129682
PENTHOUSE
OF THE GODS
ryruwi
PENTHOUSE
of the GODS
A Pilgrimage into the Heart
of Tibet and the Sacred
City of Lhasa
By
THEOS BERNARD
CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS LTD LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1030, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced %n any form without
the permission of Charles Scnbner's Sont
To
VIOLA
CONTENTS.
I. ECSTASY I
II. THE QUEST 28
III. GYANTSft 62
IV. TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE 91
V. FROM GYANTSfi TO LHASA 124
VI. THE FORBIDDEN CITY 161
VII. SHRINES, AND MORE SHRINES ' 185
VIII. I AM INITIATED 204
IX. I ESCAPE WITH MY LIFE 221
X. FURTHER EDUCATION OF A LAMA 243
XI. MORE SIGHTS, MORE CEREMONIES 267
XII. SIDELIGHTS AND INSIGHTS 289
XIII. GATHERING UP THE LAST THREADS 310
INDEX 339
ILLUSTRATIONS
The white Lama Theos Bernard Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
Temple worship 6
Worship in the Temple of the Dalai Lama 7
Great mesh screens protect gold images 8
A Deity in the Chamber of Horrois 9
Under the Tibetan Plateau 36
lake among the clouds 37
Head lama of the Kaigyupa Monastery 42
A Tibetan mendicant with his teapot 42
It never pays to poison 43
Asking for alms 43
The author crossing a trail through a cliff 46
My transport winding its way up the Lhasa Valley 47
Resting at the foot of Chumolhari 50
Crossing a i6,ooo-fbot pass 51
One of the guardians at the Gyants6 Monastery 64
Temple carvings and paintings by Lama artists 65
Mural painting of the late Dalai Lama 66
A mural painting of one of their Goddesses 67
fix]
Illustrations
FACING PAGE
The Kigu Banner hangs one hour once a year 72
The famous black hat dance 73
Jewelled headdress worn by noblewomen from Tsang province 80
Back view of same headdress 80
Tsarong Lacham of Lhasa 80
Rear view of headdress worn by noblewomen of Central Tibet 80
Jigme 8 *
Tenna Rajah 81
Tsarong Shap6 8 1
Mary 8x
Tibetan children 108
Tibetan children 109
Crossing those mountainous plateaus of solitude 132
A small Tibetan village where author spent the night 133
The Penthouse of the Gods taken from Chakpori 146
Stairways leading into the temple of the Penthouse of the Goda 147
The author before the Holy of Holies 1 50
A street scene in Lhasa 1 51
Presents sent by the government on my arrival 1 66
The author with two of his Tibetan lady friends 167
The author with the Prime Minister of Tibet 167
A Tibetan artist at work 172
A young carver 173
I*]
Illustrations
FACING PAGE
Lamas reading proof 173
The Dalai's printing establishment at the Potala 174
Stacks where wood blocks are kept at the Dalai Lama's printing
establishment 175
The golden gargoyle on the roof over the late Dalai Lama's
tomb ' 1 86
A door handle 186
Temple decorations 186
Incense burner and ornaments 187
The author photographing among the Lamas 190
Coppcrwarc made by native craftsmen 191
The author with the King Regent of Tibet 194
Bodyguard of the King Regent 195
The author next to the glowing altar of thousand lights 200
Ceremony at tomb of the late Dalai Lama 201
Trail leading around old Chakpori 214
Shrine of the thousand Buddhas 2x5
The author examining Tibetan manuscripts
A Tibetan scholar
A Tibetan beggar
A moment's pause a 37
A daily news bulletin hanging in the bazaar at Lhasa 250
Sounding trumpets from top of the Potala 251
Drcpung Monastery, the largest in the world 256
[xi]
Illustrations
FACING PAGE
Sunrise service at Drepung Monastery 257
Sera Monastery, second largest in Tibet 278
The four head Lamas of Sera Monastery 279
The author with the lay and Lama officials of the Dalai Lama 316
The author visiting with the Rakasha family 317
Yaks used for transport in Tibet 330
A Tibetan Burial 331
Crossing a river m a Tibetan Yak-skin boat 33 x
Ganden Monastery, third largest in Tibet 334
A Lama debating 335
The golden image of the coming Buddha 336
A golden image of Buddha 337
[A]
PENTHOUSE
OF THE GODS
CHAPTER I
ECSTASY
EE began to stir in the middle of the night, as preparations
were being made for the great ceremony. With the dawn
I was awakened by the rhythmic beating of drums, the
ceaseless drone of sixteen-foot trumpets and the vibrant chant-
ing of thousands of Lamas, as they filed their way to the slab-
paved courtyard of the famous temple.
For an instant I was startled, wondering where I was that
I should experience such strange sensations. Then I remem-
bered- This was the presaging for me of the day of days: I was
to appear before the Pri Rimpoche, the highest Lama of Tibet,
who was to instal me with my vestments after this ultimate
ritual initiation. For months this divine soul had been the un-
foreseen guide of my destiny} it was he who had prepared me
for this final step* *
These great ceremonial initiations might be compared to our
own festive occasions at graduation, when the diploma is pre-
sented to the student, confirming the bestowal upon the candi-
date of certain knowledge which for a period he has been re-
ceiving. As one attains the more advanced stages, the ritual
assumes a less formal tone; in the final mystical initiation the
initiate merely sits in silent meditation with his mentor, who
endows him with an inner revelation by the means of thought
transference.
There was unusual significance to this particular initiation.
The fact is, I, the person about to be initiated hjto Tibetan
Penthouse of the Gods
sacred mysteries, was no native, no Tibetan, not even an Ori-
ental, but an American, hailing from Arizona. And here, at the
end of the ceremony, I would become a full-fledged JJuddhkt
monk, a Lama.
The servants had brought my early morning buttered tea,
which it is customary to take upon awakening. They appeared
to be more excited than I over this historic event; never be-
fore had an American been accepted. It was, indeed, not as u
stranger that I was being permitted to receive this divine henc
diction; I had been accepted as one of their own, as a reincarna-
tion of one of their celebrated Saints, Fate had brought it about
that I should be reborn in the Western world that I might
learn of its forms and customs, and now the same fate had re
stored me to my homeland that I might have my inner con*
sciousness reawakened, and thus become mindful of that old
soul that was silently guiding the footsteps of this physical form
into which it had passed for its further development*
This was how they interpreted my action in leaving America
and in coming to them. So it was not a mystery to them how 1
came always to do the right thing when passing through these
various esoteric initiations, and why it was possible for me to
possess such a deep comprehension of all their teachings. My
subconscious self had directed my thoughts and guided my de
sires so that I simply had to come to them, and each successive
initiation was no more than a reawakening of my true self.
Otherwise, it would have been scarcely possible for me to ad*
vance so rapidly. They explained that often a man will have to
experience many existences before it is possible for him to be
sufficiently prepared to receive the next initiation, and here I
had prepared myself for the final initiation within the incredi-
ble space of a few months.
My emotions ran highj little time was wasted in preparing
to descend to the temple room. Dressing for the event was a
Ecstasy
relatively simple task. I donned a golden silken robe with a
sash around the waist j the garment was cut on lines very much
like those worn by the Chinese. My boys insisted on an immac-
ulate appearancej they almost irritated me with the pains they
took in arranging each separate fold, where the material is
doubled back, so that all might be smooth in front. The long
silken sash around my waist had been especially pressed for the
occasion. Altogether, I felt almost too prim to bend, or sit.
This self-conscious moment went as quickly as it cames soon
I was lost again in the excitement of the event.
While waiting for the summons, I stood by the small open
window to fill my Jungs with that fresh rarefied air which en-
velops this monastery hidden away in the arms of heaven at an
elevation of sixteen thousand feet. The distant horizon was still
veiled in the early morning mist, which was rapidly evaporat-
ing with the increase of daylight. All nature was astir, even as
was every cell in my body. I could hardly wait} had I not spent
years in actual preparation of this event? Until now it had only
been a secret dream, and even at this moment I almost feared
to trust my own feelings; was this event really going to take
place? At all times I had held fast to my faith in the old teach-
ing that one should never contemplate the end, but ever be
about the task of preparing oneself, secure in the knowledge that
when one was ready the teacher would appear. And now the
truth of this saying was manifesting itself j so I mulled over the
thought that I must not lose myself in the torrent of emotions
which this event would release, but content myself with the
knowledge that it was to be only another step and that I should
accept it only as part of my whole training, as a preparation for
a yet greater goal.
2
At last the summons came, and we made haste to the tem-
ple room. The attendant Lamas carried the long silk scarves
Penthouse of the Gods
known as fata, which are used as offerings before all shrines
when we ask for the blessings and protection of their unending
pantheon of Holy Hosts.
One of the beautiful things about the Tibetan is his seeming
irrelevance in mixing up the external forms with the details
of existence which has its place behind the scene. Thus, for ex-
ample, our descent to the temple led us through the immense
kitchens, where great vats in which the tea is made could be
seen steaming, as the workmen lifted the covers to sec if it was
ready. These huge kettles, some of them four feet deep and
eight feet in diameter, made of heavy metal cast in Tibet, re-
pose on high brick ovens, beneath which large quantities of
yak dung are stoked, filling the rooms with soot. This soot has
been collecting on the walls for centuries, and, in consequence,
the place is darker than a coal mine- The workmen are attired
in rags, which shine with an accumulation of grease. They take
great pride in this attire, and when a new garment comes their
way, which is perhaps once in a lifetime, they promptly cover it
with grease as a foundation coat for the encrustations of grease
in the years to come. Their faces are even blacker than the walls,
and only lighted up with a smile; for they are a cheerful lot,
taking inordinate pride in their work. The tea for the T'ri Uim~
poche is made separate from the rest. His tea is not only a su-
perior quality, but the butter with which it is made is infinitely
fresher; the tea of the others is often made with butter several
years old. Again, a supervision is maintained against the possi-
bility of any attempt to poison this deified mortal,
We traversed this chamber of toil, holding our skirts high to
protect them from the grease and filth on the floors. We left one
cell of dark oblivion only to enter another and another, until at
last we emerged in a court leading to the main temple j the win-
dows were few and far between* The slab-paved pavilion was
packed with countless mounds of holiness, as the Lamas sat in
[4]
Ecstasy
silent prayer, waiting for the rising sun. From beneath their
bowed heads I could detect the young acolytes furtively watch-
ing out of the corners of their eyes: Were they human? To dis-
cover this, I would smile at them in passing, and was usually
rewarded with a smile. The high throne upon which I was to
remain in silence with the coming sun was waiting for mej a
well-disciplined escort urged me to make haste, for the golden
rays of light were already beginning to bathe the heavens.
The impressive silence of the morning was being rent with
the low muffled sounds of those long sixteen-foot trumpets, and
their vibrant volume swelled by the chants of the Lamas filled
the air with a strange ecstasy. Life was born again, and each soul
lived for a new beginning. Once the sun had passed above the
horizon visible to man, all lapsed quietly into the peace of the
morning, and listened to the awakening soul within.
The time had come for all to file into the large temple room.
Military discipline made this a simple taskj it was a matter of
only a few minutes, and I returned to a complete awareness of
the events of the morning. The courtyard had been made clean
from end to end; within the temple I could hear the prepara-
tions being made for the ceremony. I approached the immense
door, which was guarded by one who waited until I had re-
cited my mantras (mystic sounds), this in order to purify my-
self before entering the holy sanctuary, in which I was to receive
a divine dispensation. For an instant I hesitated: I did not know
why the door was closed, and, as if there were another person
within me, and advised by him, I paused on the threshold,
my head bowed, while I uttered a silent prayer. The bolted
barrier slowly swung open.
The great temple room is without windows. Its sole source
of light is from the opening above the first story roof of the
building, where the inner nave extends beyond; this is cov-
ered over with a long drapery of woven yak hair, in order to
[5]
Penthouse of the Gods
keep the rains and the snows from beating down into the
temple room, which might prove ruinous to the elaborate wall
paintings.
As I stepped across the sanctified threshold, I found my-
self enveloped in a stream of sunlight flowing in from above*
I promptly prostrated myself in that cascade of sunbeams,
and, while lying there in humble devotion, bathed by the
golden light, I dived for a fleeting instant into the innermost
depths of human consciousness. An overwhelming emotion
filled me, and I understood the wonder which held the faith-
ful to this ancient cult,
I rose to my feet, and stood aside, while others in my
party were finishing their three devotional prostrations. The
great hall was vibrant with the prayers chanted by countless
Lamas seated cross-legged, heads bowed, upon raised flat
benches placed in endless rows. Draped from the shoulders
with garnet capes of rags, they formed parallel aisles of holi-
ness, all merging into a single mass as they receded into the
remote darkness of the opposite end of the nave. The mas-
sive pillars of wood urged one's eyes to the ceiling from
which descended Jong paintings on canvas, bordered with
three colors of silk. Some of these themgkasfor thus these
sacred paintings are called were fifteen feet in length, and
their broad edges of costly silk added to their expanse* They
told the story of Tibetan religious leaders and saints*
The flickering of a thousand and more butter lamps lighted
the way for us as we advanced slowly toward the high throne
of the T'ri Rimpoche, and it was as if I were being borne
along on the waves created by the tremulous murmuring*
of the chanting Lamas. The dais upon which h*> the T'ri
Rimpoche, sat was some twelve feet above the floor; and it
was needful to perform many cleansing rites before the altars
below, upon which stood the deities moulded in gold and
[6]
Ecstasy
gleaming in the yellow light o the sacred offerings of the
eternal light of knowledge. But it is scarcely possible to crys-
tallize such emotions as were experienced there into the frozen
form of words.
Hours went by in these devotional rites. This is hardly as-
tonishing, for no detail could or had been overlooked in the
intensive preparation of my consciousness for the experience
yet ahead of me. Their teaching is that there are no gaps in
nature- Everything unfolds according to a divine rule. The
individual can do no more than hasten this process, which is
slow at best. They have a saying here: a seed can never pop
into a tree. It must pass through each of its several stages,
even as does the worm- that eventually becomes a beautiful
butterfly. Thus, also, was it essential that plenty of time be
allotted for each of these rites to take effect within the depths
of my inner self. If one tried to skip a single phase of spir-
itual maturation, he would be sure to find himself in the
blind alley of delusion. The planting of the seed is the first
step, and this was being done by the repetition of the mantras
given me by my unforeseen mentor. While I was reciting
these mystic syllables the lamaist choir went on with its heavy
bombardment of monotonous chants, occasionally broken by
the tinkling of thousands of tiny bells used as a part of their
mystic rites. The mere movement of their hands and twisting
of their fingers, as they went from one mudra (mystic posture)
to another, symbolic of certain attitudes of the imagination,
acted as a hypnotic spun
Finally I was conducted into the black chamber of horrors,
hidden away behind bolted doors, whose locks required keys
as large as automobile cranks in order to open them, A young
acolyte guided our footsteps with a small butter light, which
Penthouse of the Gods
he held close to the floor that the way might be seen, until I
entered a chamber, one foot sliding after the other in order
to be certain of my footing, all of which recalled to my mind
an experience of childhood, when I used to wander through
the mines with the aid of a candle. We could see only a brief-
distance ahead, and for the moment all that was visible was
the glowing light of a large butter lamp, which held sufficient
fuel to burn several months without replenishment.
We sighted an altar. Above it reposed a symbol which rep-
resented the destructive aspect of that great creative force
within, on the verge of release. This enormous demon stood
in an array of flames, crushing beneath his feet the bodies of
human beings, while from the great mound upon which he
rested there trickled endless rivulets of blood. He possesses
many arms, each carrying a weapon of destruction, thereby re-
vealing the many avenues the human being is offered for
self-destruction, which he may escape only by understanding.
The same chamber harbored other fiends, standing in, sexual
embrace with their deified consorts, draped with necklaces of
human skulls, intended to convey the transitoriness of human
existence with its fleeting passions of the senses. Kach is sym-
bolic of a stage in the development of human consciousness
in its earthly evolution. It is taught here that there is only
one force in life, but that it has an infinite number of mani-
festations j only through knowledge is it possible to direct this
force. To the initiate this knowledge is essential, since it stim-
ulates his imagination and provides him with the key for the
release of the internal power of man.
This vast chamber is always kept under guard and under
lock and key, so that the unmstructcd may not have the op-
portunity to sec these hideous forms 5 there Ls too much dan-
ger of their being interpreted literally and not in their sym-
bolic form' It is argued that the revelation they offer is eso~
[8]
Hcstasy
teric, and that it is impossible to pass on knowledge until the
consciousness of the individual is prepared to receive it. The
individual will never grasp their meaning merely by reading
all the books and imbibing all the teachings. He must be pre-
pared, and in this he must follow the processes of nature her-
self j there are things to be learned only through sorrow and
misfortune. This preparation usually takes a great deal of
time, and unti] the pupil is ready, a contemplation of these
can only be productive of considerable harm.
We seated ourselves below the altar which pedestalled this
objective representation of the destructive channels of the
stream of life. The khorlo > or circle, was headed by the high
priest who has the power over this esoteric knowledge. Awak-
ened by the solemn darkness of the sanctuary, I first heard
the low rumbling drone of his chants, which he repeated for
the purpose of preparing us. Then his assistants slowly joined,
intensifying the vibrant echoes of this dungeon of holiness.
Soon I began to repeat the mcmtras which had been provided
me, until my entire being felt like the buzzing wings of a bum-
ble-bee. I knew that I had to control this and to direct the
energy which was being stirred up through the channels of the
sympathetic nervous system. My months of training in the
Yoga practices were useful here, even essential. The test was
yet to come, and it was whether or not I had developed suf-
ficient power of control to direct that energy so as to contact
the hidden reservoirs of the imagination in the subconscious.
With each succeeding step the internal pressures of the body
became more fierce, and I began to understand their power of
destruction* It was only by sheer will power that I was able to
hold on, fully aware as I was that here was the opportunity
for which I had been so long preparing; this experience was a
conscious dip into the eternal flow of life. The agony became
terrifying, and had I given vent to the thoughts of fears which
[9]
Penthouse of the Gods
were beginning to beset me I should have burst forth scream-
ing and not stopped running until I either went mad or
touched the borderline of madness. But I had come to do or
die. I had grown weary of reading what others had to say
about what these esoteric rites might reveal to me, and I hiul
long ago decided that it was for me to dedicate my life to
being a spiritual guinea-pig that I might give others the hcnc
fit of my experience. It was for me to hold on. I was re-
minded of the days when I stopped on the banks of a hike
while a friend who was a strong swimmer trod water, implor
ing me to jump in and assuring me that he would save me. 1 Ie
spent days expatiating on the joys of swimming. Fear, how-
ever, restrained me; until one day some one came along and
pushed me in. And thus I learned to swim- At thi* moment,
girding myself with the teachings of the ancient sages, I felt
infusions of faith, and was ready to go the limit.
I observed an assistant speaking to the officiating high priest.
Then the vibrations were changed, and a new mantr* was be-
ing repeated, and another was given me. Slowly I began to
read it, repeating it after my mentor. Each line was the same,
but a different syllable was stressed at the end of each phrase.
The entire internal rhythm was changing, ever swelling- The
walls almost seemed to sway with the ever increasing drone erf
beating drums, blaring horns and clashing cymbals. My im-
agination was beginning to run wild. I had learned by now
how to sit apart and watch the inner-self function. Yet I wan
in constant fear of being swept away by these mystical rites,
which utilize every known emotional phenomenon.
In the midst of this spiritual storm, everything suddenly
seemed dispelled as by some mysterious magic; the tinkling
bells could be felt, when all receded, and we meditated in the
dead silence of darkness. It will never be possible for me to
express in words what actually took place. It was something
[to]
Ecstasy
beyond the realm of the mind and, therefore, beyond the ex-
pression of name and form.
Moreover, the philosophical instructions which appertain to
these ritualistic forms would take up several volumes. It is not
within the province of this record to do more than to treat of
some of the broader aspects of universal experience interpreted
in the light of the customs to be found in the Penthouse of
the Gods.
The ceremony was over, and a new world had been opened
to me. Now it was for me to remain and reflect upon this vol-
cano of subconscious power in the light of the teachings which
had been previously given me, of which these fiendish plastic
forms were some of the symbols. Beginning with the first chief
image which had caught my eye before entering into the cere-
mony, I was deliberately to study each and to interpret its in-
ner meaning. Not until then did I fully realize the wisdom of
those who had created these hideous forms of devastation. Be-
fore me so it had seemed to me at first had stood a fiend
of destruction j but now it had become a symbol of the greatest
force of nature, that creative flow of nature in the eternal bat-
tic to penetrate its way from the subconscious into the con-
scious, giving intelligent guidance to each separate personality.
I had no way of telling how many hours had passed since I
first entered this hell, or heaven call it what you will for
I was in a world in which the phenomenon of time did not
exist. It was as if I had come back for a rebirth, memory of
my past lives assisting me in my new orientation, with the
prospect of future experiences; since this was merely the be-
ginning of that for which I was being prepared. It was, indeed,
a test.
And now to find out if I had passed,
fill
Penthouse of the Gods
I was conducted to the altar below the dais, upon which sat
the T'ri Rimpoche, shut away from the vision of all yet in
full command of every one within this vast temple chamber.
The officiating Lama turned from the altar with a silver jar
of holy water. This he poured into my hands, from which I
sipped, placing the remainder on my head. Then he who had
been conducting me through the ceremonies returned with a
small image of Buddha, a Tibetan book and a sacred scarf,
symbolic of the eternal truth, knowledge and the divine knot
of life. This told me that I was to be accepted and permitted
to receive his blessing j for in some mysterious way he knew
that I had gained the inner realization.
Prior to ascending the stairway, I was taken before the gold-
en image of Buddha} here I was to meditate on the meaning of
each of the symbols as they were being mystically prepared
for the offering. As soon as, by the means of certain mantras,
everything was firmly fixed in my mind and my consciousness
so arrested that I was wholly oblivious to everything else, lost
in the spiritual intoxication of the mystic chants, my mentor
beckoned to me to follow* Slowly we ascended the stairways,
and it seemed as if I were about to climb into the attic of
Heaven, taking this bodily form with mej for the conscious-
ness was no longer that of the personality who had first en-
tered this great temple room. With each step my vision grew
increasingly obscure, until complete darkness encompassed me.
What was the meaning of this? Was I to be deprived of the
glory of seeing him after all this arduous ritualistic ordeal?
Even in the midst of this reflection I caught a glimpse of
a ray of light I did not know whence it came, but after I had
climbed high enough for my eyes to fall above the floor of his
throne I looked up, and I saw his radiant face silhouetted
against a tiny beam of sun that filtered through the thick dark-
ness from a removed panel in the upper wall of his sanctuary-
Mt < A Ecstasy
Promptly I paid my deep respects with the three customary
prostrations before him, after which I took my place on a low
raised platform set apart for me. What was I to do next, and
what was going to happen to me? Was some astonishing miracle
about to be worked? I let an inner hand guide my actions,
while I tried to tuck away conscious notes, so that I might be
able to relive the experience again in memory.
Soon his hands began to move slowly in the air as they
gracefully formed different mudras, before proceeding to the
reading of different prayers, to which I responded. To this day
I wonder how I knew what to say, though I do not now remem-
ber what I did say. It was as if I were a member of an orches-
tra, and the conductor turned to me with his baton, from which
emanated his subconscious feelings, and I responded in kind,
naturally and automatically, without consciousness other than
that of being an integral part of this spiritual symphony. Three
assistants stood in front of him, holding the objects which had
been so carefully prepared for the offering*
Acting upon a prompting within, I rose from my cross-
legged posture, and as I stood up before him a strange feeling
crept over me; I suddenly realized that I was about to receive
from him the power and authority to pass on what had been
given me to others.
As I offered each symbolic object to him I felt the warm
'pressure of his fingers and his forehead touching my headj
something was generously released in me when, finally, his
divine hands formed a spiritual cap over my head. No one
spoke; words were, indeed, superfluous here. When the cere-
mony was over, I had the feeling that I had been talking with
him for a lifetime and had spent years studying under his guid-
ance, A torrent of thoughts poured through my mind, as I re-
viewed every year of my life; yet they appeared to have noth-
ing to do with me as I had known myself. And, again, this was
[13]
Penthouse of the Gods
an inexpressible experience, which left an indelible impression
beyond the power of words.
After a blessing from the T'ri Rimpoche, I left his presence,
overflowing with the energy which he had caused to be released
from my subconscious. It yet remained to me to make a devo-
tional tour of the sacred shrines and temples of the monastery
and to arcumambulate the monastery walls, before he would
install me with my vestments and give me my last instructions
prior to taking the vows and being clothed with the power and
authority to pass on the teachings to others.
Cautiously we descended to the world of name and form,
symbolized by the endless rituals performed in the temple
room below, where the Lamas were still repeating their chants.
The acolytes were waiting for us at the foot of the stairs, with
their small butter lamps to guide us through the long narrow
passages leading to the innermost sanctuaries of the monastery.
We began the tour by visiting the tomb of the founder of
this religious sect. I have heard it said that every few years
the tomb is opened and the body dressed, this procedure hav-
ing been followed through the centuries. It has been further
said that the skin is still in perfect condition and thar the nails
and hair of this honored saint are still growing, making it
necessary to give him a periodical hair-cut, according to the
custom of this order of monks* The entrance to the tomb is
protected by a large shrine, containing a large image of a pro
tecting deity* Within the room, on each side of the entrance,
there hung from the ceiling a number of large stuffed yaks*
while just over the doorway there was a large stuffed tiger, In
the middle of this outer room was an enormous yak which,
according to legend, was the one which the founder of the mon-
astery used to ride to the valley four thousand fcet below, and
Ecstasy
back. The other yaks were reputed to be those which had been
used in carrying the rock employed in the construction of this
series of vast structures, situated nearly sixteen thousand feet
above sea-level, remote from the turmoil of an agitated, ma-
terialistic world of men. The tiger had been sent as a gift to
the head Lama, thus bestowing upon it the privilege of gath-
ering dust in this lofty shelter of the Gods.
Before the image, and hanging from the four walls, were
weapons in endless variety. These had been used in the defence
of the faith in the early centuries, after Buddhism first began
to filter into the country, which was in the seventh century.
They consisted mostly of spears, shields, armor plate, metal
lace jackets, bows and arrows, swords, and the crude Tibetan
musket One was expected to inspect these historical souvenirs
with the same measure of devotion as that of worshipping be-
fore a shrine. A door of this antechamber opened on a large
room in which was built the chonewr- the sacred cairn contain-
ing the body of the honored saint. Before its altars I offered the
sacred scarf, then walked through the dark pathway bordering
round the tomb, taking holy water from the officiating Lama
before leaving this cell of sanctity.
By now the Lama assigned to the task of escorting us around
the monastery walls arrived on the scene. He led us through
the narrow canyons of holiness which served as the streets of
the monastery} these consisted of the confined passageways left
between the huge stone buildings.
The trail led to a narrow ledge on the brim of nowhere, so
that it was possible for us to get around the cliff which formed
the back wall of this spiritual superstructure nestled in the
shelter of a Himalayan wing of rock. The effort to gain alti-
tude was deemed the greatest test of one's spiritual sincerity,
because the first physical reaction was the inclination to lie
down, and the attitude of mind that went with it was the ques-
Penthouse of the Gods
tioning as to what was to be gamed from the circumambul.it ion
of the monastery other than the vision of this indescribable
canyon of the Gods. It was not for me to settle the doubts
raised, for the next step was the one for which I had really
been working; this was the mystical initiation, free from all
ritualistic formalism- The deeper one penetrates in this journey
into the subconscious, the less ritual one encounters.
*~i? is the Tibetan teaching that the world in which we live
is one purely of name and form in other words, one of mnul.
Hence, it is essential for the mind to have something tangible
to grasp in order that it may function effectively, its inherent
nature being that of activity. It is argued that if the individual
fails to provide it with food for thought, the mind will func-
tion in vacuum, conjuring up an infinite variety of ideas having
no real direction, or many directions. Therefore, the individual
must give it these concrete external forms to serve as symboK
on which it can reflect Yet as a child soon learns to read with-
out running its finger along after each word ami mumbling
with its lips, so the individual must develop his faculties for
inner penetration and learn to do without such external fat tors.
It is the Tibetan contention that man must first learn of hi^
own incapacities, and at that point begins his discipline, and
through the arduous process of continuous repetitions he can
attain the more subtle ways, until he can deal direct with the
subconscious. Here, however, the mind comes into its own-
Tie mind, indeed, is a tool serving the individual in gather-
ing in the facts through his different senses, and equally a an
instrument for the personal expression of his inner self, Kvx-ry
thing must pass through the mind, which is not only the tool
of consciousness but also the most highly &pcduli%ed tool of
precision that man has for his own destruction*
The mystical initiation still before me was one in which
there was no ritual whatsoever; for the previous initiations
Ci6]
Ecstasy
were supposed to have prepared the initiate to receive direct
from his spiritual mentor the power that he wished to trans-
fer to him, even while both sat as still, and as attuned to each
other, as two wireless towers in the heart of Death Valley.
We had proceeded but a few hundred yards, when our guide
began to point out the places about which the moss of re-
ligious tradition had gathered. Almost every crack and crevice
of the hillside had some story connected with it. In some places
there was moss, whereupon the guide would stop to explain
to me that their great saint had once thrown the cuttings from
his hair to the winds and they, having landed here, had been
growing ever since. There were many places where the Precious
One had come for an hour's reflection. And, indeed, at these
points I did receive considerable inspiration} the vistas alone
were enough to make any one gasp in mystical awe, to say
nothing of the Truths of Life taught by him and which must
have come to him precisely during the brief pauses on this mar-
vellous way.
Well did I realize that in order to sound such depths of
human understanding it was first necessary to establish a flow
between the personal and the universal aspects of the individual,
so that it would be possible to direct those torrents of the racial
subconscious of man into the conscious aspect of this mortal
self. Meditating upon this, I accepted each of these pauses as
an opportunity for filling my mind with thoughts of fortitude,
that I might be strong enough to endure the preparation for
this final of initiations, which was to reveal to me the keenly
guarded teachings of the sages of ageless Asia. One of the
essential Tibetan teachings is that the motivating factor of this
endless chain of rebirths is that of ideas j so that our only es-
cape from the "Wheel of Life" is by storing the consciousness
with the right ideas, which come from true understanding.
Once a subconscious flickering becomes crystallized into an
[17]
Penthouse of the Gods
idea, the individual is ready to take off in a flight of action,
but until that moment comes he will merely sit atouiul ami
bask in the intoxicating radiance of his own flkkcrings.
We came to a place where we were shown the water level
to be reached by the next great flood j the monasteiy w;b in-
sured safety by being built on the crags above. Likewise was
it indicated to us how high the flames will reach when the
world is destroyed by fire.
These tales have their own interest, because they reveal how
their highly symbolistic teachings are accepted ami k'licved
literally by the less informed* At times the superstitions of
the ignorant believers arc incredible. But the great teachers
deem this an essential beginning, in much the same way that
among us the belief in Santa Glaus is supposed to help small
children in doing the right thing. There are no idle supersti-
tions in the world. If one should investigate them he would
find that they serve a useful function for the common muss,
permitting social development, which, in its own turn, holds
the individual in harness until he is able to proceed alone with
his inner evolution, which is the purpose of his existence.
Now on the downhill grade of our devotional tour, which
consisted of about a mile in all,, we next stopped sit the tiny
meditative chamber, chiselled into a cliff of solid rock- It was
built at some distance from the main part of the monastery, so
that the Precious One could be left wholly undisturbed } and
it was cut into the ground to allow him to get away from all
the vibratory effects. which are continually subjecting the Mir*
face of the earth* When a person is thoroughly prepared to
enter such a cell of solitary confinement, he is already highly
sensitized to the vibrations of the world, even swt is the radio,
which is the mechanical manifestation of something those of
the East professed countless centuries ago. An individual may
spend a lifetime in the effort to prepare himself to undergo
Ci8j
Ecstasy
the experience of solitary confinement as the final step in the
ultimate initiation. For here no one feels that everything must
be done during one's liftetime. The great Wheel of Life will
continue through eternity, and until they gain "understanding"
they are forever bound to this sequence of endless deaths and
rebirths. Life is filled with pain and suffering. Hence, they strive
to advance at least a single step during this lifetime, regardless
of how infinitesimal this advance might be. They do not try for
the golden ideal and fail at every thing. /the first instruction to
be imparted to the student is never to be concerned about the
end. One step at a time, the next will inevitabljjr Jojiloweven
without a teacher, who can only be a guide. The a^mglishmept
is up to the individual.^
The mentally impoverished will often go insane in a cell of
solitary confinement j so extreme caution is used in permitting
one to undertake this preparation. The length of time to be
spent in the cell depends largely upon the individual and the
measure of his development. Has he the fortitude? Toj^hat
depths can he dive into the subconscious? There alone can he
find the needful guidance.
The most interesting part of the visit to this cell was the
contemplation of the vast richness of Tsong-Khapa, who had
been able to find such joy in a spot so isolated from the rest
of the world. He did not have any of the things deemed so
vital to human happiness in the West, Indeed, at the time of
his life, the United States had not even come into existence. It
would be a strange world if only the people of a particular
century and of a particular country of this vast globe could
find that which has been termed salvation. Here is a people
wholly isolated from all that the West thinks so essential for
development.. It has reached the conclusion that inner growth
[19]
Penthouse of the Gods
may be attained regardless of externals, save for shelter and
enough food to protect the body, which is primarily an instru-
ment for the maturation of the soul/Jfkcording to this people's
tenets, if one were given the knowledge of these truths, it
would be possible for him to fulfill his purpose during this exis-
tence regardless of circumstance, and thereby be liberated from
all desires which only seem necessary.
These are real questions, and it was to answer them that
the mystical initiation was designed. The mere realization of
this in itself provided me with sufficient fortitude to face the
approaching ordeal, yes, even to the point of death, so eager
was I to receive the ultimate understanding that I was seeking.
The guide of this devotional tour appeared somewhat rest-
less, and, sensible of the fact that there yet remained a great
deal to be done, I checked the inner flow and continued my
way on to the monastery, where a repast was awaiting me-
With all their holiness they seemed to be fully aware of the
demands of the flesh, and at the same time cognizant of just how
long the food for the soul might sustain the body. The saving
grace of the Tibetan is his habit of drinking tea. Tea goes on
being served throughout the dayj it seems to be brewing al-
most round every corner j it has been served to me in the most
unheard-of places. On entering the monastery, we went to the
division which always took charge of non-Tibetans. Upon my
sitting down to partake of refreshment, preliminary to another
visit to the T'ri Rimpoche, who would give me final command-
ments on taking my last vows, the room assumed an air of
bustle, as the attendant Lamas hurried from all directions to
join in the real meal which was being rushed from the distant
kitchens to this hidden dining room. It was good to rest the
weary feet, which had been lugging around Tibetan boots over
that sky-high thoroughfare of devotion. Only a couple of min-
utes elapsed before a large tray arrived with an endless van-
[20]
Ecstasy
ety of tasty native tidbits, at which I soon nibbled with chop-
sticks. Throughout the meal butter tea was repeatedly served,
and at the conclusion of the meal still greater quantities of tea
were graciously offered, and the politeness of the custom calls
for the development of a capacity for its consumption.
Once I had been served, my retinue of attendants were taken
care of, while I relaxed to the tune of their munching rhythm
of complete gustative satisfaction, which could be heard sev-
eral rooms away.
Soon after our repast word came that everything was ready
for my installation. There was need to hurryj our walk ap-
parently had exceeded the time allotted to it. The room, how-
ever, in which the formal ceremony was to take place, was
quite ncarj so in quick time we ducked through the narrow
hallways until we reached the appointed spot.
The vestments were brought, and no time was lost in being
folded into the flowing Lamaist robes of garnet homespun,
each robe having symbolic significance. Having "taken the
veil," so to speak, I directed my footsteps to the temple of my
monastic division, to worship there before appearing in the
private chamber of the T'ri Rimpoche.
The summons came. The T'ri Rimpoche's chamber was tiny
and simple* It contained only a small altar and a couple of
very plain Tibetan banners. One banner was that of the founder
of this religious sect, the other of the Lord Buddha. What
impressed me most was the profundity of happiness mani-
fested by the radiant face of Tibet's highest Lama. Not for
him the wealth and grandeur within his reach. Pilgrims from
every corner of Asia brought him gifts, and asked for his bless-
ing. All this wealth was promptly turned over to the monas-
teryj it was used to feed the inmate, the surplus was converted
Penthouse of the Gods
into sacred images. His entire empire is made up of his per-
sonal conquests of the soul, and he is ever willing to guide
others over the same arduous path. The Tibetans teach that
there m are no short cuts to heaven} they remind the pilgrim
and the disciple of the inevitable chain of continual deaths and
continual rebirths in the Wheel of Life.
A signal honor was paid me in that I was permitted to sit
on a seat placed next to the Pri Rimpoche. This gave me some
indication of how they felt toward me, and how far I had ad-
vanced in my innermost soul. Yet, as he explained later, I was
one of their famous saints who had been reborn in the West-
ern world, and that this was the reason that I had to come to
Tibet and had been able to pass through all Tibetan ritualistic
rites. It was merely a case of regaining lost memories, and
I should presently be able to recall my past existences. And,
actually, though at that moment I could not give an exact ac-
counting of material details of any existence beyond this one,
I did feel wholly at home in this land of mystery, and no ex-
perience I had undergone these past several months had re-
vealed to me anything which seemed absolutely new* The
mood was rather one of recalling things. The T J ri Rimpoche
also told me that it was because of the old soul contained in
this bodily form that it was possible for me to make this inner
contact so rapidly and so easily. Nevertheless, I was still try-
ing, as it were, to keep one foot on the ground j for my train-
ing had taught me that there were no mysteries, that every
phenomenon in this world of name and form could be ex-
plained} moreover, that if a single untenability in any system
could be found, then the whole system had to be discarded
and a new beginning made. Hence, it was essential fully to
comprehend the system, and in this instant it meant the com-
plete awakening of the subconscious*
We recited various prayers, and I took the vows, after which
[22]
Ecstasy
I was invited to ask the T'ri Rimpoche any questions I might
wish to have answered before he prepared my imagination to
face the coming ordeal of the cell of solitary confinement. Had
this opportunity been granted me before this day, I should
have availed myself of it with an endless stream of questions}
but coming as it did, after the initiation, I had nothing to ask,
but merely to implore that the great privilege of confinement
in a solitary cell be granted me promptly.
After a prolonged philosophical discussion I bade my holy
host good-bye, and followed my escort to the small rock sanc-
tuary which had been made ready' for me.
Even while I was to sit in my solitary cell meditating, my
guide and teacher was. also to shut himself away and spend his
time in silent meditation, maintaining some sort of psychic
communication with my inner self, even though I might be
unaware of it. This seems to be the way in which it is possible
for him to determine if I have been fully able to sound the
depths and still the mind, so that it might become receptive to
that power which is to pass on to me.
The view from the rock sanctuary is one of the most mag-
nificent in the world. A vast perspective spread out before me,
valleys of verdure against snow-clad peaks and tempestuous
clouds. My chief attendant was deeply moved with fear, we
were impelled to pause for a consoling talk before I crossed
the threshold of perpetual silence. These Tibetans had vivid
pictures in mind of the dangers faced by any one who accepted
this vow, and by now they had a strong attachment for me.
It was not that they lacked confidence, but they were reluctant
to give up the intimate association we had enjoyed, even though
it was among their duties to fetch me one meal a day and keep
watch, should anything happen.
[23]
Penthouse of the Gods
At the very moment I crossed the threshold a strange feel-
ing came over me. It was as if only then did I realize what it
meant from that instant not to see or speak to another living
soul, and I wondered whether by now I had a sufficiently rich
soul to sustain me. Could it stand the test? Would I emerge
victor? I promptly consoled myself with the knowledge that
I had been thoroughly prepared physically, mentally, and
consciously j so there need be no fear on my part. This was to
be an adventure in the subsconscious, and had I not spent years
in grasping the fundamental principles, and months in learn-
ing and developing the essential practices, which logically and
inevitably led to this, the final test?
I must go back a little. Just before I crossed the threshold
of the solitary cell, there had been a brief pause for silent
prayer, and the Lamas with me repeated certain chants which
were supposed to give me the needful strength to accomplish
the purpose of this experience. At the same* time the Lamas in
the main temple were finishing the repetition of the prayers
which they had begun at daybreak. The precise number of
repetitions was 108,000. Every soul in the monastery was with
me in thought at this moment, and I somehow sensed the
strength of their complete confidence. My last thought be-
fore entering was to try and retain a memory of myself as I
was, as I knew it would not be the same individual to emerge
from that cell.
Never shall I forget the joys of ecstasy which swept over
me like a stream of ripples as I bade every one good-bye and
stepped into the tomb of holiness. The sun had long left the
slope of the mountain. There was no light at all in the tiny
anteroom in which the attendants were to leave my food each
day. The door opening from this into my cave was far too
small to enable me to enter upright. Indeed, the cave itself
only permitted me to stand erect provided that I kept my legs
[24]
Ecstasy
apart. There was only a very narrow slit in the side of the rock
wall, which had been built up to form this cave; the light
which it allowed to enter was not enough to read byj not that
there was anything to read. The only reason for the opening
was to permit an infusion of fresh air, and not too much of that j
for, according to their standards, very little is needed, just
enough to keep the lungs filled for the sake of health.
The room was bare of everything but a th&ngka of the Lord
Buddha and the Wheel of Life, which I could use to help me
in my meditations on the cause and purpose of this endless
chain of existence. Facing the door was the small Tibetan sit-
ting box, in which I was to sit j for at no time was I to lie down
to sleep. It was quite legitimate to doze off whenever the mind
grew too weary, but the teachings forbade one to lie down to
sleep during such meditations.
For once in my life there was no rush. All I had to do was
to sit and think, and there was no one around who would feel
that I was wasting precious time. The fact is, here it was be-
lieved that 1 was making the best use of my time. No one could
interfere with me, no telephone could ring, no fire could dis-
tract my attention. As I reflected upon the discipline to which
I was subjecting myself I realized how numerous were our
distractions, not because they are necessary, but chiefly because
we have so little within us that we must see to it that they
exist, in order to keep us occupied. All the externals of life
were for once wholly banished but the inner life went on, the
mind was still active, the body continued to function-nso now
what to do? And noise itself ceased to exist There was noth-
ing left to do but to bring the mind under control, to delve
into self, and live there deep in the subconscious. I was, of
course, able to use physical and breathing practices devised to
[25]
Penthouse of the Gods
banish automatically the desires of the body and the uncon-
trolled wanderings of the mmd; at the same time these prac-
tices made it possible to use the mind to gain consciousness
over my inner self. It becomes a sort of receiving set of the
racial subconscious of man, as it flows through the subcon-
scious of the individual.
The discipline which I arranged allowed ample time for
reflection. I went back to my earliest conscious memory, and
reviewed every detail of my life up to the present moment,
By the mere evocation of these pictures, they tended to vanish,
enabling the mind to pass on to others, until the mind can rest
from satiation, even as it begins to receive the flow from
within. The principle is that if the mind is not under control
it must be active, and if it fails to receive food for thought
from without it will seek it within, the purpose of this experi-
ence being to remove all its external stimuli.
It was impossible to jump right into the middle of things.
I first had to let the impressions of the day fully settle before
considering anything new. I spent whole hours in doing abso-
lutely nothing but watching the mind wander as the thoughts
continued to pour into my consciousness. With no timepiece
at hand, I had yet to become subconsciously aware of the phases
of the day and night, in order to establish my discipline which
called for specific practices at the four quarters of the twenty-
four hours. I entertained no concern about making haste, since
I had all the time in the world in which to banish non-essen-
tials.
Most important of all was that I should become attuned to
the rhythm of nature, rather than strive to set up a rhythm
of my own. This attitude served to dispel all barriers, and in-
stantly I was overcome with the desire to get into action, which
is the law of life. Deliberately, at the beginning, I stayed far
within conservative bounds with my practices, adding a little
Ecstasy
to my discipline as I gained inner strength j for I did not want
to suffer defeat by making a false start, which is often the case.
Never once did I Jose sight of the instruction that there were
no short cuts to a goal, that it all must be done step by step.
It is not possible here to go into the nature of these prac-
tices, which had taken so much of my time under the super-
vision of native specialists j improper training can result in
injury.
The periods between my practices, which had to be done
at sunup and at sundown and at midnight and at noon, were
allotted to reflection. I went back to the earliest recollections
of childhood and reviewed every detail of that early memory
in the steady effort to find a stimulus which would permit me
to delve even deeper into the past. Once I had reviewed all
the facts, I tried to gain some insight into the meaning behind
the factsj this was to enable me to look into the workings of
the law of Karma, which was motivating this life.
[27]
CHAPTER II
THE QUEST
A T SAT in that solitary cell my mind travelled back to my
beginnings. What was happening to me in Tibet was,
after all, only my early childhood's dreams come into
their reality. I shall limit my narrative to the essential facts:
why and how I came to Tibet, what happened to me en route
to Lhasa, what happened in the sacred city itself, and what I
saw, felt, and experienced during the entire pilgrimage, which
was to culminate in the ecstasy of mystical initiation, already
recorded.
I was born of parents who had been following the teachings
of the East throughout their life. They had personal contact
with a great teacher in India, having studied under him. Thus,
the foundation was laid at the very beginning. But it was not
their design that I should follow the code of the wandering
ascetic. They felt that I was born in America and should be
trained to the code of American success. Hence, I was provided
with the usual background of education and religious instruc-
tion, such as are given to what I suppose may be called the
typical American boy. It must be admitted, however, that these
were in some measure tainted by being interpreted in the light
of Eastern philosophical teachings.
In any event, my education was directed to making a lawyer
of me. A few years after finishing law school I arrived at the
decision that the legal profession was not for me. The reading*
I had done in my spare time during those early years had
[28]
The Quest
turned my mind in another direction. I could not see any pur-
pose in material success, and there was a growing yearning in
me for inner development. I was sure that my greatest happi-
ness was to be found in striving toward that goal. By now I had
a surfeit of literature to be found in our libraries dealing with
Buddhist teachings. No author but gave them the highest praise
and contrasted them with those of the Western world to the
disadvantage of the latter. Then and there I resolved to dedi-
cate my life to a personal quest, I would test the claims made
for these teachings by putting myself through the required
training. This meant that I must obtain a full grounding of
Western teachings, and follow it with a similar grounding of
. Eastern teachings as revealed in the best available books on the
subject After that I would try the practices. The first half of
the program was simple enough. I merely returned to school,
proceeding to obtain a Ph.D, on the subject from Columbia
University. The second half, however, demanded that I go to
the Orient and seek out a teacher capable of guiding me. In
my case our family connections stood me in good stead.
On my arrival in India I sent word to the home of the fam-
ily guru (spiritual teacher), but received a message that he
had passed away. This was a profound disappointment, for I
had many years looked forward to meeting him again and had
hoped to have the privilege of becoming his disciple. I had
other contacts, however, but before proceeding with my train-
ing under some one else I toured the length and breadth of
India, from Bengal to Bombay, and from Kashmir to Ceylon,
stopping off to visit all of the important temples and shrines
and out-of-the-way holy spots, and interviewing every holy
man and Yogi who happened my wayj thus I went on inces-
santly adding to my increasing store of information on their
practices.
Eventually the moment had come for taking up the prac-
[39]
Penthouse of the Gods
tices, which required the close guidance of a teacher. So I went
to the jungle retreat of a disciple of the family guru. He was
about to have his seventy-first birthday, yet was far more vital
than Ij he never slept more than two hours a day and appeared
to be in the finest physical condition. He had an exceptionally
keen and active mind. He gave me tasks, demanding that I dig
up everything for myself. Philosophical teachings were given
me at times j they were never forthcoming until I asked the
questions, and then only if the questions were correctly framed.
A new practice came only after I had perfected the previous
one. My mentor always stressed the fundamental purpose or
essence of life; the illusions or transitory phenomena of this
material existence did not interest him.
As soon as I was initiated as a tcwtrik* I was instructed to
go to a point on the border of Tibet, where a certain personage
would give further introductions. I was aflame with excitement.
Here seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime. Yet never did
I dream that I would be sitting in a sacred Himalayan cave,
reviewing an incredible spiritual adventure.
When I left for the border of Tibet I had only the rudiments
of my new education. I knew the practices, of course. But I had
also spent no little time in the study of Buddhist psychology
and mental attitudes. This involved such details as how Jong
was a thought, how many repetitions were necessary to have a
thought made a memory impression, how many of these were
needed to store it in the subconscious, and the proper hours of
*Tanttik~<yf\t grounded in doctrine. The Tawfras were the encyclopedias
of the knowledge of their time, for they dealt with nearly every subject,
from the doctrine of the origin of the world to the laws which govern so-
cieties, and have always been considered as the repositoiy of CHOteric belief*
and practices, particularly those of the Spiritual Science, Yoga, the key to
which has always been with the initiate and only passed on by word of mouth,
Gencrically speaking, it is the term for the writings of various tradition* which
express the whole culture of a certain epoch in the ancient history of India*
[30]
The Quest >'
the day to make them take effect. I was also taught the diet
which should be followed during such training, and the pre-
cise practices essential to the achievement of desired results.
All Yoga training demands the maintenance of a high heat
within the body. I was directed to a hermit who lived among
the Himalayan snows in northern Sikkim, bordering on Tibet.
He was reputed to possess the knowledge of the art of Tummo
of raising the body heat. This permitted these people to live in
such high altitudes without fire or clothes.
I arrived at Gangtok, the capital of the Sikkim, at the begin-
ning of winter.
Sikkim reminded me of the lovely valleys of Kashmir. When
it is better known, the world will come to this beautiful valley
5,000 feet above the sea. The melting snowstseem to leap
from the sky, forming a mist that bathes the dense jungles be-
low as it rushes on to the torrents. It is a land of contrasts. A
verdant jungle is hemmed in by perpetual snows. Nowhere
else on earth can one sit under an orange tree, eating bananas,
and feast one's eyes on orchids beneath a peak 29,000 feet high.
But that is Sikkim.
I recall having a most enjoyable Christmas dinner at the
home of Mr, and Mrs. C E. Dudley. Mr. Dudley was head-
master of the school* With his friendly assistance, as well as
that of Birmiok and Renock Kazi the secretary and the treas-
urer, respectively, of the Maharajah of Sikkim, then on his
deathbed I was enabled to make hurried arrangements for
the hundred-mile trek to the abode of the mystic hermit. My
initiation as a tmtrik acted as an, of en sesame*, he undertook to
pass his secret art on to me. It was my plan to settle in a small
Tibetan border town on the historical Pekin-to-India trade
route and take up the study of Tibetan literature. He gave me a
[31]
Penthouse of the Gods
long list of rare manuscripts which contained the teachings I
was seeking. So now I was faced with two problems: that of
learning the language, and of obtaining the manuscripts. I was
ambitious to conquer both.
At Kalimpong I secured the services of Tharchin, a Tibetan
who had been raised on the border and was well qualified to
act as my mentor j he was to remain with me throughout my
entire pilgrimage. I was extremely fortunate in my choice.
It was my ambition to translate the Life of Padma Samb-
hava, the founder of Lamaism in Tibet, reputed to have been
the greatest tantnk of India during his time, as well as the
Lives of the Saints of the Kargyupa sect, which still adhered to
his teachings. At this time I was making many valuable contacts.
David Macdonald, who is so very well known and loved by
all the Tibetans because of his intimate friendship with the late
Dalai and Tashi Lamas, was always most gracious in introduc-
ing me to his many friends, who visited him on their pilgrim-
ages to the birthplace of Lord Buddha in India. I could not
have been in a more ideal place, as Tharchin, likewise, had a
host of friends in Lhasa and a wide acquaintance among the
Lamas from the large monasteries.
After a rather strenuous period of discipline, I felt the need
of a change, especially when the monsoon came. If the British
would give me permission, I decided to go to Gyantsc, 250
miles into Tibet. This would enable me to gain a first-hand ex-
perience of their culture and be the very best way for me to
develop the colloquial language. I had heard that the British
did not particularly like to have visitors go up and down the
Trade route, but they sometimes made an exception. There
was nothing to be done until Mr, J. B. Gould, the Political
Officer at Sifckim, returned from Lhasa. It was a great event in
my life when I finally had a talk with him at the home of Mr.
and Mrs. A. N. Odling in Kalimpong and he said that he would
The Quest
wire a recommendation to the Government of India. All such
permissions must come from this authority, but only with the
consent of the Political Officer in charge.
Immediately preparations were started for what I felt was
to be the greatest experience of my life. Had it not been for the
enthusiastic assistance of Mr. Frank Perry, who had spent
several years as an officer at Gyantse, it would have never
been possible for me to get my outfit in time to arrive in
Gyantse on Dawa Shi nyma cku> nag^ or the I5th day of the
fourth month according to the Tibetan calendar briefly known
as Sa~kar-dwoa. This is the Tibetan equivalent for our Easter.
He promptly got the weavers started on my Tibetan blanket,
and the native carpenters planing down the boards from the
logs brought direct from the jungle in order to make my
transport boxes. Thus, by working day and night, the workers
had everything ready for me within a few days.
The day of days had arrived. The mules were there at eight
in order to start with my pack outfit for Gangtok, where I was
to join them for the long trail over the hill, which happens to be
a small knoll of snow and ice resting among storm clouds about
15,000 feet above sea-level. The ttnwalla (tin-smith) had ar-
rived at six in order to finish labelling a couple of extra boxes
that had to be secured at the last moment to take the miscel-
laneous odds and ends that seemed to be continually cropping
up. By now I had decided to take a large portion of my library,
so that I might set up my study in any place in which I hap-
pened to be lingering for an extra day or so. I had little incli-*
nation to waste any time during my tret through Tibet} along
with my personal experience, I was writing my Columbia Ph JD.
dissertation on tantrik Yoga. After seeing, the mules were on
their way, I took off in a small Austin for Gangtok.
[33]
Penthouse of the Gods
Several hours were wasted in the Tista valley as we tried
to win a losing race with a leaking tire. Every few miles we
had to stop and pump it up again, until finally we were forced
to stop and repair it in typical Indian fashion, which is identical
with no attempt at repair. Toward the end of the trip the
driver certainly tried to make up for lost time, almost skipping
a few of the intricate curves by which the road followed the
Tista.
It was late in the afternoon, after a hot, dry, and dusty ride,
that I arrived at the Residency in Gangtofc. Here the spring
was just bursting into bloom, throwing splashes of gorgeous
color over the entire hillside.
In India I had spent considerable time in the jungles with
my guru, and for some months before I left for Tibet I had
been closely following the instructions of the hermit among
the Himalayan snows. During this period I had to be content
with a single small meal a day and only a few hours* sleep. At
the same time I was forced to maintain a vigorous mental dis-
cipline, directed for the most part to the study of the Tibetan
tongue. In consequence, I had lost something like thirty-five
pounds, which meant that I was far from being a Bernarr Mac-
fadden star, and, really, it would have been comforting to be
one, as I thought of negotiating that little knoll behind Gang-
tok rising some 15,000 feet and leading into Tibet. Yet I knew
that the body was strong enough to endure anything that should
come, provided I could adjust the stomach to accepting suffi-
cient food, for it had shrunk considerably and was averse to
rough foods j my diet, indeed, had been reduced to liquids. I
had only a little over a week for reconditioning j this meant I
had to be rather careful for a while, and this was very difficult
when being entertained so royally at the Residency.
On the day the transport was due to arrive I strolled down
to the bungalow shortly after tea to see that everything was in
[34]
The Quest
order for our departure on the following morning. The ani-
mals were feeding, the men were busy around the kitchen. But
there was no sign of Tharchin, who was supposed to have driven
up from Kalimpong. I learned by telegraph that the Governor
of Bengal, John Anderson, had come to Kalimpong for the day.
This meant that all roads were cleared until he had passed,
which made it impossible for Tharchin to leave before evening.
There was a typical Sikkim downpour, which meant heavy snow
on the pass. Unless one has experienced jungle rains of the
monsoon it is almost impossible to imagine the amount of water
which can come down from a clear sky within a couple of hours.
Dinner that night was a very festive occasion and as chic as
if it had been served at the Ritz. It made me acutely aware that
it was my parting meal with Western.civilization. Once I en-
tered Tibet there would be a radical change in my diet. Mr.
Gould and a friend and I all dressed in evening clothes. I must
admit it was a treat to eat again from a table covered with fine
linen and set with silver that glistened in the candlelight. It.
was a meal of delicious food and many jests. In the drawing
room over our coffee we started a learned discussion on the
value of the classics. About all I could do was to indicate how
much Greek and Latin I had forgotten} however, it eventually
led the conversation around to the beginnings of Buddhism and
to the Eastern philosophy in general. Apparently my host was
only familiar with the popular conception of the tcmtras which
meant that he, like many others, considered them to be the un-
dermining influence in all Buddhism. It had been this attitude
which I constantly encountered in literature that had fired my
imagination to the point where I decided to make a personal
investigation of their teachings and practices and see for myself
if they were degenerate.
We finally broke up the discussion about eleven and I re-
tired to my room to complete my packing. I had left orders
[35]
Penthouse of the Gods
for the men to be there at five sharp. At four-thirty I hopped
out of bed with an upset stomach. I had ordered an early
breakfast and didn't want to disappoint them by not eating, so
I stuffed it in, but not for long. There was no alternative but to
go on a complete fast which is hardly the thing when one takes
off to cross the Himalayan ridges.
About nine o'clock we were ready to set out for Changu,
twenty-three miles up the hill. Another party had already
made reservations for the bungalow at Karponang, which is
situated about half-wayj consequently we had to do a double
stage. These bungalows were first established when the Young-
husband Expedition of 1904 forged its way into Tibet with a
large army under the command of General Sir Ronald Mac-
donald. They have been constantly improved, and today the
British maintain an? excellent chain of rock-constructed bunga-
lows.
As soon as the transport of fifteen mules laden with packs
had left, Tharchin and I rode to the Residency to bid farewell,
though it was already nine o'clock and we were behind the
schedule. Henceforth, Tharchin was to be my almost insepar-
able companion. He was a smallish man, with a figure inclined
to plumpness. He had a little fat face with a tiny moustache,
and he was dressed in plus-fours and a rather loud English
tweed coat. He usually held his cigarette within the palm of
a dosed fist, and it scarcely touched his lips. What is more im-
portant is that, a Tibetan who had been raised on the border, he
had a full knowledge of the literature of his country and he
had been in Lhasa many times, and had devoted many years to
study. He was exceptionally competent.
For the first several miles we wound our way round the
mountain-side, rising up from the jungles of Sikkim and re-
[36]
The Quest
vealing a magnificent view of the pass that we were to cross the
following day. We were about 8000 feet above sea-level, and
there it was looming about another 7000 feet above us, seeming
treacherously near. In the morning it seemed as if we should
reach the top within a few hours, but by night we began to
wonder if we had moved at all. The weather was threatening,
a downpour seemed imminent. At first I thought it might be
wise to spare the horses, and I contemplated walking in the
steeper places of this craggy stairway. But as I attained a couple
of thousand feet closer to heaven I gave up the idea, be-
cause my legs began to vibrate like bow strings at every step
forward.
We reached Karponaj&g about one-thirty. I immediately col-
lapsed, but left imperative orders to be awakened within an
hour. At the moment I felt that I should die right then and
there, but regained consciousness when called. In the midst of a
heavy hail and rain storm, wrapped in an Abercrombie & Fitch
watch-pocket raincoat, I took off for Changu, another twelve
miles up the stairway of patience moulded by nature. We were
at this time at the bottom of the snow line, an indication that
with each ascending mile it would be colder and colder j more-
over, we were heading into the tempest above us. Immense
clouds were already speeding past us, and at an elevation of 13,-
000 feet they formed a white billowy stormy lake. As the trans-
port had already left before we arrived, there was no alternative
but to push on.
My only salvation was to go to sleep on the pony and pray
that I did not lose my balance in going over one of those man-
made ledges built on the sheer face of a cliff overhanging space.
1 must confess that it was something of a joy when I would open
my eyes and see ridges and canyons generously ablaze with tow-
ering rhododenron trees, from fifty to seventy feet high, bloom-
ing amidst the snow. Elsewhere, lost among the foliage, tiny
[37]
Penthouse of the Gods
shoots of flowers might be seen forcing their way through the
snow, only; the pink and red blooms being visible above the sub-
merged stems. The trail wound its way for miles along such
ridges, over streams and beneath roaring waterfalls, whose spray
was worse than the rain storm itself. The rain poured steadily
for three hours 5 a fish would have been in its element here- It
was, indeed, something more than rain alone; for we were actu-
ally in the heart of vast rain clouds, which sooner or later would
break and pour their copious contents on the country below.
There was a likelihood of snow on the morrow, when we were
to cross the Nathu Pass at an elevation of a little over a thou-
sand feet above us.
Tharchm and I stumbled along over the boulders which lie
scattered over the trail, to protect it from being washed away.
Now and then we would come upon a rude boulevard, much like
the Roman roads, except that it is less than half the width. It
did ease our travelling no little, as it was usually possible here
to judge my position when the pony took the next stepj this
meant much to me who was having, more or less, to keep my
eyes closed because of the corrupted condition of my innards.
My constant thought was, how would I ever live to make the
next step; but it somehow happened, with me none the worse
for it. As we were mounting over the highest ridge of the day,
all I could do to greet the most beautiful lake among the clouds
that I had ever seen was vomiting all that I had eaten about
twenty-four hours previously. It was something of a compensa-
tion that at this point we could see our destination at the other
end of the heart-shaped lake, gleaming like a gun-metalled
crystal, and reflecting tenfold the beauty of the cloud-clad
mountain that hemmed us in. It was fabulous grandeur.
At last, the bungalow. More quickly than my feet hit the
ground my head hit the bed which had been prepared with
solicitude by the boys who had gone ahead with the transport*
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The Quest
and there I remained until six the next morning, when I awoke,
feeling perfect but for a slight weakness due to the thirty-six-
hour fast which I had just completed. The comfortable circum-
stances of my slumber were in no small measure due to Thar-
chin and the two "boys" who, apart from looking after my pack
mules, acted as my servants. They were strong, good-natured
fellows, patient and loyal as they make them. The older of the
pair, Norphel, was thirty-two years old and was attired in na-
tive clothes and earrings. The younger, Lhare, was about twen-
ty-three} he had had wider experience, and was dressed as a
European. Their solicitude was, indeed, touching. Yet notwith-
standing a Puk-sha (a fur-lined Tibetan robe), and a doubled
Ch&-tuk (a heavy Tibetan woven blanket), I felt as cold as
though it was ten below zero. In the end the chills left me, and
I relaxed for the night, to meet the new day with a better spirit
A heavy snow had fallen in the night} so I clad myself warm.
I could not risk a chill in my weakened condition. I put on "Gil-
git-boots" (heavy knee boots of thick felt), and an extra heavy
Tibetan P&k-sha> which goes round one a couple of times; its
front pocket is capable of holding an unlimited quantity of use-
ful things. The weather, however, soon moderated, and it was
now a question of how to keep cool. All the morning, while we
were packing, the clouds were racing up the gorge as if they
were trying to reach some Fair in Heaven.
It is only ten miles to Chumbi Tang, the next bungalow, a
couple of miles on the other side of the Nathu Pass, but under
prevailing weather conditions it meant an all-day trip. Often
the traders make less than a mile an hour in negotiating this
pass* We did a trifle better, for we were on the trail only nine
hours, though we must have been some fifty pounds heavier,
soaked as we were to the skin as we waded through the mud
and the slush of melting snow under a downpour of rain and
sleet Much time, too, was lost in picking up fallen mules and
[39]
Penthouse of the Gods
horses. There was no crust on the snow, and every time that a
foot slipped off the narrow trail there was no stopping one from
sinking until belly-deep.
My companions gave expression to glee upon reaching the
summit, for it meant they were now in their native hnd, Tibet,
They added some stones to the accumulating stone-mound, in
accordance with the traveller's custom a better custom, it seems
to me, than our own, that of carving our initials and gave vent
to what would be analogous to our three cheers. On this stone
pile countless "prayer-flags" are to be seen, an offering to the
spirit of the mountain. If a Tibetan wants to offer a certain
prayer, he may take several of these tiny flags and inscribe on
them the desired prayer j these he erects then on the mound in
the pass, and every time they wave in the wind his prayer is
automatically repeated for him, conferring favor upon him with
the Gods. The summit, by the way, is not a plateau, but a real
summit, limited in space, and only permitting to walk along the
narrow ridge round the stone pile.
From this point the journey was considerably simplified, for
the trail wound its way around the side of the mountain almost
on a level hundreds of feet above the rushing streams, of which
we could catch passing glimpses through the moss-clad firs and
rhododenrons- There was one alarming moment when I was
negotiating one of the plank bridges that crossed the many lit-
tle streams. These bridges are made of only large logs flattened
on one side and thrown across the gap. About half a dozen Jogs
are used, and where the crevices between the logs happen to be
too large they are filled in with loose rocks, which roll about in
perfect unison with the logs. At one point my pony lost the
rhythm, swaying now to the right now to the left, leaving me to
figure out which would be his choice, so that I might fall in the
direction which left me more leeway for safety* I did not relish
the idea of falling twenty feet or so into a torrent of molten ice.
[40]
The Quest
As it was, I did not feel any too well. Luckily for me, the syce
happened to be near, and he grasped at the horse's head just in
time to enable him to regain his footing and save me a spill. It
was a very uncomfortable moment.
Presently, we settled for the night at Chumbi Tang. The
boys brought me a nice bowl of Van Camp's tomato soup, diluted
with an equal quantity of yak's milk, to which I was slowly be-
coming accustomed.
The next morning I was up at three o'clock. I found the boys
had already fed the animals and packed. We were soon on our
way to the Kargyupa Monastery, which is at the end of the
Chumbi valley. This is the abode of the Red sects of the Tibet-
ans who follow the living teachings of the tantras. I was espe-
cially eager to make this step, as the head Lama was reputed to
be well schooled in these teachings and possessed of great power.
The sun was not yet up, so we had a lantern to guide us. The
trail was a very steep and narrow ridge, with chiselled pockets
in the rock made by the animals' hooves. Parts of it were so
treacherous as to force one to dismount and walk. The monas-
tery perched on a rocky promontory became visible. My excite-
ment increased. Yet I was becoming exhausted, and by the time
we reached the monastery I hadn't a desire for anything but
water. My tongue felt thick, my mouth seemed to be filled with
cotton.
Tharchin having sent on word of our visit ahead, we were
met by a friendly party of monks in reddish-brown robes and
with shaven heads. One of them promptly began to show us
around. The entrance to the courtyard was lined with prayer-
wheels. Around the inside ran a porch, the walls of which were
decorated with the important deities in the customary colorful
manner. We were directly led into the monastery proper. The
Penthouse of the Gods
nave was nothing but a huge barren barn with a few thmgkas
hung about the walls* At the other end the boys opened a door
into another room, situated where the altar should have been.
Within were their deities.
Still I had had no water, and I was rapidly becoming sick.
They had already heard of my work and of my interest in
their teachings, so there was nothing I could do but offer a scarf
to the Lord Buddha, as is the custom of the country when visit-
ing holy shrines. It was really the last thing I wanted to do at
the moment. I knew I should be feeling no better afterwards,
and probably much worse. But when in Tibet one must do as
the Tibetans do. I tried to collect myself and made the offering
by trying to throw the scarf into the hands of the enormous
image.
Next came a tour of inspection. I tried to hurry it, as I didn't
know if I could last out. When it was over, I rushed for a door,
but was called back to see yet another Buddha. By then I could
scarcely stand, but it was worth the effort. They had a Buddha
about forty feet high with his disciples, all hand-carved and
beautifully painted. I again rushed to the door only to find it
led to one of the hidden antechambers in the upper stories of
the monastery, where the head Lama awaited us. After winding
our way up the shaky staircase and through narrow hallways
we reached an extraordinary little shrine with Guru Rimpochc
as the chief deity. He is also known by the Sanskrit name of
Padma Sambhava and is believed to be the founder of Lamaiam
in Tibet, as well as the greatest tantnk in India in his time. His
life and teaching were naturally of the greatest importance to
me. But I was forced to make straight for a chair, which had
been drawn up to the table for tea. Monks were coming in from
all directions, and I became confused and ill. The head Lama
came in adorned with a crackling robe of gold. His face glowed
from ear to ear with a toothless smile. Somehow or other I sum-
[40
The Quest
moned enough strength to go through with the ceremony of ex-
changing sacred scarves, which is a token of friendship and good-
will, a sort of Tibetan calling-card.
Once this was over, I could hold out no longer. I begged for
a place to rest. Immediately there was a helter-skelter, a scurry-
ing of willing feet, and, as if by magic, beautiful embroidered
cushions appeared, with a leopard skin to cover them. But I had
held out as long as I could. I now implored them to take me
rapidly to some other place, lest I defile this inner sanctuary of
the esoteric Tibetan faith. The boys started to run, and so did
I. Unexpectedly I found a pan being held under my chin. It
was just what was needed. After that I returned to the cushions
and slept three hours, awaking much refreshed.
Tharchin and the head Lama were still in the room talking.
I propped up my head by rolling the blanket into a pillow and
joined in a most interesting and illuminating discussion which
occupied the rest of the day. We talked of Tibetan literature,
and when I asked where I could find teachers to prepare me
for initiation and similar questions to which I desired answers
on guidance, it was always the same response:
"Whenever you are ready for it, the answer will always come
to you."
From the head Lama I got a much clearer impression of the
tantrik works written by Padma Sainbhava and of the teachings
which came down from Tilopa, through Naropa, Marpa, Mila
and Tarpa. In the biography of Guru Rimpoche, which I had
just finished translating, I had learned of a set of eighteen vol-
umes which were supposed to contain his complete works. One
of the purposes of my journey into Tibet was to obtain this set
of books* We discussed among other things the scope of the
tantras that are found in the Kangyur and Tengyur in contrast
with the twntras that make up the scriptures of this sect.
Before taking our departure, our friend, who wore a coil of
[43]
Penthouse of the Gods
hair some twenty feet long on his head as a symbol of his rank
and power, took us for another short tour of inspection. Above
all I enjoyed our visit to the inner shrines which exhibited dei-
ties in various sexual embraces, portraying the several aspects
of the tantrik teachings in the universal phases rather than the
fleeting and transitory which we are able to embrace in this
bodily consciousness. When we brought our visit to a close,
plans were made for a prolonged stay on my return.
'6
When I reached Yatung I was ready to call a halt and stay
over a day to let nature catch up with our pace. This ended my
upset state, and afterwards I never had even as much as a head-
ache. Indeed, I never felt better in my entire life from that day
until I reached New York City.
While I lay around in the bungalow resting, Tharchin made
calls on his many Tibetan friends in the village. They no sooner
heard that he had arrived than a steady human stream was com-
ing and going, which meant that an endless quantity of tea was
consumed. In Tibet all time is Tea Time. It matters little what
time of day or night you visit a Tibetan, there will be tea served
immediately upon your arrival. One of Tharchin's friends came
to see me, and we had a long talk about the products and activi-
ties of the Chumbi valley, which captivated me. This valley is
nearly 10,000 feet above sea level and, with its profusion of
pines, dark firs, apple, peach and apricot orchards in bloom, it
is as beautiful as any of the famous spots in Switzerland.
Yak seems to be the favorite meat; it is eaten raw in a dried
form. Mutton is subjected to the same treatment. The Tibetan
has little inclination toward chicken, for so many have to be
killed and it is his religious belief that it is wrong to kill, A little
killing has to be done to survive. Hence, it is thought better to
[44]
The Quest
choose the life of an animal whose flesh will feed many persons.
Potatoes, as well as other vegetables, grow in great abundance.
Wild mountain sheep are still plentiful Fine agricultural coun-
try, its air is pure and bracing; it is likely that some day it will
be opened up and exploited as a health resort. It really re-
minded me of those beautiful hidden valleys of our great Rocky
Mountains, where everything grows in abundance and wild life
is everywhere. Today, there is no entrance except over the
Nathu Pass (14,394 feet), but it is not at all impossible to con-
struct as scenic a boulevard as there is in the world following the
Amo River out into India. For sport, there is fishing in great
quantities at the head of the valley near what is known as the
Lingmo Plain.
We had to obtain fresh animals at Yatung, so an early start
was doubtful j the natives here never show up within two hours
of the time they are told to be ready. The delay, however, en-
abled me to take a couple of snaps of the tiny village on the
banks of the foaming Amo, "milk river." There seems to be a
practice here to hold down the roofs with rocks, to protect them
against the heavy wind storms that visit the country. Another
safety measure is to build a roof several feet above the house
itself, thereby allowing ample space for the wind to have its way
without doing damage to the house or the roof.
The first six or seven miles in the narrow valley followed the
rapids up to the Lingmo Plain, a gentle grass-covered plateau
hemmed in by crumbling barriers of rock. Throughout the
morning we passed long pack-trains of wool coming from
Central Tibet. This slowed down our progress, as difficulties
often arose in efforts to pass one another on the narrow trails,
when the animals on either side could not decide whether they
should keep to the middle path or scramble up the steep
mountainside.
From the next village we could see the Tung Kara (White
[45]
Penthouse of the Gods
Concha) monastery perched on the top of the distant ridge j
several thousand feet above it, along the ridge of the other side
of the valley, could be seen another gompa (monastery), which
had been used as a meditation retreat for the Geshe Rimpoche,
who was in charge of the Tung Kara Gompa. Our trail was now
beginning to rise from the valley and wind its way up the moun-
tainside, gaining elevation rapidly from the Lingmo Plain,
which was two or three miles away} for we were now at the
upper end of the Chumbi valley, which was one vast garden of
rhododendrons. Just before reaching the plain we climbed up
alongside of the waterfall, into the valley bordered on each
side with high swaying pines over the rhododendrons.
The contrast betwen the ruggedness of the narrow valley and
the pastoral peace of the plain was very impressive. As far as
we could see there was this flat grass-covered tableland sur-
rounded by almost perpendicular walls of fallen rock for thou-
sands of feet, far into the snow-line among the clouds. How
could such a paradise have come about? I was told that at the
end of summer the grass is several feet high and reminiscent of
a quiet lake when the wind blows. The entire area was dotted
over with small nomad tents and yaks grazing. Our trail wound
its way along the edge to the opposite end. At this point, how-
ever, we left our transport and clambered up the mountain-
side to visit the monastery which had been our guiding-star for
the past several hours*
It was almost a perpendicular ascent, but the grandeur was
well worth the effort The head Lama had died last winter; so
there was a little difficulty at first. Once our purpose was ascer-
tained, we were given entry to all the shrines. On our arrival
in the courtyard we were immediately escorted among growling
unchained mastiffs to a place before the entrance to the temple,
where we seated ourselves to enjoy the inevitable tea. Abundant
victuals came with the tea, and they looked appetizing to my
[46]
The Quest
half-starved eyes. They consisted of Tibetan bread piled up a
foot and a half high, enough for two persons. This bread is a
thin flat pastry-like substance rolled up on a side to form a
trough to be filled with knick-knacks of cookies and dried fruit.
My eyes strayed from the repast before me to the greasiest look-
ing cancerous specimen of syphilitic humanity that I have ever
seen. I was hungry and thirsty, so why not make the best of it?
I reckoned, however, without my host, for after several efforts
to break off a piece of bread I was forced to desist might as well
try to break concrete. At my other elbow was another chap with
his teapot urging me to drink. I never thought at the time that
I should live to tell the story, but it is such minor trifles, I sup-
pose, that toughen up the system.
After some nourishment I was rescued by a monk, who con-
ducted us into the temple, the floor of which was so highly
polished that I hesitated to step on it lest I soil it. How these
human animals can preserve such beauty as met my eyes is some-
times beyond me, for the interior was by far the finest aesthetic
expression of Tibetan Buddhism that I had yet seen. The entire
grandeur of this gompt is attributed to the effort of the late
Geshe Rimpoche, for whose body they were at this time erect-
ing a chorten (shrine) on the monastery grounds. This monas-
tic gem, hidden away on the top of a Himalayan rockpile, is
one of the sanctuaries of the Gelupa sect (yellow hats), which
is the ruling sect of the country today. The chief deity here is
the Coming Buddha, a carved figure of recent date, whose
crown is adorned with studded rubies and turquoises. Its fresh-
ness is perhaps one of the reasons of its impressivenessj for after
hundreds of butter lamps have been burning for years, its color
will no longer be visible through that veil of grease which time
will slowly cast over it* The artist who was doing the wall deco-
rations followed us about, filled up with pride over our fervent
reactions. In, the ante-chamber were the usual guardians of the
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Penthouse of the Gods
four directions, and the Wheel of Life, which was being com-
pleted. On one of the wings was a large Wheel of Poetry, which
is so written as to say the same things no matter which way it is
read. It was done in the royal Buddhist colors, which arc pure
in contrast to the delicate shades and nuances used by peoples in
other parts of the world.
From the main temple we went to the upper shrine, according
to the custom. This was one of the shrines of the Thousand
Buddhas, revealing costly splendor in the form of exquisite dec-
orations by expert artists, past masters in the formulas of re-
ligious murals. There is a set for every design which a master
craftsman comes to learn, and from which he never deviates.
All the accomplished Tibetan artist needs to know are the for-
mulse and the technique, which comes from years of practice.
What we call a creative artist is practically non-existent, though
they have some highly trained individuals who have special-
ized in the execution, of their formal art.
Next we were permitted to visit the private shrine of the
late Geshe Rimpoche. It was only a small shrine with various
private deities from which he obtained his spiritual strength.
It was our good fortune to arrive at the monastery when their
oracle was about to go into one of his trances. We witnessed the
entire perf qrmance from the time he entered the separate shrine,
where the spirit is supposed to dwell, amid the chants and clash-
ing of cymbals which are said to prepare him for his trance. The
spirit in him then started talking at a frantic speed and writers
tried to take down every word as he floated about the room.
When he collapsed from exhaustion several of the attendants
caught him in their arms, lowering him to the throne without
bodily injury.
Before leaving we made the usual devotional tour of the
monastery. From the cliff we could see the devotees carrying
heavy loads of rocks from the quarry below to the chorten, their
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burdens lightened by their great faith. After a cheerful salaam
to the workers we returned to the Lingmo Plain and continued
toward Gautsa.
That night we were lulled to sleep to the rhythm of torrents
of rain. The morning, however, was crystal-clear, with a fresh
layer of snow on all the ridges of the side-walls of barren rock
which towered on every side of our bungalow. The trail that
morning was treacherous. For the first eight miles it was strewn
with boulders, and the mules had to slip between them to get
their footing. Once we reached the Tibetan Plain at 14,000 feet,
everywhere were rolling hills covered with a brownish gray
carpet hemmed in by distant snow-covered peaks } the highest,
Chumolhari ("The Mountain of the Goddess Lady")> stood
out like a star sapphire on the hand of a Hindu Goddess. The
sky was much like our Western ones, with everything crystal-
clear. The hillsides were dotted, here and there, with roving
herds of yaks. These plains remain ever fresh, and all along the
way we could see typhoons in the distance, being carried away
into the heavens, where they were lost among the gathering
dark clouds. The dust, the soil, the clarity of the atmosphere,
the mellow brown hills, the very colors of the landscape, were
like our West with its power to awaken human awe.
7
As soon as we had settled for the day at the Phari bungalow,
Tharchin made arrangements for a couple of calls that I had to
make in order ,to pay my respects to the two officials here, the
Tibetan Trade Agent and the Jongfen (Commander of the
Fort). I was eager to stroll through the village, which is re-
puted to be the filthiest place on earth. I had seen places, both
in Mexico and China, which I thought must hold the -record,
but had it not been for the high, dry, cold air, Phari would have
held first place. The people were by far the dirtiest, greasiest
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Penthouse of the Gods
specimens that I have ever seen. They were all draped in rags,
worn threadbare with dirt and grease accumulated by their
grandparents.
The village itself is nothing but a huge Jong (Fort), which
looks like some mediaeval castle of Europe. It is on high ground
and with its turrets must rise some 150 feet from the plain. The
stone walls are enormously thick and slant slightly inwards.
There are few windows, but many slit-like openings. The whole
impression is one of impregnability. The Jong is surrounded by
narrow lanes of plastered dung, along which the villager lives
in contentment. It is more or less a last stronghold between the
Chumbi valley and the Tibetan Plain, and as such is a centre
for the crossroads of all the trails leading to India. It was from
India, by the pass from Bhutan, that nearly two centuries ago,
Bogle, Turner and Manning came to Phari.
The only way to convey the impressivcness of Chumolhari is
by comparison with our West. Imagine, then, Mt. Rainier rising
24,000 feet out of Arizona's desert, and you get the feeling one
has sitting on Chumolhari's lap at Phari, which seems about five
miles from the base, from which it shoots up like a rocket. Be-
fore retiring I went out to have a peek at the sky* I was over-
come with its brilliance, one could count the stars, and their
light cast a luminosity upon the earth.
It is little wonder that the Tibetan never leaves his country,
but that he aches inwardly for his return, and is not happy until
he does. There is a spiritual stimulus in these rarefied atmos-
pheres that awakens the dormant self. The mind of the nomad
is far too undeveloped to rationalize the processes which go on
within, in that part of us we call the soul, but he traverses his
three score and ten with that inner awareness that he is right
with his God. It is only when man is robbed of his consciousness
by the intricacies of materialistic society that he tries to compen-
sate for the deficiency by the embankment of material complex!-
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ties, rarely realizing what it is that is driving him, and what he
should be seeking.
We finally broke the day's march at a four-walled dung en-
closure. It was a midway station provided by the Government.
We went in to get some water so that we might have a cup of
"George Washington coffee" and thereby relieve the strain of
the piercing wind that had just worked its way to the marrow.
For the first five minutes it was impossible to see anything, be-
cause everything was black with the soot of yak dung, this being
the only fuel obtainable for the first hundred miles north of
Phari. Soon the eyes accommodated themselves to the gloom.
What a place we had chosen for tiffin (lunch) ! It was a room
whose ceiling consisted of carcasses of dried animals, the only
food they had. While we occupied this shelter a heavy snow-
storm had worked its way over us. With a ten-mile trek ahead
of us, we took our departure in a blinding gale of snow. We
could not see a single peak in any direction, though the Chumol-
hari range was only a few miles to our right. It was an exhilarat-
ing experience, if a chilling one, to make our way through the
storm. We covered the ten miles in less than two hours and got
under cover expeditiously.
By the late afternoon the storm had cleared. The brightness
in? the room drew me to the window. I could see the dazzling
sun-lit peaks. So out we went, equipped with every possible
photographic gadget, in order to do justice to Tibet's glacial
grandeur. At five the next morning there wasn't a cloud in sight,
and all was brilliant and crisp, indeed a little too crisp, for the
small lake beside which we rested for the night had completely
frozen over.
The donkeys which were carrying the transport had left be-
fore midnight- Tharchin and I now followed. Our transport was
becoming more difficult each day. One difficulty was in obtaining
'fresh relays of animals, even though we always sent on word
Penthouse of the Gods
ahead stating our requirements. The head man of the village is
supposed to appoint the family which is next entitled to supply
the beasts, so that every one might have an opportunity to earn
a little. Usually no one family had enough animals, so that we
often had to resort to a medley of donkeys, mules, old horses
and yaks.
Around seven our party of five set off at a fast pace, and we
did not pause until we reached a large camping ground along-
side a small spring. It was all too much to resist, for the spot
was hemmed in by the glacial peaks of the Chumolhari range
which separated Tibet from Bhutan.
Before long the horizon became a solid bank of rising thun-
der-clouds, which made me feel very much at home in Arizona.
The morning was spent in crossing the Lingmo tang (the Plain
of the Weeping Elephant). With nothing but a flat tableland,
covered with pebbles of sandstone from the barren cliffs to our
left and ahead of us, and the turbulent heavens above, it is little
wonder that my thought went on constantly reverting to my
many experiences in crossing Arizona deserts.
The quiet Dochen Lake, along which we were to ride all af-
ternoon, was just coming into viewj it seemed more like a
mirage than real water on top of the world. We pulled up at
Dochen for tiffin, but with such a superb emotional stimulus I
could scarcely think of eating. I found it difficult to tear myself
away from the view, but Tharchin had a friend in the neighbor-
hood whom he had not seen for several years j there was no
alternative but to accept his invitation.
Upon our arrival, the yaks were on the point of starting for
Kala, so I made haste to take pictures. The yak being one of
the few domestic beasts of burden we do not raise in America, I
felt it well worth making a record, and especially against such a
background as offered itself at this moment, an imperial crown
of crystals bathed in heavy clouds. It was fortunate that I took
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the pictures when I did, for when the time came to set off again,
the sky was black with approaching storm, just as it was yester-
day. We resumed our journey amidst a fall of snow, but this
time there was less wind. Almost immediately we were on the
edge of the lake, which we followed for the next couple of
hours. Every minute provided its own inspiration. Hundreds of
large birds rested on the lake's shore. Shortly we overtook the
transport, for the yaks appeared to do more grazing than travel-
ling.
8
Lhare, one of our boys, hoped to see his mother on the fol-
lowing day at Kangmar. It would be their first meeting in sev-
eral years and I felt the trip meant as much to him as it did to
me. Just as we were leaving Dochen, the chowkidw (caretaker
of the bungalow), called Tharchin back and told him a message
just came in saying Lhare's mother had died. Tharchin delayed
telling him until evening rather than to let him ride all the af-
ternoon on a jolting pony trying to nurse his grief.
Finally we left the ice-bordered lake and turned off into a
narrow valley, dotted with small patches under cultivation. The
wind was blowing violently from the opposite direction, laden,
it seemed, with aU the dust of Tibet. The next six or seven miles
were intensely uncomfortable- Daylight was almost extinguished
by the rising bank of dust which filled the valley for miles
ahead. It was a great relief to reach Kala.
After about two hours the yaks arrived, but one horse was
still missing. He had not reached Dochen by the time we left
there, so it was hard to tell when he would reach Kala and he
was bringing all the bedding!
Tharchin was now on the sick list, so I had to cany on as best
I could. I was a bit overcome when I realized that I had been
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Penthouse of the Gods
talking for several hours and had no difficulty in understanding
or making myself understood. We'd all kept pretty healthy ex-
cept a couple of the boys who started to break out with fever
when crossing the Nathu-La. This seems to be frequently the
case when one has had malaria.
Pacing all day on these small Bhotiya ponies over the stony
paths is a memorable experience. They have the same gait as a
cow pony and they are able to keep it up steadily for an entire
day. If the transport problem could be handled, one could cover
this country rapidly. There are only 250 miles or so in the
whole distance. But yaks will not run and donkeys cannot. Con-
sequently, there's nothing to do but be satisfied with about thirty
miles a day.
By early the next morning the sky was clear and the fresh
snow from the night before was gleaming in the rising sun. It
was very still. The toilers of the soil left for their distant fields
with their yak teams, going to break the ground for their spring
planting. Barley and wheat are the chief staples planted in these
parts. There are, also, a few small fields of rice, peas, and mus-
tard.
As soon as the transport was off, we made our way over the
plains toward the canyon which leads to the famous Red Idol
Gorge, reputed to be the hangout for robbers who attack lonely
travellers. At one point along the way the distant hillside was
dotted with large herds of kyangs (wild asses). These are plen-
tiful in Tibet.
The transport which was to carry our provisions to the next
station was waiting. The women were spinning away their time
making woolen? yarn. Each one of these black, greasy Tsang
women had one arm run through the raw wool which she was
patiently spinning out into yarn on a spindle which she kept
constantly revolving in the other hand. Men, too, were spinning.
Indeed, it is not an uncommon sight to see a trader coming along
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with his train of donkeys, with a bag over his shoulder, slowly
spinning, as he walks the rocky trails.
By now Lhare had been told o his mother's death. He ac-
cepted the news in the complete silence of deep sorrow. Thar-
chin told him he need not wait, so he took the next pony and
rode on ahead.
Our ride that afternoon was through a narrow barren valley
banked on both sides with reefs of garnet, shelves of shale and
crumbling mounds of conglomerate. The entire floor of the
canyon had been covered centuries ago by a hail storm of rocks
which had not worn away. All along the trail were the disin-
tegrating ruins of the monuments of the previous cults. With
the rise of every new religious administration the old was de-
stroyed, so that when the Gelupa sect came into power its leaders
did everything to banish all evidence of its predecessor, the
Nyingmapas (old sect or Red Caps). In consequence, today we
have nothing but stone ruins of the habitations of the first
Tibetan teachers. The plain brown hills are still under the pro-
tection of the few remaining chortens, which had been erected
to subdue the evil spirits which dwelled within. This was their
method of preventing landslides and soil erosions. I?rom the evi-
dence available it is difficult to determine as to which have been
the more effective- the Tibetans or the leaders of the New Deal.
At the upper end of the valley, beneath a wasting red sand-
stone cliff, rests the small village of Kangmar, which held the
sadness of our friend Lhare, but for all that he was at the bunga-
low to greet us with a cup of warm tea. How they contain
their feelings of grief and think of your comfort is something
to marvel at. It is a trait to be admired among any group of
people.
Lhare did not see his mother's face. According to the Tibetan
custom at death, one is tied up in a ball with the head between
the knees as it is at birth. When one dies a Lama is called to take
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Penthouse of the Gods
care of the spirit. A high Lama is called in who plucks a hair
on the top of the head and thereby releases the spirit. It is con-
sidered bad to let the spirit escape through any other opening
of the body. This ceremony is known as Phowa in Tibetan.
When these customary ceremonies have been performed, the
body is taken at daybreak to the butchering grounds of the car-
tiers of the dead where it is cut into strips and fed to the vul-
tures.
This is followed by the sale of all the ornaments and other
belongings of the dead, and the performance of a ceremony in
accordance with the amount of their wealth. All this is not very
different from the same customs in other countries.
After the Phowa the spirit is in the Sardo (the place it goes
to after death), where it remains forty-nine days. At the end of
this time it is freed from this world. Sometime during these
forty-nine days the bereaved family or individual goes to a
monastery, makes a gift in return for which the monks offer a
prayer. Often a mound (eighty pounds) of butter is also bought
and a thousand lights offered. At the end of the period, the
Lama who first officiated will perform another short ceremony
to release the spirit. Until the end of the first year the family
remains in mourning.
This period is broken by a feast of sorrow, given for all the
villagers, after which the death is forgotten and ordinary life is
resumed. In many instances the villagers contribute a small
amount as an offering to the dead and to assist in providing for
the feast of sorrow.
This Phowa is said to have commenced with Marpa who went
to India and gained power so that he could transfer his spirit
into the body of another, even whiJe living. He handed this
power on to his son, who misused it and thereby lost it. Con-
sequently this power no longer exists, and the ceremony is but
a relic.
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After a long discussion it was decided we should go on to
Gyantse in the morning. On what day they would dispose of
Lhare's mother's body was not decided and we wanted to reach
Gyantse in time for the various ceremonies of the period, which
is called Sa-kar-dawa, or the fifteenth day of the fourth month
of the Tibetan calendar. This is a very special ceremony, for it
is then that the Lord Buddha is supposed to have ascended.
Lhare would remain behind in Kangmar and join us later. Since
he was the oldest brother he was compelled by custom to see
that everything was properly attended to.
9
The next day was spent going through a narrow barren can-
yon of sliding rocks. To make this trip is about the same as it
would be to start from Tucson or Phoenix, Arizona, and walk
across those barren deserts and climb the dense mountain bar-
riers that separate the deserts from California, the vacation land
of America. We passed through the kaleidoscope of transitional
beauty, given a kind of unity by the tinkling bells of the little
donkeys that carry most of the wool out of Tibet. All through
the early morning the narrow corridor between the canyon walls
was vibrating with the echoes of the sound of the passing ass on
the rocky trail. The tinkling of the bells is to warn the pack
trains coming from the opposite direction around the narrow
ledges of the cliffs.
The Tibetan takes great pride in his beasts, and the leader
is usually dolled up in a necklace of large bells and yak tails.
These are commonly dyed red, and add considerable color to
the animal. Often he has a piece of brocade or embroidery flap
down over his forehead. The animals are very picturesque,
forming a contrast to the dilapidated human animal strolling
along behind the trader.
It is not easy to describe the scenery, in a sense non-existent,
[57]
Penthouse of the Gods
unless one considers the rocks! Yet I, having been raised on the
side of an Arizona rockpile, have an overwhelming urge to go
into perhaps unaccountable raptures at the sight of such barren-
ness. It is not so much what is outside that counts, but it is what
that little does to one on the inside, and a few tumbling rocks
can just about make the old heart jump to one's throat. Our
trail was a crooked one, winding its way along the Nyang River
through the valley of desolation, which was marked by infre-
quent tiny patches of cultivated land upon the narrow banks of
the shallow stream, where the Tibetan is trying to nurse along
a modest crop of wheat. I am told that this region is colorful in
the fall, for then the grass is high and changes the entire as-
pect of the country. I rather thought that the unbroken soil of
the furrowed fields with their little stone-pile scarecrow for rab-
bit defence was in keeping with the tone of the landscape* We
constantly passed the old ruins of the former holdings of the
Nyngmapas, who frequented the valley generations ago. It was
at the time of these destructions that the habit of putting out
the tongue as a sign of respect developed. It was no easy matter
for the Gelupas to overcome the power of their religious com-
petitors- The Nyngmapas held the power of the mantras and
were able to do great damage with this mystical endowment of
misunderstanding, but ultimately the new order overcame them.
The dread of the mystical mantra was still deeply imbedded,
so they forced every one they met to put out his tongue to see
if he possessed the power of the mantra, which manifested itself
by a black coloration on the tongue. Coaaeqfuc tly today you
cannot look at one of them unless he drops hfe tongue to his
chin and sucks back everything that started to pour out on the
next breath, as a salutation of the very highest regard.
No sooner were the animals on their way than we took off
through the valley of the Red Idol Gorge where we had been
heading for the last day and a half. The only difference be*
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tween this country and our own sterile valleys of rock is that
our thermometer goes up to 125 degrees to 150 degress while
in Tibet it is rather cool, due, in part, to the elevation of 13,000
feet. The Red Idol Gorge is an unending gorge of red sand-
stone. A huge Idol of Buddha, carved in the massive face of a
boulder the size of a house, rises sheer from the river bank,
among the tumbled rocks of the floor of the canyon.
Shortly thereafter, we came out onto the Gyants6 Plain,
where the Nyang joins another river. Having come some 250
miles into Central Tibet over one of the oldest and longest trade
routes in the world, the through route to Peking, we were at
last coming within sight of our destination.
The last lap was the most interesting. We rode down a typi-
cal agricultural lane, with fields of wheat just breaking through
the earth spreading for miles on every side. Neat farm houses
and little houses in groves of trees came into view. But the un-
repaired irrigation ditches overflowed in every direction. Just
outside the village a barefoot girl was hurrying across our path,
slopping water all over her threadbare apron, while she gave us
a fleeting glance through the dust we kicked up about her. Ac-
cording to Tibetan custom this meant very good luck: water
crossing your path as you entered a village.
The most interesting person from our country who has trav-
elled this way is Mr, C. Suydam Cutting, who made his first
visit about 1930, at which time he was refused permission to
visit Lhasa even after sending many presents, including some
fine dogs to the late Dalai Lama. In 1935, he returned with
Mr. Varney andt wa* again refused permission. On their return
to Calcutta a wire reached them, giving the desired permis-
sion, so in good old American fashion they hiked straight back.
This was the first time in history an invitation had been ex-
tended, and then only after years of friendship with the Tibetans
and a continual stream of gifts. So what could I expect after a
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Penthouse of the Gods
couple of months and no gifts? At the time it certainly looked
hopeless. It was only another great adventure into the unknown.
Coming to what is known as a forbidden spot on earth, people
seem to think it enough if they walk the ground and make no
effort to find the treasures beneath the surface. Not until and
not since WaddelPs book on Tibetan Lamaism have we had
anything of real value, and every attempt since then has been
more or less a rehash of what he recorded from his twenty-year-
or-more contact with the Tibetans and his trip with the Young-
husband Mission of 1904.
As we turned out of the canyon of boulders onto the alluvial
plains that join with the vast Gyantse Valley great was the con-
trast to the desert waste over which we had been travelling for
days. At the mouth of the canyon rests a small Nanying monas-
tery ("Monastery of the Ancient Ear"), which is one of the
oldest structures in these parts of Tibet. It is a little fortified
cloister, tucked away against the high canyon wall, on top of
which a fort, with walls of great thickness, with its ribbon-like
alternating vertical stripes of red, white and blue, is silhouetted
against the deep blue. What is it that leads people to build such
sanctuaries in such remote corners of the world and spend a life-
time working up intrigue within their walls? This is the habit
in such places, just as it is in our small towns. One of the vir-
tues of the large society of modern civilization stands out in
bold relief when the two are compared. That is, we are in some
measure forced to get away from personal jealousies and assume
a more universal attitude for the growth of man as a silent sen-
tient being. People in our time are much like the bull who has
lost his way. He cleans up his system by plunging straight ahead
through thick and thin, stopping for nothing and destroying all
that comes in his path. So we found a monastery, far from being
a place where one could find solace, was a place where this in-
trigue exists.
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The entire valley floor, before the sanctuary, was under cul-
tivation. A small village was formed of those who worked for
the monks, under the domineering hand of those who are self-
endowed with the power to dispense salvation in this world.
Two large chortens are at either end of the agricultural area,
erected to bring good fortune and to ward the district against
evil. As another means of protection the villager clothes, houses
and feeds the one who is supposed to hold the secrets of the
elements. His business is to see that hailstorms do not come to
these parts and destroy the crops. From the appearance of his
majestic castle, he seems to have given complete satisfaction.
About a mile from the main monastery, built like an eagle's
nest among the crags, is a small retreat which is used as a private
place of meditation.
A few miles farther the Gyantse Jong came into view,
through the distant haze. The fort is built directly into the
rock, with a magnificent superstructure looming above. The vil-
lage and monastery, clustered at its feet for protection, were
too much on our own level to be seen. The ride now became
uncertain; the sky was darkening rapidly. A storm loomed, and
we hastened, hoping to gain the city before it broke. Fortunately
the wind carried it over to the small range of hills and we ar-
rived in nothing worse than a dust storm. We followed a pro-
tected lane of willows to the bungalow. At last I might be able
to have a little milk without the taste of yak dung.
[61]
CHAPTER III
GYANTSE
AER settling in Gyantse my first trip was to interview the
Tibet Trade Agent, who is also the head of the mon-
astery. At the beginning only the courtesies of a visit
were exchanged, but gradually the conversation drifted to the
subject of my desire, just where I wanted to go, how far I
should go, how best I could lay the foundation of future work.
It was a rather uncertain venture into Tibetan psychology. On
the whole, we considered our first two-hour visit our first vic-
tory* I had stressed the fact that I desired to learn everything
possible about their monastery and the teachings of their par-
ticular sect.
The following day was the Dawa Shiwyma CJw Nagfy or the
1 5th day of the fourth month, according to the Tibetan calen-
dar. This is the most auspicious day of the year, as it marks the
enlightenment and the ascension of the Lord Buddha into Nir-
vana, and it is a belief among Tibetans that any good or evil
that is done on this day is increased a millionfokL Indeed, the
result of our visit to the monastery on the day before was that
they were planning to honor me on this celebrated day, and I
was almost afraid to believe that it would ever come true. But
it came to pass, and the experience has become one of the richest
of my life.
The Abbot of the monastery expressed a deep gratification
that a foreigner should take such an interest in their teachings,
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Gyantse
and he felt that it was the working of the great God that I had
come to Tibet at this particular time. He was going to honor
me on this day by the burning of a thousand candles, which is
the highest tribute that can ever be paid to one by ceremonial
worship. All the monks of his institution would turn out and
pray for my long life and happiness. It is a relatively small
monastery, providing for only about 1500 monks. Drepung, the
largest monastery in the world, holds about 10,000. Neverthe-
less, this smaller monastery is impressive.
When we arrived in the early morning, all the monks were
seated on long hand-woven carpets in the large courtyard in
front of the main building. It stirred me deep within to see such
militant humility of ignorance. The higher Lamas formed two
parallel lines in the centre of the great gathering, while the
head Lama sat on a high chair at the end farthest removed from
the entrance, through which we were led to the private room of
the Abbot.
I have already spoken of the graceful way in which Tibetans
mix the externals with the cherished feelings of reverence.
Here, as later in Lhasa, we were conducted through a dark and
spooky kitchen, where the great kettles of tea could be seen
steaming and the workers were stirring the large vats of rice,
which would presently be served to all the monks at this gath-
ering of good will. These kitchens make a different picture from
that advertised by the General Electric for the newly-wed wife,
who will be able to hold her husband only by keeping the skin
of her hands soft and velvety for his caresses. Here one finds
nothing but a black chamber with small earthen ovens built
on the floor in which the wood is stoked, while smoke fills the
room when the draft is not working efficiently.
Ascending a flight of stairs, we entered a long balcony cham-
ber overlooking the religious files through which we had just
passed. Here the friendly Abbot greeted us in his woolen robe
Penthouse of the Gods
of yellowish brown topped with a gorgeous yellow waistcoat of
silk brocade. We were promptly seated on the large Tibetan
cushions adorned with their favorite carpets, which are used in
all ceremonies, and as promptly served with a bountiful plate
of sweets, cookies and nuts.
We remained here while the monks were being fed. Their
chants drifted in, wafted by the wind} these faintly could be
heard, as if from a distance, in the remote hills. In this marvel-
lous setting I had the feeling that it was all happening in ancient
forgotten days. The monastery is perched high, in a hollow, and
is surrounded by a large wall, which skirts the buildings on
the slope of the hill like a broad ribbon} and the whole of it
might have been carried here by the wind. With our backs to
the hills, we could peer for miles over the peasantry, which
maintain this enormous population of religious dependents. To
our left, towering into the lofty clouds, was the Jong> this
rugged work of man merging with Nature's firm handiwork.
The faithful hosts of humility camping below this magnificent
fortress of uncertainty left an indelible impression on my mind.
Here were the pillars of their society to which all must submit.
You begin to wonder how such simple people could ever raise
such walls of glory. Their beauty was erected centuries ago by
the call of faith, evolving the hope of escape in the next rein-
carnation. The whole thing is a crime against nature. The in-
surmountable ego of the human animal must find a way to rise
to power, and in Tibet the easiest avenue which leads to the
greatest power is that of religion. It is about the only avenue
where those on their glorified thrones do not have to offer some-
thing to the suffering downtrodden people who have been their
means to power. All that is given here is a chance to pray, while
in America there must be some more realistic compensation.
Are these the conceptions and teachings of Buddha? NO.
It is all due to Asoka, whose insatiable ego came into power in
Gyantse
India. In the effort to unite his people, while lacking the power
to control the religion of the period, he took up the teachings
of Buddha, and established an organized religion. He built
monasteries and offered rewards to all who would pursue the
given line of thought, so we have the beginnings of the Bud-
dhist religion dating back to the time of ^solsaJand not to the
era of Buddha himself. Nothing holds a people together so
much as a common faith; Asoka knew this. In the seventh cen-
tury there came to Tibet a king, Srong-tsan-Gampo, who like-
wise possessed some understanding of psychology. This king
sent an army of scholars to India who brought back in toto the
teachings of the Lord Buddha; these today make up the Tibetan
Kangyur and Tcngywr. It did not happen in a single year, but
was the result of the gradual process that was working between
the seventh and eleventh centuries. Srong-tsan-Gampo had a
great intellectual capacity; actually, his work was the inspira-
tion of his Chinese and Nepalese wives, both devout Buddhists.
The intellectual stream in this culture is derived from the Chi-
nese; for the true Tibetan aboriginal of the country has a fairly
thick skull. The will to power among the religious leaders is un-
questionable. They will go to any extreme to maintain their po-
sition. A bodyguard is maintained to prevent intrigue within the
walls of the court. Such a foundation will never lead to the de-
velopment of humanity. Will a change ever come to Tibet?
Transfer these people to a more enlightened environment, and
the rulers would have their work cut out for them.
All these reflections came upon me because my eyes happened
to shift from the lanes of the faithful to the power of the throne.
It was now time for me to be taken on my tour of religious
devotion. I started down the stairs and finished in the pinnacle
of the great chorten within the monastery walls. It would take
books to describe all that I experienced on this pilgrimage of
devotion which led us through the dimly candle-lighted shrines
Penthouse of the Gods
to dark passages, across thresholds where no foreigner had
ever before set foot. I beheld the magnificence of the jewelled
altars of gold protected by the glittering deities of the faith,
representing the suppression of the intelligence over centuries.
On each side of the images of religion I left a scarf that I might
be further blest.
The pilgrimage commenced at the front of the monastery,
where I devotedly knelt to the chair dedicated to the Most
Reverent One, the late Dalai Lama. I went with the Abbot
into the main monastery, always starting from the left as I
entered and going around the temple to my right in a clock-
wise manner. There were 3000 candles in the lighted sanc-
tuary. The wildest imagination could never picture the impres-
siveness of these thousands of twinkling lights in a double row
completely around the room. The walls were decorated with
paintings of the deities displaying master craftsmanship on the
part of the Lama artists. The Buddha was of enormous size,
all studded with precious stones. The sixteen disciples of Bud-
dha, which are usually painted on the walls, were represented
by giant figures, adding immensely to the impressiveness,
which would instill religious devotion into any soul. Even the
most hardened heathen would want to bow to such images. You
feel you must do something, but you know not what, and you
know not why. Something deep within is stirred something
that you never realized existed before. It is little wonder that
they are able to wield such power over the masses.
This was just the beginning. Now we started at the private
shrines erected for different deities. In most instances they far
surpassed the grandeur of any Buddhistic spectacle that I had
ever visited. Our next shrine of devotion was another of the
Lord Buddhaj it was protected by immense doors under the
constant guard of its keeper. The entire image was gold-plated,
and lavishly covered with jewels. The minor images were
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Gyantse
equally valuable. Still the people die of starvation, that yet an-
other precious gem may adorn this material representation of
the Law of Life.
We went through dozens and dozens of gloomy hidden
sanctuaries of this sort. Imagine the wealth that is stored be-
hind these stuffy walls' This was only a small monastery, so
what can be the wealth of Lhasa, where the Lamas have been
damming up religious sweat for centuries? I had heard for
many years of the fabulous wealth hidden away in these im-
penetrable dungeons of faith, but being sceptical I always
fancied that the authors drew considerably on their imagina-
tions. Now that I had come to see them with my own eyes, it
was my impression that no one had even begun to describe the
untold riches which had been amassed by this church during
the centuries of its domination.
Never before, I was told, had a foreigner been permitted to
set foot across these sacred thresholds. The enormous deities
are at all times guarded with locks of iron. Even Waddell,
Sir Charles Bell, and David Macdonald, who, of all Europeans,
enjoyed the most intimate relationship with the Tibetans, fail
to record any such opportunity. It is difficult to predict how long
this will last, as throughout the rest of the world the church is
losing its hold on the people. People are no longer willing to
submit to such blind rule. Jhey demand a place in this life as
well as in the next) The church does not offer this to them, so
today they are out to get it for themselves.
The late Dalai Lama has been dead now for over jive years
and they still have not been able to find a small child who is
supposed to be his reincarnation. This is the first time in the
history of the country that there has been such a lapse of time
between the death of a Dalai Lama and the finding of his re-
incarnation. There is a prediction that the thirteenth Dalai
Lama will be the last one, and the late Dalai Lama was the
thirteenth.
[6 7 ]
Penthouse of the Gods
Among the chambers which we visited was one in which all
their weapons and implements of discipline are kept. It was a
dark, dusty, dingy cell. As you entered you became aware of
an enormous form overhead which could not be made out in the
dim light. Once the candles were turned toward the ceiling
you could see cobwebbed figures of yaks hanging from the
rafters. They had been there for centuries and were almost
as sacred as the deities themselves. They are the beasts which
were used in building this enormous monastery. You cringed
as you circled the room to examine its weapons of hostility.
After visiting all the shrines on the lower floors we went
above where we found the usual chambers of the Thousand
Buddhas and one erected to the late Dalai Lama, of which I
tried to take a picture. The whole tour turned out to be a pho-
tographic escapade for me. I missed no chance to snap a picture.
Besides the endless idols of pure gold in the sealed room con-
taining the KoMgyur, completely written in gold, there were
endless representations of the deities in various sexual embraces,
portraying the way of all flesh.
It was late in the afternoon when we finally got away from
the monastery. We were let out by a monk who swung a long
strap to beat away the crowd, so that we might pass through
undefiled by them.
There is no question that this was the greatest experience I
had ever had in my life up to this time.
The British officer in command at Gyantse was to arrive early
in the morning to accompany us to the monastery to witness
the dance which is considered the biggest one they hold in this
section. The head Abbot was engaged with a service when we
arrived, so we strolled about the main nave of the principal
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Gyantse
temple. There are eighteen of them altogether within the walls
which make up the Gyantse monastery proper, but everything
revolves around this one. The others are more or less private
chapels. I was delighted to have the opportunity to observe
these works of art more carefully and at my leisure. One of
the most interesting things was an enormous altar of carved
and painted butter before which the eternal light was burning.
The designs were very intricate and the entire discs were painted
in rich, raw colors.
It was not long before we were called to a very tasteful
Tibetan lunch of about fifteen courses, every one of which I en-
joyed to the utmost. It is most fortunate that I have been able
to master the art of eating with chopsticks. Here nothing else is
to be had. It is incredible how much food one can eat there and
still be hungry soon. In the beginning I thought I took too
much tea, but it had no ill effect.
It was a very gay party. We listened and watched the
dance progress as we ate. There was no need to hurry as the
dance would go on for hours. After lunch, the Tibetan barley
beer, called chang, was brought. Enormous quantities are
drunk. It is said to remove the evil effects of gorging. When
dining with the Tibetans it is impossible ever to finish, as
they never stop refilling your plate or cup. As soon as it was
possible to call a halt, we sat down among the dancers after
forging our way through the dense barrier of spectators lined
up twenty deep.
The performance began with a long procession led by a torch-
bearer and followed by several persons carrying beautiful silver
teapots. As soon as the head Lama was seated with the orches-
tra, which consisted of cymbals, large drums, and a pair of
long Tibetan horns, the dancers started to come on to the stage
to the rhythm of the music which begins the devotional steps
of the dance. First came a couple of dozen persons wearing
[6 9 ]
Penthouse of the Gods
huge weird masks, clothed in glamorous silk brocades, jewelled
with strings of human bones, holding a skull in one hand and a
large sword in the other.
The action might be better described as a religious chant
than a dance, for it was slow and deliberate and accomplished
at a snail's pace. By the end of the first hour the dancers all
entered a pavillion and, performing a circle there, they slowly
departed, while the next set of dancers came on, consisting of a
pair of devils who went through a series of variations describing
frantic gestures of mirth. They were followed by a couple rep-
resenting skeletons, who caused much excitement among the
crowd with their gyrations. Their final performance was to
drag away the entrails which had been taken out of the Lama
seated at the center of the scene by two little devils who had
announced the appearance of the skeletons by means of ges-
tures. The entrails, I should add, were actually lengths of rope.
The ends of these innards appear to reach the hands of the
skeletons, who by this means are dragged off the stage.
The music ceased for a brief interval, while the next set of
dancers arranged their costumes. As they were ready to come
on, and the accompaniment began, the Officer of the Day used
long leather thongs to beat the crowd back and permit the per-
formers to enter. A couple of slashes could scarcely be felt
through the layers of heavy garments worn by the monks, but
the psychological effect must be very deep. When these wield-
ers of the lash were not so engaged, they circled among the
dancers and saw to it that their costumes were at all times in
order. The pride which they take in everything they do is as-
tonishing. There are no extremes to which they will not go
that all may be properly cared for.
The final act was performed by the same large group which
had come on in the beginning. This time the procession con-
tinued until they circled the entire stage. They remained there
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Gyantse
for an hour or so, leaping from one leg to the other in time with
the crashing cymbals and droning horns.
While the dance was still in progress, long carpets were un-
rolled in the pavillion, and tea was served. After another hour
all action suddenly stopped, and the orchestra stepped out of
the box, slowly filing off the stage, followed by the dancers in
well-spaced procession. Thus ended one of the unforgettable
pageants of the Tibetan Lamas.
The great crowd formed a deep wall of human flesh. They
covered all available space on the housetops and in the windows.
There were many faces worn with toil, finding the excuse to be
merry for a moment, and I found them as interesting as the
dancers.
I imagine I provided more amusement than the dancers. Re-
gardless of where I went, friendly laughter greeted me. I do
not know if it was just I, a stranger, or envy of my beard. A
beard is something the best of them cannot grow or buy. They
preserve their one or two hairs as if they were pure gold.
Throughout the masses could be seen waving heads of the
Tsang headdresses worn by the women. When lavishly covered
with pearls, it is a decorative ornament. On poor peasants,
who are never without it even in the fields, it looks more like
a check-rein to hold the head up rather than a thing of beauty.
The time had come to pay our respects to our host. The sun
was already setting and a heavy storm coming up. After a last
sip of chcmg we rode off through the fighting mob.
On returning to the bungalow I learned that Mary and Jigme
had just arrived. I had been planning to meet them at Kalim-
pong before my departure, but something prevented them from
starting on their proposed journey to India at the time. He is a
general of the Confederate army and holds considerable influ-
[71]
Penthouse of the Gods
ence in the Government, so a letter was sent immediately to
make arrangements for a meeting. Tomorrow would tell the
result of our effort. The head of the fort seemed to favor
me, so much would depend on the friendship with Mary and
Jigme, the son of Tering Raja, the rightful Raja of Sikkim,
who, owing to some little trouble years before, had relinquished
his place to his brother, the present Maharajah.
Jigme wore a peculiar hat with red silk tassels falling below
the bottom rim. It was a conical shape, studded in front with
turquoises and pearls. The peaked crown was of gold. When he
removed it from his head, his hair revealed similar adornments
of jewels. Mary was arrayed in the usual Tibetan splendor.
Both having been educated at Darjeelmg, they could speak
perfect English, and we had an interesting talk about Tibetan
matters. He was a young man of my own age and was the head
of the military forces, but you could never guess this by looking
at him. He possessed both a shrewd mind and a keen imagina-
tion, and he was eager to expand the outlook of his country. I
had a feeling that he would go far in counteracting the influence
of the older generation of Tibet with its hampering deviations
into the past. As elsewhere, the younger people of Tibet are
anxious to take on the newer customs of another civilization.
One thing is certain: any change to be effected in Tibet can
be accomplished only by the enthusiasm of youth determined
to bring about a measure of happiness for the greatest number.
The following morning we were up at the usual early hour
of four. For one thing, we were anxious to be at the monastery
in time to witness the hanging of their sacred thangka of
Buddha. Over 150 feet high, it is made up of three parts, one
of which is missing today, having been taken by the British
Mission in 1904. I understand that it now hangs in one of the
museums in England. What remains, however, holds more
interest than one is able to absorb during the one hour that it
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Gyantse
hangs on this single occasion each year. I had heard of this
masterpiece o ancient craftsmanship before, but little did I
dream that I should be able to witness its single annual display 5
for not only do you have to be here on the right day, but also*
at the right hour. The thmgka was raised on to a high wall of
rocks which formed a part of the ridge of the surrounding wall
of the monastery. It reminded me of the great wall of China.
The Abbot received us graciously. He had seats arranged so
that we should have the best view. All through the morning
there was a constant flow of tea and Tibetan cakes to which I
generously helped myself, as I had missed breakfast. With his
permission and a monk's assistance, I climbed from one house-
top to another, taking and retaking pictures in the hope that I
should be able to get at least one worth saving. The Abbot
showed uncommon enthusiasm over my photography, and he
brought out his favorite thcmgka for me to try to reproduce
for him. It was by far the finest piece of workmanship that I
had yet seen, but as luck would have it I had run out of my
colored film.
The same day we rode out seven miles to visit Tering Raja,
the father of Mary and Jigme. We crossed newly sown fields
and passed pack trains of donkeys winding their ways over the
dusty trails from Lhasa en route to India. Life for these trad-
ers is nothing but packing and unpacking, broken by intervals
of prolonged tramping. They are, however, a cheerful lot, ever
ready to exchange a jest with one another. Their jokes are closer
to the type to be found around the campfire of cowboys than to
the more sophisticated specimens of the New Yorker.
The servants received us in typical Tibetan fashion. When
calling, we do not go to the door and knock, but we send our
servant around to their servants' quarters; and our servant and
their servant between them decide if the host is in and if it is
time for us to enter. They always know when you are coming.
[73]
Penthouse of the Gods
The custom is to send a servant around on the day before to
announce that you intend paying a visit on the morrow. The
message, "Come by all means," is usually sent back.
There were three different families in this one family, so
there was some special etiquette to be complied with. We con-
sulted the servants on the proper procedure. They informed us
which cards were to be given, and in what order. I followed
directions explicitly, and all came out well. Along with the
proper k&tas very small gifts were given. It is improper to go
anywhere in this land empty-handed. The Tibetan usually has
a couple of dozen eggs on hand, which he passes on at such
an occasion, and by the time these eggs have changed hands a
couple of hundred times during the several years of friendly
intercourse well, you can imagine what state they are in.
Nevertheless, the gesture has been made, and that is all that
is necessary. It is not the worth but the gesture that matters*
Being a mere foreigner, I could hardly get away with that!,
I wish you could have seen the dried carcasses of yak and
sheep which Tharchm had received since our arrival, along with
a wonderful Easter egg collection. He is not in the least con-
cerned about it. When he goes calling he merely passes the eggs
on to the next group. If you have a few eggs to start with
you are set up for life, as far as visiting is concerned. All who
come to you must bring, too. And you never fail to return a
visit. In the case of Tharchm, who had come with me, he fared
luckier than mostj as soon as his friends heard of his arrival
in Gyants6 after his long absence, they sent around to him gifts
of meat, and grain for the pony, gifts of some value. If you like
jerkey (dried meat), you are delighted. I must confess I had
been keeping a crate of it around me to nibble at whenever I
felt that craving for raw meat which developed from this primi-
tive existence of mine. Being of a literary turn of mind,
Tharchin rarely visited anywhere without taking an armful of
[74]
Gyantse
books along, which served as return gifts. More than once he
saved my face by having them in readiness. Being a foreigner,
to be sure, I was given considerable latitude in the matter, and
every one made things as pleasant as possible for me.
Upon our arrival, Mary and Jigme offered us the regular
Jacob biscuit and tea 5 after this we had some sweets, then din-
ner. It is the custom to start with appetizers, to be nibbled with
chopsticks, from about ten, fifteen, or thirty small dishes. Then
you are served with a bowl of Tibetan noodles, resembling
vermicelli in well-seasoned soup. Scarcely have you finished
this, when another helping is forced on you, then another and
another, until you have had about six or seven bowls. They
will not take No for an answer. There is no alternative but to
keep at it, and the astonishing thing is that you are never
stuffed. As usual, we finished off with Chang (beer), and for
the rest of the afternoon I had a constant stream of this
liquid trickling down my throat j Tibetan hosts insist on re-
filling your cup, and if you are not drinking the servant picks
up your still full cup, a sort of delicate hint that he cannot
refill it as long as it is full so what is one to do?
As it happened, Jigme's hobby was photography. He brought
out endless pictures of Lhasa, and of the monasteries which he
had visited with the Regent. I need scarcely say how intensely
they interested me. Jigme made a very god job of it, too. When
he was in Lhasa he had his equipment, and did all his own de-
veloping and printing. An official of the Government, he could
afford this hobby, which is rather expensive in Tibet.
We returned to our bungalow to watch the setting sun over
the Jong after my first real Tibetan party.
4
At threer-thirty in the morning I was awakened and told that
the shots had been fired to start the wild horse race, or rather,
[75]
Penthouse of the Gods
I should say, the riderless horse race. We hastened to dress and
go out, but it was not until above five that they came rushing
through the cheering crowds, driven on by several men on
horseback. The crowd shouted at the top of its lungs trying to
frighten the horses away from its path. It was a queer sort of
race between the horses of the two biggest landlords of the
neighborhood; and this riderless Marathon took place every
year.
On the night before the race, the Jongpen goes to the stable
where the horses are stalled and attaches his official seal. This
is to prevent substitution. Then in the middle of the night the
horses are taken up the road about seven miles. At a signal they
are turned loose and chased the entire distance by riders on little
ponies. The object is to get your horse there by hook or by
crook before one of your rival's horses. Everything is fair j you
can misdirect, hinder, or do anything which occurs to you. It is
a mad rush from start to finish.
The most interesting aspect of the occasion was the way the
people turned out at this early hour. As Tharchin says: "The
Tibetan has so much joy in his heart that even the beggar
feels it is his duty to make merry on such festive occasions."
I had thought few people lived in Gyantse, but when I saw
the multitudes that swarmed the hills, as thick as summer flies,
I realized that it was true that this is the third town in Tibet
in size. The night before Tharchin had arranged with a friend
that we witness everything from the roof of his house. Like
most of the houses in these parts, it only had one room that was
kept clean. We were finally escorted into the beautiful private
chapel.
No sooner had we arrived than tea was served. As I have
often said, all the time is tea time in Tibet. As soon as word
reached us that the ponies were coming, we dashed to the roof,
from where we saw them running furiously through the divided
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Gyatitse
crowd, all of whom were shouting, throwing stones, doing any-
thing and everything to encourage greater speed on the part of
their favorite.
The passing excitement was most revealing of the Tibetan
character. Women stopped with water jugs on their backs and
gave three cheers. Others made mad dashes to gather the dung
before the next pony flew by, while others stopped mumbling
their sacred mcmtras and only continued spinning their prayer-
wheels. These they never put down. One of the most usual
sights in Tibet is a woman with a revolving prayer-wheel in
one hand, a baby in the other, and a large water jug on the bent
back, cheerfully trotting along some lonely path.
The officials of the occasion were beautifully clad in royal
silks which would make any woman cry out in envy. They sat
like knights in saddles of gold on their small Bhotiya ponies.
One rarely sees in any other country so much gold in everyday
use. The Tibetan will do anything for gold or turquoise, or
pearls or coral. Why these things should be such favorites I do
not know, but you never find a Tibetan without his turquoise.
Even the most humble trader has his earrings of plated gold
set with turquoise.
Jigme was particularly anxious to find a way to import tur-
quoise directly into Tibet, and also gold and silver. The color
of gold is a royal sign and only those of official rank are
permitted to wear silks of that color. Along with this color
there is one other distinguishing feature of an official. He has
the privilege of doing up his long braids, so that in most
instances you will see a crown of black hair interwoven with
red braid and adorned with a turquoise ornament.
5
We visited the Jongpen, a man of wealth, and with consider-
able influence with the Government. He was a very close friend
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Penthouse of the Gods
of Tharchin, so it was possible to lay our case before him. I
had already received warm expressions of his feelings toward
me, owing to the great event at the monastery} he was a very
devout Buddhist. When I first met him in Calcutta he was on a
pilgrimage to Buddha Gaya; on his return he had telephoned
to mej so something of a relationship already existed. We out-
lined our plan, and he told us exactly what to do, adding a
prediction that we should encounter no difficulty in receiving
permission. He himself strongly favored my so much desired
visit, and he volunteered a personal letter to the Regent to go
along with mine. My hopes rose to a high peak.
Before I took leave of the Jong$en he insisted that I visit
his pnvate temple. It was an immaculately clean room, beauti -
fully adorned, and not a spot in it but was touched with color
and reverence. There can be no doubt that these shrines instil
a mood of peace and meditation in all those who enter them.
And how fortunate is he who can retire to such a place of
solitude and devotion in his own home! Can one have a better
opportunity than here of beginning the day with an hour of
communing with that inner self which is the source of spiritual
growth? But this is incompatible with the speed of present-day
life. The consciousness will not be forced. Relaxation and in-
finite patience are necessary} these must become a habit, if the
consciousness is to have an opportunity of expressing itself, of
satisfying its pangs of hunger after a long enforced fast. Here
is where Yoga is helpful. Its greatest gifts can neither be
measured nor seen. It permits us to understand the hidden
purpose behind all the endless designs to be found in Buddhist
art, such as the thangkas and the drawings of the numberless
deities, whose nature has been influenced through the various
aspects of these teachings. If one is trained in Yoga, all that is
needed is a place where one may be silent, where the body is
made restful by liberation from the numerous external needs,
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Gyantse
Even so, I am forced to take leave of my contemplative
mood, and to return to the realities of the day.
We made a hurried departure for the sporting ground.
Countless hundreds were trying to force their way through the
narrow streets. For over a mile the way was a solid reddish
brown of slowly moving humanity. The women stood out by
their enormous tsang headdress 3 there were many of them, and
they formed a picturesque motionful design. I tried to take
pictures of the great procession, in spite of the rain and almost
blinding wind-storm. It was gorgeous beyond compare, this
mile-long dense chain of golden silk brocade.
I hurried off to keep an appointment for lunch with an im-
portant British official, whose aid I needed if I was to secure
permission to go to Lhasa. He showed a very friendly interest
in my plan. By this time the British officer at Gyantse had over-
whelmed me with invitations to tea, lunch, dinner, and games.
So far I had not been able to avail myself of his kindness. On
that afternoon, however, my insistent host came forward and
invited me to play a practice game of polo. He had to keep
in form, as he was to play against the Political department as
soon as Mr. H. E. Richardson, I. C. S., returned from Lhasa
where he headed the Political Mission. To play this game at an
altitude of over 13,000 feet is no small strain even for the rider.
Nevertheless, I warmly consented. Living with the Tibetans
twenty-four hours a day has its compensations, yet I found that
a short breathing spell lent charm to the adventure. My prob-
lem finally resolved itself into the dilemma of reconciling study
at the monastery and the indulgence in polo. The only way out
was to begin the day at four, which would give me a long
interval of work before any one should stir. This would neces-
sitate my taking on a dual personality, which in any case seems
to be my favorite pastime j I change so rapidly at times that
I can scarcely tell what I really am.
[79]
Penthouse of the Gods
Day after day the great whirl of teas and parties continued.
I cannot forbear mentioning the extraordinary party at the
home of Choktey Jongpen. Tharchin and I entered a small
courtyard, which has a stable large enough to hold his twenty
horses. I had been here only yesterday, but today I was con-
ducted by a different entrance into yet another courtyard, at
one end of which was the Jongpetfs tent, which in itself was
something of a palace 5 its grandeur impressed me. The women
and girls present were attired in their best, and the men were in
their enviable silk brocades. The latter were congregated for
conversation on the customary floor-mats round two large, low
Tibetan tables in the two far corners of the tentj while the
women sat over a European table in the left-hand corner as
you entered. I must confess that it would be hard to find a more
charming face than that of the Jongpetfs wife, with its sparkling
bright black eyes so full of life and spirit when they smiled.
We often think of the beauty of Japanese women as capturing
the prize of the East. But we have cause here to revise this
judgment. The astonishing thing is that the Tibetan woman's
skin is as fair as our own, but imagine this fair skin against a
frame of glistening jet-black hair, which has been done up in
two long braids tied together at the bottom by a pink tassel
woven into the hair. This coiffure makes it rather difficult to
distinguish between a man and a woman, for the hair of both
is arranged to hang alike in braids, with the same red tassel
worked into the design* As for Jigme's jewelled crown of black
hair, it could be counted upon always to hold your attention
in much the same manner as would the top of a zebra wood-
pecker in these parts. But to return to the women: there is no
more graceful sight than to watch their delicate white* hands
manipulate the ivory chopsticks, with which they daintily pick
[so]
Upper left The jewelled henddress worn by the noblewomen from Tsang province Uffer
' i JJ T. rt ,,> J Mnf +],it Mr
Gyantse
up the nuts or other tidbits from the table, and I warrant that
even the poet Byron, who did not like to see a woman eat, would
have succumbed to the grace with which an aristocratic Tibetan
woman performs this unpoetic function.
And now, that we are on the subject of eating, perhaps you
would like to know what a Tibetan banquet is like, and, luckily,
I need not linger over it here as long as the actual meal lingers
and that is, literally, for hours and hours.
We scarcely entered the tent when we were served with
sweets and tea, constantly replenished until the dinner proper
itself. We had arrived early in the morning, and the main meal
came on at twelve noon. At no time were there less than fifteen
dishes on the table. I did not keep strict count, but from a rough
check-up, there must have been fifty or more courses. I remem-
ber that when, after a couple of hours of feasting, pineapple
was brought in, I felt inward relief, imagining that this must
be the end. But not There were eighteen other courses after
this, and it must have taken another hour and more to consume
them. Then the dessert. I helped myself to that, too. But that
wasn't enough. The hostess would insist that you took another
helping. And then when you have seen the dishes removed, and
are congratulating yourself in consequence, yet another set
comes on, and these must be generously sampled. If they think
you are being bashful, they will fill up a silver Chinese scoop,
used as a rule as a spoon for liquids but often as a substitute for
a plate, and hand it to you for you to nibble at. These tidbits
may be trifles in themselves, but when you go on eating all
day it amounts in the end to gorging. They would regard a
nice thick steak with horror.
Having an interest in some of the dishes unfamiliar to me, I
promptly made inquiries. To my astonishment, the ladies did
not have the slightest idea as to how they were prepared, for a
woman of their class had nothing to do with cooking or, for
[81]
Penthouse of the Gods
that matter, with anything that might be thought of as work.
We in the West think that women should at least know how
such things are done, whether they have anything to do with
it or notj not so with these women. There are hundreds of
servants around, so why should they even think of such a thing?
For the benefit of the curious, it might be well to go into
some particulars of the dishes usually served at these festive
Tibetan affairs. As I have already mentioned, upon arrival one
is offered India tea with Jacob's biscuits and hard dried apricots.
Later a bowl containing three sweet rolls, a flavored dumpling
and some sweet milk are brought. At brief intervals many small
dishes put in an appearance on the tables j they contain: stewed
mutton in gravy, with onions, herrings; half green peaches,
stewed peaches; tinned pineapple slices; dried dates; Chinese
sweets; peanuts; Mongolian ham, yak tongue; pressed beef;
plain beef; small dishes of sauce, etc.; and the Chinese spoon
is brought in with a saucer. There is usually a continuous supply
of chang (barley beer).
All these are a mere preliminary to the main meal, which
is brought on in numerous small dishes. These are placed around
the center of the table, whereupon there is a great diving of
chopsticks from all directions. The only individual course is a
bowl of dumplings or of vermicelli soup, which is a very fre-
quent dish in this country. Every one has the opportunity of
expressing his appreciation by eating the dumplings or the soup
as loudly as possible, in order to demonstrate to the host how
much he is enjoying his dinner. The customary courses are the
following:
1. Minced mutton and gravy.
2. Fine minced meat rolled m butter with vermicelli, celery
and cabbage.
3. Minced meat in pastry.
4. Slices of very firm fish with onions, carrots and boiled
bacon.
[82]
Gyantse
5. Sea slugs in soup, with boiled pork.
6. Round meat dumplings.
7. Green peas and wine.
8. Hard-boiled eggs quartered in a sauce*
9. Pastry dumplings.
10. Bamboo roots and boiled pork.
11. Eels in soup with pork and onions.
12. Rice with raisins and cherries.
13. Small squares of sweet fried bread.
14. Jam dumplings and sponge cake.
15. Shark's stomach, boiled pork and carrots, minced yak,
pieces of mutton, steamed ricej four varieties of white bread
pastries, and also soup.
A meal such as this, of course, is to be had only in the homes
of the very wealthy j for most of these ingredients have to be
imported from India and China, and some of them come in
sealed tins. But these importations are no more extraordinary
than our own from Europe or from the Orient.
On the whole, I held up very well under this elaborate menu,
though I was not anxious to repeat the performance for a few
days at least. Altogether it lasted seven hours, with brief in-
tervals of talk and picture-taking. I must confess I was not
bored. Several important personages were there, including the
British official whose support I needed for the realization of my
dream of going to Lhasa.
7
I was leaving no stone unturned. There were constant con-
ferences with the Choktey Jongpen, who seemed greatly en-
couraged with my prospects. There was nothing to do, however,
but wait another two or three weeks for the outcome of our
effort.
In the meanwhile I was making every effort to pick up a
[8 3 ]
Penthouse of the Gods
Tibetan Tengyur, and, contrary to reports, I did not find this at
all easy, though I had been more than a week at it. The fact is,
the Tibetan is very reluctant to sell anything that has any con-
nection with his religion. It is his belief that it is wrong to do so.
Even a declaration of my desire to familiarize the Western
world with Tibetan teachings did not seem to be a sufficient
inducement to make them part with the books. There were a set
of blocks near Shigatse, but they had been used for so many
hundreds of years without being cleaned that it was next to
impossible to read the print any longer. I had feelers out in
various directions in the hope of securing a good copy. It is odd
that, in spite of the deep feeling the Tibetan shows for his sacred
books, he rarely reads them, although the very scholarly pore
over the time-worn lines, but these are so few that they might
almost be numbered on the fingers of your hands. The chief
purpose of a copy of the Tengywr y it would seem, is to throw it
into the mortar that goes into the building of a chorten or a
large image of Buddha, or put it on the shelves of a new
monastery in the course of construction. Indeed, it has become
a thing of no great value in itself, but a religious ornament of
antiquity.
Yet in the matter of living the average Tibetan exhibits
great gifts. The "joy of living" is, indeed, no idle phrase, when
applied to him. It was while still waiting for permission to go
on to Lhasa that one morning a large group of Tibetan folk
gathered in the courtyard of my bungalow to gamble and to
drink chmg. They collected in a great circle, with their main
source of supply in the center. Throughout the entire day they
drank and sang and danced. When we returned in the evening
after a day's activity we found them still there, old and young
prancing to the rhythm of the choir and the clapping of the
audience. Their singing went on for hours and tea was served
them; I imagined that at the end of the day we should see the
Gyantse
last of them, but in this I was mistaken. They explained that it
was time for them to have their picnic, and that very likely
they would remain for an entire week. They were out for a good
time, and neither love nor money could make them move along.
On the following afternoon, while I was writing, a group of
Lamas boldly made themselves comfortable in the rear part
of my yard, on the grass, beneath the willow hedge. They spent
a happy hour engaged in conversation. I had almost forgotten
about them, when suddenly a tune carried on gusts of wind
broke upon my ear. I looked out to see whence it came, only
to discover that I now had a party of Tibetan women at the
other end of the grounds, being inspired apparently by generous
helpings of chang. For the rest of the afternoon their happy
voices filled the air. They reminded me of the first time that
I rode into a party of Navajos singing; their melody was much
the same, and sung in the same key.
I think I have made it clear that it is hard to keep lonesome
in these partsj there is always a party going on, and this seems
to be the favorite picnic ground of the neighborhood. It is not
at all unusual to return from a visit to find a long row of head
ornaments stirring above the tops of the low mud walls in front
of the grounds j when you come nearer and peer over the wall
you will see three or four sheep grazing at the end of a rope,
while their caretakers are discussing the gossip of the village,
personal intrigue concerns them as does those of our own race,
whose imagination is no greater than their petty jealousies.
Having some kind of mind, they have to yield to its natural
tendency to be active. And, their imagination being scant, they
spend their waking hours on these trifling externals.
Every morning at four a Lama from the monastery came
over to give me instruction. One morning about eight another
visitor arriveds he had an overwhelming interest in American
skyscrapers, about which he had heard a great deal, so a copy
[85]
Penthouse of the Gods
of the rotogravure section of The New York Times came into
its own. He pored over its pages like a child, and when he
was done with that he plied me with questions about the Ameri-
can flag. In the absence of Old Glory, I did my best to give
him some idea of what it looked like. Another thing that always
amazed these people is how I have managed to learn to speak
English. They appeared to think that we of America had a
language all our own. They were utterly flabbergasted when
they were told that England and America had the same lan-
guage* After this they would ask what other matters the two
peoples had in common, and everything intensely interested
them.
I know of no other people so easy to entertain. They reveal
awe on learning of the most common details of our everyday
life. The simpler the thing seems, the more they appear to en-
joy it. Perhaps this is natural, as their own life is different in
so many respects. Yet America is a fabulous place to them, and
when they learn that you are from this country they are sure
to overwhelm you with questions.
A wire from Lhasa, sent me by the wife of one of Tibet's
most powerful individuals, encouraged me no end.
The time had now come to begin our calls at the homes of
several of the large landlords of the neighborhood. I recall
one of these visits with particular interest. The house was a
large three-story structure surrounded by the customary mud
wall fifteen feet high. On entering we were greeted by the
usual loud growl of a Tibetan mastiff that was housed in a
small enclosure to the left of the gate as you stepped into the
courtyard. Through a hole about a foot and a half square he
could see every one who came in. Fortunately, he was chained.
Just to see him and hear him put the fear of God into one- He
[86]
Gyantse
was the size of a large St. Bernard, but he resembled an African
lion, decorated with a big woolly red collar round his neck.
The Tibetan likes dressing up his animals. The finest horse to
the lowest little donkey is always provided with some sort of
adornment to enhance his appearance. Bright red is the pre-
dominant color. The traders will often attach a couple of large
yak tails, resembling grandma's dusters and dyed a scarlet
red, to the necks of their favorite animals.
The courtyard we entered had the usual stable fitted up to
accommodate twenty-five horses. In a small patio within the
compound of the house, similar to that of a Mexican dwelling,
there was another large stable, so that on calling you conducted
your horse into the house with you and left him at the foot of
the stairs, which led into a dark, dingy, smoky, gloomy and
filthy attic veranda, connected with the servants' quarters.
With the interior walls of the courtyard covered with cow
dung and the stables near, you can imagine what the dining
room would be like when it is within spitting distance. More-
over, the only sanitary arrangement consists in vacating one
of the lower rooms of the house and cutting a small hole
through the ceiling, thus enabling the use of the room above
as a toilet. Fortunately, it is a cold dry climate here, so that
everything freezes up quickly, and the lower room is entered
only once a year for the purpose of cleaning it that is, among
the more high-minded. The door, however, is usually left open,
and the dogs manage to keep the place fairly clean, so that
when you are visiting in Tibet and that moment of embarrass-
ment comes over you, just search for a room with a hole in the
floor. It can usually be found next to one of the stairways. ,
After getting through the dung smoke, we were led to the
next flight of stairs, which consists of a pair of large beams
extending up and beyond the next floor, much like the long
sticks coming out of an American Indian's Kiva. The cross-
[87]
Penthouse of the Gods
pieces which formed these steps were at convenient distances
that is, if you happened to be a tall person. As for coming down,
I suppose they always figured you could fall down. At all
events, we presently found ourselves in the so-called parlor,
which is the one immaculate, polished room in the house, for
which thanks are due to Buddha. Here is the small private
shrine, with Tibetan cushions and the customary small carpets
arranged on the floor around a very low table about a foot from
the ground. Directly beneath the table the cushion is invariably
a little higher than elsewhere, and whether you sit higher or
lower depends on your rank. In all my visits I was always
accorded the honor of the highest seat, with my host either on
the level or just below me. They are very hospitable in this
matter, and a protest on your part leads nowhere. After much
obsequiousness on both sides, you finally settle to a friendly
conversation, which begins by your host asking what sort of life
you have had, if you have had a pleasant journey, if you are
tired j he hopes that everything has gone well with you, that
no injury has befallen you, that no misfortune has overtaken
you on your journey, and now that you have arrived every-
thing is comfortable and your animals are well taken care of.
Actually, all this is merely the equivalent of our own custom
of opening the conversation by talking about the weather.
A person of inferior rank will always address his betters in
a whisper, and at no time will he permit his own vile breath
to contaminate the other. He will hold his hands down and
look upon the floor, or put his hand over his mouth and speak
in very subdued tones. To the stranger from the West his
humility must seem sickening. Among persons of equal rank,
however, conversation is carried on in the same direct fashion
as among us.
Another little gesture that is entertaining to watch is the
way in which a slightly inferior person will accept a piece of
[88]
Gyantse
cake, a sweet or a tidbit that is offered him. He will bend for-
ward on his feet, arise, and then, with his head hung low, break
off a small crumb with his hands in the customary "lay me down
to sleep" fashion of praying, murmuring all the while ob-
sequious thanks in the usual undertone. And, of course, he
would not think of sipping his tea so that it could not be heard
by the servants at the other end of the house.
Among these people there is virtually no privacy, whatever
their rank. You are sure to be served by some greasy servant,
or even a half dozen of them, if the host happens to be one
of the higher rank. The latter have learned some acquaint-
ance with cleanliness, and you naturally expect their servants
to be clean m their dress and appearance; yet such is not the
case. They are as greasy and as dirty as if they were serv-
ants of the lower classes, and regardless of how immaculate
a room may be and the richness of the clothing the wealthy
may wear, it is something of a shock to see the servants trailing
in with their five-year-old gowns, their sleeves rolled up to the
elbows, giving the impression that they have just been in-
terrupted in some other piece of menial work to attend to the
wants of their master's visitors. The host might be clad in the
finest of royal silks, but his servants will be like all the rest
of the unfortunates in the land. The contrast is surely im-
pressive.
I must admit, however, to having enjoyed my morning. We
began by imbibing India tea, then China tea, and finally, just
before leaving, the tea of Tibet. My host was one of the
intellectuals in these parts. There was never a more homely face
attached to the shoulders of an individual, 'but never did a face
pour forth greater radiance than his/ It was one of the most
irreconcilable combinations that I have ever encountered 5 for
behind that repugnant exterior was one of the finest minds that
I have ever met Our exciting conversation lasted for several
Penthouse of the Gods
hours, and I left when I did leave only because I felt I had
no right to remain any longer.
That evening I dined at the bungalow. Every meal is a
mystery, but this evening I was served with a typical piece
of uncuttable yak meat. There can be nothing in the world
tougher than yak, when it comes to the eating of it. Even a
buzzard would be tender compared to it. Once I did have a
special treat, and a surprise the finest looking roast chicken
that I have ever seen on a plate. Alas, appearances are deceptive.
This chicken was older than the hills and tougher than a Good-
year casing. So I made a wry face, and philosophically turned
to the old stand-by, a bread-pudding, which I enjoyed. After
all, the boys had me at heart, and took a heap of trouble to
please me, and that was something. Life is easy-going here.
Laundry is sent out, and is returned with the handkerchiefs
nicely folded, and you are asked if they do not look well enough
without being ironed, and if you say nothing, nothing is done,
and you let it go at that. The same holds true of your other
clothing. Once you have learned to overlook such trifles, life
becomes a continuous picnic, but beware of having a desire for
something different. The important thing is to have other
interests, perpetually to keep busy. Then the burnt eggs one
gets for breakfast, and which make hardly more than a swallow,
do not seem to matter. As to that, the only palatable dish that
I can be sure of is oatmeal, which I brought with me. It is
served to me in the form of a paste, but I find that it goes down
with little effort if drunk down with a little yak milk, well
flavored with yak dung.
[90]
CHAPTER IV
TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
rwAS in Tibet that I played my first game of cricket. It
seemed odd to come to such a remote place to play the
national game of England. This game is the slimmest ex-
cuse that I have yet encountered for doing nothing when one is
supposed to be doing something. That is about all the game
amounts to. Outside the two fellows who bowl, every one else
stands around and waits for the game to be finished. If your
side is up to bat, there is absolutely nothing to do. As a game
for a week-end house party, it would be little short of perfect.
It would provide the excuse for coming, and act as a silent
theme song of activity. In this particular instance it enabled me
to be social without having to strain myself.
My dream of Lhasa was very much on my mind. After going
through my share of the motions of cricket I sent word to find
out how things were going. Together with the letters, gifts
had been sent to the officials of Lhasa and should have arrived
before we reached Gyantse. On our arrival at Gyantse Tharchin
and I wrote to a friend in Lhasa asking about it. The answer
came back to the effect that nothing had been received. After
several consultations with the Jongfen it was decided to send
a personal message. Then the question arose as to the gifts to
be sent with it. Not to send such gifts was about the worst breach
of etiquette that might be committed in Tibet We had to make
a proper choice for the various officials, then wire our order
Penthouse of the Gods
for the gifts to Calcutta. The plan was to send Tharchin on to
Lhasa with my application, while I return to India alone and
live in the hope all along the way that a wire would overtake
me, or that I could get an extension of time in Gyantse. With
Tharchin taking things in hand and journeying to deliver my
messages in person to the Regent and to the members of the
Kashag, I felt my chances were good. The Choktey Jong^en
himself helped us no little in composing these letters, taking a
few ideas and spreading them out in the "King's English of
Tibet." The letters were, in their own fashion, masterpieces}
ornate and calculated to win the hearts of Tibetans.
If luck should be with me, I would be the first white person
to be allowed to penetrate behind the mysterious walls of the
sanctuary of Lhasa. Others have seen the barren streets of
Lhasa, and taken excellent photographs of these and of the
buildings} I myself had seen the marvellous photographic
collection of the Political Mission} but what do they tell us
of the sacred mystery behind the walls which has maintained
the social structure together century after century? And because
of my intense desire to know something of this, and this pre-
cisely, I laid emphasis on the religious aspect of my studies.
Perhaps I should be permitted to go only to Shigatse, and that
would be just as revealing} but Lhasa being the Sacred City
carries with it the prestige.
Having arranged with Tharchin the details of his journey to
Lhasa, the Jong^en and his wife and I settled down to a stimu-
lating talk on religion. His wife was as intelligent a little woman
as one was likely ever to meet} not only was she well-read,
but she was as beautiful a woman as I had seen in these parts.
It was indeed a pleasure to watch her read the manuscripts
which they had on their shelves, to see her race over the lines
faster than I could go if they were in English. When I thought
how difficult it was for me, I could not help but feel envy. She
[9*1
Too Good to Be True
was thoroughly familiar with the teachings of Buddhism as
well as with Tibetan literature. You are forced to admire the
Tibetan who, in contrast to the Indian, makes his wife his con-
stant companion in everything he does. The Tibetan wife is
always with her husband, and if you get the notion into your
head for a little private conversation with him, you will run
into a snagj for she is always there. Not that you would have
her away, for you soon discover that she has many valuable
ideas and suggestions to offer. She has the perfect knack or
shall we say charm of giving the impression that her husband
is running everything, yet of accomplishing anything she wants
unobtrusively. This holds good in all circles, regardless of sta-
tion in life. In the case of the nomadic trader you find the wo-
man paddling along, doing just as much of the packing and
unpacking as the menj you also find her doing her share in the
fields, not merely something else, but actually the same task as
her male companion in toil. The same thing prevails on a higher
level in the upper strata.
Choktey Jongpen and his wife having discovered that my
favorite teacher was Guru Rimpoche, who was also theirs, the
bond between us was promptly sealed. He favored the old sect,
Kargyupa, rather than the present school of religious thought,
which is in the majority. It espouses all the esoteric teachings
of Buddhism as preached by Guru Rimpoche, known as Padma
Sambhava, the great Tibetan twtrik. Today it is almost im-
possible to find any of the old books revealing the teachings
of Guru Rimpoche, and those who know these teachings will
not reveal them to any one except of their faith. Once I demon-
strated my faith to their satisfaction, Choktey brought out
his set of seven volumes which embodies the fundamentals of
this sect, so rare nowadays, and began to narrate their con-
tents. Although it took him years of searching to find his set,
he promised to let me have it if I failed to find another during
[93]
Penthouse of the Gods
my Tibetan journey. Naturally I felt myself to be very for-
tunate to have the opportunity of procuring so rare a treasure,
never seen outside the chosen circles.
On the next day I was supposed to go hunting gazelle with
Captain Gordon Cable. Hunting, however, is forbidden to a Bud-
dhist. I could, nevertheless, go along for a ride, and try to get
some photographs of the animals. The day was perfect, and the
horses were in fine mettle.
From Gyantse we rode direct toward the hills bordering on
the polo field, then followed the extensive flats up to their edge
about six or seven miles beyond the field in which the troops
were preparing for tomorrow's game. It was a fine ride, but a
bit trying at times 5 it is no easy task, while travelling at a fast
canter over gopher-hole flats, across rocky river bottoms and
over deep ditches, to hold down a bouncing Leica camera from
the neck and field-glasses at your waist and telephoto lenses
shifting at a great rate} but once we settled these details all went
well and I had about as good a ride as though I were on a cow
pony dashing across the wide open prairies. I do not know how
the horses can stand it, but I do know that after you've ridden
at this pace for several hours you feel you've done a good day's
work.
The valley of dahlias which we traversed was something to
remember for its beauty. It reminded me of the sweltering hills
bordering on the desert of Phoenix, Arizona, or the Mojave
Desert of California. I had my traditional hunting experience:
the gazelles must have gone on one of their temporary migra-
tions. At all events, we did not encounter a single one* My com-
panion, however, insisted that such a thing now happened to
him for the first time. Never before had he failed to see one,
though he admitted it did not mean that he always got his prey.
[94]
Too Good to Be True
The countless herds of grazing sheep might have been the cause
of the failure of their appearance. I fully enjoyed my outing,
and secretly was even pleased at the absence of gazelles, for I
did not wish the embarrassment of having one killed.
On our return we rode in the canyon around the opposite side
of the hill which we had passed on the way up. This took us
over freshly plowed fields and new crops of wheat and through
small valleys solidly carpeted with iris, all in full bloom. Thus,
a perfect morning had been provided} and there was tomorrow
to look forward to with its game of polo, of which I had grown
inordinately fond.
At this time a piece of unanticipated good fortune came my
way. The Jong$en y on hearing of my efforts to obtain the seven-
volume set of the teaching of the Guru Rimpoche, came for-
ward and offered me his own set which he had procured with
difficulty some years before at Kham. He gave the books to me
after submitting me to considerable scrutiny in order to assure
himself that I was worthy of his trust and that I should use these
books to spread their teachings to all worthy of them in America
who should happen to desire them. Only with such a purpose in
view was he willing, and even eager, to part with the books. I
do not remember anything more touching than the manner in
which he brought me the gift of a famous thmgka y which had
been blessed by one of the head Lamas generations ago and
had remained in his family ever since. I had been told by others
even before it came into my hands that the possession of it
made success sure in the propagation of the teachings. It seemed
absurd to think that I could ever possess so revered an object.
Yet there I was, to my own surprise inspiring this almost fabu-
lous trust, and being offered this extraordinary gift, after the
fitting ceremony at his temple by the head Lama, this event
[95]
Penthouse of the Gods
appears to have coincided with another event, which they con-
sidered a particularly auspicious augury, inviting other cere-
monies. In any case, the full import of the gift and all the deep
meaning attached to it were conveyed to me through the proper
ceremony peculiar to the occasion. I fear I revealed greater
emotion than I should have done. Yet it was a strangely sol-
emn, strangely impressive situation j it overwhelmed me and
left me a prey to my feelings. The presentation was made in
my tiny shnne at the bungalow. Here the thwgka was hung
on the wall, and below it was placed a small butter lamp, which
was lighted by the light which had been glowing for years and
years in the Jongpen's own home. His head Lama also came,
and there in front of it the three of us sat in the customary
Buddha posture while the Lama recited the secret chant and
we remained in silence meditating on the symbolism which ex-
pressed their teachings. After this, the blessings of the sacred
painting were passed on to me.
It was impossible to go through this ceremony and then dis-
card it as merely another experience. After my visitors were
gone, I sat for hours before the thangka. It was not possible
to go to sleep with all the feeling that had been imbedded deep
in my heart by these fresh happenings.
That evening indeed was to be one of the memorable spir-
itual milestones on the way to the ultimate experience in the
solitary cell after my final initiation, and in that cell I was to
linger long over this particular episode culminating in a sleep-
less night filled with quiet ecstasy. The fates were surely pro-
pitious, and the realization of my dream of Lhasa seemed a step
nearer.
The assistant British Trade Agent, Rai Sahib Wangdi, and
I had a very friendly chat. He was a Tibetan who had learned
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Too Good to Be True
to speak perfect English and had been working for the British
Government a good many years. In the absence of Tharchin
he offered his services as an interpreter, as my knowledge of
the Tibetan tongue was not yet all that it should be. Before
taking his departure Wangdi told me that Rai Bahadur Ncrb-
hu Dhondup, Dzasa, British Trade Agent at Yatung, was ex-
pected to arrive on the coming Saturday and asked me if I
would take over the single rooms of the bungalow, as Norbhu
was travelling heavy with his outfit on the way to Lhasa and
would need to use the entire suite.
Regardless of what the day held for me I never began a day
without my regular assignment of meditation and study, in
consequence of which I found that I could handle my tasks
more readily when they came around. On this day even an in-
terpreter was unnecessary. I was able to explain everything
that came up, and I felt that I was making definite progress
with the language, which was getting into my system and be-
coming an integral: part of it.
My mornings of meditation led me to give some thought*
on its absence in our Western world. There is the case of the
successful business man who, on retirement, experiences a great
deal of unhappiness after shutting himself off from- that uni-
versal flow of life, which is the very thing that has brought him
his success. Naturally, it is his invariable plan that as soon as he
retires he will do as he pleases, only to discover that as soon as
he cuts off this flow of life it becomes an impossibility ever to
get it flowing again; he seems utterly unaware that it is that
which has given him his greatest joy in his work. On the other
hand, the Tibetan is taught the nature of this conscious flow of
life, so that he is able to awaken it and make it flow through
any channel he might choose j and if the particular channel of
his choice experiences a stoppage, he still has the alternative of
diverting the same flow to yet another channel. This knowl-
[97]
Penthouse of the Gods
edge has its obvious advantages for the individual in that it en-
ables him to carry on with perfect consciousness of what is tak-
ing place, thus putting him in a position to extract so much
more out of worldly activity and also to contribute more to
human endeavor with much less suffering. On retirement from
such a life, he is still able to continue his inner growth* In
other words, he is taught by this ancient method to see the
likely outcome of all external activities, and by this knowledge
to choose and direct. He approaches all life with understand-
ing, knows the sources of stimuli, and is able to penetrate be-
yond the fiction of worldly forms. Thus also he finds solace,
and adjustment to misfortune, pain, discomfort, and grief} for
there are precise laws which govern all of these phenomena.
On- the day of Rai Sahib Wangdi's visit there was a parade
at the fort, and I went around to get a few pictures as well as
discharge a social duty, Captain Cable having invited Jigme
and Mary. Jigme happened to be a Tibetan military leader,
though the Tibetans as a rule do not take the military profes-
sion seriously. It is true that little by little they are learning
something about it from their outside contacts. Jigme, of course,
had the advantage of a European training, rare enough among
Tibetans, who are a race of stay-at-homes. The late Dalai
Lama, however, sent four boys to England, and one of them,
after finishing preparatory school, stayed on for several years
for further study} he was at the time of my pilgrimage in
charge of the electric light plant of Lhasa. It is surprising how
proud they are of their electric city, as they call it. From what
I heard they had small electric irons and similar minor gadgets,
which held a peculiar fascination for them, as they did in our
ow country when electricity was first introduced.
""After the military parade, which took place under a clear
sky, providing ideal conditions for mine and Jigme's photo-
graphic efforts, we took part in the polo game} then accepted
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Too Good to Be True
our host's invitation to tiffin. The repast was only an interlude
between games. It is odd to reflect that strangers from the cor-
ners of the earth meeting in the heart of Tibet cannot keep the
conversation going, but must resort to games. This, too, was not
without its lesson.
Back in my bungalow, I gazed out of the window across
those vast plateaus and watched the dance of the late evening
shadows, and all inner restlessness was promptly settled. If I
could have been left alone with the Tibetans, all would have
been perfect. Although their imaginations do not extend be-
yond their own physical surroundings, they at least live their
limited existence to its fullest and are eager to talk about things
of interest concerning their teachings and literature. There is
but little doubt that theirs is the way of attaining a greater spir-
itual development at the end of life and in this life. The cir-
cumstances of my own existence at this moment, however, left
me no alternative but to yield to such activities as were in store
for me. Indeed, I was awaiting the arrival of Colonel *
on the morrow, and that my next five days would be very much
at his disposal. He would then return to India, while at the
same time Captain Cable would be going down to Yatung for
ten days. As for myself, my fate would surely be settled by
then, and I should either turn my footsteps toward Lhasa or
in the reverse direction to India. In the meantime there would
be more polo on Saturday and some races on Monday, and on
the morrow Tharchin should be arriving at Lhasa, and I should
soon know the best, or the worst My heart counselled patience.
Next morning, with the help of my boys, I moved over to
the other side of the bungalow, 'in preparation for the arrival
of Norbhu.
*I cannot now recall ib name.
[99]
Penthouse of the Gods
I spent a large part of the day in going over the ritual used
by the reformed Tibetan church (Gelupa). It should be re-
marked here that at the time of the introduction of Buddhism
into Tibet from India there were several strongholds of the
Christian faith on the Chinese border of Tibet. The Tibetans
had some contact with these, which accounts for all sorts of
survivals of Christian ritual in Tibet. In the year 1300, we
are told, there were several Catholic priests living in the Holy
City, and though they remained for some years they made
scarcely a convert during their entire stay. A great deal of
their ritual, however, was taken over and incorporated in the
Tibetan faith, with modifications, by the ruling caste of the
country. In the course of time, however, various disagreements
crept up, with the result that some of the ritual was dispensed
with, leaving only their external forms.
Some scholars of India assert that their ancient sages, aware
of the limitations of the human mind, had built up an elaborate
system of ritual for the benefit of the great masses which lack
the capacity for comprehension- The entire ritual of Hinduism
has been developed upon this. The original teachings, however,
which came from the Tantras have been lostj and today the
scholars call the prevailing practices degenerate and attribute
all the other undermining influences to be found in the religion
of India to this source. With the coming, however, to Tibet of
Padma Sambhava (whose reincarnation I am believed to be),
there developed this elaborate body of Catholic ritual which
makes up all the exoteric worship of the unref ormed churches,
the Kar-gyu-pa and Nying-ma-pa, along with much of that
which is to be found in the regular practice of the established
order. The happy mixture only helps to complicate matters.
The real problem is not so much to separate the components as
Too Good to Be True
to try to trace the resulting product to the ritual of Catholi-
cism, for how did it all arise, and how did it grow? It is true
that the Greeks had a well-developed system as had all the
other communal groups before the birth of Christianity. But
whence came it? What was its beginning? Was there a common
single source, or did it arise in several places simultaneously?
Once in being, what processes furthered its development? What
has been its purpose?
As for the ritualism of Hinduism, there are many written
records available to tell us of its historical development, the
Tantras providing the greatest encyclopedia of ancient wisdom
inscribed by the sages. There are volumes and volumes on ritual
alone, which answer some of our questions. Unfortunately, only
a small part of these writings have- been translated. For the
most part they have been lost in India. Records of their exist-
ence, however, have been made by the Indian pundits (Sanskrit
scholars). It is believed that they will eventually be discovered
in Tibet In the life of Padma Sambhava, which I have been
lately translating, it is recorded that he left eighteen volumes,
embracing all the Tmtras, for which I have also been search-
ing. If it is my good fortune to dig up these books, between
them I should be able to fill in many gaps in the picture. The
theory of life as taught by the Tantras is the reverse of our
evolutionary theory. It is, indeed, a devolutionary theory of
mankind, with some evidence in its favor. For the moment,
however, we must pass this over and keep our eyes on the de-
velopment of the ritual.
Above all, we should like to know how it came to pass that
all these complicated ritualistic systems should have devel-
oped throughout the world, more or less isolated from one an-
other. Beside this, the question of the beginnings of the major
religions is a relatively simple one. For one thing, it is inter-
esting to observe the many similarities to be found among such
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Penthouse of the Gods
peoples as our American Indians and the Tibetans. How has it
happened that there exists a tribe called the Hemis Indians in
the United States and that at the same time there is the great
Hemis monastery in Tibet? Both have their devil dances. In
Tibet there is the Garuda bird, while the Indians have their
thunder bird, which is its equivalent. Indeed, such similarities
between the tribes o the world as well as differences, of course
are infinite j but if I mention the American Indian it is be-
cause he is so remote from Tibet,
It is taught by the Tantras that life first began around the
JNforth Pole, and not in Egypt, as is the theory of Elliott Smith.
All "their earliest lore expresses the notion that humanity in
those days consisted of supermen; but ultimately the process
of disintegration set in, and the continuing story is very much
like that of Adam and Eve. Climatic changes followed, human-
ity broke up into small bands, migrating southward. Those
who wrote down the T&ntras for the benefit of men to come
had settled in India, while others fled to various parts of the
world; nevertheless, the great stronghold remained here.
It is pertinent to note that the myths of so many races indi-
cate their origin as in some place in the North. One thing seems
clear: all the ritual of the Western world has been influenced
by the Tcmtras. And, if this is true, it makes little difference
whether the Tibetans borrowed it from Hinduism or Chris-
tianity} we do know that in either instance it had been devised
for the same purpose as it was borrowed. I am putting this
down as a matter of record, as something that has come up in
the course of my studies and throws some light at the issues
discussed. I did not come to Tibet to prove anything or to
teach any one anything, but only to learn. It was clear, how-
ever, that I must accept the Tibetan teachings with a free and
open mind and not have formed any preconceptions at this mo-
ment, allowing any judgment to come only after maqy, many
[ 102]
Too Good to Be True
years of concentrated study on such manuscripts as are avail-
able to me, which might enable me to see into some of the
problems here suggested. It seems to me that nothing is so diffi-
cult in life as the beginning: the search for the problem. Once
the problem has been established and well formulated, it is
relatively easy to examine and tabulate the records. My chief
effort at this time was to organize the available literature.
While sitting in the cave of solitary confinement and review-
ing the details of the great experience I found no small diffi-
culty in trying to separate those early experiences from the
names and forms of Tibetan culture and to recall to mind the
various reflections that came with them, and at the same time
to recapture the original attitude and mood forever gone be-
cause of the various initiations that I had been able to pass
through. *
The mind's inherent potentiality is activity, which is no re-
specter of forms but will attach itself to any available external
manifestation, and if this be lacking it will turn upon itself, and
consciously learn to know itself in the universal energy of life.
It is in this that is to be found the purpose underlying the teach-
ings of "mindlessness" in Buddhism, for which Yoga is the
tool. The reason for my being in the isolated cave was that I
might be sure of all the external names and forms, and, once
they could be eliminated, the mind might be enabled to turn
upon itself. Yet it was precisely at this point that I found my
greatest difficulty in maintaining the thread of my external
experiences, as the more of them I removed by bringing them
before my mind's consciousness the easier I made the task of
the subconscious to break through and express itself. What the
mind accomplishes is of little consequence} what is important is
[ 103 ]
Penthouse of the Gods
that the inner self should experience an accession of power, that
universal energy called Chit, which is the life source of the in-
dividual, fit is felt that we have laid stress on the consequence
of life and made it our goal, instead* of putting our emphasis on
life itself, that is why we suffer if we fail to attain the desired
end. If we could reverse the direction of our efforts, all such
consequences would be ours without the asking. According to
Tibetan teachings, the direction of life in the Western world
is all wrong, this explains why we look upon all our effort as
a confused, chaotic mass of an infinite variety of irreconcilable
forms*
The message which I had been anxiously awaiting camej it
told of Tharchm's arrival in Lhasa. And now I even more ar-
dently awaited another telegraphic message, telling me that I
had an invitation to visit the Sacred City, Knowing how slowly
things were done, I did not expect any kind of a message for
at least a week. Only one thing might make them act quickly,
and this was the announcement of the discovery of the new
Dalai Lama, and since I could hardly fill that role, I had no al-
ternative but to exercise patience.
The same day I received a message from Spencer Chapman,
telling me of his successful ascent of Chumolhari, a beautiful
peak of which I have already spoken in this narrative. This
meant that he had climbed the highest peak yet reached by
man, a feat which required courage and endurance, to be re-
membered thereafter and to serve as an inspiration to others
who will follow after him. I could not help feeling a personal
interest and pleasure, for I had lent a modest hand in his final
arrangements. Now he was off to London after a very success-
ful year's stay in India, having accomplished this ascent as well
as having spent six months in Lhasa as private secretary to Mr.
[ 104]
Too Good to Be True
Gould and as official photographer to the English Mission.
A man to envy.
All that morning and late that night mules went on arriv-
ing, bringing the personal effects of Norbhu, who would be
with us tomorrow, en route to Lhasa to relieve Mr. Richard-
son, who would return to Gantok via Shigatse. From here on,
into Lhasa, there are no accommodations, so one must provide
one's own. The advance transport consists mainly of tents, and
a vast amount of other travelling paraphernalia. A caravan,
such as the high officials and wealthy landlords of Tibet take
when they make a move, presents a sight of great interest. It is
almost a small city in itself. In keeping with the custom of the
country, there will be multitudes to meet Norbhu on the mor-
row at the fourth mile. It is the practice to meet the incoming
traveller, so the welcomers might accompany him on the final
lap of his journeyj likewise, when he takes his departure a
farewell party accompanies him for some miles. When one has
travelled for days over the dark plains, one can understand
the meaning of this revelation of esteem. The traveller being
a native Tibetan elevated to his position by the foreign British
political office, his own countrymen conceive an admiration for
him j in consequence of which he is honored by both sides wher-
ever he goes. This, of course, is what the English want, and
explains why he has been chosen for the job. He has risen to
his rank because of his great capacity and many qualifications,
to say nothing of his vital personality.
My evident anxiety to go to Lhasa prompted Captain Cable
to have some fun with me, and he was forever at his leg-pull-
ing. Thus, in an apparently earnest manner he mentioned the
man from America who was looking for a lyoo-year-old Yogi
near Gyantse, and asked me if I had ever met this mysterious
sage who made herculean but fruitless efforts to enter the for-
bidden land. Then, to rub it in, he spoke of a Swede who had
[105]
Penthouse of the Gods
similar ambitions and made a successful crossing of the border,
only to be rounded up and returned to India. And these were
by no means isolated cases. Therefore, it seemed all the more
astonishing that here was I "carrying on," with every one lend-
ing a helping hand. And now if fate should deal me the win-
ning card and send me to Lhasa, it would merely emphasize
the mystery of why the bars have been so unaccountably let
down in my case, and it would instil deeper than ever before
into my heart the already growing desire to gain a real under-
standing of the Tibetan teachings, so that others who have
striven or are still striving to reach this forbidden corner might
learn through me all that which they are seeking to know. An
immodest ambition on my part? Perhaps. Yet, considering the
matter realistically, they have nothing to lose and something
to gain} for if those who have come and, after catching a
glimpse of the streets, were promptly despatched under escort
to India, with no prospect of return, might I not compensate
them a little by reporting what I have seen?
Yet, for all my good fortune so far, I was not without mis-
givings, and hoped with all my heart that if I were denied
Lhasa I might at least be permitted to remain a while here in
Gyantse and continue my studies. The opportunity for this
seemed auspicious, as the Europeans were leaving and I should
have no alternative but to devote my entire time to work.
8
Once the Colonel and his wife and Captain Cable arrived,
the day was spent at cricket and eating. At four we had a large
tea party and we wound up the day with a fine dinner at the
officers' mess. The party was given in celebration of Norbhu's
arrival, for which Jigme and Mary had come into town at dawn
in their lovely silk brocades. To see Jigme with his graceful
figure attired in silks would drive any society woman wild with
[106]
Too Good to Be True
cnvyj and if the silks weren't enough, his long hair was done
up with the official crown of turquoise, set off with a red ribbon
skilfully woven into the long braids; this is an added touch
hard to surpass. It must be confessed that a personality has
something to do with the appearance of distinction} Jigme has
all the polish and finesse of a salon favorite. You wonder how
he could have achieved it in this part of the world, but my
experience so far has been that all the refinement of traditional
culture to be found among this class of Tibetans has had its
roots in China, The Colonel proved a stimulating figure in
the interesting and enlightening conversation.
For the Colonel's further entertainment a series of races was
planned for the following day; sweepstake tickets were put on
sale, with 50 rupees as the first prize, and a saddle as the sec-
ond. We hit upon the brilliant idea of playing roulette, and
we used the money to buy tickets, with the first three winners
dividing up the tickets on the agreed ratio. We got an enter-
taining evening out of this, and it kept us up until one. Now
and then the incongruity of it struck me I mean the idea of a
pilgrim like myself indulging in such ultra-Western pastimes j
yet who knows, may there not be something in detaching one
self from the other, and have one examine the other with that
penetration which comes at such odd moments?
There was life to see, social duties to accomplish; I thought
the following day would never come to an end. In any case,
I managed my routine schedule up to nine o'clock, when it
was time to leave for the big event. The whole countryside
turned out for the occasion. Indeed, I scarcely recognized the
place; the entire parade ground had been converted into an
extensive race course with large tents and a grandstand, under
which were easy chairs for honored guests; there were flower-
ing potted plants, and a carpet under your feet, which made you
feel as if you were the guest of some powerful potentate or
[ 107]
Penthouse of the Gods
sheik. The grandstand bordered on another large enclosure,
which held the ticket office} it was doing a rushing business all
day. The track itself had been with miraculous expedition fenced
off, and there were several corrals for the animals: dogs, regi-
mental ponies, country ponies, amblers, mules, and yaks, all of
them participating in the various races, each race according to
its own class, r
The first heat of the day was a first-class dog race of Tibetan
mongrels. Their owners were even more interesting than the
dogs, for they were the raggedest bunch of urchins that I have
e^ver seen come together in the hope of winning something. The
fact is, the winning boy proved to be the littlest, filthiest, and
uncomeliest youngster of all. His dog won both races, and, as
a result, he got a nice handful of rupees, probably more money
than he had seen since the previous year, when his mongrel
won a similar race. The excitement caused by this race was al-
most incredible} and even such high personages as the Raja
Tering, Norbhu, Mary, and Jigme, the Colonel and his wife,
Siddique (head of the Commissary department), were all fer-
vent bettors. The odd part of it is, none of them would disclose
to the other on which animal he or she placed bets. Anyhow,
the fun indulged in by all in this remote spot at 13,000 feet
altitude was scarcely different from the fun to be had at our
Western races, and the animals fought just as hard for place
as they do with us at sea-level. It is astounding how much
excitement can be worked up for a little play, and the Tibetan
hardly needs any excuse to drop everything and go forth to
have some fun out of doors } and he loves his out-of-doors
mightily.
The dog race was more exciting for what you heard than
for what you saw. Owing to the wind from which this country
is rarely free, all you saw was an onrushing cloud of dust, and
out of this cloud of dust you heard an ungodly yelping, ever
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Too Good to Be True
approaching nearer. The dust pervades everything, you eat dirt
all day long, until your lips are parched, tongue thick, and
lungs outraged. The Tibetan seems to be accustomed to this,
and accepts it as a matter of course.
Once the regimental horse race was over, the real fun begans
for it was never possible to tell what would happen m the races
of the remaining motley assortment of animals. I placed a bet
on one of the mules. He took off down the track, as though it
was a sure thing, but just as he was about to make the last curve
he decided that it would be more fun to go straight on ahead,
and by the time he was convinced that this was a mistake he was
hopelessly far behind. And so the race went on, until the last
beast had crossed the finish line. It was very entertaining to
watch those who had entries beating their animals in the effort
to make them do something anything it mattered not what.
Nothing on earth is more stubborn than a mule, and these were
superb examples of the beast with a will to balk.
Another entertaining event was the yak race. Half-way one
yak had the race all to himself, so far ahead was he of the rest j
then, for no accountable reason, his yak intelligence decided
that walking was easier, and far more restful. Thus, with its
ups and downs, the race went on. I went up to the finish line
to make a few shots with my camera at the end, and just as I
changed my position to take close-ups of the winner I was
forced quickly to swerve, for the yaks were unceremoniously
making a stampede for me. The race ended in confusion.
Some of the sidelights were as interesting as the races them-
selves. All along the wall, behind the pens, were large mobs
of people in a state of almost continual excitement. On investi-
gating it, I discovered that Tibetan gamblers had brought their
games to the gathering} between events the onlookers tried
their luck. The chief game is one with dice. Behind it sits a
man with a large outspread cloth covered with various designs,
[ 109]
Penthouse of the Gods
resembling somewhat those used on our cards. The dice are the
same as our dice. They are placed in a small box which is
shaken, after which they are flung out on to the cloth, and if
your choice is exactly as the dice turn out to be, you wins other-
wise, the house takes all. As often as not a member of the mob
puts his last coin on the game, with the enthusiasm of a small
child. Such gambling is the common pastime of the petty trad-
ers and beggars.
By the time every one was so exhausted that he or she could
not look even friendly, let alone speak a kind word to any one,
the big event of the day came on, and since we had stayed up
half the night before in order to win tickets, the big drawing
was held, and if you had the number you got the horse cor-
responding to it. The horses were lined up, and made the start.
Everything looked hopeful for the first few hundred yards,
but the leaders began to wrangle, while the horses which had
failed to start suddenly made a wild dash for it, throwing
everything into confusion. At the next curve matters were more
or less straightened, and all horses were in order, except the
few which were running about in circles and raising the dust,
whole clouds of dust. A single horse emerged out of the dust
cloud, to take the first prize, until some one discovered the fact
that he had made but a single lap, which caused a great hulla-
baloo j for there was a prize of 50 rupees at stake. Two servants
of Raja Tering, who had chipped in 4 annas each to purchase
a single ticket, won the racej and well that it was so. Nothing
could have been more embarrassing than to have one of us win,
seeing that we held half of the tickets.
Then came the final events, the drawing of the saddle, for
which we had also bought no end of tickets. As it happened,
Captain Cable won. Not that the fellow could help it He had
only five tickets on the saddle out of the several hundreds that
were sold. Each time he drew his luck held, and in all fairness
[no]
Too Good to Be True
he had to take it. This climaxed one of the dustiest days I ever
hope to survive.
The day came to an end with tiffin at the officers' mess, after
which we took the usual round of photographs. The Terings
had a long drive to their place, and Norbhu was scheduled to
leave the following morning for Shigatsej so the party broke
up rather abruptly.
This was by no means the end of the social activities. The
following morning held a polo game for me, after which I
went to the Terings' to join in a Tibetan dinner. Reluctant as I
was to give up another precious day, there was no way out of
the situation. On the other hand, I had a fairly reassuring talk
with Mary and Jigme, who were doing all in their power to
procure for me the much-desired invitation to Lhasa. Mary
told me that her sister, Mrs. Tsarong, whom I had met at
Kalimpong during the winter, was actively interested in my
plans and was doing everything to help me, putting in a good
word for me on every possible occasion where it might do some
good. The Terings had a great feeling of friendship for every-
thing American, and as they were among the most powerful
families in all Tibet, Mary thought my chances of going to
Lhasa were exceedingly good. Mary herself had written to one
of her relatives, an influential Government official, urging that
permission be given me. Yet it is all a slow process of the great-
est uncertainty, and, for all the assurances, I realized the folly
of taking things for granted.
The tinkling of the bells of toil that hang on the necks o all
the pack animals of Tibet reminded me that it was time for
Norbhu to start for Shigatses so I hustled to bid him farewell.
Preoccupied as I was with my heart's desire, I found myself
wishing that he were at that moment at Lhasa pleading my
Penthouse of the Gods
case for mej for he was a good friend and a word from him
would have gone a long way. Just now you would have thought
that he was going to a fancy-dress ball, for he was dad in a
new costume of the finest silk brocade. The incongruity of it
was that he had thirty miles of the dustiest trail in the world
ahead of him. And there would be the further contrast of the
hosts of petty traders and beggars in rags from the seven fron-
tiers of Tibet he would encounter en route. To seek a contrast
further afield, just place beside Norbhu's costume one of our
own dinner jackets with its unalterably monotonous pattern of
black and white, the product of a shamefully limited imagina-
tion. Let us not waste our time, however, on futile reflections.
There are important things ahead.
Tharchin had now been in Lhasa for several days, and as yet
there was no news from him. I was not one to sit still with
folded hands while my fate was being settled, and so I wired
him to find out how things were developing. When the an-
swering wire arrived, it was full of hope, but not an iota of
precise evidence on which to build up my faith. They were all
like that. "You're going to be invited" was the customary re-
sponse} but of any material indicationnone. Thus I continued
in suspense, hatching momentary schemes for stirring things up
in this matter of Lhasa.
Then a telegram came. I shall never forget it as long as I
live. It was from the King Regent of Tibet. Here it is:
BERNARD OF AMERICA, GYANTSE. RECEIVED YOUR LETTER.
HOPE YOU RECEIVED WIRE FROM KASHAG THAT YOUR
MUCH RELIGIONSHIP MAY VISIT LHASA AS YOUR DESIRE.
WIRE IF YOU NEED DWELLING HERE.
(SIGNED) REGENT.
Too Good to Be True
10
It seemed too good to be true. Now that the permission I had
been so ardently seeking had come, now that I had gained my
heart's desire, I experienced the temporary mood, a reaction
perhaps of the long suspense under which I had been living,
that it made little or no difference whether I went or not. 'This
was quickly followed by a mood of exhilaration, of the presci-
ence of the thrill of realization yet to come. There had come to
me the knowledge that what had been a dream was on the
verge of being translated into reality. This knowledge ener-
gized me, set me feverishly to work to make the final prepara-
tions for the final lap of my journey. Little did I realize that,
in a sense, my real work would begin only upon my arrival in
the Sacred City.
It is a human trait to feel unbounded satisfaction in achieving
something which others, in spite of tremendous effort, have
not been able to achieve. So many interested in Tibetan Bud-
dhism had tried for years, to no avail, to make a religious pil-
grimage to the Sacred City, the Mecca of all Meccas. It seemed
incomprehensible even to myself why I of all persons should
have been so richly favored. Certainly, my reception by the re-
ligious orders gave me the confident feeling that I would be
granted the opportunity to enter every shrine in Lhasa as well
as have the tutorship of all their learned ones. To look at this
from the other side of the world, it would seem as a victory
over insurmountable obstacles. When one is so close to it, it
seems commonplace until you learn of the impossibility of get-
ting there. Indeed, it had all to be done under cover, so to
speak} for if it had even gotten out that I was trying to get
there, there would have been short shrift for mej such news
had to leak out slowly, and only in the right places. The great-
est thrill of all this had been the task of trying to bring it about,
[113]
Penthouse of the Gods
Actually, the idea had never entered my mind until I finally
settled at Kalimpong in order to study the language j and in
order to gain what I had gained, it was essential to learn not
only the language, but the religion, as well as the manners and
customs of a people. With it all, came the inevitable knowledge
of their psychology, the attitude to be assumed towards them,
the art of dealing with them and being friendly with them.
This was no time, however, for a complacent resting on one's
oars. There were so many things to be done preliminary to the
journey: photographic equipment to be attended to, arrange-
ments to be made for provisions, a rush order to be sent to Cal-
cutta for gifts which I should have to present on my arrival at
Lhasa. Not having any too much faith, I had brought with me
only what was absolutely essential. I had heard of too many
disappointments to drag along with me a superfluity of chattels.
Perhaps I had too much pride to run the risk of seeming fool-
ish. Had I failed it would have been too much like the ele-
phant walking up the hill and down again.
I set to work to review everything I had already done, I
had a fairly complete library of externals which I had read
and which I now re-read, in order to formulate for myself the
problems which would help to reveal the source of the life of
Tibet. The purpose was to penetrate to the bottom of its reli-
gious teaching, for therein lies the secret of the driving power
in the past and the waning framework of today. Why has it
been able to survive these hundreds of years? What is the cause
of its breakdown? No race of men in the whole world remains
as untouched as the race of Tibetans. Why is this the case?
Why, indeed, with four world potentates trying their best to
conquer them? On the other hand, a breakdown is surely com-
ing. Through what avenues will it proceed, and why must it
come? Is the entire past to be discarded, or will something be
salvaged? What is it that has made these people collect the
Too Good to Be True
writings of the ancients and worship them as sacred truth in
spite of almost complete ignorance of their meanings? How
much of it all is truth, and how much the usual empty ritualistic
forms which are to be found throughout the world?
It was important to find the answers to all these questions.
It was essential to peer beyond, in order to sound bottom. As
it is with the hidden mineral rock of the world, one does not
see the precious metal, but for one provided with knowledge
it is possible to predict 999 times out of a 1000 what minerals
will be found there. So it is with the hidden elements of life.
One begins learning to understand a character, then one exam-
ines the facts in the light of this knowledge, after which it be-
comes fairly predictable what is in store for this or that per-
son, even though the persons themselves are unaware of their
own futures, and are equally lacking in a comprehension of the
probable outcome of the events we and the world are constantly
experiencing.
Looking forward to the journey, it came upon me, and by
no means unpleasantly, that I should have 1 to make it wholly
on my own, with no companion who could speak English. That,
I thought, should be an excellent thing, as it would make me
feel really at one with the country and with the mood of my
adventure.
ii
I also used the interval of waiting in taking stock of myself,
of my advantages and limitations, weighed in the light of my
own experience.
At various times in my past I had been taken to task for neg-
lecting so many things in Western culture. Why should I have
neglected these in favor of almost incomprehensible volumes
on an esoteric culture? And, indeed, at times I had been made
to feel in the wrong, and again and again I wavered, forced as
Penthouse of the Gods
I was to wonder to what end it could all be leading. And now,
as I was being swept up toward the crest of my adventure, it
dawned upon me perhaps for the first time with astonishing
clairvoyance that this was what I had been preparing for my
entire life, and that some inner urge had been driving me and
directing me toward some mysterious yet definite goal, from
which I could not deviate without violating my best inner self,
at any rate, that self, which was in every sense /, the whole 7,
liberated however from all petty personal preoccupations- To
be sure, for fifteen years I had been building up the conscious-
ness for the absorption of all that was about to be offered me. I
saw that it took more than a mere grasp of all factual material
to understand the meaning of the highly complicated system of
ritual. The essential truth was in itself simple enough. This
could be grasped only by means of the feeling.
What seems wrong with the world today is that human be-
ings have emphasized the development of the mind and that
so-called "brilliancy" has been accorded the highest place, the
one thing to gain the rewards of society. Unhappily, our own
country furnishes a classic example of this. The conversation of
almost any group is about what this brilliant mind has or has
not got. On a first acquaintance with any one, even with a small
child, the first comment is, "What a brilliant mind!" But one
never stops to consider: What sort of imagination does he have?
What capacity does he have for feeling? Does he possess a rich
consciousness? Does he have an understanding which comes
from contact with the flow of life rather than an understanding
from a familiarity with the external facts of life? Does he grasp
the significance of one and the other? Our school system singu-
larly neglects the problem of the development of the imagina-
tion; it makes no designed effort to awaken the poet, the mu-
sician, the philosopher. No, it is concerned with teaching one the
technical laws of versification, of music, of philosophy, and of
[116]
Too Good to Be True
the history of these things j then condemns the individual for
taking no spontaneous interest in the arts it has taught him.
Technique is taught, but not the secret of tapping the flow for
which technique should merely serve as the esaft for making
the molds to receive it. This is where Yoga comes inJ^sr^Toga
provides a control over this fountain of life, and gives the jn^
dividual a chance to use it constantly and at will. Ix**"^
12
There was excitement in the air, and wires flew back and
forth between Gyantse and Lhasa as fast as the line would per-
mit. Arrangements were being made for a place for me to stay
during my visit. At the same fame Mr. Richardson was getting
an extension of time on my Tibetan pass. One by one, every-
thing was being taken care of. Here in Gyants6 things were
being rushed to get my transport together, so that everything
could leave on scheduled time. The bungalow was in a state of
confusion, with endless boxes stacked about the place, while
we separated the things we had to take from those which we
were to leave behind, to be picked up on our return. At times
I could hardly believe that I was actually making prepara-
tions for a journey to Lhasa. Indeed, I constantly lived in fear
of something arising to prevent it.
To one thing I had made up my mind. I should endeavor
to cling to my chosen subject, that of the monasteries of Tibet,
which had never been dealt with to any extent by other ex-
plorers. Considering the opportunities I should have of visit-
ing all the sacred shrines, I felt it to be my duty to give de-
tails to the outside world which held an interest in this aspect of
things. Originally, while still at Kalimpong, I had intended to
collect what material I could about the monasteries I had al-
ready seen, and to crown the record with the monastic gem at
Gyantse. Now, however, with Lhasa within sight, the horizon
1 [117]
Penthouse of the Gods
widened, and it was all the more incumbent upon me to carry
on. Yet, I realized, too, the length of my stay at Lhasa was
still an uncertainty, and I might be forced to crowd the work
o years into the brief period of a few weeks.
Returned travellers tell us little of the treasured faith which
keeps the Tibetan race in poverty while they erect a tomb of
solid gold, covered with precious stones, for the late Dalai
Lama. You will not meet a Tibetan from Lhasa who does not
go into ecstasies about this famous treasure. What is it that has
inspired the imagination to design such a building as the great
palace? Waddell, indeed, speaks of the "unartistic Tibetan,"
then goes on for pages to provide a detailed account of the
beauty of this divine structure.
The bulk of the literature attendant on the Younghusband
expedition into Lhasa was written from the military point of
view. The English, as respecters of the rights of others, made
no attempt to intrude in any way upon the religious predilec-
tions of the Tibetans. They presented the terms of their mission,
which was to negotiate a peaceful treaty establishing trade re-
lations j in no sense did they wish to influence their religious
thought or custom. At all times they stuck strictly to business.
It is true, they did make a record of the external facts of the
forms of the Tibetan religion. It was very much as if a Tibetan
had come to America and visited St. John's the Divine and
one or two of our other great cathedrals, then returned to his
native land and offered detailed descriptions of the buildings
and of the people as they came to worship in the morning, the
choir, the prayers, and the sermons, without telling what the
prayers and the sermons were about. Again, the record the Eng-
lish made, while offering brief descriptions of the physical stat-
ure of the people, and of their attire, say little or nothing of
the function of the individual, nothing of the inner soul of the
Tibetan.
Too Good to Be True
Here I saw a country wholly isolated from the rest of the
world; its aim has been to keep out all the effects of the spin-
ning Western civilization; and the only records available to the
Western world comprised descriptions of external forms. And
at once I realized my rare opportunity, all the more as I had
now the promise of becoming the guest of one of the most pow-
erful and wealthy individuals of Tibet, and he one who had risen
to his exalted and influential position from the lowest strata of
society. Now, what is the avenue by which an individual may
ascend from rags to silks? How does the society function in
which this can happen? How does the individual function?
What is the relation of the rest of society towards the individual
who has made such a material and spiritual victory? Is he
a solitary example, or do other bundles of rags bear the poten-
tiality and the choice of rising to silks? If these questions are
answered, other questions will be answered with them, directly
or by implication. It had been my desire, and now it had become
my intention, of learning to look at life through the eyes and
consciousness of a Tibetan.
These thoughts were rudely interrupted by a hammering, a
sawing by the mystery (the Indian name for carpenter) who
had come to make the necessary boxes for the extra things it was
necessary to take along on my journey.
13
About nine-thirty I heard the tinkling of bells, the usual pre-
lude to the arrival of the animals of some traveller. Upon in-
vestigation by one of my boys, it turned out to be Mary and
Jigme, who, on their way to Shigatse, were stopping to say
good-bye to me.
Over tea we talked with joyous fervor of my good fortune.
Plans were made for a celebration on my return, when I would
meet them either at Kalimpong or Calcutta; for in July they
[119]
Penthouse of the Gods
would be making pilgrimage to India. They seemed even more
happy than I over my coming journey; and, indeed, Mary and
her sister had played considerable roles in my obtaining the in-
vitation. They gave me some parting directions, and told of
sights not to miss on the way, all the more as this was the most
beautiful time of the year for a journey to Lhasa.
I have already spoken of Norbhu's manner of travelling,
which made me think of a fancy dress ball. And now I had an-
other opportunity of seeing how a high Tibetan travels. Along
with his regular official headdress of turquoise mounted on a
conical hat draped with red tassels hanging down from the point,
dropping around the edge, he wore a beautiful silk brocade
gown with its brilliant yellow waistcoat of the same material.
He gave the appearance of being scarcely two minutes from a
tailor's shop, and here he had come seven miles and had yet
another thirty ahead of. him. Mary likewise was adorned in all
her jewels.
Scarcely had Mary and Jigme taken their departure, when
the telegraph boy came bringing a message from the Kashag.
I reproduce it here, without comment:
BERNARD OF AMERICA, GYANTSE: RECEIVED YOUR LETTER
WHICH WE SENT UP TO THE REGENT PRIME MINISTER
STOP AS YOU PROBABLY KNOW TIBET BEING A PURELY
RELIGIOUS COUNTRY THERE IS A GREAT RESTRICTION ON
FOREIGNERS ENTERING THE COUNTRY BUT UNDERSTAND-
ING THAT YOU HAVE A GREAT RESPECT FOR OUR RELIGION
AND HAVE HOPES OF SPREADING THE RELIGION IN AMERICA
ON YOUR RETURN, WE HAVE DECIDED AS A SPECIAL CASE
TO ALLOW YOU TO COME TO LHASA BY THE MAIN ROAD FOR
A THREE WEEKS VISIT. / \
(SIGNED) KASHAG.
At the same time a message came from the political officer,
giving me a six-weeks' extension of my pass from the date of
[ 120 ]
Too Good to Be True
its termination} this meant that I need not leave Tibet until
August. I already began to wonder what would happen by then.
Anything was possible, I was beginning to believe.
Though the Regent rules over everything through the ad-
ministration of his cabinet known as the Kashag> whose signa-
ture to the telegram should have been good enough to secure
me in all respects, I had still a number of minor difficulties to
overcome. Petty officialdom is perhaps the same the world over,
and here I had my Jong$ens to deal with. A Jong$en, I must
explain, is the head of a district corresponding to one of our
states. Each district has its own Jong^en y who rules over a Jong
a, fort, which serves as the county seat. Actually, the whole
thing is more or less the old feudal system under the guidance
of Heaven, the system which we left behind in the Middle
Ages. Now in order to make a move it is necessary to procure a
passport from the Jong$en in charge} otherwise the head men
of the villages en route will not render the traveller any as-
sistance. Gyantse was in one district, Lhasa was in another.
The fact is, the prevailing red tape associated with officialdom
gave rise to a series of irritations, all the more irksome because
it involved delays, and I was anxious to set off. I saw the pros-
pect of good days slipping away. Worse luck, transport in Tibet
might be secured only on two days' notice; and, indeed, I am
ashamed to admit that as a last resort I was forced to utilize the
power of the almighty rupee, and happy to say that it worked.
On returning to the bungalow, I presently had a call from
Siddique, the Mohammedan in charge of the Commissary de-
partment at the British fort. Little did I dream of coming to
Tibet for instruction in the teachings of Mohammed, but such
turned out to be the case. Siddique and I spent the next three
Penthouse of the Gods
hours in a heated discussion of the principles of Mohammedan-
ism, comparing its teachings with those taught by the other
great religious leaders of the world. Oddly enough, we reached
perfect agreement, with the sole difference that he will remain
a Mohammedan and I shall go on to Lhasa, and not to Mecca.
There is, indeed, no question about all religious teaching head-
ing for the same goal, with a different teacher for each group
and every leader working on the same principle of human na-
ture, the principle that the only way to develop the spirit is by
first gaining control over the mindji this is to be achieved by
means of concentration. For this purpose endless ritual has been
devised in order to help the ignorant masses who lack the will
power to do it otherwise. But for those of greater capacity, all
such inventions are as unnecessary as is the Chinese adding ma-
chine when we have the more efficient modern ones. For this
reason there is but little need of going into the pros and cons
of this time-old discussion. We might as well at the start accept
the fact that all the religions are headed in the same direction,
and that they have an important role to play in the life of the
individual. In many instances we may be able to modify old
forms or substitute new ones, but never can we get away from
the fundamental principles, or smother the spiritual aspiration
that burns in the heart of every man and gives the basis for the
existence of every religion on earth.
For the time being there was the morrow to look forward to,
the morrow, when I should start for the City of the Gods,
averaging about thirty-two miles a day, and by no means easy
miles, for I had yet to cross the Khambu La, ranging almost 1 7,-
ooo feet, and nearly always covered with ice, so that regardless
of what time of year one moves in this part of the world it is
certain that he will encounter snow. Restless and impatient as I
am by nature, matters always move too slowly for me, and there
is a decided disadvantage in the Tibetan slowness when not able
[ 122]
Too Good to Be True
to cuss in the language which I must henceforth use. If I had
to live this adventure over again, I should certainly learn this
aspect of things before I undertook to study the legitimate liter-
ature of the country.
[ 123 ]
CHAPTER V
FROM GYANTSE TO LHASA
f '^HE day of days is here. I can scarcely believe it. There
I must be a mistake that this privilege is being offered to
-* me . If one could read my heart, this feeling of incredu-
lousness would be easy to understand.
The day started bright and sleepy about three-thirty. The
reason for this early rising was that I anticipated trouble with
getting the transport started, and I knew that I could do some-
thing to urge matters along. As a result of my strenuous efforts,
the entire transport was off by seven, and with it on the way I
could sit down to enjoy my bowl of oatmeal, until it was time
to be off to the telegraph office to despatch some cables and
wires. I had the little fellow in charge on the jump.
At nine-thirty I was off to find the road to Lhasa across fields
of wheat and up large gulches, until I had the feeling that I was
on the wrong track} whereupon we retraced our footsteps and
took another direction. We found our trail. It gets mighty thin
at times, so that one has to look sharply. The problem is to find
again and again the telegraph line, and follow in its direction*
Regardless of where the road is, as long as it does not go up
over some inaccessible cliff it will be possible for us to find our
way.
The road is exactly like any barren strip across the mining
section of Arizona and New Mexico, canyons of rock and soil
rising up sharply on either side of you for several hundred
feet, with a small river rushing through at the bottom. The only
From Gyantse to Lhasa
difference is that such places in the West provide no water,
while here there is water everywhere because of the perpetual
snows that feed these streams.
It gave me an unaccountable sensation and thrill to be heading
towards Lhasa in the company of a chap who could speak noth-
ing but Tibetan, and I was feeling highly pleased with myself
because in so short a time I had mastered it sufficiently to be
able to make a real use of it.
In any event, I was appreciative of my good fortune, as men-
tally I made a note of my predecessors. Since the time of Man-
ning in 1 8 1 1, the only persons who reached the Mecca of
Buddhism were Kawoguchi, a Nipponese j Sarat Chandra Das,
an Indian; Madame David-Neale, a Frenchwoman, and Wm.
McGovernj and every one of these had had to steal his or her
way in one disguise or another. The only person ever to receive
an invitation to visit Lhasa was Mr. Cutting. Other persons to
enter the Holy City were Europeans connected with the British
Mission; but these entered by force of arms. And, of course, go-
ing farther back into history, there were the Catholic priests,
the first being Friar Odoric in 1330; then no one else until the
Austrian Jesuit, Grueber, came in 1662, accompanied by the
Belgian, Count Dorville. The next group followed in 1706,
when the Capuchin Fathers, Joseph E. Asculi and Francesco
de Tour, came, and soon after them, in 1716, two Jesuits, De-
sideri and Freyer, made the journey for the purpose of convert-
ing the heathen. Yes, andthere was Nain Sing who reached the
Forbidden City in 1 8 66 and again in 1 8 74, to be followed by A.
Krishna (AK) on his second trip in 1878. The two last-named
personages were connected with the Indian secret survey work,
and by disguising themselves as natives they travelled the
length and breadth of Tibet, revolving their prayer-wheels,
which contained papers for geographical notations, and dropping
off their beads at every hundred paces. These articles being of
Penthouse of the Gods
a religious nature, the customs officials never thought to examine
themj consequently, their owners were able to bring their rec-
ords back without any difficulty.
From this it could be seen that, considering the centuries, the
number of outsiders who managed to get in was exceedingly
small. In any event, never before had the Government per-
mitted a foreigner to enter with the purpose of making a re-
ligious pilgrimage to the Holy City. The British, to be sure,
now enter quite regularly for political reasons only, because
they can always use the threat of forcej but even they pay their
visits usually accompanied by an armed guard, for the passes
are still very dangerous. Indeed, it is not so long ago that a
Nepalese was killed and robbed on his way over this very trail;
so the journey is not wholly free of adventure and excitement.
Mr. Cutting alone, accompanied by Varney, an Englishman,
was allowed to enter on other than political grounds, but even
in their case, as I learned later, their strong political connection,
together with a plenitude of gifts sent many years ahead, was
largely instrumental in securing the permission to enter.
The trail was interesting, in spite of its lack of vegetation;
for I am used to the beauty to be found in nature in the nude.
The entire valley was adorned with small monasteries hidden
away in high ravines, each monastery marked on the road by a
mam, a small wall built up on which there are paintings of the
deity and the inscription of the sacred words:
"Om' mwii -pa&^me Hum!" ("Hail! The Jewel [Grand
Lama] in the lotus-flower !"*
*The syllables of the sacred formula have been interpreted as follows:
OM=of the Heavenly word, MA=of the World of Spirits; NI=of the
Human World; PAD= World of the Animals, ME=of the World of
Ghosts; HUMrrof the Spaces of Hell. These are the six divisions m the
Tibetan Wheel of Life,
[126]
From Gyantse to Lhasa
If you are a believer in the faith, it is your custom to pass
on the left side of this, and now I must be careful with every
act. Along the river's edge are the homes of the more powerful
landlords whose outside walls are decorated with the usual
rows of red, white and blue stripes, and "prayer-flags," utilized
as good-luck chai^ms, posted along the corners of the roofs.
Called "dragon-horses," these talismans reveal as the centre of
the design a horse, which displays the mystic "Jewel" on its
back, encircled by symbols of Indian-Chinese myths and mys-
tical Buddhist incantations, to say nothing of divine invocations.
To see one of these houses, one of these monasteries, or a single
mile of this canyon, is to see all of the houses, aU of the mon-
asteries, the whole of the canyon. They are all so many slight
variations on a single theme.
Here, for the first time, you do get the feeling that you are
in a wholly new world as yet untouched by contact with Euro-
peans. This is clearly evident eveir in such trifling things as the
head-dresses of the men and passing travellers of the upper
class, which you never see below Gyantse. The novelty of it
intensifies the excitement. Indeed, even the character of the
people seems to be different They do not show that sense of
inferiority, of submission, which the English knock into every
race with which they come into contact. It is a matter of specu-
lation, however, as to how long this state of affairs will last. I
fear not long, for the British are entrenching themselves nearer
and nearer Lhasa, and it cannot be many years before one will
see a railway coming up the Chumbi Valley, and the English
will have a permanent post at Lhasa, as they have now at
Gyantse.
As for me, my delight increased with every step that I was
receding from the Europeans. It was the feeling of Tibetan cul-
ture that I wanted to ingrain into my system; for a brief space
at least I wanted wholly to eradicate every mood of my past,
[ 127]
Penthouse of the Gods
that I might with better grace don the new cloak of conscious-
ness. The English could be neighbors to this culture for the
next ten thousand years and still be stewing in their ignorance,
without once thinking to ask a question and forever making
damn sure that every one passes them by with the proper greet-
ing. At moments I become so infuriated with this attitude that
I wish I could wring every drop of English blood out of my
veins, for I feel that they are absolutely lacking in imagination.
I wish that some of my finicky and delicate friends could be
led through the same dark stables to their dinner table as I was
to my would-be-lunch, which was consumed to the rhythm of
the barking dogs chained at the entrance of every Tibetan house.
The first thing you see on entering a Tibetan home is the stable,
and out of the stable you climb up to where the native lives,
and by the time you get into as low a stratum of society as I did
on this particular day, you learn that the top floor is no better
than the bottom. As I climbed up their ladder and raised my
head above the floor, all that I could see was a big cloud of dust.
Then I ascertained that they were cleaning a spot for me to sit.
After finding my way through this screen of yak-dung dust, I
discovered a chap spitting on the table which I was to use, in
order to brighten it up a bit. My attention was distracted, how-
ever, by the appearance of the next character, a woman who had
no more upper lip than I have a tail, which did not prevent her
from greeting me. Pve seen hare-lips before, but this one would
have won the highest award anywhere. They stared at me, fas-
cinated by my cup of tea and cracker with a piece of sardine
hanging over the edge of it. They all had to sit and watch me,
just as at breakfast, before leaving that morning, I had to watch
the muleteers sit around their pot of chang and see them con-
sume their handful of barley flour.
What gave me a real jolt was when I had to urinate. After
ducking around all the corners that could be found, and think-
From Gyantse to Lhasa
ing I was perfectly safe from observers, the old girl of the
house had to come around to have a chat with me about nothing
while I was in the middle of the performance. Then and there
I sensibly decided that I was now in Tibet and must act accord-
ingly. I promptly discarded my embarrassment in tune with her
nonchalance, and I am sure she minded me no more than if I
had been one of the mules, which should have been there.
3
With fifteen miles still before me, I was presently on my
way, arriving at the next stopping-place around four-thirty in
the afternoon and waiting until nine for the transport. It was
then that my regular meal of yak and potatoes was brought in.
It reminded me of my childhood days when I used to visit my
friends on the cattle ranches during the summer months, when
they were rounding up the cattle. We got ready to leave on the
drive about four in the morning, and did not return for our last
meal until around ten at night, only to repeat the same process
on the following day. This is the daily rhythm of Tibet. The
place in which I spent the night was in no wise different from
the one where I had my lunch j so now I slept in filth as well as
ate in it. I now found myself wishing I had brought my own
tent. I hoped I should come out alive, let alone learn something.
Not that I should fail to make an effort to do both.
About eleven o'clock that night, while writing out my notes,
I looked up through the smoke that filled the room lighted by
a small Buddha lamp and discerned a strange -looking indi-
vidual, who loomed up from nowhere. He had heard that I was
on my way to Lhasa, and as he was going there also, he had
come to ask if he might join with my party for the rest of the
journey, especially as many dangers lurked in the narrow can-
yon trails for solitary travellers. On scrutiny, his face appeared
trustworthy, so after conversing with him a while I gave my
[ 1293
Penthouse of the Gods
assent, although I had previously refused one party in Gyantse.
But as this traveller was on the spot, and, indeed, on the move,
there was little reason to say No. At the end of the first day I
was glad that I had shown him favor, for he had already made
himself worth his weight in gold by managing to get the trans-
port in at a reasonable time. The fact is, thanks to the new man,
the transport got off a little after five, having caught up with
us when we stopped to have a snack at an altitude of 16,400
feet.
As soon as they were off and breakfast was out of the way,
we set out again, not catching up with the transport for some
little time. It was a beautiful start; the sun was just rising, and
the valley was lighted up with its reflection from the ice cap of
Mt. Nojin, which loomed at an altitude of 24,000 feet} our
side trail wound its way along the foot of the glacier for the
entire morning, until we crossed the Karo Pass, and began our
descent to the Tor-fmgy or "The Horses' Plain," a not too ex-
tensive meadow formed by the valley broadening at this point;
this plain is but a couple of thousand feet below the pass, but at
no time is there any impression of being at sea level.
Innumerable tiny gopher-like animals kept on darting across
the path, while diminutive gray sparrows went on flitting to one
side until we went by; these were the only manifestations of life
on this day; there was no human company along the road as
had been the case the day before. Doubtless, this was due to our
extremely early start. Later we encountered countless small
herds of sheep and goats nosing among the rocks in the effort to
find a blade of green. The entire day was spent in tripping and
stumbling over the rocky ribbon of the heavens.
Shortly after crossing the pass we spotted a party coming
up the trail, and as we approached each other nearer I recog-
nized NorphePs hat. He was the boy that Tharchin had chosen
to take with him, and he was now sent back to assist in bringing
[ 130]
From Gyantse to Lhasa
me to Lhasa. I was very grateful to Tharchin, as I was ignorant
of the trail. Nevertheless, it had been an interesting and valu-
able experience to have travelled so far to all intents and pur-
poses alone. Lhare, the boy who was left with me, was as
loquacious as an Arkansas farmer or a New York taxicab driver.
He couldn't understand even "Yes" in English, which forced
me to speak Tibetan at all times. At the moment of our meeting,
Norphel broke into a storm of enthusiasm, to,reyal his own
joy over all that had taken place in Lhasa. \/
Now, with Norphel to look after me, I coula proceed where
few had trodden before, living next to the earth, for that is
about all a house amounts to in this country: the heaping up of
a lot of mud. In the larger centers, however, the houses are
made of rock. I must admit that we had a more respectable
place for lunch, for we sat at the edge of a corral, and I was
able to see the sky and have birds for company. It is really
astonishing how starved the creatures of this country are. A
familiar sight is that of dying dogs bracing themselves with out-
stretched legs before the door of a dark bungalow, in the hope
that you will throw them something to eat. On occasions I have
done so, and watched them swallow bone and all after only two
bites. When you see these starvelings it makes you ashamed to
eat. On the other hand, if you tried to feed them first, you
would have to bring in a railway in order to import sufficient
food for all of them} as every household has dozens of these
beasts. Apparently, the only ones fed are the mastiffs chained
at the gate, and the tiny native terriers; again and again I was
almost tempted to buy one to take back with me. As for the rest
of the mongrels, they are so weak that they will not^even run
after a piece of food. The one nearest is the one who gets it.
They cannot run for lack of energy.
A sight that fascinated me one morning before leaving my
stable was a train of animals, half yaks half cows, which came
[131]
Penthouse of the Gods
in with their loads, and those belonging to the household were
within the walls waiting to get the few drops of milk promised
by the appearance of these cattle, while those attending upon
the animals made a dash for them as soon as they came to a
stop. Upon reaching them, they began licking off the eyes of
their travelling friends. It was one of the strangest things I had
ever encountered in all my barnyard experience. The only way
I could account for it was their thirst for salt, for none was avail-
able in this particular section of the country. As soon as they
had cleaned the eyes they began to lick the bodies which had
been sweating under their loads. How on earth they are ever
able to get a cup of milk out of these sacks of protruding bones
is more than I can understand; yet after applying all the en-
ergy they have they manage somehow to get enough for their
needs, after letting me have the most of it, I should not want
to risk living on it, for I felt that there could be no more food
value in it than there is in a rock.
That night I rested in some dark little hole sitting cross-
legged on a Tibetan mat in an effort to jot down a few details
of the day before they have been obscured by the details of the
morrow. My abode at the moment was somewhat cleaner than
those I had so far encountered, as I was living in the home of
a villager who had his house in the city, making it impossible
for him to have his stock sleep with him; so we stepped out of
a dusty lane shadowed by waving prayer-flags into a small patio
which lies within the outer walls of the house, flush with the
street. In this tiny square everything happens: work, visiting,
coobng, indeed everything that goes into the task of living. Just
off it is a small dark dungeon with a hole in the roof, a hole
just large enough to let the smoke out when it is too cold to
allow the door to remain open. An effort is made to hide some
of the blackened walls by hanging a few drapes behind the cush-
ions which line them; on these cushions you sit or sleep. You
From Gyantse to Lhasa
simply squat on a mat, which is covered with small rugs, and
you carry on, eating, writing, drinking off a small stool or
Tibetan table, a mere few inches above the mat. Then, when
you are exhausted, you simply roll over on your side and go to
sleep, with every one waiting on you. Having done all of my
work during last winter in this position, I found it most com-
fortable j indeed, I was not particularly looking forward to the
nervous desk, at which your feet do more work than your head.
My falling in with Tibetan ways did more than astonish the na-
tive 5 it convinced him that I was one of them.
4
It had been my plan to go as far as Chu-shu on the morrow,
but on ascertaining that it was over fifty miles from there to
Lhasa, I decided to push on more quickly and do forty miles a
day. This was another of those easy runs at 15,000 feet, and we
covered a little over thirty miles in four hours. There was no
loafing about this. Padee was our scheduled stop for lunch, but
as we arrived earlier than we anticipated, we went on, covering
the entire distance without a rest. I should have liked to go on
to the next village, but we had already overstepped our trans-
port limits by one stage. In any event, we should have to pause
to recruit the necessary animals for the morning. So here I sat
a few thousand feet beneath our highest pass, the Kambu La, al-
most 17,000 feet, feeling as fit as a native bird, and wishing
that I could be on the move. I realized, however, that if I
pushed the horses any farther at the pace at which I had kept
them going I should have to walk the rest of the way.
The hovel, in which I took shelter, was nothing to brag about.
I was comfortable, however, and what more could one ask for?
The effort every villager puts forth to make you enjoy your sur-
roundings was so touching that if you had to hang yourself by
your feet in the corner for the night, you were bound to find
[133]
Penthouse of the Gods
some compensation for it. On our arrival there was a great com-
motion, for they had not been previously appraised of our ap-
proach, so all the folks of the village, mostly women, started
running from all directions, with babes on their backs, bringing
their mats to furnish my room. These women seem to carry
their infants on their backs as comfortably as I wear my hat, it
was as though the baby were a part of them, its sleeping head
jolting in this direction and that, as the mother got around cor-
ners and over rough spots. One of them stepped forward and
arranged a comfortable place to sit on the ground, while the
others swept out the retreat with handfuls of bundled straw.
This was not a bad place, until a cloud of dust started rolling
out of the doorway} in the end I was forced to yield, and jnove.
Shortly they beckoned to me to come in, and I forced my way
through the smoke screen set up by the dung fire arranged to
make me comfortable. They were so confoundedly thoughtful
that there was no alternative but to suffer in silence. Still, it's
all a part of the game. .
Not having had a bite to eat since about five-thirty, I was
ravenously hungry. I contented myself, however, with a couple
of crackers with fish and a cup of coffee. It has been my experi-
ence that the less one eats on such journeys the more successful
the journey usually is; and at all times this abstemiousness is
stimulating to the imagination. Yet I must confess that the ap-
petite is always there with me, and it seems insatiable.
Each house, as I have already said, is nothing but a corral
with a few adjacent rooms into which children, goats, sheep and
cows pass freely, and equally freely out again. In all the corrals
the women were standing about with their wool spindles mak-
ing their thread. It is fortunate that their needs do not exceed
their mentalities, or there would be a woman problem on
Tibetan hands. As it is, they are content to bask within the pro-
tective enclosure, spinning their yarn, playing with the children,
From Gyantse to Lhasa
and gossiping. With such expanses of natural beauty about
them, it is interesting to reflect upon the fact that they always
choose to congregate in some filthy little hole, piled up on top
of one another. I suppose this is what is called the social in-
stinct.
The day had been a glorious one, starting with the tinkling of
bells as my horse drove his nose deeper into his nosebag around
three-thirty. There was no question about the men trying to make
an early start, but it is the eternal talk that eats up the day. As it
was, we did not get off until about five-thirty, when it should
have been at least an hour earlier. You watched men sit down
on the ground around their keg of butter tea, which they poured
into their small Chinese bowls; then they snatched a handful of
ground-up barley from their homespun bags, and made it into
a thick paste, which they rolled into sjnall dough-like balls and
ate in small bits. After consuming two bowlfuls of tea, they
would begin to wag their tongues over the business in hand.
First they would collect all the boxes, after deciding who was
going to carry the heavy ones. Once all these details were ar-
ranged, the real wrangle would begin. Whose pony was going
to carry which boxes? Etc., etc. In the course of a few hours
such problems were settled, and they would make a start, not
stopping except for a brief break to consume a few more balls
of barley dough.
And so we were ready to leave Nargatse, a stronghold on the
banks of the Yam-dofc-tso (Scorpion Lake because of its slope),
just a few miles from the famous Sam-ding ("Restful Medita-
tion") monastery, situated a few hundred feet above the beau-
tiful lake of the Yam-dok-tso, resting at over 15,000 feet. The
head of this religious retreat is a woman known as Dorje
P'agmo, and she is supposed to be a reincarnation of a deity of
Penthouse of the Gods
that name, whose translation is "The Thunderbolt Sow," with
sources in ancient Eastern mythology relating to the principle
of productivity. She is the only nun in Tibet allowed the privi-
lege of keeping her hair and of riding in a sedan chair when she
is travelling, sharing this exclusive right with the Dalai Lama,
the Tashi Laftia, the King Regent and, formerly, the two Am-
bms (Chinese officials). She receives divine honors from all the
Lamas. The Sam-ding monastery is one of the most important
nunneries in the country.
Shortly after six we cantered off along the western shore of
the great Yamdok Lake, whose border is reputed to encompass
150 miles. This lake is also known by the name of "The Tur-
qoise Lake" because of its color, while the Capuchin monks who
first travelled along its winding shores called it Palte Lake af-
ter the name of the chief village fronting its waters.
The trail wound its way twenty or thirty feet above the shores
of the lake for most of the way, except where the slopes were
precipitous, when the trail rose somewhat higher. The lake's
water is said to be very saline, as is to be expected of a lake with-
out an outlet, and from the ring of salt that hemmed in its bor-
ders, I presume such is the case. All along the way we passed
through small stone villages of typical Tibetan sanitariness, and
adding color to our stony course. Throughout the morning the
lake constantly changed color, as the sun rose higher into the
heavens, until it ultimately reflected in its azure blue the rolling
thunder-clouds that were stacking high into the skies above.
At Yarsi we crossed the projecting arm of the lake and joined
the trail which follows from Shigatse, the largest center in
Western Tibet. This reminded me of Norbhu, who would be
arriving at Lhasa on this very day, and would undoubtedly be
surprised to hear that I was on my way. We first met at Cal-
cutta last winter, and we had been crossing each other's path
ever since. Our means for getting over the narrow end of the
[136]
From Gyantse to Lhasa
lake was by a perforated causeway, known as the "Blessed
Bridge." Our chief companions of the road were the fish, which
could be seen swimming about in the clear waters off shore.
There were literally thousands of them, so thick in some places
as to seem like a moving mass. From time to time we caught
sight of geese, ducks and their new flocks of goslings and duck-
lings. The entire country is a huntsmen's and fishermen's para-
dise. Several foxes crossed our trail. Upon seeing us, they
would comfortably relax and watch us pass. They did not re-
veal the slightest fear, a fact sufficiently unusual in my experi-
ence of this animal as to be worth while to make a note of.
All along the way Norphel went on to narrate concerning the
various spirits which dwelt in the crags to our left.
At nine we reached Padee, a fort on the edge of the lake, and
here I found a face that would be worth a small fortune for
any museum, and I did my best to snap a picture of it while its
owner, a grotesque gargoyle-like figure with knotted hair in
filthy attire, was tending to the horses. The fort once belonged
to a rich baron who controlled this part of the country. On look-
ing back we saw the snow-covered peak of Mt. Nojin reflecting
its glory in the serene gleaming waters below.
Before beginning the sooo-foot climb going over the Kam-
bu La we were perched for the night on the slope of the hill at
the small village of Tatnalung. There were more women than
men about the place. These looked after the details, leaving the
heavy work to the men. They tied up the boxes, and collected
them in one place. Women in Tibet would make any athlete
envious, for they have arms such as are the pride of the top-
notch disciple of Bernarr McFadden. Indeed, they do just as
much work as their male counterparts, and the same kind of
work for the most part. The loads they can wield on their backs
are really astonishing.
The next morning we were assured of a successful day, as the
[137]
Penthouse of the Gods
village Lama was present uttering his blessed omens as well as
burning his incense, 'the smoke of which could be seen issuing
from the top of every Tibetan home at the break of day. Almost
anything can be used that will burn and throw out a good stream
of smoke. Cedar boughs, however, are preferred. The principle
of the use of incense here is very much like our own. Its burn-
ing is supposed to propitiate the good spirits.
It was about four-thirty now, and most of the arguments of
the day had been settled. Until the mules, horses, donkeys, or
whatever other beasts there may be, are actually on the move,
there is always the chance of a last-minute dispute to hold up
things for another hour or so, and such was the case of this day.
I was fortunate in getting them started by five, and it was not
long afterward that we followed them up the icy trail through
the chill shade of the early morning. At an altitude of between
16,000 and 17,000 feet, it can be cold at any time of the day,
regardless of the time of the year, if you happen to be in the
shade. Here we were at the end of June, and the trickling
streams had not yet broken through their nightcap of ice. At
this time of day wind was but rarely encountered; this made
the crossing of the pass very pleasant as we basked in the light
of the rising sun, taking in the glory of the valley, divided by
this great range which separated Western Tibet from Central
Tibet, the land of the Sacred City, to which we were slowly
winding our way.
The ridge was marked with the customary collection of
streaming prayer-flags, as well as its pile of rocks, which grows
with the passing of each party bringing another rock to add to
the pile for good luck. This was the largest I had yet seen; it
was many feet above the head of a man on horseback. As it hap-
pened, we arrived at the summit with the pack animals and
watched the men one by one adding their gift of stored-up for-
tune in the great beyond. At this point we had the most encom-
[138]
From Gyantse to Lhasa
passing view so far of the great Yam-dok-tso, even though it was
only an arm of it j we could see it for miles in both directions,
with the small village where we had spent the night still sleep-
ing in the shade of the breaking day. Except for the vast expanse
of the country, there is little to hold your attention} for the hills
are as bare of vegetation as are the New York streets. It is not,
however, what you see that enthralls you and stirs a desire in
you to linger in order to fathom it all.
And now we turned toward Central Tibet, with the mighty
Tsangpo-chu winding its way into the deep valley below, a mat-
ter of some 4000 feet, which meant a four-mile walk on our
part; for at this point the trail is so steeep and rocky that it was
not safe to entrust our footing to the small animals. There was
little to be seen through the rising haze of the early morning.
The mere fact that we were aware that from this point we would
follow the hidden valley that led to the Sacred City was suf-
ficient to compensate us for the absence of visibility. So few
Westerners had gotten this far, and this, too, was a source of
perhaps pardonable satisfaction. A mild word, for what I felt
was exultation.
It was a long, arduous, dusty descent down hill. We passed
several trains of wool on their long journey to India, from
where the product would be sent on to America. It is truly as-
tonishing to think of the high mountain passes which must be
crossed to bring this wool to our country and to be sold for vir-
tually nothing. How can it be done? On reaching the bottom
of the hill, there was yet a tremendous canyon to drop into, cut
by the torrents of heavy rain and melting snows. It was
strangely reminiscent at times of our own great Western ero-
sions. The floor was nothing but a stony way of uncertainty. In-
deed, I felt very much at home again.
Our first greeting in Central Tibet came from a large herd
of black pigs taken out to graze for the day by the children of
Penthouse of the Gods
the owner's family. They were grunting along in typical pig
fashion, even if they did live in such a remote corner of the
world. At the bottom we had our first sight of trees, and of
green patches, since we left Gyantse. The small farms that dot
the barren valley are all surrounded by large clusters of trees,
in much the same manner as those isolated ranches in our great
Southwest
We were headed for Chu-shu, which meant a little over
thirty miles for that day} so we lost no time in dashing through
the small villages along the wayj the roads and trails, as they
used to be with us, all lead through the heart of each village.
This lends a bit of color and variation to travel.
Behind us were to be seen the snow-capped ridges, but then
the vision of a snow-ridge was unavoidable in a country like
Tibet} but this particular valley was enclosed on all sides.
Doubtless, one of the reasons for choosing this of all places for
the centre of the faith and the capital of the land is that it offers
an almost impenetrable barrier and obviates the need of main-
taining a large and costly army. Judging from the accounts of
the 1904 expedition and from my own travel experience, I
should say that if the Tibetans had just a little fight in them,
it would be impossible for any one to enter. But, apparently,
there is too much religious superstition to encourage the de-
velopment of an appropriate if limited armed force, such as is
possessed by the tribe of the Afrides, who command the Khyber
Pass. They were actually ready for the British at the time of the
invasion; for there are spots between these narrow canyon walls
where a handful of men could keep out an army, because it
would be necessary for the advancing hordes to send their men
all the way around to China in order to carry out a counter-
attack. Such, however, did not in this instance prove the case}
From Gyantse to Lhasa
for, after a few shots by their imperialistic cousins, their oppo-
nents took to their heels, except those who stood still and drew
a ring around themselves and said a prayer to ensure their
safety. Such things are really pathetic, but I suppose we must
accept them as a part of the irrationality of life. Yet at one time
they did entertain some idea of self-defensive military mea-
sures, and of this the ruins of the decaying fort we had passed
by stood witness.
Here and there small monasteries can be seen tucked away
in the rocky ravines that lead up the almost perpendicular walls
of crumbling sandstone. When their inmates want to go out and
meditate there is no question of any intrusion on their peace;
would even a crow want to visit them? How they manage to
exist is something of a mystery. I assume that there must be a
hidden spring near by, and that the neighboring villages pile
up virtues for the next life by supplying them with grain. Every
now and then you see a nunnery, and from all accounts the nun-
nery population always holds its own.
Soon we traversed a few miles oddly reminiscent of the
Yuma desert j or it might have been the Arabian desert rather
than the high plateaus of Tibet. With all this sand, they are
wind-swept. Such was our scenery for the remainder of the
journey that day} the hills and the valley were almost obscured
by these floating carpets raised by the winds. Many of the shal-
low nullahs were well-nigh covered over. Wherever there was
a wall to help bank up the sand, there would be small moun-
tains of these motionful sand dunes. It is easy to guess how bare
the valleys must be, broken up as they are into small fingers of
sand and gravel by the mighty Tsangpo-chu, which slowly rolls
its way across the entire length of Tibet around the formidable
Himalayan barriers into the plains of Assam and down to where
it meets the sacred river of India, the Ganges. In India this river
is known as the Brahmaputra.
Penthouse of die Gods
There was a diversion for us from the sands in the Tibetan
ferry which we had to take to cross this great river. The small
boats used for the crossing are made of stretched yak hide and
can be easily carried by one man. There is scarcely any limit,
however, to what they will hold. When we parted from the
ferry pier of rock down the stream to Chu-shu, where the Lhasa
River joins the Tsangpo-chu, we carried beside the boatman and
our party of three, four Tibetan muleteers, as well as a goat, a
dog, and a large load of lumber* As for our horses, they were
sent directly across by a long narrow wooden ferry, which we
hired for taking over the transport. Each of these huge barges
of walnut planks is capable of carrying twenty horses, a dozen
men and a ton of miscellaneous articles.
After sending everything else over the barges, we took small
Kowas (leather boats) and floated down on the Chu-shu past
the famous Chaksam Chd-ri* monastery with its old iron sus-
pension bridge which still hangs across the river, attached to
a small island of sand. It has been out of use, however, for
many years, owing to the fact that the river has changed its
course and left the end opposite the monastery only a tiny island
in the center. The bridge is said to have still been used in 1 878,
when visited by one of the survey spies, who made a map of it.
The Holy Hill of the iron bridge is supposed to have been built
in the fifteenth century by T'angtong-the-King. This monarch
has now been canonized as a saint, who is represented by an im-
age with a dark complexion and long white hair and beard.
Seated holding a thunderbolt in his left hand and an iron chain
in his right, he is reputed to have built eight such bridges at
various times. All that remains today are the crumbling chorten-
like pillars and the span chains of huge iron links about a foot
long each. The span is about 150 yards, and fifteen feet above
the floor level.
*Tlie Hol 7 Hill of the Iron Bridge."
From Gyantse to Lhasa
Chu-shu was reached about lunch time, so we had a cup of
Tibetan tea and a cracker while we waited for the transport to
catch up with us. Here we had to arrange for a fresh transport
of animals. For the first time in ages I enjoyed resting in a clean
room, decorated with colorful Tibetan thmgkas and a small
Buddha shrine. It formed a tremendous contrast to the barns in
which I had been previously taking my repose, I do not know
who the owner of it was, but from all indications he must have
been one of the powerful landlords of this region. Indeed, there
was every reason to think that henceforth life for me would be
different. From this point the great way of tod to Lhasa was
bordered on both sides by large willow trees, which provided a
welcome change in the scenery. There were other radical differ-
ences in the landscape; from now on, below the bare mounds of
disintegrating hills on either side, trees, flowers and fresh crops
began to appear.
Chu-shu itself lies behind the powerful old fort built in the
sharp ridge, that drops down in an almost perpendicular wall
to the seething tides of the Tsangpo-chu below. The trail was
chiselled into the side of this sheer wall, making it an almost
impossible entrance to the Forbidden City. The rest of our trail
varied from crossing sections of dried-up gummy bottoms of the
river to picking our way cautiously across the loose rocks in
the trail cut into the sides of the wall of the great cliffs. There
was a distant view with extensive meadows of mustard in bloom.
It made a fine sight for the eyes, and once we should get beyond
it, Lhasa would be only fifty miles away.
This had been a hard day; we had covered nearly sixty miles,
only to arrive at the filthiest, crummiest place for the night's
lodging. For company we had a couple of whining old women,
to whom however we paid not the least attention. We had al-
ready eaten up the little that we carried in the saddlebags for
lunch, so there was nothing to be had but some Tibetan butter
Penthouse of the Gods
tea and a couple of old eggs that we begged off the chickens
whkh made their abode in this corral. I had been eating so scan-
tily during the journey that now for the first time I was begin-
ning to feel fatigue. I realized that I had been living on my
reserves, now at the vanishing point. I did not feel, however,
like complaining.
All through the day I went on noting the evidences of being
in another part of Tibet. The headdresses that now adorned the
heads of the peasants working in the fields were different from
those I encountered before. Even the earrings worn by the men
were not the same. Indeed, I was able to detect differences in
the language. Only in one respect were the people emphatically
the same, regardless of the region in which they lived, and this
was their belief in their faith. All whom we passed, trudging
their way along the dusty road, were wrapt in a mood of the
pilgrim on his eternal quest, and they went on audibly murmur-
ing the sacred incantation: Om! Ma-m Qad-ine Hum!"zt the
same time dropping off the beads of their rosaries as fast as the
thumb-like fingers could push them along. Many of these souls
were so heavily engaged in this ritual that they seemed hardly
aware of us as we passed them. Only now and then an old
woman would condescend to give us a flitting glance, but her
lips would not pause for an instant, preoccupied as they were
with mumblings which had to do with eternity.
So this was Tibet, with the Penthouse of the Gods just around
the corner. Only a few hours away. What was it going to be
like? Were all the stories I heard of its beauty going to be true?
What would be my feeling on the first glimpse? And with these
last thoughts, I slipped from my seat for a brief nap.
The day brought what was to be the greatest event in my
entire life, and I was so stoked up with emotion as to be almost
From Gyantse to Lhasa
afraid to remain alone, or to stop moving even for a moment.
Lhasa was our next stop, so there was no need to think of not
being able to wake up in the morning. I would have just as lief
ridden that night, for by the time you have covered 350 miles
in this kind of country, a matter of a few additional miles to
reach your destination does not amount to a great deal. After
all, I was going to Lhasa, the city for whose sake I had devoted
many years to study, a city of which I had been continuously
dreaming.
We were off again through the glittering fields of gold richly
aglow with the early morning sun. From this point on the coun-
try was one continuous area under cultivation; so our main com-
pany along the way consisted of the women who were directing
the waters by banking up the broken spots in the ditches. It was
not long before we came into the main Lhasa valley, a view of
the city was prevented only by a small arm of the mountains,
which help to break the winds coming up the valley.
All of a sudden I heard a loud whoop. You might have im-
agined that it was a band of wild Indians on the war-path. Actu-
ally, it came from none other than Norphel. He had rushed to
tell us about the exact position of the aty, and was overflowing
with fervor to reach the first view, so that we could have an
advance glimpse through the field glasses. Eagerly we rode on,
so that we might see around a small ridge. Norphel pointed out
a high pile of stones on the trail ahead, and said that from there
one could get the first view of the Sacred City, adding that every
passer-by always flung a stone on the growing hill as he gazed
at the remote goal. So at a fast gallop we made for this mark,
where it was possible to discern our destination through the
passing mists of the morning.
At first we could see nothing. Then, suddenly, as the sun
rose above the mountain range, a cluster of golden roofs
gleamed forth a radiance and a splendor such as I scarcely ever
Penthouse of the Gods
dreamt of. We were now eight miles away, heading straight for
this Mirror of the Gods.
The trails were marked with endless rock carvings of Tibe-
tan saints. There was a tremendous image of Buddha carved in the
rock facing the Holy City. The houses were rich in their broad
stripes of red, white and blue. The sacred colors are om (white),
ma (green), m (yellow), fad (blue), me (red), himg (black
or dark blue). There was also the tomb of Atisha, an Indian
friar who came to India in the eleventh century and brought in
the reform movement, from which has gradually developed the
Gelupa sect of today, the Yellow Cap. The shrine in which he
was buried is in a very ruinous condition, which is surprising,
considering that the ruling sect is presumed to hold him in so
great esteem.
About five miles beyond, we crossed over the pride of Tibet,
their newly constructed all-steel bridge, which they had been
building during the past three years. I should add that the ac-
tual construction had been a matter of some six months, and the
rest of the time was consumed in bringing up the necessary
materials from India over the Jelup La, a word which in itself
tells the whole story, for this is a precipitous pass, almost
15,000 feet high. I must admit that they have done a good
piece of work for Tibetans, who have no appreciation of engi-
neering, with the possible exception of one chap who was sent
to England with three others about twenty years ago to get a
Western education by the late Dalai Lama. The idea was con-
ceived and executed by Tsarong, Tibet's most up-and-coming
personality, now more or less m the twilight of his life. He ap-
pears to have aided Western civilization in an invasion of his
country at every opportunity, and, incidentally, to have accu-
mulated a fortune in the process. He is, in fact, the only private
millionaire in Tibet, I speak in terms of the American dollar,
not the rupee. An interesting story is told in connection with
From Gyantse to Lhasa
the building of this bridge. In order to have a knowledge of its
construction, it was first planned and set up in India. Then,
with the plans already sent on to Tibet, the bridge was disman-
tled, and each piece was carried upon a coolie's back into Lhasa.
Tsarong followed the directions to the letter, yet when the
bridge was finished there were six pieces left over!
A still more astonishing sight was that of an aerial radio.
Had I known that this was the house built by Tsarong, to be
used during the construction of the bridge, I might have ex-
pected it. As it was, I had no option but to make the only pos-
sible guess, and the right one.
I espied an old wqman sitting beside a decaying shrine with
a basketful of turnips in front of her, in the hope that a pros-
pective buyer might show up. One did, for I am a lover of raw
turnips. I bought a couple of bunches and broke the morning
fast. I never ate a better vegetable anywhere j it was certainly
better than anything that could be found in India.
After negotiating a rocky ridge, we entered upon a broad
highway, which stall further widened into a twelve-lane thor-
oughfare, overcrowded with yaks and donkeys, and us on our
royal horses riding in between them. It was but a short dis-
tance before we came around the bend which sheltered the great
monastery of Drepung, the largest in the world, holding in
the neighborhood of 10,000 monks. It was a startling sight:
white masonry studded over with the black spots, which indi-
cated the endless series of chambers, gloomy cells of meditation.
Innumerable questions ran pell-mell in my mind, but I re-
strained myself. After all, the time would presently come
when I should pay a visit to the monastery, indeed to its every
shrine before taking my final departure. I had seen endless
pictures of this sanctuary, yet it was wholly unlike such pre-
liminary impressions. The truth is, no film could possibly con-
vey its majesty. There is a sense of immaculateness about it
[147]
Penthouse of the Gods
which eludes the camera, so faithful in capturing external
forms.
Later we passed the slaughter-house, which provides the
meat for those sacred souls who are not permitted to take life
but must have something to eat. Through the open door great
carcasses of butchered animals could be seen hanging from the
ceiling, with the dry, cool weather of Tibet acting in lieu of a
refrigerating system, the stomach in lieu of a government meat
inspector. A small way beyond, tucked away in a beautiful
grove on the sloping hill, could be seen the glittering roof of a
sacred tomb and the shrine of the government Oracle. By now
we could see the Potala as well as Chak-po-ri (the Medical
College) at the opposite end of the hill, on which the Potala
is built, crowning the pinnacle with shadows from the valley
floor.
8
At no great distance, on the side of the road, I espied a small
black area, which turned out to be the official meeting place; for
it is the custom of the Tibetans, as I have already indicated, al-
ways to send some one to meet a newcomer on the way to pay
them a visit. So the Government had sent me an escort and a
guide. The most striking thing about the individual who
greeted me was the strange little yellow hat he wore, so dif-
ferent from anything I had ever seen or heard that I can hardly
describe it except to say that there was as little hat about it as
about some of the more recent models tied on the heads of the
women in our Easter-Day parade. The yellow, to be sure, was
a token of officialdom; as no one not of the ruling group is per-
mitted to wear this color. He was a man of average stature,
draped in a heavy dark dress of hand-made nambu, or Tibetan
cloth. He seemed extremely well fed, and his plump little face
From Gyantse to Lhasa
was never without a smile. He wore his hair in a long braid
down the middle of his back, with large turquoise ornaments
adorning it. From his left ear hung the long earring worn by
the upper class of Tibet, as indeed I observed when I first met
Jigme at Gyantse. On the right ear was a small button of tur-
quoise. On a previous occasion I asked why they wore only one
long earring, and a small button on the other ear. The reply
was that they thought it looked more smart that way than if
both ears were adorned in a similar fashion, and there is little
doubt that this is true.
We had scarcely exchanged greetings, when I spotted Thar-
chin racing through a cloud of dust. It was a cheering sight in a
lost corner of the world to see a friendly, familiar face. I rushed
toward^him as fervently as he towards me, and as we met there
was an infusion of deep emotion. Had it not been for his loy-
alty, which enabled us to work quickly in the brief time at our
disposal, I should never have been able to manage to be here.
When he left for Lhasa neither of us was by any means sure
that we should meet again there. His animated face with the
flowing moustache stretched out from ear to ear revealed how
great the joy my arrival afforded him. I almost felt that he
was getting a bigger kick out of it than I was. Perhaps I should
not be using so blatant an Americanism in writing of a pilgrim-
age to Tibet; but the fact is, the sort of personal exuberance I
experienced at the meeting is always conducive to a reaffirma-
tion of the native idiom. After a few minutes he insisted upon
taking a couple of hurried shots with the movie camera which
he had brought along.
Tsarong Shape had sent a fresh horse to bring me the rest of
the way. I must admit to the pleasure I had in mounting it, for
it was a real horse and not one of the small Bhotiya ponies such
as I had been riding. Officials in Lhasa, and in neighboring
China, have horses hard to beat anywhere. They are by no
CH9]
Penthouse of the Gods
means the Arabian race horse nor a thoroughbred, but there
is no question about their strength and capacity.
To our left was the great wall which surrounded the beauti-
ful Jewel Park, the summer palace of the Dalai Lama. This is
undoubtedly one of the finest parks in the city, which is often
mentioned throughout the land as the city of the four parks.
The Lhasans take much the same pride in their lovely parks as
does Chicago in its green spots, and San Francisco in its Golden
Gate Park, and New York in the efforts of Mr. Moses.
We approached the huge chorten y which forms the entrance
arch to the Holy City. It was a great moment for me. Once I
passed through this worship memorial I should be within the
city walls, the first American to live in Lhasa itself, and not
as the other white men, who must remain outside the city walls.
The British, who are great respecters of other people's privacy,
have never attempted to violate the rule of going only when
they are invited. Police are stationed at the entrance to forbid
the unwelcome from entering.
We had barely passed through the famous gate, when there
loomed to our left, seeming to penetrate the clouds themselves,
the palace of the Dalai Lama, majestically dominating the
landscape. It was the home of Buddha's vice-regent on earth.
How was such a structure engineered? It was here centuries be-
fore our country had even come into existence, and while Eu-
rope was still more or less in the dark ages. It seems to matter
little what materials man has at hand with which to work} once
he is able to conceive a thing of beauty, he is also able to repro-
duce it, even under the most difficult circumstances. The struc-
ture, however, had not all been conceived at once, nor erected
in a day. It has come into being by a series of constant new
starts and new additions. But with the accession of each new
wing, its builders have always adhered to the flowing rhythm
of nature, such as is found in this mountainous land. Its ma-
[150]
K
From Gyantse to Lhasa
jestic sweep left me breathless, and I had to pause for a few
moments, to take it in, to feel it, to let it sink into my soul. Yet
I knew that I should be seeing it every day, should be ram-
bling through its long corridors, should be praying before its
shrines, perhaps meditating beneath its golden roof. And,
strangely enough, I did not even think of taking a picture of
it} for something different possessed me, and I had not the
least inclination to bring the mechanical note into the mood of
the moment. Indeed, I was aware of nothing but the sense of
the life and feeling it had created in me.
Once I came to myself, we moved on again, toward the home
of Tsarong, where I should be a guest during my stay in
Lhasa. He had gotten the permission of the Kashag to invite
me. Nothing could have been better than to be granted the
privilege of living in Lhasa's most beautiful home. To be sure,
I had not yet met Tsarong Shape, but I had no doubt that there
must be something to a man who had risen to his eminence.
Then, too, I knew the experience of living in his home would
give me an intimate insight into Tibetan life, which was what
I wanted. He was to have returned to the bridge that morning,
but on hearing that this was the day of my arrival, he called oft
the journey in order to be at home to greet me. Could one ask
for more consideration in any part of the world? I was looking
forward to meeting the Tsarongs.
We rode through the heart of the city, for the Tsarong
house is just on the edge of the other end.
One of the first things to jolt me was the use of the streets
for toilet facilities. It was not an uncommon experience to pass
by a woman squatting for purposes to which we in the West
avoid giving publicity. The first time I was just a bit embar-
rassed, but when I observed that the only expression on the
woman's face was one of astonishment at seeing a strange face
I gave the matter no further thought.
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Penthouse of the Gods
9
Through a clean and decorated courtyard made for the wait-
ing horses we entered a lovely garden, from which the entrance
to the enormous Tsarong dwelling was visible.
Tharchin had dug up a couple of Koto (silk scarves) for me
to present to my hosts, so the two Tsarongs and I met in the
doorway, both unrolling our geeting cards. It was a great pleas-
ure to see the Lady Tsarong again, and in her own magnificent
home, and he was as friendly and jolly as though he had been
my lifelong friend. My first impression was that of a little
chubby ball of glow and fervor, with a face slit from ear to ear
with smiling hospitality. He could not speak a word of Eng-
lish, and I was too much embarrassed to attempt colloquial
speech, which is not the speech they use, thus rendering all of
my experience useless; what I stood in need of now was the
elegance of the honorific. In any event, there was too much
tacit understanding between us to be bothered about the diffi-
culty of such external mechanics.
I was conducted to my suite, which was to be my home for
a while to come. It revealed my hosts' thoughtfulness. Not
only did it contain Tibetan chairs and tables, but also a desk had
been fitted up for me in typical Western fashion, though, from
the moment I laid my eyes on it, I knew that I should never
use it. With this there was a large living room, arranged in
regular Tibetan fashion, its supporting beams all hand-carved
and painted in accord with the usual artistic arrangement of the
royal colors; the design, however, is by far too intricate to at-
tempt a description of it. But any one familiar with Chinese art
can well imagine its magnificence.
The low cushions upon which I would do most of my work
were covered with lovely Tibetan rugs of dragon design. The
walls likewise continued the pattern of the room with a
From Gyantse to Lhasa
beautiful border painted in red, green, yellow, and blue.
In my living room there was a Buddhist shrine, with the
Lama of the house to carry on the chants for me each morn-
ing and to bring fresh holy water daily, as well as to keep the
Buddha lamp filled so that the eternal light should never go
out.
So this was to be my home in Lhasa. Never could I have
dreamt of such comfort. Not that I have listed everything.
Indeed, I also had a separate bedroom, a toilet with our old-
fashioned arrangements, towel racks, portable bathtub, etc.,
as well as a storeroom for my boxes.
10
By now tiffin time was here, and everything was prepared
for me upstairs in the private living quarters, which presented
a grand duplication of all that I had below.
At Kalimpong I had had a Tibetan dinner with Tsarong
Lacham which had been prepared for us by Mrs. Perry, but
now I was to be her guest. She was a gracious hostess, animated
with a friendly enthusiasm.
Food was brought on, but as I have already amply described
high-class Tibetan meals in the past it would be superfluous to
recapitulate the catalogue of courses here. Tsarong, however,
is just Western enough occasionally to call for a whiskey and
soda, and since this was a gala affair he had to celebrate. It was
a leisurely meal, and I nibbled at the endless dishes with the
ease of one who felt thoroughly at home.
"Vfe discussed Tibet and the question of the country's being
modernized. At the end my host expressed the opinion that it
would btT difficult to introduce new ideas into Tibet. Nor did he
think that it would be desirable. He contended that the Tibe-
tans were, on the whole, a happy people, and that changes
might only serve to bring trouble to them by involving them
[153]
Penthouse of the Gods
in international commercial traffic. China and India, to be sure,
could be used as markets for import and export. But it all meant
an involved life and the banishment of peace j and so it was
best, perhaps, that they should remain isolated from the rest of
the world.
My hosts insisted that I take all my meals with them, a satis-
factory arrangement, since it gave me the sort of contact I
wantedj it would enable me to learn Tibetan ways during my
stay. It also would give me the much-needed opportunity to
hear more of their language and to perfect myself in cultural
conversation. The Tsarongs suggested that Tharchin have his
meals elsewhere, in order to preclude my speaking English. I
had little difficulty in conversing with servants, traders, and
the people of the lower class} it was only in speaking to the
highest Tibetan officials that I encountered difficulty, and felt
tremendously shy.
My constant association with the Tsarongs would fulfill an-
other purpose, that of acquainting me more fully with Tibetan
history and psychology} all the more as Tsarong was the closest
friend of the late Dalai Lama since his early childhood. As a
matter of fact, it was through his efforts that the Dalai Lama's
life was saved during the Chinese trouble in Lhasa, when he
had to flee to India for safety. During the Dalai Lama's stay
in India the father of Tsarong Lacham and Mrs. Tsarong's
brother were doing all they could to straighten out matters,
when rumors began to spread to the effect that they were plot-
ting to betray him. The feeling became so acute in the city that
it culminated in the killing of both of them. In consequence of
this, upon the return of the Dalai Lama to the holy city, he
gave his favorite and most promising friend to the Tsarong
family so that it might have a leader. This family is one of the
largest and oldest in the country, and the person whom the late
Dalai Lama had appointed to take charge of the family was
From Gyantse to Lhasa
none other than the present Tsarong Shape, and it was this
event that marked his marriage to Mrs. Tsarong. Having come
from the poorer class in the country and entered the Drepong
monastery, it was not long before he was noted for his keen
mind and dominating personality. It soon brought him into the
graces of the Dalai Lama. He was still a boy at the time, and
the Dalai Lama, on observing his potentialities, asked for the
opportunity of bringing him up. Taken into the Dalai Lama's
household, the boy attended to his holiness until he became a
Shape a member of the Cabinet. At the time of the 1904 ex-
pedition he accompanied the Dalai Lama on his flight to China,
where he took care of his master for seven years. During this
period he picked up many Western ideas, and he made hosts of
friends everywhere he went.
The return to Lhasa, Tsarong told me, was only a year or
two before the Chinese trouble broke out in the Holy Cityj
this time they fled to India. He was then about twenty-four,
and he demonstrated his ability at Chaksam, where he held
back the enemy with only a few men at the top of a high cliff,
until the Dalai Lama could get far enough ahead to avoid be-
ing overtaken. Had he been caught, death would have been
meted out to the whole group. Because of this episode, Tsarong
was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Tibetan military
forces, which was the beginning of the first army of Tibet, and
it was he that organized it. Preoccupied with modern ideas,
which he wished to instil into Tibet, he sent several men to
India to receive the requisite military training. He also intro-
duced the modern rifle and the revolver, in use everywhere
today.
Fortunately, at the death of the late Dalai Lama he was
with his family on their estate in Western Tibet, or he would
have suffered the fate of the other members of the ruling group
of the Government. They were all either killed or injured
[155]
Penthouse of the Gods
Some had their eyes gouged out, others their tongues cut out,
still others were imprisoned in dungeons for life. When he
finally returned to Lhasa, the conditions were safe. It was not
long, however, before there were rumors that the military offi-
cers were planning to overturn the Government. This f ocussed
attention on Tsarong, who was in charge of the army. Whether
there was any truth in the accusations, there is no way to
determine today. In any event, they resulted in the dismissal
of all the officers from the service} the lower officials were
exiled from Lhasa for the remainder of their lives. The person
next in rank to Tsarong, who had the reputation of being one
of the best scholars, had his eyes put out} he is now sitting in
a dungeon at the Potala waiting for the end to come. Tsarong
himself had to suffer demotion to a lower rank.
Among his duties today is that of the head of the mint, which
manufactures all the coins used in the country, as well as prints
paper money and postage stamps. He also takes charge of all
Government engineering contracts, which cover such projects
as the bridge so recently built. He has an ambition to build a
road that will enable an automobile to travel from Chu-shu to
Lhasa within a few hoursj today the journey takes two days.
To be sure, there are no automobiles in the country to travel
over the proposed road, but it would serve as a beginning, and
should the road ever be constructed, the wealthier people of the
country would doubtless import automobiles} that would be
the beginning of the end.
II
The conversation at the breakfast table turned to travel in
Eastern Tibet, in which Tsarong had considerable experience.
Little is known about the country, as no white man has ever
travelled from here in that direction. This put an idea into my
head, and I plied my host with questions, about what was worth
[156]
From Gyantse to Lhasa
while there, the trail, and what not. I was already aware that
the present center af all the Tantrik teachings was to be found
in that region, as also much of their Iearning5 it being indeed
the stronghold of the Kargyupa sect. Then, too, I knew that the
best set of blocks of the Tengywr existed in Eastern Tibet about
a thousand miles from Lhasa. I refer to those in Derge. Not
only are the blocks in a fairly good state, but they are also more
accurate than the set of scriptures to be found at Narthang,
near Shigatsej I have already mentioned the fact that the
latter blocks have been used so often that it is well-nigh im-
possible to read their print. The Derge blocks are not nearly
so old, and, hence, are more legible. It was a part of my mis-
sion to bring back a set of these books to America, and I should
be loath to leave Tibet without one. Naturally, I was interested
in any possibility to visit Eastern Tibet. Tsarong was confident
that I could secure permission to leave Tibet through China in-
stead of through India, and since I had his support I felt that
half the battle was won.
The morning was slipping by, and Tsarong had to visit the
bridge this day. He stopped long enough, however, to look over
the gifts, which had arrived on a rush order. I needed his coun-
sel as to which of them were suitable for different occasions and
which should go to the various Shades. So we went downstairs
and opened up the packages, to find everything had come
through in ship-shape order. I was amazed that nothing had
been broken in transit, as there was no parcel that did not con-
tain glass. As it happened, I bought only one gift for the Re-
gent, and now I discovered that it was customary to bring him
two, since he is the highest personage in the country. Tsarong
came generously forward with an object he had in his house;
he thought it would serve my purpose.
Just as Tsarong was about to take his departure, a represen-
tative of the Kasfog arrived. It is the custom of the country
[157]
Penthouse of the Gods
for the Government to send a gift to a newly come guest, while
each individual member of this body sends an additional per-
sonal gift. This always consists of a consignment of butter, flour,
rice, eggs, and vegetables. My friendly visitor arrived with half
a dozen sacks of flour, about fifteen dozen eggs, four large sacks
of butter weighing about eighty pounds each, and a large tray
of vegetables. After all these things had been stacked in the
middle of the room by his servants, he presented me with a
Kate (silk scarf used as a calling-card), which, however, he
asked me to return after his speech had been made, so as to en-
able him to use the same Kata for a like purpose in the future.
It never seemed to work that way whenever I happened to be
the donor. Once I presented a Kata to any one, I bid it a fond
farewell. What with such calling-cards running into about five
rupees each, and a hundred calls or so to make, it was something
to make one pause. I was driven to make arrangements to buy
them wholesale.
He was a handsome-looking buck, standing over six feet,
with a very intelligent face and a very soft and pleasing man-
ner. After he had addressed me in flowing Tibetan in a tone of
voice which rang from the heart, and with a sparkle in his eyes
which helped to express the meaning of his words, as I looked,
perhaps helplessly in Tharchm's direction, my visitor suddenly
broke into perfect English, without the suspicion of an accent,
and with a command of words that would have excited the ad-
miration of an English or American purist. Who was he, and
how had he learnt it? The explanation, soon forthcoming, was
that he was one of a group of four sent to England some
twenty years ago for training. Before taking up the study of
mining engineering, he had taken the pains to perfect his Eng-
lish.
Presently we joined the Tsarongs upstairs, and had a long
chat about his travels and experiences, and about his sojourn
[158]
From Gyantse to Lhasa
in England. He expressed a wish to see his former classmates,
now scattered to the four corners of the globe. On his return
from England he entered a monastery, and is now a govern-
ment official, very happy in his work. Tsarong had to be on his
way, so we adjourned. I hoped to see more of Mondrol be-
fore I left Lhasa, for he was a charming personality, none bet-
ter to spend an hour with.
12
The same afteroon I was summoned to tea upstairs. I noted
with no little astonishment a beautiful silver tea-set, a large
cake with many cookies, and a large bowl with sweet-bits, all
resting on the low Tibetan table. It seemed strange to see such
a lovely-looking cake in Tibet. Mrs. Tsarong greeted me with
an effusive smile. No sooner had I taken my seat than I asked
where, in the name of heaven, had such a cake miraculously
come from. Then she told me that they had sent their cook
to India for four years in order to learn how to make various
English dishes, because on their many travels to India they
had grown to like some of them and considered it a treat to
have them from time to time. The real surprise came when I
took my first bite. It was one of the most delicious cakes that
ever came my way. Indeed, everything about it was perfect, ex-
cept for the fact that it had been made with yak butter, which
was several years old. This detail in no way hindered the pleas-
ure of tea-time, which became a daily custom with me all the
time I stayed in Lhasa.
Mrs. Tsarong showed me their house temple and the pri-
vate shrine. As a matter of fact, every room in the house con-
tained a small Buddhist shrine. There was also a room devoted
wholly to worship. It was a lovely chamber, impressive as to
color and design. The wood carvings were done by especially
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Penthouse of the Gods
invited craftsmen from Khamj the images were adorned with
jewels, and in every instance gold was substituted for other
metals.
It was an exciting afternoon. Dinner soon followed, and
Mrs. Tsarong and I talked ourselves right into a midnight cup
of tea.
[160]
CHAPTER VI
THE FORBIDDEN CITY
SHORTLY after my arrival in Lhasa, messages were sent to
the Regent and Prime Minister and the various members
of the Kashag announcing my desire to pay them visits.
Prompt responses came, setting a time.
One morning after breakfast I made my preparations for
visiting the King Regent of Tibet. There were other things to
think of besides the gifts. Considerable formality had to be
complied with, since I was determined to carry out such du-
ties in accordance with the native custom. Soon Tharchin and
I, accompanied by servants carrying the gifts, left for his Lhasa
home, his real abode being at Re-ting Monastery four days'
journey north from here. He was the head of this monastery,
and I learned that he would be shortly going there. It was this
knowledge that made me act quickly, all the more as his per-
mission was necessary if I intended leaving Lhasa by way of
China; and a Lama in a remote monastery was like a bird in
the bush.
He had but lately built a new palace here, a beautiful structure,
presenting a Tibetan interpretation of Chinese architecture, with
a flowering garden surrounding it. This garden was rather for-
mal, with its green lawn broken by abundant beds of flowers.
His audience room is so arranged next to a small balcony that
he can enjoy the full beauty of his garden.
There was a formal air to my arrival, with the servants run-
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ning in all directions announcing it and making endless ar-
rangements for the meeting, while I sat in the anteroom and
drank Tibetan tea, waiting for the details to be settled. Along
with the gifts I brought, it was customary to present three other
gifts, which are provided at the place, the visitor being given
the privilege of paying for them. It is just another means of re-
ligious revenue. Indeed, all gifts offered him are, to all intents
and purposes, holy offerings; he is the most holy man on earth
as far as the Tibetans are concerned. His palace is a modest
small home decorated with the exquisite taste which would do
credit to a king, and it must be said that it reveals nothing so
pretentious as countless acres adorned with French chandeliers
and the like. It was just clean, convenient, comfortable.
When the various articles were duly prepared, I entered
the audience chamber, where they were given me one by one,
as I presented them to him after having made my three devo-
tionals down on my hands and knees upon entering his holy
sanctuary. They consisted of a small butter offering, a small
image of Lord Buddha, and a small manuscript. Then he in
turn gave me a Jkata and his blessing, so that prosperity might
always be with me. The small room was well lighted by win-
dows which went the whole breadth of the room in lieu of
a wall. There was quite a large Chinese screen, which
permitted him to look out at his beautiful garden and at the
same time provided him with complete privacy. Everything
seemed very new, and I found excitement no matter whid (ray
I looked. And it was a joy to find a place in the world in which
men did not fear to use color. It certainly has a cheerful effect
on the soul. A small shrine close to him, and thangka decora-
tions, were very modern. His "living box" was about as ele-
gant a one as I had yet seen or was likely to see. It is as if we
were to build a small framework around a davenport cut about
three quarter's length with a back behind it} in it one cross-leg-
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The Forbidden City
ged all day, instead of sprawling out in the typical Western
fashion of slovenliness. This "living box" was all painted in
gold, in keeping with his position, as was his robe, with the bor-
der and the inside done in red. The only dissonance I found in
the room that is, as far as my own feelings at the time were
concerned was an electric fan, attached to the ceiling. For
aught I know, it might be a good idea, but quite unnecessary I
thought, for at no time did I find it hot enough in Tibet to need
a fan.
Never shall I forget the excitement as I stepped across the
sacred threshold and looked into the sparkling eyes of this
young man, who is not yet thirty years of age and head of the
last theocracy on earth. A thrill passed through my entire body,
as I put my hands together on my head, slowly folded them
into my chest, bowed down on my knees to the floor before him
in the customary way, paying respect to a divine soul. He was
standing in his golden box, watching with those sparkling eyes
of his every move I made and the rhythm of every muscle of
my body, as I tried to merge with the vibrations of the room.
It was a strange feeling that came over me as I then knelt be-
fore him and received his blessing, his long, delicate hands rest-
ing on my head.
I was seated just a foot or so in front of him, as we main-
tained a long conversation about the Buddhistic religion and my
plans for spreading it in America. He offered to do all he could
to help me and expressed a willingness to pass on to me the
necessary sacred objects blessed with his own hands, and at the
same time to bestow upon me the power to execute certain di-
vine instructions.
If he had been an American, we would as likely as not find
him a doctorate in literature, or confer upon him an honorary
degree, and, in general, make a fuss about him. But this is
neither here nor there.
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Penthouse of the Gods
He revealed a very frail physique, which harbors a delicate
spiritual personality with a very sensitive nature. He was the
sort of selfless, sympathetic character with whom you might
spend hours without feeling a strain. And the radiance about
him was such that no matter how you felt on coming to him
you were sure to feel the stronger for having been in his com-
pany. A singularly spiritual individual, certainly, yet at the
same time with a keen mind, full of wisdom and understand-
ing, and alive with ideas. A reasonable sense of humor was
here alsoj again and again the earnestness of the meeting was
relieved by laughter. There is nothing so universally compre-
hended as a good laugh, and I find that a laugh is good medi-
cine in any language.
He was eagerly attentive as to my aspirations and my plans,
and he marvelled at my deep interest in Tibetan Buddhism, He
attributed it to a past life in this part of the world as a spiritual
teacher and leader. Such an explanation was within the scope of
Tibetan understanding. He counselled me to make lists of all
the things I was anxious to secure and promised me every as-
sistance in procuring them. Now I had some confidence in that
I should be able to obtain copies of the Kangyur and Tengyur
from the available blocks. We also discussed my plans to return
by way of China. He expressed himself very anxious to watch
my work and help me, if necessary even to the extent of visiting
America to bestow his personal blessing on my labors in this
country. All this seems absurdly strange when I think that I am
the first American who has had the opportunity of seeing him
and the first white man to receive a personal blessing from his
hand.
Several hours passed very quickly. Before I left him, he
asked that I put in my requests promptly, as he should be going
to his monastery in a short time. As I took my leave he put
around my neck a small red silken scarf tied with a triple knot,
The Forbidden City
indicating that I had received a personal blessing from the
Regent. In all of Tibet only the Regent and the T'ri Rimpoche
have the power and the right to bestow this blessing. At the mo-
ment I did not realize its full meaning. But scarcely had I
mounted my horse and begun my ride through the village on
the way to Tsarong's home, when all the people ran out of
doors or peered out of the windows in order to see the strange
person riding through the streets in Tibetan attire with this red
scarf around the neck. This decoration told them that I had re-
ceived the personal blessing of the King Regent himself. Did
they not pray their life away for the privilege to receive this
blessing? But this was something unheard of. Never before in
the history of the country had such a thing happened. And the
gossip travelled fast and far. Who was this fortunate indi-
vidual who had come from a strange world to be so generously
welcomed by their great Divine Soul? From that instant, every
one in Lhasa, from the highest to the lowest, was eager to do
everything to help me.
That afternoon I made a call on the Prime Minister, who
lived just around the corner from the Tsarong estate. You had
to traverse acres and acres of grounds before you reached the
massive three-story structure, which was his residence. Then
you had to climb up the Tibetan ladder staircases through the
gloom of the reflected light until you reached his penthouse,
which was indeed very clean and comfortable, but nothing to be
compared with the interior of the Regent's house, except for his
shrine, which was done in gold and heavily jewelled, while the
walls were decorated with colorful thcmgkas representing the
life of the Lord Buddha.
He is thirty-four years old. This is quite accurate, because I
asked him. In Tibet, indeed, it is proper to ask one's age. It is
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one of the first questions to ask, after you have made due inquiry
about the state of his health, if he has had a safe and com-
fortable journey, etc. Not that the Tibetan will specify his num-
ber of years. He will rather indicate the number by stating that
he was born in the bull year or the dog year, and leave it to you
to figure it out. In this section of the world it is a great honor
to be an old man rather than a young one} it is felt that no one
has gained true understanding until he has passed the half-cen-
tury mark.
The Prime Minister presented no small contrast to the char-
acter of the man I had met that morning} and the afternoon tea
developed into a combat of glittering personalities. It is difficult
to say how much ground I gained in the matter of friendship}
as everything done in Tibet is so indirect. It is the custom in
Asia always to be amiable and smiling and jovial, to talk about
everything except what is uppermost in your mind, and for
which indeed you have made the visit j yet when you leave you
know the answer by implication.
The Prime Minister's duties are limited strictly to civil
labors, having little relation to the religious lifej and it does not
take long to see that he is possessed of all the shrewdness of the
Chinese, a circumstance that indicates the difficulty one may en-
counter in dealing with him. He is actually the son of a brother
of the late Dalai Lama, who appointed him to his position be-
fore his death} while the King-Regent is a reincarnated Lama
of the Re-ting Monastery. On the death of the Dalai Lama the
Government is put in the hands of the Regent, who is chosen
from the four of the high incarnate Lamas of Lhasa. Once he
comes into power, he will hold his position until death or until
the new Dalai Lama is found and becomes of age, at which time
the Dalai Lama might appoint a new Prime Minister.
Throughout the day loads of barley and eggs were sent to
me at the Tsarong home. All that remained now was for two
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The Forbidden City
more officials to pay their respects, according to their custom. As
soon as all the gifts were accumulated I intended to take a pho-
tograph of them, to show to the Western world the Tibetan
way of welcoming a visitor to the Holy City.
3
There was little hope of continuing my studies until I had
disposed of our official visits and social engagements.
The following morning at eight we went to the home of Nang-
chunnga Shape, who lived at no remote distance from us. I had
been warned beforehand of his loquacious and argumentative
nature. Indeed, Tharchm had had some difficulty with him
when he delivered my application to visit Lhasa. He not only
had to make several visits but he had to listen each time to a
long lecture on the evils of allowing strangers to enter their
precious Lhasa. After the servants had taken our horses to the
stable, they announced our arrival. Then the head servant es-
corted us to the anteroom, where the Shape awaited us. On
meeting we merely folded our hands and bowed our heads, post-
poning the formal introduction until after he had escorted us
into his private living room, where he had laid his koto aside
to present to me. I pulled mine out of my sleeve to place across
his folded hands, as they were extended in front of me. I can-
not say that there was anything warm about his personality} his
greeting was barely more than a faint smile, and his eyes seemed
to indicate a host of thoughts behind them, thoughts he in-
tended keeping to himself until he arrived at some conclusion
about me.
He was dressed in the typical golden robe worn by Tibetan
officials, and it gave every evidence of years* service, for there
were no cleaning and pressing establishments in the country.
His head was adorned with the customary jewels of authority
matted into his braid, which was done up in the usual manner
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Penthouse of the Gods
on top of his head, which incidentally bore no indication of hav-
ing been brushed out and redone for many a day. There was
something drab and dingy about every aspect of him and his
home. During the entire visit I found it difficult to be friendly,
no matter what Tharchin or I said, he always said it was wrong.
If we made haste to agree with him and admit that it was wrong
then he would promptly plunge into a long tirade to show that
that was wrong too. There was no pleasing him, no matter what
we said. At the same time I realized that behind this extraordi-
nary manner he was testing me, trying perhaps to confirm the
suspicions he had about me and everything that persuaded
others to allow me to come to the Holy City. I promptly
realized the need of exercising caution, even while conforming
to all the little finesses of Tibetan customs of respect. It is dif-
ficult to say what might have happened if he had been con-
vinced that permission should not have been granted to mej
Tibetans have no scruples about getting rid of an individual
they do not want5 in this respect their imaginations are not want-
ing as to means.
There was just enough time left to us to hurry back to the
Tsarongs for a bite to eat before visiting Kalon Lama Shape,
who had been very instrumental in my coming to Lhasa. I was
anxious for this opportunity to express my appreciation of his
faith in me. He lived at the Potala, which meant that after the
visit we should have to make offerings before its sacred shrines.
Once more we entered the private living quarters through
a corral, which is always the case in Tibet I never ceased being
astonished at the necessity of having to pass such filth in order
to arrive at such beautiful living quarters and altar rooms. The
only exceptions that I had so far found were the homes of the
King Regent, of the Prime Minister, and of the Tsarongs.
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The Forbidden City
Our host came to the stairway with open arms to greet me.
Never have I felt such a flow of friendly warmth flooding me
as I did on meeting this individual wrapped in his Lamaic
blanket of golden silks for he was the Lama official in the cabi-
net. He was an elderly man, and just a bit stooped, as are all of
the Shades y doubtless due to endless hours of study. He put his
arm around me, and begged that I enter ahead of him. I looked
forward to a conversation that it would take years to forget.
But after he had taken his place in the usual painted box, there
was very little saidj yet I felt a great understanding rise on the
waves of silence. I knocked at every possible door of entrance,
and he always came back with the question as to how I had en-
joyed my journey. Yet his personality did not change for an
instant, and I enjoyed being with himj we stayed longer than
we anticipated.
He plainly showed that he had been anxiously waiting for
me to come to him. As soon as he heard that I was in Lhasa he
had set up a small English tea-table in his sanctuary. He served
us English tea, which had been the case in every instance except
that of the King Regent, who clung to his customs and added
the auspicious bowl of rice, sprinkled with sugar, from which
one takes only two or three grains as a token of friendship on
arrival. It is very interesting to watch them serve foreign tea.
Invariably they will do it properly except for some one detail,
never the same. It may be that a tablespoon will be missing
from the sugar bowl, or it may be that the cup will be first half
filled with milk. The spirit of friendliness wipes away such
petty errors of custom. When Tibetan tea is served, the servant
will lift your cup to your lips for you to drink, so you will not
be troubled with the effort of lifting the cup yourself. A fresh
supply is given at each serving, so the tea will always be hot.
There was an altar in the living room, beautifully decorated.
A description of it would involve a complete inventory of all
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Penthouse of the Gods
major and minor deities. It is enough to say that every person
will have his own choice of deities, which is dependent on his
inner feelings, each deity being symbolic of an aspect of truth.
There are always to be found different sets of thmgka$ y in
keeping with the nature of the shrine, hanging from the mould-
ing all around the room} and from these the understanding in-
dividual will grasp the complete emotional story of the person
whose shrine it is 3 for the shrine, the deities and the thangk<is
carry their own symbolic meanings to be picked up by one who
knows.
My host asked me if the people on the other side of the world
also had their shrines in their homes as had the Tibetans. When
I gave him a description of our matter-of-fact Western ways,
he was profoundly shocked. He thought religion was the most
important thing in life, and that the sole justification for exist-
ence was spiritual development Therefore, it was essential that
religion should be carried into every phase of life. He added
that it did not make so much difference what religion a person
had, but he should have some religion that its power may guide
him to the necessary growth and understanding which alone can
transmute his hardships and griefs into wisdom and benediction.
5
On taking leave of him, our host offered us a guide to take
us through the Potala and some of its shrines. His home was
within the Potala walls at the very foot of the palace, and it was
a long and slow climb up the stony stairways which led to the
upper world of sanctity where the deities reposed. I do not know
how tall the Potala is reputed to be, but looking up gave me
the sense of a height greater than of any American skyscraper.
By the time I climbed all the stairs I felt the way one should
feel if he had taken the stairway instead of the elevator to
reach the top of the Empire State Building. So immense are the
The Forbidden City
stones which form the endless stairway that I was under neces-
sity of taking several steps to reach the next upward stone. Ob-
viously a structure which owes much to Chinese influence, it
was built by Tibetans of rock, to endure for centuries.
On the stairway Tharchin and I reviewed our visit, and I was
happy to learn that our host had a reputation for tadturmty,
that indeed he had deigned to speak more to me than was his
usual custom} this information cheered me no end.
So up and up we went, resting from time to time in order to
take a few snapshots of the countryside. When we were about
half way up the clatter of hooves struck upon our ears. Behind
us came dashing a couple of saddle horses that had been left
standing and gotten a bit frisky, having apparently decided to
run along and entertain us with their mood of frolicsomeness.
From the time we stepped across the first threshold at the top
until we came out we passed through corridor after corridor,
each beautifully decorated with life-sized murals of Tibetan
design, depicting the life stories of their saints and of Buddha,
along with those of the various patrons of their religion and of
their deities. All of the woodwork was carved and painted.
There was scarcely an inch left untouched. The stairway lead-
ing into the anteroom was divided into three sections, the mid-
dle of which was roped off, being exclusively preserved for the
footsteps of the Dalai Lama} the right and the left stairways
were accessible to all. If, however, you adhere to their customs
correctly, you will ascend by the left and descend by the right.
On the left wall of the anteroom was a large space covered
with Tibetan writing. Below this writing was an impression of
the hand of the late Dalai Lama. The inscription consisted of
instructions as to the way a visitor should conduct himself in
the palace. The impression of those sacred hands was enclosed
in a glass case in order to protect it from the touch of profane
hands. The other walls of the antechamber, to the right and
Penthouse of the Gods
left of the door leading into the main temple, revealed a variety
of large figures of the deities of the four directions, also some
murals and a number of astrological charts. The woodwork was
hand-carved and painted, and over the spacious doors of the
entrance was a hand-carved frieze of lions' heads which pro-
tected the temple against the intrusion of evil spirits.
At this point we started to climb up the dimly lighted stair-
ways, until we finally emerged at the very top of the Potala in
an open hallway, which led to the shrine of Chen-re-zi, who is
one of the highest celestial Buddhas, who was represented in his
earthly manifestation by the late Dalai Lama. I made my first
offering before this shrine. There are several plastic versions of
Chen-re-zi. This one showed seven heads and a thousand hands.
Each hand had an eye in the palm, indicating infinite vision,
which saw and encompassed the world and all that was in it. It
was a relatively small shrine, with the deities all done in gold.
The main image of Chen-re-zi was clothed in royal silk bro-
cade, crowned with jewels, and adorned with precious neck-
laces. There was considerable devotional commotion, due to the
presence of half a dozen Buddhists; but by now I was some-
thing of an adept at the formalities, and I chimed in with all
the poise of one who had been raised in this country.
6
As we were taking our holy water we heard that the doors of
the tomb of the late Dalai Lama would be closed shortly j so we
made haste to get to it, if only for a glimpse. This tomb consists
of a chorten over three stories high. I must explain that one
Tibetan story is roughly the equivalent of two of our stories.
From top to bottom it is covered with pure gold, to say nothing
of its adornments of jade, turquoise, rubies and coral. The top
of it is decorated with an immense necklace of jade and coral.
Any tiny section of this beautiful golden tomb, encompassing
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some fifty square feet of space, would exceed the entire wealth
to be seen in the monastery of Gyantse, which threw me into
such raptures. The gold alone, mind you, that covers it, is not
mere goldleaf, but slabs of gold thicker than a sturdy piece of
cardboard. Then consider the countless ornaments which adorn
the altar: small trees of solid coral, the loveliest of Chinese
vases, images of the purest jade, Buddha lamps of the finest
silver and gold. And I must not forget to mention the large
offering in the form of a Chinese house standing about three
feet and a half, encrusted from top to bottom with pearls. On
the floor, in front of this altar, are butter lamps of gold, stand-
ing three feet high, large enough to hold a sufficient quantity of
butter to burn for three months without being replenished.
From the ceiling down on two sides are shelves holding the
precious Kangyur and Tengywr y all written in gold. In their
proximity, in the far left-hand corner, is a large image in gold
of the late Dalai Lama himself, in the company of his tutelary
image, which is likewise life-size and of the same metal. A
wealth of countless small images graced the walls. The large
pillars forming the nave in the centre are covered with beautiful
silk brocades} the ceiling is also designed on the patterns of silk
brocades, woven in with pure gold. Never is the opportunity
missed to use gold. Hanging from the ceiling to the floor, but a
short distance from the four corners of the chorten y is the long
royal cylinder or banner, also of the most precious silk.
In the upper stories of the roof, on walls surrounding the top
of this chorten, they are still in the process of finishing the life-
size murals, which will tell the entire story of the late Dalai
Lama's life. It is interesting to watch the craftsmen using their
small bamboo paint brushes j it must require infinite patience.
Just outside the upper galleries the artists are painting sets of
thangkasy which will also delineate the same life story. These
are made by stretching a piece of canvas over a wooden frame,
Penthouse of the Gods
laced with a heavy black cord. At first a rough outline of the
picture is drawn j the artist goes over this again and again, each
time adding a new color, until the picture is finished. It seems
like a very detailed, very intricate process.
7
From this tomb we wended toward the various shrines, any
of which would rank among the first anywhere but in Lhasa.
We visited the shrines of some of the other Dalai Lamas, who
went before, the late Dalai Lama being the thirteenth. Outside
of the tomb of the fifth Dalai Lama, however, none of the
chortens can compare with that of the last. The chortens of the
fifth Dalai Lama and the late Dalai Lama may be said to com-
pete in the same way that the Queen Mary and the Normandte
rival each other. Actually, the new charter* is only a foot or so
taller than the other.
Before leaving the Potala we visited the workshop to have a
look at a recently printed copy of the late Dalai Lama's Kang-
yur. It was like walking through the stacks of one of our mod-
ern large libraries. Each of the large wooden blocks was carved
by hand, and its printing as perfect as that done by our ma-
chinery. In the rooms below there were the workshops in which
the carvers were at this moment making the blocks for the
printing of the biography of the late Dalai Lama.
In order to touch on all sides of life, we visited the Tibetan
prison, which reminded one of a trap to catch a man-eating lion j
it was filled with wretched, withered souls, trotting about with
shackled limbs. We entered into a conversation with one poor
fellow. He told us that he had stolen a couple of charm boxes
about five years ago, and he had no idea when he would be
released. What actually happens is that the Government forgets
whom they had put in and for how long, which means that once
in, always in, unless one day the Government decides to win a
The Forbidden City
little grace by releasing some of its prisoners j and on so auspi-
cious a day any man may be the lucky one. Just as we were about
to leave, we heard faint echoes which emanated from a still
lower dungeon, a crying soul was going through the ritual that
he might gain happiness in the next life. It turned out to be a
friend of Tharchin's, who had once been very powerful, and
had the reputation of being a fine scholar to boot.
8
The following day began with an appointment at seven. It
is indeed never too early to call on a Tibetan. Our host was to
be a young man scarcely twenty years of age. On hearing of our
arrival he had come promptly to pay his respects, offering his
friendship. I was eager to avail myself of it, for it offered me
an opportunity to learn something of the mind of native youth,
whose turn would come later to maintain the customs and
traditions of the land.
Any time is tea-time here, as I have already said. And one
must always take this fact into consideration, that one will drink
enough tea to see him through several reincarnations. Fifty cups
are a modest beginning, if you go in for it at all. If you are an
ordinary tea drinker, you may consume some twenty cups in the
course of a meal, which is spread over several hours. And you
take a half dozen cups with each brief call you make. To refuse
renewed helpings of tea when your cup is empty is regarded as
an insult to your host, so if you are clever you learn artfully to
sip, and it becomes a game as to how little you can get away
with. You'd be astonished as to really how little.
Our young host had a cup of tea in front of him virtually the
whole time, as he sat nervously on the edge of an English chair
by a Western table, which I had provided, and continually
reached for the cookies which we had brought. It was refreshing
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Penthouse of the Gods
to see that he was no exception to the rule that all boys eat. He
ate because he was hungry, and he consumed cup after cup of
tea because he was thirsty. And all the while he flung questions
at us, fast, like a child. Unlike the Tibetan adult, who on first
meeting will limit his conversation to matters relating to your
journey, reserving more serious and intimate conversation for
the time when he has learned to know you and trust you, this
boy promptly plunged into a frank, natural exchange of ques-
tions and answers with an ease which at once established us on
a footing of friendship.
No sooner had we left our amiable host than we hurried to
keep an appointment at the home of Tethong Shape. A charm-
ing personality, he was, I understood, one of the most influen-
tial men in the country. He had made his way from the bottom,
as a clerk, to the very top of political leadership. It was quite
different during our visit to Pondrong Shape. In order to finish
up all the official calls on that day I contented myself on this
visit with the usual formal greeting: I presented my scarf
and thanked him for being allowed to visit the Holy City.
He had one of the most enviable house shrines that I had yet
seenj it was just the kind I should love to have for my personal
use; its size and shape and everything about it gave me untold
pleasure. Its images represented a lavish outlay of jewelled
wealth, and its carvings were priceless. It must be remembered
that a Tibetan will concentrate on his shrine as on no other ob-
ject. What an infinite amount of wealth is stored away in the
form of these jewelled shrines all over Tibet! An important
official, he was a tall lean man, full of enthusiasm and vitality.
Our talk revolved mostly around my projected tour through
Eastern Tibet and China. He had originally come from that
part of the country himself, and recently some friends of his
newly come from there reported fierce fighting between the
Tibetans and Chinese 5 at the same time bandits roamed up
The Forbidden City
and down the country killing all travellers* But if I insisted on
taking that route he said he would do everything in his power
to procure permission for me to do so.
The Tethong Shape's lean and wrinkled face deeply ex-
pressed a hidden sadness behind his twinkling eyes. Having
remarked about this to some one I was later told that he had but
lately lost his wife, a woman he had loved greatly. She had
been a dose companion of his, and he had grown dependent on
her affection. "*"
Next we went to the "Cathedral," the Jo-Khmg, Tsug-lag-
Khang, or "the House of the Master/' which are the names
by which the chief temple is known in Tibet. It was erected in
652 A.D. by King Srong-tsan-Gampo to shelter some images
brought in by his Buddhist wife, a daughter of the contempo-
rary Emperor of China, the chief of these images, supposed
to represent Buddha at the age of twelve, is actually ensconced
here in the Holy of Holies, and it is the aspiration of every
devout man in Tibet to make an offering before it at least once
in his life.
^K
The entrance of this small two-story building with gildel
pagoda-like roof is marked by two large purple prayer-barrels,
with the mystical symbol in gilt, and countless devotees storing
up their virtue for the next life in front of the doorway. These
persons have a wide board the length of themselves with a pad
in the middle and bare on either side, with two small hand pads
which they use to slide from a standing position to one of hum-
ble prostration and then slide back again, only again and again
to repeat the process} all this is accomplished very quickly and
conveniently. In the matter of penance or the acquisition of vir-
tue they may do this a hundred thousand or ten hundred thou-
sand times in a lifetime. Apart from the entrance, there is vir-
Penthouse of the Gods
tually no light to be had within the enclosed passageway. There
is a large hall that goes completely around the inner room, and
down the center of this lane, which is decorated on both sides
with religious murals, is a row of prayer-barrels, these barrels
being small cylinders of about eight inches in diameter and a
foot and a half high, on which is inscribed the mystic symbol.
The custom is first to circumambulate this inner shrine and
store up treasures in Heaven by revolving these prayer-wheels
while repeating the sacred mass. After this you enter the dark
inner passageways, guarded by a burning bowl of butter for a
torch held at your feet by the monk escort. Incidentally, this
inner hall goes around the central image of the temple.
Upstairs the mother of the religion takes the honored place,
as does the youthful figure of the Lord Buddha below. None
of the images is particularly impressive, and all are filthy and
hidden in a thick gloom. Most of the images were of much
coarser workmanship than any I had yet encountered. The thing
that first caught my attention among the upper shrines was the
smell of mice, and when my eyes accommodated themselves to
the gloom I could see thousands of these rodents darting in and
out among and over the images. One room was filled with
weapons of all sorts, such as matchlock guns, spears, helmets
and arms of the fourteenth century. Several monks were beat-
ing their drums and carrying on the never-ending ritual, while
they sat amongst this teeming swarm of mice. And so we left
this dungeon of worship and refreshed our souls with a breath
of air in the eternal sunlight.
Up on the roof I made the discovery that I would not be
permitted to go before the sacred image before I had passed
through the ceremony to be held before long. Hurried prepa-
rations were being then made for it. It was necessary that 1
should pass through these ceremonies of purification before 1
would be permitted to worship in the Holy of Holies.
[178]
The Forbidden City
At no great distance from this sacred place of pilgrimage is
a smallpox edict, shaded by a large weeping willowj under
the same tree stands the old Treaty Pillar, or Daring. The
edict which protects one against the horrible disease, which
has ravaged so many persons in this community, has his face
almost worn away by endless small cuts and marks made by
those asking for protection.
Regardless of the time of day that you visit this open market
place neighboring on the holy temple, there is an unceasing
human stream pouring in and out of the edifice of worship and
there are always a number of persons to be found in attitudes of
prostration in front of it, even while the rest of the populace
dodge in and out among the dead carcasses of dogs or walk
around the almost dead humans, in order to look over the wares
which are strewn about the street under the canopies of canvas,
imported from India. The scene differs little from any Oriental
bazaar j only the faces are not the same. The Tibetan merchant
is not the aggressive personality you encounter elsewhere j he
will not importune you in the forcible manner you encounter
in India, and more particularly at Kashmir. The native mer-
chant, whether man or woman, has usually some other occupa-
tion besides, and the making of a sale is no life and death mat-
ter. It helps, to be sure, and while waiting for a sale he or she
will sit around and spin and knit and sew, or smoke, or chat
with a friend,
On almost every corner there is a dog curled up asleep, usu-
ally a creature with scarcely enough life in him to stir. You
have to walk around him.
10
We were late foj/tiffin. jit did not matter much, as I had left
word that we might be. In any event, my hosts insisted that I
[ 179]
Penthouse of the Gods
come and go at my own pleasure, as though it were my own
home and my own servants.
As it turned out, I was left to dine alone with the Lacham.
It left me at a loss at first as to what to do with myself. I had,
however, a marvellous meal and a fine conversation, surprising
indeed in view of my lingual limitations. And I was mightily
encouraged to hear her say to Tharchin, when he appeared af-
ter lunch, that we had talked about everything and that I ac-
quitted myself uncommonly well.
It surely meant a great deal to me to live in the home of one
of the potentates of Tibet. Not only did it enable me to pick up
the language at a rapid rate, but also it taught me all the little
things of their life which mean much in any association with
the men and women of a country. Who if not the persons in
the house in which I was a privileged guest would have taken
the trouble to instruct me never to cross my legs in front of a
high official? Since I was living according to their customs it was
essential that I should observe all such minor details, which
seemr unimportant yet count for so much. Not that I learned
about the management of my legs in front of a high official be-
forehand. Indeed, I actually committed this gross breach of
Tibetan social behavior before I learned of my error. I hap-
pened to be visiting an official} I sat on a Western chair with
my legs crossed. He was sitting to my right, and I had my left
leg crossed over my right knee. All of a sudden I observed his
eyes travelling down to the floor. I tried to gather my wits about
me, wondering what could be wrong. I could find nothing.
Thoughts raced througbmy mind, for there was certainly some-
thing strange in that downward scrutiny. Ignorant of its cause
and meaning, I took the precaution of uncrossing my legs, and
for the remainder of the visit sat with my feet flat on the floor.
Later I made inquiries, and was told that the native custom for-
bade a person to point his foot toward a high official. It would
[180]
The Forbidden City
have been quite proper, however, to have crossed my right
knee over my left, and thus have the foot pointing away rather
than toward him,
In time, of course, the practice of such native customs be-
comes a matter of routine. Not less important is it to learn the
formalities of religion. It is an education in itself to know how
to point one's hand, how to handle objects of a devotional na-
ture, how to conduct oneself in a sacred shrine: indeed, to know
all these numerous minor details acquired by cultured Tibetans
from their earliest childhood. As I was trying to learn the in-
ner ritual of Buddhism it was absolutely essential that I should
know how to manipulate all the necessary gestures correctly, all
the more as I was in the precarious position of one who was ac-
cepted as the reincarnation of an ancient Tibetan saint, and was
therefore expected to have remembered many of the details
from my past reincarnation. To be sure, I was allowed the op-
portunity first to regain contact with the memories of this old
soul, and this, it was assumed, would come about by means of
the various initiations through which I should have to pass.
ii
Tsarong Shape having returned that night, Tharchin decided
that it was high time that he began taking his meals apart, so
that I might be forced to use my Tibetan upon my hosts. I had
a feeling of misgiving, hut it turned out to be a pleasant sur-
prise. Though I had a vocabulary well over three thousand
words, the great problem was to string together the proper com-
binations to make sentences and sense. My trouble was the
fear of saying anything at all. Yet I had to talk, and my gen-
erous hosts, realizing my embarrassment, helped me along in
every manner possible, occasionally, to ease the situation, mak-
ing the effort to speak a few English words.
[181]
Penthouse of the Gods
I looked forward to having two months at least of this very
necessary experience. But I realized that I should have to ob-
tain an extension of my existing invitation of three weeks for
that length of time. If I could manage to have the summer in
Lhasa I could continue my studies here at the source of Tibetan
culture, an inestimable advantage over the alternative of pur-
suing the same studies in India.
At the same time I was very much concerned about obtaining
the permission to continue my journey to Pekin instead of re-
turning to India. There was no record of any one having ever
travelled from India to Pekin via Lhasa, and this thought acted
as a spur. Moreover, there was the additional incentive of an
opportunity to procure copies of the Kangyur and Tengyur in
Eastern Tibet, if I failed to procure them here, at this moment
the chances of this seemed slim. I was, in fact, far more inter-
ested in obtaining these books than in travel for travel's sake.
The end was everything, the means of little consequence. Had
it been possible for me to fly into Lhasa and out again without
seeing an inch of the country, it would have contented me, pro-
vided of course I had been able to procure the things I so much
desired, the spiritual knowledge these people possessed. I was
here because they could teach me the discipline and the wisdom
that were theirs, and to gain this I was ready to walk to the ends
of the earth. I wanted to incorporate them into my own life. I
was asking for much from their point of viewj on the other
hand, I felt that as my order had stood me in good stead so far
I might reasonably count on my luck continuing. Not that I was
unaware that to gain any permission from the Tibetan Govern-
ment was just as uncertain as the weather. In any case, there
was the chance that I might be permitted to go to Shigats6 and
on to Saskya in Western Tibet, the original centre of Tibetan
culture. As for being allowed to go to China, the prospect was
not promising, as the Government might not wish to take the
The Forbidden City
responsibility of my falling into the hands of roving bandits in-
festing the countryside.
12
Now that the official calls had been made, it was time to make
plans for the various religious ceremonies which were to be per-
formed in my honor, making this pilgrimage to the Holy City
one of the most enriching experiences of my life. My prime pur-
pose in coming to Lhasa was to carry out the various forms of
Buddhistic worship. After consulting with Tsarong, I notified
the Kashag of my desire, and the Kash&g sent out an official
notice to the various monasteries, which would appoint the aus-
picious day and make due preparations for the great occasion.
About the same time I paid my respects to the Chinese of-
ficials living in Lhasa. They were very friendly. One of them,
a very young man, was training to be a Lama. He and I had an
interesting conversation on the intricacies of Buddhistic logic.
.He spoke a very fluent English, and before long we were deep
Jtt a discussion of the teachings of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle.
This Chinaman learned English in*one"6f the English schools
in China, but he also spoke Tibetan and the various Indian Hia-
lects. He nourished the ambition of compiling a Chinese-Tibetan
dictionary, as soon as he managed to learn all that was necessary
in these parts. In most instances it takes the Tibetan about fif-
teen years to complete his course of study in one of the mon-
asteries, and when he is finished he is usually forty years of
age 5 there is the exception who manages to do it in the early
thirties. We in the Western world grudge the years spent in
what is thought to be useless study required for a degree, but
here almost a lifetime is spent in mere preparation for work.
More than that: they are actually enthusiastic about it, and often
work their way to it of their will and desire. The old adage
"haste makes waste" is no empty phrase here.
[183]
Penthouse of the Gods
The typical Chinese official, wearing a black Chinese robe and
black slippers, sitting in a Western chair, with his legs crossed
and his hands with long fingernail on the tiny finger, he told
me o the historical background of China's control of Tibet,
with its various ups and downs. It was to be seen between the
lines why they were trying to win their way back through care-
ful diplomatic negotiations. Today Tibet remains an inde-
pendent nation, isolated from the rest of the world. He assured
me that I should have little difficulty in entering China, and
that he would immediately send a wireless message to Nanking
to secure a visa for my entrance. The only thing left to be done
was to obtain the permission of the Tibetan Government. Yet
this permission was not a thing to be taken for granted.
CHAPTER VII
SHRINES, AND MORE SHRINES
THE new day held the prospect of a visit to the Dalai
Lama's Norbhu Linga, or "The Jewelled Park, 35 where
we had been invited to appear at twelve o'clock. Every-
thing being under lock, it was necessary to give two day's notice
to the Kashag to make possible the arrangements for our visit.
Eager for the opportunity to worship at the private shrine of
the late Dalai Lama, I kept an eye on the clock, allowing an
hour for the ride to the beautiful park beyond the city, which
harbors the home of the Dalai Lama. The matter of time is
quite involved in Tibet and Lhasa, for here they have Sun
Time, Daylight Saving Time, Indian Standard Time, Calcutta
Standard Time, Potala Time, and a mixture of various Lhasa
Times j so it was important to start well in advance in order to
meet any of the Times, since there is a little over an hour's
difference between these various Times.
The park is a little over a mile beyond the city. The country-
side surrounding the place consists of a dense growth of willows.
Actually, it is a jungle swamp of trees which forms a densely
shaded boulevard for about a quarter of a mile to an entrance
of typical Chinese design, carved and painted in the royal colors
of the native faith. This leads to the old palace, which has been
the home of all the past Dalai Lamas but the last, who built a
new one for himself. This palace is situated at the back of the
large enclosure surrounded by a wall of solid rock of about
[185]
Penthouse of the Gods
twelve feet high. I have no idea of its exact size, but I should
say that it would require a full day to walk about its spacious
grounds j that is, if you did it rather briskly. This great enclo-
sure holds innumerable isolated houses, extensive stables, end-
less gardens, runways for favorite animals, such as tigers, leop-
ards, bears, monkeys and deer, and a very large bird-cage for
peacocks and several other varieties of birds with which I am
not familiar. There were also endless winding paths, perfumed
by flowering gardens} I warrant you that the great leaders of
the faith hugely enjoyed their afternoon strolls. And I doubt
if they ever exceeded the most leisurely pace.
The entrances are guarded by a large Tibetan military force,
which has an extensive cantonment adjoining the domicile of
the most important Buddhist Viceroy on earth. This structure
was built by my friend Tsarong, and we paid it a brief visit
and offered our scarves to the grounds that the Dalai Lama
used when he instructed his military forces and received coun-
sel from his officials. It is a fact worth recording that the
Tibetans seem never to have permitted their divine ruler to
know of anything but the beauty existing on this material plane,
and withheld from his sight the suffering of those souls who
were suppliants of his blessings for the next life.
We dismounted outside the rear entrance which leads directly
to the new palace at the rear of the enclosure. A short lane bor-
dered with towering trees led from this entrance to the entrance
or patio of the late Dalai Lama's palace. Beyond the entrance,
a stirring sight, there appeared the even more impressive vision
of a modest dwelling, its gilded roof blazing in the sun. This
was topped by the conventional tokens that mark the building
of such a precious soul, along with the eight lucky symbols and
spiritual lightning rods at the corners. Only the roof over the
Dalai Lama's tomb at the Potala surpassed this in beauty. The
inner patio was paved with stone slabs, relieved by small open-
[186]
Penthouse of the Gods
twelve feet high. I have no idea of its exact size, but I should
say that it would require a full day to walk about its spacious
grounds} that is, if you did it rather briskly. This great enclo-
sure holds innumerable isolated houses, extensive stables, end-
less gardens, runways for favorite animals, such as tigers, leop-
ards, bears, monkeys and deer, and a very large bird-cage for
peacocks and several other varieties of birds with which I am
not familiar. There were also endless winding paths, perfumed
by flowering gardens} I warrant you that the great leaders of
the faith hugely enjoyed their afternoon strolls. And I doubt
if they ever exceeded the most leisurely pace.
The entrances are guarded by a large Tibetan military force,
which has an extensive cantonment adjoining the domicile of
the most important Buddhist Viceroy on earth. This structure
was built by my friend Tsarong, and we paid it a brief visit
and offered our scarves to the grounds that the Dalai Lama
used when he instructed his military forces and received coun-
sel from his officials. It is a fact worth recording that the
Tibetans seem never to have permitted their divine ruler to
know of anything but the beauty existing on this material plane,
and withheld from his sight the suffering of those souls who
were suppliants of his blessings for the next life.
We dismounted outside the rear entrance which leads directly
to the new palace at the rear of the enclosure. A short lane bor-
dered with towering trees led from this entrance to the entrance
or patio of the late Dalai Lama's palace. Beyond the entrance,
a stirring sight, there appeared the even more impressive vision
of a modest dwelling, its gilded roof blazing in the sun. This
was topped by the conventional tokens that mark the building
of such a precious soul, along with the eight lucky symbols and
spiritual lightning rods at the corners. Only the roof over the
Dalai Lama's tomb at the Potala surpassed this in beauty. The
inner patio was paved with stone slabs, relieved by small open-
[186]
Shrines, and More Shrines
ings for the endless flowers, now in bloom, hollyhocks and roses
predominating.
We were greeted by a short, small, roily-poly, stoop-shoul-
dered monk, garbed in his reddish-brown homespun robe of
excellent quality, and also a lay official, a chubby, upright-look-
ing fellow, wearing a yellow robe of officialdom. They both
gave us a hearty welcome over inevitable cups of tea.
After the restful tea we began our tour of these sacred
grounds. Every object used by the late Dalai Lama and every
flower lane that had been trodden by his feet was considered
blessed, and there was no higher blessing than to be able to
touch anything which had a contact with his body} so through-
out the visit we were continually placing the precious objects
to our heads while repeating our mantras.
We started from the bottom, first visiting the stables which*
were situated in the palace grounds. They were large enough to
stall over a hundred of the finest selected ponies, of the small
Mongolian type, imported from China. I had visited in India
many of the stables of the maharajahs, but these were far more
impressive. It was all as clean as the inside of a house, and each
stall had a large religious painting on the wall over the feeding-
box.
From here we wound our way through the garden jungle,
which is gradually covering the flowers almost to the main
throne where the late Dalai Lama used to sit. It was his audi-
ence chamber, a moderately large room about the size of a small
dining hall in a private house, whose four walls revealed one
encompassing mural portraying the life of Buddha and the re-
ligion coming to Tibet, early Lhasa, and the guardians of the
religion} the whole forming a design rich in its blaze of color.
[187]
Penthouse of the Gods
There were various deities cast in gold, covered with silk bro-
cades and jewels.
There was no room in the palace that failed to stir something
in that part of us we call the soul. Among these places designed
for reflection was a small penthouse built out in the middle of
an artificial lake, which was filled with fish and Brahminy ducks.
In no instance was any of these rooms large, this one being about
the size of the usual waiting room in a dentist's or a doctor's
officej there was just enough space to hold the Dalai Lama's
floor seat and two chok-tses (Tibetan tables) in front and suf-
ficient room for seats to make a couple of visitors comfortable
before a small shrine, a gem of its kind, adorned with carved
images of coral, turquoise and jade. A small desk, brought, I
suppose, from India, seemed incongruous amidst its surround-
ings. The common hue of all the rooms was that of gold, with
deep reds, blues and greens to relieve its brilliance. Every room
had its own shrine, and each shrine vied with the others ir\ ar>*
tistic merit. jr
When we had finished with the old section, we found a
Tibetan lunch waiting for us a surprise. The Lamas apologized
profusely for the modesty of the meal, consisting of a mere fif-
teen dishes, which we ate on the front porch of the new palace
before going through its rooms. We feasted to the chant of a
ceremony which is performed daily in the audience hall. The
leisurely repast over, I was hungry for more sightseeing, and
never was a sightseer offered a finer feast. To be reincarnated
into such a majestic station in life as the Dalai Lama had been is
surely an unique privilege conferring rare honor, the devotional
esteem of a whole people. The Dalai Lama, indeed, is reputed
to be the reincarnation of Chen-re-zi. The image of this popular
and exalted being is always the central figure usually in the
form of chagton-chentog, with a thousand hands and a thousand
eyes and eleven heads, but here we found him in the form of
[188]
Shrines, and More Shrines
Dugkar, with a thousand hands, a thousand eyes, and a thou-
sand heads, The images were all life-size. A single glance at
this figure stirred my emotions indescribably. It gave me the
sort of feeling I usually experienced on reaching the top of a
mountain or on being struck in the face by a cool breeze on re-
laxing in a heated sweat of exhaustion to behold the majesty
slumbering here below. Here I experienced the same reaction,
without the sweat. The room above the audience hall contained
the life-sized figure of the Dalai Lama, and beside him were
his protectors and inspirers. It would be an experience rare
enough in any lifetime to spend one of life's short cycles of
light and darkness in any one of these sanctuaries with a fully
awakened consciousness. Already I had an inlrlmg that I was
being spoiled for any other existence j the desire was growing
in me for such a meditative chamber, which by its very nature
and design is calculated to induce a human being to collect the
inner forces of consciousness.
With this we bade our guides good-bye, and proceeded down
the same lane in which the worshipped soul was wont to stroll
in his garden, with his great mastiffs chained to their posts
for the protection of his holiness. I was told that during his
lifetime one never heard the voice of a child herej indeed, it
was customary for miles around this sacred park for people
to speak in whispers, so that his meditations might not be
disturbed.
3
There is nothing that the Tibetan loves more than a feast or
a picnic, and all business and work will be called off for such an
event. The fact is, I was contemplating giving a party for all
the officials of the Government and the other high personages
of the Holy City, but I heard that the Regent never attended
such affairs. Tsarong,.however, did approach him on my behalf,
[189]
Penthouse of the Gods
and received the answer that it would indeed be a pleasure, and
that, moreover, I could use his quarters for such a party. He
would be leaving in a few days for his monastery and would re-
turn in about a month or so, when he would give a feast for me.
K did not look as if my own party would come off, for I was
guest in the Holy City and they all insisted that it was their
pleasure to entertain me. Never elsewhere did I encounter such
hospitality. Every one in the city insisted upon doing every-
thing that was possible for me, every one was concerned for my
comfort.
One afternoon one of our servants announced that a Lama
from the monastery had come to see me. I was beginning to be
aware that the words "smile" and "Lama" were synonymous;
I had yet to see a Lama whose face failed to radiate a smile for
which we would gladly pay a million in this country. He was
draped in the customary robes of a reddish brown homespun
cloth, which left one arm bared to the shoulder. He lent a sense
of life to the flowing drapery which was folded into graceful
lines about his body. His head was close-shaven, as is the cus-
tom of all the Lamas of the Yellow sect. His face revealed
definite Mongolian characteristics, while his eyes twinkled with
that spark that comes only with years of meditation and the
solitude of understanding. He had travelled very widely over
Siberia, Mongolia, China, and India, as well as Tibet, and he
was very anxious to go on to Moscow, where he wished to learn
Russian, having already mastered the languages of the other
countries to the extent of being able to write perfectly in their
languages. In spite of his travels and erudition, he was ex-
tremely timid, but ready to laugh on every provocation.
He left after a couple of hours, as he had several miles to
walk in order to return to his monastery, but he promised to
return to continue our discussion of his travels and of the spread
of Buddhism in Asia. He expressed himself as very anxious to
[190]
Shrines, and More Shrines
help me. Why he came was a mystery to me. After his depar-
ture I spent some time in trying to fathom as to who could pos-
sibly have told him so much about me, and why he was so will-
ing to be my guide. He offered to come and live with me dur-
ing my stay in Lhasa and help me in all my work. Such things
are bound to baffle a stranger travelling in this country, for
from time to time some one pops up, some one who seems to
drop in from the blue and knows all about youj indeed, knows
more than you can possibly tell him. He is fully aware what
you want to do, and he makes every suggestion ahead of time
as to what he can do to help you. At the moment I merely
accepted it as one of the mysteries of the country.
Before many days I visited the famous temple of the Ram-
moche, reputed to be the second most holy temple of Tibet, in
which the celebrated image of Buddha, brought by the Nepalese
spouse of King Srong-tsan Gampo, was enshrined. The Ram-
moche was rather less impressive than I anticipated. The only
thing of consequence, it seemed to me, was the main image
whose cell was protected by a large hanging mesh screen of
iron, which is bolted down. The nave was virtually nothing but
a continuous aisle of cushions, which would be filled up with
monks at the time of my ceremony. After offering my k&ta to
the sacred image, which was covered with the customary wealth
of jewels, very crudely carved, I circumambulated this enor-
mous cell three times by means of the narrow dark passage-
way that led around it.
From there I passed around the entire temple, with its end-
less row of prayer-wheels, which I went on turning, so that vir-
tue might be stored up in Heaven for me.
Then I visited a minor temple near the Tsug-Iag-khang, with
[191]
Penthouse of the Gods
Guru Rimpoche as the chief deity. There were many lesser dei-
ties at the altar, the forms of which I had not seen before.
More and more I was impressed with the sheer quantity of
unstudied material here at the disposal of the scholar who
wished to make an intensive study of Buddhist art and litera-
ture. And it occurred to me that, with the foundation I was lay-
ing for myself, I might some day want to return and do some
specialized work for the sake of a world eager for a knowledge
of these things. Tibetan culture has a direct relation to the
rest of Oriental culture, and it has exercised an influence on
world culture, but no one has yet measured the extent of this
influence.
For the time being, however, I had no alternative but to stick
to the main purpose for which I had come, and this was to ac-
quire the requisite spiritual training.
On this particular morning at seven-thirty the room was be-
ginning to be filled with people, and everything was hurry and
bustle, in preparation for the party of the day. All objects had
been removed from the room, after which the army of servants
began piling up great stacks of mats, which were to be spread
out on the floor around the low Tibetan tables and covered with
rugs.
In the circumstances, it was impossible to continue my work.
Besides, I was shortly expecting a barber to come and give me
a haircut for the occasion} for I was beginning to look like a
jungle man. A certain quantity of hair might be excused, be-
cause of my beard, but there is a limit to such things, and I felt
that I had exceeded it. The barber turned up, but without his
scissors. He dashed out of the room, and reappeared within a
few minutes, leaving me to assume that he produced his imple-
[ 192]
Shrines, and More Shrines
ments out of a hat. My curiosity as to the nature o these im-
plements was soon aroused, for I felt a tugging around my
scalp and a grinding next to my ear. When I finally had an op-
portunity to catch a glimpse of them I discovered, to my amused
horror, that the so-called barber was using ordinary garden
shears!
While our own party was being prepared, Tsarong and I,
accompanied by Tharchin, started for the Regent's party. I felt
the need of Tharchin's presence as interpreter. I was still too
timid to try my luck at conversation with so divine a dignitary,
even though he expressed the wish that I make the attempt,
promising to make allowances for my linguistic deficiencies. He
said that was the only way to learn, and offered to correct me
every time I went wrong. It was a gay procession. Tsarong was
in his best, attired in a gown of gold, seated like a little Napo-
leon on a very large horse, astride a Tibetan saddle reminiscent
of those used by the knights of King Arthur's Court, with rugs
and trappings of the most beautiful Oriental design. The horse
was as handsomely adorned as the rider, and wore a half crown
of jewels as a part of his caparison. A retinue of servants accom-
panied us. Before the advance of our tiny cavalcade the popu-
lace in the bazaars of Lhasa scattered to left and right, bowing
graciously at the same time.
On entering the audience hall of the Regent, Tsarong recog-
nized the divinity of his king with the customary devotional
prostration of humility, but from then on he was himself, direct,
outspoken, and fiery. The Regent had a small table arranged
for himself, and a raised row of Tibetan mats next to the wall
of glass overlooking his flowering garden. A short distance from
this, and parallel with it, was a larger table for the guests,
which consisted of our party, a Lama, and two boys, one of
whom was quite small. I was under the impression that they
were kinsmen of the Regent. This table was covered with yel-
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low silk brocade with a design of black silk. The small boy
looked as if he had been playing in a Tibetan alleyway} I felt
sure that water had not touched him for months on end} his
skin and clothes were far beyond the point of being merely
dirty. It is a real experience to dine in such a place, where the
best of Tibet is to be met with, and to have the jolt of long un-
washed arms stretched out before you helping themselves to
the food, but a Lama is a Lama for all that, washed or un-
washed, in the Regent's house or elsewhere. The Regent him-
self wore spotless robes of yellow silk.
We seated ourselves to the endless helpings of Tibetan tea,
served with silk napkins. The Regent's napkin was a beautiful
yellow silk on one side, and a plain white on the other. This
was supposed to be only a light lunch, but the dishes kept com-
ing in numbers that I could not keep up with. I learned, how-
ever, how to nibble like a rabbit for hours, without permitting
much to enter. This is the only way to survive in Tibet. Noth-
ing could be more fatal than to take a generous helping of any-
thing that is particularly pleasing to the palate, bearing in mind
the fact that no meal is ever offered that includes less than fifteen
dishes. While there is no doubt that the Regent was a highly
spiritual person, with a slender, emaciated body, and stood only
five feet eight, he gave every indication of having an appetite
good enough for a growing boy.
During the conversation I had with the Regent, he informed
me that my request to be allowed to make my exit by way of
China was granted. He also told me that they were very anxi-
ous to give me every opportunity to secure a set of Tibetan
scriptures. If I may put it bluntly, I consider it Hell to live in
a place where people would think you had gone mad if you
should break out into paeans of joy} I had indeed to content
myself by saying very quietly that I thought it considerate of
them, after which I proceeded with my meal outwardly un-
Shrines, and More Shrines
perturbed but inwardly afire over my good fortune. The Re-
gent also asked me to furnish him with a complete list of things
I wanted, and he promised that he would make every effort to
have them found for me. There was every indication that they
would be outright gifts, furnished me in order that I might use
them in my work on my return to America.
When I left him, the generous Regent presented me with
a long white silk k&ta^ and also with a small piece of red silk,
with which he tied the triple knot and placed it around my
neckj it is one of the highest honors that one can receive in
Tibet and is awarded only by their most holy Lanias. Then he
made me a lovely offering of a small image of Buddha, and of
a large Tibetan book wrapped in beautiful yellow silk. It turned
out to be a very fine one, with each page inscribed with a design
of a different deity. It is the custom to have such images only on
the first few pages, but rarely on every page.
Now that I had been allowed to remain here another two
months, it gave me pleasure to think that I should be able to
see the Regent several times upon his return from his monas-
tery. In the meantime, I had to hurry home, for there was yet
my own party before me at tea-time.
Norbhu, who had but lately arrived in Lhasa, was already
at the house chatting with Mrs. Tsarong. Presently, the other
guests began to arrive. Oddly enough, it was a Chinese official
who reminded me that it was my own national holiday, July
Fourth, and, indeed, he had taken the trouble to bring me a
kata in honor of the day, congratulating me at the same time
on belonging to a free people which had had the sense to throw
off the shackles of the outworn forms of the Middle Ages. I
could think of no finer way of celebrating the day than by sit-
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Penthouse of the Gods
ting at a table at which six nationalities Chinese, Nepalese,
SikSrimese, English, Tibetan, and American were represented.
Eighteen languages in all were at our disposal, but we confined
our conversation to English and Tibetan. The fact is, nearly
every one at the table could speak English, a fair indication
that English comes pretty near to being the universal language.
There were sixteen persons in the party, and the servants
brought up the number to over forty. There were pots of tea
boiling in all parts of the house, in order to serve all.
Now that the parties were coming to an end I was settling
down to work. Lhasa being a literary center of Tibet harbored
many scholars and attracted learned pilgrims. The prospect of
remaining here for the entire summer was, therefore, a propi-
tious one from my point of view. Lhasa, if you like, was a sort
of a clearing-house for all manner of Tibetan knowledge j here
it was possible to learn where in the land this or that manu-
script was to be found, or in which cave this or that teacher had
his abode.
Yet now and again there was a feast day, and something was
to be learned on such days too. There was a feast day when
officials could be seen hurrying to take part in the ceremonies,
and on this day Tsarong Lacham left the house in her finest
attire. She could scarcely walk because of the weight of the pre-
cious jewels. I held the camera in readiness until she came
down, and I took a picture of her in all her glory. Yet she said
that she was by no means at her best.
I had an orgy of photography at a neighboring park, in which
some of Tharchin's friends were making merry at a picnic. Here
in Lhasa, as elsewhere in Tibet, it is the fashion for folks to
leave their homes for a few days and have a grand picnic in the
park, but a mile or so away. We in the West usually think of
such outings in terms of hours, the Tibetans in terms of days.
The camping picnickers were greatly amused to see me at-
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tired in Tibetan dress. It seemed to put them at their ease with
me. As for me, I fully enjoyed the comfort of the roomy na-
tive clothing. It was again and again a bit trying for me to be
offered the inevitable tea-cup while I was taking pictures.
From here we walked through the grove of trees to the
banks of the beautiful Kyi-chu (Lhasa River). Instead of the
small stream I imagined it to be, I was surprised to find it a
broad river, which would have taxed my strength to throw a
stone across it in my best baseball days. On the banks of this
lovely river many villagers were washing their clothes, while
in the middle of the stream an occasional native boat could be
seen floating down the rapids, carrying wares of one sort or
another down to Chu-shu, where the river joins the Tsangpo-
chu, the mightiest river in all Tibet.
Several Lamas visited me to discuss preparations for the big
ceremony which was to come on the following Thursday. This
was to be the biggest religious event ever held in Lhasa, and
my own modest part in it would be to participate in my purifi-
cation initiation, which was eventually intended to give me con-
tact with my inner self. A particularly significant fact, and not
a little mysterious, too, was that the most learned Lama of
Lhasa sent word that he would officiate at this ceremony. It
seemed incredible. At the same time qualms seized me. Was I
sufficiently prepared to stand the test? Apparently they had
confidence in me, or they would not give me the opportunity. It
was absolutely essential that I should know all the formalities
to the minutest detail, so that nothing might interrupt the cere-
mony. It was to be another of those days of days, because
- never before had a foreigner been allowed to take part in a re-
ligious ceremony before the sacred shrine of the Tsug-lag-
khang, the holiest spot in all Tibet. What was it all going to
be like? What would happen to me? What depths was I to
sound?
Penthouse of the (Sods
My study for the day was topped off with a Chinese meal
that I am sure I shall never forget. Indeed, I arrived for the
meal at one-thirty and did not stop nibbling until five-thirty,
finishing up the thirty-sixth dish around five, after which some
rice was brought in and six more dishes of the fudge variety,
delicacies of their kind. If my stomach should survive this orgy,
which was more than I at the time expected, I calculated that it
had consumed enough food to last me all the way to China and
back again. The thirty guests, who included three Chinamen
and four Nepalese, the remainder being Tibetan Lamas and
officials, appeared to have a right gay time. During the meal I
had the pleasure of sitting next to Mondrol, whom I have al-
ready mentioned as having been one of the first to greet me on
my arrival in Lhasa with a gift from the Kashag. Speaking a
perfect English, he plied me with questions about America, and
as I was just as anxious to learn in my turn I plied him with
questions about his experiences. Our exchange of talk was con-
stantly interrupted by the arrival of a new dish, and, worse luck,
as the guest of honor, I always had to lead the way, and then
take a second helping to encourage the others.
During the feast a heavy rain came up and, to our delight,
cooled off things considerably, as well as settled the dust, which
was getting pretty bad, this being the unpleasant aspect of
Lhasa. Of even greater interest was the fall of heavy snow on
the peaks which surrounded the city. This heavy blanket of
snow on the mountains seemed to have no effect on the cli-
mate j the air was not by any means cooler, but it was certainly
clearer.
We left the feast filled with pig bladder, chicken gizzards,
fish stomachs, sea slugs, cuttle fish, birds' nests, and what not.
It all sounds terrible, but it tasted grand. 1 only wish it were
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possible for me to set a meal like this before my friends in
America.
8
Word came that preparations were being made for the great
ceremony to be held on the morrow in the Holy of Holiesj
moreover, that permission had been granted me to photograph
these preparations as well as the ceremony itself. So we made a
scramble for our cameras and promptly departed for Tsug-lu-
khang in order not to miss anything.
Within the precincts of a very small patio, situated within
the innermost part of the temple, some twenty or more Lamas
had gathered in order to knead 4000 pounds of barley flour
into innumerable specimens of a small sacred object known as
a torma,) which is shaped as though a cone had been placed on
a cylinder, the whole not unlike a miniature chorten. These are
used as offerings at the altar during all the ceremonies, after
which they are served as food to the Lamas. The place itself
was strongly reminiscent of a baker's shop, for the light was
being reflected in all directions by the multitude of sunbeams
diffusing the flour dust from these vats, which were being filled
from the great bin, into which the Lamas dove clear up to the
shoulder in the process of kneading it all into dough. Before
they began this process each and every one of them very me-
ticulously washed his hands and arms all the way to the
shoulders.
The first task was to measure out the necessary amount of
this sacred flour, which was done by one man dumping a sack
of flour into a small wooden trough, levelled off at the top with
a board, tapered at the end, in the hands of a Lama. The con-
tents of this were promptly dumped into another container,
which was used for the purpose of carrying it to the great shad-
owy flour bins, where the Lamas stood, as white as our own
Penthouse of the Gods
bakers, and were toiling away. They worked with astonishing
rapidity j in an incredibly short time they had the entire quan-
tity o flour ready for the mixers and kneaders to begin their
task. It took only about five men to do the measuring; the duty
of carrying the flour back and forth fell upon the women, who
were always brought in to do the heavy work. These women
and girls placed hundred-pound sacks on one another's backs
and walked away like piano movers. They disposed of their
burdens to men who mixed the flour with water, which was
brought in large wooden containers also by women. As soon as
the right consistency had been reached, great bulks of it were
rolled out in a contrivance made for the purpose. They all
puffed and heaved until it was all worked up into large dough-
balls of approximately thirty or forty pounds each. The next
step was to mould the emblem5 this was done in the same delib-
erate, systematic fashion as all the preliminary processes. When
finished, each torma stood about a foot high. The hands of the
bakers worked as rapidly as machinery on small wooden trays,
and as rapidly the tormas were whisked away, to make room
for the next batch. It took only half a day to complete this
task.
This, however, is only the beginning} for there is a like
amount of grain coming from over forty sacks, each weighing a
maundy or eighty poundsj the whole contents are measured out
into the thousand waiting copper bowls, which are then ar-
ranged on two rows of the surrounding altar. On the lower tier
they place one bowl on top of the other, while on the upper
tier they stack them up three high and then join them all by
placing incense sticks in each at angles, thus crossing the one
coming in the opposite direction from the bowl next to it. So
they form a holy lattice work, placing a small round flake of a
flower at the point where the two sticks of incense cross.
There is a similar time-consuming task in decorating the one
[ ZOO ]
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isand chortens with lovely butter designs, after they have
i placed in their proper positions. These chortens y instead of
g stuck on top of one another, are placed three deep on
row. Before these preparations are finished, there must
till another row arranged below all this, of a thousand
Is of sacred water; and as we were watching them getting
chortens ready, we came upon a large group of women
ered in a circle in sitting positions on the floor and polish-
ip the brass bowls to be used for the holy water,
bout five feet removed from this altar was a narrow table
ling the entire length of the altar, this table was to sus-
the thousand butter lamps. And the whole was designed
Drm a sacred lane through which only the purified might
. This sacred aisle enclosed the large open patio, where all
nonks would gather on their long, unrolled carpets to have
- tea and grain during the ceremony, which would keep
i engaged from the break of day until far into the night.
scrutinized the details of the inner temple I thought how
mate I was in that it had an open top, thus making it pos-
for me to take photographs. Later in the afternoon, how-
, when I returned to the patio to see how far the prepara-
5 had progressed, much to my surprise I found that they
covered the entire top with a beautiful hand-decorated can-
in order to keep out the rain and also the light.
( n hearing that the butter had arrived at the customary
z for its melting in large copper vats, ornate with their
Ided designs and inscriptions of mantras^ we sauntered off
tat direction in the hope that I might have a few shots with
:ameraj but as luck would have it, the rain had come, blot-
out the little light that might penetrate into the dark cham-
Nevertheless, I did make an effort to record the process of
hing the twenty and more bags of yak butter. In all they
sured out over two thousand pounds of butter in order to
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Penthouse of the Gods
feed these thousand sacred lamps to last through the entire
ceremony. I have an idea that electridty might be far cheaper,
because by the time this supply is brought from the great herds
of the Chang-tang (Northern plains) over a thousand miles
away, the price soars progressively. There was no way of telling
how old it was, but I may hazard the guess that the cows that
gave the milk for it were in all likelihood dead by now. As
soon as the butter is churned out it is all "hermetically" sealed
in yak-skin bags and headed toward Lhasa, where it is used for
such devotional purposes. Over ten thousand pounds of it are
used at this small shrine alone each month.
After it has all been weighed out and the records made, the
bags are carried and placed on the floor beside a great oven.
Then a fellow comes along, covered from head to foot with en-
crusted grease and soot, and with a blade in his hand larger
than any butcher knife we use at home; with all his might he
drives this blade into these black hairy bags, ripping them open.
On accomplishing this, he places them on a narrow ledge next
to the great boiling vat, under and around which was a roaring
blaze of burning cedars. With a large wooden spade he heaves
in the butter, then empties the barrel. After it is all melted
down, the butter is borne away in small jugs to the temple
about half a mile awayj here it is poured into containers hold-
ing a small wick and used for the lamps.
The only thing that is actually wasted is the butter, for it is
all consumed by the holy flame. The rest of the material, how-
ever, is distributed among the numberless monks who live at
the Rammoche. Some of it is even sold, and the money is used
to purchase necessities for the monastery. The grain used in the
baking of the ceremonial tormas is not wastedj indeed, it is
the staple food of the monks as it is of the lower class of Tibet.
Often, too, a Lama will take a small portion of this food and
walk out with it through the village of the Holy City and dis-
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tribute it to the very poor. Now and then he might visit a
prison and give a share of it to some of the forgotten souls. And
so these lavish ceremonies are, in a practical sense, not wholly
unproductive of good. They are, in fact, among the mechanisms
of society for the taking care of the poor and of their religious
fathers.
[203 ]
CHAPTER VIII
I AM INITIATED
A IN interlude to the events just described we met one of
our Tibetan friends and went to his place to have tea.
I had been there previously, but this was the first
time that I was taken to their sitting room, which was the
shrine of their personal deity, Chen-re-zi, that is the deity
which guides their personal belief. Besides this, there is always
the private temple of the house, and, when possible, it contains
a full set of Kangyur and Tengywr. Here the main image is
usually that of Buddha, with Guru Rimpoche on one side and
Tsong-Khapa on the other, this to substantiate the prophecy of
Buddha that he would bring forth the religion that is known
as the Gelupa cult today. If the host belongs to another sect,
the arrangement is naturally different, because Tsong-Khapa
is the founder of the Gelupas and belongs exclusively to the
members of this cult. In the present instance Chen-re-zi is of
importance, and his main figure on the altar embodies the prin-
ciples which are supposed to guide this deity's meditations. On
each side of him he is represented by other aspects of himself in
smaller images 5 and there will be other favored deities, notably
Guru Rimpoche. Such a shrine will probably cost in the neigh-
borhood of five thousand dollars. The cost, of course, wholly
depends on the size of the main image, the amount and quality
of the hand-carving, and the gold and jewels used. We spent
the entire tea-time discussing the various deities of the different
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I Am Initiated
sects, and my host appeared anxious to impart all possible in-
formation to me, since he considered me as one who would
carry the seed of truth embodied in their teachings back to my
country. Already regarded as a Buddhist by them, I enjoyed
their confidence, and all information, asked and unasked, was
freely forthcoming.
I had worked at top speed that morning to get things out of
the way so as to keep an appointment with Mr. Richardson
for an early dinner j he had promised to show me the finished
picture of Lhasa which had been taken by the British Mission
during the past winter. And in the evening over a leisurely
meal I had a long discussion with Mr. Fox concerning the
various teachings of the East, in which he was intensely inter-
ested. He was a Catholic, having been converted to the faith
after much unsatisfactory searching around among the dif-
ferent interpretations of Christian spirituality. He had lived
in India for over seventeen years and always held a lively in-
terest in native thought, though he had never had the leisure
to delve into its depths. A tolerant man, he seemed astonished
and not a little impressed when he heard about the beliefs held
in this section of the world. The rumor having spread that I
was a Buddhist making a pilgrimage to Lhasa, he was eager to
talk with me and to hear what I had to say about the teachings
of the faith. I remember stressing the fact that the ancient King
Asofca had about 250 B.C. contrived the most effective means
for exploiting these teachings, so that today we have forgotten
the philosophy which gave them life and are held in fetters of
emotional ignorance, maintained by ritual and organization.
The truth of the matter is, the mire of sanctified formality is
so deep today that it is next to impossible to find the original
gem that gave lustre to the faith.
After the meal there was a showing of movie films. Movies
in Lhasa seem incongruous. Yet the fact must be recorded. The
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Penthouse of the Gods
most interesting aspect o the showing was the large crowd of
Tibetans who filled the room. "Like sardines" this old image
should do. They were teeming at the door when we first came
down, and when the door was opened they swarmed in like an
army of migrating bees. The guests arranged themselves in the
chairs in the large dining room, while their servants flocked in
on the floor, crawling forward until they were sitting directly
beneath the screen itself j against the wall in the rear they clam-
bered over and upon one another's shoulders and stood up on
chairs or on any other piece of furniture within reach. It was
impossible to open enough windows j the atmosphere was sti-
fling. Mr. Richardson told me that these servants had seen the
same pictures on several previous occasions, yet every time he
showed them there was the same eagerness to be admitted.
They always enjoy seeing themselves in the picture, but it is
the Charlie Chaplin reel that brings the roof down, with Rin-
Tin-Tin as second favorite.
2'
The day of which I am writing, being the last day of the
Tibetan month, was considered auspicious for the ceremony of
Tsug-lag-khangj it was to mark my first purification cere-
mony. I hoped it would enable me to gain contact with my
inner self, which in this instance meant with that part of me
that had already lived before this lifej it was now commonly
accepted that I was the reincarnation of an ancient Tibetan saint
and had, therefore, come to them not as a disciple but as an
adept whose duty it was now to brush up the old subconscious
memory that would restore me to my real self returned to this
earth to continue my predestined mission.
At first their meaning eluded me, yet something within me
gave me a glimpse of the truth, and I knew that there was no
[206]
I Am Initiated
escape for me, that I could not but follow the inner urge which
would force the unconscious to break through the shell that
held it back from the mysterious hidden knowledge. I was as
excited about it as I had been over my first visit to school dur-
ing my early childhood.
The monks had started at daybreak the repetition of certain
required chants, preliminary to the ceremony. These chants
(had to be repeated a definite number of times, ranging into the
thousands} and a strict count was kept of the reading of the
particular formula. I imagine it was quite an ordeal. This for-
mula was one which I myself had requested, it being optional,
and the ceremony connected with it, according to my own de-
sire, demanded that the monks abstain from meat, and limit their
diet to tea, thukpa (porridge) and rice. It is the custom that
a portion of the food prepared for the ceremony be sent to the
devotee, and so early in the morning large quantities of it began
to pour in. The containers sent would easily hold ten gallons. A
like quantity of tea was sent along. I am sure the boys of the
house had all they could hold for a few days. I personally had
no desire to begin the diet at that particular moment, though
I must admit that it did not taste half as bad as it looked. In-
deed, I am convinced, one might get fat on it, and that it con-
tained sufficient nourishment for the maintenance of health,
once the palate got adjusted to its odd flavor.
It remained for me an unaccountable mystery why the great
T'ri Rimpoche himself, the precious holder of the throne,
should have chosen to officiate at my first initiation. He was
commonly accepted as the most learned Lama in all Tibet} he
had risen to this position through sheer effort of application,
and without the aid of a fortunate reincarnation. This one chair
is always open to candidates, and only the industrious are ever
able to attain its prestige} it ranks the holder only next to the
Dalai Lama himself, often officiating in his place when the
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Penthouse of the Gods
other is absent or indisposed 5 he often becomes the Regent of
Tibet.
That he should conduct the service for me was an honor I
had not anticipated. To give some relative idea of its signifi-
cance I might compare it to a marriage or some other ceremony
in the Christian faith being performed under the personal di-
rection of the most noted bishop in the land. The T'ri Rim-
poche spent most of his time in study and meditation and usu-
ally took charge only of the most important ceremonies. His
own training consisted of satisfying all the requirements of a
geshe y which is equivalent to our Ph.D., with the difference
that it takes about forty years on an average to attain it. Once he
has mastered these requirements, he is permitted to take up the
Tantrik teachings, which are the most guarded of all revela-
tions in Tibet} hence, one is never able to study them until
rather late in life.
The ceremony which awaited me was wholly of a Tantrik
character, and was therefore of the greatest interest to me.
Ceremonies of this kind are never performed in the monas-
teries. This temple, as it happens, is one in which people con-
vene for different types of service. Since it is the Holy of
Holies, it is considered the most sacred place in Tibet for
any service. Any ceremony held here demands the presence of
an officiating Lama. The formula which was being repeated by
the Lamas throughout the day contained some mantras which
were reputed to hold certain designated power which, after
the devotee had been fully prepared, would be practically in-
stilled into him, even though he might not be fully aware of
it at the time. The realization of the effect of these various
psychic endowments was supposed to come to him from a later
ceremony, for which all of these were but preliminary steps.
It was a great mystery to me why the Lamas came to me, and
why they arranged that I should go through all the ceremonies.
[208]
I Am Initiated
3
Shortly after breakfast the Tsarongs hurried me into a Ti-
betan costume, so that they might inspect me before my depar-
ture for the ceremonies. It was as if I were their child going off
to school for the first time, and they were anxious that there
should be no fault in my appearance. Their interest was truly
touching, for I was forever bothering them with questions and
appeals for help. In the end, however, they thought I looked
ship-shape, whereupon I took my departure in the company of
Tharchin, and my two "boys," Lhare and Norphel, who carried
my photographic equipment, I thought I might have an op-
portunity to make some sort of record of a part of the cere-
mony, and I did not want to miss the chance.
One matter to which I had to attend before leaving for the
temple was the writing of a long prayer, wishing health, wealth,
and happiness to all the world. This had to be composed ac-
cording to a set formula, and my name and nationality had to
be inserted. It was important to have it ready early, so that the
person who was to read it could have an opportunity to practice
reading it beforehand^ for they are so meticulous with all the
details of their ritual.
Full of excitement I left the house for one of the most ab-
sorbing experiences of my life. I had not the slightest notion
of what was going to happen. I must have felt as a Baptist feels
on having to go to a Catholic service. I was full of confidence,
however, having gone through a lot of mental rehearsing.
We entered the dark alleyway leading into the hall which
circumambulates the sacred shrine j here I made my three de-
votional rounds, turning the prayer-barrels and repeating the
sacred* formula: "Om! Ma~m $ad-me HHm^ J There was a
throng of wondering onlookers, who never before had laid eyes
on a European turning prayer-wheels in humble devotion. Be-
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Penthouse of the Gods
cause of my beard they could not quite guess my nationality,
and I detected the repeated whisper: "Who is he?" Outwardly,
at least, impervious to the attention I was attracting, I con-
tinued my devotional perambulations.
The T'ri Rimpoche had not yet arrived, so all the monks
about eight hundred of them were having a brief respite from
their discipline. The entire patio, so bare yesterday, was cov-
ered today with long lines of red homespun mats. The altar
next to the wall was attractively decorated with the vessels of
water, and with the tsampa chortens, which we had watched in
the making yesterday. The small altar in front made a narrow
aisle through which one might pass between the towering of-
ferings and the glowing flames of butter, which induced the
exuding of sweat if you ventured to linger. At the head of the
lines, under an immense canopy of canvas, was the high seat
of the head Lama, usually shut off when he was on it, so that
he might not be seen* A short distance in front, on both sides,
were the seats of the next four highest Lamas, two on either
side, one pair facing the other. The setting itself inspired awe.
It was very unpretentious and austere j its very simplicity in-
duced a subtle reverence.
A large mat was arranged for my seatj it was just a trifle
higher than the seats of the other attendants. And here for a
little while we relaxed over cups of tea until the head priest
arrived.
The intense silence of the empty assembly hall was broken
by the deep vibration of the melodious gong which had been
struck with a mallet. This was the signal for the monks to as-
semble, for the Lama had arrived and was already in his seat.
There was a muffled rush, and the rustle of homespun, as the
multitudinous monks hurried to their respective seats in their
silent shoes and expeditiously donned the red cloaks which
they had left behind during the intermission. As soon as they
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were wrapped in these spacious garments they seated them-
selves almost as one man, and in an instant they were a disci-
plined unityj the room promptly began to vibrate with the low
mumbling of their prayers. Immediately upon the completion of
the first prayer the Tea prayer it was the younger Lamas sit-
ting at the extreme end on either side began to stir. These
barefoot servers were running to the rear of the room. Here,
at the entrance, there were women who brought large earthen
jars of prepared tea, which they poured into empty barrels
bound by bands of brass.
After all had had their tea the Lama who had been all the
while sitting at the rear of the room on a small raised platform
was now advancing to the center of the room. After performing
the three customary devotional bows he began to read my pe-
tition supplicating that I be given the opportunity of having
this ceremony and requesting the consent of the Lamas to the
repetition of the secret mantras which the T'ri Rimpoche had
ordered. To this a low rumbling response of consent came forth,
whereupon he produced my prayer and read it to the assembly.
This marked my entrance. Leaving my camera in the hands
of my companions, I advanced to the center aisle, where I like-
wise made three devotional bows, then walked forward toward
the esteemed soul sitting on the divine throne of wisdom,
where I made the same offerings as at the Regent's place, and
obtained on the spot. Indeed, I was hardly aware of what I was
offering, so quickly did the different objects flash past my
vision. The first put into my hand was an object whose nature
eluded me, and it was followed in quick succession by a small
prayer-book, an image of Lord Buddha, and a copper chorten.
After this I presented my kata and bent forward to receive the
blessing which would come to me through a moment of silence,
with my head bowed, touching the sacred throne upon which
he was seated. From behind this closed chamber came a kata,
Penthouse of the Gods
which was given me with his blessing. Then, backing away in
humble respect, I offered my katas to the four high Lamas,
who likewise gave me their blessing after reverently placing
their kat&s over my head.
A long period followed, while I sat in silent meditation be-
low a small shrine which had been erected for the purpose j at
the same time the monks continued to repeat the formula which
was to bring me so much virtue. Simultaneously the high priests
were filling the room with mystic waves j they twisted their
wrists, with fingers placed in various positions, and they rang
a small prayer-bell and held the dorje y thumping on a drum
made of a human skull. During this part of the ceremony end-
less cups of tea were brought to me, and I had to consume them
for the sake of friendship. Then came the time for me to make
a round of inspection, after the offering to the monks had been
made. Again I followed to the center aisle, where I demon-
strated my humility} then, with burning incense, I walked up
and down the lines of endless Lamas, who were seated in hum-
ble respect on the carpet. Afterward, tsampa and rice were
served to the monks.
By this time several hours of the day had passed by, and I
am sure that some of those lost tones of the underworld
brought forth their subtle effect, for never before did I so in-
tensely experience the feeling of being consumed with a fire
within.
After we all had had a bite to eat they were to continue the
repetition of my mantra throughout the entire day, until they
had completed the book, which would probably hold them in
assembly until about seven that evening. Before that time ar-
rived, however, they would probably have had three more
servings of tea, which would make eight in all, with one serv-
ing of tsawpa. Each Lama carries his own cup and bowl in order
to receive his share of tea and tsampar. With this they will also
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have one generous helping of rice some time during the day.
With the setting sun I had to return to the meditative cham-
ber and once more repeat the sacred syllables which had been
given me and to reflect upon the symbology of the shrine which
had been erected for mej and this marked the end of the be-
ginning, and also made me aware of how hungry I was. I had
not been privileged to eat as were the other Lamas, as I was the
one to receive the effect of those mystic words j so little time
was wasted in returning to the Tsarongs, who were waiting
dinner for me.
It may be of some interest to note that the Chinese, who lost
all influence over Tibet in 191 1 and have been trying to regain
it ever since, still labor under the impression that Tibet belongs
to them and that the Tibetans are a folk inferior to themselves.
Actually, the Tibetans have taken good care of themselves since
the expulsion of the Chinese. $The Chinese have the notion that
there is only one supreme intelligence in the world and that is
of the Chinese. If they condescend to admit that the Western
world has surpassed their wildest imagination in mechanical
and industrial advancement, they qualify it with the comment
that does not necessarily imply great intelligence but rather
that the Westerners have merely given greater application to
matters to which the Chinese did not attach undue importance.
If this is their attitude towards us, it is easy to imagine as to
the importance they attach to the Tibetans, who have done
nothing but preserve the Buddhistic scriptures for themselves.
For some years the British had been keeping a representative
travelling back and forth from Gyantse to Lhasa. One of his
apparent duties was to keep an eye on the possibility of Chinese
intrusion, which might have consequences of a political and
commercial nature. The British desire Tibet to remain a closed
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Penthouse of the Gods
country and to continue its speculations in religion, with the at-
tendant isolation which enables the British to maintain what is
practically a commercial monopoly.
These reflections are in no small measure due to the fact that
on this particular morning, very early, I set out to see the po-
litical officer, Mr. Richardson, take his departure from Lhasa.
The party which saw him off was a large one, and the affair
bore an official character. The Lhasa camp, from which the de-
parture was made, was a little over a mile from Tsarong's
house. I took a short cut which led me around old Chak-po-ri
(Temple of Medicine), situated at the opposite peak of the
same rocky ridge that helps to enclose Lhasa. I had never been
around this way before, my usual custom when going to the po-
litical offices being to go through the city and the passageway
leading under the enormous chorten which forms the entrance
gate to Lhasa, built at the lowest place of the saddle between
Lhasa's architectural wonders. The medical center is built on a
precipice of solid rock, and it reminds one of the castles of
Germany. Along the narrow ridge over the gently flowing
stream leads the narrow trail around this rocky ridge. This trail
forms a narrow ledge along the side of this natural wall, on
whose sheer face endless carvings are to be seenj virtually all
the deities of the Tibetan pantheon are depicted here. The
gods are painted in their respective colors, forming a vast fresco
for the traveller to admire. For almost a quarter of a mile
the cliff is one solid mass of rock carving.
It is certain that one of the things one learns from such an
experience as living in Tibet or in any other remote place in the
world is that it becomes absolutely essential to find recourse in
one's imagination for any possible pleasure, and it creates the
ability to extract a deeper joy out of the simple few diversions
than from the endless shallow pleasures of our infinite ostenta-
tion. The need to discover diversion in myself led me to this
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I Am Initiated
repeated discovery. Remember, the usual things are absent,
there is no one to whom one may even talk for relaxation 5
there are no books, no shows, no fashionable amusement. It is
true, I learned to talk with the mule boys, the servants, and
even with myself, and I must confess that I failed to experience
many of those moods of despondency and boredom which tend
to come my way when living in the world to which we are most
accustomed. The fact is, I found a deeper joy than I ever ex-
perienced in my life, and at no time was there any sense of
missing anything that I had had in the past and did not have
now. I must add that I did not suffer a single instant of lone-
liness.
As it happened, I met Richardson and his escort just com-
ing out of the gateway. I rode along with him and we engaged
in a last-minute talk about the beauties of the scenery and the
enchantment of Lhasa. About four miles dowft the road the Ti-
betan army was on parade and offered him its salute, after
which it passed inspection. This took only a few minutes, and
we were off again for the next stop about half a mile away,
where at a table of honor in a large tent he went through the
ceremony of exchanging endless scarves and had a cup of tea.
He also partook of the auspicious bowl of rice, which was of-
fered him for a safe journey. It is the custom to take only one
pinch from this bowl, putting a couple of grains in your mouth
and throwing the remainder over your shoulder. From here
we went another mile or so down the road where he bade good-
bye to his guide and personal escort of natives whom he was
leaving behind. Then we continued to the new bridge of Tsa-
rong^s, which was another four miles distant 5 here Tsarong was
waiting to have a last cup of tea with Richardson, after which
we were to return together to the city, eight miles away.
During this brief return ride I had the urge again to be on
my way to almost any place, if only to be on the move, travel-
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Penthouse of the Gods
ling over desert lanes and through fertile valleys. The heavens
were banked high, and color was to be seen in every direction.
I had marvelled over Tsarong's bridge in a country so de-
void of the mechanical enterprise. It is a remarkable example
of modern construction. And yet you wonder how it could have
ever been accomplished without a single instrument of pre-
cision, but by accurate natural surmises. I doubt if a better job
could have been done in our own country with all its perfected
instruments and trained experts.
5
The Kashag was having a great festival which had gone on
for eight days and had still four more days to go. It is the
custom that each year a different Shape should have his turn
at entertaining, and this year the honor fell to Tethong Shape,
who had just finished building his new house in the city. It was
generally agreed that this house was the best in Lhasa} but my
chief envy was its shrines and the gorgeous array of thcmgkas
which adorned the sitting room.
I received an invitation to attend this festival, and I started
for the house about eleven in the morning. I knew that in its
way the entertainment would be an ordeal, for I should be ex-
pected to stay hours and go on eating the whole time. As an
honored guest, I could scarcely avoid going. If I could get away
by eight in the evening I should consider myself lucky. But
many Tibetans would stay on until midnight, and actually if
they showed an inclination to stop the night there, and, for that
matter, for several days, making one continuous meal of it, they
would not consider it anything out of the way. How they stand
up under this sort of thing is quite beyond me.
The house is three stories high, with the best places at the
top, where one can have a view and fresh sunlight. There at the
top was an exquisite sitting room with large bay windows with
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I Am Initiated
beautiful awnings over them to keep out the glare of mid-day.
You climbed up to it through the usual dark passageways and
Tibetan ladders. And there was a feeling of cleanliness about
the whole place.
I found the house full of guests. Every room through which
I passed had a small party going on. Both high and low par-
ticipated, it being the custom to entertain the servants as well
as the honored guests. My host said that he was able to accom-
modate only sixty guests at any one time, with any comfort}
so he had to take on different groups each day. On the day of
my visit, this entertaining had already gone on for ten days.
What principally held my attention in the beautiful private
shrine was a set of nine thcwgkas portraying the life of Lord
Buddha, all hand-embroidered. My host had another set just
like this one, but which was painted} he sent it to China, where
they made a duplicate set of hand-embroidery. It was by far
the finest thing of the kind that I have seen. The room itself
was of a typical Tibetan design, with the poles carved and
painted blue and gold on a red background, and the main part
wrapped in beautiful silk, where the average shrine has only
bare red poles upholding this cornice of lovely carvings. The
ceiling differed from the standard pattern, for here were blue
beams placed a short distance apart with the ground of the
ceiling painted green, covered with hand-painted flowers of a
rather subtle color, characteristically Chinese. This design was
broken up by a thin body of blue worked out in a very symmet-
rical pattern, too involved to attempt to describe here.
On arrival I was promptly served with several cups of tea
with cookies and figs. I dared not branch out into the harder
spirits there at your disposal} like all who have had experi-
ence, I knew that it was the better part of valor not to want
anything until it was forced on you, as before long you were
sure to get more than you wanted of everything. Indeed, food
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Penthouse of the Gods
soon began to pour in, following the regular course already
described in an earlier chapter. All I need say is that nothing
was omitted on this occasion. It was the finest cooking I had yet
tasted in Tibet} for all that, I thought it best to finesse my way
through. Yet at the end, when vermicelli soup was served, I had
to consume five large bowls of it, not a small amount on top of
all that had gone before.
I was congratulating myself on having gotten through with
it all with a minimum of discomfort, when the chcmg girls
came in and every one began to shout "Tashi deW" which is
equivalent to saying "Bottoms up!" So I had to drain cup after
cup of their chmg, which is a beverage made from barley flour,
containing possibly half a per cent of alcohoL This is really like
drinking a toast of health to one another. One would not mind
a few glasses, but when it gets up to around thirty he begins to
realize that it is not water, that there are limits to one's capacity
if not to the supply.
The tables were cleared for Mah Jong, but some persons
amused themselves with other games. The Chinaman was there
in all his glory, showing the boys how it is possible to lose their
money in a hurry. He had really an extraordinary facility in
handling the ivory squares, but this did not stop the beer which
continued to come in without interval of respite. Seeing that I
had no restraining influence over the chcmg girls, who seemed
to have an eye on me, I thought I had best for the time being
become something of a nomad. There was one very charming
girl in particular, a buxom Tibetan lassie, who reminded me
very much of a well-fed farmer girl, no matter where I turned
up, there was she, with sparkling eyes, holding her keg of chang
and insisting that I have another glass. There seemed to be no
way of saying No to themj they simply didn't understand the
word. Politeness in this country is entirely different from ours,
and you must learn how to take it. Indeed, they go so far as to
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I Am Initiated
stick you with needles if you refuse, and by this time the eyes
of every one are on you, begging you to have more so what is
one to do? I finally fled to the roof to have a look at the scenery
of Lhasa.
The rhythm of the music I had heard all that day persisted
in my mind, and with it the picture of the three lady dancers
who danced to it, making movements very much like those of
the geisha girls of Japan. The orchestra consisted of a long
wooden fife or flute, a fiddle and a banjo 5 the instruments were
actually different from our own known by these names. The
girls marked time with their feet as though tapping, and at regu-
lar intervals they swung their arms, with their sleeves hanging
far below the ends of their hands. It was a pleasant rhythm,
and again and again you found yourself waiting for it to resume.
This went on from the time of my arrival until I left, and it may
still be playing for all I know.
The air refreshed me, it was the first time that the digestive
apparatus had had a chance to catch up with itself, and I was
anxious to remain on the roof as long as possible, for the dinner
soon to follow would prove yet a greater ordeal than the one
which I had just survived, and it would be to the tune of a
continuous stream of chcmg.
After watching the children at play in the tent provided for
them in the garden below, I rejoined the party. On the way
down I stopped off in a couple of the other rooms and watched
the guests at their gambling games. Here all were men, the
women were on the other side of the house having a party of
their own. There seems to be no mixed companionship in this
respect, even though there is the most intimate companionship
between the Tibetan and his wife. But the array of jewelry, of
which I caught a glimpse as I passed a room full of women,
was enough to make one gasp.
I also had a chance to meet a few Lamas and officials at the
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Penthouse of the Gods
party, and to exchange a few thoughts on the subject of religion
and of my studies in it. Every one was naturally cordial, and
I was made to feel at home with all, in spite of the size of the
gathering and all its members being strangers to me. I feel
that this speaks well for the Tibetan character, as I cannot say
the same about my own people j hence, my fondness for the
people of Tibet continued to increase.
And so the last meal was brought on, and I tried to hold up
under it, but must confess that we had all to yield honors to the
Chinaman when it came to drinking chang. We finally wound
up playing the old Chinese game of calling the total number of
fingers which would be shown j the penalty provided that the
loser drink more chcmg. The enthusiasm of the Chinese official
was that of a small child for he never lost, and therefore he
never had to drink and so, filled to the neck, we called it a
day and a night.
[ 220 ]
CHAPTER IX
I ESCAPE WITH MY LIFE
rwAS another very sacred day, and all sorts of things were
going on in the village. Great masses of people were mak-
ing short pilgrimages to the small monasteries in the neigh-
boring hills, while the rest of the Lhasan populace were out in
their best clothes to see the crowd on their return. They all love
to dress up and look at one another, and as a crowd they act very
much like any other crowd in any other place.
After a hurried snack I went out, and was joined by Tharchin
and the "boys." First we went to the Tsug-lag-kang, where the
Government had put on a ceremony for the day. It was not
quite as large as the ceremony in which I had lately taken part,
but it had a very attractive addition of color in the shape of
thangkas and images brought by their owners, in order that
they might acquire special virtue from the blessings offered in
the temple. So all the wealthy persons of Lhasa sent their re-
ligious objects here j they crowded the nave, two and three deep.
Afterwards I went to the end of the village to watch the great
crowd and take such pictures as struck my fancy. I counted with-
out my multitudinous host, for the crowd, on seeing me, surged
around me. Apparently they were even more interested in me
than I was in them. I was having an exuberant time weaving
my way in and out of this seemingly endless, seething mass,
and trying from time to time to take a picture of a face or a
character that caught my interest, when all of a sudden I found
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Penthouse of the Gods
myself backed against the wall, with the crowd growing denser
and the pressure heavier. For a few instants I felt panicky. And
on top of that, without warning, there was the sudden impact of
something weighty against the side of my head and a feeling of
dull pain; it was a stone the size of a baseball, aimed at me,
unfortunately with only too accurate aim, by some one in the
crowd.
Almost instantaneously I realized that in no circumstance
must I show any sign of fear, or even of anger. It is true, how-
ever, that my first reaction was to start beating down every one
around me. Luckily, the prompt thought that followed held me
in restraint. To have used violence at the moment would have
been fatal j that great unruly mass would have disposed of me
more quickly than a can of T. N. T. might have done. While I
was trying to gather my wits about me, four more stones came
hurtling in my direction with effective aim, hitting me on the
shoulder and the head. My eyes sought for Tharchm and the
boys. They were not in sight; doubtless they were lost in the
mob which spread out over an area as large as a football field.
Immediately, I bethought myself of my aura, the aura which
I had been coached to assume as a preliminary to my Lhasan pil-
grimage, and now I assumed it. I straightened my shoulders,
lifted my head high and directed my eyes straight ahead, and,
with the air of a great dignitary of the faith, I advanced with a
rapid, firm stride, tramping down any one who did not stand
aside. I turned neither right nor left, nor looked at any indi-
vidual, nor said a single word. The crowd opened before me,
and in the effort to draw back some persons fell, and I without
much ado merely walked over them. This, in a psychological
sense, did the trick; for immediately others came forward and
beat the crowd back and forced them to make way for me and
saw to it that they did not once touch me with their defiling
hands.
[ 222 ]
I Escape with My Life
Maintaining this mood to the end, I walked straight to where
our horses were chained and Tharchm and the boys were wait-
ing for me. With this experience immediately behind me, I
thought it was time to call it a day, so I went home to give my
head the opportunity to regain its original shape.
Having added more details to my daily discipline, it was
necessary to begin the day before the break of dawn, in order
that most of my daily study might be finished by breakfast, as
there were endless things to do between breakfast and late in
the night. I was now preparing to continue my translation of
the Ltfe of Padma Sambhon)^ begun at Kalimpong, and I
wanted to finish it before it was time to leave for America. To
this I hoped to add translations of the Lives of Rechung-po,
Dag-po, and perhaps Tsong-Khapa. All of my earlier hours
were now being spent in carrying out the meditation discipline
which was given me together with some studies in the language,
so I was able to crowd in at least three hours before any one
else began to stir for the day. There is such a gap between the
literary and the colloquial in the Tibetan language that I de-
cided to pursue an intensive study of the former under the
guidance of a teacher, as I foresaw the difficulties of trying to
study the language by myself upon my return.
There was a morning when I was able to continue my studies
after breakfast until tiffin, and I managed to sandwich in a brief
period of reflection on all that was happening to me, and on my
inward reactions. In this inner inspection of myself I must
admit to having felt a strong mood of warmth, the warmth
that comes from the glow of the creative imagination, stimu-
lated by all that was to be had and experienced here, and it
was my hope that I should be able to absorb it deeply enough
into my system so that I might take it away with me as a part of
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Penthouse of the Gods
my make-up, as a part of my integrity. Truly, I knew no other
feeling of happiness that gave greater contentment} all other
ways sooner or later let you down, but this one promised per-
petuity.
This particular morning I happened to be reading the life
of the saint Milarepa with considerable envy. I could not help
agreeing with him that this life is so brief and so transitory that
it is a pity we must waste so much of its precious energy on mis-
directed externals, even while the spirit of the eternal is within,
and, once the awareness of the rise of our inner consciousness has
been experienced, all doubts as to the purpose of this life can
be forever removed. Yet it is true that these infinite external
manifestations have their place, inasmuch as they afford the
needful experience to bring about this awareness and this kind
of meditative mind in a person not of that reflective nature in
the beginning. Indeed, speaking for myself, I should need no
encouragement to follow closely on the footsteps of Milarepa,
yet living as we do in a social order wholly incompatible with
any such scheme of existence, it is scarcely possible at this time
to take any practical steps to launch the program it involves.
Let us hope that before the end has arrived it will be possible
for those who feel that this is the way of life to climb over the
confining walls and to realize some of our cherished ideals.
At the beginning of my experience I could not have thought
it feasible, but since I first entered my new environment during
the past winter there developed in me a growing confidence,
until now I had the assurance of being able to forge ahead
alone, without the aid of a teacher, into the wilderness of Maya
(illusion), which surrounds our subconscious. Nevertheless,
there were still a few principles of which I was anxious to ac-
quire knowledge before I could feel wholly confident of being
able to go through the gamut of complete isolation, but even
without it I felt sure of enriching my life in every aspect.
[224]
I Escape with My Life
In going over this experience in my mind, while sitting dur-
ing my ultimate initiation in the cave of solitary confinement,
I came to the realization o the meaning and purpose of all that
had seemed so mysterious at the time I was passing through the
experience. And I arrived at the conclusion that as soon as it
becomes possible for one to consult with the inner conscious-
ness, all else loses its importance, and books and the like become
superfluities j for all things in this external world are only ex-
tensions of that infinite intelligence which is to be found in the
innermost being of every living soul.
When it is said that the world is moving at such a rapid pace,
and that it is impossible to keep up with it, the inevitable con-
clusion is erroneousj for human nature itself is by no means
changing at that rate. Indeed, the very fact that our world of
name and form is admittedly moving ahead at a pace with
which man is unable to keep up is in itself ample evidence that
he is not changing, or at any rate not changing sufficiently fast
to keep up with the constantly accelerated existence. When the
true principles of life are properly understood a complete in-
sight can be had into any problem offered as soon as the essen-
tial facts are known. After all, even if we knew all the latest
traffic laws, what has that got to do with the purpose of life? We
must learn to distinguish between those things which apper-
tain to man and those concerned with the mechanism arranged
so that he can function at his fullest capacity.
And so my thoughts continued to pile up, and a strong long-
ing was growing within for the light of contemplation and of
reflection as the result of past experiences, and for finding a
way that could be adapted to the everyday life of the individual
in the world of affairs who cannot give up all of his time but
will be able to carry on his activities with a deeper joy for liv-
ing gained by this means: the establishment of a contact with
the flow which is the essence of his soul.
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Penthouse of the Gods
It may be asked, does the average Tibetan get any o this
from his teaching? It is probable that he gets little more from
his ritual than does the devotee of any of the great faiths of
the world today from his. That does not mean, however, that
what lies behind the ritual is wrong. The world is changing,
and conditions are very different from what they were at the
time of the great teachers, but the truth remains the same eter-
nally. It is only the name and form, or the crystallization of
that eternal truth, that changes. This change is one of the very
laws of the universe,(for they teach here that the truth is like
the sun, ever the same, ever radiating its light, yet that if we
look at its reflection in the water as the wind stirs the waves,
we find that it is ever changing, ever moving. We know that
it is only the reflection we see, and so it is with us, the world of
name and form in this world of Maya (illusion) , it is only the
reflection of the truth, and it is that that goes on changing,
while the truth is the same eternally."',
What the world needs today, it has been said, is not one to
reveal the truth, as that can be found, but a leader who can
show the people how to advance these teachings to accord with
the new set of facts with which we are living. They appear
to be irreconcilable at times. What is required is a thorough
understanding of both sides of the problem, and the establish-
ment of an equilibrium between them, which means the avoid-
ance of either extreme. The main problem is essentially the
reconciliation of the internal with the external. The thing I was
seeking, I realized, was an understanding of life, such an un-
derstanding as could grapple with the problem of relating the
intelligence gained from the inner revelation to the practical
aspects of our Western life, and if I could lay a few seeds, so
that in time some one else would carry on the quest, I should
consider the little I have done with unbounded satisfaction.
The first thing needful was to gather the facts, so the problem
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might be seen In all its clarityj then there was the hope that
a genius would arise who knew how to use his gifts in solving
the problem shrewdly and practically, or at any rate start it on
the way to solution by steps taken in the future by other indi-
viduals through perpetuity.
3
I spent a good part of the day in making out lists of rare
books which I was trying to find to take back with me to Amer-
ica. I learned that all the printers had been engaged by the
Government to work on the Sam-Bum (Biography) of the late
Dalai Lama, making it impossible to find some of the books
which otherwise would be easily obtainable in Lhasa. As I have
already indicated, a book in Tibet is not merely a book, but is
looked upon as something to be worshipped. Hence, as soon as
a book is published and sold to a person, it is next to impossi-
ble for him to pass it on to some one else. I was determined,
however, to make every effort to secure all available literature
on such subjects as the native deities, the Tibetan liturgy, med-
ical science, poetry, astrology, philosophy, logic, as well as de-
scriptions of the monasteries and the lives of the saints; indeed,
on everything that makes the Tibetan civilization and culture.
I was particularly anxious to obtain two very scarce books, which
are the lists of all the block prints to be found in the printing
establishment at Narthang, and of books published at Derge,
in Eastern Tibet. I was intent on leaving no stone unturned
in order to bring back to America a collection of books which,
once translated, would give the outside world a deep insight
into the thoughts of the people of this land, where spiritual
growth is considered the most important thing in life. I realized
that it would be an act of God to be able to obtain these books,
and I had been so lucky so far that I felt that my luck must
hold out even in this.
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The blocks used in the making of these books are all hand-
carved, and it is usually necessary to find the printer who knows
about the desired book} it is for him to dig up the old blocks
and run off an edition for you. Before printing, however, the
paper has to be made, and this again is a slow and tedious proc-
ess, since everything is done by hand. Today the best paper is
to be had in British Bhutan, about 350 miles away} this makes
the price very high, owing to the long trek in transporting it.
It comes in oblong sheets of about four or five feet long and
two and a half feet wide. The printer cuts up these sheets to
the size of the manuscript and pastes several of the small sheets
together, and after the paste has been generously applied and
the paper ironed out, the book is ready for printing. But there
is still a lot of work ahead. Little wonder, then, that it is diffi-
cult, if not impossible, to make any one part with a volume,
once he has obtained it.
Tsarong had a complete set of the Kangyur and Tengywr,
printed for him at Kham, for which he was at this time having
the boards made which are used as covers. He said that he
would eventually find a set for me. But until the book was ac-
tually in my hands I could never be certain} in this country ten
or twenty years means absolutely nothing. The distinguishing
feature of Tsarong's set which differentiated it from all others
was that, instead of being printed in ordinary black ink, it was
all printed in red. There was a proposal before the KasAag
that a special printing be made for me from blocks of Narthang,
with particular care that a good and clear printing be executed.
From what I knew of these blocks, however, the prospect of a
good printing was not at all bright.
The making of illuminated manuscripts is a highly devel-
oped art in Tibet. A large manuscript will often cost thousands
of rupees. In fact, the present Maharajah of Nepal has one
which is reputed to have cost one lac, or 100,000 rupees. Now
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I Escape with My Life
and then the entire Kmgyur and Tengyur is printed in this
fashion for the Dalai Lama or some other very high priest.
Tsarong showed me some da luxe editions of small prayer
books o perfect workmanship, with high-raised gold charac-
ters set in a thin wooden frame, to which the paper has been
pasted. The frame itself was exquisitely painted, and covered
with a strip of red silk with a layer of yellow. The rest of the
book revealed alternate lines of gold and silver, something I
had not seen before. Usually, the first two or three pages of
such a book, and perhaps the last, have hand-painted deities at
each end as borders. This gives only a brief description of the
effort and care which go into the preparation of a fine Tibetan
book, but there is no way to convey its beauty or give any idea
of the hours of patient toil necessary to produce the sanctified
results.
In this connection, I must add that for some time I had been
spending no little effort in having a Christmas card printed in
order to show my friends at home a modest specimen of Ti-
betan manuscript making. Even so, I had four persons and
their assistants engaged in the task, and I had to use no little
persuasion and offer no little remuneration to prevail upon
them, especially as the Life of the late Dalai Lama was at this
time engaging the effort of all the writers and artists of Lhasa.
It was only after I pointed out to them that I had come a
mighty long distance in order to make their teachings known
on the other side of the world that they condescended to asr-
sume the task I set them, that of whetting the appetite of the
West by a glimpse of the art of the East. As it was, I had still
to figure out how I could provide the necessary English letter-
ing. I was sure, however, of being able to devise something in
good time*
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Penthouse of the Gods
I spent the rest of the day m making a review of the rise
and spread of Buddhism from the time it entered China in
6 1 A.D. and Japan in the sixth century, until it came to Tibet in
the seventh, and flowered there in its own fashion. This event
occurred in the reign of King Srong-tsan-Gampo who, as I have
already told, had been converted to Buddhism by his Nepalese
and Chinese wives, both ardent adherents of the faith. He was
given the Chinese princess, Wench'eng, by the Emperor of
China, T'ait-sung of the T'ang dynasty, in order to induce him
to forego his military pursuits on the border. The Nepalese
princess, Bnkuti, daughter of King Amsuvarman, was first
taken in marriage when he was only sixteen 5 so the Tibetan
annals report. When the Tibetan King asked for this princess,
he is reputed to have said:
"I, King of barbarous Tibet, do not practise the ten virtues,
but should you be pleased to bestow on me your daughter, and
wish me to have the Law, I shall practise the ten virtues with
a five-thousandfold body . . . though I have not the arts . . .
if you so desire ... I shall build five thousand temples."
The Chinese assert that there was no religion in Tibet at
this time. As a result of his conversion the Tibetan King sent
Thon-mi Sam-bhota to India to acquire the teachings, and this
gave rise to the Tibetan alphabet. The Chinese princess became
the White Tara ("Lady of Mercy")> while the Nepalese prin-
cess became the Green Tara, but this was as far as it went, and
nothing was done for the religion. It was not until the reign
of his powerful descendant, Thri-Srong-Detsan, in the eighth
century, that the real foundation was laidj it was he who
brought Guru Rimpoche, also known as Padma Sambhava, to
Tibet. On the advice of Guru's brother-inJaw, Santa-rafcshita,
who was made the head Abbot of Samye, the first monastery of
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Tibet was built in 747. The first Lama was Pal-bans, who suc-
ceeded Santa-rakshita, and the first ordained monk was Bya-
Kri-Gzigs. The most brilliant follower was Vairocana, who
translated many Sanscrit works into Tibetan. This marked the
beginning of the Nyingmapa sect. The same King founded
many other Lamaseries and gave a strong impetus to their lit-
erary efforts. Consequently, his era is looked upon as the Primi-
tive or "Augustine," followed by the Mediaeval, then by the
Reformation and the Modern, to the beginning of the line of
King-Priests of the Dalai Lamas of the seventeenth century.
It was in the reign of Ralpachan, Thri-Srong-Detsan's grand-
son, that the translation of the scriptures and commentaries
of Nagarjuna, Aryadeva, Vasunbandhu, etc., was prosecuted.
Because of the great devotion of this King, he was murdered}
his younger brother, Lan Darma, on assuming the throne, did
all he could to uproot the religion, and he, in his turn, was as-
sassinated in the third year of his reign. His efforts had merely
served to give greater vigor to the faith.
The last-named episode gave rise to the famous Black Hat
dance, of which every visitor to Tibet must have heard. The
story is that a dancer came performing outside the palace walls
to win the interest of the King and the opportunity to perform
within the walls of the court. He had hidden under his robes a
bow and arrow, with which he hoped he would be able to dis-
pose of the King who was destroying the religion. It was not
long before his skill as a dancer gained him the favor of the
King, and he was invited within, to entertain and dance. At the
first opportunity that arose he drew his bow and arrow from
their hiding place and shot the poisoned arrow deep into the
King's heart. Then the dancer fled on his horse, which was cov-
ered with soot. When the rider came to the Lhasa River he re-
moved the soot, and turned his own black gown inside out, thus
transforming the appearance of himself and his beast and mak-
[23* ]
Penthouse of the Gods
ing escape possible. Since that day to this, the story has been
enacted by the dancers of Tibet, who go through all the mo-
tions of the Black Hat dancer in the drama of his rise to favor,
his assault on the King, and his escape from punishment, hav-
ing saved the religion from destruction.
In 1038 came Atisha, and started the Kadampa sect, which
later developed into the Gelupa and gained the principal power
of the state under the leadership of Tsong-Khapa in 1407. It
was not until 1640 that it became the ruling power with the
rise of the fifth Dalai Lama. With the advent of Atisha and
the reformed Kadampa sect came the semi-reform sects of Kar-
gyupa and Sakya, the latter gaining the dominating control
through the great Chinese Emperor Khubla Khan, a descendant
of Ghenghiz Khan, who captured Tibet in 1206 A.D. In search-
ing for a religion for his people, he took over Lamaism and
made the Abbot of Sakya head of the church in much the
same manner as Charlemagne created the first Pope. During the
Ming dynasty in 1368 the ruler deemed it advisable to raise
the heads of the other sects to the level of those in Sakya, in
order to eliminate quarrelling amongst them and thereby make
it easier to rule the country.
In the fifteenth century Tsong-Khapa reorganized the work
of Atisha and created the Gelupa sect, which took the lead in
1640 under the fifth Grand Lama, Nag-wan Lo-zang. He in-
duced Gusri Khan to capture the country and make a present
of it to himj in 1650 he was given the Mongol title of Dalai,
or "Vast as the Ocean." He held himself to be a God-incarnate,
and built the palace temple on the hill in Lhasa} it was named
the Potala, after his divine prototype, Avolokita, "The Lord
Who Looks Down From On High."
So we have Buddhism coming to Tibet with its final per-
fected Theocracy, which continues to rule the country to this
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I Escape with My Life
day. Now its power is on the wane, and the prediction is that
it will not be many more VQ^rfr-bdFore the civil authorities will
have taken over the cedjotry.
5
Tsarong generously offered to do everything in his power to
procure for me not only the sacred scriptures but also the de-
sired deities and yidams (protecting deities of the religion) for
the shrine which I was planning to erect in America, though
I had not yet decided whether it would be private or semi-
public. He also promised to have it carved in Lhasa and
shipped to me, so that it would be authentic from beginning to
end. The Regent was trying to secure for me my main deity;
as he was a dependable person, I considered the matter as good
as settled. As for the books, Tsarong practically promised to
turn over his own set to me. He said he would order another
set for himself, which meant that he could not possibly have it
for another three or four years. Indeed, it had taken him five
years to obtain the set he promised me, because he first had the
paper made in Lhasa, after which he sent it by his own animals
with his own men all the way to Derge, he also despatched his
own printer from Lhasa to do the printing. During the winter
it is so cold that such work is impossible, and the summers are
short. In any case, one never hurries here. And every page must
be proof-read by the Lamas to check every word of it. Then it
must be transported back to Lhasa, which is a thousand miles
away.
On its arrival in Lhasa the high Lamas from the great mon-
asteries came to his private temple in his house and after the
dedication ceremony had the books placed on their permanent
shelf where they were expected to remain forever. It was the
custom never to remove the books from the shelf of the temple,
once they had been blessed by the Lamas, except for the pur-
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Penthouse of the Gods
pose of reading and studying. It was argued, however, that in
such exceptional circumstances as their use in propagating their
teachings to the world, their surrender to me might be allowed.
Indeed, the prospects of an exception being made in my case
were good, for there was the prophecy of Buddha that even-
tually the Law (dharma) would spread throughout the world.
Having gone through my one pair of trousers, and with an
extended stay in Lhasa before me, it had become absolutely
necessary that I get some clothes j for if I now started to wear
my one and only Tibetan gown it would be worn out before
I returned to the West, and I was very anxious to show to
others how Tibetans dressed. So I took up the problem with
Tsarong. He responded by bringing out bolt after bolt of the
most gorgeous silk that I had ever seen. Overcoming my re-
luctance, he gave orders to have several Tibetan robes made
for me. He sent out a servant to fetch his head tailor in order
to have these made to my measure. Then I went out to buy
some "accessories"} I found shopping as much fun as at home.
I only wish the men in our country would adorn themselves
with a little more of the material and color used in these parts.
While we were going over my need of new garments, the
conversation was switched to the subject of jewelry used by Ti-
betan women. Very popular is an article called the charm box,
made to hang from the neck. It is a small square box about the
size of a large compact, with another square pattern within
placed as to resemble a four-cornered star. For the most part
made of gold, the back of it is often of silver. The design on the
box is usually bordered by turquoise, the rest being of other
precious stones, according to the wealth of the owner. The box
is usually about half an inch deep, and contains charms to ward
off evil. During our talk Tsarong brought out a large bag filled
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I Escape with My Life
with turquoises of the finest quality, and not one with a blem-
ish, all of the most exquisite blue. What the diamonds are to us,
the turquoises are to the Tibetans. Not content with his wealth
of turquoises, Tsarong was interested in the possibility of im-
porting more of these precious stones direct from the American
mines, and he was anxious for me on my return to investigate
the prospects of this, and, indeed, I should like to render him
service in appreciation of all that he has done for me, an un-
heard-of stranger.
Tsarong was equally interested in the possibility of import-
ing silks from Russia. It seems that in the past the Tibetans im-
ported a great deal of silk from Russia; indeed, the famous silk
brocades to be found in Tibet today all came from that country.
After the Revolution, however, all such trade stopped, chiefly
because they did not want the Reds to meddle in their affairs.
He was anxious, however, to find out if these silks were still
being manufactured and if there were some way of being able
to procure them again. A small fortune might be made in Tibet
in trading in turquoise and silks. All of the Shapes made in-
quiries of me as to the possibility of procuring Russian silks,
held in such high regard by the wealthy Tibetans.
7
A messenger was sent to inform me of preparations being
made for the ceremony at Rammoche, and that my presence
would be welcome. The ceremony on the morrow was to be
similar to the one in which I had only lately taken part, with
virtually the same monks officiating. The fact is, they lived at
Rammoche. Accompanied by Tharchm and the boys, I made
my way on horseback through the flowing sewers of Lhasa, for
it had rained heavily the night before, filling the streets with
water which floats the filth. The country all around is incom-
parably beautiful, but the streets of Lhasa after a rain are in-
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Penthouse of the Gods
credibly .unsightly. Indeed, the better-class Tibetans complain
of it, and are frankly apologetic before a stranger. I usually
tried to put them at their ease by telling them that it really
didn't amount to anything compared to the way our country
used to be in the early frontier days.
The Rammoche is situated just at the edge of the town, and
the way that leads there offers an interesting spectacle of Ti-
betan life. The grand houses we pass reveal the general living
conditions, the shops show how the various crafts are carried on.
The streets are filled with donkeys, yaks, dogs, sheep, goats,
horses, Lamas, beggars, men, women, and children. The last
two hundred yards offer the greatest interest in the never-end-
ing pageant of travellers passing over the road which leads out
of the town. Just before reaching this long, straight stretch you
pass a mmi (sacred wall) about a hundred yards in length
with the usual throng of beggars squatting beneath its sacred
emblems. I do not believe there is a place in the world which
can compare with Tibet for its herds of dejected travelling
mendicants who pass through this life clothed in tatters and
with begging bowls in their hands. Mendicancy is considered a
respectable profession in this land, though the lot of the beg-
gars at best is far from an enviable one, to judge from the ones
you see, with scarce a real flicker of life among them.
Our jaunt was not without its pathetic touch. We joined a
rapidly increasing crowd, attracted to the sight of a human
being taking his last breaths while prostrated on the kerb, with
almost the entire calf of one leg eaten off and the heel of the
other foot gonej and there was all the gore that colors such a
scene. It appears that one of the dogs had become a little hungry
and helped himself, and the fellow was now the recipient of
gathering sympathies and of unheard-of aid. We tried to make
arrangements for him to be taken to the Mission physician,
but it did not look as if our efforts would prove successful.
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I Escape with My Life
They do not have much faith in doctors in these parts, and,
moreover, the attention the man was getting meant the promise
of Tibetan copper coin, which is worth even less than our pen-
nies. Our efforts unavailing, we continued our way to the tem-
ple, where the monks had been busy decorating the tormas y
which had been made and arranged before our arrival.
At the previous ceremony I had not been able to see them
decorate these chortens, so I was particularly interested in see-
ing the systematic way in which several Lamas carrying large
trays with ornaments hurriedly slapped the decorative bits on
to the tormas; it was all done rapidly and effectively, with al-
most the automatic rhythm of machinery. They went through
the same procedure with the next decoration. I observed all
this from my mat, while I was drinking tea and having a few
pinches of sugar-rice, which is done for good luck. Then, after
making my turn around the inner temple and revolving the
prayer-wheels, I went into the courtyard, where the butter was
to be melted. Several large copper vats were boiling away with
the butter, which was then poured into the large earthen jugs
and carried over into the monastery and used to fill the thou-
sand butter lamps.
Within the courtyard there was a spacious clearing, bordering
on a dense growth of large trees. At one end there was an en-
closed platform, generally used by one or another of the learned
Lamas when instructing a young student. One of the Lamas in
charge wanted his picture taken and had selected a background,
a large grove of hollyhocks which should make a perfect frame
for that saintly face. I did the best I could under a heavily
clouded sky.
On our return in the late afternoon I ran across our beggar
acquaintance, who had dragged his mangled limbs to a more
advantageous spot and there gave up in despair.
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Penthouse of the Gods
8
The next day was to be another memorable one for me, for I
participated in the ceremony of the Sa^wang duk-Qa held at
the Rammoche temple, which was erected in the seventh cen-
tury to enshrine the image of the Nepalese wife of Srong-tsan-
Gampo. The monks greeted me as an old acquaintance, having
officiated in the service held during the past week at the Tsug-
lag-khang, the Rammoche being their permanent headquarters.
I had asked that different deities be propitiated this time to
give me an insight to other services. The general externals were
the same as far as the order of events was concerned, but dif-
ferent ornaments were worn. The mantras and the prayers were
also of another nature. The service held more fascination for
me than the previous one, since it provided for an invocation
to one of their secret gods, which called for the mcmdala (mys-
tical diagrams) as the main decoration hanging from the high
beam at the head of the nave just a short distance in front of
the head Lama of the day, who was the same who had con-
ducted the previous service for me. This particular deity is
supposed to abide in the center of the mandala; so the ceremony
revolved around the intricate passageway to his abode of bliss.
Again, it is an object to awaken the imagination concerning the
Maya of life.
All this ritual was devised by the learned ones who compiled
the Tantras countless centuries ago, aware of the incapacity of
the human animal for seeking strength and solace within. From
these works have originated all the ritual practised by all the
original sects of India and Tibet. To be sure, India will not ad-
mit certain practices, such as the endless <pujas of propitiation.
But the Tibetan grants everything its place, and the Ttmtrik
teachings make up the bulk of their sacred literature. This is
not surprising, when it is considered that Padma Sambhava,
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I Escape with My Life
who brought the religion to Tibet, was reputed to be one of the
greatest Tantriks of his time. The Tibetan sages realized that
there is nothing that brings out the emotions of man so effec-
tively as poetry and music, so endless mantras have been de-
vised for the purpose of this emotional awakening. Before the
individual can receive the blessing of his devotion he must first
be awakened, and they are fully aware that nothing is bestowed
upon him from the outside, that everything must come from
within through this emotional awakening. By employing an
image representing the supreme power of life the individual
has something tangible to which he can cling; to keep before
his mind the transitoriness of our physical existence, these end-
less themes have been devised portraying the different aspects
of the futility of life.
The chief shrine was that of Dorje-Jig-je, who is believed
to be a metamorphosis of the moral and merciful Chen-re-zi,
the patron saint of Tibet. His life-sized image copulating with
his spiritual counterpart was all in blue, while the human heads
above his bull face draped with human skulls were in: red, as
were the flames which make up his aura of power. His sixteen
hands all held sacred objects. His spiritual aid was in a hue of
gilt beneath silken wraps of blue and red. Before this image we
stopped to reflect and to contact the flow of life, and thus glean
understanding of life's passing nature through the feelings as
well as through instruction revealed in the scriptures. Here they
accept the duality of externalized nature and they always re-
veal the hideous aspects of their deities rather than try to con-
vey the impression that all is perfection. These endless fiends
shown in sexual embrace are only used to remind one of the
union of the positive and negative aspects, which ultimately are
revealed in the unified perfection of the Godhead.
The low and the ignorant never look upon these images but
to comment that the religion of Tibet is nothing but the most
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Penthouse of the Gods
degraded form of idolatry. They are oblivious of the rudimen-
tary facts of symbology which lie behind these external forms
used only to aid the weakness of a fleeting mind. Once the indi-
vidual has gained inner power of his own nature, he can dis-
pense with all such forms and continue alone. Here is where
The Gelupa differs from the Kargyupa, for the latter advo-
cate hermitages where the individual may retire for silent medi-
tation, once he has gained the power through the physical forms
of the ritual, which adheres strictly to the principles of Tantra.
The Kargyupa has gained supreme unpopularity precisely be-
cause man always wishes to choose the easier way, dear to his
own incapacity} so high and upright principles as an ideal to
live by are offered, leaving the power of salvation in the hands
of the high priests of the country. And thus we find the role
of ignorance holding popularity.
So much of the ceremony at the Rammoche followed the
order and ritual of the ceremony described in the previous
chapter that I shall refrain from repeating such details as I have
already given. Again, the highest and most spiritual Lama of
Tibet honored me by conferring his blessing upon me. Upon
their heads the Lamas wore a crown of about two feet high,
made of black velvet, graduated to a point like a chorten* It
had a high border consisting of five silver sections shaped like
the charm boxes worn on the backs of the traders. This was sup-
posed to represent the dress of the particular deity to whom
they were making the offerings of imagination which went on
throughout the day. The chants, begun by the head chorister
who filled the room with the unending roll of thunder in the
heavens, were picked up by eight hundred Lamas, only to be
relieved by the tinkling of their bells, for every Lama had his
bell and dorje; the latter being constantly used. At times they
would pick up the dorje with the pointer-finger and little finger
extended, while grasping it with the rest of the hand, and wave
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I Escape with My Life
their twisting wrist in the air, along with the bell held in the
other hand.
With the first part of the ceremony completed, various offer-
ings were brought forth in the form of beautiful silken scarves
in deep reds and blues } these were placed over the laps of the
Lamas, and various wwdr&s (mystic positions) were assumed
while grains of rice were tossed from little piles in front of
them. At times they would place red scarves on their foreheads
and, after other wudras, they would be removed. The process
of putting these offerings away was followed by a procedure
just as deliberate.
Then came the repast of tea and rice. Once they had their
bowls filled with tea, they all made small chortens and other
odd twisted objects, which were placed beside them in the
course of the ritual. I observed one quaint note. After the tea
had been poured and they took a few minutes to sip, they all
began to blow back the froth of the floating butter and to drink,
but the head Lama tasted only a little, after which an attendant
took his bowl and distributed small portions of the remainder
to the monks, until all was gone.
It being past my usual lunch hour I was grateful for the
food brought me by attendants. I had yet to make my tour of
inspection with the large bundle of burning incense, which I
was supposed to distribute to all the monks in the temple for
their service in my behalf. Shortly after eating I had to prepare
fitja before the main gods of the temple as well as the fierce
forms, which were hidden away in the dusty gloom of their
sanctuaries dimly lighted by flickering butter lamps. It seems
to me that these forms are horrific enough to protect themselves
in the light where humans can appreciate these creative shapes.
The main reason for their concealment, however, as I previ-
ously indicated, is the dangerous influence they may exert on
the untutored, ignorant of their true meaning.
[241]
Penthouse of the Gods
So this day marked another historic episode in my unprece-
dented experience in forbidden Tibet. I and my companions
returned home under the gaze of all Lhasa j there seems to be
nothing that arouses the curiosity of the mob more than to see
a bearded Westerner marching through their streets in native
dress. From the time I came out of the temple until I reached
Tsarong's I had a mob running ahead of me trying to figure
out what it was that permitted such an event.
[242]
CHAPTER X
FURTHER EDUCATION
OF A LAMA
IHAD a visitor in a Lama from the Drepung monastery and
we made arrangements for a daily call from him to instruct
me in the inner ritual of the monasteries and methods of
training. He was a Geshe who instructed aspiring students at the
monastery. It seemed something of a mystery why he was sent
to me. In any event, it was quite evident that they kept track
of an individual. Your history was an open book to them, they
knew what you were doing, and they could almost tell you
your future. As for me, I accepted these facts for all they meant
to me, no longer surprised at anything that might happen to
me in this strange land.
On the following day I had a visit from a Lama, who had
been the spiritual guide of Thrimon Shape. He came at the
suggestion of Tsarong to have a talk with me, with the idea of
giving me instruction. We met in the courtyard, and exchanged
the customary kata. Few words were said on either side, yet
a mood of understanding possessed us both. We seated our-
selves Buddha-fashion near the low Tibetan table, and his serv-
ants soon came bringing his offering to me, as was the custom
on making the first call. His gift was a small image of the Guru
Rimpoche, the founder of the order, and a short Tibetan
prayer. In silence I placed the image to my head, in accordance
with tradition. As a follower of their teachings I was supposed
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to know all the gestures of respect and humility. I confess I
found it rather trying to keep up with the endless ritualistic
forms. This Lama whose growing faith revealed the countless
years he had spent in study and contemplation was deemed by
all as being one of the most learned in the esoteric aspects of
doctrines of the Tmtras. To meet him and receive instruction
from him was a rare privilege I scarcely expected on entering
Tibet. He was reputed to hold what might be called the mystic
key to life, to all the teachings written in the form of stories-
To possess this key is to gain profound philosophical insight,
which permits an individual to meet all the adversity of life
with the fortitude of understanding.
The Nyingmapa and Kargyupa sects, of which this Lama
was a follower, are more liberal than the Gelupa in their regu-
lations of discipline, they proceed on the theory that you should
develop understanding through the process of experience;
hence, they allow their followers a measure of worldliness. This
particular Lama, for example, had long hair, in contrast to the
shaven head of the ordinary Gelupa Buddhist. Marriage is also
allowed, and wine is permitted as well as women. It is argued
that until you know these aspects of life, it will be impossible
for you to surmount them. Indeed, it is one way of getting
these things out of your system, and only after you have done
so can you gain the higher understanding. To insure under-
standing, however, instruction is provided simultaneously with
your living the experience. Ultimately, liberated from such
worldly concerns, the individual is ready to have the secret
teachings of the Tantras imparted to him. This calls upon him
to turn within, and extract the wisdom hitherto hidden in the
depths of self.
Thus, with the Gelupas, they strive to place an unattainable
ideal before themselves, and then, with the sublime thought,
wallow in the mire of life, which externalizes itself, in the case
Further Education of a Lama
of the monks, in the teeming hives o religious devotion. The
circumstances would seem to indicate that it may be better to
yield to the ways of life and not be quite so virtuous and thereby
have life devour one.
The teachings of the Gelupas are mainly based on the Sutras j
those of the Kargyupas on a mixture of the Sutras and the Gsan
Sngags or esoteric Tmtras (secret mantras] ; while the Nying-
mapas virtually practice the Tantras in their purity. The essen-
tial differences between these three main sects are illustrated by
the following story:
There was a beautiful park in which grew a deadly poison-
ous plant. One man came along and suggested that the plant be
wholly uprooted. Then another man came along and suggested
that by pouring boiling oil over it the bush would be killed.
Then, still a third man came along, a doctor, who, knowing the
chemical properties of this plant, took its leaves and by mixing
them with other things showed them the plant's value this is
the Kargyupa, while the sect symbolized in the previous sug-
gestion is the Gelupa, and one before that represents the teach-
ings in India. During the conclave an ostrich happened to be
by, and he began feeding on the vine, resulting in a greater
richness in the color of his feathers and in an increase in his
vitality and here you have the Nymgmapas symbolized, for
this cult knows how to utilize the facts of life for its good. All
the three, however, are linked up with the same goal, and dif-
fer only in their disciplinary methods. It would seem that the
Kargyupa would be the most popular since it advocates the ac-
ceptance of life and the living of it. The human mind does not,
perhaps, like to admit this. The problem is to receive a spiritual
response in holding up the moral idea of life, and at the same
time to live in a fashion contrary to this idea. In no event will
they give up their way of living, but their cult does not offer
them that sense of mystic security which can assure them jus-
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Penthouse of the Gods
tification for their acts even as a lesson or an experience. They
follow the psychology of the typical drunkard, who advises his
young friends never to take up the vice, but you will never
catch him directing any one on the right path by example. They
all want their drinks even while they "pass out" so to speak,
thinking of the virtue to be gained in the hereafter if they could
only do what they think should be right during this existence.
Then, too, the Kargyupas have one other drawback, as far as
popularity is concerned. They advocate the hermitage and teach
that every devotee should at one time spend three years, three
months, or at least three days in a cave with the object of silent
meditation. This usually works out with the most ardent in a
period of three months and three days. And there are some who
stop at three days. Nevertheless, Tibet does have its faithful
hermits who spend a good portion of their life in these caverns
of withering ignorance. Indeed, there is a chap in a cave near
Gyantse who has stayed there for twenty years and more j today
he is barely more than skin and bones, assuming that the spirit of
life is an addition. He will remain there until the life is extin-
guished, when his attendants will break through the encased
cell and remove the shell that remains. He has only a small
hole in the wall through which he can pass his arm in order to
receive the daily ration of grain that is passed on to him by
those who patiently wait for the fateful moment.
I have almost come to the conclusion that wherever one finds
a strict adherence to external rituals and discipline and devo-
tions, everything coming from that source can be discounted 99
per cent j these adherents know no more of the inner life of man
than does a cow indeed, not as much.
To come back to my friend of the Mystic Order of Igno-
rance. I must admit that I relished the story told me by my new
Lama instructor, who was opening up a new vein of Tibetan
knowledge for me. It took him two hours to tell it, never stir-
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Further Education of a Lama
ring from his Buddha posture. He did not reveal so much as a
twitch of the body as he sat there motionless, only his lips mov-
ing below his sparkling eyes. He had a comprehensive knowl-
edge of Tibetan literature, and he had a pleasing personality,
even though he may not be reaching Nirvana in this life. He
was like a regal human being living a normal sort of life, yet
not neglecting an opportunity to develop his spiritual side.
To begin with, unlike most Tibetan monks, he had long hair.
Then, he had his own private home, where he lived with his
wife and family and practised his daily discipline of study and
meditation, in accordance with the methods taught by his group.
There was no aura of sanctity about himj he was filled with
laughter, saw the drift in all things, and pointed out how fool-
ish certain beliefs were when considered from the point of view
of their philosophical foundation. He was always ready to pull
my leg about Christianity, about which he admitted to have no
vast understanding, having read only the New Testament in a
Tibetan translation. Yet after talking sense for a long while he
would suddenly come out with the wildest tale about sacred
objects of some old superhuman spiritual masters and saints,
who always lived in some remote corner of Tibet. One finds the
same sort of thing in India just when you have a fellow before
you with a little common sense, and you are willing to agree
with him as to the foolishness of certain practices, when out he
comes with the wild desire to run and take a bath in the sacred
river, the Ganges.
I had an appointment at ten o'clock to call on Thrimon
Shape, one of Tibet's ex-potentates, the same whose former
spiritual guide had now become mine. He held the reputation
of having been a Shap6 for a longer period than any one else,
and, having held the throne of power during his long term, his
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Penthouse of the Gods
present reputation was that of being just a little mad. The
beauty of it so I understood was that his slips usually came
at the most convenient time, and he seemed to be a perfect artist
in carrying them through. There is the story, for example, of
his running through the streets naked, which, when you get to
know him, sounds rather incredible, as he is a most sedate gen-
tleman. Indeed, he was dressed in all formality to receive me
when I paid him a hurried and informal call, which followed
his sending me gifts of barley, eggs and green vegetables.
The large courtyard of his house, which sheltered the stalls
for his horses, was extraordinarily immaculate, as was every-
thing else about the place. In front of the entrance to his house
there were large squares marked off with powdered chalk to
indicate the places from which the animals were barred. In ac-
cordance with the usual custom, I climbed up the dark ladder
staircase, but here again everything was clean, from the landing
to the top. His servants were also exceptionally clean, and the
house throughout was spic and span. There was not a thing to
be found out of order. On the small tea-table, which he had
arranged for my visit, was the finest linen which he had im-
ported from India.
As for my host, he was as mild and reflective as his age, and
dressed to perfection, which is usually the case with high of-
ficials. Even among them it is not so uncommon to find a greasy
spot on a projecting undergarment, but not so with him. I ven-
ture to say that he even took a daily bath. According to formal
custom, he wore his official hat throughout the visit} it was stiff
and shaped like one of our straw hats. The crown was not so
long, but a bit higher, and the brim was widen It was all made
of silk and felt, the silk being the "Regal Blue" of Tibet. His
face retained much life, and his manner was slow and deliberate,
with all the precision of a long disciplined life. There was not a
moment that you did not feel at ease with him, and just for the
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Further Education of a Lama
fun of it I deliberately at one time lapsed into silence, to dis-
cover how such a personality would handle the silence of em-
barrassment. I did not have a chance to try that for long, for he
promptly launched into a series of penetrating questions which
stimulated me to the marrow and made me talk as I never talked
beforej and his reaction indicated an intense interest. With the
end of his life nearing, his personality had grown reflective and
his imagination had a very mature quality, with a definite sym-
pathy for the host of youth for whom room and opportunity
must be made. Yet he would like to leave a stone along the
path that would indicate to those who follow which road he
felt the best after his long trek.
And so a very pleasant hour was passed, which whetted a
taste for more. It is the sort of personality that wins me over
more quickly than any other.
3
My Lama came the next morning at ten, and we spent four
hours together, after which I had a hurried lunch and did a bit
of writing, before responding at four to an invitation from the
British Trade Agent to join in a game of Badminton, which in-
cidentally gave me a special opportunity to meet other Tibetans
and increase my growing circle of friendship. On the other
hand, since on visiting a new acquaintance there was the need of
bringing a gift with you, the situation always promised em-
barrassment. The fact is, as often as not I found my cupboard
shelves empty. I was given, however, every consideration} and
forgiven were many of the oversights on my part.
Remembering the joy of my previous trip over the trail lead-
ing behind Chakpo-ri I decided to try it again. Once I left the
city a short distance behind, the air became fresh and stimulat-
ing, stirred by the gentle breeze of approaching evening. The
natives were sitting around small camp fires or winding their way
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Penthouse of the Gods
back to their homes. Everything tended to induce an undisturb-
able inner peace and made me want to linger a while. I had to
forego this pleasure, as they were waiting for me. Nevertheless,
I was able to tuck away a few thoughts that will always hold
this horseback ride in my treasury of feelings. Likewise, the
narrow ledge around the sheer cliff below the medical college
brought forth related thoughts; for again I saw their symbols
of worship hewn in the rock from one end to the other, with
the deities painted in color as an extra touch. About twenty or
thirty feet below, on my left, a small stream flowed through a
dense area of trees and low shrubs, and the sight of this and
the sound of running water added to my mood of ecstatic peace.
From this spot it was possible to look down upon the ani-
mals grazing, and, much to my surprise, I saw a large herd of
lightrcolored Mongolian camels. Of all the places where I had
expected to find camels, Lhasa was about the last. But then I
remembered that these camels had been used to cross the great
Chang-Tang (Northern Plain) of Tibet. These animals had
belonged to the late Dalai Lama, and were now having an op-
portunity to rest. Until the Divine Ruler appears again on earth
there will be no need to use them.
I found every one at the party in white ducks having a good
time, so I took a racket and joined in the game. We were just
lining up for it when a Tibetan guest and his family arrived.
To my surprise, he was greeted in English, and when we were
introduced he conversed with me in perfect English. Indeed,
he was one of the four Tibetans sent to England twenty years
before to obtain an English education} today three of them are
still living in Lhasa. The name of this one was Ring Gang, and
he was in charge of the Electric City of Lhasa. He was full of
ideas, which he expressed in a lively fashion. He removed his
Tibetan gown and revealed the typically English sporting ducks
he had on underneath. He joined the game with the remark
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Further Education of a Lama
that he had not handled a racket in fifteen years, but I noted
that he certainly caught on quickly. With him came his brother,
a man weighing about 300 pounds, who had been in charge of
the army in Kham for a long time. He felt considerably re-
lieved when I told him I had given up my plan of going that
wayj for he confirmed all I had heard of the dangers which
confronted travellers j indeed, things were getting much worse.
He offered to try to obtain the Kangyur and Tengyur for me in
the city. It did not look promising, all the more as I had heard
lately of efforts to obtain these books by Italy, France, China,
Japan, Russia, Germany and India.
Along with the men came their women, fine specimens of
Asiatic beauty, adorned with pearls, turquoise and rubies over
the blue and red silk blouses, worn beneath their gowns with
their rainbow aprons.
While waiting for dinner to be served, Mr. Fox turned on
the radio, and there was good music. Some one made the sug-
gestion to a small child of Ring Gang's he was only about five
that he dance for us. Much to our surprise, he came forward,
and what is more, he gave a performance which would bring
the house down even on Broadway. His footwork and hand
movements were simply perfect, and with a little training he
could certainly become a dancer of note.
Throughout the meal we listened in on Java, China and
Hongkong. Afterwards we retired to a large room downstairs
and were shown a movie. The room was crowded with Tibetans
who wanted a chance of seeing themselves on the screen. As on
the previous occasion, the audience provided more interest than
the picture j it was fun watching their fervent childlike re-
sponses.
The day came to a close with one of the loveliest rides that
I have ever had, returning in the moonlight along the lane
with barking dogs, beneath the Potala.
Penthouse of the Gods
On my arrival from this ride at Tsarong's I was too much
worked up inside to sleep, so I stayed up for hours and thought
over matters a bit. It is hard to say whether it is the inner na-
ture or the things I have been doing during the past year that
have brought about such a close feeling of contact with life. Un-
doubtedly, the sort of life one must live in these parts has some-
thing to do with the creation of this mood, for one is ever in
touch with the world of the spirit. At home we are usually car-
ried to our destination by means of some mechanical contriv-
ance, while here one either walks or rides, both of which bring
you into closer contact with life. The pony I rode was one of
Tsarong's finest. It was a very high-strung horse with all the
pride of the best of his race. Again and again, he flung his head
almost back into my lap. No matter how slowly he had to go,
it was nearly impossible to keep him from prancing with his
head among the clouds and their world of dignity. Regardless
of how dejected and tired his rider might be, I do not believe
it would ever be possible for one to sit on such a bounding spirit
without partaking of a little of it.
The diffused light over that magnificent palace stimulated
every pore of my body. The architectural gem of Asia was
wrapped in a midnight veil with which my inner spirit merged}
there was a flow and a diffusion of life, of which I was intensely
conscious. I could not escape the awareness of the importance
of living in a closer contact with that innermost self, which is of
the essences of life. One does miss a great deal of this side of
existence in the great centers of today, where everything has
become so mechanical and matter-of-fact. He even begins to
despise his fellow man, as he likewise despises us, and shuts
himself up in that chilled shell of reserve. This worldly mooH
is spreading so rapidly today that it is almost impossible to have
a human, or humanitarian, interest. Despite the crudity of it,
every one in the old forgotten Wild West was regarded by an-
Further Education of a Lama
other as a friend; the outlaw was the exception. I think that it
is still possible in our modern hubs of civilization to retain
something of the old friendly spirit, while clinging to the mech-
anism. I have many fnends who say that this is impossible; it
has been invariably their experience that after six months in
New York they no longer have that contact with the flowing
energy of life; or else, to avoid becoming automatons, they
have to flee to the silent groves of nature. Yet I have the strong
feeling that it is a matter of a little discipline, and that it is pos-
sible to yield in some measure to the requirements of our social
machinery and yet retain the inner contact. A pretty tall order
perhaps, yet then and there I resolved to learn something of
the methods for establishing the union. If a reconciliation of the
two ways of life is at all possible, some means must be found
to bring it about. It is not reasonable to think that there can be
150,000 million beings striving for happiness, with no chance to
salvation ahead- 1 knew then that my first test of all this train-
ing would come after my return to the world of external action,
when I should discover how much of this life of the spirit I
personally could retain. People today carry on at a terrific rate.
It all appears as a superhuman ambition, but where they are
going, and what it all has to do with their real selves, they do
not know.
When I went upstairs for lunch I found a rather large party,
for there was a Mongolian Lama who had just arrived from
Pekin, and one who had come here originally as a chauffeur
of the late Dalai Lama, who was very modern, having pur-
chased a Baby Austin and a Dodge and had a road built for
himself from his summer palace to the Potala. It was he who
had sent the four Tibetan boys to England, and they have more
than repaid all that was ever spent on them. It was also the
Penthouse of the Gods
Dalai Lama who introduced no end of flowers into Tibet, and
today all the flowers o sunny California are to be found flour-
ishing in the Holy City. The Tibetan takes great pride in his
flowers and has them in almost every room. Cut flowers are an
exception} potted plants are used almost exclusively for decora-
tion} the Tibetan is loth to cut flowers, whose beauty thus passes
away only too quickly. The flowers of Lhasa are one of the
things which must impress the newcomer, and for this beauty
alone the late Dalai Lama is deserving of the worship and de-
votion accorded his memory.
Another guest at the party was a strange Tibetan woman of
fascinating charm} and she had a large measure of character
unusual in Tibetan women. Had she been of our world we
would probably find her doing the work of Eleanor Roosevelt,
but here all her talents will die in the role of motherhood, un-
known to herself or any one else. I never learned her identity.
For a while I suspected that she might be a sister of Tsarong
Lacham, for she was nursing a child of a couple of years. If this
be the case, the child is the son of Tsarong, it being a good old
Tibetan custom that a husband may live with any of his wife's
sisters, if he so desires. The younger sister has a child by him,
a charming little girl who probably will begin her English
schooling at Darjeeling very soon. Tsarong himself told me
about his other children with a smile, adding the comment that
it was "not an American custom."
We still had our daily discussion, of how to secure a Teng-
yw. I must not leave Tibet without one. Here was one of the
world's greatest collections of literature, the storehouse of
knowledge of a whole race which has preserved the wisdom
of the ancient sages. It was becoming a bit absurd that I should
have to put so much effort into finding a set of books whose
contents should be known to a world eager for knowledge. Even
if I were saved the seemingly insurmountable task of finding
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Further Education of a Lama
the books so necessary to me, there would still be the vast task
of translating them a mere matter of 333 volumes* If I could
have my way, I should like most of all to select a staff of Lamas
and secretaries to begin this terrific work of translation; for as
yet I have not met any young students walking over half of the
globe to extract the secrets of the mines of the religious spirit,
whether they exist in Tibet or elsewhere. And, with so many
volumes to translate, it seems a pity to waste so much time in
the mere preliminaries. If the translation were actually started,
and all arrangements were made for its publication, it might be
twenty or thirty years before the dream could become a reality!
It was necessary to start at three in the morning for the Dre-
pung monastery in order to be there at sunrise, the time set for
the ceremonies in which I was expected to take part. Drepung
is about four and a half miles to the west of Lhasa, and the ride
there at the break of dawn, with the birds of the valley trilling
their scales of joy, was exhilarating. At this hour the Potala's
inspiring majesty assumed a new aspect, its serried roofs being
touched with the first glow of the rising sun. The valley itself
lies East and West, with a very low depression in the ridge at
the upper end which forms the path, permitting travellers to
pass on their way through to Eastern Tibet. At that point the
heavens were still a misty mackerel, with the early morning
colors visibly changing, and adding to the quiet ecstasy, which
seemed to be in the very blood. The streets were as yet almost
desolate of human beings, and the beggars were not yet at their
posts. Here and there, on the kerb, some one was performing
his morning ablutions, without the slightest concern for the
passer-by. After we had passed through the chorten gateway
leading into the Holy City we began to pass the donkey and
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Penthouse of the Gods
yak trains bringing their wares of grass, butchered beef, green
vegetables, wood, and cow dung to the market. The markets
here are busiest between five and seven in the morning, and
again during the last couple of hours in the evening after the
workers have returned from the fields.
We were received at the gate of the monastery by several
Lamas, one of whom was distinguished for his prodigious stat-
ure. He was at least three and a half feet across, and all of six-
foot-six in height. He wore a bright red robe and the regulation
Gelupa headdress, strongly reminiscent of the bright headgear
of the knights of the past; it was a brilliant yellow, and its ef-
fect in the early morning light was superb. Before him walked
his escort, who carried a heavy iron bar about five feet long
and two inches square with a thin spike at the end, extend-
ing the bar another several inches, and on its tip a yellow hat
had been placed. This iron bar, decorated with carvings, sym-
bolizes the authority of the sect. The high official before whom
it was carried had a little neophyte walking beside him to hold
up his gown and prevent it from dragging on the ground. From
the gate we followed along a path which ultimately led through
steep, winding, narrow passageways, often up still narrower
stone staircases 5 and all of it a labyrinth more confined in space
than the streets of San Francisco's Chinatown. The leader was
continually shouting, heralding the approach of authority, be-
fore which' all had to make way. It is the habit of every one in
this country to escape the presence of any high official, before
whom you must show every formality of humility and respect.
And so, given the warning, any poor fellow will duck into the
nearest alley rather than go through with it. Indeed, Tsarong
himself once told me of how he usually fled in the opposite
direction when he heard of a higher government official coming
his way; otherwise he would have been obliged to get off his
horse and wait until the potentate had passed before remount*
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Further Education of a Lama
ing. And members of the lower class acted in a like fashion to-
wards all officials, high and low, to whom they owed obeisance.
On this particular morning, however, a couple of monks, hav-
ing faded to dodge in good time, hovered together in a dark
corner, with bent heads and stooped shoulders, holding their
hats in their hands, scarcely breathing} for such is the custom
when a high official passes by.
This immense Buddhist monastery is situated in the upper
part of a deep nullah, among great masses of tumbled-down
boulders of sandstone, appearing for all the world like an Ari-
zona hillside. It received its name, Drepung meaning a pile of
ricefrom the famous Tantrik monastery of India, Sn-Dhanya-
Kataka, to be found at Kalinga and identified with the Kala-
chacra doctrine. Its three or four stories of whitewashed dor-
mitories give it the appearance of a pile of the auspicious rice
that is, if you see it at a proper distance. My own excitement
bore a more intimate character, since I was shortly to be a par-
ticipant in an early morning mass performed by thousands of
monks. While the official number of monks housed in Drepung
is 7700, that of Sera 5500, and that of Ganden 3300, these
numbers are mystical rather than factual} the real figures in
each case exceed those given by thousands.
It was a long hard pull from the great stone entrance to the
large rock-paved assembly grounds in front of the main tem-
ple, where all the monks from the four colleges which made up
the monastery had gathered for this mass. With each step we
ascended another few inches, yet I must admit that the way
was clean in contrast to what I had been led to believe from the
reports of others who had visited this place. The buildings were
all very close together, leaving canyons wide enough for two
persons to walk abreast or a single pack-donkey.
The monastery was erected by Geshe Rabsen-age Gyal-
Ts'ab-je in 1414, The final ascent to the Central Cathedral with
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Penthouse of the Gods
its glittering golden roof, which can be seen for miles from the
surrounding countryside, was a steep, rapidly rising ascent. It
was the thrill of a lifetime to arrive at the top and find all the
monks seated in long lines on the paved pavilion waiting to
catch the first glimpse of the rising sun. The general effect of
this seething mass of bareheaded men in reddish-brown home-
spun was that of a swarm of bees, for they were mumbling their
precious mystic formula and counting off their beads, as with
a furtive curiosity they observed the arrival of the bearded for-
eigner in Tibetan dress. If there had been any way to catch the
racing thoughts that passed behind those endless eyes f ocussed
on me, as I walked slowly up the steep stairway of the cathedral,
they would, I venture to say, have provided material for a fas-
cinating volume.
The first rays were to be seen on the distant peaks, and no
sooner had I settled down in the seat arranged for me than the
Lamas came around with the incense which I was to carry. By
now I was at ease. No longer was there any fumbling or hesi-
tation on my part} for I knew my ritual and had had some ex-
perience. Promptly I was up, and off with my handful of burn-
ing punk. I entered the great temple, which to my surprise was
likewise filled with monks, who were all chanting in the gloom
of early morning. I turned over the incense to the assistant and
made my devotional, as if I had done it all my life. Then I be-
gan the tour of the holy lanes, in which the sincere were recit-
ing their sacred formulas and the weary were sleeping with nod-
ding heads. Before the various shrines I left my stick of incense,
and after the customary ritual received the blessings symbolized
by these golden deities.
With the break of day the trumpets, the horns, the conch
shells and the cymbals burst into sound and continued until the
sun had drifted out of its shining crib. This was followed by the
deep rumbling of the chants, which, I warrant, would send
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Further Education of a Lama
quivers up any one's spine. Within this great hall was another
of their chief potentates, this time carrying his own emblem of
authority, and after each chant it came down with a thud, which
made the entire room vibrate with submission.
The time taken was scarcely more than an hour, yet the ex-
perience will live with me until the end.
Word had come that they had prepared food for me upstairs,
so I took up my photographic equipment and moved along to
partake of it. This time there was a regular monk's breakfast
waiting for mej it consisted of dough prepared from barley flour
poured into a half-filled bowl of butter tea. After this has been
thoroughly mixed, something made of other grains and mixed
with water and sugar is moulded into the dough, which you
proceed to break off into small portions until you have had your
fill. A bowl like this is devoured by them without difficulty.
How they manage it I do not know, for though I was hungry
in the beginning I found it difficult to finish it along with the
pieces of dried raw meat which go with the meal. It is certain
that a Lama never dies from starvation. Indeed, they eat far too
much to gain that spiritual insight which they are all seeking.
The truth is, only one out of every thousand is sincerely striv-
ing toward that end. During the meal the head Lamas honored
me with the presentation of their scarves. They were all dressed
in brilliant red robes, decorated with golden designs of heavy
silk embroidery.
After I had enough to eat and had taken pictures of the cere-
mony, a sacred tour of inspection began, lasting over four hours.
I will not speak of the army of images gods, goddesses and
ytdams which greeted me during the first hour. But I cannot
refrain from mentioning the set of Tibetan Tengyw, whose
covers were of carved sandalwood, and whose boards were deco-
rated at the ends with beautiful intricate Chinese ivory carvings.
Again, I must speak of some of the books, which were printed
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in red on one continuous sheet of paper printed only on one
side and folding up like an accordeon.
On our way to one of the holy shrines we passed a large
group of monks busy at the task of sewing garments for the dei-
ties, which are always dressed in the very finest silk. It is surely
a fine thing to be a god in this part of the world. There were
young and old at this work. A large population of boys under
fifteen years of age are kept busy at endless jobs within their
powers of endurance, when they are not engaged in studying
the scriptures, whose endless pages they must recite by heart on
the day of official examination before all the inmates of the
monastery.
The next shrine was the most holy place within the cloister,
full of golden deities, and we had to go through a number of
purification rites before crossing its threshold.
Four different colleges make up the monastery, and these are
again broken up into small subdivisions for the purpose of per-
sonal instruction. Each takes up a somewhat different aspect of
things, and persons tend to join the one most in accord with
their temperaments. There is one which all Nepalese attend
when they join the monastery. Then there is another devoted
entirely to Tantrik ritual, with Dorge Jig-je (Vajra-Bhairava)
as the chief deity. He is reputed to be the fierce aspect of the
merciful Chen-re-zi, and it was in a similar temple that I took
part in the ceremony to this fiend at the Rammoche. He was
represented here by an enormous image j his main head is that
of a ferocious bull, and he holds his counterpart in a consuming
embrace of flames with a single pair of his sixteen arms, the
multiple hands clenching weapons of war. Beyond the main nave
was a dark cell lighted by the dim flare of butter lamps j here
was another image of this fiend, along with many other such
yidamS) decorated with human skulls. One large figure was
firmly chained in the corner, and there was an inscription to
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inform you how dangerous he was, for he had caused a lot of
destruction and, finally, had to be imprisoned.
The chief college of the four has the finest temple, which is
beautifully carved and decorated at the entrance, and well
draped within with endless thangkas, many of which are fifteen
to twenty feet long, hanging from the beams of the high ceil-
ings. There were endless sets of smaller thangkas of minor in-
terest. It has been my experience that the finest examples are
nearly always found to be owned by individual Lamas or rich
believers in the faith who spend all that they have for perfect
workmanship.
I returned for lunch to the place where I had had breakfast,
and after I satisfied my hunger I made a call on a learned Lama
whom I hoped to induce to give me instruction. He offered us
endless cups of milk, an ordeal to be endured. His dark cell was
about thirty feet long and eight feet widej it was lighted up at
one end by a small window, where he sat on his mat among sev-
eral pots of lovely flowers, mostly of carnations in bloom. After
a long talk he promised that he would come and live with me
and instruct me in the various problems which I was eager to
know. He had a very pleasing personality and bore every token
of an arduous student, living the modest life of one seeking the
truth.
From his place we walked around the entire monastery
among the desert shrubs and large boulders of sandstone. Here
we were able to glimpse another aspect of the monks' lives, that
of work, for there were endless monks and women carrying jars
of water from the adjoining stream. There is no water within
the monastery} everything must be hauled in. If you could but
see the immense copper vats used for the making of the daily
tea, you would think it almost impossible to bring enough wa-
ter each day to keep up with the demand.
A visit to the temples of the four colleges revealed nothing
Penthouse of the Gods
new in the way of idols and objects of worship, with the excep-
tion of a small tutelary deity whose shrine stood in front of the
finest figure of Buddha that I have ever seen. It was that of the
Coming Buddha, and to the right and left of him were shelves
about thirty feet in height which held sets of the Kangyur and
Tengyur. The small image was almost wholly covered with
kataSy which devotees had offered it during their pilgrimages.
On either side were various instruments of war, signifying pro-
tection. These consisted, on one side, of a sheaf of arrows in a
bow, and a couple of spears along with a symbolic spear of over
three feet in length, their points being elaborated according to
custom with an adornment intended to represent a burning
flame, beneath which, forming a cross, was a dorje. On the other
side were similar instruments, except that in place of the dorje
was the representation of a flame with its points going out in
three directions. Then against the point in front of the deity
was a large iron arrow of about ten feet in length, with its end
extending beyond the shaft for about a foot and a half, being
six inches across the widest point.
In wandering around these various shrines we followed the
sacred direction of the clock, finding our way up and down the
paved alleyways leading between the countless houses, which
were all built out of hewn rock, and throughout the entire
morning I did not observe one bit that was filthy, as I had been
told it would be. All was the quintessence of cleanliness, a
mark in their favor when one considers the many monks living
here and all lack of a sanitary system save for the small house
with its hole in the roof. This method works fairly efficiently
in this part of the world, owing to the extreme dryness and
the cold weather.
The monastery commands an excellent view of the fertile
valleys belowj for it is spread out about half way up in one of
nature's amphitheatres, with a very rocky trail leading up the
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soil-eroded hill of crumbling sandstone. The main path which
we followed in the morning was bordered on either side with
white slack lime, or something of the sort, to indicate the royal
way. Most of the buildings run from three to four stories, but
there are a few which go up to five. Everything is white, while
the windows, protected by canvas canopies, have a wide black
border, which seems to be the custom in these parts. The large
canopies, which are spread over any desired patio to afford pro-
tection from either sun or rain, are rather stribng with their ex-
tensive sign in the middle; this sign usually comes in dark blue
or black strips. In many of the windows are to be observed boxes
filled with potted plants.
The hard, hot pull around the monastery had its rewards in
the views it offered of the country in which the ancient predeces-
sors of the Lamas had tried to isolate themselves for the pur-
pose of religious devotion. The trail, about five feet wide, was
worn clean by the countless footsteps that have passed over it.
On the west side it ran along a narrow ravine, sheltering the
stream which serves as the water supply. Its banks were teem-
ing with life, for those who did not carry water were washing
their clothes or were just having a sunning. To the right of the
trail was the high rock wall which surrounded the park of the
monastery, filled with a variety of trees, including endless apri-
cot trees laden with ripening fruit. Some of the monks retire to
this quiet spot for instruction from the head Lamas, who lecture
to them, and they also sometimes do a little studying out-of-
doors. Most of it, however, is done within the confines of their
small rooms. After you have climbed to the upper trail you ob-
tain a fine view of this large monastic compound, as well as an
extensive panorama of the valley threaded with endless small
rivulets branching off from the main Kyi Chu (Lhasa
River).
Immediately below us, at the foot of the hill, could be seen
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the small group of houses where all the butchering is done for
the monks. Its name in Tibetan means "skin-flag," for it used
to be the habit of the ruler of days gone by to have the disobedi-
ent killed at this place and flags made of their skins, which were
then flung out to the wind.
6
The horses met us at the bottom of the hill. We rode on to
the small monastery of Nechung, only a few hundred yards re-
moved down a beautiful trail of trees } here t!he chief oracle of
the Government resides. The story of its founding is that one
of the past Dalai Lamas captured an evil spirit, which was caus-
ing considerable destruction. After placing the evil spirit in a
box, he flung it into the river. One of the Lamas of Drepung,
having heard of it, sent a young disciple to fetch it, with the
admonition not to open the box. The temptation, however, was
so great that at this spot, immediately below the monastery, he
opened it, whereupon a pigeon flew out and lighted on a tree.
When he went to catch it, it vanished. On returning with the
tale to his master, the latter said that wherever that spirit was
kept, there prosperity would always come. So Nechung, built
in an oasis of trees, will always be a cloister of happiness, and
the chief oracle who lives here is in contact with that spirit,
whom he consults in order to be able to apprise the Government
on whatever problems may arise.
All that could be seen at first of the monastery was its golden
roof emerging out of the verdure. The trail to the building was
marked off on each side, but in red chalk, not in white as was
the case at Drepung. Immediately in front of the door leading
into the home of the chief abbot was a large swastika, which
looked auspicious. There was the usual food awaiting us, too
much of it, as always. The abbot was a very pleasant personality
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of about sixty some odd years, with an Oriental braided beard
consisting of a limited number of hairs that you might easily
count.
We walked about, while he pointed out endless things of in-
terest. Finally, we somehow drifted to the question of suicide.
He said it happened only rarely, even in great monasteries, and
that the usual method employed was that of hanging. An oc-
casional man dashed himself against the rocks below a high
cliff or flung himself into the river. The act is usually attributed
to the intrusion of some evil spirit, and whenever it happens,
certain rituals are promptly carried out in order to drive it away
and prevent others from putting an end to themselves. It was
impossible to dwell on the subject, since a ceremony was to be
held on the following day, and such talk was not considered
auspicious. It is more than likely that the night was spent in
ritual to banish the evil effects of the discussion.
About the time of my visit they had just secured a new oracle,
for the previous one had made the wrong guess when he pre-
dicted that the late Dalai Lama would survive his last illness;
the Government informed him that he no longer had the power
over the spirit, and it chose a successor to him. The method of
choosing and retaining the oracle is as follows: The candidate
all of a sudden begins having fits, and claims to have been en-
tered by the spirit. After a great deal of ritualistic investigation,
they decide if he is telling the truth. The method of summon-
ing the spirit is by retiring to the room in which the spirit re-
sides, and then, while others are performing the various appro-
priate rituals, the spirit enters the candidate, and he promptly
begins to be the spokesman of this ethereal soul. As long as his
predictions are verified, he retains the position as official oracle.
But let him once be wrong, without a perfect extenuating cir-
cumstance, then out he goes. He is wholly incapacitated for a
couple of hours after his performance, during which interval
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Penthouse of the Gods
the attendants take the very best care of him and help him to
recuperate.
This monastery shelters about 160 monks who act as internes
from ten to fifteen years, learning the various rituals, after
which they can take charge of private temples or conduct serv-
ices wherever they may happen to be. The special function of
this school is to train monks in the ritual.
Of all places that I have ever visited I must confess that it
would be difficult to find more inspiring surroundings j the
place is one solid grove of trees forming an almost impenetrable
shade.
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CHAPTER XI
MORE SIGHTS, MORE CEREMONIES
THE most interesting diversion of another day was a per-
formance given by four men and four women, the women
providing the vocal accompaniment, while the men
danced. One dancer in particular gave you the tingle of his in-
ner experience with the grace of his movements j you felt like
floating in the air with him. This group of travelling dancers
had been across the length and breadth of central Tibet, even
finding their way to Kalimpong during the winter months. I
could not resist the temptation of making an ample photo-
graphic record of this wandering dance team for the benefit of
my friends at home. Even though the sky was dark, I took a
chance on a few rolls of colored film, to add to the realism of
the record. They were real technicians at beating the drums
with the curved drumsticks which followed the drums tied on
behind them} they danced and gestured with their arms while
dancing, never missing a single beat. The men added to the
chorus with small hand cymbals, which clashed to the rhythm
of their footing. The dancing was followed by a few musical
numbers on their two-stringed violin-like instruments erected
on a gourd head, and a small stick was manipulated to stretch
the string.
The main event of the day was the ceremony held before
the tomb of the Dalai Lama at the Potalaj it was tremendously
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Penthouse of the Gods
impressive, and I thought myself infinitely fortunate in being
permitted to take pictures of it. I had to operate quietly and
unobtrusively, as they are very touchy and would prefer it not
to be done at all. But I was given special consideration, because
of my having gone around the world to make this sacred pil-
grimage j so they granted me the privilege of making a Mem-
ory Album of interiors while the ceremonies were in progress.
Many are the records to be had of the outer dead wall, but it
was given only to me to take impressions of the rooms filled
with the Lamas dressed in their black conical hats and waving
their dorjas and thunderbolts to the rhythm of drums and
droning horns.
The Potala is only about a mile away from Tsarong's home,
and as I approached it on horseback I was impressed anew with
the magnificence of the edifice towering hundreds of feet into
the heavens. Its rhythm is that of a rapid rhapsody, with no
two lines balancing, but forming a perfect composition by unit-
ing in the glittering roof of the gods. The entire structure is
protected by an inaccessible wall of stone with a walled barrier
in front of the entrance forming a short maze through which
one must pass under the guard of well placed slits for the pur-
pose of shooting without being shot. These guardian eyes are
placed at regular intervals all along the ever rising stone stair-
ways which one must mount before finally entering the sanc-
tuary. At the foot of this soaring structure of windowed rock
we left our horses, and began to climb, zigzagging back and
forth in order to gain the necessary altitude. As a rough guess
I should say that the building is around 500 feet high, or as
high as a fifty-story New York skyscraper, spread out in length
to three football fields, placed end on end. The sensation of
staring into space and peering into the clouds is for all the
world like trying to comprehend the Rockefeller Center on
Fifth Avenue. But there are no handy elevators here to fadli-
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tate your ascent and descent if your time is limited and you are
in a hurry to keep a luncheon engagement You simply have to
walk up, or stay down. The stairways of solid rock are about
twenty-five feet wide, with a stone railing about breast-high j
they rise in long steps of several feet. As you work your way
bade and forth to reach the entrance of the building proper, you
are able to get a beautiful panorama of the fertile Lhasa Valley,
from the towering Chak-po-ri at the western entrance of the
city to the low divide at the eastern end of the valley.
We passed through endless halls, ever rising into the higher
chambers of sanctity, on our way to the tomb where the cere-
mony was to be held. All the way we marched to the unceasing
sound of trumpets, of the blasts of horns, of the clashing of cym-
bals, and as we came into the opening of the courtyard, we saw
two enormous drums hanging from the ceiling on either side of
the door, and these appeared to be the only instruments about
the place that were not used to make a noise.
We were led through the kitchen, which appeared exactly
like the old kitchen dramatized by the Baptist in his Hell of
fire and damnation. It was about as black and seething a dun-
geon sweatbox as I ever hope to pass through in any lifetime.
Over the vast ovens of earth were immense vats of steaming tea
far above your head, and the only light to be had was from the
glowing coals of the fire. We got out of this in a hurry by
means of another flight of stairs to a small cubbyhole just
above the spot where the trumpets were being sounded.
Here I learned that the oracle was about to receive the particu-
lar spirit which resided at this place, and as there was ample
time before the ceremony to be performed before the tomb of
the Dalai Lama, I promptly hurried downstairs and around
corners to slip into the temple room, so that I could have the
privilege of witnessing this 'event and, perhaps, of receiving a
blessing from the oracle.
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Penthouse of the Gods
The din of the instruments did not let up. It sounded a very
slow and low pace. It was as i they were working up what we
should call a fitting "atmosphere." They were preparing the
place for the spirit as it were, coaxing him in. He seemed to be
a very temperamental spirit. The oracle came in, dressed in a
gorgeous array o yellow brocade, with a sort of witch-hat. He
seated himself Buddha-fashion, on the floor in front of his
throne. Four men held him in a mood of greatest tension, as
if to be ready for the moment the spirit made his entrance j for
them, the oracle was no longer a human being, but the recipient
of the spirit's confidence, and its spokesman. While he sat there
in silent meditation, in order to relax his nerves and yield to
whatsoever manner of convulsion this never-ending din would
induce, two rows of drums continued their beating on one side,
while on the other side trumpets went on with their unceasing
blast j at the same time about thirty seated monks were chanting
their sacred formula. At last he began to quiver, and the drum-
mers and the trumpeters drew closer and closer to him with an
increasing volume of mystic sounds, finally drumming and blow-
ing directly into the ears of the oracle in order to prevail upon
him to stay. After an hour of this unceasing rhythm even I
could not resist it and felt my emotions merge with the vibra-
tions of the room the spirit must have entered the oracle, for
he began to vibrate like a G-string on a base viol, while his f our
attendants were trying to hold him down. His strength grew
terrific, and they were forced to yield in the end, content merely
to keep hold of him to prevent bodily injury. With this he sud-
denly sprung from the floor, still in his cross-legged posi-
tion, far above the heads of all in the room. He repeated this
several times. Then he straightened out, and stood up, pacing
the flor back and forth before ascending the throne reserved for
the Dalai Lama. During this exercise he appeared to be keep-
ing time, and made a strange sort of noise very much like a
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hiccough. Then he made way to his throne, where several cups
of some kind of drink were offered him, he consumed it like
an accomplished heavy drinker. An attendant held a large
number of short red scarves, which the priests placed around
the necks of those making offerings to him. A congested line of
Lamas formed} they held the katas in readiness to offer them
to him as soon as they could work their way to his feet. During
all this time he continued his hiccoughing noise, and reciting
whatever the spirit would impart during the emotional fit.
Persons from all over the place were rushing to the windows
to witness the scene. Shortly he spoted the onlookers and,
reaching for a silver cup and anything else that came to hand,
he flung them in their direction with the splenetic fury of a
hysterical wife or husband.
Thus, I had to come to witness one of the greatest spectacles
of all Tibet.
By now it was time to go into the tomb of gold and make my
offering. Today they were performing the ceremony of Dorje
Jig-je, which was just a little different from the one per-
formed at Rammoche, different only in the matter of detail. It
took place in the uppermost part of the building, added on at
the late Dalai Lama's request. The monks had already as-
sembled, and the officiating Lama was the lifelong teacher of
the Master whose tomb this was. The space in front of the tomb
was limited, permitting only about a hundred monks to crowd
in, and leaving but small space for me to carry on my ritual.
After stumbling over black hats, bordered with mystical symbol
Sanskrit letters, I made my way to the central aisle at the head
of which was the priest in charge. I made my offering and re-
ceived his blessing. I felt an unaccountable excitement in stand-
ing before this golden memory, while the chamber vibrated
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Penthouse of the Gods
with beating drums and clashing cymbals, and the low mum-
blings of the chants.
It was here that I observed the first example of nude phal-
lidsm in the protector of the yidam, who was in heated readiness
to embrace his female counterpart who, with responding pas-
sion, was mounting his extended leg in eagerness to be pos-
sessed. Above the group was one of the finest thangkas that I
had yet seen} it represented this deity in the serious aspect of
Chen-re-zi, the patron saint of Tibet, the God of Mercy. His
image was very common, as the late Dalai was reputed to be
the reincarnation of this Merciful One.
The altar was alive, and all the lamps were sending forth
their small yellow flames, only to awaken a deeper feeling in
those who had come to express their devotion. Once you fall
wholly in tune with the mood of the room, you begin to experi-
ence the most agonizing pangs of yearning for an mtenser de-
votion.
The ceremony coming to an abrupt end, I continued my tour
of inspection, my first stop being in the shrine of Avalokitesvara,
where I had expressed devotion during an earlier visit of the
tombs of the other twelve Dalai Lamas. I saw some exception-
ally fine th&ngka$ y representing various demons. All the yidams
revealed different forms of sexual embrace with their Daktnts;
power and action are the two chief demands of these protectors,
and there is nothing that symbolizes this more forcibly than the
sexual aspects of life, with the consuming flames of destruction.
In every instance that I observed, with the single exception
already pointed out, one never sees the sexual organs, as the
yidams are always portrayed holding their counterparts in a
standing position, while the female clings to her consort with
her legs locked around his waist, pressing her heavy breasts into
his chest and entwining her arms around his neck. Her cus-
tomary hue is red, while he is usually black. I noted a few ex-
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ceptions to this combination} sometimes they are both of the
same color, and in one instance he was painted blue. Almost in-
variably, if you peer into the dark, you will see him crushing
human forms beneath his feet during his intense exultation of
passion in an aura of leaping flame.
The tour concluded with a walk beneath the eaves of the
golden roof of this newly-erected shrine for the late Dalai
Lama. A photograph I took of it gives a better idea of its beauty
than any description it is within my power to give.
The hour was now twelve, and the Lamas were on the edge
of the Potala roof, blowing their twelve-foot horns, so that the
villagers far below might be brought to a short halt for silent
prayer. The deafening rumble of these horns lasts about five
minutes in all. Every now and then one of the blowers pauses
to get rid of the accumulated saliva, then resumes his task, giv-
ing his neighbor a chance to do likewise.
Thence onward my journey developed into one continuous
orgy of photography. The environs of the residence of Buddha's
viceroy on earth surely deserved every indulgence of the cam-
era. The approach of the park is a long boulevard bordered
with tall poplars. It was along this road that the Precious One
was wont to be chauffeured in his small Baby Austin when at-
tending to business or ceremonies at the Potala.
On our way we were able to watch the Tibetans at the task
of rejuvenating the top of the old chorten which crowns the
entrance to the Holy City. There was a scaffold all around its
crown, upon which workmen could be seen painting and mend-
ing.
The entrance to the palace grounds, which are surrounded
by an enormous wall of rock, is of typical Chinese design in
a Tibetan variation, far less generous in the use of dragons.
The Tibetan does not use so much of the Chinese com-
bination of gold and green, but he does not spare reds and
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Penthouse of the Gods
blues, and in many places he uses gold extensively. To the left
of the twenty-foot gateway was a small guard-post cell with
three soldiers, who presented arms as we entered. The two
swinging doors must be all of fifteen feet high, with six yawn-
ing lion-handle grips on each. They are made of brass and
carved rather lavishly in keeping with the Tibetan tendency
to embellish everything they touch. They rarely leave material
in the nude, but always clothe it in handsome ornament. The
roof which covers the entrance has the appearance of green
tiles, and beneath its far-projecting eaves is the typical tiling of
Chinese blocks, with dragon gargoyles at the end, decorated in
the royal color. On the inside a small protective enclosure is
formed, with four large columns supporting the massive roof.
Two of these are of chiselled granite j they were the first pillars
of the kind that I have seen here. As might be expected, they
were not left bare, but were nicked up in artistic fashion. The
two wooden ones were painted red, according to the common
practice, and striped with three finely drawn yellow lines. In
very many instances, within the temples, these are wrapped in
heavy reddish-brown homespun cloth. At the top, where they
spread out for several feet and support the cross-beams, they
are always carved in some intricate design of flowers, or sym-
bolic flame on the sides, while a lotus, a lion, a dragon or a
lucky sign graces the center. As a rule, all this is placed against
a background of red, with designs painted in red, green, and
gold, and all bordered with blue. The ceiling of this small
waiting space was covered with a design which had a large lucky
mmdala in the center.
The large gateway leading into the old place where the
Dalai Lamas were wont to receive their court differed but lit-
tle from the gateway I have just described. There was the cus-
tomary row of yawning lions over the doorway, beneath which
was an auspicious inscription. This appears to be about the only
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way in which they try to take care of the future, they seem to
feel that if things are kept auspicious at all times, there is little
need to worry. A small courtyard of about thirty feet leads di-
rectly into the audience chamber. Just outside and under the
well-decorated porch were long, raised platforms on each side,
where visitors could wait on the large mats provided for them.
Just in front of the door as you entered was a small decorated
screen to give privacy to the interior} here the officiating monks
were sitting on the floor in two lanes facing one another, beat-
ing their drums that the good spirits might always be in the
room. At their head was the chief Lama, who sat in front of
a skull cup, sounding his small hand drum, which was beaten
with two mallets attached to a string and struck by the twisting
of his wrist, as the drum was held between his thumb and fore-
finger. In the other hand he turned and waved his dorje, while
his lips chanted the sacred mantra of the service.
From here I returned to the garden, where I took a short
path through the patio, where lectures used to be held under a
canopy of unbroken shade. A short distance beyond this clear-
ing was a large bird cage which held a pair of some rare feath-
ered creature, whose Tibetan name as far as I can render it in
English was something like "A pretty bird with a long neck,"
The path led to the small pond, which is formed like a large
rock reservoir, with a tiny rock path leading around it beneath
the bowing willows and stately poplarsj there is a low stone
railing to prevent the unstable from slipping. In the center is
the Dalai Lama's small garden house, connected with the main-
land by a well-constructed bridge. Some water fowl, for the
most part the colorful reddish Brahminy ducks, disported
themselves in the sun. The house, decorated in dull gold and
black, with all the usual Oriental intricacies, is set back from
the endless flowering plants, small trees and rosebushes. At
each of the front corners is a large iron lion from China to pro-
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Penthouse of the Gods
tect the Precious One. I have already told of the beauty of its
interior, with its small shrine of jade and coral. In all of India,
including Kashmir, there is nothing to compare with the beauty
of this spotj here you could settle down with your books for
the remainder of your life and forget there was a world beyond.
After inspecting the stables and the grounds of the former
Dalai Lamas, being dazzled by the brilliant glow of the sun
on a golden roof, I decided it was time for a little refreshment.
Our anticipated small lunch turned out to be a complete Ti-
betan dinner, provided by the Kashag, which apparently had
ordered that nothing be spared. By now a Tibetan meal is an old
story to the reader, and I shall not attempt to dwell on its de-
tails. It lasted over two hours amidst the finest natural sur-
roundings to be had anywhere. Before we had come to the end
the sky was black, and soon there was a light thunder shower.
I had to forego further attempts at photography for the day,
3
It was evening as we were returning to Tsarongfs after a day
filled with excitement and beauty. The cattle of Lhasa were
winding their way homeward ahead of the weary herdsman
who stumbled along over the dusty way. It was one of those
pastoral scenes of forgotten history recorded by poets and paint-
ers and unknown in real life to the bulk of our city dwellers.
All along the road leading to Lhasa we wove our way in and
out among the strolling herds, and so with the setting sun we
arrived at Tsarong's, too thrilled to find expression for our
mood in words.
During the lunch hour on the following day the tailor
brought my new Tibetan gowns. They were too beautiful ever
to think of wearing, but what with my regular clothes worn out
there was no alternative but to put them to use. Not that
there is any comparison between the loveliness of our clothes
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and theirs. Such a profusion of silks, colors, and designs
was revealed before me as to leave me gasping with astonish-
ment and admiration. I found that the Tibetans were delighted
over my readiness to wear the native dress, and it at once broke
down whatever barriers still existed between us.
My effort to concentrate on my studies was constantly inter-
rupted all that morning and afternoon by the almost unceasing
singing of many women who were working in the courtyard
laying stones. No sooner does the Tibetan man, woman, or
child begin to work than he begins to sing, and this does not
let up until he finishes his tasks at the end of the day. It's not
a bad idea at all, but when you think that it begins as early as
five in the morning when the flower-pots are watered, to sun-
down and later you cannot help realizing that it is too much of
a good thing.
The following day began for me at three-thirty, and hasty
preparations were made to leave for the Sera monastery, where
the monks were assembling for the ceremony scheduled to be-
gin at daybreak. It was a cool and brisk ride under a lowering
sky, between high dikes of sand and brilliant fields of yellow
mustard waving in the early morning breeze.
We were caught in a heavy summer shower, which soaked
us to the bone and made of my clean silk shirt a disreputable-
looking rag. But that made little or no difference in my spirits,
and I proceeded as though nothing had happened, my mind
reflecting on the compensations awaiting me at the other end.
In any event, I realized that it was the spirit that mattered,
and that the value of the entire ritual which I was making my
own depended wholly on the measure of feeling I put into
it, and that if I held the right thought good would be forth-
coming in many lives to come, even as similar endeavors had
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a like effect in many lives in the past Or else how was it to be
explained that I had wanted to come to Lhasa to take part in
these sacred ceremonies? Who is to say how right the Tibetan
teachers were in offering this explanation? Who is to deny that
they were right? For the scientists cannot disprove it, and the
Yogi has his own answer for all actions of manj he does not
believe that things just happen to him. Everything is governed
by a law of which he can gain understanding, and thereby learn
the meaning behind all unfathomable answers.
The monks greeted us just outside the monastery. The path
was laid out with auspicious signs all the way to the entrance of
the main assembly hall. Because of the rain, most of the monks
from the three colleges which constitute the place had to go
inside. In the course of an hour, however, the rain had ceased,
and about three or four thousand monks gathered in the large
paved courtyard just in front of the temple, while the rest
filled the dark aisles of mystery within the nave of the temple.
I was escorted to a protected corner, where they were plan-
ning to keep up my spiritual advancement with a constant sup-
ply of tea and food throughout the day. By the time I had some
tea and a typical Lama breakfast of tsampa, which one kneads
into a nice piece of dough with the addition of butter tea, I was
more than satisfied. But you continue to eat, out of a bowl
large enough for a horse, and by the time you are halfway
through you are surprised to find out that you have developed
a taste for it. From then on I looked forward to being able to
knead my own breakfast. I must confess that it makes living
a very simple affair. Indeed, the kneading I have already de-
scribed it earlier is done even while they continue their chants.
During the whole time of the breakfast they were murmuring
their long tea prayer, with the wielders of authority thumping
their heavy iron bars on the floor as they walked among the
faithful.
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The inevitable moment came when I took my place at the
head of the central aisle and, in my drenched gown, went about
my ritualistic tasks, differing but little from those of the previ-
ous ceremonies, already described. After visiting the shrine of
the large Coming Buddha I went to the more esoteric shrines
with their small glowing butter lamps beneath the butter chor-
tensy which are symbolic of the Buddhistic world, so entirely
different from our concept of the world. Indeed, they believe
they are right, and cannot understand why it is night-time in
America when it is day-time here. This is one instance of many.
I can scarcely convey the difficulties I got into every time I
tried to explain a single fact in the light of accepted scientific
research.
Well, the time came around to eat again, as it inevitably does.
The head Lamas from the three colleges had convened in our
dining-hall, situated in a small area between two buildings and
sheltered from the weather by a canopy. On the ground there
were carpets, upon which were lovely Tibetan mats, placed
before low tables from which we were to eat. The head Lama
of the monastery, who had previously given me his blessing,
joined us. Now that we broke bread together as normal humans
we had a jolly good time, and he was filled with laughter. For
contrast, there were two here that were lost to the world about
thirty years ago. One of them found life far easier to sit with
closed eyes and mumble the password to heaven, while count-
ing off his beads. The other forgotten soul had toured China
in his youth, but that was so long ago that he could no longer
remember it; not for him to give a thought as to whether the
earth was round or flat it had long since been decided for
him by Buddhist literature, which says that it runs straight
up and down. Indeed, he was ready to point out the folly of
modern mankind just imagine them trying to fly! God had
given wings to birds, but he had not given wings to man, who
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Penthouse of the Gods
should be content to remain in the station assigned to him.
There is little to do in such circumstances but live, learn, and
be happy, and let others do the same. It is to be remembered
that these people have had no contact with such world forces
as have acted upon usj there has been no stimulus to cause the
thoughts of the Tibetan to function in any other channel. Yet a
change is inevitably coming, and I fear within my own lifetime,
which means that my next visit to Tibet may be entirely dif-
ferent, unless I can make it very soon. I may say in passing that
Tibet has escaped the world-wide depression, and that all its
people are employed. Indeed, there is need to implore and to
bribe to get the more indolent Tibetan to work; for he is usu-
ally too busy with religion or something else to be able to
waste his precious time on such worldly things as work.
And, again, the inevitable tour of the holy shrines. This, I
must remark, is a privilege. Any one may visit the main tem-
ple, and while there is general willingness to extract a little
material aid, no amount of money will buy a pass beyond the
massive doors protecting the sacred shrines of the inner reli-
gion. The way is open only to the brotherhood, to whom all
the doors are thrown open; but once you have entered, there
is no escaping the duty of visiting every shrine and no way of
avoiding the stories of how this deity spoke and that one grew
toe-nails or finger-nails, and this one sweated and that one per-
formed some other function of the human animal. There is al-
ways one of these deities who has had a few words to say in
their dark caverns of contentment. I would speak, too, or do
anything in order to escape, but the Tibetan with his endless
tales of talking deities would buttonhole me and hold me
there very much in the way that the Ancient Mariner must
have held the Wedding Guest. I must mention one special
shrine dedicated to Guru Rimpoche. The room was filled with
small images and an endless collection of ancient weapons of
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defence. I venture to say that this was the first time in histor
that any one ever attempted a flashlight picture in this room, am
during the entire time of my attempts they were carrying o
prayers and burning Incense in order to purify my defiling ac
tion. The room was totally dark, with the exception of the din
light thrown by a single small butter lamp and a very tiny win
dow in a remote corner at the very top of the room. Differen
from anything I had seen before were some excellent wal
paintings of seven lucky Dakmis y who are so frequently see.
copulating with their favorite deities; this time they were alone
standing in all the vigor of their womanhood.
Then followed the walk around the monastery. The trail le<
high above the monastic world to a small building in whicl
the founders of the monastery used to study during its erection
And some way up the steep mountain was another small mon
astery, a part of Sera, which was used by monks who felt th
need for a little solitude j there were about thirty of them stay
ing there at the moment. Along the way amidst the wildernes
of crumbling sandstone we passed a couple of caves to whic
individual monks retire for study when the monastery is to
much for their concentration. The summit of our trail com
manded an excellent view of the Lhasa valley as well as of th
roof-tops of Sera. It is when you reach such places that the ide
of monkhood digs its way deeper into the consciousness of th
restless human being.
5
Many a time and oft I pondered on the singular fact tha
there seemed to be no more fitting place for sleep than Lhass
where all should be peaceful and the element of time elimi
nated; actually, this was far from the case. I am, of course, re
f erring to my own relation to the matter. These days held bi
little leisure for me to think of either sleep or peace. Alread
Penthouse of the Gods
I had to think of my approaching departure, of the thousand
and one details demanding my attention before I could set out
again on the homeward trek. All this, indeed, left me but little
time for study.
I had a piece of marvellous news. Tsarong had finally de-
cided to give me his Kimgyur and Tengyur > because he feared I
would take the chance of leaving Tibet by way of China. His
attitude was that my life was precious and that I should not
take any chances. Having already dedicated these books on the
shelves of his private temple, he ran considerable risk in per-
mitting me to take them} here, as elsewhere, persons are ever
ready to criticize on the slightest provocation.
Yet, having secured the books, the work only just began. I
had arrangements to make to obtain the necessary silk for
their markers, on which are indicated the contents of each vol-
ume j these markers generally project over the edge of the
shelf. Again, the books are supposed to be wrapped in silk, but
I decided to have this done in America. There were also the
board covers to be made, and this too I decided to have done at
home, all the more because they would increase the weight and
cost of transportation. I could not avoid, however, calling the
carpenter to build the boxes for packing the boxes, or finding
sufficient yak-skin for wrapping the boxes j this to prevent any
possible damage by the rains of India on the way to Calcutta.
All this, Tibet being the sort of place it is, involved far more
of my effort and time than would be supposed j and, literally,
it was to reduce my already diminished sleep to an uncomfort-
able minimum.
Indeed, the following several days were to prove an ordeal
and a vexation, tinged with not a little entertainment. There
was, for example, the selection of the silks. The man who came
discussed and re-discussed with me always the same point, driv-
ing me on close to madness. It was just the Tibetan's way.
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They simply cannot do business in a businesslike fashion. Yet
without their help I could do nothing. They enjoy making the
most of trifles. We talked and talked, like a couple of tempera-
mental nitwits j I certainly felt like one before I was done.
Tsarong sent us his own head tailor to hasten the task of pre-
paring some covers for my Christmas card, which he admired
hugely. The tailor sat cross-legged for an hour and a half, cut-
ting out as many covers as possible from the sample of mate-
rial which we had on hand, while I sat patiently and looked
on. In the meantime he had sent some of his men to the city to
find samples of different silks, and again I had to sit and wait
for their return, which of course took another hour or so. On
their arrival they had the silks, but had faded to get the prices.
Just a little too polite to mention such trivialities, I finally con-
vinced them that I did not have the slightest idea as to my
choice, for it was to be the price and not the design that was to
be the deciding factor. So one of the boys was sent back, and we
waited patiently for another long while. It is not all as bad as it
sounds, for a lot of fun can be had with them, since all Ti-
betans have an excellent sense of humor. At times I have seen
Tsarong double up on the floor like a child with laughter at
a good joke, and the Lamas can make the beams vibrate with
their low-rolling roar of delight.
Any one coming to my room would have thought that I had
opened up a tailor shop to see yards upon yards of silks strewn
around the room, and the tailor and his assistant marking it off.
The custom for taking^care of the precious sacred volumes is to
wrap them in large pieces of silk, after which each book must
be marked and indexed from the outside, so that one might find
the desired volume without having to unwrap each one. Three
royal colored covers are placed over the mark for decorative ef-
fect} beneath them is the plain yellow piece of silk on which is
inscribed the alphabetical number of the volume. With three
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Penthouse of the Gods
hundred and some odd volumes, it is possible to see how many
markers must be made, of course, they will promise them in a
week, but that means at least two weeks. It seems to be the
Tibetan way of calculating time.
I have mentioned the fact that the tailor spent hours in my
room yesterday cutting out covers for the Christmas cards, and
I thought at the time what a waste of time it was for me to
have to stick around. And now I discovered the reason for his
insistence on doing the work in my room. It is the practice to
cut silk in presence of the owner, since the workers are not
above stealing a couple of squares of silk, so the more honest
ones will insist on doing the work before you, so you will have
no cause to complain. He was with me for the entire day, and
when I went upstairs for tea, he also went out for tea.
There was a short discussion at tea-time about the Tibetan
custom of spelling and counting, which is always done by sing-
ing, much as we used to sing the alphabet as children in the
old days. There is perhaps nothing harder than their method of
spelling, which is a long devious task of repetition and pronun-
ciation of each letter of the word before proceeding to the next
letter, which wholly alters the sound of the previous letter,
which must then be repeated in its altered form. This you keep
up until you repeat the whole word as it should be pronounced.
There is only one Tibetan in a thousand who is capable of any
simple process of mathematical calculation. Usually he does it
by singing to a tune, which from a distance is rather pleasing to
the ear. It made me laugh at times to watch them try to figure
out a simple problem and promptly break into song. Even
Tsarong used to be vastly amused by it, and roar with laughter
at such unnecessary antics. In olden times they more nearly ap-
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preached our silent method, and made their calculations on a
slate, using the little finger to inscribe in the dust upon which
they would write. By the way, the Tibetan holds the pen be-
tween the ring finger and the little finger.
I have already spoken of Tibetans singing at their work.
When twenty or thirty of them are working together at the
same task they produce something that is worthy of being re-
corded. It seems they have a different song for every occupa-
tion, whether working in the field, plowing, sowing, harvest-
ing, or loading for market. Again, there are separate songs for
rock breaking, road building, sewing, weaving, grinding barley.
Indeed, there is no occupation without its own song. Once I put
the question to some one as to what would happen if a new
kind of job were to be introduced into Tibet, such as, for exam-
ple, the stringing of electric-light wires, or the like. The answer
was that they had such a large repertory of occupational tunes
that one of them was sure to fit in as the proper rhythmic ac-
companiment to the new work. It was explained to me that the
word content of the songs mattered less than the rhythm, which
must accord with the speed and manner of the work} and it was
claimed that these songs kept the workers going for longer pe-
riods without exhaustion. I must admit that it iis a pleasure to
watch them at their work with such a joy of heart. Having
tasted rather deeply of the moral oppression of the long-en-
dured strain of labor myself, I can well appreciate what it
means to them to carry on their burdens in such a blithe fashion.
Tsarong and I had a talk on Buddhistic art. He argued that
the outside world failed to comprehend the principles of this
art. He contended that this art was based wholly on philo-
sophical principles derived from religion. Art, as other infinite
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Penthouse of the Gods
manifestations of the spirit, has its only source in accepted truth.
The Tibetan artist cannot violate the principles of this truth by
doing something which does not emanate from the one and
only source. In order to understand their art, said Tsarong, it
is essential to be familiar with Buddhist teachings and to be
thoroughly acquainted with the symbolical meanings which are
deeply imbedded in their almost forgotten ancient tradition.
With beginnings in China, its Tibetan development led to new
adaptations, in art as in other things.
Now, however, the outside world only deals with the exter-
nal facts with which they come into contact on the border. It
would be found that all of their art is based on some religious
belief, even though it is only superficial. Thus, in working up a
design they will usually include all or some of eight lucky
signs: the golden fish, the umbrella, the conch-shell trumpet of
victory, the lucky diagram, the victorious banner, the vase, the
lotus, and the wheel. Or they will use something from the
Seven Gems: wheel, jewel, jewel of a wife, gem of a minister,
white elephant, horse, or the gem of a general. Likewise, with
the seven royal barges: the precious house (palace), the pre-
cious royal robes, the precious boots (embroidered), the pre-
cious elephant's tusks, the precious Queen's earrings, the pre-
cious King's earring, the precious jewel. Or they may choose
from the Seven Personal Gems: the sword- jewel, the snake-
skin jewel, the palace-jewel, the garden-jewel, the robes, the
bed-jewel, the shoe-jewel. Often the eight glorious offerings
are used: the mirror, the intestinal concretions, curds, darwa
grass, the Bilva fruit, Li-khri, the white turnip. Then, again,
the five sensuous qualities: the pleasing form (rupa), sound
(sapta), perfumes (gandhe), luscious eatables (naiwete), pleas-
ing touch and feeling (sparsa). Then there are various symbolic
diagrams and triagrams which are formulated on astrological
beliefs. With the Chinese, they use the Tortoise, the Phoenix,
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the Dragon, the Horse-dragon, the Tiger, and the five bats 'of
fortune (Luck, Wealth, Long Life, Health, and Peace). Along
with these symbols there is the constant use of various flowers in
conventional forms, each with its own degree of importance.
The colors, too, carry their own meanings, which have devel-
oped from esoteric understanding. Often they are used to indi-
cate moods. White and yellow represent mild moods! red and
black the fierce aspects; blue things of a celestial nature.
It is possible to go much deeper into these matters, but all
such material is already recorded in books, so I leave it to be
found there when wanted. All that I wished to indicate was
that the main point in these modern representations has been
lost. It is, for example, of little importance in itself that red
stands for a fierce mood} what is important is the knowledge
why this is so, and the answer to the question: is it universal?
The same applies to the rest of all this symbology. For if these
things are universal, the inevitable conclusion is that they must
apply to us equally with the ancients. In the teachings of the
Tmtra it is possible to discover where they originated, and
through the application of Yoga it is possible to apply their
universal origins to oneself. There is no real need to read a
fairy tale and then "take it or leave it." It is possible to dive
down into this universal flow of life and comprehend all of its
changing and stable colors, as well as all the forms which are
manifested in it. In the beginning there was an origin, a source
where all the strength lies, but with each succeeding readap-
tation something has been lost, until today the symbol scarcely
gives a hint of its real significance. Without a comprehension
of source values, modern investigators and commentators go
astray in interpretations which have no relation to the only
thing that matters. It is not the question here whether a wheel
or some other external design is used to represent a certain as-
pect of life, but rather that the lines of certain things induce
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Penthouse of the Gods
certain rhythms, creating universal moods j the inference is that
such knowledge could be used deliberately and with effect, in-
stead of leaving things to chance,
It is not reality that we should seek in art, but the fleeting
glimpse into the incomprehensible beyond, a glimpse over
which the ideal of every heart is wont to linger in the effort to
escape from the unhappy reality which chills the emotions. It
is the nature of man to feel conscious of a power behind him
bound to no fetters. Sure of his limitations at every turn, he has
devised countless mythical tales inhabited by dragons, giants,
heroes, etc., last of all thinking of his saints, which the world
has not ceased to produce even to this day. We take pride in
our vast knowledge. We like to feel that there is nothing that
science cannot accomplish, but our greatest idealists are our most
successful scientists, a fact not without real significance.
[288]
CHAPTER XII
SIDELIGHTS AND INSIGHTS
DURING the day there were frequent interruptions of the
dancing Ache Lha-mo, who are the professional lay
actors, to be differentiated from the Lamas, who also
put on performances. Groups of them travel throughout Tibet,
and some of them go as far as the border at Kalimpong, where
I first saw them. From the first to the eighth of the Tibetan
seventh month they are permitted to play in the city, at which
time they go from house to house, usually to those of the big
officials} during the rest of the year they are not allowed within
the walls. On the twenty-sixth of the sixth month they gather
and put on a small dance behind the Potala outside the city. On
the twenty-ninth they perform in front of the Potala, and on
the thirtieth in the courtyard of the palace, where the fifth
Dalai Lama was wont to stay when he went to the Drepung
monastery. These actors appear before the Dalai Lama, if liv-
ingj then before the Regent and the houses of the most impor-
tant officials. They keep this up for the full eight days allotted
to them, and are amply compensated. It is probable that they
can live the rest of the year on the rewards earned during this
brief period at Lhasa.
At this time of the year the first part of August the weather
is at its best, and this dancing and acting period is known as
shel-ton, or til which means "dancing time." There were five
different groups that came the day beforej I understood that
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Penthouse of the Gods
they would be coming at that rate every day until the festival
came to an end.
The performances consist of the enactment of various native
tales, which are the stories of the famous persons and saints
of Tibet, and are devised to entertain and make people laugh.
The attire of the actors does not undergo any change with the
different roles. They wear small attractive triangular masks,
covered with long white hair, which runs clear down to the
middle of the back. The brown skirt is draped from the waist
with long tassels all the way around, with a small white ball
at the end of each} and all of it goes up in the air fully their
height when they perform particularly rapid gyrations, which
are certainly graceful. The performance is carried on to the beat-
ing of a drum and the clashing of cymbals, with an increase
of rhythm to accent the high spots and to intensify the speed
for the rapid whirl for which one is always waiting.
Early the following morning I was again interrupted by the
Ache Lha-mo, who put on a show of the dancing wild yaks,
and I must confess that I got an uncommon lot of fun out of it.
Indeed, I yielded to temptation, for I had made up my mind
that nothing would take me from my studies. As I heard the
beat of the drums and looked out, I saw two enormous repre-
sentations of wild yaks. Two pairs of men dressed up in yak
skins took the parts of the front and the rear of the beasts. Each
animal was covered over with the skin, and the head of a yak
made it all appear very authentic. The leader beat time with a
stick like a drum major, and demonstrated excellent control
over his animals, who seemed marvellously trained. At no in-
stant was any part of the body still, and an occasional convul-
sion of the rear evoked responsive convulsions of mirth from
the onlookers. Now and again one of the animals would make
a sally into the crowd, which scattered like a flock of feeding
pigeons. The performance lasted fifteen minutes in all. Other
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Sidelights and Insights
dancers continued to make their appearance throughout the
day, but nothing equalled the early morning show.
Then came another day, dark and rainy, with the streets of
Lhasa resembling running streams o sewage and human flith.
It was the kind of day on which Lhasa is the filthiest place
on earth. And there was a party to which I had been invited
at Ring Gang's. I left at about lunch time, and though the way
to Ring Gang's was but a five minutes' ride, I was so splashed
over by the time of my arrival, that I must have presented an
unpleasant sight. The British Mission, with Dr. Morgan, had
arrived a bit earlier j and I sat down with them to a cup of tea
and trivial chatter. Then all the Tibetans settled down to a
game of Mah Jong, which left bridge for the rest. At first I
escaped, but when, finally, some one had to leave, his hand was
forced on me to play. I had not played bridge in many years,
and now I was in the game from about lunch-time till ten-
thirty in the evening. Ring Gang joined us, and was my part-
ner. It was fun to be able to beat two Englishmen.
There were several women present, lavishly dressed, with
their breastplates of turquoise, diamonds and rubies set in red-
gold boxes hung around their necks by strings of ^alternate coral
and a stone they call "eyes," and pearls. Large coils with such
pearls and these stones with three "eyes" will run into a thou-
sand rupees or so, while the box runs into several thousands.
One wonders how they can afford such an adornment, as it is
impossible to obtain a complete set under 10,000 rupees. They
love jewelry here, and seem willing to pay any price to have it.
The wife of a wealthy official, when fully dressed, will repre-
sent several lacs.
After endless dishes of tasty Tibetan food, we resumed
bridge. The Tibetan seems to be always at home, for right in
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Penthouse of the Gods
the middle of a card game a basin of water was brought, in
which Ring Gang washed his hands with the greatest delibera-
tion. In our society this, of course, wouldn't be comma il j<w,t.
But this was Tibet, and we all liked it.
The best thing the following morning was a visit by the
dancers, who still had a few days in Lhasa before taking their
final departure.
It was a busy day, and one of confusion, due chiefly to the
arrival of the finished boxes for the transportation of the Kong-
yur and Tengyur. It looked as though I should need fourteen
such boxes for these books, and an equal number for the mis-
cellaneous books, without taking into account the many odds
and ends collected within recent weeks. Their transportation
threatened to become something of a problem, because they
were asking fifty rupees per mule from Lhasa to Kalimpong.
(There was my own personal transport to be considered as
well.) It is easy enough to make a calculation of what these
fifty animals would cost, figuring the rupee at forty cents.
After some bargaining, the price was brought down to thirty-
five rupees, but I came to no decision, hoping to get it down
closer to thirty. It is amazing what can be accomplished here
by persistent complaining and bargaining.
To avoid the waste of time, which I badly needed for my
study and investigations, I hired two Lamas to classify the
books.
About the same time news came that the person who had been
sent to procure the sixty-four-volume set of books containing
all the Tmtrik teachings had arrived in Lhasa at last. I had
about given up hope of his return, for he could have been back
weeks ago. But there was no saying what a Tibetan would do.
Along with this we received the Sum Bums (Lives) of two very
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important figures. One is Pu-t8n, who compiled the Kangyur
and Tengyur in their present form. The other is Mar-pa, who
brought the religion to Bhutan. The latter set of books presents
a complete history of the religious development and teachings
of the Kargyupa sect. Each set embraces over twenty volumes.
Twenty-five volumes wholly devoted to Tibetan medical sci-
ence were also on the way. Moreover, I was in possession of nu-
merous manuscripts, some of them in three and five volumes.
At the moment it did not look as if we should be ready to
leave next month. I was hoping, however, that once the she-tu
was over and the people returned to normal life, we should be
able to make some progress. A tour of inspection I made with
Tsarong provided much interest. There were at least fourteen
tailors working at top speed on the silks, which lay in lavish
profusion about the room, flaunting their reds, blues, and yel-
lows. Both the markers and the covers of the Christmas cards
were taking shape, and if the dozen artists would do their part
I could count on their being finished in fair time. The writers
and paper makers were also making some headway. It is really
interesting to watch Tibetans at work, and again and again one
marvels how on earth they are ever able to get anything done
with none of the equipment which we seem to feel is absolutely
essential. If you will but feed them tea all day they will go on
turning out work. This is rather a good notion, for it certainly
keeps up their spirit. It is always understood that no matter
what the nature of the work, those who hire them will provide
them with at least one meal and serve them tea all day long. In
many instances, the hire consists only of feedbg them dur-
ing the job, so they simply come and live with you until the
job is over. In any event, a small wooden table about seven
inches high is placed beside a group of workers, and small
drinking bowls are kept filled with butter tea throughout the
day. A large teapot is set over a bowl of smoldering dung, and
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it is always near by. There is a constant attendant to see to it
that the cups are filled. When you consider the fact that the
pay is next to nothing, you begin to realize that the cost of the
tea and the service is a mere trifle.
We left the tailors to pay a visit to the carpenters, who were
making the boxes for the Kangyur and Tengyttr, as well as the
other boxes for books and personal equipment. There were
eight of them sitting cross-legged on the floor, buried in shav-
ings and working rapidly, as they held the boards between
their toes and planed away with tools which we had thrown into
the discard centuries ago. Not a single modern tool is to be had,
and no such thing as a ruler, but only a piece of stick, which
they seem to understand. Yet there is virtually nothing that
they cannot turn out and, surprisingly enough, with a polish
which no modern tool could improve upon.
Then we visited the Lamas who had come to live with us
until the job of classification and indexing was done. The three
of them were with great care going over every page of the
books, which lay scattered all over the large room of about
twenty-five by thirty feet. They worked from daybreak until
far into the night, but at the end of each day they showed very
little progress. I was beginning to doubt if they would ever
finish it.
In all I had over forty persons in my employment and under
my supervision, and the indications were that double that num-
ber might have been employed to advantage. But no more
workers were available, and coolie labor was out of question
here.
I had my own work to do, too. I was experiencing a feeling
of guilt about not using every instant for my studies, which had
suffered so many interruptions. I got down to working between
times. I was particularly concerned about my progress in the
language, to which hours of constant drill were so essential.
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The system is too complicated to explain here, and it is quite
beyond the difficulties of our Western languages.
On this particular evening I wished to do some studying,
which I generally did by lamplight. But something went wrong,
or they ran out of oil, so I contented myself by taking a short
stroll in the darkness of Tsarong's lovely garden. In typical
Lhasa fashion the electric lights did not come on, though they
have electric power in the city. At best, it is a nice toy, for the
light it provides is no better than to be found in an Indian
hotel or in one of our closets. It is hardly bright enough to at-
tract the bugs. There is no telling any day whether the lights
will come on, or at what hour.
Well it was for me that I finished my studies very early the
next morning, for by nine o'clock we were off to a dance at the
Regent's, not to return until six that evening. Moreover, I was
to discover that my next two days would be similarly occupied,
as the Regent's invitation, which I could not refuse, extended
to a three days' festival. To sit in the same place for three days
in succession, and to watch the same dance for three days, un-
able to understand what they are singing, and all the while
stuffing on Tibetan food, becomes a bit of a bore, even if in this
instance it was very much of a privilege and gave you a chance
to see high-class Tibetans entertaining and being entertained.
Dressed in the Tibetan regalia of gold, I plunged into the
mud and filth of Lhasa with my escort of five. I did not know
where this bodyguard came from, but it being one of the re-
quirements of the country I always found it at hand, and there
was no reason to give it undue thought. There are times, how-
ever, when servants are something of a nuisance. I may be in
a hurry, too, and want to do things myself. Here they are yours
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Penthouse of the Gods
to command, and that does not always please me either j for it
seems to me they have as much right to their leisure as I have.
This may not be the right attitude to hold, but having observed
the lack of consideration paid to servants during past years and
at the same time having some understanding of their feelings,
I find it difficult to behave toward my servants according to
formj in consequence of which they take more or less a holiday
and then we all have a good time.
It was a twisting ride through the streets of Lhasa. I vow
that God must have been watching me, for at one instant, while
passing close to a house, out came a bucket of slops or something
worse, and it missed me by scarcely half an inch! Had not the
horse under me taken a sudden lurch forward, I should have
been drenched properly. And I was perhaps unduly proud of
my new Tibetan costume. In any event, I was aware that I
could not possibly return with this costume in its former im-
maculate condition. The rain and the mud would see to that.
Indeed, when we left the party at five-thirty, it was thundering
and lightning, so my servants and I made a dash for home,
scattering men, women, and children, along with donkeys and
dogs, which always lie in the middle of the street and will move
on no condition except when they are stepped on, which is fre-
quently the case, when they scamper away howling and yelping
at the top of their voices. They are thicker here than flies in a
Mexican village, and their sole sustenance seems to be the faxal
deposit of the natives. On the whole, we did not do badly. We
did brush aside one old man wobbling along on his stick, too lazy
to move to a side when he heard us coming and saw every one
else scattering. Then, again, in rounding one of the corners in
a hurry, there was a girl who appeared deliberately to run to
the middle of the narrow lane, where she paused to have a
frontal view of us. She got an upward view as well, for we left
her lying in a puddle of mud looking up at the horses who were
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quickly passing over her. She probably learned her lesson, and
is still talking about the episode. At times I felt more exasper-
ated with the populace which always persisted in clinging to
the middle of the road than with our own pedestrians who in-
sist on crossing the path of your car against the signals when
you are in a tearing hurry. This probably all denotes a very
cruel heart, but one who has never experienced the meaning of
life in these parts will never understand the feelings with which
this is written. This, be it remembered, was the land of the
Gods, not of men.
But I am anticipating. On our arrival at the patio of the Re-
gent's house, we found it packed with humanity and the dance
well under way. I hurried up to the third balcony, where a spe-
cial tent had been arranged in the center of the stage. I scarcely
reached the gate when the dancers lost the attention of the on-
lookers, whose eyes were focussed on the bearded head project-
ing out of a body draped in gold. It is really extraordinary the
excitement a European in Tibetan apparel may cause out here.
The setting was the precise counterpart of a Chinese theatre.
It consisted of a large slabbed pavilion in the center beneath
a high canopy, surrounded on three sides by two tiers of veran-
das, which were crowned with a row of tents specially erected
for the honored guests. The English Mission and I seem to
have rated first place; our seats were right in the center, oppo-
site that of the Regent himself, who had a tent set up on top
of the temple which, as it were, formed the fourth tier.
The Prime Minister's place was beside the Regent. Beneath
them sat the Shapes, and below the Shapes were the fourth-
rank officials, with all the lower officials occupying a tent on our
level, but situated on the side rather than in the front, where
we were. The Regent's place was bordered in front with a long
row of flowering pots, and the interior of his tent was decorated
with yellow silks of a regular pattern along with draperies
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adorned with immense dragons. The whole setting was the pa-
vilion in front o the Regent's monastery.
The women were in their showiest attire, save for the seething
mass of rags sitting on the ground below. It is these contrasts
that stir the soul of one in Tibet, for above are the representa-
tives of God on earth, while below is poor starving humanity
huddling together for warmth in such tatters as they have been
able to find in garbage heaps. We in the West have our slums
and the like, but the contrast this offers to the wealth of our
capitalists is trifling when compared with the contrast these poor
folk of Tibet offer to the dignitaries and the potentates. In our
country there are a few, with their numbers growing ever
greater, who put forth some effort to bring about a change j but
here there are the Perfect, and not for them is it to think of those
in Hell, for such is the judgment because of their past lives.
There is nothing that fires the heart to such a temperature as
does the religious racket in this part of the world. I imagine
that if I were an integral part of this society, I might be filling
the role of the person who is now incarcerated in the dungeon
of the Potala, with his eyes gouged out, while his son, apparelled
in yellow silk, is sitting among the ranks of the minor officials
in the presence of the Regent. They don't seem to have as much
valor in Tibet as there is in a Negro running through a grave-
yard on a dark night. And the reason is Religion the deepest-
rooted evil of mankindthe sooner it is done away with, the
more quickly will humanity begin to rise. When I say Religion,
I mean this organized control, this dictating of sainthood. There
is that latent religious feeling in the heart of every man, and
this aspect is the richest part of every man's lifej but there is
scarcely a thing to be found on any organized religious system
today which we could not do better without. So it might be bet-
ter for a while to turn our course in the opposite direction and
call it by another name, so that there will not be any reversion
Sidelights and Insights
to this faithful path of ignorance. It well-nigh drives me to rage
because there seems to be so little that can be done about it-
nothing but to let it ultimately destroy itself by deadening the
hearts of men as it has deadened mine} and then when the group
of rebels is large enough it may find a way to disseminate the
right spirit.
The performance was of a play put on by the Ache Lha-mo,
whose dancing in recent days I have already touched upon. This
particular play enacted the bringing of the Chinese Queen to
Tibet. Its story briefly is as follows: Delegates from the most
powerful countries in the Eastern world were sent to the Chi-
nese Emperor to request his daughter in marriage. As there
seemed to be some difference of opinion within the Court as to
whom the Princess should be given, the Emperor decided to set
the candidates a test of skill and to award the Princess to the
winner. So there was no end of devices, such as mixing up
large groups of mares, chickens and other creatures with their
young and requiring the candidate to select the parents of the
young. Again, the candidate was given a stick and was asked
which end had come nearest the root of the tree. All the can-
didates were called upon to drink chcmg, which made them
drunk. The wily Tibetan among them, before drinking, made
an offering to the Gods. Many girls were fetched} they all re-
sembled the Princess, and each candidate was permitted to keep
the girl he chose. The Tibetan, having gone to an astrologer,
got tipped off that there would be a turquoise fly about the face
of the real Princess. In the circumstances, it was a walkover for
him. The Emperor had no alternative but to send off the
Princess to Tibet, with the sacred image, which is reputed to be
the same which sits today in the famous Tsug-lag-khang, the
holiest place in Tibet. In return the Tibetans brought presents
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to the Emperor. This simple little tale was performed during
nine hours or so, which meant that we had a chance to consume
two complete meals and, heaven alone knows, how many cups
of tea!
The dancing was rather monotonous, relieved now and then
by rapid twirling by individual dancers. One dancer excelled in
this. On a back cartwheel he leaves the ground entirely, never
once touching it with his hands, but maintaining his equilibrium
by a series of quick thrusts with his feet, and so all the way
around the pavilion.
It comes with something of a shock to see one of the dancers
stop and blow his nose on the ground and clean it with his hand,
then wipe the hand off on his lovely silken apparel. Still worse
is it to be sitting at a dinner table next to a Lama and have him
pull out his striped Tibetan handkerchief of woolen cloth lined
with silk, into which he blows his nose all the year round, and
yet another year after that. Even without being squeamish, it is
almost too much to watch him pull out this folded article and,
after stretching it apart like something glued together with un-
treated rubber, and filling it up a little more, and rolling it up,
wipe off his face with it, only to repeat the process ten minutes
later as a preliminary to sniffing in a dab of snuff, which is used
by all the Lamas; high and low.
While I was standing on the edge of the roof, the Chinese of-
ficial came over to say Hello to me, he having the tent next to
ours, and shortly Rai Bahadur Norbhu told him the latest news
from London about the Japanese attacking Nanking, whereupon
the Chinaman flew into a rage and began to drool and froth at
the mouth, and members of his armed escort drew their guns-
Heaven knows what would have happened next. Fortunately,
Norbhu said nothing more but retired, and I had to make a
private call on the Chinaman, by which time he had more or less
returned to a normal state. But it would have been fatal to men-
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tion the Japanese again; he would have surely wiped me off
the face of the earth. It had been a tense moment, and we all
thought there was going to be a killing 1 , and the crowd was
gathering rapidly. You could hear him shouting above the
drone of the beating drums, and all eyes were focussed in our
direction.
This was the second day of the great festival given by the
Regent. Tsarong said it was to be the biggest of the three days.
The place was to be packed more densely than ever.
Not being in a hurry to get there any sooner than was abso-
lutely necessary, at ten o'clock I once more plunged through
the mud and the slop of Lhasa streets. When your own pony
was not bespattering you with mud, the one in front or behind
was doing a good job of it. Indeed, a wad hit me on the back of
the neck with the force of a well-packed snowball. Tibetan
women, lavishly apparelled and bejewelled, not one of them
with less than 25,000 rupees' worth of ornamentation, were
holding up their skirts and clinging against the wall as we passed
to avoid being bespattered with mud by our ponies. The con-
trast of women so beautifully dressed and wading through such
incredible filth is perhaps to be found nowhere but in Tibet, and
it goes against the gram with an onlooker like myself. Not that
the Tibetan would understand my attitude any more than I un-
derstand his. Right or wrong, I myself follow the accepted line
in my garment of gold and silk, and twitch every time a speck
of mud strikes me.
I found the dance well under way. The English Mission,
however, did not arrive until round eleven-thirty, which gave
me the idea that I would do a bit of tarrying myself on the
morrow. By now the performance assumed something of a rou-
tine air, with an occasional diversion from mirth-makers in ani-
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mal dress. Little wonder they have a real fondness for Charlie
Chaplin, for there is nothing that brings down the crowd as
quickly as the sight of some one being chased, having a fall
and being hit with a whip or a club. They appear to have their
jokes and their wisecracks, but from the two or three Fve been
able to pick up I shouldn't say they were highly exciting. At
today's performance they had more deer, elephants, dogs, hunt-
ers and clowns than at the show of the day before. The costumes
of the regular actors were very much the same. The reader will
have guessed that I did not think very much of this Tibetan
show. Perhaps, this is due to my training. But whether or not,
only sheer necessity would ever bring me to the experience of
witnessing a show such as this.
The crowds came pouring in from the street, which was noth-
ing but one large puddle of water that had been kneaded down
to a nice oozy mud. Along the sides of the street, in the middle
of small ponds, small native shops were temporarily erected
beneath umbrellas, very much after the fashion of hot-dog
stands at our large public gatherings; but in this case the smell
was somewhat different, waves of warm air wafting our way a
mixture of human filth, accounted for by the fact that just in
front of the temple was a small blind alley of about sixty
feet in length, at the end of which men, women and children,
to say nothing of some Lamas, were squatting together, with
the dogs almost knocking the small children over before they
could finish their task.
Such is the land of mystery, next to the filthiest place on
earth. If it ever got hot in this country which God forbid!
the sewers of Paris would be clean in comparison.
Not that I care to go into the details of the necessities of na-
ture. Yet one's experiences in this part of the world are often so
singular that it is hard to resist. Having sat long in one place,
the time at last arrived when something had to be done about it.
Sidelights and Insights
So when one of the servants came in, and in all politeness asked
us if we would like to go out, I acquiesced only too willingly,
and with actual glee. I followed him below to join a queue of
about twenty of the loveliest Tibetan ladies waiting for the
same purpose as myself. So there we stood all together, watch-
ing the ladies lifting their beautiful silk skirts from the ground,
which was flowing over from the effects of poor marksman-
ship. As one finished, the next in line stepped forward to occupy
one of the three slits in the floor of the filthiest room that I
ever hope to stand in as long as I live. It was not without its hu-
morous side, for they would look up at me with strained faces
broken by grins of amusement, while I tried to hold my ground
without batting an eye. I must confess, however, that it gave me
a queer feeling to be attending to the wants of nature in such
intimate association with the elite of Lhasa. Thus, I had a
rather personal insight into things feminine. It was not one to
inspire pleasant reminiscence.
So I returned to my tent satisfied to stay on for weeks if
necessary before making another attempt at anything outside
of returning home. Then, of course, there was still the play of
the day to watch.
It was the story called u Zug-gi-nyma Nainthar," and here
is the gist of it:
There was a King who suffered disappointment in not hav-
ing a son. So one day one of his hunters came in and reported
that while he had been hunting in the woods he saw a beautiful
maiden. He advised the King to pursue her and make her his
Queen. The King indeed already had several hundred Queens.
The girl was the daughter of a hermit, who did not want to
give her up, nor did she wish to go. (It must be explained here
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Penthouse of the Gods
that the girl's mother was supposed to be the Tibetan deer, the
Sha, and the story goes that when the hermit was washing his
clothes in the stream, the deer came along and drank the water,
and the child followed in due course.) The King pled that he
would die if she did not come, and she yielded to the plea. As
might have been expected, the King's espousal of the girl caused
a lot of jealousy among the other wives, to whom he no longer
showed the same attention. So they planned a trick to get rid of
her. After many lies had been told the King about his new
Queen's actions, he sent her back to the forest, where it was
thought she would surely die. But instead she became a nun and
wandered about the country doing the good work. This went on
for about twelve years, during which the King repented of his
action and spent his time in grief, thinking as he did that she
was dead.
In the course of time, one of the Queens came to this nun
to confess her sin of having told the King the evil things that
had caused him to dispose of the hermit's daughter. On hear-
ing the story the nun invited her to come to her regular quar-
ters, and to go through a certain ceremony and make her
repentance, whereupon she would be forgiven. One of the
Knights of the Court recognized the nun, and told the King
about her. The King refused to believe that the Queen was still
alive. So the Knight went to the nun and told her that he knew
who she was; he also told her about the King. Then together
they made a plan that the King should come to this place at
a certain time and hide while the confession was being made by
the other Queen. This was done, and the King on learning the
truth more than ever regretted his error. After considerable
persuasion the nun was induced to return to the Court and to
become the favorite Queen, and every one lived happily there-
after.
It took them nearly nine hours to unfold this tale, which did
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Sidelights and Insights
in fact have some funny spots. The actors, however, spoke so
rapidly that I found it almost impossible to understand them.
Indeed, the Tibetans themselves find it hard to catch some of
the words.
8
Next morning, with my work out of the way, clad in my yel-
low namsa (Tibetan robe), I left for the play at the Regent's.
It was the first time I had seen the sun in days, and, in con-
sequence, I felt in good spirits. The roads were still filled with
muck, but because it had not rained in the night there was a lit-
tle consistency to the road under my pony's feet. Apparently,
the villagers thought it was going to be a good day, for they all
had their shops set up in the middle of the large square, where
they held their daily bazaar. They were deceived, however, for
around four it rained as usual j nevertheless, they had the start
of half a day's takings, which might have brought them enough
to buy a cup of butter tea for dinner.
On my arrival I found only a very sparse crowd sitting on
the slab floor of the patio. The truth of the matter is that there
was little enough room for them even if they had wanted to
come. So much of the place was filled with expansive puddles
of water, so that they had to find the high dry spots, which did
not leave much room for a crowd. After a couple of hours an
effort was made to remove the water, which appreciably in-
creased the sitting space. About two in the afternoon there were
as many people as there had been on the previous two days. One
wonders how on earth some of these poor devils can see any-
thing at allj they are always required to sit on the ground,
which means that a short fellow in the rear is just out of luck.
And there is little chance of cheating, for there are about half
a dozen guards who saunter up and down all the while with
their long ten-foot poles made from the thin branches of trees
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Penthouse of the Gods
that the girl's mother was supposed to be the Tibetan deer, the
Shai and the story goes that when the hermit was washing his
clothes in the stream, the deer came along and drank the water,
and the child followed in due course.) The King pled that he
would die if she did not come, and she yielded to the plea. As
might have been expected, the King's espousal of the girl caused
a lot of jealousy among the other wives, to whom he no longer
showed the same attention. So they planned a trick to get rid of
her. After many lies had been told the King about his new
Queen's actions, he sent her back to the forest, where it was
thought she would surely die. But instead she became a nun and
wandered about the country doing the good work. This went on
for about twelve years, during which the King repented of his
action and spent his time in grief, thinking as he did that she
was dead.
In the course of time, one of the Queens came to this nun
to confess her sin of having told the King the evil things that
had caused him to dispose of the hermit's daughter. On hear-
ing the story the nun invited her to come to her regular quar-
ters, and to go through a certain ceremony and make her
repentance, whereupon she would be forgiven. One of the
Knights of the Court recognized the nun, and told the King
about her. The King refused to believe that the Queen was still
alive. So the Knight went to the nun and told her that he knew
who she wasj he also told her about the King. Then together
they made a plan that the King should come to this place at
a certain time and hide while the confession was being made by
the other Queen. This was done, and the King on learning the
truth more than ever regretted his error. After considerable
persuasion the nun was induced to return to the Court and to
become the favorite Queen, and every one lived happily there-
after.
It took them nearly nine hours to unfold this tale, which did
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Sidelights and Insights
in fact have some funny spots. The actors, however, spoke so
rapidly that I found it almost impossible to understand them.
Indeed, the Tibetans themselves find it hard to catch some of
the words.
8
Next morning, with my work out of the way, dad in my yel-
low namsa (Tibetan robe), I left for the play at the Regent's.
It was the first time I had seen the sun m days, and, in con-
sequence, I felt in good spirits. The roads were still filled with
muck, but because it had not rained in the night there was a lit-
tle consistency to the road under my pony's feet. Apparently,
the villagers thought it was going to be a good day, for they all
had their shops set up in the middle of the large square, where
they held their daily bazaar. They were deceived, however, for
around four it rained as usual} nevertheless, they had the start
of half a day's takings, which might have brought them enough
to buy a cup of butter tea for dinner.
On my arrival I found only a very sparse crowd sitting on
the slab floor of the patio. The truth of the matter is that there
was little enough room for them even if they had wanted to
come. So much of the place was filled with expansive puddles
of water, so that they had to find the high dry spots, which did
not leave much room for a crowd. After a couple of hours an
effort was made to remove the water, which appreciably in-
creased the sitting space. About two in the afternoon there were
as many people as there had been on the previous two days. One
wonders how on earth some of these poor devils can see any-
thing at allj they are always required to sit on the ground,
which means that a short fellow in the rear is just out of luck.
And there is little chance of cheating, for there are about half
a dozen guards who saunter up and down all the while with
their long ten-foot poles made from the thin branches of trees
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Penthouse of the Gods
with the green leaves still on the end. Moreover, they are the
regular Lhasa police, who have strong canes, with which they
rap any one not conforming to the custom j some of them too
have whips with long leather thongs, with which they strike the
more persistent offenders, who must stay down, whether they
can see anything or not. Then, again, there is some custom as
to the wearing of hats. I had not ascertained what exactly it was,
but on one occasion I saw a woman's hat knocked off. She was
apparently not wearing the regulation headdress, and had put
on a felt hat very much like the felt hat we wear here in the
West. Today this is the hat commonly worn by all Tibetan
traders. Then there was a Lama who put his shoulder coat up
over his head, as the Lamas were wont to do when walking in
the sun, for they never wear hats and always shave their heads.
No sooner had he covered his head than a guard knocked it off
with his stick. Again, I observed the magistrate making a terrible
fuss about some one who was doing the wrong thing in the mat-
ter of headwear, but I could not make out just exactly what it
was.
The magistrate, it may be worth while to note, was one of the
boys who had spent five years studying in England. What would
his old school friends think of him now? Among his duties was
to walk around in a red cloak at such functions as this and to
see that everything was properly conducted. These boys were
sent by the Government, which practically has full control over
their lives, as it does over every one else; indeed, the Govern-
ment's control over the sons of officials is supreme. The children
as they grow up must take their positions under the Govern-
ment, and if one of them has an inordinate amount of luck he
may find himself ultimately a Shape. On the other hand, there
are four Shapes in all at any one time, and such plums usually
fall into the laps of the most influential families.
[306]
Sidelights and Insights
Once more I arrived ahead of the British Mission, in time to
see the Shapes, the Regent and the Prime Minister take their
usual places around eight o'clock. They moved from their seats
only twice in the course of the day, and that was when food was
brought around. They, like the rest of the crowd, seemed to
enjoy the performance, for there was no end of light laughter,
though you seldom heard a good hearty laugh. Again, I ob-
served that there was no such thing as the clapping of hands
in response to a good performance.
This day's play, which began about eight o'clock, had this
story to unfold:
There were two Kingdoms, one in the North, the other in
the South. They had been quarrelling and fighting for some
time. The rulers of the South tried to find a way to defeat their
rivals, so they consulted the sorcerers, who promised their help.
The first effort proved a failure. The next time they advised
throwing poison into a neighboring lake, which the people of
the North were wont to frequent. The Gods of the lake were
distressed and incensed. The Goddess of the Lake, addressing
herself to a fisherman from the North, promised him a reward
if he would kill the sorcerers. After he had accomplished this,
the Gods took him to their place below the water, where they
gave him a wishing gem, which would make any wish he had
come true. Dubious of its value, he consulted a couple of great
repute. They directed him to a hermit of the upper valley. This
Lama had been meditating in his cave for one hundred and
sixty years without any one disturbing him, so he felt this visit
must be of some import. He told his visitor that some cere-
monies would have to be performed first, but that he had an
important affair to attend, as the fairies were assembling at a
certain spot and he had to be there. As the fisherman, being of
[307]
Penthouse of the Gods
the butcher class, could not attend this gathering, he advised
him to wait until his return. The fisherman, impatient, chose a
point of vantage to watch the fairies' gathering, then conceived
the notion of capturing a fairy in order to present it to the King.
The Lama hermit read his thought, and told him that one of
his class could not do that, for the fairy would disappear. He
advised him to return the gem to the Goddess of the Lake and
to ask for a certain net with which he might catch a fairy. The
fisherman did this, and returned with the net to find that all
the fairies had returned home, save two, who had some cere-
monies to perform before becoming fully purified. He captured
one of them. To frighten the fisherman, she transformed her-
self. But the fisherman, being an incarnation of Chan-dor je,
likewise reverted to type. On discovering the nature of her cap-
tor, the fairy yielded, and he took her and presented her to the
King of the North, who duly rewarded him.
But this was only the beginning of an interminably long and
involved tale about the King of the North who had a hundred
wives, jealous of the new Queen (the transformed fairy), and
about a sorcerer whose aid they invoked to dispose of her, and
about dreams, and about the old Lama hermit and of course
it all ended in the King and the Queen living happily there-
after.
And thus the three-day festival came to an end. Just before
the final act the servants began to clear away the flowerpots
which decorated the center of the stage. And at the very end
the Regent and the Prime Minister sent down their sacks of
tsamya with their scarves. The servants of the Shapes, along
with the Mission, myself, and other guests, presented our gifts
with the sacred scarves. All of the guards, watchmen and others,
who managed the show, passed by in line and each received a
scarf from the Regent. We sent our scarves to the Regent, who
returned the courtesy. So there was no end of scarfing. Then
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Sidelights and Insights
followed the rain of manna from heaven, for at the end of this
as of the previous days the Shapes flung down small corns
wrapped in a kata. As soon as those below gathered up their
gifts, they took a large canvas and walked with it beneath the
balcony of the other guests and caught the gifts like so much
ripe fruit falling from a shaken tree.
CHAPTER XIII
GATHERING UP THE LAST THREADS
I HAD never realized what a holy room I had been occupying
until one morning I had a visitor with some books to sell.
His partner, on entering the room and observing the com-
plete set of Kangyur and Tengyur next to my shrine, immedi-
ately went forward and began mumbling off his wuwtras y which
took several minutes and made the room hum for a while. Af-
terwards, he stepped back a short distance and, after placing his
hat on the floor in the customary manner, he thrice prostrated
himself, all of which would bring him considerable merit-
some day at some place, but no one knew when or where.
They did not worry about this aspect of things in this country*
They were going to store up virtue, and let the rest take care
of itself.
While this chap was going through with his short ritual of
devotion, his partner was doing his best to drive a bargain. As a
matter of fact, I already had the volumes he was offering, but as
they were difficult to obtain I thought I ought to buy them, pro-
vided I could get them at a more reasonable figure. These sellers
are never the actual owners of the property they offer for sale,
but only middlemen who do it on a commission basis; so they
could not give us an answer until they had consulted the owner.
With the booksellers gone and the Lamas well under way
with their job of indexing and Tharchin off to the city to do
some things for me, I retired to my study to enrich my mind
Gathering Up the Last Threads
with matters for which I had come here. The rainy weather,
which had been keeping up for some time, was actually an in-
spiration to work indoors. Yet on the score of the rain I was
getting a bit nervous, I had yet many pictures to take in and
about Lhasa; I had been waiting for good weather for almost a
month. I heard it said that it would come within a week or so.
Indeed, I hoped so; as I did not want to nurse any lifelong
regrets. This morning it looked as if I should have a nice long
stretch of work, but there were endless interruptions. There was
a stream of visitors with articles I had been trying to get for a
month and had given up hope of ever getting. I took a few
objects off their hands.
Tsarong had expressed the hope that I would remain in
Lhasa long enough to see a part of the great feast which he
would be giving shortly. He puts on the finest show in Lhasa,
being in a position to do so. Since I was now planning to leave
earlier than I first anticipated, he came forward with the sug-
gestion to give me a farewell party, to which he would invite
all the friends I had made during my stay. He said that all the
lower suites of the house would be decorated for the occasion
and that he would erect a huge tent in the garden in which we
all might have a grand time in order, as he put it, that I would
have such pleasant memories of Lhasa as to create the desire in
me to hurry back as soon as possible. He added that he would
be heart-broken if I did not return before he died, which
touched me deeply.
And, indeed, the very next morning I could hear the rap-tap-
tap and the buzzing of the saws breaking the air in the midst of
singing hearts, for now the carpenters were preparing the cross
beams for the carvers. These are used on the outside of the
shells to decorate Tsarong's new temple room. It is impossible
for Tibetans to work without singing, so the house was full of
music for the greater part of the day. Even the littlest chap,
CHAPTER XIII
GATHERING UP THE LAST THREADS
IHAD never realized what a holy room I had been occupying
until one morning I had a visitor with some books to sell.
His partner, on entering the room and observing the com-
plete set of Kangyur and Tengywr next to my shrine, immedi-
ately went forward and began mumbling off his mmtiras y which
took several minutes and made the room hum for a while. Af-
terwards, he stepped back a short distance and, after placing his
hat on the floor in the customary manner, he thrice prostrated
himself, all of which would bring him considerable merit-
some day at some place, but no one knew whenor where.
They did not worry about this aspect of things in this country.
They were going to store up virtue, and let the rest take care
of itself.
While this chap was going through with his short ritual of
devotion, his partner was doing his best to drive a bargain. As a
matter of fact, I already had the volumes he was offering, but as
they were difficult to obtain I thought I ought to buy them, pro-
yided I could get them at a more reasonable figure. These sellers
are never the actual owners of the property they offer for sale,
but only middlemen who do it on a commission basis j so they
could not give us an answer until they had consulted the owner.
"With the booksellers gone and the Lamas well under way
with their job of indexing and Tharchin off to the city to do
some things for me, I retired to my study to enrich my mind
Gathering Up the Last Threads
with matters for which I had come here. The rainy weather,
which had been keeping up for some time, was actually an in-
spiration to work indoors. Yet on the score of the rain I was
getting a bit nervous, I had yet many pictures to take in and
about Lhasaj I had been waiting for good weather for almost a
month. I heard it said that it would come within a week or so.
Indeed, I hoped so; as I did not want to nurse any lifelong
regrets. This morning it looked as if I should have a nice long
stretch of work, but there were endless interruptions. There was
a stream of visitors with articles I had been trying to get for a
month and had given up hope of ever getting. I took a few
objects off their hands.
Tawrong had expressed the hope that I would remain in
Lhasa long enough to see a part of the great feast which he
would be giving shortly. He puts on the finest show in Lhasa,
being in a position to do so. Since I was now planning to leave
earlier than I first anticipated, he came forward with the sug-
gestion to give me a farewell party, to which he would invite
all the friends I had made during my stay. He said that all the
lower suites of the house would be decorated for the occasion
and that he would erect a huge tent in the garden in which we
all might have a grand time in order, as he put it, that I would
have such pleasant memories of Lhasa as to create the desire in
me to hurry back as soon as possible. He added that he would
be heart-broken if I did not return before he died, which
touched me deeply.
And, indeed, the very next morning I could hear the rap-tap-
tap and the buzzing of the saws breaking the air in the midst of
singing hearts, for now the carpenters were preparing the cross
beams for the carvers. These are used on the outside of the
shells to decorate Tsarong's new temple room. It is impossible
for Tibetans to work without singing, so the house was full of
music for the greater part of the day. Even the littlest chap,
Penthouse of the Gods
whom I judged to be about twelve, was amazingly skilful with
the sort of saw that we haven't used since the fifteenth century.
As soon as the beams were ready, a couple of fellows with
planes smoothed them; then they were turned over to the
carvers. Three of these stencilled their designs and commenced
work with their crude tools, which, however, were as sharp as
razor blades. They worked so rapidly that they completed their
job in less than no time and the hall was quickly back in its orig-
inal state of quiet.
In Tibet people start work at the break of day and if you ask
to have something brought in the morning, it is assumed you
mean the morning and it arrives at five o'clock! This time it was
another large collection of books, and I spent some time coming
to terms. In this country one never buys anything the first two or
three trips, but by the time the seller has dragged them back
and forth a few times his ardor for high prices cools down con-
siderably. It seems to me to be a poor way of doing business,
but as it is the custom of the Orient there is nothing to do but
to fall in line.
This was the fifteenth of the Tibetan month, which is a spe-
cial day for making offerings. On such days the Government
performs a large ceremony at Tsug Jag-khang and minor cere-
monies elsewhere. This is truly a theocratic country. The streets
were full of devotees going to the holy shrines with their butter
and chang to make their bimonthly offerings, in order to store
up virtue for the next life, whenever and wherever it might be.
They surely go to a lot of trouble to rig themselves out in their
best to struggle through the mud and filth of Lhasaj presum-
ably the difficulties make their effort count the more.
From the Rammoche, where I went, I returned to the market
place, because there was a chap there who, having committed
Gathering Up the Last Threads
murder, was wearing a large three-foot-square board around
his neck, which was very reminiscent of one of our colored boys
at a arcus with his head thrust through a screen ready to dodge
your ball, which you buy five for a quarter. At the top of this
contrivance was a long hand-written statement of the crime
which he had committed} and now for the rest of his days he
would remain in confinement, with the privilege of wandering
from place to place after a stay in the public market-place. To
my surprise, he was very willing to have me take his picture,
and as often as I chose. I rewarded him with a few coppers,
since he had to depend on the bounty of the passer-by for his
livelihood. The market-place is situated in front of the Tibetan
court building. On one of the neighboring walls were pasted
various notices which gave the latest news of the Chinese-Jap-
anese situation, and there was a large crowd gathered reading
them with strained necks.
Even quite apart from the rainy season, Lhasa is not a com-
fortable city to live m. Conveniences simply do not exist. Living
conditions are more primitive than our own centuries ago. Since
all Tibetans live on the floor, their furniture is anything but
elaborate, and by no means conducive to the comfort of the
Westerner. It would fall the average European to double up
on the floor hour after hour. Indeed, he cannot do it, unless he
has learned to fold those legs of his in early childhood, or hap-
pen to be an adept at acrobatics. Again, there is the Tibetan
food, which is no substitute for the European food, and one
must learn to dispense with our table implements and master
the more difficult chopsticks. As for the personalities the Euro-
pean will encounter here, he would consider them boring if he
should try to hold them up to standards of his kind} to enjoy
life with them is impossible unless one learns their ways and
acquires sufficient knowledge of their language to join in their
fun.
Penthouse of the Gods
My own deep attachment to the place is due precisely to my
having overcome every one of these difficulties, so that if needs
be I could live life here as at home. A prof ounder reason is that,
as a result of the last year's experience connected with my
Tibetan visit, I have been able to gam some knowledge of my-
self. In Kalimpong I prepared the physical aspect, and sounded
depths which I had not known to exist outside of fiction. Since
then I have been able to carry on and meet all externals of life
in the faith of this deeper feeling toward life in general. It is
truly beyond words to express the rhapsody of life when one is
able to sense the rhythm which lies beyond all the externals of
life. It is not to be denied that form can offer its own glimpses
of pleasure, but that which lies behind the form holds untold
joys for one as long as he lives. After such an experience as
mine one begins to see the world as smaller and smaller, in-
stead of, as with us, more complex and infinite} at the same
time one sees it deeper and deeper, for sooner or later all forms
begin to bring one back to the same thing} so it matters little
what one's environment is, and the all-important thing is to
have that uninterrupted solitude which will permit one to pene-
trate deeper and deeper into the mystery of life. These depths
are not those of understanding, but those of feeling. And that is
why it is so incredibly difficult to convey to others your mean-
ing. So-called rational men quite sincerely think you are "not
all there," and you as sincerely can return the compliment
and with good reason, too!
It has been by no means a singular experience. Thousands
down the countless ages have tapped the same source of joy.
They have tried in vain to find words for these feelings. The
truth is, we must sense it for ourselves. The words of others can
only point the way. It is very much like a father trying to tell
his very young son the meaning of love. The child will never
come to know that passing ecstasy of adolescence, of the first
[314]
Gathering Up the Last Threads
embrace, until he has experienced it j all the poems of the earth
cannot reveal it. Now that joy of which I am speaking is very
much the samej for the personality gains the embraces of every
form of nature, and he lives in perpetual ecstasy as long as he
remains thrall to his passion. But as he comes back to the surface,
he still has all the forms of the outside world to stimulate his
return.
Considering the little tangible knowledge we possess on this
aspect of life, the way to these joys is long and arduous. Yet I
am strongly under the impression that the way can be made
much easier, so that great multitudes may have a sip of these
spiritual joys in the same way that every man living can taste
of the pleasures of love without having to read Havelock Ellis
or some equally renowned authority. But even in this, only
those who have the greater understanding ever come to know
the lasting joys of love and are able to penetrate its nuanced
depths} for it is not instinctive with man tp sound the bottoms
of this fountain.
Now that the day of my departure was growing ever nearer,
all sorts of matters, social and otherwise, pressed thick and fast
upon me. There were parties, visiting and receiving visits, fill-
ing out gaps m the library and objects I was taking with me,
studying, packing, taking pictures and moving films. I was
gathering up the loose threads. I could dwell upon my activities
at this time for pages without exhausting the voluminous diaries
I faithfully kept. I must content myself here, however, with
the high points of my experience or with trivialities of general
interest, and at all cost avoid the repetitiousness inevitable in
the life I lived in Tibet. '
In particular, I indulged in an orgy of photography, anxious
[315]
Penthouse of the Gods
as I was to make a complete record of an experience in many
ways unprecedented.
Among other things I paid a visit with my camera to the med-
ical-temple of Chak-po-ri, which is situated just outside the city
gate and is built on the high peak which forms the upper end of
the small hill on which the potala stands. If anything, the Med-
ical College is a trifle higher than the Potala, and forms the
point of the pinnacle which magnificently rises heavenwards.
The trail zig-zags back and forth, and at a certain point we
were forced to leave our horses behind and begin a stiff, steady
climb. The only point of interest was one small, square building,
which housed the chief medical deity along with the usual dei-
ties to be found in all shrines. There was nothing distinguished
among these, except possibly one Chen-re-zi, which was en-
tirely covered with small seashells. This was quite out of the
ordinary for Tibetj but this in itself is no merit. On the con-
trary, the impression was quite distasteful. There was also a
small chorten entombing one of their high medical Lamas. The
science must have died with him, for medicine seems to be a
lost art here.
A later episode was my visit to the Rakashas, a famous Lhasa
family. The Lacham had been at our party, and I observed her
arrival in a beautiful Tsang headdress. When I went into the
tent to ask to be allowed to take a picture of it I suffered a dis-
appointment, for she had already removed it. I was perplexed
as to how to overcome my difficulty, being most anxious to have
photographic records of the two principal types of headdress
used in Tibet. Here had been my chance, and I had missed it. I
put it up to Mrs. Tsarong, and her response was that she would
arrange everything. Indeed, there was the prompt invitation to
tiffin at her house and to take the pictures. It was most gen-
erous of her to go to the infinite trouble of rigging herself out
in all that elaborate finery and to make a party of it.
[316]
Gathering Up the Last Threads
The house being rather near, we decided to walk over, even
though we did have to wade through a small pond which had
not yet receded from the rain floods to permit a path. The
Lacham met us at the head of the stairs adorned to the last
word in Tibetan grandeur. Truly it is impressive, this arrange-
ment of a large bow up over the head, which is a solid mass of
pearls, as is the crown which goes over the forehead and out to
the ends of the bow about a foot on either side of the head,
where all the hair is arranged to hang in a long braid down
alongside the shoulder. There are enough pearls, corals and
turquoise inlaid in the headdress to keep many a family going
a lifetime. This is not to mention the rest of the paraphernalia,
which consists of a solid breastplate of pearls, a very costly
prayer-box and a long necklace of large amber which reaches
down far below the waist.
The whole pattern was simply perfect for color photography,
as was also the day, full of brilliant sunshine, which however
made it rather difficult to handle the blacks and whites; for the
pearls and the other jewels were literally dazzling in radiance.
I found a very small corner which had just enough shade to cover
the Lacham's face, and I tried a few shots there in the hope
that I might get something besides the grim face seen in the
glaring sunlight. They do not have a courtyard at the Tsarongs',
as their house stands in the middle of the city and is built in the
typical Tibetan fashion of a large stableyard for an entrance in
front of the large three-story building which is their home. The
only place out of doors is a small protected enclosure on the
roof, where the flowers are so arranged as to give the illusion
of the out-of-doors just a Lhasa penthouse.
After I photographed to my heart's content we retired to
the sitting room, where we were served with heaps of Tibetan
food under the name of a small light lunch. It was enough for
"all the King's men." This, as I more than once indicated, is
[317]
Penthouse of the Gods
one of the oldest and most important families in Tibet, and of
the royal line, the Lacham being the eldest daughter of Raja
Tering, brother to the present Maharajah of Sikkim. Jigme is
her brother. Rakasha is the brother to the present Maha Rani
of Sikkim. There are many ancient houses in Lhasa, but this
seems to be one of the purest lines to be found} they can trace
theirs back in a more direct course than any other house, and at
the time of its inception it seems to have been very powerful.
Indeed, the Rakashas are the only ones who have the divine
privilege of erecting a chorten to entomb their dead instead of
cutting up the bodies and feeding them to the vultures in the
characteristic Tibetan fashion. As far as I have been able to
determine, no other family in Tibet is permitted this privilege.
The Tashi and the Dalai Lamas, and a very few other high
Lamas, may share in this right.
4
The evening was spent in our regular long philosophical dis-
cussion with my Geshe, providing me with a yet deeper insight
into the training of the monastery. He happened to be telling
me of the effect of the ceremonies in which I had taken part and
what the Lamas had been saying about me. He told me that the
T'ri Rimpoche had gone to his own monastery some four days*
journey east of Lhasa and that whenever he went into his medi-
tative chambers it was possible for him to know everything that
was happening in Tibet. Indeed, he went so far as to say that
the T'ri Rimpoche could even read my thoughts, could tell the
impression the various ceremonies had had on me, how well I
was progressing with my early morning meditations according
to the instructions which had been given me, and it was because
of this mysterious knowledge that he was able to determine
what step should be taken next toward my initiation.
What the Geshe said filled me with a strange hope. I had be-
Gathering Up the Last Threads
come aware of my discovery of those deep joys that I had never
before dreamt existed in this life, and I felt that all my effort
gained for me a reward altogether overwhelming. But I still
longed for the opportunity of receiving that mystical initiation.
It is only possible in this land, which is the only place left on
earth for such masters as yet living who can pilot one over its
precarious course. I feared to ask questions appertaining to this
desired goal j at is not the sort of thing one dare talk about here.
I had been told that the only thing for me to do was to con-
tinue my meditations and as soon as I should be ready for the
next step the teacher would appear. So there was nothing to do
but go on working and to rest unswerving in the faith that a
guide would always be with me.
I must confess that after the evening's talk I retired to my
meditative corner and reflected upon all that had happened to
me, and tried to determine if I had worked hard enough- I
knew that I had put all of myself into my effort, yet I re-
solved to work harder, bearing in mind that the chief prayer
taught by the great masters in this country was one which
exalted action, the basis being that nothing happens without a
cause. To convey a full comprehension of this statement would
require several volumes, which would permit a vast expansion
of the endless manifestations of this law. All that I can mention
here is that such a law exists, and that this law had been given
me as a guide.
The following day September 6 marked what was to be
the beginning of my last week in Lhasa. When I reflected that
originally I had expected to be back in India many months be-
fore this, I was truly overcome with amazement. Yet, in re-
viewing my accomplishment during these months, I experienced
a deep feeling of emptiness, for it seemed to me that I had done
too little. No end of problems faced me, answers to which were
to be found herej but with such limited time at my disposal I
Penthouse of the Gods
found it necessary to gather in factual material for the purpose
o future study. I wished I could have found it possible to box
up a few of the Lamas and store them away with the books un-
til such a time after my return to the world beyond that I could
use them. So much time had been spent in gaining their con-
fidence, in discovering those who were well trained and eager
to impart of their knowledge. After that, there was so little time
left for serious discussion. As it was, I probably drove not a
few of them crazy with my endless questions. They thought,
not without cause, that there was something wrong with me. In
the absence of any rational explanation, they attributed my state
to the driving spirit of a past life trying to assert itself in the
desperate effort to make a contact with my conscious self.
5
A mere triviality perhaps, but I cannot help noting a disap-
pointment I experienced at this time. The fact is, the Regent
presented me with a new pair of official boots, which had been
made to order for me. They were beautiful specimens of their
kind, but the wrong color. The exasperating aspect of it was that
there had been a whole month of endless discussion as to the
kind of boots I wanted, and then this! I had stipulated in a very
precise way that the boots were to complete a Shape costume I
wanted to show in America, while the boots I received, if all
right in their way, were worn by those of the rank just below
the Shapes. This meant another private talk with the Regent to
see if I could not have him prevail upon the bootmaker to do
the job all over again. The result of the interview was em-
barrassing, for he concluded by making me a present of the
boots! A gift from the Regent, of course, could not be refused.
But I realized that I should have to set my wits to work to get
the desired boots somehow.
From the look of things, I was now going to take up the rug
Gathering Up the Last Threads
business. Tharchin brought a number for my inspection, and the
temptation was great to acquire some. But for Tharchin I
should have hardly thought of it. Most of these rugs were made
at Gyantse. I could not get around the fact that the rugs pro-
curable at a reasonable figure were not of the best workmanship j
so I played with the idea of obtaining a representative set of
each class. Rugs in Tibet are sold in sets of two. The best, I
understood, came from Eastern Tibet, and Tsarong promised
to have some one bring a few specimens on the following day
that I might see the difference, and choose those which struck
my fancy.
On the next day Tsarong came in with a beautiful rug which
he presented me as a gift in harmony with the Tibetan custom
of friendship. I was elated, for it was the very thing I had been
trying in vain to obtain, and now to have it drop on me out of
the blue as a gift was almost too much for the emotions already
overstrained with the revelations of friendship so abundantly
shown in the house in which I was a guest. This last gesture
touched me too deeply to express my gratitude in words and I
was left with a profound desire to recompense my host in some
way commensurate with the spirit that moved him again and
again to do me kindness.
It was the Kashag that would decide the exact day of our
departure} it would also supply us with the Arrow letters which
would provide us with places of shelter and the necessary pack
animals. It had been my plan to leave on Monday, September
13, but I discovered that it was a very inauspicious day in the
Tibetan calendar for starting on a journeyj so I requested to
be allowed to leave on Wednesday, Tuesday of any week be-
ing considered a bad day when going on a long trek.
I spent part of the day in photographing as many street scenes
Penthouse of the Gods
as possible, and, having done the Tibetan bazaar up brown, I
found myself just outside the Tsug-lag-khang. I entered and
visited all the shrines by now so familiar to me. This temple
lost none of its fascination for me, even though there can be no
doubt about its being the blackest religious dungeon in exist-
ence. Half the time you are following a small butter lamp,
which is carried at your feet, while your head is bent almost to
the ground in the effort to follow the low passageways. It is a
queer feeling to be walking down into the blackness of hell to
the tune of an ascending torrent of weird chanting and musical
effects, which are trying to find their way to the heavens above
and beyond.
And as I ascended the stairs leading to the deities of the upper
floors I became aware, as on a previous occasion, of the sicken-
ing sweetness of the five thousand generations of mice, which
are still running over the same time-worn trail. So thick were
they that it was hard to avoid stepping on them, and if you hap-
pened to be lost in devotional abstraction you were shocked back
to reality by the sudden squealing chorus on their part or by
the darting of a rodent across your lap or up your leg. I was
sorry I could not take a picture of this viewj it is about the only
picture that I would lack. As soon as the rounds had been made
I began to take flashlight pictures of anything that held the
slightest interest. And, to finish up the day, in finding myself
out of doors again, I added no small number to my photo-
graphic collection of beggars.
I was more and more impressed with the need of packing
everything as quickly as possible, the chief reason being that
Tsarong was making preparations for his official entertainment
which would begin on the seventeenth and go on for a weekj
and he would need to utilize my quarters, indeed every bit of
available space.
It was on the day following my visit to the Tsug-lag-khang
Gathering Up the Last Threads
that Tharchin dashed into the room, all out of breath and ap-
parently worried. I could not imagine what had gone wrong, so
I sat calmly by and waited for him to recover his breath and
his speech. He announced that the Prime Minister had just sent
word that he and his associates were waiting for me at Norbhu
Linga. There was nothing to do but to send word back that I
was on my way.
The horses were quickly made ready, while I had three at-
tendants about me to dress me. I wondered what I should do
when I no longer had these three persons to dress me and a
couple of attendants next to me all day to see that I remained
intact. As a matter of fact, I knew it would be the greatest
relief to me not to have these people fussing about me; indeed,
nothing irritated me more than to have them trying to dress me.
At Norbhu Linga I was greeted by servants galore, who
promptly began to sputter like a flock of chickens, to bring in
chairs, tables, and what not, for my comfort. I must admit that
I had yet to sit on the front porch of the Dalai Lama's palace and
not feel a flow of romantic rhapsody, as I looked out across the
open expanse of flowers at the height of their glory. Shortly
before everything was hollyhocks, and now they were all gone,
and yellow dominated the scene, with a heavy growth of grass
to let one's emotions slide into the shaded thunderclouds among
the incomprehensible blue above. I could stand going there
every day for breakfast, tea, tiffin, and early dinner. There was
hardly anything I would not give to be imprisoned in any of
these exquisite chambers of sacred gold.
Soon I was served with tea. It is in eating that one wastes
one half of his lifetime in Tibet, I should have gladly foregone
my tea to get down to the job of photographing while the sun
was at its bestj but apparently tea was more important The
daily ceremony which is conducted before the throne of the
Dalai Lama began in the midst of my sipping; so presently I
[323 1
Penthouse of the Gods
went inside to meditate while arrangements were being made to
take photographs of the complete set of their medical thcmgkas
in the patio above. It is always interesting to watch them puff
and blow their horns, their cheeks bulging out and drawing in
like those of a croaking frog. The drummer marked time for
them, while the rest of the monks either chanted or beat cymbals
or rang bells. The ceremony was a short one.
The Prime Minister appeared and greeted me. Then, lead-
ing his servants to the secret chamber, which was under his per-
sonal lock and key, he had them bring out large carved blocks
of the thirteen Dalai Lamas, of which he was giving me the
privilege of having some prints made. Never before was any one
allowed to take a print of these sacred blocks out to India j the
privilege accorded me was of the rarest. Indeed, the very exist-
ence of these blocks was a mystery hitherto known but to a few.
In all, there were thirty-two blocks. Thirteen of them were
large and revealed the likenesses of the thirteen Dalai Lamas;
then there was a set of seven, and another set of twelve small
ones. At this time I had not yet been furnished with detailed
information about them, and I had to remain content to wait.
The printers were ready, and endless servants came out of the
darkness bearing the heavy forms on their bent shoulders. A
former bodyguard of the late Dalai Lama supervised the work j
he was a hefty chap standing six foot six, and he made me feel
like a pigmy. The place was buzzing with activity like a bee-
hive.
Presently the message came that the Prime Minister, who by
the way is the brother of the late Dalai Lama, had the thangkas
out for me and ready for the camera. There were dozens of
them, and I was kept busy right up to four o'clock, when it was
decided that we should stop and eat again. I had time to learn
that the Prime Minister himself was a camera enthusiast, and
had several very good cameras of his own.
Gathering Up the Last Threads
Another day. I was busy with packing things in my desk,
wholly oblivious o what any one else was doing, until all of a
sudden I got a whiff of yak skin. I knew exactly who had ar-
rived and what was being done. The skin was used to wrap the
boxes of books. I did not envy the workers who handled it as
their job, at which they would be busy for the day. I do not see
how they can stand the odor. They get used to it, I suppose.
My Geshe was working very hard trying to finish the last set of
books, so that they might be packed in the boxes by evening.
He had almost finished when the Regent sent word that he had
ordered some men to cross the river and return with a set of
Simr-Bum> which I had been wanting but which I had given up
hope of securing, owing to the fact that the river at this time
was next to impossible to cross. The Regent's command, how-
ever, is law, and life and death mean nothing j so there was hope
I might have my books yet. In all there would be another thirty
volumes, which meant that my Geshe would have his work cut
out for him until it was time for me to leave, I must admit I
was getting a bit nervous, and wondered if I should have to
delay my departure a day or two.
Life was not offering me much sleep these days and nights.
On this particular day I rolled out of bed around three-thirty,
after a single hour's sleep. I made for the "graveyard," for I
heard that three persons had just died and I went out to see
them cut up their bodies and feed them to the vultures. It all
sounds rather low in contrast to our own customs j nevertheless,
I felt it to be worth while to make a record of it as a part of my
chronicle. The graveyard rested at the edge of the Sera hill.
Every one is required to pay a small fee for the use of this spot,
as well as to donate to the monks whatever clothes the corpse
[325]
Penthouse of the Gods
happens to be wrapped in. I understand the monks sell the
clothes.
It was quite a trek getting there, the rainy season having
left effects which made travel difficult.
The process of disposing of the bodies to the vultures takes
place a few hundred feet up on the side of the great disintegrat-
ing sandstone hill} we were forced to dismount and lead our
ponies. We reached the rock on which the ceremony, if cere-
mony it can be called, was carried out. It was a high flat rock,
slightly on the incline, and at the top end was another large
boulder, which had been obviously carried there. Around it
many pieces of rope were securely fastened, and in a long row
were six deep well-formed holes, into which some of the ropes
led. These holes were filled with water from the heavy rains.
The body is tied down with the rope to prevent the vultures
from carrying it away in the process of stripping the skeleton
of its meat. The birds have to be beaten back from these long
strips of flesh until they have first disposed of the bones 5 these
are pulverized in the holes I have just mentioned, and the vul-
tures will not touch them if they have had a chance at the flesh
first. The greatest delicacy of all is the crushed skull, well
moistened with human brains. This is always kept until the end,
for once the birds have had a taste of it so at least I was told
they will not eat anything else. Quite apart from this, I never
visited a "graveyard" which showed fewer tokens of death than
this.
Only a single member of a family is disposed of on this site.
Should there be any small children, their material forms are
rubbed out of existence on another rock several hundred yards
removed, and the mother has a place of her own on the other
side of the valley. In all, there are four such disposal grounds
in the vicinity of Lhasa. The family may request any place they
wish. If they happen to be very poor, it is aU done according to
[326]
Gathering Up the Last Threads
the whim and way of the man who has been assigned the job.
The way of the poor is hard in Tibet as elsewhere.
Everything was confusion about the house, adding unaccount-
ably to my inner excitement. Tsarong's large house was nothing
but one stack after another of things which would be used for
his party. There was scarcely room left to walk. I now began to
understand what he meant when he said that it took a lot of
trouble to give a large party to which all the high officials of
Tibet were to be invited. In all he was going to have over 300
guests, 200 of whom would be the servants of the other 100.
The ground of the entrance would be lined with carpet so that
no one need put his feet on the ground on arrival. There would
be the most lavish decorations. His private temple surpassed
any other private temple I had seen, and I had seen a good
many. His images were superb, entirely covered with gold and
radiating with the finest jewels. The silks in evidence here were
also of the best. There are few persons who know their silks
better than Tsarong, and, indeed, what little I know about silks
I learned from him. As for Tsarong's sitting rooms, they make
as perfect a museum of Chinese antiquities as any I have ever
seen. He has objects of art which even the Museum of the For-
bidden City of Pekin might regard with envy. And in this re-
spect the entire house is of a piece. Yet, quite apart from this,
and in spite of his wealth and power, Tsarong dresses very
simply and there is no ostentation of any kind in the matter of
daily living. It is only when he gives a party of this kind that
you begin to realize the high place he holds in Tibet. I have
heard it said that he set the pace for Lhasa. Everything he did
was regarded with respect, and his ways regulated the ways
of others.
[327]
Penthouse of the Gods
8
In the afternoon a couple of Lamas from a monastery called
to have a long talk with me. And again I must note how truly
mysterious it is that they are able to keep track of one and to
know of one's every act I might almost say, thought. I sat with
them while they told me how I had been spending my early
mornings in prayer and what progress I had been making. More
than that: they told me the precise developments in my attitude
of mind, the contacts I had been able to make, and why I was
able to experience that which I did experience when participat-
ing in the various ceremonies at the great monasteries.
I was dumf ounded at what they told me, and perplexed as'
any one could possibly be. There was not the least doubt of it:
what they told me about myself was quite accurate, and I really
had the feelings which they ascribed to me.
Then they came out with the astonishing statement, that all
that now remained for me to do was to take the last step, to go
through with the ultimate initiation ceremony, which would
make it possible for me to become conscious of these inner proc-
esses in me, would enable me to contact my inner self at will,
and to the end of my days.
They said that word had come from the great monastery
east of Lhasa, that the T'ri Rimpoche had returned, and that
preparations were being made to receive me there for the last
ceremony and to inculcate in me some knowledge of the
ultimate native mystery.
It will never be possible for me to convey the fervor and
ecstasy of my feelings on receiving this momentous news. Nor
could I get over the wonder of their knowledge concerning me.
They revealed to me every thought I had since my arrival in
Lhasa, the precise nature of my reactions to the various cere-
monies, and the depths I had sounded in the course of them.
[328]
Gathering Up the Last Threads
I thought that this life was all my own, but they seemed to
have some mystical power that gave them an insight into the
understanding of others.
It was not a question of whether I would go or not. It was
a question of how quickly I could leave. There was no time to
be lost* I had come to Tibet for this, and here it had come to
me on the day before my departure. Prompt plans were made
that I might leave on the following morning. It was a four-days'
journey east of Lhasa, to the third largest monastery in all
Tibet, the sacred abode of the most divine soul of this mys-
terious land. That very night a message was sent to the mon-
astery by runners to tell them that I was leaving on the mor-
row. The actual distance was not very great, but there were
no roads to speak of, and the physical obstacles to overcome
were considerable. It was necessary to ford the large river, and
many of the trails had been washed away by the heavy floods.
Full of emotional fervor because the privilege of a lifetime
had been granted me, I was hoping we might make the journey
in three days. Little time had been wasted. Everything was now
about ready to leave for India. It was just a question of putting
things in their corner and of leaving the order so that every-
thing could be moved at a moment's notice.
Long before sunrise everything was helter-skelter in the ef-
fort to get the last-minute details taken care of before leaving
for the Ganden monastery. The rains were still with us, and
everything was discouraging, for the sky was black with very
low clouds j we were anticipating the worst kind of weather,
and as usual the transport arrived late. The only thing that in-
terested me was to get there myself.
9
It was scarcely more than half an hour before we arrived
at a point at which it was necessary to cross the river in a small
[329]
Penthouse of the Gods
yak-hide boat called kowas. On the sandy banks there were
three of them trussed up on end in order that they might be
drying out while not in use. The riding ponies had to be swum
over. At first we had planned to use donkeys for transport and
take them along with us in boats, but arrangements were finally
made to secure more ponies on the other sidej so our party
broke up into small groups and joined a couple of other parties
who had arrived shortly before. All the boats went over to-
gether. It provided something of a thrill to hear the echoing
voice of a coming boatman around the bend of the river and
then see a group of them winding their way down stream. It
is possible to travel for many miles in such boats down these
large streams. Considerable transporting is done, and often a
large quantity of timber is lashed together, and a party will
ride it to the other end. The current is by far too strong and
swift to allow going upstream; so it is a case of ride down and
walk back. I assume that all the boats accumulate at the other
end, and are then carried back. They are very light. Indeed,
one man can carry a boatj yet a single boat will hold many
men including their transport. Just before reaching the fax
bank we had the thrill of rolling over the dashing waves of a
small rapid.
Ponies were waiting for us, so it was not long before we were
off, to ride only about five miles, when we were to change
transports. While waiting for the servants to go to the fields
and bring in the ponies for the next day, I talked to a few of the
traders and sheepherders who were hanging around. There
was one chap who dragged heavy iron shackles around the
ankles. With no prison system to speak of, when any one com-
mits a crime he is simply put into fetters and allowed to roam
at large. This fellow had devised some sort of automatic device
for killing foxes and, as luck would have it, a man became his
victim instead of the stray foxj so he was arrested and punished
[330]
v'^
* ' * *' '/V^f-t,'*
"^EKs&to-^j* ' '- ^^'^^^ " ' ".>> :>< v"'-*' '^pP* ; ^v/' j i)*raw 'i3fiEf%^
.Gathering Up the Last Threads
in the manner described} he would wear these shackles until
the end of his days.
One of the men was carrying a large sling-shot, the sort of
weapon that David must have used to slay Goliath. This one
was woven out of yak hair. I simply had to look at it and see
how well it worked. It had been many years since I had heard
the hum of a rock projected by this device, but it was only a
matter of putting it into my hand to be tempted to make use of
it. So we all had a little fun, and they were truly astonished to
find out that the sahib could handle their weapon with the same
skill as themselves j indeed, could send a bit of rock a little
farther into space.
After our exercise we went in and had several cups of Tibetan
tea with their tsampa bread, and thus nourished the soul before
covering another several miles, stopping only to receive an-
other set of transports. I had to change horses no less than five
times that day. Our packs could not expect to catch up with us,
for as soon as we arrived at another station and had a few cups
of tea we were promptly off again.
I think I have already explained that travel in Tibet re-
quires a governmental pass, which is an order to the headman
of each village to furnish the holder with all the necessary
animals, for both riding and transport, as well as his supply
of essential food, and a place to spend the night. On arriv-
ing at a village you go to the house of the headman with
the letter stating your requirements, and everything receives
the most gracious attention. Indeed, the hospitality offered is
beyond anything you expect. Now without this letter it would
be impossible to secure anything. They do not even see you,
the very good reason being that if it is ever found out that they
have given any sort of aid to one not holding a passport, the
penalty would be death. If not, it might just as well be death,
for you are thrown out of the social scheme of things without
[331 ]
Penthouse of the Gods
ever a chance o finding your way back. There is an instance of
a very high family, whose head was above the fourth rank. He
was persuaded by an Indian scholar to help him, which he did,
and when it was discovered years later, his entire family lost the
prestige and the power of the rank, while the head of the
family, who did the helping, was imprisoned for life; only
through the fates of the Gods was he released at the time of
the 1904 Mission, which requested it. As far as being of any
value to himself, however, he might just as well have been left
in his dungeon of blackness, where he had been for years, for
his eyesight was sadly impaired and in his effort to keep alive
on the rations given him his body had wilted away to a mere
shadow. I heard this story from Sir Francis Younghusband
himself, who ordered the release. There is a book on Tibet
whose author goes to considerable extremes of denouncing the
Tibetans as an unmerciful race, with absolutely no considera-
tion for human life. He has come to this conclusion because of
the tragic results of his experience in virtually having to crawl
from Kashmir to Gyantse. If he had an Arrow letter and was
not trying to steal his way through the country his story would
have been wholly different Speaking for myself, I found the
Tibetans the most gracious people on earth, and never before
had I such friendship extended me by foreigners.
All day we rode up the Lhasa Valley on the opposite side
of Lhasa River. It was one of the loveliest outings that one
could wish at this time of the year. Everything was ready for
the harvest. There were endless fields of flowing wheat, which
formed one of the colors of Nature's beautiful patchwork quilt
of hues which she had laid across the valley. Perhaps the most
outstanding delight was that of riding along for miles through
air delicately scented with the fragrance of the brilliant yellow
mustard fields which cover a vast expanse. At times we were
travelling on the brink of the river, where a very narrow trail
[332]
Gathering Up the Last Threads
cut into the sheer, overhanging precipice looming immediately
above the water. Then there was always a passing panorama of
human interest in the Lamas, traders, sheepherders, women and
children on their way to Lhasa. There were many chortens
marking sacred spots. And in one of the narrow passages I
passed the first white yak which I had ever seen- I also met
with new types coming in from Kham, loaded to the ground
with guns as well as with their heavy skin clothing. The arms
varied from the old matchlock to the modern rifle. I also
noticed that one group carried the bow 5 it hailed from the
southeast corner of Tibet on the Bhutan frontier.
Due to our hurried pace, the transport was left far behind
last night, for they had not arrived at twelve o'clock, when I
decided to caU it a day and give the body a chance. Weighing
on my mind on awakening was whether or not they had come
in during the night, and much to my disappointment I found
that they had not yet arrived. About six o'clock, however, we
heard their bell coming down the road, so we gave the matter
no further thought and simply directed them up the hill to
Ganden.
Dressed in a Tibetan robe, and accompanied by my body-
guard, I headed toward the sacred monastery of Ganden, situ-
ated on top of the mountain, below which we spent the night
in an old house of the past potentates of Tibet. It was a three-
story structure of solid rock, and I was made very comfortable
in it and provided with a repast as usual three or four times
more than was necessary; I suppose they thought I needed all
that to sustain me until I reached the top.
The lift from the floor of the fertile valley was somewhere
between two and three thousand feet, which means that Ganden
is between 14,000 and 15,000 feet above sea-level. The stark
barrenness of the hills reminded me of similar hills in our own
West. It was a continuously ascending, zigzagging trail worn in
[333]
Penthouse of the Gods
loosely thrown limestone. At all times we had an excellent
command of the surrounding valley formed by the knife-like
tongues which ran out from the main ranges. The trek was not
long, for Ganden was at the very top} it was a steep, quick
climb, with soaring eagles for company.
Just before reaching the top our trail went through a narrow
cut in the rock ridge. At this point there was a Lama who ap-
parenty guarded the spot all the time and warned every
passer-by to be sure and remove all bells from his animals, for
the Most Precious One was at the monastery, and nothing
should disturb his meditation. This is done only for the T'ri
Rimpoche, and the Dalai Lama, when he is alive. I held a
great deal of anticipation of being able to come in contact with
this divine soul and realized that it was he who would act as
my "guide into Heaven."
Here, to my mind, was the ideal monastery, tucked away as
it was in a hidden corner in the bend of one of the higher ridges
which juts out into the valley. For could there be a more ideal
place for a monastery than among the gathering clouds of
heaven yet remain completely hidden from every one passing
up and down the valley? Below it the mountain drops straight
down for a couple thousand feet. Could one ask for better pro-
tection and isolation? In appearance it recalled to my mind any
New York array of small apartment houses, for it consisted
of many three-story buildings stacked up on top of each other}
but from the distance you lost the true perspective, as they
appeared merged in a single crowding structure dotted with
small windows, a structure which filled the uppermost tiers of
this amphitheatre of the Gods, where its inhabitants while away
their time preparing for the hereafter. And I vow that any
human being dwelling in a like place would be unable to think
of anything dsej the country hereabouts surely awakens all
the religious awe that any soul might possess.
[334]
.Gathering Up the Last Threads
10
We had to descend a few hundred feet in order to reach the
level of the trail leading to the mam temple, where they had
made arrangements for me to live during my visit. The clouds
hung very low} indeed, if we had jumped, our heads would
have plunged into them. It was out of question to take pictures.
Monks met me to conduct me to my monastic cell, where I
should be living the life of a Tibetan Lama, and learning to
contact the consciousness in the manner taught by them. I knew
I was being honored, for I was permitted to live in a sacred
chamber in the main temple building, where the great ceremony
would take place on the following morning at the break of day.
I need scarcely say that there was tea when I arrived and that
from the moment I occupied my cell a tiny acolyte came run-
ning in every five minutes to refill my cup. And, of course, there
was food. I got so filled up with tea and food that my reaction
was a desire to throw both in the face of the faithful attendant;
but what I actually did was to smile graciously and accept an-
other swallow. There is just as much privacy here as in a
hospital, with attendants who go in and out, and others who
remain to look you over. I was, of course, a source of intense
curiosity to the Lamas. And I was equally curious about them.
Beside the shrine in my quarters were the Kcwgyw and
Tengywr which had been read and studied by Tsong Khapa, the
founder of this monastery and the organizer of the Gelupa
sect. This is the oldest and most sacred of all the Gelupa mon-
asteries. Two of Tsong Khapa's disciples built Drepung, Sera
and Tashi Lunpo. There are two sets of small platforms in
front of the monastery. On the high one the Dalai Lama dis-
mounts from his palanquin when he comes to visit the mon-
astery; while the lower one he uses to make the three devo-
tionals to the monastery. The other set is used by the T'ri
C335]
Penthouse of the Gods
Rimpoche, the head Lama of this monastery, who is next in
rank to the Dalai Lama of Tibet
II
As later I sat in the dark cave of solitary confinement the
last thing I recalled was my drifting into sleep that first night
in the monastic cell, having previously reviewed all the events
of my Tibetan and pre-Tibetan experience which led up to this,
the ultimate mystical initiation and the instructions from the
divine head of this monastery which conferred the power and
the authority to pass on something of my experience to others,
after they had prepared themselves sufficiently to take the
steps as they were revealed to me.
I already sent out a message from my cave that I should
be finishing my reflections late that evening, and word had come
that the T'ri Rimpoche would be ready to receive me in his
private meditative chamber at the break of dawn. Subconscious
forces were flowing too rapidly for me even to think of sleep j
so after I had finished the review of my entire life I spent the
rest of the night meditating in the manner I had been in-
structed, thus preparing myself for that which was going to be
passed on to the following morning.
It was like being reborn to emerge back into the world
after an absence of three days and four nights spent in the cave}
not a single moment had I lain down to sleep, having spent the
entire time in contact with the inner force. Not a word was
spoken to me by the monks who had been sent to conduct me
to my teacher. No one else was allowed to enter his meditative
chamber but myself. The vibrations of the room were very
peculiar. A strange mood possessed me as I stepped into this
private shrine, and took my place beside him. Not a word was
exchanged between us, but only an understanding twinkle of
the eye, which told both of us how we felt.
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Gathering Up the Last Threads
The sun had not yet come up, and the light within was very
dimj there was but the dull flicker of a few small butter lamps
before his altar. I arranged myself in the customary meditative
posture, and the two of us remained in dead silence to greet the
new day, symbolic of a new world for me. Thus we remained
for three hours, like two frozen images, but the light and the
speech within were more illumining, more eloquent, more ac-
tive, than anything I had ever experienced before.
Our silence was broken at last by the repetition of a few
sacred syllables. A short conversation followed, during which
he explained the meaning of everything that had taken place.
He pointed out to me that now I had gained contact with an
old soul that was within me; this was, he said, the reason for
my pilgrimage, that I had by no means come as a disciple
to acquire learning, that I had, indeed, previously possessed
this knowledge, and that it had been only a question of making
the contact. Now, having brought consciousness into it, he said,
it would be possible for me to continue my development
throughout life.
For my part, I said in response that I would be willing to
remain here for the rest of my days, to which he said that this
was not the way for me. It was essential first to permit the past
existence to fulfill itself} it was this that had caused me to be
born in the Western world, that there was some predestined
purpose in it, that it was necessary that I fulfill it j having done
that, I should be free from all the shackles of the past. Then,
again, the soul had chosen this body, which is only an instru-
ment of tihe soul. It was important that I should perfect this
instrument by a process of maturation. Therefore, it was essen-
tial that I should live the life into which I was born, but con-
tinue unceasingly this process leading to the fullest maturation.
Although my soul was old, my body was still very young, but
notwithstanding the age of my soul it was required of me that
[337]
Penthouse of the Gods
I continue in the life given me and add new experience to it,
that now having made the contact with my inner self I should
have the fortitude to withstand all the sorrows and adversities
of life and be able to transmute them into blessings.
The Lamaist teaching is that every person should spend a
certain number of years of his early childhood in gaining con-
tact with himself, which should provide him with a philosoph-
ical outlook on life and enable him the better to face it. This is
the opposite of our Western method of education. We feel that
we can fit the individual into the prevalent scheme of things by
first providing him with the facts and with an understanding
of all the externals of life. This is our idea of the equipment he
needs in the facing of life. It is not until he has been battered
back and forth along the path for forty or fifty years that he
is able to gain, if he gains it at all, the first inkling of a philo-
sophical understanding. At this juncture his one attitude of
mind is: "If only I had known about life when I was a chiJd
just starting out in life! How much easier it would have been
for me to pass through all of these experiences! How much
more they would have meant to me, how much more I should
have been able to gain and do!" The Lamaist teachers contend
that the individual should be provided with the philosophy
first, after which he may acquire the necessary facts and pass on
through the endless experiences of this life with some means at
his disposal, provided by the philosophy, to enable him steadily
to grow and evolve, which is the only purpose of his existence.
Secure in my knowledge that I had a way of communing
with this mind from any corner of this earth, it had now be-
come possible for me to return to the world of affairs. And my
own land, America, suddenly beckoned to me, and my return
to it, I was aware, would be fraught with meanings which I
had not even suspected when I left it for my wanderings in
India and, above all, Tibet
[338]
INDEX
INDEX
Ache Lhanmo, 289-291, 299
Amo River, 45
Amsuvarman, King, 230
Anderson, John, 35
Aryadeva, 231
Asculi, Father Joseph E., 125
Asoka, 64, 65
Atisha, 146, 232
Avolokita, 232
Bell, Sir Charles, 67
Bhutan, 50, S*> 333
Birmiok, 3 1
Bogle, G., 50
Brikuti, Princess, 230
Buddha Gaya, 78
Buddhism, 230-233
Bya-Kri-Gzigs, 231
Cable, Captain Gordon, 94, 98,
99, 105, xo6, xxo
Catholicism, xoo, xoi
Clmk-po-ri, 148, 2x4, 249, 269,
316
Chaksam Cho-ri Monastery, 142
Chang-tang, 202, 250
Chugu, 36, 37
Chapman, Spencer, 104
Charlemagne, 232
Chcn-rc-2i, 172, 188, 204, 239,
260, 272, 3x6
Choktcy Jongfcn, 78, 80, 83, 91-
93> 95, 96
Chortens, 15, 150, 172-174, 201,
2X0, 21 X, 214,237, 240,255,
Chumbi Tang, 39, 41, 44, 40, 5>
127
Chumolhari, 49, 50, 52, 104
Chu-shu, 133, 140, 142, 143, 156,
197
Cutting, C. Suydam, 59, 125, 126
Dag-po, 223
Dalai Lamas, 32, 59, 66-68, 104,
1x8, 136, 146, 150, 154, 155,
166, X7I-I74, 185-189, 207,
227, 229, 232, 250, 253, 254,
264, 265, 267, 269, 270, 272,
274> 275> 289, 318, 323, 334,
336
David-Neel, Madame, 125
Dergc, 157,227,233
Desideri, Father, S.J., 125
Dochen Lake, 52, 53
Dorje-Jig-je, 239, 260, 271
Dorjc P'agmo, 135, 136
Donnlle, Count, 125
Drepung Monastery, 62, 147, 243,
255-264, 289, 335
Dudley, Mr- and Mrs. C. E., 31
Dugkar, 189
Food (Tibetan), 81-83
Fox, Mr., 205, 251
Freyer, Father, S.J., 125
Gandcn Monastcxy, 1-27, 257,
329> 333-338
Gangttdt 3 1,33,34, 105
Gantsa, 49
Gelupa sect, 1-27, 47> 55 58,
xoo, 146, 204, 232, 240, 244,
245> 256, 335
Geshe Rabsen-age Gyal Ts'ab-je,
257
Index
Geshe Rimpoche, 46, 48
Ghenghiz Khan, 232
Gould, J. B,, 32, 105
Grueber, Father, SJ., 125
Gsan Sngags, 245
Guru Rimpoche, 42, 43, 93, 95,
192, 204, 230, 243, 280
Gusri Khan, 232
Gyantse, 32, 33, 575 main entry,
59-124; 127, 130, 140, I49>
213,246,321,332
Gyantse Monastery, 61-73, 173
Hemis Indians, 102
Hemis Monastery, 102
Hinduism, 100102
Jelup Pass, 146
Jigme, 72, 73, 75, 77, 80, 98,
106-108, in, 119, 149
Jo-Khmg y 177, 178
Kadampa sect (see Gelupa sect)
Kala, 52, 53
Kalachacra, 257
Kalimpong, 32, 35, i 1 1, 1 14, 1 17,
"9> 153*223,267,289,292,
314
Kalinga, 257
Kalon Lama Shape, 168-171
Kangmar, 53, 55, 57
Kangyur, 43, 65, 68, 164, 173,
174, 182, 204, 228, 229, 251,
262, 282, 292-294, 310, 335
Kargyupa Monastery, 41-44
Kargyupa sect, 32, 93, 100, 232,
240, 244-246, 293
Karo Pass, 130
Karponang, 36, 37
Kawoguchi, 125
Kham, 160, 251, 333
Khambu La, 122, 133, 137
Khubla Khan, Emperor of China,
232
Krishna, A. (AK), 125
Kyu-chu, 142, 197, 263, 332
Lan Darma, 231
Lhare,39,53,55,57, 131, 209
Lhasa, 75, 79, 83, 84, 86, 91, 92,
97-99, 104, 106, ix 1-114,
117, Il8, 120-122, 124-127,
129, 131, 133, 1435 main cn-
try, 145-329
Lmgmo Plain, 45, 49, 52
Macdonald, David, 32, 67
Macdonald, General Sir Ronald,
36
Maharajah of Nepal, 228
Maha Rani of Sikkim, 3 1 8
Manning, Thomas, 50, 125
Mantras, 7, 9, 10, 12, 58, 77, 2QI,
208, 211, 212, 238, 239, 245,
275,310
Marpa, 43, 56, 293
Mary Tsarong, 71-73, 75, 106,
108, in, 119, 120
McGovern, William, 125
Mila, 43
Milarepa, 224
Monasteries:
Chaksam Cho-ri, 142
Drepung, 62, 147, 243, 255-
264, 289, 335
Ganden, 1-27, 257, 329-338
GyantsS, 61-73, 173
Hemic, 102
Kargyupa, 41-44
Nanying, 60, 61
Nechung, 264-266
Re-Tmg, 161, 166
Sam-ding, 135, 136
Samye, 230, 231
[342]
Index
Sera, 257, 277-281, 338
Sri-Dhanya-Kataka, 257
Tashi Lunpo, 335
Tung Kara, 45-48
Mondrol, 159, 198
Morgan, Doctor, 291
Nagarjuna, 231
Nag-wan Lo-zang, Fifth Grand
Lama, 232
Nain Sing, 125
Nangchunnga Shape, 167
Nanying Monastery, 60, 61
Nargatse, 135
Naropa, 43
Narthang, 227
Nathu Pass, 38, 39, 4S> 54
Nechung Monastery, 264-266
Nojm, Mt., 130, 137
Norbhu Dhondup Dzasa, Rai Bo-
hadur, 97, 99, 105, 106, 108,
XII, 112, 120, 136, 300
Norbhu Linga, 323, 324
Norphcl, 39, 130, 131, 137, 145,
209
Nyang River, 58, 59
Nyingmapas, 55, 58, 100, 231,
Odling, Mr. and Mrs. A. N., 32
Odonc, Friar, 125
Padce, 133, 137
Padmn, Sambhava, 32, 42, 43, 93,
ioo, 223, 230, 238
Pal-bans, 231
Peking, 59
Perry, Frank, 33
Perry, Mrs., 153
Phari, 49, 50
Phowa, 56
Pondrong Shapfi, 176
Potala, 148, 156, 168, 170, 172,
174, 186, 232, 251, 253, 255,
267-276, 289
Prayer-flags, 40
Prime Minister, 165, 166, 297,
307 38> 3^3> 324
Pu-ton, 293
Rakashas, 316-318
Ralpachan, King, 231
Rammoche (the), 191, 202, 235,
236, 238, 240, 260, 271, 312
Rcchung-po, 223
Red Idol Gorge, 54, 58, 59
Regent, King (of Tibet), 112,
120, 121, 136, 161-166, 169,
189, I93-I95 233, 295-303,
3<>7> 308, 320, 325
Renock Kazi, 3 1
Re-ting Monastery, 161, 166
Richardson, H. E., 79, 105, 117,
205, 206, 214, 215
Ring Gang, 250, 251, 291, 292
Sakya sect, 232
Sam-ding Monastery, 135, 136
Samye Monastery, 230, 231
Santa-rakshita, 230, 231
Sarat Chandra Das, 125
Sera Monastery, 257, 277-281,
338
Shigatse, 92, 105, III, 136
Siddique, 121, 122
Sikkim, 31, 32, 35-37
Sikkim, Maharajah of , 3 1, 72, 3 1 8
Smith, Elliott, 102
Sri-Dhanya-Kataka Monastery,
257
Srong-tsan-Gampo, King, 65, 177,
230, 231, 238
Sutras, 245
T'ait-sung, Emperor of China, 230
[343]
Index
Tamalung, 137, 138
T'angtong-the-King, 142
Tantras (tantnks), 30-33, 35, 42,
43 93> J 4*> i57> 2o8 2 3 8 ~
240, 244, 257, 260, 287, 292
Tarpa, 43
Tashi Lama, 32, 136, 318
Tashi Lunpo Monastery, 335
Ttngyur, 43, 65, 84, 157, 164,
173, 182, 204, 228, 229, 251,
254, 259, 262, 282, 292-294,
310, 335
Tering, Raja, 72, 73, 108, no,
in, 318
Tethong Shape, 176, 177, 216
Thartgkas, 6, 25, 42, 72, 73, 78,
95, 96, 100, 102, 143, 162,
165, 170, 173, 216, 217, 221,
245, 261, 272, 324
Tharchin, 32, 36, 43, 49, 51, 53,
74, 78, 80, 91, 92, 99, 104,
112, 130, 131, 149, 161, 171,
175, 180, 181, 193, 209, 221-
*23> 235, 310, 321, 323
Thon-mi Sam-bhota, 230
Thrimon Shape, 243, 247, 248
Thri-Srong-Detsan, 230, 231
Tilopa, 43
Tista Valley, 34
Tour, Father Francesco de, 125
T'ri Rimpoche, I, 4, 6, 12, 14,
20-23, 101, 165, 207, 208,
210,211,318,328,334-336
Tsangpo-chu, 139, 141-143, 197
Tsarong, Lacham, in, 120, 152-
*55> *59> J 6o, 180, 195, 196,
209, 254, 316-318
Tsarong, Mary (See Mary Tsa-
rong)
Tsarong ShapS, 146, 147, 149,
193, 215, 228, 229, 233-235,
243, 252, 254, 276, 282, 283,
285, 286, 293,301,311, 321,
327
Tsong-Khapa, 19, 204, 223, 232,
335
Tsug-lag-khang, 177, 191, 197,
221,238,299,312,322
Tung Kara Monastery, 45-48
Turner, Captain S., 50
Vairocana, 231
Vajra-Bhairava (See Dorge Jig-jc)
Varney, Mr., 59, 126
Vasunbandhu, 231
Waddell, L. Austine, 60, 67, 118
Wangdi, Rai Sahib, 96-98
Wench'eng, Princess, 230
"Wheel of Life," 17-20, 22, 25,
48
Yam-dok-tso, 135-137, 139
Yarsi, 136
Yatung, 44, 45, 97, 99
Yoga, 31, 33, 78, 103, 104
Younghusband Expedition, 36, 60,
"8, 332
Younghusband, Sir Francis, 332
"Zug-gi-Nyma Namthar," 303-
35
[344]
