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The Man
Who Was Saved by a Dragon
Many Bhutanese traders and pilgrims have, since time immemorial, braved the
perilous journey across the mountains every year into Tibet. Traders would
load their mules and yaks with rice, chillies, dey shag, the famous
Bhutanese handmade paper, and various other goods for barter and journey
across the mountains for many days until they reached the Tibetan
settlements of their choice. They went in groups of at least three to four
men. They carried enough rations and other stocks and once they reached the
Tibetan settlements, it was with confidence that they would go directly to
their nyda to rest and to have their animals fed. With the same
assurance they could trade their goods in the markets and proudly load their
mules and return home.
But the pilgrims were another sort of
travellers. Many of them had only a vague knowledge of Tibet and even less
about the perils of the long journey there. Many pilgrims are known to have
perished during the journeys and yet faith and devotion drew them to the
chae gi densa, the centers of religion. Armed with his kesang
khurshing, two strong V-shaped cane sticks that act like a light basket
for holding provisions, and his T-shaped stick, which served as both a
walking stick and a stool to rest his load on, a pilgrim from Tang valley in
the Bumthang district headed for the 5,316 metre (17,442 feet) high Monla
Karchung Pass one spring day many years ago.
This pilgrim was a disgruntled farmer who
felt that he had to seek a tsawa lama, a root teacher, and follow the
path of dharma. When he announced his intention, his family members were
shocked but none would try to stand in the way of someone who had decided to
seek religion. His brothers ungrudgingly and quietly assumed the tasks that
he had abandoned to prepare for the long journey to Tibet.
So one spring morning the family tearfully
bade farewell to this departing member of their family. They stood near the
bridge and watched him as he confidently walked on. The women members waved
their scarves and sang, ‘AIo’, the melancholic farewell melody, while
the men shouted, ‘Aoo Aoo’. After a while they could only see the
heavy kesang khurshing, in which he had packed all he needed. All of
them wished that he had some travelling companion. But this potential
pilgrim had always retorted quoting the famous Tibetan saying, ‘Where can
there be salvation without suffering?’
As the days passed he came closer to the
famous Monla Karchung. The majestic white giant stood before his eyes and it
seemed to beckon him towards it. This young and healthy farmer, who was used
to hard work and carrying heavy loads, did not suffer having to climb the
steadily ascending mountain path as the altitude increased rapidly. The
white snow glistened in the bright sun and the glare hurt his eyes. Every
thing looked white and icicles hung from the rocks. The dwarf azalea shrubs,
which had been quite abundant lower down, now disappeared and everywhere he
looked there was snow that sparkled and glittered in the sun. It was so
quiet and peaceful that he was naturally reminded of the purpose of his
journey. He took out his prayer beads, which an old uncle who was a
gomchen had given him, and began to chant the sacred syllables of Om
Mani Padme Hung. As he recited, he tried to visualise the image of
Chenrezi as his uncle the gomchen had taught him to do. Whenever
he tried to visualise Chenrezi, his mind wandered and he saw his
parents and his brothers and sisters and he began to wonder what they were
doing. At once he would correct himself and try to concentrate. This went on
for a while.
Now he was close to the labza, the
pass credited to be the saddle of the Monla Karchung, where the track
crossing into Tibet is located. He decided that he would rest for a while at
the labza and eat the lazi, the specially prepared food to be
eaten at the labza which his mother had so lovingly packed. He was
only a few paces away from the pile of rocks that marked the labza
when there was suddenly a tremendous thunderous cracking, crashing, and
roaring noise. Everything around seemed to rumble and tremble
uncontrollably. Before the pilgrim realised what was happening, he felt as
if a mat was being pulled away from under his feet. Then he felt himself
falling, falling into a deep hole. Remarkably, he landed on something soft.
It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. He could not even begin to guess
where he was. He sat there petrified that something even more terrible would
happen to him. In his mind he could hear a voice saying, ‘Pray, visualise
Chenrezi,’ but his untrained mind wandered and intense fear gripped him.
He began to tremble and shake so violently that he had to hold onto
something lest he fall off the object he was sitting on. Frantically, he
groped around with his hands until he caught hold of something shaggy that
felt like the mane of a horse. But of course that was not possible, so he
assumed it must have been some dried moss. He held on to it and chanted the
syllables Om Mani Padme Hung loudly while his mind raced wildly and
he could hardly follow the trend of his own thoughts.
When he finally regained some of his
composure, he realised that all around him, in this pitch darkness, there
was total silence. ‘I have to find out where I am,’ he thought. He released
one hand from the moss and stretched out in one direction. His hand came in
contact with nothing. But when he touched the ground, the same soft uneven
surface seemed to stretch endlessly. He repeated this exercise in all
directions and it was the same. There was emptiness all around save for the
ground on which he sat. Then he began to inch his way until he felt that
there was a drop. He dangled his feet down from the level where he was
sitting until the tips of his toes touched the ground. He slowly let himself
down and felt the solid ground under his feet. He took a handful of soil
from the ground just to make sure it was not an illusion. There was ground
under his feet but where was he? Was it a bad dream from which he would wake
up?
A sense of sheer hopelessness enveloped him
and tears of frustration stung his eyes and he cried out loudly. His cries
echoed through what he now guessed was a deep cave. He sat crouched on the
floor hugging his knees, not knowing what to do.
He did not know how much time had passed – he would never know. He began to
explore a little, groping and falling in the darkness but always came back
to the object on which he had fallen. By now he had come to depend on this
object as a landmark. He had rightly guessed that this object was some sort
of animal. Once, while he was feeling for the animal, his hands came in
contact with some udder-like projections on its body. A thick liquid was
oozing out of them. He wondered what it was. Later, in a desperate state of
hunger and thirst, he put his mouth to one of the projections and began to
suckle from it. He had never tasted anything like it in his life; it was
something he could not even describe, but it was not totally unpleasant.
This was the substance that was to nourish him for the rest of his days in
this underground cavern. The warmth from the body of this creature comforted
him for all the time he spent in darkness. In fact, this was his lifeline.
Without it he would surely have perished.
Later, he began praying devotedly and fervently. He tried to concentrate and
by and by he found it was easier and easier to control his mind until he was
able to visualise Chenrezi. Henceforth, he spent the rest of his
time chanting Om Mani Padme Hung, contemplating and meditating and
actually beginning to experience blissful tranquillity.
One day the animal seemed to be agitated and restless. He was worried for he
had now come to depend completely on this great creature for his food and
warmth. He sat against it unable to meditate. A sudden thunderous noise
nearly split his eardrums. It sounded like what he used to know as thunder,
the roar of a dragon. What was happening? A second peal of thunder sounded
even louder and the animal he was leaning on shook violently and roared
forth a thundering sound so that he was thrown onto the ground. He quickly
recovered himself and held onto its mane. It roared again, and on the third
sound it took off with a ferocity so great that it burst through the earth
and he was outside his dark prison.
Once above the surface of the earth, the pilgrim jumped to the ground and
landed safely on the soft snow. The brilliant light hurt his eyes and nearly
blinded him. As he lifted his arms to shield his eyes, he got a glimpse of
the great greenish white serpentine creature, with its mane flying about
wildly, disappearing into the clouds leaving behind a trail of flashing
fire. It was truly a dragon–it looked exactly as it was depicted in the
religious paintings he had gazed at in fascination in the monasteries in
Ugen Choling naktsang!
Now it came to pass that this pilgrim finally
made his way to Tibet. He sought his tsawa lama who was very
surprised that a farmer had reached such a level of meditation on his own.
On hearing of his adventure the lama was sure that this unusual
incident was a deliberate trial, such as sometimes befalls
potentially great choepa.
It is said that this choepa
never returned to Bhutan but spent the rest of his life in meditation
and prayer. It can be assumed that the pilgrim spent at least two to three
months in the cavern, as he had started his journey in early spring and came
out only with the start of the rains which is marked by thunder and
lightning. This is the time when hibernating dragons emerge from their
resting places and set in motion the mysterious phenomenon of fiery skies
and claps of thunder that result in torrents of rain.
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