THE RECOGNITION OF THE NEW PANCHEN LAMA WILL SUSTAIN THE BUDDHIST FAITH, WRITES GRAHAM HUTCHINGS, RECENTLY IN KUMBUM LAMASERY, CHINA

THE TIRED pilgrim lowered herself flat on the ground until her forehead rested on the sandy path. Then, her face coated with dust, she raised herself, one step closer to the goal of her protracted but sacred journey: the lamasery of Kumbum, one of the holiest shrines of Tibetan Buddhism.

Once at the temple, the woman made a clockwise circuit of its perimeter in the same fashion, prostrating herself at each step. Then she stood to spin half a dozen coloured prayer wheels on their noisy axles before falling, exhausted, on her knees in front of a statue of the Buddha.

Kumbum, or Taer Si, as it is known in Chinese, is the birthplace of Tsong Khapa, the founder of the Yellow Sect of Tibetan Buddhism whose chief representatives are the Panchen Lama and the Dalai Lama.

Until a few days ago, both spiritual leaders seemed conspicuous by their absence. But then the Dalai Lama, who fled his homeland in 1959 after an abortive uprising against Chinese rule, declared he had recognised Gedhun Choekyi Nyima, six-year-old son of nomads from Tibet's Lhari region, as the next reincarnation of the Panchen Lama.

The last one - the 10th to occupy the second most important position in Tibetan Buddhism - died in January 1989, aged 50. Beijing's leaders formally claim the right of "approval" they inherited from their imperial predecessors and yesterday rejected the Dalai Lama's designation of a new Panchen Lama as "illegal and invalid".

Tibetan Buddhism is no stranger to crisis and controversy. But for most Tibetans, the Dalai Lama's word, which can be expected to spread rapidly through their troubled homeland, will be good enough.

"I have taken upon myself this historical and spiritual task with a strong sense of responsibility," the Dalai Lama's statement said.

Given its chilly relations with the Dalai Lama, China's rejection of his choice comes as no surprise. China may well proceed to designate a rival Panchen Lama of its own.

But Tibetan Buddhism is no stranger to crisis and controversy. Legend has it that when Tsong Khapa was born in 1357, he possessed a white beard and a love of wisdom. He promptly went into retreat, took instructions from a stranger even wiser than himself, and launched a movement which shattered the existing forms of Tibetan Buddhism, and survives to this day.

The scene of such a propitious birth quickly became the object of pilgrimage in addition to a monastic seat. Kumbum's eight stone stupas commemorating martyred lamas, and its dazzling temple roofs rising up the gentle hillside, have been a beacon for the Buddhist faithful ever since.

Partly for this reason, the lamasery and what it stands for have been objects of suspicion and struggle on the part of a communist government determined to make good its territorial claims over Tibet. The consequences for religious life at Kumbum have been severe. There were more than 3,000 monks at the lamasery before the communist revolution, and barely 500 today.

Many monks were executed and others imprisoned.

The purge came in the late Fifties, around the time of the failed Tibetan revolt. Many monks were executed and others imprisoned, the lama said. The complex appears to have suffered less during the Cultural Revolution when Red Guards blew up hundreds of monasteries in Tibet, killing unknown numbers of monks and laymen.

Kumbum now resembles key religious sites all over the world: It is a sometimes uncomfortable mix of tourism and teaching, mystery and money-making, of lofty principles and petty bureaucracy.

Yet, while Hui Muslims seem to have monopolised the sale of Tibetan Buddhist souvenirs, and Chinese wander about apparently uninterested in the obscure customs of a people many of them regard as backward, there is no doubting the devotion of Tibetans themselves.

Striking in their mauve, brown and yellow robes, monks and lamas amble along the paths linking the temples, or parade in their magnificent yellow "coxcomb" hats to summon the faithful. There are ready smiles for visitors who are treated to flashes of brilliantly white, sometimes gold-capped teeth.

But there seems little to smile about when it comes to the future of Tibet and its way of life. China's treatment of a land and people it regards as its own - but which it had to invade to make good its claim - ranks among the great tragedies of the century.