Ribur Rinpoche passed away
January 15, 2006
Office of Tibet, New
York[Friday, January 20, 2006
20:04]
Ribur Rinpoche, a Tibetan lama responsible for
salvaging and bringing back some of Tibet's holiest spiritual treasures
from China, passed away January 16 in India.
Born 1923 in the
eastern Tibetan region of Kham, Rinpoche was recognized by the Thirteenth
Dalai Lama as reincarnation of a well-known spiritual master.
In
1959 the invading Chinese army imprisoned him in Lhasa. For the next 20
years, Rinpoche suffered "relentless interrogation and
torture".
Following Deng Xiaoping's liberalization policy of 1979,
Rinpoche was released from prison and rehabilitated with a job at the
Religious Bureau of Tibet.
In his capacity as a member of the
Religious Bureau, Rinpoche went to China and brought back a large number
of Tibetan spiritual treasures.
Following is Rinpoche's story of
that journey, written in 1987, some time after his escape to
India:
In the wake of China's liberalization policy towards
Tibet, a meeting on religious affairs was held in Beijing in 1981. At the
meeting, the Tibetan delegates (including me) pleaded vigorously for the
repatriation of Tibet's religious treasures, plundered during the Cultural
Revolution and now gathering dust in China's storehouses. Unfortunately,
nothing came of our request in that year.
However, in late 1982 the
Religious Bureau of the Tibet Autonomous Region summoned a meeting in
Lhasa—attended by representatives from the Religious Association of `TAR',
the Department for the Preservation of National Treasures, and several
other official bodies. During the meeting, Baba Kalsang Namgyal, an
official from the Cultural Bureau of `TAR', announced that the authorities
in Beijing had ordered the reinstatement of Tibetan religious artifacts to
their places of origin.
Phuntsok Yonten from the Religious Bureau
of `TAR', staff member of the Norbulingka, Karma, and I were to journey to
Chengdu, Taiyuan, and Beijing to track down such items as remained. I was
appointed to lead the team and we were to be assisted by Demo Rinpoche's
daughter, Yangdon, as our interpreter.
This decision was the result
of numerous factors: our appeal during the 1981 meeting, a series of
concerted requests from the Panchen Lama and several other high lamas of
Amdo, Beijing's desire to lend credibility to their professed policy of
liberalization and religious freedom in Tibet, etc.
Right from the
time I was told to go to China, I had made up my mind on the focus of our
mission: the upper half of Jowo Mikyoe Dorjee.
The statues of Jowo
Sakyamuni and Jowa Mikyoe Dorjee have been revered as the nation's most
sacred religious treasures since their arrival in Tibet in the early
seventh century.
Although the image of Sakyamuni remained almost
intact at the Jokhang in Lhasa, that of Mikyoe Dorjee had been hacked in
two, and the gold and jewel-encased torso carted away to China. The
recovery of the upper half of this national treasure would be of
immeasurable significance and joy to all Tibetans.
Immediately
after the meeting, I went to the Jokhang, Lhasa's seventh century central
cathedral, to trace the lower half of Jowo Mikyoe Dorjee. I found it with
the help of the Jokhang's caretaker Lobsang Phuntsok.
I inspected
it carefully, measuring the diameter at the severed arms and waist,
examining the metal components and contours, and texture of the precious
ash which filled the statue as relics so that I would make no mistake in
identifying the torso in China, even if it was badly
disfigured.
Baba Kalsang Namgyal approached us just before our
departure to China to announce that the Chinese authorities had decreed
that we were to bring back only those items that were serviceable, and
that we should not bring anything from the city of Chengdu.
So it
was that on December 19, 1982 we left Lhasa and reached Beijing via
Chengdu. On reaching Beijing, we were received by a kindly Chinese
official from the Religious Bureau of China: he was to be our guide in the
Chinese capital.
On December 30 we were led to a crumbling and
historic building called the Gu Gong. Around the time of Emperor Ch'ien
Lung, this building had been an imperial guest house: this was told to us
later by an elderly Chinese woman, Tang Lin Fang.
Our curiosity was
aroused by a Chinese sign over the portal of the main hall. We asked Madam
Tang, a staff member of the Gu Gong and our guide in this building, to
explain what it said. She explained that it read "Imperial Chapel for Long
Life", and that the Tibetan statues inside it had been transferred from a
foundry in 1972. Tang good-heartedly expressed her happiness that the
religious treasures stored for so long in the Gu Gong would finally be
restored to their original homes.
On entering the spacious main
hall of the Gu Gong, we were confronted by the incredible sight of
hundreds of statues of all sizes, piled until they almost touched the
ceiling. The doors on either side of this hall opened on to two smaller
rooms that were also filled to bursting with Tibetan religious objects. In
the hall, my eyes immediately fell upon large, mutilated statues amongst
the heap. Could the torso of the Jowo be one of them? It was heart-renting
to see them mutilated, coated in the dust of a decade of negligence and
disrespect.
As we entered the building my colleagues and I stood
frozen, our faces fallen and our emotions welling. With tears streaming
down my cheeks, I reached for one statue at random. And there in my hand
lay a beautiful, most sacred and historically significant image of Green
Tara. I took it as a good omen for our mission.
For the next few
days the Gu Gong was locked for the New Year celebration. In the
meanwhile, we went to a fabric mill to buy huge quantities of rags to use
as padding, and also commissioned appropriate wooden crates.
On
January 6, 1983, when the Gu Gong was opened again, we employed ten
elderly Chinese to help and went once more to the storerooms. All this
time, there had been only one thing on my mind: the missing half of the
Jowo. Was it in one of these dusty heaps? Or had it been melted into
bullion in one of China's foundries? Or was it right now languishing in
some other part of China?
Watching the old Chinese at work,
removing the piles, piece by piece and dusting them, I spotted what looked
like a lifesize torso lying under a twisted heap. I shouted for my
colleagues, and together we prised it out. We took it outside to the
courtyard. It was so heavy that three strong men could barely lift
it.
Once outside, I sent the colleagues back to their work. I sat
alone with the bust and examined it meticulously. There was thick gold
plating left under the armpits. But the gold plating from the rest of the
statue was missing—parted from it at some stage during the journey from
Lhasa to Beijing. The chest, navel, nose and right eye all bore the scars
of hammering. But a fair amount of precious ash relic was still inside.
(Translator: Precious ash is produced through a complicated process of
alchemy by which gold, silver and various precious stones and other metals
are burned in airtight pans for a prolonged period. It is primarily used
for the Tibetan medicine, but also as relics for very, very holy statues.)
The iron bars fortifying the inside of the torso were also there. When I
moved the vertical bar, I could feel the horizontal bar across the
shoulders move. The famous face was unmistakable. And the type of metal,
the texture of the precious ash as well as the diameter at severed edges
of the arms and waist all matched perfectly with the statue's lower
portion in Lhasa. The goal of my mission was
accomplished.
Remembering the Panchen Lama's instruction to ring
him up immediately if I found anything important, I dialed Beijing 554464,
the number he had given me. He asked me emphatically if I was sure that
there was no mistake. I assured him, explaining all the matching details.
Soon after, the Panchen Lama came and inspected the torso thoroughly. He
was delighted with what he saw and pronounced that we could be ninety five
percent sure that it was indeed the Jowo's missing half. When they heard
about the Panchen Lama's impromptu visit, some Chinese officials of the
Beijing Cultural Bureau and several other related departments rushed to
the Gu Gong, joined by some staff members of the building
itself.
The Panchen Lama then explained to the Chinese that in the
past Tibet had two venerated Jowos, reduced to one later. Now there would
again be two Jowos in Tibet, he said. He went on to say that the
genuineness of China's new religious policy would be judged by their
attitude to our mission, and that, therefore, they must help us. Then,
turning to me, he complimented us on the find and urged us to continue to
work hard. That evening he sent us tea, butter, meat, cheese, tsampa—a
variety of Tibetan food in quantities to sustain us during our entire stay
in Beijing.
Sonam Norbu, originally from Derge region in Kham, and
one of the foremost Tibetan officials in Beijing, visited us often and
helped us enormously. He showed great empathy for the Tibetan people and
religion, despite the fact that he was working for the
Chinese.
Later, during our stay, the Panchen Lama donated fresh
gold plating for the Jowo and conducted a brief consecration ceremony. He
had also ordered for a special packing crate for the precious
statue.
From the Gu Gong alone, we packed over twenty six tonnes of
religious treasures in over four hundred and sixty three wooden crates.
The Jowo was carried to another room where we placed it facing Tibet, and
prayed to it.
Statues and ritual objects made of bell and other
semi-precious metals were found tossed in the basement of another derelict
building known as Kongzi Miao, Confucian temple. From there we packed six
tonnes of crafted metals in about another hundred crates. Although we had
been ordered in Lhasa not to bring back "unserviceable" items, we did not
leave even a scrap behind.
Now we were ready to return to Tibet. We
decided to spend a few days in Beijing. During the time, I remembered that
as a young man I had lamented the brevity of the story concerning the
itinerary of Phagpa Lugu Shree's statue. This statue, the chief image in
the Potala, had been taken by the Mongols, and had remained in some area
near Amdo for some time until the Fifth Dalai Lama brought it back to the
Potala. Unfortunately, the story was not recorded extensively enough to
give us clear information, which, I used to think, was a great loss to the
future generations of Tibetans like me.
Therefore, I decided to
document the odyssey of the Jowo as comprehensively as possible so as not
to let our posterity feel the way I did about the record of the statue of
Phagpa Lugu Shree. The first Chinese we consulted did not seem interested
in helping us. Then we turned to our old source: Madam Tang Lin Fang. She
promised to introduce us to a Chinese official who, she said, could have
the information we sought. A few days later we were led to a genial, old
Chinese man.
He told us that during the Cultural Revolution, most
of the Tibetan cultural artifacts were carted to China and destroyed. The
statues and ritual objects of pure gold and silver were never seen again.
Those of gilded copper, bell-metal, red copper, brass, etc., were ferried
to Luyen, from where they were eventually sold to foundries in Shanghai,
Sichuan, Taiyun, Beijing, etc. A Precious Metal Foundry, situated about
five kilometres to the cast of Beijing city, alone purchased about six
hundred tonnes of Tibetan crafted metals.
"However", he continued,
"in 1973 it came to the notice of Li Xiannian and Ulanfu that Tibet's
religious objects were being melted down into bullion in many Chinese
foundries. They ordered this to stop immediately. In July of the same
year, a committee of twenty people was formed to look into this: I had
been one of this group. We then visited this to discover that out of the
six hundred tonnes, only about fifty tonnes were left by then. They were
also dumped most carelessly in the open air, barricaded by barbed wire.
From the fifty tonnes, we salvaged only twenty tonnes since the rest of
the objects were beyond repair.
"Then another consignment of thirty
tonnes arrived from Tibet to the same foundry -- most of the artifacts
were ruined in the transit. We rescued only six tonnes from this lot and
those were the ones you found this time at the Confusion temple. I cannot
tell you anything about the objects sent to foundries in other areas like
Shanghai, Tianjin, Taiyun, Sichuan, etc. since I did not go
there."
We were still in Beijing in the spring of 1983 when the
Tibetan Water Hog New Year arrived. On the third day of the celebration,
the Panchen Lama hosted a party in our honour to which several Chinese
officials were invited. During the party, the Panchen Lama urged us to
make sure that the statues retrieved from the storage in China were made
accessible to the faithful in Tibet and that they did not end up in yet
another storage.
The Chinese Religious Association also gave us a
party, during which the president of the association presented us two
thousand yuans for the renovation of the Jowo. Almost all the Tibetans in
Beijing—students and officials—visited us frequently and helped us
tremendously.
We were able to send about six hundred crates
containing 13,537 statues on a train bound for Chengdu. Phuntsok Yonten
was to go to Taiyuan to check on the quantity of Tibet's religious
artifacts in storage there, while the remaining three of us were to fly
with the precious Jowo. On the seventeenth day of the first month of the
Tibetan calendar, which fell that year on March 2, 1983, we went to the Gu
Gong for the last time and packed the statue of the Jowo.
It was
9.00 a.m. when we laid the Jowo in its special crate. As we drove off with
the statue, it started raining. This was the first rain of the year in
Beijing. The rain stopped as soon as we pulled up at the airport. Such
timely rainfall is considered very auspicious in our religious
tradition.
There were two hours to wait before the plane took off.
We spent the time buying snacks and exchanging happy conversation, in the
course of which I told my colleagues to remember to speak about these
auspicious natural signs when were back in Tibet. "Who knows, all the
deities of Tibet must be waiting for the arrival of the Jowo", I said
light-heartedly. Phuntsok Yonten speculated on what his own local deity
would produce for the reception. "Perhaps some strong Tibetan chang for
you," I teased. While all these small talks were going on, Panchen Lama
paid us a surprise visit. He was happy with the mood of jubilance. He had
come to bid farewell to the Jowo. He asked us where we had placed it. We
showed him. He made offerings and prayed to Tibet's revered and historic
statue.
A two-hour flight took us to the Sichuan city of Chengdu.
Due to some complications we could not catch the connecting flight that
day. So the Jowo was housed in a temple belonging to the Religious
Association of Chengdu. The monks of that temple made offerings and prayed
to the Jowo in their traditional way. The next day a Chinese abbot of the
Chengdu Religious Association visited us and asked to be told the story of
the Jowo. I told the following:
"It is popularly believed that
during the lifetime of the Buddha his image was made in the form of three
or four statues. The Buddha himself blessed those statues. But only two
statues survive to this day. One of these two statues depicts him as an
eight-year-old and the other as a twelve-year-old. At some point in
history, the statues were presented from India to the kings of Nepal and
China, from where they eventually found their way to Tibet.
"The
seventh century Tibetan king, Songtsen Gampo, married the Chinese and
Nepalese princesses mainly, it is said, because he wanted to acquire these
images as dowries for Tibet. This particular statue, Jowo Mikyoe Dorjee,
is the eight-year-old image of the Buddha, and it came to Tibet with the
dowry of Nepalese princess Bhrikuti Devi; the one still in Lhasa, Jowo
Sakyamuni, is the twelve-year-old image, and it was brought by the Chinese
bride, Wen Ch'eng."
The abbot was awe-struck by our story and asked
to know how the torso of Jowo Mikyoe Dorjee had ended up in Beijing. Time
permitted me to tell only a very brief story. The next day the abbot
brought a large group of Chinese monks to pray to the Jowo, and so we
opened the crate. The abbot sat facing the statue while the monks placed
themselves in two rows on either side of the statue. We joined the prayer,
although we could not pray in the Chinese language and tradition. In a
melodious voice, their prayer leader started the chant.
The
following morning we were visited by an official from the Religious Bureau
of Sichuan, accompanied by a very reputed nun called Lung Nei, president
of the Sichuan Religious Association, plus the secretary and the
vice-secretary of the association and some elderly nuns. The nuns chanted
in Tibetan! We were flabbergasted. We asked them if a Tibetan lama had
ever taught them. Yes, the nuns were disciples of Reverend Yonten Gyatso,
who, in turn, was a disciple of Khangsar Rinpoche. Reverend Yonten Gyatso,
a monk of the Drepung Monastery, had preached in that border area.
Although the nuns did not know Tibetan, they could read prayers from the
Tibetan scriptures. They even gave us a photograph of Khangsar
Rinpoche.
In Chengdu, Phuntsok Yonten caught up with us to give us
the devastating news that out of the hundreds of tonnes of Tibetan statues
and other objects in Taiyuan, less than one tonne had survived. The rest
had been melted down. At the same time, we received a cable from Lhasa,
instructing us to collect about two tonnes of Tibetan statues and other
cultural items from the district of Meishan in Sichuan province to the
south-west of Chengdu. These items, the cable instructed, were to be given
over in Chamdo, eastern Tibet.
In Chengdu foundry's warehouse,
there was five tonnes of Tibetan treasures, which we went to collect. In
the beginning, the management refused to hand them over to us, claiming
that they had paid the government for these items. But eventually we
managed to retrieve them. We searched in this lot for historically
significant, very sacred, or those with valuable ingredients. Sadly we
found none. Picking out only about forty cymbals, we left the rest of the
items in the care of Chengdu Religious Association.
At a party
hosted in our honour by the Chengdu Religious Association, we met Lithang
Sogdrung Tulku and several other Tibetan tulkus (Tulkus are reincarnated
lamas) based in Chengdu. We told the tulkus that we had left some five
tonnes of Tibetan religious items with the association for distribution to
monasteries and temples in Tibet and that a particular big statue of the
Buddha was to be given to the Lithang Monastery. The Tibetan lamas were
delighted with these donations and thanked us. There were quite a number
of Tibetans in Chengdu, some of them high-ranking officials in Chinese
administration, and they did everything they could for us. Whether they
had faith in religion or not, they certainly harbored strong feelings of
Tibetan nationalism.
On March 29 we went to Chengdu airport and
spent the night there. Next morning, at 6.00 a.m. (Beijing Standard Time)
we took off. About half an hour later we were flying over Tibet. A great
feeling of nostalgia engulfed us as we saw the familiar mountains of our
homeland. Huge plumes of snow blowing from the summits of some mountains
looked like the smoke from great incense offerings. Some cloud formations
resembled mandalas while others looked like curling white
scarves.
We were certain that several cars and a traditional
reception with religious trumpets, white scarves, incense offerings, etc.,
would be waiting for the Jowo at Lhasa airport. We were wrong. Far from a
splendid celebratory reception, there was not even a separate car for the
Jowo. Tseling Rinpoche and Sengchen met us in the only car that had come
for the reception. The statue of the Jowo and I crammed unceremoniously
into their car.
My colleagues had to wait for public transport.
They were puce with anger, and so was I. Actually there was an important
political meeting going on in Lhasa at that time and all the official
vehicles were requisitioned for that purpose.
When we reached the
Jokhang there was a throng of thousands of devotees carrying scarves,
smoldering incense, fresh flowers, etc., waiting to welcome the Jowo.
Inside, I made straight for the altar of Jowo Sakyamuni and placed my
offering of fresh flowers and fruits. A temporary throne facing the statue
of Jowo Sakyamuni had been made, and on this we reverentially placed Jowo
Mikyoe Dorjee. There was overwhelming joy and emotional relief at the
reunion of both the Jowos in Tibet after such a prolonged
separation.
Prayers were conducted for the spread of the Buddha
dharma, for the happiness of all sentient beings, and for a long and
successful life of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. During the prayers,
ceremonial rice and tea were served. At the end of the ritual, I was
presented with a congratulatory scarf and money by the chief caretaker;
the rest of the staff members of the Jokhang then each offered me a
scarf.
Rumours had been whispered from some quarters insinuating
that this might not have been a real torso of the Jowo. But when the staff
members of Jokhang put the two halves together, even the folds of the
robe, as carved on the statue, matched perfectly, confirming without a
slightest shred of doubt that there had been absolutely no
mistake.
Now it was time for the renovation and relic-offering. The
responsibility for offering relics was entrusted to the Religious Bureau
of Lhasa city. We were called to attend a meeting to this effect. During
the meeting, it was decided that, for the time being, simple relics would
do. This is because all the Tibetans hoped that the ultimate
relic-offering will be done by His Holiness the Dalai Lama when he returns
to a free Tibet. The meeting also decided to build a new lotus seat for
the Jowo. About fifteen kilos of silver and a sizeable quantity of other
metals was donated by the religious institutes to whom we had distributed
the statues and other objects repatriated from China.
The original
jewel-encrusted crown and ear-rings of Mikyoe Dorjee were with the
department in charge of Norbulingka treasure. We tried to recover them,
but all our requests were turned down. Finally we had to make a new crown
and ear rings from a mixture of gold and silver.
In 1985, when
renovations to the Ramoche Cathedral, the original seat of Jowo Mikyoe
Dorjee, were almost complete, the beloved national treasure was taken to
preside, once more, over its home of thirteen centuries.
Courtesy of http://www.phayul.com/news/article.aspx?article=Ribur+Rinpocheis+no+more,+His+Story+Remains+with+Us&id=11653 |