Padampa Portrait - Part Two

Detail of the Padampa lineage painting,
+1 level - click to expand - © Sotheby's 

Today we will continue from the last blog where we talked about the content of the middle register with its central figure being none other Padampa himself.  Now we proceed to move gradually, one level at a time, upward to see who among the Indian teachers of Padampa we may encounter there.

Above you see six circles (go ahead and download it so you can see the details), each enclosing a group of Padampa’s teachers. If  you look closely you will see that the first and last of the six circles contain 5 female figures each, while the four middle circles (the 2nd through the 5th) each contain 11 male figures. Each circle includes a central figure, and the identification of the central figure gives us a key to identifying the group of persons depicted around them. The total number of figures depicted here adds up to 54, which is the correct number for the frequently mentioned group of “54 male and female common siddha teachers of the authorization transmissions” (thun-mong lung-gi bla-ma grub-thob pho mo lnga-bcu-rtsa-bzhi). The word ‘common’ here just means that these teachers were not uniquely Padampa’s but had other students as well. It does not mean ordinary. If you remember, we have a Dharmaśrī text (Dh) that gives a more detailed version of the earlier Jamyang Gonpo text (JG). Both texts treat this as a lineage tree visualization, with the meditator at the center, although they are different in their order, creating a mild and not-all-that lethal confusion. Like our two authorities, we will save the women teachers for later, and start with the 2nd circle. JG says that to the meditator’s back is a group of eleven lamas for the knowledge of philosophy and grammar made up of Klu-sgrub-snying-po and so on. JG has no full listing of names, but this is supplied by Dh. I’ve added what I believe to be the correct Sanskrit forms of the names, although not always with the kind of complete confidence that might be desired by some of you:

[D1] Klu-sgrub-snying-po.  Nāgārjunagarbha or Nāgārjunasāra.

[D2] Shes-rab-bzang-po.  Prajñābhadra.

[D3] Yon-tan-'od.  Guṇaprabha.

[D4] Chos-grags.  Dharmakīrti.

[D5] Ā-ka-ri-siddhi.  Ākarasiddhi.

[D6] Shangka-ra.  Śaṅkara.

[D7] Ye-shes-snying-po.  Jñānagarbha.

[D8] Thogs-med.  Asaṅga.

[D9] Ārya-de-ba.  Āryadeva.

[D10] Zhi-ba-lha.  Śāntideva.

[D11] Gser-gling-pa.  Suvarṇadvīpin.

Klu-sgrub-snying-po is none other than the Nāgārjuna figure with the multiple snakes forming a cover over his head (look closely and you will see them) in the center of the 2nd circle.

If the next group (the 3rd circle) is not at all clear in the painting, we may nevertheless surmise that it must be the group centered on Saraha. He is not often depicted without an arrow, and you don't see any arrow held by any of the other central figures, so this group must be his. (I hope you followed this somewhat tortuous logic. Anyway, the seating posture appears to be the one usually adopted by Saraha.) Here is Dh's listing of the group visualized in front of the meditator, the eleven lamas of the symbolic [transmission of] Great Sealing:

[A1] Sa-ra-ha.  Saraha.

[A2] Tsārya-pa.  Caryāpa.

[A3] Gu-ṇa-ti.  Guṇati?

[A4] Tog-tse-pa.  Kuddāla.

[A5] Ko-ṣha-pa.  Koṣapa?

[A6] Sha-ba-ta.  Śabari?

[A7] Mai-tri-pa.  Maitripā.

[A8] Phā-ga-ra-siddhi.  Sāgarasiddhi.

[A9] Nyi-ma-sbas-pa.  Ravigupta.

[A10] Ā-ka-ra-siddhi.  Ākarasiddhi.

[A11] Ratna-badzra. Ratnavajra.

With only two remaining, it might seem a problem to decide which is which, but I believe the group centered around Buddhaguhya must be the one represented in the non-tantric style, while the one circled around the portly yogi must be the one centered around Saroruhavajra (Mtsho-skyes-rdo-rje), the Hevajra Tantra author, and Hevajra is usually regarded as a Mother Tantra.  So the group in the 4th circle must be the one that includes these persons listed in Dh, visualized to the meditator’s left side.  They are called the 11 lamas of the Mother Tantra experience of bliss (ma rgyud bde ba nyams kyi bla ma bcu gcig):

[C1] Mtsho-skyes-rdo-rje.  Saroruhavajra.

[C2] Indra-bhū-ti.  Indrabhūti.

[C3] Ḍombhi-pa.   Ḍombipa.

[C4] Rdo-rje-dril-bu-pa.  Vajraghaṇṭapa.

[C5] Ti-li-pa.  Tilopa.

[C6] Nag-po-zhabs.  Kṛṣṇapa.

[C7] Sgeg-pa-rdo-rje.  Lalitavajra.

[C8] Lū-i-pa. Lūyipa.

[C9] Bi-rū-pa.  Virūpa.

[C10] Kun-snying (i.e., Kun-dga'-snying-po).  Ānandagarbha.

[C11] Ku-ku-ra-pa.  Kukuripa.

The 5th circle contains the group headed by Buddhaguhya.  Its members are listed by Dh under the descriptive name “the 11 lamas of the Father Tantra winds of motility.” 

[B1] Sangs-rgyas-gsang-ba.  Buddhaguhya.

[B2] Padma-badzra.  Padmavajra.

[B3] Ngag-gi-dbang-phyug.  Vāgīśvara.

[B4] Go-dha-ri.  Godhari? Elsewhere spelled Gu-bha-ri and Ghu-da-ri-pa.

[B5] Karma-badzra.  Karmavajra.

[B6] Dza-ba-ti.  Jabaripa.

[B7] Ye-shes-zhabs.  Jñānapāda

[B8] Klu-byang.  Nāgabodhi.

[B9] Swa-nantā.  Ānanda?

[B10] Kṛṣhṇa-pa.  Kṛṣṇapa.

[B11] Ba-su-dha-ri.  Vasudhārin.

Now for the group of 10 women teachers divided between the first and last circles.  I have no iconographic means to distinguish which is which at the moment, so I will just list them as one group. They are called “the ten skygoers who are lamas of direct introduction to awareness” (mkha' 'gro ma rig pa ngo sprod kyi bla ma bcu):

[E1] Ḍā-ki Su-kha-siddhi.  Sukhāsiddhī.

[E2] Ri-khrod-ma.  Śabarī.

[E3] Padmo-zhabs.  Padmopāda?

[E4] Ku-mu-da.  Kumudā.

[E5] Bde-ba'i-'byung-gnas.  Sukhākara.

[E6] Ganggā-bzang-mo.  Gaṅgābhadrī.

[E7] Tsi-to-ma.  Cintā.

[E8] La-kṣhi-ma.  Lakṣmī.

[E9] Shing-lo-ma.  Parṇā?

[E10] There ought to be ten in the list, but I can only count nine.  The missing one would be  Dri-med-ma.  In Sanskrit, Vimalā. 

Oh my sore back! We’re not nearly done yet with the upper part of the painting, and I’ve already gotten tired. It was a lot more work than I had thought it would be, and I’m not sure how much you are really appreciating it. I can hear some people saying, ‘Too much information already!’ Let me just put off the rest for now and take a short rest. 

At least we’ve gotten through one more very significant part of the painting and identified the figures that are included in the six circles immediately above the figure of Padampa. This is the main group of his Indian teachers according to the sources. If you want to know whether Padampa met these teachers in the flesh or in vision (some, like Saraha, surely must have lived long before him), I don’t have much of an answer that would satisfy everyone. Perhaps it makes better sense to observe that all these teachers’ names appear in texts that were of primary importance to the Zhijé school, in particular the trilogy called the Gold Ball, Silver Ball and Crystal Ball. If you want to know more about these texts, look in the bibliography and look up the references for yourself if you will.

I plan to go ahead with the rest of the painting, although I’m not so sure I will put it all up here on Tibeto-logic blog. I can say that each of the groups of figures above Padampa has something to do with revealing or transmitting specific teachings that are represented in the form of texts in the Zhijé Collection.


I do think a careful consideration of the group of Tibetan students of Padampa in the lower part of the painting might have interesting implications for reconsidering the date of the painting. So maybe we’ll look at that part next time instead of moving up into the higher levels.

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Bibliography:

Kurtis Schaeffer, Crystal Orbs and Arcane Treasuries: Tibetan Anthologies of Buddhist Tantric Songs from the Tradition of Pha Dam pa sangs rgyas, Acta Orientalia (Oslo), vol. 68 (2007), pp. 5-73. Here on pp. 20-22, you may find English translations of incipit and colophon for three texts that explicitly state that they are teachings of the “54 male and female teachers.” The same three texts may be found in the publication that follows, pp. 1-16.

Mkhas-grub Khyung-po-rnal-'byor et al., Zhi byed dang shangs pa'i chos skor, Dpal brtsegs bod yig dpe rnying zhib 'jug khang, Bod ljongs mi dmangs dpe skrun khang (Lhasa 2010). This is a small and handsome paperback volume, no. 7 in the series called Mkhyen brtse'i 'od snang, containing several of the key Zhijé texts in a nicely edited form with very clear print, making them easier to read. All of the Zhijé texts included in this book have been published previously. I mention it here because it’s inexpensive and accessible.

The Zhijé Collection, as I call it for short, is the most important available resource on Padampa and his Zhijé teachings by far (originally in 4 volumes, but published in 5). TBRC (Tibetan Buddhist Resource Center) makes it available in PDFs, which is wonderful, but they catalog it under the name “Zhi byed snga bar phyi gsum gyi skor.”  This incorrectly made up title implies that it includes the early and middle transmission texts of the Zhijé, when in fact it has the texts of the later transmission alone.* 

(*This means primarily the one transmitted by Kunga, although there were 3 other disciples of Padampa who held transmissions that are also called “later” and that had smaller text collections that have not surfaced yet, although they certainly existed in earlier times.)

To get to the Zhijé Collection, try this link, or if that doesn’t work, try this one (http://www.tbrc.org/) and type “W23911” in their search box. In the future, if a Tibetan title for the collection is needed, I think it ought to reflect the title that is actually there on the manuscript. Although difficult to read in the reprint edition, it is more legible in the microfilm version of the text that was made independently by the Nepal-German Manuscript Preservation Project. What we find there is this:  Dam chos snying po zhi byed las / rgyud phyi snyan rgyud zab khyad ma bzhugs // glang skor bzim chung phyag pe'o [~glang 'khor gzim chung phyag dpe'o]. If a short title is needed, I recommend Zab khyad ma, which means [the manuscript - or the transmission it represents - called] Exceptionally Profound.

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Note: No sooner had I posted this blog than I thought I have to take back my idea about calling the entire Zhijé Collection under the name Zab khyad ma. Actually, although it only appears in the microfilm of the text (like so many other things, actually), there is a colophon at the end of the first volume (ka) of the original manuscript that brings the Zab khyad ma to an end. In other words, this title only applies to the teachings of Padampa and his Indian teachers, and not to the responsa (zhu-lan) texts etc. of Kunga and later members of the lineage that fill up the rest of the collection (and the greater bulk of it).  Another point that may seem small, the information in this colophon applies only to the first volume, and ought to be understood as a copying of an earlier (now ‘lost’) textual entity that had the same content as the first volume... OK, enough of that for now.

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...

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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.

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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.

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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