Friday, July 31, 2015

Homicide, Forced Suicide, Vengeance and the Ghost

Andrea Mantegna's St. Sebastian, c. 1455-60



"It will have blood: they say blood will have blood.   
Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.
... ... ... I am in blood 
stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, 
returning were as tedious as go o'er."
Macbeth, Act 3, Scene 4.

I’ve been reading an interesting new master’s thesis. Wait a minute, does that sound like a normal sentence to you?  Well, anyway, it surely is an interesting work that put my mind to thinking after I finished shuddering. Think of it as Macbeth and St. Sebastian with more than a touch of Silence of the Lambs. If you are OK with that, you might be ready to read on.

The thesis, by Sara Conrad, is about the Sakya Bagmo (ས་སྐྱ་འབག་མོ་), often called “witches” in English —  the weird sisters of Macbeth? — since anyway some of the things they have done were quite ghoulish to say the least, and time after time they needed to be brought under control by the Sakya hierarchs. These women are actual flesh-and-blood women possessed by a kind of spirit (for this reason they are sometimes referred to as söndré - གསོན་འདྲེ་ or living ghosts). The real meaning of the name Bagmo is mask (with the mo just a regular feminine ending).

When reading this account of the origins of the Sakya Bagmo, I was struck by the recurrence of a theme (or complex if you prefer) in Tibetan culture, one that has its various manifestations in most or all of the different sects, not just in the Sakya. Without getting too structuralistic about it, let’s pare it down to the basic formula.

A, B and C are good friends of X.  At some point X gets in the way of his three (or four or more) friends’ plans for the future. A new plan is made to get him out of the way, a plot in which they all participate in some way. X is killed or, which is practically the same thing, cornered into an impossible position from which the only escape is suicide. The unjustly killed person cries out for revenge from the grave. The guilty parties, and their wider organization, engage in acts of propitiation, meant to turn X into a protector rather than an antagonist. Time and again, X requires reminding not to slip back into vengeance mode, which anyway X threatens to do with some regularity, just as the guilt of A, B, and C keeps flaring up from time to time, generation after generation. Is it the guilt or is it the ghost that gets propitiated? The rituals can’t tell and perhaps don’t even know the difference.

Of course this skeletal scenario was constructed by myself just this moment, and one thing you need to remember is that not every single facet of it has to be repeated in every instance of the story. The larger structural parallels are what I want to point out, not the architectural details.

Here is an account of how the Sakya Bagmo originated somewhere around the 16th century. The Rabjampa Sönam Özer (རབ་འབྱམས་པ་བསོད་ནམས་འོད་ཟེར་) was captured by a group of three political figures (sde-pa) named Lhakhangpa, Lhasa Dzongpa, and Kyetrangpa (their motives not clarified). They tied him to a pillar next to the long stairway of the Great Temple of Sakya. Then they shot arrows at his chest and killed him.

“According to the oral historical tradition, when the Rabjampa was killed he said these prayers with great intention: ‘As I pass from this lifetime, may I be born as the empowered one of one third of the world.’  But due to the fact that his consciousness was vengeful and angry, he said, ‘as I pass from this lifetime, may I be born as devourer of one third of the world.’ ” (Conrad, p. 11)

By the power of his negative intentions (however justified by the unjustness of his death) he was born as the first Sakya Bagmo. Her name was Namkha Drölma (ནམ་མཁའ་སྒྲོལ་མ་). It fell upon a Sakya leader by the name of Drachen Tutob Wangchug to try and subdue her, but try as he did methods both peaceful and wrathful they were to no avail, so he took the next best step and married her, or as the text says, took her as a [f.] Seal (ཕྱག་རྒྱ་མ་). In any case, they were in cohabitation when she died. Then Drachen peeled off her skin, tanned it and made from it a mask. This he used in a ritual to coerce the spirit to become a protector of the Sakya school. This mask was kept in a special box and taken out once a year for ritual purposes.

Well, I did warn you about the parallels with Silence of the Lambs. Still... if you are still with me... What else does this story in general remind me of?  For one thing the account of Shugden. If you want to read more about it, the quickest and best way is to send you over to another blog by another blogger. You will find the link below under “Dreyfus,” so I’m not going to go into this much better known story right now.

Less well known is the account of a once-vengeful ghost turned protector spirit of the Bön school. Some will surely be surprised to learn that Bönpos turned a high incarnation of the Karma Kagyü school into a protector of their own school. How did that happen?

The Tibetan-language sources are widely scattered and are not especially clear. The one summary I know of is by Samten Karmay, who says that when the 10th Red Hat Karmapa died unexpectedly in Nepal during the Tibeto-Nepalese wars in 1792, the Tibetan government forbade recognition of his reincarnation.* Later on his ghost manifested as a spirit. Then the abbot of Menri Monastery named Sherab Gonggyel (1784-1835) made him into a protector of Bon religion, giving the spirit protector a name that is identical to the name of the First Red Hat Karmapa: Dragpa Gyaltsen (1283-1349). Although it is true that the Bön protector figure is the most recent one to develop, it is still a curiousity that his name Dragpa Gyaltsen is often prefaced with a set of epithets that mean Fierce, Forceful, and Great King. The second of these three, Forceful, translates Shugden (Shugs-ldan).*
(*More about the Tenth Red Hat Karmapa here.   **I located another source that adds a fourth epithet: Wealth God [Nor-lha].  YTKC, p. 932: drag po shugs ldan rgyal chen nor lha grags pa seng ge'i mchod bstod /  YTKC is a very lengthy catalog of Bon scriptures. Look here.)
Baumer (p. 170) says that the 10th Red Hat Karmapa’s death was what could be called a forced suicide: “[He] is supposed, for political reasons, to have incited the Nepalese Gurkhas to undertake their military campaign of 1788-1791 against Tibet. [He], having failed, committed suicide, but was unable to release his soul from the earthly realm of existence and became a wandering evil spirit. The abbot of the Bön monastery of Menri, however, recognized that this tulku was originally the son of the demon king Khyapa and the daughter of Shenrab. He tamed him and forced him to become a protective deity of Bön.”

If there is a single historical figure behind all these guilt-tripping unjustified death cults, it would have to be this one: Dranka Pelgi Yönten (བྲན་ཀ་དཔལ་གྱི་ཡོན་ཏན་), the first signatory of the Tibetan-Chinese peace treaty of 820-821 CE.


Dranka, a royal minister, was falsely accused of having an illicit affair with the royal consort Ngangtsulma (ངང་ཚུལ་མ་). This is likely to sound familiar if you’ve ever heard the story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife.  But his rivalry with one of his fellow ministers started already in their childhood days, according to a remarkable and lengthy story we don’t have time for at the moment. The false accusation has a deeper background, so it seems it cannot be so simply reduced to a religiously motivated argument between the pro- and anti-Buddhist forces. Perhaps that, too.


The Deyu history says that when the pregnant queen Ngangtsulma heard the news of the minister Dranka's murder she became physically ill, slashed open her own stomach with an obsidian knife and said, “If you want to know if the minister and I did or did not have an affair, have a look at this!” Everyone could see that inside her stomach was a child with a full set of conch-like teeth as well as eyebrows of turquoise color. These they knew to be unequivocal marks that the child was of royal blood. The king himself confessed his mistake and as part of his penance erected a sacred icon-volume of the Perfection of Wisdom scripture.* The ghost of Dranka went on to be credited with everything terrible that happened in the post-imperial period, including the civilian worker uprisings (ཁེང་ལོག), and the looting of the royal tombs. To follow Dranka’s curse, the end of the imperial line itself may be credited to him: “May the azure sky turn bluer, the tawny earth turn to red.  May the lords and civilians revolt and the royal line be cut off.”** 
(*This volume was called the Red Abridgement**Deyu history, p. 361.)
It may be that Dranka's death set the precedent for the others. I’ll just put that forward as a hypothesis that might gain or lose strength with further investigation and reflection. The Dranka story may itself have precedents. Anyway, all of these stories regardless of their chronological coordinates can be traced back to the same unhealthy psycho-social complex.

I have to say that today’s blog doesn’t exactly portray Tibetan Buddhism in the best of lights or its finest of moments, much like our contemporary Shugden controversies. To judge from what I’ve seen on the internet, they seem to bring out the worst in people. If you are thinking that way you aren’t alone. I know a number of modern-day Tibetan Buddhists will agree: It would be just as well if these vicious cycles of guilt, vengefulness and propitiation could find resolution in a new way. 
My recommendation? (Not that anyone asked me...)

Confess, apologize and try to make amends for the incidents of cruel and unusual injustice that underly them, and admit that these cultural complexes are from beginning to end about political power and sectarian allegiance, not religion. I have no doubt Buddhism will fare better without these particular practices that keep raising up the ghosts of guilt. As we all know, guilt  is, along with martyrdom, one of the specialties of the three main monotheistic religions, and as far as I’m concerned they can keep their corner on the market. Buddhists ought to be aspiring to attain Enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings without getting sidetracked.




§  §  §

References

Christoph Baumer, Tibet's Ancient Religion Bön, Orchid Press (Bangkok 2002).

Sara Marie Conrad, Oral Accounts of the Sa-skya 'bag-mo: Past and Present Voices of the Terrifying Witches of Sa-skya,  master’s thesis, Department of Central Eurasian Studies, Indiana University (Bloomington, June 2012). Look here and here.

Brandon Dotson, “At the Behest of the Mountain: Gods, Clans and Political Topography in Post-Imperial Tibet,” contained in: Cristina Sherrer-Schaub, ed., Old Tibetan Studies, Brill (Leiden 2012), pp. 159-204. This paper is much recommended for its close reading of the classic versions of the Dranka story.

Georges Dreyfus, “The Shuk-den Affair: History and Nature of a Quarrel,” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, vol. 21, no. 2 (1998), pp. 227-270.  This page links to the more academic publications on the Shugden issues, with Dreyfus’ article at the top of the list, as it must be. I prefer not to supply links to all those other Shugden-connected sites, since they are so numerous and you can find them with ease. If I wanted to link to anything so dreadfully uninspiring I’d sooner link to Xinhua editorials, to tell the truth. Here is a recent statement on the Dalai Lama’s own webpage on the issues raised by the protesters that seem to pop up everywhere He goes these days. 
Elena de Rossi Filibeck, La malizia delle donne e l'innocenza maschile: il tema della moglie di Potifarre in Tibet, Rivista degli Studi Orientali, vol. 80, nos. 1-4 (2007), pp. 41-49. This is the best and most recent writing on the Potiphar’s wife type of story in Tibet.
Samten Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle [vol. 1], Mandala Book Point (Kathmandu 1998). 

Mountain Phoenix, “The Spirit that I Called: Dorje Shugden and the Unresolved Political History of the Gelugpas” (September 15 2014). For being so well spoken, and for its even-headed and independently-arrived-at assessment of the situation, I place this essay in a class by itself.  For a related but earlier (October 4, 2008) essay by the same author, look here.


Roberto Vitali, “Sa-skya and the mNga'-ris skor gsum Legacy: The Case of Rin-chen-bzang-po's Flying Mask,” Lungta, vol. 14 (Spring 2001), pp. 5-44.  This is in a special issue of Lungta (a publication of Amnye Machen Institute, McLeod Ganj) entitled Aspects of Tibetan History, guest edited by Roberto Vitali.




Afterthoughts

Dranka we ought to emphasize was a very important political figure during the first two decades of the 9th century, and his name appears carved in stone more than once in old Tibetan inscriptions. His historical existence isn’t likely to be doubted by anyone.

Conrad names the one who subdued the Sakya Bagmo as Sgra-chen Mthu-stobs-dbang-phyug (སྒྲ་ཆེན་མཐུ་སྟོབས་དབང་ཕྱུག), born in the 10th rab-byung cycle, the Water Dragon Year (1592 CE). Since he was the eldest brother of the much more famous A-myes-zhabs (ཨ་མྱེས་ཞབས་,1597-1659 or 1660), his identity is not in much doubt.  But the TBRC spells his name in the form 'Jam-dbyangs-mthu-stobs-dbang-phyug, འཇམ་དབྱངས་མཐུ་སྟོབས་དབང་ཕྱུག, giving him the dates 1588-1637. The specifier Sgra-chen (སྒྲ་ཆེན་) would suggest that he was a great grammarian, however another source known to me calls him Sgar-chen (སྒར་ཆེན་), connecting him to a ‘great encampment.’* Neither of these two epithets/specifiers is used in the brief entry in this biographical dictionary: Ko-zhul Grags-pa-'byung-gnas and Rgyal-ba-blo-bzang-mkhas-grub, Gangs-can Mkhas-grub Rim-byon Ming-mdzod, Kan-su'u Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Lanzhou 1992), pp. 638-639, and nothing is said about the Sakya Bagmo. It does say he was born in 1588, and here his name takes the longer form འཇམ་དབྱངས་མཐུ་སྟོབས་དབང་ཕྱུག་གྲགས་པ་རྒྱལ་མཚན.

(*This other source is Khetsun Sangpo's Biographical Dictionary of Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism, vol. 3, p. 790; I just double-checked it. It very certainly refers to the same person, since A-myes-zhabs is mentioned immediately after him.)
— — —
“Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.”
I imagine Shakespeare meant for us to find a mantic element in this mysterious phrase of his. The speech of tree and stone is found in Homer’s Odyssey, and in Plato's Phaedrus, and even long before these Greeks in an Ugaritic text. For the evidence, look at this essay fresh off the press: Alexander S.W. Forte, “Speech from Tree and Rock: Recovery of a Bronze Age Metaphor,” American Journal of Philology, vol. 136, no. 1 (Spring 2015), pp. 1-35.* We are supposed to imagine some kind of ghostly imprecation, as if the blood were crying out from the ground, as if stones were ominously moving (crashing rocks = crashing thunder), or trees prophesying future vengeance. To quote pp. 30-31 on the phrase speech from tree and/or rock:
“In the Iliad, the phrase has connotations of persuasion in a context of courtship; in the Odyssey, it is generative and prophetic; and in the Theogony, it occurs in a transparently prophetic context within a larger work concerned with the creation of the universe. 
“Each Greek phrase is likely an idiomatic reflex of a phrase which is well-preserved and artfully represented in the Ugaritic text, in which lightning and thunder represent divine speech as a prophetic utterance and are representative of the mingling of heaven and earth.”
I know that Tibetan translations of two of Shakespeare's plays — Romeo and Juliette and Hamlet — have been available for over a decade now. I've been on the lookout for a translation of Macbeth, since someone once told me there was one, but so far no good luck with my luck. I just thought it would be fun to supply a Tibetan version of the quote at the front of the blog. For an entertaining thing about translating Shakespeare into Tibetan, go to Adam Pearcey's website, “More Shakespeare in Tibetan.” Tibetanists should pay good attention to the alternative verse translations in the comments section to that page!
(*I should add to this a quite significant discussion in Ann Jeffers, Magic and Divination in Ancient Palestine and Syria, E.J. Brill (Leiden 1996), pp. 181-185. She supplies this translation of the Ugaritic words of Baal:  “For I have a word which I want to speak to you/ a message which I want to communicate to you, / a word of trees and a whisper of stone.”)
A Word of Trees and a Whisper of Stone. That really says it.


༓   ༓   ༓


Postscript:  The following comment was sent to me by email from Sara Conrad, the author of the master’s thesis that got me started on this topic.  This is what she had to say about her difficulties researching the topic of the Sakya Bagmo (October 2, 2015):


“I had a lot of problems collecting interviews on this topic. No women would talk to me about the Bag mo, even though I interviewed a high ranking female member of the Sakya pa - she would not go on record. Since you brought up Silence of the Lambs, I will bring up Poltergeist - where they were afraid of talking about it because they were afraid it would come true or something would happen. I also felt (and this was said to me as well) that people did not want to talk about violence in Buddhism. The only interviewee really excited to talk about this topic was the Nyingma pa Rinpoche.”

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Lexical Euphoria: Good News on Dictionaries



A lot is happening of late in Tibetan lexicography. It can be hard to keep your head above water, but there is much good news for dictionary lovers. On the one hand we have the electronic dictionaries that can even be downloaded as apps for your smart phone, like what is now the standard of its kind: the Monlam Dictionary.  I suppose the most popular reference these days among students would be the Tibetan-to-English Translation Tool at The Tibetan and Himalayan Library (look here). There is no "Google translate" automated translation program for Tibetan yet. In the mean time this is the closest thing there is.*
(*If you or your children are just beginning to learn Tibetan letters, you may want to try the brand new “Tibetan Kid” or a similar app. I understand there is now an android app for THL’s translation tool, but I can’t tell you any more about that right now. If you want to install Monlam Dictionary with its Bodyig fonts on your Mac, see this video.)

Most young translators of Tibetan texts keep folders full of scanned dictionaries on their laptops. And they collect them like young people once used to collect baseball cards and phone tokens, swapping them with other collectors they happen to meet. This is just a fact I’ve often observed. If you can’t remember the times when Jäschke and Das were basically all there was, you can be sure you can count yourself among the young translators. Me? I don’t use smart phones, and I remember like it was just yesterday how we used to bitch and moan about Jäschke and Das and dream of a better time to come, so you know what that makes me.

Today I’m going to type in some minimally helpful words about print dictionaries.  You know what I mean, the old fashioned kinds that haven’t as yet had their content splashed up all over the internet (as far as I know).

I remember how we used to talk about “the three-volume dictionary,” but that name got rapidly outdated by being reprinted first in two volumes and finally in just one.  For a long time now its content has been made available to the world in digital form, and practically everyone I know of is using it that way. The print book just sits there unused, although if you are so fortunate as to have the particular version (of the first part of the dictionary only) in English form, it can come in very handy.*
(*Zhang Yisun (1893-1983), et al., Bod rgya tshig mdzod chen mo, Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Beijing 1985), reprinted several times.  The English version got off to a good start with An Encyclopaedic Tibetan-English Dictionary (Bod dbyin tshig mdzod chen mo), The Nationalities Publishing House in association with The School of Oriental and African Studies (Beijing & London 2001), in 1384 pages, covering the first 8 letters of the Tibetan alphabet, ending with the word bsnyol-ba.  The project directors were Tadeusz Skorupski and Dondrub Dorje, while the translators were Gyurme Dorje and Tudeng Nima. For a somewhat critical review by Stephen Hodge, who worked on the project in its earlier stages, look here.)

Now, as if meant to confuse us, there is a new three-volume dictionary that is not (yet) so well known. It is a dictionary of literary Tibetan. The details are as follows:
Bod yig tshig gter rgya mtsho, compiled by a committee and edited by Thub-bstan-phun-tshogs (b. 1955), Si-khron Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Chengdu 2012), in 3 vols., page nos. continuous, in 4013 pages. 
You can see what a hefty set it is in this photo:


I do recommend this other three-volume dictionary, and my main reason is that so many of its entries are original ones, not simply copied — as so often happens — from previous dictionaries. It may be difficult to locate it without making a special effort, and these days the mailing cost alone may be only slightly less than prohibitive. Still, I think it will prove its worth enough times you will be happy with the decision to get it. 

A few points to observe: It bears traces it was created in Eastern Tibet. The system of alphabetization is not of the standard kind.* It includes a lot of proper names, medical terms and the like.** 
(*Superscripts come before subscripts, if you can believe that! Then combinations including both superscripts and subscripts... I guess you get the picture if you are meant to.)  (**I'm sorry, but I don’t think I’ll get into the new medical dictionaries that are coming out, although I suppose I might get around to that someday. For now I’ll just say that there are some good ones.)

Teams of Tibetologists in Munich have been working for many decades on a Tibetan-German dictionary project, illustrated in our frontispiece. The title is Wörterbuch der tibetischen Schriftsprache. The good news is that it’s easy to use and full of examples of usage. No simple lexicon, it is indeed a citation dictionary, with bibliographical references to the sources used. It includes a good selection of place and personal names as well. 

So far, only good. The somewhat less good news is that not all the fascicles have come out yet, although they seem to be appearing with some regularity. I count myself fortunate to have fascicles 1 through 26 (I count a total of 1678 pages), covering the first eight letters of the Tibetan alphabet, and quite a bit of the ninth letter  ཏ་  ending with the word lto-stong, meaning hungry.  

Those years you spent trying to learn German will pay off here, while you will regret those other years you were forgetting what you learned. Some will be heartened by the idea that this is supposed to become a Tibetan-English dictionary at some point in the future, although I’m not sure if my information on that point is up to date or not. 

The history of the making of this dictionary is told in the introduction to the first volume. It started in the 1950’s and has continued ever since. When you see how many fine Tibetanists contributed to it during a half century of labor, and when you see what care has gone into its production, you know it is going to be at the top of everyone’s dictionary list when it will at long last reach completion. And when it finally is all there, my calculations indicate it ought to be about 4834 pages in length. That’s awesome.

And finally:  You may wonder why a Tibetanist who has basically locked himself up in the 12th century would even care. But one of the dictionaries I am most looking forward to seeing is this one:
Roland Bielmeier (1943-2013), Comparative Dictionary of Tibetan Dialects (CDTD) in five volumes: Introduction, Noun, Verb, Index and Syntax.
Go here and here and here for more information about it.

The truth is, many words from the pre-Mongol period of history that became obsolete or quite rare in later Tibetan writings are still in use in regional dialects (or Tibeto-Burman languages; the distinction between the two is far from clear) in our day. At the very least, knowledge of contemporary dialect terms can supply us with evidence for early meanings. I know some people are fundamentally opposed to the very idea of using present evidence to document the past, but I think we can go ahead and do it if done with honesty and care, as part of a discussion taking in wider realms of evidence. After all, we have to do something when, as happens to Tibetan-language translators with some regularity, we feel the need to find ways to crack the hardest of eggs.


More resources

For a great set of links to various dictionaries (both Sanskrit and Tibetan), look hereAlso, try this.  And this.  There are a number we haven’t mentioned in this blog that you can find using these just-linked resources.

Although I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, I noticed Jue Liang wrote a review of the above-mentioned Tibetan-German dictionary in the Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, vol. 78, no. 2 (2015), pp. 405-408.

You are welcome to drop a line in the comments box if you have suggestions of your own about good dictionaries. We would be glad to hear them, and perhaps other people would like to compare notes and share experiences.

I guess most of my friends already know of my longterm fondness for the “Btsan-lha.” It is especially helpful for the earlier periods of Tibetan vocabulary, including words that people tend not to know anymore:

Btsan-lha Ngag-dbang-tshul-khrims, Brda dkrol gser gyi me long, Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Beijing 1997).*
(*It may be impossible to find or purchase this dictionary, although I expect a reprint any year now. The Padma Karpo Translation Committee has created a digital version, so if this interests you you can go to their site. Be aware that their digital dictionaries are for sale, not for free.)

I just picked this next one up on my latest travels to the east, so I don’t have much to say about it yet. Still, here is another big dictionary in 786 pages:
Sgom-sde Lha-rams-pa Dge-bshes Thub-bstan-bsam-grub, Mdo sngags kyi gzhung chen mo'i tshig mdzod ris med mkhas pa'i zhal lung, Sherig Parkhang (Delhi 2011).  My copy is a 2nd edition, the 1st edition being from 2005. 
As the title suggests, the vocabulary is largely from Buddhist works, it does indeed include quite a few terms from the tantras, and the entries are often quite substantial ones, making it somewhat encyclopedic in nature.

There is also a new Vinaya dictionary that has proven of crucial importance to me a number of times:
'Bras Blo-gling Nyag-re Lha-rams Dge-bshes Tshe-dbang-nyi-ma, Dam chos 'dul ba gtso gyur gyi gzhung sne mang las btus pa'i tshig mdzod mun sel sgron me, Norbulingka Institute (Dharamsala 2009).  
The printing was subsidized by The Corporate Body of the Buddha Educational Foundation of Taipei (it is no. T1476 in their series) which means it is intended for free distribution only. Their generosity only compounds our difficulty in finding copies of this very valuable lexicon. It may be possible to download the book from the Taiwan website. I suppose you might give it a try, but I failed to locate no. T1476 in their download list. (I suggest going there anyway, since there are many other things of great worth.)

Did you know you can download a huge PDF of Melvyn Goldstein & Ngawangthondup Narkyid's English-Tibetan Dictionary of Modern Tibetan (1984) from the prof's own website at Case Western?  Well, you can — by going here.



Added on September 28, 2021:

There is now a fantastically useful presentation about Tibetan dictionaries by Paul Hackett that is likely to be of use to many. And it’s a free video.

 
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