Tibetan Buddhist Tales and other True Stories

Discovering the Self.

Lyse M. Lauren Ever Here Now Publishing

FIRST KINDLE EDITION COPYRIGHT LYSE M. LAUREN 2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Cover Design by Lyse M Lauren (Symbol: Kalachakra, The Power of Ten.) Website: http://www.everherenow.com Email: nevernot@everherenow.com

Contents.
Preface. Back Cover.

Stories

1. Perils of Visiting the Lama. 2. Lama from Lahual. 3. Hidden Valleys of the Himalayas. 4. Beasty. 5. Bhutanese Meditator. 6. Tibetan Yogis and Yoginis. 7. He Who Dances in the Heart. 8. A Yeti Tale. 9. Journey to a Hidden Valley. 10.Taking Refuge with the Master. 11.The Alchemy of Generosity. 12.Around the Camp Fire. 13.Confrontations with Ghosts. 14.Revisiting the Place of Refuge. 15.Tigers in the Forest. 16.In a Place of Power.

17.A Feathered Friend. 18.Encounters. 19.Headlights in the Sky. 20.Winters in Salbari. 21.The Power of the Mind. 22.One Full Moon Night. 23.The Unwanted Gift.

Preface
This book is compiled from a collection of incidents that took place between the mid 1980s and the year 2007. Many of these were personally experienced by the author or either witnessed directly or related by firsthand sources. During those years I spent a lot of time in the Himalayan foothills mostly in either Nepal or in Darjeeling in the north-east of India. In 1985 I met my Master, a Tibetan Lama called Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche and I stayed near Him as much as possible until He passed away in September of 1991. Soon after this I met Chadral Rinpoche who thence forth has guided me till this day. Two Masters could not have been more unlike in character or in the way that They guided Their students and yet both these great Masters gave exactly what was appropriate and most needed during the times when I was able to stay near Them. Their lives were in every way exemplary and in every word, gesture, action and reaction one was dynamically, and often with supreme originality, pointed back towards Ones Self, the source of all Being. Even the most mundane of day to day happenings which may take place in Their presence, have the potential to transform and uplift. Such is the effortless dance of life of Those Who have moved beyond ego based existence; those Whose lives are an expression of That. They leave no footprints in this world and yet the whole atmosphere is perfumed and uplifted by Their presence in a way that is beyond time and space. It is with joy that I share some of these stories and I hope they will carry the reader into another frame of mind; a quieter, calmer and more contemplative one. In the silence that always surrounds who and what we really are is to be found that unending spring of joy and peace which is in fact the very source of our true nature. Sarva Mangalam. Lyse M Lauren

Das Mile Gompa Darjeeling 2013.

1 Perils of Visiting the Lama.

Darjeeling Town taken from Jore Bungalow.

Jore Bungalow is a nondescript road junction about nine kilo-metres from the town of Darjeeling in West Bengal, India. It clings to a ridge from which three roads veer off in different directions. One to the left winds its way several thousand feet down to the hill station of Kalimpong and then runs on to the small Indian state of Sikkim. Another goes down to Siliguri on the plains below and the third and smaller road winds up towards the famous view point of Tiger Hill. Hindus come from far and wide to see the sun rise from this vantage point. It is said that from here one can witness a flash of green light at the very moment the sun lifts above the horizon. Also from this place, on a clear day, one has an unimpeded view of the Himalayan Mountains, from Everest in the West and right across to the peaks in Bhutan on the Eastern horizon. However, from this vantage point, it is the worlds third highest peak Kangchendzonga, which dominates the view. In the 1960's, soon after the Chinese invaded Tibet, my teacher Chadral Rinpoche rebuilt a small Buddhist temple at Jore Bungalow and it was here that He established the very first, three year Buddhist retreat centre in India. He visited the place regularly, often slipping in unannounced and staying quietly a few days before word would get out that He was 'in residence'. Then, the crowds would begin to arrive from Darjeeling and the local surrounding villages; everyone eager

to receive His blessings, teachings and advice. The monastery would be crowded for a few days, then things would settle down again and the visitors taper off to a more manageable trickle. During one of Rinpoche's visits, my friends uncle, Kunzang, decided to pay his respects as was always his custom when Rinpoche visited Jore Bungalow. He waited a few days for the crowds to subside and then spruced himself up one morning, donned his best Tibetan jacket, filled his wallet, bought some cakes and a ceremonial scarf of greeting and boarded the local jeep. This was a dilapidated old vehicle called a dzongkar. It would only leave the Darjeeling motor stand when it was packed to bursting. Four people would be squeezed into the front seat, which should normally accommodate only two. Four more, plus a few children sat in the second row and finally in the back, four or five unfortunate fellows were pushed in along with bags of rice, vegetables and the odd live chicken or two. The old crate, when fired up, would then puff its way up the hill somewhat like the toy trains that chug up and down the tracks to Ghoom and back at about ten kilometers an hour. If one survived that bumpy, windy ride without vomiting, one would nevertheless expect to emerge from the old jeep somewhat rumpled, shaken and grey around the gills. However, the good and uncomplaining folk of Darjeeling were well acquainted with inconvenience and various other kinds of discomfort and somehow adapted themselves to these little trials. Once they had arrived in Jore Bungalow they then faced a fifteen minute, vertical climb at 7,500 feet and rising, to the Gompa. I can describe all of this in great detail as I lived at this particular Gompa for two years during the early 1990's and made the painful journey up and down to Darjeeling several times a week! The sprawling village of Jore Bungalow creeps along the ridge towards Ghoom, a Hindu word which translates as 'gloom'. This place boasts the highest railway station in the world, plus a more dubious fame for being blanketed in fog more days in a year than anywhere else on the planet. So, quite aside from the other discomforts of travel, upon arriving in this place one was almost invariably greeted by a most unpleasant, bitingly cold wind combined with tiny droplets which quickly soaked and chilled one to the bone. However, Kunzang, who had made this journey countless times before, hardly noticed that he was being battered by these icy fingers. He merely picked up his

gifts, all of which he had carefully arranged into little bundles and headed up the well worn path to the Rinpoches temple. It was early afternoon and to his surprise and delight the clouds of swirling mist parted for a moment and revealed a majestic vista of snowy white mountains. When he turned from this lovely scene he noticed a bright beam of sunshine lighting up the golden cupola on the top of the Temple. He took these happy occurrences as a good omen. Making his way around the Chortens and through the little Mani Lhakhang, where he gave the giant wheel a good spin, he climbed the familiar stairs up to Rinpoches room. He could already hear the booming voice of his beloved Lama. After removing his shoes and folding his Kadak, (ceremonial scarf of greeting) he made his way into the rooms with bows and prostrations at the feet of the Master. Rinpoche sat in a small, ornately carved wooden meditation box, cloaked in a huge red cape which was lined with some fluffy white stuff. He looked like father Christmas Himself. His head appeared to be surrounded by a halo of pure white and His beard was a jungle that extended itself in three directions. After their exchanged greetings, Kunzang sat down on the carpet just in front of Rinpoche and there followed some discussions and much laughter. They had known each other many years, even before they had both left Tibet, so there was an easy and familiar exchange between them. Chadral Rinpoche's room was of the simplest kind. It was small and somewhat dark. The shrine housed the usual statues and artefacts, along with silver offering bowls filled to the brim and butter lamps. There were little trails of memorabilia on every possible surface. Rocks from sacred places, nick knacks of every shape and colour, plastic flowers in Chinese vases, real flowers in Chinese vases, coins, scarves and offerings. There were so many peculiar little treasures in this room that from time to time, when there were fewer visitors, Rinpoche would enjoy looking at all the bits and pieces and then distribute them to new homes and destinations. However it did not take long for the room to fill again with a whole new array of gifts. After an hour had passed Kunzang finally got up to leave. When he had arrived, he had folded some few hundred rupee notes into a kadak, which he had then offered to Rinpoche. However, to his surprise, just as he was about to take his leave, Rinpoche suddenly reached over to the table and carefully took a two rupee note

that had been kept under a vase just next to his own folded offering. He then extended His hand towards Kunzang with the implication that he should take the note. It was a most unusual thing for Rinpoche to do. After all it was well known that Kunzang was a successful businessman. He had a wallet full of notes in his pocket and was by no means a destitute man. Certainly he was not a man in need of two rupees! Why on earth would Rinpoche offer this to him and be so insistent that he accept it? There was much chuckling and embarrassment all round, but the hand was still extended. Somewhat confounded, Kunzang finally accepted the note and took his leave. As he made his way back down the hill, he wondered about this sudden eccentricity in the Lama. He boarded the jeep once again and eventually it bought him back to the motor stand in the lower Darjeeling market. Climbing out he reached for his wallet to pay for the fare. It was gone. Searching high and low, he could not find it anywhere. The only thing he could discover in his pockets was the two rupee note that Rinpoche had given him. It was just enough to pay the fare. If one goes to visit the 'Lama' one may not always get what one wants, but one will certainly get what one needs... Back to the Top

2
The Lama from Lahaul.
Lahaul is a mountainous region that lies to the north of Manali above and beyond a formidable pass called Rohtang. Most of the year this pass is snow bound and the upper valleys of Lahaul and Spiti are cut off from the outside world. One can usually only visit these places by road between the months of June and September. So in the 1980s I crossed the pass intending to spend the short summer months exploring the area as it had only recently been opened to foreign visitors. A day after arriving in the village of Keylong I took a back pack with a few provisions and some water and headed off up the slopes across a valley opposite the town. A path wound its way up to a small temple nestled in the crest of some gigantic cliffs way up on the mountain side. It took several hours to reach this remote location and was tough climbing in the thin, high altitude air, but the scenery was stunning and more than compensated for the difficulties encountered along the way. The tiny trail crossed small, bubbling, crystal clear streams. The hill sides were verdant with wild flowers of every shade and variety and all of this was enclosed beneath glistening, snow capped mountains which stretched up into an azure blue sky. When I finally reached the old monastery I found it surrounded by the simple stone dwellings of a number of monks and nuns, all of whom formed part of a closely knit community of Buddhist Yoga Practitioners. During the short summers there is a lot of activity going on in these tiny communities. Houses need to be re-mudded and sealed for the coming winter season. Supplies of fire wood need to be collected and all manner of preparations made for the long months when it would be neither possible nor practical to move around outside. During winter the monks and nuns stay in their houses and practice in retreat but during the summer months they move about freely, visiting one another in various communities, attending ceremonies, receiving teachings and collecting stores and provisions. Therefore I was rather fortunate to find the head Lama at home. Normally during this time of the year he would be away visiting somewhere or teaching his students at other retreat locations. I was in luck, not only because he was at the monastery but when he heard that my teacher was Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, he immediately

and without the least hesitation invited me to stay in his house. This was indeed a good fortune that I could not turn down and very soon I was installed in a bright, comfortable room on the third floor of his dwelling. There were large windows on two sides from which I had sweeping views of the mountains and valleys in the north and to the west. The room also opened out onto a spacious rooftop which made a perfect place to meditate or to just sit and enjoy an evening sunset. The next day I climbed back down to the town of Keylong to pick up my things and buy a few provisions for a longer stay at the monastery. As I was taking some lunch at the lodge where I had stored my bag, the owner came up to my table and asked me where I had disappeared to the day before. I related my adventures and told him I was intending to stay longer. He responded positively and immediately added something rather intriguing. He said I was very privileged to stay at that particular Lamas house and that he was known in these parts as the 'levitating Lama' Lama Phuntsok did not have anything in his appearance that might have led one to suspect that he was a 'levitator'. He was short, middle aged, balding and had an expansive girth; he also had a wonderful smile and very bright and alert eyes. Once I was comfortably installed in his house, I did not lose much time in expressing my curiosity as to his supposed past feats. This didn't generate quite the response I had envisioned. At my mention of the hotel manager's description of him as the 'levitating Lama', he instantly burst into a raucous laugh. However, after a little more persuasion and because my curiosity would not be so easily appeased, he sat down and told me the tale of how he had come to be known by this curious title. It had happened when he was in his late twenties and had just recently completed his second three year retreat. The sect of Tibetan Buddhism to which he belongs is famous for its yoga practices. Many of the practitioners spend long years in retreats perfecting them. Tumo, the practice that enables one to remain warm even in extremely cold temperatures is one of these Yogas. A form of levitation is another. During his retreat, the Lama said he became very proficient at both and word of his abilities soon spread far and wide throughout the Buddhist communities of Himachal Pradesh. One day a very official looking letter arrived for him from Dharamsala. He was being summoned by none other than the Dalai Lama.

Normally the Lamas from the Drukpa Kargyu Sects are extremely reticent about showing their yogic skills. In fact this is rarely, if ever, done at all. Lama Phunstok told me that he had been extremely worried; he had hesitated and fretted a good deal before finally and very reluctantly proceeding to Dharamsala. In the end he had felt it was simply not possible to decline a request coming from H.H.Dalai Lama Himself! Soon after he had completed the formalities of arriving in that town, he found himself on a platform in one of the Dalai Lama's meeting halls surrounded by a large group of well dressed, highly educated scholars from Harvard University. They had been invited to Dharamsala by His Holiness in order to witness, first hand, some of the more elusive and lesser known aspects of Tibetan yoga practices, among other things. Confronted with this hard nosed and highly sceptical group,Lama Phuntsok certainly did not feel comfortable about demonstrating his secret skills, in fact he was more reluctant than ever, wondering if he had made a very terrible mistake in coming. It was only out of deference to the Dalai Lama that he ever managed to proceed with the demonstration at all. With considerable misgiving, but finally resigned to go through with the process, no matter what, Lama Phuntsok closed his eyes and prayed to his Master. Then he slowly and steadily proceeded through the various preliminary stages of his practice routine. A high tech video recorder was set up right in front him and purred away. A mechanical eye, amid the curious, burning, focused gazes of all those present. Remembering his Master and focusing on the visualizations that accompanied his preparations, he soon lost track of the time, the people, the atmosphere and even the room. Presently his body was floating freely in mid-space, defying all the norms of accepted science, gravity and physics. He remained there for some time and then in due course returned to the platform and to his normal state, suddenly becoming aware that he was the focus of a stunned and silent crowd. No one moved; no one spoke. There was pin drop silence. The atmosphere was so charged that if a match had been struck at that moment, he felt, the whole room may well have burst into flames!

Presently the Dalai Lama shuffled and cleared his throat. The spell was broken and a big commotion ensued. Men clad in suits and ties clamoured towards him, some of the woman had tears in their eyes, several people were bowing and prostrating themselves before him. His 'display' had obviously made a very profound impression on all those who were present and would, no doubt, provide much data and material for their researches and future investigations. He felt a bit overwhelmed by all the fuss and just longed to get away, back to his little mud house in the mountains among the wildflowers and the pure, bubbling springs. Casting his bright gaze my way, the Lama stopped talking for a moment but he had a special light in his eyes. 'You know' he said, 'we undergo years of disciplined training in order to achieve certain results. We may study for a life time. We may stay in retreats for years and years but the most important thing a spiritual seeker has to learn is compassion and the root of compassion is the ability to see the oneness of all living things. Love is our true nature, realized Masters cannot differentiate between beings because they see themselves in everyone and everything. Where there is no separate self, there is only the ONE SELF.' His tale and in particular his words to me near the end of our conversation made a very deep impression on my mind. I was so new to the wonders and possibilities of the spiritual path at that time. My mind was very impressionable and open. In such a state one can easily be led astray by things that may appear to be amazing and yet in many ways, may in fact be little more than distracting. Therefore I bow down with gratitude to this unassuming Lama who had such a simple and yet profound message. It seems that the simplest truths are the ones most often overlooked and yet they also remain the most easily understood and the most accessible. Back to the Top

3 Hidden Valleys of the Himalayas.

Eastern Himalayas.

Throughout the Himalayas there are valleys, hidden oases and special places of refuge. The trails which lead to them are known only to a few. These places are said to be blessed and consecrated by 'holy beings', guarded by invisible forces and carefully protected in order to preserve their sanctity and usefulness as sanctuaries and refuges in times of human and planetary strife. There are a number of them scattered along the Himalayan mountain belt, from the fabled land of Pemako in Arunachal Pradesh in the far east to the western reaches of this long range of mountains. In recent times a Lama from Tibet tried to open one of these valleys near Kangchendzonga, a vast mountain which dominates the horizon to the north of Darjeeling, in West Bengal. He had several hundred followers all of whom had sold their worldly belongings, bringing with them only the possessions they could carry. All believed that the Lama would lead them into a sacred valley where they could begin a new life. A number of other Lamas including Dudjom Rinpoche and my own teacher, Chadral Rinpoche, warned him that the time had not yet come for this particular valley to be opened and that they faced grave danger in going. However, none of their warnings or advice was heeded. The Lama and his flock made the perilous trek into the mountains. After several

days of arduous climbing they reached a place that was right at the threshold of the entrance to the sacred valley. There, the Lama entered a cave where he and his attendants began to perform the pacifying rituals which summon the guardians and open the way into the protected area. While this ceremony was taking place a huge avalanche swept down off the mountain burying all those inside the cave as well as many of the group who had been waiting outside. Miraculously all were able somehow to scramble to safety although a number of them were seriously injured, but the Lama did not survive. Of all who were present, he alone died. The avalanche and the repercussions of this tragedy wiped out all their hopes and dreams of a better life. They were forced to return to civilization without their leader, their dreams of a new and better life completely shattered. The Hidden Valleys can only be approached and entered at the proper times and with the coincidence of many auspicious signs. They must be opened by a 'Being' who has the authority and permission of the greater powers that be. Unless one is 'welcomed,' entry, whether by intention or by accident, can be very perilous. Just recently it was reported that the last living 'priest' who knew the special prayers and ceremonies to be offered to the sacred Mountain of Kangchendzonga passed away, without having trained a successor. He died suddenly in the massive earthquake that shook the region right near the base of this mountain in October of 2010. In the tiny Himalayan state of Sikkim, this huge mountain has been revered as a 'sacred realm' for countless centuries by the local population. Kanchendzonga, translates roughly as the Temple containing Five Treasures. Legend has it that within the mountain there are enormous underground caverns which are the repositories of previous human civilizations and which, in case of planetary disturbances, are protected for the use of future civilizations in times of need. There are many mysteries contained within the vast chain of the Himalayan Mountains. Back to the Top

4
Beasty.

Sign near the Hindu/Buddhist Temple in Darjeeling

In the summer of 1999 we had a rather unwelcome visitor in the place where I was staying near the small village of Godavari. This place nestles in a corner on the south eastern rim of the Kathmandu valley. She had been welcome at first, but soon made herself very unwelcome and quite notorious at almost every house in the village. At that time I was renting a spacious flat on the top floor of a private dwelling which overlooked the compound and gardens where my teacher, Chadral Rinpoche, often came to enjoy some quiet hours with His family members and close students. I had come here to pass the summer months studying various Buddhist tomes and to spend time meditating in my rooms and also in many of the nooks and crannies in His delightful garden next door. Most of the week Godavary was a peaceful, secluded and pleasant village at the end of a long and quiet road. But during the two days of each weekend it became a bustling metropolis as town people rode, drove or bussed out from the capital Kathmandu, to bask in the springs or wander about in the botanical gardens nearby.

When this particular visitor arrived in the middle of the week, our normal midweek, peaceful existence was shattered. All this disruption appeared in the rather innocuous guise of a small, female, rhesus monkey. A few of us were gathered around Rinpoche on the upper terrace of his gardens one morning when we were surprised to see a furry head pop up over the wall not far from where we were gathered After appraising us for a few moments she climbed onto the wall and then dropped down into the gardens, scampering quite fearlessly over to our little party. Without further ado she cautiously extended her hand towards the plate of fruit that had been placed on a small table in front of Rinpoche. He chuckled and picked up a banana which she immediately accepted with great decorum. She then seated herself comfortably and proceeded to carefully peel and eat it with the utmost delicacy while we all gazed on in high amusement. I should mention here, that while monkeys are very common in certain parts of the Kathmandu valley, they are rarely seen in other parts, as was very much the case in Godavary. To my surprise, Rinpoche announced in His booming, deep voice, that this monkey should be caught and kept on a long leash inside the compound. We were all rather surprised by this, as he seldom ever agreed to keep pets in any of his places unless they were sick and in need of care. Even then, this was ever only the most temporary arrangement. He assigned this particular and unusual task to one of the Lamas in our group, who then set about devising various ways to catch her. Over the next few days the Lama could be seen following her all around the village, trying to befriend her and then sneakily slip a bridle over her but she would always outwit him. I would see them sitting side by side as companionably as two old friends dozing in the sunshine. All the time however, while he was pretending to be dozing off himself, Lama would be stealthily easing the little bridle he had made, nearer and nearer. But just when he would make his move, she would leap up, standing on her two hind legs, just far enough away to be out of reach. Then she would curl her lips back and show him her teeth in a very irritating grin that was peculiarly all her own. He persisted with this futile mission for three long days until, finally, he tossed the bridle away and gave up with a sigh and a giggle. Under ordinary circumstances he

would never have been so persistent, but then, Rinpoche's word, was law! After that she would tease him endlessly, dropping by to sit near him where ever he happened to be and then attentively and with a show of great concentration begin to groom him in the sociable way that monkeys do this rather necessary work among themselves. But she never, ever, let her guard down. So, although he had quite given up the affair as hopeless, she continued to place herself tantalizingly near, so that he could never quite give up hope of someday nabbing her unawares. She was extremely intelligent in a very mischievous way and I recall how, one day, she moseyed unassumingly into his room, appearing to sit innocently just inside the door frame, out of harms way. She sat there quietly for some minutes, during which time she deposited a nice little yellow puddle with a pancake in the middle

Beastly little Beasty.

of it. After accomplishing this bit of work she then quickly scampered on out again and grinned impishly at him from a safe distance. However, Lama was not the only person troubled by Beasty, as she had come to be known by that time. She visited almost every home in the village of Godavari,

leaving behind extraordinary scenes of devastation. She would wait quietly in the trees, watching for the inhabitants to leave and then she would seize her chance. On several occasions she also visited me and I remember how, early one morning while I was meditating, she managed to quietly prize open a window in the kitchen. She then found my hand bag, unzipped it and removed the purse. After this, she was seen sliding down the drain pipes with my wallet firmly clasped between her teeth. It was lucky for me that her departure had not gone unnoticed. One of my neighbours had spotted her descent and noting the wallet in her mouth, quickly alerted me and then set off after her in hot pursuit. When we finally recovered the discarded item, most of its contents had been chewed and dribbled over or else tossed away. Another time, she decided to visit me at night. She stretched herself out comfortably on the mat just outside my bedroom door and proceeded to make a remarkably annoying scraping sound using the nail of her little right thumb. She managed this by stroking the mat back and forth, thereby hitting her nail against the small rubber knobs. She continued to amuse herself in this way hour after hour. Whenever I got up to drive her away, she would stealthily slip back in and resume her antics, right at the moment when I would be drifting off into the happy forgetfulness of sleep. In this way, she almost drove me to desperation. I began to wonder if she was in fact really a monkey and not some little devil, sent to try my nerves. In Nepal, monkeys are regarded as sacred animals and therefore tolerated in most places with a rather large store of patience. However, it is also believed in some Buddhist circles that demons will often visit certain people in their retreat places in the guise of various animals or other sorts of outer disturbances in order to create obstacles and shake up the practitioner during his or her retreat. As the days wore on, I began to wonder more and more about this. Then one day while I was out, she squeezed herself through a very narrow opening into my kitchen and singlehandedly decimated the entire store of food that I had carefully kept there as supplies for the duration of my retreat. When I returned home I found unimaginable mayhem, with every packet torn open, the lids of containers ripped off, everything mushed together. Oil was splattered all over the place and what had not been eaten or nibbled had been trampled or urinated on. She even got into my secret stash of costly chocolate bars and left me with nothing but the mutilated wrappers! At this point I began to consider her an incarnation of the very she devil herself.

What thoroughly decided it for me was her final visit. On that occasion she pried open a closed window in my room, tore off the wire mosquito netting and then proceeded to put her sticky little fingers into every precious thing on my shrine. Then as a parting gift she smeared her slimy bottom over the pillow on my bed, before climbing back out of the window. This time I caught her just as she was about to exit, but she merely scampered onto the ledge, just out of reach and flashed me her impish, toothy grin. She had tormented me so relentlessly that I could not imagine how she would find time to cause mischief anywhere else and yet reports were coming in from far and wide. She appeared to have almost magical powers and could squeeze herself through impossibly small openings and in this manner found her way into homes thought to be monkey proof. She then left her trade mark calling card to await the return of the hapless inhabitants. Many times I would hear a sudden ruckus in one of the homes nearby, or a low wail as a new scene of devastation was discovered. Eventually the locals had had enough. One morning I heard shouting on the street below and I leaned out of my window to take a peek. Beasty was scampering up the road with a trail of irate villagers tailing her, all of them wielding weapons of various sorts. Some had pots, others sticks and one optimistic fellow even had a sack! After weeks of monkey madness, these good folk had finally reached the limit of their patience. They were determined to catch her and expel her from their village, come what may. It took them most of the morning, but eventually, she was cornered and unceremoniously sacked and then a few of the men took her off down a road which led through the botanical gardens and continued on to the next village. Here, in true Nepali style, they quietly released the little villain in some bushes on the outskirts of this small unsuspecting hamlet and well pleased with this bit of devious work, headed back on home. As legend would have it, Beasty wreaked havoc on the good folk of our neighbouring village and was in due course also expelled from there. She slowly and famously made her way down an extensive swathe of the Kathmandu valley, until finally ending up at the zoo, where I last heard, she had become a resident and was doing well. Back to the Top