Stories When the Light Fades

Series: Halloween

Stories when the Light Fades

At this time of year, when the light fades, I am reminded of the days when my master, his khandroma, and his monks would spend many a vigil telling stories. The stories that came up most often, much like the fantastical tales of Jack-o’-lantern, were those about my master, Alags Chörten, as recounted by the others. He would laugh heartily at each one as if to say that they could have happened—or not—and that, in any case, it didn’t matter because they were long gone.

“What I remember most is my master’s laughter.”

One such story was the one recalled by the monk Akeu Dargyai (Acho Thargyé in Lhasa dialect), about the time when Alags had been invited by a relative to celebrate Tibetan New Year at their home. He had, of course, accepted because he never said no. But the next day, another relative asked him to do the same thing at the same time. My master agreed! On New Year’s Eve, the first relative called the second to apologize for “monopolizing” Alags. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then the second relative said, “Not at all. Alags is here with us, eating!” The first relative replied, “That’s not possible. He’s here, sitting comfortably in his chair, talking to the family.” Stories of healing, discoveries of “treasures,” and “special activities” often came up in the conversations. For example, there was Alags’ ability to produce blessing cords (Tib. soungku, srung skud, or “protective cord”: soungdu, srung mdud) spontaneously by putting a thread in his mouth and slightly turning his tongue. A cord with three to five knots would always emerge. Sometimes he would place the thread on the head of the intended person, and the knots would form automatically. I was fortunate—or perhaps I had “good karma”—to witness some of these stories firsthand. What I remember most is my master’s laughter.

See you next year on the same date for more stories when the light fades.