An account of a Lhasa girl playing truant in the 1930s

December 4, 2025

Tsarong·Yekyi Drolka
(Photographed by Heinrich in the 1940s)

Tsarong·Yekyi Drolka (ཚ་རོང་དབྱངས་ཅན་སྒྲོལ་དཀར།) was born in 1927 into the Doga family (མདོ་མཁར།). Her father, Phuntsok Rabgye (ཕུན་ཚོགས་རབ་རྒྱས།), served as a Kalön and later held the rank of lieutenant general in the People's Liberation Army. Her mother, Rigdzin Butri (རིག་འཛེན་བུ་འཁྲིད།), was the eldest daughter of the Cheyring family, a branch of the Sikkim royal family. In 1941, she married Dundul Namgyal (བདུད་འདུལ་རྣམ་རྒྱལ།), the eldest son of Tsarong Dasang Dündul.

Years at a Private School

At the age of seven, I was sent to a private school by my family. At that time in Lhasa, there was a common custom among middle-class and upper-class families: when children reached a certain age, they would be sent by their families to study in private schools.

Students of Dakang Private School
(Photographed by Tolstoy in the 1940s)

There were four well-known private schools in the Lhasa urban area. Among them, Dakang Private School was taught and managed by the monk official Chudan. Due to its strict school regulations and rigorous management style, it was generally regarded as a boys' school. Additionally, Kyire Private School, Nyagrongsha Private School, and Pala Private School were also quite famous. I was enrolled in Nyagrongsha Private School (ཉག་རོང་ཤག་སློབ་གྲྭ།).

Nyagrongsha Private School
(Source: Suo Qiong's "A Record of Nyagrongsha 'Teacher' — Renzen·Lhundrub Paljor, a Prominent Modern Tibetan Folk Educator," 2000s)

Our teacher, Rikdzin Lhundrub Paljor (རིག་འཛིན་ལྷུན་གྲུབ་དཔལ་འབྱོར། 1897–1979), was a renowned physician in the Lhasa area at that time. On the first day of school, one had to choose an auspicious day to depart from home. Upon arriving at the school, we first presented a khata to the teacher, then prepared sweet rice and butter tea for all the teachers and students. After that, we had to prepare our own cushions, strong star writing boards, ink and brushes, as well as line-ruling strings and other learning tools before we could officially enroll.

Rikdzin Lhundrub Paljor
(Source: Suo Qiong's "A Record of Nyagrongsha 'Teacher' — Rikdzin Lhundrub Paljor, a Prominent Modern Tibetan Folk Educator," 1960s)

Our school allowed both boys and girls to study together, with a student population of about fifty. The classroom was located on the first floor of the Nyagrongsha courtyard, with poor lighting and particularly cold conditions in winter. Every day at five in the morning, we would gather in the classroom for morning prayers, followed by handwriting practice until lunchtime. I was a restless and mischievous girl, and sitting cross-legged on a cushion for long periods with a writing board propped on my knees was truly difficult for me to adapt to. School ended at five in the afternoon, and I would always run all the way home.

Yekyi Drolka (second from right) and friends of the same age
(1930s, collection of the Cheyring family)

Every month, we had an exam. The students were divided into groups of ten, lined up according to their grades, and each would take turns striking the palm of the next student’s hand with a small bamboo stick about 30 centimeters long. For boys, the punishment was changed to striking the cheek. The student with the lowest score in each group had to use the bamboo stick to hit a bundle filled with items and perform three kowtows. Such students were often mocked by their classmates.

Yekyi Drolka (second from left) and friends of the same age
(1930s, collection of the Cheyring family)

Those who violated school rules would be whipped. I was extremely afraid of these rules and, coupled with my unwillingness to wake up early for school every day, I often ran to my parents' bedroom, begging them to let me skip school. My parents, concerned for their daughter, sometimes agreed; but if it happened too often, they would order the servants to take me directly to school.

Doga Parents and Children
From left: Doga Sonam Dorje, Tsarong Yekyi Drolka,
Doga Rigdzin Butri, Doga Phuntsok Rabgye
(1940s, collection of the Cheyring family)

The process for requesting leave was not complicated. It only required sending someone to deliver a khata or some money to the teacher and conveying the request for leave. The teacher usually granted it very quickly. Sometimes, my brother and I would also hide it from our parents and send someone to school to ask for leave. The days off were extremely joyful for me—I could play to my heart's content.

Dongqin Su Lane
The second building from the right is the Nyagrongsha Private School
(Photographed by Chapman in the 1930s)

Our school was located on the eastern side of the Barkhor Street, while my home was on the western side. Therefore, every day on my way to school, I would always encounter all sorts of street anecdotes along Barkhor Street. At school, in addition to practicing handwriting, the female students sometimes had to assist with the teacher's medical work, such as peeling various medicinal herbs or guiding patients to enter the teacher's consultation room in order.

Portrait of the Master-Disciple Lineage
Founder of Tibetan Medicine and Two Renowned 20th-Century Lhasa Physicians
From left: Trakhang Jampa Thuwang, Yutok Yonten Gonpo,
Rikdzin Lhundrub Paljor
(2000s, modern work, source: Suo Qiong's "A Record of Nyagrongsha 'Teacher' — Rikdzin Lhundrub Paljor, a Prominent Modern Tibetan Folk Educator")

To us young girls, this work was full of interest. There were about a dozen patients coming for consultations each day, and the teacher treated them all equally with a dedicated attitude. When further examination of a patient was necessary, he did not even shy away from observing their excrement, analyzing it meticulously before giving a diagnosis.

Rikdzin Lhundrub Paljor
(1940s, source: Suo Qiong's "A Record of Nyagrongsha 'Teacher' — Rikdzin Lhundrub Paljor, a Prominent Modern Tibetan Folk Educator")

When the children of the Doga family were young, they would bring in some children from affiliated estates as playmates and study companions. Once the children completed their studies and began managing the family affairs, these playmates would become potential stewards, treasurers, and other managerial staff. My brother and I each had three playmates. Having companions to go to school with made me feel that attending school was no longer so dull.

Doga Mansion
(Photographed by Rabden Lepcha in the 1920s)

For all private school students in Lhasa, the warrior monks (རྡབ་རྡོབ།) of the three major monasteries were an ever-present shadow. They roamed the streets, instilling fear, and even took pleasure in abducting children on their way to school. Therefore, during the active periods of the mendicant monks, students were not allowed to leave the school during lunch and rest times, and were instead managed uniformly by the teacher.

Warrior Monks
(Photographed by Chen Zonglie in the 1950s)

Two warrior monks often stood on either side of our school gate. Every day when we arrived and left school, we had to walk between them, feeling very fearful. Sometimes, when citizens saw warrior monks snatching children, they would cry out in alarm for help, but no one dared to confront them. Warrior monks had a notorious reputation within the three major monasteries. They did not adhere to monastic rules and were primarily responsible for logistical tasks and manual labor within the monasteries. They focused on physical training but did not study the scriptures. In the summer, various warrior monk groups would also hold competitions.

Warrior Monks
(Photographed by Heinrich in the 1940s)

One summer, our whole family went to the Darlung area in Lhünzhub. In the rural countryside, my father occasionally taught us to read, but the learning efficiency was far lower than in the private school. My brother and I played all day, and our studies suffered as a result. After returning to Lhasa, we re-entered the private school. The private school had only one textbook, and the content was taught repeatedly, which I found extremely tedious.

Darlung Monastery
has a strong patron relationship with the Doga Mansion
(Photographed by Charles Bell in the 1920s)

Additionally, there were restrictions on the handwriting style for female students, requiring them to write in small characters, which I particularly disliked. I often daydreamed during class. Once, the teacher called me into a room, scolded me for not focusing on handwriting practice, and whipped me more than ten times, leaving deep wounds on my buttocks. My parents were heartbroken when they saw this, and my mother applied egg whites to my wounds to help them heal.

The Moment of Playing Truant

Rani Nunnery Ruins
(Photographed by Langru Lobsang Tsering in the 2010s)

Early the next morning, pretending to go to school, we quietly left Doga Mansion and walked upstream along the Lhasa River. To avoid the main roads where we could easily be spotted, we made our way through the vast estates east of the city, using the "Drolma Risur" (སྒྲོལ་མ་རི་ཟུར།) near the Re Estate as a landmark, and proceeded slowly.

The Estates East of Lhasa City
(Photographed by Heinrich in the 1940s)

Villages were scattered along the banks of the Lhasa River. Whenever we approached, curious villagers would gather to watch us in groups, making us very nervous. Along the way, we also encountered a pack of wild dogs, and we had no choice but to jump onto straw stacks piled up in the fields after harvest to hide. Only when we reached the vicinity of Drolma Risur did the fear brought by the unfamiliarity gradually fade away.

Satellite Image of the Estates East of Lhasa City
(from the collection of Interesting Glass Plates, 1960s)

After crossing the mountain pass, we arrived at the residence of the manager of the Re Estate. He prepared breakfast for us and provided me with a horse and a groom. Dorje returned to his own home, while I rode along the mountain path to the Rani Nunnery where my aunt lived. Upon seeing my aunt Padma Yekyi (པད་མ་དབྱངས་ཅན།) and my sister Rigdzin (རིག་འཛིན།), my heart was filled with immense joy.

Doga Siblings
From left: Doga Padma Yekyi, Doga Phuntsok Rabgye,
Doga Kunsang Dechen (Queen of Sikkim)
(1930s, collection of the Cheyring family)

However, my aunt was immediately surprised to see me. After I explained the whole story, she was greatly astonished and immediately wrote a letter to my parents, informing them that I was at the nunnery and asking them not to worry. After entrusting the letter to the groom, he hurried back to Lhasa on horseback. On the way, he happened to meet two servants sent by my parents to search for me.

Doga Phuntsok Rabgye (center)
attending the National Day Third Anniversary Celebration
(1952, included in "The Tibet Album")

As it turned out, after my parents learned that I had played truant, they were extremely anxious. They sent many servants to search everywhere without success, then dispatched a horse team to look in the direction of the Re Estate in the suburbs, where they happened to meet the letter-carrying groom. Upon learning of my whereabouts, my parents did not scold me but instead allowed me to stay temporarily at my aunt's place. Thus, I began a new life in the countryside.

Doga Rigdzin Butri
(1920s, collection of the Cheyring family)

Countryside Years

Rani Nunnery is located about ten kilometers from Lhasa, situated at the foot of a towering mountain peak. To its left runs a river that flows out from the deep mountains, its roaring waters never ceasing. In summer, wild flowers bloom on both sides of the mountain stream, and at the bottom of the valley lies fertile farmland. My aunt and sister's bedroom is on the second floor of the nunnery, with south-facing glass windows that make the room warm, bright, and offer excellent views.

Rigyal Samten Ling Monastery, located west of Rani Nunnery with a similar environment
(Photographed by Hugh Richardson in 1939)

In the nunnery, there were also two nuns, Metok Yekyi (མེ་ཏོག་དབྱངས་ཅན།) and Tsering Lhamo (ཚེ་ལྷ་མོ།), responsible for daily management, meals, daily life, and making dairy products at the pasture. There was also an old woman (མ་མ་རྒན་མོ།), said to be my aunt’s wet nurse from her youth, who lived with us as well. Every morning, she would go to the pasture to milk the cows, then use a churn to make various dairy products. The old woman was extremely meticulous in her work, especially when managing the pasture—before each milking, she would always carefully clean the cows, paying great attention to detail.

Lhasa City and the Vast Estates to the East
(1970s, included in "Lhasa Today")

We usually drew our drinking water from the mountain stream. As the water surged out from the deep valley with a rapid flow, it was clear, cold, and sweet. After fetching it with buckets, we stored it in the kitchen water pots. On each side of the main gate, a Tibetan Mastiff was kept, each with its own hut. They were fierce in temperament, and many pilgrims would hesitate upon hearing the dogs bark, often asking us to move the dogs elsewhere before daring to enter.

Doga Padma Yekyi
(2002, collection of the Cheyring family)

Every day, I wandered around the nunnery. In the nearby forest, ancient trees towered into the sky, with meadows stretching beneath and several streams meandering through, their gentle murmurs creating a pleasant melody. I often lay on the meadow to rest, and sometimes I would find smooth stone slabs to slide and play on. At night, my aunt would coax me to sleep in her bedroom.

Yekyi Drolka at the cave entrance
(1940s, collection of the Cheyring family)

Every morning when I opened the window, I could see the herds of cattle from the Re Estate being slowly driven up the hillside by the herders. The distant lowing from the cattle pens and the crisp sound of bells were particularly relaxing. The mountain used for grazing was extremely steep. In summer, the cattle would line up in a single file and slowly ascend along the mountain stream. Every evening as the sun set, the herding team would slowly return to the area near the nunnery.

Herding
(1950s, included in "The Tibet Album")

During the rainy season, the herders would occasionally bring back mushrooms like golden mushrooms (སེར་ཤ།) from the mountains and share some with us. We usually fried the mushrooms on the stove, adding butter, tsampa, and salt for seasoning. The aroma was captivating.

Golden Mushrooms
(2020s, source: Chuqi in Lhasa)

The nunnery's meat supply mainly relied on stored air-dried beef, and fresh meat was also regularly delivered from the Doga Mansion in Lhasa. Occasionally, snow leopards would sneak around the nunnery, leaping into the cattle pens from the roof to snatch calves. As soon as people heard the cry, "Snow leopard!" they would shout in alarm, and I too was very frightened. Without firearms or fireworks, we could only light bonfires on the roof and scream together to drive the snow leopards away.

Snow Leopard
(2020s, source: Gun-wielding Proust)

Since I went out alone every day, my aunt was naturally concerned, so she brought in a maid named Dawa from the Doga Mansion. Her father was a farmer at the Re Estate, and her mother was a gatekeeper at the Doga Mansion. After Dawa arrived, my ways and range of play became even freer. We spent the whole day climbing the nearby high mountains. Deep in the mountain stream, there was a natural cave where we often brought lunch to enjoy. After the meal, we would continue climbing until evening before returning to the nunnery. Standing at the mountaintop, the view was open and expansive, allowing us to see the Tsalgungthang Village across the river and the Pangdü Village to the east. The scenery was quite fascinating.

Yekyi Drolka (second from left)
resting on the mountain with friends
(1940s, collection of the Cheyring family)

On hot summer days, Dawa and I often went swimming in the nearby streams. The mountains were covered with air-dried cow dung, known as "yellow dry" (སེར་སྐམ།). This cow dung was very dry and had no odor. We would often collect it and give it to the old woman at the pasture. She was always very happy whenever she received it.

Cow Dung
(2020s, source: Gregor Samsa)

Because collecting this natural, odorless fuel was so interesting, I begged my aunt to make me a small backpack that fit me well. From then on, Dawa and I spent our days collecting cow dung. As the amount of cow dung I gathered grew, I came up with the idea of selling it to save some money for myself. So, I gradually built up my own stockpile of cow dung.

Bundles of Cow Dung
(Photographed by Harrison Forman in the 1930s)

The Re Estate regularly arranged for six yaks to transport cow dung to the Doga Mansion in Lhasa. I then asked the transport team to stop by the nunnery on their way and take my stored cow dung along for trade. Since there was a share in the additional transaction, the members of the transport team were happy to help.

A Transport Team Carrying Cow Dung
(Photographed by Sherriff in 1945)

After that, I no longer specifically prepared cow dung for the old woman. Sometimes, I even stole some high-quality pieces from her unattended cow dung bags for my own use. Whenever the old woman noticed that the cow dung had decreased, she would loudly scold, "They've stolen my cow dung again..."

Herding Girl
(1952, included in "The Tibet Album")

By August in autumn, the manager of the Re Estate and the nearby farmers began the harvest. The harvested crops were transported one by one to the threshing ground for threshing, creating a very lively scene. I sometimes joined in for the fun. On the threshing ground, the crops were piled in long rows, and people used yaks to tread on them for threshing, a method called "driving cattle to thresh" (ཕྱུགས་ཆག).

Threshing
(Photographed by Thomas in 1949)

At that time, many herders from the northern pastoral areas would come to the estates around Lhasa, driving their livestock to provide cattle-driving services in exchange for grain. At the Re Estate, twenty yaks arrived, making the threshing scene exceptionally lively: everyone joined hands to form a circle, while someone in the middle drove the yaks to trample the unthreshed crops.

Threshing
(1952, included in "The Tibet Album")

Driving cattle for threshing was usually done in the early morning and evening, as yaks, accustomed to the severe cold of the northern grasslands, tolerate cold but not heat. If it happened to be a full moon night with bright moonlight, the threshing could continue very late. I also enjoyed joining in, holding hands and shouting to help drive the cattle.

Yak
(Photographed by Thomas in 1949)

After threshing, some women would sort the barley grains and forage on the ground, then pack and transport them to the Re Estate and the nunnery. Next, they would carefully remove impurities from the barley, rinse it repeatedly, and then sun-dry it. After that, it would be roasted in an iron pan along with sand grains, and finally ground by a water mill to become tsampa.

Autumn Harvest
(Photographed by Ye Hua in the 1950s)

Apart from grain, the Re Estate also had extensive rapeseed fields, providing us with cooking oil. The vegetable garden grew peas, potatoes, turnips, radishes, and other vegetables. The potatoes from the Re Estate were particularly famous in the Lhasa area and were especially popular in the Barkhor Street. That winter, as the New Year approached, my aunt and sister took me back to the Doga Mansion in Lhasa. These were my experiences during those six months in the countryside.