The Funniest Monk I Know (and What He Taught Me About Life)

Friends, I haven’t told you yet about a friend who lives next to my room. I’d like to introduce him to you because I think you’ll like him. It has been exactly three years since we came to know each other. Not only the monks and students, but even the seniors know him because he’s such a hilarious guy. We call him Pemba, which, of course, is his real name.

But frankly speaking, this guy sometimes irritates me — and I’ll tell you how.

Every morning, Pemba knocks on my window while I’m busy with my prayers. When I look at him, he makes funny facial expressions just to amuse me. If I’m in a good mood, I smile; otherwise, he sees me differently. He never gets tired of entertaining me, though sometimes I get fed up with him. When I show an angry face, Pemba pretends to disappear, only to reappear once I’ve returned to my normal mood. Then again, I have to act as if I’ll jump down his throat just to avoid him from my sight — and that makes me giggle in the end. This is how the two of us greet each other.

You won’t believe the kind of stories Pemba has. I’ve heard many from him, but I won’t narrate them all here for certain reasons. What I’m going to share are just the highlights of his life so far.

Pemba lost his mother at a very young age and was raised by his father and elder siblings. Later, his father remarried and left, but Pemba never lacked affection under the care of his elder sister. Still, a mother is a mother — nothing can replace her. You and I both know that.

Despite his challenges, he was sent to school, though he was slower than most of his classmates. Pemba told me he had to repeat several grades. His friends of the same age moved ahead, and he had to cope with new batches each time — which he managed well.

His life took a different turn one day, and that changed everything. He was traveling between Zhemgang and Gelephu in his cousin’s car. When he regained consciousness, he found himself lying in a hospital bed and felt pain when he tried to move. When he asked his sister what had happened, she told him that he had survived a car accident two weeks earlier. He couldn’t tell me much beyond that because his memory didn’t go further back.

I would say luck turned in another form for him because that unforgettable incident pushed him onto the spiritual path.

It wasn’t easy for him, especially when he had to study and take examinations in the monastic school. Once, like any other monk, Pemba was sitting for an exam. But he got dismissed from the examination hall. He laughed hysterically when he told me how his teacher had whipped him that day. Why? His shaky hands didn’t allow him to write properly. He wrote only one word and filled the space meant for the entire name of the monastery! This infuriated his teacher. Logically, I don’t see any fault with Pemba — but that’s how life is. Unfair. There should have been better options for him. Is a written exam the only way to measure learning?

His story doesn’t end there. Pemba later enrolled in higher Buddhist studies, which meant he would have to face exams for the next ten years. He had to pass each grade to complete his studies on time, but it was obvious that he would struggle. Indeed, he tried — and failed — for two consecutive years. Since examinations are not the ultimate aim of Buddhist studies, he was granted special consideration and exempted from the most dreaded challenge of his life.

Today, he attends classes regularly and receives oral transmissions. I often see him holding a pen, mostly scribbling. He also practices jaling (the Tibetan trumpet). He believes that if one cannot enjoy the fruit of success in this life, there’s always the next.

To me — and perhaps to you, too — such a life might seem difficult. But the way my neighbour handles his life is truly awe-inspiring. I feel that his stories are meant to uplift me whenever I feel low.