Hong Kong Standard, March 27, 1997

RESPLENDENT in a large boat-shaped yellow hat, the head lama leads almost 1,000 monks in prayer. Sitting in dense rows, swathed in brightly coloured robes, his charges fill the grand hall with their chanted response, rocking their bodies to and fro.

The stench of yak butter _ the quintessential Tibetan odour _ permeates the complex, from the flickering candles on every ledge to the tea slurped before the murmuring monks.

The lamasery at Labrang, one of the six great monasteries of the Gelugpa or Yellow Hat sect of Tibetan Buddhism, is the largest Tibetan monastery outside Tibet proper.

Hidden in the southwest corner of China's Gansu province, the monastery lies in the great swathe of land known as Greater Tibet. Beyond the concrete Chinese town of Xiahe, hills open onto grassland, high red walls conceal temples and colleges, and monks dodge golden, rooftop dagobas to sound mournful horns across the valley.

Founded in 1709, Labrang enjoyed power and wealth through taxes, donations and jurisdiction over 100 smaller monasteries.

But China's turbulent 20th century exacted a heavy toll. Muslim-Tibetan massacres shook the area before the communist victory introduced the political upheavals of Maoism. Distance from Beijing was no protection, as Labrang fell victim to Cultural Revolution campaigns against old tradition and culture _ buildings were destroyed, monks forced to leave and even marry.

Small businessman Dojie, 68, recalls the monastery's heyday. ``Before, there were more than 3,800 monks and 18 living Buddhas,'' he said. While many Tibetans harbour resent at the damage done to Labrang, Dojie believes blame should be shared by both the communist government and the locals.

``After all, it was the individuals from the local area who actually carried out the destruction,'' he said.

Late patriarch Deng Xiaoping's reforms of the 1980s brought more relaxed policies and greater freedom to Labrang. Some of the temples have been rebuilt and many old monks have returned, attracting hundreds of young novices from Tibetan families keen to educate their sons in traditional fashion.

Herdsmen make pilgrimages to its holy shrines and walk around its sacred walls, hands clutching ornate mobile prayer wheels that fire prayers off to heaven with each spin. The most devout prostrate themselves on the dusty ground every step of the way.

Rosy cheeked Dejicuomo, 18, comes from the grasslands of neighbouring Qinghai province. She beams with happiness on arrival with her family after a hard week's journey by bus and often on foot.

Dressed in her finest clothes _ large fur hat, padded silk gown and fancy turquoise earrings _ she explains it is every Tibetan's dream to make a pilgrimage every year whenever possible.

Since 1981, the government has allocated US$12,000 (HK$93,600) a year for maintenance and reconstruction, including the Great Chanting Hall where the monks gather for morning prayer. Behind such reconciliatory gestures there is little doubt the authorities keep Labrang under a watchful eye.

Photos of exiled spiritual leader the Dalai Lama are nowhere to be seen _ a result of the ongoing crackdown against the man denounced as a traitor and splittist.

For now, Labrang remains a peaceful place of worship, and most positively un-Chinese businessman Dojie for one is confident his people's culture will survive.

``It will not disappear, it is unique to us. Things are free now and policies are not so strict,'' he said.