Chapter III: Journey to Dongtse (2)

After a while the false friend came to take his boys home, when the other came out crying in a loud and pitiful voice, “Friend, my heart bleeds to have to tell you of the misfortune which has befallen you. Your two darlings have been changed into monkeys!” “How can I believe such a story?” the other replied. “If you doubt it, call your sons, and you will see.” So the father called his older son by name, and a monkey came leaping forth, and sat upon his lap, fondling him and chattering to him as if he were an old friend. Filled with surprise, he called his second son, when out came the other monkey, and climbed into his lap also.

After a while the lowlander asked his friend, “How can this have come about? Tell me how it was that the gold was changed into sawdust; it may help to explain this new wonder.” The other, fearing lest his sons had been transformed into monkeys by the incantations of the friend he had deceived, replied, “Friend, I deceived you when I said the gold had been turned into sawdust. I have got it with me; we will divide it equally between us. Is it true, my much injured friend, that my sons have been transformed into monkeys?” “Oh no. How could men become monkeys? Your sons are in excellent health, and are now in one of my distant orchards.” So the two returned to their houses with their respective treasures—the one with his children, the other with his gold.

Years passed by, and the two friends were finally summoned to the court of the Lord of death, there to have their good and bad acts weighed. Their moral merits and their prayers were also weighed, and the balance turned in their favour. A game of chess was then played by the gods and the demon, in which, by means of casting dice, the merits and demerits of gods and men are determined. In the mirror of karma (mundane actions) the two friends saw and blushed for the evil deeds they had done—the gold turned into sawdust, and the boys into monkeys. The Lord of death decreed that the uplander should pass five hundred years in hell, and that the other should for five hundred existences be born a monkey. The punishment of the latter was the severer in that he had stolen human beings, and said that they had been transformed into monkeys; but because he had desired to make offerings to the gods when the treasure had been found, the gods had pleaded for him.

Having finished his tale, Dugpa kunleg exhorted the woman to keep from stealing, and threatened her with such-like dire punishment if she did not desist. The woman put the amber back in the beggar’s bag, and the saint left her house and returned to Lhobrag.

Ugyen also heard at Gyantse that much was to be learnt concerning the ancient history of that place in a work called ‘Nyang choi jung Nyimai odser.’ He furthermore told me that he had heard that last year a mendicant from Gyantse visiting Sikkim gave out there that he was one of the discoverers of sacred books of which the Nyingma history of Sikkim makes mention. He showed what he claimed was a very ancient manuscript volume on the propitiatory ritual of Guru Thag-mar, a fearful deity of the Ningma pantheon. The Sikkim rajah gave him a very warm welcome, and, in consultation with the chief lama of his Durbar, arranged to have block prints made of the text. Recently this impostor had returned to Gyantse, bringing with him many valuable copper and brass articles, silk gowns, and coined money.

January 6.—The minister’s mother, accompanied by a maid-servant, came to pay reverence to her saintly son while I was seated with him. I could not believe that she was his mother when I saw her make three profound salutations before the minister, touching the ground with her forehead and receiving his blessing. She then presented him with a few balls of butter and a khatag; and when his holiness said he would leave for Tashilhunpo in three days, she wept bitterly.

January 7.—Early in the morning we received a message from the minister asking us to postpone our departure for Tashilhunpo, as the Chyag-dso-pa much wished me to accompany the minister to his house at Kye-pa Khangsar, where he proposed staying three days.

The parents of the minister, accompanied by their youngest boy, came again to pay their respects. The father, a quiet, respectable-looking, elderly man, saluted me by taking off his yellow felt turban and inquiring after my health. They kotowed before the minister, who gave them his blessing by touching the crowns of their heads with his hand.

At 2 o’clock the minister, dressed like a Buddhist cardinal, and accompanied by the Tung-chen, ourselves, and his domestics, entered the grand hall of worship (du-kang), the Tung-chen carrying a bundle of incense-sticks and some khatag. The head lama threw some grains of barley towards the images of the deities, and recited some mantras; then the minister, standing, recited a short prayer, and approaching the image of the Buddha, took off his mitre and placed a khatag on it. Then the head lama took the other khatag which the Tung-chen had brought with him, and flung them one by one at the other images, while the monks who accompanied him scattered flowers before them.

After this we circumambulated the monastery, and descended to the foot of the hill, where the son of the Chyag-dso-pa, dressed in a rich Mongol costume, was awaiting us with two spirited and richly caparisoned ponies held by grooms, one of which the minister mounted, while we walked the short distance which separated us from the gateway of Kye-pa Khangsar. A band of drums, hautboys, bells, gongs, and fifes marched before us, playing as we went through the lay town (sho) and along a broad road lined with poplars to the gate of the Khangsar, where the Chyag-dso-pa was standing to receive the minister. He was dressed in a rich scarlet satin robe girded by a yellow scarf, a yellow woollen turban, and a pair of Tartar velvet boots. His tall stature, graceful looks, broad forehead, and uncommonly well-shaped nose, gave him a commanding appearance. He greeted the minister with a profound bow, and presented him a khatag, and received a blessing (chyag wang) from the latter, who afterwards dismounted, putting his foot on a velvet-covered stool placed here for the purpose.

The Chyag-dso-pa salaamed to Ugyen, whom he took for me; and the latter, not taking off his hat to return his salutation (or pay his chyam-bu, as it is called), was reminded of it in a whisper by the Tung-chen.

We then ascended a flight of steps and entered the building. The minister was conducted by the host to his drawing-room, while we were led by his third son, Phuntso Yu-gyal, in company of the Tung-chen, to the chapel, the central room on the first floor. The house was very neatly built, with solid rubble walls and beautifully carved beams of old poplar. There was a skylight in the centre of the roof; thick cushions covered with Khamba rugs were placed around, and on these we took our seats. A collation was served on little tables consisting of Chinese cakes, buckwheat cakes, twisted sweet biscuits, and tsamba and tea was given us by the Chyag-dso-pa’s page Pinu. After a little while we were led into the Chyag-dso-pa’s presence, when we presented him a khatag and a few rupees, also a khatag to his wife, Ama Tung-la, and his daughter-in-law, Rinpoche. After dinner we were conducted to a dormitory on the south side of the chapel, where we found three bedsteads, and after a cup of tea we retired to rest.

January 8.—Early in the morning we asked our host’s leave to start for Tashilhunpo, but he was most reluctant to let us go, and, having obtained the minister’s sanction to our remaining here two days more, we postponed our departure.

Breakfast was served by a maid-servant (shetama) and our host’s daughter-in-law (patsa), Rinpoche, the only wife of his two sons. She is entitled to be addressed as Chyam Kusho, though it is seldom used in speaking to her. She is a young lady of about twenty, of modest manners and intelligent looks. She lingered about until the servants and other guests had left, with the evident intention of conversing with us.

Ugyen-gyatso opened the conversation by asking her to what family of Tibet she belonged. She replied by asking him if he had ever heard of Kusho Mankipa of Tanag. “Yes,” replied he, “if you speak of Manki, who is the maternal uncle of the Rajah of Sikkim.” “’Tis he,” she said; “and he died last year without my seeing him. Are you a subject of my cousin Den Jong gyalpo [the chief of Sikkim]? Oh, how I long to see my aunt!” And she began to weep. “It is now full three years since I came here, and never in that time have I been allowed to visit my fatherland. Oh, I am miserable! I have to work continuously at the loom, supervise the workwomen, attend to the kitchen, and serve the meals. My mother-in-law is without mercy. She thinks my frame is made of iron. Though this family is rich, they work like ploughmen.”

She then begged Ugyen to inform the Sikkim rajah’s mother, Lha-yum Kusho, of her trouble, and to persuade her, if possible, to take her to Chumbi for a couple of months. I told her, by way of consoling her, that she was a most accomplished person, married into one of the richest families of Tsang, and might hope to soon be a mother, so she must not consider herself miserable. “Do you know palmistry?” [169] she suddenly asked; and placing her right hand on the table, she desired me to tell her fortune by the lines on her hand (lag-ri). I was much embarrassed, and told her that I understood very little of this art. Fortunately just then a servant came and called us to the presence of the Chyag-dso-pa.

I took a seat on his right hand, and his wife, Ama Tung-la, occupied one on his left, while Ugyen, seated a little distance off, acted as my interpreter. The Chyag-dso Kusho began with: “In the sacred books we find mention of Indian Punditas who laboured for the diffusion of the enlightened religion. If you be a Pundita, as I hear from the minister that you are, we are most fortunate to have you among us. I also learn that you know about medicines, and I will later on avail myself of your knowledge.” Then, calling his son, Phunsho Yugyal, he desired me, to my great embarrassment, to foretell his fortune by the lines on his hand. Being considered a Pundit, it was impossible for me to say that I did not know such an essential science as palmistry. After mature reflection I told him that although I had studied a little palmistry, I never attached much importance to explanations it afforded of men’s fortunes. The science was very little understood, anyhow, and, in my opinion, it did not deserve any more attention than it had received: nothing could be more unpleasant than a foreknowledge of one’s misery. Human life was, albeit, full of trouble; it was for deliverance from its recurrence that the Buddha has expounded the doctrine of nirvana.

He listened attentively to me, and seemed to think very highly of me. He said that if he but knew how long he and his son would live, he could devise means of preventing accidents in consultation with the minister, for in the sacred books one is told of religious remedies by the use of which calamities caused by devils (dé) can be averted. He pressed me to examine his palm, and stretched it out toward me. How could I refuse, and how could I predict falsely? So I told him that there are certain figures and lines in the palm of the hand from which experts in palmistry can draw indications of a long or short life. In his palm the line of life was very long; and as to fortune, it was well known that he was favoured by the gods.

Ama Tung-la then showed me her hand, and I said, “Ama-la, you are very fortunate. The mother of three sons, all of them grown up and accomplished men; the wife of a great man. What more can you want of the gods?” She smiled at this, and said that for some days past she had been suffering from a cough; could I give her some medicine that would relieve her? I asked for some black pepper and rock-candy, and prepared a powder for her.

At noon we dined with the minister and the Chyag-dso Kusho. The dishes were prepared and served in the Chinese fashion. Chopsticks and spoons were used. The first course was gya-tug, a tape-like preparation of wheat-flour and eggs, cooked with minced mutton, and soup. The minister did not eat it, as he had, in common with all lamas, taken the vow of abstaining from eggs. The second course was rice and half a dozen preparations of mutton curry, rice, mutton with preserved vegetables, white and black mushrooms, Chinese green grass, vermicelli, potatoes, and fresh shoots of peas. [170] The third course (leu, literally, “chapter”) was buttered and sweetened rice; the fourth, and last, boiled mutton, tsamba, and tea. The Tung-chen told me that at sumptuous entertainments thirteen courses are usually served.

About an hour after dinner we visited Jerung la, the second son of the Chyag-dso Kusho, who is a monk in the castle of Diba Dongtse. This building, about six hundred years old, is built of stone of the best quality; it faces south, and has balconies (rab-sal) provided with shutters along each of its five stories. It is of a partly Indian, partly Tibetan style of architecture, with a central courtyard about 100 feet broad and 200 long. Around this, on the sides, the building is 40 feet high, and has three stories, along the outer edge of which, on the courtyard side, are rows of drum-shaped prayer-wheels two feet high, and as much in diameter, that take the place of railings. There are some three hundred of these prayer-barrels on the stories of the three sides. The main building is on the north side of the court, and is some 60 to 70 feet high. We ascended to the top story by a steep ladder, and were there shown the gonkhang, [171] the shrine of the guardian deities—terrible figures, among which I noticed three of Mamos, resembling Jaganath, Balavendra, and Subhadra, of the Hindus.

There were several chapels, in each of which was a resident priest called am-choi. On the balconies of the wings three or four old women were weaving blankets, and at the entrance to the building a huge mastiff was chained, who made furious attempts to rush at us as we passed.

One hundred yards south of the castle is a garden (linga) with tall poplars—some 80 to 100 feet high, and four other kinds of trees planted in rows along its four walks, in the middle of which is a tastefully built summer-house, its cornice and external decorations remarkably pretty. One hundred yards away from it is a target for musket and bow practice.

While we visited the linga a greyhound [172] was running about it, but he paid no attention to us. On our way homeward we passed through the village where, under some tall poplars, tradesmen were displaying pottery for sale. We also saw four yellow-turbaned men, who, we were told, were the tax-collector’s understrappers.

January 9.—While we were breakfasting Rinpoche came in, and again spoke of her hard work and of the merciless treatment of her mother-in-law. I asked her if her husband was not fond of her. “Oh, sir,” she said, “we two are like one soul and body; but he is most of the time at Shigatse, where he is the Dahpon’s steward” (Nyerpa [173]). She told me that she had just heard that her cousin, the Rajah of Sikkim, was coming to Tibet to get married. If his mother came with him, she could surely persuade her to take her with her to Chumbi for a couple of months. She also said to me that her mother-in-law ought not to have given her such a high sounding name as Rinpoche (“the Jewel”), for it is a name given to incarnate lamas and chiefs; but I answered, to her evident pleasure, that Rinpoche was a most appropriate name for handsome and accomplished women.

After this I went to the minister’s apartment for dinner. Before it was served we washed our hands. A large copper bowl, or katora, was placed for the purpose before the minister, who, in washing his hands, rubbed them with a kind of wood dust called sugpa, [174] obtained from a plant growing in Tibet, and used instead of soap.

After dinner the Chyag-dso-pa made presents to the minister, consisting of blankets, Tibetan serge (pulo), three pieces of red, scarlet, and yellow English broadcloth, Gyantse rugs of superior quality, Khamba rugs, Chinese brocaded satin, spotted woollen chintz, about two bushels of tsamba, a large quantity of buckwheat cakes, twisted sugar cakes, loaves of bread, and three hundred tankas. The presentation of these gifts he accompanied by profound salutations, and the minister gave him his blessing, when he begged him to pray to the gods to make him prosperous and happy. After this he gave presents of about half the value to the Tung-chen, and so on, less and less, according to each one’s rank; to me he gave two Gyantse rugs, two pieces of spotted pulo, and a khatag. Alms were also distributed among the monks and the minister’s menials.

When the Chyag-dso Kusho had finished making all these presents he returned to the minister’s room, where we were with him. In course of conversation he suggested the propriety of my presenting the Tashi lama with an elephant. He said that two had recently been sent by the Rajah of Sikkim to Lhasa, to be presented to the Dalai lama, one of which had died on the way. [175] He also spoke of the superiority of Indian metal images over those made in Tibet, and said that those made in Magadha, and called jai-khim, were very rare in this country. “If you had brought some of these, or of shar-li [Bengal bell-metal], or nub-li [lower Indus valley], [176] and presented them to the minister, he would have been infinitely more pleased than with glass and other fragile and useless toys.”

In the evening it was settled that the minister should start for Tashilhunpo on the morrow, and that Kusho Jambala, the Chyag-dso-pa’s elder brother, who was suffering from ophthalmia, should accompany him, to submit there to my medical treatment.

January 10.—We were up early, and got ready to leave for Tashilhunpo. The Tung-chen advised me to start ahead of the minister, who would overtake me on the road, as he travelled very rapidly, and he furthermore let me pick out for my use the quietest pony in the stable. We had not gone four miles when the minister and four attendants caught up with us. We rode on together some six miles, and when we reached the bed of the stream, now dry, which empties into the Nyang chu, we all alighted. The minister ordered his page to bring him a basketful of earth from a spot he pointed out. This was placed before him as he sat cross-legged on a rug, when he muttered some mantras and made an oblation of tsamba and water. The Tung-chen informed me that on the last journey the minister had made this way he had at this spot fallen from his pony, and it was supposed that some evil spirit haunting this spot was desirous of hurting him, and so this ceremony was performed to drive it away.

When it was over we had a light collation, the minister giving me some dried dates and Cabul fruits, while the Tung-chen gave the others treacle, biscuits, and tsamba.

At 4 o’clock we reached Tashi-gang. After partaking of refreshments the minister took his seat on the roof of Ang-putta’s second story. He called me and Ugyen up, and asked us to teach him the foreign system of land surveying. Ugyen showed him his prismatic compass with attached clinometer. We explained the use of these instruments, and expressed regrets that we had no tape-measure or chain with which we could take measurements, carefully abstaining from mentioning measuring distances by pacing, lest he might suspect us of being surveyors, and withdraw his protection.

He then spoke of his desire to have a sextant, various mathematical instruments, a chest of medicines, and an illustrated work on astronomy. Ugyen expressed his willingness to go to Calcutta to purchase them, were it not that he could not leave me here alone, and with my desire to see Lhasa unfulfilled. The minister replied, “That is easily provided for. I will look after the Pundit; and as to his going to Lhasa, why, there is every probability that the Tashi lama will go there to ordain the Dalai lama in the fourth month (June), when it will be possible to arrange for the Pundit’s going there also. The Shape Rampa, and Phala are my friends; they will help him. However, we will think of all this later on at Tashilhunpo.”

He then said there were five persons in Tsang who took interest in science and study—the Shape Porapa, the Chief Secretary (Dung-yig chenpo) Ka-chan Dao, the Donyer, and himself. “There are,” he added, “many other learned men at Tashilhunpo and in various other monasteries of Tsang, but they only interest themselves in sacred literature; they do not care to know of the science and civilization of other great countries such as that of the Phyling (foreigners) and India.”

The minister finally informed me that to-morrow he would visit the Kyi-phug nunnery, about three miles off in the hills behind Tashigang. The Lady Superior and her nuns (tsun-mo) had repeatedly begged him to visit their convent, but he had been so pressed for time that he had only been able to do so once in the last six years.

January 11.—The minister and his party left for the Kyi-phug convent at 7 a.m., and we set off for Tashilhunpo after breakfast. Old Kusho Jambala was unable to keep up with us. As he followed slowly the minister’s muleteers, his yellow-satin mitre, his spectacles, his manner of sitting on his pony, and his tall lank figure recalled to my mind the renowned knight of La Mancha. With his leave we rode ahead. We saw on the way a woman sweeping the ground, and on inquiry she told us that she was removing the thick grime which covered the ground so that her cattle might the more easily pick up the grass. Many sheep, we were told, die in winter on account of the ice crust which covers the grass. At 4 p.m. we arrived at Chyang chu, where we were most kindly received by the Deba Shikha, and lodged in the same quarters we had previously occupied.

January 12.—After breakfast we strolled about the linga in front of the minister’s bathing-house (cham chu). It is surrounded by a wall of sun-dried bricks, stones, and turf seven feet high. In the south-east corner is the snug little two-storied house where the minister passes a few days in October. The cooking and bathing is done under yak-hair tents pitched in the western avenue of the grove.

At 9 o’clock we set out, and were at Tashilhunpo by noon, and there found Phurchung, who had arrived the day before from Khamba jong. The Djongpon, who knew him, had told him that unless he came bearing a passport from the Tashi lama or the Commander of Shigatse, he could not let him pass the frontier. There were formal orders from the Lhasa Government not to let any one cross the frontier, even if bearing letters from the high officials of Labrang, who are not, however, in charge of frontier affairs. So Rinzing Namgyal had to leave our luggage with the Pipon of Lachan, and had gone back to Darjiling.