Back to Throne
In a remote Himalayan village, a five-year-old boy takes his place as the reincarnation of a Tibetan Buddhist master.
The full story can be read exclusively in the desktop edition.
Words and images by Renato Amoroso
Khan, Tibet, 2014
Between July and August of 2014, in one of the most isolated corners of the Himalayas — the Khan region, straddling the border between China and Tibet — a ceremony unfolded that seemed to belong to another age. It was the enthronement of Tsering Dorje, a boy just five years old, recognized by Tibetan Buddhist tradition as the 20th reincarnation of the venerable Denma Gonsar Rinpoche, a revered master who passed away in 2005 and whose influence still echoes across the mountains.
The journey to witness it began in the windswept city of Yushu, in China’s far northwest. From there, a caravan of vehicles pushed deeper into the high-altitude wilderness for nearly eight hours. The road unspooled across an endless expanse of tundra-like grass, broken only by the silhouettes of distant peaks. There were no villages, no signs of human life — just the stark beauty of snowcapped mountains and a silence so vast it seemed to swallow time.
Then, as the sun lowered, a cluster of buildings emerged from the horizon: a monastery and a scattering of small houses. Rising above them all was a ten-story temple dedicated to Lama Tsongkhapa (1357–1419), founder of the Gelugpa lineage and one of the most influential Buddhist teachers of his era, whose works remain a cornerstone of Tibetan learning. The temple, like the village around it, was built by the Khampas — a people unlike the urban Tibetans of Lhasa. Nomadic by heritage, the Khampas are tall, broad-shouldered, and known in history as fierce warriors. Yet their welcome was warm, their pride tempered by a deep sense of hospitality.
The pilgrimage had been made possible by the invitation of the venerable T.Y.S. Lama Gangchen Tulku Rinpoche — an eminent Tibetan master, my guru, and a direct descendant of a distinguished spiritual lineage. Lama Gangchen had been a close friend of Denma Gonsar. Lama Michel Rinpoche — a teacher, friend, and disciple of Lama Gangchen since the age of four — was also at the heart of this journey, guiding it with the quiet presence of one who understands the weight of tradition.
In this rare meeting of the ancient and the present, the Himalayas felt less like a backdrop and more like a living witness — holding, as they have for centuries, the stories of those who come seeking the timeless.
A Tulku
Denma Gonsar — pronounced Demo Gonsar — or, more precisely, his previous incarnation, was a towering figure in the region. Imprisoned during China’s Cultural Revolution, he later gained the trust of the Chinese government, which came to recognize his importance in aiding this remote area. Together, they brought significant help to the Khampa people.
It was for this reason that anticipation for his reincarnation was immense — a sentiment that explains the presence of some 200,000 pilgrims, despite the punishing distances and the isolation of the region.
In Tibetan Buddhism, the title Tulku is bestowed upon great masters who are believed to have chosen to reincarnate. As Lama Michel explains: “The word Tulku refers to a great master who chooses to be reborn consciously — in that body, in that circumstance. When a person dies carrying such spiritual inheritances, they have the freedom to choose how and when to be reborn. A Tulku is someone who has achieved a high level of spiritual development, and when they reincarnate, those realizations remain intact. Our most subtle mind, the deepest aspect of each of us, carries into the next life. The idea is: let us recognize this child so we can provide the right conditions for their education, allowing them to cultivate and access the positive imprints they carried from a previous life.”
“The word Tulku refers to a great master who chooses to be reborn consciously — in that body, in that circumstance. When a person dies carrying such inheritances, they have the freedom to choose how and when to be reborn.” - Lama Michel
Before dawn, in the antechamber of the main temple where the enthronement would unfold.
The Ceremony
The enthronement lasted an entire day, beginning in the stillness of night at 3 a.m. The gonpa — the temple that normally holds about 500 practitioners — was overflowing. Nearly 4,000 monks from 60 different monasteries squeezed inside for the pre-dawn ritual. The only laypeople present were members of Lama Gangchen’s and Lama Michel’s entourage. The air was charged with a palpable tension.
The young Tulku arrived around 4 a.m., sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd. He prostrated before the altar, then climbed the steps to the throne, settling into the seat with an unmistakable air of belonging. What followed was remarkable: from memory, he began to recite prayers — long, intricate passages — with flawless precision.
It was an arresting scene. At four in the morning, in front of thousands of seasoned monks, this small boy, his voice still that of a child, spoke with a calm authority that filled the room. The monks, in unison, echoed each verse.
By around 8 a.m., now formally enthroned, the 20th Denma Gonsar Rinpoche stepped outside to address the crowd — more than 200,000 people stretched across the open plain. An ocean of humanity, and yet he seemed utterly unfazed. He continued his recitations as the crowd, reaching hundreds of meters in every direction, responded in a single resonant voice.
From the far reaches of Tibet, pilgrims converged on the remote monastery.
"There are many examples of young Tulkus who can memorize long texts, dozens of pages long, after a single reading. This is possible because their minds are pure, and thus they have easy access to knowledge accumulated in previous lives." - Lama Gangchen
Long, crowded lines formed by those seeking blessings.
After all the ceremonies and celebrations, the young Denma Gonsar traveled to Tashilhunpo Monastery in Shigatse, in central Tibet. Tashilhunpo is one of the foremost centers of Tibetan culture and scholarship. Over the next 15 years, the Tulku will follow a rigorous course of study in Buddhism, under strict protocols. His masters and tutors are being appointed, and two disciples from his previous life are already caring for him. His training will encompass philosophy, logic, art, Sanskrit, poetry, medicine, astrology, and a range of other disciplines.
Treated with the honors of a head of state and surrounded by tight security, Tsering Dorje has been officially recognized by the Chinese government as the reincarnation of the 20th Denma Gonsar — a surprising development given China’s political stance on religious authority. Though the enthronement took place within Chinese territory, the entire event was conducted according to Tibetan traditions, beliefs, and language.
Since 2011, the Chinese authorities — through the State Administration for Religious Affairs — have decreed, for political reasons, that the official recognition of Tulkus requires state approval. Despite these restrictions, it was a remarkable reversal: a government that is officially agnostic, and historically wary of religious organizations, not only acknowledged a major spiritual leader but also affirmed the existence of his reincarnation.
Days of prayer, and days of celebration as well.
Nuns working in the monastery’s kitchen during the days of ceremony.
For the Khampas, an ancient nomadic heritage means generations have grown up living in tents.
Even within monastery walls, daily life now bears the marks of the digital age.
Khampa dress is its own form of expression:
vibrant, unexpected color pairings and distinctive head ornaments that have marked their style since childhood.
The recognition of the reincarnation of a Tulku of such magnitude is, for millions, an opportunity to express their shared spirituality — and to hold onto the hope that, in the years ahead, the young 20th Denma Gonsar Rinpoche will leave a legacy even more vibrant and generous than in his previous life.
May he be welcomed and blessed with every fortune — or, as the Tibetans say, tashi delek.
Even within monastery walls, daily life now bears the marks of the digital age.
