ON SUICIDE AND BETRAYAL: THE COLLAPSE OF SPIRITUAL REFUGE AND TRUST IN “BUDDHIST” COMMUNITIES. An autobiographical reflection on spiritual betrayal, institutional responsibility, and the Buddhist path from despair to inner refuge and the attempted suicide attempts of Buddhist teacher, Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, and use of threats of suicide by a teacher to manipulate and conceal truth about misconduct

“I can forgive but I will not forget. My body still shakes when I walk, I have scars.” —Dilgo Khyentse Yangsi Rinpoche (July 2026)

“If someone is drowning, it is not enough to explain that the water, the drowning and the self are empty of inherent existence. Wisdom reaches out a loving and compassionate hand of support and ear of listening and understanding to all, not just to those we like or whose truth we do not mind hearing.

“Compassion therefore requires more than protecting a teacher’s reputation. It requires allowing teachers to be recognised as human beings who may need psychological help and changed conduct, while also protecting students from being made responsible for their survival. It also requires Buddhist communities to stop confusing silence with peace, truth and harmony.”

“Buddhist disciples therefore can reasonably ask: if those held up as spiritual refuges are themselves contemplating suicide, threatening suicide or trying to harm or pressure and bully some of their followers to harm themselves, what does this tell us about the way Buddhist authority and realisation are understood?”

“The question is not whether fiction should ever address abuse. Literature has always explored suffering and may reveal truths conventional reporting cannot. The question is whether such work illuminates survivors’ realities or turns them into aesthetic objects while real people reporting actual experiences and asking difficult questions are dismissed and ignored.”

“We can (and even should) oppose unethical misconduct, smear campaigns, falsehoods, and defend ourselves and others from anonymous, derogatory attacks, and seek accountability and prevention within Buddhist communities, without becoming consumed by aversion or revenge. That is part of the role of a Bodhisattva, to protect beings from harm and gross deception and to bring about growth and transformation.”– Adele Tomlin (July 2026)

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.)” —Sylvia Plath

Recently, I listened to a Youtube interview with Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche Yangsi, published on 16th July 2026, a famous young Tibetan Buddhist teacher about whom I had written before and expressed sympathy for the difficulties he had faced and a very “public sacking” from Shechen monastery, Nepal.

I was saddened, but also not that surprised, to hear him talk about his utter heartbreak and trauma and even trying to commit suicide ten times, and one particular case in Sri Lanka where he lay down on train tracks waiting for the train to run over him.  He also spoke about living with the trauma and that forgiveness is possible but without forgetting either (here is a clip of the relevant section).

When I had written previously about Dilgo Khyentse, whatever the complete truth of the accusations against him, as a survivor of public defamation, exclusion and shunning myself by institutions and teachers, I had felt deeply uncomfortable with the public nature of his rejection and humiliation. Particularly because some of the people involved were senior Buddhist teachers to whom he had once been closely connected, such as Shechen Rabjam Rinpoche and Shechen monastery, Nepal.

I tried to offer a more balanced and compassionate account of what appeared to be happening to him,  as I had done for the 17th Karmapa, Ogyen Trinley Dorje during his public humiliation and accusations from 2019 onwards.   I did not want simply to join a chorus of condemnation without knowing the full facts or understanding the circumstances that had shaped his actions and suffering. I hope this article serves a similar purpose.

Compassion does not require us to ignore wrongdoing, excuse harmful conduct or abandon discernment. It asks us to look carefully, to resist simplistic judgements and to remember that even people who have made mistakes may themselves have been wounded, betrayed or failed by the communities that formed them.

Accountability is necessary when genuine harm has occurred and Buddhist teachings should never be used to shield misconduct, silence criticism or prevent people from speaking honestly about their experiences. Yet, on the other hand, accountability should not be used to justify cruelty, collective punishment or the deliberate humilation, destruction of another person’s dignity and psychological well-being, especially when that person is a lone woman (such as myself) without the powerful institutional support, resources and money of those enacting such cruel and unforgiving actions.

Public condemnation, ostracism and humiliation are not consistent with the Buddhist principles of compassion, forgiveness, love and reconciliation. When such a disagreement concerns the conduct of people joined through Vajrayāna and Mahayana practice, the consequences are particularly painful.

In Vajrayāna Buddhism, the relationship between teacher and student is often understood through the concept of samaya: a sacred bond or commitment involving profound trust, devotion and spiritual responsibility. When people occupying positions of spiritual authority turn against someone, publicly condemn them or participate in their exclusion and emotional and financial exhaustion, the resulting wound reaches far beyond an ordinary disagreement or heartbreak of a ended relationship. It shatters the very fabric of trust, refuge and vows one has taken and committed to within that relationship, and feels as if one is literally being “murdered” or “destroyed” at a very deep mental and energetic level.

Having experienced this myself, since 2020 onwards, but particularly during the past year and a distressing and vexatious and false court case in Delhi (taken in the name of a teacher, in my absence and without my defence), I understand even more clearly how destabilizing and traumatising such treatment can be. For more details on that, see here and below.

It is painful when a person one trusted and regarded as father figure/guide behaves in ways that contradicts the principles they publicly teach. It can be even more distressing when the community themselves follow their lead (or lack of clarity) and resort to anonymous bullying online (and in person privately), false public accusations, institutional exclusion, reputational attacks or even escalating it to vexatious and unnecessary litigation in one’s absence (as happened to me).

This new article/part autobiographical chapter is about this experience and how it often leads the person being isolated and attacked to thoughts of suicide (or unaliving oneself).

Considering first the case of the young Dilgo Khyentse Yangsi Rinpoche, meeting him briefly at a tantric ritual event in Bali,  and his recent public statement of trying to commit suicide ten times, and one particular case in Sri Lanka where he lay down on some train tracks. I then consider my own experience and psychological trauma,  then what Buddhist teachings say about suicide, and why it should be avoided at all costs, unless it is in self-defence and easier to die than stay alive. Also, how trauma and abuse is not for audience growth, entertainment or literary creativity (as was recently showcased in Tricycle Buddhist online). But as an ongoing real and painful struggle of survivors to be heard, understood and for those responsible for the active and deliberate harm to take accountability.

An Offering of testimony, solidarity and inspiration

I end with a message of hope and inspiration, for those who asked me to write more about what pulled me through the overwhelming “darkness” around me from those who were supposed to be a “light on the path”.

I also offer this article and autobiographical chapter reflection in part, to Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, and also to other Buddhist teachers, such as the 17^th Karmapa, Ogyen Trinley Dorje one of my main gurus, and other male teachers—who have passed through periods of profound distress, abuse, humiliation, spiritual betrayal or despair, including those who have harmed women due to their own confusion and being misguided on the path.

But also to those nameless readers and survivors, who have asked me to write more about how I (as a lone woman) overcame such harsh, cruel and vindictive challenges, a six year online smear campaign, losing funding, friends, support, yet create Dakini Translations, and not to lose my faith and respect for the three jewels of Buddha, Dharma and Arhat Noble Sangha.

In his recent interview, Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche clearly wanted people to understand the depth of despair into which he had fallen. By speaking openly about his suicidal thoughts and attempts, he communicated something difficult, painful and deeply human.

Those who have experienced spiritual betrayal should not be left to suffer alone. We should offer one another a hand of friendship, compassion and understanding. We should respect truth, listen before condemning and create space for people to respond to accusations made against them, for forgiveness and for resolution.

We should also show greater respect for women, particularly when they speak about misconduct, coercion, exclusion or abuse. Women should not be treated as disposable, disloyal or dangerous merely because they refuse silence and tolerate what should be intolerable, particularly in the Buddhist context.

Where any of us has failed in compassion, honesty or ethical responsibility, it is never too late to change. It is never too late to acknowledge harm, offer a sincere apology, express regret and begin again with greater humility.  Transformation is one of the deepest promises of the Buddhadharma. No person is fixed permanently as either victim or wrongdoer, condemned or condemning, betrayed or betrayer. Through honesty, remorse, courage and compassionate action, harmful patterns can be interrupted.

That possibility of transformation should apply not only to individuals but also to teachers, monasteries, lineages and Buddhist institutions.

So I offer these reflections to Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche with compassion and respect and in solidarity, and with the hope that his survival and testimony (and mine) may help others survive too. But also, and in particular, female survivors of sexual misconduct who do not have the public support, resources, name and so on, that men like Dilgo Khyentse have. To anyone who has felt humiliated, abandoned, falsely judged or pushed beyond what they believed they could endure by public figures of power and influence. Whom those men so often leave out of their own accounts of trauma and abuse.

May we learn to listen, support and forgive rather than destroy and shun one another.

May we have the courage to tell the truth and the humility to hear it.

May those who have caused harm recognise, repair and transform it.

May those who have been deliberately and persistently harmed by those with worldly power and influence, recover their dignity, purpose and joy.

May no one feel that death is the only way out of suffering.

And may we remember that, even after profound betrayal and cruelty, the heart can remain open, the truth can remain intact and the path can begin again with love, compassion  and wisdom as companions.

As Sylvia Plath, the famous poet who committed suicide wrote:

Adele Tomlin, 21^st July 2026.

Reader support note

If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or believe you may be in immediate danger, contact local emergency services, a suicide-crisis service, a qualified medical professional or someone trustworthy who can remain with you. Do not face an immediate suicidal crisis alone.

A REPORT ON THE DILGO KHYENTSE CASE AND PART-AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL CHAPTER

Dilgo Khyentse Yangsi Rinpoche: A Tantric Meeting in Bali in December 2025

On the New Year’s Eve of 31 December 2025, I attended one day of a two week tantric pūjā organised by Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche in Bali, Indonesia. It was my first visit to the island, which I will write more about later. Although I had originally intended to attend the event for several days, I ultimately went for only one day. Nevertheless, I was glad that I made the journey.

The gathering felt noticeably different from many formal monastic Buddhist events I had previously attended. Dilgo Khyentse, formerly a monk who now lives as a layperson, appeared accessible and approachable. There were very few monastics, no conspicuous bodyguards, imposing security barriers or extremely elevated thrones separating him from the participants.

The atmosphere felt intimate, relaxed and refreshingly human. He gave people blessings with a sacred statue and amulet from Guru Padmasambhava. At the end of the puja, he also apologised to those present in case he had done anything wrong during the pūjā.

I found this gesture striking. Humility and the willingness to acknowledge possible mistakes are qualities Buddhist teachers frequently encourage in others, but do not always publicly demonstrate themselves.

A complimentary dinner was generously provided for everyone that evening in a nearby restaurant with live music entertainment. During the gathering, Rinpoche did not sit apart from everyone else, in a special section, but was sitting at a table with followers and his mother, and seemed available to people who wished to speak with him.

I then missed a few days, it was about a half hour taxi ride from central Ubud, where I was staying alone.  However, I had initially planned to attend the final day a few days later as well. Yet, for reasons that are difficult to explain, I experienced a persistent mental block about returning. At the time, I was devotedly following another teacher, Gyalton Rinpoche, and felt a union and connection with him that seemed unbreakable, and was planning to travel to Indonesia for an event connected with his guru, Tai Situ Rinpoche a few days later. I had gone hoping that Gyalton Rinpoche would be attending, despite the difficulties I had faced by his associates in Europe 2025, although I discovered to my great disappointment when I arrived there that he was not.

At the dinner in Bali, I also met a woman who told me she followed the other Karmapa, Thaye Dorje associated with 14th Zhamarpa Rinpoche. Perhaps because of the sensitivities and divisions surrounding these Tibetan Buddhist communities, and my own personal conviction that there was only one Karmapa, and that the community who supported Thaye Dorje had committed grave wrongs and court cases about Rumtek that still prevented the 17^th Karmapa’s returning there, I  felt uncomfortable about returning and being with people who condoned, or ignored this.

Even so, I remained grateful that I had attended the pūjā and met Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche personally for the first time. The stunning ancient tantric temple in Bali was a perfect backdrop, despite the occasional rains, and there was a beautiful painting of Kurukulla, a deity I had always felt a connection with.   It seemed as if I had been magnetized by her and Rinpoche to be there.  The encounter established a brief but meaningful connection—with him, with the practice and with the place, which I am grateful for. This all happened before I also faced a public humiliation similar to that of the young tulku, with false accusations and costly litigation with the intent to completely sever and destroy the devoted connection I had to Gyalton Rinpoche.

Listening to Dilgo Khyentse’s frank and moving interview a few days ago on Youtube,  it caused me to reflect again on the severe psychological consequences of humiliation, rejection and betrayal within Buddhist communities, and my own fleeting moments of considering suicide, from 2020 onwards after exposing abuse, corruption and misogynistic bullying by a teacher I had trusted, Sangye Nyenpa Rinpoche.

Kurukulla artwork at the ancient temple in Bali at which Dilgo Khyentse held his ten day tantric sdahanas event. Photo: Adele Tomlin (December 2025).

Several attempted suicide attempts by Dilgo Khyentse Yangsi: Hearing another person’s despair should be a cause of concern, not of satisfaction and rejoicing

After  I listened to Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche’s recent interview on Youtube a few days ago, these questions returned to me. During the conversation, he said that he had attempted to end his life on ten occasions.

One time, he described in vivid detail, about writing a long letter stating he would end his life, and  lying down on railway tracks in just outside Columbo, Sri Lanka and waiting for a train to run over him, intending to die in an exceptionally violent manner:

He reported that in his suicide letter, he apologised to his mother, family, friends and followers that he had “failed them and he wished someone else better would come along and fill his place.”

He said he laid down on the track and could hear the train coming. He then explained that an American tourist who seemed a bit drunk,  suddenly appeared unexpectedly and slapped him on the head and scolded him, saying that “good people often suffer while those who behave badly do not. Go back.” And he explained that he did and realised he “wanted to live” and was grateful for his intervention—something that from a spiritual perspective, could be seen as a form of karmic or divine protection.

He also stated that he had never been a monk, and was making that crystal clear with his dress now, and had previously had relationships with women. But that he had not been a good boyfriend to women, and apologised to them for being a “loser” boyfriend.  He was not going to accuse them of being bad, awful and wrong.  Also, that he was so used to being bullied and told he was stupid and illiterate, that he still found it difficult to accept praise and compliments.

I was relieved that Dilgo Khyentse had found the much needed support and advice at the right time and was still alive to tell the tale. His experience moved and resonated deeply with myself (and no doubt others) who feel betrayed, publicly humiliated or powerless before influential and supposedly “good” people.

He also spoke about people telling him that he should die and kill himself and that he was a “monster”.  At times, he apparently responded that anyone wishing to kill him could come and do so because he was not hiding. There was something courageous and defiant in that response, but it also revealed the degree to which threat, death, criminality and despair had entered the events surrounding him.

Again, it seemed as if those with the power and influence to change that, such as Schechen Rabjam Rinpoche, and the administrators of Schechen monastery in Nepal, did not do so, and left him feeling such despair and hostility. Even encouraging it with their words and actions (or lack of them).

When powerful individuals or institutions possess money, status and loyal networks, they can circulate their version of events far more effectively than an isolated person can respond. Their statements may be treated as authoritative simply because of who they are, while the rejected or accused individual struggles even to be heard (and as I found, even to get a written response on a court record, see more on that below).

Dilgo Khyentse also explained that blessing means that feeling in the heart of genuine love, warmth, being included and not being judged or punished.

My circumstances were different from Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche’s, he comes from a prominent Buddhist family and carries the authority associated with his renowned name. Yet this may also have made his public fall and rejection more devastating. I cannot know the full reality of his experience.

In my own case, I felt largely isolated. A few people expressed support privately, but no-one was willing to defend me publicly or challenge those in positions of spiritual authority. Private sympathy, although appreciated, does not necessarily protect someone from public vilification though, as I discovered.

In any case, I understood how Dilgo Khyentse was driven towards suicide, particularly after such public humiliation and betrayal by teachers and communities to whom he had been deeply connected by Buddhist vows and commitments.

A Lone Woman’s Voice and Vajrayana connection destroyed by unverified admin gossip and online smear campaigns

After the Bali event, despite the bullying and harassment I endured as a lone woman at Gyalton Rinpoche’s teachings in 2025, as he had not personally not indicated any issues with my attending his teachings again, I travelled to the Tai Situpa event in Indonesia and reported positively about the event, and 12^th Tai Situpa’s teachings there. Later that year, following a month-long stay at Sherab Ling Monastery—an experience about which I have written elsewhere—during which I also completed several reports and the first translation of the outline of the Collected Works of 8^th Tai Situpa.

I had also made some sincere suggestions following a vision of White Tara and 8^th Tai Situpa (for a flower garden for the 8^th Tai situpa’s stupa building (whos grounds were in a state of neglect), a small art gallery room for 12^th Tai Situpa’s calligraphy artworks, to ban the sale of meat at a private restaurant on monastery grounds next to the main shrine hallI found myself facing an extreme and very public humiliation in the name of the teacher I had been devotedly following.

Vexatious and unnesessary litigation with no opportunity to defend myself

While I was outside India on 20th April 2026, “emergency” legal proceedings were brought against me using paid lawyers in Delhi High Court (by associates Titi Dolma (Neneng Setiawati) and Thinley Topden) in the name of Gyalton Rinpoche) falsely citing stalking, harassment and defamation since May 2025 onwards.  Seeking a retraining order for teachings that had already finished (1st-17th April 2026).   I was not given the opportunity to defend myself because I had left India one month before, prior to any legal action, on 18th March 2026 for a long-planned holiday with a relative in SE Asia.

The proceedings are false, misleading, vexatious, unnecessary, inappropriate and I strongly dispute all the allegations contained within them, in particular,  false or misleading claims about key dates, timelines, locations, where I had been, what I had done or said, and when particular events had supposedly occurred.

This was no ordinary conflict or legal action though. When someone loses a trusted teacher, a spiritual community, a reputation and a sense of belonging at the same time, it can resemble the collapse of an entire world.  I felt shattered and utterly heartbroken. It was not simply the existence of a legal dispute that affected me. It was what a deep betrayal of everything I held dear about Buddhist conduct and principles, and a total “character assassination” brought in the name of a teacher I had been following since May 2024, and had even chosen to take new refuge vows and a new name at a teaching I attended in Belgium, September 2025.

That was an event that caused great joy and happiness, despite the fact that a few people (in particular Titi Dolma and Damien Jampa) around the teacher were spending a lot of time and energy disrupting my presence there, and trying to prevent my attendance and getting near him physically by spreading false gossip and accusations to ensure others (whom I had never met) felt the same way. That I was a “bad person” to be avoided at all costs. Yet, with the exception of Palpung Vienna, all refused to clearly state the “elephant in the room”, which was the unresolved case of Sangye Nyenpa, where most of the bullying, impersonation and defamation originated from. For more about the case, see my Survivor’s Testimony page here, and also the Appendix below.

Trauma, distress and emotional damage and unbearable “spiritual crime and betrayal”

For a period, this cruel and heartless action to ban and prevent me meeting or attending teaching with a teacher I had devotedly followed, taken refuge and Vajrayana empowerments with,  left me feeling shattered and crying with sorrow uncontrollably almost every day.

It severely overshadowed (almost ruining) a long-awaited and planned vacation with a close relative, and I struggled to comprehend what was happening and why people I had trusted, and who were supposed to be guided by empathy, love and compassion, appeared capable of behaving in underhand and negative ways behind my back, that were petty, cruel, punitive and vindictive.

At my lowest moments, especially due to the inability to even lodge my response in the court, due to the significant financial cost of hiring a lawyer while outside India, and even getting my signatures notarized and apostilled, I felt drained mentally and practically by it, and even occasionally had depressing (yet fleeting) feelings of ending my life. The sadness, disbelief and spiritual betrayal not only by the teacher but also the community felt unbearable.

There was also no avenue of communicating directly with Gyalton Rinpoche and I was denied the opportunity for a private and humane conversation or meeting with him, or anyone connected to him (including his monastic attendants – who had also refused to respond to me in person, or arrange an audience when I stayed for one month at Sherab Ling monastery). Nor had I been given a proper chance to respond before the matter was escalated into litigation.

This was in stark contrast to the warmth and availability I had experienced in 2025, in Vietnam, Taiwan and during a  Berlin walk with Gyalton Rinpoche (something that was enjoyable and without incident, yet close associate Titi Dolma had strongly objected to on seeing photos and video of us together, even though I had never met or spoken to her). This amicable relation was evidenced in a personal Facebook message sent by Gyalton Rinpoche on 23 June 2025 also thanking me for my work and efforts.

So, it felt like a betrayal not only of me as an individual and as a woman, but also of fundamental Buddhist principles concerning the responsible use of power and the compassionate treatment of others, and women in particular.

The experience made me understand why survivors of religious and spiritual abuse, particularly when it severs their connection with a guru, sometimes reach a point of extreme despair where suicide feels like the only viable option. When someone loses a trusted teacher, a spiritual community, a vicious attack on reputation and a sense of belonging at the same time, it can resemble the collapse of an entire world and a major breach of trust.

It also was a stark contrast to how I had experienced other more senior teachers (including Sangye Nyenpa) who had all made themselves easily available and communicated with me on wechat and whatsapp, without any issues or concerns.

“Never refuse anyone an audience with me”: The former Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

Moreover, this distant and cold treatment stood in stark contrast to a personal anecdote I had once read (by Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse as a I recall) about the former Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, a tantric lay practitioner married with a wife and consorts. He was said to sleep on a simple bench outside the monastery’s main temple, without even a locked door separating him from those who wished to approach him. According to the account, he instructed his attendant never to turn away anyone who came seeking an audience or wishing to ask a question. A visitor might have travelled a great distance, he explained, or might be carrying an urgent concern, experiencing profound distress, or desperately needing guidance. The attendant should therefore always try to find some way for that person to meet him.

I remember being deeply moved by this story. Such accessibility and concern for others are undoubtedly rare, particularly today. Teachers may, of course, require reasonable boundaries to protect their health, time and privacy. Nevertheless, there is a considerable difference between maintaining appropriate boundaries and wrongly treating a peaceful follower as though she presents a physical threat.

I was a woman travelling alone. I had never physically threatened, harassed or bullied anyone, and especially not Gyalton Rinpoche, whom I had always revered and praised publicly and privately during my attendance at his teachings in 2025. The only people I had taken issue with was the conduct of his close associates who intentionally disrupted my presence at the teachings spreading malicious gossip, and Palpung Vienna who actively barred me from attending an Avalokiteshvara empowerment (the deity of compassion!) due to their “samaya with Sangye Nyenpa”. Admitting in writing they were discriminating against a lone whistleblower and survivor.

Suicide Threats as Manipulation, Distress and Coercion: the case of Sangye Nyenpa Rinpoche

Threats of suicide had entered my earlier experience in another way prior to these cases too.

In later 2019, when I told Sangye Nyenpa Rinpoche that I intended to inform his monastery and family members of the sexual misconduct towards myself and other women, after discovering the major deception of myself and other women calling them liars, bad and crazy, he told me on several occasions that he felt suicidal and would kill himself if I exposed what he had been doing.  He also threatened to distribute private intimate photographs that I had sent during our communications, which he had encouraged me to do and which I had entrusted him with (see more on that here).

At the time, I interpreted the suicide threats primarily as emotional manipulation intended to frighten me and prevent me from speaking. However, I cannot know with certainty whether they were entirely manipulative, reflected genuine distress or arose from a confused combination of both.

Regardless of the intention, it is an extraordinarily heavy burden to place upon another person. No one should be made to feel that telling the truth, setting a boundary or disclosing alleged misconduct will make her responsible for someone else’s death.

Every suicide threat should be treated seriously. But taking it seriously does not mean submitting to coercion. The appropriate response is to encourage urgent professional help and, where necessary, contact people capable of intervening. It should not require the recipient of the threat to surrender her autonomy, remain silent about harm or continue an unwanted relationship.

There is an important ethical difference between experiencing genuine suicidal despair and using the threat of suicide to control another person. Yet outsiders may not always be able to determine whether a threat is wholly manipulative, wholly genuine or a mixture of both.  This is why suicidal statements require both compassion and boundaries.

When Those Teachers Presented as Refuges Are Themselves in Despair and Recovery from Abuse

On a more general note, there is another deeply troubling question raised by these experiences, particularly for the disciples and followers.  What does it reveal about Tibetan Buddhist and Vajrayāna communities when people presented as great spiritual masters speak publicly about having been abused or raped when young, experiencing profound psychological suffering, threatening suicide or repeatedly attempting to end their lives?

This should not be treated merely as an individual weakness or private failure. It suggests that something may be seriously wrong within the institutions, communities and systems that formed them.

As I wrote about before in relation to the public revelation of Kalu Rinpoche’s own rape and abuse in 2012/13, the silence of his teachers, including 17^th Karmapa and 12^th Tai Situpa, was deafening. I even went to see the 17^th Karmapa in a private audience, to ask him why he did not speak up publicly about it and offer some support.

Students are encouraged to regard teachers as guides away from delusion, despair and destructive states of mind. Such figures may be presented as having realised emptiness, subdued the afflictions and revealed awakened qualities beyond those of ordinary practitioners.

Students therefore can reasonably ask: if those held up as spiritual refuges are themselves contemplating suicide, threatening suicide or trying to harm or get followers to harm themselves what does this tell us about the way Buddhist authority and realisation are understood?

It does not necessarily mean that the person is fraudulent or entirely without spiritual insight. Trauma, depression and suicidal despair can affect people regardless of intelligence, education, title or philosophical knowledge. A person may understand subtle teachings intellectually and still carry deep unresolved wounds.

Nor should anyone experiencing suicidal thoughts be shamed because others regard them as a teacher. Religious status does not remove human vulnerability, and forcing spiritual figures to conceal mental distress may increase the danger.

Nevertheless, these accounts should make us question the tendency to assume that titles, reincarnation status, monastic rank or public devotion are reliable proof of emotional health or spiritual realisation.

A child recognised as a reincarnate lama may be surrounded by ceremony, privilege and devotion, yet still lack safety, emotional care, freedom and trustworthy adults. Being placed upon a throne does not protect a young person from abuse, loneliness or trauma. In some circumstances, the religious status surrounding that child may make it harder to disclose what is happening or develop an identity outside the institution.

When senior teachers and community leaders fail to model honesty, emotional maturity, compassion and ethical responsibility, younger teachers may inherit not only a lineage of teachings but also a lineage of silence, secrecy and unresolved harm.

This is why the question cannot be reduced to, “Why did this person become suicidal?”

We must also ask what happened to him, who was responsible for his care, what forms of conduct were normalised around him, whether allegations of abuse were investigated, whether genuine psychological help was available and whether the community responded with compassion or with denial, humiliation and exclusion.

The same questions should be asked whenever survivors, whistleblowers, students or teachers become suicidal after reporting abuse or experiencing public rejection.

Buddhism teaches that suffering arises through causes and conditions. Suicidal despair does not appear from nowhere. It may develop through trauma, shame, isolation, loss, coercion, untreated mental illness, public humiliation and the destruction of trusted relationships.

Teachers do not need to be superhuman or emotionally invulnerable. However, the power entrusted to them can profoundly affect the lives of students. When a teacher is deeply unstable, traumatised or coercive, both the teacher and the people around him may be placed at risk.

Compassion therefore requires more than protecting a teacher’s reputation. It requires allowing teachers to be recognised as human beings who may need psychological help, while also protecting students from being made responsible for their emotional survival.

It also requires communities to stop confusing silence with harmony.

Concealing abuse, discouraging disclosure and attacking those who speak do not preserve the Dharma. They preserve unhealthy systems.

Buddhist ethics and principles: Suicide, self-immolations and the Precious Human Life

Buddhist teachings generally regard suicide as an act of harm because it deliberately destroys a human life, including one’s own.

The Buddhist teaching on the precious human life is particularly relevant. A life in which we possess freedom, intelligence, functioning faculties and access to the Dharma is considered exceptionally difficult to obtain. It provides an opportunity to develop wisdom, compassion and liberation.

For this reason, deliberately ending that life is not regarded as a desirable solution, even when circumstances feel unbearable.

There has also been continuing debate about Tibetan self-immolation undertaken as political protest. With a recent case in New York, USA by a Tibetan male.  Whatever courage, desperation or political intention such acts may express, deliberately destroying one’s body is extremely difficult to reconcile with the Buddhist commitment to non-killing and non-harming.

However, saying that suicide is karmically harmful must never become an excuse to condemn people who die by suicide or to frighten those who are already suffering.

A compassionate response must recognise that the person’s anguish has become overwhelming. Moral judgement alone neither saves lives nor addresses the conditions producing despair.

The Buddhist teaching on impermanence can offer a small opening. No emotion, relationship, reputation, institution or crisis remains unchanged forever. Even when pain feels permanent, it arises through conditions and will change as those conditions change.  Emptiness similarly teaches that no event or identity exists in the absolute and fixed way in which it may appear during a moment of despair. The person described by hostile people is not the totality of who we are. A court filing, public allegation, community judgement or online post does not possess an independent and permanent power to define a human being.

These teachings are not substitutes for practical help or mental-health treatment. Yet they may loosen the conviction that the present moment is inescapable.

Compassion can also become a means of survival. This does not mean denying injustice or excusing cruelty.

We may oppose falsehoods, defend ourselves and seek accountability while attempting not to become consumed by hatred.

The Danger of Spiritual Bypassing and the Culture of Silence

It is also essential to make clear that suicidal thoughts, psychological trauma and extreme isolation arising from spiritual betrayal are not matters to be treated lightly.

Teachings on emptiness, impermanence and non-attachment can provide profound support during periods of suffering. They helped me greatly. Yet those teachings must never be used to bypass, minimise or dismiss the suffering of people who report abuse, coercion, intimidation, public humiliation or betrayal within Buddhist communities.

It is not compassionate to respond to a person describing severe harm by simply telling her that everything is empty, that all things are impermanent or that she should let go of attachment. Such responses may sound spiritually sophisticated, but they can become another form of cruelty when they are used to avoid listening to the facts of what has happened.

Emptiness does not mean that actions have no consequences. Impermanence does not mean that trauma is insignificant. Compassion does not mean remaining silent about injustice.

When someone reports serious misconduct or what she experiences as a profound spiritual violation, the appropriate response is to listen, offer support, investigate responsibly and help restore safety and dignity.

In my own case, one of the additional betrayals came from people who publicly presented themselves as advocates for survivors. When I approached some of these women with my testimony, I did not experience curiosity, care or a willingness to investigate. Instead, I sometimes felt met with suspicion or disdain, as though speaking about my experience were itself evidence that I was seeking attention.

My account was not investigated, shared or publicly supported. At times, there seemed to be a preference for discussing anonymous or generalised survivor narratives rather than engaging directly with a named woman offering a detailed first-person testimony.  I found this deeply painful and disappointing.

Advocacy is relatively easy when it remains abstract. It is more difficult when supporting an actual survivor may bring social, institutional or professional consequences. The true test of advocacy is not whether someone publishes general statements about supporting women. It is how that person responds when a real woman approaches with a complicated, uncomfortable and potentially costly account.

I had a similar experience with teachers who had publicly encouraged survivors to speak. When I did speak, I was met with silence, little or no advice and what felt like a firmly closed door. The communication simply ended.

Being ignored or “ghosted” in such circumstances can become another form of abandonment. The survivor has already taken the considerable risk of disclosing painful and potentially damaging information. To receive no meaningful response from someone who publicly claims to encourage such disclosure may deepen the original wound.

This problem extends beyond those accused of direct misconduct. It includes the people who look away, the institutions that protect reputations, the advocates who selectively decide which survivors are worthy of support and the friends who withdraw because association with the survivor has become socially dangerous.

Not every woman responded in this way. Some people offered me genuine friendship, kindness and private support, and I will always remember them with gratitude. Their compassion mattered greatly.  Yet very few were prepared to offer that support publicly.

This reluctance is understandable to some extent. People fear losing access to teachers, communities, opportunities, funding and friendships. They may also fear becoming targets themselves. In my experience, these fears were not imaginary. People who expressed even modest public support for me, including friendly comments on social media, sometimes found themselves criticised or targeted in turn.

This creates a powerful culture of silence.

When everyone sees what may happen to the person who speaks—or to anyone who publicly supports her—private sympathy replaces public solidarity. The survivor is repeatedly told in private that people understand, while the public narrative remains dominated by those with greater institutional power.

Private kindness can help someone survive. But private support alone cannot correct public defamation, institutional exclusion or collective misrepresentation.

The result is a community in which many people may privately doubt what is being said or done, yet almost no one is willing to challenge it openly. Such a system can continue indefinitely because fear protects it more effectively than truth does.

Emptiness Without Compassion Is Not Wisdom

The teachings on emptiness and impermanence remain vital. They can help us understand that no injury, identity or public judgement is fixed forever. They can loosen our attachment to reputation and prevent suffering from becoming the whole of our self-understanding.

But emptiness without compassion becomes cold abstraction.

If someone is drowning, it is not enough to explain that water, drowning and the self are all empty of inherent existence. Wisdom responds to the conventional reality of suffering. It reaches out a hand.

The two truths—ultimate and conventional—must remain together.

Ultimately, all phenomena are empty, changing and dependent upon causes and conditions. Conventionally, words can destroy reputations, institutions can exclude people, threats can cause fear and betrayal can push a person towards suicidal despair.

Understanding emptiness should make us more responsive to these conditions because we recognise that suffering can be changed. It should not make us indifferent.

Similarly, compassion does not require uncritical belief or the abandonment of discernment. It requires that we refuse cruelty, listen seriously and avoid adding further harm.

People experiencing spiritual betrayal need more than philosophical instruction. They need witnesses. They need people willing to say publicly that humiliation, retaliation and collective exclusion are not acceptable ways to resolve conflict.

They need advocates who act like advocates when there is something to lose. They need teachers who are willing to open the door rather than close it. They need friends who understand that even a small public expression of solidarity may help counter the profound isolation created by organised silence.

Most importantly, they need their suffering to be treated as real.

Trauma Is Not Entertainment and the Danger of Spiritual Bypassing”

Suicidal thoughts arising from such experiences are not theatre, attention-seeking or a dramatic spiritual failure. They are signs that the person’s emotional world has been placed under intolerable pressure.

This is why I felt uncomfortable when I recently encountered fictional stories of survivor experiences promoted in Tricycle Buddhist magazine publication.  Fiction can certainly explore trauma, create empathy and protect identities.  Nevertheless, as someone who has experienced serious personal and practical consequences after speaking publicly, I found the idea unsettling and in “poor taste”.

Especially as such writers, women and advocates were completely ignoring and not supporting real-life testimonies and public harassment and defamation of survivors, such as myself.

For example, even though I have written for, and been featured as a Buddhist teacher in Tricycle magazine, in this article, they ommitted any reference or online source to my own first-hand testimony of misconduct and the aftermath bullying and smear campaign I reported from 2020 onwards.

It revealed that survivor trauma is seen as material for literary interest, institutional branding (readers pay to access Tricycle content) or detached consumption while living survivors (such as myself) remain unheard or unsupported by the same scholars and writers publishing their fictional stories for public praise and attention.

The question is not whether fiction should ever address abuse. Literature has always explored suffering and may reveal truths conventional reporting cannot. The question is whether such work illuminates survivors’ realities or turns them into aesthetic objects while real people asking difficult questions are dismissed.

A carefully written fictional account may create insight. But it cannot substitute for listening to people speaking in their own names about what happened. Nor should institutions prefer polished or safely anonymised narratives because they are less threatening than a living survivor challenging named teachers and communities.

The measure of a Buddhist community is not only the beauty of its teachings, rituals and public statements. It is how it responds when someone is suffering, when a survivor speaks, when a teacher fails and when the truth threatens the comfort of the institution.  That is where compassion becomes more than a word.

A personal account of survival and inspiration: Returning to the Buddha Within

Someone recently asked me to write more about what has helped pulled me through this period and what might help others facing similar circumstances—people who feel isolated, disbelieved or betrayed by those they loved and trusted.

My answer is: return within. Return to the Buddha within you. Return to your Buddha-nature and to your own capacity for love, compassion, joy, courage and wisdom.

We are not only the story others tell about us. At the deepest level, we possess the capacity to awaken.

When other people misrepresent you, tell you that you said things you did not say or attempt to define your character through allegations you know are untrue, it is important not to surrender your sense of who you are.

You know what you intended. You know what you experienced. You know whether you acted sincerely.

Other people may refuse to hear your response. Circumstances may prevent it from being placed formally on a court record or they continue repeating accusations despite your attempts to correct them. At some point, however painful it is, you may have to accept that you cannot force people to examine the truth.

Acceptance does not mean agreeing that a falsehood is correct. Nor does it mean abandoning efforts to defend yourself when meaningful avenues remain. It means recognising the boundary between what you can control and what you cannot.

You can tell the truth. You can preserve evidence. You can respond honestly. You can seek justice and ask to be heard. You cannot compel another person to become fair-minded, compassionate or willing to reconsider a position to which they have become attached.

If something is true, it remains true whether other people believe it or not.

Power can give falsehoods the appearance of authority. Yet authority and truth are not the same thing.

For me, truth, compassion and the view of emptiness became great protectors.

The only answer I can give is to remain as truthful, compassionate and ethically grounded as possible.  Do not allow persecution to fill you with hatred. Do not answer lies with further lies. Do not become consumed by the wish to humiliate or destroy those whom you believe have harmed you. The moment we imitate the conduct we condemn, we risk becoming trapped in the same destructive state of mind.

This does not mean suppressing anger or pretending injustice has not occurred. Anger can alert us that a boundary has been violated and give us energy to act. But it must be watched carefully so it does not harden into cruelty, hatred or revenge.

The greatest protection is to protect the heart. Protect your love. Protect your compassion. Protect your honesty and sincerity. Protect your commitment to non-harm. Protect the truth as you have genuinely known and experienced it.

For me, this is what taking refuge in Buddha-nature means.

Buddha-nature is not a comforting fantasy that tells us we are already perfect in our ordinary conduct. It is the potential for awakening that remains present even when we are wounded, humiliated or overwhelmed. It is our capacity to return to wisdom rather than delusion, compassion rather than hatred and courage rather than despair.

We are not only the story others tell about us. We are not the accusations made against us.

We are not the community that excludes us or the teacher who abandons us.

No One Can Erase a Sincere Offering or Good Deeds

When people try to sever a spiritual connection—or when a teacher whom we trusted appears to betray or reject us—the natural response may be anger, bitterness or revenge. Yet revenge does not restore the relationship, heal the wound or protect the heart.

However heartbreaking the betrayal may be, we can try instead to wish those involved well. We can wish that they develop greater wisdom and compassion and cease causing harm to themselves and others.

Forgiveness does not mean pretending their conduct was acceptable. It does not require abandoning truth, accountability or appropriate boundaries. It means refusing to allow another person’s actions to transform our pain into hatred.

An offering does not cease to be generous because it is rejected. A sincere act of service is not erased by later criticism.

It can be especially devastating when people attempt to prevent someone from attending Dharma teachings or maintaining a sincere spiritual connection. The pain is even deeper when that relationship has involved years of voluntary service to the guru, Dharma and beings: transcribing teachings, producing translations, making offerings and devoting substantial time, energy and personal resources to the Dharma.

In my own case, I offered such work sincerely. I proposed a flower garden for a building associated with the Eighth Tai Situ and prepared what I understand to have been the first English translation of an outline of the Eighth Tai Situ’s collected works. I spent considerable time transcribing, translating and sharing Buddhist teachings.

I know the motivation with which I undertook that work. I did it with a wish to benefit the Dharma and sentient beings. Whether particular teachers or institutions valued those contributions does not alter the intention with which they were made.

An offering does not cease to be generous because it is rejected. A sincere act of service is not erased by later criticism, exclusion or humiliation.

This is especially important for anyone whose voluntary work has later been dismissed because they became a survivor, critic or whistleblower. A community’s changing attitude does not retroactively contaminate everything that person previously offered.

If our work was imperfect, we can improve it. If we made mistakes, we can correct them. If criticism is accurate, we can learn from it. But anonymous, unsupported and false allegations and personal humiliation and cruel shunning and exclusion should not be confused with constructive criticism.

Nor should we define our worth through the refusal of others to recognise us.

Where others misrepresent us, our task is to remain truthful. Where they behave cruelly, our task is to avoid becoming cruel in return. Where they diminish what was offered, we can quietly remember the purity of the original intention.

Spiritual betrayal can make us feel that everything we offered was wasted. Yet a sincere act is never entirely wasted. It shapes the mind of the person who performed it, may benefit people we never meet and becomes part of the ethical direction of a life.

No teacher, institution, critic or court document can erase that.

We can therefore let go of revenge while retaining discernment. We can protect ourselves without hatred. We can continue speaking truthfully without becoming consumed by the need to defeat every accusation. We can wish others well while refusing to place ourselves again in circumstances where they can cause further harm.

Most importantly, we can rejoice that we used part of our precious human life to create, translate, protect or serve something beyond ourselves that speaks for itself in terms of content, effort, ability, prior study and devotion.

Adele Tomlin, 21st July 2026.

APPENDIX

The Delhi High Court case brought in the name of Gyalton Rinpoche

For my timeline of this case and events that led up to it, which I have tried (and failed) for three months to lodge my applications and response on the court record due to continual formatting or filing defect objections (not related to the actual statement or evidence provided), see here: Comprehensive timeline in Gyalton Rinpoche case latest version 24 June 2026. 

Key dates:

15th March 2026: reported three incidents of serious verbal harassment and intimidation by a European woman, and monk during the final week of my one month stay at Sherab Ling monastery, India.

17th March 2026: Insetad of investigating the safety issue, Lama Dragpa (genersal secretary of Sherab Ling, india) issued a draconian ban of Sherab Ling, and all other Palpung centres, forbidding me from ever attending teachings of Gyalton Rinpoche again. As reasons,  he cites hi personal dislike of the White Tara artwork, suggestion to raise private funding for a flower garden at the golden stupa grounds (which were neglected), and my writing on Gelugpa history in Tibet and the Dalai Lama institution and its relation with Tai Situpa, as well as “inappropriate” conduct with Gyalton Rinpoche, based on hearsay gossip of a few administrators.

18th March 2026: i left India with no intention to return or attend Gyalton Rinpoche’s teachings

1st- 17th April 2026: Delhi teachings dates attended by Gyalton Rinpoche

20th April 2026: “emergency” restraining order filed and obtained by lawyers acting in the name of Gyalton Rinpoche

The High Court  judge (in my absence and without a defence to consider)  was actively mislef to believe the teachings were ongoing in Delhi and India after that and in May 2026, and that there was an “imminent danger and threat” of my attending and disrupting the teachings (FALSE), among several other false and defamatory accusations that were unproven.

Inadmissible, false and derogatory anonymous evidence and “Topden” signature

One of the most disturbing aspects of the Delhi case was the signature on the sworn affidavit and Power of Attorney signature, being that of “Topden” and not Gyalton Rinpoche’s actual name. There was no explanation given for this difference. All filings are paperless and online I was told. So it would be easy for someone to file a case in someone else’s name if there were able to impersonate another person, for example without it being verbally verified and checked with the named person.

Also, their reliance on “screenshot” (unsourced and unverified) material from an anonymous online blog in their Plaint itself. This content had previously been swiftly removed for breaching cyberbullying and harassment guidelines on WordPress and Blogspot, while an associated YouTube (@pestcontrol) channel had been geo-blocked in the United Kingdom, my home country.

Since April 2025, the unidentified author had obsessively published extremely derogatory descriptions of me, including calling me a piece of excrement, a “sex pest” and other abusive names as well as stalking, and making up false claims such as my having lied about being a barrister, being funded by a political group, and working with a team of people not alone.  All without a shred of substantive evidence or identifiable authorship.

This stalking and harassment campaign, which started in April 2025 and is ongoing (the author moved all the banned content to Github repository for software coding) I had ignored because I never thought anyone with intelligence and compassion would ever take it seriously, and see it for what it was: an obsessive, hateful, malicious and derogatory campaign against a lone woman, with the sole aim of character assassination without accountability.

However, this anonymous material was then referred to in formal court pleadings as apparent evidence of my supposedly bad character. To see screenshots of online abuse reproduced within legal documents was profoundly unsettling and “creepy”. Instead of being treated as unverified and unlawful harassment and misogyny, it had been given legitimacy by people and institutions with greater authority than the anonymous individual who had originally published it.

In addition, inadmissible evidence was snuck into the “emergency order” Plaint of unverified, electronic emails, messages and so on from a few named individuals based in Europe, about alleged incidents that had happened over nine months previously. Incidents that were all outside the jurisdiction of an Indian court to investigate and adjudicate on.

More broadly, I experienced the litigation as a complete betrayal of trust and of the Buddhist principles of dialogue, reconciliation, compassion and loving-kindness. From my perspective, there had been no need for such a severe escalation. I had not first been offered a meaningful opportunity to discuss the concerns, answer the accusations or attempt any form of personal or mediated resolution.

Defending myself has also been extremely difficult. Legal representation is costly, particularly for someone living outside India (thousands of GBP just to get responses filed on court record and sworn signatures). For three months, I attempted to place my responses and applications to vacate the emergency order and suit before the Delhi High Court, only for my documents to be continually returned by the Registry because of procedural, formatting or filing defects. Each time I corrected the listed problems, further objections appeared.  I am going to be launching a GoFundme campaign soon to raise money for legal funds, just to hopefully get a written response on the court record at least!

This gave me a new understanding of how difficult it can be for a person without legal representation to place even a basic response formally on the court record. Two Indian people (who know the legal system and culture well) advised me simply to ignore the case. Yet ignoring serious public allegations has consequences of its own, especially when reputation, livelihood and access to spiritual communities are at stake. But also, I believe that justice, truth and accountability for abuse of power and bullying and harassment deserve a place on a court and public record too.

The experience felt not only like public humiliation but also like an enormous breach of samaya. I felt that a profound heart connection had been severed with a teacher whom I had followed with trust, faith and devotion.

Seeking an audience with the guru and being refused, without even a glance

I had come to Sherab Ling at my own time and expense and stayed with permission of the guesthouse and monastery authorities for four weeks in total.  I wanted to be in the presence of Gyalton Rinpoche again for devotional reasons. In particular, I wanted advice about the dishonest and bullying way I had been treated in Europe and Asia by people close to Gyalton Rinpoche.  In those circumstances, the complete refusal to allow me any opportunity to speak with him seemed both bizarre and deeply painful.

The experience also reminded me of earlier attempts in 2020 to seek help from teachers associated with the wider Palpung administration, including Tai Situpa and Mingyur Rinpoche. I had approached them hoping to receive guidance and support concerning the misconduct and dishonesty by Sangye Nyenpa towards me and other women. Yet gaining access was difficult, and even when I was eventually able to raise my concerns, I received little to no substantive response. Thereafter, the door was firmly closed to any further discussion.

This was difficult to reconcile with the Buddhist principles publicly taught and promoted within these communities: truthfulness, transparency, ethical responsibility, loving-kindness and compassion. When individuals report serious harm or misconduct, those principles should not remain merely inspirational ideals. They should inform how people are listened to and treated, especially when they approach a spiritual teacher in distress or in search of guidance.

The contrast between the accessibility attributed to the former Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche and my experience with Gyalton Rinpoche, in March 2026 was therefore striking. I had travelled a long distance to India to attend the Losar events. Gyalton Rinpoche was physically present and staying at Sherab Ling at the same time, yet I was given no opportunity to speak with him or request his advice, despite making several polite requests of his attendants who told me “he was in retreat”. I was not evenallowed to offer a white scarf at the Losar event to Gyalton Rinpoche, and instead guided to offer it to 12^th Tai Situpa seated right next to him on a higher throne.

After the Losar New Year events in February 2026, I was permitted to stay for another two weeks until 15 March 2026. I was informed that both Gyalton Rinpoche and 12th Tai Situpa had gone into retreat. So I decided to use my time there to practice, and research and translate the first English translation of the outline of the 8th Tai Situpa’s Collected Works. Not an easy task, as I documented here.

If I saw Gyalton Rinpoche’s  monk attendant, I would ask him if Gyalton Rinpoche was still in retreat, but was always refused the possibility of an audience. On one occasion, shortly before I left,  when I asked again if I could get an audience before leavings, his attendant simply waved me away with his hand, without speaking, as though I were unworthy even of a courteous answer.

The gesture was dismissive and dehumanising and impolite. It reminded me painfully of the similar frustration I had felt being unable to meet again with my main guru up until that point, 17^th Karmapa, Ogyen Trinley Dorje, who never returned to India after leaving in 2017. Whom I had waited years during COVID for him to return to India and realised in 2022 that was not going to happen, when I finally took the decision to leave India (more on that in other chapters).

Importantly, this blank and cold refusal of Gyalton Rinpoche’s attendants to give an audience, occurred before the Delhi court proceedings had been initiated and while I was residing at Sherab Ling with the permission of the guesthouse and the relevant authorities. So, I was not trespassing or attempting to force access to anyone. I was asking whether it might be possible to speak respectfully with a teacher whom I had devotedly followed and whose guidance and presence I had travelled a considerable distance, at a financial cost. Yet, I also felt not only that I was being inhumanely ignored and dismissied but was being guided to put my devotion and energy into that of his teacher, 12^th Tai Situpa, whom I did not feel that same devotion or connection with, despite his more senior status.

The experience was heartbreaking. It was not how I expected to be treated as a woman, as a Buddhist practitioner, or as a follower seeking compassionate advice from a spiritual teacher and his close associates.

Unbeknown to me at the time though, when I was trying to research and translate the outline of the 8th Tai Situpa’s Collected Works, Titi Dolma was desperately contacting people in Europe and Vietnam to gather electronic written statements about alleged incidents over ten months ago for some purpose,which I was completely unaware of while staying there.  Was I being set up for something if I had gone to Delhi for the teachings? After what happened even though I had left India and not attended the teachings, suggest that things might have been a lot worse if I had stayed and gone to the teachings.