Meet the Lamas
by Bhupesh Bhandari
New Delhi January 12, 2012, 0:31 IST
My favourite story of the Dalai Lama concerns the 13th incarnate: in 1907, two British soldiers posted on Sikkim’s border with Tibet woke up one night when a couple of ragtag men banged at the door of their chowki. It was the Dalai Lama, on the run from Lhasa, which had been taken over by Chinese imperial troops. The Tibetan party was reassured at the sight of the two British rifles at the outpost, and the Dalai Lama slept peacefully in the thought that these were good enough to engage Chinese bounty hunters. The next morning, the two British soldiers slung their rifles over their shoulders and escorted the Dalai Lama to a safe place. They never told the Dalai Lama that they didn’t have any ammunition for the rifles. “Thank heaven we have got the Boss of Tibet off our bally hands safe and sound,” one of the two remarked.
This incident pretty well sums up the life of the Dalai Lama: hunted, naïve, and often powerless. Tibet has been an easy hunting ground for the Chinese, Mongol, British Indian and Nepalese armies. Is it because of Buddhism, the religion they practise, which makes them inherently non-violent? Yes and no. No because Buddhist Tibet has a violent history. In the middle ages, the Tibetan armies marched all over China. Monastic schools were often at war with each other. Intrigue and murder were common among the rulers, including the highest Lamas. No also because violence was a way of life for a section of Tibetan society: the Khampas, the residents of the province of Kham in the east. They wore long matted hair, moved around with swords and knives, and never thought twice before they waylaid unsuspecting travellers — often Indians on their way to Mansarovar and Kailash.
Sam Van Schaik’s forte is early Tibetan history. He lays out in good detail how Buddhism spread in Tibet. Buddhism, like Hinduism, is a great assimilator. Bon, the ancient religion of Tibet, has thus become a school of Buddhism. Schaik’s understanding of Tibetan Buddhism, and the Indian influences, is deep. But one could argue with his focus on the high Lamas. True, the Lamas, and the various schools, have shaped Tibet’s history. But it would have helped if he had talked about Tibetan society at large. Were they farmer-warriors? What made them daredevil merchants? (In Kumaon, cantankerous grandmothers are often threatened that they’ll be put in a Lama merchant’s bag — you never know where he’ll go next!)
How did excessive monasticism shape Tibetan society? There came a time when more than half the people of Tibet were in monasteries. Homosexuality was rampant in the monasteries, and so was polyandry in the villages. Heinrich Harrer, an Austrian prisoner of war during World War II who had escaped from Dehra Dun and walked all the way to Lhasa and spent seven years there (he died six years ago), found the Lamas soft and plump. They were clearly not used to hard physical work — most of the monasteries had their own agricultural estates and there were farmers who cultivated the fields and harvested the crops. So, was it a serf-and-master relationship? Bits about the aam admi would have helped.
It is perhaps Schaik’s expertise in old Tibet that makes him compress recent (the last 200 years or so) history. The Pundits, or British-Indian spies, who travelled across Tibet, capturing every distance they covered and measuring every height they climbed using ingenious methods, barely get a mention. Nain Singh, the Pundit of Pundits (Pundits because the first few of them were schoolteachers) who travelled to Tibet thrice in disguise, was an avid diary writer. His diaries carry amazing details of life in Tibet. The diaries kept by his nephew, Kishan Singh, are lost. His descendants claim that the diaries are under lock and key in the foreign office malkhana because the Pundit had seen 125 years ago that Tibetan border check posts were manned by the Chinese. This would run counter to India’s claim that Tibet was never a part of China. India has now done a course correction and says Tibet is an autonomous part of China!
Schaik would have also done well to touch upon some recent controversies. For centuries, Tibet was closed to foreigners. Though a few enthusiastic Jesuits reached Lhasa and saw great hope in converting the heathens, most others couldn’t cross the borders. Alexandra David-Neel’s claim that she reached Lhasa dressed as a native was later called a hoax by many. Recent accounts also say that William Moorcroft, the veterinarian (and ladies’ man to boot) who travelled to Mansarovar under disguise (a gosain named Purangiri) and was learnt to have died in Afghanistan, faked his death and was seen in Lhasa!
Still, Schaik does full justice to the infamous 1903 expedition to Lhasa led by explorer and unabashed imperialist Francis Younghusband. Calcutta was alarmed at the growing clout of a Russian monk called Dorjiev (some texts refer to him as Dorjieff) at the Dalai Lama’s Potala palace. Rumours were spread that he was the Czar’s agent and had brought a huge cache of Russian rifles to Lhasa. The Great Game was being played out at the roof of the world. Younghusband did reach Lhasa (via Shigatse), with his Gurkha and Sikh troops and Maxim machine guns, killing hundreds, but found no trace of Russian rifles. An out-of-body experience at Lhasa made him an Orientalist. Was it revelation or guilty conscience in disguise?
TIBET: A HISTORY
Sam Van Schaik
Amaryllis
411 pages; Rs 695
source: Business Standard
by Bhupesh Bhandari
New Delhi January 12, 2012, 0:31 IST
My favourite story of the Dalai Lama concerns the 13th incarnate: in 1907, two British soldiers posted on Sikkim’s border with Tibet woke up one night when a couple of ragtag men banged at the door of their chowki. It was the Dalai Lama, on the run from Lhasa, which had been taken over by Chinese imperial troops. The Tibetan party was reassured at the sight of the two British rifles at the outpost, and the Dalai Lama slept peacefully in the thought that these were good enough to engage Chinese bounty hunters. The next morning, the two British soldiers slung their rifles over their shoulders and escorted the Dalai Lama to a safe place. They never told the Dalai Lama that they didn’t have any ammunition for the rifles. “Thank heaven we have got the Boss of Tibet off our bally hands safe and sound,” one of the two remarked.
This incident pretty well sums up the life of the Dalai Lama: hunted, naïve, and often powerless. Tibet has been an easy hunting ground for the Chinese, Mongol, British Indian and Nepalese armies. Is it because of Buddhism, the religion they practise, which makes them inherently non-violent? Yes and no. No because Buddhist Tibet has a violent history. In the middle ages, the Tibetan armies marched all over China. Monastic schools were often at war with each other. Intrigue and murder were common among the rulers, including the highest Lamas. No also because violence was a way of life for a section of Tibetan society: the Khampas, the residents of the province of Kham in the east. They wore long matted hair, moved around with swords and knives, and never thought twice before they waylaid unsuspecting travellers — often Indians on their way to Mansarovar and Kailash.
Sam Van Schaik’s forte is early Tibetan history. He lays out in good detail how Buddhism spread in Tibet. Buddhism, like Hinduism, is a great assimilator. Bon, the ancient religion of Tibet, has thus become a school of Buddhism. Schaik’s understanding of Tibetan Buddhism, and the Indian influences, is deep. But one could argue with his focus on the high Lamas. True, the Lamas, and the various schools, have shaped Tibet’s history. But it would have helped if he had talked about Tibetan society at large. Were they farmer-warriors? What made them daredevil merchants? (In Kumaon, cantankerous grandmothers are often threatened that they’ll be put in a Lama merchant’s bag — you never know where he’ll go next!)
How did excessive monasticism shape Tibetan society? There came a time when more than half the people of Tibet were in monasteries. Homosexuality was rampant in the monasteries, and so was polyandry in the villages. Heinrich Harrer, an Austrian prisoner of war during World War II who had escaped from Dehra Dun and walked all the way to Lhasa and spent seven years there (he died six years ago), found the Lamas soft and plump. They were clearly not used to hard physical work — most of the monasteries had their own agricultural estates and there were farmers who cultivated the fields and harvested the crops. So, was it a serf-and-master relationship? Bits about the aam admi would have helped.
It is perhaps Schaik’s expertise in old Tibet that makes him compress recent (the last 200 years or so) history. The Pundits, or British-Indian spies, who travelled across Tibet, capturing every distance they covered and measuring every height they climbed using ingenious methods, barely get a mention. Nain Singh, the Pundit of Pundits (Pundits because the first few of them were schoolteachers) who travelled to Tibet thrice in disguise, was an avid diary writer. His diaries carry amazing details of life in Tibet. The diaries kept by his nephew, Kishan Singh, are lost. His descendants claim that the diaries are under lock and key in the foreign office malkhana because the Pundit had seen 125 years ago that Tibetan border check posts were manned by the Chinese. This would run counter to India’s claim that Tibet was never a part of China. India has now done a course correction and says Tibet is an autonomous part of China!
Schaik would have also done well to touch upon some recent controversies. For centuries, Tibet was closed to foreigners. Though a few enthusiastic Jesuits reached Lhasa and saw great hope in converting the heathens, most others couldn’t cross the borders. Alexandra David-Neel’s claim that she reached Lhasa dressed as a native was later called a hoax by many. Recent accounts also say that William Moorcroft, the veterinarian (and ladies’ man to boot) who travelled to Mansarovar under disguise (a gosain named Purangiri) and was learnt to have died in Afghanistan, faked his death and was seen in Lhasa!
Still, Schaik does full justice to the infamous 1903 expedition to Lhasa led by explorer and unabashed imperialist Francis Younghusband. Calcutta was alarmed at the growing clout of a Russian monk called Dorjiev (some texts refer to him as Dorjieff) at the Dalai Lama’s Potala palace. Rumours were spread that he was the Czar’s agent and had brought a huge cache of Russian rifles to Lhasa. The Great Game was being played out at the roof of the world. Younghusband did reach Lhasa (via Shigatse), with his Gurkha and Sikh troops and Maxim machine guns, killing hundreds, but found no trace of Russian rifles. An out-of-body experience at Lhasa made him an Orientalist. Was it revelation or guilty conscience in disguise?
TIBET: A HISTORY
Sam Van Schaik
Amaryllis
411 pages; Rs 695
source: Business Standard
No comments:
Post a Comment