Showing posts with label Tibetan script. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tibetan script. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 21, 2026

The Oldest History of the Kadampa School?

Dromtönpa
©Israel Museum, photographed by Eli Posner

It is not from want of desire that I have reneged on my duty to post once a month as I too boldly promised twenty years ago. Lately I have been feeling the strain and am doing all I can to make my work space more “ergonomic,” I believe this has helped reduce the deep pain in my shoulder a little, so here we go. This is only a test.*

(*Today’s blog is offered in honor of Helmut Eimer, master of academic research on Atisha, always critical and always helpful to me with research questions, and for this I believe calling him a friend is fully justified. Thanks are owed to José Cabezón for useful information used here.)

If most peoples’ interests could only be made to align nicely with those of us who try our best to read Tibetan literature in the original language, many recent manuscript finds would be making headlines in the mainline news sites of the worldwide web. We tried to survey some of the most interesting ca. 1200 CE textual caches a few years ago. Limiting ourselves to the Matho cache alone, we can find more than enough amazing material to keep us busy and entertained right up until the grim reaper makes his move or until the turn of the coming century, whichever comes first.

That the pre-1200 Matho cache might contain the beginning page of a history of the Kadampa teachers of the Stages of the Path is news so exciting that enthusiasm swells my chest and tries to pop open my skull. After all, it is generally believed that no such history was ever written during the entire era of Kadampa flourishing (late 11th to early in the 15th centuries). The first Kadam histories were written in the 15th century when the Gelug School was on the rise. It is as if they were written in retrospect on behalf a monastic tradition that couldn't be bothered to write histories of itself.*

(*Of course much turns around the question of what constitutes a Tibetan historical genre, but I follow what has been said about this in the introduction to Tibetan Histories, its 2020 [2nd] edition available here.)

Yet so far as I know nobody on our planet has written about the fragment in question, v349. One likely reason it has been avoided so far is the script. Most Matho fragments are in early styles of cursive script, some more difficult than the others. The small percentage of non-Tibetan students who have mastered cursive script will still struggle with these specific ways of writing it. In fact, everyone will have problems here and there making out the readings, they often require double-checking and rethinking. 

This script situation helps justify providing the transcription—you will see it soon enough—that was made through the pairing of two pairs of eyes. One pair belongs to a talented young scholar from Tsang Arig by the name of Pentsok W. Rtsang, while the other belongs to myself. The idea is that four eyes can better read through the difficulties than two can. Even while we decided to preserve some of its peculiar spelling practices, we have striven to put forward a text that can be (relatively speaking) readily understood. [I have inserted now and then my square-bracketed ways of reading terms and names that may otherwise remain too opaque.] Since the photographs are instantly available on the internet (just tap here and find volume 349), you may consult it with ease in cases of doubt. We see no reason to go into piddling discussions about ambiguous readings, missing ligatures and what not.

Much of what is in this early source is unique to it, or in cases of parallel accounts appears to supply significantly different information. This is just the kind of tinder that kindles the fire of historical investigation. But hey, I didn't start the fire, and don't intend to do so now. I will just note that the story of the expulsion of a monk for having alcoholic beverages is quite different here. It usually happens in Bodhgaya, and not as you find here. The Five Questions presented to Atisha by the ruler of western Tibet is a matter of particular interest, and José Cabezón will soon publish an essay on that very topic that I haven't read but do look forward to. The fragment ends soon after the first meeting of Atisha with Dromtön (in 1044?), but it presumably would have continued with a few 12th-century teachers of the Stages of the Path. I will not give everything away and spoil its surprises, and in fact I decided not to give any Englished version today, so for now my work is done. 



Matho fragment v349 

[Recto of an isolated folio labelled "1" (scan image 1)]

Note on transcription: I sometimes insert in square brackets my own emended readings in cases when I believe it might be helpful. However, easily recognized and systemic "misspellings" are left as is. The paragraphing is my own. There is no title supplied (in early times titles were rare, and title pages practically nonexistent), although there is a statement about the subject to be covered, immediately after the homage statement, 'We bow to the Lamas.' As it promises, 'We shall relate a mere corner of the history of the Stages of the Path teachings that are held in common.' 

For the original transcription by Pentsok, look here assuming the link will take you there.

 

࿓ // ! // bla ma rnams la phyag 'tshal lo // 


thun mong lam gyi rim pa'i // lo rgyus zur tsam brjod par bya // 


de la slob dpon thogs myed kyis 'gon po byams pa la sgrubs pas // lo bcu gnyis nas zhal [m]thong nas byis pa'i rdzu 'phrul gyi stobs gyis dgas ldan [~dga' ldan] du phyin nas // 'gon po byams pa la lha'i drod skad cig byams pa'i chos lnga gsan mngon par rtogs pa rgyan gyi snyan rgyud kyi gdams ngag 'di yang mnyan nas // de nas mi yul du byon tsam na mi lo bcu gnyis song ngo // 


slob dpon thogs myed kyis // slob dpon dbyig gnyen la bshad // 


des slob dpon glog ros stan pa la / des 'phags pa grol ba'i sde [Ārya Vimuktisena] de la / des so so rnam grol sde [Pudgala Vimuktisena] la / des mchog gi sde [Prasena] la / des [']dul ba'i sde [Vinītasena] la / des rnams par snang mdzad bzang po [Vairocanabhadra] la / des gseng ge bzang po [Haribhadra] la / des rin cen bzang po [~rin chen bzang po, Ratnabhadra] la / des bzang po'i mdo la / des gser gling pa [Suvarṇadvīpin] la bshad / de yan cod [~yan chod] sa la gnas pa 'phags pa'i gang zag yin [/] des jo bo rje la bshad / jo bo sbyor lam pa yin gsung[s] / 

Note: I couldn't identify Glog-ros-stan-pa, but José Cabezón suggested it would likely be Blo-gros-brtan-pa (Sthiramati), and this appears to be the correct solution. Of interest here is its statement that, while all the members of the lineage leading up to Jowo Jé were saints with direct vision of the truth, the Jowo himself was a person belonging to the prior and preliminary Stage of Application.


jos 'bi kra ma la shi lar phal rtsen pa'i sde bar [~phal chen pa'i sde par] rab tu byung nas yod pa la / jo bo la pan byi ta (paˆ∂ita) mtshan gsum par ming thogs skad / rab tu byung nas nyes byas phra zhing phra bas kyang ma gos pas gnas [b]rtan 'dul ba 'dzin pa bya bar ming thogs / phyi rig pa dang nang rig pa dang gso ba rig pa dang bzo rig dang / rig pa'i gnas lnga la [m]khas pas pan byi ta chen por yang ming thogs so // gsang sngags kyi rgyud sde bzhi shes yi dam lha'i zhal [m]thong pas rnal 'byor pa chen por yang ming thogs so // 


gnas de na jo bo'i bla ma rta dbyangs chung ngun bya ba gcig yod pas / khong la gangs sngags [~gsang sngags] kyi rdzas cig la chang dgos nas chang gcig khyer nas yong bas / btsun pa kun gyis tshor nas / dge 'dun gros byas pas rta dbyangs chung ngun skrod par byas nas 'gan de chol pa [g]sungs [~srungs? ~rungs?] pas / bla ma na re ra kri ta 'gan de sung ba ci yin gsung [/] 


jo bos drang por bshad pa khong na re [/] bla mas chang kher [~khyer] nas song zer nas de skrod pa'i 'gan de sungs pa [~rungs pa?] yin byas pas / bla ma na re 'o ra kri ta nga la dge 'dun gyis chad pa'i las byar mi rung [/] dge 'dun thugs tsham [~tshal?] na nga rgya sgo la 'gror mi rung bas / lcag ri [~lcags ri] la skras tshugs gcig gsung nas skras [r]tsugs [~gtsug] nas gshegs so // 


jo bos kyang sting nas 'brengs nas phyin / bla mas chu bo 'gang ga la 'ding pa bting nas de'i khar bzhugs nas spyi bo nas rta skad rtser re re bzhud do // 


jo bos grub thob tu [m]khyen nas chu la [b]rgal nas bla ma'i zhal nas 'o ra kri ta de nas tshur ma 'ong gsung ngo // 


jo bos bla ma la zhus pa bla ma lags ngan bu la 'gro sa ni ngan song gsum las med na ci tsug dgyi zhus pas / bla ma'i zhal nas khyod khyod rang gyis [~gi] yul mtha' 'khob du spyugs la sems can gyi don gyis gsung ngo // 


jo bos / log nas thang khob [~mtha' 'khob] bod yul du 'gro ba la bod la phan thogs sam mi thogs / jo mo sgron ma la gsol pa btab pas / jo mo sgron ma'i zhal nas khyod kyis thogs gsung ngo // 


da bod yul du 'gro dgos rno nas yod pa la mnga' ris nas lha bla ma byang chung 'od bya bas / lo tsa ba nag tsho tshul khrims rgyal ba dang / rgya rtsen seng [~brtson seng?] [g]nyis la [g]ser mang po [b]skur nas / khyed [g]nyis kyis pan byi ta [m]khas pa gcig spyan drong la shog gsung bas // khong [g]nyis kyis gsan nas rgya gar du phyin nas da lta pan byi ta su che dris pas / jo bo che zer nas jo bo la khong [g]nyis kyis gser mang po phul nas bod yul du gshegs par zhu ba phul lo gnang ngo [//] jo bos dpe ca [~dpe cha] yang cha cas [~cha chas] su byas nas rgya rtson seng [~rgya brtson seng] sngun la btang bas lam bar du gshi' 'o [~shi'o] // 


°


Verso of an isolated folio labelled "1" (scan image 2)

nag tsho tshul khrims rgyal ba dang jo bo gnyis kyis 'ongs nas me pa la'i yul gyi mang dang gi gnas [b]rtan 'on ba la spyod pa [b]sdus pa'i sgron ma bshad do // 


de nas tho li[ng] du phyin nas bla ma byang chub 'od dang phrad pa dang / lha bla ma byang chub 'od kyis jo bo la dri ba lnga dris pa ni [/] jo bo lags / nged bod la la na re / theg pa che chung nya [~gnyis? ~gsum?] dang po nas yod zer la / la la na re / de ma nges [/] theg pa chung ngu la yang [~mang?] chen po'i blo skye zer / de gang bden pa lags zhus pas [/] 


jo bo'i zhal nas 'o bod kyi pan bi tas chos bsams nas 'dug gyis ngas de la lan gcig phyi [~phyin?] nas bya'is gsung zhing des 'gre yang dri ba de nged bod la la na re / bsgom dgos la / la la na re / sgom mi dgos rtogs pas chog zer [/] de gang bden zhus / 


mang [~yang] nged bod la la na re / thabs shes rab zung du 'brel dgos zer / la la na re / mi dgos ma [~ya?] res chog zer de gang bden / 


bo de sa ta'i bsdom pa'i rten du so sor thar pa'i sdom pa dgos zer la mi dgos zer [/] de gang bden / 


yang nged bod la tshangs par spyod gsang ba shes rab kyi dbang skur gnang zer / la la na re / ma gnang zer [/] de gang bden / de'i lan du byang chung lam gyi sgrol ma [~sgron ma] gsungs so // 

 

de yang dang po theg pa gcig pa'i lan ni / chung ngu 'bring dang mchog 'gyur ba'i skyes bu gsum du shes par bya zhes gsungs so // 


sgom dgos pa'i lan ni / de ltar de nyid goms byas nas / rims kyi drod sogs thob 'gyurd te / rab dga' la sogs thob gyur nas / sangs rgyas byang chung yun mi ring zhes gsungs so // 


thabs shes rab zung du 'brel dgos pa'i lan ni / thabs dang bral ba'i shes rab dang / shes rab bral ba'i thabs dag kyang / gang tshe chi ba [~'chi ba, mchi ba?] zhes gsungs pa / des na nyi ba [~gnyis ga] byang mi [~chi? ~ci?] bya zhes gsungs so // 


bo de sa ta'i sdom pa'i rten du so sor thard pa'i sdom pa dgos pa'i lan ni / so so thard pa ris bdun gyi thog tu sdom pa dang ldan la / bo de sa ta'i sdom pa'i skal ba yod kyis gzhan du myin zhes gsungs so // 


tshangs par spyod pa la gsang ba shes rab kyi dbang gnang pa'i lan ni / gsang ba shes rab dbang skur ni tshangs par spyod par blang mi blang [~bya?] zhes gsungs so // 


dus de tsam na dge bshes ston pa khams na yo ga stod 'grel gsung gyin yod pa la / khams pa'i tshong pa kun na re / stod mnga' ris na jo bo ti pang ka ra bya ba'i pan byi ta chen po gcig byon nas 'dug go zer / dge bshes ston pa dad pa dung skyes nas dpe cha kun mi la byin nas byang lam nas mar byin no // 


de'i dus su jo bo'i zhal nas nga'i ku su li pa gla ba [~zla ba] gsum nas yong gnyis nas yong gcig nas yong tha ma sang yang yong gsung ngo // 


phyis de 'ongs nas phrad ma thag tu gcig la gcig zings kyis 'jus [~'dzus?] so // 


dge bshes ston pas jo bo dang phrad nas ma grongs yan chad du rtsi mar gyi mar me la bzhugs su gcug pa myin pa mun pa la bzhugs su ma gcug go / 


de nas dge bshes ston pas dbus su [g]shegs par zhu phul nas gnang nas mar byon no // mar byon pa'i lam ka'i gnas 'gon thams cad la sngun la bang chen [b]tang nas / sang khyed kyi gnas su pan byi ta chen po gcig 'ong bas khyed sna len [~sne len?] byed dgos byas so // gnas 'gon thams cad kyis sna len byas so // de'i dus su zhabs thog byas tsad la yon tan sna re ma byung pa med gsung ngo // 


dge bshes ston pa dang jo bo gnyis lam bar du nyal tsa na bar du yol bas bcad nas nyal ba la 'or gcig jo bo'i zhal nas ku su li pa gsung nas 'bod pa la / ci dgyi zhus pas nga la da lta rgya gar na slob ma gcig dril bu sil zhing gsol ba 'debs kyi 'dug gsung ngo / des jo bo la mngon par shes pa gsum yod par shes pa yin gsung ngo / 

(Note: The three superknowledges Atisha is credited with are famously found in the Thirty Verses of Praise by Dromtön, verses 17-19; English in Chattopadhyaya's book, p. 374.)


de nas myang stod du yon ston chos kyi dbang phyug la chos bshad pas / 

(The passage below the final line appears to define the three clairvoyances mentioned directly above it, even in the absence of a connecting line: 

gzhan gyi sems dang / lha'i rna ba dang / rdzu 'phrul yul dang.)

[continuation missing]



Bibliographical notes

On the Four Caches, look here. 

For the Matho (མ་སྤྲོ་) cache in Ladakh (ལ་དྭགས་):


There is quite a lot of literature on historical works about the Kadampas in German, English and Japanese by such scholars as Helmut Eimer, Ulrike Roesler, and Maho Iuchi, among others. There is even a very large new volume about Kadampa history in Tibetan language. All of these things would have been typed into a long bibliographical list if only I had the energy.

An interesting matter for thought is this: Today the one and only standard account of the lives of the teachers who transmited the teachings on the Stages of the Path is this one —

Tshe-mchog-gling Yongs-’dzin Ye-shes-rgyal-mtshan (1713-1793), Byang-chub Lam-gyi Rim-pa’i Bla-ma Brgyud-pa’i Rnam-par Thar-pa Rgyal-bstan Mdzes-pa’i Rgyan Mchog Phul-byung Nor-bu’i Phreng-ba (1787). 

This monumental work in two volumes is known to have replaced at least one earlier and currently unavailable work on the subject written in the previous century or two. It may be that our Matho fragment represents the original behind them all. For more details on the genre, consult with Tibetan Histories (nos. 295, 462, 539, 1215 & 1218).

It is interesting to consider that a search of BDRC only pulled up one rather close match to the account of the Five Questions, and that is in the perhaps 13th-century Kagyu history by Rdo-rje-mdzes-'od, Bka’-brgyud-kyi Rnam-thar Chen-mo Rin-po-che’i Gter-mdzod Dgos-’dod ’Byung-gnas, “a collection of lives of the successive masters in the transmission lineage of the ’Bri-gung Bka’-brgyud-pa tradition in the Nepal Tibet borderlands,” D. Tsondu Senghe (Bir 1985), in 526 pp. at p, 270 & ff. (this publication said to be “reproduced from a rare manuscript from Limi Dzing Pegyeling”). There is no way to be sure just yet, but is it possible this early Kagyu writer had use of the text the Matho fragment belonged to? We can still ask the question even if we don't at the moment have the ability to answer it.



°


The frontispiece 

is a detail of the central figure of a thangka in the permanent collection of The Israel Museum, Jerusalem, no. B68.0239. The name label (not seen here) reads: ’brom rje dge bsnyen chos ’phel la na [mo], or, འབྲོམ་རྗེ་དགེ་བསྙེན་ཆོས་འཕེལ་ལ་ན་མོ།  This indicates that he was a Buddhist layman with the given name Chömpel. This is not his usual name, but a scriptural passage in the Karuṇāpuṇḍarīka Sūtra that contains the name Layman Chömpel is believed to prophesy his future existence. While very early texts often call Dromtön by the epithet Geshé Tönpa (Dge-bshes Ston-pa), his usual given name is Gyelwai Jungné (Rgyal-ba'i-'byung-gnas). 


A note on founderhood

It is more or less the norm to regard the first Tibetan member in an Indic lineage to be the one who founded that lineage. It seems unfair when Indians are not regarded as founders even when they were residing in Tibet. But I am not sure if identifying someone as a founder is such an interesting issue. After all, founders of these lineages had no idea they were founding anything. They were just teaching Buddhist Dharma. Dromtön was not the only disciple of Atisha, but he stood out because of his large role in founding Reting Monastery in 1056. It was only by the year 1075 or so Tibetans became conscious that there was such a school as the Kadam that had a founder (see the English of the Blue Annals, p. 269). Padampa, when in Tingri during the last two decades of the 11th century, was well aware of the Kadam as something that existed in Central Tibet (this confirms the statement in the Blue Annals). He had critical words for them, but more on that another time. Of interest is a relevant passage from the Golden Rosary of Lives of Narthang that basically says all the monastics and laypeople who came to take refuge at Nyetang [while Atisha still lived] were called Refuge Takers (Skyabs-'gro-ba), and only later on came to be known as Kadampa (Bka'-gdams-pa).

སྤྱིར་བན་སྐྱ་ཐམས་ཅད་སྐྱབས་འགྲོ་ལ་གཉེ་ཐང་དུ་སྐྱབས་འགྲོ་བ་ཞེས་གྲགས་བཀའ་གདམས་པར་ཕྱི་ནས་གྲགས་པ་ཡིན་གསུང་། 


A note on some names of Atisha

On another matter, here I have used "Atisha" as the name by which he is best known to an international audience. There has been a decades-long discussion about how Atisha should be properly spelled and interpreted, initiated by Helmut Eimer who concluded "Atiśa" (with no length mark on the "i") is correct. After long years of hesitation, the international scholarly community began to follow his lead in leaving off the length mark. Recently there has been a move that I basically agree with (even while I make no demands) to start spelling his name in the form it likely was originally, which is something like Adhesha (some early Tibetan texts spell it A-dhe-sha or the like). I have been keeping some notes about this in Tibskrit. I will just copy it here, with the intent to provoke further thinking, not to settle the issue:

Kano Kazuo* has a discussion of what might possibly be the more original form of his name, Adhīśa, actually attested in Tibetan script form as A-dhe-sha, or [just possibly] A-rhe-sha). Jo-bo A-dhe-sha is attested in NTSP,** section NGA, fol. 76r.6 (and it's used in an Indian episode to refer to Atiśa). I later noticed more occurrences in the Snar thang gser phreng (digitally typed version) at fol. 132v: ston pas a dhe sha khu ston gyis mi gtong bas thabs legs kyis bgyi 'tshal (other instances on fol. 135r, 147v, 149r, 156v). But I have wondered if this is possibly not meant as a proper name at all, but just the Sanskrit ādeśa, like upadeśa a word for deeply spiritual instructions. On the other hand Adhīśa, 'Supreme Lord,' is still today a possible boy's name in India that often appears in the form of Adheesh. I was also thinking that Adhīśa could be the very thing that was calqued in the Tibetan form Jo-bo Rje. Well, yes, that would make the combination "Jo-bo Rje A-ti-sha" oddly redundant, wouldn't it?

(*Kano Kazuo, "The Transmission of Sanskrit Manuscripts from India to Tibet: The Case of a Manuscript Collection in the Possession of Atiśa Dīpaṃkaraśrījñāna (980-1054)," contained in: Carmen Meinert, ed., Transfer of Buddhism Across Central Asian Networks (7th to 13th Centuries), Brill (Leiden 2016), pp. 82-117, at p. 83. **Mchims Nam-mkha'-grags (1210-1285), Snar thang gser 'phreng [a descriptive rather than an actual title], a manuscript supplied at TBRC no. W2CZ7888.)

Sunday, April 30, 2023

Want to OCR Your Tibetan-script PDFs?

Mayday! Mayday! No idea what I’m doing here.

Not a techie, this is meant to help people like myself who are not techies themselves, who are rather more like humans in humanities who want to make the most out of their computer’s innate or potential ability to search through Tibetan-script texts.


If you have a Google account already, it ought to be easy. Go to your account and then choose "Google Drive."  Just upload (click on the "+ New" button) your PDF. Once it is up there, you need to "right click" (search in Google if you have a Mac to find out "How to right click on a Mac"). Right clicking opens up a small menu from which you have to "Open with Google Doc." That does it!  Let us know how it works for you.


If you are in the mood to experiment some more, pay special attention to the message from Zach, and the links he supplies, at this Google discussion page called “Tesseract for Tibetan.”


If you don’t know what Tesseract is, well, you can Google it! That’s what I did.


OpenPecha also has this very useful page:

https://medium.com/@OpenPecha/how-to-get-google-cloud-vision-to-ocr-tibetan-again-e810a1d402ce


Notice, too, that Tibetan translation has appeared in some of those translation applications. The one I've noticed and tested is the BING:

https://www.bing.com/translator/

Just go there and see what happens. You may be surprised for better or for worse. Still, it’s worth a try.


If you have suggestions you think other humans can use, just drop it in the comment box. We’ll appreciate it. Artificial intelligences need not apply.  You could say I am not a robot, or I am not a rabbit, although I am both and neither, or rather neither both nor neither...

In case you encounter a CAPTCHA* on your way to posting your comment you’ll know what to tell it.

(*CAPTCHA, or a “Completely Automated Public Turing Test to Tell Computers and Humans Apart.” I Googled it.)

•

One more word of advice: If you want to test out the OCRing abilities of Google Drive or whatever, make sure you start with a PDF made with a machine-readable Tibetan font. Do not try to use a scan of a woodblock print,* and by all means avoid cursive texts of all kinds.**

I’m just saying this because I’d like your experiment to be a pleasant and productive one. Otherwise you run the danger that even the Word of the Buddha could be reduced to what is, in our human colloquial, called “garbage.”

(*Save that particular experiment for later. **Unless, of course, they themselves were made with computer script, which is an unlikely possibility.)


———

btw

Soon all my blogposts will be A.I. generated. Since their “process” often results in cogent yet stupid statements, they require peer reviewers, so there will still be work for us humans, no worries! Why can’t they peer review themselves, you may ask? Because each one is the total peer of the other, which makes it impossible for them to judge one of their kind against another, or that’s how I understand it. Wow, I hadn’t thought of it this way before, but maybe that is an advantage they hold over us. For them equality is not just lip service.


Postscripts (October 2, 2023):

I just noticed this article from over a decade ago that ventures to solve the problems in machine recognition of Tibetan woodblock printed script.

I did try posting a blog using A.I., and you can check the results in the entry entitled The Land of Snows, along with The Seven Seals of Tibet: A Joycean Journey. You be the judge.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Take the Cursive Test


To enlarge the picture, just click on it
What you see in our frontispiece this morning is a finely scribed sample of Tibetan book cursive. Not to dive head-first or too quickly into technicalities, Tibetans call this ‘headless’ or umé (dbu-med) script.* It’s a fragment taken out of its context. In fact, I am borrowing it — for educational and non-commercial purposes only, mind you — from eBay or another such place on the web where it was put up for sale.**

(*It may be more accurate to call this semi-cursive script, since true cursive would mean the 'fast letter' handwriting used in letters and in some official documents, which is something else altogether. **Now I don’t remember where it was. Anyway, not everyone feels completely fine with the fact that there is so much internet trade in Tibetan manuscripts these days. But I’m not going into controversies about cultural property rights today. Let’s save it for another time and place.)


It is just one end of one side of one long ‘leaf’ from a number of ‘leaves’ made from the bark of the Daphne shrub, stacked and wrapped together into what Tibetans call pecha (dpe-cha). The text, I can tell you, is both tantric and ritual. It might even be considered by some as secret, but as a ritual text it doesn’t really explain anything — it even gives the mantras in truncated form without spelling them out — so I’m not concerned about breaking any samaya. As a fragment, it is especially challenging to dissolve the abbreviated forms it contains, so the task is a hard one for me, not just for you. I’ll offer some initial help to unraveling what the text says later on, but I won’t do everything for you, and before you know it I’ll be asking you for your help with the parts that don’t yet make sense to me. If I gave all the answers up front it wouldn’t be a test then, would it?


If you have never started to study Tibetan language you may want to skip over today’s blog. You would be well advised. Unless you’re looking for insight into reasons Tibetan is just so hard you would never want to even contemplate learning it. That is, if you’re trying to rationalize your reluctance to take the dive. That’s why I wrote to someone named Gary [altering the name to protect his innocence] in one of those online discussion forums (that’s right, not fora, please!) almost exactly two years ago. Some irresponsible Tibetanist had warned him about abbreviated cursive manuscripts, and he found the whole idea discouraging in the extreme. What you see here below is basically the same two-year-old letter, although I’ve revised some of the information it contained, expanding the explanations a little this way and that here and there. I doubt if our friend Gary will mind.


§ § §





Dear Gary,



I don’t think it’s exactly proper to call what happens in Bon (and other) Tibetan manuscripts “shorthand,” and let me tell you why.


Generally, while shorthand just might incorporate some part of a relevant letter, it usually transforms common words or common clusters of letters (or their sounds) into a new symbol. In the Tibetan case you could say that all the letters that are visible are completely recognizable and in their ‘original’ forms (or at least leave vestiges as in case of the tsa, tsha & dza / ཙ་ཚ་ཛ་ letters where only the tiny flag [Tibetan texts call this the tsa-lag, or tsha-lag, or tsa-lhag; I'm not sure which is more correct] that all three have in common remains, and leaving aside a few other exceptions... there are not so many... we'll have a look at them later).


Therefore I think it is more correct to call what happens simply ‘abbreviation.’ You generally take a two-syllable term and condense it into one. But Tibetan has what may seem like a further complication, since they often take 4-syllable stock phrases and collapse them into two syllables (preserving the 1st and 3rd syllables only). So in effect what you can get sometimes is an abbreviation of an abbreviation. And it’s also true that longer strings of three, four or still more syllables can be collapsed into one.*


(*The work by Bacot gives some examples of long passages getting collapsing into a single syllable, but in my experience with manuscripts these are quite rare, and therefore not worth being overly concerned about except in theory.)


Shorthand is designed to make it possible to write as fast as people speak. Tibetan abbreviation practice is designed to save paper and ink. This is an essential difference.

To try to give an English example that might help to make clear how Tibetan abbreviations are working, “Braitt is 1 moiear.” You take the initial consonant[s] of the first syllable and jam them together with the final consonant[s] of the second syllable, and allow the vowel marks to pile up in the middle.*

(*The ‘i’s, ‘e’s, and ‘o’s above the consonant, or above the highest of several stacked consonants, with the ‘u’s hanging down below the lowest consonant.)


And it’s true that there are sometimes — thankfully fairly rare — characters that are idiosyncratic and therefore impossible to understand. I’ve been keeping a xerox of one of these characters for years now, and even though it’s been shown to some real experts, no one has figured it out yet.

There is at least one aspect of Tibetan abbreviation practice that does resemble true shorthand. It’s when numerals (especially 4, but also 9 and even 10) are used not only to replace the written-out words for the numbers (which is perfectly sensible, especially since we do it in English, too), but are used to replace the same cluster of letters when used in an otherwise totally unrelated word. For the most common example, the number 4 is written out in Tibetan as bzhi, so you can write “4n” instead of the word bzhin, which means ‘like, as.’

Another shorthand aspect is when prescript or postscript letters of the Tibetan writing system are replaced by subscript letters. This one is a little harder to make intelligible to those who haven’t already mastered that system. One of the most radical examples of it you can see in the abbreviated phrase “sku sya thya,” which is shorthand for sku gsung thugs (Body, Speech and Mind [of Buddha]). Here the subscript ‘y’ is standing for the otherwise absent ‘g’, in the first case a prescript ‘g’, and in the second a postscript. To give another less common example, mgo (‘head’) can be written as gho, replacing the ‘m’ prescript letter with the ‘h’ subscript letter (but manuscripts using this convention are rare and these are largely Bon manuscripts). Performing these kinds of substitutions economizes on horizontal space, allowing the scribe to cram more into the page. (The lines that they must follow are usually scored for them in red ahead of time.)

Another common practice is to take the postscript cluster -gs, as for example in the word thugs, and spelling it in the cursive form of the reversed Tibetan ‘t’ or
ཊ
that is also used to represent the Sanskrit - Devanagari letter ‘ṭ’ or
ट .
This one is even used in headed script on occasion, especially when space is running out at the end of a line.

I hope that fear of Tibetan abbreviation doesn’t prevent you from pursuing your dream of learning Tibetan. Be warned that you may even need to increase your daily caffeine dosage (I recommend espressos and cappuccinos, or Tibetan tea if you prefer, but you know, you have to drink a lot more of that last one). Still, it’s entirely doable. Oh yes, right, I ought to tell you, what I said before, “Braitt is 1 moiear,” abbreviates ‘Brad Pitt is a movie star.’



For endless opportunities for entertainment in the meantime, take a long glance back at Bacot’s ancient French article in Journal Asiatique. Anyone anywhere could be amazed at the lengths to which Tibetan scribes occasionally went. They are rare (and generally they are just standing in for long prayers or other passages that the reader was expected to hold in memory anyway), but there are some manuscripts for example that stack up vowel signs like the ‘o’s and ‘i’s a half mile high. Those are truly awesome, and apparently defy human comprehension. But like I said, they are as rare as blue yaks in the Changtang, and perhaps even less likely to be encountered.

See this link:
this being the June 29, 2006 blog entry of P. Sz's Thor-bu, and follow its link to the Bacot article, which is on a slow server, so do be patient with it. If that link isn't working for you, try this.



I’d say that Bon cursive manuscripts are typically written quite beautifully, and when and if the words are not entirely spelled out, what you find is 95-percent abbreviation and only 5-percent shorthand. Be assured that many non-Tibetan-speakers do learn to read Tibetan very well without ever giving a cursive, let alone abbreviated, manuscript anything more than a moment’s glance. But really, if you first learn to read Tibetan well, it’s not all that difficult to make the move into cursive. And if you don’t learn it, there will be so much that you will never be able to read.



Yours,
Dan


§ § §




Well, are you ready to take the test? I’ll limit my example to the first line and let you try your luck with the rest.

Since this is the front side of the folio (did you notice the page number out there by itself on your left?), we naturally start with a ‘head letter’ symbol. It’s usually called the ‘head[ing] letter’ or yiggo (yig mgo), although I’ve seen it called in Bon sources dangtog (dang-thog I take to be a shortened form combining the two Tibetan words dang-po and thog-ma, which both mean ‘first’). It usually looks like this:
༄༅
Now there is a widely-spaced double shad punctuation followed by the words gzung[s] dang, which present no special problems. But I could imagine some people who already know the letters in their cursive forms stumbling over the next bit. The first thing you see there is the numeral ‘2’. Move on to the next thing you see to the right of the ‘2’, which is, starting from the top and moving to the bottom, made up of [1] the vowel ‘e’, [2] the consonant ‘s’, and [3] the vowel ‘u’.



Move on to the next place to your right: This is a letter ‘d’ with an odd hook shape above it. The odd hook-like thing is the anusvāra,* which Tibetans call the lekor (klad-skor — it seems this last means ‘brain circle’ for some reason not apparent to my brain at the moment). You often see it in its non-cursive form, which differs in the cursive, looking more like a circle (a dot in Devanagari), in transcriptions of Sanskrit in Tibetan letters. However, in cursive it looks like the tiny circle was made in two parts that at some point stopped meeting each other and became ‘disjointed’ (the later example on line 2 better illustrates this, since it hasn’t run together into one fluid line like we see here). In Tibetan cursive the anusvāra is used in ways Indians never dreamed about. Tibetans use it as much as possible in cursive abbreviations, almost every time a letter ‘m’ is in postscript position in the syllable. But not only that, some scribes like to use it when the ‘m’ is in prescript position.

(*In Sanskrit, the anusvāra lends a nasal twang to the vowel that comes before it, although it is likely [especially in final position] to sound like ‘ng,’ which is anyway the sound Tibetans tend to give to it when it occurs in Sanskrit mantras... )


Still with me? Next you see a mistake. Oh, well. They happen. No reason to be too concerned about it. No need to dial 911. But where a single letter would have done the trick, here we see two. Both letters look like the cursive form of ‘r’. Let’s try to transcribe the letters that are actually there so far (I put dots here, for a change, to represent the syllable-dividing punctuation called the tsheg — the tsheg looks like a dot in headed script, a short slightly curved line in the headless):












gzung.dang.2suṃedrr.


Make any sense yet?











{I may have cheated slightly in my ordering of vowels, out of my wish to help you just a little.}


Now for the final remaining syllable of line 1, which would be easier if a small part of the anusvāra hadn’t gotten covered up by the pages stacked over it in the photo. It just says bsaṃ, ‘think, imagine,’ and is followed by the shad punctuation.



So, here’s my way of understanding the first line, correcting what I believe needs correcting:


gzungs dang gnyis-su med-par bsam.


I interpret it, assuming it is part of a visualization practice (there is more evidence that this is the case in the other lines):


‘Imagine [the deity] as non-dual with [his] dhāraṇī.’


The rest is up to you. Please do let me and Tibeto-logic’s other remaining reader[s] know, using the comments, how well you are getting on with it. But please! If you are already a master of the game, don’t answer too fast and spoil the fun for the rest of us.


§ § §




Eager to hone your cursive skills?



For those tyros — don’t you love that nobbish English word? — who just today for the first time resolved to familiarize themselves with Tibetan cursive script, I’d most recommend the 2nd volume of David L. Snellgrove’s 1967 book, Four Lamas of Dolpo, though it may be difficult to find. I should warn you that the 2nd volume is not part of the recent paperback reprint by Himalayan Bookseller in Kathmandu.



If you have a big university research library within driving distance, it’s likely you will be able to locate and photocopy (for your own personal use only) this brief & useful article: Ramon Prats, On “Contracted Words” and a List of Them Collected from a Bon-po Work, East and West [Rome], vol. 41 (1991), pp. 231-238.


Advanced students who have been reading Tibetan with a decent degree of fluency for several years now will greatly benefit from Nor-brang O-rgyan, “Bod-kyi skung-yig-gi rnam-gzhag chung-ngu,” contained in: Bod rig-pa’i ched-rtsom gces-bsdus, ed. by Ngag-dbang, Bod ljongs mi dmangs dpe skrun khang (Lhasa 1987), pp. 413-483,* where the rules and rationales behind manuscript abbreviations are explained quite well. The truth is, you don’t really need to learn the rules ahead of time. Equipped with a few basic principles you can simply plunge into the texts. Another good method is to find a cursive manuscript of a work that also exists in a clear woodblock print, using the latter to check your reading of the former. Employing these tried-&-true sink-or-swim methods, it is guaranteed that before you know it abbreviations will start dissolving by themselves with neither apparent method nor special effort.

(*If you have too much trouble finding this volume, I once made a note to myself indicating that this same article is also located in Bod-ljongs Zhib-'jug, the first issue for the year 1987.)

I'd love to see this one. From the title it's supposed to be specifically about abbreviations used in Bon manuscripts. I located it in the Bya-ra database. Bstan-'dzin-rnam-rgyal, Bon-gyi Dpe-rnying-las Bsdus-pa'i Skung-yig Grub-cha'i Skor-la Dpyad-pa, Bod-ljongs Sgyu-rtsal Zhib-'jug. issue no. 1 for the year 1996, pp. 118-128. It's item no. 127 in the Bon bibliography of the last Tibeto-logic blog.


The classic work on cursive script and abbreviations is the one by Jacques Bacot mentioned before: L’écriture cursive tibétaine, Journal Asiatique (January-February 1912), pp. 5-78. You do not necessarily need to first study French to make use of it. Here’s a sample of one of the ‘extreme’ abbreviations, the very last in Bacot’s list (you will notice it is not done in cursive, but in the so-o-o much better-known ‘headed’ [dbu-can] script).







Last question: Some people know Tibetan abbreviations by the name bsdus-yig, which means ‘compounded [gathered together or combined] letters,’ while others know them as skung-yig, or ‘concealed / invisible letters.’* Some people call them by the letters that are visible in them, while others call them by the letters that have disappeared from view inside them. Either way, they’re talking about the same phenomenon. Is there a mystery concealed here that we’re not quite glimpsing yet? I’m curious. Just asking. Please tell us if you see it.

(*I believe the most correct spelling is bskungs-yig, since the first syllable ought to be in the past form, although hardly anyone seems to pay much attention to this fine point. Nor-brang’s article says that some people also call them sbas-yig, which also means 'concealed letters,' but he insists that these names, along with bsdus-yig all mean exactly the same thing.)


§ § §



How and why did headless writing develop? Probably because scribes were in a big hurry and wanted to get their work out of the way before supper so they could have more time to drink chang with their pals. That’s more-or-less what you find in the famous theory of Gendun Chömpel. You can find a source for it, in the late K. Dhondup’s translation, in this brief article: Amdo Gendun Chophel, The Evolution of U’med from U’chen Script, Tibet Journal, vol. 8, no. 1 (Spring 1983), pp. 56-57.


§ § §


And in closing — honestly, this is the last thing — here are two of the more mysterious and obscure ligatures in use:



ṆA — This backward version of the Tibetan letter ‘na’ occasionally occurs in manuscripts as a way of abbreviating the syllable med, meaning ‘is no’... ‘is not’... ‘doesn’t have.’ I have no reasonable explanation for this, do you? Of course, the ordinary unreversed (or undotted) Sanskrit syllable na is one of the standard ways to express negation in Sanskrit (it became in Hindi naheen).



NYA — Of course this Tibetan word does mean ‘fish,’ but in cursive texts, a syllable very much resembling the nya stands as a shorthand way of writing bdag, a way of referring to one’s humble ‘self.’ This is certainly to be explained (I alone make this argument as far as I know, which would make me eccentric) by a famous mantra used in very many sādhana texts, which has the Sanskrit word aham (meaning ‘I’ as the first-person singular pronoun in nominative case) spelled with the avagraha as ’ham.











I'm not sure why, but the unicode developers decided to call the Tibetan version of this sign the paluta. It ought to look like this: ྅. But in practice, in cursive, it usually looks just like the letter nya.


These two mystery syllables, when used together, nicely add up to the Buddha’s idea of non-self or, to give the proper Sanskrit, anātman. We could write it like this in headed letters (it would look a little different if it were headless):











ཉ༌ཎ༌

I’ve actually seen it done. I consider it one of the Seven Wonders of the Tibetan manuscript world.





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A fascinating book I've started reading:
Trent Pomplun's Jesuit on the Roof of the World: Ippolito Desideri's Mission to Tibet.
Googlebooks tells more about it, but tell me, how can I be reading a book published in 2010 in 2009?  A faster reader than I am, by the name of Jeff Mirus, has already read and reviewed it 3 days ago at Catholic Culture — here.  Desideri's birthday is coming up in just 3 more days, on December 20 in 1684, in Pistoia. Another sign that the fullness of time for Desideriology has officially arrived, we find a set of several papers on Desideri in the journal called Buddhist-Christian Studies, the issue for 2009 
(but check out earlier issues for still more).


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Another book I'm hoping to read soon:
Kurtis R. Schaeffer's The Culture of the Book in Tibet.
Indologica blog tells more about it.


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On my night stand:
In the Forest of Faded Wisdom: 
104 Poems by Gendun Chopel, a Bilingual Edition, 
edited and translated by Donald S. Lopez Jr.
See the cover at Googlebooks.


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A Paean of Pride or Encomium (take your pick) to Chas







{double-click on the doggerel to try and locate the video evidence}
 
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