by Thomas Shor
‘It would be dark when they’d appear, and always the thought would come to me, “These are mine.” I would have this dream at night, and during the day I would forget it. Night after night I’d have this dream, always with the thought that these items reserved for the lamas belonged to me. It was at this time—not long after I had learned to say the words for mama and papa—that I started saying I was Tulshuk Lingpa. I don’t know how his name came to me. I cannot explain it, and to tell you the truth the memory is only dim in my mind. The dream is what I really remember, not the outer events that followed.
‘I do remember that a lama came to the house. He put me on his lap and gave me candy. I took the candy but then I gave it away. He asked me if I was a lama, and I said yes. I also remember looking at the photos under the glass table and choosing the photo of Tulshuk Lingpa.
‘I had long hair then, and they shaved it. I was sent to the monastery in Pangao. They started training me as a lama. Sometimes I used to sneak away and go down the trail to the cave where Tulshuk Lingpa had lived. Whenever I went there, I’d feel very happy.
‘When I was quite young, my father died. He was an alcoholic and died from too much drink.
‘There were many of us young novice monks at the monastery but I was always singled out, given special attention and I always had the feeling of being watched. My status as Tulshuk Lingpa’s reincarnation was controversial. I was expected to both show the powers he possessed and to go bad, as predicted. It was too much for me. Even then, while I was so young, I had an inner feeling. I felt I couldn’t develop at my natural pace if everything I did was being watched and compared to Tulshuk Lingpa, who was such a high lama. The more they tried to put me into a box, the stronger was my instinct to break free. I knew, in my childish way, that my nature couldn’t be put to school.
‘I stayed in the monastery in Pangao until I was about thirteen. I think I was too much trouble for them, so they sent me to the monastery of Mindroling, the high Nyingma lama outside of Dehradun. In Mindroling’s monastery I learned to read the pechas, and I attended many wangs or blessing empowerments performed by Mindroling himself. It was at this time, when I was thirteen-fourteen, that many dharma obstacles arose within me. It was all because people were talking about me and who I was. It affected something in my mind, and I went the other way.
‘I came home for a vacation to see my mother and little sister, and on my way back to the monastery something snapped inside me. I didn’t feel like studying to become a lama. I didn’t want to practice. I just wanted to go away. Where did I want to go? Anywhere! I was on the bus to Dehradun when the bus stopped in a little town on the way, and I just got off the bus and started walking. It was completely unpremeditated. I just couldn’t return to the monastery and all the talk and other people’s expectations and their ideas of how to channel me. After all that was pent up inside me, I went a bit crazy. I wandered without aim, staying a month here, a month there. This was out of the mountains on the Plains.
‘Was it dangerous? Sure! But I was a bit crazy and did a lot of crazy things. I slept on the side of the road. Of course I had no money, so I had to be very quick-witted. It was some months later, after I simply didn’t show up at the monastery, that the monastery secretary contacted my mother to see why I had stayed home. She thought I was at the monastery.
Together, they figured out I must be dead. I suppose for them I was. I was harsh, just taking off and telling no one.’
Raju laughed at the recollection of his wild years. His daughter came in, a delightful seven-year-old. He got her a glass of milk and she plopped down on his lap, looking at us with wide, open eyes as he told us how he ended up in the Punjab where a Punjabi family took him in and raised him as one of their own. The warm way Raju wrapped his arms around his daughter as he spoke showed that the cruelty of not telling his mother where he was, which must have caused her untold pain during his teens, was not an innate quality in him. It was an act borne of necessity, his total disappearance being the only way he could survive the attention drawn on him at too tender an age. ‘The Punjabi family was wonderful,’ he said with a smile. ‘They simply accepted me as they would a son. They didn’t know my background, that I was a monk. They had no idea about the story of the reincarnation. I think I told them I was an orphan.’
Raju was silent for some moments, a painful memory crossing his brow.
‘When I was about eighteen,’ he continued, ‘I decided it was time for me to go home. At the beginning, I didn’t think anything of the pain I must have been causing my mother. But I had studied enough of the dharma to know about the law of karma and that if I caused her such pain, I couldn’t escape similar pain myself. I knew it was simply wrong to cause pain. What pain is worse than that of a mother who loses her child? So I left the Punjabi family. They gave me the bus fare and I returned to the Kullu Valley. I walked into Pangao for the reunion with my mother. I was so happy my self-imposed exile was over.
Raju’s eyes filled with glistening moisture.
‘When I returned, they told me my mother had died of tuberculosis a year earlier.’
Raju’s arms tightened lovingly around his youngest child.
‘Of course, this was a tremendous blow to me. I was agonized, not just because I could never see my mother again or because I could not be there when she died but also from the knowledge that she had died grieving for me. I had a younger sister. She was about the age of this little girl here.’ He ran his hand over the top of his daughter’s hair. ‘She was staying with relatives but nobody had money to take care of her. We were both orphans now. I realized quickly that I was now responsible for her. All I knew was how to be a lama but I didn’t want to do that, so I slowly learned how to do all sorts of work. Because she was an orphan, I was able to get my little sister into a government boarding school where they gave her food, clothes and books. With my guidance, she was able to complete class twelve.
‘Now I know lots of things. I know carpentry, the apple business. I never owned my own apple orchard—it always belonged to others. But I know the business.
‘Then I thought I had to do something else. A friend of mine was driving a taxi and he said, “Come to Manali, and I’ll teach you how to drive.” Because we only did it little by little, it took me three years to learn to drive. Now I can drive a lorry, a bus, a car. It was much later that I got my own car.
‘I never thought I’d marry because on the inside I still considered myself a lama. But everybody, my auntie and all, were telling me “Get married, get married.” But I said, “How can I get married? I don’t have a house. I don’t have fields. I don’t have any money. How can I feed a wife?”
‘My auntie said, “You get married, and I’ll help you with the house and everything. You get a job, earn money and slowly-slowly you’ll learn to look after your wife and then a family.”
‘I was twenty-five when I got married. It was a love marriage.
‘For five years after marriage, my wife was really ill. Then our son was born.
‘During the winters while my wife was sick, I didn’t have work. I had nothing to do. I had to stay inside. So I worked my way back towards the knowledge of being a lama. I had many pechas, and I had learned how to read them. So I started reading. I offered butter lamps every day.
‘I started going to Rampur, near Shimla. I was doing business, small business only. Small business is OK. With big business, big tension. Small business, no headache—family happy, I’m happy.
‘My whole life has been colored by Tulshuk Lingpa. Back when I was a child in Pangao, there was an attendant of Tulshuk Lingpa’s who used to watch me closely. I was pretty crazy even then. He used to say to me, “You are Tulshuk Lingpa. I knew him well, and you have the same tulshuk nature.” Then I would say, “No. I am not Tulshuk Lingpa. I am just a kid.” I would run away from him. I just wanted to be left alone.
‘Of course I’ve always asked myself whether I am the reincarnation of Tulshuk Lingpa, and there are time
s I look deeply within and think, Yes, I am.’
‘I’ve spoken with many people about Tulshuk Lingpa,’ I said, ‘and from what I know about him it was impossible to put him into a box, to say, “You are a lama; you are this or that.” He would break whatever box others tried to put him in. He was well suited to the name Tulshuk. He was always changing and contradicting himself.’
‘I am just the same,’ Raju exclaimed. ‘I’m of two minds. I often set out in one direction and end up going in another. Just ask my wife! It drives her mad but that’s just how I am.
‘When I was living in Rampur, I met a Tibetan nun who was very sick. Her body was full of scars and wounds. I had heard the story of Tulshuk Lingpa curing the lepers in Simoling. While a child at the monastery I had learned how to read the pechas and recite the mantras. Even though I was driving a taxi at the time, I was also feeling the pull back to the dharma. My friends were drivers and some of them were rough people but I was living a pure life. I was waking up early every morning and taking a bath. Before eating anything I’d read the pechas and recite the mantras. I’d do the same every evening. None of my friends who drove taxis and rickshaws had any idea about this aspect of my life. I had to wonder about it myself. In a way, I was just a driver. But then I’ve always had this pull towards the inner life. And I’ve always wondered why.
‘I decided to test it. I told the nun I would try to help her. So one morning I did my morning practice and I went to her. I recited the mantras over her and much to my amazement and to her great joy, she was cured. The boils on her body simply disappeared. It frightened me, and left me with a sense of awe.
‘My wife was also sick at the time. I thought I could try curing her too. I was trembling, afraid to do so. But I did it, and she too was cured. This left me shaken. I never asked for all this attention, though I’ve felt sometimes that I really am Tulshuk Lingpa. Pema Choekyi, Tulshuk Lingpa’s daughter by the khandro, used to come to me when I was a kid. She used to call me Father. I’ve never tried curing people again. Once people get the idea you can cure them, they’ll be lining up outside your door. Wasn’t that Tulshuk Lingpa’s problem, too many people? Wasn’t that why he failed to enter Beyul?
‘Now I’m in my late thirties. I feel something maturing in me. I’ve got these inner feelings, and maybe even abilities, which I’ve never allowed myself to develop. Sometimes I feel the time is coming. I’d like to go on the three year, three month and three day retreat that the lamas go through as part of their training. But I don’t want to do it with the set routine of the practice as it is traditionally done. I want to go somewhere quiet, maybe to a cave, and I want to become a nagpa. I want to let my hair grow long and not cut it. I want to wear it in a knot on my head. I will let my fingernails grow. This urge comes from deep inside me. I want to go there and be quiet and let what is inside me come out.’
Raju’s wife walked into the room. She had been at a neighbor’s. Behind her walked in their twelve-year-old son wearing a T-shirt with a tiger on it with the caption ‘Family’. His wife gave a quizzical look, wondering what these two Westerners were doing sitting on the floor with him sipping tea. Raju introduced us, in much the same way I had introduced Barbara and myself to him.
‘They’ve been living in the Kullu Valley for almost three months,’ he said. ‘Barbara is an anthropologist working on her thesis on long life in Tibetan medicine.’ He paused just long enough for his wife to wonder what that had to do with him. ‘And Thomas,’ he said, winking at me, ‘he’s a writer. He’s writing a book,’ he paused for the theatrical effect. ‘He’s writing a book about … ME!’
The End
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Glossary
Beyul — Tibetan. Literally Hidden Land.
Beyul Demoshong — Tibetan. The hidden land in Sikkim (see Demoshong).
Bonpo — Often regarded as the original Shamanistic religion of Tibet, whose spirits and gods were subdued by Padmasambhava and turned into ‘protectors’ of the dharma or Buddhist teachings.
Chorten — Tibetan (Stupa in Sanskrit). These sacred monuments originally derived from cairns and burial mounds in ancient Asia. Stupas are found throughout the Buddhist world. The Tibetan chorten is usually filled with the relics of a lama or other realized being or with holy objects, texts, etc., and is situated in auspicious locations. Their geometric structure with a square base, hemispherical dome and conical spire crowned by a crescent and disk signifying the moon and sun represents the Buddhist cosmology. Chortens are often found near temples, though they may stand alone, and they usually have a well-worn path called a kora around them along which the faithful circle in a clockwise fashion reciting mantras.
Daka — Sanskrit. Male dakini (see below).
Dakini — Sanskrit (Khandro in Tibetan). Literally: Sky Goer, or Sky Dancer. A female spiritual entity that sometimes takes human form. She can appear to a lama as a vision and act as a guide or revealer of hidden knowledge. If she takes human form, she can not only act as a guide to hidden stores of wisdom but can be his physical consort as well.
Demojong — Tibetan. Literally: Valley of Rice. This is the Tibetan name for the Kingdom of Sikkim, so named because the kingdom’s fertile valleys falling away from the high Tibetan Plateau are well suited to the growing of rice.
Demoshong — Tibetan. Literally: The Great Valley of Rice. This is the name for the Hidden Land, or beyul, that Tibetan tradition maintains is hidden within the Kingdom of Sikkim. Paradoxically, this hidden land is supposedly many times larger than the kingdom itself.
Dharma — Sanskrit (Dhamma in Pali). Literally: that which upholds or supports. In its widest sense, it refers to the order that upholds the cosmos. In the context of this book, it refers to the teachings of the Buddha, especially as understood in a Tibetan Buddhist context.
Dip shing — Tibetan. Literally: invisibility stick. A concoction made from a variety of materials that confers invisibility, so named for one of the main ingredients, a stick from a crows’ nest that when thrown in a swiftly moving stream flows upstream.
Dorje — Tibetan (Vajra in Sanskrit). Means both thunderbolt and diamond. Sometimes used as a name, it refers to the double-sided brass implement used by lamas during religious ceremonies.
Dungsay — Tibetan. An honorific title for the son of a high lama. Thus, Tulshuk Lingpa’s son Kunsang is known as the Dungsay Rinpoche.
Golok — A relatively small region of eastern Tibet between the Kham and Amdo regions. Some consider it part of Kham, others, part of Amdo.
Gompa — Tibetan. Monastery.
Jinda — Tibetan. Sponsor, especially of a lama or monastery.
Khata — Tibetan. A ceremonial scarf, traditionally of silk, now commonly synthetic, which is presented to lamas or other respected members of the community as a greeting or sign of respect.
Kham — Tibetan. A region of eastern Tibet known for its fierce warriors.
Khampa — Tibetan. A person from Kham.
Khandro — Tibetan. See Dakini.
Kora — Tibetan. The circular trail or way around a monastery or other sacred site in the Tibetan world, around which the faithful circle in a clockwise direction reciting mantras. Used also to describe a circumambulation.
Lama — Tibetan (similar to Sanskrit Guru). Loosely analogous to a priest. Strictly speaking, a monk or practitioner of a certain standard. Lamas can be married or not, depending on which branch of Tibetan Buddhism they belong to. The Dalai Lama is the head of the Gelukpa branch of Tibetan Buddhism; he was also the temporal leader of Tibet. His position as compared to other lamas would be roughly analogous to the position of the Pope to other priests.
Lepcha —The indigenous people of Sikkim and the Darjeeling Hills. Also the name of their language. Known for being a peace-loving people, they rarely put up a fight when others encroached on their land. Thus they often ended up living in the most inaccessible land and were subsequently named the Rong by the invading Nepalis. Rong means
‘Ravine Folk’. The Lepchas believe themselves to have been created from the high pristine snows of Mount Kanchenjunga. They call themselves the Matanchi Rongkup, or Mother’s Beloved Children.
Lingpa — Tibetan. A special class of lama with the gift of being able to find hidden treasures (terma: see below) and hidden lands. The more common title for treasure-revealing lamas is terton (see below). While there is no consensus on exactly how a lingpa differs from other tertons they are generally seen to be the elite of the tertons.
Mala — Sanskrit. The ubiquitous rosary of Tibetan Buddhists with 108 beads, used to count the recitation of mantras.
Mantra — Sanskrit. Sacred syllable or set of syllables repeated in meditation or while circumambulating sacred sites. The most common mantra in the Tibetan world is the mantra of Chenresig, the Buddha of Compassion, Om Mani Padme Hung. Another common mantra is that of Padmasambhava, Om Ah Hung Vajra Guru Pema Siddi Hung.
Mayel Lyang — Lepcha. Literally: Hidden Land. The indigenous Lepchas’ name for their land, which comprises modern Sikkim, the Darjeeling Hills and adjacent parts of Nepal and Bhutan.
Melong — Tibetan. Mirror. In the context of this book, referring to the convex polished brass mirror used in divination.
Myonpa — Tibetan. Crazy person.
Naga — Sanskrit. Serpent deities, often connected with water, springs and moist places.
Nagpa — Tibetan. A Tibetan tantric yogi who doesn’t cut his hair, commonly wears a white robe instead of the burgundy robe common to other lamas and often has sexual relations.
Nyingma — Tibetan. The oldest of the four main branches of Tibetan Buddhism. The others are the Kagyu, Sakya and Geluk.
Neyik — Tibetan. Guidebook to a hidden land.
Pecha — Tibetan. Unbound religious scripture written on long rectangular sheets, which are stacked between wooden blocks and wrapped in cloth.
Puja — Sanskrit. Ritual.
