A LEGEND OF THE DIVINE MADMAN
Bhutan has a rich tradition of stories, a mix of folklore and mythology, much of it drawn from ancient Buddhist scriptures. Among the most popular of the fireside stories are the outrageous antics of Lam Drukpa Kuenley, also known as the Divine Madman. Bhutanese men, women, and children love the teachings of the unorthodox lama who enjoys cutting through the layers of sham and hypocrisy, even in religious society, that often obstruct rater than help Buddhist practice.
The kongyer (caretaker monk), a chubby red-robbed figure balancing a wooden tray of tormas (butter sculpture religious offerings) in one hand and an altar dust cloth in the other, looks impatiently at the unruly figure standing outside the outer door of the alcove. The visitor, an unwashed man dressed in a black gho that hangs untidily on his body, steadies himself by placing his hand on the door-frame and smiles back, unperturbed.
“I am here to seek an audience with His Holiness Lam Ngawang Chhoeje,” the visitor declares, apparently oblivious of the austere atmosphere inside the lhakhang (temple) where a number of lamas are seated on raised cushions, talking in soft tones. He burps into the back of his hand and looks up at the koengyer who is standing at the raised doorway of the lhakhang. His breath reeks of ara (local fermented wine). He smiles, showing a set of strong, un-brushed teeth.
“I’m sorry but you can’t meet Rinpoche,” explains the monk. “He’s busy with the high lamas who are here for tomorrow’s wang (blessing ceremony). Go join the devotees out there and wait.”
Outside, the crowd is gathering. Hundreds of people are arriving for the tshewang (long life blessings) scheduled for the next day, the auspicious 10th day of the 10th month. They are laying their clothes on the ground to reserve space as close to the monastery as possible so they can get a glimpse of the Lam (lama) the next morning. Tomorrow there will be thousands more arriving.
“No I don’t think the lamas are really busy discussing the wang,” says the visitor. “They are planning to raise funds for tomorrow for the extension of the monastery.” He grins at the kongyer. Annoyed by the insolence of this obviously intoxicated man, the monk raises his voice. “I don’t know how you got past the gate but I think its time that you went back right now. If you have come for the wang, be there tomorrow.”
Hearing their, voices two other monks appear beside the kongyer. “Don’t waste your time, Lopon Kongyer,” says the older monk. “You have too much to do. The tormas are not even ready. You! (Addressing the visitor) – get out of here.”
The third monk, the youngest of the three, whispers to the other two. “I think this man might related to Rinpoche. Better check with Rinpoche before we kick him out.” He disappears into the monastery. The visitor steps into the alcove. “I think it is funny that people are sitting out there praying to the lamas who are actually talking business. Do you think a bigger monastery will give better blessings?” he laughs. Before the two monks can reply, the young monk returns and whispers to them.
The kongyer turns to the visitor. “Okay, you can go in but be brief because Rinpoche has no time to waste,” he says with obvious reluctance. “Take your shoes off,” he adds sharply as the visitor moves towards the inner door. The visitor kicks off his weather-beaten muddy shoes, picks them up, and walks towards the shoe rack lined with the bright brocade-covered boots of the lamas.
“No, not there,” says the kongyer. “You, stranger, do not seem to know your place. Your dirty shoes cannot be placed with those of the lamas.” With an exasperated look on his face, the visitor looks around the room.
He notices a beam of the afternoon sun coming through a half-open window. “All right then, I’ll leave it here.” He walks towards the sunbeam, and casually places his shoes on the shaft of light. Totally stunned, the three monks stare at the shoes sitting in the shaft of sunlight. They look at the visitor who is walking towards them, unsteady on his feet, a calm smile on his face. Then they quickly step back and prostrate themselves on the floor as the unkempt visitor, none other than Lam Drukpa Kuenley, walks through the door.
By Kinley Dorji, a spiritual son of Chimi Lhakhang, the monastery of Drukpa Kuenley in Punakha.