Who Murdered the Sixth Dalai Lama? Part 3

Part 3 of 6

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III. Dangzang Wangpo

Right: Tsangyang Gyatso, Sixth Dalai Lama. Note how the painter dressed him as a fully ordained monk wearing the yellow hat of the Geluk. In every depiction of him I've seen so far, he is depicted similarly. I.e. the exact opposite of how he saw himself.

What Tsangyang really wanted to do was meet women and sing. Again from Mullin,

His passion no longer was the study of Buddhist scriptures; instead during the days he passed his time in archery and horse riding with friends, and at night he roamed the streets of Lhasa, moving from one tavern to another in search of parties, excitement and beautiful women.1

Behind the Potala Palace is Shol. “Shol” literally translates to “at the base,” as it’s located at the base of Marpo Ri, “the red mountain” on which the Potala sits. This location the Lonely Planet describes as “once Lhasa’s red-light district,” also noting that it was also home to a prison, a printing press, and “some ancillary government buildings.”2 Shol was also host to a lesser-used passage to and from the Potala Palace, ensuring that residents could traverse to and from the village with relative ease, as opposed to going out the south gate and around the Marpo Ri.

Even before he gave back his getshul vows, Tsangyang began spending his time in archery contests. After giving them back, his activities spread to Shol, where he would sing drunken songs, and “wander off on his own,” inviting girls to his tent in the park. Shakabpa refers to Tsangyang Gyatso as “a man-about-town” who soon became known for enjoying the company of women.3 Tsangyang Gyatso became known for not being a monk, dressing often in blue robes, as opposed to monastic burgundy, wearing jewels in his long hair, versus a monk’s tonsure, and going about with an assortment of rings on his fingers.

He also became known by a pseudonym, according to one of his songs,

When I dwell in the Potala I am Rigdzin Tshangyang Gyatsho When I roam in Lhasa and Shol I am the libertine, Dangzang Wangpo.4

Tsangyang Gyatso is, probably, the most well known poet in Tibetan history. His songs are still remembered and sung by Tibetan people around the world with incredible fondness. For example,

Over the eastern hill rises The smiling face of the moon In my mind forms The smiling face of my beloved.5

As we can expect based on his biography, it’s no mystery that most of Tsangyang’s poetry has themes of love, romance, and sex. Some of them, for example, bringing up direct references to liaisons that he was clearly hoping to keep quiet.

The old watchdog called Ja’u Has a mind sharper than a human’s. Don’t tell them: “He left at dusk!” Don’t tell them: “He returned at dawn!”6

I don’t quite know why Shakabpa writes that he was meeting with girls secretly, other than that there’s something to be said about him clearly wanting some measure of privacy. As the poem below shows, not just from barking dogs, but from local gossips:

The garrulous parrot Please stay with your mouth shut The thrush in the willow Has promised to sing a song for me.7

And for anyone that thinks he was just using his position as Dalai Lama to get what he wants, there are examples to show that he was turned down:

Is my dear girl, who’s to me heart to heart, Really born to a wolf, or what? We’ve been rubbing skins day and night on, Yet she runs wild into the mountains yon.8

The comparison of women to animals is certainly not conducive to our modern conceptions of objectification of women’s bodies. It’s good to remember that Tsangyang Gyatso was writing from the point of view of a nomadic9 culture, steeped deeply in mythology, and Tibetan appreciation for sentient beings.10

Over the slippery surface of the frozen depth Let not your stallion trot Towards the charms of a new found lover Let not your secrets scatter.11

There are two surviving manuscripts that include (what are regarded as) complete compendiums of Tsangyang Gyatso’s poems. The shorter of the two includes fifty-nine poems, the version K. Dhondup uses in Songs of the Sixth Dalai Lama, and a seventy-four song version used by W. Tailing in Love Songs of Tsangyang Gyatso.12

Some of Tsangyang’s most famous poems are steeped deeply in Buddhist themes. Aris writes that “As for the true Sixth, he is a different case altogether. He strove against all opposition to be the person he believed himself to be.”13 It would have been very easy for the Sixth to take his full gelong vows, and then proceed to do as he wished. That he did not do that, and instead chose to live as a layman indicates heavily that he was very much devout, albeit in his own way. The poem below describes how he would have regarded those who did choose that kind of rampantly hypocritical path:

Pink clouds Hide frost and hailstorms He who is a half-monk Is a hidden enemy of the dharma.14

Other poems combine his romantic poet’s heart with his interest in religious matters. One of his most famous is,

I incline myself To the teachings of my lama But my heart secretly escapes To the thoughts of my sweetheart.15

And in an almost identical vein,

Even if meditated upon The face of my lama comes not to me But again and again comes to me The smiling face of my beloved.16

Tibet’s other most famous poet, Milarepa, the ascetic whose “hundred thousand songs” launched the Kagyu branch of Buddhism, is famous for being a mass murderer, who expunged his sins and achieved enlightenment in a single lifetime. In the poem below, we see how Tsangyang alludes to this concept,

If I could meditate upon the dharma As intensely as I must on my beloved I would certainly attain enlightenment Surely, in this one life-time.17

Tsangyang Gyatso also inspired a curious architectural fad. It's said that any woman who conceived a child with him painted her house yellow (the Geluk color). Shakabpa writes, “The houses in Lhasa and in Shol have always been whitewashed, except for a few painted yellow. It is a popular saying that those yellow houses once belonged to the courtesans whom the sixth Dalai Lama favored.”18 And from Mullin, “Until recently most houses in Shol were painted with a yellow trim. According to popular tradition, after the Sixth died every maiden in Lhasa who had slept with him painted the family house yellow in his honor. Sales in yellow paint skyrocketed that year.”19

Above: Makye Ame, a restaurant you can visit today in Lhasa that claims to have once been home to Tsangyang Gyatso, and whose website, tibettravelexpert.com theorizes might have been a place where he met lovers and wrote poems. Image Copyright: tibettravel.org.

It’s reasonable to think it was actually a fad that got a little out of hand. Tibetan culture is more forgiving of bastardy than most, but there are examples where it depends on one’s status in society. And there are circumstances where a young woman might have tried to alleviate her parents’ anger by saying her pregnancy was by none other than the Sixth Dalai Lama.

Allegedly, in Lhasa’s old town there are still some buildings where a hint of yellow walls can be seen. W. Tailing includes a picture in their book on Tsangyang’s poetry that includes a photo of a Lhasa Restaurant on Bharkor Street painted yellow. And that “the houses where Tsangyang Gyatso had set foot were kept yellow washed.” The Restaurant in the picture claims to be on the site of one of Tsangyang’s favorite haunts, and goes by the name Makye Ama, or in English “lover.”20

Interpretations of Tsangyang’s behavior varies wildly. The current Fourteenth Dalai Lama Tenzin Gyatso (b.1935) thinks his predecessor's earthly goal might have been to begin a hereditary lineage of Tibetan Kings,

My own feeling is that he had a master plan. He had decided that the system of reincarnation was too cumbersome for his position as head of the nation. I think he realized that the period between the death of one Dalai Lama and the maturity of the next posed too many dangers to the stability of the nation. Consequently, he decided to follow the tradition of the early Sakya lamas,21 who maintained a tradition of succession by heredity. […] Unfortunately for him his master plan failed. Perhaps Tibetans and their disciple Mongolians were not ready for it, and wanted a system with a monk at the helm. In any case, it led to his removal from office, and perhaps even to his death.22

He later reiterated his belief to Thomas Laird that about the failure of the Sixth’s “master plan.”

“You say that at this point the master plan for Tibet failed,” I remarked. “When you say this, you mean the evolution of religious and political power that led to the Fifth Dalai Lama, who planned for the Sixth to father a hereditary kingship."

“That is what I mean. But it is pure speculation,” the Dalai Lama responded.

“Speculation?” I asked. “Isn’t this your historical analysis?”

“Yes,” he said, “both historical, personal analysis and spiritual. A mixture.”23

Another Lama, the Venerable Geshey Ngawang Dargyey (1921-1995) tells a mystical tale that contributes to this understanding of the Sixth’s attempt to bring about a “mystical monarchy,”

Here it is said that the Sixth had been prophesied to marry and produce an heir who would become something of a King Arthur in Central Asia. Had the merits of the world remained sufficiently strong, the prophecy would have been fulfilled. This prince would have united Tibet, the Mongol tribes, and Manchu China under his enlightened leadership, and from there brought all the known world under the umbrella of his rule. In short he would have become a chakravartin, or universal emperor, and ushered in a golden age that would have endured for a thousand years.

However, a number of conditions had to be met in order for this destiny to emerge. In the words of Buddhist scripture, two things in particular had to happen: an increase in the world’s merit, and the mitigation of the world’s collective negative karma.

Unfortunately, the opposite occurred in these two spheres. Rather than increase their merits, the people just burned them up in superficialities. Similarly, rather than purify negative karma at this critical juncture in human history, people just increased it. This was not only true in Tibet, but all over the world.

Consequently the universe of prophecy shifted on its axis. The shift meant that rather than produce a son who would usher in a thousand years of enlightenment, peace, and prosperity, he would instead produce one who would become power hungry, and usher in an age of tyranny.

The Sixth felt the shift one night while on his way to meet with the lover who was destined to produce that son. He knew that conditions had changed from the very root, and that Plan A had failed. He therefore resorted to Plan B. Turning on his heels, he walked home and spent the night alone.24

It is important to note here that the Tibetan view of history frequently sees fit to accommodate both the mystical view of Ven. Dhargyey and that of Michael Aris. The Dalai Lama tried explaining this Tibetan view of history to Thomas Laird about how mystic and objective history can exist side-by-side, “For these people there are two levels of meaning, of understanding, two different levels of reality, about their lives. But that does not mean for the whole history there are two levels. But at any rate, today the conventional is more important.”25

There’s one particular tale that highlights his tantric powers, pointing to the fulfillment of complete control over his bodily and spiritual energies:

Consequently many street stories emerged about his behavior. One, for example, has him returning to the Potala late at night, rather drunk and after a major session of sex with the ladies, when he is confronted by some government officials who chastise him for his behavior. According to the story, he just laughs and pulls out his penis. It instantly becomes erect, and he ejaculates. However, to demonstrate his tantric power he then uses his meditation to reverse the direction of the ejaculating droplets of sperm, thus drawing them back to the tip of his penis and into his body.

He then exclaims something along the lines of, “An ordinary person can fuck and a tantric yogi can fuck, but let’s not pretend that it’s the same thing.”26

Aris’ words about Tsangyang trying to live authentically as himself, devoid of the pressures a restrictive culture (and political situation) seems to resonate today among Tibetans, who both revere him as the Dalai Lama (the position he tried to leave behind) but also as a romantic (the free spirit he truly was). So much of his poetry reflects the romantic spirit that is so hard to deny:

In my dreams often I see my lost beloved A soothsayer I must seek To search for her soon for me.27

The arrow has hit the target Its point has cut into the earth I have met my beloved My heart follows her, all by itself.28

In the short walk of this life We have had our shares of joy Let us hope to meet again In the youth of our next life.29

Next: Part 4 of 6. Dalai Lama Unleashed

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Footnotes

1. ibid. p. 255.

2. Lonely Planet et al. 2011. p. 55. Even I had written prior to this that Shol was “what we might refer to today as a ‘party town.’” Yet I have no current primary source data for this reputation. Was Tsangyang Gyatso drawn there because of its reputation, or did it earn its reputation from Tsangyang Gyatso’s exploits? It’s difficult to say as most references to Shol seem tied up in the story of Tsangyang Gyatso. Given that Shol was “behind” the Potala, it seems likely that at least being symbolically “out of sight” had an influence on the district’s reputation. (Notably, Shakabpa refers to Shol as being “a small village in front of the Potala,” p. 129. Mullin refers to it as “behind,” p. 255.) It’s location on the south side, with a lot of trade coming that direction also might have influenced its commercial activity. This is speculation, of course, but has plenty of precedence. The great T’ang Dynasty capital Chang’an (Xi’an) had an Eastern and a Western market on opposite sides of the city, representative of both their geographic locations, and also roughly the origins of the merchants who set up shop there. It’s possible that Lhasa might have had a similar set up. And with long-range Silk Route-based trade would come a mildly seedier element. Plus having access to a less-used (probably not a “secret”) passage to the Potala would also ensure that a steady supply of wealth (and a high level of discretion) flowed into the district.

3. Shakabpa 1967. p. 129. He also writes that these girls were brought to his tent “secretly.” How or why would require further investigation, as they clearly did not remain secret for long.

4. Dhondup 1981. p. 149. There are many translations for the name “Dangzang Wangpo,” with Shakabpa translating this line in the poem as “he is a gay young blade,” (and as implied by his pronoun use, implies the poem is in third person). Other translators make use of other diction: “fornicator” makes its way into Aris’ (p. 157.), “the Profligate/ for my loves are many” is the expression used in Norbu’s (Norbu/Turnbull 1968. p. 279.), “the sexiest blade e’er lived so” into Tailing’s (2009. p. 78.), and “screwer” in Williams’ (p. 114.).

5. Dhondup 1981. p. 55.

6. Aris 1988. p. 158.

7. Dhondup 1981. p. 167.

8. Tailing 2009. p. 60.

9. Or semi-nomadic as many prefer to refer to historical Tibetan culture.

10. While I do not want to overstate (or indeed glamorize, as is very common in a lot of modern writings about Tibetans) Tibetan culture’s general appreciation for life, we are still referring to a historical culture and life that was very hard and often brutal, there is clearly some truth to how Tibetans have seen their place in the universe as, yes, above animals, and yet, they never seem to have forgotten their place in society. Barbara Demick writes in Eat the Buddha how the Tibetans she spoke to about the Battle of Ngaba in 1958 always seemed to enumerate the number of horses lost in combat along with the number of human beings. “They were slaughtered. In one day, fifty-nine men and one-hundred horses were killed.” (Demick 2021. Chapter 22.)

11. Dhondup 1981. p. 123

12. The seventy-four song manuscript seems to be slightly more suspect than the previous one, including more poems usually regarded as not coming from Tsangyang’s hand.

13. Aris 1988. p. 5. “True” Sixth as opposed to his later impersonator, Ngawang Chodrak Gyamtso.

14. Dhondup 1981. p. 121. Tailing includes a note specifying that the Tibetan text “half-monk” specifically references monks with robes half-yellow and half-white, indicating that they are neither monks nor laymen, specifying that they are monks who broke their vows of celibacy. (p. 64.fn.)

15. Dhondup 1981. p. 85.

16. Dhondup 1981. p. 87.

17. Dhondup 1981. p. 89.

18. Shakabpa 1967. p. 131.

19. Mullin 2001. p.255-6.

20. Tailing 2009. p. 115. The term ma kye a ma is sometimes found as a literal name of one of Tsangyang’s girlfriends. The literal translation is “not born mother,” while Tailing translates it as “The woman to whom I’m not born.” Losang Thonden writes, “unborn mother (beloved)” in the first volume of his book on Tibetan language. (1980. p. 103.) Others have informed me that this term can be used for any woman not one’s biological mother, but who one reveres. Another Tibetan interpreted this term in one of Tsangyang’s poems as referring to one’s mother in a future life that hasn’t happened yet.

21. Or more likely, the Nyingma lamas of his father’s lineage. Had Tsangyang Gyatso never been recognized as Lobsang Gyatso’s reincarnate, he probably would have inherited his father’s temple and role in Tawang.

22. Mullin 2001. p. 270

23. Laird 2007. Chapter 9.

24. Mullin 2001. p. 271.

25. Laird 2007. Chapter 3: The Tibetan Empire and the Spread of Buddhism in Tibet, 650-820. In this passage, the Dalai Lama and Laird are discussing Padmasambhava, the tantric master who bound demons and exorcised evil from Tibet, priming it to receive Buddhism. He then goes on to explain (albeit a bit clunkily) by comparing the situation with that of Jesus Christ in the west:

“Look,” [the Dalai Lama] said. “I understand that it is difficult to accept for Americans. However, for us as Buddhists, depending on our level of experience and belief, there are no difficulties for us to explain the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We can easily accept this because of the fact that we accept that there are these two levels. From a Buddhist viewpoint there are no difficulties to accept the resurrection of Jesus Christ at the second level.”

Suddenly much of what I had been arguing with him about, the fact that Padmasambhava did not seem like a historical figure to me, changed. I was stunned.

“But few modern Christians would give you the same latitude,” I said, “when they look at the miraculous events surrounding Padmasambhava, which you say happened mostly at the second level.”

“Yes, that is true,” the Dalai Lama replied. “But that is a matter of opinion. The underlying belief is the same.”

In other words, the Dalai Lama, as he explains in this view of history, is that there is a debate in the West regarding whether Jesus Christ rose from the dead after his crucifixion. The Dalai Lama says that Tibetan historians have no problem believing in two levels of history: that at the conventional level (kun rdzob) all that is available to us is physical reality (in this example, that Christ or Padmasambhava died). But at the ultimate level (don dam) a higher truth is available to those more realized (that Christ was resurrected, or that Padmasambhava never died).

It is useful to understand these stories of the Tsangyang Gyatso with this lens of history, as Tibetans might understand him.

26. Mullin 2001. p. 268. Yes, Mullin’s original wording. I’ve heard this story before, however, and it seems to be highlighted as more of a Nyingma tale than a Geluk one.

27. Dhondup 1981. p. 109.

28. Dhondup 1981. p. 157.

29. Dhondup 1981. p. 165.