“Come on, I’ll show you something,” Zhigzhed said and led me to the second floor of the Tibetan Library.
He led me to a black-and-white photograph of a Lama. In the photo, the Lama was calm and focused at the same time.
- This is my Teacher, he is currently teaching in Buryatia. I’m wondering if you have a karmic connection with him. What do you think?
I looked at the slightly hard features of the face, but I didn’t feel anything. But I had no doubt that I had seen him somewhere, since the face was familiar, but it would be somewhat absurd to pass it off as a karmic connection.
- I think I saw his picture in some Russian Buddhist magazine.
- Ah, slightly disappointed, Zhigzhed drawled and went to the stairs.
I was a little sorry, and it seemed that I had upset him with this. After all, a teacher is sacred, and Zhigzhed was my closest friend back then. Or so I thought. However, at that time, few people shared my fanatical attitude towards spiritual practice, India and Tibetan Buddhism. But Zhigzhel shared, listened to me attentively, and told me in detail everything he knew about Buddhism, since he had been a monk in a real Buddhist monastery in India for many years. It was unusual, mysterious, and delightful. And I was almost happy, calm, and grateful that I could have long conversations with him, walk around Dharamsala Buddhist sites, and share not only my thoughts, but even my doubts.
At that time, I was living in the house of a famous Lama, Bogdo Gegen Rinpoche, but when I arrived in India for the first time, I perceived this corner of the world as fiction.
Bogdo Gegen Rinpoche was scheduled to visit Russia in the summer, and Gigged and I were lucky enough to accompany him to Buryatia.
I was also in Buryatia for the first time, and she greeted me very generously, especially when Rinpoche went to Kizhinginsky Datsan and gave an Initiation into Chod. Unusual, lovely people surrounded us, gave us shelter, and treated us to large, delicious mantas and thick sour cream.
“There’s Lodoi Rinpoche’s cabin,” Jigged whispered to me, pointing to a new small log cabin within the datsan. I was glad that I would finally see my friend’s Teacher and tell him exactly whether I feel a karmic connection with him or not.
- Will we be able to meet with him? I asked.
- I’m not sure, because he recently underwent a very complicated operation, and most likely won’t come, because he mostly lives in Ulan-Ude.
But Lodoi Rinpoche has arrived.
Two respected Lamas, my Teacher and Zhigzheda’s Teacher, met with great respect and had a little chat with each other. But there was no way to approach and get acquainted, because Lodoi Rinpoche was also surrounded by many people. I thought I’d have time to go to him later, so I took my time. But he left quickly, and I was a little upset. “So I don’t have a karmic connection with him,” I thought and sighed. Since I was just a novice Buddhist at that time, of course, I would have been pleased if my good friend’s Teacher had been somehow connected with me, but also a certain adequacy sobered me, of course, which may not always be the way we want it to be. But even if not, I would like to make at least some kind of offering to him to create this karmic connection, but I didn’t have time to do that either.
Our trip ended a few days later. Arriving at the Ulan-Ude railway station, I was sad to think that I had not seen my beloved Teacher Zhigzheda. It was already dark when we boarded the train and it was only a few minutes before its departure. And then suddenly, not far from our carriage, a Lama and a monk appeared, calmly walking along the empty platform. There were no people around, no walkers, no guards.
“This is my Teacher,” Zhigzhed shouted enthusiastically to me over the noise of the already working mechanisms of the composition.
- How is the Teacher? – I didn’t believe it, – Here, at night, almost alone?
- Yes, it’s strange, but it’s still the Same Rinpoche!
It was a shock. Still hesitating, I opened my bag and with a little regret counted only 350 rubles, took them out, and without hesitation jumped onto the platform, rushing with all my might to these people. I ran as fast as I could. The fear of being left alone in a strange city at night receded, there was only one goal ahead, to manage to transfer this meager money in order to create a karmic connection with such a wonderful Teacher, about whom I had already heard so much.
When I flew up to him, he was walking and looking at his feet, so my sudden appearance seemed to shock him too, and even kind of scared him. But I still managed to put an offering in his palm, and while the monk accompanying him made a threatening movement to protect me from the Lama, I was already running back to the train.
The train was already leaving when I clung to Zhigzheda’s arms and climbed into the vestibule. It took me a long time to catch my breath, but I was completely pleased with my audacity, and most importantly, that Even Lode Rinpoche looked into my eyes for the first time. I don’t know if he remembered me or recognized me during brief meetings, but after that moment, my life somehow began to intertwine with his Teachings in Russia, and then in Moscow.
Author: Elena Kshanti
