A Padampa Portrait Painting: The Middle

Zhije Lineage Tree, photo courtesy of Sotheby's
(click on the photo for an enlargement [I hope] - 
click on the enlargement for a super-sized version -
The copyright for the image remains with Sotheby's)

My, isn't this an amazingly beautiful painting?  Just ignore the stuff I'm writing here and go back to look some more at that painting. Some of the figures are so alive, you imagine they might talk to you or step off the page. Even if it is only partly there, it is really remarkable for so many reasons. Even if you didn't know the central figure was Padampa (and I do know that it's Padampa as you will see) it would be fascinating.

Now that we've seen and said how beautiful it is, let's look into what can be known about this historically richly important painting. The first thing that I believe can be known without a doubt is that the central figure is Padampa. I would know this if only the central figure, nothing else, were visible in it. Equally, if only the surrounding figures were visible while the central figure was left blank, I could tell you who the person in the blank space ought to be, so much am I sure of this identification. But you may need to read further into this blog if you want to learn at least some of the sources of my conviction, not least among which is an early text that basically tells you what the Zhije lineage tree would look like if you were to visualize it. The text is very likely to date from somewhere close to the same time as the painting itself. But please don't do as I know some are inclined to do and assume that the painting must have proceeded out of the text. It could be that the painting is older. Try to keep an opened mind. We'll go where the evidence leads us.

First, some necessary disclaimers:

I don't have any connection to the art trade, let alone any art auctioning houses.  I wouldn't call myself a collector, or if I am, I never owned any art that cost me more than one hundred dollars, which I guess from some perspectives would label me as pathetic. I have nothing to gain or lose if anything I might say would have an effect on the future placement of this painting or the livelihood of its owners, although my best hope is that it will go to a public institution (like a museum) that will take care of it well. I find it a matter both for pride and alarm that Tibetan paintings have already a few years ago pushed through the million dollar ceiling. 


Well... This kind of neutrality is important. With no economic interests, I can speak freely but perhaps, too, you might feel a little more inclined to believe what I have to say, although it's hard to feel too sure of it. I won't even pretend to be neutral about Padampa. What would he think about all this high-level commerce going on around his person? If you need to ask this question, it's clear you have yet to be introduced.

I was surprised to see this painting on auction, although I wasn't surprised that it existed. I knew about it back in around 2004 or 2005, when I corresponded about it with A.H. It was A.H. (I will put your complete name here if you will permit me) who brought it to my attention for the first time and sent me some photographs. I very much wanted to study it and write about it, but the owner at the time, it appears, was not interested. He wanted to keep its existence a secret. I must admit, I was a little annoyed by this decision, especially since I was at the time writing up an article, meanwhile published, on the iconography of Padampa. 

Now compare the central figure in the painting with the figure on your left in this ink drawing dating to the mid-13th century:

Ink drawn miniature - Padampa ("Dam-pa") on your left, his student Kunga on your right -
from vol. 2 (kha), folio 15, the Zhijé Collection scribed in 1245 or so

When you compare the two Padampas illustrated here so far, you see a few remarkable things in common. First of all visualize the thrones away as irrelevant. Then look at the interesting and unusual ‘lobed’ hair on top of his head (more on this later) with what looks like several small braids splayed out over the shoulders.  Look a little closer and notice the skimpy beard in both portraits.


Wait, let me try and put a detail of the painted head up here for you so you won’t have to scroll back and forth so much:

The hand gestures (the mudrâs) are different, but then they are different in all the images in the Zhijé Collection (I’ve only put one example here; others may be seen in the Martin article listed below). Both are seen sitting in what might best be described as a sitting bag, otherwise they both are basically naked. I’m not an expert on this subject, but I imagine the style of Padampa’s loincloth in the painting resembles better the simpler style of underwear, with string or twisted cloth tied at the sides, used in South India (kaupina seems to be the word for it) than the somewhat more complicated langot[i] used in the north. I won’t embarrass myself by exposing more of my ignorance on this particular matter, although I would warmly welcome clarification from those more knowledgeable. If it is in fact an item of South Indian attire depicted here, there is something wonderful about knowing this. It lends a touch of South Indian authenticity to his portrayal.

I promised to return to the hair. Perhaps you are already aware that Padampa is normally portrayed in more recent Tibetan art with something closely resembling the standard “Buddha curls.”  In early art, as well as this text that must date to mid 13th century, we find something different:

“Imagine the precious holy Indian Dampa with a body of dark brown color with a reddish cast, his hair rising up like elm tree [leaves?], wearing a varicolored loincloth, his hands held in a cross-pointed (tips crossed?) gesture [capable] of pressing down all of phenomenal existence if he pressed down with them or raising it up if he raised them.”*

(*For the source, see the work by ’Jam-dbyangs-mgon-po listed below, p. 413. This passage was cited already in Martin’s 2006 article, pp. 118-119. The Tibetan text will be examined a little further on in this blog.)

Let’s think about what this passage says. Ignore for the time being the mudrâ, since the fact is the language of the description isn’t clear, and in early representations his gestures haven’t become fixed yet.  Then notice it says that his body was “of dark brown color with a reddish cast.” This rather exact description of skin tone seems to be followed out in the painting. If that idea leaves you plagued by doubts, notice the mention of the loincloth, not often seen in Padampa portraits (although I get your point, it doesn’t seem to be very ‘variegated’ in color as the text would have it).  Is it possible that this text played a role in the making of the painting? 


I’m not sure we can answer the question. Still, in the attempt we may learn something. Besides, if some large part of the information in the text corresponds with what is in the painting, it ought to be enough for us. I think the information that enters into the painting has the same general source as that that enters into the text, so one may be used to illuminate (or in some cases perhaps add to or correct) the other.

Well, what I’ve just described is a major project that may take more effort and time than I can give to it. I think we will have to bring a lot of texts into account to explain the painting in its entirety. Two cases in point are the identity of the two divine mandala arrays on either side of Padampa, but on his same mid-level part of the painting. Let's start with the one on his right (your left):

Detail of divine assemblage on the central figure’s right side

Although I haven’t yet located any text about her, neither among the Tanjur texts by Padampa nor in the Zhijé Collection, it appears we must identify the central figure as Rdo-rje-gtum-mo, with the four surrounding figures being the las-mkhan-ma. Basing ourselves on the Dharmaśrī text in the Gdams-ngag Mdzod, vol. 13, p. 251, they are:

1. In the southeastern quarter, lion-faced.
2. In the southwestern quarter, tiger-faced.
3. In the northwestern quarter, monkey-faced.
4. In the northeastern quarter, wolf-faced.

Given that east is usually the direction closest to the viewer, the orientation may need to be tipped 90° or so one way or another... Do you think the textual information fits the animal heads in the painting?

Divine assemblage on the central figure’s left side

On Padampa’s left side is a different divine assemblage, with a form of Vajravārāhī at the center. In this case we do have a Padampa text in the Tanjur. It’s this one: Rdo-rje-phag-mo’i sgrub-thabs — Toh. 2328, found in vol. ZHI, fol. 269, where she is described like this:

rnam par dag pa lha'i sku zhal gcig phyag gnyis pa gri gug dang thod pa dang kha ṭwāṃ gi 'dzin pa / sku mdog dmar ba la dur khrod chas kyis brgyan pa zhabs g.yas bskum pa / g.yon brkyang bas dus mtshan ma mnan pa / gar dgu'i nyams kyis bzhugs pa bsgom par bya'o //

To translate quickly: 

“Visualize a perfectly immaculate divine form of one face and two arms holding chopper and skullcup and khatvanga, her body red in color ornamented with the cemetery items, her right leg bent, the right extended pressing down Kālarātri (Dus-mtshan-ma), displaying all nine communicable dramatic emotions (rāsa).”

The main different aspect of this portrayal is that Vajravārāhī has a sow’s head alone.  Usually the sow’s head is off to the side of a human face. The single representation that exists for her among the ink drawings in the Zhijé Collection, doesn’t appear to show any sow’s face at all, but it isn’t all that clear. It is at least of interest because the loose scarf floats around her in a very similar way to the one in the painting.  The legs are reversed, you may notice.

Now that we’ve finished with the central register, we’ll talk about the figures both visible and invisible in the upper register, along with the group primarily made up of Tibetan followers of the Zhijé lineage down below Padampa, in an upcoming blog posting.  Until then...

- - -

Here is the description of “Lot 85” of the Stuart Carey Welch collection, Part II, at the Sotheby’s site. Try to get there soon in case the link expires (it has expired, and I apologize for that [June 2018]. Perhaps this link will take you to it.).

Although Stuart Carey Welch was born long before me, we were born in the same city. For an obituary look here. He specialized in Indian Mughal and Islamic art, and taught for 35 years at Harvard. I once had one of his books as the only assigned textbook in an Islamic art class. That's the main reason I remember his name. He was definitely one who felt that one could appreciate art and art history well enough without being encumbered by the language used in the culture that produced the art. Perhaps that helped to make his book more suitable for an undergraduate course, if I may be forgiven for trying my best to put this all in a better light.

Not everyone joined in the “chorus of praise” for Sotheby’s record-breaking sale (i.e., earnings) of the Islamic art in the Welch collection that took place in April. Here is what Souren Melikian had to say about it. Souren Melikian, by the way, is one of the most formidable scholars on the subject of early Iranian and Islamic connections with Buddhism and Buddhist art, and on the history of Iranian Buddhism in general. His criticism of the auction houses in recent years has placed them on the defensive, which is probably why they more than anyone need to hear what he has to say. I’m just passing on this information. I’m not eager to criticize auction houses or the people who bid in them, not today.  Today, if you don’t mind, I’ll feign neutrality and keep my opinions to myself.

§  §  §

More to read, as if you can’t find enough, and even more discussions of tediously minor issues that have to do with trees, hair and the like:

On the iconography of Padampa, see D. Martin, Padampa Sangye: A History of Representation of a South Indian Siddha in Tibet.  Contained in: Rob Linrothe, ed., Holy Madness: Portraits of Tantric Siddhas, Rubin Museum of Art (New York 2006), pp. 108-123. There is a brief but substantial iconographical study of Padampa (Pha Dam-pa Sangs-rgyas) contained in Lokesh Chandra, Transcendental Art of Tibet, International Academy of Indian Culture and Aditya Prakashan (New Delhi 1996), pp. 97-8, revised in Lokesh Chandra, Dictionary of Buddhist Iconography, International Academy of Indian Culture and Aditya Prakashan (New Delhi 2003) vol. 9, pp. 2619-20.


'Jam-dbyangs-mgon-po, Grub-chen Dam-pa Sangs-rgyas-nas Brgyud-pa'i Dam-chos Sdug-bsngal Zhi-byed-kyi Lam Lnga'i Khrid-yig Dri-med Snang-ba Grub-pa Mchog-gi Zhal-lung, contained in Gdams-ngag Mdzod: A Treasury of Precious Methods and Instructions of the Major and Minor Buddhist Traditions of Tibet, Brought Together and Structured into a Coherent System by 'Jam-mgon Kong-sprul, Lama Ngodrup and Sherab Drimey (Paro 1979-1981), vol. 13, pp. 409-438. About the author of this text, which is misattributed in the Table of Contents, look here and here. Following is the text of the passage translated above, although I also consulted a parallel in the same volume. This passage is on p. 413:  rje btsun dam pa rgya gar rin po che sku mdog smug la dmar ba'i mdangs chags pa / dbu skra bho lo ltar gzengs pa / sku la ras khra bo'i am gar ga gsol ba / snang srid thams cad mnan na non pa / btegs na theg pa / phyag rgya rtse bsnol du lag ge ba. This differs from, and deserves comparison with, the parallel in the same volume at p. 369 buried in a lengthy work by Smin-gling Lo-chen Dharmaśrī (1654-1717): rje btsun dam pa rgya gar rin po che sku mdog smug la dmar ba'i mdangs chags pa / dbu skra yo 'bog gi sdong po ltar gzengs pa / sku la ras khra bo'i ang rag gsol ba / snang srid thams cad mnan na non pa / btegs na theg pa / phyag rgya rtsa bsnol du bzhugs par bsam mo. I located in medical reference books the Tibetan word yo-'bog, identified as Ulmus pumila: Siberian elm. I thought it ought to mean the rather serrated lobes of the leaves, but here it clearly says that his hair rises up like the trunk (or just the whole tree) of the Siberian elm. I couldn't identify the bho-la found in the other text, although I suppose it could be Zhangzhung language for rabbit, or, as found in other T-B languages, a word for thumb (just grasping at straws here, friend).


There is, if truth be told, a small body of literature about hair - and the absence of hair - among Buddhists. But perhaps the most interesting for present contexts is Benjamin Bogin, The Dreadlocks Treatise: On Tantric Hairstyles in Tibetan Buddhism, History of Religions, vol. 48, no. 2 (November 2008), pp. 85-109 (references to further literature on hair may be found here).


Are you surprised that there is actually a blogger site devoted to traditional Indian underwear and loincloths in particular? When you get over your amazement, you can find it here. The Tibetan words for loincloth used in the two versions of that early description of Padampa are am-gar-ga (probable better reading: am-ga-rag) and ang-rag. I've never seen the first spelling, even in the corrected reading of it, while the second is seen occasionally, but not all that often. Tibetans in the past have been known to wear the loincloth, although it’s not the usual fashion. As suggested by one Bengali scholar whom I’ll mention in a moment, it seems to be limited to Tibetan yogi types and not everyday wear by ordinary people. I’ve been assured that traditional Tibetans wore something they call[ed] a smad-g.yog, which just means a lower [body] wrap, and as the name suggests it's just a piece of cloth wrapped like a very short skirt around the waist without — how shall we say it — any support mechanism. In his often but not always reliable (in my humble opinion) listing of Indic loan words in Tibetan, Vidhushekhara Bhattacharya, Loan Words in Tibetan, Archiv Orientalni, vol. 6 (1934), pp. 353-357, at p. 356, no. 74, says that an-'ga'-rag, another spelling I haven’t encountered, means “the trousers worn as an under-garment by Tantric priests in Tibet, cf. Hindi aṅgarkhā, Skt. aṅgarakṣā.” The Sanskrit word he gives means literally limb protection, and that might appear to suit the loincloth somehow, come to think of it, but my Monier-Williams dictionary gives a closely similar word as meaning limbs protector, which is to say coat of mail. An epigraphical dictionary says it means [the king's] bodyguard. Other sources translate it as coat or even turban. The Hindi word he gives is not in my Hindi dictionary. So, well, I don’t know if Bhattacharya is right on this or not, although the reading am-ga-rag would seem to help him, if this is the right reading and if it would in fact represent an earlier and not-yet-so-Tibetanized form of the presumably borrowed word. No plausible Tibetan etymology of the two syllables ang and rag rises up to suggest itself, so let’s bet more than even odds it really is a borrowing of some kind or another. Still, I haven’t succeeded in finding any source for the notion that Sanskrit aṅgarakṣā means underwear. I’ll keep looking.

-  -  -

Note:  I’ve timed the posting of this blog for the day after the painting is to be auctioned. If you think about my possible reasons for doing this, I don’t think you’ll be too far off.  


Happy Birthday, Larry!



PS (Dec. 1, 2014):  Thanks for Small Person for pointing out that the url stopped working.  I hope it will work now!

Future of Learning in the Himalayas

Patan Durbar, Nepal

“That which discloses to the wise and disguises from the foolish their lack of understanding.”

- Entry for ‘Education’ from Ambrose Bierce’s Devil’s Dictionary.

Tibetan intellectuals are passionate about promoting education. Practically every person in the Himalayan world that has managed to receive a higher level of education is guaranteed to be concerned with the educational possibilities of people back home. I’ve seen this to be true so many times both inside Tibet and in neighboring countries with Tibetan populations. Inside Tibet, especially, they are bound to support schools taught in Tibetan-language medium, or at least those offering classes at suitable levels of Tibetan literacy. Until a few years ago a large number of Tibetan parents, including Party cadres in Lhasa, were willing to risk sending their children over the Himalayas to Dharamsala, to the Tibetan Children's Village in particular, as their only hope for the children receiving an education with real Tibetan content. The alternative? Culturally alienated Sinified children. These days not only is it more and more strongly forbidden to send the children to Dharamsala, it has also become much more difficult and dangerous with the increasingly strict border controls. Now it is all the more vital that Tibetan medium education be promoted in Tibet. And moves by the PRC authorities in recent years have been going in very discouraging directions.

In Nepal, at large, education is a huge concern. I remember 20 years ago they used to say that the number of Nepalese  unable to read stood at 70%. Now I understand it’s more like 50%, which seems to me like a woefully inadequate improvement, especially given the requirement of reading for most reasonably good occupations available in the early 21st century. Still poor after all these years, this gradually developing democracy has been preoccupied for the last decade with a Maoist insurgency. Now they, the Maoists, have been brought into the government, and if for this reason only there would be hope of more positive developments. Still, the fighting against them took so much energy and resources away from much-needed infrastructural improvements that these days Nepal can only produce half as much electricity as it needs (explaining those daily hours of “load shedding”),* and public education is so abominable that nobody wants their children to waste their time with it. Part of the problem with education in Nepal is just that so many parents are too poor to allow their children to spend much if any time on it. Their earning power, although small, is more important. Child labor can still be seen everywhere these days, especially in the metalworking shops. Forbidding child labor won’t help much to get at the root of the complex of problems. Education would seem to come much closer.**

(*By way of contrast, nearby Bhutan has plenty of extra hydroelectric power, and makes much profit diverting the excess to the Indian grid. The dams and generators were, I believe, largely built with Indian financing.  **Don’t be too surprised if I say that education can also be a source of certain kinds problems. For example: It’s well known that successful rural education programs promote migration to urban areas leading to increased unemployment, housing problems...)

I’m still trying to remember ever once meeting a learned Ladakhi who didn’t have a hand in building or managing one or more schools. I haven’t been in Ladakh myself, although I’ve visited neighboring valleys just south of it. I haven’t been to Bhutan, either. Of course I’d love to go. Who wouldn’t?

So this is what I have in mind. I’ve found out about two schools, one in Nepal and one in Ladakh, both of them intent on instilling Buddhist values, both run by intelligent, idealistic and trustworthy people, and both much in need of help. Actually, the Ladakhi school, which I haven’t seen, appears to be in much sadder shape financially than the one I visited in Kathmandu.* Its classes are taught mainly in Ladakhi-Tibetan (there are classes in Hindi, Urdu and English), while the Kathmandu school, like very many private schools there, is taught in English medium. If you also feel the concern and see the need to act, I’d like to ask you to conspire with me, not only with the idea to help them out financially if possible, but also to visit the schools and try to find out more about their conditions and needs and then, of course, to spread the news to a few other people so that more can get done.

(*Both schools already have well established physical buildings and have been in existence for some decades by now.)

All you have to do is send a comment in the comment box below. I won’t publish your comment (I screen comments... they never go up automatically). But if you will send me an email contact, I will write back with the details of what I know about one or both schools and we will form an informal email group that will share information and ideas about how we can help these children in a more private way, without any fanfare and without a penny wasted on overhead or administration (I won’t be handling anyone’s money for them). I’d especially like to hear from you if you are planning to travel to Ladakh or Nepal in the near future. Helping is important, but it’s also important to do it in a smart way.

§  §  §

An open door at Oxford?

If you are interested in supporting an organization that builds new schools in the Himalayan region (meaning primarily eastern Tibet and Nepal), I’m particularly impressed by what Karuna-Shechen has been doing, especially their support for Bamboo Schools in Nepal (read this story). Of course there are other school support organizations at work.

I recommend this page at Cultural Survival website.

Catriona Bass has written up some solid research on the state[s] of education inside Tibet during the late 20th century. If you are seriously interested in the topic, try her book Education in Tibet: Policy and Practice since 1950, TIN and Zed Books (London 1998).

For some insight into the state of Nepalese educational institutions, both public and private, look here.

People sometimes succeed by chance,

yet no one would think of them as wise.

When the worm is finished with its meal,

if letters appear it's still no scribe.

ma dpyad pa las don grub pa //

byung yang mdzangs par su zhig brtsi //

srin bu dag gis zos pa'i rjes //

yi ger byung yang yig mkhan min //  



མ་དཔྱད་པ་ལས་དོན་གྲུབ་པ༎
བྱུང་ཡང་མཛངས་པར་སུ་ཞིག་བརྩི༎
སྲིན་བུ་དག་གིས་ཟོས་པའི་རྗེས༎
ཡི་གེར་བྱུང་ཡང་ཡིག་མཁན་མིན༎

- Sa-skya Legs-bshad, ch. 3, v. 27

Been Serving Leniently, Have You?

Fixing the Peacock Pedestal at Swayambhu Nath
('Phags-pa Shing-kun, Spring 2011)

I spent some time in Nepal at the IBA this Spring reading through a Sakya commentary on the famous 12th-century work, the Mind Training in Seven Topics (Blo-sbyong Don-bdun-ma) by Chekhawa (Mchad-kha-ba). Of course, being that old, the root text is full of those outdated ‘old vocabulary’ items that Tibetans call da-nying (brda’-rnying), which may at times make the reading a little difficult, even if it was quite simple language for people living then. But one line in particular has often been translated so badly it is hard to even begin...  “Do not serve the central object leniently.”

Here’s the line in Wylie:

gzhung bzang po ma bsten /




Now the same in real Tibetan letters:


གཞུང་བཟང་པོ་མ་བསྟེན།

The main sticking point here is the expression gzhung bzang-po, not found in many dictionaries.* You might want to understand the gzhung to mean a governing center, a capital city, a main textbook for a particular subject, or the like. But when you say that a person has a good gzhung you are referring to her or his long-term character in conjunction with behavior, I think something very like what we mean by integrity in English. In modern Tibetan gzhung bzang seems to be a near-equivalent to gzhung drang, which might mean an ‘honest core,’ which again suggests the English word integrity. Some more recent translators of the Seven Topics have opted for loyalty, which might also work. Others translate as consistency or sense of duty (I’ll have to look more into this and think about it some more; I’m not pretending to cover the whole range of possible translation choices). These other translations aren’t necessarily less right, let alone wrong. I’m not sure enough to pass judgment on them. But yes, choosing one over the other does make a difference in the meaning. 

(*Try the Dag yig gsar bsgrigs [reprinted at least eleven times since 1989], part 5 of the entry for gzhung on pp. 680-681, where gzhung is defined as mi'i rang gshis dang kun spyod kyi ming ste : mi gzhung bzang / khrel gzhung can / mi gzhung drang zhes pa lta bu.)

What I am sure of is that not serving the central object leniently is very, very misleading. To then go on and make a commentary on the English as if it made any sense at all, is wrong on an even deeper level. It simply compounds the error. But then for later translators to simply copy it, or pretend to improve on it by shifting the wording toward a meaning they prefer, is mind-bendingly deceptive for both the translator and the translation consumer. Both we the translators and they the consumers deserve better. 

To translate the commentary passage written by the famous Khampa scholar Ngagga (or Ngogga):

gzhung bzang po ma bsten / zhes pa ni / pha rol pos rang la gnod par byas pa 'khon du bzung nas 'khon 'dzin de las nam yang mi ldog pa / dper na 'jig rten pa'i mi gzhung bzang po can des dus tshod ji tsam song yang rang la ltos pa mi brjed pa dang 'dra bas 'khon 'dzin spangs la ma bsten pa / gnod pa'i lan du slar yang phan 'dogs pa'i bsam sbyor dang ldan par bya'o //

“When the opposing party has done something to injure you that resulted in your holding a grudge against them there is no way you will ever get out of the feuding that will result from it. To give an example, a worldly person who is regarded as one with integrity, no matter how much time has gone by, will never forget his obligations. Therefore give up feuding and don’t make use of it. Rather, in response to injury you must time and again react with good plans about how you can help the other person.”

I imagine that most persons who have sadly found themselves seriously under-exposed to the logic of Lojong won't understand the more subtle point of this commentary, but rather imagine they see a contradiction in it, ‘How can the person of integrity who repays good deeds be used as an example that applies to a person who holds a grudge?’

It’s saying that the person who has harmed you has done you a great favor that needs to be repaid if you are (in fact) a person of good character, and not just what this-world-lings regard as a person of good character. (If you didn’t follow the reasoning here, try reading the commentary again more slowly, or explore its context.)


Lojong is sustained, and even made to thrive, under negative circumstances (rkyen ngan). Its serious practitioners (not those who proudly proclaim themselves practitioners) are beholden to the people who contribute to their attempts to realize non-self, since the bad things done to them serve as expedients on the Path to Enlightenment (lam 'khyer).*

(*One response often heard from the incredulous this-world-ling who first hears about Lojong is, ‘Impossible! This is just inviting people to walk on you!’ While in a sense true, bear in mind that Lojong practitioners are not supposed to let other people know they are practicing it, so it isn't as if they are tempting fate and saying, ‘Go ahead. Come and get me. Give it your best shot!’  Also, they aren’t masochists who seek ego gratification from provoking their own suffering. Everyday life presents ample opportunities. I doubt the truth of this requires much reflection.)

Now when we look back at the root verse and read, perhaps in a new way, the line “Don't make use of a good character,” we are forced to rethink it.


It’s actually telling you not to hold grudges, isn’t it?

There is no contradiction. Still, your understanding heads in one direction, then the other, and back again...  Perhaps the theory that translation is impossible is attempting to prove itself true. Perhaps its very falsehood proves its truth?

Sun setting above Nagarjun Hill
(Glang-ru Lung-bstan-pa)

Here is one of the coolest and most fun Tibetan Buddhism websites ever. No joke! One student told me about it, but it was too difficult for me to access in Nepal. It allows you to instantly compare seven different translations of the Seven Point Mind Training. Go here and try it for yourself. If you want to go directly to this particular line, try pressing here once or twice. Once there, wave your mouse over the seven boxed letters next to the following words "Do not serve the central object leniently." By doing this you will quickly see seven different translations for the line flash in front of your eyes one right after the other. Now try it with some of the other lines and see how consistent (or not) the translations are with each other. One thing you might discover to your amazement is that often people seem to have worked on the English translations that have already been done in the past rather than approaching the Tibetan freshly. This is a shame. But I suppose we are all guilty of it in some degree since our ‘readings’ of the Tibetan texts may be consciously or unconsciously affected by our past readings of translations. I know it has happened to me.


Khenpo Appey (Mkhan-po A-pad Rin-po-che), Blo syong don bdun ma'i bka' khrid, a pamphlet published in Nepal in 45 pages, distributed free of charge, with the date given in the Tibetan Royal era year of 2137, which would correspond to 2010 CE.  On p. 25, you may read what he has to say about our line:

gzhung bzang po ma bsten / ces dper na mi gshis ka bzang po zhig yin na rang la phan btags pa de ga dus yin kyang mi brjed pa sems la nyar sdod kyi red / de bzhin du gnod pa byas pa de 'khon du bzung nas ga dus yang ma brjed par sems kyi nang du nyar sdod kyi red / de lta bu gzhung yun ring du ma bzung zhes pa'i don red //

Khenpo Ngagga (Mkhan-po Ngag-dga’ — the colophon names him as Mkhyen-rab-blo-ldan), Blo sbyong don bdun ma'i rtsa ba'i 'bru 'grel skal bzang rkang drug rol ba'i pad tshal, an unpublished pamphlet based on a computer printout (this might have appeared in a Manduwala 1985 publication that I haven’t seen yet). The author and the late Ven. Khenpo Appey were contemporaries, well known to each other, both being disciples of Ajam Rinpoche.

Chekhawa’s work is certainly to be counted in the handful of Tibetan texts that might be described as most translated, together with the Love Songs of the Sixth Dalai Lama. Practically every last Tibetan Buddhologist has tried their hand at it, although not quite every attempt resulted in a major Snow Lion or Wisdom publication. I think the interest could be explained in several ways. One is that it is a very popular teaching text employed by Tibetan Buddhist teachers wherever they might be and regardless of their tradition. Another is just the high level of psychological insight it displays, something you appreciate more and more each time you go back to it. How can a text so simply (in its times) and abruptly stated contain such sophisticated understandings of the ways the human mind works? By being so old it defies evolution and makes us consider the possibility that here, at least, intelligent design has been at work.

Note: I used this font converter page to make the unicode Tibetan script out of Wylie input. You can use it, too, especially if Wylie creates obstacles for your reading comprehension.




One alternative text that I located in the Blo sbyong brgya rtsa has the different reading gzhung bzang mi bsten, which I'm tempted to translate — ‘Not all that literally!’ you may object — as ‘Good character (or integrity) isn’t going to cut it.’




Of late Tibetan Buddhists have begun to catch the fever of Translation Studies, which has long been playing in various academic realms. This goes along with huge plans, recently evolving onto a grandiose scale, to translate the entirety of the Tibetan-language Kanjur and Tanjur collections into English, on which we’ll talk some other time, OK?

Love and Loveliness in Lalitpur

Guru Rinpoche

I very recently had the pleasure of visiting what has to be one of the most aesthetically awe-inspiring museums in all of South Asia. I should have gotten a copy of the museum catalog, but it was rather pricey and I didn’t have enough NRS in my wallet at the time. Of course you have to pay for entrance to the museum itself, as well as purchase a tourism admission ticket to the Patan Durbar where the museum is located, and then you really must sit in their very nice garden restaurant (I recommend the saag) and rest up after a few hours of going flat-footed and bleary-eyed in the museum...

Another good thing about this museum is that they allow photographs for noncommercial purposes like, for instance, this blog, where there are no commercial interests at all.

I don’t really have details to tell you about most of the artworks you will see here. Like I said, I didn’t purchase the museum catalog. The frontispiece shows what has to be one of the most pacific forms of Guru Rinpoche ever. Some know him as Padmasambhava. He looks positively serene and friendly for a change. Here’s a slightly different angle.

Another angle

The entrance to the museum

Erotic woodcarving (maithuna, "couple")

Another loving couple in wood

Notice that the man is getting a nice garland,* which means he’ll be getting something else that ought to be nice from this comely woman before too much time has elapsed. I’ll leave it to your imagination.  Did you notice where his right hand is located? 

*To employ the language of Leiden Prof. Jonathan Silk, he is getting ‘garlanded.’

Well, these erotic woodcarvings are next-to-nothing compared to the jaw-dropping scenes you can see among the temple struts of other temples in the Patan Durbar. They show every conceivable pose with every imaginable partner. So much so that it buggers the imagination. You heard me right. Tibetologist Tucci long ago made a picture book on the subject that libraries fortunate enough to have it keep under look and key for the eyes of librarians only.  Since I like to think of Tibeto-logic as a family-friendly blog, I’ll just give you one example that is preserved inside the museum itself, which is this one. Kids, if you need to know (which I sincerely doubt), this is how families are usually made, including most likely your own:

I'm not sure a caption is needed

A bizarre looking couple with only two knees
between the two of them

They look even odder sideways, don’t they?

The royal throne of the kings of Patan

As you probably know, kings no longer rule or even have a ceremonial role in Nepal (since 2008, around the time of the infamous shoe attack), and recently there have been moves to remove from circulation all the coins and currency notes that bear their images. (The royal images are mostly being replaced by images of high mountains, or maps of Nepal...) But here, inscribed on this golden royal throne, is one of the wildest things you can probably ever recall reading on a chair:

“May it be good. On Thursday, the eighth of the waxing moon of the lunar month Shravana, Nepal Era 787 (about August 8, 1666) His Majesty King Shrinivasa Malla was offered an alms bowl and a golden throne attached with Kadamba trees.  Anybody can hire this throne on payment of two rupees to the families of coppersmith and carpenter. Let it be auspicious.”

Well, I thought it was funny. It costs about 200 rupees - or was it more? - to get inside the museum, and it is strictly forbidden to sit on this particular chair. No, I didn’t try to test the patience of the museum guards. It was getting late. I needed to get back to the hard mattress in my unlit (not much electricity in Nepal these days) and cheap Thamel guesthouse before dark, and I still wanted to make a stop at the nearby so-called Golden Temple of Patan. On my way out, in the bookstore where I should have purchased the catalog, I happened to meet a famous Tibetological blogger. It’s not like you see them everywhere, really.  Well, definitely not all the time.

In the Patan Durbar

References:

Here you can get some nice views of the exterior and the interior of the Patan Museum. Go here to see some eye-popping items from the museum's collection, and don't forget to try out the links at the bottom of the page.

Jonathan Silk, Garlanding as Sexual Invitation: Indian Buddhist Evidence, Indo-Iranian Journal, vol. 50 (2007), pp. 5-10. Perhaps you can get a PDF of it for free download if you belong to a subscribing institution... Here is the opening line for a teaser: “In Ancient India, the act of garlanding may indicate a sexual invitation, especially if the offering is from a woman to a man...”

Here’s the Rati-lila book by Tucci, as listed in WorldCat, if you want to check and make sure if your library will let you check it out or not. You can read it in German, French and Italian (not to mention Croatian). I doubt you’ll be looking at the words all that much, I really do.

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Note on the names of the cities: Tibetans call Lalitpur (or Patan) by the name Ye-rang, which must connect somehow to the Newar name for the place, which is Yala. Kathmandu Tibetans know as Yam-bu, while Newars call it Yen. Some say Kho-bom is a name for Kathmandu, but I think there has been some confusion with Kho-bom/Kho-khom, which is definitely a Tibetan name for Bhaktapur (or Bhatgaon, the third historically royal city of the Nepal Valley). Newars know Bhaktapur as Khwopa.  Tibetans have Bal-yul as their name for Nepal. I'm not sure what the explanation for this ought to be, but I imagine that the Tibetan Bal was drawn from the pal in Nepal (?).