Re: Three Years in Tibet, by Ekai Kawaguchi
Posted: Tue Dec 10, 2019 4:31 am
CHAPTER XXIX. On the Road to Nature’s Grand Mandala.
Apart from these fancies, I really felt as if I had entered a civilised region, for beyond I espied a main building and priests’ quarters, and also what looked like a stone tower.
The whole sight was really impressive. The presence of stone buildings especially attracted my attention, for stones are very rare and costly on a Tibetan steppe.
The place was the town just mentioned, called Reta-puri (town of hungry devils), a name which Paldan Aṭīsha gave to the place when he arrived here from India on the work of evangelisation. The name is not inapplicable to the Tibetans.
The Tibetans may indeed be regarded as devils that live on dung, being the most filthy race of all the people I have ever seen or heard of.
They must have presented a similarly filthy appearance at the time of the visit of Aṭīsha, who therefore gave to the place the not inappropriate title of Preṭa-purī. The Tibetans, thanks to their ignorance of Samskṛṭ, are rather proud of the name, being under the belief that it has some holy meaning. After Aṭīsha had founded a temple, several high Lamas resided in this place, and a Lama called Gyalwa Gottsang Pa, of the Dugpa sect, founded a most imposing Lamaserai, which stands to this day.
It is, as I said, a very magnificent establishment, containing four or five priests’ residential quarters, in one of which I passed a night.
My companion took leave of me after having completed his visit to the holy places. I took a frugal lunch in my lodging and then, under the guidance of one of the priests[163] of the temple, sallied out to visit all the holy objects on the premises. The main building was of stone and measured about eight yards by ten. It was of one storey, and was in this unlike most other Tibetan Lamaserais, which are generally two or three storied. The most sacred relics in the temple were the images of Shākyamuni and Lobon Rinpoche (Padma Chungne), founder of the Old Sect of Tibet. To this Lobon are attached many strange legends and traditions, such as would startle even the most degenerate of Japanese priests; but I cannot here relate all those revolting stories. I already knew the strange history of the founder of this Tibetan sect, and so, when I noticed the two images worshipped side by side, a sensation of nausea came over me. It was really blasphemy against Buḍḍha, for Lobon was in practice a devil in the disguise of a priest, and behaved as if he had been born for the very purpose of corrupting and preventing the spread of the holy doctrines of Buḍḍha.
A curtain was hanging in front of the high altar, and one tanka, about sixpence, was the fee for the privilege of looking at the relic behind it. I paid the fee and found that the relic was nothing else than the image engraved on stone of that abominable Lobon. Tradition says that Lobon’s image was naturally inscribed on the rock when he came here and stood before it, and this fantastic story is fully believed in by the simple-minded folk of Tibet. They would not dare to look straight at the image, for fear that their eyes might become blind. I had no such superstition to deter me, and so I gazed with careful scrutiny at the engraved image, and convinced myself that some crafty priests must have drawn on a piece of rock a picture of some priest and that the picture must have been afterwards tricked out with suitable pigments. The engraving too was a clumsy piece of workmanship destitute of any merit whatever, and without even the[164] slightest technical charm, such as might persuade the credulous to regard the image as a natural impression on a rock.
I felt sorry for the sake of the Tibetan religion that such wicked impositions should be suffered to prevail, though the Tibetan priests may on their part reply that Japan is not much better in this respect than Tibet, and that such frauds are not unknown in Japan.
Of whatever impious deeds the Lamas may be guilty, the whole neighborhood was such as to inspire one with chaste thoughts and holy ideas. This seems to be widely accepted in Tibet, for the Tibetans have a saying to this effect: “Not to visit Reta-puri is not to visit the snow-capped Kang Rinpoche; not to go around Lake Kholgyal is not to perform the sacred circuit around Lake Mapham-yumtso.”
This saying means that the visit to Kang Rinpoche only completes one-half of the holy journey unless Reta-puri is visited at the same time, and that the visit to Lake Mapham-yumtso (Mānasarovara) will avail nothing unless Kholgyal is visited at the same time.
The place indeed deserves this high honor, and undoubtedly it constitutes one of nature’s best essays in landscape. Let me describe here a little of this enchanting sight. First there was the river Langchen Khanbab, flowing towards the west, with the opposite bank steep and precipitous, and with rocks piled up here and there, some yellow, some crimson, others blue, still others green, and some others purple. The chequered coloring was beautiful, and looked like a rainbow or a tinted fog, if such a thing could exist. It was a splendid sight. And the rocks were highly fantastic, for some were sharp and angular, and others protruded over the river. The nearer bank was equally abrupt and was full of queerly shaped rocks, and each of those rocks bore a name given to it by the priests of the temple. There was a rock which[165] was known by the name of the “Devil Surrender Rock;” another was called the “Twin Images of the saintly Prince and his Lady;” a third bore the name of “Tise Rock;” a fourth “Goddess of Mercy Rock;” and a fifth “Kāṣyapa Buḍḍha Tower.” All these rocks were objects of veneration to the common people.
I should have been deeply impressed by this unique grandeur of nature, had it not been that I was scandalised by the sight of the misguided veneration, if not worse, paid to the memory of Lobon Rinpoche. As it was, even the kind explanations of my cicerone jarred on my ears.
About two hundred and fifty yards down the bank, from a cavern known as the Divine Grotto, several hot springs were gushing out from between the rocks. Three of them were rather large, while the other three were smaller. The water of all the springs was warm, indeed some was so hot that I could hardly dip the tip of my finger into it. The temperature of that particular spring must have far exceeded 100° Fahrenheit. The water of the springs was quite transparent, and all about them there were many hard incrustations, some white, others red, still others green or blue. The visitors to the place are said to carry away pieces of this incrustation, which are believed to possess a high medicinal value, and so they must have, if properly used.
After having visited all the places of interest, I returned to my quarters and passed the night in meditation. The next morning I left the place, and resumed my journey toward the tent.
Somehow I lost my way in the plain, and when I had already walked five hours I had not reached the river which I ought to have reached in about three hours. I looked round and noticed to my surprise that I had been travelling towards the north, instead of towards the north-east.
Proceeding briskly onward in the right direction I at last reached a river, which I crossed. By that time the sun had begun to decline, and I had had nothing to eat all that day. I afterwards heard that the people of the tent began to be alarmed at my non-appearance, and feared that I must have been carried away by the river and drowned. When I arrived at the tent, weary with the walk and with hunger, I saw the daughter of the family coming out of the tent with some sheep. She was highly delighted to see me, and I was told that she was about to go out in search for me.
On the following day we proceeded eastward and arrived at the steppe lying to the north-east of Lake Rakgal and north-west of Lake Mānasarovara. It was a slope formed by the gradual descent of the spurs of Tise toward Mānasarovara. That night we pitched our tent on that plain, and then our journey towards the sacred mountains began.
Apart from these fancies, I really felt as if I had entered a civilised region, for beyond I espied a main building and priests’ quarters, and also what looked like a stone tower.
The whole sight was really impressive. The presence of stone buildings especially attracted my attention, for stones are very rare and costly on a Tibetan steppe.
The place was the town just mentioned, called Reta-puri (town of hungry devils), a name which Paldan Aṭīsha gave to the place when he arrived here from India on the work of evangelisation. The name is not inapplicable to the Tibetans.
The Tibetans may indeed be regarded as devils that live on dung, being the most filthy race of all the people I have ever seen or heard of.
They must have presented a similarly filthy appearance at the time of the visit of Aṭīsha, who therefore gave to the place the not inappropriate title of Preṭa-purī. The Tibetans, thanks to their ignorance of Samskṛṭ, are rather proud of the name, being under the belief that it has some holy meaning. After Aṭīsha had founded a temple, several high Lamas resided in this place, and a Lama called Gyalwa Gottsang Pa, of the Dugpa sect, founded a most imposing Lamaserai, which stands to this day.
It is, as I said, a very magnificent establishment, containing four or five priests’ residential quarters, in one of which I passed a night.
My companion took leave of me after having completed his visit to the holy places. I took a frugal lunch in my lodging and then, under the guidance of one of the priests[163] of the temple, sallied out to visit all the holy objects on the premises. The main building was of stone and measured about eight yards by ten. It was of one storey, and was in this unlike most other Tibetan Lamaserais, which are generally two or three storied. The most sacred relics in the temple were the images of Shākyamuni and Lobon Rinpoche (Padma Chungne), founder of the Old Sect of Tibet. To this Lobon are attached many strange legends and traditions, such as would startle even the most degenerate of Japanese priests; but I cannot here relate all those revolting stories. I already knew the strange history of the founder of this Tibetan sect, and so, when I noticed the two images worshipped side by side, a sensation of nausea came over me. It was really blasphemy against Buḍḍha, for Lobon was in practice a devil in the disguise of a priest, and behaved as if he had been born for the very purpose of corrupting and preventing the spread of the holy doctrines of Buḍḍha.
A curtain was hanging in front of the high altar, and one tanka, about sixpence, was the fee for the privilege of looking at the relic behind it. I paid the fee and found that the relic was nothing else than the image engraved on stone of that abominable Lobon. Tradition says that Lobon’s image was naturally inscribed on the rock when he came here and stood before it, and this fantastic story is fully believed in by the simple-minded folk of Tibet. They would not dare to look straight at the image, for fear that their eyes might become blind. I had no such superstition to deter me, and so I gazed with careful scrutiny at the engraved image, and convinced myself that some crafty priests must have drawn on a piece of rock a picture of some priest and that the picture must have been afterwards tricked out with suitable pigments. The engraving too was a clumsy piece of workmanship destitute of any merit whatever, and without even the[164] slightest technical charm, such as might persuade the credulous to regard the image as a natural impression on a rock.
I felt sorry for the sake of the Tibetan religion that such wicked impositions should be suffered to prevail, though the Tibetan priests may on their part reply that Japan is not much better in this respect than Tibet, and that such frauds are not unknown in Japan.
Of whatever impious deeds the Lamas may be guilty, the whole neighborhood was such as to inspire one with chaste thoughts and holy ideas. This seems to be widely accepted in Tibet, for the Tibetans have a saying to this effect: “Not to visit Reta-puri is not to visit the snow-capped Kang Rinpoche; not to go around Lake Kholgyal is not to perform the sacred circuit around Lake Mapham-yumtso.”
This saying means that the visit to Kang Rinpoche only completes one-half of the holy journey unless Reta-puri is visited at the same time, and that the visit to Lake Mapham-yumtso (Mānasarovara) will avail nothing unless Kholgyal is visited at the same time.
The place indeed deserves this high honor, and undoubtedly it constitutes one of nature’s best essays in landscape. Let me describe here a little of this enchanting sight. First there was the river Langchen Khanbab, flowing towards the west, with the opposite bank steep and precipitous, and with rocks piled up here and there, some yellow, some crimson, others blue, still others green, and some others purple. The chequered coloring was beautiful, and looked like a rainbow or a tinted fog, if such a thing could exist. It was a splendid sight. And the rocks were highly fantastic, for some were sharp and angular, and others protruded over the river. The nearer bank was equally abrupt and was full of queerly shaped rocks, and each of those rocks bore a name given to it by the priests of the temple. There was a rock which[165] was known by the name of the “Devil Surrender Rock;” another was called the “Twin Images of the saintly Prince and his Lady;” a third bore the name of “Tise Rock;” a fourth “Goddess of Mercy Rock;” and a fifth “Kāṣyapa Buḍḍha Tower.” All these rocks were objects of veneration to the common people.
I should have been deeply impressed by this unique grandeur of nature, had it not been that I was scandalised by the sight of the misguided veneration, if not worse, paid to the memory of Lobon Rinpoche. As it was, even the kind explanations of my cicerone jarred on my ears.
About two hundred and fifty yards down the bank, from a cavern known as the Divine Grotto, several hot springs were gushing out from between the rocks. Three of them were rather large, while the other three were smaller. The water of all the springs was warm, indeed some was so hot that I could hardly dip the tip of my finger into it. The temperature of that particular spring must have far exceeded 100° Fahrenheit. The water of the springs was quite transparent, and all about them there were many hard incrustations, some white, others red, still others green or blue. The visitors to the place are said to carry away pieces of this incrustation, which are believed to possess a high medicinal value, and so they must have, if properly used.
After having visited all the places of interest, I returned to my quarters and passed the night in meditation. The next morning I left the place, and resumed my journey toward the tent.
Somehow I lost my way in the plain, and when I had already walked five hours I had not reached the river which I ought to have reached in about three hours. I looked round and noticed to my surprise that I had been travelling towards the north, instead of towards the north-east.
Proceeding briskly onward in the right direction I at last reached a river, which I crossed. By that time the sun had begun to decline, and I had had nothing to eat all that day. I afterwards heard that the people of the tent began to be alarmed at my non-appearance, and feared that I must have been carried away by the river and drowned. When I arrived at the tent, weary with the walk and with hunger, I saw the daughter of the family coming out of the tent with some sheep. She was highly delighted to see me, and I was told that she was about to go out in search for me.
On the following day we proceeded eastward and arrived at the steppe lying to the north-east of Lake Rakgal and north-west of Lake Mānasarovara. It was a slope formed by the gradual descent of the spurs of Tise toward Mānasarovara. That night we pitched our tent on that plain, and then our journey towards the sacred mountains began.