IT IS WITH a deep sense of accomplishment that I welcome this publication of the portraits and biographies of the eighty Buddhist “saints.” Although I always refer to them as the “eighty saints,” they should properly be referred to as the eighty drup-chen (great accomplished ones) in Tibetan, or mahāsiddhas in Sanskrit. There are actually eighty-four of them in this collection, along with a principal buddha as the central figure.
These paintings were originally intended for a family chapel, a mani lhakhang, that my grandfather wanted to build in our home in Lhasa. Returning to the capital in 1935 after seventeen years of military service in eastern Tibet, he died before he was able to build the chapel. He died in 1938 at the young age of forty-eight. Years of difficult campaigns driving Chinese forces from Tibet took their toll. Thus, the paintings were never properly framed in silk brocade in the traditional way for hanging.
My late father kept these paintings close to him for sentimental and historical reasons. Because of their small size, together no larger than a hardcover book, he took them to every temporary home we made in our early refugee years in India after 1959. Later, when the collection came into my possession, it traveled from Dharamsala to New York City, to Falls Church, Virginia, Palo Alto, California, and back to northern Virginia. Now, finally, in a published form, the paintings have found a new home.
I am most grateful to Donald Lopez for making this publication possible, and for allowing me to claim a sense of accomplishment, which I would not have been able to do alone. I had for many years harbored the hope to publish these paintings, but knew that without a proper accompanying text, it would be incomplete. While the paintings are a testament to the fine painting tradition and skills of the artists in Derge, the collection is made whole and meaningful by the biographies and the excellent introduction by Professor Lopez. I am especially pleased that the book has been published by Shambhala, which has been such a valuable resource for the people of Tibet and the world.
Professor Lopez and I first met in 1979, during His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s first trip to the United States. He was a graduate student at the University of Virginia and served as its liaison with the Office of Tibet, which I headed in my capacity as His Holiness’s representative. I first thought of asking him for help on this project when we met on several occasions at Stanford University where he came to lecture occasionally and where I was affiliated with the Tibetan Studies Initiative in the Department of Religious Studies. I attended his lectures, and even joined him on a panel discussion about the Tibetan system of tulkus, recognized reincarnated teachers, together with three Tibetan tulkus living in the United States: Arjia Rinpoche from Indiana, Telo Tulku of Kalmykia, and Thepo Tulku from the San Francisco Bay Area. On another occasion, during a lecture on his translation of the poems of Gendun Chopel, one of Tibet’s most renowned scholars of the twentieth century, Professor Lopez gave me the honor of reading one of the poems in Tibetan, in remembrance of Gendun Chopel’s friendship with my late father, Gyurme Gyatso’s son.
I think Gyurme Gyatso would be pleased to see his “saints” shared with the rest of the world. He made a special effort to commission the collection and to have each saint individually recognized by taking them to Lhasa, the center of the Tibetan Buddhist world, for all to see. And now, the saints have gone far beyond Tibet.
Gyurme Gyatso was a warrior, not just for the courage he showed in battle. He chose to take on the task before him and protect those in need, and he believed in the sovereignty of the land and people of Tibet. He survived many campaigns and returned to Lhasa as one who had “vanquished the enemy,” something Tibetans had not done since the time of the ancient Tibetan kings, more than a thousand years before. He is fondly remembered in a popular nangma (ballad) of the day, “Sungtse La.”
Several years ago, when visiting an old friend in Thimphu, Bhutan, I called on his ailing mother. The moment I was introduced, she said, “Of course, I know Tethong Dapon.” Referring to my grandfather as “Dochi” (“governor of eastern Tibet”), she went on to say that she was only a child when he was in Kham, but she knew how much he was admired. It was reassuring to hear her speak about him with such respect; some high officials from Lhasa did not perform their duties in distant postings with integrity. I felt a reconnection to my grandfather and to Derge, the lady’s hometown, where the saintly portraits in this collection were made. I was reminded of the paintings and of the chapel that my grandfather could not build, behind the home that none of his descendants have been able to visit since 1959.
The lives of the mahāsiddhas were assembled to inspire; that no matter one’s station in life, or one’s abilities, rudimentary or profound, each can become an “accomplished one” on the path to enlightenment and liberation.
Tenzin Namgyal
Grandson of Tethong Gyurme Gyatso