sKyabs-rje rDo-grub-chen Rin-po-che Thub-bstan-phrin-las-dpal-bzang-po aka ’Jigs-med-phrin-las-dpal-’bar (1927–2022), a leading contemporary master of the rNying-ma school of Tibetan Buddhism, passed away on Tuesday, January 25, 2022. rDo-grub-chen seems to embody the Klong-chen-snying-thig tradition. We can no longer think of Klong-chen-snying-thig without thinking of rDo-grub-chen. He was a vajrayānikayogin, and not a bhikṣu. He did not make noise about Vajrayāna. He breathed Vajrayāna; embodied Vajrayāna; lived Vajrayāna. He was known for categorically and consistently distancing himself from secular and religious politics. To the extent possible, he also attempted to distance himself from politicians, thereby imparting an impression that he was not respectful to them. He obviously did not try to please all people. He did not please all people. But this is not my concern here. My concern here is something personal.
I did not have the privilege to see him in person and receive teachings from him. But rDo-grub-chen, somehow, remains deeply personal to me. Here is the reason. Without waiting for the results of my final high school examinations, I managed to get for myself a scholarship to study Buddhism in the monastic seminary, Ngagyur Nyingma Institute, Mysore; travelled to Mysore; got ordained as a novice; passed the entrance examinations; got enrolled; and started studying. All these happened within less than a month. With the fear that my family members, relatives, friends, and teachers would dissuade me from taking this step, I did not reveal my plans to anyone. Not even to my mother. I did eventually write to them. With my family, especially with my mother, I played the dharma-card. She had to give her approval and support. My elder brother, a military personal from the Royal Bhutan Army, knew what I was up to, and gave his support. He said, “So, you are studying the Thirteen Great Treatises (gzhung chen bcu gsum).” One night, after spending three years in the seminary, I saw my mother in a dream. I usually do not ascribe any significance to dreams. In the dream, I was talking to my mother. She was not facing me. I could see her face only from the side. She seemed a bit aloof. It saddened me. I woke up with a slight startle. As I lay there in bed, I could not help wondering about her wellbeing. That evening during the debating session in the park, the disciplinarian walked up to me and handed me a letter. It was from my brother. I nervously opened it. My mother has passed away. I considered my mother to be fortunate. Every week, last rites were performed for her sake. The most important one was performed in the third week (on the 21st day). The entire Saṃgha had gathered. The Saṃgha performed the zhi khro rites, involving also summoning my mother’s consciousness, giving initiations and instructions, and the like. Regardless of the efficacy of the last rites, these gave me comfort. Even more comforting was the news that I received from my brother.
My mother passed away in sGang-gzor, a village near lHun-rtse-rdzong in northeast Bhutan. The nearest cemetery or cremation ground is mKho-ma-dur-khrod, situated at the confluence of two rivers (i.e. sKu-ri-chu and mKho-ma-chu). This cemetery, for some, is the Śītavana of Bhutan. It is an ideal sacred spot for cremation. Just as preparations were being made for the cremation and the funeral rites, rDo-grub-chen and his entourage, who were visiting places such as the Seng-ge-rdzong, a famous sacred place associated with Padmasambhava and Ye-shes-mtsho-rgyal, dGon-pa-dkar-po, and so forth, arrived. rDo-grub-chen then naturally performed several quintessential rites for my mother, the most significant, in my view, being the ’pho ba ritual. I consider my mother to be extremely fortunate, and I shall remain forever grateful to rDo-grub-chen, not only for what he did for the rNying-ma school of Tibetan Buddhism and its devotees, but especially for performing the last rites for my mother.
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