The next day I stayed at the temple and spent the time with great enjoyment. The following day I left the hospitable monastery and resumed my journey, which included the surmounting of a steep hill, known under the name of the ‘Hill of Salvation’. My host seemed to have had some spiritual affinity with me in a past life, so considerate was he in his behavior to me. For instance, he lent me a yak to carry me over the hill, and moreover gave me some articles of food and various delicacies. I took friendly leave of him, and then started on my journey on the back of the yak, which was led by a guide.
On the hill I came across many Tibetan pilgrims intent on displaying their religious zeal and piety, and their behavior more than ever convinced me that a strong fanaticism characterises the people of that land. Climbing alone was no easy task, and was one that strained even the sturdiest of legs, and yet I noticed several young pilgrims of both sexes performing the journey according to the ‘one-step-one-bow’ method, commonly adopted as a penance. As for me I felt greatly fatigued, though I was riding on the yak, for the atmosphere in that elevated region is very rare and was highly trying to my lungs. When I had ascended the hill for about five miles my respiration became very rapid and I was much exhausted. I therefore rested for awhile, and refreshed myself by taking some medicine. It was while I was taking rest that I noticed a burly fellow frantically confessing to and worshipping the snowy Tise.
My guide informed me that that man was a native of Kham, a place notorious as being a haunt of brigands and highwaymen. He really looked like a typical highwayman, with ferocious features and fierce eyes, and was performing his penance in a loud voice. He must have been a notorious figure even in that land of universal crime.
I was highly amused to find that this fellow was doing penance not for his past offences alone, but also to obtain immunity for any crimes he might commit in future. His extraordinary confession was something in this way: “O Saint Kang Rinpoche! O great Shākyamuni! O all Buḍḍhas and Boḍhisaṭṭvas in the ten quarters of the world and in the time past, present and future! I have been wicked in the past. I have murdered a number of men. I have taken a great deal that did not belong to me. I have robbed husbands of their wives. I have quarrelled ever so many times, and I have also thrashed people. Of all those great sins I repent, and so I solemnly perform my penance here on this hill for them. I believe that by this act of confession and repentance, I have been absolved from those sins. I also perform here penance for my prospective sins, for I may in future repeat them, may rob people of their goods and wives, or thrash and beat them.”
This fellow, I thought, was decidedly original in his conception of penance, and surpassed other sinners by performing a prospective repentance instead of, as in the ordinary method, confining himself to penitence for his past sins. Yet I was told that this convenient mode of repentance was universal in the robber district of Kham.
Our path next lay over a hill known as the hill of the Dolma-la, meaning the Pass of the Mother of the Savior. On ascending the hill one sees to the right a snowy range of the northern parts of Mount Kailāsa, named in Tibetan Gyalpo Norjingi Phoprang, which means the “residence of King Kuvera”, the God of Wealth. The spot is very famous to Indians also; even in early times in India the great poet Kāliḍāsa described this magnificent mansion with its immense views in his masterpiece of the Meghaḍūṭa—The cloud-messenger. Seeing it, I said in my fancy: “Is it not really the mansion of the God of Wealth—that crystal abode shining in the emerald sky?” I mused furthermore that a mammon-worshipper will certainly one day explore that shining region, expecting to find a diamond mine. On the crest of Dolma-la stands a natural stone image of the Mother of the Savior. On the north-east of it a number of queer-shaped rocks and fantastic stones are to be seen, their points all looking like images. These were explained by my guide as twenty-one images of the Mother of the Savior. This crest of the hill is very high, and indeed does not appear lower in height than the top of Tise itself, the height of which is about 22,300 feet above sea-level. The air is therefore very rarefied and the temperature very low. Even when I remained quiet I felt the effect of the high altitude, for my heart beat rapidly and I suffered much pain. I thought that I should hardly have been able to perform the journey on foot, and that therefore I was deeply indebted to my host for lending me a yak to carry me over the series of hills. The Tibetan pilgrims did not seem to suffer to any particular extent from the effects of the rarefied atmosphere. They possess capacious lungs and can therefore climb any elevated hill without fatigue. Of course ordinary people, who do not possess lungs half as large as those of the Tibetans, can hardly expect to undertake this journey with so much ease. As it was, I felt very much exhausted, even though I did not walk on foot but rode on the yak. Near the foot of the hill I found a large pond which was entirely frozen over—a pond associated with an interesting legend. In ancient times, says that legend, the God of Wealth and his family used the water of this pond to wash their hands, for in those days it was not frozen in summer. Afterwards a woman pilgrim carrying a baby on her back came to the pond. As she bent over to wash her hands, the baby slipped off her back into the water and was drowned. The guardian deities of the place then consulted how to provide against such accidents, and they decided that the pond should be frozen over all the year around.
The descent is rather sharp, and it was uncomfortable sitting on the yak’s back, so I dismounted and trotted down after the animal.
At last we reached the eastern part of Tise and arrived at the Zun-tul phuk, which means the cave of miracles, founded by the hermit Jetsun Milaraspa, one of the most venerated saints in the Tibetan hagiology. Various interesting traditions are told about this saint, but these I need not give here, as they are too technical. I may say, however, that Milaraspa is said to have led a highly austere life, and that he did much to diffuse the true tenets of Buḍḍhism. He was also a great poet, the only poet who figures in the long history of Tibet. His biography therefore reads like a romance or a great epic, full of sublime conceptions. Milaraspa being such a unique personality in the history of Tibet, his name has attracted the attention of western explorers, and extracts from his poems have been translated. After returning to Darjeeling I explained his poems to a certain Russian traveller and writer, who translated them into his national tongue. He was much delighted with the information which I gave him, and told me that my translation enabled him to interpret something of the spirit of the great Tibetan epic.
We stayed one night at that temple, and on the following day proceeded along the banks of the river Ham-hung-gi-chu (shoe-dropping river) and reached a place which contained a temple called Gyang-tak-gonpa. This temple is dedicated to Dorje Karmo, the Goddess named White Vajra. The place is situated about one mile off the road and near by is a postal station named Darchen Tazam. This station contains about thirty houses built of stone, besides about a dozen tents pitched here and there. It is a business as well as a revenue centre for the whole district. I lodged at one of the houses, and here the guide took leave of me. That night I performed my usual religious meditation, and on the morning of the following day my pilgrim companions rejoined me.