Impressions of Tibet: Makye Ame and Tsangyang Gyatso

At the southeastern corner of Barkhor Street stands a bright yellow two-story building facing the street, with a plaque above the door reading “Makye Ame.”

The age of this old building is now unknown; its original name was “Dongzi Sukangse,” meaning “the yellow house beside the great prayer flagpole.”

Legend has it that on the day Ganden Monastery was completed, a disciple rushed to Jokhang Temple to inform Tsongkhapa, and happened to meet him right on the street. Upon hearing the news, Tsongkhapa immediately planted his staff into the ground, sat down, and joyfully chanted auspicious sutras. Later, people erected the “Ganden Darchen” here—a great prayer flagpole of Ganden Monastery—enshrining his staff inside as a memorial.

What Tsongkhapa never imagined was that more than two hundred years later, a young man who would inherit his spiritual mantle would form an unbreakable bond with the little building next to it.

On March 1, 1683, in the remote mountains of Urgyen Ling in Tawang, southern Tibet, a boy was born into an ordinary Monpa serf family. Both his parents were followers of the Nyingma sect and named him Jigme Dorje Sherab Gyaltsen.

A year earlier, the Fifth Dalai Lama, Ngawang Lobsang Gyatso, had passed away at Drepung Monastery. Three years before that, he had appointed his direct disciple Sangye Gyatso as Desi (regent), handed over all administrative affairs, and then retreated into seclusion to meditate and write.

After Sangye Gyatso took control of the Ganden Phodrang regime, he came into conflict with the Khoshut Khan who held military power. To maintain political stability, he concealed the death of the Fifth Dalai Lama from the outside world and secretly searched for the reincarnated soul boy. He chose the reincarnation from the remote mountains of Tawang in southern Tibet mainly because the isolated location helped keep the secret. In 1688, at the age of five, Jigme Dorje Sherab Gyaltsen was identified as the reincarnated soul boy.

In 1696, after the Qing government suppressed the Dzungar rebellion that had ravaged Xinjiang and Tibet, they learned from captives that the Fifth Dalai Lama had died fifteen years earlier. The enraged Kangxi Emperor sent a letter of reprimand; Sangye Gyatso admitted his fault while dispatching people to bring back the chosen reincarnated boy.

In the autumn of the following year, when the reincarnated boy Jigme Dorje Sherab Gyaltsen passed through Nagarze by Yamdrok Lake, the Fifth Panchen Lama, Lobsang Yeshe, personally welcomed him, presided over the hair-cutting ceremony, and gave him the dharma name Lobsang Rinchen Tsangyang Gyatso. On October 25, 1697, Tsangyang Gyatso was enthroned at the Potala Palace in Lhasa as the Sixth Dalai Lama, with the Fifth Panchen Lama Lobsang Yeshe as his teacher.

As regent, Sangye Gyatso imposed a strict study plan on Tsangyang Gyatso, assigning a heavy load of required scriptures and appointing a senior scripture master to supervise his studies and practice almost every moment.

Tsangyang Gyatso had grown up in the relaxed environment of the Nyingma sect and already had a beloved girl in his hometown before coming to Lhasa. The Gelug tradition forbade contact with women, and its many harsh monastic rules made him extremely uncomfortable.

During Sangye Gyatso’s regency, Tsangyang Gyatso was kept as a puppet locked deep inside the Potala Palace. Meanwhile, the conflict between Sangye Gyatso and the new Khoshut Khan, Lhazang Khan, had become irreconcilable. Caught in the vortex, Tsangyang Gyatso felt fearful, miserable, and helpless.

In his deep depression, he began to drink heavily and frequently slipped out of the palace to seek pleasure.

Once outside, he would shed his monk robes and disguise himself as a noble dandy, spending his time in the taverns along Barkhor Street, often getting drunk and staying out all night.

Tsangyang Gyatso had the temperament and talent of a poet. Romantic by nature, and disguised as a wealthy playboy, he never lacked for female admirers. “Makye Ame” comes from one of Tsangyang Gyatso’s love poems, and it is said that the little building on Barkhor Street was the home of the girl, where the two often met on the upper floor.

Tsangyang Gyatso left behind many moving love poems, in which he poured out his true feelings, eased his inner torment, and expressed the sweetness of love and his longing for a free life. Sitting by the window of that building, watching the crowds pass along Barkhor Street, he wrote many touching verses.

On that eastern mountain top

rises the pure white moon;

the face of Makye Ame

slowly appears in my heart.

In the flush of wine, Tsangyang Gyatso once wrote with bold abandon:

Living in the Potala Palace,

I am the greatest king of the snowland;

roaming the streets of Lhasa,

I am the most beautiful lover in the world.

In 1702, escorted by a large monastic delegation, Tsangyang Gyatso traveled to Tashilhunpo Monastery in Shigatse to attend an ordination ceremony. According to the plan, he was to preach to the assembly at the great Dharma gathering and then formally receive the novice monk vows. Upon arriving at Tashilhunpo, however, to everyone’s surprise, he not only refused to preach and take vows, but also removed his kasaya and hat on the spot, handed them to his teacher, the Fifth Panchen Lama, and asked to return to lay life as an ordinary person!

In 1705, the conflict between Regent Sangye Gyatso and Khan Lhazang Khan fully erupted. Sangye Gyatso was defeated and killed. Lhazang Khan submitted a memorial to the Qing government, accusing Tsangyang Gyatso of indulging in sensual pleasures and neglecting religious duties, claiming he was not the true Dalai Lama and demanding his removal and a new search. The Kangxi Emperor approved the memorial, decreeing that Tsangyang Gyatso be stripped of his title and escorted to the capital.

When the Mongol escort passed below Drepung Monastery, monks rushed out, rescued Tsangyang Gyatso, and took him inside the monastery for protection. The two sides fought for three days, and the Mongols brought in cannons to bombard Drepung. To prevent further bloodshed, Tsangyang Gyatso walked out alone and willingly surrendered.

During the escort, Tsangyang Gyatso died on the shores of Qinghai Lake at the age of 23. Many rumors surround his death, the most common being that he was killed by his Mongol captors. He left behind a final poem:

Oh white crane, please lend me your power of flight.

Things remain, but people have changed. Today, that little building has become a famous restaurant named “Makye Ame.” The mottled walls, the steep staircase—everything is still the same.

Sitting inside “Makye Ame” on a winter evening, you feel a deep warmth.

The restaurant’s dim lighting creates a moody, intimate atmosphere.

The top floor resembles a Mongolian yurt. I sit in a corner, ready to enjoy dinner.

I start by ordering a local barley beer, crisp and refreshingly fragrant. I consider a cup of butter tea, but it must be bought by the entire thermos. The woman across from me generously says, “No need to buy one; you won’t finish it—just have some of mine.”

The menu is unremarkable. The recommended roasted lamb leg and big plate chicken look no different from northwest Chinese cuisine, showing little Tibetan character. I guess if you insist on truly local food, it would have to be dried yak meat, tsampa, and butter tea. So I order a curry beef. To my surprise, the yak meat is incredibly tender and the dish tastes wonderful.

The stairs are extremely steep, making going up and down quite an effort.

Tibetan feelings and values differ greatly from those of the Han Chinese. When Tsangyang Gyatso was alive, people fiercely criticized him for deviating from tradition and breaking the precepts; they tried everything to mold him into a god, but with his rebellious behavior he refused to be part of that deification. Yet after he died unjustly, they insisted on commemorating him, copying and passing around his poems, and firmly rejected the new Dalai Lama imposed upon them by the Qing emperor. They painted the houses where he had lived bright yellow, so much so that the Kangxi Emperor eventually had to restore Tsangyang Gyatso’s status.

That man is long gone. The “Dongzi Sukangse” on Barkhor Street is now empty, but on those dark, steep stairs, a voice seems to echo still: