-CHAPTER THIRTEEN-
The Vajra

Often after a storm massive boulders broke free from the mountainside and came crashing down to end up at the backside of the Institute. Fortunately, they always stopped short of crashing through the building thanks to the terrace we had built around the back. Small stones, however, often showered down onto the roof. One day while inspecting the stones that had fallen the night before; I noticed a very unusual flat stone that had fallen next to the back door. For me this was very prophetic, as the stone seemed to have the shape of a Vajra. I picked the stone up, and found that, indeed, it had the shape of the Vajra, the Thunderbolt of Indra, wherewith he slew the demon Vritta. The Vajra is a very sacred implement in Tibetan Buddhism, and is called in Tibetan "rDorje" which also means diamond. It is also a weapon against demons and evil spirits. Every Tibetan monk owns a Vajra, and they are used in every Puja and ceremony. This was a very auspicious and symbolic discovery, and I decided then to make my Vihara into a Vajrayana temple, even though it was not built in the Tibetan architectural style.
My Vietnamese friend, who always visited me on Saturday and Sunday, was astounded over the rare find, Everyone agreed that the stone was indeed in the shape of a Vajra: a rare find, and an auspicious omen.
One night I was awakened by a loud din emanating from the rear of the Vihara; a cacophony of hisses snarls and growls. At first I thought that a pack of dogs were fighting outside the kitchen door, but then I realized it must be some other animal. I thought that perhaps it was cats, but the din was too loud. Fritz had disappeared last week, and I had meanwhile been "adopted" by another cat, and I feared that something had happened to her. I got out of bed, took my flashlight, and went into the kitchen. I opened the back door, which led to the rear of the temple. The brilliant beam of the flashlight illuminated two huge green eyes: the eyes of a tiger! I was breathless; the tiger held my cat in his mouth! I stood still, but was ready to spring back into the kitchen in case the tiger decided to trade victims. I held the light steadily in his eyes. Suddenly I had the foolish idea of roaring like a lion. Perhaps I could scare the dangerous predator into fleeing. I took a deep breath and let out a roar that would have made Tarzan take notice. The tiger (he appeared to be a young one) dropped the cat from his mouth, and fled in terror back into the bush. The cat shook up but unharmed, fled past me into the kitchen, where she hid for the next two days.
It was hard to believe that there were tigers here, so close to the city. Perhaps the animal was driven from the mountains by the fighting, and had no other place to go. As I said, the tiger appeared to be a young one, but still dangerous.
Two days later I heard that a tiger had attacked an American in a jeep as he went down a Mountain road. He shot the tiger with his automatic rifle, and took the dead animal with him to show his comrades. What a mighty hunter he was! This was the first time in memory that a tiger had been found in this location. Hopefully it was the last. The animal had not attacked any other people, and was perhaps starving. This may account for the disappearance of my cat Fritz, and many others.

-CHAPTER FOURTEEN-
An American Becomes a Buddhist

In January of 1972 the old lady that lived below the Vihara went back to Saigon to stay with her daughter. She was suffering from as very bad cold. A week later I heard that she had died, and received a Buddhist funeral. She was cremated, as were all Buddhist monks, nuns, and recluses. In the Vietnam of this era, only these were allowed the rite of cremation, all lay Buddhists being forced to undergo burial. This was by virtue of a decree from the President, Nguyen Van Thieu, who was a Catholic. He had ordered that during his regime all dead would be buried instead of being cremated. No doubt he used this order only to harass the Buddhist clergy. Thieu was originally a Buddhist, but evidently one of those who followed the religion in name only, not really knowing anything about it. His wife was a Catholic, and had persuaded him to also become one (probably as a condition of the marriage). Thieu always appeared to me to be a mere puppet in the hands of his wife, exactly as the former dictator Diem was to his Sister-in-law, Madam Nhu.
The house in which the religious lady had lived in for nearly two years was now empty. A few days before my arrest in August of 1975, the owner of the house presented it to me. I wanted to fix it up and use it as a classroom for the Institute, but I never had the chance, as the reader will soon discover.
A fervent Buddhist from My-tho visited me often, arriving in his jeep. He had absolutely no fear, either of the Viet Cong or the Americans. Every Sunday I gave instruction to him and other Buddhists from Saigon and Vung Tau. I taught the classes partly in English, partly in French. My Vietnamese was never very good, as due to my partial deafness I could not hear the many tones that comprise the language. One Sunday a lay disciple arrived with three of his friends. They had brought a sapling Bodhi Tree (Ficus Religiosa), the tree of Enlightenment. Every Buddhist temple in South East Asia has at least one of these trees in its garden as a remembrance of the tree in Bodh Gaya (India) under which the Buddha attained Enlightenment. I planted the sapling on the side of the Vihara. (And it is still flourishing at the writing of this (1999-Ed.)
Somewhat later I received an unexpected visit from an American Sergeant in his field uniform. Along with him were his very beautiful and intelligent Vietnamese wife and several other ladies. The ladies bowed to me three times, as is the custom in the Orient when meeting a monk, and then three times before the Buddha statue in the shrine room. I stood to the left of the altar in my yellow robe and struck the gong at each bow. The ladies folded their hands before their faces, and bowed deeply before the Buddha statue; a very charming and graceful picture.
Afterwards, I invited the Sergeant into the reception room for a cup of tea, and found that he had been interested in Buddhism for several years, and wanted very much to study the religion systematically, and become a Buddhist. He was soon to retire from the military service, having completed his twenty -year stint, and had seen enough of war and man's inhumanity to man. He had served in the Korean War, and had been stationed in Germany for several years, mainly in Bavaria.
He spoke fluent German, albeit with a Bavarian accent, so we conversed at length in my native tongue. His wife also spoke fluent English, having worked for the Americans for seven of eight years. She had resigned from her civil service job shortly before their marriage.
The sergeant had an interesting tale to tell. It seems that he had spent a long time in the field as an Infantry Advisor to the Vietnamese Army, spending usually four to six weeks in the bush before returning to the base camp in Sadec (Mekong Delta). As the stress of his activity built up, he became more and more agitated, finding little rest, even in the rear area. The compound in which he stayed had a small Buddhist shrine in one corner, evidently one of great antiquity. He started going to the shrine often late at night to burn incense and pray, picking this time so as to be inconspicuous, there being much prejudice against Buddhists in the Army. One night he entered the shrine, and reached for an incense stick from the can at the side of the altar. As he touched the can, he heard a loud hiss. He was frightened, but had a feeling that he would be protected by . . . someone. He took a stick out of the can, struck a match to light it, and found a large black cobra coiled around the incense can.
As he lit the incense, the cobra deflated its hood, and glided out of the shrine and into the night. From that time on, he said, stress didn't bother him, and he was thoroughly convinced of the truth of the Buddha's teaching.
Through the Sergeant more Americans became aware of my Institute, and I was visited by many, including an American Black man who came one day with his Vietnamese wife. He had just returned to civilian life, and was working in Vietnam.
The Sergeant returned after a few weeks, this time in civilian clothes. He had retired from the Army, and was now on vacation prior to his going to work for the American Telephone Company. He wanted to use the time to study Buddhism systematically with me. He came every day for a few hours. I first taught his Theravada Buddhism that is to so-called original Buddhism as taught by the Theravada sect.
Let me digress here, and clarify a few points, especially for the non-Buddhist reader. There are many schools of Buddhism, but for the sake of brevity I will explain the major differences between the major ones. Theravada translated actually means "The Way of the Elders," and is the older, original Order of Buddhism (according to its followers.) Originally this sect was one of the eighteen sects that comprised the Hinayana (Small Vehicle) branch of Buddhism. Hinayana, because it concerns the attainment of Enlightenment for the individual, rather than for all beings as does the Mahayana (Great Vehicle). All of the other sects of the Hinayana have died out. Theravada was brought to Sri Lanka (Ceylon) by the son of the famous Indian King Asoka about two hundred years after the Buddha's death, and survives there to this day. Buddhist missionaries have brought it to other countries such as Burma, Cambodia, Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. Theravada is still, in spite of many modifications, a living spiritual power that people can rely upon. The Pali Canon, that is the Tripitaka (Three Baskets of Learning) was first written down in 29 AD. Prior to that time the monks were required to commit it to memory. It is the only complete existing Buddhist canon, and the Theravadans claim it is the original, unchanged, pure teaching of the Buddha. This is possible, but not certain. As long as we do not have the original canons of the other sects, the originality of the Pali Canon remains a point of contention among Buddhist scholars. There is no Sanskrit Canon similar to the Pali, but there are thousands of translations from the Sanskrit in Tibetan and Chinese.

I gave Mr. Alexander (The former Sergeant) the first Ordination as an Upasaka, that is a Buddhist Layman. A Layman is required (by our tradition) to obey at least Five Precepts, and to take either eight or ten on Buddhist holidays. The Precepts are:

1. To avoid taking the life of any sentient being.
2. To abstain from taking anything that is not freely given (stealing)
3. To abstain from sexual misconduct (Adultery, etc.)
4. To abstain from lying and tale bearing (gossip, etc).
5. To abstain from taking alcoholic beverages or drugs that effect the mind.
6. To abstain from taking food at the wrong time.
7. To abstain from dancing, singing, music and unseemly shows
8. To abstain form using high and luxurious beds and seats
9. To abstain from the use of garlands, unguents, perfumes and other adornments
10. To abstain from handling money and gold.

The first five basic precepts are binding at all times in our tradition. The remainder are taken upon special occasions, at the option of the disciple.
I gave my new disciple a Sanskrit Buddhist name. I was a Guru (teacher) of an American, and he was the Chela (Disciple) of A German Buddhist High Priest. The short ceremony I conducted for the Ordination was in Pali, Sanskrit, Tibetan and English. The wife of my student was also present, and took part in the ceremony before the Altar. From the day of his ordination Mr. Alexander was known to me as Chela Taranatha (Tara = Star, Natha = Lord). I gave him this name to honor the once famous Tibetan Lama and Historian Taranatha, who compiled a history of Buddhism in tenth century Tibet.

-CHAPTER FIFTEEN-

The Invisible Ghost

About a month later another very strange thing happened. I lay on my cot, unable to sleep. My eyes were wide open, although the room was in almost total darkness. My new cat lay beside me; as I stroked his black fur, he purred contentedly. Then, suddenly, his fur stood on end' he hissed and ran from the room at full tilt. In the same instant I felt ice-cold air settle over me, even though the door and window were closed, and I had been sleeping without a blanket due to the heat. Now I felt something cold grasp me and try to enter my body through my mouth! I understood instantly. A spirit was trying to take over my body! I struggled, and finally said a Sanskrit protective mantra. The icy ghost disappeared instantly. I did not feel elated, however. I instinctively felt that the spirit had been female, and that she had tried to possess me. Then suddenly I smelled a delicate scent of a French perfume, or was it merely an illusion? As one can imagine, I had difficulty sleeping the rest of the night, rather I kept watch. I could not be sure that the ghost wouldn't try again.
The next day was again very hot, but from time to time I again felt the icy coldness around me, or on my arms. The ghost! A sweet perfume filled the air confirming my suspicion. I sat at my table, trying to ignore the spirit, but she would not leave me alone, and I could not drive her out. Actually, I didn't want to; rather I sought to contact her. I spoke out loud in French: no answer. I tried English, and this time the answer seemed to appear in my head. The ghost said: "I am Miss Nguyen Thi Mai-Lan, I died three years ago."
I replied: "Where? And why?"
"Near Vung Tau. I tried to abort my child, and died in the attempt, or better said, my body died, but I still live, sadly."
"So, it is correct that there is in actuality no death?"
"Yes, that is true. I can vouch for that. Before my death I had laughed at such things; I was a student, and thought I was very modern in my viewpoint. My ideas originated in France and America."
I questioned further: "How old are you now?"
"Around twenty-four," she answered.
"Was the father of your child perhaps an American?"
"Yes, and it was because of this that I wanted to abort it. I used a long needle. I stabbed the fetus and myself as well. I was so clumsy. I bled to death during the night."
"How do you feel in your present condition?" I asked.
"Very miserable; in fact, I wish I could die. But I have heard from other spirits that one cannot die, one is reborn whether one wants it or not."
I questioned the spirit wider: "Why have you come to me? Why did you try to possess me yesterday?"
With a long sigh, she answered: "I had the compulsion to contact you. I know that you have no fear of ghosts, and you are a Buddhist monk."
"Yes," I answered, "but you can see that we can converse anyway."
I continued my line of questioning: "Why is it that I always feel cold air, and smell perfume when you are near me?"
"I don't know," she replied, "but I have always loved perfumes, especially French. Perhaps that is the reason the scent follows me. Also, we have neither flesh nor blood, this is the reason for the cold. We have a very fine astral body that you cannot see, fortunately, as I am naked."
"Why is that?" I replied, astounded. "All of the ghosts that I have seen up to now were fully clothed, seen in the clothes that they died in."
The ghost of Mai-Lan laughed: "So is it. I had nothing on when I died. My parents and my brother found me like that. It was horrible!"
"Can you make yourself visible?" I asked.
"No, that I cannot do. It has something to do with the level I am on."
"Do you have the feeling that you are to be reborn soon?"
"Yes, I have felt so for a time. Perhaps it will soon happen. I still have a long time to wander in the circle of birth and death. Now, as a ghost, the Teaching of the Buddha is quite clear to me. Before my death I never concerned myself with such things...Oh! I must go."
With these words she vanished.
I have two witnesses to the reality of this spirit; one Vietnamese, and my disciple Taranatha. Both felt the icy coldness and smelled the perfume, but they could not communicate with her, a sign that I was on the same wavelength, so to speak, with her.
In the course of two months I received daily visits from the young lady, then she was suddenly gone to appear no more. The unhappy spirit was no doubt reborn, I hope in a happy and intelligent family.
One day I received a visit from an American civilian who had heard about me from Upasaka Taranatha. He had been in Vietnam for three years in the Army, and was now working as a civilian. He was interested in Buddhism, spiritualism, and the occult, having read widely on these subjects. He wanted me to instruct him in Buddhism, and I immediately agreed, as I could see that he was intelligent and honest, although he appeared to have many other faults, but then who does not?

On his next visit he brought his Vietnamese wife, who spoke very little English, her husband being very fluent in the language. Mr. Sparks worked with the Vietnamese, being an electronics advisor at the Vung Tau Communications Center. Shortly thereafter I initiated Mr. Sparks, giving him the Buddhist name Ananda II (Ananda I being my disciple in Singapore.)
In July of 1972 Upasaka Taranatha had a seven-meter high Tibetan Chorten (Stupa) built on the Vihara grounds. It was dedicated to the great Hungarian scholar and Tibetologist Alexander Csoma de Koros (Hungarian: Csoma Korosi Sandor).
Csoma was born in 1784 in the village of Koros, in Transylvania, being the son of an aristocratic family. He studied medicine in the Universities at Vienna and Gottingen (Germany), but soon put aside his medical studies to devote his efforts to the science of Philology, with the goal of finding the original homeland of the Magyars (Hungarians).
Csoma maintained that this original homeland of his people lie somewhere in the Transhimalaya region.
So, the eager scholar dropped his studies, strapped on a rucksack, and began his long trek to India and Tibet.
Leaving Hungary in 1820, he set out on foot for the east. Csoma was at this time only thirty six years old, and full of energy. He wandered through Persia, Afghanistan, then the Punjab and Kashmir, all on foot. He finally reached Ladakh, which was then western Tibet, but is now part of India. In Kanam, near the Tibetan border, he was taken into a Tibetan monastery, and studied Tibetan and the Holy Script of the Lamas there until 1831. Csoma lived there without complaint in the most primitive of conditions, his daily fare being mainly buttered tea and Tsampa (roasted barley meal).
Contemporary scholars wrote of this period in Csoma's life:
(KANAM. Tibetan language is understood here, but not spoken by the peasants themselves. They speak a language of the Kanawari type. There is a Tibetan Gompa of ancient origin; it is said to go back to the days of LOTSABA RIN-CHEN-BZANG-PO (RATNA-BHADRA, 964-1054 A.C.) The Gompa consists of three parts spread over the village. In the uppermost the dGompa, there is a gild(ed) Buddha with blue hair. This was brought from bKra-shis-lhun-po (Tashilunpo) about 120 years ago.
Here the Hungarian Bodhisattva Alexander Csoma de Koros spent several years. He lived here from August 1827 to October 1830. In 1829 Csoma was visited by Dr. Gerhard, who wrote about him:
"I found him at the village of Kanum (Kanam), in a small but monastic hamlet surrounded by books, and in the best of health...The cold is very intense, and all last winter he sat at his desk wrapped up in woolens from head to foot, and from morning to night, without an interval of recreation or warmth except that of his frugal meals, which are one universal mixture of greasy tea..)
In the years of his studies Csoma compiled a Tibetan-English Dictionary, the first of its kind. position of under Librarian of the Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal. This society also published his dictionary, but only in the year 1834, after another dictionary compiled by a missionary was found to be inadequate. Csoma wrote many articles for the Society's journal, mostly about Lamaism and the Tibetans.
In 1842 the adventurous Hungarian left Calcutta to visit the land of his dreams, Tibet. Passing through the malaria infested Terai, Csoma became ill, and died in Darjeeling, within sight of the mountains of Tibet. The death of this scholar was a great loss to the world, and the science of Tibetology, which was in its infancy. His place could not be filled for many years. In recognition of
His efforts, the Hungarian Academy of Science had a marble bust of Csoma made, and presented it to the Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal. I saw the bust in 1956 in the Society's old building. It stands in the entrance hall along with the busts of other, mostly British, Indologists. The bust shows Csoma holding a long Tibetan book (Pecha). Later Japanese Buddhist scholars gave Csoma the title of Bodhisattva, and erected a shrine to him in the Taisho University in Tokyo (1933). In the British Embassy in Tehran there was a brass plate commemorating Csoma's visit on his way to Asia.
As mentioned before, my Disciple Upasaka Taranatha had the Tibetan Chorten built. Nine workers toiled at it for three months, although in Europe it would have taken three workers scarcely two weeks. Well, Vietnam is not Europe, but Asia, where the concept of time is very elastic.
In Tibet, Nepal and other Himalayan countries one sees many of these Chortens, or relic towers, which symbolize Buddhahood and Nirvana. My disciple spent a half million Piastres to build the Chorten, and my new office which was constructed at the same time. We were convinced that the contractor had cheated us, but what could we do? Everything was very expensive, especially the cement which had to be imported from Taiwan.
Finally, on the tenth of August 1972, we held the inauguration Ceremony; nine monks and five nuns from Vung Tau took part, and many lay people from both Vung Tau and Saigon attended. I first held a devotional ceremony in the Shrine Room, then we went in procession three times around the Chorten reciting the Mantra "Om Mani Padme Hum", the world famous mantra of the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara (Tib: Chenresig). I led the procession. I wore the yellow robe of the Mahayana Priesthood, and wore the silver brocade Kesa (Stola) of the Western Buddhist Order, and the conical red hat of the Nying-ma sect of Tibetan Buddhism. I was the Upacarya of the Arya Maitreya Mandala for South Vietnam, being personally initiated by our highest Mandalacarya, Lama Anagarika Govinda,
and placed in office. I received the Abhiseka, that is the high ordination in Tantric Buddhism from Lama Govinda in 1958 in Almora (India). In 1954 I had received the first Ordination in Germany, and in 1952 was Ordained as Priest in London. In later years I received other initiations and Ordinations from Vietnamese and Japanese sects.
Upasaka Taranatha had the honor of cutting the ribbon at the entrance to the Chorten, then we commenced the procession three times around. In earlier times, shortly after the death of the Buddha, such Stupas were built in memory of the Enlightened One, and many contained urns with the ashes of the Buddha or his disciples. In the first century after his Nirvana, as the Theravada sect became prominent, one worshipped the Buddha not as a human figure, but in the form of a Stupa, or merely a footprint. Near the Bodhi Tree in Bodhgaya (Called by Buddhists Buddhagaya) one can see such a footprint in stone. It is not claimed to be an actual footprint of the Buddha, but only a symbol of the Enlightened One. Later the Hindus placed a huge footprint next to it, and claimed it to be the footprint of the God Vishnu. There is, of course, no mention of this in the Buddhist scriptures.
I had the Chorten painted with white enamel, and four plates built into the sides with room for inscriptions which were written in red on a gold background. The front side, towards the sea was left blank. The left and right sides had the following inscriptions in Vietnamese:

In memoriam of the Hungarian Scholar and Bodhisattva
Alexander Csoma de Koros (1784-1842)
This Tibetan style Chorten is erected through the
generous contribution of Mr. Roy C. Alexander (Upasaka
Taranatha) 10 August 1972

This monument in honor of the Hungarian scholar is the only one of its kind in South East Asia. On the left side of the Chorten the following words of the Buddha were inscribed:

"Hatred never ceases through hatred in this world.
Through love alone will it cease; this is an eternal
law."

The plate on the rear was also left blank, as I wanted this to be my memorial, as the urn with my ashes would one day be interred in the stupa. The Chorten was formed around a massive boulder that we found on the hillside. Over this four steps of stone and concrete reinforced by steel rods.
These four steps symbolize the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism:

The Noble Truth of Suffering.
The Noble Truth of the Origin of Suffering.
The Noble Truth of the Cessation of Suffering.
The Noble Truth of the Path leading to the Cessation of
Suffering.

On these Four Noble Truths proclaimed by the Buddha the entire philosophy is formed. Everything else is later development and clarification. On the four steps was built a framework of steel, brick and concrete, which was finished with more concrete to form the spherical portion of the Stupa. Four niches were let in to the sphere, which were large enough to place statues in. In the front we placed a statue of the Buddha, and on the right one of Kuan Shih Yin. We intended to place statues in the other niches later.
During the ceremony the boom of the temple bell carried out over the city and the sea. One of my lay students struck it 108 times. After the impressive celebration we sat in the reception room and drank tea together. There were so many people that some sat on the floor, and others out on the veranda.
Upasaka Taranatha was later Ordained as a Priest in the Arya Maitreya Mandala, in a private initiation ceremony at the Vihara. Also, together we formed the American Buddhist Mission, mainly to distribute Buddhist Literature to all interested persons, and to form a nucleus of a American Buddhist Order Reverend Taranatha would establish upon his return to the United States in March of 1974.
The Americans finally finished their work at the bottom of my mountain, and I could once again breathe fresh air. The salty sea air gave me a good appetite; luckily my disciples and students kept me supplied with everything necessary during this period, although the bankrupt economy and the hopeless war were rapidly making things difficult. The war was coming nearer to Saigon, and even here we began to hear the thundering of bombs and artillery. Reverend Taranatha had returned to America, so that left only Reverend Ananda, who had now moved to Saigon. Ananda, however, visited the temple regularly every weekend, although it was becoming increasingly more difficult to travel due to the escalation of fighting.
When the Americans pulled out of Vietnam in 1974, the situation was clear to me. The war was lost; the reds would win - sooner or later. Should I leave Vietnam for safety? My students and friends were of two minds. Towards the end of the year I had decided to fly to Singapore as my Disciple Ananda I had suggested. I had a ticket, and if I did not use it by the first of September it would expire. I had not the intention of leaving Vietnam forever, but wanted to wait in Singapore to see how the war would develop. One could not be certain of the politics; perhaps the Americans would return to save this poor land from the Communists.