The Collected Works of Chogyam Trungpa: Volume One (31 page)

After this the Chinese became much more aggressive in their attitude: The body of Rashü Behu was brought back and displayed in the hall and a week later all the Tibetans who attended the meeting were arrested.

The Chinese now called meetings in the twenty-five districts under Jyekundo to impress upon the people that they must change to the Communist way of life. They were told that if they did not comply with these orders the lives of their representatives who had attended the meeting would be forfeit. This was more than the people were able to stand; they protested that their representatives could not answer for each one of them. When the Chinese demanded that everyone hand over his arms, the Tibetans rose in open revolt and armed resistance was organized in all the districts, each of which had its own center of Chinese administration.

The small Communist office in Namgyal Tse just outside the monastery was the first to be destroyed and similar attacks were made throughout the twenty-five districts of the province. They were successful in all the smaller centers. The Resistance fighters eventually reached Jyekundo and occupied the large monastery overlooking the town, which was still in Chinese hands, thus cutting off all communications with it. They had also tried to cut the Chinese road between Jyekundo and China but at each attempt it was immediately repaired by the Chinese. Many of the towns on this road were taken by the Tibetans and very severe fighting took place in Trindu, where the Communists in order to protect themselves had mined the roads. But the Resistance troops drove cattle in front of them to explode the mines and over a thousand Chinese in the town were killed. These successes continued for about one and a half months. The Communists, however, then received reinforcements and their overwhelming numbers forced the Resistance party back.

Though the Chinese in Nangchen expected their compatriots to arrive soon, they were in a state of siege and had run out of food and water. In their desperation they resorted to strategy. They sent two Chinese who knew Tibetan out of the town disguised as lamas who, as they gave people to understand, had been forced to leave their hermitage. These men approached the Resistance troops and pretended that they were still under a strict vow of silence; to avoid having to talk they went on fingering their rosaries, their lips appearing to be repeating mantras. They both looked so genuine that the Resistance men believed they could be relied upon. The junior of the two indicated in dumb show that Chinese reinforcements were less than a mile away. At this the besiegers left their trenches in order to combat the oncoming Communists. The two lamas suddenly disappeared, and the Chinese in the town were able to make a successful sortie for food and water; when the Resistance troops returned to their trenches, having seen nothing of the Communists, they realized that they had been tricked. Fresh Communist troops arrived five days later and routed the besiegers.

The situation was now becoming very serious for the Tibetans; nearly all those living in monasteries or towns, particularly the able-bodied, were made prisoners. The Communists now in command were completely ruthless; the whole order of behavior was changed. Those who had been established in the administration before the invasion and had had friendly relations with the Tibetans, now had no control.

The Communist army was arriving in thousands and using automatic weapons hitherto unknown in Tibet. From their headquarters in Jyekundo and Nangchen they were sending their troops in all directions capturing the inhabitants and destroying the monasteries and the homes of the peasants. Some of the Resistance took shelter in Namgyal Tse Monastery. It was attacked by Communist troops from Nangchen and the fight went on for nearly two days, leaving most of the Tibetans dead in the monastery, as well as several hundred Communist soldiers. The whole place was looted, and the buildings destroyed. Dorlha, who had formerly been senior in the Jyekundo administration, was in command of the insurgent party; he fought with extreme bravery and then managed to escape. A few monks were able to get away and some of them discarded their robes and joined the Resistance, others were killed and the majority captured. Garwang Rinpoche, the abbot of Namgyal Tse, had disappeared after attending the meeting at Jyekundo.

By now there was not a single monastery left to carry out its religious functions, between Dütsi Tel and China. All the districts were full of the wounded and the dying. Chinese troops were everywhere, while the people who had escaped were now starving. Women and children left in the villages were in no better plight. Many mishaps befell those who tried to escape; there were diseases and accidents, small children fell from their horses, and everywhere there was shortage of food.

As for Dütsi Tel it did not escape the common fate. It was attacked from the north: Chinese troops broke into the library and threw out all the valuable books, tearing off their covers; the good Tibetan paper was either just strewn around or else was given as fodder to their horses. Those treasures of the shrines which were made of precious metals, such as images and lamps, were broken up and the metal was sent off to China. The precious painted scrolls were taken down and used as trays on which to serve the soldiers’ meals of meat and rice. Everything of value in the monastery was removed; they even broke into the tomb of the tenth Trungpa Tulku and left the embalmed body exposed.

Those monks who were able to escape had no other alternative but to abandon their monastery without attempting resistance. The elderly lama who directed meditation at the retreat center was, however, taken prisoner with some ten other monks. They were confined in the gönkhang, the temple of the tutelary deities. This was the oldest part of Dütsi Tel and dated from the sixteenth century, since when it had always been used for special spiritual activities. It was half chapel, half dwelling house. The elderly lama told his fellow prisoners, “Since this building has been set aside for meditation, it should still be so used, and this experience should make us realize its true purpose. We must accept that what has happened is all part of our training in life. Indeed, this is our opportunity to understand the nature of the world and to attain a deeper level. Though we are shut up here as prisoners, our devotions should be the same as if we were freely gathered together in the assembly hall.” He went on in this way, and gradually, as this deeper spiritual teaching was put before them, his companions recovered their calm.

The prisoners were scantily fed on a small daily portion of roasted barley (tsampa) and given hot water to drink. The younger monks who had been captured were sent out to remote valleys under an armed Chinese guard who also wore Tibetan clothes; they had to search for Tibetans in hiding and tell them that they must return to their villages. Everyone was questioned about me, but the monks themselves did not know where I might be found.

The building itself was left intact, being used together with the surrounding houses as an army base. From there the Chinese attacked all the neighboring monasteries and villages, bringing their prisoners back to Dütsi Tel. The fort which had been there in the time of Adro Shelubum and had become part of the monastery, was now used once more as a watchtower.

The Chinese army stayed at Dütsi Tel for about a month. They had intended to make it a permanent center, but on receiving orders from army headquarters they evacuated the place, carrying away everything which might be of value to themselves; the prisoners they took with them. The cattle in the district had all been rounded up and sent to Jyekundo Airport which was in a flat valley, a few miles from the town. The journey was a cruel one for the prisoners, as their captors were ordered not to delay, so they traveled night and day, with the Tibetans on foot and the Chinese on horseback. When they reached Jyekundo, the women were sent to the airport to look after the cattle; their children were taken from them and placed in communal nurseries under strangers. All able-bodied men and a few women were put on forced labor for road making and those who were too old to work were sent to concentration camps, together with those senior people who had not been shot.

Before the armies left the district, the Communists had entered the houses of the better-class Tibetans and ransacked them; they had taken the clothes of the masters and made the servants wear them, and the masters had been forced to put on the servants’ clothes.

The country was full of informers: The newly arrived Communist army made use of everyone who could help them, such as Chinese officials previously established in the district and Tibetan youths who had been recruited into their army when they first invaded Tibet; a number of these boys deserted to the Resistance, but those who remained with the Communists became useful as guides.

My secretary gave me news about what had happened in the wild and sparsely inhabited country northwest of Jyekundo. The whole area, known as Changthang, is a vast plateau and exceedingly cold. Knowing that the Communists were advancing from the northeast, the people of these high regions escaped to the northwest and lived in large camps. The Chinese now sent troops to attack them, having sighted their camps from their airplanes.

When the inhabitants left their villages, they had taken most of their cattle and personal possessions with them and this had made their camps very conspicuous targets for the Communist planes. Near the Lake of Heaven (Tengri Nor) there was a terrible fight; the refugees had camped beside this long lake which has a rocky mountain on one side; women and children were put behind these rocks for greater safety. The Communists attacked from three sides and the fighting went on for two days at the odds of 150 Tibetans against a thousand Communist troops. Though the situation was desperate the Tibetan men fought with such bravery that, despite many casualties, the women and children were saved.

All these things had happened while I was at Yak, but no one had been able to communicate with me at the time.

The bursar also told me that my mother and my two sisters had gone to visit my young brother, the abbot of Kyere, before the serious outbreak of hostilities and had stayed on there when conditions became dangerous. My mother sent me a message saying that she was relieved to think that I was in a safer place; I must not worry about her; if I had to leave the country she would be content for she thought only of my safety.

The refugees from the area around Surmang had been alloted camping sites and grazing for their cattle by the people living near Kyere; they still thought they would be able to return to their homes and our monks also expected to go back to Dütsi Tel; all thought that the Communists’ threat to return would not be carried out. My bursar said he had done his best to encourage this belief. He had gone to Dütsi Tel himself with a few monks and found all the buildings intact, so he had arranged with some poor herdsmen still living in the neighborhood to take charge of them. At the monastery he had seen the desecrated tomb of the tenth Trungpa Tulku with the body exposed and on his return to Kyere had sent a party of monks to cremate it.

As soon as he got back to Kyere he had called a meeting of our monks; all agreed that they should return to their monastery and had written the letter which Bursar Tsethar had brought with him. It said they hoped to resettle at Dütsi Tel and begged me to return to them; they asked me to think over the matter carefully, for if, during the life of the eleventh Trungpa Tulku, both monasteries ceased to function it would be a disaster. I asked the bursar how he had been able to travel the country in its present disturbed state; he replied that he had been aware of the danger and moved cautiously. I then asked him if other communities intended to return to their monasteries; to this he answered that, as far as he knew, no one else had such an intention. I wanted to know what were the individual opinions of my monks in regard to myself and he said that they were quite satisfied with the action I had taken to avoid danger; in fact, I had relieved them of the great responsibility of taking care of me.

It was difficult to reply to the letter, though it was obvious that decisions could not be long delayed; I used prasena again, which indicated that I should not go to Kyere and that I should even leave my present retreat fairly soon.

My answer to the letter was as follows: “We should not think only of the survival of our monastery, nor of my own reputation. You must see that the whole country has been devastated. If we try to reestablish Dütsi Tel the Communists will inevitably return and the suffering will only be repeated; probably we shall all lose our lives. Where I am now, we are in the province of Central Tibet; unless a change for the worse takes place here, we are in a better position than at Surmang. My monks must consider the possibility of remaining where they are or of coming to this area; I think nothing would be more dangerous than to return to Surmang.”

I read my letter to the bursar and added, “I agreed earlier to return to Surmang, but this was in the hopes of saving our monastery. Now, if I join you, we will certainly be a target for attack from the Communists and their persecution of our people will begin all over again. They will believe that I encouraged the Resistance; this will only lead to further bloodshed. I think there is little hope of reestablishing our monastery, but I will not attempt to escape myself before I have received further information from our monks at Kyere.”

The bursar had little to say in reply; incurably sanguine, he clung to the belief that everything would end well. He was obsessed with the calamity which had overtaken Surmang and failed to recognize the fact that the disaster was one involving the whole country. Though my companions were in favor of my leaving the district immediately, we decided that I should stay on where I was until an answer came back from Kyere. As for Tsethar, he went to Drölma Lhakhang with the monk in charge of the horses to make arrangements about our animals which were being cared for in the neighborhood; he now wanted to exchange them for money and portable articles.

The weather was now improving and the valley where we were hiding was bursting into spring. Akong Tulku and I, sometimes accompanied by Jigme Rinpoche and his brother, used to take long walks along tracks that animals had made through the willow and juniper scrub. There was so much to see; birds, including the white goose, and many animals such as musk deer, brown bears, Tibetan pandas, and foxes were to be seen. To hear a fox barking is considered to be a bad omen in Tibet; one full-moon night after the New Year we heard one followed by the cries of jackals; the sound echoed from rock to rock and was frightening in the silence and loneliness of the valley.