On the last day of the Kagyu Prayer Festival in Bodh Gaya, India several years ago, a very dramatic death occurred that spurred much talk and speculation. While it seems there is always some sort of tragedy occurring in Bodhgaya during the winter season, what with huge crowds descending on the tiny town in the dangerous state of Bihar, this one was different. The very nature of it was so dark and brutal that it caused tremors of fear and disgust to spread like wildfire throughout the small town. And it was especially strange that it happened so close to the Mahabodhi Stupa itself, where Buddhist prayers for World Peace had been chanted non-stop from dawn to dusk for days on end. It seemed cruelly incongruous that such a negative act as cold-blooded murder could have occurred in public, in daylight, in the proximity of that spiritual gathering.
In the hours and days that followed, acquaintances and strangers alike shared stories, trying to piece together the facts in order to determine exactly what had happened. But because everything was shared by word of mouth, it was hard to know for sure what was true, or to get to the bottom of things; rumors were flying left and right. Stories morphed one into another, but three important questions lingered: Who had been killed? Why? And by whom?
Although I heard many versions of the story, I didn’t actually find out the truth about the matter until the day I left Bodhgaya, a couple of weeks later. But in those early days of shock and trauma, most of the versions of the story I heard shared at least these common points:
- The death involved a dharma practitioner wearing Tibetan Buddhist robes. The motive of the killing was robbery.
- The death occurred at early dusk while the person was practicing Chöd in an ancient charnel ground, in a secluded area adjacent to the Stupa entrance.
- The practitioner was attacked, robbed, stabbed, doused with petrol, set on fire, and then left to burn to death.
As days went by, the stories took on a life of their own. Some said that the victim was a nun. Some said he was a monk. Some said he was young; some said he was old. Apparently the victim was found dead, sitting in full lotus posture. Some said that the victim was a practitioner so highly advanced that he/she spontaneously self-combusted while sitting in full vajra posture, instantly attaining the state of Arhat.
(This particular rumor was allegedly perpetrated by a somewhat prominent rinpoche and because of that quickly gained ground). Some of us went to the site of the crime, to see if there were any clues. By the time I got there, the body had already been taken away by the Indian police and all that was left were straggly wisps of charred grass at the site where the victim had succumbed.
Some people talked to the police and saw photos of the remains. Copies of these were even passed around. Still, there were no official police reports that detailed who the victim or the perpetrators were.
It wasn’t until I left Bodhgaya a couple of weeks later, sharing a jeep with a monk acquaintance, that I learned the truth of this very Rashoman-style scenario. My acquaintance told me that his good friend was the roommate of the Bhutanese lama who had been murdered and burned in the charnel ground. The monk was cooking their evening meal in the small room they shared near the Kalachakra fair grounds. His elderly Bhutanese friend had gone to practice Chöd at the charnel ground next to the Stupa. Usually he practiced in the same spot every afternoon and then returned to their room for dinner, just as dusk turned to nightfall.
On this twilit evening, one of many, he must have successfully summoned the demons and spirits with his practice because they definitely came. On this occasion though, they seemed to get the better of him. When he did not return home in time for dinner, his roommate went to the charnel ground to look for him, and saw the police examining the body. The monk sadly identified the charred remains as his roommate and the police removed the body from the site.
So I learned what really happened as I was leaving Bodhgaya. The reason for the killing was robbery, but ironically the Chödpa Lama had very little money on his person. According to his roommate, his killers murdered a Buddhist holy man for a pittance—a few rupees.
To this day, that event still haunts me: the tragic death of that earnest practitioner, the savagery of the act itself, and the cascade of rumors that took on a life of their own in the aftermath. Maybe it affected me so powerfully because it raised an important question about spiritual practice. I wondered, was the Chödpa able to die a relatively peaceful death in spite of the pernicious, violent attack on his person? Was he able to overcome his anger and his fear as the demons descended upon him, demanding he forfeit his money and his very life force?
How much of what happened was a random coincidence, and how much of it was his karma or destiny? Most of all, I’m left with a certain admiration for his bravery: he dared to practice Chöd in that spiritually charged ancient charnel ground in very the heart of the diamond seat–Bodh Gaya. And I am reminded that all of our deaths are looming on the horizon, sooner or later, waiting to test us.
