Philosophy and Religion / Tibet's Great Yogi Milarepa

Tibet's Great Yogi Milarepa

Chapter II. The Tasting of Sorrow

Telling of the Death and Last Will of Milarepa's Father; the Misappropriation of the Estate by the Paternal Uncle and Aunt; and the Resulting Sorrows which Milarepa and his Mother and Sister endured.

Again Rechung spoke, and said: 'O Teacher, be pleased to relate the details of thy sufferings, and of the troubles that followed the death of thy father.'

Jetsün then continued : 'When I had about reached the age of seven, my father, Mila-Sherab-Gyaltsen, was seized with a very serious illness. Physicians and lāmas attendant upon him alike offered no hope of his recovery, but announced his approaching end. All his relatives were also aware that he was dying, and even the patient himself despaired of living and resigned himself to death. Mine uncle and aunt, other kinsfolk and friends, and all the neighbours gathered together, and, in the presence of all, my father made known his last wishes, entrusting the care of his widow and orphans to mine uncle and aunt, as also the management of his entire estate. Finally, he had a written testament made out, and had it read, signed, and sealed in the presence of all assembled.

'Then he spoke as follows: “I well perceive that I shall not survive this illness. My son being at present of tender years, I confide him to the care of all my relatives, especially his uncle and aunt. All my possessions, including my herds of cattle, sheep, and ponies on the pastures high up in the hills; my fields, including 'Worma Triangle’, and several smaller fields; my cows, goats, and donkeys here below the house; my household utensils of gold, silver, copper, and iron; my personal ornaments and wardrobe; my turquoises, silks, and garments; my granaries, and, in short, all those my possessions, regarding which I need not bear envy towards others, I leave behind me. Out of these let a portion be spent upon my funeral ceremonies. As regardeth the remainder, I entrust the care of them to all of you [who are here gathered together], until such time as my son is of age to look after everything for himself. But chiefly I entrust this property to the care of my child’s uncle and aunt. When my son cometh to be of age, Zesay having been betrothed to him in infancy, let the pair be married; and when the bride hath been received into the house, let the twain be put in charge of the entire property, and let them manage the household by themselves, following in the footsteps of their parents. But until my son attaineth mature age I entrust everything to you, all my relatives, but chiefly to you two, my children’s uncle and aunt. See that they come to no harm! Be sure that I will watch you from the realm of the dead!” Saying this, my father expired.

'When my father’s funeral ceremonies had been completed, all the relatives said, “Let White Garland of the Nyang herself be given the charge of the whole property, and let each of us from time to time render her such help and assistance as she may stand in need of, to the best of our ability.”

'But mine uncle and aunt said, “Ye can all say what ye please, but we are the nearest relatives, and we will see to it ourselves that the widow and the orphans do not suffer. As for the property, we will take care of it.” And despite all that my maternal uncle and the father of Zesay might say, my father’s personal property was then divided between mine uncle and aunt thus: mine uncle took all the men’s ornaments and raiment, while mine aunt took all the female appurtenances; the remainder of the property was divided equally between them, and we were bidden to go and live with each of them by turn. And thus we were deprived of all rights over our property, and not only that, but compelled in summer to work as field-labourers for mine uncle, and in winter as spinners and carders of wool for mine aunt. The food given us was so coarse that it was fit only for dogs. Our clothing was miserable rags tied to our bodies with a rope for girdle. Compelled to work without respite, our hands and feet became cracked and blistered. The insufficiency and coarseness of our food made us miserably emaciated and haggard. Our hair, once adorned with gold and turquoises, now became hard and stiff, and infested with lice.

'Tender-hearted folk who had known us in the days of our prosperity could not withhold their tears at the sight of us. Whispered talk about the villainous conduct of mine uncle and aunt ran through the whole neighbourhood, but they paid no attention to it. My mother, my sister, and myself were reduced to such a state of misery that my mother used to say of my aunt, “She is not Khyung-tsa-Palden (Demonstrator of the Nobility of the Descendants of the Eagles), but a Dumo-Takden (a Demoness who showeth the nature of the tigress),” and thenceforth mine aunt was known by the nickname of “Tiger-Demon”. My mother also used to say that the proverb, “Entrust the ownership to others and have thyself turned into the dog that guardeth the door”, had been proved true in our case. “For see,” she said, “while thy father Mila-Sherab-Gyaltsen was alive, every one used, to watch our faces to see if we smiled or frowned. But now, they who own the wealth becoming as it were the kings, all now regard the smiles and frowns of our uncle and aunt.” My mother also came in for a share of the compliments whispered about, and people said “ 'Rich husband, able wife! Soft wool, fine blanket!’ How true this saying is in this instance. See what happeneth when a clever man is no longer to the fore. Formerly, when her husband was living, White Garland of the Nyang used to be called the model housewife because of her energy and ability; her hand used to be called nourishing. But now her energy and ability have been put to the test, and her weakness is exposed.” Thus the more we suffered, the more unpleasant were the things said about us, and the common folk, our former inferiors, missed no opportunity of decrying us behind our back.

'Zesay’s parents used to provide me with a piece of cloth or a pair of shoes from time to time. They also used to say to me, “As long as men themselves are not turned into property, property is not stable; it is like the dew on the blades of the grass. So thou needest not mourn too much the loss of thy wealth. Thy parents and ancestors acquired wealth by their own exertions and industry. They were not always wealthy, but only acquired wealth latterly. And a time will come when thou also wilt earn wealth thyself.” In this way they often consoled me.

'About my fifteenth year, my mother possessed a small field of her own called “Tepe-Tenchung (Little Famine Carpet)” which, though bearing a not very auspicious name, yielded a very fair crop of grain. This field was cultivated by my maternal uncle, and its yield stored away. With part of it he bought stores of meat, while the brown barley was brewed into chhang¹ and the white ground into flour.

'Now the news was spread abroad that White Garland of the Nyang and her children were going to give a feast with a view to recovering their patrimony. Many carpets were borrowed from all sides, and spread on the floor of our large house. To the feast were invited all our neighbours, more especially those who had been present at my father’s decease and knew about his will, and all our relatives headed by our uncle and aunt. One whole sheep each was given to mine uncle and aunt, and the other guests were treated to quarters, legs, chops, and ribs, according to their position and the degree of their relationship to us. Chhang was served in brimming cups, and the feast began.

'Then my mother stood up in the midst of the assembly and spoke as follows: “I beg the honourable company here assembled to give me leave to explain why they have been invited to be present on this occasion, for, as the saying goeth, 'The birth of a son maketh necessary a naming ceremony; and the offer of chhang, a talk.’ So I have a few words to say touching the last wishes of my deceased husband, Mila-Sherab- Gyaltsen, the father of these children, - a matter known to all of you, the elders of the place, headed by their uncle and aunt. So please listen to the will which I am now going to have read.” Thereupon my maternal uncle proceeded to read the will aloud to the company. When he had finished, my mother again spoke, saying, “All here present are aware of the oral testament uttered in their presence by my late husband, so I shall not weary them with a repetition of it. To come to the point, we [mother and children] are deeply grateful for all that we owe to our uncle and aunt, and for all their care in looking after us up to the present moment. But now that my son is able to manage a house for himself, I request that the property be restored to our care. I also ask you all to see that he be married to Zesay, and that she be duly installed in their joint home, in accordance with the wishes of my late husband.”

'Upon my mother saying this, mine uncle and aunt, although at variance on all other matters, here united forces, since they had jointly misappropriated my patrimony to their own use. Moreover, I was an only son, while mine uncle had several sons. Mine uncle and aunt, thus in agreement in a scheme to defraud us, replied: “Where is this property ye are talking about ? When Mila-Sherab-Gyaltsen was alive, he borrowed these houses, fields, cattle, ponies, gold, and silver. They all were ours, he restoring them to us only when at the point of death. This was only the restoration of the property to its rightful owners. Where did ye ever have a particle of wealth, a measure of barley, a roll of butter, a piece of cloth, or even a living head of cattle of your own? We never saw any. And now ye have the audacity to say a thing like this! Who wrote that will of yours? Ye ought to be thankful we did not leave miserable creatures like you to perish of starvation. Indeed the saying, ‘Rather try to measure a running stream with a quart measure, than to oblige wicked people’ would seem to apply to you.”

'Sneering at us, they rose abruptly from their seats, shook their garments, and, stamping the heels of their shoes on the floor, said, “If it really cometh to that, this very house we are in is ours. Out with you, ye ungrateful orphans, out with you!” With that, they slapped my mother, my sister, and myself in the face with the ends of their long sleeves.² And all my mother could say, was, “O Mila-Sherab-Gyaltsen! look at the treatment we have to endure, thou who didst say, 'I will watch over you from the realm of the dead!’ Now, if thou canst, surely is the time to do so.” And falling down in a fit of hysterical weeping she swooned away. I and my sister could render no aid other than weeping.

'My maternal uncle, seeing that mine other uncle had many sons, did not dare to fight him. The other neighbours who were kindly disposed towards us added their tears to my mother’s, saying, “Poor widow! Poor orphans!” Many were sobbing, and few there were who did not shed tears.

'Mine uncle and aunt continued: “Ye are asking for wealth from us, but ye seem to have quite a lot yourselves, since ye have been able to invite all your neighbours and friends to such a grand feast. Ye need not ask for anything from us, for we have not got any of your wealth, say what ye like. And even if we have, we are not going to restore it. Do your worst, ye wretched orphans! If ye feel yourselves strong enough in numbers, fight us! If ye think yourselves too few, curse us!”

'Having said this, they went out. Those who sided with them followed next, mother still weeping, until our maternal uncle and Zesay’s folk, with a few others who sided with us, alone remained behind to console my mother. These continued drinking what was left of the chhang, saying, “Oh, do not weep! It is of no avail.” They proposed that a subscription be raised from all who had been at the dinner, offering themselves to give their share, and that our paternal uncle and aunt should again be appealed to with the confident expectation of their making at least a decent contribution. With the sum so raised it was proposed that I should be sent away to be educated. My maternal uncle said to my mother: “Yes, yes, let us do that, and send the boy away to learn something. As for thyself and thy daughter, ye may come and live with me while ye cultivate your fields by your own labour. We must do our best to put to shame that uncle and aunt.”

But my mother said, “Since we are not to get back our own property, I do not consider it possible to bring up my children by means of wealth obtained in charity from others. Besides, there is not the least probability of their uncle and aunt ever restoring to us even a portion of our property. As for my son, he must, of course, be educated. After this refusal of the uncle and aunt to restore to us our own, they will do their utmost to expose us to shame should we again submit ourselves to them. They will ill-treat us worse than ever; and we should be like a drum on its stand or smoke in flight.³ We shall remain here and work our field.”

Accordingly, I was sent to a place in Tsa, called Mithong-gat- kha (The Invisible Knoll), and there put under the tuition of a lāma of the Red Sect called Lu-gyat-khan (Eight Serpents), a very popular teacher of the place.

During this period, our relatives seem to have contributed some pecuniary aid towards our support. Zesay’s parents, especially, were very kind; from time to time they sent us flour and butter, and even fuel; and often let Zesay herself come to the place where I was studying, to console me. My maternal uncle supplied my mother and sister with food so that they were not forced to beg nor to serve others, and he used to have the wool for spinning and weaving brought to his house to save my mother going from door to door to ask for it. Thus he greatly assisted us to make a living and earn a little money. My sister, on her part, doing such tasks as others gave her, by dint of hard work managed somehow to take care of herself [so far as having money to spend was concerned]. But, in spite of everything, we got only coarse food, and had to content ourselves with ragged clothes. All this caused me much grief; at that time, not the least joy whatsoever did I ever know.’

As the narrative ceased, all those listening were, without exception, deeply moved with sorrow and distress. Tears trickled down their cheeks, and for a while all were silent.

This is the account of that part of his life in which Jetsün had actual experience of the existence of sorrow.

Footnotes

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