THE CLOISTER OF LIVING DEATH

Evening Star, Issue 22576, 18 February 1937, Page 1

THE CLOISTER OF LIVING DEATH

AN EPISODE IN TIBET The Holy Cloister dog, gaunt and hungry, roved endlessly about the small courtyard surrounding the cave dwelling (writes Sven Hedih, in ‘ Adventures in Tibet’). He knew that there was meat behind those stone walls, but if he is still waiting for it he is a singularly patient do. The cave had neither windows nor doors; only a small tunnel running under the wall near- the ground connected it with the outer world. A natural spring bowed into its interior, providing water to' the man inured within. For inside the cave dwelt a lonely, • self-imprisoned lama. No sin was ha atoning, like a prisoner in. a dungeon, but voluntarily ne had bidden eternal farewell to the world of man to enter this living tomb of darkness. I turned to one of the men who had accompanied me into the cloister valley. What is his name?”' I asked. ' “He is nameless. We only ' know him as Lama Rinpoehe, the holy monk.” “Whence did he come?” f ' “ He was born in Ngor, in Naksang.”“Has he relatives?” “We don’t know. His next of kin cannot know he is here.”

“ How long has he been imprisoned ?’t “ Three years.” “ How long will he remain ” “ Until he dies.” “ You mean he will never see day* light again?” .. “ No. He made a holy vow to ’,»,are the cave only as a corpse.” “ How old is he?” “We don’t know. He looked about 40 when he came.” • “ But what would he do if he were to fall ill?” “ He would die or perhaps become well again in the course of time.” “ And you never hear how he is getliner on?” “Every day they shove him a bowl of ‘ tsamba ’ and perhaps some tea and butter through the tunnel. If he were not to touch the food for six days wa would suppose liim to be dead, and we would break open the entrance to the cave.” “ Has this ever occurred.?” “ Yes. Three years ago a lama who had lived in a crypt for 12 years died, and 15 years ago there was one who went in at the age of 20 and remained there for 40 years.” ‘ ' “ Does the monk who takes him his food never speak to him?” ■ “Oh, no! . Lama. Rinpocho would bring upon himself eternal damnation if he were to exchange one word with any living man, and the three ye#* 1,0 spent' entoiifeed! could hot to his credit.” " ? “We are. only a few steps- away. Can he hear what we are saying?” “No. The walls are too thick.” ‘ When this strange man had come t# Linga in the cloister valley of the Tibetan Sangpo three years before he had vowed before the assembled monks to enter into.the darkness of the cave for ever. In a body they conducted him to his voluntary grave slowly, step by step, as if desiring to prolong his last few moments in the sun, the solemn procession marched across the rugged hills to the chosen spot. The entrance to the cavern stood open! A few priests went in after him, spread a rag carpet on the ground, placed upon it several holy idols, murmured words of prayer, and departed. Good-bye to light and colour, goodbye to the trees and hills! Heavy blocks of stone were Tolled forward and piled up with the aid of levers. Soon every crevice, every little hole was filled in. and the sound of human voices died away. , For the monks who now return silently to their cloister to resume their usual occupations this man is already dead. Only once a day they provide him with liis scanty nourishment, and for the rest it is as if . he no longer existed. One shudders at the thought of such seemly unaccountable and unnecessary, but nevertheless exalted, behaviour. Who among us would cara to endure even a single hour in a dark, musty cave ? But Lama Binpoche remains there willingly-—nay, eagerly—until the dav he dies. Endless night—for how should he know when the sun bursts over the horizon in all its splendour, bathing the valley fn a shower of gold. Nor can he count the days. Only when summer comes and_ the warmth penetrates through to him at last ho knows that another year has passed. Day in. day out, year in, year, out, he sits'in his ghastly tomb, rosary in his hand, telling his “beads, reciting his prayers. And with the passing of time he withdraws more and more from his earthly memories. Gradually he forgets the life outside his prison, becomes oblivious to all but his desire for. death and union with tho infinite. His sojourn in the cave becomes_ for him merely a single episode, dazzling in its rapidity, like a second compared with eternal blessedness. But death seems in no hurry. * . .