Hearing sorrowful news about my Elder Brother on International Father's Day

I usually leave my phone off when I go to bed at night. On this particular morning, as soon as I woke up, I turned on my phone and saw a message on WeChat from Tibet. It was Ani Yangchen Drolma, the oldest niece of my older paternal brother, the elder monk Lobsang Gyaltsen—known for his steadfastness in maintaining discipline. She relayed that my elder brother had just passed away. Then, immediately, I sent a message to her on WeChat, and Ani answered the phone. She, speaking in the pure Nangchen dialect, said in a sorrowful voice, choking on her tears, “Respected Sir; today, Uncle Gyaltsen passed away at Kamdha Monastery.” As soon as I heard the bad news, I felt very shaken. The reason is that just the day before my brother passed away, the two of us videochatted for more than an hour. At that time, he was in good health and his mind was very clear. Actually, he didn’t have a phone at all, and usually when I contacted him, I did so through one of his nieces. We talked for a long time about how my brother Lobsang Gyaltsen passed away. His niece told me how Lobsang Gyaltsen died as follows.

She recounted thus, “Generally, my uncle has had a severe liver disease for several years and also has diabetes. He usually has to take Chinese and Tibetan medicine alternately. He is 82 years old this year. He usually only engages in chanting and meditation and does not like to go outside. Because of that, he had difficulty walking a few years ago and became bedridden. My younger sister, Ani Kunsang Dolma, and I have been taking care of him as best as we can. No matter how bad his physical condition is, he is always joyful and his face is full of smiles. Recently, he said that he would go to his own monastery, Kamdha Monastery, this summer. My sister and I also went to Kamdha Monastery with him as caretakers and attendants. After arriving at the monastery, a day later, my uncle said that he felt a little pain in his upper chest. When I asked if it would be better to go to any Chinese hospital in our city of Shar-dha or the bigger, developed city of Kyegudo, etc., my uncle didn't want to go. Then, the person working in the traditional medicine clinic who was there gave him Tibetan medicine, and soon after he took it, while my uncle was sitting in bed, he bowed his head slightly without any pain or suffering. When the attendant checked, she knew that he had passed away immediately. That's how my uncle died.” That’s what Yangchen Dolma, who is my brother’s niece, said with tears. 

Then, with an empty feeling in my heart, I sat in the kitchen, crying, not knowing what to do. As long as the three poisons of desire, hatred, and ignorance are not abandoned, being separated from what one likes, particularly the suffering of being separated from loved ones, is the most painful and longest-lasting suffering of all. For nearly thirty years, being separated from my homeland, my monastery, my family, my Dharma friends, my siblings, etc., has resulted in a separation of life and death. Wherever one stays, among friends and enemies, whether in poverty or wealth, it all comes from the power of karma. When I think about not being able to actually meet my family in Tibet, no matter how happy life is in a foreign country, wherever I live, whomever I associate with, or however prosperous I become, the suffering of not being able to reunite with them for me and for other Tibetan refugees like me reminds me of the saying, “the mark of ‘refuge’ written on my forehead by karma in this life will not disappear.”

As a bit of background about my elder brother: my late father had four children in total, three sons and one daughter. I am the youngest. My brother, Lobsang Gyaltsen, who passed away was the oldest. From a young age, my brother entered the Kamdha Monastery, a Gelug monastery in that area, and ordained as a monk. He not only studied the monastery's rituals well but also received empowerments and instructions from many spiritual mentors from Chamdo Monastery. He engaged in retreats of many deities and was always diligent in his practice. 

In Kamdha Monastery, there were several monks with the same name, Gyaltsen, so sometimes he was also called Shingzo Gyaltsen, which roughly translates to “Carpenter Gyaltsen”. When I was twenty-one years old, in 1985, during my three-year, three-month retreat, my elder brother made me a high-quality wooden tsampa box that could hold butter and curd on the right side and tsampa on the left side, which was very useful during the three years in the retreat. Even today, remembering my brother's handmade wooden tsampa box is not only a precious treasure but also one of my most precious memories of him.

In 1995, my older brother, Lobsang Gyaltsen, was forcibly appointed as the steward and treasurer of his monastery, Kamdha, against his will. He was very humble and disdained any high sounding titles or names, such as tulku and the like, which others would bestow on him. At the end of his term, without having misappropriated any of the monastery's assets, he prostrated three times before the assembly of monks when he handed over the accounts three years later, stating, "I have never used a single penny of the monastery's public property for three years," he said. From that time on, the monks of the monastery called him by his namethe name ‘Gyalmtshan Gser Nag Phabong’. Ser nag is a very precious black gold and heavy rock, so this very good title means that he is a good man and a stable man who does not change. Almost all monasteries give nicknames to monks, which they use to refer to one another and are often very funny; however, my brother’s nickname was very special.

My elder brother usually stayed in the monastery and rarely ventured outside to visit the city or even our family. At a very young age he left for the monastery. Most of the people in our village didn’t even know that he was my brother because he spent basically all of his life in the monastery and did not return to meet his family. In Tibet, it is often said that the monk who does not return home is definitely a good monk.

In 1997, when my father fell sick and was bedridden, my older brother Gyaltsen went to see our father several times. That was the last time the two of us met in-person. In 1998, I had to come to India. Since then, the two of us have only talked on the phone and on video, but we have not been able to meet in-person. My elder brother resembles my father in terms of his body size and his facial features. Although we are sons of the same father, our monasteries and lineages are slightly different. His monastery is called Kamdha Monastery and his tradition is Gelugpa; my monastery is called Japa Monastery and my tradition is Kagyu.

Actually, I don’t want to just praise my brother, claiming that he was a good monk, or for you to just take my word for it. His passing brought to mind this story, which I will retell about a very great Lama and what I remember he said about my elder brother.

It was probably in 1992–I don't remember the exact date–when I went to Dege, which is another region in Kham, which was quite far away from my home city of Nangchen to study Dharma. Upon my return, I met with Ade Rinpoche, a Drukpa Kagyu Lama from Sharda Village in Nangchen; he said to me,“These days, I hear that some monks from Nangchen are going far away to study. That's very good. However, it seems that no one in Nangchen visits the great scholar Kamdha Tritul Rinpoche. It's like the saying: 'Searching for copper elsewhere when you have gold yourself.' You should go to Tritul Rinpoche next time; there is nothing he doesn't know. Actually, I don't know if he gives teachings because he is too humble,” he said. From that point on, I wanted to meet Tritul Rinpoche.

In 1996, I went to see Lama Tritul Rinpoche of Kamdha Monastery for the first time. Rinpoche usually did not reside at the monastery. Instead, he lived with his relatives in a small village. One day, I went with my aunt, Tsering Yangzom, who lived in that same village, to see Rinpoche. Rinpoche was living in a small rural house made of rustic stone walls, and he was sitting on a meditation cushion very similar to the one used for a three-year, three-month retreat. He was short in stature, with round, bright eyes, a slight mustache, and wearing a maroon robe. Aunt Tsering Yangzom and his attendant Lobsang gave a brief introduction of me. Rinpoche seemed to know my father, and of course my older brother, Lobsang Gyaltsen, who was from the same monastery. 

Many people in the Dege region of Nangchen probably didn't know that Lama Tritul Rinpoche was a great scholar and practitioner. During the day, while I was receiving teachings from the Lama with devotion, many villagers would suddenly come for an audience; Rinpoche would then stop and give blessings, divinations, instructions, and recitations, etc., my teachings would be interrupted. It seemed that the main request of the people was to have their fortunes told. I would wait in a corner of the room until all the visitors had left. Sometimes, the Lama would say to me, "There are many people today. You go home and rest and I will teach you tomorrow.”

As I walked from the Lama's residence to my aunt’s house, which was only a short distance away, these thoughts came to my mind. A few years ago, Ade Rinpoche in Nangchen spoke about the virtues of Tritul Rinpoche, saying that you don't have to go far to study. He advised me to receive whatever teachings I could from Kamdha Tritul Rinpoche, and considering that such a great scholar and accomplished Lama resides in this remote valley, but the locals don't know and use him as a fortune teller, I thought of the verses from the Gelug Legshed composed by Panchen Sonam Drakpa:

“A wise person is not beautiful near a fool,

Because they fail to see their qualities.

Sandalwood is more precious than gold,

But fools regard it as charcoal.”

While going to my aunt’s place, I walked with those teachings in mind. In the village where Rinpoche resided, my aunt Tsering Yangdzom and her family also lived there, so during the day I would listen to the teachings from the Lama, and in the evening, I would return to my aunt’s place to meet with my relatives. Being able to both receive Dharma teachings from the Lama and meet with my relatives made me very happy at that time. Sometimes, Lama Tritul Rinpoche would say to me, "Your brother, Lobsang Gyaltsen, is a very good man. People like him are rare nowadays," he said, praising him. I remember that Rinpoche would sometimes compliment my handwriting and some of the poems I wrote. Anyways, I went to Tritul Rinpoche on three separate journeys and he gave me the teaching of the Lamrim, “Three Principal Aspects of the Path”. There was only one copy of the text we had, “The Perfection of Wisdom” by Sera Jetsun Pa, which the Lama would teach from during the day. Then in the evening, I would borrow the text to study it all night in order to return it early the next morning. Every day, he would teach from two or three pages and pick up where we left off the previous day. In total, I studied under Rinpoche for a long time, I think 5-6 months, listening to the Lama's teachings. He was the first Gelug Lama from whom I received teachings, and he showed me great kindness. He hailed from the same monastery as my older brother, Lobsang Gyaltsen. These are just some additional remarks related to my elder brother.

Anyways, my elder brother, the monk Lobsang Gyaltsen, passed away recently at the age of 82 at Kamdha Monastery. As soon as he passed away, the monastery's lamas and tulkus came and recited prayers and Guhyasamaja Root Tantra, etc. Upon his physical death, those at the monastery said that he remained in tukdam for the three days. Tukdam is a meditative state which occurs after physical death in which the body remains warm and sometimes upright, and shows very little signs of decomposition or deterioration, having some lifelike appearance and glow. It is believed that practitioners are in a deep state of meditation, and this state is considered a sign of a highly advanced meditative practice and a life lived with unbroken ethical and moral conduct. Those at the monastery said that the inside and outside of my elder brother’s residence were filled with pleasant fragrance, and everyone there determined it to be the scent of morality and pure conduct, unbroken vows, and auspicious signs. After four days, the tukdam state ceased, and according to ancient Tibetan tradition, the body was carried to the charnel ground and offered to the vultures in a sky burial, according to my elder brother's niece, Ani Yangchen Dolma. I wrote it in my diary for remembrance. To conclude: 

"Dear elder brother, during your life, you were a monk of pure discipline and a great practitioner of meditation. Therefore, please be assured that there will be no obstacles or fears on your journey.

Dear elder brother, during your stay, you cherished the three vows like your own eyes. After your passing, how could the fragrance of morality not spread?

Dear elder brother, your passing is truly that during your lifetime, the three vows were unbroken, your body was inseparable from the robes, your hands inseparable from the mala, your speech inseparable from recitation, and your mind inseparable from meditation. Yesterday at your death, you took these things together with you, complete, unbroken and perfect. Whether or not your body remained warm and upright after death, in tukdam, is meaningless to me.

Dear elder brother, I, your younger brother, including all the monks, nuns, nephews, and nieces who are your successors, have a firm commitment and aspiration to complete the practice of Dharma in this life as you did. We will follow your example.

Dear elder brother, it has been exactly twenty-eight years since we last met in person. I deeply regret not being there to bid you farewell yesterday. However, the love you have for me lives on within me, so may you have a peaceful journey this time. 

Dear elder brother, I pray that we may meet again, as brothers, in our next life, in a Pureland or any other good place, wherever it may be."

Your younger brother, Karma Tenzung, from the shore of the Pacific Ocean in California, USA, at the Manjushri Dharma Center. On the occasion of the 90th birthday of my Lama, His Holiness Kyabje Khyenkong Gyalwang Thamtad, the 14th Dalai Lama, on the 11th of the fifth month of the Wood Snake year 2152 of the Tibetan calendar/5/11/2025, July 6, 2025, I, the younger brother, wrote and offer this with heartfelt remembrance.

(translated directly from Tibetan with the assistance of AI software and my student)