A Glimpse of the Light
In this account, adapted from the 1989 Aid For India/Karuna Trust Newsletter, Manjusvara describes his first visit to a unique and magical school.
At last I was there! The cheerful yellow and red Tibetan gateway old me that I had arrived at Dhardo Rimpoche's Indo-Tibetan Buddhist Cultural Institute School for Tibetan refugees. White prayer-flags fluttered in the gentle breeze. Stretching beyond the school buildings, away from the noise and clutter of Kalimpong, were the rolling foothills and deep valleys, the last throws of the great Himalayas.
Dhardo Rimpoche once said, If you are not sure what to do next in your life, then do something for other people.
His own life illustrated this maxim perfectly. Although a prestigious lama, he left his monastery in Bodh-Gaya in 1954 and settled in Kalimpong to do what he could to help the Tibetan refugees who were then pouring across the Indian border in flight from the Chinese invasion. He devoted the rest of life to the school he founded on an uneven patch of ground on the edge of town.
It was here that he and Sangharakshita became good friends. Sangharakshita spent fourteen years in Kalimpong, teaching and writing at his Triyana Vardhana Vihara. Dhardo Rimpoche gave him a number of Tantric initiations, and also gave him the Bodhisattva ordination. Ever since Lokamitra and Surata paid a visit in 1977, many members and Friends of the Western Buddhist Order had been including a pilgrimage to the ITBCI school as an essential element in their travels around India-partly out of interest, but largely out of gratitude for the debt they felt they owed its extraordinary founder-director. On one such visit, in 1982, Nagabodhi made the alarming discovery that the school was entirely dependent upon what were at that time the entirely random and occasional donations being made by members of the FWBO.
I first came to know about the ITBCI School in 1985, when I was part of an Aid For India (now Karuna Trust) appeal team committed to raising the funds that would save the school from closure. For two months we ‘worked’ the streets of London doing our best to explain why we thought the school was worth saving.
In order to gain government support, all Tibetan refugee schools must teach the standard Indian curriculum. This is fair enough, so far as it goes, but it takes no account of the students’ own unique cultural heritage and needs. At the expense of his school’s eligibility for grants, Dhardo Rimpoche decided to give his pupils something more: a modern secular education plus a thorough grounding in traditional Tibetan studies and culture. They would learn to read and write in Tibetan, play Tibetan music on Tibetan instruments, dance in Tibetan costumes they made by themselves, develop an appreciation of their religion, and form an appreciation of their own folklore. Through his five- to fifteen-year-old pupils, Dhardo hoped to preserve the seeds of a threatened culture. While saving the children from all the ill-effects of cultural alienation, he would also be preserving something of the grass-roots culture of a land whose gifts to the world had hardly been acknowledged, and certainly not yet explored.
Clearly the formula was a successful one. Nobody who had visited the school had failed to notice the extraordinarily happy atmosphere of the place. Although the children came from poor families, and had little in the way of facilities-no proper play area, little equipment, too few rooms to accommodate all the classes — they rushed about the place filling the air with laughter and happiness. And it was also clear that they loved their headmaster!
Dhardo Rimpoche was even smaller than I had expected, perhaps no more than five feet tall. Although seventy-four and occasionally troubled with ill health, he conveyed a sense of deep strength. His mind seemed agile and fresh. Before he spoke he would screw up his eyes in concentration as if lost for words, although, really, he was reflecting carefully upon my questions. More than anything his answers displayed the deepest concern and compassion for the world about him. Being with him, I realized, was like being gently wrapped in a warm cloak of kindness.
The school’s 200 children come from Kalimpong itself, as well as from further afield. Most are Tibetans, but some are Sherpas who also speak the Tibetan language. Because Kalimpong is close to Tibet, the school is able to help any refugees who still occasionally cross the border into India. Ex-pupils have gone on to study and work in places as far away as Japan and Switzerland.
What, I wondered, could Tibetan culture teach the world at large? I particularly feel it can teach nonviolence and compassion,
Dhardo explained, It is very important that we teach these things to children. If, for example, you see small children playing with insects, tearing their wings or hitting them with sticks, you must explain that this is hurting the insects. They should learn that they don’t have to hurt insects in order to enjoy themselves in the playground. It makes me very sad to read in newspapers and magazines that so many people in the West are turning to drugs as a means of escape. They must feel a great emptiness in their hearts that they should try and fill them in this way.
He continued: People feel that life is short. Because of this, instead of working for others, they just try to acquire wealth for themselves. But if we live in this way we become isolated. Our lives become like bubbles on the surface of the water. But people can be inspired by action. If they see that something is happening they start to give.
Dhardo explained how he had started the school with virtually nothing. Things had built up very gradually indeed. People would give a few rupees, allowing him to buy some paper or pencils. Then, when they saw that he was doing something useful with their money, they helped the school to grow: If you work hard in the right way it will spread like light.
The light of Dhardo’s work had obviously spread very effectively indeed. Our Aid For India appeals brought in enough money to pay for the erection of two major buildings, housing classrooms, boarding facilities, and staff quarters. The school’s running costs — which included enough funds to guarantee good wages for a full complement of staff — would be met out of a lump sum invested for the purpose. The school was now safe.
After all his years of experience with children, would he have any advice to give to parents of children in the West?
Yes. They should teach their children that actions have consequences. And they should teach them to respect their elders.... We should always respect our first teacher, the person who taught us our ABC and 123, for this person gave us our entry into all the richness and beauty of human culture.’
In the balmy night air I stood in the courtyard with Jampel Khalden, the school’s secretary and eventual successor to Dhardo Rimpoche as director. Jampel has been with Dhardo Rimpoche since 1956, when he and his younger brother fled Tibet. In his will Dhardo Rimpoche has described Jampel as his beloved adopted son
. We were looking at the new block of classrooms and dormitories that Aid For India’s support was making possible. When complete these structures would mean that every class would have its own room. Also, the girls boarding at the school would have good, draught-free accommodation. As we spoke, Jampel kept a proud but rigorous eye on the building’s progress, making sure that the builders’ work was up to standard. He had participated in the design and execution of the beautiful traditional sculptures which would soon decorate the new building, reminding the children of the ancient traditions.
From time to time I noticed the yellow beam of a flashlight dancing off the interior walls. Suddenly the shadowy image of Dhardo Rimpoche appeared, stepping carefully between the builders’ materials. As he peered at each new detail of the day’s work he made faint murmuring sounds of approval. According to Jampel, Rimpoche made this little inspection each evening after dinner. My heart filled with delight to think that we had been able to help this wonderful man, who had devoted his life to the welfare of others.
Reprinted from Golden Drum 17.