The 15th of March is the birthday of my teacher Begzin Yavuuhulan, a great poet and enlightener of Mongolia. Here is my essay, through which I want to deliver his last words to our next generation. I am preparing a book of essays in English, in which this essay will be included.

The famous Dariganga region of Mongolia took its name from two of its iconic landmarks -the Dara Mountain and Ganga Lake. The inhabitants, known as Darigangians, created a peculiar nomadic culture in the southeastern Mongolia. In this region, a large collection of ancient Indian stories, called the Ulgeriin Dalai (Ocean of Stories) is frequently heard. The collection is also placed on top a chest in the northern section of gers of some elders. The collection has a chapter about “Ganga and Dara, two sons of the heavens”, reminding me of the river or lake names in my homeland and in India.

When you lookout from top of the Dara Mountain, or better known as the Golden Hill, you have a beautiful view of sand dunes edging the foot of the mountain, red willow growing on the lake shores and thousands of birds flying in, as if it was the legendary land of Shambala. The lake is fed by twenty-one springs. The numbers also symbolize something special. Mother Tara has twenty one manifestations.

<span style="Times New Roman" ,"serif""="">As the Mongolian script culture flourished and grew, and I came back to consider how to keep my roots safe, I created my own book seal. Not only would my seal have the traditional script, but it would also bring together the history of human understanding, joining them together as in a tribal totem, or a spiritual image, as a sign of the world's good fortune. Mongolians have a custom of branding their horses, and the custom of branding books was a symbolic expression of my own heart and mind. The custom of branding horses remains an aspect of nomadic life, but the branding of books was largely forgotten during the twentieth century.

If you say you’d understand Mongolia’s wild steppe,
if you say you’d look upon someone else,
we’ll draw up the cart outside a nomad’s tent
like a single button on a broad swathe of blue brocade,
Then I’ll saddle up a little wild horse for you,
this horse will calmly bring the moon closer.

He always lies in wait for his next bloodthirsty opponent

The upcoming battle stalks him everywhere
Though they emerge with their lives, they don’t fin peace
Like an arrow, he pierces through and rips them apart
Everything forgotten the ancient earth.

Everyone was amazed, and from that time, the child's extraordinary talent and ability began to reveal itself. Atthe age of six, he took the vows of a monk, and at nine he was recognised as a the fifth incarnation of the Noyon Hutagt. Between eleven and fifteen, he studied Buddhist philosophy and tantric practise at Badgarcholin Monastery, in what is today Inner Mongolia, and great teachers such as Janjaa Hutagt, Ajaa Gegeen and Düinhor Pandit gave him the instructions and empowerments for secret mantra practises, and so his magical and spiritual genius became gradually more and more open. Although great scholars of religion study the Dharma for about ten years and so reach a high level, Danzanravjaa was amazing in that he took a short cut and penetrated the secrets of the Dharma after about five years. At sixteen he returned to the place of his birth and, as he perfected the practise of secret mantra, he began to build what is now Övörbayasgalant Hamriin Hiid. Two years later his father Dulduit died. After this time, he gave himself to building temples and monasteries and to magical practises such as bringing rain and spreading the Dharma, he wrote poetry and composed music and songs, and he choreographed dances, and so he spread magic and brought enlightenment to his homeland of the Govi.

The song upon your lips 

is upon the hills,

the song upon your lips

The sky, broad like a basket for gathering dung,

above the gathered people,

and when the people are singing,

the great sky is calm.

My father, who was a livestock herder in the countryside, first showed me the Mongol script by writing it in the snow, out in the sheep pastures, with a piece of feathergrass, he told me that I should learn the script.  Thus it was that I came to study in the department of Mongol Language and Literature at the Pedagogical University. I had had the chance to go to the University for Literary Studies in Moscow, but chose not to take that path.  Because of the political situation at that time, and because of the increased pay it would bring, as I read the classic texts of Marxism-Leninism, and commited some of them to memory, I began also to study the ancient Mongol texts.