Born in Tibet

by Marco Pallis

  A further three monks had joined our party; they had no transport and Yak Tulku took them on to help him. Before we left, Repön, who was directing the refugee encampment, sent his son to have a further talk with me. His group thought that they should sell some of their things to buy horses and then join my party. He wanted to know what we had decided to do and if I would allow them to come with us. I told him that we were still uncertain about everything and that each day things were becoming more complicated. He replied that even so they all intended to follow us. I advised him not to part with his animals, or to follow us too soon, because all the routes were overcrowded with refugees and we might not be able to get through. However, they went on getting rid of their possessions.

  Some soldiers came along who had escaped from Norbu Lingka, the Dalai Lama’s summer residence outside Lhasa; they gave us a graphic account of what had happened there. They had witnessed the Chinese shelling the building and seen some of their fellow soldiers killed. No one knew whether the Dalai Lama was still within the walls; there was, however, a suspicion that he had escaped. They had also seen the Potala being shelled; the bombardment had begun at a signal from a Communist gun. After the attacks on the Norbu Lingka and the Potala there was no possibility of further fighting, for the Chinese had taken up positions in big houses in the town and were firing from them. It was obvious that all this had been prepared for some months previously. These men had escaped, but a number of Resistance soldiers would not leave the place and they had all been massacred.

  Another man told me how he had left Jyekundo with a large group of refugees. They had reached a place halfway to Lhasa in the flat country round Changthang when they were sighted by Chinese airplanes and Communist patrols attacked them from all directions. The fighting was severe; among others the abbot of Jyekundo Monastery was shot and all the wounded were left to die, while the survivors from the battle starved to death as the Communists had taken all their food and possessions. The refugees had, however, actually succeeded in shooting down one of the enemy planes. There were many different groups of refugees all around that area, and the Chinese were everywhere. My informant’s particular camp had been attacked seventeen times. On one occasion, when the group was trying to go forward and most of the men had gone ahead to secure a passage through the surrounding Communist troops leaving the women and children in the camp to follow after them, a husband and his wife had put their three young sons, aged between eleven and eight, on their horses, and while they themselves were saddling their own animals the boys’ horses took fright and bolted. The parents took it for granted that the horses were following others leaving the camp, so went on themselves to the agreed camping ground; however, on reaching it there was no sign of the children and the mother in despair jumped into the river.

  The man who spoke to me had witnessed the whole tragedy and went on to tell me how several days later when he was scouting round he had discovered the three boys sheltering from the rain, under a rock; two of their horses were nearby, the third was dead and the children were starving. The eldest boy had tried to cut out some of the dead horse’s flesh, but his small knife had been useless for the task. The children asked him where their mother was. Since another attack from the enemy was expected at any moment, the man could not take the children with him; however, he managed to arrange with some nearby herdsmen to look after them. He had later met their father in Lhasa and told him how he had found the boys.

  One important piece of news reached us about that time: We were told that Gyalwa Karmapa had left his monastery some weeks before the fall of Lhasa, with Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche and his brother and the newly found incarnation of Jamgön Kongtrül of Palpung, who was still an infant, also the young Tai Situ abbot of Palpung; many abbots and lamas had traveled with them. They had gone through Bhutan to India and had been able to take some of their possessions with them. This news left my monks in no further doubt that we too must face the hardships of escape. They could not, however, understand why, if Gyalwa Karmapa had arranged to escape himself, he had given no indication of his plans when I wrote to him from Drölma Lhakhang. I explained to them that none of us could advise others in such a situation; I was in the same difficulty myself when asked for my advice, since I did not even know where our own party could find refuge.

  Some of the troops who were passing through told us enthralling stories; the Resistance soldiers who had fought at Kongpo had been very brave, but they had been forced to retreat, for they could do nothing against the superior arms of the Chinese; their spirit was still unbroken and they were ready to carry on the fight at any time.

  We now made our way across a range of mountains in a southwesterly direction and after negotiating the high pass of Nupkong La we reached the China-to-Lhasa main road in front of the bridge at the western end of the dangerous passage through the gorge which we had not dared to attempt before. There were many refugees going the same way. We camped in a small field from where we could see the road. I was apprehensive and scanned it carefully through field glasses: It certainly looked impossible; however, when I saw a man with some baggage mules going across it, I thought it might be feasible. We asked some villagers for their help with our animals and started off at daybreak the following morning. Fortunately no one was coming from the opposite direction. We found that as long as the animals were left to themselves they were all right; we were able to reach the last bridge safely about noon and stopped at the first small camping ground beyond it, for with so many refugees on the way, we thought we might have difficulty in finding another suitable place.

  Nearby, we met a number of monks from Kamtrül Rinpoche’s monastery of Khampa Gar, among them the same Genchung Lama who had served as chöpön (director of rites) for the wangkur at Yak; with him he had his sister who was a nun, and there were also a number of villagers in his party. The monks gave me a distressing account of how their monastery had been invaded by the Communists. They had all been imprisoned and the senior lamas shot one after another. Only a very few monks had escaped from the monastery itself, the party on the road having mostly come from the retreat center; it was sad to see how, after so many peaceful years of monastic life, they now found themselves in this tragic position. They were, however, enormously thankful that their abbot had been able to escape to India. I was a little afraid that they would want to join us, for our party was already far too numerous; before they could suggest anything, I hinted that we had no set plans ourselves; I said we had already been forced to change plans suddenly several times. However, they decided to try to get to India from the west side of the gorge. Only the chöpön and his sister asked to come with us; they each had a horse and some mules for their baggage.

  FIFTEEN

  Refugees on the Move

  WE TRAVELED EASTWARD along the main road to Alado where there is a junction of two rivers; we followed the southern one for a few miles and turned into a valley on its west side. It was much warmer here; the country was green and covered with trees of the holly family as well as bamboos. This valley was thronged with refugees going the same way; when we asked them where they were going to, they said that they were just following the people in front of them. With all these animals on the road there was less and less grazing available; we passed the carcasses of many beasts which had died on the road and they made the air putrid. When we camped it was difficult to find a clean spot; all possible sites were so crowded that there was hardly enough space to stretch the tent ropes. Many of the refugees wanted to consult me; they thought that a party like ours must have a plan. The only answer I could give them was that I had no clearer ideas than themselves; we were simply all going in the same direction. The lamas among the crowds continued to carry on their devotions, and the valley echoed with the sounds of their chanting, their drums, and other musical instruments. The people were wonderfully cheerful, they laughed and joked and sang among themselves. We went on like this for several days. The queen of Nangchen and some of her ministers were in a larg
e group among the refugees; she was still cheerful and welcomed me warmly as we exchanged white scarves. She was a little disturbed about the direction that we were all following and had sent several messengers to different places to make enquiries about alternative routes; none of them had returned. A steep and very high pass lay in front of us which was still under snow. It was a strange sight to watch this dark stream of people looking like a black ribbon stretched over the white landscape of the pass. I walked beside the queen and was surprised to see how tough she was; she preferred to go on foot through the snow rather than to ride. After crossing the pass we went down to a series of valleys; there was more room here for camping and we were no longer distressed by the proximity of dead animals. We followed the valleys circling between the hills; the queen decided to stay with her party in one of the smaller ones, but all the rest of us went on. When we thought that we had crossed the last pass on our route we discovered on the following day that there was an even steeper one rising ahead of us. The road leading up to it was so dangerous that one of our horses with its load fell over the precipice and we were not able to recover anything. At the top we found there was a broad plateau where we could all camp. Karma Tendzin was already there; he was recruiting all the able-bodied men among the refugees for the Resistance army. Lama Ugyen Rinpoche was also camping there with a party of monks; I had not met him before although I had heard a great deal about him, for he was a disciple of my predecessor and also a great friend of Gyalwa Karmapa who used often to consult him on specially perplexing questions. He was an old man and considered it his duty to give advice to a young person like myself. He told me not to go to India but to stay where I was; he thought it strange that I had such a large following. I had to explain to him who everybody was and how some of us had met at the wangkur which I had given at Yak. I said that we all had made up our minds to try to get to India; he was very firm that I should not go with the others, though my friends could do as they liked, and added that this was a request as well as an order. I asked him various questions about Gyalwa Karmapa and my other friends in Central Tibet. He himself could easily have gone with them, but he had not wished to do so. I wanted to know if he thought that it would ever be necessary for him to escape to India and he replied that he thought the time might come, though he was quite sure that this should not be attempted at present, for there was certain to be a lull before such a step would become imperative. He added, “This plateau and all the valleys below it are holy places of pilgrimage. We should all join together here in meditation to gain spiritual strength so that we may carry on with our normal duties.”

  Karma Tendzin, the guerilla captain, had his son with him on the plateau; he was not thinking of going to India at that time, being entirely intent upon the work of the Resistance. He could give me no suggestions about what route we should follow or even about the advisability of our attempting to escape or not. On the plateau there was an acute shortage of food, grazing, and space. I pointed out to him that he was the only person who could deal with the situation and direct these vast crowds to spread themselves in different parts of the country. It was impossible for the local inhabitants round here to provide necessities for so many people. He agreed that this should be done; however, he felt that he must first get the able-bodied refugees and the local men to join the Resistance forces. I told him how Pu Dündül was organizing local groups and not allowing anyone who could fight to leave his district. Throughout our travels we had found that in all the villages the men were eager to join in the fighting against the Communists.

  A further influx of refugees arrived on the plateau. They had traveled quickly, having little baggage, and had passed a large party coming from Drölma Lhakhang and Yak traveling in a group with Jigme Rinpoche and my bursar who were bringing the heavy baggage loaded on yaks. This group had crossed the Shabye Bridge and had arrived at Lhodzong where they were stopping since they were now uncertain whether or not to continue their journey in view of the fact that the situation around Drölma Lhakhang and Yak seemed to have quieted down. At the same time a messenger came from Kino Tulku’s monastery to tell him that all was quiet there. My own party had again been growing restless, feeling that perhaps our flight into the unknown had been unnecessary. This led to a long discussion, since it seemed as if Lama Ugyen’s advice might after all be right, in which case should we not delay trying to go to India and wait for a lull in the hostilities? In the meantime, I made enquiries from the local people about the country around and about what mountain tracks we would have to follow if we decided to continue on our way to India. They all told me that it would be impossible to travel by the valleys or to cross the mountain ranges at this time of year, for all the rivers would be in spate; which meant in effect that we would have to remain where we were. I myself was quite determined that as soon as it was possible we should carry out our plan to escape. I felt I must inform the party at Lhodzong of what we intended doing; Akong Tulku’s elder brother and one of Kino Tulku’s monks volunteered to take the message. In my letter I said that in any case we intended to make for India; there was no question of turning back. Lama Ugyen, however, took it for granted that we were following his advice and not immediately leaving the plateau, so he urged us to make a pilgrimage to the holy places in the nearby valley and even named a date for us to go there. We were a little doubtful whether it would be possible to cross the high mountain pass which lay in the way and I thought the wisest plan would be for only three of us, namely myself, Akong Tulku, and one monk, to make the attempt under Lama Ugyen’s leadership. When we joined him he asked where were the rest of our party, for he had been very excited at the prospect of conducting our whole group, animals included. I explained to him that the others had not come because we thought there might be difficulties in crossing the pass. Actually when our small party reached it the snow was so deep that we found it impossible to get through.

  Most of the refugees had by now gone on to the Nyewo Valley, so the plateau was no longer so crowded. We decided to move to its farther end to a level spot near a lake. Yönten went to Nyewo to get provisions, but found a scarcity there and this made us realize that we must eke out our provisions and rely for the most part on tsampa and wild vegetables. Karma Tendzin was also staying at this end of the plateau; he had a battery radio with him and we used to listen in to the news both from Peking and Delhi broadcast in Tibetan. The Peking program was full of propaganda saying how wicked the uprising had been, when the Chinese had only come to Tibet to liberate its people; however, they had now settled all the disturbances and there were very few Resistance troops left in Tibet. The broadcast from Delhi said that the Dalai Lama was already in Mussoorie.

  It was a surprise one day when Repön’s son suddenly appeared at our camp. His father had sent him on ahead to tell me that they had sold most of their possessions and animals and had bought extra arms and ammunition from fellow refugees. They had got past the gorge with its difficult piece of road, had crossed the bridge, and were now on the track leading southward where they were waiting until the son could scout out the route ahead and see what camping grounds and grazing were available. I told him all I knew and he went back.

  A number of senior lamas had now also arrived on the plateau, having traveled with various groups of refugees. Lama Ugyen thought it would be a good plan if they, together with our party, were to cross the holy mountain to a small valley beyond it, which was in the heart of the pilgrimage country. The local people had suggested to him that the pass could be crossed if they sent unloaded yaks first to tread down the snow, and they had offered to help him in this way. On studying this plan, however, I saw that the valley in question was extremely small; there would be no room for such a large party and the conditions would be so crowded that we should fare even worse than before. I did not want to offend Lama Ugyen so I told him that if the yaks cleared the way, there was no need for us all to go together, my party could follow later. I would let him know if we decided to go first to Nyew
o Valley. His party made three attempts with yaks, and the third time they were able to cross the pass. I would certainly have liked to have gone on pilgrimage to these holy places and also to have further talks with Lama Ugyen, but there was no further opportunity to do so. We heard later that when his party reached the valley they found it was so narrow that there was not enough room for them; moreover it was a highly dangerous place where rock falls were frequent and in fact some of their horses were killed by falling stones. Meanwhile Yönten sent some food to us from Nyewo, but stayed on there himself hoping to buy further supplies.

  After the talks I had had with Lama Ugyen, I realized how important it was for me to go into retreat for a short time to renew my strength. In any case I thought that we should move nearer to Nyewo and hoped I might find a suitable place for a retreat while on the way there. Climbing down from the plateau we crossed the river below it. We now had to go up a steep zigzag track which led across a pass in a high mountain range. It was dangerously slippery, for here all the ground was covered with a white slimy mud with no vegetation. Had an animal slipped, it would have crashed down on the people behind. The top of the pass was like a knife edge; however, it was easier going down on the other side, where there were trees and undergrowth. We came to a nice little open valley which seemed a good place for a camp; a few refugees were already there at the farther end. In this quiet spot I was even able to go on with my writing; however, the peace did not last for long, for all Repön’s party soon arrived on the scene. They were very considerate and put up their camp about a mile away from ours. A few refugees were passing through who told me that Bursar Tsethar’s party were close behind on their way to join us. Akong Tulku and I walked round the surrounding country until we found a suitable place where one could go into retreat; it was less than a mile from our camp in a wooded spot. It was agreed that visitors could come for an hour in the morning and for a couple of hours in the afternoon if they would bring me some food; I could make my own fires. I took with me my tent, a small shrine, and some books. Here it was possible to relax after so much turmoil, thus gaining spiritual strength in order to face whatever lay ahead.