What sort of king are you, anyway?

Paltrül was teaching in Dzam-thang. The people there appreciated what he said to them, and they tried to give him presents. He re-directed these gifts as was his wont and left with only one object – that was to become an unusual catalyst of change. Of the gifts, he gave goods to the poor people and financial donations to those engaged in religious craft work. The one gift he kept was given him by an old man – a special gift, a silver ornament made to the exact shape and size of a horse’s hoof! “What a thing! Paltrül exclaimed. “What – a – thing!” He realised that this was an important moment for the old man, so Paltrül confided quietly, “This will accomplish much more than you imagine.” True to his word, he took the hoof with him when he left Dzam-thang – even though its weight was not a welcome addition to his bag. The old man was overjoyed that Paltrül had accepted his gift, and as a result applied himself to practise with enormous dedication. It was said later that he became an accomplished practitioner as a result of the inspiration of Paltrül accepting his offering.

Things being as they are, there was a thief in the audience by the name of Gyalpo. Now Gyalpo means ‘king’, and this impoverished monarch noticed the silver horse’s hoof. As soon as he clapped eyes on it, his mind started buzzing with ideas. He thought of a wealthy Golok chieftain to whom such a things might be desirable. What he would pay for such a thing! Gyalpo was as surprised as were some of the monks present when Paltrül hoofed it with the silver hoof. They’d expected him to give it away along with all the other gifts. It was then that Gyalpo decided to relieve Paltrül of its weight in some desolate place a few days walk out of Dzam-thang.

Once Paltrül had concluded his dealing in Dzam-thang, he took off into the hills, and it was a few days before Gyalpo found him. Paltrül was asleep when the would-be robber crept up on him, but he was not unaware of Gyalpo or his intention. The thief stealthily investigated Paltrül’s bundle in search of the ingot – but nothing was to be found. Paltrül, recognising that the pilferer was frustrated, said: “It’s back at the last place you watched me light a fire. I’d have thought you would have found it there – it was easy enough to see.” Then he sat up. He looked carefully at Gyalpo, asking in disbelief “What sort of king are you anyway? I guess you must be a king though – you’re too damn timid to be a demon. [‘Gyalpo’ means king, but it also refers to a class of demon. Gyalpo demons are often the re-births of spiritual practitioners who have perverted the teachings to uncompassionate ends.] You’ll have to do a bit better than this if you want to make a living out of larceny.” Gyalpo jumped back surprised. He was perplexed by Paltrül, but demanded “Cut the guff joker, where have you hidden that damn horse hoof! I saw the old man give it you – I want it, and I want it now!” Paltrül laughed “Dear me... you poor fellow, what a miserable mess your life is.” The robber was annoyed and slightly bewildered by Paltrül’s attitude, but also a little curious, “Whadya mean by that, you jerk-off!” he shouted “These hill-billies may think you’re a big shot, but you’re not a real Lama! You’re just a ragged old fart who can shoot his mouth off!” Paltrül smiled “That’s as may be, my lad, but the fact remains that the silver’s there waiting for you back where I last camped. It’s got no value for me, so you’re welcome to it. But come now – why run around like a lunatic chasing dreams of wealth that won’t last? That old Golok horse lord won’t give you the price you want, and you’ll be short-changed from here to Amdo, as like as not. It won’t be a month before it’s all gone, and then where will you be? What’s the use in that? Think about it. Have you ever made out with this kind of deal before?” Gyalpo, all the while Paltrül was speaking, was scurrying around in a frenzy, hunting in every crevice. Where could that crafty old con artist have hidden that ingot? It was only when he had exhausted every option, along with himself, that he sat down and began to weep. “I’ve never had anything! I’ll never have anything! I’ll never amount to anything! I’m not even a successful criminal!” Paltrül shook his head sadly and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Yah, yah, that’s the way of it my friend, but never mind – there are other ways of occupying your life...” Gyalpo looked wretched. “Come now,” Paltrül added, “just take a walk back there down the valley and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Gyalpo looked confused. “Come on now!”, Paltrül repeated, “If you leave now you’ll get there by dawn. I left that useless lump of silver in the ashes of the fire.” Gyalpo looked up at him with a mixture of hope, despair, and vague remorse. “Really?” he enquired – “Really!” replied Paltrül, “... if that is what you want. But is that – what – you – want?” The thief nodded. “This isn’t a trick?” But Paltrül laughed: “What’s there to trick?” The thief took the situation in for a moment, and said that he would ascertain the veracity of Paltrül’s story, and that if the silver wasn’t here, he would come looking for him. “Well, my friend, you may do that anyway – you know how it is ... although, before you go there’s something I’d like to tell you.” Gyalpo looked at his unusual prospective benefactor cautiously: “Tell away then.” Paltrül fixed his eyes and stated in slow even tones, “Well... king or demon or whatever you are – this hoof may well be exactly what you think you want – but I’m damn sure it’s not what you need. One day you’ll realise that you need the teachings more than you want this silver horse’s hoof... But in the mean time,” Paltrül yawned, “... go get what you – think – you – want... ”

Gyalpo left and went to find Paltrül’s last campfire. He walked through the night, and in the morning he found the place Paltrül described. There was the campfire, and in the ashes he found the ingot. Gyalpo leapt in the air for joy: “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he shouted when he laid his hands on it. He sat down and gazed at it lovingly. He rubbed off the ash and shone up the silver on his ragged sleeve. He watched the metal begin to glitter as he rubbed away the ash. It really was a large piece of silver – he was in no doubt about that. He began to think about the deal with the Golok chief, and the rich reward he’d get. But then the words of Paltrül came back to him:

“That old Golok horse lord won’t give you the price you want, and you’ll be short-changed from here to Amdo as like as not. It won’t be a month before it’s all gone, and then where will you be?”

This was an unpleasant thought. He had been down that road before. How could he be sure that old Golok horseman wouldn’t swindle him? How could he be sure that those Goloks wouldn’t just waylay him on the road and take their lord’s money back? This was not going to be as easy as he thought... then he started thinking about Paltrül – that old Lama really did jettison the silver... Then he thought of the abusive language he’d thrown at Paltrül: “These hill-billies may think you’re a big-shot, but you’re not a real Lama! You’re just a ragged old fart who can shoot his mouth off!” Paltrül was evidently the real thing. Gyalpo began to feel very sad and confused. The pattern of his life started moving through his mind, and there wasn’t much to it that looked like anything. Then in the next moment he broke down and wept. “Worse and worse!” he cried, “This Dza Paltrül really is a great being, and I’m just a mouldering turd! What use is this damn horse’s hoof anyway!” The knowledge that the hoof could make him rich for a while, but that he’d only become poor again, seemed somehow too poignant. His life seemed futile and worthless. “Better for me that I try to be like Dza Paltrül. He doesn’t seem to need anything to be happy!”

Gyalpo left. He grabbed the ingot and walked without stopping until he had caught up with Paltrül. By the time Gyalpo found him, his feet were raw and blistered. The ingot of silver had started to feel like a massive weight, but something in him had determined that he was going to take it back.

Paltrül had some sense of Gyalpo’s approach, and sat down to await his arrival. When he arrived, Paltrül exclaimed, “Hey! How the hell are you, king demon! What pushes you on at such a lick – you must have walked your feet off to catch up with me again.” Then is a soft voice he added “Y’know... you’ll drive yourself insane with this senseless galloping! Didn’t you find that hoof?” Gyalpo was gasping with the effort of this sleepless trek but managed to blurt out “Yeah I found it, and I’ve brought it back to you. It’s a bloody nuisance! I just needed to tell you that I don’t want it any more.” Paltrül smiled at him “What do you want, then king demon?” With those words Gyalpo threw the ingot into the river and said: “I want you to teach me what I have to do to be like you!” The two men laughed heartily together, as the hoof bounced down the hill toward the torrent below. “Now you’re free man for the first time in your life, king demon!” Paltrül was happy to give Gyalpo the teachings he requested, and sent him off to practice them.

Gyalpo, after being beaten up a couple of times by victims of previous thefts, went on to be a great practitioner. When Paltrül heard that Gyalpo was being beaten up by people who caught up with him, he promptly issued a severe warning to all who respected him: “If you harm my disciple you harm me! He was once a thief but now he’s a yogi – leave him be!”