I have already told how I met the Prince of Para at the druggist’s; now I met no less unexpectedly a merchant of Darjeeling, Tsa Rong-ba by name, who also proved afterwards a great help to me at the time of my departure from Tibet. I think before I go on further I shall do well to narrate how I happened to meet him. Once I was walking along Parkor, the ‘Middle path for the circumambulation of the holy temple of the Buḍḍha’ and the busiest street in Lhasa. At the sides of the street are many shops, not very different from those in most other countries. Many portable shops or stalls may also be seen in the street, in which daily necessaries are sold, and articles of food, clothing and furniture. Most of these things are of course made in Tibet, though some are imports from Calcutta and Bombay as also from China. But the thing that attracted my eye most was a box of Japanese matches. Japanese matches, manufactured by Doi of Osaka, are imported into the capital of Tibet, besides some other kinds without the names of the manufacturers on them. There were to be seen, among others, those which have the trade mark of two elephants and of one, as well as the wax candles with the trade mark of an elephant coming out of a house. The paper was red with a white picture on it. Some matches of Swedish make were also imported, but they are now ousted by the Japanese. Some Japanese bamboo blinds with pictures of women may also be seen in Tibet. Some kutani porcelain is seen in the high circles, but rarely in stores or shops. Japanese scroll pictures too are often found hanging in the houses of rich families. These inanimate Japanese articles are more daring than the people who made them!
Wishing that these articles, an outcome of Japanese civilisation, might be conducive to light in dark Tibet, I walked along the street, till I came to a shop where I saw a cake of soap. It looked as good as any that could be found in the Tibetan capital. I walked into the shop and asked how much it cost, and I noticed the master staring at me. He looked very much like a merchant with whom I became acquainted in Darjeeling but I could not believe that he could be settled there, and wondered if he were a kinsman of that merchant. No, it was, as I found afterwards, the man himself, whose name was Tsa Rong-ba. But I had then so different an appearance myself that he too could not easily recognise me. For while in Darjeeling I had usually dressed myself in Japanese dress and scarcely went out in a Tibetan costume, though I often put it on indoors. After my arrival in Tibet, I clothed myself entirely as a Tibetan. Moreover I now had my beard growing long, which I had not at Darjeeling. The man told me that the soap was too dear, and showed me another cheap and good kind, but I liked the dearer one better and bought two cakes of it. When I came home and showed them to the Minister of Finance, he was so pleased with them for their good smell that he asked me to let him have one cake, so I gave him both.
UNEXPECTED MEETING OF FRIENDS.
A couple of days afterwards I again went to Tsa Rong-ba’s to buy a few cakes of the same soap, as I feared it might soon be out of stock. Instead of selling me the soap, the master stared me in the face. When I tried to pay the price, he began asking me if I knew him. The sound of his voice plainly told me his identity and I laughed as I replied that I knew him. He looked much surprised and told me to come into his house. Telling his servants to close the doors of the shop, for it was now getting dark, he led me into his house, which was small in size but neat and clean. I was led into his parlor upstairs, and found his wife who came with him from Darjeeling. I recognised her at once, but she seemed to have quite forgotten me. Even when her husband said she must know me, as she had received much kind treatment from me, she could not recollect me, until he told her how she had received medicine from me when ill at Darjeeling. She then expressed her joy at seeing me in such a strange place and so unexpectedly.
Then the husband and wife expressed their great wonder that I, a stranger, had succeeded in entering Tibet, when it was exceedingly difficult for even a Tibetan to come or go to the capital. They did not believe me when I told them that I had come by the way of Jangthang; for they said there were soldiers placed on guard all along the road. I said I had come through pathless wilds, but they refused to believe me. But now I thought myself to be within a hair’s breadth of the danger of detection, which would bring everything in my plan to naught. Were I known to be a Japanese, some evil or other would certainly befall me, and all the kindness of the Ministers and the priests at Sera to me would end in air-bubbles. I feared this merchant might betray me to the Government for his own benefit. I must get the better of him, I thought, and I tried to do so.
Assuming a serious attitude, speaking in a determined tone of voice, and looking the man and the woman straight in their eyes, I said: “Here is a fine job for you; you can give me up to the authorities; tell them that I am a ‘Japan Lama’ in disguise, who smuggled himself into the country against its laws. By so doing you may serve a double purpose, for I have been thinking that sooner or later I shall have to do the same thing myself, only I was afraid that they might not believe me. But if you do it for me you will save me the trouble, while the authorities will believe; besides, you may come into a nice bit of fortune; for they will reward you for your information with a large sum of money. I have long made up my mind.”
I noticed a change come over the looks of the woman first: she turned pale and even began to tremble; but the man spoke first, and, in a tone of both appeal and reproach, earnestly protested that he had no such intention as that of which I seemed to suspect him. Indeed he went the length—quite voluntarily—of swearing by “Cho-o Rinpoche” that he would never betray me, lest he should die. Still I urged them both. He once more gave his pledge, in which the woman joined in the most fear-stricken manner, both raising their hands, with which they pointed in the direction of the ‘Buḍḍha temple’ of Lhasa. I knew what the latter act with the words of the oath meant. I became convinced of their sincerity, and saw that I was safe in their hands. For Cho-o Rinpoche means “Holiness of the Savior” and forms in Tibet the most solemn words of swearing which, when uttered in the manner described, furnish the strongest possible proof of sincerity. It is true that Tibetans are much given to swearing, and possess a great variety of expressions for the purpose, there being forty-five of them to my own knowledge. Those most commonly in use are “Konjogsum” (Holy three treasures) and “Ama tang te!” (separate me from my mother). The natives are in the habit of using these oaths as words of interjection. But when, in all seriousness, they subject themselves to the form observed by my host and his wife, they may safely be depended upon for their absolute sincerity. As it was, I pressed them no further, and they seemed to be well pleased at the final dispelling of all my suspicion against them.