TWO CENTURIES AGO, during the regency period between the 7th and 8thDalai Lama, the powerful caretaker of the Dalai throne issued an orderbanishing the 10th Shamarpa from Tibet. Shamar tulku was publicly accusedof fomenting a Nepali invasion of his country. All the titles bestowedupon him by the Manchu Emperors were revoked, and his Kagyu monasterieswere raided by the government army and forcibly converted to the Gelugpatradition. Shamarpa's ceremonial Red Crown was confiscated and supposedlyburied under a building in Lhasa. The 13th Dalai Lama was rumored to haveoffered it to Nicolas II, the last Tsar of Russia, more than a centurylater. However, the crown has not been seen or recovered by its owner tothis day. Finally, an edict strictly forbidding Shamarpa's future reincarnation-arather bizarre concept to a Western mind-was officially invoked. The foremostdisciple of the successive Gyalwa Karmapas and second in rank in the spiritualhierarchy of the Kagyu lineage, Shamarpa had been reincarnating at theside of his teacher for centuries. When the 5th Dalai Lama and the Gelughierarchy took power in 1638, Shamar tulku, together with Karmapa, becamethe object of official curbs and hardships. A hundred years later, dueto the notable activity of the 8th Tai Situ, another of Karmapa's closedisciples, the Kagyu lineage experienced a revival in distant Kham. Faraway from the inquisitive gaze of government ministers and under the protectionof a local king, Palpung, Tai Situ's monastery, in the east of the country,flourished. A master of logic and brother to the then Panchen Lama-secondwithin the Gelugpa pecking order-Shamar tulku was determined to replicatein central Tibet the success Tai Situ had accomplished in Kham. However,operating from Yangbar Chen, his main seat only a day's journey from Lhasa,Shamarpa had little freedom to maneuver. To achieve his ambitious goal,he teamed up with his brother. The Panchen, who himself bore a resentmentagainst the Gelug politicians for not being allowed on Tibet's throne,was a perfect ally. Ever since the Chinese emperor had bestowed a rotatingmonarchy upon the 5th Dalai Lama and his kingdom, the Panchen's succeedingincarnations had been waiting in vain to assume the reins of command inTibet. The powers-that-be in the capital observed the new allegiance withdue apprehension. The second-in-charge of the Kagyus clubbing togetherwith a suitor to the throne was a direct challenge to the Gelug rule. Andso, when the two brothers made contact with the Raj in India and hosteda British delegation in Tashi Lhunpo, Panchen's main monastery south ofLhasa, the government decided to act. The Panchen Lama was dispatched witha mission to Peking where he mysteriously passed away. Deprived of hisbrother's protection, Shamarpa fled to Nepal and was immediately accusedof plotting against his country. And even though he mediated in the disputebetween Nepal and Tibet, his days as a prominent tulku were numbered. Whenfighting between the two Himalayan nations broke out, Tenpai Goenpo, aninfluential Gelugpa minister, saw an ideal opportunity to permanently ridthe government and the "yellow-hat" school of a dangerous rival.Shamar tulku was publicly blamed for Tibet's painful setback in the militaryconfrontation and proclaimed a traitor. Soon after he was officially prohibitedto incarnate. His monasteries were taken over, and his closest assistantswere tortured and killed. A victim of political intrigue, Shamarpa keptreincarnating secretly for the next two hundred years under the protectivewatch of Karmapa. The mantras spoken against his rebirth were having littleeffect. However, the proclamation banning him from the public eye was strictlyenforced. The central government, guarding its political supremacy, madesure that no Shamar tulkus were formally recognized. "Black was becomingwhite; the real was becoming unreal. At that time it was not practicableto have any Shamarpas recognized or enthroned. Everything was kept secret.The incarnations appeared but were not revealed." Such was the 16thKarmapa's comment on those difficult days.

From the turn of the 20th century, dark clouds started to gather onthe Tibetan horizon. After the decadent Manchu dynasty was swept from powerin the Middle Kingdom in 1911 and an experiment with a republic gave wayto a humiliating defeat dealt by the Japanese, a much more ruthless andrepressive regime grabbed power in China in 1949. The victorious Communists,new masters in Peking, had one thing in common with their predecessors:a deep conviction that Tibet was an integral part of China. They had, though,fewer scruples and more formidable and fanatical manpower to accomplishPeking's centuries-old dream: the forced union of Tibet with the motherland.The dynamic personality of Thubten Gyatso, the 13th Dalai Lama, managedto uphold, against all odds, Tibet's sovereignty. Insistent on keepingChina at bay, the 13th Dalai extended a cooperating hand to the Kagyusand the other lineages, and, after centuries of exclusion, the 15th Karmapawas welcomed in Lhasa as a partner and a friend. For the sake of nationalunity, the harsh laws targeting the rival schools were relaxed. Shamartulku also benefited from the new political climate. Even though the infamousban against his rebirth was not lifted, he was being tolerated at Karmapa'sside during the 13th Dalai Lama's tenure. However, not everyone approvedof such leniency. The ultraconservative factions representing Lhasa's threegigantic Gelugpa monasteries saw little wisdom in treating the other lineagesas equals and consistently undermined the Dalai Lama's efforts to securea common Tibetan front. During the regency that followed Thubten Gyatso'sdeath in 1933 and before Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama, came of age,the country lacked such a strong hand to grapple with the forces pullingTibet into the contemporary world. Political reform was not carried out.The country, weak and militarily inept, did not attempt to found even aremotely modern fighting force nor did it seek international guarantees.The blind faith in their dharmapalas, those Buddhist transformations ofthe old gods of India and Tibet who, when ritually invoked, would standfor the holy kingdom in times of danger, was deemed sufficient protectionagainst an aggressor. The Communist Chinese build-up in 1950 on their easternfrontier remained then of little concern to the central Tibetan government,and signs of the approaching tragedy were largely ignored. Instead, thesectarian rule in Lhasa was once again occupied with imposing its hegemonyover the other three Buddhist schools. On top of all the adversity, theHimalayan theocracy was virtually unknown outside the Sino-Mongol-Indiantriangle. The free world powers had little stomach for confronting Chinaover some remote, forsaken region. Such lack of resolve played into Beijing'shands and made Tibet a much easier prey. But even if by some last minuteeffort the Tibetan government had shaken off its petty rivalries and amasseda national resistance, this would have certainly been no match for thePeoples Liberation Army. The sheer size of the aggressor would have beensimply overpowering. In typical Tibetan fashion, though, a civic awakeningdid not materialize, and, in its last years, rather than witnessing a callto arms, the Land of Snows saw only endless feuds and eventually treason.When, in October 1950, the Communist Chinese attacked eastern Tibet andsubsequently infiltrated and took over the rest of the kingdom, they caughtthe Tibetans off guard. Unable or unwilling to put up a common front againstthe aggressor, the Tibetan government remained conspicuously passive. Theonly ones ready to fight-the Khampas-needed weapons, which the powers-that-bewould not provide. Instead, the armories in Chamdo, in the east of thecountry, were blown up on orders from the government official and traitor,Ngaboe. Offering no opposition to the rapidly advancing Chinese troops,Ngaboe made sure that the resistance fighters in the east were left withoutarms. And so, abandoned by Lhasa, deprived of military leadership, andlacking a capable fighting force, Kham fell to the Communists in a matterof weeks. Following their disastrous performance in 1950, in May 1951,the Tibetan government, under the authority of the sixteen-year-old 14thDalai Lama, signed the controversial Seventeen Point Agreement in whichTibet formally accepted Chinese sovereignty, albeit with local autonomy.When, in 1959, the people in Lhasa finally arose against the Chinese Army,they could no longer reverse by fighting what the politicians gave awayon paper. The desperate revolt was brutally crushed, and Tibet vanishedfrom the political map of the world; the Communists were free to initiatetheir genocide of the Tibetan nation. The young Dalai Lama and his closecircle of attendants fled at the last moment, the Chinese troops occupyingthe capital. His departure set off a mass exodus of lamas and monks acrossthe Himalayas. The 16th Karmapa, with more foresight, had prepared hispeople for the exit years before and arrived, as planned, with his fourclosest disciples and other incarnates in the eastern Himalayan kingdomof Bhutan. Once in India, representatives of the four schools suddenlyfound themselves on equal footing. The power of the Gelugpas and the dominanceof the central Tibetan government had vanished overnight. Past feuds paledin comparison with the magnitude of the present catastrophe. The fortunatelamas who had managed to survive the ordeal of the Chinese invasion andthe anguish of crossing the Himalayas on foot in winter were now confrontedwith the enormous task of rebuilding in exile what they could salvage fromdestruction in Tibet. Influenced by his friendship with the 16th Karmapaand realizing that cooperation was now essential, the 14th Dalai Lama agreedto overrule the two-hundred-year-old ban. After two centuries of absence,Shamar tulku was again officially recognized, this time on Indian soil.For a moment it looked like the extent of the disaster and the status ofdestitute refugees in an impoverished land would force the Tibetans tocome to reason and work together. As it later turned out, the total ruinof their country wasn't affliction enough to bend the collective tendencyof the nation to quarrel. No sooner had the dust from the disaster settled,than the feuds from the old days revived with much of their former fervor.The old Lhasa regime, disguised behind a new name, "Tibetan Governmentin Exile," and operating from its new seat in Dharamsala in the westernHimalayas, inherited the old agenda of hostility towards the other Buddhistschools. The members of this illustrious body took up, with the same misguidedenthusiasm, the prejudices, rivalries, and fights of the past. The Khampas,in particular, were considered a serious threat to the newest ambitionof the Gelugpa administration: that of representing and controlling allTibetans in exile. Gelo Thyndrub, the Dalai Lama's audacious brother, decidedthat the best answer to Mao's invasion and destruction of their countrywas to adapt Tibet and Tibetan policy in exile to the new Communist realities.He boldly proposed to abolish the old Buddhist schools, to do away withthe rich, religious show, and thus bring the high lamas to the ground."No more thrones, rituals, or gold brocades," he was rumoredto have uttered. His words struck fear into the lamas' hearts. As moredetails of the elaborate plan began to emerge, it became clear that a coupagainst three of the schools was being hatched. The new religious bodythat would replace the traditional lineages was to be controlled by theGelugpa hierarchy. The worried lamas rushed to Karmapa for help.

Having been invited by the ruling family to settle in the kingdom ofSikkim in the eastern Himalayas, Karmapa founded, in 1961, Rumtek monastery.The place soon became a major center of study and assumed a position equalto Dharamsala. His two closest disciples-the reinstated Kunzig Shamar andthe Tai Situ-together with the freshly integrated Jamgon Kongtrul and theGoshir Gyaltsab, were trained, under his direct guidance, in the newlybuilt institute and cloister. Even though Karmapa shunned with determinationTibetan politics, he was a voice to be reckoned with in the affairs ofthe region. Highly honored by various Himalayan nations, his word was lawwhen it came to the Khampas. The warlike eastern Tibetans and a numberof high lamas, coming under pressure from the exiled government, gatheredat his side for support and assistance. Dharam-sala's latest initiativeto merge all schools into one body was a threat to the schools' self-rule.If carried out, such a move would signify the end of many unique Buddhistpractices that each lineage had preserved as their speciality for centuries.Not in the least disposed to be swallowed up by big brother, thirteen largeTibetan settlements-mainly refugees from Kham-formed a political allianceand chose Karmapa as their spiritual leader. A powerful and opposite poleto the Dalai Lama and the official line of Dharamsala came into existence.The new coalition fought successfully against the idea of doing away withTibet's religious diversity, and, in the end, the misguided plan had tobe abandoned. But the government could not forgive Karmapa his uncompromisingstance in the dispute and his defiance of the Dalai Lama's authority, andthe Kagyus became the targets of unsavory attacks. When in 1976, GungthangTsultrim, the political head of the alliance, was murdered and the assassinconfessed to operate on orders from the Tibetan cabinet, Rumtek and Dharamsaladrifted farther apart. The Dalai Lama's and Karmapa's initial friendshipwas buried under the painful realities. In light of Karmapa's independentposition, ministers in the Tibetan administration came to regret the DalaiLama's change of policy concerning Shamarpa. Although the lifting of theban was, to a large extent, an empty gesture-neither the Dalai Lama norhis government held jurisdiction in India, and Shamarpa didn't requirethe Tibetan leader's permission to go public on foreign soil-the decisionbrought an outcry. For centuries, both Karmapa and Shamar tulku had remainedunpopular figures within the government circles, and Lhasa's action fromtwo hundred years ago had been hailed a victory against the mutinous Kagyus.Today, Karmapa's high profile and his main student's sudden re-emergencewere declared a threat to the Gelugpa's political aims. The head of theKagyus and his senior disciple turned into Dharamsala's bitter enemies.The Dalai Lama, as nominal ruler of all Tibetans, was expected to keepabove such scheming and unhealthy reasoning. Surrounded by players witha serious bent for conspiracy and trying to accommodate all parties, hehad only the reputation of his name left at his disposal. To halt the advancesof the less rational members of his cabinet, he would periodically declarehimself to be the last incarnation in the line of the Dalai Lamas. Thestrategy would work for a time, until his politicians reassumed their confrontationaltactics and continued conspiring against the other three Buddhist schools.

However, the clashes among Tibetans were not confined to the Gelugpas'harassment of their rivals. Opposition to Shamarpa's reinstatement emerged,unexpectedly, from far more immediate quarters than the government housesin Dharamsala. Every tulku in Tibet was surrounded and groomed from cradleto grave by a retinue of professional advisers and servants. Life afterlife their families held the same functions around their lama. This groupgrew in prominence and size until it became a de facto court, tightly besettingtheir master. Personal ambitions here meant a great deal more than onewould expect from people in the service of a spiritual teacher. The incarnationsof Karmapa and his close disciples each maintained such an entourage whosemembers jealously guarded their place in the hierarchy of the lineage.When Shamarpa and his household were banned from the public scene, thegroups surrounding other eminent Kagyu lamas moved, together with theirRin-poches, one notch higher in the pecking order. Shamarpa's sudden returnbrought an end to that cozy state of affairs. As he reclaimed his placeas senior student to Karmapa, the retinue of Situ Rinpoche was forced oneplace down in the power system. Even more displeased were the followersof Gyaltsab Rin-poche. They shared several buildings with Karmapa's administrationin Tsurphu, His Holiness' main seat in Tibet, and had been filing lawsuitsfor centuries to contest the property. Now, due to Shamar-pa's reappearanceand after the 16th Karmapa inserted Jamgon Kongtrul as the fourth in thelineage, they had to live with the fifth position. Such events were dynamitein traditional Asian societies. After two hundred years of enjoying highstatus, the protective families that surrounded Tai Situ and Goshir Gyaltsabwere unwilling to accept this latest sad twist in their fortunes. Shamarpastood in their way, and so the government in Dharamsala gained an unforeseenally in challenging the senior Kagyu lineage holder. It was generally assumed,though not always proven, that the Rinpoches themselves were above theseMachiavellian calculations. While Karmapa was alive, he remained the undisputedleader of the Kagyu lineage. He personally took over the education of manyof the Kagyu high incarnates and envisioned Rumtek as a center of learning,meditation, and ritual-the best shield against the disappearance of theteachings. From an early age on, his four close disciples grew under Karmapa'ssupervision, receiving instructions and empowerment into the treasuresof the Kagyu transmission. The common upbringing was to strengthen thelinks between the young tulkus as well as to forge a united leadershipof the lineage for the inevitable time when Karmapa would pass away. Werethere, at this early stage, any signs of the coming rupture between theShamar and Situ Rinpoches? Did one bear a secret grudge against the otheralready during the early days in Rumtek? In truth, even though growingtogether under Karmapa's watch, they did not associate with each other.Once the eminent party of refugees had established itself on Sikkimesesoil, the young Tai Situ-a powerful figure in eastern Tibet in his previouslife-was immediately besieged by his now diminished administration. Thepoor but still avid attendants, afraid their adolescent master might fallfor the glitter of the modern world, had offered him every kind of materialcomfort but kept him under lock and key in his quarters. From a young age,the juvenile tulku ate alone, played alone, and sat down-apparently withlittle enthusiasm-to his books alone. On top of this, the fact that Shamarpaand Situpa claimed origin from opposite backgrounds didn't help to bridgethe differences either. The former enjoyed the luster of aristocratic descentwith links to Karmapa's family. The latter, proud and imperious in hislast incarnation, now bore the stigma of the son of a blacksmith-a professionclose to that of mole hunter or butcher in the old Tibet. If his fine ancestryhad given Sharmapa reasons for celebration, his present circumstances puthim at a disadvantage to his brethren. While the three tulkus were reborn,as it were, into their old retinues of advisers and servants, Shamarpa,during his two hundred years of official banishment, all but lost his loyalcircle of assistants. The situation gave him a good deal of freedom andwas not exceptionally worrisome as long as Karmapa was there to fend offany offensive against his principal student. Once alone, should a conflictarise-his position of senior disciple notwithstanding-Shamarpa was undoubtedlymore vulnerable to political attack than his three peers. The members ofSitupa's close circle had already begun to weave their own designs in thenew haven. They banded together with one Gyaton tulku-a lama sent to Sikkimyears before by Karmapa who now opposed His Holiness' presence in the enclave-andtried, however unsuccessfully, to create their own power base in the capitalGangtok.

When in September of 1970 the young Danes, Hannah and Ole, made theirway to the then off limits Rumtek monastery, they found an excellent conditionfor spiritual growth. Indian bureaucrats exceeded themselves in makingthe entry into Sikkim difficult and the stay in the region brief, but thecouple's skills in duping them proved worthwhile. On the sunny Himalayanslopes that faced Tibet and Bhutan, the four young tulkus and other lamasmerged their minds with Karmapa's enlightened essence, renewing the bondsto their teacher that ran many lives into the past. Under Karmapa's protectivefield, the place flourished, and the occasional rumors about Damcho Yongdu,the old general secretary's despotic temper and his iron-fist-rule, werenot able to dispel the genuine atmosphere of harmony and growth. Beforepassing away in the autumn of 1981, Karmapa expressed a strong wish thatthree vital projects be completed: the Nalanda Institute for Higher BuddhistStudies in Rumtek, the Dharma Chakra Center in New Delhi, and the printingof 500 sets of the Tengyur, an extensive collection of commentaries tothe Buddha's teachings. The first of these projects came under the supervisionof Jamgon Rinpoche, while the undertaking in Delhi, which later becameknown as Karmapa International Buddhist Institute, became the domain ofShamar Rinpoche. The printing of the Tengyur, a tedious and meticulouslylong process, was also to be finalized in Delhi. Hence, some of the youngRinpoches were soon to come from under Karmapa's wings and test their strengthin the big world. Tai Situ had already ventured out of the monastery in1976, before the completion of his training. However, his shift to thewestern Himalayas had apparently been premature and against his lama'swishes. Time and again, Karmapa confided privately to Hannah and Ole thatSitu Rinpoche should return to Sikkim to finish his instructions on Mahamudraor the Great Seal-the ultimate view on the nature of reality. But to noavail-Karmapa's appeals fell on deaf ears, and Situpa remained in voluntaryexile from the main seat for a lot longer than was beneficial. When hefinally came round, the time and conditions for the fulfillment of histraining were over. In one of the notes to his lama, Situ Rinpoche wonderedwhy Karmapa refused to answer his many previous letters. It seemed thatafter years of pleading with his heart son to come back, in the end, HisHoliness decided against having him at his quarters. And so, except fora stay during Karmapa's cremation ceremony and a few brief visits thereafter,Tai Situ remained consistently away from Rumtek until 1992. When he appearedin May of that year, he had a good deal more on his mind than just thedesire to perform his religious duties.

The first signs of a conflict brewing within the lineage appeared directlyafter Karmapa passed away in 1981. A year and a half earlier, on solsticeday in Colorado, he had confided the time of his death to Hannah and Ole.Following his wishes, the Danish couple travelled to Sikkim with a hundredof their friends and arrived in Rumtek shortly before Karmapa died in America.Forty-five days later, on the December 20, 1981, the official cremationceremony brought several thousand of Karmapa's followers to his headquarters.During this significant event, while His Holiness' body-which had shrunkto the size of a baby-was consumed by the shooting flames, suddenly a "blue-blackball" rolled out of an opening in the pyre. It came to rest on thenorthern side of the cremation place, towards Tibet, where Lopon Chechoo-Karmapa'sconfidant-and two other lamas were standing. The unusual phenomenon createda good deal of excitement and speculation. Nobody knew exactly what tomake of the mysterious object, and the puzzled lamas ran for advice toKalu Rinpoche, the oldest and by assumption the wisest in the gathering.After carefully examining the intricate "ball," the senior Kalunodded in knowledgeable approval but remained as perplexed as the restof the illustrious assembly. Everybody exchanged bewildered glances andhelplessly waited for some answer. By now people thought the object resembleda human organ, so Lopon Chechoo had it placed high on the side of the Stupa.At that moment, Situ Rinpoche emerged from the adjacent room with offeringsto be burnt in the fire. He noticed the commotion but obviously had noclue as to what was happening. Seeing the baffled faces around him andthe round lump high on a steel plate, he took the plate in his hands and,amid much pomp and circumstance, disappeared with his new possession intothe main shrine room. Later that night, operating on a less ceremonialnote, he quietly transferred the object to his private quarters where hekept it closeted away. Three days later, a big Kagyu conference took placein Rumtek. As senior lamas of the lineage sat next to each other in thehall of the institute, Situ Rinpoche rose from his chair and addressedthe distinguished gathering of traditional Tibetan Rinpoches in English.He first disclosed that what he had secured in his room was, in actualfact, Karmapa's heart. "The heart flew from the north door of thecremation pyre and landed in my palm," he proudly confessed, exposing,for everyone to admire, his right palm. "It now belongs to me,"he concluded. He then announced he would build a two-to-three-foot stupaof solid gold in Sherab Ling, his monastery in the western Himalayas, tohouse the precious relic. The lamas looked impassively at Situpa talkingto them in English, unable to make out a single word of his speech. Thefew Westerners present gaped at the speaker in astonishment. With satisfaction,Tai Situ scanned the silent assembly and sat back in his seat, not showingthe slightest inclination to render his historic message into Tibetan.Why he chose to enlighten the Rinpoches with so momentous a communicationin a language they did not understand, was a mystery. "Rinpoche, youshould speak in Tibetan," Shamarpa's voice resounded in the packedhall. Not informed about the meeting, Shamar tulku had arrived halfwaythrough his peer's sermon, just in time to hear how the heart had sailedfrom the pyre into Situpa's palm. He must have at once realized that TaiSitu was planning to carry away the precious relic to Sherab Ling and nobodywas going to stop him. The elderly lamas, having been offered an explanationin a foreign tongue, were kept nicely in the dark. With no time to lose,Shamarpa kindly invited his peer to repeat in Tibetan what he had statedonly a moment before in English. Visibly ill at ease, Tai Situ rose forthe second time. "Shamar Rinpoche has rightly reminded me that I forgotthe Tibetan," he acknowledged and recounted the story in his nativedialect. Enter Damcho Yongdu, the combative, Rumtek's old general secretary.Situpa's sudden rise to custodian of Karmapa's heart was as much news tohim as it clearly was to the rest of the assemblage. Less than impressedby the biased version of events from the cremation ceremony, and in nomood to let the unusual relic slip out of Rumtek, Damcho Yongdu boldlydeclared that the heart had not flown into anybody's palm, definitely notinto Situpa's. He then rallied his forces to challenge Sherab Ling's bid.Speaking on behalf of the Rumtek administration, he pledged funds to erect-ifneed be-a five-foot gold stupa. As caretaker of Karmapa's seat, he firmlydemanded that all items that have to do with the welfare and future prosperityof the lineage be left, in keeping with His Holiness' wishes, in Rumtek.Without waiting for any more surprises, the old man lead a procession toSitupa's room and quickly removed the relic from the shelf. His resoluteaction, clear reasoning, and decisive outbidding of Situpa's offer carriedthe day. Karmapa's heart was allowed to remain in Rumtek, awaiting thepromised gold stupa to house it. As it later turned out, Damcho Yongdumade good on his promise. Today, a stupa of solid gold-though only a foothigh-rules over Rumtek from the first floor of the monastery. What wasdisturbing about the whole incident was not so much the tug of war overKarmapa's heart-this was understandable in view of the extraordinary natureof the relic-but the conscious distortion of facts adopted by a venerablelineage holder. Situ Rinpoche's version of how the relic came into hishands was, at best, a vague and murky rendering of the truth and had certainlystretched the goodwill and imagination of the participants in the ceremonyto the limit. For as eyewitnesses put it years later, the only reason whythe heart came into Situpa's hands was simply because he snatched it fromthe side of the stupa and scooted off with it unchallenged. Even more disturbingwas the fact that Situpa's backers allowed this visible deceit to growunhindered. After years of intense campaigning and agitation, the storyof Situpa prophetically receiving and carrying away the relic would achievethe status of holy proof that he was indeed the senior peer of the lineage,selected by Karmapa himself to bring forth his next incarnation. Such opendeparture from reality created a dangerous precedent and set the tone formuch of the future communication at the top of the lineage. At that time,however, nobody dared confront a high lama with a lie. It was not yet possible.Having failed to get hold of Karmapa's heart, Situ Rinpoche requested totake possession of Karmapa's practice book instead. He reasoned that hismonastery needed a special blessing from his teacher and a book that Karmapaused to read every day was just the thing he had been looking for. Thistime, the old secretary was on full guard. As years later Shamar Rinpochewould disclose in an interview with the author of this book, Damcho Yongdustrongly confronted Situpa's new fancy. "Rinpoche, don't give himthe book," the old man argued to Shamarpa. "He is going to producea false prediction letter about the next Karmapa out of it." The chargesounded largely overdone, if not totally insane, but, nonetheless, TaiSitu got nowhere with his lobbying and, eventually, had to leave Rumtekempty-handed. Karmapa's belongings stayed at his seat. As if followingan inner call, right after the conference, a host of dissatisfied assistantsbegan laying siege to Situpa's ear. "Shamar Rinpoche played such acunning game on you during the meeting," they whispered. "Hecheated you badly! Shamar Rinpoche is too quick for you," and so on,singing to an envious tune and completely ignoring the fact that it wasnone other than their master who had actually tried to cheat. It was notimmediately clear how much credence, if any, Tai Situ gave to such divisivechatter, but the widely circulated theme of Shamarpa playing a dirty trickand easily outwitting his equal must have gained, in the end, a footholdin Situpa's heart. As imminent events would prove, the seeds of contentionhad been sown, and, whether intentionally or not, Karmapa's two foremostdisciples embarked, from that time on, on a competitive and soon hostilepath.

Orderthis book

BACK TO BUDDHIST NEWS

BACK TO BUDDHIST LIBRARY