Read an Excerpt
My Tibetan Childhood
When Ice Shattered Stone
By Naktsang Nulo Duke University Press
Copyright © 2014 Duke University Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8223-7638-5
CHAPTER 1
BORN ON THE WIDE TIBETAN GRASSLANDS
1: Madey Chugama, My Native Land.
The first day I went to Ratsang school a teacher from Golok named Tserang Dorje asked me, "Hello, Golok boy, where are you really from?"
"Madey Chugama," I replied.
"I know that region," he said. "Ngora Village, Chokho Chugama.... Sure, sure, I visited there as a child. It's a great place with strong families and brave men." Even though I was young then, still I felt happy to hear someone speak well of my home.
"My homeland is in the eastern part of Tibet," I say if I am asked. "It is south of Amnye Machen, to the east of Dugre Mountain and in the first of the eighteen sheltered plains of the Machu River, near the chiefdoms of Madey Chugama and Chokho Chugama. That's my native land."
Madey Chugama was rich in grass, water, mountains, valleys, and soil. It was a lovely place with good plants and flowers, and it was a moral place, too. On the highest mountains there were Tibetan gazelles, various types of deer, and many other wild animals. There were bears, wolves, foxes, and many other predatory animals among the forests and juniper bushes near the Machu River. The mountain area where the families lived had broad grassland with deep soil. A place rich in grass and plants is a good place to raise livestock. When I was young I often heard Uncle Shotse arguing with other people.
"Yes, boys," he would say. "Our Madey Chugama is not like other chiefdoms. Because all our valleys and mountains have rich grass and watering places. this is a fortunate place for yaks, horses, and sheep. It is good for female yaks and cows who are milking and it breeds fast horses. The bravery of young men abounds here, and this land makes the girls beautiful. Religion prospers, and chiefs and lamas are authoritative here." He said many other things like that, but no one tired of listening to him. Madey Chugama really was a fine place. As the temperature rose and fell throughout the year, the old people described the changing seasons like this:
"The Bird month is called the 'month of darkened paths and rivers,' because when ice melts on the paths and rivers they get darker. The second month is called the 'Dog month of colorful turf,' the third month is called the 'Pig month when grass grows green on the plain,' the fourth month is called the 'Marmot month of green mountain pasture,' the fifth month is the 'Ox month of overflowing grass and rivers,' the sixth is the 'Tiger month' and the 'month of hot sunshine,' the seventh is the 'Rabbit month when we eat barley,' the eighth is the 'Dragon month of leaves blown off by the wind,' ninth is the 'Snake month which ends by freezing,' tenth is the 'Horse month when ice fringes the river,' the eleventh is the 'Sheep month frozen face,' and the twelfth is the 'Monkey month when earth and stone explode' [as ice swells to shatter rock]."
There were about seven hundred families in Madey Chugama. Most of them lived on either side of the Machu River, and a few lived across the Guchu River. The clans were called Gotsa, Gochen, Warshi, Gulag, and other names. The Tashi Chulong Monastery used to number five hundred monks. The front of the mountain where it was located is known as "Padmasambhava's Hat." It used to be an exemplary monastery where morals and religion prospered. In Madey Chugama man and woman, young and old were all treated well. Everyone was very good-hearted and well-behaved. They followed the laws of karma modestly. The chiefdom and its families enhanced their wealth and that of others. Both the leaders and their followers had enough food to eat and clothes to wear. We were the happiest part of all the provinces of Tibet. That was the Madey Chokgo Chugama chiefdom.
I thought that my good luck in being born there was due to my meritorious previous life and because I'd taken refuge in the Three Precious Jewels: the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. After twenty years of absence, when I revisited and saw the mountains and rivers of my native land, it was just as beautiful, enchanting, and pleasurable as I remembered it. When I looked up, there was the vulture—I heard its cry, and the scream of the Lhachen Dorje lynx, the magnificent deities of my birth. When I looked down from the mountain, there was Padmasambhava's Hat, with the Guchu River on the right, and the Machu River on the left. In front was the wide pasture next to Tashi Chulong Monastery. I was joyful and at peace. Now I was back in the arms of my native land, and my dream to return had become a reality.
"You boys are all grown!" Uncle Norta said to me and my brother. "You must have missed the native land that you knew as children. Your birth deities must have been watching over you, or else you would have died far away."
"That's right," Aunt Damkho said. "The Three Precious Jewels bear witness! It was as if you were dead, but now the dead and the living have met face-to-face. I never thought I would see your faces again. Surely you were spared from death because of your desire to return here. So now you must stay—I swear you must not leave us again." But I did leave.
Oh native land, my adored home—why did I not stay with you when I was a child? I left, unintentionally and against my will, because of the great changes and dangers wrought by time. I am a little boy who has wandered far from home, but in the end I would like to return to you. If my life were free I would definitely not stay in this distant place.
Karma cannot be changed, and sooner or later I will die far from Madey Chugama. At that time may my mind be released as a small bee with the help of my native land's birth deities, its lamas and monks.
2: A Wealthy Place, a Happy Family.
When I was young I often asked my father and my aunts Rigdron and Damkho how I was born and what my mother was like, but they wouldn't tell me. My interest grew, and I asked them more and more often. One day I asked Aunt Damkho again.
"The boy is crazy," she said. "Why are you always asking about this?"
"You shouldn't say that," Uncle Norta countered. "He wants to know, and one day you should tell him everything. Just because he's young doesn't mean he can't think for himself."
"I can't tell him," Aunt said, "because I would have to speak the names of many dead people." From the way they were talking it sounded as though telling these stories would involve saying the names of many dead people, risking a lot of bad luck. Maybe it was hopeless. But a few days later, at bedtime, Aunt Damkho told me the whole story of my birth.
"Many years ago, before fighting had broken out between the chiefs of Madey Chugama and Malon Me, Madey Chugama was on a wide and open grassland beside the blue waters of the Machu River. On the pastureland that autumn, the Gotsa clan was living close together like a patch of mushrooms sprung from the grass. Above them was a black, cube-shaped yak hair tent with colorful prayer flags behind it shaking in the wind. On either side of the tent entrance, two dogs were tied up. We called them 'four-eyed,' because above each eye they had patches of fur like extra eyes. When anyone came close to the tents, they jumped up and threw themselves fiercely against their ropes, threatening to pull their tethers out of the ground. At the end of the day, many yaks, sheep, and horses filled the pens. Even if you hadn't known, you could tell with your own eyes that this was a united family, and a rich one too. If you asked, they would have told you that this family was called Naktsang Damkho. The family was always at work outside or inside the tent. Everyone—guests from both near or far—was welcomed with warm laughter.
"So, the most beautiful girl in the Naktsang family wore coral decorations on her head. She was the youngest of four daughters from Warje Meshe Wagen, a wealthy family among their clan, and was called Tserangkyid. She married the eldest son of the Naktsang family, whose name was Durkho.
"In our clan they used to say that after Tserangkyid came to the Naktsang family, their fortunes improved and their livestock prospered. Wealth, clothes, and food flowed to the family. They called her an auspicious wife. She had a son, and when he was four years old the monks of Alak Drak Monastery named him Jamyang Badma.
"Then, on the night of the fourteenth day of the eighth Mongolian month, rain clouds gathered. You could scarcely see the fingers of your own hand in front of your face, it was so dark. The rain grew heavier and heavier. In the red lightning you could see the prayer flags flapping in the rain behind the Naktsang family's tent. You could catch glimpses of the yaks, horses, and sheep sleeping quietly beside the black yak hair tent. Inside the tent the altar was alight with butter lamps whose flames shifted in the wind. Inside, the stove smoked, and fire flickered to the left and right of the gleaming copper pot on the stovetop. Beside the stove an old woman with white hair took beads in her hand and said, 'The Three Precious Jewels bear witness and Gungtang Danba Jamyang bear witness. I pray for the safety and long life of this mother and baby.' She chanted many other prayers too, coughing a little as she did so.
"Lightning flared and thunder blasted at almost the same moment.
"'Jamyang bear witness! What's going on tonight?' the old woman said nervously. Grandpa Naktsang Tame was dozing near the side of the tent.
"'Stop barking into the night,' he ordered. 'You'll come to no harm. Just take care of the girl and make sure she's safe.'
"'Don't talk like that,' the old woman chided. 'She is in great pain, but it seems to be getting better. And people give birth every day.'
"'Hey, Durkho my son,' the Naktsang grandfather called out a little later. 'Go outside and see whether the yaks and sheep are safe.'
"'I'll check, father.' The young man with long black hair left the tent, holding his gun.
"The young woman yelled, panicky. 'Ayo, Mother, the pain, the pain!' she screamed. 'Please help me!'
"'It's all right, my dear,' the old lady told her. 'A great mother's daughter will be patient. Have courage, the dawn is near and you will give birth. The Three Precious Jewels bear witness and and Gungtang Jamyang bear witness ...!' Near dawn heavy rain fell, lightning flashed, and thunder roared behind the tent. The Naktsang tent filled with smoke. The old man raised his head.
"'What's happening to the weather tonight?' he asked. 'That lightning almost struck us.' Right then, a tiny cry came from the direction of the young woman.
"'The Three Precious Jewels bear witness!' the old woman shouted. 'She's given birth, she's given birth!'
"'That's great,' Old Naktam said happily, 'but it's a shame that the baby has been frightened by all this lightning.'
"The old woman was still excited: 'Thanks to the Three Precious Jewels the Naktsang family has got another son! How wonderful to have another son!'
"'That's absolutely right!' Old Naktam said. 'I dreamed many days ago that it would be a son.'
"'Stop exaggerating,' the old woman said. 'I know you didn't really dream that.' He retorted, 'I promise that's exactly what I dreamed. Now, where has Durkho wandered off to? It'll be daybreak soon, so we'd better hurry and burn incense for the offering.' He said this and many other happy things.
"Dawn broke. Behind the Naktsang family's tent, a large heap of incense sent smoke rising into the sky. In the tent a tiny baby's cry, 'A-wa, a-wa,' could be heard over and over as the light grew."
Aunt Damkho stopped talking, without any hint that there was more to her story. Everything happened as my grandfather dreamed and my grandmother prayed. Perhaps it was the consequence of my parents' merit in a previous life that I was a baby experiencing my first day in this world. Before my head was dry, all my family members wanted to hold me as if I was a jewel. If I hadn't received the consciousness of a human being, I would have continued to wander in the gloom and fear of the "intermediate state," and nobody had any idea how long my soul might have roamed with nowhere to live. Today I had arrived in the bright light of human life. My grandparents had taken beads and chanted manis. I was born in this Tibetan land of snows, a religious land and country. This would give me an excellent opportunity to perform religious deeds and avoid karmic retribution. Because of the Three Precious Jewels, or perhaps because of deeds I had done in a previous life, I was beginning my life in the world of humans.
"Whose consciousness does he have?" my parents often asked. "What was he in his previous life?" I overheard many things that I did not understand. I could not answer their questions and had no reason to think much about where I came from or whose consciousness I had entered. Whether life is short or long, with good or bad luck, wealth or poverty, low or high status, life will provide as many ups and downs as the antlers of a deer. From the day of my birth, I started to take single steps on this variable path of life. It's hard for anyone to predict the joys and sorrows of destiny.
"The destiny we call karma cannot be changed," our father often told us. "Our joys and sorrows are written within our own foreheads." That is true.
In my early childhood I could already read the six syllables of the mani, "Om mane padme hum." In my heart my wish was always this, "To seek refuge in the Three Precious Jewels. In these bad times, without my protectors, please show me the way through the sea of sadness and beyond the world of samsara. Since my life is as impermanent as this butter lamp, protect me always with gentle winds."
3: Experiencing Buddhism, Monks, and the Monastery for the First Time.
After Aunt Damkho had spoken for a long time about the story of my birth, I fell asleep. The following evening, while I was going to bed, she came to me.
"My dear," she said, "tonight I am going to tell you of some things that happened after your birth." I settled into her arms and listened carefully.
My brother Japey had been staying in Aunt Damkho's home for many days. One morning he heard that the Naktsang had produced another son. Aunt Damkho took Japey by the hand and led him toward the Naktsang tent. When they arrived at the animal pen, the Naktsang daughter-in-law, Meshel Tserangkyid—she who had just given birth to me—came out of the home to restrain the dog and welcome them.
"Are you crazy?" Aunt exclaimed when she saw my mother. "You can't get up today! I swear you'll hurt yourself."
"It's fine, Aunty," she replied, "I'm fine now." She led my aunt into the tent. Grandmother was holding me in her arms.
"This one just can't stop crying. He's been crying all morning." She gave me to my mother, and I stopped crying as soon as I began suckling.
"Why do you keep going on and on about this?" my grandpa said. "You should hurry up and get ready to leave. You need to meet Alak in the monastery and ask his protection for our grandson and for him to be given a name." I cried and cried. My mother held me, and rocked me, but whatever she did I couldn't stop crying.
"It's a good time to go to the monastery and ask Alak's advice," Grandpa Naktam said. "This is such a pity. Maybe he was frightened by the storm and the lightning last night?" I continued crying, no matter what anyone did.
"Dear Mommy," my brother Japey said, "give me the baby. Let me put him in my robe."
My mother finally put me in his arms, and Japey said, "Sweet brother, dear brother. Don't cry now. Your brother is holding you. Please don't cry. Do you understand?" After listening to his voice a little while, I stopped crying.
"How lovely!" my mother said.
"Children do prefer other children," Grandpa Naktam said. "Maybe if the two brothers stay together he won't cry."
"Anyway, we're going to the monastery now," Grandmother said. "Damkho, take our elder son and a little butter and yogurt for Alak. Daughter-in-law, it's not good for you to go out today. I will carry the baby boy." She put me in her robe and we set off for the monastery. After the torrential rain of the night before, the grass was covered in drops of water. Many flowers had opened, and the air smelled sweet in the sunshine. The monastery was far away, and it was hard going because of the muddy road and the soaking grass.
"Grandmother," Damkho said, "do you need help carrying the baby? Can you walk all right, holding him?"
"Of course I can walk," she answered. "And if he cries, just let him cry. We're near the monastery now, Jamyang bear witness!" We walked on. As we neared the monastery, we looked toward the Chulong Valley grassland where the golden roofs of Madey Chugama Tashi Chulong Monastery glinted in the sunshine. The incense smoke of the monastery smelled sweet as it drifted toward us. We could hear the voices of the monks chanting rituals, and the music of the drums and brass trumpets. When we saw the monastery, it gave us a deep sense of happiness, and as soon as we arrived we began to pray.
Then my mother rushed up to join us.
"What's going on?" Aunt Damkho said. "Girl, are you mad? You shouldn't have walked all the way here. If you get sick it would be terrible."
"No problem," Grandmother said. "When we were young we'd do the milking and housework the night after giving birth. We never had any problem. It will be OK! Here, take your crying boy and let him suckle. Then, we need to go and see Alak Tagrang."
First we circumambulated the monastery, stopping at each temple and the monks' assembly hall to see the deities, butter lamps, and other treasures. After that, we headed toward Alak Tagrang's chambers. When we reached the entrance, a monk spoke to us.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from My Tibetan Childhood by Naktsang Nulo. Copyright © 2014 Duke University Press. Excerpted by permission of Duke University Press.
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