the abbot of Palpung died, he appointed Jamgön Kongtrül to be the spiritual leader of the line of the Karma Kagyü school.

  At the time when Trungpa Tulku made the last-moment decision to go to his guru, he and his monks were encamped beside a river and he knew if he could but get away and cross it, then Palpung Monastery lay some ten days’ journey further on. He made a plan and confided part of it to his special friend Yange: He told him that he would give the monks a great treat, a picnic by the riverbank; they were to have a plentiful supply of food and tea, and the customary discipline of not talking after proscribed hours would be relaxed. That evening Yange was to prepare a bag of roast barley flour (tsampa) and leave it with his horse, which must be ready saddled, behind some nearby bushes. At this, Yange was much alarmed, for he realized that he was planning to escape.

  The monks thoroughly enjoyed the picnic, especially the relaxation of the rule of silence, and they chatted on till the small hours of the morning, when drowsiness overtook them. Seeing this, Trungpa Tulku stole away, mounted his horse, and put it at the river which was in spate as the snow was thawing. He was ready to drown rather than miss the opportunity of training under the guru who meant so much to him. The horse managed to breast the current and on reaching the farther side the abbot decided to continue on foot, since riding implies a desire for power and for material possessions, so he tore off a piece of his robe and tied it to his horse’s back, as the customary sign that it had been ceremonially freed by a lama and must not be ill-treated by whoever caught it. He then set the horse free and walked on. The horse recrossed the river and returned to the camp, but the flapping of the piece of robe made it restive, and approaching one of the tents it rubbed against it to get rid of this annoyance and in doing so knocked down the tent. This awoke the sleepers who, seeing the horse, thought it must have broken from its tether. However, when they saw it was saddled and that the saddle was one used by their abbot, they were extremely disturbed and went to Trungpa Tulku’s tent. It was empty, and some of his clothes were arranged to look like a sleeping figure in the bed. Rushing out, they woke up the entire camp. All the monks examined the horse and found that it was wet; they also recognized the robe, and were forced to the conclusion that their abbot had left them and crossed the river.

  Since Trungpa Tulku was quite unused to walking, they thought that he would soon be in difficulties and that they must look for him, so they split up in four groups to search up and down both banks of the river. The group who were going in the southerly direction on the further bank found a saddle rug which had belonged to the abbot, but beyond this there were no more traces. As a matter of fact, Trungpa Tulku had purposely dropped it there to mislead them.

  Traveling northward, he was all but overwhelmed by a sense of utter desolation; never before had he been all alone, having always been surrounded by monks to attend and guard him. He walked fast until he was exhausted and then lay down to sleep. The sound of the rushing river and of dogs barking in a distant village seemed to him like a death knell; this was such a complete change from his very ordered life.

  He was now on the same road that he had taken with his party on their outward journey; then he had talked and questioned many of the local people about the general lie of the land and what track led to Palpung Mona
stery, and now as soon as dawn broke he walked on and arrived early in the morning at the house of a wealthy landowner whom he had visited on the way through. The husband opened the door at his knock, but failed to recognize the visitor; however, since he was in monk’s robes he invited him to come in. When his wife appeared she gave a cry of surprise, for she immediately realized who it was, and her surprise was all the greater at seeing him alone. Trungpa Tulku asked them to shelter him and made them promise not to tell anyone of his whereabouts, since the reason for his being there was a great spiritual need. They were very frightened, but felt obliged to obey their abbot, so they gave him food and hid him in a large store cupboard, where he remained all that day, and when some of the searching monks came to the house to ask if he had been seen, the landowner and his wife kept to their promise.

  In the evening Trungpa Tulku said that he must move on. His hosts were extremely upset that he should go on foot and unattended. They begged him to tell them what had occurred and wanted to know if there had been any misunderstanding between him and his bursar. They suggested, if this had been the case, that perhaps they could arrange for the matter to be cleared up, for their family was in a position to use its influence. Trungpa Rinpoche told them that he did not wish this, and with the greatest reluctance they let him leave, knowing that, as their abbot, it was his place to command and theirs to obey.

  As he was making his way beside the river, he heard horses close behind him, so he hid in some bushes on the bank and the riders passed by. They proved to be the bursar with a mounted party; after a short interval he was able to resume his walk and in the early morning reached another house where he was known. But by now the bursar had alerted the whole neighborhood, so the family was informed of the situation; nevertheless, they took him in and offered to look after him, again hiding him in a store cupboard. As for the bursar, when he could find no further footmarks, he told the monks to search every house in the district. He was dissatisfied with the answers to his inquiries from the family with whom Trungpa Tulku was sheltering and ordered the monks to look in every nook and corner which they did; they found him in the cupboard where he was still hiding.