Source of Life: Revitalisation Rites and Bon Shamans in Bhutan and the Eastern Himalayas (Denkschriften Der Philosophisch-historischen Klasse) 9783700182696, 3700182694

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SOURCE of LIFE REVITALISATION RITES AND BON SHAMANS IN BHUTAN AND THE EASTERN HIMALAYAS

VOLUME I

TONI HUBER

AUSTRIAN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES DENKSCHRIFTEN DER PHILOSOPHISCH-HISTORISCHE KLASSE Band 518 Veröffentlichungen zur Sozialanthropologie Band 24

S OU R C E OF L I F E

Toni Huber

SOU RCE OF L I FE

Revitalisation Rites and Bon Shamans in Bhutan and the Eastern Himalayas VOLUME I

Accepted by the Publication Committee of the Division of Humanities and Social Sciences of the Austrian Academy of Sciences by: Michael Alram, Bert G. Fragner, Andre Gingrich, Hermann Hunger, Sigrid Jalkotzy-Deger, Renate Pillinger, Franz Rainer, Oliver Jens Schmitt, Danuta Shanzer, Peter Wiesinger, Waldemar Zacharasiewicz This publication was subject to international and anonymous peer review. Peer review is an essential part of the Austrian Academy of Sciences Press evaluation process. Before any book can be accepted for publication, it is assessed by international specialists and ultimately must be approved by the Austrian Academy of Sciences Publication Committee. The paper used in this publication is DIN EN ISO 9706 certified and meets the requirements for permanent archiving of written cultural property. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means (graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or information storage and retrieval systems) without written permission from the copyright holder. Copyright © Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna 2020 Layout and typography: Tara Daellenbach, Christchurch (based on a design by Stéphane de Schrevel, Gent) Printed by: Print Alliance, Bad Vöslau Paper: Gardapat 13 Kiara, Font: Arno Pro ISBN 978-3-7001-8269-6 https://epub.oeaw.ac.at/8269-6 https://verlag.oeaw.ac.at Made in Europe Cover illustration: Tsheshomba ceremonial groups processing to the sacred grove during a Lhasöshe festival, Thempang, West Kameng, 20 February 2011. Frontispiece: Bon shamans performing a rite among the ruins of old Tsango during a Lhamoche festival, Khoma valley, east Bhutan, 8 January 2012. Source: Courtesy of Gerhard Heller. Published with the support of the German Research Foundation.

Contents



Not e on I n dige nous Te x ts, Tr a nscr i p t ion a n d Na m e s 



I n t roduct ion 

1

i. Or i entations

11

1.

ii.

Overview of the Sr id-pa’i lha Cult  1.1

A Diffuse Yet Coherent Non-Religious Phenomenon – 13

1.2

A ncestor Propitiation for Revitalisation of Descent Groups – 16

1.3

Terms of Reference – 18

1.4

The Cult’s Regional Distribution and Context – 25

1.5

Ex isting Accounts and Sources– 36

Cosmos a n d My t h 2.

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lha Cosmos 2.1

Mobile and Divisible Vitality – 45

2.2

The Srid-pa’i lha and Vitality – 48

2.3

Vitality’s Modes – 50

2.4

Flows of Tshe, g.Yang and Phya – 50

x iii

13

43 45

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Source of Life

3.

4.

2.5

Ritual Manipulation of Vitality – 54

2.6

Procreation and A ffinity – 61

2.7

Mobile Vitality at Large in the World – 63

2.8

Motifs of Life’s Beginnings – 75

Pr incipa l Deities of Worship 3.1

Categor y Designations – 80

3.2

’O-de Gung-rg yal – 82

3.3

Gurzhe and Gu-se Lang-ling – 91

3.4

Tshangs-pa – 93

3.5

Sibling A ncestral Deities – 94

3.6

Female Deities – 98

3.7

Communal and A ncestral Pho lha from the Sky – 100

Pr imor dia l Initiators 4.1

The Messenger, the Protector and the Crisis Manager – 103

4.2

Origins of the Messenger Bat – 105

4.3

The Ver y Profound Bat – 108

4.4

Bats as Eastern Himalayan Tricksters – 109

4.5

Bat Narrative Variations – 122

4.6

The Bat and the Shaman – 127

4.7

Origins of Ya-ngal the Protector – 130

4.8

Title and Name – 131

4.9

Ya-ngal in Tibetan Salvation Religions – 134

4.10 The Younger Brothers – 135 4.11 Iconography in the Context of Ethnography – 138 4.12 Three Forms of gShen-rab the Crisis Manager – 145

viii

79

103

Contents

iii. R it ua l Speci a lists a n d Th eir Tech n iqu e s 5.

6.

7.

8.

161

Bon Sha mans163 5.1

Delimiting Shamans – 163

5.2

Social Status and Identities – 166

5.3

Transmission – 169

5.4

Aux iliaries, A ncestors and Genealog y – 173

5.5

Restrictions and R itual Purity – 177

M ater ia l Cultur e of Bon Sha mans 6.1

Turbans and Turban-like Headgear – 183

6.2

R itual Accoutrements – 198

6.3

Origin Narratives for Shaman Paraphernalia – 219

6.4

The Shaman’s Patrimony – 223

R ite Techniques of Bon Sha mans 7.1

Performing R itual Texts – 227

7.2

Aux iliar y Beings – 24 4

7.3

Verbal R itual Journeys – 252

7.4

Divination – 270

7.5

Secret Spells – 275

7.6

Maintenance of the Vitality Principle – 276

Other R itua l Per for mers in the Cult 8.1

Stamping – 290

8.2

Jumping – 293

8.3

Consorts of the lHa – 296

R eflections I

183

227

289

299

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Source of Life

i v.

Fe sti va l Docu m en tations

9.

The Lhamoche Festival of Tsango 9.1

Community, History and Environs – 309

9.2

Local Social Ordering – 312

9.3

Cultural Practices and Patterns – 314

9.4

The Lhamoche Festival of 2011/12 – 315

9.5

Preparatory Days – 327

9.6

Festival Day One – 334

9.7

Festival Day Two – 336

9.8

Festival Day Three – 341

9.9

Festival Day Four – 350

301 309

9.10 Festival Day Five – 359 9.11 Festival Day Six – 373 9.12 Festival Day Seven – 383 9.13 Transformations – 384 10.

The Aheylha Festival of Changmadung

10.1 Community, History and Environs – 387 10.2 Migration and Revival of Rites – 388 10.3 The Aheylha Festival of 2011 – 390 10.4 Setting and Preparations – 394 10.5 Festival Day One – 398 10.6 Festival Day Two – 410 10.7 Festival Day Three – 413 10.8 The Lost Narrative – 417 10.9 Transformations – 421

x

387

Contents

11.

The Bapu Lhasöshe Festival of Thempang 

425

11.1 Community, History and Environs – 425 11.2 Clans and Status Groups – 427 11.3 The Bapu Lhasöshe Festival of 2011 – 437 11.4 Setting and Preparations – 449 11.5 Festival Day One – 456 11.6 Festival Day Two – 486 11.7 Festival Day Three – 487 11.8 Festival Day Four – 493 11.9 Transformations – 493 12.

The Pla Festival of Lhau

497

12.1 Geography of Pla – 497 12.2 Alternative Social History of Tawang Tsho-gsum – 499 12.3 Reconstruction of Pla Festivals at Lhau – 503 12.4 Festival Day One – 518 12.5 Festival Day Two – 519 12.6 Festival Day Three – 520 12.7 Decline and Demise of Pla – 522 12.8 Transformations: Pla as Spectacle – 526 13.

Wild Animals, Talismans and Mimicking

531

13.1 Nawan Rites – 532 13.2 Nawan and Animal Heads – 533 13.3 Nawan and Mimicking – 542 13.4 Eastern Himalayan Ethnographic Parallels – 548 Reflections II

551

Notes561

xi

Note on I n digenous Te xts, Tr a nscr iption a n d Na m es

The data informing this study were gathered within a regionally complex linguistic environment dominated by languages in the Tibeto-Burman phylum (also known as Sino-Tibetan or Trans-Himalayan in different sources). Spoken languages of research subjects included a range from within the East Bodish group (i.e., Bumthap, Dakpa, Dzala, Khengkha, Kurtöp, and the dialect complex variously named Henkha/Nyenkha/Phobjip/Upper Mangdep), also Tibetic Chocha-ngacha and Brokpaké, as well as currently unclassified Tshangla and two languages from the provisionally named Kho-Bwa cluster (i.e., Rahung Sartang and Mey/Sherdukpen). Modern Dzongkha, modern Tibetan, Hindi, English and Assamese are also spoken as languages of governance, education, religion and marketplace commerce in different parts of the research region. In contrast to this high diversity of spoken languages, Classical Tibetan has served as the underlying liturgical language of the Srid-pa’i lha cult that is the main subject of this book, regardless of which languages the cult’s participants speak. The Tibetan script has been employed to produce all premodern and most modern local documents related to the mythology, ritual, genealogy and history of this cult. A significant number of local manuscripts used by the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s ritual specialists, and treated as primary research sources in this book, have been written by speakers of East Bodish languages in some form of hybrid between their colloquial speech and Classical Tibetan. Such hybrid texts range across a spectrum, from what are tantamount to indigenous phonetic transcriptions of spoken languages at one extreme, to sporadic incorporation of individual features from everyday speech into the standardised and long-established morphosyntax and vocabulary of

Classical Tibetan. The irregular grammatical structures, or vocabulary items and orthographies not attested elsewhere that occur in this textual corpus are not – as András Höfer (1997) once rightly observed of hybrid Tamang ritual texts – to be considered as “some form of corrupt Tibetan”. At the time of writing, East Bodish languages had received scant documentation and their phylogeny within the Tibeto-Burman family was still little understood, thus the relationship between them and Tibetan (or Tibetic) languages remains a moot point. I avoid attributing a precise language identity to words and phrases occurring in these ritual texts unless contextual evidence strongly supports this, and if so, I indicate Classical Tibetan (= CT) cognates in parentheses. For the same reason, I have been conservative when producing editions from local manuscripts, but also to preserve the record of local practices of writing and to avoid hypercorrection. Emendations are only inserted where clear parallel readings are available from closely related manuscripts within the same area, and for a few unambiguous cases of simple spelling and grammar. All are marked in the text editions using standard apparatus. Wylie (1959) romanisation is used to transcribe all original source documents written in Tibetan script, albeit with my own preferences for its application. Proper names have inter-syllabic hyphenation, with capitalised ‘word foundation’ (ming gzhi) consonants rather than prefixes (e.g., bKrashis mKhas-grub). The exception is that italicised formal titles of written texts and oral narratives (and their abbreviations) have the initial consonant capitalised regardless of its function (e.g., Rta rabs). I use capital ‘A’ to distinguish the thirtieth Tibetan consonant (e.g., A ya for rather than a ya), and ‘w’ to represent the wa zur character. The editorial

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Source of Life

policy of Old Tibetan Documents Online (see OTDO in References) has been followed for two special cases of Wylie use: capitalised I represents a reversed gi gu vowel sign; and “[w]hen two consonants form a vertical ligature which is not legal in Classical Tibetan grammar, the + sign is inserted between them”, which in my data only occurs for s+ho terminals consisting of a superfix sa above consonant ha carrying the vowel o. To relate Wylie transcriptions of longer text passages in the Notes back to their translations in the main text, folio numbers from source documents are placed in square brackets along the margins of any translations that cover at least two folio sides (r/v) of an original manuscript. Two of the longer texts I translate, namely the Bro rabs from Thempang (ch. 11) and the Lha’i gsung rabs from the Dzala language area (ch. 16), have facsimiles of their original manuscripts provided in the Appendices (see appx. I, appx. K, respectively), rather than romanised editions generated by me. Any philological and linguistic issues concerning these texts are addressed in annotations to their translations, leaving specialist readers to directly consult the facsimiles as need be. In the case of the Lha’i gsung rabs text, which is a complex hybrid based upon dialects of Dzala, most aspects of philological editing are not possible, thus a romanised version would have merely duplicated the facsimile. All Wylie entries in the References and Index are listed in Roman alphabetical order of their initial consonant, regardless of its function. For example, Bka’ thang sde lnga is ordered under ‘b’ and Nyang-ral under ‘n’. The Tibetan ’a chung character is ignored as an initial consonant, such that ’O gnyen rabs is ordered under ‘o’. Wylie is not used on any of the eighteen maps in this work so they remain accessible to non-specialist readers. Wylie equivalents for relevant map names can be found in the Index placed in parentheses following phonetic forms, if not already in the main text at the point where specific maps are discussed. Words such as lama now commonly listed in standard, modern English dictionaries are not rendered in Wylie. Romanisations for all Old Tibetan documents cited herein follow those available at Old Tibetan Documents Online, as do catalogue references to manuscripts (e.g., IOL Tib J 734), unless otherwise stated in my Notes.

xiv

Some linguists and anthropologists dealing with TibetoBurman languages in Himalayan areas have opted to transcribe indigenous oral texts together with their informants/ consultants using what have been described as “linguistic best practices, rather than a local and indigenous method of transliteration” (e.g., Evans, Pettigrew, Yarjung Kromchaĩ Tamu and Turin 2009 on Gurung/Tamu written in Devanagari script). Other writers have proposed new transcription systems that ignore existing indigenous traditions of writing as reflected in large numbers of extant local manuscripts (e.g., Bodt 2012 for Dakpa written using Tibetan script). Such approaches are unsuitable for this study precisely because a well-established regional practice of using Tibetan script to record oral ritual texts in manuscript form existed at the time of my field research. I co-opted this practice to generate transcriptions of oral texts directly during fieldwork. This was undertaken together with literate native speakers of the languages concerned, and in consultation with those ritual specialists whose chants were recorded. The approach addresses several different concerns. My research effort included observing local practices of writing and text production, but also sought to respect them as the inherited custom and choice of my informants. Moreover, local forms of transcription were a living, developing tradition during the period of my field research, one upon which I did not want to impose any standardised system of my own. For example, some of my research subjects recently began transcribing oral ritual texts chanted in East Bodish languages and Tshangla using introduced modern scripts rather than the long established Tibetan orthography. I saw such ritual texts transcribed in manuscripts using Devanagari learned via Hindi medium school education in the Mon-yul Corridor, as well as texts being hybridised with the recently standardised form of Dzongkha promoted as an official medium within Bhutan. Proper names across the research region frequently have no stable written forms in Tibetan or Dzongkha script. Each name can represent an historical artefact or trace of alternative traditions of folk etymology, and reflect the degree of literacy of scribes, as well as influences from new languages, and so forth. For instance, the Kurtö toponym spoken

Note on Indigenous Te xts, Tr a nscr iption a nd Na m es

Dungkar is written Dung-mkhar (lit. ‘Dung Stronghold’) in a clan origin text recording settlement of an early migrant population, but is recorded by Buddhist authors as Dungdkar (lit. ‘White Conch’) to invoke an auspicious symbol for religiously interpreting and ‘branding’ landscape as a missionary act. Prioritising one form over the other, or adopting a standard form merely erases important cultural-historical information. For my own narrative in this work, I render those current toponyms and personal names I encountered daily within the research region into simple practical transcriptions. These aim, as much as possible, to match forms that are common in published modern sources (e.g., Dirang and Kuri). Where appropriate, I also preserve original spellings from each historical text under discussion using Wylie romanisation (e.g., ’Di-rang, rDi-rang or sDe-rang, and sKu-ri, Ku-ru or Ku-re, etc.). Rather than employing modern district names to describe all of far western Arunachal Pradesh, I adopted the colonial era usage Mon-yul Corridor since it conveniently summarises important social-historical and geographical information about that sub-region. For those hydronyms within the research region already ending in Tibeto-Burman words meaning ‘river’ or ‘lake’, I use lower case references (e.g., Khoma Chu river), with upper case references for other languages (e.g. Subansiri River). For transcriptions of Naxi language derived from publications by Joseph F. Rock I follow the system for converting Rock’s representation of tones introduced by Michael Oppitz and Elisabeth Hsu in Naxi and Moso Ethnography (1998), while the phonemic correspondences provided by Boyd Michailovsky and Alexis Michaud (2006) have been consulted to appreciate Rock’s records from western Naxi dialect speakers.

xv

I ntroduction

This book presents three new inquiries into little-known populations dwelling along the eastern Himalayan mountain ranges and adjacent margins of the high Tibetan Plateau. My central concern is with these highland peoples’ positive quest for life, namely their aim to achieve creation of new lives and a flourishing human existence for the living. I document how the communities I studied focus upon and express these goals through a particular cluster of shared cultural practices and ideas about the world. In the rural villages of eastern Bhutan and far western Arunachal Pradesh (India) that were sites for my field research, this domain of proactively striving to ensure fertility, virility, procreation and revitalisation is a ritualised one. Specialists generically called bon po perform rites termed bon to achieve these goals on behalf of their communities. When considered from the perspective of comparative ethnography, the bon po clearly represents a type of shaman. One can find such ‘bon’-identified cultural phenomena, and shamans, both separately and together in various areas throughout the eastern Himalayas and along the margins of the adjacent Tibetan Plateau. While bon and shamans continue to feature as important reference points in discussions of this wider region’s cultural life, connections drawn between the two remain controversial; some scholars have equated them, yet others argue attempts to link them are illegitimate. My second inquiry in this book critically reconsiders possible relationships between bon and shamans, and in so doing provides a new assessment of how ‘bon’-identified cultural phenomena can be understood in the study of Himalayan and Tibetan societies. Finally, the findings from my two main lines of inquiry support the third: Exploring new hypotheses on the ethnolinguistic 1 identities and prehistory of speakers of certain

language branches within the Tibeto-Burman phylum. I present empirical evidence of ancestral heritage shared between peoples of eastern Bhutan and adjacent western Arunachal Pradesh, and populations now called Qiang and Naxi dwelling some 800-1000 kilometres distant from them along the eastern margins of the Tibetan Plateau.

Ethnographic Documentation The first thorough documentation of a regional set of revitalisation festivals staged across eastern Bhutan and the adjacent Mon-yul Corridor area of far western Arunachal Pradesh is recorded in volume I. These calendric, communal events are the prime expression of a geographically diffuse yet socially and culturally coherent phenomenon I refer to as the Srid-pa’i lha (pronounced see-pay-lha) cult.2 The Srid-pa’i lha are ancestor-progenitor beings regarded as the source of life. I studied this cult because, at the time of my field research, it offered a rich and still widely practiced example of an eastern Himalayan people’s focus upon the goals of bringing new lives into being and cultivating a flourishing state for existing lives. These are purely mundane goals, and it would be easy to argue they are merely those found in all human life based upon a range of pragmatic, daily strategies for obtaining food, shelter and mates. While that is true in certain respects, ritualized activity such as Srid-pa’i lha worship distinguishes itself as a different order of intensive and proactive engagement towards those same ends. In practice, the cult entails its participants publically expressing and acting upon a range of positive aspirations for new life and desirable living in the exceptional context of festivals staged beyond the

1

Source of Life

space and time of quotidian routines. They do so while a bon shaman chants aloud the origin story of the universe and society, as well as aetiological narratives explaining the age-old problem of vitality’s contingency and bon rites for overcoming it. The Srid-pa’i lha are invited down from the sky world to revitalise their human descendants during such festivals. The general topic I am describing here is a principal domain of human concern, and thus eminently worthy of scientific inquiry. However, rites, myths and ritual specialists directly addressing issues of human fertility, virility, procreation and revitalisation have remained little studied within high Himalayan and nearby Tibetan Plateau contexts to date. The content of volume I is intended more as fundamental research, to establish a substantial resource with sufficient detail, contextualisation and reliability as a point of departure for further studies. The descriptive accounts in parts I-IV cover a series of individual revitalisation festivals dedicated to Srid-pa’i lha deities and the rites employed during them, the local communities who sponsor and participate in these events, the bon shamans who are the main ritual specialists involved, as well as the cosmology, myths and shared ideas about the world and its beings informing and expressing the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s practices. I also discuss a range of factors explaining why the cult of Srid-pa’i lha was in steep decline during the period I observed it between 2009 and 2014. My documentations are intentionally extensive and detailed, as well as occasionally being wideranging and comparative in relation to other ethnographic data from along the eastern Himalayas. At the time of my research and writing, there were compelling reasons for taking this approach. These are related in part to characteristics of the eastern Himalayan region itself, but also due to the state of scientific knowledge about it. The major axis for comparisons of my own data set with other published ethnographic, linguistic and less so historical reports throughout this book is what I refer to as the ‘extended eastern Himalayas’. This areal concept was proposed by Stuart Blackburn, then developed together with myself as a meaningful heuristic for explorative

2

comparison, rather than referring to any highly articulate or bounded ‘culture area’.3 It generally conforms to linguist George van Driem’s demarcation of the “Eastern Himalaya” in relation to what he calls the Trans-Himalayan (i.e. Tibeto-Burman or Sino-Tibetan) phylum and speakers of its languages: For ethnolinguistic phylogeography, the Kālī Ga ṇḍ akī [valley in western central Nepal] demarcates a vast region known as the Eastern Himalaya, which extends eastward all the way into the Indo-Burmese borderlands and the Chinese provinces of Yúnnán and Sìchuān and constitutes an area of pivotal importance to population prehistory.4 The most recent proposals for a Trans-Himalayan linguistic phylum, the world’s second largest in terms of number of native speakers, now locate its homeland along the eastern Himalayan ranges and adjacent areas.5 This same mountain region also coincides more or less exactly with the ethnographically attested distribution of those Himalayan ritual specialists comparatively classified by scholars as shamans, together with their rich traditions of narrative, rites and material culture. This coherent distribution of a cognate cultural pattern across a range of highland societies all speaking related languages is of central importance to the analysis in this book. In spite of the region’s high significance in all of the above terms, the social and cultural features of eastern Himalayan populations further east of Nepal and Sikkim have remained woefully under-researched. The causes for this are complex, although political and practical restrictions upon research access to the region have remained a major determining factor. Up until the time of writing, the dearth of high quality information on the region’s many different societies has prevailed throughout a period when powerful forces related to state-building, economic development and militarisation have transformed most aspects of local Himalayan life at a blinding pace. Concerning my topical focus of communal cults and rites intended to achieve mundane goals, there has been a striking paucity of reliable information for eastern Himalayan

Introduction

societies. At the time of writing, there were only two published monographic studies on this topic for a sweep of the extended eastern Himalayas extending from Sikkim across to north-west Yunnan, some 1000 kilometres from west to east, and spanning ten longitudinal degrees (88°98°E).6 For my own research region of eastern Bhutan and western Arunachal Pradesh, the handful of cursory reports about communal cults and rites so far available (reviewed in ch. 1) ref lect brief periods of observation or forms of second-hand reporting. Prior to my own project on Sridpa’i lha worship, no research effort had been based upon in-depth and long-term ethnographic field studies within individual communities, while rigorous consideration of indigenous oral and written ritual languages and literatures was non-existent.7 Parallel to this large lacuna, there are virtually no thorough investigations of community social organisation in the region across which the Srid-pa’i lha cult is spread, 8 while only two of the dozen languages spoken by Srid-pa’i lha cult participants, namely Kurtöp and Tshangla, have so far been systematically described.9 Furthermore, many existing studies of culture and society across my research region have been compromised by their insularity, or inappropriate terms of reference. Works dealing with Bhutan tend to treat it explicitly or implicitly as a special case based upon its national boundaries, or emphasise links back to the Tibetan Plateau to the north while generally ignoring strong continuities the area shares with other Himalayan zones further to the east and west. The central reference points many writers invoke to frame their researches are the imagined identities promoted by nation-building elites (e.g., the “Bhutanese”), or those ‘tribal’ labels imposed by external administrators on behalf of annexing or colonising states (e.g., the “Monpas”) and that have become highly politicised nowadays. This has tended to reinforce superficial regional clichés in the face of actual diversity and complexity observable on the ground. It has also frequently entailed a failure to articulate data with supra-regional patterns and cognates. To avoid this, my own approach in this study intentionally juxtaposes high levels of specificity about chosen field research sites and individual communities with comparative examples from other Himalayan regions.

‘Bon’-Identified Cultural Phenomena My second inquiry, that reconsidering the plethora of cultural phenomena called “bon” (a technical term) or “Bon” (a proper name) in various Himalayan highland and Tibetan Plateau societies, confronts a vast field of possibilities. Many scholars have already commented upon bon/Bon in both general and specific ways. My own focus concerns those local and regional traditions of rites, myths and ritual specialists that are designated as bon/Bon by the peoples who practice and maintain them as ‘insiders’, and which are directed towards achieving purely mundane goals relevant to life in the here and now. Existing studies of this topic area suggested two relationships requiring much deeper research: Mundane or pragmatically oriented bon cultural phenomena need to be critically understood in relation to both Himalayan shamans and the historical Tibetan salvation religion calling itself g.Yung-drung Bon. Research on all things bon/Bon that are not entirely within the scope of g.Yung-drung Bon religion has been languishing at an impasse of sorts. The accumulating of results using established approaches has neither led to any significant new horizons of knowledge, nor stimulated critical reassessment of premature claims that have become taken for granted.10 On the one hand, industrious scholars of past decades published translations or summaries of a whole range of Tibetan language myths and rite descriptions related to mundane goals. Despite the undoubted value of such studies in certain philological and comparative respects, the texts being offered have very limited explanatory potential. This is because, in almost every case, they come to us bereft of any living context of actual social practice, not to mention a frequent void of information on their geographical and historical provenance, or the agents who produced them. On the other hand, there are repeated claims by various scholars that the great variety of available records all somehow belong to a single and continuous “Bon tradition”, one spanning a great period of historical time and projected over a vast geographical space. Other scholars appear to tacitly accept these claims by labelling a great variety of rites and myths as belonging to “Bon” or being “Bonpo” without

3

Source of Life

any clear definition of what these labels are intended to mean within specific ethnographic or historical contexts, or from any explicit analytical perspective. The types of claims just mentioned remain untested and unchallenged, while the uncritical catch-all labelling continues in the most recent publications. In addition, published ethnographic records to date of what some call the “(lha) bon complex” or “village bon in the Tibetan borderlands”11 have, for whatever reasons, remained rather superficial and incomplete in many respects. Thus, thoroughgoing and reliable synchronic comparisons between contemporary ritual specialists and their ‘bon’-identified cultures across the wider region have not been particularly feasible. To move the study of ‘bon’-identified cultural phenomena forward on a different basis, the present work is informed by a large amount of empirical data gained directly within eastern Himalayan communities using qualitative research approaches. I investigated the role, import and language of ‘bon’-identified ritual texts and techniques as these are used to conduct living rites, as well as the characteristics of contemporary ritual specialists who employ, maintain and transmit them, and the types of local social groups who act as ritual sponsors, participants and intended beneficiaries of such activities. For the comparative exercises that I also undertake, the data employed are ethnographic and linguistic records of peoples from precisely known places and time periods. As far as use of indigenous literature is concerned, my basic premise is that the context in which we can place texts is just as important as their actual content. Apart from those texts I recorded within my Himalayan research region, for any primary analytical considerations I have elected to only use other written documents for which we have some degree of sound provenance information. In most cases, I further limit myself to using works whose origins and whose author/compiler’s roots can be traced back into the immediate geographical orbit of my research region. This methodological step thus excludes a great many Tibetan language documents that have become the stock-in-trade of almost all scholars dealing with the cultural history of ‘bon’-identified phenomena. Such sources mainly contain myths, historiography and hagiography

4

from premodern authors belonging to the Tibetan Buddhist and g.Yung-drung Bon salvation religions. I do make occasional reference to a few of these works for comparative purposes, but they have no status as primary evidence in my analyses. I discuss additional grounds for eschewing such sources in the Introduction to volume II, and in chapter 15.

Himalayan Shamans Himalayan shamans, their practices and the communities whom they serve have been extensively documented throughout highland Nepal and its peripheries for over half a century. Yet, shamans in Nepal are by no means representative of cognate phenomena further eastwards along the Himalayan ranges, and about which we currently have very few detailed and reliable published records.12 The study of bon shamans participating in the Srid-pa’i lha cult is thus significant in providing additional data from previously undocumented areas on the wider Himalayan regional phenomenon of shaman ritual specialists. Beyond that, it is also compelling because bon shamans themselves offer a vivid example of ‘text-reading shamans’,13 those who maintain a sophisticated written culture alongside the betterknown oral repertoire and techniques held to be a hallmark of other Himalayan and premodern Siberian shamans. We currently know little about text-reading shamans in the Himalayas, and my study records aspects of the living manuscript culture of bon shamans. Moreover, many earlier scholars of Tibetan and Himalayan societies had already claimed that an ancient or “pre-Buddhist” bon or Bon ritual culture was a form of “Shamanism”, or at very least “shamanic” in its fundamental character, while later scholars have argued against this connection.14 We can easily accept use of the label shaman and its adjectival form shamanic when this is empirically and transparently justified in the context of comparative ethnography, while the same labels might be applied to past phenomena in cases where rich historical accounts could support that. However, I reject the now widely disputed term Shamanism in relation to any of the data sets I draw upon in this work. Shamanism mostly projects a generalised, ahistorical reification arising out of

Introduction

specific intellectual genealogies in the social and cultural history of modern Western societies,15 while it has become an open invitation for haphazard attributions of very different phenomena around the world. Some past claims associating shamans and bon do appear potentially interesting, yet apart from simple citation of a few cognate traits none has ever been rigorously substantiated. Most claims in circulation are also problematic for being sweeping and unspecified as to the areas and social groups possibly concerned. They are often related to bogus historical explanations, as well as being populated by undefined or redundant ideas about what constitutes “bon” or “Bon”. My study of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its specialists is an attempt to readdress the question of bon and shamans while engaging with the problems just cited that others have perpetuated or avoided. It enables us to make significant advances towards the first cultural history of one tradition of Himalayan shamans. By employing older Tibetan language manuscripts recording myths and rites, and other documents originating in the same geographic zone where the Srid-pa’i lha cult is evident, the present study demonstrates that many aspects of contemporary bon shaman liturgies, techniques and material culture, as well as cosmological perspectives and cultural models, were present as local representations in the very same geographical zone up to a millennium before present. Historical soundings into the content of any Himalayan shaman tradition with this sort of time depth and degree of detail have not been possible until now. My analysis adopts a unit of ethnographic comparison András Höfer described in 1994 as an “inter-regional shamanic tradition-complex.” Höfer originally intended it to encompass a set of generally cognate Himalayan ritual specialists designated as shamans who had been documented between western Nepal and the Darjeeling Hills. He elaborated that, “[i]ts different local variants have obviously evolved from older tribal or regional traditions”.16 Höfer’s definition cited the then available studies – long since strongly reinforced by published anthropological research on Nepal – demonstrating that local variations of the shaman across this inter-regional shamanic tradition-complex

could be mapped more or less reasonably well upon coherent “ethnic groups” speaking related dialects and languages. The Kham Magar, Tamang and “Kiranti groups” figured among Höfer’s examples at the time, while in contemporary literature on the topic one also reads of Gurung shamans, as well as Rai shamans that are often further specified by subgroup identity, and so forth. Part of Höfer’s point about an inter-regional shamanic tradition-complex was the recognition that, although any one ethnic group and the type of shaman(s) it maintains may be internally variable and complex, this internal variation is never as great as that to be found between them and other neighbouring ethnolinguistic groupings featuring shamans further to the east or west along the mountain chain. This general principle of unity and diversity, acknowledging the phenomenon is always based upon a core of common traits expressed in a multitude of local variations that can be grouped into clusters, has emerged in other recent comparative studies of Himalayan shamans.17 I find Höfer’s idea of inter-regional shamanic tradition-complexes to be realistic and useful for thinking about and comparing ethnographically defined instances of shamans occurring along the extended eastern Himalayas much further to the east of Nepal. It can be meaningfully applied for instance, to those societies and communities I studied who speak East Bodish languages across eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor – together with some near neighbours they historically influenced. The same is true for the grouping of societies speaking various Tani languages throughout much of central Arunachal Pradesh, as well as for the cluster of peoples now commonly named Mishmi who speak several different languages still further east. By comparatively employing the accumulated fruits of Himalayan ethnography, it is now possible to more accurately place a specific shamanic tradition-complex within an even wider context of cultural and historical geography. Michael Oppitz, in his remarkable magnum opus Morphologie der Schamanentrommel (2013), recently demonstrated this approach based upon what he termed a “trans-Himalayan ethnography”. 18 Nicholas Allen and other scholars interested in narratives have also increasingly considered the possibility of a “Himalayan comparative mythology”.19 Using comparisons, we can demonstrate that bon shamans

5

Source of Life

and their ritual culture exist within a continuum of cognate shaman ritual specialists and practices maintained by specific Himalayan societies speaking Tibeto-Burman languages, but not by others. These societies are found along the mountain ranges between the Qiang and Naxi settlement regions within south-west China far to the east, and areas settled by populations including the western Tamang, the Gurung/Tamu and Kham Magar of western central Nepal far to the west. While my accounts in volume I draw attention to continuities, the exercises in volume II explore possible processes and agencies leading to the Srid-pa’i lha cult being part of this Himalayan continuum. Finally, a well-known feature of the anthropology of Himalayan shamans is frequent reference to records of premodern Siberian or North Asian shamans.20 These are intended to demonstrate and explore cognate features of shamans in different parts of Asia, while explicitly or implicitly raising questions about their distant relatedness. Indeed, the very notion that ‘shaman’ is a relevant reference for the Himalayas has always depended upon this process. While I, too, have considered such questions, they are well beyond my present scope in this work. However, when I have come across reports of Siberian or North Asian shaman practices that match data on the Srid-pa’i lha cult, I briefly signal this in my main text and give references in the notes, in case this may aid other scholars pursuing such interests.

Ethnolinguistic Origins of Srid-pa’i lha Worship In volume II, I pose and supply evidence in support of four hypotheses that concern possible origins and development of the cult of Srid-pa’i lha, as well as the identities of earlier social groups who maintained and transmitted it. The series of exploratory analyses in part V are based upon my studies of old manuscripts, as well as comparative use of the results in parts I-IV together with similar ethnographic data published by other scholars. The first two hypotheses set out in chapters 14 and 15, and partially in chapter 17, define the character of the cult as a self-identified form of ‘bon’, its historical relationship with other cognate, regional cultural phenomena, and the cult’s overlaps with the content of

6

contemporary Himalayan shamanic tradition-complexes. My findings demonstrate that core aspects of the contemporary Srid-pa’i lha cult are a transformed descendant of several older cultures of myths and rites dedicated to mundane concerns. This heritage first becomes strongly evident in eleventh century ritual texts recently discovered in parts of southernmost Central Tibet directly adjacent to the cult’s region of distribution. The third and fourth hypotheses, set out in chapters 16 through 18, identify two earlier populations who introduced and maintained the cult within its present zone of distribution. My data reveal those more proximate peoples associated with the cult’s origins, were once known to the Tibetans as the Dung or Shar Dung. They represent conservative remnants of very old social groups from the southernmost Tibetan Plateau and its Himalayan highland interface zone, and who migrated south into the research region during the mid1300s. My new investigations of the Shar Dung are a development from the pioneering historical studies by Michael Aris, Luciano Petech and John Ardussi. 21 The temporally and spatially more distant groups who can be identified with the cult are older populations once more widely diffused across the south-eastern Tibetan Plateau and along its margins, and who represent one of many components that constituted early eastern Himalayan highland and proto‘Tibetan’ populations. While they have no common name in our sources, for the purposes of this study I provisionally refer to them as the Mon clans. My data indicate that the old Mon clans must have shared some common ancestral heritage with earlier speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages.22 Societies that speak modern forms of these languages now dwell along the far western highlands of Sichuan and northwest Yunnan in China. My findings indicate that the ancestral speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages formerly had a more extensive, earlier settlement and dispersal across the south-eastern Tibetan Plateau and along its highland ecological frontiers than has previously been recognised. My own research into speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages was partly inspired by Rolf Stein’s earlier series of investigations into possible proto-Tibetan population components and identities that culminated in his Les tribus anciennes des marches sino-tibétaines (1961). Although

Introduction

my approach differs from Stein’s in many ways, and while we can no longer uncritically accept his resort to the generic “Qiang” identity from older Chinese historiography, my own findings herein often agree with and greatly augment his earlier results. Finally, it is worth pointing out that research to establish empirically based - as opposed to colonial and postcolonial ‘tribal’ - identifications of populations settled across the eastern Himalayas, and develop hypotheses concerning their ethnolinguistic prehistory, is now an expanding field of scientific inquiry. Almost all of the pioneering and current research in this field has been undertaken by highly skilled linguists employing various reconstructions from contemporary data collected among the region’s many scriptless peoples, with some reference to early results on the population genetics of the region. All such research takes place against the background of a near complete absence of systematic archaeological data for the entire highland region between Bhutan and far northern Burma (Myanmar).23 In contrast to existing approaches, I base my findings upon indigenous documents and thorough ethnographic records of specific life domains used in a comparative manner. If anything, Source of Life demonstrates the need for as many different types of data as can be reliably marshalled to investigate current and earlier inhabitants of the eastern Himalayas. It also reveals that records of social and cultural lives, past and present, are always so much more complex than our models and hypotheses ever take into account.24 In addition to the aforementioned scope for this book, it generally affords a view of Himalayan highland communities that are strongly influenced by Tibetan Buddhism, but in which Buddhism has not been – and sometimes still is not – the single, dominant cultural inf luence. My own work thus belongs to a certain lineage of studies of Tibetan Buddhist societies pioneered by Rolf Stein’s attention to the diverse practices and ideas he termed the “nameless religion” and that all such societies appear to maintain. This lineage was most recently refreshed by Charles Ramble’s focus upon “civil religion” in highland communities of Nepal along the frontier with Tibet, and Anna Balikci’s reporting of the complex realities she termed “village religion in Sikkim”.25

Given the current state of research in my region of study, it seemed premature to extend the intellectual horizons of this work beyond the aims and scope I have just set out. Elaborate, reflexive ethnographies of individual Srid-pa’i lha festivals and worship communities, comparisons with other life-promoting practices existing in the same region (e.g., Buddhist rites for longevity and manipulating g.yang force, modern medical treatments, and so on), and more intensive theoretical engagements with the data will all certainly be useful future developments. But that will only be realistic once a much broader baseline of reliable social science information is available for eastern Bhutan, the Monyul Corridor and adjacent Himalayan regions.

Research Process I formally pursued research on Srid-pa’i lha worship from 2009, yet my inspirations and preparations for the whole project began during the late 1980s. At that time, I studied a major mountain cult located directly at the interface between the southernmost Central Tibetan Plateau and the eastern Himalayan highlands.26 Two very different societies both used and imagined that mountain landscape, although I could only capture the perspective of Tibetans to the north due to severe access restrictions then in force for the Arunachal Pradesh highlands to the south. From 2002 onwards, the first visits by outsiders to the southern flanks of this part of the Himalayas were officially permitted. I immediately went to the region and subsequently undertook thirty-five field research visits into the eastern Himalayas between 2002 and 2014, with active time spent living in local rural communities totalling three and a half years. The issues explored in Source of Life were informed by some of my research prior to 2009, namely that on shamanic tradition-complexes in the gorge country of the upper Subansiri River valley and in the Mishmi Hills. Data from that earlier research is included in the present study. In the Subansiri gorges, I observed yullo (also yallo or rialo) type festivals staged by speakers of western Tani languages, and during which nyibu shamans dispatched offerings to ancestors to gain worldly benefits for ritual sponsors.27 As Stuart Blackburn’s exemplary study The Sun Rises (2010) demonstrated

7

Source of Life

for the Murung festival in nearby Apatani society, all these events are more closely related to the ‘feasts of merit’ celebrated by highland peoples further to the southeast in the Naga Hills and Burma. After attending my first Srid-pa’i lha festivals, I realised they represented an altogether different type of eastern Himalayan phenomenon. The present work is a result of trying to understand that difference and its wider implications. The bulk of data informing this book was collected in situ during a total of seventeen months of full-time field research in Himalayan rural communities between 2009 and 2014. Fieldwork in far western Arunachal Pradesh was conducted in selected villages of the Dirang Circle of West Kameng District and in the Tawang District. Fieldwork in eastern Bhutan took place at village sites within the Lhuntse, Mongar, Tashiyangtse and Zhemgang Dzongkhags (‘administrative districts’), with additional visits to Bumthang and Trongsa Dzongkhags. Due to positive cooperation with the Centre for Bhutan Studies (Thimphu), and the State Government of Arunachal Pradesh (Itanagar), I enjoyed unrestricted access to all chosen field research sites and informants or consultants for the duration of the project.

attended them, but especially their very rich narrative component in the form of often obscure ritual languages, represented an enormous research challenge. Thus, unlike field studies of longer duration in single communities or areas, deep investigation of many aspects of social and cultural life beyond their implication within the ambit of the Srid-pa’i lha cult proved unrealistic in relation to my approach. For documenting week-long festivals, I occasionally co-opted several talented colleagues to assist me recording details, and they are mentioned in the Acknowledgements. I also often used small digital video cameras and sound recorders to enable additional reviewing of ritual actions and orations afterwards, both by myself and together with local informants or consultants. Multiple follow-up visits to these field study sites employed interviewing, frequently together with photo- and video-elicitation, to clarify details. From among ten selected field study sites sampled across the region over four years, I chose to fully describe four festivals and worship communities herein, with the selection explained in the Introduction to part IV. Elsewhere throughout the main text, Notes and Appendices, I present aspects of other festivals and communities recorded at the remaining study sites, so as to illustrate or expand upon various topics.

An exploratory research phase between 2007 and 2010 revealed a widespread and sophisticated regional phenomenon about which virtually nothing was known. I considered this could never be successfully documented and understood by relying upon the classic, in-depth study of a single community or locality, and opted instead for a combination of approaches. These included an on-going survey of as many sites as could be meaningfully visited to map the actual distribution and variation of Srid-pa’i lha cult practices, and the ritual specialists and worship communities participating in the cult. This was combined with a series of in-depth studies using qualitative methods at selected field sites. My goal was observation and documentation of a series of major calendric festivals dedicated to the Sridpa’i lha in which I was able to participate. This also set limits upon what types of high quality outcomes I was able to achieve with my resources. The complexity and duration of most festivals I sampled, together with everything that

Since the Srid-pa’i lha cult is a highly literate phenomenon, other research methods were dedicated to collecting oral and written ritual texts. I employed digital photography to copy around one hundred unique manuscripts used by bon shamans within the cult. To my knowledge, this represented the majority of the cult’s manuscripts still extant at that time. I read this entire corpus and analysed it philologically and linguistically. I also observed and recorded performances of chanted oral versions of a variety of these written ritual texts together with the rites they inform. Throughout this study, I present editions and translations of a wide selection of bon shaman narratives and chants from the oral recordings and written manuscripts I collected. The translations from written manuscripts are all entirely my own work. The single exception is the hybrid Dzala and Classical Tibetan narrative titled Lha’i gsung rabs presented in chapter 16 and appendix K. For that text, native Dzala speaker Dorji Gyaltsen assisted me to generate a preliminary draft

8

Introduction

in consultation with local bon shamans and knowledgeable elders from Khoma Chu valley communities. Dorji also collected much of the vocabulary of Dzala based cryptolect words in appendix F, although all analysis of entries therein is my own work. When bon shamans and others acted extensively as consultants when transcribing an oral text, they are acknowledged in the notes for the transcription or edition. Justification for my co-option of the existing indigenous practice of transcribing bon shaman oral texts chanted in local languages using the Tibetan orthography is discussed in the Note on Indigenous Texts, Transcriptions and Names. Thanks to intensive consultation with bon shamans, their assistants and ritual sponsors, and rigorous comparisons within the existing manuscript corpus they use across the research region, I am confident the resulting ‘indigenous transcriptions’ faithfully represent the wording and meaning of the original oral ritual texts. During my research, I also recorded many oral narratives about social history in Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. I elected to exclude from consideration any of this material pertaining to time periods beyond the scope of my informants’ direct eyewitness experiences and living memory. In several instances, oral information extending back some three generations – ca. seventy or eighty years – prior to the time of recording has been cited, but only because it could be confirmed and cross-checked using multiple, independently reported narratives and local written documents. Furthermore, the many oral narratives concerning origins and migrations I recorded are also consciously excluded from my data set. Modern spoken narratives of origins and migrations – particularly those elicited for recording by researchers – are among the most problematic sources for study of the eastern Himalayas, although this point has been ignored in most writings about the region. 28 While such narratives can be used as rich sources about the present-day identities, values and rhetorical styles of their narrators and the circumstances under which they are told, they cannot offer evidence about any past beyond living experience and memory. The only exceptions are when their contents can be correlated with historical documents or archaeological and other reliable empirical evidence,

or subject to comparative typological analysis. This latter approach is only available when the entire narrative field within which individual stories exist is also accessible and understood. The single occurrence of this I allowed in my analysis appears in chapter 11, where it was possible to begin treating two short oral origin narratives in this manner. The most significant challenge for my approach in this study was the sheer range of indigenous spoken languages used by my research subjects. Although I comprehend standard Dzongkha as taught in schools, and eventually acquired a sound working knowledge of Dzala, this was nowhere near the ideal level of fluency required, nor did I understand Tshangla beyond elementary exchanges about mundane topics. I therefore employed two full-time local translators for parts of the research and worked almost exclusively with them over the entire period of the project. They were Dorji Gyaltsen (Thimphu) for Dzala, Dakpa and to a lesser extent Kurtöp, and Sangye Tsering (Dirang) for Dirang Tshangla. Without their skilled input and patient instruction, the sheer breadth of oral material sampled in this research would not have been possible. Dorji’s mother tongue is Dzala (lower Khoma Chu valley dialect), while he grew up with Kurtöp speaking migrants in his natal village area and has Dakpa speaking kinsmen and friends. Sangye’s mother tongue is Dirang Tshangla, and due to graduate studies in New Delhi he is fluent in both Hindi and English. When working with Chocha-ngacha and Khengkha speakers, Dzongkha was often used as a research medium since I could more easily follow it. Dorji had knowledge of religious literary Tibetan gained within a formal Buddhist monastic curriculum, while Sangye had no knowledge of Tibetan. Thus, I dealt exclusively with all the Tibetan language materials. Oral ritual chants and open-ended interviews in East Bodish languages and Tshangla were digitally recorded and initially reviewed by us together in outline, and only then fully transcribed when deemed important. Any relevant material was jointly translated in fine detail, and ambiguous or unintelligible content was double checked with the speakers themselves, as well as with other indigenous consultants.29 For certain issues, I also consulted several European and North American linguists who have become the

9

Source of Life

first persons to undertake in-depth research on languages within the region. Their contributions are cited in the Notes and the Acknowledgements. Ultimately, any shortcomings or inadvertent errors in the treatment of indigenous language sources herein remain my responsibility. Finally, it is worth noting that ethnographic accounts nearly always depend upon diverse types of records of human life, and in the present case my documentation includes many photographic images. The original images are of highly variable quality. Some were copied from old and damaged prints on dusty window ledges within my informants’ mountain homes, with others exhumed from neglected archival collections, or photographed by myself under technically challenging field research conditions. Those I reproduce herein were not chosen to satisfy some aesthetic criteria, but purely for the evidence and unique record they communicate of what has already ceased to be done or is likely to disappear in the near future.

10

Pa rt I

Or i entations

1.

1.1

Ov erv i e w of th e Sr id-pa’i lh a Cu lt

A Diffuse Yet Coherent Non-Religious Phenomenon

The object of this study, a social and cultural phenomenon I generically term the Srid-pa’i lha cult, is focussed upon a tangible and perennial preoccupation of communities of Himalayan subsistence farmers: maintaining viability for themselves and their most important animals in the face of the fundamental precariousness of life. Until very recently, none of the communities I studied enjoyed any highly effective or enduring buffer against threats to both individual and community life caused by disease, accidents, famine or natural disasters, nor could they access modern technologies and resources for ensuring fertility, positive natality and longevity of the kinds many other societies now take for granted. To try and ensure positive outcomes for life, participants in the Srid-pa’i lha cult have the express goal of achieving periodic revitalisation for themselves, their kin groups and communities, as well as for the animals they depend upon. In this context, revitalisation is to be understood quite literally following its dictionary definition as ‘to imbue with new life and vitality’. Participants in the cult aspire to revitalisation specifically in terms of their fertility, virility and even fecundity, but also more generally for overall physical well-being and the material success that both supports and reflects it. The rite techniques used in the cult are intended to directly imbue the bodies of participants with these vital powers. A specific language of life, vitality and revitalisation occurs in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and that will be explored in relation to ethnographic data and ritual texts in subsequent sections and chapters.

The technical term ‘cult’ I employ is intended to convey the exclusive focus by all communities I studied upon both the overall goal of revitalisation and the non-human or divine ancestral beings classed as Srid-pa’i lha whose worship is believed to enable that goal. Thus, cult herein represents a heuristic, one I find useful and convenient for capturing shared attitudes and behaviours dedicated to a well-defined domain. However, cult used in this study has no empirical reality in terms of representing a greater phenomenon involving formal membership, extensive organisation transcending individual localities, strong collective identity, and so forth across the research region. Participation in the cult is an ancestral practice inherited by fact of birth within certain kin groups only. These groups became geographically widespread due to historical migration. While unconnected participants in different parts of the research region had mutual recognition that what they were all doing was essentially the same form of practice, they had no need or desire to articulate that with any common, overarching identity. Certain shared vocabulary, especially bon, or the common names of ancestral or progenitor beings, such as Gurzhe and ’O-de Gung-rgyal, and cognate sets of rite techniques and myths exist as widespread reference points to loosely define the cult. Thus, this study deals with what is best described as a diffuse yet coherent social and cultural phenomenon. It is one lacking in any institutionalised form beyond single worship communities that manifest at the level of rural villages and settlement clusters, or as co-resident agnatic and clan groups within them. Scholarly writings about Himalayan and Tibetan Plateau societies already offer a range of expressions to characterise

13

Source of Life

the types of rites and goals that are central to the practice of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Scholars writing in European languages have appealed either to ‘magic’ or a ‘secular’ versus ‘religious’ dichotomy to address such phenomena. One reads of “everyday rituals” as manifestations of “secular beliefs”, “magical rites” or “magical rituals”, and a “nameless religion” or “folk religion” and “pagan rituals”, amongst other descriptions. 1 Tibetan authors have used terms like gzhung ‘lore’ and thabs ‘method’, as well as the ubiquitous but taken-for-granted – or, at best, ill-defined – bon which, as we will see below, can signify a host of different things.2 Ultimately, none of these expressions are entirely adequate to describe rites encompassed by the cult, nor those practices recorded in the much older ritual texts from which the cult’s content is derived. I thus introduce the new expression ‘rites for mundane goals’ or shorter ‘mundane rites’ to describe the cult and cognate phenomena. This is intended as a general characterisation for practices related to human concerns and goals of earthly existence in the here and now, and the very proximate future. The expression ‘rites for mundane goals’ also has a significant advantage when applied to the oldest known ritual texts in Tibetan languages so far recovered from Dunhuang and gTam-shul: it is purely descriptive of their known content while remaining neutral in relation to any social contexts, movements and traditions related to their existence and use that currently remain unknown to us. All such ‘mundane rites’, past and present, lack any reference to or association with soteriological claims or ‘ultimate’ horizons for human existence. Particularly in this latter sense, rites for mundane goals must be considered as non-religious in the contexts I am investigating. Defining the Srid-pa’i lha cult as the practice of rites for mundane goals that are non-religious implies a reference definition of ‘religion’. Scholarly use of that term is often either so vague or taken-for-granted as to be analytically meaningless, or it is fetishised to the extent that it cannot be used without an edifice of qualification. The latter process itself has generated a plethora of competing definitions of ‘religion’. In drawing a distinction between the nonreligious and religious herein, my primary concern is with realities observable on the ground in my research region

14

and how best to comparatively discuss them. I am not aiming to establish a universally valid terminology. One reality along the Himalayan highlands, and upon the Tibetan Plateau, is that the Srid-pa’i lha cult and a range of roughly cognate cultural phenomena often coexist together with Tibetan Buddhism and less so g.Yung-drung Bon. In my understanding of what constitutes ‘religion’ in that region, both Tibetan Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon fully qualify. Viewed from outside, one can observe they are highly institutionalised, engage in pan-regional missionary conversion, promote sophisticated ideals of human perfection, preach universal salvation, actively seek to monopolise economic sponsorship and political patronage wherever they occur, and emphasise unique collective identities. All of these same features are also evident in a wealth of historical records from the same region. Since the cult, past and present, shares none of these features, in context it represents a completely non-religious phenomenon. Viewed in terms of self-definition, the cult of Srid-pa’i lha also maintains a highly different discourse about time and what that entails compared with the two Tibetan salvation religions. For example, conventional chronological markers constructing any ‘history’ for the cult are never rhetorically invoked within it, and thus no founder figures are claimed within any fixed ‘historical’ framework. Rather, origins are construed in terms of the ‘beginning’ and the generic ‘past’ in aetiological myths, and related seamlessly to an open-ended ‘present’ always defined by the specific timeframe of any public narration of the myths. These narratives explain the Srid-pa’i lha beings as apical ancestors, recount the first instances of rites dedicated to them for obtaining new life and then maintaining it, as well as identify the primordial ritual specialists who once acted as ‘initiators’ of the use of such rites. Compared with this, the two Tibetan salvation religions have always advanced central, self-defining claims of origins and development based upon fixed dates and founder figures, each within their own highly elaborated historiographical traditions. Moreover, while the cult has an immediate present and very proximate future temporal framework for the solutions to problems it offers, Tibetan salvation religions work with a potentially limitless future horizon for attaining human

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

salvation, and a causal theory that defers the major consequences of action into an individual’s post-mortem state of existence in subsequent rebirths. For all the above reasons, ‘religion’ and ‘tradition’ fail to do justice to the cult’s characteristics. If anything, the features of the cult resonate more strongly with Maurice Bloch’s notion of the “transcendental social” as an alternative approach to “religion”.3 Bloch emphasised the centrality of continuities and relations between human communities and the ancestral component they ritually acknowledge and exchange with. Jonathan Z. Smith once defined what he termed “domestic religion” as pre-eminently “concerned with the endurance of the family as a social and biological entity, as a community, as well as with the relations of that community to its wider social and natural environs.”4 If we ignore Smith’s explicit reference to ‘religion’ here, his definition is also somewhat applicable to the Srid-pa’i lha cult. There are other specific reasons for carefully defining the Srid-pa’i lha cult as non-religious in relation to both the Tibetan salvation religions. Early on during the development of both religions, their agents subsumed – initially, at least, in terms of borrowing vocabulary, often somewhat later (or never) in practice – various regional and localised rites for mundane goals within their orthodox, hierarchical systems. In the case of g.Yung-drung Bon, this has long been strikingly obvious due to our ability to compare the claimed ‘original’ content of that religion with the earlier evidence of myths, rites and terminology in the Old Tibetan corpus, and more recently with the content of the old dGa’-thang manuscripts from gTam-shul. The absorption of localised traditions of rites for mundane goals by these two developed, historical religions served to establish their cosmological dominance and monopolies over ritual practice. This in turn helped to promote, via a whole range of missionary and conversion strategies, monopolies over sponsorship and political influence for the specialist practitioners of both religions, notably the virtuoso type of specialist known as the lama. The distinction ‘rites for mundane goals’ I elaborated above becomes crucial here. The historical incorporation of such rites within organised religious frameworks has always seen them articulated directly with

orthodox, totalising soteriological programs. This incorporation was invariably hierarchical. It consigned rites for mundane goals to each religion’s lowest stages of cultivation towards ultimate goals of human salvation. An example of this is the bon theg pa rim dgu scheme featuring in g.Yungdrung Bon. At the same time, it casts rites for mundane goals as reflecting the more unrefined degrees along a scale of possible perceptions of, and engagements with, reality, a scale that culminated in the ultimate religious goal. For instance, we find this expressed in applications of the ‘two truths’ (bden pa nyis) theory of Tibetan Buddhism. The practical outcomes of incorporation of rites for mundane goals within organised Tibetan Buddhist and g.Yung-drung Bon religions are now well known to scholarship. They proved to be mutually transformative of both these organised religions, as well as of many local, nonreligious cultural phenomena and the types of ritual specialists engaged with them. One significant feature of the Srid-pa’i lha cult is that its existence as a form of mundane rites with its own dedicated specialists has remained parallel to both these regionally present salvation religions, with very few traces of influence from either of them being apparent. My data reveal at least two main reasons why this parallel co-existence has occurred and is many centuries old. The cult’s primary goals encompass human and animal fertility, virility, the successful conceptions and births of new living beings, along with the positive promotion of sexuality and reproduction. These themes have no priority whatsoever in the soteriology of Tibetan Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon. Indeed, they stand in direct contradiction to the male institutions of renunciation at the core of these two organised religions. At best, in the few cases where they do feature, such as in tantric symbolism and practice, and in the hagiographies of wandering yogin-style specialists identified with tantra, we find sexuality and reproduction are shrouded in ambivalence and special justifications, or articulated with often humorous challenges to orthodoxy, such as in the traditions about ’Brug-pa Kun-legs in Bhutan.5 Thus, we might think of the cult’s specialisation on organic life and its (re) production in the aforementioned dimensions as the mundane arena least likely to attract the attention of lamas and

15

Source of Life

monks. By comparison, death has always been a priority arena of appropriation for the same type of clerics in these two religions, but only because death is central to their closely related soteriological systems. A second reason for the cult’s long and continued existence free from religious influence is that the universalistic cosmologies and philosophical underpinnings of both these Tibetan religions cannot accommodate the cult’s central ideas. One such incommensurable feature is that the cult is hereditarily exclusive, being focussed upon the existence of unique divine ancestors identified with specific human descent groups and their members. Thus, the cult can never be articulated with universal claims. Another misfit feature is the cult’s central ontological concept of an enduring vitality principle or ‘soul’. This vitality principle is not only both mobile and able to transit the boundary between life and afterlife while remaining intact, but also divisible and thus potentially shared and transmitted between ancestors and their descendants. These ideas all violate the central precept espoused by both Tibetan religions, that all of existence is essentially impermanent, and thus non-enduring through time and space and between individual lives. The historical incorporation of rites for mundane goals within the two regional salvation religions has also entailed a legacy for academic scholarship on g.Yung-drung Bon, as well as whatever has been labelled “Bon” more generally. One long-standing assumption in published studies is that many locally observed rites for mundane goals which are somehow associated with the name “Bon” must be descended from g.Yung-drung Bon, or represent heterodox offshoots or developments of that religion. In the same vein, various scholars have continued to invoke a generalised “Bon tradition” or “Bon religion” which implicitly encompasses quite different cultural and religious phenomena across time and space.6 At very least, such positions are premature and misleading, because we still understand far too little about the possible relationships – or lack of them – between local or regional traditions of rites for mundane goals and Tibetan salvation religions. One aim of this study is to demonstrate that the types of assumptions and statements just described are untenable and should be

16

abandoned, unless they can be confirmed with evidence and analysis based upon valid methods.

1.2

Ancestor Propitiation for Revitalisation of Descent Groups

While the Srid-pa’i lha cult can be observed as a diffuse, contemporary phenomenon on the ground, it is also true that rites addressed to these deities for revitalisation all draw upon a common pool of quite specific and much older cultural resources. Throughout this study, I will demonstrate that this common pool of resources has been in circulation throughout the research region and immediately adjacent areas for the best part of a millennium. Based upon this background, a shared cluster of reference points almost always occurs together with each manifestation of the cult. Conversely, these are not present in other practice contexts within the same communities and region. My working definition of Srid-pa’i lha worship is thus based upon this cluster of reference points as consistently observed and recorded during field research, as well as their representation in oral and written ritual texts used by participants in the cult: 1. A vertically oriented cosmology focussed upon a separate ‘sky world’ above the earth, composed of multiple, stratified levels. 2. Progenitor-ancestor beings classified as lha and Srid-pa’i lha (more rarely Phy[w]a) as the principal focus of rites, who must be invited to temporarily descend from their sky world for worship. 3. A set of cognate ‘ritual antecedent narratives’ (rabs)7 that must be chanted for the rites they circumscribe to be considered efficacious, and which are mostly recorded as written texts in manuscripts alongside remembered oral versions. 4. Rites ideally conducted and overseen by hereditary ritual specialists (my ‘bon shamans’) who are further qualified by observance of specific restrictions and rules of conduct, as well as their capacity for accurate chanting of ritual antecedent narratives. 5. Worship for the goal of revitalisation of human existence during the present time and proximate future, with a focus

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

on acquisition of life-generating powers from beings in the sky world. These are primarily articulated as patrilineal fecundity and vitality associated with men, and a quintessential (re)productive potency of women and livestock, plus the continued vitality and availability of wild game animals and fish. 6. Worship of Srid-pa’i lha occurs primarily in the form of communal, calendric festivals,8 the timing and frequency of which varies by area. 7. Primary sponsors and ceremonial groups in festivals are defined by membership of social units claiming common descent, including clans and lineages, agnatic groups or natal households. 8. Principal sites of ritual activity include sacred groves just beyond the precincts of human settlement, and two locations within the dwelling houses of hereditary ritual sponsors and specialists – the main hearth place and the attic. There are of course variations upon, and exceptions to certain of these reference points, and many of their nuances will be described in parts II-IV. Other very widespread, shared reference points, such as the centrality of birds and bird-symbolism, are not emphasised in the above list. This is because, at many sites, they feature only in myths or in interpretive remarks made by participants, and are not necessarily externally expressed as empirically observable features of actual practice of rites. Taken together, both these more overt and less conspicuous features amount to a welldefined cultural pattern across the research region, one I would generally define as ‘ancestor propitiation for revitalisation of descent groups’. Given the known regional subsistence economy prevailing across the eastern Himalayan highlands during the past and still at the time of my research, it will appear unusual that life sustaining agricultural production is not included within the scope of the cult’s revitalisation goals. This requires some explanation. Reference to agriculture does occur, but only as an epiphenomenon in certain worship communities located mainly in southern areas of the cult’s distribution region (map 1). The omission of or marginal status accorded to cultivation relates directly to both the

cult’s cosmology and its earlier origins. All Srid-pa’i lha rites and narratives entail a certain definition of ‘life’. This places emphasis upon the transfer of procreative powers and vitality exclusively between embodied beings possessing a mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’ who are ancestral deities and their human descendants, and by extension the latter’s mainly bovine livestock. A set of rites aimed at ensuring multiplication of game animals and fish and harvesting access to them are also incorporated into the cult. Thus, plant life does not figure here at all. Moreover, a major historical stratum of the cult’s origins is to be found in ancestral societies of pastoralists and wild harvesters, and not the sedentary cultivators their descendants later developed into. I investigate this background extensively in volume II. Furthermore, across the Dzala and Dakpa language zone in which the Srid-pa’i lha cult is present, and one that we can demonstrate as representing the oldest core of communities within the region who maintain the cult, there does exist a dedicated, calendric rite of revitalisation related to the swidden cultivation of millet. This sub-regional phenomenon named kengpa, which I have described in a separate study,9 is based upon naked male performers who wield large wooden phalluses and mimic all steps in the millet production cycle. The kengpa rites share some features with Srid-pa’i lha rites, and perhaps they have common origins. While kengpa rites have become partially assimilated to village Buddhism, and increasingly discontinued in an autonomous form during the modern era, they probably once served the needs of communities more dependent upon cultivation parallel to the ritual revitalisation of embodied human and animal life represented by the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The naked kengpa rites also resemble many festivals to worship the Srid-pa’i lha, in that all include public performances related to human and animal sexuality and procreation. Full nudity, sexual gestures and explicit songs about sex or mimicking of copulation in public are normative social prohibitions in all communities participating in the cult. Their occurrence during these communal rites always represents an exceptional inversion of such norms. For this reason, participants often consciously described the main days of any cult festival as being a special period ‘without

17

Source of Life

shame’ (ngötsha mey). This attitude epitomises what I find to be a central purpose of the cult: the social validation of procreation, and its acknowledgement as one essential source of life.

domain as autonym users but who are, for example, nativists promoting certain traditions, or competitors and opponents seeking to redefine traditions for their own rhetorical ends. Finally, it is an analytical category applied by ‘outsiders’ such as Western scholars.

1.3

To highlight the above distinctions throughout the book, I resort to the generic term ‘bon’-identified when discussing different instances of phenomena across space and time that have been called bon/Bon, and which appear to be related. I adopt Rolf Stein’s graphic distinction of lower case, italicised bon contrasted with Bon, but extend it beyond his intended usage of “bon and bon po in italics when it concerns the Dunhuang manuscripts and in Roman (Bon and bon po) for the [g.Yung-drung Bon] religious system and its adherents of the later era.”13 Under ‘bon’-identified I include cultural phenomena and their traces for which we can demonstrate – although not (yet) always understand the basis for – some degree of ethnographic relationship and historical transmission, and that can be characterised as purely concerned with mundane goals according to my definition above. Examples across time and space could include the non-Buddhist rites and myths recorded in Old Tibetan manuscripts discovered at Dunhuang, similar rites and myths in the old dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che manuscripts (see below) from southernmost Central Tibet, the Srid-pa’i lha cult studied in this book, the Naxi dtô-mbà tradition as it is expressed in pictographic manuscripts and rites, and perhaps also the contemporary tradition of le’u pa ritual specialists in the far eastern Tibetan Plateau region of Tewo who use rites and myths in the Gnyan ’bum collection outside of the formal scope of g.Yung-drung Bon. A host of ethnographically cognate examples fit within what Geoffrey Samuel recently labelled the “(lha) bon complex” or “village bon in the Tibetan borderlands”. 14 Beyond being convenient for making certain types of comparative statements, my calling something ‘bon’-identified using scare quotes should also draw attention to the agency and intent of such labelling, and raise questions about whether bon/Bon is the only or best justified identity for what is being considered. My convention is also a way of avoiding various labels others have resorted to for designating the same type of phenomena, including ‘indigenous religion’, ‘non-Buddhist

Terms of Reference

The recurrent Tibetan terms bon, lha and rabs employed to discuss the Srid-pa’i lha cult throughout this book are well known from research into society, culture and religion within the Himalayan highlands and Tibetan Plateau region which encompass what some scholars have begun to usefully refer to as the Tibetosphere. 10 However, the meanings of bon, lha and rabs in the living context of the cult deviate from what is now familiar or even taken for granted about them in current scholarship, and my application of these terms herein takes close account of my own fieldwork data. Moreover, the important category Srid-pa’i lha will be known to but a few specialist scholars, while my general expression bon shaman to describe the type of ritual specialists performing in the cult may appear counterintuitive given the recent history of scholarship on Tibetan religions. 11 Thus, these key terms of reference are brief ly introduced here.

Bon and its Meanings Use of the single word bon or Bon to describe highly diverse forms of ritual activity, specialist practitioners, textual narratives, religious institutions and social identities across epochs of historical time and vast tracts of geographical space is well known in Tibetan and Himalayan studies and regularly revisited, while the word is nuanced or even avoided by using alternatives. 12 Beyond the spelling of the word itself, the many usages of bon/Bon we find only share one feature in common: they always represent identity claims. We are thus methodologically obliged to distinguish between bon/Bon used in three ways. It is an autonym used by agents defining themselves and their own practices as ‘insiders’. It can be a claim made on behalf of or about others by agents within the same social and historical

18

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

ritual practices’, ‘folk religion’, ‘nameless religion’, and so on, which gloss over or strategically elide bon/Bon identities. In one respect or another, the existing labels are deficient, somewhat inappropriate or misleading, or include assumptions not so far borne out by empirical evidence. Like my usage ‘cult’ herein, ‘bon’-identified is intended as a heuristic for the purposes of my descriptive and analytical project herein. It represents an explorative and critical point of reference rather than any fixed claim. Research into whatever has been called Bon in my fieldwork region of the eastern Himalayas also requires a keen awareness of distortions in the available sources. There are deeply ingrained religio-cultural prejudices or blind spots concerning “Bon” among educated, indigenous writers. This has often led to the significance of anything called Bon being either ignored or easily dismissed in otherwise long and detailed works about the region authored by such persons.15 Moreover, broad generalisations about Bon referents have already been made on behalf of generic “Bhutanese” and “Monpa” populations by both indigenous and outside observers, albeit before most parts of this highly complex Himalayan region were subject to any systematic field research. Such reports proved to be of little or no relevance for the present study. The following meanings for bon are those ethnographically attested in my research data on the Srid-pa’i lha cult: 1. In many oral and written ritual texts, we find bon occurring as a substantive with the meaning ‘rite’. A bon is something one does, most often referring to a procedure or sequence of actions performed by ritual specialists. Rites termed bon invariably involve chanting or other speech acts, along with any additional actions and non-semantic utterances the procedure entails. Thus, bon defining ‘rite’ always implies the audible sound of the ritual specialist’s voice, but can also occasionally include instances of nonaudible, internalised mental recitation. In many local ritual texts this is made explicit. A typical example is, ‘Offer the melody of the rite with a sweet voice’ (gsung snyan bon gyi sgra dbyangs mchod). Bon is frequently the object of the two verbs gyer (also dgyer ba) ‘to chant/intone’, and gsung ‘to voice/say’.16 The compound variant lhabon (and its dialect

variant habon) is used at a range of sites and attested in the texts as written lha bon with the meaning ‘lha rite’. The same bon meaning is found in a whole variety of texts recording mundane rites conducted by autonomous ritual specialists, that is, those lacking any position within organised religions. For example, an old manuscript narrating a myth and concomitant rite for overcoming sri demons who cause infant deaths, and in which the ritual specialist invokes a deity named Bung-ba sTag-chung, begins with the words ‘This rite (bon) invokes the gsas [against] the sri. Salutations to Bung-ba sTag-chung!’ (bon ’di ni sri gsas bdar ba / bung ba stag chung la phyag ’tshal lo).17 This technical meaning of bon is frequently overlooked in translations of texts that contain no evidence of formal connections with g.Yung-drung Bon, and is instead glossed with other meanings for bon adopted from that organised religion. Due to its synchronic and diachronic comparative significance, bon as ‘rite’ is the most important meaning occurring in data on the Srid-pa’i lha cult. This meaning is attested both ethnographically in nearby regions of the eastern Himalayas, and in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan documents and early Classical Tibetan sources.18 2. Written bon or bon po occurs as a noun designating three types of beings, although the ontological boundaries between all such beings are often ambivalent. A bon [po] can be: a) a primordial ritual specialist in a myth; b) an auxiliary being who supports and assists a human ritual specialist; c) a living human ritual specialist who might also regard beings of types a) and b) as his own ancestors and models. If the word is used to speak of actual human ritual specialists, then bon alone is rarely used, with the nominalised spoken form bonpo being most common. Such bon terms designating these three related types of beings are neither universal nor necessary in every context. A wide range of alternative, non-bon terms and names can also designate these same three types of beings, and that are employed in localised contexts and found in certain manuscript collections. Some examples include mtshe mi, gshen, sku gshen or gsas, and they will be discussed in context throughout the book. 3. Bon – perhaps here better capitalised in plain text – is used in colloquial speech among my informants as a category name describing an activity or event, for instance an annual festival, in the same blanket manner as it also may

19

Source of Life

designate many types of local rites across the wider region. However, the shades of meaning and exact intention of calling something ‘Bon’ are highly dependent upon context and speaker, and failure to take account of this invariably leads to the types of ambiguities and misunderstandings that populate the published literature. When an actual participant in a Srid-pa’i lha worship festival names it as ‘Bon’, we can certainly translate this as meaning ‘The Rites’ in line with the ritual vocabulary discussed in 1 above. In fact, within Srid-pa’i lha worship communities there is usually little or no unelicited use for this generic category name. As we will see in the documentations in part IV, nearly all the individual worship communities have their own local names for their festivals, only very few of which contain the word Bon. Similarly, spoken or written use of the formal compound bon chos, which is cited and discussed in existing literature on the region, 19 was never recorded in any Srid-pa’i lha worship communities I directly sampled. However, I did find the expressions bonchö, bon chölu, bonlu, bonsöl and lhachö bonchö (respectively written bon mchod, bon mchod lugs, bon lugs, bon gsol and lha mchod bon mchod)20 all commonly used by informants in discussions of their ritual practice. Moreover, the paired oral expressions bonkar and bonak, which are morally evaluative from a Buddhist point of view, and which are sometimes used to distinguish rites employing offerings that are either vegetarian (bonkar) or involving meat and blood (bonak), were only rarely used by my informants. 21 Bonkar and bonak mainly occurred in the more southern areas of the research region, where Khengkha, Chocha-ngacha and Tshangla are the most common spoken languages. Moreover, in my data these paired expressions became used when informants were prompted in interviews to describe their own practices. Conspicuously, they did not spontaneously occur in discourse among local speakers within the same Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. It became obvious that various bon or Bon referents already reported for the wider region reflect these dynamics: usage by persons who stand outside of communities and ceremonial groups worshipping Sridpa’i lha and responses made by ‘insiders’ towards such ‘outsiders’ in a manner which satisfies the expectations (and original wording) of the latter type of interlocutor.

20

4. Finally, at a few sites in the far north of the known distribution zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship, that is, sites in closest proximity to the Tibetan Plateau, a small collection of manuscripts and ritual chants feature the proper names Bon and g.Yu-rung Bon, the latter literally meaning ‘Suitable Turquoise Bon’. These names refer in context to a ritual system that appears to be a hybrid of aspects from the Tibetan g.Yung-drung Bon religion and the cultural practices of local ritual specialists who would otherwise be ethnographically defined as shamans. g.Yu-rung Bon was historically localised in southernmost Central Tibet, while the name also occurs in the ritual language of Tamang bombo shamans in highland central Nepal. This Bon usage in the Srid-pa’i lha cult is certainly an artefact of some form of direct or indirect past contact between local ritual specialists concerned with mundane rites, and agents who have represented organised Tibetan religions in some way or other. The most likely candidates for such a transmission that we can identify appear in fact to have been certain impartial Buddhist lamas, as discussed in chapters 4 and 14. Because bon/Bon and its variants are commonly used by peoples of Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor to refer to highly diverse local instances of the cults of territorial deities and local environmental spirits, careful ethnographic and linguistic distinctions are vital in research. In terms of cosmological orientation, ritual goals, narrative content, practice of rites, and to a large extent the types of ritual specialists involved, cults of territorial deities and local environmental spirits all represent fundamentally different phenomena from the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For example, the former cults all refer to a relatively horizontal cosmological orientation spanning the proximate physical world – between mountaintops and subsoil – only. They frequently focus upon rites of affliction, and those with an apotropaic function, while their narrative rhetoric revolves around what Guntram Hazod described as the “ritual discourses of barbarizing and civilizing” typical of post-imperial Tibetan salvation religions.22 By contrast, Srid-pa’i lha worship places most emphasis upon a vertical cosmology extending to the highest limits of the universe. It focuses upon rites for

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

procreation, production and increase, while its actual rites express more closely some features of what Hazod called the “invitation principle”23, as well as negotiating and exchanging with other non-human beings as opposed of conquering and converting them.

Srid-pa’i lha are no resort for curing skin diseases believed to be caused by disturbed spirits of the subsoil.

All the above is not to say that different types of local cults run completely parallel to and discrete from one another, for in practice they do not. Srid-pa’i lha rites can have certain overlaps with local cults of territorial deities and numina of the proximate environment, and examples of exactly how and to what extent this can occur are presented in the documentations of specific festivals in part IV. Moreover, communities who worship Srid-pa’i lha and local spirits also value Buddhism, and very readily identify themselves as ‘Buddhist’ if any context demands that of them. In the daily life of the Himalayan communities I stayed in, any rites directed towards non-human beings, together with village Buddhism and sometimes forms of medical diagnosis and treatment, are understood and treated as a range of alternative modes for constructively addressing one’s own and one’s family’s or community’s problems, goals and desires within a complex “ritual cosmos.”24 Collectively, these modes offer different forms of assistance and benefits throughout an individual person’s life cycle or a community’s productive cycle. Local ritual knowledge defines what the most appropriate modes of address are in any given context. Thus, communities do maintain real divisions of ritual labour, a variety of ritual specialists, alternative reference points in time and space for performance of different rites, and various forms of goal seeking, all recognised and embodied in local practice. My research data demonstrate that, alongside village Buddhism, and the plethora of local cults addressing territorial and environmental numina, Srid-pa’i lha worship for periodic revitalisation of persons and their animals represents one of three distinct ritual orientations within the communities where it exists. While distinct, these three are not exclusive. For a majority of rural village dwellers, these orientations co-exist without conflict, for each is valued for what the others do not or cannot offer. Buddhism provides no immediate or convincing solution to parents unable to conceive a child, just as the

I employ my own generic term bon shaman to describe the primary ritual specialists who perform ‘rites’ (bon) addressed to Srid-pa’i lha on behalf of a community. These positions are always male, although their transmission can sometimes pass between male incumbents via uterine descent. As with my construct Srid-pa’i lha cult, use of bon shaman is both convenient and heuristic in relation to my own results and writing. Bringing together the referents bon and shaman is justified by my research data. While bon here is unambiguously the indigenous, regional identification for the practices and ritual culture I studied, I use shaman in this case as an evidence-based referent within a framework of comparative Himalayan ethnography discussed in part III. The expression bon shaman, as I intend and use it herein, cannot be applied historically beyond the scope of living memory or robust documentary sources concerning the past in the research region. When use of bon shaman cannot be so justified, I resort to the neutral terms ‘ritual specialist’ and ‘autonomous ritual specialist’ to emphasise lack of any known connections with organised religions or institutions.

Bon Shamans

Srid-pa’i lha In major ritual antecedent narratives and rites employed in the cult, Srid-pa’i lha occurs as a formal category term for the type of life-giving deities who are the primary focus of rites. It designates beings within the class of ‘lha of the sky’ (gnam gyi lha), who are credited with being present at the origins of the world and defined as primordial progenitors, and thus reckoned as apical ancestors of living beings, but especially those human descent groups who are worshippers in the cult. Sometimes the Srid-pa’i lha are also defined as Phya (or Phywa) beings. The boundaries between these two groups of beings are sometimes blurred and confusing,

21

Source of Life

especially since both are identified with fundamental vitality principles which serve as life’s basis (see ch. 2), and in the case of Phy[w]a, their name is identical with that of the phy[w]a vitality principle itself. Both beings do appear consistently in two different roles within myths, hence their respective activities are associated with different verbs. While Srid-pa’i lha are primordial progenitors of living beings and thus their ancestors, Phy[w]a appoint and assign the place of each thing or being in the world, and as Rolf Stein put it “Rather than creators, these are directors, world developers.”25 The important distinction is that while neither Srid-pa’i lha nor Phy[w]a are ultimate creators of the universe, they each play a role in how the cosmogonic process unfolds. Use of the spoken term Srid-pa’i lha is mainly restricted to bon shamans who read manuscripts, while ordinary worshippers simply use the colloquial abbreviation lha. Thus, Srid-pa’i lha, lha, and far less commonly Phy[w]a, are interchangeable as category terms in my data. In Tibetan language, srid/srid pa is a fertile lexeme and can serve as verb, noun and adjective. In the specific contexts of cosmology, origin narratives and rites related to vitality or life that this study is concerned with, srid/srid pa can indicate ‘creation’, ‘procreation’ and ‘coming into being’, ‘origins’ and that which is ‘original’, ‘existence’ (i.e., ‘to be’), ‘phenomenal existence’ (i.e., ‘the world’), ‘life’, ‘living being’, ‘[for something] to be possible’, and more besides.26 This is precisely the domain of human concerns addressed in the cult, and the Srid-pa’i lha themselves both represent and are the crucial agents assigned to it. In many contexts, this very semantic breadth and nuance of the srid pa element in the name Srid-pa’i lha defies easy or even possible translation. Are they the ‘original lha’, or the ‘lha of procreation’, or the ‘lha of the phenomenal world’, and so on, or does the term cover all three of these possibilities simultaneously? This ambivalence is already evident in the existing history of scholarly attempts to gloss Srid-pa’i lha,27 and I prefer to leave the name of this class of deities untranslated. With regard to the element lha, I tend to agree with Christopher Beckwith that this word referring to sky beings who are also progenitor-ancestors is basically untranslatable into English 28 or, one might say, frequently better left untranslated, which has mostly been my choice in this study. Indigenous

22

use of lha can designate multiple beings in different categories, such that single or simple translations risk prejudging the complex ontology found in cults like that of the Sridpa’i lha, where identities and mobile vitality principles or ‘souls’ are often shared and blurred among various types of beings who are deemed to be related. I follow Samten Karmay in resorting to ‘deity’ for generic reference to such lha beings,29 since it is a recognisable polytheistic marker that also defines special ontological qualities. I briefly discuss the historical origins of the term Srid-pa’i lha in chapter 3.

Rabs as Performed Ritual Texts A defining feature of the Srid-pa’i lha cult is the centrality of chanted oral ritual texts, almost all of which are also recorded in written manuscripts employed by bon shamans. Indeed, the highly literate nature of the bon shaman’s ritual culture means they belong to a small group of ‘text-reading shamans’ active along the extended eastern Himalayas. The corpus of texts that each bon shaman transmission maintains, resemble the narratives chanted by other Himalayan shamans. They are mainly concerned with explaining origins as precedents and aetiological vectors for focussing upon immediate concerns, addressing beings considered as ancestors and maintaining links with them, and defining ritual journeys of various types. Like other shamans, the bon shaman functions to a certain extent as a repository of community knowledge about origins, although not about ‘the past’ in the chronological sense of history. All these features will be discussed and illustrated fully in parts III and IV. Here the concern is with the type and characteristics of the main literature in the bon shaman’s narrative corpus. While the variety of bon shaman texts extends beyond those just mentioned above to include offering formulas, magic spells, genealogies, eulogies and declarations of ritual participants’ aspirations, most of them are self-styled as rabs to be understood as ‘ritual antecedent narrative’ in this context. Less frequently, the same narratives are self-styled as lugs. This is best translated as ‘method’ or ‘manner [of doing something]’30 and related to ritual practice and its mnemonic recording in oral and written texts which serve as

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

guidelines. The terms rabs and lugs – and sometimes thabs ‘method’ – are often interchangeable in both bon shaman manuscripts and in the much older ritual texts from which the rites in the cult have been derived.31 Both also semantically overlap and are partly synonymous with the meaning of bon for ‘rite’ described above. The terms rabs, lugs and bon are also related to le’u literally ‘division’, referring to units of ritual practice, which I discuss in more detail in chapter 14. The common thread here is that in the cult all four terms – rabs, lugs, bon and le’u – signify a system of ritual practice based upon narrative and its oral performance. A brief description of this type of ritual literature is essential here, due to the centrality of public chanting of rabs texts within the cult, and because they represent the primary sources available for comparative textual analysis to understand the cult’s origins and possible relationships with apparently cognate ancient and contemporary phenomena. In terms of recording narratives related to ritual practice, rabs form a recognisable if somewhat loose genre or set of compositional strategies found in both pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan and post-eleventh century Classical Tibetan sources. Remarkably, contemporary rabs used for Srid-pa’i lha rites are very similar in most respects to older, non-Buddhist examples of rabs from a much earlier period. This is not only true in terms of their overall structure and myth motifs, but also because they preserve some unique examples of phrasing, proper names and vocabulary items evident in the older texts. The bulk of existing scholarship has investigated the oldest known rabs mainly composed in Old Tibetan and earlier forms of Classical Tibetan language, yet that research has faced severe limitations. All these older rabs have come down to us merely as preserved stories and descriptions of rite techniques, which lack any kind of contextualising information about their possible performance as actual social practice. In this void, all commentators have so far assumed that use of rabs precedes a rite, and that their chanted exposition is prior to the performance of associated ritual actions. Also attributed to rabs is their function as models or archetypes for ritual action.32 While many rabs do contain basic rite descriptions which, when followed as set down, might equate to a general outline of the series of actions a specialist performs, to my

knowledge their status as actual models or archetypes for real actions in the world has never been empirically demonstrated. The same idea that rabs act as models entails they are related to conceptions of a rite’s efficacy. One does frequently encounter final and brief rhetorical statements in rabs formulated along the lines of “what was beneficial in the past shall be beneficial now”.33 Once again, the significance of such statements for actual performers of rites remains unproven. The general characteristics of rabs just cited are present in the majority of rabs used within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. However, most existing suppositions about rabs derived only from studies of written texts were not supported, or at least not fully on some points, by my empirical data. For instance, chanting of rabs frequently constituted the actual rite itself, as opposed to some preliminary part prior to action. The idea that one may have preceded the other never made sense in any case, since chanting itself is an action, a speech act. Chanting of rabs, and performing of related, non-verbal ritual actions occurred simultaneously in many cases I observed, rather than sequentially (see ch. 7). Finally, ethnographic observations of actions constituting a rite do not necessarily follow the description in any rabs text being used by a performer. Similarly, circumstances of performance may only have the most general or vague relationship to the supposed precedent in the antecedent narrative a rabs offers. What I did observe within Srid-pa’i lha cult communities is that antecedent tales in rabs can serve as an aetiological basis for discursive explanations of, or justifications for, current behaviours and choices. A recognised characteristic of many written rabs narratives is their inherent variability. The generation of variety over time itself appears typical of this loose genre of texts and how they are generated and used. Srid-pa’i lha rabs vary from site to site, while nevertheless all maintaining a common scheme or framework with variations upon a set of identical or similar motifs, settings, character types and identities, and linguistic conventions. Within the manuscript collections of individual bon shamans, there are often different variations of the same rabs recorded side by side. This reflects exactly the occurrence of series

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or collections of the same story type or paradigm retold over and over again, yet each time with different characters and details inserted, which we find occurring in rabs preserved in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan manuscripts, early Classical Tibetan documents such as the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts or the later Klu ’bum. When one reads enough of these texts across this known corpus, the on-going recycling of plots, motifs, names and even details right down to name elements in texts spanning many centuries is easily discerned. In these texts, we are viewing a pool of cultural resources constantly being redeployed by creative agents in different historical periods in relation to the specific circumstances they are addressing. It is thus not possible to claim uniqueness for much in these narratives, since their content can reoccur in various texts harnessed and nuanced to quite different purposes over centuries. In parallel, the same is true of the types of rites these texts relate to. The same basic set of rite techniques can be deployed, in various configurations, to address very different goals, such as increase, protection, expulsion, restoration, and so forth. Brandon Dotson recently described the modular variability of antecedent narratives as based upon motifs and storytypes that are “collapsible and portable, but detachable”.34 Rolf Stein had earlier defined this same characteristic in relation to corpuses of both Old Tibetan rabs and what he called Moso (i.e., Naxi dtô-mbà) ritual texts, and his words apply equally to rabs used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult: [A] collection of accounts which differ not only from one source to another, but also within one and the same corpus. However, they are all reduced to a unique schema of which they are variations. No authority chose among these variations an account considered as orthodox or valid in relation to the others. On the contrary, the authors of these collections were conscious at the time of the thematic unity of all these accounts and of the necessity of giving them as large a number as possible of variants. These accounts are in fact as many as the cases or precedents which justify and authenticate the rites on the occasion of which they are recited.35

24

Recognising this basic character of rabs is essential for understanding the ritual culture of Srid-pa’i lha worship as a diffuse and variable, yet nevertheless also rather coherent regional phenomenon. It is also necessary for drawing distinctions between the cult and what occurs in any organised religions it might be compared with, but especially g.Yung-drung Bon. Fundamental here is that the ritual function and efficacy of every version of a rabs used by a bon shaman are considered the same when chanted in the appropriate ritual context. No single version is ultimately better than any other. Secondly, every bon shaman is potentially a creative specialist who can (re)produce rabs variations endlessly within the bounds of the ritual paradigms he gains from his lineage and maintains, by using the inherited narrative resources at his disposal. Stein’s related methodological observation on rabs was that “one cannot consider and ‘understand’ any version in isolation. Consciously or unconsciously, they form a network of relationships. They explain each other. One has to embrace the totality of the corpus.”36 Accordingly, my approach to all narrative material from the Srid-pa’i lha cult was to collect and compare as many versions of rabs as possible, and not privilege any single version over the others. The analytical corollary to these points above is that one can never assume or claim the existence of any ‘Ur-text’ of a rabs set down in an original version for reference, in the manner that both conventional philology and dogmatic religions are wont to do. For this very reason, texts preserved within the g.Yung-drung Bon canonical corpus which structurally resemble rabs – and that even have the rabs designation – cannot be accorded the same analytical status as, nor simply be equated with, those rabs we know to have come from and been used within living domains of autonomous ritual specialists. The former texts represent captive single versions of rabs which at some point have become fixed within a religious orthodoxy, are claimed as the original work of a single author or ‘treasure revealer’ (gter ston) within the religious system, and thus repeated unmodified thereafter as authoritative liturgy. Compared with this, the rabs texts of autonomous ritual specialists are mere snapshots from the flow of a living and dynamic tradition that inherently generates variety in the hands of creative, autonomous agents

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

whose prime concern is with performance and efficacy, not orthodoxy or exclusivity. Scholars of Tibetan language ritual literature have far too often ignored or overlooked this important distinction. Moreover, the characteristics of rabs as a loose genre of ritual texts intended for performance signal what conclusions it might be possible to make about them. One cannot simply attribute variation among them to any vague notion of deviation over time in relation to some ‘original’, nor to the assumed contingent or unstable features of oral transmission. Finally, it is certainly worth noting that works sharing all the characteristics of rabs are known to occur in contexts identified with independent local ritual specialists, or with either Tibetan Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon, both on the Tibetan Plateau and further beyond it around its northern, eastern and southern margins, among a variety of ethnolinguistic groups, and even written in non-Tibetan languages such as the Naxi pictographic script. While rabs is clearly a type of ritual literature specific to different peoples of the wider Tibetosphere, it belongs to no one group or movement across space and time. The frequent labelling of these types of texts as being “Bonpo” in the absence of criteria and good evidence is an unfortunate trend in the published scholarship.

1.4 The Cult’s Regional Distribution and Context Extensive field surveys undertaken across eastern Bhutan and far western Arunachal Pradesh between 2009 and 2014 enabled conclusive identification of most decisive features of the Srid-pa’i lha cult listed above within a total of seventyseven individual worship communities (map 1).37 Three additional sites in the southern Mon-yul Corridor currently remain difficult to classify. Up until late 2013, active calendric festivals were still being maintained at fifty-two sites among the total, but that number has already declined up to the time of writing. A register of all known worship communities and festivals is given in appendix A. In addition to this contemporary total, an old manuscript analysed in chapter 16 allowed identification of seven historical worship communities in north-east Bhutan and the Tawang region that retain

no current cultural memory of their past involvement in the cult. Due to lack of any other forms of confirmation, their locations are plotted separately on map 8. Together, all past and present sites of the cult span a region extending some 170 kilometres from west to east, and 100 kilometres from north to south (map 1). Thus, the Srid-pa’i lha cult is truly a regional phenomenon in this part of the eastern Himalayas. A general sketch of the geographical, ecological, economic, linguistic and historical contexts for the region across which all Srid-pa’i lha worship communities are spread is given below. However, at the time of my field research and writing there were virtually no extensive and reliable ethnographic accounts of social organisation and cultural life for the entire research region. Likewise, research on many of the region’s languages remained very much a work in progress.38 Coherently characterising populations or groupings within this region in terms of any ethnolinguistic identities above the scale of villages or settlement clusters thus had little or no empirical basis.39 Beyond a dearth of published data, my own fieldwork observations revealed many worship communities to be diverse social entities. The villages I sampled exhibited a layered complexity, with internal social and cultural divisions as a clear legacy of much older migration, settlement and assimilation processes. Such processes were still fully in train while I conducted my research. While historical insights into many of these processes are seldom available, we do have a detailed record of recent transformations and mobility associated with modern nation-state building. Examples of this will be discussed in part IV and Ref lections II. It was typical to find that twenty percent or more of rural persons no longer resided in their natal villages due to recent out-migration to roadside settlements, district towns and distant urbanising centres. Evidence gathered during the period of my field studies suggested that migration away from remote rural villages was rapidly increasing beyond these levels. I found diversity of social practice to be high at the community level. To take the example of marriage, within a single neighbourhood, or even in certain larger,

25

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Srid-pa’ i lha Cult Sites 2013

T

active ceased

I

( C

H

B I

N

E

A )

currently unclassifiable

Tamshul

Kula Kangri

T

Yarlha Shampo

Gathang Bumpache

B

H

U

T

A

K h om a ch u

Drushul

N

Tsona

Kangtö

M O N

g chu olon Kh

ar ch u

u ri ch

kh

Sh e r e c hu

m

Thimphu

Ku

Ja

Trongsa

N yamjang c h u

L H O D R A K

Tawang

a Taw

Dr a n

u ng ch

gm

a ch

u

Dirang

Mongar M

an

gd

0

15

30

e

ch

ARUNACHAL PRADESH

u

60 km

multi-generational households in a village, one could find three different forms of marriage side by side. At any given site, these might include prescriptive matrilineal crosscousin unions, non-prescriptive unions based on mutual partner choice yet carefully observing established endogamous boundaries, and so-called ‘love marriages’ unrelated to any other patterns of historical alliance known from the same community. Occurrence of these diverse forms often - but not always - reflected generational age. In larger villages, it was not uncommon to encounter individuals with experience of college education and international travel living next door to peers within the same age cohort who were semi-illiterate farmers or cow-herders whose lifetime horizons never extended more than fifty kilometres beyond

26

I

N

D

I

A

é Map 1. Known sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities as of December 2013.

their homes. With over a dozen languages used across the research region, some people are f luently multilingual, while others remain monolingual. There are also clear examples of migration leading to replacement of original languages by other tongues due to assimilation. Everyone has acquired some familiarity and identification with Buddhism by birth and socialisation, but what being a ‘Buddhist’ meant in practice varied enormously from one individual to the next, and defied easy generalisation. Aside from Buddhism, many people identify with and participate

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

in communal cults or individual practices involving a range of different localised deities and spirits. By the same token, significant numbers of persons with modern educations no longer found the ideas and practices of such orientations compelling. They neither resorted to, nor earnestly participated in such cults beyond what was considered necessary for the sake of maintaining smooth relations within family circles and community networks, or they did so more as a matter of respect and tolerance rather than expectation of any actual benefits promised by the rituals. Given the situation I encountered on the ground, and aside from remarks on general cosmological reference points and outlook I describe in part II, I reserve discussion of relevant aspects of social and cultural life for the documentation of individual worship communities presented in part IV.

Geographical Setting All of my research findings indicate the geographical distribution of Srid-pa’i lha cult sites is an artefact of historical migrations. The sites occur spread across the current international border between Bhutan and India (map 1). Apart from a few minor adjustments, this border ref lects the politically maintained frontier between premodern states in this area since the late seventeenth century. The very fact that highly cognate forms of the cult occur distributed across this older and well-established political boundary is indicative of the longer historical existence and persistence of the phenomenon itself. It predates the advent of premodern Himalayan states in the region. The same can be said of the regional, trans-border spread of clan and lineage identities of those worship communities practising the cult. In a Himalayan region for which we have so few credible historical sources prior to the seventeenth century era of state founding, this trans-border spread of a cultural system highly specific to certain descent groups is itself a valuable piece of indicative evidence about the past. All indications are that Srid-pa’i lha worship is an entirely Himalayan phenomenon, with no presence upon the adjacent Tibetan Plateau. Publications describing the few communities speaking Dzala or Dakpa whom Chinese authorities label

as Menbazu (i.e., Mon-pa’i rigs in Tibetan) dwelling in the southern Mon mTsho-sna district of the Tibet Autonomous Region contain no data on any rites or myths resembling this phenomenon.40 Map 1 reveals that all Srid-pa’i lha worship communities are located along the courses of the region’s major northsouth river systems, as well as in their largest tributary valleys. These rivers include, from west to east, the Mangde Chu, Jamkhar Chu, the west bank of the Kuri Chu, the Khoma Chu, Kholong Chu, the lower Nyamjang Chu and the Tawang Chu. The partial exception to this is the small cluster of easternmost sites around the Drangma Chu (also named Drangnang Chu and Dirang Chu) which flows roughly south-east down from the Ze La pass catchment area of the central Mon-yul Corridor. Apart from this last exception, all these river valleys that harbour the Srid-pa’i lha cult either flow southwards off of the Tibetan Plateau by cutting through the main Himalayan chain, or their headwaters are located at the main Himalayan watershed and directly connected to the Tibetan highlands via passes crossing the mountains. These valley and pass routes were all known, premodern conduits for migration, trade and cultural communication between Tibetan highlands to the north and Himalayan hill and valley systems immediately to the south. This geography has strongly determined the social and cultural history of eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. I will return to this point in more detail in the chapters of part V when considering the origins of the cult.

Ecology and Economy Most Srid-pa’i lha worship communities share a set of consistent ecological and economic characteristics. Virtually all participants in the cult lived in agrarian villages during the period of my research. Until very recently, the majority subsisted as mountain farmers and seasonal herders with a frequent component of petty trade. Their communities are located on moderately steep hill country, mostly within a 1500-2500 metres altitude spectrum. The very lowest dwelling among them is at Kheng Bjoka in southern Bhutan

27

Source of Life

Primary Spoken Languages of Worship Communities

T

East Bodish languages Chocha-ngacha Tshangla

Gongdukha

H

B I

N

E

A )

Tamshul

Kula Kangri

T

Yarlha Shampo

Gathang Bumpache

L H O D R A K

B

H

U

T

A

K h om a ch u

Drushul

N

Tsona

Kangtö

M O N

g chu olon Kh

ar ch u

u ri ch

kh

Sh e r e c hu

m

Thimphu

Ku

Ja

Trongsa

N yamjang c h u

Kho-Bwa cluster languages

I

( C

Tawang

a Taw

Dr a n

u ng ch

gm

a ch

u

Dirang

Mongar M

an

gd

0

15

30

e

ch

ARUNACHAL PRADESH

u

60 km

around 1000 metres above sea level, with the highest sites located in the Tang valley of Bhutan and in the Tawang region of north-east India, both closer to 3000 metres. While the north-south distribution of sites might appear ecologically significant, this is also somewhat deceptive due to local topographical variation in rugged mountain and valley systems. In proximity to many of the highest northern hill sites, we also find closely related communities dwelling along deep valley floors around 1000 metres lower than their immediate highland neighbours. Thus, it is impossible to easily stereotype the distribution of ethnic groups and life-styles in this region purely in terms of broader geographical and ecological units. The more important point is that most communities within this range typically have

28

I

N

D

I

A

é Map 2. Primary spoken languages of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities.

access to different types of lands and resources which they have been able to exploit within a mixed subsistence economy combining cultivation, grazing and husbandry of livestock, as well as some forms of wild harvesting. The degree of emphasis upon and balance between these strategies is merely nuanced in relation to each local ecosystem and resource base. Thus, historically, and still during my period of field research, the overall ecological setting has generated similar patterns in nearly all Srid-pa’i lha worship communities, regardless of settlement altitude and location.

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

Even recent, modern trends have developed rather uniformly across the research region. For example, since the mid-twentieth century the premodern pattern of growing a high diversity of grain crops to exploit the widest range of locally available sites and seasonal variation has been gradually scaled back in favour of increased rice and maize cultivation. Both rice and maize represent introduced crops compared with older regional grains such as millet, buckwheat, barley and amaranths now all much less favoured. Similarly, swidden cultivation, and the creation of grazing areas by seasonally firing underbrush in forested areas were both common premodern practices throughout the region. Modern state laws within Bhutan, where the majority of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities are located, now ban both practices, while seasonal burning is also officially banned or controlled along the Mon-yul Corridor. Parallel to such recent developments in agrarian production, wild harvesting practices across the region have also been transformed by new legislation. Hunting of game animals, fishing, harvest and trade in wild bee honey or hornet larvae, and other such activities have all recently become illegal and more strongly controlled under modern laws and conservation institutions than ever before, and are often now highly stigmatised as a result. There is an important connection between the aforementioned forms of rural subsistence production right throughout this Himalayan highland region and cultural aspirations. These production strategies have all been – and mostly remain – very labour intensive, and household labour resources have long been a crucial factor determining viability of settlement. As a result, human fertility and successful conceptions and births of children featured as central ritual concerns of the region’s inhabitants. The Sridpa’i lha cult directly addresses these concerns for its worship communities. There are other broadly uniform features of productive life in this region that have long caused populations to be mobile beyond their settlement areas. In premodern times, these included both the widespread occurrence of petty trading along and between valley systems, and formal institutions of taxation requiring compulsory transport-labour

service to be discharged by peasant taxpayers. Premodern intra-regional migration was often related to taxation burdens as well in this part of the Himalayas. Recent decades have seen the advent of high levels of out-migration from all the Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. This has been driven mainly by a complex combination of push and pull factors, including emerging labour markets, infrastructure development (or lack of it), education and shifts in personal life aspirations, as well as both private and state-orchestrated resettlement initiatives. These modern phenomena are rapidly and cumulatively altering rural demographics to the point of straining the economic and social viability of highland farming in many parts of the region. Until recently, this subsistence agrarian base was the only one that all Srid-pa’i lha worship communities depended upon for their existence. Moreover, the life world of rural villages has been the only meaningful social context within which the cult of the Srid-pa’i lha has been practiced. Being significantly degraded by extensive out-migration, rural communities have found it increasingly difficult to continue staging festival to worship Srid-pa’i lha. At least in Bhutan during the period of my field research, the cult’s rapid decline existed parallel to a similar decline in local traditions of lay Buddhist ritual specialists (gomchen) and other village-based ritual institutions and events, all intimately related to rural out-migration (see Reflections II).

Spoken Languages A striking feature of the regional distribution of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities is their relatively strong degree of linguistic affinity and the distribution of languages used by worshippers. A majority of worshippers in the cult are native speakers of a set of contiguous and related languages and dialects belonging to the East Bodish grouping (map 2). From east to west, these languages among cult participants include Dakpa and Dzala, Kurtöp, Bumthap and Khengkha, with a small minority speaking Henkha/ Nyenkha (also called Phobjip and Upper Mangdep) at the far west of the range. My data reveal that together these East Bodish speakers represent the core social component in the cult, and one possessing the highest sophistication

29

Source of Life

of rites and narratives we can trace back to southernmost Central Tibet just to the north. Since much of this study to follow relates to and discusses the speakers of East Bodish languages, here I will rather note the minority and more marginal linguistic groups in a little more detail. In addition to speakers of East Bodish languages, there exist a significant minority grouping of worship communities speaking the Tibetic language Chocha-ngacha. There are also a few villages practicing Srid-pa’i lha worship who speak the as yet unclassified Gongdukha language. 41 The Chocha-ngacha and Gongdukha speakers in the cult are all more or less contiguous, being geographically restricted solely to the west bank of the mid- to lower Kuri Chu river valley. The three Chocha-ngacha speaking communities along the lower Kholong Chu valley on map 2 actually descend from original Khengkha speaking ancestors who migrated from the Jamkhar Chu valley and assimilated to the language of their resettlement location (see ch. 10). This exception aside, it is significant that all Chocha-ngacha and Gongdukha speakers live immediately adjacent to neighbours speaking East Bodish languages, and with whom they have a history of affinal relations by which the Srid-pa’i lha cult could have been transmitted. The presence of worship communities among them also indicates that they inhabited their current settlement areas by the time Srid-pa’i lha worship developed into its present form. Several small clusters of worship communities speaking the Tshangla language were recorded at sites right along the southern margins of the distribution region of the Srid-pa’i lha cult (map 2). This is where Tshangla speakers have potentially had long historical contacts with speakers of East Bodish languages, such as Khengkha further west and Dakpa further east. Significantly, we find specific and locally elite social groups within these same Tshangla speaking Srid-pa’i lha worship communities who invariably have migration histories and socio-cultural characteristics demonstrating earlier descent from, or connection with, an originally East Bodish speaking ancestor population of Srid-pa’i lha worshippers. Such characteristics include clan and lineage identities, origin narratives, hereditary status markers, affinal ties, exclusive rituals, specific deities,

30

dietary taboos, and so on. Thus, in contrast to most other non-Tshangla speaking sites, in these communities only specific descent groups with such an ancestral background practice the cult,42 while others are excluded. The documentation of Thempang in chapter 11 is of one such socially complex, contemporary Tshangla speaking community whose Srid-pa’i lha-worshipping component has strong ancestral roots among speakers of Dakpa further north. Based upon all available evidence, we can be quite confident that the Srid-pa’i lha cult has no older or ‘indigenous’ roots within the Tshangla speaking zone. This is a significant finding for this part of the eastern Himalayas, where Tshangla nowadays has by far the largest number of native speakers of any local language in this region. Just beyond the core distribution zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship in the south-east around Dirang (map 2), there exist three worship communities that remain difficult to place in relation to all other known examples of the cult. These are the three linguistically related populations who are speakers of a cluster of unclassified Kho-Bwa languages (or dialects) in the southern Mon-yul Corridor. Each of these three communities stages one distinctive type of annual clan festival which demonstrate degrees of resemblance to festivals for Srid-pa’i lha worship elsewhere, and conform to the general cultural pattern I term ‘ancestor propitiation for revitalisation of descent groups’. The only example of these three festivals I could observe and fully document was the Chiksaybu staged by a group of established clans at Rahung (see ch. 13). They speak a socalled Sartang language/dialect from the Kho-Bwa cluster, and dwell immediately north of the Bomdi La pass in southernmost Dirang district. It has long been noted that the Sartang language/dialect spoken in Rahung is very similar to Mey/Sherdukpen spoken south of the Bomdi La,43 yet any close connections between these groups across the Bomdi La pass must have ended some centuries ago. For their part, the Rahungpa have maintained a long period of client relations with Tshangla speaking patrons at Thempang. Indigenous written documents describing contemporary events during the beginning of the nineteenth century reveal that a major conf lict between the Sherdukpen (or Mee) and

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

Thempangpa erupted at that time.44 One significant consequence was that Thempangpa stopped crossing the Bomdi La and passing through Sherdukpen lands in order to access the Char duar in Assam for trade and tribute collection. It is highly likely the client-patron relations between Thempang and Rahung date at latest from that time. Having documented Thempang’s Srid-pa’i lha festival (ch. 11), I compared it and other examples of the chisöshe type of festivals celebrated to the north around Dirang with the organisation and rites of the Rahungpa’s Chiksaybu. These events are socially and ritually close in various respects, yet also differ in fundamental ways (see chs. 11, 13). A basic outline of the Khiksaba festival staged at Rupa by the Sherdukpen community settled just south and west of the Bomdi La has recently been published. 45 The main language of the many songs sung or recited during Khiksaba is not Mey/Sherdukpen, or any other tongue from the Kho-Bwa cluster for that matter. Rather, it is Dakpa, or Brahmi 46 – as Dakpa has come to be commonly named in this part of the Mon-yul Corridor – albeit influenced in part by Mey/Sherdukpen. While Khiksaba includes components of purely local significance, many of its key rites, ritual actors and their costumes, props and titles are copies or adaptations of those occurring in the once common – now nearly defunct – Pla festivals staged around Dakpa speaking Tawang, as well as in festivals further west in the Dzala speaking zone of Bhutan. Such borrowings are also closely reflected in Khiksaba ritual vocabulary.47 Both Chiksaybu at Rahung and Khiksaba at Rupa also have various elements in common with the little documented Tchat Sowai festival celebrated in nearby Bugun communities.48 These people dwell in areas south of the Bomdi La and speak an unclassified language/dialect called Bugun (formerly Khowa). The earliest record of this population stressed their close economic and social proximity to their southern neighbours the Hrusish speaking Aka (Hruso).49 Both Chiksaybu and Tchat Sowai share specific rites that are not – or no longer – found in Khiksaba, while they both also lack any of the Dakpa and Tibetan influences from Pla that occur so strongly in Khiksaba. One can pose a working hypothesis to explain all these differences. Firstly, Chiksaybu and Tchat Sowai may ref lect an older form of clan

festival celebrated by all these southern speakers of KhoBwa languages prior to the various communities splitting apart during the early nineteenth century. Secondly, during some unknown period in the past, the Sherdukpen adapted elements of Pla under influence of Dakpa speaking Tawang groups whom they were in contact with. There is a fragment of historical evidence that indicates this possibility. At least one of the Sherdukpen patrician or Thong ranked clans named Krime or Khrime50 appears to have originated in the Dakpa speaking Tawang region. Members of the Khu clan from the Tawang settlement of Khri[d]-mo migrated south of the Ze La pass prior to the seventeenth century, and settled around Dirang under the name Khri-mo or Khri-mo-pa (see ch. 12). Some of their descendants could be the Krime first known from mid-twentieth century records of Sherdukpen society. In chapter 16, I document how the Khu clan and their descendants historically transmitted Srid-pa’i lha worship in north-eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. Furthermore, ethnographic evidence from Bugun communities reveals the possibility of their contact with Srid-pa’i lha worship via the Sherdukpen. Reports from the early 1990s state the Bugun Phiang clan from Singchung maintained a direct alliance involving trade with the Krime clan of Rupa, and that “[t]he people of Singchung used to present dry fish, potatoes, sugarcane every year during the Khikasaba Puja of Rupa village and in return they received an oxen from Rupa after every three years.”51 Apart from the seventeenth century reporting of Khu migration to, and Khri-mo-pa settlement in the central Mon-yul Corridor, we have no historical framework in which to consider when these contacts and influences involving speakers of KhoBwa languages further south may have occurred. Regardless of similarities and differences between the Chiksaybu, Khiksaba and Tchat Sowai festivals, they all also exhibit marked divergences from Srid-pa’i lha cult worship in other regions. The three events currently lack worship of any of the major regional Srid-pa’i lha, such as the universal ’O-de Gung-rgyal and widespread Gurzhe found elsewhere. The sophisticated vertical cosmography of the sky contextualising these deities is also absent, or at least only more simply articulated as far as the space around the tops of local hills and highlands. The ritual specialists

31

Source of Life

dedicated to these festivals are not text-reading shamans as found elsewhere in the cult, and thus lack any formal, written Tibetan language ritual antecedent narratives (rabs) for their rites. Perhaps these three festivals represent a substratum of local ancestral worship that was never strongly overlaid during the past by more formal ‘bon’-identified elements originating in and transmitted from Tibet? It is highly likely that such assumptions can never be tested. The social histories and cultures of Bugun, Rahung and Sherdukpen communities are entirely oral, and have left only the faintest of traces in premodern written documents.52 The status of their clan festivals remains ambivalent in relation to the Srid-pa’i lha cult across the region. Finally, there are several small populations settled adjacent to Srid-pa’i lha cult communities within the Monyul Corridor who appear never to have participated in the cult. They deserve brief mention because they provide evidence concerning the limits of spread of Srid-pa’i lha worship over time. The predominantly pastoralist and mixed agro-pastoralist Brokpa communities speaking the Tibetic language called Brokpaké are one such population. They live scattered at higher altitude sites in the headwaters of the Gamri Chu catchment in Bhutan, and adjacent parts of Tawang and Dirang districts in Arunachal Pradesh. There are also the tiny Khispi (or Lishpa) and Duhumbi (or Chugpa) communities settled, respectively, at and around the village site named Lish and in the directly neighbouring Chug valley of Dirang district. They each speak languages or dialects that share affinities with the Kho-Bwa cluster languages Mey/Sherdukpen and Rahung Sartang found further south, and with unclassified Bugun spoken still further to the south.53 Peoples with the autonyms Khispi and Duhumbi do not appear in any sources prior to recent decades. References in pre-twentieth century historical documents to their settlement sites at Lish and Chug reveal virtually no traces of the settlers there as actual social entities and identities.54 Thus, who actually dwelt there and the time depth of their settlement beyond that period is impossible to gauge using current evidence. As for the Brokpa ancestors, all indications are they represent a discrete migration southward from the Tibetan Plateau at some undetermined time prior to the late

32

seventeenth century, when they first appear in historical documents.55 None of these groups maintain the regional cultural pattern of ‘ancestor propitiation for revitalisation of descent groups’ that is the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s basis. On this point, the Khispi and Duhumbi even differ from those other speakers of Kho-Bwa cluster languages further south who were mentioned above. Those Dirang communities with much older traces in the historical record have generally shunned affinal relations with these small groups. This aversion has been particularly strong in relation to the Khispi and Duhumbi,56 who hold no position – not even as the lowest ranked yanlag - within the established Dirang clan and status hierarchies we know to have existed at least from the seventeenth century on, and most likely much earlier. Thus, all the evidence indicates two limitations. The Brokpa, Khispi and Duhumbi populations always lacked Srid-pa’i lha worship due to their separate migration and settlement histories. Moreover, they could never acquire the cult by way of any known mode of transmission since their social systems and cultural patterns were viewed as being too dissimilar from those ancestral groups who have hereditarily carried and transmitted the cult by birth and via certain forms of marriage.

Historical Context All available data set out in this study indicate the cult of Srid-pa’i lha is many centuries old within the research region. Its existence undoubtedly preceded the late seventeenth century era of premodern state formation in this part of the Himalayas, and our best estimates determine the late 1400s as the era of earliest development of the cult’s current forms (see vol. II). Prior to the threshold of state formation, there are so few valid historical sources concerning eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor that very little is known with any certainty of earlier social history in these regions. The major historical states in the region were the Drukpa polity (’Brug-gzhung) in Bhutan, and the southern extension into the Mon-yul Corridor of the Tibetan Ganden Phodrang (dGa’-ldan Pho-brang) state as an annexing power. While there were certainly differences between them, it is important to realise that both these states shared

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

many features in common. Both were based upon the same model of Tibetan Buddhist hierocratic governance, and ultimately served the same overall goals using similar forms of organisation. Moreover, both hierocracies became defunct and were superseded in the region during the earlyto mid- twentieth century. Tibetan influence over the Monyul Corridor gradually waned during the 1940s and early 1950s in the face of British colonial penetration and the subsequent administrative extension of newly independent India as far as its current northern borders. In adjacent eastern Bhutan, the monarchy that succeeded the Drukpa polity from 1905 maintained many structures and practices of its predecessor state until social reforms were enacted during the mid-1950s by the Third Wangchuk Dynasty monarch of Bhutan, King Jigme Dorji (r. 1952-1972). Thus, on both sides of the international frontier, these premodern polities continued many of their older practices up until the mid-twentieth century. From the perspective of the ancestral rural communities who maintained the Srid-pa’i lha cult under these premodern regimes, two features which shaped communal and individual life are worth emphasising: the fundamental economic interests both states had in ruling the regions; and the impact of these states upon local forms of social organisation.

trade route itself. Beyond this more formalised regional system, most villages and some individual families had additional ad hoc and informal (i.e., not subject to written agreements and records) taxes and obligations imposed upon them. 60 Details aside, many of these dynamics of extraction and economic interest apply equally to the Drukpa state and the pre-1950s period of monarchy which succeeded it in eastern Bhutan. These successive regimes also demanded high levels of taxation, maintained trade monopolies both across borders and internally, and were characterised by additional ad hoc and informal taxation exercised at the local level by holders of government posts and collateral households of the royal family. In his ethnographically researched historical novel, Hero with a Thousand Eyes, Bhutanese scholar Karma Ura gave a detailed account of the extreme taxation obligations imposed upon households in a premodern Srid-pa’i lha worship community within the lower Khoma valley.61 I read all the old taxation documents in the same village during my research there and can confirm Karma Ura’s account as completely accurate. In oral history interviews I conducted in eastern Bhutan, flight from crippling levels of ad hoc and informal taxation was a commonly stated reason for premodern migration and resettlement.

According to all available accounts, the primary interests of both the Drukpa polity – which were mostly continued under the Bhutanese monarchy until the 1950s – and the Ganden Phodrang state, as they manifested within the research region, were economically extractive and politically strategic, rather than religious and cultural. Ganden Phodrang economic extraction throughout the Monyul Corridor took two principal forms. The first was the direct levying of taxation from land-owning village households that was to be discharged as both payments in kind and through the imposition of labour service upon local communities.57 The second form derived from maintaining tight control over the Tibet-Assam trade route. This involved levying toll taxes upon trade at both ends of the route,58 imposing a monopoly upon trade of both rice going north and salt coming south, 59 and exploiting the labour service due as part of tax obligations from local communities for transportation along, and maintenance of, the

The lack of any overall interest and investment in religious conversion by premodern Bhutanese states is strongly apparent, even during recent times. The presence of institutions from the state-sponsored ’Brug-pa Buddhist school across east Bhutan is marginal, despite recent attempts to expand them, while in the Mon-yul Corridor the establishment of only one major monastic centre was strongly supported by the Ganden Phodrang state, with almost all other dGe-lugs-pa school centres there representing purely local missionary activity and sponsorship, rather than Tibetan investment. The rNying-ma-pa school, whose village level communities were established across the whole research region already by the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and that never benefited from full patronage by and protection under any hierocratic state, remain numerically and religiously significant until today.

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î Plate 1. Marimthung memorial mani wall, Dirang Busti, West Kameng, 2010.

There is no doubt that across both eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, premodern rural populations laboured under significant burdens imposed upon them by ruling elites, and this existed in addition to their own labour intensive productive systems. This regional feature has to be seen in light of what we know was a generally high infant mortality prior to recent development efforts,62 and the occurrence of epidemic diseases63 and natural disasters – such as periodic and catastrophic earthquakes64 – which also regularly claimed lives or reduced their capacity. In sum, maintenance of viable, premodern rural families and communities was frequently very precarious. Against this background of historical factors, the worship of ancestral beings aimed at revitalisation of individual lives and community vitality, to conceive new children, and for maintaining productive animal herds appears as an utterly rational premodern ritual strategy deployed by participants within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. It is no doubt one central reason why the cult endured and was conservatively husbanded for centuries, and why it remained robust well into the modern era. Conversely, the

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recent, modern absence or amelioration of the same negative or oppressive premodern conditions has rendered the goals of the cult increasingly redundant in recent decades. Its sharp decline in importance during the modern era will be discussed in Reflections II at the end of the volume. The social focal point of the cult of Srid-pa’i lha is not individual persons in the first instance, but rather the unit or group claiming shared descent of which any person is a member. In context, these groups can be variously defined at different sites – as clans, lineages, agnatic collectives or natal households – and they always form the main ceremonial groups worshipping in Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Historically, this central social focus of the cult has been subject to significant modification in some parts of the region. It is well established by historians that a series of older clans65 and named or titled family lineages with hereditary status – including gDung, Zhal-ngo and dPon-chen – were present across the research region prior to the advent of states.66 In Bhutan, the emerging Drukpa hierocracy of the

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

late seventeenth century was highly intolerant towards clan social organisation and to various autonomous, hereditary local elites, due to the potential competition over localised and sub-regional authority they represented. That state’s advent led to the disappearance of clans in all but one or two communities in the most remote valleys, while the gDung lineages gradually declined – also in part due to intermarriage with Buddhist religious lineages – and most are now extinct. Instead of these older forms, pre-1950s social organisation in Bhutanese rural communities became based upon a hierarchical system of communal and individual units and identities defined by taxation obligations and levels of dependency. Although this social order ceased to exist within the modernising state following reforms during the mid-1950s, the older, landed ‘taxpayer’ (khral pa) household identities persist as significant identities in the ritual organisation of Srid-pa’i lha festivals until today. The impact of states upon local social organisation was somewhat different in the Mon-yul Corridor. Initially, the Tibetan Ganden Phodrang polity, as annexing power from outside the region, violently confronted those local clans who opposed it in any way, as was the case in Bhutan. The traces of this endure until today. Standing along the side of the main road in the Shong Chimey section of Dirang Busti village, there is an exceptionally long mani wall structure named Marimthung (pl. 1). According to oral history accounts I collected, it was built in honour of twelve local clan leaders (mi tshan A pa) who were executed by Tawang monastery officials because they opposed the building of the Dirang Dzong and full imposition of Tibetan taxation and rule within the district.67 However, once the Ganden Phodrang’s rule was implemented, that state appears to have become indifferent to local society and its major problems,68 at least to the extent that the Ganden Phodrang’s primary extractive goals related to taxation and north-south trade monopolies remained unhindered.69 Due to this indifference, and in strong contrast to eastern Bhutan, the Monyul Corridor clans remained largely intact and socially and culturally significant well into the twentieth century. Clans endure until today in some communities supporting Sridpa’i lha worship. In Tawang district, this was the case until recent, rapid decline set in due to the advent of complex,

modern transformations, while in Dirang district local patriclans and agnatic sub-units associated with them were still a robust and meaningful social phenomenon within the communities I researched there. In summary, and according to all the evidence I survey throughout this work, due to the historical influences of the two premodern states in the region the social basis for ritual organisation within the Srid-pa’i lha cult became transformed across most of eastern Bhutan, while remaining more conservative within the Mon-yul Corridor. At my Bhutanese field research sites, premodern status as taxpaying, landed households and natal membership of them was the central identity referent for the principal ceremonial groups active during cult festivals, albeit with a residue of clan and hereditary gDung or dPon lineage identities enduring at a few sites. In the Mon-yul Corridor, clans, their sub-lineages and agnatic units within them continued to play a far more significant role, sometimes in combination with premodern, landed taxpayer household status.

Extended Eastern Himalayan Context There are other types of communal rites or festivals reported along the extended eastern Himalayas that are focussed upon, or incorporate, the primary goal of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, namely, periodic revitalisation related to ancestral beings. These rites are also more or less all performed by ritual specialists whom ethnographers have described as ‘shamans’. However, most such communal rites are distinguished in fundamental ways from festivals of the cult. For example, the so-called ‘feast of merit’ events widely reported among highland societies eastwards of the research region are not calendric, they are often staged in fixed, graded series, and are staged by and for the primary benefit of an individual sponsor, while socially they are characterised by complex systems of exchange and status ranking among the community of participants.70 All such features are absent from the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and in the few instances where exchange is present, it is based upon a principle of reciprocal equality and not articulated with ranking or social mobility. Moreover, the known examples

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of communal festivals from Arunachal Pradesh, immediately east of the research region, with certain characteristics of feast of merit events have a different cosmological orientation focussed upon the horizontal and the downward vertical axes. They are played out conceptually across the proximate terrestrial environment, as well as beneath it in an underworld where life continues after death.71

noted throughout the book, in chapters 17 and 18 I engage in a focussed and extensive comparative exercise to demonstrate what I hypothesise is a defined domain of shared ancestral heritage among all these peoples.

Elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas, we do rarely find analogous rites for revitalisation in relation to ancestral beings that resemble the Srid-pa’i lha cult in being cosmically oriented skywards, along the upward vertical axis. Documented examples include the meŭsòq-wà rite among the Drung along the north-western Yunnan border, and the cult of Sara ṅdew/Rùrùhaŋ among selected Mewahang Rai clans and households in east Nepal.72 However, neither of these examples is communal as they are performed only for individuals or for very specific sub-groups within a wider community, nor is the Drung rite calendric.

Descriptive Accounts

The closest known ethnographic analogues for Srid-pa’i lha festivals actually occur much farther along the extended eastern Himalayas, among speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages in north-west Yunnan and the so-called “ethnic corridor” of western Sichuan.73 The strongest comparisons can be made with the premodern Naxi Muân bpò’ festival and its cognate forms among immediately adjacent populations speaking Naic languages, as well as with premodern Paying the Vows ceremonies staged annually in a sacred grove by Qiang speakers in the greater Min Shan catchment region. There is much specific evidence of cultural continuity between the older core of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities who speak the Dakpa and Dzala languages, and those peoples of the far eastern Tibetan Plateau Marches who use the Ma/Me/Mi autonym complex and who are the modern Qiang (i.e., Chinese Qiangzu, but not the ubiquitous “Qiang” of Chinese historiography), and those using Na autonyms who are the modern Naxi and some of their neighbours. While a range of brief comparisons between aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and the ritual cultures of premodern Qiang and Naxi groups will be

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1.5

Existing Accounts and Sources

Both prior to and during the period of research and writing of this book, no methodical ethnographic research into Srid-pa’i lha worship had been conducted. Only a handful of short, descriptive accounts of several individual Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged between the mid-1970s and 2011 have been available, although their reliability and thus utility value is highly variable.74 Such festivals have generally been treated as isolates having local relevance only. Neither their relationship to social organisation and history, nor their ethnolinguistic specificity have been explored. Moreover, in the absence of systematic ethnographic data gathered in situ, and a failure to study the rich oral and written textual basis of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, its festivals have been consistently misrepresented as manifestations of the cults of territorial deities and spirits of the proximate environment, but especially of mountain deities.75 The Indian scholar R.K. Billorey was the first to recognise the Srid-pa’i lha cult for what it is – revitalisation of a human community via its divine ancestors. He attended a Pla festival staged by the Lhau community at Tawang in the northern Mon-yul Corridor during the mid-1970s, and characterised “the Phlha is an ancestral god”, and that rites addressed to it are “a means by which new supernatural forces can come down to the world of human beings”, while “People desiring children seek the blessings of the deities”.76 The clue that worship of Srid-pa’i lha may have been a widespread and distinctive regional phenomenon associated with specific, historically attested descent groups first came from the British historian Michael Aris. He drew careful attention to origin myths of gDung families or lineages in eastern Bhutan, and the significance of two of the

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

main Srid-pa’i lha deities within the region, namely ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gu-se Lang-ling, as divine apical ancestors of the gDung. This perspective was usefully elaborated by the American historian John Ardussi to investigate the link between mediaeval Shar Dung populations of lHo-brag in southernmost Central Tibet, and the later gDung identified groups in Bhutan.77 Based upon fieldwork within the western Kheng region, the Bhutanese researcher Lham Dorji was the first to recognise a sub-regional level of relatedness among similar Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals with different local names,78 albeit that he did not define them as part of any larger, related phenomenon of far wider significance.

Studies of Regional Ritual At the time of writing, the general phenomenon of rites practiced at the community level in eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor remained neglected beyond piecemeal descriptions for but a few scattered sites and events.79 Nevertheless, one analytical framework has so far been proposed for considering community rites within the region, although the actual data it is based upon are not only limited to certain sub-regions of Bhutan, but also fail to cover the full spectrum of community ritual events that can be observed on the ground. French anthropologist Françoise Pommaret tentatively characterised the rubric of “local community rituals” as involving “non-Buddhist practices/ practitioners”, and placed particular emphasis on the category name “Bon-chos”.80 While this description might initially appear of high relevance for study of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, it is not. Pommaret’s framework successfully accommodates rites related to cults of territorial deities and spirits associated with the proximate environment, yet it is unable to account for Srid-pa’i lha worship. Most significantly, its assessment of what might constitute both a “community” and any ceremonial groups within it omits all reference to the cult’s most fundamental social feature, namely shared descent and hereditary roles among its participants. Moreover, Pommaret’s highlighted referent “Bon-chos” was not

recorded in any of the ethnographic records and local ritual texts collected from Srid-pa’i lha worship communities across the research region. Finally, her criteria for “local community rituals” that “There is [sic.] usually no ritual texts...and the transmission of the songs and invocations is done orally” does not describe the highly literate Sridpa’i lha cult based upon collections of written manuscripts used by specialists who represent a regionally unique type of ‘text-reading shaman’ (see ch. 7). Along with other key considerations,81 including different cosmological orientations and goals, this fundamental mismatch with Pommaret’s “local community rituals” framework does usefully highlight Srid-pa’i lha worship as representing a third and distinctive form of communal ritual within the research region. On the one hand, Srid-pa’i lha rites, which remain free of Buddhist influence, exist parallel to a plethora of local cults of territorial deities and spirits that are associated with the proximate environment. On the other hand, Srid-pa’i lha rites are also parallel to forms of village Buddhism, and with which cults of environmental and territorial deities so often overlap due to their frequent incorporation into the sphere of ritual activity undertaken by a range of Buddhist specialists.

Old Manuscript Sources During field research, I photographically copied around 100 unique, local manuscripts written in Tibetan script that record the ritual texts chanted by bon shamans during Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals. These manuscripts, approximately half of which are cited herein and listed in the References, are the primary written sources used throughout this book. In addition, there exists a small corpus of older Tibetan language manuscripts that are directly relevant to understanding those bon shaman documents. These texts proved crucially important for the research process. In addition to their content, all these documents are of further significance due to their provenance. With either absolute certainty or rather high degrees of probability, we can locate virtually all of these older manuscripts and their composition along the southernmost margins of the central Tibetan

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Plateau, directly adjacent to the current distribution zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship, even sometimes within it. Limiting my consultation of key, older texts on the basis of this geographical provenance has been an intentional methodological principle of this study. The additional manuscripts are as follows.

Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel Manuscript The manuscript Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel lha mchod rgyas pa or Extensive Elimination and Offering [Rites] for the lHa of the Four Groups of Little Humans (hereafter Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel) unambiguously belongs to the Srid-pa’i lha cult. To date, it is the only example of a cult text known to exist beyond the immediate research region of eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. The rites recorded within the text most closely represent the style of Srid-pa’i lha worship currently observable along parts of the upper Kuri Chu valley in north-eastern Bhutan. While we have no indication of the age of this manuscript, the Tibetan Tibetologist Samten Karmay who located and published the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel in a 2002 anthology, described it as being “of ancient origins”.82 In chapters 7 and 14, I translate and analyse substantial sections of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel as a Srid-pa’i lha cult document.

dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che Manuscripts In 2007, the Tibetan scholars Pa-tshab Pa-sangs dBang’dus and Glang-ru Nor-bu Tshe-ring published manuscripts recording ritual antecedent narratives and rites discovered during the previous year in the ruins of the ‘great shrine’ (’bum pa che) located at dGa’-thang in the ancient district of gTam-shul (i.e., old lTam-shul, modern Tsonyi), on the border of eastern lHo-brag in southernmost Central Tibet.83 Prior to any radiometric dating, a consensus among experts in the field is that these manuscripts may date at earliest to the tenth century.84 However, due to their content, language and similarity to the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts (see below) I more conservatively place the dGa’-thang corpus

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in the eleventh century period until empirically based dating becomes available.85 These dGa’-thang ritual texts resonate to a certain extent, but also differ from, Old Tibetan documents mentioning bon and gshen ritual specialists discovered in the Mogou grottos at Dunhuang in the Hexi Corridor of western Gansu. According to my analysis in chapter 15, some of the language and compositional structure in the dGa’-thang rabs depends upon sophisticated, later reuse of earlier Old Tibetan vocabulary, narrative motifs and identities from Dunhuang documents. The texts themselves and their site of discovery proved to be of considerable importance for understanding the past of both my research region and the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself. Together with the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts of comparable age introduced below, they are the oldest known examples of such mundane rites discovered at any location directly upon the actual Tibetan Plateau. By contrast, Dunhuang itself is an oasis in the deserts of the southern Silk Road in east Turkestan, some 1500 kilometres north of gTam-shul and well to the north of the entire Tibetan Plateau system. Unlike Dunhuang, dGa’-thang is a mere fifty kilometres from the northern locations of worship communities practising the Srid-pa’i lha cult. During premodern times, this represented a straightforward journey between the two areas along a single river valley system. Moreover, these old ritual manuscripts have exactly the form of small, handmade booklets as used today by bon shamans practising in the cult, and their respective texts even share certain orthographic peculiarities in common (see appx. J). Two manuscripts from the dGa’-thang collection are of high interest in relation to the cult. One text, described as Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, or Methods of Subduing rNel dri, records a collection of rabs offering models for conducting exorcisms and purification rites to combat negative posthumous spirits who appear in the wake of culturally problematic deaths. 86 The second is a series of Byol and Ltas ngan narratives within a collection called Gnag rabs. These set out mythical precedents and techniques for ‘averting by byol [rites]’ (byol gyis zlogs)87 various ‘calamitous’88 spirit forces who are ‘bad omens’ (ltas ngan). Of additional interest are aspects of the modest Gser skyems kyi rabs or

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

Narrative of Golden Libation as the final text in this Byol rabs series. All these old myths and rite descriptions are replete with names, terms, rite techniques, cosmological systems, myth motifs and narrative structure which also occur in the same form in the main ritual texts employed by bon shamans within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Close commonalities between dGa’-thang materials and texts used in the cult, many of them unique to the two sets of sources, will be pointed out and examined where relevant throughout subsequent chapters of this work, while chapter 15 presents a more detailed critical study of aspects of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs.

Ste’u and Sha slungs Manuscript A third, only partially intact manuscript first published in 2013 records untitled, anonymous texts for two mundane rites of great significance for demonstrating the oldest known cultural background of aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. One rite I will term ste’u, the other rite sha slungs. The manuscript recording both rites is uniquely illustrated with small colour paintings. 89 Radiometric dating of a sample from the paper places this manuscript within the 1010-1070 CE range.90 According to my analysis in chapter 15, the ste’u rite describes post-mortem procedures for conducting new human lives into the world from a realm of lha ancestors who are up the vertical cosmic axis. The sha slungs rite describes invocation of a range of living beings to protect new lives as they come down to the terrestrial realm. I demonstrate that both texts also depend upon the same sophisticated reuse of earlier Old Tibetan vocabulary, narrative motifs and identities as do the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs narratives from dGa’-thang. I examine the common cosmological framing and references occurring in ste’u and sha slungs rites together with those in the approximately contemporary Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs. Appendix J presents evidence for assigning the origins of the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript to a common geographical region including lHo-brag, gTam-shul – as site of discovery for the dGa’-thang manuscripts – and the northern distribution zone of the Srid-pa’i lha cult.

Thus, the above grouping of eleventh century manuscripts represent outstanding and unique evidence for very longterm continuities of myths and mundane rites within the same small sub-region of highland interface between the southernmost Tibetan Plateau and immediately adjacent high Himalayan valleys. They attest the earliest traces of the view of the world and goals we still find today within the Srid-pa’i lha cult.

Illustrated Manuscript Gzer myig Two further manuscripts in standard Classical Tibetan language and obviously written or compiled by religious authors also proved valuable for research on the Srid-pa’i lha cult. One is the old, illustrated manuscript Gzer myig in the collection of the Berlin State Library under the auspices of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation.91 While the date of fixation of the Gzer mig text in relation to other early g.Yung-drung Bon sources is “hopelessly entangled and remains obscure” according to the most recent critical assessment,92 it is the Berlin Gzer myig manuscript as a material object which is of most significance for study of the cult. The manuscript has been described as giving “an altogether archaic impression and could well date from the fourteenth or fifteenth century.”93 Although we currently have no empirically based dating, this manuscript’s geographical origins appear more certain. The British colonial scholar of Tibet Laurence Austine Waddell (1854-1938) collected it sometime around the beginning of the twentieth century. Waddell made several clandestine visits into the Gro-mo valley area of southernmost Tibet immediately north of Sikkim and adjacent to the western borders of Bhutan during the late nineteenth century. This was an area he continued to visit and pass through over nearly a decade, especially when he served as cultural consultant on the 1903-1904 Younghusband invasion of southern-central Tibet that passed through and was sometimes stationed in the Gro-mo valley. Although his records are now lost, Waddell most probably obtained the manuscript Gzer myig on one of his visits into Gro-mo, where some small g.Yung-drung Bon monastic and temple sites exist.94 The two-volume Waddell manuscript

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contains dozens of miniature colour illustrations, yet only a few have so far been subject to careful analysis.95 Several of these old Gzer myig illustrations record a unique material culture of ritual that is not described within the accompanying classical text itself. Rather, it appears the local scribe or artist who was responsible for them has depicted details of rites, ritual objects and participants’ costumes familiar from his own local environment at the time. In fact, the content of these particular paintings very closely matches what can be observed at cult festivals for Srid-pa’i lha worship today in northern parts of my research region. These images are mainly analysed in chapters 6 and 17.

Bshad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu Manuscript The second manuscript is Bshad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu (hereafter Bshad mdzod), with various copies known to exist.96 This so-called ‘encyclopaedia’ was composed during the late 1400s by an author/compiler whom American Tibetologist Gene Smith identified as coming from Gru-shul, and who was either a member of a princely family from that area, or a lama or household priest of such a family.97 The small district of Gru-shul in southernmost Central Tibet is located between the eastern boundaries of lHo-brag, the north-eastern corner of Bhutan and Mon mTsho-sna further east. Gru-shul and the two latter areas are those most directly adjacent to both the known distribution of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and the site of discovery of the dGa’-thang manuscripts just to the north at gTamshul. The Bshad mdzod is significant for studying the cult for various reasons. Most importantly, its author/compiler gives an unorthodox and unique account of what he called Bon ‘teachings’ (bstan). It demonstrates beyond doubt that aspects of, and references to materials from the cult were circulating within the author’s Gru-shul milieu during and certainly prior to the 1400s. Moreover, the author of the Bshad mdzod recorded a redaction of the origin myth of the progenitor lha emperor he described as the Grags-pa Bonlugs (see below), which forms part of the same pool of narrative materials reflected in the cult. His text is also the oldest to cite the legend of local descent from an obscure Tibetan

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prince called lHa-sras gTsang-ma, an origin motif employed several centuries later by certain lineages represented in the Rgyal rigs (see below). Aspects of the Bshad mdzod description of Bon are investigated in chapters 4 and 14.

Rgyal rigs Manuscripts The late-seventeenth century Rgyal rigs origin narratives and genealogies for eastern Bhutan and the northern and central Mon-yul Corridor continue to be the most significant source describing aspects of past social history in this region. It is also a complex, composite text that evolved over time and space, and the use of which requires ongoing critical assessment. For my study, I resorted to six Rgyal rigs texts including three redactions already published from Bhutan and Lhasa, and three locally written manuscripts collected directly from Morshing and Thempang villages located in West Kameng (India), and from Bhutan. Authorship and dating of the older base text of the Rgyal rigs are well-established thanks to careful studies by Michael Aris and John Ardussi,98 while understandings of its four significantly different redactions have remained less well developed. Ardussi considers the differences between versions probably reflect localised redactions and transmissions by different lineages or populations across the region,99 and evidence within the versions certainly suggests he is correct. The different versions of the Shar sDe-rang genealogy supplement included in some redactions were likely a later addition of the eighteenth century specific to the central Mon-yul Corridor and a neighbouring area of east Bhutan. 100 I have used the Rgyal rigs extensively to inform my part IV and chapter 16 (cf. Appendices G and H) due to the older versions of origin myths, toponyms and identities of clans or descent groups its redactions preserve.

Early Buddhist Sources from Southernmost Central Tibet I consulted published copies of the early religious history by Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer (1124-92?),101 as well as an old manuscript autobiography of Gu-ru Chos-dbang

Overv iew of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

(1212-70/73?) from Bhutan. Both these historical figures are best known for their formalisation of the early rNying-mapa school of Tibetan Buddhism. However, more important for this research is the fact they were both native sons of, and active within the same region of southernmost Central Tibet from which all the manuscripts I consulted have a confirmed or a highly likely provenance. Moreover, both these religious figures lived around the era in which the dGa’-thang and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts listed above must have been in circulation within the same subregion, and perhaps not too long after they had been composed. Nyang-ral’s history recorded one of the earliest dateable redactions of the origin myth of the progenitor lha emperor, a narrative that is populated by a cast of bon po ritual specialists. For all the above reasons, certain references in these works are of high comparative interest. I also consulted published editions based upon rare manuscripts of two ca. mid-thirteenth century histories attributed to mKhas-pa lDe’u and lDe’u Jo-sras. 102 Guntram Hazod has begun making a strong case that the provenance of both these lDe’u histories and their main source materials was in southern Tibet, while their authors or compilers may have come from southernmost Central Tibet immediately north of the Mon-yul Corridor.103 Both lDe’u texts record closely related, early redactions of the origin myth of the progenitor lha emperor, described as the traditions of gSang-ba Bon-lugs and Grags-pa Bon-lugs,104 respectively. Both narratives are redolent with references related to the Srid-pa’i lha cult. I have resorted to them at points throughout both volumes of this work.

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Pa rt I I

Cosmos a n d My th

2.

Flows of Life in th e Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

The ritual texts – primarily ritual antecedent narratives or rabs – used by bon shamans, together with the performed actions of rites and prescribed behaviours occurring during calendric Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals, all represent and reflect a particular cosmos. By that latter term, I mean a set of shared references people employ to envisage and represent the universe and themselves as a part of it. The full range of cosmological references for the cult is most coherently and publically present during communal festivals, which are usually staged only once – or even less frequently in some cases – per year. These festivals are thus an exceptional time. During everyday life, many of the concepts, images and identities from the cult are seldom, if ever, invoked. Beyond this, there are other representations and practices evident in the ways in which worship communities live, and how they account for events in daily life, and these also form part of the cultural background underpinning cult practices and concepts. All of this constitutes a set of reference points which participants in the cult can, depending upon circumstances, draw upon and use to explain what ‘life’ is in terms of origins, vital human existence and activity, and how lives can be reproduced and multiplied, or at very least recharged with a certain quality of vitality. It must be emphasised that most non-specialist participants in Srid-pa’i lha rites are neither articulate nor particularly reflective when it comes to discussing basic cosmological categories, such as the vital forces enabling life, reckoning of time and space beyond discrete scales of immediate experience, or discoursing on the nature of the human body. Rather, one can discern patterns and gain references only by repeated exposure to local practices and discourse. I was able to gradually derive basic cosmological

references from features of the agrarian cycle, individual life cycle transitions or cases of illness and how they were talked about and dealt with, attitudes towards the natural environment and wildlife, off-hand remarks, jokes, aphorisms and folk stories, and the like, and of course by attending Srid-pa’i lha festivals themselves. Some topics, such as the post-mortem status of human existence, are almost impenetrable beyond glib, normative images repeated from Buddhist teachings that certain people have been exposed to, if even those are forthcoming.

2.1

Mobile and Divisible Vitality

The central notion in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and one which informs its participants’ aspiration for revitalisation, is that vitality, as the basis of life that brings persons into being and animates them as productive and reproducing entities, is both a mobile and a divisible principle, and moreover one that can be shared. This form of vitality is also enduring and continues to exist after physical death of the body. There is widespread regional acknowledgement that each person is animated by the presence of a mobile vitality principle. The colloquial names for this principle across a group of East Bodish languages figuring in the cult are reasonably cognate. They include pla or pra (Dzala), pla (Dakpa) and cha or pcha (Kurtöp, written phya1), while in some communities la (formally written bla) is used for the same concept, and colloquial Khengkha uses sok (written srog in local ritual texts from Kheng), with these two latter terms representing borrowings from Tibetic languages like Chocha-ngacha, Dzongkha and Tibetan. For simplicity in the following discussions, I will use the form pla. The

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term pla and all its cognates are often conveniently yet inadequately translated by ‘soul’. For English speakers with any European and Judeo-Christian cultural heritage, talk of a soul in the world of everyday life – as opposed to religiously informed eschatology – frequently implies a unitary, stationary and embodied principle that is exclusive to an individual. This not only contrasts strongly with notions of the pla being both highly mobile and divisible, and able to exist and frequently move between embodied and disembodied states, but also the idea that it can be shared between certain beings in some manner. Acceptance of a mobile vitality principle is also found among all other highland populations speaking TibetoBurman languages and maintaining versions of an ‘interregional shamanic tradition-complex’ along the extended eastern Himalayas. 2 Their ideas and associated practices are far closer to those found among Srid-pa’i lha worship communities than the concept of bla found among Tibetic speakers across the Tibetan Plateau. The ethnography of Tibetan bla reveals it to be a unitary and singular principle, while Himalayan peoples almost always define the mobile vitality principle as being divisible and multiple. This distinction is crucial for understandings many aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. If the pla is divisible and thus multiple, it can exist inside a person and simultaneously be elsewhere outside of them, without this state necessarily leading to any negative consequences, such as illness, weakness or lifelessness. It also implies that different beings, such as divine ancestors and their human descendants, and agnatic kin with the same ‘bone’ transmission, can all simultaneously share or participate in ‘divisibles’ of a common vitality principle, and hence be related through this mechanism. The same divisibility of pla also underpins key practices of the bon shamans who perform Sridpa’i lha rites. In the research region, one often hears dreams explained in terms of the sleeper’s pla (or its divisibles) wandering away from the body at night, and that the sleeper’s dream content is what the wandering pla experiences while outside of the person’s body.3 Sleeping and dreaming are not considered pathological conditions just because pla is

46

outside the body, although a sleeper is recognised as being potentially vulnerable precisely because of their wandering pla. A very common representation of the pla outside the body found across the research region is that it takes the form of a small insect, mostly a fly, but also a spider in certain contexts. In some areas the appearance of a white spider in the house is regarded as a sign of an impending visit by someone positive (black means the opposite), being an advance manifestation of the visitor’s pla at the destination. There are recurring folk narratives in which a sleeping person’s pla in the form of a fly or spider departs the body via the open mouth and is caught by someone else and trapped inside a bamboo tube, during which time the sleeper is unable to awaken until the insect is released and can return to their body. Once again, equating the mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’ with small, but especially f lying – or dangling in the case of spiders – insects and other creatures is found among all highland populations speaking non-Tibetic Tibeto-Burman languages and maintaining versions of an ‘inter-regional shamanic tradition-complex’ along the extended eastern Himalayas. I will discuss this further in chapters 4 and 13. The question of how many pla ‘divisibles’ might exist is a moot point as far as most people are concerned. Various articulate ritual specialists I interviewed, who claimed to be able to perceive their clients’ or patients’ wandering or missing pla, considered there to be a total of seven or nine pla per person. As we will see in chapter 7, theories of dreaming and other ideas and images concerning the divisible and mobile pla are often used analogically by bon shamans to explain their own practice of undertaking verbal ritual journeys up to the sky world and back. In other words, they would consider that they practice what is sometimes described as ‘soul travel’ in the literature on Himalayan and premodern Siberian shamans. There is a complex set of associations made between the mobile vitality principle, the head and states of consciousness. Informants speaking Dzala and Dakpa who refer to the mobile vitality principle as pla, also use the same word to express mental states. For instance, the Dakpa expression we can translate as ‘fear’ is pla kyagu, literally meaning

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

‘the pla is weak/has moved’.4 Linguist Tim Bodt informed me that pla can have the meaning ‘shadow’ in expressions of mental apprehension in the Mon-yul Corridor, while the linguist George van Driem reported pla to mean ‘mind’ among his Dzala speaking informants.5 One point that comes out clearly in these local ideas, and which also resonates regionally with notions among other Himalayan highland societies speaking Tibeto-Burman languages, is the stress upon the relationship between the mobile vitality principle and the head.6 Thus, the mouth and the top of the head at the fontanelle (CT gtsug) are invariably the conduits through which mobile vitality in all forms both enters and exists the body. This notion is central to various aspects of ritual practice in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, including the transfer of vitality via consumable substances, the wearing of items of ritual costume, and special ‘planting’ (btsugs) rites to retain vitality within the body. While the head is often viewed as the ‘seat’ or container of the pla, some informants extend its localisation between the head and the heart area. The Tibetan concept of thugs, an honorific that can mean both ‘heart’ and the ‘consciousness’ or ‘mental principle’,7 is also relevant here. Indeed, in the ritual texts of Srid-pa’i lha specialists within the Dakpa and Dzala speaking zone, the word thugs is sometimes synonymous with other terms for the mobile vitality principle, when its loss from the body precipitates a crisis. Another recurrent idea frequently expressed in local myths and ritual practice is that the mobile vitality principle can be placed in various types of containers for protection or storage. In some contexts, these also equate to a simulacrum for a person. These vitality containers are invariably made of natural wood or woody materials and plant parts, primarily bamboo tubes, baskets of woven cane which symbolically and functionally resemble protective ‘nests’, and the dried, hollow calabash or gourd. As with all the other aspects related to the mobile vitality principle mentioned above, the ‘life basket’ and reference to these other types of woody tube or nest-like receptacles for vitality occur along the extended eastern Himalayas, as far east as those regions of the eastern Tibetan Plateau Marches where Naic and Qiangic languages are spoken, and westwards as far as

western central Nepal. While a variety of examples from the research region will be mentioned in this book, one can note instances from right along this Himalayan distribution. Among the Gurung/Tamu far to the west, a bamboo tube containing nails and hair of a deceased person represents them in an effigy into which their mobile vitality principle is called to enter during post-mortem rites,8 for Tani speaking highlanders of western Arunachal Pradesh the bamboo tube is the most common mythical container from which new or revived lives emerge,9 while the woven cane basket of the Ssú life gods is installed in the dwelling space of every traditional Naxi house far to the east.10 There are several other common natural objects or materials which mobile vitality is strongly associated with in both Srid-pa’i lha rites and myths. One is sheep’s wool, which features in braided cords or threads thought of as ‘roads’ or conduits for vitality, and in the woollen headgear of ritual specialists. Wool – and the sheep in general – is intimately related to the productive, fertilising life power g.yang and the life force srog within the cult. Another class of natural objects associated with mobile vitality are trees of certain species, or their branches and leaves used in rites and for altar structures. This includes ritual objects that are analogues of the tree. For example, erect wooden ‘tree’ poles cut from real trees and planted in the ground are used, with their stems trimmed leaving only the uppermost leafy branches attached and most often the bark removed. There are also wooden ritual arrows, and even pointed, pyramidal or conical ritual cakes that represent trees. It is always the tops or apical points of these objects that serve as the main ‘seat’ of vitality. Fresh f lowers are frequently used upon altar structures or handheld as seats for the deities when they arrive for a rite (pl. 4). Flowers are strongly associated with creation and vitality within the cult. In myths, they are some of the first objects to appear in the universe and are origin points for appearance of first beings in the cosmogony, while in rites at some sites they are plucked and used to represent the ‘aspirations’ (smon lam) for revitalisation of festival participants (see pl. 247). Mythical precedents for this symbolic value of flowers are very old in ‘bon’identified narratives,11 while cognate regional occurrences of flowers directly related to rites for vitality and fertility

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in shamanic tradition-complexes of the extended eastern Himalayas are widespread.12

most clearly articulated in northern worship communities closest to the Tibetan Plateau.

Smaller stones are often used as talismanic substitutes for living beings or their mobile vitality during Srid-pa’i lha rites, while larger rocks and boulders frequently mark mythical sites associated with ancestral deities and the original arrival of their vitality and fertility. Once again, all these ideas and cultural practices generally resonate with what has been recorded from the wider region of the Tibetan Plateau 13 and among highland speakers of TibetoBurman languages along the extended eastern Himalaya.14 It is only in the detailed specificity of their characteristics and application that we can discern patterns shared with other cults, rites and ritual specialists.

Throughout the regions where Dakpa, Dzala and Kurtöp are spoken, Srid-pa’i lha have a formal title that varies a little across the different languages and dialects. We find the spoken forms Pla (written pla and phla) in Dakpa and Dzala, and Cha or Pcha (written phya or bya but of variable orthography)16 in Kurtöp. For example, in local ritual texts chanted for rites, we find deity names and references with the written forms Phya Grang-bya-mo, dGung-ma Phla, Pla Mo, and Pla dGur-zhe in manuscripts, and in spoken forms used by informants such as Pcha Drangchamo, Konlo Pla Dakpa and Pla Ming Emay. Thus, the ancestral sky lha’s title is always the local word for ‘mobile vitality’. 17 In the same areas, we also find the bon shamans in the Srid-pa’i lha cult being designated in the same manner. The terms plami, chami or pchami applied locally to bon shamans all literally mean ‘mobile vitality man’, while the calendric festivals they preside over are often simply named Pla, Cha or Pcha.

2.2 The Srid-pa’i lha and Vitality According to all the myths of origins maintained by communities participating in the cult, the Srid-pa’i lha deities of the sky are themselves the apical ancestors of human descent groups, such as clans, lineages and other units. Thus, periodically seeking revitalisation using rites addressed to the lha represents a means of participating once again in primordial vitality, of sharing and recharging the original forces of life still present in the ancestral realm of the sky where they abide, and in a sense a return to the very beginnings of life itself as the source of renewal. The lha are explicitly related to ‘life’ and the ‘living’ (gson) as opposed to ‘death’ and the ‘dead’ (gshin). For example, in a rite from Kurtö, the ritual specialist makes this appeal which is typical of the cult’s ritual texts, ‘Today, open the door of the lha of the living! Today, close the door of the tomb of the dead!’15 In many rites, the verb gso ba and its forms (e.g., sos) meaning to ‘nourish’, ‘revive’, ‘refresh’ or even ‘rekindle’ and ‘stir up again’ (as with a fire), define the vitalising effect of lha upon those who worship them. The ancestral status of the Srid-pa’i lha and their role as progenitor beings will be discussed below when introducing their identities. Together with this profile, as we will see below, the lha are directly and literally identified with mobile vitality in their titles, and this feature of the cult is

48

This semantic and mythico-ritual equation of divine ancestral and human mobile vitality informs a central idea about kinship or relatedness and the definition of ‘life’ itself. Srid-pa’i lha ancestors and their human descendants all share or participate in some common mobile vitality, they are all hereditarily related and thus, in the regional idiom of descent reckoning, they all ‘share the same bone’. By implication, the ‘stuff ’ of bone transmission that relates persons and lha as agnates is mobile and divisible vitality or pla and its equivalents. Chapter 15 surveys evidence of a thousand-year old cycle of existence in southernmost Central Tibet that was a precursor to the Srid-pa’i lha cult and which strongly implies these same ideas. Maurice Bloch summarised all these types of ideas by what he termed the “transcendental social” or a “transcendental network”18 seamlessly incorporating living persons, the deceased who are their ancestors and primordial ancestral beings. Similar ideas exist in other Himalayan highland societies. For instance, the Mewahang Rai have the concept of same ‘ancestral soul’ that Martin Gaenszle explained as “a collective aspect of personhood” which is a transcendent identity

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

related back to primordial origins, while Charlotte Hardman described the Lohorung Rai concept of saya as simultaneously being the “internal link with the ancestors” and the “vitality principle”.19 The premodern Ao Naga took the ‘soul’ to have a complex dual character consisting of three ‘personal spirits’ (tiya) living in the sky, and three (two for women) ‘personal souls’ (tanela) localised in the head. 20 The sky was the ultimate realm of ancestors, and the tiya of diverse character who dwell there determine the destinies of those humans whom they are associated with once they take birth. Moreover, the Ao held that the divisible being of persons and a specific type of animal – the mithun forest ox – was shared and spread across a ‘transcendental network’ between ancestral sky and earthly human social domains. Summarising earlier ethnographies, Marion Wettstein reported that, “among the Ao one of the soul components is said to be a mithun in the sky-world – and vice-versa, a soul component of the sky people kotakr is an earthly mithun”, and that these ideas had implications for the culture of animal sacrifice.21 There seems no doubt that the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s ontology of mobile, divisible and shared vitality, as life’s very basis, is most typical of these types of highland societies that speak Tibeto-Burman languages along the extended eastern Himalayas. In the language of the cult, human descent from Srid-pa’i lha ancestors and thus their common genealogy is defined by the expression srid pa’i lha rgyud (or lha rgyud for short). While the term rabs can inform ‘genealogy’ (pha rabs, mes rabs, gdung rabs, etc.) in terms of origins and the units in any series developed from them (e.g., generations), rgyud and its synonyms (skye rgyud, rus rgyud, pha rgyud, etc.) more strongly emphasise the continuities in relatedness, and hence the common transmission shared across and running between generations. In English, ‘genealogy’ is defined as a line of descent traced continuously from an ancestor, and the expression srid pa’i lha rgyud incorporates this. In genealogical discourse within the cult, the word rgyud is far more prevalent because it expresses the flow of shared life and vitalising forces between beings that is the cult’s principal ritual interest. In some contexts, rgyud can be meaningfully translated as ‘stream’, thus joining a range of fluidand flow-related vocabulary and images used to refer to life

and its dynamics. In general, all forms of revitalisation rites, their associated myths, and the social organisation of ritual participants into ceremonial groups within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, depend upon these ontological equations. They are also significant from a comparative perspective. Ethnographically, we find the same or very similar ideas and identities among certain other highland populations ranged at specific points along the extended eastern Himalayas. Among the Naxi of north-west Yunnan, the male sky being Ô-gkò-âw-gkò is regarded as the first cause of phenomenal existence, while the Ô element in his name simultaneously signifies ‘deity’, ‘bone’, ‘clan’ and, with a slight tonal shift, also ‘vitality principle’ (or ‘soul’ in the literature), as well as male ‘semen’, and it is to the Naxi sky ancestors that revitalisation requests are periodically addressed (see ch. 17). 22 The Drung settled along the borderlands between north-west Yunnan and northern Burma have the male sky ancestral being Gvmeu, who is described as the ‘breeder of human souls’ (pvlà, i.e., the ‘vitality principle’), and who is also ritually addressed for revitalisation. 23 Among the Mewahang Rai of east Nepal, a male clan ancestral deity named Rùrùhaŋ, meaning ‘king of souls’, keeps the lawa or so-called ‘free soul’ aspect of human vitality in his sky realm, and this must be periodically retrieved and brought down to human worshippers using rites.24 All such examples point to ancient and the more distant origins of the cult of Srid-pa’i lha, and its migrating ancestral human carriers along the extended eastern Himalayas, which are topics addressed comparatively in Part V. Moreover, a relationship between the lha and bla concepts has often been hypothetically posed in the scholarship on Tibetan religions.25 As with the direct connection between Pla ancestral beings and pla vitality in the research region, a range of traces of overlaps and shared meanings across deity category markers and vitality concepts do occur in the Tibetan context (e.g., dgra lha and dgra bla, sku bla and sku phy[w]a, or the frequent ambivalence between phya and phywa, amongst others).26 Data from the Srid-pa’i lha cult, some proximate origins for which are doubtless to be sought upon the southernmost Tibetan Plateau, provide an excellent example of what these traces already suggested to earlier scholars of Tibetan religions.

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2.3 Vitality’s Modes The animating force vitality, being inherently mobile, moves and is transferred in a variety of ways within the cosmos. In the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the references to these movements and transfers encompass both the largest cosmic scale of the universe on the one hand, and the microcosm of the human body on the other. The process of transferring mobile vitality is described in terms of various modes, mediums and agencies, which together effect revitalisation. A recurrent image in myths and ritual texts is that vitality flows like fluids, and sometimes as fish who swim in the course of the rivers, or it flies, floats or glides and is thus compared with the movement of birds, or the wind. Pla and cognate terms describe the mobile vitality principle as the enduring life basis shared among ancestors and their descendants, and as involved in more long-term ‘flows’ in space and time. However, we find instead a gendered pair of terms, tshe for males and g.yang for females, designating the vital forces or powers that directly revitalise and fertilise already living persons within the temporary and recurring timeframe of the calendric Srid-pa’i lha festival. Moreover, vitality can be transferred by procreation involving lha and human partners, which is expressed in two special ritual forms. Vitality is also transferred via ingestible ritual substances, and through contact with material objects believed touched by the Srid-pa’i lha.

2.4 Flows of Tshe, g.Yang and Phya The primary purpose of worshipping Srid-pa’i lha is to obtain the main (re)vitalising powers of life from them. In the oral chants and written manuscripts of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, these life powers are consistently described by the paired terms tshe and g.yang. There is a localised exception in the Kurtö region of north-east Bhutan with use of the term phya (spoken cha/pcha), while dpal can more rarely occur as a synonym for tshe, g.yang and phya in some ritual texts. These first three terms are all close cognates, just as they are in older Tibetan language ritual texts where they often appear in paired expressions or as compounds (e.g., tshe phya, phy[w]a tshe and phy[w]a g.yang). 27 There

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is no well-established or unequivocal basis to distinguish between tshe, g.yang and phya in most non-Buddhist narrative and ritual contexts addressing mundane concerns, and the ethnographic evidence underscores this. The point of Srid-pa’i lha myths and rites is to make new tshe and g.yang or phya directly available to worshippers for revitalisation of themselves, their descent groups and the domestic and wild animals upon which human livelihoods depend. Hence, life powers have their ultimate source in, and always flow down from, the sky world above and the lha who dwell there. These same basic concepts are also consistently found in a set of older non-Buddhist myths and rites from beyond our research area, as well as being recorded in the ethnography of mundane rites practiced by certain societies along the extended eastern Himalayas. Since the mythical and ritual significance of this cosmological contextualisation of life powers is so central to Srid-pa’i lha worship, and because it has often been passed over by other commentators, I will cite a few brief examples here. The Mu ye pra phud phya’i mthar thug is an older Tibetan language manuscript of uncertain origins containing myths and rites addressing mundane concerns. It states that the ultimate mythical source of phya (and phywa) and its cognates bcud and g.yang are from the Phywa beings or Srid-pa lha of the sky. According to the text, ‘The meaning of the name “phya” itself is that it came to earth from the sky’, and we find meteorological allusions to clouds of phya, and to the bcud, meaning the falling ‘rain’ they shed, being collected in vases – another central symbol of life. 28 This old myth is recalling the fact that phya, like mu, is an ancient word designating the ‘sky’ and its beings in Tibeto-Burman languages such as Qiang which left cultural traces across the Tibetan Plateau.29 In a similar text first introducing Yab-bla bDal-drug and other Phywa or Srid-pa’i lha, we find it stated that, ‘They are the masters of phywa and g.yang. Moreover, the meaning of “phywa” is life which is everlasting (g.yung drung gi tshe), and “g.yang” means the essence (bcud) of the very same.’30 A Tibetan language manuscript from highland Nepal thematically related to those just cited records a myth of a primordial time when humans lacked phya and animals lacked g.yang. The hero of the tale must obtain a miraculous stag whose body parts serve as the ‘basis’ (gzhi and brten)

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

for these life powers. For each of the deer’s body parts, the ritual specialist then repeats a refrain about origins: As for the origin, it was at the beginning of the world age. As for the material, the material was the eternal deer. As for supporting, it supported the phya and g.yang. As for chanting [the rites], it was I, the human gshen, who chanted. Just as it was in the past for the phya of Srid-pa Yab-lha bDal-drug, So this evening, too, will it be for our beneficent [ritual] patron. As for the descent, it is phya and g.yang that will descend. The descent of phya is not bad; the descent of phya is fine. Call khu ye for the fine descent of phya!31 The verb bab/babs ‘to descend’ here generally describes what ‘flows/falls down’ and is always used in relation to rain, hail and snow, and downward flows of water. The conception of essential life powers flowing or flying directly downwards from the sky or ‘upper world’ is also evident in rites among certain Himalayan populations, and these strongly parallel rites and ritual language we find in Srid-pa’i lha worship. The same image occurs in Old Tibetan documents when the lha ruler’s descent down to earth is described as the ‘rain of the protector of the earth’.32 In the context of Srid-pa’i lha rites, the pair of male tshe and female g.yang, along with non-gendered phya, are sky-originated life powers that must be understood as directly related to fertility, procreation and thus maintenance of the vitality of descent groups and the individuals that comprise them. Other populations who maintain myths of sky ancestry articulated within vertically-oriented cosmologies indicating downward flows of fertility and vitality have their own paired, gendered terms to describe them, with the example of the Naxi given in chapter 17. Both the terms tshe and g.yang already appear familiar from the literature of Tibetan and Himalayan Studies. However, in any particular ethnographic context – and relevant data from right throughout

the entire region still remains patchy and of variable quality – their meanings can never be taken for granted and are thus not necessarily open to easy generalisation.

Tshe Tshe is a Tibetan term literally meaning ‘life’, and this is how it is understood in Srid-pa’i lha worship. However, it is not to be confused with the very prevalent astrological notion of the ‘life-span’ and ritual concerns about ‘longevity’ in terms of measured time. These latter notions have come to play significant roles in the ritual cultures promoted by the two Tibetan salvation religions. Barbara Gerke surveyed the Tibetan Buddhist terminologies related to tshe in medical, astrological, divinatory and ritual contexts, and found that they all express the life-span as a temporal concept in one way or another.33 This may be because Tibetan tshe also means ‘time’ in an abstract sense, yet words for this abstract category are often not present in non-Tibetic Himalayan highland languages. In the Srid-pa’i lha cult, tshe is a vitality concept explicitly linked to adult males and refers most often to patrilineal fertility or fecundity. It is the fertilising power of the procreative Srid-pa’i lha ancestors expressed in the cult’s myths and the rites, the renewal of which is desired by human worshippers. In addition to human male fertility, tshe also has the somewhat wider sense of the overall ‘virility’ of a man in terms of prowess in his own physical life, with the implicit understanding that sexual potency is connected with, and ref lected in, other bodily capacities and drives.34 The old Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript for Srid-pa’i lha worship captures the cult’s basic idea about tshe in the line, ‘The life-force of a man is the tshe of the lha.’35 One also thinks here of the term bla tshe encountered in the Tibetan terminology of life empowering rites. Very similar tshe ‘life’ concepts also occur in highland Himalayan regions of Nepal in rites conducted by shamans,36 just as they do more so in relation to fertility among the Naxi in the ritual culture of the dtô-mbà (see ch. 17). All this is not to say that communities of Srid-pa’i lha worshippers do not also subscribe to the concept of tshe [ring] as temporal lifespan, for they certainly do. However, that meaning is context-bound in terms of their being clients of lamas,

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astrologers and other related ritual specialists who have long drawn many of their symbolic and practical resources from the wider Tibetan Buddhist milieu. While it sometimes requires careful linguistic and social focus to be aware of the subtle distinctions informants make between these two meanings of tshe in everyday conversation, in all the oral and written ritual texts used for Srid-pa’i lha worship the notion of tshe as patrilineal fertility and male vitality/virility is obvious, as we will see. In my ethnographic examples, attaining tshe is the ritual aspiration (smon lam) not only of individual males, but also of entire patrilines or agnatic groups as social corporates, namely those who share the same ‘bone’ in the dominant regional idiom of descent and relatedness. Local ritual terminology often directly ref lects this. For example, in the Srid-pa’i lha worship community of Thempang in the Monyul Corridor (see ch. 11), the special term designating bonesharing members of an agnate collective and the ceremonial group based upon it is tsheshomba (tshe zhong ba), literally ‘life basket’ and ‘ones of the life basket’. The shomba (zhong ba) or ‘basket’ literally refers to the woven cane basket that is the container for the feast and ransom offerings collectively presented to the ancestral deities by all members of an agnatic ceremonial group when tshe life powers are sought for them during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. The offered substances – typically foodstuffs and liquor – within the basket transmit the tshe to the agnatic ceremonial group when they consume them following ritual contact with the lha. I will return to the life basket in several chapters throughout the book, since it is a regional phenomenon found among certain populations along the extended eastern Himalayas. In other ritual contexts, tshe can also have a special meaning as the inherited component necessary for transmission of the role of a bon shaman, something that usually occurs hereditarily among agnates (see ch. 5).

g.Yang While men ritually aspire to tshe, adult women aspire to g.yang, and cattle also have g.yang bestowed upon them during worship of the Srid-pa’i lha. When describing a range of

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very different contexts, ethnographers and historians working with Tibetic language sources have regularly translated g.yang as ‘prosperity’, ‘fortune’ and ‘good luck’ or used similar general expressions. While such glosses may be meaningful for certain contexts, they are not useful for data from the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Long ago, Rolf Stein proposed ‘quintessence’ as a gloss for g.yang, and this relates closely to the term bcud or ‘essence’ that frequently occurs together with g.yang.37 While g.yang describes the more subtle and mobile potentiality of ‘quintessence’, bcud implies its embodiment in a living being or a substance. For example, in the case of foodstuffs, their g.yang is regarded as the ‘essential nourishment’ (bcud) that the food contains. In my own experience, ‘quintessence’ and ‘essence’ come much closer to the observable realities of how ordinary rural peoples in the greater Tibetan speaking region act in the material world of their everyday lives – rather than responding to research questions – when something is explained by them in relation to g.yang. For example, when observing a traditional lineage doctor in a rural area dispensing his powdered medicines to patients with a spoon, I noticed he always finally removed a small portion from the heap he had already allocated for the patient, and replaced this portion back into the bag holding his stocks. The doctor briefly mentioned this was to stop the g.yang of his materia medica being depleted, to hold back some of the medicine’s quintessence. Similarly, when pastoralists of northern Tibet move their large herds for grazing to some distant pastures, they often leave one or two animals behind at the camp for the same reason, to conserve or set aside a sort of fund of the animals’ g.yang. Samten Karmay once offered the good example of selling a horse, where the seller pulls some hairs from the animal’s tail before it departs with the buyer, as a gesture of retaining a measure of horse g.yang, implying the distinction between a material horse and a ‘virtual’ or quintessential horse.38 In these simple actions from daily life, g.yang represents some essential potency or potentiality with both subtle, mobile, and more fixed embodied modes. In the domestic sphere, at least, it must be held back in reserve and maintained at a certain minimum level, as a kind of ‘virtual operating stock’. All my Himalayan informants share these same ideas about g.yang. However, the g.yang believed to come directly from the Srid-pa’i lha is not understood in the same way as g.yang

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

that is already circulating within the domestic sphere and embodied in its beings, substances and objects. In Srid-pa’i lha rites, g.yang is always referred to with two aspects: as a mobile life power which flows down from the sky together with the lha; and as a quintessential re/productive potency which then becomes embodied and actualised in fertile women and female livestock by way of ritual practice. For both types of female beings, g.yang represents the ‘quintessence’ of fertility, where conception, gestation, birth and production of life-giving milk are the manifestations of its embodied essence. Together with ideas about tshe outlined above, this understanding of g.yang is expressed in the gendered nature of the foundation myths, invitation narratives and aspiration chants used by participants during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Such aspiration chants are remarkably similar across the whole distribution of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. They enumerate the new life powers and qualities verbally requested from the ancestral lha, as well as their distribution by gender, age and type of being. The following example is chanted at the Cha festival in the Kurtöp speaking community at Shawa in Kurtö, north-east Bhutan, and addressed to the female ancestral deity Awu (‘elder sister’) Grang-bya-mo: [Give us] good tshe for those without tshe! Good looks for those without beauty! Good food for those without food! Good clothing for those without clothes! Good livestock for those without livestock! For fathers, good tshe! For mothers, good g.yang! For the youth, good lustre! For young men, good power! For sisters, good looks!39 In some variations of these aspiration chants, the link between g.yang and female fertility is more explicit since the word for ‘son/child’ (bu)40 is simply substituted for g.yang in the same verse lines. We find this, for example, in a chant by worshippers from the Khoma collective of five villages addressed to the female deity Chu-zhe Ngag-lha-mo. She is identified by informants as the ‘great sky lha’ (dgung lha

chen mo) and the sister of the male Gurzhe, one of the most important regional Srid-pa’i lha: We request tshe for fathers! We request sons/children (bu) for mothers! We request power for young men! We request cows for wives! 41 We request growth for young children! We request harvests for the village! Whatever aspirations we want are requested threefold!42 When tshe and g.yang are ritually transferred during the same Khoma festival, by smearing butter that had been offered to the Srid-pa’i lha directly upon the crown of each worshipper’s head – as primary seat of, and portal for mobile vitality – the worshippers make another briefer and more prosaic address to the deity regarding household fertility outcomes that they hope will result from the bestowal of tshe and g.yang. They request that the typical three-storied farmer’s houses with attic store above, dwelling rooms in between, and livestock stall beneath, will become ‘full of grain on top’ (thog ’bru’i gang), ‘full of people in between’ (bar mi’i gang), and ‘full of livestock below’ (’og nor gi gang).43 Not only human women of childbearing age must receive g.yang from the lha, but also crucially the domestic livestock.44 In almost all cases, ‘livestock’ (nor, phyugs) within the research region means domestic bovines that are kept mainly for subsistence dairy production. As with human females, the main point here again is fertility and fecundity in terms of both production of new calves and the milk yield that comes with them. This need for cattle g.yang is strongly inscribed in the origin myth of Srid-pa’i lha worship. One version of the myth has the messenger who invites ‘father’ (yab cig) gShen-rab to solve a life crisis on earth thus complaining of human circumstances that, ‘Since the livestock have no g.yang, they are just like the wild goats (kha sha) of the mountain sides.’45 The implication here is that animals of little g.yang are small like the wild goats and their fertility is unavailable – since their new-borns are not to be had, and the mothers can’t be milked – and are only fit to be killed for

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their meat, like game. Across the neighbouring valleys and languages and dialects in the region, the term kha sha specifically referred to here can name a variety of smaller game species, including muntjac, barking deer and goral, which are the main wild ungulates of chase in this part of the Himalayas. In the myth, gShen-rab then goes on to instruct people about a rite to invite the progenitor deity ’O-de Gungrgyal to descend to earth, and when this Srid-pa’i lha arrives he himself tells the worshippers at one stage, “I come as the g.yang of the livestock who are without g.yang.”46 During rites, worshippers then publicly broadcast this specific mythical imperative for livestock g.yang, along with all their other aspirations. We see this in a chant voiced on behalf of the public by the bon po of Zangling village in lower Kheng Chikor: [We] request the lha Tshangs-pa gDong-bzhi: For the 18047 households of Zangling, Come for [our] continuing good harvests and livestock! Come so the rainwaters fall during the season! Among the 180 households of Zangling, Come and hide any illness! Come and put a stop to death! Come and open the dawning of the day! Among the 180 households of Zangling, Come and give g.yang to the cattle without g.yang! […] Come and give tshe to the heads with no tshe! Come and give power to the mouths without power! Come to give warmth to the bodies without warmth! lHa Tshangs-pa gDong-bzhi come!48 The same specific aspiration for livestock to receive g.yang is also found in the old ritual manual Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, which instructs ritual performers to call out the words, ‘Come tshe for people, g.yang for livestock, nourishment for food, and lustre and the glow of life!’49 My gloss ‘glow of life’ here is for mdangs which, together with bkrag or ‘lustre’, occurs commonly in the aspiration chants of Srid-pa’i lha worship. Giuseppe Tucci once described mdangs as meaning “the glowing appearance of a man in good health and full strength”.50 Indeed, both mdangs and bkrag indicate intact and balanced vitality within a person, being a sort of

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manifest, external testimony that an individual and a community possess the essential powers of productive life in full measure.

2.5 Ritual Manipulation of Vitality The flow and destination of mobile vitality descended from the Srid-pa’i lha is manipulated during festivals using rites performed by both bon shamans and ritual sponsors. The primary staging areas for this manipulation are always ‘natural’ open spaces beyond places of human dwelling. They especially include sacred groves or dedicated living trees in the forest, and outdoor altars freshly made from such tree species, crude stone slab altars raised above the level of the ground, and the use of freshly cut, ritually pure vegetation for a variety of purposes. The only exception to this are rite phases which can occur directly at the hearth place or in the attic space of houses belonging to key hereditary ritual specialists and sponsors, albeit that these sites are related more to the initial process of inviting and hosting the lha. In addition to the ritual tree, the common element in all arenas is the flat and unembellished altar surface. These mostly consist of one or more natural stone slabs raised above ground level to some degree like a low bench, occasionally a wooden slab like a portable altar or, inside a building, a simple wooden shelf mounted upon a wall near the hearth place or at the specific area dedicated to the ancestors. In northern East Bodish languages, the word for these flat slab altars is tang 51 while the classical Tibetan stegs bu can also be used. They are often mentioned in the chants of bon shamans, when they call out, ‘Come to the surface of the altar board!’52 In addition to their central role in Srid-pa’i lha worship, the same type of slab altars of different materials are employed in rites for ancestral deities along the extended eastern Himalayas by the Naxi, Qiang, Drung and Kulunge Rai populations.53 The actions required for manipulation of vitality in sacred groves and on slab altars are expressed by a range of specific verbs in the ritual language of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Considering these verbs together with close observation of the ritual acts they define reveals aspects of how vitality’s

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

modes and qualities are conceived of and exploited. To initiate the descent of vitality, it must be ‘requested’ (zhu), and then ‘brought down’ (phab) from the sky, as well as being invoked to ‘come!’ (byon, imperative of ’byon pa). Both the Srid-pa’i lha and their vitality – described as tshe, g.yang or phya – can be the object of these three verbs. Their use in this context occurs in both chants by the bon shaman, such as for verbal ritual journeys illustrated in parts III and IV, and in aspiration chants also used by ritual sponsors, such as those in the examples cited above. Once the lha’s vitality is believed to have flowed down and be present in the ritual arena of a festival, a second set of three semantically related verbs come into play. The first verb is phog (from ’phog pa, ’bog pa) meaning to ‘strike’, ‘touch’, ‘penetrate’, ‘affect’, and frequently occurring in the phrase tshe phog which might be glossed in context as ‘tshe penetration’. Then there is the verb [b]rdung[s] meaning ‘to beat, to strike’ referring to actions performed with both the hands and feet, and finally ’khrab[s] ‘to jump, to leap’ and ‘to beat, to strike’, and more specifically ‘to stamp’, ‘to tread’ when referring to actions performed with the feet. Both these latter verbs also occur in conjunction with bro that refers to various forms of stepping, stamping and jumping movement performance discussed with examples in parts III and IV. All instances using hands and feet literally describe how the newly available vitality is ‘beaten’ or ‘driven’ into and ‘touched’ on to, and thus ‘penetrates’ and ‘affects’ the bodies of ritual participants. Some Srid-pa’i lha festivals preserve dramatic instances of this. At sites in Kheng Chikor, for example, as festival participants approach the main outdoor altar during a nocturnal rite when food offerings the lha are believed to have partaken of are distributed to each person, those persons are soundly beaten on the crown of the head and shoulders by a group of young men assisting the bon shaman. The beatings are accompanied by a cacophony of loud cries. Nobody is spared, regardless of age, gender or status ranking, although elderly women and very young children receive lighter treatment. At other sites, and in the same context of tshe phog, festival participants, but especially women of childbearing age, are hit on the buttocks, hips and laps by men using their hands, or in some cases large wooden phalluses and even wooden models of male

animals, such as yak or mithun bulls. The first example of being hit on the head is related to the idea that mobile vitality passes in and out of the head, while the second example of hitting around the buttocks, hips and lap is directly related to the conception of mobile vitality descending to the reproductive organs as the source of human fertility. Once the descended Srid-pa’i lha have been invited and settled at a site of worship, they are ‘served’ and ‘partake of ’ (the verb gsol in both cases) various forms of hospitality. The sought-after new tshe and g.yang they bring are also transferred by way of the ritual devices and substances used to provide that hospitality, and with which the deities come into contact. The main devices include trees and their branches or wood and objects or structures fashioned from these, ritual cords or ropes of various sorts, as well as the ‘sacrificial arrays’ (’brang rgyas, see below) or ‘accumulations’ (tshogs) of foodstuffs and drinks served to the lha as hospitality. It is noteworthy that tshe and g.yang powers and the mobile vitality principle itself are most commonly associated with the points of conical or pyramidal forms and these feature strongly in the types of ritual devices favoured within the cult. Ritual cakes of various types are commonly made and used in Tibetan Buddhist rites everywhere in east Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. However, they are fundamentally different from those employed in Srid-pa’i lha worship. Buddhist ritual cakes are generically termed torma (CT gtor ma), which in Buddhist contexts connotes that they be ‘thrown’ or ‘scattered’ (the verb gtor). Throwing or scattering of gtor ma is done to dispose of what is unwanted, or as an offering, as well as for offensive purposes to ward off something harmful. Such cakes are also ontologically identified directly with deities themselves, as their representations or their receptacles (rten) during tantric rites when they can also be conceived of as weapons. Ritual cakes in the cult have none of these Buddhist functions, although their gaining ontological equivalence with the deities via contact is central to their meaning within rites. In general, all such cakes are a form of vegetarian food items as hospitality directed towards ancestral lha who attend festivals as the honoured ‘guests’, yet they are specifically employed for two purposes, both of which represent instances of mobile vitality residing temporarily within or on the cakes themselves.

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Firstly, ritual cakes are frequently presented for offering in mass quantities during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. They are often laid out systematically across natural stone slab altars next to living lha shing or ‘deity trees’ in the sacred grove (pl. 2), or arrayed in baskets and shallow wooden troughs at the hearth place next to an erect ritual arrow which represents a lha shing (pl. 3). In both cases, they always sit upon beds of ritually pure vegetation, such as Artemisia branches or fern fronds, freshly gathered within or nearby the sacred grove. In local manuscripts, these arrays of food offerings are specifically described as ’brang rgyas zhal dkar, a term of some significance in regional cultural history. This term and its elements is first known from Old Tibetan terminology describing death rites. For instance, ’brang apparently referred to a ritual structure or device set up (gzugs) for a funeral,54 while ’brang rgyas with the attribute zhal dkar occurs in lists of offering items.55 The precise meanings of these old terms may now not be completely known, yet ethnographically I gloss ’brang rgyas zhal dkar with ‘sacrificial array’ due to the actual physical characteristics of such offerings (pls. 2, 3). In the chants used for Srid-pa’i lha worship, the lha are always directly invited to descend from the top of the sky world and to then dwell upon or in the ‘extensive’ (rgyas) array of food items comprising the ’brang rgyas zhal dkar. The bon shaman informs the deity that ‘a sacrificial array is set up as a support for the lha’ (’brang rgyas zhal dkar lha’i rten du btsugs), or he requests the deity to ‘make your soul support in/on the sacrificial array’ (’brang rgyas zhal dkar la / thugs rten mdzad).56 The element zhal ‘face’ in the term signifies that the ‘white’ (dkar, i.e., vegetarian) food items themselves are viewed as a simulacrum for the deity who they are associated with via the latter’s presence at/in, and consumption or acceptance of the edible items.57 This is the mechanism that transfers the life powers of the deity into the substance of the foodstuffs that can then be consumed by worshippers to transfer those same life powers into human bodies. The generic term for individual ritual cakes devoted to Sridpa’i lha is spoken shos, written as bshos, sometimes also lha bshos, with diminutive bshos bu for small items. The word occurs in local bon shaman manuscripts, and is known to shamans and older persons, but not so commonly used by

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é Plate 2. A ’brang rgyas zhal dkar array upon a stone slab altar in a sacred grove for a verbal ritual journey to invite the lha, Yewang, West Kameng, 2011.

laypersons. The word bshos in Tibetan is interesting in the context of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. In more recent literature and ritual chants, as a noun it simply means ‘sustenance’ or ‘provisions’, in this case what is offered as hospitality for deities to consume. In Old Tibetan and earlier Classical Tibetan examples of ritual antecedent narratives, bshos appears as the verb ‘to begat’ or ‘to procreate’, and is directly related to the birth of children.58 This older meaning is certainly embodied by the ritual cakes locally termed in the same manner, since the tshe and g.yang they contain after having been offered can be consumed by worshippers, and are thus the material vehicle for obtaining human fertility which is one of the principal functions of the cult. At most sites these cakes are formed from dough using flour from locally grown millet or buckwheat, the two more ancient

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

ê Plate 3. A ’brang rgyas zhal dkar array in wooden troughs at the hearth place of a hereditary ritual sponsor’s house during a bon shaman’s nocturnal verbal ritual journey to the sky, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

grain crops of the region, or formed from fresh white cheese (pls. 143, 144). They are fashioned into triangular-pyramidal or conical forms (pls. 4, 5, 6), which can sometimes be quite sharply pointed. The apex of such forms is always that part associated most closely with vitality, and it indicates the upward, vertical cosmic axis (pl. 8). This basic form is locally termed zur gsum, literally ‘three-angled’ or ‘threecornered’ (pls. 5, 6).59 This terminology is quite old in the vocabulary of mundane rites, with ‘three-cornered ritual cakes’ (zur gsum bshos) and ‘pointed ritual cakelets’ (dbal gyi bshos bu) being used by specialists termed srid pa’i bon po or srid pa rgyud kyi bon po who worship lha in fourteenth century texts.60 But this language is probably adapted from a more accurate but still older term to describe triangularpyramidal cakes – which actually have four facets and four points in total – namely gru bzhi as the form of sman bshos cited in an Old Tibetan document.61 The second use of such ritual cakes in the cult is as the temporary seat for the mobile vitality principles or ‘souls’ of a

collective unit of worshippers who share a common descent group (pl. 6). Again, it is the pointed apex of the form where the vital force dwells. For conveyance, and when stored, these cakes are always placed within a woven cane basket of one form or other, for this is their protective receptacle or ‘nest’ when they are bearing the souls or life forces of the ritual participants. This basket itself can be literally termed the ‘life basket’ in some East Bodish languages. As will be discussed in chapters 17 and 18, versions of the same device feature in the domestic cults of specific populations settled between the Srid-pa’i lha cult region and the highlands of north-west Yunnan. Moreover, within the cult, whenever a ritual specialist must perform a function that may potentially destabilise or displace their mobile vitality principle, his or her ‘soul’ can be placed temporarily upon the pointed apex of a conical or pyramidal ritual device made of butter or dough for protection. Such arrangements always replicate a tree with a nest upon it in some way or other: a wooden phallus tied high up a pole made from a single tree trunk erected in the sacred grove, where on the tip of the

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phallus rests the ‘soul’ of a ritual performer; a cone-shaped cake of ‘life cheese’ (spoken tshe frum, CT tshe phrum) placed within a basket of offerings (pl. 143) or in a miniature nest of branches atop a pole on the altar (pl. 144), upon which the vitality for an agnatic ceremonial group sits; a ritual arrow with a cone of butter atop it and placed erect in a basket of harvest grains (pl. 7), where a spirit medium rests her ‘soul’ while her body is possessed by a deity. Once any edible offerings have been sublimely consumed by the lha, they are dispensed to worshippers for immediate internal consumption, or external application to the body. The vertically oriented cosmology is reiterated within the microcosm of the person. Life powers which have so far flowed down from the sky continue their vertical descent within the bodies of individual worshippers who consume tshogs substances through the mouth, have tshogs butter and sometimes alcohol smeared upon the crowns of their heads, and popped harvest grains rubbed upon their faces and fed to them. Hence the line ‘Come and give tshe to the heads with no tshe!’ in the chant from Zangling quoted above. In regional traditions of rites, myth and popular discourse, the top of the head, the mouth and by extension the face – and more rarely the ears – are the conduits through which mobile vitality flows in and out of the body. The process of internal embodiment of vitality beginning from the head moves downwards, with descending life powers coming to rest as fertility within the body’s reproductive organs in the lower part of the torso. The only other method to directly acquire tshe and g.yang in the body is through the ‘miraculous’ fertilisation of women by the Srid-pa’i lha in rites involving simulated copulation, an example of which is given in chapter 9. The bon shaman’s exclusive role, his rites, the cosmology informing them and the language defining manipulation and acquisition of new life powers from Srid-pa’i lha, via a vertical cosmology, into human and animal bodies all contrast markedly with those used for manipulating positive productive forces such as g.yang already circulating within the domestic sphere. Manipulation or management of such powers within the domestic arenas of household, fields and pastures, marketplace, affinal relations and so on can

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é Plate 4. Bon shaman wearing a woollen turban and offering a conical cake of ‘life cheese’ (tshe frum) with a flower as a pure ‘seat’ for the lha, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, north-east Bhutan, 2012.

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6 Plate 5. Pyramidal, four-faceted bshos bu ritual cakes in cane baskets for use in ’brang rgyas zhal dkar arrays, Yewang, 2011.

é Plate 6. Pyramidal ritual cakes for the collective mobile vitality of specific descent lineages, with birds representing ancestral lha and new vitality descending from the sky world, Yewang, 2011.

è Plate 7. Ritual arrow topped with butter cone as temporary residence for a ritual specialist’s vital force during a rite, far eastern Bhutan, 2010.

ê Plate 8. Pointed dampa ritual cakes upon an altar as offering to Srid-pa’i lha, Nyimshong, 2014.

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frequently be undertaken by laypersons themselves, without need for a ritual specialist. But when specialists are called, one typically finds a lama or monk of Buddhism or g.Yung-drung Bon as the performer, as well as spirit mediums and other types of local ritual specialists, even some termed bon po and lha bon, but including all those who usually deal with earth-bound territorial deities and spirits of the environment. All such performers employ a different class of rites which is reflected in the specific ritual vocabulary of ‘gathering’, ‘retrieving’, ‘containing’, ‘fixing’ and so on (’gug pa, len pa, bsdus pa, chags pa, gnas pa, etc.) that they employ. The cosmological references here are overwhelmingly horizontal and static, or at least relatively so within the local cosmos. All this is not to imply that bon shamans are so specialised that they cannot ritually manipulate life powers within the domestic sphere, for some are called upon to do so, and they maintain separate ritual texts and different skills for this purpose beyond the context of Sridpa’i lha cult worship. However, the ritual labour of bringing down new life powers vertically and directly from the sky for human revitalisation is their exclusive domain within the research region, for only they are designated to interact with ancestral beings. Elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas, it is usually also a shaman who has the same specialised role, although other types of designated ritual specialists who are not shamans, as well as lay members of a sponsor household, can practice forms of it.62 A final observation concerns the idea that pla, tshe, g.yang and phya, as they are understood within the Srid-pa’i lha cult of the research region, might be generally thought of as belonging to an “elementary economy”63 of innate forces which various studies have detailed for Tibetan Plateau and some Himalayan highland societies. If so, then they are also surprisingly separate from, or peripheral to, many of the other reference points typically noted within such economies. They are almost never articulated with generalised notions of ‘fortune’ governed by the fluctuating valences of forces such as rlung rta, dbang thang, the g.yang of things – as opposed to that of essentially fertile bodies – or with related notions of causality such as karma (las) and ‘merit’ (bsod nams) in the Buddhist sense, or ‘causes’ (rgyu, rkyen) in the more colloquial sense. Rather, pla, tshe, g.yang

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and phya are always discussed together with Srid-pa’i lha ancestor-progenitors at one end of a continuum, and identified with tangible characteristics of being alive and vital or vigorous, such as being fertile, warm, strong, beautiful, nourished, glowing with health (or the absence of these), and so on at the other end. This appears related to the fact we are dealing with an ancestor cult, and one maintained by Himalayan peoples. Srid-pa’i lha worshippers are not Tibetan Plateau dwellers speaking Tibetic languages, but Himalayan populations with different ethnolinguistic heritages that we can think of as having become ‘Tibetanised’ to varying degrees and in some domains and not in others. Signs of this are that ideas such as rlung rta or dbang thang more commonly invoked among speakers of Tibetic languages are weakly, if at all, developed as explanatory content for life circumstances among peoples within the research area. If they are, it tends to be within the formal, textualised domain of astrology, divination and rites employed by Tibetan Buddhist ritual specialists where terminology has been directly imported from the north via Classical Tibetan liturgy. Also, concerning the discourses surrounding specific topics, one can discern an assimilation of different cosmologies, or their compartmentalised use. For example, in discussions with village informants in a Srid-pa’i lha worship community, about how a person takes birth, the universal causality of karma from Buddhism is frequently invoked. Yet, when the more focussed topic concerns parents who cannot conceive a child, a more exclusive causality determined by relatedness is appealed to in terms of rites of conception involving a particular lha ancestor-progenitor as a divine ‘father’ of members of a specific local kin group, a father who contributes a new life by sharing his mobile vitality. Moreover, the rhetoric of ancestor cults, of which Srid-pa’i lha worship is a manifestation, permit direct connections to be maintained with the ultimate source of life forces. This is bound to specific social identities, and thus not at all universal in the terms appealed to by salvation religions. Moreover, the vertical route determined by ritual techniques from the top of the sky into a human body is also direct and immediate in the here and now, and is thus unlike the far less proximate spatio-temporal horizons related to Buddhist

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

causality. Thus, such flows of pla, tshe, g.yang and phya life forces in the cult by-pass the complex entanglements of a proximate world that is populated by many other types of beings and subject to unpredictable circumstances. These always figure centrally in explanations of what Giovanni da Col called the “potentialities and directionalities” of innate forces and their “economies of fortune”.64 In terms of such explanations, we have already noted the different directionality expressed in the cult, while the assignment of relative potentiality to forces is never very explicitly arrayed in terms of a language of high/low, rising/waning, and so on, although we might imply it from certain narratives. Rather, such expressions tend to be more absolute in the cult’s representations. One either has pla, tshe, g.yang and phya or one does not. It is absolutely gained or lost. While gaining it is always aspired to, manipulation to defend it from loss or depletion is far less a priority, or not at all. Again, all this appears more typical of ancestral cults. Their participants reconnect periodically and directly back to an original source, based upon the precedent of a primordial connection. In terms of myth, in the lha rgyud type of ritual antecedent narratives used by bon shamans, the first connection with lha makes the tangible difference between a mean life and a full one, between barrenness and birth, plainness and beauty, coldness and warmth, and so on. In the glud type of narratives used by some bon shamans, lost mobile vitality leading to degrees of lifelessness is a problem of improper connections back to ancestral lha. Thus, access to those lha connected with humans is always the central concern of the ritual antecedent narratives in play: gifts favoured by the lha have not been given, lha retreat when repelled by unfit social relations, defilement of their descendants’ living environment blocks the entry of lha into it, and so on.

2.6 Procreation and Affinity The procreative function of the Srid-pa’i lha for human conceptions, and affinal relations between lha and humans, are both consistent mythical and ritual themes featuring within the cult. In certain cases, procreation itself entails the flow of mobile vitality directly from the male lha into their female human worshippers. In the older corpus of Tibetan

myths which relate most closely to the Srid-pa’i lha cult, procreative unions between lha and humans are not attested in relation to the ‘progenitor emperor’65 gNya’-khri bTsan-po himself, nor his Srid-pa’i lha forebears, such as the ‘super’progenitor lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal.66 However, in the same body of myths either recorded in, or set within, the landscape of southern central Tibet, significant precedents for rites in the cult involving lha-human procreation do exist. In a mid-thirteenth century redaction of the myth of the progenitor emperor, his first lha bon ritual specialist on earth is fathered by the being sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras during the terrestrial phase of the emperor’s arrival itinerary or Gshegs rabs. lHa-bo lHa-sras (and variants) is a ubiquitous and old identity intimately associated with sky lha and Phy[w]a in many myths. When the progenitor emperor encounters the first ‘real’ human beings (as opposed to hostile srin) whom he meets after arriving upon the earth, sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras aids the emperor thus: His essence (i.e., semen) entered the womb of the married woman sTag-pa Ting-rum like ‘seed on the wind’, due to which the son who was born, a boy renowned as the ‘lha light’, named Gung-gzigs (Apprehending the Sky), was thus made the lha bon of the lord gNya’-khri bTsan-po.67 One should note that the word rum in this woman’s name means ‘womb’, and that she is explicitly described as being married. These are on-going references featuring in later myths and rites. In the gDung origin narratives preserved in the seventeenth century Rgyal rigs, which are the oldest currently dateable record of Srid-pa’i lha cult myths from within the research region, male Srid-pa’i lha, such as ’O-de Gung-rgyal and his emanation or ‘son’ Gu-se Lang-ling (nowadays colloquially called Gurzhe), are sky lha progenitors that descend and fertilise married human females who then conceive and bear children. In one case, the lha descends from the sky directly into a woman’s womb following his manifestation as sound and light, while in another case the lha appears as a white snake that crawls upon a sleeping woman who then becomes pregnant. 68 Both conceptions lead to the birth of a so-called ‘son of

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the lha’ (lha’i bu) by the woman who, in the former case, already has a human husband, and in the latter case by one who is en route at the time of the incident to marry her new human husband. The model in all these narratives of male lha miraculously procreating with married human women is the precise template underlying Srid-pa’i lha cult rites to enable childless couples to conceive. These are the practices called sifu or seefu described for the festivals I documented at Tsango (ch. 9) and Changmadung (ch. 10). Moreover, this direct fertilisation of married women by the lha is openly celebrated whenever the deities are conducted down from the sky world for a festival. As an example of how this theme is typically expressed, we can describe the ritualised behaviour that occurs when the lha first arrives on earth during Srid-pa’i lha festivals along the Kuri Chu valley. For instance, when the descending lha Gurzhe is believed to alight upon a ridge top above the village of Lawa when invited during the community’s Pla festival, the ritual specialists who greet him there sing a three-line song over and over. They do this while prancing downhill through the forest to escort the deity towards the village where it is met and welcomed by the highest ranked married women of the sponsoring households. The words of the song describe the point of view of the descending lha in relation to married women who are mothers in the Kurtö settlement of Thongling, which can be seen from the ridge top site directly across the Kuri Chu valley to the west, and that was perhaps a former site of wife-givers in relation to Lawa: Aaye! I saw the Thongling mother’s vagina. Not only did I see her, I fucked and fucked her. [I inseminated her with] a butter churn full of semen.69 At Tsamang, another site further down the Kuri Chu valley, when Gurzhe descends during the festival, the male worshippers continue singing explicit songs describing mature female genitalia, while a lha shing tree is hung all over with red painted, arm-length wooden phalluses and celebrated as the deity’s resting place during the festival.70

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These are typical of many different examples from around the research region expressing the manner in which the Srid-pa’i lha are ritually anticipated, welcomed, and explicitly hosted as fertilising male visitors from the sky with who married human women can conceive. Moreover, most laypersons that directly participate in certain ritual roles in festivals are explicitly referred to as ‘sons/children of the lha’ (lha’i bu) as an expression of this divine paternity. As we will see in chapter 15, all such ideas were already present in mundane rites that we know existed in the origin region of the cult in lHo-brag during the eleventh century era, and they live on in practice today in the cult. There is another old variation on the lha-human procreation motif, one which informs the ritual tradition of ‘marrying’ prepubescent girls to the lha as still occurs in some Srid-pa’i lha cult communities. This motif is also significant from a comparative perspective. An example of the mythical precedent for it is found in the fourteenth century Rlangs origin narrative, that was probably composed in southern Central Tibet, and the introductory sections of which reflected the non-Buddhist folk culture of its era. Following a version of the same lha rgyud cosmo-genealogy found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the narrative of the human ancestor Mang-ldom sTag-btsan depicts him married with a human wife and attempting to continue his royal line, yet unable to conceive a child or son. By way of emanating with his mind, he goes to the land of the pure lha above and meets the four eldest of the eight sibling sky lha. In the cosmo-genealogy preceding this section, these four lha had been introduced, and among them it is ’O-de Gung-rgyal – the main progenitor lha of the cult – who is specifically identified as the origin of the lineage of human beings. Mang-ldom petitions (zhus) the lha, stating he never had any offspring, and they respond with a ritual solution. He is told that: In the thirteenth month of the New Year, approach the powerful lha mountain! Make an offering with a purification [rite]! Accomplish the lHa tshangs sras mo [rite], and come. If you accomplish the lHa tshangs sras mo, a lineage of human beings as offspring of the lha will come forth with a very noble ancestry.71

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The name of the rite, literally “lHa Tshangs[-pa]’s daughter”, refers to Tshangs-pa who is one of the main Srid-pa’i lha deities worshipped today in the cult (see below). Mangldom does as instructed, and on the f lank of the mountain there appeared a beautiful white girl (lha Tshangspa’s daughter?), dressed in white silk robes, with her head bedecked by gold and turquoise, and surrounded by eight divine female beings. They go in front of Mang-ldom, who seizes the robe of the white girl with an arrow – a metaphor for both marriage and the manipulation of g.yang – and tells her, “You came from the land of the lha because I, a man, invited you. Now, stay in the land of human beings because I want to make you my wife.” The female sky being replied, “If you wish me to go to your house, lustration with waters from special sources (tshan) and ablution with pure waters (khrus) must be done for me.”72 These two purification rites, tshan and khrus, are those specifically performed as a part of cult ritual to prepare the arrival of Srid-pa’i lha deities who descend into the human world during festivals. Eventually, after various events and activities, a divine son is miraculously born to them, rising like ‘steam’ (rlangs), to become the founder of the Rlangs. The elements in this narrative read like a template for Sridpa’i lha rabs describing clan origins and those narratives defining rites in the cult. One interesting feature in the Rlangs origin narrative is that the gender identities in it are reversed compared with other versions, so that female sky lha descend and procreate with humans, and thus the lha become the primordial wife-givers. This motif of primordial affinity and procreation is the one most common in myths and rites of certain highland peoples ranged along the extended eastern Himalayas who maintain versions of the ‘inter-regional shamanic tradition-complex’ including, from east to west, the Qiang, Naxi, Moso, Drung, Mishmi, Mra, Mewahang Rai and Kham Magar, amongst various others. In revitalisation rites practiced by some of these groups, such as the Naxi and Drung, the wife-giver role of the sky ancestors is important. While the mythical roles are reversed in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, with humans defined as wife-givers and lha as wife-receivers, the significance of this mythical model of affinity is nevertheless evident in the practice of rites, but especially the ritual betrothal

by worship communities of prepubescent girls as human ‘wives’ for the lha. This effectively places the lha under a wife-taker’s obligation to make prestations to human wifegivers. Why the Srid-pa’i lha cult has this reversal of gender and affinal roles in its mythical model compared with other Himalayan examples from groups whose cosmologies and rites are otherwise rather cognate with it, may be due in part to earlier development of some of the cult’s aspects upon the southern Tibetan Plateau, where the influence of Central Eurasian myth motifs featuring male sky deities is more apparent.73 The presence of female ancestral sky deities (see below) alongside male counterparts in the cult worship communities of Kurtö and Khoma directly adjacent to southernmost Tibet certainly attests to an older overlaying of Tibetan Plateau male myth models upon Himalayan female ones in this region.

2.7 Mobile Vitality at Large in the World We noted above that the origin of the mobile vitality principle and all the other vital and revitalising powers central to human existence and reproduction are ultimately at the top of the sky, from where they flow or fly down in various ways. Beyond the sky, and the embodiment of these powers in lha, humans and their animals via special forms of ritual manipulation, mobile vitality is also mythically and ritually associated with a set of natural features within the world, through which it f lows, albeit only temporarily. This strongly distinguishes the Srid-pa’i lha cult from other cults and religions within the research region. The latter all mark out permanent terrestrial sites and features associated with non-human beings and their energies, and which thus fix cult places of ‘sacred’ significance or of ‘sensitivity’ requiring special behaviours but where ritual access to numina and their powers can always be had. The best known examples are mountains associated with territorial deities, and natural or man-made ‘abodes’ (gnas) of enlightened Buddhist beings and their ‘relic-like’ traces in objects and places. The Srid-pa’i lha cult maintains no equivalents to such permanent cult sites. The worldly features which the lha and mobile vitality are temporarily associated with almost add up to something like a cyclic flow path for life.

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The Srid-pa’i lha cult is informed by the same threefold division of the cosmos into ‘three realms above, upon, and beneath [the surface of] the earth’74 called the srid pa gsum or sa gsum, which all religions and autonomous ritual specialists in the region acknowledge. This marks the absolute boundaries within which vitality can flow. The vertical axis linking the three realms is central to the cosmography of the cult. In fact, only two of the three realms really figure in the vertical cosmography of the cult, and in its myths and rites more generally. The lowest realm of the cosmos, the subterranean and subaquatic one, is completely ignored, with the rare exception of lakes and rivers as a temporary medium for action is some myths. By contrast, the upper two realms are highly stratified into some twenty-five to thirty individual levels or strata in the fullest representations we find in rabs narratives and rites of the bon shaman. The overall vertical cosmography can be divided into three discrete groupings extending from the ideal zenith at the top of the sky down to the ideal nadir at the bon shaman’s altar as follows: 1. Thirteen (+) levels (rim pa) of a sky world (gnam rim pa) above. ​ 2. Nine (+/-) stages or phases along a vertical transit (then/’then) extending downwards from below the first (i.e., lowest) level of the sky world through the intermediate space (bar snang) to the lower atmosphere, often connected by or even represented as a series of ‘doors/ portals’ (sgo). 3. A stratified zone of various terrestrial (sa) ‘eco-referents’, often expressed as ‘boundaries’ (mtshams), extending downwards from around the tops of highland areas, or any other sites of initial ‘touch down’ by the deities upon earth’s surface, to the altar at which deities are hosted and receive offerings. Groupings 1 and 2 here are more or less the exclusive knowledge domain of bon shamans. Apart from very occasional and general reference to them in certain forms of discourse, such as song texts or jokes, ordinary persons have little or nothing to say about them in the way they usually do about grouping 3. The degree to which these three groupings of strata are developed and feature in the narratives and rites of any particular bon shaman depends largely upon the

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transmission he has received from his lineage predecessors, but it can also vary between different types of rites. For instance, the stratified terrestrial zone (3) of what I call ecoreferents can vary significantly from site to site because certain shamans chant their verbal ritual journeys up the vertical axis from an altar at the hearth inside the main sponsor’s house, rather than outside in a sacred grove. Thus, they sometimes substitute a vertical itinerary of architectural features of the house’s construction instead of features outside in the natural environment. The sky realm above and all that characterises it (e.g., astronomical and meteorological phenomena) is the native environment of the lha and thus the permanent source of vitality. The most common natural reference points for mobile vitality and its lha carriers in the realm of the earth’s surface are river courses, less so lakes, trees and other plants, as well as species of birds (sometimes flying insects) and fish which all, like mobile vitality itself, also effectively flow – by flying or swimming – through skies, forests and waterways. None of these features or beings themselves is accorded any form of ‘sacred’ status, per se. Rather, it is that vitality is held to flow through them and with them, or they are identified with its arrival and presence. They are best thought of as pathways, trajectories or vectors, and in the case of birds, insects and fish, also as temporary carriers.

The Sky World, Source of Life Centuries ago, Tibetan Buddhist commentators quipped that ‘The Bonpo love the sky’.75 That old remark is in fact eminently true of the character of the Srid-pa’i lha cult today. The central and most complex cosmographic representation within the cult is the vertically arranged series of ‘levels of the sky’ (gnam rim pa, more rarely dgung rim pa), at the top of which exist the Srid-pa’i lha and thus the veritable source of life. The Tibetan term rim pa not only means ‘level’ (spatially) or ‘stage’ (temporally), it implies a connected series as well. Since the Srid-pa’i lha always occupy a set of thirteen or more levels of the sky, the phrase gnam rim pa in local rabs describes a whole system and its structure.

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

Normally, I would translate single occurrences of gnam and dgung simply as ‘sky’, yet gnam rim pa deserves the use of ‘sky world’ in the context of the cult. As the term gnam rim pa implies, in local myths the sky world is represented as a separate and complex realm of the cosmos, one with its own structure and order, and populated by specific beings who have their own kinship and affinal relations, symbols, architecture, and so on. Thus, it is a ‘world’ of its own in every sense, just as we use that term to describe the cosmic realm upon the surface of the earth. In Srid-pa’i lha cosmography, the fact that all the other familiar astronomical bodies (sun, moon, stars, etc.) exist between the sky world and the surface of the earth conveys the impression of enormous distance and thus separation between these cosmic realms. A second reason for translating gnam rim pa as ‘sky world’ is that this expression already has a long history of use in the anthropology of the hill-dwelling societies of upland Southeast Asia and north-east India. I am intentionally invoking that usage here. In earlier writings, ‘sky world’ already referred to a realm of sky deities and ancestral beings considered to be a source of origins, fertility and life powers available to humans via ritual, and from whom political status could also ultimately be claimed via common descent.76 The Srid-pa’i lha cult thus represents one expression of this same complex of ideas and concerns which is widespread along the eastern Himalayas, in parts of north-east India and highland Southeast Asia, and often where peoples speaking Tibeto-Burman languages are settled. In other words, these are by no means indigenous “Tibetan” ideas as some might have it, and rather reflect much older cosmological perspectives spread in highland South and Southeast Asia, China, North Asia and Siberia. A multi-levelled sky world as realm of ancestral lha is one of the oldest cosmographic notions that we know with certainty was important for earlier Tibetan societies immediately adjacent to the research region. It was already established as an aspect of political myth at least during the immediate post-imperial period in Tibet, if not during the imperial era itself. The specific version of the sky world with thirteen levels in Srid-pa’i lha worship is found in Old Tibetan and early Classical Tibetan origin myths of the

progenitor emperor. Local rabs dedicated to the Srid-pa’i lha repeatedly refer to their abode using the expression ‘at the top of the thirteenth level of the sky world’ (gnam rim pa bcu gsum steng na), which is verbatim as it appears in certain Old Tibetan documents.77 While it has sometimes been held that this thirteenfold scheme is specifically “Bonpo”, it rather represents a perfect or ideally whole number, in exactly the same way that the number nine does in so many older ritual and contemporary shaman cultures (see ch. 14).78 A sky world with thirteen levels is by far the most common scheme throughout the distribution of Srid-pa’i lha worship. However, variations of it – seven and nine levels are most common – do occur in Old Tibetan documents79 and the early Classical Tibetan myths about gNya’-khri bTsan-po,80 while other variants of the scheme are reflected in a much wider extended eastern Himalayan regional culture associated with local shaman traditions.81 What is unique in the case of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, compared with any other Himalayan shaman tradition so far recorded, is our ability to fairly precisely date very old occurrences of its core cosmology and rites in the same geographical area where they still exist today. Earlier references to the sky world with thirteen levels occur in ritual texts and other narratives that we can precisely locate in lHo-brag and surrounding areas of southernmost Central Tibet in the immediate vicinity of the research region. This is the most likely Tibetan Plateau area of proximate origin for many formalised aspects the Srid-pa’i lha cult, as I discuss in chapters 14 through 16. The eleventh century ste’u rites recorded in a manuscript that is highly likely from lHo-brag or its immediate southern environs plots a thirteen-stage descending itinerary from the top of the sky down to earth, as the route new lives take to enter into the world (see ch. 15, appx. J). ‘Local’ references to being ‘atop the thirteenth level of the sky world’ (gnam rim pa bcu gsum steng na) first occur in ritual texts found in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts discovered in nearby gTam-shul at the eastern boundary of lHo-brag.82 Early Buddhist writers in the same area incorporated this thirteen level cosmographic scheme already found in older mundane rites and myths from their region into their own emerging Tibetan Buddhist culture. The

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thirteenth century Tibetan ‘treasure revealer’ (gter ston) Gu-ru Chos-dbang was a native of lHo-brag, and his life story relates how he studied numerous Bon teachings at an early age, including ritual traditions called Lha bon and g.Yang bon.83 As a precursor to his first major revelation of ‘religious treasures’ (gter), he had a visionary experience while in southern lHo-brag. During that, he f lew to the top of the thirteenth level of the sky mounted upon a vulture, beheld the Buddha Vajrasattva housed there within a tent wreathed in light, and from whom he obtained the power of potent awareness and was entrusted with a vase of elixir. He later disclosed treasures at a site next to lHo-brag mKhar-chu named ‘Sky Ladder Rock’ (gNam-skas Brag), a rocky escarpment or cliff which is literally just up the river from the closest Srid-pa’i lha sites we know of today.84 All the themes and symbols in Gu-ru Chos-dbang’s vision are more or less identical with those found in descriptions of the Srid-pa’i lha in the sky world and the bon shaman’s verbal ritual journey up to encounter them to gain vitality (see ch. 7). Additionally, the thirteen-level sky world occurs in a range of Tibetan historiographical works from the twelfth century onwards. One of the earliest, the Chos ’byung me tog snying po sbrang rtsi’i bcud (composed ca. 1170s-1190s), was authored by Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer, another native of lHo-brag who was born and spent much of his life at gTam-shul where the dGa’-thang manuscripts were found. Like Gu-ru Chos-dbang, he was active right on the border of proto-Bhutan at Kho-mthing within a few kilometres of lHo-brag mKhar-chu. In his Chos ’byung, Nyang-ral recorded a redaction of the myth of the progenitor emperor, gNya’-khri bTsan-po, in which the hero descends from the ‘surface’ (kha i.e., ‘top’) of the thirteen levels of the sky world as a scion of the Srid-pa’i lha.85 In the Srid-pa’i lha cult as a living tradition of practice, the sky world is far more than just a series of levels reported from older Tibetan texts. From the perspective of the bon shamans who undertake verbal ritual journeys to the sky world, it has a local geography that represents their destination and is thus a working environment within which their main goal of initiating the downward flow of vitality for their communities should be achieved. In the chants of bon shamans and in their manuscripts, the sky world which is gnam rim pa in

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the classical sources is frequently represented as the gnam rim spang, referring to each level of the sky being flat like an ideal ‘meadow’ or ‘lawn’ (spang). 86 This parallels reference to the realm of the lha in the sky as the lHa-yul Gung-thang or ‘lHa Land, Sky Plain’, in the Tibetan sources. The stone and wood slab altars used in the cult are earthly analogues of these flat surfaces up in the sky world. The flat sky world levels are also the setting for architecture, especially the ‘stronghold’ (mkhar) of the Srid-pa’i lha. Inside, it features a central throne, but sometimes also around it are individual shrines, walls, staircases and paving stones, all invariably made out of a range of precious or semi-precious materials, and described by bon shamans when they visualise flying over the flat sky world plain to meet the lha there. In some shaman chants, the top level of the sky is also the location of ‘springs’ (chu mig), from which streams or rivers flow down, presumably all the way down to the surface of the earth. Since following a river course upstream and north is the ideal initial orientation for the ‘soul journey’ undertaken by bon shamans to reach the sky (see ch. 7), these springs represent the logical terminus of such itineraries. The sky world is sometimes said to have more than thirteen levels, with up to fifteen or even eighteen in certain bon shaman transmissions. It is interesting that sky levels up to and including the thirteenth level are only assigned a number to distinguish them, while usually any levels higher than thirteen are given specific names or additional descriptions. Such sky level names already appear in very old Tibetan texts, with Kha-yel (or dGa’-yel) for the fourteenth level, sometimes also Cho-lo-rigs, and sTeng-mel for the fifteenth, while gNam-yel was a level atop which ’O-de Gung-rgyal dwells, and these names remain basically the same in the ritual chants of bon shamans today.87 The yel element in these level names can also be compared with the name Mayel for the abode of progenitor-ancestor beings who generally dwell up the cosmic axis - somewhere north and high – in Lepcha or Rong myths and rites from Sikkim.88 Some bon shaman chants also identify the multi-levelled sky world as a ‘ladder’ (skas), up and down which they move ‘step by step’ to transit the vertical axis. When the Srid-pa’i lha bring mobile vitality down from the sky world, they can be depicted as descending by way of a

Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos

magical cord called rmu thag, which can be translated as ‘sky cord’. The term holds much older traces of the culturalhistorical origins of the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself. The Tibetan words rmu (or dmu) and phya (or phywa) have close cognates in Qiang mú pià and mu bya meaning ‘sky’ and ‘sky deity’, while in Naxi pictographic language the word muân (or mûn, now pronounced mee) means ‘sky’ or ‘heaven’, and also refers to the ritual tree as an axis mundi linking earth with heaven which is the legendary sky cord’s analogue.89 The sky cord is often associated with both a column of light and precious materials, which Srid-pa’i lha ‘grasp hold’ (’ ju, ’ jus, snom, bsnam) of with their hands. The image of this cord being connected to the head or helmet is not – or no longer – explicitly found in the cult,90 and the ‘hand-held’ motif it draws upon reflects that found in a pre-1200s corpus of narrative informing the complex myth of gNya’-khri bTsan-po in its oldest written redactions.91 The magical sky cord running up the vertical cosmic axis in the myths is reflected strongly in actual cords and strings which serve as ritual devices used by shamans along the extended eastern Himalayas (see chs. 7, 14), not to mention in Old Tibetan texts, and as is often the case the myths have been based upon practices. As noted above, by consulting older Tibetan redactions of the myth of the progenitor emperor, we can easily identify precursor references for most features of the bon shaman’s sky world just mentioned. However, this is not necessarily their only source in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. We find many cosmological motifs in the cult can be traced back to Old Tibetan ritual texts pre-dating myths of the progenitor emperor, and particularly old rites dealing with death. Moreover, some motifs are so broadly trans-regional they cannot be ‘Tibetan’, but rather are part of an older ethnolinguistic inheritance of many peoples speaking Tibeto-Burman languages. The example of the ladder illustrates this. Ladders made from various substances coming down from the sky, upon which fertile human ancestors descend to earth, or souls of the deceased return to the ancestral sky realm, occur as a very widespread theme in origin myths and cosmologies among populations speaking Tibeto-Burman languages throughout many hill regions of north-east India and the extended eastern Himalayas and

for whom no evidence of historical contact with Tibetan Plateau societies is known.92 Moreover, the ladder made from the trunk of a single tree with notched steps cut into it is the most important means of internal transit between the three-layered, vertical divisions of the domestic space found in nearly every traditional multi-storied dwelling across the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s distribution region. The connection between the vitality-bearing sky lha and the house ladder is by no means an abstract one. On simple shrines within the attic level of the house beneath the roof, and at which some bon shamans store their ritual equipment (see ch. 17), miniature replicas of these notched log ladders, but with exactly thirteen steps, are placed so that the life-giving lha can descend and ascend between house attic and sky (pl. 9).93 The Naxi of north-west Yunnan, who share the same cosmology and rites as found in the cult, also keep miniature, notched wooden house ladders of exactly the same type in a ritual life basket within the house. Named ‘bridge of the Ssú life gods’ (ssú-ndò), their function is described as “The Ssú life gods ascend and descend via the ladder and bestow favours on humans.”94 Pictographic manuscripts of Naxi dtô-mbà ritual specialists for the Szî chúng bpò’ or ‘Ceremony to Reconnect Lost Longevity’95 depict these ladders that are involved in the rites (pl. 10). It is not only the top level of the sky cosmography that is significant during rites. Bon shamans must work on all the levels to make vitality f low downwards. For example, at Tangmachu on the west bank of the Kuri Chu river in north-east Bhutan, the hereditary bon shaman chants to the Srid-pa’i lha named Gurzhe to, “[d]escend from atop the thirteenth level of the sky world. Move down from the throne of yellow gold. Descend from atop the twelfth level of the sky world. Move down from the throne of blue turquoise”,96 and so on, describing a throne of different precious material and colour upon each successive, descending level though which he must guide the deity. At a range of worship communities along the western borders of the distribution of Srid-pa’i lha cult region, extending from Ura through Kheng and down to Bjoka in central east Bhutan, the rites enumerate the installation of thirteen deities on the

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î Plate 9. Model of a log ladder for Srid-pa’i lha in a house attic, with eleven notched steps and the twelfth and thirteenth steps represented by the two ends, Khoma valley, 2012.

î Plate 10. Naxi dtô-mbà pictographs of the notched, juniper wood ladder that connects Ssú life gods with heaven, and the messenger bat of the gods, Dzî-boâ-p’èr, who accomplishes that, on the title page of a Szî chúng bpò’ manuscript.

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respective levels of the sky. For example, at Ura the chant goes, “Atop the thirteenth level of the sky world, placement of Ye-lha Khri-’bum is established there. [level twelve is missing] Atop the eleventh level of the sky world, placement of dGra-lha Yo-byad is established there”, 97 and so on, until a different deity occupies each respective descending level of the sky (cf. ch. 10). At a range of other sites across the far northern distribution of Srid-pa’i lha worship, a different ‘support’ (rten) is set up for the lha as they descend and arrive at each of the thirteen levels of the sky in succession (cf. ch. 9). All this reveals that vitality flows step by step through, and is to be located at, every level of the complex sky world.

Between Sky and Earth Worlds Various narratives and rites concerning the Srid-pa’i lha represent the vertical axis below the lowest level of the sky – which is always counted as ‘the first’ (dang po) level – as a sequence of stages or reference points known as then or ’then, also connected by or represented as ‘doors’ or ‘portals’ (sgo). These are typically between seven and nine in number, but five and ten stage sequences were recorded among some bon shamans. This whole transition zone between sky world above and earth world below is often termed the ‘intermediate space’ or ‘atmosphere’ (bar snang). The Tibetan verb ’then means ‘to draw/pull [something]’. This expresses the idea of mobile transit along a vertical itinerary, and some writers have interpreted it to mean the lha being ‘drawn’ up and down – presumably by their magical rMu cords or on rMu ladders – between sky world and earth world.98 In some Tibetan dialects, ’then pa can mean ‘to wait’ or ‘to stop short’, and the noun then indicates a ‘short period of time’. Both meanings may be relevant here, in the sense of indicating pauses or way stations while progressing along an itinerary. When these same stages are represented as a series of ‘doors’, which are often said to require opening and closing when passing through, the implication is rather that they form a secure barrier, a cordon sanitaire between sky world and earth world to prevent uncontrolled and thus potentially disturbing contacts between the two cosmic realms. The names identifying then stages or doors are all

references to celestial bodies and atmospheric phenomena (e.g., stars, moon, rain, lightning, clouds, drizzle, etc.). They represent all the human eye can visibly perceive when looking upwards into the sky and space. The doors alone are also frequently indexed to specific precious or semi-precious and mundane materials, such as metals and woods. Both the then stages indexed to celestial bodies and atmospheric phenomena, and the doors in bon shaman chants, are familiar from some Old Tibetan ritual antecedent narratives and appear again in early Classical Tibetan redactions of the gNya’-khri bTsan-po myth. For instance, in a description of death rites in the Old Tibetan document PT 1134, we read that, ‘the door (go) of the clouds was cleared, the portal (mthongs) of the sky was opened’,99 while the progenitor emperor’s initial transit from sky down to earth is described as, “the door (sgo) of the sky opened, the door in the clouds was cleared, and he came [down] moving through space.”100 The personal accounts of ‘soul journeys’ to and from the sky world given by some bon shamans are not too different from this image of gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s descent, and the myth motif itself – like a great deal of that myth’s content – is highly likely modelled on such rites. However, most of the then sequences in these early Classical Tibetan myths actually take the form of a genealogical listing of a series of beings often classed as Then-che or Then-rje, who are the immediate ancestors of the main Phywa or Srid-pa’i lha as the cosmos unfolds. In such genealogical lists we find the beings gNam-then-che (sky), his son dGung-then-che (sky), his son sPrin-then-che (cloud), his son Zil-then-che (dew drops), his son Char-then-che (rain), and so on, each referenced to a different celestial or atmospheric phenomenon. While these Then deity series do occur in a few Srid-pa’i lha chants, bon shamans mostly just recite the then as stages and/or doors using the names of celestial bodies and atmospheric phenomena, or various material substances in the case of doors alone. Appendix B provides a comparison of then deity and stage/door sequences from early Tibetan myths and bon shaman chants. However, the particular door series that we find in Srid-pa’i lha worship are also frequently indexed to specific precious or semi-precious and mundane materials, such as metals and woods, and these definitely have a different and probably

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older origin that is regionally attested in ritual. We know that doors or portals (sometimes also called ‘gates’) are present in, or connect a series of stages or transitions through which the mobile vitality principle (bla and cognates, often glossed ‘soul’) is lead during certain rites such as the ransom, and the levels or stages through which the postmortem consciousness (thugs) passes after death in both ancient Tibetan funerals and some contemporary Himalayan funerary rites.101 Indeed, the image of the door series indexed to various substances, but particularly types of wood, occurs regularly in a variety of rites performed by specialists called bon and gshen that are alluded to in the ca. eleventh century ritual antecedent narratives recorded in the dGa’-thang manuscripts discovered just to the north of the research region at gTam-shul. I will analyse this specific connection in chapter 15. Considering all the materials presented in the above two sections, we are confronted with a complex overall picture. An older ‘Tibetan’ set of cosmographic ideas attested in earlier written myths is blended with a far more widespread strata of cultural concepts and practices associated with rites performed by individual/autonomous ritual specialists or shamans in societies speaking non-Tibetic Tibeto-Burman languages. For example, other narratives of vertical ritual journeys leading up to the sky and back used by, or related to, shamans throughout the extended eastern Himalayas also employ the same language of doors or gates of various substances along the route which must be opened (and sometimes closed) during their transits.102 Beyond the Himalayas, it is noteworthy that essentially all the same conceptions of the sky and ritual journeys up to it, that include nine, eighteen or variously elaborated sets of sky layers, some of which are indexed to celestial bodies (stars, moon, etc.) in series, as well as steps or ladders and doors, and often related to trees, also occurred in the premodern Siberian shaman complex as it existed in northern Asia.103

The Earth World and its Beings When a descending deity or ritual specialist on a ritual journey to the sky and back has passed through the intermediate

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space below the sky world – and regardless of whether or not any then sequence has been enumerated during the ritual chant – the vertical axis leading down through the landscape to the site of worship is also often systematically stratified. In its extensive form, the sequence lists up to eight strata from the uppermost alpine zone down to sites of ritual activity. This sequence lacks an indigenous term but might best be referred to as eco-referents. It is ecological since it references both terrestrial substrates or topographical features and tree or plant species. It can begin with alpine mist swirling around hill and mountaintops, or snow and ice cladding the highlands. It then extends through alpine slates, meadows, and forests, particularly as sets of named tree species each realistically occurring in the descending altitudinal sequence found in nature, then sometimes ravines and rivers. Finally, it ends with human ritual spaces, namely the house - especially the hearth - and the altar as sites where rites are performed, and thus the terminus of the lha’s downward journey and nadir for the entire vertical cosmography. Appendix B compares five examples of these eco-referent sequences chanted in different bon shaman rites.

Trees While the stratified ecological zones indexed to generic topographical features and substrate types logically map out a vertical itinerary for ritual descents and ascents, undoubtedly the most significant type of eco-referents are tree or plant species. These are always named according to local taxonomies and include mountain forest trees from the cypress family (Cupressaceae), other conifers, oaks, while at medium altitudes one or two other evergreen broadleaf species, and at some sites also highland bamboo. Their importance is twofold. These trees are strongly identified with the Srid-pa’i lha as their lha shing or ‘deity trees’. They are a key feature of the material culture of rites in the cult. The lha shing – whether a living specimen growing in a sacred grove, or as a fresh-cut pole/ritual arrow/notched ladder fashioned from a tree trunk/branch and erected like a living tree – is always a central altar component. They represent the vertical axis between sky and earth domains of the cosmos, up and down which both deities and bon

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shamans travel. They are the preferred ‘pure’ landing and resting places for the lha while on earth, and thus the ideal site at which offerings can be made and received, and these are in fact often hung directly upon or placed adjacent to the lha shing in one way or another. Thus, the tree is the final conduit down which the lha’s vitality and fertility flows during rites before it is ritually harvested. Wood and leaves of ritually significant trees can be used in a wide variety of ways to transfer these productive powers to cult participants. It is for this reason that the main ritual site for staging festivals in the cult is either a sacred grove in which grow one or more ritually protected lha shing trees, or an altar construction which incorporates erect, cut lha shing branches to replicate the presence of the trees, or both. To my knowledge, the oldest reference to the lha shing as landing and resting point upon the earth world for a lha occurs in the descent narrative itinerary (Gshegs rabs) of gNya’khri bTsan-po, a narrative which is strongly inf luenced by reuse of language from old ritual texts. The progenitor emperor arrives at a forest with birds’ nests and reaches the base of a regularly cited mythical tree (shing), the Mu-le Grum, and from the top of which he must later defend himself against attacks by local srin spirits.104 The second significance of tree and plant species as eco-referents is that they are a primary purifying substance used to ‘eliminate’ (sel) anything undesirable or polluting on the path from sky to earth along which the lha’s vitality and fertility flows. Sel elimination rites of one type or another, and sometimes as a whole cycle of sub-rites, must be performed to ensure the unhindered arrival and transfer of life forces during revitalisation festivals. The use of tree and plant species for fumigation is the most common and widespread form of these rites. Thus, the stratified tree eco-referents represent a pure pathway along which vitality flows from one pure point in the natural environment to the next as the shaman’s verbal ritual journey to conduct the lha to the altar proceeds, stage by stage. These trees are ordered into an elaborate genealogical classification used within the cult’s Sel rabs cycle. This groups and ranks all purifying plant species (trees, shrubs and herbs) in a threefold scheme for use in sel rites: the ‘nine father trees of sunny slopes’ (bdag shing pha dgu); ‘nine mother trees of shady slopes’ (srib shing ma

dgu); and ‘nine son [or: child?] trees of the valleys’ (lung shing bu dgu).105 This ninefold classification of trees used in the cult has ancient precedents occurring already in a preeleventh century Old Tibetan ritual text.106 The same tree classification is also found describing ritual materials used by the sel specialist named Ya-ngal (or termed ya ngal) in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts107 from gTam-shul, just north of the Srid-pa’i lha cult region. Such references indicate a strong continuity between the Ya-ngal passages in both dGa’-thang and cult manuscripts, which I explore further in chapter 15. The same purifying tree classification is also important from a wider comparative perspective. The Naxi dtô-mbà ritual specialist tradition from north-west Yunnan includes purifying rites based upon fumigation with nine different tree species classified as ‘father’ and ‘mother’.108 Moreover, these rites occur within the Naxi Muân bpò’ festival, which is ethnographically the most closely cognate phenomena in relation to festivals for Srid-pa’i lha worship (see ch. 17).

Environmental Boundaries A second significant aspect of local eco-referent sequences is their frequent invocation of environmental transitions or ‘boundaries’ (mtshams) as particular sites of activity. These boundaries always identify the place of first encounter between the descending deity and the human inviter or host. The wording for this in ritual texts is invariably something like, ‘They met at the boundary of the slates and the meadows’ (g.ya’ dang spang bu’i mtshams su mjal) or ‘... at the boundary of meadows and forest’ (spang dang nags mtshams), and so forth. These meeting points at boundaries feature in the origin myth sections of many written and oral ritual antecedent narratives for Srid-pa’i lha worship. The actual festival grounds used in the cult are frequently located at the boundary of, or ‘in between’ (mtshams), two successive ecological zones, or the slab altars used by bon shamans are even decorated to replicate such ecological transitions. This ritual and mythical pattern of the boundary in the natural environment also ref lects exactly the wording used in many older Tibetan rites and myths. For example, in the ca. eleventh-twelfth century Bka’ chems ka

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khol ma, the progenitor emperor, who is classed as a Srid-pa Phywa’i lha, descends from the top of the thirteenth level of the sky onto a peak, and is then met by a group of skilful bon po specialists ‘at the boundary of the slates and meadows’ (g.ya’ dang spang gi mtshams na). 109 The same boundaries between ecological zones are points of dangerous and even lethal encounters in ritual antecedent narratives recorded in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts from southernmost Central Tibet. 110 These same boundary points also feature as the location of royal strongholds, and in the vertical ecological hierarchy for the establishment of royal burial sites.111

River Courses Within our own terrestrial cosmic division upon the earth, the ‘river course’ or ‘watercourse’ (chu rgyud) is undoubtedly the most significant topographical feature for the flow of vitality in all its forms in Srid-pa’i lha cult myths and ritual speech. Here we encounter a major contrast between the cult and the symbolic systems of many other local and regional cults of the neighbouring Tibetan Plateau and adjacent Himalayan highlands where Tibetan influence is strongly felt; in such cults it is the mountain that occupies the central role. Chu rgyud can refer to both rivers and their flowing waters, but also the valleys or lumpa (CT lung pa, klung pa) along which they flow and in which they are contained. Thus, they represent an orientation, a path or conduit and a vector as much, if not more, as they do a medium. Upstream and downstream flows defined by the chu rgyud orientation are crucial for a number of overlapping domains of life and death and life-cycle activity, including human, bird and animal movements, the production cycle and, not least of all, rites for Srid-pa’i lha worship. In local narratives of early settlement by the ancestors of later Srid-pa’i lha worship communities, including those written down already centuries ago, river courses are the main axis of migration for newcomers, and they are thus the basis for dividing up the territories of settlement groups and bon shamans alike. 112 In key myths of the cult, including the old gDung origin tales in the seventeenth century

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Rgyal rigs, the embodied ‘soul’ or mobile vitality principle of the progenitor lha sent down to earth transits the watercourses. In one myth, it is embodied in a dead corpse disposed of in the river, which is then combined with a fish. After initially flowing downstream, it then flows upstream along the local river courses on its journey to ultimately revitalise human descent lineages. 113 Exactly the same downstream/death > upstream/life mythical scheme combining a being who is a sky-descended lha, a dead corpse, water burial and a classificatory ‘fish’ is found within the very old narrative of Dri-gum bTsan-po recorded in the Old Tibetan Chronicle. The Dri-gum myth, too, is set in the borderlands between southernmost Tibetan areas and the adjacent Himalayan highlands. All these narratives appear to be related, and certainly have the same geographical setting, while their key motifs are characteristically those of the extended eastern Himalayas and adjacent highlands of south-west China and Southeast Asia, rather than anything known from the Tibetan Plateau. 114 In concert with the river’s importance in the Dri-gum myth, there are Old Tibetan narratives from the southern Silk Road in which the river course is the ritual axis required for restoring life powers using ‘ransom’ (glud) rites (ch. 7). The verbal ritual journeys that bon shamans undertake to acquire vitality I detail in chapter 7 are invariably upstream along local river courses before ascending vertically into the sky. The descending shaman, the accompanying lha and the birds which are interpreted as signalling their arrival and presence, must all fly along the river courses to reach the human community in order to revitalise it. As in the myths and rites just cited, the flow of life after death is similarly linked to river course orientation across what all the data in this study revealed to be the older, core region of Srid-pa’i lha cult distribution. This covers the areas where related Dzala and Dakpa languages are spoken, or in other places where their speakers have had a strong cultural-historical presence. This older, core region extends in a broad arc from the Khoma Chu valley in the west, through Tawang and down into the central Mon-yul Corridor. In all those areas, the normative or preferred method of corpse disposal – excepting deceased Buddhist clerics – might best be described as ‘water exposure’. 115

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The corpse is usually dismembered into a symbolic number of pieces – ideally 100 or 108, including the intact head counted as one of the total pieces – after which both the head and larger bones are crushed before being finally cast into the main river course near the settlement. There are rare occasions when a whole corpse is cast into a river without dismemberment, and in certain cases corpses may be temporarily buried in the earth or kept in coffins for storage and then later exhumed and taken to the nearest suitable river. It is significant that corpse disposal via ‘water exposure’ in the form just described for the wider Dakpa and Dzala settlement region is still so widespread and persistent, given Buddhist rites and religious discourses have had such a strong impact upon dealing with death throughout the region in general. We know that in almost every other Himalayan context where shamans have been key ritual specialists, they are charged with conducting death rites, but especially the guiding or dispatch of the deceased person’s enduring mobile vitality principle or soul to another cosmic realm. Yet, that is not – or no longer – the case in the research region, although evidence indicates that it would have been the case during the past (see ch. 15). Buddhist lamas and their rites today have a monopoly over dealing with death. The main point is that the ritual pattern of downstream corpse disposal along river courses still marks the direction of death, while upstream movements, like the bon shaman’s goal-oriented ritual journeys, emphatically mark the direction of gaining new life.

Migratory Birds The seasonally determined upstream-downstream rhythm of migratory bird flight along the north-south river courses in the region is also very significant within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Specific rites feature it in relation to cleansing the vitality-bearing lha when they cyclically descend to revitalise the world. The key ‘migratory bird’ (CT dus bya) species appearing in the cult are of two kinds. There are seasonally present birds on longer migratory cycles from outside the region, such as cuckoo, black-necked crane, wild geese or ducks and swallows. There are also various gallinaceous

species like pheasant and grouse that move seasonally between higher/upstream and lower/downstream ecological zones within local valley systems. Particularly noteworthy is a complete lack of representation here of the large ‘power birds’, like raptors and bird of prey species, so common in the symbolic systems of other cults across the neighbouring Tibetan Plateau, and even though all those types of birds are present in the Himalayas. The significance of wildlife is yet another marker – like the lack of mountains as a key reference in the cult – that we are dealing with a non-Tibetan cultural complex. Cuckoos, cranes, wild waterfowl and the wild Galliformes are all the typical birds occurring in various shamanic tradition-complexes elsewhere along the Himalayas, as well as in North Asia or Siberia. Seasonal, migratory bird f light is widely used by eastern Himalayan highland farmers and swidden cultivators as an indicator of key transition periods in their local agricultural calendars, and in some cases it is incorporated into local rites. 116 One such rite from the Sel cycle for ‘elimination’ (sel) in the cult is chanted as the Narrative of the Four Seasonal Periods (Nam zla dus bzhi rabs). Based upon the eggbirth cosmogonic motif so often found in old ‘bon’-identified rabs from Tibet and Naxi ritual texts, the bon shaman’s chant for the rite reveals the intimate connections between seasonal appearances of birds, their elemental status and various calls, and the purification and well-being of the lha: [19b]

Both the father rGya-brag dKar-po and The mother Gangs-kyi gSum-tshi, Those two procreated, and from their union Four original eggs came into being. The golden egg that was yellow burst open, And a bird that depends upon the element earth, The so-called yellow bird of gold emerged. It possessed wings of yellow Chinese silk. It possessed feet of precious coral. It possessed a beak of precious gold. It broadcast the sweet call of stong stong. The first spring, second spring and third months of spring; For the period of these three months of spring, The bird that depends upon the element earth

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Purifies and cleanses lha who are unhappy. They are cleansed by the song of the twittering little lark. The turquoise egg that was blue burst open, And a bird that depends upon the element water, The so-called blue bird of turquoise emerged. It possessed wings of blue Chinese silk. [20a] It possessed feet of precious copper. It possessed a beak of precious turquoise. It broadcast the sweet call of stong stong. The first summer, second summer and third months of summer; For the period of these three months of summer, The bird that depends upon the element water Purifies and cleanses lha who are unhappy. They are cleansed by the call of the blue cuckoo. The copper egg that was red burst open, And a bird that depends upon the element fire, The so-called red bird of copper emerged. It possessed wings of red Chinese silk. It possessed feet of precious copper. It possessed a beak of precious copper. It broadcast the sweet call of stong stong. The first autumn, second autumn and third months of autumn; For the period of these three months of autumn, The bird that depends upon the element fire Purifies and cleanses lha who are unhappy. [20b] They are cleansed by the trumpeting of the white crane.117 The silver egg that was white burst open, And a bird that depends upon the element wind, The so-called white bird of silver emerged. It possessed wings of white Chinese silk. It possessed feet of precious silver. It possessed a beak of precious silver. It broadcast the sweet call of stong stong. The first winter, second winter and third months of winter; For the period of these three months of winter, The bird that depends upon the element wind Purifies and cleanses lha who are unhappy.

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They are cleansed by the honking of the white wild goose. Be purified! Be cleansed!118 Such ritual texts are both local and very empirical,119 being based upon knowledge of actual bird behaviour and ecological facts within the research region. Larks come upstream, breed in spring and make distinctive mating calls. Of the seven species known to occur in Bhutan and western Arunachal Pradesh, the shaman’s chant here probably refers to the common and widespread rufous-winged bush lark (Mirafra assamica), whose call is a repetition of disyllabic notes delivered during a song-flight.120 The Himalayan cuckoo (Cuculus saturatus) migrates from lowland Southeast Asia, upstream into the forested Himalayan hills to breed each summer, and downstream one again in autumn. Populations of black-necked crane (Grus nigricollis) from the Tibetan Plateau migrate southwards and thus downstream from October on, to overwinter within highland Himalayan valleys, flying upstream again the following spring to breed. Finally, the bar-headed goose (Anser indicus) apparently being referred to here,121 migrates south from the Tibetan Plateau and downstream into lower Himalayan valley floors and fields or passes through such areas en route to Assam to overwinter, before its upstream journey back to Tibet to breed. The characteristic assigned each bird name in the chant is also realistic. The point is, all these birds seasonally move upstream to breed and downstream to return, which is the same pattern as the bon shaman on a ritual journey to obtain vitality, and in the company of the fertilising lha they fetch and escort. It is no wonder such bird species are often identified with the presence of the lha while some, such as the cuckoo, grouse and wild goose or duck, are explicitly referred to as ‘lha birds’ (lha bya) within the cult and by some other local communities. Such ‘lha bird’ status means the designated bird is believed to be a herald or sign from the land of the lha above the earth’s surface down to which it descends, and it reflects an aspect of ancient regional folk culture. As we will see in chapters to follow, the descending and ascending lha, as a flying being, is frequently described as a ‘bird’ in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The bon shamans themselves are often closely identified with or assimilated to birds and f lying creatures due to

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their ritual ‘flights’ upstream and downstream and vertically into the sky, as well as their intimate associations with the flying lha.

Nature’s Response A final point closely related to the lower strata of the vertical cosmographic scheme is that whenever the Srid-pa’i lha descend as far as the immediate natural realm of the earth world, that which we humans can perceive directly around us, their presence evokes a spontaneous response. This response comes from the forces of nature, the physical environment itself, and from the various living beings that the environment sustains. In Srid-pa’i lha narratives, nature’s response mainly manifests as different forms of light and sound, phenomena that accompany the deities as they descend. For example, a rabs chanted by the bon po of Changmadung in east Bhutan (ch. 10) describes nature’s response to ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s descent through the stages of the atmosphere all the way down to the place of worship as follows: When he arrived in the upper atmosphere, It shone with a rainbow light, ki li li. From there, the lha went on and arrived in the intermediate atmosphere. When he arrived in the intermediate atmosphere, The turquoise-blue thunder dragon [roared], di ri ri. From there, the lha went on, and arrived at the snows. The lha went on and arrived on the summit of a white snow mountain. From the summit of the white snow mountain, the white flag of the protective deity broadcast a [flapping] sound. From there, he arrived at the boundary between the slate meadows and the forest, And the lha’s bird, the grouse, sang its song. When he arrived in the land of human beings, Their bon po called out three times, “Worship! Offerings!” And the sound of their drums, horns and cymbals rang out.122

In the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript, the five deities descending from the thirteenth level of the sky world are also greeted with the same phenomena when they appear: When the lha arrive, a great roar comes from the [thunder] dragon; A sweet song comes from the cuckoo. The clear light of the sun and moon comes forth. A beautiful rainbow manifests, As does dazzling radiance. Magnificent towering clouds form, And lightning’s rapid messenger appears.123 Since the Srid-pa’i lha are sky beings, much of living nature’s response to them is typically ‘atmospheric’ in character, and even many of the sonic responses are associated with flying creatures of the sky, such as the dragon, but especially birds. The idea of the natural world physically responding to the arrival of progenitor sky lha is ancient in Tibet, being first recorded in the opening sections of the pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan Chronicle and then recycled into later redactions of the myth of the progenitor emperor’s descent.124

2.8 Motifs of Life’s Beginnings To finish summarising the f lows of vitality within the Srid-pa’i lha cosmos, we can return to their beginnings, and briefly recount four recurring motifs in the cult’s mythical accounts of the origins of the world, but particularly those of first human life. The first three motifs all relate to the ontological condition or status of first things and beings, and can be summarised as miniscule beginnings, bird-human hybrids and mutuality, and primordial dwarf humans who are also impotent or incomplete. The fourth motif concerns the sky and lakes as places of origin.

Miniscule Beginnings While cult cosmogonies often commence with what Claudia Seele defined as the ‘non-existence’ (med)/‘existence’

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(yod) motif found in various ‘bon’-identified narratives,125 unlike these other sources the cult’s cosmogony then develops with the very beginnings of existence unfolding from miniscule or germinal units of reality. An example of this is given in chapter 11. This is a rare cosmogonic motif in Tibetan language materials, although it is known form the eastern Himalayas. It parallels or appears to set the scene for two other frequently encountered motifs expressing an initially miniature and/or incomplete creation, a sort of false start to life. The second motif is of human co-evolution with birds or appearance of hybrid ornithomorphic beings, while the third motif features primordial dwarfs or stunted humans whose existence is compromised and whose faculties are incomplete.

Bird-Human Hybrids and Mutuality In the second motif, both lha and humans come into the world associated with birds. They are sometimes together as ‘little humans’ (mi’u) and ‘little birds’ (byi’u or bye’u) combining the third motif, 126 at other times as hybrid beings with human bodies possessing bird legs, bird eyes, feathers and so forth, or as birds which lack feathers. The motif is possibly related to – although not dependent upon – another widespread cosmogonic motif, that of egg-birth 127 commonly occurring in many ‘bon’-identified narratives, including those in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts128 from gTam-shul, and many narratives used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. However, the specific bird-human or bird-hybrid being motif is far less common in all the available materials from Tibet and the Himalayas. This motif has a specific geography of occurrence along the interface between the Tibetan Plateau and the extended eastern Himalayas, where it features in localised shamanic tradition complexes. Himalayan shamans and their actions are frequently assimilated to birds in various ways. The motif is also as old as the earliest recorded myth and ritual texts in this general region. It already occurs several times in dGa’-thang manuscripts129 adjacent to the Srid-pa’i lha cult region, and we find it in a particularly poignant form in the eleventh century Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts from immediately adjacent lHo-brag, in which ‘little lha’ (lhe’u)

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who become new human lives are intimately attended by ‘small birds’ (bye’u) (see ch. 15). It occurs in historic Mon and rKong-po associated with children,130 then further east in a creation narrative in the Naxi settlement zone of north-west Yunnan,131 while its western terminus appears to be in the myths chanted by the northern Magar shamans of western central Nepal, also in a creation account.132 As will be seen in sections below, and in part III, not only is this second motif still encoded into the cult’s main myths, its strong echoes occur in identities of Srid-pa’i lha who are assimilated to birds, as well as in the small flying cosmic go-betweens like bats and birds whose primordial actions form the model repeated in the bon shaman’s practice, but especially in rites when the bon shaman himself connects the cosmic realms of earth and sky by flying like a bird, and who has various bird-identified features in his costume. Indeed, myths frequently define the primordial worldly crisis which the cult addresses by explicitly including the fate of birds alongside that of humans and their livestock, with the birds either having flown away, lacking feathers or left with no place to perch, while the reverse of these circumstances marks the resolution of the crisis. This particular motif of human-bird correlation in crisis in the cult is also found in the old manuscripts from dGa’-thang and the lHo-brag region which are the undoubted sources of much content in the cult’s rites, narrative profile and cosmological perspectives (see ch. 15).

Primordial Dwarf Humans In the third motif, primordial humans appear in the myths variously defined as ‘dwarfs (lit. ‘little humans’)’ (mi’u),133 ‘small dwarfs’ (mi’u chung), ‘dwarf men’ or ‘dwarf sMra-ba’134 (mi chung smra ba), ‘original small humans’ (srid pa’i mi chung), ‘reduced/less than humans’ (mi nyung), 135 and so forth. Moreover, the so-called ‘Four Groups of Little Humans’ (mi’u rigs bzhi or mi’u rus bzhi) who are the quadripartite, primordial proto-groups in all Srid-pa’i lha myths always descend from and carry this marker of their dwarf ancestors into the future. 136 In Tibetan language sources from the actual Tibetan Plateau itself, the oldest record of these ideas of miniature human beginnings are found in the rites and cosmology in the eleventh century

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Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript from the lHo-brag – northeast Bhutan/northern Mon-yul Corridor interface which is treated in chapter 15 and appendix J. In those texts, the start of life comes from lha ancestors in the sky in the form of lhe’u or ‘little lha’ who descend to earth to become ne’u zhon or ‘young ones’, and with these little lhe’u and ne’u zhon being intimately attended by ‘small birds’ (bye’u). According to all currently available evidence, there is now little doubt these old ritual texts give us the original cosmological and mythical motif complex for reuse in the mi’u rigs ‘groups of little humans’ classificatory scheme which begin to appear – apparently out of nowhere – in posteleventh century Classical Tibetan literature. The notion of first beings as children, child-like or diminutive is widespread in cosmogonies among highland populations of the extended eastern Himalayas. A recurring sub-theme of the dwarf ancestor motif in the Srid-pa’i lha cult is that the first little humans are always incomplete or compromised in ways that demonstrate a fundamental lack of vitality or obstruction of its flow. They can hardly function in terms of their faculties and abilities – muteness and deafness are typical – they are weak and susceptible to illness, even to the point of being comatose or hovering between life and death, nor can they reproduce properly. The second and third motifs already occur in a ritual antecedent narrative about a sMra-ba ‘man offspring’ (mi bu) born with a tiny mouth all but mute, and with bird’s wings and feet, 137 in the dGa’-thang manuscripts from lHo-brag which are the oldest known ‘local’ source of so much content in the cult. It is no wonder these themes lay at the heart of the primary mythical model for rites of revitalisation within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Narratives featuring compromised or stunted proto-human beings, often related to birds, and the initial ritual solutions used to restore their full vitality, are repeated in many permutations across all major rabs chanted by the bon shaman. These first three motifs – miniscule beginnings, bird-human hybrids and mutuality, and dwarf original humans who are also impotent or incomplete – are present together in the cult, and while they do occur in other Tibetan and Himalayan myths they are very rare in this specific combination.

The exception is that all three motifs occur together in Naxi anthropogenic myths and other ritual texts used by the dtô-mbà ritual specialists of north-west Yunnan.138 For instance, in the opening cosmogonic sections of the Ts’ò mbêr ssáw myth informing the Naxi Muân bpò’ festivals for cyclic revitalisation – communal ritual events which offer the closest known parallels to Srid-pa’i lha worship – there are ‘shadow’ forms of the elements of reality which precede their proper existence.139 In the next stage of creation, when actual beings first appear, the myth describes three classificatory ‘birds’ heading the first generations of ‘fine and good people’ to appear at the summit of the cosmic mountain: the white wagtail, the crow and the white butterfly. 140 Moreover, along with the related motif of primordial proximity to birds, what Charles McKhann termed “themes of incompleteness, impotency and inability”141 are also well represented in the Ts’ò mbêr ssáw narrative chanted during Muân bpò’, not to mention in anthropogenic myths of the neighbouring Moso.142 When the primordial Naxi shaman, Dtô-mbà Shí-lô, must be persuaded to descend from the eighteenth level of the sky, to solve the crisis of the people in the land of Dzî-gyù-lâ-lêr-dù’, he is told by the bat who is a messenger, “There was no place for the people to dwell, no perch for the birds, and no place to tie up the cattle.” Then, following his ritual intervention, “Now the people could again dwell in Dzî-gyù-lâ-lêr-dù’, the cattle could be tied up, and the birds had a perch.”143 Almost the same wording occurs in myths of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Thus, we are dealing with mythically and cosmologically identical schemes. The significance of this and many other parallels and connections between the cult and Naxi rites and myths noted throughout the book will be drawn out in detail in chapter 17.

Sky and Lake Origins Finally, we can brief ly note a motif of origin places for human life. This is most frequently focussed upon the sky as the ultimate realm from where ancestor-protector deities descend, and from whom in turn humans are descended. This sky origins motif occurs most commonly in cosmogonic and clan origin myths, examples of which are given

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throughout the book. The motif often occurs combined with one of lake origins. This gives the impression of two originally different traditions having become combined, but also of sky and lake forming an origin continuum of sorts, one in which they reflect each other at either end of a cosmic realm. It is noteworthy that this combination is most apparent in the origin myths of the oldest known lineages and clans participating in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For example, both the old regional populations called Dung (or gDung) and Dakpa (Dag-pa) who are among the principal, hereditary worshippers in the cult, have lineage origin stories in which their lha ancestor-protectors first descend from the sky, while their human offspring then emerge from the lake the deity has gone to. To mark the relation, the sky motif is encoded into the lake’s name. The Dung origin lake is often named sKar-ma-thang meaning ‘Star Plain’. An alternative name for it in some myths is Mu-ku-lung which is a Dzala and Dakpa place name meaning ‘Land/Valley of the Mu’ (ku is the genitive in these East Bodish languages), which links it to the ‘Land of the rMu’ (rMu’i yul) in the sky from where the Dung ancestral deity Gu-se Lang-ling has descended.144 Another cognate ‘celestial’ origin lake name for an old clan complex involved in the cult is the gNamsgo mTsho or ‘Sky Door Lake’ of the gTsang[-mo] (or older lCang) clan ancestors at Yewang in the Mon-yul Corridor. 145 As with the other motifs of origin in the cult cited above, the particular combination of interconnected sky and lake origin motifs is also found in the Naxi Ts’ò mbêr ssáw narrative.146

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3.

Pr incipa l Deiti es of Wor ship

Initial reports of Srid-pa’i lha worship within the research region sometimes described it as directed towards the lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. While ritual interest in this deity is certainly the most widespread, he represents just one among a wide variety of Srid-pa’i lha addressed by different communities. Moreover, the Srid-pa’i lha are themselves one type among a range of different non-human beings involved in worship. They all fall within three broad categories that must be analytically distinguished. In the first category are the principal deities toward whom all major worship is directed since they are believed to be the only ones dispensing the aspirations sought by worshippers. These are always classed as lha and designated as ancestral beings or ‘ancestor-protectors’ using specific terminology. Srid-pa’i lha all dwell up on, and thus must be invited to descend from, the top of the sky world, or at very least from up the vertical cosmic axis. They will be introduced below mainly on the basis of how they are represented in the rabs narratives used during rites, and in the oral discourse of persons and communities who worship Srid-pa’i lha. Virtually no iconographic representation in the form of paintings and statues exists in the cult, with the exception of a few very modest painted scrolls or manuscript illustrations (e.g., pls. 4, 11, 12, 13) in the hereditary possession of bon shamans in north-eastern Bhutan. A second category of non-human beings can be thought of broadly as auxiliary deities or helping spirits. There are two types of personal auxiliaries invoked by bon shamans for support during certain rites. One type has an ancestral character, being the primordial or semi-divine ritual specialist, or ‘first shaman’, from whom a specific lineage of specialists originated, and from whom they trace their

descent. They can be termed variously bon, bon po, gshen or mtshe mi, and their exact identities vary between sites and descent lineages. A second type are classified with the two interchangeable terms gsas and lha and are invoked to be deployed upon and surrounding the body parts and the costume and accoutrements of the ritual specialist. Both types of auxiliaries will be dealt with in parts III and IV. Other helping spirits can include various non-human beings of the phenomenal world who are temporarily petitioned or enlisted by the ritual specialist on a purely functional basis during rites. Most commonly, this is because the sites for Srid-pa’i lha worship located within the natural environment must be temporarily borrowed from such worldly deities for use, or their services as local hosts or ‘staff’ (cooks, watchmen, etc.) for the Srid-pa’i lha must be temporarily enlisted during the latter’s sojourn upon earth for the duration of worship. Examples of them are given in the ethnographic documentation of part IV. The final category of deities is of minor significance. These are purely local spirits of territory and the environment to whom at least passing reference must be made during certain rites. They are usually invoked in a negative sense, that is, pre-emptively to avoid any interference they might cause which could hinder smooth worship of the Srid-pa’i lha and attainment of ritual goals. 1 These latter deities are often referred to merely by their generic classifications, such as bdud, btsan and klu, and even at times in rather disparaging terms. Examples of all these characteristics are given in chapters 9 through 13. When such deities are accorded prominence at any given site, this is usually a clear indication that actual Srid-pa’i lha worship is in local decline or has completely ceased. And it is especially an index of the

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absence of a hereditary bon shaman who is the dedicated Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialist, and his replacement by other types of specialists who habitually deal with territorial deities and spirits of the environment.

3.1

Category Designations

Srid-pa’i lha, its generic abbreviation lha, and the less common Phya are all local written classifications for the main deities featuring in the cult. They occur in manuscripts and are chanted in oral texts, and to a certain extent are interchangeable. These are not originally Himalayan terms, but all derive from older cosmology and myth associated with cultural and political systems of the Tibetan Plateau and its margin regions, and their earlier roots are significant in the present context. The simple term lha is almost always glossed as ‘god’ by outside observers. While technically correct in a certain sense, it is also ‘ontologically hollow’ to the point of being meaningless and misleading in many contexts. As a specific category of beings in Tibetan and high Himalayan cosmologies, lha are contrasted with other classes of beings as those invariably associated with heights and the sky or heavens, dwelling above all others. Consistent with this, lha referring to sky beings first occurs in Old Tibetan documents and inscriptions. Based directly upon this older cosmology, we thus commonly find the expressions gnam lha (or gnam gi lha) and dgung lha used for the principal deities of worship in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. A second earlier character of the lha in the same Old Tibetan sources is their explicit role as patrilineal ancestors (yab myes, pha myes). Michael Walter and Christopher Beckwith have stressed that, “[i]n the [Tibetan] imperial period lha refers to the ancestral spirit of the imperial family and other noble families.”2 Srid-pa’i lha worship in my research region preserves the same notion of lha as ancestors of human descent groups such as clan and lineage, agnate group, family or natal household. Like lha, the name Phywa already appears in Old Tibetan inscriptions designating the imperial ancestors who are lha.3 As noted in chapter 2, this same name occurs in the cult to designate ancestral Srid-pa’i lha, but written Phya and with an ambivalent status in relation to phya designating

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a positive, productive life force which, too, occurs in Old Tibetan documents with this general meaning, especially in divinations and prognoses. The expression Srid-pa’i lha (more rarely Srid-pa lha) only appears in post-eleventh century sources to my present knowledge. The nominal and adjectival term srid pa is uncommon in Old Tibetan (srid is common), and it especially does not occur in category terms or names for deities. In that context, it is certainly a product of later intentional reuse of older language. Rolf Stein pointed out that during the early post-eleventh century period, redactors drawing upon older documents began reusing some of the recurring vocabulary of ritual and political significance. 4 At some stage, later writers and those mainly composing g.Yung-drung Bon texts, converted certain verbs, adjectives and adverbs, including srid, skos, gtsug and mkhyen, into new classificatory nouns designating novel classes of deities, such as the gTsug, sKos and Srid-pa beings. A closely related phenomenon occurring in early g.Yungdrung Bon hagiography, and one relevant here, is later recycling of Old Tibetan deity categories and personal names into place names (see below).5 Once reused srid and srid pa appear in this manner, their deployment often borders on being prof ligate; g.Yung-drung Bon authors began applying these terms to just about everything in early texts such as the Gzer mig. By the fourteenth century, we also find terms like srid pa’i bon po or srid pa rgyud kyi bon po describing idealised ritual specialists in works such as the Gzi brjid. However, beyond the bounds of myth we have no idea how and even if they related to actual human agents. The srid pa’i lha and srid pa’i lha rabs terminologies all occur in early Classical Tibetan materials recorded by Buddhist authors which reframe older traditions of myths and rites,6 and which represent textual traditions parallel to those of the g.Yung-drung Bon religion. Thus, while these terms may have arisen from a linguistic process motivated by religious formation, they apparently only expressed folk cultural concerns and motifs. To our present knowledge, this is what lies behind the appearance of the category name Srid-pa’i lha as it is found in the Sridpa’i lha cult. This was not, however, the only derivation of the Srid-pa’i lha category name.

Pr incipa l Deities of Wor ship

The principal deities of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in my research region are not to be confused with forms of the so-called Srid-pa Chags-pa’i lHa-dgu7 which are found listed mainly in sources composed or redacted by Buddhist lamas. In such sources, this label refers to a set of nine localised deities who have no connection to the sky world. Rather, they are purely earth-bound, with their mountain abodes located upon the Tibetan Plateau. As I will continue to emphasise throughout this study, the principal deities of the cult have no direct or necessary relationship with mountains and/or territory since their permanent abode is the top of the sky. The cult of the Srid-pa Chags-pa’i lHadgu is best understood as a refiguring of two types of cultural materials by religious agents. One is an older and as yet little-known grouping of deities related to a series of ancient and heavily mythologised minor polities or clan territories, while the other appears to be selected aspects and identities from the gNya’-khri bTsan-po myth and related origin narratives. Typical of religious missionary intent, the versions of the cult of the Srid-pa Chagspa’i lHa-dgu are not exclusive to specific human descent groups, as is the case for the principal deities in the Sridpa’i lha cult. Rather, they are universal in scope. Both symbolically and geographically, they eventually encompassed the entire Tibetan Plateau region in a totalising scheme, again in keeping with the religious missionary approach to monopolising domains of rites and myths.8

An Obscure ‘Ancestral Deity’ Term The last category designation for deities in the cult is far more unique than Tibetan lha or Srid-pa’i lha, and represents a different substratum of the cult’s background altogether. In many communities who worship Srid-pa’i lha, but especially in the context of their calendric festivals, I recorded a previously unnoticed word best understood as meaning ‘ancestral deity’ or ‘ancestor being’. Across a range of neighbouring languages in this region, the word’s variable spoken forms include se/ce/zhi (Dzala, Dakpa, Kurtöp), zhe (Khengkha, Chocha-ngacha9) and chi/chis (Tshangla). Moreover, in bon shaman manuscripts used during cult festivals in communities speaking all these languages, the

Tibetan script orthographies se, zhi, [g/b]zhe[s],10 [r]je, pyi and phyi occur to represent variations of the same word. W hat appears to be the same or a closely related word occurs among speakers of currently unclassified and nontextualised languages or dialects of the so-called Kho-Bwa cluster in far western Arunachal Pradesh, with the spoken forms chik (Rahung Sartang), khik/khit (Mey/Sherdukpen) and highly likely also tchat in as yet unclassified Bugun. These latter occurrences, too, are all related to the same type of festival as those staged in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. This ‘ancestral deity’ word is found used as a stand-alone substantive, or in compounds, and is regularly appended to formal proper names as a final, classificatory suffix. However, the distribution of both types of usage in speech and written texts is specific to certain language communities. The oldest dateable occurrence of this ‘ancestral deity’ word is the -se classificatory suffix preserved in the name Gu-se Lang-ling in manuscripts of the Rgyal rigs first composed in written in Classical Tibetan in 1688. We now know the name Gu-se literally means ‘Gu ancestral deity’ or ‘Gu ancestor being’ in context. Although this is the earliest record we have, the -se form in Gu-se is linguistically the most innovative,11 and thus probably represents a particular artefact of the recording of the Rgyal rigs itself.12 I will discuss the deity identity Gu-se Lang-ling fully below. Here we can note that the name and the worship – or its surviving traces – of the old deity Gu-se, who is locally called Guzhi/ Guse/Guzhe/Gurce/Gurzhe/Guruzhe/Gurse (variously written Gu-zhi, Gu-se, Gur-[r]je, Gur-[b]zhe[s], Gur-se and so on), occurs at scores of Srid-pa’i lha cult sites distributed east to west from Tawang across to the Jamkhar Chu valley in Kheng Chikor, and north to south from Kurtö down to Kheng Bjoka. Yet, the ethnographic data also reveal that the widespread but singular cult of Gu-se represents a regional exception. Indeed, the highest concentrations of ‘ancestral deity’ names marked by the same classificatory suffix only occur in the myths and rites of Dzala and Dakpa speakers settled in parallel valleys along the Khoma Chu and upper Kholong Chu river catchments in north-east Bhutan, and in the Tawang district to the east. Thus, in local oral chants and ritual manuscripts used in these valleys to celebrate both surviving and recently defunct festivals for Srid-pa’i

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lha ancestral deities, we find, in addition to occurrences of Gu-se name variants, the written names Khu-brangzhe, Chus-zhes, ’Thing-se-zhe, [m]Tho’u-[g/b]zhe[s] (also Tho’u-je and Tha’u-rje), [g]Nam-[’/r]dor-zhe (also Nam’dir-zhe), rNa’u-rje, Phong-phong-zhe, Mo-bzhe and Yolong-rje along with their spoken forms. These names all apply to clan ancestor beings who descend from the sky, and clan social organisation is evident until today in most communities where they are still worshipped. Moreover, it is only in the Dzala and Dakpa speaking zone that we find any evidence of the ‘ancestral deity’ word used as a substantive, rather than merely as a suffix to proper names. In chapter 17, I will demonstrate that this culturally and linguistically very specific se/ce/zhe/zhi/chi/chis (and perhaps khik/khit/tchat) ‘ancestral being/deity’ category term finds its closest cognates in Qiangic and Naic languages spoken in modern Sichuan and Yunnan along the far eastern Marches of the Tibetan Plateau system. This, and a host of other indicators, reveals the origins of an older substratum in the Srid-pa’i lha cult.

3.2 ’O-de Gung-rgyal The lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal 13 is the most prominent and universal deity identity occurring in the cult of Srid-pa’i lha. I will first survey the representations of ’O-de Gung-rgyal in cult rites and myths in use today, with reference to earlier Tibetan sources informing these. Secondly, I will explore what we can still trace of the cultural history of ’O-de Gungrgyal’s identity as it is related to themes of revitalisation and other ’O-named beings representing life-giving ancestors. ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s representation throughout the distribution range of Srid-pa’i lha worship is very consistent. He always appears as a senior lha and ‘alpha’-progenitor who fathers all types of beings, and is thus conceived of as a universal, life-giving ancestor. I will follow up the older background to this theme in the next section. ’O-de Gug-rgyal is addressed as a ‘great lha’ (lha chen) and the ‘lha of the sky’ (gnam gyi lha, also gnam lha, dgung lha,

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steng gyi lha), and his abode is invariably mentioned as being ‘on top’ or ‘above’ (steng du) the thirteenth level of the sky world along with the other Srid-pa’i lha or Phywa beings. In ritual chants and written rabs, ’O-de Gung-rgyal is almost always given the title ‘father’ (yab or pha), and often referred to as pho lha, which, in the context of Srid-pa’i lha worship means ‘lha of males’ and ‘lha of the patriline/agnates’ (see below). These titles also identify him – in line with local myths – as the patrilineal progenitor who fathers the deity Gu-se Lang-ling or Gurzhe, as he is widely known nowadays (see following section), who in turn is regarded as lha ancestor of various descent groups who are Srid-pa’i lha worshippers within the research region. More rarely, and always in the role of progenitor, ’O-de Gung-rgyal is also referred to as A’o Gung-rgyal, with written A’o (also more rarely A bo) literally meaning ‘elder brother’. This form of address with the same meaning is pronounced awu or au in some Tibetan and Tibetan-influenced dialects within the research area. Since most worship communities of the Srid-pa’i lha cult are speakers of East Bodish languages, this kinship marker indicates rather a Tibetan Plateau origin transmitted in written form.14 Tibetan A’o/A bo, together with Dakpa and Dzala aach/achi ‘elder brother’, are all locally evident forms of respectful address used for ancestral deities where those latter two East Bodish languages or dialects are spoken. They are thus appropriate also for ’O-de Gung-rgyal as apical ancestor. In terms of iconographic representation, ’O-de Gungrgyal and his lha offspring are all associated with the colour white. They are white-bodied, as we would expect of sky deities in the context of cosmological symbolism found widely on the Tibetan Plateau, along the eastern Himalayan highlands and amongst the Qiang and Naxi. A standard descriptive expression found in most local chants and manuscripts for the form ’O-de Gung-rgyal takes when he descends through the sky and appears in the world is ‘white man [with/on] a white horse’ (mi dkar rta dkar). To my knowledge, this expression first occurs in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscript collection from southernmost Central Tibet, as a colour coding motif for different classes of non-human beings in ritual antecedent narratives.15 The mi dkar rta dkar expression then reappears in old

Pr incipa l Deities of Wor ship

royal and clan genealogies from Central Tibet to describe key male progenitor figures. For example, in a fourteenth century account it is used to describe a sky-faring manifestation of a patrilineal ancestor of the Rlangs clan, who is himself portrayed as a lineal descendant of the apical ancestor ’O-de Gung-rgyal.16 It is also applied to the father of sPu-de Gung-rgyal who visits the queen during a dream in the ca. eleventh to twelfth century Bka’ chems ka khol ma text.17 A manuscript from Tsango within my research region describes the appearance of ’O-de Gung-rgyal as follows: He rode upon a white horse. His body was clothed in a white felted tunic (phying dkar). Upon his head he wore a white turban (zho dkar).18 The dialect terms used in this passage for the lha’s apparel show how rooted in local culture the representation has become. For example, the zhogar (zho dkar) mentioned here is a special type of local ‘white turban’ (cf. CT zhwa dkar) made entirely of small, white flowers from alpine meadows that are plaited into a crown-like wreath (pls. 41, 42). It is worn by some bon shamans and by villagers, during specific ritual contexts in north-east Bhutan (see ch. 7). The zhogar’s more formal analogue is the white cloth turban (thod dkar) worn by bon shamans in other Srid-pa’i lha worship communities and mentioned in many earlier Tibetan and local texts on myth and ritual. The written term here for the lha’s robe, phying dkar – pronounced shingkar or shingkha in different dialects – refers to another type of regionally specific garment. It is made of long lengths of woven fabric that can be of different fibres, including wool, nettle, raw silk or cotton. When left undyed, the fabric is often a pale white (dkar) in colour, while the woollen versions are sometimes described as ‘felted’ (phying), hence the name. These fabric lengths are sewn to form a tunic or poncho that hangs down the front and rear of the body, with a collar-less slit in the centre for the head to pass through. The shingkar may be open at the sides or stitched closed except for the armholes and may have short sleeves attached. It is fastened at the waist by a belt or sash. This style of tunic is not specific to my research region, rather variations upon it are typical of many populations who dwell along the extended eastern

Himalayan-Tibetan Plateau interface between Bhutan and the Naxi area of north-west Yunnan.19 In both colloquial and ritual language, ’O-de Gung-rgyal is often referred to as a bird, or is compared with a f lying bird, when he arrives from the sky to receive propitiation on earth. In a ritual text from Thempang in Dirang district, the opening invocation states: lHa, come, come! Like a bird, [come] to the place of worship.20 lHa ’O-de Gung-rgyal, listen! Listen to us in the midst of the sky! 21 At Lhau in Tawang district, the lha is named as a ‘red bird’ (bya dmar) and invoked with the line, ‘Bya-dmar Gungrgyal of the sky, come here!’22 At Ney in Kurtö, north-east Bhutan, ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s chanted invocation is, ‘White horse, white man, white bird, all three, come with a purpose, come to Kyi-thi the land of human beings [i.e., Mi-yul Kyi-thing]’.23 The image of sky lha descending to earth like birds already occurs in early Tibetan myths of the progenitor emperor. In a ca. eleventh to twelfth century discussion of alternative epithets for gNya’-khri bTsan-po, it is stated, ‘Because he descended like a bird (bya) from the sky, he is also known as Bya-khri bTsan-po’.24 Such ornithomorphic images are associated with many other Srid-pa’i lha in one way or another when they descend to and alight on earth. White birds flying or seen perched in trees are frequently taken as a sign of the lha’s arrival and presence during Sridpa’i lha festivals.25 When an informant described to me the transmission of Srid-pa’i lha worship from Khoma to Kurtö, he used the image of white birds flying down one valley and up the other. Different Srid-pa’i lha also have ‘bird’ references as elements in their proper names, such as Grang Byamo in Kurtö. The iconography of ’O-de Gung-rgyal as he appears in Sridpa’i lha worship is replete with the life-affirming symbols of a progenitor, as well as those of the secular ruler. Along with the other Srid-pa’i lha or Phywa deities, ’O-de Gung-rgyal frequently holds the staff (mkhar or ’khar), the life-power vase (tshe bum), the wish-fulfilling gem (yid bzhin nor bu),26

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and occasionally the white silk pennant (dar, phyag dar). The staff is certainly associated with the Phywa sky deities and their descendants in early myths.27 It is also a key mythical attribute of bon, gshen and other ritual specialists who serve lha from the sky, and who are often thought of or related to ancestors and primordial beings, as we will see in following discussions of the two gshen named Ya-ngal and gShen-rab Mi-bo in sections below. The white silk pennant or scarf they hold encodes a dual symbolism that expresses the transfer of life powers between cosmic realms. One of its aspects is g.yang, and such scarves are sometimes referred to as g.yang dar, while the other aspect of the white scarf is a symbol of the messenger, of something pure and important passing between agents. For these reasons the white scarf is closely associated with the messenger bat who is one of three primordial initiator figures in the cult to be discussed below. While ’O-de Gung-rgyal and kindred deities at times ride upon white horses, they can also ride upon white sheep. The sheep is strongly associated with g.yang, hence the common expression g.yang lug and its old synonym g.yang dkar. A continuity of this connection to the symbolically important sheep occurs in the usual invitation chants to Srid-pa’i lha deities. During rites, ’O-de Gung-rgyal and other sky lha are invited to alight upon the functional equivalent of a throne which is a mat (gdan, lha gzhi) of pure white felted wool.28 There is a characteristic lack of weapons, armour and military symbols in the early, mythic Phywa and later Srid-pa’i lha cult iconographies of ’O-de Gung-rgyal and other deities. Equally absent are all the elaborate crowns, jewellery, raiments and any other features found in the typical representation of Buddhist or g.Yung-drung Bon deities and enlightened beings in religious pantheons. More than anything else, worshippers of Srid-pa’i lha imagine and represent their major deities like ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the form of local rulers or noble laypersons. That image is of superior life-affirming figures, in keeping with their perceived status as ancestors of human clan lineages and local ruling families. Compared with the iconography of the majority of divine or demonic beings and virtuoso humans

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found in both Tibetan-style Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon, and in the cults of territorial deities and local spirits, the Srid-pa’i lha are closest to being the ‘familiars’ of rural Himalayan villagers in terms of premodern local life as it existed still during the mid-twentieth century. They are eminently recognisable and sympathetic as noble horsemounted figures dressed in traditional attire, who enjoy being hosted with the best home-brewed liquor and locally produced foodstuffs when they appear in a community. As we would expect from all that has been mentioned above, ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s appearance is also in keeping with the iconography of the pho lha found in other contexts, which is essentially that of a white-clad, noble layman bearing symbols of wealth.29 The possible reasons why ’O-de Gung-rgyal is the main regional Srid-pa’i lha go so far back into the distant past that we can only try and pose robust hypotheses to account for them. In part, at least, his centrality must be related to historical transmissions from southern Tibet of favoured or core myths strongly emphasising ’O-de Gung-rgyal as the divinisation of the life force and its multiplication. This association with the deity I believe may be quite ancient, and certainly not exclusive to Tibetan Plateau peoples, and I will return to this question in both the following section and a comparative analysis in chapter 17. In the myths and ritual texts of Srid-pa’i lha worship, ’O-de Gung-rgyal fathers or emanates myriad beings, often expressed by the ideal number of three hundred and sixty. We find that within worship communities, almost any deity associated with an aspect of the world most directly related to, and meaningful for human life and subsistence, namely the local environment, the dwelling house, domestic livestock and the human body itself, are all regarded as manifestations of ’O-de Gung-rgyal. The idea of this omnipresence can be expressed in various ways, such as off-hand remarks by worshippers, or more systematically in formal rabs that are chanted during worship. An example of one such rabs from Lawa village in Khoma is as follows: [1b] That lha called ’O-de Gung-rgyal,

Through manifesting his body, speech and mind,

Pr incipa l Deities of Wor ship

Gave rise to three hundred and sixty species of lha. Some among them he made phu lha of the highlands. As a sign of that there is a lha who protects from frost and hail, The phu lha named Ge-thung. Some among them he made rten bu30 of the valley floors. As a sign of that there is a lha who protects from depletion31 and famine, The rten bu named Zhal-dkar. Some among them he made lha of the pinnacle of the stronghold. As a sign of that there is the rtse lha named mThon-po. Some of them he made as yul lha of the corners [of the house]. As a sign of that there is the khyim lha named Mang-po. Some of them watch over the riverbanks [during thaw floods] in spring. [2a] As a sign of that there is the so-called Bya-khyung of riverbanks. One lha dwells on the golden staircase. As a sign of that there is the pho lha named rGyang-dgu. One lha dwells on the turquoise beam. As a sign of that there is the ma lha named Bu-rdzi. One dwells above the storeroom. As a sign of that there is the nang lha named Yum-phyugs. One dwells at the back of the door. As a sign of that there is the sgo lha named rTag-yag. One dwells near to the hearth. As a sign of that there is the thab lha named Yu-mo. One dwells in the manger of the livestock. As a sign of that there is the phyugs lha named Zho-mo.32 While ’O-de Gung-rgyal can be present throughout the local environment in the form of his manifold emanations, he is also requested and believed to extend himself and his productive powers into all aspects of the material world. In Srid-pa’i lha rites performed in the upper Tang valley of Bumthang, when lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal is invited to

descend and come southwards over the Mon-la Kha-chung pass from lHo-brag to bestow revitalisation upon the local community, worshippers explicitly request his powers as follows: Touch us in the tshe of human beings. Touch us in the g.yang of each head of our livestock. Touch us in the nutrition of our food. Touch us in the warmth of our clothing. Extend to the lustre of our turquoises. Extend to the notches of our arrows. Extend to the nodes in our [bamboo] bows. Extend to the tempered edges of our shields. Extend to the fabric33 of our armour. Extend to the hoped for long lives of the elderly. Extend to the flourishing of the young ones.34 Worship of the ubiquitous ’O-de Gung-rgyal is so widespread in the region that he enjoys various local interpretations or reifications. For example, at Ura and throughout Kheng and immediately adjacent areas in central-east Bhutan, ’O-de Gung-rgyal is referred to and actively worshipped as nor lha or ‘lha of livestock’. Dating back to narratives of the descent of the progenitor emperor represented in Old Tibetan documents, the early mythical basis for this identity reoccurs in all the Tibetan accounts describing lha arriving on earth as rulers and ancestors; they all come to take control of domestic animals and thus benefit them. For instance, the manuscript PT 1038 describes the progenitor emperor as, ‘the master of animals with a mane (i.e., horses) that have no owners’, and the Old Tibetan Chronicle states ‘He came as the lord of black-headed men and the owner of maned animals.’35 This theme of animals dependent upon the ancestral sky deity is developed in several ways in the later Classical Tibetan narratives, including the images of ‘ownerless yaks’, ‘horses in the wilderness’ and ‘helpless animals’.36 In the local Srid-pa’i lha narratives, this is typically expressed in ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s arrival speech, ‘I come here as the herder for the livestock without a herder.’37 In some of the local rabs, it is the lha ancestors of clans who bring horses and livestock with them when they descend from the sky world to earth. This theme of livestock brought down to earth by or from the sky ancestors occurs along

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the extended eastern Himalayas in the myths of certain societies who may figure in the prehistory of the Srid-pa’i lha cult (see ch. 18). In passing, we can note that this very persistent reference to domestication of animals seems to be an ancient part of the cult of sky deities in the contexts we are dealing with. By contrast, agriculture, understood as soil cultivation practices, has no status whatsoever in these same myths. This fits with the hypothesis I develop in chapter 16, that the herding, hunting and raiding Dung peoples of the far southern Tibetan highlands were likely carriers of key cultural patterns and elements of Srid-pa’i lha worship into the valleys of the eastern Himalayas. This is where their descendants, as settled worship communities of the cult, only later became cultivators – of both swidden plots and fixed fields – due to ecological adaptation. In the Kheng region, a localised identity of ’O-de Gungrgyal is interpreted as the deity ‘adorned with light’, or ‘deity of luminosity’. This meaning derives from the manner in which an orally preserved Classical Tibetan name should be written and etymologised. Khengkha speakers in Kheng Chikor pronounce the name as “Ode Gongjan” and have introduced ’od- (‘light’) and -rgyan (‘adorn’) elements to replace the original spellings ’O- and -rgyal, respectively, thus creating a completely new etymology.38 Another purely colloquial idea about the Srid-pa’i lha deities ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Tshangs-pa (see below), and one widespread among a set of adjacent worship communities speaking Khengkha, Gongdukha and Chocha-ngacha languages, is that each of these communities worships one or other aspect or body part of the deity. Thus, in the Kheng Chikor villages just mentioned, it is held they propitiate the light aspect of the lha.39 In villages of directly adjacent areas speaking Gongdukha and Chocha-ngacha languages, along the west bank of the Kuri Chu, it is his body parts that are worshipped: in Daksa it is the shoulders, in Damkhar the head, Nagor the belly and Tsamang the knees, and so forth. Details of the bro movement performance style used in the different Srid-pa’i lha festivals of each community are locally explained as relating to these identifications: in Daksa the ritual performers shake their shoulders, in Damkhar their heads, and so on.40 None of this is mentioned in any formal rabs texts, although certain characteristic local

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bro movements are actually practiced in the localised manner I just described, and these are discussed in chapter 8 and the documentation of part IV. As much as anything, this scheme functions as a way of expressing unique local identities within a widely shared common cult.

Towards a Cultural History of ’O-de Gung-rgyal The surviving pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan sources on the mythic and ritual profile of ’O-de Gung-rgyal are very few, yet they are clear and consistent. The Old Tibetan name ’O-de Gung-rgyal has this same stable orthography, always with a lha classification, just as we find in the cult today. There is a tendency in later Classical Tibetan sources – and among some contemporary scholars – to reinscribe the attested, simple Old Tibetan ’o- syllable into ’od- and ’olforms which are then related to folk etymologies and territorial identifications. Yet, there is no philological basis for this in Old Tibetan texts. The pre-eleventh century ’O-de Gung-rgyal was already of ritual significance for mundane affairs in various ways during that period, just as he still is today within the cult. He appears in an Old Tibetan divination text, in a positive reading concerning the desire for increase, where he represents the perspective of the lha and the lha land. 41 Elsewhere, his name is linked to other rites related to the mobile vitality principle. 42 It is important to note that in all these oldest documents mentioning ’O-de Gung-rgyal, he is never related to any earthly territory or location, but rather to the lha and their realm in general. This same profile is how ’O-de Gung-rgyal also appears in the oldest Classical Tibetan source mentioning him, namely the unique eleventh century Sha slungs manuscript from southernmost Central Tibet. In the Sha slungs text, ’O[d]-de Gung-rgyal is mentioned more than any other lha, and some phrasing used in relation to him is the same as that commonly occurring in ritual texts from the Srid-pa’i lha cult.43 According to my analysis in chapter 15 and appendix J, the Sha slungs text presents rites ensuring protection of new human lives that have been called into the world from an ancestral lha realm. In this context, ’O[d]-de Gung-rgyal is especially marked as a progenitor and ancestor figure,

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while his role contains all the elements which occur for his later profile in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. One invocation to him in this text states ‘[He] is the ultimate source of the lha’, 44 while his role therein encompasses protection of beings. This is the oldest known coherent profile of ʼO-de Gungrgyal as an alpha progenitor-protector and an ancestor, and the same one that continues until today within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. It should be noted that in the Sha slungs text, and in common with Old Tibetan references to this deity, ’O[d]de Gung-rgyal is not territorialised or related to geography in any way. This feature, too, remains constant within the cult. ʼO-de Gung-rgyal’s presence is rather implicated at all places and times, as we saw in the previous section. A similar identity for ʼO-de Gung-rgyal resurfaces in the mid-thirteenth century Mkhas pa lde’u redaction of the myth of the progenitor-king, gNya’-khri bTsan-po. In that text, the deity is more specifically a sky lha who is the alphaprogenitor, and thus he is the apical ancestor of a huge variety of different beings throughout the entire cosmos. He takes a prodigious number of female partners, and together with them fathers innumerable other deities as his offspring. His epic breeding activity is correlated with a descent from the heavens down to earth. It commences in the sky (nam mkha’, gnam), moves into the intermediate space (bar snang, bar), and continues upon the earth (sa dog, sa), where he also becomes the ‘lha of the people’ (mi mangs kyi lha), an identity he maintains until today within Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals.45 It is never stated in this myth or any of its known variants that ’O-de Gung-rgyal remains upon the earth. He is the ‘god of life’ from the sky, and nothing more. A fourteenth century folk cosmology related to a lineage settled in Central Tibet is the oldest source I know of in which ʼO-de Gung-rgyal, as one of the four Srid-pa lha brothers, is explicitly cast as the lha ancestor of human beings, although the same point is already implied in earlier sources.46 One text written by an early Buddhist lama described ʼO-de Gungrgyal as being, “surrounded by a host of patrilineal ancestors (pha mtshun)”.47 This same set of ideas is the central one concerning ʼO-de Gung-rgyal found within the cult. Some contemporary scholars have seized upon the notion that ’O-de Gung-rgyal is the father of a series of mountain

deities. This is based upon one short section in the Mkhas pa lde’u redaction of the myth of the progenitor-king. Nowadays, ’O-de Gung-rgyal is usually identified first and foremost by writers as the “father” of imperial era (or preeleventh century) mountain deities, and almost always emphasised as being a mountain deity himself. By my accounting, both the antiquity and the derivation of such an identity for the deity remain unsubstantiated, or at best, these claims are rather problematic when the evidence is examined more closely.48 In post-thirteenth century Tibetan sources, a fundamentally different mythical and ritual identity for ’O-de Gungrgyal emerged in relation to Buddhist conversion. He was cast as an earth-bound mountain deity or local spirit having strong associations with mountains, and under the sway of Buddhist lamas and their tantric discourses of violence. In that context, attempts were made to fix this older placeless deity in one location, albeit that the early geography claimed for his presence is highly confused. 49 The lamas’ ’O-de Gung-rgyal also has a martial character, being mentioned in relation to warfare already in the early Buddhist references made to him.50 Thus, this ’O-de Gung-rgyal became encompassed within the generic ranks of hundreds of other deities domesticated for the Buddhist cult. An earlier generation of scholars took care in their writings to distinguish between the two fundamentally different, older and newer, identities of ’O-de Gung-rgyal.51 However, these identities have become carelessly conf lated, or the latter identity is commonly cited in a manner that simply erases the meaning and presence of the former. An open mind is still required in relation to various questions concerning this complex and ancient deity identity. Returning to the older identity of ’O-de Gung-rgyal, which has essentially been preserved and continued within the Srid-pa’i lha cult until today, there might be other data from early contexts which relate to this lha’s profile as we find it occurring in the cult. The distinctive initial ’o- syllable in the name raises an unsolved problem, namely that of the possible meaning of, and relationship between, the Old Tibetan names and beings ’O-de Gung-rgyal and ’O-lde sPu-rgyal. From the perspective of early Tibet’s political history, the

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name ’O-lde sPu-rgyal is undoubtedly the most important of any deity identified within the entire corpus of Old Tibetan documents and inscriptions. ’O-lde sPu-rgyal is the earliest known mythological identity of the sky lha as progenitor emperor and sPu-rgyal dynastic ancestor recorded from within the tradition itself. The name occurs on two stone pillar inscriptions datable to the early ninth century,52 while four Old Tibetan manuscripts of uncertain age record the name twice with the same meaning, and twice more as the mythical ruler of a country called Yar-lung Sogs-dkar or Yar-kyim-sogs.53 Like the Old Tibetan name ’O-de Gungrgyal, the orthography of ’O-lde sPu-rgyal is stable in all the oldest sources. Although the Old Tibetan lde element in other names specifically identifies btsan po rulers, according to Rolf Stein lde is to be read as that of a class of sky deities along with the category terms lha and phywa.54 There is no contradiction here, given the imperial mythology of the ruler. The fact that ’O-lde sPu-rgyal, as dynastic ancestor, is always explicitly referred to as being ‘from the lha of the sky’ (gnam gyi lha las) supports Stein’s reading, as do terms such as lde gshen55 which span the eleventh century and designate a type of ritual specialist working with ancestral lha who dwell up in the sky. The name ’O-lde sPu-rgyal found in the oldest sources can thus be literally understood as something like ’O Deity sPu Ruler, since sPu is the earliest known indigenous political identity associated with the realm of the first emperors.56 If one makes allowances for the types of minor orthographic variations which are a frequent feature of Old Tibetan sources, ’O-[l]de [d]Gung-rgyal57 could be read as ’O Deity Sky Ruler in line with the reading of ’O-lde sPu-rgyal. The parallel construction and meaning here are highly suggestive of a relationship between both names and deities. This is also true of the cosmology they signify, in which alpha-progenitor ’O-identified beings bring their powers down from the sky to benefit humans on earth. Regardless of how we might read these two Old Tibetan names, we are still left to wonder about the cultural significance of the distinctive and conservatively written initial ’o- syllable specifically marking both important and ancient ’O-identified progenitor beings. I consider the answer to that question may well be intimately connected with the cultural background of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, its main goal of

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revitalisation, and evidence for an old and positive concept of vitality connoted by ’o. Given everything we know about both ’O-[l]de beings, one can only assume that ’o relates to the sky, and that both the ’O-de Gung-rgyal and ’O-lde sPurgyal names in the form they come down to us must indicate deifications of something designated as ’o. What does this ’o signify? In the Old Tibetan document PT 1060, which I analyse in detail in chapter 14, ’o appears as an independent ritual concept, signifying a remedy, and applied as a corrective which is directed to the vertical cosmic continuum between sky and earth, and dispensed together with a fluid medium. The same meaning for ’o is preserved within both myths and rites in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and the examinations in chapter 14 of the ’o gnyen rite used by some bon shamans attest this. In that rite, ’o is also directed to the vertical cosmic continuum between sky and earth, delivered by way of a fluid medium and is specifically a remedy for lack of vitality. It revitalises both humans and non-humans and is moreover a primordial substance and identity equated with human origins. The cosmology and ontology here correspond very closely with what we know was associated with ’O-de Gung-rgyal and ’O-lde sPu-rgyal. Links between primordial vitality, ’o and f luids do occur in other older references. The most obvious ’o word in the Tibetan language that semantically correlates with these ’o-associations and ’O-identities in rites and myths is written ’o ma, ‘milk’. In Classical Tibetan, this is a linguistically innovative word for ‘milk’ when compared with zho ‘milk’ (e.g., ma zho ‘mother’s milk’, the verb ’ jo/bzho[s]/’ jos ‘to milk’, and so forth).58 ’O ma is not attested with that meaning in the Old Tibetan corpus. While it is quite likely that ’o ma developed phonetically from words for ‘breast’, once it was written as ’o ma it could become a candidate for folk etymology and other types of cultural-semantic processes. The spelling allows the etymology ‘mother ’o’ describing a fundamental life-supporting fluid, the first nourishment of all new-born mammals exuded by their life-giving mothers. Beyond ’o ma ‘milk’, we also find older myths linking vitality, fluids and ’o together. The early ‘revealed treasure’ (gter ma) text titled Bka’ chems ka khol ma contains the oldest known version of a myth about the foundation of the Ra-sa temple at what is now the city of Lhasa in Central Tibet. This myth

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has been endlessly recycled and elaborated in later Tibetan historiographies. There is little doubt that some of the oldest sections in the Bka’ chems date back to the eleventh-twelfth century period and that, like many sources of the same era, its author/compiler(s) drew upon a corpus of still earlier cultural materials. ’O-thang was the original name for the site upon which the Ra-sa temple’s foundations were eventually erected. The name ’O-thang – literally the ‘Plain of ’O’ – actually refers to an original ’O-thang-gi mTsho, and this is a subterranean lake (mtsho) beneath the same temple site in the myth. In the narrative, the principal problem with plans to build a Buddhist temple upon the ’O-thang is that a great female autochthon, a primordial being, lies beneath the earth there. The Bka’ chems describes the site precisely as, “this ’O-thang lake is reckoned to be the heart blood of the demoness”.59 By means of filling in the lake with solid earth, and displacing this life fluid, the demoness is deprived of her life force. This cultural transition from vital f luid to solid earth in terms of death is also found in Old Tibetan myths.60 In sum, the ’O-identified lake is a primordial site representing the fundamental life force of a being in the form of a fluid.61 Apart from pointing out the semantic continuity in all these different traces of ’o concepts and ’O-identities related to vitality here and in chapter 14, we cannot yet say more about how they may have been interrelated during the distant past. What appears certain is that many – if not all – of them in combination informed ideas of connections between the sky, its beings and the vitality or life force that occur at the centre of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, but especially coalesced within the central figure of ’O-de Gung-rgyal. This alphaprogenitor lha is not the only ’O-identity possessing such a significance within the cult. There is also a myth of the primordial human ancestor named ‘Scion of ’O’ (’O yi bu). It occurs uniquely in an old manuscript that was found in the personal collection of a long-deceased lha bon ritual specialist from north-eastern Bhutan, in an area where the conservative Tibetic language Chocha-ngacha is spoken. This interesting narrative relates the origins of the world and its first primordial beings. The initial sections of the mainly formulaic text are enough to gain a good impression of the story here:

bSwo! Long ago, at the beginning of creation, At the very beginning of antiquity,62 The sky on high covered over the phenomenal world beneath. The earth below spread out cool and flat. Walls of erect mountains adorned the plains. Waters were conducted through the middle of them. In the midst of that aeon, Lands appeared; the earth was revealed. The dwarf humans also arose. During that time and aeon, In a land with four sides, The stronghold with four pinnacles Was implanted there like a stake of iron. The four great rivers Resembled chains that had been drawn out. Although the lands were outwardly extant, [5a] Within them, people had not yet come into being. The Scion of ’O descended; where did he [first] alight? He alighted in the land of the lHa. The bon po of the lHa said this: ‘I am the lHa bon, Thod-dkar.’ From his mouth, he chanted the rites (bon) of the lHa, lhang se lhang. In his right hand Was a hoard of ritual items of the lHa, zeng[s] se zengs. In his left hand Was the small Sky (rmu) drum, chems [se] chems. To the Sky beings (rMu), he offered the gifts of the lHa. [He told them:] ‘Do not inflict the harm of the sky beings!’ The Scion of ’O descended; where did he [next] alight? He alighted in the Land of the Stars (skar ma). The bon po of the Stars said this: ‘I am the Star bon, Shar-drug Chos-pa.’ From his mouth, he chanted the rites of the Stars, Bringing forth the sound lhang se lhang. [5b] In his right hand Was a hoard of ritual items of the Stars, zengs se zengs. In his left hand, [4b]

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î Plate 11. Local interpretation of Gurzhe holding the life vase and pennant as central figure on a bon shaman’s painted scroll, north-east Bhutan, 2012.

He beat the Star drum, chems se chems. To the Stars, he offered the gifts of the lha. [He told them:] ‘Do not inflict the harm of the Stars!’63 The remaining sections of the narrative repeat the same pattern now evident here. The descent of the Scion of ’O, the primordial sky being who will settle the lands of the earth, proceeds down via the realms of the sun, the moon and the planets. It then passes through the abodes (yul) of btsan, rgyal po, ma bdud, sa bdag, klu and gnyan beings who together represent a descending hierarchy of terrestrial

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environmental zones, until he is safely upon the earth. While transiting each realm, the Scion of ’O is under the protection of the respective bon po associated with each of them. The narrative makes several key points. The initial beings of creation, dwarf autochthons (mi chung smra ba), who arise with or from the land itself, are stunted and thus incomplete. The first robust life – ‘real people’ – are descended rather from ’O, hence the Scion of ’O comes down from the very apex of the cosmos, from somewhere atop the land of the lha. While the narrative strongly echoes aspects of the ’o gnyen cosmology investigated in chapter 14,

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its main purpose is to demonstrate that sky-descended ’o is the basis for robust and complete life. It is the origin of full vitality, as opposed to some incomplete, prior form. Thus, the Scion of ’O is equivalent in every way to how ’O-de Gung-rgyal himself is interpreted within the cult; they are analogues. We also find the idea of ‘young ones’ or ‘small lha offspring’ descending from the top of the sky as new human life in rites recorded in the ca. eleventh century Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript which I consider embody the oldest traceable roots of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and that topic is the subject of chapter 15. The centrality of positive and potent ’O identities and ’o concepts is not limited to the cult and the Old Tibetan materials just discussed. In chapter 17 and appendix L, I demonstrate they are also highly significant in the Naxi culture of south-west China, and linguistic traces indicate this may have also been the case among some neighbouring speakers of Qiangic languages.

3.3

Gurzhe and Gu-se Lang-ling

The other prominent and widely worshipped deity in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, Gurzhe (the preferred form used in this book), is intimately related to ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the cult. Today, worshippers popularly regard Gurzhe as ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s ‘divine son/offspring’ (lha sras or lha’i bu). Not only is this recorded in local ritual texts, it also reflects the identity of the deity named Gu-se Lang-ling set down in two genealogical myths of the gDung recorded in the Rgyal rigs of 1688. There, he appears as the ‘divine son’ (lha’i bu) or ‘divine emanation’ (lha’i sprul pa, lha’i rnam sprul) of ’O-de Gung-rgyal. The identities of these ‘father’ and ‘son’ deities are often blurred, and their names are sometimes used interchangeably, which realistically represents the ambiguous ontology of divine descent by emanation. Like his lha father, Gurzhe can also be titled lha chen, gnam lha and pho lha. He also appears in the form of a white bird when arriving from the sky for worship. As will be seen in the ethnographic accounts of Srid-pa’i lha festivals in part IV, because Gurzhe/Gu-se Lang-ling is believed to allow barren women to conceive by ritually fathering their children,64 he is accorded the same progenitor status as his father ’O-de Gung-rgyal.

The iconography of these two deities is also nearly identical, with the white-bodied Gurzhe represented wearing a white turban, with stately robes, mounted upon a white horse (pl. 11). He is also referred to as mi dkar rta dkar in local texts, and like his divine father he is sometimes described as mounted upon a white sheep which is able to fly between the sky world and earth world. Gurzhe often carries the lifepower vase (tshe bum), a staff, and a silk pennant or scarf (dar, phyag dar) mentioned in the chants and texts. The oldest regional iconographic reference to Gurzhe in the form of Gu-se Lang-ling, from the late seventeenth century, describes him as ‘a mature youth wearing clothes of white silk and adorned with a wish-fulfilling gem at the top of his bound turban of white silk.’65 The youthful character of the deity is preserved in many local interpretations of him today, and he is often colloquially described as the ‘younger brother’ and as being ‘handsome’. Like his father, ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Gurzhe himself has no associations with mountains in the context of Srid-pa’i lha worship. His abode is the thirteenth level of the sky, from where he must be invited and escorted down by a bon shaman. While at some sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, Gurzhe is just a name without much revealing detail being known, in certain worship communities we encounter various oral stories about him. In Tsango, along the upper Khoma Chu valley, the inhabitants worship Srid-pa’i lha including ‘younger brother’ (zhogpo) Gurzhe, as well as his ‘elder brother’ (achi) Namdorzhe who is an ancestral deity recognised in the Khoma Chu and upper Kholong Chu valleys and eastwards across to Dakpanang in Tawang. One story commonly told at Tsango, which in part intends to account for patterns of Srid-pa’i lha worship in the area, relates how Gurzhe’s elder brother Namdorzhe possessed some powerful secret spells named ‘essential instructions’ (gdams ngag): Younger brother Gurzhe coveted and thus stole the ‘essential instructions’ of elder brother Namdorzhe, hiding them under his tongue. While Namdorzhe was searching for his missing spells, the two brothers met on the top of the Pang La pass between the Khoma Chu and Kholong Chu valleys. Namdorzhe asked Gurzhe if he had the missing spells, declaring,

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“If you tell me the truth, your worship and human sponsors will extend from here all the way down the Kuri Chu valley to Chali, which is Padmasambhava’s place. If you lie, then you can only be worshipped between the Pang La and Reb La passes on either side of the Khoma valley.” Gurzhe lied and stole the spells, which made him the most powerful deity in the area. Gurzhe then confidently crossed the Reb La pass westwards in the direction of Pangkhar village above Khoma, and hearing of his approach the people in the local community prepared a large festival of the type known throughout Khoma as Khablha to worship the Srid-pa’i lha and Gurzhe. They began to playfully rub handfuls of popped grains (boma) onto each other’s cheeks, as is customary during lha festivals, in anticipation of Gurzhe’s arrival and blessings. But as the deity approached the area, the people’s hands began to fall off and their faces developed wounds, and to avert this Gurzhe was forced to turn back the way he had come across the Reb La pass. That is why within the Khoma valley, Gurzhe is not worshipped on the west side of the Reb La pass today, and that area above the Buddhist village of Pangkhar is now called Khablhamet (‘Without the Khablha [festival]’).66 Oral stories such as this recorded during my research across east Bhutan reinforce the point Michael Aris made about the character of the different Gu-se Lang-ling narratives set down in the Rgyal rigs, “Each of these permutations is associated with a particular locality in eastern Bhutan and very likely enjoyed to begin with an independent currency. The legend evolved by assimilating to it these local stories, one by one, until it developed into the final complex form recorded by Ngag-dbang [compiler of the Rgyal rigs].”67 Michael Aris already offered some interesting speculations on the meaning of the unusual name Gu-se Lang-ling and its constituent elements,68 although now we fully understand its derivation. Gu is the actual proper name of the figure, while the category marker -se means ‘ancestral being/deity’, and the origins amongst the Qiang and Naxi of both the proper name and category marker elements in Gu-se and its local cognates will be fully discussed in chapter 17. Concerning the

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terminal element lang ling, the first point to make is ethnographic and linguistic. When understood as a contraction of Tibetan lang ling ba or lang ma ling, it fittingly describes Gurzhe who enters the human world as an air- and waterborne deity in both the mythological and living manifestations of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The term lang ling and its multiple variants in Tibetan often describe bird flight in terms of ‘gliding’ and ‘undulating soaring’ motions,69 but also ‘floating’ and ‘undulating flow’ when related to river water. This is exactly how Gurzhe and other Srid-pa’i lha are described as soaring or gliding down like birds from the sky to local sites of ritual. Indeed, in the various East Bodish languages and dialects spoken by the communities who practice Srid-pa’i lha worship, ling and leng mean ‘to fly’ and thus also frequently occur as formative elements in bird names.70 In myths of origin, Gu-se Lang-ling also enters the world as a fish to form a genealogical link between the sky lha and humans via the river course (chu rgyud) pathway defining flows of vitality.71 This Gu-se Lang-ling fish transits the downstream and then upstream courses of certain rivers before eventually taking human form, and in local rabs for Srid-pa’i lha worship, lang ling often features as an element in the names of rivers.72 When Gurzhe and other Srid-pa’i lha depart the world after having dwelt upon their deity trees (lha shing) in the sacred groves – or their functional equivalents on the altar construction – where the rites are performed, these trees are usually said to ‘sway’ to and fro as evidence of the lha’s presence, and lang ling is used in the rabs to describe the motion of such trees.73 Moreover, in the Srid-pa’i lha cosmogonies chanted during worship, lang ling descriptions also occur to characterise the ‘floating’ state of the first objects in creation.74 Without doubt, lang ling in the name Gu-se Lang-ling which Ngag-dbang transmitted when he recorded the myths in the Rgyal rigs is a descriptive flourish meaning ‘soaring’ or ‘flowing’, perhaps ‘swaying’. There are also very good reasons to think that, in addition to its descriptive force and appropriateness within the research region, lang ling also reflects a genuinely old ‘bon’-identified ritual name related to ‘the south’ and to an ancient clan scion. Several ritual narratives in Old Tibetan documents and other genuinely early manuscripts repeat lang ling names in connection with either the lHo social identity (lineage

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or clan?) or ‘the south’ (lho). PT 1289, a text related to animal sacrifice during funerals, contains the Narrative of the Hybrid Yak-Cow (Mdzo mo’i rabs) which features a figure named lHo-bu (‘lHo scion’) Lang-ling from the southern frontier or the ancient territory of the lHo, centred upon lHo-brag.75 In the course of the narrative, a ritual specialist or diviner named lHo bon ’Ol-lcogs must be consulted. The short catalogue of ‘minor kingdom’ (rgyal phran) names in PT 1060 also mentions a lHo rje Lang-ling as ruler of the ancient lHo-ga minor kingdom upon which later lHo-brag was based.76 This occurrence is significant because PT 1060 shares other unique content in common with a range of Srid-pa’i lha rabs, as I will discuss in detail in chapter 14. Of most significance in the present context is the same name in the form ‘father’ (yab) lHo rje Lang-ling in the lHo-ga Langgrug narrative of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs series among the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts.77 In this narrative, the name precedes ritual instructions, including reference to a ritual specialist named lHo bon Mon bon Thod-dkar, as well as to Ya-ngal Gyim-kong the mythical initiator of the sel ‘elimination’ rites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, and on whom see below. These same sel rites associated with Ya-ngal Gyim-kong are used today in Kurtö and Khoma some fifty kilometres to the south of gTam-shul where the dGa’-thang manuscripts were discovered (map 5). We can conclude that not only is the lang ling name element highly meaningful in the Himalayan environments of current Srid-pa’i lha worship, but that this part of the name also has a proven early heritage linked to the lHo social identity of southernmost Central Tibet in terms of myths, rites and possibly also ancient political power. This lHo background to the cult will be taken up once again in chapters 16 and 18.

3.4 Tshangs-pa The Srid-pa’i lha deity named Tshangs-pa or Tshangs-pa gDong-bzhi78 is actively worshipped along parts of the Jamkhar Chu valley in southern Kheng Chikor, and in the surrounding adjacent regions of Kheng Bjoka and Gongduk. His name also occurs in local textual narratives of Srid-pa’i lha worship from other areas across central and north-eastern Bhutan, and as far east as the Tawang area. Tshangs-pa

is often worshipped in combination with ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gurzhe, and their rites and functions are all identical. Tshangs-pa is presented as dwelling with the other Sridpa’i lha on the thirteenth level of the sky, among whom he is regarded as a senior figure, being referred to often with the title lha chen, or in one local text from Kheng Bjoka with the kin term Age or ‘grandfather’,79 and in Tawang manuscripts as pha lha rgyal Tshangs-pa. Various scholarly writings emphasise that Tshangs-pa is to be identified with the Indic deity Brahma.80 However, this is a Tibetan Buddhist identification, which taken by itself is certainly misleading to describe the deity in other contexts. Of far more importance is Tshangs-pa’s very old and wellestablished profile within Tibetan Plateau religions and cults more generally, where we find the deity worshipped under different names and in a variety of roles. A rich study by Per Sørensen, Guntram Hazod and Tsering Gyalbo of the early Yar-lung valley site of Khra-’brug, Tibet’s first Buddhist temple, reveals Tshangs-pa as the site’s chief protector and as the reputed ‘natal deity’ (skyes lha) of the early imperial ruler Srong-btsan sGam-po.81 Along with ’O-de Gung-rgyal, the older southern Central Tibetan cultic importance of lha Tshangs-pa documented in the work just cited probably overlaps with the origin of this deity’s role in Srid-pa’i lha worship. Like all sky-dwelling Srid-pa’i lha deities, Tshangs-pa has rich associations with the origins of life, vital powers and their transfer downwards into the human world, as well as the fecundity into which they translate. In the fourteenth century Tibetan myth of the Rlangs origins cited above, the first ancestor cannot be born until a son-less man makes the daughter of Tshangs-pa (lha Tshangs sras mo) descend from the sky to become his consort.82 Moreover, the deity name Tshangs-pa appears in longer redactions of the gNya’-khri bTsan-po myth in two contexts; once as a descendant of Phywa Yab-lha bDal-drug, and again as the ‘field lha’ (zhing lha) associated with production, this latter identity being significant since Tshangs-pa also has the same designation in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript for Srid-pa’i lha worship.83 A ‘father Tshangs-po’ also appears at the beginning of existence in a cosmogonic myth in the later g.Yung-drung

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Bon text Srid pa’i mdzod phug, an identity in keeping with the Srid-pa’i lha profile found in our local tradition.84 In the g.yang ’gug texts used by a few bon shamans within the research region, Tshangs-pa dwells above the world as a source of both tshe and g.yang, the two most important life forces sought from the Srid-pa’i lha.85 In one ethnic Tibetan area at the far south-east of the Plateau, there exists a type of hereditary, male ritual specialist termed the tshangs pa. His role partially overlaps with that of the bon shaman in our research region, while certain stages of the rites he deals with to conduct new g.yang productive force down from the sky have the same language and symbolism as the Srid-pa’i lha cult.86 From all of the above indications, one can safely assume that lha Tshangs-pa has been embedded within the mythological and ritual framework of Srid-pa’i lha worship for a very long time.

3.5

Sibling Ancestral Deities

Aside from the principal Srid-pa’i lha worshipped on a regional scale, namely ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Gurzhe and to a lesser extent Tshangs-pa, individual worship communities at various sites also treat their own specific ancestral deities as being Srid-pa’i lha. This means they also recognise and represent them as dwelling in and then descending from the highest levels of the multi-tiered sky world, as being dispensers of fundamental life powers and protections, and so on. Most of these deities are marked with the se/ce/zhe/zhi/chi/ chis ‘ancestral being/deity’ category term introduced above, and typically have parallel categorisations including lha, pho lha and mo lha and are sometimes also accorded an additional category like that of the regional phu ‘highland’ deities. At some sites we find an extensive mythical profile for such deities, while at other sites they are now virtually forgotten apart from their names or a few surviving fragments of their myths and cults. The iconography of these local male ancestral deities is often very close to that of the principal male Srid-pa’i lha deities, as white faced and white clad, turban-wearing beings mounted upon white horses (pl. 12).

lha wear archaic female costumes from the areas where they are worshipped. For example, the ‘elder sister’ (abu) Yum-gsum goddesses from Lawa in Khoma wear a sleeveless, poncho-like tunic called kushung (pl. 13). These are woven from nettle fibres87 or raw silk and feature elaborate and subtle designs in red and blue, with tassels along the hems, although, apart from being worn in a few villages as ritual costumes during Srid-pa’i lha festivals, use of this garment had virtually died out when I undertook my field research.88

By comparison with the iconography of their male counterparts, local female deities in the position of Srid-pa’i

There are various mechanisms for the incorporation of such local ancestral deities within Srid-pa’i lha worship. Some

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é Plate 12. The ‘elder brother’ (achi) Yang-chung deity worshipped at both Lawa in Khoma and Gangzur in Kurtö, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, north-east Bhutan, 2012.

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deities are written into local redactions of origin myths, often as substitutes for, or manifestations of, the regionally famous deities. This is an old process, and one can consider it as the probable manner of relating Gu-se Lang-ling with ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the gDung origin narratives preserved in the seventeenth century Rgyal rigs. A very clear example of this process exists for the Thempang ancestral deity La-chong, who is mythically assimilated to ’O-de Gungrgyal (see ch. 11). Another mechanism for such incorporation is through identifying local ancestral deities as siblings of Gurzhe. The mythical model for this strategy is set out already in older Phywa and Srid-pa’i lha genealogies contained in the various longer redactions of the Grags-pa Bonlugs and gSang-ba Bon-lugs narratives preserved in early Tibetan historiographical texts. Such sibling identification is most pronounced in both the Kurtö and Khoma Chu valley regions of north-east Bhutan.

éPlate 13. The ‘elder sister’ (abu) Yum-gsum deities worshipped at Lawa in Khoma, with two (left and centre) wearing the kushung, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, north-east Bhutan, 2012.

Kurtö and Khoma are somewhat unique among all regions where Srid-pa’i lha worship communities exist due to the representation of ancestral deities within sibling networks. Many are explicitly identified as being siblings of Gurzhe who is worshipped together with them. Figure 1 provides an enumeration of the ancestral deity sibling networks in Kurtö and adjacent Khoma. The sibling identities signified by the prefixed kin terms listed in figure 1 are frequently invoked when local informants are questioned about their deities. They are also taken on as collective identities for worship communities during

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worship community

deity type and name

oral and written kin term

sibling status

Shawa, Thangrung, Thunpey

cha/pcha Grang-bya, Grang-bya-mo, Grang-kyi g.Yum-mtsho

Kurtöp awa/’awa (A’u) = ‘elder sister’

elder sister to Grang-bya Zhog-mo and rMa g.Yu-mo

Zhamling/Tabi

cha/pcha Grang-bya Zhog-mo

Dzala zhomu (zhog mo) or Kurtöp nomet/ numet = ‘younger sister [esp. of a female ego]’

younger sister to Grang-bya-mo

Nangnang (also Nyangnyang, in upper Dungkhar)

cha/pcha rMa g.Yu-mo

Kurtöp nomet/numet = ‘younger sister [esp. of a female ego]’

younger sister to Grang-bya-mo

Chusa

cha/pcha Dur-ti-mo or Shutimo89

Kurtöp/Bumthap chamet (skya med, lca med)90 = ‘brother’s daughter [female ego]’ or ‘sister’s daughter [male ego]’

female servant to Grang-bya-mo

Ney

cha/pcha Kalepey, mKha’-me-wag

Dzala achi = ‘elder brother’ or Kurtöp cha = ‘male servant’

elder brother to Dur-ti-mo/ Shutimo (Ney informants) or male servant to Grangbya-mo (Shawa informants)

Gangzur

cha/pcha Yang-chung

Dzala achi’(A rje) = ‘elder brother’

elder brother to Gurzhe?

Lawa

lha/pla Yum-gsum, Yumgsum Gra-ba/Dra-ba, Yumbrtsun, g.Yu-btsun

Dzala abu = ‘elder sister’

elder sister(s) to Gurzhe and Chu[s]-zhe Ngag-lha-mo

Khoma collective (Khoma, Berpa, Bleiting, Baptong, Lingdung)

lha/dgung lha chen mo Chu[s]-zhe Ngag-lha-mo, Chuje Ngaglhamo

Dzala zhomu = ‘younger sister’

younger sister to Gurzhe and Yum-gsum

Tsango

lha gNam-’dor-zhe, gNam-’dir-zhe

Dzala achi = ‘elder brother’

elder brother to Gurzhe

Tsango

lha Phong-phong-zhe

?

brother to Gurzhe

Tsango

lha Ri-bu-mo

Dzala abu = ‘elder sister’

elder sister to Gurzhe

é Figure 1. Sibling ancestral deities of Kurtö and Khoma.

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Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Up until the year 2000, during the parallel festivals staged by the old Kurtö communities of Shawa, Tabi and Zhamling91 during the eighth lunar month, all participants would climb the high hill named Risumtse located between the three settlements and meet for combined rites upon the summit. During these events, participants from Tabi/Zhamling respectfully addressed their Shawa counterparts as aida, an honorific Kurtöp kin term for ‘sister’, since the Shawa deity awu Grang-bya-mo is the ‘elder sister’ (awu) of their own deity Grang-bya Zhog-mo, a name which literally means ‘younger sister (zhomu) [of] Grang-bya[-mo]’. In turn, the Shawa participants referred to their Tabi/Zhamling counterparts as zhomupa meaning ‘those of the younger sister’. Thus, the ancestral deity identities represent the entire community believed to descend from these deities. As with ancestral deities elsewhere, the individual identities of, and myths about the most important ancestral sibling deities of Kürto and Khoma can contribute clues on the possible origins and past relations of their human worship communities, clan or lineage names, and the places their cults had earlier spread from or to. We can observe in figure 1 that the respective sibling deity networks of Kurtö and of Khoma are almost entirely separate, reflecting the KurtöpDzala linguistic divide between the two valleys, and suggesting two different ancestor populations with little remembered overlap. The exception to this pattern is found at the immediately adjacent sites of Kurtöp speaking Gangzur and Dzala speaking Lawa. Each community worships specific deities from among the same set of lha siblings (e.g., pls. 12, 13), and share the same Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialist across the linguistic boundary. The ritual manuals used by their common bon shaman, whose hereditary lineage is based at Lawa, contain sections in both written Kurtöp and Dzala. By the same token, as a boundary community, Lawa also shares sibling deities with the neighbouring Dzala speaking Khoma collective of five villages. Among all the Khoma-based sibling deities, those of the Khoma collective and Tsango most strongly indicate links further afield. Tsango’s brother lha gNam-’dor-zhe and Gurzhe are shared eastwards with the Srid-pa’i lha worship communities down the Kholong Chu valley, and into the Dakpa speaking

communities of the Dakpanang area within Tawang district. In concert with this, most surviving origin myths for the area also describe the Khoma populations as migrating south from Tibet and arriving at their present locations via the Kholong Chu valley, while common clan identities occur from Khoma through to Tawang (see chs. 9, 12, 16). As for possible origins of local ancestral deity identities, various clues point to southernmost Central Tibet. One intriguing identity is that of ‘elder sister’ Grang-bya-mo, whose cult is centred upon Shawa village in Kurtö. There she is directly cited as an ancestress of human descent groups. One major ritual text chanted at Shawa invokes the descent groups who should form the ceremonial units for worship in the festival in the rhetorical manner of many such Srid-pa’i lha texts as follows, “Are the nine pha spun and the nine ma spun who were began by elder sister Grang-bya here?”92 There is no remembered local etymology or iconography related to the name Grang-bya-mo, except that she can have the possible form of a white bird like all the Srid-pa’i lha ancestors in north-eastern Bhutan. The bya element in her name does not, however, refer to a ‘bird’, but is one of several common orthographic variants of Phya, locally spoken Cha or Pcha, which is the divine progenitor-ancestor title used for Sridpa’i lha in Kurtö. The name should thus be considered in the form Grang Phya-mo, ‘Grang the female Phya’. Guntram Hazod, with whom I discussed the Grang-bya-mo identity, believes it strongly suggests the settlement name Grangmo or Grang-mo-che (also Grong-mo-che, Drang-mo and other variations) in the upper ’Phyong-po area of the Yarlung valley system. According to Hazod’s recent research, Grang-mo in Yar-lung is the location of Tibet’s oldest royal tombs, while ’Phyong-po itself is the ancient epicentre of the Yar-lung dynasty and the original home of the oldest social groups who are possibly ‘clans’, such as the ’Greng, ’Phyos and Khu.93 The Khu are known founder-ancestors at sites immediately next to Shawa in lower Khoma (see ch. 16). The name element Grang-mo appears in several Old Tibetan documents, and in the posthumous name for sPu-lde Gung-rgyal, given as Grang-mo gNam gSer-brtsig in the Old Tibetan Chronicle.94 It is well to recall here, that in the Rgyal rigs, Grong-mo-che in Yar-lung is mentioned as the place where ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s emanated divine son,

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Gu-se Lang-ling/Gurzhe, in the form of a child, is collected to be taken back south to Himalayan valleys as the ancestor of Dung (gDung) lineages. Once again, as in the cases of Gurzhe and Tshangs-pa above, with Grang-bya-mo we find possible linkages back to much earlier roots in southernmost Tibet.

female identities for hearth deities were already represented in the same dGa’-thang Byol rabs text as the rMa name (see below). [g.]Yu-mo, too, is a name closely cognate with that of an important premodern Qiang deity (see ch. 17).

3.6 Female Deities At least one of the identities, the Yum-gsum Gra-ba (also: Dra-ba) or Yum-brtsun/g.Yu-btsun complex from Lawa, is uniquely present in a Byol rabs text among the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts from gTam-shul just fifty kilometres north of the site.95 The identity of Grang-bya-mo’s ‘younger sister’, rMa g.Yumo, who is worshipped around Dungkhar – often written Dung-mkhar or ‘Dung stronghold’ in cult texts – in upper Kurtö, is also of great interest. rMa is an old autonym of those populations settled in western Sichuan on the far eastern margins of the Tibetan Plateau who speak Qiangic languages. The same rMa name occurs in the Byol rabs from the dGa’-thang manuscripts, as the ancestral lha of the Me-nyag ‘to the north’,96 which again points to these Qiangic speaking populations. Me and Me-nyag, but better known in the forms Mi or Mi-nyag, are old names Tibetans recorded for Xixia (Tangut) populations of the north-eastern Tibetan Plateau. They once spoke the extinct Qiangic language called Tangut, and were probably ancestors of speakers of the living Qiangic language named Muya/Munya/Mu-nya (formerly Minyak) who live further south, and not far from today’s settlement zone of the modern Qiang. rMa, Me and Mi all reflect known forms of the historical and contemporary Qiang autonym, while the oldest Naxi patriclan name, Ma,97 is probably related to a Qiangic speaking ancestral component. The premodern Qiang shaman invoked an auxiliary deity named Ma during the major ceremonies called Paying the Great Vows that are closely cognate to Srid-pa’i lha festivals.98 All such connections of Srid-pa’i lha ancestors and the cult itself to some ancestral group of earlier speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages are explored in chapters 17 and 18. As for the name Yu-mo, it is a common identity for the female deity of the hearth who is an ancestor within the research region, and particularly in Srid-pa’i lha worship communities and cult texts. It is noteworthy that

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Figure 1 also reveals that a variety of female deities such as the Yum-gsum and Grang-bya-mo are acknowledged as principal Srid-pa’i lha ancestors in Kurtö99 and Khoma. As we will see in the festival documentations of part IV, some of these female beings are worshipped for hunting success, for fertility, and some particularly for the health and protection of infants. To their existence, we can add the fact that many Srid-pa’i lha worship communities specifically identify what we might call ‘elemental beings’ as female. At some sites – for example, Thempang (ch. 11) – the sky, earth, rocks, water, wood, fire and meadows are each identified with a specific female deity. At a range of sites featuring nawan rites related to hunting, it is the local female ancestor deity, or other goddesses of the forest and wilderness, who are the owners of the game, and who care for the vitality of wildlife. The most widespread example of this ‘elemental’ deity type is the explicitly female identity of fire and the hearth, and less directly of iron that is worked by fire at the blacksmith’s hearth (see ch. 7). The hearth is a key ancestral site within the dwelling house of most Himalayan highland populations speaking Tibeto-Burman languages. In Tibetan, the expression mtshun zhal, literally ‘face of the ancestor(s)’, is a synonym for the fire and its deity (me lha), albeit a reference to patrilineal beings. However, the widespread female identity of fire and the hearth within the Srid-pa’i lha cult is rather exceptional in the Himalayas. Elsewhere, if any gender is assigned the hearth, it is usually male or a mixture of three male and female identities, regularly allotted to the three hearthstones, or legs of the iron hearth tripod, or the three raised lobes on the top of the moulded clay hearth. 100 The assignment of female hearth deities is very old in the research region and its immediate environs. It is found recorded in ritual chants among the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts from gTam-shul.101 In the cult

Pr incipa l Deities of Wor ship

itself, a common female identity for the hearth deity is Yumo,102 which literally means ‘female deer’ in Tibetan, and she resides there alone, without male partner(s). Among speakers of East Bodish languages, the bamboo drying rack positioned directly above the main hearth is termed tsanta, and this structure is regularly incorporated into rites for ancestral deities. Even its identity is female. When I discussed the female Srid-pa’i lha deity Chu[s]-zhe Ngag-lhamo worshipped in the lower Khoma Chu valley with local informants, they regularly referred to her and her worship as Tsantamo, the ‘Drying Rack Woman’. The other variation, found where hearth deity worship survives in communities practising within the cult, includes three sister deities of the hearth who occupy the three hearthstones or their equivalents. During the Srid-pa’i lha festival named Kharpu celebrated at Nyimshong in Kheng Chikor, the bon po enters each house and makes a beer offering to the three sister deities of the hearth. He pours some ‘choicest beer’ (chang phud) onto the three lobes or stones of the hearth – he also does the same at the drying rack above the hearth and on the main door threshold – and chants: Three sibling goddesses of the hearth, Abide here and protect us from bad water and misfortunes with fire. Do not let the beer go sour!103 At still other sites, the fire within the hearth is itself explicitly identified as a female being, such as the female lha ’Od’bar-mo or ‘Blazing Light Woman’ at various places in the Mon-yul Corridor. As will be seen in the section The Messenger below, which discusses a trickster bat named sGamchen Pha-wang who acts as a culture hero that steals fire, it is three women who always appear in relation to the origins of fire and who receive it into the world from the culture hero. Such female identities for fire and the hearth are in fact very important from a comparative perspective. Societies like the Qiang and Naxi dwelling along the far eastern margins of the Tibetan Plateau, which both maintain shaman tradition complexes with many features that are cognate with the cult of Srid-pa’i lha, also both have female identifications for fire and the hearth, as discussed in chapter 17. The same pattern was also evident in some premodern Siberian

societies that maintained similar cosmologies and featured shamans as their primary ritual specialists.104 Moreover, in areas adjacent to Khoma and Kurtö, we also find rites for the female deity (or deities) named A-lce lHa-mo or ‘Elder Sister Goddess(es)’ performed at Ura in Bumthang, a site practising a form of Srid-pa’i lha worship until very recently, and with a gDung lineage heritage as well. The ‘elder sister’ kin designation is a typical marker within the regionally established cultural pattern for addressing ancestors among speakers of East Bodish languages. 105 A regional instance of such a deity is A-ma Jo-mo, literally ‘Mother Lady’, spoken as Aum Jomo in Bhutan. Her cult appears to have originally come from the southern fringes of the Tibetan Plateau, 106 while her worship spread via complex migrations can be found at locations ranging from the Kheng Chikor region in centraleastern Bhutan 107 right across into various settlements within the Tawang, Dirang and Kalaktang districts of the Mon-yul Corridor, and even further southwards. 108 The entirely generic A-ma Jo-mo name is an umbrella identity covering a complex being or beings whose cult contains various strata of transformation and syncretism, and which still requires in-depth research. A-ma Jo-mo takes blood sacrifice at some sites, is treated as a Tibetan Buddhist protector at others, is a life-giving mother elsewhere, and is sometimes a territorialised mountain deity, as well as possessing spirit mediums.109 These examples and others like them represent a particularly high regional concentration of important female deities in this part of the Himalayas, with many of them accorded ancestor status or ancestral in character. In my experience, this is rather exceptional. Apart from Jomo/A-ma Jo-mo/Aum Jomo/Jumu, who has become partially syncretised by dGe-lugs-pa school lamas in some areas, virtually all the female deities mentioned above have experienced no domestication within cultic practice dedicated either to Buddhism or to spirits of environment and territory. They have maintained their separate character. This is probably due to their original status as lifegiving ancestors and their worship by dedicated, hereditary ritual specialists such as bon shamans, as opposed to

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merely being localised terrestrial numina whom lamas and self-selecting specialists such as oracles or mediums could cosmologically recontextualise and then ritually interact with. In a regional cult otherwise focused mainly upon prominent male deities with ‘bone’-defined, agnatic ceremonial groups as their worshippers, this high prevalence of female ancestral deities and other female ‘elemental’ deities is noteworthy. It must reflect traces of much older strata of ancestral cults whose female beings have gradually become related to – via fictive sibling kinship in myths – or ritually subordinated to the currently central male deities. The majority of known examples of these female deities all come from a zone with two distinct characteristics which probably reveal their ancient origins – where East Bodish languages are dominant, or where their speakers have historically extended their cultural influence, and where we know Dung or gDung peoples from southernmost Tibet formerly dwelt and spread as migrants (see ch. 16).

3.7

Communal and Ancestral Pho lha from the Sky

We have already seen that the pho lha title is applied to a range of deities with individual identities in Srid-pa’i lha worship. It also occurs as the main or leading reference for a group of deities that can vary in number between three and nine at different sites. This group is addressed in certain rites, but especially in those for sel or ‘elimination’, thus they need to be understood as a specific unit of worship. While the constitution of this group varies widely between different communities, the possible spectrum includes:110 1. Pho lha for the patriline. 2. Mo lha for the matriline. 3. Srog lha for individual life force. 4. Zhang lha for the mother’s brother. 5. Dgra lha for conquest of, and protection from enemies. 6. Yul lha for natal place. 7. Ma lha for children and family well-being. 8. Yul bdag for location of the family/household/ community. 9. Nang lha for the inner storeroom of the house. 10. Phyugs lha for family livestock.

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This group led by the pho lha thus encompass all essential aspects of a person’s social and physical existence, including descent, idealised or prescriptive affinity, the body, territory and socially defined residence unit, dwelling and subsistence - albeit based upon animals not cultivation. In recent scholarship, this grouping of deities have been presented to students of Tibetan religions as an ideal set of five deities identified as the ’go ba’i lha who are born and abide together with the body of a human being, and sometimes described as patron deities, often with a protective function.111 Such accounts of a fixed set of ’go ba’i lha as being person-specific protectors appear to have their roots in the systematisation of older cultural patterns at the hands of Buddhist lamas. Although this generally accepted definition of the ’go ba’i lha may be fitting for understanding certain ethnographic and historical contexts, it does not account for most of the character and function of the deity group lead by the pho lha in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. There, most of these deities are best described as having a communal significance, and as representing and regulating both descent and social relations of various sorts. The ‘leader’ and most frequently mentioned among them is the pho lha, whose fundamental associations are with procreation, ancestry and continuity of agnatic descent. Rolf Stein once clearly illustrated this older idea with an apt quotation from the late-seventeenth century Baiḍûrya dkar po, “Through the man’s god (pho lha) males (pho) are multiplied and one has a numerous line of descendants.”112 The textual and ethnographic evidence in the present study directly reflects these older ideas, thus the pho lha needs to be understood as the deity of persons and groups who share the same ‘bone’, and thus members of an agnatic unit, or more widely a patrician. This is certainly the case in other Himalayan areas not too far to the west of our research region, for example, among highland populations of eastern Nepal and Sikkim who are culturally oriented towards the Tibetan Plateau and who claim southward ancestral migrations of founder clans from Tibet.113 A second feature of the pho lha led group of deities in Sridpa’i lha worship also requires us to step back from the now widespread idea in the scholarly literature that they are innate, personal deities of the ’go ba’i lha type, and thus intimately associated with the individual human body or

Pr incipa l Deities of Wor ship

its proximate environment in the first instance. This idea can represent one mode of understanding the pho lha in the research region, but not necessarily the predominant or only one at many sites. In Srid-pa’i lha ritual texts, the pho lha and its partner deities commonly dwell upon the thirteen levels of the sky world, as do the principal Srid-pa’i lha deities. Like the latter, pho lha must also be invited to descend through the layered, vertical cosmos. This is explicit in many ritual chants used by the bon shaman. For example, the bon po of Saleng in eastern central Bhutan chants his verbal ritual journey up to the thirteenth level of the sky, where he enters the divine palace there, and encounters the pho lha on the right and the mo lha on the left (g.yas kyi pho lha dang g.yon gyi mo lha), then invites them to descend with him. Similarly, in the old Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript concerning elimination rites (sel) and offerings for deities of descent groups (clans, lineage, families), we find that five messenger birds must bring down the pho lha and other deities from the thirteenth level of the sky to be worshipped at the altar of the ritual specialist. 114 In one of our local texts concerning elimination rites, the pho lha are said to be protected in the sky within a ‘golden stronghold’ (gser mkhar) when pollution by human actions threatens them,115 while the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel mentions the pho lha as dwelling in the sky within a ‘stronghold of conch’ (dung mkhar).116 In all these sources, the ‘elimination’ (sel) rites purify the path for the pho lha led group of deities to descend from the top of the sky down to the altar of the ritual specialists on earth. An ethnographic example of this is given in chapter 9. These same ideas about ancestral pho lha from the sky once again find a strong echo in local myths of clan and lineage origins among various populations of highland Nepal. In both Sherpa and Khumbo myth, for example, the ancestral pho lha as clan deities descend from the sky in the form of white light, rainbows, white birds and as a lha g.yag.117 At some sites within my research area, ancestral pho lha and mo lha from the sky world have undergone a transformation familiar from other parts of the high Himalayas where local populations consist of migrant communities, albeit bringing their clan deities with them from their places of origin and resettling them in their new homelands. Hildegard Diemberger has given us a good account of this among the

Khumbo of eastern Nepal. In so doing, she provides one of the more important hypotheses we have for understanding the social-historical development of local ritual systems in a region where migration has been a frequent occurrence: In the case of the Khumbo, migration brought the clans away from their original home and from the mountains associated with the original community and its ancestors. Settling in a new area, heterogeneous groups coalesced around a number of central land deities. Thus for the Khumbo ‘in time’ the pholha as specific clan deity provides the connection with the original ancestors of one’s own clan; ‘in space’ the land deities are the reference to the actual environment. Since all groups of different origin share their worship, the land-deities have acted as integrating factors for the community […] The land-deities of the ‘new home’ which are common to all clans are the new trait-d’union between the human community and the landscape it lives in. In this context, clan deities become ‘imported’ references to the ‘original’ ancestors on the one hand, and guardians of a principle of social order, on the other […] In this new context the relationship between clan, clan-deity and ancestors tends to fade, overpowered by the concept of clan as mere principle of kinship order.118 At numerous sites throughout the Mon-yul Corridor, where various communities are formed from descent groups (clans, lineages or families) who migrated southwards from the Tibetan Plateau and eastwards from what is now Bhutan, we can also find stages of this same transformation process in the relationship between the community and their clan and land deities. At Thempang (ch. 11), for example, we find ’O-de Gung-rgyal and an older Tibetan pho lha clan deity still worshipped as life-giving ancestors within Srid-pa’i lha rites, but with the latter installed in the local landscape and considered alongside other land deities of the place where the migrants settled. In the neighbouring Sangti valley, they too still worship ’O-de Gung-rgyal but the clan deities have now become fully assimilated to communal land deities.

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4.

Pr i mor di a l I niti ator s

4.1 The Messenger, the Protector and the Crisis Manager Across the distribution region of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, there are three beings who invariably feature as decisive characters in ritual antecedent narratives. They are portrayed as the primordial initiators of specific rites or ritual complexes represented in the bon shaman’s texts. They are significant as primordial figures because Srid-pa’i lha rabs contain only minimal allusions to a sense of chronological time and make no historical claims as such. Thus, identifying mythical characters conventionally as ‘founders’ makes little sense, neither as a specified starting point for that which they might have founded, nor as a reference point throughout chronological time. Because we are dealing with a form of mythical time, these key figures are better identified as ‘initiators’. The myths of these initiators all share the same general plot: Something is wrong in the human world; a solution must be found; a knowledgeable expert or competent agent is engaged; they either instruct how to proceed with a ritual solution, often using divination as their source of knowledge, and/or perform the ritual which effects the desired result. This type of plot, which Henk Blezer called the “crisis and crisis management” paradigm, is common in many Old Tibetan rabs featuring various gshen and bon ritual specialists in just such a role:1 Narratives circulating in both manuscript and oral form within the cult’s worship communities feature these initiator figures: 1. The messenger: a bat named sGam-chen Pha-wang, literally ‘Very Profound Bat’, who is a ‘trickster’-type figure of

the kind commonly identified by folklorists and anthropologists. He acts as the primordial messenger or go-between linking humans on earth and the ancestral lha in the sky world. He features in the texts generally designated as Lha zhu rabs (Lha Requesting/Inviting Narrative) or Lha rabs for short, and in the Me rabs ([Origins of] Fire Narrative). 2. The protector: a gshen ritual specialist named A’o (‘elder brother’) Ya-ngal Gyim-kong and his two younger brothers, the tshan bon Thod-dkar and the thab bon Me-’bran. They together protect the ancestral lha by eliminating obstructions and cleansing impurities along the path the latter must transit between the sky world and the bon shaman’s altar or the domestic hearth upon the earth. The brothers feature exclusively in Sel rabs (Elimination Narrative) texts which introduce and define the ‘elimination’ (sel) rites; 3. The crisis manager: pha (and/or) ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo acting as an expert advisor and gshen ritual specialist. He appears when a human crisis must be managed and thus sets in motion the primordial performances of various rites in which the other two initiators then take part. He features in a wide range of different rabs, including those cited in 1 and 2 above, and is sometimes significant for the ‘Bon’ social identity of worship communities. These three central initiator figures must be understood as derived from a hybrid background that reflects the development of the cult itself. On the one hand, all three initiators are associated either directly or indirectly with much older myths and rites recorded in the dGa’-thang manuscripts from southernmost Central Tibet directly adjacent to the cult’s distribution zone, as well as in some related Old Tibetan manuscripts from Dunhuang in the Hexi Corridor region of Gansu in western China. On the other hand,

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In gSang-ba Bon-lugs narrative: Yab-lha bDal-drug + dMu-btsun Gri-sman

Khri-bar gyi + Dre dMu-dre bTsan-mo bDun-tshigs

[dMu] Thang- thang + ?

Dre-btsun rMug-mo + Mi bon lHa bon

mTshe-mi

gNya’-khri bTsan-po

gCo’u[-mi]

[ ritual specialists to ruler ]

[lha ruler ]

Dre dMu-dre + Sa-bla mGon-bu

sKar-ma Yol-lde [ inviter of ruler ]

In Srid-pa’i lha cult narratives: ’O-de Gung-rgyal Gu-se Lang-ling/Gurzhe [ Srid-pa’i lha ]

Ya-ngal

[ ritual specialists to Srid-pa’i lha ]

in a range of ways each initiator strongly reflects both primordial Himalayan shamans evident in myths and real shaman practices recorded from shamanic-tradition complexes along the mountain chain. It would be mistaken to accord priority to either of these backgrounds in attempting to understand the Srid-pa’i lha cult, which truly embodies both. Yet, the myths written down in Tibetan language are our oldest sources. The mythical identity gShen-rab Mi-bo has been frequently discussed by scholars as it occurs in Old Tibetan ritual texts and reused in the later dGa’-thang manuscripts. However, the bat sGam-chen Pha-wang and the three gshen brothers headed by the elder Ya-ngal are far less well known. The specific identities and features of both the messenger bat and Ya-ngal already occur in the dGa’-thang corpus of ritual texts, which undoubtedly reflect their oldest recorded roots. In still later myths, these figures all function as analogues of – and are sometimes interchangeable with – a set of three maternal cousins featuring in the earliest elaborated Classical Tibetan versions of the narrative of the progenitor

104

tshan bon thab bon

sGam-chen Pha-wang [ inviter of Srid-pa’i lha ]

é Figure 2. Genealogy of gNya’-khri bTsan-po and his maternal cousins according to the Mkhas pa lde’u redaction, compared with Srid-pa’i lha cult narratives.

emperor, gNya’-khri bTsan-po. The oldest versions of these stories were all recorded around southernmost Central Tibet between the late 1100s and mid-1200s. The figure of the messenger bat is parallel to gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s maternal cousin, sKar-ma Yol-lde, the so-called ‘lHa of Ribs’ (rTsib-kyi-lha)2 who takes man’s message to and successfully invites the lha emperor. The gshen Ya-ngal features directly in the same myths as one of three gshen priests who serve and protect gNya’-khri bTsan-po specifically during his descent to earth from the sky world. The other two are named gShen gyi dMu-rgyal-tsha and gCo’u gshen gyi Phyag-mkhar, or more simply called mTshe-mi (which can also be a title, mtshe mi) and gCo-mi in different sources and with various orthographies.3 These latter two gshen appear as brothers who are also maternal cousins of gNya’-khri bTsan-po in some versions of the latter’s origin myth. In the

Pr imor di a l Initi ator s

cult, Ya-ngal’s role shares some similarities with his depiction in the origin myth of the first emperor, but also deviates from it in specific ways. Thus, Ya-ngal and his two younger gshen brothers, tshan bon Thod-dkar and thab bon Me-’bran, are in some ways mythical analogues of the parallel trios of ritual specialists in the gNya’-khri bTsan-po myth, namely Ya-ngal, mTshe-mi and gCo-mi, or alternatively the trio mTshe-mi, gCo-mi and rKar-ma Yol-lde, depending upon which redaction one consults. These parallels are illustrated in figure 2. All indications suggest these Classical Tibetan narratives redacted by Buddhist authors reflect many aspects of a contemporary eleventh to thirteenth century regional culture of myths and rites dedicated to mundane goals in southernmost parts of Central Tibet where the stories were all first recorded. The dGa’-thang and Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts from the same region, which predate the later Buddhist gNya’-khri bTsan-po myths by at least one or more centuries, demonstrate this, and it is those older sources that I prioritise in my investigations below.

4.2 Origins of the Messenger Bat The messenger bat within the cult is by far the most complex and important primordial initiator figure. The bat is male and widely known under the name sGam-chen Pha-wang, although a few alternative identities based upon variations of the name and on associations with small bird and insect species are found at certain sites. As we will see, these alternative bird and insect identities connect the function and semantics of the sGam-chen Pha-wang bat in the cult with a whole range of other flying messengers who are small creatures occurring in the ritual cultures of shamans and in the myths of local communities right along the eastern Himalayas. sGam-chen Pha-wang also conforms to the definition of a ‘trickster’ figure who is ambivalent but whose deeds have a positive outcome for the human world. The oftenhumorous tales of his outsmarting others to attain his goals are beloved by local audiences. Across my field study sites in eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor (map 3), we also find that today real bats are generally positively valued

creatures, whose appearance at dawn and dusk is considered as good luck or auspices. The bat’s positive status is true as much among pastoralists of the highlands as it is for the farming communities in the valleys. The initiator figure who is a messenger bat is based upon two much older myth motifs or tropes apparent in certain earlier Tibetan textual sources. One is the small f lying creature, usually a bird or insect, as a messenger who is dispatched, or who arrives as a bearer of bad news and portents (than). The other is the need for persuasive invitation of reluctant lha in the sky so that they descend to the earth for human benefit. The first motif occurs already in Old Tibetan texts related to death rites and divination, and in some later sources directly derived from them.4 What is more unique in the cult is the choice of a bat as the classificatory ‘bird’ who takes on these roles. The bat as the bearer of bad news first appears in the ca. eleventh century dGathang manuscripts, where this motif type is generally well represented.5 One dGa-thang manuscript titled Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs features a collection of short ritual antecedent narratives addressing various crisis scenarios involving beings classed as rnel dri (also dri, dri ma, bu dri). They must be addressed in the post-mortem period, with ritual steps for posthumous exorcisms required as resolutions to these crises. The Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs will be analysed in chapter 15. For now, we can note one narrative describing a rnel dri crisis occurring in the land of Lungs Sogs-ka, which strikes the family of the Yar lord rMun-bu. Concerning the crisis and the initial step needed to begin resolving it, we read: Up above, the lha were impure. Down below, the dri ma were unsuppressed. The name and designation given to The rnel dri was bKrags-bshar-ma.6 The lha were driven off, driven into the sky. The wild geese vanished, vanished into the lake. Human beings were not begotten by the lha. The bat listened to the bad news.7 [The bad news] was unsent. When sent, how was it done? It was sent through the cotton [flags] of the nine poles.8

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Bat Narrative Sites

T

Srid-pa’i lha cult site Bat narrative records

I

( C

H

B I

N

E

A )

Tamshul

Kula Kangri

T

Yarlha Shampo

Gathang Bumpache

B

H

U

T

A

K h om a ch u

Drushul

N

Tsona

Kangtö

M O N

g chu olon Kh

ar ch

u

u ri ch

kh

Sh e r e c hu

m

Thimphu

Ku

Ja

Trongsa

N yamjang c h u

?

L H O D R A K

Tawang

a Taw

Dr a n

u ng ch

gm

a ch

u

Dirang

Mongar M

an

gd

0

15

e

ch

ARUNACHAL PRADESH

u

30

60 km

From the dark bSe stronghold (bSe-mkhar), Human gshen [and] lha gshen were invited9.10 Due to obscure language in parts of the passage, the translation can only be tentative. The word bya bang that I read as ‘bat’ here can sometimes refer to different types of ‘birds’, and this variation is the case for many animal, bird and plant names in textual and ethnographic data. However, the ‘bat’ meaning here appears confirmed by internal evidence elsewhere in the same set of narratives.11 Ultimately, the exact classificatory ‘bird’ identity is perhaps not so important here, rather the precedents we find are. As will be seen in the ethnographic accounts of parts III and IV, this passage reads like a fundamental mythical template for all central

106

I

N

D

I

A

é Map 3. Srid-pa’i lha worship communities where versions of sGamchen Pha-wang narratives are known to occur.12

aspects of the later Srid-pa’i lha cult, including the role of the bat. Indeed, much of the phrasing finds close parallels in rabs chanted by bon shamans. Particularly telling is the idea that lha are the agents behind human births, which underlies one of the cult’s principal goals in practice. The bat’s brief mention in the rnel dri text already prefigures three aspects of the character of the messenger bat sGam-chen Pha-wang that are carried over into the cult. He gains his information by listening. He has bad news about the

Pr imor di a l Initi ator s

condition of the world, delivery of which leads to a ritual solution. And sometimes he can’t deliver the news or cannot do so directly. A second significant example of the messenger who is a small, f lying creature and bearer of bad news occurs in a Byol rabs narrative from among the dGa’-thang manuscripts. A crisis of bad omens and visions that overwhelm a man named sMra Then-ba ensues in the sMra land of Thang-brgyad, with the status of the victim’s life described as being highly precarious. Two ritual specialists who perform mundane rites, the pha gShen-rab Myi-bo and sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras, initially fail to fully address the problem. They thus dispatch a small flying messenger up to the sky (gnam) to appeal for help from a third specialist who is a gnam bon named pha Mus-dpal Phrog-rol: To the messenger with the bad news, rJi-dang sKye-mched-po (‘Flea with All the Senses’),13 lHa-bo lHa-sras reported “For sMra Then-ba, From the sMra land Thang-brgyad, There are every kind of bad omen of the Klu lord bTsan-ba and Every kind of tormented spirit, and He is just about to be caught like a bird by means of [luring it with] a ritual cake. He is just about to be scooped up like a fish by means of bait.14 Rites and prognostication are to be done. A third gshen is requested to come from the sky.” These words were conveyed, and so The pha Mus-dpal Phrog-rol responded, “lHa-bo lHa-sras’s words are clear. I will also return [with you].”15 Mus-dpal Phrog-rol then mounts a white lha horse, is conveyed by a rMu cord from the sky to the earth, meets up with pha gShen-rab Myi-bo and sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras, and participates in successful rites to restore a life hovering on the brink of disaster. Like the precedents found in the Lungs Sogs-ka narrative cited above, in many ways this example prefigures the messenger bat as he appears in the

cult, not to mention the cult itself. There is a small flying creature, possessed of all faculties, conveying an oral message of bad news which induces a divine saviour of a sort to descend to earth for a positive ritual outcome in terms of the status of human life. Like sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras, the messenger bat in the cult narratives is also sgam, and he brings down a lha riding a white horse who meets gShen-rab Myi-bo, as we will see below and in part IV. It is worth noting also that the initial ‘master narrative’ introducing the origins of ‘bad omens’ (ltas ngan) with which the Byol rabs series is concerned is itself set ‘on top of the thirteenth level of the sky’, 16 and that is the exact destination of the messenger bat in rites throughout the cult wherever this figure appears. Moreover, the ‘flea’ (cf. CT lji) identification here is highly significant since insects including the f lea join birds and bats – and are often interchangeable with them – as the flying messengers occurring in shaman chants and folk tales right along the extended eastern Himalayas,17 as I will shortly discuss. As mentioned above, the second motif defining the messenger bat, namely the invitation required to persuade a reluctant lha to descend to the earth, is currently best known in the mythical role of lha sKar-ma Yol-lde, cousin to the progenitor emperor gNya’-khri bTsan-po (fig. 2). Some scholars regard this theme as a hallmark of the “invitation principle” defining the old ideal of kingship in the Tibetosphere.18 However, as I argue in chapter 16, it is better understood as representing folk tradition which first gets preserved in post-eleventh century Classical Tibetan myths, rather than reflecting any actual evidence about early Tibetan political systems. This later invitation motif draws upon the same conveyance of bad news idea already found in the older ritual texts but nuances it with the persuasiveness of the messenger. This ‘persuasive’ aspect of the messenger bat in the cult is derived from, or closely shares the same earlier folk sources as the sKar-ma Yol-lde sub-narrative in redactions of the gNya’-khri bTsan-po myth. As perhaps telling evidence of this, the Srid-pa’i lha worship community at Kheng Buli in Bhutan maintains a version of the invitation narrative in their local bon shaman manuscripts which features sKar-ma Yol-lde in the role instead of the messenger bat sGam-chen Pha-wang.19

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4.3 The Very Profound Bat The oldest dateable narrative I have come across featuring any specific ‘very profound’ (sgam che) identity of the messenger bat, is recorded in the second volume of the Gzi brjid, the ‘long’ hagiography of the g.Yung-drung Bon ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo compiled during the mid- to late fourteenth century. In a series of narratives about various beings, including animals and birds, the characters are revealed to have been past rebirths of gShen-rab Mi-bo, his family, members of the royal court, and so on. The tales are classic illustrations of the Indic moral cosmos and the ripening of past ‘actions’ or karma. One such tale contains a long and rambling narrative about ‘thirteen Bon messenger birds’ (bya bon phrin pa bcu gsum), among which the bat is classified as a type of ‘bird’.20 At the end of the story, it is revealed that the bat of antiquity in the narrative was in fact reborn as the ‘Brahmin who is a specialist in omens’ (bram ze mtshan mkhan) among the present audience who are hearing the tale.21 Obviously, these stories are g.Yung-drung Bon versions of Jataka narratives concerning the Buddha’s past existences, which Per Kværne pointed out as being among the originally Indic sources drawn upon by that religion’s pioneering hagiographers.22 It is also telling that, in the Gzi brjid presentation of the sNang-gshen theg pa, which deals primarily – albeit in a somewhat garbled and vague manner – with mundane rites of ‘elimination’ (sel) and ‘ransom’ (glud), the ‘thirteen Bon messenger birds’ are cited as the ones who can potentially act as go-betweens to bring the deities for worship,23 while the bat specifically features in some rites as well. This is a clue as to the origins of the bat motif, namely, within a pre-existing tradition of rites and myths addressing mundane goals, such as those evident in the dGa’-thang manuscripts and Old Tibetan documents, which early g.Yung-drung Bon encompassed and adapted within its own religious agenda (see ch. 14). Those sections of the long Gzi brjid account directly concerning the bat are given here as an abbreviated and partly paraphrased summary:

singers are disqualified from the role due to one or other inherent flaw. The bat, too, is initially rejected because, as he is told by the other birds, “Although you are a great carrier of profoundness (sgam khyer che), the body you were born with is so disagreeable that you can’t go out in public. Moreover, although your mouth is very profound (sgam che), your body is so disagreeable that its defects cannot be overlooked, so whoever will even listen to you?”24 After much ado, no bird can be found whose skill encompasses ‘profundity, words and discoursing, the three’ (sgam tshig mchid gsum) as required for the messenger mission. In desperation, attention finally shifts back to the ‘bird’ earlier called the “carrier of profundity bat” (sgam khyer pha wang).25 An ancient precedent for the possibility of the ugly bat acting as a skilled messenger is then invoked by the talkative parrot, who often features as the dominant interlocutor throughout the story. The bat retorts that, while he himself is indeed capable of profound and eloquent words, the other birds have pointed out how ugly he is compared with the parrot’s fine crest and shining green feathers. The only way he could possibly go as the messenger would be in disguise. The phoenix then plies him with drink and requests that he do this. Pleased that he has got his own way, the bat instructs the other birds, “Now, I need a turban affixed to my head, a cloak draped upon my back, bracelets clasped to my wrists, and a riding mount beneath me as well.”26 In response, the other birds affix a turban of cotton wool to his head, drape a cloak of tree leaves over his body, clasp bracelets of mango wood to his wrists, and place him upon a flying squirrel 27 as a mount. In this rustic costume, the bat is thus led off by the house sparrow while being supported to the right and left by the peacock and the phoenix, respectively. The bat finally proclaims, “Very well! Very well! Very well! I must call out to the hosts of lha, klu and humans, all three!” 28

Among the thirteen birds, a suitable and capable candidate must be found to act as a messenger among various classes of beings. It transpires that all the birds, whether powerful flyers, of superior splendour, or fine

In its construct of the bat figure, this Gzi brjid narrative draws deeply upon and adapts Old Tibetan vocabulary and concepts from the imperial cult, and cultural tropes associated with older models of ritual specialists for mundane

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rites, as well as widespread folk images. The references here to sgam and sgam che have their roots in the language of the Old Tibetan pillar inscriptions and manuscripts. Sgam or thugs sgam po is an essential quality attributed to the btsan po emperors who descend from the lha in the sky. It marks them as being ‘profound’ or ‘sagacious’. The frequent Old Tibetan expression sgam dkyel chen po 29 applied to btsan po meant something like ‘overwhelming sagacity’ or ‘great versatility’. The latter expression is of etymological interest in relation to sgam che in the Gzi brjid and sgam chen in the messenger bat’s name within the cult. According to Classical Tibetan abbreviation rules, second syllables generally drop out of compounds, such that sgam dkyel chen po would become sgam chen. Old Tibetan sgam descriptions for imperial rulers became reused in different ways for the composition of early Classical Tibetan myths. For example, the Phywa or Srid-pa’i lha deities were described as being sgam po.30 We also find primordial ritual specialists who represent such deities being newly named sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras which was derived from Old Tibetan rje Bla-bo Bla-sras in ritual antecedent narratives.31 Thus, within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the qualities of the messenger bat who is sgam chen are equated to some extent with the sky deities he must meet and be capable of persuading, as well as with the ritual specialists closely linked to those deities. The very old set of associations between the sky, bats and profoundness has travelled far and wide around the cultural milieu of the Tibetosphere.32 While the Gzi brjid’s compound sgam khyer description of the bat itself may likely be an adapted development of Old Tibetan sgam dkyel, the idea that the bat is a sgam khyer ‘carrier of profundity’ is a variation upon the Tibetan name for ‘firefly’ me [’]khyer, literally the ‘carrier of fire’ (cf. CT ’bu me ’khyer, Dzongkha srin bu me khyer). This association with a small, f lying, fire-carrying being points back to a paneastern Himalayan myth about the origins of fire involving bats, flying insects and small birds. Such myths are either found preserved in various Himalayan shamanic traditioncomplexes or in the general body of folklore maintained by communities along the mountain chain. They define one major dimension of the messenger bat within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, as we will see below. It is this widespread eastern

Himalayan mythical figure of the small, flying fire-carrier, and the able, small flying messenger, such as the ‘Flea with All the Senses’ (rJi-dang sKye-mched-po) who functions as an auxiliary for gshen and pha ritual specialists performing mundane rites in the dGa’-thang narratives, that provided the older basis for the messenger bat. Much in the Gzi brjid narrative patently overlaps with themes in the earlier gNya’-khri bTsan-po myth and other old ritual texts. For example, the bat is first costumed appropriately for the other world he must go to, and departs accompanied by three assistants, one leading out in front and a pair supporting him on either side. This is the exact constellation found in the older myth of the progenitor emperor as he sets out to descend from the sky world to earth.33 The later g.Yung-drung Bon trope of the thirteen birds was highly likely adapted from Old Tibetan ritual texts for mundane rites in which ritual specialists like bon and gshen regularly deploy different bird species – most of which are included in the bya bon phrin pa bcu gsum list – or their body parts (e.g., wings and feathers) for a range of purposes such as healing, and protecting or guiding the mobile vitality principle (or ‘soul’), and so forth.34 The core themes in the Gzi brjid version of the messenger bat – being profound and eloquent, yet also ugly, and thus using disguises or subversions – are all most strongly represented in Himalayan folk traditions, including narratives used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and in various other shamanic traditioncomplexes. Yet, the Gzi brjid bat tale ultimately comes across as a highly sanitised transmission of these motifs to make them suitable for the Indic Jataka model it reproduces. Himalayan folk stories about clever bats are replete with motifs of theft, trickery and deceit, sexuality, moral ambivalence and portrayals of the culture hero as an unlikely but daring loner. These characteristics equate to the widespread figure of the ‘trickster’ described by folklorists and anthropologists.

4.4 Bats as Eastern Himalayan Tricksters The trickster has been identified as a widespread theme occurring in folklore and mythology from many parts of

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the world, including the Himalayan and Tibetan Plateau regions. Beyond the trickster’s inherent cleverness, scholars have variously defined what their essential traits might be. Reading indigenous North American myths, Claude Lévi-Strauss held that the trickster’s fundamental role is as a mediator, and thus their go/in between status dictates “an ambiguous and equivocal character.”35 Drawing upon Paul Radin’s classic study of North American tricksters, Stuart Blackburn identified several core traits for the east Himalayan trickster and progenitor being, Abo Tani, who is widely popular among peoples speaking Tani languages in areas immediately east of the distribution zone of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. These traits include eloquence, a protean ambiguity that “knows neither good nor evil yet he is responsible for both”, culture heroes who bring fire or initiate fundamental institutions, a strong interest in sexuality, and being an ancestor figure.36

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é Map 4. Known locations of messenger and trickster bat narratives along the extended eastern Himalayas.

The messenger bat in the Srid-pa’i lha cult certainly fits Blackburn’s trickster profile. He is eloquent, highly ambiguous, has culture hero status, while sexuality is more marginal in his stories it is nevertheless present. And although seldom himself depicted as an ancestor, the bat claims false ancestor status often in order to trick others, and sometimes is presented as the ‘son’ of the ultimate lha apical ancestor, ’O-de Gung-rgyal (see ch. 7), which qualifies him via ancestry as the principal interlocutor with such deities in their own abode, the sky world. Many of the trickster traits of the bat, or bat as messenger, occur in folklore recorded from eastern Bhutan right along the extended eastern Himalayas to the Naxi region of north-west Yunnan, and can be traced

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northwards up into the Qiang settlement area of western Sichuan, as I will discuss below. Despite bats appearing in some older ‘bon’-identified Tibetan language narratives, there are no good reasons to think their origins and significance in myths and rites ever lay upon the Tibetan Plateau. Rather, we have every reason to consider the messenger/trickster bat as coming from the extended eastern Himalayas and far eastern margins of the Plateau. From an ecological perspective, we know that the bat is not a creature of the high Plateau, while bats of all types are abundant throughout the eastern Himalayan middle hill tracts and the forests and deep river valleys of the far south-eastern zone along the fringes of the Plateau system. Bats have always fallen outside the direct experience of most Tibetan Plateau dwellers, and thus only very occasionally occur as a minor symbol in non-ritual contexts within Tibetan Plateau culture.37 To my present knowledge, the advent of such examples are all historically late, and they appear to be both culturally and graphically derived from imperial China.38 The bat was regarded by Chinese as a general symbol of good fortune and happiness from around the seventeenth century onwards, and this was based upon homophony between the identical spoken expressions of the differently written characters for ‘bat’ (spoken fu, or bian fu) and ‘good luck’ (spoken fu).39 Further attestations of the cultural obscurity of bats across the Tibetan Plateau are not hard to find. After surveying several hundred Tibetanlanguage folktale narratives featuring animals and birds as central characters, I found only two examples in which the bat appears. 40 In both those cases, the bat character is an intelligent trickster figure, and the stories were collected from parts of the far south-eastern Tibetan Plateau marches region directly adjacent to Naxi and Namuyi settlement areas. Indeed, throughout this and other extreme southern and eastern margin regions of the Tibetan Plateau system we know of scores of local stories in a wide range of variants, including folktales and ritual antecedent narratives, that feature bats in the specific role of a messenger and/or a trickster. Distribution of the known sites of such bat narratives is plotted on map 4.41

Considering that the bat is a classificatory ‘bird’ in our sources, it is of interest that, throughout the same distribution range of eastern Himalayan bat narratives shown on map 4, we also find narratives about other birds who are messengers and helpers, and more rarely tricksters. 42 Within this entire distribution range of bat motifs and narratives, there are only three real ‘hotspots’ with concentrated occurrence and demonstrably sophisticated forms: the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s distribution zone; the mid- to upper Subansiri River valley; and the Naxi settlement region. This is further evidence of an older ancestral link between peoples in these three regions, as I will give much more evidence for in chapters 17 and 18. Here I will review how the sGam-chen Pha-wang bat in the cult expresses his trickster traits, with reference to Naxi versions of the same material.

Morphological Ambivalence The “protean ambiguity” Stuart Blackburn mentions as a characteristic of tricksters in folklore manifests in the sGam-chen Pha-wang figure in different modes. In terms of morality, the very profound bat will never hesitate to steal from or deceive one party, yet only to give significant benefit to another party. A typical example occurs in the Me rabs or [Origins of] Fire Narrative to be discussed below. At the level of physical appearance and identity, the very profound bat is also highly ambiguous, which reflects both general attitudes towards bats in eastern Himalayan and Tibetan thinking, as well as aspects of actual bat morphology. The bat’s common Tibetan name pha wang is frequently glossed as, and exchangeable with, bya ma byi literally ‘neither bird nor rat’ meaning ‘half bird, half rat’.43 This is a direct reference to its apparent hybrid morphology, while in some Tibetan dialects ‘night rat/mouse’ (mtshan byi/byi’u) is a synonym for bat.44 Bya ma byi, expressing as it does a native classificatory ambivalence, actually realistically reflects the diverse range of bat species found throughout the eastern Himalayas and the far south-eastern Tibetan plateau margins. That zoological diversity includes both the more bird-like smaller bats, and the larger flying foxes or fruit bats whose facial features can appear more rat-like or dog-like (pl. 15).

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There is a general, albeit not strict, morphological divide in the Order Chiroptera to which bats belong. This divide is between bat species within the group of Microbats (SubOrder Microchiroptera), which are often rather small and resemble birds such as small species of swallows or swifts when flying, and the larger Megabats (Sub-Order Megachiroptera, Family Pteropodidae), which often have somewhat pointed snouts and teeth resembling a rodent, fox or dog. It is of interest that, in our local narratives about the messenger bat, such as in the example quoted immediately below, the sGam-chen Pha-wang bat’s morphological ambivalence is an exaggerated cultural construct. It draws upon features typical of both Microbat species (pl. 14), including proportionally larger ears and complex, often symmetrically divided lips and noses, and Megabat species, such as fanglike teeth, longer snouts and larger claw-like feet (pl. 15). As we saw in the Gzi brjid narrative above, although eloquent and skilled, the bat is nevertheless plagued by an unacceptable appearance due to its perceived hybridity and failure to easily fit into taxonomic categories. In ritual antecedent narratives used by bon shamans, the great Srid-pa’i lha in the sky world, such as Yab-lha bDal-drug and ’O-de Gung-rgyal, are utterly merciless in drawing public attention to the bat’s hybrid appearance. For instance, in a ritual text performed in the Khoma Chu valley of north-east Bhutan, the messenger bat first appears and introduces himself in front of the entire host of lha up on top of the thirteenth level of the sky world. However, by way of a ‘welcome’ he receives the following interrogation from them: [5a]

One hundred male deities, And one hundred female deities inquired: “You, from down below in the land where three valleys meet, A small man with a head like a rat, Riding upon a conch [white] sheep; Such a sight as we have never before experienced,

è Plate 14. Characteristic features of Microbats. ê Plate 15. Characteristic features of Megabats.

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Must be a bad omen from the earth that has arrived in the sky.45 Are you the one called sGam-chen Pha-wang?” [5b] […] The great Srid-pa’i lha said: “sGam-chen Pha-wang, listen here: Why are your lips wickedly cleft? Why are your ears like a donkey’s? Why is it you have fangs like a beast of prey?46 [6a] Why is it you have wings like fine cloth? Why is it you have feet [clawed] like a pangolin’s?”47 sGam-chen Pha-wang replied, “With these wickedly cleft lips, I am the messenger of human beings to the lha. These fangs like a beast of prey, Are to eat the ’dre, srin po and ’byung po [demons], all three. These ears like a donkey, Are for listening to the words of the lha. These wings like fine cloth, Are for conjoining both the sky and the earth. These feet [clawed] like a pangolin, Are to firmly perform ritual stepping (bro) for the lha upon.48 Do not call me a “bad omen”! If you call me a “bad omen”, [6b] The widow’s curse 49 will befall you.” The great Srid-pa’i lha retorted, “You, so-called sGam-chen Pha-wang, Considering the manner in which you have just spoken, And the ‘beauty’50 of your body, I wonder whether I shouldn’t obliterate you? Go back to where you came from!”51

all local variants of ya [b]zhur already occurring in preeleventh century Old Tibetan documents, such as in the name of the god Thang-lha Ya-[b]zhur, as well as to name or describe a divine horse as shu bzhur. Later Classical Tibetan zhur refers to an animal’s long ‘snout’ or ‘muzzle’ such as those of a horse or dog, or the ‘trunk’ of an elephant, and the compound ya zhur would mean an ‘up[raised] snout/trunk’. Thus, the shamans’ full name for their f lying helper is best understood as Very Profound Bat With Upraised Snout/Trunk.

Thus, besides references to rodents and birds, the shamans add morphological elements from larger carnivores, donkeys and anteaters (i.e., the pangolin in the Himalayas) to the spectrum of ambivalence accorded the bat. Yet, this is not the end of it. The bat’s full, formal name in shaman manuscripts is actually sGam-chen Pha-wang Ye-zur. The final name element is subject to local orthographic variation, including ye zhur, yer zur, yer zhur or yer bzhur, and is held to describe the bat’s nose. These parochial forms are

Not for a moment should we allow ourselves to think that eastern Himalayan shamans are merely using their poetic licence to create sGam-chen Pha-wang as some fantastical reassembled creature, a so-called chimaera.52 Rather, we are dealing with important evidence about where these myths originated and continue to circulate. As noted above, all the morphological features invoked by the shamans are zoologically attested in real Chiroptera, in both Microbats and the larger Megabats. But, what of an upraised trunk? Many

The bon shamans have no known paintings or drawings of sGam-chen Pha-wang. However, the Naxi people of northwest Yunnan (China) – 1000 kilometres further east of the bon shamans along the Himalayas – do regularly depict messenger bats that have virtually the same cultural profile as their mythological relative sGam-chen Pha-wang. These images occur as dedicated graphemes in the unique pictographic script of the Naxi dtô-mbà shamans (pl. 16), as well as in miniature paintings on opening pages of dtô-mbà manuscripts (pl. 17). Graphemes and paintings of the Naxi messenger bats Dzî-boâ-p’èr or Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr clearly reveal their curious, upraised snout that is curled at the end exactly like an elephant’s trunk. Although equivalents of Tibetan ye zhur/ya zhur are not (or no longer?) present in Naxi shamans’ descriptions of their messenger bats, the Tibetan compound would perfectly describe this peculiar facial feature. This small detail is just one among a whole range of closely cognate elements that both the geographically distant ritual cultures of bon shamans and Naxi dtô-mbà shamans share in common, attesting to a deeper but unknown connection back in the distant past which I will continue to elaborate with other examples throughout this work.

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species of Microbats have highly complex muzzle parts. These were revealed to the European public long ago on Ernst Haeckel’s wonderful drawing Chiroptera (pl. 14), in his famous work Kunstformen der Natur (1904). There are in fact several bat families – such as the Phyllostomidae, Hipposideridae and Megadermatidae – that have an elongated, upright muzzle feature known as the “leaf ” or “leaf-nose”, and these appear very close to the upraised trunk of the Himalayan shamans’ bat. The leaf or leaf-nose is thought to function as part of the animal’s echolocation apparatus. Some genre within the Hipposideridae and Megadermatidae, the so-called Old World leaf-nosed bats, occur across Asia, as well as in the eastern Himalayan highlands. They must surely be the zoological representatives from which shamans derived their bat’s upraised trunk. Various examples of elongated central leafs protruding upwards from bat’s muzzles are depicted on Haeckel’s Chiroptera. Himalayan shamans do entertain certain chimaera, such as winged sheep and winged horses. Yet, their speaking messenger bat with muzzle resembling a small elephant’s truck is certainly not one of them. It evinces a direct and close observational familiarity with both major sub-orders of bats. This specifically means peoples living in the eastern Himalayas and the adjacent far south-eastern corners of the Tibetan Plateau, where species from both sub-orders of bats occur together. This is certainly the case for Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, where the fauna includes thirteen flying fox and bat

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é Plate 16. Naxi pictograph of the white messenger bat, Hà-yî-dzîboâ-p’èr, with trunk-like nose depicted speaking in a Szî chúng bpò’ manuscript. í Plate 17. Naxi pictograph of the messenger bat, Dzî-boâ-p’èr, with trunk-like nose in a Szî chúng bpò’ manuscript.

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species representing four different families of Chiroptera, while the Naxi region is similar. Rather, the bat in shaman chants and rites reflects literary and performative skill cleverly based upon the refined indigenous taxonomy of living things found along the eastern Himalayan highland zone among societies speaking non-Tibetic Tibeto-Burman languages. As in the Gzi brjid story of the messenger bat above, and in many other eastern Himalayan folktales of the trickster bat,53 the problematic ambiguity of sGam-chen Pha-wang’s appearance is resolved in Srid-pa’i lha narratives by hiding or disguising the bat’s physical appearance with costumes, ornaments and accoutrements. He is most frequently

é Plate 18. Two Naxi miniature paintings of the messenger bat draped with a white silk scarf on ritual cards used for the Szî chúng bpò’ or ‘Ceremony to Reconnect Lost Longevity’.

adorned in white silk (dar dkar), such as a felicitation scarf (kha btags), to render a transformation. This same feature is depicted in images employed in the Naxi dtô-mbà religion, where the messenger bat is represented draped in a white silk scarf (pl. 18) on ritual cards for the Szî chúng bpò’ or ‘Ceremony to Reconnect Lost Longevity’. The white silk scarf or flag signifies much more than a type of garment in the myths of the messenger bat. Sometimes

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referred to as the g.yang dar, it is an insignia of the Phywa or Srid-pa’i lha deities and their life powers offering fertility and vitality. During rites, a ritual specialist must wave the white scarf or flag in the air to welcome the descending deities. It is also a known medium for transfer of the life powers of the Srid-pa’i lha between the sky world and the human world on earth. Examples of this often appear in Srid-pa’i lha rites, as we can see in a fertility rite involving the bat to be discussed below. Another key dimension of the bat’s ambiguity in many of the folk narratives from the eastern Himalayas and also the cult’s narratives, and one related to the theme of disguise as well, is the creature’s shadowy and often hidden presence, while always poised to make high profile appearances and engage in incisive public discourse. The word sgam [pa/po], carrying the senses of ‘profound’ or ‘deep’, also partly defines how the bat’s knowledge is gained. He often remains silently in a hidden place, or under cover of night, all the while carefully gathering detailed information by listening and watching, which becomes knowledge he can eventually employ to either outsmart or help others. Unlike the narratives of the religious redactors, in ritual texts and folktales addressing mundane concerns it is the domestic dwelling that is invariably the site of the bat’s keen observations made from hiding places. For example, in Naxi myths of anthropogenesis, the messenger bat hides in the rafters or on top of a deity’s house up in heaven to secretly obtain vital information. A similar version of the myth among the Drung or Rawang has the bat hide underneath the house around the hearth place, and in a Lepcha or Rong narrative, we find the bat hanging from the corners of the house’s thatched roof so as to remain unseen to its inhabitants within while he broadcasts his trickery.54 This recurring link between the bat with the earth-bound house is not incidental, as anyone who has spent time in run-down, old wooden houses – particularly abandoned ones – in the Himalayas can testify. In some Tibetan dialects, the expression khyim du ’gro or ‘go to the house’ is actually a synonym for the word ‘bat’ (pha wang).

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Eloquence When the bat speaks, it is with carefully measured words. Indeed, he is chosen as the messenger precisely because his ability encompasses ‘profundity, words and discoursing, the three’ (sgam tshig mchid gsum). The same phrase can also be read as ‘three profound words/statements’ that can be spoken. In Classical Tibetan, tshig gsum by itself often has the general meaning of ‘a speech’ which one delivers. However, in a more colloquial vein, it is a direct reference here to a kind of agency – the capacity to act – which is typically lauded in oral cultures, and there are various pithy Tibetan popular expressions incorporating it.55 This later notion of tshig gsum has deep roots in the old ritual culture of bon and gshen priests, and it is no wonder it is a characteristic of a bat who serves as their mythical messenger, and even on occasion as a type of auxiliary being for shamans. As reflected in Old Tibetan documents and the dGa’-thang manuscripts, as well as in the ritual speech of the bon shaman within the cult, tshig gsum ‘three words’ always refers to the uttering of a powerful spell or curse, as explained in chapter 7. The same idea is found in the ritual chants of the Qiang bimo shamans of the western Sichuan highlands. Their main premodern ethnographer, David Crockett Graham, recorded that the Qiang expression “repeat three words” referred to “a magic formula, incantation, or chant”, and observed this to be the case in practice.56 Exactly the same idea occurs in Naxi myth motifs found in various dtô-mbà manuscripts.57 This emphasis on the ability to speak three words or statements occurs in the Naxi dtô-mbà redactions of the messenger bat narrative entitled Bpò’ p’à gkó shù or ‘Search for the Books of Divination.’ In that story, an illness must be cured on earth and a set of divination books which are kept by the female deity P’èr-ndzî-ssâw-mâ’ up in the sky are required to effect a remedy. When other birds are disqualified as the messengers who must visit P’èr-ndzî-ssâw-mâ’ to persuade the deity and fetch the books, a discussion ensues about who should go. Powerful Khyù-gú, the wife of the Garuda, volunteers to do it and so declares:

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“[M]y body and wings are large, I can easily fly to the realm of the gods, but as regards speaking, I am stupid and therefore cannot express myself. Three sentences (even) I am unable to pronounce there.” [The bat] Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr then said: I am able to converse, I am quite loquacious, I can go, three sentences I am quite capable of pronouncing, but my body and wings are weak and feeble also I have no tail, therefore I cannot fly to the celestial realm and would never arrive there.58 Again, the bat’s morphology is the core problem. So, by way of a clever trick, the bat succeeds in using the female Garuda as his mount to carry him aloft to meet P’èr-ndzîssâw-mâ’ (pls. 19, 20).

é Plate 19. Naxi miniature painting of messenger bat flying to the sky, mounted upon the female Garuda, in a Bpò’ p’à gkó shù manuscript. í Plate 20. Naxi pictograph of messenger bat and female Garuda meeting the female deity P’èr-ndzî-ssâw-mâ’ in a Naxi Bpò’ p’à gkó shù manuscript.

In Srid-pa’i lha rabs, these three words or statements associated with the bat’s special abilities in other related narratives are revealed, literally, as indeed being truly profound (sgam).59 For example, in the oral and textual tradition of the Srid-pa’i lha worship communities around Changmadung along the lower Kholong Chu river, narratives present the sGam-chen Pha-wang bat being sent up to the sky by the ritual specialist gShen-rab Mi-bo, in order to invite a lha down to the land of human beings. On top of the sky world, the messenger bat comes face to face with the great Srid-pa’i lha progenitor, ’O-de Gung-rgyal, who poses him challenging questions to test his mettle:

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Once again, the lha [’O-de Gung-rgyal] spoke: “sGam-chen Pha-wang, listen here! In the beginning, from where did we, the lha, appear? As for our birth, where were we born? In the meantime, we exist, but where do we exist? At the end, we will disappear, but where will we disappear? If you understand these words, then you are an accomplished one.” sGam-chen Pha-wang Ye-zur stood his ground [and answered]: “In the beginning, whatever was born was born into space. In the meantime, whatever moves about moves about in space. In the meantime, whatever exists, exists in space. At the end, whatever disappears, disappears into space. For that reason, [the answer] is the essence of space.”60 Those words were his response.61 This question and answer style of exchange is found in a wide variety of ‘bon’-identified myths from all periods, including those used in the cult and by the Naxi dtô-mbà. While the bat, despite – and perhaps also because of – his clever words, is initially rebuffed by ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the above example, he finally succeeds to invite the great Srid-pa’i lha down to earth by way of both his trickery and tenacity. This reveals why sGam-chen Pha-wang is sometimes given the title of ston pa, a designation that is conventionally glossed as ‘teacher’ in religious contexts like those of Buddhism or g.Yung-drung Bon. Yet, the messenger bat in ritual antecedent narratives imparts no ‘teachings’ as such in any manner familiar from those latter salvation religions. sTon pa can also be literally translated as ‘the one who demonstrates/reveals [something]’, and what the bat ultimately demonstrates is the precedent for how rites to invite Srid-pa’i lha are successfully performed. This is the appropriate understanding of ston pa when it is used in relation to the main initiator figures, including the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo, in local ritual language used for Srid-pa’i lha worship.

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Compared with the salvation religions it exists alongside of, the Srid-pa’i lha cult contains no explicit instructions or rules for life, nor promises any ultimate solutions to the weighty problems of human existence and action in a morally fraught universe. Yet, it is not bereft of its own type of life wisdom that is conveyed to those who hear the bon shaman chant its narratives. Stories about sGamchen Pha-wang are one of the main vehicles for this within the cult. He represents the victory of the clever and eloquent whose skill in oratory and strategic ploys based upon astute observation – as opposed to brute force – can achieve desired but highly challenging goals, even via the agency of the most unlikely individual. In certain respects, sGam-chen Pha-wang is a consummate folk hero figure for ordinary persons, and this perhaps accounts for his enduring popularity in the cult’s worship communities where his character exists.

Culture Hero Acting as a culture hero is another hallmark of the trickster that applies to the bat within both the cult and the Naxi dtô-mbà tradition. Aside from being an initiator figure in establishing Srid-pa’i lha rites themselves, the bat is the lead character in the Me rabs or [Origins of] Fire Narrative that expresses the archaic theme of the primordial theft of fire from the gods and its gift to humans. The Me rabs relates how sGam-chen Pha-wang steals fire from the land of the carnivorous Srin-po demons, and then brings it back to the world for the benefit of the other classes of beings who require fire. The story shares many motifs with the ancient Greek myth of the trickster Titan Prometheus, who steals fire from the gods for human use, albeit that the trickster bat is completely successful, suffering no punishment for his theft. The primordial theft of key ‘civilisational’ elements is also linked to the bat in Qiang societies, where the bat is the thief who steals salt.62 This association is interesting since, in certain versions of the Me rabs from Bumthang and Kurtö in eastern Bhutan, sGam-chen Pha-wang uses salt itself as the means to steal fire. Moreover, in Naxi myths, we find that the intense ambiguity between bat and rat identities for messenger figures is intimately related to the theft of fire.63

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Thus, the ‘bat as culture hero’ motif extends along the eastern Himalayas from the Srid-pa’i lha cult region as far as the Qiang settled in the highlands of western Sichuan. As is typical of all ritual antecedent narratives employed within the cult, Me rabs come in multiple versions depending upon which bon shaman’s manuscripts one consults, and which oral performance context is being observed. Below, I will compare two versions of Me rabs, the first only found in oral transmission, and the second from a manuscript transmission. The first, oral version most strongly presents the bat – here called sGam-po Pha-wang – as a trickster culture hero who steals fire. It is that chanted by the bon po of Nyimshong village on the west bank of the Jamkhar Chu river in Kheng Chikor. It is performed in public during the annual Kharpu festival for Srid-pa’i lha worship staged around the middle of the ninth Bhutanese lunar month, 64 being chanted during the evening of the second day of the main festival, together with the Sa chags rabs or Creation of the World Narrative. The nocturnal setting is significant since bon shamans frequently chant their own ritual journeys up into the sky to fetch the ancestral lha down at night. Similar versions of the narrative are shared by bon po in neighbouring villages along the west bank of the Jamkhar Chu, and an analogous written version was in circulation to the north in the Bumthap speaking Ura district, although it is no longer used in rites. Since such chants often lack certain framing details which are merely assumed, or that local audiences already know well, I have inserted parenthetically into the translation a few clarifying phrases provided by the bon po who chanted the text:

[Origins of] Fire Narrative The daughter of the lha, ’Od-ldan-ma, The daughter of the klu, gZi-ldan-ma, And the daughter of the human beings, mDangs-ldan-ma, Had food that lacked nourishment, And clothing that lacked warmth. A divination and an astrological calculation were made.

The ’phags pa ’ jam pa’i dbyangs astrologer65 [told them], “There, in the middle of a rock cave,66 is sGam-po Pha-wang. As for fire, it is in the land of the Srin-po. [Since you cannot go to the land of the Srin-po, You must first seek sGam-po Pha-wang and send him to get fire].” The daughter of the lha went to the dwelling place of sGam-po [Pha-wang]. She descended into the top of the cave one step, and then two steps. She cried with fear, “Adre! Adre!” [Then ran back out]. Then, the daughter of the klu went to the dwelling place of sGam-po [Pha-wang]. She descended one step then descended a second step. She descended a third step then descended a fourth step. Upon descending a fifth step, she cried with fear, “Adre! Adre!” [Then ran back out]. The daughters of both the lha and the klu were unable to go in there. They requested the daughter of human beings to go. She descended one step then took a short second step. She descended a second step then took a short third step. She thought of her father and mother. She descended a fourth step then took a short fifth step. She thought of her siblings and relatives. She descended a sixth step then took a short seventh step. She thought of her son and daughter. There, she bowed very respectfully to sGam-po Pha-wang. sGam-po [Pha-wang] asked, “From where have you come?” She replied, “I do not have any fire; it is found in the land of the Srin-po. sGam-po [Pha-wang], go to the land of the Srin-po and bring back fire.” Then he went to the land of the Srin-po. He caught some fireflies as he went.

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Gradually, he arrived in the land of the Srin-po. [sGam-po hid himself inside a house to secretly observe the Srin-po]. He hid [the fireflies] inside the bamboo tubes of the drying rack [above the hearth]. When all the Srin-po gathered in the house for a meal together, They smelt meat, and they smelt fish, and having noticed the smell of something new The Srin-po said, “Now we will eat this new meat.” Despite their talk, sGam-po [Pha-wang] was hidden and thus unseen. [He observed their use of fire and thought to himself,] “The sparks of the striking iron and flint stone, That is the Srin-po’s very own fire. Whosoever has fire, it is that made by the Srin-po. That also is what sGam-po [Pha-wang] will carry and go off with. This firewood and the flames on it, This too is the Srin-po’s very own fire. That also is what sGam-po [Pha-wang] will carry and go off with.” After releasing the fireflies [that resembled sparks to fool the Srin-po], sGam-po [Pha-wang] took the fire from the land of the Srin-po. When sGam-po [Pha-wang] informed the three daughters, “Now I have come with fire from the land of the Srin-po”, The three daughters fought over it, [Each] demanding, “I need the fire! I need the fire!” So sGam-po [Pha-wang said], “The daughter of the lha is very clean. Because she is very clean, I offer her the smoke. The daughter of the klu is as pure as yogurt. Because she is as pure as yogurt, I give her the ashes. The daughter of human beings is very skilled in cooking. Because she is very skilled in cooking, I give her the flame.67

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On the one hand, this Nyimshong version of the Me rabs shares elements in common with the messenger bat tale and other narratives it occurs together with in volume two of the Gzi brjid. In an early tale in the Gzi brjid, we also find daughters of three classes of beings, that of the lha named ’Od-ldan Nyi-ma, of the klu named Padma gZigs-mdzes-ma and those of several apparently human lineages of different status, among them one named gTsang-mdzes-ma, and all of which appear similar to the names in the Nyimshong Me rabs.68 Still further on in the Gzi brjid, there is a tale about the Srin-po planning to go on a raid and steal from the sTaggzig king, who, noticed by Srin-po spies, has left his palace empty to go and stay in the fruiting groves of the southern forests. If the young Srin-po thieves cannot manage the heist, rats will then be sent in instead.69 And in the tale of the thirteen birds, the bat’s customary habitat as identified as being a ‘deep cave’.70 On the other hand, this Me rabs has the form of chanted origin tales explaining different aspects of the life world that are included in various Himalaya shamanic tradition-complexes (see ch. 6). Employed within a ritual context, the Me rabs serves as a ritual antecedent narrative of the ‘primordial search’ type accounting for the requisite materials and implements for a rite. It also contains all the hallmarks of eastern Himalayan folk tales about the bat, and there are further interesting parallels with the Gzi brjid, such as the sgam khyer word play on traditional me khyer. Moreover, the trope of three daughters occurs widely in eastern Himalayan folktales, for example in the ancestral mythology of the Qiang71 who have no known contact with g.Yung-drung Bon and its literature, as well as among the Naxi, but especially in their tales about the messenger bat.72 The second Me rabs version we can compare here is that chanted during the bi-annual Cha or Pcha festivals staged by the Kurtöp speaking Srid-pa’i lha worship communities in Kurtö along the upper Kuri Chu valley. It is found with minor variations in bon shaman manuscripts and oral repertoires throughout the valley. The Me rabs example translated below is from Shawa, which appears to be something of an epicentre for the spread of the cult along the true left (i.e., eastern) bank of the river. In context, it follows at the end of a long series of rabs. These are dedicated to the origins, deities and substances involved in the different types

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of ritual purification for the Srid-pa’i lha ancestor and clan deities, and for clearing their path of descent down from the sky to earth, as well as for cleansing the offensive human moral and physical environment upon earth. Together, they comprise the cycle of sel rites. The narrator of the Me rabs is the primordial gshen called “elder brother” (A’o) Ya-ngal Gyim-kong to be discussed in the following section: [39b...] Elder brother Ya-ngal explained:

[40a]

“At one time, original fire did not exist. The bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Went to search for fire in the land of the Srin-po. He flew and flew, and soared and soared, Then arrived upon the summit of a high mountain. Looking around, he spotted the grey fortress of the Srin-po. The bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Devised a very clever approach. Then, he arrived in the land of the Srin-po. Since the male Srin-po had gone to hunt deer, there were none around. Since the female Srin-po had gone to catch fish, they were not there either. Their sons and daughters had gone to watch over the cattle. [So, sGam-chen Pha-wang] extinguished the fire in the hearth. He emptied out the water of the cauldron. He slipped under the threshold below the door, Settled down there and looked around.73 Towards evening time, The male Srin-po returned home from hunting deer. The female Srin-po returned home from catching fish. Their sons and daughters returned from tending the cattle. The one hundred male and female Srin-po then said, “Who has been in my house? The fire in the hearth has been extinguished, and there is none. The water in the cauldron has been emptied out, and there is none. Have the lha appeared here searching for fire? Have the klu appeared here searching for fire?”

They took out the fire[-making] implements from beneath the hearth. Whether or not there is fire, one can strike up a fire [40b] With both a very keen [striking-]iron and a quartz [flint stone], And with both a strong spark and some tinder. By bringing these together, The sparks are like stars, rgyang se rgyang, And the smoke is like turquoise petals, tu lu lu, And, again, the [implements] are placed beneath the hearth. [Thus, sGam-chen Pha-wang learned the secret of fire, and so stole it.] The father of fire is the [flint stone] lHa-rdo dKar-po. The mother of fire is the [striking iron] lCags-rdo Nag-po. As for their sons, they produced four brothers: The Pleiades Constellation which appears in the sky; Both the Sun and Moon which appear in the intermediate space; And the various flowers that appear on the earth. There is fire that burns as the eternal light. There is fire that is endowed with sweet fragrance. There is fire that dispels the darkness of ignorance. There is fire that consumes every afflictive obstruction. There is fire for [preparing] plentiful meat, butter and beer, all three. Not only will it burn the nine types of wood, It will also burn the nine types of incense.”74 This Shawa Me rabs is less of a showcase for the bat as a culture hero, and more of an actual ritual antecedent narrative explicitly linked into the sequence of rabs comprising sel rites. Its last two lines allude to the ninefold materials burnt for the fumigation rite whose origins have been explained already in another rabs in the same series. In simple yet evocative terms, it also does what so many shaman narratives of origins do, animate its subject, thus fire is given a kinship, as well as a set of essential characteristics and capacities. The father of fire is the lHa-rdo dKar-po or ‘White Rock of the lHa’, a symbol of quintessential importance throughout the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and one which strongly relates the cult to

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a shared ancestry with the ritual cultures of the Qiang and Naxi peoples along the far eastern margins of the Tibetan Plateau, as discussed in chapter 17. The shaman traditions in both these societies, and in the cult, all share the trickster bat and the white rock, and it is another curiosity that the Gzi brjid includes this same connection. In its tale of the thirteen birds, the bat designates habitats for a whole series of birds, and for his own resting place he must take the Brag-dkar rTse-rgyal or ‘White Rock Victorious Peak’.75 The function of the Me rabs as an actual ritual antecedent also has an interesting parallel in the Lepcha or Rong narrative on the Origin of Marriage (Bri-it). Exactly this narrative, of stealing the knowledge and requisites for making fire from a house in the land of the demons – albeit that the thieves are an unsuccessful bird and a successful flying insect – is incorporated into the Lepcha tale of challenges to enable the first marriage. Within the story, the origins of both fire and yeast are explained as the antecedents to brewing the required chi millet alcohol for the marriage sacrifice.76 While the Naxi and Qiang live far to the east of the Srid-pa’i lha cult region, the Lepcha live to the west, and very obviously the Me rabs exists within a wider continuum of indigenous highland mythology right along the extended eastern Himalayas. Given all the materials surveyed above, it appears that g.Yung-drung Bon redactors have drawn upon very old and widespread but non-religious traditions of narrative and ritual to generate their bat narrative in the Gzi brjid, although elements from that work itself have probably been refracted back into certain local traditions. Perhaps the most telling difference of all among the different bat stories is the main goal they serve in context. The Gzi brjid version is mere soteriological window-dressing swallowed up within a lengthy and turgid hagiographical project, while in rites performed in the cult and the Naxi dtô-mbà tradition the messenger and trickster bat’s activity is all part of obtaining male and female procreative powers and revitalisation for human descent groups (ch. 17). Any reference whatsoever to fertility or life powers is completely absent from the Gzi brjid depiction of the messenger bat. This is precisely the type of redactional excision one would expect from the institutional and ethical character of a fourteenth century

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g.Yung-drung Bon milieu featuring celibate male renunciation at the centre of a salvation religion.

4.5 Bat Narrative Variations Still other versions of bat stories circulating within the cult include elements cognate with a whole range of local traditions of narratives and rites along the extended eastern Himalayas. Another version of the Me rabs found in Kurtö replaces the bat with a figure called ‘Friend White Bird’ (Grogs-po Bya-dkar), a clever trickster who aids the three daughters by hiding salt under his wing (i.e., armpit) and using it to blind the Srin-po while stealing their fire to aid his escape. In a version of the same rabs from Kheng Buli, the alternative figure who acts this way is called ‘White Phya Who is a Bird Creature’ (Sems-can Bya’i Phya-dkar) and ‘Friend of the Bat, White Phya’ (Ang-gi Rog-po Phyadkar).77 The word ang here (elsewhere ung) also means ‘bat’ in some East Bodish languages, but one which has virtually fallen out of colloquial use. In bon shaman manuscripts from Tawang, origin myths present the ‘primordial bird’ (bya cig) named ‘White Bat-bird’ (Ung-bya dKar-mo).78 In these names, Phya is the title of the Srid-pa’i lha deities used in Kurtö and describes the mobile vitality principle (phya), the same as Pla/pla does further east across to Tawang, while the white bird is always a sign of presence of or embodiment of the Phya deities who have descended into the world. The ‘white’ description here is much more than the symbolic colour of the lha and their life powers which is found throughout the cult. It also represents a trace of the ancestral background of the messenger bat motif that is only found in two regions, within the distribution zone of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and in the ritual texts of the Naxi dtômbà. Most Naxi representations of this f lying messenger are of the white-bodied bat,79 and as we saw above this bat’s name, Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr, descriptively encodes the Naxi word ‘white’ (p’èr) as it does in the cult. In fact, all beings – bats, birds, horses, sheep and the lha themselves – who transit between earth and sky and who are associated with revitalisation are white in both Naxi and the cult’s myths and rites.80 Here we find an older continuity with the symbolic value of the bat in Chinese culture, where it has been and

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remains a general and widely used symbol of both good luck and long life. White-bodied bats also occur in certain Taoist legends. In that context, they are referred to as “immortal mice” and represent longevity,81 while the white-bodied bat is a symbol featuring prominently in longevity rites performed by the Naxi (pls. 10, 18). In the variants of the same Me rabs version from the Ura and Tang valleys in Bumthang, this white bird/bat is replaced by yet another analogous f lying trickster named Ang-gi Rogs-po Cha-ga-ra or Ang-gi Mes-pho Cha-ga-ra, names we might interpret as ‘Friend of the Bat, Grasshopper’, and ‘Paternal Ancestor of the Bat, Grasshopper’, respectively.82 This flying insect substitute for the bat displays full trickster credentials as well. When he assists the three daughters to steal fire from the Srin-po, he does so by cleverly posing as the ‘maternal uncle’ (zhang po) of the demons since in local social systems the zhang po is a kin relation of high status and must be accorded deference. 83 In Bumthang, this creature is in fact locally regarded as a type of locust or large grasshopper called jouli in Bumthap dialects. The word cha ga ra here is a variant of Classical Tibetan cha ga pa or ‘grasshopper’ (cf. Khengkha chakala), and all represent close phonetic cognates of the classical phya dkar and bya dkar. Thus, across all the Me rabs versions just cited there is a semantic transition between deities, birds/bats and large f lying insects. The linguistic and identity transition here represents another occurring in myths found in shamanic tradition-complexes along the extended eastern Himalayas. From central Bhutan westwards the competent, clever or trickster type figure who is a flying creature is frequently an insect or spider rather than a bird or bat. A range of locust, grasshopper and cricket characters that act as go-betweens and messengers, populate the myths of highland peoples speaking Tibeto-Burman languages west of Bhutan. Among the Lepcha of Sikkim, locusts, grasshoppers and crickets are the messengers and helpers of Nazongngyu, the ancestral mother goddess. In one Lepcha myth, grasshoppers appear as ambiguous and tricky characters who try to dupe their own mother by stealing from her.84 For the Thulung Rai of east Nepal it is Cetla, a grasshopper and one of the twelve officiants who appear after the

creation, who has the role of diviner and priest with superior knowledge of reality.85 He thus resembles the messenger bat sGam-chen Pha-wang, who always has more information of the unseen and unheard than others do, as well as the Naxi bat Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr whose task it is to bring divinatory knowledge from heaven down to earth. In a Gurung/Tamu pe da lu da narrative from western central Nepal, we meet the equivalent of the ‘friend of the bat’ and ‘white bird friend’ from the cult. He takes the form of a messenger or go-between named ‘friend spider’ who must cover a nine-day journey to fetch a priest to perform divination for a rite of soul retrieval.86 Throughout my research region of east Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, the spider is the go-between and carrier of a patient’s soul in such retrieval rites. In some areas, appearance of a white spider in the house is taken to be a portent of an impeding visit by someone positive, that is, as an advance manifestation of the visitor’s soul at the destination.87 Still further west in Nepal, in a northern Magar myth of origin, a locust is accidentally shot with an arrow and killed by his incestuous granddaughter during the primordial hunt, and she then dies a bad death due to the locust’s curse. When her body is cremated for the funeral, the locust takes a fire flint out from under his armpit and lights the pyre with it. 88 Thus, like the ‘Paternal Ancestor of the Bat, Grasshopper’ in the Bumthang Me rabs who is locally regarded as a locust and who takes salt out from his armpit (or ‘wingpit’) to control the theft of fire, the Magar locust is the master of fire whose control device is kept under his armpit, or in this case wing. The Lepcha or Rong version of the same story from Sikkim nearby to the west of Bhutan has the clever insect thief, who resembles a grasshopper that can fly, and who steals the requisites for fire, keep the flint and tinder “up its backside”.89 In all these examples – and many more could be cited here besides – we are looking at an east-west continuum of smaller-sized flying creatures and insects (including spiders) embedded within or associated with localised Himalayan shaman tradition complexes, and in which they represent the same set of symbolic values or functions. They are frequently held to be the bearer or manifestation of the ‘soul’ or human mobile vitality principle. For example, further west along the continuum Martin Gaenszle

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described a Rai soul concept named lawa thus, “This is a small, potentially evanescent roving substance, which is compared to a mosquito, a butterf ly or a bee [and] is the most self-willed of the ‘souls’.”90 Among the highland societies speaking Tani languages not too far east of the Monyul Corridor, the soul can often manifest as an insect or a bat. When nyibu shamans in such societies call the souls of persons who are regarded as enemies or transgressors they appear as insects, and when he ritually kills them, “[T]he soul turns into an insect called Takom (Grass Hopper)”, while in rites for protecting the lives of his clients he must implore their souls “[N]ot to leave the house in the form of birds, bats and insects.” 91 At the other end of the Himalayan highland continuum, the mobile ‘soul’ is represented by Naxi dtô-mbà using a graphic sign identical to a flying insect (pl. 21). The premodern Qiang rites to retrieve the lost soul of a patient feature the return of the soul in the form of an insect, in exactly the same manner as the equivalent type of rites performed within my research region among speakers of East Bodish languages.92 Smaller-sized flying creatures and insects are also often equated to the shaman or other ritual specialists, for whom they sometimes act as an auxiliary being, which itself in the case of the bon shaman can fly to meet the life-giving deities of the sky when undertaking a verbal ritual journey (see ch. 7). Other rites within the wider scope of the bon shaman or very similar ritual specialists also employ flying insects such as bees for auxiliary beings,93 and they appear as auxiliaries of the sky

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é Plate 21. An insect-like Naxi pictograph (see central column) used by dtô-mbà to represent the mobile ‘soul’ (ò), from a Ssû gv` ch’óu gv` ddû mùn manuscript.

deities, too.94 There seems no doubt the messenger bat is yet another rich expression of this old, extended eastern Himalayan set of concepts maintained, often in the hands of shamans, within a specific continuum of highland Tibeto-Burman ethnolinguistic heritage. When considering the messenger bat sGam-chen Pha-wang in terms of the typical folkloristic features of the trickster, interest in or association with sexuality is also a part of his profile, although one often expressed via his eloquence. Within the cult, such references always occur in the other main narrative type featuring the bat as an initiator, namely those rabs chants designated as Lha zhu and Lha rgyud and already described in previous chapters. A more specific version of these narratives is the Sgam chen pha wang rabs, which just focusses upon the bat’s role by explaining the origins of Srid-pa’i lha and how they were first invited down to earth by the bat to solve a human crisis. The oral Chochangacha versions of the Lha zhu or Sgam chen pha wang rabs I collected from ritual specialists around Saleng Gewog, in the mid-lower region of the Kuri Chu valley system, all contain an episode in which sGam-chen Pha-wang employs provocative verbal references to sexuality. They also provide

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interesting examples of how disjuncture within the transmission of antecedent narratives between generations of bon shamans can lead to innovation in the texts. In a version of the Lha zhu narrated by the Saleng bon po, the bat arrives at the top of the sky to invite the Srid-pa’i lha to descend to earth. However, the lha parents refuse the bat’s request and state that none of their four sons and four daughters may descend to earth. Rebuffed, the bat responds as follows: Gamchen Phawang proposed, “If you do not agree, then dice must be cast.” So the four sons of the lha sat in a circle and cast the dice, turn by turn. The first son rolled three times six totalling eighteen, and Gamchen Phawang said he would be appointed as the lha Tsangtsang Dorji of Tibet [Bod]. The next son rolled three times five totalling fifteen, and Gamchen Phawang said he would be appointed as the lha Brongpo Ja’i Janak.95 The next son rolled three times four totalling twelve, and Gamchen Phawang said he would be appointed as the lha Tshelha Karmo Kheng. The youngest son rolled three times three totalling nine, the losing score, and Gamchen Phawang said he would be appointed as the lha named Guruzhe. Guruzhe replied, “I won’t go down to the world of humans because they have birth and death pollution, and there are diseases and famine among the people.” So Gam-chen Pha-wang reassured him, “There is a method to cleanse birth and death pollution. There is a method to eliminate disease and famine.” Just then, all the male and female lha blocked the path on which Gamchen Phawang was about to depart back to earth with Guruzhe. So Gamchen Phawang called out in the language of the lha, “Ba dab do! Ba dab do!” meaning, “The old woman is fucking!” Then, “Mong zir zir!” meaning, “Pubic hairs are sticking out!” And finally, “Wayo! Wayo!” meaning, “Fuck! Fuck!”96 At this, all the lha turned their heads away in some embarrassment, and while their gaze was averted Gamchen Phawang slipped past them with Guruzhe through a gap and took the lha down to earth. This happened at the beginning of the world. Still during

our festivals, when Guruzhe descends to earth, men shout, “Wayo! Wayo!” and “Ba dab do!” to acknowledge that the lha Guruzhe has arrived, in remembrance of what happened that very first time.97 The reluctance of the lha, and their citing human calamities as grounds for not descending, are old motifs found in thirteenth century Tibetan narratives of the progenitor emperor, while the bat’s clever response represents a local innovation. Another similar oral Chocha-ngacha version of the same narrative was recorded at nearby Tsamang by Bhutanese researcher Ugyen Pelgen. In the crucial part of this Tsamang variant, we find: The youngest [son] Zhel gsung Guru zhel [= Gurzhe], rolled [the dice] three threes and had no choice but to come down to earth. A day was fixed for his descent. The king [of the lha] sent his three sons and a retinue of gods to accompany his youngest son to earth. On the way the demi gods and devils heard of the descent. They were so surprised to see that a small creature like Bya rtsi sTon pa sgom chen [i.e., Gamchen Pha-wang] was able to persuade God to send his son to earth. The demi gods and devils watched the whole retinue with surprise and laughed at them. Bya rtsi sTon pa sgom chen felt annoyed and wanted the lesser gods and devils to go away. He hit upon a plan and removed his undergarments. The demi gods and the devils, seeing him naked with his penis dangling, cursed him and went away in utter shame and disgrace leaving the entourage in peace.98 References to sexuality in both the Saleng and Tsamang oral versions of the narrative represent obvious deviations from, and embellishments of, the same narrative found recorded in many written versions. The background to these innovations is that local informants report the loss of original written rabs manuscripts at both Saleng and Tsamang within the last few generations only.99 While these recent versions also relate to a common oral transmission, respective narrators at each site have developed innovations in different directions. The Tsamang variant is not only a somewhat less sophisticated one but also exhibits a significant change in

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the rabs compared with that from Saleng. The central trope of the bat being able to cleverly manipulate the great Sridpa’i lha using his superior verbal skills, which occurs in all the written and oral rabs throughout the entire region, has now been completely displaced from the Tsamang version. Rather, we find a different trope in which the lesser spirits below the sky world are shamed into some form of submission by a crude act of exposure. We never find this narrative trope related to exposed genitalia in Srid-pa’i lha narratives, but we know well where it comes from. It occurs widely repeated in many folk traditions concerning the subjugation or dispatch of troublesome local spirits, which are told in communities throughout eastern Bhutan and the Monyul Corridor. In context, the trope of exposed genitalia often carries a prudish Buddhist moral overtone not present within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For example, it is cited as the explanation for the performers’ nudity in the naked mimic performance known as kengpa, but only for the form of kengpa directly associated with the Buddhist chos skor rites in a village, and particularly when Buddhist ritual specialists themselves give explanations for the origins and meaning of the kengpa.100 More generally, this example from Tsamang reveals how quickly variations can be generated in a relatively short period of time in response to a disjuncture of transmission. Beyond variation of sGam-chen Pha-wang motifs within the cult, I have drawn specific attention to the Naxi messenger bat as a highly cognate example of trans-regional variations in this same tradition. There are yet other bat figures appearing in the ritual chants of ‘bon’-identified autonomous ritual specialists further afield. An interesting example occurs in the ritual texts of the le’u pa specialists of Tewo in northwestern Gansu. 101 Like the bon shaman and the dtô-mbà among the Naxi, le’u pa maintain their local ritual tradition of rites for mundane goals right at the furthest margins of the Tibetan Plateau, and at a location that, if one drew a line north from the Qiang territories in the Min Shan ranges, one would reach in relatively short order. In one type of le’u pa text, the ‘wise bat’ (sgam po pha wang) appears only in brief excerpts as a minor auxiliary figure who knows what to do in terms of procedure and can accomplish basic tasks like searches.102 In another text dedicated entirely to the ‘capable

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bat’ (pha wang rgod po),103 we find a very strong contrast with sGam-chen Pha-wang and the Naxi messenger bat. The capable bat is overwhelmingly apotropaic in character, and the bulk of the text sets out long lists of the negativities he can ‘avert’ (zlog), and the bad consequences for other beings of him not doing so. Prominent here is a variation of the discourse between a superior protagonist – King Kongtse – and the bat concerning characteristics of the creature’s body found in all other bat narratives. Yet, its focus is the creature’s various capacities for religious salvation – guidance out of the lower realms, removal of suffering, method and wisdom, endurance of established truth – and powers of suppression and destruction. In contrast to these obviously very religious features, the main benefits of worshipping the creature include every kind of worldly advantage a farmer or nomad could wish for. While the capable bat is eloquent and competent, his messenger role is now vestigial, featuring in just two sentences of the approximately 150 comprising the text, as if it survives as a relic of some earlier transmission of the narrative containing that trope. The trickster and culture hero dimensions of the widespread eastern Himalayan messenger bat are completely absent in the capable bat, and the text provides no origin narrative (rabs) that explains how a rite first came about. The image of the capable bat is almost entirely that of the powerful religious protector beings we typically find within g.Yung-drung Bon or Tibetan Buddhism, while the key instruction of the text is praising and worshipping him in the form of bstod and mchod texts from both of those religions. The capable bat is clearly no longer an auxiliary being in this context, for he is superior to the bon po and even literally hailed as the ‘judge of the world’. Yet, the capable bat fits completely into what we know of the le’u pa tradition. Their rites are mainly focussed upon apotropaic functions, and they draw upon the Gnyan ’bum collection which at some stage was incorporated into the g.Yung-drung Bon canon, but no doubt was originally adapted from the context of autonomous ritual specialists concerned purely with rites for mundane goals. The capable bat reveals the potentially wide scope for flexible and innovative traditions of autonomous ritual specialists to adapt this creature.

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é Plate 22. Bon shamans wearing the cape-like plapé or plakar jacket featuring triangular gusset ‘wings’, embroidered ‘feet’, and appliqué ‘body’ representing the bat, Lawa, 2012.

è Figure 3. The mbì-boâ-p’èr section of the múen-t’ù ritual staff of a Naxi dtô-mbà.

4.6 The Bat and the Shaman

their flared jackets often take the form of a cape resembling the spreading of a bat’s wings (pl. 23). These jackets also feature small, embroidered shapes representing the clawed feet of the bat, and coloured, appliqué panels to represent his richly adorned body according to the myths (pl. 22).

As in other Himalayan shamanic tradition-complexes, the bon shaman whose techniques include undertaking a ‘soul journey’, and who has a relationship with bird-like auxiliaries, is also assimilated to a bird, although in this case it is the bat as a classificatory ‘bird’. This is reflected in both the shaman’s costume, and sometimes in his ritual behaviour. In Srid-pa’i lha worship communities of the Khoma Chu and Kurtö valleys, the jackets of both bon shamans and those with hereditary sub-shaman roles have triangular gussets sewn into the lower parts of the back panel of their jackets to broaden the hem line in emulation of the spread of the bat’s wings (pl. 22).104 When they engage in movement performances using certain rapid turning steps or jumps,

On certain old cloaks still in use by some senior bon shamans at a few sites in the Mon-yul Corridor, the journey of the messenger bat up through the levels of the sky world is found embroidered upon the rear in a subtle, stylised manner (pls. 24, 25). The Naxi dtô-mbà, who maintain myths and rites involving the messenger bat, also have a material culture reference to it in their ritual paraphernalia. For certain rites, the dtômbà uses a ritual staff called múen-t’ù, the top or functional

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ï Plate 23. Ritual specialist performing in the flared, cape-like plapé or plakar jacket, Lawa, 2012.

é Plate 24. Cloak of a bon po depicting the messenger bat’s vertical journey, Yewang, 2011.

î Plate 25. Detail depicting the messenger bat’s vertical journey on the cloak of the bon po, Yewang, 2011.

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handle of which is of carved wood while the lower part is a disposable bamboo cane or wooden pole which is broken during funeral rites. The iconography of the top of the múen-t’ù (fig. 3) has certain similarities with both the ritual staffs and their material analogues or derivatives, the wooden ritual dagger/stake and the drum handle, 105 used by a variety of Himalayan shamans as well as with the phyag shing sceptre featuring in g.Yung-drung Bon. However, one of its unique characteristics is the attachment of a small bat replica made of copper. The top of the múen-t’ù is actually termed mbì-boâ-p’èr in Naxi, which Joseph Rock explained as “The word bi means to fly and boa-p’er refers to the bat who is known in Na-khi literature as Ha-yi-dzi-boap’er”. 106 Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr is the ‘white’ (p’èr) messenger bat featuring in various Naxi ritual antecedent narratives, and he is the exact parallel of sGam-chen Pha-wang in Sridpa’i lha worship. The premodern Naxi ‘bat staff ’ can certainly be regarded as a parallel to wooden staffs widely featured in the iconography of gshen priests according to older Tibetan descriptions, but also as the functional equivalent of very similar ritual staffs found in use by shamans right throughout the extended eastern Himalayas and beyond whom ethnographers identify as shamans. Examples of other wooden ritual staffs with carved upper parts used by Himalayan ritual specialist also feature birds and horses, both animals closely related to shaman journeys to the sky world and thus analogues of the bat.107 During certain stages of Srid-pa’i lha festivals, ritual specialists also specifically mimic the bat in their movements, or dramatically act out the narrative of sGam-chen Phawang’s antics (ch. 9). Concerning mimicking the bat, a good example of this occurs in the biannual Srid-pa’i lha festival at Ney village in Kurtö. The main day of the Ney Pcha festival is staged in a sacred grove enclosing a small, level area of open land known as Pho-brang dog-sa above Ney village. At one end of this clearing stand several tall and imposing old cedar trees closely associated with the Pcha (i.e., Srid-pa’i lha) ancestral deities when they are present for the festival, and hence called pcha shing (= lha shing elsewhere). Beneath these trees is a small stone shrine (pho brang), alongside which another temporary tent or wigwam-like structure

called the zhekhang (written zhal khang) ideally made with eight long, sturdy Artemisia and thin pine branches draped with white clothes is also erected for housing the deities and special stones which embody their vitality principles. It is here that the pcha mi – as the local bon shaman is called – and his sub-shaman colleagues perform most of their rites during the festival, while the assembled public sit about forty metres away in their own area on the opposite side of the clearing. A wooden “Pcha bridge” (pcha zam) about thirty metres in length connects these two areas. This bridge was constructed from a series of newly cut tree trunks forming wooden posts about two metres high and erected in a straight line, with more three metre long wooden posts resting atop them to form the horizontal bridge proper. All the wooden components of this structure are ninefold, and while called ‘bridge’ it is in fact a large version of the nine-shelf altar described in various rabs texts from the same area (see ch. 13). The end of this bridge is physically connected to the pchami by a rope, one end of which is tied to the final wooden post of the bridge, and the other around the waist of the specialist. When the Srid-pa’i lha deities arrive and depart, they do so along this bridge-cum-altar structure, almost as if it were a type of runway for landing and take-off. The bridge structure is thus believed to be in direct contact with the lha and their life powers. Accordingly, a series of nine carved wooden phalluses are tied on to the bridge crossbeams, and hang down at intervals. These phalluses become charged up with the procreative powers of the Srid-pa’i lha. During the festival, any childless couples wishing to receive the deities’ fertility must approach the pchami at the pho brang by walking from the public area along a counterclockwise (bon skor) path to the right of the bridge. The couple first prostrate to the pchami and offer him a white felicitation scarf. He takes one of the charged phalluses, and gives it to the couple together with the white scarf, thus transferring procreative powers to them. As the couple are about to return to the public area, the pchami chants the Sgam chen pha wang rabs. The female partner in the couple must then carry the phallus upon her back hung within the scarf over her shoulders, as if she were carrying her own baby in a shawl upon the back according to the traditional village practice. As the couple depart,

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one of the pchami’s assistants wearing the flared bat-jacket (pls. 22, 23) moves around them in circles, mimicking the spreading of a f lying bat’s wings as if to cover and shield them from view, and he continues to do so until the couple have walked back and are safely seated once again in the public area. This is interpreted as the bat protecting the couple and their phallus charged with fertility from forces of negativity or jealousy that may neutralise or steal the powers bestowed upon them.

4.7 Origins of Ya-ngal the Protector In the Srid-pa’i lha cult, A’o or ‘elder brother’ Ya-ngal Gyim-kong is the initiator of sel ‘elimination’ rites up the vertical cosmic axis. According to g.Yung-drung Bon sources, there are twelve main types of sel in a staggering 120 variations for a very wide range of purposes. 108 In stark contrast to this religious hyperbole, our data from eastern Himalayan shamans preserves only a single form of sel rites with one purpose. This is the same single purpose reflected in the earliest sources we have, which date to around the eleventh century. After the Lha zhu rite has been initiated by the messenger bat in order for the lha to descend, Ya-ngal enters the ritual sequence when he is called upon to solve the problem of obstacles and pollution for the lha descending down to the site of worship. The sel he initiates is most often used to facilitate arrival of the group of deities led by the pho lha, namely those lha who are most relevant as ancestors for members of local agnatic groupings or clans. The rites are formally known as lha sel lha mchod, or sel mchod in abbreviated form, describing a two-stage ritual process of purifications followed by offerings. Parallel with the case of the messenger bat, Ya-ngal Gyimkong first appears in his actual role within the ritual antecedent narratives in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs collection recorded in the dGa’-thang manuscripts. They provide the earliest confirmation of his profile as a ritual manager of safe cosmic transits up and down the vertical axis. Yangal appears in five different rnel dri narratives109 as one of various specialists invited to deal with crises surrounding

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posthumous appearances of dri in the wake of culturally problematic deaths. Each narrative is set in a different, ancient Tibetan minor kingdom. For instance, in the version set in the land of sKyi-ro, Ya-ngal’s ritual activity is described as follows: The sKyi gshen, rGya-ngar, Invited elder brother Ya-ngal From Ser-’ga of Brag-mar-gling [in] Ngas-po. Three days he did purification (bsangs). Three nights he laid down [obstructions] (bgyer).110 Three mornings he used ablutions (bshal). He purified the lha upwards. He suppressed the sri downwards. He opened the way for the coming of the lha. He shone a bright light for the lord. The rnel dri was subdued.111 In all appearances of Ya-ngal in these ancient texts, he is the direct agent of verbs for purification and ablution, and he explicitly deploys his rites up the vertical cosmic axis. This conforms exactly to his role in the Sel rabs used for Srid-pa’i lha worship. In another rnel dri rite analysed in detail in chapter 15, Ya-ngal performs a complex ransom (blus) rite up the cosmic axis through a series of ‘doors’ and across a sequence of ‘doorsills’, and does so together with various purificatory rites. 112 In yet another of these stories set in the land of lHo-ga Lang-grug, where Ya-ngal features as one of a number of ritual specialists, some of the rites performed involve the ‘nine father trees of the sunny slopes, and the nine mother trees of the shady slopes’. This same wording occurs also in Old Tibetan documents, 113 as well as when Ya-ngal is mentioned in the Sel rabs of the Srid-pa’i lha cult where these sets of nine tree species are those which can especially purify the lha. The rites within the Sel rabs include forms of fumigation using fragrant smoke (spos, bsangs or dud sel), lustration with waters from special sources (tshan), ablution with pure waters (khrus and bshal), elimination of negative hindrances (sel) employing types of auxiliary beings, and finally a special purification for the four seasons of the year which involves bird calls (nam zla dus bzhi or dus bzhi lha mchod). At least four of these techniques (bsangs, tshan, khrus and bshal)

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are mentioned in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs text, although the category term sel itself is not. Moreover, when basic purificatory rites such as khrus and tshan are performed in the cult, they are done using multiple types of water taken from different sources, and this is also how these techniques are described in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs narratives.114 Given the overall context in which the term sel later appears within the cult and in other myths associated with Ya-ngal, it is more or less certain to be derived from pre-eleventh century death rites. We saw this was the original case with the transmission of ‘bad news’ associated with birds and bats in the same older context. In the Old Tibetan document PT 1194, the wings of a vulture are used to convey ‘bad news’ of death and to prepare a path (lam) into the sky for a psychopomp animal by having various items attached to them. One of these ritual steps states, ‘When a god kad bya rjungs (?) is fixed to the wing, the sky portal is opened. The door of the clouds is cleared (seld)’, while the same formulation in PT 1134 end with verb form sald and that in IOL Tib J 740 with bsal.115 The same wording in such sentences is reused verbatim in later myths to describe commencement of descent from the sky by the progenitor lha emperor, but with the final verb written bsal.116 This is one of many indicators that later Classical Tibetan myths of gNya’-khri bTsanpo are derived from older rites based upon ritual journeys such as are found in death rites. In both the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript from dGa’-thang and in ritual texts involving Ya-ngal used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the same wording also occurs to describe a step in purification rites conducted up the vertical cosmic axis to open a path for defiled sky lha. Yet, in both cases, it occurs together with the verb bsang[s] ‘purify’ instead of seld/bsal, and we find bsang[s] and sel somewhat synonymous in the ritual texts of the cult. In some Tibetan dialects, the verb sel ba is used to describe ‘making a path or road’.117 In concert with the first two contexts, some lexicons define the irregular verb form bsel ba as ‘to act as protective escort on a path which has dangers’.118 The sel rites featuring Ya-ngal in the cult often implore the lha to ‘come [down for worship] grasping the protective rMu cord’ (bsel gyi rmu thag ’dzin du byon) with this form of the verb.

4.8 Title and Name The accounts of Ya-ngal in the dGa’-thang manuscripts offer crucial evidence for ascertaining the origins of the rabs material circulating in the present-day cult of Srid-pa’i lha. For one, the full title and name in both sets of sources are identical with the dGa’-thang record of Ya-ngal, our oldest known source so far. Secondly, the site of discovery of these early manuscripts is only some fifty kilometres up a continuous, major river valley system due north of the location where the local Sel rabs featuring Ya-ngal were still in use at the time of my field research (map 5). In fact, the most concentrated occurrence of sites where Sel rabs are found in bon shaman manuscripts is in closest proximity to the location where the dGa’-thang manuscripts were discovered at gTam-shul ( ‘Tamshul’ on map 5). Furthermore, in the unique Bshad mdzod account of g.Yu-rung Bon written during the 1400s in the region of Gru-shul (‘Drushul’ on map 5), which lies immediately between gTam-shul and those north-east Bhutanese valleys where the Sel rabs is most commonly found, there is explicit mention of the Sel rabs concerning Ya-ngal along with his two brothers (see below).119 This material will be discussed in context again in chapter 14. It appears absolutely certain that the earlier origins and spread of the Ya-ngal Sel rabs cycle were from this localised region of southernmost Central Tibet, if not from gTam-shul itself. In some Sel rabs passages Ya-ngal has the title pha. This title is rather common in other references to gshen and bon. Its meaning remains uncertain, and may have evolved over time with different significations in various contexts. Pha can literally mean ‘father’ to define such figures as ritual specialists within a hereditary lineage. Yet, in many contexts pha (sometimes pa or pha ba) often serves as a standalone term for a type of ritual specialist, and, as discussed in chapter 14, its possible origins may reflect something other or more than a kinship term. A pha for Ya-ngal may also be related to the Old Tibetan paternal or patron title yab ngal, which should be considered as one potential source of the Classical Tibetan name or title Ya-ngal. 120 The more common and interesting title for Ya-ngal is A bo or A’o meaning ‘elder brother’, the origins and meaning of which I discussed

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Sel rabs Sites

T

Srid-pa’i lha cult site Sel rabs and Ya-ngal records

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Tamshul

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Yarlha Shampo

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in relation to ’O-de Gung-rgyal above. This specific title for Ya-ngal is unique to both the dGa’-thang manuscripts and the Srid-pa’i lha rabs, and again demonstrates continuities between them. In the latter sources, Ya-ngal is indeed presented as the ‘elder brother’ (phu bo) of three, as we will soon see. The second unique reference common to both Srid-pa’i lha rabs and the dGa’-thang manuscripts is Gyim in the full form of the name Ya-ngal Gyim-kong. In the cult narratives defining Ya-ngal, a version of which is presented below, Gyim is the descent group identity of his mother, ’O-lo, the Lady (bza’) of Gyim, while he himself is described as ‘the maternal uncle [who] is the nephew of Gyim’, with the land

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é Map 5. Srid-pa’i lha worship communities using the Sel rabs featuring Ya-ngal Gyim-kong in relation to southernmost Central Tibet.

of Gyim-yul Gyim-stod being his origin place. Gyim or Gyim-po is an ancient descent group name occurring in Old Tibetan sources. This includes an Old Tibetan rock inscription, which is perhaps the most significant document. Hugh Richardson considered that Gyim reference as having possible connections with eastern Tibet.121 At the very beginning of the Old Tibetan Chronicle, the female Gyim descent group member, Gyim Pang-ma’, the Lady of Dags, is introduced as one of the ‘ancient relatives of the four directions’ in the royal genealogy.122 The mythical protagonist named

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Gyim-po Nyag-cig also features in an Old Tibetan narrative is of interest due to the function of Ya-ngal in later ritual texts.123 The versions of the Sel rabs used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult in fact provide an account of the Gyim origins of A-bo/A’o Yangal Gyim-kong, together with an etymology of each element in his title and name. 124 An example is given below. The full myth of Ya-ngal embedded in various local Sel rabs used in the cult follows the typical motif complex of ‘crisis and crisis management’ found in Old Tibetan and later ‘bon’-identified myths. The crisis in this case is the origins of pollution due to improper human behaviour, how this results in man’s loss of contact with his protective deities, and the subsequent arising of illness and disease. The crisis management becomes known via divination, entails the invitation of properly qualified ritual specialists, and their introduction of all the sel rites to purify the world and remove obstructions on the path between humans and their lha. The myth has a very long and repetitive preamble (see appx. M), which I will briefly summarise before examining the account of Ya-ngal. The Four Groups of Little Humans appear in the world as lords, with the ‘black-headed ones’ as their subjects. The Four Groups of Little Humans dwell inside a stronghold called sMra-mkhar lDem-pa in the sMra land, Thang-brgyad. Some human beings act in a barbaric manner due to ignorance and confusion. Since they do not use fire and water properly, they produce noxious odours from the hearth. Through improper use of sword and spear, they commit murder. Due to ignorance about sexual relations, defilements and impurities arise. Due to their inability to treat birth and death properly, pollution from these events is produced, and so on. All these outcomes are like poison for the lha and the gsas above who are the deities that can protect and aid humans. Thus repelled, these deities retreat up to their strongholds made of precious substances and metals in the sky, and are inaccessible to humans. Calamity reigns everywhere. Nineteen types of maladies afflict the lha in the lha land Gung-thang, while in the land of human beings, Kyi-mthing, the people are struck by nine illnesses, and their livestock suffer from nine kinds of disease. The deities cannot descend from the sky to restore a balance. Messengers are sent up to the sky to consult the

celestial diviners, and Ya-ngal and his two younger brothers – who in this version are named tshan bon Thor-cog and ’gal bon Kha-nag – are identified as the initiators who can resolve the crisis. At this point in the Sel rabs, Ya-ngal himself is introduced as the crisis-managing initiator: [33b...] There was no man who was skilled in performing the

gto rites. For the benefit of sentient beings Two servants, those of the lha and the gsas, were dispatched [to the sky]. [34a] In the country up above the sky, High atop the sky, They came into the presence of the earth diviner, lDing-nga lDing-cung, And the [sky] diviner, sGong-nga sGong-cung. Having studied the divination (mo) and prognosis (phya) for them, The diviner sGong-nga sGong-cung said, “Here [among the lha] there is no error at all, The error is with the Four Groups of Little Humans themselves. Through the actions of their mouths, they engage in anger and slander. Through the actions of their hands, they commit fratricide and malpractice. Through the actions of their bodies, they produce defilements and filth. Here there is nothing at all we can do to help. Invite A’o Ya-ngal, And tell him, ‘Pronounce a great elimination (sel chen) [rite]!’ Invite tshan bon Thor-cog, And tell him, ‘Use lustrations (tshan) and ablutions with water (khrus chu)!’ [34b] Invite ’gal bon Kha-nag, And tell him, ‘Cast down a great anointing (yugs chen)125 [rite] onto the earth!’” The two servants, those of the lha and the gsas, Went to search for A’o Ya-ngal. In the land of Gyim-yul Gyim-stod, There were the father ston pa gShen-rab, and The mother, ’O-lo Lady of Gyim, both.

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The pair procreated, and so produced A’o Ya-ngal, who declared, “I am the elder brother A’o Ya-ngal. After me is tshan bon Thor-cog. The youngest of us is ’gal bon Kha-nag. First, there is the part of the man called A.126 As for A, it is the body of non-arising Bon. Then, there is the part of the man called ’O. All the doors of Bon are chanted by way of ’O. [35a] Then, there is the part of the man called Ya. That Ya rides upon the horse of the wind. Then, there is the part of the man called Gyim. The maternal uncle is the nephew of Gyim. Then, there is the part of the man called Kong.127 Since the gto rites have not been taught [to human beings], they will come to be known from Kong.128 The cult’s version of Ya-ngal’s origins and status has much in common with narratives from the dGa’-thang manuscripts. In both, he is a human ritual specialist from a geographically or socially identifiable background, who intervenes between men and their lha in times of crisis. Some of the specific features of the cult’s narrative, such as the paired female diviners (mo ma) of sky and earth, share the same or very similar identities as those found in dGa’-thang manuscripts.129 However, the cult’s version of Ya-ngal relocates him from the Ngas-po130 area in lower ’Phan-po, Central Tibet, to Gyim which, by all accounts, is further eastwards. Ya-ngal’s associations with Gyim are of particular interest since they may lead us back to Dags, an ancient region related to the name bSe, and both latter names designate key agents of transmission and later participants in the Himalayan Srid-pa’i lha cult (see ch. 16, 18).

4.9 Ya-ngal in Tibetan Salvation Religions Different types of Ya-ngal began to appear in a variety of older myths and historiographies recorded in Classical Tibetan by religious writers or editors. It is well to outline them here to avoid confusion and conflation with the particular Ya-ngal in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its earlier origins reflected in the dGa’-thang manuscripts. In particular, it was

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g.Yung-drung Bon redactors who transformed the ancient Ya-ngal in three different ways. These new types of Ya-ngal first appear in Classical Tibetan narratives that are sometimes collectively known as Grags-pa Bon-lugs. Redactions of the myth of the progenitor emperor feature strongly in this literature, and they appear to have some of their roots in adaptations of an early myth motif found in the Old Tibetan document PT 1038. In that document, the three roles of counsellor, bon po and phyag tshang are ‘made’ (brgyis) and associated, respectively, with three pairs of social groups who appear to be early clans. The mTshe and the gCo are named as the bon po pair.131 Tibetan religious redactors then assimilated Ya-ngal to this pair. g.Yung-drung Bon texts such as the Grags pa gling grags and Bsgrags byang project Ya-ngal as a member of this trio up in the heavens, as a kind of divine royal priest, who descends from the sky with the progenitor emperor so as to protect him.132 Thus, the human Ya-ngal identified with the geographical and social world in dGa’-thang and Srid-pa’i lha cult narratives undergoes his first transformation. The second fate bestowed upon Ya-ngal by the redactors of orthodox g.Yung-drung Bon religious texts was demotion from his original sphere of ritual activity upwards into the sky, to a role completely in the underground realm, where he becomes just one small part of a grand, totalising scheme. The Gzer mig and some canonical texts contain lists of thirty-three bon ritual experts who are able to control thirty-three malevolent g.yen spirits dwelling within a three-tiered cosmos termed g.yen khams. The earth level of this triune cosmos has eleven spheres endowed with the corresponding number of bon and matching sa g.yen whom they subdue. The so-called sri bon Ya-ngal holds sway in the sixth sphere called sri khams, in charge of the sri demons of the underworld.133 Once again, echoes of the old Ya-ngal who performs rites for mundane goals have been built upon and modified here. The third type of religious claim about Ya-ngal concerns social identity. The A bo and pha Ya-ngal Gyim-kong name in both dGa’-thang narratives and the rabs of bon shamans designates one specific and apparently ancient individual.134 There is no evidence that Ya-ngal is intended to signify a

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clan or lineage name in any of the sources mentioned so far. Among the scores of old and recent clan names we know of from the research area and its environs, Ya-ngal or anything close to it never occurs. It seems this old name or title was claimed at some point for a hereditary g.Yung-drung Bon lineage. The name of that clan is frequently written Yang, Yang-ngal or Yang-ston, and they appear to have come from gTsang, and eventually migrated west to Glo (Mustang) and then Dol-po in present-day northern Nepal. The earliest dateable reference we have to such a lineage from gTsang is from the fifteenth century Deb ther sngon po, 135 while the chief source which connects the Ya-ngal known from Grags-pa Bon-lugs narratives with the actual Yang, Yang-ngal or Yang-ston clan settled in northern Nepal is the Rgyal gshen ya ngal bka’ rgyud kyi gdung rabs, an elaborate nineteenth century g.Yung-drung Bon reworking of a wide variety of earlier myths and later genealogies.136 In many ways, the different transformations – into divine priests from the sky, marshals of underworld spirits, and human clan identity – applied to Ya-ngal at the hands of g.Yung-drung Bon agents parallel those we know were also applied to the gShen-rab Myi-bo name first appearing in Old Tibetan narratives to designate just one ritual specialist of mundane rites among many others.

4.10 The Younger Brothers In the Srid-pa’i lha cult, Ya-ngal has two younger brothers (Ya-ngal mched gsum), the tshan bon Thod-dkar-lcog and thab bon Me-’bran, although there are several variations of these names. In different rabs, we read tshan bon Thor-cog or mTho-spyod, while thab bon Me-[’]bran is also often named ’gal bon (or: mgal bon) Kha-nag. The earliest record of this trio of gshen ‘brothers’ I am aware of is in the source composed in Gru-shul during the 1400s cited above and discussed in chapter 14. Beyond the link via simple kin terms for fraternal siblings, they share nothing in common with Ya-ngal’s named identity. On the one hand, these changing and somewhat generic identities must be understood within the play of endless substitutions and creative generation of alternatives that are characteristic of the nature

of rabs as models serving a multitude of local instances. On the other hand, these characters each have their own meaningful identities within any schema of local rabs, and these cannot be overlooked or dismissed when trying to understand the relationship between myth and rite in context. A short sel invocation recorded in a bon shaman’s manuscripts stored at Gortshom in the mid-Kuri Chu valley neatly introduces the regionally recognised distinction between the three brothers as three gshen specialists who come forth as ritual agents: Ya-ngal Gyim-kong has appeared As the big, elder brother among them. Your expertise is skill in elimination rites. Your chant is sung according to the elimination rites. So, Ya-ngal, for this Gyim-kong purified path [of yours] Pronounce the great elimination rite, and come! Open the door to the lha of life! Close the door on burial of the dead! The younger brother [is] Tshan bon Thod-dkar-lcog. Your expertise is skill in lustration with scented waters. Your chant is sung for lustration rites. For this Gyim-kong purified path [of yours] Come for purification and ablution! Cleanse habituated ignorance! Wash away the defilement of conflicted emotions! The youngest of the three [brothers] Is thab bon Me-’bran. Your expertise is skill in [purifying] the hearth. Your chant is sung at the hearth. For this Gyim-kong purified path [of yours] Come to consume foul odours of things burnt on the hearth! Come to eliminate anger and disputes.137 Thus, sel is used to ‘eliminate’ two types of obstructions that hinder the lha and human relations with them. These might best be described as forms of ‘moral’ defilement derived from negative or inappropriate human behaviours. Ya-ngal’s youngest brother, here named thab bon Me-’bran but elsewhere ’gal-/mgal bon Kha-nag, specialises in purifying thab gzhob or pollution occurring in the form of noxious

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fumes from burnt and singed matter in the domestic hearth (thab), as his title and name elements all inform us.138 This latter pollution is widely noted as a grave concern in Tibetan and Himalayan ritual cultures. It grievously upsets deities dwelling in the sky and high places, that is, the lha, but also the thab lha or ‘hearth deities’ associated with the three hearth stones – or three legs of the iron cooking tripod, and three raised mounds on the clay hearth top – where they dwell. Among many populations speaking Tibeto-Burman languages throughout the extended eastern Himalayas and Tibetan Plateau, thab lha are frequently treated as ancestral beings of the kin group of the household. The hearth itself is the centre of family life within the domestic space, and a site of premodern social ranking indexed to and reflected in seating, sleeping and serving positions around it.139 Thus, the hearth is highly ambivalent as a site within the domestic microcosm, and in Sel rabs it always requires the special gshen who is Ya-ngal’s brother to deal with it. The hearth’s significance in the cult is that certain rites are performed directly at it. Unlike the youngest brother, who is only ever briefly mentioned, the middle brother has his own narrative within the Sel rabs cycle titled Tshan rabs or Lustration Narrative in abbreviated form. This describes the origin of lustration rites using special waters that have been in contact with specific wild plant species and natural environments (e.g., rocks). The lustration technique is an essential aspect of the ritual ensemble that constitutes the sel. The following example of a Tshan rabs is that used by the bon shaman at Shawa in Kurtö. While tshan is best translated in most contexts as ‘lustration’ or ‘lustral waters’, 140 in Tshan rabs it also designates those natural substances that water comes into contact with in order to become empowered as a purifying substance. For this reason I leave the term untranslated here: [26a...]

[26b]

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Elder brother tshan bon141 Thor-cog, please arise! Tshan bon Thor-cog, you are to arise in person! Hold Artemisia the excellent tshan in the right hand. Hold a vase of ambrosia in the left hand. From the mouth, recite the genealogy of tshan [titled] Coming into Being of the Nine Drops of Ambrosia Ancestors.

Tshan bon Thor-cog uttered these words, “A small boy with a topknot of turquoise Had bya ru which were perfect planted upon his head. He wore a garment of white cloth upon his body. He filled [a vase] with an ablution of pure ambrosia. He sent out pure ablution waters to the lha. He said, ‘Lha, be purified! Be Cleansed!’ He administered an ablution of the body that washes away impurities. The father and patriarch of tshan Was Ambrosia Single Drop (bDud-rtsi Thig-gcig). [The mother and matriarch of tshan]142 [27a] Was Ambrosia Turquoise Honey (bDud-rtsi g.Yu-sbrang). Ambrosia Single Drop [descended onto the snows]. The tshan of the snows, sedum (sro lo),143 sprouted [in the snows]. Ambrosia Single Drop descended onto the rocks. The tshan of the rocks, sedge (A ba),144 sprouted upon the rocks. Ambrosia Single Drop descended onto the slates. The tshan of the slates, lu gu,145 sprouted among the slates. Ambrosia Single Drop descended onto the forest. The tshan of the forest, juniper (shug pa), sprouted within the forest. Then, Ambrosia Single Drop descended onto the wetlands. The tshan of wetlands, swamp rush (’dam bu ka ra),146 came forth. Then, Ambrosia Single Drop descended onto the meadows. The tshan of the meadows, the two incense rhododendrons (ba lu and su lu),147 sprouted upon the meadows. Ambrosia Single Drop descended onto the margins. [27b] The tshan of the margins, Artemisia (mkhan pa),148 sprouted along the margins. As for Ambrosia Single Drop [himself], He sprouted as the precious tshan. That tshan is green in summer and also green in winter. Its summer green is the greenest of all.

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Its winter green is a medicinal property. Where that tshan exists, there is no water. Water must be sought, sought in the land of the lha. Water flows down from the sides of the White lHa Rock (lHa-brag dKar-po).149 That water flows down as nine drops. Hold out a white vase of conch [to collect them]. An immutable chain to adorn its mouth. An immutable garland of lotuses to seal and fasten it. [It offers] a life of immutable adamant [in] birth and death. Om gu shu de gsal ye de saa haa.”150 Thus, tshan here is simply understood as a combination of certain waters and herbaceous plants occurring in wild nature. The most important are the ‘excellent tshan’ Artemisia held by tshan bon Thor-cog himself, and the ‘precious tshan’ (rin po che’i tshan) which has no botanical identity, and that is mixed with waters coming off the primordial white lha rock. In practice, Artemisia is the central ritual plant for purification in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, while the white lha rock is one of the key mythical motifs in the cult’s primordial cosmology. Both are significant from a comparative perspective, since Artemisia and the cult of the white lha rock also occur together in the ritual culture of Naxi and Qiang along the eastern Marches of the Tibetan Plateau (see ch. 17). While use of Artemisia for fumigation rites commonly occurs in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and among both Naxi (and Moso) and Qiang,151 the Naxi ritual use of whole beds of Artemisia stalks laid down upon surfaces to purify a space and employing the plant’s twigs as wands for lustration 152 are both identical to the practices used in Srid-pa’i lha cult rites in north-eastern Bhutan. Moreover, the ritual use of Artemisia in Bhutan is associated with lha Tshangs-pa who is counted among the major Srid-pa’i lha deities in the cult, and who is said to have uniquely endowed the plant with a special potency known as rdza[b] which other living things did not gain. 153 Use of Artemisia as a purificatory fumigant is very ancient cross the wider region, being recorded in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan documents concerning death rites. 154 Phrasing in the Tshan rabs that describes the tshan progenitor bDud-rtsi Thig-gcig as ‘green in summer and also green in winter’ occurs in another

Old Tibetan document concerning death rites. There the description refers to the herbs or grass in the ‘land of the dead’ (gshin yul) Bre-ma or Brem-dang. 155 The unknown botanical identity of the ‘precious tshan’ named bDud-rtsi Thig-gcig here is highly likely Ephedra spp. (mtshe). In harmony with the description in the Tshan rabs, plants of Ephedra remain perennially green, and can grow in extremely arid conditions. The genus mtshe is closely associated with ‘rocks’ and ‘cliffs’ (brag) in myths (see ch. 7), as well as in indigenous biotic classifications. 156 Moreover, the bDud-rtsi name, meaning ‘ambrosia’ or ‘nectar’, is a specific classification used for plants related to vitality in bcud len or ‘essence extraction’ practices. The so-called ‘four nectars’ (rtsi bzhi) preparation is based upon the juice extracted from four such plants, one of which is Ephedra. 157 This version of the Tshan rabs narrative not only captures more of the specific character of the sel rites presided over by the initiator Ya-ngal, but also affords us an interesting comparison with g.Yung-drung Bon materials. In separate studies, the Tibetan scholars Samten Karmay and Namkhai Norbu each presented several different texts concerning origin myths of tshan. 158 Although replete with older mythical and ritual elements, both texts occur incorporated into the g.Yung-drung Bon liturgical cycle of the deity Ge-khod, whom Karmay notes in this context represents an indigenous deity transformed by the organised salvation religion into a Buddhist-like tantric deity. We can compare these sources in the Ge-khod cycle with the local versions of the Tshan rabs used in the cult. Two of these g.Yung-drung Bon texts on the ‘white tshan’ and the ‘red tshan’ function as liturgies for purification rites used in various contexts, and must be chanted by actors whom Karmay terms “religious experts”, by which we assume from his research context he must mean persons institutionalised within the g.Yung-drung Bon religion, such as ordained clerics and lamas. So, at least this last point on the need for a designated ritual specialist of one form or another – rather than a non-specialist layperson – to conduct the Ge-khod rite is parallel to the Srid-pa’i lha cult, albeit that totally different types of specialists are involved. As for the key differences between the texts, there are a number of them as follows:

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1. The local Tshan rabs is very modest and short compared to the more elaborate and ‘literary’ g.Yung-drung Bon versions. 2. Unlike the Ge-khod texts, which focus upon purifying poisons and pollution that have already contaminated a deity, the local Tshan rabs only has a single application. It is a part of the overall cycle of sel rites to eliminate problems on the path (lam sel) for the descent of the lha from the sky to the terrestrial site of worship. Thus, the Srid-pa’i lha rite is pre-emptive. It aims to avoid pollution and obstruction from occurring in the first place, rather than dealing with it after the fact. 3. Concerning ingredients for preparing the tshan, the Srid-pa’i lha text only mentions plant species occurring in the living local flora of the research area, each realistically indexed to its actual ecological niche. These plants are indeed what local ritual specialists use. In comparison, the g.Yung-drung Bon liturgies feature lists of ‘exotic’ materials based largely upon animal substances and minerals which are termed ‘medicines’. 4. The most intriguing difference is that the list of tshan plants in our local text is very similar to the list of plants found in the origin myth of bsang purification by fumigation in the g.Yung-drung Bon Ge-khod cycle. The Sridpa’i lha cult has its own versions of a Bsang rabs or Purification Narrative, and Dri zhim dud sel rabs or Elimination with Fragrant Smoke Narrative. In those texts, the purifying fumigation plants are all based upon groupings called ‘nine father trees of the sunny slopes’, ‘nine mother trees of the shady slopes’, and ‘nine son trees of the valleys’’, as mentioned already above in relation to Ya-ngal. These ritual plant grouping references from the cult also occur in the dGa’-thang manuscripts with the oldest appearance of Ya-ngal related to purification rites, while the first two are cited in Old Tibetan documents. There is a significant taxonomic distinction between the plants in the two different lists for bsang and tshan. In Srid-pa’i lha rites, actual ‘tree’ (shing) species, meaning woody perennial trees and shrubs (i.e., their leaves are always available), dominate the bsang list, while smaller herbaceous and often annual species (i.e., they are only seasonally available) dominate the tshan list. This reflects what is used in local practice for the respective rites. The g.Yung-drung Bon text called Ge khod mnol bsang

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thus demonstrates a far less discriminating approach to real ecology, and does not seem to share the same roots in older mundane rites we know of from the early manuscripts. This short comparison demonstrates how very divergent the two different types of tshan origin narratives are. The g.Yung-drung Bon versions have the feeling of being composed in a context divorced from local ritual practice and ecology, and of being artificial in various ways. Additionally, they are all devoid of any mention of Ya-ngal and his gshen brothers, although we know that Ya-ngal himself, in the image of an autonomous ritual specialist, has been associated with these types of rites since at least the eleventh century period in southernmost Tibet. From the available information, it appears that sel in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and in g.Yung-drung Bon represent parallel traditions with nothing in common except the name sel and a few shared elements of myth. The results of this brief comparison above must be considered together with the series of more detailed textual comparisons I undertake in chapters 14 and 15.

4.11 Iconography in the Context of Ethnography Clear iconographical accounts of Ya-ngal Gyim-kong occur in the Sel rabs collections used by bon shamans. They are typical of representations of the class of gshen specialists portrayed in other Srid-pa’i lha narratives. For instance, very similar portraits of the gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo’s costume and accoutrements are often present in the local ritual texts that are used to invoke him throughout the northern zone of the research area (see below). The following iconography of Ya-ngal is set within an invocation of him chanted by bon shamans along the Kuri Chu valley north of Metsho Gewog: Without study [you] mastered the gto rites. On account of that, you Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, Elder brother Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, come forth! With body clad in a cloak (thul) of peacock, With head covered by the whole skin (g.yang gzhi) of a badger, With a victory banner of wild boar [hide] raised upon

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the shoulder, Holding a stalk of Ephedra with a long root in the left hand, And beating a tanned-leather drum, cham chom, in the right. Elder brother Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, Although we cannot come to visit you, We invite you for the sake of living beings! We invite you down below to the sMra land! We invite you down below to Thag-brgyad!159 Of particular interest in these representations are the major elements of Ya-ngal’s ritual costume and accoutrements, which feature wild animal skins, bird feathers and wild plants. Together, they provide a strong case of the value of analysing iconography in the context of ethnography. We find many ethnographic parallels with Ya-ngal’s representation in the material culture and ecology of the extended eastern Himalayas and valley systems of the far south-eastern Plateau margins. Moreover, these parallels often occur within traditions of local ritual specialists who are classed as shamans. I will now survey this comparative material on use of wild animal skins, bird feathers and wild plants. We can begin with Ya-ngal wearing the entire skin of a badger as headgear, which almost always represents the most important part of a Himalayan ritual specialist’s costume (see ch. 6). Tibetan Plateau peoples have long worn wild furs and pelts, but mainly those from a very narrow range of quite specific animal species that are only used in certain ways. Key distinctions here are whether the fur or hair is worn facing to the outside or inside of the garment, and whether an entire skin or only a specific part is being used. We need only be concerned here with examples of fur worn to the outside of garments, and the use of entire skins. The favoured furs and pelts of the Plateau peoples are primarily those of various larger wild cats, and of otter. Yet, these are always used as strips of decorative trim added to specific parts of the basic, conventional woven woollen or sheepskin garments; they do not form garments themselves, not even remotely. Tibetans have also worn sewn cloth hats trimmed on the outside with fox fur, which only occasionally can include

the animal’s bushy tail (and this primarily in more remote rural areas in my experience), but never including any other appendages such as the head and legs. When used as an item of material culture, a whole wild animal skin, complete with the head, legs and tail still attached, is specifically referred to by the interesting term g.yang gzhi or ‘g.yang basis’ in the literary language.160 By comparison, any cloak or coat made from just the pelt(s), whether all or large parts thereof, is usually called either thul, slog pa and slag pa or ber. Across the Tibetan Plateau proper, g.yang gzhi are explicitly used as mats for sitting upon, in both tantric Buddhist and popular village ritual contexts, as well as in the secular culture of the social elite.161 By the same token, wearing of entire wild animal hides complete with head and leg skin still attached, and either covering the torso or the head, is neither ethnographically nor historically attested for the Tibetan Plateau proper. The one exception I am aware of is among peoples of the deep valley (rong) regions in the very far south and south-east margins of the Plateau which form the extended eastern Himalayas. There are specific populations who wear a type of sleeveless tunic made from complete wild animal skins with the fur facing outside (pls. 26, 27, 28). They include peoples dwelling in the East Bodish speaking areas of north-eastern Bhutan and adjacent Monyul Corridor, also in southern Kong-po, Padma-bkod and sPo-bo further east, and still further east all the way across to the Yangtze River loop area north of Lijiang and north up into the Qiang inhabited Marches between western Sichuan and the Tibetan Plateau. These garments are the skins termed g.yang gzhi in Tibetan. The skins used for these tunics are most commonly of the wild goat called goral, especially that of the red goral (Naemorhedus baileyi), and also occasionally of other locally present wild goat species (e.g., takin, Budorcas taxicolor), and only much more rarely of monkey and bear.162 There is one other minor detail from an historical example to mention here in passing, that of the Glud-’gong figures who were ritually expelled from Lhasa and other sites in Central Tibet during the past. They, too, wore “heavy goatskin robes” with the fur facing to the outside, albeit with the important difference that, these were not wild animal pelts.163 I will note the example of the dPa’bo Ro-glud among them in chapter 17.

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Ya-ngal’s headgear is an entire skin including feet, tail and head (g.yang gzhi) of the badger (grum). If grum here indeed refers to the large Mustelid known as the Asian badger or sand badger (Meles leucurus), which is the only badger species known in the proximity of the Tibetan Plateau system, then the occurrence of real animals of this type is largely confined to valley systems of the extended eastern Himalayas in southern Khams and eastern Kong-po. In the Gzi brjid, this animal is required as a component for sel rites, the specialty of Ya-ngal, where it is gathered together with the monkey (see below) and the flying squirrel, 164 both of which also only occur regionally within the same geographical and ecological zone as badger. In Central Tibet, where badger are not known to occur, some ritual specialists who resemble bon shamans in various respects have transmissions of rites that include the badger. For example, hereditary ala (cf. A ya) priests in valleys west of Lhasa conduct

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ïPlate 26. Mon-yul Corridor man wearing a goral skin pagtsa tunic, West Kameng, Arunachal Pradesh, 2009.

éPlate 27. sPo-bo man wearing a wild goat or monkey skin tunic, Tibet, 1920-1921 (Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, detail of acc. no. 1998.285.335).

2 Plate 28. Naxi men of the Yangtze loop region north of Lijiang wearing goatskin tunics, Yunnan, 1930s.

3 Plate 29. Representation of the Ephedra (mtshe ldum) plant, from a Tibetan language materia medica text supplemented with Mongol, Manchu and Chinese names.

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positive rites related to the life power g.yang and to soil fertility that feature the badger.165 The word defining Ya-ngal’s cloak of peacock here is thul pa, which implies the garment is made of the whole skin(s) of birds with feathers attached, and the image is thus of the garment being covered with feathers. This is in fact an image that constantly resurfaces in narratives from, or associated with, the Himalayan distribution zone of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its immediately neighbouring southern Tibetan Plateau environs. These references are very old, dating at least as far back as the eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts. In a Byol rabs narrative from that collection, the ‘king of bad omens’ Gang-par Ge-ber ‘wears a cloak of various bird feathers upon his body’, while the ’Phrul-yul narrative of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs describes the gshen named Zhang-zhung Mu-lto-ba as ‘wearing a cloak of vulture upon his body’.166 A southern Tibetan recounting of a clan origin narrative during the mid-1200s describes the Mon ancestor of the clan named lHo in southernmost Central Tibetan as being one Na Ga-ber (cf. Gang-par Ge-ber), whose ‘body was adorned with the feathers of birds’.167 A later compilation of the genealogy of the sMyos (or gNyos) clan from Bhutan names its mythical progenitor as Bya-thul dKar-po or ‘White Bird Cloak’.168 Finally, concerning the stalk of the Ephedra (mtshe) shrub with a long root held in Ya-ngal’s left hand, we must point out that the classical Tibetan materia medica always stress the resemblance of the leaf less, jointed Ephedra stalks to bamboo canes with nodes (pl. 29).169 Ephedra’s main medical ‘efficaciousness’ (nus pa) in Tibetan sources is usually defined with the verbs sel (“to eliminate”) and gcod (“to cut off”),170 which also describe Ya-ngal’s ritual activities in protection of the lha during descent from and ascent back up to the sky world in the local rabs. While I will reserve a fuller discussion of Ephedra and its ritual significance until chapter 7, the specific reference to the stalk of mtshe in Yangal’s iconography is important in various ways. It has to be understood as symbolically linking Ya-ngal to the gshen priest designated as the mtshe mi, literally ‘Ephedra man’, who is his mythical parallel in ca. eleventh century ritual texts from dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che. This is the tshe myi

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rMu-rgyal who performs the same rites as Ya-ngal in one among the series of Rnel dri ’dul ba narratives in the manuscripts. 171 The Srid-pa’i lha cult iconography of the gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo also places emphasis upon his use of the Ephedra stalk, as we will see in the following section, and thus directly identifies him as a gshen role model within the cult in the same way as Ya-ngal. Another significant dimension of the long plant stalk or stick held by Ya-ngal and gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo, and which resembles, or is an analogue of, bamboo, is that it links him with a very widespread aspect of shamans along the extended eastern Himalayas. This is the ritual staff, as we will see in the ethnographic examples below, and as already recalled in the staff with bat design and name used by the Naxi dtô-mbà in the previous section. The same ritual staff is also recurrent as an essential

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ï Plate 30. Mra nyibu shaman wearing chaybo headgear, with kyokam mayab feather wand across his right shoulder, Orak, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007.

é Plate 31. Mra nyibu shaman wearing chaybo headgear with tabiyou ritual staff, Orak, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007.

2 Plate 32. Mra nyibu shaman placing his tabiyou ritual staff at the mouth of a freshly sacrificed mithun bull, Orak, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007.

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accoutrement of gshen and bon priests in old ‘bon’-identified myths, as well as having a long history of significance for ritual specialists in Chinese religions.172 We will move away from mythical gshen now, and explore the fact of some pertinent regional ethnographic parallels for all these features of the ancient sel priest’s costume and accoutrements. An almost exact parallel is found in the eastern Himalayan highlands today, not too far from our research region. Among the small, mono-clan populations speaking Tani languages in the upper Subansiri River valley, such as the Mra whom I have studied extensively, 173 and who dwell immediately adjacent to the Tibetan region of Tsari, the

costume of their nyibu shamans matches that of the mythical sel priest Ya-ngal Gyim-kong. Moreover, the type of local Pöba rigu and Rialo rites these nyibu perform for the community when wearing this particular costume specifically involve elimination of obstacles and the clearing of spaces and routes of negative hindrances, and the holding of the vitality principle within the body. These are the same functions as described for the sel rites and for the use of Ephedra. When performing major rituals such as the Rialo ‘feast of merit’ and the Nyida marriage ceremony, the Mra nyibu and those from neighbouring areas wear a special headpiece known as chaybo. This is formed from the entire skin of the sirch or yellow-throated marten (Martes flavigula).174 This skin is not too dissimilar in most respects from that of its Mustelid cousin the Asian or sand badger,

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albeit usually with a longer tail and somewhat brighter colouring, tending to yellows and russets (pl. 30). As it hangs down from the priest’s head, covering his back like a cape, the whole chaybo is decorated with a covering of white cock feathers (rokun). The chaybo-wearing nyibu holds a ritual staff called tabiyou made from long, thin canes of bamboo (pl. 31).175 This bamboo staff is used specifically at one point during the Rialo festival honouring ancestors. Immediately – literally the initial seconds – after a mithun bull is sacrificed, the nyibu plants the end of the tabiyou staff directly at the entrance of the mouth of the freshly fallen animal (pl. 32). This is in order to prevent its vitality principle (aram) from departing the body via the main head orifice before the first blood, fat and viscera can be harvested from inside the carcass. There is a further point of comparison between the two types of priests suggested by the feathers that cover the nyibu’s headdress-cum-cape and Ya-ngal’s peacock cloak. Like the bon shamans at many sites of Srid-pa’i lha cult, nyibu are strongly identified with birds.176 They also embark upon visionary flying journeys across the landscape to eventually arrive in parallel worlds, and, in so doing they ritually mimic the bird just as the bon po does the bat as a classificatory ‘bird’. The nyibu also has an auxiliary deity-cum-mount who is a bird, the spirit of the eagle, whose wing feathers and claws called kyokam mayab they always carry as an essential accoutrement. The kyokam must always be hanging over the nyibu’s shoulder (usually the right side), and down the back during actual performances of ritual chanting, as if it provided rear wings for them (one can be seen hanging down the back from the nyibu’s right shoulder in pl. 30). This parallels and suggests the fluted bat wings, claws and decorated bat body designs upon the back of the old style of cape preserved and worn still by some bon shamans (pl. 22). Such bird symbolism in myths, costumes and accoutrements, and ritual practices associated with priests are found in local highland communities speaking Tibeto-Burman languages throughout the extended eastern Himalayas. While mythical priests and real priests are certainly different propositions, in this case both phenomena share

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common ancestral roots in the past, whatever those may have been. The idea is by no means far-fetched. As realities in situ, the two, as I recorded them, are currently located only some 200 kilometres distant from one another along the extended eastern Himalayas, both around known points for north-south transit and cultural contact between Plateau and hills, where major river valleys cut through the Himalayan mountain chain. The territory of the Mra and their immediate neighbours in the upper reaches of the Subansiri River is located in the highland watershed of a long Tibetan Plateau river valley system formed by the courses of the Bya Chu and Lo-ro Chu rivers. One can easily walk via this system all the way to Mon mTsho-sna, and the Sridpa’i lha cult region, as we know frequently occurred in the past for the purposes of pilgrimage and trade. The Mra and their closely related neighbours the Na and Bai also appear to be populations representing traces of much older east to west migrations along the eastern Himalayas, and I will take up discussion of this in chapter 18. A final comparison with the g.Yung-drung Bon religion is germane here, since many narratives it preserves also incorporate semi-divine and human ritual specialists, or other human agents in the stories, clad in wild animal skin and bird feather garments, and sometimes animal fur hats. 177 A fairly early but typical example is found in the ca. thirteenth century Grags pa gling grags portrayal of that religion’s famous sage Dran-pa Nam-mkha’, whom Per Kværne described as “beyond doubt the most important and [...] complex figure in the history of Bon during the reign of the great Tibetan kings.”178 The Grags pa gling grags represents gshen Dran-pa Nam-mkha’ with ‘a cloak of fur from a carnivorous beast bound to his body’. 179 The examples from the dGa’-thang and other early manuscripts from southernmost Central Tibet cited above strongly suggest that g.Yung-drung Bon redactors must have borrowed these images from older non-religious traditions of rites for mundane goals. However, they eventually became edited out of that religion’s dominant imagery. For example, many icons of Dran-pa Nam-mkha’ are available from the later art of g.Yung-drung Bon. All of them dress him either in conventional monk’s attire, or the fine jewels, crowns and flowing

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silk raiments of enlightened bodhisattva or Buddha figures, or with the costume and accoutrements of the archetypal tantric yogin derived from the Indian tradition, and all of which are absolutely typical of the orthodox iconography of Tibetan salvational religions. 180 Thus, the sage’s animal and bird skin garments of the earlier stages of the religion’s development had to disappear, as imagery derived originally from Indic Buddhist sources became the dominant style for representation. With my comparative analysis of the iconography of gshen Ya-ngal I hope to have demonstrated that such figures preserved in the Srid-pa’i lha cult are not merely localised phenomena. Nor are they derived from the already known stock of representations in g.Yung-drung Bon sources from the Tibetan Plateau. Rather, the iconography of the gshen must be viewed within the context of cultural patterns of narrative, symbolism, social practice and ecological realities along the extended eastern Himalayas and the immediately adjacent southernmost Tibetan Plateau margins they overlap with.181 We now have to seriously consider that these and other such priestly figures who sometimes populate ‘bon’-identified myths were not just derived from wild imaginings, or represent some unlikely attempts at exotic description on the part of authors and redactors of older narratives. They actually reflect, and are based upon, real regional traditions of Himalayan ritual specialists and their practices that exist, or once existed, on the ground.

in most of the principal Srid-pa’i lha rabs texts that are publicly chanted during worship. The second form occurs in certain ritual texts for extolling (bstod) and contemplating (sgom) an icon of the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo that a small group of ritual specialists in the far northern range of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities employ as a non-public dimension of their ritual practice. This ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo icon is the strongest example we can find within the cult of any historical contact its specialists once had with materials derived from some form of the g.Yung-drung Bon religion, although the connection in this case appears to have been by way of Buddhism generating a unique representation of gShen-rab Mi-bo. While these two forms of gShen-rab Mi-bo serve as ritual models which contemporary priests can emulate or be identified with in some manner during performance of rites, the third form explicitly concerns the public social identity of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities within a socio-political and cultural milieu in which Buddhism has been dominant since at least the fifteenth century. Thus, in one way or another, identification can be thought of as the prime focus of all gShen-rab Mi-bo’s images within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. I will now discuss these three forms in the order I have just introduced them.

The gShen 4.12

Three Forms of gShen-rab the Crisis Manager

Three different forms of the initiator figure named gShenrab Mi-bo occur in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. They can be understood as reflecting three different types of historical factors influencing Srid-pa’i lha worship communities and the cultural resources available to them over time. One form in our local research data is a gshen ritual specialist who is a crisis manager, and whose representation is directly descended from an identical figure appearing in Old Tibetan documents and the dGa’-thang manuscripts preserving ritual antecedent narratives. This gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo appears

As various scholars have pointed out, it was merely the name gShen-rab Mi-bo for an otherwise unknown character appearing a handful of times in Old Tibetan documents, that provided an identity for the enlightened master or ‘teacher’ (ston pa) gShen-rab Mi-bo as the founder of the organised salvation religion called g.Yung-drung Bon. 182 Aside from his name, which itself appears to be a descriptive construct, there are in fact very few discernable attributes of this figure as he appears in pre-eleventh century documents discovered beyond the Tibetan Plateau. At least three points do clearly emerge. gShen-rab Mi-bo only features in what Rolf Stein described as “a legendary

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or mythological ritual story”. He is always referred to with the title pha. And, although he does sometimes act as a specialist who performs rites, he is also portrayed as some type of ‘crisis manager’, one who explains to others the causes of a problem and its ritual solution. We now know this narrative ‘template’ for a gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo lived on beyond the Old Tibetan documents. He appears again, true to this old model, in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts.183 The gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo’s portrayal in the principal ritual narratives chanted during Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals appears in every way to be a strong continuity of this attested regional presence of the gshen template from the past. In the oral chants and written manuscripts of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, gShen-rab Mi-bo184 – either with or without the ston pa title – is most frequently addressed as pha or yab (or pha cig and yab cig), or with the appositional synonym pha dang yab. These forms are all gShen-rab m[y]i-bo’s standard titles in Old Tibetan sources and other early manuscripts mentioning the name, 185 although pha by itself is applied to a variety of gshen in some of the same sources. In several manuscripts from the northern areas of our research region, he is also addressed as pha jo (spoken phajo), which is a respectful term for ‘father’ in the Lhodrak dialect of Tibetan used immediately to the north of the research region.186 All such respectful male kinship terms are also applied to leading ancestral and progenitor deities in the cult and in other related ritual systems, as I have noted above and will discuss in details again in chapter 6. In much older texts, the term pha may also represent a separate category term applied to ritual specialists in addition to being a kin term (see ch. 14). The local iconography of the gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo closely connects the image and function of ritual specialists depicted in old ‘bon’-identified manuscripts with those of living bon shamans. Among the oldest attested functions for this type of specialist is safeguarding the essential life powers of the person, and especially the mobile vitality principle (CT bla and non-Tibetic cognates) and the ‘life force’ (srog). As we noted in sections above, and as we will describe in ethnographic detail in sections and chapters below, one of the most ancient technologies still in use for achieving this

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é Plate 33. The ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo holding an Ephedra stalk in his right hand and srog mkhar arrow in his left, illustrated bon shaman manuscript (inscription: g.yas phyogs na ston pa shen rab), north-east Bhutan, 2012.

safeguarding is the ‘planting’ (btsugs) of feathers called ‘bird horns’ (bya ru) and stalks of the mtshe or Ephedra herb on the crown of the head. Like gshen Ya-ngal, and the ancient mtshe mi mentioned already above and in the following chapter, gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo in the Srid-pa’i lha cult is closely identified with the use and symbolism of Ephedra for this purpose. In one of the very few painted images found surviving in any contemporary cult community, the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo is depicted holding a long stalk of Ephedra adorned with a left-turning swastika in his right hand, and an arrow in his left hand (pl. 33). In the local ritual culture, both the Ephedra stalk and the ritual arrow are directly connected with rites for preservation of aspects of the life force

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or vitality principle. These local understandings of both the Ephedra stalk and the ritual arrow are also deeply rooted in the old ritual culture of the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts from nearby gTam-shul, which inform so many details of myths and rites still practiced today. These are worth briefly discussing. In local understanding, the ritual arrow held by gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo represents the srog mkhar or ‘stronghold of [patrilineal] life force’. 187 Such arrows are decorated by affixing the white scarf of g.yang to them at the notch end of the arrow. Our ethnographic context determines g.yang to be a quintessential re/productive potency that can be embodied by women and cattle. The ritual arrow here thus relates to the vitality of both men and women, as well as all their important animals. This same type of ritual arrow is in fact closely assimilated to Ephedra in old rites described in the Byol rabs narratives from the dGa’-thang manuscripts. An example occurs in both the detailed description of, and rhetorical framing for, the first, long byol narrative, with reference to the primordial antecedent for the rite concerning the figure named Yab-bla bDal-drug, who suffers maladies and must be cured. Four different gshen and bon, one of whom is gShen-rab Myi-bo, are sought to undertake four types of ‘ransoms’ (blus, glud) that must be exchanged with negative beings who are then ‘averted by byol’ to save the endangered life of the victim. These ransoms throughout the series of byol narratives often feature use of Ephedra, mustard seed and arrows. The first ransom in the Yab-bla bDal-drug tale is for the bdud beings and logically conducted by a bdud bon specialist. His initial preparations are described as follows: Having appointed a child as the pledge, The bdud bon Dreng-nga Dreng-khug Affixed dark blue bdud silk To the black notch of a bdud arrow. He affixed a large tuft of perforated animal hide webbing 188 To the arrow shaft with three nodes. At the white forehead of a black bdud sheep, To the right he affixed bdud Ephedra, its surface189 painted with ink/blacking.190

To the left he affixed a spiral bdud conch, painted with ink/blacking.191 After the four ritual specialists each conduct their respective ransoms in the narrative, a summary passage rhetorically reflects upon the primordial byol rite: In antiquity, whose byol [rite] was it? It was the byol for lord Yab-bla bDal-drug. Moreover, when one pulls away the arrow from its ornamentation,192 Looking at its fletches, the fletches are of Ephedra. Looking at the arrowhead, the arrowhead is of wood. On the arrowhead, byol fire is ablaze. The Ephedra and mustard seed do the hailing. When [such an arrow] was shot at the five demons and Five enemies of the body that had settled in, A byol was like that in antiquity. As for Yab-bla bDal-drug, It was byol that engendered a lessening [of his vitality robbing affliction].193 Thus, the arrow, with silk scarf affixed at the notch end, its Ephedra fletches – usually feathers – and Ephedra attached to the ransom animal were all closely overlapping and partially assimilated ritual objects in dGa’-thang rites, as they are in the living Srid-pa’i lha cult today. The Ephedra stalk is also used by itself for maintaining the presence of the vitality principle within the body. In cult practice it is interchangeable with the ritual feather termed bya ru, as is discussed in the study of ‘planting’ (btsugs) rites in chapter 7. As demonstrated above for Ya-ngal, the Ephedra stalk also represents the wooden staff as the hand insignia and ritual tool of many mythical gshen described in older texts and is equivalent to the wooden or bamboo ritual staffs still used by a certain type of ritual specialist along the extended eastern Himalayas, who are usually comparatively definable as shamans. Here, in the manuscript image of the ston pa gShen-rab (pl. 33), the staff-like Ephedra also appears to double as an insignia that is equivalent to the phyag shing (sometimes written lcags shing) sceptre found in certain older – and virtually identical – icons from

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g.Yung-drung Bon specifically depicting gShen-rab Mi-bo’s manifestation as a gshen specialist (pl. 34).194 An interesting feature of the phyag shing is that it is of ‘wood’ (shing) that contrasts with common references to metal or stone sceptres, such as the Buddhist rdo rje. One could productively speculate that the long Ephedra stalk, which is sometimes referred to as shing in our local Srid-pa’i lha cult sources, and the various instances of wooden sticks and staffs held by ritual specialists in old ‘bon’-identified myths mentioned in the discussion of Ya-ngal above, were an older ritual device essential for the function of the gshen. And, that the later phyag shing was developed on the basis of these under the selective hand of g.Yung-drung Bon iconographers who had an eye on parallel Buddhist hand-held

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ï Plate 34. Manifestation body of gShen-rab Mi-bo holding a phyag shing sceptre in his right hand, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig (inscription: gshen rab sprul sku). é Plate 35. Illustration of the gnyan bon Thang-thang Khrol-ba, from a mDa’-tshang manuscript, Gansu, China.

sceptres which entered Tibet via the Indian Buddhist iconography of Tantra.195 Another rare and apparently old image of a bon ritual specialist concerned with mundane rites, the gnyan bon Thangthang Khrol-ba (pl. 35), is also revealing when compared with the Ya-ngal and gShen-rab iconographies found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The gnyan bon Thang-thang Khrol-ba

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appears in undated texts of the Gnyan ’bum collection which are mainly concerned with apotropaic rites. These texts are addressed to what Samten Karmay identified as “types of spirits believed to dwell in the natural environment”,196 and that had been practiced until recently by local ritual specialists in the Tewo region of the far north-eastern Tibetan Plateau in a tradition either separate from, or in an ambivalent relationship with monastic g.Yung-drung Bon.197 These Gnyan ’bum texts also feature Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, as well as a non-religious gShen-rab figure, a capable messenger bat, various bird actors and rites related to birds, and a selection of the individual myth motives and identities also found in bon shaman texts. The Gnyan ’bum collection, along with the dGa’-thang manuscripts and texts of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, have all drawn upon a similar pool of older cultural resources at some times during the past. They have thus been the preserve of the same types of autonomous local practice traditions, even though there are quite marked differences in the types of rites they define and deities they address. The image of gnyan bon Thang-thang Khrol-ba from a mDa’-tshang manuscript depicts him holding two long objects in his hands. The one in his right hand could possibly be the stalk of a plant or twig, while that in his left distinctly resembles a flower on a stalk, or a ritual wand that resembles the same.

Tibeto-Burman languages along the extended eastern Himalayas. The iconography of the gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo in the cult also strongly conforms to this pattern. For example, here is an invocation to this gshen from a rabs used throughout the northern and central distribution zones of the Srid-pa’i lha cult:

The detailed analysis of gshen Ya-ngal in the previous section demonstrated that his iconography and other related images all most closely reflect the material cultures of shamans among various highland peoples speaking

Moreover, there is no mistaking this type of gShen-rab Mi-bo image as being that of the eastern Himalayan shaman described in the ethnographic literature, and one can analyse each feature of it from this comparative perspective. We can take the example of the manner of carrying the main musical instruments. The carrying of a drum across the back is rather typical of shamans’ behaviour along the extended eastern Himalayas. Qiang shamans carry their

That gShen-rabs Mi-bo, With his body adorned by lha and gsas, With his speech adorned by bon and smrang, And with his mind adorned by gto and dpyad. He wears a cloak of lynx and otter pelts upon his body. He wears a striped tiger’s tail 198 upon his head. He wears short-shafted,199 leopard[-skin] boots upon his feet.200 They are affixed with cords of stag’s gut.201 [A girdle] of golden lizard is set around his waist. He carries a very broad, loud drum upon his back. A large, white bronze flat bell is hung over his shoulder.202 At least six lines within this description from this Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscript closely parallel a short account of the pha (gshen elsewhere in the same text) gShen-rab Myi-bo given in the Byol rabs manuscript from dGa’-thang (fig. 4).

í Figure 4. Comparison of gShen-rab Mi-bo descriptions in a Srid-pa’i lha cult text and the dGa’-thang Byol rabs.

line

Gnam sa cho ’phrul bzhugs so manuscript

line

Byol rabs manuscript

1 3 4 5 11 12

gshen rabs mi bo de // gsung ni bon dang smrang gyis brgyan // thugs ni gto dang spyad kyis brgyan // sku la g.yi thul sram thul gsol // rnga grags mo gzhung chen rgyab na khur // gshang ’khar mo dril chen phrag la kal //

1 2 3 17 18 19

pha gshen rab myi bo la // gto dang dpyad bgyis sam // mo dang mtshungs bgyis sam // dar gyi ral ga ring la gsol // rnga ding chen ding drags rgyab la khur // gshang khri lo skad snyan mchan du gsal // 203

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large, single-sided drums upon their backs as a form of defence against spirit attack from behind,204 while it is also common to see bon shamans during festivals with their bronze f lat bells (gshang) hung over their shoulders or being held tucked under one arm, just as these texts mention. Further, the gShen-rab Mi-bo of the Srid-pa’i lha cult is often associated with a horse as his mount (see ch. 10) – although the animal is apparently no normal horse – while many Himalayan and North Asian shamans have horse symbolism incorporated into their ritual paraphernalia. The same is true of the gshen or pha gShen-rab Myi-bo in the dGa’-thang Byol rabs, as a description of his horse from that text shows: The stallion is swift when young. Lag-pa’i mThing-ge Ning-ge was swift when young. The warm muzzled gsas horse of gShen-rab Myi-bo had a saddle placed on it.205 The gsas referent for gShen-rab’s horse named Lag-pa’i mThing-ge Ning-ge signifies the beast as an auxiliary being. Other gshen who perform rites together with gShenrab Myi-bo in the same Byol rabs narrative also have special horses that fly. For instance, his colleague the gnam gyi bon po Mus-dpal Phrog-rol ‘rides a white lha horse’206 when he descends from the sky to earth. All these horses closely resemble the mounts of ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gurzhe in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. In addition to many continuities the gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo in the cult shares with both ethnographic shamans and the ca. eleventh century gShen-rab Myi-bo, there seems no doubt that certain of his aspects as represented in the cult also have deep roots in pre-eleventh century cultural patterns more generally. For example, the wearing of tiger skin is an ancient practice with a specific value. As Rolf Stein pointed out referring to Old Tibetan documents, the wearing of tiger was an insignia of courage and military bravery in imperial Tibet.207 This meaning related to the gshen is explicit in Srid-pa’i lha cult eulogies to gShen-rab Mi-bo as well, where part of his iconography states, “As for wearing a striped tiger’s tail upon the head, it is the mark of gShen-rab being wrathful.”208

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As the most frequently occurring initiator figure in the local Srid-pa’i lha narratives, the gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo is central to the identification process between living priests and mythical initiators, an identification that is achieved orally and publicly via the chanting of rabs. This conforms entirely to the function of rabs as ritual antecedent narratives, which Brandon Dotson called the “what was beneficial in the past shall be beneficial now” rhetoric they contain.209 Rabs for Srid-pa’i lha worship are very explicit about this identity link between gShen-rab Mi-bo as the initiator of rites at the time of origins, and the contemporary performers who undertake the rites (and who are thus chanting the rabs) in the present. In a manuscript from U-ra, at the very beginning of the long Lha zhu rabs recounting in detail how gShen-rab Mi-bo first selected and trained the messenger bat who must ascend the thirteen levels of the sky to bring down the lha, it states: Swo! At the beginning of its existence, it [i.e., the Lha zhu rite] was performed by the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo. At the mid-point of its existence, it was performed by klu bon mChod-rten Sangs-rgyas. Most recently in its existence, it is performed by the lha bon thod dkar.210 The ‘white turbaned’ (thod dkar) lha bon here is none other than the present-day hereditary village ritual specialist who must re-enact the messenger bat’s ritual journey to invite the Srid-pa’i lha. At Lawa village, in the Khoma valley, the bon shaman chants a long myth in which gShen-rab Mi-bo invokes many types of beings to ‘arise’ (bzhengs), after which the temporal and identity register shifts so that the shaman chants, “Today, I, the gshen bon, will protect you!”211 While these statements certainly have an aetiological character, they also imply a sort of ancestral link between gShen-rab Mi-bo and the contemporary shaman. In a group of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities along the western banks of the Kuri Chu river, around Saleng and the Gongdukha speaking communities of eastern Bhutan, one of the human ritual specialists who performs as a ‘text reading shaman’ leading the festivals is in fact explicitly designated as the Tenpa Shenrab in colloquial speech.

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The Bon sTon pa Rabs featuring gShen-rab Mi-bo as an a primordial gshen just discussed are very widespread in most parts of the research region. The second main type of publicly chanted narrative concerning gShen-rab Mi-bo is however very limited in distribution, being found in use only in the upper Kholong Chu, Khoma Chu and upper Kuri Chu valleys – in other words, in a zone of the far north-east of Bhutan directly along the border with southern Tibet. These narratives are not styled as rabs, but rather termed bstod or ‘eulogy’. This genre is completely different in character and provenance since bstod are based upon Sanskrit stotra literature introduced into Tibetan religions via Indian Buddhism. These short eulogies to gShen-rab Mi-bo always title him as the Bon ston pa or ‘teacher’, rather than pha or gshen. Their whole content obviously represents an artefact of some direct or indirect contact at some point in history between the bon shamans of these remote corners of north-east Bhutan where the gShen-rab Mi-bo eulogy is found, and a religious interpretation of Bon that probably entered the area from neighbouring lHo-brag in Tibet. Currently, we lack any historical records of such direct contact, although below I will discuss strong indications it may have been via a lineage of open-minded Tibetan lamas interested in both Buddhist and g.Yung-drung Bon teachings. I found only one Bon ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo eulogy in use, although its written wording can differ somewhat between the several sites where it occurs. The example given here entitled Bon rgyud is that used during the Lhamoche festival at Tsango in the upper Khoma Chu valley. The full ethnographic context of its use during the winter of 2012 is given in the Tsango documentation in chapter 9. I will not repeat any of those details here, except to say that it is chanted as one of the first texts in the sequence on each main day of the festival. Local informants at Tsango understood its purpose as giving recognition to gShen-rab Mi-bo as one of the main initiators of their local rites of Srid-pa’i lha worship. Its chanting is also considered a form of legitimation for their contemporary ritual specialist as an emulator of the original gShen-rab Mi-bo who represents an ancestor to be invoked

by bon shamans. The title of the text, Bon rgyud, expresses both these notions, although rgyud here is not to be confused with the religious idea of a formal ‘lineage’ – a common translation for [b]rgyud in other contexts – in terms of continuous succession which passes directly from person to person across chronological time. The proper name Bonrgyud is used in another colloquial narrative context at the same site of Tsango to describe an ancestral ritual specialist and the transmission of practice, and there the name specifically means Continuity of Rites (see below). By the same token, this Bon ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo eulogy does invoke the names Bon and g.Yu-rung Bon (meaning ‘Suitable Turquoise Bon’) representing some type of religious tradition, and one I will discuss further below. The Bon rgyud is one of the very few texts to do so within the entire corpus of manuscripts for Srid-pa’i lha worship. Thus, chanted in context it must be understood as a hybrid, part religious eulogy (bstod) and in part having the same antecedent functions as the other rabs that it is used together with. Here, I translate the first half of the Bon rgyud eulogy that represents the content and style repeated throughout the entire chant: As for the Bon ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo, His body resembles the cosmic mountain. His speech resembles that of an enlightened being. His mind is that of non-conceptual Bon. His abilities are equal to the limits of the sky. He has control over all his actions. As for the sagaciousness [coming] from his mouth, It is a mark of the speech of a great Gyer-sgom. [2a] The state of his voice, as if broadcast from a horn, Is a mark of power over the beneficial and harmful deities of the phenomenal world. The resounding drum carried upon his back,212 Is a mark of performing invocations and offerings to the Srid-pa’i lha. The topknot on his head trussed up [like] seven virtues,213 Is a mark of his wrathful discrimination. His face steadfastly cast at the lowest [of the low], Is a mark of overwhelming all the dgra bgegs. His body being clothed in many silk ribbons, [1b]

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Is a mark of the subjugation by Bon of all types of magical tricks. The topknot on his head trussed up [like] seven virtues, Is a mark of the sovereignty in expression of an emerging enlightened one. [2b] Having a ritual tiara with skulls,214 and yellow and black hair locks, Is a mark of powerful wisdom blazing like fire. Having a golden swastika directly at the navel, Is a mark of arising from the pure, eternal realm of Bon. That noble one, the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo, Born in a [human] body with the body, speech and mind of a lha, Performs bon for the sake of living being. That ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo, He was Kun-tu bZang-po during the era of the Ancient Ones (rNying-ma). He was rDo-rje ’Chang-chen during the era of the New Translations (gSar-ma). He was Shakya Thub-pa during the era of the Doctrine (bsTan-pa). He was rNam-par sNang-mdzad during the era of the Five Families (Rigs-lnga). He was sTag-la Me-’bar during the era of the Wrathful Ones (Khro-bo). He was Che-mchog He-ru-ka during the era of Mantra (sNgags). [3a] He was sTong-nyid Chen-po during the era of Dharma (Chos). He was ’Khrul-med Chen-po during the era of the Manifestation Body (sPrul-sku). He is the Gyer-sgom Chen-po during the era of Bon. As for gShen-rab Mi-bo whose body and speech are spontaneously present, He appeared as gShen-rab Mi-bo for the sake of sentient beings. His each and every deed is for the sake of beings in all direction. For his deeds of body for the sake of beings, he displays his complexion.

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For his deeds of speech for the sake of beings, he is surrounded by each and every bon. For his deeds of mind for the sake of beings, he is surrounded by each and every lha. He is gSang-chen Ngo-bo during the era of Gathering Together (’Ub). For all kinds of sentient beings in their different manifestations, For whosoever needs to be tamed, he preaches many kinds of Bon. [3b] When he concentrates them, he dissolves them into a single ’o basis. When he distributes them, they are of great diversity. If one understands who was the very first one, it was gShen-rab Mi-bo.215 The text is a fascinating combination or hybrid of very different elements. It begins with a Tantric eulogistic scheme of personal aspects (sku, gsung, thugs, yon tan and ’phrin las) which is a modified form of an old five- or sixfold set of characteristics describing the ideal ruler found already in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan documents.216 Then, we find expressions such as ‘non-conceptual Bon’ or ‘the pure, eternal realm of Bon’, and references to gShen-rab Mi-bo being a Gyer-sgom performing ‘deeds for the sake of all sentient beings’. These all derive from the language of Tibetan salvation religions, particularly g.Yung-drung Bon. I used capitalised ‘Bon’ for several occurrences of that word in the translation to signal identifications in such a context. Yet, on other lines it appears bon is used as the technical term meaning ‘rite’, or to designate auxiliary beings, in concert with the common meanings of that word in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For instance, the line stating that gShen-rab, “performs bon for the sake of living being (’gro ba’i don la bon mdzad do) must refer to some practical action he ‘does’ or what he ‘makes’ (mdzad), such as a rite. The parallel lines, ‘he is surrounded by each and every bon… he is surrounded by each and every lha’ appear to refer to a bon shaman’s use of auxiliary deities termed bon and lha that he surrounds his body with during certain types of rites, as detailed in chapter 7. Still other references, such as those to ‘the loud drum carried upon his back’, or ‘his body being clothed in many silk

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ribbons’ are aspects of the gshen figure directly transferred from the rabs of the dGa’-thang manuscripts and Srid-pa’i lha cult. In the last example here, even certain phrasing, such as sku la dar rna mang po gsol ba ni, closely compares with dar gyi ral ga ring la gsol in the dGa’-thang iconography of gShen-rab (see fig. 4). These are images describing the accoutrements and costumes of shamans throughout the extended eastern Himalayas and beyond, and they reflect the reality of the contemporary bon shaman and some coperformers in his rites. The Bon rgyud eulogy above ends with a long series of identifications of gShen-rab Mi-bo that represent traditionally defined periods of religious development. They ref lect both g.Yung-drung Bon and Tibetan-style Buddhism, but in the latter case particularly the rNying-mapa sect. These appear related to the eclectic attitude typical of later religious movements such as Bon gSar-ma and Ris-med, in which boundaries between g.Yung-drung Bon and the rNying-ma-pa school of Tibetan Buddhism were conceived of as more loosely defined, as overlapping and negotiated with pragmatic tolerance. There is a known, early source for this attitude directly related to Bhutan and southernmost Tibet, namely the Tibetan ‘treasure revealer’ (gter ston) lama rDo-rje Gling-pa (1346-1405). His style of teaching is highly likely the background to the references above in the Bon rgyud eulogy. rDo-rje Gling-pa is known to have been equally interested in both Tibetan Buddhist and g.Yung-drung Bon teachings. He visited western Bhutan and Bumthang during the period 1374-1376, and again in 1388, a year when he was also in lHo-brag. However, it is to be emphasised here that the ‘Bon’ which rDo-rje Gling-pa was concerned with himself was fully-blown g.Yung-drung Bon, and especially its rDzogs-chen teachings, which are about as far removed from the Srid-pa’i lha cult as one can imagine. Samten Karmay, who studied the activities of this treasure revealer in Bhutan, states of him: The particularity of Dorje Lingpa is that he was the earliest who clearly formulated the theory of the “oneness of Bon and Buddhism” (Bonchö Yerme). This concept was born anew with his revelation of

the “Gold Needle” in Bhutan and later was taken up by the nineteenth century “eclectic movement” in Khams as its principal attitude.217 In a passage from rDo-rje Gling-pa’s own description of conditions contingent upon his revelation of a treasure text on rDzogs-chen called the ‘Gold Needle’ in western Bhutan, the lama related one of his dreams as follows: In a dream, I then had a vision of Padmasambhava with a swastika swirling about his crown. I thought, “this is not Padmasambhava”. At that moment the figure said: “I am Padmasambhava. I am Tshewang Rigdzin. I am Shakya Thubpa. I am Shenrab Miwo.... Many texts were concealed in the box that you found. The Bon texts are like the heart... It is now high time that you reveal them to others....” To this I replied: “From my childhood I learned only Buddhism. I have no knowledge of Bon and will be unable to propagate it.” The figure gave a philosophical explanation emphasising the importance of the Bon and finally said: “There is nothing that you cannot know about Bon. The time has come. If you do not remove the cataract of ignorance from the lens of the eye, what is the use of the “Gold Needle”?218 This is a language and attitude very close to that occurring in parts of the Bon rgyud eulogy. It seems highly likely that rDo-rje Gling-pa’s approach and works in some local historical context currently unknown to us – but highly likely in lHo-brag where we can place him – directly or indirectly inspired texts such as the Bon rgyud eulogy. In fact, within the research region and its surroundings, this material and the type of language used to express it is also typical of the balanced and generally very tolerant coexistence of the ‘bon’-identified Srid-pa’i lha cult with its shamans, and rNying-ma-pa Buddhism as a movement of hereditary lineages and lay practitioners (gomchen) existing within many village communities across the north-east corner of Bhutan. This more neutral relationship is probably based upon many centuries of social experience, with village lamas and bon shamans serving different ritual needs within the

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same communities, and it is still quite evident in everyday life today. By comparison, the gsar ma or ‘new translation’ schools of Tibetan Buddhism dominant in other neighbouring areas have generally been more hostile or dismissive towards the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Gene Smith once speculated that this type of positive coexistence might have been present in neighbouring lHo-brag – a site of rDo-rje Glingpa’s activities – immediately to the north during centuries past. Smith made his assessment based upon the attitude towards Bon exhibited by the Buddhist author/compiler of the fifteenth century encyclopaedic work Bshad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu, who was himself from Gru-shul in immediately neighbouring southern Tibet on the eastern boundary with lHo-brag and adjacent to Mon mTsho-sna: The author of the Bshad mdzod represents an interesting eclectic tradition of Buddhism and Bon. Both are treated impartially, almost as two aspects of an identical religion. This tolerance was probably the rule in the border regions of Lho-kha and the Tibetan valleys along the Bhutanese border.219 In fact, we know with certainty that this author/compiler, the pseudonymous Don-dam sMra-ba’i Seng-ge, was intimately familiar with the types of ‘bon’-identified narrative content which form part of the basis for the Srid-pa’i lha cult. In his Bshad mdzod, he included what is historically the latest, lengthy redaction of the Grags-pa Bon-lugs narratives of gNya’-khri bTsan-po.220 But, we also find a section explaining his understanding of ‘teachings’ (bstan pa) he names ‘Suitable Turquoise Bon’ (g.Yu-rung Bon), as well as some identical verse passages which occur in the rare Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript and in quite a number of contemporary Srid-pa’i lha rabs.221 I will return to analyse the Bshad mdzod author’s unique account of Suitable Turquoise Bon and its significance for the history of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in some detail in chapters 14 and 16. I conclude that the uniquely tolerant milieu of fourteenth- to fifteenth century lHo-brag in the wake of rDo-rje Gling-pa would have supported the composition of the unusual hybrid eulogy to gShen-rab Mi-bo we still find used during Srid-pa’i lha worship today.

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A final ‘biographical’ trace of a gShen-rab Mi-bo with a certain g.Yung-drung Bon background occurs in a single Srid-pa’i lha rabs at one of the northernmost worship sites in north-east Bhutan. Like the eulogy discussed above, the text is an interesting hybrid, blending elements from the practice of a bon shaman with details that appear to share common origins with passages in the ca. twelfth century mDo ’dus hagiography of the g.Yung-drung founder. In the local rabs, gShen-rab Mi-bo’s male ‘ancestors’ (mes po) are invoked to ‘arise’ (bzhengs) as his auxiliary deities for a rite. This type of invocation is exactly what many Himalayan and premodern Siberian shamans have done when performing their rites, since their own auxiliaries are reckoned as their agnatic ancestors (see chs. 5, 7). Along with the invocation of gShen-rab Mi-bo’s proximate agnates, their wives are also simply named, albeit not invoked to ‘arise’. Then follow the names of gShen-rab’s mother and his siblings, all of which are simply added for genealogical completeness for they themselves are also not specifically invoked. Aside from some variations of detail – all typical of those occurring when memorised chants are written down – the genealogy follows most closely that given for the ston pa gShenrab Mi-bo in the mDo ’dus. 222 Another notable feature of this family portrait in this rare Srid-pa’i lha rabs is the sibling configuration. gShen-rab is cast as the middle brother amongst a set of seven brothers. The two sets of three elder and three younger brothers framing him are named first, only after which gShen-rab is described as the bdun gyi bdun tshigs and is named himself. The ordering of this passage and the bdun gyi bdun tshigs construction are identical to those used in the mid-thirteenth century Lde’u jo sras redaction of the origin myth of the progenitor emperor. Lde’u jo sras identified Khri rGyal-ba, who is the father of gNya’-khri bTsan-po in that redaction, as being the middle brother among the seven sons of Yab-lha brDal-drug.223 This is probably the older literary model for the sibling configuration occurring in this Srid-pa’i lha rabs.

gShen-rab and Local Social Identity The third gShen-rab Mi-bo figure occurring in our research region is far less powerful, glorious or positive than the two

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types presented above. He must be understood as mostly a product of, and reaction to, well known Tibetan Buddhist narratives that represent ‘Bon’ and bon po ritual specialists in pejorative ways. It is this negative image of gShenrab Mi-bo which forms part of the dominant Buddhist discourse of ‘Bon’ throughout the region, and in terms of which the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its hereditary bon shamans are often uncharitably characterised by those more mainstream Buddhists who do not belong to cult worship communities. It is an index of general ignorance about the very existence of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, that writers on ‘Bon’ in the region have only ever been able to repeat these negative Buddhist stereotypes rather than any positive, indigenous images circulating in different forms within cult worship communities themselves.224 All negative oral narratives about ‘Bon’ in the region feature the Buddhist tantric master Padmasambhava – or Padma ’Byung-gnas (‘Pemajungne’) alias ‘Guru Rinpoche’ – in opposition to gShen-rab Mi-bo or the ‘Bon priest’. At Tawang during 1976, R.K. Billorey recorded one of these narratives while attending the Pla festival for Srid-pa’i lha worship at Lhau. It can serve here as a typical example of oral stories we find throughout the region: An interesting legend...refers to a dispute between Guru Rinpoche Pama Jungne (Padmasambhava, the great teacher of the ancients or Nyingmapa) and Bon Tanpa Sherap (apparently Shenrap Miwo, the patron saint of Bon), each claiming superiority over the other. They accordingly decided to hold a contest and agreed that whoever would reach first to the top of the Urgirimpo mountain 225 would be the winner and his religion would be followed by the people. Next day, the Bon priest woke up early and riding on a drum proceeded towards his goal. The woman woke up Guru Rinpoche and informed him that Sherap had already left. Pemajungne got up and treading over the first rays of the sun reached the top of the Urgirimpo mountain just before Sherap. As Guru Rinpoche reached the goal first and Bon Tanpa Sherap a little later, they agreed that both would receive the offerings but the Guru would be worshipped first.226

A second plot variation in these local oral narratives portrays gShen-rab Mi-bo or the ‘Bon priest’ as promoting animal sacrifice and hence as a morally inferior ritual actor compared with his non-sacrificing Buddhist counterpart Padmasambhava. A third variant features a talking corpse story that demonstrates the ritual superiority of Padmasambhava over his Bon rival. The conclusion is always that the Buddhist lama is the victor while the Bon specialist is the loser. These three common plot scenarios of eastern Himalayan Buddhist-Bon competition narratives are all found in three anti-Bon chapters in Mi-la Raspa’s mGur ’bum or ‘Hundred Thousand Songs’.227 That work became a central component of the great cycle of Tibetan bKa’-brgyud-pa school hagiography, that gained wide popularity especially from the late fifteenth century onwards. The only difference in local oral versions collected from the research region is that Padmasambhava and gShen-rab Mi-bo – or simply the ‘Bon priest’ – have taken the place of Mi-la Ras-pa and Na-ro Bon-chung (and other named Bon specialists and followers) found in the older written stories. The bKa’-brgyud-pa narratives themselves derive from still earlier sources. This combination of bKa’-brgyud-pa ‘master narratives’ with the rNying-ma-pa saint Padmasambhava inserted into them is in fact characteristic of much of the cult of Tibetan-style Buddhism throughout the research region as we find it still today, especially within Bhutan. In fact, these sectarian hybrid stories about Padmasambhava and gShen-rab Mi-bo may not even originate in the research region. Michael Oppitz has extensively documented and analysed this narrative type, 228 and found that multiple variations upon the same Buddhist-Bon competition narratives exist in the Himalayan highlands from western central through east Nepal, occur as well in the Darjeeling Hills to the east, and again much further east in the Naxi area of north-west Yunnan. They probably exist at even more sites in-between that we do not have records from yet. Thus, the versions found in my research region must be understood as part of an extended eastern Himalayan phenomenon, the earlier roots of which are most likely to be found in southern Tibet. Within the context of the research region, it would be simplistic to view these competition stories of Padmasambhava

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versus the Bon ritual specialist as merely a form of Buddhist sectarian critique of Bon. In most cases for which I, or others, have recorded the contexts of their actual tellings, the stories are in fact mainly told to clarify local social identities. They offer a ready-made explanation to local communities themselves as to why, as practising Buddhists living in polities in which Buddhism is the officially favoured and dominant religion, they persist with the practice of Srid-pa’i lha worship commonly called ‘Bon’ and maintain its hereditary bon po or lha bon ritual specialists in their midst. The same narratives also explain why their Srid-pa’i lha worship called ‘Bon’ is relegated to the fringes of a ritual calendar otherwise filled with both Buddhist activities and rites for the cults of territorial and protective deities or spirits of the environment – all of which are anyway often heavily subsumed within a broader Buddhist framework with the lama at its centre. Thus, these narratives have an explanatory and a sanctioning function. Local Srid-pa’i lha worship communities have not been passive in the face of what has probably amounted to centuries of such negative identifications of ‘Bon’ within the socially dominant Buddhist environment in which they also participate. They have sometimes worked with the same type of originally Buddhist narratives, and turned the tables on dominating figures such as Padmasambhava, and, in so doing, reasserted their own agency in identity construction. One example of this I recorded in the remote Srid-pa’i lha worship community at Tsango in the upper Khoma Chu valley. Since this community will be the subject of documentation in chapter 9, I will spare any contextual detail here. The following playfully humorous story is in circulation at Tsango to explain the origins of their local hereditary lineage of bon ritual specialists and their community worship of the Srid-pa’i lha deity Gurzhe: Long ago, during the eighth century229 at Samye in Tibet, there were no bonpo ritual specialists remaining. Padmasambhava had bound them all by oath, and stopped them from practising, even causing some of them to die. At that time, Padmasambhava developed a large, ulcerated wound on the right side of his neck. He then performed divination to determine

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the causes of the wound on his neck, asking, “Why has this developed?” He concluded that, “Perhaps because I have tamed all the old bonpo by oath and stopped them from practising, this has come about? That must be the cause.” Padmasambhava began to seek a cure for his wound. While searching, he observed a small boy in the vicinity. This boy was the son of a formerly powerful bonpo who was no longer alive due to his being bound by oath by Padmasambhava. He beckoned the small boy to come to him, but the boy was very afraid and thought, “He is going to kill me as well!” Padmasambhava reassured the boy that he would do him no harm. Instead, he requested, “You have to cure my wound with a bon healing rite”. However, the boy had no knowledge of how to perform bon rites. He went and asked his mother, “How do I perform a bon rite like father used to do?” She explained, “The ritual cake (gtor ma) must be fashioned in the conical shape of the fir tree (wang shing) which grows at high altitudes. The butter ornamentation (dkar rgyan) placed upon the ritual cake must resemble the snow that settles on the fir tree in the mountains during winter.” The boy then fashioned a ritual cake exactly as his mother described. Showing his mother, he then asked her, “How must I use father’s single-sided drum (phyed rnga) and flat bell (gshang) for the ritual music?” His mother demonstrated how he should beat the singlesided drum and ring the flat bell, explaining, “This is exactly how your father did it.” Copying her, the boy took hold of the flat bell by wrapping its strap around the fingers of his right hand, and he then took hold of the drumstick in the same hand. While holding the stem of the drum in his left hand, he beat the drum and rang the flat bell simultaneously with his right hand.230 However, neither the boy nor his mother had any idea which rhythm was required to beat the single-sided drum and ring the flat bell. While the boy was wondering how to produce the ritual rhythm, a crippled Tibetan antelope (gtsod) with only one front leg came hobbling past on the rocky terrain. Its footsteps made the sound, “Teling… Teling…Teling.”231 This antelope was a rebirth of the

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powerful bonpo, who had been the boy’s deceased father. He had reappeared there to teach the boy how to perform bon ritual music. Instinctively, the boy started to beat the drum at the same pace as the three-legged antelope hobbled along, “Teling…Teling…Teling.” When the antelope walked faster, so the boy’s rhythm with the drum and flat bell increased, and when the animal slowed down, the boy’s rhythm decreased, and when the animal rested the boy paused. In this way, the reborn antelope father was able to instruct his son. Padmasambhava was there, observing the scene with increasing amusement. When he saw the boy beating the drum and ringing the flat bell according to the rhythm of the crippled antelope’s hobbling steps, “Teling…Teling…Teling,” he laughed loudly. As he laughed heartily, the swollen wound on his neck burst open and all the pus inside was ejected with a spurt. Padmasambhava was then cured although the lasting effect of this wound on his neck was that his head was ever after slightly tilted toward the left side. After Padmasambhava was cured he told the boy, “That the bonpo and their rites have been extinguished is not a good situation. The bon rites are helpful for curing illness, and some bonpo should exist in the world to assist people. The tutelary deity of your father, the lha Gurzhe, has been sent to Nyong La mountain above Tsango. Thus, you yourself should go there to be the bonpo, show other people the rites of your parents, and maintain their practice. As the bonpo at Tsango, you can obtain a tax of sheep from Dungsam Chali to offer to Gurzhe during the rites of worship.” This small boy was the one named Bonjü (bon rgyud, ‘Continuity of the Rites’). 232 The local genius of this narrative as an identity statement is its poetic inversion of the usual Buddhist prejudice against ‘Bon’ and its practitioners and the role of Padmasambhava, themes that are prevalent in wider, regional storytelling traditions.233 The narrative also must be simultaneously understood as a colloquial form of rabs origin account explaining the beginnings of Srid-pa’i lha worship. As an origin account, the narrative represents a tradition in which knowledge of ‘rites’ (bon) is represented as being hereditary and transmitted

between close male agnates. This strongly reflects the ethnographic realities described in parts III-IV below. As an example of local myth-making, the story itself is typical of many I collected in this area; all are redolent with often unique motifs from very much older narratives preserved in earlier manuscripts and other ‘bon’-identified texts. A few examples here will suffice to reveal this. Three-legged wild ungulates, like the antelope figure in the story, also occur in the old rabs preserved in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts discovered not far from the site where this story was collected in my research area. 234 The image of a large growth of some sort on a protagonist’s neck is also found in the unique version of the dMu-lcam Gra-ma origin myth of the first emperor given in the Grags pa gling grags. That latter text represents one of the earlier self-conscious historiographical works of the g.Yung-drung Bon religion, although the dMu-lcam Gra-ma myth itself is undoubtedly much older and has parallels in other Himalayan mythologies featuring a goitre motif.235 Moreover, the initial plot concerning Padmasambhava recalls a story about him also found in the Grags pa gling grags.236 While gShen-rab Mi-bo is not explicitly featured in this local story, the small boy or child is a recurrent character associated with him in many narratives, and this particular motif is not lost on those well versed in old lore. In fact, the figure of gShen-rab Mi-bo often plays a central and positive role in colloquial narratives of the origins of local Srid-pa’i lha festivals when such accounts are specifically elicited from informants during research. In these narratives, gShen-rab Mi-bo is projected into local landscapes and cosmologies as if he always belonged there.237 These stories are fundamental statements of local identity. As a representative example, I will resort to part of an interview I conducted with the late Ata Leyki (pl. 36) when he was aged eighty-four. This elderly bonesetter and ritual healer lived at the tiny agricultural settlement of Lungshingpam above Runja village, high up the Sangti valley of Dirang district, in the central Mon-yul Corridor. Ata Leyki, along with almost everyone who participates in a Srid-pa’i lha worship community, was a practising Buddhist in his personal life, and he performed Buddhist influenced rites (rim gro) for the patients who came to him for a cure. In the following interview excerpts, Ata Leyki was

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responding to my request for an explanation of the Lhasöshe festivals for Srid-pa’i lha worship practiced annually by a cluster of villages and hamlets along the upper Sangti valley. He answered without hesitation, and validated his own response by first telling me that this is what his grandfather (ata) had told him in the past:

In early times, there were epidemics in the Sangti valley. Due to many deaths, the population began to decline until only three or four viable households remained here. Defeated, these households were setting out to migrate to another place free from disease when they met a Buddhist monk (gelong) on the way and told him of their fate. He responded, “Where will you go? There is no certainty that the next place you go to will be any safer.” The monk suggested that at Dongshing in the Tawang region,238 they could find Bon Tönpa Shenrab. They enquired about where to seek Bon Tönpa Shenrab, and someone showed them where to find him. They went to him and requested help. Bon Tönpa Shenrab told them that he did not want to descend all the way down to their villages in Sangti valley because so many diseases of low altitude places were rife there. So, the villagers made a residence for him higher up the slopes of the Sangti valley and he went there. He asked the villagers, “What is the name of the deity you want to worship?” They replied, “It is Tong Zawaka.” Bon Tönpa Shenrab then told them, “Alright, I know the ritual that is required”, and he instructed them on the exact details of how to perform the Lhasöshe rites. The original name of our local phu deity, Ata Shabchang, was Tong Zawaka. Then Ata Shabchang himself appeared to the villagers in human form and advised them, “Perform the rites described by Bon Tönpa Shenrab. You will not have to worry since Lhasöshe will result in an increase in your dwindling population, and even your cattle will increase gradually in numbers. So do it and things will improve.” Since then, the Lhasöshe has been performed using the head of a takin, the head of the jun bird, and the heads of fish. Bon Tönpa Shenrab only ate the heads of takin, of the jun bird and of fish. So the bonpo who

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now perform the Lhasöshe must eat these meats as well […] The bonpo used to be from Dongshing, and Bon Tönpa Shenrab was the first. The chanting in the festival is in Brahmi [i.e., Dakpa] language from Tawang, because phu Ata Shabchang learned Brahmi language. Bon Tönpa Shenrab himself taught the ritual in that language […] The stone rest places (narang) for the clans to rest their baskets of tshog at the festival ground are to help avoid the tshog from spilling and getting dirty and to stop the parts of the muitang [altar] they carry from becoming defiled. These things all need to remain pure. Those stones have been there since the very beginning of the Lhasöshe, they [i.e., our ancestors] put them there when Bon Tönpa Shenrab first taught them […] [TH question to informant: Why can’t people drink and dance during Lhasöshe unless they do it right in front of the bonpo, or otherwise have a fine imposed on them?] It is due to respect. Bon Tönpa Shenrab was the first to perform the ritual, so the bonpo today are his successors and we have to treat them like we would Bon Tönpa Shenrab. When people want to sing and dance, due to respect they should only do so in front of him or together with him. This is like our respectful behaviour when the Dalai Lama visits Dirang; people are not meant to fight and drink around him. They should create an auspicious atmosphere and show respect, so it is similar with that.239 Obviously, the figure of Bon Tönpa Shenrab in these colloquial narratives still conforms very strongly to the image of gshen and bon priests within the ‘crisis and crisis management’ paradigm found in Old Tibetan sources and Sridpa’i lha rabs. Also, Ata Leyki’s actual style of answering my questions reflects a local epistemology in which distinctions can only be properly drawn and understood according to a correct knowledge of the origins of things and phenomena. In addition to valid experience in the present, one can also know something by connecting back to its beginnings with an origin narrative, by way of aetiology. I encountered these types of responses particularly from informants who have

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not been systematically exposed to modern school education or mass media, typically inhabitants of remote settlements or older persons who choose not to circulate very far outside of their village orbit. The importance of origins, and resort to them, is just one expression of a complex and much older way of understanding and articulating the world in this part of the eastern Himalayas, although it is one now rapidly declining in value with the spread of more materialist, evidence-based modern knowledge systems. At least in the context of the Mon-yul Corridor and north-east Bhutan during the period of my field research, there were still several domains of cultural expression which strongly promoted this aetiological sense of knowing via origins, one example being genealogical reckoning and the rhetoric of descent, and another being Srid-pa’i lha festivals dedicated to ancestral beings.

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R it ua l Speci a lists A n d Th eir Tech niqu es

5.

5.1

Bon Sh a m a ns

Delimiting Shamans

It is useful to have a common analytical description for a group of ritual specialists whose indigenous titles vary from place to place yet who all share a common purpose in the eyes of the communities they serve, and who maintain the same set of cultural traits that we can observe and record. The problem is, which exogenous designation best fits the main, hereditary specialists serving the Srid-pa’i lha cult? I elected to use the term bon shaman,1 and my justification for doing so is as follows. The term shaman 2 was comparatively borrowed into the ethnography of the Himalayas from materials originally related to premodern Siberian societies and their ritual cultures. It has since been set within a scholarly discourse of its own in relation to highland populations who speak TibetoBurman languages, along with a few of their neighbours. The question of distinctions between shamans and priests as two different but complimentary types of community ritual specialist roles has regularly been cited in ethnographies of Nepal.3 The shaman and the priest as two types – often elaborated into sub-categories – may be useful when they easily map onto parallel sets of indigenous terminology, and when representatives of both types are regularly present in any community under investigation. However, neither of these bases for a distinction apply within the Sridpa’i lha cult region. The localised terminology used to designate a culturally coherent grouping of bon shamans is too diverse across the region, while there is frequently at best only a single – and sometimes no – non-Buddhist ritual specialist present in most communities included in this study. Furthermore, depending upon which ethnography

from Nepal one cares to consult, those specialists I describe herein as bon shamans might be comparatively classed as either shamans or priests, or as hybrids of both types; the applications are variable, and often not provided with any systematic definition. The same is true of ethnographies for other highland regions of the extended eastern Himalayas, such as north-west Yunnan. The profile of ritual specialists within the Srid-pa’i lha cult certainly accords most meaningfully overall with traits consistently assigned to so-called shamans in the contemporary ethnography of Himalayan highland regions. Scholars researching Himalayan shamans have frequently noted parallels and possible continuities between localised manifestations within what András Höfer more generally termed ‘inter-regional shamanic tradition-complexes’ found along the Himalayas. They have often also extended these comparisons to shamans and their practices in premodern Siberia.4 Parallel with such findings, Homayun Sidky developed a cross-cultural definition of ritual specialists who can be termed ‘shamans’. It is rooted in both Himalayan and Siberian ethnography, and thus convincingly “delimits the scope of the phenomenon primarily to North and Central Asia and northern North America.” Systematic comparative studies across this greater region require such a working definition, at very least as a heuristic. Given the comparative context relevant to the present work, Sidky’s outline serves as a convenient point of reference with which to consider specialists within the Srid-pa’i lha cult: The shaman is a socially recognized part-time ritual intercessor, a healer, problem solver, and interpreter of the world whose calling is involuntary and involves

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a transformative initiatory crisis. His repertoire consists of dramatic public performances involving drumming, singing, and dancing in which he is the musicant. He has the ability to access ASC [altered states of consciousness] at will (without psychotropic drugs) and enters into distinctive modes of interaction with paranormal beings of various classes, as well as having the ability to go on soul journeys. The embodiment of spirits does not result in the replacement of the shaman’s personality or loss of memory. He has mastery over spirit helpers and uses that power for the benefit of clients. The shaman has distinctive specialized paraphernalia: the drum, costume, headdress, metal bells, and beads. Finally, he commands a body of specialized knowledge transmitted orally from teacher to pupil according to tradition.5 While most bon shamans within the cult can be matched with the key points in this definition, Sidky’s representation of the Himalayas solely through the ethnography of shamans in Nepal is insufficient to define them across that vast mountain region. Several significant caveats must also be considered to enable its application to other ritual specialists along the extended eastern Himalayas further east of Nepal: 1. While not completely absent, the notion of “a transformative initiatory crisis” was muted or unarticulated among the bon shamans I recorded. If anything, many informants reported an initial dream or dream series in which a being – a shaman, a child or sometimes a ‘wild’ person resembling one of the ‘tribal’ populations of Arunachal Pradesh – appeared to them with instructions for performing rites. If there was any crisis in this, it involved making a personal choice whether to follow the instruction in the dream, and thus accept all that this would eventually entail for the future course of an individual’s life. Reticence in discussing such matters can be explained in relation to recent historical conditions in the research region. For the post-1950s period, there are many local reports of both Tibetan refugee lamas and government officials publicly ‘demonising’ spirit mediums in communities across the region where Srid-pa’i lha worship is practiced, and this has sporadically continued,

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sometimes also in popular mass media, until recently. This issue is of course as old as our historical records of shamans and spirit mediums across Asia.6 The artefact of such negative social attention is that all ritual specialists in the region, regardless of type, generally avoid drawing attention to any traits that may associate them with spirit mediums, and this is somewhat relevant to point 2 below. 2. Continued reference to the vaguely articulated category “altered states of consciousness” (ASC) in definitions of what a shaman is and does remains unsatisfactory for various reasons. In many respects, unqualified use of ASC merely substitutes for an imprecise and now discredited language of ‘trance’ and ‘ecstasy’ in ethnographic accounts.7 ASC is perhaps best admissible only for describing indigenous ontological accounts where these are in fact available – and they are frequently not. Conversely, in the absence of indigenous ontological accounts ASC is inappropriate as a description of what researchers themselves observe about their research subjects. Beyond methodologically justifiable application, the interpretive value of this caution is already proven in the recent history of shaman studies. Earlier cases of prejudgement of data from Nepal based upon expectations of overt ‘trance’, ‘ecstasy’ or other purported external expressions of ASC have been revealed as simply ignoring or distorting the actual performance styles that we now know are typical of certain types of shamans along the extended eastern Himalayas, the bon shaman included (see below).8 3. The idea that the shaman “commands a body of specialised knowledge transmitted orally from teacher to pupil” fails to take account of a significant number of so-called ‘literate’ or ‘text-reading shaman’ traditions found along the extended eastern Himalayas between eastern Bhutan and north-west Yunnan (see ch. 7). Such shamans use an oral transmission in complex articulation with a written one based upon manuscripts. 4. References to “healing”, which are invariably prominent in the accounts of shamans in Nepal that Sidky’s definition drew upon, are only meaningful when healing is carefully defined in relation to indigenous concepts in any account. Most bon shamans could not be described as ‘healers’ in the sense of addressing health crises related to specific physical and psychological symptoms of individual ‘patients’

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or ‘clients’. However, in local ritual speech and texts of the cult, almost all the rites bon shamans perform are explicitly defined as ‘life-raising’ (tshe bzhengs) or ‘revitalising’ (sos, gso), described in relation to a whole range of terms meaning ‘remedy’ and ‘cure’ (gnyen, mnyen, bcos, sel), and so on, and generally ensure maintenance of well-being and health. Bon shaman rites might thus usefully be described as ‘preemptive’ or ‘preventative medicine’, albeit performed for the whole community and not based merely on individual patient demand. 5. Following from point 4, it must be emphasised that the social focus for the activities of bon shamans is not – or is far more rarely – any individual clients or patients within their communities. Rather, it is the whole community itself understood as all members of the clan or other units of descent reckoning (lineage, agnatic grouping, natal household, etc.) who together have hereditary obligations to form ceremonial groups during festivals. All this implies the ancestral beings that these communities recognise as potent and beneficent, and within the research region the bon shaman is indeed the main, and frequently the only specialist role oriented towards ancestors. This social focus is not within the scope of Sidky’s definition of shamans, albeit that it is frequently true of eastern Himalayan societies in which shamans are present. It is worth mentioning that the fundamental, communal – and often kinship-based – focus of the bon shaman is also evident in ethnographic records of shamans elsewhere in Asia.9 Much in Sidky’s comparative definition of a shaman, together with most of the caveats I have indicated, can also be applied beyond the bon shaman to other ritual specialists along the extended eastern Himalayas. To take but two examples that can both meaningfully be defined as shamans using these indicators, we can mention the nyibu or nyibo type of specialist among peoples speaking Tani languages in highland Arunachal Pradesh,10 and the Naxi dtômbà specialist of north-west Yunnan. Nyibu and dtô-mbà have been referred to as both “shamans” and “priests” in previous literature, albeit often with much ambivalence in the case of the dtô-mbà.11

One can always point to occasional exceptions among bon shamans, yet the final trait listed above (point 5) emphasising their communal focus based upon the clan or other units of descent and ancestors is a defining one for them over and against all other types of ritual specialists operating within the same social environments across my research region. These latter include various spirit mediums or oracles, ‘revenants’ (’das log), astrologers, hereditary village lamas, gomchen, monks and different ‘healers’ and diviners. Indeed, the bon shaman’s principal arena of ritual activity is the calendric, communal festival addressing ancestors and organised around specific units of descent as ritual sponsors and beneficiaries. Parallel to the question of the type of social organisation the bon shaman is always associated with, Caroline Humphrey once suggested that regarding the problem of ‘Shamanism’ the more relevant question is not ‘who is a shaman?’ but ‘what is the cosmology that requires a shaman?’12 In chapter 2, I described ideas found in formal ritual texts, and in local thinking and discourse, that define an enduring and divisible mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’ as life’s basis, with the sky and its ancestral beings as the source of life and vitality, the river course and water more generally as a prime orientation related to ‘flows’ of life, death and afterlife, and so forth. From among the diverse spectrum of ideas that contemporary informants use to understand the world and themselves, this is the specific set of cosmological notions and references they hold which requires the bon shaman. He is socially acknowledged within his community as the only ritual specialist able to successfully negotiate these cosmic orientations for the specific goal of achieving revitalisation. Indeed, his rites and mastery find their limits within this cosmology. For example, while bon shamans always perform one or other type of verbal ritual journey upstream of the altar at which their rites take place, and then upwards to the top levels of the sky, they never undertake such journeys down into any ‘lower world’ or ‘underworld’ sphere of the cosmos, nor downstream of the altar. The subterranean and subaquatic cosmic sphere and its denizens is totally marginal to the bon shaman’s frame of reference, while downstream is the direction of death where specialists dealing with

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the source of life have neither need nor ritual abilities to venture.

Sub-Shamans While each bon shaman is an individual ritual specialist, they most often work together with a range of both trained assistants and other designated performers. Examples of both are given throughout parts III-IV. Some of these supporting roles share many of the same defining social and ritual characteristics as the bon shaman, including hereditary transmission of their status, behavioural restrictions and special observances, costumes and paraphernalia, proximity of interaction with the Srid-pa’i lha, and so on. In a very few cases, they can also work directly with auxiliary beings in certain rites. I describe those specialists in assistant or supporting roles that come nearest to the bon shaman as sub-shamans. Despite many possible overlaps with the bon shaman, sub-shamans never completely gain shaman status. They do not receive full transmission of a shaman’s knowledge and advanced techniques, especially the ability to undertake verbal ritual journeys, deploy secret spells and, in almost all known cases, cannot work with auxiliary beings. The sections below provide an appraisal of who and what a bon shaman is in social terms, and how that role is transmitted over time. The chapter to follow entails a survey of their material culture, while chapter 7 presents six different rite techniques that are more or less exclusive to the practice of bon shamans and some sub-shamans within the distribution zone of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. In chapter 8, I consider the scope and specialist features of sets of other ritual performers frequently working alongside bon shamans during cult festivals, but who for the most part cannot be easily or at all defined as shamans or sub-shamans.

5.2

Social Status and Identities

Bon shamans are exclusively male. This is ref lected in the terminology used to designate them, and there is no

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evidence in either oral traditions or manuscripts that women have ever held such positions. This differs markedly from most other ritual specialist roles within the same social environments as the Srid-pa’i lha cult. It is possible for women to take on the roles of all types of mediums or oracles, revenants, Buddhist renunciants, and various ‘healers’ and diviners. In some cases, such as mediums, one can even locally observe a far higher frequency of female incumbents in such roles. When not actually engaged temporarily in their ritual role, bon shamans are all ordinary laymen within their communities, with everyday lives that differ in no respect from those of their peers. They enjoy no special status and gain no privileges, aside from general recognition of and respect for their ritual skills when an individual is deemed to merit praise for his shaman abilities. They do receive certain shares of the tshogs offerings (especially alcohol) during festivals, but often I witnessed bon shamans simply redistributing this share among their assistants after receiving it, as gestures of thanks and good will. There are cases of very modest payments in kind or cash to bon shamans during festivals for certain rites, with examples described in part IV when divinations are performed and people request additional omens for their absent relatives. At only one research site, the five villages or hamlets of the Khoma collective, did I come across a case where the shaman lineage has been granted an on-going formal compensation for their ritual services to the community. 13 And since that bon shaman lineage had to serve multiple village settlements, such compensation is hardly a surprising development. While bon shamans are specialised in one type of cult and its goals, they too require other specialists to intercede on their behalf when faced with certain crises or life-cycle transformations, just as their village neighbours do. For example, the daughter of an elderly hereditary bon shaman with whom I worked in far north-east Bhutan died suddenly during 2011. The elderly shaman observed the standard forty-nine days Tibetan Buddhist bar do rites for his daughter by engaging local lay Buddhist ritual specialists known as gomchen. He also performed a series of divinations based upon his own ritual techniques, to ascertain the cause of the daughter’s

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untimely demise. The omens revealed that his household had been the victim of a black magic attack, and moreover, a type of magic fetish was subsequently found near his house as proof of this. At great expense, the shaman then called in two mediums of some repute from the other end of the country. Both mediums were of the gter bdag type that has become institutionally routinised within the rNying-ma-pa Buddhist cult of ‘religious treasures’ (gter ma). Both lived as Buddhist monks at Paro in far western Bhutan at the time, and after their travel expenses to come to the far east of Bhutan had been paid by the shaman, they arrived and attempted to exorcise the problem from his household. There are several criteria for social recognition of a bon shaman within his local community. Transmission of the role to him, regardless of the mechanism traditionally favoured at any site, must occur with positive, public consensus. This is closely related to the fact that most bon shaman lineages are hereditary, and that a high social value is placed upon the maintenance of this type of continuity (see below). It also obviates any possibility for self-selection by would-be candidates, and this strongly defines bon shamans over and against other ritual specialists within the research region. By contrast, almost all other ritual specialists can self-select into their roles. They do so either by reporting claims to have had certain experiences (possession, visions, dreams, etc.) in the case of mediums, oracles or ‘revenants’, by voluntarily joining an institution for training as Buddhist renunciants, or seeking out acceptance by a teacher or mentor who already holds such a role as often occurs for various ‘healers’ and diviners. A bon shaman must also observe a basic set of behavioural restrictions and observances regulating ritual and personal purity, otherwise he will be socially unacceptable for his role. These will be discussed in sections below.

Ritual Identities While bon shamans conform to a specialist profile that is consistent across most parts of the distribution zone for the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the formal terms they and their communities use as designations vary considerably. The most widespread terms found in both oral and written forms at

the same sites include bon, bon po, lha bon and lha bon thod dkar, all of which have ancient roots in a Tibetan manuscript culture related to mundane rites dating back more than a millennium. Certain localised oral forms are also derived from these same old terms, such as habon used by some Chocha-ngacha speakers based upon written lha bon. These designations all generally define a specialist who mainly uses ‘rites’ (bon) to address lha beings dwelling up the vertical cosmic axis. We can be certain such terms have a very long history of use in the research region. The oldest locally composed written record of such a ritual specialist occurs in the autobiography of Padma Gling-pa (1450-1521). He relates that, when he was young, he encountered a ‘bon po who ritually served the lha’ (lha gsol ba’i bon po) near his natal village of Chal in the Tang valley of Bumthang region, which was an area of Srid-pa’i lha cult presence during my field research. Padma Gling-pa described that juniper had to be gathered for these types of rites, and that this bon po had ‘a text about ritually serving the lha’ (lha gsol ba’i dpe cha). 14 This description certainly implies the literate bon shaman of the present day. Another set of terms are formed by the word ‘person’ or ‘man’ (-mi) being appended to the most locally relevant cult referent for ancestral beings and life powers. They include lhami (written lha mi, oral hami in Chocha-ngacha), chami/ pchami and plami. The spoken cha/pcha element used by Kurtöp speakers, and related to a wide variety of written forms in their ritual texts, refers to a little understood but positive life force associated with the sky and known in older Tibetan ritual texts as phy[w]a. The spoken pla used by Dzala and Dakpa speakers is their term for the mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’. Due to a conceptual and semantic overlap between such life powers and the deities believed to control them and from whom they originate, the same terms are titles for the Srid-pa’i lha, which occur as Pla, Cha or Pcha in local oral and written ritual texts. Thus, for example, the general meaning of the bon shaman called chami in a Kurtö village would be the ‘man [ritually addressing] Cha beings’. In some worship communities along the midto lower Kuri Chu valley, the bon shaman known generically as a bonpo also has a title derived from names in the ritual antecedent narratives he chants. For example, in

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Gongdukha speaking communities there is a tenpa shenrab (i.e., from ston pa gShen-rab) and in nearby Chocha-ngacha speaking settlements there is a guruzhe ritual specialist (i.e., from Gu-se, Gur-bzhe, etc.). Another cluster of bon shamans around the Bumthang valleys and further west in the upper Mangde Chu valley are designated phajo (written pha jo). This is a ‘father’ kin term or respectful address towards senior males in the Lhodrak dialect of Tibetan spoken just north of the same region of Bhutan, but also used as a title for certain types of hereditary ritual specialists and shamans as far afield as northern Nepal.15 This background may explain its older occurrence as a title of earlier Tibetan Buddhist lamas in Bhutan, such as Pha-jo ’Brug-sgom Zhig-po (1184-1251), as well. Pha jo is just one of many such male kin terms applied to bon shamans and other ritual specialists resembling them, and I will discuss this point below. Another interesting group of designations for bon shamans are rare, being encountered only at a few individual sites or within small clusters of villages in some sub-regions. All are known from local written forms in manuscripts, so that their spellings and etymologies are unambiguous. They include mtshe mi, gshen lha and sgrung, and contextualised examples of each are given in this and subsequent chapters. Brief ly, in context mtshe mi and gshen lha are clearly the identities of the lineage ancestors of localised bon shamans and refer to beings invoked as their personal auxiliaries. Both terms also represent identities known from much older Tibetan language ritual texts. The sgrung designation is unique to a single site, Tsango in the upper Khoma Chu valley, where it is pronounced drong, and without any nominalising or qualifying suffix. At Tsango, the specialist so-called is in almost all respects ritually equivalent to the main bon shaman and can be thought of as a sub-shaman. However, the drong has a special role as orator, and takes the lead chanting in certain rites when the bon shaman himself remains silent or assumes a mere background role echoing a chorus with others. The oldest example of the written term I know of occurs in a mid-thirteenth century redaction of the narrative of the progenitor emperor, ‘[He] came from the lha as the lord of human beings, and for twentyone generations the underlying method of governance was non-Buddhist, brought forth by means of the trio sgrung,

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bon and lde’u.’16 Here sgrung appears to be an instrument of rule exemplifying oratorical skill probably referring to an ‘oration’, whereas bon and lde’u in the same context are best understood respectively as ‘chanted rites’ and ‘cryptic riddles’ or ‘’word games’. This meaning of sgrung reflects the much later terms sgrung pa or sgrung mkhan referring to the ‘bards’ who publicly recite narratives, such as episodes of the Ge-sar epic. Drong/sgrung may have ethnographic and linguistic parallels in highland Nepal.17 Finally, at various sites we find terms written in the local manuscripts used for staging rites that are not – or no longer – used in oral forms to designate any ritual specialists at the same sites. These include A ya, g.yang bon, phya bon, gshen po, rgyal, pha and bu. The telling evidence is that, apart from pha, bu and rgyal, none of these terms occurs in the mythical sections of ritual texts, but rather in short ‘instructional’ sections and asides, as if they were once used to address actual bon shamans at the same places. It is difficult to generalise about the above collection of terms for bon shamans due to their sheer variety and use contexts, and this in itself is significant. For most, the oral forms have a written referent in local ritual texts. For some, those referents are originally Tibetan and known from much earlier written sources, but for others, such as certain –mi suffixed terms, this does not apply. Also, one cannot simply ‘read’ backwards in time by equating meaningful elements in such terms with Tibetan referents, with the distinction between pla and Tibetan bla being a case in point. Moreover, some designations are parallel to synchronically recorded bon po, lha bon, A ya and pha jo terms reported for various communities in highland Nepal or Sikkim and the southern Tibetan Plateau region.18 However, what the available ethnographies tell us about these other ritual specialists is that they appear to lack a range of key elements in comparative definitions of the ‘shaman’, such as ancestral relationships with their auxiliary beings, elaborate ‘soul journeys’ to other spheres of the cosmos, and so forth. We are bound to ask why this wide variety of terms represents only one type of ritual specialist within a relatively small geographical region. There are several possible factors

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to consider here. For one, many specialists use designations that occur in their own collections of ritual texts. This can signal two things. One is that they consider such figures in the texts as actual agnatic ancestors from whom they descend or inherit some essential quality (see below). The other is that they model their identity in the here and now upon these figures who represent archetypes or precedents, and this is the very equation the ritual chants keep putting forth – ‘as it was when primordial lha bon X did it, so it is today as I, the lha bon, do it now.’ Both these points appear to have operated over a much longer period since they are expressed repeatedly in the core narratives recorded in manuscripts, but particularly in ritual genealogies. The variety of terms used as referents for these processes probably reflects a wide range of different narratives in circulation from an early period. I would assume this also implies a range of earlier ritual specialists each with their own manuscript collections, who migrated into the region and whose lineages settled and developed at distant sites. But this we cannot now document historically. A final point about references to bon shamans in local written sources concerns self-description. Few of the scores of ritual manuscripts used by bon shamans in the region contain any colophons. Yet, when colophons are present, the authors consistently designate themselves with the title chos med or ‘non-Buddhist’ (literally ‘without Buddhism’) preceding their proper names. 19 I never recorded the chos med title in spoken colloquial use among my informants. All contemporary ritual specialists and their worship communities observe some degree of Buddhist practice as part of the living diversity of the ‘ritual cosmos’ found at the village level, and when explicitly asked they have no hesitation to say they follow Buddhist practices for certain purposes and have a ‘Buddhist’ (nang pa, lit. ‘insider’) identity. It is extremely difficult to date any local manuscripts based upon their content or the occasional year dates they actually supply without mention of the sixty-year cycle, thus we are unable to consider how long this chos med title has been in circulation. Yet, perhaps the title chos med harks back to a time when Buddhism and the Srid-pa’i lha cult represented more exclusive aspects of or options for ritual life, when communities themselves may have been more divided into,

or identified as, followers of one type of ritual or the other? The written title chos med strongly recalls another title often preceding proper names in earlier textual sources from this same region. This is chos mdzad, which is an honorific form literally meaning ‘doer of Buddhism’, the regional use of which is attested back at least to the fifteenth century.20 Another ethnographic reality of the present-day which tends to support an earlier division between communities oriented either more towards Buddhism or the cult of Sridpa’i lha and its non-Buddhist specialists and practices is the fact that many village communities completely suspend the observance of all Buddhist rites for the period when a festival of Srid-pa’i lha worship takes place. This suspension is total, and punishable in the breach. It even goes as far as timing the critical dates for any festival according to a simple count of the thirty days in each lunar month, while consciously ignoring the removal of inauspicious days and doubling of auspicious ones in the annual calendar which is produced and circulated by Buddhist astrologers and lamas. Thus, during the worship period for any festival these communities may be accurately described as being temporarily chos med or ‘without Buddhism’.

5.3 Transmission Transmission of the high majority of bon shaman roles across the region is hereditarily governed, and this section is primarily concerned with that process. However, there are also cases of non-hereditary teacher-disciple transmission that usually occur in the context of community appointment. While it can occur anywhere due to circumstance, community appointment of bon shamans is most concentrated in the Khengkha speaking zones in Bhutan, primarily in modern Zhemgang Dzongkhag, but also occurs in the Mon-yul Corridor, and these cases exist alongside hereditary bon shaman lineages in neighbouring communities. Why instances of non-hereditary teacher-disciple transmission and community appointment occur must be investigated and understood on a case-by-case basis. Nevertheless, social history data suggest that in the Khengkha speaking zone it may have been a common response to periodic social upheavals or stresses specific to that area,21 circumstances

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which caused many bon shaman lineages to become permanently interrupted due to factors such as out-migration, displacement or deaths due to epidemic diseases. An example of community appointment due to migration is demonstrated for the site of Changmadung in chapter 10. Other contingencies can also be involved. For instance, at the settlement of Trisa in Kheng Chikor, the role of bon shaman for revitalisation rites which is locally named bon po was originally hereditary. It passed from its mid-twentieth century incumbent, Pema Raga, to his own son Chödup, and while Chödup had two sons, both studied Buddhism and rejected being candidates for transmission of the bon po role. One can note that in Kheng Chikhor, the formal presence of organised Buddhism in terms of monastic practitioners, religious centres and teaching is a relatively recent phenomenon of the past century or so only. Thus, after Chödup retired, the Trisa community opted instead to appoint an unrelated man, Bresang, as the bon po so that the calendric, communal festival for lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal would continue without interruption. Bresang and his successor Künley both received the transmission of lha bon and ’dre bon (i.e. apotropaic and expulsion) rites in non-hereditary, teacher-student relationships.

from among a pool of qualified senior clan males using a dice oracle, and hence there is no bon shaman as such during living memory. However, at the same site a set of hereditary sub-shamans who are intimately associated with the auxiliary deities do take a central role during performance of the rites, thus maintaining a ‘shamanic’ continuity of practice.

All cases of community appointment I was able to clearly trace with social history research date to the twentieth century only. They reflect broader processes of transformation coming into effect, which today are leading to the decline and cessation of the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself. Concerning the definition of bon shamans, it is most significant that community appointment results in loss of the use of auxiliary beings and the special rites in which they are invoked. This is because shaman relations with auxiliary beings are strongly dependent upon hereditary transmission. Thus, at sites where community appointment has become established, the character of the bon shaman and the type of Srid-pa’i lha worship he presides over have often become fundamentally different. While I retain the general use of ‘bon shaman’ for such specialists as a matter of convenience in this book, the transformations they have undergone do call into question their possible definition as ‘shamans’. There is one case, at Thempang (ch. 11), in which a ‘master of ceremonies’ who presides over each new Srid-pa’i lha festival is appointed

Case One – Somewhere in Khoma Chu Valley

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Concerning the more common hereditary transmission of bon shaman roles, my research revealed it is highly variable from site to site. This is not only due to the usual contingencies of social life, but also the context of modern change shaping the region with increasing intensity. To illustrate the principles of transmission that are important to informants, and their articulation with actual social practice, below are two summary cases of the predominant, hereditary form of transmission from widely separated sites within the research region. Certain informants have reservations about aspects of their biographies or family histories being published. Thus, in the accounts to follow pseudonyms in italics replace actual personal names, the generic ‘bon shaman’ label replaces revealing local designations of ritual specialists, and names of specific localities are supressed.

At a village in the Khoma chu valley of north-east Bhutan, bon shamans for Srid-pa’i lha worship are reckoned to have been associated with a single house for at least a century and a half. The building is known as the ‘bon shaman’s house’. Five generations ago, the bon shaman was Pema. He had no sons and only one surviving daughter, Drolma. When Pema stepped down permanently as the bon shaman due to age, the role was transmitted to his younger brother Sönam. Sönam himself had no children. Due to local, normative preference for uxorilocal makpa (‘in-marrying son-in-law’) marriage and daughter inheritance, Drolma assumed control of the ‘bon shaman’s house’ and its land. She was expected to transact a makpa marriage to bring in a husband. However, she remained single and childless. When her paternal uncle Sönam gave up the role of bon shaman, Drolma voluntarily stepped back as household head of the ‘bon shaman’s house’ and passed control over to her

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male cousin Tsering, on condition that the role of bon shaman be transmitted to him as successor to Sönam. This took place. Drolma then built a house for herself that abutted directly onto the old ‘bon shaman’s house’. Tsering was Drolma’s maternal cousin, but at the time, he was the only suitable choice for the role still within her family circle, and moreover Tsering’s own family had once had hereditary bon shamans within it. Tsering fathered a son, Dorji, who was trained by his father and eventually the role of bon shaman was transmitted to him. Since Dorji had no sons at the time he stepped down as bon shaman, his nephew Samten, the son of his younger sister, was chosen and trained from a young age so that the role of bon shaman could be transmitted to him. Samten is the current bon shaman serving in the village. He transacted a makpa marriage with a woman from another village, and moved into her natal household further up the Khoma valley, although he faithfully fulfils his duties as bon shaman back in his own village. The couple recently divorced, not amicably, and their young and only son now lives in the household of Samten’s exwife, where Samten’s ability to hold future influence over the boy remains doubtful. Thus, Samten began actively recruiting the next ideal candidate to become his successor from among his junior agnates back in his natal village. His choice was his nephew, the son of his sister who still lives in the old ‘bon shaman’s house’. This young boy has already been drawn into the minor role of the ritual assistant whose task it is to cut and gather fragrant shrubs for the rites of purification using fumigation. During annual festivals, he must place incense plants on the fire to ensure a steady supply of smoke. He is thus always on hand during Srid-pa’i lha worship and can gain full exposure to all the rites being performed by his uncle.

Case Two – Somewhere in Dirang District Along one of the local river valleys in the Dirang district of far western Arunachal Pradesh, a group of small villages and their even smaller permanently inhabited satellite settlements in more distant areas of cultivation are all served by a single bon shaman. The position has been maintained within the same family line as far back as can

be remembered. The former bon shaman, Ata Drakpa, who must have had the role transmitted to him approximately a century ago, is recalled in the community as having been a great bon shaman with a very long period of service. Upon his retirement due to old age, the role of bon shaman was transmitted to his son Karma who had been thoroughly trained by his father. Karma served as bon shaman for a full fifty years, and passed away during the mid-1980s. The bon shaman role was then transmitted to Karma’s eldest son, one of several brothers, all of who had been prepared for the role to varying degree by their father. When the eldest son who was the bon shaman passed away only a few years before my fieldwork began, no candidate for his replacement willingly came forward from among his surviving kin. Therefore, a large group of local families held a community meeting to discuss the question of transmission, insistent that it be to a man within Karma’s patriline. When approached, the youngest of Karma’s three sons refused to consider the bon shaman role since he was working as a village lama and argued that it would have conflicted with his existing Buddhist-related activities. The community then approached the middle brother, Dawa, who was already aged around sixty years at the time. In many respects, he was a less than ideal candidate for the role of bon shaman. The father of nine children, Dawa had left off subsistence farming nearly two decades earlier to seek a steady salary as a paramilitary soldier and spent fifteen years serving at postings mainly far from his home area. Upon retiring, he returned to farming and took up part-time paid employment working in the district township. During the nearly two decades of his armed forces service elsewhere in India, Dawa had almost completely lost contact with the local Srid-pa’i lha worship traditions which are celebrated annually in the form of a short festival. Furthermore, he had never personally experienced the strict dietary taboos essential for the role of bon shaman – in this case, no onions, garlic, chicken, pork and goat meat, and no food from hearths where these are cooked – and which must be observed life-long following transmission of the role. Dawa admitted he was highly ambivalent about having the role of bon shaman transmitted to him, due to his total lack of experience. He did eventually agree, accepting public pressure to maintain the bon shaman patriline intact. Dawa has

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three adult sons, all of whom have studied, with one living outside of the valley enlisted in a branch of active public service like his father before him. The son whom I personally met, a local farmer, appeared uninterested in the tradition of the bon shaman and knew no details about the annual festival he conducted. However, the son reported that the ancestral deity who is worshipped during the festival appeared to his father in a dream, and gave him some ritual instructions. This only occurred once, but it helped Dawa to overcome his own ambivalence about the transmission. Due to his lack of knowledge of the rites required for the Srid-pa’i lha festival, Dawa was given extensive prompting and support by a series of senior men in the community during the event I observed him preside over. Out of respect for the fact that Dawa had accepted community pressure to become the bon shaman, thus perpetuating the festival tradition, participants abstained from public derision or criticism of his often ineptly executed rites. These two cases demonstrate that descent is always the vector serving the process of transmission of the role of bon shaman. The strong tendency is for transmission to occur intergenerationally among proximate agnates, with an ideal preference for the direct patriline, but also from grandfathers to grandsons, as well as uncles to nephews. Thus, transmission can sometimes skip generations. Instances of intragenerational transmission between brothers can occur but are less common. Additionally, when all such ideal male descendants are unavailable during crucial periods over one or two generations, transmission can pass via uterine descent as well. This also means that the role of bon shaman is not only limited to one clan but can move to another clan via marriage. And where clans still survive in the research region, we indeed find occurrence of this. Although not explicitly detailed in the case descriptions above, there is a careful avoidance of temporary overlap between old and new incumbents of the same bon shaman role. Generally, an incumbent bon shaman performs his ritual function until old age or infirmity force him to completely give up practising, or he passes away. New incumbents never assume the role while their living predecessors are still engaged in any form of ritual activity related to

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Srid-pa’i lha. Death of an incumbent is the ideal guarantor that avoidance of overlap is maintained. This is perhaps why many bon shamans practice well into their advanced old age and are often encouraged by worship communities to continue despite their own wishes to retire from service. While not obviously related to descent upon first view, this avoidance principle is in fact bound up with descent when ideas about a bon shaman’s auxiliaries who are ancestral beings are taken account of. Furthermore, the cases cited above reveal transmission of bon shamans to be a pragmatic concern of social agency. In some instances, incumbent bon shamans proactively prefer and recruit potential successors from among their junior agnates. Where this is not the case, an incumbent bon shaman’s immediate family members can participate in managing a transmission, and in certain circumstances it can also become a matter of wider community concern transcending specific kin groups and households. As discussed above, community appointment of a bon shaman exists as a measure of last resort when a lineage dies out, or is temporarily interrupted, but where there is a strong desire that the rites be continued. In contrast to this social agency, informants generally avoided describing transmission in terms of choice or intervention by the bon shaman’s ancestral auxiliaries or the Srid-pa’i lha deities themselves. The idea of a new incumbent being ‘called’ by deities to the role is present but muted, while any form of possession 22 or ‘initiatory illness’ was never reported. As mentioned above, there are specific historical grounds for suppressing information about such phenomena, and they are likely more common than we are told. However, beyond censorship, other references and observations demonstrate that ‘divine agency’ can indeed be involved in various forms. A narrative translated and analysed in chapter 16, the Lha’i gsung rabs, demonstrates that the lha appointed (bskos) a bon shaman by way of a divination. The festival documentations in part IV contain examples of the lha’s desire for a particular appointment manifesting itself as ‘signs’ (rtag pa) in dreams or being publicly formalised through divinations (mo). Moreover, other materials investigated in the following section

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strongly imply that the ancestral auxiliaries associated with a bon shaman lineage are indeed considered to be involved in a certain manner.

5.4 Auxiliaries, Ancestors and Genealogy The set of features just described above, including descent as the primary social vector of intergenerational transmission, the ideal case of father to son, transmission via both agnatic and uterine descent, and strict avoidance of overlap between old and new incumbents are all mainstream features of transmission systems for roughly cognate types of shamans along the Himalayas and across Siberia. There are quite a few examples to choose from here. For instance, this is the case in Nepal for the bombo among the western Tamang, and for those ritual specialists falling within the ŋo:pa (or yatakpa) and makpa categories among the Mewahang Rai (and approximated in other closely related Rai groups), while further afield exactly the same features are also true for the bö among the Buryat of southern Siberia.23 Ethnographers describing these shamans were able to point to a common and named transmission mechanism or quality passed between generations (e.g., Tamang àyo, Rai sankhau and Buryat utkha[taj]/utxa). In the two cited Himalayan examples, András Höfer glossed this quality as “charisma” and Martin Gaenszle as “inherited priestly competence”. This quality is perceived as being latent in all those with the right ancestral disposition. It expresses itself under certain circumstances related to the need for transmission to occur, often triggered by an incumbent shaman’s death or incapacity to practice. It determines the possibility of a relationship forming between a potential incumbent and the ancestral auxiliaries of a lineage of shamans transmitted along a descent vector. While the presence of such an inherited quality is strongly implied by the whole set of features associated with transmission of bon shamans, especially when viewed in a comparative context, other evidence is necessary to fully reveal it. As will be detailed more extensively in following sections and chapters, bon shamans often invoke auxiliaries during their rites. These beings are variously termed bon [po],

gshen [po], mtshe mi, gsas [po] and lha in local ritual texts, while the terms are mostly specific designations for archetypal ritual specialists appearing in a range of early Tibetan manuscripts recording rabs narratives and rites. In Srid-pa’i lha worship, auxiliaries assist the bon shaman by being dispatched to undertake tasks, or by surrounding his body like a protective cloak to shield him from harm. They are often most closely associated with the bon shaman’s headgear and his main ritual instruments, the drum and bell, and they can be symbolically referenced in aspects of his costume. These auxiliaries are commonly invoked as sets (of four, five or nine) indexed to the cardinal directions, or as collectives indexed to the external surfaces of the bon shaman’s body at which they are defensively stationed. Names apart, most of these same features are widely reported for shamans elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas and across Siberia. The auxiliary beings are sometimes explicitly referred to as ‘ancestors’ (mes, mes po, mes mes), and frequently allotted respectful male kin terms. One particular practice related to them is the use of ‘genealogies’ (mes rabs) during ritual performance. Such genealogical texts are preserved in written manuscripts, and chanted by the bon shaman as part of his rites. The result is a complex invocation of ancestors and predecessors who are at once kin, as well as models for this role and source of the abilities he needs to fulfil it. Here I will cite an example of one such text listing the descent line of a local bon shaman, and then comment upon it. The example text is that used by the bon shaman of the Dakpa speaking Hoongla village cluster in the Dakpanang area of Tawang District, located in the northern Mon-yul Corridor. The text, simply entitled The Genealogy (Mes rabs), and recorded in a manuscript, was still chanted annually for Srid-pa’i lha worship at Hoongla during the period of my field research. It is essentially a list of titles and names set within a short, repeating formula describing a transmission. For convenience, I have extracted the ancestral designations and proper names and indexed them to generational numbering set within [ ], while the full text is given in the annotation:

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[1] [m]tshe mi bsDo-bzhi [2] [m]tshe mi lDa’u-bzhi [3] snga pho rGyal-po’u [4] mes bKrugs-po [5] mes bsKro’u [6] mes Gor-’dar [7] mes bsKra’u-gdon [8] mes Ri [9] mes bSang [10] (yang) bSrang [11] mes dPan [12] mes sPan-ma-’dar [13] mes Nir [14] mes rGyal-po [15] mes rGyal-’dar [16] mes Gyings [17] mes ’Dar [18] mes ’Dar-gyis [19] mes Rin [20] mes Rin-gyi’ [21] mes Nor-bu Seng-ge [22] mes Nor-bu Rin-chen [23] mes Gom-bu [24] mes Ri-sha [25] mes Bla-ma Nor-bu [26] mes sNgags-bcangs [27] mes rDo-rje Tshe-ring [28] mes Khams-pa [29] mes ’Da’u-la [30] mes Si-dar [31] mes Byu-’di’u [32] mes bsTan-’dzin [33] mes Padma sDu-ru [34] mes Ngang-’dzin [= Ngag-dbang bsTan-’dzin] [35] mes Padma dBang-phyug [36] mes A pa Bla-ma Hri-’dar.24 At least within living memory, it is known that the text records the names of real persons. The last named ‘father’ (A pa) Bla-ma Hri-’dar here, who is also indicated as the scribe at the end of the Mes rabs text, passed away within the preceding decades and is still well-remembered as the former

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bon shaman serving the Hoongla community.25 His role was transmitted to his son, Lama Tashi (pl. 47), who was the incumbent bon shaman at Hoongla during the period of my field research. Compared with the known, contingent ethnographic realities in the cases cited above, the Hoongla Mes rabs appears at first sight to represent the ideal of transmission via a descent vector: an unbroken, intergenerational patriline, extending through great generational depth right back to an ancestral apex. Thus, it is rather typical of genealogy as a social practice, in which representing unbroken continuity is the rhetorical necessity. Be that as it may, here we are not only dealing with a name list of dead human incumbents who, at least by colloquial report, are held to be related in terms of biological or normative social descent (even if the exact type and degree of filiation is no longer transparent). Each generation also represents the ‘ancestor’ (mes) from and through whom the following generation received the transmission. Thus, marked as ancestors, the names represent both the individual incumbents and the total ancestral collective through whom transmission passed. To appreciate exactly what is being transmitted in this manner, one needs to understand the names and titles of apical ancestors, as well as the specific language used to define the ontology informing each linkage. This is what will now be presented for the example of the Hoongla Mes rabs.

Ancestral Name Ancestors listed in such genealogies are not just a claim about the past; they assume an auxiliary role by being invoked for support during rites in the here and now. Such invocation is in fact the primary ritual purpose of chanting these texts. The Hoongla Mes rabs list first identifies a primordial or archetypal ritual specialist as apical ancestor for the entire transmission. The list claims one bsDo-bzhi – and following variant lDa’u-bzhi – classified as a mtshe mi (sometimes locally written tshe mi) ritual specialist as the primordial ancestor at its apex. These references all reflect some of the oldest discernable aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha

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cult. The syllable bzhi is a variant of the unique ‘ancestral deity/being’ suffix used on Srid-pa’i lha names, while the proper name element bsDo (or lDa’u) is elsewhere the ‘ancestral deity’ Tho’u (Tho’u-zhe, me-me Tho’u-zhe) who is significant in north-east Bhutan. Both the bsDo/Tho’u name and its classificatory suffix represent traces of ancient speakers of Qiangic languages who informed the origins of the cult (see chs. 17, 18), while the same name occurs to identify the ancestral auxiliary being recognised by other eastern Himalayan shamans among populations such as the Mra of the upper Subansiri River basin. Nyibu shamans among the Mra call their ancestral auxiliary being Doh yalu, with the term yalu referring to the enduring vitality principle or ‘soul’ – yaj yalu means ‘human soul’ in Mra language.26 In chapter 18, I argue that the Mra are probably related to the same ancient ancestral migrations as some groups of Srid-pa’i lha worshippers further to their west.

Ancestral Title The title mtshe mi is given to the primordial ancestor in this Mes rabs. This title has often been construed as a proper name by scholars when interpreting older Tibetan myths, although this is only true of a certain tradition of narratives incorporated into religious historiographies that were penned by Buddhist and g.Yung-drung Bon authors. This religious tradition appears to have been derived from or related to the content of the Old Tibetan document PT 1038, in which a certain mTshe identity occurs, prefaced by the term bon po.27 In a series of Classical Tibetan narratives, a Tshe/Tsher/’Tshe/mTshe-mi proper name became linked with a wide range of different sectarian and historiographical projects over many centuries.28 It is not to be confused with a separate and older tradition related to ritual specialists performing rites purely for mundane goals who have the title of mtshe mi. This mtshe mi title, independent of and sometimes parallel to the term bon po, and of different pedigree, is what occurs in Srid-pa’i lha ritual texts and oral traditions and is still present in living traditions like those at Hoongla. In these latter contexts, [m]tshe mi – literally ‘the Ephedra man’ – only ever serves as a descriptive title

for a type of ritual specialist who employs the Ephedra plant (mtshe) to conduct rites. At Hoongla the mtshe mi was ‘ancestor’ bsDo/lDa’u. This use of a mtshe mi title preceding proper names is very old in this region. It has been transferred from the southernmost Tibetan Plateau area from where the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s formal ‘bon’-identified content came with the southward migration of the Shar Dung from lHo-brag and gTam-shul into the adjacent Himalayas (ch. 16). This is very clear from the oldest known references to mtshe mi found upon the Tibetan Plateau itself, which we can be certain all come from lHo-brag and immediately adjacent gTam-shul. In the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts from gTam-shul, which are the precursor texts for much content found in the cult, our earliest reference is to the tshe myi named rMu-rgyal. In the narrative, this tshe myi is depicted as a human being who comes from a site called bSe-mkhar, and who attends a crisis at the behest of the Yar lord rMun-bu in the land of Lungs Sogs-ka. 29 These toponyms are all located in southern Central Tibet, while the bSemkhar one is intimately connected with the earliest discernable social history of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and some specific material culture indicators (see chs. 16, 18). The tshe myi rMu-rgyal appears together with other ritual specialists termed gshen, but not bon po. The next historical example of the mtshe mi comes from the late-twelfth centur y in Nyang-ral ’s redaction of the narrative of gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s descent to earth. This is the oldest dateable redaction of the collection of narrative elements that came to be called Grags-pa Bon-lugs (and variations).30 Nyang-ral lived for most of his life at gTam-shul, exactly the area where the dGa’-thang manuscripts were found. He identified gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s personal chaplain as the ’tshe mi named gShen-bu rGyal-tsha.31 Additionally, in subsequent sections of his text Nyang-ral also identified two chaplains of later rulers descended from gNya’-khri bTsan-po, and in so doing he first connects the term bon po with a tshe myi/mtshe mi title. These chaplains are identified as a bon po tshe mi Kun-snang and a ’tshe mi bon po ’Du-’phrod.32 The most explicit redactions of the Grags-pa Bon-lugs narratives were recorded again by writers from

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southern Tibet around the mid-thirteenth century in the two lDe’u histories. They are different from Nyang-ral’s account and appear to be a more direct transmission of older materials. They state that when gNya’-khri bTsan-po descended from the top of the sky, “the mtshe mi gShen-gyi rMu-rgyal-tsha planted Ephedra on to [the king’s] head”, or more simply that “the mtshe mi planted Ephedra.”33 The lDe’u histories thus provide the oldest known record – albeit an image in a myth – from anywhere on the actual Tibetan Plateau of the ‘planting’ (btsugs) rite which has continued until today as a living tradition of practice within the Srid-pa’i lha cult by bon shamans who claim a mtshe mi ancestor (ch. 7). Besides reference to the mtshe mi, all the ritual specialists related to gNya’-khri bTsanpo in both lDe’u narratives are designated as gshen and not bon po, which conforms with the pattern in the oldest narratives in the dGa ‘thang manuscripts. The same pattern applies in the manuscripts of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, where mtshe mi is a separate term from the generic bonpo used in colloquial speech nowadays. Ancestral descent from a mtshe mi claimed in the Hoongla genealogy is a clear statement that the original qualities and efficacy of the primordial mtshe mi are transmitted to each generation of incumbents. A crucial point is that the whole list of names is always invoked, thus the entire ancestral collective named therein is enlisted for auxiliary support. This feature, too, is also found in cognate Himalayan shamanic traditions.34

Ontological Basis Following the apical ancestor, the names of each successive ancestor in the Mes rabs are framed by a repeating formula written in Dakpa influenced Tibetan: mee X ku tshe las srid du ya’a,35 literally ‘[the (m)tshe mi] was extended through the tshe of ancestor X’. What this refers to is the inherited carrier or ancestral disposition that qualifies an incumbent as a bon shaman associated with the line of auxiliaries who are ancestors, namely the “inherited priestly competence” or “charisma” described for shamans in east Nepal and

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elsewhere cited above. The word tshe here must not be misunderstood; it has no semantic sense of temporality, as is commonly the case in Tibetan Buddhist cultural discourse related to ritual, astrology, divination and medicine.36 In all Srid-pa’i lha ritual contexts, tshe generally means ‘life’ as in the fact of ‘being alive’, but as a ritual concept, it specifically refers to the procreative power of males. Acquisition of tshe from the Srid-pa’i lha ancestral deities in the multi-levelled sky world at the top of the cosmos is one of the prime ritual goals for the entire worship system, and the local bon shaman is considered the only intermediary qualified to achieve this on behalf of ritual sponsors. Tshe flowing downwards from sky ancestors into a man’s body keeps him alive and offers him fertility for creation of new life. The same concept of inherited carrier or ancestral disposition necessary for transmission via a descent vector exists in the ritual culture of the Tamang bombo. The Tamang term for this is àyo, which Höfer correctly identified with the Zhang-zhung word A yu equivalent to tshe or ‘life’ in Tibetan37 – both àyo and A yu are in fact calques from Sanskrit āyus ‘life’.38 This is just one of a number of closely cognate features in the core traditions of both bombo and bon shamans.39 In the present context, an intriguing aspect of the formulation here is the semantic ambivalence surrounding the local variant tshe mi and the formal Tibetan mtshe mi. While account must be taken of highly irregular spellings in these local manuscripts, an older correlation between tshe and mtshe as fundamental ‘life’ concepts may be suggested here.40 We can conclude that the transmission system for bon shamans represents a strong genealogical claim since human descent is invariably the vector. Moreover, the agency involved can best be described as essentially ‘a family affair’, in the sense that it implicates both living kin and deceased kin who are ancestors. The system as such permits no room for the shaman to be any kind of “spiritual descendant” by association outside of or beyond descent. 41 Although this form of transmission incorporates modes of f lexibility, some commentators might characterise it as being further towards the ‘mechanical’ or ‘automatic’ end of a spectrum than comparable systems appear to be elsewhere in

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the region.42 There is, however, a clear ‘bottom line’. When descent no longer functions as the mode of transmission, the next option is almost always community appointment which neutralises all other forms of self-selection and “spiritual descendants” of any type.

of whom are the same as those appearing in the early posteleventh century sources just cited above – and their ritual specialists. Moreover, identical use of male kin terms features among ritual specialists definable as shamans and in their traditions right along the extended eastern Himalayas.46 I think there is more here than mere use of kin terms as status or honorific markers.

Kin Terms and Ritual Specialists Given the fact of hereditary transmission, and importance of genealogy for legitimating it, it is no surprise that bon shamans, some sub-shamans and the historical ritual specialists whom we can be certain were their regional forebears frequently have male kin terms as titles, typically including ‘father’ (pha, pha jo), ‘son’ (bu, lha’i bu) and ‘elder brother’ (A bo, A’o, achi). Viewed from a regional comparative perspective, this feature may shed light on much older traces of the same terminology associated with ritual specialists and deities conceived as ancestors whom they address. As has often been noted, gshen and bon specialists appearing in Old Tibetan documents and other early manuscripts (e.g., those from dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che) are designated by male kin terms meaning ‘father’ (pa/pha, pha bo, yab and pha dang yab) and ‘elder brother’ (A bo, A’o) or have a single pa/pha designation. 43 Perhaps wisely, most observers have avoided explaining this feature, with attempts to account for it being unsupported and unconvincing.44 The same male kin terms also designate sky deities classed as lha, Phywa and Srid-pa’i lha who represent apical progenitor figures in a distinct corpus of early post-eleventh century genealogical and origin narratives and ritual texts composed in Classical Tibetan, but certainly inspired by or derived from the language and concepts of the older Tibetan royal cult. Examples include yab sTag-cha Yal-yol, Yab-lha brDal-drug, pha dang yab ’Od-de Gung-rgyal, and so on.45 This same feature is particularly pronounced in rabs manuscripts used for contemporary Srid-pa’i lha worship. There, we find ‘father’ (pha/pha bo, yab, pha dang yab and pha jo) and ‘elder brother’ (jo bo, jo jo, phu bo, pho bo, A bo, A’o, achi, A ya) terms apply to both progenitor deities – most

While the specific case of pa/pha terms will be considered separately in chapter 14, I would propose that, in the aforementioned contexts, these kin terms are best understood as expressions of a particular form of ‘ancestral’ genealogical thinking. 47 The terms themselves reference perceived descent links between ritual specialists and the auxiliary beings who are also their ancestors, and ultimately, as well, a genealogical connection back to the ancestral realm of apical progenitor deities from whom the source of life can be traced, and with whom the designated specialist stands in a relation as intermediary. In fundamental respects, the older Tibetan royal cult encapsulates the same genealogical thinking and may even be closely related to its occurrence in the realm of ritual specialists.48 We are looking at a cultural pattern – or by now, the fragments of one – among highland speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages, evident across space and time in the extended eastern Himalayas and over parts of the Tibetan Plateau. It is a pattern indicative of what Maurice Bloch usefully referred to as the “transcendental social” when formulating alternative ways of thinking about “religion” beyond artificial category separations.49 If my proposal here has any merit, it might enable us to consider anew questions and speculations already posed on possible connections between contemporary, autonomous bon ritual specialists and a body of much older ‘bon’-identified materials represented in earlier Tibetan manuscripts.

5.5 Restrictions and Ritual Purity When describing restrictions on consumption of onions, garlic and certain meats, as well as the ritual avoidance of the dead by the hereditary lhawen (CT lha bon) priests of southern Mustang, Charles Ramble characterised what

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he called “early Bon” as exhibiting a “preoccupation with purity”.50 This statement applies precisely to bon shamans, who all observe several basic behavioural requirements, including dietary taboos, rules of avoidance, and personal cleanliness. These requirements are non-negotiable, and significant breaches or complete lapses of them socially disqualify an incumbent. In any case, without exception, all my informants firmly believed that any breach or lapse can lead to physical and/or mental illness for an incumbent shaman, possible shortening of his life-span, and a reduction or erasure of the efficacy of his ritual performance. Observance of behavioural requirements is interpreted differently from site to site in terms of their compulsory duration. They can be observed as life-long obligations, or temporarily only for the period of a ritual year or the specific month in which a festival is celebrated. Bon shamans who are community appointments often observe them only for shorter periods during the lunar month immediately preceding and covering the duration of a major festival, whereas hereditary incumbents tend to strongly observe all requirements from the time of transmission until they die. In certain bon shaman lineages, the sons and daughters of the incumbent are raised from birth with their father’s dietary taboos. This latter instance is mostly related to the clan status of the family since patrician clans in the region often tend to share the same dietary taboos as bon shamans (see ch. 11). However, when children observe their bon shaman father’s dietary taboos it is also due to pragmatic reasons concerning the functioning of the household kitchen.

Dietary Taboos To provide a regional overview of dietary taboos applicable to bon shamans, appendix C presents data from twenty different worship communities sampled across the entire research area. It also compares dietary taboos for four other types of ritual specialists in the same zone of the eastern Himalayas. Aside from expected regional

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variation, the most uniform and pervasive restrictions apply to consumption of domestic pork, chicken (and eggs), onions and garlic. Conversely, it is beef and sheep mutton that are universally acceptable. These food taboos never find mention in any local ritual texts, nor have I come across them in parallel ritual texts from the Tibetan Plateau. Moreover, local informants do not disparage the restricted meats and the animals they come from when discussing such restrictions. These customar y meat restrictions, at least, appear to represent a specific historical process within the region. When observing village life across the research region, it was always obvious that pork from domestic pigs is favoured meat for consumption. The same is also true throughout the eastern Himalayas where the domestic pig serves also as a common sacrificial animal. The keeping and the domestic and ritual use of chickens and their eggs is also almost universal throughout the entire eastern Himalayan highland region. By comparison, on the Tibetan Plateau to the north, we find beef and sheep rearing and eating societies, within which the raising and consumption of both domestic pigs and chickens is generally eschewed and associated with lower social status. There is no ritual restriction per se for laypersons towards these animals, yet a cultural one exists since pigs and chickens are considered negative and unclean for a wide variety of reasons – as ‘shit-eaters’, killers of many insects, diggers of the earth abode of disease-causing spirits, being symbolic of negative traits in Buddhist soteriology, and so on. The meat taboos for bon shamans and their exceptions in beef and mutton appear a conspicuous indicator that the ancestors of those who worship Srid-pa’i lha and their shamans originally migrated from the Tibetan Plateau southwards into the Himalayas. The restricted domestic meats represent conservative ethnic markers dividing migrants who were once beef and sheep rearing highland pastoralists from the pig and chicken raising hill peoples of the forested eastern Himalayan valleys. There are other indicators that confirm these points. In contrast to domestic meats, bon shamans have no restrictions on consumption of wild game meats. These

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are considered pure in relation to the lha, as they are on the Tibetan Plateau. Thus, game animals and wild meats are often central to the offerings used during Srid-pa’i lha festivals, and game meat – whether as tshogs or for a domestic meal – may be consumed by anyone participating at a festival. One can compare this with dietary taboos for ritual specialists from adjacent populations, as I have done in appendix C. The Sherdukpen zizi or khikzizi may not consume deer, while nyibu shamans speaking Tani languages are forbidden any wild animal whose body parts are used in their costumes or as ritual paraphernalia, which covers at least four to five wild species in most areas. Also, it is a ritual requirement that bon shamans consume some portion of any meat offered to the lha. By comparison, the nyibu shamans I observed further east were forbidden to consume the animals sacrificed during rites they presided over. While they do receive a share of the sacrificial meat, it is always redistributed to kin who are not shamans to consume. Concerning alcohol – almost universally proscribed within Tibetan Buddhist and g.Yung-drung Bon monasticism – it must be consumed in a ritual context by bon shamans and all participants at Srid-pa’i lha festivals festival. This applies to both fermented and distilled forms of alcohol prepared in the village by ritually designated brewers using locally grown grains, while any other commercially or externally prepared alcohol is unacceptable. It must always be phud or the ‘choicest’ type, which has the combined meaning of the ‘first brewed’, the ‘freshest’, the ‘unused/untouched’, and the ‘strongest’. Such alcohol constitutes one, major hospitality offering to the deities, as well as a medium for transfer of their life powers back to the worshippers in the form of tshogs. Once offered, all participants in rites, regardless of age, gender or rank, consume tshogs alcohol to gain these powers. It recalls again the fact reflected so well in the iconography of the Srid-pa’i lha and Phywa, that they resemble, and are locally understood as being like highborn or noble laypersons, who enjoy consuming the very best fruits of the land served with priority by the most pure and acceptable of all hosts.

Personal Purity Personal purity observances are essential for bon shamans. The most universal and critical of these is the strict avoidance of contact with pollution related to birth (skye grib) and death (shi grib) events.51 This type of pollution is regarded as being extremely offensive for the Srid-pa’i lha and the specialist’s auxiliary deities. For hereditary shamans, avoidance of contact with birth and death applies continuously for their entire tenure. The situation for appointed shamans is more mixed, with some emulating the standards of hereditary shamans, while others apply such avoidances for the month or so prior to a Srid-pa’i lha festival, and let it lapse again when the ritual cycle is completed. Many bon shamans I interviewed related personal incidents to me of how, when their own children were born or their parents and close family members passed away, they had to immediately depart their households until the house and all its members were once again considered free of any contamination risk from skye grib or shi grib. The same logic applies to Srid-pa’i lha festivals. If a birth and especially a death occur within a family from among the worship community, its members are either barred from attending a festival about to be staged or one in progress, or they are subject to special purification rites before entering the ritual space. In some communities, it is standard practice to purify every single person from potential skye grib and shi grib as they cross over a ritual threshold into the festival area (see ch. 9). If one departs the area during such a festival, then this step must be repeated when returning. During my field research, I often heard a general concern voiced about myself and my co-researchers attending what were normally closed community festivals. I initially put this down to the fear of bad luck associated with strangers of unknown provenance who might be morally offensive to the local territorial or environmental spirits, something which is widely documented and that I have often encountered. Yet, upon discussing this with informants it never transpired to be the case. They all cited potential and unwitting contact with skye grib and shi grib as the main reason for concern about outsiders attending Srid-pa’i lha worship. Moreover, at only a few sites in

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Kheng and in settlements of former Kheng migrant communities, I found that the local bon shamans who were married abstained from all intimate activity with their wives during the period of a major festival, usually for a matter of weeks up to around one month. My informants never articulated why this was so. I suspect it is done as an extension of the concern about birth pollution, to carefully avoid any contact with the menses. In addition to active pollution avoidance, it is essential that during all periods of ritual the bon shaman must cultivate bodily hygiene. Along with the other major ritual actors, he must perform scrupulous daily ablutions with clean spring water. At the commencement of various Srid-pa’i lha festivals, the shaman and his assistants will make a special visit together to a designated spring outside the village, and perform the first ritual washing, after which the festival activities usually commence. During festivals, the shaman and his assistant will go at dawn each day to the designated spring and wash at least their hands and faces, and rinse out their mouths, as their first act before performing any rites. These springs as washing places are always on the outskirts of a settlement area and often ‘ancestral’ in character, meaning they are associated with founders and founding events of original clans in a settlement, and their waters are regarded as the most suitable to use in relation to Srid-pa’i lha.52 It is often just after the first ceremonial ablutions immediately prior to a festival that the ritual costumes are taken out of storage and prepared or repaired, and first worn. These also must be completely clean and in good repair out of respect for the deities. At some sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, all bon shamans and their assistants even wear a completely new and clean set of cloths and footwear each single day of a festival. The chants and ritual texts used by bon shamans often explicitly allude to personal or bodily hygiene by washing. For example, in the Khoma Chu valley the bon shaman orally informs the lha by chanting at the start of a rite, “[I] have cleansed my face and hands” (kha tsang ni lag tsang be se), while their written ritual texts are more elaborate, “[I] have cleansed my face and hands. With clean being and clean thoughts offerings are made.”53 This requirement to

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wash hands and face before performing any rite is an ancient one expressed already in Old Tibetan documents and other older ritual texts. A narrative in PT 1285 portrays bon and gshen priests competing in their abilities to diagnose and cure illness, and in certain instances both types of specialists wash their dirty faces using glacial snows and their dirty hands by dipping them in a lake, before turning to their performances of divination.54 In these and other Old Tibetan passages, the expression kha gtsang literally ‘clean face’ is the same as that used in Srid-pa’i lha cult chants and manuscripts. The old Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript describes the ritual performers as being those whose ‘hands and faces are purified by washing.’55 While some behavioural requirements of bon shamans such as personal purity might be traced back to older models, all of them are found observed by contemporary shamans and ritual specialists dealing with ancestors along the extended eastern Himalayas, and this is the most meaningful cultural-historical reference point for understanding them. For example, the western Tamang bombo cannot touch any corpse, can never act as corpse bearer, cannot participate in any socially crucial mortuary feasts nor enter into the homes of the recently deceased.56 Lohorung Rai yatangpa have special dietary taboos for a designated category of foodstuffs.57 Ritual avoidance of garlic and onions is required among shamans and shamanic practitioners in the Qiang and Moso communities,58 while Qiang shamans of western Sichuan have exactly the same ritual requirement to wash hands and face before performing their major Paying the Vows ceremonies that are closely cognate with Srid-pa’i lha festivals.59 Discussing the Tamang and Lohorung Rai examples just cited, respectively, both David Holmberg and Charlotte Hardman linked such prohibitions to the fact of ritual interaction with sensitive and ambivalent ancestral beings, and overt demonstrations by their human descendants of a correct attitude towards them. This seems highly relevant to the case of the Sridpa’i lha cult since such restrictions extend beyond the bon shamans and their assistants. Upon the main days of every calendric festival I attended, the entire worship community had to observe restrictions. As the documentations of chapters 9 through 12 show, these sometimes overlapped with

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restrictions observed by the bon shaman, but sometimes also augmented them, including bans on all forms of productive work, especially farming and herding, any behaviours that generated loud noises other than chanting ritual texts, avoidance of social conflict and inebriation. These are always explained simply as behaviours that will anger or send the wrong message or impression to the Srid-pa’i lha, and incur their wrath or withdrawal.

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6.

M ater i a l Cu lt u r e of Bon Sh a m a ns

In the sections below, I survey those essential items of costume and ritual accoutrement for bon shamans in most widespread use across the region during the period of my field research. These include headgear based around the turban design, drums, bells, horns, ladles and manuscripts. Items of dress, particularly capes and cloaks, have been briefly mentioned in part II, and will be further discussed in the documentations of part IV and in chapter 17. All items forming the personal equipment of a bon shaman are in general not to be handled by any other persons, nor casually treated by the shamans themselves. I will give various examples of the taboos associated with, and special care taken of them. One common reason given by informants for these restrictions is that the items are used in relation to the ancestral deities whose potency is not only positive, but also ambivalent and dangerous. In this respect, such taboos augment those described in the previous chapter as related to a bon shaman’s personal behaviour and bodily state, and that must be fully acceptable to ancestors. For certain items, such as manuscripts, there are additional risks to be protected against. As was the case with the iconography of the principal Srid-pa’i lha and primordial initiator figures analysed in part II, the bon shaman’s material culture not only parallels representations in older Tibetan myths in many cases, it also ref lects ethnographic facts reported from the extended eastern Himalayas. The first and longest discussion below is dedicated to turbans and turban-like headgear, since this is undoubtedly the central aspect of costume in terms of both ritual significance and professional identity.

6.1 Turbans and Turban-like Headgear The word thod for an item of ritual specialist’s costume generally refers to any headgear, head ornament or covering worn upon the top or around the crown of the head (thod pa). It only designates a ‘turban’ in the strict sense when it occurs with verbs meaning ‘to bind’ (dkris, bcings), as one would bind an actual length of cloth around the head. This is the language found in mythical and historical sources to describe ritual specialists often designated as bon po and gshen, and most instances of thod referring to costume in such contexts have been translated as ‘turban’. This language is a legacy that appears to bear little relationship to all our ethnographic and artistic records of such ritual specialists, since none of them wear lengths of cloth actually bound around the head. They do, however, frequently wear headgear that is fitted around the crown of the head, albeit not bound repeatedly around it. One needs to keep an open mind about the possible variety of headgear thod might apply to, as well as the materials used for their fabrication. The expression ‘turban-like’ is occasionally used below to cover this ambiguity. The majority of both hereditary and appointed bon shamans wear some form of turban-like headgear while performing rites. The turban, but especially the ‘white turban’ (thod dkar),1 is the mark of the bon shaman throughout much of the research region. Moreover, it is a proven, ancient identity marker of the autonomous ritual specialist who performs bon ‘rites’ in the region where the Srid-pa’i lha cult

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exists more generally. The Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs antecedent narratives among the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts discovered in lHo-brag just north of the research region explicitly refer to ritual specialists with this identity. One narrative set in lHo-ga Lang-drug, the ancient minor kingdom of lHo-ga most probably based around later lHo-brag, features the lHo bon Mon bon Thod-dkar, while another story set in the as yet unidentified minor kingdom of Glan features a Pho-gnyen Thod-dkar.2 Across a wide area extending from the lower Khoma Chu valley, throughout the length of the Kuri Chu, and further westward across the Kheng region and to Ura, variations upon the simple white turban as an open-topped ring or wreath that sits around the crown of the head are the norm. From the upper Khoma valley eastwards across to Tawang and down through the Mon-yul Corridor, flat-topped hats of felted wool are most common, plus a unique local variation of the ring of material bound around the crown of the head at Tawang. Different materials are used in the fabrication of turbans, including wool, cotton, silk, fresh and dried plant matter, and even painted scrolls. The variety of these materials ref lects local availability to some extent, but is also governed by specific styles related to the ethnic environment and cultural-history in each sub-region.

Wool Oral tradition has it that during the past all turbans were made from sheep’s wool, with Tibetan wool reported to have been the favoured material. However, during the period of modernity high quality raw and spun wool that is acceptable for turbans has become an increasingly scarce resource at many sites. This is due to cessation of historical trade with neighbouring Tibet – once the source of high quality woollen cloth such as white nambu – as well as a general decline in sheep pastoralism, and a falling demand for wool in the face of commercially produced cottons and synthetics. As we will see below, the ‘woollen turban’ (bal thod) has the highest mythical and ritual status of any turban. However, in the strict sense of headgear being bound around

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the crown of the head (thod pa), the woollen turban is not present within the Srid-pa’i lha cult region. Rather, as can be found at other sites in southern Tibet, flat-topped hats (‘shamo’, CT zhwa [mo]) made from felted wool are commonly worn by bon shamans and some sub-shamans from the upper Khoma valley, eastwards to Tawang and south down the Mon-yul Corridor. These are of three types. In the upper Khoma valley, an extremely broad brimmed felted wool hat named the ‘Asha hat’ (spoken zho asha) is worn exclusively by bon shamans (pls. 55, 105), while in Tawang a very similar broad brimmed wool hat was worn by young male ritual performers termed bro pa who functioned as sub-shamans (pls. 173, 230). I will discuss the Asha hat comparatively in chapter 17 since its origins appear to be in the highlands of north-western Yunnan. The significant features of both these woollen hats are the special devices mounted atop them bearing feathers and other ornamentation in the Mon-yul Corridor, and a five-panelled crown termed rigs lnga in north-east Bhutan. The feathers are the so-called bya ru or ‘bird horns’, and their function is as seats for the auxiliary beings who protect the shaman during rites. The rigs lnga crown is merely a functional analogue of the bya ru, and both forms thus have a very high ritual significance for the wearer. At both Tawang and at sites in southern Tibet, ritual specialists and participants in Srid-pa’i lha rites wear another type of flat, beret-like felted woollen hat that is ‘mushroomshaped’, and which is probably directly related to the very broad-brimmed hats just mentioned.3 Another version of this hat has been commonly worn both in premodern times and still today for outdoor work and activities by laymen and laywomen across the whole zone of historical spread of Dzala and Dakpa speaking populations. While all the hats cited above are of felted sheep’s wool, this one can also be made of yak’s wool or hair. It consists of a round, black beret-like felted wool cap, ranging from flattish to skullcapshaped, and called tsitpa shamu in Dirang and ngama shom in Tawang. 4 The hat’s felted top can be up to several centimetres thick, and characteristically has four or five felted ‘drip-tips’ (pl. 36) hanging down from its rim to conduct away rainwater during wet weather. In Dirang district, this felted woollen hat, but with the ‘drip-tips’ tucked inside

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and out of the way, is also used as the basis for the same type of ‘mushroom-shaped’ ritual specialist’s headgear just mentioned. It is covered with a white silk scarf and colourful woven straps, one of which is tied under the chin to support it (pl. 37). At the rear is mounted a small bamboo frame to which are attached five tall stalks of kusha grass each together with a peacock feather. These five devices constitute the rigs lnga, with their five feathers being the bya ru for the auxiliaries.5 Thanks to careful historical and anthropological scholarship, we now know the wearing of ‘woollen headgear/turbans’ (bal thod and bal gyi thod) to be a very specific and old trait of ‘bon’-identified ritual specialists within a particular geographical region. It has a documented history in parts of central and southern Tibet dating back at least to the fourteenth century.6 We also have multiple ethnographic records of woollen headgear in various forms used by local ritual specialists with similar profiles at sites throughout the southern Tibetan Plateau and in adjacent areas of the extended eastern Himalayas between western central Nepal and north-west Yunnan.7 The wearing of woollen headgear by bon shamans worshipping Srid-pa’i lha is a part of this same historical and geographical distribution. Why has wool been viewed as the primordial and archetypal material for the autonomous ritual specialist’s headgear? One answer to this question in my research data is wool’s acceptability to the various deities who are directly associated with the bon shaman’s headgear. In the rabs chanted at various sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, the sheep’s wool comprising the headgear is directly referred to as the special seat of all beings whom the bon shaman works with for the benefit of the ritual sponsors. Such rabs relate the present shaman who chants them back to his archetypes and allow us an insight into the ritual centrality of the woollen turban. Here is an example of one such chant from the Tang valley in the Bumthang region of east Bhutan: As for the back wool which is the life force of the white sheep, In the beginning, it was spun into woollen yarn by the family, mother and son.

During the interim, it was spun into woollen yarn by the ston pa, gShen-rab Mi-bo. Today, it is spun into woollen yarn by the lha bon thod dkar. Those [deities] who are hosted, supported and offered to Upon the tips of the wool which was spun by the lha bon thod dkar, [including] The awesome patrilineal lha of the clan, and The awesome lha for conquering enemies, the lha of the maternal uncle, and The ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo, the thirteen Srid-pa’i lha, Yar-lha Shar-po, Kun-lha mKha’-ri, Ha’u Gangs-zags, sNyan-chen Thang-lha, and rTsib-lha Byar-ma, Brag-btsan dMar-po, and sKyes-bu rLungs-btsan, Rin-chen mGon-g.yag, and All the patrilineal lha, the lha for conquering enemies, and the lha of the maternal uncle, Guard the ritual sponsors and their fellows From the harm of gdon and gza’ demons above!8 The significance of sheep’s wool for the bon shaman’s headgear indicates several older cultural strata. One is very likely related to forms of high, arid steppe pastoralism, in which the sheep was (and still is) highly regarded as a vital animal for supporting life. We find use of the same term g.yang (also g.yang dkar) for both ‘sheep’ and the life power variously defined as the ‘quintessence’ of beings and things that allows for their positive potential in terms of increase. This equation is still present among Dzala speakers who represent the oldest core of Srid-pa’i lha cult communities, since their common spoken word for ‘sheep’ today is yeng. For the same reason, the sheep is the standard sacrificial substitute for that other g.yang-bearing animal, the deer, when the latter are not readily available for a rite.9 These particular associations are found in certain Himalayan highland areas where a shamanic tradition-complex occurs, from Nepal along the extended eastern Himalayas, including the Srid-pa’i lha cult zone, as far eastwards as the Naxi in north-west Yunnan. 10 The deer in this role, and the sheep as its parallel or substitute, recalls the term g.yang gzhi or ‘g.yang basis’ used for certain wild animal

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hides as apparel, both clothing and headgear, discussed in chapter 4. This complex is highly likely a legacy of earlier steppe pastoralist-hunter peoples who were once ancestral components of both the Naxi and various proto-‘Tibetan’ populations, as suggested earlier by Rolf Stein when considering the semantics and origins of g.yang.11

ï Plate 36. Ata Leyki wearing a woollen tsitpa shamo hat, upper Sangti valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2010.

The other association is a mythic and ritual one, and again probably reflects a more ancient pastoral culture maintaining a shamanic tradition-complex. Already in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan documents, the sheep appears as a psychopomp animal, as a guide for a person’s post-mortem ‘soul’ or mobile vitality principle as it moves between distinct regions of the cosmos and/or between different existential states; the ontology and semantics of such transitions are usually vague as they have come down to us. 12 As

we have seen already, this image is fittingly preserved until today in the ritual chants used for worship of the Srid-pa’i lha, where the sheep is the flying mount of both primordial go-betweens and lha ancestors who transit between the sky and the earth worlds. This unusual image of the flying sheep is also present – like so many aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult – in the ritual culture of the Naxi dtô-mbà. 13 The psychopomp sheep and the flying sheep representing ‘soul travel’ are symbolically equivalent to the woollen turban that

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é Plate 37. Bro pa headgear based upon the tsitpa shamo, Thempang. Arunachal Pradesh, 2011.

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the bon shaman wears to engage in the same activity when undertaking a verbal ritual journey to the sky. Both shaman and sheep are also g.yang bearing because they are associated with the source of life in the sky world.

Cotton and Silk While wool represents the primordial and archetypal turban material for all bon shamans, at many Himalayan sites today cotton, silk and vegetable matter are used as substitutes. In parts of Kheng, and along the mid- to lower Kuri Chu river valley, the turban is nowadays made from a bunch or slightly twisted roll of white cotton threads up to five centimetres in width.14 Often in Kheng, an additional smaller band of red threads runs around the centreline facing outwards (pl. 38). In some versions of the turban, an additional band of dark blue thread is also included (pl. 39) so that the three colours together represent the triune, stratified division of the cosmos (srid pa gsum or sa gsum). However, this latter variant including a dark blue band appears only to be worn by a small group of bon shamans in Kheng who perform both lha bon rites addressed to the Srid-pa’i lha and ’dre bon apotropaic and expulsion rites within the cults of territorial deities and numina of the proximate environment. In parts of Kurtö and the lower Khoma Chu valley, a turban of white silk wound around a ring of vegetable fibres (pl. 22) now replaces wool. These types of turbans are interesting for two reasons. The use of white cotton ref lects the easier availability of this material in the mid- to lower altitude valleys of Bhutan compared with white and red wool. Cotton was formerly grown in lower Kheng, and is nowadays readily available from India as factory spun and dyed thread. Also, the form and colouring of the white and red turban strongly recollects much older iconographic representations of the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo. Plate 40 is an illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig biography of gShen-rab Mi-bo,15 depicting him in a meditation posture. He wears a simple white and red turban around his crown, more or less identical to the thod dkar still worn today by bon shamans.

Plant Matter Another common variation of the thod dkar turban has already been briefly referred to as the zho dkar in the discussion above of the regional iconography of ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gurzhe. The written zho dkar, spoken zhokar, zhogar, shokar or shogar in northern dialects of several East Bodish languages, is equivalent to classical thod dkar, and simply means ‘white turban’ – where zho/sho is surely related to Classical Tibetan zhwa ‘hat’, ‘crown’. Such headgear is common equipment for Srid-pa’i lha worship specialists in the mid- to upper Kuri Chu valley, up as far as the last villages in northern Kurtö. This turban is identical in shape and size to the cotton varieties but made from the dried stalks of white alpine flowers that are plaited together to form a crown. The beautiful zhokar used in the same region by laypersons during summer rituals dedicated to local deities are made from fresh flowers picked high on the mountain sides and have a more open construction (pl. 41). They are just for temporary use. The zhokar of bon shamans in the same region are made once, then dried and stored together with their other ritual accoutrements (pl. 42) and reused during festivals for some years until they wear out. They are more tightly plaited, and thus resemble most closely the cloth turbans. Nowadays, at a few sites, the original dried zhokar ring made from white flowers has become covered by silk cloth wound around it (pl. 22). This is due in part to the durability of the new material, but also due to gradual loss of skill in plaiting the older style object. The final variation of the zhogar turban is made from branches of the pungent herb Artemisia (dungmin or neu 16 in Kurtöp and Dzala), the main plant associated with ritual purity in the cult of the Srid-pa’i lha in north-eastern Bhutan and in other parts of the cult’s distribution. During festivals, leafy Artemisia stalks are used in a wide variety of ways. They are burnt for fumigation rites, used for tshan lustration waters, employed as wands to disperse lustrations and liquid offerings to the lha, laid down in bunches to form pure beds upon makeshift altars and shelves, inserted into the roof beams to purify the hearth place during rites, and incorporated as construction material for temporary hut-like shrines or tents during festivals. Thus, the plant is

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î Plate 38. Bon po wearing a thekar turban, Changmadung, eastern Bhutan, 2011.

î Plate 39. Bon po wearing a tricolour thekar turban, Nyimshong, eastern central Bhutan, 2014.

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ï Plate 40. Manifestation body of sTon pa gShenrab, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig (inscription: ston pa gshen rab sprul pa’i sku).

é Plate 41. Rigzin wearing the layperson’s zhogar turban from the Khoma valley, 2012.

î Plate 42. Dried zhogar turban and other accoutrements of a pchami shaman, Shawa village, Kurtö, 2012.

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î Plate 43. Girls serving as pla’i lcam wearing simple zhogar of Artemisia, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. é Plate 44. Idu Mishmi igu shaman wearing white cowrie shell headgear, Anini, upper Dibang valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007.

strongly associated with the ritual purity the lha demand, and its use as headgear for certain participants in rites is hardly surprising. There are several reasons why Artemisia is so important as a ritual plant in north-eastern Bhutan. Various species of Artemisia grow vigorously upon open ground at the margins of fields, forests, and paths and on riverbanks throughout the year. This easy year-round availability of fresh plant matter makes it a better choice than juniper – the other important purification plant – for many purposes. Freshly picked Artemisia stalks are often fashioned into rough and ready wreaths and worn around the forehead during various communal rites or even while undertaking certain agricultural work since their pungent smell keeps flying insects at bay.17 In Srid-pa’i lha worship, the bon shaman’s ritual assistants often wear such wreaths

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(pl. 43), as do general members of the worship community. There is no evidence to say whether these simple Artemisia wreaths represent a historical development in relation to the thod dkar, although they are certainly a functional equivalent of it. Finally, Artemisia plays the same role in ritual among the Naxi, who are a possible ancestor population for those who practice the Srid-pa’i lha cult (see ch. 17). The plant’s use is but one among many examples that may represent conservative maintenance of an old cultural pattern from this background. Like virtually all headgear worn by bon shamans, the types of turbans and wreaths or crowns described above find their equivalents in those specific, local ritual cultures along the extended eastern Himalayas that share many other features

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in common with the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For example, among the Idu Mishmi, igu shamans are the primary community ritual specialists. Their rich corpus of oral chants and rites share many points in common with those of the bon shaman. A central item of the igu’s costume is a white headband made from cowrie shells stitched onto a cloth band (pl. 44), the overall size and appearance of which is nearly identical to the thod dkar. The igu’s headband is an essential part of his equipment and associated with his auxiliary deities. The way it is worn, across the top of the forehead, and angled down behind the ears and around the base of the skull, is typical of how many thod dkar are also worn. This is also the same manner of wearing the silver fillets usually adorned with a turquoise and wrapped around the head by women in the Mon-yul Corridor and north-eastern Bhutan (pls. 161, 163, 164). This regionally characteristic item of premodern women’s adornment had, like the igu’s conch headband, the premodern ritual function of protecting the vitality principle in the head and thus the life force and well-being of its wearer.

Cylindrical Turbans of Tawang The final type of turban-like headgear for bon shamans in the region is found localised between Lhau and Dakpanang in the Tawang district, where it is known colloquially as both shogar and jari. The former term is a dialect cognate of zhokar found further west at sites in Bhutan. The term jari was used in the higher villages of Tawang between Lhau and Seru, which was the old La-’og Yul-gsum settlement region. However, only a few elderly persons recall it today since Srid-pa’i lha festivals have now died out in that region. The word jari represents a Dakpa pronunciation 18 of the formal Tibetan ritual term bya ru or ‘bird horns’ found in Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts and ritual speech throughout the research region. I discuss use of bya ru as a special ritual device more fully in the section on palo in chapter 7, and in the documentation in chapters 9, 11 and 12, as well as in chapter 17. For now, it is enough to know that the term refers to a talismanic feather placed upon the top of the head or headgear, and one directly related to protection of the mobile vitality principle.

The jari and shogar are best described as being turban-like in that they basically form a band of one type or another worn around the crown of the head. Both are of simple tubular or cylindrical form (pl. 45), more like the types of tall hats one refers to as pillbox or torque in the West, this latter word designating the tall white, cylindrical hats worn by professional chefs. Both the jari and shogar have a woven, circular basket-like bamboo frame as the base, which is worn around the forehead just as all the other turbans are, and around this is wrapped an external cloth covering in a cylindrical form. While the top of the jari is open to the air, the top of the shogar is covered over. In the case of the jari, the outer cylindrical covering was made from a painted scroll wrapped around the circular frame. The jari is completed by a bunch of long kusha grass strands and three peacock tail feathers affixed to the centre of the supporting frame and rising vertically out from the top of the cylindrical covering to effectively double the overall height of the hat (pl. 45). The peacock feathers themselves constitute the actual bya ru or ‘bird horns’, and their use is also reflected in premodern everyday headgear from the Tawang region. 19 Peacocks are typical of the gallinaceous bird species, including various wild fowl, grouse and pheasants, with high symbolic value in many shamanic tradition complexes. The painted scrolls depict the three-tiered sa gsum cosmos with the three main ancestral pho lha deities who descend from the sky to be worshipped at Pla festivals, and the mythical khyung bird in the centre, together with a whole pantheon of minor local beings who are subordinate to them, plus various auspicious symbols (pl. 46). Together, these paintings reflect the hybrid milieu of village ritual and religious life at Lhau, in which the Srid-pa’i lha cult existed alongside Buddhist activity under the auspices of both the rNying-ma-pa and dGe-lugs-pa schools. The last bon shamans at Lhau who wore the jari passed away during the late 1990s, and the Pla festivals they presided over were discontinued. While several jari painted scrolls remained intact in family collections in shaman lineage households at the time of my research (pl. 46), they were little understood by those presiding over the patrimony of the deceased shamans. Some informants recalled

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é Plate 46. Painted scroll used for the jari hats of the Lhau bon po, Tawang, 2011. ê Plate 45. Bon po at the Pla festival wearing jari hats, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

that when the jari were dismantled after each Pla festival, the same scrolls were also employed in other rites. For example, when a pair of brothers divided a plot of inherited land into two separate fields, the bon shaman would circumambulate each new field with the scrolls to ensure the equal fertility of both divisions. From a functional perspective, one might consider the painted scrolls on the jari as a sort of local substitute for or equivalent of a rigs lnga crown, since both graphically present a pantheon that is significant in the actual rites performed by the shamans who wear them. The shogar used in Dakpanang has the same basic construction as the jari, yet with only half the height and no illustrations of deities. It is finished with a closed top. Its cloth cover is of plain, locally woven material, with a coloured band around the lower rim (pl. 47). The closed top is important, since at certain points in the rites for the Srid-pa’i lha, offerings of plain cooked rice for the deities are placed directly

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atop the shogar while the priest is still wearing it, as if it were an altar (pls. 48, 49). The shogar and the jari both strongly resemble the form of morphologically related cylindrical hats found worn by men and women 20 throughout the Mon-yul Corridor from north to south, albeit fashioned from different materials related to local ecological conditions. Among male hats, those made from bamboo and worn by men in Bugun and Aka societies further south in the Mon-yul corridor (pls. 50, 51), and also by Miji men further east, are of most interest. These hats, reported with the name musarga among the Aka and muwai-reguwai among the Bugun,21 were first recorded from the area during the mid-nineteenth century. The Pandit Nain Singh encountered a party of “Lhoba” who were collecting tribute payments at the village of Lih (i.e., today’s Lish) in Dirang region. As part of his description of these Lhoba men, he noted, “They wore cylindrical-shaped hats made of bamboo”.22

If we just focus upon the cylindrical form of all these headgears worn by the southern Mon-yul Corridor populations and by the bon shamans of Tawang, the form is unique to this eastern Himalayan region alone. And since no other bon shamans or cognate ritual specialists from the Tibetan Plateau wear anything like these hats, they must represent a development within the cultural history of this specific multi-ethnic environment. If, however, we focus upon the symbolic devices related to birds which define the jari or bya ru, then we encounter a pan-eastern Himalayan cultural pattern. Aka ritual specialists wear the same type of cylindrical hats but covered with animal skin and the head, beak and feathers of a bird, in most cases an eagle or closely related bird of prey, mounted on top (pl. 52). 23 In Aka language, the name musarga for the cylindrical hat appears etymologically related to the word for ‘bird’ (musu).24 Along the Himalayas eastwards of the research region, hats and headdresses adorned with the feathers and beaks of birds are also found worn by nyibu shamans from populations speaking Tani languages further east into the Kamla

î Plate 48. Offerings being made directly on top of the shogar hat worn by the bon po of Hoongla, Tawang, ca. 2005.

î Plate 49. Offerings on top of the shogar hat worn by the bon po of Hoongla, Tawang, ca. 2005. é Plate 47. The shogar turban worn by the bon po of Hoongla, Tawang, 2012.

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ï Plate 50. Bugun man wearing the muwai-reguwai hat, West Kameng, 1980. é Plate 51. Young Aka men wearing the musarga hat, West Kameng, 1968. î Plate 52. Aka mugou ritual specialist wearing the musarga hat, West Kameng, 1959. 2 Plate 53. Nyibu shaman with bird feather headdress, upper Subansiri River, Bya-smad, southern Tibet, 1936. 3 Plate 54. Nyibu shaman with bird feather headdress, Ngoju, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2004.

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and Subansiri River valley systems (pls. 53, 54). For these nyibu priests, the bird represents a protective auxiliary spirit. It is related to the flight the nyibu or their auxiliaries undertake to the land of the spirits or the land of the dead during verbal ritual journeys. Further westwards along the Himalayas, from Sikkim through to west Nepal, we find a range of shamans with similar ritual functions involving verbal ritual journeys to realms of spirits and dead ancestors wearing turbans or turban-like headgear, including feathers as an important accessory.25 Conceptually, these combinations of form, symbol and ritual function in shaman’s headgear both east and west of the research region are most closely related to the jari of Tawang. In the analysis of the messenger bat as a mythical initiator figure above, I already described how the garments of bon shamans in some areas specifically incorporate morphological features of the bat as a classificatory ‘bird’. Parallel with this, bird garments and accoutrements are also commonly worn upon the bodies of Himalayan shamans both to the east and west of the research region.26 Like the bon shaman, many of these other shamans must also ‘fly’ in one way or another to undertake their ritual missions. This entire symbolic and material complex in which shaman costumes are intimately associated with birds and bird auxiliaries is of course one emblematic feature from shamanic tradition complexes in north Asia. 27

Hair Tuff Accessories Bon shamans at Tsango in the upper Khoma valley wear a type of woollen headgear called the ‘Asha hat’ (zho asha). While I discuss the Asha hat comparatively in chapter 17, one of its noteworthy features is the incorporation of a large tuft of dyed yak’s tail hair affixed to the brim at the rear (pl. 55). Such tufts of yak’s hair, and sometimes matted and felted wool or hair ‘tails’, often in the form of ‘dreadlocks’, are incorporated especially at the rear of the headgear of shamans documented from central and west Nepal 28 as far as the Mishmi Hills of eastern Arunachal Pradesh (pl. 56). In all known cases, these hair or wool tufts, tassels and dreadlocks are associated with, and form points

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ï Plate 55. Dyed yak hair tufts worn at the rear of the Asha hat of a drung ritual specialist, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

é Plate 56. Dyed yak hair tufts hanging from the headpiece of an Idu Mishmi igu shaman, Anini, upper Dibang valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007.

î Plate 57. Dyed goat hair tassels worn by bro pa performers during a Lhasöshe festival, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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of attachment or entry for the shaman’s auxiliary deities, in the same way as do the feathers, bird body parts and other devices also attached to such headgear. An interesting migration of this hair tuft from the headgear onto the shoulders of a bon shaman’s garment is found to have occurred throughout the historical zone of Dakpa and Dzala speaking worship communities between the Khoma Chu valley in north-east Bhutan and Dirang in the Mon-yul Corridor. At both of my study sites of Thempang (ch. 11) and Lhau (ch. 12), male sub-shamans termed bro pa or lha’i bu wore elaborate shoulder capes as central features of their ritual costumes. The same capes were reported by elderly eye-witnesses as having once been used some fifty years ago by lha’i bu at Tsango in the Khoma Chu valley, then abandoned. At Thempang, the bro pa or lha’i bu are the main hereditary ritual specialists who function as the direct intermediaries with the lha during Lhasöshe festivals, while during the defunct Pla at Lhau their role was similar alongside the bon po. The cape at all these sites features a band across the shoulders from which a row of long tassels of goat hair hang down (pl. 57). These tassels are dyed in a range of different colours. In the Thempang rabs manuscript, this garment’s description or name means something like ‘patterned shoulder cape for welcoming/receiving’ (bsu ba’i rgyab ris). 29 It is the lha and the auxiliaries who are being ‘welcomed/received’ onto this tassel accessory added to the shoulders of the garment.

bird symbolism so prevalent among other shamans along the whole extended eastern Himalayas. Secondly, in most instances the turban or headgear is believed to be in some manner or other the seat of both the Srid-pa’ lha and the bon shaman’s auxiliary deities, or it represents them and their powers. This is often displayed on the headgear in the form of images. They can include the five illustrated panels on the rigs lnga crown, and the painted pantheons on the jari scroll, or talismanic devices, such as the bya ru feathers and the hair or wool tuff, while the headgear itself can even have offerings placed directly upon it like an altar. All of this relates to a central and unanimous representation offered by bon shamans about the intimate connection between their own bodies and the auxiliary beings and lha they interact with. It is said that the Srid-pa’i lha travel down from the sky world during the vertical ritual journey seated upon the head, neck, shoulders and upper back of the bon shaman, and they are often said to hold onto or be supported by his headgear. There is an evocative line in a ritual manual from Lawa that is chanted by the local plami shaman as he entices the female A-bu Yumgsum deities down via each of the levels of the sky world. Just as they are about to descend, the shaman calls to the deities, “Yum-gsum Gra-ba, come to the crown of the head of the A ya bon po!”30 Bhutanese researcher Dorji Penjore cited a local text written by a bon po who worships the Sridpa’i lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal at Wamling in Kheng, and which ends with these lines personally inviting the deity to mount and ride (bzhon) him:

Seat of the Deities Summarising all the data on the turbans and turban-like headgear and hair tuft and tassel accessories of bon shamans throughout the research region, several points are of central relevance. Firstly, most styles of headgear involved and all of their names can be directly related back to much earlier Tibetan descriptions of mythical and historical ritual specialists and their techniques, as well as to some cognate contemporary ritual specialists reported from across the southern Tibetan Plateau. By contrast, nowadays only one form of bon shamans’ headgear has a direct link with the

The lha who is served dried fish and dried meat, He is the lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. He is the lha whom I, myself, serve. Mount my right shoulder and be seated. Mount my left shoulder and be seated. Come, riding atop my – the bon po’s – head.31 All of this conforms to a much wider cultural pattern evident among highland societies speaking Tibeto-Burman languages who participate in the various inter-regional shamanic tradition-complexes along the extended eastern

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Himalayas, from Nepal to Yunnan. The head, along with the shoulders, and partly also upper back, are invariably the areas of the shaman’s body most directly associated with deities.32 In Tibetan Plateau societies and their cultural-historical extensions into high Himalayan areas, the head and shoulders, and sometimes armpits, are the abodes of a person’s principal innate patron deities (’go ba’i lha). One can also recall here a no doubt related notion held by most local spirit mediums (e.g., jo mo, dpa’ bo/-mo, yumin, etc.) within the research region: they use the word jab or gyab, literally meaning the ‘back’ or ‘behind’ (cf. CT rgyab), when speaking of becoming possessed by a deity. The direct connection between deities and shamans by way of their headgear means it is the most ritually important aspect of their overall costume. The headgear has also long remained one of the strongest markers of their professional identity. The headgear can even directly represent the shaman himself. At some sites, when a bon shaman is absent during a festival, a stick representing his body is implanted into the ground at the spot where he would normally be positioned at an altar, with his headgear mounted on top of this as a substitute for his actual presence (see ch. 18).

6.2 Ritual Accoutrements While bon shamans use various temporary items quickly fashioned from local materials during major festivals, they also possess a small set of permanent accoutrements which they inherent from their lineage forebears or previous incumbents of their positions. Some of these accoutrements can often be found listed when the main activities of the bon shaman are represented in ideal form within the rabs narratives themselves. For example, it is typically mentioned in rabs that the bon po beats the drum, rings the flat bell, waves aloft the white flag, blows the horn or conch trumpet, sings and performs bro steps, and chants melodiously to interact with the lha during Lha bon rites.33 In reality, such permanent accoutrements most often include the shaman’s ritual manuscripts, musical instruments – namely drums, bells, horns or trumpets – and one or two simple implements such as ladles, sceptres or staffs of

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different kinds, and very occasionally swords. In only three of the more than seventy known worship communities surveyed, I also recorded possession of small scroll paintings depicting Srid-pa’i lha icons that were used during rites. Here the bon shaman’s drum, bell, horn, conch trumpet, ladle and manuscripts will be described.

Drums Drums, along with bells and horns described below, are only used for rites in which the chants directly invoke the Srid-pa’i lha deities and/or the bon shaman’s auxiliaries. The use of hand-held drums by ritual specialists is known from across the northern distribution zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship, while none were recorded in the southern zone. However, drum use has virtually died out within the period of living memory. Playing of drums is frequently mentioned in the rabs narratives themselves. The actual use of drums during rites by bon shamans was still recalled by elderly eyewitnesses during my field research. I found only one living pha jo specialist who still used a handheld drum for Sridpa’i lha rites, and I saw one drum belonging to a deceased bon shaman being kept in storage. The confirmed areas of actual drum use for Srid-pa’i lha rites are restricted mainly to north-eastern Bhutan. The sites include Bumdeling in the upper Kholong Chu valley, both Tsango and Lawa along the Khoma Chu valley, and Bumthang in the upper Tang valley, plus one isolated report from Ura, as well as several more from central Bhutan.34 Eye-witness accounts of the recent past are indeed confirmed by the presence of instructions for drum playing found in local ritual texts at all the Sridpa’i lha worship communities just cited. For example, in the written chants at Lawa for invoking the bon shaman’s auxiliaries, they are explicitly prompted to ‘Arise on the drum! Arise in its beating sound! Arise on the flat bell! Arise in its clang!’35 Also, in a ritual manual used at Bumdeling, before each new chant commences there is always a line providing the bon shaman with precise drum beat instructions for the accompaniment, such as ‘nine double beats’ or ‘three beats with three embellishments’, and so forth.36

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The drums once used in Khoma and Bumdeling were single-sided, having an animal hide membrane spanned upon only one side of a circular wooden ‘hoop’ frame that itself had a width of eight to ten centimetres. The membrane was fastened to the wooden frame by an interlaced leather cord or thong. A short, unornamented wooden handle passed through and was attached to both sides of this circular frame and protruded from the lower side about thirty centimetres for holding the drum during playing. The drum diameter was between twenty and thirty centimetres. A single, wooden drumstick was used. There are no local terms in East Bodish languages for such single membrane frame drums. They are orally referred to as chénga (CT phyed rnga) that is a Tibetan term with the double meaning of ‘half drum’ and ‘open drum’, both referring to the single membrane construction. Other oral terms used by informants included Dzongkha nga yacik (rnga ya cig) literally ‘onesided drum’ or bon nga (bon rnga) the ‘bon drum’. Eye-witnesses have also reported occurrence of single-sided drums used by local ritual specialists in central Bhutan.37 The second drum type I saw being used by a hereditary pha jo specialist at Tamdringang in the upper Tang valley was of a similar size to the single-sided type, although it had a membrane spanned on both sides of the frame and a handle that had been lightly shaped by carving. It was simply called nga (CT rnga) ‘drum’. When asked about the form, the pha jo responded he knew full well according to tradition that his rites should only be performed using a singlesided drum, but that it had been made that way by someone else as a smaller imitation of the larger rnga chen drums used in Tibetan Buddhist monasteries. In fact, from several sites in the Kuri Chu valley and in Bumthang we have accounts of the full-sized Buddhist rnga chen drum being used by bon shamans or their assistants during Srid-pa’i lha worship in recent times.38 When performing the Lha zhu rabs to invite the Srid-pa’i lha deities down to the altar from the top of the sky world, the Tamdringang pha jo held this drum in his right hand, and struck it with the drumstick using his left hand, while simultaneously holding the gshang flat bell in his left hand. This method of a bon ritual specialist playing drum and flat bell simultaneously is described in various oral and written narratives throughout the research region.

Morphologically, both the single-sided drum and the small, double-sided rnga chen drum types that have been used in Srid-pa’i lha worship represent versions of the shaman’s drum occurring within what Michael Oppitz has identified as a series of ‘islands of form’, and ranged along the extended eastern Himalayas between west Nepal and the far eastern and south-eastern Marches of the Tibetan Plateau.39 While at first glance both drum types appear to represent variations upon the Central Himalayan ‘island of form’ defined by Oppitz, the single-sided drum with short, plain handle affixed on both sides of the frame once used in Khoma and Bumdeling is a noteworthy exception, a misfit of sorts or a possible example of a transition between drum types. In form and size, it most closely resembles a drum with the thin, plain handle passing through both sides of the frame depicted in the old, illustrated Berlin Gzer myig manuscript (pl. 58). This manuscript was collected in southern Tibet, and most probably obtained north of Sikkim, around the western border of Bhutan at the beginning of the twentieth century. In my analysis in chapter 17, I have been able to correlate other ritual implements and items of local costume depicted on the folio of this manuscript featuring the drum player in question (pl. 225) with the known material culture of Srid-pa’i lha rites staged in the Khoma Chu valley and in the district of Tawang. It is thus possible that the drum type depicted in the Berlin Gzer myig represents a historical antecedent of the single-sided ‘half drum’ or ‘open drum’ with the handle affixed to both sides of the frame – and thus passing right through the interior of the drum’s body – as used by bon shamans in the far north-east of Bhutan. Also, in chapter 17, I demonstrate that the peculiar hat worn by the same drum-playing ritual specialists in the Gzer myig, as well as special ritual devices used by other figures f lanking him on the same illustrated folio (pl. 225) all have strongly cognate forms in shaman costumes in the highlands of southwestern China and the Tibetan Plateau borderlands. In this context it is of interest that the bon shaman’s drum in northeast Bhutan, in terms of size and form at least, also closely resembles the long-handled ji ver drum used by Qiang shamans in what Oppitz terms the north-east ‘island of form’ of Himalayan shaman drum distribution. The ji ver is a double-side drum with swinging beads attached to the frame by thongs. These beads swing and strike the membranes when

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the drum handle is twisted back and forth, and a similar drum is found among the Naxi, albeit with a much shorter handle. 40 In Qiang myth, both the ji ver drum and the flat bell form a coordinated pair of ritual instruments used by shamans. They were created together as a set in parallel with thunder and lightning; a set intended to be played together for enhanced, symphonic effect during rites. The bon shaman’s drum of similar form and size is also played together with his f lat bell. The instruments were not played separately in two different hands in the manner a ji ver and a flat bell are used simultaneously by Qiang shamans. Rather, bon shamans use a special technique of holding the flat bell in the same hand as the drumstick, such that drum beats and bell tolls are synchronised. I have only observed this technique in the Himalayas among bon shamans. Curiously, the drum depicted in the Gzer myig has some type of beads on thongs attached to the frame and hanging down from one side (pl. 58). These closely resemble the same feature on the ji ver, even though the drum player is depicted using a drumstick. Could all this – the misfit morphological features, and the special mode of playing – be an example of drum transition between the far eastern margins of the Tibetan Plateau system and the Srid-pa’i lha region in north-east Bhutan? This question, already posed by Oppitz,41 must be considered in relation to the bulk of other evidence of possible connections between these two regions examined throughout this study but especially in chapter 17. It might well be a means of explaining the obvious discontinuity in the ethnographically recorded distribution of the shaman’s drum which occurs along the extended eastern Himalayas between the highlands of south-west China and the far north-east corner of Bhutan (map 15). 42 In other words, a discontinuity existing precisely between the two regions I have just been discussing and comparing. Iconographical descriptions of the drum as a piece of ritual equipment used by archetypal gshen and bon specialists in various Srid-pa’i lha cult rabs narratives found translated throughout this book (see Index under ‘drum’) clearly indicate two sizes of instrument. One is a smaller drum held in either the right or the left hand and beaten using a drumstick held in the other hand. A drumstick as such is never explicitly mentioned in the text formulations, which only

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é Plate 58. Ritual specialist performing rites with a hand drum, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig.

ever literally describe ‘left/right hand’ together with the verb ‘to beat’ ([b]rdung[s]), and this same general formulation occurs in many Tibetan accounts of drum playing which we know refer to use of a drumstick. Except for the occasional mention of certain exotic materials – such as conch or bone – for the drum frame, and which is a standard embellishment of such iconographies in ritual texts, this smaller drum type corresponds more closely with the ethnographic records of local drums used for Srid-pa’i lha rites. 43 The second type of description in the manuscripts indicates a drum with a much larger diameter carried slung across, and thus covering, the ritual specialist’s back. I commented on this drum in the section on gshen Ya-ngal in chapter 4, giving an ethnographic example from the Qiang as one that closely resembles what the texts describe. This large drum carried on the back is described as rnga grags mo gling chen (with orthographic variations), which means a

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drum that both ‘resounds’ (grags mo) and has a large surface area (gling chen). We can place both types of ritual drum that occur in the cult back in southernmost areas of the central Tibetan Plateau directly adjacent to the cult’s distribution, and moreover during the eleventh century period. In the dGa’-thang ʻBum-pa-che manuscripts discovered just north of the Srid-pa’i lha worship region, the larger drum features as an attribute of a ritual specialist named pha gShen-rab Myi-bo, and is described as rnga ding chen ding drags – cf. rnga grags mo gling chen above - in which the Tibetan element ding normally refers to the sound made by a drum. 44 The twelfth century Buddhist historiographical accounts of bon and gshen by Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer contains a vivid description of the construction of a single-sided shaman’s drum. It occurs in relation to a Central Asian figure identified as the bon po of Sa-zha which appears to be an orthographic variation of ’A-zha who were a southern Silk Road people also known in Tibetan by the name [b]Se, and whom the imperial Tibetans absorbed into their expanding population: Regarding his accoutrements: he would bend a strip of wood [into a ring] then, taking a hide, he would cover [the ring] by [stretching it across] and pulling the four limbs in to the breast. This was known as a “half-drum”.45 The significance of this old reference is not only its specificity and rarity, but also its geographical provenance. Nyangral spent much of his life at gTam-shul where the dGa’-thang manuscripts were discovered, and which is just fifty kilometres from the northernmost sites where we find bon shaman lineages who used these drums practising in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. His highly accurate account of the construction method was likely reporting actual drums belonging to real ritual specialists in his area, or at least the recording of stories about them. Exactly why drum use during Srid-pa’i lha rites has virtually died out during the past half century or so remains unclear, but it is no doubt due to a complex of factors over time. As elsewhere in Himalayan regions where local shamans have

encountered Tibetan lamas, within the research region the bon shaman’s drum, and especially its single-sided variation, has featured as an index of stigma. It is a mark of ritual inferiority and subordination due to its portrayal as an instrument of belittled or despised bon and bonpo ritual specialists in widespread narratives of Tibetan Buddhist origin of the type discussed in the section on gShen-rab Mi-bo in chapter 4.46 This cultural stigma may well have contributed to a general reluctance to continue public drum use once it had been interrupted at a site due to other more pragmatic reasons. Some concrete indications are that drum use has ceased together with a general decline of the cult of Sridpa’i lha throughout the region. At one site in Khoma, it was reported that the specialist’s drum was accidentally burnt along with other ritual equipment during a house fire about half a century earlier, but never replaced by his successors. The loss of the drum tradition at this site was also accompanied by cessation of use of special items of costume for the bon shamans and their assistants. At a second Khoma site, the single-sided drum used by a deceased specialist was said to have been sold to an ‘outsider’, possibly a museum representative or a collector, and thus was no longer available as a model for replication. In another case at Bumdeling, the last incumbent of a hereditary lineage of specialists who used the drum died during the mid-twentieth century. His specialist role was never inherited by a young successor, and thus the entire local tradition of Srid-pa’i lha worship ceased and use of the drum along with it. In the two Khoma cases just cited, incumbent ritual specialists were active at both sites in question during my field research. While both had vivid knowledge of the former use of drums by their predecessors, they themselves employed the gshang flat bell (see below) in place of the drum to keep rhythms during rites. In their ritual texts, one can read that the bon shaman’s auxiliaries are invoked to come to the surface of both the drum and the f lat bell during a ritual performance. This means both instruments had a similar function and status in terms of the power and presence of these supporting beings, and it is understandable that these instruments can therefore act as functional substitutes under certain circumstances. This replacement of drum by bell parallels what had been reported during the twentieth century for parts of southern Siberia, where use of the shaman’s drum disappeared and

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é Plate 59. Ritual specialists using flat bells and horn during the Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

î Plate 60. Bon shaman receiving donations in a flat bell during the Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

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some aspects of its function appear to have been replaced by the bell.47 Furthermore, it may also be the case that specialist skills in the fabrication of drums have been lost along with deceased bon shaman lineages. Himalayan shamans usually construct their own drums in a process that combines handwork and ritual. The skills are passed from one generation of shamans to the next, and lineage termination could represent a complete break in knowledge transmission in the locations concerned. By contrast, ritual bells were not produced in situ and replacement items have long been simply available via trade or purchase from both neighbouring Tibet or Assam, which are both areas of ritual bell manufacture. Yet another possible factor in the overall loss of the drum is that, in the same areas as the bon shaman’s drum occurs, we find use of the bovine horn in the Srid-pa’i lha cult (see below). This instrument has an extremely high ritual and mythical status equivalent in many ways to what we know of the shaman’s drum from other Himalayan cultural environments.

iconography of the figure named gShen-rabs kyi Myi-bo in an Old Tibetan document, where the gshang dril chen is held in his left hand.49 The ca. eleventh century manuscripts from dGa’-thang have the ritual specialist named pha gShen-rab Myi-bo using a flat bell named gshang khri lo skad snyan.50 In Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts, the flat bell is still termed in exactly the same manner, as gshang dril chen or gshang khro mo dril chen (with many orthographic variations),51 although it can be depicted being held and rung in either the left or the right hand of the ritual specialist. The flat bell is mentioned in the texts as being carried slung over the shoulder of the specialist in the same manner as is described for the large drum in certain texts. The flat bell has a looped cord or leather strap attached to its top, and this is slid over the four fingers or knuckles of either hand to hold it for playing. This allows for a drumstick to be simultaneously held and used in the same hand, and where drum use is still present – or at least remembered as a technique – the coordinated ringing of a flat bell and beating of a drum with the same hand is practiced in this manner.

Bells

As noted above, it is often mentioned by ritual specialists that the bell has replaced the drum as the main rhythmgenerating instrument in Srid-pa’i lha rites. This is certainly borne out by the frequency and manner of bell use. A range of different sounds and effects can be produced when ringing the flat bell, depending upon the ritual context. Even and steady rhythms resembling regular drum beats which are produced during periods of chanting, and the forms of bro and lhachong movement performances or mimicking which attend them, are the most common form of ringing a bell. Arm and hand movements with the bell remain directly in front of, and perpendicular to the ritual specialist’s torso (pl. 59). When specialists perform certain rhythmic bodily movements during rites, the bell is rung precisely in time with the motion. An example is accompaniment of the motion of mimicked copulation, when an even, but much faster tempo is produced with the bell than is normally the case during chanting. In addition, flat bells are used for several ritual gestures. At some sites when lha are farewelled upon their return up to the sky world, the bell is held at full arm’s length above the head and rung rapidly from the wrist only (pl. 110), producing a shrill sound. This

Bells of two different types are widely used by the main ritual specialists in Srid-pa’i lha worship. As with the presence and use of drums, we find that bell use is similarly divided between worship communities in the northern and southern zones where Srid-pa’i lha worship is practiced. Use of the Tibetan f lat bell or gshang, an instrument usually emblematic of so-called ‘Bon’ in various contexts,48 is widespread across the whole northern zone. Across the southern zone, we find instead more familiar round-bodied bells used in a variety of sizes. This difference in distribution seems to relate to proximity of the northern worship communities to the Tibetan Plateau, where bronze flat bells were produced and obtained during the past, and of southern communities to the Indian plains which was a premodern site for production, use and acquisition of round-bodied bells. Along with a bird’s ‘feather’ or ‘wing’ (gshog), the ‘large flat bell’ (gshang dril chen) is the oldest ritual accoutrement known to be associated with an archetypal ritual specialist termed gshen or pha. Both items are mentioned in a short

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position has a double function, for while the open side of the bell points skywards, it is believed to collect any vitality which ‘rains down’ from the departing lha, and this is borne out by ritual hand gestures made during the same farewell rites by other participants. When ritual specialists receive offerings from the public, they hold the flat bell mouth up in front of them so that sponsors can place cash notes or parched grains within it (pl. 60). Conventionally-shaped, round-bodied bells are found in use by Srid-pa’i lha specialists throughout the Mon-yul Corridor, but less commonly so in eastern Bhutan. Their ritual function is for the most part identical to the flat bell. These bells always consist only of either the bodies of the larger ornamented bells (dril bu) used by Tibetan Buddhist lamas but with the vajra handle removed, or they are smaller, plain bronze or brass bells of the types sometimes tied to the necks of ponies. Likewise, none of these round-bodied bells have solid handles, rather a leather hand strap or string only. In this respect, they appear to be an imitation of, and substitute for original flat bells where the latter are no longer available to specialists, and it is no surprise that round-bodied bells replace flat bells throughout the southern distribution of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, where worship communities have the greatest geographical distance from Tibet. Two specific uses of small round-bodied bells were only observed in the Mon-yul Corridor part of the research region. One was small spherical bells worn upon the middle fingers of the right hand by a type of performer at Thempang and in the Sangti valley of Dirang district. This performer is called both lha’i bu meaning ‘son of the lha’, and bro pa signifying a special style of movement performance termed bro discussed in chapter 8. The lha’i bu at both sites represent special cases of sub-shamans due to their association with auxiliary deities (see ch. 11). They frequently engage in the bro style of movement performance, one that throughout the Mon-yul Corridor involves holding their hands in the air in front of them and lightly shaking or trembling them (pl. 148), at which time the bells jingle. Bells attached to shaman costumes that jingle when they move are a feature found among shamans along the eastern Himalayas as well as in premodern Siberia. In many cases, the jingling of

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é Plate 61. Bells attached to a lha shing tree in front of a stone slab altar, Yewang, Dirang, 2011.

such bells indicates the presence of deities that have been invoked, and who are expected to manifest and possibly be embodied by – as opposed to possessing – the shaman. Shaking or trembling of bodily extremities is in any case one common and widespread sign of a shaman’s contact with deities in almost all areas of the Himalayas and Siberia. A second use of small, round-bodied bells limited to the Mon-yul Corridor is their attachment to cut stems of trees which are erected directly in front of altars down to which lha are invited to descend during rites (pl. 61). This was observed only around Dirang district. The fresh cut tree stems must be from the species named shargremshing (Viburnum cylindricum)52 that is the local ritual tree believed pure enough to serve as the lha shing or ‘deity tree’. It represents the vertical cosmic axis and the only ritual prop acceptable

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to the descending deities to alight upon. The stems of twothree metres length have all their side branches trimmed off so that only a crown of leaves remains around the top. The erected stem is then pulled back and forth by the specialist’s hand, or with a string attached to it, to ring the bell as the deities are invited to descend to the altar. The ringing also signals their presence at the altar, as it does in the case of small bells attached to the shaman’s hands and costume discussed above.

Horns Nowadays, horns are found in use for Srid-pa’i lha worship within a very specific belt of sites in far north-east Bhutan covering the three parallel highland valleys of the Kuri Chu in Kurtö, the Khoma Chu, and the Kholong Chu around Bumdeling.53 This belt of sites overlaps with most records of former use by bon shamans of the drum. Additionally, horns were used and are occasionally mentioned in ritual chants in other regions further south. For example, a horn was used during the Khat festival dedicated to lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal at Khomshar in Kheng Chikor during the period of my fieldwork. In one part of the invitation chant used by the bon po of Wamling in Kheng Chikor when undertaking his verbal ritual journey up to the sky world, at the point where he arrives on the thirteenth level of the sky and addresses the principal lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, he says: During the time of our forefathers You were received in a golden horn; Now during the time of sons We are receiving you in a yak horn.54 This indicates use of horns from yak (Bos grunniens) during the past that has subsequently virtually ceased in Kheng, and other evidence also bears this out. All the ritual horns I observed were bovine, and due to their size and form unmistakably those from the wild mithun (Bos frontalis) and the South Asian buffalo (Bubalus bubalis), both animals which are regionally available. Despite being known to come from mithun or buffalo, informants persist in referring to the horns as ‘yak horns’, which is a cultural memory of the actual

yak horns of times past. The same ritual naming is true of any cow nowadays offered to the lha in lower altitude, middle hills areas, where the Srid-pa’i lha cult has spread but where yak have never – nor could ever have – lived due to the lower altitude and heat. Such cows are always referred to as the lha g.yag. Some examples of the ritual bovine horn are finished with silver coverings at each end, and they may also be ornamented with a tuft of yak’s hair (pl. 62), such as those found upon the headgear of certain ritual specialists and related to the presence of the bon shaman’s auxiliaries while performing. This tuft is also another reference back to the original yak horn. The horns always have a carrying strap attached at each end and are slung across the back of the horn blower when being transported (pl. 63) in the same manner as the shaman’s drum noted above. While bon shamans themselves do not use ritual horns, they are in many ways far more ritually significant than the shaman’s drum and f lat bell in those communities where all three instruments have existed together. Horns are carried and blown by a designated ritual specialist termed umpa or ‘horn blower’ (um and umkha meaning horn in Kurtöp and Dzala, ung in Khengkha), who is to all intents and purposes a sub-shaman. Umpa roles are hereditary like those of the bon shaman, with both types of specialists wearing identical costumes and being subject to the same restrictions and behavioural codes. In those areas where the horn still exists in use, the umpa acts as close assistant to the shaman and is his constant companion at festivals, and with but few exceptions performs directly alongside him during rites. While the shaman himself does not actually employ the horn as a ritual instrument in the same manner as he uses his manuscripts, drum and flat bell, horns are nevertheless always stored together with the shaman’s personal ritual equipment. This is done under the same special conditions within the attic level of the house of the shaman or the chief, hereditary ritual sponsor for Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Treatment of the horn is subject to the same rules of use as other items of the shaman’s paraphernalia. The shaman is thus the only other person besides the umpa with direct access to, and ability to handle the ritual horn. An incident was related to me in the Kurtö village of Ney that illustrates community beliefs about the necessity of special restrictions applied to

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ï Plate 62. Ritual horn with silver trim and a yak hair tuft, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

é Plate 63. Horn blower carrying a ritual horn (um) as ritual specialists gather around a phallic pole, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

î Plate 64. Ritual horn (r.) and box containing a bon shaman’s manuscripts (l.) tied to a beam on the attic level of the village temple, Ney, Kurtö, 2012.

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the horn. Nowadays at Ney, the ritual horn is kept bound to the rafters on the attic level of the communal Buddhist temple directly under the roof (pl. 64). It was moved there to protect it after having formerly been stored in the attic of the hereditary ritual sponsor’s house which is a grand mansion of four stories. Someone had once hunted a bear, and then cooked its meat and fat downstairs in the kitchen several floors below the attic of that house. The fumes rose upstairs, polluted the horn, which fell down from its place of storage and split down the middle into two halves. The pieces were re-joined and flashed with silver, making the horn even more special than before, although it was relocated to the attic of the communal temple – a building without any cooking activities – to avoid any reoccurrence of such problems. In many respects, the function of the horn is an extension of the shaman’s own oral chanting, just as the drum and the flat bell are said to be. The sounds from all these sources are modes of address to the lha, each with a purpose and anticipated outcome. Blowing of the horn is believed to herald to the lha imminent human worship, or stages of it, such as the commencement of a verbal ritual journey or the shaman’s impending arrival at a lha shing tree where the deity is in repose. It is also an invitation call for lha to come close and participate in the rites, and thus a way of attracting their life powers down from the sky into the human domain. Like the bon shaman’s drum and flat bell, the horn is also an object intimately associated with the actual presence of auxiliary beings. For all these reasons, ritual horns are never blown outside of the direct context of worship. Like the ritual specialist’s technique of ‘chanting’ or ‘singing’ (gyer/dgyer) a rabs narrative (see below), the sound of the horn is associated with ritual actions defined by the verb complex bkug/ khug[s]/dgug/’gug[s], part of the semantic range which covers ‘attraction’ or ‘allure’. I believe this practice of enticement using sound – whether of human voice or horn – is adapted from mimicking deployed as a skill for hunting and pastoralism, and when considering possible origins of the Srid-pa’i lha cult this is highly relevant (see ch. 16). Bovine horns, but again especially those of yak, have been an item of domestic material culture in the same areas as the ritual use of horns in Srid-pa’i lha worship occurs. I recorded the

premodern domestic use of both yak and yak-cow hybrid horns by livestock herders to scare away predatory wild animals, and rarely by hunters to mimic deer calls. The sounds made with the ritual horn during Srid-pa’i lha festivals resemble the loud bugling of stags during the rut, without question. The most important point defining practices and beliefs related to the ritual horn is that they are considered to be intimately associated with the Srid-pa’i lha themselves. This status is evident from the general manner of handling the horn, its use as a ritual object beyond its function as a wind instrument, as well as in local tales told about such horns. Significantly, it also defines the horn as having a separate status in relation to the drum and f lat bell, neither of which are directly associated with the Srid-pa’i lha, but which are both sites for the bon shaman’s auxiliaries to manifest. The horn is directly associated with the ancestral fertility and vitality of the Srid-pa’i lha. At several festivals in Kurtö and Khoma, I observed the deity being called with the horn by the umpa ‘horn blower’ upon ridges high above the sacred grove and altar. After the lha was deemed to have arrived, the horn was carried at both ends between the umpa and a second ritual specialist as if the horn itself were the conveyance for the lha (pl. 65). Both men moved off downhill with high prancing steps towards a sacred tree and bonfire in a forest clearing while carrying the horn, all the while singing an obscene song about the lha having fertilising intercourse with local married women in a settlement visible across the valley, and which I quoted in chapter 2. This performance mimicked the lha’s horse, the back or saddle being the horn itself upon which the deity rode. The documentations in chapters 9 and 12 demonstrate that the divine horse, but especially its phallus, is intimately associated with the lha’s fertilising powers at a range of Srid-pa’i lha worship sites.55 During rites, horns are often hung upon specially cut sticks with a forked top end which are planted next to an altar or at a ritual ground used for movement performances like bro (see below, and pl. 67). Use of these ‘horn sticks’ also demonstrates close associations between the ritual horn and lha

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î Plate 65. Umpa and palopa ritual specialists conveying the lha down to the sacred grove using a ritual horn while singing and mimicking a horse, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

ì Plate 66. Male Pcha festival performers jumping anticlockwise around the ritual horn supported atop an erect, forked stick (r.) at the summit of the Risumtse hill between Shawa and Tabi, Kurtö, ca. 2000.

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fertility. For example, during Srid-pa’i lha rites at Shawa and Tabi in Kurtö, when a range of ‘dance’-like and ‘game’like performances occur atop a hill named Risumtse (pl. 66), the horn stick and the horn are used with direct reference to sexual intercourse. Both the bon shaman termed pchami and the umpa ‘horn blower’ at Shawa have a special ritual assistant, the da, who transports their ritual equipment to the summit of the Risumtse. Upon arrival at the ritual ground, the da must stir the forked horn stick gradually around upon the surface of the earth, and then thrust it hard into the ground. Once the stick is standing erect, all the male participants present must jump into the air. The activity is called lhachong or ‘lha jumping’ and is an overt display of male virility. This sequence of actions must be repeated three times, and on the third and final thrust of the stick into the earth, when the horn is actually hung upon the forked top of the stick, all the male participants call out loudly, ‘The vagina is [open] like a pocket! Father’s penis hangs limp!’ (Tu phak pha! Mili shang shang!),56 which signifies immediate post-coitus circumstances, as if sexual intercourse has just taken place. Furthermore, there are a set of local tales about the animated ritual horn found in different worship communities around Khoma and Kurtö. The typical plot line always involves the horn autonomously flying in the air just like the lha. To give one example, a tale in the lower Khoma Chu valley relates the destruction by fire of the old ridge top village of Shekhar (Shel-mkhar), the overgrown ruins of which are now to be found just below Gönpakab settlement and monastery. The lhami’s horn, which was stored in the attic of his house in the village, escaped the fire by flying in the air in the direction of Kurtö. It eventually fell into the Kuri Chu river course below, where, at a certain time of the year, its sound can still be heard emanating from the depths of the flowing water as one stands upon the riverbank. Another horn tale in Kurtö relates how the horn appeared, and originally flew through and resided at a series of settlements along the Kuri Chu valley, then flew across a hill to eventually land in a side valley at Shawa, where it is still in use by the bon shaman there today. Each year, until the early 2000s, when Srid-pa’i lha festivals were staged in this region, the Shawa shaman and his assistants would visit these other settlements and parade

the horn back in its original ‘homes’, while the inhabitants in those villages turned out to worship the horn. These local images of the ritual bovine horn as a flying instrument, and as a conveyance for both deity and shaman, of course all recall a parallel corpus of myths about the nature of the shaman’s drum elsewhere along the Himalayas and in Siberia. All the above conceptions and behaviours associated with the horn underlay the specific ways it is treated and used during festivals. Ritual horns are always handled with utmost care. When not directly in use during rites, horns are either slung across the horn blower’s back, and carefully laid upon rocks associated with primordial events, or hung from forked sticks which are specially cut and then erected for the purpose next to the main altar areas (pl. 67) or at the ritual ground for performing bro (pl. 66) and mimicking movements. At sites around Khoma and Kurtö where such forked horn sticks are used, the deity is often said to be present seated within the notch atop the forked horn stick. When a horn is used indoors during rites staged at the hearth place, if it is not in the horn blower’s hands the instrument must be laid upon a bed of fresh Artemisia stalks to ensure its purity. Sometimes a special shelf next to the hearth is reserved for the horn to be laid upon in this manner. Such ritual shelves – like the hearth place itself – are associated with both ancestors and the shaman’s auxiliaries and are also found in use further eastwards along the extended eastern Himalayas. This is the case for Drung, Naxi and Qiang societies in which shamans are the ritual specialists who place their equipment upon such special shelves, while these shelves are also found used by the Kulunge Rai in east Nepal where the horn also uniquely occurs for ancestral worship (see below).57 The perceived sanctity and therefore sensitivity of the horn (um) to the wrong types of treatment is signalled in Khoma by use of the cryptic word khetchan, literally ‘possessing a voice’ (cf. CT skad can), to designate it during festivals since it cannot be addressed directly using its mundane name. This word is one example of a more complex cryptolect vocabulary spoken in the Khoma valley and the upper Bumdeling area of the neighbouring Kholong Chu catchment. This special cryptolect is used during festivals to talk about anything associated with the Srid-pa’i lha,

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î Plate 67. Ritual horn hanging from a forked stick next to a stone slab altar during a rite, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. ì Plate 68. Ritual specialists performing ablutions with spring water through a ritual horn immediately prior to donning their costumes, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. é Plate 69. Serving liquor for rites through a ritual horn, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

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for the lha Gurzhe is poured through the ritual horn when distributing it to each ritual specialist (pl. 69). All these uses of the horn serve to maximise human contact with the lha’s vitalising powers. W hile rather old mythical precedents exist in earlier Tibetan manuscripts for the use of drums and flat bells by bon shamans, to my present knowledge no such sources mention use of the ritual horn. Neither is the horn noted as a typical instrument in shaman rites across the much wider area where the shaman’s drum features most prominently. Rather, ethnographic records reveal the yak horn or its lower altitude bovine equivalents is only a ritual implement of shamans in quite specific highland populations speaking Tibeto-Burman languages who are ranged along the extended eastern Himalayas. These peoples include, from east to west, the Qiang, Naxi, Mishmi, Sridpa’i lha worship communities of north-eastern Bhutan, and the Kulunge Rai of eastern Nepal. In all of those societies, amongst other things the horn is used in shaman rites related to ancestral and auxiliary deities, exactly as it is in the cult of Srid-pa’i lha.

é Plate 70. Idu Mishmi tamro assistant to the igu shaman playing a yak horn during a brophee funerary rite, Anini, upper Dibang valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007.

and its use is discussed in detail for Tsango in chapter 9 and appendix F. Other practices and traditions reflecting the ritual horn’s contact with Srid-pa’i lha, and thus their powers, vary from site to site. During the Pla festival at Lawa in the Khoma valley, for instance, the fresh spring water used by the ritual specialists for ablutions of face, mouth and hands every morning prior to donning their costumes is poured from the spring directly through the horn before being used for washing (pl. 68). At other points during the same festival, the horn is touched upon the heads of all the participants (pl. 99 b) so that they receive vitality and protection from the lha. At Tsango, distilled liquor used during farewell rites

Martino Nicoletti recorded ritual horn use among the Kulunge Rai of eastern Nepal, observing that “the sound of horns, like ritual singing and dance, has the power to increase “prosperity” and to attract the beneficent presence of the ancestors at the location of the rite.”58 Kulunge horn use is thus closely cognate with horn use in the Sridpa’i lha cult. Among the Idu Mishmi of highland Arunachal Pradesh one finds the yak horn used to invoke auxiliary deities and ancestors in rites conducted by the igu shaman, a specialist whose techniques and characteristics overlap in a range of respects with those of bon shamans. In the Idu case, a designated ritual assistant called tamro is the horn blower (pl. 70) rather than the igu himself, a division of ritual labour paralleling that found in Srid-pa’i lha worship. The horn is especially used during Idu Mishmi secondary funerals for persons who committed suicide, or who suffered other forms of ‘unnatural’ death. It is believed that their ‘souls’ have not departed properly to the land of the ancestral dead but remain instead roving around their former households causing trouble for living family members.

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Both Qiang and Naxi shamans still use yak horns and maintain myths about their origins and significance. For both groups, the ritual yak horn’s origins go back to the primordial shaman.59 Qiang and Naxi ritual use of the yak’s horn further east closely parallels Idu Mishmi use of the horn just cited. Although it cannot be proven historically, based upon all we do know a reasonable hypothesis can be posed that the yak horn was originally a ritual instrument in the culture complex of pastoral and hunting peoples. The ancient pastoralists of far north-eastern Tibet, often generically referred to as “Qiang”, and who are the most probable source of the cult of the sheep and ritual use of its wool, are also the best candidates for the origins of the yak horn as a shaman’s instrument. The fact of bovine – and specifically yak – horns in use by shamans along the eastern Tibetan Marches among the Qiang and the Naxi, who appear to share some common descent, and among only a few other groups scattered along the eastern Himalayas to the west, may well – like the shaman’s woollen headgear – represent one of a range of traces of an ancient westwards dispersal of peoples with a Qiangic ethnolinguistic heritage. The known areas of horn use within the Srid-pa’i lha cult distribution can be mapped directly upon communities with the highest likelihood of descent from migrant Shar Dung ancestor populations in lHo-brag. In chapters 16 through 18 I set out hypotheses that the Shar Dung may have had elements in their ethnic background leading us back to populations speaking Qiangic and Naic languages further east.

Conch Trumpets While the ritual horn is never mentioned in any formal rabs chanted at sites where horns are actually found used during the rites I recorded, conch-shell trumpets (dung or dung mo) certainly are cited in the ritual texts. An actual conch-shell trumpet used for rites was only recorded as having been used – the tradition is now defunct – at a single site of Sridpa’i lha worship, and in that case, it appears to have been a substitute for the bovine horn used in neighbouring districts. The case of the conch-shell trumpet is nevertheless of comparative interest.

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References to the conch shell trumpet in local rabs texts parallel those occurring in earlier Classical Tibetan textual materials with which Srid-pa’i lha narratives clearly share (or draw upon) many motifs and even textual passages. The oldest case I can cite is from the origin story of the progenitor emperor gNya’-khri bTsan-po as preserved in the Sangs-ba Bon-lugs redaction in the longer Mkhas pa lde’u history from the mid-thirteenth century. In the story, the divine emperor’s grandfather, Ya-lha bDal-drug, gives his fourth son Bar-gyi bDun-tshigs a conch-shell named ’Phar-po ’Phar-chung as one of the gifts used to persuade the latter to descend into exile in the dMu realm on the seventh level of the sky world. Bar-gyi bDun-tshigs in turn gives his son gNya’-khri bTsan-po a conch shell that blows itself as one of the gifts he receives just after he has agreed to descend to earth to become the ruler of men. 60 Local rabs accordingly have reference to the dung Phar-ma’i Phar-chung from this episode. In the redaction of the story found in the Lde’u jo sras history, at the point gNya’-khri bTsan-po descends to earth, “When he goes, the conchshell ’Phar-po Pha-chung resounds beforehand.”61 Thus, at least mythically, the heraldic function of the conch-shell trumpet is identical to that of the horn that must be sounded prior to the invitation to, and descent by the deities from the sky world during actual Srid-pa’i lha rites. Other shamans of the extended eastern Himalayas use conch-shell trumpets. This is particularly the case in communities speaking Qiangic and Naic languages, such as Naxi, Yongning Na (i.e., Mosuo), forms of Ersu (formerly Xifan), and Qiang dialects of the Min Shan ranges.62 Like the bovine horn, the conch-shell trumpet is used in many cases for hailing ancestors, as is the conch in the Tibetan myth of the progenitor emperor.

Ladles Ladles of various types are humble domestic objects found in most rural households throughout the eastern Himalayas. One type of ladle is, however, used as a specific ritual accoutrement by bon shamans operating across the southern

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zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship distribution. This is the ladle made from a gourd or calabash with a long neck. They are created along the whole sweep of the eastern Himalayas by drying species of locally grown Cucurbitaceae. It is perhaps no wonder that this simple dried vegetable functions as one of the shaman’s vital accoutrements. Gourds have a long history as a significant trade item between peoples of the eastern Himalayas and Tibetans of the Plateau, already noted by Chinese histories during the Tibetan imperial era.63 The gourd also plays a role in Old Tibetan myths which are set along the southern margins of the Tibetan Plateau and the eastern Himalayas, while the motif of gourds as life and ‘soul’ containers in such stories is clearly associated with a far wider set of cognate gourd motifs found in the highlands of south-western China and northern Burma.64 In terms of ritual, the gourd is one among a number of receptacles made of natural, woody materials, including bamboo tubes and ‘nest’-like baskets woven from cane, which can safely hold a person’s mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’. The ritual ladle used by bon shamans is fashioned from a small, elongated species of bottle gourd. The thin end of the gourd forms the handle, while the bulbous end has a round hole cut out of it to form the scoop. The same form of ladle is used for domestic purposes such as alcohol brewing and cooking, but those used by ritual specialists are exclusively employed for their rites, and they are embellished in certain ways. The handles are sometimes decorated with an embossed metal covering or simple carved patterns (pl. 71), and the exterior surface is often intentionally blackened, or they are coloured dark brown with smoke patina from being stored above the hearth. The ladle’s main functions when employed by ritual specialists are for sprinkling lustral waters in specific types of purification rites (khrus and tshan) (pl. 72), but especially lustrations of sacrificial animals, and for offering freshly brewed alcohol (chang phud) to the deities during hospitality rites. The gourd ladle used by bon po specialists across the southern zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship obviously represents an adaptation from the domestic material culture of the extended eastern Himalayan highlands, as well as

a continuity in terms of equipment among ritual specialists across the entire region. Evidence from multiple, contiguous areas testifies to this. In rabs texts inf luenced by Kurtöp and Dzala languages recorded in manuscripts using Tibetan script in north-east Bhutan, the gourd ritual ladle locally called chok is written gyo and rgyo (cf. CT skyogs ‘a large ladle’). In southern Kheng regions of Bhutan the gourd ladle used by the bon po is named chong, and further east in Dirang it is chung, with the darkened ladle of the bon po there more specifically named chung nagpo (pl. 72).65 The same gourd ladle used still further east in the Tani languages zone by nyibo, nyibu and nyib ritual specialists is called uju in Bangni and Nyishi areas,66 ojuk in the upper Subansiri valley, yaju among Apatani67 and ujuk among the Galo of central Arunachal Pradesh. The most common ritual use of these ladles is for lustrations onto sacrificial animals being offered to ancestors. Still further eastwards, the gourd or wooden ritual ladle is found used in rites directed towards ancestors in north-west Yunnan. This is so among the Naxi during the Muân bpò’ ceremony,68 while further north in the Min Shan ranges gourd ritual ladles were also used by premodern Qiang shamans during Paying the Vows ceremonies that were closely cognate with the Muân bpò’.69 In the Naxi and Qiang cases, the ritual ladle shares one identical function and context of use with ladles in the Sridpa’i lha cult, namely for making lustrations onto sacrificial animals offered to sky ancestors in the sacred grove. In addition to the ethnographic data, the ritual ladle has a long historical pedigree as an ancient implement of ritual specialists who conduct mundane rites. It is highly significant that the use of ladles for similar purposes as the ethnographic examples is mentioned in the oldest ritual texts recorded in Tibetan language to describe mundane rites. Such ladles, sometimes appearing in myths as made of precious substances, such as gold, silver or turquoise, are depicted being used in rites described in Old Tibetan documents, as well as in the dGa’-thang manuscripts where they are deployed by specialists termed bon po and pha to hold ritual beverages.70 Ritual ladles (thum/thom [bu]) also feature in the earlier Tibetan Buddhist historiographical tradition as a defining feature of the ancient bon po ritual specialists

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î Plate 71. A bon po’s ornamented gourd ladle (chong) at Kheng Bjoka, southeastern Bhutan, 2012.

í Plate 72. Bon po performing lustrations with a blackened gourd ladle (chung nagpo), Phudung, upper Sangti valley, Dirang, 2009.

and their practice in mythical accounts.71 In certain old Srid-pa’i lha rabs manuscripts from the northern zone that describe ritual procedures performed by archetypal bon and gshen, the same ladles are also depicted.

Manuscripts In highland societies maintaining oral cultures along the extended eastern Himalayas, and further into parts of upland Southeast Asia, tales of lost writing have frequently been recorded.72 While this type of story also occurs not far distant from my research region, it is completely absent from any communities maintaining the cult of Srid-pa’i lha, in which bon shamans most often record and transmit their main narratives and rites using collections of handwritten manuscripts. Use of the same manuscripts almost invariably features in the performance of the shaman’s principal rites. Due to this central feature of their practice, bon shamans belong to a small and unique group of so-called ‘literate’ or ‘text-reading shamans’. To my present knowledge, and as I discuss in detail in the following chapter, text-reading shamans with their own manuscript cultures only occur along the extended eastern Himalayas in two distinct regional concentrations, one being the region of the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself, the other being in

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objects associated with a set of practices resembling those applied to other ritual accoutrements of the shaman.

é Plate 73. Square format bon shaman’s manuscript booklet, with horizontal, top margin stitched binding. Text of the messenger bat’s theft of fire narrative used in a Dakpa speaking community, Hoongla, Tawang, 2012.

north-west Yunnan with some possible northward extension into western Sichuan. As noted at points throughout this work, but especially in chapter 15 and appendix J, one type of ritual specialist practising mundane rites and who were most likely predecessors of bon shamans in southernmost Central Tibet already had a highly developed manuscript culture about a millennium before present. There is every reason to credit bon shamans as being the inheritors and maintainers of this older heritage. Here I will only initially discuss the bon shaman’s manuscripts as physical

The paper used for bon shaman manuscripts is always a robust, handmade local product. The region has a strong culture of paper-making, with various plant species used for paper production being readily available in local forests. While some manuscripts are produced in the long format, loose-leaf poti-style typical of Tibetan Buddhist religious manuscripts and xylographic prints, these are overall in the minority and appear to be a more recent innovation. Most very old manuscripts that shamans possess are in the form of booklets. These are approximately square (pl. 73), or with a 2:1 (length:height) rectangular format (pl. 75), compared with the very elongated rectangular format poti-style based upon the model of old South Asian palm leaf manuscripts adopted in Tibet under the inf luence of missionary Buddhism. The booklet pages are stitched together with handmade thread along a central spine, either horizontally along top margins, or vertically along left side margins, to create manuscript booklets whose folios must be turned respectively upwards or from right to left for reading. Bon shaman manuscript booklets vary a great deal in height and width, but most consistently they have an approximate 2:1 format ratio. The smallest I measured was fifteen centimetres long and eleven high, with the largest being twenty-five centimetres by eighteen. Outer folio margins are usually trimmed with rounded corners. At sites in the far north of the research region, I also sometimes came across another type of manuscript in which the folios are both folded and stitched together to form a long, folding ‘concertina’-like text which is inscribed upon both sides. The user can continually turn the pages to read all the way through one text and then that written upon the reverse folio sides, somewhat like an ‘endless’ book. These types of small ritual manuals are in every way pragmatically designed to function as durable working books. They are intended to be employed in the outdoor contexts, such as sacred groves, ridge tops or open air ritual grounds, where most of the bon shaman’s rites are performed, and where they are always potentially exposed to smoke, rain and other forms of moisture, wind, smearing by oily fingers

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î Plate 74. First folio of a bon shaman’s manuscript booklet, with horizontal, top margin stitched binding, a cloth cover and repairs to damage. Text of a cosmographic prelude in a The Na Lore (Na gzhung) manuscript used in a Dakpa speaking community, Lhau, Tawang, 2011.

î Plate 75. Cover of a bon shaman’s manuscript booklet with horizontal, top margin stitched binding and a musk deer tooth clasp, Thempang, Dirang, 2010.

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used to handle ritual butter offerings, and so forth. They can sometimes have cloth or animal hide outer covers (pl. 74) for durability, and a clasp to keep them closed and protected when not in use (pl. 75). Their dimensions permit them to be easily held in the hands, and thus used while standing and moving, yet also readily slipped into the folds of a shaman’s upper garment where they can rest in place above the line of his belt when temporarily not in use. The liturgical language recorded in the shaman’s manuscripts is classical Tibetan, albeit containing some archaisms in certain texts, and influenced to varying degrees by features of locally spoken East Bodish languages that will be discussed in the following chapter. The texts are always handwritten with a wooden stylus normally of bamboo, using locally produced black ink. Handwriting in red ink to highlight the opening syllables of each new rabs narrative, or le’u ‘division’ of ritual speech and unit of action, is also occasionally employed (pl. 87). For the most part, forms of the ‘headed’ (dbu can) Tibetan script are employed rather than ‘headless’ (dbu med) cursive. Lines of text per folio usually range from 6-11, depending upon the manuscript concerned. Scribal styles and degrees of scribal literacy evident in the texts themselves vary enormously from site to site. Among over one hundred individual bon shaman manuscripts inspected during the research, only three examples contained illustrations, all of which were colour paintings accompanying the handwritten text. When manuscripts become worn or damaged, they are either repaired or recopied onto new paper by the shaman himself, or one of his literate assistants. If not totally beyond salvage, older manuscripts are never disposed of. In some collections, one can find multiple manuscripts recording several generations of older versions of a ritual text kept together with the currently used and most recently written version. When in use during rites, a bon shaman’s manuscripts are rarely separated from his person, and when they are, he usually lays them upon the stone or wooden altar directly in front of him protected underneath by a wrapping (pl. 76). Many bon shamans wrap their manuscripts in plain pieces of cloth to protect them, although some do not, and wrapping is a pragmatic measure rather than a ritual requirement.

Outside of the ritual period of a Srid-pa’i lha festival when manuscripts are required for chanting, they remain stored together with the shaman’s other ritual paraphernalia under the roof on the attic level of the house of the bon shaman himself or of the festival’s chief, hereditary sponsor, and more rarely in the attic of a community temple (pl. 64). This pattern can also be found in some treatment of manuscripts among Naxi dtô-mbà.73 The attic is a significant ritual space in many parts of the research region, but particularly in north-eastern Bhutan, where various rites related to Sridpa’i lha and to vitality can be performed. Storage of manuscripts is usually within a sealed wooden box or cabinet to keep the paper safe from humidity, insect pests and rodents. Beyond physical storage precautions, access to manuscripts is ritually regulated. At most sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, it is strictly not possible for anyone, including the bon shaman, to have access to Srid-pa’i lha manuscripts outside of the ritual period of a local festival’s staging. On several occasions when a shaman agreed to give me access to a manuscript collection for research purposes outside of the festival period, a purification ceremony had to be conducted when the texts were taken out of storage and placed back in again. Even following the termination of a bon shaman’s lineage, the deceased shaman’s family members who are custodians of his patrimony are often highly wary about taking manuscripts related to defunct local festivals out of storage so that they can be inspected. Indeed, access in such cases was often refused outright. The concerns informing ritual regulations of access to manuscripts are not entirely the same as those applied to the bon shaman’s musical instruments and costume. In the latter case, the primary concern is that those items might come into direct contact with Srid-pa’i lha and auxiliary beings who are both highly sensitive to pollution related to human activities. There are three concerns in the case of access to manuscripts. In addition to a general concern about maintaining purity of the material objects themselves, it is uncontrolled access to the ritual texts recorded in manuscripts that is perceived as the real danger, and one which is twofold. Firstly, the annual timings of calendric Srid-pa’i lha rites for revitalisation are fixed and usually strictly adhered to. Indeed, one of the standard, initial

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î Plate 76. A bon shaman’s manuscripts resting temporarily upon a stone slab altar, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

addresses a bon shaman makes to the lha is to inform them, ‘we are inviting you at the same time as previously, we are not late and we are not early’. Thus, keeping manuscripts in storage between festivals completely obviates use of chants addressed to the Srid-pa’i lha at inappropriate times. This is perceived as something that may potentially offend lha, who could be invoked to come without any hospitality and sacrifice prepared for them. The stakes at risk for a worship community are their loss of regular access to life-giving powers, not to mention potential harm the offended lha may cause. The second danger inherent in manuscripts concern cases when secret spells transmitted within a bon shaman lineage have been written down at some point within a manuscript, often with instructions on how to deploy them (see ch. 7). These spells are considered extremely powerful and must never fall into the wrong hands. When a Srid-pa’i lha festival is in progress, careful steps are taken to ensure that all participants remain ritually ‘clean’ by way of the communal purification rites performed for them, together with their compulsory observance of temporary codes of conduct. This means manuscripts not

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recording secret spells can, in theory, be handled if necessary by any festival participant without risk of pollution occurring. At this point, a researcher who is a participant observer can be granted access to look at a bon shaman’s manuscripts. Manuscripts are sometimes handled and used during rites by literate ritual assistants or senior and experienced male participants, who must either prompt a non-literate shaman using the written text or read it themselves to be able to accompany the shaman’s chanting without error. Manuscript booklets with stitched folios that bon shaman’s produce are not limited to them alone, and other premodern documents are occasionally found in this form along the Himalayas and on the Tibetan Plateau. It is highly noteworthy that manuscript booklets of almost the same physical type, format and dimensions were discovered at dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che in gTam-shul, southern Tibet, approximately fifty kilometres north of valleys within my research region at which almost identical booklets occur today. Shared morphological and orthographic features of the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang booklets, the ca. eleventh century Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript and those manuscripts used in

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northern areas of the Srid-pa’i lha cult will be discussed in chapter 15 and appendix J. It is also quite significant that the most common occurrence of manuscript booklets with the same morphology as those used by bon shamans elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas are also in use by a cognate type of ritual specialist. These are the ceremonial and divination manuals used by Naxi dtô-mbà in the highlands of north-west Yunnan,74 and I will set out a detailed case for some ancestral relationship between Naxi ritual culture and the cult of Srid-pa’i lha in chapters 17 and 18.

6.3 Origin Narratives for Shaman Paraphernalia A defining feature of traditions of ‘bon’-identified rites within the wider Tibetosphere, and various shamanic tradition-complexes among speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages along the extended eastern Himalayas, is the use of origin narratives explaining a ritual specialist’s main items of paraphernalia, as well as the physical materials (including animals) required for the performance of rites. This is a very old feature of ritual cultures in the highland region. Origin narratives explaining crucial items required to perform rites occur in the earliest ‘bon’-identified ritual antecedent narratives preserved in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan documents.75 They often incorporate a search motif. This same type of narrative is also well represented in the ethnography of Himalayan shamans. The most thoroughly documented origin accounts concerning ritual paraphernalia of Himalayan shamans are those for the shaman’s drum collected and analysed by Michael Oppitz.76 Examples concerning other types of items have been noted among various societies along the extended eastern Himalayas where shamans are present.77 These accounts are often related to the origins and definition of a primordial shaman figure. The Srid-pa’i lha cult preserves a variety of such narratives explaining origins of, and searches for ritual requisites and substances. Examples of the [Origins of] Fire Narrative (Me rabs) and Lustration Narrative (Tshan rabs) for lustral substances have already been given in earlier chapters, while a genealogy for the ritual plants Ephedra (mtshe) and barley follows in chapter 7. However, narratives explicitly

discussing bon shaman ritual equipment are less common within the cult, nor do they necessarily always foreground the figure of the shaman himself. As an example, the Lcags rabs or Narrative of Iron is given here since it is the most interesting from various points of view. This narrative is always found within the Sel rabs cycle and is thus part of a series for which the gshen Ya-ngal Gyim-kong is the mythical narrator. The relevant narrative sub-series within the cycle includes three rabs explaining fumigation and its requirements, namely those recounting the origins of fire, of plant materials employed as incense and of iron implements employed for the procedure. The version of the Lcags rabs translated here is that chanted at Gortshom in the Kuri Chu valley, and of which variants are used at sites across north-east Bhutan: [10b...] In the beginning, as for iron’s source, from where did

[11a]

it come forth? It came forth from the rGya land, sTan-bzangs.78 It was concealed at the back of the rGya White Rock (rGya-brag dKar-po). The name of the father and patriarch of iron: The father was well named Molten Metal Climax King (Khro-rtse rGyal-po). The name of the mother and matriarch of iron: The mother was well named Melting Point Queen (Zhun-rtse rGyal-mo). Those two procreated and emanated a child who Came forth as a daughter named Black Iron (lCags-nag). She was offered into the hands of the Excellent Smoother Smith (’Jam-’gar Legs-po). The blacksmith, Excellent Smoother Smith, Heaped up charcoal like a mountain. He pumped his bellows like the wind. His great hearth seethed like a lake. His tongs bit like a rat. His hammer flew like a bird. His stone anvil groaned like an ox. That blacksmith possessed of means and wisdom, In making the fabrications which were necessary Hammered out three large bits of iron into big [objects].

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He hammered out the helmet, armour and sword, the three. These three he fabricated to adorn male persons. Three medium-sized [bits of iron] he hammered into medium-sized [objects]. He hammered out the axe, adze and small chisel, the three. These three are the three types of hand tools. The three small bits of iron he hammered into small [objects]. He hammered out the needle, awl and spoon,79 the three. They were made as the three types of work equipment. He hammered out the shallow pan, iron tripod hearth stand and small iron bowl, the three.80 He hammered out the saw, rasp and hammer, the three. [11b] They were made as the three types of equipment for saddlery. He hammered out tweezers, pincers and the iron hook, the three. These three are the three types of seizing tools. He hammered out the mattock, shovel and sickle, the three. These three are the three types of building and harvesting tools. He hammered out the door lock, iron chains and iron shackles, the three. These three are the three types of fasteners. He hammered out the iron sceptre, iron dagger and ritual stand. These three are the three types of implements for offering rites. He hammered out the iron begging bowl, walking stick and cymbals, the three. These three are the paraphernalia of religious scholars and monks. As for the iron ritual dagger endowed with power, It is the paraphernalia of mantra practitioners. He hammered out the sucking-tube, spoon and cauterisation iron, the three. These three are the paraphernalia of doctors.

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He hammered out the shallow and wide pan, the pot with mouth opening and the round brazier,81 the three. They were made as vessels in which to burn. [Incense from] the nine types of trees is burnt in them. The Narrative of Iron is completed.82 Following this impressive catalogue of all essential premodern material culture items made from iron that are used within the research region, the only implements mentioned in the Lcags rabs which the bon shaman uses for fumigation rites are the shallow, wide-mouthed incense pan termed blang nga rgya gling (and variations, cf. CT sla[ng] nga) in local ritual texts, and various metal pots or braziers. They are introduced at the very end of the narrative to provide a connection with the incense to be burnt from the nine tree species that have their own narratives in the same Sel rabs series. The Lcags rabs above is remarkable for presenting the primordial blacksmith and his transformative work in a positive light, even as a kind of culture hero. What does this have to do with the bon shaman and his paraphernalia, and the cultural heritage he represents? For one, it can be observed that throughout the research region, which has long come under the influence of Tibetan-style Buddhism and its associated values and mores, and across neighbouring Tibet, blacksmiths have the very lowest level of inherited social status (CT smad rigs). At various villages that participate in the cult, I noted small communities of hereditary blacksmiths living on marginal land beyond the village precincts effectively as outcastes, and toward whom there exists an absolute prohibition on marriage. This is often explained as being due to the ritually ‘polluted’ nature of their occupation and persons, as well as the negative symbolic value accorded in Buddhist discourse to various of their iron products, but especially weapons and tools which can be used for taking life or harming living things.83 Exactly the same negativity, low social status and marginality accorded to human blacksmiths exists in many Himalayan highland regions influenced by Hinduism.84 The Lcags rabs completely contradicts this universal antipathy towards blacksmiths and their works. It celebrates them, even placing weapons as the first

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order of production the blacksmith can achieve. Secondly, it is precisely within shaman culture-complexes at other sites that we find mythical and real blacksmiths celebrated, and their work valorised in dedicated chants, which are publicly deployed by shamans during their rites. This is equally the case along the extended eastern Himalayas, 85 as it is, too, in parts of premodern Siberia where shaman chants about blacksmiths can bear similarities to Himalayan examples, and where the shaman is sometimes the equal of the blacksmith or intimately dependent upon him and his craft. 86 Reasons for local prominence of these chants apparently vary by location and circumstance, including the mythical and practical necessity for the shaman to employ metal in his key items of paraphernalia, as well as the social background of shamans who themselves belong to blacksmith occupational castes or groups. These blacksmith chants are yet another example of a whole set of shared content in shamanic culture-complexes which keep recurring over very great distances along the Himalayas. When comparing shaman chants of the primordial blacksmith and his iron products from distant parts of the extended eastern Himalayas, it appears that they share some common narrative origins or overlaps. For example, a chant recorded in Naxi pictographic script for premodern D’à n v� funeral rites, and once performed by dtô-mbà ritual specialists for deceased warriors (or ‘the courageous’), describes the origin of the iron sword and other weapons in the following manner: The father of the iron came forth from an iron and copper mountain, And the mother was born from fine white soil. These two had intercourse and there came into existence a sickle, The Muân’-zô-ngû-gk´v [nine sky males] handed the sickle down from heaven Whence it was received by the Dù’-zô-shêr’-gk´v [seven earth sons] on the land. Ggô’-wùa-là-ddô [the blacksmith] forged them. When he worked the bellows it sounded like the roar of the tiger, The sparks which flew off were equal to eagles,

And the striking of the iron sounded like thunder (roar of the dragon). In the beginning there appeared thus the white, sharp, steel sword, the lance, the iron axe, and the arrow-head.87 The parallels with the Lcags rabs in the Naxi narrative are obvious, and perhaps common origins for these types of narratives among shamans are signalled therein. Joseph Rock, who studied this Naxi text cycle, noted that its setting uniquely describes a life world unlike that of the contemporary Naxi. It is a world of pastoralists living to the north, dwelling in white sheep wool tents, using products of the yak and dressed in Tibetan-style robes and jewellery, who were apparently “Qiang” peoples of the north-eastern Tibetan Plateau, and who form some component of the Naxi’s ancestral heritage.88 Rolf Stein cited historical references that the Sum-pa peoples of the north-eastern Tibetan Plateau, who were absorbed into the Tibetan imperium, and who served in Minyak and exchanged brides with Qiangic groups, gave iron as their special form of tribute, and that “excellent iron swords were the speciality of the Ch’iang of Amdo (Namdong, Dong Sumpa).”89 Such older populations would certainly have had very good reason to valorise iron and its transformation through the craft of the blacksmith. Whatever the case may have been, the same narrative type used in cognate shaman traditions is also spread further west along the Himalayas. For example, a Gurung/Tamu pe da lu da narrative named Tsõ da is chanted by po-ju90 shamans of central Nepal to explain the origins of iron, the smith’s craft and his creation of the iron hearth tripod (tsõ): Starting the subject of the tripod Starting the word of the tripod The product of the iron in Krõ is the iron in Śi, in Sa, and in To The product of iron on the path of Krõ is iron on the path of Śi, of Sa and of To [He] brought earth [He] brought ore-stones [He] brought a water-vessel [He] extracted iron [Taking] the iron and the water [he] went to the forge

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î Plate 77. A nyibu shaman-smith, Naba, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2005. é Plate 78. Ornamented pipe bowl made by a nyibu shaman-smith, Limeking, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2004.

Went to the place of the forge Went to the place of the forge With the right hand [he] swept the hot coals together With the left hand [he] pumped the bellows With the right hand he gripped the iron With the left hand [he] wielded the hammer Hammering once, twice, three times, five times, nine times [he] forged the iron [He] fashioned the three-legged stand [He] fashioned [its] three legs This tripod heated the ruler’s home This tripod heated the Lama’s home This tripod heated the wise-man’s home This tripod heated the ɬew-ri’s home This tripod heated the chiefly homes This tripod heated the home of the po-ju Placing the three-legged tripods, [he] set [them] down here before the house

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The tripod at the threshold of the door is the tripod of the hearth-place A tripod there in all and every home A tripod there in all and every place of the village and stream91 The description of the blacksmith’s work process in the Tsõ da chant is again very similar to that in the Lcags rabs, while the Tsõ da’s primordial origin sites for iron, Krõ (‘cosmic subterranean womb’) and Śi (‘wood’), closely recall the Tibetanised name Khro-rtse designating the primordial male ancestor of iron in the Lcags rabs. Moreover, all three narratives chanted by the respective shamans I have just sampled present the identical subject focus: iron’s origins, and how an Ur-blacksmith converts it into the most useful of domestic ironware found in a local society. It is noteworthy that the Gurung/Tamu narrative also occurs together with a similar one named Mi da concerning the origins of

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fire, which recalls some versions of the Me rabs used by bon shamans in direct connection with the Lcags rabs. Furthermore, the Gurung/Tamu po-ju also chants a pe da lu da narrative named Kuseyema on the swidden cultivation of millet. Sections of this are very close in wording and allusion to a le’u narrative on the same topic, the contents of which are mimicked by the kengpa performer who occurs within the same communities in which the Srid-pa’i lha cult is maintained, and who specialises in post-harvest revitalisation rites which are parallel to the rites of bon shamans.92 Furthermore, in my observation, there is a certain conceptual and practical overlap between Himalayan shaman and blacksmith roles, which both define specialists recognised as having transformative powers in relation to the elements. The identity of the primordial blacksmith often remains shadowy in Himalayan shaman chants but may also be explicitly stated to be the shaman himself.93 In the upper Subansiri River basin among small, forest-dwelling populations such as the adjacent Na, Mra and Bai, who obtained most metallic items in everyday use via trade from outside sources until the second half of the twentieth century, it was the local nyibu shamans who often served their communities as blacksmiths (pl. 77). Those I encountered all reported gaining their ability to work with metal in dreams during which they received instructions from their personal shamanic auxiliary beings. This is the same claimed source of all shaman specialist knowledge in upper Subansiri River basin. The main item these shaman-smiths seemed to produce were decorated metal bowls for local tobacco pipes (pl. 78),94 which most mature men and women in the region smoked frequently throughout the day during the period of my field research in the upper Subansiri valley. The example is even more interesting in the present context, because these three small societies with Na, Mra and Bai autonyms may be a residue of migrant peoples from north-west Yunnan whom I hypothesise, in chapter 18, as having a shared ancestral background with the core group of communities who maintain the Srid-pa’i lha cult. In sum, the Lcags rabs used today in the Srid-pa’i lha cult is best viewed within an extended eastern Himalayan continuum of shaman tradition-complexes. These highly likely

share deep ancestral connections via much older migration and settlement processes that occurred from east to west along the mountain chain and the immediately adjacent Tibetan Plateau areas to the north. There is also unambiguous evidence that the sub-genre of ritual narratives which includes the Lcags rabs and other origin accounts of material requirements for conducting bon shaman rites (e.g., the Ephedra origin story in ch. 7) was already recorded in both preand very early post-eleventh century Tibetan manuscripts found around the far peripheries of the Tibetan Plateau. In terms of form and language, the most closely related surviving example is the Narrative of Golden Libation (Gser skyems kyi rabs) preserved in the ca. eleventh century dGa’-thang manuscripts from southernmost Tibet adjacent to the Srid-pa’i lha cult region. Its repeating narrative structure for both ‘beer’ (chang) and ‘gold’ (gser) aspects of gser skyems follows an identical scheme of genealogy, description of how it is used and what it can do in human life, with its actual ritual significance only briefly cited at the very end, all in the same manner as the Lcags rabs. Names in its mythical genealogy have an identical pithy and erotically suggestive style as some of those occurring in the Lcags rabs from the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For example, the ‘father’ of beer is named lHa-chu rNgam-ba(s) or ‘Ardent Thirst lHa Waters’ while the grandmother of gold is called Bye-ma bDal-dro meaning ‘Hot AllEmbracing Sands’.95

6.4 The Shaman’s Patrimony Upon a bon shaman’s permanent retirement or his death, some – or even all – of his durable ritual equipment is passed directly to any new incumbent who receives his transmission. This patrimony typically includes manuscripts, metal items like bells, the ritual horn and some special items of costume such as headgear. If there is a lengthy delay in the transmission, or the lineage ceases altogether, immediate family members carefully keep all the deceased shaman’s items in secure storage. A sealed wooden or woven cane box (pls. 79, 81) or a locked cabinet are used, often the original one the shaman had employed himself on the attic level of the house, or sometimes in the domestic shrine room where other ritual or religious items are kept. Aside

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î Plate 79. Opening a deceased bon shaman’s patrimony stored since the 1990s, and containing manuscripts, a small bell, headgear, carved wooden moulds for impressing on dough, and wild animal bones used in healing rites, Tawang, 2011.

é Plate 80. Small replica house (lower right) built to store a deceased bon shaman’s patrimony, north-east Bhutan, 2012.

ê Plate 81. Leather covered cane basket for storing a deceased shaman’s patrimony, north-east Bhutan, 2012.

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from protecting against any potential upset caused to the ancestral deities associated with the equipment, and keeping secret spells safe from falling into the wrong hands, it is expected that most likely in the future another bon shaman can emerge from the same lineage of agnates after some time, and to whom the shaman’s patrimony would eventually be passed. There is a genuine and deep reluctance on the part of descendants of deceased bon shamans to interfere in any way with their patrimony for fear of negative consequences. In some cases that I recorded, the patrimonies of long deceased shamans had been carefully stored, untouched, over generations. In other cases, the manuscripts of deceased shamans were eventually handed over to local Buddhist lamas because the families did not want them in the house any longer, fearing they were dangerous and might bring misfortune, or because their presence had already been used as a post-facto explanation for negative incidents befalling the household and its members. In one such case, it is known the dGe-lugs-pa school lama consulted by the family destroyed the manuscripts simply because they were ‘Bon’, while in another case the rNyingma-pa lama concerned kept the manuscripts in his monastic library together with other texts for Buddhist rites that were no longer in use.

basket (pl. 81), including a large bundle of manuscripts and the shaman’s musical instruments. The house’s only other features were a small earthen hearth surmounted by the three traditional hearth stones built against the back wall facing north, and a small ritual shelf upon which the basket was placed. Both these features are direct references to the premodern ancestral cult that still persists in some houses, and that are referred to during Srid-pa’i lha rites. Each winter, during a time which formerly governed the staging of the now defunct Srid-pa’i lha festival at this site, the shaman’s living male descendant performs simple rites to honour the lha within the lha’i pho brang storehouse, otherwise it remains firmly locked and no one may enter it.

At one site in north-east Bhutan, where a bon shaman’s lineage died out during the late 1950s, two brothers who were the shaman’s descendants inherited his house. They then divided their household, with the elder brother moving to a new house somewhat further away, and in which he carefully stored his shaman ancestor’s patrimony. Bad fortune then dogged this household. In response, the man constructed a perfect miniature of a traditional Bhutanese house, some three by three metres in f loor area, directly alongside the deceased shaman’s original house (pl. 80), with the patrimony stored inside it as the building’s only contents. This special storehouse is named lha’i pho brang, being the term in local ritual language for temporary shines formerly used in Srid-pa’i lha festivals there. All items of the patrimony are stored within a leather-covered bamboo

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7.

R ite Tech niqu es of Bon sh a m a ns

A qualified bon shaman exclusively performs the principal rites for Srid-pa’i lha worship. In the few cases which proved an exception to this, historical breakdown or cessation in transmission of shaman lineages had led local communities to allow other hereditary specialists who serve as shaman’s assistants – those with sub-shamans status – to continue some of the principal rites, in order that festivals might survive. However, there is much evidence to show that local demise of a bon shaman lineage eventually leads to cessation of the principal rites for Srid-pa’i lha worship at any site, with festivals continuing only in a rather reduced form devoid of their former ritual phases, mythic content and cosmological orientations. The six principal rites I observed as being exclusive to bon shamans are those that cannot be performed by anyone lacking the full transmission passed down a lineage. They include performing ritual texts, deployment of auxiliary beings, undertaking verbal ritual journeys, divination by receiving oracles directly from the Srid-pa’i lha, use of secret spells, and maintenance of the mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’. The six techniques for such exclusive shaman rites are explained in the following sections, and while I do so using specific examples in some cases, there is of course variation in practice between different bon shamans and across the region.

7.1

Performing Ritual Texts

The performance of ritual texts during festivals for the Sridpa’i lha is the single-most important technique used by bon shamans. Performance in this context not only means the act of orally chanting or singing aloud a text from memory. It also entails simultaneously reading or consulting a

written version of the text, moving the body in certain prescribed ways, and orchestrating or leading other performers and actions in concert (pl. 82).

Text-Reading Shamans As noted above, because bon shamans right throughout the zone of Srid-pa’i lha distribution use manuscripts written in Tibetan script to record, transmit and chant their principal rites, they belong to a small and rather unique group of so-called ‘literate’ or ‘text-reading shamans’ in Asia.1 Thus, their textual culture is fundamentally different from those strictly oral traditions reported for all other shamans found westwards as far as west Nepal 2 and eastwards as far as north-west Yunnan. In this latter region, all other currently known text-reading shaman traditions with some historical depth among highland speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages are concentrated in several neighbouring settlement regions.3 They include the Naxi dtô-mbà,4 the Pumi (Premi, Prmi) hangui (or anji),5 the Ersu shaba 6 and the Nuosu (Yi) bimo.7 One can also mention here Qiang bi (also bibo, bimo/ mu, bito and shüpi) shamans further north in the Min Shan mountains of western Sichuan, since they possess and use illustrated divination manuscripts as an established aspect of their primary ritual activities, with David Crockett Graham reporting that “Priests who possess these books claim that they are indispensable.”8 The Naxi dtô-mbà and Ersu shaba manuscripts employ pictographic scripts. In the case of dtô-mbà texts, the pictographs can be supplemented by a second syllabic script called ggò-bàw (spoken geba). Some ggò-bàw characters are

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derived from the Tibetan alphabet.9 The Nuosu bimo use a unique syllabic script, while it is only the Pumi hangui who use the Tibetan script to write their ritual manuscripts. Koen Wellens reported hangui possessing ritual texts written in Tibetan language, with many also in Pumi language written using Tibetan script, as well as parallel maintenance of oral ritual texts.10 This particular Pumi textual culture of the hangui/anji combining Tibetan and local languages written down using Tibetan script alongside oral texts most closely parallels that maintained by bon shamans, and perhaps not surprisingly, premodern Pumi hangui shared many other features in common with bon shamans. We still know little of the content of hangui manuscripts, although the Naxi dtô-mbà manuscripts have been described as “foremost concerned with fertility maximisation”11 which also perfectly describes the main content of bon shaman manuscripts.

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é Plate 82. A hereditary plami shaman chanting a rite from a manuscript and leading the actions of two sub-shamans, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

The time-depth of most text-reading shaman traditions in Asia is difficult or impossible to estimate or has not yet been thoroughly researched. The Naxi dtô-mbà use of manuscripts is estimated by different scholars to be anywhere between three hundred and one thousand years old. In the case of bon shamans, we also have no fixed historical benchmarks. However, as I have already indicated above, and will explore again extensively in chapter 15 and appendix J, bon shamans are without doubt the inheritors of an existing local manuscript culture and narrative tradition for mundane rites in the form of the dGa’-thang manuscripts and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript documented from

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é Plate 83. Notebook pages recording chants from a ritual text in Devanagari script, Namshu, Dirang, 2012.

southernmost Tibet. These can be dated back to around the eleventh century period. Regardless of the cultural permutations we find among various text-reading shamans using different languages and script systems along the extended eastern Himalayas, their use of manuscripts always has the common goal of providing mnemotechnical support. In the case of bon shamans, the goal of providing an effective aide-memoire supersedes the choice of script they use. This is evident with the very recent advent of modern languages and their written scripts in the research region. In the Mon-yul Corridor, for example, some lineages of Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialists who are not – or are no longer – literate in Tibetan, and who have had no surviving manuscripts handed down to them, have

employed the Devanagari script, which is learned in Indian state schools via teaching of Hindi, to record their ritual texts (pl. 83). Thus, these lineages have changed from once being text-reading shamans, losing that status, and gaining it once again but with a different script. In western central Nepal there is also a recent, analogous example. The extensive oral narrative corpus of some Gurung/Tamu po-ju shamans has recently been recorded in written texts employing Devanagari script,12 and perhaps in future the po-ju are set to become a new type of text-reading shaman. The textual mastery the bon shaman must develop as a textreading shaman to properly perform ritual texts requires command over both the spoken and the written word. The boundary between oral and written ritual texts is blurred in many aspects of the bon shaman’s practice. Most of their oral texts exist in complex relationships with written versions, and neither form of a text can be accorded any special status relative to the other. Rather, a bon shaman’s ritual

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texts must be viewed as existing simultaneously – and having the potential to be expressed – in two alternative modes, the oral and thus memorised mode, and the written mode serving as aide-memoire, which are not at all mutually exclusive in practice. Indeed, those who have attained mastery over both modes of a text’s existence can very creatively articulate both oral and written modes. While written versions of the rabs are in fact found and used at most sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, ultimately manuscripts are not necessarily a compulsory item for a bon shaman. Moreover, certain rabs are not so commonly written down. For instance, the actual itineraries of verbal ritual journeys to the top of the sky to invite the lha down are only rarely recorded in manuscript form. The clear preference is to retain these in oral form, perhaps because of the performative character of the verbal ritual journey itself. Depending upon the individual ritual specialist, such rites can involve forms of visualisation and silent mental recitation (see below). A few lineages of bon shamans possess no written texts nowadays. On several occasions, such shamans told me that their lineage manuscripts had formerly been destroyed due to house fires, which are in fact relatively common in this region. At some villages, collective memory has it that due to losses elsewhere, their own bon shaman’s manuscripts were borrowed for copying by shamans from other communities during the past because the latter had lost their own documents, but then never returned. Whatever the explanation, bon shamans without manuscripts have simply memorised all their rabs, which they then only ever express in an oral mode, although they or some literate helper may again reinscribe the oral forms into written form. Additionally, certain shamans who do possess manuscripts from their lineage forebears are themselves non-literate, and they, too, must memorise all the rabs. In fact, many older and highly literate bon shamans can repeat the entire corpus of their written rabs in oral form, simply due to the deep familiarity with the material ensuing from decades of reading and reciting the same texts. One can observe these experienced shamans chanting hundreds of verses perfectly and fluidly from memory throughout the course of a week-long festival, all the while with their manuscripts habitually tucked into their gowns, resting upon

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the altar or even held in their hands, yet remaining bound tightly within their cloth covers which are never removed. The wrapped manuscripts then become a mere prop of habit within an overall material culture of performance. In practice, such persons have become voluntarily ‘post-literate’13 while functioning as bon shamans, due to an attained mastery of their ritual texts in an oral mode. On the other hand, older, non-literate bon shamans sometimes carry their open manuscripts during the performance of rites, and when they loose track of the memorised chant order, or cannot recall the exact wording, a literate assistant at their shoulder will refer to the written texts to prompt them. At certain sites where a non-literate bon shaman is to retire from service, but with no clear successor having been groomed, or apparent, it has been the case that the retiring incumbent will be requested to recite his entire corpus of rabs so that they can be written down in manuscript form for the convenience of the future incumbent, or simply to ensure their preservation during uncertain times of transition. Haplography, and related phenomena of manuscript cultures, are of course a common contingency of such (re-)recording and copying efforts, and thus one predictable source of minor variation within the ritual texts. What all these types of oral and written practices reveal is that, within the textual culture maintained by text-reading bon shamans, texts flow back and forth in various ways between their oral and written modes, and do not necessarily remain exclusively in either one mode or the other. There is much flexibility and creativity possible in practice. All this is also somewhat true of many other traditions of ritual texts created and used within the wider region. For instance, I previously documented very similar types of ‘fluid’ relationships between written and oral modes of the popular genre of ritual guides for places of pilgrimage used in both Tibetan Plateau and high Himalayan areas.14 There has been no study of the exact relationship between oral and written versions of ritual texts in the living performative context among the range of text-reading shamans along the extended eastern Himalayas I cited above. Here I will give two short examples of this relationship as it exists for ritual antecedent narratives (rabs) used during Srid-pa’i

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

lha worship. The first example concerns the hybrid nature of the language many such ritual texts are composed with, and the potentially different meanings that can be generated as a result during performance. These hybrid texts are a blend between features of Classical Tibetan literary language and the local East Bodish language spoken by whichever bon shaman wrote down any specific text in a manuscript. The second example set out below and in appendix D demonstrates precisely the articulation between the text of a rabs written in a manuscript that a bon shaman held in his hand and read or referred to during actual performance of a rite, and the chanted version that he broadcast orally at the same time to actualise the rite.

Hybrid Language A significant proportion of the manuscript texts used by bon shamans are textual hybrids of Classical Tibetan and the East Bodish languages spoken in closest proximity to the Tibetan Plateau. These local languages used to compose manuscripts include Dzala and Dakpa (pl. 87), Kurtöp (pl. 84) and Bumthap (pl. 85). As I will argue in Part V, these languages are spoken by Himalayan groups who, according to all our evidence, represent the oldest ‘core’ of peoples who have maintained and disseminated those elements of the cult of Srid-pa’i lha that can be traced back to southernmost Central Tibet. We can also find bon shaman texts influenced by other more westerly and southerly East Bodish languages and dialects, including Henkha/Nyenkha (pl. 86), and Khengkha. Each hybrid text exists along a spectrum of hybridity depending upon the spoken linguistic background of its narrator and the Tibetan literacy of the specific scribe who recorded it – with narrator and scribe often being the same person. At one extreme, some bon shaman manuscripts read like phonetic transcriptions of locally spoken colloquial languages, while at the other extreme we have almost purely Tibetan literary compositions with only a few words or expressions from local languages incorporated. Some manuscripts contain terms and phrases related to East Bodish languages that are no longer in local colloquial use,

nor understandable to local users of the texts. This may be a marker of the age of the manuscripts and texts they contain. In principle, due to their variability each manuscript must be individually assessed both linguistically and philologically to correctly understand it. However, it is possible to discern some general logic to hybrid compositions, and I will explore one example below involving a form of spoken Dakpa or Dzala combined with Classical Tibetan. The exact nature of hybridity can play a very significant role in generating meaning from any text, and it is thus essential to establish the logic of each hybrid form using a strong working knowledge of Tibetan and close consultation with bon shamans who use the texts and speak the languages they contain. As we will see below, the results of this process can often be ‘fluid’, and the interpreter must draw upon a much more extensive comparative knowledge of all regional narratives and rites within the cult to aid understanding of any specific rabs materials. Plate 87 shows recto and verso sides of a single page from a manuscript booklet belonging to a bon shaman. The text was written down in a Dakpa or Dzala speaking environment by a scribe literate in Classical Tibetan. The actual subject is the beginning of an origin story from of the oldest type of cosmogonic narrative found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. This initial section describes how three ancestral sky beings descended to earth from the top of the sky world upon their magical rMu cords (CT dmu/rmu thag), then took possession of the terrestrial environment and set it in order. These three beings, rNa’u, Tha’u and Yo-long, are all identifiable as old sky ‘ancestor beings’ from their post-position title – here written rje (elsewhere se, zhi, [g/b]zhe[s], [r]je, pyi and phyi) – and are of the same type to which Gu-se Lang-ling/Gurzhe belongs. They are all principal Srid-pa’i lha regarded as clan ancestors among Dakpa and Dzala speakers, as well as gDung clans, and they are discussed in chapters 9, 16 and 17.15 To indicate the hybrid quality of the text, below I provide Wylie romanisation of this passage from the manuscript Lhau 2 on plate 87. The added underlining marks the most unambiguous cases of East Bodish features in contrast to Tibetan, although it is not always clear which words can – or even should be – assigned to one language or the other. Non-standard spellings of apparently Tibetan words are resolved in brackets

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é Plate 84. Manuscript booklet folios written by a Kurtöp speaking bon shaman, recording the chant text of a verbal ritual journey, Shawa, Kurtö, 2012. 2 Plate 85. Manuscript booklet folios written by a Bumthap speaking bon shaman, recording the chant text of a verbal ritual journey, upper Tang valley, Bumthang, 2014. 3 Plate 86. Manuscript booklet folio written by a Henkha/Nyenkha speaking bon shaman, recording the origin narrative of the ritual tree trunk (CT Bon sdong rabs), Bemji, upper Mangde Chu valley, 2014.

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î Plate 87. Recto and verso sides of folio 42 from the bon shaman manuscript booklet Lhau 2, recording initial verses of an origin narrative, Lhau, Tawang, 2011.

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(e.g., so [read: gsol]), but this only concerns known items of vocabulary from older written Tibetan sources that we can philologically demonstrate belong to the same textual and narrative stock as those in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Uncertain or problematic readings are discussed in the annotations and in the commentary to follow. A single case of ambiguous orthography is indicated by {?}, and a deletion in the original by double strikethrough (e.g., yul): ha ho kyi’i ha ho kyi’i rna’u rje tha’u rje yo long rje/ gung rim spang [read: pa] bcu gsum ke ra’u ku dus te / lha mo gung ma gung lcam ku ning ma chi lug / 5 rna’u rje tha’u rje yo long rje’i / lha mo gung ma gung lcam ku khyem phyag se rod rtse / gser ku mu [read: dmu/rmu] thag / rgyu [read: g.yu] ku mu [read: dmu/rmu] thag / dung ku mu [read: dmu/rmu] thag / 10 gser ku ril ti [read: ral gri] / [42v] rgyu [read: g.yu] ku kras16/ ngu’i sku so [read: gsol] lo / ’brus [read: sprul] sku zang bu [read: bzang po] chi’i ne17 rod rtse / bar nams [read: snang] khams ke mu ra babs se ras se / 15 byong yul theg18/ sa rnams se ras se / tshal bu ’tshal la{m?} mras19 rnam se ras se / sa sdo [read: rdo] la rnams byang kha med20 rnamse [read: rnams se] ras sho / tsad [read: btsad] po ning ya21 ma chams lugs / 20 gangs ri dkar po ni tsad [read: btsad] po sa le chod / ri ’o [read: bo] nag po ni thur rje ku sa le chod / yang tsad [read: btsad] po ku / mi la med ku nor rna [read: sna] bcib22 [read: bco] brgyad rod rtse / yul mo namse ras se / 25 nyung ting23 nor rna [read: sna] bcwo [read: bco] brgyad rod rtse / yul mo nams se ras se / yas rtags […] 1

The basic linguistic pattern in this composition is easy to discern. Classical Tibetan names, technical vocabulary and motifs familiar from much older, written myths are framed by East Bodish grammatical particles or markers and verbs, in this case related to spoken Dakpa and Dzala. For instance, we find ’i as ergative, ku as genitive, ke and le as ablatives, ning as conjunction/concomitive, se as non-final, sho as emphatic, with verb constructs such as ma chi lugs, rnam se ras se, rod rtse, and so forth. Nevertheless, in this case some more standard Classical Tibetan grammatical particles or markers are also present. For example, we find te as the lhag bcas semi-final, lo as a final, rnams as a mang tshig pluraliser/summariser (but only following sa sdo la in line 18), and so on. Each bon shaman interprets a hybrid ritual text like the example here of Lhau 2 by drawing upon the oral tradition they received from their predecessors, together with their degree of literacy in Tibetan, and their recognition of colloquial features from East Bodish languages preserved in written form. This last point is not self-evident since the manuscripts are often very old and preserve usages no longer current in everyday speech. I read the Lhau 2 sample text above with two different bon shaman consultants, who gave alternative interpretations of many aspects in the narrative. To illustrate this, I will use lines 2-6 from the text, first listing variations in interpretation under the headings ‘reading 1’ and ‘reading 2’, and then provide alternative translations based upon these two sets of readings. Sample lines 2-6: rna’u rje tha’u rje yo long rje / gung rim spang bcu gsum ke ra’u ku dus te / lha mo gung ma gung lcam ku ning ma chi lug / rna’u rje tha’u rje yo long rje’i / lha mo gung ma gung lcam ku khyem phyag se rod rtse / Interpretations: i. spang: reading 1. ‘meadow’; reading 2. a rim spang variant of CT rim pa ‘level’.

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ii. lha mo gung ma gung lcam ku ning: reading 1. a single female sky being named Gung-ma Gung-lcam in relation to the three male ancestors, where the elements lha mo [proper name] ku together ref lect spoken Dzala lhaku and plaku as general expressions meaning ‘deity’; reading 2. gung ma gung lcam is a generic ‘sky mother, sky consort’ reference implying three female sky beings with this status, one for each named male ancestor, with ku ning as a compounded Dzala grammatical structure denoting the concomitive. iii. khyem phyag se rod rtse: reading 1. khyem phyag means ‘encircle/surround’ (cf. CT ’khyims + honorific suffix phyag), rod rtse means ‘awaken’ or ‘arise’ (i.e., ‘to get up’ from sleep), ref lecting spoken ruzi/rodzi; reading 2. the two verbs mean ‘to marry together’ (for khyem phyag cf. CT khyim thab byas, etc., and for rod cf. CT sprod). Alternative translations: Reading 1: At the time of the rNa’u, Tha’u and Yo-long 24 divine ancestors Coming from the thirteenth meadow of the sky world, They were not with the female lha Gung-ma Gung-lcam. The rNa’u, Tha’u and Yo-long divine ancestors Surrounded and awoke the female lha Gung-ma Gung-lcam. Reading 2: At the time of the rNa’u, Tha’u and Yo-long divine ancestors Coming from the thirteenth level of the sky world, They were not together with female lha [who were] sky mothers, sky consorts. The rNa’u, Tha’u and Yo-long divine ancestors Married and got together with [three] female lha [who were] sky mothers, sky consorts. While the scholarly participant observer describing a festival is bound to favour interpretations by the shaman whose

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chanted and written texts are being recorded as performance at a site, the scope for alternative understandings of ritual texts remains high within the textual culture of bon shamans, regardless of the use of manuscripts. These interpretations are a cumulative product over time, of writing practices used when manuscripts are recorded, and of the individualised interpretations of each reader whenever a text is used. Certain differences in interpretation might have potential consequences in the social world, at least to the extent one can ever really demonstrate that myth and social practice are articulated. For example, the alternative readings of the sampled passage of five lines above imply two different models of affinity. However, it is also well to recall here that meaning can often be overrated by outside observers, and to a large extent its apparent importance represents a ‘hermeneutic’ obsession in Western scholarship that is not evident in the behaviours and concerns of local informants. I consistently observed that, in the ritual context of Srid-pa’i lha festivals which form the only occasions when these texts are publicly chanted, the main point of the texts is the fact and necessity of their oral delivery for a rite, not necessarily the details of their content. Frequently, when a ritual text is chanted by a bon shaman, he and his assistants will be the only persons present to hear it, and when an audience are present they are often too busy socialising to pay any attention to the words, if, that is, they can understand the often obscure language.

Articulating Written and Oral Texts All rites used to worship Srid-pa’i lha have two dimensions: ritual actions performed by the specialists; and the chanted ‘narratives’ (rabs) conveying the rite’s origins, ritual ingredients and equipment, and fundamental steps. It is the nature of rabs, as a form of ritual literature, which demands production of an oral version or mode of any text. The vocal ‘exposition’ (smrang) of a rabs must be publicly chanted by a bon shaman for a rite to be considered complete, valid and efficacious. Such origin stories serve as a kind of archetype, meaning a precedent or original model for the activities of a contemporary shaman performer, with ritual actions

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

supposedly recreating or re-enacting what the characters in the stories did in times past. This is also explicitly related to conceptions of a rite’s efficacy, and we often find final rhetorical statements in rabs are formulated along the lines of ‘what was beneficial in the past shall be beneficial now’. 25 Such simple statements of efficacy occur in the same form in rabs from the pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan era, in those of the immediate post-eleventh century Classical Tibetan era, and in bon shaman narratives used until today. They are one of several tangible markers that the text in question was used for actual performance, rather then for other purposes. In the high majority of rabs performances within the Sridpa’i lha cult, the narrative itself is simultaneously present as both a written manuscript and as a memorised and vocalised oral chant. To illustrate the actual performed relationships between these written and memorised/oral modes, and thus also the special style of exposition characteristic of bon shamans from intact lineages, here I will give documentation of a simple Spos rabs or Incense Narrative performed as part a Srid-pa’i lha festival during December 2012 at the Dzala speaking village of Lawa. The performance was filmed using digital video, together with a simultaneous digital audio recording using another device for comparison, while the written text in the manuscript used by the plami shaman at Lawa during the performance was photographed, read and translated. Complete documentation of the full written and chanted text versions of the Lawa Spos rabs performance is given in appendix D. Below I will merely draw upon a small sample from that documentation to make some observations. Introductory comments concerning the ritual setting, mythical context and written textual status of the Spos rabs text at Lawa will be given first. Performance of the Lawa Spos rabs in December 2012 involved a group of ritual specialists dedicated to the Sridpa’i lha cult. Lawa’s hereditary bon shaman called plami was accompanied by two hereditary sub-shamans, namely the palopa or ‘palo holder’ who bears a ritual device discussed in chapters 9, 12 and 17, and the umpa or ‘horn blower’. Both the latter are exclusively male positions. They were joined by four prepubescent girls termed pla’i lcam, literally ‘consort

of the Pla [ancestral deities]’, whose status and roles are discussed in chapter 8. All were adorned in special costumes, and they formed a circle by standing in ranked order at the Khromagyen ritual ground on the outskirts of the Lawa settlement. Joining this circle after a short time were two very small boys, one the son and the other the nephew of two of the male ritual specialists, and both dressed in clean and neat traditional male gowns. Each specialist wore a white, turban-like crown upon their head, and was barefooted, as per ritual requirements. Ranked in order behind the plami were the palopa, the umpa, the two small boys, and finally the four pla’i lcam girls (pl. 88). The circle they all formed had a large flat stone serving as a simple altar at its centre. Upon this stone, incense sticks were placed in a grainfilled pot, together with a brass pot holding libation water in which a twig of Artemisia was dipped for distributing the liquid, and a small metal incense brazier into which a fresh branch of juniper was inserted. A large wooden barrel containing fresh, locally brewed beer sat beside the stone altar. Led by the plami, the three male shamans simultaneously chanted the text. Their delivery was sung with a distinctive musical quality. The actual pace of the oral chant was determined by the plami reading aloud from the Spos rabs manuscript he held in his hands. As the three specialists chanted

é Plate 88. Performance of the Spos rabs at the Khromagyen ritual ground, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

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line written text

chanted text

3

dang po spos ’thal su’i ’tshal //

dang po spos ’thal su’i ’tshal way dang po spos ’thal su’i ’tshal way su’i ’tshal ay dang po spos

4

rgad po gu dkar gnyis kyis spos ’tshal phyin //

rgad po gu dkar gnyis kyis spos ’tshal way rgad po gu dkar gnyis kyis ay gnyis kyis spos ’tshal ay rgad po gu

5

nyen mo nag tam gleng gleng nas //

nyen mo nag tam ah gleng gleng nas way nyen mo nag tam gleng gleng nas ay gleng gleng ay nas ay nyen mo nag

6

nub mo mun pa dam gyis chod //

nub mo mun pa dam gyis chod way nub mo mun pa dam gyis chod way dam gyis ay chod nub mo mun

7

des kyang spos dang lan ma rnyed //

des kyang spos dang lan ma rnyed way des kyang spos dang lan ma rnyed ay lan ma ah rnyed ay des kyang spos

8

stag shar gnyis kyis spos ’tshal phyin //

stag shar gnyis kyis spos ’tshal phyin way stag shar gnyis kyis spos ’tshal phyin ay spos ’tshal ay phyin ay stag shar gnyis

9

nyen mo ’da’ dang phongs la yengs //

nyen mo ’da’ dang phongs la yengs way nyen mo ’da’ dang phongs la yengs ay phongs la ah yengs ay nyen mo ’da’

10

nub mo mun pa dam gyis bcad //

nub mo mun pa dam gyis bcad way nub mo mun pa dam gyis bcad ay dam gyis eh bcad ay nub mo mun

line written text

chanted text

1

A he /

Aaaheey!

2

da ni lha la khrus rabs yod //

Aah da ni eh lha la, Aaaheey! Aah khrus rabs ha yod, Aaaheey!

3

shar gyi chu bo gangga’i chu //

Aey shar gyi eh chu bo, Aaaheey! Ah gangga’i eh chu, Aaaheey!

4

gangga’i chu dang de dang gcig //

Ah gangga’i chu dang ah, Aaaheey! Ah de dang ha gcig, Aaaheey!

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î Figure 5. Sample of written and chanted texts for the Spos rabs of Lawa.

î Figure 6. Sample of written and chanted texts for the Khrus rabs of Changmadung.

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

through the entire text over a period of twenty minutes, all the performers continually moved using bro steps around the circle in an anticlockwise direction termed a bon skor or ‘bon circuit’. The bro movement, also led by the plami, involved a short step forward around the circle, a ninety degree turn in towards the central altar with the right side of the body, a slight pause, a reverse turn back to the line of the circle, and then the next step forward again. All steps were performed slowly, and without any hand gestures. The ritual materials and equipment positioned within the ritual circle were not used at all during the Spos rabs performance, being merely present, while the actual fumigation rite in which incense was burnt was only performed later in the day. Thus, a sung chant based upon a manuscript, and bro steps by a set of specialists observing ritual requirements were the sum total of the rite’s performance in this case. When the form of the chanted oral text is then taken into account, the performative dimension becomes more complex, as we will see below. Rabs narratives are normally comprised of a number of modules with shorter sub-stories – also defined as rabs, or le’u ‘divisions’ – which frequently depict or refer to a primordial search undertaken to gain what is needed. The Spos rabs is one such sub-story. It comprises a small division of the much larger ritual text cycle called Sel rabs or Elimination Narrative used within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and briefly introduced above in the section on the mythical initiator gshen Ya-ngal Gyim-kong (see ch. 4). It narrates the primordial search for, and discovery of, incense, and how that ritual material was first used for a rite. The wider mythical setting of the Sel rabs relates the necessity of human descent groups, such as clans or lineages, maintaining a stainless relationship with their innate ancestral deities by way of purification rites. The myth describes how primordial human descent lines, called the ‘Four Groups of Little Humans’ (Mi’u-rigs bzhi), defile the relationship with their lha. This specifically concerns those of descent via patriline (pho lha) and matriline (mo lha), the individual life force (srog lha), the mother’s brother (zhang lha), protection from and conquest of enemies (dgra lha), area of abode (yul lha) and site of family/household/community (yul bdag). The

gshen specialist for sel, ‘elder brother’ Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, is called to perform rites so that pure relations can be restored between lha and human beings. Thus, Ya-ngal appears as the narrator of the Spos rabs, and the text commences with him stating he will sing or compose a specific ‘division’ (le’u) of rites for use of incense. The plami of Lawa has two manuscripts containing the Spos rabs. One with thirty-two folios contains the whole Sel rabs cycle is part of a larger volume of manuscripts kept in storage and little used, and obviously serves as a ‘master copy’ from which smaller ‘working books’ have been reproduced for first-hand use during festivals. The other manuscript is a small ‘working book’ in which the Spos rabs text held in the plami’s hands and read during the performance is written.26 The text has three main divisions, which are further partitioned into sets of sub-stories and lists concerning the different ritual materials and activities comprising the sel cycle. The first division is called ‘Elimination [rite] with fragrant smoke’ (Dri zhim dud sel), within which there are three sub-stories narrating: i. the genealogy of nine incense (spos) types required to purify lha; ii. the Spos rabs narrating the primordial search for incense, and its ritual application to purify lha; and iii. ‘Purification of the stronghold’ (Mkhar bsang) narrating types of pollution associated with human activities, especially related to the hearth and domestic animals. In the short extract (fig. 5) from the full documentation of the Spos rabs performance given in appendix D, the left column records line numbers of written text in the manuscript used during the rite, the middle column records the written verse lines, while the right column records the exact words the plami chanted. Text elements in bold type represent vocal embellishments in the oral version not present in the written text. This short sample reveals the exact relationship between the written text of the Spos rabs and its live performance as an oral chant during the rite. The plami shaman chanted each verse line from the manuscript in four successive oral permutations, three of which are unique:

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1. All syllables of each verse line of written text are chanted. 2. Permutation 1 is repeated, but with an initial ‘way’ vocal embellishment inserted as its first syllable. 3. The final three syllables from the written line are then repeated as a refrain, with vocal embellishments framing them: ‘ay’ chanted as the first syllable and either ‘way’, ‘ay’, ‘ah’, ‘eh’ (and elsewhere in the oral text ‘oh’) chanted as the fourth syllable. 4. The initial three syllables from the written line are then repeated as a second refrain, with vocal embellishments ‘ay’, ‘ah’, ‘oh’ and ‘e’ chanted as the first syllable.

sections or even entire rabs in the Srid-pa’i lha cult are by far most commonly based upon a-syllables and ha-syllables and their variants, such as á, ah, aah, a ha, a hey, a hoi, ha, ho, and so on. The same phenomenon occurs in chants by other Himalayan shamans from Nepal to Yunnan.27 On the other hand, exchanging the actual order of syllabic blocks – and thus words – to yield a scrambled syntax or fragmented lexemes for each sentence or clause represented by a line of text, is unique in my experience of documenting ritual chants along the eastern Himalayas between east Bhutan and the Mishmi Hills.

Once established, this pattern continues – with minor exceptions – for all fifty-two lines of the Spos rabs (appx. D). Thus, only permutation 1 literally follows the actual text written down in the manuscript, and even this is not strictly applied; further into the chant a single vocal embellishment is sometimes added at the start of these first lines, thus replicating permutation 2 at those points. The pattern for permutations 3 and 4 means that each middle or ideally fourth syllable within the order of every ideally seven syllable metered line is omitted from both the refrains. One notes with interest that most of the lines which the plami did in fact pause at or skip over during the performance are those with either a lesser or greater syllable count than the ideal line metre of seven. Perhaps this is mere coincidence. However, it could suggest that the coordinated act of reading then chanting to generate the refrain permutations 3 and 4 may be more of a cognitive challenge once a rhythm based upon a set syllable metre has been well established by the performer. One overall result of this fourfold permutation system for chanting text lines is an approximate threefold increase in performance time. Each line of the written text in permutation 1 requires eight to ten seconds for the plami and his colleagues to chant in full, while each fourfold cycle of permutations based upon the same line requires about thirty seconds of chanting (see appx. D).

The relationship between written and oral Spos rabs texts documented at Lawa represents a definite style of chanting among text-reading bon shamans dedicated to Srid-pa’i lha rites. For example, one can compare a sample (fig. 6) of the first four written lines in the Khrus rabs or Ablution Narrative from a manuscript read by the bon po at Changmadung with what I recorded he chanted during the performance of this rite (see ch. 10).

The insertion of simple, non-semantic vocal embellishments, as we have here, can often occur in orally chanted forms of ritual texts in the Himalayas. One point of interest is that initial embellishments occurring at the start of lines,

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Here we see a variation upon the same conventions used at Lawa. Changmadung is located some sixty kilometres south-east of Lawa as the crow flies, over rugged mountain terrain in another valley system where different languages are spoken. Due to a specific migration history, its Srid-pa’i lha worship system primarily represents that occurring in the Kheng region even further afield. What lays behind this close commonality of chant style over great geographical distances must be an interrelated, regional transmission of bon shaman practice that extends very far back into the distant past. The written texts used by bon shamans function as a baseline from which oral elaborations with their own logics are derived. These latter are never written down, and are only transmitted and learned by doing, when chanting alongside experienced shamans within the context of actual ritual performance. This general pattern of relationship between a written liturgy that serves as an outline or guide offering the main points and sequence, and a more fully developed oral practice, is relatively well attested in Tibet and the high

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

Himalayas. An analogous example from a ritual tradition bearing many close similarities to Srid-pa’i lha worship is found in the use of pictographic manuscripts by Naxi dtômbà. Concerning Naxi ritual manuscripts and their use, Michael Oppitz observed that, “The pictographs...serve as mnemotechnical aides for much longer texts not written out: invisible bodies of oral tradition, recited aloud by the ritual specialists.”28 Of the three Lawa shamans who chanted the Spos rabs text simultaneously during the performance described above, both the plami and palopa are literate, while the umpa, who is older and by far the most experienced of the three, is unable to read. It was the umpa who had the text perfectly memorised. Among these three specialists, traditional ritual protocol dictates that the literate plami holding and reading from his manuscript should always lead the chant. It is only he, as the hereditary bon shaman, who has the most actual power (i.e., of his auxiliaries), techniques and authority to directly address the deities. And it is only the plami or his agnatic forebears and descendants holding the same role whom the deities are believed to accept and indeed expect, all others being ritually and morally less fit or even unacceptable for the task. During the performance of the Spos rabs, the flow of the plami’s reading faltered, and even halted on occasion, primarily because he was momentarily caught out by his manuscript pages being jumbled into the wrong sequence. Whenever he suddenly paused for whatever reasons, the elder, non-literate umpa always continued strongly chanting the following line of text with perfect accuracy, until he too was also eventually forced to pause due to the ritual protocol dictating leading and following which must be maintained when vocalising the chant. However, these purely orally supported continuations of the lines by the umpa assisted the plami to once again pick up the text at the correct place, so that he could regain his lead position. These minor instances demonstrated that, in this case at least, the oral version of the text chanted from memory by the experienced, albeit nonliterate specialist was altogether more robust than that of the younger and relatively inexperienced albeit literate one working with the written version.

Narrative Variation I have already discussed inherent variability as one of the defining features of ritual antecedent narratives as a loose genre of texts intended for performance. This feature is also evident throughout the textual culture maintained by bon shamans, in which no two rabs are ever identical. Every shaman lineage maintains its own variations of the same narratives used by others. This is so regardless of whether rabs are preserved in written manuscripts or memorised and orally transmitted. Moreover, proximity plays no role, since two shamans in neighbouring villages will always have two variations on the same tale, while those in rather distant locations can have very similar – albeit not identical – versions. By comparing a certain type of narrative across the text collections of shamans from different communities, it is possible to see how this variation may manifest and what it represents. As an example, the translation in the left-hand column of the following comparison table is the complete second motif module in the written Lawa Spos rabs (original text in appx. D), while the right-hand column presents the parallel second motif module in the written Spos rabs from Tsango. These two sites are both within the Khoma Chu valley – Lawa downstream, Tsango upstream – about fifteen kilometres walking distance apart. Both have their own hereditary bon shaman lineages maintaining the full Sel rabs cycle, while the major rites performed during their respective Srid-pa’i lha festivals share close similarities. The first motif module in the Spos rabs from both Lawa and Tsango is almost identical. The gshen narrator, ‘elder brother’ Ya-ngal, tells how a pair of boys, then a pair of young men and finally a pair of old men successively set off to search for incense, but how each pair uses their time dallying until nightfall, and thus fail, one after another, to find the incense (see appx. D). At precisely this point in both tales, a new set of searchers is introduced in the second motif module. This can be appreciated in the comparison table between the second motif modules of the Lawa Spos rabs to the left and the Tsango Spos rabs to the right:

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[Lawa Spos rabs, last line of the first motif module: des kyang spos dang lan ma rnyed //] A legless cripple and An eyeless blind man, both, Went to procure the incense. They crossed over one pass. They crossed over a second pass. Because they crossed over a third pass, beyond it, As they examined the sides of meadow hillocks at Thog-rgyas, They got hold of some incense, thu lu lu.29 Who did they meet there? A young girl cattle herder. The young girl cattle herder asked, “Legless cripple, whither do you wander? Eyeless blind man, what are you looking for? Legless cripple, what are you looking for?” The legless cripple replied “The legless cripple went in search of some legs. The eyeless blind man went in search of some eyes.” The young girl cattle herder told them, “Legless cripple, I will fabricate substitute legs for you.30 Eyeless blind man, I will fabricate substitute eyes for you. Legless cripple and Eyeless blind man, both, Found the incense!” 31 [end of second motif module]

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[Tsango Spos rabs, last line of the first motif module: de kyang spos dang lan ma snyed /] When departing to procure incense, A legless cripple, one An eyeless blind man, two A tongueless mute, three; What did those three take a hold of? They called the incense ox, and apportioned loads. They tied the belly strap32 to the mdzo. Then going, where did they go? They went up as high as the mChims pastures.33 Who did they meet with on the way? They met with a [goddess] sMan-btsun ’Phyug-mo. sMan-btsun ’Phyug-mo asked them, “Legless cripple, whither do you wander? Eyeless blind man, where are you going? Tongueless mute, what are you saying?” Legless cripple responded, “In our human land, Kyi-mthing,34 The Four Groups of Little Humans are gripped by infirmity. Nothing whatsoever can be done to help with that, So, we will make a sincere offering of incense.” They were determined to go searching for the incense. sMan-btsun ’Phyug-mo Brandished with her hand, And broke off the legs of a seagull. She made legs with them for the legless cripple. Having cut out the tongue of a tame pigeon, She made a substitute tongue with it for the mute. Having plucked out the eyes of nine crows,35 She made substitute eyes with them for the eyeless blind man. She gave them the respective names: ‘Crow eyes’, ‘Good legs’ and ‘Tongue which was not there before’, and said: “From here, you three must cross over yonder! From here, cross the three passes over yonder! The three passes of lHo, Mon and rGya.36 Having crossed the three passes, when beyond them, There are the three plains of lHo, Mon and rGya. Traverse the three plains, it is in that direction.” She ordered them thus,37 lhog se lhogs. There, she bid them thus, tho ro ro. The response with incense38 was instructed, tho ro ro.39 [end of second motif module]

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

There are two levels of variation here. First, there is a range of predictable, minor spelling variations between the two manuscripts. Yet, sometimes these can generate quite different meanings within the narrative during performance if the words are then read and understood exactly as they are spelt. The alternate names for the divine female character in each version provide a good example. The Lawa manuscript orthography reads sman chung phyugs mo, meaning ‘young girl cattle herder’, with sman chung – the common spelling in local texts – being a variant of dialect menshar (sman shar), a parallel form of the male tagshar (stag shar) for ‘young man’. Here the Tsango manuscript reads sman btsun ’phyug mo, which is a somewhat generic female deity name or title found in other Tibetan language myths preserved as rabs. Reading the two orthographies literally generates different meanings, however the two names are phonetically indistinguishable during sung chants. The major variation is the much longer, elaborated motif module in the Tsango manuscript. The reason for the difference is most likely to be explained by the manner in which the bon shamans at Lawa have maintained their manuscript collection. They keep two sets of written texts. One set, comprising two large format, loose-leaf poti-style volumes, remain bound in cloth covers and safely stored, and are never used during festivals. According to village oral tradition, these ‘clean’ reference versions were recopied from older manuscripts for the shaman’s lineage predecessor of four generations ago by a local missionary lama of the rNying-ma-pa school, Chos-dbyings Rang-grol. He stayed approximately one year in the village at the turn of the twentieth century, and was likely repaying his hosts for their long-term hospitality with this service. 40 The other set of manuscripts are a bundle of small folding booklets and loose folio texts – mostly somewhat tattered and dirty – comprising the shaman’s ‘working books’ used during rites. They are copied from the reference manuscripts, and sometimes abbreviations can occur during this process. For example, if a page is missing from a manuscript, that content will be lost when hand copying the text if an oral version chanted by a shaman is not used for comparison. In hand copying there is also the common occurrence of haplography, when the scribe breaks off his work at a certain point,

but then resumes copying at a later point in the text by mistake, resulting in loss of the passed over words, lines or text passage in the copy. The Lawa version of the Spos rabs with the abbreviated motif module cited here is from this ‘working books’ collection. By comparison, Tsango’s manuscript containing the Spos rabs is a very battered copy that looks as if it has witnessed generations of use by shamans and weathered centuries of festivals. The extended motif module in the Tsango manuscript offers a backstory that lends a far more satisfying and comprehensible storyline to the Spos rabs as a primordial search tale. It includes an excellent example of the recurrent cosmogonic and anthropogenic theme of primordial ‘man-bird’ hybrid or co-originated beings introduced briefly in chapter 2, and that feature strongly in the cult. Yet, this is an outsider’s view. It must be understood that when viewed from inside the cult itself, the ritual value accorded both the Lawa and Tsango variants of the Spos rabs as ritual texts for chanting during a rite is considered identical, provided they are well and thoroughly chanted.

Enticement Finally, one can note that informants often remark on the measure of the vocal quality in a bon shaman’s ‘chanting’ or ‘singing’, formally known as gyer/dgyer in some of the ritual texts themselves. This is a decisive factor in who is considered a ‘proper’ shaman and who is viewed as being of lesser calibre. Ideally, chanting a text should be done confidently and fluidly, without hesitation or pause. Most important of all, a compelling or captivating sound should come across in the chant’s tone and modulation, in order that any deities being addressed are ‘enticed’ by the sound as well as the actual meaning of the words. The same criteria for judging the merit of a shaman existed in parts of premodern Siberia.41 One elderly Dakpa speaking informant meaningfully compared the bon shaman’s gyer ‘chanting’ with that quintessential eastern Himalayan act of attracting the mithun ox to come out of the dense forest where it normally grazes

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unattended in what is essentially a wild or semi-wild state. This act of enticement is usually performed by combining several elements in succession wherever mithun are kept in unfettered forest grazing. First there is a vocal call which the animal’s ‘owner’ – or better said, temporary manipulator – has sung to it regularly since its birth, then the simultaneous offer of a salt lick once it appears from afar, and finally a meal of some tender upper leaves of the animal’s favourite bamboo. Most Tani languages east of the Srid-pa’i lha distribution region even have a specific verb to describe these acts.42 The mithun, a large, powerful and sensitive creature, is often described as being ‘semi-domesticated’ in the literature, yet to my mind it is better thought of as being temporarily tamed, with its cooperation only assured through the traditional enticement act combining a habituated vocal component with what amounts to a form of ritualised hospitality. Like the mithun, the Srid-pa’i lha deities, too, are powerful and sensitive beings who dwell in a natural domain of the cosmos removed from the human domestic sphere, and who require the same type of enticement combining compelling vocal and ritualised hospitality components to win them over before they will conform fully to human wishes. The old man’s mithun analogy is most apt. As mentioned in the section on the ritual horn above, acts dependent upon sound which bon shamans employ no doubt have their roots within the sphere of domestic production, especially hunting and animal husbandry. It is also obvious that the old term gyer/dgyer defining the fundamental vocal act constituting a ‘rite’ (bon) in Srid-pa’i lha worship is different from the meaning that the same term has acquired in the context of the g.Yung-drung Bon religion.43

7.2 Auxiliary Beings Bon shamans invoke and interact with beings who function as helpers and protectors during rites. There is no single, indigenous descriptive term for these beings, and they are best defined as ‘auxiliaries’.44 They primarily serve as both helpers and a defence for the shaman. They can also more rarely be used as an aggressive force to repel negative spirits if the latter are deemed to be obstructive, and are sent forth to search for things, such as ritual materials.

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The actual invocation and manipulation of auxiliaries is an esoteric practice normally not accessible to anyone but the bon shaman, and perhaps only in part to his main protégé or assistant. When I conducted my field research using observation and recording, it was frequently difficult or impossible to document rites for auxiliary beings. One reason was that they are usually summoned when the ritual specialist practices alone. Even when access is possible, certain steps in the process have the character of ‘interior rites’ based upon silent, mental recitation and visualisation, which may have little or no externalised audible or visible expression. Finally, ritual specialists are often reluctant to give detailed accounts on this topic when questioned afterwards. This is in part due to a cautious respect for the perceived sensitivity and powers of, and possibility of offending such beings. For the same reason, the headgear and chief ritual implements of the bon shaman should not be handled by anyone else, since they are all intimately associated with the auxiliaries during rites. Many different types of beings are admissible as auxiliaries in Srid-pa’i lha worship. I only briefly introduce them here, while a more detailed listing of common schemes of what I term herein as ‘secondary auxiliaries’ is given in appendix E. Firstly, and as we saw in the section on Transmission in chapter 5, the primary type of personal auxiliary beings are those considered to be patrilineal or agnatic ancestors of a bon shaman. Thus, access to them is strictly determined by hereditary, with this access itself being a defining feature of the bon shaman from the local perspective. The apical ancestors in such lineages are identified with an archetypal ritual specialist named variously gsas, lha, bon [po], gshen [po], gshen lha and more rarely mtshe mi and A ya, as well as a personal identity. For any specific shaman transmission lineage, this figure represents a – not ‘the’ – ‘primordial bon shaman’ since there is no single, regionally acknowledged myth of origin for such a figure. Some shamans who no longer have any knowledge of the genealogy behind their lineage still maintain a single, primary archetypal auxiliary of this type, and one who was probably once recognised as an apical ancestor by their lineage forebears.

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

What can be thought of as secondary auxiliaries represent the same beings as the primary type, and are classed as gsas, lha, bon [po] or gshen. However, they are not generally regarded as personal or lineage ancestors, but more as primordial archetypes that a shaman can identify and have certain ritual relationships with. To access these beings, a bon shaman also needs a transmission of the ability to have relations with auxiliaries, as well as having been taught the rites to do so by his predecessor. These secondary auxiliaries are always invoked to assist any qualified bon shaman in groups of four, five or nine beings related to the four/five cardinal directions, as well as the four interstitial points in the case of ninefold groups. Both the titles and number of beings in these groups depend upon the transmission lineage any shaman hails from, or was trained within. The different groups of secondary auxiliaries I recorded are formerly named: 1. ‘The four bon’ (bon bzhi). 2. ‘The nine bon who are holders of the bya ru’ (bya ru thogs pa’i bon dgu). 3. ‘The five intensely secret lineages’ (gsang chen rigs lnga). 4. ‘The five great gsas lineages’ (gsas chen rigs lnga, also gsas gsang ru bzhi dbal lnga, and gsas rje ru bzhi dbus dang lnga). 5. ‘The four gshen of the elements’ (’byung ba’i gshen bzhi, although five are included). Their individual identities are listed in appendix E. In general, these groups are first invoked to arise, after which they are settled upon the headgear, ritual implements and about the person of a bon shaman when certain rites are performed. More exceptionally, at sites between Tawang and the lower Khoma Chu valley, they are also settled on special ‘hat’-like ritual devices called palo (see below). Some groupings of secondary auxiliaries listed above are also familiar from more formalised religious contexts or texts related to both Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon. At least one grouping, the fivefold rigs lnga scheme, has been appropriated from these religious backgrounds by bon shamans during the past, thus carrying on a venerable tradition of adaptation. The rigs lnga scheme was historically adopted into Tibetan Buddhism at an early stage from

Indian Buddhism, and then later adapted by g.Yung-drung Bon. 45 Old Tibetan documents reveal that the gsas class of beings inserted into this fivefold scheme, including some of their prominent individual identities – such as Gar-gsas – existed prior to the advent of g.Yung-drung Bon, and were thus adapted by its later religious agents from an older Tibetospheric cultural background. 46 The gsas as a class of beings in the Srid-pa’i lha cult have a different status to the religious identities of gsas occurring in g.Yung-drung Bon religious liturgies. Fivefold schemes from both the organised Tibetan religions have been adapted by some bon shamans depending upon which was conveniently in circulation, and then embedded within their own rites. This varies from site to site. An annotated tabulation of some of the auxiliary schemes listed above, with comparisons to those found used in other Himalayan shaman traditions, Tibetan Buddhism and early g.Yung-drung Bon texts, is given in appendix E. From the comparative perspective of an ‘inter-regional shamanic tradition-complex’ along the extended eastern Himalayas, several of the above auxiliary groupings are of high interest since they also occur among shamans whose profiles are very similar to those of bon shamans addressing the Srid-pa’i lha. András Höfer documented a close variant of the bon bzhi scheme among bombo shamans of the western Tamang in Nepal (appx. E), for whom the bon syì or ‘four primordial bon’ represent their primary ancestral auxiliaries, and who are sometimes addressed as grandparents (mème, mam).47 The western Tamang tradition of bon syì is articulated with a set of concepts and in a language almost the same as that we find used by bon shamans in relation to their ancestral auxiliaries. An equivalent of the various rigs lnga schemes of auxiliaries listed above are used by dtômbà among the Naxi of north-west Yunnan. The auxiliaries concerned are termed bpô’-mbò’, which is considered the more ancient term for dtô-mbà, and is cognate with bon po and also Tamang bombo.48 The five Naxi bpô’-mbò’ have the same mythical profile as the auxiliaries of the bon shaman and the Tamang bombo, since their leader, Dtô-mbà Shílô, represents the primordial, celestial dtô-mbà while the group of five are reckoned as his maternal uncles. 49 These Naxi bpô’-mbò’ function in every way like the secondary

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auxiliaries used by the bon shaman, but they may also overlap with their primary auxiliaries, too, since transmission of the dtô-mbà role and traditions is also hereditary.

Auxiliary Invocation While research access to auxiliary rites was difficult or impossible, I was always given complete freedom to read the manuscripts that bon shamans use to invoke and direct their auxiliaries. Employing these texts, I now give an overview of such rites, plus several examples of the exact ritual processes involved. Since the different roles played by auxiliaries during festivals are briefly illustrated in each of the documentation chapters in part IV, here I merely sample several ritual texts used during the complex process of auxiliary invocation and deployment which are not generally accessible to observation in practice. The texts are drawn from ritual manuals in use at Lawa in the Khoma Chu valley, although their content is typical of the same types of rites employed throughout the Khoma valley, along the mid- to upper Kuri Chu valley, the upper Kholong Chu valley, the upper Tang valley, and to a lesser extent at sites along the Mon-yul Corridor. Beyond the primary and secondary auxiliaries mentioned above, a bon shaman can enlist an even wider range of beings for assistance, often in combination with his main auxiliaries. Such recruitment beyond a shaman’s primary auxiliaries is also found among the western Tamang bombo and the Naxi dtô-mbà. There is a fundamental scheme of ritual steps in Srid-pa’i lha worship employed for this latter purpose, as well as for addressing any types of auxiliaries, and even the Srid-pa’i lha in general. It is called ‘nine divisions in a rite’ (bon la le’u dgu). The bon la le’u dgu scheme represents a distinct and old self-presentation of Srid-pa’i lha worship formerly also found in the lHo-brag region of southern Tibet. It will thus be the subject of detailed discussion in chapter 14. The following bon la le’u dgu sequence of ritual steps are those within which procedures for invocation and deployment of auxiliaries occur in the more complete liturgies found in northern parts of the research

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region. The verbs expressing the defining activity of each step are highlighted: 1. Auxiliary beings are initially summoned to ‘arise’ or ‘manifest’ (bzhengs). 2. They are ‘invited’ (spyan ’dren). 3. Their invitation involves stimulating attention by delivering information to them about human problems, a step described literally as ‘giving the bad news/portent’ (than du gtong). 4. They receive respectful hospitality when arriving, including ‘laying out a seat’ (gdan gting), ‘salutation’ (phyag ’tshal), ‘offerings of fragrant [and purifying] incense’ (dri bzang spos kyi mchod). 5. ‘Setting up ritual supports’ (rten du btsugs) for the auxiliaries. 6. Auxiliaries are ‘arrayed’ (bkod) by being ‘placed’ (bzhug) at positions directly upon the body parts of the ritual specialist, and upon his costume and ritual implements. 7. The specialist’s body and speech are said to be either ‘entrusted’ (bcol, skur) to the auxiliaries, and/or ‘empowered’ (dbang skur) thereby. 8. The auxiliaries are ‘invoked’ (bdar)50 in relation to the cardinal directions to perform tasks (defence and attack, search and acquisition, etc.). This series of steps, together with the ninth and final step not used in relation to auxiliaries but elsewhere described as ‘expounding the Srid-pa’i lha genealogy’ (srid pa’i lha rgyud bshad), constitute the overall bon la le’u dgu scheme. Each bon shaman does not always slavishly adhere to the exact ordering of these steps. They can be subject to a certain amount of rearrangement, recombination or omission, depending upon the practice ‘style’ of any individual shaman and the specific circumstances of a rite. Nevertheless, bon la le’u dgu represents an ideal way of conducting a rite. The chants sampled in the following sections represent steps 1-3 and 6 in the list above. Along with step 9 on the list, which is analysed in detail in chapter 14, the four steps treated here represent the longest chants among the nine steps that one can find actually written in ritual manuals, while some of the remaining steps, such as 8 used to

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

invoke the auxiliaries to undertake specific tasks, are never written down.

Initial Summoning Chant One crucial function of auxiliaries is to serve as a protective shielding for the specialist during performance of his rites. Indeed, arraying and placing the auxiliary deities around the whole body is literally referred to in the chants as the bon shaman ‘donning the incorruptible garment’ (sra ba’i gos gon). The sample below of the first chant in the Lawa ritual manual describes how auxiliaries are initially alerted that they are now needed, by being summoned to ‘arise’ or ‘manifest’ (bzhengs): From the upper body above the navel, Arise three hundred and sixty types of lha! From the lower body below the navel, Arise three hundred and sixty lha mo! From the upper vertebrae, Arise four brother lha! From the lower vertebrae, Arise nine Thang-nga sman! From the fingers of the right hand, Arise great gsas of the five lineages! From the fingers of the left hand, Arise five consorts [of the gsas] who are concealed! From the four limbs and the head, Arise five innate patron lha!51 This and the following chants signal an ontological ambivalence in the relationship between the bon shaman and his auxiliaries. The use of the ablative nas in this chant implies that the auxiliaries are in fact already either within the body or directly upon the skin of the ritual specialist himself, and from (nas) where they arise. The perspectives of both indigenous concepts and language and external observations reveal bon shamans are never subject to possession, thus the ontology here is that the shaman and his auxiliaries somehow intimately accompany each other, including degrees of embodiment or incorporation and very close proximity.

In this initial chant, the references to auxiliaries are generic categories only. In addition to the ‘great gsas of the five lineages’ (gsas chen rigs lnga) and their consorts, and the innate patron deities (’go ba’i lha), the other identities invoked here are also known from the Phywa genealogies in gNya’khri bTsan-po myths. The ‘four brother lha’ (lha rabs mched bzhi) are the well-known protagonists featuring in all the ‘master’ ritual antecedent narratives (rabs) of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and the three hundred and sixty lha and lha mo are emanations – and sometimes ‘companions’ – of lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal himself. The various Thang-nga goddesses are significant. This thang nga (also tang nga) element occurs often in the names of women and female deities in Old Tibetan narratives. It is also found used in the later myths to designate the consorts of ’O-de Gung-rgyal, as well as the daughter of Ya-lha rDal-drug and the paternal aunt of gNya’-khri bTsan-po.52 These associations between the myth of the progenitor emperor and the bon shaman’s auxiliaries should not surprise us. The idea of an intimate association between lha and specific body parts is already evident in the early Phywa genealogies just mentioned. In those sources, a series of deities are born from body parts and are thus identified with and named after them, including those for the neck, ribs, the body itself, the heart, throat, tongue and vertebrae (or joints).53 While myths can serve as traditional precedents for rites, they are composed to explain or justify – and are thus derived from – what is already being done in the world. These old references to body parts and deities very likely reflect earlier rite techniques using auxiliaries, such as bon shamans still practice today.

Invitation Chant Following the initial summoning, the auxiliaries must then be ‘invited’ (spyan ’dren), and ‘given the bad news/portent’ (than du gtong) – meaning the specific human problem a bon shaman is addressing with the intended rites – to stimulate their active participation. Here a series of ritual antecedent narratives are chanted, establishing a precedent for, and defining the activities of, a rite. These myths, and the specific ingredients and techniques they introduce are

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directly derived from very much older practices recorded in Old Tibetan documents. The example translated here cites the origins and use of stalks of the Ephedra (mtshe) shrub and barley grains. In this case, the auxiliaries are now being more specifically classed as lha and gsas headed by a primordial gshen being, gShen-lha ’Od-dkar, who is attended by five named gsas arrayed in the cardinal directions: [36a...] bSwo!

Although the lha arose and the gsas arose, [36b] The lha and gsas were never invited. The bad news was not dispatched to the lha and gsas. The bad news was not given to the lha and gsas. Request an invitation for the powerful lha and gsas! To invite the lha and gsas, There is no swift messenger. Send some Ephedra (mtshe) as the swift messenger! The grandfather of Ephedra Was on the golden rocks, zeng se zeng. The grandmother of Ephedra Was on the shores of the turquoise lake, khil li li.54 Its father was mTshe-pho Rang-rong (‘Ephedra Male Rugged One’). Its mother was mTshe-ma rDzangs-’dzin (‘Ephedra Mother Send and Receive’). As sons, they produced the mTshe-bu Rus-dgu (‘Ephedra Sons Nine Patrilines’). The Ephedra sprouts grew up, sha ra ra. They were as blue-green [in hue] as a turquoise lake, lhag se lhag. That Ephedra gives bad news to the lha. Some barley is sent as a message to the gsas. [37a] As for the ancestors of barley, Its grandfather was Sky and its grandmother Earth. Its father was Warmth and its mother Moisture. Sons were born to Warmth and Moisture. Their sons came forth as nutritious grains of barley. In the beginning, when this was [first] beheld, who was the beholder? It was beheld completely by the eyes of lHa-bu lHa-sras.55 Take hold of method with the right hand. Take hold of wisdom with the left hand.

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Bow down to the blue Ephedra as the conveyance. Bow down to the white barley as the lha’s grain. Bestow them into the hands of the purified lha bon. The purified lha bon brings them together, With the little man of white barley mounted Upon the little horse of blue Ephedra, Whipped by the hand of a golden libation, [37b] That Ephedra is extended to the lha as a message. In the presence of the lha and gsas, The little horse of blue Ephedra Conveys [the message], breng se brengs, While the little man of white barley Is loaded on that Ephedra, thod se thod. The bad news is orally reported, si li li, The deed of delivering the message of human beings to the lha is done. Seize the Ephedra and the barley! Hurl them into the expanse of the sky all around! Manifest a lion of conch in front [of you]. This is the invitation for Dus-gsum gShen-lha ’Oddkar to appear to human beings. From out of the mandala of the sky all around, From the gsas-palace which is the light of the true nature of reality, [38a] Come, gShen-lha ’Od-dkar, with your lha host of one hundred thousand who will work for you! Seize the Ephedra and the barley! Hurl them into the expanse of the sky to the east! Manifest a tiger of gold in front [of you]. This is the invitation for Gar-gsas of the east to appear to human beings.56 At this point in the long and repetitive chant, the sequence of invitations by hurling Ephedra and barley into the sky in each cardinal direction continues on from gsas Gar-gsas. Each of the other ‘great gsas of the five lineages’ (gsas chen rigs lnga) are called respectively to appear from the cardinal directions and the centre, namely rGod-gsas (north), gSas-rje (west), gNam-gsas (south) and dBal-gsas (centre), along with a whole host of other auxiliary beings who attend them (see below). Ontologically, the auxiliaries now appear to be separate beings that are spatially distant from the bon shaman.

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

Lawa 2, Text 10

IOL Tib J 734

pha ni mtshe pho rang rong lags // ma ni mtshe ma ’dzang ’dzin lags // bu ni mtshe bu rus dgu byung // mtshe khrung cha ba sha ra ra // g. yu mtsho sngo dang lhag se lhag //

[...] pha yab mtshan ni mtshe ba rang rong / ma yum kyi mtshan ni mtshe ma / [---] / pu [read: bu] mtshe bu khrun bzangs / mtshe bu [---] / thog ya ru bltas na / the brIng bring na / g.yu [---] /g.yu mong re sngo /57

Ritual use of Ephedra with barley, and the class of gsas beings here all feature in a range of very early myth and rite descriptions involving bon ritual specialists recorded in Old Tibetan documents, as well as other manuscripts which were composed approximately around the eleventh century period. It is obvious there are strong continuities between those early narratives and practices and the local liturgies and rites used by bon shamans still today. For example, the genealogies of Ephedra and barley in the chant above appear derived from genealogies of Ephedra and barley occurring in Old Tibetan ‘ransom’ (glud) narratives in the document IOL Tib J 734. We find almost identical names and parallel formulations there compared with the local rabs in the Lawa 2 manuscript just translated (fig. 7). The missing name of the ‘Ephedra mother’ in the second line of the IOL Tib J 734 passage, and equivalent to mTshe-ma Dzang-’dzin in the local text, is most likely mTshe-ma’i Khrun-bzangs occurring four lines higher up in the same Old Tibetan document (3r87: ma yum kyi mtshan ba / mtshe ma’i khrun bzangs). We also find use of a set of parallel names, expressions and terms in the respective sections of the Lawa 2 and IOL Tib J 734 manuscripts. For example, there is lHa-bu lHa-sras parallel with the Old Tibetan Bla-bo Bla-sras (4r165), mtshe khrung parallel with mtshe ’khrungs (7r284), g. yu mtsho sngo parallel with g.yu mtsho sngon mo (4r131), and so forth. The dGa’-thang manuscripts from nearby gTam-shul also feature use of Ephedra as a ritual messenger together with barley and other items. In the Gnag rabs rites, a combination of Ephedra, white mustard seeds, and white barley is cast around in the four cardinal directions and interstitial spaces as part of ‘sending a messenger to the enemy’ (gra’ bo la pho nya gtang ba) during a magic rite.58 The verb ’phen

î Figure 7. Comparison of text passages on Ephedra in Srid-pa’i lha cult and Old Tibetan texts.

(‘to hurl’) applied to Ephedra in this type of bon shaman rite belongs to a long and old pedigree of strewing this sacred plant as one of two basic means of deploying it in rites – the other being planting or attaching it to a living being. Thus, in the dGa’-thang manuscripts Ephedra is the object of the verb gtor (‘strew’, ‘scatter’) and in the Old Tibetan document IOL Tib J 734 it is the object of both the verbs btang (< gtong, ‘cast away’, ‘broadcast’, ‘send off’) and bor (‘throw’, ‘scatter’).59 The ethnographic record of Ephedra’s actual use as a ritual messenger in the cult, serving as a link between ritual specialists and their auxiliary deities is, to my knowledge, unique across the wider Tibetosphere.60 This obviously old tradition is thus limited to southernmost Central Tibet and the immediately adjacent region of the cult’s distribution, in the same way the named, human mtshe mi or ‘Ephedra man’ as a non-religious ritual specialist also appears to be limited to exactly that historical geography (see ch. 5). Ephedra species more typically grow on the arid Tibetan Plateau lands immediately north of the research region, and mostly occur as small or even dwarf shrubs. Ephedra gerardiana grows in the highland valleys of north-east Bhutan, where southfacing valley environments get ample sunshine, as well as high precipitation due to the South Asian monsoon. In these warmer and moister habitats the stems of this species can grow up to a metre in length, and thus become more ‘cane’-like as a result. This is exactly how the plant appears in the iconography of the cult (see ch. 4). However, these Ephedra gerardiana habitats are effectively cut off at the times when Srid-pa’i lha festivals are usually staged, particularly during the late Monsoon period when bridges are washed out, and the early winter when snows block access routes. Such difficulties in obtaining the fresh plant mean it is mostly substituted in practice by the pungent stalks of

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Artemisia spp. Plants of this genus, along with Ephedra, juniper and the ‘incense rhododendron’ called ba lu (Rhododendron anthopogon), are the four most important ritual plants – excluding altar trees – used directly in the bon shaman’s individual rite techniques. These four plants all naturally occur within the local ecology of the cult’s distribution. This fourfold combination is striking, since it also forms the quartet of plants identified as the ‘four nectars’ (rtsi bzhi) in the works of some Tibetan lamas and medical practitioners. These are essential ingredients for ‘essence extraction’ (bcud len) techniques that overlap the domains of medicine and religiously motivated alchemy within the framework of Tibetan Buddhism. Concerning bcud len and the component ingredients used for essence extraction, medical anthropologist Barbara Gerke, quoting traditional sources, has observed that: [T]heir juices are extracted and consumed, the body will escape the disease of old age and resemble the body of a sixteen-year old [...] They are also an expression of the popular and religious idea in Tibetan societies that vital essences can be extracted from the outer elements and made available for humans and animals to support health and physical vitality.61 It may be more than coincidence that these four plants famous as being life supporting and revitalising in the medico-religious context are central to the practice of bon shamans whose rites are all aimed at the same goals. However, that is all we would want to venture without mixing up what does not belong together. The ritual use and symbolic value of plants like Ephedra within the Srid-pa’i lha cult belong to a clear and very old, yet separate pedigree of rites serving mundane goals, one that is traceable via the dGa’-thang manuscripts back to still earlier Old Tibetan ritual texts. The conception of these plants as animate auxiliaries whose primordial genealogy features in aetiological myths is more typical of the culture of Himalayan shamans and ancient rites recorded in Dunhuang manuscripts than anything we know of from Buddhist essence extraction traditions, or for that matter medical traditions. Furthermore, in context these plants are neither regarded as exotic nor subjected to elaborate theories, such as the formal traditions of religion

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and medicine. Rather, they are merely living constituents of the natural ecology within which bon shamans operate, to be invoked and harnessed when required for promoting life.

Arraying and Placement Chant Once all the possible auxiliaries are informed and activated, they must be ‘arrayed’ (bkod) by being ‘placed’ (bzhug) at positions directly upon the body parts of the bon shaman. In other chants this process is extended to the shaman’s headgear and ritual implements, with the drum and the flat bell specifically mentioned, examples of which are given in the chapters of part IV. When it comes to the detailed positioning around the body of the ritual specialist, the identity of each lha or gsas becomes highly specific and body-related, with most understood to be included within the set of three hundred and sixty lha whose existence mythically depends upon the alpha-progenitor lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal: [46b...] bSwo!

Now, I request the arraying of lha upon the body. I request a proof banner62 of this in the mind. I request to don the incorruptible garment. At the very crown of the head The bTsug-gsas and its retinue have been placed. [47a] It is the lha who is invited to the crown of the head. The lha is placed there; I entrust it to him. The gsas is placed there; I entrust it to him. On the right and left ears Dwells sNyan-gsas Has-po. This is the lha who reports what is heard. On the right and left eyes Dwells mThong-gsas sGron-me. This is the lha who sees as far as can be seen. Upon the bridge of the nose Dwells Shangs-lha Rum-bu. This is the lha who smells what is offered. On the top edge of the teeth Dwells Za-byed dBal-po. This is the lha who gnaws at enemies like a hare [chews the grass]. On the upper surface of the tongue

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[47b]

Dwells sMra-gsas Thog-pa. This is the lha who produces truth and lies. Concealed within the throat Dwells mGur-lha gSang-pa. This is the lha who broadcasts the sweet call of the Cuckoo. On the upper vertebrae Dwell the four bother lha. The four brother lha are the sons of phenomenal existence. On the lower vertebrae Dwell the nine Thang-nga sman. They exist as the nine lha of phenomenal existence. They are the lha who are protectors of phenomenal existence. Atop the right shoulder Dwells Pho-lha Kya-dgu. This is the lha who dispatches bodily power outwards. Atop the left shoulder Dwells dGra-lha Dar-ma. [48a] This is the lha who conquers enemies that break promises. On top of the rising [and falling] chest Dwells Srog-lha gNyan-chen. This is the lha who holds us while we have lifespan and vital force. Concealed within the navel Dwells Ma-lha Bu-rdzi. She has [both] the loving kindness of a mother and gives prolonged beatings. On top of the right knee Dwells sTag-gsas Khro-bo This is the lha who completes the nine sharp points in the body. On top of the left knee Dwells gZigs-gsas Thig-le. This is the lha who combines the nine ornaments. On the right and left shins Dwells g.Yag-gsas Ngar-ba. This is the lha who carries the great conveyance [i.e., the body]. On the right and left ankles [48b] Dwells the king of birds, Bya-khyung dKar-po.

This is the lha who comes back when one tarries. On the right and left soles of the feet Dwells Klub-gsas sGron-me. This is the lha who takes flight when one stamps the feet. To those lha dwelling [on my body], I entrust it. To those gsas dwelling [on my body], I entrust it. The lha are arrayed on the body! The proof banners of this are in the mind! The incorruptible garment has been donned!63 In this chant, the intimacy between shaman and auxiliaries is reiterated. This is reflected in the names of each being, which frequently reflect the shaman’s body parts and their faculty or function. For example, Za-byed dBal-po, sitting on the edge of the teeth, literally means ‘Sharp One Doing Eating’, Srog-lha gNyan-chen, on the chest, is ‘Very Powerful Life-Force lHa’, and so on. Even the professional names of earlier ritual specialists who were likely predecessors of bon shamans mentioned in the dGa’-thang manuscripts have meanings suggesting the same intimacy between practitioner and auxiliary found in the above chant. For example, there are two human composers of rites whose names are directly cited in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs collection. One is the Phag bon specialist named gSras-khri, which literally means ‘The gSas Throne’, while the other is called Gar rGos-pa or ‘The One Clothed in Gar [gsas]’, and such names may have already been in use for ritual specialists during the Tibetan imperial era.64 It must be remembered that the above examples of auxiliary chants represent what is used at a single site by only one transmission line of bon shamans, although they are also representative of the chants used across the northern zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship. What is certain today is that bon shamans remain non-dogmatic about their auxiliary practices. There is no single ‘correct method’, and no orthodox liturgy. The only point of local importance is the set of identities and practices any individual shaman gained from the transmission of his lineage predecessor. Examples of this prevailing attitude evident in the above chants are not only the sheer range of different identities that can be in play, but also the interchangeable status of the category references

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lha and gsas, with the same applying when the auxiliaries are classed as bon and gshen in similar chants used at other sites. Bon shamans are never precise at this level of classification since all beings so designated represent potential auxiliaries. Moreover, the ontological boundaries implied in such rites are obviously blurred and complex. We might ask what, if any, clear distinctions can be made between a bon shaman and his primary ancestral auxiliaries? The deployment of auxiliary deities around the bon shaman’s body – and in other examples, also on his costume and ritual implements, but especially the headgear, drum and flat bell – shares many close similarities with the manner in which other Himalayan and premodern Siberian shamans relate to their own auxiliaries. However, it is the auxiliaries’ possible status as ancestors in particular which makes us think of the role of the old Tibetan sku bla “considered as the ancestors of the kings who protect them, tutelary divinities who also sit on the body.”65 The same rites can also - but not always - contain formulaic aspects which recall some identities and practices found in the tantric forms of rites used in Tibetan-style Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon. This should not surprise us, for the bon shaman’s ritual culture is not governed by orthodoxy, and assimilations are always possible depending upon what creative individual shamans might regard as being particularly effective for their rites. In these auxiliary rites we are very likely observing different phases or sub-strata of ritual development in which practices that are the domain of shamans with ancient roots in Himalayan shaman traditions and the Tibetan sku bla cult, and those which are more typical of regional salvation religions, have influenced each other over time.

7.3

Verbal Ritual Journeys

Worship of Srid-pa’i lha invariably involves sophisticated verbal ritual journeys that are exclusively undertaken by a bon shaman who chants an itinerary while remaining stationary. Martin Gaenszle described such rites as being “a special phenomenon in the indigenous religions of the Himalayas”, and that the verbal ritual journey “is not only a text which ‘describes’ a journey; it is unique in that it creates

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the journey at the moment of utterance.”66 The obvious ethnographic parallel elsewhere in the broader Asian context are various ‘upper world’ and ‘lower world’ ritual journeys chanted by shamans in certain regions of premodern Siberia. These journeys are often referred to as instances of ‘soul flight’ in popular accounts, and, as we will see, this description fits the case of the bon shaman. We also know that chanted ritual journeys with all the features of those undertaken by contemporary Himalayan shamans were recorded in ritual texts written in Tibetan language a millennium or more before present, as I will discuss at the end of this section and in chapter 15. This does not mean such ritual journeys were originally or necessarily ‘Tibetan’. Rather, they appear to be a very old and widespread cultural practice evident around the margins of the Tibetan Plateau, and thus one known to writers of Tibetan manuscripts at remote oasis sites like Dunhuang in the Hexi Corridor, or along the interface of southernmost Central Tibet with the eastern Himalayas where collections of old manuscripts have been discovered. Indeed, aside from the Plateau margin regions just cited, and a few myths that were composed in such areas, we have no actual historical or ethnographic records of any verbal ritual journeys of these types from the majority of Tibetan Plateau highland regions. To date, intensively studied examples of verbal ritual journeys performed by Himalayan shamans almost all concern those documented in highland Nepal.67 By comparison, there exist very few records of analogous journeys recited by specialists who can be categorised as shamans along the remainder of the extended eastern Himalaya,68 while little is known of the phenomenon as it exists anywhere between eastern Nepal and north-west Yunnan. The studies from Nepal offer a convenient point of departure and comparison for considering such ritual journeys in Srid-pa’i lha worship much further to the east.

Journey Types Summarising verbal ritual journeys by shamans in Nepal, Gaenszle usefully distinguished two types according to their “intentionality”: Moving towards a distant place

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taking something there, usually removal of what is undesirable or dispatching what should not, or no longer, be present; and coming from a distant place bringing something back, usually involving a search, acquisition and retrieval scheme. This distinction is of only partial use for considering the phenomenon as it occurs in Srid-pa’i lha worship. Among bon shamans, we also find two types of journeys, although these must always be understood in terms of distinct outbound and inbound phases: 1. One bon shaman journey type is rather infrequent, related to ‘ransom’ (glud) rites, with two examples described in the documentations for Changmadung and Thempang in chapters 10 and 11, respectively. These glud journeys closely match the search (outbound), acquisition (distant destination) and retrieval (inbound) pattern inherent in the latter type of journeys Gaenszle describes for Nepal. Thus, I will comment no further on them, except to note that they never feature descending vertical itineraries to any ‘lower world’, as sometimes occurs in Nepal. As with all Srid-pa’i lha worship, ritual and cosmological interest in the lower world and its denizens is as good as non-existent within the framework of the cult. 2. The second, by far most common, bon shaman journey type is termed Lha zhu, ‘to request/invite lha’. Its outbound intention is to deliver both information and an invitation to a lha being who abides in another, distant cosmic region – the sky world above in this case – while the concomitant inbound intention is to escort the invited lha from their sky abode directly back to a terrestrial site of worship. A third, outbound leg of such journeys, which is not always considered necessary, involves once again escorting the lha back along the same itinerary up to its sky abode when the rites involving it are completed. 3. There is a second variation on the Lha zhu form that I term the ‘guided enticement journey’. The rite involves chanting elaborated forms of reassurance and persuasion to the lha, as well as a basic itinerary, and during which the bon shaman can employ his auxiliary being(s) as envoy(s). Because both variations of the Lha zhu journey invite and escort or guide Srid-pa’i lha from the top of the cosmos directly down to the altar and back up again, they are fundamentally different from the known journey patterns used

by shamans in Nepal and at other places along the extended eastern Himalaya. In those latter journeys, an opposite logic prevails, that of the shaman undertaking elaborate visits to transact with deities who remain in their distant places of abode. In the case of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, journeys which result in bringing the distant sky beings down to the altar have older mythical parallels in the ‘invitation principle’ evident in earlier Tibetan cultic systems. This determines a range of different characteristics for such journeys. Other points of distinction between the many verbal ritual journeys so far described for Nepal and those occurring in Srid-pa’i lha worship are their cosmic, cardinal and topographical orientation. Journeys described from Nepal to date are – relatively speaking – overwhelmingly horizontal in relation to the proximate environment, linking terrestrial start and end points by traversing across the topography. There are also, moreover, various journeys downwards into the underworld. A more complex understanding of cosmic and cardinal directions is evident in some journeys from Nepal. The vertically ordered layers of the cosmos are superimposed upon the north-south axis, such that, for example, we find associations of uphill/north/ vertical/heavenly domain, with the world space conceived of as an “inclined plane” in which “altitudinal differences from north to south in the real topography become vertical grades in the transcendental universe.”69 By comparison, such accommodations – and the need for their analytical explanation – play no role in the far less ambiguous journeys chanted for Srid-pa’i lha worship. Return Lha zhu itineraries undertaken by bon shamans include an initial, relatively horizontal phase across, yet steadily rising through, the landscape, which then, at a certain highland point in the landscape, abruptly switch to a stratified, upward vertical phase. These latter phases strongly reflect the vertical cosmography introduced in chapter 2 that is comprised of a series of distinct levels, and one being logically determined by the Srid-pa’i lha dwelling at the top of the sky world. Journeys with an initial upstream phase plot a terrestrial itinerary from the place of worship to a specific ‘lift-off’ – and concomitant ‘touch down’ – point, and only at these points do they switch to their strictly vertical phase, with stratified upward itineraries leading towards the ultimate

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destination (fig. 8). Moreover, to further emphasise the comparison, we can note that unlike the journeys found in Nepal, the Srid-pa’i lha cult contains none whatever leading below the surface of the earth, nor any outbound itineraries that move southwards or downstream of a bon shaman’s altar. It is also the case – with but a single exception – that every shaman’s verbal ritual journey so far recorded right along the eastern Himalayas within Arunachal Pradesh70 to the east of the Srid-pa’i lha cult region has the same relative horizontal, terrestrial or subterranean characteristics as journeys documented in Nepal. Thus, the typologically distinct bon shaman ritual journey itineraries have a different genealogy, and this can be traced back in time and space as I will do below and in chapter 15.

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é Figure 8. An upstream, northward itinerary following the Kuri Chu river valley from Shawa village in Kurtö to the Tap La lift-off point in lHo-brag. Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus.

Furthermore, outbound Lha zhu itineraries for every initial horizontal phase run consistently northwards towards the lift-off points for the vertical phase. The initial terrestrial phase invariably follows river courses (chu rgyud) upstream. Then, the lift-off points are located in the upper catchments of the rivers (fig. 8), at highland or headwaters areas generically termed phu which can designate upper slopes, hill ridges, passes, glaciers and snow, but never directly upon mountain summits. The pattern can be summarised as:

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upstream > vertical ascent into sky + descent from sky > downstream Another regular feature of most itineraries is that the northward, upstream itineraries arrive at lift-off points both within, and close to, the southern highland boundary of the lHo-brag region of the immediately adjacent Tibetan Plateau lands. The example plotted on figure 8 shows such a northward, outbound itinerary chanted by the bon shaman of Shawa in Kurtö to bring the ancestral deity Gurzhe down to the altar for the calendric Srid-pa’i festival.71 The Shawa itinerary departs from the rTa-pho Phug-pa, or ‘Stallion Cave’ (2200 metres), which represents the earthly destination point down to which Gurzhe and his f lying stallion mount will be guided during the festival at Shawa. It then passes sixty-three horizontal kilometres upstream along the Kuri Chu river, crossing over more than 100 named and identifiable places in the local topography. Next, it arrives at the high lift-off point of Tap La (CT Khrab La, 4832 metres) in lHo-brag. From there, it proceeds vertically upwards to the top of the thirteen levels of the sky world (fig. 8). The return, inbound itinerary is a precise reversal of this outbound one. The Tap La lift-off point in southern lHo-brag is located at the heart of the ancestral homelands of the Shar Dung population. These Shar Dung, many of whom migrated southwards into adjacent Himalayan river valleys of north-eastern proto-Bhutan, such as the Kuri Chu valley, are the most likely transmitters of one of two major cultural strata that can be identified within the Sridpa’i lha cult. All substantial origin and migration narratives recorded for Srid-pa’i lha worship communities conform precisely to this pattern of journeys back to ancestral places in southernmost Tibet. Thus the northward, upstream itineraries and northern, upward lift-off points defining such verbal ritual journeys must be analysed in relation to data on possible ancestral origins and migrations, as I will do extensively in chapter 16. The characteristics of such verbal ritual journeys in the cult all belong to a common cultural pattern found in both the ritual journey itineraries and origin and migration narratives of those societies who participate in various inter-regional shamanic tradition-complexes along the extended eastern Himalayas. The ancestors and their

realms, and the places of origin from where migrations were undertaken – and therefore these peoples’ pasts – are all conceived of as being ‘up north’, most frequently upstream along river courses. For the case of the Naxi, Charles McKhann aptly described the spatial conceptions in these journeys to ancestors as being “profoundly linear”, as well as recalling that the Naxi dtô-mbà pictograph for ‘north’ depicts the head of a river and that for ‘south’ the tail of a river.72 Unambiguously comparable journeys featuring a dominant, stratified vertical itinerary of the type most commonly undertaken during Srid-pa’i lha worship have only very rarely been recorded elsewhere throughout the extended eastern Himalayas. Most are in fact concentrated far to the east of my research region. They include the Daoreh rite of chambring shamans among the Digaru Mishmi, the meŭsòq-wà rites of Drung nàm-sà shamans, while two different Naxi funeral rites chanted by dtô-mbà ritual specialists feature such journeys.73 Mewahang Rai worship of Sara ṅ dew/Rùrùhaŋ by a ‘tribal priest’, and his special bhägimi assistant, represent a unique geographical outlier to the west.74 The Drung, Digaru and Mewahang rites form a highly cognate grouping in relation to Srid-pa’i lha cosmology since each case serves the same goal of revitalisation: obtaining life-sustaining powers from the sky or ‘upper world’ to ensure vitality and/or fertility for kin or clan on earth. Thus, apart from the exception of the Mewahang rite, in general the available records reveal two significant geographical clusters of stratified, vertical itineraries for verbal ritual journeys undertaken by Himalayan shamans. One occurs in the east between north-west Yunnan and the Mishmi hills, and the other much further west in my research region. In chapters 17 and 18, I consider this geographical distribution as another example of a far larger set of evidence demonstrating specific ancestral connections between the region of the cult and north-western Yunnan and some of its adjacent regions. Looking back into the past, there are several very old itinerary types possessing features that overlap with our Himalayan ethnographic data. They are preserved within antecedent narratives in both Old Tibetan and ca. eleventh century sources. I will examine the vertical journeys in the old

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dGa’-thang and Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts in detail in chapter 15. As for pre-eleventh century itineraries, Brandon Dotson demonstrated that those used for glud ‘ransom’ rites follow simple east > west – upstream, or west > east – downstream patterns. The itineraries are based upon the names of a series of ‘minor kingdoms’ (rgyal phran) ranged along the gTsang-po River basin across the southern Tibetan Plateau, the identities of which already appear to have a quasi-mythical status in the Old Tibetan ritual texts. These itineraries do differ significantly from bon shaman journeys in several ways. For instance, they lack return itineraries, which are rather implied, they contain no specific local toponyms of individual sites on the ground, nor are they oriented north – south and thus able to be correlated with ancestral migration patterns, whether idealised or actual. Nevertheless, such journeys begin and end respectively at areas termed ‘the upper head of the river’ (chab gyi ya bgo) and ‘the lower tail of the river’ (chab gyi ma gshug), and “demonstrate that the river and not the path of the sun is the ordering principle of the rites involved.”75 Moreover, the goals or outcomes of such upstream rites can be most accurately described as ‘life-oriented’, and they are often explicitly related to healing, and even in some cases ‘revitalisation’ or ‘revival’ (sos). These are cultural patterns identical to those found in all ritual journeys by bon shamans, and they are cognate with the cult’s cosmology in general.

Performance Verbal ritual journeys undertaken by bon shamans are performed in only two settings. One is while seated or standing inside the house of the main hereditary sponsor or the bon shaman himself – and they sometimes represent the same household – in front of a small altar at the hearth place or in the shrine room, or up in the attic level of the house. The other setting is while standing in the sacred grove before the lha shing tree(s) and the natural flat stone altars located immediately in front of them. The Lha zhu journey is frequently performed as a nocturnal rite, while its special variation, that I term ‘guided enticement journey’ (see below), can be performed during daylight hours. The nightor daytime performance of such rites is of comparative

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significance since other Himalayan shamans only perform certain of their verbal ritual journeys as nocturnal rites, and others during daylight hours. This same division into day and night performances of rites is also commonly recorded in very old Tibetan ritual antecedent narratives describing the performances by bon po and gshen ritual specialists, and various examples are quoted throughout this book. These journeys of the bon shaman are performed together with his principal assistant(s), and while the public are not generally present, when the rite is conducted inside the main hereditary sponsor’s house, members of that household are not excluded (pl. 3). The mythical precedent for the verbal ritual journey is the rabs describing the primordial invitation journey to the sky world by the messenger bat sGam-chen Phawang. The bat as an archetypal being here fits with the nocturnal timing of most Lha zhu as performance. During the ritual journey itself, the bat is not the only model explicitly cited by the practitioner in antecedent narratives, since the bon shaman often cites his main auxiliary being(s) which do not always include winged creatures, but often do include primordial ritual specialists who are regarded as ancestors. Verbal ritual journeys can be either chanted aloud by bon shamans or recited internally in the mind with no audible content. Usually the performer remains seated or standing in one spot, without any demonstrative bodily movements or changes in facial expression. When asked about the experience they have of undertaking such journeys, all bon shamans I interviewed described it in a similar manner. The verb gom (cf. CT bsgom) is always used, meaning ‘to visualise’ or ‘to imagine’ going on the journey as they chant the successive stages of the itinerary. The experience is said to be as ‘real’ in quality as ‘day dream’ or ‘lucid dream’ experiences most people can have and later recall. The bon shaman can be simultaneously aware of his immediate surroundings while undertaking such a journey. He will visibly react if somebody loudly interrupts him with an urgent matter, and he can recall events that took place around him if asked later to do so. On the one hand, nothing like a marked ‘altered state of consciousness’, ‘trance’ or ‘ecstatic’ behaviour is ever mentioned or observed. This correlates precisely with self-descriptions by, and observations of other Himalayan shamans in highland Nepal and Arunachal Pradesh

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

who perform verbal ritual journeys.76 On the other hand, the indigenous understanding of what transpires during one of these journeys depends upon a specific ontology. Explicit reference to the practitioner’s ‘soul’ or mobile vitality principle as the actual travelling component undertaking the journey while his body remains stationary is never articulated in ritual speech or written texts. However, it is implicit as is its divisible character. When closely questioned, bon shamans will often refer to the mobile vitality principle as the only manner such journeys are possible to make, which was nicely summed up by one informant with the question, ‘How can I be here, but also be there?’ My informants often compared the verbal ritual journey to the common local understanding of dreaming. Dreams occur when the mobile vitality principle – or divisible aspects of it – departs the sleeper’s body via the mouth, often in the form of a small flying insect, and travels around at night experiencing the world. These same ‘exterior’ experiences which the travelling mobile vitality principle has also simultaneously form the ‘interior’ content of the sleeper’s dreams. This analogy is most apt, since verbs of motion and location indicators used in verbal ritual journey itineraries invariably indicate flight (see below), and this is often the same language as found in explanations of dreams. While the main technique in any performance of a ritual journey is verbal, certain aspects of the ritual setting and paraphernalia are also integral to any journey rite and so cannot be overlooked. They are considered as essential since they represent access to the itinerary for both shaman and escorted lha, as well as the latter’s ultimate destination. They include purifying smoke, a tree, and a ritual cord. These three elements must always be present in some form, and without them, no verbal ritual journey can be completed to its ideal terminus at the site of worship. Together they represent the route between sky and earth: 1. Every journey must commence with an initial rite of purification using fumigation (bsangs). The purifying smoke cleanses the departing bon shaman, his altar, its contents and immediate surroundings, but most importantly it ‘eliminates’ (sel) anything undesirable or obstructive and

creates safe conduct (bsel ba) along the route for travel and, thus ‘opens’ it. This fumigation can also be elaborated with other purificatory rites, such as ablution with pure water (khrus) and lustration using specially prepared/collected waters (tshan). Fumigation frequently comes from a bonfire – as opposed to mere incense sticks – which is fed with branches and leaves from aromatic plants, and this rite is so important it often has a dedicated assistant specialist or sub-shaman attending to it, who in the cult can commonly be called gtsang mi (‘purifying man’), or zhel de (cf. Old Tibetan and CT zhal ta pa) in the older texts of bon shamans. For the same reason, when staged inside a dwelling the ritual journey rite must take place immediately next to the domestic hearth. 2. Secondly, a ‘deity tree’ (lha shing) represents the vertical axis of the lha’s descent/ascent and the place it will usually come to a halt on earth. Thus, symbolically it is the main connection between the different cosmic levels involved. When the rite is performed in the sacred grove, it must be near to or under the dedicated living lha shing. These trees belong to a small group of species, the use of which depends upon which grows in any specific local ecology where festivals are staged. They most commonly include junipers (Juniperus spp.) and several other related members of the family Cupressaceae, Himalayan oaks (Quercus spp.), less commonly firs (Abies spp.) and pines, and uniquely in the central Mon-yul Corridor the broadleaf evergreen Viburnum cylindricum. At only a few sites, we find replica deity trees erected in clear and open areas beyond the perimeter of a village. These are always of the same basic form: a long, tall freshly felled living stem of a ritually acceptable tree species, with most of its side branches trimmed away, but with the uppermost ‘tuft’ of living branches left intact (pls. 91, 92), and without roots but planted into a hole in the earth and often fastened to a supporting stake. When the rite is performed inside a house, an equivalent of the deity tree must be present as leaf-bearing branches of a ritually acceptable tree species, or as an erect ritual arrow (pl. 3), and even sometimes as bunches of freshly plucked flowers (pl. 130). Branches of these ‘trees’ can be held in the hand of the bon shaman as he chants (pl. 89), and are thought of as ‘landing pads’ which are extensions of the lha shing itself.

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îPlate 89. Bon shamans holding lha shing branches in front of a stone slab altar in the sacred grove while chanting an invitation rite, Yewang, Dirang, 2011.

3. Finally, a ritual cord is always connected in one way or another to any ‘tree’ the lha are considered to finally alight upon, and to altars they are believed to extend their interest to for being hosted. Such cords are usually of white homespun woollen thread, but silk scarves are also used, and at a few sites, leather thongs were recorded. This cord is treated as, and often explicitly called, a ‘road’ (lam) but also a ‘bridge’ (zam). Like the tree, the ritual cord represents the vertical route and connection between lha and human beings, and its mythical analogue is the rMu cord (dmu/ rmu thag) that I discuss within a regional context in chapter 14. Depending upon the site, many variations of use are possible. Either the cord is tied between a living lha shing or ‘deity tree’ and a branch on the altar (pl. 90), or it is tied and wound around a structure made of tree branches that functions as the deity tree and altar, or simply tied to, and left hanging off the deity tree or equivalent wooden devices that are tree substitutes (pl. 91). In some case, the cord can even be directly connected to the bon shaman himself by its free end. Another feature of the cord is that certain additional

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devices can be attached to and hung from it, and in which the lha and their life powers are thought to be present. These devices can include ritual bells or, where they are found in use, the shaman’s horn and for which the lha are always said to be present within the inside bow of the horn, which forms a sort of seat for them (pl. 92). Additionally, carved wooden phalluses having the same function can be hung from the cord, or hung directly from the branches of the deity tree upon individual cords. Usually at the completion of rites, these cords and what hangs from them are considered charged with the life-giving and protective powers of the lha. They can be distributed in various ways to worshippers or used to bless them and so transfer life powers and safety. This basic altar pattern for the vertical ritual journey of the bon shaman, combining a vertical tree/pole made from a living tree, an attached cord or rope, and purificatory smoke or sacrificial fire is widespread among closely cognate shamanic tradition-complexes throughout highland Asia. Most notably from a comparative perspective in relation

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

ê Plate 90. Bon shaman attaching a ‘road’ (lam) cord of white wool between a lha shing tree and a stone slab altar in a sacred grove, Yewang, Dirang, 2011.

to the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its closest regional cognates, this pattern is found among the premodern Qiang in western Sichuan, and also the Naxi of north-west Yunnan who treat the living tree and ‘cord of the gods’ together in their older myths and ritual texts, yet separately in their recent ritual practice.77 The same ritual pattern and its details were strikingly similar in ceremonies presided over by shamans in central-eastern and southern Siberia among speakers of Tungusic languages, but especially the premodern Evenki and some Manchu.78 In addition to the cognate material culture involved here, the significant common concept is that in these Srid-pa’i lha cult, Qiang, Naxi, Evenki and Manchu rites which all involve shamans the revitalising deities always come down from the sky to the altar. In other examples of rites based upon the same cosmology in the extended eastern Himalayas, the revitalising deities never descend, rather the shaman goes up to them, and consequently they lack use of the same material culture.

Language of Lha zhu While horizontal glud-related journey itineraries have a conventional language, one that refers to or infers foot travel across the topography, the upstream > vertical ascent into sky + descent from sky > downstream itinerary pattern employs more sophisticated language overall. I will now briefly introduce features of these latter texts. The chanted itineraries themselves are mainly named after their intention, Lha zhu or Lha Requesting/Inviting, and sometimes Lha zhu rabs, even though they do not usually contain an ‘antecedent narrative’ (rabs) as such. The word rabs is nevertheless appropriate since it indicates a series or succession through time and space, such as the stations of an itinerary. Unlike most other ritual texts employed by bon shamans in the region, these itineraries are seldom written down in manuscripts. Why this is so remains unclear; the chants are not ‘secret’ since others are often present when they are performed and can hear them.

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To reveal the language of such texts, I will gloss excerpts from each phase in the outbound journey of an oral Lha zhu chanted by the bon po of the small settlement of Zangling. This site lies on the west bank of the Jamkhar Chu river in Kheng Chikor. This outbound Lha zhu has ninety-two verse lines composed in a hybrid of Classical Tibetan and the East Bodish language Khengkha. It records the bon po’s itinerary through four main phases (nos. 1-4 below). For each phase, for the sake of economy I have sampled representative lines from within the sequence (as numbered) and eliminated redundancies. This Lha zhu – as is most common – is performed as a nocturnal rite that takes place in the bon po’s house while he is seated before a small altar table decorated with ritual materials. The latter items represent hospitality and resting places for the lha, and include first harvest grains, plant stems and leaves, fruits, flowers and a butter

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ï Plate 91. A lha’i gtor pole fashioned from a living tree trunk for the descent of ’O-de Gung-rgyal, with remains of a ritual cord (roop) of sheep’s wool, Bemji, upper Mangde Chu valley, central Bhutan, 2014. é Plate 92. A ritual connecting cord with attached ritual horn and bamboo basket on a lha shing tree, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

lamp. The bon po must first perform ablutions, wear a clean white robe and shoulder scarf, and don a white turban with a red central stripe (pl. 38). This headgear is called shelha thekar, formally written gShen-lha Thod-dkar, and is identified with the bon po’s auxiliary being of the same name. It also functions as a seat or hold for the lha when the latter is escorted down to earth. The Lha zhu chant begins immediately after a purifying fumigation narrative (Bsang rabs) and rite has been performed:

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

1. From seated in front of the altar, upwards through the roof: 1 2 3 8 9 10 11

gser gyi pa ṭa steng nas bzhengs / arise from atop the [altar’s] carved, golden facade baa ra mtsham steng nas bzhengs / arise from atop the maize grains seng la ngang la steng nas bzhengs / arise from atop the banana stem and leaves […] khang shing dang gsum steng nas bzhengs / arise from atop the three ceiling beams yu wa khag gsum steng nas bzhengs / arise from atop the three grain storage baskets [in the attic] mong ka gru bzhi’i steng nas bzhengs / arise from atop the square woven bamboo roof mat phu ru ru / […]

2. Northwards across the terrestrial landscape, climbing to a highland lift-off point: 13 14 15 23 24 25 26

ngal sa phe reng rten na ning phur / fly from the Pherengten resting place ba baa rang so ma la ning phur / fly from the Babaarang Soma pass ngal sa’i ka ra sa btsan la ning phur / fly from the Karasatsen pass resting place […] wang shing gar gir steng nas phur / fly across the tops of the swaying79 fir trees shog bu dam ldem steng nas phur / fly across the tops of the wavering Daphne bushes smeg pi ban bun steng nas phur / fly across the tops of the rustling bamboo canes80 phu ru ru / […]

3. Vertically upward through the sky: 30 31 32 37

skar ma ’ang ’eng steng nas phur / fly as far as the top of the tiny stars gnam rim pa gcig gi steng nas phur / fly as far as the top of the first level of the sky world gnam rim pa gnyis kyi steng nas phur / fly as far as the top of the second level of the sky world […] phu ru ru / […]

4. Into the palace on the thirteenth level of the sky world to address the lha: 54 59 64 65 66 70 71

rta ras ’og ma’i steng nas phur / fly from the top of the lower horse stalls […] rdo bcal bar ma’i steng nas phur / fly from the top of the middle flagstones […] bsha’ skor gon ma’i steng nas phur / fly from the top of the upper storey [of the palace] sgo mo shel sgo dung sgo nang du ’dzul / enter inside the doors of crystal and of conch dngul gyi yol la’i nang du ’dzul / pass through the drapes of silver […] g.yu khri sngon po’i steng du bzhugs / sit atop the blue turquoise throne lha tshangs pa gdong bzhi zhu yin / lha Tshangs-pa gDong-bzhi, this is a request [...]81

Thus, the journey in all its phases is fundamentally an aerial activity, a flight, and this is something reflected in the reports of certain bon shamans who describe their perspective while on the journey as that of a soaring bird looking out over the surroundings. Aside from the Classical Tibetan motion verbs indicating ‘take off’ or literally ‘arising’ (bzhengs) and ‘flying’ (phur), the construction steng nas, literally ‘from atop’ or ‘from above’, ‘as far as the top’, and its various East Bodish and Tshangla language equivalents and adaptations,82 is liberally employed in Lha zhu texts to convey this ‘bird’s eye’ perspective in progress. The usage itself appears directly derived from, or related to, very old pre- and early post-eleventh century Tibetan cosmographic images of the multi-levelled sky world in ritual antecedent narratives. These texts also employ steng du, steng na and steng nas to locate beings and action at the top of the nine or thirteen sky levels.83 The connected series of named locations and features in a Lha zhu chant not only define a linear itinerary and demonstrate the shaman’s progress along it, they also imply stages on a journey which are sometimes explicitly noted as rest stops or pauses (see below). The explicit f lying language of such Lha zhu texts differs markedly from the two other published examples of vertical, upward verbal ritual journey itineraries to the ‘upper

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world’ performed within the extended eastern Himalayas. Performance of both the Sara ṅ dew rite among the Mewahang Rai of east Nepal, and the meŭsòq-wà rite among the Drung of north-west Yunnan, share many details in common with the Lha zhu from Zangling and neighbouring regions cited above. Moreover, both Rai and Drung journeys ascend to meet and interact with beings who are in all ways equivalent to the main Srid-pa’i lha, that is, superior, life-giving male sky progenitors – Sara ṅdew (Nepali) whose Mewahang name Rùrùhaŋ means ‘King of Life-Souls’, and Gvmeu in Drung which designates ‘the Breeder of Human Souls’. As for the verbs of motion in the actual journeying phases of these chants, the two Sara ṅdew journeys include ‘climb’, ‘pass [through]’, ‘walk’, ‘enter’, ‘arrive’, ‘come’, ‘proceed’ and ‘return’, all of which Gaenszle notes are in fact neutral with regard to verticality. In the meŭsòq-wà chant, we find ‘go/going’, ‘get/succeed [to the top]’ and ‘to be rapidly alongside’.84 All this is a distinctly pedestrian language compared to that of explicit flight found in Lha zhu chants. In this Lha zhu text from Zangling, as in many such verbal ritual journey itineraries for Srid-pa’i lha worship, we find regular reference to ‘resting places’ at certain named sites along the upstream/downstream terrestrial phases. Sometimes more than half of the terrestrial toponyms along a Lha zhu itinerary are so designated. In Khengkha inf luenced texts, such as we have cited above, they are called ngalsa or nasa (written ngal sa, sna sa) and in Chocha-ngacha influenced texts ngetsosa, 85 while in Dakpa influenced oral texts used in Dirang district they are termed narang or sa narang. The term sa narang, meaning ‘resting place on a journey’, is derived from Dakpa sa ‘earth/land’ or ‘place’ (sacha) and ngai ‘rest’ with rang-nang ‘road’ or ‘way’. Both narang or sa narang are also the technical terms for simple stone slab altars located in any sacred grove on the outskirts of a settlement which are used by bon shamans for their rites. In Dirang, they are also known as Chis narang, with Chis being the specific title for ancestral deities located up the vertical axis, and to whom chisöwen or chisöshe propitiation is devoted. Offerings are placed on these altars during Srid-pa’i lha worship, and are where the bon shaman will stand to perform a Lha zhu – and thus they are also where the lha ‘rest’ and are hosted at the nadir of their descent.

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The same type of ‘resting places’ just described also occur in both verbal ritual journey itineraries and journeys represented in mythical narratives chanted by shamans throughout the extended eastern Himalayas, from highland Nepal across to the Mishmi Hills according to present records. Indigenous interpretations of these ‘resting places’ have seldom been recorded, but those we know of suggest these are not sites where the ‘travellers’ do nothing, rather they are places for certain activities. In an Apatani Neli Toiin verbal ritual journey down to the land of the dead, the resting place on the descending itinerary is where oratory is performed such that ‘manly skills are praised’, ‘achievements celebrated’, and feasting occurs.86 In an Idu Mishmi Aruma Goyo ritual journey itinerary to escort the soul of a deceased person to the land of the dead, scores of ‘camp sites’ are listed along an initial eastward horizontal itinerary. This route leads back in space along an ancestral migration route notionally into north-west Yunnan, and back in time to a primordial female progenitor-ancestor who is informed that one of her creations has died. At these camps on the way, the soul can partake of food and drink and be bathed.87 Scholars have offered various interpretations to explain these resting places. They are described as sites connected with pauses during ancestral migration journeys, past sites of shifting cultivation, and also that they are realistically indicative of the discontinuous flying-landing-flying behaviour repeated over longer distances by the type of gallinaceous birds (pheasant, quail, peacock, etc.) that represent and are symbolically assimilated to the shaman who flies like a ‘bird’.88 While all such explanations have merit in specific contexts, in relation to Srid-pa’i lha worship the idea that such ‘resting places’ are related to halts along ancestral migration routes seems most fitting in view of the data on this topic discussed in chapters 16 and 17. I think this explanation can be augmented, especially considering the terminological overlaps between ‘resting place’ and the stone slab altar in a sacred grove. Data from both the Gurung/ Tamu and Thulung Rai who participate in the regional shamanic tradition-complex in highland Nepal supports the same connection.89 This suggests such ‘resting places’ were not only temporary halting sites along migration routes, but ones at which the simple stone slab altar was set up in

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

a grove of trees to worship the ancestral deities, just as continued to occur when Srid-pa’i lha worship communities established permanent settlements. Antecedent narratives from the research area that describe ancestral migrations indeed depict the clan ancestors as regularly halting at a series of places along the route and staging rites for their ancestral deities (see ch. 16). A point to emphasise about verbal ritual journeys used by bon shamans is that each itinerary and its language are to a certain extent unique. Like the rabs narratives used by these shamans, itinerary content and style always vary, albeit around a set of common reference points. Some variability, such as occurs in toponym lists and their sequence, is necessarily so due to the different geographical settings of each site of worship – although Srid-pa’i lha Lha zhu itineraries cannot simply be varied at the individual will of a bon shaman, as is the case elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas.90 The reasons behind other variations in itineraries are often less obvious. For example, as we saw in the Zangling Lha zhu, one usually finds reference to a ‘door’ and/or ‘curtain’ leading into and out of the lha’s sky palace or its throne room, and through which the shaman must pass when encountering and escorting the deity in either direction. During the Chisöwen festival I documented at Yewang in the Dirang district of the Mon-yul Corridor, which is a combined celebration by three local descent groups91 who previously celebrated separately, their three ritual specialists stood shoulder to shoulder at the stone slab altar in the sacred grove and simultaneously chanted a unique variation on this ‘door’ motif. Once the three had completed their rites at the altar, they escorted their three, respective clan ancestral deities – whom they respectfully address using the Dakpa kin term achi or ‘elder brother’ – on a return journey to their ‘golden strongholds’ (serkhar CT gser mkhar) in the sky above, and for which they chanted a highly attenuated ‘door sequence’. Each deity is escorted into his sleeping chamber inside a golden door, where the departing bon shamans visualises their own retreat from the deity as a series of backward steps while continuing to face him – as traditional etiquette demands of hosts bidding departing guests farewell – and walks backwards through the golden door chanting:

ser ko ko rim khag / close the golden door level ngui ko ko rim khag / close the silver door level dung ko ko rim khag / close the conch door level yü ko ko rim khag / close the turquoise door level zang ko ko rim khag / close the copper door level ra ko ko rim khag / close the brass door level

do ko ko rim khag / close the stone door level chu ko ko rim khag / close the water door level cha ko ko rim khag / close the iron door level shing ko ko rim khag / close the wooden door level92 Later, during a follow-up interview, the most elderly, knowledgeable bon po at Yewang reported that his teacher, the previous bon po, had also described how he even encountered pairs of bodyguards stationed at each of the ten doors during his journeys, although his student admitted never having experienced them. The redundancy inherent in this attenuated door sequence is an example of many such ‘door’, ‘gate’, ‘threshold’ and even maze motifs in verbal ritual journeys. They represent intentional barriers along routes connecting different domains of the cosmos, to prevent inappropriate and thus potentially dangerous transit and connection between them.93 The obvious explanation for this attenuated door sequence at Yewang is the creative agency of certain shamans in a hereditary line. But one must also know just what this ‘creativity’ might represent. On the one hand, at Yewang, unlike at other sites, explicit chanting of each ‘level of the sky’ (gnam rim pa) is not done – or no longer occurs – in the ascending and descending itinerary, and the door sequence appears to be something of a substitute for – or relic of – these levels. On the other hand, the motif of ‘doors’ or ‘portals’ in the sky which ‘open’ (not close) when the lha descend certainly exists in various Srid-pa’i lha myths circulating within the region. I suspect that, due to the historical combination of three clans jointly celebrating in a single community festival at Yewang, and during which their three ritual specialists simultaneously chant the verbal ritual journey standing shoulder to shoulder at the altar (pl. 238), various motifs have become merged over time, resulting in the above unique chant. Evidence of this merger occurs in other traces within the chant as it describes the descent

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ceremonial group

Tsangmupa

Changbukpa

Grangthungpa/Raktipa

ritual specialist

gampo

bonpo

tsangmi

deity

Nubcha

Changphu

Thukshang

descending terrestrial phase itinerary of sa narang sites

Shadarsha (‘Flourishing of Wild Animals’)

Chang Karey

Namsung Zor

Byengra Lok (‘Axe Cliff ’)

Peylong Thung94

Shabjong

Cherong Tangpu (‘Big Stream’)

Singnang Khar (‘Stronghold of Fingernails’)

Manipadmo

Cherong Zimbu (‘Small Stream’)

Leyshing Chur (‘Banana Tree Garden’)

Jomo Narang (A-ma Jo-mo ritual site)

Ridi Rong (‘Windy Steep Slope’)

Mamang Thung

Kaykespa Thung

Rok Borong (‘Sheltering Forest’)

Lungphara (‘Flat Stone’)

Mamang Thung (large rock beside the chis narang altar where lha tether their horses)

Manthung Gunthung

to the altar via the ‘resting places’ (sa narang) included in the local terrestrial phase of the itinerary. There were in fact three different versions of this final terrestrial phase of the itinerary at the Yewang Chisöwen festival I recorded in 2011. Each of the clan-based ceremonial groups participating in the Chisöwen, namely the Tsangmupa, Changbukpa and Grangthungpa (or Raktipa), has their own bon shaman, and all three chant their own itineraries simultaneously at this point during the rites (fig. 9). The Yewang case is a reminder that to understand any verbal ritual journey the cosmology, myths and rites informing them represent only some of their key dimensions, with knowledge of local social organisation and identities, as well as topography, essential to gain a more complete picture.

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Mamang Thung

é Figure 9. Alternative terrestrial itineraries for lha descent used by ceremonial groups at Yewang.

Guided Enticement Journeys Thus far, I have focussed solely upon the most recognisably ‘shamanic’ – and thus regionally comparable – form of the verbal ritual journey, in which the bon shaman is understood to ‘travel’ somewhere far distant. While he is indeed the ‘traveller-agent’ who initiates the whole Lha zhu journey, he invariably invites/escorts the lha as his ‘fellow traveller’ back down to his altar, and there are always these two ‘travellers’, at a minimum, involved in any journey cycle. There is a significant variation on this Lha zhu journey pattern, albeit one intimately related to it, which even more

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

closely follows precedents set by the older Tibetan invitation principle. This variation might best be described as a ‘guided enticement journey’. During the guided enticement journey, the bon shaman remains – in the ontological sense that his ‘soul’ does not depart – at his altar and chants a guided descending itinerary to the lha which maps out the latter’s downward progress from the top of the sky to the altar. This ‘guiding’ of the lha is preceded by a series of reassurances and enticing encouragements to ensure that the latter undertakes the journey unaccompanied and without hesitation. Yet, the guided enticement journey is more than a liturgical ‘invocation’, which is a basic rite common to all forms of ritual and religious activity across the region. This is because the bon shaman dispatches his auxiliaries up to the sky world to initiate the process. The auxiliaries thus act as the ‘travelleragent’ in his stead. The involvement of auxiliaries during part of the guided enticement journey is not specific to it. Observations at various Srid-pa’i lha festivals demonstrated some ‘standard’ Lha zhu, in which a bon shaman was the ‘traveller-agent’, also involved participation of his auxiliaries (see ch. 10). This is apparently more common than it is possible to confirm, due to the topic of auxiliaries being sensitive and difficult to access, while chants concerning them often take the form of mental recitations rather than vocalised ones. Auxiliaries are the bon shaman’s intimates, to the point of some ontological overlap between man and spirit being. They are often regarded as human ancestors, or beings from whom one inherits the capacity to form close relations with one’s human ancestors, and who are invoked to dwell upon and closely surround the body of the shaman. In this context, it may be somewhat of a moot point exactly ‘who’ – the shaman or his auxiliaries – acts as the ‘traveller-agent’ during a guided enticement journey. The guided enticement journey has a very different textual quality when compared with other Lha zhu. Its itinerary lacks the upstream – downstream phase based upon terrestrial toponyms. It is limited rather to departure from the top of the sky world and a series of abstract ecological transition

references marking stages leading from the atmosphere down to the altar. Guided enticement journey texts do cite the auxiliaries, often in the form of bird characters, and the narratives are remarkable for their overall language of persuasion. While some such texts are also termed Lha zhu, we find the title wording Lha phab, Lha khug and sometimes Lha khug lugs, which all signal the dynamic of ‘guided enticement’ inherent in this journey type. Phab literally means ‘to cause [something] to come down’, whereas khug belongs to the verb cluster bkug/khug[s]/dgug/’gug[s] mentioned above that is central to rites performed by shamans and other specialists who manipulate both the ‘soul’ and life-powers. Achieving precise translations of these verbs is often highly context-dependent, and their spellings in local manuscripts vary widely in any case. Among other things, khug can literally mean ‘to be able to bend’, ‘to be under control’, as well as ‘to become tame or soft’, and since the texts in question are a form of orally delivered persuasion, ‘entice’ or even ‘seduce’ would be appropriate glosses. Due to field research circumstances, I never succeeded in recording a complete oral version of the guided enticement journey during such a rite. Moreover, the few texts preserved in local manuscripts take more the form of ‘guidelines’ to be augmented by an oral tradition, or they are incomplete. One Srid-pa’i lha ritual text that does record a complete and detailed guided enticement journey is the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel lha mchod rgyas pa, or Extensive Elimination and Offering [Rites] for the lHa of the Four Groups of Little Humans, introduced in chapter 1. The complete rite of the guided enticement journey together with its related antecedent narrative95 comprise about half of the entire text for the two rites of lha sel and lha mchod set out in subsequent sections of the manuscript. Here I translate the short myth and excerpts from the journey chants to illustrate and be able to compare its language and motifs with other Lha zhu cited both above and in the festival documentations of part IV. In terms of both form and content, the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel presents a Srid-pa’i lha rite typical of the northern zone of distribution of the cult, albeit one which comes down to us bereft of any information on its living context of performance. Fortunately, the narrative includes short ‘instructional’ annotations between the main chants, and

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these generically describe the specialists who should perform the rite, as well as some of their necessary actions. When these instructional notes and the chants themselves are correlated with field observations made during Srid-pa’i lha festivals, the entire content of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel is fully recognisable in the living tradition. Thus, we can be certain of how the text was meant to be used in context, and even which area it may have originated within. As examples of this context, Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged at sites along the Kuri Chu river feature the guided enticement journey chanted by a bon shaman in his full ritual attire at an altar. They occur either inside the dwelling of the main hereditary sponsor household, or sometimes at an altar within the enclosed courtyard outside – if the house is ‘grand’ enough to have one. A purifying fumigation rite (bsangs) always begins the process, often accompanied by a lustration rite (tshan). The bon shaman then chants the initial stages, although they may not be vocalised since they concern his auxiliaries. While he chants, another ritual specialist, typically a young man who is ritually purified in terms of observing dietary taboos, wearing clean (ideally white) garments and having performed prior ablutions, carries a white or sometimes coloured flag atop a pole, and ascends the nearest high point in the local terrain, either a ridge, a saddle or a hillock. He waits for a sign to appear that the lha has arrived from out of the sky. Often, this may be the sight of white birds flying and perched in trees, or the wavering of trees, and so forth. At the sign, he will wave the flag and proceed back down from the heights, sometimes prancing, jumping or running and chanting certain words, and with a train of children following on some occasions. In this way, he escorts the lha to a living deity tree or a ritual substitute for one such as an arrow or wooden pole, which forms its primary ‘support’ during the next stages of the rite. This completes the journey phase. The guided enticement journey in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel consists of a brief cosmogonic prelude, then a short antecedent narrative, followed by four chant sections, each of which is prefaced by a few instructional verses. Below, the antecedent narrative part is translated together with samples of the four chants, with their preceding instructional verses

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set in italics. The myth depicts how five primordial messenger birds – a bat, crane, cuckoo, parrot and skylark – who are offspring of the alpha-progenitor ’O-de Gung-rgyal and his consort, each hatch from eggs of semi-precious substances. Upon instructions from two shadowy primordial figures, Lha-btsun Lag-skos and gTsug-gi sKos-rgyal, the birds undertake a journey to the top of the thirteenth level of the sky with the ritual requisites to invite the lha, thus setting the precedent for the chants and ritual actions to follow:96 [3a...]

As for the eleven, the twelve lands, The thirteenth with them was U-ste Ngam-pa. The father’s name was ’Od-de Gung-rgyal. The mother’s name was sMan-dag bTsun-mo. These two begat sons. They came into existence as five eggs: A brown egg of agate, and A white egg of conch, and A blue egg of turquoise, and A red egg of copper, and A black egg of iron, the five of them appeared. [A creature] neither bird nor rat, but possessing wings, Broke out from inside of the agate egg. It possessed a beak and talons of meteoric iron. Its name was sGam Pha-wang Yer-zur. A crane emerged from within the egg of conch. [3b] A cuckoo emerged from within the egg of turquoise. A parrot emerged from within the egg of copper. A skylark emerged from within the egg of iron. Lha-btsun Lag-skos told them, “You five birds who are marvellous, Act as messengers of human beings to the lha. Invite the lha to the [land of] humans!” He spoke those words, and The parrot who was patriarch97 [among the birds] requested, “If we must go to make an invitation to the lha, Then we request a mount for each of us. For the purpose [of inviting], we request a token to reciprocate with.” gTsug-gi sKos-rgyal replied,

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

“Upon the flank of the Ri-gtsug Drag-sde-pa [mountain], There is a juniper tree, and a yak’s tail about one armspan long, And at the base of that, there are white sheep with horns of conch. Ride upon those! As a token, come carrying a shank of deer’s meat and A black and white yak’s tail.” [4a] The bat and the skylark went into the sky above the U Ri-gtsug [mountain]. When they looked around, They recognised the place just as described [by gTsug-gi sKos-rgyal]. They all went riding off upon five [sheep] with horns of conch. They kept close together like [a herd of] deer and went off. They soared like the vulture and went off. They arrived at the top of the thirteenth level of the sky world. They carried arrows with five types of silk in their right hands. They carried mirrors in their left hands.98 They purified with the smoke of fragrant incense.99

Following the myth introducing the auxiliaries who are bird messengers, the ritual specialists are first described in instructional verses. The bon shaman announces his singing bird auxiliaries as heralds reporting what awaits the lha down in the world of human beings. These five birds address five clan lha, only the first two instances of which are given here as an example, namely, the address to the lha Srid-pa Gung-sangs and to Ye-mgon rGyal-po: [4a...]

Two pure youths Adorned with beautiful attire, Hands and faces purified by washing, Wave with both a white and a red ritual arrow. The sku-gshen utters this rite as a melodious chant:

The blue [turquoise egg-hatched] cuckoo’s100 call sounds continually. In the ears of the lha, everything desirable is heard. Arise, Srid-pa Gung-sangs! [4b] The regrettable defilement of fratricide is admitted. Since the fratricide will be purified by the smoke of white incense, The lha are invited, come to this place! For support, a fine arrow with vulture fletching and A green [branch] of turquoise juniper have been erected as supports. The lha will be protectors for human beings. Come to the surface of this altar of conch! On that, the white turbaned lha bon Will continually serve the lha with lha-purification [and] nine offerings. The lha are invited, requested to depart! It is clean! It is clean!101 Lha come! Furthermore, the call of the bat who [hatched from an egg of] agate sounds continually. [5a] In the ears of the lha, everything desirable is heard. Arise, Ye-mgon rGyal-po! There will be purification with the smoke of Artemisia and Rhododendron. The lha are invited, come to this place! For support, a pointed ritual arrow has been erected. The tshe of the lha [will be] the life force of man. Come to the surface of this altar of copper! It is adorned by a red thread-cross the height of an arrow. Receive the three hundred and sixty types of lustrations. The lha are invited, requested to depart! It is clean! It is clean! Lha come!102 After all five such reassuring and promising reports to the lha by the bird emissaries, the bon shaman then personally (bdag) addresses those lha headed by the pho lha who are of communal significance for descent and social relations. He sends them a clear invitation: [6b...]

The bon gshen wear great cloaks of brocade upon their bodies.

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Majestic turbans of white silk are bound to their heads. In their throats, they consume A-ti 103 nectar. When fumigating with white incense, they utter this: When I, the sku gshen, [make] the invitation, From the heights of a hillock The smoke of white incense will be sent out. Upon the white food offering array, Drops of molasses will be applied, then The white feathers of the lha arrow Will be decorated with silks of nine colours. The pho lha is invited to depart. The mo lha is invited to depart. The bu rdzi is invited to depart. From the heights of a hillock, A white flag will be waved for a signal. I invite the pho lha! I invite the mo lha! I invite the zhang lha!104 This invitation continues ever more elaborate and is followed by a somewhat awkwardly inserted section of chant concerning the nature and ordering of the ‘nine divisions in a rite’ (bon la le’u dgu). This is the basic schema of bon shaman rituals employing auxiliaries to address lha that I briefly introduced in the previous section and describe in more detail in chapter 14. Next, the bon shaman develops the tone of his invitation with a more intimate and sensual approach: Two pure youths, male and female, Are adorned with beautiful attire, then Wave with both a white and a red ritual arrow. [9a] The bon gshen, having endowed themselves with magnificent garments, utter this: [8b...]

Kye! The white signal flag is being held aloft. The smoke of white incense is purifying. Come to the bridge of joy and happiness! I invite the lha! I invite the pho lha! I invite the mo lha!

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I invite the zhang lha! I request you depart from space! I request you depart from the sky! I request you depart from the cardinal points and interstices! I request you depart from the thirteenth level of the sky world! Come to this glorious house! Come here with rapture!105 Come here with delight! Come here with joy! See with your eyes The white signal flag and come! Smell with your nose The smoke of white incense and come! Make your mind support Within the white food offering array and come! Apply your tongue [9b] To the pure, unprocessed, choice offerings and come! Come by marching with your feet Along the bridge of joy and happiness! Listen with your ears To the many [calls of] lHa cha cha’o,106 and come! Hold in your hands The strong and smooth wooden [phallic] symbols and come! Make as your visible gift The swastika symbol and come! Make as your foundation support The seven fresh grains.107 Make as your support for coming and going The conch plaque 108 and come! For the sake of protecting The sponsors and patrons come!109 Next, ritual cakes decorated with flowers – fresh ones are used during festivals – are offered as seats for the lha to alight upon. Finally, the bon shaman recites the guided itinerary for all lha to find their way to the intended destination: [9b...]

At the offering of flowers [and ritual cakes of] flour and butter, utter this:

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

[10b...]

Today, for the invitation to this place, From the surface of the thirteenth level of the sky world, Come to the surface of the first level! From the first [level], come lha over the glaciers! From there, come lha over the white snows! From there, come lha over the bluish alpine slates! [11a] From there, come lha over the red rock cliff! From there, come lha over the forest! From there, come lha over the defile! From there, come lha over the river! From there, come lha to this glorious house! To invite the host of lha, A white flag is waved as a signal. Within a shallow furrow, [The way] is purified with smoke of white incense.110

A second, common aspect of many bon shaman ritual journey chants is also shared with the ‘path of seven snying ma’ itinerary in PT 1134. This is a specific descriptive elaboration of eco-referents in sequences. The text first presents a threefold sequence, with a second and later – apparently a continuation of the first – fivefold one, totalling eight. In these sections, each referent is qualified with a double-syllable, attributive reduplication derived from a verb characterising actions or states of the aspect of the natural world or object it qualifies. The initial threefold sequence on lines 36-37 is as follows: 36 37 38

sne’u kyad kyud gyang snying ma bdun gyi lam / Winding ledge – the path of seven snying ma. drang bu sag sig gyang snying ma bdun gyi lam / Swaying saplings - the path of seven snying ma. chab bu chal chol gyang snying ma bdun gyi lam / Rough rivulets - the path of seven snying ma.112

Parallels with Post-Mortem Journeys This final part of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel chant concerning descent of the lha contains a version of the eco-referent sequences introduced in chapter 2 and summarised in appendix B. This is one aspect that such itineraries appear to have inherited from journeys described for the post-mortem state in Old Tibetan death rites. The Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel chant’s hierarchical, sevenfold sequence of gnam (sky), gangs (glacial snows), g.ya (alpine slates), brag (rock cliffs), nags (forest), g.yang (defile) and chab (river) eco-referents closely resembles that found in a post-mortem ritual journey itinerary defined as ‘path of seven snying ma’ (snying ma bdun gyi lam) in the Old Tibetan document PT 1134. There is much that remains obscure about this journey, although Rolf Stein’s preliminary analysis identified an itinerary sequence crossing a series of passes. He described part of the process as, “Before traversing a new pass, one evokes a struggle and an agitation of two opposing elements”, with the order of the sevenfold, variable eco-referents involved in these passages being gnam (sky), sa (earth), gangs (glacial snows), g.ya’ (alpine slates), brag (rock cliffs), chab brag (river and rocks; or river canyons?), and bdag dang sribs (light/south and dark/north hillsides).111

The consistent pattern here is eco-referent noun + doublesyllable adjective + journey/movement description. As already apparent from the earlier example of the Lha zhu rabs chanted by the Zangling bon po, this pattern is the same in the bon shaman chants, albeit that the eco-referent nouns are not in the diminutive forms used in the Old Tibetan text. In bon shaman chants, this pattern always occurs at the point during a verbal ritual journey where a relatively horizontal terrestrial itinerary reaches a highland area, such as a pass or peak, and turns upwards to ascend vertically into the levels of the sky or, in reverse, when a descending itinerary is moving down through the atmosphere towards a terrestrial touch-down point. In the following example, I have not translated the double-syllable adjectives to highlight their positioning and will discuss brief examples of their etymology below. When the bon po of Trisa in Kheng Chikor dispatches the lha back up to the top of the sky world at the end of worship, having completed the northward, upstream horizontal journey, his chant then describes ascending from the lift-off point of the high Mon-la Kha-chung 113 pass (ca. 5300 metres) located directly between Bhutan and lHo-brag:

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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

sna sa mon la kha chung steng nas phur / Fly from atop Mon-la Kha-chung resting place. shug shing zho go dam ldem steng nas phur / Fly from atop the dam ldem juniper and zhogo trees. pa ma shang nga shong ngo steng nas phur / Fly from atop the shang nga shong ngo moss. smug pa sa pa si pi steng nas phur / Fly from atop the sa pa si pi mists. char pa za ma zi mi steng nas phur / Fly from atop the za ma zi mi rain. neb ri lab ri steng nas phur / Fly from atop the sun and moon (neb ri lab ri). skar ma ’a nga ’e nge steng nas phur / Fly from atop the ’a nga ’e nge stars. gnam rim pa gcig gi steng nas phur114 / Fly from atop the first level of the sky world.

From this point, the chant continues the journey to the top of the thirteenth level of the sky. This Trisa chant incorporates both terrestrial eco-referents and some of the then levels of the atmosphere. The Khengkha speaking bon shaman of Trisa, whose chant this is, interpreted the native transcriptions dam ldem as meaning ‘wavering/swaying’ for trees, shang nga shong ngo as ‘hanging down’ for the long strands of moss trailing from alpine tree branches, sa pa si pi as ‘scattered/diffuse’ for mists, za ma zi mi as ‘drizzling’ for rain and ’a nga ’e nge as ‘tiny’ (i.e., distant) for stars. Most of these double-syllable constructs can easily be compared with Classical Tibetan usage. For example, ldam me ldem me refers to ‘swaying’ (as in tree branches), the native shang ~ shong for the hanging alpine moss is parallel with the verb dpyangs/spyangs ‘to hang’ and a reported imperative form dpyongs,115 while zam mi zim mi (also zam zim) describes a ‘light’ rain. Other double-syllable constructs, such as spoken neb ri lab ri, referring to ‘sun’ (neb) and ‘moon’ (lab), appear to have deeper roots in the East Bodish language and dialect environments within which bon shaman chants have long been orally transmitted and circulated. For instance, ne is ‘sun’ in Kurtöp and ni in Khengkha, while ‘moon’ ’lé in Dzala and lé (or leh)116 in Dakpa, and so forth. Thus, here we have several very clear parallels between an Old Tibetan ritual text describing a post-mortem journey

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and the chanted ritual journeys of bon shamans. The question of how, and to what extent, death rites and other procedures concerning the dead and their post-mortem existence we know of only from very old Tibetan language manuscripts may have informed the chanted ritual journeys of bon shamans arises. In chapters 14 and 15, I will return to consider several more cases in which it appears that death rites preserved in Old Tibetan documents are related to mundane rites in ca. eleventh century documents from lHobrag and rites in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, all of which involve ritual transits up the vertical cosmic axis.

7.4 Divination A fixed part of every Srid-pa’i lha festival involves one or more divination sessions performed exclusively by the bon shaman. The lha themselves are credited as the direct agency behind omens produced by any techniques he employs. Thus, divination related to the lha is only considered possible during their temporary, calendric presence at the site of worship for a festival. Being an exceptional event, divination sessions during festivals are thus very well patronised by the worship community and viewed as a highlight. People seek information about their own, their family’s and their animals’ future well-being up until the period of the next festival. The written divination manuals often used by other types of diviners, astrologers, lamas and monks in the region do not exist in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Divination skills are passed orally from one generation of bon shamans to the next and learned in practice. In part, this is because the systems used are straightforward. When performed for the whole community the omens read by the shaman only include a set list of topics concerning the community’s future. When performed for individual worshippers, the omen is always either positive or negative in relation to any question the person has. Along the extended eastern Himalayas and on the adjacent Tibetan Plateau, literally dozens of different divination techniques have been recorded. Only relatively few techniques can be found employed by bon shamans, and most of them appear specific to either shamans or ‘bon’-identified

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

ê Plate 93. Divination using piles of first harvest grains, Rahung, West Kameng, 2011.

autonomous ritual specialists elsewhere and in myths. They include tossing certain types of objects into the air and interpreting the position they land on the ground in, manipulating harvest grains in various ways, ‘reading’ the body parts of sacrificial animals, and examining the movement of floating butter lumps in bowls of alcohol. The most common technique used to generate a so-called phya or mo divination is when a bon shaman tosses certain objects made of wood and/or plant parts with two dissimilar sides into the air, and interprets the position they fall in. However, to my knowledge, this technique is neither widespread nor popular in other regional cults. Like the shaman’s drum, this specific divination technique is a regular index of the presence of shamans between the eastern Himalayas and Siberia.117 The second most common method in Srid-pa’i lha festivals is use of harvest grains from members of the worship community to produce omens about its prospects in the future (pl. 93). Charles Ramble reported

a very similar technique, as practiced by the hereditary A ya specialists of Porong in southern Tibet. 118 In some rabs narratives from the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the archetypal ritual specialist, bon gShen-rab Mi-bo, performs the divination (mo) by taking three types of grain in his hands to diagnose the cause of a patient’s illness. 119 A somewhat stereotypical account of divining omens (mo pra rtag pa) in the fourteenth century Gzi brjid depicts a specialist identified as the sgrub gshen dbal bon who employs green barley sprinkled upon a white felt mat to read an omen.120 More detailed examples of different techniques are given in the festival documentations of part IV. Here I will mention a special instance of gaining omens by dreaming in the presence of talismanic ‘egg’-like stones, since it demonstrates the interconnection between the ancestral deities, the life powers they represent and prognostication related to them, all of which are defined as Phy[w]a and phy[w]a. The name

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é Plate 94. Pcha shrine for gangola sealed with a nine stone door, and a stone slab altar at the base of a pcha shing tree, Shawa, Kurtö, 2012.

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for Srid-pa’i lha divination at many sites in eastern Bhutan is spoken cha, and written phya in the local texts, while the more conventional term mo is common in the Mon-yul Corridor. The Tibetan word phy[w]a, which is sometimes glossed as ‘prognosis’, has conceptual and linguistic overlaps with both the lha identity Phy[w]a and the productive life power phya discussed in previous sections. At least in the context of divination undertaken within the cult of Sridpa’i lha, and given the connections between life-giving sky lha, a life power that they can dispense down to earth, and appealing directly to the same type of deities for a prognosis about one’s life, the drawing of any hard and fast definitional lines between Phy[w]a and phya would only be misleading.

Pcha Divination in Kurtö Festivals staged in Kurtö include two different divination techniques intimately associated with talismanic stones named Cha or Pcha (often written Phya), depending upon the Kurtöp dialect of the speaker. The same word is also the title designating ancestral deities who count as Sridpa’i lha in Kurtö. These stones are regarded as vital for each community and are highly protected as a result. Each pcha shing tree for worship of Pcha in the region has a small stone shrine beneath it. These shrines are generally termed ‘palace’ (phobrang, CT pho brang). In the central body of such shrines, there is a square niche open to the front side of the shrine. Outside of the festival periods, this niche is sealed from the outside world by ‘nine doors’ that are nine pieces of f lat slate rough-cut to size and held in place with mud until the shrine is opened (pl. 94). The sealed, internal niche houses a set of three round stones approximately the size of large chicken’s eggs and described as having different natural colours. They are designated as gangola 121 due to their association with rivers and their spherical shape that caused by being worn in the river courses from where they originate. The Pcha stones sit inside a small basket that resembles a bird’s nest woven from strips of bamboo skin. This container itself is another version of the life-basket for holding and protecting the ‘souls’ or the vital principles of living beings, and a ritual item used in the domestic cult of specific communities along the extended eastern Himalayas, from

the Srid-pa’i lha worship zone as far east as the Naxi settlement area in north-west Yunnan (see ch. 18). Normally, such life-baskets are hung on the main ritual pillar or the ideally north-facing ancestral wall near the hearth place within a family house and form the protective ‘nest’ for the souls of the natal household. For Kurtö communities who worship Srid-pa’i lha, the tiny life-baskets within the shrines beneath the pcha shing trees protect the Pcha stones because, when their Pcha ancestral deities are brought down to the altar by the bon shaman at each festival, the stones embody the productive lifeenergy or pcha (phy[w]a) of the deities. They are believed to be ‘alive’ and animate in certain ways, and similar ideas and practices can be found elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas.122 The stones are ritually manipulated during the festivals and serve as talismanic objects for connecting with the deities and their powers. Such talismanic stones that represent beings and their life powers or ‘souls’ are common in the cult of the Srid-pa’i lha, and various examples are given throughout this study. The Pcha deities themselves are said to dwell permanently at the top of the sky world and are only temporarily associated with the Pcha stones during festivals, yet the stones themselves are described as animate even when the deities are no longer present. This belief is strong and informs various local tales about the stones. For example, above the settlement of Zhamling there is the small Buddhist temple and dwelling of the mKho’u-chung Chos-rje lineage descended from Padma Gling-pa. One tale about this religious lineage and the Pcha stones is as follows: One day the mKho’u-chung Chos-rje said, “Ah, they have Pcha in the phobrang, so let us see them.” He opened the phobrang, and seeing the stones exclaimed, “There is nothing here, just three stones!” So he flung the stones away to the east, south and west. The stones then moved by themselves and reassembled as a group. Somebody standing nearby saw and heard the stones, which were vibrating and moving about. The stones jointly discussed cutting off the mKho’u-chung Chos-rje lineage because of what had happened, then sung this song together:

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The mKho’u-chung Chos-rje, [Is like] horse shit and cow shit. Cut off his lineage!123 Today, the mKho’u-chung Chos-rje lineage remains at the site, albeit reduced in vigour.124 During each annual festival for Pcha at Tabi (and formerly at Zhamling), the local bon shaman called pchami first brought down the ancestral deities from the sky on the eighth day of the eighth lunar month. His assistants then built a ‘tent’-like hut of stout Artemisia branches with a white cloth draped over them, and this construction covered the front of the phobrang shrine. The shaman then entered this tent, opened the nine stone doors and removed the basket containing the Pcha stones. He then carefully extracted them from the basket and performed an ablution rite (khrus) to wash them gently with fresh milk and spring water, after which he wrapped them in a long, silk felicitation scarf decorated with auspicious designs (sman rtsi dar). The ablution water was later sprinkled upon all festival participants to purify them. Still within the Artemisia tent, the shaman then inspected the other contents of the cane basket since a handful of harvest grains were placed in it together with the stones during each previous festival before the phobrang was permanently sealed again for the following two years. These locally grown, mixed grains called druna (CT ’bru-sna) or karcham nagcham comprise unhusked ‘rice’ (Kurtöp mra but with the Tibetan ritual name karcham) and ‘bitter buckwheat’ (Kurtöp brama, but with the Tibetan ritual name nagcham). If the grains had remained untouched by insects, this was a highly positive prognostic for all life in the community during the coming two years. If insect damage was present, this was a negative prognostic for crop cultivation. The stones and fresh karcham nagcham were replaced in the basket, and then returned temporarily into the phobrang until needed again on the thirteenth day of the eighth lunar month, the last day of the festival. One of the last rites on the last day of a Pcha festival was when the pchami shaman gained omens in dreams. This is formerly known as lha’i rmi lam or ‘the lha’s dream’. On a small f lat area punctuated by rocks rising from the earth somewhat removed from the phobrang and pcha shing, a

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‘tent’-like hut the height of a person was constructed from leafy branches, with a f loor area sufficient for the pchami shaman and the umpa ‘horn blower’ to both lie down within. The hut is termed pcha’i may ‘pcha's house’ and its immediate vicinity was completely off-limits to all other persons. During the afternoon, both shamans collected the basket with the Pcha stones from the phobrang, with it resting upon a red cloth in the palms of the pchami's hands and then covered over by a sman rtsi dar scarf. They walked the fifty metres to the hut with the covered stones held aloft while the umpa heralded their journey by blowing his horn. The horn was hung on a forked stick outside the hut, and both men entered it and proceeded to lie down and sleep together with the Pcha stones. Simultaneously, at a series of four large rocks around the flat area, one young male pcha’i bu performers (i.e., lha’i bu elsewhere) also lie down and slept next to each rock. Whether any of the performers actually ‘sleeps’ during the rite is a moot point. Downhill from the flat area and the hut, the young female pcha’i lcam (elsewhere lha’i bu mo, lha’i sras mo) performers sat in a line and sung a long chant, for the entire duration of which the shamans and the pcha’i bu above them remained asleep. As soon as the chant was finished, the pcha’i bu each arose from sleep and climbed upon his respective rock in a specific sequence, and mimicked a specific animal call, after which they fell back asleep again. The first to arise was the pcha’i bu who mimicked the call of the kuhung bird (a nightjar, Caprimulgus spp.) three times from the top of his rock. The kuhung is nocturnal and often calls with a somewhat mechanical song during the middle of the night. Next was the one who mimicked three times the pre-dawn crowing of the domestic cock (khataleng). He was then followed by the one who mimicked the call of the langchen or blue whistling thrush (Myophonus caeruleus) three times, which always calls as dawn breaks. This attractive bird can often be seen in the eastern Himalayas jumping quickly from rock to rock along stream banks or in dry watercourses, and after his mimicked call the langchen performer jumped back and forth between a series of rocks around him to mimic langchen behaviour. Finally, the one who mimicked the rokhyi or domestic dog arose. Unlike the three birds before him, the person mimicking the dog had to sleep within a

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

hole excavated in the earth and covered over by a coat. After mimicking the dog’s howl three times, he too goes back to sleep. At this point, the brospön (CT bro dpon) or ‘bro master’ walked over to the hut, and called to the shamans within, “Get up, it is time to arise! The kuhung, khataleng, langchen and rokhyi have all called and barked one after the other, so it is time to get up now!”125 At this point, all the ritual actors arose or came to gather at the site. Inside the hut, the two shamans sit up and began to talk to those outside. Any dreams the pchami shaman may have had were then reported and interpreted as ‘dream omens’ (rmi lam rtags pa) for the assembled public. When the pchami reported ‘This coming year, no sickness or accident will come’ or ‘This coming year, the harvest will be good’, all those outside called out together ‘Legs so! Legs so!’ meaning ‘Excellent! Excellent!’ The pchami reports prognoses on many domestic concerns, including animal health and at length on the future condition of the ‘nine grain [crops]’ (’bru dgu) representing the ideal of all staples grown in the village, detailing an omen for each crop in turn. The pchami’s dream omens, which the Pcha stones impart directly to him while he sleeps with them, are always positive during this divination. The point of the rite is the same as all those other rites that also depend upon mimicking within the cult of the Srid-pa’i lha. The omens or prognoses are simultaneously aspirations, and mimicking is the ritual technique that will allow them to be actualised by the community in the coming year. The same magical power of mimicking is drawn upon during other annual, communal revitalisation rites related to domestic production throughout the research area, including the kengpa126 performance for swidden cultivation of millet I have documented elsewhere, and some forms of the nawan rites related to hunting described in chapter 13.

7.5

and some parts of Tawang, were found to possess these secret spells. We know this from the reports of living ritual specialists themselves, but also from the surviving manuscripts once used by deceased specialists. Further south from this northern zone, there was no evidence of secret spells to be found. I cannot completely discount that they are present elsewhere, and merely remained undisclosed by my ritual specialist informants due to the inherent nature of the phenomenon. Whenever I inadvertently came across the issue of secret spells by posing certain questions, or was seeking to photograph a manuscript collection, a barrier was invariably raised – polite yet firm – towards further investigation. This was in stark contrast to the otherwise complete openness and full cooperation I received from all bon shaman’s who acted as my informants and consultants concerning any other dimensions of Srid-pa’i lha worship I sought to document. On repeat visits to certain persons, when more understanding of, and trust in, my research aims had been developed, some general questions about the spells were eventually answered, and I was also able to read several written spell manuscripts from collections formerly used by lineages which are now defunct. In order to respect my informants’ wish that secrecy of actual content be maintained, I will summarise my findings without citing the actual words of the spells themselves. Secret spells are mostly referred to as ‘spells’ (sngags) and sometimes ‘essential instructions’ (gdams ngag). Within institutionalised religious contexts, such as Tibetan-style Buddhism, throughout the wider cultural region the term gdams ngag usually indicates the important oral instructions that religious teachers impart to their closest students. In the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the secret spells sometimes termed gdams ngag are ideally passed orally from the retiring bon shaman to his successor when the role is transmitted between hereditary incumbents. In some cases, the spells are also written down as an aide-memoire.

Secret Spells

Another feature exclusive to certain hereditary bon shamans is their possession of secret spells. Most shaman lineages operating across the northern distribution zone of Sridpa’i lha worship, specifically in Kurtö, Khoma, Bumdeling

A written spell usually consists of one or more lines comprised of strings of mantra-like syllables, with a few accompanying lines of instructions concerning their power and deployment. These instructions explicitly describe them in such terms as ‘spells for bringing human beings and demons

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under one’s power’ (mi dang ’dre dbang du ’dus pa’i sngags). The verbal utterance of these syllables is said to be a powerful act, and this is the primary reason spells are kept secret by individual shaman lineages, who should use them only on behalf of their local worship community or to protect themselves when performing rites. The known possession of these spells is one reason bon shamans and their property are often regarded with some degree of cautious respect or even fear within their communities. Bon shamans say that they should recite these spells prior to performing the rites for any Srid-pa’i lha festivals, although in only one of my ethnographic documentations of festivals was I able to confirm this as occurring (see ch. 9). A common reason given for use of spells in this way is to protect the bon shaman, such that no other ill-intentioned beings can disturb the efficacious performance of his rites or the participation of the worship community. While the overall form of secret spells is generally similar, their content varies from one lineage to the next. Specific spells often have their own meaningful names. These names themselves are not secret and are known by the interested public within a community, or they can be found cited in written documents. For example, in the lower Khoma Chu valley community, a secret spell manuscript opens with these words, ‘This essential instruction [called] Zab mo snying gyi khu ba; I request that this itself not be given to others.’127 The name Zab mo snying gyi khu ba may be glossed as Juice/Semen of the Profound Pith. At Tsango in the upper Khoma Chu valley, the lhami shaman possesses the spell named Phig pa tshig gsum, which could be glossed as Three Piercing Words. This name is in fact remarkably similar to those spells cited in the Byol rabs narratives from the old dGa’-thang manuscripts, which may date to the eleventh century. In the Byol rabs, at the end of a rite, and referring to the ritual specialist using the spells, they are described as pha ngags tshigs gsum and bon sngags tshigs gsum, the ‘three word pha spell’ and ‘three word bon spell’, respectively. 128 The terms pha (or pa) and bon are both commonly used to refer to the type of ritual specialists who use these verbal techniques, while bon in such contexts can commonly mean ‘rite’. Furthermore, the same (pa/pha) tshig gsum formulation referring to a spell chanted by bon po or gshen is found

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in several pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan ritual antecedent narratives and liturgies.129 Its continued use in our research area is highly significant, being yet another apparent survival of a very much older Tibetan ritual culture in the hands of autonomous ritual specialists.

7.6 Maintenance of the Vitality Principle A bon shaman’s rites are not only aimed at achieving cyclic revitalisation, they also maintain the enduring mobile vitality principle (CT bla plus numerous cognates in Himalayan languages, often glossed as ‘soul’) associated with the human body. The idea of human life based upon this principle is not only a demonstrably very old idea in the region, it has also been universally reported for populations who speak Tibeto-Burman languages throughout the extended eastern Himalayas and across the Tibetan Plateau. It is a concept of central ritual concern within this entire region. Such is its importance that rites for the mobile vitality principle are not the monopoly of any single tradition, but are conducted by a wide range of different, local ritual specialists. These types of rites, well represented in Old Tibetan documents, also eventually became incorporated into the organised cults of both Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon. The bon shamans of the northern zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship, in the valleys where Dakpa, Dzala and Kurtöp are spoken between Tawang and Kurtö, preserve a very rare type of ritual technology for maintaining the mobile vitality principle. Since these techniques are highly significant from a comparative perspective, and because I was unable to clearly observe certain stages of them during those specific festivals documented in part IV, I will treat them here in some detail. It is possible to distinguish between three different types of rites employed for managing the mobile vitality principle. The first two types are more closely related, and they have been widely discussed in the existing scholarship. 130 The first type of rite is for conducting the mobile vitality principle of the deceased which endures post-mortem to some final resting place, be it a ‘land of the dead’ or ‘realm of the ancestors’, and so forth. The second type of rite we can

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identify as the ‘lost soul’ type deployed to regain and return a missing mobile vitality principle to a patient, usually to cure attendant symptoms of physical illness, depression and listlessness, and even a death-like state of coma – sometimes soul loss patients are even described as being ‘dead’. Both types of rites mostly employ a preliminary divination to locate, and/or a ritual journey to guide the mobile vitality principle to a desired location, such as to a patient’s body, an object of abode (CT bla gnas), or a post-mortem destination. Such techniques frequently involve ‘calling’ back – again the same verb complex bkug/khug[s]/dgug/’gug[s] as found in verbal ritual journeys – the mobile vitality principle, or the related use of sound to ‘hook’ it. Another closely related technique is the use of a ‘ransom’ (bslu, glud) considered of equal value in exchange for, or for repurchase of the mobile vitality principle. The third type of rite can be described as preserving or maintaining the mobile vitality principle within the human body such that it does not depart for whatever reason. These practices are more pre-emptive in nature, as opposed to dealing directly with a present crisis of affliction or mortality. Such rites almost always involve a ritual specialist ‘planting’ (CT btsugs) a ritual device directly at the fontanelle upon the crown of the head of the subject, although sometimes a thread or ribbon can be tied around a specific part of the body, such as the neck, for the same effect.131 The device the specialist plants at the crown of the head contains or holds the mobile vitality principle within the body, preventing its departure and thus preserving its stability and that of the recipient’s overall life force by extension.132 This is the technique used by the bon shaman.

Origins of the Planting Rite The bon shaman’s technique of ‘planting’ a ritual device upon the crown of the head to hold the mobile vitality principle is an ancient one attested in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan documents. Our oldest records reveal that two different devices were used, namely stalks of the ritual plant Ephedra (mtshe) and bird feathers.

Ephedra Stalks Among several Old Tibetan documents that cite use of Ephedra, we find it in a planting rite in the ritual text PT 1134. The text contains a tale about a prodigious man who nevertheless dies due to demonic forces acting against him. Brandon Dotson has translated the poetic lament concerning this untimely demise of someone in their prime: In a land where men do not die, a man has died and is no more. In a land where cattle do not stray, the cow has strayed and is no more. If the prodigious child should die, there is no bon to revive him. [...] The lord is dead and is no more. The turquoise is crumbled and is no more. The man you pray for – there is no use praying. The Ephedra [stalk] that you plant – there is no use planting it (mtshe gzugs gzugsu ma tsugs).133 We are not explicitly told in PT 1134 where planting or inserting of the Ephedra is to be done; that is made clear in later texts. However, from the context it was clearly the head that was intended, and that the rite could restore a compromised life or rescue an endangered life. The image of the crumbled turquoise in the lament alludes to the known practice of this stone as talismanic abode (gnas) holding a person’s mobile vitality principle intact and being worn upon or about the head. This also obviously points to a permanent and mortal loss of the mobile vitality principle, and that to prevent this would have been the object of planting an Ephedra stalk onto the head of a compromised person, together with expressing aspirations (smon lam) for a cure or reversal. Using Ephedra for this purpose in relation to the mobile vitality principle is also confirmed in one of only three Old Tibetan documents which inform us about Ephedra’s use during rites. The ritual accounts in IOL Tib J 734 describe measured units of the plant being ‘strewn’ (bor) and also ‘placed on/established as an effigy’ (nyan du btsugs) as components of ‘ransom’ (glud) rites for retrieving the vitality principle (rla < bla).134 Thanks to the evidence in the dGa’-thang manuscripts from gTam-shul, we can be fairly certain that the Ya-ngal and the

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mtshe mi traditions reviewed above, which are both intimately associated with ritual planting of Ephedra stalks and feathers in the cult, have their old epicentre upon the Tibetan Plateau in this same geographical zone of southernmost Central Tibet. In chapters 14 through 16, I will demonstrate that this zone was the proximate origin place of the Himalayan rites I recorded, as well as the territory of the agents who transmitted the rites southwards. It is of comparative interest that the very old, mundane rite of planting an Ephedra stalk on the head for maintaining stability of the mobile vitality principle within the body also seems to have been the basis for a Tibetan Buddhist adaptation. This yielded the religious rite of ‘planting the [grass] stalk’ (’ jag btsugs ma) on the crown of the head during certain forms of the consciousness transfer (’pho ba) procedure.135

Bird Feathers The second ritual device used in the planting rite are bird feathers, which are functionally equivalent in all ways with Ephedra for maintaining the mobile vitality principle in the body via the head. A feather used for this ritual purpose is called a bya ru or ‘bird horn’. In the ethnographic data, we find the use of bya ru feathers has all but completely replaced the mtshe stalk in practice nowadays, although the latter’s use remains encoded into local ritual narratives and icons of Srid-pa’i lha worship. It is possible that Ephedra, a plant of dry highlands, has gradually fallen out of use since migrants from southern Tibet transferred such Srid-pa’i lha cult practices into the wetter, lower valleys of the adjacent Himalayas, where Ephedra only grows in a few very high, cold and remote mountain valleys and is rather hard to come by. Very little has been written about the possible meanings of the term bya ru. Dan Martin and Roberto Vitali both investigated the g.Yung-drung Bon context and concluded that there it refers to a type of finial ornament or symbol atop a mchod rten shrine, and/or a crown ornament for ancient ‘Bon’ rulers, which is in part cognate with the first symbol.136 Curiously, probably the oldest and most genuine historical account of an ancient royal court on the Tibetan Plateau actually describes the attendant ritual specialists as wearing

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bird hats on their heads, rather than the ruler himself.137 Be that as it may, the term bya ru in the context of the Srid-pa’i lha cult always only refers to bird’s feathers ‘planted’ (btsugs, the invariable verb here) directly upon the top of the head as a form of ritual protection for the mobile vitality principle. The antiquity of this specific ritual meaning, like that for Ephedra stalks, is attested in Old Tibetan documents. There we find the term consistently indicates bird feathers ‘planted’ (btsugs) directly upon the heads of persons or animals who are ritual actors in the context of death rites.138 Some scholars have drawn attention to an Old Tibetan analogy concerning Phywa beings and mountains, and feathers and arrows, in which the “feather assures the equilibrium of the arrow”.139 This is also an allusion to the function of bya ru planted on the head; in the later tradition, at least, the arrow symbolically represents the body of a man as receptacle for the mobile vitality principle. Exactly the same ‘planting’ (btsugs) of feathers upon the head is found in a description of the costume of a lay ritual specialist recorded in mid-thirteenth century Tibet.140 In the particular context of death rites, planting feathers upon the head is related to a common regional belief explained by many of my own informants in the Himalayas and Tibetan Plateau areas. This concerns the notion of ‘contagious mobility’ in relation to departing or roaming ‘souls’ of the dead. Due to loneliness, fear and alienation, the now disembodied deceased may cause the vitality principles of other living beings in their proximity – such as mourning family members or funeral attendants – to also be enticed away, depart the bodies they normally dwell within, and join the soul of the deceased. The practice recorded in Old Tibetan documents of planting feathers upon the heads of psychopomp horses used to escort the soul of the deceased to the post-mortem destination during funeral rites is still performed today upon horses playing this role in Moso and Naxi funeral rites.141 And as we will see in chapter 17, the planting of feathers upon the human head in relation to protection of the soul is strongly attested in the ethnographic records of the extended eastern Himalayas, also in the domain of death rites. Within the Mon-yul Corridor, the bya ru device is a standard part of both the bon shaman’s and lha’i bu sub-shaman’s ritual headgear, as the seat for their auxiliaries termed

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

variously lha, gsas, bon and gshen, which I described above. The feathers with auxiliaries on them have the function of securing the vitality principle of the specialist within his body during potentially dangerous liminal rites. These same bya ru are also deployed for the benefit of either the whole worship community or that segment of it who are the primary ritual sponsors during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. This takes place through the use of a special device called a palo (written pa lo, spa lo) which bears the bya ru feathers and sometimes stripes of cloth with the same function as feathers, and these are eventually used to protect the pla vitality principles of those who receive them. The term palo itself is best explained in context of its construction below. Use of palo features as a central aspect in festivals dedicated to the Srid-pa’i lha from as far west as Lawa at the confluence of the Khoma Chu and Kuri Chu rivers, across to Tawang in the east. At sites where a palo is used, a ritual specialist called the palopa (or bau at Lhau in Tawang) is dedicated to performing with it. These positions are often hereditary and subject to most of the ritual restrictions and behavioural rules a bon shaman must observe, while there is some suggestion the palopa has direct connection with auxiliary deities. Thus, like the horn blower described above, palopa can sometimes usefully be described as sub-shamans. The palo’s construction is defined by a descriptive rabs narrative that is chanted together with a bro performance once the structure has been completed. Here I give a short documentation of palo construction and rites at the Pla festival celebrated during December 2012 by the Srid-pa’i lha worship community of Lawa village in north-eastern Bhutan.142

Palo at the Pla Festival of Lawa The village of Lawa sits strategically upon a high ridge immediately north of and overlooking the conf luence of the Kuri Chu and Khoma Chu rivers (pl. 95). 143 Elderly inhabitants cautioned me that “Lawa” is an outsider’s pronunciation of the name, whereas they themselves actually pronounce the village name as “Lhau”. This seemingly minor detail may have significance for the regional history of settlement and the Srid-pa’i lha cult across the Dzala

and Dakpa language area. 144 The Lawa community of 100 persons living in fifteen households is composed of two small hamlets, Lawa itself and the tiny settlement of Taladar just over a kilometre away to the north-west along the same ridge system. Despite the twin locations, all residents are closely related and have a shared community identity. While Taladar has a small Buddhist temple, the main Lawa hamlet has none. 145 One and a half kilometres due east of Lawa, another small hamlet, Namgong, lies 700 metres lower down within the Khoma Chu valley. Namgong has some close affinal ties with Lawa, with a portion of Lawa’s lower fields located in its vicinity, although Namgong itself is not viewed as an integral part of the Lawa-Taladar community identity. All residents of these various hamlets are native speakers of the Khoma Chu valley sub-dialects, sometimes called Khomakha, of the East Bodish language named Dzala. Lawa represents the linguistic boundary between Dzala and all the Kurtöp speakers immediately to the west along the Kuri Chu valley. Beyond common dialect, descent and affinal ties, Lawa’s unique community identity is also based in part upon its local history as an old power centre, as well as shared participation in its two very different non-Buddhist community ritual systems; the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and the worship of a common territorial deity. In fact, Lawa appears to have had a long history as a power centre. The nearest Kurtöp speaking village is the settlement of Gangzur which is one vertical kilometre directly below Lawa on the west bank of the Kuri Chu river, and this location gives Gangzur its old name meaning ‘at the edge of the hill’ (CT sGang-zur). 146 Cultural relations, possibly very old ones, flow across the linguistic divide here between Lawa and Gangzur. For one, Lawa has a specific ritual relationship with Gangzur by way of Srid-pa’i lha worship, and here Gangzur is obviously the subordinate partner. Lawa’s hereditary Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialist or plami and one of his assistants annually descend to conduct Gangzur’s Cha (or Pcha, depending upon the speaker) festival, which is merely a very abbreviated form of Lawa’s more elaborate Pla festival. The two villages pay their respects to each other’s specific Srid-pa’i lha deities because they are considered siblings. However, apart from the Lawa ritual specialist’s brief ritual service

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in Gangzur, neither community attends the other’s Sridpa’i lha festival and there are few known social relations between them. Indeed, during Pla festivals at Lawa, Gangzur inhabitants are ridiculed, being the butt of numerous ribald jokes and humorous skits to the delight of the Lawa public. Perhaps such asymmetrical overtones have a much deeper background to them? The area called sGang-zurstod or ‘Upper Gangzur’ features in late seventeenth century sources as the location of a former stronghold (mkhar) of the Wang-ma clan, known as Wang-ma-mkhar. 147 The indications are convincing that ridge-top Lawa or its environs was the site of the old Wang-ma-mkhar stronghold. One reason is that its commanding defensive position on a very high and steep ridge above two major rivers is a typical site for important early mkhar that we know of from ruins elsewhere. Moreover, this ‘upland’ (stod) location is certainly what the old name sGang-zur-stod is describing

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é Plate 95. Lawa village above the confluence of the Kuri Chu and Khoma Chu valleys, north-east Bhutan, 2014.

rather than the present Gangzur settlement deep within the river valley below. A Wang name persists today in the immediate vicinity of Lawa; its common territorial deity is identified with a hill ridge to the north called Wang La.148 Finally, and most importantly, Lawa continued to be the base of a local ruling lineage. In pre-modern times, Lawa was the seat of a local hereditary ruler known as the Taya Gap. Until the time of the Third King of Bhutan’s reforms during the 1950s aimed at abolishing hereditary privilege, the Taya Gap enjoyed some degree of political inf luence over a small group of Khoma dialect speaking villages, including Lawa-Taladar, Namgong, Gangla and Khoma.

R ite Techniques of Bon sh a m a ns

The history of the Taya Gap remains elusive due to loss of local documents. Yet, the view is held by villagers that Gap Sherab was a strong supporter of Urgyen Wangchuk at the time the latter became the First King of Bhutan in 1907.149 The descendants of the last Taya Gap still occupy the family seat, an imposing old stone house that dominates Lawa village. I mention all of this here because the pattern throughout most Srid-pa’i lha worship communities within the entire region is that formerly important lineage households and their family members play fundamental roles in worship of the Srid-pa’i lha as ancestral deities, just as their actual dwelling houses function as key sites of ritual. At Lawa, the house of the Taya Gap is an important venue for certain phases of the Pla festival, and one household member holds a hereditary position as the umpa or ‘horn blower’.

The Palo Device Viewed functionally as a ritual device, the palo structure holds the bya ru feathers and sometimes also brightly coloured cloth strips which are used to protect the mobile vitality principle (pla) of all the worshippers during a Sridpa’i lha festival. The palo structure is primarily related to the chief patrilineal deity or ancestor of the founding clan of a settlement or worship community and, depending upon the site, the auxiliary beings are also invoked to reside on it. At Lawa, all these deities are described as coming down from the sky, and they are intimately related to the pla or mobile vitality principle of clan members. In the Dakpa speaking zone to the east, such patrilineal deities also have the title Pla preceding their names. It is for precisely this reason that many Srid-pa’i lha festivals throughout the Tawang region were named Pla, and why the festival at Lawa also has that name. This connection between palo and patrilineal deities is clear in the descriptions of rites from the Lhamoche festival of Tsango (ch. 9), where three palo are used for the three patrilineal deities of the three founding clans, which later became represented by three discrete stronghold foundations (mkhar) around which settlement was based. In local worship texts for Pla at Lawa, we find descriptions of two deities, Gurzhe and Thouzhe (written Tho’u-bzhe,

Tho’u-rje), as being specific to patrilineages (rus tsho), although nowadays there is only one palo used. While the memory and worship of Gurzhe continues as a strong and central feature of Lawa’s Pla festival, the significance of Thouzhe is no longer actively remembered, although his name is chanted by Lawa’s plami ritual specialist during the festival. This is hardly surprising, since clan organisation had been on the decline socially and politically in this region from the time of the founding of the Bhutanese ’Brug-pa hierocracy, which installed its own alternative form of social organisation based upon taxpaying subjects and households within a centralised administration and power structure. Thus, Gurzhe is associated with the palo, and we assume the second palo for Thouzhe was discontinued during the past. When asked about the significance of the palo, I found that many ordinary householders who were sponsors and worshippers at Lawa simply answered that it was to ‘make the lha happy’ but did not specify which deity they meant. Actual construction of the palo occurs on lHa-mchong-ma (‘jumping for the lha’), the third day of the six-day Pla festival. The palo is used extensively during lhachong and bro performances on the fourth day named Khrom-ma-rgyan, and again more exclusively for the final rites on the sixth day which is thus named Pa-lo Yar-bzheng (‘raising up the palo’). To make the palo, the plami, the umpa or ‘horn blower’ and the palopa sat together at nine o’clock in the morning on the day of lHa-mchong-ma upon mats spread out at the flat communal area (langthang) in the centre of Lawa village (pl. 96 a). They wore clean and neat layman’s clothing rather than their regular ritual costumes. The palo at Lawa is a fan-shaped wooden framework. It has a single vertical stem of cedar wood about five centimetres wide with a series of holes at regular intervals along each side and on the top. Into these holes, seven horizontal bamboo struts are inserted, three along each side, plus one vertical strut at the very top. Between these struts, a series of strings of white woollen yarn are tied to form a network, with the resulting framework resembling a spider web-like pattern. The word palo used by both Dzala and Dakpa speakers seems to refer to this overall effect, since in Classical Tibetan pa lo is

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a. Assembling frame and plucking feathers.

b. Attaching threads and feathers.

c. Adding the cloth cover.

d. Performing the Spa lo rabs.

é Plate 96. Stages of constructing and activating a palo (a.-d.) during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

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a synonym for lhas/lhes ma that refers to ‘wicker-work’ or braided constructions in which materials are interlaced.150 Once the framework is finished, many white cock feathers are attached to the strings and struts (pl. 96 b), and the whole device is then covered with silken cloth on one side (pl. 96 c). This cloth is called ‘decoration’ (rgyan), however its practical function is protection so that the feathers are not easily knocked or blown off while the palo is used during rites. The central stem (khongs shing) of solid fir or cedar wood is reused year after year, however the strut arms (phyang shing) of thin bamboo are usually replaced with new ones during each festival. The white yarn (nam bu) strings must be newly spun from clean sheep’s wool, while the feathers (spu kha) must be plucked from the body of a live cock (pl. 96 a). This last step was done with great care so as not to aggravate the bird, which was fed grain and water during the process to help pacify it. Construction of the palo took about one hour to complete. At around midday, the plami, umpa and palopa ritually washed themselves and donned their full costumes. They were accompanied by a ten year old boy, who was a close relative of one of the ritual specialists, and who was being quietly groomed as a future, potential successor to their role. The boy cradled the white cock in his arms, and all four proceeded to the ritual site (dongthan) named Khromma-rgyan. This name is highly significant for the meaning and origins of palo rites, and will be discussed in chapter 17. Khrom-ma-rgyan is located immediately behind the village and faces eastwards up the Khoma Chu valley, over which there is a grandiose view exactly from the location of this dongthan. East is the direction from which the founding clans arrived bringing Srid-pa’i lha worship with them, according to origin myths. After purifying themselves and the site with a fumigation rite, the ritual specialists formed a circle around a flat, natural stone slab altar upon which stood a barrel of ritual beer, the plami’s manuscript bundle and a burning twig of juniper incense. They performed bro steps around this circle while the plami led the chanting of the Spa lo rabs reading from a manuscript the other three joined in with a refrain. They stepped around the circle in an anticlockwise bon skor

direction (pl. 96 d). The step sequence was led by the plami, with a short step forward around the circle, a ninety degree turn in towards the central altar with the right side of the body, a slight pause, a reverse turn back to the line of the circle, and then the next step forward again. All steps were performed slowly, and without any hand gestures. Lawa is the only site I came across at which the Spa lo rabs still survives in manuscript form. The text, which describes all the components and their origins, is as follows: Now, to explain the narrative of the spa lo: As for the fir tree that grows in the highlands, [13a] Firstly, the manner of its sprouting must be good. Second, its roots must be steadfast. Third, its mid-section must be narrow and straight. Fourth, its crown must be beautiful. Fifth, the way it is cut down must be right. Sixth, the carpenter [who works its wood] must be good. It is for the central stem of the spa lo. [12b...]

As for the bamboo that grows in the forests, Firstly, the manner of its sprouting must be good. Second, its roots must be steadfast. Third, its mid-section must be narrow and straight. Fourth, its top must be beautiful. Fifth, the way it is cut down must be right. Sixth, the carpenter [who works its wood] must be good. It is for the long, straight arms of the spa lo. As for the white woollen cloth from Tibet,151 [13b] Firstly, the way the wool is cut must be right. Second, the way it is rolled together 152 [into yarn threads] must be good. Third, the way it is spun must be nice. Fourth, the way it is hung up153 must be right. Fifth, the way the warp154 [is set on the loom] must be good. Sixth, the way it is woven must be nice. Seventh, it must have an excellent colour. It is for the internal decoration of the spa lo.

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î Plate 97. A palopa holding the palo during a rite, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

í Plate 98. Palopa performing with palo bearing silk or brocade ribbons and cock feathers, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

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As for the silks and brocades from China, Firstly, the way the silk is rolled together [into threads] must be right. Second, the way it is spun must be good. Third, the way the warp [is set on the loom] must be nice. Fourth, the way it is woven must be right. Fifth, the weft 155 must be good. [14a] Sixth, it must have an excellent colour. Seventh, it should not be too narrow. It is for the external decoration of the spa lo. As for how to search for the cock of the village, Firstly, the birth of the cock chick must be excellent. Second, its crowing must be good. Third, its feathers must be impressive. It is for decorating the tips of the spa lo. With that, the Spa lo rabs is completed.156 After this, the palo was considered ready for use.

Deployment of the Palo Once the palo is made and activated using the rite, it is treated with great care as a ritual object in the same manner the plami treats his rabs manuscripts and flat bell and the umpa his horn. When not being held aloft, it is always either carefully laid down at places considered to be ritually pure, or laid upon a bed of fresh Artemisia (Dzala and Kurtöp ne’u and dungmin) branches since that pungent herb is one of the main purifying plants for Srid-pa’i lha worship. When the palo is deployed during chants and bro performances, it is held in two basic ways. The main stance involves the palopa ideally holding the structure with both hands at the level of his own head, so that its base is around the height of his hairline (pl. 97, 98). Seen from certain angles, the palo thus resembles an elaborate piece of headgear, and indeed this was obviously its original form during the past, as I will discuss in chapter 17. During the Pla festivals staged at Lhau in Tawang until 1998, and documented in chapter 12, the palo locally called meto palo was indeed worn by a performer named the bau as a type of hat of the

same general construction as other palo (fig. 20). The second stance involves the palopa holding the palo and bowing forward with it until it reached nearly to the ground, and then raising the palo upwards again through an arch of approximately 180 degrees so that it ends up above his head. Sometimes this movement is performed three times in a row. Again, the bau at Lhau in Tawang moved in the same manner with his meto palo hat during the past. This stance of the palopa also echoes other traditions connected with the origins of the palo, as I will discuss in chapter 17. Pa-lo Yar-bzheng, literally ‘raising up the palo’, is the name for the final day of the Lawa Pla festival. During the midafternoon, the plami, umpa and palopa gathered around the hearth in the main room of the old lineage house of the Taya Gap, who were the premodern political leaders of the area. The three specialists no longer wore their ritual costumes but had each donned a clean and neat traditional gown and a white khabney scarf instead. From the perspective of facing the hearth directly, the plami was seated on its left side immediately next to the hearth, the palopa to his right, and the umpa in turn to his right. To the right of the umpa, in a line along the wall, were seated the four prepubescent girls who were the pla’i lcam or ‘wives of the Pla’ (see ch. 8). Together, these seven persons had served as the core group of ritual specialists maintaining direct contacts with the deities during the Pla festival. The location and seating order used by the three ritual specialists is the same as they used at the very start of the Lawa Pla festival, when the Sridpa’i lha were first invited to descend from the top of the sky, down through the roof of the Taya Gap’s house and to alight at the hearth place to receive their initial tshogs offerings. And there, also in the same spot, the festival came to its ritual conclusion during Pa-lo Yar-bzheng. The remainder of the room was crowded with worshippers seated along all the free walls or huddled together on the floor on the opposite side of the hearth place to that of the specialists. The palo device had been stored above the drying rack directly over the hearth around which the ritual specialists were seated. It was laid carefully upon a bed of ritually pure Artemisia branches. Directly behind the ritual specialists was a shelf upon which the horn was laid on another bed

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a. The plami opening the palo.

b. Planting a palo feather by the plami and blessing with the ritual horn.

c. The planted feather to protect the pla.

d. Wearing feathers to protect the pla.

é Plate 99. Stages during the rite of planting bya ru feathers from a palo (a.-d.) during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

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of Artemisia. Once everyone had been seated around the hearth, the palo was taken down by the palopa who held its wooden stem carefully with his white khabney wrapped around it rather than directly contacting it with his hands. The horn was lifted from its bed of Artemisia by the umpa and held aloft with both hands upon his white khabney, and like the palo, remaining untouched by his hands. The idea is that since the Srid-pa’i lha have been in contact with both implements throughout the entire festival, they are both directly charged with the life powers of the deities. While the palopa held the palo in front of the plami, the latter began to carefully remove its silk cloth backing, and then painstakingly detached the first cock feather from its outer structure (pl. 99 a). The plami then planted this first feather upon the crown of the head of the palopa who bowed respectfully forward to receive it, and he repeated the same procedure on the umpa. Removing the third feather, the plami handed it to the palopa who then planted it upon the crown of the plami’s own head. The plami then planted the next feathers on the heads of the four pla’i lcam girls, who stood before him one after the other bowed at the waist in respect while receiving their feathers, and immediately after which they moved to their left in front of the umpa who gently touched the horn upon the crowns of their heads (pl. 99 b). After the ritual specialists had been dealt with, each person who was gathered within the room, beginning with the main sponsor household members, came and received their own feather and life blessing from the horn. When asked what the feathers and the horn blessing meant to them, worshipper reported they were receiving either tshe or tshe ring from the rite, and that the feather would protect their life (pl. 99 c-d).

the horn had been stored in the attic shrine, the two ritual specialists went back and re-joined the plami who remained unmoved seated next to the hearth along with all other worshippers. The remainder of the Pa-lo Yar-bzheng day was taken up by rites to distribute fertilising and vitalising powers to the participants of the types documented in part IV. The eastern Himalayan origins of the palo device and rite will be considered comparatively in chapter 17.

As soon as everyone who came forward had received a feather and a blessing, both the umpa and the palopa left the sponsor’s house carrying the horn and walked to the family house of the plami. There they ascended the notched log ladders up to the attic level directly underneath the roof. It is there, as is the case in most parts of the region, that all the main ritual paraphernalia of the ritual specialists, but especially the horn and the rabs manuscripts, are kept stored securely under lock and key in a special shrine box. Once

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8.

Oth er R it ua l Per for m er s in th e Cu lt

Bon shamans and special cases of hereditary sub-shamans described in previous chapters are invariably the central ritual actors in Srid-pa’i lha worship. However, they are never found as solo virtuosos who dominate the rites entirely or fully monopolise attention. There is a range of other ritual performers involved. One type primarily provides forms of technical support for the shaman, and follow his lead and instructions in invoking the deities, chanting and the process of making offerings. The names and functions of such ritual assistants vary greatly from site to site. Examples of them, including purification specialists (gtsang mi), horn blowers (umpa) and bearers of the palo device (palopa), have been mentioned already and more can be gained in the festival documentations of part IV. The other significant ritual actors featuring in most festivals of Srid-pa’i lha worship are groups of young, male and – less often nowadays – female performers. Their roles are not primarily a form of technical support. Rather, they directly address or have an autonomous relationship with the Srid-pa’i lha, and all are engaged with the central theme of revitalisation in one way or another. Due to this, such young male and female performers frequently rank next in status to the bon shaman, in terms of their perceived importance for the success of rites and their proximity to the deities. These groups of young male and female performers are perhaps the most intriguing ritual actors in Srid-pa’i lha worship due to four characteristics which most of them share, regardless of the site they occur at. Firstly, many of them are qualified for their roles by being ‘pure’ prepubescent children, or adolescents and young adults who have never been sexually active or married. This is no mere peculiarity of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. More generally, the pure child

or adolescent as ritual actor is a strongly attested pattern occurring in mundane rites and non-Buddhist myths along this zone of the Himalayan highland borderlands with the Tibetan Plateau, as well as in southern Tibet itself. 1 Secondly, in most of the festivals that still maintain intact and sophisticated performance traditions, these ritual actors are always the most elaborately costumed. Third, they always perform as a group. Finally, the primary ritual function of the male performers invariably features activities conventionally and superficially described as ‘dancing’ and ‘chanting’ in existing accounts, but which in many cases are far more accurately understood and defined as ritualised forms of stamping, jumping, circling, mimicking and as feats of athletic prowess. Female performers of this type are limited to circling performances, some chanting, and addressing hospitality rites towards the deities. Another important point is that many of these roles are – or, at least until very recently, have been – hereditary obligations of specific descent groups who sponsor Srid-pa’i lha festivals. As hereditary positions, they are subject to the same behavioural, dietary and purity observances strictly required of bon shamans and sub-shamans. While such observances are often only temporary in relation to these roles, in various cases they can also be life-long, as is the case for many bon shamans. At some sites where Sridpa’i lha worship traditions have been in decline or not well maintained, one can still find these same roles being performed by any able-bodied persons from the community of ritual sponsors, although clean and neat clothing have often replaced the once highly elaborate costumes and jewellery of the past. At sites where female performers no longer fill these roles, males can dress in women’s clothing

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and jewellery and perform in their stead, such is the value placed upon the ritual participation of both genders during a festival (see ch. 10). The most widespread designation for these male roles is lha’i bu or ‘son of the lha’ (honorific lha’i sras). The literal female equivalent, lha’i bu mo or ‘daughter of the lha’ (hon. lha’i sras mo), is rarer and other terms are often used instead (see below). The male term at least is equivalent to the title lha’i bu used in the Rgyal rigs myths and in Srid-pa’i lha rabs narratives to distinguish Gu-se Lang-ling/Gurzhe as the earthly manifestation or ‘son’ of lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, and as the ancestor of peoples in gDung lineages. The lha’i bu designation is also generic, meaning ‘offspring of the lha’. Applied to young ritual actors of either gender, all forms of the title signify inclusion in descent groups claiming Sridpa’i lha ancestry of some kind, and they thus define membership of the ceremonial units who worship such deities. While these roles are often hereditary, with young and virile males and fertile females favoured as ideal incumbents, technically all members of these ceremonial units have this status. That is why other, often older, persons from the same ceremonial unit can legitimately substitute in these roles when circumstances dictate.

8.1 Stamping When reading many ethnographic accounts of Himalayan shamans one notes that practices employing bodily movement performance are somewhat trivialised in glib phrases such as “the shaman danced”, without elaboration or deeper analysis. This on-going neglect of movement performance in studies of shamans in part represents an over-emphasis upon the hermeneutics of myths and chants and other topics that are artefacts of earlier trends in anthropology. Yet, ritualised bodily movements, their subtle and often sophisticated gestures and sequences, and local ways of categorising and understanding them can tell us a great deal about patterns underlying ritual specialists’ roles and the rites they are charged to perform. They also provide another key comparative index for exploring possible commonalities within what Höfer called inter-regional shamanic

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tradition-complexes existing elsewhere along the Himalayas. The alternative and often interchangeable terms for the lha’i bu[-mo] or lha’i sras[-mo] roles, namely bro pa and bro mo, have already been essentialised with the term ‘dancer’ in existing accounts of Srid-pa’i lha festivals, yet they offer us a great deal of information well beyond that notion. Bro pa and bro mo are nominalised forms of the important word bro, of which many spoken local dialect variations (e.g., pro, bro, bros, boro, buru, and so on) are evident across Srid-pa’i lha worship communities.2 Bro pa and bro mo are usually translated as ‘male dancer’ and ‘female dancer’ in existing literature, while the function of their role is defined as ‘dancing’. However, the etymology and cultural semantics of bro, and the types of ritualised movements that it can define in practice, raise fundamental questions about the appropriateness of labelling it ‘dance’ in any context. English lexicons I consulted generally defined ‘dance’ as rhythmical steps or bodily movements performed together with, or determined by, music. Although not exhaustive, this covers the basis of most common sense and many scholarly understandings of what dance is. Bro meets this basic definition only sometimes. During Srid-pa’i lha worship, bro pa and bro mo frequently perform rhythmical steps or movements without any music produced by an instrument or even hand claps. Often, if no musical instruments are played, bro is performed together with chanting, but that too is not always the case. While there are many scholarly discussions about ‘dance’ available, at this stage of research it is more germane to by-pass that term altogether and instead focus foremost upon local understandings of bodily movement types within the context of Srid-pa’i lha cult practice itself. The term bro in the cult’s ritual language is always governed by two verbs when it describes human bodily movement. These are [b]rdung[s] meaning ‘to beat’, ‘to strike’, and ’khrab[s] ‘to jump’, ‘to leap’ and ‘to beat’, ‘to strike’. Moreover, when both verbs refer to actions specifically with the feet, they mean ‘to stamp’, ‘to tread’. It is highly significant that both these verbs also apply to the method of playing the percussion instruments used by shamans and sub-shamans, meaning the drum and the flat bell that most often

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accompany a bro movement performance in mundane rites. In the Classical Tibetan lexicon, the substantive bro has the common meanings ‘dance’ and ‘oath’. Bro as movement performance probably has its ancient cultural roots in the concept of ‘taking an oath’ or bro ’bor, which literally means ‘to cast/throw a bro’. This is borne out in practice. Premodern, ritualised swearing of an ‘oath’ (mna’) often involved the parties ‘treading’ or ‘stamping’ (bro [b]rdung or bro ’khrabs) upon the bloody, inside skin of the animal which was sacrificed to seal the verbal agreement.3 Thus, the whole concept of bro is related to purposeful and often forceful foot placements in a ritualised context of social relations. When one considers the Srid-pa’i lha cult as ritual relations with lha who are reckoned as one’s ancestors in terms of Maurice Bloch’s concept of the ‘transcendental social’, 4 bro in the cult is exactly what this older meaning related to the ‘oath’ denotes. The ritual specificity of bro and the term’s careful reservation for certain types of movement-based performance is reflected in the deployment of ‘dance’ language throughout the region. Other non-bro forms of movement-based performance that outside observers invariably refer to as ‘dance’ are designated by written Tibetan ’cham, and its many spoken cham/chom dialect equivalents across the different languages in the region used by the cult’s participants. Groups of bro pa and bro mo generally perform bro movements in two basic formations. They can be arranged in a circle that can turn either clockwise or anticlockwise, or alternate in both directions, or they stand in a line. Often there are gendered lines or circles composed only of male or female performers, respectively. Whether or not both genders are represented, two groups of performers can also form in lines opposite and parallel to each other, or as a pair of circles one inside the other. In both cases, the ultimate orientation points for such lines and circles are always an altar for hosting the Srid-pa’i lha, or any site such as rocks associated with their origins, and the bon shaman himself, or all these simultaneously when they happen to spatially coincide in a rite or at a site. There are a variety of specific leg, arm and torso movements that add up to a bro. However, in either a line or circle

formation, the defining unit of a movement sequence is rather standard. It consists of a step forward with one foot while turning the torso such that the shoulder and arm on the same side of the body as the stepping foot face towards the orientation point. As the turn and step movements follow through to completion, the foot is placed deliberately or even stamped hard onto the ground, while the leading arm hangs out in front with the shoulder forward, at which point it is often lightly shaken – from shoulder down to hand – in a trembling manner. Variations upon this basic movement unit, sometimes involving shaking of buttocks or knees, or with the step performed more dramatically as a leap with a violent landing, are found in Srid-pa’i lha worship throughout the research region. These trembling movements during bro performance are highly interesting. They appear to be ‘relic movements’ of a type designed to create sound with bells and other metal items hanging from a performers costume or attached to their bodies. At Thempang (ch. 11) – and until the period of my field research, also at nearby Sangti – the bro performers, who are sub-shamans in contact with auxiliaries at both sites, had small, round bronze bells attached to their fingers, and these were rung by trembling their arms and hands while performing. This is typical of the way other shamans along the eastern Himalayas also move and thus ring the bells attached to their costumes. Exactly the same type of movements, are found among premodern Siberian shamans with bells on their costumes.5 The sound accompaniment to this basic bro movement sequence is chorus-like chanting by the bro pa or lha’i bu themselves. These chants form a refrain in between verses chanted by the bon shaman during the performance of a bro. Such chants have only one type of content: a bi-syllabic (rarely tri-syllabic), apparently non-semantic utterance, based upon a and ha syllables and their variants, such as a a, a ha, a ha’i, a ho’i, ha ha, ha ho, ho ho and so on. These are repeated in the manner of a sung chorus, sometimes together with the deity’s title, such as Aheylha (written A ha’i lha). A second, very widespread chant used heavily by the same performers across almost the entire research region from western Tawang to Kheng, and from Kurtö down to Bjoka, is the bi-syllabic wa + yo > wayo repeated over and again. The meaning of wayo is everywhere said to

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be ‘fuck’ in the sense of a crude colloquial expression,6 and also as representing the language of the lha.7 Several informants suggested that the wayo chant is an imitation of the roar – usually sounded in the forest – or the bugle – usually sounded on open ground – mating calls made by male deer during the rut.8 This certainly fits with the regional zoological facts. When the wayo chant is loudly and rapidly called by a human voice, the rising initial wá and then falling yò syllables, which glide into each other as wáyò, produce a close approximation of calls by stags of red deer varieties (Cervus spp.) whose range extends throughout the research region. Mimicking of animal mating calls may also apply to the various a ha, a ha’i and a ho’i chants as well, although this is less obvious.9 All these bi-syllabic chants are in fact a stimulus addressed to the lha as ancestral beings who periodically revitalise human life. They are often even uttered in forms of invocatory address, such as aheylha or lhawayo, and chanted at the point during rites when it is considered that life-powers of fertility and virility are being bestowed by the lha. This is why both bro movements and these accompanying chants may only be performed while the Srid-pa’i lha descend during the ritual period of a festival, and at no other times. Strong bro stepping and the shaking of an arm or other body parts always stand out as the ‘climactic’ moments during bro performances, and indeed, they are frequently remarked upon or specially anticipated and observed by participants during festivals. Such bro movements can be performed by the group of lha’i bu or bro pa outdoors in sacred groves and near the main altars but are especially pronounced within the domestic space of the ritual sponsors’ houses. The ritual context for this is the bon shaman’s visit inside each house to bestow tshe vitality on the household members and the dwelling itself, during which a bro is performed. I have often observed, and it is widely reported by informants, that in the context of tshe and g.yang bestowal inside the house bro stamping and jumping are carried out violently. The performers leap into the air and crash their feet down upon the floorboards of the central room or the balcony with as much force as they can generate, all the while chanting loudly. Sometimes the aim is explicitly stated by performers to be

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the cracking or breaking of the floorboards, an outcome that would be regarded as auspicious by the household members if it ever transpired. The ritual action of bro as ‘stamping’, ‘beating’ and ‘striking’ is another form of what is referred to in the ritual language as tshe phog or ‘tshe penetration’, of forcefully ensuring the physical embodiment of life powers for revitalisation discussed above. When forceful bro is performed upon the floorboards of the house, this ensures that the second receptacle of life next to the human body itself – the dwelling and by extension its social unit of inhabitants – is penetrated or imbued (phog) with virility and fertility, and generally revitalised in all ways.10 We can usefully contrast this whole ensemble of ritual movements, semantic referents and cultural meanings expressed in bro and phog actions related to revitalisation with another parallel ensemble. This is the use of ‘stamping’ and ‘penetrating’ rites intended to crush and destroy or dominate and tame in the fundamentally different cosmological contexts related to Tibetan-style Buddhism and the many high Himalayan cults of local environmental spirits intentionally syncretised or appropriated by lamas and their discourses and models. One can recall again here Guntram Hazod’s astute distinction between the rhetoric and rites of procreation and life-affirmation expressed in the old “invitation principle” on the one hand, and the “ritual discourses of barbarizing and civilizing” upon which organised Tibetan religions established their legitimacy on the other hand. The specific stamping steps of bro performance are also found in cognate shamanic tradition-complexes along the Himalayas, and explicitly related to the gaining of vitality from an upper ancestral abode by a shaman. Most notable in the ethnographic records are the máne syàba performances associated with che: syuba or ‘requesting life force’ rites (cf. tshe zhu ba or ‘requesting tshe’ rites in the cult) by the bombo shaman among the western Tamang, which are discussed briefly at the close of chapter 13. In summary, it is best to describe bro as a specific style of synchronised movement performance and chanting, as

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outlined above. It does not meaningfully qualify as ‘dance’ as that term is conventionally understood, and local categories and linguistic distinctions strongly testify to this.

8.2 Jumping In ritual texts and oral discourse describing Srid-pa’i lha festivals, another fundamental form of ritualised movement is defined as the preserve of groups of male lha’i bu or bro pa performers, and of both bon shamans and sub-shamans. The term for this is chong (CT mchong), the verb ‘to jump’ and ‘to leap’. This also commonly occurs in the specific form lhachong (CT lha mchong, and local spoken variations pla-/cha-/pchachong) or ‘lha jumping’. While ritualised ‘jumping’ or ‘leaping’ of different types occurs at many sites throughout the distribution of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, it is most strongly developed across the northern zone of distribution, including Kurtö, Khoma, Bumdeling and formerly Tawang. It is also in the Kurtöp and Dzala speaking communities from these same regions that the use of chong/ mchong within ritual vocabulary is very evident. In different communities around Kurtö, the ritual sites for festivals are explicitly termed chongsa (CT mchong sa) or ‘jumping grounds’, while certain days within festival schedules in Khoma are named lHa mchong ma or ‘The one for lha jumping’. An alternative term found in old rabs manuscripts from this same region, but which no longer occurs in colloquial speech, is rtsal bslang, literally to ‘cause to rise up agilely’ which can be glossed as ‘nimble leaping’ (cf. CT yang rtsal ‘physical prowess’). In context, this latter term describes a type of bro performed in units of nine, seven, six and five together with nawan (na ban) offerings of wild animals for the ancestral and lineage deities. Thus, it is describing Sridpa’i lha worship as we know it from many Himalayan sites still today, although the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative in which this last description occurs explicitly locates bro as ‘nimble leaping’ in the landscape of southern Tibet from where ancestors had migrated (see ch. 16). It seems that local meanings for chong/mchong define it both as a separate style of movement performance compared

with bro, and as a specific movement form that can be practiced within a bro. I observed three basic forms of ‘jumping’. The first involves jumping or leaping high enough into the air that the feet rise well above the level of the ground, and while performing bro in a circle together with other performers. This is practiced mainly by bon shamans themselves (pl. 100) and by groups of lha’i bu or bro pa. The second form is when groups of lha’i bu jump in various circle or line formations while being explicitly directed by the bon shaman, who acts as the choreographer responsible for their movements, and one who tries to ensure they perform with maximum precision and energy (pl. 101). Third, this form is also practiced by lha’i bu who run along set courses and then leap over particular rocks located at ritual sites where festivals are staged (pl. 102), in what often amounts to a contest with the aim of winning. These rocks always have mythical significance in relation to the local notions of origins of the Srid-pa’i lha and their worship, and are thus often termed lhagor or ‘lha rocks’ (also called plagor or pchagor in Khoma and Kurtö areas, respectively). This practice can also be engaged in by young male worshippers at any site where a lhagor is recognised.11 Another form of ritualised jumping, also referred to as chong or lhachong, is directly related to mimicking of animals and birds. This is primarily performed by sub-shamans and groups of lha’i bu, albeit under the active direction of a bon shaman. At many northern sites, mimicking of large male animals, such as stags, stallions or bulls, occurs in relation to fertility based upon the associative power of mimicking to create or bring into effect that which it copies, but also as positive demonstrations of procreation in public. In these instances, the lha’i bu prance and jump like animals while running – which is often also a race or contest, with a winner – or they mimic animals having sexual intercourse during which the ‘male’ jumps off the ground to mount the ‘female’ (pl. 123 a-e). In some cases, mimicking of wild animals of chase and their being hunted is closely related to aspirations of hunting success (see ch. 13). In still other cases, birds that jump can be mimicked by the lha’i bu, but for different reasons. At Zhamling and Tabi in Kurtö, bird mimicking involving pchachong or ‘Pcha [ancestral deity]

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î Plate 100. Bon shamans ‘jumping’ during a circular bro performance, Lawa, 2012.

í Plate 101. A bon shaman (r.) directing a group of jumping lha’i bu in a circular formation, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

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ê Plate 102. A group of lha’i bu jumping over a ‘lha rock’ during a Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

jumping’ has been well developed. As we saw in chapter 7, in one case this was related to mimicking diurnal rhythms, and directly related to a divination that was also a form of aspiration. During festivals at Zhamling, rites were staged at a site with a group of rocks called Yarleng Langchen Chongsa, literally meaning ‘Yar Field Jumping Place of the Langchen’. The langchen is the blue whistling thrush (Myophonus caeruleus), which typically can be seen jumping between rocks in streams, and its jumping behaviour was mimicked at Yarleng Langchen Chongsa. At that site, a series of large rocks protrude a metre or so above the soil and are spaced some three-four metres apart. The mythology of the site states that at the time of origins, the Pcha ancestral beings jumped between these rocks. As mentioned, the Srid-pa’i lha being sky beings commonly take the form of birds, or certain birds signal their presence among us. On a signal from the bon shaman at Zhamling, his assistant imitated the characteristic ‘tscheet’ call of the langchen, at which the male

performers had to jump from one rock to the next without touching the ground or loosing balance and end up successfully perched upon the next rock. Since a targeted jump from standstill across this distance is a challenging exercise, only the fittest and most agile young men have a chance to succeed. The point of this jumping was a public display of male vigour or virility, and its valorisation. The story was still being told among elderly persons at Zhamling when I undertook research there, of how a local man who was once an attendant (sgar pa) in the king’s bodyguard had managed the longest langchen jump between these rocks, some seventy years earlier. To emphasise the special status of mimicking, it is worth reiterating that all forms of bro and chong I recorded anywhere throughout the cult occur in the two basic formations of line and circle, while many movement performances also combine phases of both formations in various ways. For

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example, a straight line running race by lha’i bu who jump and prance terminates at a destination (e.g., an altar) they then circle around, or the synchronised side-stepping of a line of performers towards a site at which complex circular, and in some cases spiral movement sequences then unfold. Line and circle, and their combination and variation, are always the observed, regular formations. By comparison, it is only in mimicking animals and birds that scattered or random forms of movement are manifest. Regardless of the different local meanings associated with ritualised jumping or mimicking during Srid-pa’i lha rites, three features are always evident. The events always equate to an overt and public display of male virility. Such displays often cross over symbolically, by way of mimicking, with the virile prowess of wild and domestic male beasts during the rut, the annual period of sexual display and fighting that is the behavioural prelude to seasonal revitalisation via copulation and conception. In lhachong, this sense is only amplified by the fact that the males involved are often actively competing against each other to win, just as male animals do for mates and harems. There is certainly a ‘game’-like quality about many of these performances, not only their competitive dimensions, but also in the sense of mimicry being a form of imitation with a complex of potentially humorous or alluring and deceptive qualities. Secondly, it is always a group activity performed by the pick of the community’s able-bodied young men. Thus, it is also a collective display of vitality and potency projected to the community itself, and not least of all to women of childbearing age who are spectators. Finally, the bon shaman is not only himself a performer of lhachong, he is also its choreographer, actively instructing and urging young men on to display their virility in these ways. Like so many other Srid-pa’i lha rites, and in concert with bro, the ultimate goal of such movement performances is revitalisation. The bon shaman is the specialist director, who must ensure this goal is actualised within the men and women temporarily under his ritual charge. The explicit sexual language that pervades chants, narratives and jokes throughout the cult is the oral expression of what jumping and mimicking movement performance are directed towards. One can think of this ensemble of vocalisations and bodily movements as the

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public validation of procreation, as positive and open reference, free of prudery, to what must occur if human and animal life is to continue. Furthermore, it is not out of place here to note that everything just described above is evident in approximately the same form in other societies in which shamans attend to the cyclic revitalisation of their communities by way of calendric festivals with descent-based ceremonial groups staged at the end or beginning of each new annual cycle of growth and (re)production. Thus, we are dealing with a more widespread version of a shamanic tradition, and one that Roberte Hamayon has commented upon extensively for the case of Siberia.12 It is one in which the same types of movement performances used in the cult occur together with other shared aspects. These include closely analogous variations of the shaman’s single-sided drum, their divination techniques, a cosmological perspective admitting shaman journeys to the ‘upper world’ in the sky, the concept of a mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’, with this being often nurtured and protected in nest-like receptacles and whose most significant movements are upstream and downstream along the river course, and a sacred tree as the central axis for relations between people and beings who determine their lives and who are often ancestors. These, and a host of other shared aspects occur together and are distributed widely in different areas of north Asia and the extended eastern Himalayas. One would like to consider the Srid-pa’i lha cult as part of a continuum of shaman practice across all these regions. While ethnographic coherence can certainly be demonstrated, explaining why that is so across space and time remains highly challenging.

8.3 Consorts of the lHa In addition to their occasional presence during Srid-pa’i lha festivals as bro mo, female performers occupy another role sharing certain thematic overlaps with male lha’i bu and bro pa. Such performers are termed lha’i lcam (or pcha’i lcam and pla’i lcam in different dialects) in the Kurtöp, Dzala and Dakpa speaking zones, while zi is used in the Tshangla speaking Dirang district of the Mon-yul Corridor, and

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they are limited to these areas. The term lha’i lcam literally means ‘consort/wife of the lha’ with lcam an honorific, while zi is a somewhat ambivalent Tshangla kin term with a double meaning. Zi is ‘younger sister’ when used by a male Ego to refer to his junior, consanguinal female siblings, but it can also be used for ‘wife’.13 A parallel ambivalence is evident for female kin terms in Dakpa, and since that language underlies the liturgical texts and vocabulary of all Srid-pa’i lha rites in Dirang, the parallel with Tshangla may be historically connected. Ritual specialists as consorts or spouses of deities and spirits are not unheard of in this region of the eastern Himalayas.14 However, known cases conform to a ‘shamanic’ pattern found elsewhere in the Himalayas and Siberia. A male specialist gets ‘married’ to a female spirit or acts as the ‘wife’ of a male spirit, with the non-human ‘spouse’ usually a tutelary or auxiliary of some sort. In the Srid-pa’i lha cult, lha’i lcam and zi are exclusively female and only ‘married’ to male lha. As mentioned in part II, a partial mythical precedent for this relation is found in origin narratives depicting ’O-de Gung-rgyal and his ‘son’ Gu-se Lang-ling as fertilisers of human females. The defining feature of lha’i lcam and zi roles is that their incumbents must ideally be prepubescent girls, although adolescent and young women who remain unmarried and have never had sexual relations may also hold these positions until their status changes. This has a double significance within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Several informants explicitly stated that lha’i lcam and zi constitute a human ‘wife offering’ from each ceremonial unit within the worship community to the lha. As a human offering, this category of female person represents the purest type, being completely undefiled by reproductive processes but especially ‘birth pollution’ (skye grib), while we should note here that no special social or ritual value is associated with the biological fact of virginity itself in local societies. Exactly what this idea of ‘offering a wife’ means is most apparent in communities where clans still survive in the region with robust social significance. Thus, in villages around Dirang district, each zi must come from specific clans and agnatic units within those clans. 15 New zi candidates are chosen

by their own agnatic kin group, and never by any other method, and thus always represent a traditional bride in an arranged affinal alliance. By offering one of its ‘younger sisters’ (zi) as ‘wife’ (zi), each descent-based ceremonial unit then becomes a bride-giver in relation to the lha as bridetaker. These affinal relations between lha and humans are important as a model that is comparable to parallel cults of revitalisation elsewhere in the extended eastern Himalayas, and will be discussed again in chapter 17. Presumably – and this was not made explicit by any informant – the lha as bride-taker gains reciprocal obligations toward the descent-based ceremonial unit who gave a ‘wife’ to him. Given the ultimate concern of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the lha’s affinal prestations must concern revitalisation. Each lha’i lcam and zi girl represents the potential fecundity of her own community. It is not the case that their ‘marriage’ to the lha is thought to be a fertilising relationship, since lha’i lcam and zi lose their status as soon as they become fertile and sexually active. Rather, the relationship mainly represents one of protection by the lha, of the deity ‘husbanding’ – in the sense of safeguarding and preserving – a potentially fertile woman-to-be who will eventually procreate and revitalise her community in the most essential way as wife and mother. The bond between lha and their lha’i lcam and zi consorts is said to continue to aid the latter into adulthood. The ritual activities which lha’i lcam and zi undertake mostly concern mediating exchanges between their lha ‘husbands’ and the human worship community they represent. They frequently are the performers who must offer the first tshogs in a festival to the deity (pl. 103), or they must hold the rope attached to the main sacrificial animal at the time of offering. They also transfer tshe and g.yang life powers by placing empowered food substances using their own hands directly into the mouths or onto the faces and heads of festival participants. Thus, their ritual actions overlap directly with those of the bon shaman himself. This status is ref lected in the ritual restrictions lha’i lcam and zi are placed under as long as they hold their positions, and these are in fact even stronger than those a male bon shaman must observe. In Dirang communities, which preserved the best

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examples of these female roles at the time of my research, the zi maintained all the same dietary taboos as a bon shaman, but with additional prescriptions. At Dirang Busti and Yewang, to the prohibition on consuming garlic, onions, pork, eggs, chicken and goat, the meat of wild pig was also included, while prescribed beef and sheep mutton consumption was explicitly extended to include wild deer and fish meat. At Thempang, on top of all other dietary restrictions any form of dairy food is also proscribed for the zi. Additionally, zi may never cut their hair while incumbent in their roles. At the time of rites during a festival, zi must dress in the traditional, premodern woman’s garments and jewellery used within their community. Zi from some communities can only be incumbent when aged between about five to twelve years old, while at other sites those who start at around the same age must automatically step down at nineteen or twenty years of age. If there is the remotest suspicion

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é Plate 103. Prepubescent pla’i lcam girls wearing premodern, red woollen kushung or leushingka tunics16 during a Pla offering rite, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

that a zi has engaged in sexual relations of any kind, she is immediately disqualified and replaced. In some villages, it is believed that any incumbent zi who begins sexual relations will fall ill until she renounces her role, and that young men will not try to seduce a zi for fear of her lha ‘husband’s’ retribution.

R efl ections I

The spectrum of ethnographic descriptions and textual-historical tracings presented in parts II-III establish the Sridpa’i lha cult as one regional example among a whole series of what Höfer termed ‘shamanic tradition-complexes’. These shamanic cultural phenomena are found ranged right along the extended eastern Himalayas, and always maintained by specific highland populations who speak Tibeto-Burman languages. Certain items of ritual equipment – most importantly the hand-held frame drum with a membrane on only one side, less so headgear and costumes with features related to birds and wild animals, and metal bells – have been widely regarded as comparatively emblematic of the shaman as a specific category of ritual specialist within the Himalayan zone. The same can be said of a range of rite techniques and the outlook they depend upon. These include ‘soul f light’ journeys up into the sky world above, ritual manipulation of the mobile vitality principles or ‘souls’ of other beings, or hereditarily transmitted relationships with auxiliary spirits who are often regarded as shaman ancestors, the degree of ontological autonomy granted to elements such as fire and iron or to plants, along with many broader cosmological motifs that underpin such techniques and ideas, including the river course as a key ritual orientation along which mobile vitality flows in different modes of life and death, the equation of flying creatures with both the soul and the shaman, and so forth. Moreover, such shaman traditions are deeply articulated with the localised ecology in which they exist, typically drawing upon and recruiting the f lora and fauna to hand into their practices. Bon shamans, as principal ritual specialists within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, exhibit all these emblematic features shared by many other Himalayan shaman traditions. Yet, what we have begun to comparatively demonstrate in parts II-III is something far more specific.

Bon shamans appear to belong to a specific sub-set of Himalayan shamans. Their main specialisation is related to communal well-being, rather than just to that of individual patients or clients. It involves maintaining ritual relations with sky ancestors on behalf of well-defined social units, such as clans or lineages and agnatic units within them. In addition to working with some specific cosmological references, myth motifs, and rite techniques, this sub-set of Himalayan shamans also tend to share certain more unique items of material culture. These include the bovine horn used to address ancestral beings, the ritual ladle fashioned from gourd or other woody materials for lustration, use of certain trees and sheep’s wool as connections to deities and their life powers, hand-made paper manuscripts inscribed with chants and omens, and so on. The highest frequency and specificity of all such traits shared between the bon shamans of eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, and other shamans representing this sub-set within the extended eastern Himalayas, consistently lead us back to shamanic traditioncomplexes of the far eastern and south-eastern Tibetan Plateau margins. And they lead us even more especially to a series of adjacent regions where the highland populations speak Qiangic and Naic languages. This more focussed correlation is only reinforced by some of the festival documentations in part IV, but especially by the comparative analyses in part V. While certain characteristics of bon shamans and their ritual culture evince their relationship to cognate eastern Himalayan phenomena, other characteristics link them just as strongly to an old ‘bon’-identified milieu of rites, myths and ritual specialist types historically most evident in the southernmost regions of the central Tibetan Plateau. The

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content of various bon shaman traditions are already traceable in the dGa’-thang and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts composed some time around the eleventh century era in districts of southernmost Central Tibet approximately fifty kilometres north of the Srid-pa’i lha cult region. They continued to be recorded also in later texts from the same Tibetan Plateau region. As examples of this continuity, we can cite the three main ‘primordial initiators’ in the cult’s ritual antecedent narratives. In chapter 4, I intentionally spared no detail in my analysis of these primordial initiator figures, and did so to unambiguously establish their origins within cultural materials that were not products of the organised salvation religions Tibetan Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon. That task will be continued in chapters 14 and 15, along with my conclusions drawn from it. The three primordial initiators include the ideal ritual specialist Ya-ngal who overlaps with the mtshe mi, the specific type of non-religious gShen-rab Mi-bo figure, as well as flying messengers who are bats, small birds or insects and who act as auxiliaries – and therefore extensions – of the ritual specialist, his techniques and powers. The meaning of these characters is the same as that of primordial shamans who feature in myths elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas. The cult’s three primordial initiators explain origins of, offer precedents or models for, and thus in part legitimate the roles and practices of contemporary bon shamans, as well as rhetorically underpinning the perceived efficacy of their rites. Taken together, the bat, Ya-ngal and the non-religious gshen gShen-rab Mi-bo represent the primary functions of bon shamans in relation to their communities, which are, respectively, communication between cosmic realms, purity and accessibility of relations between humans and their ancestral deities, as well as the effective management of crises based upon primordial precedent. Some of the myth motifs explored for the analyses in parts II-III, such as the small flying messenger who is a trickster and type of culture hero, or the gourd as a life or soul container, are so wide-spread and ancient along the extended eastern Himalayas that they provide further strong testimony to the possibility of a “Himalayan comparative mythology” once proposed by Nicholas Allen.

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Other features that the Srid-pa’i lha cult shares with the old ‘bon’-identified milieu historically present in southernmost Central Tibet reveal even more unique connections that are not found among other Himalayan shaman traditions, nor, for that matter, in the region’s organised religions. An example of this is the multifaceted symbolism and use associated with the sacred plant Ephedra in the culture of bon shamans. Ritual practice involving Ephedra as a messenger towards auxiliary beings and deities, the plant’s direct application upon the bodies of people and animals, and its central symbolic importance defining ideal ritual specialists such as the mtshe mi and the gshen, are all only known from three sources. These are the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself, the dGa’-thang manuscripts found in neighbouring lHo-brag, and a few Old Tibetan ritual texts found at Dunhuang. There is even evidence suggesting that these forms of Ephedra use within the material and symbolic complex of Srid-pa’i lha worship may have much deeper connections with ancient Central Asian ritual cultures.1 By comparison, Tibetan Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon both feature limited ritual application of Ephedra, but via fundamentally different rite techniques and the ritual sub-systems and cosmologies they are associated with.2 The unique value of the occurrence of diverse ritual uses of Ephedra within the cult lies not only in its preservation of evidence about ancient cultural patterns and their transmission, but also especially because we can appreciate them embedded within a currently living tradition, rather than merely as literary traces in old manuscripts divorced from any context of social practice. In sum, the data reviewed so far has begun to reveal that the Srid-pa’i lha cult preserves a historical entanglement between two sets of cultural patterns ref lecting different zones of inf luence. One set is most evident in living shamanic tradition-complexes ranged along the extended eastern Himalayas. The other was once – yet is no longer – present upon the immediately adjacent southernmost areas of the central Tibetan Plateau the best part of a millennium ago. The chapters in part V are dedicated to a detailed accounting of the most likely origins of this older entanglement that lives on today in the form of the Srid-pa’i lha cult.

Pa rt I V

Festi va l Docu m entations

Festi va l Docu m entations

The first four chapters of this part offer detailed ethnographic records of four individual Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged at diverse locations. The final chapter 13 provides a composite of shorter accounts focussed upon the single theme of rites related to hunting and wild animals. Chapters 9 through 12 describe the festivals together with brief introductions to the worship communities who sponsor and perform in each event, as well as the bon shamans who are exclusively entrusted with the role of leading and conducting the primary ceremonies. During the period of my field research, several score of active Srid-pa’i lha festivals existed within the region. Although I attended and documented ten festivals between 2009 and 2014, I selected only four from specific research sites for presentation in the following four chapters. The factors determining my selection are outlined below. These four sites are Tsango and Changmadung in eastern Bhutan, as well as Thempang and Lhau in the central and northern Mon-yul Corridor (map 6). To understand aspects of the festivals at Tsango and Changmadung, I also make reference to two secondary documentations I recorded for festivals at Lawa and Nyimshong (map 6), respectively. One reason for selecting the festivals documented in chapters 9 through 11 was my ability to observe and record them all within the same twelve-month period. A second factor in selecting them took account of the Srid-pa’i lha cult being a diffuse phenomenon of widespread occurrence, and the value of demonstrating the range of possible synchronic variations in festival content and performance across the cult’s zone of geographical distribution. Chapter 12 is the exception here, since it provides a reconstruction of a recently defunct festival. The four chosen festivals

also reveal the diversity of worship communities who stage such events across the region. Moreover, they cover a range of recognisable ‘styles’ of Srid-pa’i lha festival. These styles represent consistent variations upon the same overall ritual pattern, while there are certain exceptions that need to be examined case by case. I identified two such styles and their variations in Bhutan, and two forms of a single style within the Mon-yul Corridor. In Bhutan, the first festival style I identified was found along the parallel north-eastern valleys of the Kholong Chu and Khoma Chu rivers, and in the Kuri Chu river valley from Kurtö downstream along the west bank as far as Metsho Gewog. Most festivals within this range feature a more extensive and sophisticated variety of rabs narratives and rites, including the Sel cycle introduced in chapter 4. One variation of this ‘north-eastern’ style in east Bhutan occurs mainly in the Bumthang valleys of Ura and Tang. In those areas, during recent times Srid-pa’i lha rites have been performed only for the vitality of large, bovine livestock, namely the yak (CT g.yag). Thus, the festivals there were most recently referred to as g.Yag-lha. However, in Ura and Tang the local manuscripts containing ritual texts for such festivals also feature most rites used to address goals for human beings found at other sites. Moreover, these rites are often as sophisticated as those used by communities in the Kholong Chu, Khoma Chu and Kurtö valleys where the first style of festival exists. Thus, a historical attrition of ritual practice evident in the Bumthang data has led to this variation of the style, while even the performance of more modest g.Yag-lha rites was in steep decline and all but extinct at the time of my field research. I briefly discuss reasons for this at the close of chapter 10 and in Reflections II.

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Festival Research Sites

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The second style was found downstream along the remainder of the west bank of the Kuri Chu, and westwards into the traditional Kheng Chikor region along the Jamkhar Chu river, as well as in some outlier communities at Changmadung above Doksum whose migrant ancestors originally moved there from Kheng Chikor. Most festivals within this sub-region I identify with a ‘Kharpu style’, which is a common name for many of them. They feature parallel sets of rites dedicated to both people and bovine livestock, although almost all of them lack the rites of the Sel cycle found in the first style. Still further west across Kheng Nangkor, as far as the east bank of the Mangde Chu river valley, and in the outlier communities around Bemji along

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é Map 6. Locations of main and secondary research sites for Srid-pa’i lha festivals.

the upper Mangde Chu, another simpler variety of festival based upon Kharpu themes is evident. One name some such festivals share is Rup (or Roop), although other localised names also occur. At the time of my field research, these westernmost festivals were often degraded, and they were found to incorporate more elements from other local cults when compared with both the primary Kharpu style further east and with almost all other forms of Srid-pa’i lha worship elsewhere. There are two likely factors explaining

Festi va l Docum entations

this. One is that the area represents a western limit of the cult’s distribution in terms of the historical settlement of its migrant transmitters (see ch. 16). There have also been more recent declines in hereditary transmissions of key ritual specialist roles in the same area due to a complex of destabilising social and environmental events triggering ruptures in cultural practices, as well as migrations and demographic transformation (see chs. 5, 10). Given these findings for eastern Bhutan, I selected festivals representing the first and second styles which were the most widespread still performed at the time of my fieldwork, rather than examples of their more strongly transformed derivatives. The Lhamoche festival at Tsango presented in chapter 9 provides an example of the first, sophisticated ‘north-eastern’ style of festival, while the Aheylha festival at Changmadung in chapter 10 demonstrates a form of the second or ‘Kharpu style’. Each festival presented in part IV was also selected to serve additional goals of data presentation and analysis. Thus, I intentionally choose Tsango’s Lhamoche because, at the time of my field research, it represented the most physically remote site I worked at, and the least transformed by modern development processes. The degree of integrity evident in local social and ritual life at Tsango was markedly stronger compared with all other communities sampled which were then already connected to road networks, electricity and communications infrastructure (e.g., mobile phone networks, television, etc.). Tsango was also of interest as a site in closest proximity to the southernmost Tibetan Plateau, a region that we know was a source of much older historical precedents for the Srid-pa’i lha cult. I consciously selected Changmadung’s Aheylha because it has a known history of migration and resettlement during which a Kharpu style festival was transferred to the present site along the lower Kholong Chu river valley from the distant Kheng Chikor region. Thus, it demonstrates the type of transformations that can occur in Srid-pa’i lha rites and worship communities due to migration and resettlement. To aid understanding of such changes, chapter 10 is supplemented with data from the festival at Nyimshong (map 6)

in the Kheng Chikor home region from where Changmadung’s migrating ancestors and their festival originated. The Mon-yul Corridor across the international border in India has two closely related variations of a third festival style. They are both based around a ‘ransom’ (glud) rite in which animals and other items are exchanged for the desired outcomes. One variation of this style merely lacks the formal use of real ransom animals, but with most other rites being generally the same. An example of this ‘ransom style’ is given in the documentation of Thempang’s Bapu Lhasöshe festival in chapter 11. At the time of my field research, I specifically chose Thempang because it had a fully intact clan organisation that retained social significance across different aspects of community life, while in other Mon-yul Corridor communities participating in the cult, the same type of clan organisation was evident but in decline and being rapidly transformed. The documentation of Pla festivals at Lhau in chapter 12 provides an example of the ‘ransom style’ variation without use of live ransom animals, but one that ceased to be performed in 1998. Because cessation of the Srid-pa’i lha cult at Lhau occurred within the recent living memory of its inhabitants, and since some earlier written eyewitness accounts of the Lhau Pla were uniquely available, I choose to reconstruct the defunct festival and investigate the complex of reasons behind its cessation. Lhau also offered an example of clan organisation that had become highly degraded and of attenuated significance during recent times. A final reason for choosing Lhau was that many indications revealed Lhau and its immediate environs to have been the historical, sub-regional source from where Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialists, their narratives and rites and the migrant ancestors of worship communities had spread southwards along the Mon-yul Corridor. To bring part IV to a close, chapter 13 offers a combination of smaller samples of data all focussed upon a related complex of rites associated with wild animals, talismans and mimicking present in Srid-pa’i lha festivals across the research region. At the time of my field research, such rites were only infrequently encountered in any intact state, whereas much evidence – such as eyewitness accounts and ritual texts in

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Additional Reseach Sites

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bon shaman manuscripts – suggested they were formerly a rather widespread and vigorous aspect of the cult. Because such rites usually concern hunting and use of dead wild animals, their modification and decline is strongly linked to pressures exerted by moralising Buddhist lamas back into the past, but has also resulted from recent, modern transformations in relations between society and nature. The data on festivals in this final chapter was collected at Tabi/ Zhamling, Ney, Lawa and Tangmachu in the Kurtö-Khoma region, at Da/Seb in Bumdeling, and at Sangti/Phudung and Rahung in the Dirang region (map 7). It demonstrates the range of, and goals for rites concerning wild animals that were, until recently, a far more vital component of the Srid-pa’i lha cult overall.

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gm

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é Map 7. Locations of additional research sites related to rites for hunting and wild animals.

The festivals described below are often highly complex events, ranging from two to seven full days and nights of dedicated ritual and social activity, and undertaken by entire communities or substantial factions within them. Moreover, each worship community is itself an intricate social entity. Ideally, each festival and community in the following four chapters might have been far better treated at greater length in separate monographic works, but here I cannot hope to provide any such level of detailed description. My ethnographic accounts are necessarily highly

Festi va l Docum entations

focussed and selective. I confine festival descriptions to the sequence of main rites and their content, together with an outline of local social history and organisation to the extent that these play direct roles in the Srid-pa’i lha cult at each location being discussed. Mundane social interactions manifest during each Srid-pa’i lha festival have been given very little attention in my accounts. The many instances of dispute, romance, affiliation, economic transaction, alliance maintenance and the like I recorded during festivals have only been mentioned when they aid explanation of a particularity of any festival at the time I observed it, or if they enhance understanding of participation in, or rejection of, the Srid-pa’i lha cult by individuals and groups. I very rarely treat individual motivations, and if so, then only for the same reasons as I mention mundane social interactions. Beyond participants’ expressions of normative representations that generally matched what is in written and oral ritual texts used in cult festivals, the individual motivations I sampled were highly diverse. Yet, they were also unremarkable in covering the same basic range expressed in relation to other forms of occasional communal rites I observed in the region, such as celebrating New Year, clan weddings, Buddhist empowerment ceremonies, and so forth.

These focussed and selective ethnographic accounts in part IV serve the initial stage of development of research into the Srid-pa’i lha cult. They aim to provide an accurate documentary baseline for the period 2009-2014 – the study of Lhau in chapter 12 being a reconstruction for preceding decades – and one that extends across most of the geographical range of the cult’s distribution. The level of documentation also offers sufficient detail to inform my analysis in part V, which situates the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its sponsor communities within larger contexts of space and time. A richer and socially more complex account of an individual festival and its participants thus remains a desideratum, as does a diachronic study of festival performances at a single site.

I have adopted an overall descriptive scheme for documentation of the four main festivals, such that treatment of the material is somewhat cognate across chapters 9 through 12, although the individual descriptions are far from being standardised. Variations in my accounts reflect the vicissitudes of data collection during fieldwork at each festival I observed, as much as they do asides and discussions added in at points I have felt this to be germane to illustrating my overall aims for the book. I should note that it was possible to provide a much richer background context for the two main study sites in the Mon-yul Corridor than it has been for the parallel sites in eastern Bhutan. This merely reflects the large amount of publically available documentation on the Mon-yul Corridor generated by the presence of the three successive states – premodern Tibetan, British colonial and independent Indian – that encompassed and administered that sub-region since the seventeenth century. Accessible parallel data for eastern Bhutan remained comparatively scarce at the time of my research.

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9.

Th e Lh a moch e Festi va l of Tsa ngo

The seven-day Lhamoche or Khablha festival staged at the site of Tsango, 1 in the upper Khoma Chu valley, was one of the more elaborate and carefully maintained events of Srid-pa’i lha worship I encountered anywhere during my field research. In many respects, Tsango was also the most remote site at which I conducted fieldwork. The period of my visits to the upper Khoma valley from 2011-2014 was one during which most villages throughout north-east Bhutan already had access roads pushed through to them. This recent development was part of the state’s efforts to stem rural out-migration by networking communities with mainstream infrastructure, services and markets. Yet, the area of Tsango was still a full day’s walk along mountain trails upstream of the nearest road head. By mid-2014, electricity and mobile phone reception first reached the upper Khoma valley settlements, although there were no medical or educational facilities. While remote in terms of modern infrastructure, the upper Khoma valley is not a completely out-of-the-way place. It serves as a transit route along which pilgrims and meditators travel during the post-monsoon season to visit Buddhist sacred places at Senge Dzong in the high catchment area of the valley system, which lies directly along the border with lHo-brag and Gru-shul in Tibet. At other times of the year, border security patrols and forest rangers also come and go along the valley when moving between the road head and their advance bases or areas of jurisdiction to the north.

origin narratives of clans who migrated southwards from the Tibetan Plateau, and who settled in what is now the far north-east corner of Bhutan and the Tawang region further eastwards in India. An example of one such narrative from the Khoma valley is translated and analysed in chapter 16. At the time of my research, Tsango was one of four active communities of Srid-pa’i lha worship distributed along the length of the Khoma Chu valley.2 The others included the tiny hamlet of Laber downstream from Tsango on the true left (i.e., facing downstream) bank of the Khoma Chu river, the fivefold Khoma collective comprising Khoma village on the true right bank of the river and the small settlements of Babdung, Lingdung, Bleiting and Bepa all on the true left bank, and Lawa village on the true right bank high above its confluence with the Kuri Chu. A fifth site, the ruined village of Shekhar high on the true left bank of the Khoma Chu, is reported to have been a centre of Srid-pa’i lha worship in the lower Khoma valley during the past. It is almost certain that the ritual specialist lineage and worship community of the fivefold Khoma collective originated from old Shekhar.3 All the communities along the Khoma valley mentioned above are speakers of the Dzala language. 4 Dialects of Dzala are found spoken from the confluence of the Khoma Chu and Kuri Chu rivers in the west, all the way east across to the Bumdeling and Tashiyangtse areas of the upper Kholong Chu valley.

According to oral traditions reported in active worship communities throughout Kurtö and Khoma, the site of Tsango itself is regarded as an origin or arrival point for the Srid-pa’i lha cult in the region. A written basis for this current belief is recorded in local manuscripts containing the

9.1 Community, History and Environs The community who participated in the Lhamoche festival at Tsango during January 2012, mostly dwell in the two permanent riverside settlements of Khomakang 5 and

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î Plate 104. Overgrown house ruins at the site of old Tsango settlement, Khoma valley, 2012.

Dingchung (also ‘Dengchung’)6 along the upper course of the main Khoma Chu river. They also maintain several pastoral areas upon surrounding hillsides, each with a collection of herders’ huts-cum-cattle sheds (brang) constructed from woven bamboo mats and timber. These brang serve as seasonal dwellings for a significant part of the population. One such seasonal pastoral area, that named Tsango, is the invariable site for staging the Lhamoche festival. In 2012, the local worship community for the Tsango Lhamoche consisted of around 200 persons in total.7 This included a handful of participant from the Bumdeling area of the upper Kholong Chu valley, whose ancestors had migrated there from Tsango. While residents of the hamlet of Laber also share the ritual services of the Tsango community’s Srid-pa’i lha specialist, the hereditary lhami, they stage their own separate and smaller festival at Laber itself. Old Tsango, the regular site for celebration of the Lhamoche festival, is located some 400 metres higher than the present village of Khomakang, and opposite it on the true left (i.e.,

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east) side of the Khoma valley. From Khomakang or Dingchung, Tsango must be reached by crossing the Khoma Chu river via a seasonal bridge that is swept away each year during the spring thaw and following monsoon, but then annually rebuilt around November during the post-monsoon season. Nearby the site of this temporary bridge there is always another subtle but permanent bridge which crosses the river. This is the so-called lha zam or ‘lha’s bridge’, a length of white cord, which spans the Khoma Chu river and is secured to stout trees upon either bank.8 It is believed that the Srid-pa’i lha Gurzhe crosses here when he moves up or down the valley on visits to other sites in lower Khoma and in neighbouring Kurtö, where well-informed people also know about the lha zam. Old Tsango was the site of a once substantial village of the same name, and the ruins of dozens of large, well-built stone houses can be seen there, now long abandoned and reclaimed by the forest (pl. 104). There is much we can say about the origins of communities such as Tsango along the Khoma Chu river valley. A

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

key origin and migration narrative that circulates among Srid-pa’i lha worship communities in the area will be examined in detail in chapter 16. Here I will limit my remarks to sites of settlement, and further below to the descent groups involved. Old Tsango is one of a series of ruined village sites located upon higher hill slopes along the true left (east) side of the Khoma Chu valley.9 These ruined sites demonstrate a very different historical settlement pattern in the valley than in recent times. The older settlements were more closely linked with higher, all-weather routes which once connected the Bumdeling region of the upper Kholong Chu, via the sPang La and Sib-sib La passes above Tsango and Laber respectively, with the downstream Khoma villages and the Kuri Chu valley to the west. These ruined village sites like Tsango generally match other settlements throughout the region in which strongly established and demonstrably older worship communities of the Srid-pa’i lha cult are still found. Almost all of them are located upon high ridges and steep hillsides, or up remote side valleys away from main river courses. This is the case, for example, at Lawa, and with four of the five villages in the Khoma collective, as well as for Zhamling, Shawa, and Ney in adjacent Kurtö. This settlement pattern and its strong correlation with Srid-pa’i lha worship communities is testimony to an earlier society in this north-eastern corner of Bhutan about which nobody has commented to date. The settlement locations themselves all indicate a population for whom defensive concerns were paramount, and one oriented primarily towards highland herding, hunting and foraging rather than the terraced grain cultivation upon lower slopes and along valley floors we find associated with most active settlements today. Some promising indications as to the identity and characteristics of this earlier non-agrarian highland population can be gained from the study of Srid-pa’i lha worship at Tsango. These indications support hypotheses concerning the earlier migration and settlement of Shar Dung peoples from neighbouring lHo-brag into the upper Kholong Chu and Khoma Chu valleys, hypotheses I will explore more fully in chapters 16 and 18. The site of old Tsango is now used as a seasonal pasture area. Some twenty herders’ huts of bamboo were located there upon meadows in a large clearing surrounded by thick forest

during the period of my field research. Judging by the age of trees growing atop many of the large stone house walls still standing in the forest around old Tsango, and according to reports by elderly persons, the village was most likely abandoned by its occupants more than a century ago. Popular oral accounts purporting to explain the abandonment of old Tsango cite the cause as being either the local poisoning cult or breaches of traditional food taboos that angered deities in the area. More likely, the abandonment is related to a complex of known premodern factors attested throughout the region. They include depopulation due to epidemic diseases, 10 limited cultivation possibilities for expanding populations,11 and voluntary out-migration to avoid oppressive taxation.12 Strong earthquakes are also common in the region, and possible natural disasters together with shifts in historical trade patterns and routes might also figure as likely factors behind old Tsango’s abandonment. Arable land is scare throughout the whole upper Khoma valley. On small river terraces, Khomakang and Dingchung practice limited subsistence agriculture based upon very modest crops of finger millet, foxtail millet, maize, potatoes, Amaranth and vegetables. Also grown is nem (Perilla frutescens var. frutescens) a species from the mint family (Labatiae) for oil making and use in certain types of local chutney. Cultivation is supplemented by animal husbandry and domestic dairy production. Wild foraging for a range of edible vegetable species is also seasonally practiced, as is occasional hunting of game and wildfowl. Any rice consumed has had to be to be traded in from downstream villages. Until recently, the community also made cane baskets that they traded as an income supplement. Most households were able to generate regular cash income from three activities at the time of my field research. Households with able-bodied males often kept horses and rented them as pack animals for travellers moving up and down valley. Such travellers were also often given overnight shelter and food for which they paid a fee. Households with active women and girls skilled in weaving produced and sold the women’s silk garment now nationally and popularly known as kishitara in Bhutan. Some households were also able to collect a certain amount of the valuable yartsa gunbu ‘catepillar fungus’ (Cordeceps spp.) in highland areas for sale to outside parties. While

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some modern out-migration, which was perhaps ten percent of the population by 2013, had occurred from the area, it was significantly lower than in many other rural communities of eastern Bhutan. At the time of research, a majority of the inhabitants resided in their villages and were still primarily engaged in the economy described above. The striking exception was that most children and youths were absent due to attendance at downstream schools and colleges. Many of my elderly informants along the Khoma valley lucidly recalled and related the conditions of their premodern lives prior to the first social reforms during the 1950s. While most of the subsistence activities described above are continuations from the past, all informants were unanimous about the severe burden that corvée labour and fulfilment of other forms of taxation placed upon themselves and their communities.13 The principal form of corvée imposed upon Tsango residents was porterage of trade goods to serve elite interests. They carried goods to and from lHo-brag in Tibet, via the high Geng La (4937 metres) and Bod La (4968 metres) passes14 at Senge Dzong, as part of the business activities of government officers and certain collateral families of the Wangchuk Dynasty based within the region.

9.2 Local Social Ordering When I was about to make my first research visit to the upper Khoma valley settlements, I was repeatedly told by people living downstream that the Tsango community preferred to keep to themselves, were somewhat secretive, and had their own social norms and cultural ways. While I was in fact warmly welcomed by the community, this characterisation by downstream communities, which otherwise might be a typical cliché about one’s more remote neighbours, was in fact borne out by certain features of Tsango social organisation, as well as by use of a cryptolect or secret ‘code language’ in the upper valley. According to all the evidence, old Tsango settlement consisted of three discrete areas termed mkhar arrayed across the hillside at the present site. The texts name these settlements as sTan-mang, [b]Se-mkhar and rGyal-phu. These

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three sub-settlements are still colloquially called Tanmangding, Sekharding and Gephuding, with the ‘ding’ (CT lding) suffix typically used to indicate small pastoral settlements in southern Tibet and in the Dzala and Dakpa speaking zones. Although these three settlements no longer exist following the dissolution of old Tsango, they are still invoked during the Lhamoche festival in various ways. Each settlement is represented by its own palo device, while each has its own lha shing tree, implying that during the past each settlement area had its own Srid-pa’i lha rites and ritual specialists which became amalgamated over time. The three sTan-mang, [b]Se-mkhar and rGyal-phu identities are also highly relevant in the context of regional clan history. The sub-settlement name [b]Se-mkhar is a known variant of the historical Tibetan place name bSe-ba-mkhar, recorded in one of the gDung origin narratives in the Rgyal rigs.15 That bSe-ba-mkhar was a pastoral area in the northern part of Mon mTsho-sna, the Tibetan Plateau district that is immediately adjacent to the north-east corner of Bhutan and north of Tawang. This same area is a localised centre of ‘Se’ toponyms. It was highly likely a departure point or a migration transit site for the [b]Se or [b]Se-ru clan whose origin narrative describes their passing through that area before units of the clan became settled across the region between the Khoma Chu and Tawang Chu valleys, as described in chapter 16. The sTan-mang and rGyal-phu names are both cited as clan ancestors at Thempang, a prominent Srid-pa’i lha worship community in the central Mon-yul Corridor described in chapter 11. The current populations of Khomakang and Dingchung are the migrant descendants of former inhabitants of the Tanmangding, Sekharding and Gepading sub-settlements that constituted old Tsango prior to its abandonment. Some remnants of this original Tsango population also migrated eastwards, crossing the sPang La pass into the upper Kholong Chu valley at Bumdeling. They resettled there mainly in the village of Longkhar and its offshoot Cheng. At the time of my field research, these four contemporary villages of former Tsango migrants – Khomakang, Dingchung, Longkhar and a few households from Cheng – still formed a social and ritual unit with hereditary obligations based upon their origins at old Tsango. Certain families from the

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Bumdeling communities sent members to participate in every Lhamoche staged at Tsango, in order to keep fulfilling their hereditary ritual obligations. Five such persons from Bumdeling attended the festival I recorded during 2012. Old Tsango was an endogamous community, and this preference has been strongly maintained by its descendants. The migrants who went to Bumdeling have continued the practice of arranged marriages with the other former Tsango families who remained in the Khoma Chu valley. At the time of my research, there was only a single marriage contracted between a Tsango person and a spouse from any settlement further downstream along the Khoma Chu river, let alone anyone from further afield. Additionally, the premodern, normative preference for an arranged marriage was for a male ego to wed his matrilineal cross-cousin. This latter pattern is widespread throughout the research region. At Tsango, as elsewhere, the recent advent of ‘love marriage’ is already actively undermining it. In addition to the premodern preferences just cited, uxorilocal marriage and daughter inheritance are highly prevalent in the communities descended from old Tsango. Women are most frequently the heads of households and owners of land, house and livestock, and this role is transmitted intergenerationally via inheritance to the eldest daughter or, when there is more than one female sibling, to the daughter deemed most capable by parents of successfully continuing the household. Among farming communities speaking East Bodish languages throughout the region – and among similar groups elsewhere in Bhutan – these practices are also widespread, albeit now rather marginal in the Mon-yul Corridor. They are often confusingly referred to in the literature as being ‘matrilineal’. Yet, for the communities derived from old Tsango, actual reckoning of descent and social identity is defined by agnatic ‘bone’ lineages. The three related old Tsango migrant settlements of Khomakang, Dingchung and Longkhar, who, together with some Cheng households, form a sub-regional unit practising preferential endogamy, share a system of ‘clan-like’ corporate descent reckoning that nowadays regulates both affinal ties and ritual obligations. In this respect, socially they resemble the long-established Srid-pa’i lha worshipping

settlements in the Mon-yul Corridor more than any other communities I know of in Bhutan today.16 Tsango descent groups are nowadays colloquially termed miju (written mi [b]rgyud) which is best translated in this context as ‘descent lineage’, and membership of which is defined by sharing common ‘bone’, 17 yet in local documents the term rus is often applied to the named entities in question. Each named miju lineage is exogamous and socially ranked. The three most common lineages are the Shartsho, Sho and Nami, who are ranked respectively in descending order of status. The traditional adage about marriage between them is that, ‘Nami and Sho can’t marry. Nami and Shartsho can’t marry. Sho and Shartsho can marry.’ Beyond this, lowest ranked Nami have chances for local marriages since there are three additional lineages, the Namsa, Drong and Debjön. Among them, Namsa has the highest rank and is said to be closely related to Shartsho, and thus cannot marry Nami, while the other two can. Relatively little is known about the origins and histories of all these Tsango lineages today. The exceptions are the two highest ranked amongst them, Shartsho and Namsa, whose names are those of historically and ethnographically attested clans elsewhere in the wider region. As noted in the documentation of Pla festivals at Lhau (ch. 12), Shartsho was one of the three communities (tsho) of the old La-’og Yul-gsum zone of Tawang. The Shar or Shar-mo clan is listed in redactions of the late seventeenth century Rgyal rigs and other old documents, and it was the founding clan of Shartsho settlement in Tawang. The original name was, most likely, Shar, literally ‘East[eners]’, but in Tawang it often carries the unusual –mo suffix which is appended to a particular stratum of Mon-yul Corridor clan names (see Appendices 7 and 8). 18 Shar-mo is often pronounced ‘Shermu’ in contemporary Dakpa. Until recent modern transformations in the social life of the region took effect, the Shar or Shar-mo were the highest ranked clan in Tawang, just as the Shartsho lineage still is among the communities descended from old Tsango. The Namsa (written gNam-sa) were already named and referred to as a bone-sharing ‘clan’ (rus) in the Rgyal rigs and other older documents, and they are still colloquially

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designated a clan wherever their members exist in other parts of the region. Namsa as a clan name is unknown on the Tibetan Plateau. However, they do have a known origin myth directly related to the narrative of the introduction of Srid-pa’i lha worship into north-eastern Bhutan, and this together with the clan’s origins are considered in more detail in chapter 16. Both the Sho19 and Nami lineages of Tsango also appear to be related to established clans found further east in the Tawang district. Among all the lineages of the Tsango community and its migratory outposts to the east, the Nami are potentially the most interesting from the point of view of local social history and the oldest stratum of founder groups. I will take up discussion of this point in relation to the Nami in chapters 16 and 18. It is significant that all the lineages present within the Tsango-descended communities have specific ritual obligations and identities related to Srid-pa’i lha worship. The roles of both the main ritual specialist or lhami (CT lha mi), and one of his chief ritual assistants termed tsangmi (CT gtsang mi), are hereditary obligations of the low status Nami lineage. The Namsa, Drong and Debjön lineages each have a specific, hereditary ritual role in the Lhamoche festival, and the male incumbents for these roles are named after their lineages (see below). These names themselves might well have some earlier basis in the identities of Tibetan and eastern Himalayan ritual specialists. As pointed out above in chapter 5, spoken drong probably reflects written Classical Tibetan sgrung ‘bard’ in the rabs manuscripts. Namsa written gnam sa is certainly the title of an ancient ritual specialist from the extended eastern Himalayas, as discussed in chapter 16. The Debjön lineage is now only present at Longkhar due to migration to the east by descendants of the old Tsango settlement, and its incumbent debjön specialist must travel from Bumdeling to Tsango for each Lhamoche. Additionally, the series of ritual grounds (dongthan) at which Lhamoche is staged around the ruins of old Tsango are closely associated with these lineage identities. One of the main open-air staging grounds in named Namsalang or ‘Namsa’s field’, while a series of three water sources used at Tsango for ritual ablutions during Lhamoche are related

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respectively to the Shartsho, Sho and Nami lineages in local folklore. The name of the only water source still actively maintained with a wooden spout for water collection and drinking during Lhamoche is called Shotakang, literally the ‘watering point of the Sho’. A grove in the forest above the ruins of old Tsango and the site used during a nocturnal expulsion rite in Lhamoche festivals is named Nalangong or ‘upper field of the Na[mi]’. Finally, it is said that when viewed from Tsango during Lhamoche, the three peaks of the sNyong La mountain to the east are identified with the Shartsho (south peak), Nami (north peak) and the Sho (middle peak) lineages, respectively. It is noteworthy that, parallel with the above lineage or clan identities being found in both the Dzala speaking region of north-east Bhutan and in Dakpa speaking Tawang, the four main Srid-pa’i lha ancestors worshipped at Tsango all also occur in Tawang.

9.3 Cultural Practices and Patterns In the Khoma Chu valley, as is typical for most communities throughout the entire region, the ritual cosmos informing local thought and action is populated by a wide range of non-human beings, and their different cults exist side by side and sometimes overlap. The practice of Sridpa’i lha worship in Khoma cannot be fully understood apart from local deity cults and village Buddhism. Most established settlements in Khoma valley observe the worship of place deities of the btsan type, and often (but not always) these can be orally classified as the skyes lha or ‘natal deities’ of locally born inhabitants. In ritual texts, the same deities can also be classed as phu which can only be understood throughout the whole region as meaning ‘highland’ or ‘upland’ deity. The terrestrial abodes of the phu are always upland locations in valley headwaters (phu) or places from where any river or stream f lows down to lowlands (mda’), and can include ridges, passes, hilltops and mountains. There is much evidence that most – if not all – of these types of deities regularly received blood sacrifice of domestic

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animals throughout the Khoma valley. Animal sacrifice has mostly been stopped or modified nowadays due to pressure exerted by missionary Buddhist lamas from beyond the region, although this is a relatively recent phenomenon beginning during the twentieth century. There was annual sacrifice of an ox to the Khoma gnas po deity dwelling at the bridgehead next to Khoma village. At Lawa, the territorial deity Wang La also received an ox sacrifice about a century ago, apparently until a Buddhist lama convinced the village to cease doing so. At Tsango, two btsan deities, sNyong La lHa-btsan dKar-po and dBang-’dus rDo-rje Chang-chen, both receive sheep sacrifices, one of which will be described in the ethnography of Lhamoche to follow. Another different type of deity recognised throughout the Khoma valley is Zo-ra Ra-skyes, the ‘treasure lord’ (gter bdag) of the sacred alpine basin of Seng-ge rDzong Ne-ring located at the northernmost catchment area of the Khoma Chu, immediately adjacent to Tibet. The cult of this deity and the Buddhist status of Seng-ge rDzong Ne-ring are attestably old in the region, representing a mixture of local interests and earlier Tibetan activities in the area, especially those led by rNying-ma-pa lamas. 20 The presence of gter bdag Zo-ra Ra-skyes and a series of sensitive btsan place deities is used by the Tsango community to explain to itself and to outsiders the existence of a variety of local cultural practices. In stark contrast to downstream villages, few dogs and cats and no domestic pigs are kept in the villages of the upper Khoma Chu. Inhabitants explained that the behaviours of such animals offend these ‘sensitive’ deities. Similarly, it is said there are no fish in the local river for the same reason. Fish and domestic pork, both of which are widely consumed elsewhere, are traditionally proscribed meats within the community. The practice of disposing of corpses in the local river is also explained in the same way, since crematory smoke would be objectionable to these deities. But the water exposure disposal of corpses is in fact a well-attested regional cultural pattern that closely maps onto the entire Dzala and Dakpa speaking zone and the southern historical limits of its spread. The Khoma valley marks the westerly limit of the water exposure method within the region, just as it marks the western limit of the Dzala-Dakpa linguistic complex.

All Khoma communities practice village Buddhism and are followers of the rNying-ma-pa school of Tibetan-style Buddhism. Most of the population throughout the region of north-eastern Bhutan are followers of that sect. As with almost any area of human use in this part of the Himalayas, the Khoma Chu valley landscape is culturally endowed with the predictable sacred natural sites (gnas) associated with the legendary travels and deeds of Padmasambhava. This saint is the central figure in the historiographical narratives maintained by the rNying-ma-pa sect. The area also has a particularly rich set of sites, rituals and social groups related to the early and famous Tibetan ‘treasure discoverer’ (gter ston) lamas from the rNying-ma-pa sect, namely Gu-ru Chos-dbang and Ratna Gling-pa (1403-1479). Five downstream villages in the Khoma area claim to be the seats of the ‘religious and ancestral lineages’ (chos rgyud gdung rgyud) of these treasure discoverers. Thus, their inhabitants and specific sngags tshang households among them act as sponsors for rituals and religious foundations related to these early lamas.21 While sharing the same general social, cultural and linguistic profile as all other settlements in the valley, these five villages who host the local cult of these treasure discoverers have no involvement in the Srid-pa’i lha cult whatsoever. Regardless of what is no doubt an old and firm division on this single point, there is much evidence revealing a deep and on-going positive coexistence between these strongly Buddhist-identified villages and their Srid-pa’i lha worshipping neighbours in Khoma. Lamas or gomchen from the former communities regularly serve various ritual needs of the later, including performing funeral services, astrological readings, and the ‘annual offerings’ (lo mchod) each winter for maintaining the positive g.yang balance within households and blessing and protection for their members.

9.4 The Lhamoche Festival of 2011-12 Names for the Festival The Tsango festival has two names. On the face of it, the contemporary name Lhamoche appears to be a recently coined and learned, formal name since it never appears in

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any of the ritual texts at Tsango. However, it represents a contracted and conventionalised derivative of the written name lHa-ka’o-che Mo-ka’o-che occurring in a clan origin narrative entitled Lha’i gsung rabs from the same area, and that is presented in detail in chapter 16. The manuscript containing this text was discovered in the Khoma Chu valley, and when read in context the name lHa-ka’o-che Moka’o-che (also lHa-ka’o-che alone) refers to a Srid-pa’i lha festival staged somewhere in the Dzala speaking region. In local understanding, the element ka’o in this name is related to the special imperative ritual invocation made to the Srid-pa’i lha, with spoken forms ko ke! or kho ke!, meaning ‘come!’ The linguistic status of this rare ko/kho verb (written kho/kho’o/kho’u) is discussed in chapter 17. Thus, lHaka’o-che Mo-ka’o-che appears to have meant something like ‘Great [Male] lHa Come! Great Female [lHa] Come!’, later contracted to lHa-mo-che that is spoken Lhamoche. The meaning of the full written name coincides precisely with what takes place in ritual terms at a Lhamoche festival: male and female lha are invoked in an elaborate ritual manner using the imperative invocation ko ke! or kho ke! The full name is also cognate with names for other Srid-pa’i lha festivals in the region that include an invocation, such as Aheylha at Changmadung. Khablha is the colloquial name used to refer to Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals within communities along the Khoma valley, while written Khab-lha and Khab-bla with the same meaning also occur in rabs manuscripts along the valley and at Bumdeling within the adjacent Kholong Chu valley. Thus, it is a name used by all Dzala speakers. The Khablha name is also encoded into old place names around the region. The written name Khab-lha-lang (also Khab-blaglang) in rabs manuscripts, and Khablhaleng in colloquial speech, literally means ‘Khab-lha Field’ to designate a ritual site for staging festivals. There is also a site with the old place name Khablhamet located above the settlements of Lugchu and Pangkhar and below the Reb La pass in the Khoma Chu catchment. That name literally means ‘Without the Khablha’. It refers to an oral story recorded in chapter 3 describing how the Srid-pa’i lha deity Gurzhe could not be worshipped in that area during the past and thus the community was without the Khab-lha.

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While lha/bla in Khab-lha and Khab-bla is taken to refer to the Srid-pa’i lha themselves, the meaning of khab is no longer certain for contemporary informants, who understand it as an antiquated proper name element. The Tibetan word khab has two related meanings that may both be appropriate for considering an etymology of Khab-lha. Khab can conventionally mean a type of shelter or dwelling as in ‘house’ and ‘palace’, and this meaning appears related to a word family yielding ‘to cover, to spread over’, ‘to hide, to conceal’, ‘to protect’, ‘to support, to assist, to aid’, ‘to fill, to penetrate, to embrace’, and so on.22 As will become obvious from the ethnography of rites and concepts featuring in Lhamoche/Khablha to follow, the lha being worshipped certainly relate to or have most of these functions associated with khab within this wider, possible semantic frame. Moreover, by an extension of the notion of ‘house’ at an earlier stage during the development of Tibetan language, the word khab gained the metaphorical meaning ‘bride’ and ‘wife’, as in ‘to take a wife/to marry’ (e.g., khab tu bzhes, etc., cf. khyim in relation to marriage),23 while it sometimes occurs as a circumlocution for sexual relations with a female spouse. These latter meanings of khab are highly relevant due to the range of rites and symbols that occur in a Lhamoche or Khablha festival, many of which directly articulate procreation and women, even to the point at which progenitor lha temporarily become ‘husbands’ – meaning a sexual partner to father a child – of married women participants. At other neighbouring Khoma Chu valley sites, and further afield, young girls are dedicated as consorts for the lha for the purpose of ritually establishing affinal relations (and thus mutual obligations) with the sky realm, and this is certainly covered by the term khab. This specific practice has now ceased at Tsango itself. A final consideration is that khab originally from the Dzala speaking zone represents an older basis for some current local dialect forms of festival names among Chocha-ngacha and Khengkha speakers further south. It is certain that the culture of Srid-pa’i lha festivals was once spread historically from north to south along the region’s main river valleys by way of migration and certain forms of marriage (see ch. 16). These dialect forms include khat and khad, and might reflect spoken variations of khab, or phrases and compounds

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related to it, that developed over time and space. It should also be considered whether all these forms relate to the name Kharpu 24 also often used by Chocha-ngacha and Khengkha speakers further south for the style of cult festivals staged along the mid- to lower Kuri Chu valley and in the Kheng region (see ch. 10).

Srid-pa’i lha at Tsango As already noted in chapter 3, a unique characteristic of all Srid-pa’i lha worship in the adjacent Khoma and Kurtö valleys of north-east Bhutan is the occurrence of groups of deities comprised of male and female siblings. My research data revealed these sites as the only ones at which female deities were the principal object of worship. At Tsango, the ‘family’ of Srid-pa’i lha siblings includes achi or ‘elder brother’ Namdorzhe (written gNam-’dor-zhe or gNam’dir-zhe), another ‘brother’ named Phongphongzhe (written Phong-phong-zhe), their zhogpo or ‘younger brother’ Gurzhe (most commonly written Gu-zhe or Gur-zhe in local manuscripts, but also sometimes as Gu-ru-zhe and gNam-lha’i Gu-ru-zhe). The fourth sibling is abu ‘elder sister’ Ribumo (Ri-bu-mo), who is a deity related to the earth and wild animals (see below), and as such clearly represents a terrestrial female opposite of sorts to her sky ‘brothers’. This male sky and female earth distinction between major Srid-pa’i lha, which is preserved well at Tsango and less so at Thempang, is of comparative interest and I will consider it again in chapter 17. Literate informants hold that all these beings are the offspring of ’O-de Gung-rgyal. This claim is ethnographically universal throughout the region for Gurzhe, as well as mythically attested for Gu-se Lang-ling in the old gDung origin myths preserved in the late seventeenth century Rgyal rigs text. As at many sites throughout the region, we find the identities of Gurzhe and ’O-de Gung-rgyal are blurred in local discourse, and their names are often exchanged in discussions. These two lha, together with the ‘brothers’ Namdorzhe and Phongphongzhe,25 were all worshipped in Pla festivals in the Tawang district to the east, paralleling the spread of clan identities between these sub-regions (see ch. 16).

Gurzhe is Tsango’s chief Srid-pa’i lha deity, and he takes centre stage in all the offering rites and aspiration appeals (smon lam) performed during worship. Gurzhe’s image is the central representation on a small scroll painting kept by the lhami, while surrounding him are a range of lower ranked worldly deities who are believed to serve as his minions while he temporarily descends to and resides upon the earth during worship. Informants describe Gurzhe when he is invited by the ritual specialists as f lying down from the sky upon a white horse with the other Srid-pa’i lha, and arriving while being followed by all other lesser deities who either serve or are subordinate to him. This strict hierarchy of deities is strongly reflected in certain chants used during the Lhamoche, particularly in the so-called ‘Dzamling shida’,26 which is a sort of all-purpose text chanted each time offerings are made, but especially for the fresh beer or chang phud offering. The Dzamling shida consists of scores of short verse lines divided into three sections. The first section begins by calling Gurzhe to ‘Come!’ with threefold use of the ritual imperative Ko ke! Ko ke! Ko ke!, offering him chang phud three times, and settling him on seats of precious substances. The second section requests at length from Gurzhe every imaginable type of mundane benefit and protection a rural Himalayan hill farmer could wish for. The final section is an extensive name list of all other types of significant nonhuman beings included within the community’s cultural horizons. The list represents a status hierarchy of different groupings, beginning with what are locally considered as bon protective deities like gShen-lha ’Od-dkar and sTag-lha Me-’bar, then local btsan and the Buddhist gter bdag residing nearby at Seng-ge rDzong, and finally the place spirits of rivers and caves. Each grouping is offered the chang phud in descending order of status. Thus, in this local expression of the cosmos, while ’O-de Gung-rgyal is not explicitly mentioned, here his ‘son’ and surrogate Gurzhe is truly assimilated to the mythical role of his father, who is normally viewed as the progenitor and hence lord of all deities in the world. The Dzamling shida chant provides a good example of how territorial deities and spirits of the environment can be incorporated into Srid-pa’i lha worship in a cosmologically ‘correct’ manner from the perspective of the system itself, albeit in the minimal form of a single name chanted

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as part of a long, ranked sequence, which seems more like a matter of ritual courtesy than anything else. Of the two other male sibling deities, only the status of Namdorzhe is attested in local texts. Namdorzhe and Gurzhe were both formerly worshipped in the upper Kholong Chu valley around Bumdeling before the Srid-pa’i lha worship community there ceased to function with the demise of their ritual specialist. Both deities were still worshipped in the Dakpanang area of western Tawang at the time of the research. It is very likely that Namdorzhe represents a name for the clan ancestral deity of the gNam-sa founder clan. Their ancestors apparently migrated here from southern Tibet, and their origin narrative and name are still found preserved among Srid-pa’i lha worship communities from the junction of the Khoma Chu and Kuri Chu rivers in the west across as far as Lhau in Tawang to the east (see chs. 12, 16). Despite Ribumo being classed as the ‘elder sister’ Srid-pa’i lha sibling of Gurzhe, her mythical identity was somewhat obscure to informants at the time of my field research. She is related to the earth, its wild beings and the virgin forest. Accordingly, her special ritual ground during the festival, Rimolang or ‘Ri[bu]mo’s Field’, is set deep within the forest and apart from the other ritual sites. Informants said she is also associated with a lake in the highlands of the Khoma Chu valley, which strongly suggests the class of female sman deities that frequently feature in the cult. The name Ribumo appears to reflect a female earth deity of much older origins (see ch. 17), although that name is now locally explained as literally meaning ‘Bamboo Girl/Daughter’. Spoken ri (or rui) in both Dzala and Dakpa refers to a domestically important species of bamboo with thinner canes that grows at somewhat higher altitudes. This is how informants understand the ri element in the name Ribumo. Bu mo means ‘girl’ or ‘daughter’ in Tibetan, however the occurrence of this last element is strikingly out of place within the local linguistic context. Despite a high frequency of borrowed and assimilated Tibetan vocabulary in northern East Bodish languages, native speakers are always highly conservative about maintaining their own kin and gender designations, such as zhomu and burmin for ‘daughter’ and ‘girl’ in Dzala and Dakpa, respectively. I take this uncharacteristic gender

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marking in current folk etymology of the name as further evidence of an older name behind what Ribumo represents today. One candidate is Rü-bü (also Ru-bu and Ru-bou), the name of the principal earth goddess worshipped by premodern Qiang populations, as I discuss in chapter 17. Ribumo has rites addressed to her directly in front of the lha shing tree at Kupilang dongthan, and she is farewelled there with seven long lengths of fresh cut bamboo with leafy tops planted upright in the ground in a line, just behind the main altar (pl. 107). This rite, too, has clear parallels in premodern Qiang ritual culture. 27 Moreover, the use of bamboo for this female deity is symbolically congruent with the old classification of ritual trees/woods into the ‘nine mother trees of shady slopes’ (srib shing ma dgu), which include bamboo, and this classification is still used today within the rites at Tsango. Ribumo’s place in the Lhamoche festival also reminds us once again of the significance placed upon female deities throughout this region, and another female Srid-pa’i lha with a ‘Bamboo Woman’ name is worshipped not far west of Tsango in the Kurtö region.28

Palo Deities The palo is a ritual device bedecked with feathers and cloth strips related to protective deities and used to protect the mobile vitality principle of ritual participants. The deities associated with each of the three palo devices used during Lhamoche have a double identity. On the one hand, many informants state they are dedicated to and represent the three ancestral Srid-pa’i lha siblings Namdorzhe, Phongphongzhe and Gurzhe. This is the case for the palo deities at Lawa also. On the other hand, the palo are identified with three old communal deity titles collectively known as the A-ci gsum or ‘Three elder brothers’ in the manuscripts and from oral reports by informants. Their spoken and written names are Tanmang (sTan-mang) achi, Sekhar ([b]Se-mkhar) achi and Gephu (rGyal-phu) achi, which identify Tanmangding, Sekharding and Gephading, the three communal units (lding) and sub-settlement areas of old Tsango. There is no doubt the three achi titled communal names refer to the three Srid-pa’i lha, yet nowadays the correlation between them, and to any specific clans or lineages, is no longer maintained.

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Local Deities Local numina classed as btsan are the most common territorial deities of the Khoma valley. Tsango informants gave frequent descriptions for the roles played by of a series of local btsan during Lhamoche. They are temporarily coopted as functionaries or subordinates of the Srid-pa’i lha, but especially as serving Gurzhe in various ways during his five-week stay on earth every two years during the festival. This is a clear example of how a cult of local, earthbound territorial deities has become partially syncretised with Sridpa’i lha worship.

and regarded as the acting ‘steward’ (gnyer pa) of Gurzhe during the festival. And, finally, there are a set of nine minor deities near Dingchung who are temporarily recruited to become Gurzhe’s gsol dpon or ‘cooks’. In describing his own role in the rites of Lhamoche, the ritual specialist made the comparison several times that Gurzhe is like a king, that sNyong La and dBang-’dus rDo-rje Chang-chen are like his ministers, and that he himself acts alongside them like a royal chamberlain.

Ritual Performers Lhami

The deity sNyong La lHa-btsan dKar-po is locally classified as both a btsan and a phu. sNyong La is a high and spectacular snow peak on the range immediately north of the sPang La pass above Tsango. It is described as being the ‘palace’ (pho brang) of lHa-btsan dKar-po. He was the original place owner btsan of the now defunct Tsango settlement and hence of the descendants of all those who migrated away from there, including nowadays the inhabitants of Khomakang and Dingchung, as well as families at Longkhar on the east side of the sPang La pass in Bumdeling. sNyong La peak is regarded as one of several temporary resting places for the Srid-pa’i lha when they descend from the sky world for the festival, thus one function of lHa-btsan dKar-po is as a host offering a dwelling. He is also explained as being a ‘chamberlain’ (gzim dpon) for Gurzhe, especially in terms of accepting certain offerings on behalf of the cosmically and ritually superior lha from the sky. This idea regularly surfaced in conversations. Thus, when I asked who the offerings were being made for, the ritual specialists and participants often answered “to Meme sNyong La”, but qualified this by adding that it was the same as giving them to Gurzhe since the former is the latter’s personal assistant, just as a king has a minister. This distinction must not be overlooked when trying to carefully understand local interpretations of the syncretic relationship between the cult of territorial and environment spirits and the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For example, it is used to explain sacrifices of domestic animals which occur during the Lhamoche festival, as I will discuss more fully in the ethnography below. In addition to sNyong La, another local btsan named dBang-’dus rDo-rje Changchen, whose abode is a peak further up the valley, is co-opted

The main ritual specialist for Lhamoche is currently termed lhami. This is a colloquial form of written pla mi and lha mi found in some rabs manuscripts at Tsango. Elderly informants still occasionally use the spoken form plami ‘pla man’, which reflects other pla referents associated with Srid-pa’i lha worship in the lower Khoma valley as far as Lawa to the west, who also have a plami specialist, and throughout the Tawang region to the east (see ch. 12). The lhami is given the honorific title gongma (CT gong ma) during the Lhamoche festival. This is how he must be addressed by people, as part of the use of a cryptolect vocabulary during the worship period (see below). The gong ma title has a double meaning. It not only alludes to the lhami being ‘superior’ as the principal specialist, but also that he represents the ‘forefathers’ or ‘ancestors’ in his lineage who were ritual specialists before him back into the distant past. The lineage is said to ultimately go back to a specific figure referred to as Bonjü (Bon-rgyud) or ‘Continuity of the Rites (bon)’, whose origin narrative from Tsango was presented in the section on gShen-rab Mi-bo in chapter 4. This boy named Bonjü, the son of a Tibetan bon po who himself became a ritual specialist to succeed his deceased father, is said to have migrated southwards into the Khoma Chu valley from the g.Ye-mo and Yar-lung regions of Tibet, and he features in various oral narratives about the origins of Srid-pa’i lha worship which are narrated at Tsango. The Tsango lhami is a hereditary position held by males within the Nami linage. The line is only remembered back

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five generations, although its patrilineal succession has been rather straightforward. The earliest lhami still recalled was Meme Dola, whose son was lhami Tashi, whose son was the lhami Meme Samten, whose son was lhami Meme Tashi. Meme Tashi had no sons, and so the lhami succession passed to his paternal nephew Meme Nyima Dorji who was the incumbent during my field research. As a boy, Nyima Dorji had often been selected by his paternal grandfather lhami Meme Samten to serve as his ritual assistant. Thus, he became well versed in all the rites and many of the chants long before he became the lhami himself. When Nyima Dorji’s uncle Meme Tashi became very elderly, and no longer wanted to act as the lhami, he simply refused the villagers’ requests to perform any ritual services, such as healing rites and divinations. Apparently, amid some community tensions over this refusal, one day Meme Tashi went up to Tsango and placed his ritual costume and implements into a ruined house at Tsumgung dongthan. This roofless, crumbling three-walled structure is known as Budeling and now serves as one of the main staging points for the rites during Lhamoche (I suspect the site was once the ancestral house of the lhami lineage when Tsango was still a functioning village, see below). Nyima Dorji observed what his uncle had done. He rescued the ritual paraphernalia from the ruins to prevent them from being damaged by the elements. Nyima Dorji was then asked by the community to become the new lhami. During my fieldwork, he was over eighty years of age and had held his lhami position for twenty-four years as of 2012, although he made it clear that he was very anxious to retire due to his advanced age. At that time, it was already being said by members of the community that when lhami Nyima Dorji’s successor is identified he must be chosen from among the old man’s close patrilineal kin group. The lhami is the custodian of all the rabs manuscripts for the Tsango community, plus a group of other ritual objects and costume items that only the incumbent ritual specialist may have in his possession and use. Unlike his lineage forebears, Meme Nyima Dorji is not literate, and all the rabs he uses are those he has memorised. However, the drong (see below) is literate, and at least one other literate man at Tsango had also been trained when young in most of the narrative and ritual traditions by the former lhami Meme Tashi before the

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é Plate 105. Costume and accoutrements of the Tsango lhami during the 2012 Lhamoche festival, Khoma valley.

latter passed away, presumably to ensure that this person would be able to step in and help train a new lhami using the written texts in the event of any unforeseen interruption in the hereditary lineage transmission. This person, and a few other literate males, all chant directly from the rabs manuscripts during the rites alongside the now ageing lhami. This is done as a way of politely supporting the elderly incumbent and the other performers to carry the chants correctly and without interruption. While performing during the 2012 Lhamoche, the lhami wore well-woven and colourful examples of the normal

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

knee-length Bhutanese male robes (gos), together with knee socks and a brand-new pair of modern sports shoes (pl. 105). However, informants over fifty years of age all clearly recall the style of ritual costume (‘the dress for bon’) worn by the lhami, drong and all the lha’i bu back in the time when they were children, but later abandoned. These three specialists each wore a woollen cape-like jacket, flared at the hem and black and blue-green in colour. They bound this at the waist with a belt decorated with cowry shells. They also wore extremely wide white trousers reaching below the knees. These are characteristic of the style of traditional men’s garments found throughout the Dzala and Dakpa speaking region. The older Tsango outfit for lhami, drong and lha’i bu was the same as that still worn by the ritual specialists at Lawa village in the lower Khoma Chu valley (pls. 22, 23), and at neighbouring sites in Kurtö. However, lhami and drong at Tsango both wear a special form of the woollen turban (bal thod) called the ‘Asha hat’ (pl. 105), introduced briefly in chapter 5. It has a very broad brim and is made of felted black or dark brown wool and will be discussed comparatively in chapter 17. The rigs lnga crown is also worn by lhami and drong, but only added to the Asha hat during Lhamoche itself since that is when the auxiliary beings are invoked by the bon shaman in various rites. During the few other times throughout the year when more minor worship for the Srid-pa’i lha is performed, this woollen hat is worn without the crown. The hat and crown are regarded as extremely sacred, and nobody aside from the ritual specialist himself may ever touch them. An additional feature of the woollen turban at Tsango is a collection of tufts of died hair from yak tails or goat hides tied at the rear of the headgear (pl. 55). The closest example of such a hair tuft accessory occurs on the headgear of the Beydungpa performers of the Lhau Pla festival in Tawang (pls. 174, 175). The main and frequently used accoutrement of the lhami is his gshang flat bell (pl. 105). He also has a small ritual dagger (phur bu), although this remained tightly wrapped in cloth resting upon the altar during any rites he performed in public and I never observed it being actively used. Meme Nyima Dorji told me that when he was a youth his ‘grandfather’

the old lhami used to use a single-side drum when he performed certain rites to worship the lha, but that this was lost long ago in a house fire and never replaced. He himself uses a double-sided drum for a short Srid-pa’i lha rite addressing the deity Gurzhe performed during summer and called Sharlha (CT dbyar lha) or ‘summer lha’, but not nowadays for Lhamoche. A final ritual item in the possession of the lhami is a small painted scroll depicting Gurzhe mounted upon his white horse and surrounded by various deities who render Gurzhe service during the Lhamoche. This was badly damaged at the time I was shown it by Meme Nyima Dorji. He had it hanging one evening in his own private hut at Tsango, perhaps as an aid to the visualisations he performed, although it was kept hidden from public view and treated with great reverence and care. It was used for a nocturnal rite on Day Four of the festival. A few other examples of small painted images of Srid-pa’i lha and auxiliary beings are kept by ritual specialists in Khoma and nearby Kurtö, and all are likewise treated with the same degree of semisecrecy and great care. When I participated in the major Srid-pa’i lha festival at Lawa in the lower Khoma Chu valley, at one point during the end phases of the rites the plami took out a small booklet containing painted images of the ancestral Srid-pa’i lha, gshen and auxiliary figures, and held these up in front of the assembled public while reciting the names of each icon as he displayed them briefly. Otherwise, these images are never seen. Like the secret spells used by these ritual specialists, the painted scrolls or images in manuscripts in their possession belong to the ritual technologies of power which are their exclusive domain. Drong While local manuscripts mention this specialist with the written form sgrung, the term is pronounced drong (or drung). Like the lhami, the drong is a hereditary position held by a single male member of a specific patrilineage. The drung at the time of my research, Meme Tsewang Phuntsho, was from Dingchung. He inherited the role at the age of seventeen and was sixty-nine years old in 2012. During his half century of service, he has performed alongside three different lhami. Meme Tsewang Phuntsho is literate and able to read the rabs manuscripts. His performance role appears in

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most respects to be identical to that of the lhami, and while origin narratives from Khoma mention that the drong was the leading ritual specialist there in the past, this is no longer the case. The drong does not possess the secret spells called ‘essential instructions’ (gdams ngags) into which only the lhami becomes initiated by his ancestral predecessor, nor does he keep the rabs manuscripts and other ritual equipment that the lhami inherits from his predecessor. During the 2012 Lhamoche, the drong wore the same woollen Asha hat as the lhami, however this was a recent innovation. This hat was formerly worn by the hereditary Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialist called na’u in Laber village, whose role and status were equal to that of the Tsango lhami. After the last na’u passed away, and had no successor, his hat was taken to Tsango and always placed upon a post the height of a man that was driven into the ground at each Lhamoche altar alongside the seats of the lhami and drong. Instead of that arrangement, the drong then began wearing this Asha hat. While the lhami took the lead during most rites, there were two exceptions that appear to be the exclusive preserve of the drong. The drong took the lead role during the presentation rites for the palo devices at Tsumgung dongthan on Day Two, and again during all the rites at both Rimolang dongthan and lower Kupilang dongthan for the nawan offering to the female deity Abu Ribumo on Day Three of the festival. While the possible origins and historical development of ritual roles of both drong and lhami remain obscure, the pair fit the regional pattern of two principal ritual specialists who perform the central rites together, and which is found at many sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship throughout the region. Lha’i bu The lha’i bu are ten in number and must come from the five main sponsor households. They were mainly teenage boys. The primary role of lha’i bu is performance of bro bodily movements and chanting alongside the lhami, as at other sites of the Srid-pa’i lha cult where lha’i bu perform. However, at Tsango they must also participate in a range of ‘games’ or athletic challenges, which include running, jumping movements and mimicking animals during the rites that are staged at certain sites. In the past, the lha’i bu

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wore a costume the same as the pre-modern lhami costume mentioned above. Today, the Tsango lha’i bu no longer use any special costume other than wearing a rigs lnga crown upon the head and a bib-like vest of yellow silk around the chest. Rather, they wear clean, well woven and colourful examples of the normal Bhutanese male robes, with knee socks and modern shoes. The lha’i bu must change into a fresh costume on each day of the festival, and thus were provided with seven robes and seven pairs of shoes, all of which appeared to me to be new or in near new condition. The expense for the sponsor households must be considerable. The explanation given for this daily changing of new costumes was that it pleases the deities whom the community only invite down into their midst once every two years for the festival. There were once lha’i lcam – the female equivalent of the lha’i bu – performing at Tsango. We find them clearly mentioned in the rabs texts alongside the lha’i bu, and they also perform at other Khoma Chu valley sites. However, their participation must have ended some time ago since no informants can recall them. Hereditary ritual assistants and sponsors There are five different ritual assistant roles that are hereditary during Lhamoche. The horn blower or umkha is the most important. The horn (um) itself is regarded as extremely sacred. It is made of a large water buffalo horn, as we find elsewhere throughout the region. It is kept at the house of the lhami along with all his other ritual equipment. The horn is never taken out of storage outside of the actual dates of Srid-pa’i lha worship, and then the lhami and the umkha are the only persons allowed to handle it, but only after they have been properly purified using fumigation. During the Lhamoche, I never saw the horn touched by any other persons, although it was used sometimes to bless participants by placing gently upon the crowns of their heads. During rites, when not being handheld by the umkha, or carried on its strap across his back, the horn is always hung up in a forked tree branch next to the altar being used for a rite, or it can be placed upon certain special rocks at some of the dongthan sites. In the past, the horn used to be stored at the now ruined house named Budeling at the old Tsango settlement, which was destroyed by fire. It is said the horn

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

miraculously flew out of the house to rescue itself from the flames. Additionally, there is one tsangmi, one namsa (CT gnam sa) and one debjön, each of whom assists the lhami or drong with specific phases of the rites. Their costumes are identical to the lha’i bu. The three men termed palopa who bear the palo device originally held hereditary positions that were within specific households. The three palopa represented each of the three original sub-settlements within the old Tsango village and each palo was associated with a deity of that settlement. Since the responsible households no longer wanted to perform the role, for recent festivals the lhami had been directly appointing suitable men as palopa, one from Khomakang, one from Dingchung and one from elsewhere. The three palopa and the umkha were each costumed in new and clean male Bhutanese attire the same as the lha’i bu, except that none wore the rigs lnga crown or vest of yellow silk like the latter.

whom she is appearing in the stead of, regardless of whether those persons will themselves attend the festival or whether they have migrated and dwell elsewhere in distant places. The two male trimpön (khrims dpon), who are sometimes called lhasebu (lha’i sras bu) or literally ‘sons of the lha’, function as marshals who maintain public conduct for the duration of the Lhamoche festival. They also ensure that the ritual prohibitions and requirements are observed, and they undertake several ritual roles such as conducting mock animal sacrifices. At the beginning of each festival, the two trimpön must be elected by a committee of the five khyem Ama and the lhami. The trimpön wear a clean set of the normal Bhutanese male robes, have the long, white Bhutanese khabney scarf draped over their left shoulders, and carry traditional long swords on their belts. Setting

There are five households from Khomakang and Dingchung who must act as the hereditary sponsors for the Lhamoche festival. These households each had khral pa or ‘taxpayer’ status under the premodern Bhutanese state. This implies they formed a local socio-economic ‘upper class’ of sorts during the past, and in fact all other households in the community only had a bza’ pa dependant status in relation to them. While the premodern state disappeared during the 1950s due to reforms, the index of the former ‘taxpayer’ position persists for the five households in their hereditary obligation as ritual sponsors during Lhamoche festivals. The current heads of these five households, all of whom are women, are termed khyem Ama or ‘house mother’, and the colloquial Tibetan expression ‘mother who is a ritual sponsor’ (CT sbyin bdag gi A ma) is also used for them in relation to their festivals roles. The category is female since many premodern households right across Bhutan were based upon matrilocality and daughter inheritance, with socially senior women being both property owners and household heads.29 As ritual representatives of their households, each khyem Ama gains life power blessings or omens from divination on behalf of all members of her household when these rites are performed during the festival. Thus, when she approaches the lhami and drong for blessings or omens, she must repeat the full list of names of household members for

Adjacent to the ruins of old Tsango village on the heavily forested hillside, there is a large clearing several hundred metres in length that is bisected by two small streams. In the centre of the clearing, some twenty-five bamboo herders’ huts-cum-cattle sheds (nor brang) are maintained for seasonal pastoralism, and these huts shelter all the participants over the seven-day duration of Lhamoche. Since the festival occurs in mid-winter, all necessary food supplies, domestic articles and bedding need to be transported to Tsango by horse from the participants’ homes in Khomakang and Dingchung. As one informant put it, it is as if the entire population of the area engages in communal camping for a week on the margins of their ruined and longdefunct ancestral village. This speaks of a deep conservatism associated with Srid-pa’i lha worship here, and this is indeed reflected in informant discourse. The ‘original’ sites at which local narratives state worship first occurred, at the beginning of mythical time, must continue to be used, and the Srid-pa’i lha will accept no substitute. The Lhamoche festival is staged at a series of ten named sites scattered around the Tsango clearing and in the nearby forest (fig. 10). In the Dzala language, these localised ritual sites are called dongthan, with dong (cf. CT gdong) meaning

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lha shing

lha shing

abode of phu Nyong-la (east)

N

Chagselang Lhazangmey

lha shing

Namsalang Kupilang Shotakhang

Rimolang Tashiding

ruins

Tsumgung

herder’s huts

Melong Mensey ruins ruins

Khomagyan

path to Khomakang

‘to meet’ and than (cf. CT gdan) meaning a ‘seat’ or ‘resting place’. They are the sites of direct encounter where the Srid-pa’i lha are invited (zhu) to remain while being hosted (gsol) during worship. In other regional languages, the same types of sites are more commonly termed dog sa. The Tsango dongthan can be grouped into five major sites, including Tsumgung[-lang], Khomagyan, Tashiding, Namsalang and Kupilang, as well as five of somewhat lesser importance including Melong Mensey, Shotakhang, Lhazangmey, Chagselang and Rimolang. Most are essentially open-air meadow areas next to the forest margin, or groves beneath the forest canopy with no obvious distinguishing features, aside from a few long and low natural stone slab altars that one only recognises as such once local inhabitants have pointed them out. For the initiated, there are mythologically significant stones and boulders at some dongthan, or large trees called lha shing at others (fig. 10). These ‘deity trees’ are used by the Srid-pa’i lha as temporary resting places when offerings are made to them, and the worshippers envisage the deities sitting atop the trees and

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î Figure 10. Plan of festival staging sites at old Tsango.

looking out over them as they perform the rites below. The two dongthan of Kupilang and Chagselang both feature low, stone slab altars set into the ground. It is perhaps significant that both sites with these ancient-looking altars are where different animal sacrifices must be staged during Lhamoche. The dongthan of Shotakhang is a water source at which all the ritual specialists must perform ablutions at certain points in the festival. In all the above respects, the ritual sites conform to the ‘sacred grove’ type used in most Sridpa’i lha worship throughout the region. In general, most people say that the various boulders located at the dongthan of Tsumgung, Khomagyan, Tashiding and Namsalang which are used during the rites of Lhamoche are all foundations associated with the Srid-pa’i lha’s original activities at Tsango. This is the main reason given to explain why the festivals must still be celebrated at old Tsango rather than being moved to a more convenient location next to Khomakang or Dingchung: people have no authority to change the sites originally designated by the deity, which

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

may cause the latter to become hostile. Some of the dongthan also have other long and complex narratives associated with them, which I will explain as I describe the daily ritual activity of the festival. The events move predictably from one dongthan to the next in a specific daily sequence determined by the rabs narratives, and this sequence will now be set out in the Festival Schedule section. Festival Schedule The week-long Tsango Lhamoche is celebrated only once every two years. During intermediate years, a few rites of Srid-pa’i lha worship called Gunlha (dgun lha, literally ‘winter lha’) are celebrated on a minor scale by the lhami on the twelfth and fourteenth days of the eleventh lunar month at Tsango.30 The major two-yearly Lhamoche staged at Tsango has two consecutive phases, the first being an initial set of preparatory rites performed by ritual specialists on four specific dates, and the second a publicly staged community festival of seven days duration beginning exactly one lunar month after the first day of preparatory rites. Only a specific period within each lunar month can be used for inviting the Srid-pa’i lha down to earth using the Lha zhu rabs and presenting offerings to them. This period is technically known as tshe or ‘the time’ and covers days one to twenty of each month. The schedule of preparatory rites for the 2012 Lhamoche was as follows (‘month’ here refers to lunar months of the Bhutanese calendar): Preparatory Day One ○○ On the twelfth day of the tenth month (= 6 December 2011), the lhami and drong, together with the namsa assistant, went to Tsango to initially invite Gurzhe and other Srid-pa’i lha down from the top of the sky world to reside at the sNyong La peak. Preparatory Day Two ○○ On the twenty-ninth day of the tenth month (= 23 December 2011), at Tsango the lhami specially purified any persons who had carried a corpse during the previous year to eliminate traces of ‘death defilement’ (shi grib) prior to the Lhamoche.

Preparatory Day Three ○○ On the third day of the eleventh month (= 27 December 2011), the lhami interpreted results of the Mangromshe divination for community fortunes. Preparatory Day Four31 ○○ On the eighth day of the eleventh month (= 1 January 2012), the lhami went to a site called Phobrang Jab next to Dingchung village and made offerings to a group of nine deities who serve as the ‘cooks’ (gsol dpon) for Gurzhe and other Srid-pa’i lha during their visit to earth. He requested these deities to arrive at Tsango to serve the Srid-pa’i lha on the twelfth day of the month when the main Lhamoche festival commences. The seven-day communal Lhamoche festival was staged between the twelfth and eighteenth days of the eleventh month (= 5-11 January). The daily schedule was as follows: Festival Day One ○○ On the twelfth day, the lhami and umkha travelled up to Tsango with their equipment. ○○ Chang phud offered by the lhami and umkha at Tsumgung dongthan. ○○ Kalang divination performed by the lhami and umkha at Tashiding dongthan. Festival Day Two ○○ On the thirteenth day, the lhami occupied his separate lha brang hut at Tsango until the festival was completed. ○○ Fumigation rites to purify all participants arriving at Tsango. ○○ The five khyem Ama elected the two trimpön, after which the cryptolect vocabulary had to be used among participants until the Lhamoche ended. ○○ Construction of three palo devices and their presentation at Tsumgung. Festival Day Three ○○ On the fourteenth day, all ritual specialists performed ablution rites at Shotakang spring. ○○ Procession of ritual performers from Tsumgung dongthan to Kupilang dongthan.

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○○ Chants and bro movement performance staged at upper Kupilang dongthan. ○○ Ribumo farewelled at lower Kupilang dongthan. ○○ The drong took the Yizhin Norbu animal from Rimolang dongthan to lower Kupilang. ○○ The lha’i bu raced from upper to lower Kupilang ○○ Tshe blessings for participants at lower Kupilang. ○○ Offering of Yizhin Norbu animal at lower Kupilang and the lha shing ○○ Zan offering at Tsumgung. Festival Day Four ○○ On the fifteenth day, a sheep sacrifice and tshe blessings were performed at Chagselang dongthan and the lha shing. ○○ ’O-de Gung-rgyal and the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo were described and praised at Tsumgung. ○○ Sponsored praise singing (mracheb) for the public at Tsumgung. ○○ Farewell to Namdorzhe at Tsumgung. ○○ Communal feast at Tsumgung. ○○ Main ritual specialists with the lha’i bu chanted smon lam blessings in the huts of each sponsor household. ○○ Evening chanting contest for young women and men in the lha brang hut at Khomagyan dongthan. ○○ The lhami chanted protective rites in lha brang hut at Khomagyan. ○○ The lha’i bu went to Nalangong, then drove out sa ’dre demons from each hut at night. Festival Day Five ○○ On the sixteenth day, the narrative of sGam-chen Pha-wang was chanted and acted out at Khomagyan. ○○ Boma grains offered to and rubbed on the faces of participants to celebrate and wish for good crops and soil fertility. ○○ The lha’i bu foot race from Khomagyan to Tashiding. ○○ Sifu fertility rites for women performed at Tashiding. ○○ Phongphongzhe farewelled at Namsalang dongthan. ○○ The lha’i bu foot race from Namsalang to Melong Mensey dongthan. ○○ Chanting sel rabs at Melong Mensey. Festival Day Six ○○ On the seventeenth day, Sifu persons made offerings at

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Namsalang. ○○ Iyetang Pentang performance at Lhazangmey dongthan. ○○ Foot race and Plajo performance at Lhazangmey. ○○ Gurzhe farewelled at Lhazangmey. ○○ The lha’i bu chant Bkra shis and Bzhal thems to Gurzhe. ○○ Community folk dances and songs at night. Festival Day Seven ○○ On the eighteenth day, the opening and distributing of the palo was performed at Shotakang spring. ○○ Final rites for expelling sa ’dre demons from the entire region. ○○ Departure of participants from Tsango.

Ritual Texts At the time of my research, most of the rabs and associated ritual texts used during the Lhamoche at Tsango were written in a collection of fourteen short manuscripts bound in the form of booklets. Although they have the status of community property, these manuscripts are kept by the lhami incumbent and will be passed to his hereditary successor. Approximately half of the manuscripts represented older, often damaged copies of the core texts that had been subsequently rewritten over time. I observed only four different manuscripts from the total in use by the ritual specialists during the 2012 Lhamoche performance. The names of the main rabs and associated ritual texts, the approximate sequence of their use, and notes on their status are listed in figure 11. Certain rabs were chanted only once during the festival, while others were repeated at the start of each major ritual sequence staged at the different dongthan sites over consecutive days. What is immediately striking about the list in figure 11 is that nowadays none of the initial rabs are preserved in written form or have even been lost to memory. Informants reported that one of Tsango’s main manuscripts for the festival during the past, the so-called Gabcigma (from written Khab cig ma, with Khab-lha being an older name for the festival), was destroyed in a house fire when old Tsango was still inhabited as a village. The ruins of the house where this

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

fire occurred next to Tsumgung dongthan are today called Budeling and serve as a temporary lha brang hut in which the lha’i bu and palopa base themselves during the Lhamoche. The same site is the starting point for their processions to other dongthan together with the main ritual specialists.32 It seems certain that the burning of the Gabcigma manuscript resulted in both permanent loss of some rabs and the survival of others in oral form only, as memorised by the lhami, the drong and one or two other knowledgeable men. For example, when I once inquired about the local version of the Sa’i chags rabs or Creation of the World Narrative, which is one of the most common rabs used to begin Srid-pa’i lha festivals throughout the region, I was told it no longer existed since it was lost when the Gabcigma was burnt. The Sa’i chags rabs is now partially substituted with an abbreviated narrative called the Skyed rgyud that concerns the origins of the four elements and of classes of beings. Chanting of the Skyed rgyud, normally done at the Kupilang dongthan, was omitted during the 2012 Lhamoche, as was full use of the text titled Gnam sa bstod ’bum, but no explanation was forthcoming as to why such changes occurred. The second anomaly in figure 11 is the presence of manuscripts for the long and sophisticated Sel rabs cycle, almost all the rites and chants for which are no longer used. I found three complete copies of Sel rabs manuscripts included within the Tsango lhami’s collection, more than at any other site where the Sel rabs is employed. However, with the single exception of the short Me long sman sel rite, the Sel rabs cycle was not performed during the 2012 Lhamoche as it normally would have been, and as it still is at other sites within the region. The question of its decline is a complex one, and I will consider it below in the section Transformations. Not all of the texts and chants performed at the Tsango Lhamoche are considered to be or classified as rabs. For example, the Dzamling shida used for chang phud and other rites is a hybrid text for offering but containing many aspirations and appeals, while the Bon rgyud is a rarely occurring form of eulogy which was discussed in chapter 4.

9.5 Preparatory Days On the twelfth day of the tenth lunar month, the lhami and drong, together with their namsa assistant and the umkha, went up to the Tsumgung dongthan at Tsango to invite Gurzhe and other Srid-pa’i lha down from the top of the sky world. Tsumgung is situated right at the boundary of the Tsango meadowlands and a concentration of ruined and overgrown walls of stone. These belong to former houses of the abandoned Tsango settlement. It is considered the most important dongthan for staging Lhamoche, and different rites are either staged at or originate from there. At Tsumgung, the standing walls of one ruined house site called Budeling are covered with some bamboo matting and serve as a temporary lha brang hut for the lha’i bu and palopa during the Lhamoche. The Lha zhu rites to invite down the deities are performed here right outside the Budeling ruins. Since initial Lha zhu rites for many Srid-pa’i lha festivals are first staged at the hearth place in the ancestral house of the main, hereditary ritual sponsor, it is very likely that Budeling was the house of this sponsor or of the lhami lineage when Tsango was still a functioning village. Tsumgung itself is a relatively level area with several large boulders scattered around, some of which are completely f lat and have wide, regular holes apparently ground into their upper surfaces. These give the site its name. In the dialects of Central Tibet, the word tshum (and gtun) refers to a large wooden mortar used for pounding grain, and normally fashioned from the trunk of a tree (tshum can also sometimes mean the wooden pestle used together with this mortar). The word khung means ‘hole’ or ‘hollow’. Thus, the name locally pronounced ‘Tsumgung’ recalls a typical Tibetan expression meaning the ‘mortar [which is] a hole/ hollow’, referring here to the hollows within these local stones which it is claimed were formerly used as mortars in the old village. Such crude stone mortars are still encountered at certain villages within the region. The stone mortar holes at Tsumgung are also regarded as having an oracular function, since the amount of water found standing in them is interpreted as an indicator of upcoming weather in the area. It is also believed that offering chang phud and freshly taken milk into these holes when the weather is

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no.

text title

use in festival schedule

extant form

1

Bsangs bsangs rabs (also Bsangs rabs)

- Preparatory Day One, prior to the Lha zhu rabs - when purifying worshippers upon arrival at Tsango - prior to all chang phud and other offerings to the Srid-pa’i lha

oral version

2

Lha zhu rabs

- Preparatory Day One, for the verbal ritual journey to invite Srid-pa’i lha from the sky

oral version

3

Chang phud rabs (a.k.a. Dzamling shida)

- for chang phud and all other offerings to the Srid-pa’i lha - Festival Day One, prior to Kalang divination

oral version

4

Lha’i gtam

- Festival Day Two, for presentation of the palo device at Tsumgung dongthan

oral version

5

Sa’i chags rabs

- No longer used. Narrative content: Origin of existence, the world and beings. Replaced by the Skyed rgyud (see below)

not extant

6

Dam ngags phig pa tshig gsum

- Recited in the mind by the lhami prior to his public rites at each dongthan - Festival Day Four, recited in the mind by the lhami before his private rites at Khomagyan dongthan

manuscript

7

Bon rgyud

- prior to the main rites at each dongthan.

manuscript

8

Skyed rgyud (also Lha mi klu gsum gi skyed rgyud)

- prior to the main rites at each dongthan.

manuscript

9

Dong rtan ku pi langs gi bstod ’bum

- Festival Day Three at the lower end of Kupilang dongthan

manuscript

10

Khribs la

- Festival Day Three at the lower end of Kupilang dongthan

manuscript

11

Gnam sa bstod ’bum

- Festival Day Six at Namsalang dongthan Not used during 2012

manuscript

12

Stod bshad smad bshad

- Festival Day Four at Tsumgung dongthan

manuscript

13

Ston pa rgam chen pha wang gis lha phab lus

- Festival Day Five, at Khomagyan dongthan

manuscript

14

[no title: origin narrative of sel rites]

- Not used during 2012

manuscript

15

Me rabs

- Not used during 2012

manuscript

16

Spos rabs

- Not used during 2012

manuscript

17

Lcags rabs

- Not used during 2012

manuscript

18

Lam sel rabs (or Khrus rabs; oral version = Melong mensey rab)

- Festival Day Five, at Melong Mensey dongthan

manuscript, oral version

19

Nam zla dus bzhi (or Khrus rabs)

- Not used during 2012

manuscript

20

Bdud rtsi rabs (or Khrus rabs)

- Not used during 2012

manuscript

21

Bkra shis

- Festival Day Six, at Khomagyan dongthan

manuscript

22

Bzhal thems

- Festival Day Six, at Khomagyan dongthan

manuscript

é Figure 11. Main ritual texts for Lhamoche festivals at Tsango.

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overcast or rainy will clear the skies.33 Next to the old mortar stones, there are other rocks, such as that identified as being the ‘hearth of the lha’ (lha’i thab), and another large round boulder upon which the umkha can rest his highly sacred horn. These rocks are used for various rites only during Lhamoche. Most importantly, Tsumgung is the place at which the lhami invites the deities to descend from the top of the sky by undertaking a verbal ritual journey. His aim upon reaching the sky world is to convince the Srid-pa’i lha to descend and escort them down to their temporary resting place at sNyong La pho brang. This sublime ‘palace’ is imagined by the worshippers as surrounding the summit of the high snow peak of the mountain sNyong La that towers above Tsango. Three days prior to this rite, the lhami himself had carefully prepared the nakpa used as the chang phud offering, and he had done so with the utmost precautions for cleanliness. Normally, brewing and distilling of alcohol represent female domestic labour. However, male ritual specialists or their assistants frequently prepare the main liquor offerings used during Srid-pa’i lha rites.

Purification Rite The rites began at Tsumgung at around ten or eleven o’clock in the morning with a brief fumigation of the performers using fragrant incense burnt upon hot coals. First, the lhami chanted the Bsangs bsangs rabs translated below and used the incense smoke to purify the drong. Then the drong repeated this process to purify the lhami himself, after which they both performed the rite a final time to purify their ritual assistants. The Bsangs bsangs rabs is as follows (fig. 11, no. 1): This is a fumigation to purify. Purify improper relations with the lha. Purify defilements passed onto female deities. Purify the lha of the sky if they are sullied. Purify the bodies of [the deities at the passes of] Gengs La and Bod La.34 Purify the body of sNyong La to the east.

Purify the body of Jo bo Ung-bsdus.35 Purify the bodies of the fire lha and water lha. Purify the bodies of [the deities at the passes of] Gi La and Thang La.36 Purify the great lha. Purify the great benevolent ones. Purify the great beings. Purify those lha completely. Purify the lha of the body, Ri-rgyal lHun-po. Purify the lha of speech, gShen-lha ’Od-dkar. Purify the lha of mind, Ye-shes Phra-bo. Purify the lha of ability, Gangs-chen dKar-mo. Purify the lha of activity, sTag-la Me-’bar. Purify the Gar-gsas bTsan-po and his consort from the east. Purify the gNam-gsas bTsan-po and his consort from the south. [Purify the gSas-rje dMar-po and his consort from the west. Purify the rGod-gsas bTsan-po and his consort from the north.]37 Purify the dBal-gsas bTsan-po and his consort from the centre. Purify with birch, [representing the nine] father trees.38 Purify with alpine willow, [representing the nine] mother trees.39 Purify with tamarisk, [representing the nine] son/ child trees.40 Purify with the two incense rhododendrons (ba lu and su lu). With fragrant incense and precious sandalwood, Purify corpse pollution, defilements of the common people, Birth pollution, death pollution And all the tshe of the people. Purify the entire ocean of choicest beer.41 Despite its having no written version, the language of the Bsangs bsangs rabs (or simply Bsangs rabs) is a standard Tibetan without any Dzala influences. On the one hand, the text is highly logical in terms of the ritual sequence, which is closely linked to the Lha zhu rabs it immediately precedes. First, it lists a series of purifications: the sky deities and the

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geographical sites along the route of the Lha zhu itinerary over which the lhami and the deities must directly pass during the journey to and from the sky; the sets of lha and gsas deities invoked as the lhami’s auxiliaries who empower and protect him during the rites. Finally, there are listed the main plants which represent the three types of incense from the so-called ‘nine father’, ‘nine mother’ and ‘nine son’ trees, as well as the subsidiary species used for the fumigation smoke, and the type of pollution the smoke should eliminate. On the other hand, this Bsangs bsangs rabs is very conventional compared with others in use elsewhere around the region. This is because it lacks any preceding antecedent narrative recounting the mythical origins of incense and fumigation. Such an antecedent narrative giving the search for incense does indeed exist at Tsango. This is the Spos rabs as a part of the Sel rabs cycle, and a translation of its text was presented in chapter 7. However, use of the Sel rabs did not

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é Figure 12. Ascending itinerary of the Lha zhu rabs at Tsango. Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus.

feature during the 2012 Lhamoche, except for the chanting of a single rabs from its complete cycle, that of the Me long sman sel. I suspect that the Bsangs bsangs rabs in use today at Tsango is a version created to replace an older written text destroyed in the fire mentioned above in which a range of manuscripts were lost.

Verbal Ritual Journey At this point, the umkha called the deities to attention with his horn, heralding the impending arrival of the lhami who then began his verbal ritual journey to the top of the sky

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

world. While all the specialists stood erect, the Lha zhu rabs was chanted by the lhami as he simultaneously visualised travelling the itinerary set out in his chant.42 The lhami said his main qualification for this performance was being the holder of the secret spell named Phig pa tshig gsum. Only a hereditary Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialist is initiated with this secret spell, and only he can use it to invoke protection from his auxiliaries for himself and others during what are essentially liminal rites, such as the journey to the top of the sky and back. His other requirements for the verbal ritual journey are wearing his broad-brimmed Asha hat together with the rigs lnga crown attached during the performance. This headgear is the seat for his auxiliaries. The lhami explained that as he chanted he imagined, in the form of a conscious visualisation, transiting the journey across the mountains and up through the sky described by the itinerary, then encountering the deities at the top of the sky, addressing them with his invitation, and finally being together with them on the descent back down to earth. The journey narrative itself had three phases. It commenced with the ascending itinerary, the route of which is graphically depicted on figure 12. After this, the lhami arrived in front of the deities in their palace at the top of the sky world, and then his subsequent descent back to earth followed the exact reverse order of the ascending itinerary. For economy’s sake, below I will translate the descending itinerary only. The standing lhami, who was draped in a large white khabney shawl, held one end of the shawl out in front of him with both hands in a respectful gesture of address, and called out the archaic invocation, Kho khe! Kho khe! meaning ‘Come! Come!’ He then prostrated to the north three times, after which he began chanting the verbal ritual journey. I take up the itinerary at the point where the lhami faces the deities who are seated upon thrones of precious substances in their palace. From that point, he guides the lha down to earth via all stages of the vertical cosmography to a highland touch down zone where they alight upon the tops of different tree species, and finally reach the altar with its offerings just at the domain of human settlement (fig. 11, no. 2):

Come down from the golden throne to the silver throne. Come down from the silver throne to the turquoise throne. Come down from the turquoise throne to the conch throne. Come down from the conch throne to the copper throne. Come down from the copper throne to the iron throne. Come down from the iron throne to the eighteenth level of the sky world. Come down from the eighteenth level of the sky world to the seventeenth level. Come down from the seventeenth level of the sky world to the sixteenth level. Come down from the sixteenth level of the sky world to the fifteenth level. Come down from the fifteenth level of the sky world to the fourteenth level. Come down from the fourteenth level of the sky world to the thirteenth level. Come down from the thirteenth level of the sky world to the twelfth level. Come down from the twelfth level of the sky world to the eleventh level. Come down from the eleventh level of the sky world to the tenth level. Come down from the tenth level of the sky world to the ninth level. Come down from the ninth level of the sky world to the eighth level. Come down from the eighth level of the sky world to the seventh level. Come down from the seventh level of the sky world to the sixth level. Come down from the sixth level of the sky world to the fifth level. Come down from the fifth level of the sky world to the fourth level. Come down from the fourth level of the sky world to the third level.

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Come down from the third level of the sky world to the second level. Come down from the second level of the sky world to the first level. Come down from the first level of the sky world to the cosmic mountain.43 Come down from the cosmic mountain to gTsang La-stod. Come down from gTsang La-stod to gTsang La-smad. Come down from gTsang La-smad to the realm of intermediate space. Come down from the realm of intermediate space to the heights of the Geng La pass. Come down from the heights of the Geng La pass to the heights of sNyong La. Come down from the heights of sNyong La atop44 the birch [trees].45 Come down from atop the birch [trees], atop the fir [trees]. Come down from atop the fir [trees], atop the kog la46 [trees]. Come down from atop the kog la [trees], atop the bamboo. Come down from atop the bamboo, atop the villages and strongholds. Come down from atop the villages and strongholds, atop the ocean of choicest beer. Come down from atop the ocean of choicest beer, atop the mountain of choicest grain. Today, bring tshe for the people requesting tshe! Bring cattle for the people requesting cattle! Bring provisions for the people requesting provisions! We did not offer too early. Nor are we too late. We are offering at the right time.47 As soon as chanting of the itinerary was completed, the lhami again prostrated three times. The ritual specialists then imagined Gurzhe and his siblings to be resting atop the nearest lha shing tree at Tsango, looking down upon them while receiving the Chang phud offering of nakpa which is then given on a small stone slab altar while chanting the offering rite. The Chang phud chant (fig. 11, no. 3) is very long

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and repetitive, with extensive lists of mundane requests spoken to the lha. Here I translate only the first quarter of it, which represents the bon shaman’s welcoming address to the lha when the latter first arrive at the altar to commence each festival: At the Pho-brang-rgyab,48 There are nine cooks. Gurzhe, Have food! Have plenty! Behind the back, hasn’t there been bad talk? Haven’t there been curses by the gdon [spirits]? Block our enemies! Eliminate illness! Block [harmful] wild animals! Didn’t we worship a hundred lha? Wasn’t bad and worse done? To you, from the sky Suffering has come to the earth, And so forth. With that suffering, I thought night was [like] day, and I thought day was [like] suffering.49 I have cleansed my mouth and cleansed my hands. I am making purifying smoke. Above, I will not support the lamas. Below, I will not give to the beggars. I made a promise to the villagers. I made it to the whole community. I made it to the small groups. Those who are impure, I will purify. Those who are unclean, I will cleanse. I will act according to the rules. I will abide by the actual rules. The golden dongthan will be resplendent! The silver dongthan will be resplendent! The conch dongthan will be resplendent! The copper dongthan will be resplendent! The iron dongthan will be resplendent! Today, we have not offered too early. Nor are we too late. We are offering at the right time.

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

Accept it, highest and superior ones. The highest ones who abide here now, The benevolent, highest ones who are our principals, The masters and their retinues of servants, Into their mouths, we offer and present this ocean of choicest beer!50 Kho khe! Kho khe! Kho khe! 51 After each such unit of the chant, the lhami cast a small quantity of the nakpa towards the lha shing three times. When the Chang phud was completed, the lha were sent back up into the sky above sNyong La peak, to repose there in a ‘holding pattern’ in the sky until the Lhamoche festival began exactly one month later. In contrast to the Bsangs bsangs rabs, both the Lha zhu rabs and Chang phud rites are chanted in the local Dzala dialect, albeit with specific vocabulary items borrowed from Classical Tibetan, including numbers, cosmological terms and a few stock phrases. In contrast to the local version of the Sgam chen pha wang rabs used during Day Five of the Lhamoche (see below), which maintains the regional mythical scheme of thirteen levels for the sky world, the Tsango Lha zhu rabs exceptionally includes an eighteen-level scheme. To my present knowledge, this scheme of eighteen levels of the sky is entirely unique to sites along the Khoma Chu valley and occurs in only one other tradition along the entire extended eastern Himalayas. It is the fundamental cosmographic scheme of the vertical sky world in all shamanic rites and myths in the dtô-mbà ritual culture of the Naxi in north-west Yunnan,52 and I will take up the question of such comparisons in chapter 17. A second point of significance concerning Tsango’s Lha zhu rabs is the itinerary in the transition phase between sky world and earth world. Of interest is the lhami’s downward sequence of names extending below the first level of the sky world – the cosmic mountain, gTsang La-stod, gTsang Lasmad, and the realm of intermediate space (bar snang khams) or atmosphere – until the snow mountains and heights of sNyong La, which is the first highland point within local geography. For those who know their cultural history of

Tibet, the names gTsang La-stod and gTsang La-smad suggest areas in western Central Tibet, and thus a highly unlikely initial point of ‘lift-off’ and ‘touch down’ very far removed from the research region.53 However, in this context gTsang La-stod and gTsang La-smad are clearly not terrestrial place names since they occur above the atmospheric realm. Rather, such gTsang names reflect references to an ancient concept of ancestral realms related to Phy[w]a and lha beings up the vertical cosmic axis. Several Old Tibetan documents mention Kha-la rTsang-stod, rTsang-stod and rTsang-smad names as sites of the Phy[w]a beings who are said to be lords of rTsang but also lha. In one such narrative, Phy[w]a envoys must depart rTsang-smad on a journey up to the sky to visit the dMu.54 In Tsango’s Lha zhu rabs, these gTsang names are a unique and clear indicator of continuity in ritual culture between the cult and ca. eleventh century rites related to gaining life that we know of from the same general region, namely The Ste’u and Sha slungs texts analysed in chapter 15. They include a descending, thirteen stage ritual itinerary passing through sky levels, the central cosmic mountain, the realm of intermediate space, highland topography and tree species almost the same as Tsango’s Lha zhu rabs, while the new life being inducted along this itinerary derives from ancestral realms such as Kha-la rTsang-stod, Bar-yul identified as the intermediate space, celestial domains of lha and phya, and so forth.

Mangromshe Divination The first major rite of Lhamoche directed at all the worshippers is an annual divination (mo) using grain and performed on behalf of the community on the third day of the eleventh month. The so-called Mangromshe provides general omens (rtags) about the fortunes of Khomakang and Dingchung settlements for the coming year. On the twenty-eighth day of the tenth lunar month, the lhami collected a small sample of each locally harvested grain crop from every household in Khomakang and Dingchung. The following day, he moved up to Tsango with this grain mixture (’bru sna) and took it to a site just below the dongthan of Kupilang where a flat rock sits directly beneath a tree. The

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divination is performed upon this rock. There, the lhami mixed several items he had prepared into the grain, including a piece of charcoal, a stone, seeds of broomcorn millet (chong), and a stalk of a local plant named namru. The edible wild namru plant grows at higher altitudes and can be used as a vegetable if need be, such as times of shortage or famine. The grain was then poured into a type of pot called karkey so that it formed a pyramid some twenty-five centimetres high within which the four items are contained. The lhami then chanted very briefly over the grain pyramid and placed three sticks of incense atop the pile. He then performed the long, all-purpose chant called Dzamling shida described above. When the chant was over, the pot containing the grain pyramid was encircled by a makeshift fence. A covering was then placed over the top of the whole structure such that no animals, not even insects, would be able to disturb it. The Tsango herders are forbidden to graze any cattle in the vicinity for the same reason. The divination grain must remain undisturbed like this for three full days and nights, after which the lhami returned to it on the third day of the eleventh month to open the structure and read the omens in the grain. One man from each household of Khomakang and Dingchung should attend to observe the lhami’s reading, but nowadays attendance has dwindled to merely a few people as interest in the divination has declined. The fence and covering were opened to expose the pyramid of grain and the omens interpreted. The incumbent lhami, Nyima Dorji, was taught how to interpret the omens in the past by his paternal grandfather Meme Samten, and he can give the following readings. If any of the incense sticks atop the grain have fallen it means obstacles will appear for the country’s leader that year. If the footprints of rats are detected upon the grain pile, it means war will come to the country. If the grain pile looks like it has subsided from the top down, then no problems will arise in the country. If the piece of charcoal inside the pile has come out, it means that there will be fire accidents in the community. If the stone has come out, then there will be a flood. If the namru herb has come out, then local crops will have a poor yield leading to shortage, and so wild vegetables like namru will have to be gathered and eaten. If the chong seed has comes out,

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then it means considerable obstacles will appear for the lhami himself during the year. Additionally, the success of the different crops can be read, as well as the optimal direction in which to plant them so that good harvest yields are obtained. Closely similar annual community grain divinations performed during Srid-pa’i lha worship occur elsewhere in the Khoma Chu and upper Kuri Chu valleys, and I have observed them performed during festivals in the Monyul Corridor as well.

9.6 Festival Day One The main festival began on the twelfth day of the eleventh lunar month when the lhami travelled with all his ritual equipment from his home in Khomakang up to Tsango, where he met the umkha with his horn. Together they performed the opening rites of the Lhamoche, a public divination for individual community members and the Lha zhu or invitation of the Srid-pa’i lha to descend from the sky to the site of worship. At this stage, relatively few worshippers were already present at Tsango, primarily relatives of the two ritual specialists as well as those who were residing there with their cattle for winter grazing. The alternate title for the lhami is gong ma, and people at Tsango now began to use that title to address him and did so for the remainder of the festival period. Gong ma is an item from the special cryptolect vocabulary that must be employed by all participants during Lhamoche, although this must strictly begin only on Day Two.

Kalang Divination During the early afternoon, the first rite of the festival was a public divination called Kalang that took place near the Tashiding dongthan, at a small, makeshift altar atop a long, flat stone facing the sNyong La mountain to the east. The main purpose of this divination was to give annual omens for individual persons and families who are absent from the community because they have migrated out to live and work elsewhere. First, the lhami and umkha approached the altar standing and used fumigation by incense smoke to

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purify themselves, the offerings they were to present and the site itself. Still standing, the lhami offered chang phud to the Srid-pa’i lha and a host of other deities using an alcoholic ‘soup’ called nakpa. This nakpa mixture resembles a thick stew or soup of fermented millet flour (zan) fortified with other ingredients, such as butter or fresh white cheese, and is often consumed warm or hot.55 The nakpa was afterwards used to perform the divination. The umkha then called the deities to attention by sounding his horn. The long chant used for offering the chang phud is named Dzamling shida, which I described above. While chanting this as they stood, both the lhami and umkha continuously rang gshang flat bells. The ritual specialists then sat at the low stone slab altar. Family members of absent persons came to the lhami and recited the names of all those for whom the divination was intended, and those name lists were very long in some cases,

covering whole family networks. The lhami then chanted the first names on the list followed by the phrase para mara meaning ‘and so forth’ to bracket all the names told to him, and then he cast his divination. To do this, he took clean leaves which are long and slightly boat-shaped picked from a particular tree, then applied a teaspoonful of the nakpa mixture offered as chang phud onto the leaf ’s centre and placed the leaf carefully upon his altar before him (pl. 106). If the nakpa mixture remained centred and upright on the surface of the leaf, it was a positive omen for the coming year, and if it fell to one or other side, it was negative. There were only positive readings given. This technique is a variation of ‘leaf toss’ divination found virtually everywhere Srid-pa’i lha worship occurs, when a leaf or device made from leaves is tossed into the air and lands upon one side or the other to provide the reading (see ch. 10).

ê Plate 106. Kalang divination results from Day One of Lhamoche, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

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9.7 Festival Day Two Day Two is when the bulk of participants arrive at Tsango with all their belongings and provisions and settle into their cattle huts for the festival. The lhami himself, together with all his ritual equipment, moved into his own private hut called the lha brang. There he ate and slept during the entire festival, to distance himself domestically from the public while he functions full-time as chief ritual specialist. None of the other supporting ritual specialists takes this step. Once in his lha brang, the lhami purified himself and his equipment fully using the fumigation rite already described above. Late in the day, once the bulk of participants had arrived at Tsango, the lhami and an assistant circulated around every hut and every single person present, including all those who had arrived on previous days, with a pan of smoking incense to fumigate them. The purification is primarily performed to remove any birth and death pollution (skye grib shi grib) people may have been exposed to prior to arrival, for this is considered highly offensive to the Srid-pa’i lha. Those being purified must observe complete silence while the rite is taking place. All participants strongly believed that if anyone enters the area of Tsango during Lhamoche without being purified in this way, then it will snow, there will be gales or storms, and people will become ill. When a person enters Tsango during Lhamoche without being purified, and this becomes known, then the entire population there must once again undergo the fumigation rite. I observed how some latecomers arriving at the edge of the Tsango clearing during the festival, were held back there by other participants until the lhami could come and administer the fumigation rite for them at this invisible boundary of the ritual space. As soon as the purifications were completed, the election of the trimpön or ritual marshals took place. The lhami and the five khyem Ama met in a hut and formed a committee to choose two men for the trimpön role. Once these men have been appointed, several behavioural rules immediately come into force which everyone present without exception must observe until the festival is completed. There are fines for any breaches, usually a cash payment of

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150 Ngultrim plus some alcohol. These rules include points about not fighting or arguing, maintaining decorous behaviour, a complete taboo on using transistor radios (which herders often keep in their huts), the need to become refumigated to remove pollution if one leaves the immediate area of Tsango for any reason and then returns, avoidance of all agricultural work, a cessation of all Buddhist practice, and so forth. These rules are almost identical with those observed at most Srid-pa’i lha festivals around the region. But the rule that was only applied at Tsango and certain immediately neighbouring festivals along the Khoma Chu valley and previously at Bumdeling in the Kholong Chu valley, is the use of a cryptolect vocabulary of ‘code’ words and short phrases. As soon as the trimpön are elected, all participants must begin using the cryptolect vocabulary for appropriate topics until Lhamoche is complete.

Use of the Cryptolect In many rural communities in the Himalayas and Tibet, one can find small selections of ‘secret’ words and expressions being used to obscure meanings from those outside the speakers’ social unit. However, use of well-developed and extensive cryptolects is far less common across the wider region. I once recorded northern Tibetan pastoralists who went hunting using a cryptolect, while a different cryptolect is used when harvesting salt in the same area.56 In both those cases, the purpose was to avoid explicitly addressing such productive activities so as not to upset local deities who are related to the resources being harvested. My informants explained the local cryptolect used during Lhamoche at Tsango as having a similar purpose, which I will discuss shortly. It is usually referred to with the expressions lha’i gsang gtam or ‘secret talk of the lha’ and lha skad meaning ‘lha language’, both of which reflect the Tibetan ritual language. A closely related cryptolect was also formerly used during the Srid-pa’i lha festival staged at Da and Seb in the Bumdeling area of the upper Kholong Chu valley, where the dialect of Dzala is like that of the upper Khoma Chu valley. Since the Bumdeling festival ceased over half a century ago, only a short list of words and expressions were recalled there by elderly informants, but enough to confirm

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

that the cryptolects for both areas were highly similar. We can note that, while migrants from old Tsango had resettled at Longkhar in Bumdeling, the residents of Da and Seb who used a cryptolect represented separate Srid-pa’i lha worship community. A smattering of words from other closely related cryptolects are still used lower down the Khoma Chu valley, at Lawa village and within the Khoma collective of five villages. As at Bumdeling, it is only older informants at these Khoma Chu valley locations who still know such words. Of all the sites just mentioned, the Tsango cryptolect vocabulary actively used during Lhamoche at the time of my fieldwork is by far the most extensive and the best known by most members of any worship community, and the richest and most sophisticated cryptolect I have come across within the entire region. The interpretation of the lha’i gsang gtam cryptolect by informants at Tsango was that whatever one says during the period of the Lhamoche festival, when the lha has been invited down to the site of worship, those words can or will come to pass due to the creative potency of the lha. The cryptolect is used to obviate unwanted occurrences or manifestations related to words inadvertently spoken by festival participants, and thus strongly reflects the popular notion that the ritual space is charged with vitality. For example, if one utters the normal names for various wild animals, they may appear, and then harm livestock, ravage crops or even threaten human life. If death or accidents are discussed using normal vocabulary, then they might indeed transpire. While this is the expected cultural explanation for the given context, the actual diversity and ingenuity of the Tsango cryptolect (see appx. F) strongly suggest that it once had other, far more mundane purposes. The crucial period in which the cryptolect must be used begins during the evening of Day Two, from the time the trimpön are appointed, although this starting point is intended to ensure its use is already enforced during the palo rites conducted later that same evening (see below). Cryptolect use extends until Day Six, up to the precise point when the lhami and other ritual specialists who wear the rigs lnga crown all divest themselves of this item following the final farewell given to Gurzhe at the Khomagyan dongthan.

From that point in time also, people may again turn on any transistor radios kept in their huts, the use of which is banned while the cryptolect is used for the same reasons certain spoken words publicly broadcast via the radio may produce unwanted effects as if participants at the festival had uttered them. Appendix F contains a glossary and analysis of the Tsango cryptolect, thus a few examples will suffice here to reveal its linguistic character. The spoken word for ‘bear’ – a potentially dangerous animal in the Khoma valley – is wam in local Dzala dialect (this word is in fact regionally common across languages), whereas the cryptolect equivalent is spoken mlengbula, literally ‘the black [mlengbu] one [la]’. Similarly, ‘snake’ normally spoken mré or mrékaling in Dzala is cryptolect puta, this latter term (also putang) being a widely used name in various regional languages for the long and often thick buckwheat flour noodles made throughout eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. The cryptolect has two terms for ‘alcohol’, nyurma for the fermented beer normally called chang, and sagpo for distilled alcohols that are conventionally called ara. Nyurma is literally ‘the crazy one’ from the common word for ‘crazy’ or ‘madness’ (cf. Kurtöp ɲ ú, Dakpa nyosu, CT myos byed ‘liquor’ lit. ‘make crazy’), while sagpo means ‘the clear one’ in Dzala (cf. Dakpa saugp). The Dzala word for ‘stream’ in the sense of a flowing river or spring is spoken tshi or tshirong, whereas the cryptolect expression is jugri, literally ‘it is running’. This is derived from a regionally common verb stem jug ‘to run’, ‘to hurry’ (cf. Kurtöp juk, CT rgyug) which refers to the actions of humans and animals with legs, with the hearsay enclitic ri used with verbs in Kurtöp. In the few examples above, much of the code formation inherent in lha’i gsang gtam employs two principles used either alone or in combination: words based upon obvious characteristics and/or effects of the object or phenomenon being referred to; and borrowed words or constructs from more distant areas/languages, but which are in fact understood at Tsango. In conversation at the Lhamoche festival, lha’i gsang gtam words and expressions were interwoven with the local form of colloquial Dzala, always depending upon which words or topics needed to be obscured. The

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cryptic substitutions can involve alternative nouns, adjectives and verbs. An example with a verb change is the simple question Yara bogma wa? or ‘Are [you] going up?’ in Tsango Dzala. When spoken in cryptolect form it becomes Yara drilma wa? literally meaning ‘Are [you] combining with up?’ This form uniquely employs the verb dril (cf. T dril ba ‘combine’, ’gril ba ‘together with’) to obscure the real meaning. However, no lengthy or complex sentence composed entirely out of cryptolect components was recorded (see appx. F). Informant explanations for actual use of lha’i gsang gtam encoding during the Lhamoche festival are what one would expect within the context of local cosmology. However, it should also be considered that this cryptolect developed out of a past social history that the ritual context alone cannot account for. In chapter 16, I investigate one set of origins for the Srid-pa’i lha cult in terms of small groups of migrants with a distinct ethnolinguistic profile arriving and settling in high valley systems such as the Khoma Chu. They would have been foreign outsiders, and perhaps the cryptolect is a relic of various social barriers that were maintained between them and some already established neighbouring populations. As mentioned above, both the Tsango and Longkhar communities with the best developed examples of the cryptolect have remained socially isolated from their neighbours in various ways.

Palo Rites During the dark of evening, the three palo devices were constructed and presented at Tsumgung dongthan. The rites are referred to as ‘raising up the palo’ (pa lo yar bzhengs). The original, written Pa lo rabs (or Spa lo rabs) relating the origins of, and materials for fabricating a palo found and chanted at other sites in Khoma is no longer extant at Tsango. It was likely lost in the same fire that destroyed other manuscripts for Srid-pa’i lha worship at old Tsango during the past. With no version committed to memory, it can no longer be chanted. As a result, persons who know how to assemble a palo must be present at each festival to

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instruct others in the proper method. The construction materials and form are essentially the same as described in chapter 7 for the palo at Lawa. At Tsango, all the wooden parts from the palo of the past Lhamoche are kept so that any parts that must be renewed can be replicated to their exact specifications. Construction of the palo is always undertaken directly at the flat tsumgung stones that give Tsumgung dongthan its name. In the general chaos of festival preparations and moving all participants up to Tsango, the cock whose feathers were to be plucked for the palo had been left behind in Khomakang. Following a discussion of this oversight, strips of coloured cloth were tied to the horizontal struts and the strings of the palo’s central ‘fan’ instead of the usual feathers. Then, one man was deputed to travel back down to Khomakang during the night to fetch the cock, so that by the time the main rites of Day Three began the following morning its feathers could be added to the palo. The three palo devices were assembled by ten o’clock in the evening, when the main pa lo yar bzhengs rites commenced. All the ritual specialists and their assistants formed up in a long line in front of the old ruined house walls at Tsumgung. The lhami and drong occupied the central positions, while the lha’i bu stood to their right, and the three palopa to their left, each holding their palo aloft. Then the drong began a rousing chant entitled Lha’i gtam or Tale of the lHa, spoken in Tsango Dzala influenced by Tibetan. This richly colloquial narrative combines pithy references to the origins of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, its myths and rites, and the local worship community, all set within a context of regional geography and religious history on the one hand, with humorous allusions to the core meanings of the Lhamoche festival on the other. Most persons who were present at Tsango gathered around a small bonfire at Tsumgung to listen to the chant. The drong began chanting each set of explanatory verses with the exclamation ‘O!’, while at the finish of each verse set all the other ritual specialists standing in the line emphatically voiced their affirmative refrain, ‘O lags so!’ meaning ‘Oh yes!’ The text is as follows (fig. 11, no. 4):

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

There is a story, that if you don’t say three words then father and son won’t recognise each other. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! If you don’t go up and down, you won’t recognise the road between China and Tibet. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! Oh! Human beings manifested then flourished. Cattle manifested then propagated. Clothing manifested then became widespread. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! Oh! If we say that younger brother Gurzhe is a great and powerful lha, then we can say that he came from over yonder, from within the Dakpa Tshosum,57 carrying a liquor pot upon his back, cradling a chicken called Lab Zhomo58 in his lap, driving an ox called Gyang Tala59 in front of him,60 and with the secret spell [called] Phikpa Tshigsum placed under his tongue. Isn’t this how he came? Oh yes! Oh! Then, when we say he came from over yonder, his elder brother Namdorzhe followed him. They arrived at the pass of Cuthangar,61 then [Gurzhe] made a promise to his elder brother there. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! Oh! Then, human beings manifested and flourished. Cattle manifested and propagated. Clothing manifested and became widespread. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! Oh! If we talk about the Kholong valley over yonder, it’s like this.

Oh yes! Oh! At the top, there is the Riksum Monastery.62 In the middle, there is the Shakshing Monastery.63 At the bottom, there is the Yongla Monastery.64 There are one hundred and eight monasteries, one hundred and eight relic shrines, one hundred and eight walls inscribed with religious texts, one hundred and eight votive flagpoles, and one hundred and eight [deposits of] votive tablets. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! When the [people of Kholong valley] utter with their mouths, and see with their eyes, they have faith [in Buddhism] in their hearts, and they circumambulate the ritual circuits with their bodies. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! Oh! If we talk about our Kuru valley65 here, it’s like this. Oh yes! At the top, there is the Nemkhar Monastery.66 In the middle, there is the Karphu Monastery.67 At the bottom, there is the Chusa Monastery.68 There are one hundred and eight monasteries, one hundred and eight relic shrines, one hundred and eight walls inscribed with religious texts, one hundred and eight votive flagpoles, and one hundred and eight [deposits of] votive tablets. Isn’t it so? Oh yes! Oh! Furthermore, if we talk about our dongthan of Tsumgunglang here, at the top, we don’t want any temple, and at the bottom, we don’t want any relic shrine. Moreover, the commands and discourses of the great and powerful lha, younger brother Gurzhe, are what we firmly abide by. Isn’t it so?

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Oh yes!

of their ‘singular livid ones’ [i.e., clitorises],70 drops of fluid arise, it’s like this.

Oh! When we see with ours eyes, and utter with our mouths, we circumambulate a ritual circuit [around this dongthan] with our bodies. Isn’t it so?

Oh yes!

Oh yes!

Oh! Now, when we gather, the lha gather. When we are happy, the lha are happy. There must be happiness and joy, Ha ha! Hi hi!

Oh! When we gather, the lha gather. When we are happy, the lha are happy. There is no knocking and banging [to disturb the lha]. When the elders explain something, their juniors must listen, and when the juniors explain something, their elders must listen!

Oh yes! When you measure butter, you must measure it with the ‘finger of jewel’ of the patriarchs and the fathers.

Oh yes!

Oh yes!

Oh! Now, if we talk about how the patriarchs and fathers are getting spruced up [for the Lhamoche festival], it’s like this.

When you measure flour, you must measure it facing towards phu Nyongla. Oh yes!

Oh yes! Oh! When they comb their hair, it is smoothed downwards. When they comb their eyebrows, they are brushed across. When they comb their pubic hair, it is raked upwards. In between, salty butter is smeared here and there. From the tops of their ‘fingers of jewel’ [i.e., phalluses],69 drops of fluid arise, it’s like this. Oh yes! Oh! If we talk about how the matriarchs and mothers are getting dressed up, it’s like this. Oh yes! Oh! When they comb their hair, it is smoothed downwards. When they comb their eyebrows, they are brushed across. When they comb their pubic hair, it is raked upwards. When [a penis] goes up [inside them] their heads are awry. When it goes down [withdrawing from them], their legs are unsteady. In between, salty butter is smeared here and there. From the tips

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Beneath the heights of Nyongla, and above the valley floor of Gangru, [here] at the dongthan of Tsumgunglang there are no arguments and fights, so it’s Ha ha! Hi hi! If you worship, worship the lha. If you chant, chant the rites (bon). Isn’t it so? Oh yes!71 Participants easily comprehended the allusions to ritual conduct, and the core meanings of the Lhamoche in these Lha’i gtam verses. These allusions include the suspension of all Buddhist practice in favour of attention to the lha, the community prohibition on social discord and agricultural work whose noise and activity disturb the lha, and the efforts participants make to appear clean and smart for the worship. Concerning the festival’s meaning, the sexual references are the most important. The line ‘salty butter is smeared here and there’ refers to the common ritual practice of smearing butter upon the bodies of the participants to transfer the lha’s fertilising powers directly to them, but also to the act of sexual intercourse.

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

During the night, the tone of allusions set by the Lha’i gtam continued to be elaborated in other speech acts. As groups of new worshippers arrived at Tsango with their belongings to settle in for the festival, young people could be heard singing a greeting song to welcome them: Wayo! Wayo! Fuck, fuck! Make a baby! Make a son! Make a daughter! If it’s a son, may he have eighteen testicles! If it’s a daughter, may she have eighteen clitorises!72 The number eighteen here is a clever cosmological reference. Nine, here doubled, is an ideal number for representing the essentials of life (see ch. 14), but in context it also refers to the unique Tsango tradition of eighteen levels of the sky world that the Srid-pa’i lha must traverse to bring fertility to the bodies of their human worshippers. The song also expresses the hope for conceptions and children to be born following ritual contact with the lha during the Sifu fertility rites performed on Day Five of Lhamoche.

9.8 Festival Day Three The rites staged at the Kupilang dongthan during Day Three represent the first involving the entire worship community. Due to the cold and light snow overnight, the proceedings began when the sun was higher, with both trimpön walking around the huts at Tsango ringing their flat bells and calling everyone to prepare for the festival. All the ritual specialists made their way to the Shotakang spring next to Tsumgung dongthan. They performed ablutions using the spring water, but they especially washed their hands and mouths as is the ritual requirement for Srid-pa’i lha specialists everywhere prior to performing. The specialists then assembled at the ruins of the Budeling house above Tsumgung, carefully circling to the left of the tsumgung stones as they passed them by. They donned their full costumes, and when ready, descended back to the tsumgung stones in a ranked procession while being heralded by the umkha’s horn. A group of young boys and men, eight in total, headed the line and swept the procession path with sticks of Artemisia.

Then followed the fumigation specialist bearing a large pan containing smoking incense, the three palopa each holding their palo devices aloft, the lhami and finally six lha’i bu. These performers spent the entire day together as a ritual unit. Their procession circumambulated the tsumgung stones, climbed to the Namsalang dongthan, and passed on to the upper part of Kupilang dongthan, where it came to a halt for the first major rites – a fumigation rite performed with a circular bro movement performance, a specific chant and display of the palo devices.

Myth and Rite of the Yizhin Norbu Those ritual specialists not included in the procession, namely the drong, debjön, umkha and tsangmi, together with one trimpön, formed a separate group assembled at the Rimolang dongthan. Rimolang represents the site at which a foundational mythical event once took place – the bringing of the carcass of a hunted goral called the Yizhin Norbu to be offered to two Srid-pa’i lha, primarily to Ribumo, but also to her younger brother Gurzhe. The event was reenacted by the drong and his group, and constituted a key rite performed during Day Three (see below). The Yizhin Norbu offering is a form of nawan or wild meat offering, and its performance during Lhamoche represented one of only a very few relatively well-preserved nawan rites still being practiced within the research region. Rimolang dongthan is located in dense forest further down the slope from lower Kupilang, and is the only dongthan not comprising an area of clearing or ‘sacred grove’ with open sky above it. Rimolang means ‘Ribumo’s Field’, referring to the name of the female deity abu (‘elder sister’) Ribumo or the ‘Bamboo girl/daughter’ who is reckoned by some informants as Gurzhe’s sibling, and thus has Srid-pa’i lha status. The unique lha shing-type support for her farewell rites consists of a line of seven fresh cut canes of leafy ri bamboo implanted in the earth (pl. 107). The ri species of bamboo after which Ribumo herself is named is associated with the habitat of the goral, the wild goat whose carcass constitutes the Yizhin Norbu offering. Thus, female deity, bamboo and goral stand in close ecological and symbolic association. Ribumo is the lha who presides over game like wild goat, and who enables

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î Plate 107. The seven bamboo canes of abu Ribumo erected behind the stone slab altar and phallic post at lower Kupilang, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

hunters’ success in the hunt for them. The myth underlying the Yizhin Norbu offering, and some of the known history of its recent transformations will now be related. The dongthan name Kupilang literally means ‘Kupi’s Field’. It derives from a local narrative about two brothers, Kupi and Kapi, a pair of primordial hunters. Their myth features well-known motifs typical of Himalayan foundation myths from throughout the wider region, including the movement/migration of fraternal siblings, and hunting or hunters – but especially the chase after a wild animal during a hunt – all related to foundational events.73 Different informants related slight variations of the narrative of Kupi and Kapi. A paraphrase of one version I recorded is as follows:74 Kupi and Kapi were a pair of brothers from the Yemo Yarlung75 region of southern Tibet. While hunting, they travelled as far south as the Khoma Chu valley.

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Their arrival had been foretold during the past by Bonjü . He was a boy bonpo who was the original ritual specialist, and the founder of Gurzhe worship at Tsango. The two brothers descended the Khoma Chu while chasing a goral. They arrived at a site named Pla Ming Emay upon a high and steep rock cliff on the west side of the valley, opposite the settlement areas of old Tsango. At Pla Ming Emay, they finally managed to kill the goral that had been the quest of their chase. Due to this, they named the animal Yizhin Norbu (‘Wish-Fulfilling Gem’).76 Kupi and Kapi then carried the Yizhin Norbu’s carcass down to a site named Traidung (‘Rocky Ridge’).77 There, and at another site further downstream called Shiling, they displayed the carcass to the strongholds of Tsango directly across the river, burning incense and blowing their horns (um) to announce that they had killed the Yizhin Norbu. They repeated the same procedure

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

further down the valley at a small hill named Umbudma (‘Horn Blower’) to alert the Tsango residents that they had made the kill. Kupi and Kapi then carried the carcass up to Tsango wrapped in a clean, white scarf, and during the Lhamoche festival they offered the Yizhin Norbu in thanks to the lha. This short narrative contains many significant references when viewed from both regional and local perspectives. For one, it invokes the same southward migration route as the main origin narrative of the Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru clans who first introduced Srid-pa’i lha worship into the region. This clan origin narrative, translated in full in chapter 16, or fragments of it, can be found in manuscripts and oral traditions used for Srid-pa’i lha worship throughout both the Dzala and Dakpa speaking zones, including Tsango and neighbouring sites. The same route also features in the local origin myth of the first bon shaman named Bonjü presented already in chapter 4. The name Kupi is highly significant. In Khoma dialects of Dzala and in Kurtöp, kupi is the name for one species of ‘cuckoo’ bird (cf. Khengkha cupeng; CT khu byug). The migratory cuckoo and its distinctive call both feature many times in rabs for Srid-pa’i lha worship. They are a key herald of the lha’s presence, and go-between with the lha at the top of the sky. In this latter function, the bird is an auxiliary and extension of the ritual specialist himself. In the research region the cuckoo is simply one of the shamanic bird species par excellence, a status it also has for shamans in highland Nepal78 and parts of Siberia. The special place name Pla Ming Emay at which the hunting brothers first arrive in the Himalayan valley is very similar to Pla-names for ancient clan ancestral deities of the Dakpa population at Lhau in the Tawang region, such as Konlo Pla Dakpa and Mingkhar Plang Mebu (ch. 12). And, of course, the burning of incense and sounding of the horn are exactly how the Srid-pa’i lha deities such as Gurzhe are welcomed down from the sky world to earth. The fact that these rites were repeated consecutively at three sites directly opposite Tsango reflects the three original settlement units which once comprised old Tsango, and each of which is still represented within the Lhamoche by a separate palo device and lha shing.

The narrative of Kupi and Kapi also explains why a dead wild animal is presented to the Srid-pa’i lha during Lhamoche. This offering of a hunted goral called Yizhin Norbu is locally described as being nawan. At Tsango, nawan is said to be the cryptolect word for ‘meat’ – normally sha – that should be spoken during the festival. In addition to ‘meat’, nawan can also generally refer to any positive talisman that is intimately related to animals, and especially wild species, and this meaning also applies to the Yizhin Norbu’s carcass that serves as the nawan during the Lhamoche. More generally, in many Srid-pa’i lha worship communities throughout the region nawan designates a set of rites to gain success in hunting, and on which further comparative data is given in chapter 13. According to various elderly male participants at Lhamoche, this nawan offering of the goral carcass named Yizhin Norbu has undergone a process of change during living memory, for which we can identify three main phases. These will now be reviewed to understand what was observed at Rimolang and Kupilang during 2012, as well as to give an example of how Srid-pa’i lha worship can be transformed and why. The oldest male worshippers recall how, as teenagers and young men, at the very beginning of the whole process required for a Lhamoche festival a ritualised hunt for a goral called Yizhin Norbu was staged. Every two years, on the twelfth day of the tenth lunar month, the lhami would go to Tsango and invite Gurzhe and the Srid-pa’i lha down to earth using a verbal ritual journey as is still the case today. But during the past, on the following or thirteenth day, the lhami always proceeded alone up to a remote cave among the steep cliffs above Dingchung, high up on the west side of the valley opposite Tsango. This is the same location as the site of Pla Ming Emay at which the legendary hunting brothers from the north, Kupi and Kapi, had first killed the Yizhin Norbu. This cave is named Lhami Nyema or ‘The Lhami’s Sleep’,79 since the lhami used to stay overnight performing what was described as ‘contemplation’ or ‘imagining’ (sgom) there. Cliffs surround this cave. Yet, there is a narrow rock path leading to its mouth and along which animals or persons can walk to enter the cave’s mouth. The lhami used to sit concealed in the rocks up above this

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path, at a point from where he could observe the mouth of the cave. He would wait there for a goral to arrive and enter the cave. My informants noted that the lhami at the time used his secret spell called Phig pa tshig gsum to take power over any nearby goral and make them enter the cave. It is still strongly believed that the secret spell can accomplish such a result. Once a goral entered the cave, the lhami simply had to stand on the narrow path and the animal would no longer be able to leave again. Early the following morning, that of the fourteenth day, all the lha’i bu would arrive with weapons and ask the lhami whether an animal was in the cave or not. If yes, they would go in with clubs and beat it to death. The dead animal then served as the Yizhin Norbu for the Lhamoche. Its carcass would be carried down and placed into the pool of a freezing mountain stream, weighed underwater by heavy rocks, as a form of cold storage until the Lhamoche festival began one month later. If no goral appeared at the cave during the lhami’s night watch, this was attributed to the fact that either he or the lha’i bu must have been impure in some way. In that case, the lha’i bu and other village men simply hunted a goral in any likely place during the month prior to the start of Lhamoche. The carcass from any kill was then preserved in freezing stream water until the festival began. A second development of the Yizhin Norbu rites occurred when the former lhami retired several decades ago. The practice of the lhami trying to attract and trap the Yizhin Norbu animal for the lha’i bu ceased, apparently since this knowledge was not handed on to the new incumbent. After that time, village men always organised a communal hunt for any goral they could get before the festival started. This communal hunt had to be conducted with bows and arrows only and could be undertaken at any time between the thirteenth day of the tenth month and the eleventh day of the eleventh month. If a kill was made within a few days of the festival start, they did not need to preserve the carcass in a stream. In case no goral was killed by the eleventh day of the eleventh month, a sheep was killed and its carcass was used as a substitute for the Yizhin Norbu. Even today, goral in general can be referred to as Yizhin Norbu, and the ritual and economic interest in hunting them is still encoded

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in chants addressed to the Srid-pa’i lha which are repeated multiple times during a Lhamoche. For example, in the socalled Dzamling shida chant (fig. 11, no. 3), which is a very long, all-purpose offering and aspiration text recited each time a chang phud rite is performed during Lhamoche, we find these lines in the aspiration section: Give us as many Yizhin Norbu as we want! Make the muntjac, and goral, and musk deer, and jimbangla, and khotangla, and prangsibu80 fall down like stones rolling in one direction [i.e., make it easy for us to hunt and kill them]. Make the grass grow high [to slow the wild animals when chased]. Make their bodies shorter [to impede their movements]. Make the Yizhin Norbu stumble upon the rocks. Make them get stuck in the mud. Make the leeches stick on their bodies. Make their breathing laboured. Make the cows block the Yizhin Norbu. Make them fall into the traps in the bamboo.81 A third development in the Yizhin Norbu tradition occurred during 2009. In that year, a Buddhist lama named Sithar, who was based at Seng-ge rDzong, petitioned the Tsango community to stop killing any animals during the Lhamoche. He explained that it was a morally unfit activity for Buddhists such as the worshippers to be involved in.82 It is common knowledge in the region that failing to offer what a deity expects according to ritual tradition can incur its wrath, thus the lama’s approach to the issue was subtle. He advocated an experimental period using a mock animal substitute during the Lhamoche rites so that the community could judge for itself whether any of the anticipated negative consequences arose as a result. Only after the villagers were unanimous in taking responsibility for any possible negative outcomes, did the lhami consent to the proposed experiment. The use of mock animals as substitutes began with none of the anticipated wrath of the deities, and thus during the 2012 Lhamoche it was being continued without objection. The mock animals being used as ritual

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substitutes had bodies crudely fashioned from cooked millet f lour dough (zan) and covered on the top with real sheep’s wool. The torso was hollowed out and packed with a plastic or gut membrane bag filled with liquid ‘blood’ – that was in fact powdered, dried blood collected from domestic animals mixed with black tea – as well as thin strips of cloth or bandages folded up to mimic the intestines. These mock creations are called after the animal they should represent, ‘Yizhin Norbu’, ‘sheep’, and so on, and are never referred to as gtor ma, which is Buddhist technical vocabulary. Such a mock animal was used for the Yizhin Norbu nawan rites during the 2012 Lhamoche. While, in the case of the Yizhin Norbu, the Buddhist lama’s specific request to employ morally appropriate substitutes for an actual hunted wild animal in the rites was fulfilled, this had no bearing upon domestic hunting of goral during the festival. Following the Yizhin Norbu rites, the skin and meat of a freshly butchered mature animal were spread out drying in the sun next to a hut at Tsango the very next day, and we were served a hearty stew of goral meat that same evening.

Rites at Kupilang The drong and his small group of ritual specialists descended through the forest to Rimolang dongthan to prepare the Yizhin Norbu offerings. There they acted out parts of the myth of the hunting brothers Kupi and Kapi, who first took a goral carcass up to the Lhamoche, and likewise the party must carry a Yizhin Norbu from the lower site of Rimolang up to Kupilang. At the base of a large tree, the mock Yizhin Norbu animal, which was about the size of a large loaf of bread, was laid upon the ground wrapped within a cloth covering. A small fire was lit, but not for producing incense smoke. A fire must always be kindled whenever offerings are presented to the lha, and this pattern is regionally apparent as well as receiving special mention in the ritual texts. I will return to discuss it from a comparative perspective in part V. Initially, the drong, debjön, and tsangmi performed a circle of simple clockwise steps around the Yizhin Norbu,

chanting while all three, plus the trimpön standing to the side in attendance, rang their flat bells in unison throughout the five-minute performance. The Yizhin Norbu bundle was then placed within a large, white khabney ceremonial scarf and carried upon the back and shoulders of the drong, as if it bore a load such as a carcass. The umkha then began walking up through the forest while sounding his horn with the call that addresses the deities. The others followed him as he occasionally sounded his horn heralding their progress towards Kupilang dongthan, and they slowly continued their deliberate bro steps, chanting and ringing of their flat bells back up through the trees. Just before the small procession reached the open grove of lower Kupilang, where a low stone slab altar is located at the end-point of the clearing opposite the lha shing tree, a party of young boys walked ahead with Artemisia branches and swept the path as they moved towards the stone altar, circumambulated it and took their seats upon it. While the long, open clearing of Kupilang dongthan extended up the hill behind them, the three specialists sat upon the stone slab altar facing away from it, looking at the forest margin in the opposite direction, towards the location of Rimolang. The drong placed the Yizhin Norbu bundle to his left side, closest to the lha shing and the phallic post opposite him, while to his right sat the tsangmi, and to his right in turn the debjön (pl. 107). While the aforementioned Yizhin Norbu rites were being prepared and conducted down at Rimolang, at the top end of the long forest clearing on the gentle hill slope forming Kupilang dongthan, the main procession arrived from Tsumgung dongthan. There, a large fumigation fire was lit, and the lhami and all other specialists who had processed with him undertook a circular bro movement performance around this fire while chanting the Bsangs rabs used previously during preparatory phases of Lhamoche (see above). At this point, they should have also chanted a text titled Lha mi klu gsum gi skyed rgyud (or Skyed rgyud), which presents a brief cosmogonical narrative on the formation of the elements and the origin of beings. But since the schedule for the day’s rites was running late, the lhami decided to omit it. When the Bsangs rabs chant came to an end, all of a sudden the palopa passed their palo to the trimpön to hold,

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and together with the lha’i bu all raced as fast as they could down the whole length of the Kupilang clearing. The family groups who made up the bulk of the worship communities were already sitting along the sides of this ‘race course’ between upper and lower Kupilang, in clear anticipation of the event. As soon as the runners reached the stone altar and phallic post where the drong, tsangmi and debjön were seated, they began a running bro movement performance consisting of many clockwise circuits around them, continually leaping into the air, and sometimes spinning in an arch through the air as they did so. The race certainly had a competitive element; it was said that the first runner to reach the altar at lower Kupilang was the ‘winner’ and would thus gain life protection from Gurzhe for the coming three years. Hence, the great interest in this short race by all the families who were its spectators, for each wanted their scion to gain these ritual benefits. This race was merely the first in a series of competitive challenges demanding physical prowess and dexterity that the lha’i bu undertook throughout the festival. Such activities also occur at many other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship and their character is usually described with the same specific language. At Tsango and in other communities who use East Bodish tongues the style of vigorous and high-stepping movements used in such events is referred to as chong (CT mchong) literally ‘jumping’, and more specifically lhachong (and language dependant pla/cha/pchachong; CT lha mchong) or ‘lha leaping’. An alternative term found in the rabs manuscripts but no longer occurring in colloquial speech is rtsal bslang, literally to ‘rise up agilely.’ On face value, all activities so designated at Tsango amount to a collective display of virility by the pick of the community’s able-bodied young men. However, that is only partially accurate since some of the movements are obviously cases of animal mimicking, while others contain or suggest references to sexuality and fertility. This latter point is certainly revealed by parallel data from neighbouring sites. At Bumdeling immediately east of Tsango, where the Khaulha festival was more or less identical to Lhamoche, a ‘race’ was staged in which male performers both ran and jumped into the air first uphill and then downhill. While running uphill they shouted Jhang! Jhang!, which literally means to gain an

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erection, and on the downhill leg they then shouted Heyong! Heyong! referring to opening the vagina for intercourse. At Tsango, some participants somewhat curiously named the Kupilang race Geling tapho jug or ‘Gesar’s stallion race’, referring to the epic hero Ge-sar of Gling. Nowhere in the ritual texts for Lhamoche – nor in any texts used for Sridpa’i lha worship elsewhere – is Ge-sar ever mentioned. However, the stallion (rta pho) image features again in a performance during Day Four of Lhamoche that is steeped in associations with sexual intercourse and the phallus (see below). The stallion image also recurs constantly throughout the region as a symbol of fertility and sexual prowess directly connected with the Srid-pa’i lha. It appears ‘Gesar’s stallion race’ is no doubt a recent gloss upon this other significance. Once the running and jumping had subsided, the drong, tsangmi and debjön arose from their stone seats and went to stand directly in front of the seven bamboo canes set up as supports for the female deity Ribumo. The three ritual specialists then farewelled Ribumo in unison, as she was supposed to depart into the sky. They bowed deeply several times with their f lat bells in their right hands, and arose each time ringing these loudly above their heads together with a rousing call. Finally, they picked up white stones that had been placed at the base of Ribumo’s bamboo cane supports and threw them high into the air. These ritual gestures employing music and stones generated various informant interpretations. Some say the stones symbolise the ‘whip’ (CT thun) to hurry the mount of the deity skywards to its residence.83 Others compared the rite with the traditional mode of farewelling a guest from a local settlement, for which – as I experienced a few times – the hosts offer a serving of ‘goodbye’ liquor at the village boundary and remain there singing songs and waving scarves or items of clothing above their heads as the departing guest moves away. This method of ritual farewell was repeated for each main deity as they departed on subsequent days of the festival. The direction faced each time was uphill, which at Tsango means north-east, towards the sNyong La peak within whose subtle sky palace the Srid-pa’i temporarily reside before returning home to the top of the sky world.

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Requesting Tshe The drong, debjön, and tsangmi returned to sit again at the lower Kupilang altar, where the lhami joined them seated between the latter two specialists. Now began the rite locally known as ‘Requesting the Tshe of Kupi’s Field’ (Ku pi lang gi tshe zhu). The process involves both the fertilising life powers tshe and g.yang, which have become suffused into liquor and butter offered to ‘younger brother’ (zhogpo) Gurzhe, being transferred directly to the bodies of the worshippers. Moreover, at this point specific parts of the carcass of the Yizhin Norbu, which as nawan meat is suffused with ngödup (CT dngos grub) – meaning ‘worldly benefits’ (i.e., wealth and ability) – are also distributed to each worshipper. All the other ritual specialists not seated at the altar had gathered next to it and performed the accompanying chant from the ritual text titled ‘One Hundred Thousand Praises of the Dongthan Kupilang’ (Dong rtan ku pi langs gi bstod ’bum). Both lhami and drong were now seated at the altar about to dispense the empowered substances, thus a literate, senior male worshipper, who had once served as assistant to the previous lhami and learned much from him, stood holding the lhami’s manuscript and lead the chant. This chant begins with an obscure and abstract poetic description of Kupilang omitted in the translation below. It then invokes a sublime ‘stronghold’ (mkhar) – with a passing resemblance to a mandala palace in Tibetan Buddhist rites – within which the ritual specialist’s five gsas auxiliaries are arrayed together with ’O-de Gung-rgyal. Finally, it describes the latter’s ‘son’ Gurzhe descending to dispense his life powers (fig. 11, no. 9): As for the stronghold of dongthan Kupilang, [3a] It is a stronghold with four doors. Inside of the four doors, Who resides and who does not reside in there? Lha chen ’O-de Gung-rgyal resides in there. Lha chen ’O-de Gung-rgyal is handsome to behold. The dongthan has four offering goddesses. The four offering goddesses are beautiful to behold. The eastern door is a door of conch. Inside the open conch door, The internal pillars there are beyond the imagination. [2b...]

There are hundreds and thousands of decorations in there. We request our aspirations from these many ornaments. The eastern [auxiliary] Gar-gsas bTsan-po is handsome to behold. To the south is a door of precious gold. Inside the open gold door, Atop a throne supported upon an excellent horse, [3b] [The southern auxiliary] gNam-gsas Khyung-rung is seated. gNam-gsas Khyung-rung is handsome to behold. The western door is a door of copper. Inside the open copper door, Atop a throne supported upon a peacock, [The western auxiliary] gSas-rje dMar-po is seated. gSas-rje dMar-po is handsome to behold. The northern door is of turquoise. Inside the open turquoise door, Atop a throne supported upon a shang shang84 [bird], rGod-gsas bTsan-po is seated. The northern [auxiliary] rGod-gsas bTsan-po is handsome to behold. At the centre, in between these deities and doors, Atop a throne supported upon an elephant, dBal-gsas bTsan-po is seated. [4a] The [auxiliary] of the centre, dBal-gsas bTsan-po, is handsome to behold. At the four corners of that dongthan, Are the fine dwelling sites of four goddesses. The dongthan offering goddesses are beautiful to behold. At the apex of the dongthan Kupilang, The pho lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal is seated. ’O-de Gung-rgyal is handsome to behold. At the four sides of that dongthan, Are the fine dwelling sites of four female sky-goers. The four female sky-goers are beautiful to behold. The base [of the dongthan] is encircled by 100,000 minor lha. There is a heap of assorted jewels. Upon that, there is a disc of tshe. The disc of tshe is wonderful to behold.

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Upon that, there is a vase of tshe. The vase of tshe is wonderful to behold. [4b] Who is seated and who is not seated there with the tshe? The young accomplished lha’i bu are seated there. They have the vase for [obtaining] sons. Who is seated and who is not seated there? Mothers and girls are seated there. They are surrounded by 100,000 assorted jewels. They are surrounded by 100,000 tshe oceans. The highest from among the lha, The most excellent of the young accomplished lha’i bu, Is younger brother Gurzhe, who is the most powerful lha. If one imagines his riding mount, He arrives mounted upon a lamb of conch. Its legs possess discs of conch. Upon that, he descends from the sky. A mat is laid out for the descending lha. He dwells, seated within a lha house. For his mat, white woollen cloth is laid out. His body is adorned with a white silk robe. [5a] Upon his head, he wears a white turban. Upon his feet, he wears boots. Today, on the day of the lha, May the lha descend! Bringing down abundance as well. May the tshe descend! Bringing down g.yang as well. It is the day of tshe, khyu lu lu. It is the day of g.yang, me re re.85 The chant lists the prime recipients of the fertilising life powers as young males who are lha’i bu, mothers and girls, and this was indeed borne out by the proceedings. The first recipients when dispensing of life powers commenced at the altar were young lha’i bu from among the group of ritual specialists. They were followed by the five khyem Ama who represent the principal sponsoring households. After them came various younger women who were married (including one recently widowed), as well as young girls of all ages who were household members. Only once all these recipients

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had been served, did men and youths line up to receive their share. Some women took a very long time to receive the ritual substances since they also collected portions for any household member unable to attend the festival. These extra portions only comprised the solid materials, tshe butter and animal hairs, which were presented upon a forest leaf since these are considered purer than any man-made container or wrapping. In this ranked sequence, recipients approached the front of the altar while keeping it to their right, and received the ritual ingredients in the following order. Firstly, the drong gave them empowered hairs from the Yizhin Norbu carcass which each person inserted into their right ear. Second, the tsangmi and the lhami 86 smeared a pat of tshe butter directly upon the crown of each person’s head. Finally, the debjön ladled tshe liquor into the cupped palm of each person, which they immediately drank. Thus, following the vertical cosmography of Srid-pa’i lha in which tshe and g.yang flow downwards from the sky, all life powers enter the ritual sponsor’s body via the recognised portals or orifices at the very top of the body, and then descend into the reproductive and other vital organs. Additionally, following the mythic scheme of the goral carcass representing a ‘wish-fulfilling jewel’ (CT yid bzhin nor bu), any worshipper can wish for whatever worldly benefits they would like when receiving their share of the Yizhin Norbu and its ngödup blessing. During the recent past, when a real goral carcass was used for the Yizhin Norbu, in addition to its hair participants sought small pieces of the animal’s ears and the feet. The smoke from burning all these body parts is believed to have healing powers (cf. ch. 17). Another secondary practice related to the Yizhin Norbu, which also was discontinued with the recent use of a mock animal, was to have protective threads empowered by contact with the animal’s carcass. Worshippers made these threads from the bark fibres of shogshoshing,87 a bush of Daphne spp. that grows around Tsango and the same plant used in traditional paper-making. The empowered threads were then tied around the necks of domestic animals such as horses and cattle in order to protect them from harm. In all these

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

ways, the carcass and body parts of the goral serve a talismanic function. Just as each recipient stepped away from the altar, after gaining their share of the empowered substances, male worshippers who had been waiting for them to complete the rite immediately surrounded them. When it was the turn of the lha’i bu to finish, these men encouraged them to circumambulate the altar and phallic post several times and to yell out ‘Wayo wayo!’ continually as they did so. When voiced within the context of Srid-pa’i lha festivals, the Wayo wayo chant is interpreted across the region as a direct reference to sexual intercourse, and is best colloquially translated as ‘Fuck, fuck!’ without any pretence of politeness or subtlety in capturing the act itself. 88 There can be no doubt that the sound ‘Wayo wayo!’ is a case of animal mimicking. It represents the ‘bugling’ of Cervid stags during the rut. This special sound most closely resembles that made by rutting male Sambar deer (Cervus unicolor) to attract oestrus females for mating, and to warn off male competitors. The Sambar is the most widespread deer species in the research region. When it was the turn of any woman of childbearing age – including those with newborn babies strapped to their backs – to finish, the men present did the same to them as they had done to the lha’i bu, but with the addition of beating them repeatedly upon the buttocks, thighs and groin area as they made circuits around the altar. Throughout the rite, the entire worship community looked on in amusement. Most women did not conform meekly to this process, for they wrestled the men, hit them back in return or broke free and ran off, all of which generated even more mirth among the public. The beatings have a double significance in context. They are an example of the regionally observable ritual action of tshe phog or ‘imbuing with tshe’, by which the vital powers of the lha are literally driven into people’s bodies and dwellings. The beatings, as a form of public behaviour by men towards women that would be completely unacceptable beyond this ritual context, were also an unambiguous reference to sexuality for all present. These actions at Kupilang served as a validation of procreation; now that women and men had been charged with life powers rendering them fertile, they

should use them to reproduce. The rite, its symbolism and mechanics share a close resemblance to some well-known fertility rites of antiquity, with the Lupercalia festival that the ancient Romans celebrated during the ides of February being the most obvious example. Once the tshe and Yizhin Norbu rites had been completed, the public departed. Together, all the ritual specialists performed a short chant called Khribs la as a preparation for offering the Yizhin Norbu to the lha.89 At this point, I was requested to leave the immediate area while a final rite was performed. The mock carcass of the animal, still wrapped in cloth, was placed high up into the branches of Ribumo’s lha shing tree adjacent to the Kupilang altar. With that, all rites of the day dedicated to Srid-pa’i lha were completed, and the ritual performers departed the forest grove and returned to the huts of Tsango.90 Just a few years prior to my field research at Tsango, when an actual, hunted goral carcass served as the Yizhin Norbu, two additional dimensions of the rite existed – a divination, and meat distribution – which were abandoned when use of a mock animal was introduced. After the Yizhin Norbu carcass had been up in the lha shing branches for three days, it was thrown back down to the ground again, and the manner in which its body landed on the ground was read as an omen. If its head pointed upwards, this was taken as an excellent auspice for harvests and animal husbandry during the year up until the next festival. If the head pointed down, it was a negative sign. Furthermore, the liver of the Yizhin Norbu goral was then inspected for signs. If there happened to be small, fleshy growths attached to the liver, this was taken as a negative sign of trouble in the future. If the general condition of the liver was good, without fleshy growths, this was a positive sign. Following the divination using the goral it was necessary for a group of seven ritual specialists – the same number as the bamboo supports for Ribumo – to eat some of the Yizhin Norbu’s meat. This group included the lhami, drong, tsangmi, debjön, namsa and two of the lha’i bu. The meat was not distributed in any special manner, the main point

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being for this group to partake of it, otherwise the offering process itself was considered to have been incomplete. The remains of the Yizhin Norbu carcass were then requested by those members of the worship community who desired some to use as ‘ fumigation material’ (rdzas bdug). This meat or other body parts was dried and stored in the small, square woven cane baskets with fitted lids that are called beykur in this part of Bhutan. When anyone was ill, this material was burnt to create smoke, which was believed to have healing powers.

9.9

Festival Day Four

The first rites of Day Four took place after breakfast at the lha shing of Chagselang dongthan. This site is just inside the margin of the forest directly above the huts of Tsango. The Chagselang lha shing tree is locally identified as serkaling.91 The wood from tree galls on this species is famous in the

area as tsabshing, which is believed to have magical properties such as the ability to neutralise poison. Thus, this wood is highly sought after for making carved wooden bowls with which to drink alcohol outside of one’s own house when fear of receiving poison from unknown hosts is ever-present. On a small level area beneath the lha shing a crude altar of ancient appearance exists on the forest floor, formed by a row of flat stones set into the ground. A few metres above this altar, the ritual assistants constructed a second temporary altar. This took the form of a square platform of leafy branches supported about half a metre above the ground by two legs made of cut sticks (pl. 108). Variations of this type of platform altar made from fresh cut branches and foliage can be found in use at many sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship (see ch. 10). Larger versions resemble makeshift huts and are sometimes thus called brang or ‘hut’. They are always constructed in a sacred grove or under a lha shing, and when this is not the case for pragmatic reasons the platform altar itself incorporates tall, leaf branches and other types of symbolic

î Plate 108. Offering chang phud on a temporary altar, Chagselang dongthan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

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‘trees’ to substitute for a lha shing. At most sites where such altars are constructed, the square platform resembling a ‘roof ’ that is the crucial part signalling a cosmological division. Atop this platform, facing the sky above, all the main offerings given to Srid-pa’i lha on behalf of the human worship community are laid out or served. The space beneath the platform, directly upon the earth, is for a second rank of offerings, such as those made on behalf of domestic livestock or addressed to local deities. The ritual specialists present at Chagselang included the lhami, umkha, tsangmi and debjön. They were supported by the two trimpön. They conducted two main rites in succession. Firstly, there was a double offering, with a chang phud for the Srid-pa’i lha such as Gurzhe, followed by an animal sacrifice for Tsango’s place deity, the btsan sNyong La. When this was completed, a Tshe zhu ceremony was conducted. This was identical in nearly all respects to that staged at Kupilang during Day Three, with the one difference being that at Chagselang the ngödup blessings of the Yizhin Norbu were not available. The Chagselang Tshe zhu was basically a repeat of this same rite the previous day for all those participants unable to attend at Kupilang, and for those who sought additional blessings for absent family members.

Sheep Sacrifice Before I ever set foot in the Khoma valley I was informed by people from adjacent districts that the upper valley’s inhabitants had a reputation for practising animal sacrifice and hunting. This is an easily anticipated cliché about the moral lapses of one’s neighbours in a society with Buddhism as the state religion. While scattered examples of animal sacrifice are indeed found throughout Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, by all accounts its prevalence along the Khoma valley has been high. In fact, the only premodern eyewitness record of any local rites performed in the upper valley concerns animal sacrifice at Dingchung.92 Sheep are the favoured animals of sacrifice in the upper Khoma valley, while in the lower valley oxen were commonly sacrificed

during the past. When sheep are found in use at any site as sacrificial animals, it is not always obvious whether this represents an enduring practice or substitute for another type of animal. This is because across the region in so-called ‘Bon’ contexts the sheep is the standard substitute animal for deer and wild goats when the latter are not readily available for a rite.93 The ritual equivalence between the wild and the domestic species in this instance is based upon an old idea that both animals can serve as supports for g.yang life powers, thus their sacrificed bodies are both ideal transfer mediums. Following community agreement to suspend the offering of any animals which had to be killed intentionally for the Lhamoche, during the 2012 festival the sacrifice of a live sheep to sNyong La on Day Four was performed using a mock sheep.94 The entire process of the sheep sacrifice is performed by the two trimpön, the armed marshals who police the rules of public ritual conduct during Lhamoche. Thus, no hereditary or temporary ritual specialist dedicated to Srid-pa’i lha worship was directly involved. Aside from the specialists and the trimpön, no members of the public – aside from scientific observers – were present until all aspects of the sheep sacrifice had been completed. Prior to the sacrifice, the lhami alone went to the temporary altar directly beneath the lha shing and performed a chang phud offering for the Srid-pa’i lha, pouring the alcohol on top of the platform of leaves which is that section of the structure dedicated to lha (pl. 108). Nearby, upon a small fire, a fresh pot of zan millet flour porridge was cooked. The body of a mock sheep about twenty-five centimetres in length was crudely fashioned from the hot zan dough. Real sheep’s wool was applied to its back. A plastic bag containing dried animal blood that had been re-liquefied with a hot solution of black tea for realism, was sealed into the abdomen of the mock sheep, together with a bunched length of crêpe bandage to mimic the intestines. It is of more than passing interest to note that an identical method for creating a mock sacrificial victim is used at Thempang in the adjacent Mon-yul Corridor for the Hoshina sacrifice there (see ch. 17), while the same method is also employed in the dtô-mbà rites of the Naxi in northwest Yunnan.95

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î Plate 109. Offering chang phud to Namdorzhe using flower stalks at Tsumgung, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

The mock animal was placed upon a round, flat pot lid, one end of a rope was tied around its neck and the other end around a tree next to the left-hand side of the temporary altar, just as the real sheep had been tethered there when sacrificed but a few years earlier. The mock animal was then removed, turned over on its back upon a bed of fresh green leaves, and its abdomen slit open by one of the trimpön using the long Tibetan sword which he carried on his belt. This must happen while the dough and blood-tea mixture used for the mock animal are still hot, to mimic the hot flesh and blood of a real sacrifice. After the model was cut open, the blood bag was extracted by one of the trimpön and the solution it contained, plus some bits of the millet dough ‘flesh’, were mixed into a pot with hot zan to prepare an offering. The other trimpön used his sword to dismember the mock sheep lengthways and crossways into four pieces. These were deposited into the space beneath the temporary altar for sNyong La at the foot of the lha shing, together with the length of rope used to tether the sheep.

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The four ritual specialists then prepared the stone slab altar beneath the lha shing. The drong could not attend that morning, and in his stead the umkha sat at the end furthest from the sacrifice altar, his horn hung beside him upon a forked stick driven into the earth. He had freshly-brewed alcohol (bangchang) to offer the worshippers. To his left sat the lhami with a bowl of the hot zan mixture containing mock ‘flesh’ and ‘blood’ from the freshly sacrificed sheep. To his left sat the tsangmi with fresh tshe-butter, while next to him the debjön had a bowl of fresh milk. Once the four were seated, the lhami first performed the fumigation rite while chanting the Bsangs bsangs rabs. Next, the four specialists offered their respective offering substances to the Srid-pa’i lha and all other deities in the region while chanting the Dzamling shida text, which is the standard text used for all phud offerings. A feature of phud offerings at Tsango is that during such performances each specialist covers their mouths using their white khabney shawls or wide sleeves to maintain purity toward the deities (pls. 59, 109). They also

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

typically use the dried stalks and heads of certain wild flowers from the meadows (pl. 109), or fresh cut twigs of Artemisia to dispense the offering substances in front of them. Use of such wild foliage is considered the purest method possible. The same practice is found among shamans in other Himalayan contexts.96 At the time of my field studies, it was relatively rare to find domestic animal sacrifice, as opposed to hunting rites and nawan wild meat offerings, during Srid-pa’i lha worship. In fact, most offerings of domestic animals I recorded involved live release of sacrificial animals (see ch. 11). When asked to explain the sheep sacrifice at Chagselang, a range of different informants all responded in the same way. While it may be conventionally said the sacrificed sheep is for Gurzhe and the ‘great lha’ (lha chen), because they always take centre stage, it is understood that the btsan sNyong La accepts it on the lha’s behalf since he acts as the latter’s gzim dpon or ‘chamberlain’. This interpretation conforms to what is formally found in all the local texts and practices used during the festival, which do not mention blood sacrifice or animal products (not even the Yizhin Norbu), whereas local Tsango texts addressing the btsan sNyong La lHa-btsan dKar-po do explicitly mention that he is to receive generous offerings of both flesh and blood.97 Unlike the elaborate traditions behind the hunted Yizhin Norbu offering which are very well preserved by the participants, the mechanism by which the local cult of a btsan came into the Lhamoche together with its animal sacrifice has no known origins nor traditions associated with its meaning. This is because btsan rites are purely subsidiary in the context of a Srid-pa’i lha festival. They are merely something that needs to be done correctly so that local deities who are pressed into service to support the lha’s presence receive their dues and will then do nothing untoward. Members of the worship community waited at the forest margins below Chagselang until the phud offering was well in progress, and then arrived there, passing to the left of the altar while the rite continued to its completion. A woman from each household carried a bag holding a standard measure of millet grains, and these we poured by each into a large basket behind the altar. This was a collective sponsoring of

the ritual specialists by all those who came to receive Tshe zhu, and the millet was afterwards divided equally between the four men for their use. As soon as the phud rites were completed, the Tshe zhu commenced. Unlike at Kupilang the day before, the lhami now silently chanted the text of the Ku pi lang gi tshe zhu in his mind while the worshippers received their tshe and g.yang fertility substances. Just a few years earlier, when a real live sheep was killed on this day at Chagselang, the main parts of its carcass were given to the worship community and ritual specialists. The lhami had the right to receive meat from both the head and the legs. The remainder of the animal was cooked and served to all participants during the feast staged at Tsumgung dongthan later in the afternoon.

Praise Chanting at Tsumgung Around midday, the entire group of ritual specialists assembled at the Tsumgung dongthan in full costume. The lhami and drong performed ritual ablution of their mouths and hands at the Shotakang spring. When heralded by the umkha’s horn, all the specialists then processed down from the Budeling house ruins in the same manner and ranking as used on the morning of Day Three. However, they only went as far as the tsumgung stones, which formed the location for all rites until evening fell. On the right side of and facing towards the stones, the ritual specialists stood in a semi-circle and performed a long series of chants with bro movement performance, beginning with the Bon rgyud and Skyed rgyud and culminating in a special chant popularly named (as opposed to a written title) Stod bshad smad bshad, which literally means ‘Explaining above, explaining below’. It takes the form of an abbreviated ritual antecedent narrative specifically explaining the respective behaviours of ’O-de Gung-rgyal and gShen-rab Mi-bo upon their very first encounter. The setting in the narrative is when the lha descended to earth from the sky above (stod), and gShen-rab ascended from the world of human beings below (smad), where they met in the highlands at the ecological boundary between the alpine slates and the meadowlands. The first half of the chant recounting this initial meeting is

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a repeat of the final twenty-six lines of the Song of sTon pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Causing the lHa to Descend chanted at Khomagyan the following day, and which is translated below in full in the account of Day Five. The second half of the text (smad bshad) then recounts the worldly activity of gShen-rab as the archetypal ritual specialist who performed the first reception rites for the lha on behalf of human society, and finally how ’O-de Gung-rgyal then manifested himself within the world surrounding all human life. Thus, this second part, the language of which is lightly influenced by Dzala, has the character of a short charter for Srid-pa’i lha worship as ideally represented at Tsango. The smad bshad text is moreover eloquent testimony of local notions about how the lha animates the world (fig. 11, no. 12):

[42a]

[41a...] bSwo!

When the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo Alighted from his horse, he got down to the right. When he put on his turban, he put it on to the left. He laid out a small square of felt as a mat. He transmitted a signal to the lha with a white flag. He saluted the lha and served him briefly. The ston pa gShen-rab prostrated to the lha. When he prostrated to the lha who was on the trunk of a mighty tree, The tree trembled, si li li. When he prostrated to the lha who was on a mighty boulder of stone, It rolled around, dgongs se dgongs. When he prostrated to the lha who was at the mighty river that had no klu, [41b] It shimmered and whirled, khyil li li. When he prostrated to the lha who was on the mighty earth that had no rocks, Tree sprouted, shil li li. When he prostrated to the lha who were with the black-headed human beings, Their happiness flourished, ya la la. When the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo Laid out a mat for the lha, He spread white cotton as the mat for the lha. He served a feast to the lha by hand. He offered beautiful flowers as adornments to the lha.

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[42b]

To the arrow with vulture [fletching], He affixed a white, decorative ribbon. Then he set it up as a ritual support for the lha. On the white lha stone, He drew a swastika of vermillion. Then he set it up as a ritual support for the lha. He made a large flag of painted cotton98 and A southern bamboo cane with three nodes. He then set it up as a ritual support for the lha. The white lha shing Ornamented with a white animal’s tail, He then set it up as a ritual support for the lha. That lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, By way of generating manifestations of his heart/ mind, Gave rise to a three hundred and sixty strong lha retinue. He gave rise to a twenty-four thousand strong subsidiary retinue. One lha dwells in the highlands as the phu. It is the lha who protects against frost and hail. The phu lha named dGye-thung came forth as proof of that, to be sure! One lha dwells in the lowlands as the mda’. It is the lha who protects against depletion and famine. The rten bu named Zhal-dkar came forth as proof of that, to be sure! One lha dwells in the person of the ruler. It is the lha who protects against enemies and bandits. The dgra lha named Chom-btsun came forth as proof of that, to be sure! One lha dwells in the area as the yul. The proof is it protects against epidemics, colds and flus in the area, to be sure! One lha dwells at the pinnacle of the stronghold. The rtse lha named mThon-po came forth as the proof of that, to be sure! One lha dwells in the grain store. It comes forth as hundredfold and thousandfold increases, to be sure! One lha dwells in the manger for the livestock.

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Our aspirations for yogurt, butter and milk from the livestock are entrusted to them as the proof of that, to be sure!99 Once this series of three chants had been completed at Tsumgung, members of the public began to approach the line of ritual specialists and tied white ceremonial scarves around their necks and placed banknotes within the f lat bells of the lhami, drong and other higher status specialists which were held with the open mouth upwards for the purpose. Some senior men from the community then chanted ceremonial praises for the persons who approached with a donation or for anyone named by such a donor. The names of these intended subjects were chanted within the texts. This form of sponsored, public singing of people’s praises is called mracheb in Tsango Dzala dialect. This is an antiquated word that literally means ‘offering an arrow’.100 The local etymology recalls two older Tibetan terms and practices related to communicating something important or positive. One is the auspicious sayings or mda’ bshad which are chanted to a new bride when an arrow is placed upon her collar during the wedding ceremony, and which is related to g.yang manipulation. The other is the mda’ yig or ‘arrow letter’ for communicating a message. Similar practices of public praise chanting occur in other Srid-pa’i lha festivals, such as the lozey reported during Kharpu festivals staged in Kheng Chikor, where it is said to be a recent innovation.101 It is not possible to determine the age of the practice in the Khoma valley, albeit that it occurs during other Srid-pa’i lha festivals that I documented there. The cash donations that the ritual specialists gain for each praise request were kept by them, one of the few points during Lhamoche when they gained some tangible rewards for their ritual services.

Fertility Rites and Communal Feast As the sponsored praise chants drew to a close, men and women from the households of the five khyem Ama set up an open-air kitchen just below the Budeling house walls at Tsumgung, in order to cook the communal feast. It was truly communal since, beside the main sponsor households, everyone contributed labour and materials of one form or

another, and all participated in consuming the food and drink together at the same time. As the food cooked, all the ritual specialists began a special movement performance called rTa-’cham or ‘Ritual Dance of the Horse’. This was the only performance I ever encountered during Srid-pa’i lha festivals for which the technical term ’cham was explicitly used. It is not cited in any of the ritual texts used at Tsango and appears to be merely a local colloquial innovation. A wide variety of ‘dance’-like behaviours related to Srid-pa’i lha worship are always referred to either as chong ‘jumping’ or as bro ‘stamping’. The rTa-’cham follows this pattern, with high kicking and prancing steps, hopping and rousing chants to the accompaniment of the flat bells and the horn. The spectator can almost imagine that it is a form of animal mimicking, the movement of a horse – rather than the rider – as in fact occurs at nearby festivals along the Khoma valley, as I will discuss presently. The rTa-’cham was performed both forwards and backwards around a circle which enclosed all the tsumgung stones and the large wooden phallus pole erected next to them. The exact purpose of the rTa-’cham remained unclear to participants since the ritual text for the performance had been lost, most likely in the same fire that destroyed about half the earlier rabs manuscripts. One informant ventured, “If you want to understand battle, then watch the rTa’cham”, suggesting some martial associations. However, when I compared the steps of rTa-’cham with the range of other movements made during different performances throughout the festival, and with those performed during two ‘dance’-like episodes dedicated to mimicking of the horse at the Lawa festival (pl. 65), rTa-’cham is another case of animal mimicking, here of the prancing stallion, and one personally directed by the lhami. A variety of horse performances involving mimicking of the movements and calls of a stallion are found elsewhere during Srid-pa’i lha worship in the Khoma Chu valley, as well as at Tawang and in the southern Mon-yul Corridor. They are always associated with fertility and vitality, and rTa-’cham is another instance of this pattern. In Khoma valley, at least, the horse is nowadays said to be the divine stallion of ’O-de Gung-rgyal or Gurzhe which has acted as the lha mount for descent from the top of the sky. Such an animal is a logical extension of its

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é Plate 110. Hand raising during farewelling sequence for Namdorzhe at Tsumgung, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

é Plate 111. Bowing during farewelling sequence for Namdorzhe at Tsumgung, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

rider, who rides seated upon it with his groin pressed hard against its back, and is thus fully endowed with, and a kind of embodied extension of, its lha rider’s own virility and fertility. At other sites, a Horse Narrative (Rta rabs) is chanted or sung, and exaggerated wooden phalluses associated with the stallion are used to transmit fertility and vitality powers to participants. A variation of this same wooden phallus rite indeed occurs shortly after rTa-’cham at Tsango (see below) but has become slightly dissociated from it nowadays within the sequence of rites.

the hill overlooking Tsumgung, and were the preparations for his formal farewell. Next in rank after the seemingly inseparable unit of Gurzhe and ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Namdorzhe is treated as the most important lha at Tsango, while ‘his’ dongthan, Tsumgung, obviously represents a sort of epicentre for many of the festival proceedings.

The ritual specialists all took seats in a long line on the upper side of the tsumgung stones in the same order as they had already been processing, performing bro and chanting the whole time. In this position, they faced directly uphill and towards the lha shing. Each had a small flat stone serving as an altar before them, and upon which was an offering of hot nakpa. The fumigation rite was performed in which the whole line of specialists and their altars were purified with the incense smoke. Then a chang phud was performed with the nakpa while a version of the Dzamling shida was chanted, and each specialist characteristically covered his mouth throughout and used a flower stalk to dispense the liquor – the acceptable ways of ensuring purity (pl. 109). These rites were for the benefit of achi or ‘elder brother’ Namdorzhe, who was said to be in the lha shing higher up

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Following the chang phud, all the ritual specialists stood and performed a similar form of farewell ceremony as for Ribumo at Kupilang during Day Three. All stood with hands raised directly in the air, with flat bells being rung strongly by those who held them (pl. 110), followed by a deep bow, with this raising and bowing sequence repeated three times (pl. 111). One notable difference in this farewell was no use of bamboo canes or tree branches planted into the earth as one sees for the farewells of Ribumo, Phongphongzhe and Gurzhe on other days. While the farewell proceeded, a row of khyem Ama and other married women from their households stood directly opposite the line of standing ritual specialists. Some of them performed a subtle but significant gesture: as the lha departed, they held the hems of their robes or aprons out in front of their waists and hips to form a shallow cup-like pouch of the cloth, while one woman was seen to cup the hand at her waist towards the sky. This is considered a direct means of receiving the fertility of tshe and g.yang that ‘rains down’ from the sky in the wake of the departing lha. Its target area is

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

obviously the zone of female reproductive organs around the waist and hips, euphemistically referred to as a woman’s ‘lap’ (pang, sku pang) in both colloquial and ritual speech. This recalls fertility tropes in Himalayan myths when fertilising precipitation rains or hails down from the sky into a woman’s lap or mouth, as well as local joking about cups and white fluids.102 Identical gestures by women in the same ritual context are used during Srid-pa’i lha festivals at sites very distant from Tsango.103 This is a simple yet profound act encapsulating the overall point of the cult. It is often explicitly referred to in the rabs texts themselves, as an aspiration addressed directly to the lha, ‘Emerge as children/sons and abundance; emerge in the mother’s lap’.104

Explanation of the Phallus By the completion of the farewell rites for Namdorzhe, the entire worship community were seated in neat rows around one side of the tsumgung stones opposite the ritual specialists. The khyem Ama served everyone, starting with the specialists, ladles full of strong, distilled liquor (ara). During the drinks, amid the chatting and laughing as everyone relaxed, a chanting challenge was imposed upon all participants. It entailed being able to chant on demand an original version of a so-called ‘Explanation of the Phallus’ (En ta gling gi bshad pa). This type of chant is known from Srid-pa’i lha worship in other areas.105 In Tsango dialect of Dzala, the spoken term entaling refers to any wooden phallus used during the performance of rites, while it is also a local euphemism for the male organ.106 The large wooden phallus pole that had been planted next to the altar at lower Kupilang, had been set up at Tsumgung at midday when the chants there commenced. The trimpön now carried it around the whole group from person to person. For the occasion, the phallus had a thin yellow ribbon attached, hanging down from its head in imitation of a stream of emissions from an actual male organ. The trimpön held its carved head directly in front of each man’s face, somewhat like a television reporter holding a microphone to interview someone, and told them to deliver a proper explanation (bshad) of the phallus (pl. 112). If the selected person failed to chant

something convincing, in jest they might be tapped on the head and shoulders with the large phallus, much to the amusement of the crowd, albeit that this act itself was the giving of a blessing of sorts. There are no fixed texts for an En ta gling gi bshad pa. It is an occasion for extemporising in the best spirit of a society for whom skill in public oration remains a genuine mark of status. Some versions of the En ta gling gi bshad pa chanted during the Lhamoche were most clever and humorous, being packed with cultural references and puns on these, for instance: Its head, with this covering 107 of copper, Is called ‘Zangs-mdog dPal-ri’. Its mid-section, with this covering of flesh, Is called ‘Sha-kya Thub-pa’. Its base, encircled by forest, Is called ‘Na-ro Pan-chen’. When seen being inserted [into a vagina], its form is that of a bridge; It is the bridge crossed by the merchant Nor-bu bZang-po. When seen turned to its underside, it has the form of a spoon;108 It arouses the admiration of the divine craftsman, Vishvakarman. It is that which subdues a young woman. It is the attribute of a young man.109 Here, the three parts of the male organ are named after and compared with three famous Tibetan Buddhist references. The head of the phallus, with its characteristic shape and colouring, is named after the sublime ‘Glorious Copper-Coloured Mountain’ (Zangs-mdog dPal-ri) paradise of the ‘second Buddha’ Padmasambhava himself. For its shaft, the name Sha-kya Thub-pa is the Classical Tibetan translation of the Buddha’s Sanskrit epithet, Shakyamuni, with the pun being that thub pa means ‘to withstand’ or ‘the able one’ referring to its ‘flesh’ or sha in Tibetan. Naming the encircling ‘forest’ of pubic hairs at its base Na-ro Panchen invokes Naropa, one of the most important Indian

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Vajrayana yogins for later Tibetan tantric lineages, seated in his hermitage surrounded by forest. The ‘bridge’ describing the form of an erect phallus refers to the legendary, roving merchant (tshong dpon) Nor-bu bZang-po, about whom many traditional tales and aphorisms circulate, but especially throughout different populations along the Mon-yul Corridor,110 including the idea that he had a woman in every village or town at which he traded. In the failing light of late afternoon, with full bellies and often mildly intoxicated, all participants returned to their brang huts to rest. During the early evening, a small party consisting of the lhami with a group of lha’i bu and trimpön gradually visited every brang at Tsango. None wore any ritual costumes, and several had their flat bells as the sole accoutrement. These visits were a simple process during which the group chanted to the housemother that they had brought the ‘aspirations’ (smon lam) dispensed by the lha with them into her hut just then. In return, she serves them alcohol, after which they move to the next hut. Such houseto-house visits by ritual specialists to bless the house with smon lam occur in most Srid-pa’i lha festivals (see chs. 10, 11).

é Plate 112. Chanting an ‘Explanation of the Phallus’ at Tsumgung.

Nocturnal Chanting Duel

sat in a line. A chang phud was offered with a version of the Dzamling shida being chanted.

By late evening, the lhami, drong and other senior ritual specialists had gone to Khomagyan dongthan and moved into the lha brang hut. Despite its somewhat grand sounding name, the lha brang was a simple cattle shelter with two sides and a roof made of bamboo matting attached to a couple of poles. A hearth typical of the area was set up in the middle to heat liquor and for warmth using three long and flat rectangular stones placed equidistant and upright, facing into the centre where the fire is burnt. Each stone has a deity. This is an ancient design for hearths and the Tsango version used in the lha brang is identical with those built in Qiang temples along the eastern Tibetan Plateau marches.111 The lhami and the drong sat along the back wall. Behind them on a post, the lhami had hung his small painted scroll depicting Gurzhe surrounded by a range of other deities. To the right of these two senior specialists, along the sidewall, the tsangmi, lha’i bu and other more junior ritual specialists

The umkha sounded his horn, which was the signal for other younger men and women to arrive and enter the lha brang. The young men joined the junior ritual specialists to form an all male group seated along the side wall of the hut, while an equal-sized group of young women sat in a line to the left of the lhami, and directly across the hearth from and faceing the male group. A noisy excitement prevailed in the crowded lha brang in anticipation of the chanting duel between these male and female lines. The competitive duelling aspect of the encounter was an exercise of precision and volume. At the sound of a single gentle tolling of the lhami’s flat bell, the male group had to begin constantly chanting the word Wayo fast, steady and loudly until the lhami once again spontaneously gave a toll of his f lat bell. Immediately when that happened, with split-second precision the male group had to cease their chant while the female group instantly took over and continued the chant themselves.

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The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

Turn by turn, in keen anticipation of the bell’s soft toll, the monotonic crescendo of youthful voices shifted back and forth between the two sides for about fifteen minutes, until the male group were finally declared the winners. The symbolism of the event could not be mistaken; young men and young women in the dark of night facing each other across the fire, competitively straining towards each other, and yelling repeatedly in high tempo a ritual word that simply means ‘fuck!’ Such gendered chanting duels between the youth of different clans in a community and presided over by a shaman during rites of renewal are also known from premodern southern Siberia.112

informed to undertake the physical work of the expulsion rite during which nobody would be vulnerable. They then went above old Tsango into the forest, to a site named Nalangong, where they fashioned full-sized wooden swords from specific trees. In the hour after midnight, the armed lha’i bu could be heard running from hut to hut and calling around the Tsango settlement, thrusting with their swords to drive out any negative forces that may have been lurking around people and their animals. The worship community popularly called the protective part of this process ‘empowerment (dbang) of Gurzhe’.

9.10 Festival Day Five Nocturnal Expulsion Rites The end of the good natured and high-spirited chanting contest was the signal for everyone except the lhami to completely depart from the Khomagyan area, and return to their huts. Nobody ever witnesses what the lhami then does at Khomagyan, although he reported it to me later when questioned. His lone task in the lha brang is to settle into a contemplative state and silently recite in his mind his secret spell named Phig pa tshig gsum, or the Three Piercing Words. While the word ‘spell’ may invoke a pithy string of ‘magical’ syllables or words, the actual text of the Phig pa tshig gsum covers the recto and verso sides of fifteen written manuscript folios. It does indeed contain several short strings of mantra-like syllables which can be considered the actual ‘spells’, and which are believed to have the ultimate power to effect reality. The long text preceding the strings of spell syllables is a wide-ranging invocation composed in an arcane local dialect, the bulk of which is barely or not at all intelligible to laypersons. Auxiliary beings are invoked by the lhami, although I was not told their identities. The lhami must visualise that he calls together the ‘souls’ or mobile vitality principles (pla) of all beings in the valley to himself, and that he then affords them protection from harm caused by any hostile local deities and negative forces. Various informants at Tsango said they believed the Phig pa tshig gsum’s power to protect was one hundred thousand times more powerful than any other rite. Once the lhami considers he has placed all beings under the protection of his spell, the lha’i bu are

The rites of Day Five commenced during the morning with all ritual specialists assembling and then processing in ranked order away from the Budeling house ruin at Tsumgung, as they had on Day Three. Their destination was Khomagyan dongthan, at which a long series of chants were performed directly in front of the lha brang hut used by the lhami during the previous night. While the initial Bon rgyud and Skyed rgyud chants employed at each major dongthan were repeated first, the main chant of the morning was that titled Song of sTon pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Causing the lHa to Descend (Ston pa sgam chen pha wang gis lha phab glu). As at the great majority of Srid-pa’i lha worship sites throughout Bhutan, and at only one or two still in the adjacent Monyul Corridor, variations of this tale of the messenger bat, sGam-chen Pha-wang, inviting the sky lha to earth hold a central place within festivals. This is not only due to the popular folkloric wit and wisdom characterising parts of the storyline, but also because, as a formal ritual antecedent narrative, this rabs explains the origins of Srid-pa’i lha worship itself as a ritual system. This is strongly believed to be the case at Tsango, and moreover, the very origin place where the bat and the lha first descended to earth so the latter could be worshipped is identified at Khomagyan itself. Close to the lha brang, there is a rather low and flat boulder protruding about one metre above the ground. This boulder is held to be the exact spot at which the lha’s arrival upon the earth was first played out.

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é Plate 113. The parallel lha and human lines for performing dialogues during the sGam-chen Pha-wang rite, Khomagyan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

Chanting the sGam-chen Pha-wang narrative involved a dialogue between the ritual specialists, as well as the acting out of parts of the storyline. Initially, the specialists divided into two equal groups and stood in lines facing one other about three metres apart. On the downhill side of the divide stood the drong, gtsang mi, namsa and the three palopa, while on the uphill side were the five lha’i bu plus the debjön (pl. 113). For the dialogue passages in the narrative, the former group represented the Srid-pa’i lha in the sky world, while the latter represented the world of human beings upon the earth. At certain points in the storyline, the lhami himself appropriately represented the messenger bat, and during the chanting, he crossed back and forth continually between the two lines acting out sGam-chen Pha-wang’s role as

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go-between. To aid correct following of the long narrative during this chant, the ritual specialists actively referred to both manuscripts containing the sGam-chen Pha-wang narrative. A fumigation fire was lit and the performance of the Song of the sTon pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Causing the lHa to Descend commenced (fig. 11, no. 13): [1b]

[2a]

Aa ha ha’i! Aa ha ha’i hi! As for the lha’s words: Fuck! Fuck! lHa fuck! (Wa yo! Wa yo! lHa wa yo!). In the beginning, during times past, When the sky was covering over above, When the earth spread out below, The ancestor-progenitor mTho’u-zhe appointed the various things to be put in order. For me, he appointed the laws to act by. For me, he appointed the actual laws I abide by.113 In ancient times, the ancestor-progenitor mTho’ubzhe appointed them. He appointed the laws to act by, and the actual laws to abide by.

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

In the beginning, the life of the father was that of the father. Later on, the life of the son was that of the son. Now, my life is my own. Henceforth is [the story of] sGam-chung [Pha-wang] bringing down the lha. In the beginning, people had no lha. Paro was [uncivilised] like Mon. Since the lha had no people [worshipping them], They were like the sloping heights of a mountain pass [namely, high above but ordinary]. Since battle armour lacked ornamentation and brocades, It resembled shiny bits of slate. Since horses lacked reins and halter, They were like wild ass on the hillsides. Since villages had no people with lustre, They resembled lairs of rock and stone. [2b] The ston pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Went in search of a lha. The name of his father and patriarch Was A’o Gung-rgyal. The name of his mother and matriarch Was Grang-ma dPal-gyi bTsun-mo. These two procreated and gave rise to A son, who was sGam-chen Pha-wang. When he clothed his body He wore a cloak of partridge skin. In his right hand, he held an arrow with vulture [fletching]. When he went, where did he go? From the earth below, he went into the sky. He went to the top of the thirteen levels of the sky world. He thrice uttered bSwo! bSwo! He signalled with a white flag. He sent forth smoke of white incense.114 [3a] However, he failed to invite the pho lha. From his mouth came the smoke of incense, thu lu lu. Three times he hailed the maternal uncle of the rMu. The nine-runged rMu ladder was set up in the sky. That bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Still had no horse to ride.

He sought a horse and found a sheep. The father and patriarch of that sheep Was the sky sheep Zhon-chen. The mother and matriarch of that sheep Was the earth sheep Zhon-mo. Their child was the conch sheep who knew how to fly. With that, he had found a horse to ride. That bird sGam-chen Pha-wang, His father and patriarch is A’o Gung-rgyal. [3b] His mother and matriarch is Grang-ma dPal-gyi gTsun-mo. Those two procreated and gave rise to The so-called sGam-chen Pha-wang. That bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Wore a cloak of white silk upon his body. In his right hand, he held an arrow with vulture [fletching]. In his left, he held aloft a white flag as a signal. That bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Flying and flying, he flew to the heavens, Soaring and soaring, he soared into the sky. When he arrived on top of the first level of the sky world, He thrice uttered bSwo! bSwo! He made smoke with white incense. [4a] He signalled with a white flag. However, he failed to invite the pho lha. Nor did he meet directly with the mo lha. Once again, he was unable to discover the lha’s location. When that bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Arrived on top of the third level of the sky world, He thrice uttered bSwo! bSwo! He made smoke with white incense. He held aloft a banner of white silk. However, he failed to invite the pho lha. Nor did he meet with the mo lha. Once again, he was unable to find the lha’s location. When that bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Arrived on top of the fifth level of the sky world, [4b] He thrice uttered bSwo! bSwo! He made smoke with white incense. He held aloft a banner of white silk.

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However, he failed to invite the pho lha. Nor did he meet with the mo lha. Once again, he was unable to find the lha’s location. When that bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Arrived on top of the twelfth level of the sky world, He thrice uttered bSwo! bSwo! He made smoke with white incense. He held aloft a banner of white silk. However, he failed to invite the pho lha. Nor did he meet with the mo lha. Once again, he was unable to find the lha’s location. [5a] When that bird sGam-chen Pha-wang Arrived on top of the thirteenth level of the sky world, He went before and had an audience with the lha king. One hundred male lha spoke, And one hundred female lha said these words, ‘From the triple confluence of the valleys down below, You, a little man with the head of a rat, Mounted upon a lamb of conch, Hitherto, we never experienced a sight such as that. It is a bad omen of the earth that has arrived in the sky. Are you called sGam-chen Pha-wang? [5b] When you came this morning, where did you come from? When you go this evening, where will you go? What is the purpose of coming here?’ sGam-chen Pha-wang replied, ‘This morning, I came from the land of human beings. This evening, I have gone to the land of the lha. The purpose is to come in search of a lha. A lha needs to go to the land of human beings.’ The great Srid-pa’i lha spoke, ‘sGam-chen Pha-wang, listen here! What kind of attribute are your awesome cleft-lips? What kind of attribute are your ears like a donkey? What kind of attribute are your fangs like a beast of prey? [6a] What kind of attribute are your wings resembling fine silk? What kind of attribute are your feet [clawed] like a pangolin’s?’115 sGam-chen Pha-wang replied, ‘With these awesome cleft-lips,

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I am the human beings’ messenger to the lha. These fangs like a beast of prey, Are for eating ’dre, srin and ’byung [demons], all three. These ears like a donkey, Are to hear the words that the lha speak. These wings resembling fine silk, Are for uniting both the sky and the earth. These feet [clawed] like a pangolin’s, Are to firmly step bro with for the lha.116 Do not call me a “bad omen”!117 If you call me a “bad omen”, [6b] Some great evil will befall you.’ The great Srid-pa’i lha retorted, ‘You, so-called sGam-chen Pha-wang, In what manner have just used your mouth? After what fashion is your body ‘beautiful’?118 Whose son are you anyway? Go back from whence you came!’ sGam-chen Pha-wang replied, ‘As for my father, he is A’o Gung-rgyal. Accordingly, I am boastful. As for my mother, she is Grang-ma dPal-gyi gTsun-mo. Accordingly, my body is handsome. As a son, I am the son of ston pa [gShen-rab Mi-bo].119 Accordingly, my wisdom is great. Lha, come to the land of human beings! If a lha does not accompany me, sGam-chen will not return from whence he came.’ [7a] The great Srid-pa’i lha said, ‘In the land, land of human beings, Gyi-thing, The hearths they have there are defiled. There is enmity, as well as filth. There is malicious gossip and improper goings on.’ The ston pa sGam-chen Pha-wang replied, ‘There is a means of purifying defilement of the hearth. There is a means of purifying enmity and filth. Towards lies, there are also words of truth. A lha needs to go to the land of human beings.’ The great, immaculate lha responded, ‘sTon pa sGam-chen listen here, As for your land, a place of defilement of the hearth, [7b] I will not go down to a land with such hearths. I will not go down to a land with defilements.

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

As for your land, a place that is red with blood, I will not go down to a land with blood. I will not go down to a land so reddened. As for your land, a place of btsan and bdud, I will not go to a land that is like that. You go back from whence you came!’ sTon pa sGam-chen responded, ‘All one hundred male lha on the right, listen! All one hundred female lha on the left, listen! Sons of the lha, form a line and listen! There is a means of purifying defilement of the hearth. There is a means of washing away the redness of blood. [8a] There is a means to worship btsan and bdud. Offerings of that sort are to be done during daytime. Ablutions of that sort are to be done at night. A lha needs to go to the land of human beings. If a lha does not accompany me, The ston pa will not return from whence he came.’ The great, immaculate lha responded, ‘sTon pa sGam-chen listen here! ‘In the land, land of human beings, Gyi-thing, Are there not human beings who are envious Buddhist clerics? Are there not human beings who are crippled and lame? Are there not human beings without forearms [due to amputation for stealing]? Tell me, are there really [human beings with] leg stumps as an act [of punishment] by the ruler? [8b] Tell me, do they know the propitiation rites at the time of the four seasons?’ The son, ston pa sGam-chen, replied, ‘I am the messenger between the lha and human beings. Down below, in the land of human beings, Gyi-thing, The human beings are without a lha. Paro is [uncivilised] like Mon. If the lha have no human beings [to worship them], It will be as if the ears of the sky are deaf. If the horses [of human beings] have no saddles, They will be like wild ass upon the hillsides. If the armour lacks ornamentation, It will resemble shiny bits of slate.

If the food lacks essential nourishment, [Human beings] will be like wild sheep upon the hillsides [eating grass]. Due to all that, they need a lha. [9a] The lha need human beings. If there are no human beings for the lha, Who will perform elimination and offering rites? If human beings have no lha, Who will protect and give them refuge? Offering rites will be performed for the lha by 120 human beings. Protection and refuge will be given to human beings by the lha. There are benefits for both human beings and lha.’ The great, immaculate lha responded, ‘Since pollution, filth and the defilement of homicide, these three, exist What sort of method is there for dealing with them?’ The ston pa sGam-chen replied, ‘Because pollution, filth and the defilement of homicide, these three, exist There are the thirteen purifications of the lha. [9b] A lha needs to go to the land of human beings.’ The great, immaculate lha responded, ‘sGam-chen Pha-wang, listen here! You cannot invite a great lha by insisting in this way! If you invite a great lha by way of insistence, Then how will the lha’s body be purified? How will the lha’s speech be purified? How will the lha’s heart/mind be purified? What seat will be made for the lha? What support will be made for the lha? In what manner will a lha rdo be set up for the lha?’ The ston pa sGam-chen replied, ‘Great, immaculate lha, listen here! White sandalwood and Fragrant incense Will purify the body of the lha. [10a] Fine-leafed juniper and Artemisia plant [yielding] excellent lustral waters Will purify the speech of the lha. Snow lustral waters from sedum plants and Wetland lustral waters from swamp rush plants,121

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Will purify the heart/mind of the lha. All one hundred male lha on the right, listen! All one hundred female lha on the left, listen! Four brother lha, listen here! When it is time to cleanse, the lha will be cleansed. When it is time to look upon [someone], the lord will be looked upon. Is there a means to [choose] a lha who will go to the human beings? If [I may] advise the great Srid-pa’i lha, As for who will go and who not, at the time, to the land of human beings, [10b] Each lha must cast the dice in turn.’ When Yab-lha Dal-drug cast the dice, He got three times six, yielding eighteen.122 His fortune was great. He was appointed as lha of the thirteenth level of the sky world.123 When Phya-lha Bram-chen cast the dice, He got three times five, yielding fifteen. His fortune was great. He was appointed as lha of the sGam-po Phywa.124 When rGya-lha ’Brong-nam cast the dice, He got three times four, yielding twelve. His fortune was great. He was appointed as lha of the rGya Mi-mang Phyug-che.125 When the great lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal cast the dice, [11a] He got three times three, yielding nine. His fortune was small. He was appointed as lha of the black-headed human beings. The great lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Had three hundred and sixty lha accompany him. The great lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal Rode upon a white horse. His body was clad in a white felt robe.126 Upon his head he wore a white turban. [As he went] thunder sounded, di ri ri, Lightning flashed, khyug se khyug. His [tshe] vase shone, shar ra ra, His melodious voice called, di ri ri. [11b] When the great lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal,

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Arrived atop the thirteenth level of the sky world, The ston pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Purified the body of the lha Using white sandalwood and Fine-leafed juniper. When that lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Arrived atop the twelfth level of the sky world, The nine-peaked white snow mountain was set up as ritual support for the lha. The lha’s body was purified with [snow] lustral waters from sedum plants. When that lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Arrived atop the eleventh level of the sky world, The white crystal rock was set up as ritual support for the lha. [12a] Snow lustral waters from Primula plants,127 and Meadow lustral waters from the incense rhododendron plants Purified the lha’s body. When that lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Arrived atop the tenth level of the sky world, The ston pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Set up the white lha rock as ritual support for the lha. With meadow lustral waters from blue poppy plants,128 and Hail lustral waters129 from Primula plants He purified the lha’s body. When he arrived atop the ninth level of the sky world, The fine-leafed juniper was set up as ritual support for the lha. With Artemisia plant [yielding] excellent lustral waters, and fragrant incense [12b] [sGam-chen Pha-wang] purified the lha’s body, speech and heart/mind. When he arrived atop the eighth level of the sky world, The wild bamboo with three nodes was set up as the ritual support of the lha. The lha’s body was purified with rock lustral waters from sedge plants. When he arrived upon the seventh level of the sky world,

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

The lha tree rTing-dkar130 was set up as ritual support for the lha. The lha’s body was purified with wetland lustral waters from swamp rush plants. When that lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Arrived atop the sixth level of the sky world, The ston pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Set up the flat bell Khar-mo Dril-chen as ritual support for the lha. With Artemisia father incense131 The lha’s body was purified. When that lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Arrived atop the fifth level of the sky world, The drum Grag-mo Gling-chen was set up as ritual support for the lha. With the incense of forest groves, musk smoke, [13a] The lha’s body, speech and heart/mind were purified. When that lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Arrived atop the fourth level of the sky world, The conch-shell Phar-ma’i Phar-chung 132 was set up as ritual support for the lha. With white juniper, and The nine father trees, the lha’s body was purified. When that lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Arrived atop the third level of the sky world, The ston pa sGam-chen Pha-wang Set up the white lha g.yag as ritual support for the lha. With the two incense rhododendrons, and [13b] Fragrant fumigation, the lha’s body was purified. When he arrived atop the second level of the sky world, The ’brang rgyas zhal dkar was set up as ritual support for the lha. The lha’s body was purified with white and red Sandalwood. When he arrived atop the first level of the sky world, The finely decorated battle armour and helmet were set up as ritual support for the lha. The lha’s body was purified with Zhang-zhun lustral waters from spurge plants.133 When the lha was about to arrive at the land of human beings, dKyil-mthing, The ston pa gShen-rab then came from below, and

’O-de Gung-rgyal came from above. Both met each other at the boundary between the slates and the alpine meadows. Father ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo Did not recognise the lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. He asked him, ‘White man on a white horse from above, Are you a hostile enemy? Are you a harmful bgegs demon? Are you a btsan spirit who robs [souls]? Are you a destructive sri demon? Could it be that you are a man? Are you a bdud demon who steals human beings? I can’t recognise what you are.’ The lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal answered, ‘I am neither a hostile enemy, Nor am I a harmful bgegs demon. I am neither a destructive sri demon, Nor am I a human being. I am the lha for the human beings of the world. I have come as the lha of human beings who have no lha. I have come as the tshe for those bereft of tshe. I have come as the herder for livestock lacking a herder. I have come as the g.yang for those without cattle g.yang. I have come as the lustre for those whose garments are lacklustre. I have come as the lha of all the world.’ Give it a fuck! The bottom of the vagina is [open] like a pocket!134 (Wa yo bi! Tu wa pag pa!).135 T here are many reasons why such versions of the sGam-chen Pha-wang narrative used in Khoma and Kurtö are significant for analysis of myths and rites in Srid-pa’i lha worship. For instance, this Tsango redaction preserves a brief, initial cosmogonical statement that only invokes the local ancestral deities (zhe/bzhe/bzhes) in the role usually performed by Phywa or Srid-pa’i lha that we know of from Tibetan myths. More specifically, the ‘ancestor-progenitor’ (me me, cf. CT mes mes) mTho’u-[b]zhe at Tsango has the same role as the old ‘protector-ancestor’ (mgon [b]tsun) Phywa do in ‘ordering’ or ‘appointing’ (bskos) the

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î Plate 114. The five khyem Ama dispensing popped grain offerings, Khomagyan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

í Plate 115. Stages of opposite circling around the Srid-pa’i lha boulder by lha and human lines of performers during the sGam-chen Pha-wang rite, Khomagyan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

a.

b.

c.

d.

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universe in those earlier Tibetan narratives depicting the Srid-pa’i lha cosmo-genealogy. In fact, in certain manuscripts from lower Khoma Chu valley mTho’u-[b]zhe is classified as a Phywa in these cosmogonic narratives.136 The only other area within the distribution zone of Srid-pa’i lha worship at which we find texts representing these ancestral deities occurring at the cosmogonical apex is Tawang. The rabs once chanted there for the Pla festival cite the old clan ancestral deities Gu-bzhe, rNa’u-rje, Tha’u-rje (i.e., mTho’u-[b]zhe)137 and Yo-long-rje as the ordering agents (see chs. 5, 16). Such examples contain traces of, and represent the oldest regional forms of, these myths handed down from earlier ancestral populations, before the system of worship became more heavily influenced by Tibetan ‘bon’-identified materials. One good reason to consider this is so is the language used. Such cosmogonic narratives are devoid of any religious vocabulary, and contain no identities shared with narratives redacted by Buddhist and g.Yung-drung Bon agents, and their character is of a secular political style that addresses individual potency and clan power more than anything else. Sections of the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative translated and analysed in chapter 16 demonstrate these characteristics in more detail. A second point of interest in the sGam-chen Pha-wang narrative is the listing of essential ritual items as a series of ‘supports’ set up for the ancestral lha descending through the levels of the sky world. This list includes types of sacred white rocks, tree species (juniper, bamboo, a lha shing), the shaman’s primary musical instruments (f lat bell, drum, conch trumpet/horn), major offering items (yak, arrays of foodstuffs), and a fine suit of battle armour and helmet. This combination of items provides references back to shamanic ritual cultures of the far eastern Tibetan Plateau Marches, which I explore in chapter 17. The battle dress also once again links Tsango’s earlier myths and rites back to the communities in Tawang and further south down the Mon-yul Corridor who also include them in Srid-pa’i lha worship (see ch. 12). Returning to the performance during Lhamoche at Tsango, as the long sGam-chen Pha-wang chant progressed, the entire worship community gradually arrived and took up

their seats at Khomagyan, all dressed in the finest clothing they owned. When the chant entered its final phases, the five khyem Ama came holding large bags filled with roasted and popped harvest grains called boma that had been blessed by offering to the lha. Beginning with the leading ritual specialists, the women circulated the entire gathering and dispensed a handful of boma to each person present. While this was simply handed to the most senior male ritual specialists (pl. 114), all other persons had the boma rubbed upon their faces, while a few grains were consumed by each person. The vigorous rubbing of the rough, dried grains upon the face gave rise to friendly and amusing tussles as participants tried to avoid the experience. Rubbing boma on people represents the aspiration for a good harvest during the coming year, as well as being a mode for imbuing (phog) the participants with the lha’s vitality. Once the boma had been distributed, all the spectators climbed up to the Tashiding dongthan, located upon a terrace some ten metres higher than Khomagyan and just out of sight. The exceptions here were the five khyem Ama, who sat in a row as the sole spectators present for the final part of the sGam-chen Pha-wang rite. This took place around the large boulder upon which it is believed the Srid-pa’i lha and the messenger bat initially alighted at Khomagyan when the lha arrived from the sky world to first encounter the human community and receive their worship. This encounter was dramatised by a special circular performance. Once the palopa had given the three palo to the trimpön to hold, the two groups of ritual specialists for the sGam-chen Pha-wang chant stood in their respective parallel lines, but now held hands to form two human chains facing each other. The lhami, whose role is that of sGam-chen Pha-wang, remained separate, ringing his f lat bell, and the drong, too, stepped back at this point to help keep the rhythm with his flat bell. This left two lines of young male performers. The two lines stepped rhythmically sideways towards the boulder and, upon reaching it, the lha-identified line began to encircle it counterclockwise from below while the line identified with the human world did so clockwise from above (pl. 115 a-b). As both circling groups met, the lha-identified line passed around on the inside nearest the boulder, while the human group circled outside of them (pl. 115 c-d). The choreography

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embodied the myth. The counterclockwise circling of the lha group represented the descent of the lha from the sky down to the point of encounter at the boulder, while the clockwise circling represented the upward progress of the human representatives from the earth below towards the same point. All the while, the lhami walked around the group as if the messenger bat were attending the encounter as a spectator. As soon as some double encirclements of the boulder had been completed, both lines suddenly broke away, and all the ritual specialists in them sprinted as fast as they could in a race up to Tashiding dongthan. The crowd had anticipated this moment and were waiting above to view the finish of the race, yelling loudly and repeatedly ‘May the lha be victorious!’ (‘Lha rgyal lo!’), until the winner reached Tashiding. As at Kupilang, the winner of this race was believed to benefit from three years of the lha’s protection.

Conception Rites Soon after the race up to Tashiding dongthan, the sifu rites for married women seeking to conceive a child took place there. As outlined in chapter 2, the sifu concept expresses a central mythological claim and ritual purpose of the Sridpa’i lha cult: the contribution by ancestral lha to procreation of human life. Sifu, or seefu in other local languages, are phonetic forms of the known Tibetan terms sri’u or sri’u phru, which refer to newborn infants and the fertility required to produce them. gDung origin myths preserved in the seventeenth century Rgyal rigs first recorded mythical precursors of the sifu concept within the research region. In one instance, the sky lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal implants his ‘lha son’ Gu-se Lang-ling as a miraculous conception directly within the womb of a human woman, who then gives birth to him in the form of a male child. In another case, ’O-de Gung-rgyal dispatches his ‘lha son’ Gu-se Lang-ling down to earth, where he manifests as a white snake that crawls over the body of a sleeping human woman who then conceives and gives birth to a male child.138 In both myths, the resulting birth is described as something out of the ordinary, an ‘emanation of the lha’ (lha’i sprul pa) in the first case and as ‘appearing interjacently without a father’ (pha med par bar las byung ba) in the second. The sifu rite at Tsango

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and elsewhere is akin to a somewhat more embodied form of this same idea and is without doubt a descendant of much earlier eleventh century rituals recorded in the ste’u and sha slungs rites analysed in chapter 15. At Tsango and in other Srid-pa’i lha worship communities, the colloquial term sifu entails a twofold meaning. Sifu is not only used to refer to the specific conception rites I will now describe at Tashiding, it also refers to any actual births believed to result from this ritual interaction that the mothers concerned had with the Srid-pa’i lha, and is thus used as a category designation applied to any persons born in this manner.139 The corollary is that, following their birth, such a sifu person becomes dedicated or bound to the lha for the rest of their lives in that the deity supports and protects them. The sifu rite at Tashiding is also called shanglha or shenglha (probably written CT bzhengs lha), drawing upon one of the most important and frequent verbs occurring in Srid-pa’i lha rites. The verb bzheng(s) – for which spellings are variable in local texts, and tense often only obvious in context – means ‘to rise up’, ‘manifest’ or ‘emerge’ in these ritual contexts and is applied to both Srid-pa’i lha and the auxiliaries of the bon shaman. Shenglha is explained by informants in the specific sense that lha Gurzhe himself is said to become temporarily present (i.e., ‘to rise up’, ‘manifest’ or ‘emerge’) within the body of the lhami. This presence is not understood as a ‘possession’ event, nor does the lhami display any external signs typical of possession that are regionally defined for other ritual specialists, such as mediums or oracles and their patients, and neither does he report experiencing anything other than his ‘normal’ waking state of consciousness. Shenglha is thus best defined as a form of temporary ‘embodiment’. The sifu or shenglha rite must be performed at the small, flat area called Tashiding during each Lhamoche festival, regardless of whether any women within the worship community are actively trying to conceive a child and wish to participate in it. Any woman who wishes to conceive a child with Gurzhe must first join the lhami and drong in the centre of a circle formed by all the lha’i bu. Typically, the woman candidates for the rite tend to be younger, and since the rite involves mimicking copulation in public, about which they

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may feel shy, they can elect two older women to join them within the circle and be held either side by them throughout the performance. While the lha’i bu encircled these main participants, they all rang their flat bells in unison with a special rhythm not heard in other rites, characterised by short, rather fast strokes as the bell was swung through a 90° arch between shoulder and waist. It is obvious in context that this rhythm is intended to invoke the movement of bodies engaged in coitus. The lhami and the woman first orient themselves towards the eastern quadrant of the circle. They then stand face to face, as the lhami moves forward to stand pressed directly against the woman. The drong moves in behind the lhami and clasps him, and both ritual specialists move back and forth against the woman mimicking coitus to the rhythm of the f lat bells. During these actions, some water is sprinkled about from a ladle to represent semen (khu) ejaculating. While it is the lhami who is believed to temporarily be Gurzhe copulating with the woman – and participants remarked that she should be thinking this while it takes place – the drong’s role is simply to force the lhami to press against her so that they contact, in case any attempt to obviate this is made due to shyness. The lhami has four small wooden phalluses fashioned from the tall shrub called sershing or ‘yellow wood’ (Mahonia napaulensis), so-named for the strong colouring of its wood. It is commonly used as a ritual material for various rites, but especially exorcisms and driving off negative spirits, in Khoma and Kurtö. He inserted one of these into the folds or pocket of the woman’s traditional garments. They both then walk a complete clockwise circle within the ring of lha’i bu, and take up positions to the south, west and north points of the compass, respectively, with the whole sequence of actions just described above being repeated at each of the other three cardinal points. The sifu or shenglha is complete when the woman is in possession of all four small wooden phalluses given her by the lhami. She takes these to keep at home, where they serve to protect her from curses and malicious gossip (karam). After the mimic copulation is completed, a mock baby wrapped in a shawl is carried and rocked by the woman while one of the lha’i bu acts the part of the baby’s father.140

The rest of the worship community surrounding the ritual arena of sifu laugh good-naturedly during this rite. There are no lewd or unseemly remarks. Such a public demonstration is not only treated as an amusing performance due to the actions of participants but is also viewed as being of some importance. All understand the aspiration to produce a new human life that the women participants and their husbands have had difficulties achieving thus far by themselves. The special style of sifu or shenglha performance, in which the lha who is technically a guest from outside being temporarily hosted at the festival subtly embodied in the fully-clothed bon shaman pressed against a woman, is often compared with real life instances of sexual relations. During interviews at Bumdeling in 2012, one former participant in cult festivals recalled sifu with the aphorism, ‘The penis of a guest goes inside [a woman]. Our lha just touches/ approaches [her].’141 Mimicked sifu copulation rites take place at other sites of the cult around the region. However, good-natured sensitivity and subtle understandings of it are markedly absent among persons from other non-cult communities, who often make prudish allusions to such rites. Srid-pa’i lha worshippers have no doubt a long history of enduring such ignorant responses by outsiders. It is highly likely that the crude buffoonery mocking sexual posturing and intercourse exhibited by various ‘clown’ figures in Buddhist masked dance (’cham) festivals was itself originally a denigrating spoof of sifu rites. Next to ingesting vitality-bearing substances, or having them directly applied to the head, sifu rites are the other relatively common mode of vitality’s transmission available for participants during Srid-pa’i lha festivals, although it is only available to individual married women, and at some sites also to married couples. Any children born following a woman’s participation in the sifu or shenglha at Tashiding dongthan and believed to be the result of a conception by Gurzhe, are classified within the sifu group of persons fathered by the lha. All these sifu gather together on Day Six of each Lhamoche for rites that acknowledge their Srid-pa’i lha ‘father’ (see below).

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Farewell to Phongphongzhe After the sifu rites, the whole party of ritual specialists walked up the long grass slope to a site named Lhazangmey. This is located immediately in front of a large lha shing in which the Srid-pa’i lha rest while the festival progresses. Here the specialists performed a ceremonial farewell for Gurzhe’s brother lha Phongphongzhe. With a few variations of detail, the farewell procedure was a replica of that conducted for Ribumo at Kupilang during Day Three and aspects of that for Namdorzhe on Day Four. At Lhazangmey, the entire party of specialists formed a long line across the hillside facing up to the lha shing, beginning with the palopa at the right-hand end and descending in ranked order in the same sequence as the procession from Tsumgung to Kupilang on Day Three. In front of each participant, a cut sershing stem some one and a half metres high topped by a crown of leaves had been inserted into the earth. As soon as the farewell was completed, all the younger specialists turned and sprinted in a race down to Melong Mensey dongthan, while the crowd lined the route and cheered them on.

Remnant of the Elimination Rites At Melong Mensey, a site on the banks of a small stream fed by the springs around Tsumgung, there are two unusual stone shrines. They each have a cubic base some one and a half metres in height and breadth, while standing atop these in the centre of each is a rough-cut, stone stela over half a metre in length (pl. 116). They are only used during Lhamoche as the site around which the Me long sman sel rite is performed. They are an example of cultic stones associated with the ancestral sky lha found in many Srid-pa’i lha worship communities, and which I compare in some detail with the Qiang cult of white stones below in chapter 17. The young racers pranced around these stelae while they awaited the arrival of the lhami and other performers. The senior ritual specialists all walked down from Lhazangmey to join the young racers at Melong Mensey dongthan. This site is named after the Me long sman sel rite and chant conducted there. The rite involves invocation of a group of

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é Plate 116. Stone stela as site of the Me long sman sel rite at Melong Mensey dongthan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

five beings called ‘mirror sman’ (me long sman), and represents one part of the larger cycle of sel or ‘elimination’ rites. In the context of Srid-pa’i lha worship sel has only one purpose. This is elimination of pollution and hindrances of various types on the path the lha must travel between the top of the sky world and the site(s) of worship on the earth – usually the altar of the ritual specialist is cited, but sometimes the domestic dwelling of the ritual sponsor also. As mentioned above, Tsango had more Sel rabs manuscripts than any other site I sampled, yet at the time of my field research the Me long sman sel was the last remnant of the sophisticated sel cycle still being performed during Lhamoche. Possible reasons why only Me long sman sel now survives as a remnant of the Sel rabs cycle at Tsango will be considered in the final section of the chapter. The Sel rabs cycle has already been briefly introduced in parts II and III, together with its prime initiator figures the archetypal gshen Ya-ngal and his brothers, and in the example of the Spos rabs performance (see appx. D). In addition to that background, and the fact that – as with all rabs – each localised version of the Sel rabs is a unique variant of the cycle,142 the remnant Me long sman sel chant can only be understood as a part of Lhamoche

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

when contextualised within its original and now more or less defunct narrative and ritual framework. At Tsango, as at other sites where the Sel rabs cycle is employed, its chanting occurs after the narrative of how the messenger bat invited the first lha who descended to earth for worship. This is when the group of deities lead by the pho lha and including the mo lha, zhang lha, srog lha, dgra lha and others are invited down from the sky world to receive offerings (mchod). For this to be successful, purificatory rites are required to open the route and cleanse the destination. The Sel rabs cycle preserved in the manuscripts at Tsango has the following arrangement of narratives within which the Me long sman sel is embedded (cf. appxs. D, M). The cycle begins with a long and detailed ‘master narrative’ explaining the origin of sel rites: defilements arise due to ignorant human behaviour and causing those lha led by the pho lha to become alienated from the social world. Without these lha, nineteen types of disease strike the abode of the deities in the lha land, Gung-thang, while humans and their animals are each afflicted by nine types of illness, respectively. Vitality is lost or weakened, and life is in peril. A divination states that Ya-ngal and his two brothers are required for a solution, and their origins are explained. The three brothers recommend the cycle of sel rites and list the deities who need to be invoked for this. Ya-ngal himself then acts as the narrator of a series of seven antecedent narratives explaining the origin and form of each different type of purification rite, which together comprise the sel for Srid-pa’i lha. The scheme of these rites in four sections with seven parts found at Tsango is as follows: 1. Purifying fumigation (bsangs): i. Me rabs – origins of fire required for fumigation rites; ii. Spos rabs – origins of fragrant plants required for fumigation rites; iii. Lcags rabs – origins of iron, the smith and iron implements, including those required for fumigation such as the shallow incense pan (blang nga rgya gling and variants), the striking steel (CT me lcags), etc. 2. Sprinkling ablution waters (khrus chab gtor): iv. Lha lnga lam sel rabs – origins and invocation of five bon po to purify the lha’s path between sky and earth worlds;

v. Me long sman sel rabs – origins and invocation of five me long sman to purify the lha’s path into the entrance of the house. 3. Cleansing by bird calls (skad gyis tshang): vi. Nam zla dus bzhi – origins of purification of the lha during the four seasons by the seasonal songs of four different birds. 4. Lustration with herb-scented waters (tshan): vii. Bdud rtsi rabs – origins of lustration rites by the tshan bon Thor-lcogs using waters scented with herbs. Within this scheme, the Lha lnga lam sel and Me long sman sel texts form a closely related thematic sub-unit. The Lha lnga lam sel was not performed during the 2012 Lhamoche. However, since it is the chanted prelude to the Me long sman sel chant to follow, for the sake of coherence and completeness I present the first of its five chant units, which concerns the pho lha (fig. 11, no. 18): Arise now five lha sman for the road elimination rite! The father, rGya-brag dKar-po, and The mother, Grang-kyi g.Yu-mtsho, Those two procreated and reproduced, from which Eggs of five types of precious substance were produced. The first was a golden egg that was yellow. The second was a turquoise egg that was blue. The third was an iron egg that was black. The fourth was a copper egg that was red. The fifth was a conch egg that was white. The golden egg that was yellow broke open, and from within it Emerged the golden bon po who was yellow. He had golden bya ru planted on his head. From his mouth, he chanted a rite (bon), stong se stong. In his right hand, he held a golden lasso. His elimination rite went upwards to the white road of the lha. In his left hand, he held a golden rosary. His elimination rite went downwards for the nine sorts of degeneration. Golden bon po who is yellow, Come for the elimination rite that purifies the pho lha!143

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The remaining four parts of the formulaic Lha lnga lam sel chant describe four further bon po indexed to different substances who perform sel for the mo lha, dgra lha, srog lha and yul lha, respectively, so that they can all descend from the sky unobstructed. After this is completed, the Me long sman sel chant begins to clear a path for these lha to then enter the houses of the ritual sponsors. The chant performed at Melong Mensey dongthan was as follows (fig. 11, no. 18): Arise now mirror sman144for the elimination rite! The father, rGya-brag dKar-po, and The mother, Grang-kyi g.Yu-mtsho, Those two procreated and reproduced, from which Eggs of five types of precious substance were produced. The golden egg that was yellow broke open, out of which A golden mirror sman emerged. She had a golden spike145 upon her head. In her right hand, she held a golden mirror. She waved the mirror to and fro at the lha. In her left hand, she held a golden vase. She sprinkled the ablution waters of the vase upon the lha. [18a] From her mouth came the words, ‘Be purified! Be cleansed!’ Golden mirror sman, Today, on this straight path into the door of the house, Come for the golden sman elimination rite that cleanses! The turquoise egg that was blue broke open, out of which A turquoise mirror sman emerged. She had a turquoise spike upon her head. In her right hand, she held a turquoise mirror. She waved the mirror to and fro at the lha. In her left hand, she held a turquoise vase. She sprinkled the ablution waters of the vase upon the lha. From her mouth came the words, ‘Be purified! Be cleansed!’ Turquoise mirror sman, Today, on this pathway into the door of the house, [17b...]

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Come for the turquoise sman elimination rite that cleanses! The iron egg that was black broke open, out of which An iron mirror sman emerged. She had an iron spike upon her head. In her right hand, she held an iron mirror. She waved the mirror to and fro at the lha. In her left hand, she held an iron vase. She sprinkled the ablution waters of the vase upon the lha. [18b] From her mouth came the words, ‘Be purified! Be cleansed!’ Iron mirror sman, Today, on this pathway into the door of the house, Come for the iron sman elimination rite that cleanses! The copper egg that was red broke open, out of which A copper mirror sman emerged. She had a copper spike upon her head. In her right hand, she held a copper mirror. She waved the mirror to and fro at the lha. In her left hand, she held a copper vase. She sprinkled the ablution waters of the vase upon the lha. From her mouth came the words, ‘Be purified! Be cleansed!’ [19a] Copper mirror sman, Today, on this pathway into the door of the house, Come for the copper sman elimination rite that cleanses! The conch egg that was white broke open, out of which A conch mirror sman emerged. She had a conch spike upon her head. In her right hand, she held a conch mirror. She waved the mirror to and fro at the lha. In her left hand, she held a conch vase. She sprinkled the ablution waters of the vase upon the lha. From her mouth came the words, ‘Be purified! Be cleansed!’ Conch mirror sman, Today, on this pathway into the door of the house,

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Come for the conch sman elimination rite that cleanses! Be purified! Be cleansed!146 The Sel rabs phrases in these chants, such as the ‘elimination rite went upwards to the white road of the lha’, or ‘this pathway into the door’, and so forth, all have parallels in the same rites performed by Ya-ngal Gyim-kong in old manuscripts for Rnel dri ’dul ba rites discovered at the dGa’-thang shrine (see ch. 15). While performing this Me long sman sel chant, the ritual specialists divided themselves into two groups which each performed bro clockwise around one of the two stone stelae shrines at Melong Mensey dongthan. The lhami and his party of more senior specialists did so at the upstream shrine, while the lha’i bu and palopa – now without any palo to hold – encircled the downstream stelae. In between both stelae, and off to the side, the five khyem Ama were present standing in a line, although apart from the necessity of their formal presence they took no active role. They represent the hereditary sponsor households into which the path has been cleared and where the lha should enter. During the past, before old Tsango was abandoned, the Melong Mensey dongthan would have been a logical site for chanting the Me long sman sel rite. It lies directly on the entry path leading into old Tsango settlement – but now into the midst of the ruined village houses – and this is the route of the lha mentioned in the chant.

they must do during each Lhamoche. In some case in which sifu persons could not attend the festival, a member of their immediate family circle came in their stead since attendance cannot be missed. To be born from a sifu conception means a lifetime of special relationship with Gurzhe. Sifu persons are always given a name incorporating the element ‘Gu-’, ‘Gur-’ or ‘Guru-’ to symbolically link them to their lha ‘father’. Thus, a male child will be named Gurzhe, Gurulha, Guru Tsering or similar, and a female Gurumo, and so on. This ritual naming practice closely resembles the genealogical patronymic linkage system widely found among highland speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages.147 Nowadays, that old naming system is completely absent from my entire research region. Time has witnessed its replacement by astrologically or religiously determined names given by lamas and other Buddhist-oriented ritual specialists, and thus a Tibetan Plateau cultural practice has displaced a Himalayan one. We know the genealogical patronymic linkage system existed in certain earlier communities who have worshipped Sridpa’i lha because traces of it are preserved in ritual genealogies recorded in local manuscripts. At the time of my field research, there were quite a few sifu persons of all ages with such ‘Gu-’ or ‘Guru-’ names in the community. In general, the sifu are regarded as continuing or re-establishing the bonds between male progenitor sky deities and the social units – be they families/households, patrilineages or clans – whose mythical ancestors these deities are reckoned to be.

9.11 Festival Day Six The rites of Day Six commenced with the ritual specialist’s preparations in the Budeling house ruins at Tsumgung and their usual procession from there, this time up to Namsalang dongthan. Forming a circle, they performed the standard initial chants for each dongthan: the lhami mentally recited the Phig pa tshig gsum, and all those gathered openly recited the Bon rgyud and Skyed rgyud chants. During these chants, members of the public, primarily mature women and girls, some with children and babies, began to arrive and take up their seats within the centre of the circle (pl. 117). These persons were all sifu, conceived by Gurzhe, and had come to give thanks to their Srid-pa’i lha ‘father’, as

The lhami himself took a seat in the circle and was assisted by one of the trimpön. Each sifu person or their representative kinfolk had brought a sack filled with popped grains (boma). This they offered by way of the lhami to Gurzhe, in thanks for his providing for their on-going well-being and protection. Following the offerings, the lhami performed a long-life blessing rite for each sifu by shortly chanting the person’s name, smearing some tshe-butter upon the crown of their head, and telling them, ‘This is for you from Gurzhe’. At the high point of the rites, the total number of sifu present in the circle was fifteen. Since Gurzhe is considered to have partaken of the boma accumulated during the rite, all the sacks of popped grain were then distributed as tshogs

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to every member of the public present at Namsalang. By the end of the rite, the crowd who had gathered included the majority of the worship community.

Srid-pa’i lha Games Once the sifu rite was completed, all the junior ritual specialists removed their headgear and left behind their accoutrements. They were led by the lhami to the long stretch of meadow adjacent to Namsalang, which slopes gently down the hill from Lhazangmey towards Tashiding. Within this area, at and between these three dongthan, a series of events best described as ‘games’ took place under the lhami’s close direction. One form of these events with a purely athletic character was a contest of ‘jumping’ (chong) demonstrating virility. A second was a complex circular bro movement performance involving skilful coordination by the group. A third involved mimicking of animals with rhythmic, choreographed movements by the two performers involved at any given point, yet with no music or chant accompanying it. These events were described by some informants as intended to ‘create joy’ (gacha, cf. CT dga’ chags) for the lha, something like ‘a game’ (CT rtsed). This straightforward ‘game’ interpretation is accurate in several ways, yet it is most likely that various dimensions of the original meaning and purpose of the performances are no longer recalled at Tsango, or at least were not articulated by those giving explanations during 2012. We can deduce this because these ‘game’ events are clearly recognisable as an ensemble performed during a certain phase in other Srid-pa’i lha festivals throughout the region. In common with the ‘games’ at Tsango, these other instances are all performed immediately before the main Srid-pa’i lha at any site are farewelled back up into the sky, and in part relate to this process. Another common point is that the performers in all such events are always under the close supervision of the

8 Plate 117. The sifu thanksgiving rite at Namsalang, with sNyong La peak in the background, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 7 Plate 118. A lha’i bu troop practising jumping under the direction of the lhami at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

bon shaman, who acts as a dedicated ‘master of ceremonies’ to ensure their proper execution through the full and energetic involvement of all the performers. Prior to any of the actual ‘game’ events beginning at Lhazangmey, the lhami directed all lha’i bu to practice their chong or ‘jumping’ skills. For this, the group of young men removed their headgear and performed a series of coordinated jumps in a side-step mode while remaining in a line (pl. 118), followed by the same performance in a circle (pl. 101). When the lhami was satisfied with his charges, the first performance in the ‘games’ series, called Iyetang Pentang, began.

Iyetang Pentang No participant could explain the unusual term Iyetang Pentang, except as a proper name for the event itself and for the ritual device used in it. Earlier during the day, men from the community had cut and gathered a large pile of stems from the tall, fragrant herb Artemisia – dungmin or neu in local East Bodish languages – and some long stalks from other wild herbs. This plant material was arranged into a series of bunches with a thickness of ten to fifteen centimetres, and then plaited and bound together with a wild vine to form a sort of thick vegetal rope about seven metres in length (pl. 119). Since the Artemisia stems were all cut green, the Iyetang Pentang device had an appreciable weight. The lha’i bu were instructed by the lhami to pick up the Iyetang Pentang device and carry it upon their shoulders while spaced at regular intervals along its length. Carrying it thus, they had to move around in a circle at quite some speed with pronounced rising and falling steps, which culminated in small jumps (pl. 120 a-b). At another part of the sequence, they also wove alternately to the left and the right through a series of curves like a snake, a movement that almost, but not quite, developed into a spiral. While doing this, one half of the group had to carry the device upon their left shoulders, and the other half carried it upon their right shoulders. Several times on a cue from the lhami, they also shifted the Iyetang Pentang rope from one shoulder to the other while

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î Plate 119. Fabricating the Iyetang Pentang vegetal rope, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

íPlate 120. Iyetang Pentang movement sequence development (a.-d.) at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

a.

b.

c.

d.

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ê Plate 121. Uplifting movement by ritual specialists with a vegetal rope during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

í Plate 122. Spiral movement sequence development by ritual specialists with a vegetal rope (a.-d.) during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012.

a.

b.

c.

d.

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moving around the circle, and again this had the appearance of a spiral formation about to form (pl. 120 c-d). The skill involved was that all movements by the group of performers were, ideally, meant to be closely synchronised, and perfectly executed. I was told that at Lhazangmey during the past, the Srid-pa’i lha brothers had also performed there with an Iyetang Pentang, and that what took place during each Lhamoche was a re-enactment of their deeds. This was a somewhat standard response I received for nearly every event of this kind at Tsango, stressing their uniqueness in aetiological terms. However, I observed nearly identical movement performances also occurring at others sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship nearby, while the ethnographic record further demonstrates analogous ‘dances’ performed elsewhere along the eastern Himalayas and in premodern Siberia, frequently under the direction of shamans. All examples belong to a group of spiral movement sequences which accompany chants, rites and enacted myth sequences related to the vertical ascent and descent of shamans and deities, or their symbolic equivalents such as birds, to and from the sky. A very similar, albeit unnamed, performance is staged during Pla festivals at Lawa in the lower Khoma Chu valley. In common with Tsango’s Iyetang Pentang, the Lawa performance is staged immediately prior to the farewell for Gurzhe, and in part, it is meant to send him upwards into the sky. The whole group of Pla ritual specialists gathered in front of Lawa’s pla shing tree to farewell the deity. Together, the plami, umpa and palopa, as well as the pla’i lcam girls, all the young boys who had assisted with the incense fires, and finally the male festival marshals, ranked themselves in the order just cited and formed a tight circle while facing inwards towards its centre. In this formation, they took hold of a long vegetal rope made from Artemisia stalks, but much lighter in construction than the Iyetang Pentang at Tsango. On a cue in the chanting of the shaman, everyone simultaneously lifted the rope skywards to the height of their shoulders and then lowered it back down to waist-level (pl. 121). In rhythm to loud chanting from the whole group, this uplifting movement was repeated six times, after which the shaman began circling anticlockwise in a ‘bon circuit’

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(bon skor) with one end of the rope (pl. 122 a). He then commenced to gradually spiral inwards, thus leading all the other performers behind him on the rope into a tight spiral formation. At a certain point, the shaman then passed back outward between two persons in the spiralling chain, and began to form an outer circle around the whole formation, leading the line behind him to unwind the spiral once again (pl. 122 b-c). This was repeated twice, and then a third time during which the spiral turned inwards, when suddenly all performers dropped and crouched upon the earth with their limbs pulled tightly into their bodies and remained there motionless (pl. 122 d). This spiral movement with the vegetal rope, so strongly developed at Lawa and other sites, now survives only as an incomplete – albeit recognisable – sequence during Tsango’s Iyetang Pentang. The Lawa performance just described for upward departure of the lha bears a strong resemblance to the enactment of the descent of the lha and the bat performed at Khomagyan during Day Five of Lhamoche. It can be recalled that acting out the descent of the lha and the bat involved two circles of simultaneously stepping lha’i bu linked by holding hands, one circling inside the other, while both turned in opposite directions around the rock where the primordial descent from the sky is held to have occurred. This circling indicated the vertical descent of the lha and the bat (pl. 115). This is the only movement performance during Lhamoche in which all performers hold hands. The vegetal ropes used during Iyetang Pentang and for Lawa’s spiral movement performance have the function of linking the performers in the same way as their holding of hands does.148 Thus, there seems no doubt that these complex circling and spiralling performances all express and promote movements supposed to occur up and down the vertical cosmic access. The same performance style and meaning can be found at sites much further afield which also maintain shamanic cultures, such as in highland Nepal or Siberia.149

Boulder Jumping At a toll of the lhami’s flat bell, everyone in the Iyetang Pentang group suddenly let the vegetal rope fall to the ground,

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and then sprinted together in a race towards Namsalang. At that dongthan, there are a series of boulders with mythical significance for the local Srid-pa’i lha cult. As the runners approached the lowest of the boulders, they performed long running jumps through the air over the top of them (pl. 102). They then returned to Lhazangmey and donned their full ritual attire once again for the final event in the series of ‘games’, this one described as Plajo.

Plajo According to festival participants, the Plajo at Lhazangmey literally means ‘Pla copulation’ with Pla here understood as the ancestral deities who are the focus of worship. Dzala jo, ‘to copulate’, has cognates in Kurtöp and Dakpa jak, Bumthap ju, while Dzongkha jo cap ‘to copulate’ has apparently been borrowed into Kurtöp to mean ‘lots of sex’. 150 The Classical Tibetan verb ’ jo ba can refer to the satisfying of, or yielding to, one’s desires (it also means ‘to milk’), while ’ jo sgeg describes seductive or sexually suggestive posturing. All this defines what transpires during Plajo as a mimic performance concerning animal courtship and intercourse. Lhazangmey is the site for farewelling Phongphongzhe and later Gurzhe on their return journeys upwards through the various levels of the intermediate space, and the levels of the sky world beyond. This is always done in a specific ritual manner, using branches of the shrub Mahonia napaulensis that is known as sershing or ‘yellow wood’ due to its yellowcoloured wooden stems. Straight sershing branches of about one and a half metres in length are cut with a whorl of foliage left attached at their terminus. They look a little bit like umbrellas. A series of holes are then dug into the earth in a long row, and these branches are planted erect in each hole to form a long line directly in front of the forest margin at which the lha shing is located, and thus where the lha is considered to rest prior to departure. Sershing is a plant used around the region for exorcism and driving off negative spirits, 151 and its placement into a hole in the ground has precisely this purpose, such that the lha will not be hindered while departing back up to the sky. There is one sershing branch erected for each ritual specialist in the line,

nine in total. The number nine ref lects the ideal number of ‘soul’ components associated with a male being, and by the same logic the lha’s ‘sister’ Ribumo had seven bamboo canes erected in a line for her farewell reflecting the ideal number of ‘soul’ components associated with female beings (pl. 107). At the base of each erected sershing branch along the line, there was a pile of three white stones, and a bowl of lustration water (pl. 207). This simple combination of ritual steps and materials – an earth hole, a branch of a certain tree species, white stones and lustration liquids – for a rite dispatching a being through the ordered vertical levels of the cosmos is in fact one of significant interest from a comparative perspective, and I will return to discuss it in chapter 15. The Plajo performance requires the use of these same sershing branches by each of the specialists who participate in it, and they are thus temporarily uprooted. Plajo was actively performed by the drong, all the lha’i bu and the palopa, each taking turns sequentially in that order. The lhami stood directly in front of them calling out instructions and ensuring that everyone played their roles correctly and that all participated. Plajo involves pairs of ritual specialists taking their sershing branches and placing these between their legs at the tops of their thighs. The cut, lower end of the branch then protrudes in front to resemble an erect phallus, while the long end of the branch with its terminal whorl of foliage protrudes from the rear, as would an animal’s tail (pl. 123 a). The desired effect is in fact to mimic a rutting male animal with an erect penis ready for intercourse. Participants suggested both stallions and bovine bulls as the identities of these beasts. The performers hold both legs fast together to maintain the phallus-tail branch in position, and thus they must jump around to move. They circle each other with jumps like this several times in both directions (pl. 123 b-d), mimicking a scene of animal courtship, until one performer finally positions himself directly behind the other in the ‘male’ role and rapidly pumps his hips back and forth to mimic intercourse taking place (pl. 123 e). Sometimes the ‘male’ will clasp his ‘female’ partner during this mock copulation. This sequence is repeated several times until it is the turn of the next pair to do the same. Each performer must take a turn mounting another, and then being mounted in turn,

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a.

b.

c.

d.

e.

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until all have played both the ‘male’ and ‘female’ parts. The atmosphere recalled that prevailing during the sifu conception rite at Tashiding. On the one hand, this entire scene was regarded by all present as being uproariously funny, and most of the worship community stood on the sidelines at a distance to watch and laugh. Yet, at the same time, apart from good humour nobody was derisive or made inane comments. The performers themselves also smiled and laughed while engaged in mimicking copulation, yet nevertheless being fully aware of participating in a rite and performing their roles carefully and thoroughly. I collected different interpretations of Plajo, which in their own way are all consistent. Some persons said the purpose was to act out what the lha themselves do, their divine copulation. Others held that at the beginning of creation the lha showed beings how to procreate, and that the Plajo has always been done during Lhamoche as a renewed display of that primordial lesson in the production of life. Several men reported that any woman of childbearing age viewing Plajo could attain ngödup powers that would render her fertile. We can note that, like the Iyetang Pentang, the Plajo strongly echoes other such performances during Srid-pa’i lha festivals throughout the region, in which animal fecundity is symbolically related to human fecundity, the former pointing to the latter. It is worth reviewing a few examples here to contextualise Plajo. In the Zhamling – and later Tabi – tradition of Srid-pa’i lha worship called Pcha or Cha along the Kuri Chu valley in neighbouring Kurtö, a pantomimic rite called G.yang zhu or ‘Requesting/inviting g.yang’ was performed. For the plot, two men acted as livestock traders, one hailing from the east, speaking Dakpa and leading a mithun bull, the other from the west, speaking Ngalop (i.e., Dzongkha dialects) and leading an ox. Two other men were dressed up to mimic the respective male animals belonging to these livestock trader characters. The red, woven ceremonial belt decorated with cowrie shells and worn by the pchami (pl. 42), who are

8 Plate 123. Plajo movement sequence development (a.-e.) at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

the hereditary bon shamans in Kurtö, was used to represent a cow in heat. It was laid upon the earth to test the g.yang fertility of the bulls. Both the mithun and the ox ‘mounted’ the belt and vigorously mimicked copulation with it, after which their owners agreed that the fertility of the animals was beyond question. The two bull performers then set upon the crowd of participants gathered to view the rite and caught hold of and ‘mounted’ everyone present, regardless of age, gender or status, again vigorously mimicking copulation with them one after the other. Further down the Kuri Chu valley, among the Chocha-ngacha speaking communities of Ngang and Lhadron within Jarey district, an annual Srid-pa’i lha festival locally known as ‘Ha of the Fifth Month’ (Zla-ba lnga-pa’i lha) is staged. Each sponsor household must fabricate a model ox and a model mithun from branches of the lha shing tree into which the deity’s fertility has been transferred while he rests there. They then beat the buttocks of all other participants with these model animals as a form of ‘tshe penetration’ (tshe phog), while loudly singing this two-line chant in which their dialect pronunciation of lha is ha: The ha’s song, the mother’s song, the vagina’s song, the three! For three days and nights under the sway of the ha, there is no shame!152 Many similar examples could be cited from other festivals within the cult. I was impressed at the time of viewing Plajo at Tsango by the distance – almost a cordon sanitaire – that the viewing public, but especially all female participants, placed between themselves and the event. Perhaps similar active engagement with, and participation of the public as found in the above examples was once a part of Plajo, too, but one more recently no longer wished for? The Tsango public do indeed get some form of direct contact with Plajo, but only after the event has finished, as will be described below. I consider that Plajo, along with the parallel types of performances just cited, can best be viewed as a validation of procreation. With a blend of good humour and earnestness, it presents the procreative act as an unmistakable ‘fact of life’,

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î Plate 124. Ritual specialists with sershing sticks retreating from Gurzhe’s farewell while making a vitality harvesting gesture with their right hands and flat bells at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

í Plate 125. Collecting a sershing branch to take home at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

one upon which the very existence of animal and human life itself is completely dependant. Demonstrating the validity of procreation in various ways – socially, psychologically and, from the cosmological perspective of the participants themselves, also ontologically and materially – lays at the very heart of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in most of its manifold forms.

Two-Stage Farewell to Gurzhe Once Plajo was over, it was a simple matter for all the ritual specialists to replant their sershing branches back into the respective holes at Lhazangmey, line up in front of them, and prepare to farewell Gurzhe. Each specialist had lustration waters poured into his bowl from a supply that was kept sitting within the bow of the umkha’s horn (pl. 69), this being the spot the lha are believed to rest at within the instrument. While standing in line in front of their planted sershing branches and miniature altars, the group of specialists used this water to perform a lustration (tshan) towards the

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The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

lha shing, then followed the same bowing-style of farewell gestures as used for the other Srid-pa’i lha farewells. These were completed with a final gesture of picking up the white stones from the miniature altar at the base of the branch and hurling them into the air high above the lha shing. At this point, each ritual specialist uprooted his sershing branch, broke off its top whorl of leaves and took the remaining length of stick in hand. Without breaking ranks, the entire line of men then began a slow retreat from Lhazangmey. Still facing the lha shing tree, and hence respectfully not turning their backs upon the departing deity, they stepped backwards in unison until they had gradually moved some three metres away. All the while, they held their right hands out at waist level with palms upturned – the lhami used his flat bell in the same manner – in a final gesture to harvest vitality which is believed to ‘rain down’ in the wake of the departing deity (pl. 124). Members of the ritual specialists’ households had been waiting for this moment when the farewell retreat was completed. They flocked in to get pieces of the sershing branches, most of which were broken up with the sections distributed among the crowd (pl. 125). These sticks, which had been used as the animal phalluses during the Plajo, were taken home to the village to be employed as talismans to bring protection and increase for the household. They were placed upon the domestic altar inside the house. Other uses of smaller pieces of wood from these branches included carrying them as a protective device when travelling and making small wooden phalluses to hang around the necks of cattle to protect them while they graze. The same practice of transferring sacrificial blessings using sticks of wood from rituals placed back into the domestic environment is found in both premodern Qiang 153 and Naxi (see ch. 17) rites practiced along the far eastern Tibetan Plateau margins. After the dispersal of their empowered sershing branches to the public, the younger ritual specialists all ran down to Khomagyan to meet the lhami and drong there. While Gurzhe had just departed, it was believed he had only undertaken the first stage of his journey back up to the top of the sky. That stage initially goes from Tsango up to a palace in the air above the sNyong La peak. Thus, just prior to his

final departure from sNyong La all the way back up to the eighteenth level of the sky once again, some form of last minute appeals are made to the lha by chanting the short ritual text named Bzhal thems, which is a local spelling of classical Tibetan Zhal them. Informants understood them to mean ‘to tarry’ or ‘hesitate’, as well as describing the ‘threshold’ between different spaces, such as the main doorstep of the house, or stages along an axis, such as rungs on a ladder or steps of a staircase. In context, it clearly has this double meaning of ‘waiting’ at the first ‘step’ of the lha’s vertical journey. The word zhal is the honorific for ‘face’, thus Bzhal thems (i.e., CT Zhal them) can be understood as signifying a personal address while waiting. The short Bzhal thems chant is composed of pithy metaphorical statements of what people desire from the deity, plus a few rather blunt requests. It is basically another expression of smon lam or ‘aspirations’ as found in other ritual texts for Lhamoche, albeit the last urgent one being made before the deity is due to return only in another two years time. While all the ritual specialists stood together in a line at Khomagyan facing directly up towards sNyong La, it was only the young lha’i bu group who chanted the Bzhal thems. None of the public came to Khomagyan for this final farewell, although there was no restriction placed on attendance. Their absence was rather calculated. As soon as the Bzhal thems chant was completed, and the lha was considered to have returned completely to the sky world, all the behavioural restrictions imposed for Lhamoche came to an end. The ritual specialists themselves took off their headgear and went up to their huts to relax. Within minutes of the restrictions being lifted, transistor radios could be heard playing popular Bhutanese music in the huts, while many people began singing folk songs. When darkness fell, a long night of community folk dancing, singing and celebrating ensued.

9.12 Festival Day Seven Due to logistical problems, I was unable to directly observe the conclusion of the 2012 Lhamoche on Day Seven. It consisted of two short rites, which are reported here according

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to a reconstruction by participants in subsequent interviews. The first rite involved opening the three palo devices. These were taken to the spring at Shotakang opposite Tsumgung dongthan. The ritual specialists removed the cock feathers and all the cloth ribbons from the palo frames. These were then taken from hut to hut and distributed to all the participants, who used them as protective devices to maintain their pla and thus for general well-being and protection. The documentation in chapter 7 of palo rites which I was able to participate in and record at Lawa can be compared here for an account of the same rites performed by another nearby Khoma Chu valley community. The very last rite of Lhamoche was dedicated to expelling sa ’dre demons from the entire area of the Khoma Chu valley between the Reb La pass downstream of Khomakang and the sNyong La mountain and adjacent sPang La pass above Dingchung. The lha’i bu, each wearing a piece of cloth over their heads, and taking the role of warriors, went from hut to hut and repeated a procedure to remove demons. Each hut owner made a hook-like shape out of plaited straw, which the lha’i bu attached to sticks they carried for the purpose. They struck everything inside and outside the huts, and symbolically hooked and dragged any demons away from the domicile, its inhabitants and their belongings. All these straw hooks were then gathered and taken down to the lowest edge of the ritual ground below Khomagyan, where the lhami was waiting. He burnt them all there upon a fire as a final act of expulsion. The lha’i bu went to the Shotakang spring and washed their faces and hands, symbolising washing off the blood of the battle they had just waged against the demons. They proceeded to a site next to Tsumgung dongthan where the drong performed what was called be ’cham, which in Bhutan refers to a type of victory dance to celebrate overcoming hostile forces. After that, all those participants who did not intend to remain at Tsango to tend grazing cattle then packed and departed for their permanent houses back in Khomakang and Dingchung settlements, while participants from Longkhar in Bumdeling began the long journey home.

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9.13 Transformations Tsango’s Lhamoche was undoubtedly a very rich and sophisticated festival at the time I participated in it. Yet, certain rites, such as those involving hunting and blood sacrifice, had become substantially modified in recent times, while others, like the sel cycle, appeared to be in steep decline, to the point of perhaps becoming completely discontinued. At many other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship sampled during my research, there was a discernable shortening of festival programs taking place, mainly as a response to lowering levels of participation by ritual specialists and sponsors, who invariably cited out-migration and time pressure as reasons for this. These factors were only more marginally present at Tsango. A complex of other factors lay behind the decline of sel rites there, and it is possible to gain a partial insight into this process. Considered in retrospect, a primary cause of the decline of sel rites at Tsango had been the status of the very elderly lhami. While a respected specialist among the community, this lhami began his role at around sixty years of age and was over eighty at the time of my visits to Tsango. His weakening powers of memorisation were obvious in the amount of prompting he required from an assistant who read ritual texts from the manuscripts alongside him during most rites. Coupled with this, is the fact that this lhami was non-literate. His only access to the rabs texts besides his own memory was through hearing the written versions chanted by his literate assistants during rites. Since the manuscripts are supposed to remain stored carefully away in a sealed shrine within the lhami’s house during all times outside of the actual period of annual worship, in theory the lhami only had one chance per year to listen to others chanting any ritual texts he himself may not have fully retained in memory. Compared with other rabs, the sel cycle represents a significant memorisation challenge. It is a long and relatively complex set of different texts, and moreover one chanted only once during a Lhamoche whereas various other texts are repeated daily at each major dongthan – and these, I noted, the lhami could recite perfectly without hesitation or prompting.

The Lh a moche Festi va l of Tsa ngo

Another factor that has shaped the lowering of interest in maintaining sel rites is changing perceptions of their continuing relevance. This issue itself is related to an interrelated set of local socio-economic and religious developments. Many of the perceived benefits gained from maintaining a special ritual relationship with the group of lha led by the pho lha, but especially the overall level of well-being for the household and its members, are now considered to be available by sponsoring a Buddhist lama and his assistants to conduct the annual rites (lo mchod) within individual houses towards the end of each year. Khomakang and Dingchung have never had a Buddhist temple – there is no record that old Tsango ever did either – nor has the community enjoyed easy access to lamas and ordained or well-trained Buddhist ritual specialists. Since the late nineteenth century foundation of the rNying-ma-pa school Buddhist temple at Gönpakab in the lower Khoma valley, a resident lama and groups of gomchen have been more regularly available to perform rites for village clients throughout the valley. Yet, it requires significant resources to support a lama and his party of assistants to travel from Gönpakab to upper Khoma Chu villages, and then host them for the total time required to stage lo mchod in each sponsor house of the settlements. Several elaborate altars must also be built up for the yi dam and its retinue who are invoked during a lo mchod. In addition to this logistical investment, the lo mchod I observed at Khomakang had become a somewhat competitive arena for status differentiation between village households. In recent years, certain households have accumulated new economic surpluses from hiring horses and hosting pilgrims and other travellers going up the valley to the holy place of Senge Dzong. Some of this wealth was being invested in staging lo mchod rites. Beyond funding all the religious requirements, lo mchod in Khomakang also entails the household hosting the visiting lama and his party, as well as the household’s wider kin and affinal networks, to a feast and drinks. Staging a lo mchod in this elaborated manner has become something of a status marker since it demonstrates a household’s surplus resources and thus vitality and success. While this form of village Buddhism offers the opportunity for individual households to profile themselves relative to others, communal Srid-pa’i

lha worship does not. During Lhamoche, sponsorship roles and investments are all communally agreed and organised, either as hereditary responsibilities or rotated in an egalitarian manner, while the whole community hosts itself to a feast that everyone contributes to and prepares jointly. Lhamoche allows no scope for individual persons or households to distinguish themselves from others.

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Th e A h e y lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a du ng

10.1 Community, History and Environs Changmadung is somewhat of an outlier in relation to the main clusters of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities throughout the research region (map 6). The closest viable worship community was located across the international frontier in Tawang during the time of my field research. There is a good reason for this relative isolation and break from the overall distribution pattern of the cult across the region. Changmadung and the small neighbouring settlements of Memung and Pangpala, are populated by descendants of migrant ancestors who arrived there from Kheng Chikor and the mid-Kuri Chu valley approximately a century ago. According to local oral history, this migration occurred mainly to escape the burden of excessive taxation, but especially compulsory corvée labour.1 Such internal migrations were common within Bhutan prior to and during the early period of the hereditary monarchy, when localised taxation burdens often reached intolerable levels. Many individuals, families, or even whole villages in some instances, departed for the far eastern borderlands of the country. They did so in order to put some distance between themselves and the extractive regimes impacting their lives, namely the state administrative and monastic system, and those collateral families connected with the fledgling Wangchuk Dynasty throne forming a relatively new local elite. 2 Furthermore, during the early twentieth century, many hillside sites around the Doksum confluence of the Kholong Chu and Drangmé Chu rivers, and along the nearby Gamri Chu valley, were still covered in forest with few established settlements, and lands were available upon which such migrants might resettle. Documentation of Changmadung’s main Srid-pa’i lha worship event, the annual Aheylha festival, thus allows an ideal

opportunity to consider the relocation of this ritual tradition, its durability, and ways in which it has been adapted within a context of migration and resettlement. Furthermore, Changmadung provides insights into how another profound and rather recent development in Bhutan’s social history – out-migration from rural villages to developing urban centres – is transforming the practice of Srid-pa’i lha worship. To help consider dimensions of transfer and adaptation of the Aheylha festival from its origin place, I will be comparing certain aspects of the festival at Changmadung with the Kharpu festival staged at Nyimshong in Kheng Chikor, which is thought to be closest to the origin point of Changmadung’s founding migrant ancestors. Changmadung is a modest-sized hillside village located in the local administrative area of Tomzhangtshen, near the far eastern frontier of Bhutan. Its houses and fields are scattered across east-facing mid-slopes more than one vertical kilometre above the Doksum conf luence. The lower tree line for permanent forest is only a hundred metres above the village precinct. Across the valley towards the east, the view is of a low mountain range, along the top of which runs the international border with the Dakpa speaking Tawang District of India, a mere twelve kilometres distant. In most respects, Changmadung is entirely typical of low-income, subsistence farming communities in the far east of Bhutan. Nowadays, the villagers mainly cultivate maize and rice as staples, and maintain a few grazing animals to supply their dairy products. All Changmadung households are Buddhist and followers of rNying-ma-pa school teachings. There is a small village temple, and in terms of household worship, both Peling and Nyingthig liturgies are used for the annual rites.

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According to Changmadung oral histories, one set of village ancestors migrated from settlements along the Jamkhar Chu valley in Kheng Chikor, while another came from the mid-Kuri Chu valley around Tsamang. Today, both those ancestral areas have Srid-pa’i lha worship communities who still celebrate versions of the Kharpu festival. At the time of my field research, Changmadung residents aged in their thirties and forties counted themselves as the fifth generation since their ancestors arrived and resettled there. The original migrants were a mix of Khengkha and Chocha-ngacha speakers, yet today only some Pangpala residents can still speak the language of their Kheng forefathers, while Changmadung and Memung have linguistically assimilated almost completely to Chocha-ngacha and Tshangla. In the much older communities of Tsango, Thempang and Lhau described in the chapters of part IV, we find longestablished, historically attested forms of social organisation and hierarchy based upon hereditary in each community. These typically relate to a set of overlapping frames of reference, including clan or descent lineage identities, membership of certain localised ‘nobilities’ or dominant elites, as well as the former taxpayer status of households in premodern times. By comparison, Changmadung lacks all such indicators and is a relatively egalitarian community. Thus, socially it is very much an artefact of its migrant history and recent foundation. Changmadung has also been shaped by national level policies of selective social reforms during the late 1950s, and the following era of modernisations. These so-called modernisations left hereditary privilege intact among royalty and religious lineages, while encouraging far higher degrees of social and economic mobility among the general population. Villagers usually explain who they are in relation to both their agnatic and uterine forebears without distinction, except that, when pushed, they tend to defer to a patrilineal ‘bone’ identity. This is typical of rural social practice across much of Bhutan today, where a bilateral calculus is socially strategic for representing possible links to distant persons to achieve certain goals more smoothly, or in times of crisis. Invocation of one’s ‘bone’ is also emulation, to some extent, of the prestigious pattern still found among enduring royal and religious elites.

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10.2 Migration and Revival of Rites Upon inquiring whether a lineage of Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialists had also migrated to Changmadung from one of the ancestral areas, I received interesting responses describing a series of adaptations that occurred due to the fact of migration and relocation. During the first generation or two of community resettlement in Tomzhangtshen, there had been no Srid-pa’i lha worship performed; the migrant ancestors had initially made no effort to relocate any of their ritual traditions. However, after experiencing a period during which continuous illnesses plagued the settlers, as well as the death of many cattle due to disease, divinations were performed to establish the cause of these on-going misfortunes. The results revealed that because the settlers had not continued to worship their Srid-pa’i lha deities as they had annually done while living back in Kheng and the Kuri Chu valley, their life force and fortune was in decline and became seriously compromised. Since Srid-pa’i lha worship cannot be performed without accurate and accomplished chanting of the rabs narratives, an expedition back to Kheng Chikor had to be undertaken to retrieve copies of the rabs that the ancestors had used. Meme Shounu is remembered as the man who did this, returning to Changmadung after copying two written texts in Kheng that contained all the original rabs. One elderly man of eighty-seven years who was still alive during my fieldwork in Changmadung, and who served as the ritual master (sozin) of the village temple, claimed that he had already been born at the time when Meme Shounu obtained copies of these rabs texts from Kheng. Meme Shounu was subsequently recognised as the first of Changmadung’s bon po ritual specialists, although as far as we know he had no hereditary lineage. After Meme Shounu all subsequent bon po in Changmadung have been appointed by consensus of the community. Following Meme Shounu, Meme Tashi was appointed as the bon po. He was then followed by Meme Ngonchung, and Meme Sangpola, and finally by Changchub Dorji who was bon po of Changmadung at the time of my field research. In every case, the retiring bon po had actively trained his successor, yet the transitions were not always smooth.

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

When Meme Ngonchung retired as Changmadung’s bon po, a certain Tsewang was appointed as his successor by the village. However, Tsewang had no wish to take over the role of bon po, so he buried the rabs manuscripts in the ground at an undisclosed location. When it became known that the precious manuscripts had vanished, the villagers told Tsewang that he could relinquish the role provided he returned the texts to the community so that they could seek another candidate. Tsewang exhumed the texts and handed them over, although they were badly damaged by humidity and remain only partially readable on many folios.3 According to all my fieldwork observations throughout the region, such abusive treatment of rabs texts is unthinkable among hereditary bon po, who protect their manuscripts meticulously by applying strict conditions of access and use. Preparations for the annual Aheylha festival at Changmadung always commence during the second week of the ninth lunar month and peak during the middle of that month. The timing is set in relation to the observable occultation of the moon and the rising Pleiades constellation (CT sKar-ma sMin-drug) in the night sky during each autumn. This has been a very well known and widespread phenomenon in many premodern societies. Around midnight during November, the Pleiades reach their highest point in the northern hemisphere skies and have various occultations with the moon. These have frequently been used by premodern peoples as astronomical references for seasonal and production cycle transitions, and as markers in ritual calendars. This has been the case in Tibetan societies also, with the intercalary period from the sixteenth day of the ninth lunar month until the fifteenth day of the tenth lunar month when this occultation occurs being known by the special term smin drug zla ba or ‘Pleiades Month’. 4 All this precisely follows the ritual calendar still used for Kharpu festivals back in the ancestral villages in Kheng Chikor from where Changmadung settlers once migrated. Variations of Kharpu are found along the Khengkha speaking Jamkhar Chu valley, in a few Gongdukha speaking villages to the east of Kheng Chikor, but also in some Chocha-ngacha speaking communities along the west bank of the mid-Kuri Chu valley just north and south of Mongar.5 Kharpu among these latter Chocha-ngacha-speakers is always celebrated

during the fourth to fifth lunar months at the time of the spring appearance of the Pleiades, and this confirms all other available evidence indicating that Aheylha is derived from earlier forms of the festival in Kheng areas, just as local oral tradition claims. In former times, the three migrant settlements of Changmadung, Memung and Pangpala all celebrated their relocated Aheylha festival exactly according to the original Kheng ritual calendar, which led to problems for the early Changmadung bon po specialists. As we will see below, the ritual sequence of Aheylha requires the bon po to be active both day and night over several days. During the past, the bon po had to keep this exhausting level of activity up for an extended period of time since he first performed the rites in Changmadung, then separately repeated them again in Memung, and finally in Pangpala. To ease the strain upon the bon po, the Pangpala villagers appointed Meme Penden to receive training on how to perform the Aheylha festival from the second bon po of Changmadung, Meme Tashi. At the same time, a second set of manuscripts recording the rabs texts were copied for Pangpala to use. Today, Meme Penden’s son, Meme Wangdi, serves as the Pangpala bon po, leaving bon po Changchub Dorji to preside over the Aheylha of the Changmadung and Memung settlements only. Following the difficulties mentioned above in finding a bon po successor for Meme Ngonchung, Meme Sangpola was then chosen as the new bon po of Changmadung. He was twenty-three years of age when appointed and served for a total of thirty years. His retirement was forced due to development of a speech impediment, which meant he could no longer clearly chant the rabs; something believed to be of central importance for the role of bon po. When Changchub Dorji, the current bon po, was twenty-two years old, he was appointed as Meme Sangpola’s successor and then fully trained by him. From the age of six, Changchub Dorji had already learned to read Tibetan script with an old village lama, and this proved highly useful for his future role as bon po. Changchub Dorji was forty-six years old at the time I began my field research, and he can continue in his position for as long as he is able to perform it properly since there is no age limit for a bon po. Like nearly all the bon po I

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met, Changchub Dorji performs his role as a voluntary duty for the community, without receiving formal compensation. He does, however, gain cash offerings when providing divinations for individuals and families during the Aheylha festival, or when childless couples request the fertility blessings (seefu) of the Srid-pa’i lha to conceive a baby. At other times, he also receives offerings of rice and alcohol when he performs healing rites for the sick. In terms of his profile as a bon po, Changchub Dorji is typical of all other bon po I met back in the ancestral area of Kheng Chikor. There, we find a consistent pattern of decline in most of the hereditary lineages of bon po. The reason why so many hereditary lineages have declined particularly in this area of Kheng is not known with certainty. However, we might speculate it to be in part a result of the factors we have already mentioned, namely earlier periods of community instability due to out-migration, as well as increasing Buddhist activity. Additionally, the original bon po were in a hereditary lineage of certain important households, especially those identified as gDung families. With the decline of these households, which occurred especially under the period of twentieth century monarchy, and their gradual withdrawal from any central role in sponsorship of annual Srid-pa’i lha festivals, the position of their bon po became increasingly tenuous. One major difference between hereditary bon po elsewhere and those who assume the role due to community appointment, such as at Changmadung and in communities around Kheng Chikor,6 is that while the former must strictly observe all their personal ritual restrictions for life, the latter only do so temporarily. Thus, for the entire period of the Aheylha festival, beginning from the first day of the ninth lunar month, up until the evening of the nineteenth day, Changchub Dorji must not consume meat of any kind (including fish), nor eggs, onion and garlic. For the same period, he abstains from any intimate relations with his wife, and must avoid any contact with persons and houses recently associated with birth and death due to their polluting status. During Aheylha, he also bathes carefully each day and wears only clean clothing. Failure to observe these temporary restrictions is believed to lower the efficacy of the Srid-pa’i lha worship he performs, as well as erode his own lifespan. Apart from these observances during the

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festival period, and performance of occasional ritual services on behalf of individual persons or families at other times, Changchub Dorji has a lifestyle and status no different than any other rural villager in the area. To sum up thus far the changes to local Srid-pa’i lha worship directly related to its relocation in the case of the Changmadung migrant community, there have been three clear consequences. The first was the loss of any hereditary lineage of ritual specialists and necessary shift to the appointment of the bon po by community consensus. A second was the partial loss of the rabs narratives due to damage to the manuscripts during an unsuccessful appointment process. Finally, due to the dynamics of resettlement, there was the creation of a completely new bon po post, together with a duplication of the rabs manuscripts and the staging of a parallel Aheylha festival in Pangpala. While documentation of Aheylha only offers a single example, some of the mechanisms of change we can observe in it are perhaps typical of the gradual spreading and transformation of the Srid-pa’i lha cult over longer periods of time throughout the region. There have been other significant changes in the actual ritual practice of the Aheylha festival at Changmadung that are also directly related to the relocation because of migration. These changes will be discussed in the following description of the Aheylha festival staged during November 2011.7

10.3 The Aheylha Festival of 2011 The 2011 Changmadung Aheylha festival had a three-day duration. It began on the fifteenth day of the ninth Bhutanese lunar month (= 10 November), and was completed by evening on the seventeenth day (= 12 November). The daily schedule was as follows: Day One ○○ Preparation of altars and shrine. ○○ Assembly of offering materials and food items. ○○ Ritual ablutions and dressing in costume. ○○ Invitation to and arrival of the Srid-pa’i lha in the bon po’s house.

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

○○ Installing the Srid-pa’i lha at the outdoor shrine. ○○ g.Yang bestowal and divination for livestock. ○○ Communal feast. ○○ Dispatch of the Srid-pa’i lha back to the sky. Day Two ○○ Returning the Srid-pa’i lha back down to earth. ○○ Rites for divinely conceived children. ○○ Individual divinations. ○○ Liquor offerings to the Srid-pa’i lha at the outdoor shrine. ○○ Dispatch of the Srid-pa’i lha back to the sky. Day Three ○○ Returning the Srid-pa’i lha back down to earth. ○○ Offerings in the domestic microcosm. ○○ Bro performances by the bon po and lha’i bu. ○○ Dispatch of the Srid-pa’i lha back to the sky. During the three days of the festival, various prohibitions are in force for the whole worship community. These include a ban on engaging in any productive work like farming, herding and harvesting in the forests that makes a disturbance, the requirement to eat purely vegetarian food for the communal meal, a ban on cooking or consuming pork, avoiding drunkenness and social conflict, and so on. These are the standard, and virtually universal observances for all Srid-pa’i lha festivals.

Name of Festival The name Aheylha is based upon a chanted expression of invocation and praise to the Srid-pa’i lha deities locally called Aheylha kyi or the ‘Aheylha chant’. The chant itself is simply the sound Ahey that is frequently and loudly chanted by the bon po and the lha’i bu at specific points during the rites, and always in combination with movement performances call bro staged for the deities. It is written A he and A ha’i as the very first syllables in the Changmadung rabs manuscript, but the final lha element only exists in the spoken name Aheylha designating the festival itself. The Ahey chant originally derives from the villagers’ ancestral Kheng Chikor homeland, where the variant invocation Ahoy is still

chanted during the annual worship of Srid-pa’i lha. The name Aheylha at Changmadung thus represents another change compared with the Kheng festivals from which it is descended, since the latter are almost all commonly referred to as Kharpu. Aheylha chanting normally commences on the eighth day of the ninth lunar month with the first rites to invite the deities from the sky and lasts until they are sent back to the sky a final time on the very last evening of the festival. Villagers believe the Ahey chant is more than a necessary part of the rites, and regard it as representing a protective power associated with the deities. They say that if it is chanted people will avoid accidents and misfortune, and if one has a fall or similar misadventure during the festival, by immediately chanting Ahey broken bones and serious injury can be avoided. The opposite is also true, and thus Ahey chanting and bro movements may not be performed at any other time of the year outside of the festival calendar, otherwise one risks being struck down.

Ritual Texts As with all intact Srid-pa’i lha worship, the order of most individual rites during Aheylha festivals is based upon the sequence of rabs recorded in the bon po’s ritual texts. Throughout the 2011 festival described herein, bon po Changchub either chanted directly from his ‘working copy’ of the manuscript (Changmadung 1 in References), or consulted another copy in which the purely oral sections had also recently been recorded for memorisation and preservation purposes (Changmadung 4 in References). The complete rabs sequence for the Aheylha festival according to the manuscripts – with title or section wording unedited – is listed on figure 13. In addition to these twenty-six rabs, and other chants of varying length, all presently recorded in the ritual texts, we also find several which still only exist in a purely oral form, or which are no longer included. One of the most important rabs has not been committed to writing. This describes the itinerary of the bon po on his verbal ritual journey to the top of the sky world to invite the Srid-pa’i lha, and is the very

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no.

text title

translation

1

Khrus rabs

Narrative of ablution

2

Bsang rabs

Narrative of purification

3

Lha zhu rabs

Narrative of inviting/requesting the lha

4

Lha’i rten btsugs dgos rabs

Narrative of required ritual supports for the lha

5

Lha’i rten du btsugs rabs

Narrative of establishing ritual supports for the lha

6

Sgam chen pha wang lha gdan ’dren zhu bar btang rabs

Narrative of sGam-chen Pha-wang dispatched with a request to invite the lha

7

Sgam chen pha wang gis lha dang mjal te zhu ba phul rabs

Narrative of sGam-chen Pha-wang meeting with the lha and presenting an invitation

8

Bya ne tso gdan ’dren zhu bar btang rabs

Narrative of the parrot bird dispatched with a request to invite [the lha]

9

Smra mkhan ne tso lha chen mjal nas zhu bar phul rabs

Narrative of the talking parrot meeting with the lha chen and presenting his request

10

Lha byon rabs

Narrative of the lha’s arrival

11

Lha dang ston pa gshen rab gnyis mjal rabs

Narrative of the lha and ston pa gShen-rab meeting each other

12

Mda’ rabs

Narrative of the ritual arrow

13

’Phan rabs

Narrative of the ritual pennant

14

Shug pa’i byon lam ’tshol rabs

Narrative of seeking out a travel path [to find] juniper

15

Lha’i khri rabs

Narrative of the lha’s throne

16

Sgo rabs dang zhu ba phul ba

Door narrative and presenting an invitation [for tshe and g.yang to enter]

17

Tshe dang g.yang gyi bcol rabs

Narrative for bestowal of tshe and g.yang

18

Chang mchod phul ba

Presenting offering beer

19

Tshe g.yang zhu rabs

Narrative for requesting tshe and g.yang

20

Tshe g.yang bcol rabs

Narrative for bestowing tshe and g.yang

21

Tshe’i sgo rabs

Narrative for [sealing] the door to the tshe

22

G.yang gi chags rabs

Narrative for keeping hold of the g.yang

23

Gnam zla dus tshigs kyi rabs

Narrative with verses [about the four]8 seasons of the year

24

Dar tshigs smon lam

Aspiration verses

25

Lha gu ru bzhes mi A ma rnams la smon lam gnang bar ’dod pa Wishing for lha Gurzhe’s bestowal of aspirations to human mothers

26

Rma bya’i tshang ’tshol rabs

Narrative of seeking the peacock’s nest

é Figure 13. Main ritual texts for Aheylha festivals at Changmadung.

392

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

first chanted in the overall performance of the festival. It must be chanted from memory in the form in which it has been orally transmitted down through the bon po lineage at Changmadung. One possible reason for maintaining its exclusive oral form was the fact of innovation due to the migration, the need to adapt the itinerary to a new local topography. There could have been some degree of self-consciousness on the part of the original migrant ritual specialists about the obvious deviation from the ancestral Kheng itineraries this new itinerary represented. Additionally, a certain esoteric quality may be attributed to the verbal itinerary since it must be visualised by the bon po as he chants it, and this intimate cognitive exercise, akin to a form of active meditation, is one of the primary specialisations that define his position. Furthermore, several short narratives, fragments of which are only partially legible at the beginning and end of the old damaged manuscript (Changmadung 3 in References), are no longer in use. Most Srid-pa’i lha worship in the original Kheng homeland of the Changmadung community includes a basic cosmogony or Narrative of the Creation of the World (Sa’i chags rabs, or Srid pa’i chags rabs), chanted during the initial phases of festivals. This cannot be used at Changmadung since almost all the wording in the manuscripts is now illegible. This is also the case for a text entitled Spre’u kha ching bsngags or Spell that Binds the Mouth of the Monkey. This was formerly employed as a ritual protection for harvest crops, against the annual ravages by forest monkeys that are the bane of all grain cultivators in the eastern Himalayas. Such spells can also be found used in Kheng Kharpu festivals today. Finally, the last public event of the Aheylha festival is a bro movement performance featuring mimicking of stags, yet the entire Sha ba rabs that should accompany it has been lost from the end of the old manuscript. This same bro and its complete rabs are still performed today in the Kheng origin region of Changmadung’s Srid-pa’i lha rites. It has been possible to use recordings of Sha ba rabs from Kheng Chikor to compare with the stag performance still surviving within the Aheylha festival. The 2011 Aheylha festival commenced on the fifteenth day of the ninth Bhutanese lunar month, later than its usual

starting date on the eighth day of the same month. This was because bon po Changchub’s arrival in Changmadung had been delayed while he conducted other rites for villagers living in Mongar township. His late arrival meant a certain amount of compression of the timeframe for the festival, as well as some major omissions. For example, chanting the entire and lengthy story of the origins of Srid-pa’i lha worship as conveyed in the complex of rabs relating to the messenger bat sGam-chen Pha-wang (fig. 13, nos. 6-11), was omitted due to time constraints. This version of the sGam-chen Pha-wang narrative used at Changmadung represents an interesting variation of this popular narrative found among other Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. In it, we find the ritual specialist gShen-rab Mi-bo selecting the bat as his first choice to send as messenger to invite the Srid-pa’i lha down to earth. However, the bat is ultimately rejected as a messenger by the sky deities due to his physical appearance and returning to earth he informs gShen-rab Mi-bo of his failure and recommends instead that the gshen use the ‘talking parrot’ (smra mkhan ne tso) as the messenger. The parrot successfully invites the sky deities, and upon his return, he informs gShen-rab Mi-bo of the need to be ready with nine types of ritual items and skills (lha chas sna dgu) for the reception of the lha on earth. These include a white turban (thod dkar), an archer’s thumb ring (mtheb kor),9 a melodious singing and speaking voice (dbyangs snyan gsung snyan), a white flag or pennant to wave to the lha (lha dar dkar po ’phyar), a juniper branch to be set up as the lha’s tree (lha shing shug pa btsugs), a white seating mat laid out for the lha (lha gdan dkar po bting), making much incense from various trees for incense to fumigate the lha (shing sna spos sna man po byas // lha la bsang btang), making much medicinal lustrations from various waters for ablution of the lha (chu sna sman sna man po byas // lha la khrus byas), and finally two animals the lha will find attractive, the lha’s bird which is the wild goose or duck (lha bya ngang pa) whose plumage has a radiant lustre (bkrag mdangs), and the lha’s white-faced sheep (lha lug zhal dkar) whose bleating call (’bod sgra) is like a wavering lament.10 Certain items on this list define to some extent the material culture of the contemporary rites for Aheylha, while others testify to what has been lost or changed over time.

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10.4 Setting and Preparations On the higher areas of the Changmadung hillside, a small Buddhist community temple occupies a hillock behind which a few houses are positioned. Around these, one or two limited areas of flat ground are to be found. It is at such a level place just behind (west of) a local house that the main public festival site for Aheylha was situated, in the middle of a recently harvested maize field (pl. 126). The other key place of ritual is within the modest shrine room (chos sham) of the nearby house of bon po Changchub himself. This spatial arrangement for ritual performance located partly within a bon po’s or a hereditary sponsor family’s house and partly within the village precinct adjacent to the hereditary sponsor or ritual specialist dwelling is typical of many Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged in the Kheng region and its peripheries. In contrast, sites throughout the Kuri Chu valley also tend to incorporate a local ridge or hilltop within their festivals and frequently also base themselves around a sacred tree – often in a sacred grove – located somewhere at the boundary between the forest and the human domestic sphere above the village. And at

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é Plate 126. Site of the lha brang shrine for the Aheylha festival, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

sites from the Khoma valley all the way eastwards as far as Dirang in the Mon-yul Corridor, there are worship events located in the sacred groves or forest clearings that constitute named festival grounds at or within which all the major rituals are staged. As is the case in almost every Srid-pa’i lha festival, an outdoor shrine of sorts is used to host the deities when they are present for worship. At Changmadung, this shrine is called lha brang and is merely of a temporary nature, being constructed as part of the initial preparations for the event. It is made from sticks, banana leaves and tall leaf-bearing tree branches or saplings. All these materials must be freshly cut from the nearby forest, meaning they must be of ‘natural’ and therefore ‘pure’ origins. The sticks are lashed to form a simple, square wooden platform about one and a half metres along each side, and one metre above the ground. This platform is covered with a layer of fresh banana leaves

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

power a naked light bulb hanging from the top of the front arch to illuminate the rites conducted after sunset (pl. 127).

é Plate 127. Lha brang shrine during a nocturnal rite, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

upon which offerings are placed. Thus, the leaf platfom is an altar. A frame is erected about one metre above the altar platform, and for the evening rites or in case of rain a plastic sheet can be extended over it to form a canopy protecting the offerings on the platform. The whole platform and its framing is then surrounded by a series of seven leafy branches called lha shing about three or four metres in height, and which are erected upright in the ground. The villagers popularly regard these trees as providing shade for the lha at the shrine, which is ironic since the bon shaman reported that lha are often present at the outdoor shrine only for nocturnal rites and escorted back to the sky during the day. The shrine is completed by adding bunches of fresh flowers which are tied at intervals all around the wood supports forming the front arch, and through which all offerings are placed onto the shrine’s platform. Since Changmadung is now an electrified village, an electric cable was run out of the nearby house and across to the shrine in order to

The construction of, and materials for the lha brang shrine are obviously intended to emulate a grove of real forest trees. Moreover, their lha shing designation indicates they are equivalent to the trees on which the deities commonly alight while on earth in the sacred groves at other sites further to the north and east. Identical shrines at Nyimshong, and in the Kheng Chikor origin area of the village’s population (pl. 128), are also located remote from both forest and any large, dedicated lha shing tree, and are all erected instead in fields on the outskirts of settlements. They represent an adaptation of rites originating in northern highland areas heavily forested in montane and alpine conifers, and hence by the favoured lha shing species and with forest groves, then moved further away to lower hill country areas which are more temperate and sub-tropical and intensively cultivated in the south of the region. An interesting relic of the cultural history behind this transformation is the occurrence within the rabs collection used at Changmadung of a redundant Narrative of Seeking Out a Travel path [to find] Juniper (Shug pa’i byon lam ’tshol rabs), a chant which cites juniper as being the lha shing. While no juniper tree is used as a lha shing in southern festivals like Aheylha, that species and others within the family Cupressaceae certainly are the most common sacred tree species for Srid-pa’i lha festivals in the highland northern areas such as Bumthang, Kurtö and Khoma. In part V, I argue that areas such as Kheng – from where Aheylha originated – lay at the southern terminus of older migrations by ancestral gDung populations who carried the cult with them from northern areas over time as they dispersed and resettled. The presence together of the lha brang shrine representing a sacred grove in village fields, and a redundant ritual narrative of the juniper lha shing, are both traces of this older process and adaptations it effected in Srid-pa’i lha worship. Immediately in front of the lha brang, a flat area serves as the ground upon which the bon po and his assistants will chant and step bro. Such specific ritual sites for shrines and rite performances are generally known as doksa in all more southern areas of Srid-pa’i lha worship. This is not a

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î Plate 128. Lha brang shrine during a nocturnal rite, Nyimshong, Jamkhar Chu valley, 2014.

é Plate 129. Dampai torma ritual cakes offered to Srid-pa’i lha, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

ê Plate 130. Bon po preparing f lower thrones for the Srid-pa’i lha, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

396

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

word originating from local languages, but rather derives from written Tibetan dog sa, literally ‘narrow place’, and is a term often found designating the earth in general in older Tibetan cosmological narratives and myths, but also refers to ritual sites. A man known as the arpo (CT Ar po) assists the bon po at every festival. This term can have different context-dependent connotations, including labourer, assistant and bodyguard. I found the same term used for the assistants of the bon po at sites such as Nyimshong in the mid-Jamkhar Chu valley of Kheng Chikor, origin place of Changmadung’s Srid-pa’i lha worship tradition. The 2011 arpo incumbent was a man aged forty-six who had done the task in previous years. Besides supervising preparations, one of the arpo’s main functions is to receive and manage all the offerings of liquor and some edible items that are used during the rites. The arpo is joined by a small group of male volunteers, who together perform a very wide range of tasks and roles from shrine building to chanting and performances of bro movements. In 2011, the lha brang shrine was constructed and decorated by these men on the fifteenth day, as soon as bon po Changchub returned from Mongar since he himself directly supervised the construction work. A simple outdoor hearth is also built to cook for the communal feast, thus removing this activity from the potentially polluted inner environment of the domestic kitchen. Inside the bon po’s house, rice was boiled to prepare some white dough (zan) with which to form fifteen special ritual cakes called dampai torma (pl. 129). These are the main edible offering item presented to the deities at the outside shrine. Although the term torma (CT gtor ma) is used, as at other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship these ritual cakes are regarded purely as edible hospitality for the lha, and are consumed as tshogs by all worshippers such that the deity’s life powers are transferred to them by way of ingestion. The bon po and arpo fashion the fifteen white cakes into elongated towers, each decorated on top with an ornamental ‘stack’ consisting of slices of different foods, including orange fruit, a type of small guava (pepsiu), ginger root, fresh cheese and butter (pl. 129). This type of tall white ritual cake

is sometimes depicted in painted images of ancestral deities elsewhere in the region (pl. 12). Additionally, when bon po Changchub returned from Mongar to Changmadung via the road and paths leading up from the valley floor far below, he collected a great quantity and variety of fresh flowers from people’s gardens in the lower settlements and from the local school and carried these to his shrine room. There, he and the arpo sorted the f lowers and formed them into the bunches (pl. 130) which were tied upon the shrine outside and placed upon the wooden slab or shelf altars within the bon po’s shrine room. The use of fresh f lowers often occurs in Srid-pa’i lha worship, where they substitute for the khri or ‘thrones’ upon which the Srid-pa’i lha can alight while present in the world. Like the sacred trees used for the same purpose, flowers are regarded as extremely pure and the most suitable resting place for the sky gods in an earthly domain so often polluted by human activity. After preparing the flowers, the bon po arranged two altars within his shrine room. In a niche on the back wall of the room, he placed a white cloth and arranged a series of items upon a small table in front of it, including a bowl of rice, incense sticks, seeds of tsampaka (Oroxylum indicum), a pile of tangerines, a bowl of flour with butter (chemar), and several butter lamps. The whole shrine was framed by bunches of fresh f lowers, and a bottle with more f lowers stood in each corner. On the floor in the corner of the room below this shrine, the bon po set up two small, low tables topped with simple wooden slabs, one decked with a fine woven cloth and the other covered in fresh banana leaves. These both served as his working altar for rituals inside the house, while one of them is intended to be portable and carried outside for use at the lha brang (pl. 131). Small piles of tangerines, bunches of fresh flowers, incense sticks, a metal ladle (chok) for holding ritual fluids, and a wand made from a length of tightly rolled, fresh banana leaf are placed upon these tables. The bon po’s final preparations prior to commencing the rites are thorough bathing in fresh water, donning clean

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clothes, and purifying himself and his clothing carefully with incense smoke so that he can encounter the deities in the most ritually appropriate state. His costume is entirely white in colour, in imitation of the Srid-pa’i lha. The robe is called lha’i gos or ‘clothing of the lha’, his large white shawl has the local name yamba, and his white turban made from a thick roll of white cotton treads with a fine line of red treads running around its centre is called shelha thekar, which is a local pronunciation of the name gShen-lha Thod-dkar. In the local context, this latter term is a special ritual identity, as we will see below. A separate set of preparations is undertaken by the lay community of worshippers, of whom there were about fifty persons present on the evening of the fifteenth day. Each participating household must assemble a set quantity of various offerings and contributions for the Aheylha festival to be considered as a valid sponsor. These items consist entirely of foodstuffs and alcohol that derive from the domestic subsistence production of the household. As a rule, each sponsor household should contribute three flask measures (chang kalang, each approximately equal to a medium-sized plastic bottle) of first brewed distilled liquor (chang phud). Two of these are deposited in the bon po’s house to be used as offerings inside, while the third is used later for offerings at the outdoor lha brang. Each household must also supply two dre measures (about three kilogrammes) of uncooked rice that is pooled and cooked for the communal feast on the evening of the fifteenth day. Additionally, any household wishing to have g.yang bestowed upon their cattle by the Srid-pa’i lha must contribute three sang measures of the first fresh butter out of the churn (mar phud), one bottle each of fresh milk and fresh yogurt, and three balls of fresh white cheese (spoken frum). During the afternoon of the fifteenth day, sponsor households brought all their offerings and contributions to the arpo. Upon receipt of any alcohol, the arpo first asked each donor to check their own distilled liquor for good quality and purity (chang dak ta). In addition to all the food and drink mentioned above, anyone who has pumpkins available should also bring them to contribute to the communal feast on the evening of the fifteenth day since this meal is entirely vegetarian due to ritual

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é Plate 131. Carrying the bon po’s portable altar for Aheylha, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

restrictions. A pumpkin curry is the customary main dish served, although the bon po and outside guests are also fed fried cheese (frum ngote). I think the presence of the pumpkin as the main feast item is a relic of rites still performed in the Kheng origin place of the Changmadung migrants, and I will discuss this below. On all festival days, the entire worship community is forbidden to eat any meat from animals, fish and birds whatsoever, no eggs, nor any onions or garlic. The bon po himself must strictly observe these dietary taboos for the entire month at a minimum. In addition, any raucous behaviour such as arguing, fighting, singing or whistling is forbidden throughout the festival. All these inappropriate foods and behaviours are considered offensive to the Srid-pa’i lha. Finally, all participants must bathe themselves and don clean clothing before the rites begin.

10.5 Festival Day One The first major rite of Aheylha involves inviting down the lha from the sky world, namely ’O-de Gung-rgyal, his son

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

Gurzhe and the other deities of the thirteen levels of the sky. Like many such Lha zhu rites, these too are nocturnal. Normally the bon po performs this invitation initially during the evening of the eighth day of the ninth month at a small altar in his home with several laymen present as assistants. However, due to the bon po’s delayed arrival at the village during 2011, the invitation rites were repeated on the fifteenth day, beginning around eight o’clock in the evening, after all the interested public had gathered and squeezed themselves into the small, decorated shrine room at the bon po’s house. The bon po was seated upon a mat at his modest corner altar opposite the door to the room, while the public sat lining the walls diagonally opposite him. In front of them were the arpo and a group of six men who were the lha’i bu or ‘sons of the lha’ who chant and perform bro steps together with the bon po. Their role is voluntary, without special costume or accoutrements beyond clean and new clothes and was only filled by adult males.

The Verbal Ritual Journey The performance of the verbal ritual journey at Changmadung is an interesting variant on the rite as it is found at other sites. Locally it is referred to as ‘causing the lha to descend’ (lha phab) and ‘requesting the lha’ (lha zhu). The actual itinerary is ‘enacted’ by the bon po with what he called ‘imagining’ or ‘visualising’ (gom, cf. CT bsgom)11 with the actual itinerary as an internalised recitation yet interspersed with publicly chanted vocalised sections. It is only during this rite that the ritual specialist, who is normally referred to by himself and others as the bon po, takes on another named identity, that of bon po gShen-lha Thoddkar or ‘gShen-lha White Turban’. This figure is viewed as an archetypal auxiliary, and the identity itself is ancient.12 Also, he visualises the ritual journey as being undertaken together with the group of lha’i bu present in the room in front of him. At first, seated still and silent in the corner of the room at his small altar, bon po Changchub visualised himself as bon po gShen-lha Thod-dkar together with the group of lha’i bu. His vision is of a ritual journey through the local landscape

and eventually up to the sky world that he simultaneously recites in his mind. It is noteworthy that his journey does not begin in the village where he sits and chants. Such journeys must always follow a main river course upstream, almost invariably northwards. However, Changmadung is a resettled community which left its ancestral topography far behind. An adaptation has been introduced to compensate for this change while referring to the ideal pattern. Thus, the actual itinerary begins on the banks of the large Drangmé Chu river far below the village. From there, it proceeds uphill in a west to north-west direction via the village to the highlands above (fig. 14), then directly upwards through the atmosphere and finally ascends the thirteen levels of the sky world until the bon po and his companions arrive on top at the palace of the principal Srid-pa’i lha. At certain points, the bon po commenced to chant aloud, when the local deities of birth and village (skyes lha yul lha) are briefly acknowledged by name, when reciting a text called Kha bon that empowers his activity, and when making his invitation request directly to the Srid-pa’i lha. For the publicly chanted sections, he was joined by the lha’i bu who added the loud Ahey refrain after each half line of verse sung by the bon po. The following detailed description was reported by the bon po in a subsequent interview as being exactly what he visualised and did for the itinerary of the ritual journey itself, interspersed with publicly chanted passages that are inserted below: The bon po gShen-lha Thod-dkar and the lha’i bu themselves initially appeal to the lha. From the sGom-phug sKor-ra of O-rgyan Gu-ru, [further uphill] an initial rest is taken at so-called ’Dug-skugling. Again, ascending from there, one arrives at Thithi and takes a second rest there. Again, ascending from there, one takes the third rest at sBang-ma resting place (ngal sa). Hither from there, one arrives at Kha-brag Phug. From there, passing through bShagspa, Num-sha-ri, sKhad-mong, Sa-dkar-po sGang and Ma-shing one arrives at the bon po’s own village of lCang-ma-dung. Then, within our own territories, by means of the Bsangs rabs and Kha bon, by means of an oblation, our natal and village deities (skyes lha yul lha) are honoured.13

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Following the bon po’s initial itinerary, a continuous series of chants began without any pauses between them. The Kha bon was quietly chanted, followed by the names of village deities. Then the bon po opened the rabs manuscript on his lap and followed the text to chant both the Khrus rabs or Narrative of Ablution and Bsangs rabs or Narrative of Purification [with Fumigation], which are the first two rabs written in all copies of the ritual text. This initial purification stage represents the clearing of the path down from the sky world along which the Srid-pa’i lha deities descend to the altar in the village. The Narrative of Ablution is as follows (fig. 13, no. 1): Ahey! Now, there is the Narrative of Ablution for the lha. Waters of the eastern Ganga Chu; Ganga waters are the first. Waters of the southern Lu-tig Chu; Lu-tig waters are the second. Waters of the western rDza-ra Chu;

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é Figure 14. Ascending itinerary of the Changmadung bon po’s ritual journey. Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus.

rDza-ra waters are the third. Waters of the northern Pag-shu Chu; Pag-shu waters are the fourth. [Waters of] the great Ma Chu are the fifth. [Waters of] the Za Chu [and] Yur Chu are the sixth. [Waters of] the Aum Chu Lang-ling are the seventh. [Waters of] the Pho Chu [and] Mo Chu are the eighth. [Water of] the sKyi Chu [and] gTsang Chu are the ninth. Gather together these nine kinds of waters, And when filling, fill them into a white crystal [vase]. By sending their drops into the sky, The lha who is to the right, the pho lha, is washed, The lha who is to the left, the mo lha, is washed,

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And every lha who is up above is washed. By sending their drops into the intermediate space, Every btsan of the intermediate space is washed. By sending their drops onto the earth, Every klu of the earth is washed.14 The river names in this Khrus rabs are an ideal presentation of major rivers based upon ritual schemes found in ca. eleventh century texts from nearby dGa’-thang15 combined with a few names of real, well-known rivers from Bhutan and Tibet. This contrasts with other Khrus rabs from Kheng that are nearly identical in overall form, but only feature local or sub-regional river names instead.16 It appears this name shift was introduced by later Changmadung settlers when they re-established the ritual texts, in order to compensate for loss of original hydrographic knowledge about the natal place of their migrant ancestors from Kheng. Following the Narrative of Ablution, the bon po chanted the Narrative of Purification (fig. 13, no. 2): Now, there is the Narrative of Purification for the lha. Sandalwood is the first of them. Bodhi [Ficus] wood is the second of them. Sal wood is the third of them. Eaglewood (A gar) wood is the fourth of them. Ma-nu-ru-ta wood is the fifth of them. Artemisia wood is the sixth of them. Paper Tree (shug gu) wood is the seventh of them. The two incense rhododendrons’ wood are the eighth of them. The deity tree, juniper, is the ninth of them. Gather together these nine kinds of wood, And as for their burning, burn them within an incense pan. By sending their smoke into the sky, The lha who is to the right, the pho lha, is purified, And the lha who is to the left, the mo lha, is purified. By sending their flames into the intermediate space, Every btsan of the intermediate space is purified. By sending their ashes onto the earth, Every klu of the earth is purified. Do not unleash hatred upon we humans! Help and protect we humans!17

Like the Khrus rabs, the Changmadung Bsangs rabs also represents a deviation, in terms of the lists of nine species of woody plants we usually find cited for purification rites in Srid-pa’i lha worship at sites further north. Juniper, Artemisia, the two incense rhododendrons, Sal (Shorea robusta, CT spos dkar) and sandalwood all commonly occur in northern Bsangs rabs lists. However, Bodhi (Ficus spp.), Eaglewood (Aquilaria spp. or Cinnamomum spp.), Paper Tree (probably a Daphne spp.) and the unclear identity Ma-nu-ru-ta 18 are all innovations that tend to reflect more the lowland or middle hills Himalayan flora such as is that occurring in Kheng where the Aheylha festival originated. At the beginning of the Khrus rabs, the bon po flicked some lustration water with his wand of rolled banana leaf, and throughout the rest of the chanting his ritual assistant periodically added fresh incense powder into a small brazier next to the altar. Following both these rabs, the ritual site of Changmadung was considered completely pure for the descent and arrival of the sky lha. These rites are equivalent to what is explicitly referred to as sel or lam sel at other sites, and specifically intended to clear a path for the lha’s descent and arrival. One should appreciate that these were not ‘solemn’ events being described here. Initially, the room was quiet during the first phases of the bon po’s visualisation and internal and external chanting. However, after ten minutes, while the melodious sounds of these chants filled the small room, more villagers continued to squeeze inside and their constant chatter and laughter reached a volume equal to that of the chants, and clear audio recording became impossible after a point. These outbreaks of public cacophony during a ritual performance in no way reflect how the worshippers regard their ritual specialists. Changmadung villagers are unanimous in considering bon po Changchub to be an outstanding exponent. This is in large part due to his clear and strong chanting, and especially the melodious quality of his singing voice, his accurate memorisation and his endurance. As noted already in chapter 7 (cf. fig. 6), the specific style of the bon po’s sung chant is the same as we find at other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship far distant from Changmadung. Each line of a verse is divided into two halves, the first half

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being chanted by the bon po with some vocal flourishes, and then being followed by the Ahey refrain lead by the lha’i bu with the public actively joining in, while the second line half is then chanted in the same manner. The upper itinerary of the visualised journey was then continued: By degrees, one arrives at a place called sPang-thang Chung-ku (‘small meadow’) in the upper part of the valley, which has a single person. Passing further through this meadow, one arrives at so-called Ri-bo (‘mountain’) ’Ang-’ung. From there, passing through sMyug-ma (‘bamboo’) Khra’u-khre’u, upon reaching Wang-shing (‘fir tree’) Gar-gir, the bon po gShen-lha Thod-dkar and the lha’i bu fly into the sky, and thus from there, the region between earth and sky, one proceeds upwards through sMug-pa (‘mists’) Srabsib. Above that, one proceeds upwards through the region in which Char-pa (‘rain’) Zam-zim is going on. One arrives in a region where the first level of the sky exists. Again, upwards from its surface, one passes through the [other] twelve sky levels and proceeds. Now one arrives in the land of the Srid pa’i lha. When one arrives on the surface of that land, there are white flags, white mani walls and white shrines there.19 The series of eco-referenced nouns here ending with double-syllable adjective elements (’ang ’ung, khra’u khre’u, etc.) are typical of the manner the lower levels of the intermediate space between the terrestrial highlands and the sky world proper are often glossed in local Srid-pa’i lha chants (cf. appx. B). While treated as whole proper names by informants, when etymologised by the same people or their fellows it is apparent they mostly express qualities of motion manifest in visible or audible form in natural objects within the cognised environment. For example, Wangshing Gar-gir refers to ‘fir trees’ (wang shing) growing nearer the tree line of the higher mountains ‘swaying’ (gar gir) in the wind, while gar gir here and other double-syllable adjective elements themselves often betray origins in East Bodish languages.20

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When the bon po visualised that he and the lha’i bu had reached the top of the thirteenth level of the sky world, they saw in front of them the glorious palace of the Sridpa lha made of precious materials, such as paving stones of turquoise and walls with ornamented bricks of gold. They entered the palace, inside of which the bon po pronounced the series of titles and names of each of the thirteen Srid-pa lha deities: Shar (east) Yar-lha Sham-po, lHo (south) sKu-bla Gangs-ri, Nub (west) Hau-gangs-bzang, Byang (north) sNyan-chen Thang-lha, sTeng (zenith) gNam-kha’i sNying-po, ’Og (nadir) Pa-ba Gor-mo, Yab cig (patriarch) ston pa gShen-rab, Pha (father) rTag-cha Ka-blon,21 Ma (mother) bZa’ ’Dre-ldan-ma, Sras mo (daughter) Tshig-bzang bTsun-mo, Sras (son) lHa ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Bon po (auxiliary) gShen-lha Thod-dkar, Sras (son) Gu-ru-bzhe lha. Then the bon po addressed an appeal and invitation to them as follows: Now, in our human world there is no lha. Grant us your coming as the diligent lha! In our human world, there is no g.yang. Come to bestow g.yang! Our food lacks nourishment. Come to give us nourishing food! Our clothing lacks warmth. Come to give us warmth! Our bodies are lacklustre. Come to give us lustre! Our arrows lack [rear] notches. Come to give them notches! Our [bamboo] bows lack nodes [for strength]. Come to give them nodes! Our knives are not sharp. Come to give them sharpness! 22 The list of thirteen deity titles and names above only exists as orally transmitted material at Changmadung, although

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one can frequently find variations on this list recorded in manuscripts in this same form at other cult sites in the Kheng region from where ancestral migrations to Changmadung occurred. 23 Note that the second group of titles define the deities as a family together with their ritual specialists, in the style of a royal court or household of a ruling elite. However, the wording of the bon po’s appeal here, and every other part of the remaining ritual narrative as both partly visualised and partly chanted, is all very closely derived from, and in parts identical with, the wording of the long, written sGam-chen Pha-wang narrative, which was not literally performed in its entirety during the 2011 Aheylha. This demonstrates that the bon po’s own visualisation of the whole ritual journey process, as well as his chanted expressions of parts of it for the public, completely emulates the origin story given in the sGam-chen Pha-wang narrative. It also reveals that he, identified as the bon po gShen-lha Thod-dkar, emulates all the ‘go-between’ roles represented in the written narrative by the three parallel characters, namely the messenger bat sGam-chen Pha-wang, the talking parrot and the ston pa gShen-rab himself. This provides a very clear example of how the rabs itself is the rite, rather than merely preceding other ritual actions in terms of performance; both the narration (whether mental or verbal) and the ritual action are one and the same or simultaneous. Another point of significance in the Changmadung verbal ritual journey is that, during the process, the bon po not only identifies himself with an auxiliary deity – and thus talks of himself, and is talked of by others, as gShen-lha Thod-dkar – he takes his lha’i bu co-ritualists along with him on the journey to meet the lha in the sky word. The taking of suitable companions on sky-bound ‘flights’ exists in the practice of other east Himalayan shamans, for instance, during the meüsòq-wà or ‘return to the sky’ rites for vitality/fertility or renewal of life powers performed among the Drung or Rawang peoples of far west Yunnan, along the border of northern Burma. This entails the nàm-sà shaman taking his ritual assistants – who hold offerings – along with him on a chanted ritual journey to the top of the nine levels of the sky or ‘heavens’, to meet the sky ancestor being, ‘the breeder of human souls’ Gvmeu.24 It is explicitly the vital principles (pvlà) of the nàm-sà and his assistants that are said to journey to the

sky, while the ritual specialists are situated together next to the shelf altar dedicated to the shaman’s auxiliaries within the main room of the house. All this strongly recalls the context of the verbal ritual journey at Changmadung. In addition to the bon po’s appeal above, he asked the lha to bring down precious items of their own to the site of ritual. This included a turquoise throne and a golden throne, a pair of male and female gendered conches, a turquoise stone called gru dkar gru dmar, silk cloth and Tibetan cloth, a bronze pot and a Tibetan pot. Thus prepared, the bon po visualised all the deities flying down to earth with him via the thirteen levels of the sky, and initially circling the mountains of the region as they descended together with rays of sunlight. When the deities initially arrived within the stratified terrestrial world space, they did so at one of the crucial ecological boundaries which is always mentioned in the rabs, that between the alpine meadow and the forest. Above eastern Bhutanese hill villages like Changmadung, this high boundary marks the actual transition between ‘wild and tame’ environments in relation to human activity, and this is precisely why it is so important and fitting in the ritual sequence. Villagers use the forest itself to graze their cattle, burn the undergrowth to stimulate grass for fodder, cut timber and harvest a variety of wild products. Hence, it is not ‘wild’ but represents a fully utilised sphere for domestic production. It is only the alpine zone above the forest that people seldom venture into. The boundary above the forest is where the bon po visualised his and the Srid-pa’i lha’s ‘touch down’ after flying down from the sky, and the first encounter with human beings. In terms of the symbolism and materials of the ritual performance, this ecological boundary is mapped onto the flower-covered altar within the bon po’s shrine room, as well as onto the lha brang shrine outside, the sides and back of which are ringed by leafy green saplings. The shrines and altars must all represent this boundary through the installation not only of tree parts, but also of flowers, which are the wild product of the meadow’s light and openness at the edge of the shaded forest. Thus, while the chant of the bon po at this point concerned an encounter that was taking place between forest and alpine meadow, the bon po himself treated it as happening directly in front of him upon the altar, as did the lha’i bu surrounding him.

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The details of the invitation chant just discussed again clarify the significance of mountains within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Students of Tibetan Plateau and high Himalayan systems of myth and ritual are by now so strongly conditioned to accept that the mountain is a topographical and cosmological reference par excellence in all contexts that it goes without question. This can be misleading, encouraging a certain ‘analytical blindness’, and one reason Srid-pa’i lha worship was regularly but wrongly identified with the cult of territorial deities and mountains in the past. The differences are sometimes subtle, but they are always there and need to be carefully acknowledged. For example, in the above list of thirteen Srid-pa’i lha titles and names found at Changmadung and at sites around Kheng, the first group are names of known sacred mountain deities occurring in various Tibetan Plateau traditions of myth and ritual. However, their mountain status here is irrelevant, and is never signalled. Whenever these names occur in cult contexts, they are instead explicitly marked as deities of the cardinal directions, and this is a status they also share with other deities who are not mountains. A second example above is that the Srid-pa’i lha often complete their descent to earth at a specific arrival point associated with a mountain or hill. Yet, this does not deify the peak or summit in question in any way, nor reify it somehow as a special territory or ‘sacred place’. This is because the peak itself is not the point at which the deities formally arrive in the social sense of having an ‘encounter’, and this latter is always the most important in rites for bringing down the lha. At Changmadung, the bon po chants that the great lha come, having circled the snowy heights (lha chen gangs mtho bskor nas byon), yet they actually ‘arrive’ – in the full sense of the word – at one of the mtshams or ‘boundaries’ in the vertically stratified ecology of the highland slopes. To a certain extent, mountains and hills have been mythically predetermined as lha arrival points on earth because this detail is included in certain versions of the narrative of the progenitor emperor. However, as much as anything, such narrative references represent a logical choice for the mythmaker since peaks are closest to the sky. This does not slavishly necessitate or even imply a mountain cult along with the myth. This latter, pragmatic interpretation of the ritual significance allotted to mountains is the one consistently chosen by the mythmakers and

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worshippers of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. It is a distinguishing feature that one cannot ignore. The final chant of the arrival of the deities within the ritual space is drawn directly from the written rabs in the bon po’s text, yet his and the lha’i bu's actions were explained by his oral chant, “The lha have arrived; they have arrived at the boundary of the meadow and the forest. The young men step bro, di ri ri. Dismounting their horses here, they [the lha] have alighted on the right side.”25 As soon as the deities are believed present, the bon po removes his turban and offers it towards the altar on his left side as a respectful gesture of greeting to the Srid-pa’i lha. The subtlety of this gesture should not be overlooked: the bon po’s left side represents the deities’ right side as they are imagined to be facing the bon po, and the side from which they have just dismounted their horses. He then gets up and makes three prostrations towards the altar. At this point, the lha’i bu group stand up facing the altar and move with special steps called bro to celebrate the arrival of the lha, and as an act of hospitality to give them pleasure. All the while, they chant the Ahey refrain to complete the end of every half line of the bon po’s on-going chant. A major part of the choreography of this bro movement involves alternate right and left turning steps completed with a downward outstretched arm gesture using the side of the body facing towards the altar. This arm gesture is completed by gently shaking the arm that faces the altar, from shoulders to fingers, in a sort of fluttering motion. This motion is an eye-catching feature of the performance, one commented upon by the village public, who consider it specific to a ‘Bon’ style of bro. It immediately reminded me of identical arm motions used in Sridpa’i lha worship communities elsewhere in eastern Bhutan and at Thempang and Sangti in the Mon-yul Corridor. Those performances are also called bro and used only when the Srid-pa’i lha are believed to be present. Thempang and Sangti performers wear small bells on their fingers, and the shaking or fluttering motion of their arms is specifically performed for jingling these finger bells (see ch. 11).26 It is likely that such arm motions still maintained at Changmadung and other sites across eastern Bhutan are the embodied trace of finger bell use in Srid-pa’i lha worship, one that has outlived the presence of the bells themselves. It is of related

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interest here that, in the section on ’O-de Gung-rgyal in chapter 3, I described how such characteristic bodily movements are colloquially correlated to the specific body part or aspect of the lha that individual worship communities are held to propitiate. This type of explanation, originating in Kheng and adjacent areas from where the Changmadung ancestral population migrated, is no longer used at Changmadung to explain their bro style. However, the community agrees that since it migrated, and thus re-established its worship tradition, it got to propitiate the only aspect of the lha that remained unclaimed; its shadow. While all the above took place, the final chant concerned the first encounter of the Srid-pa’i lha with human beings. The ston pa gShen-rab, who is a go-between mediating the encounters of humans with lha, but who ultimately represents human interests and identities, is both the mythical interlocutor here and the figure who is the model for the local bon po to emulate. The bon po now chanted a rabs dialogue between gShen-rab and ’O-de Gung-rgyal, who represents all of the thirteen Srid-pa’i lha, yet this dialogue is also between bon po Changchub himself and the deities whom are all present now and believed to be in the room about to settle upon the altar. The rabs is based upon a stereotypical colloquial dialogue that might occur between strangers who meet on remote Himalayan mountain paths. It includes each interrogating the origin, destination, lineage identity and purpose of the other (fig. 13, no. 11): [10a...] The lha, a white man on a white horse, came down

from above, and The ston pa gShen-rab came up from below. They both Met at the boundary between the forest and meadows. Father ston pa gShen-rab spoke, ‘You, white man on a white horse from above, From where have you come today? Where will you go tonight? Tell me what the name of your father is. [10b] Tell me what the name of your mother is. Tell me what your own name is. Are you a hostile enemy? Or are you a dear friend?

Are you a bdud spirit who steals people? Or are you the noose of a btsan spirit [which captures people]? Are you a visitor from far away? I hardly even recognise your face. I almost didn’t salute you.’ With these words he invited a response, and The white man on the white horse spoke: ‘I arrived today from the land of the lha. Tonight I go to the land of human beings. My father is rTag-cha Ka-long. My mother is Tshig-bzang bTsun-mo. I myself am called ’O-de Gung-rgyal. The highlands are encircled by white snow peaks. They are a sign of the appearance of many powerful lha. The lowlands have great lakes, me re re. They are a sign of the appearance of many powerful klu. In between them are the high, red rocky hills. They are a sign of the appearance of many powerful btsan. As for this hidden land (sbas yul) of Padma’i sDongpo27 itself, It is the holy abode where the lama O-rgyan Gu-ru dwells. [11a] [Be all that as it may,] it is the lha who divide the rivers in two. It is the lha who enable the coalescence of skill and intelligence. It is the lha who spontaneously gives rise to what one needs and desires. It is the lha who one requests as an influential friend and helper.28 It is the lha who is identical with the deity of wealth. It is the lha who dispatches his activity into the ten directions. As for religious practice, it is the lha who extends bodily life. It is the lha who is presented with oblation waters from the white lake and the black lake.29 I have come as the lha for people without a lha. I have come as the g.yang for livestock without g.yang. I have come as the warmth of clothing lacking in warmth.

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é Plate 132. The ‘sponsor mothers’ respectfully welcoming the deities before the lha brang, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

I have come as the nutrients in food that lacks nourishment. I have come as the lustre for the turquoise30 that is lacklustre.’ He said those words, and The ston pa gShen-rab replied, ‘Alight from your horse, get down on the right side. This white turban, I offer to you on the left side. I prostrate to the lha three times. A square of white silk is laid down as your seat. Red flowers that are pure are spread out. A silk pennant is hung out, and the conch trumpet and flat bell are being played.

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[11b]

Today, the people and the lha come together! Come lha. Come to this place!’31

During the above invitation process, women entered the room and took seats. They should each represent the socially senior woman from their respective sponsor households. The role is always female based upon the premodern precedent of female household heads as the basis for ‘sponsor mothers’ also found at Tsango and explained in the previous chapter. However, it was noted that not every household was represented in this way during 2011. When the deities are believed to be present, the bon po prostrates to the altar to welcome them with respect, and all the women do the same. While doing so, the women are supposed to mentally thank the deities for continuing to descend to earth and give them life powers and protection during the year elapsed since the last Aheylha festival. While they remain in the room, they

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do not join in the Ahey chanting, which is an exclusively male activity. However, they are not completely silent. As a group, the women call out, “We are here!” and “Have you arrived now?” These customary utterances were explained by the informants that everyone imagines the deities have just asked the women in Khengkha, the worship community’s now defunct ancestral language, “Sponsor mothers, are you well?” and “Sponsor mothers, are you all here in a continuous line? Last year on this day we blessed you, so we will meet again this year.” The role of these senior women sponsors for the festival is materially essential, for they provide all the foodstuffs and alcohol required for the rites directly from their households. Many of these women and/or their adult daughters also have a longer ritual relationship with the Srid-pa’i lha since they believe some or all their children to have been conceived with the help of the lha, as became obvious during Day Two of the festival.

Divination and g.Yang Endowment for Livestock At this point, it was already late at night, and events moved outside to the lha brang shrine in the field behind the houses. The bon po faced the altar inside his shrine room and invited the deities to now leave the house and settle at the lha brang. All participants then filed out of the house in procession lead by a man carrying the bon po’s small altar table bedecked with flowers and incense, followed by the arpo with a smoking incense brazier, then the bon po who continued to chant, and finally the lha’i bu group who continued stepping bro and chanting Ahey while on the move. All participants encircled the flat area directly in front of the shrine, and where the earth had been completely covered by layers of dry straw, with carpets and matting placed in the centre for the bon po. The procession of ritualists including the bon po performed bro steps clockwise around the seating positions multiple times while chanting Ahey, then the bon po offered his turban to the Srid-pa’i lha who were now believed to be settled upon the flowers around the shrine arch. All present prostrated three times to the shrine (pl. 132), and the bon po took up his seat in the centre with his small altar table facing the shrine, was flanked to his right and left sides by the arpo and lha’i bu, and all were encircled

by the seated villagers. The altar level of the shrine itself was covered by the thirteen dampai torma for the thirteen Sridpa’i lha (pl. 127), while the two additional dampai torma sat upon a makeshift altar covered with banana leaves on the ground directly underneath the main altar. These represent the food offerings for the local nor lha or ‘deities of livestock’, who are named Shazila and Bonzila by the villagers. These nor lha are not considered to be Srid-pa’i lha and are nowhere mentioned in any of the manuscripts. Their function is essentially a protective one. It was a cold, pitch-black night, but a single, naked electric light bulb attached to the shrine illuminated the area. A new series of rites now commenced related to the fertility and productivity of livestock owned by sponsor households. The joking and laughter already in the air indicated that all the villagers keenly anticipated this phase of the event. The rites first entailed each livestock owner making a replica of a cattle beast to represent his or her animal or herd. The owners plaited long lengths of rice straw into simple replica ‘ropes’, and then tied these around talismanic stones the size of a small fist that represented the animals (pl. 133). The same practice is also found in Kharpu festivals of Kheng Chikor (pl. 134) from where the Aheylha originates, and elsewhere along the western banks of the Kuri Chu river valley.32 These replica cattle were then all placed directly underneath the lha brang shrine alongside the two dampai torma dedicated to the nor lha, and tethered to the lower, right-hand post of the altar itself, exactly as they are, too, in Nyimshong. Each owner had to give their own stone bovine a simple name as one would a real animal, such as ‘black one’, ‘patches’, and so on. These names represent an owner’s aspiration for fertility and abundance in that their own cows give birth to new calves during the coming year, that animals will remain healthy, as well as producing ample milk. As the replica animals rest under the lha brang, they become endowed with g.yang through the presence of the Srid-pa’i lha themselves. This embodied g.yang is transferred in two ways. When the rites are completed later that night, the stone ‘cattle’ are taken and kept in the house by each owner, and thus add to the balance of this life force for herds within

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their domestic sphere. Additionally, each livestock owning sponsor household who contributed milk, yogurt, butter and fresh cheese at the start of the festival receives a share of the fifteen dampai torma on the lha brang, which are also endowed with g.yang. This share is taken home and fed directly to all cattle to transfer the essential g.yang productive force by direct ingestion. Following the fashioning of the replica cattle and their placement at the shrine, a ‘golden libation’ (gser skyems) offering of distilled alcohol is made to the lha at the shrine, after which the divination for livestock commences. This divination is one of the public highpoints of the festival, and everyone gathers tightly around the bon po to witness the results. The divination device is made from banana leaves and bamboo pins. Two rectangular sections of banana leaf, each about the size of a long postal envelope, are cut, layered on top of each other and pinned together at intervals with three thin bamboo needles in such a way as to form a curved shape with a ‘cup’ on one side and an ‘arch’ on the other. The bon po has a supply of about half a dozen of these leaf devices upon his altar. He takes one and passes it through the smoke from the incense brazier next to his altar, forms it into a loop by touching both ends together, holds it with both hands and brings it up to touch the front of his turban, then tosses it several metres into the air in front of him towards the lha brang shrine. With each touch of the leaf to his turban, the bon po’s eyes closed and his lips mouthed a few syllables. These divinations can only be performed when the Srid-pa’i lha are believed present in front of the bon po during an Aheylha festival, and he addresses his inquiry to them thus. If the curved leaf lands back on the ground with the arch side facing upwards, this is a positive result, while the cupped side landing upwards or landing upon its edge represents a negative result. A secondary sign is read in the way in which the leaf falls through the air. If it floats slowly down this is positive, whereas falling directly back downward is negative.33 Owners of cattle then paid the bon po in small denominations of local currency for a divination concerning the fortunes of their animals during the coming year. Each divination consists of four leaf tosses per animal, the total result of

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é Plate 133. Talismanic stones representing cattle tethered to the altar with ropes of plaited straw, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2014. í Plate 134. Talismanic stones representing cattle tethered to the altar with strings, Nyimshong, Jamkhar Chu valley, 2014.

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

The communal feast was purely vegetarian, reflecting the dietary taboo imposed for the whole worship period of the festival. It consisted of pumpkin curry, rice and butter, all subsistence products of the village economy during autumn. Only the bon po received fresh white cheese that was fried as an extra. The participants dinned using banana leaf plates, while the bon po’s meal was served in a bowl. However, leaves ran out and one section of the diners used bowls and normal dinner plates instead. Distilled alcohol was served, but not just as refreshment. The bottles had been standing by the shrine in the bon po’s house, and some were sitting at the lha brang and used to offer to the deities on various occasions. Thus, the alcohol qualified as tshogs containing the life powers of the deities, which were transferred directly into participants’ bodies upon consumption.

é Plate 135. Ritual support for Srid-pa’i lha based upon a pumpkin, Nyimshong, Jamkhar Chu valley, 2014.

which is taken to be the overall auspice. If an owner receives four consecutive negative readings for an animal, he is given two addition tosses to try and gain a positive result, with a maximum of six tosses allowed per animal. As each leaf is tossed up, all eyes follow its path through the air and the manner of its landing. With each positive result, a collective roar of Legso! or ‘It’s good!’ came from the crowd, and with each negative result, they loudly chanted Whay! When all the requested livestock divinations were completed, participants collected their talismanic stone cattle from the shrine and received their share of the dampai torma as tshogs to take home. Only then did the communal feasting commence. It was now three o’clock in the morning and about forty-five participants were in attendance.

The use of pumpkin or squash as the main component of the communal feast should be considered as a relic of Kharpu festival practice within the Kheng Chikor area from where the Changmadung migrants originated, and from where they transferred their festival. During the Kharpu festivals at Nyimshong and at neighbouring Srid-pa’i lha worship sites in Kheng Chikor,34 a pumpkin (Khengkha kakoro) bedecked with flowers forms the main ritual support onto which Srid-pa’i lha descend upon the domestic altar (pl. 135) when the lhabab (CT lha bab) rites are conducted. At Changmadung, while the flowers have remained in use with this express purpose, the pumpkin is not used. Thus, pumpkins are the functional vegetarian equivalent of other edible sacrificial substances, such as meat, used elsewhere in cult festivals. They have the same value and thus everyone must partake of them. After feasting, everyone went home to sleep. Only the bon po still had a ritual task remaining. As a final rite to end the first day of worship, he dispatched the Srid-pa’i lha with chants and a visualisation back up to the sky world since they never remain overnight upon the earth. The bon po guided the deities back up as far as the third level of the sky world, left them there in repose, returned himself back down to earth, and when finished went to sleep in his house.

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10.6 Festival Day Two

Rites for the lHa’s Children

When bon po Changchub awoke on the sixteenth day, he purified himself with a thorough bath and then once again invited the Srid-pa’i lha down from their overnight resting place on top of the third level of the sky and installed them upon the altar within his own shrine room. It is there that the bon po spent half the day constantly performing divinations using the same technique with banana leaf devices as used for the livestock divinations the previous night. The initial period of divination is called seefu’i mo and is related exclusively to children who are locally classified as being seefu. The local meaning of seefu can be glossed as ‘conceived by the lha’, and it is identical to the concept and practice of sifu documented at Tsango in the previous chapter.

Procreation is almost always referred to in Srid-pa’i lha festivals, although in a range of different ways. Aheylha lacks the explicit sexual references and symbols or banter or performances found in other festivals that strongly invoke human procreation. Instead, it is present in the seefu, who are children born after their mothers or parents made a special aspiration or personal appeal to ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Gurzhe or the Srid-pa’i lha in general, to be able to conceive a child when this had failed to naturally occur by way of human sexual relations. Once born, seefu children are always named using the word lha to symbolically link them to their divine fathers, the Srid-pa’i lha. Thus, in Changmadung, we find the male seefu names such as Lhadenla, Lhala, and Lhadarla and female names Lhamo, Lhaden or Lhadenmo, Lhakey, and so on. There are now more of these names among mature adults than young children and teenagers, and this reflects the fact that it has become more popular for parents to take their children to receive a Buddhist name from highly ranked incarnate lamas as a blessing. It is also an index of the steady eclipse of Srid-pa’i lha

í Plate 136. Anticipating the fall of a divination leaf (l.), and receiving a negative result (r.), Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

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worship in the rapidly modernising rural village communities of the region. It is believed that seefu children receive life-long protection from their Srid-pa’i lha fathers. The annual divination performed for seefu can only occur when the deities are present in the village during Aheylha. This is another expression of the link between child and divine parent, as well as between natal families and the deities. The divination tells the natal family the quality of the child’s fortune for the coming year. Readings are only positive or negative, as with the earlier livestock divinations. The seefu’i mo are only performed within the bon po’s shrine room, and they are public in that anyone can attend and see the result for themselves. Due to the high prevalence of boarding school attendance for rural village children today in Bhutan, and the fact that the traditional ritual calendar for Aheylha does not coincide with school vacation, very few young children or teenagers attended. Mothers or close family relatives of seefu children go to have a seefu’i mo done on their behalf. Adult seefu also attend and gain divinations for themselves. The room was full of adult men and women seeking a seefu’i mo, and the proceedings were loud and lively like the livestock divinations. Some parents or relatives who receive a series of negative divinations will continue asking for more readings until positive results finally appear. These are then relayed to absent parents or seefu children themselves directly by mobile phone. The other ritual aspect of the divinations is that for each child receiving a reading, the natal family must offer one bottle of strong and freshly distilled liquor (chang phud) to the Srid-pa’i lha. These are given to the bon po who presents them to the deities for the parents. The seefu’i mo finishes with bro and chanting by the lha’i bu in the shrine room. Before breaking for lunch, the bon po then performed more divinations for each village household (pl. 136), who also had to offer a bottle of liquor for the deities. There are also many requests for individual divinations, especially on topics such as children’s school examinations. For each individual divination, a very modest cash fee was given to the bon po.

Requesting Vitality Following a lunch break, the bon po and his assistants once again invited the deities from inside his house back out to the lha brang shrine in the fields. There, all the liquor offerings accumulated during the divinations had to be presented to the deities, but especially to ’O-de Gung-rgyal and the kings of the four quarters. The process was time consuming and lasted until dusk. It also involved repeated circular bro performances by the lha’i bu, who encircled the bon po seated in the centre upon a chair together with his portable altar. During the presentation of the liquor, the bon po chants a series of elaborate appeals related to the life powers tshe and g.yang. This includes requesting (zhu) powers, then bestowing or depositing (bcol) them directly with worshippers, and that they arise and become fixed (chags). Some excerpts are given here to capture the nature and language of these chants. First, the series begins with the Narrative for Bestowal of Tshe and g.Yang (Tshe dang g.yang gyi bcol rabs), the initial verses of which are (fig. 13, no. 17): In the town of the great land of sMra, The stronghold is like a volume of Buddhist scripture. The people are like sick doves. Bestow tshe! Bestow g.yang! Where should they be bestowed? Do not bestow tshe upon the hill with three peaks. Do not bestow tshe upon the confluence of the three rivers. Do not bestow tshe upon the walls of the red rock bluffs. Bestow tshe directly upon fathers. Bestow tshe directly upon mothers.35 The images expressing vulnerability and frailty of the human condition here are interesting, since Buddhism is cast as being of little value. Then, following presentation of a liquor offering, comes the Narrative for Requesting Tshe and g.Yang (Tshe g.yang zhu rabs) (fig. 13, no. 19): Ahey! Today, as for tshe and g.yang, we request every sort. We request the tshe and g.yang of the white snow lion.

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We request the tshe and g.yang that outshines the phenomenal world. Today, as for tshe and g.yang, we request every sort. We request tshe that is like the moon, oh so beautiful. We also request g.yang that is like the sun, so vivid. Today, as for tshe and g.yang, we request every sort. We request the tshe and g.yang that is the magnificence of the highlands. We request the tshe and g.yang that is the splendour of the lowlands. Having one life is the tshe of body. Having a second life is the tshe of speech. Having a third life is the tshe of mind. Having a fourth life is the tshe of capability. Having a fifth life is the tshe of action. We request the tshe and g.yang that is like a manydoored shrine in the village. Today, we request tshe and request g.yang as well. We request the tshe and g.yang of father rTag-cha Ka-long. We request the tshe and g.yang of mother Tshig-bzang bTsun-mo. We request the tshe and g.yang of lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. We request the tshe and g.yang of father sKyid-bu Lung-btsan. We request the tshe and g.yang of mother mTsho-sman rGyal-mo. We request the tshe and g.yang of the ston pa gShen-rab. We request the tshe and g.yang connected with our deeds and aspirations.36 Immediately following, the Narrative for Bestowing Tshe and g.Yang (Tshe g.yang bcol rabs) states (fig. 13, no. 20): Ahey! Today, bestow tshe! Bestow g.yang! To whom should they be bestowed? Bestow it upon faithful fathers. Bestow it upon faithful mothers. Let tshe descend, let g.yang descend, descend from the midst of the upper sky.

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The magnificent upper sky is the excellent site of descent. The magnificent lower sky is the excellent site of dwelling.37 Glorious lha of great wealth, descend here! Come to this place! Today, bestow tshe; bestow g.yang. Where should it be bestowed? If you are considering to bestow it eastwards, To the east, there are male and female dri za [beings], With their multitude of bad deeds and omens; Do not bestow tshe and g.yang there. If you are considering to bestow it southwards, To the south, there are male and female gshin rje [beings], With their many craving, thirsty ghosts; Do not bestow tshe and g.yang there. If you are considering to bestow it westwards, To the west, there are powerful male and female klu [beings], With a great deal of conceit and envy; Do not bestow tshe and g.yang there. If you are considering to bestow it northwards, To the north, there are powerful male and female gnod sbyin [beings], With much delusion and hatred; Do not bestow tshe and g.yang there. On the far side of space above, And in the very navel of the ocean below, There is profound boundlessness, ya la la; Do not bestow tshe and g.yang there. Bestow phya upon human men. Bestow g.yang upon human women. Bestow tshe upon their small children. Bestow it into the hands of faithful fathers. Bestow it into the hands of faithful mothers.38 At the close of the day’s events, the bon po once again guided the deities back up as far as the third level of the sky world to rest for the night, then he himself went home to sleep.

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

10.7 Festival Day Three The bon po began Day Three with ablutions, after which he once again invited the Srid-pa’i lha down from the third level of the sky and installed them upon his altar. Together with a group of lha’i bu, he prepared to visit several village sponsor households to offer a form of tshogs locally known as nawan bokpey. This consists of an assemblage of small vegetarian offerings arranged upon a square of fresh banana tree leaf (pl. 137) and presented to a range of deities inhabiting the domestic microcosm within the daily living space of the family house and its immediate peripheries. However, there is an interesting terminological misfit between the term nawan in this context and the type of rites it refers to elsewhere. Nawan was already encountered in the Tsango Lhamoche festival (ch. 9), and there it denoted game meat and the talismanic value of a wild animal body and its parts, or a mock animal of some form. These definitions and this form of nawan belong to a widespread dimension of the cult explored in greater detail in chapter 13. Nawan bokpey designating rites in the domestic microcosm at Changmadung has only a distant connection with these other meanings for the term nawan. It is certain the term has ‘migrated’ from designating rites involving game animals, meats and talismans to naming the vegetarian rite at Changmadung, and that this transformation occurred at least a century ago or more in Kheng Chikor. I will discuss this change in a historical context at the end of the chapter. To further complicate matters, at Changmadung the term nawan was popularly explained as referring to ‘deafness’. On first sight, this meaning appears derived from a ‘learned’, yet false etymology, based upon the homophonic Tibetan rna ’on (a spelling never occurring in any Srid-pa’i lha texts) meaning ‘deafness’ or more literally ‘deaf ears’. Thus, the Changmadung residents told me a nawan bokpey offering would benefit any persons with hearing problems within the sponsor house where it is performed. A peripheral connection between nawan and ears was also evident at Tsango. However, for various reasons, I think Tibetan rna ’on is probably a folk etymology based upon a term from another language group connected with the origins of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, a word which spoken nawan is derived

from. I will return to discuss the vexing meaning and origins of the word nawan in chapter 17.

Offerings in the Domestic Microcosm The nawan bokpey offerings observed during 2011 were not a fixed or compulsory aspect of Aheylha, although they remain so back in the ancestral Kheng festivals during which every house in a village is visited by the bon po for this rite. In Changmadung, the bon po is invited to visit those households who have chosen to sponsor a nawan bokpey on this last day of the festival. During the 2011 Aheylha, there were only three households who sponsored the rite. The tshogs offering itself consists of a selection of tiny portions of six ingredients, including cooked grains, vegetables and dairy foods all placed upon a small square of banana leaf (pl. 137). Before departing his home, the bon po first makes nawan bokpey offerings around the appropriate sites within his own house. He and the lha’i bu then visit each of the sponsor households in turn to offer their respective tshogs, which each family prepares at home. Additionally, mar chang or distilled liquor briefly fried in butter will be prepared when the bon po arrives at the house. When the bon po and his party departed for the sponsors’ homes, he invited the Srid-pa’i lha to travel together with them. To ritually effect this, several bunches of flowers were taken from his altar and carried throughout the journey as the vehicle for the deities, and then installed temporarily upon small freshly prepared altars in front of which the bon po sat within the shrine room of each sponsor’s home. This point is not trivial. Since the Srid-pa’i lha are invoked in the houses again, they are obviously the deities who bless the domestic microcosm. In fact, the array of minor deities within the house who receive the tshogs are none other than manifestations of the great lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal – a point that certainly makes sense in terms of Srid-pa’i lha cosmogony in which they are the ultimate progenitors from whom myriads of minor worldly deities are descended. When the bon po’s party arrived at each house, they briefly chanted at the threshold of the door before entry. They were

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î Plate 137. Preparing tshogs for nawan bokpey offerings, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

é Plate 138. Tshogs for nawan bokpey offered upon a hand mill (thek), Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

êPlate 139. Tshogs for nawan bokpey offered upon a notched attic ladder (litang), Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

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welcomed with a mar chang offering, during which the lha’i bu performed their usual bro steps. The exception was that they intentionally performed all their regular steps by stamping their feet very strongly upon the floorboards. This stamping step is found in use at many Srid-pa’i lha festivals, where on occasion the performers even say they try to crack or break the floorboards. These powerful stamping steps are an expression of the ritual action called ‘penetration of tshe’ (tshe phog) which recurs in Srid-pa’i lha worship in different forms, when life powers from the lha are literally beaten or stamped into the bodies of persons and their domestic environments.

instance of a rather ancient and widespread practice related to revitalisation of the dwelling house and its members.

Final Bro Performance

The nawan bokpey rites of Day Three were rounded off in each house when household members of all ages who were currently present received the same tshogs offering to consume as the deities of the house itself. When this was done, the bon po called out ‘Gam!’ or ‘Eat!’, which is a rather harsh colloquial expression implying something like ‘throw it down the mouth!’39 The bon po also provided a banana leaf divination for the household’s fortunes during the coming year while seated at the altar within their homes. In some cases, mobile phone calls were placed to migrant members of households who lived in other parts of Bhutan so that they could hear ‘live’ the bon po’s chant and divination as they took place. After the bon po party was hosted to food, they moved to the next house to repeat the entire process until finished.

During the late afternoon, ten lha’i bu undertook a short series of circular movement performances of the bro type during which the bon po chanted rabs while seated in the centre of them. The first of these was performed at the lha brang. This initial bro required a group of five male performers to dress as women. In one house, the former bon po Meme Sangpola supervised their preparations together with various sisters and wives who had lent their male relatives their clothing and helped them to arrange and wear it exactly as a woman would (pl. 140). Meanwhile, in bon po Changchub’s house the group of five lha’i bu who took the male roles prepared themselves. When ready, both groups emerged from their respective houses and paraded towards the ritual ground with an incense bearer out in front, followed by their bon po leaders chanting a rabs and the lha’i bu following behind singing the Ahey refrain. A small group of villagers had gathered at the place to witness these bro. As the two groups met at the ritual ground, the ‘female’ performers led by Meme Sangpola circled counterclockwise around the site, while the male group and bon po Changchub circled clockwise parallel with them to form two concentric circles moving in opposite directions. This is a choreographic sequence also used in other Srid-pa’i lha rites at different sites (see ch. 9). Bon po Changchub then took his seat and chanted a ritual text entitled Wishing for lHa Gurzhe’s Bestowal of Aspirations upon Human Mothers (Lha gu ru bzhes mi A ma rnams la smon lam gnang bar ’dod pa) from his manuscript (fig. 13, no. 25). This is a straightforward aspiration chant very similar to those used in many Srid-pa’i lha festivals, and not necessarily gender specific to women or mothers. With this, the male and female groups mixed and formed a single circle while stepping bro clockwise around him and chanting Ahey (pl. 141). The bro simply continued like this until the bon po’s chant was completed.

The modest nawan bokpey rite of invoking and offering to deities ranged around the domestic microcosm is actually a local

Although this performance is a form of Srid-pa’i lha bro, it was called Pholey Moley (Pho legs mo legs) by some

Following the chant and bro, the miniature platters of tshogs are taken from near the altar and placed directly upon items and surfaces throughout the entire house. These included the hearth (thab), the dying rack (tsantha) suspended above the hearth, the food storage niche in the kitchen, the hand mill (thek) (pl. 138), the upper (i.e., middle) level of the house (pang), the ground or foundation level (sa’i kha), the steps of the internal log ladder (litang) leading to the attic level (kopseng kha) (pl. 139), the attic level itself, the threshold board of the door, the main door (ma ko), and the mortar and pestle located just outside the house. They were offered to each deity resident in the respective area or implement of the household.

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î Plate 140. A lha’i bu troop dressed in women’s clothing with one of their female ‘style advisors’, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

î Plate 141. Male bro performers dressed as women encircling the bon po, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011.

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informants using the same name as a popular and often comical performance staged during Bhutanese Buddhist masked ritual dance festivals, and featuring male dancers dressed in women’s clothing. However, apart from this casual, local designation, there is no relationship whatsoever between these two types of performances, neither symbolic nor choreographic. 40 We know that this bro featuring men dressed as women alongside male performers has existed in the Kheng Chikor festivals from which Aheylha festivals descend.41 Variations of it are also found performed in a range of other Srid-pa’i lha festivals, where it is most often done by both male lha’i bu (also called bro pa and equivalent titles), and girls or young women called lha’i lcam (or bro mo and equivalent terms) that literally means ‘wife/consort of the lha’. However, careful distinctions must be maintained between female performers of bro, and those who have similar ritual duties but who are specifically designated as lcam or zi ‘wives’, for these latter roles are related to creating ritualised affinal bonds with the lha thus giving them the obligation-bearing status of wife receivers. As noted in chapter 8, the existence of both types of female roles in Srid-pa’i lha festivals has declined or ceased at many sites, for reasons that are not always easy to explain citing single causes. It thus remains an open question whether the female-clad lha’i bu at Changmadung are merely male substitutes for absent bro mo performers who would have once been real women during the past. The final two bro of the day, which had to be performed when it was already quite dark outside, concern two animals, the peacock (rma bya) and the stag (sha ba). Gallinaceous birds and deer are two of the most frequently recurring wild creatures associated with the myths and rites of the shaman anywhere such specialists occur in the Himalayas and Siberia. These bro are for mimicking the animals concerned. The first performance is based upon a short nine-line rabs entitled Narrative of Seeking the Peacock’s Nest (Rma bya’i tshang ’tshol rabs) (fig. 13, no. 26), which the bon po chanted while he stepped this bro together with all the lha’i bu. The rabs is very simple, and merely elaborates upon the title wording. In fact, it appears to be a degraded form of a once more sophisticated text. The formation in a circle around the bon po and most of the movement units were identical with bro, except that the

performers stooped forward with their upper torsos, with arms stretched out behind them alongside their bodies to form ‘wings’, mimicking the peacock. The final bro – which some informants believe relates to a female deer – mimics a stag. Performers placed their hands with outstretched fingers at the sides of their heads to represent the stag’s antlers, then bending over at the waist they raise their heads up and back to mimic the gestures of a rutting male animal, or the manner a stag passes through the undergrowth so as not to snag its antlers. However, the stag performance has no surviving rabs at Changmadung.

10.8 The Lost Narrative It appears that in both cases, these two final bro performances of animal mimicking in Aheylha represent fragmentary survivals of rites that were once more robust and detailed. We can in fact confirm this with comparative material from the Kheng Chikor homeland of the original Changmadung migrants and the site from which they reestablished the Aheylha. I found that both rabs narratives and bro steps for the peacock and the stag are employed during Srid-pa’i lha festivals in the villages along the west bank of the Jamkhar Chu river. The surviving Kheng versions of the Sha ba rabs or Narrative of the Stag certainly deserve our attention. For one thing, they show us exactly what has been – or is now almost – completely lost over time from a living tradition of Srid-pa’i lha worship that was spread via a migration event, and the vicissitudes that such processes entail. Secondly, the form and content of the surviving versions of the Sha ba rabs leave no doubt that it has roots in Old Tibetan narratives known from the Tibetan Plateau. For both of these reasons it is worth presenting the Sha ba rabs here with some short commentary, as a compliment to the ethnographic data from Changmadung. I recorded the following version of the Sha ba rabs from the bon po of Nyimshong village, high on the west bank of the Jamkhar Chu river in Kheng Chikor. Other bon po from neighbouring Kheng villages along both banks of the river reported having the same chant. The narrative itself is a Khengkha-influenced oral text. Uncharacteristically for a

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rabs from this region, much of the text is in the form of first person narrative. This chanted example is obviously abbreviated from a more elaborate story, the extensive version of which is now no longer entirely or accurately recalled. In the translation to follow, clarifying glosses offered by the bon po narrator in response to my questions are set within brace marks {} or explained in annotations, while interpolations to aid a smoother reading occur in square brackets []: Narrative of the Stag “I, the {king’s} son went up and up {while I was out night-hunting}.42 I met with a stag there that was white above and red beneath.43 Due of this, I, the king’s {son}, was stricken in life and limb.” The astrologer perceived the worst omen: “The king’s {son} is stricken in life and limb Because his vital force has been cut off by a stag, A stag that is white above and red beneath!” The hunter44 mGon-po rDo-rje45 was already deceased, however {His son} the hunter Me-rog Sag-steng46 said, “Bring poison {for arrows} from Ngang-mda’ La pass!47 Bring iron {for arrowheads} from the land of the Mon-pa!48 For arrow fletches, bring the feathers of the monal pheasant!49 Bring a bowstring 50 from Mon-yul! For a bow, a ‘strong shoulder bow’ from the West51 is necessary. Fetch the arrows from Gangs-dkar Sha-med.52 When they have been brought, I, the hunter, will need them. I was within the body of my venerable mother {still unborn when my father, the hunter, died}, So, it is said I did not want to leave the house, and was dispirited.53 [Departing for the chase,] I crossed over a hill, and entered a valley. There I saw a black stag.

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Just as I aimed my arrow at it, [It said] ‘It was not I {who afflicted the prince}, for I am the bdud’s stag. The stag that is white above and red beneath is behind the hill.’ I crossed over the hill and descended into another valley. There I saw a yellow stag. I took aim at it with an arrow, [And it said,] ‘I am the klu’s stag. The stag that is white above and red beneath is behind the hill.’ I crossed over the hill and descended into another valley. There I encountered a red stag. I took aim at it with an arrow, [And it said,] ‘I am the btsan’s stag. I am not the stag that is white above and red beneath you [seek]. Yet, the stag that is white above and red beneath is behind the hill.’ There I saw hoof prints where it had passed by a few days earlier. I then dispatched both the white-mouthed and blackmouthed hunting dogs. There they spotted the stag that is white above and red beneath. The stag said, ‘I did not cause the king’s {son} to be stricken in life and limb. It was not I.’ The hunter replied, “Both the white-mouthed and black-mouthed hunting dogs know it is you.” There the hunter shot his lethal arrow into the stag’s loins. Just then the stag said, ‘I am the bdud’s stag. I will go to the floor of the valley to die. I am the btsan’s stag. I will go to the head of the valley to die. I am the lha’s stag. I will go to the Land of the lHa [above] to die. When I drink, I sup the blue waters in the rock clefts. When I eat, I consume the green grass of the alpine meadows.

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

When I sleep, I repose upon the summits of rocky bluffs. When I die, I will expire at the boundary between the meadow and the forest.’ He said this, and the hunter suffered {from chasing the wounded stag to such places}. Finally, the stag died, and so the hunter declared, “Its antlers are for the prince. The internal organs are the ransom for the prince. I will pack them within the narrow tube of my quiver.”54 He said this and went [to the palace], where the king told him, “Because you have arrived at the palace {with the ransom}, the prince has been freed from his illness.”55 Concerning the possible interpretation and wider significance of this seemingly modest Sha ba rabs, here I will merely draw brief attention to three points. To begin with, the narrative is a glud rabs that appears to have once framed an actual glud rite for ransoming the lost or stolen ‘vital force’ (srog) or ‘mobile vitality principle’ as srog seems to signify among Khengkha speakers. We can be quite certain of this. At other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship in the region, glud rites are indeed still performed within Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals together with their own ritual antecedent narratives, and while those rabs have different features, they do share general similarities with the Sha ba rabs (see ch. 11). For such rites, animals or animal substitutes are always the ransom exchanged for reversing a loss of vitality. It is important to note that, in the context of the cult, such glud are performed on behalf of the entire worship community as an annual calendric rite, and thus their goals are generally restorative of compromised vitality in relation to the past year, and pre-emptive for the period until the next festival. Due to reasons unknown, an actual glud item (yas stags) is no longer used at Kheng Nyimshong, and the rabs is only combined with the stag bro cited above. This humble performance should not be overlooked. It appears to have formed a component of the overall glud rite in the past. Several performances of animal mimicking are commonly incorporated into different stages of Srid-pa’i lha worship

throughout the region. They belong to a substratum of practices and themes in the development of the regional cult of the Srid-pa’i lha. Furthermore, the stag’s chosen place of death, ‘at the boundary between the meadow and the forest’ (spangs dang nags kyi mtshams su), is a direct reference to sacred groves at which Srid-pa’i lha rites occur. It is precisely at such boundary places that glud and other transactions between humans and non-humans are set in motion and dispatched to the palaces of the latter to gain a desired result. The second point of interest here concerns some implied equivalences in the unfolding of the story; those between the act of hunting and the essential stages of a rite on the one hand, and the hunter and a ritual specialist on the other. The structure of the story has all the typical stages expressed in many ritual antecedent narratives, as well as a sequence of steps for applying an actual rite to solve a problem: crisis described; diagnosis of cause and possible solution; search for a ritual specialist and items required for the rite; performance of the rite; resolution/cure. The bulk of the Sha ba rabs obviously concerns searching. Stories of searches for messengers, priests, ritual ingredients and tools, ransom animals, the ‘soul’ and so on, constitute a fundamental story type in many known cycles of ritual antecedent narratives, be they preserved in ancient documents or chanted today by contemporary ritualists. The act of hunting is essentially a form of search, albeit one often involving a simultaneous chase. In this case, it is the most appropriate form of searching to ensure acquisition of the key ritual item, a wild animal whose body parts must be exchanged for a patient’s revival. Yet, prior to the hunt even commencing, the narrative incorporates an abbreviated version of another type of search also found in many ritual antecedent narratives: the primordial search for ritual implements or tools. Such searches are narrated in other glud rabs from the region and are usually undertaken by archetypal bon po specialists who set off to the different cardinal directions. In the Sha ba rabs, this second search type is condensed into the list of components required for the hunting equipment. These all originate from the cardinal directions surrounding Kheng as an ideal site of the narrative and the rite. The Bhutanese geography in the story is real, while the attribution of each

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item to a direction of origin is realistic, or at least it would have been in the pre-modern era: poison > Ngang-mda’ La = north; iron > the Monpa = west; bowstring > Mon-yul = east; bow > “west” [meaning nub brDa-gling-kha] = southwest (i.e., ideally south). Even the hunter himself is named after localities in far eastern Bhutan. This implies that he, too, originates or dwells in, and thus must be found at and invited from, another place, just as the archetypal bon po specialists usually are in many other rabs. In the Sha ba rabs, the hunter is the ritual specialist, and the entire procedure for his hunt is that of the rite. Thirdly, the Sha ba rabs shares parallels with two Tibetan glud narratives known from completely different contexts. One of these is preserved in the pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan document classified as IOL Tib J 734, and takes the form of a ritual antecedent narrative. The other occurs together with the formal instructions for a mdos rite named Sha ba ru rgyas. This latter tradition is recorded in the context of organised g.Yung-drung Bon, but versions of it also appear to have been employed by individual Himalayan ritual specialists and community priests with no connections to g.Yung-drung Bon.56 Typical of the rabs genre in general, and like the Sha ba rabs itself, both texts just mentioned are anonymous and undated. Since several scholars have already studied both IOL Tib J 734 and the Sha ba ru rgyas, for the purposes of a brief comparison with the Sha ba rabs here I will summarise relevant details from their work.57 In the Old Tibetan narrative, a young man goes to the wilderness to hunt deer and round up wild yak. There he sights, chases and unsuccessfully shoots arrows at three different stags in succession: a white stag of the lha, a black stag of the srin, and a spur bu (?) stag of human beings. Finally, a very particular stag named Dangs-po ’Pral-gangs appears with antlers of conch, a nose like a bird (byang > bya?), hair like a yak, and hoofs of tanned leather. The hunter shoots and wounds it with his arrow, yet the stag flees further and the hunter must pursue it cross-country before it finally dies. Just as the hunter butchers the carcass, a ’brog srin demon appears to deprive him of his mobile vitality principle (brla > bla), and he falls into a coma-like state between living and

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dying. Three bon specialists perform glud, g.yang len and other rites in order to restore the hunter to health. There are obvious differences, yet much of the main plot structure of the local Sha ba rabs is very close to that of the Old Tibetan story: young, male and ‘son’-marked (bu, bu chung, sras) hunters are the main protagonists; they undertake highland bow hunts after four different stags, some colourcoded, and each of which is indexed to a different ‘owner’ being, and one of which is unique; no arrows hit/are fired at the first three stags, while the unique fourth is wounded; it must be chased across a topography of cognate features (mda’ vs. lung pa’i mda’; lha brag dkar po’i rtse vs. brag gi rtse mo; la’i rgyab na vs. la’i rgyab tu, etc.); the stag dies and is butchered by the hunter; a glud finally results; a young hunter is revived. An additional perspective on both narratives may be afforded by Nicholas Allen’s presentation of stories involving animal guides and foundation myths from populations along the “whole Himalayan chain” (Nuristan to highland Southeast Asia). Narratives in Allen’s study which feature stags or deer as the animal guides to be followed also involve a king, hunts with bow and arrows and/ or dogs, and wounding or near misses with arrows.58 This suggests a much older and widely spread story type with cognate motifs, of which these glud rabs discussed here are examples. To be sure, the final foundation of any settlement in these animal guide narratives is completely absent from our glud rabs; it is rather the primordial establishment of a rite as a means of restoring health that transpires at the end of the journey. Concerning the Sha ba ru rgyas narrative for the mdos rite preserved in g.Yung-drung Bon, it occurs together with ritual steps to construct a model stag which serves as the actual glud item.59 Just as in our local Sha ba rabs, the body of this model stag is coloured in a specific manner, “the right flank of the body is to be white above and red beneath. The left flank is to be blue above and yellow beneath, the tail black, the back white, and the belly yellow.”60 The lengthy and elaborate “exposition” (smrang) for this rite explains how a king, his minister and their subjects, respectively, are aff licted with the loss of their mobile vitality principles (bla) due to demonic forces, who demand a ransom in exchange. A bird,

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

a stag and a tree become the respective ransom items. The stag is the specific ransom item for the mobile vitality principle of the minister, who is second in rank and thus parallel to the prince in our local Sha ba rabs, whose status is not yet that of a king. The three gshen bon specialists who serve as officiants are only said to ‘collect together’ or ‘arrange’ (bsdebs) the bird, tree and stag as ransom items. Thus, any mention of hunting (and indeed, killing of any kind) is completely absent. This seems like a typical editorial gesture towards the morality and soteriology promoted by the organised g.Yung-drung Bon religion. When the three gshen bon present the glud items in the myth, they include a black stag of the bdud, a red stag of the btsan, and a yellow stag of the klu, exactly as they appear in the Bhutanese Sha ba rabs. The multi-coloured model stag constructed for the Sha ba ru rgyas rite thus represents a combination of these different stags to address the range of deities within the local cosmos who must potentially receive the ransom. Symbolically, the Sha ba rabs is identical since the special stag that is white above and red beneath rhetorically subsumes the identities of the other stags with different colours and deity owners in its final speech before dying. It seems reasonable to assume that all three ‘bon’-identified glud narratives discussed herein are somehow related. The question is how? One rather common response to this question has been to claim continuity between a vaguely defined early ‘Bon tradition’ – the traces of which are assumed to be in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan narratives featuring bon and gshen priests who conduct rites such as glud – and the later religion calling itself g.Yungdrung Bon. This seems a very limited vision with which to think about an evidently complex past. On the one hand, the closeness of the eastern Himalayan Sha ba rabs to the Old Tibetan glud narrative simply cannot be explained with reference to g.Yung-drung Bon. On the other hand, differences between the Sha ba ru rgyas narrative over and against the other two stories are best explained in terms of conscious adaptation by past g.Yung-drung Bon redactors whose obligations are towards a cosmology of salvation. As with the representations of the ‘initiator’ gshen Ya-ngal discussed above, and as we will see in more comparative

analysis of rabs in chapters 14 and 15, the oral Sha ba rabs from Nyimshong reveals another case of cultural materials maintained by the bon shaman being closer to the oldest narratives of the same kind we possess, and in relation to which g.Yung-drung Bon appears more as a line of aberrant development than one of ‘unbroken continuity’. The 2011 Aheylha finished in the evening after the stag and peacock bro discussed above, when the bon po sent the Sridpa’i lha back up again to the third level of the sky world to rest. They were not completely returned to their actual abode atop the thirteenth level since their presence was still required. Following an evening meal, bon po Changchub set out along the path to the nearby settlement of Pangpala, in the company of a group of sponsors from that village to conduct the worship of their own Aheylha which commenced the following morning.

10.9 Transformations One purpose of this chapter is to indicate which aspects of worship became adapted or lost due to the transfer of this Srid-pa’i lha festival from one region to another in the context of migration and resettlement. Various examples of these changes have been noted. Moreover, using comparative observations on the stag bro from the Kheng Chikor origin area of Changmadung’s Aheylha festival, it was possible to discern what had become almost completely lost within this resettled migrant context. With the same comparative data, and information on social history, we can also convincingly investigate transformations that have occurred over time in the festival. So-called nawan rites staged at both Kheng sites and Changmadung afford a good opportunity to do this. The Kharpu festivals from which Aheylha is descended in Kheng still include a rite named nawan changpa identical in nearly all respects with Changmadung’s nawan bokpey.61 Yet, as pointed out above, the term nawan appears mismatched with the actual rites it designates in both cases. What transformations have occurred for this to be so?

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Both Changmadung Aheylha and contemporary Kharpu festivals in Kheng Chikor feature the same nor lha rites for livestock. Both use talismanic replica animals, such as ‘cattle’ represented by stones, which is what the term nawan actually designates elsewhere. Indeed, ‘luck bringing talisman’ is what nawan means in colloquial Khengkha today,62 with one informant elaborating, “In the villages people collect and keep stones or pebbles which are peculiar in shapes and colours at home. They believe that it will bring good luck and protect from bad things happening at home. This [sic.] stones are called nawan.”63 When the transfer of the term nawan from one type of rite to another occurred, the original nawan rite must have also undergone adaptation in Kheng. At sites to the north of Kheng Chikor, such as the Bumthang valleys, a rite equivalent to nor lha but named g.Yag-lha is performed by herders in open pasture areas, with live yak – as opposed to talismanic substitutes – being the actual focus of the procedures. Furthermore, to the north and elsewhere throughout the wider region, nawan rites are only related to wild animals or replicas of them (see ch. 13). From this wider perspective, we see a double transformation of rites must have occurred in Kheng: nawan originally related to hunting and wild animals became used for domestic livestock instead; and g.Yag-lha originally staged in high pastures with real yak became staged at the agrarian village boundary using stone replicas of cows instead. Kheng Chikor communities most probably once had rites called nawan related to hunting and game animals of the type we still find evidence of at many other Srid-pa’i lha worship sites (see ch. 13). One can well imagine possible reasons why they lost them, and then used a selected aspect of the practice for their domestic cows instead. Firstly, in many communities worshipping Srid-pa’i lha, missionary lamas have long been applying pressure to abandon killing large wild and domestic animals when staging festivals.64 As we have just seen, Kheng Chikor communities still maintain a ‘ransom’ (glud) rite based upon exchange of the body of a hunted stag with local spirits to ensure intact vitality, and a residue of this glud also persists at Changmadung. But, use of a wild stag in Kheng has been removed from this rite, at least as I observed it, nor, by all accounts, has a real stag been used within living memory. As the documentation

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of Tsango Lhamoche revealed, such changes are a common outcome of moralising lamas attempting to transform or halt local, non-Buddhist cultural practices. For the second transformation involving the nor lha rite, I would also assume that it was peoples of Bumthang, but especially the Ura population, who exposed the Kheng Chikor communities to Srid-pa’i lha rites for domestic livestock. Ura lineages and families have long maintained claims of territorial use rights over areas downstream of them along the Jamkhar Chu into Kheng Chikor. This apparently dates back to the pre-seventeenth century period of the Ura Dung, after which we know that the upper villages of Kheng Chikor had a very weak presence of Dung lineages compared to most Kheng areas further west.65 In premodern times, and up until a few decades ago, Ura was primarily a herding community, and part of their production cycle involved sending their hybrid livestock and cattle – not yaks – to lower altitude pastures in Kheng Chikor each winter, where Ura herders and sometimes also Kheng families tended these animals. Most likely this is how an original rite addressed to living yak was introduced to a lower altitude area in which yak do not – and cannot – exist, and then became applied to cows employing a rite technique related to nawan which had probably become redundant in other rites modified due to Buddhist missionary influence. These results are clear in the ritual practices and their names at both Kheng Chikor and Changmadung. Other types of contemporary transformations in the festival are revealed by demographic statistics. According to counts kept by local officials, during the period of my field research Changmadung was comprised of a total of fortythree households with a population of 380 persons. However, the actual number of village residents in situ was only 200, with eighteen houses in the village standing empty, closed and appearing neglected. Such partially abandoned villages, with populations increasingly depleted by outmigration, were a common fact of rural life – and a rapidly increasing trend – throughout the whole range of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities within eastern Bhutan during the period of the research. For the Aheylha of 2011, of the then 200 resident villagers only around fifty actively participated in the festival over the three days of its duration. Anecdotal

The A hey lh a Festi va l of Ch a ngm a dung

evidence suggests this is much lower than was formerly the case just a decade ago, an observation echoed by elderly informants in other worship communities right across the research region. A second observation is the age structure of the festival participants as a group. Most of them were mature adults, with very limited numbers of persons under twenty-five years of age. A younger generation who might be recruited into ritual roles in the future to replace the current generation are not present to observe and learn how to stage the festival. Thus, while Aheylha was a vital festival at the time of my research, all indications were that it had been in gradual decline due to a lack of interest and falling investment of ritual labour by the community. This parallels the fate of Changmadung itself and, to some extent, much of rural eastern Bhutan at the time of my research, throughout which resident village populations were also in decline. Several decades of steady out-migration up to then were linked to a whole complex of interacting factors, including labour market forces, the education system, new aspirations incompatible with village life and society, slow development of rural infrastructure, rapidly increasing urbanisation, government resettlement programs, challenges to viable subsistence agriculture in a cash economy with consumerist values, and still other inf luences.66 At the time of my research in eastern Bhutan, a significant portion of persons below thirty years of age neither learnt about nor participated in the cycle of subsistence production and its attendant social and cultural practices in their natal villages. Yet, highland farming and pastoralism is the only socioeconomic environment that revitalisation rites such as the Srid-pa’i lha cult have ever existed within and derived their significance from.

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11.

Th e Ba pu Lh a sösh e Festi va l of Th e m pa ng

At the time my field research was conducted, the Thempang community of Dirang district staged the largest festival related to Srid-pa’i lha worship within the Mon-yul Corridor (map 6). The Bapu Lhasöshe festival, occurring only once every six years, was one of the most socially complex non-Buddhist ritual events in the area. Its salient feature was the centrality of Thempang’s clan system for defining most aspects of the event. This begins already with the common name for the festival, Bapu Lhasöshe, meaning ‘Propitiation of the lHa [by] the Bapu [clans].’1 All male members of the four land-owning, exogamous ‘clans’ (tshan) in the community carried the hereditary rank of Bapu. Only the members of Bapu-ranked clans may participate as ritual specialists and worshippers during the festival, which is focussed upon their own ancestral deities.

11.1 Community, History and Environs The old cloistered and walled Thempang village,2 together with its later-founded satellite settlements,3 sits at the traditional frontier of a certain kind of eastern Himalayan contact zone. Thempang is the easternmost community in the Mon-yul Corridor shaped by a dominant influence of cultural patterns and languages carried by migrants from the Tibetan Plateau margins and eastern Bhutan. Further east and south of Thempang, all the neighbouring hill peoples, including the four so-called Sartang4 villages of Rahung, Khuitam, Khoina and But (i.e., modern Jirigaon), the Sherdukpen (or Mee) and Bugun (or Khowa), as well as the Miji (or Dhammai) and Aka (or Hruso) are fundamentally different peoples. They speak other languages belonging to the provisional Kho-Bwa and Hrusish sub-groups, some of

which have not yet been definitively classified within the Tibeto-Burman family.5 They maintain alternative social and cultural institutions, and they have their own distinctive senses of origins and identities. Compared with the long-established sedentary agro-pastoralism of the Thempangpa, until very recently their southern and eastern neighbours practiced quite different forms of domestic production. These included a high predominance of swidden cultivation, more reliance upon hunting, fishing and wild foraging, plus a mass seasonal migration related to trade and tax collection in the case of the Sherdukpen and occasional raiding by certain Miji, Aka and Sherdukpen factions. Finally, while it is obvious that many aspects of the premodern material culture of the Thempangpa are closely related to those highland groups living further north as far as the Tibetan Plateau, and westwards into Bhutan, all available premodern records show that their southern and eastern neighbours had far more in common with the lowland material cultures found southwards in the hill tracts extending to the plains of Assam and throughout the foothills of the Himalayas further to the east. In addition to its frontier status, Thempang is also the oldest settlement south of the Ze La pass in terms of scientifically acceptable datings. The village is first mentioned as a well-established site and social community in literary sources dated from 1680 onwards, and they imply its foundation to have been well prior to that era.6 Recent radiometric testing of samples from early buildings known as Dirkhi Dzong associated with the settlement’s origins are dated to around 1400, and will be discussed below. This evidence is at least half a millennium older than any we have concerning the existence of all other neighbouring

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populations within the same region. Thempang village itself sits defensively perched atop a high ridge with steep, forested approaches on three sides. This obvious strategic location, additionally fortified by a stone wall around the old village core, with two massive stone gates positioned to the north and south, are all testimonies to centuries of conflict and insecurity in relation to neighbouring hill peoples. Local oral tradition preserves collective memories of bloody local wars fought with tribal raiding parties coming from the east, with the Sherdukpen coming from the south, and even from the Drukpa or pre-modern Bhutanese state further west. There is certainly documentary evidence of a serious conflict occurring between Thempangpa and the Sherdukpen community in 1810-1811,7 as well as of on-going raiding by itinerant groups from the east and south whom local oral histories of today identify only as “Miji.”8 It is important to emphasise that ethnic identities of these premodern raiders into the Dirang area actually remain unknown in most cases prior to the twentieth century, primarily because they are always referred to with purely generic references, such as Kla-klo, Klopa, Kha-dkar, Kha-khra, Kha-nag, Gyi-do, and so forth in the older Tibetan language documents we have available. In fact, the oldest indigenous record providing an actual ethnic identity for violent raiders in the Mon-yul Corridor dates to ca. 1824 and clearly names them as having been Sherdukpen,9 while Aka are also mentioned in later times. 10 Raiding parties by neighbouring populations from the east and south regularly forced all Dirang communities south of Nyukmadung village beneath the Ze La pass to pay forms of tribute to them on threat of violence. Thempang was always one of the first communities such raiding parties would reach when entering the Dirang region. This challenge of raiding for the Thempangpa is historically recorded back at least to the seventeenth century, 11 although we do not know when it began or who the raiders were. Regular experience of pillage and theft probably explains the folk etymology behind the name Thempang. The written Classical Tibetan form them spang is a specific expression meaning ‘not letting (spang) things go beyond the doorsill/threshold (them) [of the house]’, and also referring to ‘precious items a household does not allow others to use/borrow.’12

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Despite certain strategic challenges, the pre-modern Thempangpa appear to have maintained a limited degree of autonomous political and economic power not enjoyed by other Dirang area settlements. The sophistication and enduring integrity of their internal social organisation and village cultural institutions, such as the clan system and Lhasöshe festival, are a clear reflection of that. According to historical claims already raised in the seventeenth century Rgyal rigs, the Thempang Bapu clans independently collected a small tribute payment (posa) from the Char duar lands around Darrang, east of the Dhansiri River. This small tribute, paid from the early nineteenth century until the time of my research, was converted to an annual cash payment by the British colonial government during the mid-nineteenth century. 13 Due to this status, the British regarded Thempang as belonging to the “independent Mombas” whom the Assamese called “Thebengiah Bhutias”. Additionally, the Bapu clans controlled pasturelands along the high ridges running up north towards the main divide of the Himalayas. They leased some of these lands to groups of pastoralists from Mago that, until the early 1950s, was a private Tibetan estate held by an aristocratic family and administered from neighbouring Loro.14 Thempangpa have also leased these pastures to other more recent pastoral migrants from east Bhutan for seasonal grazing. This continued to yield the Bapu additional income in the form of live yak, some sheep, Tibetan salt and more recently cash payments. 15 Moreover, the Thempang Bapu clans also demanded annual tribute payments from the village of Phudung south of the Manda La pass, and from the village of Lish immediately north of Dirang, both of which lay along the main Tibet-India trade route.16 The origins of these tributes are nowadays unclear, and have left no trace in local documents. However, both Phudung and Lish had – and still have in some respects – a very low social status in the eyes of long-established Tshangla speaking Dirang communities,17 and were both of very marginal significance during the premodern era. These are typical hallmarks of migrants who arrived in historically later waves, and who incurred hereditary obligations to older, established communities – for instance, as political clients or as tenants – in exchange for eventually establishing themselves within the region. As discussed below, analogous obligations exist as

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

an internal dynamic within the Thempang community, as well as in other similar communities around Dirang, that have all accepted later migrants within their orbits. Thempang enjoyed another advantage due to its location. It sits at the southern terminus of an alternative, high altitude route for trade and travel connecting the eastern Monyul Corridor with the Tibetan Plateau via Mago. This route, nowadays known as the “Bailey Trail”, runs north from Thempang along the high ridge lines via the Tse La pass up to the three Mago pastoral settlements, and then across the main Himalayan range via the Tulung La pass to reach Loro in Tibet.18 Although offering more limited seasonal passage, this high trail completely by-passed the main trade route via Tawang, the Ze La pass, Senge Dzong, Dirang Dzong and Talung Dzong which was closely controlled and taxed by the Tibetan Ganden Phodrang state and its monastic agents. Finally, in terms of what Thempang could offer the Tibetan overlords who had annexed the region, the community was unlike the other older Dirang communities located at valley floor and river terrace sites along the trade route. Being a hill settlement that grew little or no rice, it did not represent a source of that premodern ‘luxury’ crop which was so highly sought-after by elite consumers in Tibet, and therefore subject to a trade monopoly. Thus, Thempang’s main annual tax payments were discharged instead in barley, which, being the commonest of Tibetan staples, had a far lower value.19 In summary, Thempang was claimed by the Ganden Phodrang as the easternmost outpost of its lHo-mon Shar-nub sTod-smad territory from 1680 until the mid-twentieth century,20 but due to its aforementioned advantages and semi-autonomy, the community appears to have been largely spared the excesses of Tibetan tax burdens suffered by other Dirang villages located directly along the main north-south trade route. Today, we find nearly all Thempang households are both Buddhist and Tshangla speaking in common with other long-established communities of the older, historically attested migrant strata who have long been socially and economically dominant within Dirang district. These include Thempang’s historical offshoot at Namshu, 21 also Dirang Busti and its satellites, Yewang, and Sangti and

some of its satellites. As in all Dirang communities, Thempangpa households are also multilingual, with knowledge of Dakpa and some Tibetan among elder persons, a few of who are also quite literate in classical Tibetan. Additionally, modern Hindi, Tibetan and English, some Assamese and occasionally a smattering of the Kho-Bwa dialects of neighbouring communities are also spoken by different individuals, usually depending upon their age, social background and experience. Thempangpa households follow forms of Tibetan-style Buddhism promoted by both rNying-ma-pa and dGe-lugspa schools, yet with a non-sectarian tolerance typical of long-established communities in the region. The substantial stone Buddhist temple above the village lay derelict at the time of my fieldwork, but represents what was once an older and well-sponsored site. 22 This was a rNying-ma-pa temple, and the hereditary lama household living next to it at the time of my field research also followed rNying-ma-pa practices mixed with other influences. The next significant Buddhist site is located at nearby Namshu, a village whose old name can literally mean ‘Petitioning the Sky’ (CT Namzhu). 23 This is fitting since it stages its own rich Lhasöshe or Chisöshe festival once every three years (see appx. A), albeit that the event has become syncretised with village Buddhism. Namshu features a small, old community temple locally known as the Mang Gompa. The foundation is reputedly one of the earliest sites of missionary conversion by the dGe-lugs-pa school within the region.24

11.2 Clans and Status Groups Thempangpa social organisation is based upon a ranked hierarchy of patrilineal clans,25 which in turn is a result of, and strongly reflects, older historical processes of migration and assimilation within this part of the Mon-yul Corridor. The basic social divisions existing at Thempang are also found at the related, long-established settlements of Dirang region where an earlier strata of Tibetan Plateau influence is most strongly apparent in both social and ritual systems, namely at Dirang Busti, Yewang, Namshu and extending more weakly into some settlements along the Sangti valley.

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It can first be noted that the terminology and discourse of descent reckoning in these currently Dirang Tshangla speaking communities is not any ‘Himalayan’ one found further to the east or south. Rather, without doubt it is completely derived from the theory and practice long used by older Tibetan Plateau populations and their descendants who migrated into adjacent Himalayan highland areas. 26 For example, the locally used oral terms we can meaningfully translate in context as ‘clan’, namely tshan and mitshan (written tshan and mi tshan), are not actually local. If one consults historical documents written within these same communities, such as the various versions of the Rgyal rigs and local ‘clan books’, it can be seen that tshan terms have often been used interchangeably with other standard Tibetan descent and social group terminology, such as rigs, rus and rgyud, in order to define the same concepts and groups for several centuries, and probably much longer. 27 While the very old Tibetan term tshan might best be generally understood as a ‘unit of kindred persons’, more specifically it is a widespread and highly productive marker for patrilineal descent, agnatic groups and various male corporate identities.28 Furthermore, the critical mechanism or vector describing both male descent and its ‘quality’ when assigning status in local thinking is termed khang or ‘bone’ and sometimes ruikhang, both equivalent to the standard Tibetan rus and rus khang ‘bone’ terms for representing the transmission mode of male descent. Thus, tshan at Thempang and the historically older neighbouring settlements means a ‘unit of kindred persons sharing the same bone.’ However, since each tshan is also locally defined in relation to origin narratives expressing a shared notion of common descent from a mythical ancestor (see below), and thus must observe exogamy rules, these tshan certainly accord with minimal definitions of ‘clan’ circulating in contemporary discussions of kinship and descent.29 A second important point is that, while clan identities in Tibetan and high Himalayan contexts can often be found surviving merely with minimal functions – as boundary markers for exogamy and reference points for mythically validated identities – they certainly had a more robust significance in the Dirang area at the time of my research. In

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the long-established Dirang communities descended from northern migrant ancestors, membership of a tshan or clan determined many aspects of social life. My own ethnographic data revealed clan membership and identity was implicated in a whole spectrum of social and economic practices beyond marriage. These included land ownership (e.g., of specific corporate tshan sa or ‘clan lands’), landuse rights and access to other productive resource bases (e.g., forest and pasture), residence patterns, status ranking and terms of address, food taboos, ritual obligations and participation, regulation of inheritance, and access to local networks of mutual support and trust (e.g., for credit and money-lending). Historically, clans were also central to the operations of the premodern Tibetan-imposed taxation system within the same long-established Dirang communities. Of most importance in the present context, I found communal ritual participation within villages to be highly clan specific. For instance, at some Dirang sites, each larger tshan even has its own, separate Buddhist temple, while the types of non-Buddhist deities collectively worshipped by a tshan yield one of several strong indications of each clan’s historical and geographical origins. The Thempangpa maintain a named, twofold status division among all their clans. At the time of my field research, these were the higher ranked Bapu with around fifty households, and the lower ranked Gila with forty-two households.30 Bapu (written ba spu) is the hereditary rank title carried by male members of the four land-owning, exogamous tshan in the community, while the hereditary title for female members born into these same clans is Aya/Ayie (written A ya). Within Dirang Circle, the same titles both occur for high ranked clan members at Namshu and Dirang Busti. Both male ba spu and female A ya ranks are already attested in redactions of the Rgyal rigs of 1688,31 and are no doubt much older. At present, we can but speculate about the origins of these titles. The Rgyal rigs informs us that ba spu is an Indian language title based upon bābū or baboo, although that is difficult to correlate with other evidence.32 It should certainly be considered that a bābū or baboo origin for ba spu would have been a local folk etymology intended to enhance claims of rights over duar lands to the south.

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

Parallel to the claim that the term is of Indian origin, the earliest formal spelling ba spu, literally ‘feather(s)/hair(s) of the Ba’, also recalls a metaphorical reference to numerous descendants of the Ba which is one of the oldest social identities traceable throughout the research region (see chs. 12, 16). The A ya term may derive from a type of hereditary ritual specialist designated by the same Classical Tibetan spelling A ya, with the identical term also applied to members of their descent lineages.33 There is local textual reference to these A ya ritual specialists in the Srid-pa’i lha cult region (see chs. 5, 6), as well as the presence of this type of A ya and lineages designated as such in southernmost Tibetan Plateau regions. The derivation of the lower status term Gila remains uncertain. Within the twofold Bapu-Gila status division, the Bapu group can easily be labelled as ‘clans’ since they conform far more strongly to all the characteristics of tshan as clan discussed above. Although the Gila lineages are also conventionally termed tshan today, they resemble what Michael Oppitz termed ‘pseudo-clans’ to designate different historically assimilated strata of migrants within the same community among the Sherpa of highland Nepal, and I will adopt his term here.34 At Thempang, Gila pseudo-clans consist of later migrants – and perhaps remnants of earlier settlers in one case – who had their identities and status defined for them by the Bapu based upon two criteria. One is the original home places from where Gila persons first migrated, the other is land allotment to Gila by Bapu as original landowners. Thus, Gila pseudo-clan names encode their purported places of origin,35 while Bapu clan names encode the personal identities of their putative ancestors, as discussed below. The Gila themselves cite no apical ancestors and have no old documentary evidence of longterm habitation in the area. Thempangpa are unanimous that when the successive Gila pseudo-clans migrated to Thempang, they were each allotted land to use by a specific land-owning Bapu host clan. It was on the basis of these land allotments that Gila were then bonded to perform service for their respective Bapu hosts. Thus, each Bapu clan became paired with a Gila pseudo-clan partner in the twotier36 Thempang social system (fig. 15).

Bapu clans Khochilu

Gila pseudo-clan partners - tödsong division

Merakpa

- prangsong division

Lhopsonga

Sharchokpa

Sharmu & Merakpa

Atajipu

Nyimsong

Dirkhipa

Nyimsong37

é Figure 15. Clans and their relations at Thempang.

The residence location of all households within the old, walled Thempang village is strictly divided by clan group, in the same manner as it can be in other older Dirang area villages. The original core of founding, land-owning Bapu clans occupy the majority of central and eastern areas, while the migrant Gila pseudo-clans are located on their western and southern peripheries (fig. 16). These latter sites allocated to the later migrants would have been far less favourable in terms of defence in premodern times, as well as exposure to strong seasonal winds in the area. Khochilu is regarded as senior among the four Bapu clans, and its twofold division into ‘upper ones’ (tödsong) and ‘lower ones’ (prangsong) reflects physical residence within the old village (fig. 16). The fact that each Khochilu division is served by its own Gila pseudo-clan in part supports the notion of it being ‘senior’ among the Bapu.38 A strict marriage bar exists between members of Bapu and Gila tshan. Intermarriage between Bapu and Gila is believed to result in diminution of the quality of Bapu patrilineal ‘bone’ (khang). This is indexed to a corresponding decline in social status of any subsequent offspring, such that one speaks of the difference between originally ‘big boned’ (khang tangpu) ancestors having ‘small boned’ (khang zembu) offspring as a result.39 Another factor that marks the division between Bapu and Gila is traditional dietary taboos. For Bapu lineages, customarily permitted meats include yak, cow, sheep, deer and fish, while forbidden ones are pork and chicken. Other Bapu-titled clans in the Dirang region, such as the Sertipa and Dungkharpa at Dirang Busti, also have very similar dietary taboos. 40 As I

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known as the Gila Lhasöshe. The Sharmu worship separately from all other pseudo-clans. They focus upon one purely autochthonous deity. In every case, the specific deity worshipped by each Bapu clan and Gila pseudo-clan is intimately related to the respective origin places and migration histories that they report. For the Bapu clans, it is certainly worthwhile reviewing their notions of origins and migration briefly here, particularly due to what they reveal about social history and the status of Srid-pa’i lha cult narratives within the village.

Notions of Community Origins

é Figure 16. Residence locations of clans and pseudo-clans in Thempang village.

discussed in chapter 5, the taboo on pork and chicken meat consumption is the defining one for any hereditary bon shaman. Thus, it is both an index of status ranking and points back to a more northern, highland or Tibetan Plateau ancestry to serve as an ‘ethnic’ marker in the complex post-migration cultural landscape of regions such as West Kameng. Another principal factor for dividing all eight Thempang clans into two ranked status groups are the principal deities whom they worship and the ritual and narrative system they employ for this. The four Bapu clans collectively worship the Srid-pa’i lha progenitor ’O-de Gung-rgyal, along with a shared clan skyes lha or ‘natal deity’ named La-chong whom they brought from their place of origin on the Tibetan Plateau, and whom they mythically assimilate to ’O-de Gungrgyal. They also pay respects to several minor place spirits indigenous to the topography of their settlement area. In strong contrast to this, none of the four Gila pseudo-clans worship the two principal Bapu deities. Rather, the Merakpa, Lhopsonga and Nyimsong Gila clans all worship the regional female deity A-ma Jo-mo in a combined festival

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The Buddhist monk Ngag-dbang, author-compiler of the Rgyal rigs, recorded the oldest dateable narrative account of the Thempang Bapu in the late seventeenth century. He was an ‘outsider’ in relation to Thempang, hailing from a separate valley system and society much further to the west, and a member of a clan unknown in Thempang’s history. As an author, Ngag-dbang represented a specific set of political and religious interests related to a group of his elite sponsors. His modus operandi was collection and reporting of stories about clans, lineages and areas that he himself often appears to have had no direct knowledge of. This latter feature is particularly apparent when it comes to Ngag-dbang’s lack of specificity – or lack of any information – concerning areas to the north (see ch. 16) and east of his base around bKra-shis-sgang in eastern Bhutan. The Rgyal rigs claims that Thempang Bapu were ultimately descendants of an exiled Tibetan Buddhist prince styled lHa-sras gTsang-ma. This descent was by way of the youngest of two brothers who were scions of the Wang-ma clan that was resident and active in east Bhutan: […As for] the younger [Wang-ma] brother, dPal-ladar, he went together with three meditators who had come from Lhasa and Samye and took two bodyguards (Ar po)41 with him. After his pilgrimage to Lhasa and Samye, he returned by way of Lo-ro in the company of two Tibetan meditators. They arrived in Shar Them-spang, and the two meditators addressed Wang-ma dPal-la-dar using terms of great respect,

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

calling him ‘Lha-btsun.’ At this, the elder-chief (gtso rgan) of Them-spang named A-rgyal inquired, “What is the reason for using the name ‘Lha-btsun’?” The older meditator responded, “As for that name ‘Lhabtsun Chos-mdzad’,42 since he is a princely descendant of the former king of bSam-yas, Khri Sronglde-btsan, we call him ‘Lha-btsun’.” The elder-chief A-rgyal believed this and said, “Well, if that is the case, we need him to stay as our lord and suppress the white-mouthed and black-mouthed Gi-du.”43 The [village] counsellors and subjects paid him respect, and because he exercised power over the duars (las sgo) of India, he was given the Indian language title of Bapu (ba spu). While some say the origins of the Bapu of Them-spang are from bSam-yas, this is said on the basis that Wang-ma dPal-la-dar came there from the direction of bSam-yas. All the Bapu who are born in Them-spang are descendants of Wang-ma dPal-la-dar.44 Thus, Ngag-dbang’s ‘outsider’ account is not an origin story of the Thempangpa community, since his narrative informs us it was already an established, organised and regionally networked social entity inhabiting the site prior to appearance of the Wang-ma scion. It is rather an account of how the Bapu title and status came to be associated with Thempang by way of a single elite migrant with a ‘royal Buddhist’ pedigree whom Ngag-dbang – or his sponsors – sought to draw attention to. This was most likely done to legitimise and emphasise Wang-ma claims to rights over duar lands in Assam at the time, and some redactions of the Rgyal rigs contain detailed records of such Wang-ma claims. Alternative evidence presented below suggests that Ngag-dbang’s report that all Bapu at Thempang are descended from a single Wang-ma scion is not credible, or at very least it might be only one possible part of a more complex picture. Moreover, the writer’s use here of the ‘invitation’ motif well known from regional original narratives is a dubious instance of story telling, since it pivots upon a mere coincidence. Present-day Bapu who are literate in Classical Tibetan are well aware of this narrative, and a manuscript of the Rgyal rigs copied from a text in Tawang is available within the Thempang community. Yet, they themselves often tell their own

very different local origin narratives which make no mention whatsoever of lHa-sras gTsang-ma and his descendants. It is these that are worthy of investigation. The following oral narrative was told by a male Thempangpa aged in his fifties at the time of recording. This narrator is a member of a Bapu clan who was living as a subsistence farmer and occasional village ritual specialist. He is literate in Classical Tibetan and has a manuscript Rgyal rigs in his personal library. Due to a combination of individual and family circumstances, he took an interest in oral story transmissions about his community. Thus, we know his narrative draws upon a wide variety of cultural resources for its telling. The narrative itself was unelicited, being recorded during a Bapu Lhasöshe festival staged at Thempang. The setting was a village house dedicated to communal preparations by a clan-based ceremonial faction (tsheshomba) during the final preparatory day before the festival, when a group of male members from the narrator’s clan gathered around him listening to the tale. It describes the origins of human beings in the region who are Bapu, the beginning of the Bapu Lhasöshe festival, the bringing of a Bapu ruler directly from Tibet, and the division of the Bapu into four clans: There were two brothers, Cha Cha and Nye, who descended from the sky. They were the first beings in the land of Mon. They came down to earth at a high place above Jirigaon (i.e., But village). The elder brother Cha Cha said, “There should be a deity and also people to worship him, otherwise there will be problems. So, I will be the deity and you, younger brother, should be the man who worships me.” The younger brother Nye was initially unwilling to take on this role, but he agreed to do so upon one condition. Lhasöshe was the worship that Nye had to perform towards Cha, and it entailed him giving offerings of cattle and sheep to his elder brother. Nye told his elder brother, “I will worship you but you must first wait for some time since there are no cattle and sheep, so wait until the dark charcoals turn into cattle and the white stones turn into sheep.” While waiting, the brothers did not see each other for one twelve-year cycle, during which time the

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dark charcoal turned into cattle and the white stones turned into sheep. The first worship of Cha by Nye was the beginning of the Lhasöshe festival. The elder brother Cha became the local deity ata Jowodi, who was worshipped throughout the area before the Bapu clans arrived from Tibet to settle at Thempang. When the Bapu clans arrived, they brought with them their own natal deity (skyes lha) from Tibet, Lachong, who is actually the da45 bodyguard of the deity and mountain Yarlha Shampo since Yarlung is the area they originally came from. During Lhasöshe, Lachong was worshipped together with the lha, and with ata Jowodi, as well as with a local tsen (btsan) deity called Dumri who dwells above Thempang village. This is still the case today. It is said that previously, the Bapu Lhasöshe was only performed once every twelve years due to the first period Nye had to wait for the cattle and sheep to come into being for offering to Cha.46 It is not known exactly why a six-year interval for Lhasöshe came into being later. Prior to the time when the Bapu clans arrived from Tibet, there were two human brothers at Thempang who were the descendants of the younger brother Nye and his wife. These brothers were called Mila and Yonda, and they were the local Bapus of Thempang. They went down to the Majbhat 47 area in Assam to collect taxes from the Boro, but they did not know the local language spoken there. They received all due taxes except for thread. When the brothers had to ask for the thread tax that was owed to them, they could not communicate this in words to the Boro. So, the elder brother Mila took out his knife and cut the earth back and forth, just like a woman winding the thread back and forth between two sticks when preparing to weave. Interpreting this wrongly, the Boro thought, “Although we have already given so many items of tax to these two brothers, they now want to take our land as well.” Thus, the Boro beat Mila and Yonda to death. Their deaths were the result of a curse. Mila and Yonda’s father had died very early, and their crooked maternal uncle had taken over the father’s tax collecting duties on behalf of his sons, Mila and Yonda. People told the brothers that their maternal

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uncle was withholding some of their tax payment for himself, and so the two brothers killed their uncle. They first chased him to But (i.e., Jirigaon), and then on to Thongri (i.e., towards Rupa), where he climbed a cliff, hid in a small cave, and covered himself and the cave entrance with a large metal pot. The brothers could not reach this spot or successfully shoot at him. So, they put some biting ants on a long bamboo pole and raised this up the cliff face to the mouth of the cave. The ants climbed up the pole, into the cave, and bit the uncle on the foot, so that in pain, he stuck out his leg from behind the pot, and they could then shoot poison arrows in his calf muscle. Before the uncle died, he cursed the two brothers, “You will also be killed by the people.” So, it came to pass when the Boro killed Mila and Yonda. In Assam, sometimes the days were very long and the nights were very long, causing difficulties for people. So, the Boro consulted their priest for a solution. He told them to construct idols of Mila and Yonda. But when they attempted to do this, whatever work they completed on the idols during the daytime they found it rent asunder upon arriving at the site again the following morning. The idols could not be completed. One day, a small boy who was looking after a baby that he carried around on his back 48 was appointed to look after the idols and to find out who was destroying the work each night. While the boy was guarding the idols, two white birds who were the mobile vitality principles49 of Mila and Yonda appeared from the sky, and they completed crafting both images. The birds then instructed the boy not to reveal their presence to anyone, and that if he was forced to tell, then he should insist on one condition: those to whom he would reveal the truth must first provide the boy with every type of edible item in the world. The following day, the Boro asked the boy how it was that the idols were now complete. He refused to talk, so they pressured him, and the boy promised to reveal all only after they had given him every type of edible item in the world. The Boro provided all the food, which the boy ate, also feeding the baby upon his back. Both then died after eating such a vast quantity. I have heard that in Assam, in Majbhat,

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

at a place called Kulay Gunkay, there is a temple with the two idols of Mila and Yonda in it, even today. And the local people still have to offer blood sacrifice to these idols, and they visit that temple to swear oaths. With the death of Mila and Yonda, there were no longer any Bapus in Thempang. The people in the area had to go up to Tibet to invite some Bapus to rule over and protect them. They brought new Bapus down from E Lhagyari. These Bapus came down from Tibet and took possession of all the land around Thempang and became the rulers. They were not called Bapu in Tibet but were known there as Jepön.50 The title Bapu was given to them by the Darrang people in Assam since that is their name for rulers. The Bapus went to the Gidu area in the east, found a high-status clan there, and married into it. But there was then a war between the Bapus and their Gidu affines. The Bapus then went south to the Rupa area, and married into a high-status clan there, but then there was a war with their Rupa affines also. The Bapus then married at Radi to the west in Bhutan, but again there was a war with them. Whomever the Bapus married, war resulted and relations broke down. The Bapus realised that whenever they married outside there was trouble, so they divided up their own single clan (rus) into four Bapu tshan and began intermarrying with one another instead. This meant that there was peace. This is the origin of the four Bapu tshan who descended from one clan.51 Another Thempangpa oral narrative I recorded begins instead with the Bapu ruler being invited from southern Tibet to re-establish a ruling line, and how the four Bapu tshan came into being. The narrator was a middle-aged male Bapu clan member who worked as the Tibetan teacher at the Thempang School during my field studies. Like the first narrator, he was also literate in Classical Tibetan and had read the Rgyal rigs. He also felt the need to take an interest in oral transmissions about the community’s past. The text was narrated while seated at the margins of the Rizang Thangka, a flat area beyond the south gate of Thempang village and the main ritual site for the events of Days Two and Three of Bapu Lhasöshe. It was not directly elicited. Rather,

the teller was asked to explain Rizang Thangka as a site at which Sherdukpen warriors once attacked the walled Bapu clan village of Thempang during the past. The following narrative then provided an unexpected prelude tale to that longer account of a Sherdukpen attack: The local people around Thempang needed a Bapu to rule over and protect them. They went north across the Ze La pass, carrying with them the legs of four different kinds of animals – the leg of a yak, that of a cow, a sheep and a goat, in order to invite a ruler. They arrived in Lhau and asked the people there whether they could tell them which animals each of the four legs belonged to. The Lhaupa confused the leg of the sheep with that of the goat, and the leg of the cow with that of the yak. Because nobody in Lhau was capable of a correct identification, the search party proceeded further north up to Tibet. There they found three brothers residing. They showed each of the three brothers in turn the animals’ legs, but only the youngest brother was able to make a correct identification. So, they invited the young boy, saying only, “Let us go hunting together.” The Tibetan boy agreed, and they took him down to Banggajang on the Ze La pass, where today there are two lakes very close together. These two lakes are in fact called ‘Bapu’s Weeping (Ba[-spu]-ngu-dbyangs52).’ At Banggajang, they informed the Tibetan boy that he would not be taken back home to Tibet. Instead, they would keep him in the lower regions so that he could become their ruler. At this news, the Tibetan boy became very upset, he wept a great deal, and the lakes formed from his tears. He complained, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this? At least I could have brought my possessions with me.” At this, the party took him on a tour from Ze La pass eastwards over to the Tse La pass and down the southern ridges to Thempang,53 while along the way they showed him all the lands that he would now rule over. At each different location he was shown, he would utter some word or other, and from then on those very words became the local place names.54 The Tibetan Bapu had four sons in Thempang named Dorji, Tanpa, Gyephu and

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Ngodir. Each of these sons became the founder of one of the four Bapu tshan at Thempang; Dorji is the ancestor of Khochilu, Tanpa the ancestor of Sharchokpa, Gyephu the ancestor of Atajipu, and Ngodir the ancestor of Dirkhipa.55 Both stories just given are but two examples among a wide and complex range of related oral origin narratives that myself and others have recorded recently from Thempangpa, or from neighbouring communities reporting about Thempang. Many tale motifs and characters in all these accounts are not exclusive to Thempangpa narrations. We can trace them to the Rgyal rigs (see below), and to story lines in local versions of A-lce lHa-mo dramas,56 as well as to the local histories of Tibetan Buddhist schools in the area,57 and to premodern pilgrimage guide-books for holy places.58 They are also traceable to a common set of very widespread motifs that are found right along the eastern Himalayas in folklore traditions maintained in different communities, and that are continually shared across ethnic and linguistic boundaries. Examples of these shared and circulating motifs in the stories above include that of the ‘two founder brothers’ commonly encountered further east along the Himalayas, 59 also the theme of ‘twin birds as constructors’ known from Sikkim,60 while I myself once heard many elements from the ‘Boro episode’ of the first story – including the purely Boro name Kulay Gunkay61 – from a Boro story-teller at a tea-stall in Assam who knew nothing whatsoever about Thempang.62 These are but a few examples of being able to set oral stories analytically within the context of many spoken and written narratives circulating in whatever wider environments their tellers draw upon. Likewise, individual oral narratives always ref lect subject positions of contemporary tellers and the circumstances of any story’s telling, all of which is crucial information necessarily attending any narrative recording. One can observe that senior Bapu males, like the two narrators described above, become storytellers because they are socialised to feel a weight of responsibility for maintaining any heritage about their ancestral lineages. From boyhood onward, they are told, and experience examples of, the practical need to be ready with stories for certain purposes that can influence everyday life outcomes. Such narratives

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can help inform their own and their family’s or clan’s current identity and standing within a given social context, or be brought to bear upon disputed issues like land rights transmitted via inheritance, or in debates over obligations existing between different community factions, and other issues such men are expected to negotiate when the need arises. Moreover, I observed that in the Mon-yul Corridor more generally, status definitely accrues to those individuals able to deliver convincing oral performances in public, while doing so also enables the attribution of specialist roles to those who seek to profile themselves in certain ways. Given all these realities attending oral narratives of origins, can we really expect to learn anything about the distant past from them? A surprising number of researchers publishing on eastern Himalayan peoples implicitly or explicitly accept the idea that there are single or more ‘pure’ oral stories of origins and migration for ethnolinguistic groups or ‘tribes’ in the region, as well as for individual communities, and that such stories can serve as valid data about the past beyond living memory. In my Introduction, I rejected this approach, albeit with the exception that some content from oral narratives may be useful if and when it can be correlated with valid alternative sources, such as historical documents, archaeological records, comparative ethnographic data, and so forth. Even if such supporting evidence is lacking, oral narratives are at least open to typological analysis to see, for example, whether they express cultural patterns more typical of one type of population stream than another. Here I will briefly examine both the Bapu oral narratives above by taking opposite approaches to them. I am interested in the type of stories we have here in terms of their dominant motifs compared with the wider narrative field we know they exist within. I will also focus upon certain unique data they contain, and if and how that can be correlated with supporting evidence about the past. Typologically, it is significant that both Thempang Bapu narratives are completely devoid of any Buddhist references. This strongly contrasts them with the content of the older Rgyal rigs passage on Thempang, and especially its longer backstory about lHa-sras gTsang-ma which draws heavily upon the widespread ‘Buddhist royal superhero’ tale type generated from earlier Tibetan gter ma historiographies

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and hagiographies strongly marked by an “imaginal persistence of the Empire”.63 Moreover, these non-Buddhist origin stories exist within what is outwardly a self-identified Buddhist Bapu community that remains heavily invested in the religion on both individual and communal levels. Furthermore, there is a dominance of motifs and themes across both stories that match those occurring within two other related narrative complexes from the region which are likewise non-Buddhist. One is the set of particular gDung origin myths preserved in the Rgyal rigs, the other being both written and oral origin narratives occurring exclusively across many Srid-pa’i lha worship communities throughout the wider region. These shared themes include, amongst others, human origins via descent from sky ancestors sometimes described as Phy[w]a (pronounced cha as in Cha Cha), direct southward migrations from southern Tibetan Plateau regions and searches for a new ruler from that same region – two motifs that together match John Ardussi’s analysis of gDung myths with “distinct phases of lineage termination and renewal”64 – selection processes for the correct future leader involving foodstuffs, children or youths as pivotal characters whose removal from Tibet is effected by stealth or deception, the symbolic importance of primordial lakes, incomprehension of different languages leading to fateful gestures, birds as symbolically significant creatures, messengers or go-betweens,65 and so forth. Finally, both these Bapu narratives end with concern for the genesis of internal social order, in the form of communal kin identities and marriage relations. Their common project is explaining how an initial unity from a claimed common ancestor led to the type of prescriptive practices of the recent past and present, and that I observed during my field research, namely, four exogamous Bapu clans preferring communal endogamy. In summary, the three points I have drawn attention to all indicate Thempang Bapu tell the same general type of stories about themselves as other Srid-pa’ lha communities far distant from them. These narratives are non-Buddhist, they claim ancestors from the sky and southern Tibet, while clan and family lineage identities within single communities define their social horizons. Another way of approaching these two Bapu oral stories is to focus upon unique data they preserve, in this case a

collection of names and a few story elements connected with them. The deity names Lachong and (Cha) Jowodi will be discussed in a following section, while here I will examine the four Bapu clan names and ancestral identities given in the second oral narrative. These names can be read partly as artefacts of historical transformation processes, as well as articulated with historical and archaeological data. It is worth noting first that all the names cited at the close of the second narrative are well known within the Thempang Bapu community. We have written Classical Tibetan spellings for three of the ancestor names and one of the clan names, and it is clear they all represent older Tibetan names or epithets. However, their current colloquial pronunciation and construction is influenced by an overlay of Tshangla as the now dominant spoken language of the community. This pattern of Tshangla influenced Tibetan can be found in proper names expressing social identities and toponyms throughout the Dirang area, including many older Tibetan and Dakpa clan names from the wider region. By comparing names in older written documents with modern colloquial pronunciations one can easily discern the two predictable vowel shifts from Tibetan e and u into Tshangla i and o, respectively.66 Furthermore, a later layer of Tshangla folk etymology is often associated with older Tibetan names. This can significantly distort their contemporary meanings in relation to what we have explicit evidence for in much older Tibetan language documents (see ch. 16). The ancestor names Tanpa (CT sTan-pa) and Gyephu (CT rGyal-phu) are both familiar in the form of the names sTanmang and rGyal-phu which designate foundation communities of old Tsango village in the upper Khoma Chu valley of north-east Bhutan, and from whom ancestral identities at that latter site are derived (cf. ch. 9). The name rGyal-phu is also present for a foundational site named Gyephukhar (CT rGyal-phu-mkhar) in the adjacent Bumdeling area of the upper Kholong Chu valley, where it is associated with the same social groups who were foundation communities of old Tsango. As I will discuss at length in chapter 16, these two river valleys and the ranges between them were a key site of resettlement by mid-fourteenth century Shar Dung migrants from lHo-brag. The old Gyephu name is nowadays spoken in Dirang Tshangla dialect at Thempang as Jipu and

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Atajipu (or Jepu and Atajepu by certain speakers). The initial ata element literally means ‘grandfather’ in Tshangla. It is used as a designation for ancestors which parallels use of both Tibetan mes mes and Dakpa achi found in the ritual language of the Srid-pa’i lha cult elsewhere. Thus, Atajipu means ‘Ancestor rGyal-phu’ as the correlative data lead us to expect. In the name Khochilu, the chilu element is the Tshangla adjective for ‘elder’ or ‘bigger’. Thus, the name literally means ‘The Elder Kho’. Kho here is a phonetic variant derived from Tibetan Khu due to the vowel shifts in Tshangla pronunciations of Tibetan words. The ‘elder’ Khu are one of the oldest southern Tibetan Plateau clans most frequently associated with Srid-pa’i lha worship communities across the Dzala and Dakpa speaking zone to the north. The Khu are a clan whom historical documents cite as having earlier migrated south from the Yarlung highlands into north-east Bhutan and Tawang, and who then moved still further south from Tawang into Dirang (see ch. 12). A range of compelling evidence for the Khu being a social component of the Shar Dung is reviewed in chapter 16. Unlike the other three names just discussed, we have no local Tibetan spellings for the ancestor name Ngodir and the derivative Dirkhipa clan. Local oral traditions link both names with Dirkhi Dzong, the older ruined site of a stone stronghold or settlement core located and still evident well below and to the south-east of Thempang village. Dirkhi Dzong is held to be the pioneering settlement site of the Bapu clans at Thempang. The Dirkhipa name strongly suggests a Tibetan-inf luenced construction formed by adding the standard nominaliser –pa to the site name Dirkhi. In chapter 16, I will offer evidence that the Khu and several other clans involved in the development of the Srid-pa’i lha cult were components of the Shar Dung population based in lHo-brag and its immediate environs. Shar Dung migration southwards would have commenced during the years 1352-1353, and together with their subsequent spread and resettlement into adjacent Himalayan valley systems of the research region all indicators point to this migrant population contributing a major cultural stratum to the regional development of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Material samples from the Dirkhi Dzong ruins were recently collected by the Japanese geographer Kazuharu Mizuno, who dated

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them using radiometric techniques to sometime around the year 1400.67 If this dating represents construction and early use of the site, it is highly likely to have been an early settlement of Shar Dung migrants from the Tibetan Plateau who resettled around the Dirang area. It is noteworthy that this dating closely coincides with the radiometric dating of samples from the ruined stone stronghold structure called bTsan-mkhar or Mi Zim-pa in the far east of Bhutan.68 Like Dirkhi Dzong, the bTsan-mkhar or Mi Zim-pa site features in regional origin narratives. Could these sites with their radiometric dates within the same decades represent a phase of fortress building by some ascendent population at the start of the fifteenth century? The migrant Shar Dung, whom fourteenth century Tibetan historians inform us were consummate stone fortress builders, are the most obvious candidates for such a population. The historical sources demonstrate they would have arrived in the Himalayan highlands during the mid-1350s. Initially, the Shar Dung would have been outsiders bereft of resources or territory, and most probably still lacking marriage alliances with local populations. The migrants would have required several generations, attended by possible conflicts and likely intermarriages, to establish permanent colonies at the best available sites. The earliest traces of established Himalayan Dung settlements in the region occur in historical texts reporting travellers’ accounts dating from the late 1400s and early 1500s. This is the same period we would expect for their settlements to feature as recognised sites in travel accounts, and one matching the aforementioned radiometric dates. Summarising from my discussion in chapter 16, we know these historical texts cite the place or territorial names Dung-rang and Dung-rang Lung-pa localised in the north-east corner of Bhutan. We also know these names were based upon the thirteenth- and fourteenth century name Dung-reng(s) (cf. CT rang[s] po ~ reng[s] po) that contemporary Tibetan historians used to designate the Shar Dung and their affiliates. Related to this name complex, we find Padma Gling-pa describing his visit during the year 1507 to a local ruler (rgyal po) ‘at the place called Dung ’Di-rang’69 somewhere in the central Mon-yul Corridor valley when he passed through there. The name Dung ’Di-rang immediately recalls the contemporary Dung-rang names used for areas further north during the same era. According

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to the detailed treatment of all the evidence in chapter 16, we can be almost certain those areas were sites of historical Shar Dung resettlement. It should be seriously considered that the unusual dir- element in modern spoken Ngodir and Dirkhi names is derived or abbreviated from the old Dung ’Di-rang name for an early Dung settlement. We are still far from explaining the origins of the Thempang Bapu, that are without doubt far more complicated, and some of what was discussed will remain speculative. Nevertheless, all the above traces and indicators unanimously relate an old core of Bapu clan identities to a known set of regional descent groups and communities further to the north and north-west – and not in any other directions – who also practice within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and who all share many other things in common with the Bapu as well. These connections and commonalities are only accentuated by the study of the Bapu Lhasöshe festival at Thempang to follow.

○○ Distribution of tshogs to ritual specialists. Day Two ○○ Distribution of tshogs to changnyerpa and village households. ○○ Preparation of tsheshomba flags. ○○ Tsheshomba procession to Rizang Thangka festival ground. ○○ Offerings to ata Jowodi. ○○ Communal feast. ○○ Reverse procession of tsheshomba to village. Day Three ○○ Mock marriage of zi ‘wives’ to tsangmi ‘husbands’. ○○ Tsheshomba procession to Rizang Thangka festival ground. ○○ Farewell rites for deities. ○○ Communal feast with Bapu hosted by their Gila. ○○ Procession of ritual specialists to lama’s house and ritual disassembly of costumes. ○○ Tug-of-war between zi ‘wives’ and tsangmi ‘husbands’.

11.3 The Bapu Lhasöshe Festival of 2011 The Thempang Bapu Lhasöshe is staged once every six years. The 2011 festival had a four-day duration. It commenced on the seventeenth day of the twelfth lunar month (= 20 February) of the Tibetan calendar used in Dirang district and was completed by evening on the twentieth day (= 23 February). In addition, the sixteenth day (= 19 February) was reserved for intensive preparations of offerings by each hereditary worship unit, as well as purification and a dress rehearsal by the leading ritual performers. The chronological schedule of main festival days was as follows: Day One ○○ Tang offerings at village lhabum. ○○ Tsheshomba procession to the Lhasö’i sa festival ground. ○○ Seeking and borrowing the ritual site. ○○ Arrangement of altars and offerings to deities. ○○ Presenting the offerings. ○○ Communal feast. ○○ Reverse procession of tsheshomba to village. ○○ Blessing of tsheshomba households by ritual specialists.

Day Four ○○ Apology ceremony in each lhabrang for any ritual errors. ○○ Mutual hosting and feasting among Bapu households. ○○ Mihuwen fire protection rites by Khamsong prahme in Thempang houses. Due to the complexity and duration of the festival, I will devote nearly all my ethnographic description here to the rites of Day One. These most closely represent the Srid-pa’i lha cult and follow the rabs in the local manuscript. I will supplement this with selected elaborations of related rites staged during Days Two-Four.

Festival Name Nowadays, Thempangpa refer to the festival as Bapu Lhasöshe. The meaning and linguistic derivation of this name were explained above. The name is purely colloquial, and not found in any written local documents.

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î Plate 142. La-chong upon his white-faced mithun mount, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, Thempang, West Kameng, 2010.70

Outsiders from other parts of Dirang identify the festival as an instance of ‘Bon’, and although Thempangpa know this identity they do not use it in discourse among themselves. There is evidence in the Thempang rabs manuscript that the Bapu Lhasöshe was once simply named after the main invocations chanted to the lha throughout the rites. This is strongly suggested in the opening lines of some chants. For example, we read ‘At the time of O ha’i, on today’s date…’ (O ha’i dus de ring gi nyi ma la / ) or ‘As for the present O ha’i, the Earth Narrative of the site is explained…’ (O ha’i da ni sa yi sa rabs bshad /), and ‘When we went for today’s Aa haa’i, the door was made of tin. Now when we return, the door is made of silver’ (Aa haa’i da sang ’gro ba’i dus rdo lo’i sgo // da yong ba’i dus su g.yu yi sgo /). This pattern of a key invocation chant used as the name fits with traditional naming practices for other Srid-pa’i lha festivals, such as the Aheylha of Changmadung in Bhutan described in the previous chapter.

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A second, older name for the festival, albeit rarely used nowadays at Thempang, except among elderly people, is Chisöshe or Chisöwen. The word chis is considered an equivalent to lha, thus both forms are simply an analogue of the contemporary name Lhasöshe and mean ‘propitiation of the chis’. We also find the terms Chisöshe/Chisöwen applied to Srid-pa’i lha rites and chis to deities at Dirang Busti, Yewang and in the Sangti valley. Like the regional use of lha for Srid-pa’i lha, chis is only applied to major ancestral deities, and its occurrence in the Dirang district culture of Srid-pa’i lha worship was described in chapter 3 as an artefact of an older term for ancestral deities found in other Tibeto-Burman languages in distant locations. As I will demonstrate comparatively in chapter 17, it is one of various linguistic clues for understanding cultural history and possibly also ethnic origins in the region. When chis is written phyi in local ritual texts, the word also has a specific interpretation among some informants that I will discuss below in relation to the deities themselves.

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Organisation of Bapu Lhasöshe The Bapu Lhasöshe festival has developed over time as a ritual ensemble amalgamating three different aspects. It features worship of the Srid-pa’i lha for revitalisation combined with an old bon ‘ransom’ (glud) rite, a few apotropaic rites involving local place deities, as well as rites and performances for the reification of clan identities and social relations. This ritual complexity is matched by an equally sophisticated organisation of human and non-human beings informing participation in the festival. This is based upon the membership, ranking and internal composition of the Bapu clans, as well as the types of deities addressed, and it determines assignment of most of the specialist ritual roles and the classification of participant groups of worshippers.

Deities The primary Srid-pa’i lha deities worshipped for life powers are lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal and his consort Aa’i Gung-rgyal lHa-mo.71 They are believed to dwell in and descend from the sky, and are exclusively addressed by the Bapu clans. They have the title lha chen in the rabs chants. The written term of address for Gung-rgyal lHa-mo is pronounced ai or ayi. As we would expect for a Srid-pa’i lha deity, this is not a local Tshangla term. Rather, it is a standard East Bodish kinship designation meaning ‘grandmother’, and one which is in use with minor variations across the Dakpa (ai), Dzala (ayi) and Kurtöp (aiya) speaking regions to the north from where the Lhasöshe rites, and the Bapu ancestors and clans themselves, originated. In fact, most of the clans whose ancestors migrated into Dirang from the north use Dakpa titles of their ancestral deities. For example, the Bapu clans of Dirang Busti and Yewang address their male ancestral deities as achi, the Dakpa term for ‘elder brother’. Similarly, when no explicit Dakpa kin term is used, Tshangla terms are avoided. For example, phu La-chong, the ancestral deity of the Thempang Bapu who will be discussed next, is never addressed using the Tshangla kin term ata or ‘grandfather’, although ata is a very common title for other village deities in parts of Dirang.

La-chong is a male being who is the common clan ancestral deity of the four related Bapu tshan, and exclusively worshipped by them. The deity is now identified with a high hill ridge due east of Thempang, and directly across the valley from the festival ground at which the main day of rites for Lhasöshe is staged. The examples of Bapu origin narratives reported above state that La-chong was their skyes lha or ‘natal deity’ back at their origin place within the Yar-lung region of southern Tibet. There his status was as a ‘lowland’ (mda’) being, subordinate to the mountain deity Yar-lha Sham-po. The clan ancestors brought La-chong with them when migrating southwards. There is evidence indicating these Bapu claims of origins should be given serious consideration. The homophonic name La-chung can be identified in the ’Phyong-po district of Yar-lung. Guntram Hazod, a leading authority on Tibetan clans and the Yar-lung region, informed me there is a La-chung in the Grang-mo area behind dPal-ri in the ’Phyong-po district of Yar-lung, and that it lies at the southern, and thus upland, end of this Grang-mo area.72 As discussed in chapter 4, there is a parallel case related to the origins of the ancestral Srid-pa’i lha goddess of worship communities in the Kurtö region. She is named both Grang-bya-mo and Grang-mo, and the itinerary of Kurtö verbal ritual journeys in Srid-pa’i lha cult rites leads due north up into the landscape just south of Yar-lung. It is rather common in Tibetan migration histories that ancestral place names become deity names that move, and Himalayan La-chong and Grang-bya-mo appear to be good examples of this. Further evidence of this process involving La-chong is found in the Thempang rabs manuscript. There is a painted representation of the deity on one of the first folios in the manuscript (pl. 142). La-chong rides upon a white-faced bovine animal as his mount, and in a section below, I will discuss the close symbolic relationship this animal has with Yar-lha Sham-po and the Yar-lung region. The other evidence is found in the content of the Thempang rabs narratives themselves. One key feature of origin myths in all Srid-pa’i lha worship communities is the claim their ancestral deities are lha who descend from the sky. This is equally the case for La-chong. The Thempang rabs manuscript used for Bapu Lhasöshe contains a Sho rabs or Narrative of the Dice Game that is

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chanted during the festival (fig. 17, no. 14). This Sho rabs is in fact a local redaction of a part of a widespread Srid-pa’i lha cult narrative known as the Lha rgyud or Lha rabs expounding the genealogy of Srid-pa’i lha or Phywa. It is related to the Srid pa’i lha rabs mched bzhi narrative that occurs within a myth complex associated with earlier Tibetan accounts of the progenitor emperor which are first known from redactions recorded in southernmost Tibet. In those earlier myths, the four Srid-pa’i lha brothers, namely Yab-lha bDaldrug, Phywa-lha Bram-chen, rGya-lha ’Brong-nam and ’O-de Gung-rgyal, play a game of dice to see who among them must descend to earth as the lha of human beings, and who will go elsewhere to serve as the lha to be worshipped and to protect other realms and beings. In the Thempang Sho rabs, the original Tibetan names of the first three lha brothers are still recognisable in their local written forms, whereas the ancestral deity La-chong is simply interpolated into the story and assimilated to the role of the fourth brother ’O-de Gung-rgyal, whose lowest dice score means he must descend to earth: [24a...] The four brothers who were sons of the lha played

dice. They produced dice of white conch [to use]. Was a mat [upon which to play] necessary or not? They were playing dice in the midst of the sky. [Thus] for that dice game, a mat was necessary. They spread out some divine cloth73 below. [24b] On top of that, they spread out some white silk. [Upon that] they drew [the shape of] a swastika with white barley grains.74 With the barley spread out so fine and pleasing, They played dice on top of it. In an archery contest one shoots from the left. In a dice game one throws from the right. The throw of three sixes yielded eighteen. lHa-rgyal Bram-ze’s dice score was high. Although his dice score was high, he had no need to rejoice. Being given, he was the lha who was given to Tibet (Bod). Protecting, he was the lha who protected Tibet. He had got a high dice score. […]

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The throw of three fives yielded fifteen. lHa-rgyal Don-grub’s dice score was high. Although his dice score was high, he had no need to rejoice. Being given, he was the lha who was given to the rGya. Protecting, he was the lha who protected the rGya. He got a high dice score. […] The throw of three fours yielded twelve. lHa-rgyal ’Brong-gnam’s dice score was high. Although his dice score was high, he had no need to rejoice. Being given, he was the lha who was given to the Kun. Protecting, he was the lha who protected the Kun. He got a high dice score. […] [25b] The throw of three threes yielded nine. Phu bzang La-chong’s dice score was low. Although his dice score was low, he had no need to worry. It is said he descended [from the sky] on a white-faced mithun bull. [As a result,] to the right, those who were unhappy had happiness. To the left, those who were unhappy had happiness. Those who were unsatisfied had satisfaction. Those who were out of breath75 had breath to draw.76 [25a]

Thus, in the local redaction of the Sho rabs, La-chong takes the older mythical position occupied by ’O-de Gung-rgyal in Classical Tibetan versions of the Srid pa’i lha rabs mched bzhi narrative. The substitution allows for La-chong to become the lha who descends to the local world to foster and improve human lives, and it explains why ’O-de Gungrgyal is always invoked in the Thempang rabs immediately before La-chong. Additionally, the ‘resettled’ La-chong at Thempang is now popularly titled as a phu (or phu bzang) ‘highland’ deity. The term phu applied to deities is very widespread throughout the written and spoken ritual language of Srid-pa’i lha worship from Kurtö in Bhutan to the west over to the upper and central Mon-yul Corridor in the east. This use of phu maps almost exactly upon the spread of cult communities speaking the East Bodish languages Kurtöp, Dzala and Dakpa, as

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well as the southern extent of the Dakpa speakers’ historical influence. This originally very old Tibetan topographical referent can cover hill, mountain, ridge, col and pass areas, as well as the high slopes of valley headwaters, and when applied to deities is not simply a designation for “mountain god” as some commentators mistakenly claim. Based upon an ancient Tibetan principle of topographical symmetry, La-chong is paired with an unimportant and subordinate ‘lowland’ or valley floor (mda’) deity named La’i nang who acts as his ‘bodyguard’. This deity pair were described by some informants at Thempang and related sites with the respective epithets phyi drag po and g.yang drag po. Since the written phyi (sometimes spyi) is pronounced chis, a local equivalent for lha, the first epithet means ‘powerful chis’ and the second ‘powerful g.yang’. Phyi/spyi and g.yang here are paired opposites as typically occur in various Tibeto-Burman languages and are multivalent. Understood spatially, they appear to be a gloss on the familiar phu/mda’ or ‘highland/lowland’ and ‘hill/valley’ pairing found throughout the Tibetosphere, since phyi means that which is ‘outward’ or ‘external’ (i.e., wide open space), and g.yang that which is ‘narrow’ or ‘confined’ and in Classical Tibetan the word commonly means ‘chasm’ or ‘abyss’ as a topographical referent. In terms of ranking, the pair is respectively understood to mean ‘that which is above all else’ (especially written spyi) and ‘that which is below’. The distinction is important for worship in the area, since it is only ancestral deities classified as chis who are included within the framework of major rites used for the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Thempang also has a local male place spirit named lDum-ri (pl. 265) who is assigned to the btsan class. He is titled phu because he dwells higher above the settlement area and is also paired with a mda’ deity named Sha-phur. Since lDumri is regarded as a local ‘resident’ of the place who may possibly create complications and negative outcomes if ritually ignored, it is regarded that he must be addressed. Finally, there is ata or ‘grandfather’ (in Dirang Tshangla) Jowodi, a purely autochthonous deity. According to local interpretations, he was originally the elder brother in the mythical sibling pair Cha Cha and Nye who fell from the sky to earth at Thempang before anyone settled there. The

Tshangla ata title appears to be a later addition. In concert with the respectful kin terms from more northerly languages used to address all ancestral beings within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the word jo bo pronounced jowo is actually a common Tibetan address meaning ‘elder brother’ (cf. Dakpa achi) preceding a proper name, which in this case is Di. That name recalls Dung ’Di-rang which is the oldest (1507) historical settlement name recorded for the central Mon-yul Corrdor, and Di may recall an ancient cultural identity from this area. Jowodi must be addressed since his presence is reckoned as being at the very origins of the local cultural pattern of worshipping sky ancestral deities preserved in Bapu Lhasöshe. These different deity types significant for the Bapu clans clearly reflect Thempang’s complex history of migration, settlement and assimilation, and the social and cultural heterogeny that history encapsulates. However, the autochthon Jowodi is considered so different from the other beings in terms of local classifications that he must actually be worshipped parallel to the other three deities by a completely different type of ritual specialist from outside the community.77

Master of Ceremonies All communities in Dirang Circle with closely related Sridpa’i lha festivals still maintain lineages of hereditary bon shamans who are locally termed bon po, although such a role did not exist for Lhasöshe at Thempang during the time of my research. The main person, who leads all rites by chanting rabs texts from the manuscript at the appropriate time and place, and thus functions as a kind of ‘master of ceremonies’, has no specific designation. A new incumbent is chosen to temporarily serve in the role for each Lhasöshe celebration. Thempang was the only site among all the Srid-pa’i lha worship communities throughout the research region that I surveyed at which this arrangement was in place. During staging of the festival in 2011, the incumbent was generally called ‘lama’ for reasons I will outline below, and I will adopt this term in my description here.

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The master of ceremonies figure, always a senior male, must be temporarily chosen from one or other of the so-called ‘life basket’ (tsheshomba) groups within the four Bapu clans. The tsheshomba are agnatic units forming the ceremonial groups for Lhasöshe, which will be detailed below. A dice divination (sho mo) is used to select a candidate from among the tsheshomba every five years before a Lhasöshe is to be staged in the sixth year. There is an informal tradition that a layman who already has the status of a hereditary village ritual specialist should best undertake the master of ceremonies role. Such persons are generally known as dung lama or ‘village lama’. They are farmers who are married with families, but who perform divinations, astrological readings and other mundane rites related to life-cycle events and illness or affliction, within a framework which represents a blend of non-sectarian Buddhist-influences and the cults of local territorial and environmental deities. They are considered appropriate because they can read ritual texts in Tibetan script, and thus can chant the rabs properly from the Lhasöshe manuscript, as well as being generally experienced and confident in conducting rites of various kinds for the public. As masters of ceremonies, they represent a pragmatic choice by the community. The master of ceremonies role is said to be exclusive to Bapu clans. Yet, the person chosen for the 2011 Lhasöshe was a hereditary, married village lama from a single nonBapu household that had been historically invited to Thempang to serve as officiants for the now defunct village temple. This patrilineage was considered to have a status equal to Bapu clans and thus fit for intermarriage with them. Clan status is not the only restriction on the role. While all Thempangpa are at the very least nominally Buddhist, no person who has taken Buddhist monastic vows as a monk, or who is a reincarnate lama, may serve as the master of ceremonies. The role is for laypersons. Once appointed, the incumbent must observe all the dietary taboos on pork, eggs, garlic and onions typical of hereditary bon shamans, and do so for a long period in advance of the actual festival. These taboos are remarkably similar to the dietary rules that Bapu clan members are themselves traditionally meant to observe – although nowadays very few, mainly older, clan members actually follow them

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strictly. The incumbent must also avoid pollution associated with birth and death.

Male and Female Bro Performers The most important ritual actors during Lhasöshe are a group of men and women titled bro pa (‘male bro performer’) and bro mo (‘female bro performer’). They must wear special costumes and are the equivalent of performers commonly referred to by the same or similar terms, or designated as lha’i bu when male, at many other sites of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. These titles are somewhat interchangeable in any case, since bro pa are explicitly mentioned as lha’i bu in the Thempang rabs manuscript. At Thempang, in the absence of a permanent hereditary bon po, it is only the bro pa and bro mo and no others who may offer directly to the ancestral lha. Since their headgear is associated with auxiliary deities, they must be understood as sub-shamans and thus their roles are hereditary. During rites, the male bro pa actively performed the bro movements and chant, while the bro mo more often remained still and simply present alongside them. The exception is during circumambulation of altars and offering places, when the bro mo participate as well. Each Bapu clan has specific obligations to provide bro pa and bro mo from among its members: one bro pa and bro mo each must come from Khochilu; two bro pa and one bro mo from Sharchokpa; one bro pa and bro mo each from Dirkhipa. Atajipu does not contribute any. The high status Khochilu clan has the obligation to act as the host for food and lodging of all bro pa and bro mo and the lama specialist throughout the entire Lhasöshe. They make available the house of a leading Khochilu patriline within the old village of Thempang expressly for this purpose. This domicile is then referred to as the lama lhabrang during Lhasöshe. The bro pa and bro mo and the lama must communally eat all meals and sleep there each night, and do not return to their own homes until the festival is completed. This is partly due to purity concerns, for these performers must not contact any pollution related to birth and death or proscribed foodstuffs and the kitchens used to prepare them.

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

As mentioned, the bro pa and bro mo hold the highest ritual status in a Lhasöshe. This is made clear in the descriptive part of the title of the Lhasöshe rabs manuscript, which reads Narrative of the Bro [Performance] of Bro pa who are lHa’i bu (Lha’i bu’i bro pa’i bro rabs).78 Due to their status as a type of sub-shaman, the bro pa and bro mo are subject to the same ritual restrictions as hereditary bon po and must also maintain these restrictions for life, even if they forfeit the role at some future point. They may never consume onion and garlic, nor pork, goat and chicken meat. Additionally, a bro mo must step down from her role once she marries (or upon having her first sexual relations), although bro pa can actively remain in their roles as married men. As mentioned, selection of bro pa and bro mo is according to clan membership. When a new incumbent must be chosen, both divination and social consensus can play a role, and the notion that the clan ancestral deity must ultimately confirm any selection is common. Following the previous Lhasöshe at Thempang in the winter of 2005-2006, the head or ‘elder bro pa’ (bro pa chilu) passed away, and the appointment of a new incumbent was necessary just prior to the 2011 Lhasöshe. Since the head bro pa position is hereditary, the tsheshomba or ‘life basket’ ceremonial group of the deceased incumbent then had the obligation to supply a pre-pubescent boy to replace him. The young boy chosen was the nephew of the deceased head bro pa (his younger brother’s son). Initially, the boy’s mother strongly rejected the decision because she did not want her son to be burdened with the life-long dietary taboos that attend the role. Soon afterwards, the boy reported being visited in his dreams by the clan deity La-chong, who appeared at the door and led him outside of the house several times during his sleep. When he was found on one occasion wandering around dazed during the night, this ‘sign’ manifesting in his dreams was accepted and his mother relented. Her son became the new head bro pa just prior to the 2011 Lhasöshe.

Ritual Assistants The lama is usually assisted in his ritual activities by six tsangmi or ritual assistants. This unwritten term at Thempang probably literally means ‘purifying person’ (gtsang mi)

from the Classical Tibetan verb gtsang ba, and that spelling is found in many bon shaman manuscripts at other sites to designate the same type of role. Thempangpa interpret the term rgya lu in the Thempang rabs manuscript as a local, honorific synonym for tsangmi, and this appears to be contextually justified. The Classical Tibetan word rgya lu can mean ‘prince’ (rgyal po’i sras) and is also the name given to a certain type of character in the A-lce lHa-mo dramas which were once frequently performed throughout the Mon-yul Corridor. Thempangpa say it refers to the type of round hat which tsangmi wear during Lhasöshe (pl. 145). The tsangmi are responsible for brewing all the ritual beer to be offered to the deities, as well as tending to the ransom animals that will be offered, and lighting incense fires. They can address offerings to local place deities (lDum-ri and Sha-phur, and tang spirits). Their leader, the tsangmi chilu or ‘elder tsangmi’, is a hereditary position from a household within Atajipu clan. The five other tsangmi under him are drawn from different Bapu clans. All tsangmi must be hosted to food and lodging for the entire festival in an Atajipu lineage house within the old village, which then becomes their lhabrang. However, in 2011, the Atajipu clan decided to boycott all such public participation79 in the Lhasöshe due to an older and unresolved inter-clan dispute with a complex background related to other clan ritual obligations and roles. Thus, the Atajipu tsangmi chilu withdrew, while the house for the traditional tsangmi lhabrang remained locked in protest. The remaining five junior tsangmi from the other clans had to be hosted instead together with the changnyerpa (see below) in another house within the Bapu area of the old village that functioned as a community centre.

External Specialist Because none of the specialist roles cited above can ritually address the low-ranked autochthon Jowodi, a second type of specialist from outside the community must be inducted into the Lhasöshe for this purpose. This person is a prahme ritual specialist always drawn from the Sartang village of Khoina to the south. Since the Thempangpa traditionally call the Khoina people Kham songa, the ‘Kham men’, their ritual specialist is known as the Khamsong prahme. They

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are generally regarded by the Thempangpa as the best specialists to control the force known as tang which is perceived in the village as negative and associated with ‘bad luck’ (see below).80 Since the Bapu clans regard Khamsong prahme and their assistants as having a low social and ritual status, they can only be hosted and eat food within the Gila clan households at Thempang for the duration of the festival. In payment for their services, the Khamsong prahme of Khoina receives a share of tshog from each Bapu patrilineage household, plus one live sheep from the whole Bapu community.

Festival Stewards A set of eight so-called ‘beer stewards’ or changnyerpa (CT chang gnyer pa) discharge a range of supporting roles during the festival, but primarily that of maintaining both public and ritual order. Each Bapu clan and Gila pseudo-clan must provide one changnyerpa, and the positions are lifelong. One among them will be elected as head, being identified by tying a pair of white felicitation scarves diagonally across each shoulder so that they cross over at the middle of his chest and back. The head changnyerpa leads a quartet of ‘marshals’ including the lama, tsangmi chilu and zi apa (see below). They are invested with the power to impose fines upon anyone (including each other) who becomes a public nuisance due to excess drunkenness, fighting, and so forth, or who commits ritual breaches or makes mistakes thought to jeopardise the effectiveness of the Lhasöshe. The head changnyerpa is supposed to be the most vigilant and active in this respect. Normally, the eight changnyerpa are hosted by the Atajipu clan, but due to the latter’s boycott of Lhasöshe during 2011 this could not occur. Instead, they joined the five junior tsangmi for food and lodging at the community house in the old village, and where a member of a Gila clan with the title bungkhenpa acted as their servant.

Ritual ‘Wives/Sisters’ Four young, non-sexually active teenage girls constitute a group of performers known as the zi. They are ritually married with ‘husbands’ on the third day of Lhasöshe in a mock

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wedding ceremony. The zi girls are appointed to the role for one Lhasöshe only, and new candidates must be sought each time the festival is staged. The head changnyerpa has exclusive power to select them, and he must choose one suitable zi from each of the four Bapu clans during the first day of the festival. Once chosen, the zi are then placed in the care of a senior man from the Sharchokpa clan who has the fictive kin title zi apa or ‘father of the zi’. The zi apa is a hereditary position held by a specific patriline within the Sharchokpa clan and passes ideally from father to son. This man is identified by tying a felicitation scarf diagonally over each of his shoulders, so that they cross in the middle of his chest and back. The four girls and their ‘father’ must then sleep and be hosted for meals together for the remainder of the festival within a house in the old village belonging to a Sharchokpa clan family, which is then called the zi apa lhabrang. While serving as zi, the girls and their zi apa must observe the food restrictions for ritual specialists and consume no onion and garlic, nor any pork, goat and chicken meat, to which is also added an additional restriction on consumption of any butter and cheese. The term zi is a somewhat ambivalent Dirang Tshangla kin term. It can mean ‘younger sister’ when used by a male Ego to refer to his junior, consanguine female siblings, but it can also be used for ‘wife’, and this ambivalence appears to be related to the same pattern evident in Dakpa.81 This basic ambivalence is central to the ritual and social significance of zi during Lhasöshe. The zi role at Thempang is related to the wider regional pattern discussed in chapters 2 and 8 of human females ritually married to clan ancestral lha as a means of symbolically placing the deities in a position of obligation as wife-takers. The wife-givers are technically always the ‘elder brothers’ of zi females, since they are the senior males in agnatic tsheshomba units, while the female component of any such unit comprises the consanguine female siblings of these males since only these men and women share ‘bone’ from the same male ancestors. As with the ambivalent ‘younger sister’ and ‘wife’ meanings for zi that find a strong echo in Dakpa kin terminology, we also find Dakpa origin myths featuring the first sky-descended ancestors who start the world, and who are referred to as the ‘elder brother’ (written A lce, spoken achi) named Khu-po,

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

and the ‘younger sister’ (written zhogs mo, spoken zhomu) named Khu-mo.82 These are typical of many connections and traces that lead back from Lhasöshe to a Dakpa socialhistorical environment. As will be shown below, the logic of the marriage exchange involving zi was somewhat reinterpreted in terms of Bapu clan mythology within Lhasöshe festivals when I recorded them, but in a manner which the ambivalence of zi between both ‘younger sister’ and ‘wife’ was highly apparent. During the Lhasöshe of 2011 documented here, the Atajipu clan withdrew from participation due to the on-going community dispute, and thus one zi girl was lost from the normal total of four who should have participated. Additionally, the girl selected from the Sharchokpa clan was due to take a major school examination on the day after Lhasöshe ended, so she asked to be excused from the role to be able to study. After much debate, this was finally permitted.83 Thus, exceptionally during the 2011 Lhasöshe there were only two zi performers present for all the rites they are normally directly involved in.

‘Life Basket’ Ceremonial Groups All the Bapu clan members who participate as both sponsors and worshippers during Lhasöshe form separate, individually named ceremonial groups termed tsheshomba. A tsheshomba represents all those who share identical khang or ‘bone’ in a common agnatic line, and they therefore constitute sub-groups within a tshan. Each tsheshomba normally consists of a set of brothers, their consanguine sisters, and the brothers’ male offspring. They can be intergenerational, depending upon surviving members of a tsheshomba at any given point in time. The named identity of most tsheshomba was that of the eldest living male or brother in the sibling group or generation (see below). Spoken tsheshomba is written tshe zhong ba in Tibetan script and literally means ‘the life [tshe] basket’, with tshe referring more specifically to patrilineal fertility and its resulting ‘bone’ transmission. Shomba/ zhong ba describes the large, back-carried, woven cane baskets into which all the requisite offerings for the Srid-pa’i lha and clan ancestral deities must be placed to be carried to and

offered at the festival ground when each tsheshomba requests tshe and g.yang life powers from the lha. Thus, both the ritual object and the descent unit so-named are the ‘container of life’, as it were. Like many of the specialist ritual terms used in Lhasöshe, tsheshomba comes directly from East Bodish languages spoken to the north rather than the Tshangla now spoken in the village. The spoken shom or shomba is a unique Dakpa term for ‘basket’ with no cognates in the local Tshangla dialect.84 I will explain further ritual aspects of the tsheshomba as a material object below. For now, we can note particularly that variations on the ritual use of a cane basket to collectively hold and protect the individual ‘souls’, or ‘life gods’ and vital force of a descent unit or household are also found among certain other highland peoples speaking Tibeto-Burman languages throughout the extended eastern Himalayas. Since this feature is of comparative importance, I will return to its significance in chapter 17. When elder informants explained tsheshomba at Thempang, they used the ideal constellation of there being three such groups within each of the four tshan or ‘clans’, making a total of twelve. Exactly why this was so remained unexplained. However, since tsheshomba were also the basis for calculating taxes paid by each clan to the premodern Tibetan administration prior to the 1950s under the system called krekhang (CT khral khang), 85 this ideal, evenly distributed number of three per clan is probably an artefact of the old system for administering tax extraction. At the time of the 2011 Lhasöshe festival, the named tsheshomba were unevenly distributed between the tshan according to the following list: Khochilu tsheshomba: 1. Leyzhing Lama Guru 2. Ata Zala (Lekyi Tsering) 3. Nyim Gyelbo 4. Lhabrang (Dawa Norbu) Sharchokpa tsheshomba: 1. Tseten Gyurme shui (tödsong) 2. Tseten Gyurme’s brothers (tödsong) 3. Pasang (bar) 4. Norzang (prangsong) 5. Au Za shui (prangsong)

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Atajipu tsheshomba: 1. Trinley (tödsong) 2. Phurpa (bar) 3. Konchok (prangsong) Dirkhipa tsheshomba: 1. Lama Wang 2. Birshejan Some tsheshomba names in the list are marked by two additional references. These are significant for Lhasöshe organisation, and in part, they explain the deviations from an ideal or former twelve-tsheshomba scheme. The titles tödsong (‘upper’), bar (‘middle’) and prangsong (‘lower’) each derive from the spatial position of residence within the old, walled village of Thempang (fig. 16). The additional marker shui next to several names signals a tsheshomba which has effectively ‘migrated’ from one clan to another by way of a male heir marrying into a son-less tsheshomba household of another clan in an uxorilocal (makpa) alliance, temporarily creating a somewhat ambiguous status.86 Like shomba, the term shui is a word found in several East Bodish languages (e.g., Dakpa, Kurtöp) and refers to the plaited cane ‘head strap’ used to carry the cane shomba ‘basket’. It is thus conceptually apt for the role and circumstance it defines, in which the makpa husband bears responsibility for his wife’s household’s tsheshomba.87 Each tsheshomba uses a specific house within the village as its base during Bapu Lhasöshe. These are old houses passed hereditarily through a tsheshomba line and represent a sort of ideal, original ‘household’ for the wider, ceremonial agnatic unit whose actual residence at any given time may be rather scattered. These host houses are referred to as tsheshomba lhabrang. An additional tsheshomba, which is formed only during each Bapu Lhasöshe, is named Lhabrang, and in the list above it appears as number 4 within the Khochilu clan. It represents the lama lhabrang host household for the ‘master of ceremonies’ or lama plus bro pa and bro mo specialists whose food and lodging are the responsibility of that one Khochilu household during Lhasöshe. This temporary tsheshomba has its own tshe basket with all the requisite offerings, and its own special seating place to the side of the main altar during Lhasöshe (fig.

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19). One reason for forming this Lhabrang tsheshomba is that lama, bro pa and bro mo performers have been ritually removed from their own tsheshomba-s to perform the main rites. They cannot thus be disadvantaged in terms of meeting their ritual obligations to the deities due to absence for their roles. Also, exceptionally during 2011, the lama incumbent was not from one of the Bapu tsheshomba – albeit from a clan regarded equal in status – and thus could not simply join one of the Bapu groups. The first and main day of worship in Lhasöshe features a long procession to carry the tsheshomba baskets of offerings from old Thempang village down the hill to the festival ground at the sacred grove to the east, and then the creation of elaborate altars behind which each tshan and their individual tsheshomba sub-lineages are seated in order. The ranking order of this procession and the order of altar seating are both determined by the above list of clans, led by Khochilu, and the tsheshomba within each clan. The return procession by all clans and their tsheshomba back up to Thempang at day’s end proceeds in the exact reverse of the initial downward order. Because the Lhabrang tsheshomba is a temporary arrangement, and contained a non-Bapu member during 2011, it was positioned off to one side of the ranked altar and seating arrangement (fig. 19). Moreover, during 2011, when the initial tsheshomba procession descended to the sacred grove, the wife of the non-Bapu lama followed alone at the very end of the procession (pl. 150) since she had no formal place within the procession’s set ranking.

Gila Participation The final group to participate in Lhasöshe do so solely to provide their labour service. These are the Gila pseudo-clans attached to each Bapu clan. When the Bapu tsheshomba must each transport their large baskets full of offering and altar materials from old Thempang village down to the festival ground in procession, they recruit their respective Gila to carry their baskets. They also provide food for a feast for their respective Bapu tshan on one of the festival days. This service by the Gila is reciprocated several months later when the Gila have their own festival, and their Bapu partners

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

will perform a range of minor ritual duties and feast them in turn.88 The Gila performing labour service for the Bapu during the festival is also related to a prohibition placed upon all types of productive work by tsheshomba members on the main days of Lhasöshe. This prohibition exists for all Sridpa’i lha festivals across the research region.

Ritual Texts As is the case for nearly all Srid-pa’i lha worship anywhere, the staging order of the major rites during Lhasöshe is based upon the sequence of rabs and secondary texts recorded in the ritual manuscript and chanted aloud by the main specialist. Although the Lhasöshe festival is a combination of Srid-pa’i lha worship, a ransom (glud) rite, and clan identity celebrations, the final part of this triune agenda is not represented in any of the written ritual narratives or instructions in the manuscript. The full title of the manuscript itself reads Contained herein: “A Clearly Composed Satiation for the Ears and Feast for the Eyes,” being a Ritual Antecedent Narrative of the Bro [Performance] of Bro pa who are Lha’i bu, as told by the sTon pa gShen-rab (see Thempang 1 in References). This title accurately represents the contents of the final two thirds of the volume that mainly concern the chants and actions performed by the bro pa (and bro mo) specialists who are categorised as lha’i bu in the text. Another version of this text with the same title is also in use for Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged within the upper Sangti valley (see Sangti 1 in References), although it contains certain variations. A cow in the Sangti valley replaces the mithun used as the major glud or ransom animal at Thempang, while the ritual journey to search for this ransom cow recorded in the Sangti manuscript has a different itinerary. This variation between the same rabs from neighbouring sites is typical of the generation of variety inherent in the culture of text-reading shamans within the cult. The common rabs texts between Thempang and the Sangti valley communities represent an older trace of the spread of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in this area, and one which is emphasised in local oral histories. These state that originally the lineage came to the Dirang communities from the Lhau bon po in Tawang, who earlier served certain Dakpa speaking migrant settlers in Dirang as their ritual specialists. At one

time, these bon po would cross the Ze La pass from Tawang and descend to the southern communities in Dirang to conduct their festivals, although local bon po lineages bound to these migrant patrilineages and clans did develop once they became well established. While we cannot confirm this claimed history, telling evidence in its favour is the ritual language used in the Thempang rabs manuscript. The text is composed in Classical Tibetan laced with Dakpa vocabulary and grammatical features which in no way reflect the current Tshangla speaking milieu of Thempang.89 Additionally, certain redactions of the Rgyal rigs detail the pre-seventeenth century migration of Dakpa speaking lineages and clans from the Tawang region down to Dirang, where some settled as the ruling elite and others as their subjects (see chs. 12, 16). The descendants of these same ancestral lineages are all still identifiable today as clans that are resident in both the Tawang and Dirang districts. In both places, they form the core worship communities of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The very telling ‘negative evidence’ supporting the above local claims is that all the other speakers of Tshangla, Brokpaké, Kho-Bwa languages and Tibetan inhabiting the same areas have no ritual relationship with the Srid-pa’i lha. Although the term rabs is used in the title wording and at a few places to identify chants within the Thempang Bapu Lhasöshe manuscript, the subtitles of individual narrative sections can also be marked by lugs. Some narratives also lack subtitles as such, but are in any case divided one from the next by a short line or two of descriptive instructions for the master of ceremonies to follow written in smaller characters. Most often, each section commences with the same type of invocatory syllables found in many Srid-pa’i lha rites at other sites. At Thempang, these opening invocations include Aa haa’i, O ha’i, Shaa ha’i and variations upon them. Figure 17 offers a systematic overview of the complete chant sequence for the Bapu Lhasöshe following the order of texts in the manuscript, with a gloss on the instruction lines preceding each invocation or, when these are absent, a content description. Of the twenty-eight different rabs and chants listed in figure 17, numbers 1-21 and 23 should be performed on Day One of the festival, while chants numbered 24-25 and 27-28

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no.

text reference

description/translation

1

[no subtitle]

Invocation to lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal.

2

dang po snga lugs de ltar yin /

How it was in the beginning according to ancient custom.

3

srid pa’i chags lugs bshad /

Explaining the manner of creation of phenomenal existence.

4

dang po bkos lugs tshig cig bshed /

Explaining verses on how the order of the world was appointed at first.

5

[no subtitle]

Narrative of the origin of illness.

6

[no subtitle]

Narrative of the ransom rite (glud) for the cure of illness.

7

de nas bro pa rnams thab kha bskor zhing ’di skad do /

Chant concerning signs in dreams while the bro performers circumambulate before the hearth in their lhabrang.

8

de nas phyi la ’thon pa’i lam g.yar ba ni / Shaa ha’i shaa ha’i

Chant for borrowing a path to depart the lhabrang and go outside.

9

de nas lha’i bu rnams phyir thon te nyi ra’i khrod du cham mo // O ha’i O ha’i

Invoking auxiliary deities to come and dwell upon the costumes and accoutrements of the ritual specialists and protect them during the rites.

10

[no subtitle] O ha’i

Summoning lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, phu bzang La-chong, and the five deities of the cardinal directions to the rigs lnga crown to dwell there for protection of the ritual specialists.

11

Sa yi sa rabs

Narrative of appointing areas of the earth as ritual sites.

12

de nas dog sa g.yar ba ni / O ha’i

Chant for borrowing the area of ground for the ritual site from the deities of the phenomenal world.

13

[no subtitle] O ha’i

Call to install the main deities of worship at the chosen area of ground.

14

Sho yi sho rabs

Narrative of the dice game between the four Srid-pa’i lha brothers.

15

[no subtitle]

Eulogising the mos gtang altar, directing lha to the site, and installing the deities at a stone shrine for worship with the mos gtang altar.

16

de nas mos gtang phul ba’i ni /

Offering the mos gtang altar to lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal and phu bzang La-chong and requesting life powers.

17

da ni lha’i bu lus chas phul ba ni ‘di skad do / O ha’i /

Offering the costumes of the ritual specialists as a ransom and requesting life powers in return.

18

de nas bro pa rnams man bu tsar phyin te dbyangs snyan pos bstod tshig ‘di skad do / Shaa ha’i shaa ha’i

Offering of the mithun bull to the lha with a poetic eulogy.

19

de nas lha rnams rang gnas su gshegs gsol bya ba ni / O ha’i /

Dispatching all deities back to their own abodes and requesting life powers and benefits from them.

20

lha mkhar bskor zhing ’di skad do /Aa haa’i Aa haa’i /

Eulogy of the lha’s nine-storied stronghold in the sky and a final request for the life power therein, chanted while ritual specialists circumambulate the stone shrine.

21

lha de nas dog sa gtad pa ni / Aa haa’i /

Chant for returning the borrowed ritual grounds to the deities of the phenomenal world.

22

de nas dog sa nas mar bab te ’gro rings la ’di skad do / Aa haa’i Aa haa’i /

Divination verses of ‘grandmother’ dGung-rgyal lHa-mo, consort of lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal.

23

de nas lha’i bu rnams lha khyim du zhugs khar sgo’i phyi nang du blta’ zhing ‘di skad do / Aa haa’i Aa haa’i /90

Chant while looking into the house door to extoll the life powers that have successfully appeared there following the rites.

24

de nas khyim nang du zhugs / dngos grub blangs ba’i snod pa [xx] ’di skad do / Aa haa’i

Chant of the blessings associated with the receptacle for the costumes in the ritual specialist’s house.

25

da ni bya ru shig tshul ni // Aa haa’i

Chant to accompany the final dismantling of the bya ru on the ritual specialist’s headgear and storage of their costumes in a receptacle.

26

Aa haa’i / A’i gung rgyal lha mo’i mo btab pa //

Divination verses of ‘grandmother’ dGung-rgyal lHa-mo, consort of lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal.

27

[no subtitle] Aa haa’i /

Return of lha’i bu’s costume components to their places of origin.

28

[no subtitle] Aa haa’i / Aa haa’i /

Final metaphorical verses on the importance of the relationship between humans and the bya ru.91

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The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

are performed at the completion of Day Three. When divinations needed to be performed, some of the poetic verses in numbers 22 and 26 were used. While elderly informants had assured me in advance all these texts were chanted during a Bapu Lhasöshe, this was not the case for the 2011 staging of the festival. I observed that the chosen master of ceremonies was intoxicated for much of the time each day. The result was that he often truncated or even omitted chants (e.g., fig. 17, nos. 24, 28), and had to be aided by other village ritual specialists and senior Bapu males to ensure the chanting was properly undertaken at what were considered crucial stages of the rites.

11.4 Setting and Preparations All rites during the 2011 Bapu Lhasöshe were staged in three major arenas (fig. 18). The first was the precinct within the old walled, ridge-top village of Thempang itself. This is the location of all the lhabrang houses in which each group of ritual specialists is hosted, and most of the houses representing the Bapu tsheshomba, as well as a stone lhabum shrine named Tangsö’i sa. The second arena was a dedicated festival ground in a sacred grove several hundred meters walk below the village to the east. This area is named Lhasö’i sa or ‘Site for Propitiating the lHa’. It is a large, level area directly at the boundary between the last village fields and the forest beyond, and here at this boundary surrounded by high, old trees that are not to be cut stands a simple, rectangular stone lhabum92 shrine about two metres in height. Some distance in front of the lhabum, a raised row of f lat stone slabs are set into the ground in a line to form an altar base at the forest’s edge. The placements of the stone slabs of the altar here appear very ancient. Versions of this type of simple, raised stone slab altar can be seen at sacred groves used as festival grounds on the outskirts of various settlements around Dirang district, and at which analogous ancestral rites are still practiced, or are known to have been performed during the past. Most of the rites of Day One were conducted here directly on these altar stones or immediately behind

7 Figure 17. Main ritual texts for Lhasöshe festivals at Thempang.

them, and at the lhabum. As we will see below, the location of Lhasö’i sa reflects precisely the origin myth of the Bapu Lhasöshe, in which the crucial glud ransom animal, a mithun bull, is found ‘at the boundary between forest and meadow’ (nags dang spang gi mtshams), which itself is something of a ‘classic’ ritual location in all Srid-pa’i lha ritual narratives. The third site is named Rizang Thangka, which is a level area immediately beyond and below the south gate of the walled, old Thempang village. Although a traditional ritual site, and one associated with the history of former ethnic conf lict at Thempang, the village primary school was erected around two sides of this level area by the Indian government, and it usually forms the playing field and congregation place for school children. Major rites of Days Two-Three of the festival were staged there.

Tsheshomba Offerings The day before the main festival, the sixteenth day, was taken up with intensive preparations by the worshippers and ritual specialists. The most time-consuming and elaborate of these preparations was the production and assembly of the various types of foodstuffs and symbolic devices that together represent the collective offerings presented to the lha from the members of each tsheshomba patriline during Day One of the festival. This work was carried out within the main household of each tsheshomba lineage where its active members gathered. The required offerings have four parts. First is the actual ‘tshe basket’ or tsheshomba itself which is filled with cooked rice locally grown and harvested by the tsheshomba descent unit. Second is a range of nine different types of edible items called tsheshomba tshogs, some of which are also symbolic. Next, there are the various materials for setting up a muitang (mos gtang) altar at the Lhasö’i sa festival ground. Finally, there is a container of freshly (phud) fermented liquor (mentioned both as yu and bangchang) called the tshe muder.93 The ninefold tsheshomba tshogs itself is comprised of the following items: 1. Semchen naka, lit. ‘animal species’, model animals fashioned out of buckwheat dough. 2. Momdang naka, small, flat cakes of buckwheat dough decorated with the eight auspicious symbols.

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Lhabum Garburi spring

procession route

Lama’s house Lhasö’i sa Tangsö’i sa Zi Apa Lhabrang Lama Lhabrang

boundary between fields and forest

Thempang village

N procession route

Rizang Thangka

3. Tshe bes, lit. ‘life flatbread’, round, roasted flatbread discs made from wheat flour. 4. Khabsey, long, plaited and twisted fried dough biscuits, and borka, small, round fried breads. 5. Bozong, taro-like wild sweet potatoes. 6. Nga, whole dried and occasionally fresh fish. 7. Zamalumnam, large balls of cooked local red rice. 8. Fruits considered ‘wild’, in the sense that they are naturally grown, and neither processed in any way nor manufactured, including bananas, mandarin oranges, sugar cane stalks, ginger root, betel nuts (goi) and pan leaves. 9. Tshe frum, lit. ‘life cheese’, cakes of fresh white cheese (frum) moulded into a conical or pyramidal shape some ten centimetres high. The consumable offerings for the lha include the liquor and the cooked rice mentioned above, and bags of popped maize kernels (khakung boromboy), although these are not counted within the nine traditional items of tsheshomba

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î Figure 18. Plan of sites for the Bapu Lhasöshe festival at Thempang.

tshogs. Generally, all the items used should be harvested or gathered and produced locally, and households especially reserve a portion of the first harvest of their various grain crops to use for the tshogs. The collective offerings of each tsheshomba have a ‘ritual arrow’ (mda’ dar) with three stems representing the three part of the offerings, which are decorated with long silk scarves ideally of the five primary colours and stalks of kusha grass. The arrows are set up in the tsheshomba baskets when these are carried during the procession from Thempang village to the Lhasö’i sa on Day One. They are then used to construct the offering altar to serve as receptacles (rten) for the descending lha to use while receiving what is being offered to them. These arrows and scarves also represent life and life powers of lineage members whom the basket is identified with. The arrow itself represents the ‘stronghold of life force’ (srog mkhar) for males,94 while the scarves are connections to the ancestral deities.

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

Of all these items comprising the tsheshomba tshogs, two merit further discussion. The semchen naka or ‘animal species’ I will discuss below in the following section on ransom animals. The white tshe frum or ‘life cheese’, made with the distinctive conical or pyramidal shape (pl. 143) of the ritual cakes called zur gsum bshos, is the single-most important item within the tsheshomba basket. This item is kept and transported in the cane basket with cooked rice, and it is believed protected within this. During the main festival day of Lhasöshe, this cone of ‘life cheese’ is removed from the basket and will be especially erected above all the other offerings at the centre of the main altar, atop a prop stick with forked branchlets at its end to form a small holder within which the ‘life cheese’ is supported (pl. 144). These prop sticks are used on Srid-pa’i lha altars as far away as the Kuri Chu valley in eastern Bhutan,95 and will be discussed again in chapter 17. The tshe frum is intimately associated with the collective life forces of the tsheshomba, and eating it transfers tshe directly into participants’ bodies. After offerings have been made, tshe frum is eaten communally in the following manner. The changnyerpa cut the ‘life cheese’ cone horizontally in half, and the upper, pointed half is shared and consumed only by members of the tsheshomba it belongs to, while the lower half is shared with anyone else present at the time whom members wish to offer it to.

Ransom Animals

éé Plate 143. Conical ritual cake of tshe frum or ‘life cheese’ placed within its protective tsheshomba basket upon the cooked rice offering, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

é Plate 144. Conical ritual cake of tshe frum or ‘life cheese’ mounted atop a forked prop stick on the main altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

Offerings to the deities in the long series of origin narratives which define the rites of Day One in Bapu Lhasöshe are common types of hospitality rites designed to please them so that the recipients’ powers, blessings or benefits will flow to their human worshippers/hosts. They also constitute a glud or ‘ransom’ rite in which specific items demanded by the deities must be given to them in exchange for a desired outcome. The glud is a common and ancient ‘rite of affliction’ first known from the Dunhuang corpus of Old Tibetan documents discovered in the Hexi Corridor. It is almost always employed on a case by case basis by a ritual specialist when a divination or prognostic indicates that a human problem is caused by an identifiable spirit entity luring away, appropriating or intentionally stealing vital forces

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essential for a healthy, balanced life. Glud are typically prescribed for cases of illness, weakness or vulnerability thought to result from this loss. Thus, we can think of glud as rather targeted rites since a specific deity or spirit must get specific ‘ransom items’ (yas stags) in exchange for restoring the basis for human life, and for which nothing else will do as a substitute. The glud manifest in the Bapu Lhasöshe is somewhat different from that just outlined, in that it appears to be generally ‘pre-emptive’ and addressed to both current and future cases of spirit caused illness. At Thempang, and the Sangti valley sites at which the same Lhasöshe tradition is still current, informants all mention its benefit for averting illness. This specific ritual goal is rarely mentioned in relation to Srid-pa’i lha worship at any sites, and if so it is often merely one point within a much longer list of other benefits the participants hope for. Thus, the glud-related dimension of these events at the Dirang sites is somewhat unique across the range of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. In fact, it appears to be a hybrid tradition in which the regionally present form of ancestral and revitalisation rites for Sridpa’i lha have become blended with a ‘bon’-identified glud narrative. In various ritual antecedent narratives for glud, it is animals, and quite often wild ones – stags are commonly mentioned – which must be given as the ransom items. The animal sought after as ransom by the concerned deity obviously refers to the exchange principle of ‘a life for a life’ following the ritual logic of glud, which always entails an exchange of things of equivalent value.96 As we will see below, this equivalence principle is carefully encoded into the Thempang glud narrative. The three locations or types of original human bodily illness in the upper and lower body and stomach (ro stod, ro smad, pho ba) are directly indexed to the value of the parallel parts of the ransom animals calculated in terms of precious substances such as gold, silver and turquoise. The principal ransom animals used for Bapu Lhasöshe are living, as opposed to the use of model substitutes as frequently found in Tibetan glud rites that have been reformulated under the influence of Buddhism or g.Yung-drung Bon. When offered, animals are all classed

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as being tshe thar or ‘freed life’. It means they can never be physically abused or harmed, used for work, or intentionally killed after they have been dedicated to the deities. Their tshe thar status in Srid-pa’i lha worship has nothing to do with Buddhist moral qualms about taking life. Rather, it highlights the ransom animals’ high value as the deity’s inviolable property once exchanged, thus underscoring the ritual logic of ‘a life for a life’ found in such glud rites. As his ransom in the Bapu Lhasöshe, the clan ancestral deity La-chong must receive one mature mithun bull with a white face and a long dewlap (pl. 145) and none other. The mithun is a forest ox of the extended eastern Himalayas occurring in the hill country between Bhutan and northern Burma, as well as southwards along the Naga and Chin Hill tracts. It is the major sacrificial animal of choice among many hill peoples throughout the range of its distribution.97 Part of its ritual appeal must surely lay in the fact that the mithun is categorically ambivalent in the eastern Himalayas. It occurs both as a purely wild and as a semi-domesticated animal, and this is reflected in the terminology applied to mithun in Himalayan highland dialects.98 This is also reflected in its use value. In the region of Srid-pa’i lha worship, wild mithun bulls are hunted – or at least were in the recent past – while the semi-domesticated bulls are used for breeding with domestic oxen to produce hybrids possessing qualities highly prized by local hill farmers. Due to this particular form of animal husbandry, the mithun was a significant premodern item of regional trans-Himalayan trade between central- and western Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor and adjacent areas to the east. Thus, in all respects, the mithun bull is the prestige animal of the entire region. Given the mithun bull’s high status in the region, it is unsurprising that it forms the ransom required for the Bapu clans’ important ancestral deity La-chong who is partly assimilated to ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the local myths. However, the white or white-faced mithun’s significance here is merely a sub-regional variation of the more widespread and ancient pattern of such large bovines serving as principal sacrificial animals in myths and rites, a pattern strongly evident in adjacent parts of southernmost Tibet. It is in fact a living example of the ancient regional cult of the white bovine bull.

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

At Thempang, the mithun ransom is given the ritual epithet ‘Lachong lha yak’ (CT La-chong lha g.yag). This harks back to the deity’s and the Bapu’s Tibetan Plateau origin region. The wild ‘lha yak’ is the ritual animal intimately associated with Yar-lha Sham-po, the ancient regional deity of the Yarlung highlands to whom the Bapu say La-chong was subordinate back in their ancestral lands prior to their migration southwards. Moreover, the yak celebrated as the ‘lha receptacle’ (CT lha rten) of Yar-lha Sham-po is none other than a ‘white lha yak’ (CT lha g.yag dkar po). This symbolically articulates with the ‘white-faced mithun’ (man bu gdong dkar) of the Thempangpa, as well as with the same animals cited or used during Srid-pa’i lha worship across east Bhutan. For example, during the annual festival in Trisa village of the Kheng Chikor region, even though actual animals are no longer used in the rites the Trisa bon po chants: Lha chen ’O-de Gung-rgyal, we invite you! Come and accept what is offered for stability of life! Come and accept the offering of a white-faced mithun from the east!99 Thus, according to localised understandings at least, the Tibetan wild yak has become assimilated to the eastern Himalayan mithun. From a comparative perspective, we are dealing here with a more widespread cult of white or white-faced bovine sacrificial animals, but I will defer that discussion until chapter 17 in a comparison between Thempang Lhasöshe and an equivalent festival for ancestral vitality among the Naxi of north-west Yunnan. The one known icon of La-chong (pl. 142) depicts him riding the white-faced mithun just as Yar-lha Sham-po rides a white yak in his Tibetan iconography, an image that also has symbolic links with the glud. 100 The other wider dimension of this equation is that Yar-lha Sham-po himself is reckoned to be a Srid-pa’i lha in various Srid-pa’i lha worship communities throughout the region. In other worship communities, Yar-lha Sham-po’s white yak is even specifically worshipped. An example occurs in the Ura valley of Bumthang, where Srid-pa’i lha worship is strongly dedicated to the welfare of livestock in what was until very recently a community based upon herding and livestock breeding. Ura’s local repertoire of ritual antecedent narratives for Srid-pa’i lha

worship includes a specific G.yag rabs or Narrative of the Yak in which the wild, white lha g.yag of Yar-lha Sham-po is celebrated at length.101 The ransom mithun for La-chong must not only be ‘whitefaced’ according to the myths, it must also be in f lawless and robust condition to qualify as a yas stags. The animal is selected prior to the festival by the master of ceremonies using divination. The names of all owners of suitable mithun are included for the selection that is based upon throws of dice. The implication of all such divinations is that the deity himself has ‘appointed’ (CT bskos) the specific animal chosen by way of the dice. The chosen mithun must then be appropriately treated, and thus as La-chong’s ransom it needs to be tied up at the lama lhabrang to be directly associated with the main body of pure ritual specialists who ritually interact with the deity. It must also be fed by the ‘pure’ tsangmi who is the lama’s ritual assistant (pl. 145). The second ransom animal that must be selected is that for the local place spirit (btsan) lDum-ri, and as we would expect it is far less prestigious than the magnificent mithun given to the clan ancestral deity. The origin myth mentions a type of lowland cow as lDum-ri’s first ransom, but a healthy and unblemished male cattle beast with reddish colouring is what was eventually used. On the day before the 2011 festival commenced, the bull selected as lDum-ri’s ransom animal fell ill, which immediately set in motion an urgent search for a suitable replacement. The village political leader and others concerned were busy from early morning with their mobile phones, contacting and trying to convince cattle owners to volunteer suitable animals for the selection process. It is by no means a foregone conclusion that anyone would want to offer a ransom animal since it will then be effectively lost forever from the owner’s herd. After some hours, a shortlist of willing cattle owners’ names was established and the master of ceremonies performed a public dice divination on the balcony of the lama lhabrang to make the final decision (pl. 146). Fumigation of the dice with incense was done, and sections of the rabs manuscript relevant to divination were consulted. A bull owner was selected and contacted to bring his animal back from forest grazing for the ransom. He agreed, but when his son heard

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î Plate 145. The white-faced mithun for the La-chong lha g.yag ransom, fed by a tsangmi outside the lama lhabrang, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

î Plate 146. Dice divination while consulting the Bro rabs manuscript to select a new ransom animal, balcony of the lama lhabrang, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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about the decision he told the organisers that their bull had blemishes and as such was not ritually fit to be a yas stags. A substandard animal would be inauspicious and lead to a potential failure of the rite, with possible negative consequences for the animal’s owners. An involved and animated discussion ensued at this withdrawal of the animal. It was finally agreed that a recently born male calf that was available should be used since it was still completely unblemished and had the right colouring.

tsheshomba will usually model twelve different and realistic looking species of animals for the semchen naka, and some informants say they represent the twelve animal signs of the Tibetan zodiac. However, multiple offerings of diverse animal and bird species that should reflect some ecological totality as additional ransom items are a most typical aspect of glud rites. They are mentioned in the very early texts presenting rites performed by ritual specialists termed bon po and gshen.102

The third ransom animal should be a white male sheep offered to ata Jowodi, and one was easily selected. The set of three different glud animals was then complete and all were tethered and fed within the village walls. As a ritual supplement to the three live animals as ransoms, each tsheshomba tshogs basket included scores of model animals about the size of a fist fashioned out of buckwheat dough (pl. 147). These are termed semchen naka (CT sems can sna kha), which literally means ‘animal species’. The members of a

A final offering animal, an unremarkable brown cow, had to be produced. Although it is not mentioned in the rabs manuscript as a specific glud ransom animal, it nevertheless appears to function in the same manner. This cow must be offered during every Bapu Lhasöshe at a lhabum shrine named Tangsö’i sa or ‘site for propitiation of the Tang’ in the northern part of the village.

ê Plate 147. Making semchen naka ransom animals within a tsheshomba lhabrang house, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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Dress Rehearsal and Purification During the early evening of the sixteenth day, a dress rehearsal and purification of the bro pa and bro mo and the tsangmi took place under the supervision of the master of ceremonies and senior persons related to the performers. The dress rehearsal always takes place at a ‘pure’ site beyond the village and fields, next to a small spring called Gaburi set in an undisturbed grove of trees to the north-east. Frequently, in other communities with Srid-pa’i lha worship, such natural springs that serve as purification sites during festivals are closely associated with settlement origins and foundation myths. A fire was kindled here for incense smoke and bottles of homemade liquor were on hand for the performers to drink while gathered in the bitter cold evening air. Each of the ritual specialists must wash briefly at the spring to purify themselves prior to the festival commencement the following morning. The dress rehearsal itself is a regular event prior to the festival and is needed for several reasons. Since it had been six years following the last staging of a Bapu Lhasöshe, some newly appointed performers, such as the bro pa chilu mentioned above, had to be inducted, and practice of the basic bro steps refreshed everyone’s ability. Also, the costumes used had to be taken out of storage, and repaired or constructed anew.

11.5 Festival Day One According to the ritual order, the master of ceremonies should begin the rites of Day One by chanting the long origin narrative for Bapu Lhasöshe. I was not allowed to enter the lama lhabrang and could not observe this, although I was informed that it had not been properly undertaken since the master of ceremonies had a drinking problem and was failing to acquit his duties. Even though I am unable to report its actual performance context during 2011, I give a full translation of the origin narrative here since it is the central myth behind the festival. It also demonstrates how a ‘bon’-identified glud rabs or ‘ransom narrative’ of ancient pedigree has become locally combined with the cult’s main goal of cyclic revitalisation.

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Like many Srid-pa’i lha rabs sequences, the Thempang origin narrative is a linked series of accounts. It begins with a cosmogony, then appointment of the order of the phenomenal world, an outline of the primordial problem of loss or obstruction of human vitality threatening life, and the subsequent search for animal ‘ransoms’ (glud) to provide the specific ritual solution in relation to the lha. The central motif complex of problem-search-journey-resolution so very common in earlier Tibetan rabs is thus completely preserved in this text. The short title of the narrative is Bro rabs, giving local emphasis to the performance style of bro movement undertaken by the main ritual actors. Yet, it is clear the bulk of the narrative is in fact a type of glud rabs for a ‘ransom’ rite, and for convenience, I will refer to it as such below. The Srid-pa’i lha deities are not explicitly named within the actual glud rabs, but are mentioned as the lha who are aggrieved. The short invocation preceding the initial origin accounts and the chants that immediately follow it all directly reference ’O-de Gung-rgyal as the supreme lha concerned, and later allude to the clan ancestral deity phu bzang La-chong as being assimilated to ’O-de Gung-rgyal, as was demonstrated for the Sho rabs cited above. Following the long set of cosmogonic and glud narratives (fig. 17, nos. 1-6), the remainder of the rabs used during the festival are mostly conventional Srid-pa’i lha ritual chants appealing for tshe and g.yang life powers and the like, as we would expect. Thus, the glud rabs translated below has the appearance of having been inserted within, and adapted to, an existing set of original ritual chants.103 [3a] [Invocation]

lHa, come, come! Like a bird, [come] to the place of worship.104 lHa ’O-de Gung-rgyal, listen! Listen to us in the midst of the sky! [How it was in the beginning according to ancient custom]105 In the beginning, as for what was appointed 106 [into the phenomenal world], there was appointment of lha and human beings.

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

As for what was begotten, there were births of lha and humans. At first, there were births of humans who worshipped ardently. Afterwards, there were births of lha who protected fiercely. Explanatory verses about those who were begotten is the story which is now told: At first, the fact of birth had not [even] stirred in the place of worship of the lha. In the beginning, primordial space did not exist. In the void, Neither the sun nor the earth existed. Neither the earth nor the sky existed.107 [3b] In the beginning, in the aeon of the void, The sun was neither in the east nor in the west. It was neither in the west nor in the east. In the beginning, at the time of the aeon of darkness, The sun was neither in the south nor in the north. It was neither in the north nor in the south. In the beginning, at the time when there was nothing whatsoever, Was it space or the void that came first?108 In the beginning, was it being endowed with blood or being without blood that came first? Being endowed with blood did not come first. Being without blood came first. Being endowed with a body did not come first. Being without a body came first. Being endowed with a mind did not come first. Being without a mind came first. [4a] Was it being endowed with hair or being without hair that came first? Being endowed with hair did not come first. Being without hair came first. It was like that in the beginning according to ancient custom. [Creation of phenomenal existence] Having revealed how the beginning was according to ancient custom,

Now the manner of creation of phenomenal existence will be explained. When explaining the manner of creation of phenomenal existence, If one says they are ignorant about the sky above, Concerning the sky, it was created from a mere condensation of its surface.109 The sky is what expanded a hundredfold from that mere condensation of its surface. The eight-spoked wheel of the sky was pitched [like a canopy] over that which was above. The manner of the pitching of the sky was like that. If one says they are ignorant about the earth, Concerning the earth, it was created from a mere warp thread. [4b] The earth is what expanded a hundredfold from that mere warp thread. The eight-petalled lotus of the earth spread out across that which was below. The manner of the spreading out of the earth was like that. If one says they are ignorant about the wind, Concerning the wind, it was created from a mere tiny sphere. The wind is what expanded a hundredfold from that mere tiny sphere. The pair of crossed vajras of the wind issued forth from that. The manner of creation of the wind was like that. If one says they are ignorant about water, Concerning water, it was created from a mere bowstring[-like stream]. Water is what expanded a hundredfold from that mere bowstring[-like stream]. The great ocean issued forth from below. The manner of creation of water was like that. If one says they are ignorant about stone, [5a] Concerning stone, it was created from a mere flake of stone.110 Stone is what grew a hundredfold from that mere flake of stone. The ancient Ar-mo-leb stone111 came forth from that. The manner of creation of stone was like that.

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If one says they are ignorant about the mountain, Concerning the mountain, it was created from the mere [size of] a thumb. The mountain is what grew a hundredfold from the mere [size of] a thumb. The cosmic mountain came to sit in the centre of things. The manner of creation of the mountain was like that. If one says they are ignorant about the rock cliff, Concerning the rock cliff, it was created from the mere [size of] a fingernail. The rock cliff is what grew a hundredfold from the mere [size of] a fingernail. The rock cliff the colour of teeth being displayed came forth from that. The manner of creation of the rock cliff was like that. [5b] If one says they are ignorant about the tree, Concerning the tree, it was created from a mere balance-arm stick [for a hand-held scale]. The tree is what grew a hundredfold from that mere balance-arm stick. The tree that completely sprouted out of the earth came forth from that. The manner of creation of the tree was like that. The manner of the first creation was like that. [Appointing things to their place] Having revealed the manner of creation with the above, Verses on how things were first appointed to their place are now explained.112 When explaining how things were appointed to their place, As for east and west, they were appointed for the sun and moon. As for south and north, they were appointed as productive ground.113 As for the sky above, it was appointed for the rains. When one asks who was appointed up above, The victorious and powerful lha were appointed up above.

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When one asks who was appointed as the lha, Mighty Indra 114 was appointed as the lha. There is no other lha higher than that lha. When one asks who was appointed down below, The victorious and powerful klu were appointed down below. When one asks who was appointed as the klu, dGa’-bo ’Jog-po was appointed as the klu. There is no other klu higher than that klu. When one asks who was appointed in between, The victorious and powerful btsan were appointed in between. When one asks who was appointed as the btsan, sKyid-bu Lung-btsan was appointed as the btsan. There is no other btsan higher than that btsan. When one asks who was appointed to inhabited places, [6b] The king, ministers, lords and subjects were appointed to inhabited places. When one asks who was appointed for the people, The emperor was appointed as ruler who speaks115 for the people.116 There was no other person higher than that man. The victorious and powerful lha above were first. The victorious and powerful klu down below were second. The victorious and powerful btsan in between were third. The black-headed human beings were gathered together as the fourth. [6a]

[Origins of human illness] When one asks what was appointed to a human being, Humans were appointed a body a full span of the arms [in height], with four sides.117 Humans were appointed a body that is a mass of flesh and blood. When that mass of flesh and blood was appointed, In the beginning, a body with disease was unknown. Then, diseases of the body became known. Thereafter,

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

The upper part of the body was afflicted by tuberculosis.118 [7a] The lower part of the body was afflicted by illnesses. The stomach in between was afflicted by acute pain. The afflicted became sicker and sicker. Now, there can be a method for seeking the cause of illness.119 [Search for a bon diviner] A search for a bon was undertaken to the east of the sun. The bon of the east was Bar-ba Gling-bzhi.120 The bon, having been led into the presence of the dying person,121 Performed a divination in the presence of the dying person. Although the bon did that, he did not finish identifying the illness. Without finishing identifying the illness, the bon went back the way he came. Because he went back the way he came, the lha [causing the illness] went unheeded. A search for a bon was then undertaken to the south of the sun. The bon of the south was Ma-’ong bZang-chen. The bon, having been led into the presence of the dying person, [7b] Performed a divination in the presence of the dying person. Although the bon did that, he did not finish identifying the illness. Without finishing identifying the illness, the bon went back the way he came. Because he went back the way he came, the lha went unheeded. A search for a bon was then undertaken to the west of the sun. The bon of the west was sPyan-mig bZang-chen. The bon, having been led into the presence of the dying person, Performed a divination in the presence of the dying person.

Although the bon did that, he did not finish identifying the illness. Without finishing identifying the illness, the bon went back the way he came. Because he went back the way he came, the lha went unheeded. A search for a bon was then undertaken to the north of the sun. The bon of the north was bon Khri-mrtsi Na-mrtsi. The bon, having been led into the presence of the dying person, Performed a divination in the presence of the dying person. Although the bon did that, he did not finish identifying the illness. Without finishing identifying the illness, the bon went back the way he came. Because he went back the way he came, the lha went unheeded. There was no other bon within the four continents. There was no other bon within the regions. A search for a bon was then undertaken to the centre [beneath] the sun. The bon of the centre was bon Shes-rab Mi-bon.122 [Diagnosis] The bon [Shes-rab Mi-bon], having been led into the presence of the dying person, Offered incense and butter lamps upward. The lha mighty Indra took delight 123 in them up above. He cast offerings of flour and milk downward. The klu dGa’-bo ’Jog-po took delight in them down below.124 [8b] He cast a large and fine ritual cake in between. The btsan sKyid-bu 125 Lung-btsan took delight in it in between. Taking three types of grain in his hands, Bon Shes-rab Mi-bon performed a divination. As for what he saw, he saw the destructive powers of a lha [causing the illness]. He asked three times, “What does the lha require?” He was told, “The lha requires a mithun!”

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[Search for the mithun as ransom animal] A mithun could not be found. There was no commanded method. [Bon Shes-rab Mi-bon] said, “Now, there can be a way to search for a mithun. There is a great region to the east of the sun.” A mithun was searched for in the direction of the great region. No mithun was found in three years of trying to entice126 one. Even after three years of trying to entice one, there was no mithun. [9a] Those without a mithun returned the way they came. Because they returned the way they came, the lha [causing the illness] went unheeded. [Bon Shes-rab Mi-bon] said, “There is a great forest south of the sun.” A mithun was searched for in the direction of the great forest. No mithun was found in three years of trying to entice one. Even after three years of trying to entice one, there was no mithun. Those without a mithun returned the way they came. Because they returned the way they came, the lha went unheeded. [Bon Shes-rab Mi-bon] said, “There are high mountains west of the sun.” A mithun was searched for in the direction of the high mountains. No mithun was found in three years of trying to entice one. Even after three years of trying to entice one, there was no mithun. Those without a mithun returned the way they came. Because they returned the way they came, the lha went unheeded. [Bon Shes-rab Mi-bon] said, “There are great meadows north of the sun.” A mithun was searched for in the direction of the great meadows.

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No mithun was found in three years of trying to entice one. Even after three years of trying to entice one, there was no mithun. Those without a mithun returned the way they came. Because they returned the way they came, the lha went unheeded. There was no mithun among the four continents. There was no mithun within the regions. A diviner was consulted for a divination. A prognosticator was consulted for a prognosis. An astrologer was consulted for a calculation. The diviner regarded his divination. The prognosticator regarded his prognosis. The diviner and the prognosticator reported [these results]: Where there are three mountaintops, The three valleys [below] have a man who possesses an arrow [i.e., a hunter]. [10a] A cauldron is set up upon the bloody banks of a river, and various kinds of water are gathered in it. Just as various kinds of water are gathered there, So, too, are various kinds of wood [i.e., a hunter’s camp]. [The mithun] is located at the boundary of the forest and the meadow. [Obtaining the ransom mithun] [Following the divination,] a mithun was sighted to the east, on the banks of the rGya-ri Chu;127 It was seen by a Bishum hunter.128 He braided a cane rope129 nine arm-spans in length. There was a very large bamboo plant.130 He cut off 131 the top of the bamboo plant and went [to the mithun]. He offered it a stalk from the top of the bamboo plant. [As it ate] he fastened the cane rope to the mithun’s head.132 [10b] He said, “I have obtained a good quality mithun!” It was traded 133 by the Bishum hunter. Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver.

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade.134 Other people obtained it from the Bishum hunter.135 It was traded by a dGu-rdi.136 Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. Other people obtained it from the dGu-sdi. It was traded by a La-la ’Byu-’ju.137 Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. [11a] All of its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. From him, it was received by other people. It was traded by a Thong-zhing.138 Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. [From him, it was received by other people.] It was traded by a bZang-pa.139 Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. Other people obtained it from the bZang-pa. It was traded by a Ra-hung[-pa].140 Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. Other people obtained it from the Ra-hung[-pa] It was thought better to go with it to Kham-nyer village.141 It was thought better to go with it to rBud village.142 It was thought better to go with it to Khu-gtam village.143 It was thought better to go with it to Si-mi-mkhar [i.e., Thempang].144

[11b]

It was thought it better to go and give it into the hands of the ritual sponsor.145 The rgya lu [i.e., tsang mi] then received it from the hands of the ritual sponsor. The lha’i bu bro pa146 then received it from the hands of the tsang mi. The lha’i bu bro pa then offered it to the lha. As for the phu [deity], it was La-chong, powerful one of outer places. As for the mda’ [deity], it was La’i-nang, powerful one of narrow places. The patient was told, “Arise from sleep! Behold the pure mountains!”147 [Obtaining the ransom cow]

To the north of Bodhgaya in India,148 A cow 149 was seen. It was seen by a sDom Ha-ti.150 It was traded by the sDom Ha-ti. Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. Other people obtained it from the sDom Ha-ti. It was traded by a Tha-khur of the plains.151 Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. [12a] Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. Other people obtained it from the Tha-khur of the plains. It was thought better to go with it to La-mo Ko-le pass.152 It was thought better to go with it to La-mo Ri-gtsong pass.153 It was thought better to go with it to Cheng-le village.154 It was thought better to go with it to La-mo sPu-ri pass.155 It was thought better to go with it to the lTug-span villages.156

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It was thought better to go with it to Dung-mtsho dKar-mo.157 It was thought better to go with it to La-mo Reg-la pass.158 It was thought better to go with it to La-mo Bom-thi pass.159 It was thought better to go with it to Ra-hung village. It was thought better to go with it to Si-mi-mkhar. It was thought better to go and give it into the hands of the ritual sponsor. [12b] The tsang mi then received it from the hands of the ritual sponsor. From the hands of the tsang mi, it was offered to the lha. As for the phu [deity], it was lDum-ri, powerful one of outer places. As for the mda’ [deity], it was Sha-phur, powerful one of narrow places. The patient was told, “Arise from sleep! Behold the pure mountains!”

May we not be caught in the noose of the btsan! May we not be stolen by the bdud! May we not be subject to the destructive powers of the klu! May our innate deities defend and protect us from the lha!164 The ‘result’ and beneficiaries of the ransom rite are only briefly invoked in the immediately following section, which reads: Now, the trapped illness of the rgya lu is at the place of dispatch. The trapped illness of the rgya mo is at the place of dispatch. It is above, in the direction of the lha, at the place of dispatch. Nothing negative will be seen in dreams, and Nothing inauspicious will be seen in omens, these two.165

[Obtaining the ransom sheep] To the west, within160 the area of the Tshe-drangs bCu-drug,161 A sheep was seen; it was seen by an A’u 162 ’Brog-pa. It was traded by the ’Brog-pa. Its upper body was worth as much as gold. Its lower body was worth as much as silver. Its stomachs were worth as much as turquoise. All its fleshy parts amounted to three units for trade. Other people obtained it from the A’u ’Brog-pa. It was thought better to go with it to La-mo sPungsum pass.163 It was thought better to go with it to Si-mi-mkhar. The tsang mi then received it from the hands of the ritual sponsor. From the hands of the tsang mi, it was offered to the lha. [13a] Elder brother U-ti [i.e., Jowodi] was the powerful lha. The patient was told, “Arise from sleep! Behold the pure mountains!” [Aspirations]

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The rgya lu and rgya mo here refer to the young ritual actors who perform as bro pa and bro mo during the rites, and thus the benefit of the ransom seems principally directed at the sponsor clans’ young lives, those who are in their prime, who should be full of potency and potential. This is confirmed, as we will see below, by way of many chanted appeals for the same ritual performers to gain the powers of the Srid-pa’i lha.

Commentary on the Glud rabs The Thempang glud rabs represents a complex adaptation of very old narrative motifs associated with glud ‘ransoms’. It is based upon an overarching motif complex of problemdivination-search/journey-resolution found in many older texts. Yet, unlike other glud rabs, the original problem is not due to the unpredictable contingencies of life, most commonly depicted as inadvertently offending worldly spirits, falling victim to accidents, experiencing bad luck, and so on. A patient is lifeless because ancestral lha have not received the gifts that maintain their benevolence. The tale addresses

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a primordial condition: lha and humans are appointed to each other; humans then develop illness – the symptoms of which are like being asleep, a state of ‘lifelessness’ or suspension of ability to act – due to their failure to observe their side of the relationship with gifts of appropriate animals; when rites are properly done fullness to life is restored. This is the reciprocal precedent for ancestor worship. The three different return journeys in the Thempang glud rabs, which eventually lead each of the three appropriate ransom animals back to Thempang for the glud rites, all follow highly realistic routes of premodern trade and the flow of certain types of economically significant animals for exchange and taxation. Likewise, the named human agents featuring in the chain of exchanges and transfer of the animals are all identifiable with the actual ethnolinguistic and social groups living along trade routes, and whom the premodern Thempangpa would have encountered and had to deal with. The return mithun route leading from the Bichom River area westwards, via the Sherdukpen area, to Thempang reflects the actual premodern direction of trade in mithun and some of the possible middlemen involved. 166 The animal’s arrival at the site of ransom is an upstream journey. The return cow route proceeds northwards from the Assam plains, specifically from those regions where peoples from the Mon-yul Corridor once performed Buddhist pilgrimage and engaged in trade and tribute collections. The animal’s arrival at the site of ransom is an upstream journey. This area was a source of plains cattle breeds that were introduced into the hills due to their milk yields. The actual cow route listed in the rabs is not the well-known main branch of the Indo-Tibetan trade route passing northwards via Kalaktang, the Jomo La and Manda La passes to Dirang, but rather the easterly route up from Darrang via the Piri La pass, the eastern Sherdukpen settlement area, and finally the Bomdi La pass. These transits for mithun and cows represent older, premodern routes Thempangpa commonly used in winter to access the Char duar lands on the plains immediately south of the foothills mid-way between the Dhansiri and Bhareli Rivers, to collect tribute and undertake winter trade trips. This route information provides a possible terminus ad quem for composition of this part of the glud rabs text, which must be at

least two centuries old. A major historical consequence of the early nineteenth century conflict between Thempangpa and the Sherdukpen of Rupa was that travel between Thempang and Char duar became undertaken by way of a highly circuitous route to avoid Sherdukpen lands. The new route first went far to the west via the Manda La pass, down to the Kuriapara duar, and then eastwards across to Char duar, and returned the same way. 167 Both mithun and cow routes detailed in the glud rabs completely integrate transit via Sherdukpen lands, and thus represent those used prior to the start of the nineteenth century. Finally, the eastward sheep route leading from the Merak and Sakteng pastoral highlands along the far eastern Bhutan border and then to Thempang represented an actual conduit for live sheep. The animal’s arrival at the site of ransom is a downstream journey. The sheep route reflects known historical precedents. Up until the 1940s, the Thempangpa collected an annual tribute from Lish village that included live sheep, which the Lishpas themselves obtained from their highland Drokpa neighbours to the west who had to pay the Lishpa ‘pasture fees’ (rtswa rin) in exchange for grazing rights on lands the latter owned around Lubrang.168 This topographical realism in the ransom searches and deliveries of the two major bovine animals, namely mithun and cow, constituting the central sacrifice to the lha, translates into important ritual meaning. As elucidated in chapters 2 and 7, from the general perspective of the cosmology and hydrography of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the upstream orientation of ritual journeys is always highly significant, with upstream journeys being the precursor for revitalisation. This, too, is the result of the Thempang glud rabs. Regardless of its local adaptations, this glud narrative demonstrably shares a common ancestry with some Old Tibetan rabs and the glud narrative of the stag investigated in the previous chapter. Beyond the overarching motif complex of problem-divination-search/journey-resolution also found at Changmadung, we can point to some specific examples in much older texts. The theme of the ritual sponsor consulting a bon diviner-priest and needing to acquire the correct bovine animal, as we have here, occurs in the

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Old Tibetan manuscript PT 1289, in an incomplete passage related to animal sacrifice for death rites. A ‘female yak-cow hybrid’ (mdzo mo) must be acquired for the rites by a local figure tellingly named lHo-bu Lang-ling, literally ‘lHo [clan] scion Lang-ling’ who hails from the southern (lho) frontier regions, and who is an obvious namesake of the ancient gDung and later Srid-pa’i lha cult ancestral deity Gu-se Lang-ling. Many points in the plot of this ransom narrative in PT 1289 overlap with the Thempang glud rabs, and they can be summarised following Rolf Stein’s study of the text:169 1. The protagonists are in ‘the south’ at the frontier, or they go south. 2. To avoid a death, a ransom must be sought in the form of a special bovine animal. 3. The father of this bovine animal is a white ox who remains in the southern highlands, namely at the head of a river and thus upstream, while the mother cow stays at the foot of the river, downstream. 4. To catch their daughter – the female yak-cow hybrid – as the ransom bovine, a trap with food as bait is used. 5. The ransom bovine is praised for its golden horns, ponytail and iron eyes, to emphasise its value.170 6. One protagonist passes it into the hands of the next. 7. A bon po ritual specialist indexed to a cardinal direction gives instructions for the proper procedure of the rite, and performs divination. 8. The rite is stated to be ‘so beneficial’. Two further points of similarity occur in the Old Tibetan passage, yet they overlap with ritual practice and organisation in the Bapu Lhasöshe festival, rather than the written content of the Thempang glud rabs itself. One is that the ransom bovine may not, under any circumstances, be physically abused or marked. The other is that the lHo clan (or ‘southern’) protagonists address each other as ‘brother’ and ‘sister’, although, as Stein pointed out, this is ambivalent and they may be husband and wife. This recalls three closely related aspects informing Bapu Lhasöshe. One is the primordial incest of the Thempang origin myth when the four brothers form four clans and then intermarry, thus exchanging their own sisters. The second is the ‘sister’ or

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‘wife’ ambivalence of the kin term and ritual role of zi in the festival. Finally, there are the agnatic tsheshomba ceremonial groups, based upon ‘bone-sharing’ brothers and sisters. In addition, one can note that the hunter in the Thempang glud rabs who eventually acquires the ransom animal represents a character type and tale motif occurring in parallel glud rabs discussed in the previous chapter, and in very early Old Tibetan precedents pointed out there. Local folk tales about hunters, and motifs of hunters chasing wild animals in both oral and written narratives of origins are in fact pan-Himalayan in occurrence.171 My field research revealed them to be extremely common in the oral and written cultures of all populations settled up and down the entire Monyul Corridor, with much sharing of motifs and individual elements such as names. Due to the very ubiquity of the hunter character and motif, we can only understand it in any specific local context against this much wider and deeper background of occurrence. Thus, the hunter motif is something we would absolutely expect to occur in the Thempang glud rabs, yet its analytical value only comes from our ability to correlate it with real data from the story-telling population’s economic and social history.

Invoking the Auxiliary Deities As demonstrated in part III and the previous chapters of part IV, bon shamans and sub-shamans often invoke a set of auxiliary beings who are associated with their bodies, costumes – especially headgear– and paraphernalia to seek their protection and powers during performance of rites. Most auxiliaries belong to one or other of the sets of five deities oriented to the cardinal directions. They are named variously gsang chen rigs lnga, gsas gsang ru bzhi dbal lnga, or simply rigs lnga. All of them are thought to manifest on or at the five-panelled rigs lnga crown worn by the ritual specialist or the feathers called bya ru ‘planted’ upon the headgear. These auxiliary beings have either entirely generic identities, or are given names found in Tibetan salvation religions (cf. appx. E), depending upon the degree of influence the latter traditions may have had upon the bon shamans who maintain the tradition at any site. Given that it is hereditary

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

village lamas who draw upon Buddhist rites to perform services in other contexts, and who often take the role of the master of ceremonies for Lhasöshe at Thempang, we see the names of Buddhist rigs lnga deities inserted at this site. A second set of auxiliaries include the pho lha and dgra lha and other deities, who are also invoked and associated with the headgear, but more specifically with the bya ru or ‘bird horn’ feathers worn upon the head or hat. The master of ceremonies at Thempang must chant an invocation to the auxiliaries of both the rigs lnga and the bya ru prior to commencing any of the main rites for setting up altars and making offerings at them. At other sites, it is only the main hereditary bon shaman who invokes auxiliary deities. In the Thempang Lhasöshe, which lacks – or perhaps has never had – a hereditary bon shaman for reasons unknown to us, the hereditary bro pa wore full ritual headgear as the essential part of their costume for the entire festival. It is to this that the auxiliaries are invoked. The headgear consists of the round, black felted wool cap locally called tsitpa shamu which normally has four or five long, finger-like ‘drip-tips’ coming down from its rim to conduct away rainwater during wet weather. This felted woollen hat, with the ‘drip-tips’ tucked inside and out of the way, is covered with a white silk scarf and colourful woven straps, one of which is tied under the chin to support it. At the rear is mounted a small bamboo frame to which are attached five tall stalks of kusha grass each together with a peacock feather. These five devices constitute the rigs lnga or literally ‘five aspects’, with their five feathers being the bya ru. On some of the hats, a round plaque elaborates the central stalk and feather. This, in turn, is decorated with small conch shells as well (pls. 37, 148). At the rear of the hat, five long silk scarves in the five primary colours are attached and hang down from the back. The headgear is thus typical of the woollen bal thod type used by many bon shamans and other related ‘bon’-identified ritual specialists across the region. These also can have some ral pa arrangement hanging down the back, and they share the same style of bya ru as found at Tawang from where the overall design of the headgear has undoubtedly come (cf. chs. 6, 12).

A section of the initial chant concerning the bya ru headgear (fig. 17, no. 9) reveals its character. The inscribed placards mentioned both here and in chants from other sites are no longer parts of the headgear: My right bya ru, Has the base of the pho lha and dgra lha. Their protection is certain! It has a placard of conch white. The inscription is written in precious gold. It is the seat of holy religion. My left bya ru, Has a placard of turquoise blue. The inscription is written in black ink. It is the serving place of g.Yu-grogs-po.172 Upon the crown of my head, There sits an excellent, firm pillar of jewels. Its power is certain!173 The full chant to the five-fold rigs lnga deities (fig. 17, no. 10), who at Thempang have Buddhist rigs lnga names substituted, rather than the five-fold gsas scheme found elsewhere (cf. appx. E), is as follows: At the time of O ha’i, on today’s date, Looking into the sky, the stars are excellent. Looking over the earth, the grains of sand are excellent. Looking in between them, the day of the month is excellent. An excellent day, excellent stars, all three aspects are excellent. On this day with all three aspects [being excellent]: Listen to me lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal! Listen to me phu bzang La-chong Drag-po! I am no lha who punishes. I am no klu with powerful magic. [19a] I am no btsan who steals. I am no bdud who abducts. I am a lha’i bu who is the measure of an awakened one: A man who offers symbolic gestures to the lha; A man who will display a spectacle for the lha. [18b...]

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î Plate 148. Two versions of bro pa headgear with fivepointed rigs lnga devices and bya ru feathers mounted on top, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

[19b]

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What does the lha’i bu put on his head? The lha’i bu wears a rigs lnga upon his head. What deity arises there?174 The deity rDo-rje Sems-dpa’ of the east arises there, Seated atop an elephant throne. What does the lha’i bu put on his head? The lha’i bu wears a rigs lnga upon his head. What deity arises there? The deity Rin-chen ’Byung-ldan of the south arises there, Seated atop an excellent horse throne. What does the lha’i bu put on his head? The lha’i bu wears a rigs lnga upon his head. What deity arises there? The deity sNang-ba mTha’-yas of the west arises there, Seated atop a peacock throne. What does the lha’i bu put on his head? The lha’i bu wears a rigs lnga upon his head.

[20a]

What deity arises there? The deity Don-yod Grub-pa of the north arises there, Seated upon a shang shang [bird] throne. What does the lha’i bu put on his head? The lha’i bu wears a rigs lnga upon his head. What deity arises there? The deity rNam-par sNang-mdzad of the centre arises there, Seated upon a great lion throne. [The rigs lnga] is the site for negating the lha’s punishment. It is the site for neutralising the klu’s powerful magic. It is the site for halting the btsan’s thefts. It is the site for suppressing the bdud’s abductions.175

It recalls for us once again that the headgear of all ritual specialists worshipping Srid-pa’i lha is their most important item of ritual equipment. By comparison, the headgear of

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the bro mo appears to have no such ritual significance and is not mentioned in the rabs. It does, however, have a direct significance for the glud dimension of the rites (see below).

Offerings at Tangsö’i sa During the morning of the seventeenth day, the tsheshomba households and the various lhabrang were all busy finalising their offerings and costumes for the first main day of the festival, while elsewhere a discrete tshe thar offering was made at the Tangsö’i sa shrine. Early in the morning only two tsangmi ritual assistants were present to perform the rites but no members of the public (pl. 149). The Tangsö’i sa lhabum is located at the extreme north end of Thempang’s walled settlement precinct, within the ‘upper’ Khochilu clan residence area (fig. 16). It is said to be associated with the earliest foundations of the village itself. A simple f lat stone altar with a depression in it juts out from the front wall of the shrine and offerings are placed on this. Some informants say blood from animal sacrifice was formerly offered up into this natural ‘cup’. The Bapu vaguely described the tang as a negative force that can create obstacles and bad outcomes in human affairs, such as accidents and suicides. The notion of tang is sometimes paired with kharam that is another type of negative or harmful force somewhat equivalent to familiar European notions such as ‘curses’ or the ‘evil eye’.176 In some Dirang communities, one also finds a ritual specialist role termed tangkhen, literally ‘tang specialist’, who perform a range of rites of affliction. Some informants described tang as a class of deities as well, and this idea reveals the source of tang as most likely being the Sartang communities adjacent to Thempang, since Tang is what they recently began to name their own previously ‘nameless’ local ritual system. At the Tangsö’i sa, incense was lit and some offerings of cooked grain and liquor were made upon the small stone altar on the front of the lhabum, while the brown cow tshe thar was offered to avert the tang by simply presenting it and tethering it there. This cow was later led down to the Lhasö’i sa festival grounds with the other ransom animals, but I was told this was merely to keep company with the small male calf being offered to lDum-ri.

Tsheshomba Procession to Lhasö’i sa In the late morning, the north gate of the village, which is also called the Khomchit gate, was prepared for the start of the tsheshomba procession from Thempang down to the Lhasö’i sa festival ground. As the first participants began to gather behind the gate, two changnyerpa stewards came and held a rope across the opening to stop any passage down to Lhasö’i sa before the appointed time. Since the procession is ranked by order of specific tsheshomba patrilines, as described above, the barrier gives them time to arrive and establish the correct order before their combined departure. The first group who heads the procession is the special tsheshomba of the lama lhabrang including the key ritual specialists and the ransom animals. The first to depart in line were the tsangmi who each led a ransom animal in ranked order, starting with ’O-de Gung-rgyal/La-chong’s mithun, lDum-ri’s bull and ata Jowodi’s ram. The master of ceremonies came next. He was followed by a changnyerpa bearing a smoking incense brazier to purify the way for the bro pa group headed by the bro pa chilu, then the bro mo, the Khochilu host household members of the lama lhabrang carrying the actual baskets of tsheshomba offerings, and finally all remaining tsheshomba patrilines following them in ranked order (pls. 150, 151). These baskets are not arbitrarily carried by anyone in a patriline. The carriers must have both parents still living for reasons of auspiciousness, and ideally women must carry the baskets containing the nine food items decorated with the ritual arrows for the main altar, while male carriers take the yu muder alcohol. This was not always strictly observed, depending upon circumstances in a household. Tsheshomba leaders and carriers often carried a brazier of incense as they walked to purify the route and the carriers. The entire procession proceeded in this way for nearly an hour, with one tsheshomba after another in their ranked order descending the path to the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, thus giving a public display of the entire Bapu clan social organisation to its own members. The line was frequently

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î Plate 149. Tsangmi performing offerings at the Tangsö’i sa lhabum shrine, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

îPlate 150. Tsheshomba groups processing to the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 177

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halted up the hill due to the time it took for groups who had arrived to settle themselves and their offerings in the narrow spaces before the altar stones.

Borrowing the Ritual Site As all groups in the tsheshomba procession began arriving and assembling at the Lhasö’i sa, and before they placed any of their heavy baskets full of offerings upon the ground (pl. 151), the lha’i bu party chanted and performed bro to request use of the ritual site (dog sa). This has two distinct phases. The first is the Earth Narrative (Sa rabs) concerning appointment of the cosmologically appropriate type of site for the rites to take place upon (fig. 17, no. 11). The second phase entails a request to ‘borrow’ (g.yar ba) the site from a great array of the deities of the phenomenal world (fig. 17, no. 12): [20a...] As for the present O ha’i, the Earth Narrative of the

site is explained. [20b] If we explain the antecedent narrative for ritual sites of this place [it is like this]: The lha’i bu has no ritual site agreed upon [with the deities]. Beneath me, a site [the size of] a full span of the arms is the one appointed; What colour does that earth have? The colour of the earth is black. The earth of the bdud is all black. I cannot agree with black bdud. May the black bdud yet be dislocated away from it!178 Beneath me, a site of one full span of the arms was appointed; Beneath me, a site [the size of] a full arrow-length is the one appointed; What colour does that earth have? The colour of the earth is blue. The earth of the klu is all blue. I cannot agree with wealthy klu. May the wealthy klu yet be dislocated away from it!

Beneath me, a site [the size of] a full cubit is the one appointed; What colour does that earth have? The colour of the earth is red. The earth of the btsan is all red. I cannot agree with red btsan. May the red btsan yet be dislocated away from it! Beneath me, a site [the size of] a full span between thumb and outstretched middle finger is the one appointed; What colour does that earth have? The colour of the earth is white. The earth of the lha is all white. The lha’i bu can agree with the site of the lha. The lha’i bu have obtained an excellent ritual site. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! [21b] May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! 179

[21a]

Immediately following that, comes the chant for the borrowing of the ritual site: [21b…] O ha’i!

The female deity of sky is Gos-dkar-mo; We borrow the ritual site from Gos-dkar-mo. The female deity of earth is bsTan-ma-sti; We borrow the ritual site from bsTan-ma-sti. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! The female deity of rock is Nyang-zhur-ma; We borrow the ritual site from Nyang-zhur-ma. The female deity of water is Zil-pa-mo; We borrow the ritual site from Zil-pa-mo. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! The female deity of wood is lJang-legs-mo; [22a] We borrow the ritual site from lJang-legs-mo. The female deity of stones is Thig-le-mo; We borrow the ritual site from Thig-le-mo. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm!

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î Plate 151. Tsheshomba procession with decorated offering baskets arriving at the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! The female deity of meadows is Tsong-legs-ma; We borrow the ritual site from Tsong-legs-ma. The female deity of fire is ’Od-’bar-mo; We borrow the ritual site from ’Od-’bar-mo. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! The sa bdag of the sky is Bya-khyung Ka-ru; We borrow the ritual site from Bya-khyung Ka-ru. The sa bdag of the earth is sTob-po-che; We borrow the ritual site from sTob-po-che. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! [22b] The sa bdag of the east is sTag-skya-bo; We borrow the ritual site from sTag-skya-bo. The sa bdag of the south is g.Yu-’brug sNgon-mo; We borrow the ritual site from g.Yu-’brug sNgon-mo. The sa bdag of the west is Bya-dmar-po; We borrow the ritual site from Bya-dmar-po. The sa bdag of the north is Rus-sbal Kham-pa; We borrow the ritual site from Rus-sbal Kham-pa. The sa bdag of the centre is sPre’u-ser-po; We borrow the ritual site from sPre’u-ser-po. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! The lha of the element wood is to the east; We borrow the ritual site from the lha of wood. [23a] The lha of the element fire is to the south; We borrow the ritual site from the lha of fire. The lha of the element iron is to the west; We borrow the ritual site from the lha of iron. The lha of the element water is to the north; We borrow the ritual site from the lha of water. The lha of the element earth is at the four interstices; We borrow the ritual site from the lha of earth. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! May it be more than firm, but also beautiful! From the king of the year and his entourage, The minister of the months and his entourage,

The soldier of the days and his entourage, The weapon of time and his entourage, [23b] The Pleiades and all twenty-eight constellations, The eight large planets including the sun and moon, The eight trigrams and the nine geomantic points, The sa bdag of the twelve-year zodiac cycle, The lha’i bu borrow the ritual site for dancing. May the ritual site be large and not small! May it be more than large, but also firm! May it be more than firm, but also beautiful!180 Immediately following this chant, the lha to be worshipped are invited to mount the dog sa. W hat comes through strongly in these chants, as in all the rabs at Thempang and frequently also at other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, is the frequently negative and dismissive stance towards the conventional classes of spirit powers related to local places and territories. These are the bdud, klu and btsan, who are usually the subject of ‘rites of affliction’ practiced by local spirit mediums and Buddhist lamas. The deities from whom permission for the ritual site is actually sought form a unique group related instead to all the natural phenomena, elements and substances of the world. Notably, many of the leading ones in this Srid-pa’i lha chant are named, female deities. In contrast, among many groupings of bdud, klu and btsan spirits male identities usually dominate. This deity list from Thempang is also found in Pla texts from the Tawang region, from where all sources indicate many elements of the Bapu Lhasöshe originate.181

Altar Arrangement The Lhasö’i sa festival ground is oriented eastwards and the ritual events were organised into four successive zones of altars and ritual spaces facing east (fig. 19). The first zone had mats and carpets laid out for seating of the tsheshomba members in their ranked order. In front of these seating areas were a row of low, long and narrow tables upon which alcohol was served by the household women to the senior male members of each patrilineage seated first in the lines (pl. 152).

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é Figure 19. Plan of altars, offerings and seating arrangements at the Lhasö’i sa festival ground during the Thempang Lhasöshe festival of 2011.

î Plate 152. Senior tsheshomba males being served liquor in the front row of the seating area below the stone slab altars, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

Several metres in front of the serving tables, in a second zone of ordering of the ritual space, a row of slightly raised flat stone slabs which are set into the ground and run along the whole length of the seating area form a sort of long, low shelf. These stones appear to be very ancient placements in the field here. Upon them rested the tsheshomba baskets containing tshogs items, and this shelf forms the lower layer of the tshogs altar (pl. 153). The items placed on this lower layer included the baskets full of cooked grains, rice balls, flatbreads, and all the semchen naka animals and momdang naka biscuits with symbolic designs. These latter two items were mounted upon long bamboo sticks (pl. 154), the ends of which have been split into ‘branches’ such that they held sets of the animals or biscuits on display above the baskets. In front of the stone shelf of the lower altar is a crude fence which marks the boundary between the fields and the forest, and which stops livestock grazing in the forest from entering the fields. The fence is partly formed of living trees that are pruned back each winter, with barbed wire strung between them. Along this purely pragmatic fence line, an altar in the form of a frame of sticks lashed together was set up. It is important that the bark must be removed from the sticks used for this altar, and that branches of the small tree species known locally as shargremshing (Viburnum cylindricum) are used. At every point in the festival during which ancestral deities are to receive offerings, such as the lhabum and the altars described here, three fresh cut, leafy branches of the shargremshing are planted in the earth for the deities to alight upon, and to represent their presence. Branches of this ritually important tree are also used in the Srid-pa’i lha festival at Yewang as the ‘landing places’ for the deities which the bon po hold in their hands when they undertake the verbal ritual journey to bring the lha down from their sky palace. Upon this framework altar, all the remaining tshogs items that could be hung or lashed on were mounted, including all the various types of ‘wild’ fruits, the fish, and large amounts of the fried biscuits threaded together on strings. A special stick-prop topped with three forking branchlets wrapped around by a strip of cane was used to form a small ‘nest’, within which the conical cake of tshe frum or ‘tshe cheese’ was placed, and then lashed onto a pole

so that it was displayed high up on the arrangement (pl. 155). This together forms the upper layer of the tshogs altar. Finally, on the tops of the upright stick supports of the altar, the three highly decorated ritual arrows belonging to each tsheshomba were lashed (pl. 156) so that they stood like a trio of flags flying above the tsheshomba’s complete tshogs offerings laid out in front of them. These decorated arrows and the posts that they are attached to are termed dar shing, ‘flag trees’. Since the dar shing are conceived of as ‘supports’ for and/or ‘representations’ (rten) of the deities they obviously parallel the lha shing or ‘lha trees’ which are actually growing at many Srid-pa’i lha festival grounds and have the same function as supports upon which the deities can alight in a pure place. This seems to be confirmed by the fact that the ritual arrows called dar shing can only be made from the branches of the shargremshing tree. Once construction of these large and elaborate, two-layered altars was completed, a muitang altar was set up by each tsheshomba group in a third zone of the ritual space, several metres further beyond the large altars and directly in front of the lhabum shrine around which the ransom animals have been tethered for offering. The line of dar shing and tsheshomba tshogs altars represents a divide in the whole ritual space of the ceremonial ground. Any member of the worship group or public may be present behind this line. In front of this line, however, towards and surrounding the lhabum, around which the ransom animals were tethered, the space was reserved for male participants. No women may enter this space until all the rites focussed upon the lhabum, ransom animals and muitang altars are completed. There is one exception: when the offering chants are performed, the bro mo stand with the master of ceremonies and the bro pa together, although they do not perform bro steps nor utter any sound. The muitang altar is of a regional type used for rituals in the Mon-yul Corridor and in neighbouring areas of far eastern Bhutan. It consists of a set of items for offering fine hospitality to deities, and this is borne out in the etymology of the written Tibetan term as it occurs in local texts.182 This set typically includes fine locally woven cloth that is most often of

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î Plate 153. Preparing ransom items for the lower altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

î Plate 154. Semchen naka or ‘animal species’ ransom items mounted on sticks for offering, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

ê Plate 155. Tsheshomba tshogs offerings hanging from the upper altar, with the white, conical ritual cake of ‘life cheese’ upon a prop stick at top centre, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

raw silk, items of women’s jewellery, such as silver bracelets, items of men’s accoutrement, but especially swords or knives, old metal bowls and plates which are often embossed, a range of cooked and raw foodstuffs, pots of locally brewed (both fermented and distilled) liquor, incense, and bunches of small flags (pan shing) mounted on short sticks. Frequently, when a muitang altar is constructed for other types of rites, the lengths of fine woven cloth are hung on a rail behind the altar to form a screen or backdrop, although this is not done at the Bapu Lhasöshe. All the muitang components were simply placed in a compact and ordered fashion directly upon the ground facing the lhabum (pl. 157).

Presentation of Offerings Once all altars had been set up, the ritual specialists offered them to the deities with a series of chants by the lama and accompanying bro by the bro pa. As is the case with most

ritual practice in Srid-pa’i lha worship, the procedures used in addition to chanting and bro were relatively simple. The main offering is performed with all the participants facing north-east towards La-chong’s hill-ridge residence across the valley, with the four bro pa in front and just to the right of the lhabum shrine, the two bro mo standing behind them and the lama off to everyone’s right. Directly in front of the lhabum a separate muitang altar was set up for the master of ceremonies and his party. Several metres behind all of this, the Khamsong prahme sat in front of the lhabum (pl. 158) with a banana leaf on the ground for his altar, and cooked rice, a dried fish and a pot of alcohol upon it as components of his offering rite for ata Jowodi. At least for the initial stages of the offering process, virtually none of the male public attended these rites, although as far as I was aware they were not expressly forbidden to be there. The offering of gifts to the deities was made in a long sequence. First, the lha were emphatically told not to go to

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î Plate 156. Attaching ‘flag trees’ (dar shing) for the top of the altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

any of the places at the four cardinal directions named in the origin myth, but instead to come immediately to the festival ground (fig. 17, no. 13). For example: To the north of the sun is the place called Great Meadow. There are no gifts at the Great Meadow! This place of worship is the one! Innate deities, Remain here! Great lha, don’t delay.’183 Then followed chanting of the Narrative of the Dice Game (Sho rabs) (fig. 17, no. 14) to explain why, of all the Srid-pa’i lha, it is ’O-de Gung-rgyal and his emanation who descend to the altar. The next chant was to install the deities at the stone lhabum shrine (fig. 17, no. 15) in the centre of the sacred grove. Then the muitang offering was presented (pl. 159). The actual offering included all the complex food items

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upon the large two-layered altar, as well as those items laid out upon the ground constituting the muitang itself. The whole offering process is accompanied by characteristic appeals for patrilineal fertility (tshe), as well as other mundane benefits found in Srid-pa’i lha rites everywhere (fig. 17, no. 16): [28a...]

Now, we offer the mos gtang upward, And when we offer the mos gtang upward, lHa ’O-de Gung-rgyal listen! Phu bzang La-chong listen! As a portion of the ransom,184 as many stars as are in the sky, We offer upwards the heavens filled with them! As a portion of the ransom, as many grains of sand as are upon the earth, We offer upwards the earth covered with them!

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

é Plate 157. Laying out the muitang altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. è Plate 158. The Khamsong prahme during the sheep offering for ata Jowodi, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

[28b]

As a portion of the ransom, as many waves as are in the rivers, We offer upwards the rivers filled with them! As a portion of the ransom, as many leaves as are upon the trees, We offer upwards the leafy trees covered in them! This great fish from the Har-kyi-pho river in mDo-yul,185 We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability!186 These different silks from the land of China, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability!

[29a]

This valuable gold from the land of Nepal, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This silver statue from the land of bSha’-rtse,187 We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This offering bowl of rice porridge, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This ocean of rice beer and milk, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This offering of yogurt, butter and fresh cheese, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This offering of a small golden-eyed fish, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability!

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î Plate 159. Bro pa and bro mo performing bro in front of muitang altars during the offering chants, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

These roasted grains in a decorated bag,188 We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This kha zi that is complete with various ingredients,189 We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This collection of five types of men’s accoutrements, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This collection of nine types of women’s ornaments, We offer upwards to you, lha chen! Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! Accept up above all of these choicest offerings! Please send down every kind of wealth and ability! The bro-stepping lha’i bu brothers and sisters, Offer [it all] upwards with the gestures of our hands!

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[29b]

We offer [it all] upwards with the bro steps of our feet! Thus, for the patient, the sponsor and their fellows, Make the rains fall in the monsoon season! Make the crops and cattle always good! Make the fruits ripen in the harvest season! Allay human illnesses and livestock diseases! Don’t let there be obstructions to tshe! Don’t let the vital force be cut off by death! Guard us well during the three periods of the day! Remain close to us during the three periods of the night! We entreat you! We worship you! Let the innate deities, Be our friend, protector and remedy!190

Following that, the lha’i bu – as the bro pa and bro mo are referred to in the chants – offered their entire costume and

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

accoutrements to the deities as their own special ransom items (fig. 17, no. 17): [29b...] O ha’i!

Now, the costumes of the lha’i bu are offered upwards as a ransom!191 When offering the ransom upwards, This rigs lnga that is worn on the head, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This white hat that is worn on the head, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This bamboo arrow that grows in the highlands, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! For the white silk scarf purchased from the land of the lha, It was a zho192 each for every silk chest ornament.193 This white silk scarf, that cost one zho each, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! For the red silk scarf purchased from the land of the btsan, [30b] It was a zho each for every broad length of silk. This red silk scarf, that cost one zho each, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! For the blue silk scarf purchased from the land of the klu, It was a zho each for every broad length of silk. This blue silk scarf, that cost one zho each, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! For the black silk scarf purchased from the land of the bdud, [30a]

It was a zho each for every broad length of silk. This black silk scarf, that cost one zho each, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! For the patterned silk scarf purchased from the land of human beings, It was a zho each for every broad length of silk. This patterned silk scarf, that cost one zho each, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This feather head-ornament with beautiful gri lam,194 Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This beautiful small-eyed 195 peacock feather, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! [31a] It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This feather head-ornament of white cock, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! These earrings with layered coral and turquoise, Are offered upwards to you, lha chen! They are mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! These garlands of metal and conch hung around the neck,196 Are offered upwards to you, lha chen! They are mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This multi-coloured raiment197 that is worn on the right, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This necklace of conch that is worn on the left, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability!

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These brooches198 of iron and copper, Are offered upwards to you, lha chen! They are mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This white cloth 199 that is worn on the body, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This beautiful girdle around the midriff,200 [31b] Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This tasselled shoulder cape,201 Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This amulet box that hangs at the side, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! These bootstraps which are affixed to the legs, Are offered upwards to you, lha chen! They are mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! This toll of the bell that reinforces the chant, Is offered upwards to you, lha chen! It is mine, the ransom of the bro pa and bro mo. Please send down tshe, wealth and ability! For the lha’i bu bro pa and their retinue: Let our minds be free of suffering! Let there be no obstructions to tshe! Let the vital force not be cut off by death! Let us be free of bad omens and violent dreams!202 [32a] Let the words from our mouths be free of dispute! We entreat you! We worship you! The innate deities Must powerfully aid and protect us!203 Finally, the mithun bull and the other ransom animals were offered to the deities. This chant proceeds according to their ritual status as expressed in the glud origin myth: the lama, bro pa and bro mo offered the mithun to the lha; the tsangmi the cow to lDum-ri; and Khamsong prahme the sheep to Jowodi (fig. 17, no. 18):

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Shaa ha’i shaa ha’i On this day, today, This mithun bull that is most handsome, For the healing rite of the male patient’s body, For the healing rite of the female patient’s body, For the healing rite of the male patient’s body, For the healing rite of the female patient’s body This fine mithun bull is offered upwards! Those to the right who are unhappy will have happiness. Those to the left who are unhappy will have happiness. Those who are out of breath will have breath to draw. Those who are unsatisfied will have satisfaction. This fine mithun bull is offered to the lha.204

Ritual Costumes as Ransom Items Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of this series of chants above is the offering of each component of the ritual specialists’ own costumes and accoutrements as a ransom. Indeed, this aspect of the ransom process seems to have once been far more highly developed than it was at the time of my research. Since I was able to record in detail what constituted the ritual garb and equipment of bro pa and bro mo at Thempang in 2011, it was clear from comparison with the written rabs that many items being offered in the text were no longer part of the bro pa and bro mo costumes. Other indications of what the Thempang bro pa costume should have once included in the past can be gained from ethnographic photographs of bro pa costumes used during the now defunct Pla festivals at Lhau in Tawang. The range of brooches, necklaces, earrings, garlands and raiments of precious and semi-precious metals and stones cited in the chant text as belonging to the bro pa and bro mo costumes is visible on ethnographic photographs of bro pa costumes from Lhau being worn during April 1980 (pl. 160). Furthermore, an indication that these items dropped out of use quite some time ago is that certain specialist terms used to name them are no longer understood in Thempang, and hence have been difficult to interpret.

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

The somewhat undefined role of the bro mo during Lhasöshe became more understandable in relation to the offering of their costumes as ransom items. The richly attired bro mo spent almost the entire duration of their performance merely standing together with the bro pa while the latter actively stepped and chanted. Yet, they were standing there as pure bearers of tangible ransom items. The headgear worn by the bro mo is a complex fillet of silver chains featuring a convex, silver disk with concentric circles as centrepiece and semiprecious stones mounted upon it (pl. 161). Although it is not actually mentioned within the chant text, it has strong cultural significance throughout the region. I was told more than once that this headpiece was part of “ancient Monpa culture”. Knowledgeable informants explained that the same style of headpiece was once worn by the mother of the Sixth Dalai Lama, Tshe-dbang lHa-mo, who hailed from a Jo-bo clan household in the Berkhar hamlet of central Tawang. A branch of that clan had migrated to Dirang to become one of the Bapu-titled, Srid-pa’i lha worshipping clans of the area. A clay statue of Tshe-dbang lHa-mo of undetermined age that I saw at Kushangnang (CT sku zhang nang, lit. ‘maternal uncle [i.e., of the Sixth Dalai Lama] house’), the family home of her lineage at Berkhar, indeed depicts her wearing one of these headpieces (pl. 162). An identical women’s fillet headpiece is used by female performers in Srid-pa’i lha festivals far to the west in the Kurtö valley of Bhutan (pl. 163).205 The northern examples have a far thinner band of fillet chains than the southern ones. In Dakpa, it is sometimes referred to as the khraseng, literally ‘hair garter/strap’. There seems no doubt that this headpiece is an aspect of a much older regional culture represented by worship communities of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and it has for the most part survived within those communities in the form of festival costumes due to the inherent conservatism of the cult. It is perhaps noteworthy, that available historical photographs of the Mon-yul Corridor consistently show this particular type of fillet headpiece worn by women from the southern-most parts of the region. When social identities are given for these photographs, the wearers are Bugun women (pl. 164) and Aka women. Bugun call the fillet headpiece bothong and Aka call it lenchhi, and such items are recorded as having been made on the Assam plains to the south and obtained by these populations via trade.206 One additional feature of the ethnographically known

examples of this headgear is the common placement of turquoise stones in the middle of the central, concave silver disk embellished with concentric circles. In Tibetan Plateau areas to the north, such a turquoise worn upon the head in this manner, and sometimes called thod g.yu or ‘forehead/crown of the head turquoise’, certainly relates to beliefs about the preservation of the personal vitality principle (bla).207 Other almost identical examples of this turquoise-studded silver disk headpiece, but without the fillet, are worn by women in parts of central Tibet and have also been recorded from Sikkim.208

Communal Feasting When all offerings had been presented to the deities, the senior men of each tsheshomba group took their seats immediately behind the line of low tables below the altars. Behind them sat lower ranked men and boys. They were served alcohol by senior women of their households according to their order of status (pl. 152). Following this, a communal meal was served to the more than hundred and fifty participants present. When the mealtime was completed, people milled around in the field behind the seating area and socialised. Since some portion of Bapu individuals and households had already migrated out of the village due to work, schooling and marriage, this period was a chance to meet those who had returned to Thempang especially for the Lhasöshe. While the festivities progressed, the head changnyerpa and his assistants roamed the crowds and selected three teenage girls whom they appointed to serve in the role of zi for the remaining days of the festival. While suitable candidates had no doubt been considered in advance, and their families consulted, some of the girls were extremely reluctant to accept the position (pl. 165). Since the zi must participate as ‘brides’ in a mock public marriage ceremony, parts of which involve obvious sexual symbolism, shyness may have been a factor in attempting to avoid the role. However, personal choice can play no part here, and the community regard zi duty as compulsory once the head changnyerpa has appointed a girl. Behind any social pressure, there is also

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î Plate 160. Bro pa in costume with jewellery at the Pla festival, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. é Plate 161. Bro mo costume items for Bapu Lhasöshe, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

é Plate 162. Statue of Tshe-dbang lHa-mo, mother of the Sixth Dalai Lama, Kushangnang, Berkhar village, Tawang, late 1970s.209

é Plate 163. Women’s Srid-pa’i lha festival costume with the fillet headpiece and red woollen kushung or leushingka tunic, Shawa village, Kurtö, 2012.

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the belief that not fulfilling ritual duties properly during Lhasöshe is inauspicious, and may offend the deities with possible negative consequences. Following the meal and socialising, the lama who acted as master of ceremonies chanted and stepped bro together with the bro pa and bro mo to dispatch the deities. The lha were asked to ‘rise upward’ (yar bzhengs) and ‘depart’ (gshegs) back to their own abodes. At this point, a last request was made to them for tshe, wealth and food on behalf of the worshippers. Immediately after the deities were presumed to have departed upwards, the master of ceremonies chanted what amounts to a kind of total closure or sealing of the link between lha and humans (fig. 17, no. 19): The golden door is firmly closed with silver. The silver door is firmly closed with copper. The copper door is firmly closed with iron. The iron door is firmly closed with wood. Now, we will not meet to invite you [again] for a twelve-year cycle.210 é Plate 164. Bugun woman wearing the bothong fillet, West Kameng, 1968.

é Plate 165. Changnyerpa selecting a reluctant zi candidate following the communal feast at the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

Following this closure chant there is a short eulogy to the nine-storied celestial stronghold of the lha, which is where they are imagined to have just departed. This chant is in fact a final appeal by the lha’i bu to obtain life powers from them (fig. 17, no. 20): Aa haa’i Aa haa’i! Now, the nine-storied divine stronghold of the lha, Looks like it is embossed into the space of the blue sky. A flagpole at its pinnacle, spu ru ru. Mirrors on its four sides, ta la la. Bells at its four corners, si li li. Tshe and g.yang inside it, me re re. Tshe rice porridge, zhu ru ru. Tshe beer nectar, khyil li li. Please give tshe to the lha’i bu as well. Please give g.yang to the lha’i bu as well. Please give wealth to the lha’i bu as well. Please give food to the lha’i bu as well. Please give sons to the lha’i bu as well.

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Please give excellent abilities211 for [maintaining] a peaceful life. Please give excellent abilities for magically creating wealth. Please give excellent abilities for [producing] sweet tasting food. Please give excellent abilities for strong servants. Please give excellent abilities for intense strength. Please give excellent abilities for humans, wealth and food, all three. Please send down all excellent abilities! 212 At this point, all the altars and tshogs offering items are deconstructed and stored back in the tsheshomba baskets. They must be carried back up to the tsheshomba households and placed in the main room of the house in preparation for the rites of the coming evening. As the lama and his party begin the farewell rites for the deities, all the tsheshomba groups must depart the Lhasö’i sa ground in a procession which has the exact reverse order of that which they arrived by. The lama group are thus the last to leave the site. They finally chant the returning of the ritual ground (fig. 17, no. 21) to those non-human beings from whom they borrowed it upon arrival at the sacred grove.

Household Blessing and Distribution of Offerings During the early evening, the groups of ritual specialists went from one tsheshomba lhabrang to the next in an ongoing succession of visits until each group had visited every house. These visits proceeded in the strictly ranked order of ritual status used in the earlier rites, with the lama, bro pa and bro mo group first, then the zi apa with zi ‘brides’ and their prospective tsangmi ‘grooms’, then the tsangmi chilu, and finally the Khamsong prahme and his assistant. The houses themselves were visited according to their order of ranking as tsheshomba lhabrang used in the procession. The purpose of these visits was to directly confer the blessings that each ritual specialist group presided over or embodied upon the tsheshomba patrilineage within the domestic space of the main house that represents its members. In return, each ritual specialist group was hosted by the

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socially senior woman of the house and received a portion of the tsheshomba tshogs from the patrilineage. Since this blessing and tshogs distribution entails over fifty individual house visits in total, it continued late into the night before being completed. The tsheshomba blessing rites always take place at the hearth place in the main room of the house. This is the centre of the domestic microcosm and focus of certain mundane rites and ritual concerns, particularly purity and associations with ancestry and descent (the religious counterpoint of the hearth is the separate Buddhist altar or shrine room elsewhere within the house). Traditional houses in the area have their largest clay hearth built against the back wall of the main room, which should ideally face north. Directly above the hearth a vertical series of wooden drying racks (grempang in Dirang Tshangla) are hung. In premodern times, seating around the hearth had a fixed order based upon social rank, although this has often broken down nowadays. In my experience in the Dirang area, honoured guests are usually seated to the left side of the hearth when facing directly at it, with the highest ranked persons placed closest to the hearth. The ritual centrality of the hearth, its orientation within the house, its drying racks, and ranked seating are all universal features incorporated into house design among many populations dwelling along the extended eastern Himalayas. They are the main coordinates for rites of Srid-pa’i lha worship within the house throughout the region, including those to be described now. I observed the full cycle of these visits within one tsheshomba lhabrang of the Sharchokpa clan. The ceremonies took place in the main room of the house, the same room in which the tsheshomba baskets were prepared before the procession and in which they are stored afterwards against the wall directly opposite the hearth. Prior to the initial arrival of the lama group, in the main room a large basin (tow) filled with fermented bangchang, which was phud or strong first brew, was set up in the centre of the room atop the wooden mortar which every household has for husking and pounding grains within. Carpets were placed in a line to the left of the hearth for the ritual specialists to sit as guests and be

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

hosted. The women of the house divided a portion of the tshogs to be distributed to the lama party and placed it in bags. When the lama group approached the house, the lama chanted as the bro pa and bro mo performed bro up the steps and entered the main door. As was the case throughout much of the 2011 Bapu Lhasöshe, the lama incumbent was inebriated and thus unable to chant properly. At the threshold of the house, I recorded that he managed only a line and a half of the following full chant written in the text, which is used to confirm the ritual success of the offerings for those inside the household (fig. 17, no. 23): Aa haa’i! Aa haa’i! When we went today, the door was [small like] a cowrie shell. Now when we return, the door is [large like] a conch shell. It is as if the conch door is open, and tshe has been delivered213 [through it]. Tshe has been passed on to male worshippers214 who lack tshe. Tshe has been passed on to female worshippers who lack tshe. Aa haa’i! When we went for today’s Aa haa’i, the door was made of brass. Now when we return, the door is made of gold. It is as if the gold door is open, and g.yang has been delivered [through it]. g.Yang has been passed on to male worshippers who lack g.yang. g.Yang has been passed on to female worshippers who lack g.yang. When we went for today’s Aa haa’i, the door was made of tin.215 Now when we return, the door is made of silver. It is as if the silver door is open, and wealth has been delivered [through it]. Wealth has been passed on to male worshippers who lack wealth. Wealth has been passed on to female worshippers who lack wealth.

When we went for today’s Aa haa’i, the door was made of stone. Now when we return, the door is made of turquoise. It is as if the turquoise door is open, and food has been delivered [through it]. Food has been passed on to male worshippers who lack food. Food has been passed on to female worshippers who lack food.216 Once inside the room, the lama continued chanting incoherently although the four bro pa and two bro mo performed their proper clockwise circular movement performance called bro around the basin of alcohol standing in the room’s centre, loudly chanting the Aa haa’i! refrain. During this performance, and in contrast to any others they had undertaken at the festival ground, the bro pa stamp upon the floorboards with emphatic steps that are akin to a small leap in the air with a loud footfall. This type of emphatic bro step or stomp is always performed in Srid-pa’i lha rites when lha’i bu or ritually related performers bless the interior of the domestic space (cf. chs. 8, 10). They can stamp as strongly as possible, and even publicly admit they are trying to break the floorboards, something that would in fact be regarded as auspicious. The ritual specialists were then all seated upon the carpets in ranked order, with the lama next to the hearth, followed by the head bro pa, and his fellow male bro pa, and finally the bro mo. They were served alcohol directly from the hands of the senior household woman who held it to their mouths in makeshift banana leaf cups for purity. They were also offered dried fish. Some of the party were very cautious about drinking since they knew this procedure would have to be repeated in each of the tsheshomba house throughout the evening, and apart from the minimal ritual gesture of offering three drops to the deities using their fingers, the bro mo refused to accept any liquor. For their share of the tshogs, large trays filled with khabsey and popped maize (khakom) are set in front of the lama party, and a dried fish each. This is all gathered into a sack by a helper to be carried away to the lama lhabrang for later division. The lama, bro pa and bro mo must afterwards offer all of this to La-chong on the tsheshomba’s behalf so that tshe and

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g.yang flow to the tsheshomba. The lama party then departed quickly for the next house on their itinerary. At this point, the tsangmi chilu should have been the next to visit the house. However, since the position is a hereditary one within the Atajipu clan who boycotted the Bapu Lhasöshe during 2011, this visit did not occur. Next in order, the zi apa with zi ‘brides’ and their prospective tsangmi ‘grooms’ arrived at the house and entered into the main room. Prior to their arrival, the large bowl of liquor in the room’s centre from the lama party’s visit had been exchanged for a bowl of clean spring water. This is kept filled to a high level as a mark of auspiciousness (half empty containers are inauspicious and proscribed during Lhasöshe). The zi apa held a long thin banana leaf shoot as a wand while the zi and tsangmi each held leafy stems of the main ‘deity tree’ (lha shing) of the species named shargremshing. The zi apa party circumambulated this basin clockwise while performing lustrations with the water around the room using the wand and shargremshing branches. Short chants were made for the general fertility, long-life and prosperity of the tsheshomba. The lustration waters covered the domestic space as well as the tsheshomba members themselves. They were then seated left of the hearth in ranked order and served alcohol and dried fish, with the liquor simply placed in front of them in plastic cups. The party were given uncooked rice and parcels of food (mainly dried vegetables) wrapped in banana leaves, as well as khabsey and khakom. There is no reference to the zi group within the ritual text. The zi group signifies affinal relations. Their role was only acted out fully on the following day by way of a mock marriage rite in which they wed ‘husbands’ (see below). As marriage partners, they represent ideally or properly ordered affinal relations between the four Bapu clans, as well as the continuity of lineage and the procreative potential that entails. In any case, when they departed the house, the zi and tsangmi deposited their stems of shargremshing within the grempang or drying rack above the hearth. They did this with fresh stems of shargremshing they had just used for lustration and blessing at each tsheshomba lhabrang in turn,

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such that each patriline has a portion of lha shing deposited directly at its ancestral ritual site within the house. This seemingly minor detail is central in importance from a comparative perspective. We find it repeated, in various ways, in all intact Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals within a great arch that spans settlements from Thempang up to Tawang and across as far west as the village of Lawa at the mouth of the Khoma Chu valley. Still further variations upon the same theme, but focused upon carved wood phalluses of the lha (also called lha shing), also extend over much of the rest of the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s distribution region. In all cases, it is these wooden objects, whether tree branches or carved phalluses, which carry the deity’s life powers of procreation and protection for the descent group. The final visit to the house for blessing rites was that by the Khamsong prahme and his ritual assistant. Prior to their arrival, the bowl of water was removed and the large bowl of alcohol was reinstalled at the centre of the room in front of the hearth place. The Khamsong prahme held a banana leaf shoot as a wand for lustration, while his assistant used the branch of another type of leafy tree species completely unrelated to the shargremshing featuring in other aspects of Lhasöshe. They both walked anticlockwise around the bowl flicking libations of alcohol from it into the air and chanting to ata Jowodi in a Sartang Kho-bwa language that nobody present in the room understood. They were then served alcohol by the household hosts, and the Khamsong prahme will openly praise the liquor if the quality is good, which is an auspicious sign. The two ritual specialists receive the same tshogs items as the previous parties had been given. There is no reference to the Khamsong prahme in the ritual text, and informant interpretations of the blessing they were meant to confer upon the tsheshomba varied, but primarily to protect the household from accidents, especially fire. Once the Khamsong prahme departed the house, the rites of the day are completed for the tsheshomba.

11.6 Festival Day Two Since no rites directly related to the Srid-pa’i lha are staged on Day Two of the festival, and thus no ritual texts from the

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

manuscript chanted, I merely give a short sketch of the program here. Day Two began with further tshogs distribution at the tsheshomba houses, this time for the changnyerpa group who visited each one in turn. Usually the items they receive are the same as those given to the zi party and the Khamsong prahme. However, because of the Atajipu clan’s boycott of the 2011 festival, the changnyerpa group were not hosted by them and dwelt instead in a community house at the village centre. To compensate for the absent host the other three clans agreed that the changnyerpa group should receive half of each basket of tshog, plus five bre (one bre = ca. 0.7 kilogram) of uncooked rice, five hrang (a local weight; eight hrang = one kilogram) of sheep meat, plus a bowl of corn meal from each tsheshomba. Four changnyerpa went to each house to make the collection, and they were hosted to fermented and distilled liquor and a serving of kha zi on banana leaves at each stop. They perform no rites in the house. The morning was taken up with various activities. At the tsheshomba lhabrang house in the village, a f lag mounted upon a long pole (pan shing) was made by each tsheshomba lhabrang for the procession and rites at Rizang Thangka later during the day (pl. 166). There was also a complex distribution of tshogs in which a woman from each tsheshomba gave a portion to every household within the village. In preparation for the ritual marriage on Day Three, the zi apa, zi ‘brides’ and their tsangmi ‘grooms’ visited each tsheshomba household to collect a donation of one full bucket of fermented maize mash (parmin) to use for brewing the wedding beer. During the middle of the day, several changnyerpa were stationed inside the southern gate of the village which had a rope barrier drawn across it. Behind this, the tsheshomba procession had to form up to process down to the Rizang Thangka. The order of the procession was the same as used on Day One to the Lhasö’i sa. When the tsheshomba processed, they each carried with them their own flag representing their lhabrang and erected this at their respective seating places facing north-east. There were ten f lags in total since the three Atajipu tsheshomba had boycotted the public events. The seating was ordered the same as at the Lhasö’i sa. The bro pa and bro mo performed a short bro in

front of the gathering to prepare the dog sa for offerings to ata Jowodi. These consisted of a meat sausage chopped into small pieces and specially made from a sheep killed for the occasion,217 together with bangchang liquor. Every Bapu person present had to eat at least one piece of this meat. This part of the proceedings had all the hallmarks of the use of the meat from a hunted wild animal or from a sheep sacrifice as a substitute found at other sites which are often related to the nawan rites (see ch. 13). It is highly likely that the original ritual hunt and/or sacrifice found at most other Dirang area sites of the cult had been abandoned at Thempang, the domestic butchering of a sheep and compulsory participation in its meat via the sausage from it is the transformed outcome. Beyond comparisons, there are other precedents for thinking this. Only a few years prior to my fieldwork, another annual rite of expulsion at Thempang called Hoshina included a sacrifice that was then abandoned due to pressure by a Buddhist lama to stop killing animals for ritual purposes, and a substitute consisting of an effigy was introduced in response. Moreover, elderly informants also recalled that rites for successful hunting of the type known as nawan elsewhere, and which are still performed at other neighbouring sites of the cult around Dirang district, were also formally practiced at Thempang (cf. ch. 13). They had ceased decades beforehand. There was a communal feast for all the tsheshomba members at the ritual ground. Every member of the worship community was then given a share of the sheep meat sausage. A tripod was set up to hold a large, embossed silver bowl, and into this, the senior household woman from each tsheshomba poured their offering of bangchang. The Khamsong prahme offered it to Jowodi, and the bro pa and bro mo then moved around the tripod with bro steps. Finally, the tsheshomba procession departed in reverse order back up to the village through the stone gate, and the rites of Day Two came to an end.

11.7 Festival Day Three The main event of Day Three was the staging of an elaborate – and often hilariously acted out – mock marriage (nyen)

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between zi ‘brides’ and tsangmi ‘grooms’. This included all the main stages found in any customary marriage negotiation transacted between bride-givers and bride-takers as found in the main Tshangla speaking communities of Dirang district. There were, however, some added components specific to the Lhasöshe context. As with the program related to clan identities and exchange during Day Two, no aspects of the events during Day Three are referenced within the Lhasöshe manuscript. According to informant explanations, the point of the mock marriage harks back to the various origin myths of the Bapu clans at Thempang that I presented above. The Bapu ancestor who was first appointed in Tibet and taken southward down to Thempang had four sons, each of whom became recognised as the ancestor-founder of one of the four Bapu clans at Thempang. The myths state that, despite Bapu attempts to forge affinal alliances with their various ethnic neighbours throughout the region, failure and conflict always ensued. This resulted in the decision to practice a form of village endogamy. The four related descent lineages from the four ancestral sons agreed to separate into four named, exogamous tshan who would henceforth intermarry. The four zi ‘brides’ and four tsangmi ‘husbands’ who should ideally participate come from each of the four Bapu clans. Since each ‘marries’ an opposite sex partner from another tshan, the mock marriage as interpreted at Thempang in 2011 was supposed to invoke both the mythical foundations of preferential village endogamy and the inviolability of clan exogamy among the Bapu. It is also in this public ritual exchange of clan females that the full force of the double meaning of both ‘younger sister’ and ‘wife’ inherent in the ambiguous kin term zi is most clearly revealed – Bapu clan sisters are exchanged as wives between tshan. Yet, the mock marriage embodies more than just the Bapu clans reflecting upon their own ideal interrelations. It also projects clear allusions to fertility and procreation as the foundation of lineage continuity, and this is something which is actively displayed – often in similar types of ‘performance’

7 Plate 166. Tsheshomba lhabrang flags at the Rizang Thangka, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

or sportive ‘play’ – at nearly all Srid-pa’i lha festivals at one point or another. For the mock marriage, the changnyerpa performed the crucial role of the go-between (bar mi), and thus the events began when the zi apa took his zi ‘daughters’ to the community house for the necessary negotiations with the bride takers. Within the main room at the community house, all the principal ritual actors were present together with their assistants, yet there were no members of the public. As the protagonists sat in the traditional seating arrangement for conducting hospitality, portions of dried meat and cheese were weighed out using a hand-held balance and given as gifts by the changnyerpa to the zi apa on behalf of the tsangmi suitors. The zi meanwhile sat upon the laps of the changnyerpa and demanded more meat from them, and finally the zi apa and zi jested that the quantities were so great they would be unable to carry them back home. Normally, for a woman to be openly seated upon a man’s lap would be a proscribed behaviour in public, as it is even in the context of any communally occupied space within the family home with the exception of young female children and their closest male family members. In the context of the mock marriage, the act between zi ‘daughters’ and changnyerpa go-betweens is considered part of the joking spirit of the performance. Yet, it is also clearly an acute reference to the impending status transformation of the zi girls from non-sexual into sexually active and fertile woman within the community. The same symbolism appeared again in an even more acute form during the next phase of the ‘marriage’. The zi apa escorted his zi ‘daughters’ back to their lhabrang, and the head changnyerpa then dispatched a young woman carrying invitation beer to them as the traditional messenger who invited them back again for a lunch feast. Following this meal, the zi apa and zi returned home once again. Then the changnyerpa escorted the tsangmi ‘grooms’ to the zi apa lhabrang to deliver their norsha or traditional ‘bride price’ to the zi apa ‘father-in-law’.218 The ideal norsha for a real marriage proposal consists at a minimum of one bovine animal plus a leg of meat from another domestic animal, such as a sheep. For the mock marriage, the complete norsha was only a very small, dried fish some ten centimetres long.

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î Plate 167. Bearers struggling to carry the tiny norsha fish to the zi apa lhabrang, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

î Plate 168. Zi ‘wife’ feeding the wedding meal to her new tsangmi ‘husband’ using a wooden spoon carved with sexual organs, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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This was nevertheless tied to a long, very stout bamboo pole and then carried by six male bearers. They mimicked that the norsha was tremendously heavy, barely able to be supported by six men, and swayed and stumbled constantly on their slow journey down the narrow village lanes leading from the community house towards the zi apa lhabrang (pl. 167). Large crowds of onlookers gathered to watch the act and high spirits prevailed. As the ‘groom’ party climbed the steps to the entrance of the zi apa lhabrang, they were each beaten with freshly cut nettle branches as they passed before entering the door, to drive off any negative spirits or bad luck which may try to enter the house with them. Once inside the main room, which was by then crowded with onlookers, the norsha and the youngest zi ‘bride’ and tsangmi ‘groom’ were picked up and tossed high into the air a few times by the crowd. They were finally lifted

onto the drying rack that hung just beneath the ceiling of the room. From the perspective of facing the hearth, the zi apa and his ‘daughters’ were then seated on the right side of the hearth while the changnyerpa and tsangmi ‘grooms’ as honoured guests were seated on the left side. At this point the final marriage negotiations were settled amid many jokes as the two parties faced each other across the hearth. The wedding feast was then staged, and the new zi ‘wives’ crossed the room and seated themselves upon the laps of their new tsangmi ‘husbands’ in another graphic display of normally proscribed behaviour. Each zi then fed her husband their feast meals with a specially carved wooden spoon (pl. 168) amidst uproarious laughter from the crowded room. These spoons have the shapes of a penis and a vulva carved upon the ends of their handles (pl. 169), and this final stage of the mock marriage undoubtedly signified its sexual consummation.

ê Plate 169. Male and female genitalia symbols carved on wooden spoons for the mock marriage, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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Final Rites Following the mock marriage, an exact repeat of the flagbearing procession by the tsheshomba on Day Two was made via the stone gate of the village down to Rizang Thangka, at which the same seating arrangements as the previous day were continued. A second communal feast was staged at which the members of each Bapu tshan demonstrated a local form of noblesse oblige. The feast was hosted by members of each Gila pseudo-clan for the respective tsheshomba groups within the Bapu clans they were partnered with. Everything the Gila offered the Bapu was carefully noted down, because the Bapu would have to offer their Gila partners the same amount or more during the latter’s own major festival to worship A-ma Jo-mo, which is always staged two calendar months after a Bapu Lhasöshe. This second feast was the only example of exchange during the Lhasöshe in which an at least potential asymmetry was apparent. During the communal feast of Day Two, in the round of Bapu tsheshomba hosting each other, and for the distributions of tshogs offering shares to the ritual specialist parties, everybody had contributed an equal share and received the same treatment as recipients. This was the case during all other cult festivals I observed (cf. chs. 9, 10), in which equal communal input and egalitarian sharing was the prominent value, rather than exchange being related to generating ranking or reifying hierarchical distinctions. In the middle of the Rizang Thangka, a tripod was set up to support an old-fashioned metal bowl, and each tsheshomba poured some fermented liquor into it. The bro pa and bro mo circled anticlockwise around this as the lama chanted a final farewell to the deities. At the end of this short sequence the bro pa made a series of chong or ‘jumping’ steps away from the offering bowl and the whole ritual specialist party simply continued walking away from the Rizang Thangka without looking back. They skirted the village, climbed the hill to the north, and arrived in the field immediately behind the lama’s own house on the hillside above the village, where carpets and low tables had been set up. They were hosted to liquor and snacks by members of their households, and then commenced the final rites for the party of ritual specialists. This involved the disassembly of the bro pa’s ritual headgear

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and the removal of their costumes for storage. We have seen above that this headgear called bya ru and rigs lnga was of importance since its parts form the seats or supports for various auxiliaries who are invoked for protection during the rites. When the bro pa removed their headgear and slowly began to detach the five kusha grass stalks, the peacock feathers, the top ornament and silk scarves, the lama chanted the final sections of the ritual text entitled ‘How the bya ru are disassembled’ (Bya ru shig tshul). This series of four short chants is comprised of verses in which omens occurring in dreams and divinations are set out in relation to the departure of the bya ru – meaning the auxiliary deities in this context – while the idealised departure of the components of the headgear back to their sites of origin are also narrated. Although the verses are somewhat obscure and difficult to translate, here I attempt to gloss two short samples to reveal their character. Moreover, I do so because close variations of these verses are also chanted in relation to palo devices used in Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals among Dzala speaking communities in the far north-east of Bhutan.219 The palo device, which was originally a piece of headgear (see ch. 17), is, like the bya ru, used as a support for the auxiliary deities. The same verses used in common ritual contexts at these two sites which are some 140 kilometres distant as the crow flies, demonstrate much older connections of cultural history between the cult’s textual traditions in ostensibly unrelated areas. However, we do know for certain that these two distant regions hosted members of the same founder clans who migrated from the southernmost Tibetan Plateau. The first type of verse relates to the departing bya ru (fig. 17, no. 25): Aa Haa’i! When the bya ru have gone into the midst of the sky, They sleep one period in the midst of the sky. In the dream of this sleeping period The sky is seen as obscured by clouds. The sun’s display is seen as tears. The dream is not good, it is bad. Have no trust in the dream itself. When the bya ru have gone to the top of the hill ridge,

The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

They sleep one period at the top of the hill ridge. In the dream of this sleeping period The hill ridge is seen as being cut off by the snows. The [snow]lion’s display is seen as tears. The dream is not good, it is bad. Have no trust in the dream itself. When the bya ru have gone to the top of the meadow, They sleep one period at the top of the meadow. In the dream of this sleeping period The meadow is seen as burnt by a fire. The stag’s display is seen as tears. The dream is not good, it is bad. Have no trust in the dream itself.220 The second type of verse concerns return of the components of the male bro pa headgear back to their sites of origin (fig. 17, no. 27): Aa Haa’i! This bamboo arrow shaft, which was cut from the highlands, Has gone to the place of highland bamboo arrow shafts. This beautiful small-eyed peacock feather, Has gone to the place of beautiful peacocks. These various silk scarves of the realm of nets,221 Have gone to the place that is the realm of nets. This feather head-ornament of white cock, Has gone to the realm of the white cock. This feather head-ornament of the beautiful gri lam [disk ornament atop the headgear], Has gone to the place of the beautiful gri lam.222 Once disassembly of the headgear and costumes was completed, the lama group wore their ordinary clothing and went back down to join the tsheshomba assembly at Rizang Thangka. There was a tug-of-war staged in the middle of the area. The participants were the zi ‘wives’ joined by the zi apa competing against their tsangmi ‘husbands’ and one of the changnyerpa.223 The zi were allowed to win, and this was considered an auspicious sign of the presence of g.yang, the positive (re)productive force of women, for the Bapu community. The day’s events were completed with

general merrymaking. A large cauldron of fermented liquor was heated over an open fire in the middle of the Rizang Thangka, around which anyone so inclined could join in traditional circle dances, singing and drinking.

11.8 Festival Day Four Early on Day Four, there was an apology ceremony conducted within the respective lhabrang houses of the lama, the zi apa and the changnyerpa. The ritual specialists had to petition the deities in forgiveness for any errors or oversights the performers may have committed during the preceding three days of the festival. This should have also been done by the tsangmi chilu and his lhabrang, however they were absent during 2011 due to the Atajipu clan’s boycott of the festival. Throughout the remainder of the day, the households of the Bapu clans hosted each other to reciprocal meals and socialised together. The final rite of all was conducted in each house of the village by the Khamsong prahme before he departed for his home in Khoina village to the south. He performed a mihuwen or rite to stop accidental fires occurring inside the house. For this he poured water onto the burning fire in the main hearth, then removed a burning log and extinguished it, and finally carried it outside of the house. Each household for which he did this gave him payment in the form of uncooked rice and chillies. All aspects of the Bapu Lhasöshe were then completed. The Thempang Bapu clans were scheduled to stage their next festival again only during 2017.

11.9 Transformations In all the documentary evidence we have throwing light on the historical status and role of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the reoccurring social theme is the centrality of patrilineal clans and agnatic sub-units within them, and the ritual maintenance of vitality for their members through appeals to lha ancestral deities. I would speculate that Bapu Lhasöshe, as a clan festival, represents exactly the type of social significance that Srid-pa’i lha worship must have had

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é Plate 170. Participants photographing performing bro pa and bro mo using mobile phones during Bapu Lhasöshe, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festi va l of Thempa ng

for centuries throughout the research region prior to the historical decline of clans in the face of organised states and other factors. That is one reason this study of Thempang Lhasöshe is so significant. What impressed me as a participant observer at the 2011 Bapu Lhasöshe was the active and sincere engagement of the worship community, and the investment they made in terms of expenditure, time and labour, and not least of all household and community collaboration. This was not without a specific background. Like other major villages along the Mon-yul Corridor, Thempang has been subject to decades of modernising forces framed primarily by the activities – or absence of them in some respects – of the modern Indian state. Due to this, quite a few individuals and families from the community have migrated away seeking better education and employment, or because of marriage. Many of these migrant persons returned to Thempang to celebrate the Bapu Lhasöshe I observed during 2011. Some I know of did so due to the heightened sense of importance of their home community and its traditional identity markers that they felt. This is a trait one often finds in the émigré. There was also a certain degree of cultural pride, as well as novelty, associated with the festival. Each day I witnessed many of the teenage and young adult participants avidly photographing and filming the events using handheld digital devices, such as mobile phones and small cameras (pl. 170). It is possible that the present six-yearly staging cycle had contributed to a perceived ‘specialness’ associated with the Bapu Lhasöshe. Yet, the most significant single factor contributing to the vitality of the festival at Thempang during 2011 was the continuing integrity of the local clan system and its significance across a wide range of aspects in local social life.

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12.

Th e Pl a Festi va l of Lh au

Up until its last staging during 1998, the Pla festival celebrated collectively by the six Dakpa speaking hamlets of Lhau was the largest and most important Srid-pa’i lha cult festival in the Tawang region. As I noted in the previous chapter, Lhau and its ritual specialists are also credited with being the origin of the form of the cult practiced in the Dirang region, and this is probably also true for many aspects present in the Khiksaba clan festival celebrated by the Sherdukpen community at Rupa. Moreover, until the present study was undertaken, the Pla at Lhau was the only form of Srid-pa’i lha cult practice for which a body of eyewitness documentation was available. Pla was thus the first such festival in the region to be cited by both local and outside observers as an example of “Bon religion” in the eastern Himalayas. I was able to confirm that a number of Pla 1 festivals, which were all variations of the same type found at Lhau, had also been celebrated in three directly adjacent part of Tawang District. Five of them are ethnographically attested, while five others are historical and described in local manuscripts used by bon shamans. At the time of my field research, with but a single exception, all these related festivals were no longer staged. Thus, the Tawang region has been the setting for a widespread cessation of the cult during the past century, but most noticeably in recent decades of the modern period. Due to all the above features, Tawang’s well-known Pla at Lhau is highly worthy of investigation.

all major rites during Pla. Interview data was supplemented by reading surviving ritual texts used by the now deceased Pla bon po, and a documentation of the actual festival grounds at which the events were once staged together with some eyewitness informants. I was able to consult five published and archival accounts of Pla at Lhau, although their reliability and level of detail proved variable. 2 The ability to compare available information on Pla with observations of similar Srid-pa’i lha festivals elsewhere throughout the region proved invaluable, allowing confirmation and contextualisation of many details. The resulting reconstruction must be considered tentative since some aspects of Pla performance, particularly the full range of rabs narratives once chanted, can no longer be recovered.

The following account of Lhau Pla is a partial ethnohistorical reconstruction of what occurred during the festivals staged from the mid-1970s until they ceased in 1998. It is based upon both narrative and photo-elicitation interviews conducted in Lhau with former participants of Pla, as well as with the households of hereditary bon po who conducted

12.1 Geography of Pla

Like Tsango and Thempang described in chapters 9 and 11, the Lhau community and its Pla festival must be appreciated in relation to their wider geographical and social-historical context. This concerns the Dakpa speaking Tawang District in which they were sponsored, but especially the clans (Dakpa mirui, ruikhang, cf. CT mi rus, rus khang) found there and the oldest evidence we have of their settlement. This will now be discussed before the reconstruction of the festival, while further details on the history of the clans involved is set out in chapter 16.

Forms of Pla have mainly been celebrated by specific communities within the three-part area known as the Tshosum (Tsho-gsum or Shar Nyi-ma Tsho-gsum) that comprises the central, northern section of the Tawang District. Other

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closely related Pla were also staged within the Dakpanang (Dag-pa-nang) sub-region immediately to the west, and by several more villages along the south bank of the Tawang Chu directly opposite the Tshosum and Dakpanang. The Tshosum itself forms an older core of higher altitude, sedentary agricultural villages and hamlets ranged along the north bank of the Tawang Chu river. The well-watered and sun-drenched south-facing slopes with ample forests covered by the Tshosum represent the prime area for farming and settlement throughout the entire Tawang region. For this reason alone, the Tshosum is the most plausible candidate as the zone of earliest habitation by sedentary populations. This same area was originally named La-’og Yul-gsum.3 La-’og, literally meaning ‘beneath the pass/ hill’, is a precise description of the real topography of the Tshosum and community territories like Lhau since they are located beneath passes to the north leading onto the Tibetan Plateau, namely the Milakatong La (4328 metres) and Bum La (4572 metres). Yul-gsum refers to the ‘three community territories’ (yul gsum) cited as lHa’u, Shar and [b]Se-ru in older historical documents. All three names are best regarded as being derived from founder clans (see below and ch. 16). Around the time of the late seventeenth century Ganden Phodrang annexation and administration of the Mon-yul Corridor, these three La-’og Yul-gsum settlement areas were redefined as tsho, which has the meaning ‘territorial unit’ but also defines a ‘collective’ in a social sense. From east to west, the lHa’u tsho, Shar tsho and [b]Se-ru tsho of premodern Tibetan administration are the well-populated and intensively farmed Lhau, Shartsho and Seru communities of the modern era. Within the Tshosum, Pla festivals were once celebrated by worship communities at Lhau, at neighbouring Khrimu and further to the west at Seru. There is also evidence that a now extinct Srid-pa’i lha worship community was based at the historical site of Drang-nga-mkhar (see ch. 16), which appears to have been located within the Tshosum. Immediately opposite Seru, on the southern bank of the Tawang Chu river, Pla was performed by a worship community at Mukto. 4 If claims in Tibetan language hagiographies of the Tibetan lama named Thang-tong rGyal-po – active

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fourteenth-fifteenth centuries – are taken seriously, then Mukto has been permanently connected with the Tshosum communities to its north by a durable iron chain bridge attributed to Thang-tong rGyal-po since around the early fifteenth century. This bridge still existed at the time of my field research. Thus, Mukto appears to have originally been an older satellite of the Tshosum, and the village today has a mixture of Dakpa speakers and Brokpaké speakers. All other important examples of Pla are found west of present-day Seru. This includes Dakpanang 5 area both north and south of the Tawang Chu around its confluence with the Nyamjang Chu river, and a short distance upstream on that latter river along both of its banks. In the earliest historical descriptions of the Mon-yul Corridor, Dakpanang was named Dag-pa-yul and persons from there were termed Dag-pa in contrast to La-’og Yul-gsum and its inhabitants.6 However, no historical sources indicate what (if any) differences these two names might have signified at that time, aside from being areal designations. As we will see, Dag-pa (spoken Dakpa) is the name of clan ancestral deities worshipped during the Pla festival at Lhau, and most probably this was the older meaning of the name and source of the Dakpa identity. There are modern claims of the people in Dakpanang/Dag-pa-yul being a distinct ethnic unit, and sometimes the name Dakpa is the subject of prejudice. However, beyond stereotyping,7 and some superficial differences, there is no historical or ethnographic basis currently available to support such an idea. While dialects of Dakpa language do vary from area to area – they have not yet been subject to any full linguistic study – this does not mean they represent any special ethnic distinctions. We know that in earlier times, the neighbouring Tshosum and Dakpanang/Dag-pa-yul areas both had converts to the rNying-ma-pa school of Tibetan Buddhism and later both had additional converts to the dGe-lugs-pa school, while both were at times local power bases of clans which the Rgyal rigs claims were descended from the common lHasras gTsang-ma ancestor. Moreover, other old clans, who do not trace their origins to the Buddhist lHa-sras gTsang-ma ancestor, are found in both the Tshosum and in Dakpanang. The actual distinction between the zones of Dakpanang and the Tshosum is far better understood in terms of ecology.

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

For one, there is at least a 1000 metres difference in altitude between the lower settlements of Dakpanang and the upper ones in Lhau and Shartsho, while much of the land in Dakpanang is steeper, more difficult to farm, and less accessible to easily exploitable supplies of fresh water and timber. Thus, aspects of the production systems, seasonal routines and even material cultures between these areas differ accordingly. Additionally, in pre-modern times Dakpanang was subject to a period of extractive rule by the Kharteng zhal ngo, an autonomous hereditary lord whose lineage originally came from neighbouring areas of proto-Bhutan.8 This localised political arrangement, together with the presence of independent rNying-ma-pa village lamas, probably contributed to stereotyping of, and prejudice about Dakpanang in relation to the remainder of Tawang during the period of Tibetan Ganden Phodrang rule. Among many aspects shared with Tshosum communities, various sites in Dakpanang also have long-established worship of Srid-pa’i lha in the form of Pla festivals. The main lineage-holding bon po practising Srid-pa’i lha rites in Dakpanang have been based at Hoongla (’Ung-la) on the north bank of the Tawang Chu river, and at Sanglung (Zangs-lung) on the west bank of the Nyamjang Chu river not far above its confluence with the Tawang Chu. At the time of my research, the Hoongla community maintained the Tawang District’s last living example of a Pla festival, and the hereditary ritual specialist lineage upon which it depends.9 We know of additional sites in Dakpanang that maintained Srid-pa’i lha worship communities historically (see ch. 16). These include Khet village opposite Hoongla on the south bank of the Tawang Chu, Kharteng village north of Hoongla overlooking the east bank of the lower Nyamjang Chu, and a little further north along the west bank of the same river at Mukthur village. Thus, the historical geography of Pla was highly coherent. It occurred within two equal-sized groupings of adjacent sites, one in the Tshosum and the other in Dakpanang, plus their two nearby and adjacent satellites to the south. This coherence may be explained by the fact that the Srid-pa’i lha cult is hereditary and closely articulated with clan identity and settlement patterns. There are records of the same set of

clans and their affinal bonds spread across these two adjoining areas of Tawang District.

12.2 Alternative Social History of Tawang Tsho-gsum Modern Lhau, along with Shartsho and Seru, have complex social histories related to clan organisation, and Pla cannot be understood apart from this background. Unfortunately, there is little reliable historical data available to definitively address clan histories prior to the 1688 date of the Rgyal rigs, the main written source that has featured strongly in all existing scholarship on the topic. Moreover, in the light of alternative information gained from my field research into the Srid-pa’i lha cult, it is clear the presentation of Monyul Corridor clans in the Rgyal rigs is both biased and limited, and it must now be carefully reconsidered (see ch. 16). The three historical communities of lHa’u, Shar and [b]Se-ru were described in the Rgyal rigs as ancestral seats of branches of the Jo-bo clan complex, of which Michael Aris once remarked, “The Jo-bo clan appears to have provided the Mönpas with a hereditary lay nobility.”10 The Jo-bo origin myth claims they were descended from a migrant Tibetan Prince, lHa-sras gTsang-ma, who ostensibly arrived in the region from proto-Bhutan to the west some eight centuries prior to the composition of the Rgyal rigs.11 The presentation of Mon-yul Corridor social history in the Rgyal rigs overwhelmingly favoured the Jo-bo and its branches at the expense of many other known clans throughout the region. Presumably because their origins were not defined by the Buddhist lHa-sras gTsang-ma myth, and thus could lend no glory to the reputations of patrons of that text’s author, most of these other clans were relegated to a mere name list of rus inhabiting the Shar region of lHo-mon added to Section V of the Rgyal rigs (see appx. G). Glimpses of alternative clan histories from neighbouring north-east Bhutan and from Dirang given in chapters 9 and 11 already revealed local social histories of clans comprising Srid-pa’i lha worship communities who existed parallel with, but unrelated to the Jo-bo. All the evidence indicates those non-Jo-bo clans most closely related to the Srid-pa’i

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lha cult from sites like Thempang and Tsango originated in parts of the southernmost Tibetan Plateau, and that they never claimed any specifically ‘royal’ or Buddhist backgrounds. While the likely origins and historical traces of these migrant clans will be explored in detail in chapter 16, here I address what little we know of the non-Jo-bo origins and clans of historical lHa’u and [b]Se-ru, and less so Shar. One Rgyal rigs account described the Tshosum as a trio of territories at which three Jo-bo scions arrived from the west and took control: Of these rGyal-po-dar took control of Rus-po-mkhar and so acted as the lord chief of bSe-ru, lHun-grub took control of Ber-mkhar and acted as lord chief of Shar-tsho and Kun-nu, staying in Kham-pa itself, took control of the royal site of his father [rGyal-mtshan Grags-pa12] and acted as the lord-chief of lHa’u.13 Of significance in such passages is that bSe-ru (also bSe-ru’i yul-ljongs14), Shar-tsho and lHa’u appear in the account as three pre-existing community territories (yul) with their own names unrelated to the Jo-bo. Within these community territories, three differently named sites of control or rule (mkhar, rgyal sa) were those then occupied by the Jo-bo scions. Of all these six community and site names, the only one known prior to the Rgyal rigs is the stronghold site named Rus-po-mkhar in the passage above. When Padma Gling-pa arrived in Shar La-’og Yul-gsum during 1488, he visited a community territory (yul) named Rus-bu-mkhar – literally ‘Patriclan Offspring Stronghold’ – east of Dagpa-yul, which is where bSe-ru is in fact located. Regardless of Jo-bo rule entering from outside the region at some unknown point in time, the three community territories concerned each appear to be named after older clans who have a wider history beyond Tawang, and who are unrelated to the Jo-bo clan complex. It can be noted that names of community territories and founder clans are often the same. This is very likely the reason the Jo-bo branch who came from outside to rule over lHa’u community territory carefully avoided the lHa’u name, and took instead the specific site name Kham-pa 15 for themselves. Nowadays, Khamba names one of six sub-settlement areas comprising the overall Lhau community territory. The historical clan

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name associated with it was Kham-pa Jo-bo, known in the modern era as Kham or Khamachi. It is common to find considerable orthographic and spoken variation for the same clan name recorded in Tibetan language across space and time, and clan names in the Monyul Corridor are certainly no exception to this (see appxs. H, G). Such changes result from many factors, including scribal error, dialect variation in oral transmission, folk etymology and the use of various social marking systems. For example, currently unexplained -mo suffixes and -’u endings have been commonly added to clan and lineage names within the research region. 16 These modifications themselves have been subject to further transformation over time and via transmission across different languages of the region, with both -mo > -mu > -m and -o > -o’u > a’u being examples evident in the data. Thus, we find the written and spoken name forms Se-ru/bSe-ru/bSer-ru/Ser-mo/Sermu/ Serm, and Shar-mo/Sharmu/Shar-tsho/Sha-ro/Shar-ro, each referring, respectively, to the same two clans in different sources collected from across the research region. Both clans feature in the historical and current social life of north-east Bhutan (cf. ch. 9) and the Mon-yul Corridor, while both their names are derived, respectively, from older [b]Se (or Se’u) and Sha (or Sha-mi) clans in neighbouring southern Tibet. As for the formal spelling lHa’u recorded in the Rgyal rigs, it is highly likely a variation of the regionally evident form lHo’u that in turn is a diminutive derived from the well-known and old southernmost Tibetan clan name lHo.17 I will discuss both [b]Se[-ru] and lHa’u/lHo’u/ lHo clan identities and ancestors fully in chapter 16. In the present context, the main point to note is that all three [b]Se-ru, Shar and lHa’u clan names are intimately associated with the Srid-pa’i lha cult in terms of the social identities and origin myths maintained by cult worship communities in both north-eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. We gain another earlier glimpse of Tshosum social history featuring non-Jo-bo clans in an origin narrative of the sKom, Rlon and Rog 18 clan ancestors who settled mainly at Merag and Sakteng, and who were later generically identified as the Brokpa (cf. CT ’brog pa ‘pastoralist’) population. Ancestors

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

of these clans represent a distinct and later migration into the region. Their descendants speak a Tibetic language, and they do not have any known participation in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The only genuinely old manuscript discussing these clans is the Khyung gdung rabs or Khyung Genealogy dated to 1756, thus some seventy years after composition of the Rgyal rigs. It consists of a pastiche of somewhat garbled fragments of narratives adapted from older Tibetan myths and historiographical sources, mixed with what are undoubtedly local oral transmissions of other myths, some earlier redactions of which were already previously set down in the Rgyal rigs itself. Nevertheless, certain local information in the Khyung gdung rabs does appear more realistic since it can be correlated against other sources. One short section reports the circumstances prevailing in the Tshosum region upon the arrival there of these three migrant clans: When the sKom, Rlon and Rog [clan ancestors] arrived at Sog-ma-steng[s],19 there were no more than seven households in lHa’u, no more than eleven households in Shar-tsho, and no more than five households in [b]Se-ru. Those in lHa’u were said to be lineage descendants from Khu bZang. Those in Shar-tsho were said to be lineage descendants from Ba. Those in bSe-ru were said to be lineage descendants from Kun.20 Two of the ancestral names related to these three old La’og Yul-gsum settlements here are of interest. The first, Khu bZang (‘The Good Khu’) at lHa’u, refers to a member of the old Khu clan. We know Khu clan presence in the region predated the late seventeenth century due to their mention as Khu-mo in the rus list of the Rgyal rigs section V (see appx. G). The clan under its name variants Khu/ Khu-mo/Khumu/Khum/Kho still has living members and branches throughout the Mon-yul Corridor (see ch. 11, appx. H), while it is an important historical clan name in the valleys of extreme north-eastern Bhutan (see ch. 16). The Khu clan’s close and old connections with lHa’u are also attested in redactions of the Rgyal rigs containing the Shar sDe-rang genealogy supplement. Members of the Khu clan migrated from Khri[d]-mo (spoken Khrimu) village immediately adjacent and close-by to lHa’u, in order to follow the

Kham-pa Jo-bo ancestor (A mi) bTso-ri from lHa’u when he was invited south to become ruler of Dirang: As for the origins of the Khu-mo subjects who came following our [Jo-bo ruler] A mi bTso-ri: Previously, having quit Khri-mo in the Tsho-gsum [region] by way of Rag-ma [and] sGeng-ra 21, they came to Sa-gling along the river course of the sGam-ri. From Sa-gling, [one named] mKhar-pa arrived here [in Dirang], his son was Ya-yu-ba, and his sons were Yar-btegs, dPal-bzang and bZang-po. bZang-po’s lineage ceased. The descendants of Nor-bzang who exist nowadays are the so-called Khri-mo-pa mi tshan.22 Most significantly, and like the aforementioned [b]Se-ru clan, the Khu clan features centrally in all Srid-pa’i lha cult origin narratives across the zone of Dzala and Dakpa speaking worship communities, as well as having a migration history from southern Tibet (ch. 16). Its descendants were active participants in the cult during the period of my research. Neighbouring lHa’u and Khri-mo, as Khu clan centres, once shared the same hereditary bon po ritual specialists for Srid-pa’i lha worship, while Khri-mo previously staged full-scale Pla festivals. Some manuscripts with ritual texts for these Pla preserved at Tawang contain chants in which the lha are described as descending from the top of the thirteenth level of the sky world directly down to Khri[d]-mo village itself.23 The second non-Jo-bo ancestral name in the Khyung gdung rabs citation is Ba at Shar-tsho. This is a widely known historical clan name with variants Ba/rBa/sBa/Ba-gi/rBa-gi/ sBa-gi/Ba-gi-pa/Bagipa/Ba-gyi/Ba’i/Ba-mo. Their traces are found widespread in local historical documents, as well as in origin myths, genealogies and toponyms from across the northern and central Mon-yul Corridor and adjacent parts of far eastern Bhutan. These traces are reviewed in chapter 16, but here it can be noted that the oldest known source mentioning them, a document with a confirmed date of 1680,24 cites the Ba-mo at Shar, thus confirming the Khyung gdung rabs reference. Nowadays, this old clan is best represented by living members of the Bagipa clan settled at Dirang Busti and in some of its satellites. Again, like the

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[b]Se-ru and the Khu, the Ba or later Bagipa clan have been strongly involved in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and they still had their own hereditary clan bon pos – now deceased – during the initial period of my field research. Concerning these non-Jo-bo clans at premodern lHa’u, we find them invoked in the main texts used by the hereditary bon po of lHa’u as principal ritual actors in Srid-pa’i lha festivals there. In a manuscript entitled Na gzhung or The Na Lore containing a long series of rabs narratives on cosmogony, descent from the sky world by lha ancestors, and the steps for the Na rites of protection, one such invocation reads: The Na [rite] had been given for the tshe of [our] fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers. Are you coming [to participate]? The Na has been given for the Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru [clans]. Are you coming [to participate]? The Na has been given for the four fathers and four sons of the sKyi [clan]. Are you coming [to participate]? If you come for the Na, cover your head with a helmet. If you come for the Na, clad your body with armour. These constituents have been assigned for the The Na Lore of the three clansmen!25 This passage invokes the battle-dressed warrior figures who represented the clansmen during Pla festivals at Lhau, as will be described below. The regionally known clan name sKyi/sKyid/sKyid-mo/sGyi/sGyis-mo, now spoken Kyi (sometimes also Ki or Kyim), mentioned here is also present at Lhau and around Tawang as a living patriclan, while the living gNam-sa clan exists in both north-east Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor (see chs. 9, 16). Like the Khu and the [b]Se-ru, the Kyi clan have southern Tibetan origins, as their name appears to indicate.26 The Khu clan at lHa’u were also viewed as primordial ancestral beings. One chant among those in the Na gzhung narratives, detailing descent from the top of the thirteenth level of the sky world, features a pair of Khu siblings (spun). An ‘elder brother’ Khu-po and a ‘younger sister’ Khu-mo arrive into a world with no deer upon the hills, no fish in the rivers, no birds in the forest and no people in the villages, and thus they begin to manifest as beings.27

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In summary, by viewing the three older Tshosum communities through a closer reading of different Rgyal rigs redactions, alternative historical sources and ethnographic data another set of previously unknown clans existing at places like Lhau are revealed. They all share a common profile: 1. Worship of Srid-pa’i lha as their sky ancestors. 2. Maintaining hereditary bon shaman lineages. 3. Practice of Buddhism as converts, but having no Buddhist-related origin narratives. 4. They appear to be old inhabitants of the region, yet have southern Tibetan roots. 5. Their past traces, and present occurrences are spread across the historical limits of Dzala and Dakpa speaking populations. Moreover, clans like the Khu and [b]Se-ru of the Tshosum, or the Khochilu at Thempang, all maintain origin narratives of the same type as those for the gDung lineages of central and eastern Bhutan recorded in the Rgyal rigs. In chapter 16, I investigate a hypothesis considering their common Dung origins in southernmost Tibet. Pla festivals at Lhau, and around Tawang, undoubtedly represent the ancestral ritual system of these same clans, just as the Srid-pa’i lha cult does elsewhere. Yet, we know that at Lhau members of the Kham-pa Jo-bo or modern Kham or Khamachi clan also participated in Pla in recent times. While this was certainly related to complex affinal networks connecting all the clans in the area, it was also likely the case that Pla had been so long-established in these old Tshosum villages as to be a taken-for-granted, calendric, communal rite providing all inhabitants with positive, mundane benefits. Before outlining a reconstruction of Pla at Lhau, brief mention must also be made of the presence of Buddhism there. The Lhau area has an attested history of Buddhism dating back to the fifteenth century, and this generally ref lects what has so far been historically established about the development of localised Buddhism within the Mon-yul Corridor itself. During that period, dGe-lugs-pa school missionaries native to the region founded the Ar-rgyagdung (or Ar-yag-gdung) monastery on the ridge of a hill above Lhau. They were local individuals who had gone for training as dGe-lugs-pa monks in Central Tibet, and then

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

returned to convert their homeland.28 The local dGe-lugspa converts in question were from the Jo-bo clan complex. Around a century later, in what must have been the late sixteenth or early seventeenth centuries, the Brag-dkar monastery was established on the hillside higher up above Lhau by a Tibetan Buddhist lama of the ’Brug-pa bKa’-brgyud school named Thugs-dam [or Thub-bstan] Pad-dkar.29 It is quite significant that this Brag-dkar dGon-pa is mentioned in the colophon of one of the main Srid-pa’i lha cult ritual texts from Lhau as the place where its author/scribe, who explicitly signed himself as ‘the non-Buddhist yogin’ (chos med rnal ’byor), recorded it in writing.30 A Buddhist monk on pilgrimage from Tibet to Assam at the beginning of the nineteenth century visited Brag-dkar monastery and Lhau village and described this part of Tawang as having ‘many Buddhist patrons and clerics’.31 Thus, the cultural environment within which the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its bon po specialists existed for centuries at Lhau was also an established Buddhist one in which there appears to have been mutual acceptance of, and perhaps even overlaps between, the two. From the early eighteenth century onwards, the Lhau community also came under the influence of the large, orthodox and politically powerful Tawang monastery that had been established under the auspices of the Tibetan rule imposed upon the Mon-yul Corridor. During recent decades, that conservative institution and its agents contributed in part to the eventual extinction of the Pla festivals of Tawang, as we will see below.

12.3 Reconstruction of Pla Festivals at Lhau Name of Festival The Indian scholar R.K. Billorey, who reported the earliest accurate description we have of any Srid-pa’i lha worship, correctly stated that “the Phlha is an ancestral god”.32 Paraphrasing Billorey, Michael Aris later confusingly added that the word pla is simply equivalent to lha.33 However, pla and lha are distinct words in the Dakpa language, just as they are also in the Dzala speaking areas of north-east Bhutan. As the name of a Srid-pa’i lha worship festival, Pla (and pla) has a double meaning reflecting the same older conceptual and

terminological ambivalence which was already discussed in parts II-III. Thus, on the one hand, Pla is a classificatory title occurring before the proper names of clan ancestor deities who descend from the sky as the source of vitality and fertility. The word occurs like this in Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts from Tawang and in deity names spoken by village informants at Lhau. On the other hand, as a technical term pla also identifies a person’s mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’. This meaning, too, was significant during the Pla festivals since a specific rite using feathers planted upon the top of the head to maintain the stability of the pla of the main ritual sponsors was performed.

Festival Organisation Pla at Lhau was intimately connected with local social organisation and residence patterns, in the same manner as the Thempang Lhasöshe described in the previous chapter. In premodern times, each of the three Tshosum areas were subdivided into small units called kachung or ‘hamlets’.34 Today, there are six such kachung that make up the whole of the Lhau collective (tsho), including Khamba, Grelling, Chikor, Nangkhor, Tod and Yonda. These kachung are communal social units that have the hallmarks of a complex historical development at the site. Membership is partly determined by residence in terms of the location of the natal household, rather than actual dwelling place of persons at any given time. Most kachung have their members living close together in and around the old clustered hamlets or settlement cores their kachung are named after, but this is not always the case. Thus, while the first five of the Lhau kachung listed above have well defined settlement zones for their members, the Yonda kachung is scattered but nevertheless functions as a unit in certain contexts. Various kachung are composed of individuals holding different clan names, but upon closer inspection, there is often a predominance of only one or two clans. Thus, Khamba kachung has mostly sKyi and Kham (or Khamachi) clan members. This suggests older clan-based units which then evolved under the Ganden Phodrang era taxation and

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î Plate 171. Bon po Lobsang (r.) and bon po Karma Gombo (m.) together during Pla with the longserving gaonbura of Lhau tsho, Pema Gombo (l.), Lhau, Tawang, April 1980.

monastic system that defined residence-based hamlet units comprised of households bearing a collective responsibly to meet certain tax obligations. Thus, communal composition based upon descent was modified in part into that based upon residence by the demands of an organised state, as seems to have been a common regional historical pattern and one also evident in neighbouring east Bhutan.35 Here we can contrast Tawang with the Dirang region to the south, where clan communalism in the oldest historically attested villages remained relatively strong and at which, beyond the fact of seasonal economic extraction, Tibetan administrative influences – including the ‘monk levy’ for Tawang monastery – were always at a far lower level than in Tawang. Most importantly for our present purposes, the kachung in Lhau formed the basis for contributions to and participation in communal rituals, including Pla. Thus, each year the households of a specific kachung had to act as the collective organisers and hosts for the Pla festival, a task rotated annually among the six units. The incumbent kachung was then referred to as the pla zur and took on a range of specific obligations.

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The Bon po The hereditary bon po was the main specialist of Pla. It is reported that there were once nine bon po and nine ritual assistants or tsam (i.e., gtsang mi elsewhere) in the Lhau area. All these lineages no longer exist, with their hereditary replacement ceasing during the second half of the twentieth century. I will return to the question of this simultaneous and widespread failure in the hereditary transfer of bon po positions in my comments at the close of the chapter. The last two Lhau bon po who performed Pla are known to us, although few precise biographical details are recalled nowadays. They were bon po Lobsang and bon po Karma Gombo (pls. 171, 172), both residents of Khamba kachung. Bon po Lobsang’s clan (ruikhang) was Kom Zangley Purgyi, although he represented a sKyi clan lineage. One of Lobsang’s agnatic ancestors gained the transmission of this hereditary role via uterine descent when that person’s father married into a sKyi clan bon po lineage family of Lhau as a magpa ‘uxorilocal husband’. This case gives a clear example of how the hereditary role of Srid-pa’i lha specialists could

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

be transmitted between clans on occasion. Lobsang’s currently living descendants recall both his father and grandfather having served as bon po at Lhau, and acting as the specialist for Pla at neighbouring Khrimu.

bon po precisely defines the symbolism and function of the bya ru device, along with the cosmological framework in which it is regarded as effective: [1b]

Bon po Karma Gombo’s clan was Khamachi. His ancestral home is in Khamba where his sKyi clan wife still lived at the time of my field research. A third Khamba kachung household also identified as sKyi had a hereditary bon po lineage whose incumbents belonged to the Khumu (Khu-mo) clan, although the line ceased several generations ago. Bon po Karma Gombo always performed side by side with bon po Lobsang wearing identical costumes (pls. 171, 172) during the stagings of the Pla festival we know of since the 1970s.36 This parallels the somewhat shared roles of paired specialists worshipping the Srid-pa’i lha we find at other sites until today. For instance, at the Lhamoche festival in Tsango the identically equipped lhami and drong perform most rites side by side, while a pair of bon po and tenpa shenrab specialists perform rites in the Kharpu festival together in Gongdukha speaking villages, the former using oral ritual texts and the latter chanting from a manuscript. The Lhau bon po were visually distinguished by their tall cylindrical ‘turbans’ or headgear called jari in spoken Dakpa, this being a rendering of the written technical term bya ru or ‘bird horns’. I described this headgear already in chapter 6. As is the case with all hereditary bon po serving Srid-pa’i lha worship communities, this headgear was their most ritually important accoutrement. Its central peacock feather and kusha grass plum, which rose from the top of the head through the centre of the hat and up above it (pl. 171), formed the actual bya ru device. Its function was protective in the same general way as the white bird’s feather on a palo device can be ‘planted’ (btsugs) atop of the heads of participants to secure their mobile vitality principle (pla). In the case of Lhau bon po, the bya ru device was intimately associated with their auxiliaries. These beings are represented as a type of divine, archetypal ritual specialist called bon, nine in number. They shielded the human bon po from a host of external spirit beings who might potentially ‘steal’ their pla and thus seriously threaten well-being or even life. A short rabs text surviving in the library of one of the deceased Lhau

[2a]

[2b]

[3a]

[3b]

[4a]

Formerly, in the very first aeon, There was no sky and there was no earth. In the midst of contemplation of nothing whatsoever, The bon who is everlasting should salute the lha! Nine [bya ru] came forth for the nine bon who hold the bya ru, Including the yellow bya ru of gold, The blue bya ru of turquoise, The brownish bya ru of silver, The white bya ru of conch, The maroon bya ru of cornelian, The black bya ru of iron, The secret bya ru of lapis lazuli, The elegant bya ru of peacock, and The wrathful bya ru of onyx. Now, the method of planting the bya ru is explained: That yellow bya ru of gold, Is planted on the head by dPal-lcam-brgyad. It protects against harm by the bshin rje to the south. That blue bya ru of turquoise, Is planted on the head by 37 khams bon rGod-po. When planted on the head, It protects against harm by the gnod sbyin to the north. That brownish38 bya ru of silver, Is planted on the head by snyan bon Prod-de. When planted on the head, It protects against harm by the me lha39 to the south-east. That white bya ru of conch, Is planted on the head by sTag-lha Me-’bar.40 When planted on the head, It protects against harm by the klu dbang to the west. That maroon bya ru of cornelian. Is planted on the head by Drug-shing gSang-ba. It protects against harm by the dri za to the east. That black bya ru of iron, Is planted on the head by lCags-shar bDe-ma. When planted on the head,

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[4b]

[5a]

[5b]

[6a]

[6b]

It protects against harm by the srin po to the south-west. That secret bya ru of lapis lazuli, Is planted on the head by Me-gnyag bon po. When planted on the head, It protects against harm by the rlung lha to the north-west. That elegant bya ru of peacock, Is planted on the head by Thing-dkar-lcags. When planted on the head, It protects against harm by the dbang ldan to the north-east. That wrathful bya ru of onyx, Is planted on the head by Zhang-zhung bon po. When planted on the head, It protects against harm by sa bdag in the central direction. This ends the section on planting of bya ru by the bon. Propitious indeed! When the bya ru is planted, Protect us against harm by sa bdag sTag-skya-bo of the east! Protect us against harm by sa bdag ’Brug-sngon-po of the south! Protect us against harm by sa bdag Bya-dmar-mo of the west! Protect us against harm by sa bdag Rul-dpal Kham-pa of the north! Protect us against harm by wood to the east! Protect us against harm by fire to the south! Protect us against harm by iron to the west! Protect us against harm by water to the north! Protect us against harm by earth at the four intermediate points! Protect us against harm by the king of the btsan, sKyid-bu Lung-btsan! Protect us against harm by the king of the bdud, dGa’rab dBang-phyug! Protect us against harm by the Srin-mo sPun-dgu!41

In the opening lines preceding the origin account, we find a bon shaman’s play on the religious rhetoric of g.Yung-drung Bon, to privilege the lha which is his own concern. Similar

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éPlate 172. Lhau bon po Lobsang (l.) and bon po Karma Gombo (r.) holding ritual bells, Tawang region ca. mid 1970s. 42

unusual references to g.Yung-drung Bon are discussed more extensively in chapters 14 and 16. The chant reveals how bya ru embodied the auxiliaries of a bon po conducting the Pla, protecting them during performance of rites when they are considered more vulnerable to attack than ever from negative or harmful spirits. All pla zur members also received a bya ru upon their heads at the start of each Pla festival since they served in assisting roles and were in effect extensions of the bon po’s ritual labour, and likewise vulnerable. The function of bya ru in Pla was thus the same as when other types of Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialists invoked the five gsas or lha to reside upon their rigs lnga or ‘clothe’ their bodies to protect them during performance of major rites. A second distinctive aspect of the Lhau bon po’s costume included a long, blanket-like cloak of woven wool a deep maroon in colour, featuring subtle designs embroidered on certain parts. This cape was draped over the shoulders

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

(pls. 171, 172), especially when bon po chanted major rabs. This long cloak represented the main piece of attire for ritual specialists, since their other clothing consisted of the thigh-length male robe bound closed around the waist with a sash, plus pants, as worn throughout the Tawang region. Identical long cloaks were still used by hereditary Srid-pa’i lha worship specialists at Yewang (pl. 24) in the Dirang area during the time of my research. As their primary musical instrument, the Lhau bon po used a small-sized, conventionally shaped brass or bronze bell with a cloth strap attached to the top of the body serving as a grip. These are clearly visible on ethnographic photographs of the bon po performing at Lhau (pls. 171, 172). The sound of these bells was believed to attract the deities when they were being invoked, and they were rung constantly during chanting of certain rabs. This was also observed as the basic function of similar bells still used by bon po at Yewang, Dirang Busti and in the upper Sangti valley, as well as for the unique finger bells used by bro pa performers at Thempang and Sangti villages. We know that the gshang flat bell employed at many other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, including Dakpanang in Tawang, was also used by the bau or mento palo performer during Pla at Lhau (see below), but there is no record of bon po using them there.

The Bro pa The Pla performers called bro pa were very similar in many respects to male bro pa described at Thempang in the previous chapter. There I suggested that one reason for considering the Thempang bro pa tradition originally came from the Tawang area is that the Thempang rabs text has descriptions of bro pa costumes which more closely resemble those seen on historical photographs from the Lhau Pla (pls. 160, 173) than they do those costumes recently used at the former site. One difference at Lhau is that all known bro pa appear to have been very young pre-pubescent boys, while there were no girls performing as bro mo. 43 Informants now say that each kachung had to supply one bro pa boy with all the aspects of his elaborate costume for every staging of a Pla festival. This should have totalled six performers, although over

time participation by boy bro pa appears to have been in slow decline.44 The obligation to supply a bro pa entailed preparation of all the elaborate and expensive items of jewellery with silver and precious stones worn by each boy performer. The individual pieces often had to be borrowed within family and friendship networks to make up a complete set. The young bro pa had a senior instructor called the bro pa’i dpon who held his position for longer periods, and who joined the incumbent kachung each year to supervise the performers. The bro pa’i dpon used to lead chants during bro movement performances, and the bro pa would respond only with the chanted Ahey refrain, just as the same type of performers do at other Srid-pa’i lha worship sites. The photograph in plate 173 of the 1980 Lhau Pla shows the bro pa of the then incumbent pla zur of Nangkor kachung. In the frame, the retiring, elderly bro pa’i dpon Meme Lekdön standing centre left has his arms raised to train the young new bro pa’i dpon Dorje Gombo - who stands immediately to Meme Lekdön’s left - in his role, while all the costumed boy bro pa facing the camera imitate his bro steps. Movements performed by the bro pa were not much different to those employed by lha’i bu at Changmadung and bro pa at Thempang, as described in the two previous chapters. They first had to step with one foot in towards the centre of the performance area, then shake the shoulder and arm on that side of their bodies as they inclined into the circle, then repeat the same movements with the opposite foot and shoulder, and finally step forward and raise their hands up in the air (pl. 173) while chanting the Ahey refrain several times.

The Beydungpa The beydungpa were a second type of movement performer during Pla, often standing in a row behind the bro pa or following them when moving in a line, as if ranked lower than the bro pa. They were also theoretically six in number since each kachung had to contribute one beydungpa for every festival. The beydungpön, their ‘leader’ (CT dpon), was a permanent appointment like the bro pa’i dpon, and joined and served the incumbent kachung during every Pla. He not

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é Plate 173. The bro pa’i dpon (centre l.) and three bro pa (r.) training during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

î Plate 174. A line of beydungpa behind the bro pa at Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

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The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf described beydungpa at the Pla of April 1980 as: [M]en wearing a headgear made of skins of longhaired goats dyed a golden colour. This headgear surrounded their faces and covered their shoulders and backs. They were dressed up as warriors wearing swords and spears.47

é Plate 175. Beydungpa posing with Indian guests during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, early 1990s.

only trained the beydungpa how to move, but also lead the chants specific to their performances. The beydungpa candidates were all strong and well-developed teenage boys or young men. In addition to movement performances, they performed several other ritual duties. The etymology of today’s spoken Dalpa term beydungpa at Lhau derives from a variant pronunciation of Dakpa poudung that means ‘sword’. 45 Thus, the name means ‘swordsmen’ (poudungpa > beydungpa). This fits exactly with the beydungpa costume and their role as a type of wild warrior bearing real swords. R.K. Billorey observed beydungpa at the Lhau Pla during April 1976, describing them as: [A]rmed men, shaking their bodies and uttering hoarse war cries, nodding their plumed heads [...] The dance performed on the occasion is characterised with vigour and wild energy. The dancers’ bodies seem to be possessed by an uncontrollable force, making them leap, whirl and sway to the varying rhythms of music.46

The surviving photographs of beydungpa all show them bearing swords, bows and arrow quivers. The beydungpa headdress comprised a shock of long tufts of dyed wool that hung down to the shoulders, and was surmounted by an upright device bearing an impressive plume of cock feathers (pls. 174, 175). It is highly likely that this headdress was intended as a seat for the patriclan deities since the same materials are used in the costumes of other Sridpa’i lha ritual specialist throughout the region for precisely this purpose. A former beydungpön at Lhau informed me during an interview that he had to perform more than twenty-five separate chants during the Pla festival as an assistant to the bon po. This compares with the approximate number of chants I recorded in use at the Tsango, Changmadung and Thempang festivals described in the previous chapters. These Pla chants included chanting of a ritual journey along an initial terrestrial itinerary with place names, which then ascended vertically in the sky world to invite the ancestral deities. He said that by comparison, the beydungpa only had to voice a loud Ho! cry as a type of refrain in some chants. The vigorous movements performed by the beydungpa are typical of those used for bro at Srid-pa’i lha worship sites right across the Dakpa and Dzala speaking zone of Tawang and northeast Bhutan, where festivals resembling Pla have been staged. High prancing steps or leaps are frequently referred to as chong (CT mchong) meaning ‘jumping’ and lhachong (lha mchong) or ‘leaping [for] the lha’. In some old rabs manuscripts the same style of movement is termed rtsal bslang in Tibetan, literally to ‘rise up agilely’, and some performers of these roles also spin around in mid-air while leaping. The overall impression of such vigorous movement performance by a coordinated group of warrior figures is a display

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of male virility, sometimes bordering on aggression, and embodying martial values. Above, I quoted a passage from the Na gzhung text used during the Lhau Pla which explicitly invokes males of the Khu, gNam-sa, Se-ru and sKyi ancestral clans to perform the rites dressed in battle helmets and body armour. Such ‘warrior’like figures feature in cult festivals from Tawang westwards across to Kurtö, and down the Mon-yul Corridor south of the Ze La pass into Dirang and further down to the Sherdukpen area.48 The combination of their occurrence being widespread, yet with their presence in cult worship never completely explained and mapped on to diverse and purely local interests at various sites, suggests they represent a relic of an older substratum of the cult, the significance of which remains unclear. Their occurrence particularly in the Kurtöp, Dzala and Dakpa language zone may suggest they were originally related to martial Shar Dung ancestors from lHo-brag who migrated southward into the research area (see ch. 16). However, we also know rites of death and for the deceased performed by a shaman also frequently involve armed warrior actors in various highland societies along the extended eastern Himalayas, including the Gurung/Tamu, the Tamang and the Naxi, amongst others.49

corporates. Such ‘clan flags’ are encountered elsewhere in the Tibetan cultural sphere, and they almost always suggest some type of communal militia units (ru). It is of note that during festivals like Pla these flags are specifically termed rudar and rupan, which we can translate as ‘militia banner’ (ru dar) or ‘clan banner’ (rus dar), and not simply as ‘pan’ (cf. CT ’phan) which is the more common colloquial expression for ‘flag’ throughout other parts of the Mon-yul Corridor. The significance of the flag used during Pla and other similar festivals is evident in Srid-pa’i lha rabs narratives and informant explanations. The flag or pennant (often called lha dar) is the ritual device for signalling (g.yab) the arrival of an ancestral lha who descends from the sky world. In some worship communities in Bhutan, the f lag is even thought of as a vehicle to ferry the deity from the local heights, where they first arrive on earth, down to the sacred grove or altar. This ritual use of the flag is probably very old, and appears to have become encoded in narratives of gNya’khri bTsan-po’s descent to and arrival upon earth. In most surviving older redactions of this myth, the lha progenitor emperor is first greeted by flag-waving men upon his initial arrival in the social world.50

The Bau or Palo The Ru dpon In an ethnographic photograph depicting bro pa during the 1980 Pla (see pl. 173), the man in the centre right background holding a flag or banner (spoken rudar, rupan) had the role of ru dpon or ‘flag master’ (also called rupanpa). He was from the incumbent Nangkor kachung, whose members were all represented by this flag during the days and nights of a Pla. Except for the incumbent pla zur, no other kachung had a flag. This contrasts with the Lhasöshe festival at Thempang, and other similar examples of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in Dirang region, during which each participating tsheshomba or descent unit publicly displays its own f lag or banner during festivals. If it is assumed that rudar banners in the Lhau Pla had the same significance as they still do south of the Ze La pass for tsheshomba and tshan during festivals, this implies that the kachung were once clan

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Informants at Lhau clearly recalled a lone performer during Pla who was called both bau and mento palo, but whose role is not recorded in any other sources. The bau is remembered especially for his headgear, sketched for me by an informant (fig. 20). This headgear was called mento palo, described as having a ‘flower bud’ or ‘fan’ shaped internal frame built up upon a horizontal wooden stick. The headgear was covered in cloth, and had white cock feathers, or khapu in Dakpa, attached to its faces and edges. Mento means ‘f lower’ in Dakpa (cf. CT me tog), and it appears the particular ‘flower bud’ shape being referred to here is the obscure name bau.51 Bau is an unusual word in Dakpa, which no Lhau informants could explain or consciously relate to a meaning other than the name of this ritual specialist. An elderly Dakpa speaker living in Dirang suggested it means ‘banana flower’, referring to the fat, somewhat teardrop shape of the leaf-enclosed

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

exactly how the handheld palo devices used in areas to the west of Tawang are displayed during Srid-pa’i lha festivals.

The Tepa

hanging case of a banana or plantain flower. The word labou does indeed mean ‘plantain flower’ in Dakpa, while lasheng refers to a whole plantain tree (cf. CT ta la). These descriptions leave no doubt the mento palo featuring in Pla was another example of palo devices found exclusively in use for Srid-pa’i lha worship throughout most of the Dakpa and Dzala speaking zone. An analysis of the ethnography and cultural history of the palo and its cognates is given in chapter 7 and 17.

The final group of Pla specialist participants were called tepa or ‘horsemen’ (te is ‘horse’ in Dakpa). The term gomdung 52 is occasionally associated with some of them. They were mounted horsemen, ideally six in number since each kachung had to supply one. The tepa wore the long maroon coloured woven wool chuba robes that were more typical of Tibetan secular dress for men than the shorter jackets often worn as local male costume in Tawang. The robe was bound at the waist by a sash known locally as the khichin. The tepa wore a flat, round beret of brown felted wool that I will discuss in more detail below. The exact function of the tepa remains somewhat unclear from the available accounts, and it appears to have changed over time. Lhau informants stated that on Day Two of Pla the horses of the mounted tepa were each lead by an escort on foot to the festival ground. Then, they performed three counterclockwise ‘bon’-style circumambulations (bon skor) upon horseback along a track that circled around the three lha shing trees in which the ancestral deities dwelt. Such an act is of course a ritualised form of showing respect towards, and recognising the potency of, the object of circumambulation, in this case the ancestral deities. During Pla in April 1980, Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf witnessed and photographed the same rite (pl. 176) and commented, “Towards the end of the day several men wearing flat round caps in Tibetan style mounted horses and rode around the grassy slope though without staging any proper race.”53

At the base of the mento palo headgear, a wooden frame extended left and right, like a pair of pseudo-horns. As figure 20 illustrates, informants recall a gshang f lat bell was attached to this frame on the left side of the bau’s head. Each side of the headgear had a sting that the bau held down tightly to keep the hat on his head while performing. The bau moved by bowing his upper body forwards and backwards, and from side to side, so that the mento palo would nearly touch the ground. This style of movement matches

In comparison with these accounts, earlier descriptions of Pla at Lhau during the mid-1970s by R.K. Billorey and Nehru Nanda do not mention the presence of such horsemen during Pla. Rather, they observed only horse races combined with target shooting staged by mounted competitors, and this is what Fürer-Haimendorf, who himself knew of the earlier Indian accounts, had expected to see. Billorey noted, “Horse racing takes place the same day. The village folks wildly cheer as five young riders in red coats race

é Figure 20. Informant’s impression of the feather-covered mento palo ‘hat’ worn by the bau or palo who performed during the Pla at Lhau.

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î Plate 176. Tepa horsemen being led past the pla zur banner at the Pla festival ground while performing a counterclockwise circumambulation, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

î Plate 177. Local gaonbura riding horses during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, mid- to late-1990s.

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wildly across the undulating grounds [...] The competitors must try to hit the target at full gallop with arrow or spear”, while Nehru Nanda witnessed the same.54 It is most likely that the ritual circuits ridden by the tepa and the horse racing both took place on the same day. However, it was only the dramatic, competitive use of the horses that captured the attention of these Indian observers who never systematically recorded the entire daily program, and who were often distracted by the etiquette of local hospitality. Lhau informants I interviewed had a specific interpretation of the meaning of the tepa as they recall them from Pla during the 1980s and 1990s. While the presence of tepa is an old element of Pla, the riders, lead by escorts was more recently meant to mimic Tibetan secular officials from the pre-1950s period. Specifically, this must apply to the two Tibetan rdzong dpon – one a lay officer, the other a so-called ‘monk’ officer – stationed at the rGyang-mkhar rDzong (or gzhis ka) in Shartsho to the west, who are said to have sometimes attended Pla as guests.55 It was indeed the winter season when the rdzong dpon were stationed in Tawang, since it was much warmer there in the lower valley compared with their freezing high Tibetan Plateau headquarters at mTsho-sna rDzong (ca. 4400 metres) to the north, where they spent their summers.56 On informant photographs of Pla taken during the mid- to late-1990s (pl. 177), the tepa can be seen wearing the red coats that had been the emblem of government-appointed village leaders in the eastern Himalayan highlands since British colonial times. Indeed, known senior village leaders or gaonbura from Lhau kachung are identifiable as mounted upon the horses in these modern photographs. But this seems to be a more recent development, as the earlier documentation reveals. While my informants’ interpretation of tepa is valid, for those Pla staged during the 1990s and perhaps slightly earlier, my own interpretation of the tepas’ original significance in the festival is somewhat different, based upon other information concerning ritual behaviour, costumes and the parallel occurrence of tepa performers in other Srid-pa’i lha festivals. To begin with, I agree with my informants that the tepa role relates to leaders or high-status figures. However, I propose that during the past it far more likely referred to the

heads of clans or descent groups who acted as ritual sponsors, or ritual specialists, and even the ancestral pho lha deities themselves who were being represented or embodied by the mounted performers. The specific costume still being worn by the tepa according to our 1980 records of Pla, but later abandoned, is one closely related to the attire of both Srid-pa’i lha deities and their ritual specialists. It is not that of a Tibetan layman at all, although it might bear superficial resemblance. The tepas’ rather broad and flat beret-like hat of brown felted wool is probably best classified as a form of the bal thod or ‘woollen turban’ widely worn by hereditary bon po ritual specialists both within the northern zone of our research region and in certain areas of southern Tibet. This hat, which was not given any specific name by Lhau informants when I showed them the Fürer-Haimendorf photographs from 1980, was completely f lat and round and sat upon and covered the top of the head (pl. 178). Its form might also be described as “mushroom-shaped”, and this is precisely the local description obtained by Charles Ramble from his informants for an identical hat that was worn by a hereditary aya specialist in southern Tibet. The hat in that case was the main item that the aya’s son inherited from his father when the role was transmitted between them.57 A very similar flat, round beret-type hat made of brown wool also formed the base of the headgear worn by the bro pa during Pla (pls. 173, 174, 230). The flat, very broadly brimmed Asha hats made of dark felted wool worn by the bon shamans at Tsango in the upper Khoma valley are of the same general type (pls. 50, 105). To avoid confusion, one must be clear that the tepas’ beret-type hat is not that worn by premodern secular officials in Central Tibet. In 1980, Fürer-Haimendorf himself remarked of the tepa’s hats that they were “flat round caps in Tibetan style”. The Tibetan flat-topped hats being referred to here were made from yellow felted wool and worn by minor officials of the premodern Ganden Phodrang state (pl. 179), and even by a few of them who were posted at Tawang.58 These hats are termed ’bog tho in Tibetan, and while always f lat across the top, their undersides taper down at an angle so that the lower opening of the hat which attaches to the head is rather narrow, and thus the

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î Plate 178. Tepa horsemen wearing the flat woollen beret during the Pla festival, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

’bog tho sits perched upon this narrower base when worn. The Tibetan verb ’bog actually means ‘to pull out’ which expresses well the exact shape of the hat between its top and base. The close etymological associations of the word ’bog tho with terms for other items of premodern Tibetan material culture bear this out precisely.59 When worn, the ’bog tho has the appearance of sitting somewhat precariously or jauntily upon the top of the head due to its shape, rather than sitting flat and more completely upon the head like those hats worn during Pla (pl. 178) and by other ‘bon’identified ritual specialists elsewhere. More significantly still, the flat hats worn by earlier tepa and other ritual specialists are also in fact worn by the deities themselves at Lhau. This is clear in paintings of the three ancestral Pla and pho lha titled deities worshipped during Pla festivals (pl. 180) as they appear on the cloth scrolls which formed the cylindrical jari (bya ru) headgear worn by the Lhau bon po. The three deities not only wear the same hats sitting flat upon their heads, the rest of their apparel is

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also basically that seen worn as the older tepa costumes. The three deities are easily identifiable as Srid-pa’i lha since they each hold one of the three common hand insignia of these deities as they are described in all the local rabs, namely the staff, wish-fulfilling gem and the ritual pennant. Moreover, like all related deities, such as ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gurzhe, they are borne upon white horses, just as the tepa themselves ideally should have been and indeed sometimes were (pl. 177), depending upon the availability of white animals. The fact that tepa always appear to represent leading figures who venerated the ancestral deities by circumambulating them, and who mimic their appearance in their costumes and mounts, suggests they were once important ritual actors identified in some way with the Pla and pho lha. I propose the older tepa role was once that of the clan head or lineage representative who was, after all, technically descended from these ancestral deities. If these meanings and their symbolic force became lost from, or only weakly echoed in, the later Pla festivals, then it merely reflects the

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

Seasonal Timing Like all Srid-pa’i lha worship, Pla took the form of a calendric festival. At Lhau it was staged annually around the middle of the second month of the Tibetan lunar calendar, which usually falls during April in the Gregorian calendar. Its staging date alternated between a period locally called tshe in one year and another called nyi in the following year. Tshe indicates the first twenty days of a lunar month, and generally throughout the whole research region Srid-pa’i lha must only be worshipped within that specific period for it defines the positive times for performing rites of increase in relation to the lunar cycle. Seasonally, the second lunar month represents late winter and early spring at Lhau. R.K. Billorey, whose account of Pla at Lhau is generally perceptive and reliable, characterised the overall event as follows: The Phlha festival appears to be associated with the fertility cult as the ritual performed on this occasion involves worshipping the tree called Chandosing, seeking blessing of the deity by those desiring children, and sowing the seeds in the soil on this occasion.60 é Plate 179. Premodern Tibetan official wearing the ’bog tho hat, Lhasa, Tibet, 1930s.

decline in the importance of clans throughout the Tshosum which we know occurred from the 1950s on with the advent of the modern Indian state at Tawang. A final point not to be overlooked here is the significance of the horse (te) itself in relation to acquisition of fertility and life powers. During Pla at Lhau, the horse, in the form of a wooden phallus called ‘the horse’ (te) with a long tail-like extension made of rope, was explicitly the symbol of, and device for dispensing the Srid-pa’i lha’s fertilising power. This equation of the Srid-pa’i lha’s horse, the phallus and fertility reappears in all Srid-pa’i lha festivals across a wide zone of the whole research area, as I will note below.

His mention of planting at the time of Pla in Lhau could not be confirmed during my research, and may represent something trivial or coincidental. Other commentators have tried to link Pla to the agricultural cycle. Nehru Nanda stated that, “While the time of celebration varies, the puja itself coincides with the harvest and the sowing season in each village.”61 Apart from the fact that Nanda problematically conflated very different types of what she called “Bon” rites and festivals, such as kengpa, together with Pla events, the general idea that Pla was linked to the agricultural cycle is misleading and requires comment. At Lhau itself at the time of my research, and in living memory, there was no direct planting into the soil during April due to cold temperatures, as is the case in the higher settlements of the Tshosum more generally. This can only first

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begin during May when millet and maize are initially sown into warmer soils. Rather, April is usually the month when the very first rice seeds can be planted into nurseries to rear seedlings for later transfer to the warmer, lower altitude fields. Billorey’s remark on sowing during this time of year at Lhau begs questions. For one, in April it could only have referred to rice for nursery seedlings. However, the timing of this operation is highly dependent upon annual weather patterns, and rice seedlings can go in as late as May following a cold spring. Yet, at Lhau, which lies quite far up the Tawang valley – its median altitude is around 2500 metres – rice was an unimportant premodern crop. Rice was not significant in the upper Tshosum region due to altitude, lower soil temperatures and lack of suitable land for growing premodern rice varieties.62 Moreover, throughout the Mon-yul Corridor, all major Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals have taken place – and still do take place where they survive – during the cool season after harvesting is over, the majority being in mid-winter, although some extend through the winter months to the time just before the very first spring planting can occur. This is the agricultural slack season, when farming activity reaches its absolute nadir, and when communal rites – which also require significant labour and time investment by many participants – of up to a week in duration are not difficult for anyone to find time to participate in. Additionally, agricultural labour is in any case ritually forbidden on the main dates of Pla and other Srid-pa’i lha festivals. An exception to the end of year calendric pattern throughout the Mon-yul Corridor is the Hoongla Pla at Dakpanang. This is staged annually during the fifth lunar month, a time after all planting has been completed and when no harvests

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occur. Overall, purported links between festival timings and harvest and sowing periods is not substantiated. Rather, the timing reflects the end of one year and the commencement of another, which is the period of cyclic renewal and of rites to ensure that. We can recall here that Srid-pa’i lha worship for revitalisation invariably focuses primarily upon fertility and vitality of people, their domestic animals and often also wild animals which are harvested, as well as the general protection and enrichment of all beings to maintain strength of life. Crops and harvests are mentioned or relevant only at certain sites, but this is rather an exception than the norm, and a concern with agriculture, when present, is never the prime focus but a subsidiary one. In fact, the dominant goals and symbolic references in the Srid-pa’i lha cult strongly evince cultural and historical roots in societies with productive systems based primarily upon animal husbandry in arid steppe environments and hunting, and not the concerns of cultivators in seasonally wet and well forested hill country, as I will discuss further in chapter 16.

Festival Ground After attending a Pla at Lhau during the mid-1970s, Indian administrator Nehru Nanda described the festival ground and those like it in other settlements as, “situated in every village along a broad expanse of flat land, beneath a thick grove of trees where stones are arranged in flat and vertical piles in a strange and inexplicable symmetry.”63 At the time ì Plate 180. The three ancestral Pla or pho lha titled deities worshipped during Pla, on painted panels from the scroll forming the jari (bya ru) hat of the Lhau bon po, Tawang, 2011.

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

of my fieldwork visits to Lhau, the ritual site for Pla was a large open area of grazed meadowland located high above the topmost Lhau kachung hamlet of Tod (literally ‘upper’ from CT stod). It was called Pla leng or ‘Pla field’, and it is relatively f lat. The upper part of the Pla leng was referred to as the ngenth pla or ‘day Pla’ since major daytime events took place there. Standing together at the top of the ngenth pla area forming a small grove are three tall coniferous trees called lha shing,64 one slightly above the other two. These served as the temporary abodes on earth for the three Sridpa’i lha deities who were called down from the sky for the period of worship. Surrounding these trees there is a circular path used by the horse-mounted tepa to circumambulate them. Some distance to the east of the lha shing is a small spring that was used for the ritual ablutions of the main ritual performers. It is typical of springs used in this way at all the Srid-pa’i lha festivals I attended. These springs are frequently related to the arrival and settlement establishment by founding clans in Srid-pa’i lha worship communities across the region. On the ground below, and a little west of the lha shing grove, there are a group of flat, altar-like stones upon which participating kachung rested their baskets full of tshogs to be offered to the deities, and that served as small stone slab altars of the type found in nearly all sacred groves for cult festivals. During my field visit to the site, I was able to locate the same altar stones photographed in 1980 by Fürer-Haimendorf (pl. 181). These stones were called tshogs seet, and each kachung had its own specific stone for placing its tshogs upon that only they could use. The identical practice and stones were still found in use in the upper Sangti valley during Lhasöshe festivals I observed there. Nehru Nanda observed the following use of these stones during a Pla at Lhau in the mid-1970s: During the puja each household places its basket of offerings on the large, flat stones. The baskets contain grains of wheat and barley. The curious features of this ritual is [sic.] the offerings of little animal figures made out of flour which are also placed on the stones.65 Lower down the Pla leng field, there was a site for brewing festival beer on the east side, and a seat beneath a tree on

the west side for the bon po who chanted there during the night, hence this area was known as the senth pla or ‘night Pla’. When I visited it during 2011, some features of the Pla leng, its lha shing grove, tshogs stones and other ritual sites were all to be found exactly as they had been left following the final Pla staged during 1998. However, during a subsequent visit in 2012 I found the upper area of the old Pla leng had just been earmarked to become a large construction site for some public or military facility due to its relatively level area. It is likely that all physical traces of Pla in this local landscape will have been erased by now. The Pla leng with its sacred trees and altar stones at the neighbouring village of Khrimu was still intact during 2012.

Bringing Down the lHa The stages of Pla took place over a one-month period, but the major communal rites for the festival occurred over three main days during the middle of this longer period. Pla began fourteen days prior to Day One of the main festival with the bringing down of the ancestral deities from the sky. Informants now call this initial phase the lha ’bab or ‘descent of the lha’. The two bon po, accompanied by the bro pa, beydungpa and members of the incumbent pla zur all went up to the Pla leng together and visited a small natural spring some distance to the east of the lha shing. There they performed ablutions with pure water prior to commencing any rites. Additionally, by this time all these ritual specialists should have been abstaining completely from eating any garlic, onions, pork and other dietary items considered offensive to ancestral deities. If they broke these purity taboos, then it was believed that negative things would occur during the Pla worship on the main festival days, including falling over while stepping bro, or that the performers’ ornaments could drop off, and the like. The public viewed all such circumstances as particularly bad omens. Most details of the lha ’bab process were no longer recalled by eye witnesses during my field research. It is remembered there was an itinerary for a verbal ritual journey to the sky and back, including a section of terrestrial places that lead to the Yar-lung region in southern Tibet, chanted prior to

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î Plate 181. Pla participants socialising around the tshogs seet stones at the upper Pla leng, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

the vertical ascent. One elderly informant who served as a beydungpön recalled the rabs for the very first chant, which was called Srid pa’i chags lo or Creation of the World, and this is exactly the narrative with which most rabs cycles for Srid-pa’i lha festivals in the region begin (compare the same rabs at Thempang in the previous chapter). Once the deities had descended, they remained at the lha shing trees until they were dispatched back up again by the two bon po fourteen days after the main festival was completed. The three Srid-pa’i lha ancestral deities themselves are classed as both pho lha and kyaulha. The precise meaning of this latter title remains uncertain, although it may be a local pronunciation of Tibetan skyes lha or ‘natal deity’. Their actual names and titles are spoken Konlo Pla Dakpa, Jo Lisheng Dakpa and Mingkhar Plang Mebu.66 Various scholars have ventured speculations about the origins of the proper name Dakpa for the people and their spoken language of the same name in the Tawang region. However, it appears that Dakpa reflects the names of their ancestral patrilineal deities, and is thus related to origins, which makes perfect cultural sense in context. Cognate Dakpa clan names and toponyms

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are known from highland sites in the extended eastern Himalayas and on the central Tibetan Plateau.67 It is also highly likely this identity is related to the ancient territory of Dags to the north-east of Mon mTsho-sna, the evidence for which I will discuss in chapter 18. Konlo Pla Dakpa’s temporary abode at the Pla leng was the uppermost of the three lha shing trees, while Jo Lisheng Dakpa resided in the tree below it and to the west, with Mingkhar Plang Mebu stationed in the tree to the east. In addition to these three deities, the regionally most familiar Srid-pa’i lha, ’O-de Gung-rgyal, was also invoked during the Pla rites.

12.4 Festival Day One Day One of the Pla festival featured rites at the kachung hamlets beginning in earnest during evening, then continuing well into the night at the Pla leng. The fact of rites being performed during darkness is one of several reasons why none of the existing accounts by early visitors mention the events of Day One, a point I shall return to in my final

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

reflections below. Already during the morning of the first day, the members of all the other kachung delivered homebrewed alcohol called kra chang to the hamlet of the pla zur as a ritual donation. The tepa horsemen assembled at the Lhau headman’s house, and three times during the morning they went to the pla zur hamlet and all shouted out, “Meoome! Meoome! Meoome!” My informants stated this was a customary and archaic chant, which is considered to have meant something like, “Do it fast!” Day One of Pla has the special term bau kroto given to it. Informants explained its meaning as ‘raising up of the bau’, in honour of the bau whose performance started the festival. This was meant to ensure auspiciousness for the coming festival, and to ward off hindrances and negative forces. These descriptions resonate with data from elsewhere across the region, as exemplified in the account of ritual planting of palo feathers during the Pla festival at Lawa in chapter 7. Generally, when the palo performance is done, the palo device, which is covered in white cock feathers, is raised up over the head of the palopa repeatedly. Later, the cock feathers are distributed by a ritual specialist who plants them on the crown of the heads of all participants to protect their pla vitality principles. This was also the function of the bau and his mento palo headgear during the first main day of Pla. At the hamlet of the incumbent pla zur, a white cock was sacrificed and its feathers removed to be applied to the mento palo. The pla zur members consumed liquor late in the day or early evening, and then the bau would perform his special movements with his feather-covered headgear, and the bro pa and the beydungpa also performed their steps. All member of the pla zur had a white cock’s feather planted upon the crowns of their heads or atop their hats (pl. 182), and these they wore for the remainder of the festival as a protective device. This white feather was simply called khapu or ‘cock feather’, but its function was identical to the bya ru feathers on the headgear of the bon po as described above. Throughout the evening of the first day, the bau, bro pa and the beydungpa then proceeded to visit each kachung hamlet in turn, at which they performed for about half an hour at each site, while the kachung members gathered and drank liquor together.

During the evening of the first day, the two bon po separately began their own initial rites by moving up to the lower Pla leng where they remained seated under a tree for the so-called senth pla or ‘night Pla’. They chanted alone there throughout much of the night, but only they alone knew the content of their ritual texts. However, by comparing these nocturnal rites, at which only the primary ritual specialists were present, with other rites staged in the same manner during Srid-pa’i lha worship elsewhere, it is almost certain the secluded Lhau bon po were invoking their auxiliaries for protection during the ensuing festival, most likely using the bya ru chant cited above along with similar texts.

12.5 Festival Day Two From early morning until noon on Day Two of Pla, all the other ritual specialists joined the bon po at the lower Pla leng and together performed bro steps and chants, the exact content of which is now no longer known. At lunchtime, they moved up to the top of the Pla leng to perform bro around the tshogs stones and the lha shing area. Local informants in Lhau now state this was the point at which tshogs was offered to the deities.68 We can supplement Nanda’s description of the offerings placed upon the tshogs seet stones quoted above with Billorey’s 1976 description: On the first day, people welcome the gods, who arrive and take up their temporary abode in the tree called Chandosing [i.e., the lha shing]. The offerings contained in the large conical baskets, placed near the heap of stones under the tree, include cakes, pieces of cloths and symbolic sacrificial figures of animals like goats, yaks and birds made of flour.69 These accounts of the offerings proved accurate when cross-checked with informants. They reveal that much of the tshogs was like that offered at Thempang and other sites in Dirang, although without the grandiose glud rites that involved live animals as ransoms, and recitation of special verbal ritual journeys to search for and obtain them as occurs at the latter sites. At Hoongla, site of the last remaining Pla to be celebrated in Tawang District, the numerous

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types of small dough ransom animals mentioned here were still used at the time of my field research, and are called norna (CT nor sna) in the local Dakpa dialect. The Hoongla bon po Lama Tashi stated that, during Hoongla Pla, these animals are thought of as exchange items given to the deities in return for the procreative life powers of tshe for human worshippers and g.yang for their animals. This is basically the same conception found at Thempang as well, and it is safe to assume it also applied at the Lhau Pla. On Day Two of Pla, the mounted tepa rode their horses three times in a counterclockwise direction around the lha shing trees at the top of the Pla leng. The beydungpa used to check whether the tepa riders stayed properly mounted upon their horses or if they fell off (possibly due to intoxication). If they were observed to fall, the tepa would be fined one large bamboo vessel (zhangzom) of home-brewed alcohol as a penalty. The gomdung, who was one of the tepa, used to check whether any part of the ornamentation of the beydungpa fell off while they were performing. If so, the tepa could in their turn also impose the same fine of a full zhangzom upon the beydungpa. Later, on the final day of Pla, the organisers used to tally up any fines recorded by the two groups, and then have them settle the account with either payments of alcohol or, if the number of fines for both groups was equal, simply cancel them out. As for the bro pa, Nehru Nanda, who mistakenly thought the elaborately costumed young boys were girls, noted that this fine system applied to them as well: Each dancer is escorted by a relative who has to watch over her carefully and see that her long stockinged shoes do not slip [down] over the ankles or that a brooch does not fall off. In case this happens they have to pay a ceremonial fine which is an integral part of the ritual.70 The levying of fines for such ritual breaches was still associated with all the extant Srid-pa’i lha festivals I observed. At Mon-yul Corridor sites, such as Thempang discussed in the previous chapter, it is also often accompanied by the practice of making formal apologies to the deities for errors or shortcomings occurring during the festival proceedings.

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é Plate 182. Members of the incumbent pla zur of Nangkor kachung wearing khapu feathers as bya ru upon their heads during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

12.6 Festival Day Three In his draft report on Pla written immediately after his April 1976 visit to Lhau, R.K. Billorey reported Day Three (i.e., his “second day”) to be: [T]he important day. Puja and ritual dance are performed to propitiate the gods, to increase fertility and for general well-being of the people. The horse racing and dancing is part of the celebrations on the second day. People sit in groups anywhere they like, eat and drink ara to their fill. The children play freely and the air is filled with the mirth and laughter.71 In his published account, Billorey also added what his informants explained: “The sacred dance is generally regarded as a means by which new supernatural forces can come down to the world of men.”72 His emphasis upon fertility, and the flow of life forces down to earth here entirely captures the character of the main rites of Day Three of Pla,

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

and, indeed, one of the core ritual goals of Srid-pa’i lha worship wherever it occurs. My informants explained that for the rites of Day Three, a large wooden phallus called the te or ‘horse’ was crafted. It had a rope some five-ten metres long attached at one end to form a sort of ‘tail’ as a ritual extension of the shaft. While people were seated at the Pla leng in groups, the beydungpa dpon carried the large te phallus while the other end of its tail rope was held by one beydungpa. Together, they would move around the groups to bless people with both life powers and protection by passing the phallus and rope over the tops of the seated participants’ heads, and by encircling groups of them with it. During this rite, the beydungpa all chanted to invoke and welcome the te or horse, saying that it had come from the Yar-lha Sham-po area to the north in Tibet, and had arrived in Lhau to imbue the participants with life powers. The chants were full of allusions to fertility. This chanting for the te was exclusive to the beydungpa, while the bon po were not involved. Many smaller wooden phalluses that had been prepared in advance were also used on Day Three of Pla. At the lower Pla leng there was a tree-like wooden altar from which these phalluses were hung. It was here that the large quantities of kra chang offered by all the kachung to the pla zur at the start of the festival were accumulated in large cauldrons. The bon po chanted to endow the liquor with the tshe fertilising and vitalising power of the ancestral deities. The empowered kra chang was then redistributed by the beydungpa to all the worshippers for their direct consumption. Everyone within the worship community, regardless of age, gender or rank, partook of the liquor. The beydungpa dispensed this liquor using wooden measuring cups termed bre that had been attached around their waists on the right-hand side of their sashes throughout all the performances. These wooden bre measures are visible on plate 175. The small phalluses hanging from the altar were thought to confer fertility as well as providing protection. They were sold among the members of the host kachung if anyone did not have one in their household. Acquisition of a te phallus on Day Three of Pla was believed to aid barren couples to conceive a child.

Similar rites using ropes, wooden phalluses, or other wooden branches and devices related to the lha’s horse, are part of festival at many sites. They include sites as far south as the lower Mon-yul Corridor at which the cultural influence of Dakpa speaking peoples had been historically extended,73 across most of the more northern distribution region of the cult in eastern Bhutan as far as the upper Mangde Chu valley, and down the west bank of the Kuri Chu valley. They are less well represented in many parts of Bumthang and Kheng, for reasons that are unknown. A communal feast for all Pla participants was also staged at this time. Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf attended this part of the 1980 Pla and described: The arrangements for the feast, at which hundreds of participants are entertained with food and drink [...] A large crowd of men, women and children was milling around on the grassy slope, and there were several camps where food was being heated on open fires and millet beer was dispensed [...] There was a great deal of merry making and laughter and the women moved freely among the men. Both sexes had obviously imbibed large quantities of beer and their mood was entirely unrestrained.74 At the close of Day Three, a meeting was held at the lower Pla leng, where it was decided which of the six Lhau kachung would organise and host Pla as the pla zur during the coming year.

Additional Days of Pla My informants only described the above three days as constituting the main Pla festival. During his visit, R.K. Billorey described Pla as being continued for two further days. However, his account of what occurred over that period is of festive socialising among the villagers, mainly at the Pla leng during the first additional day, and then in people’s private homes on the final day. This behaviour is unsurprising, and these two festive days without performing any domestic work mentioned by Billorey were almost certainly a ritual

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requirement that was enforced. We know that many Srid pa’i lha festivals are immediately followed by a day or two during which all aspects of major domestic work, particularly farming and animal husbandry or herding, travel for economic purposes, and so on, must be carefully avoided.75 During the period of my field studies, this was the case at the one surviving Pla still celebrated in the Tawang region at Hoongla, in lower Dakpanang area. For the duration of Pla there, surrounding settlements up as far as Segar (or Saikhar) traditionally abstained from work even though their inhabitants did not directly attend the Hoongla event, although it was also performed on their behalf by the Hoongla bon po. The explanation given at Hoongla is the same one hears everywhere throughout the research region; the deities will become very displeased, upset by the commotion and noise of human work, not to mention any quarrelling and shouting, and may respond unkindly by visiting disasters upon the community. Such days of restricted activity usually have a special term, although I never heard one used around Tawang.76

12.7 Decline and Demise of Pla This study of Pla, and that of the Bapu Lhasöshe in the previous chapter, both demonstrate that careful reference to the region’s descent groups is the key to understanding social history and ritual systems in the Mon-yul Corridor. Many dynamics of clan history in the region are now obscure or lost to us, and will most probably remain so. Hidden together with them, the earliest origins and development of Pla at sites like Lhau must likewise remain speculative. However, we have a much clearer picture of the twentieth century period. The decline of the relevance of clans coincident with the advent of modern transformations in the region is certainly one aspect of a complex of factors that eventually lead to the cessation of Pla within the Tshosum area. The social role of clans in Tawang must have been gradually dwindling over a longer period. Beyond a minimal function as boundary markers for exogamy, clans seem to have little remaining significance within Tshosum life today. When I asked various younger to middle-aged adult informants in

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the area what their clan identities were, they frequently did not know them, and had to consult a senior family member in order to find out. Recent books written about the region by educated members of the Tawang community do not even mention the existence of clans, and this appears to be further evidence of the patterns of decline I observed. The situation is very different south of the Ze La pass in the Dirang district. As the previous study of Thempang demonstrated, clan membership and identity in that area remained meaningful in a wide variety of ways at the time of my field research. What can explain these differences between the adjacent regions, and why has there been stronger decline of clans in Tawang? The idea that premodern states in the region sought to bypass clan social organisation, and were basically inimical to it, is worth considering. We know that during times past, clans were politically and socially important and also widespread throughout both Central Tibet and neighbouring east Bhutan, but that they declined dramatically with the advent of organised and centralised Tibetan-style Buddhist polities.77 In the case of Bhutan, clans and their leaders in eastern areas appear to have been a target of Buddhistaligned ’Brug-pa political forces during their founding of a state, since they would not tolerate any competing sources of local political authority, identity and allegiance. This tremendous pressure on clans at the time was, after all, the precise socio-political context in which the author of the Rgyal rigs recorded so many clan genealogies and names for posterity. Clans survived longer in the face of premodern state annexation of the Mon-yul Corridor. The intensity of the Tibetan state’s penetration and interventions was not evenly felt. In certain parts of the Corridor, economic extraction was the sole interest of the state, while local social and cultural practices were completely ignored provided they did not interfere with the state’s operations on the ground. Compared with Dirang south of the Ze La pass, it is safe to assume that the proportionally higher levels of proximity to and impact of the Ganden Phodrang state and associated mass monasticism of its dGe-lugs-pa school north of the Ze La has been a major, long-term premodern factor in the gradual erosion of clans in Tawang. Other modern factors, which will now be considered, merely helped consign an

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

already eroded form of social organisation to the margins of irrelevance. As a testimony to this last point, the reasons my local informants advanced to explain decline and cessation of Pla included no mention of clans. When asked about why the Pla stopped being celebrated throughout the Tshosum area, my local informants offered two main explanations. Firstly, Buddhist lamas and their followers from the dGe-lugs-pa school exerted pressure to stop celebrating the festival. Also, once the last hereditary bon po passed away, festivals became defunct due to lack of transmission of their bon shaman lineages, leading to loss of knowledge and skills along with the deceased ritual specialists. Both explanations are certainly credible, yet they also beg other larger and more complex questions about transformations occurring within the Tshosum during the decades preceding cessation of every Pla festival but one. Both types of informant explanations need to be viewed within the broader context of modern social history. Various local informants noted there had been pressure applied to stop the Pla by an orthodox Buddhist faction within the community at Lhau, and that this was part of a wider Buddhist sentiment opposed to “Bon” practice throughout Tawang more generally. At the regional level, certain dGe-lugs-pa lamas had regularly made negative pronouncements against Pla and “Bon” within the period of living memory. Their prejudice towards Pla was often publicly justified with statements that such rites involved animal sacrifice and were thus a moral anathema in Buddhist terms. Even during the period of my research, I heard identical reports of public pronouncements against “Bon” and sacrifice from communities in the Dirang region, and the names of the Buddhist lamas involved were of persons from the dGe-lugs-pa milieu of Tawang. Animal sacrifice is the venerable preoccupation of orthodox Tibetan lamas everywhere, yet it is far from sufficient on its own to explain a campaign against Pla. Sacrifices were not even used in every local Pla festival, nor for many other rites locally labelled as “Bon”, while adoption of vegetarian substitutes is a timehonoured and amenable compromise allowing local festivals to survive within Buddhist communities. This happened at many sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, including

throughout the Mon-yul Corridor. Thus, the religious pressures on Pla at Lhau were more particular. Within the Lhau community itself, certain senior males who followed orthodox Buddhist lamas campaigned for Pla to be stopped. In some cases, they proposed that an annual communal religious rite, such as chanting the Buddhist canon, replace Pla. There is confirmation from outside observers that these negative Buddhist attitudes towards Pla and “Bon” date back at least to the 1970s. Following his 1976 visit to the Tawang District, R.K. Billorey observed “As the Phlha festival was discouraged by Buddhist priests, it is celebrated now only in Lhou and a few other Monpa villages,” and “This explains why [...] little is known about it to the outside world and even the Monpa in some areas are unaware about its observance.”78 Several years later, Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf attended the 1980 Lhau Pla and commented: I had no opportunity to observe the ritual part of this Bon festival, and my informants were reluctant to say much about it, while they had freely talked about the Buddhist rites celebrated in the Tawang monastery. I felt that this reticence was due to a feeling that the archaic Bon cult is not as respectable a religion as orthodox Buddhism. It also seems that the monks of the Tawang monastery have a negative attitude to the Phla festival and the Bon rites in general, though they must be fully aware of their importance in the cultural and social life of Monpa villagers.79 Books written about the region of Tawang by educated members of its local community confirm Fürer-Haimendorf ’s observation. An example is the work by Tashi Lama (d. 1992), who gained a Masters degree at university in Bombay and who is credited with being “the first educated Monpa amongst the Monpas of the Tawang District”. He prepared a 100-page book entitled The Monpas of Tawang: A Profile (1999) on the basis of data he gathered while working as the state government’s Research Officer at Tawang throughout the 1980s.80 His book is replete with interesting material about the local culture and society of the region

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and its Buddhist traditions, yet contains not a single mention of any form of “Bon”, let alone Pla. In contrast to the reports just cited from the post-1960s era, historical evidence about Lhau and Tawang in general reveals that Srid-pa’i lha rites and specialists coexisted with Buddhism in local communities in some form of stable equilibrium over longer periods of time during the premodern era. This same pattern of tolerant coexistence is evident right throughout my entire research region, including any part of Bhutan where Srid-pa’i lha are worshipped, regardless of whether or not it was the bKa’-rgyud-pa or rNyingma-pa schools who had been locally dominant. We must ask why, specifically during the modern period, a deeper and systematically negative reaction towards Pla and other nonBuddhist or “Bon” village cultural phenomena arose within the local dGe-lugs-pa community of Tawang? My own assessment is that this development is closely connected with complex shifts in ethnic and religious power relations within the region, those which arose in the wake of British de-colonisation and the modern state formation pursued in earnest by both India and China during the 1950s. From an institutional perspective, the premodern Tawang Monastery and its smaller religious dependencies existed as a relatively unimportant and semi-autonomous branch of the huge and politically powerful Drepung Monastery near Lhasa in premodern Tibet. This connection was severed after 1950 when the newly independent Indian government took control of the Tawang region at the same time as the Chinese Communists occupied Tibet to the north. These developments had major impacts upon Tawang Monastery and the dGe-lugs-pa school within the Mon-yul Corridor. For one, the region served as an important route through which many high ranking Tibetan dGe-lugs-pa lamas – including the Dalai Lama and his entourage – and their monk students fled as refugees, with large groups of them even settled for a decade in camps within the region at Tenzingaon and Buxa. Secondly, by the late 1960s, a major revival of refugee Tibetan dGe-lugs-pa monasticism was in progress at sites around India, and we now know this to have been a strongly orthodox development. The post-1960s generation of lamas and monks at Tawang

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have had frequent and intensive contacts with this milieu of conservative Tibetan refugee lamas and their revived monasticism in India. Manifestations of Tibetan-inspired orthodoxy have not only been evident outside the monastic community at Tawang, but strongly felt within it as well. There are many examples of this. For instance, one can recall the exiled Fourteenth Dalai Lama’s direct appoint of a ‘reincarnate lama’ (bla sprul) to become the new throne holder of Tawang Monastery in 1968. He took this step on the grounds that all local candidates for the role where no longer considered celibate in line with orthodox interpretations of monastic vows.81 Another example is the recent removal from the monastery’s main protector shrine room of the statue of rDo-rje Shugs-ldan. That well-know deity was for long regarded as the principal guardian of Buddhism throughout Tawang by all local followers.82 On visits to Tawang Monastery’s protector shrine room during my field research, I noticed a large gap in the altar line-up of the site’s main dGe-lugs-pa protective deities. Outside, elderly monks told me in whispered tones that this space had recently held the main statue of rDo-rje Shugs-ldan. The altar space left empty by the statue’s removal was filled with a large pile of hundreds of white felicitation scarves – far more than could be seen at any other single shrine or statue within the entire monastery at the time. They had been deposited by local laypersons as a quiet protest at the disappearance of their valued protector. The removal of this statue had no basis in local Tawang cultural history when it occurred. Rather, it was part of an external campaign being pursued by powerful, orthodox Tibetan refugee clerics of the dGe-lugs-pa school in India, who sought to expunge the deity’s cult from their monastic system.83 Negative pronouncements against village “Bon” in the Monyul Corridor date back to the late 1960s and early 1970s, and have continued until recent times. In other words, they parallel precisely the period of increased inf luence from the revived and conservative dGe-lugs-pa monasticism of the Tibetan refugee community in India. Parallel cases in which the arrival of Tibetan refugee lamas into local Himalayan communities increased hostility towards, and lead to erosion of non-Buddhist cultural institutions can be found along the Himalayas.84

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

The cessation of hereditary transmission of bon po specialist roles is also intimately related to other modern developments that profoundly altered life in the region. My observation is that decades of exposure to a combination of modern education, mass media, new non-agrarian employment opportunities, novel economic aspirations associated with state development and private business, consumerism, and changes to the integrity of both family and community life due to social and economic mobility have fundamentally transformed the social horizons and strategies of many in the generations who were middle-aged and younger during the period of my research. There is no mystery here. In a context of rapid transformation, people have simply become aware of, or created other life choices and acted to realise them. A most obvious example seen everywhere throughout the Mon-yul Corridor over recent decades is the rapid decline of marriages arranged by and between families in line with premodern, normative prescriptions and preferences, and their rapid replacement by consensual or ‘love marriages’ agreed directly between the individual partners. Over the same period and within the same milieu of change, a range of other premodern social roles have fallen almost completely out of favour, among them that of hereditary ritual specialists within village communities. As I have observed already several times above, when hereditary bon po pass away without further transmission of their lineages, then Srid-pa’i lha worship either comes to a halt or becomes transformed into something fundamentally different due to adaptations introduced by substitute specialists familiar with other ritual systems and the cosmologies they entail. The examples of transformation cited above all imply more agency at the level of the individual, and a lower significance of social collectives with premodern roots. Throughout the Tshosum, both clans and village kachung units have dramatically declined in importance. Moreover, due to vastly increased mobility, more people have simply moved away from their natal hamlets to live and work elsewhere. The immediacy of regular face-to-face encounters and dependence upon local relationships and resource bases which maintained the meaningfulness of clan and kachung inevitably became attenuated and fell away. A good example of this relating to communal ritual was already mentioned

above. When Lhau Buddhists attempted to replace the Pla festival with a new community ceremony involving the reading of Buddhist scriptures, the initiative completely failed to generate any collective enthusiasm and cooperation, and the plan flopped. The continuing relevance of the range of goals and perceived benefits Pla promised to worshippers – fertility, maintenance of life, protection from external treats, reduction of uncertainty, and so on – should also be considered. These were obviously already attractive enough motivations for the long-term, premodern maintenance of Pla as a means of ritual redress to help secure life’s basis. All available records show that premodern agrarian village dwellers in the Mon-yul Corridor faced enough serious existential challenges in the form of heavy taxation burdens imposed by an annexing power, raiding by neighbouring populations, natural disasters, epidemic diseases, to name but a few, to make the perceived benefits of Pla highly attractive. Most of these challenges have become increasingly and convincing addressed by modern interventions since the 1950s. The Tshosum part of Tawang was the first subregion to receive modern development and remains the most advanced in this respect until today. 85 Such innovations include provision of public and private healthcare and education, public revenue systems which are locally viewed as opportunities in spite of corruption, all-weather roads and telecommunications, development of agriculture and animal husbandry, local law and order from police and justice systems, regional security from a professional army, elected local political representation within the larger state system, and state aid for natural disasters. With much of the suffering and insecurity of premodern living conditions removed or significantly ameliorated, there needs to be another basis for continuation of local ritual systems beyond traditional aspirations. The study of Thempang Lhasöshe in the previous chapter revealed to some extent how this can occur. At the time I attended Bapu Lhasöshe, the festival also served as a means of focussing collective identity and reforging relations among a community that was becoming dispersed and fragmented due to the circumstances of modern life.

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Regardless of all the combined forces seemingly counting against the continued vitality and survival of Pla festivals, the Lhau Pla only finally ceased in 1998. It appears to have been a rather slow death, especially compared with other Pla around the Tawang area that disappeared much earlier. The effects of modern transformations are neither necessarily unidirectional nor inevitably lead to any predictable consequences. This was certainly the case in relation to the Pla at Lhau during the decades leading up to its cessation. In fact, the festival survived as a viable community event for as long as it did due to new possibilities opened by the presence of the modern Indian state, possibilities that were exploited by certain agents within the Lhau community.

12.8 Transformations: Pla as Spectacle The Lhau Pla is the only Srid-pa’i lha festival throughout the entire research region for which any pre-twenty-first century eyewitness accounts by outsiders exist. There is a reason for this. During the 1970s, the Lhau Pla became something of a spectacle for displaying ‘exotic’ and ‘colourful’ local culture to outsiders, but specifically to invited ‘V.I.P.’ visitors. This development was almost single-handedly the doing of the late Pema Gombu (d. 2011), 86 the long-serving and enterprising gaonbura or headman of the Lhau tsho (pl. 171). On 8 August 1971, Pema Gombu wrote a remarkable letter of appeal to the then Chief Minister of the state government of Arunachal Pradesh. An unedited transcription of his missive entitled “Grant in-aid of Flah Festival” is as follows: Sir, Most humbly and respectfully, I beg to state the following few lines for favour of your kind consideration and necessary action. (I) That sir, Flah Festival is one of the greatest social festival of the Tsoksum area (Tawang administration circle) which is observed for five days just after one month of Losar [i.e., local New Year] festival. The famous lama dance depicts the origin of the earth with its gradual evolution of creatures,

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evolution of human beings and the [way] people of Bon-faith in the past were. (II) Though the Flah festival is one of the greatest festival in Tsoksum area, our administration had not yet given recognition of this great festival. We the people of Tawang Tsoksum have not got any sanction for this festival from our administration. (III) In [sic.] for the observance of this festival we have to purchase various kinds of things and also to feed all the people of Tawang sub-Divn. participating in this festival. (IV) Though we the people of Tawang Tsoksum contribute for this festival nearly 5000.00 (five thousand) [Indian rupees] only excluding labour charges every year. This contribution does not meat [sic.] the minimum expenditure required for this purpose. (V) This is the second time that we have submitted this proposal in hope of getting financial help from administration to celebrate Flah in Tsoksum area with the befitting manner. (VI) This is the only festival of the people of Bon-faith in where every body take part and show how Monpas celebrated this great Social-Religious festival worshipped Bon before Buddhism came to Tawang. And the ancient Monpa Culture can be reflected here in this festival. Therefore I earnestly request you kindly to grant in-aid for Flah festival, so that we can celebrate enthusiastically. For this kindness we the people of Tawang Tsoksum will remain grateful to you. Yours faithfully, [signature] Pema Gombu G.B. Lhou Village. On behalf of Tawang Tsoksum.87 This was not Pema Gombu’s first such letter on the matter to the Chief Minister. To ensure a response, this version was also copied to the Additional Deputy Commissioner Tawang, the Circle Officer (Culture) at Bomdila where the administrative headquarters of West Kameng District are located, as well as to the Chairman of the Culture Society

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

Tawang. We have no record of any official written responses to this letter. However, in all likelihood, as a result of this and other such petitions, the scholar R.K. Billorey was specifically tasked by the Directorate of Research within the state government to observe and document Pla at Lhau during his research tour there in April 1976. While Billorey was at Lhau, it was Pema Gombu himself who explained the meaning of the rites to the government scholar. These details were then repeated together with Billorey’s own observations in his published and unpublished reports about his Tawang tour. His visit to Lhau certainly left Billorey effusive about the festival, as he noted in a personal comment at the end of his official report to the Director of Research: In the celebration of the Phlha festival, the Monpas, particularly of the Lhou village, have kept alive the most colourful aspects of their age old tradition with all its primitive simplicity and gaiety, freedom and spontaneity and we may hope that the Monpas in other areas also will strive to revive and sustain this colourful festival.88 Handwritten remarks on the file by Billorey’s superiors particularly stated that his “note on Phlha festival is quite interesting”, and suggest his field report should be passed onto others within government to read. By the late 1970s, Pema Gombu’s drawing attention to the Lhau Pla had clearly generated the outcomes he had originally envisaged, as witnessed by Nehru Nanda on her visit to a Pla at Lhau during the late 1970s: Plah survives in its most ceremonial form in Lhou village where it is celebrated every April as a distinct event with government grants for purchase of finery, feasting and merry making. There is pitching of tents, shamianas, microphones, V.I.P.’s and speech making – all the modern paraphernalia.89 As the top-ranking Indian civil servant stationed in Tawang at the time, Nehru Nanda was no doubt herself the invited V.I.P. who had to give a speech during the festival. The shamiana she mentioned here refers to a type of ceremonial

tent or awning commonly used for wedding parties or communal feasts on the Indian plains. While no such structure had ever been a part of Pla, which was a completely open-air event like all Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals, Pema Gombu installed white cloth tents upon the Pla leng to entertain special visitors. Inside these tents, performances of local folk dances and songs by village women were arranged, with food and drinks served to visiting spectators. Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf was himself an invited V.I.P. guest at Pla in April 1980, when he witnessed and photographed the spectacle staged inside one such tent (pl. 183). I showed copies of Fürer-Haimendorf ’s 1980 photographs to my informants at Lhau during the course of photo elicitation interviews. Among many reactions to the images, such as identifying themselves or their relatives, informants immediately and candidly remarked that folk dance performances for V.I.P. guests within a tent were certainly not a part of the “real Pla”. They were identified instead as an additional “Monpa culture show”, organised by the gaonbura specifically to impress his business and political contacts while he attempted to strike deals with them on the sidelines during their visits to the festival. The informants also added that invited guests were most often those holding senior positions within the Indian administration or in some way associated with higher levels of government. Fürer-Haimendorf himself was a typical example. He visited Tawang as a V.I.P. during a period when the region remained highly restricted to all foreign nationals. He managed his access to Tawang with the cooperation of R.N. Haldipur, then Lieutenant Governor of Arunachal Pradesh. Haldipur was a veteran administrator involved in the Government of India’s rural and tribal development policies during the 1960s and 1970s, and one with whom Fürer-Haimendorf had enjoyed longstanding contacts.90 During three decades of observing communities in various Himalayan hill areas, I have noted that those which are earliest to be exposed to high levels of modern transformation and infrastructure are also the first to modify or abandon communal rites, and sometimes to ‘reinvent’ distinctly modern alternatives to their premodern practices. Given that almost all Pla festivals around Tawang had gradually

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î Plate 183. Lhau village women performing folk dance and songs to entertain visitors inside a shamiana tent during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980.

died out during the second half of the twentieth century, and that Lhau was located upon the main road to Tawang, and thus subjected early on to many modern state interventions, it is perhaps remarkable that the Lhau Pla continued to be performed up until 1998. Lhau informants were of the opinion that their Pla lasted for as long as it did due to it becoming a particular arena within which invited dignitaries from well beyond the region could be received and entertained. Pla thus gained a specific type of modern value. For a series of foreign and Indian guests, Pla became an exclusive cultural spectacle at which one could experience exotic ‘Bon’ aspects of a remote ‘hill tribe’ society right on the doorstep of mysterious Tibet. Thanks to Pema Gombu, this experience itself was had in relative comfort and safety, providing easy photo opportunities (pl. 184), as well as a story that could be shared later with families, friends and colleagues down upon the distant Indian plains, and added to memoirs of service to the nation in its remotest corners.

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We can end with a final reflection on an attempt to revive Pla during 1999. This revival was the intention of several young, male residents of Lhau who had received modern college educations in distant Indian cities such as New Delhi. After some years of being well-removed from local life, these young men returned to their home region with new perspectives on the value of their community’s social identity and its cultural heritage, but also with fresh suspicions about the motives and activities of Tawang’s established social, political and religious elites. Their sincere efforts to motivate the community to restage Pla quickly came to nothing due to a variety of reasons. However, there was one reason that they had now been ‘educated’ to overlook or underestimate. In part, these young agents of revival came up against a level of local Buddhist resistance to continuing the festival, as well as a predictable community apathy arising from the increasing impact of modern transformations upon the lives of all Lhau inhabitants. But more seriously, they faced a specific cultural objection voiced against the revival from within the community. It was considered that Pla could not be staged without the central involvement of

The Pla Festi va l of Lh au

é Plate 184. Lhau gaonbura Pema Gombu (l.) and invited Indian guests posing with beydungpa during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, early 1990s.

its traditional ritual specialists, the hereditary bon po, who had by 1998 all passed away with no heirs stepping forward to succeed them. The bon po not only embodied specialist knowledge transmitted over generations, and behavioural observances that made them the most morally acceptable intermediaries between a community and its ancestral deities, but they also had their authority and power to safely perform the rites transmitted to them via descent, in the form of their personal auxiliaries who were also their own ancestors. It is often said of lha that they are habituated to dealing with these bon po and their descent lines, and no invocation of, or exchange with the deities could be considered efficacious or even safe without them. The message

from the Lhau community was clear – Pla was no mere ‘folk festival’ that could simply be re-enacted using spectacular external displays of costumes and bro steps by those lacking the established criteria. Once bereft of its traditional cosmological and moral basis, and the hereditary ritual specialists who maintained and embodied that, Pla could not be continued in another form. During my field research, I encountered the same community attitude at several sites in Bhutan, where Srid-pa’i lha worship had ceased and was consciously not revived for these reasons.

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13.

Wild A ni m a l s, Ta lism a ns a n d M i m ick ing

Rites for ensuring plentiful game have been a central aspect of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Wild animals, fish and birds represented a significant resource for maintaining premodern rural societies in this part of the Himalayas. The availability and indeed abundance and regular reappearance of game animals in the natural world, and hunters’ ability to successfully obtain them, are both obvious components of a cult focussed upon periodic revitalisation or renewal of life. However, these rites have been in decline across the region due to various factors addressed below. Intact rites for ensuring game abundance and hunting success, or ritual techniques which employed wild animal bodies, were already scarcely found in Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals when I undertook my field research. The Yizhin Norbu rite featuring in the Tsango festival documentation (ch. 9) had been subject to much recent transformation when I recorded it, while the glud rite featuring the stag described in the Changmadung study (ch. 10) was a mere fragment of a degraded tradition. Due to this, data from a range of additional research field sites (map 7) is presented in this chapter. This allows a better overview of recurring ritual elements and themes that are regionally evident, and it illustrates the possible scope and goals of rites featuring hunting and wild animals within the cult. Both the importance of rites related to the theme of hunting and wild animals, and their recent decline and cessation in the context of Srid-pa’i lha worship, must be viewed in the historical context of the past century. Prior to the mid-twentieth century, hunting and fishing were significant subsidiary activities in virtually all rural, subsistence economies across east Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. Furthermore, despite the dominance of Buddhism, it is well documented that the region’s main premodern political elites

actively encouraged hunting and even endowed it with the status of a ‘noble’ activity. The Tibetan Ganden Phodrang government who annexed and ruled the Mon-yul Corridor required that many village communities supply a portion of their annual taxes in the form of wild animal skins, musk pods, bear’s gall and other high value wild animal products that could be gained only through hunting. 1 In Bhutan, prior to the 1950s, the Wangchuk Dynasty kings, as well as male scions of royal collateral families and some secular officials and military personnel, hunted big game proudly and openly,2 in the same manner as other premodern Himalayan and South Asian political elites. In the folk culture of villages around eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, practices, stories and symbolic references related to hunting abound as traces of hunting’s former status. Tashi Lama, a government research officer at Tawang during the 1980s,3 provided a prime example of this within his own Dakpa speaking community when he recorded a rite performed to ease the delivery of a new baby. During advanced stages of labour, the pregnant woman’s grandfather, or the classificatory ‘grandfather’ of the household, was called to come with bow and arrow. He waved the weapon over the mother’s body three times without touching her, while repeating the following verse to the unborn child three times, and in which the child was ideally addressed as a male issue using the respectful kin term ashang: Let us go fishing to the river below, brave ashang. Let us go hunting to the mountain above, brave ashang. Let us hasten to the lama at the monastery, brave ashang. Come! Come! Brave ashang. Don’t send difficulties [during birth] to your mother.4

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Throughout the Mon-yul Corridor during my field research, I was able to collect dozens of oral narratives concerning hunters and hunting from every community, but particularly in narratives related to origins and identity. Nicholas Allen demonstrated that these stories and their hunting motifs belong to a pan-Himalayan form of articulating origins, and in which hunters and the hunt represent search and discovery aspects of tales.5 The mithun search motif in the Thempang glud rabs (ch. 11), or local A-lce lHa-mo narratives of Mkha’ ’gro ’gro ba bzang mo and Mon ka la dbang po closely associated with the Mon-yul Corridor are good examples of this.6 During the past half century, however, the positive or neutral premodern status accorded to hunting and hunters right across the region has become almost entirely reversed. Of the four main festival documentations presented in chapters 9 through 12, only at the Lhamoche in Tsango did I find a rite related to hunting and wild animals – the Yizhin Norbu offering – still somewhat intact. And, in that case, we know this rite had undergone rapid and significant modifications within the past few decades. Informants regularly reported that rites for hunting success or those which used wild animal bodies, have – along with blood sacrifice – been an active target for the missionary activities of Buddhist lamas. In all instances known to me, these lamas had the status of ‘outsiders’ in relation to the Srid-pa’i lha worship communities they placed under pressure to abandon such practices. Buddhist specialists within Srid-pa’i lha worship communities have not engaged in the same campaigns towards their fellow villagers, and have generally been more tolerant towards mundane rites that contradict normative Buddhist tenets. Most Srid-pa’i lha worship communities have attempted to reasonably accommodate the moral dogmas preached by missionary lamas, since they themselves all participate in village Buddhism in terms of ritual practice and social identity. Only a few communities have actively resisted the lamas’ calls for reform. However, in those latter cases I recorded, such active resistance was mainly rooted in the identity politics of regionalism and Buddhist sectarianism, rather than being a defence of the rites requiring taking of life, per se. Examples of this include lamas from Tawang going south to Dirang to try and supress local practices, or Tibetan refugee clerics from one Buddhist school with their

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major institutions based outside the region trying to preach against the customs of local communities with a different sectarian identity. While such Buddhist agency has played a role in the decline and cessation of hunting rites in many Srid-pa’i lha festivals, aspects of modernisation have also gradually been forcing a recontextualisation of the relationship between humans and wildlife across the region. The officially Buddhist and aid-dependant Bhutanese state, together with certain of its foreign donor-patrons and various international conservation organisations, have together ensured that all types of hunting – including killing to control wild pest animals degrading agricultural production – are crimes strictly punishable under national law. In the neighbouring Mon-yul Corridor, where the Indian state has had manifestly different priorities to those of Bhutan, in addition to Buddhist lamas from both within and outside the region sermonising against local economic and cultural practices like hunting and sacrifice, international and national conservation organisations and NGOs have been working to reduce and eliminate hunting. The overall result throughout the region is that, nowadays, the hunt has become highly stigmatised, illegal – and therefore burdened with more risks that it already entailed – and an activity, when undertaken at all, that is always done in a most discreet or clandestine manner.

13.1 Nawan Rites As was clear from the Tsango and Changmadung documentations in chapters 9 and 10, nawan has been a central concept in rites concerning hunting and wild animals in Dzala and Khengkha speaking worship communities, as we also know it to have been among those communities speaking Kurtöp and Chocha-ngacha. Nawan refers to the rites of offering wild game meat to ancestral deities and those beings who appear to preside over the welfare or ownership of wildlife resources. The word nawan designates the actual animals and their body parts or ‘meat’, which constitute these offerings. It also applies to those replica animals that substitute for real ones in the same rites. The term was not recorded in the Mon-yul Corridor, although rites identical

Wild A nim a ls, Ta lism a ns a nd M imicking

to those called nawan elsewhere are practiced there, too. In the contexts investigated so far, nawan is closely related to the concept of talisman and the performance of various types of mimicking in rites. A talisman is an object endowed with transformative power, and one that brings positive results for those who possess it, while mimicking in ritual contexts is also transformative based upon the logic of equivalence and magical agency. The term nawan itself is somewhat vexing. Not only do we find it applied exclusively within the context of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, it is also a misfit in its current linguistic environment. In both these respects, it resembles the term zhe referring to ‘ancestral being/deity’. It is possible nawan encodes an old ritual concept from a remote ancestor population, and I will explore the word’s probable origins in chapter 17. When considered comparatively, all the available records of rites either explicitly termed nawan, or which are very similar and at times identical to those elsewhere known as nawan, reveal at least three different types of procedures, which nevertheless do all overlap. One type is represented by the Yizhin Norbu rite (ch. 9). A single, larger game animal is offered after being obtained using a form of communal ritual hunt led by the bon shaman himself, and during which the hunters are virile men from the worship community. No further comment will be made of that type here. A second type of nawan for which we have detailed evidence is the specific use of the heads of larger game animals, birds and fish in rites, which in the case of the large game also entails a communal ritual hunt involving the bon shaman. A third type of nawan rite involves neither real hunting nor actual animals, for both are the subject of mimicry by designated ritual performers, or are represented by talismanic substitutes. I will now present accounts of the second and third types of rites not covered in the previous chapters.

13.2 Nawan and Animal Heads Lawa, Khoma Chu Valley Although the use of rites and offerings named nawan are found at a range of sites, during my field research I only

came across one bon shaman manuscript collection in which the complete text of an actual Na wan rabs or Nawan Narrative was recorded detailing preparation of the nawan altar. In the same collection, additional chants associated with performing nawan offerings have also been recorded in writing. Both these texts are included in the main working manuscripts of the plami at Lawa, in the lower Khoma Chu valley. However, as I found at so many sites, a nawan rite was no longer performed during Lawa’s annual Pla festival at the time of my field research. Informants think nawan may have been stopped by the missionary rNying-ma-pa lama Chos-dbyings Rang-grol, who stayed at and was active in Lawa village and other lower Khoma valley communities around the turn of the twentieth century.7 This Buddhist figure is also credited with halting blood sacrifice of domestic animals used in local rites. Whatever the case may be, my own opinion is that nawan probably also ceased due to more complex causes, including a general decline in ritual participation related to the impact of modernisation upon the village. The final wording in the Lawa Na wan rabs reveals that the rite required participation by a group of young, male lha’i bu. We know from parallel rites at other sites that the lha’i bu would have hunted and fished to obtain the requisite animals. When I observed the Pla festival at Lawa, no young men performed as lha’i bu, since many were absent due to education and employment opportunities at sites remote from the village. The community was even hardpressed during 2012 to find four pre-pubescent girls to act as the pla’i lcam who are in some respects female equivalents of the lha’i bu role. The language in both nawan texts from Lawa is a mixture of Dzala and Kurtöp usages blended with Classical Tibetan. This reflects Lawa’s position directly at the linguistic frontier between speakers of the two languages, and the fact that the Lawa plami also serves the Kurtöp speaking community of Gangzur (ch. 7). The written Na wan rabs of Lawa lacks a mythical prelude and is somewhat generic (sha ‘deer’ stands for all larger wild herbivores as game animals), yet its descriptive content on altar preparation is very informative and enables comparisons with other data sets. The reference to Phya – pronounced Cha or Pcha, depending upon the community – it contains represents the title of the lha

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recipients of the nawan offering who are the ancestral deities of the Srid-pa’i lha type in the Kurtö region. Phya here is thus equivalent to the Pla title used throughout most of the adjacent Dzala and Dakpa speaking zones: [14a...]

Now, the Na wan Narrative will be explained:

There is a nine-shelf altar for the Phya. On the upper altar, there is a shelf for the meat [offering]. On the upper altar, there is the shelf for the deer. When shooting on the summits of three hills, [14b] Having taken hold of the bow with your left hand, Loose off the arrow with your right hand, then Many deer heads will come for the na wan. On the upper altar, there is the shelf for the deer. There is a nine-shelf altar for the Phya. On the middle altar, there is a shelf for the meat [offering]. On the middle altar, there is the shelf for the bird. When setting a trap in the midst of the forest, Having blocked [the area] with a fence using your left hand, Set the trapping noose with your right hand, then Many bird heads will come for the na wan. On the middle altar, there is the shelf for the bird. On the lower altar, there is a shelf for the meat [offering]. On the lower altar, there is the shelf for the fish. [15a] When trapping fish8 at the confluence of the three rivers, Having sealed it upstream with the left hand, Remove the barbs with the right hand, then Many fish heads will come for the na wan. On the lower altar, there is the shelf for the fish. There is a nine-shelf altar for the Phya. Our shelf, that for the lha’i bu, has been made on one altar. With that, the Na wan Narrative is completed.9 The second nawan text from Lawa records the words chanted when the animal offerings are presented (btang ‘sent’, nang ‘given’) to the Phya. 10 It identifies the recipients as the lHa-mo Phya, who are the abu ‘elder sister’

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deities called Yum-gsum or Yum-gsum Gra-ba worshipped as ancestors at Lawa (pl. 13). The chant also lists the real wild herbivores actually offered to the female Phya as being a skyem di, a rgya ’di,11 and a bha sha, whereas the wild birds are a babs bya and a kham khu. A similar list of game animals and birds are offered to the female Phya awu ‘elder sister’ Grang-bya-mo at Shawa, further up the valley in Kurtö.12 It is possible to identify some of these species. Here, kyem di is a common designation for both the goral, two species of which (Naemorhedus baileyi and Naemorhedus goral) have overlapping distributions in this region, albeit that the same word can also be applied to the takin (Budorcus taxicolor).13 Somewhat confusingly, the word basha or bhasha also describes the goral in some areas, while serow (Nemorhaedus [Capricornus] sumatraensis) and Himalayan thar (Hemitragus jemlahicus) are generally designated by kya, kyadi, gya, gyadi and cha[k]badi. However, identifications of what speakers are referring to with these words are difficult without seeing the actual animal or its parts. Thus, for the historical nawan at Lawa, we can say with confidence that a range of wild goat species constituted the large animal offerings, and this accords with records from Tsango and the Monyul Corridor (see below) where wild goats such as goral and takin often represent the ideal species. This is ecologically and economically realistic, since in all these areas, wild goat species also constitute the hunter’s main bag of wild herbivores – although takin were virtually never obtained in recent decades due to their declining population. The name babs bya ‘descending bird’ is applied to several species of large pheasants which glide downhill (and downstream) in autumn and winter, and which are hunted for food, and the kham khu is either a smaller partridge or quail species.14

Upper Kholong Chu Valley The second set of textual records we have of such rites occur in a manuscript recording the narrative of origin and migration from southern Tibet into north-eastern Bhutan of three clans claiming descent from the Srid-pa’i lha. This text, the Lha’i gsung rabs, is translated and discussed in detail in chapter 16 and appendix K. The ritual actors in the narrative here are members of migrating clans moving from

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southern Tibet into adjacent Himalayan valleys of northeastern Bhutan where they settle: They arranged a nine-shelf altar and worshipped. The top of the upper altar was adorned with the head of a deer and offered. The top of the lower altar was adorned with the head of a fish and offered. The top of the middle altar was adorned with the head of a small bird and offered. For the head of the deer, they cast the offering up. For the head of the fish, they cast the offering down. For the head of the small bird, they cast the offering in between.15 This rite, which is given no specific name, is only described once in the narrative, and from contextual information we can be certain the setting of performance was the upper Kholong Chu valley, probably within the Bumdeling area. Moreover, it is presented as a step within a more complex series of ninefold offerings, and other practices. All together, the description in the text generally adds up to the type of ensemble that constitutes Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals today.

clan

ritual site

deity

na ban offering

Khu, gNam-sa, Yar-lung Se-ru

pho lha ’Odserow/thar, de Gung-rgyal wild pig

Khu, gNam-sa, sPang-dkar Se-ru Ser-mo (sNyal-stod)

pho lha sNyal- female deer lha

Khu, gNam-sa, lDan-yul KyidSe-ru ’khar (lHo-brag Shar)

pho lha Khu- Tibetan gazelle? brang-zhe, pho lha gNam-’dir-zhe

Khu

sMan-bu Sheb (Bumdeling)

serow/thar, wild pig

lHo’u (cf. lHo)

Kyed-te-mag (Bumdeling)

serow/thar, wild pig

é Figure 21. Wild animal offerings by early clan ancestors.

In the Lha’i gsung rabs we also find a separate set of references to a series of rites named na ban, which today is pronounced nawan the same as written na wan. The rites involve offerings of wild animals by the early clan ancestors as they move from place to place while migrating through southern Tibet into north-east Bhutan (fig. 21). The na ban rite is performed when a new ritual site is established in an area at which the clan ancestors arrive and halt along their migration route. This route progresses south from Yar-lung to gNyal, then west into lHo-brag Shar, and finally south into the upper Kholong Chu valley around Bumdeling where they begin to settle permanently. Thus, the na ban is presented by clan members to those lha who are titled as ‘ancestor-progenitors’ (bzhe, mes mes) and patriclan and agnatic deities (pho lha). The narrative content appears to betray the addition of Yar-lung for the sake of mythical completeness (see ch. 16). A clue is that the game animals used for the na ban at Yar-lung, namely the serow or thar, and the wild pig, are those dwelling and hunted in Himalayan valleys with steep cliffs and thick vegetation, and not at all known from arid, high plateau environments such as the wider Yar-lung region. Another unique feature of this account is the role of a ritual assistant termed zhel de, although this term is no longer found in colloquial speech. The zhel de was responsible for kindling a fire for the na ban rite, and in my observations this ritual step always attended actual offering of any wild animals in Srid-pa’i lha rites, while the zhel de also cooked for the lhami ritual specialists and caught fish for the purpose. The term no doubt relates to Old Tibetan zhal ta pa indicating a ritual assistant to lha bon po and sku gshen specialists who performed rites called rtse bla, rtse sman and g.yang, and who were involved in the supplication of deities classed as yul lha yul bdag and sman. The same term was used also to designate assistants to the dur bon po and sku gshen specialists for certain death rites.16 All these older ritual instructions and descriptions in manuscripts from the Khoma Chu valley discussed above can be compared with ethnographic observations of the central rites in Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged at distant sites. The main example I will draw upon concerns several communities living along the mid- to upper course of the Sangti River

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valley in Dirang district of the Mon-yul Corridor. I participated in and observed their annual Srid-pa’i lha festivals during December 2009 and early January 2010. While these festivals are both complex events, I will limit my account strictly to the main rites featuring the hunting and offering of wild animals.

Upper Sangti Valley, Dirang During the period of my field research, on the seventeenth and eighteenth days of the eleventh Tibetan lunar month, parallel festivals variously named Lhasökha (cf. CT lha gsol kha), Lhasöshe, Chis, Chisöshe or Chisöbo by different informants were staged at two sites within the Sangti valley. One festival took place upstream at Phudung village,17 the other downstream at Sangti village.18 The social organisation of these two worship communities by clan (tshan) and into ceremonial groups resembles – and to a degree emulates – that found at Dirang Busti and Thempang. 19 These parallel festivals at Sangti and Phudung villages were intimately related due to ritual exchanges of tshogs materials between the respective worship communities, and the presence of members of both communities at each others’ events. The rites staged at Phudung are of primary interest in the present context. The Phudung festival was performed in a sacred grove of oaks situated on the opposite bank (i.e., true right bank) of the Sangti River from the settlement. The local origin myth for the festival cites the offering of wild animals as its central rite. A version of this oral antecedent narrative was given in chapter 4, and a recapitulation of its outline is as follows. The primordial ritual specialist, Bon Tonpa Shenrab, solves a crisis of lack of vitality – manifesting as illness and dwindling population – being faced by the inhabitants of the Sangti valley. He prescribes in detail a revitalisation rite they must address to their phu ‘highland’ deity Tong Zawaka, also known as Ata Shabchang. This deity identity is complex and betrays various layers of social and cultural assimilation, typical of many of the genius loci along the Mon-yul Corridor. It is impossible to say definitively that it has one origin or another. Some aspects of its cult reveal

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é Plate 185. Head of a gasha (Muntiacus spp.) being stored prior to placement within a shalung structure, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2009.

links to Bugun settlers in the area, others are related to the presence of Tshangla speakers, and still further aspects are those of the Srid-pa’i lha cult from the north. Thus, the deity is mythically assimilated to ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the local ritual texts, as is the case at Thempang and Sangti not too far away. In the origin narrative, this deity must be given the heads of three types of wild creatures, those of takin, of fish and of two bird species locally named jun and zhangka. If this is done, people and their livestock will become fertile and increase, and game and fish supplies will be assured. In preparation for the festival, a communal hunt must be staged within the month beforehand to ensure the required large game animal is obtained. Compared with ordinary

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domestic hunts, this communal exercise is strictly regulated by a set of conventions and directly involves the bon po, thus it can be considered as a ‘ritual hunt’ of sorts. All able-bodied men living in the upper valley settlements who hail from long-established clans with kremi status, and thus regarded as belonging to the primary ceremonial groups for the festival, attended this hunt, together with the bon po. It took the form of a battue or ‘drive hunt’ (khonsha) with beaters and dogs driving any animals towards waiting hunters armed with bows and arrows and firearms. Setting various types of traps is the preferred hunting method in the area, but the ritual requirement that the animal used for the festival must be chased and killed on the move by men with premodern weapons such as bows and arrows rules out any use of traps in this case. Prior to commencing the hunt, the bon po himself performed a rite to ensure hunting success. In the forest, he erected twelve small paper flags (pan) no longer than a finger and mounted near the top of freshly cut sticks (panshing), the lengths of which are cleaned of vegetation except for a small topknot of leaves left at the apex. These same flags are used during Srid-pa’i lha worship (pls. 153, 214, 215) across the zone where Dzala and Dakpa speakers are settled, or where their historical influence is evident. These small flags were set up in a row at thirty centimetre intervals. The bon po then verbally appealed to the phu, ‘Now we are commencing a hunt. Please give us a gasha! Spare us any accidents during the hunt! Please spare us any encounters with wild carnivores [i.e., bear or leopard] while we are hunting!’20 Following this, the hunt began. Up until the mid-twentieth century, these hunting parties accompanied by the bon po staged expeditions up into the ranges south of the Kangtö massif to kill a takin for the festival. Since takin became either extremely rare or locally extinct along the Mon-yul Corridor, 21 smaller species of deer or wild goats serve as an acceptable alternative. During 2009-2010 when I observed festivals, a muntjac or barking deer (gasha or khasha, CT kha sha; Muntiacus muntjak) was successfully killed for the offering by the communal hunting party in the headwaters of the Sangti River. Once the animal was killed, its head was removed and carefully packed for transport back to the village for the rites. The carcass of the animal was divided ad hoc amongst the hunting party for

their own consumption since that meat was not to be used in the rituals. There is a rule that if no takin or deer are successfully hunted prior to the festival, then a sheep may be killed and its head used as a substitute, and this occurred for the first time in living memory during the festival staged in 2011. Since the muntjac was killed many days before the festival was due to start, its head was placed in cold storage inside a refrigerator at one of the village houses (pl. 185). In addition to the head of a large game animal, heads of the jun and zhangka birds should be obtained. For some decades, these two types of birds had not been found for use in the festival. This is due to an overall decline in faunal and avifaunal diversity throughout the region as a result of increasing local deforestation occurring from the midtwentieth century on.22 While traditional use of these bird species was still well remembered at the time of my field research, it had been dropped in practice with no suitable substitute coming into consideration. Finally, the heads of several fish must also be used during the rites. Supplying these, however, is not the duty of the upper valley worship community, but that of Sangti village downstream. They catch three or four large fish in the Sangti River just prior to the festival and deliver the heads from these up to Phudung for use by the bon po. The day prior to the festival, a conically shaped, ‘tepee’- or ‘hut’-like structure about three metres in height with a circular base was erected as the focal point for rites in Phudung’s sacred grove (pl. 186). It had a roomy internal cavity for holding the items to be offered. This structure is termed shalung, which is an extremely rare and ancient ritual term used in relation to rites involving wild animals, and found in manuscripts radiometrically dated to the eleventh century period. I discuss the older background of slungs, sha slungs and shalung in chapter 15 and appendix J. The shalung structure is erected at precisely the same spot during every festival. Its location is calculated in relation to a line of flat stones set into the earth in the middle of the sacred grove, and which now mark seating positions for representatives of each ceremonial group. The shalung was constructed from green, leafy branches of several evergreen trees. The main structure should be made from leafy branches of shargremshing

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(Viburnum cylindricum). This is widely used for Srid-pa’i lha rites in Dirang district. It is perceived as one of the ‘pure’ lha shing trees used to represent the vertical cosmic axis. If shargremshing is unavailable, Himalayan oak (Quercus spp.) is also used. The shalung is said to be ‘decorated with/ adorned by precious things’ (rinchen gyen, cf. CT rin chen [b]rgyan). This consists of flowering branches of Rhododendron spp., and long lengths of the white pith of a shrub that are extracted from branches and rolled into coils mounted upon sticks, plus a decorative plaque with feather crests, all added to the front face of the shalung (pl. 187). This is not merely for decoration, as the name suggests. Rather, the flowers represent the commonly found regional use of this medium as ‘landing pads’ and temporary seats for lha upon altars and shrine structures. The other devices are identical to the type found incorporated into the headgear of those cult ritual specialists in the Mon-yul Corridor who host Srid-pa’i lha deities and auxiliary beings upon their headgear (cf. pls. 37, 148).

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ï Plate 186. The bon po (r.) and his ritual assistant (l.) seated in front of the shalung structure, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2010.

é Plate 187. ‘Precious decorations’ on the upper part of the shalung structure, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2010.

Variations on the shalung structure used for an identical ritual purpose are found south of Dirang. They occur in both the annual Rahungpa Chiksaybu and Sherdukpen Khiksaba clan festivals most closely cognate with Srid-pa’i lha festivals.23 Both of these communities speak related languages of the Kho-Bwa cluster. The basic form, construction and ritual use of the shalung is strongly reminiscent of a ritual hut termed bhelaghar (pl. 188) that is used just south of the research region in Assam, to celebrate the post-harvest festival called Bhogali Bihu or Magh Bihu. These festivals are unique to the Assamese, albeit nowadays assimilated by

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them to the formal identity of “Hinduism” as that term represents the particular syncretic form of religion practiced in Assam. Bhogali Bihu is staged each winter around midJanuary, and thus at about the same time as Shalung rites in Dirang. Nowadays, this festival is dedicated to positive, future fertility of fields and fruit tree plantations. There are a range of similarities between the respective rites performed at both the bhelaghar and the shalung structures.24 Bhogali Bihu and the festivals of the central Mon-yul Corridor I am describing here are not the only calendric revitalisation

é Plate 188. A bhelaghar structure for use during the Bhogali Bihu festival, Gauhati area, Assam, 2012.

rites shared between the hills and plains in this region. A highly cognate set of practices in which naked persons perform seasonal rites full of sexual allusions and dedicated to fertility of the land and access to its harvestable resources are uniquely shared between certain peoples of the Monyul Corridor, eastern Bhutan and populations of adjacent western Assam. Elsewhere, I have described the kengpa rites practiced within my research region, 25 and a further example of such rites called Sargangri Karpo Söshe is given below, while the Hudum rituals found among speakers of Bodo-Koch languages in western Assam represent the closest sub-regional parallels.26 The indications just mentioned certainly reflect the ritual culture of an earlier regional population substratum speaking Tibeto-Burman languages and who staged calendric revitalisation rites. Elements of such traditions would have become incorporated and survived within thematically related Assamese communal festivals and rites such as Bhogali Bihu and Hudum, as well as in the rites of some bon shamans in directly adjacent Himalayan hill tracts such as the Mon-yul Corridor. The common ethnolinguistic background for this must be the prehistoric and historical presence of multiple populations speaking Tibeto-Burman languages spread across the Brahmaputra Basin. South of the research region, these peoples and their languages are found between the eastern Himalayan hill tracts and the Garo Hills further south. The most recent research data on the human genetics of Himalayan and adjoining populations (HAAPs) has “suggested a recent dispersal of the HAAPspecific ancestry in North-east India and northern Nepal”,27 with a time horizon of approximately 1000 years BP. Thus, such movements of earlier speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages onto the plains of the Brahmaputra River basin may well reflect commonalities between elements of these calendric fertility festivals we can still observe today in adjacent highland and lowland zones of this region. The present-day population that is the most likely candidate for an ancient link between the southern Mon-yul Corridor and adjacent Assamese plains would be so-called Kachari peoples who are speakers of Bodo-Koch languages. Large populations of them are settled from Darrang district immediately south of the Mon-yul Corridor, right along the natural frontier of

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the Himalayan hill tracts of southern Bhutan in what used to be termed the Kachari Duars, and as far west as Koch Bihar. These peoples have a long history of forming enduring polities from the time of the Khen Dynasty in western Kamarupa. It is highly likely that the oldest known polity in the Mon-yul Corridor, namely the ca. twelfth century sub-regional Ga-thung or Gwa-thung polity centred around Shar Dom-kha (or Shar Dong-kha), and directly adjacent to where shalung rites exist today, was part of this population complex. The Ga-thung polity enjoyed strong and on-going relations with Tibetans to the north for three centuries or more, as well as with Koch rulers on the plains just to the south. Tibetan historians described the Ga-thung dynasty as the ‘kings of Mon (or Eastern Mon)’, and their Kachari neighbours just to the south were known as the Ka-tsa-ra. Padma Gling-pa visited the Ga-thung kingdom in 1507, and described it then as being a vital, coherent and sophisticated political and cultural entity.28 Just in front of the shalung structure at Phudung, a tall, forked stick was driven into the ground next to the seating place of the bon po (pl. 186). The hereditary bon po hung his bag of ritual equipment at the fork in the same manner as ritual horns are hung upon forked sticks next to altars in north-east Bhutan (pl. 67). The bon po took his own seat directly at the base of the shalung. Virtually all the major rites he conducted were performed while seated in this position. Next to the bon po’s seat, two flat rock slabs are set into the ground. One served as his slab altar, and the other served as a hearth place for the invariable fire that must be kindled to accompany any offering of animals to the lha. To the left and right of the shalung are rows of flat stones set into the ground at regular intervals. These were used as seat markers by representatives of each of the established kremi clans who form ceremonial units within the worship community during the festival. Thus, the shalung and its contents are the absolute centre point of the entire festival. The first rites took place at the shalung during the evening and night of the day before the public festival. These nocturnal rites should only involve the bon po, his two assistants (sangmin), as well as two helpers (rokmin) who fetch and carry ceremonial beer brewed at a special ‘pure’ site in

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the forest beyond the village. Nobody else may enter the sacred grove before the following morning. The bon po placed the heads of the muntjac and the fish inside the cavity of the shalung, while the heads of birds were not used since the required species could no longer be obtained. It was thought better to omit the birds rather than risk using an unprecedented and thus potentially inappropriate substitute. The bon po chanted an invitation for the phu deity to descend from above. At both Phudung and Sangti, as at Thempang, the local phu are mythically assimilated to lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the ritual texts chanted by the bon shaman. The deity is then considered to remain present inside or around the shalung until the close of the festival the next evening. The following day, when the entire public attend the festival, a long length of hand-spun woollen thread called tsherung (CT tshe srung) meaning ‘life protection’ was wound seven times around the shalung. Its end was conducted into the internal cavity housing the heads of the deer and fish. Additional lengths of this woollen thread, bottles of home-brewed beer, and fist-sized balls of cooked local rice mixed with seeds of cultivated Amaranthus spp. were also placed within the shalung. These balls are named zamalumo, literally ‘spherical meal’ (CT za ma zlum mo) and resemble giant eggs. Each contains a green tree leaf at its centre, which are said to signify the vitality and wellbeing of those who consume the balls as tshogs after they have been offered to the deities. These zamalumo, and other tshogs items not placed within the shalung – particularly cakes of fresh cheese mounted in nest-like bowls atop poles set up in the earth, plus a large cauldron of alcohol brewed in the forest – were equally distributed to all participants and then consumed at the communal lunchtime feast that day within the sacred grove. The head of the muntjac was sent down to the worship community at Sangti village in exchange for the fish heads they had sent up to Phudung. A ‘broth’ (tukpa) was prepared by cooking the deer’s head, and servings were distributed to each person in the Sangti worship community. Similarly, everyone in the Phudung worship community consumed a broth cooked with the fish heads. As tshogs, both types of broth are said to transmit the life-sustaining power of the deity. In addition to the heads,

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zamalumo from Phudung were given to Sangti worshippers who in exchange give buckwheat noodles (putang) from their own tshogs to Phudung. The quantities exchanged are all equally divided, and everyone is eligible to receive the same share. I could find no link between these reciprocal tshogs exchanges and current systems of affinal exchange, or similar social relations. Informant interpretations mainly stated the upstream dispatch of fish heads ensures fish will keep swimming upstream, where it is always better to catch them due to the fact of corpse disposal in the river downstream. The downstream dispatch of the wild goat’s head ensures game animals will continue to move downstream from their remote upland resorts, thus securing the local supply of these wild highland resources until the subsequent festival. Following the communal tshogs feast over the midday period, while the bon po was seated at the foot of the shalung, two costumed and armed warrior-like figures pranced around the sacred grove in front of the shalung. They are nowadays locally interpreted as “Miji” referring to a neighbouring population, armed groups of whom came to collect informal tribute from Dirang villages using threat of violence during the premodern era. The same figures appear at a range of other festivals in neighbouring Srid-pa’i lha worship communities throughout the area, with varying identities, meanings and roles at each site (see ch. 17). Regardless of their current local interpretation, these figures are typical of armed warrior performers who prance around and sometimes step bro during many Srid-pa’i lha festivals in the northern zone of the cult’s distribution, as described at Tawang in the previous chapter. Finally, lengths of the woollen tsherung thread were removed from the shalung’s cavity while a large group of participants, but especially women with babies and young children, pressed in close as the bon po tied these tsherung around the necks of each participant, and distributed additional threads to those with absent family members. The festival then came to a close. In summary, the shalung rite has several goals that coincide. It ensures game and fish for future harvest. It acknowledges and reinforces some older relationship between clans in one section of Sangti village and a group of villages upstream

from it. It is an offering of meat to the ancestral deity, and an opportunity to harvest new vitality from the same deity. These last aspects of the rite closely recall another rite with the formal Tibetan name mtshun mchod (cf. mtshun gtor and mtshun ’thor) that I have only seen performed once under this designation in the Khams region of the far eastern Tibetan Plateau, during the year 2000. A mtshun mchod, literally ‘ancestor offering’, involves providing meat and blood from a domestic sacrificial animal – I observed a sheep being used – to the pho lha of an agnatic group who is recognised as the ‘patrilineal ancestor’ (pha mtshun, pha mes) of that group, but conceived of as a lha rather than as a ‘dead human being’ (mi shi ba). According to Tibetan sources, the rite should be performed at a mortuary place.29 That was not the case in the instance I observed, although the stone cairn used was dedicated to the pho lha and thus might be interpreted as an ancestor shrine. Shalung rites related to ancestors and the acquisition of new vitality are very important from a comparative historical perspective. We find their precursors in texts from the eleventh century era, and this will be discussed in detail in chapter 15 and appendix J. To appreciate whether we are dealing with a widespread and coherent nawan phenomenon, it is germane to compare several additional details of rites from other Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged at distant sites.

Tangmachu, Kuri Chu Valley Tangmachu is a bilingual community settled along the west back of the Kuri Chu river. The settlement area is a linguistic boundary, and its inhabitants include the most northerly Chocha-ngacha speakers, and the most southerly speakers of Kurtöp. During the fourteenth day of the seventh lunar month, being the second day of Tangmachu’s annual Sridpa’i lha festival, tshogs is offered to a hereditary hami ritual specialist who either embodies or represents the lha.30 The hami sits within a temporary construction termed brang, which usually refers to a simple type of ‘hut’. This brang is built using long stems of Artemisia, which is locally called dungmin or neu, and that is one of the main ‘pure’ ceremonial plants used in Srid-pa’i lha worship throughout this region.

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The stems form a type of tent-like structure for the brang, and within it the hami sits upon a single, very large leaf from a plant named balam, which is said to be the ‘golden seat’ or ‘silver seat’ of the lha. A female performer termed lha’i lcam, which literally means ‘consort of the lha’, must hold this leaf and place it inside the hut for the hami as a seat. To the right side of the brang containing the hami, there sit a row of five men, while to the left side there sit five women. These ten participants are termed tsoblabpa, and represent the main taxpaying households who constitute the historical core of the worship community with hereditary obligations to send at least one person of the required gender to assist in the rites, and who contribute the tshogs items. Along with a bamboo platter of cooked rice, plus an egg or omelette from each sponsor household, all of which are presented to the hami while he is seated in the brang, the tsoblabpa must also contribute three types of animals as tshogs. One is freshly caught fish, also birds which have recently been trapped, and a live pig. Ideally, eight fish should be supplied, yet in practice any number of whatever size which happen to be caught are considered better than none, while bigger fish are regarded more highly. Four different birds must be hunted with traps. Ideally, they should include several wild gallinaceous species, being the rebkha that appears to be a type of quail (cf. CT sreg pa) by local description, the babs bya pheasant, a smaller bird called kham khu which is either a partridge or quail, and another type of small bird with bright feathers whose identity is no longer recalled. As is the case with fish, depending upon what can be trapped prior to the festival the use of any of these birds is regarded as better than none whatsoever. Some wooden stakes are freshly cut from forest trees. All the harvested fish are suspended from one of these wooden stakes, with the birds attached to the other, and both stakes are then erected directly at the hami’s hut, either side of its entrance. The hami has the right to take all the tshogs items just described. During the past, a live domestic pig was also donated jointly by the ten tsoblabpa. This was lead to the lha shing tree, tethered and sacrificed by one of the tsoblabpa, after which its meat was cooked and all members of the worship community received an equal share to eat. This pig sacrifice was no longer performed at the time of my field research.

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Da and Seb, Bumdeling Up until the mid-twentieth century, the premodern communities of Da and Seb at Bumdeling along the Kholong Chu valley celebrated a Srid-pa’i lha festival known as Kaulha.31 Many of the rites addressed directly to the lha were staged at the ritual site (dongthan) of Kyetimag, a sacred grove above the village of Da. This was the location of the lha shing tree. Before the lha was to be farewelled at the lha shing for his journey back up to the top of the sky, a rite for ensuring success in wild harvesting practices was performed. For this rite, the three gtsang mi or ritual assistants of the main hereditary ritual specialist called lhami had to catch fourteen fish. A shelf-like offering altar made from a series of horizontal wooden boards was set up underneath the tree. Seven of these fish were arranged on the altar boards with their heads pointing downstream along the valley, while the other seven fish were laid out pointing upstream. The principle undelaying the rite was the same as the shalung at Phudung, namely to ensure future availability of fish upstream and downstream. The lhami chanted throughout this fish offering, finally sending the lha back up to the sky. It was the case at Phudung, Tangmachu and Bumdeling that informants failed to explicitly identify any of the rites, the wild animals or their meat used as nawan. At the latter two sites, this may have been an artefact of the methodology; the information was based upon personal memories of elderly informants. Nevertheless, the parallels in, and overlaps of practice among all case are very close, and the ethnographic data also correlates neatly with the surviving textual records presented above. There is little doubt they describe variations of the same type of nawan rites existing over a much wider region.

13.3 Nawan and Mimicking The concept of nawan extends to rites which involve or that are purely forms of mimicking behaviour. Ritual performers including bon shamans mimic both the act of hunting and the behaviour of wild animals. This dimension of nawan seems to be far more directly related to ensuring hunting

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success, both directly in the act of hunting and indirectly by fostering the vitality of valued game species.

Ney, Kurtö The old Kurtöp speaking village of Ney on the west bank of the Kuri Chu river in Kurtö was already recorded as a settled community in fifteenth century historical records. The Ney community stage a large Srid-pa’i lha festival once every two years between the seventh and fourteenth days of the eighth lunar month.32 The festival is simply referred to as Cha, which is the title given to the community’s ancestral lha. They include Cha Kalepey often defined as a ‘servant’ (cha)33 of a set of sibling Cha/Pcha-titled beings worshipped throughout Kurtö (fig. 1), as well as the progenitor lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. On the fourth and fifth days of the festival, rites performed by a figure named phayangpa take place, and these include an elaborate mimic of a pig hunt termed nawan. The precise spelling of phayangpa is not known. Yet, given the mythic and ritual milieu in which it occurs, the formal spelling pha g.yang pa is highly likely. The word pha is a common and long-attested term for a type of ritual specialist that is somewhat equivalent to bon and gshen (ch. 14). The word g.yang pa, as we will see, designates their agency in achieving one of the main ritual goals of Srid-pa’i lha rites, namely bringing down life powers termed tshe and g.yang from the sky into the bodies of worshippers. Next to the chami or hereditary bon shaman, the phayangpa is the central figure in the Ney festival. The role is not hereditary, and a male candidate from one of the main sponsor households is selected in advance of each festival. He must avoid any contact with birth and death for the month prior to and during the festival. His costume is a clean, white robe – the colour associated with both g.yang vitality and the Srid-pa’i lha themselves – and he must remain mute during the entirety of his primary performance. On the fourth day of the festival, a tall pole some four metres in height is made from a freshly cut conifer with all side branches and bark removed, and which is erected at the lower end of Ney’s main sacred grove called Serkhadrupzhi. It sits diagonally opposite the lha shing and the temporary

tent-like ‘palace’ (phodrang) of Artemisia branches used by both the deities and the chami. This pole, called sokshing (CT srog shing) or ‘life force tree’, has an exaggerated phallus carved from wood tied onto its apex, and high off the ground where it is effectively unreachable – and therefore safe from interference. The ‘life force’ (CT srog) of the phayangpa temporarily resides on the tip of this phallus while he performs his main ritual activities during the fifth day. This measure has a double purpose. On the one hand, it means the phayangpa’s vital force is not within his body should the deity temporarily become embodied in him during the invitation rites, and on the other hand, it ensures his vital force is safe from disturbances during the same rites. These same ritual measures, but using a small cone of butter placed upon the tip of a ritual arrow standing in a basket of uncooked grain, are employed for the same reasons by pawo and jomo spirit mediums in north-eastern Bhutan prior to their possession. Early morning on the fifth day of proceedings, the chami stands in the courtyard before the Ney Chugpo mansion at the centre of the village where he chants ritual antecedent narratives explaining the origin of the world (Chags rabs and Rdo rabs). The Ney Chugpo mansion is the dwelling of the only premodern, land-owning lineage at Ney, who act as hereditary sponsors for all obligatory offerings during each Cha festival.34 In far north-east Bhutan, the attic is a key site of certain domestic rites and regarded as a ‘pure’ storage place for any material items used in Srid-pa’i lha worship. The Ney Chugpo’s attic houses a bow that is only taken out and used for the nawan rite. The phayangpa must ascend to the attic and retrieve this bow and carry it with him. Ney is located along a hill ridge, and another ridge still higher above it is named Rigsumtse (CT ri gsum rtse) or Peaks of the Three Hills, which is a ubiquitous mythical toponym applied to highland sites for receiving the descending deities above many settlements at which Srid-pa’i lha worship occurs. The phayangpa then climbs to the top of the Rigsumtse before anyone else may go there, and arrives at Tsang-ngu, the last in an ascending series of ritual sites (dog sa). Here he stands and chants requests for the deities to give all the ‘aspirations’ (smon lam) people expect from them, while holding bunches of flowers and leaves from a variety

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of plants in his hands which later represent and embody the aspirations fulfilled by the deities. At a certain point, while the chami chants the invitation rabs to the deity, and while the phayangpa faces down towards the village holding the aspiration flowers and leaves, the deity will descend to him from the sky. The phayangpa then goes down to Serkhadrupzhi, leading or even carrying the deity, who is then thought to reside in the phodrang tent erected under the lha shing. Here, the flowers and leaves transferring the ‘aspirations’ of tshe and g.yang life power given by the Srid-pa’i lha are distributed to every person in the worship community. On the opposite side of the sacred grove, the phayangpa and other men mimic the hunting of a wild pig in a rite named Nawan tumala.35 In the Ney dialect of Kurtöp, tumala refers to the ‘driving’ or ‘chasing’ of the game animal in a battuestyle of hunting.36 For this purpose, a peculiar plant named jaduma (Vaccinium serratum)37 has been gathered in the forest to represent the wild pig. Jaduma is a type of epiphyte that climbs upon oak and other forest trees, but its most important characteristic is that sections of its brown stems can become greatly swollen and bulbous, sometimes attaining the size of a football or even basketball (pl. 189). With their normal-sized side branches protruding from these bulbous sections of the main stem, larger examples of the swollen jaduma tissue can come to resemble animal-like shapes with legs and even a head. One such jaduma stem is used as the ‘wild pig’ that is called nawan. This jaduma nawan pig is taken to the top of the slope above the ‘life force tree’ of the phayangpa, then someone will call out ‘Come for the nawan chase!’ (Nawan tum do she!), and at which all able-bodied men join in. The pig is chased, kicked and rolled down the slope by the group of men who participate, until it comes near the ‘life force tree’. Here it must be ‘killed’ by the phayangpa, who takes up his ritual bow and shoots arrows into the soft, woody jaduma tissue. Once the ‘animal’ is ‘dead’, it is first offered to the Srid-pa’i lha, after which the successful phayangpa hunter dismembers the jaduma ‘carcass’ with a sword. The spongy, white plant tissue is divided into many small, equal-sized portions, and a piece of this ‘meat’, which is also referred to a nawan, is then distributed to everyone in the worship community to keep and even consume if they choose.

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é Plate 189. Swollen stem sections of Vaccinium serratum used to represent the nawan wild pig during Srid-pa’i lha rites, growing in the lower Khoma Chu valley, 2014.

There are different local interpretations of the significance of the nawan ‘meat’. Some hold that it is the ‘aspirations’ given by the Srid-pa’i lha, and thus a source of tshe and g.yang life powers, although this function is already fulfilled by the empowered flowers and leaves received by all the worshippers. Others at Ney believe that nawan will eliminate the threat of wild pigs raiding the crops, which is a genuine concern of all hill farmers in the region, and more so since they are no longer ‘officially’ able to control such pest animals using hunting due to modern laws for nature conservation. This explanation, that crops will benefit, is, like the first, also subsumed within the overall benefits thought by all worship communities throughout the region to come about after rites addressed to Srid-pa’i lha. Yet, it is also accurate in relation to the final explanation given by some men at Ney, who say that the nawan will enable successful hunting. I consider this is the only actual or original

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purpose of mimicking the wild pig hunt, and that there are other reasons for agreeing with these informants. The word nawan is also generally used to mean ‘wild pig’ at Ney, and the real animal is present in the heavily forested hills around the village and its fields, where it is indeed prized in the hunter’s bag, and its meat is dried in thin strips called pa that are consumed with great relish. In fact, wild pork has a special place in the Ney festival. Domestic pork is considered unclean and offensive to the Srid-pa’i lha, and for this reason, all hereditary ritual specialists at Ney have life-long restrictions on its consumption. It should also not be eaten by anyone during the festival, nor even be kept anywhere within sight of people if dried domestic pork happens to be stored in village houses. The consumption of wild pork, on the other hand, is freely permitted within the festival. During Cha festivals formerly staged at Ney, men hunted wild pig, not only so that their meat could be consumed during that ritual week, but also because wild pork was added to the offerings made to the Srid-pa’i lha,38 for whom it is pure and acceptable. Overall, there are multiple indications in these nawan rites pointing to the idea that the wild pig and its pork, and other game animals featuring in nawan elsewhere, are a basis for acquiring ‘wild’ g.yang, hence their ritual centrality. This idea is also known from other contexts. Hunters I undertook research with across far northern Tibet often described wild animals in terms of, and as a source of, g.yang. This idea is made explicit in ritual texts chanted for luck by hunters in the same region. These chants invoke acquisition of both the fecund g.yang of fertile females and their offspring – which parallels the same type of g.yang associated with domestic animals (and human women) in the cult – and the embodied g.yang of game meat.39 In other mundane ‘bon’identified rites dedicated to manipulation of g.yang, the deer frequently features as the wild ‘basis for g.yang’ or g.yang gzhi, and this term itself designates the entire skins of wild animals, while other popular customs related to deer and g.yang are known. 40 I agree with Charles Ramble that it is probably a very ancient cultural pattern.41 Yet, in the context of the cult, the ultimate source of g.yang associated with wild game is not the animals themselves, but rather comes from their special relationship to Srid-pa’i lha and other types of

deities associated with them. I will return to this topic in an analysis of the ancient sha slungs rite in chapter 15. What appears to be an interesting continuation of this same set of associations found in nawan rites also occurs within annual rites of village Buddhism I recorded in communities of Sridpa’i lha worshippers adjacent to Kurtö. These rites are the lo mchod or ‘annual offerings’ found across north-eastern Bhutan. Buddhist ritual specialists, including lamas, monks and lay specialists called gomchen, are invited to sponsor homes in a village to ensure the well-being of village households and then receive a public feast. One key focus of such rites is the maintenance of g.yang within the domestic sphere, for which elaborate liturgical rituals related to Buddhist yi dam must be employed. In the final feast, wild pork – surreptitiously obtained of course – is sometimes served as the main feast item shared among all participants.

Tabi and Zhamling, Kurtö There are many examples of animal and bird mimicking in Srid-pa’i lha worship. In some cases – those mainly involving bird calls and the hopping (chong) behaviour of certain bird species – mimicking is performed for interacting with the lha in a ritually prescribed manner, or for imitating how the lha are believed to behave (see chs. 7, 8). Other cases, such as the stag bro at Changmadung and sites in Kheng Chikor, relate to the glud rite (see ch. 10). Another case is when game animals themselves are mimicked as hunter’s prey. Examples of this latter type still occur at scattered sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship across the research region and are most directly related to ensuring success during future hunts. These mimic performances are usually minor rites within festivals. Prime examples of these rites were recorded at sites that are rather far apart geographically: from Kurtöp speaking Tabi and Zhamling in Kurtö; and at Sartang Kho-Bwa speaking Rahung in southern Dirang. Both rites concern bear hunting, although neither was explicitly identified with the term nawan. The seven-day Pcha festival staged at Tabi each winter was an example of a migrating tradition, in which – as we saw at Changmadung – members of a community migrated

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and relocated their Srid-pa’i lha festival in a new settlement area. 42 Tabi’s Pcha was a relocation of a much older event formerly staged at Zhamling, a village a mere ten kilometres downstream along the east bank of the Kuri Chu river valley. Zhamling and later Tabi worshipped both Gurzhe and a ‘younger sister’ of the deity Grang-bya-mo who represents the ‘senior’ Pcha of Kurtö, and whose main worship takes place at nearby Shawa village. The Zhamling and later Tabi festivals were celebrated simultaneously and in close relationship with Shawa’s festival. However, each Pcha festival throughout Kurtö has its own variations. While Shawa has a version of the Nawan tumala pig hunting rite described above at Ney, another rite called Wam thum or ‘bear drive/ chase’ from old Zhamling and later Tabi is not found at Shawa. This Wam thum rite was identified with a ritual site (dog sa) named Wam-grong or ‘Bear Village’, which today is an area of land still called by this name along the eastern boundary of the fields above Zhamling village. When Wam thum was transferred to Tabi, its performance was continued in an area roughly the same distance and direction from the present Tabi settlement as Wam-grong is in relation to Zhamling, since the whole ritual topography of Pcha was faithfully transposed from the old site to the new one. On the fourth day of Tabi’s festival, during the early evening, a man who acted as the assistant of the hereditary umpa or ‘horn blower’ had to dress himself as a bear for the Wam thum or ‘bear drive/chase’ rite. He put on a black male robe, across the back of which were attached many branches of Artemisia. The man then had to walk on all fours mimicking the gait of a Himalayan black bear (Ursus thibetanus), and the Artemisia hung off him like the long-haired pelt of such an animal. Another group of male worshippers formed a hunting party that was led by the hereditary bon shaman called pchami. All the hunters ‘drove’ (thum) the man-bear across the area towards the pchami who was waiting in hiding in the distance. As the bear approached, the pchami loosed off an arrow in its direction, yet the shot itself was intentionally a flaccid one without any high velocity power. He then advanced on the still moving man-bear and placed an arrow on its body to represent a direct hit. The man-bear had to amble on further as if wounded, and eventually laid down upon the earth to ‘die’ in a static position.43 The entire

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hunting party then gathered around the dead man-bear, and over its ‘corpse’, they chanted a long series of beautiful poetic verses expressing reverence for the natural world. 44 One of the hunters then had to act out the harvesting of the man-bear’s gall bladder – the most economically important part of the animal – and then mimic the process of trading it for profit. The ritual horn (um) was brought to the site with water stored within its bow, and the head of the man-bear actor was then washed thoroughly using this water. Coming from the horn’s bow, in which the Pcha deities are said to reside during worship, this water was considered empowered with vitality. A wild animal was thus being revitalised with the life powers of the ancestral Pcha deity. Only at this point was the man-bear said to slowly ‘come back to life’ from his role as the mimic bear. It was believed that due to his performing the role, this man would be safe from any risks or accidents in the future. It is important to realise that the Wam thum rite of Zhamling and its continuation at Tabi reflects and is rooted in a local economic history, albeit one which was highly veiled at the time of my field research. It is common knowledge that killing bears took place during the past in north-east Bhutan, where we know from eye-witness testimony that premodern economic conditions were often very harsh and that supplementary harvesting strategies like hunting were sometimes a necessity. At Tabi and Zhamling, nobody nowadays would openly admit that bear hunts – along with any other type of hunting, of which there is ample evidence – were ever practiced there, such is the force of the normative Buddhist discourse against taking life, as well as genuine apprehension of strict, modern conservation laws aimed against hunting of any kind. The Wam thum rite was more than just mimicking a bear hunt to ensure positive hunting luck in the future. It also explicitly incorporated the revitalisation of the dead game animals by way of the powers of the Srid-pa’i lha. This aspect of the rite thus parallels well-known examples of ensuring future vitality of game – often specifically bear – recorded in Himalayan and premodern Siberian societies that have maintained shamanic tradition-complexes.45 Wam thum is not the only example of its kind related to bear hunting found within the Srid-pa’i lha cult region.

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Rahung, Southern Dirang At old Rahung village in Dirang district, West Kameng, a clan ancestral festival called Chiksaybu staged annually each mid-winter (usually around January-February) is celebrated over two days. 46 At the end of the main day, in the pitch black of night, a single stark naked and mute male performer with an exaggerated wooden phallus hanging down between his legs must mimic a bear in a rite to ensure success in bear hunting. During the period of my field research, bear hunting at Rahung was a feature of local economic practice as I was able to witness there for myself. When bear are killed, besides harvesting and sale of the gall, any oil from the carcass is rendered and bottled as materia medica for local use, and the meat is fried and distributed to everyone to eat. The performer who mimics the bear has no special designation, although when asked what this rite was my informants generically called it Sargangri (or Sirgangri), with one articulate person describing it as the Sargangri Karpo Söshe. This refers to the ‘worship’ (söshe) of Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po (‘Eastern White Snow Mountain’), an old mythological site in the regional Srid-pa’i lha cult. 47 This common Tibetan language toponym identifies one of the high, snow-covered Himalayan peaks of the Gorichen or Kangtö massif clearly visible to the north-east from elevated vantage points in this part of the Mon-yul Corridor. It can be recalled here that, since at least the early nineteenth century, the Rahungpa maintained a long period of client relations with patrons in the neighbouring Tshangla speaking settlement of Thempang, a community that participates strongly in the Srid-pa’i lha cult (ch. 11). Thempangpa hunters also worship this same Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po peak.48 At the time of my field research, this only occurred on an individual basis since rites to worship this deity became erased within Thempang’s own cult festival, most likely due to Buddhist interventions or sensibilities. The bear mimic rite I will now describe was thus not directly oriented towards the Rahungpa’s primary clan deities, Manjang and Mani, to whom the main rites of Chiksaybu are dedicated, although it does include reference to them. The rite was directed to a deity perceived as the ‘owner of the game’.

The Sargangri Karpo Söshe takes place in an area just off to one side of the sacred oak grove high above old Rahung village, and at which the main Chiksaybu festival is staged. The naked and mute performer moves around the base of a living sapling tree some three or four metres high, from which all side branches have been trimmed off from its lower half, leaving an upper ‘topknot’ of leafy branches above. The naked performer mimics a bear by shuffling back and forth around the base of the tree in an agitated manner. At intervals, he lies with his shoulders upon the ground right at the tree’s base and stretches both legs, now crossed at the ankles, high up the tree’s main stem (pl. 190). At this point, he thrusts his hips with the phallus protruding outwards in the motion of sexual intercourse. This action mimics the bear – and by extension other large game – being caught in a shashong trap which hunters set in the forest. The shashong consists of a strong and flexible sapling or small tree bowed over under great tension and affixed to the ground, where a trigger mechanism and foot loop are attached. Once the game animal steps through the foot loop, it triggers release of the tree under tension, which springs upright holding the snared animal upside down, a position in which they usually writhe and buck wildly while seeking to escape. This whole mimetic sequence is repeated several times over a period of five minutes, while a large crowd of mostly male festival participants look on, illuminating the figure with their flashlights, cheering and hooting loudly. During this mimicking, the mashee, who is a young boy possessed by either one of the local ancestral deities, Manjang and Mani, and who wears a wooden phallus around his waist, runs throughout the area brandishing and hitting with a stick and jumping through the fire (pl. 191). At the end of the Sargangri Karpo Söshe performance, men from the community who are hunters go up to the tree and carefully inspect its lower branches with their flashlights. They search for tiny spiders that embody the ‘souls’ of game animals under the care of the Sargangri being who is associated with the snow mountain. These soul spiders are attracted to the tree during the rite. It is believed that when collected by hunters they will then have control over life and death of the very game animals whose souls the spiders are associated with. Very similar rites for hunting success

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é Plate 190. Phallus wearing ritual performer mimicking a trapped bear at the base of the ‘soul spider’ tree during a Chiksaybu festival, Rahung, West Kameng, 2011. è Plate 191. Phallus wearing mashee performer while possessed during a Chiksaybu festival, Rahung, West Kameng, 2011.

are found among highland speakers of Tani languages not far east of the Mon-yul Corridor.49 All such practices reflect regional Himalayan notions about the nature and manifestation of the soul or mobile vitality principle as a spider or insect and its ritual manipulation (see ch. 2, ch. 4). The spider motif is found in most areas Himalayan shamanic tradition complexes occur between the Gurung/Tamu region of western central Nepal far to the west, and the Qiang region of western Sichuan and Nuosu region of north-west Yunnan in China far to the east.50

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13.4 Eastern Himalayan Ethnographic Parallels Central aspects of nawan and all other rites described above for ensuring wild animal vitality, abundance and accessibility as game – and therefore the overall vitality of their human harvesters – are, while rather rare, by no means unique to the Srid-pa’i lha cult along the extended eastern Himalayas. Here, for comparison, are three brief ethnographic examples from other locations and highland populations along these mountain ranges.

Western Tamang ‘Death-Feast of the Head’ Some strong ethnographic parallels for nawan rites involving animal heads and mimicking are found among the western Tamang in Nepal. András Höfer identified a much older set of what he called Himalayan “tribal elements”

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embedded as rites within the particular western Tamang manner of celebrating the annual Dasai “festival of general renewal”.51 During performance of the festival’s central unit of rites or ‘death-feast of the head’ (kra gral), which Höfer judged the most “Tamang” aspect of the festival, the heads of the sacrificial animals (buffalo) are reserved as the most important body part. They are stored with lighted lamps placed atop them within ground floor rooms of the houses of the main sacrificers. The head meat is then prepared and shared among all participants in a communal feast. Preceding this feast, depending upon the specific village tradition being observed, a mock hunt and a ceremony called che: syuba or ‘requesting life-force’ take place. Höfer described this mock hunt as follows:

a special offering named tvsù. This consists of a stick cut from a tree and decorated with replica ‘f lowers’ (sheūngwàt), and from which the nàm-sà hangs a row of bodies of freshly killed small birds and rodents. This closely resembles the nawan offerings of rows of birds and fish set up on similar sticks and made at sites like Tangmachu described above. Moreover, the Drung tvsù is set up for a ritual context identical to the one encompassing nawan rites within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. It is used in the meŭsòq-wà rite when the nàm-sà chants the path for a verbal ritual journey up to the sky world and back to obtain vitality from ancestral progenitors.54

Naga Feast of Merit Poles [T]he “death-feast of the head” is preceded by a mock hunt. After a ceremonial archery, a large gourd is allowed to roll down a slope, and a man follows it with a bow. When he hits the gourd, which stands for a deer, a dog must be made to bite the “prey”.52 The Tamang term che: syuba used here is homophonic and semantically identical to tshe zhu ba or ‘requesting tshe’ used during Srid-pa’i lha rites. During che: syuba performance, a verbal ritual journey is chanted northwards into the high Himalaya and up to the Tibetan Plateau margins. This is considered a mythical region that Höfer described as having “sites connected with the origin of Tamang society and tradition in general; and rituals reveal it as the very source of purity and health.”53 The bombo shaman must collect che: ‘life-force’ there, transfer it to butter, which is then applied to the foreheads of all the participants. A final rite involves a circular dance called máne during which leaps and jumps are performed producing a heavy pounding upon the earth. This whole Tamang ritual ensemble resonates deeply with nawan rites and central aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha festivals within which nawan are deployed.

Drung Tvsù Offerings The nàm-sà shaman in Drung communities along the frontier between north-west Yunnan and northern Burma uses

Parallel with both the Drung tvsù and the nawan offerings of rows of small birds and fish on erected sticks, certain premodern Naga groups displayed rows of bodies of small birds and rodents on poles and sticks in relation to the same cosmology and cultural concerns informing these former examples. This occurred during ‘feast of merit’ rites performed for increasing village fertility, prosperity and for preventing future illness, as well as to increase the status of individual feast-givers. Premodern Naga explanations of the general cosmology underpinning such rites state they ultimately harness power or potency that originates in a sky world.55 During certain feasts of merit, hunted birds and rodents were tied in rows onto sticks as part of special hanging ritual devices set atop very long poles in front of Naga houses. Based upon early twentieth century ethnographic records of a Sekrengi genna feast of merit cycle amongst the Angami Naga, Alban von Stockhausen described one of these devices hung from a pole as follows: It also includes bamboo rattles as well as a number of small birds hung in a row beneath a [horizontal] bamboo stick piercing the top part of the construction. Using a chain of bamboo loops, the delicate construction is fixed to a long bamboo pole. The small birds had been chased with pellet-bows by young men on the fourth day of the great Sekrengi genna on which the pole is erected. [...] The more of these birds that

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are killed, the greater the success in war and prosperity will be in the coming year.56 Overall, the nawan rites and their cognates elsewhere among specific but very widespread Himalayan highland populations speaking Tibeto-Burman languages suggest such rites related to wild animals and hunting may be of great antiquity. They share much in common with the Srid-pa’i lha cult, including being dedicated to present and future vitality obtained from ancestral sky deities and their realms, being associated with shamans and ritual journeys to ancestral realms, and deployment within ritual contexts of cyclic revitalisation. In all such respects, we would expect to find them incorporated within regional ritual systems like the cult.

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The Srid-pa’i lha cult I observed and recorded can be characterised as fundamentally life-affirming. Concern for life based upon mobile vitality that is embodied in and shared between both humans and their ancestral deities encompasses the cult’s central goals and techniques. Conspicuous validation of procreation, aspirations of increase in human and animal fecundity, and the revitalising of existing lives are its general hallmarks. The cult conservatively maintains a variety of unique and otherwise obscure myths and rite techniques dedicated to these ends. Moreover, some of the better-known techniques are practiced in ways not normally observed, in order to apply them to the cult’s goals more specifically. An example of this is the glud (or bslu[s]) rite. While often conventionally described as being a ‘ransom’, glud is an exchange transaction based upon a value index, and normally performed to achieve averting and ‘healing’ outcomes for individual patients/clients 1 . Within the context of the cult, these rites are actually performed for whole worship communities during festivals. They are treated as restorative of depleted or lost vitality during a past year, as well as being pre-emptive for the period up until a following festival. Thus, in the context of the cult such rites are better glossed as being ‘life restoring exchanges’. If understood as ‘healing’, then they are related to a single nosology only: addressing the compromised status of embodied mobile vitality that is considered the ultimate basis for life itself. Beyond goals and techniques, the Srid-pa’i lha cult is an example of participating communities maintaining links with ancestors whom they consider potent and beneficent, yet also potentially ambivalent or dangerous when not correctly addressed. Along the eastern Himalayas, such

ancestral cults are most commonly the preserve of dedicated specialists like the bon shaman. My data indicate that the significance of cultivating links with Srid-pa’i lha ancestors is in recession among the worship communities I studied. This can be partly viewed as a longer-term historical process, yet nowadays it is one directly related to modern social and economic transformations occurring apace throughout the region.

The Post-Buddhist Cult and Receding Ancestors The data presented in parts II-IV encompasses the whole set of cosmological concepts, orientations and reference points that both inform and express the Srid-pa’i lha cult, as well as the beings it addresses, the mythical precedents invoked for its initiator figures and the ritualised relations involving its worship communities presided over by bon shamans during festivals. These are summarised on figure 22. The overall dynamics of cult rites thus amount to some very significant parts of a larger possible cycle of human existence, albeit one that nowadays appears incomplete. Rites and concepts concerning the post-mortem phase of existence are conspicuously absent from the overall picture. At least across the sub-region where Dakpa and Dzala ethnolinguistic presence and traces of inf luence are strongest, death rites involving water disposal of the corpse downstream/south along river courses are a well-documented and widespread practice. While these types of rites are not directly involved in the cult, they are fully what we would expect to find within its overall cosmological framework and the cycle of human existence indicated by that, and

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SKY lHa / Pla / Phya ancestors wife-takers

revitalisation: sifu conceptions ( pla ) tshe virility g.yang fertility phya vitality

ritualised affinity: zi girls pla’i lcam girls

NORTH upstream / life

bon shaman ritual journeys

post-mortem journeys to ancestors?

wife-givers human descent groups EARTH corpse disposal rites downstream / death SOUTH

é Figure 22. Concepts, orientations, reference points and actors in the Srid-pa’i lha ritual cosmos.

there are indeed traces this was once the case. I therefore included them on figure 22. The demonstrable dynamics of the cult depend strongly upon acceptance of a mobile and divisible or multiple vitality principle – a ‘soul’ – that is ultimately descended from ancestral sky lha as the basis for human existence. Comparative ethnography describing many other Himalayan highland populations who also explain human existence in these same general terms, reports that the mobile vitality principle endures after bodily death and can be ritually directed by a shaman or analogous ritual specialist to a realm of ancestors as the ideal post-mortem outcome.

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Those Himalayan peoples whose shamanic traditioncomplexes most closely resemble the Srid-pa’i lha cult, all locate the realm of their ancestors to the north, upstream and generally up the vertical cosmic axis. While this type of return to lha ancestors is exactly what we would expect to find within the Srid-pa’i lha cosmos – and that possibility is inscribed on figure 22 – nowadays such ideas about postmortem existence are absent throughout the cult’s worship communities across the entire research region. Instead, we only find universal Buddhist teachings of rebirth after (re)death within a cycle determined by morally coded actions (karma) and the intensions behind them. This Buddhist doctrine is philosophically antithetical to the idea of a mobile vitality principle that endures posthumously. It also denies preservation of identity across existential thresholds in the manner that shamanic tradition-complexes both allow discrete ‘souls’ to re-join their related ancestors

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and to preserve enduring ancestral identities. The formal denial of continuity of identity in Buddhist eschatology is popularly contradicted in one way or another by virtually all peoples of the highland Tibeto-Burman ethnolinguistic spectrum who historically adopted and adapted Buddhism as their own religion. The above deliberations provide good grounds for hypothesising that post-mortem ritual journeys involving the enduring mobile vitality principles of deceased persons returning to some lha ancestral realm were once part of, and thus complemented, a larger cycle of human existence implied by the overall dynamics of Srid-pa’i lha cult rites (fig. 22). Moreover, the corollary is that historical conversion to missionary Buddhism across the region led to displacement of some older approach towards post-mortem existence in favour of Buddhist concepts and practices. If so, then the cult we observe practiced entirely by Buddhist converts today is a post-Buddhist continuation of all those life generating and revitalising aspects of an older cosmology for which Buddhist missionaries could never offer their local converts any compelling alternatives. In chapter 15, I attempt to demonstrate this hypothesis more fully in a study of the non-Buddhist cosmological perspectives found in very old ritual texts describing mundane rites that come from the same southernmost Tibetan Plateau origin area from which I argue many aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult also derive. We have already seen in previous chapters that texts such as those among the dGa’-thang manuscripts contain the oldest currently known traces of certain key ideas, ritual patterns and mythical identities still preserved today within the cult. Along with an apparent displacement of the realm of ancestors in relation to religious eschatology, the role and status accorded ancestral beings themselves appears either generally reduced, or at least is highly variable across the cult’s region of distribution. During some Srid-pa’i lha festivals I documented, the ceremonial groups and bon shamans who sponsored and performed rites continued to carefully stress the descent links back to their named ancestors and articulated these with their own identities and status during the here and now. Yet, at other sites it was only the major

Srid-pa’i lha, such as ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gurzhe, who were celebrated, and then often only as a primordial origin point of all humankind, and one remaining as a rather abstract power behind the rites. In my research data, a higher significance of ancestors for cult worship communities could generally be mapped onto the surviving presence of clan and lineage organisation at the local level, while the opposite was also true. Still elsewhere, original clan ancestral deities have also become partially or entirely hypostatised as territorialised numina associated with local highlands (phu). This is a well-known Himalayan highland cultural transition among resettled migrant communities with clan organisation. The ancestors’ vertical links with the top of the sky have accordingly become moved down much closer to earth, and in closer proximity to permanent settlement areas of cult participants. Another point regularly emerging in my research was that attributions of ambivalence and possible danger to the Srid-pa’i lha acted to promote conservatism in cult practice. Many of the codes informing this are focussed intensively upon the person and behaviour of the bon shaman, as well as the material culture associated with his role. Once hereditary shaman lineages are discontinued for whatever reason, many of the codes collectively informing conservatism of practice appear to diminish in force, and this is another contributing trigger for transformation to occur. Overall, across both space and time within the region of study, the perceived relevancy and immediacy of ancestors for participants in the cult has witnessed a long-term process of recession and transformation. This has often developed to the point at which all ancestral beings have been reduced to a single name and function, an often abstract or generic figure, or have virtually disappeared altogether.

Current Status of the Cult The festival and worship community documentations of part IV provided synchronic snapshots of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in practice across its zone of distribution, with some reliable reconstructions also being possible back into the

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mid-twentieth century at certain sites. Together, they inform us that cult practice is neither uniform nor has it been a static phenomenon. Yet, strong continuities were recorded across all sites of the cult where an intact hereditary transmission of rites and the roles of ritual actors still existed. Among these continuities, many variations also exist, not only between individual sites, but far more significantly also between sub-regional groupings of worship communities. These groupings can be mapped onto the zones within which a set of different East Bodish languages are spoken, primarily Dakpa, Dzala, Kurtöp, Bumthap and Khengkha. Reasons for this second type of sub-regional variation appear connected with much older historical circumstances and processes, such as founder-clan identities, migrations, resettlements, assimilations and intermarriages. For the most part, these historical developments are no longer transparent to us - albeit sometimes strongly suggested - in the ethnographic data. Yet, locally produced cult manuscripts of mostly unknown age do offer a great deal of social history information for certain communities, and this becomes more compelling when their contents can be correlated with data in other sources whose dates and provenance are known to us. Examples of this material and analysis will be considered in detail in part V. Other observed variations in the cult result from well-known social and cultural phenomena. For example, the frequent occurrence – at least until recent decades – of village endogamy, or marriages among several adjacent settlements being restricted to a specific set of clans claiming common origins and status, has led to Srid-pa’i lha worship being staged as a communal festival. In other communities, but particularly those that have absorbed multiple waves of migrants, this never occurred, and the practice remains restricted to only one descent-based segment of a village. In certain sub-regions, but not others, we can also find examples of assimilation of Srid-pa’i lha and their worship to cults of territorial deities as part of a process that occurs when clan deities are moved and resettled during migrations. Reasons for variation in the detail of cult practices are clearer in the ethnographic data. In many cases, individual variations are those inherently generated by the type of cultural phenomena that shamanic-tradition complexes

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represent. Autonomous ritual specialists and their lineages allow for individual agency and are free from any organised orthodoxy. They not only preserve and transmit a common body of older, inherited narratives, rite techniques and material culture, but also recompose or modify these within the bounds set by core patterns or logics, be those cosmological references, narrative formats, story types and motifs, categories of functional objects, and so on. But beyond these more internal types of variation around a conservative core, cult practice has been strongly shaped by large-scale, complex and often increasingly rapid social and economic transformations taking place across the region during the modern era. In only a few cases, these transformations have generated renewed interest in individual cult festivals. For example, at Thempang, described in chapter 11, where the worship community was roughly divided between persons who still lived within the original settlement area, and those who had migrated out due to recent economic and educational incentives, there appeared to be a mutual reinforcement of the perceived importance of the Lhasöshe festival. However, such cases were exceptions across my sample. Elsewhere, my results revealed modern social and economic transformations had already led to the cult’s complete cessation across whole sub-regions, such as was described for Lhau and the Tawang region more generally in chapter 12, or on-going decline as was described at Changmadung in chapter 10. Since the mid-1980s, I have recorded local perceptions of ‘decline’ at every individual fieldwork arena I have worked in across the Tibetan Plateau and in the Himalayas. One learns to be wary of such perceptions and their expression. It is one of the reasons I surveyed as many sites of the cult as possible, compared my observational data with what is found in local documents and what could be gained from oral history interviews, and then rechecked what had transpired at the same sites over the six years of my active field research. My finding was that, as of 2013, at least thirty percent of all known Srid-pa’i lha festivals had ceased to be performed within the period of living memory. Most of these became defunct within the past two decades only. My observations at another thirty percent of the remaining sites up until the time of my final fieldwork during

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December 2014 revealed that community investment and participation in the cult was rapidly declining across the whole region. During the actual period of writing this book, the cessation of a further four festivals were reported to me by reliable local informants. There is no doubt that the cult was in steep decline over the period I assessed, and that local perceptions matched a quantifiable basis. It was evident during the field research that even single, local changes, such as the death or out-migration of a hereditary bon shaman, or the departure for boarding school of a group of young males in the age cohort to ideally occupy lha’i bu roles, could precipitate cessation of a local festival. Those festivals that had been continued in the absence of the key, hereditary ritual specialists subsequently evolved into modified forms necessarily disengaged from the cult’s actual cosmological framework. They no longer included the full array of major rites that require a bon shaman, and thus came to address a different set of aspirations and goals the participants then perceive they were able to fulfil. Modified festivals have often continued under their old names, even preserving selected aspects of their former ritual features, yet they represent a fundamentally different type of cultural phenomenon.2 There are no straightforward or blanket explanations for these overall trends of decline in, and cessation of the cult across the region, and this is what I will briefly address here. Attempts to understand these records of recent and increasing decline in the cult’s status must acknowledge two factors. The first is the degree of uniqueness in localised circumstances at individual sites, or within single sub-regions, which have and can result in decline and eventual cessation of the cult. Thus, at the level of single worship communities, or sets of neighbouring communities within a common area, generalisations about transformations are often difficult, if not impossible, to make. I will briefly consider several examples below. Secondly, on the regional and transregional scale, some generalisations are possible. Certain measurable developments occurring throughout most – if not all – highland communities within the entire Himalayan region between Burma and west Nepal are strongly eroding the status of community-based rites, such as

communal calendric festivals, although they are having a range of similar effects upon almost all dimensions of rural life in highland areas.

Localised Circumstances Brief portraits of festival decline and cessation from two different regions of Bhutan are presented here to highlight the crucial role that site- and area-specific circumstances have played in decline and eventual cessation of cult festivals. They can usefully be compared with the very different circumstances surrounding the demise of Pla festivals in Tawang during the 1990s that I described in chapter 12.

g.Yag-mchod and g.Yag-lha in Ura Within the Ura sub-district of Bumthang, all forms of Srid-pa’i lha worship have gradually ceased within the past decade or two. Premodern Ura communities maintained relatively high numbers of livestock alongside limited, seasonal buckwheat cultivation, and they traded animal products with neighbouring regions to obtain salt, rice, maize, cane, dried vegetables and other products that could not be locally produced in their cooler, higher altitude settlement area. Thus, husbandry of livestock, particularly large bovines like yak and their hybrids, and also mithun-cow hybrids – less so sheep – formed the backbone of Ura’s premodern subsistence economy. Ura’s form of the Srid-pa’i lha cult became focussed predominantly upon the fertility, productivity and health of bovine livestock, but primarily the yak. This was also the case in the adjacent Tang valley. An older form of major communal festival named g.Yagmchod was celebrated around Ura by hereditary bon po. However, when their lineages terminated in the absence of new and willing incumbents, g.Yag-mchod declined and became a minor calendric rite eventually performed in village temples by a smaller number of individuals. Since various sets of the rabs texts for g.Yag-mchod survive in manuscript form, we know this communal festival type was once sophisticated and closely resembled many other major cult festivals in north-eastern Bhutan. A simplified Srid-pa’i

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lha rite for livestock called g.Yag-lha, one based upon worship of ’O-de Gung-rgyal as the nor lha or ‘livestock deity’, was then continued by individual yak-owning households within Ura communities. Finally, during the past decade prior to my field research, g.Yag-lha declined and eventually ceased right throughout Ura. Why did celebration of g.Yag-lha cease? Herding and husbandry are labour intensive strategies. However, modernisation processes gradually drained Ura of its young and active labour force, with children having to attend regular schooling, young adults migrating away for other forms of education and training, or to join government or military service, as well as to gain wage-labour employment in other sectors of the economy in growing towns or tourism areas. Parallel with loss of domestic labour resources, most locally made animal products formerly essential for domestic life and trade quickly became replaced by an inf lux of easily obtained manufactured goods, mostly imported from neighbouring India. Furthermore, the crucial role played by livestock in providing dung to fertilise the buckwheat fields was superseded by availability of industrial fertilisers. Likewise, livestock were no longer required for transportation when motor roads and vehicles became available. Thus, within a relatively short span of time, Ura communities stopped keeping yak and other bovine animals. Worship of the nor lha to benefit livestock then became a completely redundant cultural practice. A complex set of agencies and parallel development of different socio-economic and demographic processes lay behind these rapid transformations in Ura, and cessation of Srid-pa’i lha worship in the area was just one among various epiphenomena related to them. Most other worship communities maintaining the cult elsewhere never depended as heavily upon livestock as Ura residents did. Thus, what transpired in Ura and a few neighbouring communities was area-specific to some high degree.

Somewhere in Kurtö In a grain farming, Kurtöp speaking settlement located along the upper valley of the Kuri Chu river in Kurtö, a

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hereditary lineage of bon shamans ceased transmission of their role. This precipitated a permanent halt to annual Sridpa’i lha cult festivals there in 2002. The causes informing these developments can be traced back to the mid-twentieth century, and to the socio-economic standing of a single family household and its internal relations. In the following account of what took place, I will call the settlement in question the village, and either avoid people’s names or use pseudonyms in italics. The bon shaman lineage in the village was formerly a substantial khral pa or ‘taxpayer’ household within the premodern Bhutanese state system. This meant the household owned considerable land and employed two classes of dependant serf families, grwa pa and bza’ pa, to work its land to meet the household’s collective tax obligations.3 Households belonging to an elite socio-economic and political minority in any given village have almost exclusively held the primary sponsorship role in many worship communities in the Srid-pa’i lha cult in this part of Bhutan. Such households all held premodern khral pa status, while they also often contained the lineages of bon shamans and other hereditary ritual performers in the cult. The status of this entire echelon of wealthier khral pa households was transformed dramatically during the mid- to late 1950s. Enlightened social reforms enacted by the Third Wangchuk Dynasty monarch of Bhutan, King Jigme Dorji, were initiated towards eliminating hereditary privilege as it was widely supported by way of the traditional taxation system. The reforms ushered in an on-going process of undermining the socio-economic basis sustaining the major khral pa households in areas such as Kurtö.4 At the time of the Third King’s reforms, the household of the hereditary bon shaman in the village was one of only two khral pa households owning virtually all land within the village. They suddenly lost all of their dependant and landless grwa pa and bza’ pa labour force and were no longer able to maintain former levels of domestic economic activity. The household found itself with far fewer available labour and surplus grain resources for preparing and staging Srid-pa’i lha festivals as the hereditary sponsors. This placed the household under stress since the community expected them to continue to invest in their hereditary obligation towards the cult. In the wake of the reforms, the elderly bon shaman

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of this household stepped down due to advanced age. He and his wife then allotted the inheritance share of house and land to their two daughters since daughter inheritance is a normative preference in Kurtö. However, for unknown reasons the parents favoured their daughter named Yangchen over her sister. Yangchen received a two-thirds share of all properties and effectively became the head of the family. Yangchen was married, and her son Ngawang received the lineage transmission of the bon shaman from his grandfather. One strict ritual taboo that all hereditary bon shamans must observe is complete avoidance of birth and death events. This is due to fear of the strong pollution associated with them, which is regarded as highly offensive for ancestral lha. According to custom, a man from the leading family must help carry corpses when deaths occur in a village, as well as participate in funeral and mourning events both for his own household and for those elsewhere in the community. But Ngawang was now completely disqualified from this role due to his becoming the new bon shaman. Thus, Yangchen requested that her nephew, that is, her sister’s son Rinchen, take over this household duty associated with death rites. Later, Ngawang transacted a customary uxorilocal magpa marriage with a wife from another village, departed from his natal household, and was no longer able to practically function as the bon shaman. A new bon shaman was sought, but deaths in the family meant there were few suitable male candidates of proximity within the kin group to whom the transmission might pass. Yangchen then requested her nephew Rinchen to assume the role of bon shaman since he was the next logical and closest candidate. Rinchen’s first response to his aunt’s request was that she had already appointed him the corpse carrier, thus he was technically polluted and disqualified, yet now she was asking him to take on a role with a conflicting ritual qualification. He finally agreed to become the next bon shaman on one condition: that Yangchen re-divide the inherited shares of the household property into two equal portions each for herself and for her sister, Rinchen’s mother. Yangchen rejected this condition, remained intractable, and bad feelings developed within the family. The internal coherence and cooperation required of the extended family holding the bon shaman lineage and role of chief sponsor

household broke down to the extent that they no longer invested in the Srid-pa’i lha festival. Due to initial community fears, that without worship of the Srid-pa’i lha the village fortunes and wealth would go into general decline, other households shouldered the major responsibilities for staging the festival for several years. Some chanting of the rabs was lead by a man who was a hereditary assistant of the bon shaman lineage-holders. Yet, community concerns arose that the rites where not being performed by the actual bon shaman, and that this might offend the deities just as much as no worship at all. A final ultimatum was given to Yangchen’s household, stating that if the family did not overcome their internal dispute, and resume their hereditary obligations as bon shamans and festival sponsors, then they would be held responsible for any disasters and decline which might befall the village in the future. This community has staged no further festivals. I documented other hereditary sponsor households from Bhutan that were socially and economically degraded due to the Third King’s reforms, in the same manner and in the same area as that featured in the above example. However, these others households had managed to continue seamlessly fulfilling their roles as sponsors and ritual specialists serving the Srid-pa’i lha cult up until the period of my field research. The internal family developments in this example are unique to the household in question, and not amenable to any generalisation.

Regional Factors As mentioned in the example of Ura above, and for Changmadung in chapter 10, a net population loss from rural settlements is a recent reality in all worship communities within the distribution zone of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. This is no localised trend. For several decades, a major transregional migration phenomenon has been developing right along the extended eastern Himalayan chain.5 Highlanders from remoter rural areas are systematically moving downstream to live, work, study and marry outsiders in expanding towns and urban centres generally located in lower valley areas along the more southern fringes of the mountain

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chain. Such migrations cannot simply be explained as a form of ‘urban drift’ generated by labour markets and new aspirations, such as one sees occurring on the plains of neighbouring India. One significant driver of out-migration from the highlands has been the relative lack of the modern – or even any – infrastructure and services that Himalayan states have been attempting to install and properly maintain in their highland areas since the mid-twentieth century. This failure by Himalayan states to develop their remoter northern boundaries has complex, internal political, social and economic factors contributing to it. Moreover, in some regions, it is exacerbated by international geopolitical developments. In Arunachal Pradesh, for example, high levels of militarisation in mountainous border areas by both India and China, and the many attendant impacts of this, have even more rapidly transformed social life in those areas, or made them unattractive to continue living in. The regionally evident phenomenon of out-migration and associated decline in rural highland population size itself need not necessarily lead to the cessation of Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals at any given site. Rather, it is the new demographic profiles generated in many villages by out-migration that trigger decline in community rituals. A majority of persons leaving their natal villages in the highlands have been young adults and children. Thus, the premodern, and even recently still observable social structure of two-, three- and even sometimes four-generation extended family households is in rapid decline, or even non-existent in many communities. The impacts of this upon local ritual systems and forms of religious life are multiple. Young persons living away from their villages are no longer able or willing to be recruited into roles as ritual specialists to replace ageing and deceased incumbents, since this always requires training and residence in situ within the village. Since they cannot be, or are not present to attend festivals and rites, there is not even any casual, let along systematic, transfer of knowledge and experience concerning village cultural practices. Moreover, while younger migrants are often able and willing to send financial assistance back to their villages in order to help sponsor cult festivals, what this cannot compensate for, and what then becomes the sole

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responsibility of the mainly older generations of remaining village residents, is the considerable labour input needed to successfully stage a communal festival. Somebody must prepare the home-brewed alcohol, the volumes of offerings from first harvest grains, the erecting of ritual altars in the forest, collection of incense plants, hunting or fishing for offering animals, repairs to and new fabrication of costumes and accoutrements of ritual performers, cooking of feasts, and scores of other tasks that are required. Most of the problems resulting from demographically imbalanced communities are felt across the board in village cultural life. They are just as acute in terms of their impacts upon local Buddhist communal rites and institutions as they are for the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its festivals. For example, recruiting of young, lay male Buddhist ritual specialists termed gomchen in eastern Bhutanese villages has been steadily declining for the past two decades,6 precisely parallel to an increasing failure in transmitting bon shaman lineages and sub-shaman roles to younger incumbents within the same region. What might make a difference between these two cases is that, unlike the local community-based cult, Buddhism is the state religion in Bhutan. Its clerics and institutions are highly organised and can command considerable resources, and thus Buddhists may respond to changes they perceive as detrimental in unique and potentially potent ways. In the neighbouring Mon-yul Corridor of India, Buddhist clerics have also become directly involved in state politics and social movements. Another result of active Buddhist institutions in regions of both countries where the cult occurs is their on-going influence upon normative representations and prescriptions of what constitutes national and regional ‘culture’ and ‘tradition’. For example, community practices which include animal sacrifice, or that underpin domestic priorities such as success in hunting, and are focussed upon exclusive, inherited ancestral deities find no place in the heavily Buddhist-influenced Gross National Happiness policy recently promoted in Bhutan. Similarly, these same practices and patterns are excluded from versions of ‘Monpa Culture’ promoted by Buddhist oriented associations and activists in western Arunachal Pradesh.

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Out-migration and its multiple impacts upon the integrity of rural community viability was the main factor that my methodology allowed me to generalise as an explanation for the cult’s contemporary decline across the research region. Many contributing factors might also be introduced to explain the decline. For example, I sometimes encountered changes in attitudes and aspirations in persons with higher levels of education. Their new horizons of knowledge and desires caused them to view the cult as irrelevant for their lives, as being based upon cosmological perspectives that were no longer plausible, or as a folk curiosity or relic surviving from the less happy, premodern modes of life their elders and forebears had experienced. However, such factors – or at least their representation by informants – are highly variable between individuals, and different research methods than those I employed would have to be applied to sample them more systematically.

of defunct festivals we have available reveals not a single instance of a discontinued festival being revived once again. At the time of writing, nobody can predict the future status of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, but these are the telling facts as they stand at present.

The types of more recent modern transformations just discussed have only helped to accelerate what appears to have been a much longer process of decline in social and cultural significance of distant and apical ancestors. This process would have begun already in the wake of earlier missionary Buddhism which places no significance whatsoever upon people’s ancestral deities. It was later strongly accentuated due to premodern state formation that occurred with an antipathy towards clans and their political implications. During the modern era, even the most proximate ancestral bonds have become attenuated as family life changes rapidly. Grandparents and parents remain in isolated, rural villages while their younger offspring migrate away for a different life in towns and cities, or at the sites of large infrastructure projects, and even in foreign countries. If anything, it is the opening of this complex generation gap that could spell the end of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in the foreseeable future. Participants in the cult have always received and learned to practice it directly from their immediate forebears by fact of birth and kin group membership. If descendants of those active cult participants I encountered no longer choose – for whatever reasons – to continue their hereditary responsibility of staging ancestral festivals, nobody else will ever do so on their behalf. The record

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Notes

I n t roduct ion 1

2

3 4 5

6 7

8

I intend ‘ethnolinguistics’ in line with Hymes 2004 [1971] (see esp. p. 83 n. 6) and Mathiot 1979, yet other scholars discussing the eastern Himalayas use the term differently. For example, in van Driem 2005 and van Driem 2012 the ‘ethno-’ referent does not primarily include articulation of detailed ethnographic or historical data in relation to populations speaking modern languages, but rather projections based on archaeological, genetic and anthropometric data combined with linguistic reconstructions. Other linguists studying eastern Himalayan languages, such as Blench and Post 2014, Bodt 2014 and Post and Burling In Press, agree more with my own usage. Although technically accurate from an ethnographic perspective, I abandoned the designation Srid-pa’i lha Bon used in Huber 2013, in order to avoid yet another Bon label and the existing essentialism associated with the proper name Bon. See Blackburn 2007, Blackburn 2010, Huber and Blackburn 2012: 2-3 fig. 1.1. See van Driem 2018: 12, cf. also the smaller “Eastern Himalaya” region proposed by Blench and Post 2014: 74 n. 6. See van Driem 2011, van Driem 2013, van Driem 2014, Blench and Post 2014, while Bradley 2017 and LaPolla 2016 question the proposal's validity. Balikci 2008, Blackburn 2010. For these reasons, the otherwise unique documentation of a Sherdukpen Khiksaba festival by Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013 remains of limited value. At the time of writing, the only reliable and comprehensive monographic studies of rural social organisation in the research region by trained anthropologists were Brauen 1994 and Brauen 1997 for a Bumthang community, Dorji Penjore 2009 for a Kheng Chikor village, and the unpublished doctoral dissertation by Dorji Penjore 2016 for a community on the east bank of the Mangde Chu river south of Trongsa. The cultural geography study by Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015 of certain Mon-yul Corridor communities contains portions of useful data, but is often inaccurate and incomplete. Concerning cultural information, these authors ignored the indigenous spoken Dirang Tshangla and Dakpa languages of their research subjects, while on social organisation and history they failed to utilise both the large variety of local texts written in Tibetan

9 10

11 12

13 14 15 16 17

18 19 20

language and the extensive holdings of colonial and post-colonial era documents in state, national and international archives. Andvik 2010, Hyslop 2017. Rare and mainly very recent exceptions to this trend include: the reading of Old Tibetan ritual texts by Dotson 2008 in relation to Himalayan ethnographic data; the first results of articulating bon ritual texts with performance of rites in highland Nepal by Ramble 2009 and Ramble 2015; and professed interest in researching Gnyan ’bum rites as performed by le’u pa ritual specialists in Gansu by Berounský 2016 and Berounský 2017. See Samuel 2013: 81, who briefly surveyed a collection of such accounts. Useful, shorter studies of Himalayan shamans east of Nepal can be found in Balikci 2008, Gorer 1984 [1938], Siiger 1967, Aisher 2006 and Gros 2012, while Blackburn 2010 offers the only monograph to date. Swancutt 2012, while Nevot 2012 uses “literate shamans”. See Bjerken 2001 and Bjerken 2004 for a critical review of the literature, and Kværne 2009. See, recently, von Stuckrad 2002, Znamenski 2007, Tomášková 2013. Höfer 1994: 18 n. 2. Michael Oppitz 2013, vols. I-II comparatively grouped shaman drum morphology along the Himalayas into “islands of form” (i.e., “west Himalayan” – albeit only applying to Nepal – “central Himalayan”, “east Himalayan” and “Qiang”). These in effect roughly approximate to a series of inter-regional shamanic tradition-complexes comprising clusters of ethnic groups (the Qiang excepted), albeit based upon a single material culture feature of shamans. Oppitz 1998: 338-341, cf. also Oppitz 2007c and Oppitz 2013. Allen 1980, Allen 1997, Allen 1997a, Allen 2012, Ebert and Gaenszle 2008: 11-13, cf. Blackburn 2007, Blackburn 2008: Introduction. Works by Oppitz 2013, Oppitz 2007a, Oppitz 2007b, Oppitz 2007c and Oppitz 1998 provide the most compelling empirical index yet for demonstrating continuities across the Himalayan and Tibetan Plateau region into Siberia using morphology, function and myths of the shaman’s drum. De Sales 1995 and Huber 2015b commented on a particular type of ‘buffoon’ or naked performer associated with phallic and sexual symbolism. Balikci 2008: 165-169 sketched typologies of community ritual specialists and their rites. Oppitz 1997: 525-526 n. 7 discussed animal regeneration and the ritual burial of bones of hunted game. Johansen 2003: 142-146 and map on p. 145 plots ethnographic occurrences of premodern “journey to the upper

561

Notes to pages 6–19

21 22 23

24

25 26 27

28

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world” and “possession” types of “shamanizing” across northern Asia and the greater Tibetan Plateau and Himalaya region. Sidky 2010: 209, Riboli 2000: 56-57, Maskarinec 1995: 98, Maskarinec 1998: viii, Hitchcock and Jones 1976, Watters 1975 and others have articulated profiles of shamans from the Siberian context with data from Nepal. See Aris 1979, Petech 1990, and Ardussi 2004. See Jacques and Michaud 2011 on the Na-Qiangic subgroup, with five Naic and seventeen Qiangic languages forming two major branches. Random surface finds of objects like stone celts have by now been made in most eastern Himalayan valleys; see Aris 1979: xviii-xxiii plate 1, Ashraf 1990: chapter 3 and Deori 2005 for examples. While celt finds are sometimes pressed into dubious service by scholars as if they were evidence related to the ancestors of known or present-day populations, most such objects can tell us very little since almost all lack thorough discovery documentation and stratigraphic data. The systematic excavation by Ashraf 1990: chapts. 4-6 at Parsi Parlo, Lower Subansiri district, Arunachal Pradesh provides a notable exception. In Huber 2012, I tried to make this same case for the characteristics of migration in the eastern Himalayas since that phenomenon is so widely but simplistically invoked in scholarship concerning the origins and identities of peoples in this region. Stein 1972, Ramble 2008, and Balikci 2008. Huber 1999. For summary accounts of varieties of yullo/yallo/rialo rites among speakers of western Tani languages, see Deuri 1978, Pandey 1981: 12-21, Duarah 2004: 114-147, Tob Tarin Tara 2005: 87-111. While these rites were originally staged at the behest of individual sponsors to increase their own status following a regional pattern known as the ‘feast of merit’, during the post-colonial period of Indian administration in Arunachal Pradesh these same rites have become reinvented as annual ‘tribal festivals’ with very different types of significance. Accounts published in India often fail to recognise this distinction. For critical engagement with east Himalayan examples, see Huber 2010, Mullard 2011, and the individual chapters by Geoff Childs, Robbins Burling, Toni Huber and F.K.L. Chit Hlaing in Huber and Blackburn 2012. The idea that each ‘tribe’ or ethnolinguistic grouping in Arunachal Pradesh has its own origin and migration narrative, and that oral versions of these can be used uncritically to discuss the past, remains a stock-in-trade approach of writers describing peoples within the region; e.g., see most recently Bodt 2014b. However, production of such narratives is an artefact of on-going, external ‘tribal’ classification and reification processes related to colonialism and the extension of post-colonial state administration into the eastern Himalayas, as well as present political positioning and social competition among local populations triggered by this. Reported oral origin narratives for ‘tribes’ or entire ethnolinguistic groupings also contradict both local ethnographic and premodern historical data, in which such narratives only exist at the level of individual descent groups, such as clans and lineages, and village settlements. For checking Tshangla narratives the then existing materials by Andvik 2010, Das Gupta 1968 and Egli-Roduner 1987 proved valuable.

1. O v erv i e w of t h e Sr i d-pa’i lh a Cu lt 1

2

3 4 5 6

7 8

9 10 11 12

13 14 15

16 17

For example, Karmay 1998: 141 referred to “everyday rituals” as manifestations of “secular beliefs” (Karmay and Nagano 2002: viii), Snellgrove 1967: 15, 17 to “magical rites” and “magical rituals”, Stein 1972 to a “nameless religion”, and Ramble 2008 to “pagan rituals”. For example, Namkhai Norbu 1995 used gzhung and thabs (both of which his translators glossed as ‘rites’), and Pa-tshab Pa-sangs dBang-’dus and Glang-ru Nor-bu Tshe-ring 2007 refer to the antecedent narratives recorded in the dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che manuscripts as bon gyi gna’ dpe. Bloch 2008: 2056-2058. Smith 2004: 326, and cf. ch. 14 for his wider distinction between “domestic religion” and “civic and national religion”. Stein 1972a, Kretschmar 1981, cf. Sonam Chhoki 1994: 118 on local songs about Pha-jo ’Brug-sgom Zhig-po. See, for example, the claims and language of Karmay 2009: 63-65 concerning the manuscripts from dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che, and Karmay 2002: viii for manuscripts with old ritual texts of otherwise unknown provenance. For this meaningful gloss on rabs, see Dotson 2008 and Dotson 2013: 123-125. I use the term festival intentionally since all events it describes invariably feature feasting for the Srid-pa’i lha to whom rites are directed, and a collective meal for all human participants. Srid-pa’i lha festivals are never solemn events, being characterised by a festive mood of celebration. Huber 2015b. Tournadre 2013, Tournadre and Karma Rigzin 2015. See the useful discussions in Samuel 1990 and Samuel 2013, Bjerken 2001 and Bjerken 2004, and Kværne 2009. For discussions about Bon/bon as object of inquiry, see Stein 2010: 231-272, Stein 1988, Samuel 1990, Kværne 2000, Bjerken 2001 and 2004, and Blezer 2008, amongst others. Stein 2010: 232 n. 1, cf. Kapstein and Dotson 2007: ix, n. 4. See Samuel 2013: 81, who briefly surveyed a collection of such accounts. For example, Karma Phuntsho 2013: 135 stated, “the overall role of Bön in the history of Bhutan is of little significance, if at all” in relation to a historical period spanning some thirteen centuries. Lengthy works by native authors on cultural and religious life in the Mon-yul Corridor barely even mention the existence of ‘Bon’, and if so as a single sentence covering only one possible meaning for that term; see Mon gyi Nang-bstan rig-gzhung ’Dzin-skyong tshogs-pa 2002: 242, Tsewang Norbu 2008: 181-182, and Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 154. On the same phenomenon in Sikkim, see Balikci 2008: 35. In the cult’s literature bon never occurs as a verb related to broadcast of sound; cf. Simon 1956. See the Sri gsas bung ba stag chung bzhugs manuscript in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 185 (= f. 1b), at the completion of which we read: sri gsas bdar ba rdzogs so /; 189 (= f. 8a). The French translation by Karmay 2013a: 723 appears to use “texte” for bon here. For another example in which bon means either ‘rite’ or perhaps ‘gift’, see the undated

Notes to pages 19–22

18

19

Ming sring dpal bgos dang lha ’dog bcas bzhugs manuscript (Karmay and Nagano 2002: 217-227), the first section of which relates a myth of origin about the sharing of wealth between siblings in the context of a marriage rite. The priest in the myth is consistently referred to as the lha bon thod dkar or lha bon and not as a bon or bon po. When listing the materials needed for the rite, the text states: ‘The [father] rGya-rje Ling-dkar said, “Such things as a lha horse, a lha yak, a lha sheep, a lha goat and white silk for a lha turban, those are the materials which are needed for the rite/gift (bon), and required as the price of a daughter, and having searched for them all, place them in the hands of the seven gnya’u men. The seven men who are those gnya’u, each mounted a speedy stallion, went into space, to the land of the lha.”’ (rgya rje ling dkar zhal na re / lha rta dang ni lha g.yag dang / lha lug dang ni lha ra dang / dar dkar lha thod la sogs pa / bon la dgos pa’i rdzas rnams dang / bu mo’i rin du dgos pa rnams / thams cad tshang ma btsal nas ni / gnya’u mi bdun phyag du phul / gnya’u de’i mi bdun gyis / mgyogs pa’i rta pho re re zhon / lha yul de ni dbyings su byon /). In Sikkim, Balikci 2008: 338 found “the term bon refers to specific oral ritual texts that are chanted and considered to be the core of the bon specialists’ ritual knowledge”, while bon ban is the category of ritual specialists who can chant such texts. For bon as ‘rite’, ‘content of ritual’ or ritual specialist ‘repertoire’ in older texts, see Stein 2010: 268, Blezer 2008: 428 n. 13, Orosz 2003: 21 and van Schaik 2013, and see also Bialek 2018, 2: 65 n. 2 and 262 n. 4, “I understand bon as an old v2 stem of the verb ’on “to give, to bring””, which would yield the substantive ‘offering’ or ‘gift’. Karmay 1972: 350 admits the same meaning in a twentieth century g.Yung-drung Bon text for ’dur bon “rituals involving the evocation of the spirits of the dead”. Pommaret 2009 and Pommaret 2014a (cf. Bodt 2012: 460) emphasised “Bon-chos” or “Bon chos” used by a generic population named “the Bhutanese”, defining it as “beliefs and rituals which are considered non-Buddhist and revolve around the fertility and prosperity (G.yang) of a community and the worship of local deities which create the identity of the community” (Pommaret 2014: 133). However, the term remains unreported in any ethnographic data relevant to the above definition; see all seven studies in Wayo Wayo (2004) describing local rites associated with the spoken terms bon, bonpo, bonkar and lhabon, also Pommaret 1994 and Pommaret 1996, ’Brug gi dngos med lam gsol: 176-179, whereas both Pommaret 2004: 68 and Tandin Dorji 2002: 179 n. 3 introduce the formal spelling into their own discourse yet report only local use of bonpo, bon po, and bon mi’i bon bstod. “Bon-chos” is not attested in any available lexicon, wordlist, grammar or handbook generated to date for Tshangla, Chocha-ngacha, Brokpaké and the East Bodish languages, and appears to reflect modern Dzongkha usage by educated persons only. However, Dzongkha lexicons define bon chos as the historical g.Yung-drung Bon religious tradition (chos lugs) without any reference to Pommaret’s definition; see rDzong-kha Gong-’phel dBang-’dzin 2005: 660. Reported bon chos to gloss spoken discourse appears to be a misidentification of the homophonous expression bonchö (written bon mchod) ‘bon offering [rites]’; see van Driem 1998: 427 on spoken Dzongkha chö for written mchod. This term is common in formal and colloquial use across the region (see n. 20 below), and frequently incorporated into names of local rites and

festivals associated with the word bon. For example, see Pommaret 2014: 34 on Ngangla Trong reporting her formal “Bon chos” to gloss spoken oral data – the original language is not mentioned, but both Khengkha and Tshangla are used by residents – from a non-literate ritual specialist termed bonpo whose rites are central to a festival named mChod-pa La. 20 These written forms all occur widely in both modern and premodern indigenous documents and discourse in Bhutan; for examples see ’Brug gi dngos med lam gsol: 176-179, rDzong-kha Gong-’phel dBang’dzin 2005: 660, Sangs-rgyas Don-grub 2011. 21 Written bon dkar and bon nag; for Bhutanese discussions see Tashi Choden 2004: 1 n. 1, Dorji Penjore 2004: 50, Sangs-rgyas Don-grub 2011: 285. All later usages no doubt trace long trajectories from earlier representations, such as the [bon] shid nag po versus lha chos dkar po or dkar chos discussions of funeral rites first occurring in PT 0239 (see also Stein 1983: 181), and in the undated but early Dba’ bzhed redaction; see Pasang Wangdu and Diemberger 2000: 95 = f. 26a, 102-103 = f. 30a. Thus, the same terms and meanings, spread via missionary Buddhism and its texts, occur widely in neighbouring Himalayan highlands; for Nepal see Mumford 1989: 32, 77-78, Ramble 2008: 148, cf. Martin 2001: 299, and for Sikkim see Balikci 2008: 11 n. 12 who reports a similar division into white-coded lha bon rites and red- or black-coded ’dre bon rites, the latter associated with blood sacrifice. 22 Hazod 2014. 23 Hazod 2014: 7, cf. also Ramble 2006: 132, 148 who selected ‘invitation’ as one of “The central principles that emerge from the literature” concerning the ideal of kingship, although these issues were discussed earlier by Haarh 1969 and Stein 2010 [1985]: 177-179. 24 Samuel 1993, cf. Holmberg 1989: Introduction. 25 Stein 2010: 148. 26 Stein 1973: 412-417, Snellgrove 1967: 311, and the entry srid pa in BGT: 2975. 27 On srid pa and srid pa’i as a prefix or initial qualifier element in translated names, see: Francke 1930a: 8 has ‘Srid pa (rulers of the world)’; Stein 1972: 243-244 has ‘created world’, and in Stein 1985: 105, 125 both ‘dieux de l’existence’ and ‘(dieux de la) création (srid pa)’; for descriptive titles of ritual specialists in the Gzi brjid, Snellgrove 1967: 82-83, 94-95, 118-119 uses ‘bonpo of the original tradition’ for srid pa rgyud kyi bon po, but ‘bon of the stream of existence’ for srid pa rgyud kyi bon; one of Namkhai Norbu’s translators has ‘existence’ and ‘forebears of mankind’ (Namkhai Norbu 1995: 148) while another uses ‘ancestral’ (Namkhai Norbu 2013: 102); Karmay 1998: 252 translated the clause srid pa’i lha rgyud ma bshad na with ‘If the history of the divine lineage (of men) of the world had not been explained [...]’, and in Karmay 1996: 61 he has ‘old deity of the world’ for srid pa’i lha rgan; Haarh 1969: 136, 170, 212-213 et passim astutely left srid pa’i lha as an untranslated Tibetan expression referring to a class or group of deities. 28 Beckwith 2011: 227 n. 18. 29 Karmay 1996. 30 Primary Tibetan synonyms for lugs are tshul, srol and khrims, all basically meaning ‘method’, ‘usage’, ‘way [of doing somthing]’, etc.

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Notes to pages 23–31

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For example, in the dGa’-thang manuscripts the beginning of a section in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs reads: ‘The antecedent narrative (rabs) of bKra-za gZig-’brang is wished for. It is the method (lugs) of the Phag bon gSas-khri.’ (bkra za gzIg ’brang gyI rans la ’tshal lo / phag bon gsas khri’i lugs lags so /; Dga’ thang: 52, 167 f. 37, l. 3-4), while the end of the same section reads: “The method (lugs) [for] the rite (bon) of the Phag bon gSas-khri is completed.” (phag bon gsas khri i bon lugs / rdzogs s+ho //; Dga’ thang: 54, 170, f. 40, l. 4). For example, see Karmay 1998: 245, Dotson 2013: 123, but also Snellgrove 1967: 20, 256 n. 9 who introduced the concept of ‘archetype’ for Tibetan dpe gsol to describe such narratives and their function. I agree with Strickland 1992: 257-287 that the applicability of such terms must be examined for each oral (or written) tradition studied. Dotson 2013: 144. See the concise example gna’ phan na / da yang phan no / in Dga’ thang: 48, 157, f. 27, l. 2. Dotson 2013: 143-144. Stein 2010: 304 writing in 1968. My translation from the French of Stein 1971: 526, who was echoing Levi-Strauss’ methodological dictum for the study of myth. The unit ‘worship community’ used herein is defined in appendix A, Register of Worship Communities and Festivals to 2013. In addition to my own register, Dorji Penjore 2004: 49 listed Kharpu festival sites along the Jamkhar Chu, although I was unable to confirm his records for Langdurbi and Digala as valid and active worship communities. Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 126 listed sites for the same festival along the mid- to lower Kuri Chu valley, but I was unable to confirm his record for sGong la spong as a valid and active worship community. At the time of writing, published research by trained linguists on individual languages spoken by Srid-pa’i lha worship communities included two comprehensive grammars (Andvik 2010 for Tshangla, Hyslop 2017 for Kurtöp) two grammatical overviews (van Driem 1995 and van Driem with Dr’âsho Sangye Dorji 2015 for Bumthap, Das Gupta 1968 for Tshangla), and several short studies (Bodt 2014a for Tshangla, van Driem 2007a for Dzala and Dakpa, Hyslop and Karma Tshering 2010, Shafer 1954 for Dakpa, Hyslop 2013, Hyslop 2014 and Hyslop 2016 for the East Bodish group, Jagar Dorji 2011 for Henkha/ Nyenkha – also called Phobjip and Upper Mangdep, Michailovsky and Mazaudon 1994 for Bumthap, Tournadre and Karma Rigzin 2015 for Chocha-ngacha), see also citations in Bodt 2014, Bodt 2014b, and Blench and Post 2011 for additional studies. As the present study demonstrates, most classifications of ethnolinguistic groupings given by Bodt 2012, Bodt 2014 and Bodt 2014b for the region, and especially his discussions of them prior to the modern era, are premature from the perspectives of thorough ethnographic and historical research; cf. my conclusions in Reflections III. See, in particular, Chen Liming 1994: 16-18, and Xizang shehui lishi diaocha ziliao zongkan bianjizu 1987, II: 164-170, 173-74 specifically on Legs-po (Lebu in Chinese). These Chinese sources use the term ‘Bon’ to stand for the general category ‘folk religion’, meaning any practices that are not explicitly Buddhist. On Gongdukha and its speakers, see van Driem 2004: 320-322. I am grateful to Karma Tshering pers. comm. April 2016 for additional information on the Gongdukha speaking worship communities.

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43 44

45

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Since the old Tshangla speaking settlements of Dirang district with Bapu ranked clans all maintained the Srid-pa’i lha cult, I had expected to find it at Moshing in Kalaktang. The very limited evidence that the cult may once have been present in an earlier form of the annual Tönsang Minsang festival celebrated by local tshan remains inconclusive. The current Tönsang Minsang is largely a combination of elements from the cult of Ama Jomo and village Buddhism. See Kennedy 1914: 15, Blench and Post 2011: 4 Table 1 with the Sartang sample from Rahung (p. 3). On the conflict in 1810–1811 between Sher-tug and Nam-them (i.e., Nam-shu and Them-spang), See Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 11b–12b; cf. MacKenzie 1884: 19 on the impacts of this conflict on Thempang’s relations with Assam. Collective memories of the conflict are preserved in the oral folk histories of both Thempang and Rahung. See also Mills 1948: 2, 7 on the “Eastern Monbas” and their relation to Sherdukpen and Thempang. Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013 offer the only comprehensive account of Khiksaba to date, albeit with no documentation of its many oral ritual texts; see also interesting earlier observations about Khiksaba, its deities and ritual specialists by Sharma 1961: 74-75, 83-85 and von Fürer-Haimendorf, 1982: 174-175. Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 101 n. 10 state of Brahmi “This term certainly refers to a form of Sanskrit or Pali.”, although Brahmi (and Brahmilo) as an identity of Dakpa has long been known; see Barua 1995: 243, van Driem 2001: 916-917, Duarah 1990: 6. Much Khiksaba terminology described as Mey/Sherdukpen (e.g., Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 4, 145) is essentially the same Tibetan-based ritual vocabulary found everywhere to the north, albeit pronounced by Mey/Sherdukpen speakers and sometimes transmitted via intermediate languages. For example, lo for Tibetan lha, loyak for lhayak (CT lha g.yag), lochang for lhachang (CT lha chang), loblang for lhabrang (CT lha brang), and so on. Other nonTibetan Khiksaba vocabulary is derived from Tawang Dakpa usage. For instance, Baidongpo naming a type of ritual performer during Khiksaba is a borrowing from Dakpa beydungpa referring to a performer during Pla festivals (see ch. 12); spoken Dakpa poudung/ beydung comes from CT dpa’ dam (cf. Dzongkha dpa’ rtags, and perhaps Tshangla dung), which all mean ‘sword’. The same Tibetan and Dakpa influences are evident in Mey/Sherdukpen folk song lyrics (see Rinchin Dondrup 2000) and oratory (see Aris 1979: 79-80). Tchat Sowai is the transcription used by Vanessa Cholez pers. comm. 26 February 2011, while published sources have used Kashyat-sowai Chasoai, Chak-Sowai and Chchaksowa. For notes on the festival as celebrated at Wanghoo and Singchung villages, see Deuri 1971, Deuri 1983: 7-11, Dhar 1995a: 188, Ghosh 1992: 71-74, Grewal 1997: 89-94, Pandey 1991: 87, Pandey 1996: 81, 83, 85-88, Rinchin Dondrup 1990: vi. Vanessa Cholez attended Tchat Sowai festivals as an aspect of her doctoral dissertation research in progress with the provisional title Transformations dans les modes de gestion et dans les perceptions de l’environnement arboré en Himalaya indien oriental (Paris/Laval). Photographs Vanessa kindly sent me from the Wanghoo Tchat Sowai celebrated during 2012 clearly revealed its material culture affinities with both the Sherdukpen Khiksaba and Rahungpa Chiksaybu festivals.

Notes to pages 31–32

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50 51 52

Kennedy 1914: 9-10, Ali 1946: 11, Elwin 1958: 155-156. It is difficult to understand the unsupported claim by Bodt 2014b: 170 that, “The Sherdukpen maintained a kind of patron-client relation with the Bugun people living in their immediate vicinity.” Reports from the 1940s and after reveal Sherdukpen to have been strongly dependent upon Bugun communities for food supplies, and in no position to exercise any patron role towards them. While Sherdukpen may have at times enjoyed favourable exchange terms for Indian salt, at other times the Bugun held the advantage; see Ali 1945: 19, Mills 1948: 6, Pandey 1996: 36. Mills 1948: 2-3 first reported Krime, Sharma 1961: 49 and later Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 16 report Khrime. Pandey 1996: 36. The oldest indigenous evidence of social identities recognisable as the later Sherdukpen occurs in repeated citations to the names Sher and sTug (sher tug, sher ltug, sher stug gnyis) during the first two decades of the nineteenth century in a historical document from Tawang; Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 11a-11b, 12b, 29a, 30b. Bodt 2014: 201 has greatly exaggerated the evidence of Sherdukpen historical presence back to the early seventeenth century, “Since the time of Ahom King Pratap Singha (imp. 1603–1641) the ‘sāt rājā’ or ‘seven kings’ of the Tshangla speakers of Metsho and Tötsho, the ‘sāt rājā’ of the Sherdukpen and the ba spu ‘Bapu’ rulers of the Tshangla of Thembang enjoyed the benefits of the ‘posa’ system”, cf. Bodt 2014b: 168. Careful Indian historians note the relevant Ahom Buranji and Assam Buranji literature only ever employs the generic Assamese names ‘Bhutia’ and ‘Sat Raja’ for referring to those hill peoples to the north who had political relations with Assam polities about duar lands at Kariapara and Charduar. Concerning any posa grant to these same hill peoples before the early nineteenth century, “There is no authoritative record of the grant, however, in any document or in the Ahom Buranjis”; see Bose 1997: 57, cf. Devi 1968: 199. The British colonial administration never referred to any earlier formal arrangements as a basis for posa claims, and assumed they developed over time out of oppressive customary practices, see Pemberton 1839: 16, MacKenzie 1884: 16-19, Lamb 1966, II: 297. After 1826, the British recognised that the non-specific Sat Raja name used in Assam applied to several communal or ethnic units settled in different parts of the Mon-yul Corridor who made claims on duar lands at Kariapara and Charduar. Nineteenth century British documents mention Charduar was visited by a number of different hill peoples from the north using the existing Assamese names Akha (or Kapachor Aka and Hazarikhowa Aka), Bhutia (or Bootia), Sath Raja and Thebengea (or Thebengiah, i.e., Thempangpa) for them. In 1838, Pemberton’s map showed the southern Mon-yul Corridor as occupied by “Char Dooar Bootias”; Pemberton 1839: Map of the Dooars in Assam. Administrative memoranda from 1844 record a group named the “Sath Rajas of Charduar” and “Charduar Bhootia Sath Rajahs” who first signed a formal posa agreement, albeit that this group name is not cited in any agreement text; Assam Secretariat 1882: 8th-9th pages of file. The 1882 copy of this 1844 agreement lists the individual signatories as “Durjee Rajah, Tangjoog Rajah, Dukpah Rajah, Joygpoo Rajah, Chang Khangdoo Rajah [comma missing] Sangja Rajah, Roop Rae Gaya Toung Bhungdoo Rajah, Surjyah of Bhutan”;

53 54

Assam Secretariat 1882: 5th page of file (cf. the copy in Aitchison 1892: 211, text XLL: “Durjee Rajah, Taugjoog Rajah, Dukpah Rajah, Joypoo Rajah, Chang Khangdoo Rajah Saugja Rajah, Roop Rae Gya Tooung Bhungdoo Rajah, Surjyah, of Bhootan”). It remains unknown exactly which peoples these names referred to at the time. Earlier twentieth century records already hold clues that those peoples outsiders later called Sherdukpen or Sengjithongji who now speak a Kho-Bwa cluster language were a composite community that incorporated factions with different ethnic and linguistic backgrounds, such as Tawang Dakpa speakers (e.g. the Khrime clan) and groups from Bhutan (e.g. the low ranked Yanlo), while they intermarried with both Hruso speakers and Tshangla speakers, maintained fluid alliances with different neighbouring communities such as the Bugun and the Rahungpa, and visited the Indian plains during winter in parties together with Tsangla speakers; Mills 1948, Ali 1945, Ali 1946, Sharma 1961. The only name from the 1844 agreement we can definitively associate with a community later known as Sherdukpen is “Roop Rae G[a]ya To[o]ung Bhungdoo Rajah”. The elements Roop Rae G[a]ya gloss the Assamese name Roop rai gaon for the Sherdukpen village (gaon) later called Rupa, which the British referred to as “Rooprai Ganw” and the “Rooprai clans” by the 1870s; MacKenzie 1884: 18-19. The To[o]ung element very likely represents the Thong status ranking claimed by ancestors of those patrician Sherdukpen clans with twentieth century names such as Thongduk, Thongchi and Thongu at Rupa, which Mills 1948: 1 reported as being called Thongthui (Mey/Sherdukpen thu, thuk means ‘village’). The presence of “Surjyah of Bhutan”, and perhaps also “Dukpah Rajah” (from ’Brug-pa ?), in the 1844 list provide a certain indicator the signatories were not limited to a single ethnolinguistic identity from only one place. On Kho-Bwa languages, see Blench and Post 2011, section 4, and for Bugun-Mey-Chug/Lish, Bodt 2014: 214-215, van Driem 2001: 473-479. The earliest brief mention of names recognisable as later Chug and Lish occur in Rgyal rigs redactions containing the Shar sDe-rang genealogy supplement, which is probably an early- to mid-eighteenth century addition to the text; see n. 100 below. The place name Chug is written Phyug; Rgyal rigs 2: 112, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 53b, 1. Lacking any nominal particle, phyug is likely the common variant of CT phyugs ‘livestock’, indicating a place or population involved in herding, which in turn suggests migrants from the north or some other group who worked for them. This is confirmed in the oldest known premodern reference that identifies the actual residents of Lish, the area very nearby and directly adjacent to Chug. The reference occurs in a list of transgressions that external populations were committing against residents of Dirang and Tawang areas around the year 1824, and states ‘At that time, the Klo-pa carried off about one hundred cows in the keeping of the sLid-pa’ (de dus klo pa rnams nas slid pa’i ba brgya skor chags ’khyer byed pa); see Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 29a. The wording here certainly suggests herders who did not own the cattle. Unidentified early inhabitants (mi snga) at Lish are mentioned in the Shar sDe-rang genealogy supplement, with various redactions of the text giving different readings. The Mor shing rgyal rigs: 55a, 4 calls them A mi gSar-pa, meaning ‘Ancestor(s) New One(s)’. The generic A mi title occurs

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Notes to pages 32–33

55

566

only once in Rgyal rigs redactions lacking the supplement (see Aris 1986: 79 nn. 25, 26), but eight times within the supplement itself. In all those latter contexts, its use appears to be intended as a variant of CT A mes or A myes ‘ancestor’ as a specific honorific address for patrilineal ancestors who are viewed as lineage or clan founders and first settlers. The Rgyal rigs 3: 51 redaction reads Dang-mi gSar-pa meaning ‘First person(s) (i.e., dang po mi) New One(s)’. The gSar-pa name common to both redactions directly implies ‘new’ migrants, rather than any pre-existing ‘old’ population. As with Chug, premodern references to Lish suggest localised economic and productive activities related to outsiders. The current spoken name Lish represents an aspirated, later modification of the older Tibetan place name occurring in earlier written records. Classical Tibetan spellings in documents going back at least three centuries include Klis, Glid, Lis, rLi, sLi, sLid and sLis. All these variations are spoken li (low, short tone without suffix, higher falling tone with suffix) in central and southern Tibetan dialects which pronounce compounded kl- and gl- as l-, ignore prefixes and do not pronounce suffixes da and sa following any vowel. Late nineteenth and twentieth century eyewitness accounts of the site up to 1955 consistently used the phonetic Lih that is cognate with all the oldest Tibetan spellings and their spoken form; see Nain Singh in Trotter 1915: 178, Kennedy 1914: 15, Governor’s Secretariat 1940: 8-9, Ali 1945: 22, and Imti 1955: pp. 10, 14 of the file. The Klis, Glid, Lis, rLi, sLi, sLid and sLis forms do not designate meaningful Tibetan words of stable orthography. However, attested Tibetan words with the pronunciation li almost certainly refer to some significant item of premodern Tibetan economic interest, of which there were several associated with the area in the form of ‘exotic’ products and materials. The primary candidate is li/sli referring to a wild forest pear or lychee (“a yellowish red apple, or Indian apple [...] cherry; cherries [...] sli-tsi small, wild-growing, cherry-like dwarf-apples”, see Jäschke 1881: 546, 586; Das 1902: 1213 “apple”; Goldstein 2001: 1075 “pear”). This is confirmed by historical accounts. For example, former Mon-yul Corridor resident Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 146-147 described how premodern administrators from mTsho-sna rDzong annually dispatched two specialist persons to Mon-yul to collect and carry a tax payment of tree fruits (shing tog) and medicinal herbs (rtsa sman), amongst which were fruits called li or li tog. These were transported to Lhasa and distributed to the Chinese Amban and high-ranking Tibetan government officers. Ye-shes ’Phrin-las’s ethnobotanical notes (p.161) list the species li under the area’s ‘fruit-bearing’ (’bras ldan) trees. A premodern botanical identification for a CT li/sli edible fruit actually growing in Dirang district allows two choices. One possibility is the wild pear Docynia indica (Tshangla litong), although edible fruits of silverberry (or ‘bastard oleaster’) Elagnus latifolia, sometimes referred to as a lychee (CT sli-tsi), must also be considered. During the period of my field research, in late autumn or early winter Dirang residents harvested the fruit that resembles a lychee and which they do call ‘forest lychee’ (Tshangla borong na litsi), and sold it for export to produce markets in Indian towns and cities. The earliest historical traces of these ’Brog-pa occur in the late seventeenth century Rgyal rigs and Lo rgyus manuscripts, where they are mentioned briefly in passing as settled at Me-rag and Sag-stengs.

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57

58

59

Local historians claim that both sites were missionised in what must have been the sixteenth century by Blo-bzang bsTan-pa’i sGron-me (1475-1542?), a Jo-bo clan scion and early dGe-lugs-pa convert from the neighbouring Tawang Tsho-gsum region, although no historical witnesses actually exist that are contemporary with these reported events; see Aris 1986: 44-45, 81-82, Lobsang Tenpa 2013. The Khyung gdung rabs manuscript dating from 1756 (not 1696-97, as Bodt 2012: 539 proposed apparently on the basis of a flawed, modern Bhutanese edition of the text), records an origin myth featuring members of three clans or lineages – the sKom, Rlon and Rog – who migrated and eventually settled at Me-rag and Sag-stengs. The Rog are the only one of these clans with an attested Tibetan Plateau history; see n. 18 of ch. 12. The Khyung gdung rabs features a pastiche of mythical content derived from a range of older Tibetan historiographical narratives and from parts of various Rgyal rigs redactions. The central myth of ‘mountain cutting’ (ri gcod pa) and concomitant regicide in the Khyung gdung rabs belongs to a very old Tibetan political narrative already recorded in the Rgyal rigs, as Hazod 2006 has demonstrated. The compiler of the Rgyal rigs reported a rambling and clearly composite gDung origin myth at the very start of which he inserted reference to the ancestors of ’Brog-pa at Me-rag and Sag-stengs in a single sentence, after which they play no further role. This isolated reference is unusual for various reasons, and appears to represent a compounding of originally separate traditions the work’s author/ compiler had little knowledge about. For instance, no clan or lineage names are given for these ’Brog-pa, although the sKom, Rlon and Rog names are all found in the rus list of section V in the same Rgyal rigs redactions. Also, the compiler states he collected the various versions of this story from diverse sources, none of which are near or related to the ’Brog-pa and their territory, while the story itself is actually intended to explain gDung origins in areas far distant from the ’Brog-pa. My findings reflect the earlier observations by Ali 1945: 3, who reported in detail on Tshangla speaking Bapu clan attitudes to marriage in Dirang and Kalaktang, and in which inhabitants of Lish and Chug remain complete outcasts within the regional marriage system. This was confirmed by Chowdhury 1979: 46; cf. Barua 1995: 229 on negative attitudes towards Lish and Chug among their neighbours. Details of the premodern taxation system are found in Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 143-152, Sarkar 1980: 34-38, Reid 1942: 287, 297-298, Ali 1945: 4-6, 21, Lamb 1966, II: 302-304. On trade route tolls and taxes, see Ali 1945: 6, Bailey 1914: 34, 79, Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 149-150, Trotter 1915: 178, and see the buildings marked “Shar Tshug-khang” (locally called Shar Sha-’ug Tshugs-pa) and “Nub Tshug-khang” (locally called Nub Legs-po Mag-mang Tshugs-pa) between mTsho-sna rDzong and rTa-dbang in the Wise Map collection, sheet Add Or 3017 (The British Library), where toll taxes were collected. On the salt monpoly, see Ali 1945: 3-4, Bailey 1914: 34. On the rice monopoly, see Bailey 1914: 34, Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 151, Trotter 1915: 177, and see the building marked “106 ’Bras-grub” at mTsho-sna rDzong in the Wise Map collection, sheet Add Or 3017 (The British Library), which administered the rice monopoly. The 1938 Lightfoot

Notes to pages 33–36

expedition to Tawang reported the administrator of both salt and rice monopolies there as the “Dekangpa”; Governor’s Secretariat 1941: 6, cf. ’bras khang in BGT: 1988, 2. 60 To mention but a few examples: the village of Namshu in Dirang Circle which has an old dGe-lugs-pa temple had to send horses every few years to the Tawang Monastery as an additional tax (oral history data collected at Namshu); each tax household (khral khang) in the village of Dirang Busti was ordered by the Ganden Phodrang to supply an additional annual tax payment in the form of wild animal products (skins of deer, monkey, bear, wild cats, as well as musk pods and bear’s gall) (oral history data collected from Dirang Busti; see also Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 147); individual families and persons in the Mon-yul Corridor were often bonded tax subjects (mi tsa, mi bogs) of monasteries in Tibet, and thus subject to additional obligations (see Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 148-149); the Tsona Dzongpöns imposed cultivation of grain crops and grazing of sheep on the villages of Nyukmadung and Senge Dzong, the produce from which was all sent directly to Tsona, while the villages themselves received virtually nothing for their labour (Ali 1945: 21-22). See the lists of total Tibetan taxes levied upon individual villages in the Tawang region during 1938 in Governor’s Secretariat 1941: 10-13 Appendix no. 1 61 Karma Ura 2011 [1995]: 95-99 and all of chapter 8, cf. also notes on premodern taxation in Dorji Penjore 2009, Ardussi and Karma Ura 2000, Brauen 1994. 62 For Bhutan, see Barth and Wikan 2011. 63 For the Mon-yul Corridor, see Kennedy 1914: 14, Ali 1945: 1-2, 11, 21. 64 Hetényi et al. 2016, Hetényi et al. 2016a, and references cited therein. 65 Use of this term for named, historical social entities remains problematic when supporting data is lacking, and I agree with the assessment by Samuels 2017. I tentatively use ‘clan’ for rus and gdung and their close cognates following the published literature. When it is less certain exactly what a historical social identity refers to, I resort to ‘descent group’. For some local usages, such as tshan and mi tshan, we can demonstrate with both ethnographic and historical data that they fulfill basic definitional requirements for ‘clan’ as understood in contemporary anthropological terms, e.g., Godelier 2011: 558, “Group of individuals who consider themselves to be descended, in the male or the female line, from a common male or female ancestor. In this case we speak of a patriclan or a matriclan. The ancestors can be purely imaginary or not even human. A clan is usually, but not always, exogamous.” 66 Aris 1979, Aris 1986, Ardussi 2004, Ardussi 2007a and Ardussi 2009. 67 See also Sarkar 1980: 35 for a version of this narrative. 68 Concerning the ongoing premodern problem of tribute raiding by external groups into Dirang district and Tibetan indifference towards it, see Trotter 1915: 178-179; Kennedy 1914: 12, 14; Kennedy 1913-1914: 59-60, 62; Bailey 1914: 21, 76, 77; Ali 1945: 1-2, 21; Reid 1942: 283, 288, 301. 69 For the case of the mid-nineteenth century Tibetan military operations against dge slong Shes-rab Grags-pa who failed to deliver posa payments, see MacKenzie 1884: 16-17, Tsepon Wangchuk Deden Shakabpa 2010, II: 591-593, Ali 1946: 5-6, Lamb 1966, II: 300-301, Petech 1973: 170.

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See the useful review of the literature and comparative assessement of the Apatani Murung in Blackburn 2010: 102-128, 390. 71 Among peoples speaking Tani languages, see the Apatani Murung documented in Blackburn 2010, while my own observations of a Rialo festival among the Mra in 2007 confirm it is based upon the same cultural patterns as Murung. 72 On meüsòq-wà see Gros 2012: 372-386, and on the Sara ṅdew/ Rùrùmahaŋ cult see Gaenszle 2007: 268-305. 73 The “ethnic corridor” reference to western Sichuan is often invoked by linguists; see Sun 1983, Sims 2016: 351. 74 For brief accounts of Srid-pa’i lha festivals in the Mon-yul Corridor based upon participant observation see Billorey 1976 and Billorey 1978, Nanda 1982: 112-113, von Fürer-Haimendorf 1980 and 1982: 170-172, and Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 95-98. All comparable accounts for Bhutan were published in a small book titled Wayo Wayo - Voices from the Past (Thimphu, 2004) by the Centre for Bhutan Studies under the direction of Dasho Karma Ura: see Lham Dorji 2004 and Tashi Choden 2004 (and Tashi Choden 2002), who both used participant observation, while Dorji Penjore 2004 (and Dorji Penjore 2008) and Ugyen Pelgen 2004 (cf. Ugyen Pelgen 2002, Ugyen Pelgen 2003 who published the same material three times) both relied upon later informant reconstructions. Of the four festivals described in these publications on Bhutan, the occurrence of only one event is actually dated, being the Ha Bon staged at Gortshom during July 2002 and reported in Tashi Choden 2004. Compare also the participant observer account by Phuntsho Rapten 2004 of the Goshing Chodpa festival in Kheng, a festival which appears based upon a few transformed elements of Srid-pa’i lha worship which was once transferred from Ura in Bumthang, and amalgamated with Buddhist elements and the cult of territorial deities and spirits of the local environment. A participant observer account by Tandin Dorji 2002 of a Lha-’bod festival celebrated in Bjena, central Wangdue Phodrang, demonstrates the event shares a set of affinities with Srid-pa’i lha rites practiced in central and eastern Bhutan. However, its cosmological orientation is terrestrial and focussed upon territorial deities of western Bhutan, while there is no hereditary link between specific descent units and the ceremonial groups or ritual specialists featured in the event. In the Bjena Lha-’bod we might be seeing echoes of an earlier migration by former East Bodish speakers from the east, since the pha jo ritual specialists who stage it do not belong to any Bjena community but all come from Phobjika in the Black Mountains. Brief notes by Pommaret 1994 on festivals staged at Lawa and Tsango in the Dzala speaking Khoma Chu valley, apparently occurring during 1989/90 (dates are not given), were reconstructed from viewing film recorded by a local resident of Kurtöp speaking Kurtö and interviews with the film-maker in Thimphu. This unfortunate method generated erroneous accounts and interpretations of both festivals. Brief notes and photographs depicting a Lhabon festival staged at Taktse and Yuesa in Trongsa Dzongkhag (see http://www.bhutanculturalatlas. org/961/culture/intangible-heritage/religious-festivals-ceremoniesrituals/lha-bon/; accessed 19 December 2015) suggest it may be related to those Lhabon festivals in the upper Mangde Chu which can be properly classified within the cult (see Bemji in appx. A),

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Notes to pages 36–40

although the documentation in this online source is too superficial to allow any comparison. 75 For examples concerning Bhutan, see Pommaret 1994, Pommaret 1996: 52, Myers 1994: 115-116, while Aris 1979: 135 commenting on the aquatic mythical associations related to one of the primary Srid-pa’i lha described, “Gu-se Lang-ling, who should properly be associated with a mountain”. For an example of the same problem from the Mon-yul Corridor, see recently Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 95. 76 Billorey 1978: 21-22. 77 Aris 1979: 126-128, and 313 n. 8 who carefully distinguished the two different – ancestral and sacred mountain – profiles of ’O-de Gungrgyal, one of few scholars to do so; see also Aris 1986: 46-51, Ardussi 2004, and the thematic analysis of a gDung narrative by Hazod 2006. 78 Lham Dorji 2004. 79 Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013 describing Khiksaba is the most comprehensive account until now. 80 Pommaret 2009: 111-125, cf. Pommaret 2014a. 81 Examples of further limitations when applying Pommaret’s proposal to Srid-pa’i lha worship include her points that local community rituals are “always performed in an open space, and not in a temple [...] at a place which is common ground [...] or which has a natural feature considered as a soul (bla) of the deity” (Pommaret 2009: 118). This does not coincide with observations of Srid-pa’i lha worship as “local community rituals”, since not only are important rites often staged directly within the domestic space of the private houses of hereditary ritual sponsors and specialists, but the Srid-pa’i lha themselves also have no fixed terrestrial abodes and leave no permanent traces in any “natural feature” of the local environment. 82 For both facsimile and typeset versions, see Karmay and Nagano 2002: vii-x, 1-33. In his introduction to the text, Karmay hints that the source of the manuscript may have been the Yang-ston family monastery of bSam-gtan bDe-chen-gling in Dolpo. The Yangston claim some ancestral connection with the Ya-ngal who were primordial ritual specialists, on which see ch. 4 below. Karmay also mentions the existence of possibly analogous manuscripts for sel rites at the Potala Palace in Lhasa. Here there may be a connection to the record by the Fifth Dalai Lama in his autobiography, that around the early 1660s “Bonpo Lhadrungchen from E performed the Bon rites for several years, all in the Potala”; Karmay 2014: 446. This E-pa bon po Lha-drung-can was highly likely from the lineage of family chaplains to the lHa rGya-ri court of E-yul (i.e., g.Ye). The family followed rNying-ma-pa Buddhism, but maintained a hereditary ‘bon’-identified lineage of sku gshen priests who officiated at any rite de passage of royal family members. This sku gshen lineage claimed continuous succession from the imperial period, and Hugh Richardson observed it as functioning into the twentieth century; see Karsten 1980: 164. 83 See Dga’ thang. When citing texts in this collection hereafter I give three ordered references: page no. of the dbu can transcription; page no. of the facsimile; folio and line nos. of the cited text. 84 Karmay 2013: 20 stated, “judging by the style of writing, grammatical structure, the type of vocabulary and the notions that are expressed, there is no doubt that the Dga’ thang manuscripts are very old,

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probably pre-eleventh century”, while Karmay 2009: 63 has “I reckon that they go back beyond the eleventh century A.D.” According to van Schaik 2013: 241 n. 22, they “seem to date from the tenth century at the earliest.” 85 I concur with Blezer 2008: 430-431 n. 19. 86 Dotson 2008: 61-63 is the only scholar so far to accurately describe the exact purpose of rnel dri ’dul ba rites. I am aware of the study on the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript and the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs by Bellezza 2013. Bellezza’s interpretations of these texts and his methodology diverge strongly from my own, while the detailed content in his publication is often flawed to the extent that any reference to it invariably requires a considerable volume of additional corrective commentary. I thus ignore Bellezza’s work herein, but suggest interested readers compare the results of my detailed study in ch. 15 and appx. J with those offered in Bellezza 2013. 87 As a category of rite, the spelling byol is related to the CT verb ’byol (also ’ jol, dbyol) “to turn out of the way [...] to shun”, Jäschke 1881: 399, and appears in these old manuscripts with the closely cognate verb zlog. 88 The Old Tibetan references to cataclysms of heaven and earth, skyin dang babs pa las and rma[n] dang sa las, recur throughout these narratives. 89 I am grateful to the owner of the manuscript, Moke Mokotoff (New York), and to Deborah Klimburg-Salter and staff at the Western Himalaya Archive Vienna (Department of Art History, University of Vienna) for access to high-resolution images of the manuscript for my research. Facsimiles were published in Part I of Bellezza 2013: 30-76 and in Klimburg-Salter, Lodja and Ramble 2013: 39-45. 90 Bellezza 2013: 15 n. 22 first reported the Accelerator Mass Spectrometry radiometric dating of a paper sample from the manuscript. This was confirmed to me by the manuscript’s current owner, Moke Mokotoff , pers. comm. March 2016. 91 This two volume, undated manuscript is catalogued as Wadd 1 and Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek Preussischer Kulturbesitz zu Berlin, Berlin; see Schuh 1981: 89-90. The illustrations in Wadd 1 and Wadd 1a can be viewed online: http://digital.staatsbibliothek-berlin.de/wer kansicht/?PPN=PPN3308095343&PHYSID=PHYS_0001 (accessed 14 March 2017). 92 Henk Blezer pers. comm. 11 November 2016, referring to Blezer 2010 and Blezer 2012, cf. also the discussion in Karmay 1998: 169-170 n. 2 for an example. 93 Kværne 1995: 24. 94 On the site of Pus-mo-sgang, see Dondrup Lhagyal et al. 2003: 44-46, 52. 95 Kværne 1995: 47, 71, 141. 96 See information summarised by Martin 1996: entry 101, Smith 1969 and now also Smith 2001: 211-213. 97 On Gru-shul, see Smith 2001: 211-213, and Aris 1979: 87-88. 98 Aris 1979, Aris 1986 and Ardussi 2004, Ardussi 2007a, Ardussi 2009: ‘Introduction’. 99 John Ardussi pers. comm. May 2010, cf. also Ardussi 2007: 6. 100 Versions of the Shar sDe-rang genealogy supplement occur in Rgyal rigs 2: 110-115, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 50a, l. 2-59b, l. 3, Rgyal rigs 3: 55-59 and Rgyal rigs 4: 27a, 3-29a, 5. The extended versions in Rgyal rigs 2 and Mor shing rgyal rigs add accounts of the sKoms and the dGon-pa-ba

Notes to pages 40–47

(i.e., Khyung-mo) who represent minority lineages in Dirang, while the versions in Rgyal rigs 3 and Rgyal rigs 4 lacking this material add an account of the U-dza-rong sPun-gsum lineages. This indicates the two former versions were most likely composed in Dirang and the latter two in south-eastern Bhutan. Internal evidence suggests all versions of the sDe-rang supplement were written later than those Rgyal rigs redactions lacking it. Author Ngag-dbang of the 1688 redaction lacking the supplement first briefly mentions the Jo-bo of Shar sDe-rang and immediately states, “As to the details [about them], since I have not seen or heard the written and oral traditions, they are not included here” (translation in Aris 1986: 43), while his colophon lists Jo-bo A-bzang, king of sDe-rang, as one of his personal patrons who urged him to compose the work. In the redactions containing the Shar sDe-rang supplement, that section discusses the genealogy of A-bzang himself as though it had been written several generations after his time, probably during the mid-eighteenth century, and moreover by parties who did not necessarily favour A-bzang or his descendants. A-bzang’s lineage status is mentioned only as being that of yan rgyal rgyud, while his name and the Khyim-chen-po line descended from him and his brothers is not given a Jo-bo title. The element yan in this lineage description can mean the ‘other’ or ‘alternate’, and in a negative sense it might even be construed as ‘usurper’, while yan gar is found in Classical Tibetan political discourse, e.g., rgyal rigs yan gar ba zig ‘a separate dynasty, a dynasty of its own’; Jäschke 1881: 506. Yan also informs the very lowest ‘outcast’ social ranking termed yanlak [cf. CT yan lag ‘subordinate appendage’] in present-day villages that speak Dirang Tshangla dialect. A-bzang’s line became the mi tshan named Khyim-chen-po or today’s Peichulpa tshan settled in Dirang Busti and its satellites. The otherwise unknown Tibetan name Khyim-chen-po itself is a suspicious construct. It certainly appears a calque from the Tshangla Peichulpa, and was explained as meaning ‘those of the important/ big house’ by my Dirang Tshangla speaking informants (pei or phei = ‘house’, chilu = ‘important/big’ with pa as a nominal particle borrowed from Tibetan), hence the Tibetan form Khyim-chen-po. In the thirty-fifth generation after bTso-ri, the Jo-bo line underwent complex branching at the time of the scions Lo-pa and Ser-lde/sde, with the latter being the origin of the Jo-bo Ser-lde/sde mi rgyud or mi tshan, who exist in Dirang Busti and its satellites today as the Sertipa tshan. As we would expect from this genealogical development, the Sertipa have the high Bapu status ranking with all of its attendant rights and taboos, while the Peichulpa mi tshan descended from A-bzang do not. I understand use of the term mi tshan in the sDe-rang supplement as a further indication of its composition south of the Ze La pass, since that term and its more commonly used oral form tshan are the standard designations there for almost any patriline or patriclan. 101 See Martin 1997: 30-31 for details. 102 On Mkhas pa lde’u and Lde’u jo sras texts, see Martin 1996: entries 54-55 and the citations listed therein. 103 Guntram Hazod pers. comm. July 2016 convinced me with his arguments for a southernmost Tibetan provenance for clusters of defining content within these texts, and also for their authors, who were possibly connected with rTe’u-ra in gNyal. Concerning the

texts, Hazod states, “Im Übrigen ist nicht die Herkunft der Lde’u Autoren so entscheidend, als vielmehr die Herkunft der alten Texte, die sie zitieren, die vielfach verloren sind (wie Khu ston‘s Lo rgyus chen mo) und die sich auf die frühe postdynastische Periode beziehen, wo man begann, mündliche Überlieferungen aufzuzeichnen. Ich habe in Zusammenhang mit meinen Yar lung Studien viel mit dem Lde’u chos byung gearbeitet und viele der entscheidenden Zitate zur frühen Geschichte von Lokha stammen ohne Zweifel aus alten Lokha Bibliotheken, zu denen auch andere entscheidende Autoren Zugang hatten, wie Nyang ral (aktiv in Phyong po/ Yar lung und Gtam shul), oder später ’Gos lo tsa ba (aus Rgyas sman in Upper Phyong po) oder Dpa bo gtsug lag, der sein Mkhas pa‘i dga‘ ston, soviel ich weiß, in Lha lung von Lho brag verfasste. Die Can lnga Textgruppe gehörte ganz offensichtlich zu diesem Bestand der Lokha Bibliotheken, die allerdings allein von Lde’u zitiert wird. Diese Texte haben in ihrer Urheberschaft eine reine Lokha Herkunft [...] Es gibt zahlreiche weitere Beispiele aus der frühen postdynastischen Lokha Geschichte, die einzig im Mkhas pa Lde’u zu finden sind.” 104 On the complex of gSang-ba Bon-lugs, Grags-pa Bon-lugs, bsGrags-pa Bon-lugs and bsGrags-pa’i lugs narrative identities, see Blondeau 1990, Karmay 1994: 408-415, and Sørensen 1994: 522.

2. Flows of Life in the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cosmos 1 Spoken cha or pcha is variable among Kurtöp speakers, thus I retain both forms here. Its orthography in local manuscripts also varies greatly between skya, lca, pya, phya and bya, although it never occurs written as phywa with a wa zur. 2 For examples, see: Pignède 1993 [1966]: entries under ‘soul’ in Index, Strickland 1983: 230-232, and Mumford 1989: 169-175, 183-191 on Gurung/Tamu plah or pla; Holmberg 1989: 154, 168 who uses bla, Steinmann 2001: 185 who gives pla, and Höfer 1994: 134, 136 n. 266 and Höfer 1997: 57 n. 99 who has blạ on the eastern and western Tamang; Dejarlais 1992: entries under ‘bla’ and ‘soul’ in Index on the Yolmowa bla; Gaenszle 2007: 130-137 on the Mewahang Rai lawa, saya, nungwa and same; Michael Oppitz pers. comm. June 2012 reported that northern Magar rites for returning a lost soul can include the shaman seeking the spot in the earth where some demon or other is keeping the soul, digging in the soil there and extracting a worm, and having the patient then consume this worm to return the soul back into the patient’s body; see Graham 1958: 43, Hu Chien-Min 1941: 20-21 on Qiang ‘soul’ notions. 3 Graham 1958: 41 reported the identical theory amongst premodern Qiang. 4 For the parallel expression lawa kheɂ da or ‘soul has left’ in Mewahang Rai, see Gaenszle 2007: 131. 5 van Driem 2007a: 80. 6 For regional examples, see Sutter 2008: 279 on the Ao Naga ‘personal soul’ (tanela) localised in the head, Gaenszle 2007: 132-135 on the saya ‘head-soul’ concept of the Mewahang Rai, Nicoletti 2006: 157 on the ‘soul’ exiting the head in Kulunge Rai rites, and Sagant 1996: 433 on

569

Notes to pages 47–53

7 8 9 10 11

12

13

14

15 16 17

18 19 20 21 22 23 24

25

570

the most important mukuma sam soul at the top of the head for the Limbu. Van Schaik 2013: 242 suggested the useful translation ‘mental principle’ for thugs in such contexts. Pignède 1993 [1966]: 370-372, 379. Tob Tarin Tara 2005: 168, 174. Yang Fuquan 1998. For instance, see Mkhas pa lde’u: 228 on a yellow f lower of gold and a blue f lower of turquoise which are the very first objects in creation, and give rise to the first male and female beings. See also the Naxi Ts’ò mbêr ssáw myth informing the Muân bpò’ festivals of cyclic revitalisation, in which a white f lowering tree is the setting for the first union of a human male and a divine female from the sky; Rock 1948: 75. On flowers and vitality and fertility during rites among Himalayan shamans, see Gros 2012: 381 n. 59, 499 on the Drung, Höfer 1994: 53-55, et passim on the western Tamang, Gaenszle 2007: 269-272, et passim, Hardman 2000: 78-81, 176-177 and Nicoletti 2006: 151-152 n. 52 on Rai groups, and Yang Fuquan 1998: 197-199 on the Naxi. See Karmay 1998: 310-338 and Gerke 2012: 148, 188, 190 on the bla g.yu turquoise among Tibetans. Compare especially the report of a wrapped stone used in a mna’ [b]skyal rite at the time of sacrifice in southern Tibet; Diemberger and Hazod 1997: 268. For examples, see Yang Fuquan 1998: 192, 199-200 and Jackson 1979: 158-160, 193-195 on stones in the Naxi cults of Ssú life gods, Ho stones and related rites, Höfer 1994: 62-63 n. 35 on phola stones used in western Tamang rites, and Blackburn 2008a: 262, 269 fig. 10 for Naga examples. ’Di ring gson gyi lha sgo phye // ’di ring gshin gyi dur sgo chod //; Shawa 1, text 3: 16a, 1-2. See n. 1 above. Since these terms also exist parallel to, but with different meanings from, the word lha in the same languages, and with differentiated lexemes in local manuscripts, they are not merely spoken alternatives for written lha (or Phywa), as has been previously assumed. For the Tawang context Aris 1980: 12 stated “Pla (= lHa)”. Similarly, Pommaret 1994 assumed spoken Kurtöp Cha represented written phywa, although that orthography is not found in any local manuscripts at Kurtö, nor does spoken Cha occur at the Dzala speaking (Khomakha dialect) sites of Lawa and Tsango she actually reported on, rather Pla is used at both places. Bloch 2008: 2057-2058. Gaenszle 2007: 136-137, Hardman 2000: 43. Not all Rai identified groups share these ideas in the same way, see Forbes 1998: 119 n. 15. Sutter 2008: 278-279. Wettstein 2014: 134, cf. 124, 193-194. Rock 1963: 365, and Rock 1952, I: 102 n. 62, 129 n. 108, and cf. my discussion in ch. 17. Gros 2012: 224-225, 380-386. Gaenszle 2007: 53, 131, 133 (on rùrù), 268-305, cf. also Hardman 2000: 43 who glosses the Lohorung Rai concept of saya as both the ‘internal link with the ancestors’ and the ‘vitality principle’. See the discussions in Macdonald 1971: 301, Stein 1972: 227, Tucci 1980: 193, and Samuel 1993: 186-187, 263-264, 268, 436, 438-442.

26 27

For examples in Old Tibetan, see Bialek 2018, 1: 233 n. 5. Cf. Karmay 1998: 179 n. 31 on phywa tshe and phywa g.yang, which he states “are frequently used in rituals”, cf. also the BGT: 1767 on phywa ’gugs g.yang ’gugs. Stein 2010: 147-148 n. 41 admits three definitions of phya (clan name aside) for the older texts: “category of divinity”, “oracle, destiny, lot of fate”, “Artisan, architect”, none of which accounts for the occurrence of phya in many post-eleventh century ritual texts and in the cult itself. 28 Phya zhes bya ba’i mtshan nyid ni / gnam nas sa la byon pa’i don; see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 39 (= f. 10a), 45 (= f. 21b). 29 For example, ‘sky’ is mú pià in the Mianchi dialect of Qiang in Evans 2000: 133, 299, see also Hu Chien-min 1941: 7 on Qiang mo pĭ ‘god of heaven’, and Stein 1972: 211 on Tibetan mu and phya, “Both terms are derived from a word in the Ch’iang language signifying Sky and Sky God (mu-bya, mbya, etc.)”, apparently following Graham 1958: 45-47, 60, while muân (or mûn) ‘heaven/sky’ in Naxi as preserved in the pictographic texts of the dtô-mbà shamans; Rock 1963: 274. On the mee ~ mu connection in Naxi, see Mathieu 2003: 108-110, Mathieu 2011: 75, 78. Similar expressions exist along the extended eastern Himalayas, e.g., mu nat ‘sky spirits’ in Kachin; Leach 1954: 175. Mu means both ‘sky’ and the ‘smoke-hole’ in the ceiling above the hearth through which ancestors in the land of the dead are worshipped in Gurung/Tamu; Strickland 1982: 205. 30 For the Tibetan text, see Karmay 1998: 179 n. 31. 31 Srid ni skal pa’i dang po la / rgyu ni g.yung (g.yung drung) sha ba’i rgyu / brten ni phya dang g.yang gis brten / gyer ni mi gshen bdagis gyer / sngon tsam srid pa yab lha bdal drug phya / do nub rgyud’or (rgyud sbyor) yon+g la / babs ni phya dang g.yang du babs / phya babs mi ngan phya bab bzang / phya bab bzang ba’i khu ye gsung /. Access to this transliteration (plus facsimiles of the original manuscript and a partial draft translation) was afforded thanks to Charles Ramble who kindly allowed viewing of his research website for ritual texts from Nepal (http:// homepage.univie.ac.at/juergen.schoerflinger/bon_dev2/index. php?option=com_phocagallery&view=category&id=9&Itemid=147; accessed 12 December 2014). I have modified Ramble’s draft translation according to my own readings and style preferences. 32 For examples, see Bialek 2018, 2: 191, cf. 171-174. 33 Gerke 2012. 34 Cf. Dejarlais 1992: 139. 35 Mi’i srog ni lha yi tshe /; in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 2 (= 5a). 36 For example, Höfer 1997: 17 on che: ‘life-force’ among western Tamang bombo shamans. 37 Cf. g.yang definitions in Tibetan lexicons, e.g., the BGT: 2613 dpal ‘byor phun sum tshogs pa’i phywa’am / bcud dam / bsod nams /. 38 Karmay and Nagano 2002: x-xi. 39 Kurtöp influenced Tibetan in Shawa 1, text 4: 75a, 1-5: tshe med rnams la tshe legs so // hras med rnams do hras legs so // zas med rnams do zas legs so // gos med rnams do gos legs so // nor med rnams do nor legs so // pha A pa yab to tshe legs so // ma A ma yum do g.yang legs so // gzhon gzhon rnams do bkrag legs so // stag shar rnams do dbang legs so // lcam sring rnams la hras byad legs so //. Note that I read hras as CT byad. 40 The exact translation of bu in these chants is indeed a moot point. The general social attitude today is a preference for sons, and the

Notes to pages 53–60

41

42

43

44 45 46 47

48

49 50 51

myths and rites have been oriented originally towards patrilineal descent. Some informants state bu refers to ‘sons’ while others interpret it as ‘children’. The fact that wives are linked with cows, which are usually tended by men in this area, is because many Khoma Chu valley households practice uxorilocal marriage and daughter inheritance, such that women become property owners and heads of households. Thus, requesting cows for them represents increasing overall wealth for the household as a corporate. Dzala (Khomakha) influenced Tibetan in Bleiting 2, text 1: A pa le tshe zhu rig sho // A ma le bu zhu rig sho // stag shar le dbang zhu rig sho // lcam me le nor zhu rig sho // byis be le skyed zhu rig sho // yul mo le lo thog rong pa nang cig // smon lam ci dgos rnams gsum zhu rig sho’o //. Such smon lam chants are common throughout Srid–pa’i lha worship. See a parallel example from Kheng Wamling recorded in Dorji Penjore 2004: 58. Variations of this aspiration chant are widespread among Srid-pa’i lha worshippers; see an example recorded for Kheng Wamling in Dorji Penjore 2008: 283, cf. also Tandin Dorji 2002: 185-186 for Bjena in central Wangdue Phodrang. See also Ramble 2015: 500 discussing g.yang in relation to animals and humans in a ‘bon’-identified ritual text. Changmadung 4: 3b, 1: nor la de ni g.yang med na // nor yang ri kha’i kha sha ’dra //. Changmadung 4: 11a, 3-4: nor la g.yang med g.yang du yong ba yin. Khae dhogo (written here as khal do go) in Khengkha: 1 khae or 20 x dho go or 9 = 180. The number is hyperbolic in the case of present-day Zangling with its five households, but certainly reflects its earlier social history; residents of the region report Zangling as a major settlement during the past, one which then lost most of its households via migration to the expanding villages of Tazhong and Nyimshong higher up the valley slopes. Recorded from Zangling bon po Tshering Lhamo at Nyimshong on 10 March 2012; transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen with Tshering Lhamo, translated by Toni Huber: lha tshangs pa gdong bzhi zhu yin // zangs gling gung khal do go na // lo phyugs rtag tu legs par byon // char chu dus su ’bab tu byon // zangs gling gung khal do go nang // na pa rlum zi gnang ngo byon // shi ba chud zi gnang ngo byon // dkar kha phye zi gnang ngo byon // zangs gling gung khal do go nang // nor nang g.yang med g.yang gnang byon // […] dgo nang tshe muth tshe gnang byon // kha la dbang med dbang gnang byon // lus las drod med drod gnang byon // lha tshangs pa gdong bzhi byon lo //. The Tibetan is Khengkha influenced (e.g., the zi suffix between successive verbs, the enumeration khal do go, the negative existential verb muth, etc.), and also features Dzongkha terms like gung for ‘household’. For a parallel oral version from the Kheng area, see Dorji Penjore 2008: 282. Mi tshe phyug g.yang zas bcud dang / bkrag dang g.zi mdangs khu ye gsungs /; Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 46 = 24b. Tucci 1980: 193. In written bon shaman manuscripts, we find the orthography tang, gtang and btang. Tang also occurs in words for ‘flat’ things with a delimited surface area, such as keptang ‘flat bread’ or ‘pancake’, litang ‘steps’, etc, with Tibetic thang ‘flat surface’, as in ‘plain’ or in thang ka ‘painted flat cloth’, being a likely cognate.

52 53

Stegs bu’i kha la byon. See Graham 1958: 46 fig. 3 on the Qiang, the plates in Rock and Oppitz 1998 on the stone slabs of the Muân bpò’ altars, Gros 2012: 383 fig. 8.7 on the Drung, Nicoletti 2006: 88-89, 97 photo 10, 15 on the Kulunge Rai. 54 For example, in PT 1136, l. 25, l. 58. 55 IOL Tib J 739: 2v1, ’brang rgyas ni zhal kar in a list of offerings items defined by attribute. 56 Cf. Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 4 (=9a-9b). 57 In colloquial etymologies for ’brang rgyas zhal dkar I collected, dkar is understood as a vegetarian offering and zhal as a conventional honorific signifying the deity, although it specifically means lha’i ’dra sku in ritual contexts. The ritual meaning of, and language used in relation to ’brang rgyas zhal dkar in Srid-pa’i lha worship has clear connections with certain vocabulary and concepts (e.g. smra zhal, sku rten, thugs khang, thugs gur, etc.) found in ‘funeral rites’ (’brang rabs, see Stein 2010: 267) preserved in Old Tibetan documents; see Lalou 1953: 13, 15, 20, Stein 1970, Stein 1972: 227. Such vocabulary items appear to refer to various types of effigies or simulacra of the deceased person whose funeral is being performed, and in which the ‘soul’ or enduring mobile vitality principle is thought to dwell temporarily before being permanently dispatched to a post-mortem state or abode. This aspect of funerals has been widely documented among certain Himalayan societies in which shamans perform death rites, and the interesting aspect of the practice is use of basket-like bamboo and wood structures or frame- and latticework as the basis for the soul effigy. For its use among Gurung/Tamu and Tamang in highland Nepal, see Macdonald 1984: 155-156 n. 48, Mumford 1989: 182, 186, Pignède 1993 [1966]: 370 pp., fig. 33, pl. XXVI 51, Strickland 1982: 230-231, 254-246. In Sikkim an equivalent Lepcha funeral structure is constructed from bamboo mats suspended from a post, and in which the mun shaman sits and calls in the soul of the deceased; Gorer 1984 [1938]: 357-359. 58 For examples, see Stein 1988: 53-54, Dotson 2013: 130, and the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs in Dga’ thang: 39, 141, f. 11, l. 6, and 40, 142 f. 12, l. 5-6. 59 Identical ritual cakes called sorjong (etymology uncertain, perhaps CT zur ‘facet, ‘edge/angle’, Mey/Sherdukpen jong ‘fine’? cf. CT zur gsum) are used in the Sherdukpen festival called Khiksaba which appears closely related to Srid-pa’i lha worship; see Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 50-51 fig. 12, 150. 60 Snellgrove 1967: 52, 88, cf. also the reference in Martin 2001: 63 n. 31. 61 IOL Tib J 739: 2v1. 62 Corlin 1980 gives an interesting historical example from rGyalthang, were the tshangs pa hereditary ritual specialist calls what Corlin terms ‘free’ g.yang into the house during a wedding ceremony, supported by a young boy of the groom’s kin who impersonates the g.yang deities, and the mother of the bride. The latter two performers sing. The boy imitates birdcalls of all the typical ‘shamanic’ go-between species in a rite called gYang Bya sKad or ‘gYang bird talk’ [written gYang in original] to signal g.yang’s arrival from the sky. The bride’s mother sings an account of g.yang flowing down via the smoke-hole in the roof and coming to rest in a g.yang gzhi structure. All the language and symbolism for this phase of the rites parallels what is found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and also in old Tibetan

571

Notes to pages 60–66

63 64 65

66

67

68 69

70 71

72

73

572

language manuscripts from other Himalayan areas. Pignède 1993 [1966]: 403-404 describes Gurung/Tamu notions of two key life powers which parallel the pair of tshe and g.yang in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and which are identified with two different birds, the cha-name long life bird – Pignède’s “soul of old age (long life)” – which is always paired with the pleh-name fortune bird – Pignède’s “soul of good luck”. In rites conducted by lay household members, a pair of model birds made from rice paste or wood, which are installed in the house when a new dwelling is erected, represents these life forces. If the birds depart the house, and their life powers are reduced or gone, a shaman must intervene although the householders themselves play an active role in the rites he performs by chanting calls for the birds to fly back down from the sky. See da Col 2012. See da Col 2012: 78-81. This is an adaptation of the analytical expression ‘progenitor king’ found in earlier scholarship (e.g., Haarh 1969), and more appropriate in the Tibetan linguistic and cultural context to describe btsan po as opposed to rgyal po; see Beckwith 1987: 14-15, n. 10, Dotson 2011: 93. The first series of khri-designated rulers, beginning with gNya’-khri bTsan-po himself, are sky lha descended temporarily to earth, who explicitly take female lha consorts who bear them sons, and these sons in turn descend as the subsequent ruler once their fathers have returned to the sky following a physical death which leaves behind no earthly corpse. This series of generational descents and ascents is interrupted at a certain point when the divine emperor can no longer return up to the sky world, and presumably the royal female partners from then on are all human. In the later, elaborated myths of gNya’-khri bTsan-po, the sky lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal fertilises a myriad of female beings throughout all levels of the cosmos, yet his union with human females is never mentioned. Bcud sa bon rlung dang ’dra ba gcig dbyal stag pa ting rum gyi lhums su zhugs pa las / sras gcig ’khrungs pa ni lha ’od grags kyi bu gung gzigs bya bas rje gnya’ khri btsan po’i lha bon byas; see Mkhas pa lde’u: 236. Rgyal rigs: 32a-b, 36b. In Lawa dialect: Aaye / thong ling a mae tu thong ze wah / thong wae ma tsad ju yang ju zho / khu wa thong khor breng. For the location, see Tongling on map 78 M/2. Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 149-140. Rlangs: 10: lo gsar zla ba bcu gsum la / lha ri gnyan po can du byon / bsangs dang mchod pa gsol ba thob / lha tshangs sras mo ’grub ste yong / lha tshangs sras mo grub pa na / lha yi sras la mi yi rgyud / rigs rgyud khyad du ’phags par yong /. Rlangs: 11: khyed lha yi yul nas byon pa la / nga mi yis bsu ba byas pa yin / da mi yi yul di bzhugs pa la / nged kyi chung ma mdzad dgos gsungs / gnam sman ma’i zhal nas / bdag ’tshal khyim du ’gro dgos na / tshan dang khrus ni bdag la thob . See Beckwith 2009: 1-12 and Beckwith 2011: 223 on the parallels in Central Eurasian origin myths, in which the male figure is a heaven or sky deity/king and the female a “water goddess (typically, the daughter of a water god) or earth goddess.” In Mdzod phug cosmogonies cited by Karmay 1998: 127-128 and Seele 1995: 29-47 as being representative of g.Yung-drung Bon ideas, the original male

74 75 76

77 78

79

80 81

82 83 84

85 86

being is associated with light and space and the original female being with earth and water. Sa bla dang / sa steng / sa ‘og ste gsum. Stein 1988: 40. Also written together as “skyworld” in the literature. For some examples, see the genealogical and ritual relationship of “thigheating chiefs” with sky spirits (mu nat) amongst the Kachin in Leach 1954: 175-176, and the Akha in Kammerer 1998: 668, cf. also Lewis 1969 on the sky and sky deities in Akha cosmology and myths. On the sky world in religious and structural/cosmological explanations in the regional anthropology of headhunting, see Russell n.d. On the sky as the ultimate source of potency among the Ao Naga in discussions of ‘feasts of merit’, see Mills 1926: 112, 257, 288, 380, 381 and Kirsch 1973: 7, 13-14, 18. On the layered-cosmos and ritual importance of sky beings amongst the Lhota Naga, see Mills 1922: 113-115, 119, 172-173. On the sky as the ancestral realm, destination of rok-mi shamans guiding souls of the dead, and site of the sky country among the Mru, see Löffler 2012: 508-509, 656-662. On the sky as the origin place of female ancestors and fertility among the Drung, see Gros 2012: 380-386. On the sky as the ‘Rum country’ (Rum-lyang) of deities and ancestral spirits among the Lepcha, see de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 336-337, 498 (and references cited therein). PT 1038, l. 12 (Spanien and Imaeda 1979, v.2: pl. 312). Stein 1972: 211 said of the construct that, “Sometimes the sky has thirteen storeys. That, it seems, is a specifically Bonpo concept, but the figure is quite commonly used (like three and nine) to indicate a round total.” PT 1134, l. 19 and cf. also l. 22 for the variation gnam rim pa dgu steng na, and the Old Tibetan Chronicle (Dotson 2013: 310, 399) for the variation dgung sngo ni bdun rim gyi. For early examples, see Nyang ral chos ’byung: 157, Lde’u jo sras: 100101, Mkhas pa lde’u, 227-229. For examples, see: Höfer 1994: 77 on the nine ‘storeys of the heavens’ and ‘seven storeys of the underworld’ in Tamang bombo chants; Pignède 1993 [1966]: 390 on the nine level sky in the origin myths of Gurung/Tamu; Strickland 1982: 112 ff. on the ‘moon-nine’ and ‘sun-seven’ in the sky abode in Gurung/Tamu po-ju narratives; Gros 2012: 375-376, 383-385 on the nine level sky and nine level underworld scheme preserved by the nàm-sà shaman among the Drung; and Jackson 1979: 86, 101, 266 and Rock 1972: 200-201, 205-207, 217, 220, 231 on the cosmography in myths and rites of Naxi dtô-mbà (or bpô’-mbò’ which is cognate to Tibetan bon po) with a thirty-three level ‘heaven’ within which the ancestral Dtô-mbà Shí-lô and others invoked to empower the living shamans dwell upon the eighteenth level. Dga’ thang: 13, 101, f. 17, l. 2-4, and 59, 177, f. 47, l. 5. Gu chos rang rnam: 8a, 1. Gu chos rang rnam: 12a, 3-4. On gNam-skas Brag see Dung dkar tshig mdzod: 499, and the illustration on sheet Add Or 3019 of the Wise Map collection in The British Library. Nyang ral chos ’byung: 157-158. The same representation does occur in Tibetan myths, if only obliquely; see Mkhas pa lde’u: 229, on the gsing ma sngo mtha’ upon which the Srid-pa’i lha mched bzhi play dice.

Notes to pages 66–71

87 In Mkhas pa lde’u: 228 Kha-yel is the fourteenth level, and sTeng-mel the fifteenth; cf. also the Zangs ma bzhugs ral can list in Mkhas pa lde’u: 243 correlating deities with names of levels, and in which ’O-de Gung-rgyal dwells atop a level named gNam-yel, Yab-lha brDal-drug atop sTeng-mer and lDe gNya’-khri bTsan-po atop Kha-yel. As noted above, in the Bshad mdzod (Copenhagen ms. edition Haarh 1969: 409), Chu-lo-rigs is the fourteenth level and dGa’ Sa-le is the fifteenth level of the sky (note that the edition Bshad mdzod: f. 75a, 3 = p. 149 appears to read dGa’ Ya-le > yel?). For examples in Srid-pa’i lha rabs, see Lawa 2, text 12: 1b, 3-6 for a chant enticing the A-bu Yum-gsum deities down from the sky world naming fifteenth and sixteenth levels: rim spang bcu gsum yang’i byon mo // mkha’ ni yel bcu drug yang’i byon mo // spyi bo bzang thag bco lnga’i yang’i byon mo //, and a similar one in Lawa 1, text 2: 2a, 2-3 for the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth levels: cho long rims spang bcu drug ’ jal do ’khug kye // spyi bo zang thang bcu bdun ’ jal do ’khug kye // rin po che’i spungs pa’i khri dang bco brgyad ’ jal do ’khug kye //. 88 Gorer 1984 [1938]: ch. 9. 89 See ch. 2 n. 29. 90 Stein 1972: 221-226. Probably the oldest association between the cord and the head occurs in the Old Tibetan Chronicle, in the expression dbu’ ’breng zang yag, which Dotson 2013: 267, 318 n. 6, 364 renders “all-penetrating, translucent head-rope”, an interpretation dependent upon Zeisler 2011: 122-123. This appears to be preserved in the expression spyi bo bzang thag (and variants) found in descriptions of the highest, named levels of the sky world in Srid-pa’i lha rabs; see n. 13 of ch. 16. 91 Rmu ’brang zangs yag la phyag ’ jus in Mkhas pa lde’u: 235 and rmu ’breng zang yag gyis ni phag ’ jus in Lde’u jo sras: 102. 92 For examples, see: Pignède 1993 [1966]: 390 and Strickland 1982: 209-210 on the Gurung/Tamu; Kennedy 1914: 1 on the Aka; Elwin 1958: 265 on Idu Mishmi; Baruah 1977: 11-12 and Elwin 1958: 54, 79-80, 126-127 on the Singhpo; Elwin 1958: 27-28 on the Wancho; Löffler 2012: 508-509, 658, 660 on the Mru; Rock 1948: 79 and Jackson 1979: 160, 222-223, 226 on the Naxi/Moso. Immediately neighbouring groups who do not speak Tibeto-Burman languages have the same myth motif, such as the Austroasiatic speaking Khasi; see Karlsson 2013: 329. Stein 1990 explored the theme of ladders in Asian cosmology and architecture with reference to Tibetan materials. 93 See also Tandin Dorji 2002: 182 for a model ritual ladder used in rites by a pha jo in central Bhutan. 94 Yang Fuquan 1998: 191, 199 pl., 200, and ssú-ndò pictographs in Rock 1963: 420, Rock 1972, II: 94-95. 95 Also ‘Ceremony for the Prolongation of Life’, both translations by Jackson and Pan Anshi 1998: 248, 253, 270 n.51. 96 Tangmachu, 2a, 4-5: nams [read: gnam] rim spangs bcu gsum steng nas ’bab // gser po gser gyi khri nas ’bab // nams [read: gnam] rim spangs bcu gnyis steng nas ’bab // sngon po g.yu’i khri nas ’bab //. 97 Ura, 20b, 6-21a, 1: gnam rim pa bcu gsum gi teng [read: steng] du ni / yee lha khri ’bum dkod [read: bkod] de bzhags / gnam rim pa bcu gcig steng du ni / dgra lha yo byad dkod [read: bkod] de bzhags. 98 Stein 1961: 57-59, Haarh 1969: 264-265. 99 PT 1134: 96-97: sphrind gyi go / bsald / gnam gyi / mthongs phye ste /.

100 Gnam gyi sgo phye sprin gyi go bsal nam mkha’ ’phrul tsam nas gshegs; Lde’u jo sras: 101. The Mkhas pa lde’u version has gnam gyi mthong phye / sprin gyi sgo bsal, where mthongs refers to the smoke hole or ‘sky opening’ in the roof of tent or pre-modern house; Haarh 1969: 411. For other associations of the gnam sgo, see in particular Stein 1990: 155-162, 196-205, and also Stein 1957: 13, Stein 1972: 225, Dollfus 1994. 101 For example, in Apatani verbal ritual journeys which descend to the land of the dead, a series of ‘gates’ (lyego) which open in only one direction connect the paths; Blackburn 2010: 75-76. In the Idu Mishmi Aruma goyo chants for the Brofee secondary funeral ceremony, the ‘soul’ (magra) of the deceased must pass through a stone door (aashi awongko) that is opened to allow access to the route leading into the ‘land of the dead’ (mraga ma) and then closed; recorded from Igu Tadé Mihu and Igu Sipa Melo in December 2007-January 2008 by Gerhard Heller and Toni Huber near Anini, Upper Dibang valley, cf. also Blackburn 2005: 97. The western Gurung funeral chant informs the deceased, “Soul, may the doors of the land of Krõ (the country where the souls of his ancestors are) open in front of you”; Pignède 1993 [1966]: 374. For Old Tibetan references to the numbered ‘levels’ (gral) to which the post-mortem thugs is guided after death in funeral rites, see van Schaik 2013: 242, 244. 102 For example, see the Sara ṅdew chant of the Mewahang Rai in Gaenszle 2007: 273-302, and especially the stages into and through the sky. The same types of door/gate/portal sequence as found in Srid-pa’i lha narratives also occur in the Naxi Muân bpò’ myth of Ts’ò mbêr ssáw and associated rites, where during a journey from earth up to heaven and back the protagonists must open a series of nine doors or gates, including those of silver, gold, pine wood and oak wood, and descending “must keep open the path to heaven from whence flows all desirable things”; Rock 1948: 75-76; Jackson 1979: 216-217, 225; see also my discussion in ch. 17. 103 For a survey of older ethnographic reports, see Harva 1938: 49-57, 545-559. 104 Mkhas pa lde’u: 236. 105 Using the example of the Dri zhim dud sel rite from Shawa 1, text 3: 37a, 6-39a, 1 (see facsimile in appx. M), the bdag shing pha dgu are: stag pa, shug pa, skyer pa, mkhan pa, tsher pa, char [read: cha ra] pa, kur pa, der pa and sbyar pa; the srib shing ma dgu are: glang ma, lcang ma, stag ma, sgron ma, ’phang ma, phur mo, spen ma, smyug ma and spa ma; and the lung shing bu dgu are: ba lu, su lu, ’om bu, tsher bu, mkhan bu, srin bu, kham bu, skyer bu and star bu. While we know that stag pa is ‘birch’, shug pa is ‘juniper’, and so forth, classificatory identifications for many of these names can only be confirmed using ethnobotanical research within the communities maintaining such lists, because the same name can refer to various species at different sites. Clearly, not all are ‘trees’ strictly speaking, since shrub and herb names are included, and the generic term shing can also refer to their ‘wood’ or combustible woody parts. 106 See PT 1136, l. 5-6, where it appears at the end of a rabs together with the expression rgyal du gshegs which is sometimes connected by a genitive to what precedes it. The meaning here is obscure, although rgyal du may refer to a ritual itinerary; see n. 82 of ch. 7 on occurrences of rgya, rgyal, rgyas, brgyas, brgyad with and without nas

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Notes to pages 71–72

or du to express colloquial ‘above’, ‘atop’, ‘on top of ’ (= CT steng du, gong du) preceding verbs of motion in written texts for verbal ritual journeys influenced by East Bodish languages. 107 Dga’ thang: 46, 159, f. 23, l. 10-11. 108 On the Naxi ssô-shwùa rite, see Rock 1963: 410, Rock 1952, I: 227 n. 590, cf. also McKhann 1992: 101, 162 n. 176. See also Rock 1952, II: 542 n. 815, on Naxi referents to highland environments in the ssô-shwùa terminology that equate to CT bdag and srib. 109 Bka’ chems: 80-81. 110 See for example, Dga’ thang: 39, 141, f. 11, l. 8-11 on the lethal attack by the g.Ya’ srin Tshubs-ma and the Gangs srin Phywa-ba at the boundary between the alpine slates and the meadows (g.ya’ le spang mtshams su). 111 For examples, see Mkhas pa lde’u: 377, Sørensen 1994: 147-149 plus notes, Nyang ral chos ’byung: 163, and Hazod 2007: section 4. 112 For example, see Rgyal rigs: 12b, 25b, Rgyal rigs 2: 110-111 for chu rgyud in various settlement narratives; see the division of territories among bon shamans into respective lum or lumpa (CT lung pa) based upon river valleys in the Lha’i gsung rabs (see translation ch. 16, facsimile appx. K). 113 Rgyal rigs: 38a-b; Aris 1986: 52-53. One can compare also the Lepcha narrative about the soul of a demon in the form of small fish in the river; de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 405. 114 The narrative of ’O-de Bed-de Ring-mo is within the tale of Dri-gum bTsan-po; see now the text edition and translation by Dotson 2013: 267-269, 364-366 (l. 20-50). Emperor Dri-gum, descended from the apical ancestor gnam lha ’O-lde sPu-rgyal, is the first of his royal line who is unable to make the post-mortem journey back up to the sky. His corpse is cast into the middle of the gTsang-po river within a copper casket, is carried downstream to the river’s lower reaches at the Tibetan Plateau margins, and finally into the stomach of the aquatic being ’O-de Bed-de Ring-mo, located around rKong-yul Bre-snar. The name of this aquatic being could very meaningfully be read as ‘female (mo) long (ring) gourd (bed < CT ka bed) [for] the ’O divine being ([l]de)’. The gourd is a typical ‘life receptacle’ of the extended eastern Himalayas for containing the enduring mobile vitality principle. It is included within a range of analogous receptacles featuring in myths and rites alongside its equivalents the bamboo tube, various types of baskets woven from cane, bird’s nests, and so on, always made from natural soft-woods and their by-products. The gourd’s symbolic significance as a life or vitality receptacle in relation to water and female figures cannot be underestimated from a regional perspective, and is obviously not some “Tibetan” motif. It is a very widespread motif along the Himalayas into Yunnan and northern Burma, were the creation myths of peoples such as the Bulang, Dai, Kachin, Lisu, Pumi and Yi all have human ancestors emerge after the primordial flood from within a gourd. Mathieu 2003: 58 remarks that “Yunnanese and Southeast Asians worship the gourd as the ‘mother body’, in other words, as the universal womb”; cf. myths and references in Oppitz 2008a: 191-192. For an example within the research region, see the Bugun narrative of the water-fetching female ancestor who emerges from a gourd; Elwin 1958: 103. The physical object gourd or calabash with a long neck created by drying species of Cucurbitaceae

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is a common receptacle in widespread domestic and ritual use throughout the Himalayan highlands of Arunachal Pradesh south of the Tibetan Plateau, where the gTsang-po/Brahmaputra river course eventually flows downstream of rKong-po. Non-Tibetan populations from these same areas downstream of rKong-po who use such items also have a long history of temporary settlement on and use of the Plateau margin and gorge country within rKong-po and immediately adjacent areas. Gourds have a long history as a significant trade item between peoples of the eastern Himalayas and Tibetans of the Plateau, already noted by Chinese histories during the Tibetan imperial era; see Stein 1972: 36-37. There may well be a linguistic relationship between Tibetan bed and ka bed and Middle Chinese baew ‘gourd’; see the entry páo in Baxter-Sagart Old Chinese reconstruction (accessed 10 September 2017). In the ’O-de Bed-de Ring-mo episode, Dri-gum’s corpse is subjected to the ‘water exposure’ disposal method directly into a river course which occurs – rather uniquely – as the favoured non-Buddhist disposal method found throughout the old ‘core’ of the Srid-pa’i lha cult region; see n. 115 below. That the deceased ’O-[l]de being – or implicitly, his ‘soul’ – whose return to the sky became impossible, should end up inside another being named after a life receptacle following a ‘water exposure’ disposal of his corpse is nothing that would surprise anyone in my research region. Nor would the final motif in the tale explaining that he is eventually returned upstream – in this case for his final burial on a mountainside in ancient Tibetan imperial style. This episode within the Dri-gum myth and what it represents has the appearance of being something older and slightly ‘foreign’ which the later imperial cult, here in the form of its well-known earth burial system and mountain, was in the process of superseding, or more likely had already done so earlier, with the myth as a record of that process. The whole Dri-gum myth plays the role of a transitional narrative within the overall imperial mythology, in any case. It marks a point of departure from a more strongly focussed sky and water cult to a pre-eminently terrestrial one in which earth burial and the mountain as cult topos come to the fore. The sky and water focussed cult is what ended up surviving in the eastern Himalayas, where the mountain frequently does not feature or is insignificant compared with sky and water. In addition to my own fieldwork observations on ‘water exposure’ corpse disposal for the whole Dzala and Dakpa speaking arch laying between the Khoma Chu valley and Tawang, and its culturalhistorical extensions south of the Ze La pass into Dirang, I consulted these sources: on Dakpa speaking communities in Mon mTsho-sna, see Chen Liming 1991; on Tawang, see Tsewang Norbu 2008: 84-85, Tashi Lama 1999: 37-40, Barua 1995c: 247, and Kennedy 1914: 14; on the upper Gamri Chu valley, see Sonam Wangmo 1990: 147-148; on the Dirang district, see Dhar 1995: 225, Barua 1995a: 229, Barua 1995b: 240; on Kalaktang, see Dutta 1999: 91, Barua and Ahmad 1995: 234; on the Mon-yul Corridor, see Shastri 1952. The same method of corpse disposal into a river course is also found where known historical migrants from far eastern Bhutan and the upper Mon-yul Corridor regions have spread eastwards; and Datta Choudhury 1995: 199 and Grothmann 2017: 189 on Memba practices at Mechukha, and Chen Liming 1991 on Meto County in Pemakö. For Kheng Wamling,

Notes to pages 73–76

116

117 118

119

Dorji Penjore 2009: 62-63 reports that only corpses of young children are disposed of in rivers, although without dismemberment. Further west, the same disposal method is found among the Lepcha of Sikkim (Gorer 1984 [1938]: 346), and the highland Gurung in western-central Nepal; see Mumford 1989: 182 n. 3. This latter case is of interest since the ritual specialists, myths and narratives of highland Gurung share a great deal in common with what is found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult region. For examples, see Gorer 1984 [1938]: 235-239, Siiger 1967: 93 on Lepcha areas in Sikkim; Dorji Penjore 2009: 37-38, 172 for Kheng in east Bhutan; Aisher 2006: 210-214, 397-399, Aisher 2012: 70, Riddi 2006: 82 and Li Jian Shang et al. 1987: 253 for Bengni, Na (i.e., Nah) and northern Tagin speaking areas of Koloriang, upper Khamla River and upper Subansiri River in Arunachal Pradesh. Our text has gser bya ser po in error here; cf. Shawa 1, text 3: 29a, 1: khrung khrung dkar po’i skad gyis tshangs //. Tsango 9: 19b, 1-20b, 5, with text lacunae supplemented in {} from Shawa 1, text 3: 28a, 1-29a, 6, and readings from Gortshom 1, text Kha: 9b, 4-10b, 4: [19b, 1...]. The manuscript has folios missing, and numbering here represents a manual count of the intact, unnumbered folios: yab ni rgya brag dkar po dang // ma ni gangs kyi gsum tshi gnyis // de gnyis srid cing sprul pa las // srid pa’i sgo nga bzhi ru byung // gser sgong ser po stol ba las // ’byung pa {sa la gnas pa’i bya //} gser bya ser po bya ba byung // rgya dar ser po’i gshog pa can // rin chen byi ru’i rkang pa can // rin chen gser gyi mchu to can // gsung snyan stong stong ’byin pa byung // spyid cig spyid gnyis spyid zla gsum // spyid zla gsum gyi zla ba la // ’byung pa sa la gnas pa’i bya yis // mi dges pa’i lha rnams dag cing tshangs // lco ga chung kyur mo’i skad gyis tshangs // // g.yu sgong sngon po stol ba las // ’byung pa chu la gnas pa’i bya // g.yu bya sngon po bya ba byung // rgya dar sngon po’i gshog pa can // [20a] rin chen zangs kyi rkang pa can // rin chen g.yu’i mchu to can // gsung snyan stong stong ’byin pa byung // dbyar cig dbyar gnyis dbyar zla gsum // dbyar zla gsum gyi zla ba la // ’byung pa chu la gnas pa’i bya yis // mi dges pa’i lha rnams dag cing tshangs // khu byug sngon mo’i skad gyis tshangs // // zangs sgong dmar po stol ba las // ’byung pa me la gnas pa’i bya // {zangs bya sngon po bya ba byung //} rgya dar dmar po’i gshog pa can // {rin chen zangs kyi rkang pa can //} rin chen zangs kyi mchu to can // gsung snyan stong stong ’byin pa byung // ston cig ston gnyis ston zla gsum // ston zla gsum gyi zla ba la // ’byung pa me la gnas pa’i bya yis // mi dges pa’i lha rnams dag cing [20b] tshangs // khrung khrung dkar po’i skad gyis tshangs // // dngul sgong dkar po stol ba las // ’byung pa rlung la gnas pa’i bya // dngul bya dkar po bya ba byung // rgya dar dkar po’i gshog pa can // {rin chen dngul gyi rkang pa can //} rin chen dngul gyi mchu to can // gsung snyan stong stong ’byin pa byung // dgun cig dgun gnyis dgun zla gsum // dgun zla gsum gyi zla ba la // ’byung pa rlung la gnas pa’i bya yis // mi dges pa’i lha rnams dag cing tshangs // ngur bya dkar po’i skad gyis tshangs / dag go tshangso //. See another, different example in the mchod gsol section of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel: 15b-16a (= Karmay and Nagano 2002: 7, 25-26), mentioning the ‘roar of the stag’ (sha pho ngu) in autumn, and that ‘Within the three months of summer, the time that the blue cuckoo calls in the highlands, ldongs se ldongs, and the parrot calls in the valley, zhungs se zhungs, and the thunder dragon roars in the heavens, ’u ru ru, and the seedlings grow up in the fields, thibs se thibs, that is

120 121

122

123 124 125

126 127 128 129

130

the time to petition the lha’ (dbyar zla gsum gyi ra ba la / phu na khu byug sdongs se sdongs / mda’ na ne tso zhungs se zhungs / gong la g.yu ’brug ’u ru ru / zhing la ljang zhag thibs se thibs / de tshe lha gsol dus gcig yin /). Alström 1998. Ngur bya dkar po is somewhat ambiguous. BGT: 653 has ngur pa = bya ngang pa ser po, which could be the ruddy shelduck (Tadorna ferruginea) with the same migration habits, although bar-headed geese do have bright yellow-orange bills and legs while their bodies are light grey above with white heads and under parts. The colouring of these ‘shamanic’ birds is not incidental, but often related to perceptions of their sanctity; for the example of the grouse called lha bya gong mo, see BGT: 372. Changmadung 2: 11a, 5-11b, 4: Nam mkha’ thog su byon tsam na // ’ ja’ dang ’od du ki li li // de nas lha ’byor bar nang [read: snang] kham [read: khams] su ’byon // bar nang [read: snang] khams [11b] su ’byon tsam na // g.yu ’brug sngon mo’i di ri ri // de nas lha byon gang du byon // lha byon gangs dkar rtse la ’byon // gangs dkar rtse nas bsrungs dar dkar mo’i skad cig gsung // de nas ya’i [read: g.ya’i] spang nag mtshams su byon // lha bya gong mo’i skad cig gsung // de nas mi’i yul du ’byon // mi’i bon po rnams kyis ni // gsol lo mchod do len gsum byas // rnga dang gdung dang bsing snyan sgrog //. Karmay and Nagano 2002: 5/21 (= f. 11a). See the Old Tibetan Chronicle in Dotson 2013: 263, 361; and cf. Mkhas pa lde’u: 235-236. Seele 1995: chapter 3, although the motif of dualistic light symbolism (darkness/light, black/white) is only minimally or not at all present in Srid-pa’i lha rabs; cf. Kværne 1987. For a published example, see Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 1 (= f. 1b-2b). On cosmic eggs in such texts, see Seele 1995: 89-111 and Blezer 2000: 130-135. See, for examples, Dga’ thang: 2-4, 86-88, f. 3, l. 6-f. 5, l. 7. One of the Gnag rabs narratives in the dGa’-thang texts depicts the lha gNam-phyi Gung-rgyal creating nine eggs, from which some beings with human bodies and wings are born; see Dga’ thang: 2-4, 86-88, f. 3, l. 6-f. 5, l. 7. Another dGa’-thang narrative in the so-called Sha ru shul ston rabs la sogs pa collection describes a chu blud ‘water ransom’ needed for a boy born with vulture wings on his body, and hands resembling the flippers of an aquatic bird (lus las phar ltas na’ / bya ’dab rgod ’dab ba’ ra ra’ // lag ltas chu bya lag /; see Dga’ thang: 65, 189, f. 10, l. 4-5). The motif is attested in the pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan ransom tale of Ngar-la-skyes searching for the ‘man-bird’ (myi bya) hybrid in the Old Tibetan Chronicle, where the ornithomorphous feature is bird eyes; see now the edition and translation by Dotson 2013: 269, 365-366, “one who has human eyes like bird eyes, who closes them from below” (myi ’I myig bya myIg ltar ’dug pa ’og nas ’gebs pa gchig). The geographical setting is rKong-yul Bre-snar, i.e., rKong-po. The oldest Classical Tibetan redaction of the motif in the eleventh century Bka’ chems ka khol ma features bird’s feet; Bka’ chems: 77, “hands connected with webbing like the king of the birds, the goose” (lag pa bya’i rgyal po ngang ba ltar dra bas ’brel ba). The geographical setting is India since this is a Buddhist redaction.

575

Notes to pages 76–80

Additionally, we also find the appearance of three boys whose bodies are adorned with bird feathers, and who become the apical ancestors of three early Tibetan clans; Mkhas pa lde’u: 237, “three smutcovered (khre khre can?) boys whose bodies are adorned with bird feathers” (byis pa khre khre can lus la bya’i spus brgyan pa gsum). The geographical setting is Mon, meaning in context the northern Mon-yul Corridor region. For Nepal, Hardmann 2000: 84-85 recorded a myth in which the various primordial Rai ‘brother’ tribes are on a journey during which birds substitute for humans as sacrificial beings, and she observed “In Lohorung, Thulung Rai, Mewahang Rai and Dumi Rai mythology human characters are at times represented as birds [with] natural qualities which make it clear they are bird-like.” 131 See McKhann 1992: 91 ff. for the motif in the Ts’ò mbêr ssáw myth that underpins the Muân-bpò’ rites; cf. Rock 1952, II: 676-677, Rock 1935: 67-69. 132 In a northern Magar origin myth from the Ra cycle, the first human child to be born, Kubiram, grows feathers, claws, wings and a beak and transforms into a drongo bird; Oppitz 2017: l. 60-91 of the Kubiram narrative. 133 See the supposition by Stein 1972: 46 on possible Chinese ‘mi-hou’ and “ancient Ch’iang” backgrounds for this term; cf. Stein 1959: 65 n. 185. The form mi’u is not attested in Old Tibetan to my knowledge, and although myi’u occurs very rarely (e.g., in PT 1040, l. 066) its exact meaning in context is unclear. 134 As a name for primordial beings and places in texts, smra ba/ sMra[-ba] might be a generic reference meaning ‘man’ or ‘person’, although in some contexts it clearly occurs as both an ethnonym and a proto-clan name; cf. Stein 1971: 488 n. 26, Stein 2010: 261-262, Dotson 2008: 45 n. 22, Hazod 2009: 170, 178, 180, Blezer 2011, while I agree with Bialek 2015: 218 n. 1 (cf. Bialek 2018, 1: 465-466 n. 4) that the issue still requires deeper investigation. Note the pattern of assigning ‘man/person’ terms as autonyms and ethnonyms is widely attested in ethnographic records of societies speaking TibetoBurman languages. 135 The uncommon usages srid pa’i mi chung and mi nyung occur in Tamdrimgang 2: 4b, 5; 5a, 1; 7b, 5. 136 The oldest occurrence of the primordial Mi’u rigs bzhi I know of is recorded in the possibly eleventh-twelfth centuries Bka’ chems ka khol ma. See Bka’ chems: 56-58 for the ming [mi’u or mi bu?] rus tshan pa bzhi scheme of lDong, sTong, Se and sMu called Mi’u rigs bzhi which is embedded within the Buddhist origin myth in the fourth and fifth chapters; see Sørensen 1994: 639-640 and Martin 1997: 24-25 #4 on the text and its dating. This scheme is repeated in the Bshad mdzod: 89b, l. 6-90a, l. 1 (=179-180) which draws material from the Bka’ chems ka khol ma. 137 Dga’ thang: 64-65, 188-189, f. 9, l. 5-f. 10, l. 6. Myths of the appearance of small (chung) The-brang beings with unusual bodily features, like “fingers and a tongue that are miraculously large” (phyag sor dang lce ngo tshar che ba gcig ’dug pa, cf. also lces gdong gyi dkyil ’khor khebs pa / phyag sor dra ba ’brel ba; see Mkhas pa lde’u: 226) set in sPu-bo’i yul, i.e., Powo may be related, although they do not completely fit the profile since these The-brang are usually potent beings.

576

138

139 140 141 142 143 144

145 146

We do find the second and third motifs combined in northern Magar origin myths; see n. 164 of ch. 15. On the second myth from the Ra cycle in which the first beings moulded by the creators can neither speak nor walk, see Oppitz 2017 Hargameni l. 1-15. McKhann 1992: 84-85 (who transcribed Coq Bber Sa), Rock 1935: 66, Rock 1952, II: 676. McKhann 1992: 93. McKhann 1992: 86 n. 57. Mathieu 2003: 440-441. Rock 1937: 29, 41. Rgyal rigs: 36a-b, cf. Aris 1986: 82 n. 95, and note the rMu-yul and its rMu beings already featuring in a rnel gri rabs from gTam-shul; Dga’ thang: 44, 150, f. 19. Rgyal rigs 2: 111, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 50a, l. 6. In the Naxi Ts’ò mbêr ssáw narrative, the primordial female ancestor is a sky goddess who descends to earth, while Khu’-zá’, the first human being, appears in the world by emerging out of a lake, after which successive human generations descend from him; Rock 1948: 75.

3. Pr i nci pa l Deit i e s of Wor sh i p 1

2 3 4 5

6

See, for example, Dorji Penjore 2004: 53 describing Srid-pa’i lha worship preparations by the bonpo of Kheng Wamling, who “propitiates and makes offerings to local deities (neydag zhidag), and prays [to them] not to obstruct Lha ‘Ode Gongjan’s [i.e., ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s] descent to Wamling.” Beckwith 2011: 227-228, cf. Walter 2009. For example, in the rKong-po inscription, on which see most recently Hill 2013. Stein 1985: 104-107 and the sources cited in his notes, Stein 1973. Grong khyer ’Gon-btsun-phya is where gShen-rab and his brothers reside, while grong khyer Lang-ling is the natal place of their mother; for the Gzer myig manuscript see Francke 1924: 248/308, 258/315. On the phenomenon, see Stein 1988: 47, and cf. now Blezer 2011: 163 and Gurung 2011. For an early example, see Srid-pa’i lHa-rab g.Yung-drung ’Od-gyi rGyal-po as the name for a male protagonist in one of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs narratives; Dga’ thang: 39, 141, f. 11, l. 5, although one can also note occurrence of the name bon po g.Yung-drung rGyal-po in the Nyang ral chos ’byung: 160, which was composed ca. 1170s-1190s in the same area as the dGa’-thang manuscripts were discovered. These name elements should, amongst other indicators, signal some due caution about dating parts of this collection prior to the eleventh to twelfth centuries; cf. Blezer 2008: 431 n. 19. For other relevant sources, see srid pa’i lha rje, srid pa’i lha rabs mched bzhi and srid pa phywa in Mkhas pa lde’u: 227-229; srid pa’i lha gnam then chen po and srid pa phywa in Lde’u jo sras: 100; srid pa’i lha rab bdun tshigs in Grags pa gling grags (Nagchu ms. 20b); srid pa’i phywa’i lha and srid pa’i lha rab[s] then dgu in Bka’ chems: 78-81. Erik Haarh 1969: 212, 252 was the first scholar writing in Western languages to recognise and

Notes to pages 81–85

specifically adopt the untranslated Tibetan term srid pa’i lha from the myths, as did Linnenborn 2004: 242, 253 in his wake. 7 Also written Srid-pa’i lHa-rabs mChed-dgu, or Srid-pa’i lHa-dgu, and abbreviated as lHa-dgu. 8 There are various lists and accounts of these nine mountain deities, see for example Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 208-209, 213, 339, Karmay 1996: 62-73, the srid pa’i lha entry in Dung dkar tshig mdzod: 2070, and the srid pa chags pa’i lha dgu entry in BGT: 2975. See also the comments of Hazod 2006: 166 n. 3 and Walter 2009: 150. In some ‘bon’-identified ritual texts, we also read srid pa’i lha ’dre g.nyan dgu but its precise meaning should not be mistaken: in context it refers to ‘all’ or ‘the many’ (dgu, plural) deities of the phenomenal world; see the glud rabs in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 199, 202 (= f. 315). 9 Tournadre and Karma Rigzin 2015: 52 transcribe the Chocha-ngacha form as she:. 10 Tournadre and Karma Rigzin 2015: 52 used Tibetan script orthography zhal for the Chocha-ngacha spoken form, and Ugyen Pelgen 2004 transcribed a formal spelling of the same form as zhel, but neither cite any indigenous written sources. 11 Gwendolyn Hyslop pers. comm. August 2015 informed me that “For reasons of mechanical physics, the change of k > ch > sh > s is very common cross-linguistically but there is no basis for a change to happen the other way around.” 12 According to available information on the author/compiler of the Rgyal rigs, a Buddhist cleric named Ngag-dbang, he was no doubt a Tsanglha speaker from the Kha-gling area of far east Bhutan in a region completely outside of the distribution zone of the ancestral cult we are dealing with herein. Moreover, the vagueness of transcriptions into Classical Tibetan by non-Tibetans is already well attested in Himalayan regions. 13 This is the most common spelling in our local manuscripts, which consistently follows the form found in Old Tibetan documents (IOL Tib J 740, IOL Tib J 743) and in Mkhas pa lde’u: 229. Spellings with ’od- and –lde elements generally reflect later Classical Tibetan materials, and as Walter 2009: 277 has pointed out, “The switch from ’O to ’Od allows the introduction of photistic elements and provides a popular explanation for his name.” 14 Tibetan A bo is also a respectful term of address for older male relatives. In the Tibetic language Brokpaké of far eastern Bhutan and adjacent Tawang and West Kameng, and in Dirang Tshangla that is influenced by Brokpaké as a contact language due to migration, ‘au’ means ‘elder brother’. East Bodish ego referenced forms for ‘elder brother’ range from aach/achi (Dakpa and Dzala), to ’aci/achi (Kurtöp/Khomakha), and acho/ajo (Bumthap/Kheng). 15 Dga’ thang: 20, 112, f. 28, l. 1 for bdud who are mi dkar rta dkar (cf. also l. 2), and Dga’ thang: 60, 181, f. 2, l. 2-3 for bdud who are myi gnag rta gnag and rmu and btsan who are mi dmar rta dmar. 16 Rlangs: 14: mang ldom stag btsun yid sprul pas mi dkar rta dkar zhig tu sprul nas nam mkha’i mthong la byon pa…/. 17 Bka’ chems: 88. 18 Tsango 4: 11a, 3-4: ’og tu de ni rta dkar zhon // lus la de [ni] phying dkar gon // mgo la de ni zho dkar gon //. 19 While variations of these woven cotton, nettle and raw silk shingkha and kushung tunics are worn by women in eastern Bhutan and the

Mon-yul Corridor (Adams 1984: 10, 92-109, Myers 1994: 106-116, Tsewang Norbu 2008: 35-36, Dutta 1999: 14), they certainly reflect an older, unisex garment style along the eastern Himalayan-Tibetan Plateau interface. Their use as male costumes is not only preserved in Srid-pa’i lha iconography, it can be observed today in some Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals. In Kong-po and adjacent districts, a woven woollen version of this same tunic style is worn as a women’s garment, while a version made from wild goat or other wild animal skins is worn by men; Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002: 37-41. Men speaking Tani languages in adjacent parts of highland Arunachal Pradesh also commonly wear the same tunic in woven wool; see Huber 2012: 101, n. 35. 20 Lha su’i sar here and elsewhere is a local transliteration of spoken Lhasö’i sa, the name of the main festival ground for Srid-pa’i lha worship at Thempang (see ch. 11). It combines Tshangla and Classical Tibetan elements: written su expresses Dirang Tshangla sö[-wen/she], ‘worship’ or ‘propitiation’, while CT sa ‘place’ with the genitive (’i) carries a la don particle (r). 21 Thempang 1: 3a, 1-2 (facsimile in appx. I). 22 Gnam gyi bya dmar gung rgyal ’dir byon cig /; Lhau 2: 100a, 1-2. 23 Rta dkar dmi dkar bya dkar gsum / don ’du gro ’gro kyi thi dmi yi yul ’du ’gro /; in Ney 1: 1a, 2-3. 24 Gnam nas bya bzhin du babs pas bya khri btsan po yang zer ba yin no; in Bka’ chems: 82. 25 Cf. Tashi Choden 2004: 5 reporting on Gortshom. 26 In the gDung origin myths in the Rgyal rigs: 37a-b, ’O-de Gung-rgyal wears the wish-fulfilling gem on the crown of his turban. 27 A staff (mkhar ba) is placed in the hand of gNya’-khri bTsan-po immediately before he descends from the sky by way of the dmu cord; Lde’u jo sras: 101-102. sTag-cha Yal-yol, the Phywa father of the Srid pa’i lha rabs mched bzhi, holds in his hand a golden sceptre (gser gyi ’gying ’khar) in heaven; Mkhas pa lde’u: 229. 28 Cf. the lha gzhi dkar po in the Gzi brjid; Snellgrove 1967:48-49. 29 Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 327. Cf. also Ramble 2009: 216. 30 This deity class is otherwise unknown to me. In local manuscripts, rten bu always feature as the ‘lowland’ (mda’) counterparts of deities in the ‘highlands’ (phu). 31 For rtsa I read ’dzad. 32 Lawa 2, text 13: 1b, 1-2a, 5: lha ’o de gung rgyal bya ba de // sku gsung thugs kyi sprul ba las // lha rigs gsum brgya drug bcu byung // la la [read: las] phu’i phu lha mdzad // bsad dang ser ba srung pa’i lha // ge thung bya bar rtags // la las mda’i rten bu mdzad // rtsa dang mu ge bsrung pa’i lha // rten bu zhal dkar bya bar stags [read: rtags] // la las mkhar gyi rtse lha mdzad // rtse lha mthon po bya bar rtags // la las gru’i yul lha mdzad // khyim lha mang po bya bar rtags // la la [read: las] spyid [read: dpyid] kyi chu kha nyul // chu kha’i bya [2a] khyung bya bar rtags // lha cig ni gser gyi skas la gnas // pho lha rgyang dgu bya bar rtags // lha cig ni g.yu’i dung [read: gdung] la gnas // ma lha bu rdzi bya bar rtags // cig ni ’bangs [read: bang] kyi gong la gnas // nang lha yum phyugs [read: phyug] bya bar rtags // cig ni sgo’i logs [read: log] la gnas // ming yang sgo la [read: lha] rtag yag rtags // lha cig ni thab kyi drung du gnas // ming yang thab lha yu mo rtags // cig ni phyugs kyi bres la gnas // ming yang phyugs lha zho mo rtags //. Cf. parallel presentations in sections of the Mi’u rigs

577

Notes to pages 85–87

bzhi lha sel in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 6-7 (= 14a-14b); 8-9 (= 17b19b), where many of the deity names are the same or similar. 33 The word written be rgyu elsewhere bi rgyu, bi ju, ri ju in this context is most likely derived from CT bye rgyun, referring to the leather lacing holding plates or panels of armour; see LaRocca et al. 2006: 270.  34 Tamdringang 1, 2a, 4-2b, 2: mi’i tshe na phrad pa / nor re g.yang na phrad pa / zas kyi bcud na phrad pa / gos kyi drod na phrad pa / g.yu’i bkrags na khrad pa / mda’i stong na khrad pa / [2b] gzhu’i tshigs na khrad pa / phub se ngang na khrad pa / khrab be rgyu na khrad pa / gas gas tshe ring re na khrad pa / gzhon gzhon dpal skyed na khrad pa /. 35 See PT 1038 (Spanien and Imaeda 1979, v.2: pl. 312), l. 14-15 with translation of Karmay 1994: 410 here, and for the Old Tibetan Chronicle Dotson 2013: 270, 367. 36 Mkhas pa lde’u: 234 and Lde’u jo sras: 101. 37 Shawa 1, text 1: 11a, 1: phyugs rdzi med rnams la rdzi ru byon. 38 Dorji Penjore 2008: 274, Dorji Penjore 2004: 49 n. 2; cf. also Walter 2009: 277 n. 41 on the same ’o to ’od spelling shift in the name of ’O[d]-de Gung-rgyal in later Tibetan Buddhist writings. 39 Dorji Penjore 2008: 274. 40 I thank Karma Tshering for reporting details from the Gongdukha speaking sites during his fieldwork there in July 2014 . 41 For a translation of the relevant verse in IOL Tib J 740: 69-72, see Dotson 2007: 21. 42 IOL Tib J 734: 5r193 for ’o de gung rgyal, with possible variants at 5r187-188 as ’o lha rgyal and ’o de lha dpal gung bas. In this narrative, the context describes an unknown ritual procedure which is perhaps erecting an effigy (nyan du mnyan, nyan du ’dzugs; cf. Dotson 2008: 58 n. 46), and applied to ma bla and po bla, and this latter title is cited just prior to occurrence of the ’O-de Gung-rgyal names. 43 For example, see pl. 292 for the caption on Sha slungs f. Na-1r: ’od de gung rgyal yi thugs kyi sprul pa les /; and Lawa 2, text 13: 1b, 1-2a, 5: lha ’o de gung rgyal bya ba de // sku gsung thugs kyi sprul ba las //. 44 See ch. 15 and n. 153 there for the translation and text. 45 See Shawa 1, text 1: 10b, 6 for a typical example: ‘I am the lha of the people of the world. I come here as the lha of people who have no lha’ (nga ni ’ jig rten mi yi lha / mi lha med rnams kyi lha ru byon). 46 See Rlangs: 5, the passage reads: srid pa lha rabs mched bzhi zhes kyang bya / mo gsum tsha [read: mgon btsun phya] zhes kyang bya / de nas mi rgyud du grol ba ni / sras ’o de gung rgyal /. 47 See Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 208, although I have used ‘patrilineal ancestors’ for pha mtshun rather than his “ancestral deities”. The quote is from a text titled Rje rang ’byung rdo rjes mdzad pa’i gcod kyi tshogs las rin po che’i ’phreng ba ’don bsgrigs bltas chog tu bkod pa gcod kyi lugs sor bzhag bzhugs so, which appears to be – one of many – attributed to Karma-pa III Rang-’byung rDo-rje (1284-1339). 48 The problem of conflation of these two very different yet parallel mythical and ritual identities associated with the single name ’O-de Gung-rgyal has been compounded in recent scholarship which attempts to reconstruct a system of ancient territorial deities for imperial era Tibet. While there are no reasonable grounds to doubt the existence of some form of pre-eleventh century cult based upon mountains, the results of these projects are always “reconstructed entirely a posteriori” as Per Kværne 2000: 17 once reminded us, and the pitfalls of this approach are well known to professional scholars

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of pre-eleventh century Tibet. The tentative reconstruction offered in Karmay 1996, which many scholars now cite or follow without qualification, is artificial as Dotson 2012: 196 rightly pointed out. There are unconvincing aspects in Karmay’s overall approach. Although ultimately unable to link ’O-de Gung-rgyal to an imperial era mountain cult using any contemporary Old Tibetan source, Karmay nevertheless identified or associated ’O-de Gung-rgyal with a range of other deity names in his various writings: with the sku bla lDe-bla Gung-rgyal from PT 1287 (Karmay 1998: 384); with the btsan ’O-la Sha-ba-btsan from the Gnag rabs of dGa’-thang manuscripts, or the lha or sde brgyad deity ’O-la Sha-zan (Karmay writes ’Ol lha Sha zan) in the Mkhas pa lde’u history (Karmay 2009: 71, n. 26); and with the lha Ku-spyi Ser-bzhis (Karmay writes Ku byi ser bzhis) in PT 1038 (Karmay 1998: 396). However, in his identifications Karmay gives no analytical consideration to the very diverse indigenous category identities for all these deities (sku bla, btsan, lha, srin, and perhaps sde brgyad) when connecting their names. Furthermore, any attempt to equate the apparent deity name ’O-la Sha-bzan in IOL Tib J 734 (see l. 8r, 334; Thomas 1957: 76) with the similar name ’O-la Sha-zan in the Mkhas pa lde’u history is problematic. Firstly, in IOL Tib J 734 the name itself sits as an unexplained ‘orphan’ between two complete list sequences (which always end in a glud du bor formula), being those for Yul ’Ol-pu Dag-dang and Yul Dag-yul Shing-nag, and it is unclear to which – if either – it actually relates. Secondly, it has to be explained why this ‘orphaned’ and thus redundant Old Tibetan name in IOL Tib J 734 gets dropped off the lha dgu list in the Mkhas pa lde’u history by the mid-thirteenth century redactor of the myth, only to be recycled instead as one of three alternative epithets of ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the latter text. On the question of ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s earlier possible terrestrial location(s), the available data have never been carefully considered. Firstly, we do not know if there ever was an actual terrestrial site – mountain or otherwise – for this deity predating Classical Tibetan sources from the thirteenth-fourteenth centuries period. The deity’s location in ’Ol-kha from this period onwards has always contradicted the actual evidence found in Old Tibetan sources. Firstly, the name ’O-de Gung-rgyal existed with that orthography – and not ’Ol-de Gung-rgyal – in pre-eleventh century documents, and it was unconnected to any specific territory. Secondly, a very different deity name connected to ’Ol[-kha/-dga’?] does occur: ’Ol srin Den-po bla (on the problems with the ’O-la sha-[b]zan/btsan name, see n. 48 above). Moreover, we do know that Tibetan authors of the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries were certainly confused about even identifying a general location for an ’O-de Gung-rgyal mountain, for which at least three possibilities existed in the sources, namely ’Ol-kha, Nyang-po and rKong-po; see the references in Stein 1961: 83 n. 226, and Karmay 1996: 61 n. 8-9. We also know there was some rather clumsy assimilation of deity names mentioned above at the hands of thirteenth century Buddhist redactors of gNya’-khri bTsan-po mythology (see n. 48 above). Moreover, one might also consider testing alternative hypotheses by employing the historians’ favoured method of matching a significant and stable name element of both deity and place, such as ’O-. Purely as a hypothesis, let us consider the imperial era toponym

Notes to pages 87– 92

50

51 52 53 54 55 56 57

58 59

60 61

62 63

’O-dang. It has several strong features in its favour as a candidate: it is an historical – as opposed to mythical – Old Tibetan ’O- toponym referring to a real place in Yar-’brog; it was certainly a site with real political status during the empire, and listed as a seasonal resort of several btsan po and one of their mothers in the Old Tibetan Annals (see Dotson 2009: 89, 102, 124, Hazod 2009: 214 Map 7.2, 215, 220 Map 7.4, Kazushi Iwao 2011: 250); this same imperial dynasty named its own lha dynastic ancestor ’O-lde sPu-rgyal as recorded on two Old Tibetan pillar inscriptions dateable to the early ninth century, see Richardson 1985: 86, 108. One might reasonably expect ’O-de Gung-rgyal to have once been associated with such a place. For example, a fourteenth century source describing elite activities within the region of ’Ol-kha cites worship of ’O-de Gung-rgyal in relation to military conflict; see Rlangs: 34. A late fifteenth century source claims that the mountain was a meditation site for mendicant Buddhist lamas by the early twelfth- and thirteenth centuries; see Deb sngon: 457-458, 545, 770. For example, Aris 1979: 313 n. 8. Richardson 1985: 86, 108. See PT16 + IOL Tib J 751: 35v2, PT 1286: 28-29, and IOL Tib J 734: 8r322, PT 1285: r27, r188-r189, respectively. Stein 2010: 147. See, for examples, IOL Tib J 734: 8r326 and Dga’ thang 50, 160, f. 31, l. 2. Beckwith 1987: 8, 14. Dotson 2007: 24 gives the form ’O-lde Gung-rgyal when discussing Old Tibetan documents, but his source for this spelling is unknown; cf. ’O-lde Gung-rgyal in Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 39 n. 106 citing a fifteenth century source, and ’O-lde Gung-rgyal in Stein 1961: 83 n. 226 also citing later sources. Tournadre and Karma Rigzin 2015: 82, Jacques 2014: 29-30. ’O thang gi mtsho ’di srin mo’i snying khrag ’dra bar mkhyen, with the translation in Sørensen 1994: 554, and cf. pp. 552-561 on a later redaction of the myth. For the motif in the Dri-gum myth, see n. 114 of ch. 2. Later Tibetan redactors of the story took the ’o- name element to mean ‘milk’ (’o ma), as in ’O-ma’i thang or ‘Lake of milk’, and while the etymology of CT ’o ma is relevant here, there is actually no textual basis in the Bka’ chems for this interpretation. In fact, if anything, the name ’O-thang closely recalls ’O-dang, an important and historically attested resort of certain btsan po rulers of imperial Tibet and their family members; see Dotson 2009: 89, 102, 124, Hazod 2009: 214 Map 7.2, 215, 220 Map 7.4, Kazushi Iwao 2011: 250. I read zhe lna thog here as gzhe snga thog [ma] following Old Tibetan precedents; see Dotson 2013: 336 n. 32. Gortshom 2: 4b, 1-5b, 2, and since the text is known only in this single version, it is transcribed here unedited: bswo snga na srid pa’i dang po la / zhe lna thog kyi dang po la / mtho ru gnam phub srid pa’i ’og / sma ru sa ting grang pa’i ting / thang du ri tsug lcags ris brgyan / gzhung du chab drang skal pa’i gzhung / yul byung sa yang ston / mi chung smra ba yang shar ro // du dang skal pa de tsam na / yul mo grub bzhi ni / ’khar po tse bzhi ni / lcags phur sa la gdab pa ’dra / chu ’o gzhung bzhi ni / nyag thag then pa ’dran / phyi’i yul srid kyang / nang gi mi ma srid / [5a] ’o yi bu gcig ni / bab pa gang du babs / lha’i yul du babs / lha’i bon po skad de / lha bon thod dkar yin / zhal nas lha’i bon gyer lhang se lhang / phyag ma g.yas pa

na / lha’i yas gsog zeng se zengs / phyag ma g.yon pa na / rmu’i rnga chung chems chems / rmu la lha yon ’bul / rmu’i gnod pa ma skyal cig / ’o yi bu gcig ni / babs pa gang du babs / skar ma’i yul du babs / skar ma’i bon po skad de / skar bon shar drug chos pa lags / zhal nas skar ma’i bon gyer la / gsungs drangs lhang se [5b] lhang / phyag ma g.yas pa na / skar ma’i yas gsog zengs se zengs / phyag ma g.yon pa na / skar ma’i rnga rdung chems se chems / skar ma rnams la lha yon ’bul / skar ma’i gnod pa ma skyal cig /. 64 Here, Gu-se Lang-ling/Gurzhe is not to be confused with the separate identity Gu-lang. See gu lang in Jäschke 1881: 69 “n. of a deity, resorted to by mothers for being blessed with children”, cf. Schmidt 1841: 69 “gu lang Names des Maheśwara od. Siwa”. Both must refer to the Unmatta Bhairav of the Paśupatināth temple in Kathmandu Valley. The naked Unmatta Bhairav image displays a large phallus and is worshipped by childless couples or those having difficulty conceiving, and who go there from many different Himalayan regions. The Tibetan gu lang ‘Standing Gu’ describes the Unmatta Bhairav icon (or its phallus) which is a standing (lang) Śiva also known as Gurudeva. The temple name Gu-lang for this site already occurs in late thirteenth century Tibetan histories; see Uebach 1987: 93. In Dzongkha, gu lang can refer to the phallus, and specifically to Śiva’s phallus; rDzong-kha Gong-’phel dbang-’dzin 2005: 159. As a deity name in Tibetan religions, Gu-lang only became applied to the mu stegs pa sub-order of the dregs pa class deities who feature attributes of Bhairava in rNying-ma-pa Buddhist texts; Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 268, 273, 282. 65 Aris 1986: 53 translating Rgyal rigs: 37a. 66 Narrated by Tshewang Dhondup on 8 January 2012 during the Lhamoche festival at Tsango (see ch. 9). Recorded and translated from Khoma dialect of Dzala by Toni Huber and Dorji Gyaltsen. 67 Aris 1979: 134. 68 Aris 1979: 127. 69 See also the forms lang nge ling nge, ldang ma lding, ldang ngi lding ngi, etc. Jäschke 1881: 543 has lang ling ba, lang ma ling “soaring of a bird of prey”, cf. p.204 to to ling ling ‘a swinging motion’, and ldang ma lding/ lang ma ling in BGT: 1450, nam mkha’i dbyings su ’dab chags ldang ma lding du ’phur. 70 For instance, Kurtöp didaling for several dove species, while shengbaling or sambaling is the sparrow. I thank Gwendolyn Hyslop (on Kurtöp cf. Hyslop 2017: 105) and Dorji Penjore (on Khengkha) for their comments about this usage. Note also the langse lingse bird as a sacrificial animal in Gurung/Tamu ritual narratives; Strickland 1982: 212. 71 Rgyal rigs: 38a-b. 72 See Aum-chu Lang-ling in the Khrus rabs from Changmadung 1: 1b, 2. 73 For example, see lang ling in a Gshegs rabs itinerary to denote the swaying movement of the pine tree (cang ma) in the series of trees listed: shog shing ban bon +/ wang bu gar gu +/stag shing khra khre +/ smar shing nag nog +/cang ma lang ling +/; Thridangbi: 6a, 2-3. 74 For example, concerning the birth of the first male and female Phywa from flowers which ‘float’ out of gold and turquoise eggs, see Bleiting 4: 24b, 3-6 (unedited): Gser gong gser po de dang cig // g.yu sngon po de dang gnyis // de gnyis srid cing sprul ba la // gser gong de ni gser po la // gser gyi me tog lang ma’i ling // yab cig srang ’bum khri btsun srid // g.yu’i me tog lang ma’i ling // yum cig mi chu rgyal ba srid //.

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Notes to pages 93–99

75

A working translation of the narrative is found in Stein 1971: 516-519; I also consulted PT 1289. 76 PT 1060, l. 83, 85. 77 Dga’ thang: 46, 153, f. 23, l. 7. In what appears to be a later recycling of the older Lang-ling identities from lHo, the history of Mkhas pa lde’u: 273 gives the separate names lHo rje Glang-pa and lHo rje Gling-pa in its list of the nine Srid-pa. 78 While this represents a formal and literate version of the name found in other types of ritual texts, caution is needed concerning its local origins and signification in Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. In one of the main Tshangs-pa worship areas, the Gongdukha speaking region west of the lower Kuri Chu valley, this deity is called Tshang-pa ‘Dungje’, with this last element identical and understood as the local referent for the mythical apical ancestor of Gongdukha speaking descent groups, the [g]Dung-rje or ‘[g]Dung Lord’. Elsewhere, this name element is written gDong-bzhi, ‘Four Faced’, and is a standard epithet of the lha Tshangs-pa derived from an older Tibetan context. One can only agree here with Bodt 2012: 181, that any claim relating this deity with the ethnonym and origins of the Tshangla speakers is a product of modern myth making. 79 Age for ‘grandfather’ is more common in western Bhutan, while meme is used in Khengkha. 80 Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 145-153. 81 Sørensen, Hazod and Gyalbo 2005: 275-288. See also Hazod 2005 on the Tshangs-pa dKar-po cult. 82 Rlangs: 10-17. 83 On the zhing lha Tshangs-pa in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 10 (= f. 21b). See Mkhas pa lde’u: 231-232 on Tshangs-lha and Tshang-pa, and additional notes in Sørensen, Hazod and Gyalbo 2005: 275, n. 85. 84 Blezer 2000: 131. 85 Steng phyogs tshangs pa’i lag nas tshe dang g.yang khug cig; see Zanglung 2: 6b, 1. 86 Corlin 1980: 88-91; cf. n. 62 of ch. 2. 87 The name kyishutara for the now famous woven cloth of the lower Khoma Chu valley and neighbouring areas derives from the ‘pulling out’ (shu) of fibres from the stems of ‘nettle’ (Dzala kyi) since this was the local material used for the cloth prior to the introduction of silk. 88 On this type of garment, see Myers 1994: 106-116, pls. 5.17, 5.19, 5.20, 5.27, 5.28. 89 Spoken Shutimo could mean ‘Bamboo Woman’; Kurtöp zhuti and Bumthap zhrurti both refers to a type of bamboo plant, van Driem with Dr’âsho Sangye Dorji 2015: 67, cf. Hyslop et al. In Preparation: 183 zhuti ‘plant type’, zhurti ‘bamboo seive’. This is significant in relation to the name Ri-bu-mo ‘Bamboo Woman’ for a female Srid-pa’i lha at Tsango; see ch. 9 and fig. 1. 90 Bumthap tsamet “brother’s daughter or the wife of brother’s son (for a female speaker); sister’s daughter or the wife of sister’s son (for a male speaker)” in van Driem with Dr’âsho Sangye Dorji 2015: 65, cf. Imaeda Yoshiro and Pommaret 1990: 123 and Tableau 4: Bumthangkga (2), and cf. the irregular honorific CT lcam med for ‘wife’. 91 Both rTa-bi and gZham-gling were villages visited in 1488 and 1498 by Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 102b, 1-2, 120a, 4.

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A’u grang byas ’ jug nga’i pha dpun rdo go nag ke // ma spun do go nag ke // in Shawa 1, text 4: 65a, 1-2, which is Classical Tibetan inf luenced by Kurtöp. I read ’ jug nga as a variant of CT ’ jug ngog or ’ jug sgo ‘to begin’, cf. CT ’ jug ‘under the power of ’, ‘manifestation’, ‘cause’, ‘make’ etc.). 93 Hazod 2007, Hazod 2013, cf. also Sørensen 1994: 143 n. 381. 94 Dotson 2013: 264, 315-316 n. 20. 95 For this name complex, cf. g.Yu-btsun Nga-ra in Dga’ thang: 16, 105, f. 21, l. 8 describing recipients of a glud rite. The dra/gra ba/nga ra terminal element recalls both dMu-lcam Gra-ma, the genetrix in the origin myth of the first Tibetan emperor found in the Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 11b; Oslo ms. 26b, Nagchu ms. 20b; Lhasa Tenjur edition 32), and dMu-lcam Dra-ba as the ‘mother’ (yum) in a myth on the origins of sharing wealth between siblings in the context of marriage preserved in a ‘bon’-identified text; see Ming sring dpal bgos dang lha ’dog bcas bzhugs manuscript in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 217 (= f. 418). 96 See the reference to rMa Pho-’bra in Dga’ thang: 24, 117, f. 33, l. 5-7. 97 For the Ma or Mà’ clan pictograph, see Rock 1963: 250, 284, cf. McKhann 1992: 61-62 who has Meiq. On the fourfold protoclan scheme, see Rock 1955: 151 n. 10 and Mathieu 2003: 272 ff. One can compare the patrilineal proto-clan named sMar/rMa/ Mra/rMu/sMu, etc. in the fourfold scheme of Tibetan myth and historiography; see Stein 1961. 98 Graham 1958: 73, 79-80. 99 To those listed for Kurtö in fig. 1, we can add the deity lHa-mo dKar-chung-mo of the rTa-phog Phug-pa site who is worshipped by the Shawa community. 100 See, for example, Gaenszle 2007: 227-228 and Nicoletti 2006: 96, 150 on the Mewahang and Kulunge Rai, respectively, where one of the three hearth stones is female, another male, while a third is a ‘guard’. 101 See thab lha dkar po and thab sman dkar mo in the Byol rabs, in Dga’ thang: 11, 101, f. 17, l. 8. 102 Cf. the deity Yuma, the ‘grandmother’, who is the household goddess among the Limbu; Sagant 1996: 446. 103 Thab pa’i lha mo spun gsum // chu ngan me ngan srung ste bzhugs // chang skyur po ma btang shig //, chant recorded at Nyimshong in Kheng Chikor on 9 November 2014 during rites for a Khaphu festival. 104 See Czaplicka 1914: 44, 274, Jacobson-Tepfer 2015: 324-325, 329340, Shirokogoroff 1935: 128, Simcenko 1978, Vasiljev 1978: 435. In such Siberian societies, fire is either a mother, an old woman or grandmother, or less frequently a young girl, while the premodern Evenki, whose myths include a bear as the culture hero who brings fire into the world, have the notion that it is a woman to whom fire and other things are given when they enter the world. 105 Aris 1979: 128 and others translate A lce as ‘lady’ which obscures its ‘elder sister’ kin term meaning; see Imaeda and Pommaret 1990 for Bumthap azhe/che, cf. Tibetic a che ~ a ce ~ a źe in CDTD (nouns) entry 9327. 106 Some elderly informants identified the range of hills and passes between mTsho-sna and the Nyangshang Chu valley as the abode of A-ma Jo-mo. The map Tibet 1981 prepared by ethnic Tibetans in Lhasa names a 5980 metre peak in that area as Jo-mo.

Notes to pages 99–105

107 On her worship at Merak and Sakteng in far eastern Bhutan, see Sonam Wangmo 1990: 141-144, Ugyen Pelgen 2007, Chand 2004: 36-38, 64, and in Kheng see Dorji Penjore 2004: 51-52. 108 Depending upon how one interprets the name Jumu, distribution of the A-ma Jo-mo cult likely extends further southwards. Jumu is reported to be an important deity of the Dammai/Miji, and significant to Aka also as the ‘sun’ (ju). For Dammai, Jumu is associated with child illness, and said to be of Monpa origins, while in many communities along the Mon-yul Corridor Jumu/Jomo is a female deity who is especially worshipped to benefit young children. In some Mon-yul Corridor communities blood sacrifice is performed to Jumu/Jomo, while there is a parallel tradition of freeing animals as offerings for this deity, and this too is found among the Sherdukpen, for whom Jumu-wang-shing is the deity of the forest; see Elwin 1958: 235-236, 242-244, Sharma 1961: 74. Recent reports on Sherdukpen identify Jumu as a “mountain goddess” and “An important group of local gods and goddesses. Their mountain range can be seen from Rupa above the end of the Dinik valley”, and “Khamsang ame jomo [...] a goddess of the Jumu group”; see Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 92, 95-96, 144-145, and note that their quoted “Khamsang ame jomo” is equivalent to the formal Tibetan Khams-gsum A-ma’i Jo-mo found in the written liturgies used further north to worship A-ma Jo-mo. 109 At most sites where A-ma Jo-mo retains a non-Buddhist character, she requires animal sacrifice. Her worship is often presided over by a ritual specialist termed bonpo, and her functions frequently relate to fertility, birth and life-maintenance; see for example Dorji Penjore 2004: 51-52. Some local forms of Jo-mo include her and her emanations in sibling groupings, as ‘sisters’ or ‘daughters’ who possess both female and male spirit mediums termed jomo (the male oracles dress as women before becoming possessed). A variety of such jomo mediums were documented by Mona Schrempf and myself in far eastern Bhutan in the hills surrounding the junctions of the Drangme Chu, Kholong Chu and Gamri Chu river valleys, and further up the latter valley; see Schrempf 2015a, and cf. also the female ‘Jamepunsum’ group of deities described by Nehru Nanda 1982: 95-96 in an adjacent area. At Hoongla in Tawang, A-ma Jo-mo is fully incorporated within Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals and has her own written liturgy chanted by the bon shaman: see Hoongla 4. At Yewang in Dirang, I recorded a bonpo ritual specialist who worships Srid-pa’i lha employing an elaborate verbal ritual journey, but who also worshipped A-ma Jo-mo in a different context using a very similar itinerary to those typical of Glud rabs chanted elsewhere in Dirang settlements during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Where the dGe-lugs-pa school have been historically present in the region, Jo-mo is usually domesticated as (Jo-mo) Re-ma-ti within the dPal-ldan lHa-mo complex, which has absorbed a variety of other nonBuddhist female deities over time; see Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: ch. 2. 110 The Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel has a similar group of nine lha which it calls the Srid-pa’i lha dgu, including pho lha, mo lha, srog lha, zhang lha, dgra lha, yul lha, mgon pa’i lha, bsten pa’i lha and rigs kyi lha; see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 3 (=7b-8a). 111 See, for example, Samuel 1993: 187-189, Tucci 1980: 187-189, NebeskyWojkowitz 1956: 264, and the recent review of the ‘go ba’i lha terminology and concept and its transformation from Old Tibetan by Dotson 2017.

112 113

114 115

116 117

118

Stein 1972: 222, cf. Namkhai Norbu 1966: 164. For examples of such pho lha traditions from eastern Nepal, see Diemberger 1993: 112-113 and Schicklgruber 1992 on the Khumbo, Steinmann 1987 and Tautscher 2007: 100-101 on the Tamang, and Macdonald 1980: 202-203, Oppitz 1968: 35-36 and Oppitz 1982: 287-288 on the Sherpa, Balikci 2008: 69-79 on the Lhopo and cf. also Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 237 on pho lha Ma-sangs Kyung-’dus in northern Sikkim. On Dolpo further west, see Kind 2002: 279-281. Karmay and Nagano 2002: 3 (=7b), 5 (=10b). Shawa 1, text 3: 31b, 2-3 (facsimile in appx. M). In the imitation ‘Bon’ ritual performed by Mi-la ras-pa in the Gshen sgom ras pa dang mjal ba’i skor narrative, the pho lha retreats up to the sky (pho lha gnam du yar); gTsang-smyon He-ru-ka 1981: 405. Karmay and Nagano 2002: 3 (=7b), 5 (=10b). See Schicklgruber 1992: 725-726 and Diemberger 1997: 297, 324 n. 48 on the Khumbo, and Macdonald 1980: 202-203, Shar-pa’i bla-ma Sangs-rgyas bsTan-’dzin and A.W. Macdonald 1971: 180-181, Oppitz 1968: 35-36 and Oppitz 1982: 287-288 on the Sherpa. Although not identified explicitly as a pho lha, one can usefully compare the origin myth of the bird deity clan ancestor Kle-Nyima of the Kle (Ghale) clan among the western Gurung/Tamu in Mumford 1989: 65, 191-192, and cf. the alternative ‘sky descent’ narrative on p. 42. Diemberger 1997: 315-316, cf. also Diemberger 1993: 97.

4. Pr i mor di a l I n it i ator s 1 Blezer 2008: 423, cf. Stein 1971, Stein 1972 and Kværne 1980. 2 Note Lde’u jo sras: 101 has the forms Sribs-kyi-lha dKar-mong Po-sde and Kar-ma Yo-lde. 3 Gurung 2011: 134-135 has taken Karmay 1994 to task for misreading these names in Mkhas pa lde’u. However, the readings in the parallel passage in Lde’u jo sras: 101-102 support Karmay, and are to be preferred in context on the basis of how they meaningfully relate to other elements in the narrative (e.g., cf. ’tshe mis ’tshe btsugs in Mkhas pa lde’u: 235). Both the mTshe-mi and gCo names occur in early texts with many orthographic variants. 4 See Stein 2010: 270 citing PT 1194 (esp. lines 37-53 for the whole context, where it is a vulture but especially its wings) and the Klu ’bum; he also references than bya, cf. also srin bya and ’ug pa, the owl, in BGT: 1146. Older forms of bird augury reflect the same motif, for example raven divination preserved in Old Tibetan documents, see PT 1045 in the study by Laufer 1914. 5 The Byol rabs narratives feature a series of such flying messengers with ‘bad news’ (than). For the flea, see the main text below, and for the bya blon Phub-shud who is perhaps a hoopoe (cf. BGT: 2470 bya pu shud, and Goldstein 2001: 644 gives pu pu khu shud for hoopoe), see Dga’ thang: 13, 101-102, f. 17, l. 6-f. 18, l. 2. 6 Cf. other rnel dri/gri names which share elements with this one at Dga’ thang: 50, 162, f. 32, 2-3, rnel drI thag bshar ma, 44, 150, f. 20, l. 7 rnel bkrags dgab mar ma (also 44, 148, f. 18, l. 10 and 45, 152, f. 22, l. 7),

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Notes to pages 105–108

and 47, 156, f. 26, l. 8 rnel grI thag shal ma’ (also 48, 158, f. 28, l. 4 and 49, 159, f. 29, l. 4-5). 7 For thang read: than, cf. Stein 2010: 270 citing the Klu ’bum where a girl catches a bird and wants to send it as a messenger of a harmful sort (thang dang phrin bya ba); PT 1194, l. 46: gshin kyi than tang prin du bgyis; Bshad mdzod: 459 = f. 230a, 4 lha la than cig ma btang na; Lawa 2, text 10: 36b, 1-2: lha gsas than ma srings // lha dang gsas la than ma btang //. 8 Speculative for rgam rgu: a following folio lists ‘rgam shing of birch [wood]’ among thirteenfold sets of ritual materials; Dga’ thang: 52, 165, f. 35, l. 9 stag pa’I rgam shing dang bcu re gsum. For rgam rgu cf. also CT dbyu[g] gu ‘small staff, wand, rod, e.g., used as a magic wand”; Jäschke 1881: 390. The ritual action and wording recall the motif of flag-waving for gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s arrival at Phying-ba sTag-rtse in Lde’u jo sras: 102: de nas phying ba stag rtser byon te dar dkar gyi yol ba dgu rim bgyis. 9 For na’ read: gnyer, cf. the same invitation formula for other ritual specialists at Dga’ thang: 49, 159, f. 29, l. 6-7: ngos po brag mar grang gyI ser ’ga nas / A bo ya ngal gnyer /, and 51-52, 165, f. 35, l. 4-5: gdags ri dkar po las / pho gnyen thod dkar gnyer /. 10 Dga’ thang: 49, 160-161, f. 30, l. 8-f. 31, l. 1: yar de lha ma bsangs / mar te grI [read: dri] ma ma btul / myIng dang mtshan btags pa’ / rnel drI bkrags bshar ma / lha ’phangs gnam du ’phangs / ngang yal mtsho ru yal / lha yIs myI ma btsas / bya bang thang la blags / btang ma ci las btang na’ / rgam rgu’I ras las btang / bse mkhar smug po nas / myI gshen lha gshen na’ [read: gnyer] /. 11 For bya bang read: bya wang, see ‘bat’ in Jäschke 1881: 374 cf. 339, Das 1902: 881, and ʼJam-dpal rdo-rje 1971: 249 bya wang = pha wang, cf. the parallel passage at Dga’ thang: 49, 159, f. 29, l. 6, where the bat is mentioned as the ‘[one] like a bird’ (bya dang ’dra), typical of ambiguous Tibetan epithets for the ‘bat’ discussed in the main text below. Elsewhere in a Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs text, other confirmation of bya bang for pha wang as classificatory bird is found: “Once more, in a rnel dri antecedent narrative: In the upper part of the valley dwelt the lord [Ka]-da’ Zha-’bring. In the lower part of the valley dwelt the lady Khyud-khyud Khyud-mo. In the middle of the valley, as for the name of the man [it was] Glan-ngam-len, and as for the name of the bird(s) [they were] Pha-bang Mong-skyes and Yos-bong Ha-racheng...” (yang rnel drI rabs cig la’ / lung gyi ya phu na’i / rje da’ zha ’brIng bzhugs / lung gyI ma mda’ na’ / sman btsun khyud khyud khyud mo bzhugs / lung gyI bar tshIgs na / myI’i mying ni glan ngam len dang / bya’I mying ni pha bang mong skyes dang / yos bong ha ra chung /; Dga’-thang: 42, 146-147, f. 16, l. 10-f. 17, l. 2). 12 Note that data from the west bank of the lower Kuri Chu river area was not obtained. While the actual rabs currently survives in use at only a single site within Mon-yul Corridor, the existence of the messenger bat is known from other cultural materials within Srid-pa’i lha worship communities in the same region. 13 For rji (read also lji) here, Karmay 2009: 81 hypercorrected it to rje and misunderstood the import of the whole name (cf. p. 72). 14 For tshed I read ’tshed and interpret ‘bait’ from ’tshed pa in BGT: 2326 sha dang tshal sogs smin par byed pa, since such ‘ripe’ foodstuffs are used to attract fish to traps and hooks.

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27

28

Than dang phrIn pa ru // rji dang skye ched po la // lha bo lha sras zhal nas // rmra yul thang brgyad nas / smra then ba la // klu rje btsan ba’i ltas ngan cho ma cho rgu dang // yI dags cho ma cho rgu dang // bya ltar gtor gyis blangs ma khad // nya ltar tshed [read: ’tshed] kyis bcus ma khad // gtor dang dpyad bgyi ’tshal // gshen gsum gnam las gshegs su gsol // de skad bgyis pa la // pha mus dpal phrog rol zhal nas // lha bo lha sras kyis bka’ gsal // logs yang mchi’is skad //; Dga’ thang: 27, 121, f. 37, l. 3-7. Karmay 2009: 81 published an edition of the same passage, although I do not accept his following emendations to the original: rje for rji (see n. 13 above); na for nas; pa for ba; bas for ba’i; his inserted khyod; bstsal for gsal; sleb for logs. Gnam rim pa bcu gsum gyi steng na / in Dga’ thang: 13, 101, f. 17, l. 1-2. On the flea as a messenger in Himalayan myth, see Allen 2012: 83-84, 86. Hazod 2014, Ramble 2006. Buli 2: 3b ff. The long narrative occurs at Gzi brjid, 2: 81-120, with the thirteen messenger birds of Bon listed at Gzi brjid, 2: 93-95: khu byug, lco ga, khrung khrung, the ba (probably a variant of ti ba, ‘plover’ or ‘wild pigeon’), khug lta, pha wang, khyim bya, bya wang, lha bya gong mo, dung khra, phu shud, bya ma byel, ne tso. Note, that the bat is also classified as a ‘bird’ in a similar list within the Old Testament, see Leviticus 11.13-19 (Authorised King James Version). Gzi brjid, 2: 120. Kværne 1980. Snellgrove 1967: 64-65, bya bon bcu gsum ’phrin yang bskyol. Gzi brjid, 2: 94, khyod kyang shin tu sgam khyer che ste / skyes gzugs ngan pas khrom du ’gro ba’i bcas med / lar yang kha sgom che yang / pho gzugs ngan nas sus me mthong pa’i skyon yod pas nyan tsam zer ro. For the remainder of the summary from here, see Gzi brjid, 2: 102-104. Gzi brjid, 2: 103, da mgo la bcings pa’i thod cig dang / rgyab nas gon pa’i ber zhig dang / lag na bzung pa’i lcags cig dang / ’og na zhon pa’i rta cig kyang dgos zer ba la /. Bya ma byil bu (elsewhere bya ma byel bu), as a variant of bya ma byi or bya ma byi’u/bye’u; see Jäschke 1881: 373, Schiefner 1859 [1856]: 13-14, BGT: 1864. While bya ma byi can be a synonym for pha wang, here, as in other contexts, it clearly refers to an animal quite distinct from the bat, i.e., the flying squirrel, and the names of both creatures often occur together in lists and narratives naming two distinct flying animals. An illustrated eighteenth century Tibeto-Mongol materia medica clearly distinguishes bya ma byi and pha wang as different creatures; see ʼJam-dpal rdo-rje 1971: 248-249 = ff. 124b-125a. Unlike bats, flying squirrels do not actually fly; they do glide short distances on their patagium, parachute-like membranes running along their flanks between their front and rear limbs. Perhaps due to this feature, they are sometimes also explicitly called lpags byi’u in Tibetan. Note a confusion of this animal with the bat in Snellgrove 1967: 303 and Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu 1994: 476, n. 99. Large flying squirels of the genus Petaurista are found throughout the eastern Himalayas, from Bhutan to the Mishmi Hills, and are thus also coincident with local species of both the Microbats and Megabats. Gzi brjid, 2: 103-104, ’o legs so / ’o legs so / ’o legs so / lha klu mi gsum gyi tshogs pa ru bos.

Notes to pages 109–111

29

30 31 32

33

34

35 36 37

38

39

Richardson 1985: 40, 112, and PT16 and IOL Tib J 751, 38v3; cf. Bialek 2018, 1: 184-185, 192, 204, 475-478 for the Old Tibetan compound sgam dkyel ‘versatility’ derived from *sgam la skyel ba. On the expression sgam po phy[w]a, see Stein 2010: 148 n. 47, Karmay 1998: 179, n. 13. The Old Tibetan name rje Bla-bo Bla-sras appears in a ritual narrative in IOL Tib J 734, l.3r088, 3r100, 4r165. For example, the Tibetan expression sprin pa sgam po refers to a type of premodern Tibetan carpet design featuring clouds (sprin) in the sky with flying bats in combination. Berlin-based Tibetan carpet merchant Thomas Wild pers. comm. 7 November 2017 informed me that carpets of the sprin pa sgam po style are also known among Tibetans as tsi tsi sgam po, yet another rodent-related synonym for bats or flying foxes; see BGT: 2186 byi ba’i rigs shig ste / ‘phur shes la so yang yod pa’i bya min byi min zhig. What relationship these designs have with the Chinese wu fu se yun design on carpets would need to be historically clarified; see n. 38 below. For examples of this motif, see Karmay 1972: 6 and Karmay 1998: 385. The narrative details here (e.g., the costume, the mount, the agreement to go) all recall those of the myth of the smallest of the lha, Ku-byi Mang-ke, when going to try and purify the pollution of Ge-khod; Karmay 1998: 398-399, 407. The best example occurs in PT 1285, as already pointed out by Stein 1972: 237 and Dotson 2013: 151 n. 61. See also the examples and references given in ch. 15 and appx. J. Lévi-Strauss 1963: 226. Blackburn 2008: 226-227, Blackburn n.d., Radin 1972. For example, on both sides of the 100 Srang and 100 Tam Srang banknotes issued by the Ganden Phodrang government from 1939-1959, pairs of flying bats are depicted in the context of an array of good luck symbols, some among which (e.g., the fruiting peach or pomegranate tree) are explicitly Chinese and frequently occur together in combination with the bat; see Bertsch 1997: 36-40, 45, Prokot 1992: 28-29. Similarly, a nineteenth century embroidered thangka of Tsong-kha-pa from eastern Tibet also features the same flying bat symbols, along with other Chinese motifs typical of imperial embroidery from China during the same period; see Pal 1983: P46 on 183-184, and Prokot 1992: 19-20. On bat motifs upon nineteenth and twentieth century Chinese and Tibetan carpets, see n. 32 above. The American missionary Marion Duncan, who was based in the Tibetic speaking area of Bathang from 1921 to 1933 along the south-western margin of the Tibetan Plateau near the ethnic frontier with Naxi, Pumi and Nuosu (Yi), commented that “Bats are not numerous and if they reside in a home it is an auspicious sign”; Duncan 1964: 248. Chinese bat motifs are usually dominated by strongly curved, symmetrical wings that dwarf a smaller body, and the frequent addition of antennae or whiskers to the head – both lacking on real bats – in apparent visual hybridisations with images of either moths or butterflies and rats/mice. They also often occur in pairs or in sets of five (wu fu) around a central symbolic character denoting prosperity or happiness. They thus differ fundamentally from Himalayan graphic representations of bats. Prokot 1992: 19.

40

Thanks to Gerald Schreiber, my former research assistant at the Humboldt University of Berlin, for thoroughly surveying all the published Tibetan folktale literature. 41 The sources for map 4 of narrative locations beyond the distribution range of my own data on the Srid-pa’i lha cult are, from west to east, as follows (the main type of narrative indicated by M = messenger and Tr = trickster): a Dumi Rai Tr version narrated by Chatur Bhakta Rai from Baksila in Khotang District (Nepal) collected and translated on my behalf by Marion Wettstein during 2012; de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 364, 371-372 (Lepcha, Sikkim: Tr); Elwin 1958: 231-232 (Sherdukpen, Kameng: Tr), 348-349 (Sherdukpen, Kameng: Tr); a Bangni/Nyishi “Tr” version from Donigaon near Seppa (Arunachal Pradesh) was collected and translated on my behalf by Rebecca Gnüchtel and Rungni Beyong during 2012; Bora 1995: 5-7 (Nyishi, Lower Subansiri: M); Chutia 2003: 198 (Hill Miri, Subansiri: Tr); Elwin 1958: 55-57 (Tagin, Subansiri: M & Tr), 80-81 (Tagin, Subansiri: M), 254-255 (Tagin, Subansiri: Tr), 390392 (Tagin, Subansiri: Tr); Rondo 2004: 99 (Tagin, Subansiri: M & Tr); Sarkar 1999: 48 (Tagin, Subansiri: Tr); Elwin 1958: 162-163 (Galo, Siang: Tr), 196-197 (Pangi, Siang: M); Dunbar 1915: 64 and 65 (Minyong, Siang: M); a Minyong M & Tr version narrated by Shri Tapang Tamut, Jomo village, Along District of West Siang was collected and translated on my behalf by Kaling Tamut and Rebecca Gnüchtel during 2013; Bhattacharya 1965: 51 (Shimong, Siang: Tr); Stéphane Gros pers. comm. 26 July 2012, cf. Gros 2012: 380 (Drung = Dung/Rawang/Nung: Tr); Giovanni da Col pers. comm. 2 January 2014 on ‘Ganchen’ bat narratives (Tibetan, Deqin and Weixi counties, Yunnan: M); Rock 1936 and Rock 1952, II: 658 (Naxi, Lijiang: M & Tr); McKhann 2012: 278 (Naxi, Lijiang: M); Libu Lakhi, Stuart, Roche 2009: 73 n. 12, 111 n. 74 (Namuyi, Liangshan Yi Autonomous Prefecture, Sichuan: M); Shelton 1925: 17-20 (Khampa, Batang: Tr); Ringu Tulku 1998: 109-112 (Khampa: Tr). Additionally, Ramble 2014: 16 gives notice of a bat narrative in “a corpus of Bonpo ritual texts from Amdo”, although without further information on location and provenance. 42 For a variety of examples, see Elwin 1958: 27, 74, 145, 159-160, 237, 250, 290, Gaenszle 2000: 236-242, Gorer 1984 [1938]: 235-239, Siiger 1967: 93, 216, 225, Graham 1958: 24. 43 On bya ma byi and related terms, see n. 27 above. Exactly this ambiguity between bird and rat/mouse is the focus of an amusing Lepcha folktale from Sikkim concerning the trickster bat; see de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 371-372, cf. the Tibetan dpe narrative under the entry bya khral byi so in BGT: 1855. A basic ambiguity between bats and rats/mice is widely cross-cultural. For examples, see Chinese t’ien shu, literally ‘heaven’s rat’, French chauve-souris or ‘bald mouse’, German Fledermaus or ‘fluttering mouse’ (from the verb flattern, cf. English flitter-mouse, with bat identification as a mouse dating back at least to pre-eleventh century Old High German mūstro). In a native American Cherokee myth on the origins of the bat, a group of birds headed by the eagle and the hawk create both the bat and the flying fox out of two mouse-like creatures to which they add leather wings made from the skin of a drum; McCracken 1993: 1. 44 Jäschke 1881: 455 referring to a Western Tibetan dialect, cf. CDTD (nouns) entry 6906.

583

Notes to pages 113–120

45

46 47

48

49 50

51

52

53

54

584

A parallel image of a Phywa deity being confronted by a bird-like “bad omen” (ltas ngan) occurs in the myth of gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s descent, when he meets the three boys from Mon who are covered with feathers; Mkhas pa lde’u: 237. We can note here that one Tibetan synonym for bat is bya so ma, ‘toothed bird’; Jäschke 1881: 374. Na gi, the pangolin or scaly anteater; Goldstein 2001: 601, BGT: 1493, cf. also Jäschke 1881: 299 “the claws of a sea monster”. The Indian pangolin (Manis crassicaudata) which occurs in south-eastern Bhutan – where I have seen specimens – has claws as long as its forelimbs. This same style of questions by deities to ritually important animals and their answers also occurs in other ‘bon’-identified ritual texts. In the well-studied mdos text entitled Sha ba ru rgyas, a closely similar section is found; see Namkhai Norbu 1995: 179-182, and Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu 1994: 417-420 for the Tibetan text. Speculative for yugs sdig, cf. Das 1902: 244, yugs grib ‘pollution of widowhood’. I read mdzes lugs here as sarcastic, yet it has an even harsher double meaning in spoken form, being homophonous with the word for ‘leprose’ (mdze lugs, mdze = ‘leper’). Tsango 4: 5a, 3-6b, 3, lha pho brgya rnams kyi zhal na re // mo brgya rnams kyi tshig na re // lung pa’i mdos [read: mdo] gsum ma gis [read: ma gir] na // mi chung byi ba’i mgo can khyod // dung gis [read: gi] lug dgu [read: gu] gcig la zhon // sngon chad mthong de ma mnyong de // sa’i ltas ngan gnam la ’ongs te ’dugs // rgam chen pha wang yin nam zer // […5b, 3] srid pa’i lha chen zhal na re // rgam chen pha wang tshur nyon dang // ngam chu [read: rngam mchu] sho re dug pa ci dzugs [read: tsug] yin // sna [read: rna] ba bong bu ’dra ba ci gtsugs [read: tsug] yin // mche ba can zan [read: gcan gzan] ’dra ba ci gtsugs [read: tsug] yin // shog pa dar zab [6a] ’dra ba ci gtsugs [read: tsug] yin // rkang pa ma ’ ji [read: na gi] ’dra ba ci gtsugs [read: tsug] yin // rgam chen pha wang zhal na re // rngam chu [read: mchu] sho re dug pa de // lha dang mi’i ’phrin pa yin // che [read: mche] ba can zan [read: gcan gzan] ’dra ba de // ’dre srin ’byung gsum za ba yin // sna [read: rna] ba bong bu ’dra ba de // lha’i gsung skad nyan pa yin // shog pa dar zab ’dra ba de // gnam sa gnyis kyi ’deb [read: sdeb] sbyor yin // rkang pa ma ’ ji [read: na gi] ’dra ba de // bstan [read: brtan] du lha bro rdung pa yin // nga la ltas ngan ma zer cig // nga la ltas ngan zer ba na // khyed la yugs sdig [6b] yong pa yin // srid pa’i lha chen zhal na re // rgam chen pha wang bya ba khyod // kha’i de ni spyad lugs bsam // sku’i de ni mdzes lugs bsam // sub de ni spas [read: spang] yin nam // khyed rang shil [read: shul] du log nas song //. See the “chimera” description of these talking bats by Ramble 2014, while Thomas Nagel 1974 philosophically addressed such attributions in his well-known essay. Elwin 1958: 348-349, cf. also the Bya khral byi so aphorism (dpe) about the bat, which plays upon the ambiguity of a creature with both wings and teeth; BGT: 1855. See McKhann 2012: 278 and Jackson 1979: 226 on Naxi, Stéphane Gros pers. comm. 26 July 2012 and Gros 2012: 380 on Drung/Rawang, and de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 372 on Lepcha, respectively, cf. a Namuyi version with the domestic theme present in Libu Lakhi, Stuart, Roche 2009: 73 n. 12, 111 n. 74.

55

For example, see tshig gsum shod dbang dang gom gsum spo dbang med pa in Goldstein 2001: 880, and tshig gsum shod long med par lce bregs / gom gsum spo long med par nywa bton / in BGT: 2265. 56 Graham 1945: 64, Graham 1958: 79 n. 41, 81, 89. 57 Rock 1952, I: 280, Rock 1952, II: 437. 58 Rock 1952, II: 658, Rock 1936: 42-44; cf. also the pictographs in Rock 1963: 164, and the study by Fu Maoji 1981. 59 The Gzi brjid already treats the bat as symbolic of one with clever words. With aid from his Bon-po informants, Snellgrove 1967: 86-87 translated mi bas glud bzang lhem se lhem // bya bas ’dab bzang spu ru ru // sgam bas mchid smra sha ra ra // from a glud narrative as, “The ransom must be better than a human being. Feathers must be better than those of real birds. The words must be better than those of the (proverbial) bat.” See the parallel passage concerning the bat and parrot for a glud of the g.Yung-drung Bon deity Me-ri in Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu 1994: 332: mi bas ljags bde pha wang ljags // mi bas smra mkhas ne tso’i skad. 60 This appears to be a reference to the concept of nam mkha’ stong pa phyod gsum, the three primordial dimensions as the ground for existence, occurring in some ‘bon’-identified smrang; cf. Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu 1994: 415. 61 Changmadung 1, 7b, 4-8a, 3, with readings from Changmadung 2: yang cig lha’i zhal na re // rgam chen pha wang tshur gnyon dang // nges lha rnams dang po gang nas ’byung // skye ba de ni gang du skyes // bar du gnas pa gang du gnas // tha ma thim pas gang du thim // ’di skad shes na mkhas pa yin // rgam chen pha wang ye zur gnas // dang po skyes cang mkha’ [8a] la skyes // bar du ’khyam cang khar [read: mkha’] la ’khyam // bar du rnas [read: gnas] cang khar [read: mkha’] la rnas [read: gnas] // tha ma thim cang khar [read: mkha’] la thim // de phyir nam mkha’i nying [read: snying] po yin // de skad tsam cig zhus pa dang//. 62 On ‘salt-stealer’ identities for ‘bat’ in modern Qiang dialects, see Evans 2001: 140 and n. 35, 141, 225, 303, 327, noting the Chinese loans he documents. 63 On the rat-headed figure Khyù’-wùâ-ffú-shì alias Nyî-wùâ-ffú-shì who goes down to the realm of demons in hell to steal fire, see Rock 1963: 198, 363, and on the rat messenger who goes down to the Naga realm in the underworld see Rock 1952, II: 740. 64 Kharpu in the Kheng region usually begins when the moon and the Pleiades constellation (sKar-ma sMin-drug) are seen to coincide in the night sky, which is normally around the sixteenth or seventeenth day of the ninth lunar month. 65 Throughout the Mon-yul Corridor, and in parts of eastern Bhutan, ’ jam pa’i dbyangs (and variants) is a common title used for village astrologers, especially those who deal with deaths and marriages. 66 In many versions of sGam-chen Pha-wang narratives, his abode is identified as the A-su-ra’i Brag-phug described as being in or near Nepal, from where he must first be coaxed out, often by gShen-rab Mi-bo. In the Gzi brjid, 2: 104, a phug thag ring po is associated with the bat. 67 The Khengkha influenced text was recorded on 10 March 2012 from a chant by bon po Rinzin Dorji, Nyimshong village, Kheng, transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen, and translated by Toni Huber: me rabs // lha’i bu mo ’od ldan ma // klu’i bu mo gzi ldan ma // mi’i bu mo mdangs ldan ma // bza’ na bcud med // gyon na drod med // mo dang rtsis btab // rtsis pa

Notes to pages 120–124

68 69 70 71 72

73

74

’phags pa ’ jam pa’i dbyangs // ’di na sgam po pha wang // brag gi bar na ’dug // me ni srin po’i yul du ’dug // lha’i bu mos sgam po sdod sar ’gro // rkang gcig rkang gnyis brag gi rtse nas babs // A dra’i A dra’i yang deg ta co // de nas klu’i bu mos sgam po sdod sar ’gro // rkang gcig rkang gnyis brag gi rtse nas babs // rkang gsum babs la rkang bzhi babs // rkang lnga babs la A dra’i A dra’i yang deg ta co // lha klu gnyis kyi bu mos ’gro ma nus // de nas mi’i bu mos zhu bar ’gro // rkang gcig babs la rkang gnyis thun // rkang gnyis babs la rkang gsum thung // pha dang ma yang dran lags so // rkang bzhi babs la rkang lnga thung // spun dang spun mched dran lags bsam // rkang drug babs la rkang bdun thung // bu dang bu mo dran lags bsam // ’di na sgam po pha wang phyag dbang zhu // sgam po na re khyod ni gang nas yong // nga la me yang med la srin po’i yul du ’dug // sgam po srin yul song na me len shog // da ni srin po’i yul du ’gro // kha’i ga me bzung nas ’gro // rim par srin po’i yul du slebs // tshan ta’i pag shing bu gar yib // de tshe srin po bza’ tshang tham cad khang par ’dzoms // sha dri nya dri gsar pa’i dri tshor nas // zer kyang sgam po yibs pas ma mthong ngo // lcags dang rdo’i me tshag rnams // de yang srin po’i me rang yin // su dang su’i me yang srin pos bzo // de yang sgam pos khyer nas yong // shing dang shing gi me lce ’di // ’di yang srin po’i me rang yin // de yang sgam pos khyer nas yongs // kha’i ga me gtong bzhag nas // sgam pos srin po’i yul las me len no // de nas sgam pos bu mo gsum po la // da ni srin po’i yul nas me ’ongs yod // zer tshe bu mo gsum po ma ’cham pas // me ni nga dgos nga dgos zer ba na // sgam pos lha’i bu mo gtsang spra che // gtsang spra che bas du ba phul // klu’i bu mo zho dag che // zho dag che bas thal ba bying // mi’i bu mo bza’ thabs che // bza’ thabs che bas me byin no //. Gzi brjid, 2: 12-13. Gzi brjid, 2: 68-69 ff. Gzi brjid, 2: 104. Graham 1958: 72 n. 38, Graham 1945: 61. Consider, for example, the three daughters of the goddess P’èr-ndzî-ssâw-mâ’ who meet the messenger bat in the Naxi narrative Bpö p’a gko shu; see Rock 1952, II: 659. The same trope of a miraculous animal actor – a fish who is a manifestation of Gu-se Lang-ling – manipulating the domestic fire and water supply in an empty house and concealing himself occurs in the old gDung origin myths in the Rgyal rigs: 38b; Aris 1986: 54-55. Shawa 1, text 3: 39b, 2-40b, 7 (facsimile in appx. M): A’o ya ngal zhal na re // da rung srid pa’i me ma mchis // bya gcig sgam chen pha wang de // srin gyi yul du me ’tshol phyin // ‘phur ’phur lding lding nas // ri bo mthon po rtse ru sleb // ltas te gzigs tsam na // srin mkhar skya’o mthong // bya gcig sgam chen pha wang de // thabs ni mkhas la sprul pa che // de nas srin gyi yul de sleb // srin pho sha bshor song nas med // srin mo nya bshor song nas med // bu dang bu mo phyugs [40a] ’tshol song // thab kyi me yang bsad nas bzhag // zangs kyi chu yang ’pho nas bzhag // sgo yi ma them ’og tu ni // ’dzul nas sdad de blta tsam na // do nub dus kyi da tsam na // srin po sha bshor khyim na log // srin mo nya bshor khyim na log // bu dang bu mo phyugs tsho log // srin po pho brgya mo brgya’i zhal na re // nga’i khyim du su ‘byung ngam // thab kyi me yang bsad nas med // zangs kyi chu yang ’pho nas med // lha yi [read: yis] me ’tshol ’byung ngam zer // klu yi [read: yis] me ’tshol ’byung ngam zer // thab kyi ’og nas me chas blang // me ni yod med me gtong te // ngar chen lcags [40b] dang dkar gong gnyis // ngar me btsa’ dang sre mo gnyis // de bzhi thun du sbyor nas ni // me stag skar ma tsam cig rgyang se rgyang // du ba g.yu lo tsam cig thu lu lu // da rung thab kyi ’og tu bzhag // me yi pha ni lha rdo dkar po yin // me yi ma ni lcags rdo nag po yin

// bu ni bu spun bzhi ru ’byung // gnam la skar ma smin drug ’byung // bar du nyi zla zung cig ’byung // sa la me tog sna tshogs ’byung // yes ’od du ’bar ba’i me // dri zhim bsung dang ldan pa’i me // ma rig mun pa sel ba’i me // nyon mongs tham cad bsreg pa’i me // sha mar chang gsum ’dzom pa’i me // shing sna dgu yang de la bsreg // spos sna dgu yang de la bsreg //. 75 Gzi brjid, 2: 110. 76 Gorer 1984 [1938]: 460-462. 77 Buli 1: 4b, 5 ff. 78 Although ang gi can be read as an exclamation in Tibetan, in context within local manuscripts it can only be understood as part of the proper name. While ang as a word for ‘bat’ is explained by ritual specialists, it is more or less extinct now in spoken conversation. The form ung was reported to me unelicited as a ‘bat’ name by several Dakpa speakers in the Tawang region, where the same word also occurs in local Srid-pa’i lha manuscripts. For example, see Lhau 1: 9-10 and Hoongla 5: 3b, 7 on the bya cig Ung bya dkar mo. Perhaps ang/ ung is related to the wang element in CT pha wang? Cf. also Rong/ Lepcha bryan ‘bat’ (Mainwaring 1898: 272, 464), and Sartang Kho-Bwa ampòó (Blench 2011). 79 For images of the white-bodied messenger bat on Naxi painted scrolls, see Mathieu and Ho 2011: 147 pl. 13 (see left of altar), 153 pl. 16 ( see bottom left), 159 pl. 19 (see immediately right of lotus pedestal), 161 pl. 20 (see lower left); Rock 1972: pl. XXXII (see lower centre, below altar), pl. XLI (see bottom right), pl. XLVII (see bottom right); He Wanbao and Yunnan sheng shehui kexueyuan Lijiang Dongba wenhua yanjiusuo 1992: 142 left pl. (see lower right). 80 See Rock 1937: 28, 31 on the white horse, Rock 1963: white crane go-between 101, 130-131, white female garuda 193, winged white sheep and horse 171, 221, 506. 81 Stein 1990: 307 n. 211, cf. Prokot 1992: 18, 24, 38. 82 See Ura: 6b, 2-7b, 1. The Ura and Tang traditions also preserve one of the longest and most elaborated versions of the Lha zhu rabs narrative of the trickster bat inviting the Srid-pa’i lha down from the sky world. However, in those versions sGam-chen Pha-wang plays virtually no role in the storyline. Instead, sGam-gtsug Pha-wang, the son of sGam-chen and a trickster in his own right, is appointed as messenger between the lha and human beings under the close guidance of the bon ritual specialist gShen-rab Mi-bo. 83 A version with this same plot is used in the Dakpanang region of the upper Mon-yul Corridor; Hoongla 7: 9b, 9-12a, 9. It also occurs in a variation of the Me rabs reported in the Sherdukpen area of the lower Mon-yul Corridor; see Elwin 1958: 231-232. 84 de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 347-348, 350. 85 Allen 2012: 34-36. 86 Strickland 1982: 211. 87 On spider go-betweens in the research region, see Tandin Dorji 2004 and Schrempf 2015. 88 Oppitz 1983: esp. 209, 210, 212, 221. 89 Gorer 1984 [1938]: 461. 90 Gaenszle 2000: 119. 91 Tob Tarin Tara 2005: 91, 96, 116. 92 For the Qiang, see Hu Chien-min 1941: 20 cf. Swancutt 2012 on the Nuosu, and for the reseach region see Schrempf 2015 and Tandin Dorji 2004.

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Notes to pages 124–132

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94

95 96

97

98 99

100

101

102 103 104 105 106 107

586

An example is the case of the gsas which is a bee in a mundane protection rite; see the Sri gsas bung ba stag chung bzhugs manuscript in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 185-197, cf. Karmay 2013a. An example is the bee in service of “Heaven” in a Moso narrative explaining the origins of corpse disposal practice; Mathieu 2003: 373-374. No doubt drawing upon the common name rGya-lha ’Brong-nam found in many versions of the narrative. For the Srid-pa’i lha cult festival known as Kharpu in nearby Tsamang village, Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 139 reported that “ba dab stu” is a general term for various “obscene” remarks which are exchanged on the day Guruzhe descends. “Mong” is cognate with CT rmong spu ‘pubic hair’, and related to the same meaning in regional languages. During my research I found the common ritual expression “Wayo Wayo” was either given a distinct meaning related to sexual intercourse, as in the local interpretation of this narrative from Saleng, or defined in general terms as the “language of the deities”; see also comments in Tashi Choden 2004: 16-19. Narrated as a prose text by bon po Tshewang Rigzin on 27.03.2012 at Lingmatang (Saleng Gewog, Mongar Dzongkhag), and recorded and translated from Chocha-ngacha by Toni Huber and Dorji Gyaltsen. Reported by an informant outside of the actual festival context in Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 133-134. We know that the Tsamang manuscript was removed and taken south to Daksa. Karma Tshering’s (pers. comm. August 2014) informants in the Daksa area reported that their existing Kharpu manuscript is believed to have been taken from Tsamang by one Tsamang Tokar Penchen whose wife was from Daksa. Huber 2015b. The Buddhist versions of kengpa rite are frequently associated with stories in which nakedness and banishment of negative forces are closely associated: see rDo-rje rGyal-mtshan 2011: 45-49; Khaling Karma 2006: 7-8. Karmay 1972: 88/257, 352, and the discussion of le’u practitioners by sNgon-’dzin Ngag-dbang rGya-mtsho 2006 and the translation of this work by Charles Ramble in Ngodzin Ngawang Gyatso 2016, also comments by Ramble 2014: 15 n. 3, 16 n. 4. Berounský 2017: 225-226, 232, 235, 241, Berounský 2016: 539-540, 543-544. The account here is taken from the text and translation given by Ramble 2014: 15-20, 29-31. de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 402 reports a Lepcha narrative in which two witch sisters fashion wings from their dress-folds to fly away on. Oppitz 2007b: 93 images a-p. Rock 1955: 144 n. 21. For examples, see Vinding 1998: 309 on the use of a short bird-headed ritual staff called rara by the Thakali aya lama and dhom priests and a similar artefact among the Gurung, Oppitz 2013, I: 203, Abb. 289 for the short bird-headed staff of the Gurung/Tamu pajyu (also po-cu, pucu) shaman, and Höfer 1994: 61 fig. 3, 62 on the carved wooden ritual daggers featuring the horse of the western Tamang bombo. There may indeed be possible links between ritual staffs, ritual daggers and the carved wooden handle of the Himalayan shaman’s drum; see Oppitz 2013, I: 370-372. The horse-head ritual staff with the same value is more typical of Altaic shamans of north Asia; see Harva 1938: 490 Abb. 65, Changalov 1958/60: 365-370.

108 Snellgrove 1967: 44-49. 109 For occurrences of Ya-ngal in Dga’ thang: 33, 131, f. 1, l. 6; 34-35, 133, f. 3, l. 10-11 and f. 4, l. 4-5; 37, 138, f. 8, l. 1 for pha Ya-ngal Gyim-kyong/ Ya-ngal/Yang-ngal/pha Ya-ngal Khyim-gong in the rma them pa rite series; also 46, 154, f. 23, l. 10 for Ya-ngal Gyim-kong in the lHo-ga Lang-grug story; also 49, 159, f. 29, l. 7-11 for A bo Ya-ngal in the sKyi-ro story; also 51, 163, f. 33, 1.8 for pha Ya-ngal Gyim-kyong in the dBye-mo story; also 52, 166, f. 36, l. 7 pha Ya-ngal Gyim-khong in the Glan story. 110 In an earlier publication (Huber 2013: 269), I had read this verb bgyer as dgyer ‘to chant’. However, it is more likely bsgyer (cf. ’gyer and sgyer) ‘to lay [something] down’, namely, a ritual obstruction, found elsewhere in rnel dri rabs to describe a rite technique of Ya-ngal combined with purification. See other examples in ch. 15. 111 Dga’ thang: 49, 159, f. 29, l. 7-11: A bo ya ngal gnyer / nyin gsum bsangs / mtshan gsum bgyer / nang gsum bshal du bshal / yar te lha bsangs / mar te drI gdul ’tshal lo / lha’I gshegs shul phye / rje’i snang gsal sgron / rnel drI gdul ’tshal lo /. 112 See the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs in Dga’ thang: 35, 134, f. 4, l. 4-6 for Ya-ngal rites termed bnol bsangs and ro bsangs. 113 See Dga’ thang: 46, 159, f. 23, l. 10-11, and PT 1136, 5-6, and comments on the phrase by Blezer 2008: 430 n. 19. 114 See, for example, Dga’ thang: 42, 146, f. 16, l. 8: chu sna mang po nas bkrus / tshan sna mang po nas btab /. 115 PT 1194, l. 49-50: gshog la god kad bya rjungs btags na / gnam mthongs [’gyed?] [---] sprin gyi go seld to /. I read the ’gyed of the OTDO editors as phye based upon the wording mdab ma’i / gshog tog du / blangste / sphrind gyi go / bsald / gnam gyi / mthongs phye of a parallel passage in PT 1134: 96-97, while the divination texts have gnam mthongs bye in PT 1047: 37: gnam gi ni mthongs phye in IOL Tib J 739: 10v5 (also 11v10), and gnam gyI mthongs bye sprin gyI go bsal / in IOL Tib J 740: 27. Preceding this line in PT 1194, the text successively indicates the gshog is a vulture’s wings, e.g., l. 37 bya rgod, l. 40 rgod thang, l. 41 rgod gshog, etc., cf. also Stein 2010: 266 on gshog pa. The same rite technique is used by a gshen to open the sky for a purification rite during a rnel dri ’dul ba rite; see Dga’ thang: 50, 162, f. 32, l. 4-5. 116 Mkhas pa lde’u: 235, gnam gyi mthong phye / sprin gyi sgo bsal, where mthongs conventionally refers to the smoke hole or ‘sky opening’ in the roof of a tent or pre-modern house; cf. Lde’u jo sras: 101. 117 Jäschke 1881: 577 for dialects of western Tibet. 118 BGT: 3050 nyen kha yod pa’i lam la srung skyel byas pa /. 119 Bshad mdzod: 460 = f. 230b. 120 Joanna Bialek pers. comm. November 2016 suggested yab ngal as it occurs in IOL Tib J 732: 15-16, 30 for yab ngal lDe-thol-phrom (or: lDe’i-thol-phrom). 121 See especially the Gyim name references and discussion in Richardson 1998: 28-31, and Richardson 1985: 62-63, and see also PT 1286, PT 1287, PT 1288 and the rock inscription at Zhwa’i lha-khang. This Gyim is not to be confused with certain Tibetan renderings of the Jin and Kim elements in Chinese names found in some older documents. The Gyim element also occurs in a number of names recorded in g.Yung-drung Bon sources, such as the river name Gyim-shang Nag-po in ’Ol-mo Lung-ring in chapter seven of the Gzer myig; see Francke 1930: 299, 301, Francke 1949-1950: 164. Like so many

Notes to pages 132–135

elements in the names of deities and persons occurring in the older manuscripts, Gyim here represents yet another g.Yung-drung Bon recycling of personal names or social identities into place names, on which see Stein 1988: 47, and cf. now Blezer 2011: 163 and Gurung 2011. 122 See the new edition and translation in Dotson 2013: 261, 360. 123 Thomas 1957: 16-19, 28-32, the index entries at p. 194 for IOL Tib J 731 and IOL Tib J 732; cf. also Aris 1979: 135-137. The bird flight motif occurs again in the Ya ngal gdung rabs, as noted by Pasang Wangdu and Diemberger 2000: 95, n. 372. 124 This same literary device occurs in the eighth chapter of the Gzer mig, in the episode when gShen-rab Mi-bo etymologises, syllable by syllable, his own name and those of his son, wife, parents and one of his escorts; see Gzer myig in Francke 1949-1950: 173-174, 182-183; cf. the Gzer mig: 182-184, 186-187. 125 On yugs pa < byugs pa see Das 1902: 1138 ‘to anoint’. In Huber 2013: 273 I had read it as yug gcog. 126 See n. 124 above. 127 This refers to an origin myth in which the gto rites had been redacted in Tibet by one Kong-tse ’Phrul-rgyal at the time of the Yab-lha brdal-drug; see Stein 1985: 124, cf. Stein 1992. 128 Shawa 1, text 3: 33b, 5-35a, 2 (facsimile in appx. M), supplemented by readings from Gortshom 1, text Kha: 4a, 5-4b: lto [read: gto] mkhan byed pa’i mi ma mchis // khol po lha khol sras [read: gsas] khol gnyis // ’gro ba sems can don la btang // yul gcig [34a] gnam gyi yab lha ru // gung gi yar stengs su // sa’i mo ma lding nga lding cung dang // mo ma sgong nga sgong cung spyan sngar byon // de la mo dang phywa slab pas // mo ma sgong nga sgong cung zhal na re // ’di la ci yang ma lan te // mi’i rigs bzhi rang gi lan // kha’i las su khon gyod byas // lag gi las su rme khram byas // lus kyi lus su snol [read: mnol] btsog byas // ’di la cis kyang ma phan te // A’o yang [read: ya ngal] spyan drangs la // sel chen rnam [read: rnams] du thob cig zer // mtshan [read: tshan] bon thor cog spyan drangs la // mtshan [read: tshan] dang khrus chu bgyi cig zer // ’gal [34b] bon kha nag spyan drangs la // yugs chen sa la phud cig zer // khol po lha khol sras [read: gsas] khol gnyis // A’o yang [read: ya ngal] ’tshol du phyin // yul cig gying [read: gyim] yul gyim stod na // pha cig ston pa gshen rab dang // ma cig gyim bza’ ’o lo gnyis // de gnyis srid cing sprul pa las // A’o yang [read: ya ngal] zhal na re // pho bo A’o ya ngal yin // de ’og mtshan [read: tshan] bon thor cog yin // tha chung ’gal bon kha nag yin // dang po A zhes mi gyi ru // A ni skye med bon gyi sku // de nas ’o zhes zhes mi gyi ru // bon ’go [read: sgo] tham cad ’o nas gyer // de nas [35a] ya zhes mi gyi ru // ya de rlung gi rta la bzhon // de nas gyim zhes mi gyi ru // zhang po gyim gi tsha bo yin // de nas kong zhes mi gyi ru // lto [read: gto] nas ma slabs kong nas shes //. 129 Dga’ thang: 14, 103, f. 19, l. 6 for gnam bon mo sding nga sding lom and sa’i bon mo ’byo ra ’byor ’ jong; also Lhau 2: 65b, 5-7 for Ong-ma Ong-cung as the ‘diviner of the sky’ (nam ku mo ma), Ding-nga Ding-cung as the ‘diviner of the earth’ (sa ku mo ma), and Kha-ce Rung-rung as the ‘diviner of the intermediate space’ (bar ku mo ma). 130 Redactions of the still undated but undoubtedly early Dba’ bzhed mention “mTshe, Cog, Ya-ngal” coming from ’Phan-yul compared with Ngas-po in lower ’Phan-po mentioned in the dGa’-thang narrative; Pasang Wangdu and Diemberger 2000: 95, n. 372, and f. 26, l. 5-6 of the facsimile.

131

PT 1038, l. 15; see n. 27 of ch. 5 for a translation of and my comments on the passage. 132 Karmay 1998: 385-386 n. 17 quoting the Oslo Bsgrags byang manuscript (on dating of the Bsgrags byang see Blondeau 1990), and Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 7b; Oslo ms. 17a; Nagchu ms. 14a; Lhasa Tenjur edition 20). 133 Gzer myig ed. Francke 1924: 281 (sri bon yang [read: ya ngal]), 293 (srin bon ya [ngal]), Francke 1926: 324 (srin bon ya nga [read: ngal]), cf. Gzer mig: 36 (sri bon ye [read: ya] ngal), 48 (sri bon ya ngal gyim gong), 61 (sri bon ya ngal). See also Karmay 2007: 151-153, 163 n. i, who cites a g.Yung-drung Bon canonical source. The Gzi brjid section explaining sel lists the sri gto rite as one of its techniques. 134 There is one early passage in which ya ngal possibly represents a category term – like gshen or bon po – for a class of ritual specialists, see Dga’ thang: 34-35, 133, f. 3, l. 10-11: cho ga khongs re re yang / ya ngal cig gyis bsangs dang bdud rgu dang rigs bcas / ya ngal nubs re ’khri bgyI ’o //. 135 Deb ther sngon po, see Roerich 1979: 743, states that the seventh holder of the Ni-gu-ma Chos drug lineage, Sangs-rgyas sTon-pa, who was a thirteenth century contemporary of Yang-dgon-pa, came from the family of Bon-po Ya-ngal dKar-po at Sil-ma[-la-kha] in gTsang. Charles Ramble, writing in Dondrup Lhagyal et al. 2003: 672, mentions an even earlier Ya-ngal clan descendant, Shes-rab rGyal-mtshan (b. 1077), from sTag-rtse Byi-ri in gTsang-stod, but he is fully described as a lama of g.Yung-drung Bon rather than a bon ritual specialist. How Ramble was able to derive such a precise date during the eleventh century for this figure remains unattested. 136 On the Yang-ston clan settled in Dol-po and Mustang, see Snellgrove 1967: 4, n. 4, Ramble 1983, Ramble 1984, Ramble 2000: 291-292, 309, Charles Ramble and Marietta Kind writing in Dondrup Lhagyal et al. 2003: 672-675, 695, 697, Kind 2012: 180-194, and Pasang Wangdu and Diemberger 2000: 95, n. 372, 107, all of whom cite the nineteenth century Rgyal gshen ya ngal bka’ rgyud kyi gdung rabs, the lineage section of which is summarised in Dondrup Lhagyal et al. 2003: 743751. I am grateful to Guntram Hazod for sharing his copy of the Rgyal gshen ya ngal bka’ rgyud kyi gdung rabs manuscript from Dolpo with me. 137 The text is very deviant in terms of conventional spellings, although I have emended only the most obvious errors since there are no exactly parallel versions to consult. In other similar sel manuscripts, this invocation should address the three Ya-ngal brothers directly using personal pronouns and imperative verbs, and although this is largely absent here I have tried to retain some of that style in the translation without bracketing all such nuances. The sang represents a deletion within the manuscript. See Gortshom 1, text Ga: 14b, 2-6: nad kyi pho [read: nang gi phu] bo chen po la // yang dgon [read: ya ngal gyim] kong ’byung // mkhas kyang sel la mkhas // dgyer kyang sems [read: sel] nas dgyer // de yang khyim [read: ya ngal gyim] kong lam bsang sang ’dir // sel chen ’debs kyin [read: cing] byon // son [read: gson] gyi lha sgo phye // gshin gyi dur sgo chod // de’i cung po ba // tshan bon thod dkar lcog // mkhas kyang mtshan [read: tshan] la mkhas // dgyer kyang tshan la dger // khyim [read: gyim] kong lam bsang ’dir // bsangs dang khrus la byon // ma rig bag chag [read: chags] byong // nyon mong [read: mong] dri ma ’khrus // gsum gyi tha chung la // thabs [read: thab] bon me ’brang [read: bran] yin // mkhas kyang thab la mkhas // dgyer

587

Notes to pages 136–139

yang thab la dgyer // gyim sgong [read: kong] lam sang [read: bsang] ’dir // thab zhob bying du byon // ’kho gyod sel du byon //. 138 Me bran ‘fire servant’, mgal or ’gal ‘firebrand’, ‘billet of wood’, kha nag literally the ‘black mouth’, an obvious reference to the hearth centre itself. 139 For examples, see Graham 1958: 48-49, pl. 15 for the Qiang, Gros 2012: 375, 377-380 for the Drung, Nicoletti 2006: 88, Allen 2012: 203-205 n. 10, Gaenszle 2000: 151-153 and Gaenszle 2007: 226-233 for the Rai, Tautscher 2007: 41-42, and Strickland 1982: 189-190 for the Gurung/ Tamu. 140 Karmay 1998: 144 initially translated “medicinal ambrosia” for tshan, but left it untranslated in his later works (pp. 390-412). 141 Mtshan is written for tshan (‘lustral water’) throughout, and I have emended all occurrences without noting this further below. 142 Tshan gyi ma dang yum / is missing here. 143 Sedum sp. (family Crassulaceae), of which three common forms are identified in traditional Tibetan pharmacopia. The type probably referred to here, which grows near snowfields and glaciers, is called sro lo dkar po in Tibet, with alternative names gangs kyi seng chung and gangs sprul dkar po; BGT: 2987, cf. Jäschke 1881: 574. 144 A sedge, Carex sp., see Parfionovitch, Meyer and Gyurme Dorje 1992: Index. 145 Lu gu is a common synonym for several different plants used in Tibetan materia medica, and exactly which is intended here is uncertain; see Pasang Yonten Arya 2001: 329. 146 A swamp rush or reed, Juncus sp. or Scirpus sp. Parfionovitch, Meyer and Gyurme Dorje 1992: Index. 147 Two common shrubs used for the fumigation rite in the eastern Himalayas, ba lu is Rhododendron anthopogon and su lu is Rhododendron setosum; see van Driem 2007: 68-71. 148 Also ’khan pa, designating several species of Artemisia, but especially the perennial and long-stemmed Artemisia myriantha, one of the most common ritual plants used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult region. Prized for its purity, it usually grows along margins or borders (rmu < mu) of fields, tracks, forest clearings and riverbanks. 149 On the lha brag dkar po motif, see the comparative analysis in ch. 17. 150 Shawa 1, text 3: 26a, 6-27b, 6 (facsimile in appx. M), with lacunae supplemented in {} from Tsango 9: Jo bo mtshan bon thor cog bzhengs su gsol // mtshan bon thor cog sku [26b] bzhengs ’tshal // g.yas na mkhan bu btsan bzang bsnams // g.yon na bdud rtsi bum pa bsnams // zhal nas mtshan gyi cho ’brang ’don // mes po bdud rtsi thig dgu srid // mtshan bon thor cog skad de // khye’u cung g.yu yi zur phud can // dbu la grub pa’i bya ru btsugs // sku la dkar gos gu zur gsol // bdud rtsi gtsang ma’i khrus kyi bkang // gtsang ma’i khrus chab lha la gtong // lha rnams dag go tshang so zer // snol btsog khrus kyi sku khrus gsol // mtshan gyi pha dang yab // bdud rtsi thig gcig yin // bdud [27a] rtsi g.yu sbrang yin // bdud rtsi thig gcig {gangs la babs // gangs la} gangs mtshan srol lo khrungs // bdud rtsi thig gcig brag la babs // brag la brag mtshan A ba ’khrungs // bdud rtsi thig gcig g.ya’ la babs // g.ya’ la g.ya’ mtshan lu gu ’khrungs // bdud rtsi thig gcig nags la babs // nags la nags mtshan shug pa ’khrungs // de nas bdud rtsi {thig gcig} chab la babs // chab mtshan ’dam bu ka ra ’khrungs // de nas bdud rtsi {thig gcig} spang la babs // spang la spang mtshan ba lu su lu ’khrungs // bdud rtsi thig gcig rmu la babs // [27b] rmu la rmu mtshan mkhan bu ’khrungs // bdud rtsi thig gcig ni // rin po che’i mtshan

588

du ’khrungs // mtshan de dbyar sngo dgun yang sngo // dbyar sngo kun gyi sngo lugs yin // dgun sngo sman gyi yon tan yin // mtshan mchis tsam na chu ma mchis // chu btsal lha yi yul na btsal // lha brag dkar po’i logs nas chu gcig babs // chu ni thig pa dgu ru babs // dung gi bum pa dkar po bzed // khar brgyan mi ’gyur lug gu rgyud // dam ’ching mi ’gyur padma’i ’phreng // skye shi mi ’gyur rdo rje’i tshe // om gu zhu de gsal ye de saa haa //. 151 Rock 1948, Hu Chien-min 1941: 7. 152 Rock 1937: 11, Rock and Oppitz 1998: 185, Yang Fuquan 1998: 202, Mathieu 1998: 227, 229. 153 The tale was widely reported by my village informants; see a published version in ’Brug gi dngos med lam gsol: 297. Dzongkha rdza[b] or shing gi nor bu rdzab (cf. CT rdzab) is a type of ‘burl’ of tree wood (shing rdza) credited with special properties and used to make poison-expelling bowls (Dzongkha rdza phor, CT rdzab ya). 154 See the burial rites in PT 1042: 60: ʼdi rnams mkhan sprus bsangs, ‘Purify/fumigate them with Artemisia and Hellebore.’ 155 Cf. dbyar sngo dgun yang sngo with the repeating wording dbyar sngo dgun sngo (and variations) in PT 1134, but especially l. 157 rtsva’ / dbyar / sngo / dgun / sngo yang referring to a herb apparently in the ‘land of the dead’ (gshin yul) Bre-ma/Brem-dang (cf. l. 181-182). 156 See n. 169 below. 157 See n. 2 of Reflections I. 158 Karmay 1998: 143-146, 390-412, Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu 1994: 354-362, Namkhai Norbu 1995: 106-120. 159 Gortshom 1, text Kha: 4a, 5-4b, supplemented by readings from Shawa 1, text 2: 15a, 2-15b, 1: // lto [read: gto] ni mi slabs khong du tshud [read: chud] // de phyir ya ngal gyim gong [read: kong] khyod // A ’o ya ngal gyim gong [read: kong] byung // sku la rma bya’i thul pa gsol // dbu la grum pa’i g.yang bzhi [read: gzhi] gsol // phrag la phag rgod rgyal mtshan phyar // phyag g.yas rtse [read: mtshe] shing rtsa rings [read: ring] rnams [read: bsnams] // g.yon na bsx [read: bse] rnga cham chom rdungs // A ’o ya ngal gyim gong [read: kong] khyod // sku la gshegs gzhu [read: bzhud] mi mnga’ yang // ’gro ba’i don du spyan ’dren no // smrang [read: smra] yul ma gir gyi spyan ’dren no // thag brgyad ma gyir [read: gir] spyan ’dren no //. 160 See g.yang gzhi in BGT: 2614 srog chags kyi mgo sug gi pags pa cha tshang ba yod pa’i pags gdan /. 161 These traditons are largely exogenous in origins. The g.yang gzhi mats used by tantric practitioners, and commonly found in Tibetan Buddhist iconography, derive from the symbolic and ritual importance of the antelope in earlier South Asian ascetic culture. Premodern use of whole tiger and leopard skin mats in Tibetan contexts, particularly by the social elite, was derived from the court cultures of the kingdoms of the Indian plains and adjacent Himalayan valleys, the same regions that also provided these types of animal skins via trade. 162 On the pagtsa in the Dakpa speaking area of Mon-yul Corridor, see Tsewang Norbu 2008: 35, pl. opp. 124, Tarr and Blackburn 2008: 195 pl. 186, cf. also Bailey 1957: 245 on sPang-chen. On the same tunic worn in Kong-po, see Karmay 1998: 217, Ward and Cox 2001: 199, and Ramble 1997a: 145 who mentions its local name there as gushu, while Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002: 41 has guxiu for tunics of monkey and bear skin. On the tunic in Padma-bkod, see

Notes to pages 139–144

Ward and Cox 2001: 268, 270, 272, and for sPo-bo see Clarke 1997: 52 pl. 50. On the tunic among the Naxi north of Lijiang, see Rock 1963: pl. XXII and caption, and for the Qiang see Graham 1958: 20-21. The ethnic specificity of this costume in the eastern Himalayas should be carefully noted: outside of these areas just cited, this particular wild animal skin tunic is never found worn among the neighbouring Himalayan highland populations whom Tibetan, East Bodish- and neighbouring Tshangla speaking peoples call Lopa (Klo-pa) or Gidu, including the various Bangru/Bengni, Tani and Mishmi language/ dialect speakers of the frontier region, thus it is not a ‘Lopa’ attribute according to traditional clichés and pejorative representations. 163 Richardson 1993: 65-66 pls., Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 508. 164 Snellgrove 1967: 48-49 (= f. 199a, l. 25), where he makes the common mistake of reading bya ma byel as “bat”; see n. 27 above. 165 For example, Shilé 2009: 153. 166 See bya spu sna tshogs kyi slag pa sku la gsol, in Dga’ thang: 13, 102, f. 18 l. 3, and sku la ni bya rgod gyi slag pa gsol lo / in Dga’ thang: 54, 171, f. 41 l. 1. Cf. also an invocation of the gshen gShen-rab Myi-bo in a manuscript for a mdos rite that Samten Karmay described as a work of “ancient origins”, albeit without any provenance information; “What is he wearing upon his body? A cloak of vulture [feathers], lham se lhams” (where lhams means something like ‘lustrous’); sku la ci gsol na / rgod thul lham se lhams in the Srid pa spyi skong snang srid spyi mdos, Karmay and Nagano 2002: 161 (= f. 2a). 167 See lus la bya’i spus brgyan pa in Mkhas pa lDe’u: 237. This occurs in the narrative of gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s transit through twenty-seven stations (gshegs rabs nyi shu bdun) immediately following his initial descent, he reaches the area of Bra la sgo-drug, and at a locality called Bud kyi Bram-sna encounters three smut-covered (? khre khre can) boys from Mon. The text later has one of the boys escape and travel through the ravine of Lo-ro, which locates the action in the narrative immediately adjacent to the Dakpa speaking Tawang region. 168 Aris 1988: 19. 169 For example, De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 300: smyug ma ’dra la tshigs yod pa’o // lo ma med pa. The same text cites phug ron smyug ma and gu dur smyug ma as being alternative names. mTshe is a standard synonym for the general classification mtshe ldum used in the Tibetan materia medica, which describe four different types (brag mtshe, lug mtshe, ra mtshe and chu mtshe). While most modern sources on Tibetan materia medica agree on the genus Ephedra (family Ephedraceae) as a botanical identity, some mention the superficially similar but completely unrelated genus Equisitum (family Equisetaceae) as chu mtshe; dGa’-ba’i rDo-rje and Chab-mdo Sa-khul sMan-rtsis-khang 2002 [1995]: 269. The plant used in rites is simply referred to as mtshe in Srid-pa’i lha cult contexts and in other types of ritual and mythical texts. 170 For example, the Bshad rgyud chapter twenty titled Sman gyi nus pa bstan pa’i le’u in the Rgyud bzhi: 62, reads: mtshe ldum rtsa yi khrag gcod mchin tshad sel, which is repeated as the base entry for the plant in most later sources, e.g., De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 300. 171 Dga’ thang: 50, 160, f. 31, l. 2-6. 172 See, for examples of bon and gshen, the ca. twelfth century Mdo ’dus description of the srid pa’i bon po Mu-cho lDem-drug, who holds ‘a crooked white stick’ (dung gis ldem shing); Gurung 2011: 125. In

173

174 175

176

177

thirteenth century gNya’-khri bTsan-po narratives, one of the lha emperor’s personal priests bears the ‘hand-staff of the gshen’, as is clearly encoded in his name, gCo’u gshen gyi phyag-mkhar; Lde’u jo sras: 101-102, and Mkhas pa lde’u: 232. The bon po Zhang-zhung Ra-la-khyud (Zhang-zhung Ral-ba-can of the later narratives?) ‘held a staff of gold with turquoise designs on it’ (zhang zhung ra la khyud kyis gser gyis phyag mkhar la g.yu’i cho lo ris thogs bda’) in the Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 29a; Oslo ms. 71b). The ‘man of crystal’ (shel gyi mi po) who arises miraculously together with three similar figures who become three gshen priests, but who himself becomes gNya’-khri bTsan-po, is described as ‘holding a crystal staff in his hand’ (phyag na shel gyi ’gying mkhar rnams pa gda’) in the Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 11b; Oslo ms. 27a, Nagchu ms. 21b; Lhasa Tenjur edition 32). For examples of the ritual specialist’s bamboo cane ritual staff in Chinese religions, see Stein 1990: 99-102 and Campany 2002: 69-70. On the Mra people, see to date Huber 2010, Huber 2011, Huber 2011a and Huber 2012. My own monograph on Mra society, Children of the Sky, is forthcoming. Cf. Hamayon 2010 on the ritual use of Mustelid pelts in pre-Soviet Siberia. I thank Françoise Pommaret for the reference. The same nyibu costume is found downstream on the Subansiri River at least as far south as Sippi, although porcupine quills are also attached to the skin headress in downstream areas; see Riddi 2006: 207-208, 225 n. 67-68. The Apatani nyibu wears a headress called abyo of similar form and length, but made from handwoven cloth with a design featuring dots and diamonds; see Blackburn 2010: 145, photos 2, 3, 4, 18. Michael Oppitz informs me that northern Magar shamans in Nepal also wear the skin of a flying squirrel hanging upon their backs, as well as that of red panda, as a protection against attack. Concerning the death of a nyibu in the Subansiri region, Riddi 2006: 206 reports: “Thus, while disposing of the dead body of the Nyibu, [a] special burial structure is made and the Linyi-Pekis [or nest for Linyi, are] made to be placed on the structure. Linyi is a kind of bird with more than one long arrow type pointed tail feathers, and is believed to be the incarnation of a Nyibu. Linyi leads the flock of different kinds of birds while flying from one place to another. Linyi symbolising the Nyibu and the birds following him represent the common people. If Linyi comes within 7 th night and sits for a while in the Pekis, or burial structure it believe [sic] that the deceased Nyibu has agreed for any one of his clan or family members to success [sic] him as a Nyibu.” For an earlier example, see the ca. fourteenth century historiographical text Srid pa rgyud kyi kha byang that preserves a description of the gshen mTshe-mi as Bya-slag-can, ‘possessing a bird cloak’; cited in Namkhai Norbu 2013: 83, original Tibetan text not seen by me. See also Karmay 1998: 172, 178, Namkhai Norbu 1995: 118, and Vitali 2008: 389 n. 10. For a twentieth century example, see Karmay 1972 which lacks actual descriptions of such garments in the main text but uses many related names of bon and gshen, including Khu-stod Bya-zhu-can (p. 93), sNang-bon sTag-thul-can and Zhangzhung sTag-thul-can (p. 93), dBal-’bar sTag-slag-can (p. 188), and Sog-po sPrel-slag-can (p. 105).

589

Notes to pages 144–150

178

Kværne 1995: 119 and for statues and painted images of Dran-pa Nammkha’ see pp. 128-129. 179 Spyan zan gyis spu slag [...] sku chings; Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 29a; Oslo ms. 71a). 180 For Dran-pa Nam-mkha’ icons, see Kværne 1995: 128-129 pls. 42-44, Karmay and Watt 2007: 69 fig. 48a, 76 fig. 52, 79 fig. 48b, 142-143 fig. 66b #9, Karmay 1972: frontispiece, Bon-brgya dGe-legs lHun-grub rGya-mtsho et al. 2011: pl. no. 35, pp. 246-247, Bka’ brten Catalogue: 48-59 figs. 45-47, 324, 326-338. 181 Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 8-11 had earlier made the same point with regard to the Tibetan iconography of various protective deities. 182 Stein 1988, Blezer 2008, Gurung 2011. 183 For gShen-rab Myi-bo in a Byol rabs text from the dGa’-thang manuscripts, see Karmay 2009: 71-73, 80-82. Treatment of gShen-rab Myi-bo in Byol rabs and other sections of dGa’-thang manuscripts is given in Bellezza 2014 and Bellezza 2010, yet both articles contain problematic readings and dubious, unfounded interpretations. 184 Two of the most commonly encountered corruptions of the name in local rabs manuscripts are shes rab for gshen rab, and mi bon for mi bo. 185 For occurrences, see PT 1194, PT 1285, PT 1289, and IOL Tib J 731. For examples in the dGa’-thang manuscripts, see Karmay 2009: 71-74, 80-82. 186 For example, see pha jo ston pa gshen rab, Da 1, text 1: 16b, 5. 187 In local rabs narratives, these arrows are called srog mda’ nya mig, and in a ‘bon’-identified marriage rite they are assigned specifically to the groom as his life symbol; see Karmay 1975: 211. 188 For dpags bu dra’ chags I read pags bu [ga/gu] dra chag [pa]; see Jäschke 1881: 368-369 bu ga ‘hole’, ‘pore’ (cf. bu gu in BGT: 1828 bug pa chung ‘small hole’), p. 153 chag pa ‘a large tuft or bunch’, while p. 260 dra phyed ‘a kind of silk ornament’ (cf. Goldstein 2001: 548 ‘used to decorate beams’; see the illustration of a dra ba dra phyed network in BGT, 3: pls. following p. 3294) suggests this is a smaller, rustic version of the same type of ritual decoration hung off of horizontal lengths of wood (arrows, beams, etc.). 189 An alternative reading for kha here might be a measure; see Jäschke 1881: 33-34 and CDTD (nouns) entry 522, ‘a part’ although usually followed by a numeric quantity, cf. Goldstein 2001: 89 kha gang ‘a paltry amount.’ 190 In relation to the verb ’bri, for otherwise unattested nag ba (and nag nI ba) I read snag (or snag tsha) ‘ink/blacking’, while nag often stands for snag in semantically cognate compounds, e.g., nag mchan, nag ’byams or nag sre, cf. nag tsig. Black or dark blue are the colours of the bdud, and presumably painting makes these non-black items conform in order to be pleasing as ransom offerings (yas stags). 191 See Dga’ thang: 15, 104, f. 20, l. 1-3: gte’u du bu bzhag nas / bdud bon dreng nga dreng khug gyis // bdud mda’ ltong nag la // bdud dar mthIng nag btags // mda’ rgyud tshigs gsum la / dpags bu dra’ chags btags // bdud lug nag po spyi gar la // bdud mtshe kha nag ba ’brI g.yas la btags // bdud dung khyil nag nI / ba ’brI g.yon la btags //. Bellezza 2010: 52-53, 58 translated this and the following passage, although my interpretation differs in many details from his attempt. 192 For ral I understand ral gu, meaning hanging ornamentations (usually of cloth or leather cf. ral pa for hair) which I assume refers to the bdud dar mthIng nag and pags bu [ga/gu] dra chag [pa] with

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194 195 196 197

198 199 200

201

202

203

204

which the bdud bon decorated the arrow in preceding lines; Jäschke 1881: 525 dar dkar gyi ral gu, cf. Das 1902: 1170. Such ornamentation is very commonly found on ritual arrows used for mundane rites in ethnographic records from the research region. Dga’ thang: 17, 107, f. 23, l. 5-7: gna’ su’i byol na / rje yab bla bdal drug kyi byol // yang ral nas mda’ cig phyung nas // sgro bltas nI mtshe’i sgro / mde’u bltas nI shing gyi mde’u / mde’u la nI byol me bshed // mtshe dang yungs kyis bsngags // lus kyi dre lnga dang / gra’ lnga sdod pa la ’phangs na // gna’ de ltar byol lo / yab bla bdal drug nI // snyung snyung shos pa’i byol /. Note a parallel thog ya ru bltas na / [...] drung ma ru bltas na’ construction in the description of Ephedra in IOL Tib J 734: 3r92-3. For commentary upon the image in plate 34, see Kværne 1995: 71. On the development of this iconography and the vajra within it, see Linrothe 1999. Karmay 2010: 53. For details, see Berounský 2016, Berounský 2017 and Ngodzin Ngawang Gyatso 2016. I thank Daniel Berounský for drawing my attention to the image used for pl. 35. Note this image is from the manuscript collection published under the name mDa’-tshang, although that spelling is related to a Chinese transcription, and the actual Tibetan area the manuscripts are related to is lDong-khrom. I read gzhu here as gzhu gu. Lham yu thung; cf. BGT: 2583 lham yu ring ‘long-shafted boots’. In PT 1285: v46, a narrative about bon and gshen ritual specialists, one of the protagonists ‘Wore deer [skin] boots with short fur upon his feet’ (sha lham spu gur rkang la bgos); gu(r) appears to be either a diminutive or could be read as skud ‘[boot]strap/lace’. Ju thig, also refers to the divination cord (mo skud) used by gshen and bon diviners. According to oral traditions collected from contemporary diviners by Alexander Smith pers. comm. 11 December 2013, the ju thig divination is thought to have been originally performed with deer intestines and this is what the knotted strings they use resemble. Ramble notes that A ya, hereditary ritual specialists in parts of southern Tibet and highland Nepal and historically associated with bon specialists, have used intestines or entrails of sheep for divination; Ramble 2007: 699-700, 712-713, cf. also Diemberger and Hazod 1997: 272, cf. 270. Gortshom 1, text Ga: 7a, 6-7b, 3, with readings from Da 1, text 1: 17a, 3-17b, 2: gshen rabs mi bo de // sku ni lha dang sras [read: gsas] kyis brgyan // gsung ni bon dang [7b] smrang gyis brgyan // thugs ni sto [read: gto] dang spyad kyis brgyan // sku la zhi [read: g.yi] thul sram thul gsol // dbu la stag gzhu khra bo gsol // zhabs la gzigs lham yu thung gsol // ju thig shar [read: sha] ba blo la btags // gser gyi rmig pa skyed [read: sked] la btsugs // rnga gra [read: grags] mo gzhung chen rgyab na khur // gshang ’khor [read: ’khar] mo dril chen phrag la kal //. Dga’ thang: 26-27, 119-120, f. 35, l. 4-5: pha gshen rab myi bo la // gto dang dpyad bgyis sam // mo dang mtshungs bgyis sam //, also f. 35, l. 10-36, l. 1: dar gyi ral ga ring la gsol // rnga ding chen ding drags rgyab la khur // gshang khri lo skad snyan mchan du gsal //, and the transcription in Karmay 2009: 29. Michael Oppitz pers. comm. June 2013, and see the images in Oppitz 2013, II: 1147 pls. 922, 923.

Notes to pages 150–155

205 Dga’ thang: 26, 119, f. 35, l. 9-10: rta pho chung la mgyogs / lag pa’I mthIng ge nIng ge chung la mgyogs / gshen rab myi bo’i gsas rta dro bzhur nI sgas bstad de /; cf. the alternative reading by Karmay 2009: 71, 80. 206 Dga’ thang: 27, 121, f. 37, l. 7: lha rta dkar po bcibs /. 207 Stein 1984: 258 n. 4: 259, 262, 267. This association has remained the case in Tibetan folk culture until recently, for example in the practice of wearing tiger skin panels upon men’s robes in rural areas. Such skins are considered as offerings for, or symbols of a man’s innate dgra lha (and sometimes pho lha) who are personal protective deities related to martial prowess and the repulsion and vanquishing of enemies. 208 Bleiting 6: 3b: dbu la stag gzho’ khra bo gsol ba ni / gshen rab khro bo byed pa’i rtags /. In the Grags pa gling grags, one of the names in the list of the nine accomplished gshen po is Bon-mo sTag-ber li-ber, where stag ber certainly means ‘tiger [skin] cloak’; see Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 14a; Oslo ms. 33b; Nagchu ms. 26a; Lhasa Tenjur edition 20b). 209 Dotson 2013: 144. 210 Ura: 20b, 4: Swo srid pa’i de ni dang po la / ston pa shes rab mi ’os mdzad / srid pa’i de ni dbus ma la / klu bon mchod rten sangs rgyas kyi mdzad / srid pa’i de ni mtha’ ma la / lha bon de ni thod dkar kyis mdzad /. For another example, compare Da 1, text 1: 14b, 3-15a, 1: sngon gyi skal pa gong la // bshen rab mi bos gsol // bar gyi skal pa la // A ’o yang nga[l]s gsol // bskal pa’i tha ma la // bya ru thog pa’i gshen dgu gsol //, where the final type of priest wearing the feather upon his head is the identity observed in local practice; see ch. 12 for Lhau. 211 Lawa 2, text 10: 34a, 4: de ring gshen bon bdag gis skyabs mdzod cig //; cf. also f. 36a, 5: de ring gshen bon bdag gis mthu [read: mtho] dang spang la gshegs shig //. 212 In the gshen iconography of gShen rab Mi-bo, we find the similar line: rnga gra [read: grag] mo gzhung chen rgyab na khur //. 213 I do not understand the exact meaning or symbolism of dge bdun rdzes pa here and in a following line. 214 Here thod skam ‘dry skull’ probably refers to the tiara-like headgear bearing five small skulls worn around the crown of the head; cf. Jäschke 1881: 238. The headgear depicted on the local image of ston pa gShen-rab in pl. 33 seems to be what is described in this line. 215 Tsango 2, section 2, Bon rgyud bzhugs so gong ’og: 1b, 1-3b, 1, with alternate readings from Bleiting 3, Bleiting 6, and Da 1, text 1: bon bston [read: ston] pa shes [read: gshen] rab mi ’o [read: bo] ni / sku ni rig [read: ri] rgyal lhun po ’dra / gsung ni sangs rgyas gsung dang ’dra / thugs ni stog [read: rtog] med bon gyi thugs / yon bstan [read: tan] nams kha [read: nam mkha’i] mtha’ dang mnyams [read: mnyam] / ’phrin las rnams pa’i dbang du sdus / zhal ni le rgam [read: sgam] par ni / gyer sgom chen po gsung pa’i rtags / skad gnas dung mo [2a] phud ba ’dra / snangs bsrid [read: snang srid] lha ’dre dbang du sdus ba’i rtags / rnga dra [read: grag] mo rgyab tu khur ba ni / srid pa’i lha la gsol mchod byed pa’i rtags / dbu la thor btsug dge bdun rdzes pa ni / sher bar khro bo byed pa’i rtags / zhal de mar la tan pa de’i / dgra dgegs [read: bgegs] thams cad zil gyis non pa’i rtags / sku la dar rna mang po gsol ba ni / rna tshogs mchom [read: cho] ’phrul thams cad bon gyis ’dul ba’i rtags / dbu la thor btsug dge bdun rdzes pa ni / sangs rgyas yong gi zhal na bdag pa’i rtags / [2b] ral pa’i gser nag thod kam [read: skam] yod pa ni / shes rab stob pa me ltar ’bar ba’i rtags / ste ba’i thad du yu rung [read: g.yung drung] gser po yod pa ni / bon gyi

216 217 218 219

220 221 222

223 224

gzhing [read: zhing] khams g.yung drung bdag nas kyed pa’i rtags / jo bo ston pa gshen rab mi bo’i de / lus la sku gsung thugs kyis lha skyed na / ’gro ba’i don la bon mdzad do / ston pa gshen rab mi bo ni / snying ma’i dus na kun tu bzang po yin / gsar ma’i dus na rdo rje ’chang chen yin / bstan pa’i dus na shakya thubs pa yin / rigs lnga’i dus na snang par rnams rtse [read: rnam par snang mdzad] yin / khro bo’i dus na stag la me ’bar yin / sngags kyi dus na che mchog he ru ka [add: yin] [3a] / chos kyi dus na stong nyid chen po yin / sprul sku’i dus na ’khrul med chen po yin / bon gyi dus na gyer sgom chen po yin / sku gsung lhun grub shen [read: gshen] rab mi bo ni / sems can don du gshen rab mi bo byon / phyogs rnams kun tu ’gro don so sor mdzad / sku’i ’gro don mdzad pa’i sku mdog cig yang ston / gsung gi ’gro don mdzad pa bon rnams so sor skor / thugs kyi ’gro don mdzad pa lha rnams so sor skor / ’ub kyi dus na gsang chen ngo bo yin / sems can sna tshogs snang ba mi cig pa / gang la gang ’dul bon rnams mang po gsung / sdus na bzhi [read: gzhi] ’o [3b] cig tu sdu / gyer sna tshogs mang du yod / ka de ltar shes na gshen rab mi bo yin /. See Stein 2010: 7 n. 13, 99-106. Karmay 2000: 19. Karmay 2000: 7-8. Smith 1969: 10. Another example of such tolerance in the same general region was the lHa rGya-ri court of E-yul. They followed rNying-ma-pa Buddhism, but maintained a hereditary ‘bon’identified family lineage of sku gshen as their royal chaplains who officiated at all the rite de passage of royal family members. This sku gshen lineage claimed continuous succession from the imperial period, and Hugh Richardson observed it as functioning into the twentieth century; Karsten 1980: 164. Bshad mdzod: 147-157 = ff. 74a, 1-79a, 2. Bshad mdzod: 459-460 = ff. 230a, 2-230b, 2. Lawa 2, text 10: 11a, 5-11b, 1-3, in this order: ‘great-grandmother’ (yang phyi) sMan-mo-’phrul, ‘maternal grandfather’ (ma mes) rMurgyal Thes-pa-bka’, ‘grandmother’ ([A] phyi ma) sMan-mo’i ’phrul, ‘paternal grandfather’ (mes po) Tshangs-pa ’Bum-khril, ‘grandmother’ (phyi mo) Yo-phyi rGyal-spyan, ‘father’ (yab) rGyal-bon Zor-dkar, ‘mother’ (yum) Zang-zi-rigs brTsun-ma, three ‘elder brothers’ (pho bo) Kha-thog, rMu-thog and gSas-thog rGyal-ba, and three ‘younger brothers’ (nu bo) Kha-yug, Mo-yug and Dung-yug dKar-mo. The ca. twelfth century Mdo ’dus hagiography also only lists two generations of paternal ancestors and their wives: dMu-rgyal lan kyis thems-pa-skas as paternal grandfather who married lHa-za ’Phrul-mo, whose son Mi-bon lHa-bon rGyal-bon Thod-dkar married Yo-phyi rGyalbzhad-ma as parents of gShen-rab. In chapter six of the Mdo ’dus, gShen-rab is described as one of ten siblings (viz. nine brothers of whom he is the youngest, and one sister), yet none of their names resemble those here; see Gurung 2011: 145-150, who notes gShen-rab is also depicted an only child in chapter twelve of the same work. The name of the ‘mother’ (yum) in this local rabs closely resembles that of yum bZang-za Ring-btsun who is gShen-rab’s heavenly mother in his birth as ’Chi-med gTsug-phud, the teacher of rDzogs-chen; see Karmay 1972: xxi, xxiii, 10 n. 6. Lde’u jo sras: 100. For recorded examples of such Buddhist inspired narratives from within the research region, see Nanda 1982: 94-96, 109, Tashi Choden 2004: 21-23, and Dorji Penjore 2004: 51-52, 54 n. 15.

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Notes to pages 155–167

225 Urgirimpo/Urgirumpo mountain is a form of CT dbus kyi ri bo or dbus kyi ri rab lhun po, referring to the central cosmic mountain of Buddhist cosmology. 226 Billorey 1978: 23-25. 227 See gTsang-smyon He-ru-ka 1981, namely, the Na ro bon chung btul ba episode (pp. 376-387), Brag skya rdo rje rdzong episode (pp. 387-399), and the gShin don thugs rje’i lcags kyu dang sring mo pe ta byang chub la bkod pa episode (pp. 760-768). 228 On the trans-Himalayan spread of these narratives, and versions from Nepal featuring Padmasambhava, see Oppitz 1998: 338-341 and Oppitz 2013, I: 428-458, cf. also Mumford 1989: 51-54 for respective Buddhist and ‘shamanic’ versions among the northern Gurung. On the same narratives in Sikkim, see Bentley 2010. Aris 1995: 21 reported the oldest known version of a Padmasambhava narrative with the same motif, albeit related to indigenous peoples of the eastern Himalayas rather than bon or bonpo, from 1789. Cf. also background comments on textual sources in Martin 1998. 229 I have made explicit this temporal element that the narrator implied by way of his own references. 230 Note here the narrator has inverted the usual order of the drum in the right hand and flat bell in the left that we find in the Srid-pa’i lha cult iconographical narratives describing ritual specialists, and also the technique still used in ritual practice. 231 In the narrator’s Dzala dialect, the sound te expresses a drum-beat, while ling expresses the toll of the bell. 232 Narrated by Tshewang Dhondup on 10 January 2012 at Tsango (see ch. 9). Recorded and translated from Khoma dialect of Dzala by Toni Huber and Dorji Gyaltsen. Incidentally, in eighteenth century Bhutanese texts written by holders of a local gDung lineage, the name for the village called “Bemji” is written Bon-brgyud; see Ardussi 2004: 61. 233 For the inversion of a similar narrative by a Tamang bombo, see Holmberg 1984: 714-715. 234 See Dga’ thang: 13-14, 101-102, f. 17 l. 4 and f. 18 l. 6 on the ‘three-legged musk deer’ (gla ba rkang pa gsum) and ‘three-legged deer’ (sha ba rkang gsum) as mounts of two demon kings. 235 Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 11b; Oslo ms. 26b, Nagchu ms. 20b; Lhasa Tenjur edition 32); and cf. comments by Ramble in Allen 2012: xiv and the Thulung Rai goitre motifs treated in that work. 236 See Kværne 1993: 21-22 for an outline. 237 See an example elicited during the mid-1950s from Sherdukpen informants at Rupa by Elwin 1958: 243 concerning the origins of local rites and the primordial ritual specialist, in which “the great God [...] created the Jiji-Priest whose name was Bonsarap [i.e., ‘Bon shenrab’] and sent him to serve and help mankind.” 238 This is probably the Dungjee settlement at Jang on the modern maps. 239 Recorded at Lungshingpam on 22 March 2010, in a Tshangla dialect influenced by Dakpa, with Sangye Tsering as translator.

5. Bon Sh a m a ns 1

2 3 4 5

6 7 8

9

10 11

12 13

14

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Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 170 first used “Bon shaman” interchangeably with “Bon priest” for local ritual specialists within the research region, yet he did so uncritically following the older discourse typified by Hoffmann 1961, and which Bjerken 2001 and Bjerken 2004 criticise. For example, see the recent study by Tomášková 2013. For example, see the discussions in Sagant 1996: ch. 15, and Gaenszle 2007: ch. 2 and p. 60 n. 3 and the literature cited therein. See n. 20 of the Introduction. See Sidky 2010: 209 and the references cited therein. Prior to Sidky, Maskarinec 1995: 98 and Maskarinec 1998: viii had already articulated Shirokogoroff ’s profile of a shaman from the Siberian context with data from Nepal. See the review in Hamayon 1995a, Hamayon 2007. Hamayon 1995a, Hamayon 2007. See, for example, the response by Strickland 1982: 151 to E. Lot-Falck’s assessment that Gurung/Tamu shamans “have lost the art of trance and retain only a verbal priest’s journey of the soul”, and the attempts at interpretive compensation to account for this. Based on far more ethnographic data, we now know the Gurung/Tamu specialists resemble similar shamans along the extended eastern Himalayas whose mode of undertaking verbal ritual journeys involves a particular style of performance, one which cannot be adequately described as ‘trance’. See also the important discussion by Sagant 1996: ch. 15. See Vasilevich 1957, Anisimov 1963 [1952], Anisimov 1991 [1959], Shirokogoroff 1935 on speakers of Tungusic languages, and more recently Hamayon 1990 and Hamayon 1992, whose views on this topic depended upon the earlier Russian ethnographies. See Blackburn 2010: 134-139 on the nyibu as a shaman. Rock 1955, I: 5 described dtô-mbà tradition having “Bon and an admixture of aboriginal Shamanism” at its core (see also Mathieu 2011: 72). Jackson 1979: 64 held dtô-mbà “were not shamans but neither were they true priests”. Mathieu 2011: 545-546 states dtô-mbà are “strictly speaking priests”, but at once has to admit they are also like shamans. Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 12 define them as “Priester” possessing a “schamanischen Grundierung”, while McKhann 1998: 29 calls them “shaman-priests”. The dtô-mbà use of auxiliaries, their guiding of souls on journeys along the road of the dead to the ancestors, the myth and rite corpus they chant, and other features are all typical of ethnographically defined shamans elsewhere but seldom discussed collectively as such in relation to dtô-mbà. Humphrey and Urgunge Onon 1996: 4, 50-51 paraphrased in Blackburn 2010: 139. A hereditary lhami lineage serving the five villages of the Khoma Collective (Khoma, Berpa, Bleiting, Baptong and Lingdung) was granted annual private use rights over two lha’i mchod zhing or ‘lha offering fields’ for grain cultivation as compensation for their ritual services. One field was located at Bleiting and the other at Lingdung, and amounted to about a hectare of good land suitable for cultivating rice. The lineage is now defunct. Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 27b, 6-28a, 2.

Notes to pages 168–175

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16 17

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19 20

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22

23 24

See Aris 1979: 151 and Sonam Kinga 2004: 112-113 for Bhutan. CT pha jo is a colloquial lHo-brag term for ‘father’, and Wylie 1964: 289 also considered it could mean the honorific ‘patrimonic lord’ in lHo-brag historical contexts. On cognate paju/pucu/pa-chyu/po-ju/pha-jo terms for ritual specialists, see Pignède 1993 [1966]: 307-311 et passim, Mumford 1989: 32, 119-125, 143-149, 169-175, Strickland 1982: ch. 1, esp. pp. 49, 56-59, et passim for the western Gurung/Tamu. Lde’u jo sras: 100: lha las mi’i rjer gshegs te gdung rabs nyi shu rtsa gcig tu chos med kyang chab srid la brten lugs ni sgrung bon lde’u gsum gyis btsas te. Occurrence of ritual specialists called drom or dhom alongside others termed lhabon and Aya is reported for the southern Mustang region, where the names and functions of them all appear to be somewhat interchangeable; Ramble 1998: 125; cf. also Messerschmidt 1982. Some of this literature is reviewed in Samuel 2013, but see also Diemberger 2008, Diemberger and Hazod 1997: 271-272, Ramble 1996, Ramble 1998, Ramble 2007, Sihlé 2009, Vinding 1998: 309-311. It is interesting that in Sikkim Balikci 2008: 11 n. 12, 381 found the term lha bon referring only to specific types of rites involving white offerings for pho lha and mo lha deities, and not for a ritual specialist. A similar usage exists in my data on Srid-pa’i lha worship from a few sites, at which lha bon and ’dre bon are used to represent two classes of ‘rites’ (bon) addressing two different classes of beings, but which exist parallel to a lha bon designation for the bon shaman who only addresses the ancestral lha of the sky world. For examples, see the colophons for Bleiting 3 and Lhau 2 recorded in References under Local Manuscripts. For examples, see Padma Gling-pa n.d.: f. 175b, 4 on the nang so chos mdzad pa of lHo-brag, and Rgyal rigs: 28a, 47a. Chos mdzad is normally glossed chos byed pa in Tibetan lexicons. In a recent discussion of Tawang history, Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 488 n. 19 proposed the gloss ‘aristocratic monk’ for chos mdzad, although this does not fit all contexts in which the term appears. On pre-modern migrations related to tax avoidance and conflict, political upheavals, Khengkha speaking diaspora populations, and modern out-migration from Kheng, see Dorji Penjore 2009 and Sharma 1961: 8. As an example of an individual site elsewhere, I can mention Ney in Kurtö where a former system of transmission by descent was replaced with community appointment when the hereditary chami specialist and his household migrated out of the region in the recent premodern period to avoid heavy taxation. One can only imagine that Michael Aris 1980: 12 misunderstood his informants when he claimed that the bon po leading the Pla festival in Lhau (which Aris did not witness himself) were “possessed”. I checked this carefully during my fieldwork at Lhau (see ch. 12), and it was strongly denied, nor do other eye-witness accounts of Pla at Lhau before and after Aris’ visit report it; cf. Billorey 1976, Billorey 1978, von Fürer-Haimendorf 1980 and von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 170-172, Nanda 1982: 112-113. See especially Gaenszle 2007 on Mewahang Rai, Höfer 1994 on Tamang, and Krader 1978 and Abykova 2014 on Buryat. Hoongla 2: 5a, 6-6b, 1, here transcribed in original, unedited form (note: ÷ and x characters occur in the original, the latter in red ink): dang po tshe mi bsdo bzhi las ÷ [5b] tshe mi lda’u bzhi srid su ya’a ÷ x snga pho rgyal po’u xxx mee bkrugs po tshe las xxx mee bskro’u ku tshe las xx

25 26 27

mee gor ’dar tshe las xx mee bskra’u gdon ku tshe las xx mee ri ku tshe las xx mee bsang ku tshe las xx yang bsrang ku tshe las xx med dpan ku tshe las xx span ma ’dar ku tshe las xx mee nir ku tshe las xx mee rgyal po tshe las xx [6a] mee rgyal ’dar ku tshe las xx mee gyings ku tshe las xx mee ’dar ku tshe las xx mes ’dar gyis ku tshe las xx mee rin ku tshe las xx mee rin gyi’a ku tshe xx mee nor bu seng ge tshe las xx mee nor bu rin bcen tshe las xx mee gom bu xxx mee ri sha ku tshe las xx mee bla ma nor bu ku tshe las xx mee sngags bcangs tshe las xx mee ’dor tshing tshe las xx mee khams pa ku tshe las xx mee ’da’u la ku tshe las xx mee sidar ku tshe las xxx mee byu ’di’u xx mee bsten zin ku tshe las xx mee padma sdu ru ku tshe las xxxx mee ngang ’dzin tshe las xx mee padma dbang phyug tshe las xxx [6b] mes A pa bla ma hri ’dar gyis su’i ti /. A brief portrait of Bla-ma Hri-’dar was given by Nanda 1982: 115-116. Results from my field research in Limeking Circle, Upper Subansiri District, 2004-2008. This begins with the mTshe and gCo proper names in PT 1038. Read as a meaningful Old Tibetan word, mtshe can mean ‘twin’ (mtshe ma), as well as a short form of the identity for the ‘Ephedra’ plant which also occurs as mtshe mo, and later mtshe ldum in Classical Tibetan (while gco is not a known Old Tibetan word). These meanings do not lend any particular sense to PT 1038. Rather, in context there is little doubt mTshe and gCo are paired proper names. The relevant passage, as recently translated by Joanna Bialek (2018, 1: 447), reads: "The so-called middle and the fourth khri, from gods of the sky to the six valleys, as the ruler of black-headed upright ones, that had no ruler [above them], as the superior of maned animals, that had no superior [above them], having made to the rulers of men - [officiators of] gods and demons – the counsellors Lho and Rṅegs, bon po Mtshe and Gco, phyag tshaṅ Śa and Spug, came down to the country Bod-ka, [the land] of six valleys." The phrasing shows that the appointment of the six earthly functionaries is a separate event from the actual descent of the lha ruler. The distinction is important. Later traditions explicitly describe mTshe and gCo actually descending from the sky together with the lha ruler, as though the former were themselves sky denizens. This appears to be a later elaboration on PT 1038 or some parallel Old Tibetan text or myth transmission, and while some aspects of this passage remain vexing the contextual information for the names mTshe and gCo tend to confirm this suspicion. Firstly, PT 1038 is the unique source for mTshe and gCo as proper names in the Old Tibetan corpus. All six names in the passage together refer to real social groups or persons. The other four names here, lHo, rNgegs, Sha and sPug, are all well known as historical names from Old Tibetan documents. lHo, rNgegs and sPug appear as clan names or ethnonyms of high-ranking persons serving within the imperial administration, or in the case of Sha, when paired with sPug, in the Old Tibetan Chronicle’s narrative account of these historical figures and their times. The possibly related clan name or ethnonym Sha-myi appears in several Old Tibetan administrative documents, and a Sha or Sha-mi clan is known from central and southern Tibet in later times; see n. 18 of ch. 9, and Taenzer 2012: 153-154. Given this overall context, the most reasonable reading of the otherwise unknown names mTshe and gCo in PT 1038 would be as abbreviated orthographic variations of other well-known clan names in the Old Tibetan documents from the same milieu. The

593

Notes to pages 175–177

28

29 30

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obvious candidates in this case would be Tshes-pong and Cog-ro. In fact, in many later Classical Tibetan sources which appear to take their inspiration from this myth passage in PT 1038, or from passages like it, the mTshe and gCo names appear as orthographic variations that include Tshe, Tshes and Cog or lCog. While this explanation is relatively strong, a second possibility is that redactors of the myth in PT 1038 have borrowed and adapted other mtshe and gco names or words from existing mythical and ritual texts. For example, in PT 1287: 185-187 the name Tshes-pong occurs together with bon probably meaning ‘rite’ or ‘offering’ and mtshe meaning Ephedra within one verse passage of thirty-three consecutive syllables. Passages in IOL Tib J 734 have both the recurring initial element mTshe (perhaps meaning ‘twin’?) for the unique name His-po His-bdag, with mtshe (and mtshe mo) meaning Ephedra as a ritual substance together with the word bon for ritual specialists, and various co, lco or cog words. Some examples are as follows. In the Bsgrags byang, mTshe-mi’s function is described using religious terms typical of Tibetan salvation religons (dbang dang byin rlabs gyis cig /; see Karmay 1998: 385-386 n. 17, quoting the Oslo Bsgrags byang manuscript). In the Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 7b; Oslo ms. 17a; Nagchu ms. 14a; Lhasa Tenjur edition 20) it states, ‘In the land of Bod, the teachings of the dpon gas were appointed to pha ba mTshe and gCo’ (bod yul du pha ba tse [or: rtse/tshe/mtshe] co [or: rtsog/ gco] la dpon gsas kyi [or: kyis] bstan pa bzhag /). The term dpon gsas refers to religious figures in the Zhang-zhung snyan rgyud tradition of g.Yung-drung Bon, and is thus often translated as ‘preacher’, ‘master’, ‘master sage’, and so on, while it is also claimed to mean bla ma in the Zhangzhung language. The term dpon gas is a g.Yung-drung Bon innovation which never occurs in Old Tibetan documents or in ritual texts for mundane rites representing materials prior to or beyond the influence of g.Yung-drung Bon. In the final Zas gtad chapter of the Dba’ bzhed, mTshe, along with Cog (i.e., gCo) and Ya-ngal, and various other bon po ritual specialists, are inserted into the narrative as those who arrive to perform secular death rites for the emperor Khri Srong-lde-btsan, and which the text denigrates in highly negative terms in favour of Buddhist rites; Pasang Wangdu and Diemberger 2000: 95ff. Concerning this Dba’ bzhed passage, one can note that the oldest known references to Ya-ngal and mtshe mi all occur in the dGa’-thang manuscripts, where none of them are related to funeral rites. In an early twentieth century g.Yung-drung Bon history the figures [l]Cog-la g.Yu-skyid and mTshe-mi [or ’Tshe-mi] Shag-’bar appear in the narrative as receivers of religious revelations by the early scripture revealer gShen Klu-dga’; Karmay 1972: 131/294, Martin 2001: 66-67. On Tshe/Tsher/’Tshe/mTshe-mi characters in these narratives, see Namkhai Norbu 2013: 70-86 table 6, who took the trouble to catalogue a wide selection of them, and Sørensen, Hazod with Tsering Gyalbo. 2005: 155-156 n. 2. Dga’ thang 50, 160, f.31, l. 2. According to authors such as Sørensen, Hazod with Tsering Gyalbo 2005: 155-156 and n. 2, the Bka’ chems ka khol ma narrative of lake-filling and shrine building featuring Tshe-mi gNam-grags and lCog-ro ‘Brug-snang should be older, since they date that text to the eleventh century. One can doubt this. While some parts of Bka’ chems ka khol ma are certainly ancient, how such an early date

is derived to encompass the entire content of the work is not made transparent by these authors. One can note that Tshe-mi and lCog-ro in this Bka’ chems ka khol ma narrative are already fully developed after the model of the Buddhist lama, taming autochthonous beings and performing consecration rites for a mchod rten. This very religious profile contradicts the progression of Tshe-mi and mtshe mi figures in all the other dateable sources, and looks very much like a later tradition. 31 As a possible precursor of gshen bu rgyal tsha note the gshen tsha Lungsgra in PT 1068: 54, 88, 91. 32 Nyang ral chos ’byung: 159-160, 163. 33 Lde’u jo sras: 101: mtshe mi gshen gyi rmu rgyal tshas ni dbu la mtshe btsugs, cf. Mkhas pa lde’u: 235: mtshe mis mtshe btsugs /. 34 Compare invocation of all the gyúppa mème and gyúppa phamo by Tamang bombo; Höfer 1994: passim. 35 Mee < Tib. mes; ku is a written form of the oral Dakpa and Dzala genitive; ya, ya’a, yagu are written forms of the oral Dakpa verb (and auxiliary) ‘to do/was done/took place’. 36 See the discussions of tshe throughout Gerke 2012. 37 Höfer 1994: 21-23, 198 n. 659, Haarh 1968: 13, 43, Martin 2010: 245. 38 I thank Per Kværne for pointing this out. 39 For example, the ultimate source of a bombo’s àyo is an apical ancestor among four primordial bombo (or bon syì in Old Tamang ritual language, cf. Tib. bon bzhi). They inhabit the four directions of the cosmos, and include Naru Bon, Jyangsonam Bon, Nup Bálding Bon and Dol Bon (an alternative list has Jyangsonam Bon, Nup Bálding Bon, Loyurung Bon, Syaryurung Bon and Naru Bon); Höfer 1994: 21-22 n. 16, 24, 30, 42 et passim. A parallel scheme of auxiliaries invoked by specialists and fairly widespread in Srid-pa’i lha worship is known as the bon bzhi; see appendix E, scheme 2. 40 See the interpretation by Stein 1971: 507-508, n. 77, referring to IOL Tib J 734, and noting that Ephedra is now the strongest candidate for the original botanical identity of the ancient Indo-Iranian soma/ haoma stimulant; see Falk 1989, Houben 2003. Ephedra has also been found deposited in early tombs around the margins of the Tibetan Plateau; see Huber N.d. “Excursus on Ephedra as a ritual plant between the Himalayas and Central Asia”. 41 Compare Balikci 2008: 148-149. 42 Gaenszle 2007: 72, Höfer 1994: 23. 43 First pointed out by Arianne Macdonald, see Stein 2010: 245, 256258, 264. 44 See, for example, Bellezza 2013: 135 n. 188 discussing pha bo in the dGa’-thang Bum-pa-che manuscripts: “This quaintly constructed O.T. [Old Tibetan] term may be read as an honorific expressing venerability or a storied quality.” In fact, this uncommon form also recalls ‘elder brother’ terms, such as phu bo and pho bo. 45 See, respectively, Mkhas pa lde’u: 229 = f. 129r, and Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel: 3r. The spelling Yab-lha brDal-drug is a later ‘father’ interpretation of earlier ya bla ‘on high’, albeit reflecting older notions of the sky lha as paternal ancestor-protectors. 46 On pha jo and its many cognates, see n. 15 above. See Ramble 2007: 714 for historical and ethnographic evidence of A ya as both a title for ritual specialists and a kin term referring to some forms of ‘elder brother’ (note: aya is also a kin term meaning ‘eldest son’ in Gurung/

Notes to pages 177–187

47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57 58 59

Tamu-kwi, cf. a’i for ‘eldest brother’; Strickland 1982: 319). See Höfer 1994: 194 on the ‘grandfather’ (Mème) designated ancestral auxiliaries of the western Tamang bombo shaman. Both priests and progenitor figures in the oral traditions of many populations speaking Tani languages and dialects in central Arunachal Pradesh are termed ‘father’ (Aba, Abo, Ab) and ‘grandfather’ (Ato); see Blackburn 2010: 166-169 for Apatani examples. For abba ‘father’ terms applied to both auxiliaries of ritual specialists and apical progenitor sky deities among the Qiang of western Sichuan, see Graham 1958: 45-46, 51-52, 53, 58. In Huber 2015a, I had initially characterised this as ‘religious’, which I no longer find appropriate. For discussions of Old Tibetan mgon tsun (and variants), yab, yab myes and lha, see Beckwith 2011, Stein 2010 and Walter 2009. Bloch 2008: 2057-2058, cf. Hazod 2014. Ramble 2008: 222, cf. Karmay 1975: 203-207, Karmay 1998: 380-412. These twin avoidances are also typical of hunters in Himalayan areas; compare here Oppitz 1983: 221. Cf. a parallel case amongst the Lohorung Rai in Hardman 2000: 121125, 155-157. Bleiting 2, f. 9b, 2-3: kha brtsang lag btsang bes pa yin / sems btsang yid btsang se gsel pa yin. See PT 1285, l. r41-42 on the smra bon and l. r88 on the lde gshen, cf. l. r69. These passages are now translated by Bialek 2018, 1: 328-329, who also considers kha gtsang to have stood for the idea of ‘impeccable’ as an attribute of ritual specialists, as in the Old Tibetan constructions sku gshen kha gtsang gcig and sku gshen kha gtsang gnyis in PT 1042. Karmay and Nagano 2002: 2 = 4a: lag byad dag par khrus /. Holmberg 1989: 213-214. Hardman 2000: 111. Torrance 1933-1934: 43-44, Mathieu 1998: 211. Graham 1958: 61, cf. also 54.

6. M at er i a l Cu lt u r e of Bon Sh a m a ns 1

2 3 4

5

There is local variation in the way this originally Tibetan term is preserved in oral form among speakers of East Bodish languages. I often sampled thekar, and Dorji Penjore 2004: 59 recorded theykor in Kheng Wamling. Dga’ thang: 46, 153, f. 23, l. 7, and 52, 165, f. 35, l. 5. On this hat type worn by the Aya ritual specialists in southern Tibet, see Ramble 2007: 702-705, and especially fig. 1. See Cooper 1933: 126-127, figs. 1-3 for the first thorough description of this hat; cf. also Tsewang Norbu 2008: 36-37, pl. between pp. 124125. Spoken tsitpa shamo derives from CT rtsi pa zhwa mo ‘hat [with] points/tips’. A version of the same hat called gurdam is worn by the Sherdukpen – but only males – immediately south of Dirang; see Sharma 1961: 17. The Sherdukpen also copy a version of this headgear based upon the tsitpa shamu for their Khiksaba festival, which is no surprise since many features of that festival are closely derived from Srid-pa’i lha

festivals such as the Pla of Tawang and Chisöshe of Dirang. The Sherdukpen version is called chitpo guthung. It is not worn by any shaman or sub-shaman and the high ritual significance of its feathers in relation to auxiliaries is unrecognised; see Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 51 fig. 12, pls. VIII, XIII. 6 In rGyal rabs gsal ba’i me long dated to 1368, the description of a bon po priest representing the second ‘way’ of the bon theg pa dgu scheme, whose general function seems closely cognate to the bon shaman, is de la snang gshen bal thod can; Sa-skya bSod-nams rGyal-mtshan 1981 [1368]: 57. See also Ramble 2007: 689 on a parallel passage in the Mkhas pa’i dga’ ston, and his comment on myths about the woollen headdress (p. 694). The biography of the Gungthang princess Chos kyi sGron-ma (1422-1455) describes the bon po court priests at her new husband’s household in La-stod lHo as wearing a bal gyi thod; Diemberger 2008: 337, 339, 340. 7 For examples, see Ramble 2007: 705-706, fig. 1 on the ‘mushroomshaped’ wool hat of the A ya of Kyar (southern Tibet), Sihlé 2009: 152 and Ramble 2007: 706 [reporting Diemberger], on the pedok (i.e., dialect for bal thod) or lha bal of the Ala in Nye-mo (Central Tibet), Balikci 2008: 147, 160, 352 pl. 38, and cf. 148 pl. 10 on the bal thod of Lhopo village ritual specialists in northern Sikkim, Strickland 1982: 70, 141, 207-208, 237 and Pignède 1993 [1966]: 309 on the woollen ralpo of the Gurung/Tamu po-ju. On examples from Yunnan, see ch. 17. 8 See Tamdringang 1: 29b, 3-30a, 3, with parallel readings from manuscripts in Bumthang. Note that the East Bodish ergative ’i occurs in the passage: g.yang dkar lug gi srog pa’i bal rgyab la / dang po bal khas bza’ de mas bu’i khal / bar du bal khas ston pa gshen rab mi bo khal / de ring bal khas lha bon thod dkar gyis khal / lha bon thod dkar gyis khal ba’i bal rtse la / gsol gsol brten brten mchod mchod pa’i / rus kyi pho lha gnyan po dang / dgra lha gnyan po zhang lha gnyan po dang / ston pa [30a] gshen rab mi bo srid pa’i lha rab bcu gsum / yar lha shar po kun lha mkha’ ri dang / ha’u gangs zags snyan chen thang lha dang / rtsib lha byar ma brag btsan dmar po dang / skyes bu rlungs btsan rin chen mgon g.yag dang / pho lha dgra lha zhang lha thams cad kyis / rgyu sbyor yon bdag ’khor dang bcas pa la / steng gdon gza’i gnod pa srungs cig /. A long list of requests for protection to these same deities then follows here. 9 Cf. observations by Ramble 2015: 503 for a ‘Bon’ context in the Nepal highlands. 10 Rock 1972, II: 436. 11 See Stein 1957: 12-15, who cites the “ancient Ch’iang”, although exactly which groups this ethnonym referred to in earlier Chinese sources remains highly problematic; see Wang Ming-ke 2000. 12 Lalou 1953, Stein 1970, cf. Thomas 1957. 13 For various Naxi images of the flying sheep in myth and ritual, see Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 111, Rock 1952, II: 404, 408-409, Rock 1963: 84, 171. 14 Tashi Choden 2004: 9 reported of the former ha bon specialist at Gortshom, who passed away during the mid-twentieth century, that, “He wears a bundle of white yarn around his head”. 15 For a comparison with two different ston pa gShen-rab images in the same manuscript, see Kværne 1995: 71. 16 The same name, CT sne ’u, is used in Tibetan pharmacopeia for the morphologically similar Chenopodium album, which is also common in the research area; cf. Molvray 1988: 16.

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Notes to pages 190–200

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18

19

20

21 22 23

24 25

26

27 28

596

Outside of ritual contexts, one often sees cattle herders, cultivators, and even rural inhabitants travelling on foot wearing these Artemisia wreaths; see the photograph in Brauen 1994: 103. For Tibetan words ending in the vowel u or consonant la in spoken Tawang Dakpa the pronunciation tends to shift to an i ending, thus ru is spoken ri, yul as yui, and so on. In 1913, F.M. Bailey 1957: 245 (cf. Bailey and Morshead 1914) noted that in Le and Trimo in the upper Nyamjang Chu valley, the “Mon-pa” there “wore single peacock feathers round their felt hats”; the same hat is described in Tsewang Norbu 2008: 37. See the form of Magopa women’s hats in the far north-eastern Mon-yul Corridor; Singh, Dutta and Ahmad 1995: pl. following 426, Ward 1940-1941: 181 pl. Sinha 1962: 27, 141, Pandey 1996: 42. Trotter 1915: 178. See also the Miji “priest” in Tarr and Blackburn 2008: 183 pl. 171, the example being relevant since Aka mugou were also recruited from Miji communities; Sinha 1962: 128. Simon 1993: 31, 45. See the list of references in Höfer 1994: 61 n. 27, to which we can add: on Sikkim Gorer 1984 [1938]: 358 for the headgear of the Lepcha mun; Pignède 1993 [1966]: 409-410, pl. XIX on the headgear of the Gurung po-ju (see Strickland 1983: 228 n. 1 on orthographies of the term); Nicoletti 2006: 23-24, photo 50 and Nicoletti 2006a: 151-153, photos 7-9 on the headgear of the Kulunge Rai mop; Hardmann 2000: 129 on Lohorung Rai ritual specialists; and Vinding 1998: 309 n. 75 on the bird headgear of shamans among highland populations of Nepal. According to my observations, Aka, Miji and Rahung Sartang ritual specialists all carry a cane bag or board under their right armpit on a strap across one shoulder, upon which is mounted a bird’s beak – often from a hornbill – sometimes also with birds claws, which is covered in dried sacrificial blood offered to their auxiliaries. Nyibu shamans in the upper Subansiri River valley carry a device of wing feathers and claws called kyokam mayab which represents a flying auxiliary, which must always be hanging over their shoulder (usually the right side; see pl. 33). Höfer 1974: 171 observed “[...] all Tamang bombo seem to possess the beak and skull of a horn-bill, representing a mystical bird called khyun which is believed to be one of their most important helpers while fighting with spirits.” For one example of many, see Shirokogoroff 1935: 289, 292-293, 295297 on Evenki shamans. A typical example from Nepal is the ralpo/rhalbu (colloquial pana tsana) or “long-haired woolen hat” described by Pignède 1993 [1966]: 309, pl. XIX, and Strickland 1982: 70, 141, 207, 237, 240 for the po-ju ritual specialist among the western Gurung/Tamu; cf. Oppitz 2013, II: 832 Abb. 287, 834 Abb. 312, 842 Abb. 328. The western Tamang bombo has a long, matted hair lock called ralbo, sometimes with a tuft of ribbons attached to it, hanging down his back and “said to serve as a kind of ladder for the various superhuman beings entering the bombo’s body”; Höfer 1994: 69, Holmberg 1989: 108, 147. The term ralpo/ralbo/rhalbu/rhalbo in highland Nepal undoubtedly relates to CT ral pa referring to matted or braided locks of hair, while the verb ral ba means ‘to tear [something into strips]’; cf. also Oppitz 2013, I: 309.

29

30 31

32

33

34 35 36 37 38

39 40 41

The original spelling bsur ba’i rgyab ri can be read as CT rgyab ‘back’ or ‘clothing’/’cover’, ri < CT ris ‘design/pattern’, bsur < CT bsu ba ‘to welcome/receive’. Lawa 1, text 2: 2b, 1: Yum gsum gra ba A ya bon po’i spyi bo rtsug du ’byon cig /. Nya ru kam po sha ru kam po gsol ba’i lha / de ni lha ’o de gung rgyal / de ni rang gi gsol ba’i lha / g.yas pa’i pung [read: dpung] ro bzhon nas ’dzog / g.yon pa’i spungs [read: dpung] ro bzhon nas ’dzog / bon po nga’i mgo ba’i steng nas bzhon nas ’byon /; my translation is based on the text cited in Dorji Penjore 2008: 275. The original text, written by an author obviously quite literate in Classical Tibetan, features the Khengkha verb zyok ‘to sit’ (cf. CT bzhugs), although, interestingly in this context, not in the honorific form (zyok timin). See, for example, Holmberg 1989: 161, 166, Höfer 1974: 174-175 and Höfer 1994: 27-28, 194 on Tamang bombo priests in highland Nepal. The souls of all the clients and audience of the priest worshipping Saraṅdew/Rùrùmahaŋ among the Mewahang Rai are collected upon his shoulders during his verbal ritual journey down from the sky; Gaenszle 2007: 290. The lhaven (cf. CT lha bon) priest of the Khumbo has a piece of cloth upon his right shoulder, symbolically identified as a ‘ladder’, which puts him in communication with deities; Diemberger 1992: 423. On the Nuosu bimo of Yunnan, Swancut 2012: 114 n. 1 notes “they feel guardian spirits rising up their shoulders, back, and head.” The Lepcha mun states that the soul of a dead man ‘sits on his shoulders’; Gorer 1984 [1938]: 358 n. 5. All this contrasts with the language of ‘descent’ (bab, ’bab, phab) associated with mediums who experience possession, epic bards and lamas in Tibetan Plateau contexts; see Stein 1959: 335-341. For example, Tamdringang 1: 3b, 2-3: dga’ na bon po’i rnga gdung shang khrol yang / dga’ na dar phyar dung bud yang / dga’ na glu len bro dung yang / dga’ na bon po’i gsung snyan yang de ring lha bon nga’i gsung la ’byon //. Only those areas from which multiple eye-witness accounts were collected are mentioned here. Lawa 2, text 10: 34b, 4-5: rnga bzhengs rding bzhengs pa // gshang bzhengs krol bzhengs //. Da 1: 28a, 5: dgu rdung gnyis rtsegs //, and 45a, 3: gsum mtshan gsum rdung ngo //. See, for example, Tandin Dorji 2002: 183 n. 20. A hereditary pha jo still worshipping a pho lha named Zhib-zhi on a local mountain top for the communities of Pangshing, Jok and Jemezhong in lower Tang, and whose manuscripts for the chants contain Srid-pa’i lha rabs, uses a rnga chen drum during these rites. Tashi Choden 2004: plates on 9, 10, 12 published photographs of a version of the rnga chen drum being used to celebrate the Habon festival at Gortshom during 2002, however its use is by a layman since by that time the hereditary bon shaman had already passed away without any successor. See the typological overview in Oppitz 2013, I: 44-47, 530-531 map Schamanentrommeln in Eurasia. Oppitz 2013, I: 492-493, Oppitz 2013, II: 1136-1139 Abb. 893-896, 898-900. Oppitz 2013, I: 405.

Notes to pages 200–220

42

See the map Übersicht Himalaya Fünf >Inseln der Form< in Oppitz 2013, I: 44-45. 43 In a local iconography of gShen-rab Mi-bo, he ‘rings a small flat bell of gold in his right hand...[and]...beats a small drum of conch in his left hand’ (phyag g.yas na gser gyi shang chung skrol ba […] phyags g.yon dung gyi rnga chung rdung pa); see Lawa 3, text 2: 2a, 3-4. 44 Dga’ thang: 26, f. 35, l. 10. 45 Ramble 2007: 693 quoting the Meisezahl redaction of the manuscript. 46 For a review of known variations of this narrative along the Himalayas, see Oppitz 2013, I: 428-458. 47 Changalov 1958/60: 365-370 quoted in Abykova 2014. 48 See Helffer 1994: 215-231. 49 PT 1289, v3, 12: gshang dril chen na phyag ma g.yon na snams / gshog the ra ther bu ni phyag ma g.yas na snams /. 50 Dga’ thang: 26, 120, f. 36, l. 1. 51 Khro mo refers to the ‘bell metal’ or ‘bronze’ (khro) substance of the flat bell’s body, although the word is frequently misspelt in local manuscripts yielding other meanings, e.g., ’khor mo, khar mo, dkar mo, etc. 52 I am grateful to Vanessa Cholez and Kelzang Tshering for help identifying Viburnum cylindricum. Shargremshing appears to be a Mon-yul Corridor name for the species; it is called nomshing in Tshangla dialects within Bhutan to the west, while Bugun communities further south use cognate chiram-hing, shiram-hing or sargo-hing for the same tree. 53 These worship communities include those in Kurtö at Nai, Chusa, Tabi (and formerly Zhamling whose cult moved to Tabi) and Shawa (whose horn was also formerly used at Nangnang above Dungkhar, Thangrung and Thunpey), those in Khoma at Lawa and Tsango (including Laber), and in the past at Shekhar and the Khoma collective of five villages, and those in Bumdeling at Dar and Seb. An isolated report of ritual horn use at Ura in Bumthang could not be confirmed. 54 For a transcription of the Khengkha influenced text, see Dorji Penjore 2004: 57: dang phu pha ma’i sgang na ni, gser gyi ung na zhu zu mo co lags / da bu tsharang gi sgang na ni, g.yag gi rwa na zhu ta co lags /. 55 Here we can note that in other Himalayan shaman traditions the horse is associated with the shaman; for instance, for the western Tamang bombo and the horse, see Holmberg 1989: 161 n. 19, 162 et passim, and Höfer 1994: 61, fig. 3, 62. In the Srid-pa’i lha cult this is not the case, since only the identification of the horse with the lha is present and significant. 56 Kurtöp phak ‘pocket’ and phâ ‘large pocket’ is an exaggerated image of the open ‘vagina’ (tu); mili “refers to penis of a father”; Hyslop et al. In Preparation: 138, 143, 159, cf. Bumthap miling “penis of a man who has fathered a child” in van Driem with Dr’âsho Sangye Dorji 2015: 59; while for shang shang cf. Kurtöp shangmale ‘reduce, be little’, shangwala ‘feeble’, Hyslop et al. In Preparation: 220. 57 Nicoletti 2006: 88-89. 58 Nicoletti 2006: photo 32 caption, 181-183. 59 Oppitz 1998: 315, Oppitz 2004: 26-29, Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 45-48. 60 Mkhas pa lde’u: 232, 235.

61

Lde’u jo sras: 101: [...] byon nas dung ’phar mo pha chung gyis sngon du sgra bsgrags. 62 He Limin and He Shicheng 1998: 141, 148, 151-152, Yang Fuquan 1998: 193-194, 203, Mathieu 1998: 216, 227-228, 232, Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 60-61, Zhang 2013: 198, Oppitz 2004: 28-29 fig. 33. 63 Stein 1972: 36-37. 64 See n. 114 of ch. 2 for my interpretation of the Dri-gum bTsan-po myth. 65 Cf. BGT: 168 on skyogs nag the ‘black ladle’ defined as lcags kyi gzar bu ‘a ladle of iron’. 66 For a Bangni or Nyishi example, see Tarr and Blackburn 2008: 170 pl. 157. 67 For an Apatani example, see Tarr and Blackburn 2008: 148 pl. 132, Blackburn 2010: photos 3, 5, 10 and on its ritual function 90, 145, 147. 68 Rock and Oppitz 1998: 175 “Sketch of a Propitiation of Heaven altar”, Rock 1963: 16, 179. 69 Graham 1945: 71 and Graham 1958: 63, 86 who called them ‘dippers’. 70 PT 1134: 183, IOL Tib J 731: v90-v95; cf. byol chang skyogs gang ‘full ladle of byol beer’ used by a byol gyi bon po for averting (byol) rites (Dga’ thang: 20, 112, f. 28, l. 6-7), and rkyem pa rngul gang ni ‘a full silver [ladle] of beverage’ as part of a ransom rite (blus) by pha Ya-ngal Gyim-khong (Dga’ thang: 33, 131, f. 1, l. 9). 71 See Ramble 2007: 692-693 for a discussion of the sources. 72 For studies and discussions, see Oppitz 2008, Oppitz 2013, I: 517-523, Scott 2009: ch. 6 ½. 73 For example, Rock 1955: 6. 74 “Dongba ceremonial books resemble Tibetan Buddhist books in that they are long and rectangular and are read horizontally from left to right; however, they may be wider and are usually stitched on the left side. Dongba divination books are wider and usually stitched at the top”, Mathieu 2011: 67 and pl. 4.13. 75 See Stein 1971 for examples. 76 See the collection of such accounts in Oppitz 2013, I, Oppitz 1998. 77 For examples, see Maskarinec 1995, Oppitz 1999: 168-173, Oppitz 2004, Rock 1937 and Strickland 1982: Appendix 1. 78 On this name and its forms in Old Tibetan documents, see Stein 2010: 263, also Dga’ thang: 44, 149, f. 19, l. 5-6 for rGya-yul gTanbzangs, cf. its occurrence in a Glud rabs presented by Karmay 1998: 343, 372. 79 While using conventional ‘spoon’ for thur ma, lexicons also give the meaning of stick or rod, or even a thin pipe to blow on a fire with. Those meanings fit better morphologically with the needle and awl here, although I can offer no ethnographic support from the research area for such a reading. 80 The usual explanatory refrain is missing here, possibly because the function of the blang nga rgya gling is added at the end of the narrative. 81 Here blang nga and rgya gling [kha] count as two items whereas in most local rabs they form a single term for the shallow, wide-mouthed metal incense pan. The sgor mo is unknown to me, but appears to describe a round-mouthed type of brazier called spos phor elsewhere. 82 Gortshom 1, text Kha: 10b, 5-11b, 6. Although this is the most complete redaction, the Gortshom 1 text is poorly written. To avoid elaborate apparatus and yield a smoother translation, for obvious cases of missing words and spelling variations I used better readings from

597

Notes to pages 220–227

83

84

85

86

598

the redactions in the Tsango 9 and Ura manuscripts, which are simply underlined in the transcription: dang po lcags ’byung ga nas ’byung // rgya yul stan bzangs de nas byung // rgya brag dkar po’i log la sbas // lcags kyi pha dang yab kyi mtshan // pha ni khro rtse rgyal po bya ba lags // lcags kyi ma dang yum kyi mtshan // ma ni zhun rtse rgyal mo bya ba lags // [11a] de gnyis srid cing sprul pa’i sras // bu mo lcags nag bya ba byung // ’gar ba ’ jam ’gar legs po’i phyag du ’bul // ’gar ba ’ jam ’gar legs po yis // sol ba de ni ri ltar spungs // sbud pa de ni rlung ltar tshub // thab chen de ni mtsho ltar khol // rkam pa de ni byi ltar ’dzul // tho ba de ni bya ltar lding // ’og rdo de ni glang ltar ’khun // ’gar ba thabs dang shes rab ldan pa yis // dgos pa’i bzo rnams byed pa la // lcags ni che gsum che ru brdungs // khrab dang sgri smog gsum du brdungs // de gsum skyes pa pho’i brgyan du bcas // ’bring gsum ’bring du brdungs // rta re ste’u bzong bu gsum du brdungs // de gsum lag cha rnam gsum yin // lcags ni chung gsum chung du brdungs // khab dang snyung bu thur ma gsum du brdungs // bzo cha rnam gsum de la bgyis // blang nga lcags sgyed lcags kong gsum du brdungs // sog le se brdar kyung bu gsum du brdungs // sga bzo rnams [11b] gsum de la bgyis // tsher bzung rmang tsher lcags kyu gsum du brdungs // de gsum bzung byed rnam gsum lags // ’ jor dang rko ma zor ba gsum du brdungs // de gsum skod ’breg rnam gsum lags // sgo lcags lcags thag lcags sgrogs gsum du brdungs // de gsum sdom byed rnam gsum lags // lcags kyi rdo rje lcags khang man dzi gsum du brdungs // de gsum mchod cha rnam gsum lags // lcags kyi lhung bzed mkhar sil gsum du brdungs // dge shes btsun pa rnams kyi phyag rgya yin // lcags kyi phur pa dbang dang ldan pa ni // sngags pa rnams kyi phyag rgya yin // gce’u thur ma lcags bsreg gsum du brdung // de gsum sman pa rnams kyi phyag rgya yin // blang nga rgya gling sgor mo gsum du brdungs // de ni bsreg pa’i snod du bgyis // lcags rabs rdzogs sho //. Rauber-Schweizer 1976, Fjeld 2008. The blacksmith related content in the Tibetan cult of dam can rDo-rje Legs-pa appears to be completely different from what one observes in Himalayan shamanic tradition complexes; see Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 155- 159. Holmberg 1989: 30, 34-37, 70-73, Nicoletti 2006: 19, 85, Gaenszle 2000: 140 and the references cited therein. This social treatment contrasts with the mythical origins cited for some Kami groups who are said to be descendants of the ancient Indic deity Vishvakarman. For examples from the Nepal Himalaya, see Maskarinec 2008: 203205, 473-477, 483, Oppitz 2013, I: 104-105, 113, 146-147, 155-159, 164-166, 175-176, 224. See especially Popov 1933 and Uray-Köhalmi 1999: 123 and the references cited therein, Czaplicka 1914: ch. 10, and Balzer 2011: 80, 99, 198. Vasilevich 1957: 157 (cf. a slightly different version in Vasilevich 1968: 369-370) recorded this Evenki shaman song from the Sym River in 1930, which was chanted during an ikēnipkē “renewal of life” festival, and kindly retranslated from the original Russian for me by Emilia Sulek: Forging! Forging! Blacksmiths! How many blacksmiths have I, Men forging [for me]? What did they make for me? They made daguili for me. How many bellow blowers have I, Preparing metal parts? [Metal] shavings from planing [or filing?]

87 88 89 90

91 92 93

94 95

I will collect myself, And will make them sharper. How many tongs have I, Which do not lend themselves to the mushunam spirits? How many hammers have I? How many chisels have I, Which do not lend themselves to the mushunam? How many hammers have I, Which do not lend themselves to the mushunam? Concerning the performance context, Vasilevich 1957: 156 reports that on the day prior to ikēnipkē: “During the preparation of the ritual chum [or] dyūmī, some of the people built a shaman’s smithy where metal parts of the costume and the drum were made [...] Metal parts of the costume were made by men. Metal shavings were collected in a scarf. ‘Wala, a killer of human souls, is afraid of them’, as the Evenki said.” Then, on the first day of ikēnipkē: “During the shaman’s singing, all participants imitated work on preparing the shaman’s implements, doing everything the other way round, for example they ‘scraped skins’ using the other end of the scraper or [did it] in the opposite direction. Then, in singing, he [i.e., the shaman] listed all moments of work and all instruments.” (p. 157). This same mimicking of productive activities, including hunting and swidden cultivation is found in rites throughout the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s distribution region; see Huber 2015b. Rock 1955: 16, the formatting of clauses is mine. Rock 1955: 2. Stein 1972: 30-31, 62, n. 1, Stein 1961: 38 n. 96. Po-ju is Strickland’s recent usage that I prefer, but others have variously employed po-cu, pucu, paju, pa-ju, pa-chyu, pajyu, and so forth. It is highly likely the term relates to Tibetan pha jo, which is both a common designation for hereditary ritual specialists employing extensive oral literatures, and one that dates back many centuries, and a ‘father’ kinship term from southern Tibetan dialects. Strickland 2018, I: 270-272 item 28 Tsõ da. Huber 2015b: 223-228. For documentations of blacksmiths who are shamans, and shamans from the Kāmī blacksmith caste in western Nepal, see Maskarinec 1995 and Oppitz 2013, I: 155-158, 170-172, 175, and p. 361 on those from the goldsmith caste in Sikkim. On the method of manufacturing such pipes, see Davy 1945-1946: 34. Dga’ thang: 31-32, 127-129, f. 43, l. 1-45, l. 4.

7. R it e Tech n iqu e s of Bon Sh a m a ns 1

The phenomenon is not strictly limited to ritual specialists defined as ‘shamans’ in Asia. During the nineteenth century, Cherokee ‘medicine men’ in North America whom scholars identify as ‘shamans’ used the so-called Cherokee or Sequoyah syllabary invented by a Cherokee smith in the 1810s or 1820s to record their unique ritual texts in manuscripts and booklets; see Mooney 1892, Mooney 1932, Kirkpatrick and Kirkpatrick 1970 and the literature cited therein.

Notes to pages 227–242

2

3

4

5 6 7 8

9 10 11 12

13 14 15

16

17

There are possible exceptions. Gaenszle 2007: 66-67 describes the text-reading baidan type of makpa ‘shaman’ amongst the Mewahang Rai of east Nepal, although not enough detail is provided to compare them with other text-reading shamans mentioned here, nor any indication on the possible historical depth of the phenomenon. We also know that recently most of the oral narrative corpus of some Gurung/Tamu pa-ju (also po-cu, pucu) shamans have been recorded in written texts, and perhaps in future they are set to become textreading shamans, too. In addition to the list given here, there are several scripts in this region representing comparatively recent innovations, although the extent they are used by shamans or similar ritual specialists is currently unknown to me; see McKhann 2012: 275 n. 1 on a recent Lizu example, and also the comments of Michaud, He Limin and Zhong Yaoping 2017: sec. 3.2 on a scriptless migrant group from Muli who moved west to resettle in the north-western part of the Naish language zone and who created a new variety of Naxi syllabic script based upon a limited set of Naxi characters during the eighteenth century. For accessible, recent overviews, see the Naxi Pictographs section in Oppitz and Hsu 1998: 235-342, Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997 and the literature cited therein, Michaud 2011, Michaud, He Limin and Zhong Yaoping 2017: sec. 3.1-3.2, cf. also Rock 1963: Introduction. Wellens 2010: 193-200, see also anji texts and their use in the film Blood for the Gods by Schiesser, Gami Peiga and Tsering Drolma 2016.  Sun 2009 [1983], Zhang 2013: 24-27 picture 1.8. Névot 2012, Swancutt 2012 and Rock 1963: pl. V. Graham 1958: 64-65, see also Graham 1945: 57, Oppitz 2004: 38-39 and the four cover illustrations, Oppitz 2013, I: 517-519, Oppitz 2013, II: 1214-1217 Abb. 960-963. Michaud 2011: 93 map for distributions of the two Naxi scripts, cf. Jackson and Pan Anshi 1998: 239 Map 3. Wellens 2010: 193-200. Mathieu 2003: 146. See Evans, Pettigrew, Yarjung Kromchaï Tamu and Turin 2009. I thank Michael Oppitz for allowing me to examine his copies of these written versions of the pa-ju chants. I borrow the term from Scott 2009: ch. 6 ½ “Orality, Writing, and Texts.” Huber 1999: ch. 5, cf. also van Schaik 2007 on much older texts. rNa’u is a form of the Na clan name discussed in ch. 12, 16 and 18. Tha’u is a form of the name Tho’u-zhe (also mTho’u-bzhe, Tha’u-rje, bsDo-bzhi or lDa’u-bzhi) discussed in ch. 17. The name Yo-long can be compared with g.Yo-gdung for an old clan mentioned in an addendum to the Rgyal rigs: 51a-53b. This could be Dzala and Dakpa khra ‘hair’ (cf. CT skra), and the motif of primordial beings with turquoise hair occurs in older Tibetan mythical and ritual texts. In relation to so [read: gsol] lo here, and the list of other accoutrements, it could also be a variant of CT khrab ‘armour’, which is also supported in older written myths. Chi’i ne appears colloquial, with ’i merely a phonetic relic rather than an ergative. Chi could be for spoken thi/tshi ‘a, one’, but this seems unlikely? Ne occurs as a past tense marker following verbs, and in spoken Dzala ritual texts, it follows existential verbs in the phrase

hi/yin ne mi? ‘isn’t/wasn’t it so?’, and perhaps here, as elsewhere in this passage, chi is such a verb (cf. CT mchis)? Consultants had differing interpretations for the following rod rtse verbal construct, either ‘awaken’ or ‘arise’ (i.e., ‘to get up’ from sleep), reflecting spoken ruzi/rodzi, or rod has the same semantic range as CT sprod pa ‘give, supply, bring together, put together, to make to meet, to deliver, to set, to put’, etc. Perhaps ‘[Their] noble manifestation that was so, arose/was put together’ (sprul sku bzang po chi {’i} ne rod rtse)? 18 Rather than a proper name Byong-yul as the object of verb theg, consultants read this as the Dzala verb spoken jong, written byong ‘to emerge, come out of, appear, arrive’ (cf. Dakpa wong(u), CT ’byung ba and [’]byon pa), followed by a new sentence yul object + verb theg (cf. Kurtöp thek ‘insert’ reported by Hyslop 2017: 198, 258, 29, etc.; cf. CT thegs pa = ’gro ba); thus, ‘[They] arrived. [They] entered the country.’ 19 Tshal bu ’tshal la{m?} mras is unresolved. Consultants considered tshal bu ’tshal could relate to ‘grove [of trees]’ (CT tshal), and that the three dots above the single la could mark an omitted ma yielding lam, but were uncertain on both points. Tshal and lam would be logical here given the sa ‘ground/place’, rdo ‘stones’ and la ‘hills’ which are all objects of the Dzala verb rnam[s] (cf. CT nom[s], mnam[s]) ‘take possession of ’. 20 Byang kha med is unresolved. It may literally mean ‘the north without a border (kha ‘face’, ‘edge’)’, in the context of the rnam[s] verb series here; ‘[They] took possession of the earth, stones and hills. ‘[They] took possession of the borderless north and came!’ (sa rdo la rnams byang kha med rnam se ras sho)? 21 Ya is frequently a truncation of yang in texts by Dzala writers. 22 This orthography closely represents Dzala and Dakpa cibgyed ‘eighteen’. 23 Nyung ting should be read as ‘a few’ (here compared with mi la med ‘people without [any]’ in the line above), cf. Dakpa nyungk, khar-thi, Kurtöp dakti. 24 This name might be compared with g.Yo-gdung for an old clan mentioned in an addendum to the Rgyal rigs (f. 51a-53b). 25 Dotson 2013: 144. 26 The manuscript has seven numbered folios (recto/verso), but is missing its final page(s). Allowing for the usual non-standard spellings in such documents, its title, Bon gyi gsangs rabs dbu’ legs pa gcig bzhugsho, can be glossed as “Containing the Elegant, Extolling Purification Narrative of the Rite”. As is clear from the text’s content, dbu’ here is an abbreviated reference to dbu ’phang bstod pa, ‘to extol/ exalt the status’ of the deities being addressed. 27 For examples, see Rock 1948: 30 on Hò dshó hò á hò hò and Ho ho ho in Muân-bpò’ rites; Bhattacharjee 1983: 130 on Anja-Hoi in Idu Mishmi funerals lead by an igu; Gaenszle 2007: 271, 276-302 on longdrawn a-ha in Sara ṅdew rites of Mewahang Rai ritual specialists; Hardmann 2000: 152-154, 291-292 on ha: y! a:y! in chants for raising the saya ‘soul’ by the Lohorung Rai yatangpa; Höfer 1994: passim on a-a-a-a-a-a, aha-a-a-a-a, hoi, ho:y, ha:y, ha-a-a-a-ay, ho, ho-o-o-o-o-o, oho, in various chants of Tamang bombo. 28 Oppitz 2015: 517. 29 Spoken menchung (ususally written sman chung in local texts) means ‘young girl’, cf. also dialect menshar (sman shar) as parallel form of male tagshar (stag shar).

599

Notes to pages 242–245

30

Although no agent is indicated in the original, in all other written variants of this rabs the female character is the agent. 31 See the text edition and facsimile in appendix D. 32 Originally cag ra but probably rkya rags or chal rags? 33 Originally ’chim ’brog; the highland pastures of the mChims clan between the upper Yar-lung valley and Yar-lha Sham-po mountain. 34 On this place of origins in Tibetan narratives, see Blezer 2011, and its oldest appearance as a mythonym in IOL Tib J 732: 14 yul myI yul skyI mthIng. 35 The image of nine ravens is recurrent in Mongolian folklore and among the Darkhat and in Tuva as a set of messengers and auxiliary spirits of shamans; Birtalan 1995 [2009]: 26-27. 36 I read lto here as lho, in light of other lho mon rgya toponymic triads occurring in Old Tibetan ritual texts which we know share material with Srid-pa’i lha rabs, e.g., IOL Tib J 734: 4r161: thang nga ni rgya mo thang / dang tha nga mon mo thang dang tha nga lho mo thang, while the pattern repeats for objects and substances as well. 37 For ce sgo I read ces bsgo; on this antiquated verb see Jäschke 1881: 116, cf. BGT: 594, 632. 38 The recurring expression spos dang lan (also spos kyi lan elsewhere), literally the ‘response with incense’, is a carryover from versions of the longer Sel rabs myth, in which a particular ritual problem faced by the human protagonists is that they ‘cannot reply [to the lha] with incense’ (spos dang lan ma mchis) because they have none, while the first search motif module ends with the line spos dang lan ma snyed ‘the reply with incense was not found’. 39 Tsango 9: 12b, 2-13b, 4: spos dang blan ’tshol su gshegs na // ’theng po rkang med de dang cig // long pa dmig med de dang gnyis // lkug pa lce med de dang gsum // de gsum phyag na ci rnams na // spos glang khye’o khal du skal // cag ra ’dzo ru blo la rtags // de nas byon pa gang du byon // ’chim ’brog rgyal gong tsam du byon // shul du su dang ’phrad de ’ jal // sman rtsun ’phyug mo cig dang ’ jal // sman rtsun ’phyug mo’i zhal na re // ’theng po rkang med gar khyam zer // long pa rmig [13a] med gar ’gro zer // lkug pa lce med ci smra zer // ’theng po rkang med zhal na re // nyed kyi mi yul kyi mthing na // mi’u rigs bzhi snyung gis zin // de la cis kyang mi phan te // spos dang blan gyi gtab bzang ngo zer // spos dang blan ’tshol ’gro ’o byas // sman rtsun ’phyug mo des // phyag gi sor sdog gyis // ’thing ril de’i rkang pa cag // ’theng po rkang med de’i rkang pa byas // sdul bya phug ron lce bcad nas // lkug pa de’i lce tshab byas // bya pho rog dgu’i dmig ston nas // long pa dmig med de’i dmig tshab byas // de la ming dang mtshan rtags pa // rog rmig dge rkang sngon ma’i lce // [13b] khyed gsum de nas phar la rgol // la gsum ’di nas phar la rgol // lto la mon la rgya la gsum // la gsum rgal ba’i pha rol na // lto thang mon thang rgya thang sum // thang gsum rgal ba de shed na // ce sgo lhog se lhogs // de na ce sgo tho ro ro // spos dang glan sgo tho ro ro //. 40 Chos-dbyings Rang-grol, who sometimes has the title rtogs ldan, is locally said to have been a lama of Urgyen Wangchuk (r. 1907-1926), the first ’Brug rGyal-po, and his senior queen. He founded the monastery colloquially called Gönpakab (i.e., dGon-pa bKa’-babs Chos-gling, often mistakenly glossed as dGon-pa dKar-po by outsiders; e.g., Pommaret 1994: 663) on a spur high above the true left bank of the lower Khoma valley, where some of his relics can be found. His younger brother, O-rgyan Rang-grol, was the founder of Shag-shi[n]g-ma monastery on the ridge above Tsenkhar, between

600

41 42 43

44

45

46

the Kholong Chu and Drangma Chu rivers. In east Bhutan, both Chos-dbyings Rang-grol and O-rgyan Rang-grol are claimed as 17 th generation descendants of the early Tibetan gter ston Gu-ru Chosdbang (1212-1270). Shirokogoroff 1935: 374. See, for example, Galo Dictionary: 131 ɲoonam ‘cause an animal to come, either by calling/beckoning […] or by tempting with a treat.’ Gyer/dgyer texts do exist for monastic chants in the context of g.Yung-drung Bon, but as noted by Canzio 1986 and Canzio 1990 their use is fundamentally different, and describes but one of three overlapping ways to deliver a liturgical text in a g.Yung-drung Bon ritual setting: “it can be chanted (gyer), it can be recited by the utilisation of various intonation formulae (skad) or it can be simply read recto tono (’don)” (p. 52). Sounds related to animals are mentioned in that part of the Gzi brjid which summarises what was then known – and often chaotically and superficially reported – by its compiler of the practices of autonomous ritual specialists operating beyond the context of any institutionalised, salvational religion. The Gzi brjid redactor avoided gyer/dgyer and classified such chants as gcong or gcong skad ‘ululations’, a term which never occurs in texts of the Srid-pa’i lha cult; see Snellgrove 1967: 46-47. I had called them ‘tutelaries’ in some of my earlier publications, but this is insufficient since such beings have functions beyond acting as patrons and protectors, while ‘tutelary’ is often a gloss used by scholars for CT yi dam, a very different type of being within Tantric forms of Tibetan Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon. Snellgrove 1967: 295 nn. 32-33, 261 n. 59 states the various fivefold sets of deities and their correlates occurring in g.Yung-drung Bon, as set forth for example in the fourteenth century Gzi brjid, were “either modelled upon or taken directly from Buddhist lists [and] are totally Buddhist in terminology”. To my present knowledge, Snellgrove’s assessment is very likely correct since the oldest g.Yung-drung Bon schemes of five gsas correlated to the cardinal directions and centre appear to be no earlier than those in texts such as the ca. late eleventh- or early twelfth century Gzer mig, the dating for which is proposed by Gurung 2011: 3, 32, while Karmay 1998: 110 once suggested an earlier dating. In Old Tibetan documents, gsas are often mentioned in texts dealing with myths and rites together with bon, gshen, pha, rje, gar and other beings. They also appear equivalent to or paired with lha in certain Old Tibetan sources, just as they do in the role of auxiliary deities in Srid-pa’i lha worship. For instance, in a divination text we read of ‘a good/positive lha of the house, or a good/positive gsas [of] the paternal ancestors’ (khyim gi lha bzang po ‘am pha myes gsas bzang po, IOL Tib J 738: 3v44-45), noting that what appears to be an invocation to a Gar-gsas being, kye gar gsas ni btsan bzhugs pa occurs twice (1v57, 1v77) in this document. Single gsas or lha gsas pairs are often qualified as being drag, which probably means ‘strong’ or ‘intense’ in context. For examples, see Dga’ thang: 12, 99, f. 15, l. 9, and PT 1047, l. 297, 316, 318, and PT1134, l. 081, while drag also qualifies gshen in PT 1134: l. 016, 048, 087, 119. Recognising the diversity of gsas references in Old Tibetan, Rolf Stein described them variously as “deity or divine master” and also “medium” in different texts, noting that in the “later literature” (e.g., the Klu ’bum and Mdzod phug)

Notes to pages 245–249

different gsas appear named and parallel to the lha; Stein 1971: 507, Stein 2010: 123 n. 12, 254, cf. Martin 2001: 202 n. 60 on gsas po and gsas mo occurring in a late twelfth century Buddhist text, and perhaps meaning ‘spirit mediums’ (neither form is attested in Old Tibetan sources). 47 Höfer 1994: 21-22 n. 16, 23-24, 30, 42 et passim. 48 McKhann 1998: 43 n. 28, Rock and Oppitz 1998: 174. 49 Rock 1937, Rock 1952, I: 60-61, 151-152 n. 167, pls. III, IV; Rock 1952, II: pl. 45, Rock 1972, II: 202, 208-210, 216, 220, 229. 50 Jäschke 1881: 269 ‘to pray earnestly’, ‘to appoint’, ‘honour’. In Snellgrove 1967: 300 his expert Bon-po informants glossed bdar as ‘to invoke or pray to a divinity’, but only when referring to rites in the lowest two of the bon theg pa dgu in the Gzi brjid; e.g., gar gsas btsan po lha ru bdar, ‘invoke Gar-gsas bTsan-po as the lha’ (1967: 86). The term is frequently written brdar in local manuscripts. 51 Lawa 2, text 10: 35a,3-35b, 1: sku stod lte bas [read: ba] yan chod nas // lha rigs gsum rgya drug bcu bzhengs // sku smad lte ba man chod nas // lha mo gsum rgya drug bcu bzhengs // stod kyi rgal cig [read: tshigs] nas // lha rabs mched bzhi bzhengs // smad kyi rgal tshig [read: tshigs] nas // thang nga sman dgu bzhengs // phyag sor g.yas pa la // gsas chen rigs lnga bzhengs // phyag sor g.yon pa la // [35b] gsang ba’i yum lnga bzhengs // yan lag mgo lnga nas // ’go ba’i lha lnga bzhengs //. 52 Mkhas pa lde’u: 229-232, also Dga’ thang: 48, 157, f. 27, l. 5 and 49, 160 f. 30, l. 3 on Thang-nga rTsang-mo-thang, and Stein 1988: 46-47 and the texts cited therein. 53 See Mkhas pa lde’u: 232-233 on the ‘body part births’ of gNya’khri bTsan-po, sKar-ma Yol-lde and the sKye-po Lus-kyi-lha lnga brothers. Several of their names, such as Srog-lha Nyams-chen, sKulha Bre-dgu and mGur-lha Byang-zhur, resemble Srog-lha gNyanchen, Pho-lha Kya-dgu, and mGur-lha gSang-pa listed in our local manuscript, as though they had been recorded from an oral version of the written myth. 54 In addition to the mythical parallel of mountain and lake here, the grandparents of mtshe, namely a male rock (brag) and a female lake (mtsho), reflect two main types of Ephedra as classified by habitat in traditional Tibetan taxonomies. These are brag mtshe and chu mtshe; see De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 300, and Pasang Yonten Arya 2001: 293-294 who identifies them as Ephedra equisetina and Ephedra diffusum, respectively. 55 The Old Tibetan name rje Bla-bo Bla-sras appears in a ritual narrative concerning the use of Ephedra and barley in IOL Tib J 734, l. 3r088, 3r100, 4r165. Similar names, for a divine or wise (sgam) figure, appear in later ‘bon’-identified narratives. sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras is a semi-divine and wise ritual specialist in a narrative from the dGa’-thang manuscripts, see Karmay 2009: 71-73, 80-81 (note that the lHa-bo element already appears in the proper name of Khu lHa-bo mGo-gar, an imperial counsellor, in the Old Tibetan Chronicle, PT 1287: 65). sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras reveals himself as a manifestation of the dBal-gsas lha in the Skyung mo mda’ khyer gyi rgyud manuscript, see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 204 (= ff. 577-578). lHa-’o lHa-sras is one of the Srid-pa’i gShen-chen-lnga in the Mu ye pra phud phya’i mthar thug manuscript, see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 35 (= f. 3a), 42 (= f. 16a). sGam-lha’i lHa-sras is born of the union of ’O-de Gung-rgyal with Chab-ma sMon-mo-thang immediately at

56

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the end of the lha dgu list in Mkhas pa lde’u: 230, then in the same text (p. 236) sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras fathers the lha bon priest for gNya’khri bTsan-po when the latter arrives on earth. For still further references, see Dotson 2007: 25. Lawa 2, text 10: 36a, 5-38a, 3, with some readings from Gortshom 2: 8b, 1-4: bswo lha bzhengs gsas bzhengs kyang // lha gsas spyan [36b] mi drongs [read: drangs] // lha gsas than ma srings // lha dang gsas la than ma btang // lha gsas gnyan po spyan ’dren ’tshal // lha gsas spyan cig ’dren pa la // ’gyogs [read: mgyogs] po’i pho nya ma mchis so // ’gyogs [read: mgyogs] po’i pho nya mtshe cig stongs [read: thong] // mtshe’i mes po ba // gser brag rnams la zeng se zeng // mtshe’i phyi mo ba // g.yu mtsho sa la khil li li // pha ni mtshe pho rang rong lags // ma ni mtshe ma ’dzang [read: rdzangs] ’dzin lags // bu ni mtshe bu rus dgu byung // mtshe khrung cha ba sha ra ra // g.yu mtsho sngo dang lhag se lhag // de mtshe lha la than du gtong // gsas la phrin du nas cig gtong // [37a] nas kyi mes pho ba // mes pho gnam la phyi mo sa // pha ni drod la ma ni rlan // drod dang rlan la skyes pa’i bu // bu ni ’bru bcud las su byung // dang po gzigs pa sus gzigs na // lha bu lha sras kyis spyan mig legs par gzigs // phyags [read: phyag] g.yas thabs kyi bzung // phyags [read: phyag] g.yon shes rab kyi [add: bzung] // sngon mo mtshe’i chib nas tub [read: thud] // dkar mo nas lha ’bru ru bdud [read: ’dud] // lha bon gsang [read: gtsang] ba’i phyag tu phul // lha bon gsang [read: gtsang] ba ’dus pa yis // sngon mo mtshe’i rta chung la // dkar mo nas kyi mi chung skyon // ser mo skyems kyi phyag gyi [read: gis] brab // [37b] de mtshe lha la phrin du srings // lha dang gsas ni spyan snga na // sngon mo mtshe’i rta chung yang // skyas [read: skya] dang breng se brengs // dkar mo nas kyi mi chung yang // de mtshe dgal dang thod se thod // zhal nas than snyan si li li // lha mi’i gda’ [read: brda] sbyor phrin [read: ’phrin] las mdzad // mtshe nas zung cig de // snang med nam mkha’i dbyings su ’phen // dung gi seng ge bdun [read: mdun] du sprul // rdus [read: dus] gsum gshen lha ’od dkar mi ’byon spyan ’dren yin // snang med nam mkha’i dkyil ’khor nas // chos nyid ’od kyi gsas khang nas // gshen lha ’od dkar lha tshogs bya ba ’bum dang [38a] bcas te byon // mtshe nas zung cig ’di // shar phyogs na mkha’i dbyings su ’phen // gser gyis [read: gyi] stag gu bdun [read: mdun] du sprul // shar na gar gsas mi ’byon spyan ’dren yin //. IOL Tib J 734, l. 4r143-144 gives the names of barley’s father and mother as ‘head of river’ (chab bgo) and ‘lower tail of river’ (chab kyi ma zhug chab gzhugs [read: gshug]), with an upper male and lower female orientation, while the grandfather and grandmother of barley in the cult narrative are ‘sky’ and ‘earth’ respectively, and we read nas lha ’bru ru ’dud / and lha nas kyi bru bdun / in the respective texts. Dga’ thang: 6, 110, f. 8 l. 1-2: mtshe dang nyungs dkar dang / glas gangs dang / nas dkar mo gsal de / phyogs bzhI mtshams brgyad du gtor ro //. Cf. also n. 193 of ch. 4 for the line mtshe dang yungs kyis bsngags // in Dga’ thang: 17, 107, f. 23, l. 6 in which the verb bsngags also indicates the messenger function. IOL Tib J 734: 3r97-8: mtshe mo nyag cig ‘dab kyi sder gong [du?] gthur / de btang / na / [...] mtshe mo [nyag?] cig [‘]dab kyi sder gong [---] thur te btang / na; and 6r224-5: mtshe nyag cig [dang?] [yungs?] / dgang cIg ni sku glud du bor / /; cf. also the treatment of such passages by Karmay 2005: 37-44. The only old textual example I know of beyond the dGa’-thang manuscripts was cited by Bellezza 2008: 611 from the Mu cho’i khrom ’dur collection (original not seen by me), where ‘casting’ (gtor) of

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Notes to pages 250–257

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the plant is linked to ‘invocation’ (bdar): mtshe nyungs ’bru bdun gtor zhing / gshen rab yab kyi dbang lha bdar nas /. Gerke 2012 (2013): 347 cf. 349. The exact meaning of dar rtags (lit. ‘silk flag/banner’) in this context was not explained by my bon shaman informants. In other texts describing the lha host manifesting in the world, including upon the human body, a ‘sign’ or ‘proof ’ (rtags) is usually cited, e.g., the identity of a particular deity. Here I am assuming a similar meaning, in terms of a mental confirmation for the shaman to give him complete confidence. Lawa 2, text 10: 46b, 4-48b, 3; note the ablative nas as a common clause ending in the passage appears as na in parallel texts, and I read it in that latter sense here without emending each occurrence: bswo da ni lus la lha bkod ’tshal / sems la dar stags [read: rtags] ’tshal / sra ba’i gos gon ’tshal / spyi bo’i gtsug rum nas / gtsug gsas ’khor ba bzhug // [47a] spyi na ’dren pa’i lha // lha bzhug de la bcol // gsas bzhug de la bcol // rna mchog [read: lcog] g.yas g.yon na // gnyan gsas has po bzhugs // thos sgron pa’i lha // spyan mig g.yas g.yon na // mthong gsas sgron me bzhugs // ma mthong rgyang nas mthong pa’i lha // shangs kyi zom gong nas // shangs lha rum bu bzhugs // mchod rnoms [read: snoms] pa’i lha // tshems kyi ngos gong nas // za byed sbal po bzhugs // dgra bo yos ltar mcha’ [read: ’cha’] ba’i lha // ljags kyi yas gong nas // smra gsas [47b] thog pa bzhugs // bden rdzun byed pa’i lha // mgur gyi gsang rum nas // mgur lha gsang pa bzhugs // khu byugs gsung snyan sgrogs pa’i lha // stod kyi rgal tshigs nas // lha rabs mched bzhi bzhugs // lha rabs mched bzhi srid pa’i bu // smad kyi rgal tshigs nas // thang nga sman dgu bzhugs // srid pa’i lha dgu bzhugs // srid pa’i skyobs pa’i lha // dpung gong g.yas pa na // pho lha kya dgu bzhugs // par [read: phar] rtsal lus la rdzong pa’i lha // dpung gong g.yon pa na // dgra lha dar ma bzhugs // dam nyams dgra bo [48a] ’dul ba’i lha // thugs sdang [read: ldang] gong du // srog la [read: lha] gnyan chen bzhugs // tshe srog dus su ’dzin pa’i lha // lte ba’i gsang rum na // ma lha bu rdzi bzhugs // ma’i byams shing sring bas rdungs // spus gong g.yas pa nas // gtag [read: stag] gsas kho bo bzhugs // rno dgu lus la rdzogs pa’i lha // spus gon g.yon pa nas // gzig [read: gzigs] gsas thig le bzhugs // spa dgu ’dzom pa’i lha // ngar [read: nyar] sdong g.yas g.yon nas // g.yag gsas ngar ba bzhugs // theg chen khur ba’i lha // long bu g.yas g.yon [48b] na // ’dab chags rgyal po bya khyung dkar po bzhugs // bsdas [read: ’das] na bleb [read: sleb] pa’i lha // rkang ’thil g.yas g.yon na // klub gsas sgron me la bzhugs // bros na thar ba’i lha // lha bzhugs de la bcol // gsas bzhugs de la bcol // lus la lha bkod do // sems la dar rtags so // sra ba’i gos dkon [read: skon] no //. Dga’ thang: 51, 164, f. 34, l. 1, and 52, 167, f. 37, l. 3-4 and 54, 170, f. 40, l. 3-4. See Thomas 1951: 395 for the wording gsas chung on a wooden slip document from Miran where it appears to name one of the ritual specialists involved in rites for yul lha yul bdag and sman beings. Stein 2010: 71. Gaenszle 2007: 122, 186, cf. the pioneering work by Allen 1974 for Nepal. For examples, see Allen 1974, Dejarlais 1989, Forbes 1998, Gaenszle 1999, Gaenszle 2007: 269-305, Höfer 1994, Höfer 1997: Part II, Höfer 1999, Oppitz 1992, Oppitz 1999, Pettigrew 1999, Sagant 1996: ch. 15, de Sales 1991: 292-299, Strickland 1982: 231-251 and his references cited on p. 249.

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See Blackburn 2005, Blackburn 2010: 74-76, 184-192, 246-270, Gros 2012: 372-386, McKhann 2012. While Balikci 2008: 14-16, 354 mentions ‘ritual journeys’ in Sikkim, and Pommaret 2009: 130-131 a ‘guided journey’ in Bhutan, both of which are undertaken by pawo mediums between village and high mountain sites, their reports provide too few details for comparison with other ethnographies. Gaenszle 1999: 157-158, Oppitz 1999: 200. For examples, see Aisher 2006: 377-380, 378 n. 117, Shukla 1959: 113, 117-121, Blackburn 2010, Blackburn 2005, and cf. von Fürer-Haimendorf 1955: 145-146 and Srivastava 1962: 108-109. I recorded the same type of horizontal itinerary among the Mra of the upper Subansiri River valley for the Rialo rite addressed to ancestors for positive support (cf. the Nyishi Yallo), and also among the western Idu Mishmi for the Aruma Goyo itinerary chanted during the Brofee secondary funeral ceremony; see n. 87 below. The Shawa itinerary is recorded in the ritual text Gur zhi khug lugs dang lha khug gsol thang bab thang reb dar bzhugso, in the manuscript Shawa 2: 1b-8b. The itinerary itself demonstrates an intimate and accurate knowledge of the Kuri Chu valley route north into Tibet, but especially of lHo-brag local geography, with most sites there identifiable on map NH 46-13. McKhann 2012: 280-281, see Rock 1963: 175, 481. On Drung meŭsòq-wà rites see Gros 2012: 372-386. A Miju Mishmi Dao-reh rite filmed by Gerhard Heller as part of the larger Changrang ritual for protecting an individual male sponsor and his family. Daoreh is a nocturnal rite performed within the sponsor’s house next to the hearth by the chambring shaman (all of whom are Digaru Mishmi contracted by Miji households), who undertakes a verbal ritual journey vertically up into the sky world to obtain a life-promoting ‘medicine’ from the female deity Matai, which he administers to the household upon his return. He mimics climbing up to and back from the sky by way of an invisible cord during the performance. I thank Gerhard Heller for sharing his film and annotations on the Dao-reh from 6 March 2006, Latol village near Haiyuliang, Anjaw district, Arunachal Pradesh, India. Rock 1955: 147 cf. 106 describes Naxi funeral rites in which “the dtô-mbà escorts the deceased, the ox, the horse, sheep and yak to the 33 realms of the gods on high”, while the pictograph used for ‘escort’ in the ritual texts is bpú’ meaning “To escort a deceased person’s soul on high; escort the gods”; Rock 1963: 34. While ‘escort’ literally means to ‘accompany’, it is unclear from existing published accounts of Naxi funerals whether or not the dtô-mbà chanting these texts considers that he himself ‘goes’ in any ontological sense along on a soul journey together with the deceased’s soul. Rock 1937: 31-42 describes the funeral chant for a deceased dtô-mbà in which the primordial Naxi shaman, Dtô-mbà Shí-lô, vertically descends and ascends between the eighteenth level of ‘Heaven’ and the earth. Gaenszle 2007: 268-305. See Dotson 2008 for an analysis of Old Tibetan narratives in Dunhuang documents, including PT 1285 and PT 1060, and his comparison of the these rites with ethnographies of ritual journeys among the Magar and the Rai. See Höfer 1999: 238 n. 32 on the Tamang bombo, Strickland 1982: 231 on the Gurung/Tamu po-ju, and Blackburn 2010: 134-135 on the

Notes to pages 259–26

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Apatani nyibu, and whose study confirms my own data on the Mra nyibu shaman. Michael Oppitz pers. comm. 20 August 2013 reported on chanted rites by northern Magar ramma shamans, and pointed out the obvious contradiction that, “In trance the song lines could not be remembered and chanted.” See Yang Fuquan 1998: 190 on recent use of the ‘life god’s cord’ (ssú bbèr) in the Naxi marriage ceremony. Its special use in relation to the bride clearly indicates its relationship with the myth and symbolism of Muân bpò’ ceremonies, in which living trees feature, while they occur as components within the basket of the life god, together with the ritual peg, a ladder and a yellow oak tree, all of which are analogues of the ritual tree; see Yang Fuquan 1998: 199 pl. On premodern use and meaning of the ssú bbèr, see Rock 1952, I: 376 n. 759, Rock 1952, II: 551, and on the mythological origins of the ‘cord of the gods’( hà’ ggô ssú bbèr), see Rock 1963: 171, 285, and Rock 1972, II: 498 on the ‘cord of life’ (ssú bbèr). Sergei Shirokogoroff described the relevant part of a Manchu shaman ceremony from the 1930s as follows, “Two turö are erected in front of a wigwam (theoretically the same may be done in a spacious house) facing south. The turö are trees with big branches cut off, but surmounted by crowns. {...} A third turö is erected in a southern direction at the distance of several metres and connected with the eastern turö by a string, or narow {sic.} thong – s’ij’im ~ s’id’im [which is a “rope”; cf. sit’im (RTM), s’it’im (Yak. Pek.), also siji (Man. Writ.)] supplied at a distance of about thirty centimetres with bunches of ribbons and feathers of various birds. It may be made of Chinese red silk or of sinews coloured red. This is the “road” along which the spirits will move. On the string a wooden ring is put that moves freely from one turö to another. When sent by the “teacher” {i.e., the senior shaman} the spirit is located in the plane of the ring (jüldu).”; see Shirokogoroff 1935: 352 and the diagram, with my insertions in { }. Caroline Humphrey and Urgunge Onon described the equivalent part of an ominan festival staged by a Daur “clan-village”, and presided over by yagdan shamans, “at which all the spirits were invited to descend”: “The site of the ritual was at the shaman’s house, or at an open place where people erected a tent-like awning supported by a cartwheel raised on several cart shafts. Inside this structure, or just inside the door of the house, two leafy birch trees freshly cut from the forest were set up. [...] The two trees were called geri tooroo (‘house sacred trees’). [...] The trees had to be fresh and ‘alive’, but none of them had their roots buried in the ground; rather they were supported by stakes hammered in the ground. The stakes were called the ‘gold and silver gate’. Between the geri tooroo and the beed tooroo [trees] there was a red cotton rope (shuanna), which was said to be the road of the spirits. An iron ring was hung on this rope. The trees were said to lead the shaman’s spirit to the outer universe”; see Humphrey and Urgunge Onon 1996: 237, 239-240. Interpretation of the series of eco-referent noun + double-syllable adjective elements (gar gir, dam ldem, ban bun, ’ang ’eng) here and in other Lha zhu texts is a moot exercise with native speakers, with little room for dogma. The whole constructs are taken to be proper names by some (but not others), yet the most common idea is that they express qualities of motion manifest in visible or audible form, and I follow those in the first instance.

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Rmeg pi here is uncertain; the informant stated it might be dwarf bamboo or a cane-type plant. It cannot be smug pa ‘fog’ that occurs two lines down with its regular attribute sab sib. 81 Recorded from the Zangling bon po Tshering Lhamo at Nyimshong on 10 March 2012; transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen with Tshering Lhamo, and translated by Toni Huber. 82 For the same construction in Dakpa, Dzala and Kurtöp influenced Lha zhu texts, we find variously written gya, rgya, rgyal, rgyas, brgyas or brgyad, both with and without ablative nas or ke, to express colloquial ‘from above’, ‘atop’, ‘on top of ’; cf. spoken Dakpa chay in Lhama Wangchu 2002: 72 and spoken Kurtöp je, jedo in Hyslop 2017: 92, 116. In a Lha zhu manuscript from Bumthang Tang, rgyas stod is written for the same construction, which literate Bumthap speaking informants explained as equivalent to CT steng du. In the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript, the form gong du is used in the same type of itinerary. Note that Tshangla thung[ga] incorporated into bon shaman ritual itinerary names has a similar ‘above/on the top’ function as steng nas in those Lha zhu itineraries that feature more Tibetan usages. 83 PT 1134, l. 19, l. 22, PT 1038, l. 12 (see Spanien and Imaeda 1979, v. 2: pl. 312), Dga’ thang: 13, 101, f. 17, l. 2-4. 84 See Gaenszle 2007: 277-302 and 1999: 152-153, who also notes there is no implication of verticality in the verbs used; Gros 2012: 383-384. 85 For these usages cf. the CT verbs nyal implying ‘laying down’ while ‘resting’, snye ‘to lean back [on something]’, also ngal ba ‘tiredness’, ngal gso ba ‘to rest’ (lit. ‘to cure tiredness’) and Dzongkha ngal ’tsho sa ‘resting place’. 86 Blackburn 2005: 100. 87 This Aruma Goyo for the Brofee secondary funeral ceremony was recorded from the shamans igu Tadé Mihu and igu Sipa Melo on 25-28 December 2007 by Gerhard Heller and Toni Huber in Anini, Upper Dibang valley, Arunachal Pradesh. 88 Allen 1976: 44, 162, Strickland 1982: 236, and Michael Oppitz pers. comm. 20 August 2013 discussing the ramma ‘bird’ shaman associated with the monel pheasant among the northern Magar. Oppitz’s idea is supported by Gurung/Tamu ritual narratives (pé) in which a bird carrying a human hero flies an itinerary and takes certain enumerated ‘resting moments’ along the route; see Strickland 1982: 167-170. 89 In Gurung/Tamu ritual chants, the ‘resting place’ is né which also refers to ‘resting platforms of stone’ or stone shrines in uncultivated spots near the village; see Strickland 1982: 218, 236, 327, who derives the Tamu-kwi term newa exclusive to pé as ‘stepping, resting; - colloq. ne ‘step, resting place’. Multiple ‘resting places’ intersperse the ritual journey itinerary in the pe de lu da narrative ‘Going to fetch the soul’, Strickland 2018, I: 120-127 item 62 Plah ki-ni-wa, n. 106. See also the description of Thulung Rai mortuary rites in Allen 1974: 10-11, where at the same type of ‘stone resting place’ set up beyond the dwelling a ritual itinerary is walked and danced out at a series of ‘pauses’ (ngelung) along a route back to the dwelling. In the itinerary of the Saraṅdew chant, the ‘resting place’ also relates to the chanting process of the Mewahang Rai priest; Gaenszle 2007: 301. 90 See, for example, Gros 2012: 386 on a ‘spontaneous’ return itinerary in a Drung shaman’s sky-bound journey.

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Notes to pages 263–269

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The Yewang Chisöwen worship community is based upon the historical gTsang-mo rus (see appxs. 7 and 8), which is among the oldest founding clans in all of Dirang, plus various migrant elements, all divided into three exogamous, intermarrying branches with separate residential areas, and who form the ceremonial groups. The Tsangmupa (gTsang-mo-pa) appear to be the oldest, whose residential area has the chis narang altar in a sacred grove directly above it, and whose hereditary gampo must arrange the threads between the tree and altar as a ‘road’ to guide the deities down. The gampo (? CT sgam po ‘the wise one’) suggests the epithet of both the primordial messenger bat upon whose narrative the verbal ritual journey is partly modelled, and the designation of ancestral Phy[w]a sky beings. 92 Recorded during the two day Chisöwen at Yewang on 11 December 2011, and follow-up interviews during April 2012 with gampo Lobsang Tsering (81 yrs.). Note the Tibetan influence in the chant which is typical of all Srid-pa’i lha ritual language in Dirang, with do ‘stone’, chu ‘water’, cha ‘iron’ and khag ‘close’ instead of Dirang Tshangla lung, ri, perr and hak-tha respectively. 93 Cf. Blackburn 2010: 76. 94 On thung[ga] and CT steng nas, see n. 82 above. 95 This narrative has two sections, only the second of which is translated below. The first section (Karmay and Nagano 2002: 1 = 1b-3a) has a short Srid-pa’i lha cosmogony in which lha, humans and birds appear in the world. It names the four proto-clans well known from Tibetan origin myths (sMar Zhang-zhung, sTong Sum-pa, lDong Me-nyag and Se ’A-zha; cf. Stein 1961: 18-19), adding the Zhang-po or ‘maternal uncle’ as a fifth, and allotting each identity various lha as clan deities. These are not the five clan lha whom the five bird auxiliaries subsequently invite in the guided enticement journey (i.e., the cuckoo invites Srid-pa Gung-sangs, the bat Ye-mgon rGyal-po, the crane dGra-lha Yongs-phya, the parrot Mo-sman g.Yu-phyug, and the skylark Pho-lha sKyes-so). The generic, mythical five clan/lha scheme is used to form a precedent for five unnamed human clans related to these latter lha, and presumably, for whom the rite was composed. 96 This basic mythical scheme was also adapted by g.Yung-drung Bon authors. At the beginning of chapter four in the Gzer myig: 59-60 (cf. Francke 1926: 321-322), gShen-rab comes down to earth “descending through space like rain” (nam mkha’ las char bzhin du babs), accompanied by several sets of five Ye-gshen g.Yung-drung Sems-dpa’ beings, each of whom has a bird reference in its name. The bird name elements of the second set (nam mkha’ [lding], khyung, [bya] rgod, rma bya, khu byug), in particular, evoke the type of lists found in other myths. 97 The pha gi ne tso or “parrot who is father” here refers to the dominant ‘parrot patriarch’ (ne tso yab) who conducts much of the dialogue in related narratives about these birds in Srid-pa’i lha myths; cf also Gzi brjid, 2: 101. 98 In local Srid-pa’i lha rabs, the messenger bat sGam-chen Pha-wang usually carries a ritual arrow in his right hand and a mirror in left. 99 Text in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 1-2 = ff. 3a-4a. A translation of this section was published in Bellezza 2005: 211-212, although I do

604

not agree with all his readings or his division of the myth from the instructional verses therein. 100 In Sel rabs myths, the cuckoo has the ‘blue’ colour marker because it is turquoise-egg born (sometimes we read g.yu bya khu byug), not because the bird has this colour. In myth and poetry within the wider Tibetan cultural sphere, allusions to cuckoo overwhelmingly feature its call, not its colouring. This is already evident in Old Tibetan documents, for example see divination images in PT 1046B, 35-36 and PT 1047, 341-342. It is possible the turquoise associations with the cuckoo derive from actual birds. Cuculidae are common eastern Himalayan birds represented in my research region by at least six to eight species that are almost all brown to black in colouring. The most likely to have invoked a ‘turquoise’ description is a rare seasonal visitor usually confined to lower altitude sub-tropical forests, the Asian emerald cuckoo (Chrysococcyx maculatus). 101 For tshang ngo tshang ngo I read tshangs so tshangs so, with tshangs [pa] a form of gtsang pa/gtsang ma; BGT: 2252, Jäschke 1881: 445. In parallel Sel rabs used for Srid-pa’i lha rites, the forms tshangs and tshangs so (also the combination dag go tshangs so) regularly occur in relation to the cleansing effect of bird calls on the lha, for example see the text cited in n. 146 of ch. 9. 102 Text in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 2 (= ff. 4a-5a). 103 An otherwise unknown word, but note that I, also based on the thirtieth Tibetan consonant A, is a synonym of chang ‘beer’; Jäschke 1881: 606. Per Kværne (pers. comm. May 2017) pointed out to me that A-ti Mu-wer is the name of a deity in the context of Tibetan rDzogs-chen. 104 Text in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 3 (= f. 6a). 105 I read dang spro ’di na spyon / as dwangs spro ’di na byon /. 106 Literally ‘Lha depart, depart’ or ‘Lha come, come’, depending upon how one reads the cha ba/chas verb; cf. Jäschke 1881: 152. At Lawa in the lower Khoma Chu valley, when two assistants of the bon shaman wait on the ridge-top to greet the descending lha, they move around in a clockwise circle while loudly but melodiously chanting ‘Cha cha!’ to encourage the deity. 107 Coming directly after the reference to a swastika as rten here, the ’bru bdun formula probably means the grains which are often used to form such a symbol on the base of an altar or seat in local rites. The same formula occurs in Old Tibetan ritual texts; see IOL Tib J 734: 4r143, 4r165, 6r218, 6r259. 108 For gyang bu read rgyang bu/byang bu. This actually refers to a feature of the bon shaman’s headgear in some areas; see ch. 17 for further discussion of its meaning and origins. 109 Text in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 4 (= f. 8b-9b). 110 Text in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 5 (= f. 10b-11a). 111 See Stein 1971: 499, who identifies the sequence. 112 The translation, together with Old Tibetan etymologies for sne’u + kyad kyud, drang bu + sag sig and chab bu + chal chol, was kindly supplied by Joanna Bialek (June 2017, Berlin) from the manuscript of her forthcoming work. 113 Here written Me-la dKar-cung, with Melakharchung on some Bhutanese maps, but more commonly written Mon-la Kha-chung, literally ‘the small mouth into Mon’; see map 77 L, map L500 NH 46-13, and Bailey 1924 “Mönlakarchung”.

Notes to pages 270–279

114

From the Lha log byon chant recorded from bon po Kunley (65 years) of Trisa on 10 March 2012, transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen and translated by Toni Huber. 115 Jäschke 1881: 328 citing Schmidt. 116 van Driem 2007a: 77, Lhama Wangchu 2002: 31. 117 For examples of the technique among shamans, see Oppitz 2004: 35 fig. 47, Huber 2015b: 227, n. 20, Shirokogoroff 1935: 305, Popov 1933: 269, Hamayon 1995: 15, Janhunen 2003: 12, n. 29, and Oppitz 2007b: 96-97 on the variety of ‘spoon’-like drum sticks used by Siberian shamans for this divination. 118 See Ramble 2007: 700, where interpretations of the omens are also recorded. 119 Thempang 1: 8b, 2: ’bru sna ’bru gsum lag tu len // bon gshen rab mi bo mo btab pa /. 120 Snellgrove 1967: 30-31. 121 While gola (CT go la) means ‘sphere/ball’ in Tibetan, I know of no Kurtöp gang word that would be meaningful here. I assume gang probably reflects a loan from neighbouring Khoma dialects of Dzala, where kang refers to any ‘water gathering site’, usually a riverbank or confluence but also a spring. 122 For a Naga example, see Blackburn 2008a: 269 fig. 10 “A >family< of luck stones. The small, black, round stones are said to start families and have children. They were highly valued in pre-Christian times [among the Naga].” 123 Khau chung chö je. Ta cho ba cho. Rab chak lo! 124 Recorded 9 December 2012 at Zhamling from a senior male informant whose name I elect to suppress. Whether the tale reflects poor historical relations between the Buddhist lineage-holders and Srid-pa’i lha worshippers is not known. During the twentieth century, this was not the case, since the Khauchung Chöje site was an integral part of the festival processions up to the Rigsumtse hill above it during each Srid-pa’i lha festival. All worshippers of Srid-pa’i lha in Kurtö are Buddhist and most faithfully follow the Pad-gling tradition. 125 Compare this list from Tabi with a ritual text from neighbouring Shawa, where a section entitled la’i rmi lam bzhugs so has these animals and birds listed: khwa ta ri, rta, wer khyi, sku hung and glang chen; Shawa 2: 27a, 2-3. 126 See Huber 2015b on the kengpa and other rites related to swidden cultivation and hunting. 127 Bleiting 3: 33a, 7-33b, 1: dam snags bzab mo gnying khu ba ’di / ’di gnyid gzhan la ma tan nga’i zhus //, which I read as: gdam snags zab mo snying gyi khu ba ’di / ’di nyid gzhan la ma btang nga’i zhus //. 128 Dga’ thang: 18, 109, f. 25, l. 6, cf. also 31, 126, f. 42, l. 8. 129 For examples, see: PT 1134, l. 34-35: pa ngag gshen ngag tshig gsum, and l. 137-138: pa ngag tshig / sum /, and l. 140: pa ngag tshig sum /; PT 1194, l. 61-62: ngag tshig gsum; PT 1285, v124: tshig gsum bsngags. 130 See especially Karmay 1998: 310-338, Gerke 2012 and the extensive literature cited by both of these authors; cf. Stein 1972: 226-229. 131 The verb btsugs and its forms (’dzugs pa, gzugs pa, tshugs) can also mean ‘to fix’ or ‘establish’ something in place, which is relevant in the present context.

132

133

134 135

136 137

138

139 140

141 142

143

Recall here Strickland 1983: 230 on “the custom among the Gurungs of placing the hands to the head while saying shya’i ‘caught’ so to hold someone’s soul back if he is temporarily shocked.” See Dotson 2013: 332-333 for PT 1134: 43-46, with the wording krung krung ni sngo rdol na / brdung du / bgar ma ‘tshald / in l. 45 omitted. Bialek 2018, 2: 319, 424-425 has now established that mtshe gzugs in this context literally refers to an ‘Ephedra stalk’. See examples in IOL Tib J 734: 3r107-108, 6r224-225, 7r289, cf. Stein 1971: 507-508 and Dotson 2008: 58 on nyan as ‘effigy’. Also written ’ jag ’dzugs/gzugs/zug/tshugs, and sometimes with ’ ja’ “rainbow” for ’ jag in various sources. This appears particular to the ’Bri-gung-pa school, and involves planting a stalk of grass (’ jag ma) upon the crown of the head to test whether the fontanelle has been opened by the ’pho ba practice, such that at the time of death the consciousness principle may smoothly exit the body; see Kapstein 1998: 98-100, 180 nn. 23-28 and the further references noted therein. Perhaps significantly, the origins of the practice are claimed for a fourteenth century rNying-ma-pa context in Dwags-po, not far from the northern Mon-yul Corridor; see Cuevas 2003: 91-92. Martin 1991: 118-137, Martin 2001: 63 n. 31, 88 n. 18, Vitali 2008: 388-392. See the Xin Tang zhu description of “sorcerers” (wu) with bird (feather) hats and tiger(-skin) belts striking drums at the court of Khri Ral-pa-can; from the translation by Pelliot 1961: 130. For example, PT 1136, 28 has dbul [read: dbu la] bya ru khyung ru ni btsugs for a horse as the subject; cf. also PT 1134, 118: glad la ru btags sna bya ru ’ong ’ong for a Phywa (pywa) being in a myth as the subject; PT 1194, 45: cha yang gsas kyi glad la bya ru khyung ru ’ong ’ong for a gsas (or cha yang gsas?) being. This meaning does crop up in the context of g.Yung-drung Bon, for example bya ru used as a head-piece of a priest in the Rgyal rabs bon gyi ‘byung gnas; see Martin 1991: 125, Martin 2001: 195, and Vitali 2008: 388-392. Compare Zhangzhung: 164: bya ru = bya khyung gi rwa. Stein 2010: 147 referring to PT 1640. A description written in 1260 of a lay religious figure, Bal-po Ka-ru-’dzin, states that after becoming possessed by rGyal-po Pe-har, he “wore a meditation hat upon his head, planted a feather on it, and donned a brocade cloak” (mgo la sgom zhu gyon / de la bya spu btsugs lus la za ber gyon); see Martin 1996: 27-28 n. 11. Chuan-kang Shih 1998: 115 plate, cf. Zhang Xu 1998: 135 on the psychopomp horse in Naxi funerals. The Pla festival of Lawa is staged over six non-consecutive days and nights every second year during the eleventh lunar month. The schedule during my 2012 recording of the event was this: lHa’bab-ma on day two of the eleventh lunar month (= 15 December, although normally it is on day three which was deleted from the astrological calendar for the chu pho ’brug year); dMangs-lha tshogs on the ninth day (= 21 December); Ri-gsum-rtse on day twelve (= 25 December) which was the second day two that year since it was doubled in the astrological calendar); lHa-mchong-ma on day thirteen (= 26 December); Khrom-ma-rgyan on day fourteen (= 27 December); Pa-lo Yar-bzheng on day fifteen (= 28 December). Located at 27°41’09.7”N, 91°11’56.7”E, at 2255 metres altitude.

605

Notes to pages 279–289

144 The spelling of spoken Lhau at Lawa is uncertain. lHa’u, or its cognate lHo’u, a common regional diminutive of the clan name lHo, are the most likely candidates, while in the Rta rabs text used for the Lawa Pla festival, the village (yul mo) name is recorded as La-’og. The three spellings above all recall older names in the Tawang region, such as La-’og Yul-gsum and lHa’u (i.e., Lhau) Kham-pa, attested in much older historical texts. They also recall the place name locally pronounced Lhau (lHo on map Tibet 1981, Lao on map Taylor 1947 and map U502 NG 46-1) in the upper Kholong Chu valley in between. A parallel case of names is the village currently pronounced Shawa not far from Lawa up the Kuri Chu valley, which is written She’u in local documents, and recalls the site known as Sha’u, Sha-’ug or Shao (map Tibet 1981 cf. ch. 1 n. 58, map U502 NG 46-2, Ye-shes ‘phrin-las 1983: 141) at the ancient g.Yo-ru boundary between southernmost Mon mTsho-sna and Tawang district. 145 All of Lawa’s residents are at least nominally Buddhist. They mainly follow the village-based forms of rNying-ma-pa Buddhism found throughout eastern Bhutan. In this region, I found that Buddhism rarely plays any explicit role in distinguishing local community identities, unless a specific institution is associated with a particular settlement or household and its own sense of history. An example is the presence of a chos rje or chos rgyud gdung rgyud family and their lineage temples, or having a well-known holy place of pilgrimage located nearby. 146 The site is first mentioned in 1498 by Padma Gling-pa, as rGang-zur (Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 119b, 5) or sGang-zur (Karma Phuntsho 2015: 225). Until two generations ago, Gangzur had a specific economic and cultural importance in this region as a centre of clay cooking pot production. This was completely undermined by modern availability of cheap metal pots from India. 147 See Rgyal rigs: 23b, 27a, on Wang-ma ’Gab-sde-btsan’s invitation to sGang-zur-stod. 148 Wang La, also called bDud-btsan Nag-po in Buddhist ritual texts, is typical of the btsan territorial deities throughout Khoma and his worship text is completely standard for this type of cult as shaped by Buddhist lamas. 149 The Taya Gap named Sherab was a signatory to the oath of allegiance document supporting Urgyen Wangchuk’s ascension as ’Brug rGyal-po (see l. 14, Gling gnyer rta ya rgad po’i thi’u [seal]; cited from a copy of the document held at the Centre for Bhutan Studies, Thimphu; cf. translation in White 1909: 227). Gap Sherab was succeeded by his son Gap Zangla, who enjoyed influence until the Third King’s reforms of the mid-1950s, followed by Gap Gonpo, and Gap Urgyen, who was the last Gap so-titled, and the elder brother of the present head of the Taya Gap household. 150 BGT: 1606, Jäschke 1881: 601. 151 This refers to the threads laced between the side arms, but also the white nam bu cloth used in the past to make the covering of the palo at Lawa. Elderly Lawa informants recall fine white Tibetan nam bu being imported from lHo-brag in exchange for dried red chillies from Khoma and Kurtö. 152 Rtse here means rtse gcig tu dril, the teasing out and rolling of wool fibres into a single strand ready to spin.

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153

Zhu < zhud pa can mean ‘to spin’, but here ‘to hang up, to suspend’ the skeins of yarn before it is woven; see Jäschke 1881: 477. 154 Ran < ran ma ‘warp’, see Jäschke 1881: 228: thag ran che, ‘to begin the warp’; BGT: 2661 ran ma = thags kyi rgyu’am / gzhung skud /. 155 Spun gyur < spun rgyu, see Jäschke 1881: 667 spun = ‘weft’; BGT: 1658 spun = thags kyi ‘phred skud / thags kyi rgyu spun /. 156 Lawa 1, text 10: 12b, 5-14a, 3: da ni spa lo rabs cig bshad // phu la gyis [read: skyes] kyi wang bu ni // ’khrungs lugs yag [13a] pa de dang gcig // rtsa ba rten [read: brtan] pa de dang gnyis // bar ma phrang pa de dang gsum // rtse mo legs pa de dang bzhi // bcad lugs yag pa de dang lnga // bzo ba yag pa de dang drug // de yang spa lo’i khongs shing yin // nags la skyes kyi snyug ma ni // ’khrungs lugs yag pa de dang gcig // rtsa ba rten pa de dang gnyis // bar ma phrang pa de dang gsum // rtse mo legs pa de dang bzhi // bcad lugs yag pa de dang lnga // bzo ba yag pa de dang drug // de yang spa lo’i sbyangs [read: phyang] shing yin // bod kyi snam bu dkar po la // bal bcad [13b] lugs yag pa de dang gcig // rtse lugs yag pa de dang gnyis // khas [read: khel] lugs yag pa da dang gsum // zhu [read: zhud] lugs yag pa de dang bzhi // ran lugs yag pa de dang lnga // thag lugs yag pa de dang drug // kha mdog bzang pa de dang bdun // de yang spa lo’i nang rgyan yin // rgya yi dar rnams ber rnams yang // dar rtse lugs yag pa de dang gcig // khas [read: khel] lugs yag pa de dang gnyis // ran lugs yag pa de dang gsum // thag lugs yag pa de dang bzhi // spun gyur [read: rgyu] yag pa de dang lnga // kha mdog bzang pa [14a] de dang drug // gnas ma ’phrang pa de dang bdun // de yang spa lo’i phyi rgyan yin // yul gyi bya pho ’tshal lugs ni // bya pho skyem [read: khye’u] ’khungs bzang pa de dang gcig // bog [read: ’bod] skad bzang pa de dang gsum [read: gnyis] // spu kha bzang pa de dang gsum // de yang spa lo’i rtse rgyan yin // de ni spa lo rabs cig rdzogso //.

8. Ot h er R it ua l Per for m er s i n t h e Cu lt 1

From among many examples, see: the khye’u pho mo gtsang ma gnyis and khye’u gtsang ma references in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 2, 4, 5 (= 4a, 8b, 12a); Richardson 1993: 108 on procession order in the lHa sa ’ong bskor circumambulation of fields in the villages, in which after the nakpa ritual specialist comes “a smartly dressed girl and boy representing the Pawo and Pamo (“Hero and Heroine”), the luck bearers of the village, carrying arrows in their hands; then come the landowners”; Huber 1999: 88-89 on children participating in divination rites at Tsari; Gorer 1984 [1938]: 235-239 on the Mayel people as Lepcha progenitors and ancestors to whom “virgin children” must offer the lafét sacrifice of a small bird; Dotson 2013: 268-269, 365-366 on the narrative in the Old Tibetan Chronicle of the child Ngar-la-skyes and the ‘man-bird’ (myi bya) child ransom set in southernmost Tibet in rKong-yul along the lower rTsang-po river; the motif of the three boys (byis pa) from Mon covered with feathers in the Mkhas pa lde’u: 237 redaction of the myth of gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s descent. In general, children feature strongly as central figures in most clan and lineage origin myths from the same region, regardless of whether they are earlier narratives (e.g., the Rlangs po ti bse ru rgyas pa and the Rgyal rigs) or

Notes to pages 290–309

2

3

4 5 6

7

8

9

10 11 12 13

14

contemporary ones as reported in this study, and the motif may well be related to an older anthropogenic one featuring primordial mi’u or mi’u chung ‘little humans’ who feature as children in the same motif in parallel mythologies, such as narratives the Naxi maintain. For example, for bro the spoken and written form bros is used among Kurtöp speakers, boro is found among Chocha-ngacha speakers (Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 137), Dorji Penjore 2004 reported a local Khengkha form protalalo for those who chant and ‘dance’ procham (i.e., CT bro ’cham), while the Sherdukpen form bropo ‘dancers’ (Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 56, pl. XXV) follows the bro form found among Dakpa speakers and those communities with Dakpa influenced ritual texts, and cf. the Bugun form buru pho (Pandey 1996: 84). For descriptions, see Duncan 1964: 193 for the eastern Tibetan Plateau, and Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 407 for the upper Subansiri River and Tsari region. The account by Das 1998 [1902]: 170-171 for Central Tibet only has the oath-swearer sitting upon the skin of the freshly killed animal. Bloch 2008. Shirokogoroff 1935: 326. While some Tshangla speakers often insist this comes from the colloquial word ‘fuck’ (wa) in their language, this is mere coincidence, or at least the semantics overlap nicely. The data do not support the interpretation, in any case. In the ritual context of Srid-pa’i lha worship – which has no autonomous history throughout the Tshangla speaking zone – it is always wa yo as a bi-syllabic, never wa alone, that is chanted, and the expression is most common across the whole East Bodish language zone where Tshangla barely, if at all, features. See ch. 17 for a hypothesis on the origin of wayo. Compare the comment by Tashi Choden 2004: 16-19, “The exact meaning of the word wayo could not be explained by anyone in Gortshom”, which surely represents a methodological artefact of ‘polite’ fieldwork encounters with a young female researcher from a central government institution; the content of the “wayo couplets” she herself recorded are exclusively concerned with genitalia and intercourse. Interestingly, the Gurung/Tamu word to describe deer copulation in ritual texts chanted by the shaman is pyo-wa; see Strickland 2018, I: 191 n. 377. During Sherdukpen Khiksaba festivals, the Aoo hee! neighing sound of a sacred horse related to fertility is constantly intoned by a group of child performers; Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 101-102, 104. See also Lham Dorji 2004: 36 for similar stamping performances in Kheng and the alternative interpretation given therein. See the example from Kheng in Dorji Penjore 2004: 68, cf. 53, 56 on the lhagor. Hamayon 2001, Hamayon 1995 and Hamayon 1992. Related local cognates are nyi zi for ‘wife’ and azim for both ‘mother’s younger sister’ and ‘co-wife’. In Dakpa, zhomu means both ‘younger sister’ (and ‘daughter’) and serves also as a general term for ‘woman’. For example, Sherdukpen zizi (or jiji) are married to their tutelary spirits; Sharma 1961: 75. At Rahung, the mashee performer – a prepubescent boy who experiences possession or embodiment by the clan deity – is also said to be married with a female forest spirit.

15

16

There previously were many more zi in Dirang district. My research revealed the last surviving zi at Dirang Busti were drawn from the Sertipa clan (i.e., as zi to Ata Bangley), the Peichulpa clan (i.e., as zi to Ata Dumphu), and a Tsangmu clan sub-lineage residing at Damla in Yewang (i.e., as zi to Ata Nubcha); cf. the data from Thempang in ch. 11. On this type of garment, see Myers 1994: 106-116, pls. 5.17, 5.19, 5.20, 5.27, 5.28.

R efl ect ions I 1

My forthcoming study “Excursus on Ephedra as a ritual plant between the Himalayas and Central Asia” compares the plant’s use as a ritual strew, together with headgear made from pelts of Mustelidae, ritual arrows and wooden phallic symbols in the cult with occurrence of the same set of ritual features in archaeological data from Central Asia. 2 On Ephedra used as a ritual weapon (zor) or ‘whipping substance’ (thun rdzas), see Cantwell 1989, Portfolio of Supplementary Materials, diagram of The Great Red gTor-ma, p.10, Cantwell and Mayer 2007: 171 n. 58, 261, Cantwell and Mayer 2008: 111 n. 129, BGT: 2317 mtshe zor and 2473 zor, De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 300. On Ephedra as a ‘ransom item’ (yas rtags) for a glud rite, see Snellgrove 1967: 36. On Ephedra as one of the ‘four nectars’ (rtsi bzhi) for essence extraction (bcud len), see Gerke 2012 (2013): 347 cf. 349, also a forthcoming article and comments upon it by Cathy Cantwell pers. comm. 27 July 2017 who describes a gter ma text discovered by Rig-’dzin rGod-ldem in which mtshe is one of the four bdud rtsi for a bcud len practice.

9. Th e Lh a moch e Fe st i va l of Tsa ngo 1

2

3

Located at 27°45’57”N, 91°17’29.35”E, at 2585 metres altitude. On Bhutanese and European maps that show the site, the name is often incorrectly inscribed “Sawang”, “Tsawang” or “Tsewang”. In local texts, it is written rTsa-ngo, rTsang-rgo and brTsang-ngo, and pronounced ‘Tsa ngo’ by local inhabitants. The five-fold Khoma collective of villages (Khoma, Baptong, Lingdung, Bleiting and Bepa) ceased celebration of their joint Srid-pa’i lha festival in 2013, due to lack of a ritual specialist. For example, the main sacred grove and lha shing, as well as some important cult stones, used by the five-fold Khoma collective for inviting the Srid-pa’i lha to earth are all situated next to the ruins of old Shekhar, quite some distance from any of the current five settlements making up the collective. The legend of their ritual specialist’s lost horn (um) is that it flew through the air from Shelkhar when that site was destroyed by fire.

607

Notes to pages 309–317

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

608

The Khoma valley’s several Dzala dialects are locally called ‘Khomakha’ in the downstream villages. Dzala still requires detailed linguistic study. Initially, van Driem 2007a treated it as a separate language that, together with Dakpa, formed a coherent sub-group within East Bodish. More recently, Hyslop and Karma Tshering 2010, Bodt 2012: 288-290 and Hyslop 2013: sec. 3 and fig. 2 have promoted the idea that all Dzala and Dakpa dialects are better grouped as a single language. In Khoma dialect, kang refers to a ‘water gathering site’ usually at a riverbank, a confluence but also a spring; cf. the spelling Khyomakong on map 78 M/6. The name means ‘small ding.’ In Tibetan, the term lding typically describes social units of pastoralists, and it is used for various communities throughout the Dzala and Dakpa speaking zones. A small community of pastoralists living higher up the Khoma Chu valley are named Rong-ma-lding, while the collective of six pastoral units in the Dakpa speaking parts of the Nyang-shang (i.e., Nyamjang) Chu valley of far western Tawang are the sPang-chen lding-drug. Settlements and number of households in the combined worship community are: Khomakang 8; Dingchung 6; Laber 3, plus several families from Laber who moved downstream to neighbouring Khetong village. During a follow-up visit to Tsango in late 2014, I noted a strong steel cable had been used to carefully replace the traditional white cord. The residents pragmatically decided this was easier than having to reinstall the lha zam every other year when it decayed. Thus, it might now easily be mistaken for a simple flying fox to transport goods over the river rather than the ritual device it actually is. In the valley above Nemkhar (Monkhar on maps), which is the site of a small temple associated with the Tibetan gter ston Ratna Gling-pa along the true left bank of the Khoma valley, there are extensive ruins of stone houses in the forest. The site is now called Khambro which means ‘stronghold ruins’ (mkhar ro). Just downstream, other small, populated hamlets on higher slopes at both Laber and Khetong may be derived from the abandonment of this ruined settlement since they have no arable land and became share-croppers on fields a few kilometres further downstream. Still more overgrown ruins of a village once known as Shekhar (Shel-mkhar) are found immediately below the monastery and settlement named Gönpakab (i.e., dGon-pa bKa’-babs Chos-gling) in the lower Khoma valley, also along the true left bank. Near the ruined village of Shekhar below Gönpakab monastery, the cutting of a new road using a bulldozer recently unearthed a collection of human skeletons, which may indicate burial following deaths due to an epidemic. One can note here that the permanent main route up the valley formerly followed the true left bank of the river, and only switched to the true right bank during modern times. The area is cool and relatively high, with buckwheat the most successful premodern crop and millet possible. Most slope cultivation in the upper Khoma valley was previously done by swiddening, but the Bhutanese government recently prohibited this due to ecological concerns.

12

13

14 15 16

17

18

19 20

21

22 23 24

25

Descendants of migrants from Khoma valley can be found around Shagshigma high above the Doksum confluence, and a few in the upper Gamri Chu valley. Their family histories all point to migration events occurring about a century ago. For an excellent and accurate account of premodern taxation in Khoma, one that matches all the oral accounts and local documents I collected myself, see Karma Ura 2011 [1995]: chapter 8. The route is described in Fletcher 1975: 34-37, pl. 12 opp. p. 37, map 2 p. 29. Rgyal rigs: 36a. Aris 1976: 625 n. 61 already noted, “In Bhutan, however, with the exception of various districts in the east, clan and family names are non-existent and instead place-names are used in front of personal names to distinguish people.” This is not to say that uterine descent is not significant, just that it does not transmit named mi brgyud identities over time. At Tsango, people explain pha brgyud determined by transmission of ‘bone’ (rus pa), and ma brgyud by transmission of ‘blood’ (khrag), which then becomes ‘flesh’ (sha) and hence ma brgyud is ultimately identified with ‘flesh’ transmission. Guntram Hazod pers. comm. December 2013 considers the Shar name may be related to Sha/Sha-mi, a Tibetan clan from lHo-kha, as is even more likely the case with the Sha-ro clan listed in the Rgyal rigs (see appx. G). But note also that in some early sources on the g.Yo-ru the name Yar-[k]lung[s] is written Shar-po; see Hazod 2009: 208. Shumo/Shumu (= Sho[-mo]?) is a known Tsho-gsum clan based in Seru village at Tawang. Zo-ra Ra–skyes (also Zur-ra Ra-skyes, Sur-rwa Ra-skyes) is mentioned already by Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 103, 3-4 as gter bdag Zo-ra Ra-skyes as the deity of nearby mKhan-pa-lung in 1488 or 1489, and in various older myths; see Aris 1979: 40, 46, 61, 81, 301 n. 4. The mid-late fourteenth century Btsun mo bka’ thang lists mKhar-chu of lHo-brag and Seng-ge-rdzong of Mon-kha Ne-ring among the eight caves of Padmasambhava; Sørensen, Hazod and Tsering Gyalbo 2005: 108, n. 276. The rNying-ma-pa teacher Me-long rDo-rje (12431303) practiced meditation at mKhan-pa-ljongs, Seng-ge rDzong, and mKhar-chu in what must have been the late thirteenth century; Roerich 1979: 196-197. The villages of Nyalamdung, Lugchu and Gönpakab are all associated with the cult and lineage of Gu-ru Chos-dbang, while Kharphu and Khetong are Ratna Gling-pa sites. The idea comes from Joanna Bialek 2018, 2: 65 n. 4, 66 who includes ’gebs, ’kheb, gab, sgab, ’gab, ’khab and khebs in this word family. See analysis of the rje dbyal compound by Bialek 2018, 1: 64-72, who also notes the same process for brang. Kharpu has been the subject of folk etymologisation based upon khar and pu elements. For local Khengkha and Chocha-ngacha kharpu/ kharphu[d] etymologies, see Dorji Penjore 2004: 50, Dorji Penjore 2008: 271 n. 2, Dorji Penjore 2009: 169, Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 126. If anything, the Kharpu name is more likely related to the older lha identity ’Khar-phu associated with sites in lower Kurtö; see ch. 16. In ritual texts from Tawang, the same name is written Phrongphrong-me, with mes ‘ancestor’ substituted for the zhe used further west; see Hoongla 5: 48b, 3.

Notes to pages 317–332

26 While Dzamling refers to ‘the world’ (’dzam bu gling) in this purely oral chant, the exact meaning of ‘shida’ remains unexplained. 27 On the same use of bamboo in premodern Qiang rites, see Torrance 1920: 34. 28 On Shutimo, see n. 89 of ch. 3 and fig. 1. 29 Brauen 1994, Brauen 1997, Pain and Deki Pema 2004. Legal reform (i.e., the Thrimzhung Inheritance Act of 1957) granted equal inheritance rights to all siblings, yet practice of customary daughter inheritance often persists alongside the modern law. 30 For Gunlha (dgun lha, literally ‘winter lha’) on the twelfth day of the eleventh month, the lhami and a man representing one of the five sponsor households (a role rotating among the five every second year) proceed to the Tashiding dongthan at Tsango and make an offering to Gurzhe. On the fourteenth day, the same two persons must go to Kupilang dongthan and offer a mock sheep sacrifice using a replica animal exactly as is done every other year on the fourteenth day of the eleventh month during the actual Lhamoche festival (see the account of Festival Day Four below). 31 During the days immediately preceding this, the third, sixth and seventh days of the eleventh lunar month, the lhami goes downstream along the Khoma Chu to the Laber hamlet to celebrate a small version of the festival called Gunlha involving the same main deities as at Tsango. 32 Community sentiment not to break the traditional connection with this site has been very strong. The same Budeling house ruins, covered with a temporary roof, were also used as the storage place for all the ritual paraphernalia employed in the Lhamoche, that is, until some passing travellers removed the horn and took it up to Seng-ge rDzong (from where it was later recovered). All the equipment was then moved to the house of the lhami for safekeeping. 33 Next to the ruins of old Shelkhar village in the lower Khoma Chu valley, near the sacred grove of lha shing trees used during Srid-pa’i lha festivals celebrated by the five village Khoma collective, there exists an old stone mortar and pestle. It is believed that during drought, it will rain when the pestle is inserted into the mortar there. 34 The Geng La (4937 metres, also marked ‘Gong La’ and ‘Kang La’ on the maps) and Bod La (4968 metres) passes connect the Seng-ge rDzong basin at the headwaters of the Khoma Chu in Bhutan with lHo-brag in Tibet; see maps U502 NG 46-1 and L500 NH 46-13. 35 Ung-bsdus [possibly = dBang-’dus?] rDo-rje Chang-chen is a local territorial deity further up the Khoma valley. 36 Both unidentified. 37 The lhami omitted the two lines in parentheses; I have supplied them from the standard gsas ru bzhi dbus lnga scheme found in various texts used for Lhamoche and other Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals (see appx. E). 38 Stag pa is usually Rhododendron przewalskii, among the ‘nine father trees of sunny slopes’ (bdag shing pha dgu); see n. 105 of ch. 2. 39 Glang ma, a willow of the genus Salix, among the ‘nine mother trees of shady slopes’ (srib shing ma dgu); see n. 105 of ch. 2. 40 Tamarisk or Tamarix spp., one of the ‘nine son trees of valleys’ (lung shing bu dgu); see n. 105 of ch. 2. 41 Transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen with clarifications by Tshewang Dhondup and lhami Nyima Dorji, and translated by Toni Huber: bsangs shig bsang / lha’i ma nangs bo bsangs / mo’i dme bzhes po bsangs /

dgung ma lha ma bsangs ba bsangs / geng la bod la sku la bsangs / shar ni snyong la sku la bsangs / jo bo Ung bsdus sku la bsangs / me lha chu lha sku la bsangs / gi la thang la sku la bsangs / lha rnams chen po bsangs / drin can chen po bsangs / bdag chen chen po bsangs / de’i lha de sgrub bsangs / sku’i lha ni ri rgyal lhun po bsangs / gsung gi lha ni gshen lha ’od dkar bsangs / thugs kyi lha ni ye shes phra bo bsangs / yon tan lha ni gangs chen dkar mo bsangs / phrin las lha ni stag la me ’bar bsangs / shar nas gar gsas btsan po yab yum bsangs / lho nas gnam gsas btsan po yab yum bsangs / [nub nas gsas rje dmar po yab yum bsangs / byang nas rgod gsas btsan po yab yum bsangs /] dbus nas dbal gsas btsan po yab yum bsangs / pha shing stag pa bsangs / ma shing glang ma bsangs / bu shing ’om bu bsangs / ba lu dang su lu bsangs / spos dang tsan ldan rin po che / ro grib ’bangs grib / skyes grib shi grib / mi ku tshe thams cad bsangs / chang phud rgya mtsho thams cad bsangs /. 42 The Lha zhu rabs itinerary is used on only two other occasions, and both must be performed while standing upon a large flat rock identified as a dongthan site for receiving the deities. This rock is called Gorzhibla (literally ‘level rock’) and is located next to the lhami’s house in Khomakang village. The Lha zhu rabs is used to invite the Srid-pa’i lha down for the so-called Gunlha rites, the smallscale annual Srid-pa’i lha worship used instead of the Lhamoche every alternate year, and during healing rites performed by the lhami for individual patients. This latter case was the only example I came across during my fieldwork of a Lha zhu rabs being employed outside the context of community worship of the Srid-pa’i lha. 43 During three different performances of the chant, the lhami referred to this stage as Ri-rgyal lHun-po, Gangs-dkar rTse-dgu and Gangs-dkar Ti-se. Since he referred to Ri-rgyal lHun-po in the immediately preceding Bsangs bsangs rabs I have chosen that name for this stage, which also accords with similar Lha zhu chants recorded elsewhere. For example, in the upper Tang valley the initial stages chanted are, “Now, as for the invitation: ’O lha ’O lha ’O lha must be called out three times! Come from above the thirteen levels of the sky! Come from above the central cosmic mountain! Come from the highest peak of the lha! Come from the tip of the juniper the lha’s tree! (da ni spyan ’dren ni // ’o lha ’o lha ’o lha / 3 bos shig / gnam rim phang bcug sum rgyas stod nas byon lo / dbus ri ’o [read: bo] mchog rab gyi rgyas stod nas byon lo / lha’i mtho po’i rtse nas byon lo / lha shing shug pa’i rtse nas byon lo /; Tamdringang 3: 5b, 4-6a, 1. 44 On gya ke and cognate usages in neighbouring East Bodish languages, see n. 82 of ch. 7. 45 On ta here as a tree, as opposed to shrub rhododendrons, cf. CT stag-pa ‘birch’. 46 Unidentified, but the name appears to be local. CT kog means ‘bark [of a tree]’, kog pa shu ba ‘peel off bark’, kog lang ba ‘to splinter, to chink’, thus kog la could refer to a species with peeling or fissured bark, with Himalayan hemlock (Tsuga dumosa) or a lower growing birch (e.g., Betula alnoides) as candidate species in the Tsango area. 47 Transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen, with clarifications by Tshewang Dhondup and lhami Nyima Dorji, translated by Toni Huber: kho ke kho ke / gser khri ke ni ngos khri ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / ngos khri ke ni g.yu khri ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / g.yu khri ke ni dung khri ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / dung khri ke ni zangs khri ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / zangs khri ke ni lcags khri ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / lcags khri ke ni gnam rim pa bco brgyad

609

Notes to pages 332–339

48 49

50 51

52

610

ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bco brgyad ke ni bcu bdun ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bcu bdun ke ni bcu drug ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bcu drug ke ni bco lnga ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bco lnga ke ni bcu bzhi ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bcu bzhi ke ni bcu gsum ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bcu gsum ke ni bcu gnyis ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bcu gnyis ke ni bcu gcig ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bcu gcig ke ni bcu ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bcu ke ni dgu ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa dgu ke ni brgyad ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa brgyad ke ni bdun ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bdun ke ni drug ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa drug ke ni lnga ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa lnga ke ni bzhi ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa bzhi ke ni gsum ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa gsum ke ni gnyis ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa gnyis ke ni gcig ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gnam rim pa gcig ke ni ri rgyal lhun po ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / ri rgyal lhun po ke ni gtsang la stod ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gtsang la stod ke ni gtsang la smad ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / gtsang la smad ke ni bar snang khams ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / bar snang khams ke ni phu geng la ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / phu geng la ke ni phu snyong la ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / phu snyong la ke ni ta gya ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / ta gya ke ni wang gya ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / wang gya ke ni kog la gya ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / kog la gya ke ni smyug gya ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / smyug gya ke ni ye gya mkhar gya ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / ye gya mkhar gya ke ni chang phud rgya mtsho ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / chang phud rgya mtsho ke ni ’bru phud ri rab ka’ ma’ zab se byon na / da shi ne tshe zhu mi le tshe rod sho / nor zhu mi le nor rod sho / zas zhu mi le zas rod sho / snga la mi mchod / shul la mo nor / se kha’i mchod kha’i ke ni /. Located next to Dingchung village. This state is said to represent the inverse reality of demons, meaning things are as bad as that. For similar ideas among the Tamang of Nepal, see Holmberg 1989: 158. The vocabulary in these final lines is typical of lamaist rites, but its intention it directed entirely towards the Srid-pa’i lha. Transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen, with clarifications by Tshewang Dhondup and lhami Nyima Dorji, translated by Toni Huber and Dorji Gyaltsen: pho brang rgyab la / gsol dpon du dgu / gu ru zhe / tshan pa bzhes / mang po bzhes / rgyab ke blo kha be min / gdon gyi kha ram be min / dgra kha chod mi / na kha chod nas / sha kha chod nas / lha brgya re mos be min / ca zhi ca mo be yin / I le nam ke du le ni / sa ke skyid sdug ra’u / pa ra ma ra / skyed sdug le ni / mtshan ni nyin le sgom se / nyin ni sdug le sgom se / kha gtsang lag gtsang be se / bsangs kyi gral bdug be se / ya ra bla ma le zhabs skyel mo thong / ma ra ngan slong le sbyin pa mo thong / ye pa le ne blang be se / mang kha bsdus be se / nyung ke du be se / ma bsangs pa ni bsangs se / ma dag pa ne dag se / da khrims nyags se / dngos khrims zhugs se / gser ku gdong tan ’bar se / dngos ku gdong tan ’bar se / dung ku gdong tan ’bar se / zangs ku gdong tan ’bar se / lcags ku gdong tan ’bar se / da shi le ne snga la skyor / shul la ma nor / se kha’i mchod kha’i ke / mchod bla ma dkon mchog / da lta bzhugs pa’i bla ma / drin can rtsa ba’i bla ma rnams kyi zhal du / dpon g.yogs ’khor dang bcas pa rnams kyi zhal du / chang phud rgya mtsho mchod do ’bul lo / kho ke kho ke kho ke /. Its most detailed form occurs in the descent itinerary of the primordial Naxi ritual specialist Dtô-mbà Shí-lô in the ritual text Shí lô t’û bbué chanted during funeral rites for a deceased dtô-mbà; see Rock 1937: 31-35, but see also other Naxi ritual and mythical contexts

53

54

55

56

57 58

59 60

61 62 63

64

in Rock 1952, I: 95, 99, 164-165, 194, 210, 220, 226-227, 255, 263-265, and Rock 1952, II: 404, 566-567, 602-604, 712, 723, 775, 792-793, 799. The real geopolitical gTsang La-stod in Tibet was actually divided for many centuries into the two named units, La-stod Byang and La-stod lHo; see also Hazod 2009: 170, 172, 193, 195 on imperial era rTsang. See the notes on PT 0126 and PT 1060 in Stein 1985: 119, 123, and most recently Hill 2013a: n. 118 Rtsa ṅ smad mdo, and the references given in Blezer 2008: 431-432 n. 23. Bowls of fortified, hot nakpa are traditionally fed to post-partum women in the Khoma Chu valley so as to nourish them back to full strength. For a recording of a salt harvesting cryptolect from northern Tibet, see the documentary film Die Salzmänner von Tibet by Ulrike Koch 1997. That part of today’s Tawang district in India along the north bank of the Tawang Chu. Descendants of earlier migrants from Tsango settled at Longkhar and Cheng villages in Bumdeling, upper Kholong Chu, still maintain folk narratives about this bird. They call it khama (‘chicken’) ‘Labchamo’, a name they interpret as ‘female bird of the lha’ (written CT lha bya mo). The Tsango interpretation here takes account of the context of the narrative in which Gurzhe arrives from the east, with Lab zho-mo including the ambivalent female kin term zhomo/ zhomu which in Dakpa can mean both ‘younger sister’ and ‘daughter’, and serves also as a general term for ‘woman’; note that van Driem 2007a: 78 recorded zhomo ‘younger sister’ for the Kholong Chu dialect of Dzala, while my Khomakha dialect informants use numo for ‘younger sister’ and in the ‘youngest daughter’ (numo preu takpa) construct (cf. CT numo for ‘younger sister’). The name recalls the toponym Shar Ri-bo lTa-la which appears in myths in the Dakpa speaking region. A written variant of the same lines occurs in the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative describing a ritual specialist from the east bringing the ransom items with him; see Bleiting 2: 14b 7-15a, 1: kham rgom bu rgyab le ’bus se // ka’ mag bya mo ’theng le blom se // rbag ’di bzangs gtang snyes le ’dos se // lha ku yas stag rgyas de ’bus se nis //. Cu-thang-gar referring to the sPang La or a neighbouring pass between the Kholong Chu and Khoma Chu valleys, located directly above Tsango. Rigs-gsum: This site is located high above the settlement areas of Dar and Seb in Bumdeling on the true left bank of the Kholong Chu. Shags-shing: Also ‘Shagzhigma’ (with multiple spellings in documents), is located above the settlement and school of Tsenlha atop the high ridge between the Doksum confluence of the Grangme Chu (Tawang Chu in India) and Kholong Chu rivers. Shagzhigma monastery preserves the practice lineage of the Tibetan gter ston Gu-ru Chos-dbang which was transferred there via migrations from sites in the Khoma Chu valley. Yong-la: Bodt 2012: 113, 128, 142, 219 mentions this apparently sixteenth century ’Brug-pa bKa’-brgyud foundation in eastern Bhutan without location information, but cites a proverb (p. 465) naming it together with Rigs-gsum monastery (shar stod rigs gsum dgon pa dang / shar smad yong la dgon pa gnyis / rgya dang bod kyi kha gnon /).

Notes to pages 339–344

65 66

67

68

69

70

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Ku-ru: Referring to the Kuri Chu valley system in general, of which the Khoma Chu is a major tributary. Nem-mkhar: A small temple associated with the Tibetan gter ston Ratna Gling-pa, located downstream of Tsango near Laber on the true left bank of the Khoma Chu. Older texts name this site Mon-mkhar, while the valley it is located in is marked Monkhar on earlier maps. dKar-phu: This small family temple associated with the lineage of gter ston Ratna Gling-pa, is located on the path between Khoma and Baptong villages on a ridge north and below the monastery settlement of Gönpakab. bCu-sa: The name of the northernmost village located along the true right bank of the Kuri Chu river in Kurtö. Its Kun-bzang-gling temple is a foundation credited to Klong-chen-pa Dri-med ’Od-zer (1308-1363); see Aris 1979: 301 n. 1, 315 n. 19. A local euphemism, in dialect norbu engkalee written nor bu Ang ka li, cf. ang gu li in Tibetan Buddhist texts from the Sanskrit for ‘finger’. The same term, spoken entaling in Tsango dialect, is applied to wooden phalluses used in Srid-pa’i lha worship and in other rites; cf. n. 106 below. A local euphemism, in dialect zhecig ngonmo written zhe gcig sngon mo, although there is no local etymology based upon this spelling. Tournadre and Karma Rigzin 2015: 54 report the Chocha-ngacha word for ‘clitoris’ spoken bechi and written bya lce (lit. ‘hen’s tongue’), which appears to be more closely cognate with zhe gcig than CT bya le ‘clitoris’. Transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen, with clarifications by Tshewang Dhondup and lhami Nyima Dorji, translated by Toni Huber: Kha gtam tshig gsum ma slab na / pha dang bu yang ngo ma zin neg se ne ha’u hi ne mi / ’o lags so / yar dang mar la ma ’gro na / rgya dang bod kyi lam yang ngo ma zin neg se ne ha’u hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o mi yang bstan pa chi ke dar se / nor yang bstan pa chi ke dar se / gos yang bstan pa chi ke dar se neg ha’u hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o lha gnyen che ba zhogs po gu ru zhe be na tho’o ke dag pa tsho gsum neng ke byon pu leng be na ne chang gom bu la rgyab le bu se / kha mo lab zho mo theng le rlom se / ba di rgyang ta la snge le do se / dam ngag phig pa tshig gsum / gle wa kha’i tshud se ra ha’u hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o chi’i tho ke ra’u ling be ni chi A ci gnam rdo zhes cob se rod se la cu thang gar kha’i ’ong se chi A ci le na za dam nyan be se ra ha’u hi ne me / ’o lags so / ’o chi da mi yang bstan pa chi ke dar se / nor yang bstan pa chi ke dar se / gos yang bstan pa chi ke dar se hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o tho ra kho long lung pa le be se be na yin ne mi / ’o lags so / ’go le rigs gsum dgon pa / bar le shags shing dgon pa / mjug le yongs la dgon pa / dgon pa brgya dang rtsa brgyad / mchod rten brgya dang rtsa brgyad / ma ni brgya dang rtsa brgyad / dar lcog brgya dang rtsa brgyad / sa tsha brgya dang rtsa brgyad ne ha’u hi ne mi / ’o lags so / kha yi ram na be se / mi yi mi bu be se / sems le dad pa be se / lus kyi skor se hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o tshu ra nya ka ku ku ru lung pa le be se be na hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’go le nem mkhar dgon pa / bar le dkar phu dgon pa / mjug le bcu sa dgon pa / dgon pa brgya dang rtsa brgyad / mchod rten brgya dang rtsa brgyad / ma ni brgya dang rtsa brgyad / dar lcog brgya dang rtsa brgyad / sa tsha brgya dang rtsa brgyad ne ha’u hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o ’di ba lhag se nya ka gdong stan tshum gong lang nga’i be se be na / ’go le lha khang mo dgo’i / mjug le mchod rten mo dgo’i / ’di ba lhag se lha gnyen che ba zhogs po gu ru zhe bka’ gsung dam le gnas se ne ha’u hin ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o mi yi mi bu be se / kha yi ram na be se / lus kyi skor se hi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o ’dzoms bu’i be na lha ’dzoms

72

73 74 75 76 77 78

79 80

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/ ’gyed pu’i lha ’gyed be se / khang khang rdung rdung mo no / che’i bshad pa chung gi nyan / chung gi bshad pa che’i nyan lo smas / ’o lags so / ’o da pha A pa nang ku gsar thabs le be se be na yi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o khra shed na mu ra shed se / smin ba shed na ran ti shed se / smong shed na yu ra shed se / bar le tsha mar zha pa zhu po leg se / nor bu Ang ka li rtse ke ya ra tshi thigs ke yi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o ma A ma nang ku gsar thabs le be na yi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o khra shed na mu ra shed se / smin ba shed na ran ti shed se / smong shed na yu ra shed se / yu ra mgo ’khrugs / mu ra rkang ’khrugs / bar le tsha mar zha pa zhu po leg se / zhe gcig sngon mo ku rtse ke ya ra tshi thigs ke yi ne mi / ’o lags so / ’o da ’dzoms pu’i be ma lha ’dzoms / ’gyed pu’i be na lha ’gyed / dga’ dga’ spro spro / ha ha hi hi be se zug lo smas / ’o lags so / mar dig na pha A pa Ang ka li ha’i be se dig ga smas / ’o lags so / phe dig se be na / phu snyong la la ha’i te se dig ga smas / ’o lags so / phu snyong la ku wag le / mda’ gang ru bere’i le / dong stan tshum gong lang le / ’thab mong bere mong mo no la / ha ha hi hi be se / gsol na lha gsol se / gyer na bon gyer se / hi ne mi / ’o lags so /. During the Kaulha festival at Bumdeling to the east of Tsango, the lhami visited each household to give fertility blessings to the head woman of childbearing age. He touched each upon the top of the head with a metal dagger and recited, ‘Next year you must give birth to a son! He will have eighteen penises and be able to move [i.e., copulate] well!’ For examples from different areas, see Allen 1997, Gaenszle 2000, Huber 2010. As related unelicited by Tsewang Dhondup in Dzala at Khomakang, March 2012. Referring to g.Ye-mo or E-yul that is immediately east of Yar-lung. CT Yid-bzhin Nor-bu usually refers to a mythical gem that grants all that one desires. Probably Brag gi dung, where brag is CT ‘rock’ or ‘rocky hill’ and dung refers to a ‘steep ridge’ in the local Dzala dialect. For example, in the Rai area of eastern Nepal the name Kupi appears in origin myths and for a specific type of ritual specialist. Commenting on a Rai dance named Kupi sili, Marion Wettstein pers. comm. 2014 informed me that, “kupi bird sili probably relates to founding of the world myth, but for sure is linked to the Nagire shaman [see Gaenszle 2007: 62], the village priest who is also called Kupi (life cycle rituals, offerings to the ancestors, a different category from the trance healers).” Some informants report the alternative name Lhagongma for the same cave. These three wild animals remain unidentified, although jim bang la is likely a dialect variant of Dzala zhidangla (Kurtöp zhidongla), the name for the yellow-throated marten (Martes flavigula) and related species, which some informants also called jim. Transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen, translated by Toni Huber: yid bzhin nor bu ci tsam don le ni grub ti tha wa / kha sha de ning / khing ba de ning / go lo’o baa di ning / jim bang la ning / kho thang la ning / parang si bu ning / the tar ni gor ni re ti tha wa / ki rtse ni mthow tha wa / sha se ni thu me’i tha wa / yid bzhin nor bu gor tshong ke kig te tha wa / zhing tshong ke kig te tha wa / path ni bcags ti tha wa / sbung ni non ti tha wa / yid bzhin nor bu nor le ni nyo dog tha wa / nyo le ni zeng dog tha wa /. In general, public campaigns against killing animals (whether concerning sacrifice, hunting or domestic butchering) within the

611

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83

84

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research region are a feature of the modern period in which forms of Buddhist orthodoxy have become reinforced by a number of distinctly modern factors. These include entry into the region from the 1950s onwards of Tibetan exile lamas who profiled themselves as conservative reformers over and against local practitioners (this is well-documented throughout the Himalayas for the period, e.g., see Balikci 2008 and Mumford 1989), formal insertion and incorporation of clerical values into the modern state and legislative system (as happened in Bhutan), and changes in the way local elites aligned themselves in relation to abstract and reified categories such as ‘religion’ and ‘culture’, largely as a result of their exposure to modern education, mass media and travel beyond their region. This resembles a positive form of the otherwise negative rite called thun brabs used by village lamas in the region, when a handful of mustard seed, maize kernels or small ‘whip stones’ (CT thum rdo) are cast at demons inside the house, in order to dislodge and drive them outside. In many sources, the shang shang is described as a mythical bird, although Jäschke 1881: 556 has ‘pheasant’ or ‘partridge’ for shang shang te’u. The written text reflects Dzala influenced Tibetan, and my emendations are limited to obvious Tibetan misspellings and omissions for which parallel readings are available in other manuscripts. Tsango 2, text 4: 2b, 6-5a, 3: sdong bstan ku pi lang ku mkhar po ni / [3a] mkhar po cig la sgo mo bzhi / sgo mo bzhi’i nang shed na / de la su bzhugs su mi bzhugs / de la lha chen ’o de gung gyas [read: rgyal] bzhugs / lha chen ’o de gung [add: rgyal] ’byas ra tsha / sdong tan mchod pa’i lha mo bzhi / lha mo bzhi’i mjal ra tsha / shar gi sgo ni dung gis [read: gi] sgo / dung sgo shed [read: phye] ba’i nang shes [read: shed] na / nang le dung cung le rang bsam mi khyab / rgyan chag [read: cha] le rang rgya ning stong / rgyan chag [read: cha] mang ba’i smon lam zhu’i / shar gar gsal [read: gsas] btsan po ’ jal ra sra / lho phyogs rin chen gser gyi sgo / gser sgo phye ba’i nang shes [read: shed] na / rta mchod [read: mchog] nol [read: snol] ba’i khri rteng [read: steng] na / bzhugs [3b] ni gnam gsal [read: gsas] khyung ru [read: rung] bzhugs / gnam gsal [read: gsas] khyung ru [read: rung] ’ jal ra sam / nub gis [read: kyi] sgo ni bzang [read: zangs] gyi [read: kyi] sgo / bzang [read: zangs] sgo phye ba’i nang shes [read: shed] na / rma bya nol [read: snol] ba’i khri rteng nas [read: steng na] / bzhugs ni gsal [read: gsas] rje dmar po bzhug [read: bzhugs] / gsal [read: gsas] rje dmar po ’ jal ra sam / byang gis [read: gi] sgo ni g.yu’i sgo / g.yu sgo phye ba’i nang shes [read: shed] na / shang shang nol [read: snol] ba’i khri rteng [read: steng] na / bzhugs ni rgod gsal [read: gsas] btsan po bzhugs / byang rgod gsal [read: gsas] btsan po ’ jal ra sam / dbus di bzhin gnyis sku sgo mo le / glang chen nol [read: snol] ba’i khri rteng [read: steng] na / bzhug [read: bzhugs] ni sbal gsa [read: dbal gsas] btsan po bzhugs / dbus sbal gsal [read: dbal gsas] [4a] btsan po ’ jal ra sam / sdong rten de’i zur bzhi la / lha mo bzhi sku bzhugs sa bzang / sdong rtan mchod pa’i lha mo ’ jal ra sam / sdong rtan ku pu lang sku rtse mo le / pho lha ’o de gung rgyal bzhugs / ’o de gung rgyal ’ jal ra sam / sdong rtan de’i leb bzhi la / mkhan gro [read: mkha’ ’gro] bzhi’i bzhugs sa bzang / mkha [read: mkha’] ’gro bzhi’i ’ jal ra sam / rtsa ba lha phran ’bum gyis bskor / sna tshog [read: tshogs] rin chen dpung [read: spung] nas yod / de la tshe’i khror [read: ’khor] lo yod / tshe’i ’khor [add: lo] ’ jal ra sam / de la tshe’i ’bum pa yod / tshe’i ’bum pa ’ jal ra sam / de la tshe cig su bzhugs [4b] su

ma bzhugs / de la grub zhon lha’i bu’i zhu [read: bzhugs] / de la bu’i ’bum pa yod / de la su zhugs [read: bzhugs] su ma zhugs [read: bzhugs] / de la A ma bu mo bzhugs / rin chen sna tshogs ’bum gyis bskor / rgya mtsho tshe’i ’bum gyis bskor / gong ma lha le ne ha’i ke / grub zhon lha’i bu’i rab nas bzang / lha gnyan che ba’i ’ jog po gur zhe / gzho [read: zhon] pa’i rta cig bsal sam na / dung gi lu gu cig la ’chib te byon / rkang pa dung gis [read: gi] ’khor lo can / de la bab pa’i gnam du phyin / lha la bab pa’i gdan du rting [read: bting] / bzhugs du lha khyim nang du bzhugs / gdan ne [read: ni] snam bu dkar po rting [read: bting] / lus la dar gos dkar po gyon / [5a] gu [read: mgo] la de ni zho dkar zhes / rkang la de ni lham bu cug / de ring lha’i nyi ma le / lha yar bab shog dpal yang bab / tshe yang bab shog g.yang yang bab / tshe zhag de ni khyu lu lu / g.yang zhag de ni me re re /. At this point in the manuscript, a portion of the long Sgam chen pha wang rabs to be used on Day Five is copied into the text and left unfinished – due to a copyist’s error, I was later informed. Yet, the ritual specialists at Kupilang, following the text faithfully, chanted much of it anyway before realising the mismatch. I have omitted that portion of the text from my translation here as well; for a full translation of the Sgam chen pha wang rabs, see Festival Day Five below. 86 The lhami’s ritual implements include an old, metal rdo rje sceptre as used by lamas, and this he employed only for the Tshe zhu rites at Kupilang and Changselang to apply tshe butter to the crowns of people’s heads. 87 Unlike the common shogkushing (CT shog gu shing) designation for Daphne spp. encountered elsewhere in the region, the Tsango pronunciation of this word suggests derivation from CT shog bzo shing ‘tree [for] fabricating paper (shog gu/bu)’ cf. shog bu bzo ba ‘paper-maker’ in BGT: 2869. 88 Cf. comments by van Driem with Dr’âsho Sangye Dorji 2015: 9-10 on translating Bumthap jumala, but which do not apply to most words and expressions for performing the sexual act in East Bodish languages. 89 Informants did not explain the precise purpose of this Dzala dialect chant, and the ritual text itself bears no relation to the rites documented at Kupilang: a series of ritual items are listed as having been offered, yet none were used in the actual rites; the Yizhin Norbu or other animal offerings of any kind are not mentioned; the dongthan Tashiding (written bKra-shis-steng) is cited instead of Kupilang; and the A-ci gsum deities associated with the three palo devices, sTan-mang, Se-mkhar and rGyal-phu, are cited but Gurzhe is not. 90 During the late evening of Day Three, at Tsumgung dongthan an offering was performed to the place deity sNyong La lHa-btsan dKar-po, who has a minor role as temporary host and steward for the visiting Srid-pa’i lha. Each sponsor household supplied millet flour that was cooked into zan porridge and moulded into large round balls, as well as a measure of butter that was squeezed with the fist into shapes called changbu. After both items had been offered by the lhami, they were distributed to the entire community. 91 Cf. the Kurtöp tree name sengtaling, Hyslop et al. In preparation: 230. 92 See Fletcher 1975: 347 reporting a July 1949 visit to Dingchung settlement by Betty Sherriff and J.H. Hicks, both members of a British botanical expedition who wanted to pass through the valley to reach Senge Dzong for plant collecting: “On asking the village

Notes to pages 351–358

93 94

95 96 97

98 99

headman to provide the necessary transport they [Sherriff and Hicks] were told that the Khoma Chu valley was full of evil spirits and that it would be safe to attempt a northwards journey only after animal sacrifices had been made. This they refused to do and set out northwards after a day’s rest at Denchung.” A mile north of Dingchung, Betty Sherriff had a freak accident, falling from her pony and breaking her arm, which caused the immediate abandonment of the expedition, to which the Dingchung headman naturally responded, “I told you so.” The party were members of Frank Ludlow and George Sherriff ’s 1949 botanical expedition to Bhutan supported by the Second King of Bhutan Jigme Wangchuk (19051952), and his veteran Chief Minister Gongzim Sonam Topgay Dorji (1896-1953) with whom they were on friendly terms. Compare also the observations by Ramble 2015: 503 for a ‘Bon’ context in the Nepal highlands. Prior to 2009, when mock animals were introduced, the Tsango worship community performed two annual sheep sacrifices, while a third was only sometimes made when no goral had been hunted for the Yizhin Norbu offerings. In addition to the Chagselang sacrifice for sNyong La on Day Four of Lhamoche, a sheep was killed on the seventeenth day of the third lunar month and offered to the btsan Ungdi Dorjichangchen. Rock 1937: 50. See Höfer 1994: 64 , 222, 318 fig. 8 on Artemisia stalks used as a western Tamang bombo shaman’s aspergillum. Tsango 4: 18a, 1-3, in the text Snyong la’i bstod pa bzhugs so: phu cig snyong la’i bdag po la / sha’i shos [read: bshos] bu mda’ gang ’bul / khrag gi bshol [read: bshos] bu skyems gang ’bul / zan gyi bshol [read: bshos] bu zur gsum ’bul /, and the Snyong la’i bstod ’bum bzhugs so, f. 5a, 4-6: khyad la mchod pa ’bul ni / [...] sha khrag ri ltar dpungs te mchod /. Here I read ras bris for ras dri, although without a second witness. Tsango 2, section Bzhal thems: 41a, 3-42b, 4: bswo ston pa gshen rab mi bo yis / rta bab tsam cig g.yas su babs / thod phub tsam cig g.yon du phub / ’phying chung gru bzhi gdan du gting / dar dkar lha la g.yob du ’phrod / lha la phyag ’tshal nyung yang gsol / ston pa gshen rab lha la phyag ’tshal lo / shing gnyan sdong po’i lha la phyag ’tshal na / shing ’dar de ni si li li / rdo gnyan pha bong lha la phyag ’tshal na / ’dril dang de ni dgongs se dgongs / chu gnyan klu med kyi lha la phyag ’tshal na / mer [41b] dang de ni khyil li li / sa gnyan brag med kyi lha la phyag ’tshal na / shing dang de ni shil li li / mgo nag mi’i lha la phyag ’tshal na / dga’ dang de ni ya la la / ston pa gshen rab mi bo yis / lha la gdan cig gting tsam na / ras dkar lha la gdan du gting / zhal zas lha la phyag tu ’bul / legs me tog lha la rgyan du phul / mda’ mo de ni bya rgod la / leb rgyan de ni dkar po btag / lha rdo de ni dkar po la / mtshal gyi de ni g.yung drung bris / de yang lha le rten du btsugs / ras dri [read: bris] de ni dar chen dang / lho snyug de ni tshig gsum bgyis / de yang lha le rten du btsugs / lha shing de ni dkar po la / rnga ma de ni dkar po’o rgyan / de yang lha le [42a] rten du btsugs // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // thugs kyi sprul pa skyed pa las // lha ’khor gsum brgya drug bcu byung / yang ’khor nyi khri bzhi stong byung / lha cig ni phu’i phu la gnas se / srad dang ser ba srungs pa’i lha / ming yang phu lha dgye thung rtags pa thon tig shog / lha cig ni mda’ yi mda’ le gnas se / ’dzad dang me ge srungs pa’i lha / ming yang rten bu zhal dkar rtags se thon tig shog / lha cig ni bdag gi bdag la gnas se / dgra ning choms rkun srungs pa’i lha / ming yang dgra lha chom rtsun rtags se thon tig shog / lha cig ni yul

gyi yul le gnas se / yul du nad rim chams [42b] pa srungs se thon tig shog / lha cig ni mkhar gyi rtse la gnas se / ming yang rtse lha mthon po rtags se thon tig shog / lha cig ’bru’i bang la gnas se / brgya ’phel stong ’phel se thon tig shog / lha cig ni phyug kyi bres le gnas se / phyug le zho mar ’o ku smon lam gtad se rtags pa thon tig shog /. 100 Dzala mra ‘arrow’ cf. Dakpa mla, Kurtöp mya, Tibetan mda’. 101 According to Dorji Penjore 2004: 67. 102 For examples of such myths, see Mumford 1989: 42 on the Gurung, Gaenszle 1999: 148 and Gaenszle 2007: 52 on the Rai, de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 336-337 on the Lepcha, Bellezza 2005: 199 n. 93 on a text in Tibetan from somewhere in northern Nepal. Associations made between alcohol/semen and cup/female genitals at Srid-pa’i lha festivals are common: On the final evening of a Pla festival down valley from Tsango, I observed three bon shamans with a few male relatives process counterclockwise around the village to bestow more smon lam aspirations directly within each house, where the house mother made the customary offerings of distilled liquor in return. The visitors exchanged the Dzala word thongma ‘drink’ for Kurtöp jagay ‘fuck’, and guk ‘cup’ for tuh ‘vagina’, as the basis for ribald repartee in the presence of the female host: ‘You should fuck nine times!’ Response: ‘My vagina is too big!’ Another man who received a white plastic cup called, ‘Oh, you gave me a white vagina!’ Cf. similar wording and symbolism in Naxi manuscripts for the Szî-chúng-bpò’ (‘Ceremony for the Prolongation of Life’) rites; Rock 1952, I: 146 n. 150. 103 See Dorji Penjore 2004: 68 on the Wamling Kharpu, “The last day of the festival is observed to bid farewell to Lha ‘Ode Gongjan [i.e., ’O-de Gung-rgyal]. People dance procham throughout the day, lifting the edge of their gho or kira to receive tshe (life) from Lha.” 104 Bu dang dpal la bzhengs pa // ma’i pang du bzheng /; Da 1: 15a-b. Cf. Pang du bu gsol ’tshal, in Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 3 (= 7a-b). 105 Phuntsho Rapten 2004: 86-88, described the Gadpupa tradition of explaining the phallus during Goshing Chodpa in Kheng. 106 Spoken entaling (written en ta gling) and engkalee (written Ang ka li) designating the ritual wooden phallus at Tsango probably derives from CT ang gu li in Tibetan Buddhist texts which transcribes Sanskrit a ṅguli ‘finger’. Cf. the cognates Kurtöp tempaling ‘a good luck phallus, used to ward off evil spirits’ Hyslop et al. In preparation: 86, and Bumthap tempali ‘penis of an old man; [...] wooden penis used as a talisman suspended from the eaves of the house to ward off evil spirits’ van Driem with Dr’âsho Sangye Dorji 2015: 64. 107 Probably spud ‘decorate’. 108 Zar ru cf. CT kha gzar, gzar bu, Dzongkha za thur. 109 Mgo ni zangs kyi spur ba ’di // zangs mdog dpal ri zer ba yin // bar du sha yi spur ba ’di // shakya’a thub pa zer ba yin // rtsa ba nags kyi skor ba ni // na ro pan chen zer ba yin // shib ste blta na zam pa’i gzugs // tshong dpon nor bu bzangs po byon zam yin // gyir te blta na zar ru’i gzugs // bzo bo bi sho dkar man sems shor to // sman chung bu mo’i kha gnon yin // stag shar gzhon pa’i cha lugs yin //. 110 See reports of Nor-bu bZang-po narratives at Tawang by Sarkar 1980: 67-68, at Rupa by Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 86-89, and among the Bugun by Elwin 1958: 393-394 (“Chong-Phu-Norbu-Jangpu”). 111 Graham 1958: 46, 60, pl. 15.

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Notes to pages 359–365

112 113

Compare Lot-Falck 1977: 81-82 on the tamyr/tomyr performance. In other local manuscripts, the phrase is written: da khrims nyags se / dngos khrims zhugs se, also ’da’ mkhrims snyag shog bsdun mkhrims shug; see Bleiting 6: 37b, 8. 114 Spos dkar is the resin of the Sal tree (Shorea robusta); BGT: 1668. 115 See ch. 4 n. 47. 116 See ch. 4 n. 48. 117 The name lTas-ngan ‘Bad Omen’ is that of a demon king who is a central character in the Byol rabs from Dga’ thang: 13, 101, f. 17, l. 1 et passim. 118 See ch. 4 n. 50. 119 Sras here means ‘son’ metaphorically, in the sense of ‘pupil’ or ‘follower’; in other versions of the same narrative, ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo personally selects sGam-chen Pha-wang as the messenger between lha and human beings. 120 Note the original use of Dzala and Dakpa ’i ergative marker in this and the following line. 121 Originally ’dam bu, with my interpretation ‘wetland lustral waters’ here for chab tshan based upon the habitat of ’dam bu (lit. ‘swamp child’) ka ra, a swamp rush or reed, Juncus sp. or Scirpus sp., see Parfionovitch, Meyer and Gyurme Dorje 1992: Index. 122 All four dice scores given here are those found in the Grags-pa Bon-lugs narrative (Haarh 1969: 409-410), but are absent from the gSang-ba Bon-lugs narrative. 123 In redactions of the gSang-ba Bon-lugs and Grags-pa Bon-lugs narratives, at this point Yab-lha bDal-drug becomes ‘the lord of all the lha’ (lha thams cad kyi rje mdzad). 124 The gSang-ba Bon-lugs and Grags-pa Bon-lugs narratives have mgon btsun phya here; Mkhas pa lde’u: 230; Haarh 1969: 410. 125 See Mkhas pa lde’u: 229 for rGya-la ’Brong-nam who goes as lha of the rGya Mi-rmang; cf. Stein 2010: 263 for an Old Tibetan precursor in the form rGya rje Mye-mtshang rMang-po. 126 The word phying has the double meaning ‘robe/tunic’ and ‘felt’ in the area, although the phying garments are made of woven raw silk, nettle or cotton. I preserve both meanings here. 127 Lu gu is a common synonym for several different plants used in Tibetan materia medica, but most likely here refers to lu gu me tog (syn. g.yar mo thang) or Primula fasciculata, with a known distribution from south-eastern and eastern Tibetan Plateau regions; Pasang Yonten Arya 2001: 329, BGT: 2618, 2781, De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 336. 128 Originally she ru I read as she’u, an established synonym for Meconopsis torquata, the blue poppy (Utpala sngon po), which grows on alpine and slate meadows of the southern and south-eastern Tibetan Plateau; De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 327, Pasang Yonten Arya 2001: 309, sKal-bzang Nor-bu. 2004: 91. 129 Similar to gangs tshan or lustral waters from the melt waters of snow or ice, sha tshan < shwa tshan is probably lustral waters from thaw or flash floods related to hail fall; see shwa in BGT: 2871 ser ba drag tu babs te shwa dang rbab rgod kyis ri lung khengs. 130 Not identified. Candidates that grow in the region could include various types of pine or cedar (CT thang shing) that are often qualified by a colour (thang dmar, etc.) or the walnut tree CT star ka shing or dar sga shing.

614

131 Originally khan bu phar phod. While phar phod is perhaps to be read pha spos, the Artemisia spp. are also called mkhan bu ‘Artemisia son’ in the lists of ‘nine son trees/woods of the valley’ (lung shing bu dgu) for making incense (spos) smoke in the Dri zhim dud sel rites from the cult; see n. 105 of ch. 2. 132 Cf. Dung ’Phar-po [’]pha[r]-chung, the conch which blows itself in the gSang-ba Bon-lugs narratives; e.g Lde’u jo sras: 101. 133 Thar or thar nu refers to one or several species of spurge, Euphorbia spp.; Pasang Yonten Arya 2001: 91, BGT: 1152, De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 286-287. 134 The wording here is vulgar Kurtöp slang inserted from the Shawa 1 manuscript. Kurtöp phak ‘pocket’ and phâ ‘large pocket’ is an exaggerated image of the open ‘vagina’ (tu) at its ‘bottom’ (wa) end, and one used in Srid-pa’i lha chants at various sites around Kurtö; cf. n. 56 of ch. 6. 135 It was difficult to establish a complete and translatable text for the Tsango Ston pa rgam chen pha wang gis lha phab lus (original orthography). Lines of the oral version recorded during the rite in January 2012 were sometimes chanted ad libitum in Dzala, and varied occasionally from one performer to the next, even though – and baring the strong Dzala influence in the opening lines – the manuscripts being followed at the time were written entirely in Classical Tibetan. Moreover, both manuscript versions of the text used during the rite were incomplete or physically damaged. To overcome some of these problems, I consulted very similar versions of the same rabs in manuscripts used at Lawa, Shawa and in the Bleiting corpus of the Khoma five village collective. In a few cases where longer sections of text are illegible or missing in the Tsango manuscripts, I opted to supplement such lacunae by inserting parallel passages from the Shawa 1 manuscript where it agreed closely with the orally chanted version performed during the rite. These insertions from the manuscript Shawa 1, text 1: 1b, 1-11a, 3, Lha rabs rgam chen pha wong bzhugs so, are underlined in the transcription below with folio numbers set in { }. The transcription below is of Tsango, text 4: 1b, 1-13b, 5, with supporting readings drawn from Lawa 1, text 3, Lha rabs rgam chen pha ’ong bzhughyo and Bleiting 4: 31b-38b, Gam chung lha phabs yin. Text: [1b] Aa ha ha’i Aa ha ha’i hi / gsung ni wa yo wa yo lha wa yo / dang po dus ste sngon dus te / dgung ni yug skye phub dus te / mang ni mag skye ting dus te / sma bskos dgu bskos me me mtho’u zhe’i kos pu’i kye / nges le da khrim mnyag te bskos / nges le dun khrims phyag te bskos / bzhes me me mtho’u bzhes pu bskos [2a] pu’i kye / da khrims mnyag shog dun khrims phyag te kos / dang po pha ku tshe le pha’i se ha / phyi ma bu ku tshe le bu se ti / da ta rang ku tshe le rang gis se // // da ni sgam chung lha phabs yin / dang po mi la de ni lha med pa / dpa’ gro mon dang ’dra / lha la de ni mi med na / la kha’i mtho yor ’dra / khrab la rgyan dang zab med na / g.ya ma’i gsal sil ’dra / rta la srab dang mthur med na / ri kha’i rkyang dang ’dra / yul la bkrag dang mi med na / tshang rgor rdo dang ’dra / [2b] ston pa sgam chung pha wang gi / lha cig ’tshol du phyin tsam na / pha dang yab kyi mtshan / A’o gung rgyal lags / ma dang yum gyi mtshan / grang ma ’phrul gyi tsun mo yin / de gnyis srid cig sprul pa las / sras ni sgam chung pha wang yin / sku la de ni cig gsol na / pags pa sreg slog pa gsol / phyag g.yas na mda’ mo bya rgod bsnams / byon pa de ni gang du byon / sa man gnam du byon / gnam rim spang bcu gsum gyi steng du byon / bswo bswo de ni lan gsum byas / dar dkar g.yab mo phyar / spos dkar dud pa gtang / de

Notes to pages 365

[3a] yang pho lha’i spyan ma drangs // // kha nas spos kyi dud pa thul / zhang po rmu la lan gsum bos // rmu skas rim dgu gung la btsug // bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // da rung zhon pa’i rta ma mchis // rta btsal de ni lug la btsal // lug gi de ni pha dang yab // gnam lug de ni zhon chen yin // lug gi de ni ma dang yum // sa lug de ni zhon mo yin // bu ni dung lug ’phur shes yin // zhon pa’i rta ni de nas btsal // bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // yab ni A’o [3b] gung rgyal yin // yum ni grang ma dpal gyi btsun mo yin // de gnyis srid cing sprul pa las // sgam chen pha wang bya ba byung // bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // sku la dar dkar slog pa gsol // phyag g.yas na mda’ mo bya rgod bsnams // g.yon na dar dkar g.yab mo phyar // bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // phur phur de ni gung du phur // lding lding de ni gnam du lding // gnam rim spang gcig gi steng du phyin tsam na // bswo bswo de ni lan gsum byas // spos dkar de ni dud pa btang // [4a] dar dkar de ni g.yab mo phyar // de yang pho lha’i spyan ma drangs // de yang mo lha’i zhal ma mjal // de yang yul lha’i rnyed ma ’dzin // bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // gnam rim spang gsum gi steng du phyin tsam na // bswo bswo de ni lan gsum byas // spos dkar de ni dud pa btang // dar dkar de ni g.yab mo phyar // de yang pho lha’i spyan ma drangs // de yang mo lha’i zhal ma mjal // de yang yul lha’i rnyed ma ’dzin // bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // gnam rim spang lnga’i steng du phyin tsam na // [4b] bswo bswo de ni lan gsum byas // spos dkar de ni dud pa btang // dar dkar de ni g.yab mo phyar // de yang pho lha’i spyan ma drangs // de yang mo lha’i zhal ma mjal // de yang yul lha’i rnyed ma ’dzin // bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // gnam rim spang bcu gnyis gi steng du phyin tsam na // bswo bswo de ni lan gsum byas // spos dkar de ni dud pa btang // dar dkar de ni g.yab mo phyar // de yang pho lha’i spyan ma drangs // de yang mo lha’i zhal ma mjal // de yang yul lha’i rnyed ma ’dzin // [5a] bya cig sgam chen pha wang de // gnam rim spang bcu gsum gi steng du phyin tsam na // lha rgyal mdun ma byed pa’i drung du mjal // lha pho brgya rnams kyis zhal na re // lha mo brgya rnams kyis tshig na re // lung pa’i mdo gsum smad gi na // mi chung byi ba’i mgo can khyod // dung gi lug gu gcig la zhon // sngon chad mthong de ma mnyong de // sa’i ltas ngan gnam la ’ongs te ’dugs // sgam chen pha wang yin nam zer // khyod da nang yongs pa [5b] gang nas yongs // do nub ’gro ba gang du ’gro // don ni ci dang ci la yongs pa yin // // sgam chen pha wang zhal na re // nga da nang mi’i yul nas yongs // do nub lha’i yul du ’gro // don du lha btsal yongs pa yin // lha mi’i yul du ’gro dgos so // // srid pa’i lha chen zhal na re // sgam chen pha wang tshur nyon // rngam mchu sho re ’dug pa ci’i rtags pa // rna ba bong bu ’dra ba ci’i rtags pa // mche ba gcan gzan ’dra ba ci’i rtags pa // shog pa dar zab [6a] ’dra ba ci’i rtags pa // rkang pa na gi ’dra ba ci’i rtags pa // // sgam chen pha wang zhal na re // rngam mchu sho re ’dug pa de // lha dang mi’i ’phrin pa yin // mche ba gcan gzan ’dra ba de // ’dre srin ’byung gsum za ba yin // rna ba bong bu ’dra ba de // lha’i gsung skad nyan pa yin // shog pa dar zab ’dra ba de // gnam sa gnyis kyi sdeb sbyor yin // rkang pa na gi ’dra ba de // bstan du lha bro rdung pa yin // nga la ltas ngan ma zer cig // nga la ltas ngan zer ba yin // khyed la yugs sdig [6b] yong pa yin // // srid pa’i lha chen zhal na re // sgam chen pha wang bya ba khyod // kha’i de ni spyod lugs sam // sku’i de ni mdzes lugs sam // su’i de ni sras yin nam // khyad rang shul du logs nas song // // sgam chen pha wang zhal na re // yab ni A’o gung rgyal yin // kha pho che ba de ltar yin // ma ni grang ma dpal gyi btsun mo yin // sku lus mdzes pa de ltar yin // sras ni ston pa’i sras yin no // shes rab che ba de ltar yin // lha mi’i yul ’gro dgos yod // // lha cig rol du ma khrid na // sgam chen shul du log sa med // // srid pa’i [7a] lha chen zhal na re // yul cig mi yul gyi thing na // thab dang de ni gzhob yod do // mkhon

kyang yod do gtsog kyang yod // mi kha yod do ’gro mi rung // ston pa sgam chen zhal na re // thab dang gzhob la bsangs thabs yod // mkhon dang gtsog la bsangs thabs yod // rdzun la bden pa’i gtam yang yod // lha mi’i yul du ’gro dgos yod // // gtsang ma lha chen zhal na re // ston pa sgam chen tshur nyon dang // yul ni thab dang gzhod kyi yul // thab yul [7b] mar gyi nga mi ’gro // gzhob yul mar gyi nga mi ’gro // yul ni khrag dang dmar gyi yul // khrag yul mar gyi nga mi ’gro // dmar yul mar gyi nga mi ’gro // yul ni btsan dang bdud kyi yul // de ’dra’i yul du nga mi ’gro // kyod rang shul du log las so // ston pa sgam chen zhal na re // lha pho brgya rnams kyi g.yas su nyon // lha mo brgya rnams kyi g.yon su nyon // lha sras gral la bsgrigs te nyon // thab dang gzhob la bsangs thabs yod // khrag dang dmar la khru thabs yod // btsan dang bdud la [8a] gsol thabs yod // nyin mo rigs su gsol mchod bya // nub mo rigs su ’khrus re bya // lha mi’i yul du ’gro dgos so // lha cig rol du ma khrid na // ston pa shul du log sa med // // gtsang ma lha chen zhal na re // ston pa sgam chen tshur nyon dang // yul cig mi yul gyi thing na // ban chen mig tsha ba’i mi med dam // zha bo dang theng po’i mi med dam // lag ngar ni med mi’i med dam // btsan las rje ngar dngos sam zer // [8b] dus bzhi dus la gsol mchod shes sam zer // // sras ston pa sgam chen zhal na re // nga ni lha dang mi’i ’phrin pa yin // mi yul gyi thing ma gyi na // mi la de ni lha med pa // dpal ’gro mon dang ’dra // lha la de ni mi med na // gnam gyi de ni rna ’on ’dra // rta la de ni srab med na // ri kha’i de ni rkyang dang ’dra // khrab la de ni rgyan med na // g.ya ma’i de ni gsal sil ’dra // zas la de ni bcud med na // ri kha’i de ni gna’ dang ’dra // de phyir de ni lha dgos [9a] so // lha la de ni mi dgos so // lha la de ni mi med na // sel mchod de ni su’i byed // mi la de ni lha med na // mgon skyabs de ni su’i byed // mi’i lha la gsol mchod bya // lha’i mi la mgon skyabs bya // mi dang lha gnyis phan yon yin // // gtsang ma lha chen zhal na re // mnol btsog rme gsum yod pa la // de las thabs ci ltar byed // // ston pa sgam chen zhal na re // mnol btsog rme gsum yod pa la // de la lha bsangs bcu gsum yod // lha mi’i [9b] yul du ’gro dgos so // // gtsang ma lha chen zhal na re // sgam chen pha wang tshur nyon dang // nan ltar lha chen spyan mi ’dren // nan ltar lha chen spyan ’dren na // lha’i sku ni ci yi bsangs // lha’i gsung ni ci yi bsangs // lha’i thugs ni ci yi bsangs // lha’i gdan ni ci la byed // lha’i rten ni ci la byed // lha la lha rdo ci ltar btsugs // // ston pa sgam chen zhal na re // gtsang ma lha chen tshur nyon dang // tsan dan de ni dkar po dang // spos mo de ni dri zhim dang // lha’i de ni sku yang bsangs // shug pa [10a] de ni lo bzangs dang // mkhan bu de ni tshan bzang dang // lha’i de ni gsung yang bsangs // gangs tshan de ni sro lo dang // chab tshan de ni ’dam bu yi // lha’i de ni thugs yang bsangs // lha pho brgya rnams ni g.yas su nyon // lha mo brgya rnams ni g.yon du nyon // lha rabs mched bzhi tshur nyon dang // bsal ba dus kyi lha ru bsal // sgom pa dus kyi rje ru sgom // lha cig mi ’gro thabs yod dam // srid pa’i lha chen gros byed na // mi’i yul dus [10b] su ’gro su mi ’gro // lha res sho res rgyab dgos so // yab lha dal drug sho cig rgyab tsam na // drug gsum de ni bco brgyad byung // sho mo de ni kho che ba // gnam rim pang bcu gsum gyi lha ru bskos // phya lha bram chen sho cig rgyab tsam na // lnga gsum de ni bco lnga byung // sho mo de ni kho che ba // sgam po phywa’i lha ru bskos // rgya lha ’brong nam sho cig rgyab tsam na // bzhi gsum de ni bcu gnyis byung // sho mo de ni kho che ba // rgya mi mang phyug che’i lha ru bskos // lha chen ’o de gung rgyal sho cig rgyab tsam na // [11a] gsum gsum de ni dgu ru byung // sho mo de ni kho chung te // mgo nag mi’i lha ru bskos // lha chen ’o de gung rgyal gyis // lha chen gsum brgya drug bcu rol du khrid // lha chen ’o de gung rgyal gyis // ’og rta de ni rta dkar zhon // lus la de phying dkar gon // mgo la de ni zho dkar gon // ’brug kyang de ni skad di ri ri // glog kyang de ni khyug se khyug //

615

Notes to pages 365–373

136

137 138

616

bum pa de ni shar ra ra // gsung snyan de ni di ri ri // lha chen ’o [11b] de gung rgyal gyis // gnam rim pang bcu gsum steng du byon tsam na // // ston pa sgam chen pha wang gis // tsan dan de ni dkar po dang // shug pa de ni lo bzang gis // lha’i de ni sku yang bsangs // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // // gnam rim pang bcu gnyis steng du byon tsam na // gangs dkar rtse dgu lha le sten du btsugs // sro lo tshan gyi lha’i sku yang bsangs // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // gnam rim pang bcu gcig steng du byon tsam na // shel brag dkar po lha le rten [12a] du btsugs // gangs tshan de ni lu gu dang // spang tshan de ni ba lu dang // lha’i de ni sku yang bsangs // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // gnam rim pang bcu’i steng du byon tsam na // ston pa sgam chen pha wang gis // lha rdo dkar po lha le rten du btsugs // spang tshan de ni she ru dang // shwa tshan de ni lu gu dang // lha’i de ni sku yang bsangs // gnam rim pang dgu’i steng du byon tsam na // shug pa lo bzang lha le rten du btsugs // mkhan bu de ni tshan bzang dang // spos mo de ni dri zhim [12b] dang // lha’i sku gsung thugs bsangso // {9a, 5...} gnam rim pang brgyad kyi steng du byon tsam na // snyug rgod tshig gsum lha’i rten du btsugs // brag tshan A ba lha’i sku yang bsangs // // gnam rim {9b} pang bdun gyi steng du byon tsam na // lha shing rting dkar lha’i rten du btsugs // chab tshan ’dam bu lha’i sku yang bsangs // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // gnam rim pang drug gi steng du byon tsam na // // ston pa sgam chen pha wang gis // lha gshang khar mo ’dril chen lha’i rten du btsugs // mkhan pa de ni pha spos dang // lha’i de ni sku yang bsangs // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // gnam rim pang lnga’i steng du byon tsam na // rnga grag mo gling chen lha le rten du btsugs // tshal spos de ni gla rtsi dus pa dang // lha’i sku gsung [13a] thugs bsangso // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // gnam rim pang bzhi’i steng du byon tsam na // dung phar ma’i phar chung lha le rten du btsugs // shug pa de ni dkar po dang // pha shing dgu lha’i sku yang bsangs // lha cig ’o de gung rgyal de // gnam rim pang gsum gyi steng du byon tsam na // ston pa sgam chen pha wang gis // lha g.yag dkar po lha le rten du btsugs // ba lu de ni su lu dang // dri zhim bsangs gis lha’i sku yang [13b] bsangs // {10a, 1...} gnam rim pang gnyis kyi steng du byon tsam na // ’brang rgyas zhal dkar lha’i rten du btsugs // tsan dan dkar dmar lha’i sku yang bsangs // gnam rim pang gcig gi steng du byon tsam na // khrab rmog rgyan bzang lha’i rten du btsugs // zhang zhung thar tshan lha’i sku yang bsangs // mi yul dkyil mthing tsam du byon tsam na // de nas ston pa gshen rab mar gyi byon pa dang // ’o de gung rgyal yar gyi byon pa gnyis // g.ya’ dang spang gi mtshams // pha cig ston pa {10b} gshen rab mi bo des // lha ’o de gung rgyal ngos ma shes // yar gyi rta dkar mu dkar de // sdang ba’i de ni dgra yi nam // gnod pa’i de ni bgegs yin nam // btsan gyi jag pa yin nam zer // phung pa’i de ni sri yin nam // gal te de ni mi yin nam // bdud kyi mi rkun yin nam zer // ngas ni ci yin ngos ma shes // lha // ’o de gung rgyal zhal na re // nga ni sdang ba’i dgra yang min // nga ni gnod pa’i bgegs yang yin // phung pa’i de ni sri yang min // gal te de ni mi yang min // nga ni ’ jig rten mi yi lha // mi lha med rnams kyi lha ru byon // tshe med {11a} rnams kyi tshe ru byon // phyugs rdzi med rnams la rdzi ru byon // nor g.yang med rnams la g.yang du byon // gos bkrag med rnams kyi bkrag du byon // nga ni ’ jig rten spyi yi lha ru byon // // wa yo bi tu wa pag pa // //. See the Dzala influenced text Bleiting 6: 37b, 3-5: ma dkos dgu dkos ne mē mē tho’u bzhes yis dkos / ma dzad mgu mdzad gam po’u shā [i.e., CT sgam po phywa] yang mdzad / gzhe mē mē tho’u gzhe’i dkos phu’i ke /. The most deviant Dakpa orthographies write med med Thob-gzhi; see Hoongla 5: 78b, 5. Rgyal rigs: 32a-b, and 36a-b; cf. Aris 1986: 46-47, 52-53.

139

There is in fact a third meaning of sifu. When a child is very ill, it may be dedicated to the lha as a desperate means of trying to heal it. If it recovers, it is called sifu. However, this type of so-called sifu is regarded as the ‘lite’ version, and has a completely different status from those conceived by the lha. They do not become the lha’s namesake, nor must they participate in the sifu thanksgiving rites during Day Six at every Lhamoche. 140 I observed similar use of a mock baby in order to deceive malicious spirits during wedding rites in the Menchukha valley of northcentral Arunachal Pradesh during 2002. It is significant that the Memba community of Menchukha has an ancestral component of migrants from the Mon-yul Corridor and parts of far eastern Bhutan; see Grothmann 2012. 141 Don po je ni sang tey day. Nga che lha ni num num la. 142 Compare the overview of the Sel rabs cycle at Lawa in appendix D. 143 Tsango 9: 15b, 5-16a, 5: lha lnga lam sel da bzhengs ’tshal // yab ni rgya brag dkar po dang // yum ni grang kyi g.yu ’tsho gnyis // de gnyis srid cing sprul ba las // rin chen sna lnga’i sgo nga byung // gser sgong ser po de dang cig // g.yu sgong sngon po de dang gnyis // lcags sgong nag po de dang gsum // [16a] zangs sgong nag po de dang bzhi // dung sgong dkar po de dang lnga // gser sgong ser po stol ba’i nang shed nas // gser gyi bon po ser po byung // dbu la gser gyi bya ru btsugs // phyag g.yas na gser gyi zhags pa snams // lha lam dkar po gyen la sel // g.yon na gser gyi ’phreng pa snams // nyams pa sna dgu ’thur la sel // gser gyi bon po ser po yang // pho lha dag pa’i sel la byon //. 144 The gender (if any is intended) for these sman beings is not signalled in the texts, nor did informants have an opinion on it. At another worship community in Kurtö, a ritual performer named me long sman is male but wears a female’s garment. I translate with female gender here due to the mirror accoutrement, which is more typical of female deities. 145 For bzed kha and zed kha I read gzer kha, probably meaning a ‘spiked’ headdress parallel to the bya ru of the bon po in the lHa lnga lam sel chant; some mythical bon ritualists have such a ‘spiked’ headdress; cf. the illustration in Karmay and Watt 2007: 154, fig. 77a. 146 Tsango 9, 17b, 2-19a, 6: me long sman sel da bzhengs ’tshal // yab ni rgya brag dkar po dang // yum cig grang kyi g.yu mtsho gnyis // de gnyis srid cing sprul ba las // rin chen sna lnga’i sgo nga byung // gser sgong ser mo stol ba las // gser gyi me long sman cig byung // dbu la gser gyi zer ka can // phyag g.yas na gser gyi me long snams // me long lha la yab ma yob // g.yon na gser gyi bum pa snams // bum pa’i khrus chab [insert: lha] la ’thor // zhal nas dag go tshangs [18a] so zer // gser gyi me long sman cig ma // de ring khyim sgo lam srangs ’dir // gser sman tshangs pa’i sel la byon // // g.yu’i sgong sngon mo stol ba las // g.yu’i me long sman cig byung // dbu la g.yu’i zer ka can // phyag g.yas na g.yu’i me long snams // // me long lha la yab ma yob // g.yon na g.yu’i bum pa snams // bum pa’i khrus chab lha la ’thor // zhal nas dag go tshangs so zer // g.yu’i me long sman cig ma // de ring khyim sgo lam srang ’dir // g.yu’i sman tshangs pa’i sel la byon // lcags sgong nag po stol ba las // lcags kyi me long sman cig byung // dbu la lcags kyi zer ka can // phyag g.yas na lcags kyi me long snams // // me long lha la yab ma yob // g.yon na lcags kyi bum pa snams // bum pa’i khrus chab lha la ’thor // zhal nas dag go tshangs [18b] so zer // lcags kyi me long sman cig ma // de ring khyim sgo lam srang ’dir // lcags sman tshangs pa’i sel la byon // zangs sgong dmar mo stol ba las // zangs kyi me long

Notes to pages 373–399

sman cig byung // dbu la zangs kyi zer ka can // phyag g.yas na zangs kyi me long snams // // me long lha la yab ma yob // g.yon na zangs kyi bum pa snams // bum pa’i khrus chab lha la ’thor // zhal nas dag go tshangs so zer // zangs kyi me long [19a] sman cig ma // de ring khyim sgo lam srang ’dir // zangs sman tshangs pa’i sel la byon // dung sgong dkar mo stol ba las // dung gi me long sman cig byung // dbu la dung gi zer ka can // phyag g.yas na dung gi me long snams // // me long lha la yab ma yob // g.yon na dung gi bum pa snams // bum pa’i khrus chab lha la ’thor // zhal nas dag go tshangs so zer // dung gi me long sman cig ma // de ring khyim sgo lam srang ’dir // dung sman tshangs pa’i sel la byon // dag go tshang so //. 147 Lo Ch’ang-p’ei 1945. 148 The linking of ritual performers by grasping similar types of vegetal rope also occurs at other sites in the southern Mon-yul Corridor. In the case of the Sherdukpen clan festivals called Khiksaba, there are many close parallels with Srid-pa’i lha festivals to the north, or rites in the former we can demonstrate as directly derived from the latter; see Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 60, 68-77, pl. xiii. For the same type of vegetal rope used by Bugun in the Diying Kho Masian rite, see Pandey 1996: 82-85, pl. between p. 54-55. 149 For example, in eastern Nepal, Rai communities perform a dance (sili) named Karayankurung, during which dancers are linked together forming a ‘flying spiral’ related to the flight of migratory birds. Marion Wettstein pers. comm. June 2013, who researched Rai dance culture, describes Karayankurung in these terms, “It’s the only time when the “normal” dancing circle dissolves into another structure, and when practically everybody from the audience joins (can become more than 300 people depending on the crowd). The dance leader signals that everybody should join hands (never done in any other sili) and first turns the whole circle in and then folds it out again, the line looking like a snake.” Writing comparatively on ‘Siberian dances to the Sky’ in the context of the ominan ritual among the Daurs, Caroline Humphrey and Urgunge Onon noted that, “The round dance (yookhor) among the Buryats was clearly a symbolic ascent. The Yakuts had a similar communal ecstatic dance. Performed by ‘sons and daughters’ or ‘nine boys and nine girls’, these were long drawn out rituals of increasing fervour, which whirled their participants up to the sky. At the Khori Buryat festival of inviting all spirits and introduction of a new shaman (shanar), the dancers made in this way a spiral road for him and ‘danced him up to the sky’”, and they provided further examples of the same rites for propelling lightning back up to the sky after a thunderstorm; Humphrey and Urgunge Onon 1996: 248 and references to other literature therein. 150 According to Gwendolyn Hyslop pers. comm. July 2016, “In Dzongkha, jo cap means to have sex, and jo has been borrowed into Kurtöp to mean ‘sex’ or ‘lots of sex’.” Cf. also CT rgyo pa ‘copulation’. 151 Mahonia sp. are very closely related to Berberis spp. within the family Berberidaceae, and both are subsumed under the indigenous taxon skyer pa, while the yellowish wood of both is used to make ritual stakes or daggers in a wide variety of rites. 152 Ha lu mai lu tu lu sum! Ha bang shak sum ngo mi tsha! 153 See, for example, Hu Chien-Min 1941: 26.

10. Th e A h e y lh a Fe st i va l of Ch a ngm a du ng 1

An informant from Shingkhar in Kheng Chikor claimed the Changmadung migrants from that area were driven out by a smallpox epidemic, although no date or corroborating evidence is available. 2 Peasant populations in some areas of eastern Bhutan became so depleted due to this type of ‘tax flight’ migration that return migration was encouraged by granting them an improved status. They thus became exclusive tax subjects of collateral families of the royal house, for whom they mainly performed corvee labour, which obviated any other tax commitments to the state administrative and monastic system. On the taxation system until the late 1950s, see Ardussi and Karma Ura 2000, Dorji Penjore 2009, and Karma Ura 2011 [1995]: chapter 8. 3 Due to this damage in the original manuscript (Changmadung 3), two handwritten copies (Changmadung 1 and Changmadung 2) were later made. More recently, a Thimphu-based scholar hailing from this area generated a computer-typeset version (Changmadung 4) in which some oral rabs have also been recorded in order to conserve them. All four versions give different readings, and I have used them together to resolve difficult points of interpretation for the translations to follow below. The most recent version, Changmadung 4, also introduces inappropriate Buddhist wording in places, and the three older manuscripts have been preferred where possible. 4 Cf. BGT: 2170 hor zla dgu ba’i tshes bcu drug nas bcu pa’i bco lnga’i bar la smin drug zla ba zer. 5 In the area of Kheng Chikor from which the Changmadung ancestors migrated, the villages of Shingkhar, Wamling, Trisa, Bardo, Radi and Nyimshong all celebrate their Kharpu festivals within the same period of a few days, beginning towards the end of the second week of the ninth lunar month and continuing until the seventeenth or eighteenth days; on Wamling dates, see Dorji Penjore 2004: 53. 6 My data on Kheng Chikor included interviews during 2012-2014 with: bon po Kunley (sixty-five years old) of Trisa who was an appointed specialist of two years service, and who was first trained by bon po Gembola of Wamling (on Gembola cf. Dorji Penjore 2004: 49); bon po Tsering Lhamo (over sixty years old) of Zangling who was an appointed specialist of twenty years service trained by the former bon po of Zangling; bon po Rinzin Dorji (fifty-six years old) of Nyimshong who was an appointed specialist of nine years service trained by his predecessor bon po Gerphu. 7 This ethnography of the event covers 11-13 November 2011, and owes a great deal to the collaboration of both Dorji Gyaltsen and Mareike Wulff. 8 The local innovation tshigs here replaces bzhi ‘four’ found in all rabs of this kind at other sites, and usually named Nam zla dus bzhi. 9 Original reads mtheb sor. 10 Changmadung 3, 5a, 4-6a, 1 with alternative readings in Changmadung 4, 9a, 6-9b, 5. 11 Also described in Dzongkha as sems khar dmigs rim de sbe skyed do. 12 Compare the Old Tibetan pho gShen thod-dkar mentioned in the narrative of PT 1285.

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Notes to pages 399–404

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Translated by Toni Huber from a narration by bon po Changchub recorded in Dzongkha at Changmadung, with the local transcription mediated by Dorji Gyaltsen being preferred to official ‘Roman Dzongkha’: bon po gshen lha thod dkar dang lha’i bu tshu lha zhu bar dang pa rang / O rgyan gu ru’i sgom phug bskor ra las sbe ’dug sku gling zer ngal gso thengs dang pa / da rung de las yar ’ong ste thi thi lu lhod pa da ngal gso thengs gnyis pa sbe / da rung de las yar ’ong ste ngal gso theng gsum pa ’di sbang ma ngal sa lu sbe / de las tshur sbe / kha brag phug lu lhod / de las bshags pa dang num sha ri / skad mong / sa dkar po sgang / ma shing tshu rgyud de bon po rang gi yul lcang ma dung lu lhod / de las nga bcas ra’i sa gnas khag tshu nang / bsangs rabs dang kha bon thog gsol kha phul thog / rang gi skyes lha yul lha tshu gsol te / [text continued in n. 19 below]. Based on and numbered from Changmadung 1: 1a, 1-1b, 6 with readings from Changmadung 4: A he / da ni lha la khrus rabs yod // shar gyi chu bo gangga’i chu // gangga’i chu dang de dang gcig // lho bo chu bo lu tig chu // lu tig chu dang de dang gnyis // nub gyi chu bo rdza ra’i chu // rdza ra’i chu dang de dang gsum // byang gyi chu bo pag shu chu // pag shu [1b] dang de dang bzhi // ma chu chen po de dang lnga // za chu yur chu de dang drug // Aum chu lang ling de dang bdun // pho chu mo chu de dang brgyad // skyi chu gtsang chu de dang dgu // chu sna dgu po bsdus bsdus te // blug ni shel dkar nang du blugs // zil pa gnam du song bas ni // g.yas kyi lha ni pho lha khrus // g.yon gyi lha ni mo lha khrus // steng gi lha rnams thams cad khrus // zil pa bar du song bas ni // bar gyi btsan rnams thams cad khrus // thig pa sa la song bas ni // ’og gi klu rnams thams cad khrus //. The Changmadung names Chu-bo Gangga, Chu-bo rDza-ra, Ma-chu, sKyi-chu and gTsang-chu occurring together represent an eleventh century scheme from the Sha ru shul ston gyi rabs la sogs pa in the forms Chu-bo ’Ga-’ga (and Chu-bo Ga’-ga’), Na’-ra-’dza’-ra (and Chu-bo Na-ra) , rMa-chab sNgon-mo and Sho rTsang-po (and Khyi-sha rTsang-po); see Dga’ thang: 72, 203-204, ff. 24-25. The forms ’Ga’-’ga’ and Bhan-ksha - that likely inspired Khyi-sha - occur in quadripartite schemes of the ‘Four Sons of Heaven’ theory in the Old Tibetan document PT 958; MacDonald 1962. The form Na’-ra-’dza’-ra appears to be one of many transcription varieties of the Sanskrit hydronym Nairañjanā in Tibetan translations of the Buddha vita. The name Lu-tig is unknown to me, but may be a variation of Lo-hi-ta written in some premodern Tibetan language works for the Lohit River of far north-east Arunachal Pradesh; e.g., see Aris 1995 on ’Jigs-med-gling-pa’s Lho phyogs rgya gar gyi gtam. For example, in the Khrus rabs chanted by the bon po of the Kheng Chikor village of Nyimshong on the west bank of the Jamkhar Chu, the nine types of water listed come from six rivers, being the Ma-ri, Ku-ri, Grang-med, Yong-ri, Gong-ri and lCam-mkhar, plus the waters of local springs, confluences of streams, and irrigation channels. Based on and numbered from Changmadung 1: 1b, 6-2b, 1 with readings from Changmadung 4: da ni lha la bsangs rabs yod // tsan dan shing dang de dang gcig // [2b] byang chub shing dang de dang gnyis // spos dkar shing dang de dang gsum // A gar shing dang de dang bzhi // ma gu ru ta shing de dang lnga // mkhan pa shing dang de dang drug // shug gu shing dang de dang bdun // bha lu su lu de dang brgyad // lha shing shug pa da dang dgu // shing sna dgu po bsdus bsdus te // bsreg ni slang nga’i nang du bsregs // dud pa gnam du song bas ni // g.yas kyi lha ni pho lha bsangs // g.yon gyi lha ni mo lha bsangs // me lce gnam du song bas ni // bar gyi btsan rnams thams cad bsangs // thal ba sa la blugs pas ni // ’og

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gi klu rnams thams cad bsangs // mi la ko long ma thong zhig // mi nga’i skyabs dang mgon [2b] mdzod cig //. Text continued in n. 22 below. The problem here is that plants with this or very similar names are non-woody herbs that do not fit the shing ‘wood’ (or ‘tree’ ) category. Mu-nu-ru-rta or Ru-rta (Saussurea spp.) and Ma-nu-pa-tra (Inula racemosa) are types of thistles and daisies. Here the name may have been intended for another Ma-nu identified Himalayan or Indian woody or tree species, such as Ma-nu-khrag-can or Ma-nu-bse-shing (more commonly Go-bye, Semecarpus anacardium,) or Ma-nu-gsershing (more commonly ‘bamboo’, smyug ma); Pasang Yonten Arya 2001: 176-177, De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 205, 261-262. Text continued from n. 13 above: rim par lung pa’i phu gi spang thang chung ku zer mi cig yod sa lu lhod do / de las spang thang ’di yang brgal te ri bo ’ang ’ung zer lhod / de las smyug ma khara’u khre’u brgal te wang shing gar gir lu lhod pa’i skabs bon po gshen lha thod dkar dang lha’i bu tshu gnam khar phurwa In pas / de las gnam dang sa’i bar lu sa smug pa srab sib las yar ’gyo / de’i ltag lu char pa zam zim rkyab sa las yar ’gyowa da rkyams gcig / gnam rim pa gcig yod sa lu lhod pa In pas / da rung de kha las yar gnam rim pa 12 brgal te ’gyowa da srid pa lha’i yul du lhod do / de khar lhod pa’i skabs dar lcog dkar po dang ma ni dkar po / mchod rten dkar po tshu yod pa yin pa /. Gar gir was explained by informants whose ancestors where Khengkha speakers as meaning “something heavy (gar) swinging around (gir)”, cf. Kurtöp gar ‘thick’ and gir ‘turn, rotate’; Hyslop et al. In Preparation: 26-27. Here the names rTag-cha Ka-blon and Tshig-bzang bTsun-mo are local forms of the Phywa names sTag-cha Yal-yol and Tshe-za Khyadkhyud (or yab sTag-rje ’Al-’ol and yum Tshe-za Khyang-khyung) who are the parents of the Srid-pa’i lHa-rabs mChed-bzhi, including ’O-de Gung-rgyal, in the Tibetan gSang-ba Bon-lugs and Grags-pa Bon-lugs narratives. Continued from n. 17 above: da nga bcas kyi mi yul lu lha med lha ’bad byon gnang / nga bcas kyi mi yul du g.yang med g.yang gnang byon shig / zas lu bcud med zas kyi bcud gnang byon shig / gos lu drod med drod gnang byon shig / lus lu bkrag mdangs med bkrag gnang byon shig / mda’ lu ltong med ltong gnang byon shig / zhu lu tshig med tshig gnang byon shig / gri lu ngar med ngar gnang byon shig /. Different lists of thirteen Srid-pa’i lha deities, with directional and kinship titles, are found in more westerly sites of the cult’s distribution in Bhutan. For another example from Kheng Bjoka, see Bjoka 1: 33a, 1-33b, 1 (with common spellings regularised): lha chen ’O-de Gung-rgyal, shar Yar-lha Sham-po, lho sKu-bla Gangs-ri, nub Ha’o Gang-bzang, byang sNyan-chen Thang-lha, mtshams bzhi ru Lha-gegs Gung-btsan (x 4), pho rTag-cha Ka-blon, ma Tshig-bzang bTsun-mo, A rgyas (‘grandfather’) Tshangs-pa gDung-brgyud, bu lha Gu-ru-bzhes yab. See the rites recorded by Gros 2012: 372-386. Lha byon spang nags mtshams su byon / stag shar bro rdung di ri ri / rta babs ’di ni g.yas su babs. Shaking or trembling is recognised regionally as an indicator of possession, yet I never gained data attesting possession in any form during Srid-pa’i lha worship. Instead, at some sites when the lha is reported to be present on or in the body of a ritual specialist, it is only

Notes to pages 405–418

said to ‘arise’ or ‘manifest’ (bzhengs) in the person as a temporary embodiment. 27 Originally gdong po. ‘Lotus Stem’ here appears generic, in the sense of any place supporting Padmasambhava and his tradition, and thus could refer to any one of multiple sbas yul areas recognised within the region. 28 The Tibetan expression rgyab ri mdun chu means to have support from high ranking persons, and in the present context I take rgyab ri nas dpung gnyen here to be a variation of it. 29 There exist actual lakes called mTsho-dkar and mTsho-nag in highland areas in the region (e.g., at Seng-ge rDzong), but I wonder if this is a coded reference to vegetarian offerings (dkar) on the one hand, and those involving killing of animals (nag) on the other? 30 Since the turquoise is regarded as a material seat for the vitality principle (bla, pla) worn directly on the body, this is clearly a reference to increasing personal vitality. 31 Changmadung 4: 10a, 4-11b, 1: Lha mi dkar rta dkar yas mar byon pa dang // ston pa gshen rab mas yar byon pa gnyis // nags dang spang gi mtshams su mjal // yang cig ston pa gshen rab zhal na re // ya gi mi dkar rta dkar khyod // khyed da sang yong ba gang nas yong // khyed do nub ’gro ba gang di ’gro // khyed kyi pha yi ming de ci skad zer // khyed kyi ma yi ming de [10b] ci skad zer // khyed rang gyi ming de ci skad zer // khyed yang na sdang ba’i dgra yin nam // khyed yang na byams pa’i gnyen yin nam // yang na bdud kyi mi rkun yin // yang na btsan gyi zhags pa yin // yang na thag ring mgron po yin // ngo yang de’u shes de’u ma shes // phyag kyang de’u ’tshal de’u ma ’tsal // de skad ces ni zhus pa dang // lha mi dkar rta dkar zhal na re // nga da sang yong ba lha yi yul nas yong // do nub ’gro ba mi yi yul du ’gro // pha ni rtag cha ka long yin // ma ni tshig bzang btsun mo yin // nga rang ’o de gung rgyal bya ba yin // phu la gangs ri dkar pos bskor // lha gnyan mang po chags pa’i rtags // mda’ la mtsho chen me re re // klu gnyan mang po chags pa’i rtags // bar na brag ri dmar po mtho // btsan gnyan mang po chags pa’i rtags // sbas yul padma’i sdong po ’di nyid ni // bla ma O rgyan gu ru bzugs pa’i gnas // [11a] chu bo gnyis su gyes pa’i lha // thabs shes zung du ’ jug pa’i lha // dgos ’dod shugs las ’byung ba’i lha // rgyab kyi ri nas dpung gnyen zhu ba’i lha // longs spyod lha dang mnyam pa’i lha // phrin las phyogs bcur ’gyed pa’i lha // chos byed rnams ni sku tshe ring ba’i lha // mtsho dkar mtsho nag yon chab phul ba’i lha // mi la lha med lha ru yong ba yin // nor la g.yang med g.yang du yong ba yin // gos la drod med drod du yong ba yin // zas la bcud med bcud du yong ba yin // g.yu la bkrag med bkrag tu yong ba yin // de skad ces ni gsungs pa dang // ston pa gshen rab zhal na re // rta bab de ni g.yas su bab // thod dkar de ni g.yon du phul // lha phyag de ni lan gsum ’tshal // dar dkar gru bzhi gdan du bting // bsang me dmar po gcal du bkram // dar dpyad dung dang bshang yang [11b] skrog // de ring mi dang lha ’dzoms so // lha phebs de ni ’dir phebs so //. 32 For parallel examples of this practice at other sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship, see Dorji Penjore 2004: 60-61 and Tashi Choden 2004: 11-12. 33 For a parallel divination technique performed for the same purpose during the Wamling Kharpu festival, see Dorji Penjore 2004: 61. 34 For the Kheng Wamling Kharpu festival, Dorji Penjore 2004: 55 recorded, “The Bonpo determines the night sky on which karma mindru will catch the moon, and makes a kingkhor (kilkhor-mandala) as pumpkins decked with lhaloi mento (marigold, also called kharpoi mento) and dongdongmai mento. He also decorates his home with those flowers.”

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Changmadung 4: 13b, 5-14a, 1, with readings from Changmadung 1: smra gi yul mo che yi grong khyer na // mkhar po chos kyi glegs bam ’dra // mi rnams phug rong nad pa ’dra // tshe bcol g.yang bcol gang du bcol // ri gsum rtse la tshe mi bcol // chu gsum mdo la tshe mi [14a] bcol // brag dmar logs la tshe mi bcol // pha A pa’i drung du tshe bcol ba // ma A ma’i drung du tshe bcol ba //. Changmadung 4: 14b, 1-15a, 1: A ha’i / de ring tshe dang g.yang ni gang nas zhu // gangs kyi seng ge dkar mo’i tshe g.yang zhu // snang srid zil gyis gnon pa’i tshe g.yang zhu // de ring tshe zhu g.yang zhu gang du zhu // A legs zla ba lta bu’i tshe yang zhu // gsal po nyi ma lta bu’i g.yang yang zhu // de ring tshe zhu g.yang zhu gang du zhu // yul stod dpal gyi tshe g.yang zhu // yul smad dpal gyi tshe g.yang zhu // tshe gcig yod pa sku yi tshe // tshe gnyis yod pa gsung gi tshe // tshe gsum yod pa thugs kyi tshe // tshe bzhi yod pa yon tan tshe // tshe lnga yod pa phrin las tshe // yul la bkra shis sgo mang lta bu’i tshe g.yang zhu // de ring tshe zhu g.yang yang zhu // pha rtag cha ka long tshe g.yang zhu // ma tshig bzang btsun mo tshe g.yang zhu // lha ’o de gung rgyal tshe g.yang zhu // yab skyid bu lung btsan tshe g.yang zhu // [15a] ma mtsho sman rgyal mo tshe g.yang zhu // ston pa gshen rab tshe g.yang zhu // las smon ’brel ba’i tshe g.yang zhu //. These two lines refer to the upper (stod) thirteenth level of the sky world from where the Srid-pa’i lha first descend and the lower (smad) third level where they rest each night during worship. Changmadung 4: 15a, 2-15b, 4: A ha’i // de ring tshe bcol g.yang bcol gang du bcol // pha dad pa can la tshe bcol ba // ma dad pa can la g.yang bcol ba // tshe bab g.yang bab dgung stod dkyil nas babs // dgung stod dpal ni bab sa bzang // dgung smad dpal ni bzhugs sa bzang // lha longs spyod che ba’i dpal rnams ’dir bab ’dir byon cig // de ring tshe bcol g.yang bcol gang du bcol // shar gyi phyogs su bcol snyam na // shar na dri za pho mo yod // de na ltas ngan bya byed mang // de la tshe dang g.yang mi bcol // lho yi phyogs su bcol snyam na // lho na gshin rje pho mo yod // de na yi dwags bkris skom mang // de la tshe dang g.yang mi bcol // nub kyi phyogs su bcol snyam na // nub na klu dbang pho mo [15b] yod // de na nga rgyal phrag dog mang // de la tshe dang g.yang mi bcol // byang gi phyogs su bcol snyam na // byang na gnod sbyin pho mo yod // de na gti mug zhe sdang mang // de la tshe dang g.yang mi bcol // nam mkha’ yas la pha rol na // rgya mtsho mas la dkyil nyid na // gting zab mtah’ med ya la la // de la tshe dang g.yang mi bcol // phya ni skyes pa pho la bcol // g.yang ni za ma mo la bcol // tshe ni byis pa chung la bcol // pha A pa dad pa can gyi lag tu bcol // ma A ma dad pa can gyi lag tu bcol //. Cf. CT ’gam. This possibly relates to a feature of the Kheng Chikor nawan changpa rite during which groups of teenage boys accompany the priest from house to house, receive a share of the food offering, and then shout ‘Nan!’ or ‘Full!’ meaning ‘it should be full’; see Dorji Penjore 2004: 63. Pho legs mo legs in Bhutan is derived from the A-lce lha-mo narrative known as Chos rgyal nor bzang which is a tale of love and morality typical of the genre. On the former ‘procham’ (i.e., bro ’cham) for which men were clad as female performers at Wamling, see Dorji Penjore 2004: 67, cf. also Pommaret 2014: 37-38 on an example from Ngangla Trong further south-east of Kheng Chikor. This comment by the narrator is a joke, comparing the hunt for wild animals with a phenomenon in Bhutanese rural life more recently glossed as “night-hunting” but known in Khengkha as bomena,

619

Notes to pages 418–420

43

44 45

46

47 48

49

50 51

52

620

literally ‘[to go] towards a girl’. Dorji Penjore 2009: 1 defined bomena as “a custom whereby a boy stealthily enters a girl’s house at night for courtship or coitus with or without prior consultation.” Those who practice bomena must climb up to windows or upper entrances to discretely access the middle floor of a traditional Bhutanese house where the inhabitants sleep, but the sexual allusion in yar yar ’gro is clear. The narrator clarified the colloquial Khengkha construction stod dkar stod dmar (i.e., stod + qualifier stod + qualifier) and parallel forms here as merely an aberrant version of the common ‘stod + qualifier smad + qualifier’. The form ro stod ro smad often occurs in the same context to refer to the body of a ransom animal in other glud rabs collected from this part of the Himalayas. ‘Sharopa’ written sha rog means ‘hunter’ in Khengkha; the shortened form sha pa is also used here. mGon-po rDo-rje (alias Khyi-ra Ras-pa) is the most famous hunter in Tibetan Buddhist literature, whom the saint Mi-la Ras-pa converted as a disciple. In the present context, one can note the colour coding of the main animals in the fifteenth century Khyi ra ras pa dang mjal ba narrative, where the stag is black (sha ba nag po) and the bitch is red (khyi mo dmar mo); see gTsang-smyon He-ru-ka 1981: 430–442. The narrator explained this is the hunter mGon-po rDo-rje’s son aged three, who was in his pregnant mother’s womb when his father died. The son’s name is nearly identical with that of the twin Brokpa pastoralist and semi-pastoralist settlements of Me-rag and Sagstengs in far eastern Bhutan. This pass crosses the range between Langthil in the Mangde Chu catchment and Domkhar to the north. The narrator identified this as the so-called Monpa communities who speak dialects of the Black Mountain language in central Bhutan, west of Kheng; see van Driem 2001, II: 918–933, and Pommaret 1999. sPang bya (lit. ‘bird of alpine meadows’, variously bya mda’, bye mda’ or bya mdangs in written Dzongkha), refers to the monal (Lophophorus impejanus) and other closely related species of mountain pheasant whose feathers are highly prized by serious archers throughout Bhutan as the best arrow flights. Cang rDo-rje 2000: 55 noted that because the red tail feathers of these mountain pheasants were used as arrow flights by the second King of Bhutan, ’Jigs-med dBang-phyug (1905–1952), who is well remembered as having been a passionate archer (Karma Ura 2011 [1995]: 54–57, 68–69), their use by all other archers was prohibited. Ku’i is the Khengkha word for ‘bowstring’ (Dzongkha skud and gzhu thag). While ‘pong[ma] shug’ literally means ‘strong shoulder’ in Khengkha, nub gzhu dpung zhu seems be a premodern proper name for a specific bow type. Nub gzhu refers to one of three famous traditional Bhutanese bow types, the so-called brda li sing thagm which came from the far western (nub, actually south-western) region of Dalikha (written brDa-gling-kha and brDa-li-kha in various Dzongkha sources) which is nowadays part of West Bengal; Cang rDo-rje 2000: 51. This is a triple-peaked mountain above the village of Kungarabten in the Mangde Chu valley, and abode of a btsan spirit of the same name.

53

54

55

56

57

58

Cf. also the site named Sha-med Gangs-dkar in Dotson 2012: 25 n. 29 and Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 181-198. Re here indicates hearsay in Khengkha, and them spang literally means ‘turned away from the threshold [i.e., the house door]’. The narrator interpreted the overall meaning as the despair of the inexperienced hunter’s son who had no living father to teach him how to hunt; see nn. 45-46 above. So ra in Khengkha, mda’i so ras in Dzongkha. Old-style quivers in east Bhutan are fashioned from a bamboo tube, and the allusion here is apparently to cooking and serving food. In most areas east of the Mon-yul Corridor, hill peoples have cooked, served and stored certain foods by filling them into bamboo tubes; see, for example, Deuri 1982: 44, Bagra 1981: 44. Chanted by bon po Rinzin Dorji on 10 March 2012, transcribed by Dorji Gyaltsen, and translated by Toni Huber with clarification of Khengkha idiom by Rinzin Dorji: Sha ba rabs // bu nga ni yar yar ’gro // sha ba stod dkar stod dmar ’di na ’phrad // rgyal po nga yang tshe nyam lus nyam ’di ’gro // rtsis pas tha ma bltas // rgyal po’i tshe nyam lus nyam // sha ba stod dkar stod dmar // srog ni sha bas bcad so // sha rog mgon po rdo rje se se la // sha rog me rog sag steng la // dug ngang mda’ la las khur shog // lcags mon pa’i yul las khur shog // sgro ni spang bya’i sgro khur shog // ku’i ni mon yul las khur shog // gzhu ni nub gzhu dpung zhu dgos // mda’ ni gangs dkar sha med las // len nas sha rog nga la dgos // nga ni A ma rgas mo’i lus la ’khor // them spang re la U shu re // la gcig brgal na lung gcig thon // ’di na sha ba nag po mthong // ’di nga yi mda’ dpag ci // nga ni min la bdud kyi sha ba yin // sha ba stod dkar stod dmar la’i rgyab tu yod // la gcig brgal na lung gcig bab // ’di na sha ba ser po mthong // ’di na nged ni mda’ dpag so // nga ni klu’i sha ba yin // sha ba stod dkar stod dmar la’i rgyab tu yod // la gcig brgal na lung gcig bab // ’di na sha ba dmar po ’phrad // ’di na nged ni mda’ dpag so // nga ni btsan gyi sha ba yin // sha ba stod dkar stod dmar khyod min pas // sha ba stod dkar stod dmar la’i rgyab tu yod // ’di na nyin ’ga’i sngon du song ba’i rkang rjes mthong // sha khyi kha dkar kha nag gnyis kyang btang // ’di na sha ba stod dkar stod dmar mthong // sha bas nga ni rgyal po’i tshe nyam lus nyam bzo mi nga ni min // sha pas khyod yin sha khyi kha dkar kha nag gnyis kyis shes // ’di na sha pas bsad mda’ sha ba’i rked la ’phen // de tshe sha bas nga ni bdud kyi sha ba yin // shi bar lung pa’i mda’ lu ’gro // nga ni btsan gyi sha ba yin // shi bar lung pa’i phu la ’gro // nga ni lha’i sha ba yin // shi bar lha’i yul du ’gro // nga ’thung na brag chu sngon mo ’thung // za na spang sing sngon mo bza’ // nyal na brag gi rtse mor nyal // shi na spangs dang nags kyi mtshams su shi // zer zhing sha pa sdug tu bcug // mtha’ ma sha ba shi bas sha pa yis // rwa ’di rgyal po’i sras la yin // nang khrol rgyal po’i sras glud yin // btsugs na so ra’i dong cung nang // zer zhing ’ong ste rgyal po yis // pho brang sleb pas rgyal sras nad las grol //. Anna Balikci 2008: 15, 353–354 n. 8, 361 reported the performance of an oral version of a narrative named Bon shwa ba’i rwa brgyad by a ritual specialist termed pawo at Tingchim in central Sikkim. This appears to share certain elements in common with the Sha ba ru rgyas tradition discussed here. Thomas 1957: ch. IV, 69–70 (text), 87–88 (transl.), Stein 1971: 502–503, Blondeau and Karmay 1998, and Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu 1994: 413–421. See the Dang, Khotan ii and iv, and Gurung story summaries in Allen 1997.

Notes to pages 420–426

59

60

61

62 63 64 65

66

Compare also the glud-like use of a model stag related to healing in the Naxi dtô-mbà rite Hâr lâ llù’ k’ó’. Rock 1952, II: plate LII and caption reported, “on the ground is a stag made of willow twigs (Salix myrtillacea) this stag is loaded with food, Hô’-lù’-mbhú’, and also the illness etc., which is believed the demons have inflicted on the family, it is taken out towards the end of the ceremony.”, cf. Rock 1959: 804. See also He Limin and He Shicheng 1998: 142, 147 pls. Sha ba ru rgyas kyi mdos quoted in Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu 1994: 414: gzhogs g.yas stod dkar po / smad dmar po bya / gzhogs g.yon stod sngon po smad ser po / mjug ma nag po / ’phang dkar po / sgab ser po bya /. See Dorji Penjore 2004: 61-63 on Wamling. I observed identical rites at Nyimshong on the opposite side of the valley from Wamling during 2014. Cf. also Tashi Choden 2004: 11 for a version performed during the Habon festival at Gortshom during 2002. Dorji Penjore 2009: 40, 171. A response elicited from a Khengkha speaker on my behalf by Gwendolyn Hyslop pers. comm. 22 April 2013. See the example cited by Dorji Penjore 2009: 34. Dorji Penjore 2009: 33-34, 44, 48 n. 92; the Rgyal rigs: 35b-36a, cf. Aris 1986: 50-51. Dorji Penjore 2009: 48-49 cites the Shingkhar Dung, which was a sub-lineage descended from Tunglabi Dung, as if they appeared in the older documents, although this claim is apparently based upon oral sources. Informant reasons given for out-migration included work-seeking in the growing wage labour market in urbanising centres (Thimphu, Paro, Trongsa, Mongar, and so on) or hydro projects, the declining viability of farming due to crop destruction by wild pest animals and inability to generate cash income, education in distant places due to lack of local facilities, and neolocal marriage to other migrants now settled in urbanising centres.

11. The Ba pu Lh asöshe Festiva l of Thempa ng 1

2 3

Sö she here is the past tense form of Dirang Tshangla sö wen, ‘propitiation/worship’, cf. Das Gupta 1968: 80 so-wan tha-han. Thus, Bapu Lhasöshe literally means ‘the Bapu propitiated the lha’. Informants sometimes use the sö wen form or even the cognate CT term lha gsol kha. For the sake of English style, I opt for the present tense here. The short and flawed account of the 2011 Bapu Lhasöshe by Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 95-97 ignores both the spoken Tshangla of Thempangpa and local written sources to misrepresent the festival name as both lhasushi and lhalushi which they render variously as CT lha zhu gzi (p. 95) or lha zhu gzhi (p.97), terms never occurring in local ritual texts. Located at 27°20’27”N, 92°23’16.05”E, at 2154 metres altitude. These small satellite settlements include Guntung, Pangma, Semnak, Cherrong (meaning ‘stream’ in Dakpa) and Panchavali. They were historically developed in two ways: Guntung, Pangma and Semnak were originally areas of cultivation (pam) distant from old Thempang at which Bapu families and their Gila partner clans gradually settled, while Cherrong and Panchavali formed as new

settlements for Merakpa and Lhopsonga pseudo-clan members who arrived as later immigrants. 4 This is a new locally created name for addressing the politics of Scheduled Tribe (ST) identities. The inhabitants of Rahung, Khuitam, Khoina and But (i.e., Jirigaon) speak Kho-Bwa cluster languages but are not locally accepted as belonging to either the official Sherdukpen or Monpa ST categories, and now seek to avoid being politically and administratively subsumed under the Miji ST. 5 Van Driem 2001: 472-481, and Blench and Post 2011. 6 The first mentions of Them-spang as an established and significant community come in the Fifth Dalai Lama’s edict of 1680 (Aris 1980: 13, 15) and the Rgyal rigs: 28a of 1688, both of which imply it existed long prior to those dates. The only genuine, earlier eye-witness account of the area we have is Padma Gling-pa’s itinerary of his 1507 route from Shar Dong-kha’ (Domkho of today) via Phu-dung to Dung ’Di-rang. If Them-spang had existed at that time, he would have only passed far to the west of it; see Aris 1979: 103-106. 7 See Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 11b-12b, and MacKenzie 1884: 19 on the impacts of this conflict on Thempang’s relations with Assam. 8 No doubt the main reason for “Miji” featuring in recent oral history narratives is that actual Miji raids were among the very last to have occurred during the mid-1940s, and prior decades, and immediately before the Indian administration put a stop to the practice with the “Lamai Column” expedition of the Assam Rifles into Miji or Dhammai territory during December 1946; see Ali 1946: 3, 18-19. 9 Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 29a-29b, reported that around 1824 there was a great deal of forceful stealing of salt and other things from Tawang (Tsho-gsum) traders by both Sher and sTug (i.e., Sherdukpen), and moreover that they beat up the Shar merchants with their fists (sher stug gnyis nas mtsho gsum gyi tshong pa la tshwa sogs ’phrog pa’i dbang yod mang dag ma zad bar shar tshong dpon kyang brdung rdzog btang). The oldest eye-witness evidence of such attacks in the region dates to 1507, and occurs on a journey between Shar Dom-kha and Dung ’Di-rang when protective garments must be worn against the frightful Kha-khra (de dus yar yong dus / kha khra’i ’ jigs pa skyob phyir go cha gyon pa); Padma Gling-pa n.d: 153b. 10 Balipara 1947: 11. 11 See the quotation from the Rgyal rigs: 28a translated below; cf. Aris 1986: 42-43. 12 Entry them spang in BGT: 1186 rang gi sdod khang gi sgo’i phyir gyar du mi ’ jug pa’i man ngag sogs, cf. Goldstein 2001: 501. 13 See posa entry “Thebengiah Bhootia Rajahs” commencing 1844, Assam Secretariat 1882 on the ninth page of the file, Aitchison 1929, 12: 100-101, MacKenzie 1884: 19, and Reid 1942: 301-302. 14 rMag-sgo (or rMa-sgo) belonged to the yab gzhi house of bSam-grub Pho-brang in Lhasa, the family line of the Seventh Dalai Lama; Bailey and Morshead 1914: 12-13, Petech 1973: 32-39. 15 Ali 1945: 3-4, 23; plus interview data from Thempang collected 2010-2012. 16 The origins of the Phudung tribute are not known. It ceased in the early 1940s; Ali 1945: 23. The Lish tribute, which also ceased in the 1940s, consisted of annual payments of a sheep, rice and maize, as well as the obligation of supplying food and lodging to any

621

Notes to pages 426–429

17 18

19 20 21

22

23 24

25

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Thempang Bapus who where travelling through the area; interview data from Lish 2011. On Lish see n. 54 of ch. 1, and on Phudung see Ali 1945: 18 and Ali 1946: 4. This trade route was used by the Thempangpa, the Miji and the Puroik (Sulung); see Rustomji 1952: 3; Ali 1945: 3-4, 23; Bailey and Morshead 1914: 75-76, 138-140; Deuri 1982: 8. Kennedy 1913-1914: 60, Aitchison 1929, 12: 101. See the Fifth Dalai Lama’s edict in Aris 1980: 13-14. This separate village is claimed by contemporary Thempangpa to have originally descended from their Bapu clans, and historical documents generally support this. The Rgyal rigs – our oldest record of the site – state’s Namshu’s residents were party to a consensus driven expedition lead by the two founding Ye-spang lineages to invite a Jo-bo clan scion from lHa’u Kham-pa, so as to provide stable leadership of all Dirang area settlements. Mention is also made of elite clan intermarriage between Dakpa Jo-bo clan males from lHa’u and Bapu titled A ya women from Namshu, albeit that no dates are known for either event apart from the age of the text itself; Rgyal rigs 2: 112-113, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 53a-b, 56a, 4-6. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, documents from Tawang always refer to the settlement together with Them-spang as a combined community under the abbreviated name Nam-them; see Blo-bzang Thabsmkhas ca. 1826: 11a-12b. During the early twentieth century, Ali 1945: 3 reported that Namshu intermarried exclusively with the main Bapu clan villages and some Sherdukpen. In 1947, F.N. Betts collected the information that “Namshu was originally a colony of Thembang” when he visited the village; see Balipara 1947: 13. Cf. also the narrative reported in Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 157. The decline of the site has probably been gradual. A century ago in Thempang, Kennedy 1913-1914: 60 visited and noted “a small gompa, but there is no lama”. Also written Nam-gzhi, Nam-shu and Mam-shu in indigenous documents. Oral tradition attributes this foundation to the dGe-lugs-pa missionary lama Blo-bzang bsTan-pa’i sgron-me (active late fifteenth to mid-sixteenth centuries), see also earlier oral traditions reported by Ali 1945: 11-12, cf. also Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 68-69, figs. 4.9-4.10. Lobsang Tenpa 2013: 9 has noted there are no available historical documents to confirm this tradition. In his brief essay “Buddhist Societies of Kameng District”, Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982 argued that Dirang region had no ‘clans’, but rather only ‘status groups’. His assessment, based upon merely a few days of fieldwork in the area during 1980 (see von Fürer-Haimendorf 1980 for details) without any knowledge of local spoken and written languages, is flawed. It fails to take account of local conceptual distinctions and social practices, is not informed by any relevant historical documents, and makes no analysis of how ‘clan’ or ‘social status’ may or may not be appropriate labels for representing local phenomena and terminology. In concert, various Indian scholars have incorrectly labelled aspects of local social organisation in the Dirang region as ‘caste-like’ without addressing the practical and theoretical dynamics of the entire descent system; see Chowdhury 1975.

26 27

See the review in Oppitz 2007. All one can generally venture is that in extensive versions of the Shar sDe-rang genealogy supplement found in some Rgyal rigs redactions, the use of rus (albeit with rgyud and mi tshan) appears reserved to designate clans with myths of primordial origins, namely the gTsang-mo, Ba-gi and Khyung-mo or dGon-pa-ba; see appendices G and H. 28 For instances, see CT pha tshan, tshan zla, rus tshan, rus kyi pha tshan, kham tshan, khu tshan, and so on. John Ardussi 2002: 13 translated tshan as ‘family faction’ when discussing pre-seventeenth century historical data on the sPa-gro region of western Bhutan. Although perhaps prudent for that case, without knowing which categories of persons ‘family’ includes this construct is too vague. The oldest Tibetan references to tshan descent groups I have found are the terms tshan pa and rus tshan pa to gloss the four proto-clans collectively called Mi’u-rigs-bzhi in the Bka’ chems: 56, 58. Since the clan scheme which appears in Section V of the Rgyal rigs is clearly derived from the southern Tibetan work Bshad mdzod, which in turn depended upon the Bka’ chems, there may even be some continuity between these sources and the tshan terminology used in this part of the Himalayas. 29 See, for example, n. 65 of ch. 1 for the definition by Godelier 2011: 558. By comparison, the five criteria suggested by Aris 1979: 98 for study of clans in the research region are artificial since they are not derived from ethnographic realities. His criteria included “each clan or sub-clan should have its own hereditary ruler and hereditary vassals” and “clan territory should be well defined”, although they fail to take account of any migrant and resettled clans who become dependents and clients of others – and the Mon-yul Corridor is full of such cases – but who nevertheless fulfil Godelier’s definition perfectly. 30 In 2011, clan household distribution by settlement was: old Thempang (Bapu 40, Gila 14), Guntung (Bapu 5, Gila 2), Pangma (Bapu 3, Gila 7), Semnak (Bapu 2, Gila 7), Cherrong (Gila 4) and Panchavati (Gila 8). The old Thempang figure includes some Bapu households who have migrated out to Dirang town area, but who maintain their ancestral house and participate in communal events back in the village. 31 See Rgyal rigs: 28a for Them-spang ba spu, Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 8a for Shar-phyogs ba spu, and Rgyal rigs 2: 113 for Nam-shu’i A ya, while the ba spu and A ya titles were also used in Shar Dom-kha and Mur-shing; Rgyal rigs: 24b, Rgyal rigs 2: 113. Aris 1986: 52-53 mistakenly read one occurrence of A ya in the Rgyal rigs as simply meaning ‘a girl’ rather than a clan status title. 32 The suggestion by Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 495 n. 58 that ba spu derives from the Bengali or Hindi usage ‘babu’ (i.e., bābū) will be hard to substantiate unless pre-seventeenth century examples or contacts with those languages can be demonstrated for the area. This is unlikely since the central Mon-yul Corridor bordered southern areas with speakers of other Tibeto-Burman languages, including Bodo, Koch, Hruso, Miji and Kho-Bwa languages/dialects, while the oldest attestation of the Anglo-Indian – and thus highly mobile – baboo usage only dates to 1781; see Yule and Burnell 1903 [1868]: 44. 33 For example, on women in the Kyirong A ya lineage, Ramble 2007: 708 notes “Descendants of women of the [A ya] lineage who still lived in the family house here prefixed their personal names not with Aya

Notes to pages 429–431

34 35

36

37

38

39

40

but with the title ‘Adrong’ (A grong)—a contraction of A ya grong pa: ‘members of the Aya household. ’” See Oppitz 1974, Oppitz 1968: 100-104 on Sherpa social organisation as the complex artefact of long-term migration processes. Merakpa are said to have originally migrated from the Merak-Sakteng pastoral region of far eastern Bhutan, and the name also occurs for other low ranked clans in villages throughout Dirang Circle together with the same migration narrative. Lhopsonga migrated from Lhau village in Tawang, and their name derives from “Lhop” as a local pronunciation of Lhaupa (CT lHa’u-pa) and Tshangla songa meaning ‘man’. Nyimsong (sometimes also Nyimu) migrated from the Radi Phongmé area of the Gamri Chu valley in eastern Bhutan, and the name is a colloquial pronunciation of the old clan name Nyi-mo (also Nyin-mo) with Tshangla songa. For Sharmu there are two explanations. Shar-mo is an older clan name in the Rgyal rigs, and those redactions of the text including the long version of the Shar sDe-rang genealogies (see Mor shing rgyal rigs: 57a and cf. Rgyal rigs 2: 110-111) list Shar-mu as one of the original four communities (lding bzhi) of sNyog-gdung (i.e., modern Nyukmadung), with the term lding being commonly used in the northern Mon-yul Corridor, north-east Bhutan and southern Tibet to identify pastoral communities. Sharmu is pronounced Tsarmu by some, allowing it to be identified with the same name existing for a clan of the neighbouring Sartang village of Rahung. Some Bapu informants classed the Sharmu as gidu, here referring to the indigenous, nonBuddhist Kho-bwa language speaking inhabitants of communities like Rahung. Sharmu have their separate autochthonous deity, which seems to support the second interpretation. A third social division, the yanlak, are considered completely outside the clan system and hold a very low status. Their social origins remain opaque compared to Bapu and Gila groups. The designation is from CT yan lag literally meaning ‘appendage, something subordinate to a greater thing’; Jäschke 1881: 507. Dirkhipa formerly had the Chungsong pseudo-clan as their Gila, however the latter dwindled in number and dispersed. They then gave land to Nyimsong members and came to share them as Gila with Atajipu. Local oral tradition states that a branch of the Thempang Khochilu migrated to Namshu to form a separate social and ritual unit with Bapu status and two divisions, the Dungtödpa (lit. ‘those of the upper village’) and Khochilu, whose Gila are Sharmu and Khomu, respectively; cf. n. 21 above. A ‘big bone’ terminology is also found among the Tamang of east Nepal; see Macdonald 1983: 130-131, 146-147 nn. 16, 17, 20; cf. also CT rus mtho ba and rus dma’ ba as bone status markers, Jäschke 1881: 532. While the principal dietary division of beef and sheep/mutton versus pork and chicken is constant among these clans, informant responses varied on details. Some at Thempang including bear meat as being taboo for Bapu, while other informants at Dirang Busti included goat, wild boar, chicken, eggs, onion and garlic as taboo for Bapu; cf. Barua 1995a: 228, Barua and Ahmad 1995 : 233. Bapu informants in all villages report that observance of dietary taboos has been in strong decline since the mid- to late-twentieth century in the Dirang region, largely due to the influences of modern “Indian” life-style,

41

42

43

44

non-prescriptive intermarriage, and out-migration from natal villages for employment and education. In different regional dialects of north-east Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, arpo (written Ar po) refers to martial figures armed with swords who participate in certain community rites, as well as acting as the assistants of bon po ritual specialists (see ch. 10). This differs from Classical Tibetan Ar po designating builders and labourers who construct walls and houses of earth and stone, which apparently informed “menials” in the Aris 1986: 43 translation. Aris 1986: 42 hypercorrected chos mdzad to chos rje. Elsewhere in the Rgyal rigs and other local texts the title chos mdzad occurs frequently. For example, the chos mdzad Lug-dkar of the Yas-sde clan was a patron of the Rgyal rigs’s author (f. 47a). Aris 1986: 42 hypercorrected gyi do to glo perhaps intending klo? Spoken gidu is the generic Tshangla term used in the central Mon-yul Corridor to designate various adjacent non-Buddhist populations, in particular the Dhimmai (Miji), Hruso (Aka), and Bangni; cf. ghrî dho in ’Jigs-med Gling-pa’s account of 1789 in Aris 1995: 18-21. The phrase kha dkar kha nag – literally ‘white mouth, black mouth’ – here is a well-known Classical Tibetan composite ethnonym applied in a blanket fashion, and cannot be used to indicate any specific modern or historical ethnic identity. On the one hand it could have referred to ancestors of the ethnographic Dhimmai and Hruso among whom both men and women traditionally painted their faces and lips with black patterns (i.e., kha nag) using a mix of pine resin and charcoal, while their facial tattooing is exclusively female. It might have also applied to ancestors of the ethnographic Sherdukpen, about whom Mills 1948: 5 reported in 1945, “Girls, and more rarely boys, ornament their faces with lozenges of a black pigment made of resin and soot applied with a little wood stamp.” On the other hand, it might refer to ancestors of the ethnographic Bangni and Sulung (and potentially also Bugun and Sherdukpen) whose adult males did not decorate their faces (i.e., kha dkar); see Kennedy 1914: 7, Sinha 1962: 30-31, Deuri 1977: 19, 22, 25, 27-28, 31, 34-35, Ahmad 1995: 200, 204, Pandey 1996: 42, cf. Assamese aka meaning “painting/painted” as an ethnonym for the Hruso. Them spang rgyal rigs: 47a, 2-48b,1, which preserves the best readings (cf. the edition and translation in Aris 1986: 42-43): [47a, 2]…/ bu chung ba dpal la dar / lha sa bsam yas nas yongs [read: yong] ba’i sgom chen gsum dang chas nas / Ar po gnyis khrid nas / lha sa bsam yas mjal ba la song nas / bod kyi sgom chen gnyis dang bcas lo ro phyogs nas slog te / shar them spang la sleb ba dang / sgom chen [47b] gnyis kyis / wang ma dpal la dar la zhe sa che brjod byas nas / lha btsun zer nas bos pas / them spang gi gtso rgan A rgyal zer bas / lha btsun zer ba’i ming gi rgyu mtshan ci yin zer ba la / sgom chen rgan pa na re / lha btsun chos mdzad zer ba de / sngon gyi bsam yas kyi rgyal po khri srong lde ntsan gyi sras brgyud yin pas na / lha btsun zer ba yin zer bas / gtso rgan A rgyal yid ches nas / ’o na de ltar yin na nged rang gi rje [48a] dpon / gyi do kha dkar kha nag gi kha gnon la bzhugs dgos pa ’dug zer nas / blon ’bangs rnams kyis bkur zhing / rgya’i las sgo la dbang bsgyur bas / ba spu zer ba de rgya skad kyi ming btags pa yin / ’ga’re nas them spang ba spu’i chad khung bsam yas nas yin zer ba yang / wang ma dpal la dar bsam yas phyogs nas yong ba las rten nas zer ba yin / them spang las chad pa’i ba spu tham chad wang ma dpal la dar gyi brgyud pa [48b] yin no //.

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Notes to pages 432–435

45

The narrator spelled the word out in Tibetan as mda’, meaning a ‘lowland’ or ‘river valley bottom’ but also a class of spirits who dwell in such places as opposed to phu ‘highland’ beings. 46 This earlier twelve-yearly timing cannot be confirmed, but if the case, it would represent a major exception to the timing schemes used for all other Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals. The last line of the farewell chant to the lha used during the festival states, “Now we will not meet to invite you [again] for a twelve-year cycle” (da ni lo skor bcu gnyis gdan mi mjal /); Thempang 1: 31b, 6. 47 Mazbat (26°79’5”N, 92°29’E) also called Namati, in Darrang or the historic Char duar, was the premodern trading point for Thempangpa in Assam from at least the early nineteenth century; MacKenzie 1884: 19. Thempangpa and Rahungpa descended to the plains there each winter for trade and to collect tribute payments; Ali 1946: 2, 6, 18. Their main trade was conducted with long-term Boro partners, rather than Assamese caste Hindus. Amongst other goods, there was exchange of tree pepper seed (khagi, i.e., Sichuan Pepper, Zanthoxylum sp.) grown in the Mon-yul Corridor for Boro raw silk cloth. 48 Colloquial brokpa nunu (lit. ‘pastoralist baby’) refers to such child minders in the local dialect. 49 Yong in Tshangla, with its meaning as expressed in local discourse and ritual being more or less equivalent to the ‘mobile vitality principle’ accepted by speakers of East Bodish languages (i.e., pla, etc.) and Tibetans (cf. CT bla). 50 CT rje dpon, ‘lord-chief ’, a title familiar from the Rgyal rigs. 51 Narrated by Gungtung Ao in Dirang Tshangla dialect and recorded twice: unelicited in a Tsheshomba lhabrang house on 19 February 2011, and once again elicited at Pangma in Gungtung Ao’s house on the following day, with Sangye Tsering as translator for both narrations. Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 96 cite a much abbreviated version of this narrative collected at Thempang sometime during 2010 or 2011 without identifying the informant(s), social setting of the narration, original language of narration, translation details or date of recording. 52 The name was spelled out orally in Tibetan during the telling by the narrator, although his etymology appears novel. Banga-ga-byang is the spelling in the oldest textual reference we have for the site referring to the years 1803/04; see Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas: 6b, 7b. Recent texts have sBa-ga-byang and Bham-ga-byang. 53 Das Gupta 1968: ii explained – presumably reporting his local informants – that the Thempangpa “migrated via Mago and settled at Thembang.” 54 I have abridged the story here, since at this point in the narrative a great many local toponyms are explained in this way using folk etymologies. Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 18 reported a variant of this motif, with at least one toponym as an example. 55 Elicited narration in Dirang Tshangla dialect with elaborations in colloquial Tibetan by Dorje Tsering at Thempang Rizang Thangka on 5 February 2010, with Pasang Tsering Sharchokpa as Tshangla translator. Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 96 cite a much abbreviated version of this narrative collected at Thempang during 2010 or 2011 without identifying the informant(s), social

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57

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59 60 61

62 63 64 65

66

setting of the narration, original language of narration, translation details or date of recording. Compare the clear echoes of the lHa-sras gTsang-ma tale in the Tawang Dakpa version of the Mkha’ ’gro ’gro ba bzang mo narrative about Mon Ka-la dBang-po, in which the son, a prince named Lhasras rGyal-po, goes south into exile, is recognised as a great man and invited to rule at Thempang; Tashi Lama 1999: 83-87. For example, reference to E[-yul] lHa-rgya-ri in the first narrative as a place of origins occurs in many oral and written accounts of the dGe-lugs-pa school throughout the region. One tradition states that the sixth and seventh incarnations of Blo-bzang bsTan-pa’i sgron-me (active late fifteenth to mid-sixteenth centuries), the founding figure of Buddhism in Tawang, were from E lHa-rgya-ri; see Sarkar 1980: 12. Such references may date back to the seventeenth century; see Aris 1986: 119 n. 51. For example, the Banggajang lake in the second story is associated with both oral and written narratives related to hunting; see Blurton 2013, and the local pilgrimage guidebook texts Bham ga byang and Sba ga byang for details. Huber 2010: 309 n.19 and references cited therein. Balikci 2008: 166, 346. The literal Boro meaning of the name Kulay Gunkay is directly related to the Tshangla narrative of Mila and Yonda’s death; see Bhat 1968: 57 for Boro ku ‘hit with the fist’; 141 lay ‘because’; 73 gunsa ‘thread’, guna ‘wire’; 53 kay ‘to scratch, draw lines, scratch with a pointed object.’ At Rowta Chowk, Udalguri, 23 December 2011, with Kanak Roy as translator, identity of the informant unknown. Kapstein 2000, cf. also Kollmar-Paulenz 2006: 73-75. Ardussi 2004: 68-69. The symbolic and ritual role of birds, often appearing in pairs or trios, in northern and central Mon-yul mythology parallels that found throughout the whole region of Srid-pa’i lha worship. See, for example, the appearance of pairs of birds in the origin myth and ritual (e.g., in the bya pho mo “dance” performance) of the unique Dungyur ceremony (what Aris 1980: 12 termed the “extended gTor-rgyab festival”) staged every three years at Tawang Monastery; Tashi Lama 1983: 4, 7, Tashi Lama 1999: 74-82. The older folk meanings of these birds have already been erased in glib, recently published Buddhist reinterpretations of the Dungyur; see Tsewang Norbu 2008: 120. The same theme occurs in the A-lce lHa-mo narrative entitled Mkha’ ’gro ’gro ba bzang mo, which is crucial for local notions of identity and history within the Mon-yul Corridor; see Tashi Lama 1999: 85 and Bod kyi lha mo’i zlo gar: 241-242. In several Old Tibetan narratives, we find the theme of the arrival of pairs of birds, often in connection with violence and rescue; see Thomas 1957: 18, 31, 38, 64, 81, and IOL Tib J 731 and IOL Tib J 734. On birds, their eggs and the origin of the yak in Mon-yul Corridor narratives, see Rinchen Dondrup 2008: 26, Lhama Wangchu 2005: 103-104. For example, the written Tibetan place names gDung-phu in Rgyal rigs manucripts has the modern Tshangla pronunciation Dongpu, while the older written name of the Ser-lde/sde lineage is now pronounced Serti, and so on. These might be thought of as direct transformations, however, different transformations are evident

Notes to pages 436–446

67 68 69

70

71

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74 75

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when Tshangla speakers pronounce Tibetan words adopted from Dakpa speakers who have already modified them. For example, CT lha mo is spoken lhamu in Dakpa but also in Tshangla. Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 21-25, figs. 2.5-2.8, table 2.2. Ardussi 2007: 16-17 n. 33. Padma Gling-pa n.d: 153b, 5-6: de nas dung ’di rang zer ba’i sa na sdad dus / ’di rang rgyal pos zhabs rtogs shin tu bzab par byas shing / dar zab kha cig phul nas chos ’brel yang byas /. Note that the hat worn by the two deities in clerical garb on plate 142 is the dgun zhwa or ‘winter hat’ typical of those used by both g.Yungdrung Bon and rNying-ma-pa clerics; see Snellgrove 1967: 270 pl. IIg, and Tucci 1980: 130 fig. 12b. Loosely cognate female Phywa and Srid-pa’i lha names have been appearing in myths since the pre-eleventh century period; see, for example, gnam phyi (‘sky grandmother’) Gung-rgyal-mo in IOL Tib J 731 (Thomas 1957: chapter 1B Text, 18). Guntram Hazod pers. comm. May 2013. The Grang-mo area is also known as Grang-ba, and includes the two adjacent villages/valleys of Grong-mo-che and Grong-mo-chung behind dPal-ri. Sil ma (cf. sil bal) is used in early myths for the white clothing of the progenitor lha; see Mkhas pa lde’u: 236 where the lha sheds his bsil le ma garment to don human clothing for his role as ruler on earth. In ritual practice, a gdan mat for hosting the Srid-pa’i lha, or for dice and pebble divination, is made from lightly felted white wool fibres and the resulting cloth is soft and fine. On the same theme in Naxi myth, see Rock 1963: 53 and references cited therein. Dkar mo nas is ambivalent here since dkar mo often refers to rice grains used exactly for this purpose in ritual. ’Tshangs here is uncertain; I follow BGT: 2324 dbugs sogs gyen du rgyong ba /, cf. Jäschke 1881: 457, although it could be metaphorical for ‘to be assertive’, e.g., BGT: 2324 mi mang po’i dkyil du ‘tshang ba /. The translation is based upon Thempang 1: 24a, 4-25b, 7, which is incomplete in parts, and thus supplemented with readings from Sangti 1: 20a, 4-21b, 4. Sections of formulaic repetition in the text signalled by […] have been excised: lha’i bu spun bzhi sho rgyab pa // sho ni dung dkar po ’byung // ci dang ci la gdan mi dgos // gnam gung ma’i skyil [read: dkyil] nas sho rgyab pa // sho brgyag de la gdan cig dgos // ma’i gting na sil ma gting // de’i steng [24b] na dar dkar gting // dkar mo nas kyi g.yu [read: g.yung] drung bris // legs po bde bo bkram nas su // de yi steng du sho rgyab pa // mda’ rtse de ni g.yon nas rgyab // sho rgyab de ni g.yas nas rgyab // drug gsum rgyab pas bco brgyad ’byung // lha rgyal bram ze sho mig che // sho mig che kyang dga’ mi dgos // gsol kyang bod la gsol ba’i lha // skyabs kyang bod la skyabs pa’i lha // kho ni sho mig che su song // […25a] // lnga gsum rgyab pas bco lnga ’byung // lha rgyal don grub sho mig che // sho mig che kyang dga’ mi dgos // gsol kyang rgya la gsol ba’i lha // skyabs kyang rgya la skyabs pa’i lha // kho ni sho mig che su song // […] // bzhi gsum rgyab pas bco gnyis ’byung // lha rgyal ’brong gnam sho mig che // sho mig che kyang dga’ mi dgos // gsol kyang kun gyis gsol ba’i lha // skyabs kyang kun la skyabs pa’i lha // kho ni sho mig che su song // […25b] // gsum gsum rgyab pas dgu ru ’byung // phu bzang la chong sho mig chung // sho mig chung kyang skyo mi dgos // man bu sdong [read: gdong] dkar ’babs pa’i zer // g.yas ma bde ba la bde bar yod // g.yon

ma bde ba la bde bar yod // ma dgu [read: mgu] ba la dgu [read: mgu] bar yod // ma ’tshangs ba la ’tshangs bar yod //. 77 Note that, coincident with the final day of Lhasöshe rites, the Gila clans of Thempang perform their own completely separate ceremony for their main communal deity Ama Jomo at Lobdeshot, on the western edge of the old village. This rite has no connection to, and is not to be confused with, Bapu Lhasöshe. 78 For ’gro ba’i ’gro rabs on the title page (Thempang 1: 2b, l. 1-2) read bro pa’i bro rabs since bro and bro pa are the forms used in the main text, and in the title wording of the parallel version Sangti 1. 79 It was reported that Atajipa members at least privately offered a small tshogs consisting of beer to the deities during the festival, thus discharging their minimum ritual obligation. 80 Many communities in this area hold the view that all so-called prahme-type ritual specialist lineages in the Satang villages originated in Khoina. At Rahung, I found the chopjido priests carry the clan name Thadung whose descent is claimed from a Khoina lineage. While all of these priests share many common features with the jiji (also zizi, khikzizi) found in the Sherdukpen area, they also exhibit traits found amongst Miji and Aka ritual specialists. 81 Related local Dirang Tsangla cognates are nyi zi for ‘wife’ and azim for both ‘mother’s younger sister’ and ‘co-wife’. In Dakpa, zhomu means both ‘younger sister’ (and ‘daughter’) but serves also as a general term for ‘woman’. 82 Lhau 2: 25b. 83 However, on the second day of the festival the Sharchokpa zi candidate did temporarily appear and joined the other two zi girls in going house to house to collect fermented corn mash from all the Bapu tsheshomba households as a donation to support the zi apa lha brang. Her father had forced her to join in this part of the ceremony; if she had not done so at this token level at very least, it was feared that something negative would have befallen her in the future as a result of complete non-participation. 84 Other cognates of shom/shomba are found in Tibetan Plateau languages, such as CT gzhong pa for ‘wooden basin/trough/tub’ and Brokpaké zhong for ‘basket’; cf. the CT verb shong ‘to hold’, ‘to be able to contain’, ‘to fit into’. 85 This term, for which the local spelling in Tibetan was written for me, presents an interesting problem of interpretation. The standard Ganden Phodrang term is khral rkang that relates to the unit of land (rkang) in terms of which taxes were calculated. The spelling khral khang could mean ‘tax house[hold]’, but can also literally mean ‘tax bone’, describing the tsheshomba itself as a corporate social unit from which taxes were due. I have been unable to confirm this until now. 86 In a tsheshomba lineage with shui status, the in-marrying makpa husband automatically becomes the senior male and thus assumes all social, economic and certain ritual obligations of his wife’s household. However, he does not gain equality in terms of land rights. While he has access to most categories of land (mangsa ‘communal land’, kresa ‘taxable land’, and gongsa ‘individually owned land’), he cannot make any claims upon the inviolable tshansa or specific ‘clan land’ of his wife’s tshan. Thus, shui also signals this somewhat ambivalent position. This practice is not limited to Dirang, and occurs north of the Ze La pass among Dakpa speakers.

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Notes to pages 446–457

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Cf. also Dakpa ma shui for such a household. In East Bodish languages, the term appears to have a double meaning in this context; cf. Kurtöp shui referring to properties or wealth that are inherited, as does Tibetan shul. 88 The communal Gila clan festival is usually staged once every six years following a Bapu Lhasöshe, and commences on the eighteenth day of the second lunar month. The main object of worship is the regional female territorial deity Ama Jomo whose cult has become domesticated by Buddhist lamas at many sites; see ch. 3 on this deity. 89 Examples of written Dakpa usage are found for centrally important ritual terms, common vocabulary items and grammatical constructions: the main ransom animal involved is a mithun bull termed manbu or man following Dakpa/Dzala rather than Dirang Tshangla mencha; Dakpa yul and Dzala yul-mo meaning ‘village’ or ‘community’ occur instead of Dirang Tshangla dung; the title of the major female deity is ai or ayi meaning ‘grandmother’ in Dakpa, whereas the same term in Dirang Tshangla would be abi; the key descent group term tshe zhong ba (pronounced ‘tsheshomba’), literally ‘the life basket’, is from zhong ba, a unique Dakpa and Dzala term for ‘basket’ with no cognates in Tshangla (zhong is also used by some Brokpaké speakers); the Dakpa and Dzala ergative maker ’i is often used instead of the standard Tibetan ergative particles (kyis, gis, gyis, -s); the Dakpa interrogative lo is used in the post-position in conjunction with the Tibetan interrogative ci; the Dzala and Dakpa imperative markers –ri and -ti occur as verbal suffixes in appeals to the deities, and so on. I also recorded Dakpa influence in oral and written ritual texts used for Srid-pa’i lha festivals in Yewang near Dirang, and in the upper Sangti valley, while Dakpa is also the language of ritual songs sung during the Khiksaba festival of the Sherdukpen community at Rupa, as well as strongly influencing ritual terminology; cf. Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 101 n. 10 where their “Brahmi” refers to Dakpa. 90 The variant in Sangti 1: 31a, l. 8 reads: de nas lha’i bu rnams lha khyim du zhug la // khar sgo phyi nas kha nang du lte na ’di skad do // A ha’i A ha’i //. 91 Only a single line of these verses survives on the damaged end folios of Thempang 1, yet the full text is preserved in Sangti 1: 34b, 2-35a, 5. 92 The colloquial word lhabum is derived from CT lha’i bum pa, but in the ritual text itself the actual stone shrine located at the Lhasöshe ground is termed lha mkhar ‘lha stronghold’. 93 At the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, I was shown a small cave-like cavity in the contour of the hill next to and north of the lhabum (see fig. 18), which is the site for brewing and storing all the yu (liquor) to be offered to the lha. The male tsangmi are the brewers of this ritual yu, a role contrasting with the exclusive female work of domestic brewing in the home. Informants cite ritual purity as the reason for this exceptional male role. The taste of the resulting ritual yu is seen as a kind of prognostic: if it is a little sour this is taken as a bad sign, but if mild in flavour this is viewed as positive. 94 Also srog mda’. In a ‘bon’-identified marriage rite, these arrows are assigned specifically to the groom as his life symbol; see Karmay 1975: 211. 95 Tashi Choden 2004: 6. 96 Karmay 1998: 340 and the references therein, Namkhai Norbu 1995: ch. 6, Snellgrove 1967: 76-87.

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Simoons and Simoons 1968. For example, in the northernmost Subansiri River valley dialects of ‘Tagin’ Tani known to me, the word for mithun is sebeh where se- is the classificatory prefix common to all names for larger and medium-sized wild animals (sereh ‘wild pig’, setum ‘bear’, sebi ‘langur monkey’, sebin ‘takin’, etc.). In local dialects of some East Bodish languages, the classificatory suffix -ti (mostly written di or ’di in local manuscripts) signifies larger wild animal species, thus speakers of Dzala and Kurtöp around the Khoma Chu-Kuri Chu confluence use mandi/manti to refer to male mithun, while its hybrid male offspring from mating with domestic female oxen (ba) are termed badi/bati. 99 Lha chen ’o de gung rgyal zhu ba yin no // ’bul ba zhabs rtan bzhes ro byon le // shar gyi ba man gdon dkar ’bul ba bzhes ro byon le //); excerpt of the Lha zhu rabs chant recorded from bon po Kunley (65 years) of Trisa, on 10 March 2012. 100 See Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 214-221, 258 pl. 25b. The other significant reference here is to the white-horned divine ox (lhe glang ru kar/lha glang ru dkar) bestowed upon gNya’-khri bTsan-po before his descent from the sky world by his father, and which defends the Phywa king against attack by the srin of Kong-po; Mkhas pa lde’u: 232, 234, 236. 101 See the G.yag rabs in Ura: 45b, 2-47a. 102 Of the compensation and ransom (stong dang glud) items in a rabs from a dGa’-thang manuscript translated by Karmay 2009: 73, 82, the decorations of one of the four actual ransom animals, the female yak (offered together with a monkey, sheep and bird), are turned into a multitude of mdzo and horses around it. The sNang-gshen theg pa section in the Gzi brjid specifically recommends making ransom effigies of all types of “beings that go upright, athwart and bowed down, those that fly in the sky and creep in the earth, and those that wander through space”; Snellgrove 1967: 86-87, cf. Namkhai Norbu 1995: 77. 103 The facsimile of Thempang 1: 3a-13a is in appendix I. Some alternative readings were available in parallel sections of the Sangti 1 manuscript. My proposed emendations are all annotated directly in the translation. I ignore most minor spelling variations where the original meaning will be obvious to anyone literate in Tibetan. Section headings in [] are mine and inserted for ease of following the narrative. For any unknown proper names, I consulted my informant Gungtung Ao whose responses are marked GA in the notes. 104 On the phrasing lha su’i sar, see n. 20 of ch. 3. 105 This sub-heading is derived from the closing line of the section in Thempang 1: 4a, 1, dang po snga lugs de ltar yin //, cf. n. 108 below on snga < snga ba. 106 For bkos I read [b]skos, and for bko lugs below I read bskos lugs. The verb bskos in such cosmogonies implies the intentional agency of Phywa beings; see Mkhas pa lde’u: 227, Lde’u jo sras: 100, while Stein 2010: 148 noted of the Phywa, “They are the ones who assign to each thing and each being its place in the world (bskos) [...] Rather than creators, these are directors, world developers.” 107 An additional marginal line occurring below the last line of main text here (Thempang 1: 3a, 6) is of unclear meaning and purpose, and is ignored here since it is neither chanted during Lhasöshe rites, nor found in the parallel section of Sangti 1.

Notes to pages 457–461

108 I read snga here as the rare verb snga ba (sngas), ‘to be the first, to come first’; Jäschke 1881: 135 snga ba 3. 109 For dgung ni kha’i rug tsam gcig chags /, cf. rug pa in BGT: 2709 phyir bkram pa rnams tshur sdud pa. In Dakpa and Dzala influenced texts, for the same motif we read: / yu ra tes na ne / gnam kha’i ru tsam cig ye le le neg se ba /. 110 Mur rdo; while mur means extremity (as in ‘edge’ here?), Jäschke 1881: 416 has “gills of fish”, so a ‘flake’ fits better in this context. 111 In other sources, the Ar-mo rDo-leb is a legendary flat rock up in the heaven of the Thirty-three gods; cf. the entry A mo nig in BGT: 3124 “A crow (?) dice stone or phul stone; the name of a square, black stone. A great many of which come from lHo-brag and, in oral tradition, they are said to be stones of the lha of the Divine Abode of the ThirtyThree” (rdo sho pho rog gam / phul rdo ste rdo nag gru bzhi zhig gi ming / mang che ba lho brag nas thon zhing / kha rgyun du lha’i gnas sum cu rtsa gsum gyi lha’i rdo yin par bshad /), noting also meanings for rdo sho on p. 1446; cf. Chos-grags: 965 also Ar mo nig. See Snellgrove 1967: 312 for Ar-mo’i rdo explained as a name for part of a ritual model (cosmogram?) in a g.Yung-drung Bon rite to worship the dbal mo deities. See also Das 1902: 1348, whose entry Ar mo li ga directs one to Ar mo li ga’i rdo leb in the rGyal rabs gsal ba’i me long. 112 For bshed read bshad, and for shed read shad in the following line. 113 For skyeb sa read skyed sa. 114 The combination here and below of lha dBang-po brGya-byin, klu dGa’-bo ’Jog-po, and btsan sKyid-bu Lung-btsan (or sometimes Yu-dmar sKya-bdun) occurs as symbolic reference to the sa gsum cosmos in a whole range of older ‘bon’-identified texts going back to the Gzer myig; for which see Francke 1949-1950: 171/180, for the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 9 (=21a), and for an apparently thirteenth century text for calling phywa and g.yang see Bellezza 2005: 460-461, 465. 115 The interpretation of zhes in mi la zhes rgyal btsan po bko / here is speculative. 116 The oral tradition of this glud narrative at Thempang states that it is a king who falls ill, engages five bon priests for a cure, and requires a ransom to recover. The written version here includes all these elements but the connection between them is obscure. 117 The expression mi lus ’doms gang gru bzhi here also occurs in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel; see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 10 (= 22a). 118 For lCong read gcong; according to informants, gcong or gcong nad is pulmonary tuberculosis, or phthisis; see also Jäschke 1881: 145. 119 For nad skam read nad rkyen. 120 These four bon of the cardinal directions are a local version of the bon bzhi scheme, whose iconography is detailed in various Srid-pa’i lha cult rabs; see appendix E. 121 Zhi ba is probably to be read shi ba, as commonly used in other texts on healing rites and funerals. It implies somebody mortally ill here. 122 This form of the name is one of multiple written variants apparently based upon gShen-rab Mi-bo found throughout Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts. For example, the Sangti 1 manuscript parallel to Thempang 1 has the form gShed-rab Mi-bon; cf. also the form gShenrab bon in the Sri gsas bung ba stag chung bzhugs manuscript; Karmay and Nagano 2002: 185 (=f. 1b), 188 (=f. 6b). 123 For rnyes so I read mnyes so, cf. mnyeso two lines down.

124 For yar I read mar. 125 For skyi gu I read skyid bu. 126 For dgugs I read bkug. 127 Unidentified. GA reports this as the local name for a large river flowing east out of the Mon-yul Corridor, meaning the Digien/ Diggin or Bichom River of the maps (see map U502 NG 46-2). The orthography rGya-ri suggests Tshangla ri ‘river’ and CT rgya ‘large, extensive’ or perhaps for rgya gar ‘India’. 128 ’Bi shum sha wa refers to a legendary hunter (sha pa) appearing as a character in a variety of different narratives from the central Mon-yul Corridor. The name is likely related to Bichom or Bishum village area in the north-west of present-day Singchung Circle along the Bichom River valley inhabited by Bugun. A small settlement named Bishum is located in the upper Sangti valley and inhabited by a few families who may be of Bugun origin since they report their clan name as Marpiu, while the same clan name reported as Marfew is an established Bugun clan identity concentrated in Wanghoo and Singchung villages; see Pandey 1996: 5-13. The present Bishum residents claim to be the original inhabitants of the valley prior to migration and settlement by other groups, yet there is no evidence for this. They intermarry with residents of nearby Phudung, and the two communities celebrate a Lhasöshe festival together (see ch. 13). Tshangla speakers of the upper Sangti Chu valley call Bishum residents Mundapa and etymologise that name as ‘ones of the forested valley bottom’ (Dirang Tshangla mun ‘forest’; da cf. CT mda’ ‘valley bottom’; pa nominaliser). The place name Bhi-shum/Bi-bum occurs in eighteenth century Rgyal rigs redactions that include the sDe-rang supplement, but without any indications of where the location was or who populated the site; Rgyal rigs 2: 112, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 53a, l. 6, 53b, l. 1, Rgyal rigs 3: 56-57. 129 For cang read lcang or lcang lo, ‘to braid’. The rje [read: rjes] ma’i thag pa mentioned here is a very strong locally made rope, fashioned by braiding three thin strips of cane together. Such ropes are commonly used in the hill areas east and south of the research region to catch mithun grazing in the forest when they need to be moved. 130 The gzhu shing, literally ‘bow tree’, is a tall bamboo species locally harvested to make bows for hunting (GA). 131 For rdzag read gshags. 132 For tag read btags, ‘to fasten’. Throughout the eastern Himalayas, such cane ropes are normally fastened around the base of a mithun’s horns at the level of the skull, as accurately depicted in the illustration of Phu La-chong and his mithun mount on page 2a of the manuscript (see pl. 142). This is often done after the animal has been given salt or bamboo leaves to pacify it. 133 A hybrid Tibetan-Dakpa idiomatic expression meaning ‘to sell/ trade/barter’ is used here and throughout: lag tu ’gong cig rgyab, literally ‘to fix a price in the hand’, cf. gong brgyab pa, ‘to fix a price’ in Jäschke 1881: 72. 134 Lag ’phrul is obscure, but an interlinear note here indicates ’phrul = ’phrug, ‘units/categories’. 135 Lit. ‘Went from the hands of the Bishum hunter, obtained by [another] human division’ (’bi shum shwa ba’i lag nas song mi rus thob). 136 Referring to a non-Buddhist population living east of the Mon-yul Corridor, with the form highly likely derived from gidi used by

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Notes to pages 461–462

some Sartang communities as a variation of Tshangla gidu which has the same meaning as Tibetan klo pa. GA considers the dGurdi mentioned here to be a group of Bangni in neighbouring East Kameng. 137 Another so-called gidu group east of the Monpa (GA), but highly likely referring to the Lamai (i.e.,“Miji”) settlement of Biruja which the Thempangpa and Rahungpa had good knowledge of in the premodern period; see Ali 1946: 2, 3, 11, 14, 18, 19. 138 Thong-zhing refers to the Thongji/Thongchi clan, of the patrician Thong division of clans (also including Thongduk, Thongo and others) among the Kho-Bwa speaking Sherdukpen population of the area traditionally called Thongthui (or Tukpen by the Dirang villages, now known by its Assamese name of Rupa); see Mills 1948: 2-3. 139 bZang-pa most likely refers to the Sinsanji clan of Thongthui who belong to the subordinate Chao division among the Kho-Bwa speaking Sherdukpen population. The Sinsanji have a specific service obligation to the patrician Thongji/Thongchi clan (see note above); see Mills 1948: 2-3. 140 For ru rang read ra hung. This refers to Rahung village and its satellite settlements on the northern side of the Bomdi La Pass, being one of the four Kho-Bwa speaking (and most recently self-identified ‘Sartang’) communities south of Thempang. Some Rahungpa clans have a specific service obligation to the Bapu clans of Thempang, hence the Rahungpa delivering the mithun to them in the narrative. 141 A Thempangpa name for Khoina, whose residents they call Khamsonga, one of the four Kho-Bwa speaking Sartang communities south of Thempang. 142 Often written But in the literature (see also But-pa and But Mon-pa for its inhabitants), the main village sits on a ridge east of Thempang and is the easternmost of the four Kho-Bwa speaking Sartang communities. It has been renamed Jirigaon by Indian administrators because the local name sounds like ‘boot’, the Hindi word for ‘ghost’ or ‘bad spirit’, and thus thought to be inauspicious. 143 Khuitam is one of the four Kho-Bwa speaking Sartang communities south of Thempang. 144 Si-mi-mkhar is an ancient local name for Thempang (GA). It is perhaps related to the Srin-mi kingdom mentioned in the Rgyal rigs (48b); Aris 1986: 68-69, 84 n. 123. It is considered one of three mkhar communities based upon the strongholds (mkhar) of older local rulers in the southern Mon-yul Corridor area, including the Me-long-mkhar at Dom-kho, the ruins of which are still identifiable today, and the Lo-mer-mkhar of the lTug-span at Rupa (GA). On the claimed location of this latter site at the place of Sri Kamcha in Rupa, see Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 32-33, 39. 145 Zhu ba, literally ‘requester’, is a local equivalent of CT sbyin bdag. 146 For ’Bro pa read bro pa. 147 For mrngas nas klong ngo zer // ri bo gtsang nas tho ngo, I read mnal nas long ngo zer // ri bo gtsang nas mthong ngo zer. 148 For steng dshed na read steng shed na, literally “above”, but north is intended as in the standard Tibetan formulation when locations are spatially indexed to Bodhgaya. The Bodhgaya referenced here is the ‘rediscovered’ site at Hajo on the north bank of the Brahmaputra

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river opposite Gauhati, commonly visited by premodern pilgrims from Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor; see Huber 2008: ch. 3. 149 This is a local interpretation of ’dul ma, but cf. CT usages of dul ma meaning na chung ma’i ming gzhan applied to young animals, including bovines; BGT: 420, 1267, 2340. 150 Meaning a person from Gauhati near Hajo; see n. 148 above. 151 Originally sde tha hur. The parallel text Sangti 1 reads sdes kyi tha khur, which means ‘Thakur of the [Indian] plains’. As an Indian place name in Tibetan texts, sdes here signifies mā-sdes (madesh, ‘lowlands’) referring to the plains of India south of the Himalayan foothills in traditional accounts; see Huber 2008: 188. The Tha-khur here probably refers to inhabitants of Thakurpara village (see map U502 NG 46-6) north of Mazbat in the Char duar region of Darrang, from where the Thempangpa and others descended from a branch of the Wang-ma clan complex historically obtained tribute; Rgyal rigs: 52b-53a, cf. Aris 1986: 85 n. 143. 152 La-mo Ko-le is a name for the first hills one must ascend travelling northwards on the old trade route from Char duar via the Piri La pass to Rupa (GA), also cf. Kho-kho-ra-dob-li as one of the boundary points for the gYo-dung Wang-ma clan’s duar claim; Rgyal rigs: 52b. 153 La-mo Ri-gtsong is the Riso La or Richo pass of 3966 metres, due west of Phudung village at the frontier between India and Bhutan; map 83 A/4. 154 This is the village of Chingi in the Kalaktang area; see Ali 1946: 5. 155 This is the Piri La pass (see map U502 NG 46-2), on the old trade route up from Char duar entering Rupa area from the south (GA); see Governor’s Secretariat 1940: 9, Ali 1946: 1, 13. 156 lTug-span is the traditional name for the territory of the Sherdukpen Thong ranked clans around present-day Rupa. The “Dukpen” component of the modern “tribal” identity construct Sherdukpen is based upon lTug-span and its variations; see Blo-bzang Thabsmkhas ca. 1826: 11b, 12b, 29a, 30b for the earliest records of the name, cf. also ch. 16 n. 153. 157 The name appears out of sequence. Cf. gDung-mtsho sKar-mathang cited in the Rgyal rigs: 36a, cf. Aris 1986: 82 n. 95, the identity of which is the subject of many local claims throughout the region. Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 151b, 2 passed the gDung-mtsho sKarma-thang two days travel from Shar Dong-kha (i.e., Dom-kha) in 1507, which suggests the highland plateau west of the Tako Lamo pass in the headwaters of the southern tributaries of the Gam-ri Chu where many alpine lakes are located. 158 GA identifies La-mo Reg-la as a pass crossing the range north of Rupa. It is west of Bomdila and east of the Manjang Mani peaks (see ‘Manzong’ on map U502 NG 46-2), and today a telecommunications tower is built at the site. It was mentioned by Bailey and Morshead 1914: 76, “From Rahung a road leads viâ the Rib La one day to Dukpen or (Rupa) in the Putang valley.” 159 This is the Bomdi La pass (map U502 NG 46-2), above modern Bomdila township, traversed today by the main Assam-Tawang highway. 160 Nang shes na, and elsewhere ’og shes na, could be nang gses ‘part’, ‘category’, ‘subdivision’, ‘within’; cf. nang gses in BGT: 1511 nang tshan nam nang gi bye brag, Goldstein 2001: 608 ‘an internal/local section or unit’.

Notes to pages 462–471

161

A series of ‘sixteen (bcu drug) seasonal huts (tshe drangs)’, and/or the groups dwelling in them, for summer occupation by pastoralists and for travellers on high routes used along the Bhutan-Mon-yul Corridor border area. Travelling along these routes in 1912, Bailey 1915: 75 noted “The Mönbas build huts on all the uninhabited roads which they use, and which are locally called ‘Drang’”. 162 Literally ‘elder brother’ in Brokpaké, also used as respectful address to elder males, and sometimes borrowed into Dirang Tshangla to replace ata. Here I let it stand as a title. 163 This is the high mountain pass in the headwaters of the Phobrang Chu, connecting the Dirang region with the Merak-Sakteng region inhabited by the Brokpa. See “Punsum La” on map U502 NG 46-2. 164 Here lha generically refers only to local deities in the proximate sa gsum cosmos. 165 Thempang 1: 13a, 4-5: da rgya lu’i nad rgya rdzangs sar yod // rgya mo’i nad rgya rdzang [read: rdzangs] sar yod // steng lha yi phyogs na rdzangs sar yod // rmi lam ma ngan pa mthong ba dang // mtshan ma ngan pa mthong ba gnyis //. 166 Traders from Dirang area villages, such as Thempang, acted as middlemen between their Bangni, Miji, Bugun and Sherdukpen neighbours to the east and south and their Tshangla and Dakpa speaking customers in eastern Bhutan, who were eager to receive mithun for cross-breeding with oxen to produce the superior jatsa hybrid cattle; see Mills 1946: 10-11, Sharma 1961: 9-10, and Simoons and Simoons 1968: 45-46. See also Ali 1946: 14-15 on direct trade in mithun between Miji and Bhutanese. 167 See nn. 15-16 above, and especially MacKenzie 1884: 19. 168 See n. 15 above, and Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 156 on pasture fees paid by Brokpa to Lishpa. 169 Summarised from Stein 1971: 516-519 with reference to PT 1289. 170 See also PT 1042, l. 107-109 where the description of the skyibs lug sheep used in funeral rites has reference to gold, silver, turquoise, and apparently also iron; cf. Lalou 1953, Stein 1972: 238. On the equation of real body parts with their equivalent ritual substitutes used in an effigy is a widespread theme in glud more generally, see Karmay 1998: 347-348. 171 Allen 1997. 172 Literally the ‘turquoise manservant’. This may refer to turquoise as the secure seat of the bla or ‘mobile vitality principle’. 173 Thempang 1: 17a, 4-17b, 4: nga yi bya ru g.yas pa la // pho lha dgra lha chags sa yod // mgon skyabs byed pa A cang chen // dkar po dung gis [read: gi] shu gu yod // rin chen gser gyi kha yig bris // dam pa chos kyi [17b] bzhugs sa yin // nga yi bya ru g.yon pa la // sngon mo g.yu yi shu gu yod // nag po rnag tsha’i yig ge bris // g.yu grogs pho yi rgyug sa yin // nga yi spyi bo’i gtsug shed na // nor gyi kha [read: ka] ba bzang bzang po bzhugs // mga’ thang che ba A cang shes //. Note shu gu represents spoken Dirang Tshangla shugu, ‘paper’, rather than a regular Tibetan spelling here (shog gu, shog bu). 174 In order to capture the ontology implicit in the rites here, I translate ‘deity’ for sku rten rather than the usual and static ‘image’ or ‘representation’, because the five-fold deities are believed to have ‘arisen’ (bzhengs) and be present at the five upright devices on the hat of the lha’i bu or bro pa; in parallel chants, the verb bzhengs is mostly marked by an imperative suffix.

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Thempang 1: 18b, 2-20a, 5: O ha’i dus di [read: de] ring gi nyi ma la // gnam la blta bzhin skar ma bzangs // sa la blta bzhin bye ma bzangs // bar la blta bzhin tshes grangs bzangs // nyi bzangs skar bzangs gsum ka bzangs // gsum ka ba’i nyin mo ru // lha ’o de gung rgyal nyan mdzod lo // phu bzangs la chong drag po nyan mdzod lo // nga ni lha yi bka’ chad man // nga ni klu yi chom [read: cho] ’phrul man // [19a] nga ni btsan gyi ’ jag pa man // nga ni bdud kyi rkun man // nga ni sangs rgyas ’ jal ba’i lha’i bu yin // lha la phyag rgya ’phul ba’i mi // lha la bltas [read: ltad] mo bton pa’i mi // lha’i bu’i mgo la ci gon lo // lha’i bu’i mgo la rigs lnga gyon // ci dang ci yi sku rten bzhengs // shar rdo rje sems dpa’i sku rten bzhengs // glang chen khri yi steng du bzhugs // lha’i bu’i mgo la ci gon lo // [19b] lha’i bu’i mgo la rigs lnga gyon // ci dang ci yi sku rten bzhengs // lho rin chen ’byung ldan sku rten bzhengs // rta mchog khri yi steng du bzhugs // lha’i bu’i mgo la ci gon lo // lha’i bu’i mgo la rigs lnga gyon // ci dang ci yi sku rten bzhengs // nub snang ba mtha’ yas sku rten bzhengs // sma [read: rma] bya khri yi steng du bzhugs // lha’i bu’i mgo la ci gon lo // lha’i bu’i mgo la rigs lnga gon // ci dang ci yi sku rten bzhengs // byang don yod grub pa’i sku rten bzhengs // shang shang khri yi steng du bzhugs // [20a] lha’i bu’i mgo la ci gon lo // lha’i bu’i mgo la rigs lnga gon // ci dang ci yi sku rten bzhengs // dbus rnam par snang mdzad sku rten bzhengs // seng chen khri yi steng du bzhugs // lha yi bka’ chad chod sar yod // klu yi cho ’phrul chod sar yod // gtsan [read: btsan] gyi ’ jag pa chod sar yod // bdud kyi rkun ma non sar yod //. 176 See Dorji Penjore 2009: 53 n. 99, also Ugyen Pelgen 2000 and Karma Galay 2004 on east Bhutanese ideas and rites related to karam. 177 Note the woman walking alone behind the procession at top left of pl. 150. She is the wife of the lama who served as the master of ceremonies during 2011, and thus from a non-Bapu lineage without a tsheshomba in the procession. 178 For phar ’dzol lo I understand the verb to mean ‘khrul ba here following the entry for ’dzol in BGT: 2349. 179 The chant is highly formulaic, with only measurement units (’dom, mda’, khru, mtho), colours (nag po, sngon po, dmar po, dkar po) and proper names varying in the same positions each time, and for the sake of economy here I only transcribe the initial instance of repeating sections up to Thempang 1: 21a, 5; Thempang 1: 20a, 5-21b, 1: O ha’i da ni sa yi sa rabs bshad // sa yi sa rabs [20b] bshad tsa na // lha’i bu’i cham pa’i dog sa med // sa ’dom gang bskos pa’i ’og shes [read: shed] na // sa yi kha dog ji ltar yod // sa yi kha dog nag po yod // nag po thams cad bdud kyi sa // nag po bdud dang nga mi cham // nag po bdud yang phar ’dzol lo // [...21a, 5] lha yi sa la lha’i bu cham // dog sa bzang po lha’i bu thob // dog sa ma chung che bar shog // che bar bas kyang bstan [read: brtan] par shog // brtan pa bas kyang [21b] mdzas par shog /. 180 The chant is highly formulaic, with only natural phenomena (gnam, sa, brag, chu, shing, spang, me, shar, lho, nub, byang, dbus, byung ba) and proper names varying in the same positions each time, thus I only transcribe the initial instance of repeating sections up to Thempang 1: 23a, 5 for the sake of economy; Thempang 1: 21b, 1-23b, 4: de nas dog sa g.yar ba ni // // O ha’i / gnam gyi lha mo gos dkar mo // gos dkar mo la dog sa g.yar // sa yi lha mo bstan ma sti // bstan ma sti la dog sa g.yar // dog sa ma chung che bar shog // che bar bas kyang bstan par shog // brtan pa bas kyang mdzas par shog // [...23a, 5] lo yi rgyal po ’khor bcas dang // zla ba blon po ’khor bcas dang // zhag gi dmag mi ’khor bcas dang // dus tshod mtsho cha ’khor [23b] bcas dang // smin drug rgyu dkar nyer brgyad dang // nyi ma zla ba la sogs gza’ chen brgyad // spar kha brgyad dang me

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Notes to pages 471–480

ba dgu // lo bskor [read: skor] bcu gnyis sa bdag la // lha’i bu cham pa’i dog sa g.yar // dog sa ma chung che bar shog // che bar bas kyang bstan par shog // brtan pa bas kyang mdzas par shog /. 181 Cf. Hoongla 5: 18b, 4-19a, 1 for the deities gnam gyi lha mo sGosdkar-mo, sa’i lha mo bsTan-bar-mo, brag gi lha mo Zum-bzang-mo, rdo’i lha mo Phyag-legs-mo, chu’i lha mo Bab-leng-mo, shing gi lha mo Byang-legs-mo, me’i lha mo ‘Od-legs-mo, while many of the sa bdag identities are the same in the two texts. 182 Written Mos gtang, literally ‘to bestow (gtang) [something] pleasing/ wished for (mos)’, while mos also carries the sense of ‘devotion’ or ‘reverence’. Local pronunciation as muitang reflects the Tibetan o vowel shifting to u in Dirang Tshangla when words are transmitted via Dakpa (e.g., lha mo typically becomes lhamu). 183 Thempang 1: 26b, 1-3: nyi ma byang gis [read: gi] phyogs su spangs [read: spang] che zer // spangs [read: spang] che ba’i phyogs su ma yon cig // su’i sar yod do mgo [read: ’go] ba’i lha // bzhugs cig lha chen dang ma ’thud //. 184 For yas btags read yas stags; BGT: 2561 has “A portion of a ransom gtor ma given in payment to gods and demons, as explained according to the Bon tradition” (Bon lugs las bshad pa’i lha ’dre la brngan pa’i glud gtor cha zhig). Snellgrove 1967: 308 is less specific with “bön po ritual items.” Compare also yas glud ‘ransom’ in Karmay 1972: 352. 185 Uncertain: Thempang 1 reads mdo yul har kyi pho ri nya char, while Sangti 1 has do yon hab ti nya chen. I read ri in the Thempang 1 version as Dirang Tshangla for ‘river’ (cf. also gong ri). 186 Dngos grub here is understood by all informants in terms of the general concepts of ’dod dgu and yon tan, and not in terms of any technical Buddhist meaning; see n. 211 below. 187 For bsha’ rtse’i yul read gsha’ tshe’i yul, literally the ‘Land of Tin’. 188 Here sbo ga seems to refer to carry bags made of woven, patterned panels that are used at festivals to hold popped maize kernels and rice grains used for tshog. The names for such popped grains in festivals commonly contain the bo element, for instance boromboy in Tshangla at Thempang and boma in Dzala along the Khoma valley. 189 Kha zi (spoken kazi) is a piquant food mixture of finely grated and chopped ingredients. For the Thempang Lhasöshe the recipe included dried red chilli, dried fish, dried or fresh radish, and salt; for a Tawang kha zi recipe, see Tsewang Norbu 2008: 43. 190 Thempang 1: 28a, 2-29b, 6, supplemented with readings from Sangti 1, and with formulaic repetition in the text […] excised: da ni mos gtang yar phul ste // mos gtang yar phul tsa na // lha ’o de gung rgyal snyan gson cig / phu bzang la chong snyan gson cig / yas gtags [read: btags] gnam gis [read: gyi] skar ma tsam // nam mkha’ khengs pa yar phul ti // yas gtags [read: btags] sa yi bye ma tsam // sa gzhi gang ba yar phul ti // / yas gtags [read: btags] chu’i rba ga tsam // chu mo gang ba yar phul ti // yas btags shing gis lo ma tsam // [28b] shing lo gang ba yar phur [read: phul] ti // mdo yul har kyi pho ri nya char [read: chen] ’di // lha chen khyed la yar phul ti // tshe dang dngos grub mar zhu ti // rgya mo’i yul gyi dar sna ’di // lha chen khyed la yar phul ti // tshe dang dngos grub mar zhu ti // bal po yul gyi rin chen gser // [...] bshar rtse’i yul gyi gzugs brnyan dngul // [...] ’bras zan zhal dkar mchod pa ’di // [...] ’bras chang ’o ma’i brgya [read: rgya] mtsho ’di // [...] zho mar ’khrum [29a] gyi mchod pa ’di // [...] nya chung gser mig mchod pa ’di // [...] sbo ga brgyan pa’i yos sna ’di // [...] sna tshags tshangs pa’i kha zi ’di // [...] pho chas sna lnga ’dzoms pa ’di // [...] mo chas sna dgu ’dzoms pa ’di // [...] phud rnams thams cad yar bzhengs

630

lo // [...] lha’i bu gro [read: bro] ba spun bcas kyis // lag pa’i phyag brgya [read: rgya] yar phul ti // [29b] rkang pa’i zhabs gro [read: bro] yar phul ti // zhi ba yon bdag ’khor bcas la // char chu dus su ’bab par mdzod // lo phyugs rtag tu legs par mdzod // ’bras bu dus su rmin par mdzod // mi nad phyugs nad zhi bar mdzod // tshe la bar chad med par mdzod // srog la shi chad med par mdzod // nyin gsum dus na bya ra legs par mdzod // mtshan gsum nyer ra legs par mdzod // gsol lo mchod do ’go ba’i lha // rogs dang mgon skyabs gnyen po mdzod //. 191 For lus bslus read lus chas bslus; compare the usage glud chas or ‘ransom apparel’ as a Bhutanese interpretation of clothing associated with a glud; Aris 1979: 306, n. 17. While the spelling bslu[s] ba literally means ‘buy back’ or ‘cheat’, its semantics are almost the same as glud and in local documents it alternates freely with the spelling glud. 192 A premodern Tibetan monetary unit, in the form of a small coin or weight measure of certain materials; Jäschke 1881: 478, BGT: 2403. 193 For mthong rgya see Jäschke 1881: 242 mthong ga, mthongs ka ‘chest/ breast’, ‘silk ornaments’, referring to the white silk scarves worn around the neck and hanging across the chest of every bro pa and bro mo. 194 The spelling gri lam must be related to CT ’gril ‘collected, concentrated together’, and ‘made circular’, referring to the circular disc device surrounded by cowire shells and/or peacock feathers mounted atop the headgear of some bro pa at Thempang (see pls. 37, 148) and all the bro pa in the Lhau Pla festival (see pls. 160, 230). 195 Here mdongs refers to the glossy round ‘eye’ on the peacock feather. 196 For ’ jigs btags chag sha’i dung sha’i read mjing btags lcags shal dung shal; while ga sha or ga shal refers to a “garland” or “necklace” they can also be any ‘raiment’ or ‘strap’ worn over one shoulder and passing under the opposite arm. 197 Sha bkra is uncertain; perhaps another type of ga sha or ga shal (see n. 196 above). 198 For ’dzug rgyan read ’dzugs rgyan. 199 I assume the sbi long here is related to spoken along or ahlung (pronounced allen in Dakpa) which is white silk cloth used for making men’s shirts and women’s blouses, while the same word is sometimes applied to these white upper garments. 200 For long skye rag read long skye rags; pholong is the stomach in Dirang Tshangla and Tibetan long ga refers to the bowels or internal organs of the belly. 201 The precise etymology of bsur ba’i rgyab ri is unclear, but most likely it reflects CT rgyab ‘back’ or ‘clothing’/’cover’; CT ri < ris ‘design/ pattern’; CT bsur < bsu ba ‘to welcome/receive’. It refers to a type of cape of long, hanging tassels of goat hair dyed in different colours and sewn across the shoulders at the back of the bro pa’s jacket the day prior to the festival (see pl. 57). It is worn only by the bro pa, and was also worn by bro pa at the Lhau Pla during the past. 202 Since dmar ngo is a standard expression often used for negative images seen in dreams or divination, I read the otherwise unknown but apparently synonymous khrag ngo accordingly. 203 Thempang 1: 29b, 6-32a, 2 (note: the x is an original character in the text marking sentence truncations from previous lines) : O ha’i / da ni [30a] lha’i bu’i lus bslus yar phul ba ti // bslus ma yar phul tsa na // mgo la gyon pa’i rigs lnga ’di // lha chen khyed la yar phul ti // nga bro pa bro mo’i bslus ma yin // tshe dang dngos grub mar zhu ri // mgo la gyon pa’i zhwa dkar ’di // lha chen khyed x // nga bro pa bro mo’i x // tshe dang dngos x //

Notes to pages 480–493

204

205 206

207 208 209 210

211

212

phu na skyes pa’i mda’ gnyug ’di // lha chen khyed x // nga bro pa bro mo’i x // tshe dang dngos x // dar dkar lha’i yul nas nyos // dar mthong rgya [read: ga] re la zho re byas // zho re ’ jal ba’i dar dkar ’di // lha chen khyed x // nga bro pa bro mo’i x // tshe dang dngos x // dar dmar btsan gyi yul nas nyo // [30b] dar mthong brgya [read: ga] re la zho re byas // zho re ’ jal ba’i dar dkar ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa bro mo’i x // tshe dang x // dar sngon klu yi yul nas nyos // dar mthong x // zho re ’ jal ba’i dar sngon ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // dar nag bdud kyi yul nas nyos // dar mthong x // zho re ’ jal ba’i dar nag ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa bro x // tshe dang x // dar khra mi yi yul nas nyos // dar mthong x // zho re ’ jal ba’i dar khra ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa bro x // tshe dang x // mdzes pa’i rma bya’i mdong cung [read: mdongs chung] ’di // lha chen khyed x // [31a] nga bro pa bro x // tshe dang x // bya pho dkar po’i spu thog ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa bro x // tshe dang x // snyan brgyan byi ru’i g.yu brtsegs ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa bro x // tshe dang x // ’ jigs [read: mjing] btags chag sha’i [read: lcags shal] dung sha’i [read: shal] ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang dngos x // g.yas la gyon pa’i sha bkra ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // g.yon la gyon pa’i dung ’phreng ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // ’dzug brgyan [read: ’dzugs rgyan] lcags dril zangs dril ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // lus la gyon pa’i sbi long ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // mdzes pa’i long skye rag [read: rags] ’di // [31b] lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x //rgyab la bsur [read: bsu] ba’i rgyab ri [read: ris] ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // logs la btags pa’i ga’u ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // rkang la bcings pa’i lham sgrog ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // gsung stan [read: brtan] dril bu’i gsung skad ’di // lha chen x // nga bro pa x // tshe dang x // lha’i bu bro pa ’khor bcas la // sems la sdug bsngal ma btang gcig [read: cig] // tshe la bar chad ma btang cig // srog la shi chad ma gtang cig // dmar ngo khrag ngo ma gtang cig // [32a] kha smas [read: smras] gleng gzhi ma gtang cig // gsol lo mchod do ’go ba’i lha // rogs dang mgon skyabs gnyon po mdzod // Thempang 1: 32a, 3-7: shaa ha’i shaa ha’i / dus ding [read: de] ring kyi nyi ma la // yid ’ongs mdzes pa’i man bu ’di // zhi ba sku yi sku rim la // man bu legs pa yar phul ti // g.yas ma bde ni bde bar yod // g.yon ma bde ni bde bar yod // ma ’tshangs ba ni tshang [read: ’tshangs] bar yod // ma ’gu [read: mgu] ba la ’gu [read: mgu] bar yod / man bu legs po lha le phul //. Cf. the photograph in Jagar Dorji 2015: 192, probably from eastern Bhutan. For Bugun see Pandey 1996: 42, 44, pls. between 54-55; and for Aka see Sinha 1962: 28, pl. opp. 1, and pls. between 32-33, 80-81, 112-113; Simon 1993: 29 also transcribes lenchhi with lienchi and lyenchi. Karmay 1998: 318-320. Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002: 7; Clarke 2004: 104, fig. 101. After Sarkar 1980: pl. 23.II; see also Aris 1988: pl. 5. Thempang 1: 33a, 4-6: gser sgo de ni dngul gyis bsdams // dngul sgo de ni zangs gyis bsdams // zangs sgo de ni lcags kyis bsdams // lcags sgo de ni shing gyis bsdams // da ni lo skor bcu gnyis gdan mi mjal /. Local understandings of dngos grub are non-religious and generally imply excellence in ‘worldly benefits’, i.e., both wealth and ability; cf. Jäschke 1881: 131 dngos po sgrub pa ‘to bring a thing about’. Thempang 1: 34a, 1-34b, 3: Aa haa’i Aa haa’i / da ni lha yi lha mkhar thog dgu ma // dgung sngon dbyings su snyag pa ’dra // rtse mo dar bcog spu ru ru // logs bzhi me long to la la // zur bzhi dril bu si li li // nang du tshe

g.yang me re re // tshe zan dkar mo zhu ru ru // tshe chang bdud tsi khyil li li // lha’i bu spun yang tshe cig zhu // lha’i bu spun yang g.yang cig zhu // lha’i bu spun yang nor cig zhu // lha’i bu spun yang zas cig zhu // lha’i bu spun yang bu cig zhu // zhi ba tshe yi dngos grub zhu // sgyu ma nor gyi dngos grub zhu // zhim mngar zas kyi dngos grub zhu // che ba ’bangs kyi dngos grub zhu // drag po rtsal gyi dngos grub zhu // mi nor zas gsum dngos grub zhu // dngos grub thams cad mar shog cig //. 213 The written rod verb is common in Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts from Dakpa and Dzala speaking communities, but can have different meanings. Here it is clearly derived from, and has the same semantic range as, the CT verb sprod ‘supply, to bring together, to put together, to make to meet, give, to pass on, to hand over, to deliver’, and so forth. 214 In the present context, I read zhi ba here as zhu ba. I rendered zhi ba as ‘the dying person’ in the glud origin rabs, and elsewhere as the ‘patient’, but one also finds zhi ba yon bdag to refer to the ritual sponsors, and zhu ba or ‘the requester’ which is a local expression for CT sbyin bdag. 215 For sha rtsi read gsha’ tshe; cf. the more common gsha’ dkar. 216 Text here from Thempang 1: 37b, 2-38a, 5: Aa haa’i Aa haa’i / da sang ’gro ba’i dus mgron bu’i sgo // da yong ba’i dus su dung gi sgo // dung sgo phye bzhin tshe rod pa // zhi ba tshe med pa la tshe rod pa // zhi mo tshe med pa la tshe rod pa // Aa haa’i Aa haa’i / da sang ’gro ba’i dus ra gin sgo // da yong ba’i dus su gser gyis [read: gyi] sgo // gser sgo phye bzhin g.yang rod pa // zhi ba g.yang med pa la g.yang rod pa // zhi mo g.yang med pa la g.yang rod pa // [38a] Aa haa’i da sang ’gro ba’i dus sha rtsi’i sgo // da yong ba’i dus su dngul gyi sgo // dngul sgo phye bzhin nor rod pa // zhi ba nor med pa la g.yang rod pa // zhi mo nor med pa la nor rod pa // Aa haa’i da sang ’gro ba’i dus rdo lo’i sgo // da yong ba’i dus su g.yu yi sgo // g.yu sgo phye bzhin zas rod pa // zhi ba zas med pa la zas rod pa // zhi mo zas med pa la zas rod pa //. 217 This meat and its ritual use has all the character of the rite for hunting success (often termed nawan in Bhutan), which we find in many other Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals, including those in neighbouring Dirang communities, who use the same general ritual scheme and rabs narratives as Thempang. At those other sites, the sheep is the required domestic substitute for a wild game animal when the latter is not readily available. This rite during Lhasöshe has probably become historically modified due to Buddhist criticism, given the number of lamas we know of with Thempang Bapu ancestry; see ch. 13 and ch. 17.5. 218 Various Dirang Tshangla folk etymologies exist for norsha. Some say it refers to ‘animals’ (nor) and their ‘meat’ (sha) constituting the customary gift. Others say it refers to one bovine animal (nor) plus one leg of an animal – often a sheep, the meat of which is called shisha – being the customary minimum in tradition-minded families. 219 For example, compare the palo chant in Lawa 1, text 3: 6b, 2-3: mdangs sum nyel ba’i snyis lam ’a // mthong bu thong bco brgyad mthong // khri gdungs sprin gis skabs pa mthong //, with the bya ru chant in Thempang 1: 39a: thum thum nyal ba’i rmi lam la // gung ma sprin gyi sgrib pa mthong // khri gdungs rung rung ngu ba mthong //. 220 Thempang 1: 39a, 4-39b, 5: Aa haa’i / bya ru gung ma’i dkyil du phyin rtsa na // gung ma’i dkyil du thum gcig nyal // thum thum nyal ba’i rmi lam la // gung ma sprin gyi sgrib pa mthong // khri gdungs rung rung ngu ba

631

Notes to pages 493–498

mthong // rmi lam bzangs ba ma yin ngan pa yin // rmi lam rang la yid ma che // bya ru gang ma’i stod du phyin rtsa na // gang ma’i stod du thum cig nyal // thum thum nyal ba’i rmi lam la // gang mo kha ba chod pa thong // sengge rung rung ngu ba thong // rmi lam bzangs ba ma yin ngan pa yin // rmi lam rang la yid ma che // bya ru spang ma’i stod du phyin rtsa na // spang ma’i stod du thum cig nyal // thum thum nyal ba’i rmi lam la // spang po me yi tshig pa thong // shwa wa rung rung ngu ba mthong // rmi lam bzang ba ma yin ngan pa yin // rmi lam rang la yid ma che //. 221 Uncertain; rgya mo’i yul appears to fit the pattern in which the place of each costume component is identified directly with the object itself. Rgya mo means ‘net’, apparently referring to the sometimes interwoven arrangements of five colours of silk scarves in the costume. rGya mo’i yul or ‘land of the rGya-mo’ could conceivably refer to a place where silk originates. The rGya are a semi-mythical ethnic group and ancestral people often cited in old myths related to the Srid-pa’i lha cult; see n. 119 of ch. 15. The –mo nominal suffix is typical of how clan identities are marked in indigenous literature from the region, the Rgyal rigs providing typical examples; see appendix G. 222 Thempang 1: 41b, 1-5: Aa haa’i / phu nas bcad pa’i mda’ gnyug ’di // phu yi mda’ gnyug sa ru song // mdzes rma bya’i mdongs cu ’di // mdzes ma rna bya’i sa ru song // rgya mo’i yul gyi dar sna ’di // rgya mo’i yul gyi sa ru song // bya pho dkar po’i spu thog ’di // bya pho dkar po’i yul du song // dri lam mdzes pa’i spu thog ’di // dri lam mdzes pa’i sa ru song // . 223 Similar tug-of-war contests between the sexes occur at Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals in the Kheng region of Bhutan; Lham Dorji 2004: 39.

4

5

6

12. Th e Pl a Fe st i va l of Lh au 1

2

3

632

When informants called an event ‘Pla’, it could not always be taken at face value as applying only to Srid-pa’i lha worship, since various types of non-Buddhist rites have become labelled Pla. See also Nanda 1982: 113 who confusingly used the name plah to describe the kengpa performer, a completely different rite; see Huber 2015b. In his capacity as Assistant Director of Research (Archaeology), State Government of Arunachal Pradesh, R.K. Billorey observed two days of Pla (his Phlha) at Lhau on 13-14 April 1976, and his records show he was a keen observer who also questioned local informants in detail; Billorey 1976 and Billorey 1978. The Londonbased Austrian anthropologist Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf observed Pla (his Phla) during part of one day in April 1980, while on a very brief research tour of the region; von Fürer-Haimendorf 1980 and von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 170-172. Nehru Nanda observed Pla (her plah) at Lhau during the late 1970s in her capacity as the ranking I.A.S. officer assigned as Additional Deputy Commissioner to Tawang, and her account is the least reliable or informative; Nehru Nanda 1982: 112-113. British historian Michael Aris briefly visited Tawang in 1980 and conducted interviews that touched on the subject of Pla, but did not witness the festival; Aris 1980: 12. La-’og Yul-gsum occurs in local and regional documents from the 1487 visit by Padma Gling-pa up until at least the end of the seventeenth

7

century; see the Rgyal rigs (Aris 1986: 42-43) and the Rta wang bca’ yig of 1699. The Fifth Dalai Lama’s edict of 1680 has La-chen ’Tsho-gsum (Aris 1980: 14-15). Only during the Ganden Phodrang period of rule did the various names based upon tsho start to apply. Billorey 1976 and Billorey 1978 cited Lhau, Khrimu and Mukto as surviving Pla sites during the 1970s. Brief remarks by Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 154 confirm the Tshosum area of Tawang as a main centre for Pla, ‘There are also those who have faith in Bon religion. For example, the Nyi-ma Tsho-gsum annually worshipped their communal lha, and on the occasion that the Bon worship of the lha was made with careful and extensive offerings, there were horse races and displays of dance’ (Bon chos la dad pa byed mkhan yang yod / dper na nyi ma tsho gsum kyis lo ltar tsho lha gsol te bon lha gsol mchod gzab rgyas byed skabs rta rgyug gar ’khrab byed kyi yod pa red). Tibetan documents from the 1680s and 1690s name this area Dag-pa [’]tsho-lnga (Aris 1980: 11, 14-15, 20 n. 23), while according to my own informants in the area and more recent local documents it is now called Dakpanang (CT Dag-pa-nang) or D[w]ag-pa Tsho-brgyad. Under this latter designation, Ye-shes ‘Phrin-las 1983: 141 lists the eight village clusters of Mu-khob-shag gsum tsho, bZang-lung tsho, Kha-bong tsho, Khri-lam tsho, mThong-len tsho, Padma-mkhar tsho, ’Ung-la tsho and Sag-bkras tsho as comprising it. When Padma Gling-pa journeyed to the region he identified Shar La-’og Yul-gsum in 1487 and again in 1488/89. He first entered by passing through Bu-ri and Byang-phug (cf. Rgyal rigs: 29b), adjacent Dakpa speaking villages which still exist with the same names today high upon the slopes above the north (i.e., true right) bank of the Tawang Chu. From Bu-ri, the route east leads directly down via bDe-stong-mkhar (cf. ’Dus-stung-mkhar in Rgyal rigs: 26b) and Dang-phu (or Ngang-phu) into the lower altitude area known today as Dakpanang. When at this latter place, Padma Gling-pa explicitly mentioned meeting a nun named Dag-pa-yul gyi A-ni Kun-dga’ bZang-mo before moving higher up the eastern hillsides to visit Se-ru, Yul Rus-bu-mkhar (cf. Rgyal rigs: 29b) and O-rgyan-gling, all of which he located in La-’og Yul-gsum proper; see Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 85a, 1-5; 101a, 4-102a, 1. Both the Rgyal rigs: 27a and the Lo rgyus: 20a-20b refer to this area and its villages (and village inhabitants) using the name Dag-pa in contrast to La-’og Yul-gsum. The authors of these works were of course all ‘outsiders’ to the area being described, and whether their distinctions were more than a matter of sub-regional place names we have no way of knowing. The name Dakpa is often associated with a set of negative stereotypical markers, including a greater propensity to hunt, to butcher and trade or sell domestic animals, to practice black magic and poisoning, as well as a certain coarseness of character. As cultural practices or markers, these same traits are also found in (or associated with) many remoter communities in the region. When associated with Dakpa, they rather reflect stereotypes typical of premodern elite and/or institutional attitudes towards and representations of peripheral regions that tried to maintain their own agency and distance from the influence of hierocratic Buddhist states in the region. A more positive but rather fanciful modern Bhutanese assessment of the Dag-pa, one that confuses them

Notes to pages 499–501

with the Tibetic speaking Brokpa of nearby Merag and Sakteng, is recorded in Aris 1986: 82 n. 95. 8 The zhal ngo residence was at Kha-steng (Kapteng on map U502 NG 46-2), located on the east bank of the lower Nyamjang Chu; see Nanda 1982: 6, 125-126 and Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 143 for accounts of the last incumbent Khateng zhal ngo (Nanda has “sengu”, Ye-shes ’Phrin-las has Dwags-pa zhal ngo). Kha-steng is highly likely Kha-rtsing mentioned in the Rgyal rigs: 42b-43a (cf. Rgyal rigs 2: 125), a name closely related to Kha-rtsing Las-kyi rDo-rje, one of the three rDo-rje brothers from lHo-brag claimed as ancestors of the various local rulers known collectively as the dpon chen zhal ngo. Kha-rtsing Las-kyi rDo-rje is said to have originally settled and taken power in Tshi-rab sTong-phu Zhang-tshan, the modern Tomzhangtsen above the Doksum junction of the Kholong Chu and Drangmé Chu rivers, and a mere fifteen kilometres to the west of Khateng. 9 While exhibiting certain similarities with Tsho-gsum Pla, the central rites in Hoongla Pla invoke both Gurzhe and his elder brother Nam-rdo-zhe, who are mentioned as dGung-ma Phla dGur-zhe, and Nam-dor-zhe in the local rabs. This pair represent key deities in the Dzala speaking region, while they were both worshipped in the upper Kholong Chu valley during the past, and continue to be nowadays along the Khoma Chu valley (see ch.9). Hoongla also preserves the sGam-chen Pha-wang rabs that, apart from a few fragmentary references, has now been lost by all other worship communities in the Mon-yul Corridor, although a few traces of it are still visible. Additionally, the Hoongla priests have an old mtshe mi lineage that is now not evinced anywhere else in the region. 10 Aris 1988: 113. See the lineage reckoning of the lHa’u Kham-pa branch of the clan in Aris 1988: 235-236, n. 11, and of all major lines descended from Gong-dkar-rje in Aris 1979: Table 5 (opp. p. 98), both of which are based upon the Rgyal rigs genealogy (ed. Aris 1986: 42-47). 11 See the exhaustive treatment of the possible Tibetan Buddhist historiographical development of the lHa-sras gTsang-ma story in Classical Tibetan sources given by Aris 1979: ch. 4. 12 lHa’u had apparently come under Jo-bo control at the time of Kun-nu’s paternal great-grandfather dGon-dkar-rje; Rgyal rigs: 29a. 13 Rgyal rigs: 29b, translation after Aris 1986: 45 except that ku nu in his manuscript reads kun nu in Rgyal rigs 2: 115 and Mor shing rgyal rigs: 60a, l. 3. 14 The form bSe-ru’i yul-ljongs is mentioned in marginalia on specific manuscript copies of the Rgyal rigs; see Ardussi 2007a: 3. 15 Folio 14a of the Rgyal rigs manuscript used by Aris 1986: 28 reads lha’i khams pa, which Aris translated as a folk etymology explaining the local clan name of the Kham-pa Jo-bo. However, other manuscripts simply read lha’u kham pa here, which represent the conventional community territory (lHa’u) and sub-settlement (Kham-pa) names; Rgyal rigs 2: 98, 112, Rgyal rigs 3: 51, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 43b, l. 6. It is possible the name first appeared in British colonial records during the mid-nineteenth century as ”Kampa Butias”, “Kampo-Butias” and “Kampoo” to denote Tawang and its inhabitants, and by extension also peoples from the north and Tibet in general; Assam Secretariat 1882: page 9 of the file, Elwin 1959: 437. Khampo has remained the Sherdukpen ethnonym for ‘Tibetans’ until today; Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 98. The spoken clan name Kham or Khamachi

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

(achi means ‘elder brother’ in Dakpa) existed in Lhau at the time of my research. Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 160, whose superficial and incomplete data lead him to dismiss the existence of any clans in the Mon-yul Corridor in favour of “classes”, noted the Kham “marry among themselves or marry people of Shermu class [i.e., the Shar-mo clan]”. However, among all the marriages I recorded, Kham members married partners from a range of other named clans. One suspects addition of the –mo nominal to clan names may have been related to social traits, such as higher female status in descent reckoning or bride-giver roles, that originally defined those clans so-marked as different compared with others in the region. The -’u endings may represent a diminutive signalling a branch lineage, yet they are so common in proper names around the region that they may also reflect language and dialect particularities. Written names such as lHa’u, with meaningful Classical Tibetan spellings in local documents, frequently represent formalisations of orally circulated names, as well as being both products of, and subjected to folk etymology. If the lHa’u name is taken to represent the diminutive ‘little lha’, as some local informants explain it, then it is deviant in terms of the Classical Tibetan pattern of vowel shifts attending diminutive transformations, e.g., lha > lhe’u is frequently attested; see ch. 15 for further discussion and examples. See sKom-mo, Rlon-mo, Rog-mo in Rgyal rigs (45a) and sKom, Blon, Rogs in Rgyal rigs 2 (114). Among them, Rog is the only well-known old clan. They were based around Yar-lung and southern Tibet with members active as early Buddhist teachers; see all the Rog entries in Roerich 1979: 948, 953, 1244-1245. On Rog-pa, see Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 239-240, map 1, and on Rog-pa-sa see Roerich 1979: 1087. Sog-ma-stengs is the modern Shog-tshan (Ye-shes ’Prin-las 1983: 141; “Shoktsen” on published map) located above sPang-chen in the Nyang-shang Chu valley. The descent to Sog-ma-stengs described in the lo rgyus section of the Khyung gdung rabs (6a, 7-6b, 1: dge bshes la rtser sleb // de nas phyin pas khri mo bum pa gdung du sleb // de nas ltas pas sog ma stengs mthong) is the same as the pre-modern trade route stages between mTsho-sna and sPang-chen via the dGe-bshes La (“Khyeshing La”) and Khri-mo (“Trimo”); see Bailey and Morshead 1914: 79. Khyung gdung rabs: 13a, 1-4: skom blon rog gsum sog ma steng la slebs dus / lha’u mi gong [read: grong] bdun la med / shar mtsho [read: tsho] la mi gong [read: grong] bcu gcig la med / se ru la [add: mi] gong [read: grong] lnga la med / lha’u khu bzang la gong [read: las] bur rgyud zer / shar mtho [read: tsho] pa [read: ba] la [read: las] bur rgyud zer / bse ru kun las bur rgyud zer /. These are both old clan names (see Ra-ma and Geng-ra in appx. G), however it is unclear whether they refer here to social units or their territories. Mor shing rgyal rigs: 57b, 2-58a, 1, cf. Rgyal rigs 2: 114: nged kyis [read: kyi] A mi btso ri’i rjes la yong ba’i ’bangs khu mo’i byungs khungs ni // sngon tsho gsum khri mo nas chad pa’i rag ma sgeng ra rgyud nas // sgam ri’i chu rgyud sa gling la yong // sa gling dir slebs pa’i mkhar pa’i bu // ya yu ba // de’i bu yar btegs // dpal bzang dang zang po // bzang po rgyud chad // nor bzang gi rgyud da lta yod [58a] pa khri mo pa’i mi tshan ces

633

Notes to pages 501–507

so //. I did not record the name Khri-mo-pa or its possible phonetic forms in any village field surveys conducted in Dirang district, and the descent line under that name is perhaps extinct. 23 See Hoongla 5: 68b, 3 where the village (Dakpa: yui, yuimo) is named Khrid-mo. 24 See Aris 1980: 14-15 on the Fifth Dalai Lama’s edict of 1680. 25 See the hybrid Dakpa influenced Tibetan manuscript Lhau 2: 167168, with readings from the duplicate version Lhau 1: pha dang mes po yang mes ku tshe le / na be se negs ya byong lo / khu nam [read: gnam] sa se ru gsum ning na be se negs ya byong lo / kyi’i [read: skyi’i] pha bzhi bu bzhi [168] ning na be se negs ya byong lo / mgo le rmog blum [read: klub] pa ku na ya na byong nga / lus le khrabs klub pa ku na ya na byong nga / zungs ’di dpun gsum ku na zhung [read: gzhung] chig le bkos sho //. 26 The sKyid forms of the name probably relate to the place name sKyid which is located in lHo-brag just north of the research region, while the sKyi forms suggest a possible connection with the famous clan from Central Tibet of the same name; Guntram Hazod pers. comm. May 2013, see also Sørensen and Hazod 2007, I: 22 n. 10. 27 Lhau 2: 23a, 4-25a, 6. 28 Ar-rgya-gdung’s foundation is attributed to Blo-bzang bsTan-pa’i sgron-me (active late fifteenth to mid-sixteenth centuries) in the Rgyal rigs (Aris 1986: 45), see also Sarkar 1980: 6. 29 According to an eighteenth century Bhutanese source; see Aris 1986: 117 n. 9, also pp. 89, 93. The site is locally attributed as having earlier been a Padmasambhava cave. 30 See the colophon of Lhau 2: 101a, 1-3: bla ma’i gdan sa brag dkar mgon [read: dgon] pa nas // chos med rna [read: rnal] ’byor // ’phrin las yongs du ’bris //. 31 Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 5-7, sbyin bdag ser skya mang po. 32 Billorey 1978: 21. 33 See Aris 1980: 12, who also mentions the phu deities in the same connection. 34 The origins of the term are obscure, but Tibetan kha chung lit. ‘small mouth’ is used to describe a container with a narrow opening; cf. CT dud chung lit. ‘small smoke’ to refer to small premodern communities of landless, bonded peasant mi ser within the Ganden Phodrang state. Kachung appears to be used equivalent to lding, which is applied more commonly to pastoralists or communities with pastoralist ancestors elsewhere in the region. The Tsho-gsum kachung system is seldom mentioned by those writing on the district; Nanda 1982: 5 noted eleven kachung in the Shar tsho, and Tsewang Norbu 2008: 165 noted six at Lhau. 35 Compare the observations of Diemberger 1997: 315-316 and Diemberger 1993: 96-98 on highland Nepal. 36 See also the pair in the photograph “Bon priests” in Nanda 1982: following p. 36, while von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 171 mentions “several priests” active at the Pla event he witnessed. 37 Here and in the matching lines below, ’i represents the common Dakpa ergative marking the nine bon as the agents of btsugs. The ’i ergative frequently occurs in Tibetan-Dakpa hybrid texts, but on the other hand in this text the author or scribe is confused in using appropriate forms of the Tibetan genitive and semi-final particles. 38 The text mixes up dkar po for kham pa here.

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39

Note the ‘elemental’ deity me lha (cf. the Gzer myig in Francke 1927: 195/232) connected with sTag-lha Me-’bar here, but cf. the mention of me lha in the thirteenth century Dgongs gcig yig cha polemic, which Martin 2001: 191 n. 25 connects with Me-ri of g.Yung-drung Bon. 40 Original reads: stag lha me ’bar [insert: gyis] mgo la btsugs / dkar po dung gis [read: gi] bya ru de /, and I have reversed the order of the two lines in my edition to conform to the recurring pattern in the text. 41 Lhau 5: 1b, 1-6b, 1: sngon gyis [read: gyi] bskal pa dang po la / gnam yang med do sa yang med do / ci yang med pa’i dgongs rol na / g.yung rung [read: drung] bon gyis lha la phyag ’tshal lo / bya ru thogs pa’i bon dgu la / gser po gser gyis [read: gyi] bya ru dang / sngon po g.yu’i [2a] bya ru dang / kham pa dngul gyis [read: gyi] bya ru dang / dkar po dung gyis [read: gi] bya ru dang / smug po chong kyis [read: gi] bya ru dang / nag po lcags kyis [read: kyi] bya ru dang / gsang ba mthing gis [read: gi] bya ru dang / mdzes pa rma bya’i bya ru dang / khro bo g.zi’i bya ru dang dgu ru ’byung / [2b] da ni bya ru’i btsugs lugs bshad do // gser po gser gyi bya ru de / dpal lcam brgyad kyis mgo la btsugs / lho phyogs bshin rje’i gnod pa bsrung / sngon po g.yu’i bya ru de / khams bon rgod po’i mgo la btsugs / [3a] mgo la btsugs pa’i dus ste [read: te] / byang phyogs gnod sbyin gyi gnod pa bsrungs / dkar po [read: kham pa] dngul gyi bya ru de / snyan bon prod de’i mgo la btsugs / mgo la btsugs pa’i dus ste [read: te] / shar lho me lha’i gnod pa bsrungs / dkar po dung gis [read: gi] bya ru de / stag lha me ’bar [add: gyi] mgo la [3b] btsugs / mgo la btsugs pa’i dus de [read: te] / nub phyogs klu dbang gis gnod pa bsrungs / dmug [read: smug] po chong gis [read: gi] bya ru de / drug shing gsang ba’i mgo la btsugs / shar phyogs dri za’i gnod pa bsrungs / nag po lcags [4a] kyi bya ru de / lcags shar bde ma’i mgo la btsugs / mgo la btsugs pa’i dus te / lho nub srin po’i gnod pa bsrungs / gsang ba mthing gi bya ru bde [read: de] / me gnyag bon po’i mgo la btsugs / mgo la btsugs pa’i dus te / nub byang rlung lha’i [4b] gnod pa bsrungs / mdzes pa rma bya’i bya ru bde [read: de] / mthing dkar lcags kyis mgo la btsugs / mgo la btsugs pa’i dus te / byang shar dbang ldan gyis gnod pa bsrungs / khro bo g.zi’i bya ru bde [read: de] / zhang zhung bon po’i mgo la btsugs / mgo la btsugs [5a] pa’i dus te / dbus phyogs sa bdag gis gnod pa bsrung / bon gyis bya ru btsugs pa’i le’u rdzogs so // dge’o // bya ru btsugs pa’i dus su / shar gyi sa bdag stag skyo [read: skya] bo’i gnod pa bsrungs cig / lho’i sa bdag [5b] ’brug sngon po’i gnod pa bsrungs cig / nub kyi sa bdag bya dmar mo’i gnod pa bsrungs cig / byang gi sa bdag rul dpal kham pa’i gnod pa bsrung cig / shar phyogs shing gi gnod pa bsrungs cig / lho phyogs me’i gnod pa bsrungs cig / nub phyogs [6a] lcags kyi gnod pa bsrungs cig / byang phyogs chu’i gnod pa bsrungs cig / mtshams bzhi sa’i gnod pa bsrungs cig / btsan kyi rgyal po skyes [read: skyid] bu lung btsan kyi gnod pa bsrungs cig / bdud kyi rgyal po ga ra [read: dga’ rab] dbang phyug gi gnod pa bsrungs [6b] cig / sen [read: srin] mo spun dgu’i gnod pa bsrungs cig /. A text of similar content is found in Lawa 2, text 8: 1a-2b. 42 After Neeru Nanda 1982, pl. opp. p. 36. Identifications by local informants. 43 Due to their age and the dress-like costumes worn by the boy bro pa at Lhau, Nanda 1982: 112 mistakenly identified them as girls whom she called “devis”, however local informants and all the available historical accounts and photographs only mention or depict boys. 44 During Pla performances of the 1970s, Billorey 1978: 22 noted “Five small boys, with their peacock feathered headdress and bright multicoloured silk streamers flowing to their knees, participating in the ritual dance”, while Nanda 1982: 112 identified seven performers.

Notes to pages 509–521

During the 1980 Pla, von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 171 observed “[T]here were several small boys gorgeously attired with jewellery and wearing wide-rimmed pointed hats slightly reminiscent of the headgear of the so-called black-hat dancers who form a feature of certain Buddhist ritual dances.” All the available historical photographs dating from the 1980s depict only four bro pa boys performing. 45 Dakpa poudung/beydung appears to be related to Tibetan dpa’ dam (cf. Dzongkha dpa’ rtags) and perhaps Tshangla dung, that all mean ‘sword’. 46 Billorey 1978: 22. 47 See von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 171. 48 There is also an isolated extension of the phenomenon to the south. See n. 73 below on the baidongpo performers in the Sherdukpen clan festival of Khiksaba. Baidongpo is a borrowing from Dakpa beydungpa, and along with a variety of other convincing examples demonstrates the derivation of central elements of Khiksaba from Pla in Tawang. 49 For examples, see Pignède 1993 [1966]: 370-371, Höfer 1997: 16 n. 2, 9, pl. 9 following p. 122, Höfer 1981: pl. 11 following p. 99, Chuan-kang Shih 1998: 116-117 pls., He Limin and He Shincheng 1998: 157-159, Rock 1955: 8-9. Note also the presence of those who hold spears and battle-axes in a processional list of ritual actors for a funeral recorded in the Old Tibetan document PT 1042: 123-124, de’i ’og du phyag cha mdung pa / de’i ’og du phyag cha dgra sta / pa. 50 See, for example, gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s arrival at Phying-ba sTag-rtse in Lde’u jo sras: 102, de nas phying ba stag rtser byon te dar dkar gyi yol ba dgu rim bgyis. 51 Lhama Wangchu 2002: 20 la-bou ‘plantain flower’, la-sheng ‘plantain tree’. 52 The term gomdung appears related to the office of gomi who served as leaders for each kachung. 53 See von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 172. 54 Billorey 1978: 22-23, cf. Nanda 1982: 113, “Plah at Lhou is now marked by secular sports. There is an archery contest and an exhilarating horse race.” 55 I find this interpretation somewhat doubtful for the following reason. Elderly informants reported that the Tibetan rdzong dpon were arrogant towards villagers during Pla, expecting to be hosted with quantities of the best alcohol and food, and even the company of local women. This fits well with a host of other reports about the behaviour of premodern Tibetan officials at remote postings such as Tawang. Whenever Tibetan officials were discussed by elderly persons in my oral history interviews throughout the Mon-yul Corridor, they were mentioned with general contempt. This being the case, we might ask why a community would want to recall and celebrate their presence in a major communal festival? 56 The summer residence of the rdzong dpon was actually at the hot spring complex several kilometres from the old mTsho-sna village; Fletcher 1975: 55, and see the sites inscribed as Chu-tshan and mTsho-sna rDzong on the Wise Map collection sheet Add Or 3017 held in The British Library. It is these hot springs, and not the rDzong, which are the older landmark in the region, and probably the site of Ma-dro mTsho-shod ’du gnas marking the southern boundary of the g.Yo-ru horn in some older accounts; Uebach 1999: 266, 273, map.

57 58 59

Ramble 2007: 702-705, and especially fig. 1. Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983: 142. Also written ’bog to and ’bog [r]do, with this last spelling also used for a flat stone implement of similar size and shape to the ’bog tho hat which is used to pound rammed earth floors and roofs in premodern Tibetan building techniques. The etymological point of exact resemblance is that the ’bog rdo stone tool has one broad flat surface below for pounding that then tapers upwards at an angle to a narrower top, in order to increase its thickness and mass and give it strength; see Grothmann 2011: 20-21, pls. 16-17. 60 Billorey 1976: 7. 61 Nanda 1982: 113. 62 Rice has been mainly grown in lower Dakpanang; see the relative crop production statistics for Tawang region during the 1960s and 1970s quoted in von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 153 and Tsewang Norbu 2008: 140. 63 Nanda 1982: 113. 64 Billorey 1978: 22 called the lha shing “Chandosing” (his ‘sing’ = Dakpa sheng, Dzala and Kurtöp seng ‘tree’) which must refer to a species of pine, cf. Kurtöp chakseng ‘cher pine’ and dokseng ‘blue pine’, Chocha-ngacha cangshing ‘blue pine’. 65 Cf. Nanda 1982: 113 on Pla at Lhau in the mid-1970s, “During the puja each household places its basket of offerings on the large, flat stones. The baskets contain grains of wheat and barley. The curious features of this ritual is [sic.] the offerings of little animal figures made out of flour which are also placed on the stones.” 66 In Hoongla 5: 48b, l. 3-4 written forms of these latter two names occur as ’Jo-bo Li-rtseng dGrags-pa and ’Jo-bo Phrang-ma’i bu, together with a third name, ’Jo-bo dPan-sta; cf. also f. 20a, 7 ’Jo-’o sPan-rta and Li-rtseng dGrag. Worship of the deity dPan-sta is mentioned in several bon shaman texts from the Khoma Chu valley; see n. 116 of ch. 16. 67 Macdonald 1980: 203 reported Dvags-po as an ancestral clan name in a Sherpa Mes rabs. Clan names and toponynms often replicate each other, and one can note a Dvags-pa toponym in Mal-gro, Central Tibet; see Sørensen, Hazod, with Tsering Gyalbo 2005: map 1b, ‘The area of Upper sKyid-shod.’ On the ancient D[w]ag[s] region north-east of Mon mTsho-sna, see my ch. 18. One can note that written Tibetan Dag, Dags, Dwag or Dwags (i.e. Dvags in some transcriptions) variants in the sources are all homophonous and not necessarily a definitive indicator for making fixed distinctions. 68 Billorey 1978 gave a four day schedule for the festival, although the events he describes as being staged across the period of the “first day” and “second day” are those which my informants described as all taking place on the second day (my Day Two herein). In the daily schedule of his Tour Diary, Billorey 1976: 6 reports staying in Lhau from 10am-2pm on 14 April, and again from ca. 11am-7pm on 15 April. Thus, he witnessed less than half of the total Pla festival days, and caution is required reading some of his interpretations. 69 Billorey 1978: 22. 70 Nanda 1982: 112. 71 Billorey 1976: 8. 72 Billorey 1978: 22. 73 The horse-fertility cult that appears in the Sherdukpen Khiksaba festival is without doubt derived from regional Srid-pa’i lha cult rites to

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Notes to pages 521–534

74 75

76

77

78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

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the north, most probably via long historical contacts with older Dakpa speaking clans who migrated southwards from Tawang. Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 101-102 report that performers called ‘Baidongpo’ are responsible to sing of the “sacred horse” that is represented by an elongated and obviously phallic piece of wood, and which they carry and gesture symbolically with (see their pl. XVIII). They comment that, “it is not so much the horse as its penis, and these songs, as the Baidongpos clearly imply, are about fertility” (p. 102). Baidongpo in Sherdukpen is an obvious loan and variant of Dakpa beydungpa from Pla festivals and their actual ritual actions with the ‘horse’ phallus have many parallels to the Lhau Pla. Moreover, the most telling evidence of this transfer is the language of the Khiksaba songs sung in this context by the Baidongpo, which is actually Dakpa, i.e., colloquially called ‘Brahmi’ by Sherdukpen speakers; Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 101 n. 10. See von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 170-172. For examples of this feature observed during Kharpu in Wamling see Dorji Penjore 2004: 54-55, during Ha in Gortshom see Tashi Choden 2004: 13-14, and at ‘Roop’ (written Rup) in Goleng see Lham Dorji 2004: 28, 31-38. Along the Khengkha speaking Jamkhar Chu, I found these days for abstention from work called ‘lam’, while at sites along the Chochangacha speaking mid-Kuri Chu valley they are called ‘lan’; both words mean something like ‘restriction’. Commenting upon the post-seventeenth century demise of clans in what became the Bhutanese ’Brug-pa state, Aris 1979: 107 observed that, “[T]hose [clans] of the Mon-yul corridor seem to have outlasted the dGe-lugs-pa regime that was thrust upon them.” Sørensen and Hazod 2010 point towards something similar for Central Tibet which came under the most intensive form of Ganden Phodrang administration: “With regard to the ancestral lineages in the strictest sense, one notices that in the political core areas of the Highlands (i.e., central Tibet) from the 17th c. onwards the old clan names gradually disappeared.” For the region as a whole, Samuel 1993: 115 (following studies by Aziz and Goldstein) characterised “centralized agricultural” areas as having a “household- rather than lineagebased kinship system”, while the “remote agricultural communities“ (typical of highland Nepal, for instance) usually stress lineages rather than households. This latter comment appears true for certain regional pastoral communities on the peripheries of states, in which descent frequently plays a stronger role than residence. Billorey 1978: 22, 25, cf. Billorey 1976: ninth page of the file. See von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 172. Preface to Tashi Lama 1999: i-ii, and cf. von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 164. Sarkar 1980: 40. See Sarkar 1980: 33 on the historical introduction and staus of rDorje Shugs-ldan at Tawang. See the summary of the modern rDo-rje Shugs-ldan controversy in von Brück 1999: ch. 4. See Balikci 2008: 63 n. 40 on Sikkim, and Mumford 1989 on Nepal. For insights into the Indian government’s development process in this area, see Rustomji 1971: 125-127, 194, 272, 277, 295-296, and relevant sections of 303-324 Appendix—NEFA Diary, also GuyotRéchard 2017: 102-103, 211-212.

86 87 88 89 90

See Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 51 fig. 3.15 for a photograph of Pema Gombu in 2011. A photograph of the original document was kindly procured for me at Tawang by Swagajyoti Gohain. Billorey 1976: ninth page of the file. Nanda 1982: 112. See von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: v.

13. Wild A nim a ls, Ta lism a ns a nd Mimick ing 1

2

3

4

5 6 7 8

On wild animal products as part of Tibetan taxation imposed on Tawang, and as trade items going to Tibet via the Mon-yul Corridor, see Ye-shes ‘phrin-las 1983: 147, 150, Ali 1945: 3-4. My elderly informants in Dirang reported it was compulsory to supply certain wild animal produces, but especially bear’s gall and musk pods, to Tibetan tax agents on an annual basis up until the mid-1940s. See reports in Aris 1994: 66, Bauer and Herr 2004: 58, Haab and Vellis 1969 [1961]: 11, 17, Martin, Martin and Vigne 1987: 215-216, Olschak 1979: 34, Reichel 1990, and White 1909: 189. See also the biography of a Bhutanese singer who worked as a royal hunting assistant (sharog) to the Third King, Jigme Dorji Wangchuk, at: http://www.keystobhutan.com/bhutan/bhutan_people_yak.php (accessed 7 October 2012). Modern, indigenous writers who are either Buddhist-inspired or being ‘politically correct’ (or both) simply obviate the fact of hunting in their accounts of the region and its cultural and economic history. Tashi Lama was writing in the 1980s, during a period when hunting was still far less stigmatised. I have retranslated the verse based upon the original transcription from Dakpa in Tashi Lama 1999: 12: Tsanga nyathir gyachu ashang damba Riye sha thir gyachu ashang damba Gonpa lama shet gyachu ashang damba Sholo sholo ashang damba Amma kau mathongsa. I read tsanga as CT gtsang ‘river’ with a contraction of manga ‘down’. The Dakpa kin term ashang/azhang can refer to ‘father’s sister’s husband’, ‘mother’s brother’ and also ‘father-in-law’ for a male ego, although I let it stand here merely as respectful address. The published translation reads: “Come with me. Let us go for fishing in the river of lower belt. Let us go hunting over the top of the mountain. Let us go to greet the priest in the gompa. Don’t trouble your mother. Come with me soon.” Allen 1997. For published versions, see Tashi Lama 1999 and Bod kyi lha mo’i zlo gar. On Chos-dbyings Rang-grol, see ch. 7 n. 40. In both Khomakha dialect of Dzala and Kurtöp sor is a ‘fish trap’, which I assume is what sho refers to here. Sor are made from thick plant stems woven into an elongated basket of ca. 1.5 metres in length, with the wide open mouth at the top placed upstream in a

Notes to pages 534

9

10

11

river and the tapering, closed lower end trailing downstream. Stones can be used to block the river either side of the trap’s top entrance so that fish will swim into it. Multiple stems pointing inwards from the mouth function as obstructive barbs (mang da, cf. CT mang mda’), and these plus the current of the water stop the fish from swimming back out of the trap. The written text is influenced by both the Lawa sub-dialect of Dzala and Kurtöp, see Lawa 1, text 10: 14a, 4-15a, 3: Da ni na wan rab cig bshad // phya nang khri btang do go nags // brgyad khri btang na zha’i btang gi // brgyad khri btang na sha’i btang gi // rigs gsum rtse ru phong byabs na // g.yon mo yag [14b] gi gzhu rdzong zi // g.yas mo yag gi mda’ byabs zi // na wan sha go do go ras // brgyad khri btang na sha’i btang gi // phya nang khri btang do go nags // bar khri btang na zha’i btang gi // bar khri btang na bya’i btang gi // nags ma’i bu sto srang byabs na // g.yon mo yag gi rib chud rtse // g.yas mo yag gi srang byabs zi // na wan bya go do do ras // bar khri btang bya’i btang gi // ’og khri btang na zha btang gi // ’og khri btang na nya btang gi // chu gsum bdud [15a] to sho byabs na // g.yon mo yag gi phu dam zi // g.yas mo yag gi mang da tum zi // na wan na nya go do go ras // ’og khri btang na nya’i btang gi // phya nang khri btang do go nags // khri btang theg nang lha’i bu ne’i btang gi // da ni na wan rab cig rdzogs //. Vocabulary notes: nang and to mark dative-locative; btang ‘shelf ’ is a flat area or surface cf. CT thang; do go is context dependent for both ‘nine’ and ‘many’ like CT dgu; informants explain nags approximating the CT existential verb yod pa, but see Hyslop 2017: 200, 212 on nak ‘to be at’ in Kurtöp and Bumthap; on brgyad for ‘top’ or ‘upper’, cf. Kurtöp je, jedo Hyslop 2017: 92, 116; for phong I read CT ’phang/’phong; for yag cf. Kurtöp yâ Hyslop 2017: 103, 209; for zha cf. Kurtöp çá Hyslop 2017: 35; terminal zi and rtse are non-final particles; srang represents spoken seng in Dzala and Dakpa; for bu sto, cf. Kurtöp bardo Hyslop 2017: 293; for rib chud cf. CT rib ma ‘fence’, and spoken Dzala and Kurtöp chut ‘cut’; rigs gsum is read ri gsum and bdud is read mdo, in line with typical mythological place references in local rabs texts; terminal gi is read bgyid/bgyi, the precise tense uncertain. The written text strongly reflects the Lawa sub-dialect of Dzala and also Kurtöp. Lawa 1, text 2: 20a, 4-20b, 3: kyis rje lha mo phya ’bang byas do / so ’o ha’i kyi la / skyem di bo re naa wan O rtse / so ’o ha’i tang de / skyem di bo re na wan O rtse / so ’o ha’i nang de / rgya ’di bo re na wan O rtse / so ’o ha’i tang de / rgya ’di bo re na wan O rtse / so ’o ha’i nang de / bha sha bo [20b] re na wan O rtsi / so ’o ha’i tang de / ba sha bo re na wan O rtsi / so ’o ha’i nang de / babs bya bo re na wan O rtsi / so ’o ha’i tang de / babs bya bo re na wan O rtsi / so ’o ha’i nang de / kham khu bo re na wan O rtsi / so ’o ha’i tang de / kham khu bo re na wan O rtsi / so ’o ha’i nang de /. The classificatory di/ti (written di/’di/di’) suffix signifies larger wild animal species in some local East Bodish dialects of northeastern Bhutan, in the same way as the sha suffix does in Tshangla. In Khoma and Kurtö, we also find the wild male mithun is called mandi/manti, while its half-wild hybrid male offspring produced from mating with domestic female oxen (ba) are termed badi/bati. In other local manuscripts from Khoma valley, the takin is called skyem-’di (Tsango 2: 7b) and skyem ’di ser po (Shawa 2: 17b), the ‘wild female yak of the north’ is called byang ku ’bri di (Lhau 2: 38b), while Bleiting 2: 6b, 7b has kyag ’di or kyal ’di for goral, ’phag ’di for wild pig, and no’u ge di’ most likely for a gazelle (cf. ch. 17, appx. J). This classificatory di/ti suffix may also relate to a feature of Kurtöp, see

12

13

14

Hyslop 2017: 132: “Kurtöp identifies five basic colors: kharti ‘white’, nyunti ‘black’, zhinti ‘red’, serti ‘yellow’, and ’ngunti ‘grue’ [see n. 1 “The term ‘grue’ is meant to capture the concept in which ‘blue’ and ‘green’ are collapsed into one color”]. It is interesting to note that the second syllable in each of these words is -ti, suggesting -ti to have a nominalizing or adjectivalizing function historically.” The text in Shawa 2: 17b, 1-18a, 3, is very terse, but contains the same two main verbs ([b]tang ‘dispatch’ and nang ‘give’ Hon.) used in the same order as at Lawa: skyag ’di btang ste / phag ’di btang ste / skyem ’di btang ste / skyem ’di ser po’i btang ste / skyag ’di ru can btang ste / phag ’di ze can btang ste / ba sha tung dkar ’di btang ste / kha sha mjug dkar btang ste / zho ba phrig dkar btang ste / pang bya bog ti [18a] btang ste / bab bya dang ti btang ste / ri’u mig zhin btang ste / kham ku mjug dum btang ste / btang te nang te btang lugs nag ke //. The ‘golden takin’ (skyem ’di ser po) mentioned here is interesting since nowadays these species usually occur in the far east of the eastern Himalayas and in western Sichuan. Words for takin have a complex background in the region. Takin itself may be borrowed from a Mishmi language – probably Digaru (see below) – and the ‘-kin’ element is cognate to kyin/khyin/ khying/khyim/khyem names related to takin in many highland areas along the eastern Himalayas where Tibetic and East Bodish languages are spoken. Names from other Tibeto-Burman languages of the extended eastern Himalayas for species with approximately analogous morphology may also be significant, e.g., see muntjac names in Naish languages and Burmese in Jacques and Michaud 2011: 471 Table 1 and Appendix 1: 16. Various Tibetan and west Bhutanese names for takin incorporate ‘yak’ references in addition to the kyin/khyin/khying/khyim/khyem elements that signal more a wild goat species (cf. CT skyin in BGT: 147 gzugs dbyibs ra dang ‘dra ba’i ri dwags shig), for example ’brong khyim si in earlier Bhutanese religious texts (today spoken jongkhimsi in western Bhutan), while Frederick Bailey, a keen hunter and wildlife enthusiast who spoke fluent Tibetan, reported east Himalayan names for takin (with [ ] = my insertions) as, “the Tibetans call them “Ya-Go [CT g.yag rgod?]”, but near Rima the Tibetan name is “Shing-Na” [CT shing gna’?]. To the Miju Mishmis (i.e., those living near Rima) they are known as “Kyem”, while the Mishmis up the Dibang river (Chulik Atta tribe) call them “Akrön.” The Abor name is “Siben-ö.” Takin is the name used by the Digaru Mishmi” (Bailey 1912: 1069-1070), and “The people of Po Me and Kongbo call them “Kyimyak” [CT skyin g.yag?] or “Tsimyak” (Bailey 1915: 74). The ’Brug-pa Kun-legs hagiography records a myth of the origin of the takin as a hybrid between goat and bovine animals; Kretschmar 1981: 112, Dowman 1980: 137-138, while the west Bhutanese oral tradition states this occurred at Changgangkhar in modern Thimphu. The term is generic and applied to similar species. For khamku in Kurtöp, Hyslop et al. In Preparation: 19 lists Tibetan Partridge (Perdix hodgsoniae), Common Quail (Coturnix coturnix), Japanese Quail (Coturnix japonica), Yellow-legged Buttonquail (Turnix tanki) and Barred Buttonquail (Turnix suscitator). In other nawan texts, written kham ku mjug dum meaning ‘short-tailed khamku’ occurs, and under khamkujukdum Hyslop et al. In Preparation: 19-20 lists Hill Partridge

637

Notes to pages 535–540

15 16 17

18

19

20

638

(Arborophila torqueola), Rufus-throated Partridge (Arborophila rufogulris) and Chestnut-breasted Partridge (Arborophila mandellii). See the full translation and notes in ch. 16, and the facsimile from the Bleiting 2 manuscript in appendix K. van Schaik 2013: 246-248, 253, PT 1042, Lalou 1953, Haarh 1969: 368370, 375. At the time of my research, the worship community for the Phudung festival was highly diverse and consisted mainly of persons from the small settlements of Rungja, Phudung and Bishum, Lachang and Khasow. Local clans (tshan) named Peichilupa, Khomu, Maphiu (only from nearby Bishum) and Songkarpa had hereditary obligations to undertake certain ritual roles. A hereditary bon po from the Peichilupa tshan in Khasow served this community, although the lineage’s ritual manuscript was lost and their ritual texts only exist in oral form, being chanted as Classical Tibetan influenced by Dakpa. A version of the lost manuscript was kept in the partner community of Sangti; see n. 18 below. At the time of my research, only a certain faction of Sangti village participated in this festival, plus some persons from Khasow and Lachang. Local clans (tshan) named Tukshipa, Bomyakpa, Songkarpa and Merakpa had hereditary obligations to undertake certain ritual roles, while a village lama chanted the rabs recorded in the manuscript Sangti 1. This manuscript is in large part identical with the Lhasöshe manuscript used at Thempang (see Thempang 1 in References), the major exception being a modified ritual journey itinerary chanted to obtain the ransom animal. Billorey 1978: 22 noted in 1976 that “Phla” was staged in Sangti village (Dirang), while von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 170 noted in 1980 that the bon po for Sangti’s “Chis-sö-bo” festival came from Khasow, and the bon po during the time of my field research was the son of the Khasow bon po noted by von Fürer-Haimendorf. Literate informants understood their festival to have originated at Lhau in Tawang, and described its ritual language as Brahmi or Dakpa – it is actually Classical Tibetan influenced by Dakpa. With the exception of some factions who represent migratory extensions of tshan at Dirang Busti, there is no hereditary status ranking based upon ‘bone’ quality among tshan in the upper Sangti valley. Rather, competing claims about the antiquity and chronology of migration into the area by each tshan are used locally to draw distinctions amongst them. These claims also refer to premodern kremi or ‘taxpayer’ status allotted by the Ganden Phodrang administration, since kremi implied ownership of, or exclusive rights to, land. Rather than ceremonial groups in tsheshomba agnatic units as occur at Thempang, each self-defined upper Sangti valley tshan that was recognised by others as a kremi had individual krekhang or ‘tax household’ sub-units that usually represent long-established natal family houses. This rite is what domestic hunters in the upper Sangti valley normally use to address the phu for success. If a kill is made, the hunter returns to the flags, takes a clean forest leaf, and places some drops of fresh blood from the animal’s carcass together with a piece of the animal’s ear upon a leaf, which is then laid on the earth beside the flags; cf. ch. 17.

21

I observed old sets of takin horns mounted on the central pillars of houses belonging to several hereditary ritual specialists who perform Srid-pa’i lha rites within Dirang district. 22 See the observations by Imti 1955: pp. 12-13 of the file; cf. also Oshong Ering 2005: 69-70 for the same phenomenon elsewhere in the region. 23 On the construction of a Sherdukpen equivalent of the shalung using ritually pure tree branches in annual clan revitalisation festivals called Khiksaba, see Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 86 pl. xvii, although the term they used to designate it is unclear. They translate loblang as “god residence” (p. 146) indicating it specifically as a place name where such structures are erected (p. 137), and separately mention the structure of tree branches resembling a shalung as the “God’s home”. For Mey/Sherdukpen loblang, Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 84 have “the Place blang of the God(s) lo” and that blang means “an inhabited place” (p. 141). In Mey/Sherdukpen, toblang is a ‘cattle pen’, langbuche a ‘fence’, langkhung the ‘ground floor’ of a house (Rinchin Dondrup 1988: 41, Blench 2011), and probably blang refers to a structure consisting of a space directly upon the earth surrounded by an enclosure, such as the shalung and the loblang ‘God’s home’. Since lo is the Mey/Sherdukpen cognate of CT lha used in much ritual terminology (see n. 47 of ch. 1), it appears likely loblang is a spoken cognate of CT lha brang ‘deity’s abode/hut’ used elsewhere throughout the region to the north to describe the same type of ritual structures, just as brang is found in non-Kho-Bwa languages to the north of the Mey/Sherdukpen area to refer to structures used as livestock pens, sheds and huts (e.g., Tshangla wa-brang ‘cattle-pen’, ta-brang ‘stable’; Brokpaké ta-brang ‘cattle-pen’). 24 The use of bhelaghar during Bhogali Bihu also involves males spending the night at the structure as the bon po and his assistant do in Dirang villages, as well as the offering of rice cakes (pitha) as are used for offering in the shalung. The bhelaghar is associated with a fire called meji and the deity of fire, and after its use the structure is burned to the ground again. Bhelaghar can often be observed as small, discreet structures with the approximate size and form of a shalung as in plate 188. However, throughout the period between 2002 and 2014, when I regularly travelled in Assam, I observed their construction becoming highly elaborated in design and dimensions, often to the point of hardly reflecting the older bhelaghar any more at many sites. 25 See Huber 2015b. 26 Hudum is intended to promote rainfall and fertility, and involves naked dance and erotic songs performed in the fields by women who mimic ploughing. It is most common among Koch-Rajbongshi communities. See Barma 2008: 183-186, Risley 1891-1892: 498, and I thank Kanak Roy, native of Dhubri district in western Assam and long-serving driver for my research expeditions in north-east India between 2005 and 2012, for first hand accounts of Hudum practiced in his natal village. 27 Tamang et al. 2018: Conclusions, cf. also remarks on Bodo-Koch in van Driem 2012: 203 28 For a full review of the Tibetan historical sources on the G[w]a-thung dynasty of Mon based at or around Shar Dom-kha/Dong-kha’, see Aris 1979: 101-107, and cf. Aris 1995: 25, 69 n.40 on the Ka-tsa-ra name in Tibetan language documents which he earlier speculated applied to Aka and Miji but then revised in favour of Kachari.

Notes to pages 541–547

29 See mtshun mchod in BGT: 2316 bon lugs ltar pha mes kyi dur sar gnas pa’i ’ jig rten gyi lhar sha khrag gtor ba’i mchod pa, also the synonyms mtshun gtor and mtshun ’thor in Chos-bdag: 710-711: pha mes kyi dur sar sha khrag gi mchod pa byas pa, both of which are somewhat different since they involve a mortuary site (dur sa) of some kind. Cf. Jäschke 1881: 456 “meat for the manes [i.e., ancestral ‘souls’] of the dead [...] an offering to the dead” citing the Baidurya sngon po “shi ba’i don du gtor ma gtong ba.” 30 These data were reported in interviews (Tangmachu, March 2012) with Wangchuk Dorji, the hereditary bropön who served in each Tangmachu festival, and who had a set of the rabs manuscripts in his possession. 31 These data were reported in interviews (Bumdeling, December 2012) with Yeshe Peldron (79 yrs.) and Nancha La (76 yrs.), who both attended the last performances of Kaulha during their youth. 32 These data were reported in interviews with the late Ney Dasho Tsering Wangdi (Thimphu, October 2012), his son Chimi Tsering (Lhuntse and Ney, multiple occasions from 2012 to 2014) and Kunzang Namgyal in the company of other Neypa (Ney, March 2012). 33 Cha ‘male servant’ reported by Kurtöp speakers; cf. Hyslop 2017: 231, 351, 424 cha/châ ‘hand’ (Hon.), cha zhu, châ zhuzi ‘assist’, ‘help’ (Hon.), ‘obey’, and CT phyag phyi ‘servant’ (Hon.). 34 All other households at Ney had the premodern classification nang zan, lit. ‘inside eaters’, who were landless dependents of the Ney Chugpo. The origin of the Ney Chugpa lineage is not known, although Aris 1979: 129 identified Ney as the site of a “matrilineal family” associated with the title A-lce. His matrilineal description is unfortunate; what we know of all such families is that, while they practiced uxorilocal marriage and daughter inheritance, descent was still reckoned via ‘bone’ meaning no male ever took the lineage identity of his mother or female ancestor. Ney is a very old village, being visited by Padma Gling-pa in the year 1488. 35 At the time of my field research, similar rites mimicking hunting were still performed at Shawa, while those known from Khoma village and Tabi (formerly Zhamling) ceased with the demise of Srid-pa’i lha worship at the latter sites. 36 See Hyslop et al. In Preparation: 96 for Kurtöp tho-male ‘block, obstruct, curb, bring to a stand still’. 37 This tentative identification was kindly made for me by Henry Noltie, using herbarium specimens at the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh. His note to me pers. comm. 26 February 2013 mentions Hooker’s Flora of British India describing V. serratum with “branches often greatly thickened at their base”, while one F. Kingdon Ward specimen of V. kachinense from Burma mentions swollen water storing tissues and a Malaysian species V. lucidum has swollen stems. 38 The other foodstuffs comprising offerings for Srid-pa’i lha at Ney include boiled rice, cowhide that is singed and boiled, milk and home-brewed alcohol, however eggs, like pork, are restricted items during the festival. 39 For example, a text I once recorded among Changthang pastoralists, the Gsang ba’i bdag pos gnang ba’i dgra lha dpang[s] bstod ces bya ba bzhugs so // (xylograph in 26 fols. paginated 39b-53a within a larger collection, and photographed at Sengkhor, Gertze County, August

40

41 42

43

44

45

46

47

48

2002), was used to obtain hunting luck and other benefits, with the types of g.yang the dgra lha should facilitate access to mentioned as, ‘In the midst of the broad stronghold of the meadows, is the multiplying g.yang of deer and wild ass females and their offspring. Today, bring their g.yang here [to me].’ (spang mkhar yangs pa’i dkyil shed na // sha rkyang ma bu’i ’phel g.yang de // de ring ’di ru g.yang du len //; f. 51a, l. 5-6). A hunting luck chant used by hunters in A-mdo County is as follows, “Summon! The meat g.yang of the whitenaveled ar mo; the meat g.yang of the black-hoofed wild yak bull [of] the clay-slates; [the pattern repeats here for seven further game species], and so on, may I cause to come the combined nine meat g.yangs of phenomenal existence!” (khug cig Ar mo lte dkar gyi sha g.yang / ’brong rdza lham nag gi sha g.yang / [...] sogs srid pa’i sha g.yang dgu sgril khug shog); see Nor-bsam et al. 1999: 102. Duncan 1964: 189 reported on Bathang in the south-western Tibetan Plateau that, “One form of charm is the unusual object which has miraculous power such as a “wishing money bag” which is made of a single musk deer-skin. Such a bag increases money put into it.” Ramble 2015 and literature cited therein, cf. Berounský 2014. These data were reported in interviews conducted throughout 2012, with Yangda (63 yrs) and Khesang (ca. 45 yrs) at Zhamling village, and with Trinley (56 yrs) the former bro dpon of the Tabi Pcha festival, and Ama Singi Zangmo (64 yrs) of the pchami lineage family of Tabi. A variation of the same rite takes place at Ney, across the Kuri Chu river on the west bank, at a site (dogsa) named Wamgi Gyabpa, ‘The Bear’s Back’, on the route from the village up to the sacred grove. Performers dance around in a circle three times mimicking bears, and each time fall down upon their backs as if the ‘bear’ had died. Highly knowledgeable informants who remembered all the chants verbatim, and who were open with all other information about Pcha, refused to perform the Wam thum verses when I requested this. They said to do so outside of the formal ritual context would bring extremely bad luck upon them. For Siberia, see surveys by Hallowell 1926 and Lot-Falck 1953, and for the Himalayas cf. Oppitz 1997: 525-526, n. 7 on beliefs about animal regeneration and the ritual burial of bones of hunted game. I documented the Chiksaybu festival staged at old Rahung village site on 24-25 January 2011. The main Rahungpa clans involved were members of Ngoimu, Siringdo, Nampo, Tsarmu and Thadung, with the chopjido ritual specialist being from the latter clan. Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po is mentioned in seventeenth century gDung origin narratives, as one stage in the itinerary by which the sky ancestral lha (gnam lha) Gu-se Lang-ling descends to earth from the top of the sky, Rgyal rigs: 36b. Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po worship for hunting success involves choosing a site at the forest edge away from the village, and one which points towards the mountain itself. A series of 108 small panshing flags, about twenty-five centimetres in height are made. These are planted into loose soil, in order to form a circular enclosure, and with the tops of each flag angled in towards the centre somewhat. One section of the circle’s perimeter is left open to serve as the ‘gate’. Early in the morning of the following day, the soil within the circle is inspected. If any footprints should be found it means

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Notes to pages 548–558

49 50 51

52 53 54 55

56

Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po will grant game animals to be killed during the hunt. Tob Tarin Tara 2005: 71-72. For examples in a range of such areas, see Strickland 1982, Schrempf 2015, Tandin Dorji 2004, Swancutt 2012 and Hu Chien-Min 1941: 20. The account here is derived from Höfer 1997: 16-24, who states (p. 23) “The Tamang way of celebrating Dasai integrates elements of different origins. Buddhist and probably more ancient tribal elements “built in” adjust – by completing, replacing, correcting or translating – what was and still is “offered” within a Hinduistic framework”. Höfer 1997: 16 n. 29. Höfer 1997: 18. Gros 2012: 380-386, pls. 10-11 between pp. 96-97. On the sky as the ultimate source of potency among the Ao Naga in discussions of ‘feasts of merit’, see Mills 1926: 112, 257, 288, 380, 381 and Kirsch 1973: 7, 13-14, 18. On the layered cosmos and ritual importance of sky beings amongst the Lhota Naga, see Mills 1922: 113-115, 119, 172-173. von Stockhausen 2014: 291 pl.

R efl ect ions I I 1

Citing Old Tibetan documents, Dotson 2008: 46 described the rabs for glud as “healing liturgies”, while Yoeli-Tlalim 2015 described medical uses of glud. 2 A graphic example is the Ha Bon festival of Gortshom reported by Tashi Choden 2004 some four decades after termination of the hereditary lineage of habon, the local type of bon shaman. During my fieldwork at Gortshom in March 2012 and November 2014, I read all original rabs texts in the late habon’s manuscripts and interviewed his grandson and other senior family members to reconstruct an outline of rites and practices during mid-twentieth century Ha Bon festivals. This confirmed past existence of a sophisticated, week-long cult festival at Gortshom comparable in most respects to those I recorded still being staged in Kurtö and Khoma. In the absence of a habon, the Ha Bon festival became led by a Buddhist gomchen practitioner, was greatly reduced in duration and scope, lacked chanting of any principal rabs narratives belonging to the cult, and was bereft of reference to Srid-pa’i lha and their vertical sky world cosmology. In form and substance, recent Ha Bon festivals constitute a complex address to the village territorial deities of the same type one can observe conducted by village lamas or lay Buddhist ritual specialists in many communities without any history of Srid-pa’i lha worship. 3 On grwa pa and bza’ pa dependents, see Ardussi and Karma Ura 2000, Dorji Penjore 2009, Karma Ura 2011 [1995] and Sonam Kinga 2003. 4 Cf. the same observation by Sonam Kinga 2003: 49. 5 See Childs, Craig, Beall and Buddha Basnyat 2014 on Nepal, Thakur and Jain 2014 and Grothmann 2014 on Arunachal Pradesh, and Bose 2000 on the western Himalaya. 6 Pema Tenzin 2012.

640

SOURCE of LIFE REVITALISATION RITES AND BON SHAMANS IN BHUTAN AND THE EASTERN HIMALAYAS

VOLUME II

TONI HUBER

AUSTRIAN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES DENKSCHRIFTEN DER PHILOSOPHISCH-HISTORISCHE KLASSE Band 518 Veröffentlichungen zur Sozialanthropologie Band 24

S OU R C E OF L I F E

Toni Huber

SOU RCE OF L I FE

Revitalisation Rites and Bon Shamans in Bhutan and the Eastern Himalayas VOLUME II

Accepted by the Publication Committee of the Division of Humanities and Social Sciences of the Austrian Academy of Sciences by: Michael Alram, Bert G. Fragner, Andre Gingrich, Hermann Hunger, Sigrid Jalkotzy-Deger, Renate Pillinger, Franz Rainer, Oliver Jens Schmitt, Danuta Shanzer, Peter Wiesinger, Waldemar Zacharasiewicz This publication was subject to international and anonymous peer review. Peer review is an essential part of the Austrian Academy of Sciences Press evaluation process. Before any book can be accepted for publication, it is assessed by international specialists and ultimately must be approved by the Austrian Academy of Sciences Publication Committee. The paper used in this publication is DIN EN ISO 9706 certified and meets the requirements for permanent archiving of written cultural property. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means (graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or information storage and retrieval systems) without written permission from the copyright holder. Copyright © Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna 2020 Layout and typography: Tara Daellenbach, Christchurch (based on a design by Stéphane de Schrevel, Gent) Printed by: Print Alliance, Bad Vöslau Paper: Gardapat 13 Kiara, Font: Arno Pro ISBN 978-3-7001-8269-6 https://epub.oeaw.ac.at/8269-6 https://verlag.oeaw.ac.at Made in Europe Front cover illustration: Offering alcohol to ancestor Namdorzhe using flower stalks during a Lhamoche festival, old Tsango, Khoma valley, east Bhutan, 8 January 2012. Frontispiece: Bon po wearing ritual cloaks before the stone slab altar while inviting ancestral deities down from the sky during a Chisöshe festival, Yewang, West Kameng, 12 December 2011. Published with the support of the German Research Foundation.

Contents



I n t roduct ion

1

v

Com pa r ati v e Sou n di ngs i n t h e A nce st r a l Pa st

5

14. Bons – Alternative Reuses of Older Rites, Myths and Language

7

14.1 Hypothesis – 7 14.2 Nine Divisions in a Rite – 8 14.3 The ’O Remedy – 23 14.4 Mundane Rites in Early g.Yung-drung Bon – 31 14.5 Bons and bons, Plural – 37 15. Old Cosmological and Ritual Precursors of the Srid-pa’i lha Cult

39

15.1 Hypothesis – 39 15.2 rNel dri ’dul ba and its Cultural Background – 40 15.3 Sequences and Cosmological Framing in rNel dri ’dul ba – 43 15.4 Ste’u and Sha slungs Texts – 49 15.5 The sTe’u Rite – 51 15.6 The Sha slungs Rite – 60 15.7 An Old Cycle of Existence in Relation to Regional Cultural History and Ethnography – 69

vii

Source of Life

16. Regional Origins and Spread of the Cult – The Migrant Legacy

85

16.1 Hypothesis – 85 16.2 Sources on Migration – 85 16.3 The Regional Clanscape Revisited – 86 16.4 A Clan Migration Narrative – 88 16.5 The Shar Dung in Southernmost Central Tibet – 116 16.6 Himalayan gDung and the Srid-pa’i lha Cult – 129 16.7 Mapping Ancestry – 143 17. Ancient Roots to the East

149

17.1 Hypothesis – 149 17.2 Comparisons – 149 17.3 Linguistic Traces in Social and Cultural Context – 151 17.4 Comparisons of Ritual Practice – Introduction – 163 17.5 Srid-pa’i lha, Naxi Muân bpò’ and Qiang Paying the Vows Festivals – 166 17.6 Veneration of W hite Rocks – 182 17.7 Deities of the House and Roof – 188 17.8 Material Culture Comparisons – 193 17.9 Conclusions – 213 18. Traces and Gaps Between East and West 18.1 Married Women’s Capes – 215 18.2 Stone Stronghold Towers – 221 18.3 Distributions of Shaman Traits – 223 18.4 Naxi and Qiang Autonyms – 225 18.5 Mon Clan Autonyms of North-East Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor – 226 18.6 Na, Mra and Bai Autonyms of the Upper Subansiri River Gorges – 230 18.7 An Axis of Traces – 237

viii

215

Contents

R e fl ect ions I I I

241

A ppe n dice s

253

A: Register of Worship Communities and Festivals to 2013 – 253 B: Comparisons of Stratified, Vertical Cosmography – 265 C: Dietary Taboos for Bon Shamans and Other Ritual Specialists – 267 D: Written Text, Transcribed Oral Chant, Translation and Facsimile of the Lawa Spos rabs Manuscript – 268 E: Schemes of Auxiliary Beings – 277 F: Tsango Cryptolect Glossary – 280 G: Concordance of Rus Lists in Rgyal rigs Section V, and Present-day Names – 287 H: Concordance of Clan and Lineage Names in the Shar sDe-rang Supplement to Rgyal rigs Section II, and Present-day Names – 289 I: Facsimile of the Bro rabs Narrative from the Thempang 1 Manuscript – 290 J: Evidence of a Common Manuscript Culture and Localisation of the Ste’u and Sha slungs Manuscript – 302 K: Notes, Provisional Vocabulary and Facsimile for the Lha’i gsung rabs Narrative from the Bleiting 2 Manuscript – 315 L: ’O/O Vocabularies for Tibetan, Naxi and Rgyalrongish – 344 M: Facsimile of the Lha rab dang bdud rtsi bcas pa bzhugs so Texts for Sel Rites from the Shawa 1 Manuscript – 346 Not e s

367

R e fer e nce s a n d A bbr e v i at ions

407

Indigenous Manuscripts – 407 Works in Tibetan and Dzongkha – 412 Works in Other Languages – 415 Maps – 447 List of I l lust r at ions a n d Pict u r e Cr e dits

4 49

I n de x

459

Ack now l e dge m e n ts

497

ix

I ntroduction

Throughout the extended eastern Himalayas, there exist a range of shamanic tradition-complexes, as well as various cases of ‘bon’-identified cultural phenomena. The Srid-pa’i lha cult I documented in volume I is a clear and significant case of intersection between Himalayan shamans and a set of rites for achieving mundane goals that their users refer to as bon. I thus defined the cult’s central ritual actor as the bon shaman. To date, there has been little analytical attention paid to such an intersection. Even combining the references bon and shaman has recently been viewed as something of an anathema within Tibetan Studies. However, the cult is not unique in representing such an intersection of cultural patterns. Other discernible examples already signalled in my narrative and notes for volume I include those ritual cultures maintained by the western Tamang bombo in Nepal, the bon ban and pawo among the Lhopo of Sikkim, and the Naxi dtômbà of north-west Yunnan. Investigating the origins and nature of such crossovers between shamans and bon along the eastern Himalayas is my point of departure for this second volume. It will serve to articulate my ethnography of the Srid-pa’i lha cult with larger contexts of space and time. The five chapters in this volume explore possible ways in which the contemporary Srid-pa’i lha cult came into existence. I also investigate the identities of those agents most likely involved in developing and transmitting the cult, as well as their older ancestral roots. My reading of the evidence distinguishes two different cultural strata within Srid-pa’i lha worship that became entangled over time. These strata are associated respectively with two sets of social identities representing different ancestral communities and carriers of traditions. One cultural stratum is more closely articulated with very old ‘bon’-identified and formal

rabs narratives we know of from southernmost Central Tibet, and also more distantly from the southern Silk Road beyond the far north-eastern Tibetan Plateau. This stratum overlaps historically and geographically with a population from the lHo-brag region who were collectively known to the Tibetans as the Shar Dung or ‘Eastern Dung’. The other stratum is the basis for an eastern Himalayan cultural pattern I described in the first volume as ‘ancestor propitiation for revitalisation of descent groups’. Its carriers have been those I provisionally identify as the Mon clans, for want of a more convenient name at this time. This generic Mon clans label refers to descent groups who would have already been settled in my Himalayan research region prior to the midfourteenth century arrival there of Shar Dung migrants from the north. Many details about the Mon clans are presently beyond the reach of our sources. This older population cannot be easily identified with any one ethnic identity or with speakers of a single language or linguistic grouping during the present day. Glimpses of the Mon clans can only be discerned in certain older social identities and cultural patterns in my Himalayan research region, those that appear to lack any strong Tibetan Plateau heritage. The Mon clans label has already been introduced by other scholars when discussing those Himalayan highland regions directly adjacent to southernmost Central Tibet, and along the mountain chain as far as the area around the gorges of the gTsang-po River (i.e., Brahmaputra River). 1 Tibetan Plateau peoples have applied the label Mon to this region for more than a millennium, and it is geographically coherent in terms of references found in Old Tibetan documents.2 Part V in this second volume is set out as a series of hypotheses I pose about the issues just mentioned, with

1

Source of Life

presentations of evidence in support of them. Chapters 14 and 15 deal with hypotheses related to the stratum of more formal, ‘bon’-identified rites and ritual antecedent narratives found within the cult. They demonstrate that this material represents a separate phenomenon from the Tibetan g.Yung-drung Bon salvation religion. Variations of such rites and narratives existed in southernmost Central Tibet around a millennium before present, and still exist today within the Srid-pa’i lha cult in contiguous Himalayan valleys to the south. Chapter 16 identifies migrant clans of the Shar Dung population from lHo-brag and its environs as the agents who transmitted ‘bon’-identified material into the Himalayan valleys where the cult exists today. The chapter also attempts to isolate likely social identities, such as clan, lineage or ethnic names, for both the Shar Dung and the Mon clans. Together with parts of chapter 16, in chapters 17 and 18 I present hypotheses and evidence that the cult’s other stratum of ‘ancestor propitiation for revitalisation of descent groups’ is closely related to the presence of Mon clans in areas where the East Bodish languages Dakpa, Dzala and Kurtöp are currently spoken within the research area. I show that many cognate cultural patterns and practices of these peoples are shared with Qiang and Naxi populations far to the east, and that they indicate all such groups must have had some common ethnolinguistic ancestors during the distant past. A major promise of this study lies in gaining unprecedented insights into the cultural history of one example of a Himalayan highland shamanic tradition-complex. To my present knowledge, no such cultural history of any shamans or bon phenomenon along the entire Himalayan chain has so far been attempted. There are good grounds for this lacuna in the scholarship, yet there are also compelling reasons why such a study can be attempted in the case of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Unlike other Himalayan shaman traditions, the cult and the region in which it exists provide us with an unprecedented corpus of written local documents for analysis. These include not only bon shaman manuscripts with ritual texts and origin narratives, but also some very old texts recording mundane rites and early historical sources from southernmost Central Tibet directly adjacent to the

2

research region. As part of my analysis of these older written sources, I have employed extensive and detailed comparisons of ethnographic data from certain areas of the extended eastern Himalayas. While some unique resources are available for the task at hand, the goals I set for part V are also highly challenging in the current research environment. Unlike the Tibetan Plateau immediately to the north, the region encompassing eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor supplies almost no dependable, indigenous historical documents – meaning dateable, philologically stable sources for which independent witnesses are available – to inform us about the past beyond three or four centuries. Even the very limited available record is woefully incomplete. One must remain realistic and honest about what can be achieved when looking back through time as I am attempting to do. My analysis in the chapters to follow has often produced evidence that is best described as indicative, rather than established fact. For this reason, I consider my approach in this second volume as being fundamentally explorative. I am taking ‘soundings’ into the deep past using my hypotheses and evidence. One of my goals is to develop the study of ‘bon’-identified cultural phenomena much further beyond current scholarly approaches, which have so far relied heavily upon both old texts of unknown origins and religious literature. My own method is largely based upon comparative use of empirical data sets. These include ethnographic accounts, linguistic records, studies of material culture, older manuscripts of known provenance and sometimes age, and more exceptionally oral narratives. My approach assumes that contemporary oral narratives or undated written ones alone cannot support historical claims that extend very far back into the past, just as a variety of possible linguistic roots can be proposed for any single word. In the comparisons made throughout part V, I strive to nest such units of information within dense concentrations of different types of correlative data, and thereby contextualise them culturally and socially as thoroughly as possible. Such comparative explorations of the past using cultural and linguistic materials to probe beyond the horizons of reliable historical documentation are commonplace nowadays. Phylogenetic analysis of narrative

Introduction

types,3 linguistic archaeology, 4 diachronic comparison of toponyms,5 or archaeological interpretation using ethnographic data sets6 are all typical examples of such methods currently being employed by other scholars to a similar end. My reliance upon empirical data is also coordinated with a general eschewal of resort to religiously inspired historiographical and hagiographical narratives recorded in Classical Tibetan language, and readings of myth narratives preserved in Old Tibetan manuscripts for which we currently lack any sophisticated textual and contextual interrogation. These sources have long served as the stock-in-trade of other scholars who have attempted to look back at the possible pasts of ‘bon’-identified cultural phenomena. One reason I avoid them is simply to attempt a different approach and bring new types of regionally focused evidence and analysis into play. Another reason is that an accumulation of recent research advances has yielded significant reassessment of the nature of such Tibetan language narratives and their value as evidence. Many previous certainties are now largely redundant. For example, the Old Tibetan catalogues of ‘minor kingdoms’ or ‘petty kings’ (rgyal phran), once unequivocally treated as historical documents, are best understood in their original context as a flexible storytelling technique.7 Similarly, many religious ‘treasure texts’ (gter ma) of Tibetan Buddhism and g.Yung-drung Bon that contain representations of the pre-eleventh century past are now viewed by scholars as cultural vehicles for projecting the “imaginal persistence of the Empire” rather than as robust sources for history.8 Moreover, even the best attempts to gain very basic provenance information on texts that are of central importance to the g.Yung-drung Bon religion have only revealed a situation that is “hopelessly entangled and remains obscure”.9 Another on-going concern about sources related to the development of g.Yung-drung Bon is the questionable methodology for establishing what have become commonly cited dates for that religion’s foundation period. 10 More critical and realistic assessments of the aforementioned sources do not mean they cannot be used. However, their utility as evidence is far lower or quite different from what most scholars had previously entertained until recently. Moreover, use of such sources can only follow their interrogation using intensive philological,

critical-historical and narratological studies, as well as possible material culture investigations of the physical manuscripts involved. Problematic issues also attend the alternative textual sources I often resort to in this volume, and I cannot resolve them all herein. However, to eliminate at least one major layer of uncertainty regarding the provenance of the most crucial sources, my use of manuscripts has been limited to those we can be certain were produced within the geographical zone under study and, for a few cases, around its immediate margin regions as well. If we imagine this zone as a circle approximately 100 kilometres in diameter, it encompasses eastern Bhutan, and much of the Mon-yul Corridor, as well as the directly adjacent regions of southernmost Central Tibet including lHo-brag, gTam-shul, Grul-shul and Mon mTsho-sna. Documents from within and around this zone are what I will rely upon for key points of interpretation.

3

Pa rt V

Com pa r ati v e Sou n dings in th e A ncestr a l Pa st

14.

Bons – A lter nati v e R euses of Older R ites, My ths a n d L a nguage

14.1 Hypothesis The Srid-pa’i lha cult dedicated to mundane goals and maintained by a range of local, autonomous bon shamans for the benefit of their own communities is neither a survival of any “ancient” and ostensibly “original” “Bon religion”, nor an epiphenomenon of the salvation religion calling itself g.Yung-drung Bon. Rather, the earlier agents who developed the cult were inheritors of non-Buddhist/non-Indic rites and narratives first evident in Old Tibetan and early Classical Tibetan manuscripts dating both prior to, and shortly after, an eleventh century watershed period. They combined this inheritance with other cultural materials and developed the cult along its own trajectories as they saw fit. Recent critical scholarship on the emergence of g.Yungdrung Bon now demonstrates the above process generally applies to the development of that religion as well. The key difference is that the founding agents of g.Yung-drung Bon very selectively combined, as well as transformed, portions of the same older inheritance of narratives and rites with an enormous bulk of Buddhist/Indic cultural materials, models and institutional forms, and subsequently followed a very different trajectory to create a salvation religion similar to Tibetan Buddhism in almost every respect. 1 Thus, there is no basis to claim any single and continuous “Bon tradition” spanning the eleventh century watershed period. There have long been, and still are, different Bons or bons, plural, which need to be carefully distinguished. The types of data available to me allow three kinds of comparative exercises for demonstrating the hypothesis in this chapter:

1. Investigating whether any central aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult that do not necessarily originate in the g.Yungdrung Bon religion have historically verifiable depth. This exercise is conducted below for the bon la le’u dgu scheme for organising rites within the cult. The exercise is extended for other aspects of the cult in chapter 15, with a content analysis of rites for mundane goals recorded in unique eleventh or twelfth century manuscripts, including those discovered at the dGa'-thang shrine in southernmost Tibet. 2. Comparison of content from ritual texts used in the cult with narratives and rites preserved in Old Tibetan and early Classical Tibetan documents. The results can then be compared again with any parallel material or references preserved in g.Yung-drung Bon to see exactly what continuities and differences exist. Four brief exercises of this type were already undertaken in parts II and IV of the first volume. They included consideration of tshan origin narratives (ch. 4), representations of the bat as a messenger and of the gshen ritual specialists Ya-ngal Gyim-kong and gShen-rab Mi-bo (ch. 4), and glud rabs narratives featuring a hunted stag (ch. 10). I repeat this type of exercise below on a more comprehensive scale by examining a narrative and rite complex termed ’o gnyen using references to it that exist in the Old Tibetan corpus, in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and in g.Yung-drung Bon sources. 3. Comparison of what categories of rites both the cult and g.Yung-drung Bon have preserved from the possible pool of older cultural materials, observing where they overlap and where they do not. Below I brief ly compare the Phya-gshen and sNang-gshen sections of the bon theg pa rim dgu scheme from g.Yung-drung Bon with what is present in the Srid-pa’i lha cult.

7

Source of Life

Historical Context Before conducting the three kinds of comparative exercises just described, it is germane to briefly summarise what is currently known of any possible proximity and contacts between the Srid-pa’i lha cult and the g.Yung-drung Bon salvation religion. In parts II-IV of the first volume, I continually traced text passages, mythic identities and narrative motifs, types of rites and technical terminology, ritual specialist identities, and material culture items occurring in the Sridpa’i lha cult back to their closest and oldest known parallels along the extended eastern Himalayas and on the Tibetan Plateau. Virtually every one of those tracings revealed no necessary connection with organised g.Yung-drung Bon. Rather telling in this line-up is the fact that the body of older texts recording material we can philologically connect with later rabs used in Srid-pa’i lha rites are not g.Yung-drung Bon compositions. In fact, they mostly have anonymous or Buddhist author/compilers, albeit that other commentators have often allotted them to some unspecified ‘Bon tradition’. Furthermore, it can be observed that the Srid-pa’i lha cult completely lacks reference to religious ‘treasure texts’ (gter ma) and ‘treasure revealers’ (gter ston) of any ilk. This is highly significant. The religious treasure literature and its ostensible discoverers have remained the fundamental form of legitimation for g.Yung-drung Bon as a unique religion from its earliest traceable period of formation. What can we say concerning the past presence of g.Yungdrung Bon within the research region and neighbouring parts of the Tibetan Plateau? There is no trace of the historical or contemporary existence of institutionalised g.Yungdrung Bon within the research region itself. To the east, in Arunachal Pradesh, g.Yung-drung Bon has never been recorded at any Himalayan highland sites. In western central Bhutan, Samten Karmay documented one minor religious foundation that has been defunct as an active g.Yung-drung Bon site for an unknown period.2 He considered this isolated foundation to be the work of a single migrant lama from Tibet who was active during the second half of the thirteenth century. Although this foundation itself is insignificant, as mentioned in chapter 4 the non-sectarian treasure revealer rDo-rje Gling-pa was associated with it. That lama

8

and his followers may well have been the source of the only traces of g.Yung-drung Bon found within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, albeit that those traces are best described as creative representations derived from the religion. For the far west of Bhutan, there are also various notices of early activity by g.Yung-drung Bon treasure revealers in the Paro valley, ostensibly during the eleventh to thirteenth century period.3 However, most such notices need to be treated with due caution, if not scepticism. The sources in which they most often occur, along with those from which dates for the treasure revealers concerned have frequently been derived, were themselves only composed between the late eighteenth and early twentieth centuries, some 600-800 years distant from events and individuals they purport to document. To my present knowledge, only one source providing a robust independent witness for a figure appearing in such notices about the far west of Bhutan is so far known, and that concerns the person of Khu-tsha Zla-’od.4 The area immediately north of the research region, namely lHo-brag and its wider surroundings in southern Tibet, invariably appears as a conspicuous blank whenever g.Yungdrung Bon’s distribution and significant reference points have been surveyed and mapped in scholarly publications.5 The only available indicators of the religion’s presence there comprise yet more unverifiable notices of early activity by treasure revealers in lHo-brag and its northern environs, ostensibly during the eleventh century. Although most such notices derive from the same body of historically recent sources available for western Bhutan, the potential significance of one or two are of some interest in the present context. I will return to discuss one such example, the discovery narrative of the Shel brag ma ‘revealed treasure’ of Nyang-stod, at the end of this chapter.

14.2 Nine Divisions in a Rite In the ritual language of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the most formal expression for the practices of a bon shaman is bon la le’u dgu or ‘nine divisions in a rite’. This occurs mainly in ritual texts chanted in the three parallel river valleys of the Kuri Chu between Metsho Gewog and Kurtö, the Khoma Chu

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

and the Kholong Chu around Bumdeling, where the most sophisticated textual culture of bon shamans exists. In the Tibetan language that has been used for centuries in this zone of the Himalayas, the word le’u simply means ‘division’ or ‘part’, and also ‘chapter’ referring to the contents of a text. However, in the context of the cult le’u occurs as a technical term with a more specialised meaning in self-styled ‘ritual antecedent narratives’ (rabs). This meaning is much older, and since it has usually been overlooked, it is well to give some examples here.

the ‘initiator’ ritual specialist gshen Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, who also features centrally in rnel dri ’dul ba rites from dGa’-thang manuscripts. The narrative is introduced in this manner:

In both Srid-pa’i lha texts and early rabs composed in Old Tibetan, le’u means more than just a mere ‘chapter’ of text; it defines a unit of ritual activity as part of a sequence that together constitute a ‘rite’ (bon). It is something a specialist does, but also creates or actualises, in terms of the oral recitation of a ritual text. For example, in the Old Tibetan document IOL Tib J 731, in the final lines of a rabs, and immediately before the start of a following rabs, it states, ‘[This] spoken method is the le’u of the pha [ritual specialist]; others should learn it. Here a small outline has been written’.6 Other early examples of le’u occur in the dGa’-thang manuscripts, in which the terms rabs and le’u are synonymous. One antecedent narrative in the series is introduced with the words ‘In a rnel dri rabs...’ while the following narrative starts with ‘Again, in a le’u of rnel dri...’ 7 This latter narrative ends with citation of the composer of the rite, ‘The le’u of Gar-rgos-pa is completed.’8 In one section of the dGa’-thang Byol rabs, the rise of demons named ‘Bad Omen King’ (ltas ngan gyi rgyal po) and bDud are described with a type of ‘ransom’ (glud) rite necessary to ‘avert’ (byol) them. The opening line of the text states, ‘In the le’u of the byol po snying glud, and the expansion of lTas-ngan and the bDud... [after which begins the mythical prelude of the rabs]’.9

Ya-ngal then recites the new narratives. In still other contexts, the word le’u defines a ‘rite’ that must be performed. A rabs narrating a rite termed ’o gnyen or the ‘’o remedy’ to be discussed below states how this rite must be done for the afflicted deity Yab-lha Dal-drug up in the sky:

Thus, usage of le’u appears somewhat equivalent to rabs and bon ‘rites’. It announces the commencement and closure of an existing rite, and it is the first and/or last thing a ritual specialist refers to in his chants during a performance. Moreover, le’u can also mark the production of a new unit of rites. In a Sel rabs manuscript setting out the origins and techniques for a ‘great elimination’ (sel chen) ritual, and one still used today in the Khoma Chu valley, the sub-rabs series is narrated by

Elder brother Ya-ngal said, ‘The nine le’u for cleansing elimination Combined as parts of Great Elimination [rites] do not exist. [I] will now sing/compose the nine le’u for cleansing elimination.’10

The lord Yab-lha Dal-drug Is encircled by a retinue of one hundred thousand powerful lha. Administer an ’o remedy rite (le’u) to them.11 Thus, le’u in all these contexts cannot be understood apart from ritual action. It is hardly surprising that in much later historiographical narratives, we find reference to a type of ritual performer termed le’u bon po representing the older ritual specialists ostensibly banished at the time of Buddhist persecutions. In one ethnographic instance, ritual specialists designated le’u or le’u pa who are focussed upon rites for mundane goals have recently become known from the far eastern Tibetan Plateau periphery.12 The le’u pa usage parallels the older designation bon po for a specialist who performs bon meaning ‘rites’. In other mundane rites for annual revitalisation practiced within the research region, le’u also has the meanings mentioned above. Elsewhere, I have documented a naked, masked male performer termed kengpa who gestures with a wooden phallus and enacts a complex mimic sequence of all the steps required to clear swidden fields, grow millet and process it as far as the cooking pot. The performance is always silent. The kengpa does each action according to a memorised and mentally chanted narrative comprised of

9

Source of Life

a set number of twenty or more le’u, with each le’u defining a specific action in the overall sequence.13 Thus, le’u defines ‘divisions’ of ritual activity comprising a rite, in terms of either chanting or manual and bodily techniques, or both together. It does not refer to ‘book chapters’. To my present knowledge, the oldest dateable elaboration of the bon la le’u dgu scheme occurs in a text passage composed in southernmost Central Tibet during the 1400s, although its content was no doubt older at the time it was recorded. It is found in the section on ‘Bon teachings’ within the Bshad mdzod ‘encyclopaedia’. As I discussed in chapter 4, this work was written by an author from Gru-shul in southernmost Central Tibet, an area immediately north of and adjacent to a range of Srid-pa’i lha cult sites. Gru-shul highly likely belongs to the region of proximate origins of the cult in Tibet, being directly adjacent to gTam-shul at which the dGa’thang manuscripts were found, and it was without doubt a part of Shar Dung territory prior to the 1400s (see ch. 16). A nearly verbatim but abbreviated extract from this same Bshad mdzod passage on bon la le’u dgu also occurs in the old – but undated – Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel ritual manual, and this will be compared below.14 As I demonstrated in chapter 7, this latter manuscript simply describes a sequence of narratives and rites used within the Srid-pa’i lha cult at some time probably centuries ago, and is very close in content to cult festivals performed in the upper Kuri Chu valley area. We might safely assume that it, too, originated in the general region of far north-east Bhutan or south-eastern lHo-brag. Furthermore, the same text passage on the bon la le’u dgu in these two much older sources also occurs incorporated almost verbatim into various ritual antecedent narratives that are still chanted by bon shamans during Srid-pa’i lha rites today. An example is translated in full below. In translations of the main text samples of bon la le’u dgu passages to follow, I number lines rather than giving folios numbers for convenience during the discussion.

Nine Divisions in the Bshad mdzod As noted in chapter 4, the short introduction in the Bshad mdzod to what its author described as the ‘teachings’

10

(bstan) of g.Yu-rung Bon 15 is an impartial and somewhat unique presentation. As such, it differs from many parallel accounts found in other works of Tibetan Buddhist provenance. It probably reflects the influences of rDo-rje Gling-pa who was active in lHo-brag around a century or less prior to the composition of the Bshad mdzod, while the text’s author himself hailed from immediately adjacent Gru-shul. Beyond these details, the short introduction to so-called g.Yu-rung Bon in the Bshad mdzod is highly interesting in relation to the cult of Srid-pa’i lha. The name g.Yurung Bon literally means ‘Suitable Turquoise Bon’, and is by no means a casual scribal error for g.Yung-drung Bon. It occurs consistently throughout Bshad mdzod manuscripts and, as we will see in chapter 16, g.Yu-rung Bon is also commonly found in bon shaman ritual texts, as it is, too, in shaman chants from highland Nepal. The name very likely alludes to the popular status and function of the ‘turquoise’ (g.yu) stone, which serves as a ritual device forming a protective environment or seat for a person’s mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’.16 Thus, the name’s literal meaning is most appropriate to designate rites for mundane goals. g.Yu-rung Bon is yet one more bon-suffixed designation among a variety of such names populating the traditional literary texts and ethnographic records of Tibetan and Himalayan religious and ritual systems. The Classical Tibetan designations of this kind include ’khyar bon, rgyu’i bon, [’]dur bon, [b]rdol bon, g.yung drung bon, srid pa[’i] rgyud bon, and so forth. g.Yu-rung Bon is not only a localised designation we know of from texts and practice in both southernmost Tibetan areas and in my immediately adjacent Himalayan research region. It is also part of the bombo shaman traditions amongst both the western Tamang and Yolmowa populations of Nepal’s central highlands. In those contexts, Yurung Bon refers to a ‘primordial shaman’ (Tamang: phamo) identity, and one that can represent the personal and ‘lineage tutelary’ (Tamang: gyúppa phamo) of a bombo. The Yurung Bon are ordered to cardinal directions, with one case of north recorded from a bombo in Yolmo, and east and south known among the western Tamang bombo. 17 In chapter five, I demonstrated that systems of shaman lineage transmission for bombo and bon shamans are more or less identical, while other aspects of western Tamang ritual culture are closely cognate with the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Thus,

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

g.Yu-rung/Yurung Bon is very likely a further indicator of some older continuity between these geographically distant shamanic tradition complexes far back in the past. The Bshad mdzod author’s presentation of g.Yu-rung Bon differs markedly from mainstream or orthodox Tibetan presentations of g.Yung-drung Bon, such as the nine and twelve-point schematised overviews already long-established in that religion’s earlier self-presentations.18 Rather, he distinguished ‘five types’ (rnam pa lnga) of Bon, which is a somewhat novel interpretation. 19 However, only one among these five types, named sNang-gshen Bon, is actually described in the Bshad mdzod account. Based upon that description, it is clear the author is referring at times to only some aspects of the well-known sNang-gshen theg pa sections of older g.Yung-drung Bon theg pa rim dgu or ‘nine ways’ schemes, together with some unique material he adds, all of which is rounded off with a few gestures to soteriological language at the end of his summary. There then follows a short periodisation of Bon, the framework for which is already established in earlier historiographical works. Next is an enumeration of the ‘seven types of capabilities for a bon’ (bon la yon tan rnam pa bdun). This lists five (not seven) skills of an accomplished ritual specialist designated as a pha. The text is obscure in part, but a possible reading is as follows:

information they might be considered in relation to. The bon specialist here is titled pha. If read conventionally in this context as ‘father’, and understood to be himself a ‘son (bu) of a pha bon’, the language strongly suggests hereditary transmission via patrilineal descent from an apical pha bon ancestor who is an archetypal ritual specialist. This is the same cultural pattern discussed in chapter 5 that underpins the status and identity of bon shamans. We often find the pha and bu designations referring to hereditary bon shamans in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, particularly in its older manuscripts and narratives. Such references are unique and localised in southernmost Central Tibet. For instance, one passage explaining origins in the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative translated in chapter 16 describes the three key aspects (lha, bon and bu) of a cult practiced by the first human beings in these terms: They have a lha; it is the gshen lha. They have a bon; it is the gshen bon. They have a bu; it is the gshen bu.

The pha that flies to and fro in the sky [is] a bu of a pha bon. The pha that pierces a hole into a hill [is] a bu of a pha bon. The pha that swims like a fish in water [is] a bu of a pha bon. The pha that connects his body parts to stone [is] a bu of a pha bon. The pha that brings down one’s needs and desires like rain [is] a bu of a pha bon. Those are the bon’s capabilities. If explained at length, there will be no end to them.20

The bon who is a gshen bon here can have the double meaning of ‘ritual specialist’ and the auxiliary being(s) such a practitioner utilises, while bu means either a ‘ritual specialist’ or the ‘ritual assistant’ to one. In these above passages, bu could be read literally as ‘son’ referring to a hereditary ritual specialist within a transmission lineage. The form gshen bu in the second passage is very rare and appears to be localised in southernmost Tibet. The oldest occurrence of it known to me occurs as either a proper name component or title for a type of ritual specialist that is also found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. This is the ’tshe mi (or mtshe mi) with the identity of gShen-bu rGyal-tsha. The record is preserved in the late twelfth century Nyang ral chos ’byung.21 The author of this work lived most of his life at gTam-shul, discovery area of the dGa’-thang manuscripts, and was active right on the border of proto-Bhutan at Kho-mthing a short walk away from the northernmost sites of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in Kurtö and Khoma.

I have intentionally not translated the pha and bu terms in this passage. There are different ways they can be understood, as well as several layers of linguistic and cultural

In addition to reading pha and bu as conventional kin terms, there may well be another level of linguistic and cultural reference in both terms as they occur in all these older

11

Source of Life

and cognate cultural sources connected with bon and gshen from the same geographical zone of southernmost Central Tibet. Pha and bu may represent older category terms related specifically to certain types of ritual specialists that occur in a range of regional Tibeto-Burman languages, but without necessarily having any overt kinship meanings. Some examples of this follow. The term pha (rarely also pa and pha ba) by itself often occurs alongside bon and gshen in lists of designations in some local narratives from the Srid-pa’i lha cult, indicating that pha generically refers to a class or type of ritual specialist. This usage also appears attested in Old Tibetan documents. For example, in the document IOL Tib J 734 we read of pha in a ninefold list of ritual specialists and the auxiliaries or deities they work with, including pha, bon, lha, gsas, rje and gar. 22 In chapter 7, I also cited a range of different Old Tibetan formulations related to use of oral spells in which pha is used equivalent to gshen, while in the same formulations as they occur in dGa’-thang manuscripts both the forms pa and pha are used equivalent to bon, and elsewhere dri bon and pha are interchanged. 23 Additionally, a wide variety of ritual specialist proper names in both Old Tibetan and dGa’-thang manuscripts receive the prefixed title pha. This is so to the extent that, besides literally meaning ‘father’, it also serves as a category term for this type of specialist role. Since the term is old and widespread, consideration of its origins gives rise to interesting questions. One possibility is a borrowing from the southern Silk Road cultures occupied by the imperial Tibetans. This might explain both pa/ pha and bu terms as they occur in Old Tibetan ritual texts composed and found in that same region, as well as in the older texts from southernmost Tibetan Plateau areas we can prove are partly derived from these Old Tibetan precursors (see ch. 15).24 We also find cognate ‘ritual specialist’ terms in a wide range of Tibeto-Burman languages spoken by highland societies in which Himalayan shamans can be comparatively identified. For example, further west there are paju, pa-chyu or pajyu terms in Gurung/Tamu, phamo for ancestors of the western Tamang bombo, the Limbu phɔqja, a complex of ba- words related to shamans and their powers in Chepang, the Tibetanised phajo (CT pha jo) in Bhutan and southern Tibet, and the phabi of the Bugun in

12

the southern Mon-yul Corridor. Farther to the east, there is Namuyi pha⁵⁴tsə⁵⁴, 25 the Naxi dtô-mbà term pa (p’à in Joseph Rock’s transcription) that is only preserved in pictographic manuscripts, and the cognate Yongning Na (i.e., Mosuo) pa [daba]. In the same manner, bu in the types of Tibetan language texts we are dealing with may also represent a linguistic survival of older and more widespread names. This especially concerns those containing bi, bu (and pu), bo and bon elements which designate a spectrum of shamans and related ritual specialists found among highland societies speaking Tibeto-Burman languages along the extended eastern Himalayas and the far eastern margins of the Tibetan Plateau. For example, male shamans are termed bi, bimu or bimo (i.e., pí and pí mo), bibo and bito by the Qiang, and bimo and bidze (i.e., pi³³ mo³⁴ and pi³⁴ ʥɛ ³³) by the Nuosu (i.e., Yi), bu or bubbu (bpô or bpô-mbò’ in Rock’s transcription) by the Naxi, as well as pu [daba] by the Moso. 26 In parts of Arunachal Pradesh where Tani languages are spoken adjacent to the research region, shaman titles include nyibu/nyibo with the separate term bu/bo (also boo) designating their ‘co-chanting’ assistants who function as echo-singers repeating the shaman’s words during rites. It is of interest that Naxi bu as in bubbu means ‘to chant’, and one can recall here Tibetan ’bod ‘to call out aloud’. In the case of Naxi bubbu, which is a term often described as an indigenous cognate of Tibetan bon po, it is worth noting that this is the old term found in the dtômbà manuscripts, while the term dtô-mbà itself appears to be a later innovation. In addition to both bu and gshen bu use within the Srid-pa’i lha cult and documents from lHobrag cited above, the same bu usage has survived widely in the designation lha’i bu for ritual performers who are subshamans and assistants to the bon shaman, and in which an older bu term may have been subjected to a folk etymology. Given the above evidence, it would be premature to accept that pha and bu in the contexts we are discussing are simply Tibetan kinship terms. Returning to the Bshad mdzod, the list of ‘seven types of capabilities for a bon’ referring to the pha and bu in the passage above enumerates the typical powers attributed to primordial shamans in Himalayan myths. The motif in the cited passage of a pha flying through the air and bringing

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

down positive benefits for life from above evokes the ability to undertake a ‘soul journey’ to the sky, so that vitality will descend for ritual sponsors, exactly as the bon shaman does during his rites. In fact, much older and very ‘local’ mythical precedents for both pha and gshen ritual specialists who fly through the sky already occur in the dGa’-thang manuscripts from gTam-shul directly adjacent to Gru-shul where the Bshad mdzod was composed. In those older documents recording mundane rites, one of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs narratives features the gNubs gshen Rum-po who flew through the sky during a rite. 27 In the Byol rabs narratives from this collection of documents, the pha gShen-rab Myibo and his ritual specialist colleague sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras must recruit a third specialist, the pha Mus-dpal Phrog-rol, to fly down from the sky for assistance while performing a rite.28 Indeed, this imagery also strongly recalls the contemporary bon shaman more than any other type of specialist we know of from the wider region. All such references that we can date and locate back to the same area of southernmost Central Tibet, demonstrate without any doubt that the Bshad mdzod’s author was describing an already existing tradition of myth and practice for autonomous ritual specialists dedicated to mundane rites from his own native region and its environs.

1

5

10

15

20

The next section in the Bshad mdzod account of g.Yu-rung Bon presents a nine-point cameo biography of the ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo in nine verse lines, which is titled Bon ka ba dgu skor. The details in this minimal life account are purely mundane, listing only gShen-rab’s own name along with the names of his birthplace, palace, ancestral shrine, father, mother, wife, son and daughter. Immediately following this secular cameo biography, the final section of the author’s explanation of ‘Bon’ commences abruptly in a passage describing the ‘nine divisions’ (le’u dgu) of a rite. Its beginning is signalled by the initial vocative Kye!, as if it recorded an oral chant used for a rite. By comparison with other passages below concerning the ‘nine divisions’ (le’u dgu) of a rite, obviously this is exactly what the Bshad mdzod passage represents, namely the author’s record of a ritual text that is intended for chanting. This section rhetorically sets out a series of ritual concerns and steps, ending with a summary of ‘nine divisions’ (le’u dgu):

Kye! If both sun and moon did not exist, Who would hold up a shining lamp? If both the pha and the bon do not arise, Who can expect protection for human beings? If lha and the gsas do not arise, Who can expect defence [against] the force of death? If bad news is not sent to the lha, Who could elicit the invitation of lha and gsas? If a mat is not laid out for the lha, Where would the dwelling place of the lha be established? If power is not entrusted to gsas, [What would be] the place of enclosure for ’dre and srin driven [by] gsas brothers?29 If the lha are not arrayed on the [ritual specialist’s] body, How could the empowerment of body and speech be bestowed? If the single points of lha and gsas [weapons] are not sharpened, How will attacks by ’dre and srin be repulsed? If a gift is not presented to the lha, How can gratitude be shown? If the Srid-pa’i lha genealogy is not expounded, Who will take hold of the rMu cord of human beings? The gnam sa [offering], manifesting gshen, and the ’o gnyen, the three. The Ya-ngal, the tshan [bon] and the ’gal [bon] rabs, the three. sDig stod, suppressing the dgra and the phung sri, [the three]. The above account30 is of the nine divisions [in a rite].31

Barring one or two obscure points in the language, here we have an almost verbatim description from the 1400s of the same basic rite scheme still performed by bon shamans within the northern zone of the research region today, some six centuries later. Of importance are the series of nine verbs (bzhengs, btang, ’dren, gting, bskur, skod, rdar, phul and bshad) set in an interrogative or negative mode that occur between lines 5-19 in the passage. These nine verbs successively introduce the nine key phases of chants

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Source of Life

and ritual actions (le’u) that must be performed in relation to the deities. The sequence of nine verbs represents an ideal procedure for undertaking the nine units of ritual action, and I will return to investigate it below. Following this ninefold scheme of actions, lines 21-24 in the passage give a condensed enumeration of ‘nine divisions’ (le’u dgu) of rites and ritual concerns grouped into three sets of three, and all of which are used in the cult throughout its northern zone of distribution closest to lHo-brag and Gru-shul. Following the same sequence as lines 21-24, the nine include: 1. A rite called gnam sa mchod pa first known from procedures involving Ya-ngal Gyim-kong in the dGa’-thang manuscripts (see ch. 15), and used in the cult still in the Kuri Chu valley of north-east Bhutan. 2. Invocation of the bon shaman’s gshen auxiliaries (see ch. 7). 3. The ’o gnyen rite occurring in the cult (see 14.3 ‘The ’O Remedy’ below). 4-6. A listing of three ritual antecedent narratives (rabs) for sel ‘elimination’ rites still used in the cult, and in which the three brothers named Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, tshan bon Thor-cog and ’gal bon Kha-nag are the primordial initiators (see ch. 4). 7. The sdig stod rite which occurs together with ’o gnyen in the cult (see 14.3 ‘The ’O Remedy’ below). 8-9. Two rites for suppressing spirits harmful to human vitality (dgra and sri here), which remain an aspect of Srid-pa’i lha cult practice today (see ch. 9). When compared with the following two passages cited from Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts, this Bshad mdzod account of ‘nine divisions’ demonstrates that the basic ritual format and content of the cult already existed within the immediately neighbouring Tibetan Plateau region during the 1400s. However, it must have been older than that in some established form at the time it was recorded by the Bshad mdzod’s author. This is merely underscored by the fact that this material occurs together with the author’s presentation of g.Yu-rung Bon, a presentation strongly weighted in favour of the culture of autonomous

14

‘shamanic’-type ritual specialists termed pha, bu and bon and their performance of mundane rites.

Nine Divisions in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel The ‘nine divisions in a rite’ are also referred to at different stages within the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript, the text of which I introduced and translated sections from in chapter 7. The text concerns worship of clan ancestor deities, and covers ‘elimination’ (sel) rites, a guided enticement itinerary for the lha to descend, and offering (mchod) rites to them. The age of this anonymous ritual manual remains unknown. Samten Karmay, who located and fortunately published the document, states it is of “ancient origin”, although one can note its language is conventional Classical Tibetan with virtually no archaisms. The Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel represents the only ritual text for the Srid-pa’i lha cult to have been found beyond the research region. It is practically identical to texts used in the northern valleys of north-east Bhutan. Judging by its content and structure, it might well have been composed in Kurtö, or adjacent areas just upstream on the Kuri Chu, such as the twin mKho and mThing sub-districts of southernmost lHo-brag. However, the manuscript contains a feature that other local texts virtually never possess (cf. ch. 16), as I will now discuss. The Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel opens with the salutation line lha gshen bon dang gsum la phyag ’tshal lo. According to the content of the manuscript, this line logically praises the three core elements involved in the ritual process described within the text. First are the lha, whom the rites are addressed to. Then, the gshen who represent the primordial ritual specialists in origin tales and who are auxiliaries of – and often reckoned as lineal ancestors of – any presentday users/practitioners, and who themselves are actually addressed inside this text occasionally as the human sku gshen and bon gshen. Finally, there are the ‘rites’ (bon) or methods used by these specialists to address the lha. This line is thus completely in keeping with what we find elsewhere in bon shaman manuscripts. Following this comes a cautionary statement:

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

1

5

dPon gsas instruction for the lha, Ordering of the gsas [to gain] positive force and abundance, [And] rites of phenomenal existence everlasting Are no sphere of activity for all those of weak intellect. As for this [elimination rite], from among the five great portals of bon It is a subdivision of the portal of bon for the pure lha. Without it, elimination rites for lha will decline.32

Aside from these words of caution, this initial framing passage categorises the rites within some larger tradition, but which one? Somewhat like the Bshad mdzod and certain bon shaman texts, the language used has a unique misfit character in relation to orthodox g.Yung-drung Bon, as well as being completely out of character for the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself. Here the term dpon gsas in line 1 appears as a generic reference to the type of ritual specialist who employs gsas beings as auxiliaries to attain the life-supporting or revitalising goals of rites (bon) related purely to thisworldly concerns. This is the precise purpose of the entire content of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel. However, the term dpon gsas itself, otherwise completely unknown within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, usually refers to religious figures in the Zhang-zhung snyan rgyud tradition of g.Yung-drung Bon. Thus, it is often translated in religious terms as ‘preacher’, ‘master’, ‘master sage’, and so on, while it is also claimed to mean bla ma in the Zhangzhung language. The term itself is a g.Yung-drung Bon innovation which never occurs in Old Tibetan documents, and thus it is quite unlike the sku gshen and bon gshen terms used throughout the actual text of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel. Following this introductory verse, dpon gsas is not mentioned anywhere within the remainder of the document. Moreover, what the ‘five great portals of bon’ (bon sgo chen po lnga) scheme refers to here is also problematic. Firstly, what does the word bon mean in lines 5-6? In almost all Srid-pa’i lha rabs, bon either means a ‘rite’ for purely mundane goals, or it designates a primordial or a later human ritual specialist who initiates and performs such rites. Throughout the

twenty-three folios of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript the word bon only occurs a few times, and always unambiguously with either of those two meanings. In the opening salutation and in line number 3 of this framing passage, this is also the logical meaning of bon and I translate it as ‘rite’ accordingly in those instances. But now, in the phrase bon sgo chen po lnga, it appears as a category referent, bon sgo, typical of g.Yung-drung Bon texts. One might consider it to be a variation of the bon sgo bzhi mdzod lnga formula, however the mDzod teachings encompassed by this scheme are not ‘rites’ for achieving mundane goals. Rather, the bon sgo chen po lnga classification in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel directly recalls the ‘five types’ (rnam pa lnga) portrayal of g.Yu-rung Bon found in the Bshad mdzod. The category gtsang ma lha’i bon sgo in line 6 is unknown to me from g.Yung-drung Bon sources. However, since it relates here to sel rites, one can speculate that it may be somehow connected to the gtsang shes sel ’debs, which is the fifth unit in another g.Yung-drung Bon classification of mundane ritual knowledge with twelve parts termed rgyu’i bon or ‘bon [‘rites’?] of causality’, and which is mythically projected back to the period of the progenitor emperor in g.Yung-drung Bon historiography.33 Aside from the puzzling misfit language just cited, there is no direct or indirect reference of any kind to g.Yung-drung Bon throughout the remainder of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel. Thus, as a preface to the text, this idiosyncratic verse of seven lines indeed appears rather awkward, whereas the remainder of the work systematically and confidently expounds the myths and rites of the Srid-pa’i lha cult as if an experienced bon shaman had composed it, which was undoubtedly the case. We have to assume either that the unusual seven line preface verse represents an embellishment added by a particular ritual specialist/scribe who was working with the type of local definition of ‘Bon’ evinced in the Bshad mdzod and in bon shaman texts from the cult, or that it was inserted by someone not participating in the Srid-pa’i lha cult but who must have had at least some sketchy knowledge of, or affiliation to, g.Yung-drung Bon when the text was copied elsewhere. According to Samten Karmay, the discovery location of the physical manuscript of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel itself appears to have been in the highlands

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Source of Life

of northwest Nepal, some 800 kilometres west of the Kuri Chu valley. Following these opening verses of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, and a preliminary myth of origin, there come, section by section, the instructions and chants a ritual specialist uses for successive phases of the lha sel rites that I translated and explained in chapter 7, and finally for the subsequent lha mchod rites. Then, part way through the initial ‘invitation’ (spyan ’dren) chant, when the deities are emphatically asked to come down from the sky, they are especially urged to assist with the ‘nine divisions in a rite’. At this point, the author, or another redactor of the text, has simply interpolated much of the Bshad mdzod passage quoted above directly into the text. Since the passage occurring in the Bshad mdzod itself already appears to have been quoted from elsewhere, what is found in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel may well also be from an as yet unknown earlier source. This insertion is physically obvious within the manuscript, since a different orthography in smaller script, and written using another stylus, has been used to inscribe the words: 1

5

10

15

16

Come as the power of the rite! Come as patron of the gshen! Come to assist with the nine divisions [in a rite]! Come for the prolongation of life! Come! Come as abundance! Do it! Bestow positive force, quintessence and material benefits on the ritual sponsors! Because the phenomenal world has flourished and developed, If the history of human clans is not expounded, Where would one seek the Four Groups of Little Humans? If both the sun and the moon did not exist, Who would hold up a shining lamp? If both the pha and the bon do not arise, Who can expect protection for human beings? If both the lha and the gsas do not arise, Who will repulse attacks by the ’dre and the srin? If the Srid-pa’i lha genealogy is not expounded, Who will take hold of the dMu cord of human beings? On that account, [we] invite the lha among us!34

Once all the deities have been invited and placed upon their seats (gdan la bzhugs su gsol), thirteen ritual supports are established for them. The chant then urges that the following take place: Since the ritual supports for the lha have been set up in that way, Make them body supports of the lha! Make them ritual supports for the posing of the gsas! Make them ritual supports for the rite with nine divisions!35

Nine Divisions in Srid-pa’i lha Rabs The most intact and well-integrated textual examples of the bon la le’u dgu scheme found in the cult occur within lengthy rabs at a wide range of sites across the northern zone of Sridpa’i lha cult distribution, although fragments of the scheme are also found in manuscripts much further south. The untitled example translated below is a rabs I will call the Tale of Father lHa-rje Ya-ba. It is a typical ritual antecedent narrative in which the ‘Four Groups of Little Humans’, who constitute the primordial social order, recount how they once faced crisis and gained a particular ritual solution from an archetypal ritual specialist. The name of the principal male protagonist in this narrative, lHa-rje Ya-ba, is of interest in this context. It strongly resembles other very much older names associated with the gTam-shul (earlier lTam-shul) area which is the location for discovery of the dGa’-thang manuscripts just to the north of the Srid-pa’i lha cult region. For example, the principal ‘father’ protagonist in one of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs narratives discovered at gTam-shul is named rTsang-rje Ya-bo,36 while the Old Tibetan name lTam-rje Ya-bo, lord of lTam-shul Gung-dang, occurs in the Old Tibetan manuscript PT 1285.37 The Tale of Father lHa-rje Ya-ba is embedded within a larger cycle of rabs which together constitute the main ritual texts chanted during Srid-pa’i lha festivals at a variety of sites in north-eastern Bhutan. For the two versions of the narrative I use in this comparison, namely one from Lawa in the lower Khoma Chu valley, and the other from Da in Bumdeling,

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

this larger cycle is titled Lha bzhungs chen mo or ‘Great Lore of the lHa’. In all such rabs collections, both the sequence and the content of the written texts vary somewhat from site to site, as is typical of bon shaman traditions. The first in the sequence of the Lha bzhungs chen mo is a long cosmogony beginning with the Phywa ordering the world and ending with pha jo ston pa gShen-rab described as a ‘shamanic’ ritual specialist in the sense that his features are those of bon shamans in the ethnographic record. Then come three narratives comprising a related series representing variations upon a theme. This pattern is typical of older collections of rabs, with series of variant tales addressing a specific theme, be that death, illness, impure relations between humans and non-humans, and so on. One can find the same type of rabs series or catalogues of closely related variant tales addressing a specific theme in the dGa’-thang manuscripts and in Old Tibetan documents. The three titleless variant narratives in the Lha bzhungs chen mo are those I call the Tale of Ho-za rGya-men, the Tale of the Seven Fraternal ’O Sons (= the ’O gnyen rabs to be analysed below) and the Tale of Father lHa-rje Ya-ba. Each is a variation on the same crisis theme relevant to the Srid-pa’i lha cult: there is a primordial human weakness or powerlessness – a deficit of vitality – due to lack of relations with, or imbalances in relation to, deities and non-human beings essential for maintaining human life. Each narrative thus offers a different ritual resolution to achieve revitalisation. As above, I have used line numbers rather than folio references for tracing those two passages embedded in the Tale of Father lHa-rje Ya-ba which particularly concern us, and which parallel both the Bshad mdzod and Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel passages already introduced above. The relevant material occurs at lines 13-38 and 109-119 of the following translation: 1

5

bSwo! Beneath the extended canopy of the sky on high, There is the ladder38 of the Srid-pa’i lha. Atop the finest earth spread out below, In between the sky and the earth which are like two halves of a charm box, Men came into being as the regents of living creatures. As for human beings, the Four Groups of Little Humans came into being.

10

15

20

25

30

35

As for birds, the Three Khyung who were Little Birds came into being.39 As for the lDong, the Eighteen Great Clans came into being, As for the sTong, the Four Lords and Eight Retinues came into being. As for the Se, the Nine Byu-le-spun 40 came into being. As for the rMu, the Eight Ko-le-phra 41 came into being. At about the time they came into being, The phenomenal world had flourished and fully developed. The Four Groups of Little Humans said, “If the Little Human’s own history is not expounded, Where would one seek the Four Groups of Little Humans? If both the sun and the moon did not exist, Who could hold up a shining lamp? If the pha and the bon do not arise, Who could hope for the protection of human beings? If the lha and the gsas do not arise, Who could hope for the strength of the gshen? If bad news is not sent to the lha, Who could elicit the invitation of the lha and the gsas? If a mat is not laid out for the lha, Where would the seat for the lha exist? If the power of the gsas brothers is not entrusted, [What would be] the place of enclosure for ’dre and srin driven [by] gsas brothers?42 If a support is not set up for the lha, What could be formed as an image of the [lha] lord? If the lha are not arrayed upon the [ritual specialist’s] body, How could his body, speech and mind be entrusted to them? If a gift is not presented to the lha, How could gratitude be shown? If the single points of lha and gsas [weapons] are not sharpened, In what manner could enemies and obstructers be conquered? If the Srid-pa’i lha genealogy is not expounded, Who will take hold of the rMu cord of human beings?”

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40

45

50

55

60

65

70

18

They spoke these words, and The Four Groups of Little Humans said, “As for explaining the Little Human’s own history, [it is like this]: In the country of Yar-lung Sog-kha, Within the stronghold of Sham-po lHa-rtse, The father lHa-rje Ya-ba and The mother rMu-bza’ Ngang-’brang-ma,43 Those two procreated and so produced The seven Jo-jo lHa-sras brothers, And the three Sring-mo lHa-lcam sisters. At that time and in that aeon, That father lHa-rje Ya-ba Spent the week with the court of his country. That mother rMu-bza’ Ngang-’brang Took care of the royal treasury and guarded the storerooms. The seven Jo-jo lHa-sras brothers Went hunting to chase the deer of the highlands. The three Srin-mo lHa-lcam sisters Made dairy produce in the highland pastures of the north. At that time and in that aeon, As for lHa-rje Ya-ba and his court, As for the people, since they were without lha and gsas, Half the people were on the verge of being carried off by demons. Since the cattle were without a herder who looked out for them, Half the cattle were about to be taken by enemies and thieves.44 At that time and in that aeon, That father lHa-rje Ya-ba Went to search for a pha as a protector of the people. He went to search for a gsas who was powerful. He went to request the nine divisions in a rite. In the country of the gshen, ’O-mo Rlungs-ring, In the stronghold of the gshen, Bal-po So-brgyad, He went into the presence of the ston pa gShen-rab. He circled around him to the right, then prostrated three times. He circled around him to the left, then made an appeal,

75

80

85

90

95

100

105

“Father (pha jo) ston pa gShen-rab, I request pha and bon as protectors of the people. I request lha and gsas that are powerful. I seek and request the nine divisions in a rite.” With those words he made his request, and The ston pa gShen-rab responded, “Listen here, father lHa-rje Ya-ba! You request a pha as a protector of the people, But how much will you offer in payment to the pha? You request lha who are powerful, But what ritual stakes will you plant as supports for the lha? You request the nine divisions in a rite, But can it be that with the three sacraments of the gshen?” With those words he spoke, and Father lHa-rje Ya-ba said, “Listen here ston pa gShen-rab! A pha as a protector of the people was requested, But how much payment is needed for the pha? Lha and gsas who are powerful were requested, But what ritual stakes are to be planted as supports for the lha and gsas? The nine divisions in a rite were requested, But how are the three sacraments of the gshen to be safeguarded?” With those words he made his request, and The ston pa gShen-rab responded, “Listen here lHa-rje Ya-ba, Since you requested a pha as a protector of the people, You will need this much as payment to the pha: As large items, a horse and an ox are required. As small items, a needle and thread are required. Since you requested lha and gsas who are powerful, These ritual stakes are needed as supports for the lha and gsas: As external support, a long gar spear45 is required. As internal support, a chisel-like46 life force arrow is required. As subsidiary support, a vase of lha shug47 is required. Seek a choice golden libation as beer for the lha. Since you requested the nine divisions in a rite [they are as follows]:

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

110

115

First, manifest the lha and gsas from space; Second, apply to them at a time of bad news, and bring them; Third, array the host of lha brothers; Fourth, is the empowerment from lha and gsas; Fifth, plant the supports for lha and gsas; Sixth, seek incense for the lha and serve them a beverage; Seventh, pay homage and offer them fragrant incense; Eighth, invoke the lha and gsas; Ninth, expound the Srid-pa’i lha genealogy. Do the [nine] divisions of a secret rite like that!”48

The Tale of Father lHa-rje Ya-ba is itself a rich narrative, with many facets worthy of discussion. Yet, here I will limit analysis to the overall bon la le’u dgu scheme, and what I take to be its summary motif occurring in line number 38, ‘taking hold of the rMu cord of human beings’.

Ninefold Schemes for Rites Figure 23 summarises sequences of the nine verbs for ritual action in the bon la le’u dgu scheme in the order they originally occur within the Bshad mdzod, the Tale of Father lHarje Ya-ba above, and in a parallel rabs from a different site of Srid-pa’i lha worship for comparison.

le’u

Bshad mdzod

Da 1

Lawa 2, text 10

1

bzhengs

bzhengs

bzhengs

2

btang

sbyar

btang

3

’dren

skod

’dren

4

gting

skur

gting

5

bskur

rtsugs

gtsugs

6

skod

’dren

skur

7

rdar

’bul

bkod

8

phul

brdar

brdar

9

bshad

bshad

bshad

é Figure 23. Verb sequences for the bon la le’u dgu scheme.

This indicates we are dealing with the same scheme exactly, albeit with a few minor variations. These variations are themselves typical of the individualised composition and transmission of rabs among bon shamans. Different rabs and the ritual actions linked to them draw upon common pools of transposable units and themes. In relation to specific contexts of practice, or to suit their own preferences, ritual specialists can reorder the ‘nine divisions’ (le’u dgu) to a certain degree. In other words, there is no ultimate orthodoxy, just creative variation upon a consistent theme within an overall framework leading to a common, pragmatic goal. According to all ethnographic reports, this is the logic of shaman ritual performances along the entire extended eastern Himalayas highlands from the northern Magar of Nepal to the Naxi dtô-mbà of Yunnan. I am presently not aware of this exact same ninefold scheme of ritual actions occurring anywhere else in Tibetan and Himalayan religions and ritual systems, although it may well turn up within that vast corpus of possibilities. Anyone having even a passing acquaintance with g.Yung-drung Bon will know that its ninefold bon theg pa rim dgu organisation of rites and doctrines is emblematic of that religion. However, and quite apart from the fact of their very different content and purpose, the bon la le’u dgu has nothing to do with the familiar bon theg pa rim dgu scheme. Rather, it is the case that ninefold schemes belong to everybody and nobody in Asia. They are ubiquitous in ritual cultures featuring a shaman as the central ritual specialist, and this is indeed the case in the data from both the Himalayas and Siberia. 49 They occur in old Zoroastrian rituals, as well as old Chinese and especially Daoist works.50 Nine represents a cosmologically ideal number, a totality, and in Tibetan and related languages ‘nine’ (CT dgu) also stands for ‘many’ and plurality. Nine thus encapsulates what is both complete or perfect and manifold. Because of this, the number is frequently found associated with the ‘essentials’ required for human existence. In many parts of the Himalayas, the mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’, as the enduring basis for sentient human life, is commonly said to have nine components or ‘divisibles’. In Bhutan, traditional agricultural production is defined in terms of the ‘nine types of grain’ (CT ’bru sna dgu), which every local farmer can list without hesitation

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when asked.51 Among the Naxi of north-west Yunnan, the various domestic animals upon which humans depend are a ninefiold set.52 For this same reason, nine is very commonly applied to ritual systems that are also considered essential to life or for revitalisation, as well as to the internal organisation of such rites. Ninefold units within descriptions of rites and ritual antecedent narratives, but also in cosmological organisation, were already frequent in pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan manuscripts and in the dGa’-thang ritual texts.53 We also find a ninefold scheme in earlier definitions of the notion of mi chos preserved in Tibetan Buddhist chronicles that draw upon older non-Buddhist sources.54 However, of most significance in the present context are examples of ninefold classifications and divisions in the ritual cultures of Himalayan shamans, and these are legion.55 For example, Gurung/Tamu shamans organise their oral chants into an ideal ninefold scheme,56 while northern Magar shamans possess nine ritual implements created from nine natural materials that were indispensable for their primordial shaman ancestor just as they are for his contemporary human successors.57 The most interesting of these many schemes from the extended eastern Himalayas in comparison with the bon la le’u dgu used by bon shamans is that informing the paradigmatic structure of Naxi ritual. During the 1970s, Anthony Jackson investigated six major Naxi ceremonies presided over by text-reading dtô-mbà specialists. At the time, he was apparently unaware of other ninefold schemes used for ordering rites throughout the wider region. Jackson found that the following ninefold paradigm applied to each Naxi case in his wide-ranging investigation: [T]he nine sets of rites may be regarded as so many states in the unfolding of the ritual which have the following chief framework: 1. The preparation and cleansing of the place of sacrifice. 2. The invitation to the deities and spirits to descend. 3. The eviction of those demons who might spoil the ceremony. 4. The invitation to the special deities and spirits concerned (e.g., with longevity).

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5. The sacrifice. 6. The request for power. 7. The suppression of the trouble-making demons (e.g., preventing long life being given). 8. The close of the ceremony and removal of the tree, etc. 9. The escorting of the deities back home.58 A scheme with similar elements, based upon an ideal base of nine, is also evident in the few reliable records we have of the major cycle of rites used by premodern Qiang shamans.59 This is significant since the links between an older Qiang culture of myths and rites for mundane goals and that used by the Naxi are well demonstrated and often commented upon (see ch. 17). When one considers the bon la le’u dgu scheme together with the ethnography of Srid-pa’i lha rites, the ninefold Naxi ritual paradigm given here is remarkably close, even down to fine details. This accords with many other links and parallels we have already documented between the society and culture of the Naxi in north-west Yunnan and those of the Srid-pa’i lha worshippers much further west in Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. There is every reason to think these two ninefold forms of ritual organisation are in fact closely related as a common aspect of trans-regional shamanic tradition-complexes, and more evidence will be addressed in chapters 17 and 18 to demonstrate this.

Taking Hold of the rMu Cord of Human Beings From the perspective of the ethnography of Srid-pa’i lha rites, the heart of the bon la le’u dgu scheme is undoubtedly captured by its final lines: srid pa’i lha rgyud ma bshad na / mi yi dmu thag su yis ’dzin / If the Srid-pa’i lha genealogy is not expounded, Who will take hold of the dMu cord of human beings? While this quote is many centuries old, it epitomises today’s Srid-pa’i lha cult, and must be carefully appreciated in

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

context. Samten Karmay once translated these same lines as they occur in the Bshad mdzod passage analysed above, although his interpretation is somewhat different from my own (words in parentheses are Karmay’s own insertions): If the history of the divine lineage (of men) of the world had not been explained, who could hold (understand) the dmu thag of men?60 While Karmay is undoubtedly one of the world’s leading authorities on the g.Yung-drung Bon religion, his interpretation here provides a good example of how that type of knowledge is no certain guide to the culture of mundane rites in practice. He overlooked the fundamental importance of this verse in two ways. The text is based upon a pair of allusions to continuities between lha and human beings. The first, rgyud, which explicitly addresses the lha, cannot describe ‘history’ in relation to them since they exist in mythical time in which all conventional chronological reference points are absent. The term rgyud rather expresses relatedness in terms of descent and ontological continuity between lha themselves and between lha and humans, in other words ‘genealogy’ as a ‘stream’ or ‘flow’.61 For the second allusion, dmu thag…’dzin, Karmay draws upon the ‘knowledge versus ignorance’ paradigm typical of the discourse used by Tibetan salvation religions, and with which g.Yung-drung Bon redactors so often recontextualised purely mundane rites and concerns when trying to accommodate them with orthodox religious doctrine – the sNang-gshen theg pa section of the Gzi brjid is full of such references. ‘Expounding’ (bshad) or giving an oral ‘exposition’ (smrang) of origins is the purpose of many if not most antecedent narratives (rabs) used in ritual practice, and it is a purpose to which the primary aetiologic – and some claim, efficacious – quality of rabs is bound. As already demonstrated above, we usually find the verse srid pa’i lha rgyud ma bshad na / mi yi dmu thag su yis ’dzin in the enumeration of a ninefold series of steps in a ritual process, and of which this is the final step mentioned. In Srid-pa’i lha cult rabs, the same phrase is thus positively referred to as the ‘ninth’ such ritual step (dgu pa srid pa’i lha rgyud bshad). In actual ritual practice of Srid-pa’i lha worship today, the set of rites must always include an oral exposition of the lha

cosmo-genealogy as a central feature, a chant often termed Lha rgyud for short. These recitations explain the descent of the Srid-pa’i lha to varying degrees, from merely citing their parentage and siblings on the one hand, to extensive genealogies recounting all generations from the beginning of creation on the other hand, or how certain lesser beings – other deities and humans – are themselves descendants of the lha. This is far more than representing ‘understanding’ in context. It is a method and necessary ritual act without which the rites are incomplete. In fact, ‘taking hold of the rMu cord of human beings’ here refers directly to ritual practice. The verse itself is a pithy statement about a ritual method, namely rites performed within the cult of the Srid-pa’i lha that are directed up to the sky by human agents as a form of establishing or maintaining a vital connection to their lha. It also glosses the sending up of messengers – like the mythical bat and the human bon shaman or his auxiliaries with the equivalent role – on an upward verbal ritual journey into the sky, and their descent to earth with the lha. The rite itself is a rMu cord established between sky and earth, a functional analogue of the mythical object and its operation. There are many parallel traditions of rites in which this image of grasping the rMu cord occurs. For example, in a section on purification within a Sel rabs used for Srid-pa’i lha worship in the lower Khoma Chu valley, we read in an appeal to the deities, ‘Because the foul smells of the clay hearth [caused by the singeing of matter] have been averted, grasp the rMu cord of the sel [rite]!’62 Here the reference is to sending purifying smoke up into the sky to open a vertical path along which all impurities and obstacles have been ‘eliminated’ (sel), a path the sky lha can then use uninhibited for their transit to the terrestrial altar and back. The smoke-path is the rMu cord. In the research region and elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas, we frequently find the ritual smoke which rises into the sky from fumigation colloquially explained as a ‘cord’ (thag), a ‘ladder’ (them and skas) or a ‘path’ (lam), opening the way and connecting the deities of the upper regions with their earth-bound worshippers.63 In yet other types of rites, a rMu cord, both real and metaphorical, connects humans to their lha origins and the powers of life the deities possess. Most altars for Srid-pa’i lha rites have a woollen cord – a

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î Plate 192. Woollen mudag cords running uphill from a sky burial platform, Yushu, eastern Tibet, 2014.

rmu thag - attached to the lha tree forming the end section of the path from and to the sky (see ch. 7). During contemporary corpse disposal by way of exposure and dismemberment - so-called ‘sky burial’ - staged on hillsides in eastern Tibet, a five metre long, white cord colloquially called the mudag is used to guide the consciousness or vitality principle of the deceased upwards towards the sky. The cord is of raw sheep’s wool freshly braided by a close relative of the deceased, and initially wrapped around the corpse before it is transported to the charnel ground (dur khrod) upon a local hill. The corpse is placed at the dismemberment platform with head uphill near a stone inscribed with mantras, with the mudag tied around its neck and laid out leading uphill towards the sky (pl. 192).64 The groom participating in mundane wedding rites conducted by a srid pa’i bon po specialist has a woollen thread called dmu thag attached to his fontenelle, and ‘that dmu thag is entrusted to the lha’ (dmu thag de ni lha la bcol) during the rites.65 In the context of ritual actions performed by a srid pa rgyud kyi bon po as described in the sNang-gshen theg pa section of the Gzi brjid, and addressed to lha, gsas and dbal beings, the rites are attributed the result that, “They will defend the life-lustre and the ‘heavenly-cord’ [dmu thag] of living beings”.66 Here

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the reference is to the quality of vitality and the life powers of beings ritually associated with the lha, and thus dependent upon unobstructed connection to them. The rMu cord’s cognate role in the actual practice of rites is both ubiquitous and widespread over a specific region of the far eastern Tibetan Plateau and beyond along the extreme southern and eastern peripheries of the Plateau. For example, in the Mishmi Hills chambring shamans serving in the Miju Mishmi community climb cords during verbal ritual journeys up into the sky to obtain life-promoting ‘medicine’ from the female deity Matai,67 while use of the ‘life god’s cord’ in Naxi domestic rites has been described.68 Such rites – or at least the image of them – are also ancient. For instance, ritual specialists appropriately termed lha bon, g.yang bon and pya bon (or: phya bon?) who use cords of the dmu, lha and gsas are described already in Old Tibetan manuscripts from the Hexi Corridor in north-west Gansu, along the extreme north-eastern periphery of the Plateau.69 The rMu cord provides yet another pointed reminder that many central motifs of myth-making have been drawn from the practical realm of rites performed for mundane goals, and that this practical realm is also one we are not compelled to

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

regard as being “Tibetan”. The strongest records of distribution of such rites are all concentrated along the extended eastern Himalayas and adjacent regions and the peripheries of the Tibetan Plateau, and they overlap with the ritual cultures of a range of highland shamans. This has been the recurring pattern uncovered throughout this study for the content of the Srid-pa’i lha cult.

14.3 The ’O Remedy Another unique aspect of the presentation of ‘Bon teachings’ in the fifteenth century Bshad mdzod discussed above is occurrence of the obscure compound terms ’o gnyen and sdig stod. In fact, ’o gnyen refers to a rite of revival or revitalisation which forms a specific part of the narrative and ritual system of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The ’o gnyen rite has been best preserved in the northern zone of the research region, specifically in the parallel Bhutanese highland valleys of Bumdeling, Khoma and Kurtö and downstream along the Kuri Chu valley at least as far as its mid-section along which Chocha-ngacha is spoken in the cult’s worship communities. During my field research, I met elder bon shamans who knew the ’o gnyen rite. However, its use appears to have generally gone into abeyance during the past few decades. This is part of a wider pattern of decline of Srid-pa’i lha festivals as the current generation of elderly bon shamans are no longer being replaced. Because ’o gnyen is a rite requiring a longer time due to lengthy chanting of the ’O gnyen rabs, it appears to have fallen victim to a contemporary trend to reduce the overall length of Srid-pa’i lha festivals due to lower participant interest and demands upon time. In the following three-way comparison, I will investigate what similarities and differences exist between Srid-pa’i lha cult materials on ’o gnyen and sdig stod and those found in Old Tibetan documents, and finally with references occurring in g.Yung-drung Bon religious sources. This will accurately demonstrate which actual continuities exist between the three bodies of evidence, as well as where there are none, and possibly why this is so.

The ’O gnyen rabs Versions of the ritual antecedent narrative entitled ’O gnyen rabs or Narrative of the ’O Remedy are found in the manuscript collections of bon shamans across the northern region. In its full form, this narrative is one of the longer chants that bon shamans can use, covering more than twenty manuscript folios at some sites. For the three versions of the ’O gnyen rabs I employed in this comparison, the longer chant cycle featuring it is titled Lha bzhungs chen mo at both Lawa in the lower Khoma Chu valley and at Da in Bumdeling, while the title Gnam sa cho ’phrul is given to an equivalent cycle at Gortshom in the Kuri Chu valley. Before I explain the closely related pair of terms ’o gnyen and sdig stod, I will first give a translation of their occurrence within the context of the ’O gnyen rabs. Here I have glossed ’o gnyen as ‘the ’o remedy’ while the unresolved sdig stod is left untranslated: bSwo! Long ago, at the beginning of phenomenal existence, [20a] The ’o remedy 70 division [among the nine le’u] was not administered. But now, it is necessary to administer the ’o remedy division. As for administering the ’o remedy division [it first occurred as follows]: In the land of ’O-yul ’O-stod,71 In the stronghold of ’O-mkhar rTse-mtho, The grandfather of the ’O Was a golden bird with yellow wings. His beak was yellow, and he had yellow eyes. His golden crest was yellow. On his wings he had yellow bya ru. The grandmother of the ’O Was a turquoise bird with blue wings. Her beak was blue, and she had blue eyes. On her wings, she had blue bya ru. Her turquoise crest was blue. Those two birds procreated and from their union, Nine eggs were produced from the body of the [female] bird. [20b] The nine eggs broke open and from within them, [19b...]

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There appeared the so-called nine g.yen who were originally harmful. Those so-called nine g.yen who were originally [harmful] Were the sole masters of all the deities and spirits. They were the g.yen for all human beings. They were the only possessors of all livestock. Furthermore, upon whom did they descend first? In the land of ’O-Yul ’O-smad, In the stronghold of ’O-mkhar lDem-pa, There were both father sTangs-kyi ’O-rje bTsan-po, And [mother] dByal-gyi ’O-bdag bTsun-po,72 And these two procreated and the sons from their union Came forth as the so-called ’O-bu sPun-bdun (‘Seven Fraternal ’O Sons’). Those so-called ’O-bu sPun-bdun Had their mental principles73 exit [their bodies], thus Their growth did not develop as human beings [normally] develop. [21a] As for their livestock, they could neither get hold of nor protect them. They decided to blame the black bdud. It was possibly also a powerful ma bdud.74 They cut off the access path of the fierce btsan. They destroyed the famed palace of the rgyal po. They dug up the sacred earth of the sa bdag. They destroyed the sites of escape of the klu and gnyan. They felled all the strong trees with axes. They made all the mighty rivers dry up. They upheaved all the steadfast rocks with levers. They conducted all the side streams into drains. They ploughed all the rugged lands into fields. They abandoned all the awesome hills to the cuckoo.75 They constructed strongholds upon all the small hillocks. They destroyed all the fearful rock cliffs right down to their bases. [21b] Due to the ripening of their deeds of this sort, The punishment of the lha descended from the sky. The penalty of the klu ascended from the earth. From the east, a lake of the ma bdud rose up.

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From the south, the thorn trees of the rmu flourished. From the west, the black mountains of the bdud spread. From the north, the red wind of the btsan came up. Further awesome deities and spirits of the phenomenal world appeared, Some wrathful and others savage, Some blazing like fire. Others arose boiling like water. Some emerged whirling like the wind. Epidemic diseases of the deities and spirits of the phenomenal world descended. The ’O-bu sPun-bdun were consumed by illness. With grievous cries, they were unable to arise at daybreak. With wheezing breaths, they were nothing but collapsed at sunset. They were on the verge of being akin to those who are deceased. [22a] They asked who could do healing rites and diagnosis, after which In the land of ’O-yul Bar-thang, In the stronghold of Zo-ba’i Khyung-legs, A son was emanated by the ston pa gShen-rab. He was called ’o bon rGyal-snyan, and he dwelt there. The ston pa ’o bon rGyal-snyan Wore a pale white ’o cloak on this body. He wore a maroon ’o hat upon this head. In his right hand, he held Ephedra, mustard seed and barley, those three. In his left hand he beat the ’o drum, chem chem. When the ’o bon rGyal-snyan was invited, Since healing rites and diagnosis were requested from him, The ’o bon rGyal-snyan responded, “In this case, nobody is without fault. The retribution was due to the ’O-bu sPun-bdun themselves. [22b] In this case, for which nothing whatsoever can help, One would want to administer an ’o remedy with the three replenishers.76 As first ’o replenisher, One would wish for the ’o yak Sham-po.77

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

As second ’o replenisher, One would wish for the ’o sheep rNgon-po-rtsa.78 As third ’o replenisher, One would wish for a gold ladle and a turquoise ladle. One would wish for Ephedra, mustard seed and barley, the three.” At his speaking of those words, The so-called ’O-bu sPun-bdun Made requests for ransom items that were difficult [to obtain] to the people. They excavated ransom items that were easy [to obtain] in the rocks.79 They offered them into the hands of the ’o bon rGyal-snyan. The ston pa ’o bon rGyal-snyan, Divided up a strong golden libation Into [both] the yellow ladle of gold and The blue ladle of turquoise. With the Ephedra, mustard seed and barley, the three, [23a] He made the elixir of the ’o. With five types of fine silk, He made the ornamentation for the ’o. With the ’o yak Sham-po and The ’o sheep rNgon-po-rtsa, he made ritual supports for the ’o. He gathered them with his right hand, zeng se zeng, He beat the ’o drum in his left hand. He beat the drum of the ’o, bi ri ri. From his mouth, he intoned the rite of the ’o. He intoned the rite of the ’o, cong se congs. In the morning, he divided off one ransom offering of the Ephedra. In the afternoon, he cracked one portion of the mustard seed. He sprinkled a first serving of the golden libation. He put together some grains of the white barley.80 To whom did he administer a share of the ’o remedy? bSwo! Listen! Hosts of beneficial and harmful spirits of phenomenal existence. Listen! Black Ones, sons of the bdud. [23b] In the sky on high an ’o remedy is desired. Upon the earth below a sdig stod is desired.

The wise lha desire an ’o remedy. The shameless ’dre desire a sdig stod. On the bright, sunny hillsides an ’o remedy is desired. On the dark, shady hillsides a sdig stod is desired. In the land, the lha land, Gung-thang, In the stronghold, lHa-mkhar Pho-’brang, The Lord, Yab-lha Dal-drug Is encircled by a retinue of one hundred thousand powerful lha. To them, one division of the ’o remedy is administered. Indeed, lha, it is time to mount up and assemble. Being able to hear, listen to the rite that is spoken! Being able to see, look at the exquisite ransom offerings! [24a] The offering of a beverage with gold for your mouths, Will become the halter and reins for your horses’ mouths! The lha will neither pursue nor subdue us! It is administered to avert the lha’s plague.81 At this point in the text, with offerings to lha being complete, the remainder of the lengthy narrative goes on to recount the ’o bon rGyal-snyan’s successive visits to the abodes of the bdud, rmu, gza’, btsan, sman, rgyal po, ma bdud and klu, respectively. The formulation is purely repetitive. For each class of beings visited, the same phrasing as the above description of administering a division of the ’o remedy to the lha is repeated exactly. Once all nine classes of g.yen deities have received the ’o remedy in this manner, the stricken ’Obu sPun-bdun are explicitly described as having been ‘revitalised’ (sos) once again.82 Following this ‘result’ line, the text ends, as rabs often do in their closing sentences, with the temporal register switching from primordial to present time and actual ritual actors. The emphasis now is upon continuity between the primordial antecedent in the preceding narrative and the actual practices being performed by a real bon shaman, who employs the rite for present-day ritual sponsors: Previously, in the beginning, who was the ’o remedy for? It was an ’o remedy for the ’O-bu sPun-bdun.

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Today, who is the ’o remedy for? It is an ’o remedy for [the benefit of] the ritual sponsor. This ritual sponsor and his fellows Give this potent, choicest ’o remedy For the sake of the powerful, beneficial and harmful spirits of phenomenal existence, and [also] At the time of turning towards the gnyan, and Wishing to invite the btsan, and Due to the displeasure of the nine g.yen! Accept it! May it satisfy the commitment of the nine gshen! Henceforth, do not cause harm to those in attendance here! Let there be pleasure and delight! We offer the choicest ’o remedy!83 This is the end of the text. There is a great deal one could say about the content of this ’O gnyen rabs. To take but one instance, one can note that its plot gives the cosmological framing typical of the cult, in which birds appear as primordial agents and the first humans are stunted beings lacking in basic faculties or abilities. I will consider the ’O gnyen rabs again when discussing a much wider range of ’o- words and concepts and ’O- identities in chapter 17 and appendix L. The task now at hand is to understand what the wording ’o gnyen and sdig stod actually mean in the particular context of this narrative. ’O gnyen is the object of a range of transitive verbs, including gsol ‘administering’, ’tshal ‘to want, wish, desire’ (also to express ‘willingness’, ‘understanding’), phul ‘giving’ and mchod ‘offering’, while the rarely mentioned sdig stod is the object of ’tshal ‘to wish, desire’. Both terms define a rite in which a collection of requisites are transferred to deities or spirits to remedy afflictions they caused, and which are suffered by a ritual sponsor due to disharmony in the relations between the two sets of beings. Yet, only the constituents for an ’o gnyen are explicitly described, not all the ritual actions. The few living ritual specialists who know the rite confirmed the list of ritual constituents given above. The ’o gnyen is recalled to have essentially been a fluid-based application for reviving, for bringing back to life, persons and deities who lost their life force or had it compromised in

26

some manner. A mixture was cast upwards or downwards, or both. Thus, it was a revitalising elixir as a remedy. The details mentioned in the rabs text all confirm these reports. Yet, what is not clear from the text itself is that ’o gnyen was performed annually during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. It was administered for the entire worship community as a preventative measure, to clarify any possible outstanding and perhaps unrecognised problems before the coming productive year, in a similar manner to which glud rites are used in Srid-pa’i lha festivals in a pre-emptive manner for a whole worship community (see chs. 10, 11). The pair ’o gnyen and sdig stod in this rabs refer to alternate modes of cosmic orientation for what is essentially the same rite. While ’o gnyen is directed to, and associated with, the references above/sky/positive/lha/light, alternatively sdig stod is directed to, and associated with, the references below/earth/negative/’dre/dark. We find that two lines in another local rabs text explicitly confirm this. That narrative concerns the purity of the hearth and the wood burnt upon it. When describing preparatory rites performed for a tree – presumably to be harvested for ritual burning – the text states: For the greenery, there must be an ’o gnyen to the sky! For the roots emerging on the tree, there must be a sdig stod to the earth.84 Furthermore, the literal meaning of ’o gnyen within manuscripts recording Srid-pa’i lha cult rabs appears relatively straightforward. As an identity in the initial sections of the ’O gnyen rabs, the ’o- element derives from the mythical place ’O-yul ’O-stod above, referring to the sky, and designates its ornithomorphic denizens so named in the initial origin myth. In the later sections describing ritual procedures, ’o occurs as a stand-alone substantive referring to the combination of reviving ritual substances which are used together and comprise an ’o gnyen. For example, this is evident in the phrase mtshe nyung nas 3 la // ’o yi bcud du byas // dar zab rna lnga la // ’o yi brgyan du byas //. The element gnyen and its variant spelling mnyen in local manuscripts are consistent references to a semantic field encompassing ‘remedy’, ‘cure’ and ‘antidote’ in Classical Tibetan.85 Thus,

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

I translate ‘’o remedy’ for ’o gnyen. The Srid-pa’i lha cult rabs tell us ’o gnyen is something to be ‘administered’ (gsol) to various deities and spirits as a remedy. This ’o remedy for the deities has the secondary effect on their victims, namely the ’O-bu sPun-bdun in the myth, of reviving or revitalising (sos). This double remedying and reviving function seems to be intimately related to what ’o signifies: its dual efficaciousness brings both parties and their relationship back into a vital harmony. The meaning of sdig stod, which is the consistent orthography since the fifteenth century, is more obscure. We can only begin to understand sdig stod, as well as the original meaning of ’o gnyen, in relation to similar Old Tibetan wording found in Dunhuang manuscripts which I will now discuss.

Old Tibetan Document PT 1060 It is significant that the ’O gnyen rabs preserved in the Sridpa’i lha cult shares a range of lexical and content parallels with the pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan scroll PT 1060. A comparison of the two texts leaves no doubt about some past redactional relationship between them, even if the exact nature of such a connection is now lost to us. At the time of writing, a ritual narrative covering lines 2-17 of PT 1060 contained the only joint occurrence of the wording ’o mnyen and sdig btod (and their orthographic variations) within the one hundred or so Old Tibetan documents and inscriptions available within the searchable database of the Old Tibetan Documents Online website. The document PT 1060 records parts of a text related to the classification and pedigree of horses with special distinguishing marks, all of which is set within a framework of myth motifs and ritual language. In the second part of the text, such horses are of a pedigree defined as do ma snying dags, and in the Old Tibetan texts describing death rites this same definition is used for the main psychopomp animals, both horses and yak assigned to the deceased. Thus, we are dealing with a text related peripherally to death rites, or containing language reused from such sources. The initial section of PT 1060 employs the hair colour of horses and other characteristics to index horse types to ten different classes of divine beings or deified astral and atmospheric

phenomena. For each horse type, a set of procedures described by the wording ’o mnyen and sdig btod are applied to the horse. Like many Old Tibetan texts of its sort, both the language and subject matter of PT 1060 are often obscure, and anything approaching a reliable interpretation is only possible by applying comparative philology using cognate and approximately contemporary sources. The text edition and tentative translation86 of lines 2-5 from PT 1060 below provide a representative passage with which to appreciate the wording ’o mnyen and sdig btod in their Old Tibetan context, together with mention of a set of substances and procedures which are closely related to them. (2...) rj[e] bden dang zhal87 my[I] mjal na’ // rta la ’o mnyan (3) rmang la sdIg bthod na’88 // kha bang gnyIs ’tshos gyI bu ra yag gnyIs ’tshos bu / spu dkar du byung na rta lha ’I rta ste lha yul gung dang gyI nang du / (4) mchIs ste / rta lha ’I rta ste / gnyan te ma btub // gdod de ma bcad / na’ / phuM phuM tshungs gcIg / rnga ma nyag gcIg / (5) mtshe mo nyag gcIg yungs mo / sgangs / gcIg skyem pa dngul gang / gyIs rta la ’o mnyen / rmang la sdIg btod //89 [2...] When a true lord and [his] consort do not (?) meet,90 the son/child reared [by] both, [3] Kha-bang91 [and] Ra-yag: if [the son/child] appeared as a white-haired one, having gone to Gung-dang, the lha land [4], [and] being a horse, the lha horse, if [one], having fixed/caught [it], did not cut [it], having tethered [it], did not trim [it], [one] fixed ’o on the horse, [and one] tethered sdig92 on the charger with one tshungs93 [measure] of horse-mane,94 one nyag95 [measure] of tail [hair], [5] one nyag [measure] of Ephedra, one handful96 of mustard seed, [and] one full silver[-ladle97] of beverage. Following the fragmentary origin tale preserved in lines 2-3, this first excerpt is related to the lha and the white-haired horse. Then, down as far as line 18, we find the same formula being repeated for a series of horses with different distinguishing marks, with each horse type respectively indexed

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to one or other of a group of beings or deified natural phenomena (fig. 24). However, in these subsequent sections the initial formula set out in full detail in lines 4-5 here is then employed in a highly abbreviated manner. They only mention the procedure of ‘fixing’ (mnyen) ’o and ‘tethering’ (btod) sdig to each type of horse, without listing the five different materials that are required. Therefore, the terms ’o and sdig in this section of PT 1060 are names for what the five ritual materials applied in this manner represent. They are thus terms which stand for a rite technique, the same meaning as in the ’O gnyen rabs. The Old Tibetan verbs mnyen and btod also inform us what the nominalised elements gnyen and stod in the later Classical Tibetan constructions ’o gnyen and sdig stod are derived from. The precise purpose of ‘fixing’ (mnyen) the ’o and ‘tethering’ (btod) the sdig is not explicit in PT 1060, although it can be understood to some extent from the context. They appear related to an inability to be able to groom (ma btub, ma bcad) special types of horses, and thus serve as a compensatory measure or remedy. Three of the ritual materials employed, namely Ephedra, mustard seed, and some form of beverage in a measuring vessel or ladle made of precious material, are often found mentioned in other Old Tibetan documents, as well as in early post-eleventh century manuscripts.98 In those contexts, they are always requisites employed for rites like glud and byol that are addressed to the same types of deities (bdud, srin, etc.) found listed in PT 1060. Thus, we can safely assume their use here is specifically directed at the group of beings or deified phenomena indexed to the horses. One can compare the set of horses indexed to deities in PT 1060 with the final lines in each sub-section of the ’O gnyen rabs that are related to the horses of the lha, and every other class of deities thereafter, to appreciate another poignant example of continuity between the two texts. We also know that this pre-eleventh century practice was not restricted to horses alone. The Old Tibetan death rite PT 1194 mentions an ’o mnyan performed for a vulture’s wing (gshog) used to convey ‘bad news’ about death, while shortly after a psychopomp sheep also receives an ’o mnyan.99 Thanks to research by Marcelle Lalou and Rolf Stein on Old Tibetan documents describing death rites, we have long known that not only horses, but also yak

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and sheep were depicted as psychopomp animals. 100 This parallels the occurrence of both yak and sheep as the main animals required for the rite in the ’O gnyen rabs, namely the ’o yak Sham-po and the ’o sheep rNgon-po-rtsa. This same sheep name in the form g.yang [mo] Ngo-rtsa also features in the Old Tibetan death rite PT 1194.101 Within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the early psychopomp animals, horse and sheep, reappear as the chief mounts of the Srid-pa’i lha for their descent and ascent between the sky and earth worlds. The sheep is also the mythical mount of the messenger bat who first delivers an invitation to these lha at the top of the sky in the origin myth for the entire cult. The ideal sheep’s wool turban worn by bon shamans during verbal ritual journeys to the sky is a functional equivalent of the psychopomp sheep. Another significant correlation between PT 1060 and the ’O gnyen rabs is the g.yen dgu category of beings or deities. Figure 24 compares the ten different classes of divine beings or deified astral and atmospheric phenomena from PT 1060 with the ‘nine g.yen of phenomenal existence’ (srid pa’i g.yen dgu) featuring in the ’O gnyen rabs. Despite some variations, the two lists are closely cognate. Aside from the two texts being compared here, the specific ninefold g.yen dgu category seems only to be mentioned in

no.

PT 1060

’O gnyen rabs

1

lha in lHa-yul Gung-dang

lha in lHa-yul Gung-thang

2

bdud

bdud

3

dmu

rmu

4

skar

gza’

5

gzha’ (< gza’)

btsan

6

sprin

sman

7

gnyan

rgyal po

8

klu

ma bdud

9

sman

klu

10

srin

é Figure 24. G.yen dgu beings in the order they appear in the Old Tibetan manuscript PT 1060 and the ’O gnyen rabs.

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

a range of Old Tibetan documents and older manuscripts concerning rites to appease deities and for death rites. 102 Beyond these sources, little is known about the g.yen dgu. While some of the types of beings listed as g.yen dgu common to both the ’O gnyen rabs and PT 1060 are more familiar to us from later ritual texts as denizens of the terrestrial and subterranean realms of the cosmos, but particularly the klu, sman and bdud, this is no certain guide to their preeleventh century character. For example, in the Old Tibetan document IOL Tib J 739 concerning divination, some sman deities are initially invoked, the first being the ‘sky sman’, followed by a range of sman indexed initially to higher topographical features (e.g., ‘hill ridges’ gang > sgang, and ‘slates’ g.ya) down to lower ones (e.g., ‘lakes’ mtsho).103 In fact, it appears the g.yen dgu were originally conceived of as deities related primarily to the sky realm and the upward vertical axis extending between higher places upon the earth and the sky above. Not only do the deity types listed in PT 1060 strongly suggest this, but also other references do. On lines 50-51 of PT 1060, we find explicit mention of the same g.yen dgu category cited in the form ‘nine g.yen in the sky’ (gnam la g.yen dgu). The same or near identical phrasing also occurs in the Old Tibetan documents PT 1285 and IOL Tib J 734, while IOL Tib J 731 also mentions the ‘nine star g.yen’ (skar ma g.yen dgu).104 To finish this comparison between PT 1060 and the ’O gnyen rabs, we can note the existence of several additional passages in which the composition of both texts appears suggestively similar or parallel.105 In the contexts we are dealing with, it is possible to interpret the g.yen dgu deity types and their sequence as being correlated with the upward vertical axis or vertical itinerary for a ritual journey of one form or other, extending in between sky and earth. Rites concerning ’o investigated here always appear related to this axis and its transit. Indeed, the deity types and sequence in PT 1060 clearly recall in part the vertical sequence of the then/’then stages found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and in older myths, which are also ideally nine in number. The same vertical axis and its transit are also central to posthumous exorcisms termed rnel dri ’dul ba in the ca. eleventh century ritual manuscripts from dGa’-thang and the old Ste’u and Sha slungs rites from the same period (see ch. 15).

g.Yung-drung Bon Sources Beyond the sources described above, to my present knowledge the only other records related to ’o gnyen, sdig btod and the g.yen dgu occur in just a few texts preserved within g.Yung-drung Bon canonical collections. These texts are grouped with others describing death rites in the Mu cho khrom ’dur collection, which contains around a hundred individual works (the total varying in different editions of the canon). According to the most recent scholarship on g.Yung-drung Bon canons, the Mu cho khrom ’dur collection can “by no account belong to the Kanjur”.106 Aside from this, there is no verifiable data available concerning the collection’s actual provenance, age, original locations of composition nor even its use for actual ritual practice by real social actors. Due to this overwhelming information void, the Mu cho khrom ’dur cannot currently be used with any confidence in comparative work. The status of this heterogeneous collection might have several explanations. It could constitute additional materials gathered together by some concerned canonical compiler, and thus preserved alongside mainstream canonical works in certain versions of the canon. The collection may also be a sort of ‘residue’ left over from an earlier phase in the development of g.Yung-drung Bon, a phase when its agents began seeking stronger self-orientation towards soteriological doctrines, goals and the institutional forms and identities supporting them, such as establishing a standardised textual authority in a canon. We can see that religious textual strategies have been partially – and often crudely – applied in the case of the Mu cho khrom ’dur collection.107 These embellishments have obviously been employed to try and marshal, at least cosmetically, an assemblage of often-disparate ritual texts that have nothing to do with salvation in line with an emerging g.Yung-drung Bon soteriological orthodoxy. Moreover, when one is familiar with Old Tibetan ritual texts, the dGa’-thang manuscripts and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript, as well as those rites and rabs found used in Srid-pa’i lha worship, obviously the language in certain works within the Mu cho khrom ’dur collection has the same general pedigree as these former types of sources. However, in the context of g.Yung-drung Bon, a significant proportion of texts in the collection have come down to us heavily reworked

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by pious religious redactors. They are accorded the status of fixed religious liturgies with origins claimed as ancient, then later ‘revealed’ or written out by named and authorised agents, all so that they can gain the set of criteria required for entry into orthodox systems, such as canonical collections, lineage transmissions, and so forth. This is precisely what we encounter in relation to those Mu cho khrom ’dur texts referencing ’o gnyen, sdig btod and the g.yen dgu in certain ways. It is a very far cry from the individualised and unique, and mostly anonymous rabs proliferating in series of equally ranked variants that are the products of unknown autonomous ritual specialists. One very short work of just a few folios in the Mu cho khrom ‘dur collection is entitled Stong gsum phyi nang spyi la ’o myes (gnyan) gsol ba (inserted emendation in the original), or Stong gsum dbang chen spyi la ’o mnyen gsol ba in another edition of the collection.108 Despite its promising title, this text neither contains explicit mention of any rites related to ’o gnyen and sdig stod (or any orthographic variants), nor shares any of the particular vocabulary and phrasing discussed above in common with either PT 1060 or the ’O gnyen rabs. Rather, in conventional Classical Tibetan, and with a ritual language typical of compositions by religious lamas, it relates the controlling of sa bdag, klu and gnyan deities. Another much longer Mu cho khrom ’dur text, the Rin chen phreng gzhung gi mtshan bon g.yen sde ’dul ba (hereafter G.yen sde ’dul ba), likewise contains nothing familiar from PT 1060 or the ’O gnyen rabs, except for some more distantly related treatment of the g.yen. The G.yen sde ’dul ba describes in detail, often using imperative verbs of violence – ‘kill!’ (sod), ‘oppress!’ (non), ‘bind!’ (sdoms), and so forth – the systematic and complete ‘subjugation’ (’dul ba) of various beings by a series of bon who appear to be superhuman ritual specialists of a sort that range around the cosmos. Here the term g.yen (cf. also g.yen sde, g.yen ’dre) has a blanket meaning referring to all forms of troublesome beings throughout a hierarchical and totalising cosmic scheme comprised of thirty-three ‘realms’ (khams) arranged into three descending divisions (ya, bar and sa). When translating the Gzi brjid, David Snellgrove glossed this blanket class of g.yen/

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dbyen as “(beings of) discord” in line with Classical Tibetan meanings of the word.109 The ‘thirty-three g.yen bon’ (g.yen bon sum bcu rtsa sum) who are enumerated as subjugators of such troublesome beings are each named after the specific cosmic realm they conquer. Thus, within the ‘intermediate’ (bar) division, the seventeenth hierarchical realm called sprin khams is subjugated by the sprin bon Sa-thul. Of interest for the present discussion, we find an ’o khams as the fifth realm of the cosmic sky division being subjugated by an ’o bon ’Brang-za, or ’o bon ’Brang-phugs in some versions. And just prior to this, the fourth realm is very curiously termed gnyen khams with a gnyen bon gTo-tsha (or gnyen bon gTo-chen) prevailing there. The entire thirty-threefold scheme in this work is rather old since it also appears in both the Mdo ’dus110 and Gzer mig111 hagiographies of the g.Yung-drung Bon ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo. In those sources we find other telling traces not present in the G.yen sde ’dul ba text. For example, the manuscript Gzer myig presentation identifies the nine bon po subjugators of the collective g.yen denizens of the intermediate division of cosmic realms – but not of the other two divisions – as ‘tetherers’ (gdod po, gtod po), based upon the same verb used in PT 1060.112 What we are seeing here in these g.Yung-drung Bon sources are reused words from, and fragments of, the Old Tibetan references relating to ’o gnyen and sdig btod (and variants) and the g.yen dgu. Moreover, these are fragments significantly recontextualised away from their original narrative and ritual habitat. This is now a well-known modus operandi by which apparently ‘unique’ terminology newly appearing in the g.Yung-drung Bon religion came into being.113 It is obvious such adaptations follow the concerns of soteriologically-minded religious redactors drawing upon materials originally from Indic Buddhist models, such as the well-known thirty-threefold cosmic scheme also shared with Tibetan Buddhism, the violent imagery and language of South Asian tantra, and so on. The texts we just cited from the Mu cho khrom ’dur collection, as with the relevant passages in Classical Tibetan hagiographies of the g.Yung-drung Bon ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo, are replete with the discourses of the mainstream Tibetan salvation religions, in which

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

total subjugation is the rhetorical and ritual concern, and moreover one frequently conveyed in a language of strong violence. Henk Blezer once described the Mu cho khrom ’dur collections as “the Khrom ’dur and ’Dur chog gter ma literature, (re)invented somewhat around the 11th c. AD”,114 and the above investigation generally supports this assessment. However, this is not to claim that the Srid-pa’i lha cult, with its ’O gnyen rabs, is somehow a direct descendant of, or some unchanged ‘archaic’ survival of the Old Tibetan milieu of myths and rites when compared with g.Yungdrung Bon sources. Rather, both represent creative yet parallel developments beyond the older cultural materials they derive or draw from, being developments undertaken by different sets of agents with alternative agendas.

what common ground, or lack of it, may exist between them. One of the challenges of this exercise is that g.Yungdrung Bon has several overlapping classificatory schemes to accommodate mundane rites together with its religious practices and doctrine. Thus, I will choose and briefly summarise development of the one scheme that is of most interest for comparison. This is the set of ‘ways’ (theg pa) and ‘portals’ (sgo) into which mundane rites have been ordered within a ninefold scheme termed theg pa rim [pa] dgu, which appears to be the verifiably oldest among them. Early, self-consciously identified g.Yung-drung sources already say something about the ‘ways’ and ‘portals’ for mundane rites. In the Mdo ’dus, four names and a sub-category within a ninefold scheme of ways are designated to cover these mundane rites:

14.4 Mundane Rites in Early g.Yung-drung Bon

As a historical Tibetan religion, g.Yung-drung Bon is overwhelmingly dedicated to universal salvation. Thus, virtually all its doctrines, institutions and practices closely resemble those of Tibetan-style Buddhism. It also resembles Tibetan-style Buddhism, and many other regional forms of Asian Buddhism for that matter, due to its syncretic incorporation of selected non-soteriological rites and narratives from the domain of mundane human concerns (the ‘folk religion’ or ‘nameless religion’ of various accounts). However, the divisions between and relative status accorded to both types of orientations – those devoted purely to mundane aims versus those aimed in any way at salvation – have never been confused in either religion. Thus, g.Yung-drung Bon emerged sometime around the eleventh century with the trappings of a historical religion of universal salvation, and from quite an early point, it included classificatory schemes aimed at incorporating and accommodating both mundane and soteriological orientations.115

Classificatory Schemes The content of early g.Yung-drung Bon schemes for classifying rites of mundane orientation can be compared with the rites used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and used to investigate

Phya-gshen, sNang-gshen, Srid-gshen and ’Phrulgshen, the four bon of causality, emerge from the portal of Chab-nag Srid-rgyud (Black Waters stream of phenomenal existence).116 The undated but later Gzer mig elaborated upon these as: The ‘Black Waters’ belong to the bon of the stream of existence. It purifies the stream of knowledge. By means of the many verbal accounts which arise there, much is accumulated for the good of living beings under these three (headings): the outer stream of death rites and funeral rites, the inner stream of sickness rites and ransom rites, and the middle stream of diagnosis rites and rituals. 117 The apparently smooth formulation of these earlier presentations of mundane rites within the ninefold scheme belie a great deal of complex cultural history, some of which we have insights into, but much of which remains obscure. For instance, the meaning of bon in the larger context of both passages is understood as ‘religious doctrine/teachings’ because of what it was also applied to across the entire ninefold scheme, including its purely soteriological divisions. Yet, when read just within the limited context above, and applied only to mundane rites, bon can easily retain its earlier

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meaning as ‘rite’ found in Old Tibetan documents and related early ritual manuscripts. It is in this ambivalence that we again glimpse the type of recontextualising efforts applied during the creation of certain fundamental building blocks of a ‘religion’ drawing upon a pool of pre-existing cultural materials related to mundane affairs. The precise origins and meaning of the unusual expression Chab-nag Srid-rgyud remain unclear. However, the chab and srid components in the expression are relatively common in chab srid and chu srid compounds in Old Tibetan documents. They mainly designate the sphere of ‘politics’ in general, and the spatial and territorial concept of the ‘realm’, ‘dominion’ and ‘state’ of the btsan po emperors, and also occur in divination texts.118 Moreover, both chab srid and chu srid forms of the compound and chab ‘water/river’ frequently occur directly together with the word g.yung drung which became the central ‘brand’ for the g.Yung-drung Bon religion. For example, in the Old Tibetan political inscription at rKong-po sDe-mo-sa, one can read that “[we] will be happy and [our] realm will resemble svastika” (bde skyid cing / chu srid g.yung drung dang ’dra bar).119 It is not difficult to see how Chab-nag Srid-rgyud was most likely derived as a reuse of Old Tibetan secular language and recontextualised into an environment of religious-technical vocabulary. What is more intriguing is the central metaphor of water and its flow. We do not know how that was derived, although it came to mean ‘purifying’ and signified a continuity of religious tradition in texts like the Gzi brjid. The same metaphor matches rather closely the conceptual framework for understanding flows and cycling of vitality within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. It may well relate back to the river course as the axis along which rites of life and death have been oriented since pre-eleventh century times.

brjid is patently soteriological in expression. Thus, it represents a different pool of older cultural materials based upon alternative logics and reference points and was derived from different source materials when compared with those evident in non-Buddhist Old Tibetan ritual texts. As for the remaining two ‘bon of causality’ referents, these are elaborated at an early point in the Gal mdo commentary, a text that Matthew Kapstein placed “roughly in the second half of the 12th century”.121 A further important point about this source is its claimed ‘revealer’, or better redactor, the physician and g. Yung-drung Bon gter ston Khu-tsha Zla-’Od. Unlike many early Bon gter ston, who remain shadowy figures in space and time, genuine historical witnesses allow us to place Khu-tsha Zla-’Od in southernmost Central Tibet, and perhaps also proto-Bhutan, during the mid- or late-twelfth century.122 His Gal mdo commentary treats the two ‘bon of causality’ referents within a system that became expanded into multiple ‘portals’ (sgo), and arranged under two categories. One category is Phya-gshen devoted to portals of gto rites, diagnosis (dpyad) and divination (mo). The other is sNang-gshen comprising portals of chanting and vocal techniques (gyer and gcong), thanksgiving (gtang rag), offering (mchod), elimination (sel) and ablution (khrus), liberation (thar) and ransom (glud), the rites related to life powers and fortunes (phya g.yang gnyan123), with drumming techniques (rnga thabs) specifically mentioned although not as a ‘portal’ of its own. Apart from mo in the Phya-gshen category, it is only within this twelfth century Gal mdo exposition of the sNang-gshen category that the most significant overlap with the rites of bon shamans in the Srid-pa’i lha cult occurs. In common, we find gyer, mchod, sel, khrus, glud, and phya g.yang rites, as well as drumming.

As David Snellgrove has noted, of the four original units of mundane rites in the earlier g.Yung-drung Bon ninefold scheme, the Srid-gshen unit covering death and funeral rites was later removed from the Black Waters portal and reclassified.120 Presumably, this was because the domain of death became perceived as related much more appropriately to a broader salvation orientation, as it certainly was in Buddhism. Of the remaining three units, ’Phrul-gshen is based upon tantric rites whose models and vocabulary are strongly Indic, and its content in later works such as the Gzi

By the time the sNang-gshen category is treated at great length in the fourteenth century Gzi brjid, its transparent earlier outline is almost unrecognisable, being swamped by ever more elaborate classifying schemes, mythical elements, hyperbole and rhetorical gestures to the soteriological cosmology and goals of its religious redactor(s). David Snellgrove’s assessment of the sNang-gshen section in the Gzi brjid was quite accurate when he stated, “even the original compiler of the work was already unfamiliar with many of the divinities and rites to which he refers. Thus

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Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

the account is not really coherent.”124 Only the ‘portals’ of sel (including smrang) and glud in the rambling Gzi brjid elaboration of sNang-gshen rites and myths now offer any points of connection with the rites of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, but these need to be carefully qualified. For example, while the words sel and smrang represent references in common to both systems, the comparison barely extends beyond that. The Gzi brjid account outlines twelve types of sel, encompassing a staggering 120 variations, for a very wide range of purposes. By comparison, Srid-pa’i lha rites feature only a single type of sel with its own lengthy smrang. This is the lam sel used to clear the path of descent for the lha down from the sky world, and which includes a few sub-sections also not mentioned in the Gzi brjid. Its mythical parallels can be found in old folk narratives of the progenitor emperor, with the primordial sel specialist being Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, a figure with the same purificatory role in the dGa’-thang manuscripts and in Srid-pa’i lha rabs, yet the Gzi brjid alludes to none of this. The Gzi brjid includes a description of the method (thabs) for sel. However, apart from mention of the most generic aspects occurring in most rites, such as a turbaned bon ritual specialist who chants a smrang, the former method shares nothing in common with sel used in Srid-pa’i lha festivals. In that latter context, sel is never a single rite, but a cycle or ritual ensemble of individual practices under the single heading sel, and including bsang, khrus, tshan, dud sel, invocation of special sman sel deities, the seasonal sound of bird calls, and so on. The characteristics of the Gzi brjid I just alluded to mean that critical caution is always required when its sNang-gshen section is used as a reference point for trying to interpret any mundane rites – a problem ignored in recent scholarship.125 The final point of comparison here is to look at things from the opposite perspective, that is, to consider rites which the Srid-pa’i lha cult contains but which are not present in any bon theg pa rim dgu scheme, and which cannot be explained by way of g.Yung-drung Bon. The obvious ritual and narrative complex present in and central to the Srid-pa’i lha cult, but absent in g.Yung-drung Bon, is revitalisation via the lha using the Lha zhu narrative, together with its associated technique of complex verbal ritual journeys to the sky, its cosmological orientations

as reference points, as well as its mythical precedents and specialists. Such ritual journey itineraries are already evident in the pre-eleventh century era prior to the advent of g.Yung-drung Bon, while around the eleventh century period, this theme is actually reflected in techniques for mundane rites recorded in the dGa’-thang manuscripts, as I will demonstrate in chapter 15. It is important to recognise that virtually all types of mundane rite techniques found in bon theg pa rim dgu schemes, such as the early and clear Phya-gshen and sNang-gshen groupings in the Gal mdo cited above, already feature in, or are derived from, earlier Old Tibetan documents, and the related dGa’-thang manuscripts and Sha slungs and Ste’u manuscript of the eleventh century period (see ch. 15). Thus, they were never any special preserve of g.Yungdrung Bon when it first appeared as a recognisable religious movement. Rather, they represent a heritage of older mundane rites and narratives available in a pool of cultural resources from which post-imperial era religious movements or autonomous ritual specialists could have drawn upon, utilised and continued to pass on as they saw fit within their respective frameworks. The very existence of the old dGa’-thang and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts from a period coincident with, yet without any known connection to, a then emerging g.Yung-drung Bon religion, underscores this completely. Exactly where this pool of older cultural resources existed across the wider region remains an open question for lack of evidence (see Reflections III). Since southernmost Central Tibet is the discovery area of these old manuscripts, it is certainly the only fixed reference point upon the entire Tibetan Plateau at which we can be sure beyond speculation that such cultural resources were available at an early stage.

The Tale of Dumb Bon While it is well beyond my scope and abilities to offer penetrating historical analysis of early developments in the g.Yung-drung Bon salvation religion, the evidence so far surveyed indicates various types of incorporations, adaptations and reuses of cultural materials related to older rites

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and narratives used to address mundane concerns. This insight itself is not novel.126 However, any historical traces that might yield possible insights into the agency and circumstances of such incorporations during an early period are indeed rare. Here I will discuss an example that appears intimately related in various ways to the content of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its background. A section in Shar-rdza bKra-shis rGyal-mtshan’s (1859-1935) g.Yung-drung Bon historiography Legs bshad mdzod (written in 1922), discusses early gter ston activity in southern Tibetan regions, including the adjacent areas of Nyang-stod, gTam-shul and lHo-brag. Such areas were a hive of activity for early gter ston, regardless of whether they identified themselves – or rather, were later identified or claimed by others – as “Buddhist” or “g.Yung-drung Bon” followers, and there are various figures among them who represent crossovers between these usually dogmatic religious identities. Some lHo-brag areas, such as mKho-mthing on the northern fringes of the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s distribution, ostensibly became ‘discovery’ locations that were virtually compulsory for several generations of these gter ston. The adjacent areas of Nyang-stod, gTam-shul and lHo-brag are of high interest to our inquiries for several key reasons. They encompass the discovery site of the dGa-thang manuscripts, and, as I will argue in chapter 15 and appendix J, lHo-brag was highly likely the origin place of the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript. All these manuscripts together represent the oldest such texts for mundane rites known from the entire Tibetan Plateau. These adjacent, southernmost central Tibetan districts demonstrably represent the region of proximate origins of most ‘bon’-identified content in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. They were also the lands settled until the mid-1300s by an obscure, scattered population known as the Shar Dung, who are the best candidates we have as historical transmitters of the cult’s ‘bon’-identified content southwards into the Himalayas. These topics related to the cult’s origins in such areas will be treated extensively in chapters 15 and 16. The Legs bshad mdzod account of the Shel brag ma ‘treasure’ of Nyang-stod is most revealing, even if the sources for the description Shar-rdza bKra-shis rGyal-mtshan drew upon

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currently remain unknown to us. The preface narrative to the Shel brag ma account inserts the usual cookie-cutter motif of an archaic ‘treasure’ concealment and appointment of a ‘treasure guardian’. Yet, in contrast with this, the following discovery narrative relates more realistically how a lame shepherd herding sheep and goats in Nyang-stod came across a remote cave containing old manuscripts sometime during the eleventh century. Apart from one minor detail, the account merely relates a rather ordinary, accidental find. Samten Karmay’s translation of this section of the Legs bshad mdzod omits the long and interesting list of texts representing purely mundane rites that were claimed to have been taken from this cave at the time, and subsequently transcribed.127 However, the ‘devil is in the detail’ here. A significant proportion of the material is classified as either ‘life rites’ (gson bon) or ‘death rites’ (gshin bon). In the original title or description list for the first sub-section,128 which is labelled ‘the portal of chants for life [rites]’ we find, amongst other texts, works dealing with the following range of topics: 1. An ‘origin narrative’ (smrang khungs) of the nine g.yen. 2. Glud ‘ransoms’. 3. ‘Rites’ (gto) for the lha Tshangs-pa. 4. ‘Rites’ (gto) for land and patriclan/agnatic deities (pho lha). 5. Rites termed ‘striving after/pursuing lha and btsun’.129 6. Also, logically following the above rites, there are ‘elimination rites for the lha’s path’ (lha’i lam sel), and sel rabs rites employing Artemisia (mkhan), ‘bird [calls]’ (bya) and ablutions, as well as lustrations with special waters (khrus tshan). 7. A procedure termed yo bcos (< gto bcos?) applied to subaquatic and lake beings (mtsho sman), and to a white conch deer.130 8. Various rites used to bargain for, or lure back the mobile vitality principle (bla bslu) and to gain g.yang productive force. I have gone into some detail here concerning the Shel brag ma ‘treasure’ to reveal just how many of these mundane ‘life rites’ claimed to have been rediscovered as ancient ‘religious treasures’ during the eleventh century in the Nyang-stod cave are actually represented within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Those I have selected to list above basically define much

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

of the core of the cult’s ritual activity in terms of its formal ‘bon’-identified narratives, either in a general way, or with remarkable specificity. As we have seen, to the best of my knowledge Sel rabs employing Artemisia and bird calls for purifying lha are completely unique to the cult, as are gto related to the lha Tshangs-pa, while the g.yen dgu also feature in the ’o gnyen rite in a manner closely related back to their place in Old Tibetan ritual texts. In addition to the above references, we can draw attention to certain names used in this g.Yung-drung Bon narrative. It may be significant that the purported ancient religious concealer of the Shel brag ma manuscripts was named Gyim-tsha rMa-chung. The old Gyim clan name continues to appear in records related to ancestral identities in the Srid-pa’i lha cult (chs. 4, 18), as does the rMa (and variants) element (ch. 18), which can also signify an old clan.131 Elsewhere in the Legs bshad mdzod, this same Gyim-tsha rMachung is titled lDe bon or lde bon. As is clear from many examples in the Old Tibetan corpus, the initial components in such bon ritual specialist titles can be read in two different ways. They either represent a place name or social identity, or they designate a function or specialisation. The lDe bon interpretation may signal he belonged to or served one of the obscure lDe dynasties (or clan lines) of southernmost Central Tibet. One of these is identified with dBye (g.Ye) east of Yar-lung, and this is the more likely given the Old Tibetan references in IOL Tib J 734 to a lDe gshen rMun-bu of Yar-khyim Sogs-[yar(/kar)] (or [Yar]-lungs Sogs-ka in the dGa’-thang texts), while another is identified with lHo-brag.132 Both of these regions also continually recur in records of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and as we will see in the following chapters, they are intimately linked with one major stratum of the cult’s origins. The latter lde bon interpretation would simply represent a synonym for lha bon (cf. ch. 3). Finally, the discovery site of the Shel brag ma is identified as Nyang-stod. As others have pointed out, such Nyang toponyms by themselves are ambivalent and could refer either to the uplands (stod) of Myang in gTsang, or of Nyang-po far to the east of lHo-kha.133 If Nyang-stod here refers to the former possibility, which seems likely given other evidence, then this is geographically proximate to all regions most closely related to the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s origins in southernmost

Central Tibet. Moreover, Nyang-stod is claimed by the Legs bshad mdzod author as the place of another very early student of g.Yung-drung Bon, an individual named mTshemi (also ’Tshe-mi) Shag-’bar.134 As discussed in chapter 5, mTshe-mi (and variants) was often used by writers of historiographical texts as a proper name, and interpreted as such in translations of religious narratives, yet the old wording mtshe mi is, like bon po, lha bon and sku gshen, clearly an early descriptive-technical designation for a type of ritual specialist in older ritual texts. This older meaning precedes the term’s conversion into a proper name by later religious editors. In the latter context, it literally means ‘Ephedra (mtshe) man’, referring to the specialist using that ancient ritual plant genus discussed in volume I. The Srid-pa’i lha cult not only features a range of different ritual uses of Ephedra, but some of its ritual specialists also still carry the hereditary title mtshe mi today, and have genealogies demonstrating this, which is an absolutely unique record to my knowledge. Unlike other common name forms for these ritual specialists, such as dBye gshen or lHo bon, in which a place or clan name can precede a technical designation, the old mtshe mi title is not preceded by such referents. Almost every known mtshe mi reference in older texts for mundane rites, as well as in the earliest narrative sources mentioning mtshe mi, have their provenance in southernmost Central Tibet. In summary, many of the name references given in the brief Shel brag ma narrative are closely cognate with what was evident already in an early, local culture of mundane rites known from southernmost Central Tibet. Some of the comparisons in this chapter, together with chapters 15-16, leave us in no doubt that the same earlier local culture of mundane rites is also that preserved extensively in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and that the cult itself has a significant part of its origins in that same region. We can correlate this well with the aforementioned list of titles or descriptions of mundane ‘life rites’ said to comprise one section of the Shel brag ma. Should one accept the twentieth century claims of Shar-rdza bKra-shis rGyal-mtshan and his unknown sources, that all those mundane rites in the Shel brag ma ‘treasure’ belong to the orthodox gter ma corpus of g.Yung-drung Bon, and

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thus must be very ancient religious teachings that were composed and hidden in prehistoric times, and once again revealed to become foundations of that salvation religion? In my opinion, we have very good reasons not to. The principal reason being the existence of contemporary ‘independent witnesses’ from the same region in the form of the dGa’-thang and Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts discussed in the following chapter. They contain materials closely related or identical to those on the Shel brag ma list above, but which we know have neither g.Yung-drung Bon identity, nor gter ma features and claims associated with any of their content. Moreover, the presence of overlapping ritual and narrative material found in the pre-eleventh century Dunhuang manuscripts far off to the north-west of the Tibetan Plateau, and similarly without any reference to g.Yung-drung Bon or gter ma, confirms this perspective. Recently, Samten Karmay compared a myth section from a dGa’-thang manuscript with gter ma material claimed to have been discovered by gShen-chen Klu-dga’, the pioneering g.Yung-drung Bon revealer of religious treasure whose life Karmay and others date with remarkable historical precision to 995-1035 CE. Describing the closeness of the two sources, Karmay concluded, “The contents of the Dga’ thang manuscripts may have provided material for Gshen chen in the writing of his texts.”135 Robert Mayer and Cathy Cantwell came to the same conclusion regarding some content in the early g.Yung-drung Bon tantric text Ka ba nag po.136 In addition to all details discussed above, other aspects in the Shel brag ma account tend to confirm suggestions of reuse of non-religious ritual texts by early treasure revealers to compose new works. For example, when one surveys all the texts mentioned in the entire group of g.Yung-drung Bon ‘treasures’ recounted by Shar-rdza bKra-shis rGyal-mtshan, it is obvious the Shel brag ma is deviant due to the volume and variety of material dedicated to purely mundane rites it contains. This is mooted in the ‘transmission’ section of the narrative, where it states the Shel brag ma was known as the ‘Dumb Bon’ (lkugs pa’i bon) due to its obscurity.137 Still other collections of mundane rites which have been drawn into the orbit of g.Yung-drung Bon contain obvious clues that betray the process of their incorporation. A case in

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point is the Gnyan ’bum collection, which exists both within and outside of organised g.Yung-drung Bon contexts. It was claimed by Shar-rdza bKra-shis rGyal-mtshan to have been ‘revealed’ in far western Tibet, yet there are no independent witnesses to demonstrate what this twentieth century author is claiming happened some eight or nine centuries prior to his day. In fact, the Gnyan ’bum collection has an internal mythical content unrelated to the far western Tibetan Plateau. Instead, it is rather strongly connected with the Amdo region of the far eastern Tibetan Plateau, where these texts and the rites they contain are found recorded in manuscripts belonging to a tradition of local ritual specialists.138 The Shel brag ma treasure may well represent materials once recovered from a hidden cache of old ritual manuscripts accidentally found in a remote cave by a roving eleventh century shepherd. This part of the story is plausible because we have good documentary evidence that manuscripts have been both hidden and then found once again in caves upon the Tibetan Plateau. But that is all one would want to accept about Shar-rdza bKra-shis rGyal-mtshan’s historiographical claims without far more contextual information to hand. Rather, we know the type of ritual material reflected in the Shel brag ma title list represented an older milieu of rites and narratives dedicated to mundane goals that was present in local settings across southernmost Central Tibet around a millennium before present. Over time, selected aspects of this material were adopted by various agents with different intentions and strategies, and later transmitted in several parallel contexts that survived, and that are still detectable today. One of these vectors of adaptation and transmission in the region has been the cult of Srid-pa’i lha and its early non-religious exponents, which have continued as a tradition of actual practice until today. Another was the early culture of ‘revealed treasures’ fostered by certain pioneers of the g.Yung-drung Bon religion. While some of this early gter ma culture seems to be recalled in later tales of unknown provenance, we might gain a few glimpses of its workings in context in certain records. The details on Phya-gshen and sNang-gshen rites in Khu-tsha Zla-’Od’s mid- to late-twelfth century Gal mdo commentary may give indications of how the type of content listed for the Shel brag ma was generally systematised into g.Yung-drung Bon,

Bons – A lter nati ve R euses of Older R ites, Myths a nd La nguage

as well as where and when that might have occurred. It is highly significant that such references lead us back again to southernmost Central Tibet as an arena in which older, non-religious rites for mundane goals circulated prior to, or concurrent with, the religious productions of g.Yungdrung Bon ‘treasure revealers’. The import of this same geographical arena in relation to the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s origins and content will be strongly emphasised in the two subsequent chapters. While the Srid-pa’i lha cult offers an example of a localised, indigenous tradition following an independent development parallel to g.Yung-drung Bon, other cases along the extended eastern Himalayas reveal that elsewhere such localised traditions with their own content and logics have also become historically combined with content conveyed via that missionary religion. The Naxi dtô-mbà ritual culture appears to be one such case. Scholars of the Naxi have already briefly compared the rite complex used by dtô-mbà with the content of the bon theg pa rim dgu classification in g.Yung-drung Bon.139 Their conclusions are that specific mundane rites of the type found in g.Yung-drung Bon’s Phya-gshen and sNang-gshen categories were the only bonidentified content overlapping with dtô-mbà rites. This is identical to my own findings for the rites of bon shamans. On the other hand, we have seen that both bon shamans and dtô-mbà use a near identical ninefold scheme to internally organise rite techniques in their ceremonies which is not evident in g.Yung-drung Bon to my present knowledge – and, if it is, then its origins are not any innovation of that religion. Moreover, various specialists of Tibetan and Naxi texts have remained unconvinced of any older transmission of material from earlier Tibetan manuscripts into later dtômbà ones. 140 What processes could have resulted in such overlaps and disjunctions? g.Yung-drung Bon agents first incorporated certain existing traditions of rites and myths from Tibetan Plateau margin regions like the extended eastern Himalayas; whether they came directly from Old Tibetan sources or from later reworked texts is of little import to the process. The absorbed material was then claimed as ‘eternal Bon’ heritage by way of mechanisms such as gter ma revelation. Related to this claim, redacted ‘religious’ versions of the same types of rites and myths were later

reintroduced into any Himalayan and Tibetan Plateau environments visited by missionary g.Yung-drung Bon clerics, including periphery areas from which some of their content may have originally been ‘discovered’ and recycled. This dynamic of re-enculturation – the so-called ‘pizza effect’, and the ‘inverted pizza effect’141 – are both familiar and common throughout the world where missionary religions exist together with popular local cults. Such re-enculturation processes have probably played a far greater role in generating the content and distribution of what is often claimed as “indigenous Tibetan” ritual culture than has ever been explored or admitted. Mundane rites such as glud give a good example. The earliest, pre-eleventh century, non-religious glud in Tibetan language sources are known only from manuscripts recovered in Tibetan Plateau margin regions, while post-twelfth century they began cropping up everywhere since they were spread by missionary lamas whose religions had appropriated them. This has given the impression glud must have been a coherent and universal practice in ancient times right across the whole Plateau, although we have no direct evidence of this at all.

14.5 Bons and bons, Plural Current scholarly consensus on the g.Yung-drung Bon religion places its self-conscious and formalised emergence in a general timeframe beginning around the eleventh century era, or at least roughly coincident with the emergence of similar Tibetan Buddhist sects. Compared with this, although aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult have a demonstrably considerable time depth – which may increase when manuscript paper is dated – its exact origins are mostly unknown and probably for now unknowable. Yet, the precise age of either phenomenon is not necessarily relevant to the hypothesis I began with, and which, in my opinion, the preceding comparisons and analysis, and more generally the materials discussed throughout this book, demonstrate. If the Srid-pa’i lha cult is to be classified as a form of ‘Bon’ or ‘bon’, then it is neither a lineal descendant from, nor a ‘heterodox’ derivative of the g.Yung-drung Bon religion. Rather, it represents a parallel, albeit completely non-soteriological phenomenon with its own trajectory through time and space,

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and one in the hands of various autonomous agents who used and adapted a specific combination of older cultural resources for their own purposes. This last point is certainly something the agents behind the Srid-pa’i lha cult do share with the agents who brought both g.Yung-drung Bon and Tibetan-style Buddhism into existence – their cultural creativity in reuse of older terminology, techniques, narratives and identities. In sum, if my hypothesis is accepted, it will be best from now on to carefully think about and talk of Bons or bons in the plural when addressing ‘bon’-identified phenomena. There is no necessity to refer to the organised g.Yung-drung Bon religion, unless that movement is proven to be relevant using critical scholarship in any instance being studied. Finally, a frequent invocation populating the scholarly literature until now is of a generalised “Bon tradition” or “Bon religion” which implicitly encompasses different cultural and religious phenomena across time and space. This stance should now be abandoned as misleading and unproductive unless, that is, it can be justified with actual evidence and critical analysis. To my knowledge, this has never been the case in any scholarly study to date. The same applies to related appeals to “continuities” over time, that rhetorically support the idea of a generalised “Bon tradition” or “Bon religion”. Continuities are everywhere to be found in the cultural history of this region. They alone are nothing special. Rather, it is distinctions and agency in relation to them that are important. What scholars need to carefully establish is the exact nature of apparent continuities, the specific purposes they were once related to, and the agents responsible for them. The following chapter will engage in such an analysis.

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15.

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

15.1 Hypothesis The threefold hypothesis in this chapter is based upon a review of three texts for mundane rites recorded in recently discovered manuscripts from the eleventh century era. These texts introduced in chapter 1 represent the oldest examples of mundane rites so far located upon the actual Tibetan Plateau. The three rites I will examine include the rnel dri ’dul ba in a manuscript discovered at the dGa’-thang shrine in gTam-shul, and two others which I term ste’u and sha slungs in a manuscript firmly dated to the eleventh century that we can demonstrate originated in the same general area of southernmost Central Tibet (see appx. J). The main hypothesis here is that the set of cosmological concepts and reference points, rite techniques, mythical identities and much of the language occurring in these three eleventh century texts clearly represent the oldest known ritual culture that was precursor to the living Srid-pa’i lha cult I observed and recorded. This point thus builds upon, and gives a broader context to, the many unique connections between these texts and the cult’s content already demonstrated throughout volume I. A second point is based upon the very close geographical proximity of these three early texts to the current distribution zone of the cult. This, along with distributions of cultural patterns, and consideration of comparative ethnographic examples from the cult, allows assignment of the specific cosmology and rites they all share to a defined cultural milieu localised within a contiguous interface between the southern Tibetan Plateau margins around lHo-brag, and the eastern Himalayan highlands around north-east Bhutan. A final point is that the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites contain significant reuse of material from earlier ritual

texts recorded in Old Tibetan language, and that they, together with the cult that was later descended from them, represent an on-going series of cultural transformations occurring within the same geographical zone over more than a millennium. The first of the three old rites I analyse here, rnel dri ’dul ba, is primarily concerned with the post-mortem status of deceased foetuses or miscarried infants, and in some cases their mothers who die during childbirth or from post-partum complications, and how this impacts upon the living. The second and third rites, ste’u and sha slungs, have the combined goals of posthumously calling new human life into the world following deaths, as well as protecting the germinal beings once they have arrived. All three rites deal with mundane concerns, all are devoid of any concrete references to either the Tibetan Buddhist or the g.Yung-drung Bon salvation religions, and all no doubt belong to a milieu of autonomous ritual specialists operating within local communities. In the following study of these three old rites, my purpose is not to painstakingly translate each text in full. Rather, I aim to give a fine-grained accounting of major sections of each text to reveal their cosmological framing, ritual phases and cultural logics, as well as to appreciate the nature of the transition language between Old Tibetan and Classical Tibetan in which they have been composed. Read together, the results from analysis of these three texts indicate what amounts to a local representation of a cycle of human existence, at least to the extent that the concepts involved were applied in the rites under study. This can be fruitfully compared with ideas about a cycle of human existence occurring in the cult (see fig. 22), as well as further along the extended eastern Himalayas.

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Appendix J provides an essential compliment to this chapter, and adds explanatory force to the content analysis for demonstrating the hypothesis. It presents a range of evidence showing that the old manuscripts recording rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites share a set of close similarities with manuscripts recording revitalisation rites used in the cult of Srid-pa’i lha. All these texts appear to belong to a common, geographically specific manuscript culture. The appendix also sets out evidence for establishing geographical provenance for the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript. I consider this manuscript was most likely composed in southernmost Tibet. It came from a zone of approximately 100 kilometres diameter, encompassing the area of the dGa’-thang shrine to the north and the highland valleys of north-eastern Bhutan and adjacent hill regions of the Monyul Corridor to the south. These latter are all areas where the cult of Srid-pa’i lha is based upon similar manuscripts.

15.2 rNel dri ’dul ba and its Cultural Background The dGa’-thang manuscript described by its publishers as Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, or Methods of Subduing rNel dri, is the longest ritual text discovered at the gTam-shul site, with forty-seven surviving folio sides. It records a collection of antecedent crisis tales and models for conducting exorcism and purification rites specifically to combat posthumous possessions appearing in the wake of culturally problematic deaths. Such deaths include those of mothers but especially of their infants occurring during childbirth, or in utero due to what we would now medically define as septic abortion or miscarriage, and miscarriages induced by certain violent accidents, for example, being hit by a rock or falling from a precipice or horse are cited in the rnel dri tales.1 Samten Karmay accurately described the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs as related to “special purification rites” in cases of unfortunate deaths.2 Brandon Dotson correctly understood that these rites are not directly concerned with the dead or their disposal as such, although the antecedent narratives cite deaths, and in a few cases briefly refer to death rites as general causal and sequential framing references. Rather, the rites benefit the living by way of purifying surviving kin and spouses, appeasing deities who preside over

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social communities, averting reprisals by a deceased’s family against another party, and so forth.3 At the end of one rnel dri ’dul ba antecedent narrative, the rite’s purpose is explicitly described as being ‘In order that the dead do not pursue the living’,4 while in another tale a bon mo ritual specialist is described as one who can ‘bring a dead person back to life.’5 Thus, despite death triggering the original problem, life and the living are very much and ultimately in focus here. This is one of various points the rnel dri ’dul ba rites share in common with the rhetoric in the old Ste’u text studied in a subsequent section, for it, too, explicitly states that when death is concealed with the proper rites this benefits the living, in the form of gaining new, young lives (see below). An identical rhetoric occurs in Srid-pa’i lha cult texts based upon the Ya-ngal rites in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs.6 All these examples represent a cultural pattern strongly evident until today right along the extended eastern Himalayan highlands in which unfortunate deaths – particularly of infants – create problems for the living, and for whose benefit ritual specialists must intervene with specific rites. Examples of this pattern will be cited below. The ca. eleventh century rnel dri ’dul ba rites occur in the historical context of both older and later rites related to them. Problematic deaths associated with the term dri were already a concern expressed in Old Tibetan texts discovered at Dunhuang, although the precise meaning of Old Tibetan dri is not yet completely established. Dotson understood dri in such formulations as dri ru bkrongs, drir grongs or drir nongs to mean ‘violence’, but also noted that “violent death seems to be almost personified by the term dri, and is certainly personified by noxious beings such as the btsan dri, a particular type of demon.”7 There are dri bon ritual specialists mentioned in Old Tibetan ritual texts, just as there are dri bon cited in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs. Modified forms of some unknown old rites related to dri, or at very least recycling of cultural materials from them, also continued in the later g.Yung-drung Bon religion, although they became reframed within a formal religious context. These g.Yung-drung Bon rites include transformation of older vocabulary, and this has frequently confused observers. The orthography of dri changed to gri in later sources, and hence often became understood

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literally as ‘knife’ and ‘murder’.8 Also, bdur found in most of the Old Tibetan texts for death rites became written ’dur by the g.Yung-drung Bon-po, who then specifically assimilated the verb ’dur ba to the verb ’dul ba, with ’dur in its nominal forms often also assigned to ‘funeral rites’ which obscures the fact that no funerals per se need be involved. David Snellgrove – who cautiously preferred to treat these verbs separately – already drew attention to this class of rites, which were explained by his expert Tibetan Bon-po informants as “supressing troublesome spirits that return from the dead, especially those who have been murdered; for this purpose there is a ritual known as gri ’dur byed pa.”9 Samten Karmay and others describe both ’dur ba and gri ’dur as being used “to perform the posthumous evocation ritual of the killed” and “for exorcising the spirits that cause unnatural death”, while the same rites termed ’dur come to be more generally described as some form of “taming” by assimilating ’dul to ’dur.10 The Old Tibetan and later g.Yung-drung Bon contexts and terminologies related in certain ways to rnel dri ’dul ba rites are not identical to them, and traces of transformations in vocabulary and concepts across a ca. eleventh century watershed era are everywhere to be found. Thus, anachronism is certainly a methodological concern in relation to relevant g.Yung-drung Bon sources written in Classical Tibetan, not least of all because they currently lack any reliable provenance information.11 I therefore eschew them in my analysis of rnel dri ’dul ba. Our initial problem is gaining terminological clarity for rnel and dri and the rite name rnel dri ’dul ba. Earlier, these words had been understood by Dotson as “to ‘subdue’ (’dul) […] various types of impurities (rnel, dri [ma]),”12 presumably reading rnel in relation to mnal/mnol, while Karmay understood dri ’dul ba as the “taming of knifed deaths”13 by applying the later g.Yung-drung Bon meaning for gri ’dur to it. Neither explanation is convincing in the context of the rnel dri ’dul ba narratives. I have never seen the word rnel attested in any other Tibetan language document, and uncertainties involving the Old Tibetan meaning of dri have been signalled above.

What is certain in the text under consideration is that a rnel dri directly subject to ’dul ba (‘suppressing’, ‘taming’, ‘converting’, and so forth) must refer to some being endowed with sentience since that is overwhelmingly what the verb ’dul ba applies to in other contexts. There are occasionally different types of dri signalled within the text,14 but here I am only drawing upon those accounts concerning rnel dri that represent a high majority of the cases occurring in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs. Accordingly, rnel, dri (or gri) and rnel dri (or rnel gri) are the specific designations given to deceased human victims towards whom rnel dri ’dul ba rites are directed. In the text, we find them described as ‘child dri’ (bu dri/gri), ‘female child dri’ (bu dri/gri mo) and ‘female rnel dri’ (rnel dri/gri mo). In context, for example, the narratives describe them in scenarios: ‘In the country Dung-yul, at Dung-stod, a girl of Dung, a rnel, died’15 or when the infant becomes possessed and is specifically named as such, ‘The name of that female dri was rnel dri dGab-mar-ma’, 16 and so forth. Here one can note that almost all the score or so of rnel dri antecedent tales feature women who are pregnant and their unborn foetuses or babies who die of symptoms matching septic abortion or accident-induced miscarriage. On the one hand, the recurrent parallel phrasing bu dri/gri with rnel dri/gri and bu dri/ gri mo with rnel dri/gri mo in text passages strongly suggest that rnel stands for ‘infant’ or ‘child’. On the other hand, it is conspicuous that within those narrative texts in the collection that place more emphasis upon the pregnant mother as the victim – albeit that her foetus must also die – we only find the term dri and not rnel dri.17 When I discussed the above points with Joanna Bialek, a linguist-lexicographer of Old Tibetan, she suggested 18 that the otherwise unattested rnel may be the result of a specific type of little understood developmental pattern evident for Tibetan word formation. Various attested examples of this include rdo, rde’u, rdel ‘stone/projectile’, ba, be’u, bel ‘cow/ calf ’ and spra, spre, spre’u, sprel ‘ape/monkey’, and so on. Thus, we might consider the development na, ne’u, rnel, in which na means ‘age, stage of life’, and diminutive ne’u literally ‘little age/stage of life’, meaning a ‘young one’, ‘foetus/ baby/infant’. The r superfix on rnel may appear out of place

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in this development. However, its occurrence as both a substitute for other superfix signs in conventional spellings and as a novel addition to words is common throughout rGa’thang manuscripts, as well as other ritual texts from the same geographical region. 19 Moreover, lexicons attest the superfix-bearing form sne’u is a synonym for bu tsha ‘child, boy’, with an Old Tibetan occurrence of it attested as well.20 Further evidence comes from the approximately contemporary Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript treated in sections to follow, and in which the cognate term ne’u zhon ‘young ones’ derived from na gzhon 21 features centrally within a set of cosmological references that are very close in certain respects to those found in rnel dri ’dul ba rites. Based upon the evidence cited above, in this study I am provisionally accepting that rnel means ‘infant’ in the text concerned. In the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, the agency behind a rnel victim becoming a dri is almost always assigned to members of the srin and sri classes of spirit. In the narratives, these beings are not some generic or universal agents, but rather very localised figures associated with – and named after – the residence places of their victims in the terrestrial environment, or at sites where the victims engage in certain activities.22 The same pattern for identifying troublesome srin who require ‘ransom’ (glud) rites is already found in the Old Tibetan documents, and I will return to this point below. Unlike any known Old Tibetan sources, the srin and sri in rnel dri ’dul ba narratives are almost exclusively and intimately related to unborn children and their mothers. Srin and sri are said to ‘infiltrate’ (zhugs) the bodies – but most specifically the uterus – of women. They cause ‘death’ (grongs, gum, lcebs) and ‘mishap’ (nongs) to a mother’s foetuses or babies who then become dri, and they also ‘drag off’ (drongs) their victims to become dri. One local srin even has the name Burkun, literally ‘Robber of Children’.23 The srin which specifically target child victims in the rnel dri ’dul ba narratives are closely cognate with the sri, and likely they are variants of the same older word and class of beings. The more rarely involved sri are ancient and dangerous beings from under the earth whose profile is more well defined in the Old Tibetan sources than the already somewhat generic srin. Old Tibetan texts state that ‘sri having risen from the earth appeared’, identify them as ‘sri thieves in the earth’, while ‘up above one

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offers to lha, and down below one suppresses sri’.24 However, the very close connection between sri/srin and children becomes strongly evident for the first time in rnel dri ’dul ba narratives. Aspects of this cultural complex were preserved in the later Classical Tibetan vocabulary, with sri’u and sri’u phru positively referring to ‘a human child’ (mi’i phru gu). Yet, sri’u is also attested with a negative meaning much closer to the cases we are dealing with in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, namely for a ‘woman whose child dies after birth’. 25 In older Classical Tibetan ritual literature, a somewhat cognate technical term chung sri, ‘a sri of a young one’ (chung ngu’i sri), occurs although it refers to a child victim and not a mother, and it is a clear synonym of rnel dri. 26 A specific class of rites to suppress sri for protection of infants do exist within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and are also known from other older ‘bon’-identified manuscripts used by autonomous ritual specialists for mundane rites.27 There are also cognate terms for rite techniques in earlier and later texts, including sri khung for a ritual pit dug in the earth to trap sri, which is cited in rnel dri ’dul ba rites and later texts.28 Moreover, the words sri’u and sri’u phru are probably the earlier basis for the spoken expression sifu or seefu used today by speakers of East Bodish languages and the Tibetic language Chochangacha within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Both forms sifu and seefu designate rites in which the ancestral sky lha descend to the ritual ground to impregnate women who are otherwise unable to conceive a child (e.g., see chs. 9, 10). To my present knowledge, this whole cultural complex associating unborn and very young infants with dri/sri/srin in a ritual context can be traced back only as far as the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs and its cultural-historical milieu.29 In summary, one can further note that in the antecedent tales of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript, there is an overall pattern for deploying terminology. The initial term used for a deceased infant victim is always rnel, while dri designates them after death when they become problematic, subject to ’dul ba and dispatched away from the human world, and rnel dri identifies them in relation to more general discussion points, such as when their names are cited, their fates mentioned, and so on. The dri status is designated as problematic in various ways, but two verbal markers are most common, dri yar ba ‘wandering/rambling dri’, and dri

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

ma btul ‘unsuppressed dri’. If one accepted the suggestions made for rnel above, then rites described as rnel dri ’dul ba can be understood to address ‘young ones/infants’ (rnel) who die violently or in culturally problematic ways. This renders them susceptible to capture and control by srin and sri, and, as resulting dri, they ramble around posthumously precipitating problems, and thus must be subjected to ritual manipulation. In that case, rnel dri occurring as a compound noun is best understandable as ‘wandering bad death infant spirit’ in the specific context addressed here.

15.3 Sequences and Cosmological Framing in rNel dri ’dul ba The Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs records a whole series of rite techniques performed in part by the ritual specialist A bo or pha Ya-ngal Gyim-kong. His unique identity and purification practices were all carried over from the dGa’-thang manuscripts into the Sel rabs cycle of rites used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and Ya-ngal was discussed as one of the cult’s main initiator figures in chapter 4. Since my present interest is to compare the overall cosmology expressed in rnel dri ’dul ba rites with that evident in the ste’u and sha slungs rites, and to assess all three as possible early precursors for the cosmology of the cult, I will focus upon the first and by far longest and most elaborated rite within the collection. This covers the initial eleven folios of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript. My discussion will also refer to several subsequent and parallel rnel dri narratives for clarification. The aim is not to detail every single procedure in the text, but rather to illustrate the basic operations, orientations and agencies a rnel dri ’dul ba rite entails to accurately illuminate the cosmological framing. The first rite of the rnel dri ’dul ba series has no title, narrative or named victim since the initial folios recording its mythical precedent are missing. While we lack the crisis narrative justifying performance of the rite, we know the subject was a female infant victim,30 who almost certainly died as an aborted or miscarried foetus following the overwhelming pattern in other rnel dri tales within the collection. The overall structure and individual components of all

the rite sequences are plainly evident in the surviving materials, yet the language in places is often obscure with my proposed solutions accordingly annotated.

First Phase – Ya-ngal Rites The initial rnel dri ’dul ba rite sequence is divided into two major phases. The first is presided over by pha Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, and the second by a dri bon (also gri bon) named Ra-ljags sKyi-rgyal. Between these two phases, a bridging text indicates the main character of each by stating, ‘That above was the purification of a rnel gri mo, it is completed. [section break] This below is the method for suppressing rnel dri’.31 The first purification phase includes a ransom rite (blus) repeated several times, a ritual journey itinerary transiting between eleven zones of cosmic space, within nine of which a series of elaborate procedures summarised as ‘purification’ (bsangs) must be repeated while undertaking the journey, and then a final procedure for closure once the initial goal has been reached. The itinerary of the vertical, upward ritual journey is of prime interest here. Various instructional cues in the text leave no doubt this is a verbal journey that must be chanted aloud at every stage. Initially, a list of ransom items is enumerated for presentation to the offending spirit agent who caused the victim to become a dri. In this case, it is a srin named Zo-zo Ring-po. Thus, the departure point for the journey in the tale in question is the location of this spirit. While we lack this information due to missing folios, according to the pattern established in all other rnel dri tales within the collection these srin are always identified within the terrestrial locations of their victims (see below), and in some tales this is very specifically given, for example, at the boundary between alpine slates and meadow. The process commences as follows: Offer [ransom items] into the hands of srin Zo-zo Ring-po. Ransoming [the victim] from the hands of srin Zo-zo Ring-po, Transit the doors that are upwards, the types of which are The doorsill of the pass,

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The bamboo door of the sheep, The pine door [of] the horse head, and The long water reeds32 [door], and depart.33 Following this, a range of beneficial ritual aids is gained to expedite the journey. One must then ‘step upwards over the first doorsill and depart.’34 The language of ‘door’ (sgo) architecture here, and how one ‘passes’ or ‘steps over’ (rgal) the ‘doorsills’ or ‘thresholds’ (ma them) in traditional houses – later also the ‘narrow path’ (’phrang) leading to/from a house door is included – is entirely commonplace terminology and imagery from the domestic sphere. There are nine such ‘doorsills’ or ‘thresholds’ to pass over or step across, each numbered, with movement between and through them continually upwards,35 to reach a final point. Crossing each doorsill, one enters a new spatial level each time in this upward series. These nine levels are generally coded by colour and substance, have a familiar topography and ‘people’ (myi bo) in them, and sometimes disturbing images are associated with them. The ontological status of these levels is not at all obvious from the text itself. For example, they could be so many ‘versions’ of the regular world as it appears in the troubled and distorted perception of a rnel dri being. This theme is encountered in another dGa’-thang text, the Byol rabs, in which a man living in the world is troubled by ‘bad omens’ (ltas ngan) which distort reality for him, and we find Old Tibetan expressions for worldly ‘calamities’ used in that narrative as well.36 This Byol rabs is a case in which a ransom is deployed to free a victim experiencing such perceptions, and thus appears similar to the first rnel dri ’dul ba rite. These nine levels might also be representations of the type of defiled world resulting from the circumstances of death giving rise to a rnel dri, and the impure presence of its subsequent uncontrolled wandering. The main defilement concern is explicitly stated to be bodily f luids and matter released into the world during deaths of expectant mothers and their foetuses or new-borns, when conditions such as septic abortions or miscarriages induced by violent accidents occur leading to the advent of a rnel dri. This theme is reiterated time and again in parallel antecedent tales throughout the rnel dri ’dul ba rite series, for example:

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The mother’s head was facing upwards. The child’s head was facing downwards. The pus shot out like a [bolting] horse. The blood welled up, groaning like an ox. The placenta was twisted in the covering.37 The blood spread out, tsa ra ra. Defilement of the lha melted the glaciers. Defilement of the lakes penetrated to their depths. Up above, the lha were unworshipped. Down below, the dri were unsuppressed.38 Thus, the world is ‘defiled’ (bnol > mnol) literally from top to bottom, which cuts off vital connections between living persons and their lha, and again, we see it is the living who are motivated to perform such rites since they are affected and will be its prime beneficiaries. The Ya-ngal ritual specialist performs the main rites for ‘purification of defilement’ (mnol bsangs) up the vertical axis, and leading eventually to the lha. Regardless of how one views the nature of the nine levels of the itinerary, the ritual specialist must perform purification rites each time in preparation for passing to the next level within the ascending ninefold series. These transitions through the levels are expressed using the image of moving out of the door of a village house and closing it behind oneself: With the occurrence of each included procedure, Take a step out towards the narrow path, and Say “Open the door which is like bone-white conch! Open the door that is like a [black] ink inscription! Open the door of the copper narrow path and iron narrow path!” And break each narrow path wooden stave. In each instance, invite the Ya-ngal and his concomitant purification of defilement.39 The doors are thus encountered, opened, traversed and a wooden stave is broken to obstruct them once again. This is clearer still in parallel rnel dri tales. For instance, in the sKyi-ro narrative Ya-ngal Gyim-kong opens the way to the lha and then:

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

Each of the doors is traversed. The door of turquoise bamboo. The door of copper[-coloured] wild rose. The door of fir tree.40 Lay down obstructions41 for the thirteen doors.42 Note that the ‘doors’ are made of various types of wood, sometimes colour-coded, with a total of nine doors for some versions of the rite and thirteen doors in other versions. Furthermore, in a list of procedures at the beginning of the second phase of this first and most elaborate rnel dri ’dul ba rite one of them is termed ‘cutting off the narrow path of dri’ (dri ’phrang bcad pa). As we will see shortly, the procedure of breaking wooden staves is also used for the final closure of the entire Ya-ngal sequence. When the ninth and final doorsill at the end of this first phase of the rite has been crossed, the itinerary then states: The deceased, an infant (rnel), died. Deliver it. Deliver it to the sman. When it is understood that [crossing] doorsill nine is completed, The female child dri is ready for the sman. Its pus is ready for lustrations.43 Concerning ritual requisites for this, excavate a hole for each doorsill, nine of them. [Use] nine rough stones.44 [Use] nine billets of wood. Place each stone and a billet [in/at each hole?]. Break each wooden stave.45 The method of accumulating [the requisites] together with the method of laying down [the obstructions] are one. That above was the purification of a female infant dri; it is complete.46 In other rnel dri tales within the collection featuring different ritual specialists, the same overall ritual process ensues, but with a clearer account of certain details of purification rites that merely occur in the Ya-ngal versions as a single word or phrase. For instance, in several listings of his rite techniques and requisites, a Ya-ngal is said to use nine

smoke types (dud rgu)47 and ‘live birds’ (gson ma)48 as part of upward purification of defiled lha. In the [Yar-]ungs Sogs-ka tale we read more fully: The lde gshen rMun-bu and The tshe myi rMu-rgyal Used thirteen types of wood, A large surface of woven/plaited material 49 and Bamboo to make a long wall.50 With the nine son trees (shing bu), they made wooden billets. By way of thirteen live birds (gson ma), They purified the lha upwards. They suppressed the sri downwards. They opened the way for the coming of the lha. They shone a bright light for the lord. Humans and lha met up. Lords and subjects met up.51 The nine smoke types mentioned elsewhere, are produced by burning wooden staves cut from the ‘nine son trees’ cited here. This ritual tree classification has been preserved in the Srid-pa’i lha cult as part of the Sel rabs cycle whose primordial initiator is Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, as discussed in chapter 4. In that context we find the ‘nine son trees of valleys’ (lung shing bu dgu), together with the ‘nine father trees of sunny slopes’ (bdag shing pha dgu), and ‘nine mother trees of shady slopes’ (srib shing ma dgu) already known from Old Tibetan references.52 Thus, the ‘nine son tree’ reference is unique to the cult and the dGa’-thang texts featuring Ya-ngal rites. The term gson ma here literally means ‘a live one’ applied to birds,53 and various species of gson ma birds used during rites frequently have something attached to them. This becomes clearer in the dBye-mo Yul-grugs tale: The lha were driven off, driven into the sky. The wild geese vanished, vanished into the lake. The dBye gshen mKhar-bu, Attaching a flat bell (gshang) of gold54 To a vulture gson ma, Opened the portal of the sky again. Upwards, the lha were purified again.55

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Some of these same lines and motifs occur in Sel rabs texts featuring Ya-ngal in the Srid-pa’i lha cult.56 Very similar descriptions for using gson ma and bird wings – perhaps still on living birds – occur in Old Tibetan texts recording death rites, apparently to convey the ‘bad news’ of death and prepare an open path (lam) into the sky for a psychopomp animal.57 Using all these and still other rite techniques, the Ya-ngal’s ever upward ritual journey through the levels arrives somewhere beyond the ninth level. The second phase of suppression/conversion rites that now commence inform us where the journey ultimately leads.

Second Phase – Dri Bon Rites At the commencement of the second phase, a series of episodes described as ‘explanatory words of dri suppression’ (dri gdul ba’i tshig bshad) follow in the text. The series features the performance of a dri bon specialist. He commences his work up at the highest or ninth level – coded ‘gold’ or ‘yellow’ (gser) in this instance of the rite – and up as far as which Ya-ngal has already purified. Then the dri bon works his way downwards through the coded levels in the reverse order to that passed through on Ya-ngal’s upward ritual journey. In these short, formulaic episodes, which are repeated in most of the subsequent antecedent tales throughout the whole text, the location of the victim’s dri in each case is always first described with the set formula, ‘Its dri was upwards, rambling in the sky’ (de’i dri yar gnam du yar). Upwards in the sky is precisely where Ya-ngal ended the first phase of the rite. At this point, a fixed, threefold subjugation, purification and dispatch procedure follows, apparently coming to an end in the abode of sman and lha beings. This was signalled already at the end of the ninth level with the words, ‘The female child dri is ready for the sman. Its pus is ready for lustrations.’ Here are several descriptions of this procedure from the second phase of suppressing rnel dri by the dri bon. The first instance concerns gSer-yul, reached by Yangal at the top of his upward ritual journey after crossing the ninth doorsill:

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In the land gSer-yul gSer-stod, gSer-lcam Nyag, an infant (rnel), died. Her dri was upwards, rambling in the sky. The dri bon Ra-ljags sKyi-rgyal Converted the dri from wild to tame. Its hide was tanned from thick to fine. From the dri, [she] was brought down to the btsun. From the mtshun, [she] was delivered to the sman.58 And again, further down the series: In the land of Shel, Shel-yul-stod, A girl of Shel, an infant (rnel), died. Her dri was upwards, rambling in the sky. The dri bon Ra-ljags sKyi-rgyal Converted the dri from wild to tame. Its hide was tanned from thick to fine. From the dri, [she] was brought down to the btsun. From the mtshun, [she] departed to the lha.59 The apt allusion in these two passages to the process of refinement of the dri using reference to tanning a hide depends upon the semantics of ’khengs, which refers to something being ‘full’ or ‘puffed up’ but also ‘haughty’.60 Across the range of examples that we have available, the final dispatch is consistently governed by the verbs bskyal ‘deliver’, phab ‘bring down’ and gshegs ‘depart/go to’. It represents a spatial descent via btsun/mtshun, followed by an exit that ultimately leads to lha and sman beings. The presence of the verb gshegs in all these formulations is noteworthy here. Nathan Hill demonstrated that the author(s)/compiler(s) of the Old Tibetan Annals exclusively reserved that verb for the death of emperors in the stock phrase ‘went to the sky’ (dgung du gshegs), while a range of different verbs, indexed to the social hierarchy of the subject, are used to report deaths of all other persons.61 Yet, rnel dri deaths appear mainly to be of ordinary persons. gShegs applied to rnel dri looks like reuse of Old Tibetan vocabulary in a manner that remains conceptually relevant, albeit recontextualised away from its original setting (see below). The ritual step for this phase dealing specifically with defiling bodily fluids and matter associated with a rnel dri death

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

is described more explicitly in the later rnel dri tale of ’Gosza Phyam-’dar-ma: The child dri was converted from wild to tame. Ablutions were done using many types of waters. Many types of lustration fluids were cast upon it. [...] The child dri was delivered to the sman.62

It is also apparent here that it was not just dri bon who presided over the final dispatch, for sman bon also specialised in transfers to the lha and sman beings. This is based upon older precedents yet represents one of various apparent transformations that I return to again in a further section below.

Cosmological Framing In other rnel dri antecedent tales, we find the final dispatch to the abode of lha and sman characterised by a specific change of identity, along with the attention of a particular specialist. In the lHo-ga Lang-grug tale, the Lord of lHo (an ancient clan) has a daughter lHo-za Dril-bu Sil-sil-sman. When pregnant with a female infant, a demon penetrates her womb, illness ensues, and a bad death follows, with ‘The deceased, an infant, dragged off for dri.’ 63 After being ransomed back from her srin demon keeper named Zo-bo Ring-po (cf. Zo-zo Ring-po above): [She] was drawn out and departed to the lha and sman. [She] was offered into the hands of sman bon ’Bring-dang. [She] departed to the lha and sman. As for [her] name, it was given as lHa-za Dril-bu Sil-bu-sman. The benefit [of the rite] was like that in times past.64 The deceased infant victim, who was first identified only as the ‘infant female child’ (bu mo rnel) or as the ‘infant’ (rnel) gains a new name based upon that of her deceased mother, lHo-za Dril-bu Sil-sil-sman, whose name literally means ‘lHo Clan Lady, Bell Ringing sMan’. The victim now dispatched to the lha and sman is appropriately renamed lHa-za Dril-bu Sil-bu-sman, literally ‘Lha Lady, Bell Tinkling sMan’, linking her symbolically back to her dead mother but marking her new lha category of being. This in no orthographic variant, nor is it incidental. The intentional renaming here is just one instance of a wider pattern evident in rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites that combines marking of origins or descent together with transitions in modes of existence between lha and humans, and one I will explore in more detail in sections below.

Where exactly sman, lha and mtshun/btsun are stationed within the cosmos is generally apparent in the rnel dri ’dul ba rites. Unambiguously, the lha are repeatedly said to be upwards in the sky. As for sman, in one case immediately following the dispatch of a dri to such agents, we are told that: The dur gshen rMa-da’ delivered the infant dri to the sman. sMan of the alpine slates (g.ya) ground it to fragments. Today, the infant dri is subdued to the core.’65 Thus, sman here are in a terrestrial habitat, albeit a high alpine one. This correlates with many other ecologicallymarked sman beings in Old Tibetan documents, where they occur in or at the sky, peaks, rivers, lakes, alpine slates, rock cliffs, and so on.66 It is worth pointing out here that lha and ecologically indexed sman are already attested among the oldest records of mundane rites surviving in Tibetan language. Wooden slips inscribed with Old Tibetan that were recovered from the Lop Nor region and dating to the mideighth to mid-ninth century period, record rites addressing lha, sman, yul sman and rtse sman by specialists termed lha bon po, sku gshen and zhal ta pa.67 As for mtshun/btsun, the text only indicates they are somewhere in a stage between the human world and the abode of lha and sman, nothing more. I have let both the original spellings btsun and mtshun stand in my translations because throughout the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript they continually alternate in formulaic passages without any clear pattern.68 One can only logically conclude that they refer to the same type of being, with mtshun (also [b]tshun) the original form of the word, while btsun represents a folk etymology. 69 The older attestations of the

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î Figure 25. Sequences and orientations in a rnel dri ’dul ba rite.

word apparently can mean ‘ancestor’, but only within specific contexts. In Old Tibetan sources, the imperial rulers referred specifically to their own ‘ancestors’ using the term yab myes or pha myes, whereas mtshun or btsun (and variants) almost always occur in expressions related more directly to lha and phy[w]a, with mgon tshun or ’gon [b]tsun being a typical example which spanned the ca. eleventh centur y watershed period as a reference in myths.70 Classical Tibetan references retained this connection between mtshun and lha, with a sixteenth century Tibetan lexicon defining mtshun as ‘the male’s lha of patrilineal ancestors’,71 while for mtshun (gyi) lha a mid-twentieth century lexicon offers ‘a lha who is of this world, a ’go ba’i lha which descends from the time of male ancestors’.72 However, in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript there is no male gender assigned to mtshun/btsun and it is often female victims who are delivered to them (see below). In the absence of direct evidence, these categories of beings are best left with gender unassigned and neutral, and

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this applies to sman as well.73 If one wanted to translate mtshun/btsun here as ‘ancestor’, then sman and lha must also be accorded ancestor status since they all share the same position in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs. As will be seen in the following analysis of the ste’u and sha slungs rites, this appears to be the case. Concerning the intended location of these beings in rnel dri ’dul ba tales, they are definitely up the vertical cosmic axis if we take Old Tibetan sources as our guideline. In one Old Tibetan document the btsun appear together with btsan, bdud, rmu and the nine g.yen (g.yen dgu) as a group of spirit ‘thieves’ (rkun ma) who require a ransom rite,74 while in other cases these same beings can all exist arrayed up the vertical cosmic axis as the ‘nine g.yen in the sky’ (gnam la g.yen dgu), and ‘nine star g.yen’ (skar ma g.yen dgu).75 In the document PT 1060 a descending hierarchy indexed to special horses begins with the lha land Gung-dang (i.e., Gung-thang) above, then extends to the bdud, dmu, skar, gzha’ (< gza’), sprin, gnyan, klu, sman and srin.

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

Summary The overall sequence of the Ya-ngal chanted ritual journey describes an itinerary passing up the vertical cosmic axis through a series of topographically defined levels, via doors that are opened and closed, doorsills that are crossed and paths followed, all indexed to woods and mundane materials and culminating in the sky (fig. 25). This same pattern is more briefly reiterated in various of the successive rnel dri ’dul ba tales, and of special significance is the fact that references to both nine level and thirteen level itineraries and rite sequences occur.

15.4 Ste’u and Sha slungs Texts Here I analyse the vocabulary, contents and cosmological perspectives in the ste’u and sha slungs rites, respectively. The language in the manuscript recording both rites is Classical Tibetan, with a few orthographic and linguistic features indicating its age. The surviving folios on each recto and verso side of the manuscript are comprised of painted illustrations within framed panels, with short passages of text accompanying each of them beneath. Both Ste’u and Sha slungs texts consist of collections of fourfold folio series (pl. 193), with first, second, third and fourth folios in each series dedicated to a common theme across all subsequent folios of the same number. Existing complete folios allow eight or nine such series, or surviving sections thereof, to be wholly or partially reconstructed.76 However, the content of both texts reveals there must have been a total of thirteen types of ste’u and thirteen types of sha slungs, respectively, represented within each complete text. While the individual sha slungs themselves are unnumbered, at one point the text explicitly refers to the origin of the ‘thirteen sha slungs’ (sha slungs bcu gsum). The ste’u described on every third folio within each fourfold series are numbered, with ste’u numbers four, six, seven, eight, nine, ten and thirteen present among the surviving folios. All this strongly indicates the original manuscript was formed of thirteen fourfold folio series, recto and verso, respectively, and that the first three and the eleventh of these complete folio series are now missing. The indication of a total of thirteen folio

series is strongly reinforced by evidence of the number thirteen being ritually and cosmographically significant in earlier and contemporary sources. We already observed this in dGa’-thang manuscripts discussing rites for mundane purposes which are approximately contemporary with the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts. Moreover, in dGa’-thang texts we find recurring reference to the specific motif of the sky or the upward vertical axis composed of thirteen levels (gnam rim pa bcu gsum).77 The same cosmographic motif features in Old Tibetan documents,78 but also in early Classical Tibetan sources composed in or by authors from and active in southernmost Central Tibet around lHo-brag not long after the three old rites under study here were in circulation.79 We are thus dealing with an old cosmographic motif which is well-attested as localised in the most likely origin region of the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript (see appx. J), and, as we will see below, exactly the same motif forms the cosmographic framework for a descent itinerary from sky to earth described across all surviving third folios of the Ste’u text. Along with texts passages, the paintings on each folio of the manuscript are potentially instructive for understanding the rites being described. However, it is not always clear what the various illustrations of human-like figures depict since all lack inscriptions directly within their frames, while others do not correlate with the text passages beneath them.80 It is quite possible some groupings of these illustrations represent idealised views of ritual performance of post-mortem rites. For example, ritual actors wearing armour and holding weapons occur very widely in death and post-mortem rites conducted by shamans along the extended eastern Himalayas, while they also occur in Srid-pa’i lha rites in many parts of the research region.81 Such readings of these unique paintings deserve further comparative analysis. Neither paintings nor text provide any direct statement concerning the manuscript’s geographical provenance, although various internal references and comparisons with other materials allow for well-informed preliminary conclusions concerning the location of its origins or composition (see appx. J). The manuscript gives the impression of being a rather local production which was not intended to be widely circulated for generic use, although the text passages do contain a range of traces of contact with a greater milieu of

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Ste'u (Cha-v)

first folio >

second folio >

Sha slungs (Cha-r)

< first folio

< second folio

third folio >

< third folio

fourth folio >

< fourth folio

î Plate 193. Opposite folio sides of the same section of the continuous, folded manuscript, with intact fourfold folio series from the Ste’u text (l.), and from the Sha slungs text (r.).

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older mundane rites and myths, including death rites such as those recorded in Old Tibetan documents. It is noteworthy that both Ste’u and Sha slungs texts completely lack the word bon, and while gshen occurs three times within the texts, this is merely as an element within compound names. Thus, as with the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, the only supporting sources we can draw upon with any confidence for an analysis are pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan ritual texts from Dunhuang, and the approximately contemporary dGa’thang manuscripts recording mundane rites which are of known geographical provenance. Most personal and place names are of the type found in many older Tibetan texts dedicated to mundane rites and the antecedent tales usually accompanying them. They are composed from a pool of meaningful elements that are constantly rearranged into different compound forms. However, a small collection of immediately recognisable, more enduring named identities are found within the texts. These names, along with other clues and information, also contribute evidence for proposing a location of origin or composition (see appx. J). The following analysis demonstrates that the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts represent two separate but complimentary rites dedicated to a common goal. The vocabulary and syntax of both are often closely matched, albeit that the unique term sha slungs is never cited in the Ste’u text, and ste’u never occurs in the Sha slungs text. Their most distinctive and significant shared vocabulary are references to ‘small lha’ (lhe’u < lha) and sman, and the designation ne’u zhon (< na gzhon) or ‘young ones’ to qualify lhe’u and sman, as well as the description ‘small lha offspring who are brother and sister’ (lhe’u sras lcam dral). These shared references directly indicate the combined purpose of both texts, which is to safely usher new male and female lives into the world from ancestral realms beyond the domestic sphere of human existence. The diminutive lhe’u here is rare, occurring as a proper name element in but a few Old Tibetan myths.82 However, as a stand-alone category designation for a type of being, or mode of existence, as we find it applied in the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts, lhe’u is unknown to me from other sources. Aside from a partial cognate in an Old Tibetan document, 83 the unique diminutive construct ne’u zhon meaning ‘young one’ is certainly closely cognate with rnel

‘young one/infant’ in the approximately contemporary Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs.

15.5 The sTe’u Rite The rites defined in the Ste’u manuscript are not “funerals”, as previous commentators have claimed, although the deceased and burials are briefly alluded to on some of the folios. Rather, these rites define post-mortem procedures with the express goal of bringing new life into the world following a death, and the use of various ritual structures and offerings to enable this. Certain terminology in the Ste’u text is somewhat antiquated or rare and must first be carefully appreciated. The text features recurring use of bdur and bdur yags or bdur yags pa. The verb bdur occurs in Old Tibetan texts for death rites, and has been variously translated as ‘funeral rite’, ‘to bury’ (a corpse), and once also as ‘to conjure’ (the dead).84 In Classical Tibetan, dur (and some compounds containing it) continued to mean ‘tomb’, ‘grave’, ‘burial ground’, ‘to bury’ (dur du ’ jug pa), ‘dig a grave’ (dur rko ba), and so on, while the verbs ’dur ba and ldur ba both mean ‘to have gone to pieces’ or ‘to decay’85 and are probably semantically related to bdur and dur. Thus, I understand bdur in the Ste’u manuscript as specifically meaning ‘to bury’ (a corpse) and referring to ‘burial’ as a practice. The term yags pa is quite rare. We know in Old Tibetan it belonged to the ritual domain of death from a single reference in PT 1042 describing a death rite. In that context, four yag pa are ritual actors at the start of a ranked sequence which appears to be a procession to the grave entrance. These four yag pa are followed by others holding spears and battle-axes, a gshen ritual specialist, and still others presumably holding the different ritual devices listed in the text.86 In later Classical Tibetan usage, yags directly signifies postmortem procedures related to mourning or memorialising the dead. Yags is defined as a rite technique of making offerings with a ritual support for the deceased (’das mchod ’bul rten), which Melvyn Goldstein glosses as “utensils for offering prayers for the deceased.”87 Other reported Classical

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Tibetan usages relate yags to consolation for the bereaved and to offerings of gifts intended to affect this.88 In the context of the Ste’u manuscript, I understand yags [pa] to mean ‘mourning rites’. All indications are that the use of the ste’u rites that the text is describing must occur only after burial and mourning rites have been fully accomplished. The text refers to these rites and ritual devices in some instances explicitly as ‘the ste’u of completed burial and mourning rites’ (bdur yags grub pa’i ste’u), and this leaves no doubt they represent a third and different set of post-mortem procedures to be conducted still later. Regarding the terms ste’u and sbre’u for the series of material objects employed as ritual devices or structures in the text, ste’u is the more generically used and very possibly related to later Classical Tibetan ste’u shing or te’u shing. Lexicons define this as “a small wooden frame/seat or sitting bench.”89 As will be seen, various ste’u have components of wood (shing) fashioned into a latticework frame and are said to function as ‘supports’ (rten). The original concept behind

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ï Plate 194. Folio Ca-1v from the Ste’u text depicting a tree-like ste’u with small birds. é Plate 195. Folio Na-1v from the Ste’u text depicting a tree-like ste’u with small birds and wild animals.

the term for the object is more elusive. Since the term applies to a rite for ushering new life into the world, one proposal is that ste’u is related to, or is an orthographic variant of, the’u and thi’u,90 meaning ‘bud’, usually for a flower bud, but also applied to the young, fresh shoots of tree saplings. This possibility is strongly supported by representations of the ste’u ritual device or structure in the text itself. The painted images in the text (pls. 194, 195) depict an erect, complex object closely resembling a sapling tree with a growing apical bud and lateral buds, but which also look like elaborate flowers. The accompanying text passages represent them as having ‘eight lotus petals spread out’ around the base as if the upper part were a flower bud. The meaning ‘bud’ for ste’u/

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

the’u fits completely with the overall symbolism of fecundity and new life applied to these ste’u on the same folios as the paintings, which are also said to have ripe fruits and eggs surrounding them (see below). Contextual support for this interpretation of ste’u as the’u comes in the Old Tibetan document PT 1134 referring to a skar gshen ritual specialist performing death rites whose name is The’u-bzhug (l. 61), with the proper name perhaps meaning something like ‘stationed (bzhugs) [at] the the’u’. Since we can trace much otherwise rare terminology in the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts back to PT 1134 (see below), including other diminutives like lhe’u which also occurs just six lines below the The’ubzhug reference in PT 1134, we should seriously consider some associations here. In a Klu ’bum account obviously sharing continuities with Old Tibetan documents, a ritual specialist for death rites named rgyal gshen The’u-yug is also introduced. This name, whether a variation of Old Tibetan The’u-bzhug or not, is also most telling since the syllable yug means ‘mourning’ (mostly as yug[s] sa) cognate with yags and is most likely linguistically related to yags.91 A second proposal could be that the local orthography ste’u indicates a word complex involving gte/gte pa/gte ma and gta’/gta’ ma (with gte’u attested) meaning ‘a pawn, a pledge, bail’.92 The same word complex is related to gto ‘apotropaic rite’ (gto bcos) and sometimes ‘ransom’, in other words something that must be given – or the process of giving it – in exchange for what is required or wished for. In this case, it would be offerings made for new lives following a death. The term gte’u with the meaning ‘pledge’ related to a glud rite does occur once in the dGa’-thang manuscripts.93 Finally, there may be a deeper highland Tibeto-Burman ethnolinguistic dimension to ste’u in relation to Himalayan shamanic rites of ‘welcoming’ and fetching the mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’ during a ritual journey and bringing it to a desired destination.94 This, as we will see below, is particularly pertinent since the ste’u rite involves a vertical itinerary of stations between the place of ritual and the top of the cosmos. Until more data become available, open-minded consideration of various possible derivations for ste’u will be required. The term sbre’u used more specifically in the Ste’u text appears to be a diminutive form of sbra or [’]brang, meaning any covered structure, but a canopy, awning or small tent- or

hut-like arrangement in this case, and the synonyms gur and khabs do occur in the text with sbre’u. The term in this form might also be related to the verb [’]bre ba meaning ‘to draw over’, ‘to spread’, ‘to stretch’ referring to cloth coverings and wrappings, including awnings and canopies.95 The Ste’u text is comprised of a series of four folio sequences (pl. 193)96 defining four related subjects: 1. First folios give brief descriptions of tree-like ritual structures termed ste’u said to support the appearance of sman and btsun. 2. Second folios give descriptions of beings who are identified as protectors of lhe’u and sman. 3. Third folios feature trios of male figures and describe a second ste’u structure based upon erected awnings or coverings which are said to offer protection and refuge for lhe’u offspring who are ‘young ones’ (ne’u zhon). 4. Fourth folios offer a summary of precedents and goals, beginning with reference to ancestral figures, then supercondensed antecedent references to deceased, burials and mourning, and finally state benefits and invoke the goal of a present rite.

Tree-like sTe’u The ste’u of first folios in the series, of which three examples survive, are presented in the same manner as sha slungs (see below), with the ste’u being numbered, some named, and some described with attributes. These ste’u appear to be erect, man-made and decorated tree-like or perhaps flower-like structures. Both text passages and illustrations corroborate this type of ste’u, for example on folio Ca-1v (pl. 194): The fifth ste’u is given a name: ste’u that blazes precious conch light. At its apex, there blazes conch light. In between, small conch birds fly. At its base, eight lotus petals spread out. It supports the appearance of sman and btsun.97 And for the fragmentary text on folio Na-1v (pl. 195):

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The twelfth is the ste’u that blazes copper light. At its apex, small birds of the sman soar. At its middle, lacquered leather98 eggs [...].99 Thus, the function of this ste’u is made explicit in that it ‘supports the appearance of sman and btsun’ beings. The small birds of the sman, and what appears to be a male and female pair of nyig animals – which could refer to Tibetan gazelle or a morphologically similar species – surrounding these ste’u are clearly mentioned and depicted in the Sha slungs text (see appx. J) as markers of the presence of the sman and btsun. And this supports the idea that the birds and wildlife these beings are said to own, accompany or lead them from the natural wilderness to a ritual site at which ste’u have been set up. On another of these folios (Cha-1v), it states that both eggs and ripe fruits occur on or at this tree-like ste’u type. Thus, the symbolism is of fecundity and new life.

Small lHa Protector Lords Second folios in the series, of which five examples survive, depict beings armed with different weapons, mounted upon various wild animals and birds (pl. 196), and who are designated as lhe’u mgon rje, ‘small lha protector lords’. The text passages mainly describe their attributes. More importantly, each lhe’u mgon rje is invoked to either ‘appear as the small lha and sman protector!’ or to ‘act as the small lha and sman protector!’,100 while the ritual practitioner is instructed to make offerings to them accordingly.

Tree and Trio of Male Figures sTe’u Third folios in the series have survived the best, with seven examples available in the manuscript. These ste’u are numbered, with four, six, seven, eight, nine, ten and thirteen, which is the final one in the series available to us. 101 Each is identified in their text panels with natural phenomena, the sun and moon (four), ‘southern’ clouds (six), atmosphere (seven), the earth (eight), the ideal cosmic mountain (nine), glacier or snow mountain (ten), and finally the

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é Plate 196. Folio Ca-2v from the Ste’u text depicting a lhe’u mgon rje mounted upon a falcon.

juniper tree (thirteen). Yet, the illustrations on all painted panels each depict a trio of human-like, male figures who display in unison a certain bodily movement or gesture, and these change from folio to folio. If we assume the text correlates with the painted images, the identities of these trios of male figures are all ‘sons’ or ‘offspring’ (bu, sras) of phya, sman, lha, klu and yul sa 102 beings, as well as those of natural elements like earth, stone and green plants, or the spring, summer and autumn seasons of the year. This group of ste’u have diverse descriptions. One instance is described as a ‘tree’. Other instances are simple sheltering

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structures described variously as some form of erected ‘small awnings’, ‘tents’ or ‘covering canopies’ (sbre’u, gur, khabs) above, with a carpet, mat or cushion (gdan) beneath. As with other terminology in both Ste’u and Sha slungs texts, mention of use of the same range of items also occurs in death rites recorded in Old Tibetan manuscripts, albeit with somewhat different meanings or in contexts we cannot be sure of are equivalent.103 The various sheltering structures are identified as being of silk, brocade, turquoise, azurite, gold and conch while on several folios the descriptions are of sublime or ‘virtual’ coverings and carpets comprised of meteorological phenomena and precipitation, including clouds, mist, rain and snow.104 This certainly does not occur in any Old Tibetan accounts of death rites. Thus, the materials themselves suggest ideal structures for an antecedent myth to be invoked or visualised, rather than physical structures fabricated from such materials. Folios Pa-3v and Pa-4v explicitly mention the purpose of these ‘trios of male figures’ ste’u type: Thirteen, the everlasting turquoise juniper ste’u. mGon-bu lHa-sras, Klu-bu Rin-cen and sDings-bu g.Yu-le, the three. The ste’u of completed burial and mourning rites. A silk awning covers it above. A multi-coloured 105 foundation carpets it beneath. [... illegible text...] A blooming flower of gold. Its bark is of brocade106 and silk. It exists as the protection and refuge of small lha offspring (lhe’u sras) who are young ones.107 A tree such as the juniper on folio Pa-3v is not mentioned for the other ste’u of this group. However, on all seven surviving folios we find an erect tree clearly depicted at the left-hand side of each illustration, apparently set into a base as if it were a ritual construction (e.g., pls. 197 upper frame, 200 upper frame). It is quite possible that what is being depicted here are trees used during any rite performance that represented each of these thirteen ste’u. And we can recall here, that tree-like structures or devices are used to represent the first folio series ste’u (pls. 194, 195). Moreover, the ste’u on third folios are invariably described as being ‘of completed burial and mourning rites’. 108 This without doubt defines them as a post-mortem procedure

following the main death rites, and as one employed for ‘protection and refuge of small lha offspring who are young ones’. The trios of male figures depicted and named upon every folio as ‘sons’ or ‘offspring’ of the deities of the natural world and its phenomenal manifestation are those charged with protecting new offspring who come into the world, most likely at the locations of each example of this ste’u type. Crucially, this series of locations together form a descending itinerary (fig. 26). It vertically traverses the realms of the natural world that are cognisable, and thus excludes any subterranean or subaquatic realms. I will return to this important issue in the respective summaries for the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts below.

Small Awning sBre’u Fourth and final folios in the series, of which five examples have survived, represent a summary and culmination of each series. They all describe and depict ritual structures termed sbre’u or ‘small awnings’ which are basically the same as those described more simply upon third folios. These consist of a cloth covering or awning spread out like a tent, with a frame-like form of braided or plaited latticework set up over the cloth as a superstructure of sorts and presumably from which it hangs or is supported (pls. 197, 198, 199). All are of semi-precious or exotic materials, such as turquoise, conch and so forth, since they are being described here as mythical precedents. As we will see below, some materials are related to ancestral abodes, such as tree wood and patterned silk from the rGya realm, or wood of the mythical Mu-le Grum tree109 and silk with sun motifs from Kha-la rTsang-stod. The fourfold text schema for passages on each fourth folio is as follows: 1. Brief opening reference to identities of possible ancestral beings, sometimes with their abodes. 2. Mythical antecedent of a burial for a deceased being. 3. Precedent for erecting a sbre’u ritual structure. 4. Invocation for present ritual performers to directly address the main goal of the rite.

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The text passages on fourth folios are the most explicit concerning the overall purpose of the rite. Folio Nga-4v (pl. 198) reads: In the Bar land Gling-drug, the yul sa Khri Do-re and Khri-lcam Gling-mo-skar. At the time the deceased was buried, a braided/plaited latticework form that was azurite,110 was erected on a white conch small awning. Today, [you] give young ones, male and female,111 for the sake of a positive precedent.112 Folio Cha-4v (pl. 199) reads: lHa-bu ’Brang-kar and lHa-sman ’Phrul-mo. At the time the deceased was buried, a braided/plaited latticework form that was turquoise was erected on

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ïé Plate 197. Folio Pa-3v (left frame) from the Ste’u text depicting the everlasting turquoise juniper ste’u, with continuous inscription on the top of the folio Pa-4v (right frame).

a white conch small awning. By way of burial and mourning rites for the deceased, death is concealed. This benefits the living. [You] give young ones, male and female, for the sake of a positive precedent.113 Folio Pa-4v (pl. 197, lower frame) contains an additional reference to primordial precedents: rGya-sras Khru-na and rGya-lcam rGas-mo-btsun. When the deceased was buried, a braided/plaited latticework form of rGya tree wood was erected on a

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

ï Plate 198. Folio Nga-4v from the Ste’u text depicting a small awning sbre’u with a braided/plaited latticework form.

rGya silk endowed with motifs. In antiquity, the yul sa [beings] completed burial and mourning rites as lha. Today, [you give]114 young ones, male and female, and for the deceased there are burial and mourning rites.115

Summary The Ste’u text describes a post-mortem rite whose goal is obtaining new life. The rite was performed after burial and mourning rites for a deceased person had been completed. The various ritual devices or structures and beings cited in the text passages of each fourfold folio sequence reveal a series of four stages adding up to an overall process.

é Plate 199. Folio Cha-4v from the Ste’u text depicting a small awning sbre’u with a braided/plaited latticework form.

The first type of ste’u are set up to support the arrival of sman and btsun beings at the site. What the term btsun (< mtshun) refers to in this context will be discussed below. The wild animals and birds that the Sha slungs text states are owned by these beings, are also in attendance at ste’u, most probably as symbolic harbingers of, and guides for, the sman and btsun themselves. The other symbols associated with these ste’u are of new life and fecundity. The new lives that arrive with the sman and btsun are directly identified as ‘small lha’ and ‘small lha offspring’. This combination of wildlife, its

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sman owners and ‘small lha’ and ‘small lha offspring’ form a very concrete link to the Sha slungs text that I will discuss below. The mobile and armed ‘small lha protector lords’ described and depicted on second folios are the guardians of new lives while they travel together with the sman and btsun to the ritual site. On third folios of the Ste’u text, the numbered series of ‘tent’-like structures indexed to natural phenomena and objects proceed from high and rarefied regions down to and ending at a juniper tree, which is the thirteenth and final numbered ste’u of this type. Assuming the text was used in order from the first fourfold folio series through to the last, then the series can only mark stratified locations descending the vertical axis, from celestial abodes down to the terrestrial ritual site. The surviving sequence of numbers, locations and the beings indexed to them successively list the phya at the sun and moon (ste’u four), the sman at the southern clouds (ste’u six), the seasons spring, summer and autumn in the atmosphere (ste’u seven), the soil, rocks and plants upon the earth 116 (ste’u eight), the yul sa kings of the cosmic mountain (ste’u nine), the high white snows or glaciers (ste’u eleven), and finally the juniper tree (ste’u thirteen). Most importantly, it is said that each of these ste’u way stations in different, stratified locations offers refuge and protection to small lha offspring. This protection is offered not only by the various ‘tent’-like structures created of materials appropriate to each stratified location (e.g., awnings of clouds and carpets of mists), but also by the trios of ‘sons’ or ‘offspring’ of the deities and natural phenomena associated with each successive way station. Thus, this set of progressive references taken as a whole series running through all third folios reveals a thirteen-stage descending journey, one required for new life to come down from ancestral realms above to reach a ritual site marked by a tree. The fourth and final folios in each series are more complex, and certainly synoptic in function, with three distinct ê Plate 200. Folio Ja-3v (upper frame) from the Ste’u text depicting a trio of ‘son’ protectors with a tree for the ‘ste’u of the floating intermediate space’, and folio Ja-4v (lower frame) depicting rTsang ‘offspring’ sNying-khar and rTsang ‘sister’ Si-le-ma.

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references always appearing in the same order. First, there are beings with named identities, sometimes with a cognate location. Second, there is the erection of small awnings after burials, sometimes with the rhetoric that if a death has been ritually concealed, life benefits. Third, there is an appeal for male and female ‘young ones’ (ne’u zhon) who are ‘small lha offspring’ to be given. The question here is, to who do these three types of references refer? Whether or not the precedent of burials and erecting awnings applies to the initially named beings is unclear, although it seems rather doubtful. For one, there are no direct grammatical indications of this in any of the passages on surviving fourth folios. Moreover, the idea of synchronous, double burials of one male and one female in each instance appears somewhat unintelligible. It is also without precedent in cognate sources. Whatever the case, the first two references do represent antecedents of a kind. Since male and female offspring given after death is the ste’u rite’s stated purpose, logically these lives and their source must be the precedent being conveyed. The practical, ritual precedent is erecting small awnings after a burial. But who do the two named male and female identities represent? The ultimate source of any human life is an ancestor, while a new life, descending from an ancestral realm beyond the human domestic sphere – as is the case in the ste’u rite – will have an identity appropriate to its origins. One, or both, of these possibilities is what the pairs of named male and female identities in each text passage – and presumably the paired figures depicted either side of the awnings on each painting – should represent, namely ancestors and origin identities of new offspring. Descriptive elements in the named identities indicate this to be so. We find them termed ‘klu offspring young one’ (klu sras gzhon nu), ‘lha child/son’ (lha bu), ‘rTsang offspring’ (rtsang sras) and ‘rGya offspring’ (rgya sras) for male figures, with ‘sisters’ (lcam, a synonym of spun), sman and btsun defining the respective female figures. This is precisely the classificatory language used to describe the offspring and young ones found throughout the Ste’u text. It also occurs in the Sha slungs text, about which we can mention in advance that on the final folio all the thirteen sha slungs invoked for the rite are explicitly offered to ‘small lha offspring who are brother and sister’ (lhe’u sras

lcam dral). This same pattern of references exists as well for names in the rnel dri ’dul ba tales.117 The above interpretation is further confirmed when locations sometimes associated with the paired, named beings who are cited initially in the fourfold schema of each text passage are considered. At least this is the case regarding those for which we have approximately contemporary and cognate information available. Take, for example, the place named Kha-la rTsang-stod on folio Ja-4v (pl. 200 lower frame). In Old Tibetan documents, Kha-la rTsang-stod or rTsang-stod appears as both a quasi-mythical realm and a ‘minor kingdom’ (rgyal phran) with geographical location, being especially associated with Phy[w]a beings who seem to be both divine and human.118 Also, the rGya realm with its rGya denizens referenced on folio Pa-4v is another such quasi-mythical, possibly geographical or celestial location recurring in many older myths of origin and ritual antecedent narratives, as well as frequently identified with origin places and primordial progenitors within the rabs of the Srid-pa’i lha cult.119 Moreover, the named lha in the text must come from the lha land Gung-thang (also Gungdang), which is explicitly mentioned as being up above the intermediate space of the atmosphere (see below), as well as cited in the Sha slungs text as the lha abode. Finally, the otherwise unknown Bar land named Gling-drug most likely refers to the intermediate space (bar) of the atmosphere. The initial passage on folio Ja-3v (pl. 200 upper frame) reads: sTe’u seven, the ste’u of the floating intermediate space (bar snang). Regarding what is upwards, the lha land is seen. Regarding what is downwards, the earth is seen. Regarding what is in between, the human land is seen. On account of that, it is the ste’u of floating [intermediate space].120. Thus, Kha-la rTsang-stod, rGya, Gung-thang and Bar in older documents are all either celestial locations or they and their denizens have an ambivalent status between the earth world and the sky world. They are thus all fitting ancestral locations of the type we might expect to feature in antecedent references occurring on fourth folios of the fourfold Ste’u text series. A rnel dri ’dul ba narrative also directly

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confirms this same outlook. It states that lha are like sky parents who give birth to humans and send their newborn children down to earth. In the [Yar]-lungs Sogs-ka tale, the crisis of a rnel dri defilement is described for the living as follows: The lha were driven off, driven into the sky. The wild geese vanished, vanished into the lake. Human beings were not begotten (btsas) by the lha.121

2. Second folios all depict groups of birds, including ‘small birds’ indexed to different environments, which are the property of sman and ‘small lha’, and larger birds that protect and shepherd them. 3. Third folios all cite sha slungs and depict different wild herbivores in male, female and juvenile trios, with mention of their qualities or functions in relation to sman, btsun and ‘small lha’. 4. Fourth folios describe both named lha and myi beings related to various categories (yul sa, sgra bla, sa bdag) who protect and care for sman, ‘small lha’ and their property of wild herbivores which live with them.

The verb btsas here literally means ‘give birth to’, while nominal btsas pa is used for ‘new-born children’. This is one of various explicit correlations between the cosmological framing in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs and the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts. This same idea of human origins from lha persisted in non-Buddhist folk cosmology for some time after the likely eleventh century compositional era of these old texts. In a fourteenth century source of a similar kind from southern central Tibet, the progenitor lha ʼO-de Gung-rgyal, who features prominently in the Sha slungs text, is explicitly cast as the lha ancestor of human beings.122 The Srid-pa’i lha cult in my research region is based upon exactly this idea as well (see below).

It is immediately obvious from this overview that ‘small lha’ (lhe’u), sman and more rarely mentioned btsun, all of whom are found in the natural environment together with wildlife and birds, and who are the positive focus of a complex of other types of beings, are the principal object of the sha slungs rite. Before examining examples of each folio type in the fourfold sequence, the meaning of the rare word slungs and its unique forms sha slungs, slungs ma and sha mkhar slungs ma within the text must be considered, since its interpretation is crucial for understanding the rite.

15.6 The Sha slungs Rite

Meanings of Slungs and Sha slungs

Like the Ste’u text, the Sha slungs text is also arranged into a series – apparently originally thirteen – of short, four folio sequences (pl. 193)123 defining four related subjects:

Slung[s] is attested in Old Tibetan documents, primarily in relation to administration and law and with only two brief references in relation to descriptions of rites. In the first context, it refers to a ‘way station’, perhaps ‘post station’, a halting or dismounting place or fixed spot along a road or route, while in some instances it might be glossed as ‘outpost’. Frederick W. Thomas identified ‘government slungs’ (mngan slungs), ‘Chinese slungs’ (rgya slungs), ‘nomad slungs’ (’brog slungs) and ‘soldier slungs’ (so slungs), the latter defined as “messengers responsible for transporting provisions to hill-stations”, and he also suggested “military police”.125 In different Old Tibetan documents slungs are associated with ‘messengers’ (po nya > pho nya), ‘horses’ (rta), ‘horse keepers/grooms’ (rta rdzi), and ‘horse owners’ (rta bdag).126 An imperial administrative innovation apparently included

1. Two of the surviving trio of first folios – the third represents an exception 124 – have the same text schema with three distinct references as we find on fourth folios on the Ste’u text. Initially, pairs of lha beings from lha abodes are simply named. Second, going to the sman beings dwelling in terrestrial mountains and lakes together with yul sa beings is described. Here the strongholds (mkhar) and fortresses (rdzong) are cited as dwellings of ‘small lha’ (lhe’u), of ‘young ones (ne’u zhon) who are small lha’, and of sman. Finally, ritual instructions for protection and care of them by other beings are cited.

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regularising distances between slungs ‘way stations’. 127 In some Old Tibetan documents the word occurs in slungs tshugs and together with tshugs in context, and in slungs sa,128 both of which have informed analogous later usages in Classical Tibetan, such as tshugs sa ‘caravansary’, ‘way station’ and gru tshugs sa ‘ferry boat station’, while slungs itself fell out of use. The common aspects indicated for Old Tibetan slungs are fixed and well-defined halting spots in remote or otherwise deserted areas, locations along a regular route as opposed to any random site, and places occupied by and significant for both persons and animals, especially horses and those who own, ride and care for them. When fully interrogated, eleventh century sha slungs and its variants are found to preserve most of this older semantic scope. Beyond administrative and legal contexts, Old Tibetan slungs is only known from two references to rite descriptions occurring in antecedent narratives, and both are variants of the same text. Slungs occurs in mythical accounts in which the body of a horse is being discussed. The horse is a psychopomp animal, termed do ma snyings dags, and it might also have been sacrificed. In PT 1134, we read of the psychopomp horse, ‘as for the mane, it was bound with silk. As for the tail, it was given as/appointed for a slungs’.129 A myth narrative in PT 1136 repeats the same formulation, ‘As for the tail, it was given as a slungs.’130 If the horse was sacrificed for the rite, then perhaps the tail was removed and given for use as a flag or standard to mark an actual slungs site, for instance, so that travellers could see such a way station from a distance? Or perhaps the ritual arena in which the horse is treated in these texts could have been considered a slungs, one subsequently marked by the horse’s tail? Such horsetail standards mounted atop poles were widely used in ancient Central Asia and regions of Mongol rule and influence. They were mentioned in the Marco Polo, and Henry Yule’s notes to his translation report “Túk or Túgk, is the horse-tail or yak-tail standard which among so many Asiatic nations has marked the supreme military command.”131 An interesting cultural link between slungs, horses (rta) and standards or flags was carried over into the word lung rta (and klung rta), a term for a ritual flag depicting a horse, by replacing the obsolete syllable slungs.132

In the Sha slungs text, we find slungs, slungs ma and more fully sha mkhar slungs ma forms. This latter ‘sha stronghold slungs ma’ is the full form of sha slungs as a technical term. This is because Tibetan systems of abbreviation usually omit every second element in bi-syllabic pairs in order to generate a condensed term (bsdus yig). This is confirmed by various usages in the text. Certain folios mention a numerical series of sha slungs based ideally upon a primordial pattern. After the last sha slungs in the text has been described, a summarising aetiological reference states, ‘The thirteen sha slungs also initially came into being like that.’133 This strongly implies the text is discussing sha slungs as being something in the here and now in relation to primordial models. Since sha slungs are only mentioned on seven folios, we assume that the other six sha slungs of the ideal thirteen must be described upon the missing folios. Sha slungs are indexed to wild animals and birds, and the accompanying illustrations attest these correlations. There is a ‘sha slungs of the precious’ (rin chen yi sha slungs) for species of deer, wild ass and wild goats, a ‘small bird slungs’ (bye’u slungs) and a ‘final sha slungs’ (sha slungs mtha’ ma) assigned to ground dwelling marmot and badger. It is likely that the ‘sha slungs of the precious’ type is a general name encompassing them all. When the series are finished with ‘the final sha slungs’ (sha slungs mtha’ ma), it is stated that ‘The sha slungs of the precious are completed’.134 One passage related to the primordial appearance or construction of sha slungs states, ‘As for the sha mkhar slungs ma, being the sa bdag queen, lHa-mo brTen-ma adorned it [with] five precious things.’135 The sa bdag queen just cited is identified as a sgra bla being. There is also another set of ‘three sha mkhar men’ (sha mkhar myi gsum) who are sgra bla and who are directly associated with the sha mkhar [slungs ma]. Clearly there is significant semantic overlap between sha slungs and Old Tibetan administrative slungs ‘way stations’. There are a fixed series of sha slungs. They are designated as belonging to different types depending upon the beings associated with them. They are associated with animals and, as we will see below, these animals are the explicit property of owners, and are further looked after by designated caregivers. This is exactly parallel to the horses of the slungs ‘way stations’ whose owners and carers are cited in Old

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é Plate 201. Folio Ca-1r from the Sha slungs text, with inscription continued on folio Ca-2r above painting (see pl. 202). è Plate 202. Folio Ca-2r from the Sha slungs text, with final lines of inscription for folio Ca-1r at top.

Tibetan documents. Since sha slungs are associated with wild animals, they also resemble the administrative slungs ‘way stations’ along a travel route which were necessarily spaced far off from places of intensive human use. One significant difference between Old Tibetan slungs references and sha [mkhar] slungs [ma] is the latter term(s) being related to wild animals rather than domestic horses or horses used during rites. The sha element marks this distinction. Sha appears in the text with slungs as a generic term encompassing all wild animals invoked in the rite. Thus, sha qualifies the slungs which are related to all these animal species regardless, including various deer, wild ass, wild goats, marmot and badger, which are very different

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types of animals with highly diverse ecologies that do not overlap. Wild avifauna has its own term, ‘small bird slungs’ (bye’u slungs), and is not included under sha slungs. At the same time, the text also employs the generic category term ri d[w]ags to refer to all larger wild animals that are herbivores, while the specific usage sha to refer to ‘deer’ (sh[w]a ba) as a sub-set of ri d[w]ags only occurs once.136 Thus, in this text sha in sha slungs and its compounds is to be understood generally as ‘wildlife’ exclusive of avifauna. The mkhar element in sha mkhar slungs ma means ‘stronghold’ and it is a well-attested term in Old Tibetan for fortified residence places of ruling elites. In Tibetan folk songs, poetic rural depictions of nature, and the culture of hunting we find mkhar commonly applied to environments occupied by wild animals of the ri dwags category, that is, game

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species. Moreover, there are many such contexts in which sha and mkhar are explicitly related to dgra lha and sgra bla beings as we find in the Sha slungs text. This parallels the pattern found in Tibetan Plateau hunting cultures where those same beings are appealed to by hunters for success in obtaining game animals. 137 For example, a chanted appeal to dgra lha for hunting success I recorded in use among Changthang hunters in Gerze Dzong, far north-western Tibetan Plateau, and one which identifies game with the productive force g.yang, includes the lines, ‘In the midst of the broad stronghold (mkhar) of the meadows, is the multiplying g.yang of deer and wild ass females and their offspring. Today, fetch that g.yang here.’138 Thus, the association cited above between sha mkhar, the sa bdag queen and ‘three sha mkhar men’ who are all sgra bla is a wide-spread cultural pattern. Giving that the older application of mkhar as ‘stronghold’ is something protective and difficult to access, mkhar is perhaps best translated as ‘refuge’ in sha mkhar slungs ma in relation to the known ecology of wild herbivores who can be sought after as game.

terrestrial realm of the cosmos. Concerning the actions of the wild animal denizens of sha slungs in relation to these locations, the text most commonly states that they ‘emerge/ come out’ ([’]byung) from (nas/nes) sha slungs, nothing more. Although there are parallel bye’u slungs or ‘small bird way stations’ mentioned, birds in the text ‘hatch out’ (rdol) of ‘precious eggs’ (rin cen sgong [nga]), with one case of a ‘lacquered leather egg’ (bse’ sgong) and one of an ‘iron egg’ (lcags sgong), in the rocks, the forest, the realm of the earth, at or within the ‘life and death boundary’ (gson gshin ’tshams) and finally in the ‘four directions’ (phyogs bzhi). While the ‘life and death boundary’ is obscure, it might just allude to the ‘world’ within which everything takes birth and dies, and the other locations all describe the natural world. A third reference parallel to both sha slungs and these eggs and their locations which are apparently bye’u slungs, but one cited only twice and which is not directly related to wild animals and birds, are agate boulders (mchong yi pha bong) from which beings identified as ‘sha mkhar men’ (sha mkhar myi) who are sgra bla ‘come into being’ (bsrid).

The Tibetan language has a very rich vocabulary for designating areas, sites and abodes of all types. From among these extensive possibilities, whoever composed the Sha slungs text was very precise in applying an Old Tibetan technical term of administration to designate whatever a sha slungs was meant to be. Given that use of slungs in the Sha slungs text is so cognate with Old Tibetan usages, we should precisely understand and translate sha slungs as ‘wildlife way station’, sha mkhar slungs ma as ‘wildlife refuge way station’, and bye’u slungs as ‘small bird way station’. Analysis of the contents of the Sha slungs text below supports these meanings.

An account of each folio type in the fourfold series now follows.

Aside from what has been cited above, the sha slungs as ‘wildlife way stations’ are given no further locations or attributes within the text. In other passages, only some of which mention sha slungs, there are references to wild herbivores abiding in mountain and lake regions, to birds found in both forest and rock areas, and one can also deduce that the sha slungs of marmot and badger were on, and partly in, the earth due to their ecology. Thus, all the sha slungs are located in wilderness areas of the natural world, within the

Going to the sMan First folios are the most instructive in the fourfold series of the Sha slungs text, although only two survive with intact text passages. The text schema in these passages is the same as found on fourth folios in the Ste’u text. They begin by simply naming a lha couple from places that are not on the earth. Then follows the practical precedent of going to the sman beings who live in a protected zone of mountains and lakes. Finally, there is the invocation of protective agency addressed to some deity by an actual user of the text during present performance of the rite. The text passage written across folios Ca-1r and Ca-2r (pls. 201, 202) states: Atop the land Sa-le-ljon, the stronghold of sMon-lam rock [and] the whirling, white Dung lake. In between lake and rock, lHa-sras lHa-bo-che [and] lHa-za Gang-cig-ma. At the time of going to the sman, as for

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é Plate 203. Folio Cha-1r from the Sha slungs text, with inscription continued on folio Cha-2r above painting (see pl. 204). è Plate 204. Folio Cha-2r from the Sha slungs text, with final lines of inscription for folio Cha-1r at top.

the small lha stronghold [and] the sman fortress, the dmag dpon was lord of sgra bla, the sman fortress was the fortress of sgra bla. In his hand, a sharp weapon [missing text]. Suppress the gzed, btsan and g.yam dri [or: g.yam and dri]. Young ones (ne’u zhon),139 male and female, are to be brought together with the fortress of sgra bla.140 Folio Cha-1r (pl. 203) states: In the lha land Gung-dang, the two, lHa-sras sKyes-cig and mTsho-sman rGyal-mo. At the time of going to the sman, the two, Gangs-ri dKar-po and lHa-mtsho dKar-mo, [were] the fortresses of the yul

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sa beings and sman: on Gangs-ri dKar-po, Sa-lha mGon-skyabs dwelt; in lHa-mtsho dKar-mo, Sa-sman ʼJam-le abided. [They] were good protectors. Young ones (ne’u zhon), who were small lha (lhe’u) [and] sman, and living creatures, who were wild herbivores, resided in the stronghold and fortress of Kha-ba ʼOd-mkhar and lHa-mtsho dKar-mo. This Sa-sman ʼJam-le is to be cherishing to the sman.141 The antecedent in both examples here is of descent of ‘young ones’ who are ‘small lha’ from an ancestral lha realm above the earth. The precedent concerns safe dwelling conditions for these new beings upon the earth (sa) in specific wild places among certain types of protective and useful co-residents. The final invocations or requests are to ensure young ones reach the appropriate protective abodes, and to designate who will care kindly for them.

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The pairs of male and female identities beginning each text passage must either be lha ancestor names or origin identities of those who depart their abodes to go to the sman in the terrestrial wilderness as ‘young ones’ who are ‘small lha’. They are named appropriately in the same manner as on fourth folios of the Ste’u text. In one pair, the male is designated as the ‘lha offspring’ (lha sras) lHa-boche. The male’s name in the second pair, lHa-sras sKyescig, can literally mean either ‘lHa offspring, a human birth’ or ‘lHa offspring, a gift’,142 with either signifying the presentation of a new human life from the ancestral lha. Some of the other names of possible lha ancestors cited elsewhere in the text also appear to hold such references.143 As for the abodes of these ancestors or their offspring, I mentioned previously that Gung-dang (or Gung-thang) is well known as the ancestral lha land up above, but the land Sa-le-ljon is obscure. In fact, it also designates an ancestral lha abode high up the vertical cosmic axis, and we learn this from a slightly later manuscript from the same ‘neighbourhood’ in southernmost Central Tibet. In the Bshad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu redaction of the Grags-pa Bon-lugs narrative composed during the 1400s at Gru-shul, immediately adjacent to both gTam-shul and lHo-brag, we find dGa’ Sa-le is the name of the fifteenth level of the sky from which lha come. 144 The content of the precedent sections and the final instruction sections in these first folios are somewhat synoptic and prefigure what is described in greater detail upon the subsequent three folios in each fourfold series. That is, they present the range of protective locations that are ‘way stations’ (slungs), the denizens of these places in the form of birds, wild herbivorous animals and different non-human beings, and mechanisms that together ensure safe and caring conditions for the ‘small lha’ who are new ‘young ones’ sent down to earth.

Small Bird Way Stations Second folios present a series of locations summarised as ‘small bird way stations’ (bye’u slungs), list the avifauna inhabiting them, their characteristics and the relations among

these birds and their sman owners. For example, folio Cha2r (pl. 204) states: An iron egg broke open in the forest. The small forest birds ke ke, khu long zer mong and bya gshen ’ jon mo continually lead the way in the forest. They are a favoured movable property [of sman145]. As for the protector of small birds, the long beaked kang ka [bird] emerged from the forests of lHo-ga. [It] holds sway over the realm of trees. [It] must act as the protector of small birds who stops dispersal of trains of the sman’s small birds into the trees!146 I deal with the identification of the birds and locations mentioned in this passage in the following section and in appendix J. The birds listed and depicted on all five surviving second folios have a range of roles based upon their size and their status as ‘property’. Species of small birds (bye’u) who are identified both as being existing property of, or which are offered (’bul) as property to, sman, not only ‘lead the way in the forest’, but also ‘lead the way in the rocks’,147 ‘show the way taken by sman’148 and ‘do not annoy sman with their calls’.149 Those larger birds mentioned in each group, who are neither classed as property nor offered as property to sman, have a protective, shepherding role over the small birds, one that parallels that of the lha and lha-descended beings in relation to wild animals on third and fourth folios. Finally, there is no trace of any formal progression from one bye’u slungs to the next, no route, or any obvious development of the arrangement of species and habitats being described on successive second folios. It appears more the case that together they form a network encompassing all wild nature where birds occur.

Wildlife Way Stations Third folios describing the ‘wildlife way stations’ (sha slungs), and the range of wild herbivores that dwell in them, are the best represented among the fourfold folio series, with seven surviving examples. Their text schema and content are quite similar to second folios presenting small bird way stations, albeit generally shorter in length. There are six

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larger sized wild herbivore species mentioned throughout these folios, including wild ass, Cervid deer, takin, Indian muntjac or barking deer, alpine musk deer and Tibetan gazelle, and their classificatory identification is discussed fully in appendix J. Most of them are individually listed as property that is being offered to sman. Several of the wild herbivores are also designated as messengers (pho nya) who run far or fast, and one acts as a mount (chibs) of sman and btsun, much like the messengers and horses of the slungs way stations of the Tibetan empire discussed in Old Tibetan documents. The idea that sman and other beings who dwell in the natural world own and use a range of wildlife in the types of roles and functions just mentioned is entirely commonplace in Tibetan and high Himalayan traditions of

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ï Plate 205. Folio Pa-3r from the Sha slungs text depicting marmot (l.) and badger (r.). é Plate 206. Folio Cha-4r from the Sha slungs text depicting a protector of wild herbivores, or perhaps the lha ’O[d]-de Gung-rgyal.

myths and rites. By far the most revealing roles any of these animals have are those assigned to the last type of wildlife in the sha slungs series, namely the badger and the marmot on folio Pa-3r (pl. 205): As for [what emerges] from the final wildlife way station, marmot and badger, the two. Badger, the colour of turquoise. [They] make the dry mattress150 of the sman by carrying off nectar waters. Marmot,

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the colour of gold. [They] ready the bed [for] small lha [and] sman. [These animals] count as movable properties for benefit.151 Thus, if the passage is taken literally as an ecological statement, it could mean that small lha and sman sleep on the ground, or even under the earth, in this type of wildlife way station, since that is where both marmot and badger nest and are active. As with the bye’u slungs folios, there is no trace of any formal progression from one sha slungs to the next, no route, or any obvious development of the arrangement of species being described on successive third folios. The final sha slungs in the series being the preserve of ground-dwelling animals also appears unsystematic in this regard, since marmots occupy alpine steppes while badgers dwell in forested valleys. Like all the bye’u slungs, the sha slungs together form a network encompassing all nature where wild animals occur.

Wildlife Protectors On the five surviving fourth folios of the series, lha and myi identified beings, also sometimes related to yul sa and sgra bla categories, are depicted and described as having a protective and caring role towards wild herbivores that belong to sman, but also towards ‘small lha’ and sman themselves. Some of these protectors have the high status of progenitor lha, and the long enduring identity of ’O[d]-de Gung-rgyal, whose cult is already apparent in Old Tibetan documents, is among them, while others are completely unknown beings. For example, folio Cha-4r (pl. 206) featuring ’O[d]-de Gungrgyal invokes him in relation to other protector beings: Protector of wild herbivores, because lha ʼOd-de Gung-rgyal, the master of ten thousand yul sa [beings], the ultimate source152 of the lha, cherishes the sman and is of great assistance to deer, [you] do not send the movable property of sman, the wild herbivores, to the enemies which are bdud, btsan, and srin po!153

The most distinctive feature of this and other fourth folio texts is the role of these protectors as suppressors (’dul) and hunters (rngon pa) of a range of negative spirits and forces, including bdud, btsan, srin po, gzed, 154 g.yam dri (or g.yam and dri?), who might threaten the useful wildlife property of sman and small lha. It is noteworthy that some of the vocabulary here on ‘hunters of the bdud’ is shared with texts among the dGa’-thang manuscripts,155 while the notion that these same types of negative spirits act as ‘thieves’ of other beings’ lives is already established in the Old Tibetan ritual texts.156 Thus, this aspect of the cosmology is fully congruent with both the older ritual texts and those approximately contemporary with the Sha slungs text.

Summary As a rite, the Sha slungs text is concerned with managing a complex of relations among three sets of beings: those representing new life that enters into the natural, terrestrial world; those that aid and protect that first set of beings; and those that potentially threaten the interests of both the first and second sets. Apart from invoking all these beings and their relations by chanting the text, a user must emphatically instruct some beings to act (mdzod) as protectors or shepherds in certain ways, while appeasing others by making offerings (’bul). There are also a few appeals to bring new life together with (sprad) its safest earthly abode. Moreover, on the very final folio in the text, concerning the thirteen wildlife way stations it explicitly states, ‘They are offered to small lha offspring who are brother and sister as properties for enjoyment/use. The sha slungs of the precious are completed.’157 Sha slungs and bye’u slungs, and their wild animal and bird inhabitants, formed a network of functional locations throughout the natural wilderness. They served as safe havens for small lha who represent new lives, together with their sman supporters, after descending from ancestral realms. It is reasonable to assume that, like way stations everywhere, sha slungs and bye’u slungs were temporary halting places on a journey, one that began up in the sky and eventually ended in a mother’s womb. Small lha offspring

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ste’u protectors

Ste’u rite

levels lhe’u

lha

sky (Gung thang)

?

— (ste’u 2)

?

— (ste’u 3)

phya ? sman seasons soil/stones/plants yul sa

Sha slungs rite

sun & moon (ste’u 4) — (ste’u 5) clouds (ste’u 6) atmosphere (ste’u 7) earth (ste’u 8) cosmic mountain (ste’u 9)

?

— (ste’u 10)

?

high, white snows (ste’u 11)

?

— (ste’u 12)

mgon, klu, sdings

juniper tree (ste’u 13)

lhe’u sras lcam dral with sman & btsun 13 sha slungs & 13 bye’u slungs in domain of terrestrial wilderness

who are ‘young ones’ are destined to birth as human children at some stage, and this brings us back to the Ste’u text as a complimentary rite. The Sha slungs text leaves no doubt that all the beings it presents abide in the wilderness upon the earth’s surface, that is, below celestial and atmospheric abodes from where the Ste’u text describes descent of small lha offspring to a terrestrial end station. It thus stands to reason that the purpose of the sha slungs rite logically followed on from the ste’u rite. When new life was called down from ancestral sky realms using ste’u, the sha slungs and bye’u slungs and their denizens were ritually maintained in wild places to ensure a safe and supportive domain for these potential human lives (fig. 26). If one accepts my analysis of the overall purpose ste’u and sha slungs rites would have had, then the likely manner in

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ne’u zhon

î Figure 26. Combined aspects represented in ste’u and sha slungs rites.

which these rites must have been used follows from that. All thirteen of the fourfold series of folios would have needed to be performed together for a complete rite. The sequence would have followed the order of numbered ste’u on third folios, since together they define a protected itinerary, one passing throughout the world space, from the sky abode of lha ancestors, via the sman, mtshun/btsun and yul sa, to the ritual site and thus the sphere of human activity. It must have been similar with the thirteen numbered sha slungs, which would have all been performed to ensure every part of the wilderness formed a safe and supportive haven for small lha waiting to take birth as new human beings. Only information on actual social practice could address this point more definitively, but we are unlikely to gain that.

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

15.7

An Old Cycle of Existence in Relation to Regional Cultural History and Ethnography

Surveying all we know about the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites, we have demonstrated they share the same overall cosmological framing and common concepts and reference points. Considered together, they amount to a cycle of human existence, one that circulates or flows up and down the vertical cosmic axis. Its two poles are the social domain of personhood upon the earth below and the ancestral domain of lha in the high sky above. When transiting in between these poles, as deceased existences departing back to ancestors, or as vital, new lives given out by ancestors once again, existence must pass through the intermediary custody of sman and mtshun/btsun. At least, this is obviously so in the two ritual cases we are dealing with, namely, of culturally problematic deaths, and of intentionally bringing new lives into the world in a safe manner. The intermediary transits back and forth between personhood and ancestorhood are obviously critical phases in the circulation of existence. A myriad of other beings located in terrestrial wilderness areas and the proximate atmosphere exist not only to threaten and steal, but also to protect and care for human existence, whether in its deceased or in its vital modes. Hence, these transit phases have such intensive ritual interventions dedicated to them. In general, we should consider the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs procedures as merely being particular forms of rite de passage within this overall cycle. Furthermore, these three old rites inform us that the entire cycle of existence operates in the sky, the atmospheric and the terrestrial domains of the actual, cognisable natural world we live in. It thus excludes any subterranean or subaquatic realms belonging to an ‘underworld’, and therefore only encompasses two of the three divisions of the cosmos into ‘three realms above, upon, and beneath [the surface of] the earth’ called srid pa gsum or sa gsum in Classical Tibetan. It is purely mundane, and it is a potentially open cycle around which existence can continue to flow. There is no hint here of any ‘other-worldly’ destination or ‘point of no return’, but especially no separate ‘land of the dead’ or ‘paradise’, nor any ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ types of destinations linked

to moral status. We know that a range of such ideas were already referred to in certain Old Tibetan documents – some influenced already by Buddhism – as well as in early translations of Buddhist doctrines into Tibetan (e.g., gshin yul, dga’ yul, sdig yul, dga’ dang skyid pa’i yul, etc.).158 The rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites evince no continuity whatsoever with such representations. They express a cosmology separate from those promoted by organised salvation religions in the region since the period of Tibetan conversion to Buddhism. The question arises of how best from the perspective of regional cultural history, to identify the status of this old cycle of existence and the sources it occurs within? Materials from the Tibetosphere offer some obvious examples for comparison. One thinks of the Old Tibetan origin mythology of btsan po rulers descended from lha, or of contemporary Amdo folk notions recognising local mountain deities as community ancestors. Yet, these examples appear as merely superficial, mythological representations alongside the far more specific connections and mechanisms defining relations of existence between lha and humans in the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites that are intended to offer practical procedures to attain specified goals; people acted upon them. Thus, one assumption might be that these three old rites are just elaborated forms of what we already know of from other Tibetan Plateau times and spaces. This is the position taken toward rites in the dGa’-thang manuscripts by those who claim them as “Bon ritual traditions” and stress unbroken continuities between Dunhuang documents and later sources.159 Besides the fact that these old texts do not represent themselves in this manner (see below), the on-going drawback with such sweeping assessments is their repetition of existing generalisations and assumptions, rather than putting these to the test by working with the actual evidence to hand. I consider that these three old rites can be more fruitfully investigated in relation to obvious differences and similarities they exhibit in relation to other known traditions in the region, and their exact relationship with Old Tibetan documents can be more fully established, while comparisons with wider frames of cultural history and ethnographic evidence can be examined. I will now offer brief discussions of these three points as a basis

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for drawing my own conclusions on the status of the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites.

Differences in Relation to Tibetan Materials Commenting on the rnel dri tales, Samten Karmay observed “I have never come across this particular account in the later Bon tradition”, 160 and such an experienced authority is best placed to offer this assessment, one that accords with my own surveys of rites in Tibetan language sources in which rnel dri do appear unique. However, the same ideas and rites are certainly not unique along the extended eastern Himalayas. Further westwards from the research region, similar cases of spirit possession of a woman’s womb and foetus leading to miscarriage were already a recognised medical diagnosis termed jātahārinī,̣ or ‘seizer of the born’, in a sixth- or seventh century Sanskrit medical compendium titled Kāśyapasa m hitā. ̣ Old manuscripts of this text were first known from Nepal. 161 Exactly the same concept of rnel dri as ‘wandering bad death spirits’, albeit not specifically restricted to – yet frequently applied to – infants born and unborn, represents a wide-spread cultural pattern and concern that is also ethnographically attested in shaman traditions along the extended eastern Himalayas. Such rites are focused mainly upon posthumous problems in the wake of untimely deaths, including in utero, natal and young infant deaths, maternal deaths during childbirth, violent accidents, suicides and less commonly murders. The elaborate rites involved for dealing with this concern are most frequently the preserve of Himalayan highland shamans, including documented instances among distant groups such as the Mewahang Rai, the Nyishi, the Idu Mishmi and the Naxi.162 One example is special myths and rites related to ra or rāh spirits of deceased children – including miscarriages, stillbirths and premature deaths – who are the ‘embryo threats’ (moc), used by Kāmī and Kham Magar shamans of west Nepal. These spirits are held to take up residence in a woman’s uterus and to ‘wander’ around, exactly like the rnel dri, and especially represent the danger the prematurely dead pose for their living relatives. 163 The Magar ra myth cycle culminates in the transformation of the child demon Kubiram into a deadly

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bird that emerges as the killer ghost of small children. 164 Further eastwards, premodern Qiang of western Sichuan believed that “babies that are stillborn or die at a tender age are not human beings at all, but a kind of demon that causes a woman to become pregnant, then is stillborn or dies soon after birth in order to cause troubles and hardships to the parents.”165 Thus, from all the available evidence, there is no doubt rnel dri belong to an ancient and on-going formalised category of beings and ritual concerns found right along the extended eastern Himalayas. The identification of ancestors and the concept of a ‘soul’ – or more precisely ‘mobile vitality principle’ – as a basis for existence is another interesting point of difference between the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites and what we usually find in Tibetan Plateau materials. In the three old rites under study, it is striking that existence is never anonymous or abstract. In each of its four modes – as young life entering the world, in personhood, in being deceased, and in ancestorhood – existence is consistently categorised and named, thus always marked in terms of transformations of state and identity. It is not possible to find anything comparable to this in Tibetan Plateau materials beyond these three old rites, yet sophisticated concepts of ancestors and rich vocabularies identifying them are commonplace in eastern Himalayan highland societies. In contrast to, and perhaps because of this feature, it is also striking that the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts never once refer to existence using any ‘soul’ terminology. Similarly, among a score of rnel dri ’dul ba antecedent tales the term brla (< bla)166 only occurs in two of them. In both cases, brla is evoked in a very limited manner to discuss one specific technical operation, namely establishing support objects (e.g., stag’s antlers and a stone) to catch and anchor wandering dri, rather than the victim they possess and who is rescued from them.167 Moreover, the cultural background provided by Old Tibetan documents and the contemporary context of ethnographic data both inform us of the long-standing and wide-spread notion of a ‘soul’ or mobile vitality principle among highland speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages, for example the Tibetan bla, Gurung/Tamu pla/plah, East Bodish pra/pla/phla, Naxi ó-hâ’, amongst many others. Yet,

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

there are significant differences in the ways this concept is understood and represented. The definition of what bla means in Tibetan Plateau cultural contexts is repeatedly emphasised by scholars as being singular, with only one bla underpinning each human existence. However, this variant of the idea is aberrant within the wider region. In contrast, eastern Himalayan highland populations admit multiple souls – nine, seven, six, five and three are the more common enumerations – or a soul that is a divisible entity and which can thus exist simultaneously in different locations as ‘divisibles’. As I documented in chapter 2, this is certainly the case immediately south of lHo-brag among East Bodish speakers, whose languages also extend northwards to some extent onto the southern fringes of the Plateau very close to the site where dGa’-thang manuscripts were discovered. Indeed, the same multiple ‘soul’ concept is also clearly described in these dGa’-thang manuscripts. For example, in the Gnag rabs we find an explicit reference to ‘the human body with four souls’,168 and one thus cognate with Himalayan data but not with records from the Tibetan Plateau. Furthermore, these old ritual texts are full of ecological indicators that relate to the extended eastern Himalayas rather than the Tibetan Plateau or its cooler, higher and drier western peripheries. I discuss environmental and wild animal references from the ste’u and sha slungs rites in some detail in appendix J, to help establish provenance of the manuscript in or around lHo-brag. A significant number of the animal species concerned are only found along the extended eastern Himalayas. To that strong evidence, we can add the ritual tree/wood classification ‘nine son trees’ in the rnel dri ’dul ba rites. As mentioned above, this classification comes down to us as the ‘nine son trees of valleys’ (lung shing bu dgu) within the Srid-pa’i lha cult and it relates to two further ninefold classes of trees already known from Old Tibetan references. At least in the species identities given for ‘nine son trees’ in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, we find Rhododendron anthopogon (ba lu), Rhododendron setosum (su lu), the tall, perennial Artemisia myriantha (mkhan pa) and Mahonia napaulensis (skyer pa), which are at home in the eastern Himalayan highlands but not up upon the high, cold and dry Plateau immediately north. Some of these plants, such as Artemisia, are among the most common

used in local ritual cultures along the extended eastern Himalayas,169 whereas they are virtually absent in the same cultural contexts upon the Tibetan Plateau. Moreover, the material culture of the rnel dri ’dul ba rites generally depends upon use of branches or wood from a wide variety of different tree and shrub species. All of this reflects the rich flora typical of the heavily forested frontier valleys of southernmost Central Tibet, and the eastern Himalayas in general, and not the Tibetan Plateau highlands. Based upon these and other indicators in the content of the three old rites and the manuscript collections they occur in, we cannot unambiguously identify them as ‘Tibetan’ since they also appear to be ‘eastern Himalayan’. As for existing assessments that rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites belong to what others have called a “Bon tradition” which existed across Tibet, this is problematic at best in light of the evidence. The word bon does not appear at all in the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript, nor are any rites from the same or an earlier era of the type represented by ste’u and sha slungs known from older manuscripts. In the rnel dri ’dul ba text, the word bon is only infrequent, while its meanings there have nothing to do with any formal identity or movement. This is especially so in relation to any sense we might now consider “tradition”. The application of the word tradition in contemporary English would demand at least internal rhetorical evidence of both time depth and continuity being claimed, and this is definitely not the case here. One bon usage in the rnel dri ’dul ba text merely designates a single type of ritual specialist among a range of such figures appearing in the tales, including the gshen, tshe myi, ya ngal, and so forth, and whose roles are often not clearly distinguished from one another. The other bon usage – a single occurrence170 – represents the technical term ‘rite’, a specific meaning that is attested in both Old Tibetan and other later manuscripts recording rites for mundane purposes.171 Furthermore, and like the case of ste’u and sha slungs procedures, we know of no rites equivalent to rnel dri ’dul ba dated to the same or any earlier era from Tibet. Since the “Bon” identity now claimed by scholars for these littleknown eleventh century rites is often articulated by stressing continuities between Old Tibetan documents and later sources, these too can be examined.

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Reuse of Language from Older Texts We can examine what continuity represents in cases of common words and phrasing occurring in both pre-eleventh Old Tibetan and later ca. eleventh century ritual texts. From the earlier work of scholars like Rolf Stein and more recent studies by Joanna Bialek,172 we are already well-aware that shared vocabulary spanning the eleventh century period is frequently associated with transformations of meaning and new contexts of application. A term like slungs in the Sha slungs text cannot be described naively as a ‘continuity’ or ‘survival’ from Old Tibetan. It has been subject to an intelligent and subtle creative process, and its later use embodies significant transformations of meaning and application. We can also be quite certain that administrators stationed in east Turkestan during the Tibetan empire, and ritual specialists somewhere in southernmost Central Tibet several centuries later, represented very diverse types of agents whose intensions for slungs served different needs. Other terms such as bdur, yags, sbre’u and to some extent dri in our sources can more easily be demonstrated as continuities with Old Tibetan usages due to their application in cognate cultural fields over time. Yet, these are not the only two

options available to explain and define common vocabulary we find in the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites and Old Tibetan documents. We have examples of very direct and intentional reuse of words and identities without transformation. We also find reuse with modifications for which we cannot discern transformative intensions, namely they may have been incidental or convenient to an extent. There are also forms of creative ‘cut and paste’ reuse based upon possible misunderstandings or lost context, for instance due to oral transmissions, use of incomplete manuscripts, or the result of folk etymologies and language transformation more generally. Here I will initially give examples of these possibilities from my analysis of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, followed by examples from the Ste’u and Sha slungs. My intention is limited to revealing the nature and scope of the constructedness of these texts based upon older materials. A full linguistic analysis by a specialist scholar, for example, would yield other results and reveal different aspects. Cases of very direct and intentional reuse of Old Tibetan words and identities without transformation are common throughout the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript. One instance is the many srin names occurring in rnel dri ’dul ba

source

land

lord

srin

gshen/bon

itj 734

dBye-mo Yul-drug

Khar-ba

Yug-mo

dBye gshen Kar-bu

Rnel dri

dBye-mo Yul-grug

Khar-ba

Yug-mo

dBye gshen Mkhar-bu

itj 734

mChims-yul dGra-sul

Ne’u

Pod

shen Do-rab ’Bring-rab

Rnel dri

mChims-yul rGu-sul

Ne’u-sing

Pha

gshen rGu-gdo

itj 734

sKyi-ro lJang-sngon

rMang-po

Tsa-lung-zha’i/zhal

gshen rGyan-ngar

Rnel dri

sKyi-ro lJang-sngon

rMangs-po

—

gshen rGyan-ngar

itj 734

rTsang-shul mTho

Phwa’a

Po-da, Pod-de

shen sNyal-ngag

Rnel dri

rTsang-shul mThon-ba’

Ya-bo

Zla-gar

gshen sNyal-ngag

itj 734

gNubs-shul King-drug

Sribs-pa

rKang-pran

Rong-po lDe-khar

Rnel dri

gNubs-yul Gling-grug

Sris-pa

Bu-rkun

gshen Rum-po

itj 734

Yar-khyim Sogs-[yar/kar]

’O-lde sPu-rgyal

Pa-sna Ring-po

lde gshen rMun-bu

Rnel dri

[Yar]-lungs Sogs-ka

rMun-bu

Pag-po sNa-ring

lde gshen rMun-bu

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î Figure 27. Examples of narrative identities shared between the IOL Tib J 734 and Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscripts.

Old Cosmologica l a nd R itua l Pr ecur sor s of the Sr id-pa’i lh a Cult

narratives that occur together with other basic tale settings and identities. Figure 27 compares a sample from rnel ’dri tales with ritual narratives from the Old Tibetan document IOL Tib J 734. The examples on figure 27 represent systematic reuse of identities, and they are by no means an exhaustive survey. Another, more random range of details for building up rnel dri tales can also be found in IOL Tib J 734 and the document IOL Tib J 738. For example, in a rnel dri tale set in [Yar]-lungs Sogs-ka, the beneficiary of the rite is Yar-lha Sham-po, while in the Old Tibetan Yar-khyim Sogs-[yar (/kar)] tale, an effigy (for a ransom?) is set up for Yar-lha Sham-po by a ritual specialist. 173 Or, a sman of the ‘alpine slates’ (g.ya sman) is discussed in a rnel dri tale with the wording g.ya sman sil ma[r], while we find closely cognate Old Tibetan wording g.ya sman ni si li ma in IOL Tib J 738.174 The parts of IOL Tib J 734 in which such correspondences occur contain a series of antecedent tales requiring ransom techniques involving srin. Since rnel dri ’dul ba also includes ransoms in relation to srin, the reuses here are very rational in terms of common cultural fields with overlapping content. On the other hand, there is also a great deal that differs between these older and later texts in terms of other identities, usages, motifs, rite techniques and most significantly ritual goals. We cannot always know which – if any – surviving Old Tibetan documents may have represented potential sources here. For example, some of the same or similar material just cited also occurs in PT 1285. However, access to some written or oral transmissions related – in ways we do not yet understand – to such Old Tibetan documents must account for this degree of specific correspondence. There are examples in the texts of language reuse with modifications for which it is hard to discern any specific transformative intensions, and which rather appear incidental or convenient. One rnel dri ’dul ba rite features a sman bon named ’Bring-dang who ensures that the purified existence of a deceased finally ‘departs/goes’ (gshegs) to the sman. In the account of death rites in the Old Tibetan document PT 1134, we find a rgya bon named Brim-tang whose function it is to set up ‘nets’ (rgya) of some type for funeral structures.175 In another account of death rites in PT 1042, it is said ‘the

sman bon po goes to fetch/lead (drangs) the sman’.176 It suggests we might be observing a construction process in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript which selects and combines approximately cognate materials to attain a different end result convenient for the author/compiler’s specific intentions, albeit that the selections could be fairly arbitrary within certain sub-fields. For an example for the final case of reuse, we can examine the above quoted rnel dri ’dul ba description of the doors passed through on the vertical ritual journey. There, the wording se ba zangs gyi sgo, then sgo cig bgrod and sgo mo occurs on consecutive lines, with se ba ‘wild rose’ logically conforming to the context of a series of ‘doors’ (sgo) indexed to woody plant species throughout the text. In the death rites described in Old Tibetan document PT 1042, one reads se’i sgor gshegs (f. 42), and in PT 1134 se mo bgrod (f. 9, et passim). However, in those Old Tibetan contexts, reference to the obscure term se relates to the ‘grave’ or ‘tomb’ and its entrance or opening (se’i sgo). It is now also understood that se had been the object of a complex series of folk etymologies (e.g., se gru bzhi, se mo, se mo gru bzhi, etc.) which began being generated already during the era of Old Tibetan use.177 Such processes most likely informed the development of a ritual vocabulary for rnel dri ’dul ba rites. Both Ste’u and Sha slungs texts offer the same range of examples demonstrating such cases of reuse of Old Tibetan language from ritual texts. Two particular variations upon them will be the focus here. One remarkable feature of both texts is the number of rare or uncommon diminutive forms they employ to designate crucial aspects of myth references and ritual content. These include ste’u ne’u, bye’u, sbre’u and lhe’u, while rnel in the rnel dri ’dul ba rite is hypothesised to be closely related to ne’u. The forms ste’u, ne’u, bye’u and lhe’u are all found together in a single Old Tibetan document describing death rites, namely PT 1134, albeit that there we read the’u rather than ste’u, and, while sbre’u is absent from the same document, two of its likely transformation precursors, brang and sbra, occur with the same meaning in a closely cognate field. All these diminutives are of interest for different reasons, yet here I will focus upon the example of bye’u as a concept category because of what it reveals

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about transformations during contexts of reuse, and possibly also about early ideas of ancestors. There are quite a few relevant Old Tibetan bye’u ‘small bird’ references available for comparison with usages in the Ste’u and Sha slungs texts, but especially in the document PT 1134, as well as in PT 1136 and PT 1285. Here are five examples related to the Sha slungs text: 1. Bya gshen ’ jon mo (f. Cha-2r), a ‘small forest bird’ which ‘continually leads the way in the forest’, a property of sman, found in lHo-ga and with a tendency to stray into the trees. In PT 1136, a bya gshen ’Jon-mo is a human ritual specialist who performs death rites together with pha gShen-rab kyi Myi-bo for the deceased lHo-rgyal Byang-mo-tsun. 178 The only thing in common, apart from their names, in the older and later citations, is the lHo reference occurring in both contexts. 2. Kang ka (f. Cha-2r), a long beaked protector of small birds from lHo-ga, who holds sway over the realm of trees, and stops dispersal of trains of the sman’s small birds into the trees. In PT 1134, the gang ka performs some undefined role – perhaps by calling pu ru ru? – to find a travel path (’gro lam) in the rocks for the purposes of a ritual journey by a psychopomp sheep during a death rite. 179 3. Rma bya sgag mo (f. Pa-2r), a peahen, a protector of the sman’s small birds that must stop them from dispersing, it also shows the way to go, and is offered as property. In PT 1134, the sgeg sa, a peacock or peahen (cf. CT sgeg ldan syn. rma bya), together with the khug sta[’] or swallow (CT khug rta), is the direct object of a specific rite technique, ‘When the small bird swallow proceeds, tickle the end of its tail. When the small bird peacock proceeds, tickle the top of its tail.’180 4. Brag bye’u in context with brag la (f. Ca-2r), is a ‘small rock bird’ showing the way to go in the rocks, which means the way taken by sman,181 whose property they are said to be. In PT 1134, bye’u appears in relation to ‘seeking a path in the rocks’ (l. 190, brag la / lam tshol ba) as part of an itinerary for a psychopomp sheep accompanying the deceased. In the Sha slungs text, ‘in the rocks’ (brag la) is also reused as a generalised setting in which small bird eggs of artificial materials hatch out. In PT 1134, a crane, a very large bird, also

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hatches out of eggs, but those eggs are without any distinction and not in the rocks.182 5. Gtsos to re and lam ba (f. Ca-2r) are both unusual and otherwise unattested, untraceable names for birds. They are most likely products of reuse of text when an author/compiler lacked full knowledge of vocabulary meaning. The name gtsos to re can be compared with the PT 1134 wording gtsos / dgo re (l. 240), and the name lam ba with lam ’par (l. 170). Both gtsos and lam appear multiple times within PT 1134, and while gtsos has nothing to do with birds in that context, lam in PT 1134 is closely related to some actions of birds. A strategic and well-informed author/compiler would have had to wilfully, and illogically ignore the attested meaning ‘Tibetan gazelle’ for dgo, which is completely incongruous in relation to a bird name. However, since the alternative words nyi gri and nyig are used elsewhere in the Sha slungs text to define a Tibetan gazelle (see appx. J), this indicates that the word dgo carrying the meaning ‘Tibetan gazelle’ was unknown to the author/compiler. Comment can also be made on a possible source for the name Kha-la rTsang-stod in the Ste’u text to designate an ancestral location from where offspring who will become new humans originate. We only know this particular form of the name from the Old Tibetan document PT 1060 in the catalogue of ‘minor kingdoms’ section. That document lists Kha-la rTsang-stod having a rTsang lha who is bye’u and a rTsang lord who is phywa.183 Rolf Stein considered bye’u to be a diminutive of phya in this context, 184 in which case it must refer to a type of ancestor who is a lha. In the Ste’u text, new life comes down from the lha abode via a phya abode located at the sun and moon, where it is also protected by phya ‘sons’, and when descending further it is aided by bye’u birds. The old associations here are rather telling, and probably also reflect earlier mythical and lexical antecedents of the Ste’u text. The above discussion raises the important and broader question of how these Tibetan language manuscripts discovered in southernmost Central Tibet around lHo-brag might have come to share so many details of content with the Old Tibetan ritual texts found along the southern Silk Road, some 1500 kilometres further north? We have but

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little evidence for attempting to address this question. I will brief ly refer to it within a more general discussion of the Tibetan Plateau margins in my closing remarks for Reflections III at the end of the volume.

Ethnographic Traces There are indeed many cases of contemporary ethnographic data which can be meaningfully compared with specific content in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, Ste’u and Sha slungs texts. For instance, we have already seen in previous chapters (e.g., ch. 13) how small birds play a central symbolic and ritual role in relation to rites and myths related to life’s origins and cyclic revitalisation in shamanic tradition complexes along the extended eastern Himalayas. Here I will give several more summarised examples from ethnographies relevant to the content of these two old manuscripts. One set of cases refers to the practice and material culture of ritual, the first two examples of which are of rites I recorded during field research on the cult of Srid-pa’i lha in eastern Bhutan, while the third describes the most common and visible post-mortem practice used throughout Bhutan. A second set of cases are reports from further afield. They concern societies of highland and hill-dwelling speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages of the extended eastern Himalayas and related areas both north and south of them. Together, they attest to a wider, popular belief in the post-mortem circulation and identity of human existence among such societies.

Lha Conception Rites In the Srid-pa’i lha cult as practiced in eastern Bhutan, directly south of lHo-brag, various rites are performed in relation to ancestral deities stationed at the top of the sky so that barren women or infertile couples conceive new children. Two forms of a rite named sifu or seefu (cf. written sri’u and sri’u phru) were described in the documentation from Tsango (ch. 9) and Changmadung (ch. 10), and their summary recapitulation here reveals they are descended from the ste’u and sha slungs rites. In local Srid-pa’i festivals, the

ancestors are lead down from the sky via thirteen-level itineraries which can include the lha abode, the sun, moon and stars, a realm or location named gTsang-stod up the vertical axis, the ideal cosmic mountain further representing the vertical axis, the intermediate space/atmosphere, clouds, the descending slopes of the mountain side and various tree species. The ultimate resting point upon earth at the ritual site is a living juniper or similar alpine tree, and/or a fresh cut tree sapling which has bark and side branches removed up to an apical topknot of leaves, plus some decorations or ritual devices added, and erected into the earth. One of the primary lha identities invariably involved is lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. The descending ancestral deity is symbolically and linguistically equated with birds, and appearances of birds before and during the rites are considered harbingers of his arrival. The ritual specialist calls for new children for mothers or parents, and any children conceived following the rites are socially designated in relation to their lha ancestor ‘parent’. They are colloquially categorised as sifu or seefu meaning ‘offspring’, while those performing explicit roles in worship of the lha are commonly designated as lha sras, lha’i bu, lha’i sras mo and lha’i bu mo. Personal names of these lha-conceived children also reflect the identity of their sky ancestor. If, for example, that is Gurzhe (literally the ‘Gu[r] Ancestor’), they receive a name incorporating the element ‘Gu-’, ‘Gur-’ or ‘Guru-’, such that a male child will be named Gurzhe, Gurulha, Guru Tsering or similar, and a female Gurumo, and so forth.185 They may also be named generically after lha as their parent/ancestor, with males called Lhadenla, Lhala, and Lhadarla and females Lhamo, Lhadenmo, Lhakey, and so on. Almost all features of these rites and the subsequent naming patterns involved represent the identical cultural pattern found in ste’u and sha slungs rites.

Ya-ngal Elimination Rites At more northern sites closest to lHo-brag, the cult of Srid-pa’i lha includes rites termed sel ‘elimination’, for which Ya-ngal Gyim-kong is the primordial initiator figure in the Sel rabs manuscripts. Different stages purify and thus open the path for transit of the ancestral lha up and down

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the vertical axis, via thirteen and nine levels, between the top of the sky and the door of the domestic house. The rites include: purifying fumigation (bsang) using combustible materials from ninefold ‘father’, ‘mother’ and ‘son’ types of trees and shrubs; ablution (khrus) with an array of waters from different rivers; lustration (tshan) employing a variety of waters ‘scented’ by contact with different plants and environments; as well as downward suppression rites involving sets of sman and bon auxiliaries. Nearly all the techniques, the cosmographic scheme, the identity of Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, and a wide variety of other content in the cult also occur in the rnel dri ’dul ba rites from dGa’-thang. This applies right down to the fine details of individual rite techniques. I will cite but a single instance from the Lhamoche festival at Tsango in the Khoma Chu valley, a site a few days foot march from the nearest settlements in lHo-brag across a pass formerly used for trade. At the point during Lhamoche rites when an ancestral lha is dispatched back up through the levels of the sky, a series of thirteen small holes are excavated in the earth. They are aligned in a row directly in front of, and facing, the ‘lha tree’ (lha shing) that is the terminal point of the deity’s descending itinerary to the ritual site. Into each hole, a one and a half metre long branch of the woody shrub locally named sershing or ‘yellow wood’ (Mahonia napaulensis, CT skyer pa) is inserted so that it stands erect. This plant is commonly employed in rites to make ritual stakes or daggers used against negative spirit beings. A few flat, plain stones set at the base of each branch form a kind of miniature stone slab altar of the type used everywhere for Srid-pa’i lha worship. Upon each of these, three rough, natural white stones are placed in a small pile (pl. 207). Finally, when the deity has departed upwards again, each stone is hurled up into the sky to clear defilement and each sershing stem is broken to seal the path back up to the sky to avoid it being used by other negative beings. Once the deity departs and reaches the first level of the sky, it is considered to wait there for a short time before ascending finally out of range, and thus a last chance to appeal for its favours occurs. For this stage of the rites, the local expression them is used with a poignant double meaning. In the Khoma dialect of Dzala them means ‘tarrying’ or ‘hesitating’ (cf. Tibetan them bu ‘stopping’) upon the ‘threshold/doorsill’ (them, cf. CT ma them). Apart from

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é Plate 207. Altar arrangement for vertical dispatch of ancestral deities up through the levels of the sky and closure of their path during a Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

very minor variations, every detail I recorded during my field research for this process occurs in the rnel dri ’dul ba rites described above and at other points in the same text.186

Canopy and Lattice Structures in Life and Death Rites During Srid-pa’i festivals staged around the Kurtö district, in the far north of the cult’s distribution closest to lHo-brag, temporary ‘tent’-like structures play a central role in rites that feature the Srid-pa’i ancestral deities locally known as Cha/Pcha. Their construction, use and the symbolism contextualising them all strongly recall the ‘tent’-like ste’u and sbre’u structures with cloth canopy and a wooden latticework frame in the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript (pls. 197, 198, 199, 200). The Kurtö villages of Tabi, Zhamling and Ney at which these rites have been documented are all very old,

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and attested as already having been well-established settlements in indigenous fifteenth century historical sources.187 At Ney, on the west bank of the Kuri Chu river, these ‘tent’like structures are termed semkhar (CT sems mkhar?), while at sites on the east bank of the river they are termed zhekhang (CT zhal khang?). The semkhar/zhekhang have three functions during the rites. Primarily, they act as temporary abodes for the Cha/Pcha ancestral deities who are invited down to the sacred grove from the top of the sky. They are also used at various stages to house special egg-like stones called gangola embodying the cha/pcha mobile vitality principles of the ancestral deities. Thus embodied, these mobile vitality principles then represent tangible sources of new life and vitality – also called the cha/pcha (phy[w]a) of the deities – to be made available to the worship community, as well as for divinations, both described in chapter 7. The semkhar/zhekhang ‘tents’ are erected directly at the base of the main cha/pcha shing trees in the sacred grove, and right next to small stone shrines in which the egg-like gangola stones are stored for safety between festivals. The ‘tent’-like semkhar/zhekhang structure is around one and a half metres in height, formed of stout, long Artemisia branches arranged overlapping or loosely threaded together as a frame, with a pine branch sometimes for support, with white, raw silk clothes draped over them as a canopy. Furthermore, the arrival and departure of Cha/Pcha deities who occupy these structures during rites is closely associated with, and symbolised by, the coming and going of white birds throughout Kurtö. Where semkhar/zhekhang are erected, we also find special rites dedicated to mimicking different birds (see ch. 7), and to chasing or catching flocks of small birds. For instance, at Tabi (and previously Zhamling) on the east bank of the Kuri Chu river, one such rite was called Tsiligpae zur, with tsiligpa referring to a species of tiny bird that flies through the forest in flocks making short, high-pitched ‘chirping’ calls. 188 Ritual participants must first chase the tsiligpa birds along the route they take, after which they are caught or trapped. At Ney village, on the opposite bank of the Kuri Chu river from Zhamling, the same bird name, spoken tsilikpa, is held to be that of the assistants of the Cha/Pcha deities who are recognised

as Srid-pa’i lha ancestors in that community. The semkhar/ zhekhang structures we know of can differ from certain sbre’u as illustrated in the Ste’u manuscript, which appear to have a lattice form over the top of the cloth canopy (pls. 198, 199, 200), rather than beneath it. However, at least one of the ste’u illustrated in the manuscript does indeed closely resemble them (pl. 197 lower frame). In summary, the general morphological characteristics of semkhar/zhekhang structures, and their close associations with trees, birds, eggs and the virtual presence of lives and new life which descend from a distant ancestral realm above are all closely cognate with what we know of ste’u and sbre’u structures in the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript. Assuming the oral terms semkhar and zhekhang are equivalent to Classical Tibetan sems mkhar and zhal khang, respectively, which is highly likely, then the terms themselves may also be of interest in relation to what we know of the old ste’u and sbre’u structures. Sems mkhar and zhal khang both evoke a series of Old Tibetan terms for ritual items or structures used in death rites. Classical Tibetan sems has the honorific thugs, and in some Old Tibetan manuscripts for death rites we find terms and phrases including thugs kyi zhal and thugs kang [< khang], thugs gur as well as smra zhal and zhal dang sku rten (cf. zhal bu and lha zhal elsewhere).189 While the meanings for some of these older terms are by no means clear to us in all cases, they generally seem to signify something like a representation related to, or a simulacrum of, the deceased. They also appear related to the ‘mental principle’ (sems/thugs) and its presence or containment in some way at or in a structure or material item (khang, gur, sku rten, etc.). Thus, the terms that have persisted in the Sridpa’i lha cult in Kurtö may echo or even retain something of this earlier terminology and its significations. We assume this reflects earlier reuse of vocabulary from Old Tibetan texts for death rites to create the ritual language in the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript. The practices being referred to here might also be found in the very last traces of older, non-Buddhist death rites in the immediately neighbouring Khoma Chu river valley, a major northern tributary of the Kuri Chu. Informants from Khoma reported that, up until a few years prior to my field research there, a tent-like structure of some one and a half metres in height resembling the

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é Figure 28. Wooden latticework frame design for plah simulacrum of the deceased used during Gurung/Tamu death rites. êPlate 208. The plah simulacrum of the deceased covered in white cloth used during Gurung/Tamu death rites. ë Plate 209. Apical wooden ornaments on pine tree saplings used for post-mortem memorial rites, eastern Bhutan, 2014. í Plate 210. Tree-like ste’u on folio Cha-1v of the Ste’u manuscript.

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semkhar/zhekhang was erected for local death rites. Some orthodox reforms of local death rites at the hands of Buddhist agents then eliminated use of this structure.190 Prior to that point, there existed a hybrid practice for death rites, which combined local customs with formal Buddhist rituals conducted by a lama or gomchen ritual specialist. An egg was placed inside the white cloth ‘tent’ structure, and this was for the ‘mental principle’ (thugs) of the deceased to temporarily reside in. I have observed this same use of an egg during secondary funerals elsewhere along the eastern Himalayan ranges, for example, among the Idu Mishmi of Dibang Valley. The whole arrangement equated to a simulacrum of the deceased person. While the semkhar/zhekhang used during Cha/Pcha festivals are dedicated to facilitate proper arrival of new life and revitalisation, their analogue in the departure of a life, present only in virtual form in a Buddhist-influenced environment, seems obvious in the funeral rites at Khoma. Elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas, a range of cloth-covered latticework frames and tent- or hut-like structures and effigies or simulacra are used within various shamanic tradition complexes when calling and/or dispatching the ‘soul’ of a deceased person to a post-mortem destination. The examples depicted in figure 28 and plate 208 show the wooden latticework frame design for, and an actual instance of, a plah simulacrum representing the deceased person in the Gurung/Tamu death rites named pae or pwe. The one metre high plah frame must be made of specific woods (fig. 28). It is covered with cloth (pl. 208), and when the ‘soul’ (Gurung/Tamu: plah) of the deceased is summoned to inhabit it, the shaman calls out, “The soul has returned in the form of a bird”, while some reports also add “The Gurung soul enters a white bird and flies off into the land of the ancestors.”191 A plah structure typically contains one or more additional items which the soul of the deceased identifies with or makes a sign of its presence through, including bamboo tubes containing nail clippings and hair from the dead person, and chickens which signal the soul’s presence. The shaman’s chants include antecedent narratives of primordial deaths and the pae/pwe rites originally performed for them, as well as chants comparing f lowers

with the ‘soul’.192 In the northern Gurung version of the rite, the shaman invokes five birds indexed to deities, those of the btsan, bdud, klu, sa bdag and lha, and it is the lha’s bird which is given preference.193 As with the semkhar/zhekhang used by Kurtöp and Dzala speakers in north-east Bhutan, there is a great deal about the construction, use and symbolism associated with the Gurung/Tamu plah structure that allows us to hypothesise strong continuities with ste’u and sbre’u structures in the text passages and illustrations of the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript.

Post-Mortem Tree Rites It is almost considered compulsory in Buddhist communities throughout Bhutan that the family of a deceased person conduct a post-mortem memorial rite involving the erection of pine tree saplings cut for the purpose. These thin, tall pine poles are typically set up upon a high hill or remote, open site somewhat distant from habitation. The ideal number nowadays is 108, although even erecting a single sapling is considered to fulfil the obligation of this rite. Each tree stem should have its bark and any branchlets stripped off, with Buddhist prayer flags, ideally printed with the six-syllable mantra, attached to the length of the stem. In some remote rural areas, an apical topknot of foliage can be left atop the sapling’s stem. 194 Nowadays, this is often replaced with a symbolic wooden ornament in the shape of a sword with a disk around its base (pl. 209). Present-day Buddhist representations aside, the form and position of these ornaments strongly resemble the apex of tree-like ste’u depicted in the Ste’u manuscript (pl. 210). This post-mortem rite has to be performed within a certain period following main death rites, often within twenty-one days, but this varies between practitioners, with forty-nine days being an ideal maximum. The rite can also be repeated annually over several years following a death, and family members can gather with alcohol at any instance of setting up the saplings. The rite is now universally considered as being Buddhist. However, it lacks any formal doctrinal basis, has no single technical term to describe it, nor any orthodox ritual text, and is performed entirely by laypersons. The number 108, which is now taken as a mark of the rite being Buddhist, is also applied to other

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non-Buddhist mortuary practices of the laity in the region.195 Opinions about the rite’s purpose are generally cognate, including helping to quickly separate the soul of the deceased from the living, or helping the soul find the ‘lha’s white path’ (lha lam dkar po) to a positive post-mortem destiny, as well as gaining merit for the deceased. I think this rite can most fruitfully be considered a later Buddhist adaptation of the use of tree-like ste’u as found in the Ste’u text.

Notions about Circulation of Lives In closing these examples, we can cite ethnographically attested conceptions of cycles of existence among highland and hill peoples speaking Tibeto-Burman languages within the regional neighbourhood that closely match the logic of circulation found or implied in the three old texts we are dealing with, as well as in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Mundane ideas of human life circulating back and forth, via death and birth, across the transitions between realms of ancestorhood and personhood, and in which origins and descent are intimately identified, are not at all uncommon along the extended eastern Himalayas, as well as to a lesser extent along the eastern Tibetan Plateau margins. The most common form of these ideas I am aware of today are people’s express aspirations that their deceased relatives take birth once again within the immediate fold of the family or proximate kin group, and their acceptance that this is what results. Mona Schrempf published documentation of such a case among Tibetans in contemporary Amdo (Qinghai): Lhamo’s twenty-one year old cousin, who was her dearest female friend, died in a tragic accident. Lhamo’s aunt and uncle had expressed their hopes that their deceased daughter would be reborn to Lhamo as her child. The two cousins had been playmates and very close childhood friends, like two sisters. The death of Lhamo’s cousin was therefore traumatic for the whole extended family. It was clear that only a rebirth of the deceased young woman within her family would be able to remedy the rupture and pain left behind by her sudden and premature death. [...] Lhamo eventually gave birth

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to a healthy baby girl. Nobody seemed surprised at the fact that her baby turned out to be a girl. It was obvious to everybody that she was the lost cousin, her former best friend reborn.196 The second case of this type, reported by Anne-Marie Blondeau from a Tibetan cleric’s oral testimony given during the mid-1980s, is of rites employed for the parents of infants who die. As a young cleric, the informant first gained his knowledge of apotropaic rites (gto bcos) from his uncle, a sngag pa practitioner in the Khams region of the southeastern Tibetan Plateau. He then worked as a performer of rites for the laity in the Powo region on the south-eastern frontier of Central Tibet, further along the eastern Himalayas from Bhutan. Following the preparation of an infant’s corpse with a range of ritual procedures, during which its mother must turn the corpse’s head in the direction of the sky sman (gnam sman), the ritual specialist invoked the deceased multiple times with the following type of appeals: Oh, you little baby (sri’u) who has passed beyond, by the power of this rite of Oppressing the Sri (sri gnon), ripen what is not yet ripened. Take the body of a ‘black-headed person’, and in this intermediate space between sky and earth, come back as a child of your mother and father! [...The informant then reported:] If one pronounces these wishes with execution of the rite in the correct manner, the baby will be reborn within that year as the child of its two parents.197 A third example is found in the social and cultural lives of the Mru people from the Chittagong Hill Tracts, that Lorenz Löffler carefully documented over several decades. 198 Like many highland peoples speaking Tibeto-Burman languages along the extended eastern Himalayan zone and its branch regions, premodern Mru held the notion that each person’s existence was based upon a divisible and mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’. The Mru considered that this basis for human life combined seven ‘souls’ (lüm-laa). At the time of death, the Mru lüm-laa undertook a post-mortem journey along a route for which psychopomp animals that were sacrificed assisted the deceased to travel. Depending upon the

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person’s life, one end to the journey could culminate in a vertical itinerary led by rok-mi shamans up to, and arriving in, the ancestral realm of the sky:

[O]ne of them would accompany the deceased on his journey. When they arrived in the sky, the shaman would take the traveller, who had now become a child again, to its parents. The child would feel ashamed at first, thinking itself to be dirty and smelly, and unable to believe that these people really were its parents. After a while, however, it would settle down and feel at home [...] The soul of the dead person does not have to stay in heaven. If it wishes, it can come down to earth again and be reborn as a child (wang-ru).199 Mru children could be specifically named after an ancestor if evidence was found that they were a wang-ru or ‘comegrown’ rebirth of the lüm-laa soul of that ancestor whose features, such as distinguishing physical marks, could be recognised on the baby. Such a reborn wang-ru ancestor could descend again from the sky world back into the womb of a human mother belonging to either the deceased’s uterine or patriline kin. 200 It was considered that babies who were sickly, who cried a lot and refused to feed were wangru rebirths who had gone unrecognised, and thus not been named appropriately after an ancestor. They had to be ritually renamed.

Conclusions These ethnographic cases just cited must be read together with the most compelling case of all, that of the contemporary shalung rite described briefly in chapter 13 and articulated even more closely with the content of the Sha slungs manuscript in appendix J. In my opinion, all these ethnographic cases demonstrate instances of long-term continuities with the specific cosmological outlook, language, mythical content and rite techniques of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts. Moreover, many of them do so within a geographical region immediately

adjacent to both the known origin location of dGa’-thang manuscripts and the highly probable origin location of the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript (see appx. J). These conclusions are only strengthened when we consider many other ethnographic details from the cult with details found in these three eleventh century rites. To take but one example, the chanted itinerary for the lha descending from the top of the sky at Tsango (ch. 9) has unique and striking similarities to that given for descent of small lha offspring and ‘young ones’ and their ancestral identities given in the Ste’u text. We are left with no doubt that this millennium-old localised ritual culture evident in southernmost Central Tibet represents a primary precursor of much that we now observe in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. While rich continuities can indeed be demonstrated, there is also much evidence of transformation between the world of these old texts and that of the ethnographic present. The same reality is evident in the study of language reuse in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, Ste’u and Sha slungs texts in relation to Old Tibetan materials. These three texts from southernmost Central Tibet are sophisticated later constructions based upon a pool of older linguistic and cultural resources represented in a range of Old Tibetan documents, and not only those dedicated to rites and myths, but also in some instances to administration and law. The extensive later reuse of Old Tibetan words and phrasing frequently bears only indirect or no meaningful connections back to their original environments of use. Some scholars have already invoked descriptions of continuity and continuous tradition to describe relationships between Old Tibetan ritual texts, the dGa’-thang manuscripts and other texts they have labelled as “Bon”.201 Such assessments, which appear to be aligned with Tibetan religious historiography, are simplistic and even tendentious for the case of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts. For everything these later texts appear to share with the older ones, we can also demonstrate an even more impressive accounting of transformations and innovations. The question of how best to characterise or identify the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites also closely reflects how

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we can also best characterise or identify the content and nature of the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself. They all share much in common, but what is absent from them is equally revealing. An example can be found in the cult of mountains (but especially their peaks or summits) and their deities invariably invoked nowadays as a central and “indigenous” feature of Tibetan ritual culture, with Samten Karmay making the strongest appeal so far for a wide-spread and ancient “notion of the ancestral mountain” as being something quintessentially “Tibetan”. 202 If mountains are estimated as being so central, why are they completely absent from the central ritual concerns expressed in any manuscript from dGa’-thang and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript as well? This absence of the cultic centrality or even general ritual significance of mountains is equally true of the Srid-pa’i lha cult that is a development in part from the same background as these older texts. In both cosmological and geographical terms, the ritual solutions on offer in all these texts and practices, whether ancient or present-day, are to be found up in the sky, or sometimes up and down the courses of river valleys. Tibetans past and present may well regard mountains as their ancestral realm. However, many peoples of the extended eastern Himalayas speaking non-Tibetic TibetoBurman languages rather associate the sky and the river course with ancestors and their significance in terms of ritual, while the mountain remains absent or when present it is peripheral. This pattern is true for speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages such as Naxi and Qiang among whom we find the closest ethnographic cognates for Srid-pa’i lha worship (see chs. 17, 18).203 The rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites represent a complex interplay between only certain cultural patterns known from the Tibetan Plateau, along with others recorded from the eastern Himalayas. Their uniqueness appears more indicative of localised agency and socio-cultural phenomena present in southernmost Central Tibet, namely in and around lHo-brag, and the adjacent Himalayan areas to the south, but so far not known from elsewhere, and particularly not from the Tibetan Plateau. Beyond the use of written Tibetan language itself and a few portable myth motifs in the texts, we cannot simply identify the tradition

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they represent as “Tibetan”, for they are also most certainly Himalayan in many key respects. They are localised within a contiguous interface between southern Tibetan Plateau margins and eastern Himalayan highlands, and their content resonates strongly with what other eastern highland and hill populations who speak non-Tibetic Tibeto-Burman languages think and do. This sums up how we must also characterise the cult, which is now at home in the Himalayas, but which has some of its roots in this transition zone straddling both the high Plateau lands and the valleys and hills to the south. As we will see in the following chapters, the most likely earlier agents behind the cult are themselves not typical “Tibetans”, and have more the appearance of being ancient transition populations who span both the Plateau highlands and lower hill country. Finally, and again very much like the cult itself, the case for identifying the old rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites as “Bon” needs to be critically justified based upon specific and transparent criteria. Within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, both historical internal and ethnographic autonymic bon references are certainly plentiful. However, as I demonstrated throughout this entire study, bon has multiple meanings within the cult, meanings not necessarily or at all cognate with other phenomena commonly labelled “Bon”. In many local contexts of the cult’s existence such bon references are neither rhetorically necessary nor even used among participants who are not the leading ritual specialists chanting texts. The rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites come down to us bereft of any contextualising information regarding social practice and agency, while the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscript is the only one to even contain the word bon, and then albeit as a specific technical term cognate with what occurs in the cult. Vague and unqualified identification of these old texts as “Bon”, or as examples of some much greater “Bon tradition” of “Bon religion” is thus misleading in scholarly contexts. It is also potentially counter-productive since these sweeping designations mask – by causing us to ignore or be blind to – valuable evidence of diversity and complexity across past times and spaces. We can cautiously term the rnel dri ’dul ba, ste’u and sha slungs rites as ‘bon’-identified. This could only be valid and meaningful

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in relation to other records of rites and myths expressing and directed towards mundane goals. They would be those with which we can demonstrate continuities that we also actually understand – such as language reuse, and the various transformations this can entail – and for which we have proper provenance information, at very least in terms of geographical location, dating, and ideally also agency of production and use. Application of such criteria will rule out of consideration a great deal of materials and phenomena currently classed as “Bon” by others unless an evidence-based justification for doing so can be provided.

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16.

Regional Origins and Spread of the Cult – The Migrant Legacy

16.1 Hypothesis A significant part of the ‘bon’-identified mythic and ritual content of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, conveyed as it is in Tibetan language, represents strong evidence of cultural transfer via migrations from the southernmost central Tibetan Plateau southwards into those Himalayan valleys in which the cult exists today. Moreover, the origin narratives of the oldest worship communities in the cult explicitly claim homelands and places of origin on the southern central Tibetan Plateau. The migrant legacy hypothesis first proposes that the most likely north to south migrant groups involved in this transfer are represented by those clan and lineage identities coincident or very closely associated with the worship communities practising the cult. This point is based upon the fact that the Srid-pa’i lha cult is an inherently conservative social phenomenon. As a form of ancestor worship, its participants inherit this ritual activity by fact of birth, with present-day worship communities – but especially the main hereditary roles involved – representing distant descendants of original migrant groups. The second proposal is that the most likely candidates for original migrants carrying the ‘bon’-identified stratum of the cult further south is the population known from thirteenth- and fourteenth century historical sources as the Shar Dung of lHo-brag, and more specifically a group of little-known regional clans who appear to have been components of the Shar Dung population.

16.2 Sources on Migration Most communities who worship Srid-pa’i lha can produce one or more origin narratives stating that some component

of their ancestral background had been migrants from elsewhere. In the great majority of cases, the direction of origins from which migrants are claimed to have arrived is the north and, even more explicitly, from named sites and areas upon the southern central Tibetan Plateau. This pattern of assigning northern origins and southward migrations is found right along the eastern Himalayan highlands. The claim is so common that some highland groups who have no migration history or even remote likelihood of coming from Tibet have frequently emulated it. Such emulated accounts usually betray themselves immediately due to their lack of specificity about ancestral topography, migration route information, and genealogical links in terms of ancestral names and deities, and specific community factions, nor are they articulated with ritual and narrative systems we know to be – or to have been – present on the Tibetan Plateau in some form or other. The circumstances behind, and merits of, any community’s narratives of origin and migration need to be examined if they are going to be cited in any way as evidence to support other propositions – a step mostly neglected in scholarship on the region. The most elaborate evidence of southward migrations into the eastern Himalayas from Tibet I encountered anywhere in the region is to be found in the social and cultural histories and languages of communities maintaining the cult of Srid-pa’i lha. Yet, from both ethnographic and historical perspectives, none of these apparent traces of migration are straightforward. Here we can cite the example of the Thempang community (ch. 11), in which identities, social and ritual organisation and origin narratives involving a range of community factions are complex. The Thempang data reveal the certainty that any factions who arrived from

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somewhere to the north, either directly from Tibet, or secondarily via the Dakpa speaking region, have been overlaid by subsequent waves of migrants from elsewhere, such as from proto-Bhutan and the post-seventeenth century Bhutanese state to the west, or the southern Mon-yul Corridor, and so forth. Moreover, such earlier migrants from the north no doubt encountered peoples already dwelling in their destination and resettlement areas. Contemporary ethnographic and linguistic data can usually reveal some fragments of the complexity of this region’s migration and settlement, although it does not allow much in the way of reconstruction of events with any time depth beyond living memory or the rare, recorded observations of earlier visitors when these are actually available. In strong contrast to many other parts of the eastern Himalayas, and in the absence of any archaeological data, what we do have available from the research region in eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor are a range of indigenous written documents reporting narratives of origins and migration. These sources, too, present researchers with a host of challenges and uncertainties, and demand careful and extensive treatment. Yet, the markers of their apparent age, along with the profound paucity of alternative sources beyond living memory, make their critical evaluation a priority. From the late 1970s, Michael Aris already began surveying some of these indigenous written documents, followed more recently by John Ardussi. However, almost everything written so far has depended to some considerable extent upon a single source, namely, redactions of the late seventeenth century Rgyal rigs, which includes origin myths, migration accounts and clan genealogies. As I already indicated in chapters 11-12, the Rgyal rigs is a source marked by significant bias and limitations. The bias is obvious in terms of the partial view upon social history reflecting the concerns of the author’s patrons. Its primary limitation is that its author frequently reported only those fragments of information he was able to collect, at a remove and as a complete outsider, concerning distant communities whose languages he would most probably have had little or no knowledge about. Some historians have already acknowledged the character of the Rgyal rigs. For the study of descent groups such as clans in the same region, Aris summarised the state of the art in 1979

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as follows, “We shall obtain a much sharper view of the ancient clans when more texts come to light and when detailed fieldwork has been completed in the area. The contrasted picture thus gained of the rGyal rigs will tell us a great deal about the formation of its schema and that of similar works from other areas.”1 Concerning other ancient ancestral lineages of this region who either themselves used, or were subsumed by others under the title of gDung, Ardussi also noted some years later that, “Thorough field research on remnants of the Gdung in both eastern and western Bhutan would be an excellent research programme.”2 The study of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities using ethnography and older local documents now enables us to move further towards the more contrasted picture and thorough overview which both Aris and Ardussi had hoped for. The section to follow provides a detailed investigation of a written narrative of origins and migration for one set of Tibetan Plateau clans who migrated southwards into the research region. I consider these three clans to have been components of the Shar Dung population that dwelt in lHo-brag and its environs up to the time of their mid-fourteenth century military defeat and dispersal. Subsequent sections will attempt a more penetrating portrait of the Shar Dung peoples as they dwelt upon the high Plateau. I offer a new survey of traces revealing that migrant Shar Dung clans not only spread throughout and settled in Himalayan valleys within the research region, but that they were also intimately associated with the Srid-pa’i lha cult that still preserves many traces of the Dung in its ritual systems, transmissions and worship communities.

16.3 The Regional Clanscape Revisited A striking feature of the whole collection of origin myths and genealogies recorded in the Rgyal rigs is ignorance of the three main, parallel valley systems of far north-eastern Bhutan. Aside from the vaguest of references, the upper reaches of the Kuri Chu in Kurtö, its large eastern tributary the Khoma Chu valley, and the Kholong Chu north of Tashiyangtse are passed over.3 Only a single identifiable place name from that entire region occurs within the text, and it is for a site

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

located in the southernmost part of Kurtö, in other words, right at the lower margins of this north-eastern sub-region itself.4 These three valleys appear to have been well beyond the horizons of both Ngag-dbang, the compiler/author of the Rgyal rigs, and his informants. The same silence about these three north-eastern valleys is true of the contemporary Lo rgyus also composed by Ngag-dbang. In addition to a lack of knowledge, these three valleys had no doubt been ignored for political reasons since they were peripheral to the interests of Ngag-dbang’s patrons. Writing about them could add nothing to help glorify their claimed lHa-sras gTsang-ma ancestry and Jo-bo clan descent, and there is a good reason for this having been the case. This sub-region of north-east Bhutan has in fact been the domain of another different set of clans, among them the Khu, [b]Se-ru, gNam-sa, Shar, Ba, Na and various others mentioned already in the chapters of part IV (cf. appxs. G, H). Unlike the Buddhist oriented Jo-bo and Zhal-ngo Kheng-po descended lineages which dominated the overall focus of the Rgyal rigs, these other clans have all been closely associated with the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Yet, most of their names – if even present – earn but a single mention in the Rgyal rigs. They were named by Ngag-dbang in a subsidiary list given in the fifth section of the work, and designated as those ‘bone-sharing’ clans (rus) that ‘could not be substantiated’ (khungs ma chod pa). All these Khu, [b]Se-ru, gNam-sa, Shar, Ba, Na and other clan identities still existed among living persons and social groups within the region at the time of my field research. Moreover, such clans often have substantial origin narratives recorded in written manuscripts. Some of these narratives are undoubtedly as old, if not older, than the Rgyal rigs, although only radiometric dating of available manuscripts could confirm the actual periods of their recording. The Rgyal rigs offers narratives of regional social groups that were collected and reported by an author who represented an ‘outsider’ in relation to most of the groups he discussed. Moreover, the narratives were selected and deployed to fulfil the specific purposes of that author and his sponsors. By comparison, the written origin narratives of the ‘other’ clans I collected during my field research are ‘insider’ accounts

intended to explain, and thereby preserve, these clans’ own origins to themselves. They are in no way addressed to outsiders, and are frequently deployed within socially exclusive ritualised settings, such as Srid-pa’i lha worship. Moreover, the detail and sophistication in these texts is often far more comprehensive than the Rgyal rigs itself. The style and content of such accounts is usually very distinctive. The story motifs most closely resemble the gDung origin narratives in the Rgyal rigs compared with anything else in that source. The communities who maintain these narratives all live between the Kuri Chu river valley in the west and the settlement area of Lhau in Tawang district to the east, with an outlier down the Mon-yul Corridor at Thempang. All are speakers of the related Dzala and Dakpa languages or, in the case of Bapu clan ancestors at Thempang, they once spoke them, and this is frequently reflected in the written language used to record their stories and ritual narratives. In sum, the stories and traces of these little-known clans represent a completely alternative clanscape existing within the same region compared with that which the Rgyal rigs offered to its readers. Due to the significance of this alternative clanscape and its sources for considering the origins and spread of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, here I offer an annotated translation of one written clan origin narrative for descent lineages otherwise unrepresented in the Rgyal rigs. This written text is self-identified as Lha’i gsung rabs or Narrative Spoken by the lHa.5 It relates the origins and southward migration from southern central Tibetan Plateau areas of three clans named Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru known to us from the myth and social history of the cult. The account records their seizure of new settlement lands in the Himalayan valleys they arrive in, worship of their ancestral deities, and their encounter with a local ritual specialist from the lHo clan who appears as an ‘outsider’ in relation to these migrant clans. A following analysis of the text will discuss what we know of the social identity and history of these four clans beyond the context of the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative itself. It is my contention that the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Seru who came southwards into the Himalayas represent very conservative lineages who were social components of the Shar Dung population of lHo-brag. A great deal of evidence

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points towards this conclusion, and it will be surveyed in following sections. Another group of important autonymic identities in this alternative clanscape are intimately associated with the Sridpa’i lha cult. However, they have no role – or just a bare mention in two cases – in the Lha’i gsung rabs. They include the Mi/Mee, Ba, Na and lCang/gTsang/rTsang identities, while the lHo are probably to be grouped with them due to their ancestral roots. These clan or ethnic identities are not “Tibetan” in the sense of having any significant history and pedigree attested across the Tibetan Plateau lands, and thus they all lack elaborate migration narratives of the type we are dealing with here. Instead, they represent peoples I provisionally call the Mon clans, referring generically to social groups who all appear to be even older residents of the region’s high Himalayan valleys and the forested, southernmost border zone of lHo-brag and Mon mTshosna, and perhaps similar areas further eastwards. They, too, will be discussed briefly below and again in more detail in chapter 18.

16.4 A Clan Migration Narrative The Lha’i gsung rabs translated below is, strictly speaking, neither ‘history’ nor ‘genealogy’. Rather, its self-styling as a ritual antecedent narrative (rabs) is accurate since this text is intended for chanting in public by bon shamans during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. My presentation in chapter 9 of the Lha’i gtam or Tale of the lHa chanted at the Lhamoche festival of Tsango provides an ethnographic example of public performance of just such a narrative within its original ritual context. The Lha’i gsung rabs functions the same as many older rabs preserved in Tibetan manuscripts. It explains origins, offers these as precedents and templates for the present, and thereby confirms the efficacy of repeating them. Like all major rabs chanted in Srid-pa’i lha festivals, or those found in the ancient dGa’-thang shrine, this one also finishes with a short section addressing worshippers’ aspirations and possible outcomes. Yet, of great significance is that the Lha’i gsung rabs also uniquely recounts one version of the origins of the regional Srid-pa’i lha cult itself in

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relation to the foundation myth of migrant clans who form its worship community in the story. Compared with other Srid-pa’i lha rabs chanted during festivals, the Lha’i gsung rabs has several unusual features that make it interesting from an analytical perspective. Firstly, the Lha’i gsung rabs exhibits a high degree of realism compared with many rabs. Its explanation of the past unfolds sequentially with reference to movement between a series of transit locations along a migration route, which lead in turn to destinations and settlement areas. All these places are also described as sites for ritual activity. This structuring of the text’s successive sections establishes a developmental process implying chronological time while remaining within the bounds of mythical time or ‘timelessness’ since – like all the rabs studied in this book – not a single chronological reference point is provided. Its descriptions of rites are almost ethnographic in character when compared with actual practices we can observe in the same region that we know forms the setting for the narrative. Further realism is present in terms of the places named in the narrative, the high majority of which can still be precisely identified in the historical geography of southern Tibet and adjacent Himalayan valleys to the south, while the regional and local travel routes mentioned between them are all known, premodern conduits. By contrast, many other rabs used for Srid-pa’i lha rites offer purely mythical names and generic settings more typical of narratives used by eastern Himalayan shamans, 6 and which have very much older roots attested in ritual literature from the eleventh century.7 Typical examples of this latter pattern absent from the Lha’i gsung rabs include generic settings such as ‘the triple confluence’ (chu gsum mdo), ‘peaks of the three hills’ (ri gsum rtse), the ‘intersection of three paths’ (lam gsum mdo) or the ‘boundary between the slates and the meadows’ (g.ya’ dang spang bu’i mtshams). Beyond the corpus of ritual texts used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, there are no other sources available to compare the Lha’i gsung rabs with, thus certain questions concerning the document must remain unanswered for now. Nevertheless, an analysis of the text’s language and content, the known distribution of it variants and fragments across the

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

region, as well as its recorded use value, allow a few precise conclusions about it. At the time of writing, the anonymous Bleiting 2 manuscript in which this version of the Lha’i gsung rabs is recorded, while certainly very old in appearance, has not been subject to radiometric or other forms of dating. We can, however, be certain that this manuscript was once used for Srid-pa’i lha worship in a now ruined and abandoned but strategically located highland settlement named Shel-mkhar along the lower Khoma Chu valley (see map 10), details of which are given in appendix K. Most compelling is that versions and fragments of the Lha’i gsung rabs are also found in local manuscripts at settlements in which the Srid-pa’i lha once were or still are worshipped along the whole length of the Khoma Chu valley, in the upper Kholong Chu valley to the east, as well as in the Tawang region still further east. The named Himalayan settings featuring in the story are virtually all identifiable across this same sub-region of far north-eastern Bhutan and the northern Mon-yul Corridor, as well as some in the adjacent southernmost Tibetan Plateau lands. This same sub-region is also that across which we find the most evidence of those clans mentioned within the Lha’i gsung rabs existing as social entities, even up until today. Thus, this regional spread of the narrative and clans who use it occurs strongly on both sides of the political frontier and, highly likely, it predates the period of state-formation during the late seventeenth century. Moreover, we can be certain that this version of the narrative was recorded in manuscript form within the main Dzala speaking area. The vocabulary and grammatical features of the text are a unique hybrid of a written Dzala dialect and Classical Tibetan, plus a small degree of Dakpa influence (see appx. K). Due to philological and linguistic challenges presented by the hybrid language of the Lha’i gsung rabs, the following translation is to be regarded as tentative in many places. Narrative Spoken by the lHa8 [I. gShen identification] [5b...]9 As for the human race of southern ’Dzam-bu-gling,

They are the creation of gShen-lha mGon-po.10 They have a lha; it is the gshen lha.

They have a bon; it is the bshen bon. They have a bu; it is the bshen bu. They have a worship community; they are the bshen brethren.11 [II. Descent from the sky world] Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three [ancestors] From the thirteenth level of the sky world, The sixteenth [level], Kha-cig Ya-le,12 And the fifteenth [level], sPhyi’o bZangs-thag.13 For their human attire, they dressed as lha and came. For their horses’ equipment, they prepared saddles and came. [6a] For their livestock’s requisites, they readied a herder and came. For their birds’ attribute, they covered them with feathers and came.14 They held splendid golden staffs in their hands.15 The door of the sky opened. The door of the clouds opened.16 Their precious bodies were upright. In their hands, they held wish-fulfilling gems. They were surrounded with all kinds of wealth. They laughed, ya la la. They smiled, mu lu lu. They opened the sun door onto the moon and came. They opened the moon door onto the stars and came. They opened the star door onto the clouds and came. [6b] They opened the cloud door onto the rain and came. They opened the rain door onto the dewdrops. [They opened the dewdrops door onto the wind].17 They opened all the wind doors onto the thunder. They opened all the thunder doors onto the frost. They opened the soft frost door. To the south, the dark clouds gathered above. They held aloft white silk as pennants. The white silk was radiant, ta la la. They held the gar spear18 of the gshen in their hands. They were clad with the light of sun and moon. On rMu cords of gold, turquoise and silver,19 those three, They dissolved, each on their own, and came.

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Light [surrounded them], to the extent of a span of the arms or of a wooden ploughing yoke.20 Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three. Khu held the golden rMu cord in his hands. Se-ru held the silver rMu cord in his hands. gNam-sa held the turquoise rMu cord in his hands. [7a] When Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three, From the top of the sky on high, Descended to the narrow earth, As Khu’s place of habitation, he first seized Yar-lung Zo-thang.21 Yar-lung Zo-thang was the dominion 22 of Khu. Phyim-rbal rTag-rtse23 was the stronghold 24 of Khu. rJo bo Yar-lha bSham-po was the patrilineal deity of Khu. gNam-sa seized Yum-bu Bla-’khar. Yum-bu [Bla-]’khar was the dominion and the stronghold of gNam-sa. sTong-lha Zer-zer25 was the patrilineal deity of gNam-sa. Se-ru seized E-mo Yul-drug. E-mo Yul-drug was the dominion and stronghold of Se-ru. [7b] Chibs-lha ’Than-’tsho was the patrilineal deity of Se-ru. Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three. Welcoming beer26 was proffered and offered at the ritual site27 of Yar-lung. There were bro performances with nine forms of nimble leaping.28 As the na ban,29 a serow 30 and a wild pig 31 were offered. The patrilineal deity ’Od-de Gung-rgyal was worshipped. When worshipping the lha, they were cleansed with ablutions. The people spread and multiplied. The cattle rearing flourished, too. [Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three clans,] Then came and produced things abundant and new.32 [III. Migration through southern Tibet] At sNyal-stod Dar-ma-gang,33 a ritual site was established.

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There were bro performances with seven forms of nimble leaping. At the ritual site of sPang-dkar Ser-mo, [welcoming beer] was proffered and offered. [8a] As the na ban, a female deer 34 was offered. The patrilineal deity sNyal-lha35 was worshipped with a nine-cup offering.36 When worshipping the lha, they were cleansed with ablutions. The people spread and multiplied. The cattle rearing flourished, too. The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three, Made offerings directly at37 rGong-stod and rGong-smad.38 There were bro performances with six forms of nimble leaping. At the ritual site of sPang-chen Thang-lha,39 [welcoming beer] was proffered and offered. The patrilineal deity dGrab-lha 40 was worshipped with a nine-cup offering. When worshipping the lha, they were cleansed with ablutions. The people spread and multiplied. The cattle rearing flourished, too. The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three, [8b] Then came and produced things abundant and new. Tshongs-sa rGor-kha 41 was established as a ritual site. There were bro performances with five forms of nimble leaping, too. At the ritual site of lDan-yul 42 Kyid-’khar,43 [welcoming beer] was proffered and offered. As the na ban, a Tibetan gazelle44 was offered. The patrilineal deities Khu-brang-zhe and gNam’dor-zhe45 were worshipped. When worshipping the lha, they were cleansed with ablutions. The people spread and multiplied. The cattle rearing flourished, too. Then, from lHo-brag Khom-’thing, The king Khyi-kha Ra-thod 46 Came and gave them a bowl of silver. rGyal-blon-be47 came and began to talk With the Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru.

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

[9a]

The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru Did not listen to rGyal-blon-be. The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru Subdued Khyi-kha Ra-thod. The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru Then came and produced things abundant and new. [IV. Settlement of upper Kholong Chu valley and environs]

Crossing via La Mo,48 the Me La pass49 and the Cho La pass,50 they came [south]. In the upper region, they seized Rus-gsum.51 In the highlands, The Khu and Se-ru seized Shel-phu.52 The gNam-sa seized Sha-li-brtse.53 The Khu established a ritual site at sMan-bu Sheb and worshipped. As the na ban a serow and a wild pig were offered. At the ritual site of rTa-yang-bsteng,54 [welcoming beer] was proffered and offered by the Se-ru. At the ritual site of Ser-sgom,55 [welcoming beer] was proffered and offered by the gNam-sa. [9b] When worshipping the lha, they were cleansed with ablutions. The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru Then ascended to the rDung-rang 56 highlands from below.57 The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru Seized the sPang La58 as their highland.59 They seized Ru-breng60 as their stronghold. The Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru Worshipped the ancestor-progenitor Tho’u-zhe Below the sPang La highland. The patrilineal deities Khu-brang-zhe61 and gNam’dor-zhe were worshipped. They arranged a nine-shelf altar62 and worshipped. The surface of the upper altar was adorned with a deer’s head and offered. The surface of the lower altar was adorned with a fish’s head and offered. The surface of the middle altar was adorned with a small bird’s head and offered.

For the deer’s head, they cast [ritual substances] to the top and offered them. [10a] For the fish, they cast [ritual substances] to the bottom and offered them. For the small bird, they cast [ritual substances] in the middle and offered them.63 The upper altar shelf was adorned with a gtang nge and offered. The lower altar shelf was adorned with a yang nge and offered. The middle altar shelf was adorned with a um me and offered.64 Upon the nine-shelf altar, With nine ritual hearths, Nine hearth stands,65 Nine containers of fermented grain,66 And nine brewing strainers,67 There were nine of the nine-ladle offerings,68 Many nine-cup offerings And the choicest, fresh foodstuffs all offered. Fresh cheese and butter were made and offered. They tethered a male mithun hybrid and offered it. [10b] They tethered a female mithun hybrid and offered it. A hundred silk ribbons, a hundred pieces of brocade, and feathers were displayed [on a palo].69 A hundred pieces of gold, blue turquoise, and feathers were displayed. They purified their mouths and purified their hands. With a pure being and pure thoughts, they worshipped. They worshipped the lha, and the lha were satisfied. They worshipped the mo,70 and the mo were satisfied. They worshipped the grong,71 and the grong was satisfied. They worshipped the rgyal,72 and they were satisfied. The people spread and multiplied. The cattle rearing flourished. [V. Transmission of spells and rites] The son of sMan-sras, Zhog-’bru, arrived and worshipped. He worshipped below the Wang La73 highland.

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At the ritual site of Zhog Glang-gtang-gsum,74 [welcoming beer] was proffered and offered. [Zhog-’bru] said, “Edible ransom items are needed for the lha! [11a] To adorn a nine-shelf altar, For the nine ritual hearths Nine hearth stands are needed! For the nine containers of fermented grain, Nine brewing strainers And nine ladles are needed!” On the first shelf of the altar, One ladle for the beer of the lha was missing. [Zhog-’bru said], “The lha mi Zhog-’bru has come, and since he has come listen to him! Mothers, widows and younger sisters of Rus-gsum! Listen here! Widows, from your side Can you lend [a ladle] to me for the nine ladles offering?”, but they did not give it. He said, “Now then, Zhog-’bru has come. [11b] The ritual site has been disturbed. If one has a butter churn, it must be kept upright!” The lHo’u scion, rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re75 Was given scorched grains and parched flour76 from Srol-mag-’khar And carried it. He reached the summit of Bra Chis-tha-ngar.77 He was given and carried scorched grains and parched flour. When the lHo’u scion, rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re Was told “Go back”, he did not listen. Zhog-’bru had come, he had come. The mothers and younger sisters of Rus-gsum questioned everyone. They said [to lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re], “At the offerings for the lHa-ka’o-che Mo-ka’o-che [festival], There was no ritual specialist or assistant.78 If you give as much as possible of your scorched grains and parched flour [12a] At the end phase of the rites,79 very good ritual steps for [worshipping] the lha will be given to you.” Then, they told lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re,

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“You are not listening properly. Go back.” When they told him, “You need to be the chant-master80 of the Kho-long valley!”, He responded, “I want to offer as much as possible for the lHa-ka’o-che [festival] of Rus-gsum.” The fathers and mothers of Rus-gsum paid him no heed. So, he told them, “Now, I will be the chant-master of the upper and lower sKu-ri [valley]! You told me I must be the chant-master of upper and lower Kho-long [valley]. My rgyal secret spells will strike you!” Then, lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re said [to Zhog-’bru], “If I teach you the ritual steps and the rgyal secret spells, [12b] From the Geng La 81 and dKar-chung 82 [passes] on downwards, And from bZhong-dgar83 and blCam-bleng upwards, you must be the chant-master. If you don’t get the ritual steps and the rgyal secret spells, You must stay below the white mountain, And above the blue lake.” Then, Zhog-’bru came. He completed learning the ritual steps and the rgyal secret spells. He said, “For the na ban [rite], the zhel de84 shall give the fire.” The zhel de collected wood for the fire. The zhel de became the fire-maker. Then, Zhog-’bru came To study the Phig pa tshig gsum85 secret spells. But without studying the secret spells, he took them. Then, he descended, going below Bya-mo-khri.86 Where did he sleep and stay? [13a] He came passing below the Shel-phu highland. He slept above Kyed-te-mag.87 Then, he slept in the lha’s cave. Down there in the lha’s cave [called] Pal, he stayed and slept nine nights. Then, he passed through Lhem-bu88 and slept there. Then, Zhog-’bru came.

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

He stayed below the sNyongs La89 highland. From brTsang-ngo, Ru-lu and Phog-ten on downward, And from Yam-mog-rkan upward, Throughout sKu-ri valley nothing abundant and new was produced. lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re, Seized the Shel-phu highland. He seized the ritual site of Khab-bla-glang,90 and made offerings. The ritual site of Kyed-te-mag was the ‘clothing rail’91 of the lha. He said, “It is a resting place of the serow and the wild pig [offered for na ban rites]. It is a place for fathers to get tshe. It is a place for mothers to get sons. It is a place for young men to get strength. [13b] It is a place for wives to get wealth.92 It is a place for young women to get beauty. It is a place for children to be conceived. It is a place to get whatever you need.” He then explained it as [being like] the lha land Gung-thang up above. The lha’s cave is the place to contemplate the lha. It is the place to contemplate the Bon ston pa bShen-rab. It is the place to contemplate the Bon yi dam bShen-lha ’Od-dkar. It is the place to obtain one’s aspirations from the five lineages of great lha and gsas of Bon. It is the place to obtain the blessings of wealth and ability93 of lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. Lhem-bu is the dwelling place of the lha. lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re Proffered [welcoming beer] at the ritual sites of Kyed-te-mag and [14a] Khro-mo-brgyan94 and The patrilineal deities Khu-brang-zhe and gNam-’dor-zhe were worshipped. Sixty Khu [clan] households worshipped. One hundred gNam-sa [clan] households worshipped. One hundred and eighty Se-ru [clan] households worshipped.

The ritual site of Kyed-te-mag was the place for worshiping the lha. When lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re worshipped, He did so at a nine-level altar, On nine ritual hearths, With nine hearth stands, Nine containers for fermented grain, Nine brewing strainers, A nine-ladle offering, And worshipped by giving fresh cheese and butter,95 And offered the choicest, unused foodstuffs. The worship was done by the lha mi with a pure mouth, And by the ritual sponsor with pure hands. They worshipped displaying a hundred silk ribbons, a hundred pieces of brocade, and feathers [on a palo].96 [VI. Appointment of local ritual specialists] [18b, 3] A question was posed for a bootstrap divination:97

“For the Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru, the three, What transmission of ritual specialists for the lha will there be?” In a bootstrap divination, they could see what it would be. This work was fit for a grong and no other. Then, this was established in Rus-gsum. The grong was appointed as the chant master. He then said, “The grong needs a lha mi!” The question, “Who is to be the lha mi?” was posed for a divination. [19a] [The result was:] “Get one from below the Yo-ru highlands,98 appoint the transmission to a son of the Wang [clan].” 99 With care, the Rus-gsum people got a lha mi and appointed him. The lha mi said to the grong, “I need a btsang mi!” When the question, “Who is to be the btsang mi?” was posed for a bootstrap divination, [The result was:] “Below the rGyal-phu 100 highlands, it will be transmitted 101 to a son of the Tshes-pong 102 [clan].”

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[The grong, lha mi and btsang mi] are the ones given drinking water103 untouched by human hands, Who construct the lha’s house, Who explain the lha’s words, Who neutralise the lha’s curse, And who stir the lha’s millet porridge. Below the Shel-phu highlands, The grong, lha mi and btsang mi, the three, Are the rgyal po who were appointed by the lha. The grong was given the ritual steps for worshipping the lha and the secret spells [called] Phig pa tshig gsum. [19b] He divided and distributed the [offering dues]. He said, “Down as far as Phogs-mog-tab, And up as far as rGyal-phu, There are nine eating measures104 [to be offered] upward, And there are five eating measures [to be offered] downward.” He said to the btsang mi, “You are the man with the hard work. You take the lead.” Then, the btsang mi led upward, carrying [the ritual items]. [The grong] said, “When eating nettles, I will eat with a gulping noise!105 When drinking water, I will drink with a gulping noise! When eating, I will eat wheat flour porridge! When having meals,106 my meals will be topped with golden butter from the female yak! When drinking, I will drink strong wheat beer!” He said, “When I eat, I will eat fish107 from the zhel de.108 At the riverbank of rDung-’khar,109 I will have meals with millet beer.” [20a] The btsang mi led upwards, carrying [the ritual items]. [The grong said] “I, the grong, will offer five eating measures downstream.” From Byas-spangs110 rTog-sheng down, it was one eating measure. Below Lam-’brangs,111 covering 112 all the Se-ru [clan], it was two eating measures.

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Up to [Bra Chis-]tha-ngar, from the Khu 113 [clan], it was three eating measures. From Khab-bla-glang 114 and Kha-bing-mog together, it was four eating measures. Below rGyal-phu, from the Tshes-pong [clan], it was five eating measures. From rGyal-phu up, it was five eating measures. Then, these were obtained. Below the Shel-phu highlands, At the shrine of the stronghold deity (mkhar lha) and the patrilineal deity, The grong and the btsang mi did this three times: They recalled to mind the Thugs dam bon sku snying po; [20b] They recalled to mind the A dkar sa le snying po; They contemplated wrathful sTags-lha Me-bar; Together they melodiously sung of the unborn Bon. Kyed-te-mag became the dwelling place for the lha. The ritual site of Khab-bla-lang became the worship place for the lha. [VII. Spread of Bon in Mon-yul and bZhongs-mi valley] The Mi arrived. They seized [the area]. Kho-long awoke. The rBa arrived. They seized [the area]. Sher-re awoke.115 Three thousand six hundred lha were sent to the east. sPan-rta 116 was sent to Dre-ngar.117 Three thousand six hundred lha were sent to the south. Nam-bon was sent to Tsheng-mi.118 Three thousand six hundred lha were sent to the west. Gu-ru-zhe was sent to brTsang-ngo.119 Chug-zhes Ngag-lha was sent to bZhongs-mi.120 [21a] Grang-bya Zhogs-ge was sent to bZham-ling. 121 A-bu Yum-brtsun was sent to She’u.122 ’Khar-phu123 was sent to bZhing-leng.124 Concerning what was done in the Kho-long valley: ’Things-se-zhe was sent to Bing-mog.125 Grong-phyugs-’rdzi was sent to Yi-lan.126 ’Khar-phra’ Ngan-te127 was sent to Mug-rtur.128 brTsang-brtsang rDo-rje129 was sent to Kham.130

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

Tses-lha dKar-mo was sent to lCe.131 Khris-nyar Khri-brtsun was sent to Kha-tshing.132 sNgon-mo dGos-blangs was sent to Gred.133 The lha being dispatched were fully placed and allotted [in this way]. This was the early spread of g.Yu-rung Bon [21b] To Mo[n]-yul and the bZhongs-mi valley. When the grong, lha mi and btsang mi, the three, Worship as far down as Phog[s]-mog-tab, And as far up as Khri-dung [on] the Ang-mo-long [river],134 They are masters of the lha. When they chant, they are masters of the rites. When they expound, they are masters of the chos sku. When they step, they are masters of the bro. In Mon-yul and the bZhong-mi valley, At pure, remote places where religion is followed, It is said the lha openly manifest. [VIII. Aspirations] May fathers gain long lives! May mothers give birth to sons! [22a] May young men dominate enemies! May wives get cattle! May young women have good looks! May children be conceived! May the village get good harvests! May the people multiply and spread! May cattle rearing flourish! The Narrative Spoken by the lHa is completed. May blessings fall down like rain! A la la ho!

performance, the Lha’i gsung rabs likely circulated orally long before it was set down on paper, or it has oscillated between spoken and written forms over time. In the remainder of this chapter, I want to demonstrate that the contents of the Lha’i gsung rabs correlate strongly with many other available data sets that take us across space and back through time within and surrounding the region in which the text originates. Much in its contents cannot easily be dismissed as ‘myth’. Compared with other origin narratives from this part of the Himalayas, which have often been recorded by those who are ‘outsiders’ in relation to the social groups featuring in the narratives, the Lha’i gsung rabs definitely preserves rich ‘insider’ cultural memories of those communities it actually describes and to whom it belongs and is used by. The six major sections within the Lha’i gsung rabs are best viewed as three lengthy units of coherent narrative that need to be considered somewhat separately. Sections II-IV of the text provide a richly textured narration of sky origins and clan ancestral migrations from southern Tibet into northeastern proto-Bhutan, with eventual settlement in the Kholong Chu and Khoma Chu valleys and adjacent highland environs. We also gain descriptions of ritual specialists and styles of rites found among these clans. Sections V-VI contain a story plot conveying relations between various local ritual specialists and their appointment within the settlement area of the clans. Section VII is different altogether since it represents one claim about the regional spread of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and its lha as a bon-identified phenomenon. I will now review the types of information these three units of narrative within the Lha’i gsung rabs provide, and what their detail reveals about migration and resettlement, ritual specialists, rites, deities and ‘Bon’ identity, social identities and the type of political discourse in the story.

Content Analysis It is well to bear cautiously in mind that the written Lha’i gsung rabs comes down to us in an undated manuscript. Apart from eventually being able to scientifically date its paper, we do have several good indicators to help estimate the approximate age of the text itself, and these will be mentioned below. Being a rabs text intended for public oral

Migration and Resettlement Firstly, the migrant clans within the Lha’i gsung rabs are a mix of well-known, very old Tibetan Plateau social identities that appear to represent descent groups such as clans and lineages, and so-called Mon clans associated with the

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eastern Himalayan-Tibetan Plateau interface region. The former identities includes the Khu and Tshes-pong from Yar-lung-stod, and the [b]Se-ru (or [b]Se) from southern Tibet. The latter include the lHo (i.e., lHo’u) of lHo-brag, along with the gNam-sa and the Wang (‘from below the Yo-ru highlands’) whose traces are found in north-eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. Some of these identities have already been mentioned in relation to ethnographic data presented in volume I, and concern living clans found within the region. Additionally, two more obscure social identities, the Mi and the rBa, which could ref lect clan names or ethnonyms, are briefly cited in a myth fragment at the beginning of section VII as being the first inhabitants of the region. Below, I will survey all that is known about these clan or social identities as historical entities within the geographical context in which the Lha’i gsung rabs places them, as well as consider their possible origins. While the entire text is remarkable for the range of cultural memories it preserves in the form of accurate references back to ancient social history and geography of the region, the migration beginning from initial mythical ‘touch down’ sites at the ancient political and cultural centre of Yar-lung resembles more of a mythological motif. Yet, as I will discuss in following sections, there is no doubt that some migrant members of the clans concerned had once been historically settled in parts of southernmost Central Tibet between Yar-lung-stod and the Himalayan frontier. The migration route and resettlement areas of the clans are all traceable from the identifiable place names and their ordering within the narrative. Departing from the putative homelands of adjacent Yar-lung and E-mo (i.e., g.Ye-mo) Yul-drug, and travelling further south, they reach the southernmost Tibetan Plateau highlands of adjacent gNyal and Gru-shul. Further progress is then in the form of three separate ‘expeditions’. One such expedition leads downstream along the Nyamjang Chu valley to the Pangchen region of north-west Tawang. A second goes westwards across into the lHo-brag Shar Chu valley. A final one traverses the three-pass northern route leading into the upper Kholong Chu valley, which also represents an entry into the main resettlement area described later in the text. It is likely these three expeditions indicate a division of the

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migrants leading to different destinations. For example, and as described in chapters 9 and 12, concentrations of historical traces and living members of the Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru clans certainly occur along both the upper Kholong Chu valley and the neighbouring Khoma Chu valley. However, they occur as well in the La-’og Yul-gsum region of Tawang reached via the Nyamjang Chu valley and Pangchen, and even further south down into Dirang. The two southward expeditions, at least – no research has been possible to date in the lHo-brag Shar Chu valley – would explain the documented presence of the three clans throughout these parts of the research region. The Lha’i gsung rabs describes resettlement across a discrete series of adjacent valley and highland territories that the clans take control of upon arrival in the Himalayas. These include three adjacent areas with many identifiable sites (see map 10). The main area comprises the upper valley of the Kholong Chu and its tributaries along the west bank, extending from modern Tashiyangtse northward up to Bumdeling, and somewhat further. The second area comprises the Shel-phu (or ‘Sherphu’) uplands in the northernmost Sher-re Chu valley headwaters. This area is connected to Khoma valley further west via a main tributary of the lower Khoma Chu river. This tributary, nowadays named Amālung Chu on maps, is the (Khri-dung) Ang-mo-long in the text. The seond area is also connected to Bumdeling to the east via the Chhodīgāng Chu valley, and to Tashiyangtse Dzong area via the Dongdala Chu (or Dungdala Chu), and the Dungri Chu valleys. All these valleys, and the Sher-re Chu uplands they connect with, provide access to highland pasture areas that run up to the major north-south ridgeline dividing the Kuri Chu and Khoma Chu catchment areas from the Kholong Chu catchment. These first two areas were described in older historical sources under the name Dung-rang (see map 10), and I discuss them again in subsequent sections of this chapter. The third area further west is the lower Khoma Chu valley, identified in the Lha’i gsung rabs by its ancient name bZhongs-mi or bZhongs-mi Lum-pa. It was accessible from the Kholong Chu valley via a route over the Sib-sib La pass that crosses the Dunga Ridge at the Sherphu peak and descends the Amālung Chu.

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

Bon Identity and Ritual Specialists The Lha’i gsung rabs contains several sets of references to a cultural system named both Bon and g.Yu-rung Bon. It is well here to reiterate what they stand for. Read in context with both the Bshad mdzod account of g.Yu-rung Bon and the opening lines of the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel manuscript discussed in chapter 14, it is obvious we are dealing with the same phenomenon, and all three texts must be drawing upon a common basis. Like the example in the Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, such ‘Bon’ references are cursory and mainly occur at the very start and end of the text, seemingly added to encompass or ‘brand’ an existing narrative otherwise dealing with mundane rites or local social history. The initial set of ‘gShen identifications’ in section I of the Lha’i gsung rabs reveals nothing definitive when viewed in isolation. They must be read as a preface to repeated, subsequent accounts of rites that address ancestral beings and clan deities using sacrifices of wild animals, ‘jumping’ forms of bro movement, altars full of fresh alcohol offerings, use of palo devices and explicit aspirations for vitality, fertility and productive increase. Thus, they can only be identifying the Srid-pa’i lha cult we know of ethnographically from the text’s origin region. The second set of Bon references in section V concerns contemplating beings named ston pa bShen-rab and yi dam bShen-lha ’Od-dkar, and appealing to the lineages of great lha and gsas for one’s aspirations. They all reflect existing techniques of bon shamans that invoke primordial and auxiliary beings in order to attain mundane goals, as described in volume I. The third set of references, at the end of section VI, concerning contemplation of what are possibly ritual formulae named Thugs dam bon sku snying po and A dkar sa le snying po, as well as the being named sTags-lha Me-bar, are typical of both older texts for mundane rites and regional occurrences of certain mythical names. For example, the name sTags-lha Me-bar (and variants) occurs across a wide range of local texts dedicated to mundane rites throughout Bhutan, as it does also to identify individual figures in regional

historiographical narratives.135 As for ritual formulae, such as A dkar sa le snying po, we find almost identical forms of them in very old texts recording rites for mundane purposes that appear to have been performed by autonomous ritual specialists.136 In none of these references from the Lha’i gsung rabs do we find any known or necessary connections with formal, orthodox g.Yung-drung Bon religion. Rather, they all point back to the particular type of ‘Bon’ identification linked mainly with descriptions of rites and specialists dedicated to mundane concerns we know had earlier circulated in southernmost central Tibetan Plateau areas like lHo-brag. Of more importance for understanding the cult’s possible origins and development are the identities of, and relationship between the various ritual specialists depicted in sections V-VI, as well as the ancestral deities worshipped by them and their clan sponsor communities mentioned in sections II-VII. While all the ritual specialists mentioned throughout the Lha’i gsung rabs perform the same types of rites towards ancestral and clan deities on behalf of their communities, it is the lHo clan scion, rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re, who arrives on the scene as an outsider (as his clan name indicates). It is he who transmits the use of secret spells and ritual procedures that are ‘bon’-identified. His rGyal-gnyan name or title most probably defines him as a ‘potent’ (gnyan) ritual specialist who is classed as a rgyal. This latter term rgyal is used in that manner throughout the text, and has precedents in Old Tibetan and earlier folk etymologies of ritual terminology, while the rGyal-’byor-re name may also have Old Tibetan precedents.137 We currently have no way to assess the veracity of any aspects of the plot that unfolds between the lHo clan ritual specialist and those serving the other clans named in the text. The narrative certainly represents a community’s explanation to itself of a moment of entanglement, when two different ritual systems become combined into a more complex cultural phenomenon. The result matches precisely the ethnographically attested profile of the Sridpa’i lha cult, which combines unique forms of clan ancestral worship with more formal ‘bon’-identified ritual antecedent narratives and certain specialised techniques.

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Spread of Bon according to the lHa‘i gsung rabs

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site with Bon lha in the text

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known Srid-pa’i lha cult site

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Yarlha Shampo

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K h om a ch u

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Patriclan and Ancestral Deities Another highly significant aspect of the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative is the identities and locations of the principal patriclan (pho lha) and ancestral deities (zhe). The Tibetan progenitor lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal is already invoked by the three migrating clans as being their ancient pho lha in Yarlung, and his worship continues when the migrants later colonise north-east Bhutan. Thus, this reads like a trace of ’O-de Gung-rgyal’s introduction into the Himalayas from the north. Conversely, in sections V-VI, there is no mention whatsoever of the other regionally important Srid-pa’i lha, Gurzhe. It is only when the clans reach eastern lHo-brag and make a first entry into the adjacent Kholong Chu valley

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é Map 8. Locations of communities with lha according to the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative.

of north-east Bhutan, that any of these specific zhe ‘ancestral deity’ identities, namely Khu-brang-zhe, gNam-’dorzhe and Tho’u-zhe, begin to appear. It is also the lHo clan priest of this area who worships them. In the list of lha and worship sites in section VII of the text, three further zhe ancestral deities are localised in this same area. They are Gurzhe (written Gu-ru-zhe) at Tsango in the mid-Khoma Chu valley, Chug-zhes Ngag-lha at bZhongs-mi referring to the lower Khoma Chu valley (see below), and ’Things-se-zhe at Kha-bing-mog in the Bumdeling area of the upper Kholong Chu valley. While during my field research the cult

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

of ’Things-se-zhe had died out, that of Gurzhe was found along the mid-Khoma Chu valley in a form more elaborate than any of the dozens of sites at which the same deity is worshipped elsewhere by Srid-pa’i lha cult communities across the research region. Moreover, the cult of Chug-zhes Ngag-lha – also written Chu[s]-zhe Ngag-lha[gs]-mo – still existed for the principal ancestral deity localised around the lower Khoma Chu valley. Various bon shaman ritual texts from settlements on both sides of the lower Khoma valley explicitly identify this deity as ‘the lha of bZhong-mi Lumpa’, and that the ‘Chu-zhe Ngag-lha-mo is worshipped by the eight clans of gZhong-mi.’138 In 1499, Padma Gling-pa visited settlements around the confluence of the Kuri Chu and Khoma Chu rivers, where he moved between Nya-lam Dung in the south and gZham-gling in the north in order to perform religious services for the local populace. One of the places in between at which he did so was an area or community (yul) he identified as Byongs-mi.139 The historical and ethnographic evidence all concurs with the Lha’i gsung rabs, that the ancient name for a valley or area (lum pa in the text, CT lung pa) in the lower Khoma Chu river catchment was gZhong-mi (also bZhong-mi, Byongs-mi) (see map 10). A likely meaning for the name with gZhong-mi or bZhong-mi spellings is ‘Deep Valley People’,140 suggesting a local ethnonym. Indeed, there is a unique concentration of presentday Zhong settlement names and toponyms within the deep and narrow valleys of both the lower Khoma Chu river and its Yongla Chu tributary entering from the north. 141 This confirms the most likely centre of an ancient gZhong-mi area. This ancient gZhong-mi, the Kholong Chu valley and the Dag-pa-yul and La-’og Yul-gsum areas of the northern Mon-yul Corridor, together represent the oldest and richest zone for zhe ‘ancestral deity’ cults and the peoples who primarily maintained them. All three of these same valleys also preserve the most significant densities of cultural references to and traces of the Dung within this broad zone of the research region. Moreover, they are full of attestations to both the historical and ethnographic presence of the three clans Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru. The evidence for this will be considered in sections below. One could read this data in the Lha’i gsung rabs as a map that traces clans and their chief ancestral deities, as well as

possible relations of contact, settlement and assimilation occurring between them. The portrait in the narrative appears well defined. The most obviously Tibetan clans bring lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal south with them and continue his cult when resettled in the Himalayas. The zhe ‘ancestral deities’ are only a feature of the direct zone of interface between the southernmost central Tibetan Plateau and immediately adjacent Himalayan valleys, and they belong to Mon clans like the lHo and their ancestors the Na who are both introduced in following sections. One might conclude that, since both ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gurzhe are the most widely-spread regional identities of Srid-pa’i lha, and that they frequently occur together at dozens of sites, the diffusion of their worship ever further southwards into many different Himalayan communities must have taken place after assimilation of the Tibetan Plateau migrants into Himalayan interface communities of Mon clans, including especially those who recognised the Gurzhe ancestor. In the following chapters, this is the main line of argument I will follow to explain the apparently hybrid character of the Srid-pa’i lha cult evident in both the ethnographic results and all the older documents we have available. Section VII of the Lha’i gsung rabs, which I have subtitled ‘Spread of Bon in Mon-yul and bZhongs-mi valley’, is something altogether different from the other sections. The list of community and lha names here represents one claim about the regional spread of the Srid-pa’i lha cult as a bon-identified phenomenon. The perspective taken for the three cardinal directions mentioned in this section is that of a narrator stationed in the upper Kholong Chu valley and adjacent highlands, where the text was undoubtedly composed, and who was viewing the regions to their south, west and east respectively. Although some names on the list are very old and redundant in present-day use, or their orthographies are rather deviant, we can still identify all the fourteen sites listed, as well as more than half of the lha names associated with them. In terms of known historical places, they include the Drang-nga-mkhar in the La-’og Yul-gsum region, the small rTseng-mi kingdom of the lower Sher-re Chu valley, and bZhong-mi referring to the lower Khoma Chu valley. Kha-bing-mog we know from the text was located in Bumdeling along the upper Kholong Chu valley. The modern

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village names include Tsango in the mid-Khoma Chu valley, Zhamling, Shawa and Chengling along the east bank of the upper Kuri Chu valley, most probably Yalang on the south bank of the Drangmé Chu overlooking the Doksum confluence area, Muktur and Kharteng along the lower Nyamjang Chu valley, Seru and Lhau Khamba in the Tshosum area of Tawang, and finally Khet on the south bank of the Tawang Chu opposite the zone where the Tshosum area borders upon Dakpanang. The marked locations on map 8142 reveal that these sites all occur within a coherent zone extending from around the mouth of the Khoma Chu valley named bZhongs-mi Lum-pa in the text, and eastwards across to Tawang that forms another area the text names Mon-yul. The zone encompassing these fourteen lha sites might best be understood to represent a social-historical and linguistic ‘snapshot’ of one sub-region across which the Srid-pa’i lha cult was once distributed at the time the text was composed. The particularity of this zone is that it correlates closely with three sets of empirical data, including:

and likewise Dzala and Dakpa are also absent from these same sites nowadays. This information is perhaps signalling a historical contraction of settlements for Dzala and Dakpa speakers together with their ancestral cult around the margins of the larger area the text defines.

Social Identities In addition to ethnographic notes already provided in volume I, what more do we know of the history and origins of the clan identities Khu, gNam-sa, Se-ru and lHo’u (or lHo) who appear as principal agents in the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative, along with the fleetingly mentioned Mi and Ba (or rBa)? I will begin by discussing these latter two identities, since they represent a claim of settlement even earlier than the Tibetan Plateau clans.

Mi and Ba The opening pair of lines in section VII of the text states:

1. Both ethnographic records and historical traces of where the Khu, [b]Se-ru and gNam-sa clans spread within the research region. 2. The main distribution area of Dzala and Dakpa language communities. 3. A core of northern Srid-pa’i lha worship sites at which the most sophisticated forms of rites and narratives in the cult are found concentrated. These empirical correlations appear to testify both the accuracy and historical depth of the information contained in the Lha’i gsung rabs. Just as telling are those eight names on the list that as places nowadays reveal no trace of any Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. Of particular interest are historical rTseng-mi, modern Chengling and what appears to be Yalang (for Yi-lan?). Each of these three places represents a location on the margins of the zone within which Dzala and Dakpa languages are currently spoken. The cult that the Lha’i gsung rabs tells us was once sponsored in these three communities no longer exists there,

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The Mi arrived. They seized [the area]. Kho-long awoke. The rBa arrived. They seized [the area]. Sher-re awoke. This refers to two obscure clan or lineage names or perhaps ethnonyms. This pair Mi and rBa refer to primordial human arrival and settlement in the initial sections of a variety of origin narratives preserved in Dakpa and Dzala influenced local texts that are found between the Kuri Chu valley and the Tawang region. Thus, these two lines in the Lha’i gsung rabs have been taken out of their original and more elaborated context to form a passing reference to first peoples or settlers. The following passage gives an example of how these names usually appear in other written and oral origin narratives. The sample below forms the opening section of a chant used during Srid-pa’i lha festivals once staged at Lhau in Tawang. The text itself is strongly influenced by Dakpa language, and the translation is tentative:

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

Ha ho kyi’i. Ha ho kyi’i. At the beginning, In the past, During the [first] aeon, An ancient time, A primordial time, A time when the sky was covered over, A time when the earth was spread out: Up above, The sky was just gathered up in an opening, ye le le, it is said; Down below, The earth was just spread out and cool,143 phya phya la la, it is said. [2a] Then,144 in the intermediate aeon, The Mi came. They came via the land of Kho-long. The Ba came. They came via the land of She-re. Then, at the time, It was a time when people’s clothing was that of the lha, When horses were equipped with the saddle, When yak were equipped with nose ropes, And when cattle were equipped with a herder.145 [1b]

In the text being cited here, this Dakpa origin myth is in fact primarily concerned with the old Mon clan named Na or Na-mi who were ancestors of the lHo (see below, and chs. 12, 18). This Na or Na-mi clan is present only within Dakpa and Dzala speaking communities. Yet, the text includes the motif of Mi and Ba as primordial humans or settlers arriving into the same highland area as the Lha’i gsung rabs describes. Who were these Mi and [r]Ba?146

Mi and Mee As for the Mi, apart from these recurring myth references, there are currently no Mi clan or ethnic names referring to living social groups within the Dzala and Dakpa language zone. However, there are a variety of cognate records apparently demonstrating the Mi’s much older significance right across the whole settlement region where we find speakers of the Dzala-Dakpa linguistic complex within the East Bodish

group, as well as where we find some of their social and historical traces are present in peripheral areas. In those records, the Mi always appear as a pioneer or first population, one that migrates, forcefully occupies and begins something new. They are accorded these forms of agency in the written Dzala and Dakpa manuscripts with certain recurring verbs meaning ‘to come’, ‘to seize’ and ‘to awaken’.147 We do not yet know how old the Dzala and Dakpa manuscripts are, however the Mi and their motif were certainly recorded during the seventeenth century in Classical Tibetan sources from the region, sources that must have been reporting parts of much older myths at the time they were composed. The late seventeenth century Rgyal rigs genealogies preserve reference to the ‘place of Mi Zim-pa’ (mi zim pa’i sa cha). Mi Zim-pa designates an older site located atop the bTsan-mkhar ridge above the ’Brong mDo-gsum (i.e., Doksum) confluence between the lower Kholong Chu and Tawang Chu rivers. It is thus adjacent to the highlands of Kholong and She-re to the north-west and which are always associated with Mi and Ba names in local Dzala and Dakpa texts. The current population around the bTsan-mkhar area has become increasingly mixed due to the arrival of more recent migrants belonging to ethnolinguistic groups from the south and west. However, there are long-established Dakpa speaking settlements to be found at and around bTsan-mkhar, and references in both the Rgyal rigs and Lo rgyus clearly indicate this. 148 In the name Mi Zim-pa, the nominalising -pa suffix strongly suggests a personal or group agent is being referred to. Since both Classical Tibetan zim and ’dzim are attested as non-standard spellings for the verb ’dzin meaning ‘to seize’, ‘to hold fast’,149 it seems the original name meant something like ‘Mi the Seizers’, or perhaps also ‘Mi Occupiers’. This is the same type of language and agency assigned to primordial Mi and [r]Ba in all the Dakpa and Dzala origin myths, albeit using verbs from those two languages rather than Classical Tibetan. While we cannot yet date those latter myths, it is obvious that for indigenous speakers of Dakpa and Dzala, whose old geographical settlement we are actually discussing, the Mi and [r]Ba have long represented their oldest referents to human settlement.

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The Rgyal rigs itself features Mi Zim-pa as a setting associated with origins and first – or very early – settlers. Its narrative describes two purported settlers at Mi Zim-pa, one A mi (or A-mi) Don-grub-rgyal who arrived earlier, and the other a Tibetan prince named lHa-sras gTsang-ma. They are both represented as ‘elite’ migrants from Tibet who have impeccable Buddhist identities, and who are supposed to have arrived during the ca. eighth or ninth centuries. However, their claimed dating some eight hundred years prior to the recording of the Rgyal rigs narrative, along with what John Ardussi referred to as “the vast differences between the versions of Gtsang ma’s life story in Tibetan and Bhutanese sources”, mean that these details cannot be naively accepted as they stand. In the case of lHa-sras gTsang-ma, even his name is unknown in any Tibetan or other historical records prior to the fifteenth century.150 In the case of the ostensibly even earlier refugee, A mi (or A-mi) Don-grub-rgyal, some of his story details are obviously confused interpolations from hagiographies appearing in a ca. fourteenth century history from Tibet.151 In general, there is a case to be made that such Buddhist narratives featuring Mi Zim-pa within the Rgyal rigs represent an instance of appropriation by that text’s author or his informants of an older, non-Buddhist Dakpa and Dzala Mi identity for this site, an identity associated with origins and early settlement. When considering the possible contexts of this apparent appropriation they only tend to confirm its likelihood.152 One can also arrive at similar conclusions for the Ba identity considered below. Aside from these poorly defined early Mi in origin myths from older manuscripts, the most relevant, cognate autonym within the research region is Mee used by the so-called Sherdukpen 153 population of the southern Mon-yul Corridor. The Mee autonym – sometimes also written Mei or Mey in recent linguistic works – was only widely reported relatively recently,154 but appears a reliable record reflecting certain older clan or lineage identities. Moreover, it leads back to the Mi as an older population in the region – or at least the representation of one, and certainly merits some consideration. However, there are several significant limitations upon investigating Mee or Sherdukpen identity due to the general void of premodern information available about

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any speakers of Kho-Bwa languages. The peoples who use the Mee identity left virtually no traces of their own making in the pre-twentieth century historical record, and we are left with only oral narratives from the modern era to be able to discuss their past social history. This limitation, so very common in research on eastern Himalayan populations, is additionally problematic in the case of the Mee. From the 1870s onwards, this tiny and insignificant hill population experienced disproportionately intensive levels of contacts with often highly ranked sections of the British colonial and later Indian administrations. 155 Following this, their area was developed as a staging point for the northward advance of first British then independent Indian colonisation of the Mon-yul Corridor. Thus, in their origin stories the Mee or Sherdukpen began to adapt their self-representation towards outsiders accordingly.156 It is therefore a methodological imperative to resort to the earliest known Mee narratives that they told about themselves. J.P. Mills (1890-1960) recorded the earliest known Mee origin narrative at Rupa in 1945. At the time, Mills was a highly experienced British colonial ethnographer and administrator whose research on the Naga had preserved many of their oral narratives. 157 The 1945 Rupa narrative claims the Mee ancestor-founder was one Japthong of Tibetan royal pedigree, and that all the Mee ‘clans’ (rung in Mey/Sherdukpen) must be explained in relation to him and his activities. 158 According to this narrative, Japthong migrated south from Central Tibet together with his sons, and also brought along the ancestors of the premodern Mee plebeian or Chao status clans with him into the Mon-yul Corridor. The narrative contains a significant local distinction lost in all later versions. Japthong arrived south with all the Chao clans, except for one. The exception was the so-called Mijenji clan, whom the narrative states already dwelt south of the Ze La pass when Japthong crossed it. These Mijenj are thus being represented as an older ‘indigenous’ population in that area. The Mijenji then attached themselves to Japthong’s group and became absorbed into the Mee clan hierarchy, albeit with a lower status. Among the Chao clans reported by Mills at Rupa during 1945, there were several other Mi-designated descent groups, including the Mijuiji and the Miji, who, unlike the Mijenji,

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must have both come from Tibet according to the origin narrative. 159 These Mi clan names first recorded nearly eighty years ago have become reported in slightly different forms, such as Megedzi or Megẽji, and Midzidzi or Mejiji, by later researchers. Like all instances of such diachronic data, these differences reflect field research circumstances and techniques, as well as in this case the intensive contact that Mey/Sherdukpen speakers have continually had with speakers of Tibetan, Dakpa, Assamese, Hindi and English since the 1940s. The 1945 Mee origin tale motif of the ‘indigenous Mijenji’ is striking in relation to the Mi identity in old Dzala and Dakpa myths and the Mi Zim-pa in the Rgyal rigs examined above. Mijenji is composed of a proper name, Mijen, with the classificatory -ji suffix (following Mills’ transcription). Obviously, the earliest Mijen name recorded by Mills is phonetically very close to Classical Tibetan Mi-zim of the older historical sources belonging to peoples from the north. The -ji suffix indicates human types and social groups in spoken Mey/Sherdukpen, and appears to be a gloss on the -pa nominal suffix in Mi Zim-pa. When reading or hearing many Mee myths or song lyrics and ritual texts, it quickly becomes obvious to anyone who understands Tibetan that these texts have become strongly influenced over time by written Classical and oral colloquial Tibetan sources in terms of both their content and language. It is almost certain that the spoken Mey/ Sherdukpen name Japthong in the 1945 Mee origin narrative is derived from or reflects a Classical Tibetan name. The strong candidate is rGyal-po sTong-rab recorded in some redactions of the Rgyal rigs.160 According to the logic of Tibetan abbreviation patterns, contractions are generated by second syllables being dropped out of multi-syllable compounds. The name rGyal-po sTong-rab is locally abbreviated down to rGyal-(p)-stong, with the residual ‘p’ ref lecting the nominal particle –po in the same manner such particles are often modified and preserved in the Tibetic and East Bodish languages of Bhutan to the west. Thus, the name has become variously pronounced – and subsequently recorded – in the forms Japthong, Jabthang, Jabtang, Gyabtang, Gyaptang, Gyapten, Gyaptong, and so on, 161 depending upon the language or dialect of the local

speakers being reported and the transcription system used. There are many similar examples of such oral transformations of Classical Tibetan names throughout the area. The name may also perhaps incorporate echoes of, or references to, even earlier, historically attested royal names from the region.162 The significance of the rGyal-po sTong-rab name is that this figure was closely associated with the site of Mi Zim-pa in the Rgyal rigs. Thus, the old Mi identity of the seventeenth century origin stories and the Srid-pa’i lha cult texts appears best preserved in these Mee lineage names, the stories about them. It is also significant that the current Mee autonym of the whole Sherdukpen population appears to be so intimately bound up with the cultural centrality of the Mi- clans within it, even though these clans have the lowest ranking in recent times. Considering what we know of Mee society during and since the twentieth century, their Mee autonym and certain features of their clan system beg some fundamental questions. Mee clan organisation has two primary, named status groups; the higher ranked Thong and lower ranked Chao. In almost all respects, Thong and Chao status markers (e.g., dietary taboos, marriage rules, etc.) and known interrelations between the two mirror those of the Bapu and Gila status system for clan organisation described at Thempang (ch. 11). The core Thong ranked clans163 all have a thong element in their names, while none of them have the Mey/Sherdukpen –ji classificatory suffix carried by the Mi- (or Me-) identified clans. All narratives of Mee origins cite the core Thong clans as being ‘royal’ descendants of Japthong, and the core Chao clans merely as their menials who are not ever related to this elite ancestor. Yet, it appears their self-designated Mee autonym represents, or is closest to, the names of their lowest ranked clans. There are other clues that testify to this. The most important non-Buddhist communal ritual for contemporary Mee society, and arguably one highly relevant for its current sense of ‘ethnic’ distinctiveness, is the Khiksaba festival. In chapter 1, I briefly noted Khiksaba’s many similarities with – and a few key differences from – Srid-pa’i lha festivals elsewhere across the region. The central ritual specialist role during Khiksaba is that of the khikzizi or zizi (also transcribed chizi or jiji). This is a role that is exclusive

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to members of Chao clans, such as the Mijenji and Mijuiji. Similarly, the key oratorical role during Khiksaba, namely that of Asu Dechao or the ‘Elder/Expert Speaker’, 164 who publicly recites the origin narrative of Mee society during the festivals, is one held by the Mijuiji clan. Both these ritual roles together amount to the functions enacted by a bon shaman during Srid-pa’i lha worship elsewhere. This already appears to have been comparatively recognised by the Mee themselves. A Mee narrative concerning the origins of local rites and the primordial zizi specialist recorded at Rupa during the mid-1950s stated that “the great God [...] created the Jiji-Priest whose name was Bonsarap [i.e., ‘Bonshenrab’ < CT Bon gShen-rab] and sent him to serve and help mankind.”165 It is obvious the Mee or Sherdukpen have developed as a composite society incorporating different migrant waves and assimilations, just as has been the case, to varying degrees, in all other Mon-yul Corridor societies for which we have detailed social history data. There is a great deal about Mee social history we will never be able to recover due to their invisibility in premodern historical documents. Yet, the Chao status group, with its Mi- (or Me-) identities, appear to be strongly representative of, and exclusively particiating in, a fundamental stratum of Mee identity and cultural heritage, and one that is recognised and respected as being something indispensable by the whole society. The fact that Khiksaba festivals expresss the ‘ancestor propitiation for revitalisation of descent groups’ cultural pattern typical of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and that Khiksaba shares a range of specifics in common with other cult festivals elsewhere, leads me to think that somewhere in the background of the Chao clans within Mee society, there is an echo of the older Mi ethnic or social identity that is elsewhere preserved in the origin stories of the peoples speaking northern East Bodish languages within the cult. All the above indications are reasons to consider that Chao ranked clans with Mi- (or Me-) identities might belong to the hypothetical Mon clans of prehistory. Moreover, the status of Mi- clans of Chao rank within Mee society closely recalls that of the Nami lineage at Tsango discussed in chapter 9, and in sections below and in chapter 18. The Nami hold the lowest rank in local clan organisation, yet they provide all the key ritual specialist roles

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in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. While the Nami (also Na) embody an old Himalayan social identity which I would certainly assign to the Mon clans, all the other clans at Tsango have their roots to the north upon the neighbouring Tibetan Plateau. The exact status of the Mi will remain a subject for speculation until further evidence becomes available.

Ba, Ba-gi and Bha As for the Ba name occurring in the Dakpa and Dzala origin myths discussed above, it belongs to the complex of written Ba/rBa/sBa 166/Bha/Ba-gi/rBa-gi/sBa-gi/Ba-gi-pa/Ba-gyi/ Ba’i/Ba-mo names, and contemporary spoken Bagi, Bagipa and Bayi names for a more recent, single clan identity. Variations of the name occur in a whole range of historical documents and written and oral myths from throughout the region of east Bhutan and the northern and central Mon-yul Corridor, all attesting to an older, widespread ancestral group. In the available written sources, we find Ba/ rBa/sBa/Ba-mo variations of the name are mainly limited to more northern and western parts of the region, while the Bha/Ba-gi/rBa-gi/sBa-gi/Ba-gi-pa/Ba-gyi/Ba’i variants and their modern, spoken Bagi, Bagipa and Bayi versions are all known from southern and eastern parts of the same region. A seventeenth century Ba-geng toponym known from the Rgyal rigs is related to the Ba clan in the older texts of Dakpa and Dzala speakers, and it appears to be an older centre for Ba settlement. In Dakpa and Dzala sources quoted above, the mythical Ba ancestors ‘arrived’ at or ‘came via’ a land called She[r]-re. This refers to the river valley west of and parallel to the lower Kholong Chu valley, which was named She-ri Chu or Shi-ri Chu in the Rgyal rigs, and that later became called Shel or Shere depending upon which source one consults. In the lower Shel or Shere valley is the settlement area consistently named Ba-geng across various Rgyal rigs redactions. The same site still exists there today at contemporary Bhagenla, while within a short distance additional settlements with the names Balam and Bakaphai are found on the next ridge to the north. 167 There is currently no historical source that can explain what the Bageng name’s unique –geng element means. However, it does closely resemble the colloquial epithet given to Tibetan

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Plateau dwellers by Dzala speakers to the north, which is mostly pronounced ging or geng, and below I will argue that we have reason to think Dzala was once spoken in the Shel or Shere valley. Ba-geng certainly appears to have been an early site of established settlement. It has the remains of an old stone stronghold or mkhar on a strategic ridge, and according to another late seventeenth century document Bageng had its own local ruler.168 This all invokes the type of evidence we find for Shar Dung settlement in this region, about which I set out the details in sections to follow. Notably, the close vicinity around Ba-geng or today’s Bhagenla also features Dung toponyms that are otherwise completely absent from the remainder of that area.169 We can conclude that Ba-geng has many of the same characteristics as the Mi Zim-pa site at bTsan-mkhar mentioned above in relation to the Mi, and also considered in chapter 11 in relation to the Dung. Like the Mi, there is little more of certainty we can say about the Ba’s early history, except that the name complex related to it is both old and widespread throughout the research region according to many sources. And, also like Mi, I take it that all these Ba names reflect the presence of one of the Mon clans. In redactions of the Rgyal rigs lacking the Shar sDe-rang genealogical supplement, the Ba-gi/rBa-gi/sBa-gi/Ba-gyi are merely listed in the fifth section as one of the anonymous subject clans (see appx. G). Yet, in those redactions containing the supplement they are designated as an early ‘bonesharing’ clan (rus) of Yewang (CT Ye-spang) who were pioneer settler-rulers, while according in the same account Yewang itself is given the status of the primordial settlement site within the Dirang region of the central Mon-yul Corridor region. The advent there of the Ba-gi/rBa-gi/sBagi ancestors who try to assume leadership around Dirang precedes the subsequent ‘invitation’ of northern Jo-bo clan rulers from Tawang who are accorded a strongly Buddhist profile. As with the name Mi Zim-pa, the presentation of Ba-gi/rBa-gi/sBa-gi identities in the narrative structure of the Rgyal rigs raises doubts and questions. While there are faint, initial hints of what is perhaps an older, ‘indigenous’ hunter-gatherer identity in the narrative, the Ba-gi/rBa-gi/ sBa-gi clan is related back to a founding ancestor named A-mi (or titled A mi) sTong-btsan Yul-[b]zung, also known

as sTong-btsan Ba-gi.170 This first form of the name is suspiciously identical to that of the famous Tibetan imperial era figure sTong-rtsan Yul-zung of the mGar clan mentioned frequently in the Old Tibetan Chronicle. This figure is later invoked as a major character in heroic Buddhist stories about the imperial era in later Classical Tibetan historiographical texts. These stories appear in the inf luential Buddhist historiography titled Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long, which we know the author of the Rgyal rigs resorted to for some of his material. 171 This is a very likely source for the much later sTong-btsan Yul-[b]zung identity and its characteristics in the Rgyal rigs. The Tibetan name or epithet Yul[b]zung means ‘country conqueror’, which is what both the Old Tibetan and Classical Tibetan figures with this name were involved in, the former with historical violence, the latter with legendary skill. The taking control of the Shar sDe-rang area in the Rgyal rigs narrative is exactly what Ami/A mi sTong-btsan Yul-[b]zung, alias sTong-btsan Ba-gi is also involved in, albeit using both violence and skill. The sTong-btsan Yul-[b]zung in Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long tales also appears in Himalayan valleys as a skilled operator, just like his namesake in the Rgyal rigs.172 We also know that local oral tales of origin still maintained by certain populations in the Dirang region are replete with plot outlines and motif complexes drawn straight out of the sTong-btsan Yul[b]zung narratives in the Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long. 173 As with Mi and Mi Zim-pa, in the Rgyal rigs we are once again highly likely witnessing a later Buddhist historiographical reframing of an older Ba/Ba-geng/Ba-gi identity from the Dakpa and Dzala speaking zone. Other ethnographic and historical sources confirm this. At the time of my field research, the few Bagipa clan residents in Dirang Busti and its satellites had an ambiguous status ranking. If one merely inquired cursorily about them, they were held to be of ‘lower class’ and not significant. 174 Such responses did not accord at all with their complex origin story and status as the [r]Ba-gi rus in the Rgyal rigs. However, when I undertook detailed interviews with elderly informants reconstructing kinship, affinity and land rights in Dirang, the data revealed this clan actually had a high status and once possessed considerable land holdings, and partly still do. 175 This small clan had fallen upon hard

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times, with its standing in decline, its members significantly depleted, and its properties often lost to others which forced some of its members to work in menial roles, such as village ritual specialists. Bagipa are meant to follow all the social restrictions, such as dietary taboos and marriage rules, which apply to Bapu ranked clans in Dirang,176 being the same rules as the high ranked Dungkharpa and Sertipa in that community (see appx. H). Both these latter clans have explicit Jo-bo pedigrees and claim their descent from the Dakpa speaking Tawang region.177 As we saw in chapter 12, one of the non-Jo-bo ancestral clan names cited in the mideighteenth century Khyung gdung rabs were the Ba resident at Shar-tsho in Tawang. They are without doubt the Shar Ba-mo already mentioned earlier in the Fifth Dalai Lama’s edit of 1680, as well as in other older documents such as the ‘constitution’ (bca’ yig) of Tawang Monastery.178 One other piece of information is perhaps significant here. Until recently, Bagipa clan members served as hereditary bonpo in Dirang Busti until their lineage ended due to deaths of eligible holders and the general decline of the clan. During the local Chisöshe clan festival that fits the profile of the Sridpa’i lha cult at Dirang Busti, I recorded that Bagipa bonpo were ranked first to present their offerings. Perhaps all this has a deeper background? Echoes of the Bagipa bonpo are found in a much older generation of names that take us back with certainty to lHo-brag and gTam-shul. I am referring here to the purely mythological motif of the ‘royal priest’. This motif from myths has never been historically verified as applying to any actual imperial Tibetan ruler or royal court and its cultic activity once found upon the Tibetan Plateau. 179 It frequently appeared in Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer’s early historiographical work Chos ’byung me tog snying po sbrang rtsi’i bcud. Not only can we date this text’s writing accurately to the 1170s-1190s era, but also we can think of this work as being a ‘local’ production in terms of the wider research region. Nyang-ral personally knew the areas of southernmost Central Tibet and the north of proto-Bhutan being discussed here. He was born in lHo-brag, lived most of his life at gTam-shul – discovery area of the dGa’-thang manuscripts – and was active right on the border of proto-Bhutan at Kho-mthing just nearby the northernmost Srid-pa’i lha worship communities.

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Nyang-ral’s mythic depiction of early Tibetan rulers had each of them paired together with their own bon po and gshen. He described the latter as being ‘ritual specialists’ (rim gro pa) who protected the personal welfare (sku bsrungs) of a lineage of Tibetan emperors that ostensibly existed long before the beginning of the historical Tibetan imperium during the seventh century CE. In one such instance, Nyangral cites a Bha’i bon po called Shog-brag. 180 Not only is this specialist’s citation almost homophonic with present-day Bagi[pa] bonpo, the personal name Shog-brag is comparable to that of the ritual specialist Zhog-’bru featuring in the Lha’i gsung rabs. There are multiple points of potential significance here. As we will see below, Nyang-ral’s life was lived out entirely within the eastern orbit of the Dung population of southernmost Tibet, and there are a multitude of traces of Dung migration southwards from there into the Mon-yul Corridor and north-eastern Bhutan. It is thus of great interest in this context that, in the Rgyal rigs, we find reference to the place name sNyog-gdung Bha-rimpa (also Ba/sBa-rim-pa)181 for an ancestral location within the Dirang district not far north of the present settlement area of the modern Bagipa clan. As I will discuss below, one possible reading of sNyog-gdung here is ‘gDung children’, while Ba/sBa/Bha-rim-pa literally means ‘the Ba/sBa/Bha succession’. This topographical trace connecting Dung and Ba/Bha names also ref lects the joint occurrence of other Dung and Ba/Bha names around the old stronghold-based settlement of Ba-geng mentioned above, the mythical arrival place of the Ba clan in the region. Nyang-ral’s twelfth century Bha’i bon po figure is, to be sure, one component of a Buddhist era historiographical motif retrospectively projected back onto the past as an image of Tibetan imperial greatness. But, the significant question to be asked is where did early historiographers such as Nyang-ral get their material? We know the dGa’-thang manuscripts from Nyangral’s own home area strongly suggest he lived within a ‘bon’identified milieu of rites and myths dedicated to mundane goals. And, as we will see below, he also wrote directly within the historical context of lands populated by the Shar Dung peoples. His Bha’i bon po may well reflect memories or personal experience of local social history and identities in that context, whatever else it was intended to project as part of his larger literary project. Similar examples for other

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old social identities in the Lha’i gsung rabs related back to Nyang-ral’s work will be given below, and they should all be read and considered together. The brief mention of the Mi and the Ba in the Lha’i gsung rabs represents something like the tip of a veritable iceberg of a deeper but mostly shadowy ethnic and cultural history that, with caution, we might only catch tantalising glimpses of nowadays. Since the myth has both the Mi and the Ba ‘arriving’ in the same region, are we to consider that they, too, like the Khu, [b]Se-ru and gNam-sa who dominate the narrative, also represent early migrant groups coming from, or via, adjacent southernmost Tibetan areas? Or do the indicators point to a set of ancient identities that straddled the ecological frontier between the southernmost Plateau and the Himalayan valley to the south? At present, such questions can only be posed, not answered, and both possibilities might be relevant for the same names. The Na clan name considered below is another case with exactly the same status. If it were assumed they did come from the Tibetan Plateau, there is certainly one interesting candidate name as a forerunner of the Mi people. This would be the ethnonym Mi, Mi-nyag or Me-nyag for the population(s) whom Tibetan sources view as coming from the far eastern Tibetan Plateau margins in early times. These same name forms were closely associated with the historical, Qiangic speaking Tangut (Xixia). Such names also continued to be so amongst later, more southerly speakers of Qiangic languages. This includes speakers of Muya/Munya/Munya (earlier Minyak), but especially speakers of Northern and Southern Qiang, the communities of which still preserve the same old autonym forms that include hMa, rMa, rMe, Mei, rMi, and so forth. In relation to some of the clan names to be discussed below, particularly the lHo and the Na, as well as in relation to the data reviewed in chapters 17-18, the significance of these associations will become increasingly apparent.

Khu The clan name Khu in the Lha’i gsung rabs highly likely reflects an old upper (i.e., southern) Yar-lung valley lineage

or clan. The Khu numbered among those described as “the decisive Yar-stod clans” in political terms during the Tibetan imperial era, with members holding high government offices.182 Guntram Hazod locates their ancient territory at ’Phong-po, in the upper – and thus more southern – reaches of the Yar-lung valley catchment system. 183 However, the post-imperial status of descent groups calling themselves Khu south of the Yar-lung valley system, in the regions directly adjacent to proto-Bhutan and Mon-yul where the cult is spread, is little known. In the lHa Bug-pa-can genealogy of the late fifteenth century, we find mention of one early Khu lineage (rgyud), which were servants of a Bug-pa-can ruler. They migrated and resettled further south of the Yarlung region at bCung-gtso and Se-khun around the Gri-gu mTsho, and these are later known as settlements of the Grigu (or Gri-khu) pastoralists. 184 bCung-gtso and Se-khun were a matter of a mere few days foot travel in premodern conditions from the Kholong Chu and Khoma Chu valleys that feature as final settlement zones in the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative. In that text, the Khu are said to have the mountain deity Yar-lha Sham-po as their pho lha. This association or cultural memory fits the overall geographical and social history picture we are dealing with. Yar-lha Shampo mountain lies not far north of the Gri-gu area, and not far south of ’Phong-po. Moreover, thirteenth century texts from southernmost Central Tibet identify Khu-bza’ Khuma, literally ‘Khu Wife Khu Mother’, as consorting with ’Ode Gung-rgyal to produce the deity Yar-lha Sham-po.185 This is a sure sign of Khu clan ancestral links with major Srid-pa’i lha before the cult became established further south in the Himalayas. At sites around far north-eastern Bhutan, and in the northern Mon-yul Corridor, where Khu clan settlement or traces are found, some bon shamans maintain ritual texts for worship of Yar-lha Sham-po within their own local versions of the Srid-pa’i lha cult.186 In the context of the cult, Khu references in old mythological sources may add something to the historical traces. But these are only admissible to the extent that the sources themselves can be localised as coming from the actual region we are considering. In the narrative of the progenitor emperor preserved in the Mkhas pa lde’u redaction from southern Tibet, in addition to Khu-bza’ Khu-ma we find

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the name Khu-yug Mang-skyes is closely associated with the super-progenitor lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. 187 While this name circulates in various myths, our present interest in its historical location in southernmost Central Tibet are the leading syllabic elements Khu and Mang. Here, again, we can consult Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer’s locally written historiographical work. Nyang-ral had the rulers he named gNam-spu and gZhung-btsan-lde paired with a bon po of the Khu identified as Mang-bzher-gnyan. Following that, Khri gNyan-gzung-btsan is paired with the Khu-bo bon po Mang-bkra La-legs-pa. Finally, the son of sTag-ri gNyan-gzigs, named ’Brong-gnyan-lde’u, was paired with the bon po of the Khu called Mang-rje lHa-’od. 188 As in the case of the Ba and Bha’i bon po mentioned above, one plausible explanation could be that Nyang-ral’s Khu and Khu-bo designated bon po certainly suggest the Khu clan or lineage title, and that its members from southernmost Central Tibet were once local bon po ritual specialists within the living memory of Nyang-ral’s lifetime. This might explain why Khu migrant descendants later maintained the Srid-pa’i lha cult as bon po in the Himalayas, as the ethnographic data reveals. Finally, it is worth mentioning that not only the Khu name, but also the Mang proper name for Khu clan ritual specialists in these very old southernmost central Tibetan cultural materials became preserved for another shadowy founder community in a Himalayan valley where the Srid-pa’i lha cult has been established. The Mang name features centrally in the origin myth of the gTsang-mo clan of Ye-spang in Dirang, who maintained a strong and old tradition of Srid-pa’i lha worship headed by bon po specialists up until the time of my field research.189

[b]Se-ru Along with Khu, [b]Se is an ancient name in Tibetan imperial history. Our earliest records are in the Old Tibetan Chronicle. The legendary Se Khyung pair mentioned alongside the lHo rNgegs pair are little understood compound identities signifying either ethnic or lineage-based groups, or both, while Se-re-khri and bSe[’] rNol-po appear as names of kings, and bSe Do-re sNya-sto was the son of the imperial

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counsellor dBa’s dByi-tshab.190 Rolf Stein first pointed out the connection between old [b]Se identities in Tibet and the ’A-zha and ‘Qiangic’ Mi-nyag peoples of the far northeastern and eastern Tibetan Plateau who were absorbed into the Tibetan imperial formation. Stein also surveyed post-eleventh century Classical Tibetan sources in which the [b]Se and [b]Se ’A-zha invariably figure among the core of human proto-groups in Tibetan language myths.191 These later sources have influenced the Rgyal rigs, which mentions the primordial Se and the four ‘clan stocks’ that separated from them, although such references throw no light on who the [b]Se-ru clan in the research region might be. Old Tibetan documents record the ’A-zha royal family staying at a place called Se-tong in the ’A-zha country during the early eighth century, while a person from the imperial unit serving there is referred to as Se-tong-pa and was probably an ’A-zha himself.192 The oldest Tibetan language record of the Se-ru name form was reconstructed as Se-ru’ by Frederick W. Thomas from an Old Tibetan wooden slip document found in the southern Tarim Basin. 193 If accurate, it may again point to the ’A-zha whose old kingdom was located in that area. In later Classical Tibetan historiographical and hagiographical literature recorded by Buddhist authors, a Se-hu name regularly appears in relation to the Mi-nyag population(s),194 while a Se-ru name is associated with the early btsan po Srong-btsan sGam-po.195 The oldest record of the [b]Se-ru name we have in any document from the research region has the Se-ru spelling. It is listed as a settlement name in Padma Gling-pa’s 1487 itinerary of his journey to the La-’og Yul-gsum (i.e., Tawang) region. 196 Both the Se-ru and bSe-ru forms occur in later documents as place and clan names. The name’s precise origins remain obscure. I assume the local [b]Se-ru form used in the research area either represents a preservation of prefifteenth century Tibetan forms mentioned above, or some sub-regional development of older Tibetan [b]Se names. It may be from an old lHo-brag variant of [b]Se such as Se’u,197 since the suffixed ’u vowel, which normally marks a diminutive, is rather common on clan and other names in both lHobrag and north-eastern Bhutan, not to mention in very old documents such as the Sha slungs and sTe’u manuscript that

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appears to come from the same general area. It could also be based upon the descriptive phrasing [b]Se rus, literally ‘[b]Se patriclan’. As is the case with Khu, [b]Se named lineages or clans are found in southern central Tibet not far to the north of the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s Himalayan distribution zone. In a fourteenth century work, Se is unambiguously reported as a southernmost Tibetan ‘clan’ (gdung rus) name of the twelfth century from gNyal-stod.198 This is a region just north of Mon mTsho-sna and one through which the three Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru clan ancestors in the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative pass on their migration down to the Himalayan valleys. In its dynastic origin narrative, the late fifteenth century lHa Bug-pa-can genealogy of Yar-lung rulers also lists the Se – along with the Khu and sBa – as one of the thirteen early clans who first invite the ruler.199 Further, the Mon mTsho-sna area features many cognate Se/bSe/ Si historical toponyms, including bSe-ba-mkhar, mKhar Se-phu, Seti Chu, Se La, Se-khun, Sikung, Sikung Chu and Sire La.200 This unique concentration is highly likely related to historical presence of [b]Se and Se-ru clan or social and ancestral identities. As demonstrated in the Tsango documentation (ch. 9), some of these names, but especially bSe-ba-mkhar located in pastoral areas north of mTsho-sna rDzong and south-east of the Gri-gu mTsho lake, also occur as settlement and community names in north-east Bhutan where the Se-ru migrants mentioned in the Lha’i gsung rabs had been present as settlers. The same bSe-ba-mkhar name occurs in the Rgyal rabs of 1688 in connection with a gDung origin narrative describing a southward migration from southern Tibet. In my Himalayan research region, the [b]Se-ru clan name in earlier texts has undergone the same long-term linguistic transformations as the Khu name (e.g., Khu/Khu-mo/ Khumu/Khum/Kho). I found Se-ru/bSe-ru/Ser-mo/Sermu/Serm forms attested in local written and spoken sources. While the Se-ru name frequently occurs in documents from north-east Bhutan, I did not record it as any longer being a living clan or lineage identity in that region. Its most evident, persistent occurrence is associated with the old La-’og Yul-gsum (i.e., Tsho-gsum) region in Tawang district of the Mon-yul Corridor, but especially the village named

Seru, written both Se-ru and bSe-ru. This site appears to be one of the oldest historically attested ‘stronghold’ (mkhar) settlements of the entire region. When Padma Gling-pa arrived in La-’og Yul-gsum during 1487, and again in 148889, he visited Se-ru and a community territory (yul) there named Rus-bu-mkhar, literally the ‘Patriclan Offspring Stronghold’. The same place, recorded as Rus-bo-mkhar, was described during the late seventeenth century as having been a pre-existing site at bSe-ru that was appropriated by the Jo-bo clan (see ch. 12). Just as the early Buddhist historiographers from southern Tibet wrote narratives mentioning Khu and Bha bon po ritual specialists, there are similar references to Se bon po that need to be treated with the same interpretive cautions and possibilities as those former references.201 In a development that may be related to the spread of an earlier Se proto-clan from the Tibetan Plateau into another region of the high Himalayas, Charles Ramble explored the status of Se as an ethnonym in highland Nepal, and drew attention to all the records connecting the Gurung (or Tamu-mai) and Tamang peoples with the name Se.202 One reason why this connection is of interest is the close similarities between various aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and bon shaman practice, and the rich shamanic tradition-complexes maintained by both Gurung and western Tamang populations, a number of which have been noted throughout this study. Further afield to the east, the Se are recorded as one of the four Naxi proto-clans along with the Ye, Ma and He clans.203 This is significant in relation to discussions in chapter 18, in which I link a series of old clan names and autonyms shared between communities practicing the Srid-pa’i lha cult and populations speaking Naic- and Qiangic languages of the far eastern Tibetan Plateau. Among Naxi proto-clans, tradition states it is only the Se and Ye and their descendants who perform the Muân bpò’ or ‘Propitiation of Heaven’ ceremony for annual revitalisation of particlan and agnatic groupings.204 In chapter 17, I will comparatively demonstrate that the premodern Naxi Muân bpò’ is the closest known ethnographic parallel we have for the cult festivals used to worship Srid-pa’i lha.

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gNam-sa To my present knowledge, gNam-sa has not so far been recorded as a clan or lineage name within the central and southern Tibetan Plateau region. This might be explained if it is exclusively a Shar Dung clan name (see below). The written compound gnam sa itself has an older mythological and political character. Literally meaning ‘sky-earth’, it is frequently encountered in older Tibetan myths and in Srid-pa’i lha rabs narratives. It designates a fundamental cosmogonic/cosmologic concept, but it is also an ancient metaphorical reference to the ruler.205 However, as the social identity of a descent group, this written form could well represent a development or folk etymology of an older proper name or term. In the present context, there are two possibilities to explore. The gNam-sa clan name that has come down to us in this form in local documents dating back to the seventeenth century could have originally been Nam, with later [g]Nam-sa forms representing a lineage descended from a ‘Nam lady’ (Nam za). This type of construction is not unusual in Old Tibetan records. For example, we find a woman of the sNa-nam clan referred to as sNa-nam za’ in the Old Tibetan Chronicle, while the female character sNam-za’i sNam-khrid-ma occurs in a ritual antecedent narrative concerning sacrificial animals for death rites in the document PT 1289.206 The form [g]Nam[-sa/za] is unknown as an older ‘Tibetan’ clan (cf. sNa-nam), yet the Nam name itself was certainly present in the north-eastern regions of the Plateau system during the Tibetan imperial epoch, when it designated non-Tibetan peoples and the area they occupied. Various scholars discussing that region have cited the “existence of a qiang tribe of Nan (*Nam) or Nanshui before 713 A.D.”207 This old name, as ethnonym or autonym, and designating a geographical or settlement area, is also known in the forms Nam, Nam-pa and Nam-tig. Frederick W. Thomas – rightly or wrongly – used the Nan/Nam name to designate an otherwise unknown Tibeto-Burman language found in old manuscripts from the southern Silk Road.208 Thomas considered these texts transcribed using Tibetan orthography among the Dunhuang manuscripts to be most probably identified with the

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Nam or their region. These ‘Qiang’ peoples were apparently settled in mountains north of the Kokonor Lake (CT mTsho sNgon-po), meaning the Nan Shan or Qilian Shan (or Ch’i-lien Shan) ranges, also named Richthofen Mountains on modern maps. At least some part of Thomas’ identification is significant for the present discussion. As Gabriella Molè pointed out, “Thomas makes these three names to derive from the Tibetan word gnam, “sky”; the name Nanshan would be therefore the exact equivalent of Ch’i-lien shan “heaven mountains”.”209 The same Nam name is associated with the Sum-pa, whom Rolf Stein called the Namdong or Dong Sumpa, and described as “an aboriginal tribe situated in the [north-eastern] Tibetan frontier, where they were in contact with the Chinese.”210 As was the case with the ’A-zha population, the Tibetans quickly assimilated the Sum-pa into their expanding empire. An Old Tibetan document recorded the name Nam lDong-prom as site of an imperial council meeting in 702 at which the Sum[-pa] ‘horn’ (Sum-ru) of the empire was formerly established, while the site of Nam-ra Zha-don is mentioned in a later source as its administrative centre.211 Stein noted historical references to the Sum-pa exchanging brides with Qiangic groups, and as serving the empire in Mi-nyag (cf. lDong Mi-nyag in various Tibetan language sources). He also described them giving iron as their special form of tribute, and that “excellent iron swords were the speciality of the Ch’iang of Amdo (Namdong, Dong Sumpa).”212 The two examples of Nam names above could have been the basis for a later [g]Nam-sa name literally meaning ‘Nam place/region’ (cf. names such as lHa-sa). In a text from the mid-1200s, we find mention of ‘four kings’ each assigned a different geographical or ethnonymic status in a formulaic list using these names: Nam-sa lDe-rgyal; Bal-po Lang-ling-rgyal; Sum-pa lCags-rgyal (‘Sum-pa Iron King’); and Mon rTse-rgyal.213 The four names appear to represent the four cardinal directions, and what we know about the ideal use of names such as Bal-po (west), Mon (south) and Sum-pa (north or east) suggests it is most likely Nam-sa would have been associated with either north or east. The Nam social identity also appears frequently in an undated collection of texts for rites related to mundane

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goals, the so-called Gnyan ’bum. The assembly of these texts into a collection is possibly contemporaneous with the Klu ’bum, and, like that latter corpus, works in the Gnyan ’bum selectively incorporate and reuse older textual materials. For example, certain texts include the flourish “in the language of Nam-pa lDong” (nam pa ldong gi skad du na), which parallels the similar phrase rgyal nam pa’i skad du na occurring in some Old Tibetan documents. The narratives in the Gnyan ’bum are replete with characters who are ‘Nam offspring’ (Nam bu) and ‘lDong offspring’ (lDong bu). Such indicators led Daniel Berounský to tentatively conclude “the likelihood that a hypothetical core of the myths has its origin in the traditions of the Nam area (or principality) of the Dong clan”, while a range of other content indicators also point to these texts being localised somewhere in the north-eastern Amdo region of the Tibetan Plateau.214 Berounský has also drawn attention to the fact that the ritual specialists for rites concerning mundane goals, namely gShen-rab Mi-bo and Ya-ngal, along with the messenger bat, all occur in these Gnyan ’bum texts in the same manner as they do in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and in the dGa’-thang manuscripts. He was lead to pose the question, “Could it be that the priest, Shenrab Miwo, stems from the ritual tradition of the Nam principality in eastern Tibet? On the one hand this cannot be ruled out, but on the other, it cannot be proved either.”215 If this question can be posed for Shenrab Miwo in the Gnyan ’bum, it could likewise be posed for Ya-ngal. All the interconnections just listed above should be considered in relation to the ancestral background of the otherwise little known gNam-sa of later times, particularly in the ‘bon’-identified milieu in which we find that identity. A second possibility related to the type of ritual and narrative system reflected in the Gnyan ’bum just discussed is that gNam-sa as a regional clan identity might also reflect an old title for an autonomous ritual specialist who once performed ‘rites’ (bon). There is indeed a Nam-bon ancestral lha or auxiliary named in the Lha’i gsung rabs, while Nyang-ral mentions gnam bon and gshed (or gshen?) lha as mixed teachings of bon po serving the early emperors. 216 This possibility would not exclude speculations about an older Nam name representing ‘Qiangic’ or Sum-pa origins

in the first discussion above. In the dGa’-thang manuscripts, one alternative rite method listed within the exorcism and purification series of the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs cycle, is termed gnam sa mchod pa, literally ‘sky-earth offering’. It seems clear from the context that the primordial purification specialist Ya-ngal – or a type of specialist termed a ya ngal – is closely related to performance of gnam sa mchod pa, especially since Ya-ngal is responsible for purifying the vertical ritual passage between earth and sky in these same rites.217 As we saw in chapter 14, the Bshad mdzod account of ‘Bon’ from Gru-shul during the 1400s listed a series of nine rites, with the fourth one named gnam sa and the fifth on the list being a Ya-ngal rabs. It might thus also be possible that the older – and probably hereditary – ritual specialist role designated to perform gnam sa rites became the clan name of the local gNam-sa descent lineage somewhere in Mon mTsho-sna, Gru-shul or lHo-brag Shar areas of southernmost Central Tibet. Clans named after older ritual specialist roles are not unprecedented, and the earlier gShen and later Ya-ngal (or Yang) clans give us two examples of the wider phenomenon from the Tibetan Plateau. When I recorded my fieldwork data, there was indeed a ritual specialist role for Srid-pa’i lha worship titled namsa at Tsango (see ch. 9). This is a hereditary post whose incumbents are always Namsa (written gNam-sa) clan or lineage members from Tsango, where they have their own ritual ground called Namsalang or ‘Namsa’s field’. Among the Drung further along the extended eastern Himalayas in north-west Yunnan, we find spoken nàm-sà is the term used for ‘shaman’, and in which Drung nàm more precisely refers to the ‘auxiliary spirits’ of this type of shaman. 218 One of the nàm-sà shaman’s main ritual techniques involves making vertical ritual journeys up through a multi-layered sky world and returning to earth with vitality obtained from the male progenitor ancestor being. This is of course the same rite as found performed by bon shamans in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and one that is otherwise uncommon along the extended eastern Himalayas. It may well be the case that such similarities between the nàm-sà of north-west Yunnan and the namsa/gnam sa/gNam-sa references in the Srid-pa’i lha cult and the dGa’-thang manuscripts further west reflect a very old ethnic relationship.

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There are older regional traces of the Himalayan gNam-sa clan. The name occurs for an actual clan (rus) which existed during the seventeenth century in the short clan name list of Section V in the Rgyal rigs (see appx. G). The same work also names several gNam-sa individuals. A person named gNam-sa ’Bang was the founder of one main branch in the rJe clan among the Jo-bo complex, and that would take the name back very far in time according to the given genealogical scheme in that work.219 Also, in discussions of g.Yogdung Wang-ma lineage affairs in one redaction of the Rgyal rigs, a minor official is reported several times as being a kar rdzi – apparently in charge of dairy producing livestock 220 – named Padma of the clan gNam-sa.221 He must have been active during the late sixteenth- or early seventeenth century. During my regional field survey of lineage and clan identities, living Namsa clan members were found in several distant areas. They exist in the upper Khoma Chu and upper Kholong Chu valleys of north-east Bhutan which are both mentioned as the gNam-sa migration destination in the Lha’i gsung rabs, while I also recorded them in the Kalaktang region of the lower Mon-yul Corridor much further south.

lHo and Na The Lha’i gsung rabs features another more ancient clan identity which is likely the most significant name in the background to the origin story. This is lHo, written in the Lha’i gsung rabs as lHo’u in the diminutive fashion featuring in many names in older documents from this region. The narrative refers specifically to the ‘lHo scion’ (lHo bu) named rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re, who appears as an ‘outsider’ ritual specialist (rgyal) acting as the transmitter of some core rites to the three migrant clans Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru. Since rgyal means ‘ritual specialist’ in the text, this name might also be designating a ritual specialist termed rgyal gnyan and named rGyal-’byor-re. As noted in appendix J, proper names ending with the syllable -re are both ancient and quite particular to this region of southernmost Tibet and the adjacent Himalayan highlands. All this might imply the lHo clan were already settled somewhere in the border region between far north-eastern Bhutan and southernmost Tibet when the Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru

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arrived from the north. This is in fact what all of the oldest indications reveal to us. The ancient lHo clan was based in or around lHo-brag. Probably the earliest source on this area is the fragment of the Old Tibetan Chronicle preserved in PT 1144, which mentions that Klu-ngur was the ruler of lHo-brag during the time of the first recorded ruler in the Tibetan royal succession, sTag-bu sNya-gzigs (ca. late sixth to early seventh century).222 The Old Tibetan Annals and Old Tibetan documents regarding imperial administration of the southern Silk Road colonies mention various lHo clan and lHo-brag individuals who served the empire. 223 The Old Tibetan ritual texts – in which widely differing redactions of catalogues of minor kingdoms feature as a literary device – first record names highly relevant to the Srid-pa’i lha cult. An Old Tibetan catalogue in the document PT 1060 cites the polity of lHo-ga Lang-drug with lHo rje Lang-ling as its lord, while another Old Tibetan myth cites the lord of lHo as jo bo or rje lHo-bu Lang-ling. 224 Moreover, in chapter 3 I have already discussed both Old Tibetan and later ca. eleventh century manuscripts which mention lHo bon and Mon bon ritual specialists for this region, exactly the same as occurs in old references to the Khu, [b]Se[-ru] and gNam[-sa] clan identities. These ancient records of the lHo also give us our oldest source for the Lang-ling element in the Gu-se Lang-ling ancestral identity that has remained central at many sites of the Srid-pa’i lha cult until today. Who were these lHo? And why did their old Langling name become associated with the most important Gu ancestral deity? The earliest origin myth of the lHo and their sibling clans occurs as a narrative fragment preserved within a redaction of the myth of the progenitor lha emperor, gNya’-khri bTsan-po. This so-called gSang-ba Bon-lugs redaction occurs in the Mkhas pa lde’u history dating back to the mid1200s, although it must have been older when recorded. There are a number of reasons why this redaction of the myth and the entire Mkhas pa lde’u text are highly significant in the present context. For one, the text’s sources and its author almost certainly have a strongly southern central Tibetan provenance.225 The gSang-ba Bon-lugs narrative is

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to date the longest and oldest known version of the myth. Moreover, as was frequently apparent in parts II-III of the first volume, sections of this narrative and the complex it belongs to contain many specific references and cultural patterns also occurring within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, the ritual journey of the progenitor emperor from the top of the multilevelled sky world down to earth being the most impressive of these. In the myth’s description of gNya’-khri bTan-po’s horizontal transit through twenty-seven terrestrial locations (gshegs rabs nyi shu bdun) immediately following his initial descent to earth, the emperor reaches an area named Bra-la sGo-drug. At a locality there called Bud-kyi Bramsna, he encounters three smut-covered (? khre khre can) boys whose persons are adorned with bird feathers, and who are regarded as a ‘bad omen’ (ltas ngan) sent by the southern Mon populations. These three boys are seized and taken along, although their Mon language is unintelligible to the Tibetan speaking royal party. One of the trio escapes, and travels through the ravines of Lo-ro. This is a well-known southernmost Tibetan Plateau area that, together with references to Mon, locates the action in the narrative immediately adjacent to the Dakpa speaking Tawang region. These three Mon boys are each identified as being the clan ancestors (mes po) of the ancient lHo, sNyags and Myang clans, respectively.226 It is highly significant that the feather-covered Mon ancestor of the lHo in this narrative is named Na Ga-ber, while the Mon ancestor of the sNyags is named lCang Ka-ber. We already know of closely cognate personal identities preserved in the older dGa’-thang texts from gTam-shul adjacent to lHo-brag, in which a ‘king of bad omens’ (ltas ngan gyi rgyal po), named Gang-par Ge-ber, ‘wears a cloak of various bird feathers upon his body’.227 Both these cognate figures and names in ca. eleventh and thirteenth century manuscripts from southernmost Central Tibet recall the feather-covered costumes of contemporary ritual specialists along the eastern Himalayas, as well as those of ancient bon and gshen discussed in volume I. Moreover, as I will demonstrate in detail in chapters 17-18, the Na name represents an identifiable ancient clan or ethnic group whose traces occur across all parallel highland valleys of northeastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, and who are

still represented there by branches of a living clan. This Na identity is a crucial key to probing the shadowy prehistory of the area. The lCang Ka-ber name belonging to the lHo ancestor’s Mon companion, and the one who is forebear of the sNyags clan, appears to be related to the living clan called gTsang or rTsang – later transformed into gTsang-mo – who were original inhabitants of the central Mon-yul Corridor according to the oldest origin narratives we have in the seventeenth century Rgyal rigs genealogies.228 This lCang/gTsang/rTsang name is also encoded into the historical geography of far eastern Bhutan. 229 As clans still identifiable today, and according to all our available evidence and indicators, both the Na clan at Tsango and the gTsang[-mo] clan of Yewang in Dirang appear to be the oldest worship communities within the entire Sridpa’i lha cult, apparently preceding the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru who migrated in from the north. This conforms to what the Lha’i gsung rabs is telling us, namely that lHo clan ritual specialists – and by implication their ancestral kinsmen the Na – were already present in the region before the three Tibetan Plateau clans arrived from the north. The name Na for lHo clan ancestors who are from a Mon population appears to belong to a complex of autonyms used by specific groups settled between north-west Yunnan and north-east Bhutan. I will return to a detailed consideration of Na autonyms in chapters 17-18. There I will set out a case that the Na, together with several other identities, represent groups within an older non-Tibetan or ‘proto-Tibetan’ population whose ancestry is shared with speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages from the far east of the Tibetan Plateau, and that the Srid-pa’i lha cult has one deep and significant set of its cultural-historical roots in that eastern region. This very connection explains why the ancient Lang-ling name of the lHo clan is attached to the Gu ancestral deity, in the form Gu-se Lang-ling. The name Gu is in fact the principal ancestral identity among various peoples far to the east who speak Qiangic languages, and is also recognised as that of the progenitor of the four proto-clans among the Naxi who are, at least in part, very likely descendants of speakers of Qiangic languages to their north (see chs. 17, 18). Moreover, ancient speakers of Qiangic languages of the far eastern Tibetan Plateau also have the old name Lhε, which some

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scholars have associated with the lHo clan we are discussing here. Rolf Stein stated that: The Tangut (Qiang, Xixia) had two names with which to designate themselves: 1) Mi or Mi Nyag, the more frequent, and 2) Lhε. The second expression has been compared to the name of the Lho (Rngegs) tribe from the Old Tibetan Chronicle.230 One can augment Stein’s statement. For example, old Minyag could equally be referring to ancestors of the current Muya/Munya/Mu-nya speakers of western Sichuan whose language is Qiangic. Also, while lHo in Old Tibetan probably ref lects the ethnonym Lhε, it may also be related to Qiangic Tangut vocabulary for both ‘clan’ (lhew) and ‘ancestor’ (low). 231 All these associations are underlined by wording from the Old Tibetan document PT 1287, in the account of a hunt and game carcass division in the much-discussed song of Sad-mar-kar. There, on subsequent lines, the ethnonym and/or clan name pair lHo rNgegs is recorded in the form lHe rNgegs, and once again elsewhere in the same manuscript.232 It is very likely that any final orthography for the name remained unsettled at the time PT 1287 was recorded, while many other names in the Old Tibetan record have very consistent spellings by then. Moreover, the literal Tibetan meaning of lHo as ‘south’ may well be a meaningful – and even possibly Chinese inspired 233 – folk etymology for all such Qiangic referents in relation to the area of settlement we are concerned with here.

Summary The above discussion of social identities featuring in the Lha’i gsung rabs and other regional documents and narratives was necessarily explorative and in part often speculative, due to the paucity of actual historical sources we can draw upon. Overall, it does seem likely that the actual clans or descent groupings with the same names we record today in the region do have ancient roots and traces as real social identities from the ecological frontier zone encompassing the southernmost Tibetan Plateau and adjacent Himalayan highlands. The Khu, [b]Se and lHo more

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likely represent actual southernmost Tibetan Plateau descent groups. The gNam-sa clan appears to be specific to the research region itself, albeit perhaps developed out of an older and widespread ritual specialist designation. According to my assessment of all current evidence, the Mi/ Mee, Ba and Na are our strongest candidates for so-called Mon clans, whose history in the research region appears to be deeper. Additionally, there are some indications that [b]Se, gNam-sa, lHo and Mi/Mee might all be distantly connected to some Qiangic ‘proto-Tibetan’ groups originally from the far east and north-east of the Tibetan Plateau system. As I will detail in chapter 18, Mi/Mee, Ba/ Ba-gi/Ba’i and Na autonyms can be traced eastwards along the Himalayas back to far eastern Tibetan Plateau margin regions. These indications also accord very well with the hypothesis and evidence set out in chapter 17. Thus, in the final two chapters I am claiming that these Mon clans are likely older migrants from the east. Although we have no scientific dating of Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts so far, there is a whole range of features in the analysis of the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative above providing excellent clues as to its possible age. One is the attested geographical spread of the narrative and its users. Since both the Lha’i gsung rabs and the ancestral clan communities who use it extend right across the conf lict-forged border between the premodern state formation of Bhutan and the Tibetan annexed Mon-yul Corridor that both arose during the late seventeenth century, the text and settlement spread of its users highly likely predates that period. The presence in the text of very rare toponyms such as Dung-rang, which are so far only known in documents from the 1500s, is another indicator of its age. Moreover, much content in the narrative obviously signals very old cultural perspectives. These are not only evident in the cosmology and names in play, but also in the political discourse embodied in the text’s language and images. These will briefly be commented upon below. It is noteworthy that the Lha’i gsung rabs and other local clan origin narratives found and used in Srid-pa’i lha cult communities are starkly different from those found upon the Tibetan Plateau. Most significantly, they do not draw

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upon the clichéd mythical schemes presenting ethnogenesis and sets of ethnic identities and ‘primordial clans’ that form a sprawling post-eleventh century Classical Tibetan literature concerning the subject of group origins. Our local texts thus appear to by-pass the bulk of styles of representing origins and genealogy found in Classical Tibetan literature. This is a strong reminder that notions and narratives of origins in the cult ref lect more closely the few pre-eleventh century Old Tibetan myths we know of, in which ancestors descend directly from the sky world and develop upon the earth. The same type of observation about our local texts can be made in relation to Tibetan religious literature. All the members of actual clans with names found in the texts have long been Buddhist converts and remain so today. Yet, their internal origin and migration narratives are always non-Buddhist. Some narratives, like the Lha’i gsung rabs, are explicitly ‘Bon’ in the style we have described above, others have no ‘religious’ references at all. They thus differ markedly from parallel origin narratives already known from the region, such as those of Jo-bo, Zhal-ngo and dPon-chen designated lineages in the Rgyal rigs, or those found in the later Khyung gdung rabs manuscript. All the latter depend upon the very widespread, post-eleventh century motifs supplied by gter ma historiographies written in Classical Tibetan, whether those belong to Tibetan Buddhism or g.Yung-drung Bon. These gter ma motifs claim ancient Tibetan royal origins, project explicitly religious identities, and sometimes cite various foundational lamas and yogins, all in a manner that Matthew Kapstein so aptly termed the “imaginal persistence of the Empire”234 in an era of Buddhist ideological dominance. Thus, self-portrayals of groups maintaining the cult certainly represent a distinctive political outlook and appear to preserve a more ancient set of non-Buddhist concepts. This possibility will now be examined.

Political Discourse The Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans, as well as the Mi and Ba, are all explicitly portrayed in the Lha’i gsung rabs as peoples who ‘seize’ or ‘take possession’ (Dzala rnam[s], cf. CT nom[s], mnam[s], CT [’]phrog[s] ~ dbrog) of those places

they arrive at. They are forceful pioneer settlers or invaders. There is no sign of the so-called “invitation principle” for establishing political leadership, which various scholars hold to be an older ideal circulating within the Tibetosphere.235 This absence of the invitation principle may in fact be an indicator of both the antiquity of narratives like the Lha’i gsung rabs and the social or ethnic distinctiveness of the peoples who have maintained them. While the invitation principle is intellectually appealing to us moderns, since it pivots upon choice not imposition – and thus feels more ‘democratic’ – it also reflects a post-eleventh century world of myth-making in Classical Tibetan sources which was patently not part of any official, imperial Tibetan political ideology. The ‘invitation of the ruler’ motif is thus conspicuously absent in actual Old Tibetan sources. Rather, in those records we find ’O-lde sPu-rgyal, as mythical founder and apical ancestor of the dynasty, portrayed as punishing and subjugating the petty kings of Tibet, while his most famous descendant, gNya’-khri bTsan-po, is described as simply arriving from the sky to rule without any invitation. This is also the consistent motif in all the oldest myth fragments preserved on Old Tibetan pillar and rock inscriptions – such as at ’Phyong-rgyas bridge, the tomb of Khri-lde Srong-brtsan, the Sino-Tibetan treaty pillar of 821-822 and the rock inscription near Zhwa’i lha-khang – as well as in written documents including the manuscripts PT 1038 and the Old Tibetan Chronicle. These first lha rulers from the sky just arrive and lord it over human beings, which is exactly what the stock phrasing myi’i rjer gshegs pa and variants in the texts means. This ‘arrive from the sky and take control’ motif is precisely that applied to the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru ancestors in the Lha’i gsung rabs, and it is one of the oldest known myth motifs expressing political ideas across the Tibetan Plateau and its highland peripheries. The ‘arrive from the sky and take control’ motif is significant in relation to a second body of data concerning historical migrants from southernmost Central Tibet. These migrants were the Shar Dung population of lHo-brag and environs. They migrated southwards during the mid-fourteenth century, and their descendants more commonly became known as Dung or gDung in their new Himalayan homelands to the south. Fortunately, several east Bhutanese

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gDung origin myths were preserved within the Rgyal rigs during the late seventeenth century. Their content reveals without any doubt that the historical gDung they refer to all participated in some version of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Their origin narratives are identified with ‘Bon’ sources, their apical ancestors are lha from the sky, while their cosmological references and geography of origin places is all still present in the myths and rites of living Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. The same territories over which these gDung settled and exercised control are all places where we still find the cult existing as a living phenomenon. Moreover, the gDung origin myths in the Rgyal rigs feature an identical set of motifs found in all origin narratives from local communities who participate in the cult, among them the ‘arrive from the sky and take control’ motif of the Lha’i gsung rabs. Both of the ultimate gDung progenitors are leading Srid-pa’i lha deities. Foremost is gnam lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal, while their lha embodied as a human ancestor is Gu-se Lang-ling who arrives from the sky due to ritual activity following the model of a cult festival, rather than by ‘invitation’. 236 The gDung narratives feature powerful, non-Buddhist ‘strongman’ chiefs, who, by way of their strengths and talents inherited via their lha ancestry, simply ‘gain power’ (dbang sgyur) over, and ‘act as the lord-chiefs’ (rje dpon mdzad pa) of those around them.237 Historian John Ardussi demonstrated that the surviving gDung narratives include lineage origins followed by phases of later renewal in which the ancestor then always travels southwards from southern Tibet, and specifically from areas like Yar-lung Grong-mo-che and mTsho-sna bSe-ba-mkhar, places which also occur in the origin myths of cult communities. Given these close coherences between gDung origin tales and that of the migrant clans in the Lha’i gsung rabs, as well as between the gDung’s cultural profile and features of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, it is interesting to compare the geographies of migration in both sets of migration narratives. As pointed out in a hypothesis by John Ardussi to be discussed below, the Rgyal rigs origin narratives for the Ngang gDung and U-ra gDung imply their ancestral migrations were from southernmost Central Tibet, explicitly from the southwestern valleys of lHo-brag, and down the Bumthang

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valley of eastern Bhutan. The narrative of the gZhong-sgar gDung describes a southwards migration off the Tibetan Plateau via the Nyamjang Chu valley of Mon mTsho-sna and western Tawang, which then heads south-west. The large area in between these western and eastern paths of gDung migration is not mentioned at all in the Rgyal rigs. However, that is exactly what the Lha’i gsung rabs account is describing. It deals with clan ancestors whose migrations from eastern lHo-brag and Gru-shul occur into the three parallel valleys located between Bumthang and the Nyamjang Chu, namely the upper Kholong Chu, Khoma Chu and part of the Kuri Chu valleys, while the adjacent She[r]-re (or Shel, Shel-phu) valley highlands (phu) are also included. It is as if the missing part of a larger Dung migration mosaic that we would expect to find has been filled in by the Lha’i gsung rabs. What might all the above information be indicating? My conclusion is that the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans where indeed descent groups or clans within the otherwise socially anonymous Shar Dung population. The evidence concerning both the Tibetan Plateau Dung and the Himalayan gDung of my research region will now be considered in some detail to justify this conclusion.

16.5 The Shar Dung in Southernmost Central Tibet To date, there is only one case where the presence of any pre-seventeenth century population component inhabiting the research region has been reasonably explained by documentary evidence datable to the period of the events it describes. I am referring to the small body of Tibetan historical sources mentioning peoples known generically to the Tibetans as Dung or Dung-reng(s). During the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries, these Dung were ranged right along the northern borders of proto-Bhutan. The historians Luciano Petech, Michael Aris and John Ardussi successively studied Tibetan historical sources concerning the Dung.238 Scholars have advanced quite different proposals on the ethnic identity of the Dung. When discussing the history of

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the Mon-yul Corridor, Aris ventured that “the term Dung applied to some of the Mon-pa in the 14th century and earlier”, thus implying they were a Himalayan population.239 In concert, George van Driem described Dung as an “aboriginal” people of Bhutan with the Lhop and Gongduk communities of southern Bhutan among their descendants.240 Before them, Giuseppe Tucci had assumed the Dung to be lHo-brag tribes, 241 and this is the position confirmed by Petech and Ardussi following the most thorough survey of historical sources to date. Ardussi characterised the Dung in their known southern Tibetan Plateau homelands as being: [A] somewhat scattered ‘southern’ (Ch. Lho-pa) population occupying the highlands of southcentral Tibet […] living off the land and by hunting. Branch families may have inhabited parts of Bhutan, but they were not the main body [of the population]. They defended their communities from the safety of rock forts, perhaps similar to those whose ruins are still found in Lhobrak. Based on their origin myths they may also have been ‘Bonpo’ or animist religionists.242 My own research findings set out below agree with and argument Ardussi’s view of the Dung. Already from the thirteenth century on, Dung populations of southern Central Tibet are mentioned due to their sustained raiding of neighbouring Tibetan Plateau communities in parts of gTsang, and areas of dBus as far north as ’O-yug and Shangs on the north bank of the gTsang-po River.243 On-going Dung depredations eventually prompted the Sa-skya polity into large-scale military action against these southerners. Tibetan sources discussed the Dung as being two geographically defined population units. The lHo Dung or ‘southern Dung’ were located in southernmost gTsang bordering western proto-Bhutan. The Shar Dung or ‘eastern Dung’ population was located far to the east in lHo-brag and its immediate environs. This latter group thus resided exclusively in the old g.Yo-ru ‘horn’ of imperial Tibetan administration, and the historical clan name or title g.Yo-gdung from eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor is very likely a relic of this fact. For several reasons, only this eastern Shar Dung

population will come into consideration here. For one, the Shar Dung’s main territorial base was directly adjacent to the core Himalayan distribution region of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Moreover, as we saw in previous chapters, this same Shar Dung territory is the discovery location of the old dGa’-thang manuscripts and the most likely origin place of the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript (see appx. J), as well as many other traces of an older ‘bon’-identified culture of myths and rites addressing mundane goals that can all be linked directly with the cult. To solve the problem of Dung raiding, and thereby impose full state control over southernmost Tibet up to the Himalayan watershed, Tibetan Sa-skya rulers initiated a series of military campaigns over the years 1352-54. They first attacked the Shar Dung via Nyang-stod and lHo-brag, and later the lHo Dung via Phag-ri. The Shar Dung eventually suffered a total defeat. This involved destruction of all their ‘secure strongholds’ (mkhar btsan sa) throughout lHo-brag, and loss of control of their peoples and possessions. Some groups of defeated Dung became resettled under Tibetan administration, apparently in Nyang-stod. To address an outstanding problem in understanding the ethnolinguistic history of the region, namely, establishing the identities of, and possible connections between various populations termed Dung or gDung in both Central Tibet and parts of Bhutan, John Ardussi proposed that not all of the defeated Shar Dung capitulated: [I]t seems evident that a portion of the Shar Dung chiefs and their families, perhaps the majority, did not submit at the time. My theory is that they must have fled south and east to escape the Sakya troops, in rather substantial numbers, becoming the ancestors of the Gdung lineages of Ura and Ngang, and in the Tshona or Tawang area of Mon Yul.244 A detail in the contemporary Tibetan historical records lends credibility to Ardussi’s proposal. When facing certain defeat, the Shar Dung ‘chieftain’ (’go or dpon),245 Don-grub-dar, parleyed and entered into a binding agreement with one of the victorious Sa-skya commanders. It was agreed that during a one-month pause, Don-grub-dar would assemble all

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Shar Dung peoples under him for their formal submission to the Tibetans.246 The Tibetans honoured the agreement. This grace period would have easily allowed any groups of Shar Dung wanting to avoid submission to make journeys southwards from their settlements into the nearby Himalayan valleys. As will be seen, my own research results strongly reinforce Ardussi’s proposal of a southward Shar Dung exile in the areas he has suggested. The Dung already feature in various discussions concerning the ethnolinguistic profile of Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor.247 The Himalayan legacy claimed by scholars for the Dung includes the presence of a localised, premodern elite of lineages or families named or titled gDung whose origin myths are those recorded in the Rgyal rigs, also an explanation for the distribution of some East Bodish languages, as well as toponyms and other names marking traces of Dung historical presence. Considering a wide range of evidence below, much of it indicative rather than conclusively proven in historical terms, I propose another Himalayan legacy of the Dung. The migrant Shar Dung and their descendants were carriers of cultural patterns that played a decisive role in establishing key aspects of the Srid-pa’i lha cult in the eastern Himalayan valleys where we find it today. In the following sections, I will explore this hypothesis initially using evidence related to the Shar Dung resident on the southernmost Tibetan Plateau. This includes their territorial extent, the most likely routes for their arrival into the Himalayas, traces of their identity in toponyms and myth motifs, their possible ‘bon’-identified culture, their likely linguistic status, and their ethnic and historical background. Secondly, I turn to evidence of Dung traces and presence in the Himalayan valleys, but specifically the evidence occurring within the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself.

the Tibetan sources. The named ‘eastern’ (shar) and ‘southern’ (lho) Dung groups were geographically logical from a Tibetan perspective, and, for all we know, may merely represent an artefact of Tibetan military commanders’ strategic thinking and campaign planning against specific Dung chiefs and territories. It must also be recognised that both these geographically defined Dung groups lived scattered across a zone of rugged highlands spread over some 250 kilometres from east to west. The respective territories of the lHo Dung and the Shar Dung were also divided by a formidable natural barrier, namely, the sKu-bla Gangs-ri massif (7554 metres) and its outliers. For all these reasons, it seems appropriate to treat the Shar Dung as a socially discreet population, and one not necessarily closely related to the lHo Dung during the period we are discussing – although this does not rule out certain relations between them. The Shar Dung’s known territorial spread was directly adjacent to a geographically exceptional section of the eastern Himalayan ranges. That section features two of the four major river systems that f low directly from Tibetan Plateau highland catchments transversely through the main Himalaya chain from north to south (i.e., the Kuri Chu, Nyamjang Chu, Subansiri and Brahmaputra Rivers). Wherever such major transverse rivers occur along the eastern Himalayas, we find the most long-term and significant examples of social flows and cultural exchanges occurring between inhabitants of the Tibetan Plateau and the Himalayan highlands.248 The ecological determination of certain historical developments, such as occurrence of migrations and resettlements, major trade routes, language transformation via contact, and hybrid cultural formations in such regions should not be underestimated. The Srid-pa’i lha cult, along with the East Bodish languages most of its participants speak, are to be viewed as typical examples of such a context.

Shar Dung Territory and Access to the Himalayas While the Dung-reng were branded a common enemy under a single epithet by the Tibetan state, we have no way of knowing what, if any, social, cultural and political links the Shar Dung and lHo Dung groups may have had with each other. There are certainly no such links described in any of

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Contemporary Tibetan accounts specified that the Shar Dung of the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries lived in ‘eastern lHo-brag’ (lHo-brag Shar) and identified the topography over which their strongholds were found. That region was generically defined in the Tibetan sources as the three river valley headwaters (chu skyed lung gsum)

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

and four ranges (gya ba bzhi) of lHo-brag, including the highlands of ’A-lungs sKyogs-mo and lowlands of Tsag-sa Wa-bzhugs.249 The three river valley headwaters in question here, from west to east, are the Longdo Chu, lHo-brag Chu and lHo-brag Shar Chu that constitute the three upland tributaries of the Kuri Chu, the major transverse river that cuts through the Himalayan range south of their conf luences. Furthermore, Shar Dung territory almost certainly extended to gTam-shul along the northern reaches of the lHo-brag Shar Chu, and gTam-shul was considered to be a sub-division of lHo-brag around that time.250 It would have also extended into Gru-shul along the eastern margins of lHo-brag. In 1281, the Mongols had already stationed a special garrison at Gri-gu to the east of gTam-shul and north of Gru-shul in order to check any advances by the ‘southern clans’, while the same measures were also undertaken in the Yar-’brog-stod highlands, north of lHo-brag.251 This places the Shar Dung’s region of settlement and activity directly adjacent to, and north of, the four main parallel river valley systems of today’s north-eastern Bhutan, and a fifth river valley in the north-western Mon-yul Corridor. Considered together, not only does each of these five Himalayan valleys represent a historical route for travel between lHo-brag and north-eastern Bhutan, but each also features a strong presence of long-established Srid-pa’i lha cult communities. The five historical valley travel routes are as follows:

into the sPang-chen and La-’og Yul-gsum areas of the northern Mon-yul Corridor.

1. The route from western lHo-brag (i.e., old Sras) via the Longdo Chu valley along the southern flanks of the sKu-lha Gangs-ri massif, across the Mon La Kha-chung pass into the river systems flowing southwards to the Bumthang valleys. 2. The route into Kurtö downstream from the confluence of the lHo-brag Chu and lHo-brag Shar Chu rivers at mThingmkhar, and further down the Kuri Chu river course. 3. The route from the lHo-brag Shar Chu valley via the La Mo, Bod La and Geng La passes into the headwaters of the Khoma Chu valley at Seng-ge rDzong, and down the Khoma Chu river course. 4. The route from the lHo-brag Shar Chu valley, via Grushul and south over the Cho La or Me La passes into the Kholong Chu river valley down to Bumdeling. 5. The route from the lHo-brag Shar Chu valley eastwards via Gru-shul to the Nyamjang Chu river valley, then south

Thus, the Shar Dung territory on the Tibetan Plateau was completely contiguous with, and well-connected to each northern Himalayan valley into which the available origin narratives - for gDung lineages in the Rgyal rigs, and for Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans in the Lha’i gsung rabs - all directly trace or imply their southward arrivals via lHo-brag and its eastern environs. The question of where the newly arrived Shar Dung settled and then began to spread is taken up in the section below on Himalayan gDung.

From the Nyamjang Chu valley, the sGrib La pass connects it directly with the Kholong Chu valley to the west, and from there both the sPang La and Sib-sib La passes lead further west to the Khoma Chu catchment. Of these five main premodern routes, those with high pass crossings numbered 1, 3 and 4 above, were not easily or at all usable during mid-winter due to snows. Those numbered 2 and 5, involving river crossings and paths along steep riverbanks and defiles, were not generally passable during the peak of the spring thaw and throughout the monsoon season when river waters were too high. Thus, the main routes used for any Shar Dung exodus southwards into the Himalayas would have been determined by seasonal conditions, with the autumn or post-monsoon period being the optimal time for travel on all routes. While we do not know which times of year the Shar Dung suffered their main military setbacks and final defeat during the mid-1350s, we can be completely confident that they had a range of alternative routes for southward departures from their territory (map 9), which would have served them during all seasons as need be. Furthermore, the initial distances they would have been required to travel into a northern Himalayan valley exile were very modest, even by premodern standards.

Older Tibetan Traces of the Dung The Shar Dung, and Dung-reng in general, did not suddenly appear out of nowhere during the late thirteenth century. Tibetan historians emphatically stated that while

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YAMDROK

T

I

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Srid-pa’i lha cult site modern borders (approximate only)

TAMSHUL

hu

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pass route

Cho La

a ch u

O T O U T A N

K h om

P R B H

Pang La

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M O N T S O N A

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é Map 9. Historical Shar Dung territory and probable southward routes for their arrival in proto-Bhutan and the northern Mon-yul Corridor.

all dBus, gTsang and Khams came under full political control of the Sa-skya polity of the day, the southern lHo Mon lands were definitely not under their control, but rather constituted a stateless region across which the Dung had freedom to act as they pleased until the mid-1350s. 252 This certainly indicates a pre-existing territorial range of the Dung. Beyond historical documents for the thirteenthand fourteenth century era, the much earlier presence of a population named Dung in southernmost Central Tibet is also indicated by toponyms and strongly suggested by specific myth motifs.

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probable Shar Dung arrival routes

Gathang Bumpache

Kula Kangri

Mon La Khachung

Shar Dung territory

DRIGU

Toponyms It has long been a most common Tibetan practice to label local populations in relation to place or territory names, while we also know that toponyms frequently preserve ancestral identities. 253 Thus, investigating older toponymic traces of Dung names is highly relevant. The Old Tibetan toponym Dungs is mentioned repeatedly in the Old Tibetan Annals for the years 673-674, 717 and 720-721, and appears to have been an area encompassing different sites of imperial significance. Those named sTag-tshal and mKha’-bu were venues for imperial councils staged at Dungs, while the former site also served as the emperor’s summer residence. 254 Thus, Dungs was no insignificant area at the time. It must be understood as one of several

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transient centres of Tibetan imperial power due to the presence of the btsan po and his court there in accord with the political reality of the mobile capital (pho brang). In his masterful surveys of imperial-era Tibetan toponymy, Guntram Hazod considered that Dungs was probably located in far eastern gTsang, somewhere south-west of the Yar-’brog mTsho lake, and around the area at which the old regions of Myang-stod (or Nyang-stod) and lHo-brag bordered one another. 255 Thus, this Dungs would indeed have been in the vicinity of the southern Central Tibetan highlands region within which the Shar Dung populations dwelt or were active according to later Tibetan sources. Hazod has also registered a range of other Dung-identified toponyms for southernmost Tibetan Plateau areas. Many such toponyms that more specifically resemble records of Dung social identities, rather than commonly occurring Buddhist-era ‘conch’ (dung) descriptions applied to topography, have been registered around both the western part of Mon mTsho-sna and right across lHo-brag. 256 This is exactly where we would expect them to occur in such a concentration, given what we know about the Shar Dung’s old historical territories, and they no doubt mark traces of that people and their realm. Furthermore, old ritual antecedent narratives portraying the activities of archetypal gshen and bon ritual specialists frequently reused ancient polity, place and clan names or ethnonyms as a flexible literary framing device. As was demonstrated in the previous chapter, a well-known series of names for clan-based territorial units or ‘minor kingdoms’ (rgyal phran) – which apparently existed in the preimperial era – were also recycled into some later examples of Tibetan language ritual literature. Yet, the selections of these names used in Old Tibetan ritual antecedent tales or in the Old Tibetan Chronicle are different from those used in the later texts. For example, there are no Dung names among the older corpus of texts written down in the desert oases of north-west Gansu. However, a set of Dung names do occur in closely cognate tales known from the dGa’-thang manuscripts composed at or around gTam-shul in former Shar Dung territory. Those dGa’-thang texts patently draw upon Old Tibetan precedents when deploying the mythologised ‘minor kingdoms’ catalogues (fig. 27), but

they repeatedly include a ‘Dung land’ – variously Dung-yul, Dung-gyi-yul and Dung-yul Dung-stod – as a tale setting. 257 They also refer to a Dung-mtsho or ‘Dung lake’ to be discussed below. When viewed in the context of all the other evidence of Dung presence in this same area, these ca. eleventh century Dung toponyms in antecedent tales composed in this region were almost certainly recording local references to ancestral Dung. These references make it likely that some Dung social group was involved in composing or using these ritual texts. To fully appreciate these records, they must also be viewed in relation to a broader presence of Dung references in older myths, particularly those that relate to a set of primordial persons and social relations, as well as to origin places.

Myth Motifs We still do not know whether the name Dung represented the group autonym of those peoples so-named, or an epithet as opposed to a lineage name – as has been suggested 258 – or an ethnonym applied by outsiders. The evidence indicates that all three possibilities may have been true at different periods of time and in various sources. Concerning the name itself, Michael Aris made two proposals. The first was that Tibetan chroniclers who recorded the name Dung used a phonetic form of the word gdung meaning ‘bones’, ‘family’, ‘progeny’, ‘lineage’, and so forth, although they omitted the ga prefix. Aris ventured that this change might explain why the name is often – although not always – written gDung in later sources composed in the Himalayas. His second and related proposal was that this latter gDung spelling carries “associations with ancient descent” and “origins”. John Ardussi implied the same point in an earlier study. 259 Aris’ first suggestion regarding the spelling appears invalid. This is because Old Tibetan and very early Classical Tibetan Dung(s) forms without the ga prefix were so consistently recorded in old toponyms and in myths from southernmost Tibetan Plateau areas by Tibetan writers and early writers from proto-Bhutan. Moreover, the gdung orthography with meanings related to descent has been fixed since the period of the earliest Old Tibetan sources. The gDung spelling for social groups appears

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rather to reflect a milieu of learned Bhutanese Buddhist authors of a later period. I do nevertheless agree with Aris on his second point, and consider that the proper name written Dung reflects a semi-mythical identity, or the connotation associated with such an identity, and points to some much older ancestral population(s) behind it. This appears attested in a whole range of early and obscure myths related to mundane rites and cosmological representations occurring in texts and contexts that are essentially nonreligious. Such sources contain three types of motifs: first beings who are Dung, Dung origin lakes, and Dung as primordial wife-givers.

make a ‘white dung-lake’ (dung mtsho dkar mo), while the fine membrane between them gives rise to the six types of sentient beings. Then, eighteen bits of coagulated egg matter (phrum) form, the middle one of which produces above it a single egg of dung, and that is the primordial human, Mi-bo Lum-lum.263 This name or description is again typically ‘fluid-based’ since lum lum is the adjective used to describe the dynamic state of fluids bubbling, boiling, leaking, flowing over and so on, as they emerge from a container, opening or origin point.

Dung Origin Lakes Dung as First Beings Primordial ‘Dung’ identities recur in a corpus of older Tibetan cosmological and genealogical myths that ref lect non-Buddhist folk concepts and narratives. The meaning of the word dung in such contexts is seldom unambiguous, and thus best not prejudged or taken too literally in terms of conventional ideas. Dung may refer to the substance ‘conch’, and while white is the fundamental colour of all sky lha and everything related to them, the myths concerned give us no explicit comparisons (’dra). As Erik Haarh rightly considered, this ‘conch’ meaning “can be made the subject of wellfounded doubt”, and both he and Michael Aris read dung in these cosmological and anthropogenic myths as referring to ‘origins’ and the ‘primordial’.260 I concur with them. A recurring motif in these old narratives is of first ‘protohuman’ or ‘humanoid’ beings who are identified as dung or Dung. In the old Phywa genealogies, the first being who appears as ‘one who is born’ (skyes pa) is described as ‘a white male human who is dung’ (dung gi mi pho dkar po). 261 He comes into existence from the midst of a cloud, once again reiterating the core symbolism of water or fluid – as clouds (sprin), steam/vapour (rlangs), spittle (mchil ma), dew drops (zil pa), rain (char), lakes (mtsho) and rivers (chu bo) – as the origin medium which recurs in all myths related to the Srid-pa’i lha cult.262 In another old anthropogenic narrative, a large egg arises from the five elements, the exterior shell of which forms the white lha rocks, its internal fluids

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The second motif is, as we saw above, that primordial topographical features are also identified as dung, and by extension even a mythical country, such as the Dung-yul from the dGa’-thang manuscripts. The primordial lake Dung-mtsho dKar-mo or Shar Dung-mtsho dKar-mo is by far the central topos of this motif, and yet again represents a f luidbased notion of origins. The mythical name Dung-mtsho dKar-mo actually first appears in both the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript and the dGa’-thang manuscripts, and thus we have a fixed geographical zone in southernmost Central Tibet and timeframe of the ca. eleventh century for the name. The Dung-mtsho motif then became mobile. It initially occurs in local landscape representations from lHo-brag, but is later found across eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor. All this speaks of a Shar Dung origin for the motif and that it subsequently travelled southwards with them during their later migration. In older narratives incorporated into works from the thirteenth century onwards, the Dung-mtsho dKar-mo is also called lDang-rgyan Dung-mtsho, and lHo [g]Dung-mtsho sKar-ma-thang, or just [g]Dung-mtsho. It became one of the most important non-Buddhist mythological toponyms in north-east Bhutan and parts of the Mon-yul Corridor, in precisely the highland valleys into which the Shar Dung must have descended when first departing the Tibetan Plateau. This name, along with the Brag-dkar or primordial ‘white rock/rock cliff’ reference, keeps reappearing in narratives, ritual texts, toponyms and oral traditions about origins everywhere we find that the cult of Srid-pa’i lha has spread.

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In 1507, Padma Gling-pa mentioned passing a lake named gDung-mtsho Karma-thang, or ‘Origin Lake Action Plain’, some thirteen days march from Bumthang towards the southern Mon-yul Corridor, and two days travel from his destination of Shar Dong-kha (i.e., Dom-kha).264 The seventeenth century records of the gDung genealogies in the Rgyal rigs feature a gDung-mtsho sKar-ma-thang, ‘Origin Lake Star Plain’, as the earthly point of human gDung lineage re-emergence after the divine ancestor Gu-se Langling descends there from the sky and miraculously impregnates a married woman upon its shores. The spelling and thus meaning change in the name is significant in terms of which ethnolinguistic groups the story probably belongs to. In the Rgyal rigs tale, the lake quickly changes its identity from gDung-mtsho sKar-ma-thang to Mu-ku-lung mTsho-mo. Mu-ku-lung is a Dzala or Dakpa place name meaning ‘Land/Valley of the Mu’ (ku is a Dzala/Dakpa genitive), and it links the rMu’i yul sky origin of Gu-se Lang-ling in the myth to the terrestrial site of his re-emergence. 265 Many oral traditions around the research region mention this lake as the origin place of the Dung peoples, but also, tellingly, more specifically of the origins of the Dakpa people. 266 Verbal ritual journeys still chanted by bon shamans in eastern Bhutan to invite and escort the lha down to earth sometimes have the [g]Dung-mtsho as an itinerary point or even destination. The itineraries of such ritual journeys chanted as far off as Bumthang do list place name sequences leading eastward into the upper Kholong Chu valley to reach a gDung-mtsho. One lake sonamed is indeed localised in the headwaters region of the Kholong Chu by Dzala speakers today.267 There are multiple [g]Dung-mtsho named lakes across the region, and historically they probably represent places the migrant Shar Dung and their descendants spread to and settled at or near. They must be appreciated together with other [g]Dung-marked toponyms and social identities. Various communities and indigenous scholars understandably seek to identify such lakes within their own local topography as being the ‘original’ [g]Dung-mtsho, and thus the name has become the subject of competing claims.

Primordial Wife-Givers A third related motif in older myths represents the Dung as primordial wife-givers. It is dung which defines the dMu matriline. When the archetypal marriage between the Phywa and dMu beings takes place, the Phywa son sPyi-gtsug rGyal-ba takes Dung-za rNgu-mo as his wife, and they begat Phywa sTag-cha ’Al-’ol who then fathers the four well-known Srid-pa’i lha brothers, including lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal who stands at the very centre of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. This motif is repeated in most relevant sources, while a possible precedent for it is found in an Old Tibetan document.268 A second mythical Dung identity connected with the dMu matriline is found in the origin narrative of the sky-descended gshen named gCo (also Co, Co-mi, gCo-mi, gCo’u, gCo’u-mi), who is gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s maternal cousin via their dMu mother, and one of the progenitor emperor’s personal ritual specialists (fig. 2). 269 Unlike the other two motifs, this Dung as primordial wife-givers motif cannot be geographically fixed due to lack of provenance information for most of the documents in which it occurs. In sum, there are old and repeated connotations of dung or Dung in the above cited narratives implying not only something essential about life’s primordial and ancestral origins, but also the first reference point for its later continuation. This dual character of origin and continuity is of course what all the myths aetiologically demonstrate: the two-fold sense of something both foundational and continuous is found in the complex of meanings for the word gdung and its compounds. Thus, Dung, considered as an autonym, epithet or ethnonym related to these myth motifs implies the Shar Dung would have viewed themselves – and been viewed by their Tibetan neighbours – as an ‘original’ or ‘primordial’ people, or the ‘descendants’ (gdung) thereof. A similar meaning for [g]Dung or Dung-nag as an ‘aboriginal’ population has long been associated with the small Lhokpu society in south-west Bhutan by their Dzongkha speaking neighbours. 270 We have to seriously consider that there is every likelihood historical peoples from the post-eleventh century era in southern Central Tibet have invoked Dung names and dung references in relation to cultural memories

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of some much earlier population whom they viewed as ancient ancestors of one kind or another.

The Dung and ‘bon’ There is no direct, contemporary Tibetan historical source indicating that the Dung were associated with the name ‘Bon’ or term ‘bon’. Nevertheless, a range of indirect indicators strongly suggest a specific ‘bon’ profile for the Shar Dung when settled within their historical southernmost Tibetan Plateau territory, while at the same time ruling out any formal g.Yung-drung Bon religious identity. We do have very strong indications of what a ‘Bon’ identity would have meant for the Shar Dung within their territory of eastern lHo-brag, gTam-shul and Gru-shul during the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries and much earlier. The ritual texts in the dGa’-thang manuscripts from gTam-shul, and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript from the same general region, all date well before the Shar Dung defeat and exile. They reveal that a ritual culture one can define with qualifications as being ‘bon’-identified, and that would have consisted of a range of ‘crisis management’ rites relevant only to mundane goals and performed by autonomous ritual specialists designated variously as bon [po], gshen, ya ngal and mtshe mi, existed with certainty in this same region. It is well to recall here that ritual cultures with the same characteristics survived until the modern era specifically around the peripheries of the old Shar Dung territory. We have concrete records spanning four centuries of a hereditary lineage of sku gshen specialists serving the lHa-rgya-ri royal family of E-yul just to the north-east of the Dung’s historical territory.271 Just to the south of the Dung’s historical territory, we find the living traditions of bon shamans of the Srid-pa’i lha cult that certainly are centuries old, and much of the formal content of which can be proven to originate in the lHo-brag area of the Shar Dung. Furthermore, if the mundane rites of the Shar Dung were ‘bon’-identified in terms of this type of ritual culture, it would well explain a curious line occurring near the start of the presentation of so-called g.Yu-rung Bon in the Bshad mdzod encyclopaedia. That text, too, was composed in an area around the south-eastern margins of the Shar Dung’s

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former territory, namely at Gru-shul, during the 1400s, and thus not too long after the Shar Dung defeat and exile. In his account, the author of the Bshad mdzod reflected that: As for the spread of Bon, it spread in Central Tibet. As for the decline of Bon, it declined in the land of Mon.272 It appears the author believed, at the time he wrote, that the ‘Bon teachings’ he understood as focussed upon autonomous ritual specialists and the types of rites we find later in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, had been eclipsed or ceased in his own home region. He would have written this statement around a century or so following the Shar Dung’s southern exile into the Himalayan valleys. His statement would thus refer to a particular ‘Bon’ cultural vacuum left behind in the wake of the departed Shar Dung. A final interesting clue within the Bshad mdzod account is the name its author gives to one of the five types of Bon he identified, and mentioned above in chapter 14. It is an unusual name that seems to point to both the Dung and a major ritual concern evident in those dGa’thang texts which are of most relevance in terms of being a likely precursor ritual culture behind some of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. The fourth of the five types is named Dri-shes Dunggi Bon, which can be translated as ‘Knowledge of Dri, Bon of the Dung’. The knowledge of dri cited here probably relates to rites concerned with dri spirits such as rnel dri techniques described in chapter 15, the oldest known records of which occur in the dGa’-thang manuscripts discovered just a day or two’s walk from the Bshad mdzod author’s home place. All of the above evidence convincingly defines the presence, then absence and later peripheral survivals and transmissions of the Shar Dung’s older ‘bon’-identified cultural heritage in this southernmost corner of the Central Tibetan Plateau and adjacent high Himalayan zone. There is also ‘negative evidence’ available indicating the Shar Dung would not have been associated in any way with the g.Yung-drung Bon salvation religion. This is confirmed by a complete lack of historical presence of the religion in their territories, as discussed in chapter 14, as well as by Tibetan attitudes towards them in general. As a named population

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who were in stark political and military opposition to control by a Tibetan Buddhist polity of the day, the Dung, as hypothetical followers of organised g.Yung-drung Bon, would surely have been demonised by Buddhist chronicle writers as being ‘heretic Bon’ opponents and the like. This prejudice was inserted frequently into Tibetan sources representing a Buddhist perspective whenever they discussed outsiders, or those who did not simply submit to their rule, if they were in any way associated with g.Yung-drung Bon. Rather, it was the case that Tibetans referred to their Dung adversaries adjectivally as the Dung-reng or Dung-rengs,273 while the form Dung-rang occurs in Himalayan documents which are roughly contemporary with the Tibetan sources (see below). Classical Tibetan reng[s] po means ‘obstinate’, ‘unwilling’ and ‘loner’, while cognate rang[s] po can mean ‘independent’ and ‘rough/coarse’. Thus, Tibetans certainly labelled the Dung as being tough opponents of mainstream state power holders who lived beyond its control, yet not as a group who were obnoxious to Buddhist sectarian sensibilities, or who were assessed as being ‘beyond the pale’ (mtha’ ’khob) in civilisational terms according to normative, premodern Tibetan Buddhist religio-political discourse. This latter judgement the Tibetans reserved particularly for non-Tibetanised dwellers of the Himalayan valleys immediately south of the Dung, who were systematically allotted the pejorative markers Mon and Klo. 274 What this all suggests is a culturally more neutral Tibetan attitude towards the Dung, such as one might somewhat respectfully allow for an awareness of conservative ancestors who were quite different from oneself. Both Michael Aris and John Ardussi retrospectively linked the Tibetan Dung, as ancestors of later Himalayan gDung lineages, with a ‘Bon’ identity due to the character of references within the gDung origin narratives recorded in the Rgyal rigs. 275 While such seventeenth century references may be too remote from the Shar Dung of lHo-brag during the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries to serve as credible referents, what they referred to at the time needs to be clarified. Both Aris and Ardussi will have recognised this type of myth involving identities such as the gnam lha ’O-de Gungrgyal as being ‘bon’-identified in the sense of sharing many common references with the various [bs]Grags-pa Bonlugs and gSang-ba Bon-lugs Classical Tibetan narratives

redacted by Buddhist authors from the time of Nyang-ral onwards. 276 Yet, it must be understood there are often no compelling references or internal transparency indicating why Buddhist redactors assigned any ‘Bon’ identity to such narratives. In certain cases, we know it was merely a rhetorical device to distinguish one type of ‘non-Buddhist’ story about the progenitor emperor from alternative ‘Buddhist’ origin stories that Buddhist authors themselves were transmitting or promoting. More specifically, the author/compiler of the Rgyal rigs cited a ‘treasure writing (yig gter) of Bon Thang-la ’Od-dkar’277 as one of his sources for reporting the gDung origin narratives. Exactly what this phrase might refer to has proved vexing. During my research, I managed to photographically record some one hundred local manuscripts used for the cult of the Srid-pa’i lha, and read, translated or briefly scrutinised at least a thousand pages from them. Absolutely no references to treasure texts and their treasure revealers are to be found in any of these manuscripts, nor in the living oral tradition. This total absence of reference to the religious treasure tradition is a critical marker for classifying the cult as fundamentally unrelated to g.Yung-drung Bon. Similarly, we have no other historical or narrative records describing activities by g.Yung-drung Bon religious treasure revealers throughout the research region. Furthermore, the name Bon Thangla ’Od-dkar is completely unknown in my data, as well as to the best of my knowledge in any existing studies of g.Yungdrung Bon or ‘bon’-identified ritual texts. If anything, the name resembles purely mythical identities (and name elements) for auxiliary beings and archetypal ritual specialists found in local ritual texts and oral traditions, such as gShen-lha ’Od-dkar, gShen-lha Thod-dkar, Thang-lha, and so forth. It is well to recall here that Ngag-dbang, author/ compiler of the Rgyal rigs, was a Buddhist cleric for whom treasure texts represented a literary genre for transmitting religious and historiographical information. Moreover, Ngag-dbang appears to have hailed from the Tshangla speaking area of bKra-shis-sgang in far eastern Bhutan, for which we have no record, past or present, of the existence of the cult of Srid-pa’i lha, nor of the clans and lineages with whom the cult is most closely associated. Ngag-dbang himself was from the Byar clan that has no known connections

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of any kind to the cult. While not completely dismissing Ngag-dbang’s passing reference to the ‘treasure writing of Bon Thang-la ’Od-dkar’, which would have referred to some form of written document, we should remain rather sceptical about what it might have actually represented in context described as a yig gter from his pen in that place and time.

Hypothetical Shar Dung Language(s) The question of what language(s) the Dung peoples, and specifically the Shar Dung, spoke has been raised repeatedly in scholarly literature discussing this population. It features in previous hypotheses related to the identity of the Dung and the speakers of East Bodish languages. Compared with questions about the Shar Dung’s historical territory, identity and ritual culture discussed above, we have no direct evidence and far fewer indirect indices concerning language with which to move beyond pure speculation. Nevertheless, discussions about the Dung have already been articulated with linguistic distributions and characteristics within the region. Michael Aris and John Ardussi both considered that the eastern or Shar Dung must have been speakers of several East Bodish languages or dialects.278 A later hypothesis by Tim Bodt identified Dung exiles in the Himalayas with speakers of some archaic Tibetic language(s) that would have been forerunners of Chocha-ngacha now spoken in the mid-Kuri Chu valley and at points eastwards, and of Brokpaké now spoken in some highlands surrounding the Mon-yul Corridor. 279 All these proposals attempt to offer neat historical solutions to explain complex, modern linguistic data, yet they simultaneously raise a host of difficult, additional questions and further uncertainties requiring far more evidence for them to become credible. 280 Moreover, a set of circumstantial evidence associated with the Dung living on the Tibetan Plateau and the nature of East Bodish languages in the north of the group’s range indicate a less exotic linguistic heritage. We have various reasons to consider the Shar Dung spoke a southern Tibetic language the same as all their Tibetan Plateau neighbours living to their east, north and west,

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most likely a Lhoka or Lhodrak dialect of Tibetan. It is attested that the East Bodish languages spoken along the northern Himalayan valleys, namely Bumthap, Kurtöp, Dzala and Dakpa, do show considerable evidence of influence and borrowing from Tibetan, 281 while in general the East Bodish grouping is characterised by authorities on Tibetic languages as being “closest cousins of the Tibetic group” in phylogenetic terms. 282 Moreover, reconstructions for proto-East Bodish agricultural vocabulary reveal a marked tendency towards typical highland grain and dairy production as one finds in the former southern lHobrag territory of the Shar Dung.283 The linguistic situation on the ground today along the northern Himalayan valleys in this region could in part reflect a southward historical migration of Tibetic speakers who then resettled among some East Bodish speaking communities. It is also highly likely that at least some Shar Dung individuals, such as ritual specialists, were literate in a form of early Classical Tibetan influenced by Old Tibetan. We surmise this from the existence of the ca. eleventh century documents with this hybrid background, such as the dGa’-thang and Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts, occurring within former Shar Dung historical territory prior to their exile. As has been demonstrated throughout this study, the written language, cosmological framing, myth motifs and rite techniques of most bon shaman manuscripts strongly reflect these sources on mundane myths and rites known from southernmost Tibet and spanning the period of these ca. eleventh century manuscripts until around the fifteenth century. Some bon shaman manuscripts are also hybrids of Classical Tibetan with the same East Bodish languages of the northern zone – Bumthap, Kurtöp, Dzala and Dakpa – whose speakers the Shar Dung would have first come into contact, and mostly settled among, as all the evidence in following sections demonstrates. These same East Bodish languages are also those with the most evidence of influence and borrowing from Tibetan. The above proposals should in no way rule out the possibility that the Shar Dung were a bilingual or multilingual community. Such communities are more the rule than the exception right along the interface zone between the eastern Himalayan highlands and the Tibetan Plateau. Additional

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Shar Dung languages would most likely have included one or more East Bodish languages or dialects used immediately south of their former Tibetan Plateau territories. The Shar Dung population dwelt throughout a zone of intensive, north-south ecological transitions between dry highland steppe and deep, forested river valleys that were seasonally passable, while at the same time we know they were poorly integrated within the broader social and political landscape of historical Tibet and Tibetic speakers surrounding them to the north, west and east prior to their conquest and exile. Thus, we would reasonably expect the Shar Dung to also have known the languages of immediate neighbours to the south, and perhaps to also have been long-term speakers of such languages. Modern examples of this type of frontier bilingualism including Tibetic languages or dialects from the southernmost Tibetan Plateau and a neighbouring Himalayan highland language are everywhere to be found across the same region. For instance, I encountered elderly Dzala speakers of the upper Khoma Chu valley speaking passable Lhodrak dialect of Tibetan due to their premodern trade contacts with their northern neighbours. I also met elderly Na and Bokar persons of northern-central Arunachal Pradesh who speak several Himalayan languages but who are also knowledgeable in Kongpo dialect of Tibetan due to having lived and moved using a north-south, ‘trans-border’ lifestyle prior to – and in the case of Na, also subsequent to – the 1962 Sino-Indian conflict.284 As John Ardussi already mooted, it is quite probable that some Shar Dung even lived in the upper reaches of the northernmost Himalayan valleys extending up into lHo-brag, and the likelihood of closer social and economic contacts would have been high. A final consideration on hypothetical Dung languages is that Tibetans of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries allotted an ethnonym or epithet to the Dung which has three specific characteristics. It was exclusive to them alone, was subject to a series of meaningful modifications (e.g., Dung-reng[s], Shar Dung and lHo Dung), and was consistently applied only within the known limits of Dung settlement and activity. This very specific and nuanced Dung identity sets these peoples apart from diverse populations ranged right along the interface zone between Himalayan

highlands and Tibetan Plateau and for whom Tibetans have consistently used generic cultural identities, such as Mon and Klo, that were not strongly geographically circumscribed. Mon and Klo identities are frequently linked with the fact of linguistic difference in the available Tibetan documents. Tibetan historical sources often mention Mon and Klo identified peoples with side remarks about them speaking languages generically called Mon-skad and Klo-skad that are unintelligible to Plateau Tibetans who speak Tibetic languages, or they mention the presence of translators at negotiations and encounters with them. This never occurs in sources related to the Dung. Once again, this is a further indicator that the Dung likely spoke a Tibetic language, regardless of any other languages they may have known among themselves or used with neighbours to the south.

The Dung as Post-Imperial Tibetan Conservatives To end his pioneering study of Tibetan sources about the Dung-reng, Luciano Petech posed the obvious question for which he had no answer at the time: “Who were the Du ṅ re ṅ? An ethnic unit or a composite group of marauding clans?” 285 I consider both of Petech’s alternatives here appropriate to describe the Dung; one need not exclude the other. The contemporary Tibetan references to Dung clearly defined them in three ways, namely socially, ethnically and politically. Tibetans referred to these scattered populations of the first centuries of the second millennium as being ‘southern clans/descent lineages’ (lho [b]rgyud) who were the Dung. This describes a territorialised composite of hereditary social units recognised under a common ethnonym or ethnonymic-epithet. Moreover, when styled as Dung-reng(s) or Dung-rang(s) they were also being characterised politically as an ‘obstinate’ or ‘unwilling’ and a ‘loner’ or ‘independent’ (CT rang[s] po ~ reng[s] po) grouping. All the different traces of, and indications about the Dung and their territory surveyed above tell us they must have had a long presence upon the southernmost Tibetan Plateau, possessed sophisticated ‘bon’-identified cultural practices, and highly likely spoke a Tibetic language. Thus, the Dung appear to have been some kind of ‘Tibetans’ by most common measures, albeit of a very marginal and most

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conservative ilk. Which historical Tibetan Plateau dwellers could this possibly have referred to during and prior to the era in question? Our best explanation for all we presently know about the Dung is as follows. They were a residual grouping of socially and politically unreformed ‘descendants’ (CT gdung) of more ancient Tibetan Plateau clans or lineages, some of whom had once played a role within the imperial system, and others whose roots were among proto-‘Tibetan’ populations absorbed into the empire from its conquered imperial margins. Clan and social identities highly relevant to this description could easily have included marginal factions of the Khu, [b]Se-ru, gNam-sa and perhaps lHo described in the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative. Clans or lineages comprising the Dung collective are best explained as remnant groups whose status and fortunes declined already during the imperial era, or perhaps shortly thereafter. We have clear historical evidence that high-ranking members of both Khu and lHo clans were disgraced within the imperial system already during the early eighth century, and had their wealth confiscated as punishment. 286 Such clans, or factions of them, some probably already demoted and disadvantaged, may have never recovered after the messy collapse of the Tibetan empire. They could easily have been displaced or elected to migrate further southwards during post-imperial civil conflicts – albeit that some of them, such as the lHo clan, already appear to have had their own older territories along the southernmost Tibetan Plateau–Himalayan highland interface at the time. While being ‘native’ Tibetan Plateau dwellers in terms of their settlement locations, life ways, and what we think were most likely their language and domestic rites, there is no doubt the Shar Dung were completely outside of the prevailing Tibetan socio-political and cultural mainstream prior to their conquest and exile. They were unaffected by the large-scale processes of transformation which began generating the historical Tibetan Buddhist societies and polities of this part of the Plateau during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Being untransformed and outside of this increasingly homogenised mainstream would have meant maintaining older social and cultural patterns, such as

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those we know to have been present during the imperial period. Socially, it would have meant the centrality of clan or lineage identities and the ideals, values and power relations that entailed. Culturally, it would have meant the currency of older types of cosmology and origin myths, those featuring lha as ancestors and progenitors from the sky, and the autonomous bon, gshen and other types of ritual specialists who were able to address such beings on behalf of their communities. Politically, it would have been a society of mobile ‘strong men’ type leaders operating within the discourse of ‘arrive and take control’, and whose powers were underpinned by martial ethos and practice. On the one hand, this is precisely what all indications tell us Dung society would have been like prior to their defeat. On the other hand, these are all features that, at the time, the sedentary, agrarian populations in Central Tibet had either left behind or were rapidly reinventing themselves away from. These Plateau peoples had already been strongly exposed to Buddhism, and they continued to be intensively domesticated by polities and elite agents strongly aligned with Buddhist ideology and institutions, as well as subjected to ongoing missionary efforts by Buddhist lamas and clerics whom the political system favoured or sponsored. I am also proposing the Dung were no amorphous and simple, or ad hoc grouping, as suggested by the generic Dung identity accorded to the entire population by their Tibetan conquerors. On the contrary, everything we know about the Dung indicates a collective possessing sophisticated social organisation. They achieved success in remaining ‘stateless’ and autonomous for centuries. They continually undertook effective raids over a vast expanse of territory that was under the rule of the Mongols and after them the Sa-skya-pa polity. They were settled within a network of strategic strongholds that only a major state formation fielding a large military force was able to eventually dislodge and overthrow. Due to their geographical marginality, and a strong desire to remain autonomous, the conservative Dung communities survived relatively untransformed well into the era of reformulation of Tibetan socio-political patterns aligned with the Buddhist cult, an era specifically known in Tibetan historical rhetoric as the phyi dar or ‘later spread’ of Buddhist doctrine.

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The lessons of history inform us that large-scale transformations in societies of the type that transpired across the post-imperial Tibetan Plateau are anything but smooth and neat, nor are they accepted unequivocally by all the populations they impact. More typical are diverse, localised outcomes, including resistance and instances of survivals or stronger levels of continuity with the past. Most examples of such outcomes tend to endure longest in areas that are geographically peripheral to core zones of state formation and enclosure. Considering this, one would indeed expect the existence of groups such as the Shar Dung as I have just described them during the Tibetan post-imperial period and following phyi dar era. The little we know of their lifestyle, and their conflicted relations with neighbouring Tibetans, as well as the Shar Dung’s decision for a self-imposed Himalayan exile rather than certain enclosure and domestication by a totalising Tibetan Buddhist polity, speaks loudly of the measure of their will to preserve their autonomy along with the continuity of their own inherited traditions. Shar Dung choices all reflect the ‘obstinacy’ their would-be Tibetan ‘tamers’ named them for. These very traits, together with their centuries of experience of highly mobile, longdistance raiding and of armed, strategic conflict in highland terrain, would have enabled the Shar Dung to become successful and locally dominant colonisers of the Himalaya valleys they moved southwards into. We can well understand peoples like the Shar Dung and their actions as being one premodern example of an intention that James Scott astutely referred to as ‘the art of not being governed’.287 By retreating into remote and rugged, and therefore largely ungovernable, mountain and hill country, Shar Dung migrants made a conscious choice to remain stateless and beyond the reach of dominant, premodern polities. My hypothesis concerning the Shar Dung thus defines the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative as embodying the collective memory of some self-exiled clans who were originally ancestral components of a wider Shar Dung collective ranged across lHo-brag, gTam-shul and Gru-shul. If those who recorded the Lha’i gsung rabs did not invoke the name Dung themselves in the text, it is hardly surprising for a number of reasons. For all we currently know, Dung was an ethnonymicepithet used by outsiders who were critics and who became

victorious enemies. One would need a good reason to use such a name. One reason may have been adaptation to local social conditions in which title-carrying linages and families enjoyed higher prestige, which may have been the case, for example, for gDung descent lines in the Bumthang valleys. None of this is unusual; ethnonyms and epithets frequently become appropriated as autonyms (and vice versa) during periods of transition and shifts in power relations, such as occur when migrations and resettlements are undertaken. My hypothesis also explains various features of the data offered by the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative. It accounts for the strong continuities of content between the very old ritual culture of mundane rites that chapters 14-15 demonstrated the existence of across the southernmost central Tibetan Plateau territory of the pre-exile Shar Dung and the Srid-pa’i lha cult to the south. Migrating Shar Dung clans or lineages offer the most convincing explanation of southward transmissions of this material. The hypothesis also accounts for the very close correlation between the distribution of Srid-pa’i lha cult worship communities, and the occurrence of historical traces and ethnographic records of migrant clans I claim were both components of the Shar Dung population and Himalayan Dung across my research region. I will now survey a range of data that reinforces this correlation.

16.6 Himalayan gDung and the Srid-pa’i lha Cult It should initially be noted that Classical Tibetan language sources composed in the Himalayas mention the population we are concerned with using both Dung and gDung spellings. While in this section I follow convention set by others, and use the spelling gDung in my own discussion of the Himalayan context, there are no good grounds to privilege either spelling since both regularly occur in the sources. It was once proposed that Himalayan peoples called Dung or gDung might have represented some regional ‘aboriginal’ substratum across Bhutan.288 That idea has never been substantiated, and, in any case, it obviously cannot explain the bulk of data we now have available. John Ardussi’s proposal, that gDung titled lineages and families – or their traces – recorded between eastern Bhutan and the

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Mon-yul Corridor are descendants of migrating Shar Dung ancestors from Tibet, is well-supported by all indicative evidence. This support includes all we know of the Shar Dung of lHo-brag and environs, as well as the set of common features found in both the Lha’i gsung rabs and the gDung origin narratives in the Rgyal rigs. To that, we can now add another whole range of Himalayan indications that occur within the cult of the Srid-pa’i lha itself, or that are associated with its established worship communities. All these indications further strengthen Ardussi’s claim of a substantial, southward Shar Dung migration, with their following Himalayan dispersal and resettlement, as well as demonstrating that many cult worship communities have old gDung roots as one component of their ancestral backgrounds. I will examine examples of three types of evidence related to Himalayan gDung. The first type of evidence is a set of characteristics of the Srid-pa’i lha cult that lead us directly back to lHo-brag and the Shar Dung homelands. At very least, many of these characteristics can only reasonably be explained with reference to features of southern Tibetan Plateau societies like the Dung, rather than to either Himalayan valley populations or sedentary Tibetan Plateau agricultural communities. The second type of evidence concerns Himalayan traces of gDung settlers occurring in local folk cultures, as well as in both obvious and obscure Dung and gDung toponyms. Other commentators have already cited traces of this type. However, there are far more traces than has previously been realised, while high concentrations of them occur in areas that have so far not been investigated. The third type of evidence is that occurrences of Srid-pa’i lha worship generally map closely onto those areas in which gDung-identified groups were once settled or are still present. This is revealed in a host of local references to gDung ancestry within local worship communities, as well as in direct identification of the cult itself with gDung.

much ritual and symbolic content in the Srid-pa’i lha cult is simply incongruent within the environment where it currently exists. The deep and steep-sided, heavily forested valleys of eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, with hot and humid summer conditions, heavy monsoon rainfalls, and multiple ecosystems marked by very high biodiversity are the natural home of swidden or sedentary cultivators who also keep pigs and chickens, plus a few domestic cattle (but only after contact histories with Tibetan Plateau and Indian plains societies), who harvest a wide range of wild foods, who build with abundant forest timbers and whose material culture relies upon canes and bamboos. Apart from the exception of the higher Bumthang valleys, the great majority of worship communities participating in the cult dwell in the type of environment just described. However, much of the cult’s central content is incongruous with this eastern Himalayan world. The central goals expressed in all major rites and narratives feature fertility of human lineages and their bovine livestock, not cultivated crops. The material culture of ritual allots highest symbolic value to items such as sheep’s wool, yak horns and butter, all of which are typical Tibetan Plateau products. On the one hand, key dietary taboos for both ritual specialists and worship communities relate to the main domestic and sacrificial animals of the Himalayan hill tracts, namely the pig and the chicken. On the other hand, the equally strong prescription for the same persons is to consume the principal Tibetan Plateau animals related to domestic life in arid, high altitude steppe and mountain country, namely large bovine livestock – but especially the yak – and the sheep. The horse, another quintessential Tibetan Plateau animal, also receives a special place within myths and rites of the cult. Moreover, hunting of larger, highland game animals plays a central role in the cult, in terms of the ritual goal of access to and replacement of stocks of such game. The overall profile these combined references demonstrate is one matching closely with everything we know of the Shar Dung while they still dwelt in their Tibetan Plateau highland territories of lHo-brag and environs.

Tibetan Plateau Characteristics of the Cult Concerning evidence of the first type, there are many obvious points already discussed in parts II-IV of the first volume that can be summarily recalled here. Firstly, it is obvious

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In addition to the above points, three specific aspects of Srid-pa’i lha rites lead us directly back to the Shar Dung territories due north of the Himalaya valleys within which the cult is currently distributed.

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

Ritual Journey Itineraries As noted in chapter 7, the itineraries of most verbal ritual journeys chanted by bon shamans have their ‘lift-off’ points for the departure vertically up into the sky located within the landscape of lHo-brag. This is the case regardless of the Himalayan location of any particular worship community (fig. 29).

lHo-brag also represent more proximate ancestral origin points, places of former abode, such as stone strongholds, from where southward Shar Dung migrations began. They would also have been the lift-off points from which older, purely vertical ritual journeys were staged in the sacred spaces reserved for such rites by Shar Dung communities and their ritual specialists. The correlation of these lift-off points across the lHo-brag highlands formerly occupied

In general, a verbal ritual journey to the Srid-pa’i lha is a backward journey to the ancestral realm since the sky lha represent human origins. The terrestrial lift-off points in

í Figure 29. Northward horizontal phases, lift-off points and vertical phases for verbal ritual journey itineraries across the research region.289 Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus.

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by the Shar Dung is far too strong to represent any other known population of southernmost Central Tibet. Finally, the Shar Dung whom we know migrated south, must have done so along the same river valley and pass routes which are plotted as terrestrial itineraries in the verbal ritual journeys of the cult today (map 9).

The Stone Stronghold Stone mkhar or ‘strongholds’, which are multi-storied, and often tower-like structures, were a very early feature of Tibetan narratives about life during imperial times. They were represented as the permanent dwelling of the first rulers and aristocracy already in the Old Tibetan sources. The Tibetan historical sources on the Shar Dung also described their key dwellings as mkhar btsan sa or ‘secure strongholds’, with emphasis upon their strategic function. 290 Indeed, as I will discuss in more detail in chapter 18, lHo-brag itself is the Tibetan Plateau terminus region for the occurrence of an older stone tower-cum-stronghold architecture, the scattered distribution of which occurs generally in a line across the south-eastern Tibetan Plateau between western Sichuan and lHo-brag (see map 14). The highest regional concentrations of both ruined and intact examples of this stone tower-cum-stronghold architecture anywhere in Central Tibet occur precisely in the old historical territory of the Shar Dung, but particularly along the lHo-brag Shar Chu river valley. As already mentioned, this valley and its tributaries and passes has been a historical route and key conduit for intercourse directly between areas such as gTam-shul where the dGa’-thang manuscripts had been discovered in its headwaters region to the north, and all the main valleys in north-east Bhutan and Tawang within which the most sophisticated forms of the Srid-pa’i lha cult are distributed. While one might dismiss many Himalayan references to stone mkhar as a mere mythical motif representing some lost but glorious past, that would be a misleading underestimate in the case of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Not only do we find actual ruins of these structures at strategic highland sites across the research region, but also in all the local documents and

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spoken languages of the same region we find the old towers or taller multi-storied stone fortress-like buildings are always termed mkhar using the Tibetan word rather than any local expressions. Similarly, colloquial words for ‘house’ in local languages do not include mkhar, regardless of whether they are multi-storied and of stone. Thus, this term only applies to a very specific type of architecture originating on the nearby Tibetan Plateau, and one featuring particularly in narratives about origins and foundation periods which lead back there. This we saw in the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative. Several observers have already drawn attention to the very high prevalence of historical toponyms incorporating the word mkhar in eastern Bhutan and the neighbouring Mon-yul Corridor. Michael Aris related them to locations of older clan territories ranged across proto-east Bhutan and Mon-yul.291 Indeed, the data give the impression that in many areas mkhar defined a very old permanent settlement, actualised by erecting a stone stronghold or tower foundation, and which became the ruling centre of localised power and defence. Given this frequency of occurrence, it is hardly surprising to find mkhar featuring significantly within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. Moreover, mentions of mkhar in the cult are not mere references in the narratives, such as one finds in Tibetan historiographical materials, for example. Unlike all other ritual systems I know of in the research region, the mkhar has a special status in Srid-pa’i lha rites. Moreover, the populations who ritually appeal to Srid-pa’i lha ancestors maintain special associations between the word mkhar and the name Dung (see below). In various rabs chanted for Srid-pa’i lha rites, the centrality of the stone mkhar stronghold is obvious. The mkhar and its denizens – specifically people with their horses and dogs – are the subject of sel purification rites. The ritual concern of the mkhar bsang rite is to purify the mkhar after a death of any of these three beings within its confines, due to the pollution associated with their three types of corpses (mi ro, rta ro, khyi ro). The architectural structure of the mkhar itself has specific deities associated with it, who must be ritually addressed. These are called the ‘stronghold lha’ (mkhar lha), and more specifically the ‘pinnacle of the stronghold lha’ (mkhar gyi rtse lha) or ‘pinnacle lha’ (rtse lha), referring to the very ‘top’ (rtse mo) of high towers or multi-storied

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

structures. This terminology itself is already found in thirteenth century narratives intimately related to the Srid-pa’i lha cult.292 These rites all appear to be cultic traces of an older society, such as the raiding and ‘obstinate’ Shar Dung, for whom the impregnable stone mkhar stronghold was once of central importance.

Martial Rites Finally, the ethnographies throughout the first volume presented a range of cult worship communities who celebrate martial performances during their Srid-pa’i lha festivals. These feature armed and armoured male warriors who broadcast war cries, who assume battle postures, or who engage in mock combat and vigorous – at times even aggressive – physical displays involving strutting, jumping and sometimes violent movements. Similarly, in local bon shaman ritual texts, we also find men from the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans being hailed to attend cult festivals dressed in their battle equipment (see ch. 12). In the same sources, the lha themselves are invoked to take the weapons as their ritual supports, or to extend their powers to the sword blades, arrow points and the surfaces of shields and armour to enhance them. Such consistent martial content in rites has no single or coherent explanation today across all the festivals which feature it. The whole phenomenon suggests an older cultural stratum whose significance has been forgotten, and that is now generally explained by a range of localised notions at various sites where we find it. These martial rites are found best represented in festivals across the northern region of the cult’s distribution closest to the Tibetan Plateau. This is especially so in the valleys of Kurtö, upper Khoma Chu and Kholong Chu, in the old La-’og Yul-gsum settlements of the northern Mon-yul Corridor, and also at a few sites further south that appear to be culturally influenced by them. These are all areas in which we find ample traces of the Dung and of the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans. One convincing explanation for the existence of these martial rites throughout this zone of the cult’s distribution is that they represent a survival from an earlier Shar Dung

society in which the warrior, his essential battle gear and the support of the ancestral deities both man and weapons depend upon, were celebrated and ritually actualised in public. Srid-pa’i lha festivals, as events for maintaining the vitality and continuance of clans and lineages, would be a most logical venue for such celebrations. There may be deeper layers of significance here, related to the origins of the Shar Dung themselves, and I will recall these in chapter 18 once again.

Himalayan Traces of the Dung There are far more traces of earlier, migrant Himalayan gDung than have so far been realised, and they occur in areas previously not equated with gDung presence. Most authors who have referenced Himalayan gDung descended from Shar Dung migrants worked primarily with origin narratives of gDung lineages recorded in the Rgyal rigs. These describe the Ngang gDung, Bemji gDung (whose line migrated from Ngang), U-ra gDung and gZhong-sgar gDung. There are only brief records in a very few other documents. All those records necessarily represent a constrained perspective upon historical gDung presence within the research region. For one, they reflect a combination of final areas of gDung settlement and assimilation around the time the Rgyal rigs was composed, as well as rather fragmented and inconsistent cultural memories of the routes and social mechanisms leading up to those points. The picture gained was further constrained by whatever information Ngag-dbang and his informants managed to access during the 1680s, or felt compelled to include so as to serve their own motivations for composing the work. We know Ngagdbang’s Rgyal rigs and Lo rgyus are all but completely silent on the valleys of north-east Bhutan, and that they presented only a selective view of the Mon-yul Corridor. We might well ask which other groups of gDung, or their stories, failed to gain a mention in the Rgyal rigs? How and where did the first Shar Dung migrants and their later gDung descendants move southwards until final settlement and assimilation? My goal in surveying further examples of gDung traces below is to work towards answers for these questions. I also want to reveal the geographical relationship between

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Pang La

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In the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative, the three migrant clans named Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru arrived at, ‘seized’ and settled in three adjacent areas of north-east Bhutan. According to my interpretation set out above, these three clans would have been self-exiled components of the defeated

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Traces in North-East Bhutan

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gDung traces and the overall distribution of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, as well as enhance my hypothesis that the Khu, [b]Se-ru and gNam-sa clans would have originally been components of the Shar Dung population. I will restrict my examples to the valleys of north-east Bhutan, plus notes on the Mon-yul Corridor in order to add new contributions beyond what existing studies of the Rgyal rigs and sources for central-eastern Bhutan have already given us.

Tashiyangtse Dzong

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é Map 10. The historical Dung-rang area, with dung (or dong) toponyms and settlement names, and locations of highland ruins in north-eastern Bhutan.

Shar Dung collective. Yet, they are not identified with any form of the generic Dung or gDung name or title in surviving versions of the narrative. As previously stated, there are reasonable ways to account for this lack, and for their preferring to use clan autonyms instead. The Lha’i gsung rabs is, after all, an antecedent narrative by and about a group of ‘insiders’ who chant it to themselves, and who thus do not necessarily need to recall and project any generic identities. Even back in southern Tibet, those peoples the Tibetan historians called Dung and Dung-reng did not use that term as their autonym. When describing repeated efforts by the Ra-lung hierarch, ’Jam-dbyangs Kun-dga’ Seng-ge (1314-47), over the decade 1335-1345 to bring Dung raiding

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

to a halt, John Ardussi astutely observed, “the people with whom Kunga Sengge associated during these visits did not refer to themselves as Dung or even as Gdung.”293 In any case, evidence that the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans were components of the Shar Dung would only strengthen my proposal. According to the Lha’i gsung rabs, as well as to both earlier and later historical documents, cartographic data and ethnographic evidence, there are indeed multiple traces of Dung – without the g- prefix – presence around the whole area where these three clans settled. The settlement area of the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans in north-east Bhutan was threefold. One part included the upper valley of the Kholong Chu and its tributaries primarily along the west bank, from modern Tashiyangtse Dzong northwards up to the last settlements in Bumdeling. Secondly, there was the Shel-phu (or Sherphu) uplands of the northernmost Sher-re Chu valley headwaters, as well as highlands northward from there along either side of the main Dungda ridge as far as the sPang La pass. To the west, they had sites along the mid- to lower Khoma Chu valley. Relative to its actual area, this discrete settlement zone and its peripheries is replete with a high concentration of Dung toponyms (map 10). The lower Khoma Chu valley features multiple local toponyms, including Nyalamdung, Lingdung, Bramidung and Babdung, all being steep hill areas after which villages and hamlets were named. There is Changdung naming highlands north of Khoma village up the Yongla tributary of the Khoma Chu, Khri-dung (today Khetong) for the strategic confluence of the Ang-mo-long Chu (Amālung Chu on maps) and lower Khoma Chu rivers. The Ang-mo-long Chu’s headwaters f low from the major north-south ridgeline dividing the Khoma Chu catchment area from the Kholong Chu catchment. That ridge is locally named Dungda or Dunga (also Donga on some maps) along some twenty kilometres of its length. The tributaries leading eastwards down from the ridge to Tashiyangtse Dzong are the Dungdala Chu (Dongdala or Tongdala on some maps) and Dungri Chu. Upstream from their confluence with the Kholong Chu, in Bumdeling we find the place names Gangdung, Jamdung and Kipsidung for sites located high up the sides of the main valley. This sub-region just outlined encompassed an area which early historical

accounts named Dung-rang, and which the Lha’i gsung rabs itself calls rDung-rang (map 10). Dung-rang references start appearing in written accounts by early travellers who passed through the region. One is a rare manuscript biography of the Tibetan ‘treasure revealer’ Shes-rab Me-’bar, who appears to have been in this region during the late fourteenth century.294 This text comes down to us undated and missing its final sections and colophon, although we might reasonably assume it originates sometime during the early fifteenth century. Late in his life, Shes-rab Me-’bar arrived in, and pursed activities related to gter ma and sbas yul in parts of north-eastern proto-Bhutan, which he generically referred to as Mon like most Tibetans of his day. He was also active during the same period in the immediately adjacent Tibetan Plateau areas of lHo-brag and Mon mTsho-sna. In the eighteenth and nineteenth sections of the text, Shes-rab Me-’bar’s travels to known sites that he named Mon Nya-lam[-dung], Rong-ma-steng, Mon-kha Na-ring Seng-ge rDzong, bTsan-mkhar and Shag-shig-ma are described. They reveal that he moved back and forth between the two areas he identified respectively as Mon Kuru Lung-pa (i.e., the Kuri Chu valley) to the west, and Mon Dung-rang Lung-pa to the east.295 The logic of the itinerary and its identifiable place names here means that Dung-rang Lung-pa must lay somewhere between the Khoma Chu valley and the adjacent upper Kholong Chu valley. The name Dung-rang Lung-pa that Shes-rab Me-’bar uses for this area can be read in two ways depending upon spellings related to CT rang[s] po ~ reng[s] po. It could be a variant of the descriptive ethnonym Dung-reng(s) applied to the Shar Dung in lHo-brag by Tibetan writers during the same century as the lama’s visit. In that case, it means ‘Valley/area of the Obstinate Dung’. Alternatively, Dungrang Lung-pa literally describes the ‘Valley/area of the Independent Dung’. Regardless of the precise reading, the name seems clear evidence that during the late fourteenth century a Dung population occupied the very same rDungrang area described as having been seized and settled by the three migrant clans in the Lha’i gsung rabs. This fits exactly with the southward exile of Shar Dung factions from neighbouring lHo-brag sometime around 1352-1353.

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Shes-rab Me-’bar’s Dung-rang Lung-pa reference for this specific part of far north-eastern proto-Bhutan is not unprecedented in travellers’ accounts from the fifteenth century. The local Bumthang ‘treasure revealer’ Padma Gling-pa, who travelled around eastern proto-Bhutan and the Monyul Corridor approximately a century after Shes-rab Me’bar, also recorded identical references. When returning from a journey through the southernmost Tibetan districts of Lo-ro, Gru-shul (i.e., his Gro-shul), and mTsho-sna in 1487, Padma Gling-pa proceeded down the Nyamjang Chu valley en route to the Kholong Chu valley via the sGrib La pass route crossing from east to west, and there stated that he ‘went in the direction of Dung-rang’. 296 In context this can only mean exactly the same area Shes-rab Me-’bar described as Dung-rang Lung-pa because Padma Gling-pa then duly crossed into the upper Kholong Chu valley, and passed further west via the Sib-sib La pass route which traverses the Dunga range and descends past Khri-dung into the Khoma Chu valley (map 10). These latter Dung toponyms would have all been within the area of Dung-rang Lung-pa. On a later journey undertaken in 1504, but this time much further to the south, Padma Gling-pa described his arrival in the central Mon-yul Corridor, around the area where modern Dirang is located. There he visited a local ruler (rgyal po) ‘at the place called Dung ’Di-rang.’297 This name strongly recalls the Dung-rang toponym both Padma Gling-pa himself and Shes-rab Me-’bar used in far northeastern proto-Bhutan. Given evidence of multiple Dung historical toponyms in the Dirang region (see below) it is almost certain that Dung ’Di-rang and Dung-rang Lung-pa shared a common referent, namely, the settlement of Dung groups who controlled territories they were identified with. The historical sources provide strong evidence that the highlands between the upper Kholong Chu and Khoma Chu valleys were a settlement area of post-1350s Shar Dung migrants, and that other factions of the same population had settled further down the Mon-yul Corridor. These very areas coincide with the known historical and ethnographic spread of Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru social identities. In addition to the toponymic and historical data just presented, we also find that local folklore and dialect

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vocabulary in the same area being discussed here strongly indicate an older Dung presence there. Rather uniquely among the East Bodish languages, as well as amongst other Tibetic and Tibeto-Burman languages throughout the greater highland region, the Dzala language spoken in both the Khoma Chu and Kholong Chu valleys uses the word dung to refer to a ‘steep hill’ or ‘highland ridge’.298 Why this unusual word uniquely occurs in current Dzala may well be an artefact of older Dung settlements and strongholds once erected on exactly those types of topographical features so-named. Moreover, there are indeed plenty of ruins in remote highlands strategically placed upon steep ridges and slopes around this same area, which might suggest this to have been the case (see below, and map 10). The use of dung for ‘steep hill’ or ‘highland ridge’ in Dzala, likely inspired by older, strategic Dung settlements, is not unique in the region. A parallel case occurs in the contemporary east Bhutanese and Dirang dialects of Tshangla, where a dung element in names for sites of permanent or established human occupation nowadays simply means ‘village’ or ‘settlement’. Such dung references always follow a settlement’s Tshangla proper name in the post-position. Cognates for Tshangla dung ‘village’ or ‘settlement’ in other nearby Tibeto-Burman languages are not to be found, and among hundreds of linguistic records for words with the same meaning from other, more distantly related languages it appears to be absolutely unique. As with the unique Dzala dung, the Dirang Tshangla usage most likely refers back to, and is derived from, an older era of Dung settlement within the region. 299 Judging from ethnographic data collected over the past century, one would not be wrong to consider a midfourteenth century Himalayan middle hills zone, such as the central Mon-yul Corridor, as having been an area once used by small and mobile local societies who subsisted by hunting, foraging and perhaps practiced swidden cultivation, and who lived in simple wooden dwellings. A Tibetan Plateau migrant population who suddenly arrived in, then settled and erected massive stone dwellings at fixed and often very strategic locations in such a region, and who probably practiced animal husbandry based upon bovines and sheep, would certainly have been a complete novelty at the time. It is reasonable to assume that such an event would have prompted linguistic innovations like dung for ‘village’

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

or ‘settlement’ if the new arrivals were themselves identified as Dung, whether that identification was present at the time or in later cultural history. Along the lower Khoma Chu river valley, there is also a living oral tradition of folklore concerning older Dung inhabitants associated with dung topography and mkhar stone stronghold towers. Villagers identify a site named Khoma Dung, which is a steep and now forest-covered hill ridge (dung) where the ruins of old stone buildings are found upon crags high above the river at the point it turns northwards. The same site is associated with local folk narratives of a ‘strongman’ or ‘bandit’-type figure, who is also named Khoma Dung. He is described as raiding livestock and crops from the surrounding region, only to retreat once again into the impregnable fastness of his mkhar tower above the valley and successfully resist all opposition. Similar tales are also told of related tower sites below Namgong, where ruins of such structures can also still be seen, lower down the Khoma Chu valley. Whatever else one may wish to think about them, these folk tales and their motifs have to be contextualised along with all the other Dung indicators we have from the same area. The tales recall perfectly the historical Tibetan records of Shar Dung behaviour in neighbouring lHo-brag and its surroundings. Very similar oral tales of Dung strongmen related to older stone ruins have been reported from valleys further to the west where the Srid-pa’i lha cult has also been established. For example, there are many such stories about the figure of Dung Nagpo of Ura in Bumthang. 300 Ura of course once had its own gDung ancestral lineage mentioned already in the late seventeenth century Rgyal rigs,301 and it has been a site of sophisticated Srid-pa’i lha worship until very recently. To add to the substantial evidence base indicating that far north-eastern proto-Bhutan was a Shar Dung refuge and settlement area, we can recall ethnographic details from the Tsango area in chapter 9. There I described the presence along the Khoma Chu valley of a whole series of ruined and abandoned higher altitude settlements (map 10), some comprising scores of once substantial stone buildings, including the site of old Tsango itself (pl. 104). Considered together, when inhabited these sites must have once

supported a considerable population. Compared with the majority of lower altitude, agrarian-based settlements along the present-day Khoma Chu valley, these older, higher and more remote sites would have once been very strategic and defensible, but also highly marginal or not at all suitable for any type of cultivation. The populations settled at these now ruined sites must have depended heavily upon herding, hunting and petty trade, and perhaps also the raiding that Dung folktales in the area describe. We know the descendants of the old Tsango ancestors still subsisted by practising herding, hunting and petty trade into the recent modern era. These ancient highland dwelling sites upon ridges and steep uplands, whether now in long abandoned ruins (e.g., at Shel-mkhar, Mon-mkhar and Khoma Dung), or seasonally and occasionally used (e.g., at Tsango and Gyephukhar) or still actively settled (e.g., Lawa), all share characteristics unique to this valley. They are all strongly associated with the origins of the Srid-pa’i lha cult throughout this region. Indeed, those with still living traditions boast the most sophisticated festivals we find within the entire Srid-pa’i lha cult region. In those upland Khoma communities that still hosted cult festivals during my period of field research, a number of features suggested social and linguistic traces of an earlier ‘outsider’ background, and the types of barriers typical of the insularity such communities maintain. These included a strong preference for community endogamy, the presence of special, spoken cryptolects as ‘secret languages’ (see appx. F), not to mention the local folklore featuring strongman raiders identified as Dung who lived in stone strongholds. Finally, all these sites either preserve or are associated with redactions of the Lha’i gsung rabs and the clan identities mentioned therein.

Traces in the Mon-yul Corridor Based upon the limited data available to him during the 1970s, Michael Aris initially suggested the Shar Dung had migrated into the Mon-yul Corridor and were the speakers of Dakpa, while the lHo Dung entered Bumthang as the speakers of Bumthap.302 While that hypothesis is now redundant, in his analysis Aris rightly observed that – in contrast to parts of eastern central Bhutan – no descent groups

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along the borders of far eastern Bhutan and in the Mon-yul Corridor explicitly identify themselves as gDung. Rather, traces of older gDung presence are to be found in the form of [g]dung elements preserved in toponyms, settlement names, personal names, and even titles throughout Tawang and Dirang. Aris was correct, although, in relation to toponyms and settlement names. There is far more evidence in favour of his position than he once had access to, as well as the occurrence of a telling pattern within the data itself. Aris noted the historical settlement and site names mKhargdung, Ar-rgya-gdung and sPa’u-gdung around La-’og Yulgsum (the later Tshosum), to which we can add A’u-gdung and gDung-dkar, as well as the same total of other, more recently recorded Tshosum settlement names with dung elements in them.303 Along the Dakpanang section of the lower reaches of the Nyamjang Chu, we also find a strong concentration of toponyms and settlement names with dung elements.304 Aside from these two areas, such concentrations of dung names do not exist anywhere else within the whole Tawang district. Both the La-’og Yul-gsum or Tshosum, and the Dag-pa-yul or Dakpanang areas are those where all the sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship are also found, as well as covering the old settlement area of Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans whom I consider were migrant components of the Shar Dung. This very strong, threefold correlation between Dung traces and clans and occurrence of the cult is exactly that reported in the previous section for the Bumdeling, Shere Chu highlands and Khoma Chu valley sub-region. Further evidence of such [g]dung toponyms is found within the central Mon-yul Corridor where we also know the Khu and gNam-sa clans had spread and settled. However, that evidence is obscured beneath later linguistic transformations and folk etymologies based upon spoken Tshangla as the language of migrants from eastern Bhutan who became settled in districts such as Dirang in large numbers during some unknown time period. For example, in chapter 11 I showed how old clan names at Thempang, such as Khu and rGyal-phu, had become distorted by Dirang Tshangla speakers due to a combination of local pronunciation of originally Tibetan words, as well as accretions and folk etymologies. Here are just two further examples among many

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of these same cultural-linguistic phenomena masking historical gDung-related toponyms in the region. The Rgyal rigs records the early name written sNyog(s)-gdung for a settlement area located in the Dirang district, just south of the Ze La pass. In Classical Tibetan, amongst other things this older name can literally mean ‘gDung children (snyogs305)’. The Rgyal rigs also uses the word lding in relation to the site, which is the technical term found in southernmost Central Tibet for settlements of non-cultivators like the Tibetan Plateau Shar Dung themselves had once been. Thus, the name bears all the expected hallmarks of an earlier Dung migrant group or site. Nowadays, this name recorded three and a half centuries earlier is distorted by the folk etymology nyukma taken to mean ‘bamboo’ (cf. CT smyug ma or spa/sba), and the Tshangla postposition dung element taken to mean ‘village’.306 In another instance, the Rgyal rigs gives the name gDung-phu Rong 307 for the river valley in which ’Di-rang (or later sometimes sDe-rang), the area or community of Dung ’Di-rang recorded already in the fifteenth century, is located. In Classical Tibetan, this old name means ‘gDung highland ravine’, and relates back culturally to the ‘highland’ (phu) deity named Ata Dungphu who is classified as a chis ancestor and worshipped by Bapu ranked clans in Dirang Busti during their annual Srid-pa’i lha festival called Chisöshe. Tshangla speakers in the area transformed the same old gDung-phu Rong name into Dongpuri or Dongri.308 Local Tshangla etymologies I collected in Dirang render its elements as ‘down’ or ‘downwards’ (dong < dongtei), ‘highland deity’ (phu) ‘river’ (ri), thus significantly masking its original, social-historical significance. There are many such examples of now obscured Dung or gDung references bearing old cultural-historical traces of Shar Dung settlement in the Mon-yul Corridor. Their careful analysis could help extend the map of possible Dung spread and settlement there during the more distant past.

Dung Identities in the Cult The manuscripts recording Srid-pa’i lha rites and rabs feature many explicit references to gDung as ancestral or current identities of both bon shamans in agnate lineages and hereditary ritual sponsor groups within the cult. From

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

among many such examples I documented during my field research, the following two cases from Khoma and Kheng illustrate these types of explicit, local Dung connections preserved in local written and oral traditions. The first case occurs in a genealogical recitation forming a prose colophon at the end of a major chant sequence. This chant is recorded within a ritual manual of the bon shaman lineage based at the Dzala speaking village of Lawa in the Khoma Chu valley. Lawa is also a site where the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative about the arrival of the Khu, gNam-sa and [b]Se-ru clans is preserved in bon shaman manuscripts. The chant sequence itself is referred to as the Khab-lha (see ch. 9), which is the traditional term in Khoma dialects of Dzala to refer to major Srid-pa’i lha festivals: Those are the verses of the Khab-lha. They were revealed within the mind of the bon po gsas po. It is complete! May all be auspicious! There have been nine bon po in an uninterrupted lineage: the first was the ancestor ’Dung; the second was his son Khar-po; the third was his son Sra-bo; the fourth was his son Sa-gab; the fifth was his son Kun-po; the sixth was his son Lug-po; the seventh was his son Dug-bu; the eighth was his son rMo[n?]-lam Seng-ge; and the ninth was his son Ge-sar.309 This is a fragment from far back in the past since none of the known personal names of the past six hereditary bon shamans serving the Lawa community that date back over a century is anything like these.310 As a possible mark of their antiquity, the style of names here match those occurring in the oldest sections of other genealogies from the Srid-pa’i lha cult described in chapter 5. With but few minor exceptions, these older names are comprised of a mono-syllabic or bi-syllabic unit, and are unrelated to the Classical Tibetan names composed of etymologically meaningful elements which reflect Buddhist symbols and culture and the astrological naming practices used by lamas. The Rgyal rigs genealogies also preserve a variety of such non-Buddhist, bi-syllabic personal names in records of earlier clan ancestors in the region.311 All such names very likely represent older naming practices of the speakers of East Bodish

languages or of Dung peoples. In this example from Lawa, we are dealing with an old fragment of a genealogy for which we now only have discontinuous information. Yet, many of the complete bon shaman genealogies (mes rabs) from the region list around thirty generations in lineages, an example of which was given in chapter 5. If one uses an optimal, average generational age of twenty-three years for a thirty generation lineage record, this brings us back to the early fourteenth century period, just prior to the Shar Dung exile into adjacent Himalayan valleys. This may be another clue indicating the Dung origins of bon shamans. A second example of gDung identification occurs in the elaborate ritual texts for Srid-pa’i lha rites chanted by bon po who once served the community of Kheng Buli, and that are all still preserved in local manuscripts and the memories of some older participants. The cult has been present at Buli and neighbouring Tali primarily in the form of the annual Shu rite that is also locally named Gunglha (cf. CT dgung lha). However, in recent decades the continued practice of Shu has been heavily compromised by various factors, not least of all by absence of qualified hereditary bon po.312 The Buli dPon-po lineage is gDung,313 and like most gDung descendants, they explicitly claim lha of the sky (dgung lha) as their apical ancestors. The Buli Shu text at one point features a Lha rabs genealogy with fourteen links, beginning with the lha chen Thang-lha, then ’O-de Gung-rgyal and his ‘son’ gNya’-khri bTsan-po, and passes through a line of various mythological emperors, after which it states: Since this is the hereditary lineage of [g]Nya’-khri bTsan-po, it is that of the present-day Dung [i.e., the dPon-po]. The hereditary lineage from them is unbroken, and it is not good to doubt it.314 The preceding is the hereditary lineage from the lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal.315 Along with the Buli dPon-po, all gDung identified families and lineages scattered at settlements throughout western Kheng act as primary ritual sponsors of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. An oral chant of the text for a purification rite used during the Rup festival at Goleng village states this clearly in an origins section describing the sub-regional network of rites:

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source language

common names for ‘bat’

alternative ‘bat’ names

Classical Tibetan (= CT)

pha wang

bya ma byi

Gzi brjid (mid-14 cent.), CT

sgam che pha wang

Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, CT

sgam pha wang yer zur

th

Srid-pa’i lha rabs, CT & CT-East sgam chen pha wang, Bodish influenced texts sgam chen pha wang ye zur/zhur Central Tibetan dialects

phɐwɐŋ

Dzongkha

phauma:ke

Bumthap

gomtʃhen phɐwɐŋ

ɐŋ

Kheng

gomtʃ en p ɐwɐŋ

pɐwɐ leŋ

Kurtöp

gomc en p ɐwɐŋ

Chocha-ngacha

gomtʃhen phɐwɐŋ

Dzala (Khomakha dialect)

gomchen phɐwɐŋ

Dzala

gomchen phɐla

Dakpa

gomtɕhɛn pha:waŋ

uŋ

Brokpake (Tawang District)

gomtʃ en p ɐwɐŋ

dʒɐmdʒu

Tshangla dialects

p a:waŋ, p awoŋ

don pha:waŋ

Mey/Sherdukpen

< khoci-pangpang >

Sartang

Ampòó

Bugun/Khowa

< phabyab >

Tani languages/dialects

tapen, tapeng, tapon, takpon

h

h

h

h

h

h

h

h

Purify, purify. Call to the lha [’O-de] Gung-rgyal! Father ston pa Shen-rab, You appointed Rup for the gDung of Go-leng. You appointed Kha-ri-pa for the Shar Tong-pa. You appointed Rup for the gDung of Nya-mkhar. You appointed Mi-sim for the gDung of sTag-ma. You appointed Ga-sdang for the Kho-che of Jo-ka and Ngang-la. You appointed Shu’d for the dPon-po of Ta-li and Bu-li. You appointed Rup for the dPon-po of sKyid-mkhar and Dag-pa.316

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< pinchi > , < ichi-pinchi >, < korponchung >

î Figure 30. Historical written forms and colloquial spoken forms of words for ‘bat’ within the research region and adjacent areas.

We also know with certainty that the Srid-pa’i lha cult was spread from place to place by gDung families and lineages when their members either migrated or contracted uxorilocal marriages, which are the only two mechanisms for transfer of a hereditary ancestral cult based upon agnatic ceremonial groups. As an example of the first mechanism, we can look at the present Chos-rje lineage of Bemji (written CT Bon-brgyud, cf. Bon-sbis). They descend from Ngang gDung ancestors, and migrated from Ngang in Bumthang, which is an area now bereft of any Srid-pa’i lha worship, to their present seat in the upper Mangde Chu basin.317 The Bemji Chos-rje line have hereditary bon shamans titled pha jo. Until the time of my field research, these pha jo maintained a bi-annual Srid-pa’i lha worship

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

festival called Lhabon which is a variation of Rup (spoken Roop) that survived at a few sites in the western Kheng regions where gDung lineages have settled, as the above chant from Goleng indicates. The Lhabon festival features the pha jo reciting verbal ritual journeys into the sky world to address lha ’O-de Gung-rgyal. They are celebrated not only at Bemji, but also at neighbouring Khazhong and Jongta settlements. As an example of the second mechanism of transfer, via marriage, Bhutanese researcher Lham Dorji has described how ritual sponsors at Goleng in Kheng Nangkor, where a gDung line occurs, inherited their ritual responsibilities during the Rup Srid-pa’i lha festivals via uxorilocal marriage with a male scion of the sTag-ma gDung.318 In eastern Bhutan, there are sites with Srid-pa’i lha worship communities about which we know gDung linages have died out, or been assimilated into Buddhist-identified Chos-rje or dPon lineages. Yet, there are also other sites of the cult without any surviving references to the gDung. However, at all those latter places, the primary, hereditary ritual sponsor households, and often also the hereditary bon shaman lineages, will belong to a household or family who are historically the most powerful in the community in terms of traditional measures of political and social status, and often also wealth. Accordingly, they either have or had hereditary titles, or a classification as ‘landowner’ khral pa taxpayers under premodern Bhutanese states, that is, they typically had many dependent tenants and clients in their thrall during the past. The Taya Gap lineage at Lawa discussed in the documentation of palo rites in chapter 7 is a typical example of this pattern. The same pattern also extends into the Mon-yul Corridor, as demonstrated by the Bapu clans at Thempang described in chapter 11. It is probably the case that many of these hereditary lineages within the cult were once gDung, or that they intermarried with gDung at some stage during the past.

Bats and Fortresses, Mythical and Real This final section does not concern any explicit references to Shar Dung migrants and their Himalayan gDung

descendants, or to the actual word [g]dung. Rather, the initial mid-fourteenth century arrival of these peoples in the Himalayan valleys, and their spread and localised establishment at enduring settlement sites, appear to convincingly explain several bodies of data we now have to hand. One is a specific feature of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and everyday language found among many of the communities who participate in the cult. The other concerns some of the first radiometric datings we have for stone fortress buildings that play a central role in origin myths defining sub-regional social origins. My descriptions and analysis of the cult’s myths and rites in volume I revealed that the messenger or trickster go-between who is a bat plays a central role within the cult over the great majority of its distribution (map 4). This bat in myths and rites has an interesting, formal Tibetan name, sGam-chen Pha-wang, literally the ‘Very Profound Bat’. This orthography – or minor variations upon it – is that used in the vast majority of bon shaman manuscripts. The form of the mythical character name sGam-chen Pha-wang – as opposed to the bat itself – may be an indicator of the appearance of the Shar Dung in the Himalayas, and their presence at settlements where we find the cult during later centuries. In chapter 4, I outlined what we can still trace of the particular Tibetan cultural history behind the mythical name sGam-chen Pha-wang. Old Tibetan references, such as sgam, thugs sgam po and sgam dkyel chen po, are attested in the imperial cult to describe the ‘sagacious’ or ‘versatile’ mental qualities of btsan po emperors who descended from the lha in the sky. They began to reappear as sgam and sgam po titles or name elements in a range of post-eleventh century ‘bon’-identified myths. In that new context, they identified Phy[w]a and Srid-pa’i lha deities, but more interestingly also various go-between figures who often appear as semi-divine and wise ritual specialists, such as sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras mentioned in the dGa’-thang manuscripts. This very pattern of meaningfully reusing Old Tibetan vocabulary to record later ritual texts is that discussed in chapters 14-15, and it is typical of the language occurring in the dGa’-thang manuscripts, the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscripts and the texts used by bon shamans. By the

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mid-fourteenth century, descriptions such as ‘great carrier of profoundness’ (sgam khyer che) and ‘carrier of profoundness bat’ (sgam khyer pha wang) were being applied to a mythical bat with a ‘very profound mouth’ (kha sgam che) who acts as go-between, and were recorded in a text composed in regular Classical Tibetan, the Gzi brjid. The compound sgam khyer itself may very likely be a development of Old Tibetan sgam dkyel. However, after the fourteenth century, this description becomes unknown in any texts composed upon the Tibetan Plateau that are not directly related to the Gzi brjid account. The mythical name sGam-chen Pha-wang was, however, preserved in around one hundred different manuscripts recording bon shaman chants throughout my Himalayan research area, and none of them has a pedigree leading back to the Gzi brjid. Linguists cannot look back in time and tell us what words referring to the wild animal ‘bat’ were being used by earlier speakers of the East Bodish languages, of Tibetic Chochangacha and the Tshangla language during the fourteenth century. But we do know what everyday words the speakers of these languages use for ‘bat’ nowadays. These are tabulated on figure 30 together with written classical Tibetan forms in relevant texts, as well as other everyday ‘bat’ words and some mythical names occurring in a range of neighbouring Tibeto-Burman languages from the region.319 The striking feature revealed in figure 30 is that speakers of all the East Bodish languages and Chocha-ngacha, who represent the vast majority of participants within the Sridpa’i lha cult, name everyday bats using more or less exact spoken forms of the unique, formal Classical Tibetan name for the messenger bat who is the trickster found in the cult’s myths.320 Tshangla speakers are the outstanding exception within the research region, yet this is unsurprising since they are always epiphenomenal within the overall profile of cult communities (see below). The speakers of Mey/Sherdukpen have the name khoci-pangpang that appears to be a close phonetic rendering of the mythical Tibetan name used by all the speakers of East Bodish languages in the cult. Sherdukpen also have narratives of the trickster/messenger bat fully cognate with those occurring in the cult.321 Indeed, Sherdukpen and their neighbours celebrate clan ancestral

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festivals with many features borrowed from the Pla festivals of Dakpa speaking communities in Tawang further north, and during which they actually chant some of the central ritual texts using Dakpa as the liturgical language. Thus, Dakpa gomtɕ hɛn pha:waŋ is highly likely the source of the approximately cognate Mey/Sherdukpen khoci-pangpang, while the latter name form matches other mythological name borrowings by the Sherdukpen from peoples to their east and north we know they had historical contacts with.322 The most reasonable and likely explanation for the data on figure 30 is as follows. The Shar Dung migrated into the Himalayas during the mid-fourteenth century, in the same era as the unique sGam-chen Pha-wang ‘bat’ identity appeared in a Classical Tibetan myth with a highly composite background, after which the name more or less disappeared again in Tibet beyond the context of that Classical Tibetan myth. From then on, the migrant Shar Dung were settled and spread throughout the only region where we know the sGam-chen Pha-wang ‘bat’ name has survived intact over the centuries within a cognate mythical context. Over exactly the same region, this unique Tibetan name became the everyday word for the wild animal ‘bat’. But, that only occurred in the languages of those communities about whom all our evidence strongly indicates the Shar Dung’s descendants settled among, forged affinal and kin ties with, and thus who they also came to share the same ancestral cult with. The sGam-chen Pha-wang name applied to ordinary ‘bats’ – those actually flying around at dusk and nesting in abandoned village houses throughout my research region – appears to be an enduring linguistic and cultural marker of some distant Shar Dung ancestry spread around one set of populations in this part of the eastern Himalayas. Historical sources attest the Shar Dung were consummate constructors of stone stronghold buildings already up to and during the mid-fourteenth century. Their arrival as migrants in the Himalayas might also help explain some recent scientific datings of ruined stronghold buildings within the research region that are strongly associated with origins. In chapter 11, it was noted that radiometric datings have become available for material samples from the

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

structures of two such stronghold sites. Remains from the Dirkhi Dzong at Thempang in the central Mon-yul Corridor were dated to sometime around the year 1400, while those from the bTsan-mkhar or Mi Zim-pa stone fortress in the far east of Bhutan have dates indicating a ruin from around the third decade of the fifteenth century. Both sites feature in origin narratives of first or very early settlers who must have arrived from the north according to all currently available indications. Could these sites and their foundations within the same time period represent a phase of stone fortress building by some new colonising population? The migrant Shar Dung would be the obvious candidate. They would have initially arrived in the Himalayan highlands by the mid-1350s. They highly likely appeared there as outsiders bereft of territory and local alliances, with but few portable material resources, but certainly as highly adept warriors and raiders who embodied one kind of sophisticated Tibetan Plateau culture and its status. It would have then required quite some time, and perhaps engagement in both conflicts and marriage alliances, for the Shar Dung migrants to establish their own permanent colonies based around newly erected stone fortresses situated at the best available sites. One can suggest two generations would be a reasonable timeframe over which such an establishment process could have occurred. That would bring us up to the very same period as the ruins at Thempang and bTsan-mkhar have now been dated to.

16.7 Mapping Ancestry Map 11 depicts the known hereditary identities claimed by primary ceremonial groups with roles as sponsors and ritual specialists in worship communities staging Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Those in the red shaded area claim membership of clans that – according to my analysis – were once components of the Shar Dung who migrated from Tibet. One can note here that, according to the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative an additional seven sites of now extinct historical worship communities occur within this same area or as extensions of it (see map 8), although they are not marked on map 11. Those sites within the green shaded areas still claim or once claimed an explicitly gDung titled ancestry.323 A third group

in the beige shaded areas are most often members of a local elite assuming primary hereditary roles as sponsors of the cult. It is probable that many of these elites had once received transmission of the cult into their lineages via marriage with a clan that originally comprised the migrant Shar Dung or with a gDung-titled spouse, albeit that earlier links and identities subsequently became obscure and are no longer remembered or traceable today. There are a few exceptions in the data informing map 11, 324 yet they do not alter this overall threefold division of the majority of worship communities. The pattern reveals that very few worship communities maintaining the cult do not have one or other inherited identity related to a gDung ancestry. The mapping shows a sharp geographical division of the two types of gDung-related groupings between west and east. This has nothing to do with traces of actual gDung presence, since they occur right across the whole region and are preserved in the same types of forms, namely in toponyms, personal or lineage names, folklore, historical fragments, ritual identities, and so forth. We cannot prove why the western group have gDung titles while the eastern group have old clan identities. Most likely, it resulted from differences in local religious and socio-political history in these respective western and eastern regions, and the impacts this had upon clans and hereditary lineages. For instance, with the rise of religious Chos-rje families across eastern proto-Bhutan during the fifteenth century, groups with gDung ancestry became progressively eroded due to strategic intermarriage. Michael Aris gave a clear account of how this occurred when discussing the social dynamics behind the sMyos clan genealogy.325 Moreover, the emerging Drukpa hierocracy of the late seventeenth century was also highly intolerant of clan social organisation and of various autonomous, hereditary local elites, who were generally perceived as political competitors. This led to the disappearance of clans in all but one or two communities in the most remote valleys on the Drukpa state’s outer peripheries. If gDung migrants west of the Kuri Chu river arrived in the Bumthang valleys bearing their clan identities, these were probably lost already at an early stage, and any that may have survived would have likely been divested or eliminated due to state formation. It may also have been the

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Hereditary Identities of Worship Communities

T

[g]Dung titled descendants

I

( C

H

B I

N

E

A )

Shar Dung clan descendants local elites as hereditary sponsors of the cult

Tamshul

Kula Kangri

Yarlha Shampo

Gathang Bumpache

L H O D R A K

B

H

U

T

A

K h om a ch u

Drushul

N

Tsona

Kangtö

M O N

g chu olon Kh

ar ch u

u ri ch

kh

Sh e r e c hu

m

Thimphu

Ku

Ja

Trongsa

N yamjang c h u

Srid-pa’i lha cult site

T

Tawang

a Taw

Dr a n

u ng ch

gm

a ch

u

Dirang

Mongar M

an

gd

0

15

e

ch

ARUNACHAL PRADESH

u

30

60 km

I

N

D

I

A

é Map 11. Known hereditary identities of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities.

old clan identities still in use, and these areas have always represented the very peripheries of both proto-Bhutanese religious history and the later Drukpa hierocratic state.

case that the earliest Shar Dung migrants to arrive found their clan identities to be redundant or even a social impediment to their establishment in a new environment, and simply adopted the Dung epithet the Tibetans had given them as their own title instead. Or, some of their new Himalayan neighbours and hosts, such as peoples of the Bumthang valleys, who knew the Dung epithet, used it and the migrants accepted that. In stark contrast to areas such as Bumthang further west, the remote upper Khoma Chu and Kholong Chu valleys were the only parts of Bhutan where I recorded

To the east, by contrast, we find long-established clan territories. Those many clan identities recorded for the Monyul Corridor already in the Rgyal rigs – including those also found in the upper Khoma Chu and Kholong Chu valleys of north-east Bhutan – mostly survived as functioning social units within local communities well into the modern period. Indeed, the majority of them still existed during the period of my field research (see appxs. G, H). These clans formed the local socio-political fabric of the region prior to the advent of states there. Yet, apart from some initial

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R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

challenges to their local authority, the clans remained of very little or no interest to the successive ‘foreign’ states of Central Tibetans, British colonials and Indian nationalists that occupied and ruled the region from the seventeenth century until today. This aided the survival and on-going relevance of clans at the level of local communities. Furthermore, the zone on map 11 in between the two primary, east and the west gDung-related groupings features a mix of some communities in which local elites lacking any known gDung ancestry act as hereditary sponsors in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, as well as others who do not match any of the three, colour-coded hereditary profiles. Almost without exception, these latter communities are Tibetic Chochangacha (or Tsamangkha) speaking, and dwell in a continuous cluster ranged north to south along only the west bank of the mid- to lower Kuri Chu valley, between Metsho Gewog and Saleng Gewog. This same cluster of Tibetic language communities also stands out as the most deviant within the entire distribution of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. This is so, for example, when we take account of the calendric period during which each community celebrates its most important Srid-pa’i lha festival. With but very few exceptions, all other worship communities across the region celebrate their main festivals during two distinct phases within the annual production cycle: either during the seventh to ninth lunar months of the pre-harvest/harvest period; or during the period between the tenth and second lunar months of the post-harvest winter period. Compared with this, the Chocha-ngacha language communities along the Kuri Chu’s west bank who lack any hereditary profile all celebrate their festivals between the fourth to sixth months, during the growing season. Another marked deviation of this cluster of communities is that, compared with the relative internal uniformity of ritual practice found within other linguistically defined sub-regions of the cult’s occurrence, among this Chocha-ngacha cluster there is a very high diversity of ritual practice, rites and narratives in use. In Metsho Gewog, the Habon followed the same pattern and texts found in the Khoma valley and Kurtö, while close-by in neighbouring Jaray Gewog a less sophisticated festival type with mixed elements is used, and anywhere south in Tsamang Gewog and Saleng Gewog we find versions of the Kharpu festival

found in Kheng are practiced. These examples of significant empirical divergence from all other communities and subregions of the cult strongly suggest this cluster of Tibetic language communities inherited Srid-pa’i lha worship via a number of different contact events, such as localised micro-migrations or uxorilocal marriages, involving various neighbours in several directions. Together with their lack of any of the three hereditary profiles on map 11, this evidence indicates Chocha-ngacha speakers were not among the pioneer communities whose migrant ancestors initially brought the ‘bon’-identified, Tibetan Plateau aspects of the cult into the Himalayas, and first spread it across the region. And here it can be noted there are no origin narratives directly or indirectly indicating that Shar Dung migrants descended from lHo-brag via the Kuri Chu river route into Kurtö, even though it would have been seasonally possible for them to do so. The surviving origin narratives in the Rgyal rigs and the Lha’i gsung rabs either directly identify or imply that Shar Dung migrants rather used every other logical route adjacent to their territory to travel southwards (map 9), while they avoided the upper Kuri Chu valley. Another insoluble problem is that the history and prehistory of the Chocha-ngacha speakers remains particularly opaque. Reference to the area where this language group is settled, or to their communities, is simply absent from most of our oldest historical sources, almost as if these areas were deserted until more recent centuries. Finally, we can note that the entire regional distribution of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, with the hereditary identities present in its communities plotted on map 11, spreads out like a pair of wings around either side of a blank central region. That central region is inhabited by the bulk of Tshangla speaking communities. This again underlines the fact that – the few explainable exceptions aside – worshippers in the cult were fundamentally unrelated to Tshangla speakers in terms of deeper ancestral connections and socio-cultural profiles. While all groups throughout the region, regardless of background, could easily and certainly did become converted to the universal, missionary religion of Tibetan Buddhism, their underlying and ancient ethnolinguistic differences are more strongly brought to light by whatever non-Buddhist cultural heritages they each maintain.

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Tibetan Plateau Dung and the Mon Clans The reading of map 11 summarises both a conclusion and a fundamental question that much of this chapter informed and reinforced. I conclude that worship of Srid-pa’i lha across the majority of the cult’s distribution, in the complex form we find it today, was strongly related to the arrival of the Shar Dung into the Himalayas, and to the further spread of their Himalayan gDung descendants, as well as to those who forged certain forms of affinal relations with them. The fundamental question is this: If the more formalised ‘bon’-identified myths and rites present in the cult have attested southern Tibetan Plateau origins, and were transmitted via Shar Dung migrants, then what of all the other significant cultural materials within the cult that are not attested upon the Plateau? Examples of this material would include: 1. The unique se/ce/zhe/zhi/chi/chis ‘ancestral deity’ category term (see chs. 3, 17). 2. The regionally important Gu ancestor-progenitor (i.e., Gu-se, Gurzhe, Gurushi, etc.) and similar beings whose written names include Chus-zhes, ’Thing-se-zhe, Tho’u-zhe, gNam-’dor-zhe, rNa’u-rje, Phong-phong-zhe, Mo-bzhe, and so on, all localised within Dzala and Dakpa speaking communities. 3. A sky world divided into eighteen levels. 4. The developed myth motif of flying bat and sheep go-betweens enabling flows of virility and fertility down from the sky world to the earth world. 5. R itual celebration of primordial blacksmiths and ironwork. 5. Nawan rites for ensuring vitality of game animals and hunters’ access to and harvest of them. 6. Sacrifice of domestic and wild goats to ancestral deities, and ritual use of their hair. 7. Communal ancestor worship performed in sacred groves. 8. A range of quite specific material culture attributes not known from Tibetan Plateau ritual cultures, including the ritual horn for calling ancestors, the single-sided ritual

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drum used by a shaman, the broad-brimmed shaman’s hat of felted wool, the ritual ladle, and so forth. Where did all of this content originate? Clues to begin addressing this question are found not only in the Lha’i gsung rabs and in the correlations of data I have been making in this chapter, but also throughout the ethnographies in volume I. The first set of clues can be summarised as follows. The cult in its most sophisticated forms is overwhelmingly a hereditary legacy among peoples speaking East Bodish languages in the northern valleys of the research region, but predominantly speakers of Dakpa and Dzala, Kurtöp and Bumthap. The Lha’i gsung rabs tells us that when Shar Dung clans named Khu, [b]Se-ru and gNam-sa migrated south, there were existing Himalayan peoples in these same northern valleys, and they worshipped zhe ‘ancestral deities’. I tentatively refer to these latter peoples as the Mon clans, some of whom we can trace far back in time as social identities, while others remain mostly shadowy. They include particularly the Na ancestors of the lHo clan, the lCang ancestors of the sNyags who are mentioned in older Tibetan sources and who appear to be the gTsang/rTsang of local Himalayan documents and social history, as well as the Mi/Mee and Ba/Ba-gi identities. All current evidence indicates these Mon clans as already settled within, and representing even earlier migrants into, the interface zone of northern Himalayan valleys and southernmost Tibetan Plateau margins in the research region. Their identities and traces today are spread most strongly throughout the zone of Dakpa and Dzala speakers, as well as in a few peripheral groups within the sphere of historical influence of Dakpa and Dzala speakers. The second set of clues are a whole range of ethnographic indications that the non-Tibetan Plateau content of the cult has its closest cognates not only within parallel shamanic tradition complexes ranged along the extended eastern Himalayas, but most compellingly among Qiangic- and Naic speaking populations along the far south-eastern margins of the Tibetan Plateau. In the final two chapters, I will

R egiona l Or igins a nd Spr e a d of the Cult – The M igr a nt Legacy

now attempt to demonstrate that these two sets of clues lead us back to a common origin. In chapter 17, I trace most of the highly unique ethnographic and linguistic aspects of the cult that are attributable to Mon clan identities directly back to populations speaking Qiangic and Naic languages along the south-eastern Tibetan Plateau margins. Following in chapter 18, I will do the same with some of their social identities, and consider what other likely traces of an older east to west diffusion of ancestral populations we can still discern to support the overall hypothesis.

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17.

Ancient Roots to the East

17.1 Hypothesis

17.2 Comparisons

My fourth hypothesis explores still further back in time, and farther away in space, from the fourteenth century migrations out of southernmost Tibet into neighbouring Himalayan valleys discussed in the previous chapter. It proposes that an earlier population stratum sharing common ancestral roots with Qiangic and Naic speaking peoples along the south-eastern Marches of the Tibetan Plateau system was once established in the series of parallel highland valleys of what is today far north-eastern Bhutan and parts of the adjacent Mon-yul Corridor in India. This population stratum does not have a name since its existence lies beyond the reach of our sources, nor can it be easily identified with any one ethnic identity or group of speakers of a single language today. We can gain glimpses of it in certain older social identities I have grouped under the designation Mon clans. The fourth hypothesis is addressed as an experiment in “trans-Himalayan ethnography”.1 I do this by way of a series of comparisons focussed upon complementary bodies of empirical evidence, including the domains of language, ritual practice, material culture and social identities, and set out in this and the following chapter. The Srid-pa’i lha cult, and what appear to be its oldest worship communities, share the most detailed and widest variety of cognates and parallels across these domains with populations today known as the Qiang and Naxi, and some of their closely related neighbours. These peoples are all settled between 800-1000 kilometres farther eastwards in the hill regions of western Sichuan and north-west Yunnan. The hypothesis is the only way I can reasonably explain the results of the comparisons, while the results themselves appear to offer a strong demonstration of the hypothesis.

Throughout the book so far, in both the main text and its annotations, I have pointed out a series of ideas, patterns and practices maintained by communities participating in the Srid-pa’i lha cult for which we find parallels or cognates in the premodern and more recent ritual cultures and languages of Naxi and Qiang societies. Fundamentally, they all share a common cosmological acknowledgment of a divisible and mobile vitality principle as the basis for human life. They also recognise ancestral progenitors in the sky or ‘heaven’ above who are the sources of cyclic revitalisation of human descent groups by way of calendric festivals. Many aspects of myths and rites underpinned by these concepts are closely similar, if not virtually identical, across these populations. For example, the Srid-pa’i lha cult’s ’O-de Gung-rgyal and the Naxi Ô-gkò-âw-gkò as identities of prime movers of phenomenal existence both share much in common, as do the clever messenger bats sGam-chen Pha-wang and his Naxi counterpart Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr who are cosmic go-betweens. These bats both represent the functions of a shamanic ritual specialist, and are thus encoded within the material culture of both the bon shaman and the Naxi dtô-mbà. Moreover, both these types of hereditary ritual specialists offer sophisticated examples of the relatively rare ‘text-reading shaman’ while they use the same set of formal auxiliary beings, as well as sharing a unique ninefold paradigm for organising their rites. Across Naxi, Qiang and Srid-pa’i lha cult populations we also find a very similar set of basic rite techniques, as well as a common material culture of ritual, including use of the same types of drums, flat bells, yak horns, wooden or gourd ritual ladles, purifying plants, and so forth. One could easily extend this type of list even further.

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How are we to interpret this fairly extensive collection of parallels and cognates? Some instances, such as the occurrence of sophisticated text-reading shaman cultures in both the Srid-pa’i lha cult region and in north-western Yunnan, could reasonably be viewed as a coincidence of parallel developments. For example, they might be reflecting two purely local circumstances of innovation in which unscripted cultures encountered written Tibetan or other scripts at the times these different traditions arose. When confronted with similar cases, some scholars have already explained them by making appeals to a meta-level of “family resemblances”,2 and those that “evoke values that seem to belong to a common, Tibeto-Burman core.”3 Such assessments are understandable when one is dealing with isolated points only, or with rather ‘thin’ and mismatched data sets. Yet, these positions also ambiguously consign what are often compelling cognates and parallels to some amorphous and unexplainable, shared background, one for which deeper and more ancient connections are always simultaneously implied but left unaddressed. Moreover, any appeals to a “Tibeto-Burman core” open a Pandora’s Box containing hundreds of languages and the highly diverse societies and cultures who use them over a vast region, and about which we currently have patchy records at best. In the specific case of the Srid-pa’i lha cult and the peoples who maintain it, I consider we can move well beyond positing mere coincidence, or resorting to the shared ambient noise of a claimed, common Tibeto-Burman ethnolinguistic heritage. We can indeed offer very specific evidence of past ancestral connections between those distinct and known peoples maintaining the Srid-pa’i cult and the Naxi and Qiang populations in particular. The more detailed and unique comparative examples I will now lay out in this section are an attempt to do just that. The comparisons in this chapter have a particular focus. I utilise the same types of data for all the groups concerned. This comprises ethnographic reports and linguistic studies of societies who still exist in exactly the same regions they were originally observed in when those reports and studies were produced. However, there are three caveats. The first is that most material on Naxi and Qiang ritual life relevant for comparison is from the premodern era, and

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recorded between the 1920s and 1950s. This was just prior to the thoroughgoing transformations resulting from modern Chinese Communist state-building that caused local cultural practices to either cease, sharply decline or become significantly modified in response to – and in this latter case often via – complex later revivals related to modern, reified identities arising from the context of ethnic and national politics. Thus, the bulk of my comparative data on Qiang and Naxi practices was drawn from ethnographic and linguistic records of both populations as they were observed mainly during the pre-1950s period, albeit with one or two references to more recent studies involving reconstructions undertaken during the 1980s and 1990s.4 My own oral history interviews with elderly informants in east Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor allowed for detailed, multiple eye-witness reconstructions of past practices within the Srid-pa’i lha cult that date back reliably around half a century. Thus, in comparing my materials on the cult with reports on the premodern Naxi and Qiang there is an inevitable time different between the data sets. Nevertheless, it must be noted that no social forces even remotely like the type of massive and sustained, state-orchestrated intervention into communal social and cultural life imposed upon Naxi and Qiang since the 1950s had ever been experienced within the distribution zone of the Srid-pa’i lha cult up to the time of my field research. Thus, perhaps the data sets being used are more similar in certain respects than the time lag between them might suggest. A second caveat is that the regions in which the Naxi and Qiang settlement areas exist are multi-ethnic and multilingual zones conditioned by complex migrations, and they thus resemble my own field research region. Various individual features highlighted in my comparative exercise can also be found among other populations immediately adjacent to the Naxi and Qiang settlement zones. Examples include neighbouring Pumi and Nuosu (Yi) groups respectively north-east and east of the Naxi area, and Qiangic speaking groups in far western Sichuan (i.e., rGyal-rong and Khams areas) located south-west and west of the main Qiang region in the Min Shan and Qionglai ranges. For present purposes, I only rarely cite accessible examples from these neighbouring groups. Far more research would be

A ncient Roots to the East

required to further map the exact boundaries of occurrence for each item of comparison. The final caveat is that, while I have collected data on the Srid-pa’i lha cult from a wider region, in most cases below I will more narrowly focus upon materials from Dzala and Dakpa speaking communities, and in some cases their cultural-historical descendants who acquired a different language due to migration and resettlement. Strong correlations with Naxi and Qiang materials occur particularly for these two closely related East Bodish language communities, who represent the oldest ‘core’ communities in the cult and who preserve its most sophisticated rites and narratives. Furthermore, within the geographical and culturalhistorical range of Dzala and Dakpa speakers, there are also veritable ‘hotspots’ for comparison, which I will even more carefully focus upon in certain cases below.

17.3

Linguistic Traces in Social and Cultural Context

In the ritual terminology associated with the Srid-pa’i lha cult, there is very specific evidence indicating linguistic survivals or traces from languages belonging to the Qiangic and Naic subgroups of Tibeto-Burman.5 These languages include that used by Naxi ritual specialists and recorded in their pictographic texts, also Northern and Southern Qiang, forms of Rgyalrongish, as well as Muya ref lected in historical data. The survivals or traces in the cult I want to demonstrate all exist within a current environment in which the primary liturgical language is Classical Tibetan. This ritual language is overwhelmingly influenced by various spoken languages from the East Bodish group, and to a very much lesser degree by Tshangla, Tibetic Chochangacha and several unclassified languages or dialects in the so-called Kho-Bwa cluster. Moreover, use of this ritual language is virtually exclusive to a highly conservative social and cultural domain focussed upon ancestors, and in which the participation of ritual actors is primarily defined by descent. Three types of examples revealing traces of some Qiangic and Naic background in the language of the Srid-pa’i lha

cult can be offered here. The first, concerning ‘ancestral’ terminology and identities, represents what appear to be more directly preserved cognates from Qiangic and Naic languages. The second, regarding gendered, paired terms for vitality/fertility concepts, concerns translations into Classical Tibetan which preserve the same semantically related and gendered pairings found in the assumed source language but not found in Tibetic languages. The third type of example bridges the first two, and concerns a term related to vitality that occurs as a concept in myths and rites, as well as in ancestral identities. Additionally, the ritual language of the cult contains certain unusual forms of invocation chanted during rites that apparently have cognates chanted in the parallel cultural context during Naxi rites in the ritual language of the dtô-mbà. It should be noted that I am not attempting - nor am I trained - to offer any scholarly linguistic analysis in this section. Rather, my overall goal is a detailed accounting of the parallel social and cultural contexts in which the sampled words are embedded, applied and meaningful in order to provide a crucial component of the analysis of words which appear, at least on the face of it to a non-linguist, to be in some way closely related as cognates, survivals, translations, and so forth. Thus, single units of linguistic data are only being considered here as parts of much greater socio-cultural ensembles set out in this chapter and elsewhere throughout the book. While one can anticipate a variety of linguistic explanations for why two words from different, geographically distant languages now appear to be similar or even identical, such explanations cannot address all the other cognate socio-cultural data that is intimately bound up with the words. To my present knowledge, linguists have only just begun to systematically compare East Bodish languages with those in the Qiangic and Naic grouping. Whenever they may do so, the chances are they might fail to detect most of the examples of words from the cult that I am putting forward in this section. This is because of the highly specialised and temporally restricted domain of usage of the ritual vocabulary in question. Any researcher would have to possess a working knowledge of the relevant, locally spoken languages, then at least target several Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals – which often nowadays are staged only once every two years

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‘Ancestral Deity’ Word

T

Srid-pa’i lha cult site occurrence of ‘ancestral deity’ word

I

( C

H

B I

N

E

A )

Tamshul

Kula Kangri

T

Yarlha Shampo

Gathang Bumpache

B

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T

A

K h om a ch u

Drushul

N

Tsona

Kangtö

M O N

g chu olon Kh

ar ch u

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kh

Sh e r e c hu

m

Thimphu

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Ja

Trongsa

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L H O D R A K

Tawang

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Dr a n

u ng ch

gm

a ch

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Dirang

Mongar M

an

gd

0

15

30

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ARUNACHAL PRADESH

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60 km

for periods of a few days only – to intensively sample their specialist terminology in detail. They must then be able to take full account not only of the hybrid written language in bon shaman manuscripts, but also be familiar with the historical forms of both Old and Classical Tibetan which have shaped the oral and written texts in use by bon shamans today. Similar challenges exist for systematic research on the ritual language found in Naxi pictographic texts and orally transmitted by a small group of trained, hereditary dtô-mbà ritual specialists in Naxi society. In addition to terms from the Srid-pa’i lha cult sampled below, there might be other potential linguistic traces reflecting some shared background between languages like Dakpa

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I

N

D

I

A

é Map 12. Regional distribution of the se/ce/zhe/zhi/chi/chis ‘ancestral deity’ word.

and Dzala and those in the Qiangic and Naic groupings, instances which are not always so easily explained merely by a common Tibeto-Burman heritage. An interesting example is found in the word for ‘moon’, which in Dzala is ’lé and Dakpa lé,6 and which appears fairly divergent in its regional surroundings. Alexis Michaud investigated what he called “strange cases” of words occurring in conservative Naxi dtô-mbà pictographic texts that are unintelligible to contemporary Naxi speakers. The word ‘moon’ in dtômbà texts is one such strange case. Naxi ritual specialists

A ncient Roots to the East

trained in use of the pictographic texts learn that ‘moon’ is spoken le ┘ (extra low tone) while in colloquial Naxi ‘moon’ is he⫞ me⫞ (mid-tone). Michaud compared ‘moon’ words in the two other Naish languages, Yongning Na and Laze, and concluded that le ┘ for moon in the ritual language is of some antiquity, and that it “has disappeared from colloquial Naxi whereas it has been preserved in the language of rituals.” 7 Among those Qiangic languages of interest in the present context, we also find Qiang lə̀ (Mianchi) and lə̀ ɕuà (Longxi), Muya l e̱ ⁵³ nə̱ ⁵³, and Tangut lhjị and lhow ‘moon’ words.8 Another purely colloquial example is the word for ‘sheep’, which in East Bodish languages is found as jo or yo (Khengkha), jòʔ ~ jó: (Kurtöp) or yeng ~ jeng (Dzala/Dakpa). Like Dzala and Dakpa ‘moon’, East Bodish ‘sheep’ words appear divergent in the wider regional context. Yet, we find they are closely cognate with Qiang ió (Longxi) or ioú (Mianchi) for ‘sheep’, and spoken Naxi yü.9 Another curious example is found in archaic names for a type of wild goat or sheep occurring in old manuscripts recording ritual narratives from around the interface between lHo-brag and north-eastern Bhutan where East Bodish languages like Dzala and Dakpa are spoken. In the eleventh century Sha slungs manuscript from somewhere within this Himalayan-Tibetan Plateau interface region (appx. J), there is a painted illustration of a wild ungulate which is morphologically identical to a Tibetan gazelle (pl. 296). This animal is identified as being significant to the rite described in the text, and is classified as a nyi gri in the Classical Tibetan inscription accompanying the painting. In the undated but no doubt very old Lha’i gsung rabs manuscript from adjacent far north-east Bhutan analysed in the previous chapter, we find the name no’u ge for a wild goat species intended to be used in a rite. There are no known cognates for such an animal name in any spoken languages around the wider region, nor in written forms of Tibetan. Yet, further along the extended eastern Himalayas, where Qiangic and Naic languages are spoken, we find clear cognates for these terms, albeit nowadays applied to domestic goats and sheep rather than wild ones. For example, Qiang (Mawo) has ȵu as generic ‘goat’ and ‘sheep’ words, and ȵu wɛ ʴ for ‘sheep’, and Lizu (i.e., western Ersu) has ȵu33 gi53 for ‘sheep’, while Bai dialects have ȵo21 and ɲo42 as generic ‘goat’ and ‘sheep’ words.10

A thorough comparison of these languages might possibly be a worthwhile exercise from the perspective of historical linguistics, yet it very likely would not directly address the claim I am making in this section, namely that specific cognates exist and have been preserved within a constrained and conservative cultural domain of rites addressed to lifegiving ancestors. I consider we have rich evidence of preservation of terminology occurring over time and travelling far within such inherently conservative ritual systems, whereas other linguistic relationships may no longer be apparent. Moreover, there is another important cultural factor contributing to conservatism and closely associated with the cult of Srid-pa’i lha within the research region, namely use of written texts. We know with certainty from analysis of the Rnel dri ’dul ba, Sha slungs and Ste’u manuscripts in relation to bon shaman texts that transmission of ritual terminology, mythical identities and real names via the written medium of Tibetan orthography and a regional manuscript culture has been occurring for at least a millennium within a zone approximately 100 kilometres in diameter and encompassing nearly every site the cult occurs at. The wider region is full of examples of this same conservative mechanism. For instance, spoken Tibetan remains peppered today with all sorts of vocabulary from Indian languages originally introduced during the eighth and ninth centuries, and preserved in written textual cultures, for example dharma for ‘Buddhist teachings’, Ut pa la for the ‘blue lotus’ flower, ’Dzam-[bu-]gling meaning ‘the world’ (cf. Sanskrit Jambudvīpa), In dra ni la for ‘sapphire’, somewhat less obvious bram ze for ‘brahmin’, and so forth. Since the myths and rites of bon shamans are preserved in and transmitted via written texts, this factor must not be underestimated in conserving a whole range of very old words and proper names within the cultural domain that is my focus herein.

Ancestral Terminology and Identities Here I further consider the spoken se/ce/zhe/zhi/chi/chis ‘ancestral deity’ category term introduced in chapter 3 as a unique classificatory suffix. There I also gave its local written forms in Tibetan orthography, along with the origins of the widespread name Gu-se/Gurzhe and other more

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locally used Srid-pa’i lha names marked by the same classificatory suffix. Elsewhere, I have already presented detailed discussion of every known variant of this category term as it occurs in context across all relevant language communities within the research region. 11 The complete distribution of the suffix relative to Srid-pa’i lha cult sites is plotted on map 12. This category term is exclusive to sites maintaining the cultural pattern of ‘ancestor propitiation for revitalisation of descent groups’ represented in the cult, as well as a few derivative or analogous, local ritual phenomena in the southernmost Mon-yul Corridor. Concerning what this data demonstrates, there are several points to be reiterated here. Firstly, although the ‘ancestral deity’ category term has a wide distribution, it is primarily and most richly maintained among speakers of the northerly East Bodish languages Dzala and Dakpa, and only secondarily by those speakers of other languages who dwell further south and within the immediate socio-historical orbits of Dzala and Dakpa speaking societies. In the case of the more easterly distribution within the Mon-yul Corridor south of the Ze La pass, there are strong indicators of some past Dakpa speaking ancestry among those present-day Tshangla speakers in Dirang district who participate in the Srid-pa’i lha cult. There are also robust cultural-linguistic traces of Dakpa influence upon the Sherdukpen ritual culture related to ancestral and clan deities still further south. A north to south progression or diffusion appears strongly evinced. The more westerly distribution downstream along most of the west bank of the Kuri Chu valley is more difficult to explain with the available data, although traces of the ‘ancestral deity’ category term become increasingly weak as one moves southwards in that region, and away from the Dzala speaking zone. Not only does this indicate a north to south progression as found in the Mon-yul Corridor, it is the possible footprint of a migration. Secondly, it is noteworthy that all beings marked by the ‘ancestral deity’ category term are subject to a double classification. For example, if one attends a festival staged by Chocha-ngacha speakers, and hears the name ‘lha Gurzhe’ chanted in an oral ritual text, or reads lha Gur-bzhe written

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in the local manuscripts, this represents the being named Gu classed as both a lha of the upper world and an ‘ancestral deity’ here marked by spoken zhe and written bzhe. In Dirang district, among present-day Tshangla speakers, where the local variant of the ‘ancestral deity’ category term has the spoken form chis, festivals dedicated to such deities are colloquially referred to as chis, chisöshe or chisöwen, with the latter two variants generally meaning ‘propitiation of the chis’.12 Moreover, around Dirang there are simple stone slab altars termed (sa) narang, literally ‘(place to) rest on a journey’, located in the sacred groves beyond village precincts in which such festivals are celebrated. It is to these altars that the deities are conducted down from the sky along the vertical axis with a verbal ritual journey, to be hosted and addressed. During festivals, these altars are termed chis narang to be understood as meaning ‘resting place of the chis on the journey’. A chis being that is worshipped during a chisöshe festival can also be titled lha and the chisöshe event can thus be alternatively termed lhasöshe or ‘propitiation of the lha’, with these usages being interchangeable in colloquial speech. The same deities also have a parallel, local cosmological classification as phu (‘upland’),13 but it is very telling that this latter category name is never exchanged with chis in the manner that lha is. This classificatory doubling just described is found everywhere the word for ‘ancestral deity’ occurs. It is a strong indicator of how the whole cult of ancestral beings within the region has an older substratum, one whose traces are ref lected in se/ce/zhe/zhi/chi/chis, and which has been articulated with or overlaid by a later, more explicitly Tibetan substratum represented by lha or pho lha, as well as local categories like phu. Such co-classifications are best understood in this context as a residue of syncretic moments, when an integral and inherently conservative cult of ancestral deities was accommodated both with what was there before it arrived, and what came along later in its wake. Beyond the communities and their languages within the research region, I have been unable to identify convincing cognates for the ‘ancestral deity’ category term in any other spoken languages within this general region of the eastern

A ncient Roots to the East

Himalayas. Similarly, there is nothing comparable in those Tibetan dialects spoken in immediately adjacent regions of the Plateau system to the north. Neither Old Tibetan 14 nor Classical Tibetan lexical funds offer anything cognate. This last result was the more surprising. Beyond consulting lexicons, for Tibetan sources I specifically investigated documents we know were composed or circulated in the southern Tibetan borderlands immediately north of the research region, as well as a range of narratives which are philologically proven to be in some way related to the cults of ’O-de Gung-rgyal, Gu-se and other deities worshipped in the Sridpa’i lha cult. A closely cognate term for ‘deity’ and ‘ancestral deity/being’, and one used as both a classificatory suffix on names and as a substantive, occurs in dialects of the Qiang language spoken in the Min Shan mountains, and associated river valleys, and nowadays divided into Northern Qiang and Southern Qiang. Interestingly, the word occurs there with a similar phonetic variation to that attested in data from my research area. Here one can usefully cite the early twentieth century observations by David Crockett Graham on the names for, and classification of, the major ancestral deity of premodern Qiang populations: [I]n nearly all communities he is called Mu-bya-sei, Mu-byei-sei, Mubya-shi, Mu-ta-be-ts’e, M-byei-sei, or Ma-byei-chi. Ch’i, sei, shi or ts’e means “god,” and the other two syllables mean “sky.” Literally it means sky god. At least at Mushang-chai, Lung-ch’i-chai, and Tung-men-wai, where Christian influence has been strong, he is called Abba Ch’i. Abba means “father” […] in most localities among the Ch’iang it may be used with any god, and is always applied to the male ancestor god, Abba Sei.15 In their transcriptions of, and notes on premodern Qiang ritual texts and rites, both Graham and his contemporary Hu Chien-Min recorded the names of dozens of individual Qiang deities bearing forms of this same ch’i/sei/shi/ts’e ‘deity’ or ‘god’ term/suffix. 16 The range of Qiang spoken forms and meanings noted by Graham, Hu Chien-min and Wen Yu 17 prior to the 1950s have all since been recorded by

modern linguists who more recently studied dialects spoken throughout the wider Min Shan region of Qiang settlement within western Sichuan. Randy LaPolla reported xsi ‘deity (family god)’ and khsi ‘god’ (conservative Mawo dialect), and xsǝ ‘god’ (Ronghong), while for ‘god’ Jonathan Evans’ data added tɕhʝ (Longxi), sé (Mianchi), tshie33 (Taoping) and khsie (Proto-Southern Qiang).18 Demonstrating that these Qiang terms for ‘deity’ and ‘ancestral deity’ are more than a coincidence in relation to the ‘ancestral deity’ word within the research area is not difficult using ethnographic data, as this and all the following examples within this chapter attest. If ‘ancestral deity’ terms from both eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor and the Qiang and Naxi settlement area represent true cognates that have survived through time from some common origins, we would expect common identities for ancestral beings to have also survived along with the classificatory terms. This is indeed what we find has happened.

Gu-se/Gurzhe The first strong candidate for comparison is the older written name Gu-se and its later variants from Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor, all literally meaning ‘Gu ancestral deity/ being’. This ancestral identity is the most widespread within the region, indicating that at some point during the past Gu must have been considered an important ancestor for the migrant peoples who carried his cult with them. Some descriptions of the Gu ancestor preserved in ritual texts for Srid-pa’i lha worship are highly evocative of Qiang ritual culture. For example, this is how he is described in chants from the Dzala speaking region: If we say that younger brother Gurzhe is a great and powerful lha, then we can say that he came from over yonder, from within the Dag-pa Tsho-gsum, carrying a liquor pot upon his back, cradling a chicken called Lab Zho-mo in his lap, driving an ox called rGyang Ta-la in front of him, and with the secret spell [named] Phig pa tshig gsum placed under his tongue.19

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A white-clad – as Gurzhe/Gu-se invariably is – Gu ancestor arriving from the east, carrying liquor, bringing the two sacrificial animals and his potent verbal ritual texts, is intended here to represent the mythical arrival of the cult into north-east Bhutan. Yet, the image strongly brings to mind all the ethnographic detail we know about the major premodern Qiang Paying the Vows ceremonies, in which chanting ritual specialists dressed in white hemp clothing led oxen to be sacrificed, along with chickens and pots of liquor that they carry to a sacred grove and offer with chanted ritual texts.20 According to origin narratives recorded during the early twentieth century among Northern and Southern Qiang speakers, Gu La (or Gula) was the identity of the old, ancestral Qiang themselves, at the time they migrated southwards down along the eastern Marches of the Tibetan Plateau system, to settle in their present territory of the Min Shan ranges.21 Additionally, Thomas Torrance recorded the name as Gkow-la-tsu for this early Qiang ancestor, with the –tsu element in Torrance’s transcription marking ancestral deity status. 22 Scholars of Qiang ritual and language also recorded the deity name Sh ǐ g ŭ tz è in the Zagunao River catchment.23 The name can be rendered as ‘Initial Gu Ancestor’. Its equivalent tɕí qù sè is used as a substantive to mean ‘ancestor’ in the southern Mianchi dialect of Qiang, and in which the initial t ɕí is semantically related to words for ‘start/begin’ or ‘first’ (= ‘one’), but also ‘son’. 24 This Qiang g ŭ tzè/qù sè form, with its shǐ/tɕí qualifier, is identical to the manner in which names of major ancestral Srid-pa’i lha are represented at the start of origin myths preserved in cult manuscripts from far north-east Bhutan. For example, we find [g]zhe Gur-zhe and bzhes me me (‘ancestor’) mTho’ubzhes, in which the initial [g/b]zhe[s] forms mean ‘ancient’ or refer to beginning times (cf. Old Tibetan and CT gzhe), something that is also found used in the same context in Old Tibetan myths.25 The above Qiang ‘ancestor’ terms and forms of the Gu mythological name do not only occur within the Min Shan ranges, but are found as well in other neighbouring or more distant areas where other Qiangic and related Naic languages are spoken today. The most striking example occurs in written Tibetan records of the already ‘deified’ name forms Gu-se or Gu-zi in parts of far eastern Tibet where Qiangic

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languages such as Muya/Munya/Mu-nya (earlier Minyak) are spoken further westwards of the Min Shan ranges where the Qiang g ŭ tzè/qù sè and Gkow-la-tsu forms exist.26 Further south, we find the term Ə⫞ si⫞ for ‘ancestor’ in Yongning Na, the Naxi dtô-mbà pictograph Rock transcribed as ssú is spoken si and refers to the ‘life god’ of a household kin group, and the Yongning Na (or Mosuo) term for ‘ancestor’ is se. 27 All are apparently cognates of Qiang ‘ancestor’ terms. The Qiang Gkow-la-tsu name is found conservatively preserved in Naxi dtô-mbà pictographic language as Gkâw-làts’ú’, to designate the apical ancestor of the four primordial Naxi clans, which are named Se, Ye, Ma and He.28 Common ancestral identities claimed by both Qiang and Naxi are not surprising. The Naxi are widely considered by outside observers to be migrants from the north, and at least in part to be descendants of an earlier Qiang ancestor population, perhaps via the Pumi and related groups. Of additional importance in the present context is the Naxi form Khu’-zá’. This occurs in the Naxi anthropogenic narrative within the Ts’ò mbêr ssáw ritual text used during Muân bpò’ or ‘Propitiation of Heaven’ ceremonies which so closely resemble Srid-pa’i lha festivals (see below). Khu’-zá’ is the name of the first human being who appears in the world by emerging out of a lake, after which successive human generations descend from him.29 In the old gDung origin narratives recorded during the late seventeenth century in east Bhutan, the ancestral sky deity Gu-se emerges out of a lake, causes a woman to become pregnant, with the human gDung lineages being eventual descendants of the son she bears.30 The myth motif and the name are identical. It is noteworthy that, along with Gu itself, these Qiang and Naxi Gkow/Gkâw/ Khu’ variants are also of interest within the Srid-pa’i lha cult research region in relation to the typical cultural domains for preservation of older ancestral identities. In addition to ancestor names within myths and clan names, these commonly include clan settlement area names, toponyms and hydronyms. A specific instance of the first type is the Khu clan whose ancestor deity is named Khu-brang-zhe. The first and last Khu-zhe elements are nearly homophonic with Khu’-zá’, while the [’]brang syllable placed between them means ‘to bring forth’ or ‘to give birth’. Concerning the second type, the parallel valleys in close proximity settled with Kurtöp, Dzala and Dakpa speakers offer many significant

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examples of settlement area names, toponyms and hydronyms containing Ku, Khu, Ko and Kho elements, including spoken Kuri, Khoma, Khomthing and Kholong.

Mo-bzhe Concerning further identities possibly shared between ancestral worship in eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor and among the Qiang, the name Mo-bzhe occurring in manuscripts from the Dakpa and Dzala speaking zone represents a strong candidate. Mo-bzhe, meaning the ‘Mo ancestral deity/being’, and spoken both Mobzhe and Mozhe, is female and can be compared with several Qiang ancestral names. Along with the Srid-pa’i lha cult communities and the Naxi, the premodern Qiang also had the same origin myth featuring primordial alliance between sky ancestral deities and human beings leading to the descent of social groups. In Qiang versions of the narrative, as recorded during the early twentieth century by Graham, the sky deity has three daughters. One of them is named Mu Tseh or Mu Je in the premodern transcriptions, or Mutsi in modern spoken Qiang. Mu Tseh descends to earth and marries a man, who at the time is the sole human being then in existence, after which she gives birth to a son and a daughter whom she leaves behind on earth when returning once again to dwell in the sky.31 Another interesting candidate for Mo-bzhe is the deity variously named Mu-bu-sei, Mu-bo-sei and Mo-bo-sei (even Mo-go-i-shi) in different Qiang dialects. In the East Bodish context, it is noteworthy that the intentional written spelling –bzhe adding the b prefix is consistently used for the Mo-bzhe name, which is not strictly the case in the names of other–zhe designated deities. This feature could be viewed as an attempt to encode –bu/-bo elements from an original Qiang name such as Mu-bu-sei, Mu-bo-sei or Mo-bo-sei, with this preserved in Mo-bzhe spoken Mobzhe. Graham identified this particular Qiang deity as ‘the fire god’. It has intimate ‘ancestral’ credentials within the domestic sphere, since this deity dwells directly at the main hearth place and is represented by one of the three hearthstones or tripod legs surrounding the fire place; the other two stones/legs are “A-ba-sei, the male ancestor, and A-ta-sei, the female

ancestor”.32 In fact, mú bò sè even means ‘hearth tripod’ in some Qiang dialects.33 There are also records of this deity being worshipped with a white rock,34 following the wellknown practice amongst both the Qiang and Naxi of using white rocks as cult objects representing deities, which I will address again below in more detail. Mo-bzhe, as a sky ancestor in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, is female like the Qiang’s Mu Tseh above, while Mu-bu-sei, Mu-bo-sei or Mo-bo-sei was recorded as ‘the fire god’ by Graham, which seems to imply he understood the latter identity to be male. The question of exact gender is not incidental when it comes to deities of fire and the hearth, and there is every chance that Mu-bu-sei, Mu-bo-sei, Mo-bo-sei was also female. The other two Qiang hearth deities are a pair of male and female sky ancestors, and this raises questions about the actual identity of the third, the fire deity. One can question whether this ‘fire god’ was always male amongst the premodern Qiang, or if it was even identified as male amongst all Qiang questioned by earlier researchers. Firstly, the ch’i/sei/shi/ts’e ‘deity’ term or suffix is not gender specific. It must also be recognised that the gender of key Qiang deities was interpreted differently from one community to the next – see the example of Yi-mu sei/Yu-mo-tze/Ü-mo below. Concerning fire, we do know that among other populations whom we can compare to the Qiang, and who also share a similar cosmology and shamanic tradition, fire deities related to the hearth place are frequently female. For instance, as I noted in chapter 3 the fire deities identified throughout the range of the Sridpa’i lha cult are all female when given an explicit gender, and are thus marked by the mo gender particle, while they are often assigned the kin status of ‘daughter’, ‘mother’ or ‘grandmother’ in myths. Female identified fire is also found in Naxi myths and rites,35 while evidence for it exists among the Ersu.36 Across Qiang dialects, a whole range of overlapping mǝ , mu, mú, mù, m-u/i syllables occur in words for ‘sky’, ‘fire’, ‘hearth tripod’ and ‘old woman’.37 Parallel to that, and representing the same pattern, there are Naxi mî and mí for ‘fire’, ‘girl’, ‘daughter’ and ‘goddess’, along with their pictographs being interchangeable in the ritual texts of dtômbà.38 While purely linguistic features might inform some of this material, deeply rooted cultural interpretations can never be ruled out in considering how words are formed, accumulate meanings and are deployed.

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rMa g.Yu-mo As noted in chapter 3, the Srid-pa’i lha name rMa g.Yu-mo belongs to a female cha/pcha (written phya) ancestress worshipped in upper Kurtö. rMa is both an attested ancestral identity associated with earlier Qiangic speaking peoples and an autonym of the contemporary Qiang, and will be discussed further in the following chapter. The g.Yu-mo name is closely cognate with that of one of the twelve lesser Qiang deities associated with the household. Depending upon local dialect, premodern Qiang called this deity Yi-mu sei, Yu-mo-tze or Ü-mo (i.e., Graham’s y2 mo2 with two low tone syllables). According to Graham, localised interpretations of this and other deities in the set of twelve lesser deities can vary or are sometimes even exchanged. He recorded of Yi-mu sei at Ho-p’ing-chai that, “She gives sons, protects women after they have conceived and during childbirth, and protects children”, and this deity is among those first invoked to come to the altar for worship during the “Paying the Great Vows” ceremony staged in the sacred grove by the Qiang shaman.39 For Ü-mo at Lo-pu-chai Graham recorded the deity being “male, who helps obtain numerous descendants.”40 At Hsing-shang-chai, Chinese scholar Hu Chien-min recorded Ü-mu as being the deity of “Ancestors (ancestors of the family)”.41 Local variations of detail aside, the common ritual identity of this ubiquitous and important Qiang deity is as the key promoter of human fertility, if not a progenitor, and closely identified with ancestors. This is precisely the ritual identity of rMa g.Yu-mo as a Srid-pa’i lha within the cult, when she is invoked to come to the altar in a cult festival. The same name in the form Yu-mo is common as an identity for the female hearth deity who is an ancestor in cult worship communities throughout the research region (see ch. 3).

Ri-bu-mo Another convincing example is Ribumo (written Ri-bu-mo), who is regarded as a female sibling of all the male -zhe classed ‘ancestral deities’ in the same area of the upper Khoma Chu valley. While her male siblings are all sky deities, she is related to the earth, game animals and areas of cliff and forest.

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Along with Gurzhe, she receives the sacrifice of a wild goat in the sacred grove of Kupilang at Tsango at the end of the lunar year. We can recall here that both premodern Qiang Paying the Vows festivals and their probable descendant rites in the Naxi Muân bpò’ ceremonies featured worship of male sky deities and female earth deities with goat sacrifice, and Ribumo’s identity at Tsango strongly suggests the latter in relation to her male sky siblings such as Gurzhe. Among the premodern Qiang, David Crockett Graham identified “Ru-be-sei who controls the earth and the soil, causes rain and good crops, protects people from illness and other calamities, and helps them. At least in some localities this is a female deity.”42 Graham also presented an illustration of a shrine from a Qiang shaman’s divination manual depicting icons of the male sky deity and female earth deity side by side in the uppermost, central position. He noted that this same deity pair were annually promised a sacrifice together in the sacred grove on the fifteenth day of the first moon, in return for powers of production, protection and prosperity over the coming year, with the vow later being redeemed during the “great ceremony” named “paying the vows”. 43 This describes exactly what takes place at Tsango when the sky deity Gurzhe and the earth deity Ribumo are worshipped during the Lhamoche festival. Hu Chien-min identified the Qiang deity Rü-bü-tzè as either a ‘god’ or a ‘goddess’ of the earth, and found this deity to be important enough to be among those represented by white cult rocks commonly placed in sets upon the roofs of premodern Qiang houses and shrines and regularly worshipped. 44 The same premodern practice of using white rocks is widely reported for the Naxi, and also the Nuosu (see below). All these groups also set up the cut branches of different tree species for the same purpose during rites, to represent the deities. At the Lhamoche festival in the upper Khoma Chu valley, Ribumo the female earth deity is represented by a line of seven cut branches of bamboo planted in the earth (pl. 107). During premodern Naxi Muân bpò’ ceremonies, the earth regarded as man’s mother-in-law was represented by the cut branch of an oak planted into the earth, as well as by a white rock, 45 while in premodern Nuosu rites three bamboo branches were planted into the earth instead of three cult rocks during rites.46 Hu Chien-min also

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identified a likely related – by way of local interpretations – Qiang deity named Ru-bou-tze as the “God of Deep Cliff”, and whose name is also associated with trees and rivers in an origin myth. All of this seems to relate to Ribumo’s profile at Tsango as well. 47 The identity “ru-bu (earth)” is also given – along with “sky” and “clear division between black and white” – as the trio of symbolic references for the three points atop the monkey skin headdress worn by the Qiang shaman (pls. 234, 235, fig. 39), to be discussed below. 48

Tho’u-zhe Finally, we can mention Tho’u-zhe (also mTho’u-bzhe, bsDo-bzhi or lDa’u-bzhi), the ‘Tho’u ancestral deity/being’, who is next in importance after ’O-de Gung-rgyal and Gurzhe at many sites in far north-eastern Bhutan and parts of the northern Mon-yul Corridor. His identity is most significant in ritual texts and rites from the Khoma Chu and upper Kholong Chu river valleys, and across into parts of Tawang. His profile encompasses multiple roles. Tho’u-zhe is regarded as the apical ancestor of bone-sharing clan groups (rus tsho) descended from the thirteenth or eighteenth level of the sky world, and his common title is thus me me (or mes mes) ‘ancestor-progenitor’, as well as the hereditary auxiliary-ancestor of some bon shaman lineages (see ch. 5). For this latter role, we find shamans’ auxiliaries with the same identity among other highland populations further east who appear to be residues of older migrant groups linking north-west Yunnan and eastern Bhutan. The Tho’u-zhe/ bsDo-bzhi/lDa’u-bzhi name can be compared with a very common Qiang deity, the name for whom Graham recorded as Do-dzu-sei (also Do-ndzu-sei). This deity was identified as the “door god […] who keeps demons out of homes” during premodern times.49 Gu, and the Qiang and Naxi ancestor and deity identities just surveyed are not the only ones we can link with the Srid-pa’i lha cult. In chapter 3 (cf. appx. L), I already signalled that the unusual ’o- element in ’O-de Gung-rgyal and other early myth references likely relates to cognates in Naic and Qiangic languages, and this will be considered below.

Terms for Vitality My data revealed paired and gendered virility and fertility concepts to represent the revitalisation whose source is the ancestral realm of the Srid-pa’i lha in the sky. This pair of terms, male tshe and female g.yang, are represented using Tibetan vocabulary. Yet, the explicit meanings of male ‘virility’ (tshe) and female ‘fertility’ (g.yang) used in the Srid-pa’i lha cult are not associated with those words in Tibetan ritual contexts. These two words are in fact used in parallel in non-cult contexts in the same linguistic environments with their more conventional Tibetan range of meanings. It appears that these paired Tibetan terms had once been employed to translate paired, gendered concepts with the same meaning from an older vocabulary now redundant and lost. We find exact mythical, ritual and semantic parallels for the paired, gendered vitality terms tshe and g.yang within the folk rites and shamanic dtô-mbà culture of the Naxi. In that latter context, the pair of nnù’ as ‘male semen’ and ò as ‘female generative fluid’ are the fertilising life powers which must be brought down from the ancestral realm of the sky above in order to revitalise life on earth. Not only do the pair nnù’ and ò feature constantly in Naxi dtô-mbà myths, they are also invoked during common rites involving fertility, such as marriage. For example, during Naxi wedding rites, when the bridal party first arrive at the groom’s home, part of the myth of anthropogenesis is chanted at the door of the main room of the house where the protagonists gather: Ts’ò-zâ’-llú’-ghû’gh (the pre-flood ancestral hero of the Naxi) comes down from the heavens bearing a silver steelyard. He comes to open up the heavens. Ts’á’-khù’-bû-bù mí (Ts’ò’s celestial bride) comes down from the heavens, holding in her hand a golden steelyard. She intends to lay out the earth. They have brought the nnù’ and ò.50 Exactly like the paired and gendered tshe and g.yang terms in Srid-pa’i lha worship, the gendered pair of nnù’ and ò have parallel meanings related to individual male and female fertility, as well as the material realm of positive increase, as ‘good fortune’ and ‘wealth’, respectively.51 Citing a range of

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Naxi informants, the leading scholar of Naxi life concepts and deities, Yang Fuquan, reported: [...] nnù’ and ò, sometimes termed nôn-ò, may be summarized as comprising all kinds of good luck, such as male and female reproductive capacity, increase in numbers of persons, wealth, family property and other forms of prosperity and good fortune, even including individual wisdom and experience [...] Rock explains these terms as “male seminal ejaculations and female vaginal emissions”.52 These paired, gendered concepts lay at the very heart of what many observers see as the oldest aspect of Naxi ritual culture, the Muân bpò’ ‘Propitiation of Heaven’ or ‘Sacrifice to Heaven’ ceremony. In his thoroughgoing study of Muân bpò’, Charles McKhann observed that “Sacrifices to Obtain nnù’ (semen/good fortune) and ô (vaginal f luid/ wealth)” constitute a general class of Naxi rites, although “None of these is accorded the same import as the Sacrifice to Heaven.” 53 Naxi Muân bpò’ rites and the myths underpinning them, and all we know of Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals, are in fact highly cognate traditions, and I will compare them in detail in the following section on Ritual Practices. The ritual and mythical importance of the term ’o as a vitality concept, and especially one associated with the sky and encoded in the identities of the principal progenitor lha, has already been discussed in chapters 3 and 14. While ’o as a vitality concept is of importance within the cult, beyond this context it appears there are only older traces of the same set of associations to be found in Tibetan Plateau cultural history, and there are also clues that ’o may have even been a non-Tibetan reference. This last possibility is what I will now systematically investigate, because the trail of ’o concepts and identities leads directly back to the Naxi and some speakers of Qiangic languages. What follows is a sampling of the meanings of o words in both a Naic and in a Qiangic language that have been readily accessible to me. My presentation is not intended to emulate rigorous linguistic research, rather to demonstrate that both the cognate semantics and the cultural contexts of occurrence of the words I sample have a strong coherency, and one that

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can be compared with certain other cultural and linguistic contexts, such as the Tibetan milieu. All o/’o words and names discussed in this section, along with samples from Tibetan, are tabulated with their sources in appendix L. The Naic and Qiangic languages easily accessible to me for comparison are premodern Naish or Naxi occurring as a ritual language in written pictographic and phonetic forms in the texts of dtô-mbà ritual specialists, and the bTsan-lha (Shaojin) variant of Rgyalrongish. In Naxi ritual texts, simple o words transcribed as ó, ò, ô and cognate ho in Joseph Rock’s A Na-khi – English Encyclopedic Dictionary 54 all have meanings related to core concepts of origins, vitality or life, and fertility and its transmission through time in terms of descent. For example, we find words meaning ‘soul’ (ó, ô), ‘bone (i.e., as a vector of descent)’ (ô), ‘clan (i.e., meaning people of one bone for Naxi)’ (ô), ‘female [sexual] emissions’ (ò), and ‘male semen’ and ‘the spirit of semen’ (hó). Ô also means ‘deity/deities’ (see below). Both ó and ô also mean ‘precious’ and ‘wealth in objects’. In terms of Naxi ritual culture, the related ó can mean ‘turquoise’, and also ‘to protect’. The turquoise is a repository for protection of the mobile vitality principle or ‘soul’ in most regions of the greater Tibetan Plateau system, while the dtô-mbà pictograph for ‘turquoise’ can be used for ‘soul’, the two individual pictographs being nearly identical.55 Moreover, ò means ‘shadow (i.e., as the virtual replica of a thing/being)’ which also is closely related in common thinking to the departed soul of a person. In addition to the generally cognate spectrum of o concepts listed above, the term is carried over into identities in the same manner as we find in Old Tibetan materials, later Classical Tibetan references and in the myths and rites of the cult. In relation to life’s origins in Naxi cosmology, Ô alone stands for the supreme deity Ô-gkò-âw-gkò who was the first cause of phenomenal existence.56 Moreover, in Naxi cosmogonic narratives, at the beginning of creation, after a chicken has laid nine pairs of eggs, the third pair yields Ô and Hà, the male and female auxiliary spirits. We also find that the Naxi place named O-yü (sometimes transcribed by Rock as Ò’-yú’ or Ò-yû’) holds a special significance for ideas about origins.57 Finally, the name O-yü for a place of

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origin occurs in a Naxi myth concerning the origin of the horse chanted at funerals. That Naxi narrative exhibits multiple parallels with the Old Tibetan document PT 1060 and the ’O gnyen rabs both analysed in chapter 14 in relation to the myth and rites involving ’o gnyen.58 As in Naxi ritual language, in languages of the Qiangic branch called Rgyalrongish we also find a range of ’o-based words of interest. For example, in colloquial bTsan-lha (Shaojin) transcribed in Tibetan script, we find ‘origin/ source/root’ (’o ma mo), ‘reason [i.e., in a causal sense]’ (’o ched), ‘nourishment’ (’o bcud), ‘real/true/genuine’ (’o sto), ‘excellent [in terms of quality]’ (’o ngar), and ‘value/price’ (’o gong, ’o phu).59 Thus, the semantic range of these Rgyalrongish ’o-based words exhibits highly positive connotations in terms of conceptions of origin, essence, quality and value which overlap meaningfully with many of the examples above. What could all these Naic and Qiangic vocabulary items possibly represent in relation to both the Srid-pa’i lha cult and the older Tibetan references discussed in chapter 3? Given their occurrence in the cult, together with so many other indicators of a shared ancestral heritage encompassing speakers of Naic and Qiangic languages discussed throughout this chapter, my instinct is to consider all these generally cognate ’o/o vocabularies to be a relic of their common heritage at some time during the distant past. Certain proper names in Naxi myths, such as Ô-gkò-âw-gkò and O-yü (or Ò-yû’), do appear related to older Tibetan ’O identities in myths, such as ’O-yul and the ’O-[l]de deities, perhaps via oral and written textual transfers which occurred from Tibetans to Naxi at some stage during the past. There is other evidence of Tibetan cultural inf luence upon the Naxi. But influences can easily move in both directions, as well as become reintroduced and absorbed back into a parent environment out of which they were originally transferred. We simply cannot know the possible dynamics with the sources we currently have available for that context.

Be all that as it may, it would certainly not account for the otherwise rich o vocabulary defining vitality, fertility and origins also existing in Naxi, nor for the generally cognate o vocabulary in bTsan-lha Rgyalrongish, and possibly also in other neighbouring Qiangic languages I have been unable to sample to date.

Ceremonial Group Identities In chapter 11, we saw that a special technical term, tsheshomba, literally meaning ‘life/vitality basket’, can be used to designate each ceremonial group during Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Socially, the term designates agnatic units within the specific clans who participate in such festivals, and is thus a collective of living persons who ‘share the same bone’ as the vector of patrilineal descent. The same term also designates the physical basket used by the ceremonial group to transport and offer hulled, cooked rice at the altar to the ancestorprogenitor deities. In the Naxi Muân bpò’ or ‘Propitiation of Heaven’ ceremony, which is highly cognate with Srid-pa’i lha festivals (see below), the ‘basket’ as both social identity and material object also features in exactly the same manner. Here, as in the example of paired and gendered virility and fertility concepts cited above, we are seeing some form of linguistic and cultural translation, rather than any phonetically evident linguistic survival. In the Naxi context, the ceremonial groups or ‘factions’ involved in Muân bpò’ used almost identical physical baskets in the same manner for their offerings of hulled, cooked rice at the altar. The term for ‘basket’ is dt`v and the pictograph used in Naxi ritual texts is a basic basket-shape (fig. 31, left frame). Of greater interest is the same pictograph and word for ‘basket’ occurring in the name of the bone-sharing ceremonial faction named

ê Figure 31. Naxi pictographs for ‘basket’ dt`v (l.) and for the P’ú-dt`v (r.) bone-sharing ceremonial ‘faction’ performing Muân bpò’.

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P’ú-dt`v (fig. 31, right frame) whose members perform Muân bpò’. The principal ethnographers of Muân bpò’ have reported the importance Naxi attached to the P’ú-dt`v (or Pvdvq) and their name. For example, Charles McKhann stated: According to one commonly held theory, the Pvdvq faction is the oldest, and dates to the earliest period of Naqxi history, when they are thought to have lived as transhumant pastoralists in the high mountains somewhere to the north, in present day Qinghai or north-western Sichuan Province. The other factions are said to have developed later, as descendant branches moved to lower elevations and established fixed settlements and sedentary agriculture. Differences in the pictographs for the names of the four main factions would seem to support some kind of division along these lines, if not necessarily the history attributed to it. The pictograph for “Pvdvq” is a likeness of the basket used for offering grain in the sacrifice to Heaven. The basket design is said to have been developed during the transhumant period with a mind to carrying the ancestors’ limited supplies of grain when moving between herding camps. The first term in each of the other faction names, “qv”, means “egg” – a term linking the names to the Naqxi cosmogony.60

Chant Language During Srid-pa’i lha rites, at certain points a variety of invocations are chanted aloud by ritual performers. Some of these ritual invocations have locally known meanings, and thus are not non-semantic vocalisations, although examples of this latter type do occur in the cult. These invocations appear linguistically unusual in context since they are only used during Srid-pa’i lha rites, and they have meanings for which a range of other commonly used words in local languages already exist. Nor do we find convincing cognates related to these invocations in the immediate ethnolinguistic surroundings of the southern Tibetan Plateau, western Bhutan or far western Arunachal. They do appear to have cognates in Naxi and Qiangic languages.

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One such invocation is locally defined as an imperative verb meaning ‘come!’ It is chanted aloud to verbally beckon ancestral deities to the ritual site, and repeated several times in series directly at the start or end of longer chant sequences. In the Khoma Chu valley, the oral appeal Kho ke, Kho ke means ‘Come! Come!’ where kho is the verb and ke an imperative marker. Written versions of this invocation with the same meaning and use during rites occur in manuscripts from Kurtö, and from Lawa, which lays between Khoma and Kurtö and where the ritual chants exhibit inf luences from both Dzala and Kurtöp. The form written by Kurtöp speakers is kho’u zhi (more rarely kho’o [b]zhes) where kho’u/kho’o is the verb and zhi/zhes marks the imperative, while at Lawa the orthography is kho’o zhe. This kho/ kho’o/kho’u verb ‘come’ is not reflected in either Kurtöp or Dzala colloquial speech today. Kurtöp has three different verbs that can mean ‘come’, ra, jon and shê, while Dzala and Dakpa have the same three verbs in the spoken forms ra, wong and sho. There is only a single possible cognate for the kho/kho’o/kho’u verb ‘come’ I have been able to find in any language within the wider sphere of the cult’s distribution to date, and even that is not a close match. This is the verb ago ‘come’ in Mey/Sherdukpen,61 a language that, along with other provisionally named Kho-Bwa languages or dialects, remains as yet unclassified within the larger Tibeto-Burman family. Looking far further eastward along the Himalayas, the next nearest possible cognates occur in Qiangic languages, as well as in Naxi pictographs recorded in manuscripts chanted by and meaningful to professional dtô-mbà, which is a medium shown to preserve some archaic or redundant forms of Naic languages. For example, words that mean to orally ‘beckon’, such as ‘call out’, are ko55ro53 in Pumi (Taoba), qo55 ʐɑ53 in Pumi (Qinghua) and qo55 r ɛ53 in Muya (i.e., Minyak).62 Among Naxi words recorded in dtô-mbà manuscripts we find pictographs k’ò niù ‘to come face to face; to go or come to one’, k’ò ‘to join’ and gkô bpú ‘to meet; as to meet someone on the road; to come across a person’.63 As we saw in the first volume, a whole range of bi-syllabic and rarely tri-syllabic apparently non-semantic utterances are used during Srid-pa’i lha worship. These are based upon a- and ha- syllables and their variants, such as ’a ’a, ’a-ha, ’a

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ha’i, ’a ho’i, ha ha, ha ho and ho ho, which are repeated in the manner of a sung chorus or are chanted singly. Only one such chant, Wayo wayo, is said to have a meaning, which is ‘fuck’. It is of interest that during premodern Naxi Muân bpò’ festivals which are very closely cognate to Srid-pa’i lha festivals (see below), quite similar chants are used. Joseph Rock recorded hò dshó hò á hò hò and ho ho ho chanted at certain points during Muân bpò’, while the final chant as worshippers returned home from the festival was Wuâ dshó hò.64 There are various interpretations of these chants. One posits that Wuâ dshó hò is aetiological, being the name of the first Naxi family ever to perform a Muân bpò’, but we certainly also know that hò means ‘male semen’ in Naxi. It is quite possible that Naxi Wuâ dshó hò – whatever its meaning(s) may have been – is related to the widely used Wayo wayo chant in the cult.

17.4 Comparisons of Ritual Practice – Introduction The linguistic comparisons above each investigated ritual terminology that is very specific to the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and widely spread across most – if not all, in some cases – of the cult’s region of distribution. Yet, this wider region also features certain ‘hotspots’ for comparisons with Naxi and Qiang materials. In Bhutan, these include especially the Khoma Chu valley and certain community clusters in Kurtö, as well as several settlement areas along the Mon-yul Corridor. At such ‘hotspots’, in almost every local rite or custom, one can find specific parallels with practices and ideas of the Naxi and Qiang. By ‘specific parallels’ here I mean traditions which are not only found amongst the Naxi and/or the Qiang, but which are rather unique anywhere else along the eastern Himalayas outside of ‘hotspot’ areas where they also exist. By way of an introduction here, I will illustrate this with two minor examples from the sphere of domestic rites.

Healing with a ‘Sacred Bundle’ Across the Dakpa speaking region, at least between Lhau in the northern Mon-yul Corridor and the Gamri Chu valley of

adjacent far eastern Bhutan, I documented a localised healing tradition used to treat a variety of ailments. The specialist healers involved are termed men propkhen (or mropkehn) in Dakpa dialects, literally ‘healer skilled in scratching’ (cf. CT sman ’brad mkhan) or ‘healer skilled in suddenly catching/snatching away’ (cf. CT sman ’brab mkhan). Transmission of the role is variable. Some propkhen are hereditary bon shamans who in this area are termed bonpo after the name of auxiliaries that support them. Other propkhen have the ‘calling’ in their family line, and are taught it as students by direct agnates such as their uncles, while still others who fit neither of these first two profiles practice it when experiencing states of possession. The defining feature of any propkhen’s practice is use of a diverse collection of dried wild animal body parts and sometimes various charms (pl. 211), all kept together in bundles wrapped in cloth. Following diagnosis by divination, their main healing technique involves touching, rubbing and sometimes also scratching the affected parts of a patient’s body with selected items from this collection, together with chanting spells or mantra to get rid of the causal agent. One propkhen bundle I inspected contained skull bones of a bear and a wild boar, small animal horns, fragments of elephant bone, a boar’s tusk, musk deer and rodent teeth, a bird skull, a sea bird’s beak, feathers bound in coloured thread, some small, smooth and dark stones, a sea shell, porcupine paws and jaws, bits of wild animal hide, and so forth. Another bundle had six different bird skulls, a number of snake heads, otter jaws, while the same practitioner claimed to have skin and bone from a ‘wild man’ (CT mi rgod, cf. the popular ‘yeti’).65 The types of illnesses that a propkhen can cure usually include any aches and pains, swellings or localised paralysis as symptoms, commonly diagnosed as attacks on the patient by spirits. The agents include btsan who strike when offended, and shindre and söndre, ‘spirits of the dead and the living’ (CT gshin ’dre and gson ’dre), who can attack out of envy and due to gossip. Thus, the propkhen heals with a unique type of exorcism based upon his bundle of animal parts and charms. I myself never encountered such a practice elsewhere along the eastern Himalayas during fifteen years of fieldwork, nor have others reported it – although it may still exist – yet an exact parallel of it has been well documented from the 1920s up to the 2000s among Qiang shamans termed bi, bimo and

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é Plate 211. Contents of a Dakpa speaking propkhen’s sacred bundle used for exorcism and healing, Gamri Chu valley, Tashigang District, 2010.

î Plate 212. Preparing fire flares to drive negative spirits from domestic houses, Jangphu, far eastern Bhutan, 2010.

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A ncient Roots to the East

bibo (or tuan-kung/duangong in Chinese).66 The Qiang use of animal body parts and charms involved has been described as a ‘collection’ or ‘sacred bundle’ termed wa shar. Its contents and function are basically identical with the Qiang shaman’s device called Te-sa-a-ga or sze-ga-ra, consisting of the same items strung upon a belt or cord to keep them together. Thomas Torrance described those he observed used by “be-bo” shamans during the 1920s and 1930s thus: You may see an eagle’s bill, a cock’s foot, a wild boar’s tusk, a goat’s horn, a bit of bone, a cymbal, deer’s teeth, a Chinese charm cash, or a rare shell. Each object proclaims the exorcist powers of its possessor. With these by his side no one can doubt his ability to recall the soul in sickness, undo demonic powers and save you in general from the evil eye.67

Fire Expulsion in Domestic Spaces A second example of highly specific parallels from the zone of Dakpa and less so Dzala speakers, and by extension from some adjacent areas and individual sites which have come under the cultural-historical sphere of influence of these peoples, concerns another form of exorcism or expulsion rite involving fire. The Dakpa speakers’ form of the rite, conducted annually in every village house, is called both haula and hoba in various places. I have described this rite, its context, shamanic specialists and regional spread elsewhere,68 and will merely say it specifically involves the performers causing the hearth fire in the house to flare up dramatically using inflammable substances, then rushing from room to room doing the same thing with these materials and a flaming, handheld faggot (pl. 212). These faggots are first lit around a large bonfire outside in a public gathering space or courtyard in the village, where a naked but masked ‘shamanic’ figure called kengpa, who wields a wooden phallus and who leads the rite, will prance around and sometimes jump over this fire to the beat of a shaman’s drum. The overall aim is to chase out negative spirits who have become lodged within the domestic space. Beyond a well-defined distribution closely associated with peoples participating in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, but especially Dakpa

and Dzala speakers, this rite has not been reported elsewhere in the eastern Himalayas to my knowledge, nor have I ever encountered it.69 However, it is documented amongst the premodern Naxi and Qiang. Joseph Rock named the Naxi form of the rite used by llû-bu ritual specialists as “Ya-an mi ho la”, a name in which Naxi yâ-àn means ‘oil’, mi ‘fire’ and from which the ‘ho la’ proper name part can be directly compared with Dakpa haula and hoba names for the same rite. Rock observed it, “Performed by using a pot with boiling flaming oil into which the Llü-bu dips his hand and with flaming hand rushes about from room to room and stable in a household chasing out demons.” While all this occurs, the llû-bu is accompanied by the beat of a ritual drum. Another form of this llü-bu rite involves them performing around a bonfire in a courtyard, jumping into the fire to retrieve a red hot ploughshare with a sword, after which the llû-bu “carries it about from corner to corner of the court to drive out the demons.”70 David Crockett Graham described the Qiang version of the rite as follows, “Sometimes the demons are “swept” out of the house. A fire is built in one corner of the room, and the priest, after repeating incantations, takes hot oil into his mouth and spurts it onto the fire, causing the fire to blaze up. It is asserted that the fire never sets the house afire, even if the house has a straw roof.”71 One could go on exhaustively matching up, in fine detail, such parallels from the sphere of domestic rites among these three populations, and this regardless of whether or not such practices fall within the domain of the local shaman or other ‘shamanic’ practitioners, or are performed by laypersons themselves. My point here is to emphasise that any comparisons of practice using materials from within the scope of the Srid-pa’i lha cult that one might make with Naxi and Qiang practices must also be viewed against this much wider background of a rich concentration of fairly unique cognates across other spheres of ritual life. If one wants to claim a definite and shared ancestral past between these peoples, as my hypothesis proposes, then most alternative types of explanation for their strong similarity can either be ruled out or significantly diminished by revealing the sheer scope, volume and detail of shared features.

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For my major comparisons of Naxi and Qiang ritual practice with the Srid-pa’i lha cult region to follow, I have selected the examples of annual, communal vitality festivals, the cultic use of white rocks and the worship of sets of house deities. They are specifically chosen as practices which ethnographers of the Naxi and Qiang have emphasised as being generally universal and emblematic of those peoples, and thus also practices most likely to reflect more ancient strata of indigenous local cultures not borrowed from influential neighbours like the Chinese or the Tibetans.

17.5

Srid-pa’i lha, Naxi Muân bpò’ and Qiang Paying the Vows Festivals

Festivals most closely resembling the forms of Srid-pa’i lha worship recorded among speakers of Dzala and Dakpa, and some of their lineal forebears, occur in north-west Yunnan and western Sichuan among populations speaking related Naic- and Qiangic languages and who share ancestral connections, including the Naxi, the Pumi and the Qiang. Versions of these calendric, community festivals staged during the twentieth century have been documented to varying degrees. The most thoroughgoing reports are of the premodern Muân bpò’ (spoken Meebiu[q]) or ‘Propitiation of Heaven’ ceremony performed by Naxi patrilinages. It is regarded by scholars as the “most important communal ritual in pre-Revolution Naxi society”, referring to the period prior to Communist rule in China.72 The premodern ‘Offerings to Heaven’ festivals staged by patrilines of the neighbouring Pumi who speak a Qiangic language were obviously of the same type, yet we know little about them.73 The cultural features of Pumi are of high significance since they represent the most likely ethnic link between the Qiang to their north and Naxi to their south.74 As for the Qiang, basic but useful descriptions exist for their premodern ceremonies of Paying the Vows (Chinese Huan yuen) or Paying the Great Vows.75 David Crockett Graham described them thus, “The great ceremony of paying the vows in the sacred grove is one in which the whole community participates. There are one or more representatives from every family. It is regarded as the most important religious ceremony”, while

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Thomas Torrance stated that “Each family is represented by its [male] head”.76 Although more precise information about the social status of the ceremonial groups involved in the Pumi and Qiang cases is wanting, in general all three types of events have the patriclan, and its sub-divisions into lineages and agnatic groups centred upon the household, as their basis. The Qiang materials are most significant because those writing about them claim Naxi are descended from the Qiang,77 and that the Naxi Muân bpò’ ceremony must have had some of its major roots in this Qiangic ancestral background.78 Joseph Rock, the first ethnographer of premodern Muân bpò’ ceremonies, observed: [The Naxi] Propitiation of Heaven, which the Ch’iang do have in almost the exact procedure as performed by the Na-khi; their sacred grove in which they hold the ceremony bears the same name in Na-khi as in Ch’iang, Muân bpò’ d’à in the former and Muan-poh tah in the latter, yet the Na-khi are separated from the Ch’iang by hundreds of miles of most difficult negotiable mountains and rivers, and furthermore the Na-khi are ignorant of the existence of the Ch’iang and vice versa. 79 As we will see, Rock’s statement about near identical procedures performed by widely separated populations lacking knowledge of one another perfectly sums up the comparison between a Srid-pa’i lha festival in the Mon-yul Corridor and a Naxi Muân bpò’ set out below. During the period of modernity in China, but particularly under Communit government, the performance of these Naxi and Qiang festivals had either ceased or strongly declined, or become significantly transformed when revived. Thus, our strongest basis for a comparison with Srid-pa’i lha festivals are accounts of premodern Naxi Muân bpò’, with reference to details of premodern Qiang Paying the Vows ceremonies. The comparative work by Charles McKhann on premodern Naxi Muân bpò’ ceremonies revealed that a core pattern of worship and social organisation existed, as well as considerable local variation in practice. This is exactly what all my ethnographic data on Srid-pa’i lha festivals presented in the first volume also demonstrated.

A ncient Roots to the East

In figure 32, I compare thirty characteristics of ritual practice in premodern Muân bpò’ with the equivalent characteristics in the Srid-pa’i lha festival of Bapu Lhasöshe celebrated at Thempang and described in chapter 11. The comparison only concerns major calendric ceremonies of the winter, post-harvest or New Year periods, not the minor forms sometimes celebrated at other times during the annual cycle. While my initial purpose with figure 32 is comparing actual ritual practices, certain aspects related to the role played by myth and meaning in the ceremonies follow below. A few preliminary remarks on the Muân bpò’ will be useful for initial clarification. The overall cosmology informing festivals of the Srid-pa’i lha cult, Naxi Muân bpò’ and Qiang Paying the Vows ceremonies is basically identical: there are ‘heaven’ or ‘sky’ beings dwelling up the top of the vertical cosmic axis as the ancestors of human beings, and representing the source of vitality and fertility for the latter. Calendric festivals serve as the regular means of renewing balanced relations between the two related groups of beings. Based upon this, the central ritual dynamic in the three festivals is always the same: life-giving beings from above are invited or brought down to earth to an altar at which humans interact with them. Herein lies a fundamental difference between the three festivals being compared in this section and other rites in which sky ancestors and vitality are the focus. Elsewhere along the extended eastern Himalayas, the ancestral beings do not descend to the terrestrial altar, rather the shaman always ascends to interact with them in their own abodes up above on behalf of humans below. Of course the bon shaman’s invitation journey takes him up to the sky world of the ancestors during Srid-pa’i lha festivals, but only to bring the deities down to the altar for the main worship. The ritual goals of the participants and principal purpose of celebrating Muân bpò’ and Srid-pa’i lha rites have regularly been incorrectly referred to as ‘harvest festivals’, or as some related form of ‘thanksgiving’ in the literature. Charles McKhann’s comprehensive research on Muân bpò’ led him to the conclusion that “the Sacrifice to Heaven ritual can and must be understood as concerning the reproduction of

Naqxi “bones” (cog-o, corporate patrilineages).”80 This concurs with the findings of Joseph Rock, who reported “One of the main purposes of the sacrifice to Heaven seems to be to have plenty of descendants”, while Anthony Jackson added “with all this sexual symbolism, the Muan bpö rite seems a typical fertility rite held at the threshold of the New Year.”81 In other words, the central goal is cyclic revitalisation focussed upon descent groups, and is thus identical in all ways with the central goal of the Srid-pa’i lha cult. For neither the cult’s festivals nor the Muân bpò’ is there any specific ‘thanksgiving’ reported or observed. Rather, various obligatory exchanges with divine ancestor-progenitors are transacted, in which humans (re)pay for their on-going revitalisation and debts incurred via primordial affiliation by carefully hosting and dedicating animals and other desirable things to the denizens of the sky world. Premodern Muân bpò’ could be celebrated by either lay males or Naxi dtô-mbà ritual specialists, and dtô-mbà pictographic texts existed in manuscript form for conducting the ceremonies. Both of these features are also true of Sridpa’i lha festivals such as the Bapu Lhasöshe celebrated at Thempang, although I will not compare them in detail on figure 32. It is enough here to recall, that the origin myths informing both Muân bpò’ and Bapu Lhasöshe share the same basic plot. Following an elaborated cosmogony, life begins and humans and sky beings become connected with each other, but human life cannot be fully developed – there are failed or deficient offspring, or an illness of lifelessness – due to incorrect ritual relations with the sky. The situation is remedied by way of proper ritual, setting a precedent for the rites performed in each festival. Finally, to remove any misconception about the name Muân bpò’, we can also note that the common translation ‘heaven’ for Naxi muân in the scholarship is mere convention, one probably influenced by earlier trends in Sinological writings. ‘Sky’ is equally valid for muân, with both ‘heaven’ and ‘sky’ being used interchangeably as translations for that word. Exactly the same applies to both gnam and dgung in translations from Tibetan. Thus, if so inclined one might literally translate Muân bpò’ as ‘Propitiation of the Sky’.

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Naxi Muân bpò’ (major ceremonies)

Thempang Lhasöshe (major ceremonies, with reference to other Srid-pa’i lha festivals)

main ritual

i. A master of ceremonies is chosen for each festival from

i. A master of ceremonies is chosen for each festival from among

specialist

among lay male members of the ceremonial factions by

lay male members of the ceremonial factions by divination. This is

divination; ii. hereditary dtô-mbà sometimes takes the

an occasional exception, since hereditary bon po ritual specialists

role.

mostly take the role elsewhere; ii. hereditary bro performers who are sub-shamans.

assistants

Three types: assistant to the main specialist, who sacri-

Three types: assistant to the main ritual specialist, who deals with

fices; a pollution specialists who purifies; host helpers for

sacrificial animals; a pollution specialist who purifies; host helpers

the firewood and meal.

for the firewood and meal.

ceremonial

Divided into mixed gender, intergenerational agnatic cer-

Divided into mixed gender (male and female siblings with com-

groups

emonial groups who share the same ‘bone’ (i.e., patrilineal

mon father), intergenerational agnatic ceremonial groups who

clan), and who as members of a household are identified

share the same ‘bone’ (i.e., patrilineal clan), and who are explicitly

with a ‘life god basket’.

identified with a ‘life basket’ representing a common household base of each agnatic group.

ritual

Major events in second half of twelfth lunar month or

Major events in second half of twelfth lunar month, four days

calendar

first half of first lunar month, one to six days duration;

duration; Thempang’s six-yearly single event is an absolute and un-

biannual; minor events in seventh lunar month, one day

explained regional exception, since neighbouring events at Dirang

duration.

Busti and Yewang are biannual, with major events in the middle of tenth lunar month, and minor events middle of sixth lunar month.

worship site

A ceremonial ground beyond and usually north of village

A ceremonial ground beyond (often above) and north of the

perimeter, within a grove of old trees including junipers

village perimeter, within a grove of old trees including oaks (and

and oaks that are never cut. The main ritual area in front of

junipers at higher sites) that are never cut, some of which are

the altar is a shallow pit lower than the altar stones.

identified as ‘deity trees’ (lha shing) directly in front of which is the stone altar for offering. The main ritual area in front of the altar slopes downhill and is lower than the altar stones.

gendered

In some Naxi communities, women not allowed into the

Only male ritual specialists occupy the main ritual space imme-

space

main ritual space, but take part in preparatory stages,

diately before and during the central offering rite. The exceptions

such as brewing ceremonial liquor and the procession

are female bro mo sub-shamans. Women not specifically excluded

leading to the worship site. In other communities, women

at other times, and take part in preparatory stages, such as brewing

participate in the wine-offering rite directly within the

ceremonial liquor and the procession leading to the worship site.

main ritual space. sacred

North, direction from where ancestral migrations arrived

North, direction from where ancestral migrations arrived, and

direction

and direction souls depart after death to ancestral realm.

direction of horizontal phase of all verbal ritual journeys undertaken by the bon shaman’s ‘soul’ to the ancestral sky realm.

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Naxi Muân bpò’ (major ceremonies) continued.

Thempang Lhasöshe (major ceremonies, with reference to other Srid-pa’i lha festivals) continued.

altar (1)

A line of flat unworked stones forming a low bench- or

A line of flat unworked stones forming a low bench- or wall-like

wall-like structure, upon which offerings are placed and

structure, upon which offerings are placed and behind which the

behind which the other parts of the altar are set up; leaves

other parts of the altar are set up; leaves of plants considered pure

of plants considered pure are placed to cover the altar and

are placed to cover the altar and area behind it.

area behind it. altar (2)

altar (3)

Three branches of two tree species (two of oak; one of

Three branches of ‘deity trees’ (lha shing) are set up behind altar

juniper) are set up behind altar stones to represent celes-

stones to represent ancestral sky deities; three ritual arrows rep-

tial “antagonists in man’s original marriage drama”; main

resenting trees form an altar structure upon which main sacrifice

sacrifice is hung on tree branches.

is hung.

Ritual baskets containing hulled, cooked rice, three large

Ritual baskets containing hulled, cooked rice, three decorated

incense sticks attached to poles, fermented and distilled

ritual arrows, fermented and distilled liquor, food offerings, a bit-

liquor, food offerings, ‘bitter medicine’, tea offering, small

ter or sharp foodstuff (kazi), small paper flags on bamboo sticks.

paper flags on bamboo sticks. Three white ‘rocks of creator deity Ndù’ placed at the base

No sacred rocks on Thempang altars, but they are common at both

rocks on

of ‘deity trees’; one black rock at the back of altar to sub-

neighbouring sites and further afield: at nearby Yewang, a black

altar

stitute for a liberated ox rite that was no longer performed

rock placed at the back of the altar is associated with fertility and

(see below).

conception; at Tsango three white rocks are placed at the base

sacred

of ‘deity trees’ as symbolic terminus for the progenitor ancestor; in Kurtö three stones representing the vitality principles of the progenitor ancestors are placed on the altar at the base of the ‘deity tree’.

special

Alcohol brewed by ceremonial group members well before

Alcohol brewed by ceremonial group members well before festi-

preparation

festival; if it sours this is a bad omen.

val; if it sours this is a bad omen.

sacrificial

[Historically, and in dtô-mbà manuscripts] Freeing of

Freeing of a white-faced mithun ox ‘without blemish’, which is

animal (1)

a white ox (or one with white horns or head) ‘without

tethered in the ritual enclosure, purified by water lustration and

blemish’, which is tethered in the ritual enclosure, a red

incense smoke fumigation, and with leafy twigs of the ‘deity trees’

silk string and tassel tied around its neck, and purified by

(lha shing) tied around its neck with a wool cord.

water lustration and incense smoke fumigation. sacrificial

[Historically, and in dtô-mbà manuscripts] Offering a

animal (2)

white sheep to Heaven.

Freeing of, or blood sacrifice of, a white sheep.

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Naxi Muân bpò’ (major ceremonies) continued.

Thempang Lhasöshe (major ceremonies, with reference to other Srid-pa’i lha festivals) continued.

sacrificial

Domestic pig sacrifice; meat divided equally among all

No domestic pig sacrifice. But, at many sites the ritual hunt of

animal (3)

participants; the head receives special ritual treatment.

a wild pig (or mock pig) with bows and arrows; meat divided

A single, main sacrificial animal is used, regardless of

equally among all participants, and the head of hunted wild

festival group size.

animal receives special ritual treatment. A single, main sacrificial animal is used, regardless of festival group size.

sacrificial

Several chicken sacrifices with subsidiary role.

Chicken sacrifice included only at some sites, usually a live chicken is offered and then freed. But, at sites with the palo device

animal (4)

feathers are plucked from live cocks to be used during rites.

special

‘Egg prop’ stick is tied to one of the three trees on the altar,

‘Cheese prop’ stick is tied to one of the three branches on the altar,

device

with a raw later cooked egg held at the top between four

with conical cake of white cheese held at the top between four

prongs. It prevents harm descending from Heaven.

prongs. It embodies vital powers descended from the sky lha.

special

Pig’s head is cut horizontally, with top half offered to the

Conical cake of white cheese is cut horizontally, with top half

offering

Heaven tree on the altar, and the bottom shared by the

offered to agnatic ceremonial faction who owns the altar, and the

method

other trees.

bottom shared by the others worshippers.

purification

Two types: fumigation with incense smoke; sprinkling

Two types: fumigation with incense smoke; sprinkling lustration

rites

lustration water from a wooden scoop.

water from a wooden scoop.

alcohol

Both fermented and distilled used; when offered “the offi-

Both fermented and distilled; when offered “the officiant sprinkles

offering

ciant sprinkles wine with a twig towards the altar and calls

wine with a twig towards the altar and calls of the names of the

technique

the names of the deities he addresses”; twigs of juniper and

deities he addresses”; twigs of Artemisia and rolled banana leaf

Artemisia are used.

used, juniper only at higher sites.

The ‘origin of medicine’ may be related.

The origin of illness and revival of a patient are related.

Clan identities are celebrated by calling out names.

Clan identities are celebrated with flags and a communal meal

reference to healing

clan identities

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seating clans in front of each flag.

A ncient Roots to the East

Naxi Muân bpò’ (major ceremonies) continued.

Thempang Lhasöshe (major ceremonies, with reference to other Srid-pa’i lha festivals) continued.

marriage

Wedding songs are sung. The three tree branches on the

A mock wedding is enacted between couples comprised of zi girls

references

rear altar represent the celestial “antagonists in man’s

and young tsangmi ritual assistants from each of the four clans.

original marriage drama”.

The ‘groom’ and ‘bride’ are tossed up into the air by unmarried participants and placed into a drying rack above the hearth.

contests

Archery contest in which winning is regarded as a positive

Tug-of-war contest in which winning is always regarded as a

between

omen for the coming year; birth of son for winners, or

positive omen for the coming year, sometimes for fertility of the

participants

great fortune. “The winner will be grasped by the losers

winner, and at Thempang the women’s side is always allowed to

and hurled up into the air: ‘thrown up into heaven’ ” (cf.

win. At other sites there are archery contest, mock battles, or run-

marriage references Thempang Lhasöshe). Ritual archery

ning races.

shooting against a representation of a human figure is “a preventive gesture against enemy attacks from outside in the year to come ”.

communal

Yes, for all participants at the ceremonial grounds.

Yes, for all participants at the ceremonial grounds.

offering

Sacrificial foods carried home to the hearth place, offered

Sacrificial foods carried home to the hearth place, divided equally

division

to ancestors, divided equally among all family members.

among all family members.

talismanic

Twig or stick of each of the three ‘god trees’ on the altar

Ritual specialists visit each household in the village after the fes-

sticks

is given by the master of ceremonies to each family. This

tival to bless it in front of the hearth with lustrations using a leafy

stick placed near the life god over the hearth, or tied to the

twig of the lha shing. These twigs are then deposited in the drying

main ritual pillar within the house.

rank hanging directly above the hearth.

addressing

Mùan nder ssu: confession of wrongs done to heaven dur-

At festival ending, all main ritual specialists ask forgiveness of the

errors and

ing the rites.

lha for any wrong procedures or oversights during the rites.

All participants depart the sacred grove together in

All participants depart the sacred grove together in procession

procession carrying ritual equipment and return to the

carrying ritual equipment and return to the village.

meal

oversights completion

village. special

Hò dshó hò á hò hò and Ho ho ho are chanted at certain

O ha’i, Oo haa’i, A ha’i and Shaa ha’i and Ho are chanted at certain

chant, and

points; the final chant as worshippers return home is Wuâ

points; at east Bhutanese sites the final chant by worshippers when

final chant

dshó hò. Hò can mean ‘male semen’.

rites are completed is Wayo wayo. Wayo means ‘fuck’.

é Figure 32. Comparison of ritual practice in Naxi Muân bpò’ and Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals, for major calendric ceremonies only.82

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Overall, the correlation of shared elements and parallels between the two types of festivals in terms of ritual practice listed in figure 32 is very high. Most of what we know of the premodern Qiang Paying the Vows ceremony equivalent to Muân bpò’ is also present in Srid-pa’i lha festivals as described here. In fact, certain elements in the Qiang events even more closely match practices in Srid-pa’i lha festivals than what we know of Muân bpò’ practice. It must also be recognised that there are some very clear differences between practices in the Naxi and Srid-pa’i lha cult events. Here I will briefly discuss three significant divergences in the recorded data. The first concerns the type of sacrificial animals and how they are used. The second regards the character of respective contests between participants. The third is references to wedding rites and primordial alliance. All these apparent differences are most revealing. They lead us to think that the two festivals were once even more similar than the two examples that were just surveyed above. Finally, two more comparisons of highly specific correlations related to the overall cosmology informing these festivals will be noted. One concerns rites related to muteness and deafness, the other cosmographic references in ritual chants.

Sacrificial Animals The Thempang festival, and others like it, have had a Tibetan glud rite combined into their ritual schemes. Here, the basic logic of glud or ‘ransom’, an exchange of items with equivalent value – in this case, sacrificial animals offered with respectful hospitality for revitalisation of human life – is not fundamentally different from the ritual logic of exchange inherent in Muân bpò’. On a more practical level, there are differences in the type of larger animals being offered, and the method used to do this. At Thempang, a white-faced mithun ox ‘without blemish’ and a white sheep are the two main animal offerings that represent the exchange given to the lha for revitalisation. After their dedication to the deities, both animals are set free to live an unmolested life during which they must not be put to work and be allowed to die a natural death.

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The ideal of an animal ‘without blemish’ but which is an ox or steer with horns can only be practically achieved by use of the mithun, which is a semi-domesticated animal left to graze in wild forests until needed for ritual purposes and certain transactions (e.g., in marriage or dispute settlements) and never used for work. By contrast, in the recorded Naxi Muân bpò’, a single pig was offered as a blood sacrifice. However, this apparent difference in recent times appears to reflect changes in the pattern of older Naxi rites. Several ritual texts chanted during Muân bpò’ explicitly mention the offering by freeing of a white ox or steer – or one with white horns or head – which must be ‘without blemish’, while the Naxi pictographs illustrating it contain the graphic meaning ‘repayment’. 83 In the premodern Qiang Paying the Vows ceremony equivalent to Muân bpò’, the central animal offering was a white steer without blemish that must never have performed any work and be perfectly healthy. The white steer was offered as a blood sacrifice. 84 Joseph Rock speculated that prior to the ‘ancient’ Qiang – who are always described as steppe pastoralists – becoming settled agriculturalists, they too would have freed the white steer for the offering, rather than using blood sacrifice. 85 In any case, if these festivals are taken to be derived from a common past, the whitefaced mithun ox ‘without blemish’ at Thempang would be a survival of what the Naxi historically dispensed with. Exactly the same applies to the white sheep offered and freed at Thempang, after which it was not to be harmed, sold, or used and allowed to die a natural death. In the ritual texts informing Muân bpò’, a white sheep was offered to Heaven, although the Naxi discontinued this in practice and substituted the single pig sacrifice instead.86 The premodern Qiang continued to offer a white sheep to heaven in their Paying the Vows ceremony, and moreover they sometimes liberated such sheep rather than performing blood sacrifice, and the sheep were never to be sold, used for work or harmed, 87 but the Qiang never sacrificed pigs during these rites. While we do not have details from the Qiang, in the ritual culture of both the Naxi and the Srid-pa’i lha cult, aside from being a sacrificial animal, the sheep has the same crucial roles as a cosmic go-between and psychopomp, while its wool is associated with, and is a ritual transmitter of, vitality and fertility.88

A ncient Roots to the East

Contests Between Participants In a wide variety of sophisticated Srid-pa’i lha festivals, one unit of rites concerns the appearance of several male ‘warriors’ who bear weapons, and who act to some degree in a challenging or aggressive manner. Interpretations of the role these figures play at any given site vary. During the Tsango Lhamoche (ch. 9), they were concerned with the expulsion of negative forces from the community. At the Lhau Pla (ch. 12), they played a key role in performing ritual chants, types of bro movement and in dispensing fertility to participants, while elsewhere these warrior figures are also interpreted in light of local historical events. At certain sites, these figures have also disappeared from festivals, albeit that some of their symbolism and function survives in other forms, such as use of weapons during rites, or in the

form of martial competitions. During premodern Muân bpò’, this unit of rites was also found with similar functions. They are listed under the heading ‘contests between participants’ on figure 32. Authorities on Muân bpò’ report a contest of archery for which “a human figure is scratched into a carbonised board and set up as the target [...] The one who hits the target once is promised a son in the following year, three hits foreshadow a great fortune”. Furthermore, “The direction of the shooting indicates the direction from which outside enemies are to be expected [...] Archery at the Muân bpò’ ceremony is thus a preventive gesture against enemy attacks from outside in the year to come”, and enemies were indeed identified during this rite using the actual ethnonyms for neighbouring populations living in the four cardinal directions.89 A parallel contest – a tug-of-war – linked to future fertility and prosperity of participants did occur during the Thempang Lhasöshe festival being compared herein with the Muân bpò’. However, the dimension of preemptive and martial defence against specifically named external ethnic enemies in the Naxi rite was completely missing from the 2011 Lhasöshe I have documented, and this requires an explanation. During most neighbouring Srid-pa’i lha festivals staged in the area around Thempang, warrior figures related to external enemies and their expulsion do indeed feature within the scheme of rites,90 as they do further afield. The instance described here occurred during the Phudung Lhasöshe or Chisöshe festival that I documented in neighbouring Sangti valley. There was a performance by two young men termed gidu, which is the Tshangla word for identifying non-Buddhist ‘tribal’ peoples further east. These gidu figures are costumed to represent “Miji” (i.e., Dhammai) warriors (pl. 213) who once oppressed Dirang communities by collecting informal tribute using threat of violence. The partly comic performance initially involves the swaggering, sword bearing and pipe smoking figures begging or stealing food, liquor and other items from participants, then at one point a verbal challenge is issued, “Who are you, where

î Plate 213. A gidu performer during a Srid-pa’i lha festival, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2010.

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Source of Life

do you come from? This place belongs to us, since the beginning. Go, go away from here!” They are then chased from the ritual ground towards the east from where the Miji come. Exactly the same type of performance involving figures representing Miji warriors was once part of the Thempang Lhasöshe, albeit that the Thempang version is a more elaborated performance than that found in the Sangti valley. However, it became detached at some time during the past, and combined instead into a separate rite linked to an annual Buddhist expulsion ritual locally called Hoshina. The Hoshina is presided over by a hereditary, noncelibate lama for several days at the end of each second lunar month. Following the Miji warrior’s performance during a Hoshina, the formal expulsion rite involves mock sacrifice of a li ṅga, a human-like effigy of dough filled with blood and guts obtained from a local butcher – and more recently substituted with red-coloured fluids like tea - which is attacked using a sword. This procedure reflects the typical Tibetan Buddhist-style li ṅga effigy and sacrificial procedure found right across the Tibetan Plateau. And this is precisely what is demanded by the detailed written liturgy entitled The Red Butcher (Shan pa dmar po) employed for Hoshina by the village lama. The wrathful deities invoked in that text are related to the rNying-ma-pa school yi dam rTa-mgrin. They are summoned to attack and conquer all ‘enemies’ (dgra po) in the four cardinal directions, in what is obviously a ritual pre-emptive strike.91 However, no ethnic identities of enemy populations are actually cited within the text itself. In the case of premodern Thempang, these enemies are historically well documented as including Miji to the east and the Mee or Sherdukpen to the south, while the image of hostile peoples from the Assam plains mainly features in local myths and is not confirmed in historical documents. All this justifies the appropriation of the Miji warrior’s performance from the Lhasöshe into the Hoshina.92 These developments at Thempang are typical of transformations that have impacted Srid-pa’i lha festivals across the region. They reflect a widespread pattern of Buddhist ritual specialists systematically appropriating apotropaic rites with local scope, both those related to territory – and therefore hostile neighbours – and to ambivalent or dangerous numina within the natural environment. Yet, they also reveal that both the archery staged during Muân bpò’ and

174

the older Lhasöshe rites involving martial figures and practices at Thempang have been very closely cognate.

Weddings and Primordial Alliance Both types of festivals contain overt references to weddings, with the Muân bpò’ featuring singing of wedding songs while the Thempang Bapu Lhasöshe festival has a mock wedding ceremony. Both instances signal the more fundamental, mythical significance of alliance that underpins the two ritual events. The core Muân bpò’ origin myth of Ts’ò mbêr ssáw includes two parallel motifs of primordial alliance which represent a breach. One occurs in the initial anthropogenic narrative, in which the first human beings are a set of five brothers and their six sisters. They are unable to find marriage partners so they marry each other, resulting in a breach due to incest with negative repercussions to follow. The second occurs in the marriage of Ts’ò-zâ’-llú’ghû’gh – earth-born ancestor of man – to his celestial bride Ts’á’-khù’-bû-bù mí, whose marriage contract to a celestial husband had already been arranged before Ts’ò takes her away down to earth. This results in a double debt of both compensation and affinal exchange obligations within a breached prescription of patrilineal cross-cousin marriage. The problems become manifest when Ts’ò and Ts’á’ have children who are born handicapped. This can only be resolved by including worship to the aggrieved celestial kin group of Ts’á’s original husband-to-be within the Muân bpò’ rites. The ‘egg-prop’ stick at the altar represents this aggrieved celestial party but exists to ward off their harm. The core origin myths of the Thempang Bapu clans who celebrate Lhasöshe, and the glud rabs which has been inserted into and adapted to the original festival chant sequence, are very close to Muân bpò’ narratives in various respects. The four clan-founding brothers who arrived in Thempang were unable to find marriage partners, and so exchanged their ‘younger sisters’ (zi) among themselves as ‘wives’ (zi) to establish four clans who, from then on, ideally practice endogamous marriage in relation to one another, but with their primordial alliance being a breach due to incest. The general problem the festival addresses in the glud rabs is lack

A ncient Roots to the East

of human vitality leading to a state of incapability, and this can only be resolved by worshiping the aggrieved lha sky ancestors, who dispense tshe and g.yang life powers resulting in virility and fertility. The ‘cheese-prop’ stick at the altar represents the aggrieved lha party, but exists as the ritual resolution containing the life powers sent down to revitalise the ceremonial descent group. According to informant interpretations, the mock wedding enacted between couples comprised of zi girls and young tsangmi ritual assistants from each of the four Bapu clans ideally represents primordial alliance at the moment of clan foundation, while reaffirming communal endogamy. Links connecting alliance motifs and the actual rites are clearer in the Muân bpò’ case, and the adaptation of the Lhasöshe mythical scheme by insertion of the ‘bon’identified glud rabs has probably come at the cost of losing specificity in the links between different parts of the narrative background to the rites. Nevertheless, two features of the Thempang mock wedding are very telling when compared with Naxi rites. During the mock wedding feast staged at the bride’s parents’ house (the prescriptive environment is matrilineal cross-cousin marriage), the ‘brides’ and ‘grooms’ must feed each other using long, thin wooden spoons with male and female genitalia carved at the ends. We can compare this with actual Naxi wedding feasts staged at the groom’s parents’ house (the prescriptive environment is patrilineal cross-cousin marriage), when “Bride and groom then kowtow before the assembled elders, ancestors and gods, and eat a nuptial meal, signalling their unity by sharing a single pair of chopsticks and drinking from the same cup.”93 Also during the Thempang mock wedding, the ‘brides’ and ‘grooms’ are grasped by the wedding party and hurled up into the air, and placed upon the drying rack together above the hearth place, a clear reference to the ancestral sky deities and their fertility required for reproduction. In Muân bpò’, during an archery contest in which winning is regarded as a positive omen for the coming year, birth of sons for winners, or great fortune, “The winner of this contest will be grasped by the losers and hurled up into the air: >thrown up into heavenTibetan< per se.” One might also read de Sales 1994 here with interest. 141 For the term and examples, see Borup 2004.

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15. Ol d Cosmologic a l a n d R it ua l Pr ecu r sor s of t h e Sr i d-pa’i lh a Cu lt 1

2 3 4 5 6

7 8

9 10

11

12 13 14

15 16

17 18

A second dGa’-thang manuscript dealing with various exorcisms including dri is called Sha ru shul ston gyi rabs la sogs pa by its publishers; see Dga’ thang: 60-75, 179-212. Its rites and language share but few similarities with the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, nor does it deal with rnel dri, rather it features a certain type of dri bon rite and thus lacks the elaborate purification of the vertical cosmic axis by the Ya-ngal ritual specialist. Karmay 2009: 63-64. Dotson 2008: 61-63. ShI phyIr gson myi ’brang ngo /; Dga’ thang: 52, 167, f. 37, l. 2. See the myi shi sos gyi bon mo named Kod-shel-lcag (also God-she-lcag); Dga’ thang: 55, 172, f. 42, l. 4-5, cf. 58, 175, f. 45, l. 7-8. For example, in a Ya-ngal rite from Kurtö, we read the appeal, ‘Today, open the door to the lha of the living! Today, close the door to the tomb of the dead!’ (’di ring gson gyi lha sgo phye // ’di ring gshin gyi dur sgo chod //); Shawa 1, text 3: f. 16a, l. 1-2. Dotson 2013: 163-165. The btsan dri are mentioned in the Sha ru shul ston gyi rabs la sogs pa text; see Dga’ thang: 67, 194, f. 15, l. 2. See, for example, gri in both the Gal mdo and Gzi brjid presentations of the Srid gshen ‘way’ respectively in Kapstein 2009: 117, 124 and Snellgrove 1967: 116-117. Snellgrove 1967: 300, cf. 259 n. 40. See Karmay 1972: 349, and Karmay 1994: 419 translating a passage from Mkhas pa lDe’u: 235, while Karmay 2009: 63 for gri ’dur has “the taming of the knifed deaths”, and for Mu cho khrom ’dur chen mo “the Great collection of taming rites performed in public by Mucho”. See also Zhangzhung 122, ’dur sgo which is defined as incorporating “taming rituals”. Blezer 2008: 421-422 n. 3, 439 n. 44 made the same methodological point in relation to Old Tibetan texts and g.Yung-drung Bon sources. Dotson 2008: 62 n. 64. Karmay 2009: 63. See the various dri indexed to the sky, earth, intermediate space, stone, fire and later also water in the Sha ru shul ston gyi rabs la sogs pa text; Dga’ thang: 60, 180, f. 1 and 71, 200, f. 21, l. 4. Yul dung yul dung stod na // dung gyI bo [read: bu] mo rnel te grongs /; Dga’ thang: 39, 141, f. 11, l. 1-2. Dri mo de’I mying / rnel dri dgab mar ma’ /; Dga’ thang: 45, 152, f. 22, l. 6-7. For other rnel dri names which share elements with this one, see Dga’ thang: 44, 150, f. 20, l. 7 rnel bkrags dgab mar ma, 50, 162, f. 32, l. 2-3 rnel drI thag bshar ma, and 47, 156, f. 26, l. 8 rnel grI thag shal ma’ (cf. 48, 158, f. 28, l. 4, and 49, 159, f. 29, l. 4). See the case of Lha-lcam Phye-ma-lam in Dga’ thang: 39-40, 141-142, f. 11, l. 4-f. 12, l. 4. Joanna Bialek pers. comm. 9 May 2016 in Berlin, and email of 12 May 2016.

Notes to pages 42–45

19

Examples from dGa’-thang manuscripts of the r superfix added to words which lack it in standardised Classical Tibetan included rma them for ma them and brla for bla, while an r superfix is written for the regular d prefix, e.g., rgu for dgu and rngul for dngul. Moreover, in Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts from valleys in north-east Bhutan directly adjacent to lHo-brag, addition of an r superfix is a common scribal practice, e.g., rdus for dus, rdang for dang, and so forth. 20 Das 1902: 771, cf. also sne’u as ‘children’ in Thomas 1957: 87 n. 4. 21 Na gzhon BGT 1495, lo na gzhon pa, cf. Jäschke 1881: 298. Per Kværne reminded me of the name gShen-za Ne’u-chung for the daughter of ston pa gShen-rab in the g.Yung-drung Bon religion. 22 For examples, in the rTsang-shul tale it is the rTsang srin Zla-gar (Dga’ thang: 47, 156, f. 26, l. 4), in the dBye-mo Yul-grugs tale it is dBye srin Yug-mo (50, 161, f. 31, l. 10), in the [Yar]-lungs Sogs-ka tale it is Yar sri bTsan-bye Phag-po sNa-rings (49, 160, f. 30, l. 6), while in an incident that occurs at the boundary between the alpine slates and the meadows (g.ya’ le spang mtshams su) it is the g.ya’ srin Tshubs-ma and the gangs srin Phywa-ba (39, 141, f. 11, l. 9-10). Interestingly, in the tale of progenitor king from the mid-thirteenth century, his first problem on earth is hostile srin; Mkhas pa lDe’u: 236. 23 See the gNubs-yul Gling-grugs tale; Dga’ thang: 48, 157, f. 27, l. 7. The name occurs in the later ritual text the Sri gsas bung ba stag chung bzhugs; see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 186 (= f. 4a). 24 See, in order of citation, IOL Tib J 731: r122:sa las sri lang ste chags (cf. PT 1134: 74); IOL Tib J 734: 7r270: sa la sri rkun ma; PT 1050: 5: ya rus ni lha mchod la // mar du ni sri gnon cig //. 25 Das 1902: 1288. 26 See chung sri in BGT 815: byis pa chung ngu nas ’chi bar byed pa’i gdon nam sri /, while chung sri is used throughout the Sri gsas bung ba stag chung bzhugs manuscript (Karmay and Nagano 2002: 185-197). See also the discussion in Blondeau 1997: 208-210, Rangjung Yeshe Dictionary (consulted at: http://dictionary.thlib.org; accessed 4 March 2016) cites a text title sri bzlog ’khor lo ’bar ba as “ritual work recited after the death of an infant to prevent the malevolent sri spirits from harming other children”; cf. also Karmay 1972: 352 sri kha (lang ba) ‘to meet one’s fate’ in g.Yung-drung Bon religious literature. 27 An example of such rites for ‘children’ (byis pa) found in the cult is recorded in the manuscript Lawa 2, text 1, entitled Bon ’di ni bsbyi bsri ’khor mo bcug gsums bzhugsho, and in which the written forms sri, bsri and sri’u occur. A cognate type of rite is found in the Sri gsas bung ba stag chung bzhugs manuscript published in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 185-197. 28 See Dga’ thang: 51, 163, f. 33, l. 9, and the Sri gsas bung ba stag chung bzhugs manuscript in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 188 = f. 8a. 29 One can note that the Dri-gum tale in the Old Tibetan Chronicle, most recently translated and discussed by Dotson 2013, contains the same basic set of words and motifs – dri, sri, a death, a child and a ransom – we find in rnel dri ’dul ba rites. 30 At the end of Ya-ngal’s first phase of rites, the bu grI mo is cited, while the completion statement mentions a rnel grI mo; see Dga’ thang: 37-38, 139, f. 9, l. 4, l. 7. 31 De yan chad rnel drI mo’i bsangs lags te / rdzogs s+ho // // // ’di man chad rnel drI gdul ba’i thabs so; see Dga’ thang: 38, 139, f. 9, l. 7-8.

32

For the reading chu rba > chu sba (or spa) ‘water reed’, I follow the pattern in these texts of ‘doors’ being most often identified with particular types of woods or woody vegetation. A precedent of this type for rba and smyug together occurs in Rnel dri ’dul ba ritual instructions in a list of implements/devices called shad (‘rake’, ‘brush’?) made from three types of wood or woody plant stems, byang gyI rba shad dang / bod gyI shing shad dang / mon gyI smyug shad dang / shad gsum gyis bshad [read: gshad] do //; Dga’ thang: 34, 132, f. 3, l. 3-4. 33 Srin zo zo ring po’i phag du phul / srIn za za ring po’I phyag nas blus te / la’I them sgo dang / lug gyI smyug sgo dang / rta rgo [read: mgo?] gsom sgo dang / chu rba rang [read: sba ring?] gyI rigs yan chad gyI cig bgrod te gshegs so /; Dga’ thang: 33, 131, f. 1, l. 9-f. 2, l. 1. 34 rMa them pa cig yar ru rgal te gshegs pa; Dga’ thang: 33-34, 132, f. 2, l. 7-8. 35 For examples, see Dga’ thang: 36, 135, f. 5, l. 10 rma them pa gsum yar rgal na; 37, 138, f. 8, l. 2 rma them pa bdun yar rgal te; 37, 138, f. 8, l. 11 rma them pa rgu ya rol na’, and so on. 36 For example, skyin dang babs pa las and rma[n] dang sa las; see the edition of Byol rabs sections in Karmay 2009: 79 for l. 169-170. 37 In this context, the dgab ‘covering’ (usually in nominal compounds based upon ’gebs) must be the amniotic sac or membranes which develop together with a placenta, and in which a miscarried foetus is frequently delivered intact. 38 Ma mgo gyen du bstan / bu mgo thur du bstan / chu ser rta ltar rgyag [/] khrag glangs glang ltar ’khun / sha ma dgab la dkris // gtIing khrag tsa ra ra / lha bnol [read: mnol] gangs bzhu ’o // mtsho bnol [read: mnol] gtIng bkrum mo // yar ste lha ma mchod / mar de [read: te] dri ma btul /; Dga’ thang: 48, 157-158, f. 27, l. 9-f. 28, l. 1. 39 Cho ga khongs re lags pa dang / ’phrang mo ngo long cig byas la / rus dkar dung tsam gyI sgo phye cig zer / snag byang tsam gyI sgo phye cig / zangs ’phrang lcags ’phrang sgo phye cig byas la’ / ’phrang gdong mong [read: ldong mo] re re gcag go / de re re la yang [read: ya] ngal dang bnol bsangs khongs re spyan drang ngo /; Dga’ thang: 35, 134, f. 4, l. 2-5. 40 For ’dong mo ’wangs read: sdong mo wangs. The wang [shing], spoken wangseng in Kurtöp and Dzala, refers to cedar or fir trees in my research region, and to my knowledge it appears related to thang [shing] in southern Tibetan dialects, but cf. wang mo in BGT 2366: shing mngar gyi rigs shig. 41 While ’ga ’ga tsam might conventionally be read as a variation of Classical Tibetan ’ga’ tsam ‘a few’, I read it as ’gag ’gag tsam cIg, parallel to the earlier sgo sgo cig preceding the motion verb. On ’gag ‘obstruction’, see Jäschke 1881: 92 and ‘enge Stelle’, see Wörterbuch, 12: 362, also BGT: 486 ’gag = sgo ’gag. 42 Sgo sgo cig bgrod ’tshal lo / smyug ma g.yu’i sgo / se ba zangs gyI sgo / ’dong mo ’wangs gyI sgo / sgo mo bcu gsum la ’ga ’ga [read: ’gag ’gag] tsam cIg bsgyer ro //; Dga’ thang: 49, 159, f. 29, l. 10-11. For bsgyer cf. ’gyer and sgyer, ‘to lay [something] down’, ‘to drop’, etc. 43 The image here is related to the subdued infant dri requiring ritual ablution (bkrus) and lustration (tshan) prior to delivery to the sman, and can be compared, for example, with bu gri rgod las g.yung du btul / chu sna mang po nas bkrus / tshan sna mang po nas btab / [...] bu gri sman du bskyal /; see Dga’ thang: 42, 146, f. 16, l. 7-9. 44 For shal ba, cf. Jäschke 1881: 557 shal ba and shal ma ‘a flint, sharp-edged stone’.

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Notes to pages 45–47

45 For ’dong mo read: ldong mo ‘wooden stave’ or sdong po ‘tree branch/ trunk’, cf. elsewhere ’dong mo ’wangs for a wooden ritual port or gate (Dga’ thang: 49, 159, f. 29, l. 11), and further ’dong shas bcu gsum na’ / stag pa’I rgam shing dang bcu re gsum / as ritual materials with other types of wood (52, 165, f. 35, l. 8-9), cf. also shing sna bcu gsum with shing bu and ’gal pa. (50, 161, f. 31, l. 2). 46 Dga’ thang: 37-38, 139, f. 9, l. 3-8, grongs yang rnel te grongs / bskyal ba sman du bskyal / rma them pa rgu rdzogs par shes na / bu gri [read: dri] mo sman du rung / de’i chu ser tshan du rung / ’dI’i ya stags nI rma them pa re re la khung bu re re rgu bsko // shal ba rgu / ’gal pa rgu // ’gal pa dang shal ba re re yang gzhag / ’dong mo re re yang gcag / bsag thabs dang gyer thabs bcas gcig go / de yan chad rnel grI [read: dri] mo’i bsangs lags te / rdzogs s+ho //. 47 For instance, ‘for each included procedure as well, a Ya-ngal prepares what is befitting with purification and nine smoke [types]’ (cho ga khongs re re la yang / ya ngal cig gyIs bsangs dang / bdud [read: dud] rgu dang rigs bcas /); Dga’ thang: 34-35, 133, f. 3, l. 10-11. 48 For instance, ‘Pha Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, at the junction of three paths, purified the lha upwards again with nine sri holes, nine mjol, one rough stone, one wooden billet [and] one gson ma’ (pha ya ngal gyIm kyong [read: kong] gyis / lam sum mdo shed du / sri gung [read: khung] rgu mdzol [read: mjol] rgu / sha ma [read: shal ba] gIg ’gal pa cIg / gson ma cIg la / yar te lha yang bsang /); Dga’ thang: 51, 163, f. 33, l. 8-10, with the readings khung, mjol and shal ba based upon other precedents in the manuscript. 49 Speculative. For sle mo ngo cen read: sle bo/mo ngos chen can. Sle ba/ po/bo refers to ‘a flat basket’ woven or plaited (sle ba) from cane or bamboo; Jäschke 1881: 596, CDTD (nouns) entries 8998-8999. Sle or sle mo is ‘a coarse blanket’ Jäschke 1881: 596, cf. BGT 2996 sle mo. Joanna Bialek considers that ngo cen here must be an exocentric compound (pers. comm. 16 November 2016); cf. Bialek 2018, 1: 173-175. 50 For snyags ma read: smyug ma, for which snyug(s) ma is a common variant. For ’dram rings read: ’gram ring, apparently meaning a ‘long wall/base’ as a ritual structure or altar of a sort made from various woods. 51 Dga’ thang: 50, 160-161, f. 31, l. 2-6, lde gshen rmun bu dang / tshe myI rmu rgyal gyIs / shIng sna bcu gsum dang / sle mo ngo cen dang / snyags ma ’dram rings las btang / shing bu rgu dang de las ’gal pa bgyIs / gson ma bcu gsum las / yar te lha bsangs / mar te sri bnan / lha’I gshegs shul phye / rje’i snang gsal sgron / myI dang lha ru mjal / rje dang ’bangs su mjal /. 52 See n.106 of ch. 2. 53 Gson ma literally ‘a live one’, cf. Das 1902: 1314 “gson ma colloq. for gson po: phug ron gson ma a live pigeon”. The gson ma birds are always prepared – sometimes by having objects attached to them – or at least are present just before a purification, see elsewhere in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs in Dga’ thang: 50, 162, f. 32, l. 5, bya rgod gson ma la / gser gyI sha btags pa / gnam gyI mthongs yang phye / yar te lha yang bsangs /; Dga’ thang: 51, 163, f. 33, l. 9-10: sha ma cIg ’gal pa cIg / gson ma cIg la / yar te lha yang bsang /, and in the Byol rabs at Dga’ thang: 16, 105, f. 21, l. 6: bdud bya skyung kha gson ma la / gser gyi dril chen btags /, and also see PT 1047, l. 360: bya gag gson ma / / ’am spyang ki ltong gyis btagste. 54 I read the otherwise obscure original gser gyI sha or ‘sha of gold’ attached to the bird here as an error for gshang ‘flatbell’ since in a

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Byol rabs among the dGa’-thang manuscripts we find a gson ma rite technique described as ‘attach a large bell of gold to a demon bird jackdaw, the gson ma’ (bdud bya skyung kha gson ma la / gser gyi dril chen btags /; Dga’ thang: 16, 105, f. 21, l. 6). Lha ’phangs gnam du ’phangs / ngang yal mtsho ru yal / dbye gshen mkhar bu yIs / bya rgod gson ma la / gser gyI sha [read: gshang] btags pa / gnam gyI mthongs yang phye / yar te lha yang bsangs /; Dga’ thang: 50, 162, f. 32, l. 4-6. For example, in Shawa 1, text 3: 31a, l. 1-2: des kyang lha yar gnam du yar // des kyang ngang yar mtsho la yar //. PT 1194, l. 49-50, gshog la god kad bya rjungs btags na / gnam mthongs [TH: phye? OTDO reads: ’gyed here] [---] sprin gyi go seld to /. Preceding this line the text successively indicates the gshog is a vulture’s wings, for example l. 37 bya rgod, l. 40 rgod thang, l. 41 rgod gshog, etc., cf. also Stein 2010: 266 on gshog pa, and PT 1047, l. 360: bya gag gson ma / / ’am spyang ki ltong gyis btagste. Yul gser yul gser stod na’ / gser lcam nyag nI rnel te grongs / de’i dri yar gnam du yar / grI [read: dri] bon ra ljags skyI rgyal gyIs / drI rgod las g.yung du btul / pags ’khengs las zhib du mnyes / drI las btsun du phab / mtshun las sman du bskyal //; Dga’ thang: 38, 139-140, f. 9, l. 11-f. 10, l. 3. Yul shel shel yul stod na / shel gyI bo mo rnel te grongs / de’i dri yar gnam du yar / drI bon ra ljags skyI rgyal gyIs / dri rgod las g.yung du btul / pags ’khengs las zhIb du mnyes / grI [read: dri] las btsun du phab / mtshun las lhar [read: lha] ru gshegs //; Dga’ thang: 38, 140, f. 10, l. 6-9. Cf. Jäschke 1881: 42, 56 and BGT 238 khengs pa = nga rgyal, and clearly here pags ’khengs las zhib du mnyes / refers to an untanned hide and has to be read in parallel with the alternate, recurring phrasing / pags gsar las zhib du mnyes / ; see Dga’ thang: 38, 140, f. 10, l. 5, l. 11, f. 11, l. 3. Hill 2008. Bu gri rgod las g.yung du btul / chu sna mang po nas bkrus / tshan sna mang po nas btab / [...] bu gri sman du bskyal /; see Dga’ thang: 42, 146, f. 16, l. 7-9. Grongs pa rnel grIr [read: drIr] drongs /; Dga’ thang: 46, 153, f. 23, l. 5-6. On [’]drongs in these formulations, cf. also Dga’ thang: 51, 165, f. 35, l. 2, drongs yang glan drir drongs /, Jäschke 1881: 284 ’dren pa 4. and p. 285 ’drongs, BGT 1430 ’drong ba. Lha dang sman du bsnya [read: bsnyad] ste btang / sman bon ’brIng dang phyag du phul / lha dang sman du gshags [read: gshegs] / mying ni lha za drIl bu sIl bu sman du btags / gna’ de ltar phan /; Dga’ thang: 46, 145, f. 24, l. 9-10. Dur gshen rma da’ yIs / rnel drI sman du bskyal / g.ya sman sil mar btags / de ring rnel grI’i [read: dri’i] gzhung du gdul lo /; Dga’ thang: 52, 166-167, f. 36, l. 9-f. 37, l. 1; cf. also f. 21, l. 1-2. See Stein 2010: 72-73, 267-268 and Richardson 1998: 267-268 for references to sman in some Old Tibetan and early Classical Tibetan sources, with IOL Tib J 739 and IOL Tib J 738 particularly rich in such references, while van Schaik 2013: 242 n. 26, 247 cites Old Tibetan references to rtse sman. Van Schaik 2013: 241-247. We read alternatively drI rgod las mtshun du phab / btsun las sman du bskyal (Dga’ thang: 38, 140, f. 10, l. 5-6), grI las btsun du phab / mtshun las lhar ru gshegs (f. 10, l. 8-9), drI las mtshun du phab / mtshun las sman du bskyal (40, 143, f. 13, l. 1), and compare dri rgod las g.yung du btul /

Notes to pages 45–47

dri las btsun du phab (44-45, 150-151, f. 20, l. 10-f. 21, l. 1) with rgod las g.yung du btul / drI las mtshun du phab / (45, 152, f. 22, l. 4-5). 69 Joanna Bialek pers. comm. 9 May 2016. 70 Variants occur in PT 1134, IOL Tib J 739, IOL Tib J 731. A variant of the segment gnam rim pa dgu steng du mgon tshun from PT 1134: 11, 19 also occurs in the dGa’-thang manuscript as gnam gyI pha mtha’ na / ’gon btsun phywa; Dga’ thang: 53, 167, f. 37, l. 10. In the gSang-ba Bon-lugs narrative we find mgon btsun phya; Mkhas pa lDe’u 230. The form mtshun means ‘patrilineal ancestor’ in Classical Tibetan. See the discussions of all these early ancestor terms in Stein 1983: 193-194 n. 87 and Stein 1985: 104 n. 47. 71 Pha mes pho lha; citation in Stein 2010: 62-63. 72 Chos-grags: 710-711 has ’ jig rten pa’i lha zhig ste pha mes kyi dus nas brgyud pa’i ’go ba’i lha. Another recent lexicon has the same definition, but adds that mtshun is a term of ‘Bon usage’ (bon lugs), i.e., folk custom, meaning ‘the quintessence of the mobile vitality principle or life force of patrilineal ancestors; see BGT 2315 bon lugs ltar pha mes kyi bla’am srog gi bcud. 73 The common idea that the word sman refers to female beings is a misconception based upon other readings of that word with the same or very close formal spellings (e.g., dman), and any specific gender assigned to generic lha, sman and mtshun/btsun needs to be justified by evidence in context. In various old myths, the genderless category sman is sometimes assigned a gender marker to indicate a female spirit of this type, for example, see Rlangs: 11 on a gnam sman ma, just as lha and mtshun/btsun can be gender-marked in context. 74 IOL Tib J 734: 7r267. 75 IOL Tib J 731 passim, PT 1285, l. v.015, and IOL Tib J 734, l. 7r267. 76 The published overviews of surviving folios and their placement must be considered provisional only, and are in part unjustified. To take but one of several examples, there is no evidence to support existing placement of the second folio in the Na-r/v series, and Bellezza’s linking of the text fragments lacks any philological basis; see Klimburg-Salter, Lodja and Ramble 2013: 39, and the Na-2r/2v of Bellezza 2013: 68, 108. It might have belonged within the missing second or third series (i.e the hypothetical Kha-r/v or Ga-r/v; the initial yang on f. Na-2v, l. 1 rules the hypothetical first series Ka-r/v out), or the missing eleventh series (i.e. the hypothetical Da-r/v), while image fragments along its lower margin on both recto and verso sides suggest it might also be the second frame of Nga-r/v. The placement of the fourth folio in the Ca-r/v series (Klimburg-Salter, Lodja and Ramble 2013: 39) is likewise not based upon any evidence internal to the manuscript. 77 Dga’ thang: 13, 101, f. 17, l. 2-4, and 59, 177, f. 47, l. 5. 78 PT 1038, l. 12, see Spanien and Imaeda 1979, v.2: pl. 312. 79 The most interesting examples occur in the early redaction of the progenitor king narrative by Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer composed in ca. 1170s-1190s (Nyang ral chos ’byung 157-158), and in the autobiographical account of Gu-ru Chos-dbang’s early visionary experience at gNam-skas Brag (Gu chos rang rnam 12a, 3-4). 80 For example, we can ask which – if either – of the two couples mentioned in the text passage on folio Cha-1r translated below is being depicted in the painted panel (pl. 203) associated with it? Or are these human beings dressed in garments of laypersons who are

engaged in a rite or a hunt, since a bow-shooting pose and archery equipment are shown in the frame? On folio Na-1r (pl. 292), only the name ’Od-de Gung-rgyal is mentioned in the inscription. Yet, in the painting a female figure identical to that upon Cha-1r (pl. 203) is depicted together with the male figure who looks completely different from the other possible ’Od-de Gung-rgyal image on Cha-4r (pl. 206), where an armour-clad figure shoots a bow. 81 See ch. 12.6 and notes there. 82 See PT 1068: 6, 9, 20, also PT 1134: 67 et passim, also in the divination texts PT 1046B: 37 and IOL Tib J 740: 2, 104, 155. Cf. the lhe rje deities in the gSang-ba Bon-lugs narrative, see Mkhas pa lde’u: 231. 83 See sne’u (written sne ’u) in IOL Tib J 734: 5r198, ‘in order to embrace a child...’ (sne ’u khyud pyir [read: phyir]...), Thomas 1957: 69, 87 n. 4, while sne’u is a rare synonym for bu tsha ‘child, boy’; see Das 1902: 771. 84 Dotson 2013: 132, Stein 1971: 501, n. 63 and Stein 2010: 62, 257, 258. 85 BGT 1404, 1455. 86 See the passage in PT 1042: 123-125 with my emendations in [ ], sor [read: sgor, ? cf. l. 41] gshegste [read: gshegs te] / (123) gshegs kyi rim pa la / thog mal [read: ma] yag pa bzhi / de’i ‘og du phyag cha mdung pa / de’i ‘og du phyag cha dgra sta / (124) pa / de’i ‘og du gshen / de’i ‘og du zo rig / de’i ‘og du nam ka / de’i ‘o du smra zhal / de’i ‘og du / (125) zhal dang sku rten /, and so forth. 87 Goldstein 2001: 989, see yags in BGT: 2545 ’das mchod ’bul rten /. 88 See yags in Das 1902: 1125 “present sent to a bereaved person as a token of condolence; the present of condolence. ma yags bya snyam pa la”, also p. 950 ma yags bya “to console, give consolation to one who is in grief: de’i dus na yab yum gum nas dge bshes la ma yags bya snyam pa la ‘he thought of consoling the Dge-bshes whose parents had died.” Das’ authority in both cases is the Jo bo rje A ti sha’i rnam thar. 89 Chos-grags: 334 te’u shing – khri’u shing ngam rkub stegs; cf. Jäschke 1881: 204 ste’u shing khri citing a Mi-la ras-pa narrative, and BGT 1030 te’u shing - khri chung ngu zhig. 90 BGT 1161 thi’u - gsar du kha ‘bus pa’i me tog gi thi’u /, and entry 1186: the’u – 2. me tog kha ma ‘bus pa /. 91 Cf. different meanings for yug(s) and byur yug developed in later g.Yung-drung Bon contexts: Zhangzhung: 235 yugs – “mnol grib dang gdon, contamination, flilth, dirt; harmful demons”, Karmay 1972: 352 “yug (often preceded by byur) = ‘a demon who brings misfortune’”, Snellgrove 1967: 46-47, 308 in Gzi brjid “defiling misfortunes” for yug citing a modern Bon-po lama, while Karmay 1998: 385 citing the same source has “Impurity due to the death of a spouse (yug)”. 92 See Jäschke 1881: 206, 208, and on gto Stein 1972: 235, 244 and Karmay 1998: 246. For this suggestion, I thank Joanna Bialek, pers. comm. email of 18 June 2016. 93 Dga’ thang: 15, 104, f. 20, l. 1; see ch. 4 and my n. 191 there for the text and translation. 94 For example, the Gurung/Tamu term denoting shamanic rites involving a journey to the spirit world is tē (or tēh), related to the verb tēwa meaning ‘to welcome’ and ‘going to meet’; see Strickland 1982: 234 and references cited therein. 95 See Jäschke 1881: 381 bre ba, 402 ’bre ba, cf. Snellgrove 1967: 284, 304 on bre for both cloth canopies and the covering over the dome of a shrine in the g.Yung-drung Bon religion.

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Notes to pages 53–60

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See the upper half of the provisional overview of surviving folios depicted in Klimburg-Salter, Lodja and Ramble 2013: 39. 97 F. Ca-1v: ste’u lnga mtshan gsol ba’ / rin chen dung ’od ’bar ba’i ste’u / rtse la dung ’od ’bar / skabs [read: sked] na dung bye’u ’phur / rtsa na phad ma’ ’dab brgyad bdal / sman btsun byon ba rten //. 98 On Old Tibetan bse’ as a material; see the extensive discussion in Bialek 2018, 1: 356-365 and vol. 2: 596-597. 99 F. Na-1v: bcu gnyis zangs ’od ’bar ba’i ste’u / rtse la sman bye’u lding / sked la bse’ sgong [...remaining text illegible]. 100 For examples, see f. Ca-2v l. 4-5: lhe’u sman mgon du sbyon /, and f. Pa-2v l. 4-5: lhe’u sman mgon skyabs mdzod /. 101 F. Cha-3v l. 5, mentions mthing sbre’u bcu gsum phubs [read: phub], implying a total of thirteen. Since mthing sbre’u here reads parallel to common dung sbre’u and dar sbre’u constructions elsewhere (cf. also f. Nga-4v l. 3-4: mthing yi dra tshugs can), mthing probably refers to the substance azurite. 102 Note that yul sa is ambivalent. In Old Tibetan documents, it appears to mean both a type of being or deity often cited together with sman (e.g., PT 1051: l. 30, IOL Tib J 738: 3v23), and a term for a place or area (e.g., PT 1047: l. 37, l. 246, IOL Tib J 733: i.1). 103 For a few examples among a whole range, see PT 1042: 42 ‘tent of the cadaver and tent of the mental principle’ (ring gi gur dang / thugs kyi gur), and l. 118 ‘spread a striped/multi-coloured felt covering on top of the grave’ (se’i gong du dbyam phying khra bo bting), in PT 1134: 56 ‘as for the mental principle tent at/for the ’brang, pitch a white one. As for the tailored [or: ‘rump/seat’ byang > byang khog] cushion/ carpet, place the cushion/carpet’ (’brang du thugs sbra / ni / dkar mo pub rtan byang rtan khod), in PT 1136: 25 ‘erect a ’brang for performing death rites’ (shid bgyir ’brang gzugsu, cf. l. 18) which assumes sbre’u may be related to ’brang, and l. 28 ‘spread a covering [on a psychopomp horse]’ (khabs su bkab), and so on. 104 For examples, see f. Cha-3v and Ja-3v. 105 I read mching as mching bu, cf. BGT 846 mdog sna tshogs ldan zhing. 106 For zab I read za bog/’og; cf. dar zab and za bab[s]. 107 Ff. Pa-3v and 114, Pa-4v, l. 1-2 (above painted panel): bcu dsum [read: gsum] d.yung [read: g.yung] drung g.yu shug ste’u / mgon bu lha sras dang / klu bu rin cen dang / sdings bu g.yu le gsum / bdur yags grub pa’i ste’u / dar bre’u bla’I khabs / mching gram [read: ’gram] ’og kyi gdan / [one line of text with ca. ten syllables illegible here] [Pa-4v] gser yi me thog bkra / shun pa zab dang dar ro / lhe’u sras ne’u zhon yi mgon dang skyabsu [read: skyabs su] yod // /. 108 Bdur yags grub pa, cf. ff. Cha-3v, l. 3-4, Ja-3v, l. 5, Nga-3v, l. 3, Nya-3v, l. 3, Ta-3v, l. 2-3. 109 Mu-le Grum is the first tree the descending lha progenitor king arrives at in the gSang-ba Bon-lugs narrative; Mkhas pa lde’u: 236. How this name is related to – or derived from – the wording mu le trum/drum in the Old Tibetan divination text PT 1043: 69, 79 remains unclear. 110 The most likely meaning of mthing as a mythical material here, see Jäschke 1881: 240, also mthing, mthing rgyus and mthing sngon in BGT: 1208-1209 and De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin phun-tshogs 1986: 138-139, 143-144. 111 I follow Coblin 1991: 320 n. 134 who assigned pho smos to both genders, as does Go-shul Grags-pa ’byung-gnas 2001: 181, n. 6 for bu pho smos

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in PT 1283: 247. Richardson 1998: 154, 164 n. 30 left it unassigned; cf. ’di rnams pho smos in PT 1071: r251-r252, r266. 112 F. Nga-4v: bar yul gling drug du / yul sa khri do re dang / khri lcam gling mo skar / grongs pa bdur dus su / dung bre’u dkar po la mthing yi dra tshugs can les [read: lhes/lhas (ma?)] bzhingso [read: bzhengs so] // de ring ne’u zhon pho smos la dpe’ bzangs don du ’bul lo //. The reading lhes/lhas [ma] (cf. CT sle, sle po, lhas ma) ‘plait, braid’ for les in this and parallel passages was suggested by Joanna Bialek, and I find her case compelling in relation to the morphological characteristics of these forms in images depicted upon f. Cha-4v, Ja-4v and Pa-4v. 113 F. Cha-4v: lha bu ’brang kar dang / lha sman ’phrul mo dag / grongs pa bdur dus su / dung bre’u dkar mo la / g.yu’i dra tsugs [read: tshugs] can les [read: lhes/lhas (ma?)] bzhings [read: bzhengs] / grongs pa bdur yags pas / shi bgab [read: gab] gson la bzang / ne’u zhon pho smos la dpe’ bzangs don du ’bul /. 114 Cf. the precedents ne’u zhon pho smos la dpe’ bzangs don du ’bul lo on Nga-4v, l. 4-5 and Cha-4v, l. 5. 115 F. Pa-4v: rgya sras khru na dang / rgya lcam rgas mo btsun / grongs pa bdur dusu [read: dus su] / rgya dar ris cen [read: can] la / rgya shing ljon pa yi dra tshugs can les [read: lhes/lhas (ma?)] bzhings [read: bzhengs] / gna’ yul sa de rnams kyang bdur yags lha ru grub bo / de ring ne’u zhon pho smos kyang / grongs pa bdur yags so / [a final line following here is illegible]. 116 See f. Nya-3v, l. 1: ma bu khrun snar, an expression otherwise unknown to me, but perhaps meaning ‘mother and child foremost division’? 117 For example, lHa-lcam Phye-ma-am (also lHa-lcam Phye-leb) (Dga’ thang: 39, 141, f. 11, l. 7, l. 11), and lHa-za Dril-bu Sil-bu-sman (46, 154, f. 24, l. 10-11). 118 See Hill 2013a: 39 citing PT 1060: l. 74, IOL Tib J 734, folio 7, l. 292, 294, 298, and PT 1286, recto, l. 186. 119 On Old Tibetan rGya references, see Lalou 1965: 200, Stein 2010: 263, Yamaguchi 1970: 122-124, and n. 109. The ‘catalogue’ entry for rGya in PT 1060: 92-93 places it downstream at the ‘tail of the river’ (yul chab gyi ma gzhug). The form rGya-yul gDan-bzangs first appears in IOL Tib J 734: 8r349. See also Dga’ thang: 44, 149, f. 19, l.5-6 for rGya-yul gTan-bzangs, and cf. its occurrence in a Glud rabs presented by Karmay 1998: 343, 372. The rGya lha ’Brong-nam, mentioned first in PT 1060: 93, appears in early myths as one of the key Srid-pa’i lha rabs mched bzhi dwelling up in the sky; Mkhas pa lde’u: 229, Lde’u jo sras: 100. On the identity rGya-rje Ling-dkar in myth, see n. 17 in ch. 1. In numerous origin myths from the cult translated throughout this book, the primordial place or progenitor is identified as the rGya ‘white rock’ (brag dkar po). Could it be that the region of rGya-tsha along the eastern gTsang-po catchment (see ch. 18) is associated with this ancient rGya identity? 120 F. Ja-3v, l. 1-3: ste’u bdun bar snang ’phyo ba’i ste’u / yar bltas lha yul snang / mar bltas dog mo snang / bar bltas myi yul snang / de phyir ’phyo ba i [read: ba’i] ste’u /. 121 Dga’ thang: 49, 160-161, ff. 30, l. 8-31, l. 1, lha ’phangs gnam du ’phangs / ngang yal mtsho ru yal / lha yIs myI ma btsas /. 122 See Rlangs: 5, where the passage reads: srid pa lha rabs mched bzhi zhes kyang bya / mgo gsum tsha [? read: mgon tshun phya] zhes kyang bya / de nas mi rgyud du grol ba ni / sras ’o de gung rgyal /.

Notes to pages 60–67

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125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138

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141

142

See the lower half of the provisional overview of surviving folios depicted in Klimburg-Salter, Lodja and Ramble 2013: 39. The exception is f. Na-1r, with only a very fragmentary text, the first words of which read ’Od de gung rgyal yi thugs kyi sprul pa les / sman rdzong [...], and which does not allow us to order the content together with the two other surviving first folios. Thomas 1951: 51-52, 64, 151, 236, 276-277, 296-297, 376, 423, 446. PT 1096: 2r-r5, r16-r19, PT 1290: r10. See the Old Tibetan Chronicle in Dotson 2013: 297, 388. PT 1096: r2-r4, PT 1290: r12. PT 1134: 123: pum puM ni dar gis / bchings / rnga ma ni slungs su bchug [read: bcug]. PT 1136: 28-29: mjug mani [read: ma ni] slungsu [read: slungs su] stsald. Yule 2010 [1871]: ch. LIV, 231, n. 2. Bialek 2015a: 33 n. 34, Dotson 2011: 92 n. 27. F. Pa-3r l. 6-Pa-4r, l. 1: sha slungs bcu gsum yang / dang po de ltar bsrid do /. F. Pa-4r, l. 3 (above painted panel): rin chen yi sha slungs rdzogs s.ho //. F. Pa-4r, l. 1-2 (below painted panel): sha mkhar slungs ma ni / sa bdag rgyal mo ste / lha mo brten ma des / rin cen [read: chen] sna lnga brgyan. F. Cha-4r, l. 3, while elsewhere we only find sha yur po with yu mo and she’u cung to refer to a specific type of deer on f. Nya-3r, l. 1-2. For instance, see Huber 2012a: 205-206, 210-211. Spang mkhar yangs pa’i dkyil shed na // sha rkyang ma bu’i ’phel g.yang de // de ring ’di ru g.yang du len; f. 51a, l. 5-6 of Gsang ba’i bdag pos gnang ba’i dgra lha dpang[s] bstod ces bya ba bzhugs so // (block print in 26 folios, paginated as 39b-53a within a larger collection, and photographed at Sengkhor, Gertze County, Tibet Autonomous Region, August 2002). The initial syllables of this line are unreadable, and I reconstruct ne’u zhon here from an identical, recurring phrasing on fourth folios in the Ste’u text, see f. Pa-4v, l. 5 ne’u zhon pho smos kyang, ff. Nga-4v, l. 4-5 and Cha-4v, l. 5 ne’u zhon pho smos la. Ff. Ca-1r l. 1-Ca-2r, l. 2: yul sa le ljon stingsu [read: steng su] / smon lam brag kyi mkhar / dung mtsho dkar mo ’khyil /mtsho dang brag bar du / lha sras lha bo che / lha za gang cig ma sman du gshags pi [read: gshegs pa’i] tshe’ / lhe’u mkhar sman rdzong ni / dmag dpon sgra bli [read: bla’i] rje /sman rdzong sgra bli [read: bla’i] rdzong / phyag na dbal mtsho [= mtshon (+ missing verb here) /] [Ca-2r] gzed btsan g.yam dri ’dul / [add: ne’u zhon] pho smos kyang sgra bli [read: bla’i] rdzong dang sprad //. Ff. Cha-1r, l. 1-5 and Cha-2r, l. 1-4 (above painted panel): lha yul gung dang du lha sras skyes cig dang mtsho sman rgyal mo nyis / sman du gshags pa’i tshe / gangs ri dkar po dang / lha mtsho dkar mo nyis / sman dang yul sa’i rdzong gangs ri dkar po la / sa bla [read: lha] mgon skyabs bzhugs / lha mtsho dkar mo la / sa sman ’ jam le gnas [Cha-2r] [first two syllables missing/illegible here] sku srungs lags / ne’u zhon lhe’u sman [illegible, add: dang?] chags ri dags rnams / kha ba ’od mkhar dang lha mtsho dkar mo yis mkhar dang rdzong la bzhags / sa sman ’ jam le ’di sman la ’o re byams // //. The alternative reading is from skyes being either the perfective of skye ba as a substantive or skyes ‘a present [for someone]’; Jäschke 1881: 28, 30.

143 For example, in the brother and sister rGya offspring names rGya-sras Khru-na and rGya-lcam rGas-mo-btsun on f. Pa-4v (see pl. 197, lower frame), khru is sometimes written for phru (cf. khru slogs pa BGT: 286) which serves as a short form of phru gu (phrug) ‘child, a young one’ but can also designate the ‘uterus’ (phru ma), while rgas is used figuratively to mean ‘to go down’ to talk of the sun descending through the sky (Jäschke 1881: 103), and here perhaps alluding to a ‘descending female’ (rgas-mo) offspring from the divine Gya ancestors above? 144 See the Copenhagen ms. edition by Haarh 1969: 409. 145 For precedents for use of dkor in relation to sman and birds elsewhere in the Sha slungs text, see ff. Ca-2r, l. 4 (beneath painted panel), Na-2r, l. 4-5 (beneath painted panel), Pa-2r, l. 3-4 (beneath painted panel). 146 F. Cha-2r, l. 1-8 (beneath painted panel), lcags sgong nags la rdol / nags bye’u ke ke dang / khu long zer mong dang / bya gshen ’ jon mo des nags la shul yang ’dren / dkor yi dam pa lags / bye’u mgon srungs ma ni / lho ga nags mtshal nes / kang ka mchu rings byung / shing khams dbang du sgyur / sman yi bye’u ’phring rnams / shing la myi byer ba’i [/] bye’u mgon srungs ma mdzod // //. 147 F. Ca-2r. l. 3-4 (beneath painted panel), gshags shul brag la ’dren /. 148 F. Pa-2r. l. 3-4 (beneath painted panel), sman lam shul yang[?] mtshon /, with lam shul here understood according to BGT 2768, gzhan dag phyin pa’i rjes kyi lam shul. 149 F. Na-2r. l. 4-5 (beneath painted panel), sman yi sun ma ’bod /. 150 For gdung sobs I read gdung [ba] as the verb ‘to be dried’, and sobs as sob (cf. gsob) a ‘stuffed’ cushion/mattress (sob stan, etc.) of some kind. This fits best in relation to the role of the following marmot. 151 F. Pa-3r. l. 1-6, sha slungs mtha’ ma nes ni / phyi ba’ dang grum pa nyis / grum pa’ g.yu yi mdog / bdud rtsi chab len bas / sman yi gdung sobs mdzad / phyi ba’ gser yi mdog / lhe’u sman gzi’ [read: gzim] mal sbyor / longs spyod dkor yi grangs /. The remaining text of line 6 (sha slungs bcu gsum...) begins a three line passage ending on the top of folio Pa-4r which introduces a separate topic following the description of the marmot and badger. 152 Grol phugs, although phugs could also mean ‘perpetual’ here, see BGT 1714, cf. Stein 2010: 152 “men who descend from the gods (mi rgyud lha las grol ba)” citing Rlangs: 5. 153 F. Cha-4r, l. 1-5: ri dags srungs ma ni / lha ’od de gung rgyal ni yul sa khri yi dpon / lha yi grol phugs lags / sman la ’o byams la / sha la skyabs che bas / sman dkor ri dags rnams / bdud btsan srin po yi sgra [read: dgra] la ma skur shig /. 154 The rare name gzed as a deity identity is found in PT 1060: 58 with sman and sman tsun; cf. Stein 2010: 269, and Stein 1972: 244 who identified gzed as the “lord of bushes”. 155 F. Ca-4r, l. 4 tsan bdud kyi rngon pa, cf. Dga’ thang: 60, 181, f. 2, l. 5, and 63, 185 f. 6, l. 6 on bdud kyi rngon pa yin no / as one of ‘the three terrors one encounters there (on a ritual journey)’ (’ jigs pa gsum dang der phrad do’ /). 156 The idea is old, see IOL Tib J 734: 7r267-268 on the btsan, bdud, btsun, rmu, g.yen dgu and sri who are ‘thieves’ (rkun ma) that require a ransom. 157 F. Pa-4r, l. 1-3 (above painted panel), lhe’u sras lcam dral la longs spyod dkor du ’bul / rin cen yi sha slungs rdzogs s+ho //.

379

Notes to pages 69–80

158

For examples, see Stein 2010: 58-59, 263-264, van Schaik 2013: 235, Imaeda 1981, and Kazushi Iwao, S. van Schaik and Tsuguhito Takeuchi 2012: 123 (Stein Collection Or.8210, Text 84, S.12243). 159 Karmay 2009: 63. The publishers of the dGa’-thang manuscripts identified the collection as bon gyi gna’ dpe and the rites themselves as bon gyi cho ga, then further divided some of them into bon sde gson bon, with this latter classification being found in g.Yung-drung Bon literature; see Pa-tshab Pa-sangs dBang-’dus and Glang-ru Nor-bu Tshe-ring 2007 in Dga’ thang: 1-2. 160 Karmay 2009: 64. 161 See Cerulli 2012: ch. 4 on the miscarriage narrative in the Kāśyapasamḥ itā. 162 For examples, see Gaenszle 2007: 32 n. 3, 37-38 on the Mewahang Rai rites for hillasi (accident and murder deaths), ma:maksi (maternal deaths in pregnancy or childbirth) and chanu (unborn child deaths), He Limin and He Shicheng 1998 on Naxi Hâr-lâ-llù’ k’ó’ rites for suicide deaths, while together with Gerhard Heller I observed and documented the cognate Idu Mishmi Brophee rite in Upper Dibang valley during 2007 which was staged to benefit the family of a suicide victim experiencing troubles due to the deceased person’s wandering spirit. Aisher 2006: 376-380 reported the same ritual concern among the Nyishi of eastern central Arunachal Pradesh, and see the Apatani eschatology featuring the after death sky realm of Talimoko where the “women who died in childbirth go to this Land in the Sky and are henceforth referred to as Igi”; see Elwin 1958: 271. 163 Oppitz 2017, Maskarinec 1995: 38-42, 141, 214. 164 See Oppitz 2017: 20-22, 66-125 on Magar ra, and Maskarinec 1998: 241, 286, 292, 312, 316, 324 on Kāmī rāh, and 292, 294-304, 325, 343, 607-608 on Kāmī moc. 165 Graham 1958: 40. 166 Karmay 2013: 23 nn. 9-10 convincingly explained the brla spelling as bla in a Gnag rabs from the dGa’-thang manuscripts, cf. also sku’i brla in IOL Tib J 734: 2r55-57, 6r235, and Dotson 2008: 44 on rla spellings in Old Tibetan documents. 167 See Dga’ thang: 39, 141, f. 11, l. 4-f. 12, l. 4 for the ‘narrative of catching a rnel dri [on] stag antlers’, and Dga’ thang: 40, 142, f. 12, l. 4-f. 13, l. 1 on the ‘narrative of a brla stone for a rnel dri mo’. 168 See brla bzhi dang myi ’i lus po in Dga’ thang: 3, 88, f. 4, l. 6; cf. the transcription in Karmay 2013: 28 noting his citation (p. 26) to p. 97 of the manuscript is in error for p. 87. 169 For ethnobotanical records from the region, see Rock 1937: 11, Rock 1948, Feifei Li et al. 2015, Staub, Geck and Weckerle 2011, Hu Chien-min 1941: 7. 170 ‘The antecedent narrative of bKra-za gZig-’brang is wished for. It is the method (lugs) of the Phag bon gSas-khri.’ (bkra za gzIg ’brang gyI rabs la ’tshal lo / phag bon gsas khri’i lugs lags so /; Dga’ thang 52, 167, f. 37, l. 3-4), while the end of the same section reads, ‘The rite (bon) method of the Phag bon gSas-khri is completed.’ (phag bon gsas khri i [read: khri’i] bon lugs / rdzogs s+ho //; Dga’ thang: 54, 170, f. 40, l. 4). 171 For bon as ‘rite’ in older texts, see ch. 1 and n. 18 there. 172 See Stein 1971, Stein 2010 (i.e., his Tibetica Antiqua III and Tibetica Antiqua V), Bialek 2018 and Bialek 2015a, but also Blezer 2011 and Gurung 2011 for examples more specific to g.Yung-drung Bon. 173 Cf. Dga’ thang: 50, 161, f. 31, l. 6 with IOL Tib J 734: 8r324.

380

174 Cf. Dga’ thang: 52, 166, f. 36, l. 9 with IOL Tib J 738: 1v26. 175 PT 1134: 119-120, and see especially Bialek 2018, 1: 464-469 on transformation of Old Tibetan funeral terminology and vol. 2: 585 for a translation of the PT 1134 passage cited here. 176 PT 1042: 77, sman bon pos sman drangs lags, cf. also the sman bon who states a divination result in PT 1043: 72. 177 See the analysis in Bialek 2018, 2: 582-583 for the idea that se was possibly employed to avoid use of a taboo term; cf. also Stein 2010: 267. 178 See Dotson 2013: 135-136 for a translation of the narrative. 179 PT 1134: 189-190. 180 PT 1134: 252-254, bye’u khug sta’ / song na / mju [read: mjug] gi mtha [read: mtha’] za reg / bye’u sgeg sa song na / mjugi [read: mjug gi] drung za reg /, cf. parallel wording at l. 213-214 and l. 265-266. I derive ‘tickle’ from Classical Tibetan za ‘to itch’ and reg pa ‘to touch’. 181 F. Ca-2r, l. 3-4 (beneath painted panel) gshags [read: gshegs] shul brag la ’dren /, and f. Pa-2r, l. 3-4 (beneath painted panel) sman lam shul yang[?] mtshon /, cf. n. 148 above. 182 For example, in PT 1134 we find a crane hatch from an ordinary egg, l. 45 khrung khrung ni sngo rdol na /, and l. 62 khrung khru[ng] ni sgong rtold /. 183 PT 1060: 74. 184 Pointed out by Stein 2010: 150 n. 50. 185 This naming practice represents the genealogical patronymic linkage system widely found among highland speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages, but far less evident or absent among speakers of Tibetic languages; see Lo Ch’ang-p’ei 1945. 186 For the same rite sequence employed by Ya-ngal in the rnel dri ’dul ba rites, cf. also the wording gshed khung zur gsum brkos la / / de’i khar skyer phur bcu gsum gyIs bskor; Dga’ thang: 34, 133, f. 6, l. 5-6. Note the use of a “log which will block the way of the devils” in Lepcha death rites, when the soul of the deceased is dispatched to the ancestral realm by the mun shaman; Gorer 1984 [1938]: 358. 187 On rTa-bi, gZham-gling and Na’i (also Nas) in 1488 and 1498, see Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 102b, 1-2, f. 103b, 1 f. 120a, 4, and cf. Aris 1979: 129 on the form Na’i. 188 Kurtöp citima is also used for the same bird; cf. CT mchil pa Jäschke 1881: 165 ‘a little bird, sparrow’. 189 Instances are found in the manuscripts PT 1042 and PT 0126. For the term ring gur referring to a ‘body-tent’ in a similar context, see Bialek 2018: 395 n. 10 citing PT 239. 190 See Balikci 2008: 279-280 for an identical case of reform in death rites from Sikkim. 191 Tautscher 1996: 171 n. 46, Mumford 1989: 183-185. 192 Summarised from Pignède 1993 [1966]: 370 ff., fig. 33, plate XXVI 51, cf. Strickland 1982: 230-231, 254-246, Mumford 1989: 181 n. 1, 182 ff., and also Macdonald 1984: 155-156 n. 48 for related notes on Tamang rites in highland Nepal. 193 Mumford 1989: 183, 188. 194 Cf. the similar use of saplings with prayer flags in Tamang mortuary rites; Holmberg 1989: 194. 195 The practice of corpse disposal into a nearby river, which is widespread from far north-east Bhutan across to Tawang and down the Mon-Yul Corridor, has the number 108 for the ideal total of dismembered body parts disposed into the water.

Notes to pages 80–89

196 Schrempf 2010: 170-171. 197 Citations translated from the French text in Blondeau 1997: 202 and n. 30, 203, with original Tibetan passages on p. 219. 198 Löffler 2012, Brauns and Löffler 1990, Löffler 1966. 199 Löffler 2012: 508-509. 200 Löffler 2012: 365. 201 See, for example, the comments by Karmay 2009: 57, 63. 202 See Karmay 1996, whose a posteriori case for the sku bla mountain cult back into the Tibetan imperial era has been robustly questioned by Walter 2009: chapters 2 and 4, who developed points already anticipated by Stein in his Tibetica Antiqua essays. 203 See McKhann 2012: 280-281 for the distinction between Naxi village mountain deities that are one among a whole range of such local numina of the environment, and ancestors and their rites associated with rivers and sky. The records of premodern Qiang by Graham 1958 reveal mountains were very peripheral in their ritual culture.

16. R egiona l Or igi ns a n d Spr e a d of t h e Cu lt – Th e M igr a n t Leg ac y 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

8

9

10

Aris 1979: 114. Ardussi 2004: 70. In the Rgyal rigs, see Ku-ri-lung sTod (43a), Kho-long sTod-smad (15a, 21a). In the Rgyal rigs, see sGang-zur-stod (23b, 27a). Note that the ’i here is the usual written form of the ergative used in Dzala and Dakpa and written by speakers of those languages. Compare, for example, ‘Sumlamdoma’ in Sagant 1996: 113-114. These referents and similar ones date back to ca. eleventh century rabs narratives; see Dga’ thang: 18, 109 f. 25, l. 1., and 30, 125 f. 41, l. 5, and 51, 163 f. 33, l. 8-9. All technical data on the language, including a Vocabulary, the physical manuscript, its provenance and a facsimile for the Lha’i gsung rabs are found in appendix K, while translation issues are noted in footnotes below. I will merely add here that, while the Lha’i gsung rabs is a continuous narrative, its overall structure suggests logical divisions into a series of phases or parts. For the sake of easier reading, I have marked these divisions by parenthetically introducing my own numbered section headings into the translation. Note that the barely legible marginal pagination on the manuscript counts the cover/title folio recto as 1, its verso as 2 and the following recto as 3, after which it is regularly numbered on each recto folio. Original has gshen lha dgon po. Several bon shaman informants interpreted this as a synonym for gShen-lha ’Od-dkar, the primeval deity fairly commonly invoked in Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts and chants, and mentioned towards the end of this narrative and again in another text within the Bleiting 2 manuscript. This deity is invoked in other old texts for mundane rites in a similar manner. For example, he is described as lha rje ni gshen lha ’od dkar in the mdos rite titled Srid pa spyi skong snang srid spyi mdos composed by the otherwise unknown Sangs-po Khrin-khod, and on which Karmay

remarked “to all appearances the work is of ancient origins” (p. xii); see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 161-184. 11 For bshen rogs = gshen grogs, Snellgrove 1967: 206-207 has “Shen Brethren” from the Gzi brjid. 12 In local rabs, Kha-cig Ya-le and Kha-ni-yel are variants (and combinations) of older names for the upper levels of the sky world such as Kha-yel incorporating yel elements recorded in different redactions of the narrative of gNya’-khri bTsan-po’s descent; see ch. 2, nn. 87-88. 13 Variations of this name are applied to the fifteenth and seventeenth levels of the sky in different local texts used for calling down the deities from the top of the sky world, although the name does not occur in the older Tibetan narratives; see n. 87 of ch. 2. See Lawa 2, Text 12, Tshe phog dpal phog bzhugs sho, 1a: rim spang bcu gsum yang’i byon mo // kha ni yel bcu drug yang’i byon mo // spyi bo bzang thag bco lnga’i yang’i byon mo //, and Lawa 1, Text 2, gTor yab rgyas pa bzhugs so, 2a, 2-3: cho long rims spang bcu drug ’ jal do ’khug kye // spyi bo zang thang bcu bdun ’ jal do ’khug kye // rin po che’i spungs pa’i khri dang bco brgyad ’ jal do ’khug kye //. The construction in all cases directly recalls the language of dmu/rmu thag attached to the crown of the head (spyi bo), which in the Old Tibetan Chronicle is qualified by zang yag/zangs yag. Zeisler 2011: 122-123 relates it to zang thal, which both she and Dotson 2013: 267, 318 interpret as ‘all-penetrating’ and ‘translucent’; cf. also rmu ’brang zangs yag in Mkhas pa lde’u: 235 and rmu ’breng zang yag in Lde’u jo sras: 102, also Karmay 1972: 351-352 for dmu thag bzang yag in a recent g.Yung-drung Bon work. 14 These four lines are the positive opposite of the negative verses usually found in the Lha zhu rabs which are chanted in Srid-pa’i lha rites today, prior to inviting down the deities. They offer the reasons the lha must descend to earth: people have no proper (warm) clothes, their horses are wild like rkyang (i.e., without bridles and saddles), their cattle have no herders, and the birds have no feathers. These passages share the same motif found in the myth of the progenitor king, when those inviting him list what is lacking on earth; cf. the paraphrase in Karmay 1994: 418-419. 15 A staff (mkhar ba) is placed in the hand of gNya’-khri bTsan-po immediately before he descends from heaven with the dMu cord; Lde’u jo sras: 101-102. sTag-cha Yal-yol, the phywa father of the Srid-pa’i lHa-rabs mChed-bzhi, holds a golden sceptre (gser gyi ’gying ’khar) in heaven; Mkhas pa lde’u: 229. 16 For nam gyis mthang [read: mthong] yang phyes // sprin gyis sgo yang phyes here cf. the Grags-pa Bon-lugs redaction (Tibetan text in Haarh 1969: 411): gnam gyi mthong phye / sprin gyi sgo bsal, where mthong[s] refers to the smoke hole or ‘sky opening’ in the roof of tent or pre-modern house. 17 In response to an apparent haplography here, I have inserted this reconstructed line (zil sgo zi’u phyes se ras //), and moved the following three lines down from the beginning to the end of the then sequence of doors here, since all other versions logically start the sequence with nyi, zla, skar and end with zi’u (< rdzi), ’phrul (which I read as ’brug usually in the sequence) and dar. 18 In other local rabs, the gar mdung is mentioned as being a ‘ritual support’ (rten) for the lha and gsas; see the Tale of Father lHa-rje Ya-ba and n. 45 of ch. 14.

381

Notes to pages 89–90

19

The text has mu ’tig (CT mu tig) or ‘pearl’ in error here, where the text below and all other local manuscripts read ngel (CT dngul) ‘silver’; cf. also the gser dngul gyi phya thag in Rgyal rigs: 45b. An exception is in Lhau 2: 42a, 6-7 with the combination gold, turquoise and conch (gser ku mu thag / rgyu [read: g.yu] ku mu thag / dung ku mu thag /). This combination matches the symbolic substances coding the three gshen priests who descend with and ritually protect gNya’-khri bTsan-po (gser mi ya ngal, g.yu’i mi mtshe mi, dung mi co mi) in the redaction of his descent myth recorded in the Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 12a; Oslo ms. 27a; Nagchu ms. 21b; Lhasa Tenjur edition 33). 20 Nya shing (lit. ‘neck wood’) in the Khoma dialect of Dzala, but widely attested in Tibetan with the spelling gnya’ shing. The light mentioned is often associated with the passage of lha and phywa to and from the sky world via the rMu cord, and implies that their bodies consist of light. In early redactions of the gNya’-khri bTsan-po descent narrative, we read of the phywa progenitor kings ‘supported by the rMu ladder and the rMu cord, they departed to the sky in view of all the people, and the bodies of the lha dissolved into light without a corpse [being left behind]’ (rmu skas dang rmu ’breng gis brten nas skye bo thams cad kyis mthong par gung du gshegs te lha’i lus la ro med par ’od du yal); Lde’u jo sras: 102. In the Rgyal rigs: 32a, after ’O-de Gung-rgyal appears and pronounces the arrival of the U-ra gDung ancestor, he ‘dissolves into light’ (’od du zhu). 21 On the mythical etymology of the place name, see Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 57 n. 64. 22 For bsten/sten yul I read rten yul, following the discussion of dPa’-bo gTsug-lag and related sources in Dotson 2012: 167. 23 A variant of ’Phying-ba sTag-rtse. 24 For rten mkhar I read btsan pa’i mkhar, following the discussion of dPa’-bo gTsug-lag and related sources in Dotson 2012: 167. 25 Probably Thang-lha Yar-bzhur who, with Yar-lha Sham-po and ’Chims-lha Than-tsho in the sequence here, are all offspring of ’O-de Gung-rgyal in the gSang-ba Bon-lugs redaction of the gNya’-khri bTsan-po descent narrative; see Mkhas pa lde’u: 230. 26 Written rdong chod with the verbal construct zongs se bsel refers to offering of dong chang ‘meeting beer’ in spoken Dzala. The custom is still practiced in remote villages in the region, where visitors are met some distance before entering a village and served freshly prepared liquor as a welcome. 27 Dong than (also rdong bstan and variations) meaning dong (cf. CT gdong) ‘to meet’, than (cf. CT gdan) ‘seat’, ‘resting place’, refers to the local ritual sites were Srid-pa’i lha are invited and hosted on earth during worship in the Dzala speaking zone. Dog sa is the common equivalent term in other areas. 28 I interpret the repeating term b[r]tsel blang describing the bro here as a form of CT rtsal bslang, literally to ‘rise up agilely’, which is nowadays glossed mainly with lha mchong ‘lha jumping’. 29 Text B has na wan. 30 Original has kyal ’di; Text B has kyag ’di, cf. colloquial Dzala cha[g] badi and Kurtöp jabari for serow (Naemorhedus [Capricornus] sumatraensis). 31 ’Phag ’di is the wild pig (Sus scrofa), the mock hunting of which still forms a part of the na ban/wan offerings at various sites today.

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33 34 35

36

37

38

39

40

41

Here I read [khu ning gnam sa se ru gsum] // chis ke sar [rgya] skhyed rtse ras // following the lines khu ning gnam sa se ru gsum // chis ke sar rgya khyed rtse ras pa yin // and khu ning gnam sa se ru’i // sar rgya khyed rtse ras pa //, with Khu, gNam-sa and Se-ru indicated as agents by the Dzala ergative ’i. The name in exactly the same form occurs in Deb sngon: 337, as the birthplace of sPyil-bu-pa (b. 1121) of the Se clan. Sha ba yu mo < sha ba g.yu mo. Most probably the mountain deity associated with the sNyal-lha La, the 5227 metre pass connecting mTsho-sna with Lo-ro stod; see “Nyala La” 28°08’N, 92°13’E in Stearn 1976: 262. ’Phor dgu is more than literally ‘nine cups’, rather it marks a specific category of offering parallel to gyo dgu; cf. n. 68 below. The term is often enumerated below with du dgu or Dzala ‘nine’. Perhaps the enumeration should not be taken too literally in each case, but as a pluraliser, since ‘nine’ (dgu) is often used to stand for ‘many’ or ‘all’. Kha re is uncertain, but cf. Lhau 2: f. 23b, 3, yar lung gzo’ thang kha re babs se ras / ‘They descended and came directly to Yar-lung gZo’-thang’, cf. Goldstein 2001: 108 kha ri kha thug “direct, straight to the point” for acts such as speaking. In the Gru-shul area west of the upper Nyang-shang (i.e., Nyamjang) Chu, in a side valley immediately west of Gonga village, the upper and lower settlements are marked “Kotö” and “Kome” on map L500 NH 46-14. On map Tibet 1981, sGo-smad is located on the Nyang-shang Chu at the confluence with the Tsugs-khe Chu river running north-west in the same area as “Kotö” and “Kome” of map L500 NH 46-14. This is just north of the Gong La pass. The twin sites of Grong-stod and Grong-smad are mentioned in the Rgyal rigs (18a-b; cf. also Aris 1986: 80 n. 44 on Lo rgyus references) albeit without a firm location. Both were settled by sons of a figure named Khu-na whose ancestor was gNam-sa-’bangs; perhaps there is some connection with both the gNam-sa and Khu clans in the narrative here? sPang-chen (ca. 2020 metres) is an area with extensive (chen) flat meadows (spang thang) in the lower Nyang-shang Chu, traditionally having six Dakpa speaking communities locally known as the sPang-chen lDing-drug; see “Pangchen” 27°41’N, 91°48’E in Stearn 1976: 263. The unit ding (CT lding) typically classifies pastoralist communities in these southernmost Tibetan Plateau areas. dGrab-lha is the mountain deity associated with the 3880 metre “Dib La” or “Tribla” pass connecting the lower Nyang-shang Chu valley with the Kholong Chu valley to the west; see “Dib La” 27°36’N, 91°41’E in Stearn 1976: 265; “Tribla” on map 78 M/10. When travelling westwards from Mug-mthur in the Nyang-shang Chu valley during the fifteenth century, Padma Gling-pa n.d.: f. 90b, 2-4 crossed the sGrib La pass summit (rtse mo) to reach the Kho-long Chu valley. This name may be a linguistic hybrid describing some type of ‘trading place rock’ (in East Bodish languages gor = ‘stone/rock’; CT tshongs sa ‘trading place’). Tshongs-sa rGor-kha may also refer to Dongkar, sometimes written mDo-mkhar rDzong, and Gorpa or Gor, located on the Nyang-shang Chu directly upstream of sPang-chen just mentioned in the narrative sequence, with the Gor-pu La pass (5400 metres) immediately east of it leading to the trading hub

Notes to pages 90– 91

of mTsho-sna; see “Dongkar” 28°09’N, 91°55’E and “Gorla” 28°09’N, 91°55’E in Stearn 1976: 261. A “Gor” and “Gor pu La” village are marked on Bailey’s map a few kilometres downstream of Dongkar; see Bailey and Morshead 1914: map, Bailey 1957: 242. The map Ward & Cawdor 1926 has a “Torgor La” marked northwest of mTsho-sna. 42 Most likely lDan is the gDengs or Tang of the maps (map Tibet 1981; map L500 NH 46-13) along the lHo-brag Shar Chu (= gTam-shul Chu). It is between the areas of rGong-stod and rGong-smad (“Kotö” and “Kome” of the maps, see n. 38 above) to the east, and lHo-brag mKho-mthing to the west, exactly as the narrative sequence suggests here. The lDan name and location both suggest Ban-pa, an old administrative outpost of the g.Yo-ru in this same area; see Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 239-240. 43 This is sGyid[-mkhar] in lHo-brag, mentioned in the mKhan-pa-ljong narrative as the site of Khyi-kha Ra-thod’s stronghold (mkhar); Aris 1979: 66, 306 n. 18. 44 For no’u ge here see the discussions of nyi gri in ch. 17 and appx. J. 45 Original has gNam-’dir-zhe; here and below I have opted for the gNam-’dor-zhe variant of f. 14a since this reflects the most common written form in other manuscripts found in the Dzala and Dakpa language area, as well as the spoken form Namdorzhe. 46 I read kyi ri ’u yas here, and the immediately following kyi kha ra’i (see f. 8a, 1; a parallel version reads kyi kha ra) as variants of the name Khyi-kha Ra-thod, the refugee king from the mKhan-pa-ljong narrative which begins in lHo-brag; see Aris 1979: 60-70, 301-305. Note that our narrative fixes him in lHo-brag, and not further southwards down the Kuri Chu valley in the Kurtö region of proto-Bhutan where he is said to have later migrated according to Padma Gling-pa’s version of the story. 47 The name rGyal-blon-be relates to the Khyi-kha Ra-thod myth. Aris 1979: 78, 306 n. 25 reported the oral tradition that Khyi-kha Ra-thod’s “descendants are said to live in the village of rGyal-mkhar (or rGyal-blon-mkhar [pronounced Jelkhar]) a mile or so south of Bya-dkar rDzong in Bumthang”; cf. the reference to rGyal-blon-sa discussed at the same site by Klong-chen-pa in 1355 (p. 79). 48 La Mo (4115 metres) is ‘Hamo’ located on the trade route north from Seng-ge rDzong Ne-ring-thang (4236 metres), after crossing both the Kang La pass (4937 metres, locally called Geng La) and Bö La pass (4968 metres, or Bod La), and before descending westwards into the lHo-brag Shar Chu valley. When Ludlow and Sherriff crossed this route in 1933, they identified the campsite and river running down to the lHo-brag Shar Chu valley here as the “Hamo Chu”; see Fletcher 1975: 37, and “Hamo” 28°05’N, 91°08’E in Stearn 1976: 265. 49 Me La pass (4556 metres) is due west of the Dakpa speaking village of Mon Legs-po, and connects the Nyang-shang Chu catchment with the upper Kholong Chu basin via the Cho La pass. Padma Gling-pa n.d.: f. 90a, 1 crossed the Me La and Chu La (or Cho La, see n. 50 below) passes in 1487; see map U502 NG 46-2, and “Me La” 27°58’N, 91°37’E in Stearn 1976: 266, plus the photo in Fletcher 1975: 26-27. 50 The Cho La pass (4968 metres) connects Rong just west of the Nyang-shang Chu, via the Me La pass, with Shingbe (Zhing-sbin on map Tibet 1981) in the upper Kholong Chu basin. Padma Gling-pa

51

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54 55

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n.d.: f. 90a, 1 reads Chu La; see map L500 NH 46-14, and “Cho La” 28°03’N, 91°46’E in Stearn 1976: 265. Also Rug-gsum in the manuscript. According to local informants, Rus-gsum designates hillside areas along the true right (i.e., west) bank of the Kholong Chu river, upstream of the modern bridge and forest checkpost north of Tashiyangtse township. The area is not to be confused with the eighteenth century ’Brug-pa bKa’-brgyud site called Risum (map 78 M/6, premodern written forms Rigs-gsum and Ri-gsum) located on the true left (i.e., east) bank opposite Bumdeling. Shel-phu (also bShel-phu below), or Sherphu (map 78 M/6), refers to the highland area above and south-west of the Bumdeling area along the upper Kholong Chu, which forms the watershed ridge with the upper Khoma Chu valley to the west. Probably a peak or high point (rtse) above the village now named Tshaling (map 78 M/6) on the true right (i.e., west) bank of the Kholong Chu above Tashiyangtse, and due east of the Shel-phu highlands mentioned here in the text. When travelling westwards from the Nyang-shang Chu valley via the sGrib La pass into the Kholong Chu valley during the fifteenth century, Padma Gling-pa n.d.: f. 90b, 2-4 visited the Cha-ling [d]Gon-pa in what must be this location. This is an area above the present-day Bumdeling village of rTa-’phel, on which see “Tārphe” or “Tāripo” on map 78 M/6. Unidentified. Local informants identified a Sergom with a flat area on the banks of the Drangmae Chu river below the present Jamkhar Gewog (cf. also Rgyal rigs: 12b), but that is too far removed from all the other toponyms here. The name designated this area already in late fourteenth and fifteenth century travel accounts; see Shes rab Me ’bar: 20b, l. 1-23a, l. 3, Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 90a, 2, and the discussion later in this chapter. My understanding of the wording spyiku smu yab kha’ here is very tentative: spyiku is perhaps a form of chi ke ‘then’; smu was unknown to Dzala speaking informants, but it suggests the Kurtöp deictic locative adverb mau ‘down [relative to a centre]’ (see Hyslop 2017: 164); for yab kha’ I read yar kha ‘above’ (cf. elsewhere mag kha ‘below’). The sPang La (4270 metres) pass is on the well-known local route from the upper Kholong Chu valley west over into the Khoma valley via Tsango, and is located just south of Nyong La peak; see map U502 NG 46-2, “Pang La” on map 78 M/6, and “Pang La” 27°44’N, 91°18’E in Stearn 1976: 263. Various languages in the region (e.g., Dakpa, Dzala, Kurtöp, Tshangla, Mey/Sherdukpen, etc.), define phu as any highland area (referring to a hill, mountain, ridge or pass) and the class of deities who dwell in these zones. Here the notion of deity is missing from the use of the term. Informants identified this as an area now called Yurubreng at Bumdeling, near the Seb village. It may also be the Tobrang on maps, referring to a settlement (and now police check post) where one ascends from Bumdeling to the sPang La pass; see Fletcher 1975: 33, “Tobrang” on map 78 M/6. Original has khu rmrang zhe.

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63 64 65

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69 70 71

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Khri gtang du dgu; the various altars currently used in Srid-pa’i lha festivals are often referred to as khri, literally ‘throne’, while some of them, such as those constructed in the mid-Kuri Chu valley, still have nine shelves. In these three verses, I understand the spatial scheme bce, zab and brab as reflecting Tibetan rtse, zab mo and bar. The meaning of the terms gtang nge, yang nge and um me in these three lines is unknown. Rgya sho must be equivalent to CT sgyed po/bu/pu, the tripod hearth-stand, often formed of three stones set in the ground (thab rdo) or an iron ring with three legs, which supports pots over the fire pit. The meaning accords perfectly with the sequence of items listed here and further below, and exactly as used for preparing the beer in Srid-pa’i lha worship. Kham rgom bul, a term no longer in use, but designating a large pot or container for holding the ‘fermented grain’ (spoken kham or khem) used to brew local beer (bangchang); see notes below. Khas kyed are small wicker baskets made of thin woven bamboo strips which function as strainers for local beer-making. When immersed into a large pot of fermented grain mixed with water, the bangchang liquid flowing into the khas kyed strainer can be ladled out for serving with the rgyo ladle (see below). This practice is used directly in Srid-pa’i lha rites for the bangchang offered to the deities, since this can only be of the best and strongest first brew called phud. The same type of bamboo wicker strainer, called ghûgh-ssû, is also regarded as a ritual tool by the Naxi; see Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 123, cf. Rock 1963: 120. Gyo dgu < rgyo dgu is more than literally ‘nine ladles’, rather it marks a specific category of offering, here enumerated with Dzala du dgu ‘nine’, which may also indicate ‘many’ as it does in Tibetan. The rgyo (spoken chok in Dzala, cô or co in Kurtöp) often refers to a small ladle traditionally made from a dried gourd that is commonly used by bon shamans. Cf. also f. 17a, 6: pa lo rgyan se /, ‘the pa lo was decorated’. On the pa lo (sometimes spa lo in other manuscripts) see ch. 7, 9, 12 and 17. Mo is used as the feminine of lha, as in CT lha mo. Original has bkrung and below consistently grong, which is closest to the spoken form. This class of bon shamans now only exists in an active role at Tsango, although other communities had them in the past. The term rgyal here and below (f. 17b), can only be read as a general term for a type of ritual specialist in context together with sgrung and such terms. This is also the local oral interpretation of the term in the text. I assume it is related to the rgya ~ rgyal complex describing rites and ritual specialists in Old Tibetan, and which occurs in PT 1042; see Bialek 2018, 1: 464-469 and vol. 2: 198 n. 2, 243, 302. As further possible evidence of this, we find a pattern of rgyal use in the names of specialists in texts for mundane rites and myths, but particularly in older sources. Examples include the rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re in the present Lha’i gsung rabs, the ’o bon rGyal-snyan (see citations in ch. 14), Ra-ljags sKyi-rgyal and tshe myi rMu-rgyal in the dGa’-thang manuscripts, and rgyal gshen The’u-yug in the Klu ’bum (see citations in ch. 15).

73

Original has ’ang la. This is highly likely the Wang La hill located north of Lawa village and west of Khema, and site of the territorial deity of Lawa. Wang names are closely associated with this area. A Wang lineage (rgyud) is mentioned below (f. 19b), while the Wang-ma-mkhar stronghold was built by the Wang-ma clan at sGang-zur-stod, which may in fact refer to Lawa situated high above (stod) the present Gangzur village along the sKu-ri valley; Rgyal rigs: 27a-28b. 74 In Khoma dialect of Dzala, langtang refers to the flat space in front of a house used for domestic tasks or gathering. 75 The rgyal gnyan element in the name is ambiguous. It may be a title meaning ‘powerful rgyal’ where rgyal refers to a ritual specialist; see n. 72 above. The rgyal gnyan rgyal sequence also suggests overlaps with various rabs in regional circulation describing the ’o gnyen rite administered to the rgyal [po] deities by a ritual specialist named ’o bon rGyal-snyan, with the wording: ’o bon rgyal snyan rgyal la ’o snyen gsol /; see Gortshom 1, text Ga: f. 6b, 1. 76 The recurring phrase bshal tshi bshel zan (and variations: bshel tshi bshel zan, gshal tshi bshel zan, etc.) refers to grain-based ingredients used in ritual. CT shel tshigs refers to “a mixture of roasted barley grains, part of which are scorched to give it a black colouring” and used in the preparation of glud offering items (Namkhai Norbu 1995: 254 n. 31; Karmay 1998: 389, Karmay 1972: 351 has zhugs shangs as a synonym), while zan is flour for cooking into a porridge from which effigies and cakes are fashioned for rites. 77 Also written Cu-thang-gar in other local ritual texts, this is the highland area of the Chhodīgāng Chu valley (map 78 M/6) immediately west of modern Bumdeling. 78 Original has bshel < gsel, thus gsel khan lon khan, literally ‘one who offers [and] one who carries’. 79 Wag pa zur is a special term designating the end phase of various Srid-pa’i lha worship festivals in the Kuri Chu and Khoma Chu valleys. 80 This meaning was given by informants; in written khad dpon the khad is likely = CT skad. 81 Gyeng La is the Geng La (also written Kang La) pass between Seng-ge rDzong and Lho-brag mKho-mthing; on U502 sheet NG 46-1 it is marked Gong La. 82 This is the Kharchu La at the top of Seng-ge rDzong area, on the Tibet side of the border leading east-west; see U502 sheet NH 46-13. 83 This is apparently Zhongar (premodern spelling gZhong-sgar), an area along the mid-Kuri Chu valley around and just west of Mongar Dzong. 84 The zhel de was a ritual assistant for the na ban offerings of the carcass of a wild game animal, which requires a fire to be kindled (for Tsango see ch. 9). According to the entry below (f. 19b), the zhel de also acted as cook for the ritual specialists. The term no doubt relates to Old Tibetan zhal ta pa indicating a ritual assistant to lha bon po, dur bon po and sku gshen specialists in various rites recorded in Old Tibetan documents; see especially the various references in PT 1042, also Lalou 1953, Haarh 1969: 368-370, 375 and van Schaik 2013: 244, 246-248, 253. 85 This is the name of the gdams ngag spell possessed by the lhami in Tsango today; the title of his main ritual text is [g]Dam[s] ngags phig[s] pa tshig gsum bzhugs so.

Notes to pages 92– 94

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Chin khal mag la bya mo khri wag kha’i kye kyag se nis /. The sentence is unclear as Khal-mag[-la] could be a proper name; cf. the place names Kyed-te-mag and Srol-mag-’khar below. Original has skyed ti mag; I have converted all instances to the most common form Kyed-te-mag. This is a ritual site in the Bumdeling area along the upper Kholong Chu valley above Da village. It is mentioned repeatedly as dong stan sKed-rte-ma in a ritual text formerly used by the Srid-pa’i lha ritual specialists of Seb and Da in Bumdeling; see Da 1, Text 4. Spoken Lembu or Lhembu is the current local name of the river flowing down from the sPang La highlands into the Bumdeling area along the upper Kholong Chu valley, and which divides Seb village from Da village before its confluence with the Kholong Chu. sNyong La is a mountain peak (ca. 5050 metres) located immediately due north of the sPang La pass. It is regarded as seat of a territorial deity by the present-day Tsango community living in the Khoma Chu valley, and by migrant lineages from Tsango who settled in upper Bumdeling. Khab-bla-glang is probably Thāblaur (marked as a ‘grazing ground’ on map 78 M/6) above the east bank of the Kholong Chu in Bumdeling. In Dzala, Khab-bla-glang means ‘field (leng/lang) for the Khab-bla [festival]’ to designate the site of a Srid-pa’i lha festival. The same name is used as a technical description of the main ritual ground for the Lhamoche festival at Tsango in the Khoma Chu; see ch. 9. Dang shing, here figuratively meaning ‘home’ or ‘domestic place’, is the term used widely in the region for the traditional horizontal wooden rail inside the house for hanging clothing and blankets on. It is often suspended from the ceiling beams by a rope at each end, but can also be supported on a stand. Throughout the region, the dang shing is often the basis for constructing ritual altars of the muitang (mos gtang) type. The local significance of nor for wives here is that, in Khoma valley, neighbouring parts of sKur-stod and at scattered site throughout Tawang, normative marriage is uxorilocal with the majority of fixed property (house, land, livestock) inherited by the eldest or most able daughter in a family. Thus, such increase for a wife benefits the fortunes of an entire household. Dngos grub in local Srid-pa’i lha cult contexts is always understood by informants in terms of the general concepts of ’dod dgu and yon tan, rather than its technical Buddhist meaning. Khro-ma-brgyan is the name of one of the main ritual sites (dongthan) for worship of Gurzhe and Namdorzhe ancestral deities at Tsango today. It is located at the foot of the ruined village site of Tsango. The same name is also used for one of main ritual sites for staging Srid-pa’i lha festivals at Lawa. Original has phog mer skad po < phrum mar skad po as above. The break here is at f. 14a, 7. I have not hesitated to omit the eight folio sides 14b-18a from this translation. That section merely details further local debates over the appointment of ritual specialists and establishment of worship, continuing to mention lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re as the ‘outside’ priest who arrived from the east, and repeat themes already introduced. The text is sometimes obscure,

with personal and place names for which we have no reference, adding little to understanding the overall direction of the narrative. 97 Srengs, sengs, seng. This refers to a form of ‘bootstrap divination’ (CT lham sgrog mo) or cord divination, a common practice in all Tibetan areas to the north. In Dakpa dialects lham seng is the ‘bootstrap’, which is tied horizontally around the calves to hold up traditional Tibetan-style boots with long cloth uppers; cf. also Dakpa and Dzala seng for ‘trap’ made with a noose, and kangsang in Kurtöp. Elsewhere in local rabs, a priest’s bootstrap is described as a ju thig, which also refers to a divination cord (mo skud) specifically used by gshen and bon specialists for divination. 98 The border of the ancient Yo-ru was the southernmost Tibetan Plateau up to the north flanks of the Himalayas, thus the Wang clan area mentioned here is being located within the research area as we know it be from other records; see following note. 99 This could refer to the Wang-ma clan known from the Rgyal rigs genealogies, whose early founder, Wang-ma ’Gab-sde-btsan, went to sGang-zur-stod located next to and associated with later Lawa village at the confluence of the Khoma Chu and Kuri Chu valleys, and made this his stronghold named Wang-ma-mkhar; see Rgyal rigs 23b, 27a, and my account in ch. 7 and nn. 147-148 there. Further old Wang identities, associated with [g]Dung peoples, occur in far western Bhutan; Aris 1979: 88-89, 123. 100 rGyal-phu was one of the original settlement areas of old Tsango in the Khoma Chu. A site named rGyal-phu-mkhar, the location of an old ruined stone building above the village of Cheng in Bumdeling, is an offering site where worshippers who are descendants of former Tsango migrants erect sets of ritual pennants (panshing) as a substitute for not going to attend the Lhamoche festival at Tsango. It is unclear which of these rGyal-phu named sites in the two adjacent valleys is the namesake of the other, yet in the narrative here the reference is to the Bumdeling site. 101 bSeb ’phongs bur rgyud ma ha neg /. Here ma ha following the verb marks future as does –ma and -male in Kurtöp or –m in Dakpa. 102 According to Guntram Hazod (pres. comm. 2013), the Tshe-spong clan of Yar-stod had its territory next to that of the Khu clan. The original spelling here is bSeb-’phongs, a form unknown from other contexts. 103 Colloquial rmrog […] kes refers to the ‘gulping’ (rmrog) ‘sound’ (kes) when ‘water’ (tshi) is drunk, and is similar to CT khrog ‘to drink hastily, to gulp down’ Jäschke 1881: 52; cf. below f.19b tshi ’thong na smrog ske ’thong ri’ // ‘When drinking water, I will drink with a gulping noise!’ Local consultants could not clarify why the rmrog and kes elements are divided in this sentence, but recognised the overall meaning as ‘drinking’. 104 Phos gra refers to a measure of grain for offerings and/or the container that holds it. In Kurtöp, a phuya represents “the approximate volume of uncooked grain that one person would eat”; Hyslop 2017: 138 and the container used to measure that, while both terms are perhaps related to Dakpa phui or phee for a ‘measuring cup’ or ‘pot’; Bodt 2012: 282, Lhama Wangchu 2002: 83. 105 Colloquial rgyal kye lit. ‘the sound (kye) rgyal’ refers to the noise made when ‘slurping’ and ‘gulping’, cf. note 103 above on rmrog kes.

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106 Da spags cf. CT spag, a staple food of parched flour mixed/cooked with liquids into a dough. 107 Uncertain: I read nya for nga here. 108 Original has zhel ’di, see zhel de above. 109 This location, meaning ‘Dung stronghold’, is nowadays unknown in the upper Kholong Chu valley. 110 This is Jāpang (Kangteng) village (map 78 M/6) on the east bank of the Kholong Chu in Bumdeling. 111 This is Lambrak village (map 78 M/6) on the east bank of the Kholong Chu in Bumdeling. 112 Uncertain: the wording du ru kyabs se not understood. 113 Original has kru’u ’e. 114 Original has khob glang. 115 These first two lines, mi ’byong brog ne kho long ru // rba ’byong brog ne sher re ru //, are a version of a statement found in many cult texts from the Dzala and Dakpa language area citing arrival of the first ancestral clans in the region, the Mi and the rBa, for example cf. Lhau 2: 2a, 1-2: mi byong kho long yul ke byong se / ba byong she re yul ke byong se /. I read the brog verb (ne marks past tense) as CT [’]phrog[s] ~ dbrog, and this is supported by occurrence of the Dzala verb rnam[s] (cf. CT nom[s], mnam[s]) ‘take possession’ describing the first actions after arrival in parallel texts; cf. nn. 19-20 of ch. 7. The ru verb ‘to wake up’, ‘awaken’ is cognate with Kurtöp ’ru (Hyslop 2017: 69, 193), western Tani forms like hu-ru (see STEDT database etymon #6664 PTani *ɦut² WAKE UP, records for Bokar in Sun J 93 HCST, Huang and Dai 92 TBL 1739.24; accessed 14 January 2017), and Galo –uu, uunam (see Galo Language Development Committee 2009: 31-32). 116 This deity is also mentioned in a similar list in the Lha mchod bzhugs so section of Lawa 1, Text 2, f. 28a, 6: ‘In the settlement area, the hamlet and the stronghold, all three, the lha Pan-ta was worshipped’ (grong yul mkhar gsum na / lha ni pan ta gsol btab /). The deity ’Jo-bo dPan-sta was also invoked to descend to Khrimu village (Yu’i-mo Khrid-mo) in Tawang; see n. 66 of ch. 12. 117 This is Drang-nga-mkhar located somewhere between Dag-pa-nang and La-’og Yul-gsum areas of Tawang. The spellings Gre-nga-mkhar and Greng-lnga-mkhar occur in Hoongla 5: 81b, l. 2-5, 82a, l. 3. It is mentioned as one of three strongholds occupied by migrants from southern Tibet in a document dating to 1756: de’i dus tshod na yul ber mkhar stong dpon rgyang ’di’i zung / ’od mkhar stong dpon bsam grub kyi[s] zung nas yod / drang nga mkhar sbed mis zung nas yod /; Khyung gdung rabs, f. 13a, 2-4. The reference to sBed-mi here highly likely refers back to the earlier mention of the Dag-pa Be-mi cited in both the Rgyal rigs: 27a and Lo rgyus: 20a; Aris 1986: 108-109. 118 rTseng-mi was a small kingdom or chiefdom localised in the Sher-re Chu valley and mentioned in the Rgyal rigs (Aris 1986: 12b, 17a, p. 80 n. 37) and the Lo rgyus (Aris 1986: 12a, 20a, 21b). The name may relate to the older ethnonym Tsang-mi occurring in the Lho brag chos ’byung of 1565 as one component population within the realm of the Mon kings who maintained relations with Tibetan Karma-pa lamas; see Aris 1979: 102, 107, 306 n. 13, who was of the opinion the Tsang-mi here were “[...] now the Tshangla speakers of eastern Bhutan spilling over into Kameng” (p.107). 119 Tsango in the upper Khoma valley, whose main lha is Gurzhe; see ch. 9.

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120 The deity list in Bleiting 7: 1-2 has the lha of bZhong-mi Lum-pa named as Chus-zhes Ngag-lha-sangs and elsewhere in the same text (f. 3b, 2) as Chu-zhes Ngag-lhags-mo, while a similar list in the Lha mchod bzhugs so section of Lawa 1, Text 2, f. 28a, 6 states, ‘Chu-zhe Ngag-lha-mo is worshipped by the eight clans of gZhong-mi’ (gzhongs mi rus brgyad gyis chu zhe ngag lha mo gsol btab /). Chu[s]-zhe Ngag-lha-mo is the name of the main Srid-pa’i lha deity worshipped by the five-settlement Khoma collective in the lower Khoma Chu valley. Thus, it seems this area was once named bZhongs-mi and the Khoma Chu valley itself was called bZhong-mi Lum-pa. In the context of the rabs texts used in the cult and the Lha’i gsung rabs, the name perhaps recalls unidentified Old Tibetan Zhong-yul Dam-drug, with its Zhong rje Drum-po and Zhong gshen Lon-shin Thang-po, in the ritual antecedent narratives of PT 1285: r20-r21, r93, r180-r181. 121 The khral pa households of Zhamling/bZham-leng in Kurtö, located next to Shawa, worshipped Grang-bya gzhog ma, or ‘younger sister’ Grang-bya who is the sororal sibling to Shawa’s deity A’u or ‘elder sister’ Grang-bya-mo, until the Srid-pa’i lha lineage households migrated from Zhamling upstream to Tabi in Kurtö and transferred the deity to the latter site. Both rTa-bi and gZham-gling were villages visited in 1488 and 1498 by Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 102b, 1-2, 120a, 4. 122 She’u refers to Shawa in Kurtö, where A’u Grang-bya-mo is now worshipped. At nearby Lawa/Lha’u, above the confluence of the Kuri Chu and Khoma Chu rivers, the present Srid-pa’i lha deity (or deities?) Abu ‘elder sister’ Yum-gsum [gra/dra-ba] is worshipped. 123 The deity name ’Khar-phu here recalls the most common name for the annual Srid-pa’i lha festivals in Chocha-ngacha speaking parts of the Kuri Chu and Khengkha speaking regions of the Jamkhar Chu valley and surroundings. ’Khar-phu as a deity name contradicts the various folk etymological speculations about the Khengkha and Chocha-ngacha spoken form Kharpu as festival names; see Dorji Penjore 2004: 50, Dorji Penjore 2009: 169, Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 126. 124 bZhing-leng is Chhengling on the east bank of the Kuri Chu, two and a half kilometres south of its confluence with the Khoma Chu and Nyalamdung. This location fits with the other names from the same adjacent areas preceding it here. 125 Elsewhere (f. 20a) Kha-bing-mog is mentioned as being together with Khab-bla-glang (see n. 90 above), and thus in Bumdeling above the east bank of the Kholong Chu. 126 Uncertain. Very likely this is Ya-lang on the south bank of the Grang-ma’i Chu, overlooking its junction with the Kholong Chu. Its placement after a Kholong Chu site and before Muktur (i.e., Mug-rtur) in the list implies this location. 127 In Dakpa, ngan-te means ‘day time’. 128 Mug-rtur (Muktur on map U502 NG 46-2), is an old community on the west bank of the lower Nyang-shang Chu, yet with no known Srid-pa’i lha worship during modern times. Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 84, 5, 90b, 2-4 visited Mug-mthur twice when travelling along the Nyang-shang Chu valley in 1487. 129 The name occurs for a brother of Gurzhe in the sky world in Srid-pa’i lha chants from the middle Kuri Chu, in the narrative of the dice

Notes to pages 94–102

130 131 132

133

134

135 136

137

138 139 140

141

142

143

game (sho rabs) to decide which lha will descend to earth; Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 133. This is Kham-pa in the Tawang district, also known as lHa’u, an old base of the Kham-pa Jo-bo clan. lCe is [b]Se[-ru] as its placement between Kham (i.e., Lhau) and Kha-rtsing (i.e., Kha-steng) strongly implies. This refers to Kha-steng (Kharteng on map 78 M/10), located on the east bank of the lower Nyang-shang Chu in present-day Lumla Circle. On the Kha-steng zhal ngo, see n. 8 of ch. 12. The spelling Kha-rtsing occurs in the Rgyal rigs: 42b-43a (cf. Rgyal rigs 2: 125) in a name which seems closely related: Kha-rtsing Las-kyi rDo-rje, one of the three rDo-rje brothers from lHo-brag claimed as ancestors of various local rulers known collectively as the dpon chen zhal ngo. He is said to have originally settled and taken power in Tshi-rab sTong-phu Zhang-tshan, the modern Tongphuzhangtsen above the mDo-gsum junction of the Kholong Chu and Grang-med Chu. As the crow flies, this is a distance of some twenty kilometres from Kha-steng. This is Khet village, on the south bank of the Tawang Chu directly opposite the Tawang Monastery. Nanda 1982: 51, 112 reported on what she called “ancient Bon gods” in the village, mentioning the deity Gudpi (cf. the Godpi peak of map 78 M/15), which is very likely related to the written dGos-blangs in the text here, the initial syllable of which would be pronounced gö (for dgos-) or göb (for dgos-b). The Amālung Chu (map 78 M/6) is a main tributary of the lower Khoma Chu running up to the Shel-phu (or Sherphu) highlands and peak of the same name, and the Sib-sib La pass route eastwards to Tashiyangtse. Khri-dung is the strategically placed settlement nowadays named Khetong located high above and south of the confluence of the Khoma Chu and Amālung Chu rivers. See, for example, Aris 1979: 7, 45, 134, 297. A mantra with the forms A dkar sa le ’od A yam Oom ’du and A dkar sa le A yam brum ’du occurs in the text for a mdos rite titled Srid pa spyi skong snang srid spyi mdos composed or recorded by the otherwise unknown Sangs-po Khrin-khod; see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 161-184. In introducing the manuscript, Karmay remarked “to all appearances the work is of ancient origins” (p. xii). See n. 72 of ch. 16 on rgya ~ rgyal, cf. also PT 1286: 55 for the Old Tibetan royal name rGyal-to-re Longs-brtsan of a purported early ruler. See n. 120 above. Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 119b, 5-6. Kurtöp and Dzala shong ‘valley’, Dzongkha gshong ‘narrow valley’, CT zhong ‘lower, nether (part)’, and [g]shong[s] ‘valley’, shong du ‘down hill’; Jäschke 1881: 479, 563. For example, see the settlement names and toponyms Zhangzhong, Pholhazhong and Nangkhar zhong on map 78 M/2, while Serzhong and Ozhong are place names in nearby Kurtö. On map 8, the uncertain location of Yi-lan, which is very likely modern Yalang (see n. 126 above), is signalled by the ? character within its circular placement marker. Parallel forms of the phrasing gung phub/sa stin (read: dgung phub/ sa gting) and gnam kha’i ru tsam cig [...] / sa ting drug [read: grang?] tsam cig [...] / occur in a variety of cosmogonies in regional rabs, and the Lhau 2 version appears to be a recorded oral version of them; cf.

144 145

146

147 148 149 150 151 152

153

Thempang 1: 4a, 3-4: dgung ni kha’i rug tsam gcig chags // dgung kha’i rug tsam gyis brgya bskyed pa //. Chig ku is a variation of Dzala chig ke and Dakpa echik, ‘then’, ‘now then’. Lhau 2, 1b-2a: ha ho kyi’i ha ho kyi’i / dang po dus te / sngon du[s] te / bskal pa dus te / rje dus te / thog ma dus te / gung phub ku dus te / sa ni stin pu dus te / yu ra tes na ne / gnam kha’i ru tsam cig ye le le neg se ba / mu ra tes na ne / sa ting drug [? or read: grang] tsam cig phya phya la la neg se ba / [2a] // chig ku bar ku skal pa le ne / mi byong kho long yul ke byong se / ba byong she re yul ke byong se / chig ku dus tshod le ne / mi chas lha ning chas pu dus le / rta chas rga ning chas pu ku dus le / g.yag chas rnga ning chas pu ku dus le / phyugs chas rdzi ning chas pu dus le /. A Bhutanese scholar suggested to me that Mi and [r]Ba simply refers to ‘men and cows’. There are many reasons to reject such an interpretation, for instance: the narratives use verbs of agency in relation to both identities which only apply to humans (not cows); the same contexts never use ba for ‘cow’, but rather the generic phyugs ‘livestock’ when mentioning such animals, or they use g.yag in some cases; and both identities have widely occurring cognates in clan and autonymic names within the region. See n. 115 above. Rgyal rigs: 27a and the Lo rgyus: 20a-20b. Jäschke 1881: 464-465, Goldstein 2001: 959. Ardussi 2007: 17 n. 36, cf. Aris 1986: 78 n. 7. Ardussi 2007: 13-14, Aris 1986: 79 nn. 25, 26, 27. Firstly, the Rgyal rigs was compiled by a Buddhist cleric who apparently hailed from bKra-shis-sgang area where he composed the work, and thus – judging by recent patterns of language distribution – was himself highly likely a native Tshangla speaker. This appears confirmed by the fact that almost all of his named, elite sponsors also hailed from what we know to be Tshangla speaking areas. In general, then, it seems the Rgyal rigs was requested and compiled by ‘southerners’ representing more of a Tshangla ethnolinguistic background, and who, as part of their enterprise, also collected or composed certain narratives concerning other ethnolinguistic areas to their north. This is no doubt why the Rgyal rigs contains virtually no details for any of the three northern river valleys, namely the Kholong Chu, Khoma Chu and Kurtö, in which we currently find many old manuscripts with narratives about the Mi and [r]Ba, including the Lha’i gsung rabs. It may also be that the compiler of the Rgyal rigs merely reported a story passed down from the by then very Buddhist members of the Jo-bo clan complex from the Dakpa speaking area, such as the Kham[s]-pa Jo-bo at Lhau, and that they themselves reframed Mi Zim-pa in relation to glorious Tibetan Buddhist ancestors. Sherdukpen and alternative identities for this population are all based upon twin referents to settlements now known as Rupa and Shergaon. Sherdukpen derives from an ethnonym coined by Dakpa and Tibetan speakers to the north citing the names Sher and Tug-pan-pa (or lTug-span), apparently referring to two settlement areas – thuk means ‘village’ in spoken Mey/Sherdukpen – and originally written together as Sher-stug gnyis and later Sher-stug-pan; see Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas ca. 1826: 11b, 12b, 29a, 30b. The name Senjithongji, first reported only during the mid-twentieth century, incorporates

387

Notes to pages 102–108

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155

156

157

158 159

160 161 162

163

164

165 166

388

the Mey/Sherdukpen social classifier ji (cf. jrin ‘man’). Early British records cite the “Rooprai Ganw and Sher Ganw Bhutias”; MacKenzie 1884: 18. First reported as Mei in Rinchin Dondrup 1988: Introduction, and Mey in Blench 2011, while Bodt 2014: 222 reported the spoken variations “Möö [møː] in Shergaon or Mee [meː] in Rupa.” Aside from their oft-discussed eligibility for posa, this contact can be considered to have begun in earnest when “in 1876, the Sherdukpen Rajas of Shergaon and ‘Rupraigaon’ were specifically invited to the Darbar at Tezpur when Queen Victoria was proclaimed Empress [...] in 1876, 3,600 tribesmen were present.”; see Elwin 1959: 353. For example, different versions of the Mee or Sherdukpen origin narrative were recorded a decade after J.P. Mills’ 1945 record (Mills 1948) which I am using here. Recordings during the mid-1950s by Verrier Elwin 1958: 120-122, and the late 1950s by Rakesh Sharma 1961: 5-7, both followed very extensive contact with the Indian administration and its ‘tribal’ political classification. These latter tales are thus far less specific concerning internal social distinctions, and more concerned with defining Sherdukpen as a unitary group in relation to neighbouring peoples. The same pattern is found in the reported narrative elements compiled by Bodt 2014b: 168-170. See Mills 1922, Mills 1926 and Mills 1937, and comments in Oppitz, Kaiser, von Stockhausen and Wettstein 2008: 21. On the political background to Mills’ 1945 visit to the Mon-yul Corridor, see Singh 1988: 116-117. Mills 1948: 1-2. For all the clan names, see Mills 1948: 1-3, cf. the clan chart in Sharma 1960: appendix. Note that the Miji clan recorded by Mills in Senthui settlement do not occur on Sharma’s chart. Rgyal rigs: 20b, 49a, cf. Aris 1986: 80 n. 45. Cf. the commentary on Sherdukpen “Jabthang Bura” and “Meme Gyapten” by Aris 1979: 80. See Aris 1979: 101-102, 310 nn. 16-17 on the Mon ruler named rGyal-po Ga-thung or Gwa-thung. This name might be worth considering since the Shar Mon kingdom in question was based around Domkha and Morshing, a mere ten kilometres as the crow flies from western Sherdukpen settlements. I do not count the Krime, Wangja and Musabee/Mesori clans who acquired Thong status here since they all originated from later Tawang Dakpa or Tibetan migrants; see Mills 1948: 2 comments on their relative importance in 1945, cf. also Sharma 1961: 48-52 and Appendix, von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 173-174, Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 15-17. Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 17, 128-130, 141 gloss Asu Dechao as “elder who is an expert speaker” and “expert speaker”, while asu is ambivalent and can refer to ‘grandfather’, or deeper levels of patrilineal forebears, and ‘ancestor’; see Sharma 1961: 53, Rinchin Dondrup 1988: 39, 40. Elwin 1958: 243. sBa is sometimes treated as a variant of the ancient Tibetan Plateau clan name dBa’; Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 27, 327. Lacking any evidence to link them, at present I provisionally treat homophonic Ba name variants in the Himalayas as identifying a different descent grouping.

167 See Bhagengla, Balam and Bakaphai on map 78 M/7. 168 Lo rgyus: 21b. 169 See Jadung and Dungmanma north of Bhagengla and adjacent to the Balam and Bakaphai settlements on map 78 M/7; cf. n. 167 above. 170 On sTong-btsan Yul-bzung (or Yul-zung) alias sTong-btsan Ba-gi (or sBa-gi) alias rBa-gi (or sBa-gi) A mi sTong-btsan Yul-bzung (or Yul-zung), see Rgyal rigs 2: 111-112, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 51b, 6-53a, 4. 171 Aris 1986: 78 nn. 2, 6, p. 83 n. 100. 172 See Sørensen 1994: 199-204 on mGar sTong-btsan Yul-bzung’s visit to Nepal. 173 See Bodt 2014b: 176-178 on the ’O-ma Chung-ma narrative. 174 For an example of such superficial findings, see Bodt 2014b: 178 n. 44, who also erroneously identified Bagipa as being a tshan in the Rgyal rigs whereas all redactions of that text actually classify them as a rus and a rgyud (see appx. H). 175 Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 156 report on Bagipa land holdings, and their research reveals the same high status for the clan (p. 19 table 2.1) as my own investigations. 176 See also the notes by Barua 1995a: 228 (his “Baqipam” = Bagipa), cf. Barua and Ahmad 1995: 233. 177 On the Lha’u gDung-mkhar origins, via marriage, of the historical gDung-dkar Jo-bo (stod and smad) rgyud, who are the ethnographic Dungkharpa tshan today in Dirang Busti, see Rgyal rigs 2: 113, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 56a, 4-56b, 5. On the Lha’u Kham-pa origins, via rgyal po bTso-ri’s line, of Jo-bo Ser-lde/sde mi rgyud or mi tshan of Dirang Busti and the ethnographic Sertipa tshan, see n. 99 of ch. 1. 178 Aris 1980: 14-15, 20 n. 23. 179 See the discussions in van Schaik 2013: 248, Dotson 2008: 67 and Walter 2009. 180 Nyang ral chos ’byung: 163. 181 Mor shing rgyal rigs: 50a, 5 reads snyog gdung sba rim pa; Rgyal rigs 2: 110 reads snyon gdung bha rim pa; Rgal rigs 3: 51 reads smyog gdung ba rim pa. 182 Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 14, 27, 78 n. 167; cf. BGT: 229, Uebach 1987: 28-29, 73 n. 269, Richardson 1998: 62, 64, 73. The Bshad mdzod describes the Khu as one of the bar khams rus rigs drug or ‘six clans of the central region’; Smith 2001: 219. 183 Their home was the area around Thang-po-che where the village of Khu-smad (Lower Khu) is still to be found today, see Hazod 2013. 184 Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 29 n. 28, 31 n. 42. 185 Mkhas pa lde’u: 230. 186 See, for example, texts 6, 10, 12 and 13 in Lawa 3 in References. 187 Mkhas pa lde’u: 230. 188 For example, Nyang ral chos ’byung: 163, 165-166; cf. Mkhas pa’i dga’ ston, 1: 161. 189 See the Ye-spang origin myth for the gTsang-mo clan descended from the three Mang brothers; Rgyal rigs 2: 111, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 50a-50b. 190 For Old Tibetan Chronicle references, see Dotson 2013: 262, 264, 282, 287, 361, 375, 381. 191 Stein 1951, Stein 1961: 18-19, 24-25, Stein 1966, cf. also Haarh 1969: 276-278. 192 Taenzer 2012: 69, 70, 90, 182, cf. Thomas 1951: 15, “Se-to ṅ , certainly in the Shan-shan (or Śa-cu) area”, cf. p.162.

Notes to pages 108–116

193 Thomas 1951: 300. 194 See Sperling 2011 and sources cited therein. 195 See ’Bri Se-ru Gong-ston (and variants including bSe); Sørensen 1994: 181 n. 517. 196 Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 85a, 3. 197 See the figure named Zangs-’gar Se’u-pa of Zangs-yul Zangs-stod in the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs in Dga’ thang: 40-41, 142-146 = ff. 12, l. 5-16, l. 1. 198 Deb sngon: 337. See also Roerich 1979: 276 on Se sPyil-bu-pa Chos-kyi rGyal-mtshan (b. 1121-ca. 1189/90). 199 Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 27, 58 n. 65. 200 See Se-khun of map Tibet 1981, Sikung Chu, Sire La and Se La of map L500 NH 46-14, Seti and Seti Chu of map 83 A and map 1301 NG 46, Sikung on map Bailey & Morshead 1913, and a pastoral area called mKhar Se-phu listed in mTsho-sna-khul in the Lcags stag zhib gzhung tax survey of 1830: 225. Further afield, sGam-po-pa (1079-1153) resided in the bKa’-gdams-pa monastery of Se-ba-lung in nearby gNyal, in what must have been the end of the eleventh- or beginning of the twelfth century, while there is an early monastery of the Bya lineage named Se-bo located in g.Ye; see Roerich 1979: 457, 1088. 201 See Bka’ chems: 78-81 on lists mentioning the Se bon po, and Mkhas pa’i dga’ ston, 1: 159, for a passage describing the descent of the first king to earth, when he is initially met by men of the six clans (rus drug) lHo, gNyags, Khyung, sNubs, Se, sBo and twelve knowledgeable bon specialists including the Se bon. Like other priestly identities, it may derive from rites and functions related to funerals; cf. Stein 2010: 267 on the terms like se mo gru bzhi and se sgo in old funeral rites. 202 Ramble 1997: 495-499. 203 See Mathieu 2003: 272 who transcribes the names as Se, Ye, Ma and He, also McKhann 1992: 62 who transcribes Seel, Ieq, Meiq and Heq, and Rock 1948: 10 n. 3 who transcribes Ssú, Yù, Mà’ and Hó. 204 Rock 1948: 127 n. 59. 205 Haarh 1969: 314-315, Stein 1985: 111-112. 206 For PT 1286: 66-67 see now Dotson 2013: 265, 363, and PT 1289: r1-2 et passim. 207 Stein 2010: 78-79 n. 101 citing Wen Yu 1950a. 208 Thomas 1948, cf. also Ikeda Takumi 2012. 209 Molè 1970: 100 n. 118. 210 Stein 2010: 95, cf. also Stein 1972: 30-31, 62, n. 1, Stein 1961: 38 n. 96. 211 Dotson 2006: 207, 300-302, Dotson 2009: 101. 212 Stein 1972: 30-31, 62, n. 1, Stein 1961: 38 n. 96. 213 The Nam-sa variant appears in Mkhas pa lde’u: 273, while Nam-pa appears in Lde’u jo sras: 113. 214 On these points, see Berounský 2017: 216 et passim, Karmay 2010: 59, cf. also Berounský 2016 on the Gnyan ’bum. 215 Berounský 2017: 221. 216 The Nyang ral chos ’byung: 160. 217 See the list of alternative methods (thabs gzhan ma) for performing rnel dri ’dul ba rites in Dga’ thang: 38, 139, f. 9, l. 9. 218 Gros 2012: 494. 219 Rgyal rigs: 15a, 16a, 18a, Aris 1979: Table 5 opp. p. 98. 220 I read kar as dkar ‘dairy products’, with rdzi ‘keeper’ or ‘herdsman’.

221 See Rgyal rigs: 53b, where he is a member of the party which ‘rediscovers’ ancient Buddhist Kushinagara in Assam; see Huber 2008: 129-130. In the Lo rgyus: 5b, we also find gNam-sa being used as an epithet during the same period. 222 See Dotson 2013: 403-404 for an edition and partial translation; noting the possible variant Klu-dur. 223 Dotson 2009: 94, 104-105, Taenzer 2012: 126, 142. 224 PT 1060: l. 82-84, PT 1289: r2-04, r3-07. 225 See n. 102 of ch. 1. 226 See, without emendations here, the passage in Mkhas pa lde’u: 237: De nas bra la sgo drug tu gshegs / de’i tshe bud kyi bram snar byis pa khre khre can lus la bya’i spus brgyan pa gsum dang phrad do / byis pa de gsum mon gyis ltas ngan du btang ba yin te / de gsum bzung ste khrid pas / mon skad ma go nas / rang gi mchid tshig las / gcig la lho na ga ber btags / gcig la snyags lcang ka ber btags / gcigs gyis myang gong du phyir bsdad nas yib ste / lo ro’i rong du bros te hor gyi ’gram mkhar du babs pa la myang gong ngan le btsog du btags pa ni myang gi mes po lags so / gnyis tshur la ’ongs pa ni lho dang snyags gnyis kyi mes po lags so /. Karmay 1994: 420 gave an English summary of the passage, albeit with omission of some names and details. 227 Bya spu sna tshogs kyi slag pa sku la gsol, in Dga’ thang: 13, 102, f. 18, l. 3. 228 Rgyal rigs 2: 111, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 50a, 5-51a, 5. 229 See lCang-bu[m] in rGyal rigs: 12a (cf. Aris 1986: 26-27, 78 n. 16), rTsang in Rgyal rigs 2: 97, and Tsang in Mor shing rgyal rigs: 20a, 2. On the lCang-ma-gdung village hosting a Srid-pa’i lha worship community, see ch. 10. 230 See Stein 2010: 80 n. 104 and the citation therein. In his 1961 work, Stein associated Mi-nyag with the lDong and sTong, albeit on the basis of later sources, and Dotson 2006: 82-83 has demonstrated the situation of these latter identities and possible clans was more complex in pre-eleventh century documents. 231 See STEDT database (accessed 17 January 2017) gloss ‘ancestor’ record Li 97 Tangut: 1549, and ‘clan’ record Li 97 Tangut: 1137. 232 See PT 1287: 223, 414, and the most recent edition and translation of the Sad-mar-kar song in Dotson 2013a: 62-63, n. 2. 233 For example, on Chinese Nan for Tibeto-Burman and possibly Qiangic [g]Nam names, see Thomas 1948: v-vi, Stein 2010: 78-79 n. 101. 234 Kapstein 2000. 235 Hazod 2014: 7, cf. also Ramble 2006. 236 The U-ra story pays fleeting lip service to ‘invitation’ (gdan drangs) – but not to rule – in its extended ‘renewal’ motif, but this is mere convention inserted by the Buddhist author since the child concerned has already been lured and abducted to U-ra (Rgyal rigs: 34b). The same motif combination of luring and then taking the child candidate against his will, which is then glossed as ‘invitation’, occurs in the Thempang origin myth I report in ch. 11. 237 It can be mentioned that a ‘royal origins’ motif appears inserted as an aside in the Ngang gDung narrative (Rgyal rigs: 35a). However, it is rather ‘historical’ and totally non-Buddhist in character, and indeed features a royal ancestor, Glang Dar-ma, usually branded as an anti-Buddhist figure in Tibetan narratives. 238 Petech 1990, Aris 1979: ch. 5, Aris 1986: 46-55, Ardussi 2004. In addition to these studies, I consulted Rgya bod yig tshang: 376-381 and

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Notes to pages 117–122

239 240 241 242 243

244 245 246 247 248

249

390

Rab brtan: 6-9 for details cited herein. Cf. also Vitali 2014: 566-569 who covered some of the same sources and many of the points given in Petech 1990 without any reference to that earlier work, while Karma Phuntsho 2013: 128-133 attempted to distance western protoBhutanese populations from the Dung who were regional raiders. Aris 1980: 10-11, Aris 1979: ch. 5. van Driem 1998: 29, 31-33. Tucci 1949: 702 n. 746. Ardussi 2004: 68. See Petech 1990: 104. The Rgya bod yig tshang: 377 states that, ‘Many Dung-reng who were known as the Shar Dung and lHo Dung plundered most of the communities throughout the south, up until Gos-sngon of ’O-yug and sDong-po-thang of Shang’ (shar dung / lho dung du grags pa’i dung reng mang pos / ’o yug gos sngon dang / shangs sdong po thang tshun / lhor rgyud phal che ba’i yul pa rnams bcom /). The lHo Dung are mentioned as being around sKya-grogs and Phag-ri Rin-chen-sgang in Rab brtan: 6, 8. A cultural memory of these Dung raids in more southern parts of their apparent range appears preserved in the biography of the eleventh century yogin Mi-la Ras-pa, when the author describes a setting which lies between Mi-la’s teacher Mar-pa’s home in central lHo-brag and the gNyal and Lo-ro districts further to the east, in other words, a setting coincident with the known Shar Dung homelands. Mar-pa bemoans, ‘the lHo-brag highlanders attacking (brdungs) my students who come from gNyal and Lo-ro’, and so urges his would-be disciple Mi-la to deploy his powers of black magic against the latter; gTsang-smyon He-ru-ka 1981: 60. The word I translate as ‘highlanders’ is la kha ba, literally ‘those [at/of] the hilltops/passes’, while the author’s choice of verb rdung ([b]rdung[s], bdung) ‘to strike’ or ‘to beat’, often meaningfully glossed in context by ‘attack’ or designating a violent agent as an ‘attacker’ (rdung mkhan), was perhaps even inspired by the old Dung identity. Ardussi 2004: 66. Rgya bod yig tshang: 379 has dpon, while Rab brtan: 8 has ’go. Petech 1990: 109, cf. Rgya bod yig tshang: 379-380. Aris 1979: ch. 5, fig. 4, Ardussi 2004, Bodt 2012: 326-327, Karma Phuntsho 2013: 120-133. See especially Huber 2011a on such exchanges at the three main areas along the eastern Himalayas including eastern Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor discussed herein. Further to the east, there is the upper Subansiri River basin (see also Huber 1997, Huber 1999, Huber 2010), and the Pemaköd region between the Siang or Dihang River and the Brahmaputra River bend region. The highland valley areas located in the upper Siyom River (see Huber 2012) and in Pachakshiri (i.e., Menchukha; see Grothmann 2012, Grothmann 2014, Grothmann 2017) have similar features due to easier, sub-alpine passes crossing the main range. Rgya bod yig tshang: 380. The term gya ba in the account is unknown to me, albeit that in context it appears to describe the four ridges or areas of land that would logically enclose three river valleys. My colleague Huadan Zhaxi pers. comm. 12 November 2017 who is a native speaker of the Amdo Rebkong dialect of Tibetan, consulted elderly scholars in his home district about the name of his natal village, spoken Langjia, and was told that jia (CT gya?) referred to

the raised area of ground located between the two local rivers which form the village’s lands. 250 See Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 10a, 6, when recounting past lives he describes the birth of the gter ston Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer in the following terms, lho brag gtam shul du mnga’ bdag rgyal po’i skye ba myang ral pa can zhe bya bar ’khrungs. 251 Petech 1990: 104. 252 See Rgya bod yig tshang: 376-377. 253 A number of colleagues have creatively suggested that the name Dung reflects the old clan name lDong occurring in Tibetan Plateau proto-clan mythology. However, there is not a bit of evidence in any source to support this neat solution, while the preponderance of Dung(s) toponyms and mythonyms in and around lHo-brag indicates a different identity of some antiquity. 254 Dotson 2009: 90, 110-111. 255 On Dungs (cf. Dung Lung-pa), see Hazod 2009: 202 Map 6b, 211 Map 6.2, and 214 Map 7.2. One problem with a Myang-stod location for the older name is that most likely it is an artefact of the mid-fourteenth century Sa-skya-pa resettlement of defeated Shar Dung remnants from lHo-brag into that same region; see Rgya bod yig tshang: 380. 256 See the entries Dung lung la (27°49’N, 91°51’E), Shing gu dung (27°54’N, 91°47’E), Gur dung (27°47’N, 91°44’E), Om dung la (27°50’N, 91°34’E), Dung rnga (28°26’N, 91°29’E), mDung (28°20’N, 91°31’E), and Dung spos dkar (28°28’N, 90°53’E) in the toponym gazetteer compiled by Guntram Hazod (http://www.oeaw.ac.at/ tibetantumulustradition/tar-toponym-search/, searched 8 December 2016 using keywords dung and lho kha). See also the Tung settlement located in lHo-brag on the western flanks of the ridge ascending to the Tap La on map 77 P, and the Shandung settlement located in the Tsuk Chu catchment between the Nyangshang Chu and lHo-brag Shar Chu valleys on map 77. Dung toponyms also extend far to the west, the area where the lHo Dung territory would have expanded. For example, Dung-sna is located just south of mDo-chen lake in the Gro-ma area directly adjacent to the north-western borders of modern Bhutan; see Hazod 2009: 202 Map 6b and 214 Map 7.2, cf. name of the same site written as Dud-sna in Dondrup Lhagyal et al. 2003: 52 map. Dung-sna literally means ‘Dung Border’; see Jäschke 1881: 316 sna 4, “end, edge, border”. 257 For the Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs, see Dga’ thang: 36, 136 f. 6, l. 4 and p. 39, 141, f. 11, l. 1-2. 258 Ardussi 2004: 64-65. 259 Aris 1979: 120, Aris 1986: 82 n. 95, and Ardussi 1977: 55 translating gdung chos rje as “ancestral religious lords”. 260 Haarh 1969: 208, 213, 256-258, Aris 1979: 120, Aris 1986: 82 n. 95. 261 See Mkhas pa lde’u: 228; cf. the Bshad mdzod: 148 = ff. 74b, 5-6, and the dung gi mi pho dkar po in the ‘bon’-identified ritual manual Mu ye pra phud: 18a, 1 (= Karmay and Nagano 2002: 43/72). Dung name elements are also preserved in early narratives of primordial origins heavily influenced by Buddhism, such as the lha chen names Dung-byams and ’Khor-ba Dung-skyong in the ’Od-gsal gyi lha narrative of the Bka’ chems: 62. 262 Aris 1979 already mooted this point in his earlier study.

Notes to pages 122–133

263 Rlangs: 4-5; cf. Seele 1995: 68-70 for a useful review of the text and studies of it. All this dung symbolism is then reused and extended (e.g., dung gi mdzo mo, dung mtsho, dung gi rlangs pa, etc.) later in the text for the origin myth of the first Rlangs ancestor; Rlangs: 12-17. 264 Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 151b, 2. 265 Rgyal rigs: 36a. Another cognate ‘celestial’ lake name as a site of clan origins is the gNam-sgo mTsho in the Ye-spang origin myth for the gTsang-mo clan descended from the three Mang brothers; Rgyal rigs 2: 111, Mor shing rgyal rigs: 50a, l. 6. 266 Aris 1986: 82 n. 95 also recorded such oral traditions. 267 The site is also mentioned in dNgos-grub rDor-rje et al. 2010: 40. 268 For examples in Classical Tibetan myths, see the Tibetan text and paraphrase of dBu nag mi’u ’dra chags (ff. 14a-15b) in Karmay 1998: 265-266, 275-276. Compare also wording in Rlangs: 5 dung za dngul mo, and Bka’ chems: 79 srid pa phywa’i lha dang ri ti ri’i bu mo sha ba dung mgo can ma, and see the references to Dung-bza’ Dul-mo in Haarh 1969: 254, 257, cf. also ’Bro’-za Dung-pyang-bzher who marries the legendary ruler KhrI sNya-zung-brtsan in PT 1286: 5859. Compare the dung gi bud med dkar mo who appear in an old ritual text for obtaining phya and g.yang life powers; see f. 23a of Mu ye pra phud phya’i mthar thug bzhugs so in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 46, 77. 269 See the Grags pa gling grags (Dolanji ms. 11b-12b; Oslo ms. 26b-28b; Nagchu ms. 21a-b; Lhasa Tenjur edition 32-33), where Co-mi is the so-called Dung-mi descended from the tadpole (lcong mo) which is dung. 270 Aris 1979: xvii-xviii, cf. van Driem with Karma Tshering 1998, 1: 29-32, and Karma Phuntsho 2013: 132-133. Aris claimed “gDung” is an autonym of the Lhokpu, although it appears rather to be an ethnonym allotted to them by politically powerful Dzongkha speakers who administered the Lhokpu during the past. 271 See Karsten 1980: 164 on the lineage during the twentieth century, and cf. Karmay 2014: 446 for a seventeenth century record of the E-pa bon po Lha-drung-can. 272 Bon dar bod yul dbu su dar / bon snub mon gyi yul du snub /; Bshad mdzod: 455, f. 228a. 273 For the variant Dung-rengs (> Dud-rengs), see Rab brtan: 7, and Rgya bod yig tshang: 377. 274 Huber 2011a and Huber 1999. 275 See Ardussi 2004: 70, “Those myth segments predating the 14th century would, of necessity, relate to their [i.e., the Dung’s] earlier existence in a Tibetan, possibly Bonpo cultural setting in the highlands of Yardrok and southern Gtsang.” 276 See n. 103 of ch. 1. 277 Rgyal rigs: 36a: bon thang la ‘od dkar gyi yig gter, mentioned later (45b) as bon lugs kyi yig gter gyi gtam rgyun. 278 Aris 1979: 121, 312 n. 6, Ardussi 2004: 61, 69. 279 Bodt 2012: 326-328. 280 Aris and Ardussi’s proposals fail to account for the following: the presence of five or six Himalayan East Bodish languages of considerable diversity over a far greater area than we find any Dung references present; lack of any historical reference to a non-Tibetic (e.g., Mon-skad) language spoken by Dung populations on the Tibetan Plateau across the historical Dung territories; the complete disappearance of any hypothetical Dung East Bodish language(s)

281 282 283

284 285 286 287 288 289

290

291 292

from the Tibetan Plateau when we know some portion of the Dung were resettled in areas such as Nyang-stod and its environs. Bodt’s proposals find no historical or ethnographic support in the available materials. Concerning the Chocha-ngacha speakers settled in the mid-Kuri Chu valley, unlike many East Bodish speakers within the Srid-pa’i lha cult they have no origin narratives stating they came from Tibet, nor any direct or indirect connections with Tibetan or Himalayan [g]Dung, and their settlement area is likewise bereft of [g]Dung-related toponyms and folklore. While some Chocha-ngacha speaking communities do worship in the Srid-pa’i lha cult, they are generally deviant compared with the majority, and their participation in the cult has other valid social explanations – see the end of this chapter and Reflections III. On the origins of the ’Brog-pa with the three historical clan names concerned, and the problem with the Khyung gdung rabs as a source, see n. 54 of ch. 1. Purported ’Brog-pa origins from mTsho-sna that are fleetingly inserted into the Rgyal rigs, and the geography of origins based around Lo-ro, gNyal and Byar in the Khyung gdung rabs place them well east of, and thus beyond historical Shar Dung territorial scope, while the ’Brog-pa highland settlement area itself has no [g]Dung-related toponyms. Moreover, there is no evidence the ’Brog-pa communities ever participated in the Srid-pa’i lha cult which itself has so many connections attesting Shar Dung and Himalayan [g]Dung presence. Based upon the number and nature of non-linguistic problems associated with Bodt’s proposals – and not counting any possible linguistic objections - it seems better to hypothetically assign other possible origins, such as separate migrations during different periods, to account for the existence of Chocha-ngacha and Brokpaké within their present-day ranges. See Michailovsky and Mazaudon 1994 for Bumthap, Hyslop 2017a and DeLancey 2008 for Kurtöp, and appendix K herein for Dzala. Tournadre and Rigzin 2015: 50. See Hyslop 2016, noting also that bitter buckwheat (Fagopyrum tataricum) grows at over 4000 metres in such southernmost Tibetan Plateau valley systems; Yi-Min Wei 1995: 7. See Huber 2012 and Huber 2011a on Na and Bokar. Petech 1990: 111, while before him Tucci 1949: 702 n. 746 had considered the Dung to be “tribes” from lHo-brag. See the Old Tibetan Annals in Dotson 2009: 101, 104-105, 296, 299. Scott 2009. Aris 1979: xvii-xviii. Sources of Lha zhu chants for fig. 29 include: the Trisa oral itinerary of bon po Kunley recorded at Nyimshong in Kheng Chikor on 10 March 2012; the Saleng oral itinerary of gurzhe Drakpa and bropön Sangye recorded at Lingmatang in Saleng Gewog on 27 March 2012; see ch. 7 fig. 8 and n. 71 on the Shawa itinerary from the manuscript Shawa 2: 1b-8b; see ch. 9 fig. 12 and n. 47 on the Tsango oral itinerary recorded from lhami Nyima Dorji. Rgya bod yig tshang: 380, cf. also sku mkhar ‘personal stronghold’, used for the mythological fortresses of the early Tibetan kings, and the old term so kha for ‘watch tower’; Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 13, 207. Aris 1979: 109-110, 311 nn. 27-28, cf. Bodt 2012: 549-558. For example, see mkhar gyi rtse lha in Mkhas pa lde’u: 231.

391

Notes to pages 135–142

293 Ardussi 2004: 64. 294 I concur with reservations stated by Karma Phuntsho 2015: 6-7 on the published 1267-1326 datings for Shes-rab Me-’bar, and agree that he could only have commenced the deeds recounted in the biography as an active, mature agent from the mid-fourteenth century. 295 Shes rab Me ’bar: 20b, l. 1-23a, l. 3. 296 Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 90a, 2 clearly reads dung rang phyogs la phyin pa. The Kun-bzang Brag Par-ma manuscript used by Aris 1979: 313 n. 6 apparently read dung rong, which he understood as ‘Ravine Country of the Dung’. Given the occurrence of Dung-rang and Dung ’Di-rang spellings in Shes rab Me ’bar: 20b, l. 1-23a, l. 3 and elsewhere in Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 153b, 5-6, this dung rong is probably a later hypercorrection; cf. the dung rong in the critical edition by Karma Phuntsho 2015: 187. 297 Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 153b, 5-6: de nas dung ’di rang zer ba’i sa na sdad dus / ’di rang rgyal pos zhabs rtogs shin tu bzab par byas shing / dar zab kha cig phul nas chos ’brel yang byas /. The name perhaps inspired Dereng as that given to the Assam Hill tracts north of the duars by the mid-17 th century Muslim historian Mahomed Cazim; see Michell 1973 [1883]: 30. 298 Cf. here the unique entry rdung ‘a small mound, hillock’ in Jäschke 1881: 285. 299 Cf. Bodt 2012: 368-369. 300 The following Ura Dung tale was reported to me by Dorji Gyaltsen in December 2014: The strongman ruler ‘Dung Nagpo’ lived in a stone fortress – now ruined – atop a hill in the centre of the valley. Dung Nagpo’s fortress was placed under prolonged siege by Tibetan invaders from the north, who thought that the Dung and his people must surely relent due to lack of drinking water. When all water had been exhausted within the besieged stronghold, Dung Nagpo’s clever wife collected all the available oil, stood upon the walls of the high stronghold in full view of the invaders, and poured the oil over her hair as if it were water and pretended to wash her hair as though water supplies were still plentiful within the stronghold’s walls. At this sight, the Tibetans gave up any hope of an easy capitulation, abandoned their siege and withdrew. 301 The ‘Dung Nagpo’ identity commonly featuring in Ura folktales appears semi-legendary. According to current oral history in Ura, the famous gDung of U-ra were gDung Lha-dbang Rab-rgyas and gDung Lha-dbang dPal-rgyas, who are locally credited with having introduced the festival called g.Yag-mchod from Tibet, which was the older form of communal Srid-pa’i lha worship in the area now defunct. U-ra gDung lineages mentioned in the Rgyal rigs include: i. lHa-mgon dPal-chen > lHa-bzang-rgyal > gDung Grags-pa dBang-phyug; ii. lHa-dbang Grags-pa > Grags-pa dBang-phyug with brothers lHa-dbang bKra-shis and Phun-tshogs Don-grub, while Grags-pa dBang-phyug’s son was Nyi-ma rNam-rgyal; iii. Ral-pa sTobs-chen > gDung lHa-dbang Grags-pa. 302 Aris 1979: 120-122. 303 See Bramadungchung, Gangkardung, Lhoudung, Lemberdung, Lugudung, Maidung and Shepeadung in the village directories for Tawang and Lhou Circles, in Directorate of Census Operations, Arunachal Pradesh 2011.

392

304 See Dungser, Loudung, Chellengdung and Pamdung in the village directories for Dudunghar Circle, Directorate of Census Operations, Arunachal Pradesh 2011, and Chengrādung, Nāshadung, Māndung and Tadung on map 78 M/10. 305 Mor shing rgyal rabs: 50a, l. 5, cf. Rgyal rigs 3: 51, smyog gdung. For snyogs BGT: 1013 has byis pa ‘child’, cf. 932 nyag nyog. 306 See interpretations by Das Gupta 1968: v and Bodt 2012: 304. 307 Rgyal rigs 2: 111, Mor shing rgyal rabs: 50b, l. 4. 308 Kennedy 1913-1914: 61 recorded the name from Tshangla speaking informants as “Dongpu ri Chu”. 309 Lawa 1, text 2: 21b, 2-5: khab lha’i tshigs lags so / bon po gsas po’i blo nas ston pa’o / rdzogs so / bkra shis par gyur cig / mes po ’dung dang cig / de’i bu khar po dang gnyis / de’i bu sra bo dang gsum / de’i bu sa gab dang bzhi / de’i bu kun po dang lnga / de’i bu lug po dang drug / de’i bu dug bu la bdun / de’i bu rmo lam sengge brgyad / de’i bu ge sar dang dgu’o / de dgu ni bon po rgyun ma chad pa’o //. 310 On the recent lha mi genealogy at Lawa, see the note to the entry Lawa 4 in References. 311 For example, gTso-ri, Lo-pa, Ser-ldi/lde, sByi-mig, Shis-gu, Ru-ser, and so on. 312 Shu (CT zhu ‘request’ as in lha zhu?) was reported staged during the fifth Bhutanese lunar month, on either the eighth, fifteenth or thirtieth days. Shu is also staged at nearby Tali. The Buli rite had all but ceased during the period of my field research due to absence of a bon po; see appendix A for details. 313 Cf. Pommaret 2004: 61-62, whose study curiously makes no mention of the Srid-pa’i lha cult at Buli, nor of its dedicated specialists, their manuscripts and rites, and the cult’s genealogical significance for the dPon-po line. 314 Ba sha za ba appears to be a vernacular equivalent of the common CT the tshom za ba, ‘to have doubt’, ‘(be) sceptical’. 315 Buli 2, Lha rabs, f. 12a, 3-4: nya’ khri btsan po’i gdung rgyud yin na // da ta’i dung rnams yin no // gdung rgyud de nas ma nyams te // ba sha za ba ma legso // de yan chad lha ’o de gung rgyal gyi gdung rgyud yino //. 316 My translation of the Khengkha influenced oral text transcribed in Lham Dorji 2004: 33, with older Classical Tibetan spellings of some known proper names inserted: Sangs sangs / lha gong rgyal la bo / yab ston pa shen rabs / go leng gdung na rup dko’d na co / shar tong pa na kha ri pa bko’d na co / gna’ khar gdung na rup bko’d na co / stag ma gdung na mi sim bko’d na co / jo ka la kho che na ga sdang bko’d na co / ta li bu li dpon po na shu’d bko’d na co / skyid khar dag pa’i dpon po na rup bko’d na co /. 317 See Ardussi 2004: 61, Ardussi 1977: 67, 88 n. 47, and Aris 1979: 117 on this lineage. 318 Lham Dorji 2004: 26, cf. also comments by Aris 1988a: 19 on magpa marriages by gdung ’dzin. 319 Sources for figure 30 include, for Classical Tibetan: BGT: 1697, Jäschke 1881: 339, Gzi brjid, 2: 102. Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel: Karmay and Nagano 2002: 1; Srid-pa’i lha cult sources in local oral and written rabs texts; for Tibetan dialects: native speakers in situ; for Dzongkha: native speakers in Paro, Ha and Thimphu and rDzong-kha Gong-’phel dbang-’dzin 2005: 609; for Kurtöp: Gwendolyn Hyslop pers. comm. July 2015, and native speakers in situ; for Dzala and Khomakha dialect: native speakers in situ; for Chocha-ngacha:

Notes to pages 142–153

native speakers in situ on the west bank of the Kuri Chu between Tangmachu and Saleng; for Bumthap: native speakers in situ; for Khengkha: native speakers in situ and Dorji Penjore pers. comm. December 2014; for Brokpaké: native speakers in situ and Rinchin Dondrup 1993: 51; for Dakpa dialects: native speakers in situ, and Tim Bodt pers. comm. September 2015; for Tshangla dialects: native speakers in Dirang, Das Gupta 1968: 87, native speakers in Gamri Chu and upper Drangmé Chu, and Tim Bodt pers. comm. September 2015 for east Bhutan dialects; for Sherdukpen: Rinchin Dondrup 1988: 59; for Sartang: native speakers in situ at Rahung and southern Dirang district, Blench 2011, and Tim Bodt pers. comm. September 2015; for Bugun/Khowa: Rinchin Dondrup 1990: 71; for Tani languages and dialects: native speakers in situ, Galo Language Development Committee 2009: 114, Das Gupta 1983: 23, Hamilton 1900: 95, Lorrain 1907: 252, Rondo 2004: 99, and thanks to Kaling Tamut for Minyong tapon. The alternative Brokpaké usage is reported from a Bhutanese Brokpaké speaker; Gwendolyn Hyslop pers. comm. February 2013. The alternative Dakpa and Bumthap usage ung/ang (perhaps wang in CT pha wang?) may be an older regional word for ‘bat’ that is more or less extinct now; cf. also Rong/ Lepcha bryan (Mainwaring 1898: 272, 464) and Sartang ampòó (Blench 2011). The form ung was reported to me unelicited as a local word for ‘bat’ by several Dakpa speakers in the Tawang region, where it also occurs in written Dakpa in local Srid-pa’i lha cult manuscripts. For example, see Lhau 1: 9-10 on the ung bya dkar mo, the ‘white bat’. The word ang also appears to mean ‘bat’ in the names Ang-gi rogs-po Cha-ga-ra and Ang-gi mes-po Cha-ga-ra (literally ‘Grasshopper, Friend of the Bat’ and ‘Grasshopper, Ancestor of the Bat’, respectively), which both occur in a parallel sGam-chen Pha-wang narratives in the Srid-pa’i lha manuscript from U-ra, see Ura 6b, 2-7b, 1. Note that in the latter connection, the common words for ‘bat’ (tapen) and ‘grasshopper’ (takom) in Tani languages and dialects have the same classificatory basis since the ta- prefix occurs as a diminutive marker in forming names for smaller wild creatures, including a range of birds, insects (especially flying species), squirrels, flying squirrels, bats, but also frogs, snakes, snails and so on; see relevant entries under ta- in Galo Language Development Committee 2009: 136-148, Lorrain 1907: 252, Das Gupta 1983: 23, Kepor Mara 2012: 136, Needham 1886: 116. For reported alternatives pinch, pinchi, ichi-pinchi, pech and korponchung from Tani areas, cf. the Khengkha pinchung kae gami ‘fire [gami] fly’. For the alternative Tshangla forms, Tim Bodt pers. comm. September 2015 informed me the distinction is between ‘cattle’ (nor) and ‘ghost’ (don) bats. I thank Gwendolyn Hyslop for kindly assisting me with IPA transcriptions. 320 The exception to this on figure 30 is Brokpaké, representing a borrowing via close contacts with Dakpa speakers in the Tawang region, while the Brokpa maintain their own parallel expression. 321 See the Sherdukpen bat narrative on the origins of fire collected at Rupa in the mid-1950s by Verrier Elwin 1958: 231-232. 322 See, for example, Aris 1979: 79-80. 323 In addition to my own fieldwork data and written documents within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, sources for [g]Dung presence on map 11 include: Aris 1979: ch. 5, Aris 1986: 46-55, 100-103, Aris 1988a: 19-20,

Ardussi 2004, Dorji Penjore 2009: 48-50, 86, Lham Dorji 2006, Lham Dorji 2004: 26, van Driem 2004: 321, and Pommaret 2004: 61-62. 324 For the three sites lacking any hereditary profile along the east bank of the lower Jamkhar Chu valley, I was unable to obtain conclusive data. The Changmadung cluster forming a gDung outlier in the lower Kholong Chu are recent migrants from gDung identifying groups in Kheng. Moreover, those communities who do not speak East Bodish languages – mainly contemporary Tshangla speakers – can be shown to have ancestors or affines who did speak an East Bodish language and who transferred the Srid-pa’i lha cult to them. 325 Aris 1988a: 19.

17. A nc i e n t Roo ts to t h e E a st

1 2 3 4

Oppitz 1998: 341. Samuel 2013. McKhann 1998: 28 n. 43, cf. McKhann 1992: 17-34. On the Qiang, in addition to my own field observations between 1996-1999 in Mao Ergai, Heishui and Danba, I have resorted to: Graham 1934, Graham 1942, Graham 1945, Graham 1945a, Graham 1958, Hu Chien-min 1941, Stein 1957, Oppitz 2004, Oppitz 2013 I & II, Torrance 1920, Torrence 1930, Torrance 1932, Torrance 1933-1934, Torrance 1937, Xiuyun Zhao 2008, and Zevik 2001. On the Naxi, whom I have never visited, I have used: Chuan-kang Shih 1998, He Limin and He Shicheng 1998, Jackson 1979, Mathieu and Ho 2011, McKhann 1989, McKhann 1992, McKhann 2012, Oppitz 2013, Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997, Rock 1924, Rock 1935, Rock 1936, Rock 1937, Rock 1948, Rock 1952, Rock 1955, Rock 1963, Rock 1963a, Rock 1972, Rock and Oppitz 1998, Yang Fuquan 1995 and Yang Fuquan 1998. Additionally, Michael Oppitz kindly discussed his own fieldwork data on Qiang and Naxi with me on multiple occasions in Berlin. 5 The most recent review of Qiangic and Naic is laid out by Jacques and Michaud 2011, see also Michaud, He Limin and Zhong Yaoping 2017, Chirkova 2012 on the status of Qiangic as a genetic grouping, and Sims 2016 on dialects of Qiang. 6 van Driem 2007a: 77, and Lhama Wangchu 2002: 31 with leh. 7 Michaud 2011: 97-98, noting that his “Naxi” here refers to the western dialect; cf. also Jacques and Michaud 2011. 8 See STEDT database (accessed 16 March 2017) etymon #1016 PTB *s/g-la MOON, records for Qiang (Mianchi and Longxi) by Evan 99 Qiang 4, for Muya by Huang and Dai 92 TBL 0004.15, for Tangut by Li 97 Tangut 2814, 1369. 9 Evans 2001: 296, 389 for Qiang, and for Naxi Rock 1963: xl, cf. p. 492 for the pictograph (yù’). 10 See STEDT database (accessed 16 March 2017) etymon #6037 PTB *nyu GOAT, records for Qiang by Sun H 91 ZMYY 116.8 and 118.8, Huang and Dai 92 TBL 0275.08, for Lyuzu Huang and Dai 92 TBL 0506.18, for Bai by Sun H 91 ZMYY 116.37, Huang and Dai 92 TBL 0274.48. Of further potential interest is yî for the wild goat ‘serow’ in the Naxi pictographic language; Rock 1963: 478.

393

Notes to pages 154–160

11 12

Huber 2015c. On the hybrid Dirang Tshangla and CT construction of such terms, see ch. 11 and n. 1 thereof. A record not cited in my 2016 publication on this word is Chis-söbo noted by von Fürer-Haimendorf 1982: 170 for the Sangti village Srid-pa’i lha festival of 1980. The short and flawed non-ethnographic reporting of Chisöshe at Dirang Busti by Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 98-100 ignores both spoken Tshangla and local written documents to misrepresent the festival name as chisesoese which they render as CT ’chi srid gso srid (p.98), a phrase never found in local ritual literature. 13 A phu is often paired with a so-called ‘lowland’ da (CT mda’) deity locally described as being ‘bodyguards’ and having warrior’s weapons (note that CT mda’ also means ‘arrow’). I have not come across this da/mda’ deity classification outside the Mon-yul Corridor. It may be a curious coincidence, but the Naxi term d’à refers to a ‘courageous warrior’, see Rock 1955: 6, cf. Rock 1963: 51, and this can be considered in relation to the material on Qiang and Naxi to follow. 14 The sole candidate would have been Old Tibetan gsas (today pronounced say). See the single occurrence in the divination text IOL Tib J 738: 3v44–45: khyim gi lha bzang po ‘am pha myes gsas bzang po, ‘a good/positive lha of the house, or a good/positive gsas [of] the paternal ancestors’. However, this is not supported by gsas occurrences elsewhere in the Old Tibetan corpus, which indicate auxiliary beings for ritual specialists as well as such specialists themselves (often appearing as primordial figures in myths), and there gsas is often qualified by drag ‘strong’, ‘intense’. 15 See Graham 1958: 45, although I have omitted his system of assigning tones using superscript numbers. 16 Graham 1958: 45–52, 69–70, Hu Chien-min 1941: 5–14. 17 On the so-called Chiu Tzu Ying dialect, see Wen Yu 1950: 25 ts’e ‘god’, spirit, cf. 36 yo p’xi ts’e ‘white stone god’, cf. also Hu Chien-min 1941: 5. 18 LaPolla 2003: 170, LaPolla and Chenglong Huang 2003: 32, Evans 2001: 125, 154, 258, 356 (cf. also 154, 301–302 on entries for ‘soul’). 19 See the Lha’i gtam narrative from Tsango translated in ch. 9. 20 See photographs and captions in Graham 1958: plates 14-15 and Oppitz 2013, II: 1132-1133 Abb. 903-904. 21 Graham 1958: 7, 100. One can note that Chinese 古 gŭ means ‘ancient’, although now there is no way of knowing if this element in the Qiang name reported by Graham represents a borrowing albeit that dialects of northern and southern Qiang do have their own different words meaning ‘ancient’; see Evans 2001: 57, 209, 221, 325. 22 Rock 1948: 9 n. 2, Rock 1952, II: 581 citing data collected by T. Torrance at Li-fan hsien (i.e., in the Zagunao catchment area). 23 Hu Chien-min 1941: 10, recorded at Tseng-t’ou-shang-chai (i.e., Zengtouzhai) as the ‘god of iron mountain’, although this description does not reflect a literal Qiang meaning. 24 Evans 2001: 325, who notes two alternative words for ‘ancestor’ (one a direct borrowing from Chinese) having no relationship to tɕí qù sè. 25 See Dotson 2013: 64-65, n. 50, 336 n. 32 for gzhe with this meaning in the Old Tibetan Chronicle and other texts. In context it appears to mean a ‘past time’ of some unit (e.g., a year), as in later Classical Tibetan gzhes.

394

26

27

28

29 30 31

32 33 34 35 36

37 38 39 40 41

42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

Stein 1959: 128, 174 n. 75 noted that Gu-se or ’Gu-zi sKya-rengs and ’Gu-zi Shong-dkar are all names for deified weapons occurring in the Gesar epic. When first discussing the Gu-se name in the Rgyal rigs, Aris 1979: 127 pointed out that Rolf Stein identified the toponym Gu-se or Gling Gu-se (also written ’Gu-zi, mGu-zi) in the far east of the Tibetan Plateau, in association with the Gesar epic and the Rlangs clan. Maps show this toponym at Gling or Gling-tshang, upstream and northwest of the Minyak region; Ryavec 2015: 151 map 40. For the Na term, see STEDT database (accessed 16 January 2017) gloss ‘ancestor’ record Michaud 06 Na Laze. For the Naxi dtô-mbà pictograph, see Rock 1963: 411. For the Moso term, see Mathieu 1998: 225. Rock 1955: 151 n. 10, and Rock 1952, II: 581 who made the equation between the Qiang and Naxi ancestor figures. For pictographs of Gkâw-là-ts’ú’, see Rock 1963: 124. Rock 1948: 75, Rock 1963: 191. The name appears to mean ‘lake (khu’) enwrapped’ (zá’) according to the elements of the Naxi pictogram. Rgyal rigs: 36a-40a. Graham 1945: 61 n. 1, cf. also pp. 67-68 and Graham 1958: 22-23, 72 n. 38, 83, and cf. a recent recording of a variant narrative by LaPolla and Chenglong Huang 2003: 252-255. Graham 1958: 48–49, cf. 46 fig. 3, plate 15 caption. Evans 2001: 403. Graham 1958: 50. For examples, see Rock 1963: 182, 267, 400, Rock 1972, II: 45, 285. See Zhang 2013: 203 on the feminine marked zua-ma hearthstone (zua remains unexplained, the other two hearth stones are ‘male’ and ‘king’ marked). Zhang interprets this as related to gendered spatial divisions opposite each stone. Be that as it may, it is far more likely to reflect the identities of ancestral deities, as it does for most neighbouring and linguistically related populations. Cf. the identities of the three hearthstones amongst Mewahang Rai, one is female, another male and a third is a ‘guard’; Gaenszle 2007: 227-228. See respective entries in Evans 2001: 45, 47 n. 1, 65, 84, 133, 253, 299, 351, 374, 403, LaPolla and Chenglong Huang 2003: 132, 332, 333, 348. See n. 35 above. Graham 1958: 47, 69-70. Graham 1958: 49. See Hu Chien-min 1941: 9, while he also recorded the deity Yu-mo-tze among the set of twelve deities at Wen-ch’uan, albeit as the “God of the Granary”. Graham 1958: 47, cf. also Ro-bo-shi “the earth deity”. Graham 1958: 48 fig. 4 and caption, 60. Hu Chien-min 1941: 7. Rock and Oppitz 1998: 179-180. Reported in Torrance 1920: 34. Hu Chien-min 1941: 10, cf. 12. Hu Chien-min 1941: 15. Graham 1958: 48. Yang Fuquan 1998: 193. See especially McKhann 1992, and Rock 1948: 78 n. 200, Rock 1952, I: 91-92 n. 43, Rock and Oppitz 1998: 174. Yang Fuquan 1998: 207-208.

Notes to pages 160–166

53

McKhann 1992: 147 n. 141, with his transcriptions neeq and oq here standardised as nnù’ and ô in line with more recent sources; cf. McKhann 1998: 43 n. 28 on “Rites to Obtain Nnù’ and Ò (Nnù’ khyû ò khyû bâ)”. 54 See all entries in Rock 1963: 174, 365-367, usefully read together with Michailovsky and Michaud 2006 and Michaud, He Limin and Zhong Yaoping 2017. 55 Rock 1955: 29. 56 Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 35, Rock 1972, II: 17-18. 57 On O-yü and its O or Ö tribe who are represented as one of the main tribes ideally figured as a neighbour of the Naxi, see Rock 1955: 13-14 n. 50, Rock 1955a: 3, Rock 1972: 566, Jackson 1979: 165-166, 282, 292. On a village named O-yü which seems to have been one of the northernmost, premodern Naxi settlements with an old history, see Rock 1947, II: 403-404, and Rock 1948: 70 n. 179 who states “Tradition relates that O-yü is the cradle of the Mo-so [people].” 58 See Rock 1955: 149, 150 n. 1, 151 nn. 6-7 (my additions and emendations are in [ ]): “Whence the horse originated no one saw. At Ò’-yú’ Hâ’-gyì-gkv was born Dtò-t’khyú-ghû’gh the father of the horse and at Ò’-yú’ Hâ’-gyì-mân [was born] Khyù-gú-ghû’gh the mother of the horse; both are birds, the first has the appearance of the Garuda and the second that of the Garuda’s wife. [...] Three [length] measures of l`v and three of ch’oú of the Garuda caused the father of the horse to appear, and seven tail length’s of the Khyù-gú caused the mother of the horse to appear. These two had intercourse and the Khyù-gú laid many pairs of eggs which all possible creatures, terrestrial and celestial, as well as the elements tried to hatch but in vain. When the water also failed, there came white wind from the left and black wind from the right which caused the waves of the lake [to] dash the eggs towards the cliff where they broke. From them came forth the various horses, a white horse, a yellow horse, one with a blue mane, a pinto horse, a black horse, horses with white front legs and with black front legs.” 59 See entries in Rgyal rong: 546-549. 60 McKhann 1992: 52-53, and n. 35 “The particular basket that each household puts aside for this use is referred to as the “machual dvq”, machual being the term used for grain given in sacrifice”, cf. Rock 1963: 248. 61 Rinchin Dondrup 1988: 34 (#27), 69. 62 See STEDT database (accessed 14 January 2017) etymon #2235 PTB *(g/k)aw CALL, records for Muya by Sun H 91 ZMYY 547.15, Pumi (Qinghua) by Sun H 91 ZMYY 547.11, and Pumi (Taoba) by Sun H 91 ZMYY 547.10, and other STEDT records reveal further cognates occur in a range of eastern Tibeto-Burman languages. However, a few are found in ritual speech in Gurung/Tamu and in older Tibetan ritual texts for mundane rites. These are also of interest in the present discussion, once again due to cognate rites involving shamans or other types of ‘shamanic’ ritual specialists. Simon Strickland reported the imperative verb form khó ‘come!’ in both Gurung/Tamu colloquial speech and chanted pe da lu da narratives used by shamans; Strickland 1982: 314. When calling two ‘soul birds’ to descend from the sky, Gurung/Tamu ritual performers cry khoe meaning ‘Come!’; Pignède 1993 [1966]: 353-354, 386-388, 404. Chanted yõ khówa means “telling prosperity to come [kho]”; Strickland 1983: 230.

63 64 65

66

67 68 69

70 71 72

73

In written Classical Tibetan ritual texts for calling the productive force g.yang, a parallel but apparently non-semantic invocation occurs in the form khu ye. In the lexicons, its standard definition is simply that it is a word (tshig) for ‘calling’ (’bod pa) g.yang, or a sound (sgra) for ‘attracting’ (khug) phywa g.yang; BGT: 231. As in the instances found in the Srid-pa’i lha cult concerning East Bodish languages, khu ye cannot be explained by any known Tibetan verbs meaning ‘come’. Rock 1963: 127, 200, 202. Rock 1948: 30, Rock and Oppitz 1998: 187. In what appears to be a variation of this tradition in the Sangti Chu valley of Dirang, yumin spirit mediums who act as healers often have a wrought iron rod some twenty-five centimetres long, with one end shaped like a wild animal’s claw. They apply this to effected areas of a patient’s body. Torrance 1933-1934: 42, Torrance 1937: 82, Hu Chien-min 1941: 16, Graham 1942: 92, Zevik 2001: 69, Oppitz 2004: 42-43. An identical phenomenon of healing by shamans was reported for premodern Siberia; see esp. Anisimov 1963 [1952]: 103, and Davydov 2011: 131 citing earlier records by Neupokoev. Torrance 1933-1934: 42. Huber 2015b: 233-234. A similar rite is reported for the Gurung/Tamu to treat sterility in women believed cause by a spirit lodged in the patient’s body, and which Pignède 1993 [1966]: 355-356 described as, “The very fine powder of fried rice, thrown in the direction of the flames which are consuming the bamboo, burns like a firework in a thousand small sparks. The aim is to ‘frighten the spirit and to chase it out of the house’.” Rock 1952, I: 30, Rock 1959: 800-801, cf. pp. 805-806 on a similar rite by the Moso nda-pa (i.e., ddaba). Graham 1958: 92. McKhann 1998: 31. For accounts and images of Muân bpò’ see Rock 1924: 491-492 plates and captions, Rock 1948, Rock 1972: 343-346, Jackson 1979: 108-112, 141, McKhann 1992, Rock and Oppitz 1998, Mathieu 2003: 289-296 and Rahmann 1948, while Yang Fuquan 1995 provides excellent background on Naxi life concepts and rites in general. Note the caution by Rock 1963: xxviii-xxix on misidentifications of Muân bpò’ among other groups – notably the Moso – by earlier writers. According to Wellens 2010: 197, 199-200, premodern Premi (i.e., Pumi) celebrated a clan-based festival of “Offerings to Heaven” presided over by certain autonomous, shaman-like ritual specialists termed hangui. They chanted from written ritual texts and maintained long ancestral genealogies, and thus resemble the specialists of Srid-pa’i lha worship. One branch of the hangui claiming descent from a primordial brother ancestor named Geimu were specialised in positive rites: “Hangui of this branch did not drive away evil spirits but were called upon mainly to perform ceremonies to worship the deities and to conduct rites of passage” (pp. 199-200), with the most complex and major premodern rites presided over by these hangui being the festival of Offerings to Heaven. Few records survive of these events, but Chinese ethnographers report, “In these large clanbased ceremonies, people made offerings to the spirits of heaven, including the sun, moon, stars, wind, rain, thunder, lightning, hail,

395

Notes to pages 166–174

74 75

76 77

78

79 80

81 82

83 84 85 86 87 88

89 90

396

frost and fog. This involved sacrifice of large numbers of animals, and several families within a clan therefore pooled resources to provide some of the larger animals such as oxen, pigs, or sheep” (p. 197). Harrell 2001: 208-215, Mathieu 2003: 387-390. No native Qiang term for this ceremony is clearly stated in the literature, although Rock 1955: 2 implies it must have been Muanpoh cognate with Naxi Muân bpò’. For documentation, see particularly Torrance 1923: 153-159, Torrance 1930: 101, Torrance 1933-1934: 43-47, Graham 1942: 90-91, 94-95, Graham 1945, Graham 1958: 54, 59-64, 67-72, plate 15 (bottom image), Rahmann 1948, cf. Rock and Oppitz 1998: 174. See Graham 1958: 56 cf. 102 and Torrance 1930: 101. Mathieu 2003 demonstrated Naxi origins as far more complex, yet significant cultural traces in myths and rites linking modern Naxi and Qiang are certainly evident. For example, Rock 1948/52: 7-10, Rock and Oppitz 1998: 174, Rock 1963: xxviii-xxix, McKhann 1992: 34, cf. McKhann 1998: 28-30, and also Mathieu 1998: 225 discussing the Qiang origins of the major Moso cult deities. Rock 1955: 2. McKhann 1992: 86 n. 56, and cf. McKhann 1998: 31, “The sacrifice was performed by the >men of the boneHeaven< which, in the context, represented wife-giving >bones< to whom the performing group was related.” Rock 1948: 91 n. 226, Jackson 1979: 159. Sources for figure 32: for Muân bpò’ I consulted Rock 1948/52, Rock 1972: 343-346, Jackson 1979: 108-112, 141, McKhann 1992 and Rock and Oppitz 1998; the Srid-pa’i lha festival data is for the Thempang Lhasöshe documented in ch. 11, with reference on certain points to my fieldwork data from festivals at other sites in Dirang district, and sites in north-east Bhutan. Rock 1948: 6, 83, 100-102, Rock 1963: 281, 284, Rock 1972, II: 344. Torrance 1923: 153-154. Rock 1948: 8, 100. Rock 1948: 83 n. 209. On ritual treatment and freeing of the sacrificial sheep in a Qiang “fecundity rite”, see Hu Chien-min 1941: 25-26, 30. On the Naxi ‘white sheep of the gods’ whose wool is used to prepare the thread of the Ssú Life God in Ssú dsú marriage rites, see Rock 1972, II: 436, 437, Yang Fuquan 1998: 190. Rock and Oppitz 1998: 182. For examples, see Pandey 1996: 87-88 on the masked figures during the night of the sixth day of the Bugun Tchat Sowai festivals, Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: 97-98 on the battle between ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’, and the role of the ‘warriors’ during Sherdukpen Khiksaba. At the end of the Rahung Chiksaybu that I observed on 28-29 January 2011, a series of rites involving Böchung a Tibetan spirit, Jagar an Assamese spirit and Tangkar Gyepo a Boro spirit were performed to pre-emptively defend against threats from the neighbouring regions, with Tangkar Gyepo said to have specifically defended against the Miji population to the east during times past. Cf. also the comments on “Hosina” and Assamese populations at Thempang by Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 100-105 fig. 4.46.

91 See Shan pa dmar po in References. I am grateful to the late lama Gompa Au of Thempang for allowing me to copy and study the text, and for explaining the ritual’s history and practice. He reported that during the past a sheep was sacrificed for the rite, but this was abandoned at some unknown time due to Buddhist moral concerns. Cf. also the Gsang chen dgu dgra’i ri mo chart in Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 104 fig. 4.47, although these authors are mistaken in connecting the images of the iconography with real human body parts; they merely represent the symbolism and material culture found everywhere in Tibetan Buddhist expulsion rites or those addressed to wrathful beings; on use of human-like li ṅga see Stein 1957a, Karmay 1988, Nebesky-Wojkowitz 1956: 360. Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015 are also in error in labelling Hoshina a “Bon festival” (p.100, captions of figs. 4.454.46), for it is actually a sophisticated Buddhist rite with certain local embellishments. 92 Claims of “human sacrifice” during “Hoyshina” by Bodt 2014b: 181-182 and “Hosina” by Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 100-105 are superficially researched and unsupported by any evidence. The first two features of Hoyshina that Bodt calls “unique” (p.181) are certainly not, while his linguistic argument could equally (or even better) apply to the western Kho-Bwa speaking Sherdukpen since they were documented historical enemies of Thempang. Bodt’s claim that the third unique feature was former use of human sacrifice (cf. Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 100-105) is based purely on local male ‘bravado gossip’ related to ethnic competition among certain groups in the district. The idea that human sacrifice was involved is highly likely based upon a local misunderstanding of ritual procedures, both from hearing the Shan pa dmar po liturgy chanted during Hoyshina, as well as uninformed interpretations of the material culture of its ritual props, which then generated a gossip motif. Part of the Shan pa dmar po chant for the rite contains the wording ‘[He] carries the corpse of a human enemy upon his back’ (fol. 1b, 5: rgyab du dgra bo mi ro khur ba /), and the following text describes violent acts done to ‘the enemy’ (dgra bo), while the physical li ṅga ritual cake has a human form. The Lishpa in the story are regarded as social outcasts by Tshangla speaking Tibetan Buddhist villages such as Thempang, and represent the most likely targets for such gossip within Dirang district. Citing human sacrifice in works concerned with north-east India without any critical commentary is itself dubious. Reports of the practice are extremely rare across the whole region, and the few known instances were virtually never accompanied by evidence beyond hearsay. The topic of human sacrifice – along with slavery, cannibalism and ritual suicide – was always chief among those used by British colonial and later Indian administrators and ethnologists to justify both their political claims and cultural prejudices; see discussion of the Manmao case in Assam Secretariat 1934, cf. Elwin 1959: 125. Hypothetically, if Bodt’s and Kazuharu Mizuno and Lobsang Tenpa’s report of the annual sacrificial death of one male youth from the small Lishpa community were ever true, the practice would have removed many able-bodied males of reproductive age from the Lishpa population within a few generations. The profound effects on that community’s demographic and economic viability would have been easily apparent, as well as

Notes to pages –175 184

strongly attracting the attention of premodern, indigenous Buddhist authorities and the many external administrators stationed in the district since the early twentieth century. There is no evidence for any of this. 93 McKhann 1992: 352. 94 Rock and Oppitz 1998: 182. 95 For all known details of Zô-khì k’ô bpô’-lù’ bpò’, see Rock 1948: 84 n. 212, cf. Rock 1963: 346; Rock 1972, II: 443, cf. also the entry on the messenger bat specifically named Dzî-boà-dzî-lv^ in Rock 1963: 101. 96 See CDTD (nouns) entry 4695. 97 For the pictograph and definitions, see Rock 1948: 138, Rock 1963: 298, 475. 98 For example, Rock 1955: 157, 200, cf. also Rock 1952, I: 353, 356-7. 99 Rock 1963: 475. 100 Rock 1963: 505. 101 Rock 1963: 298. 102 Rock 1948: 6, Rock 1963: xxxii. 103 Rock 1937: 46; Rock 1952, I: 140, n. 130, 245, n. 461, Rock 1952, II: 494-495 n. 785, 628, 747, Graham 1958: 63. Cf. similar Moso rites in Mathieu 1998: 231. 104 Zadüd involves harvesting hairs from a live yak, placing them underneath or next to the statue of gter bdag Zur-ra Ra-skyes (also Zo-ra Ra–skyes, Sur-rwa Ra-skyes) in the temple at Seng-ge rDzong, and later burning them to produce smoke around a patient in order to cure spirit-caused ailments. The practice is performed by experienced laywomen, and small quantities of zadüd hair are kept in homes along the Khoma valley for the purpose. Ritually, the practice appears related to CT gsur or ‘searing’ which in the research region involves burning small quantities of barley flour, tea, butter and aromatic plants. To my knowledge, gsur does not normally include the burning of animal body parts and matter since such fumes would be considered highly offensive to various deities in the local cosmos, but particularly to mountain and natal deities in highland areas. 105 See, for example, the dmar thab shor ba’i rkyen incident said to have occurred in the year 1114 as mentioned in the fifteenth century redaction of Mi-la Ras-pa’s life story; Tibetan text edition in Huber 2006: 13-14 (= 15a-b). 106 See n. 48 of ch. 13 on hunting rites addressed to Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po at Thempang. 107 Cf. Rock 1948: 102 on Naxi hunting rites. 108 For examples, see Graham 1958: 62-63, Hu Chien-min 1941: 25. 109 Torrance 1923: 157-158 (plate), cf. Graham 1958: 60-62. 110 Torrance 1933-1934: 46. 111 Graham 1958: 62-63. 112 Graham 1958: 80-81. 113 For the original text, see ch. 11 n. 216. 114 For the original text, see ch. 11 n. 210. 115 Rock 1948: 75-76 with inserted material in parentheses in the original. 116 Rock 1948: 78 with inserted material in parentheses in the original. 117 Rock 1955: 142, clarifying insertions in [ ] are mine. 118 Graham 1958: 86. 119 Graham 1958: 86. 120 This is the translation by Graham 1958: 72, section 6.

121

122

123

124

125

126 127 128 129

130

131 132 133

See references to the series of passes (la) named after ‘doors’ (sgo mo) of precious materials (mchong, gser, zangs, lcags, dung, byur ru, nam kra) in the Sha ru shul ston gyi rabs la sogs pa from Dga’ thang: 62-63, 184-185, ff. 5-6. See Humphrey and Urgunge Onon 1996: 240 on a premodern Manchu example in which cut but living sacred trees which formed the conduit to the sky, and along which the deities and shaman travelled forth, are fixed to stakes driven in the ground called the ‘gold and silver gate’. For example, see Rock 1937: 31-46 on the descent itinerary of the primordial Naxi ritual specialist Dtô-mbà Shí-lô in the ritual text Shí lô t’û bbué chanted during funeral rites for a deceased dtô-mbà. For the premodern Qiang, see Torrance 1920, Torrance 1932, Torrance 1933-1934, Hu Chien-min 1941, Graham 1958, and cf. also notes on the contemporary Premi (Pumi) in Wellens 2010: 126-128, fig. 3.5, and on the contemporary Ersu in Zhang 2013: 11-12, 449. Reports of the “Lolo/Lo-lo” (i.e., Nuosu, Yi) having white rock veneration occur in the older literature; see Torrance 1920: 34, and Rahmann 1948: 401-402. For Qiang, see Torrance 1920: 28-29, Torrance 1933-1934: 35, Graham 1958: 68, 70, Wen Yu 1950: 36, Hu Chien-min 1941: 5; and for Naxi, see Rock 1963: 317, Rock and Oppitz 1998: 174, 180, Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 108-109; while for Ersu, see Zhang 2013: 11-12, 449. Torrance 1933-1934: 33. Torrance 1933-1934: 33, Graham 1958: 16. See Thomas 1957 for lha brag dkar po rtse and lha brag dgar po’i rtse in a glud rabs recorded in IOL Tib J 734: 5r207, 5r212. Rlangs: 4: rnam pa lnga’i snying po las / sgo nga chen po gcig yong ba / phyi’i sgong shun la / lha brag dkar po chags / nang gi sgong chu la / dung mtsho dkar mor ’khyil / bar gyi sgo nga’i dar cha la / rigs drug sems can kun tu grol /; 14: shel brag dkar po’i gur nang na / mi’u rigs chen yod. The respective dkar po and dkar mo qualifiers in the first passage are probably intended as gendering of the rock and lake. In the beginning of a western Tamang chant with an origin myth explaining the primordial shaman, Dunsur Bon, there is a round living lake out of which originates the ‘marble-stone’ (do ni syelgar, CT rdo ni shel dkar), and eventually an egg out of which arises Dunsur Bon; Höfer 1997: 42-43 n. 14, cf. also p. 60 on the western Tamang Syelgar Jomo (CT shel dkar jo mo) “a class of divinities believed to reside in whitish rocks”. Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel: 1b, 4-2b, 5 and 11b, 5 (= Karmay and Nagano 2002: 1/11-12 and 5/21). See also another myth in the Mu ye pra phud: 18a, 1 (= Karmay and Nagano 2002: 43/72) featuring the name Srid-brag rTse-mtho, ‘Origin Rock High Point’ for a divine male progenitor figure. The full text of the Song of the ston pa sGam-chen Pha-wang bringing down the lha from Tsango is translated in ch. 9. The series occurs in Tamdringang 1: 27a, 1-30b, 3, cf. the version in Ura: 35b, 1-40a, 5. Lhau 1: 9-10 and Hoongla 5, 3b, 7. Cf. Bka’ chems: 60, on the ‘four great kings’ of the material world combined into a Buddhist myth of origin/cosmology: Ri’i rGyal-po mChog-rabs, rDo’i rGyal-po Ar-mo-le-ka, Shing-gi rGyal-po Shing-chen Sa-rtol, mTsho’i rGyal-po mTsho-chen Ma-dros-pa.

397

Notes to pages 184–196

134 See ch. 11 n. 111 on the Ar-mo-leb stone. 135 As a Dakpa ‘bat’ name, see ch. 16 fig. 30 and n. 319. A more remote possibility is that it reflects CT ’ug pa ‘owl’, although there is no local evidence for this. It is noteworthy that owls have dedicated sections within chant collections used by Qiang shamans, although they may be allegorical or metaphorical in that context; see Graham 1958: 74-75, 81-82. 136 See the Yewang itineraries in ch. 7 fig. 9, and the meaning of thung noted there. 137 Graham 1958: 73/79 ‘section 2’, and pp. 75/82 ‘section 9’. 138 Rock 1963: 171, 221, 506, Rock 1972, II: 272, Rock 1952, I: 227 n. 410, Rock 1952, II: 793, Rock 1955: plate VI and caption. 139 See Graham 1958: 46 fig. 3 on the Qiang, Gros 2012: 383 fig. 8.7 on the Drung, Nicoletti 2006: 88-89 on the Kulunge Rai. 140 Local informants now interpret the larger, peaked black rock above this small shrine as the “hat of Guru Rinpoche”, making it one of dozens of identical Buddhist interpretations of similar rocks found located throughout this part of eastern Bhutan. 141 Wellens 2010: fig. 3.5. 142 Hu Chien-min 1941: 9. 143 See Graham 1958: 67, 69-70 for section 1 of the ‘sacred books’ of the shaman at Ho-p’ing-chai. 144 Graham 1958: 15-16, cf. descriptions by Torrance 1920: 16 and Torrance 1923: 152, 160. 145 The original text reads gser gyi skas ‘golden staircase’ which is a poetic description of the pillar itself. 146 Sources for fig. 36: for Qiang gods of the house, Hu Chien-min 1941: 8-10 and Graham 1958: 69-70 cf. also 49-50 whose diverse lists of domestic sites I have merged; for Wamling, Dorji Penjore 2004: 61-63; for Lawa, Lawa 2, text 13: 1b, 1-2a, 5; for Ura in Bumthang, Ura: 14b, 1-3, which is in the form of a bsangs purification of the listed aspects; for Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel, see Karmay and Nagano 2002: 8 (= f. 19a). It may well be the case that old traces of the worship of deities of the house have been incorporated into myths recorded in sources composed in southernmost Tibetan areas adjacent to the cult’s distribution region. In the long redaction of the gNya’-khri bTsan-po myth in Mkhas pa lde’u: 231, the brother deities lHe-rje Gung-rtsan and lHe-rje Zin-gdags, who are two of the seven sons of the great Phywa, Ya-lha bDal-drug, on the thirteenth level of the sky world, and hence the paternal uncles of gNya’-khri bTsan-po, have children together with their respective spouses. These offspring include, amongst others, the lha of the house roof (mkhar gyi rtse), the lha of the outside (phyi) and inside (nang) of the house, of the door (sgo), and of the field (zhing). Ethnographically, one can compare also the list of clan deities and aspects of the domestic microcosm chanted in the sa ṅrap by Western Tamang bombo shamans, including fire-place, main post, shingles, beams, door, floor, ceiling, etc.; Höfer 1994: 121-123, Höfer 1981: 59-61. See the Sara ṅdew rites chanted by senior clans of the Mewahang Rai, the itinerary of which includes hearth, doorway, veranda, eaves, grain mortar, stairs, roof, and in some variants the drying rack; Gaenszle 2007: 277-279. 147 Hu Chien-min 1941: 7. 148 On the Roop festival at Goleng, see Lham Dorji 2004: 28, 30, 32-36 and the plate “Bonpo offering tshog on the attic (10th day)” on p. 32.

398

149 The last hereditary ha bon to perform a full Ha Bon festival in Gortshom undertook a phase of offering rites to Srid-pa’i lha in the attic of his house early on during the festival; interview with Sonam Dorji, Gortshom, 14 March 2012. 150 On the Kharpu festival at Tsamang, see Ugyen Pelgen 2004: 134-135. 151 In the period when I conducted my field research, rites addressing offerings and requests to the “lha above” (no identities were given) were still performed in house ‘attics’ (yangthog) by the oldest families in Gortshom who formerly sponsored the Ha Bon. They could be performed by the laymen and laywomen of the household, and take place on the tenth day of the fifth lunar month, and concern ensuring enough rain for crops, or less when there is too much rain. During the rites, platters of offerings are carried up to the attic and placed there; interview with Jambala, Gortshom, 16 November 2012. 152 At Khoma village, the four seasonal rites involve only eight households from among the many present today. These are the five original khral pa households, plus three zur pa or derivative households that split off due to marriage. 153 See ch. 16 n. 120. 154 See Graham 1958: 63 for a rite at Mu-shang-chai in a sacred grove, although both he (pp. 46-47, 102-103) and Torrance 1923: 160 indicated that worship of the five main deities at the house roof and sacred grove followed the same patterns and procedures, albeit that the former are family events and the latter community ones. 155 See Graham 1958: 67, 69 for a rite at Ho-p’ing-chai. 156 The caption above the female figure holding a bowl to the right of the shrine describes a ‘kinswoman’ apparently ‘fit’ (chog) to bear the bowl: Gnyan [read: gnyen] mo phur [read: phor] chog lags so //. My reading of gnyen mo is supported by the caption above the other female figure on the far right of the same folio who also takes the female kin term ma ma lce mo. Ma ma can refer to the mother of a relative or a person’s second classificatory mother in certain marriage constellations, while A lce is the common written form for ‘elder sister’ terms in texts from the Himalayas around Bhutan and the Mon-yul Corridor written using Tibetan orthography; cf. Tibetic a che ~ a ce ~ a źe in CDTD (nouns) entry 9327. 157 PT 1289: v3, 12: gshang dril chen na phyag ma g.yon na snams / gshog the ra ther bu ni phyag ma g.yas na snams /. 158 The original inscription on f. 228b of the manuscript Wadd 1a is no longer fully legible, thus it is partly reconstructed here after the copy by Hoffmann 1950: Tafel 10 (see pl. 227). 159 Kapstein 2000: 150, 264 n. 62. 160 Martin et al. 2003: 540-541, Karmay 2009: 63. 161 During an Idu Mishmi brophee or secondary funeral rites for a suicide victim that Gerhard Heller and I recorded in Upper Dibang valley during 2007, a live cock suspended by its legs was used to manipulate the final departure of the soul of the deceased to the land of the dead. In some death rites from the region, a cock or hen– depending upon the gender of the deceased–is also given to the soul of the deceased as a companion for the journey to the post-mortem abode of the ancestors, so that they do not attempt to take their living spouse(s) or loved ones with them; see Chuan-kang Shih 1998: 114 for a Moso example, and Michaud, He Limin and Zhong Yaoping 2017 for a Naxi example. A live cock or hen, usually suspended in

Notes to pages 196–205

162

163

164

165

166 167

168

169

170 171

some way, is commonly used by various Himalayan shamans as a sort of divinatory device to register when the ‘soul’ is present during rites directed towards its manipulation or retrieval; for parallel examples from either end of the extended eastern Himalayas, see Strickland 1982: 43-44, 212, 235-237, 249 on the Gurung/Tamu and Gros 2012: 384-385 on the Drung. In the upper Subansiri River valley from 2004 to 2007, I regularly observed Mra healing rites conducted by a nyibu ritual specialist in which a live cock or hen was placed in the household’s ‘life basket’ which is attached on the ancestral shrine (i.e., north) wall inside every house. The life basket is the seat of the Chingtong or life deity, and the souls of all family members are protected together in it during such rites; cf. ch. 18 and pl. 259-260. See Rock 1952, II: 543-546, where a live chicken is given to the Ssú life deities of family members in exchange for any missing souls, as well as for their riches, livestock, grain, children, abundance and long life, during rites performed by the dtô-mbà ritual specialist. The outline given here is of an Idu Mishmi Amrah-nah filmed at Anini by Gerhard Heller during November 2002. The rite was performed at the completion of an Amresay ritual lasting thirty hours to treat mental disturbance in a woman whose husband had committed suicide, and whose wandering soul was manifesting in her dreams requesting she have intercourse with him. In this case, the performing igu’s ancestral auxiliary was ‘great-grandfather’ Abramo, the primordial shaman who first performed the healing rite, while the sacrifice was directed to the mountain deity Ahungo Melee also considered as an auxiliary of the igu. Brief notes on Amrah-nah are also given in Mathem Linggi and Tamune Miso 1999: 26. An almost identical massi figure also performs in the Chiksaybu festival of the Rahungpa to the north in Dirang. The batpo figures – who number up to thirty persons – performing during the Sherdukpen Khiksaba festivals that are related to both Chiksaybu and the Bugun’s Tchat Sowai festival, appear to be a distant echo of the solo massi and their highly specialised roles; see Dollfus and Jacquesson 2013: plate IX, 70-72, 76-79, 104. Pandey 1996: 85-86. Michael Oppitz pers. comm. June 2013 suggested to me that the photograph of a Moso ddaba’s ‘iron hat’ in Mathieu 1998: 213 depicts the same headgear as the Naxi bâ-k’ô. On all these ritual implements and their Naxi pictographs and myths, see Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 57-58, 61-62, and Rock 1963: 15. Joseph Rock (see Rock 1952, I: 133-134 n. 117, Rock 1955: 18 n. 74) first drew a comparison between the gsas khrom headgear in the Gzer myig and the Naxi bâ-k’ô. Original caption reads: “Dongba dance image from the Dongba scripture: ‘Langjiu jingjiu’ god’s dance” (Dongba jing zhongde Dongba wudao xingxiang; Langjiu jingjiu’ shen wu); see He Wanbao and Yunnan sheng shehui kexueyuan Lijiang Dongba wenhua yanjiusuo 1992: 74. Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 57. Dzala pronunciations among upper Khoma Chu valley informants varied between asha ~ ashang, with the former variant more common.

172 173 174 175

176

177 178 179

180 181

182

183 184 185

186 187 188

On the text and its full title see Rock 1972: 453, cf. the illustration in Rock 1963: plate III lower folio. Jackson 1979: 93. Rock 1955: 33, 188, cf. also 14, 35, 152. Rock 1955: 35, “He wears the trident-like Bà-k’ô and the long feathers of the gkó-ná the great black vulture Aegypus monachus of the northern grasslands, the hat is usually figured thus [pictograph of a very broad-brimmed hat here]. This type of hat colloquially called Ssû-p’èr dtá-lâ is only worn by dtô-mbàs performing the Khî Nv’ funerary ceremony; the literary name is Bà-k’ô.” See also Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 58 on gkó-ndû feathers on the broad-brimmed hat. Dga’ thang: 15-16, 105-106, f. 20, l. 5-22, l. 2, cf. also khab sgo btsan gsum f. 23, l. 9. A prophecy related to Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer, who was born and lived at gTam-shul where the dGa’-thang manuscripts were discovered, describes the genius loci in the southern and western parts of that area with the wording lho ru ma mo spun gsum / nub tu btsan gsum /; Chos-’phel 2002: 120. Dga’ thang: 13, 97, f. 17, l. 1-2. Oppitz 2013, I: 405. The single-sided hand drum was in use among bon shamans in the Srid-pa’i lha cult until recent times in the northern range of my research area; see my data on this now published in Oppitz 2013, I: 421-423. On the role of the muén-t’ù ritual staff, partly made of bamboo, in Naxi rites, see Rock 1955: 188-189, Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 56. For details on Qiang priests, their equipment and costumes, see Graham 1958: 55-58, plates 14, 16, Oppitz 2004, Oppitz 2013, I: 489495, 509-514 and Oppitz 2013, II: 1133-1165 plates 891-955. On the ritual significance of the golden monkey (Naxi: Ha-shi yü-shi) for Naxi dtô-mbà, see Rock 1937: 46 n. 2. See Graham 1958: 45-46, 51-52, 53, 58, Oppitz 2013, I: 510-513 and Stein 1957: 6-9, cf. Mulu Abaddu the ‘Great Heaven’ as the central deity of the Moso ddaba in Mathieu 1998: 216, 222, 226. Oppitz 2013, I: 512, cf. Stein 1957: 6-9. See Rock 1935: 75-76 and Rock 1952, I: 276 n. 582, cf. also the references to monkey ancestors in Mathieu 2003: 417 n. 142, 460-462. See Sørensen 1994: 127 n. 329, who points out the links made by Buddhist gter ma compilers to monkey heroes in Indian epic literature, but ignores the existing Himalayan mythologies of Tibeto-Burman speaking highland peoples as an alternative source; see Allen 2012: 33-42 for a Himalayan myth of the human-monkey fraternal ancestral link. Graham 1958: plate 16 and Oppitz 2013, II: 1135 plate 905, 1164-1165 plates 954, 955. See, for examples, Allen 2012: 182 (on ancestors of Gurung priests), de Beauvoir Stocks 1925: 444 (on the Lepcha mun). I recorded monkey skull protectors on house door lintels at sites between Bumdeling in the upper Kholong Chu valley of Bhutan in the west, Tawang District and the Dirang District of Mon-yul Corridor in the east. In the upper Subansiri River valley, when a Mra house is constructed, a monkey skull, model bow and arrow and small branch of a thorny shrub are all attached to the top of the main external pillar (tongko gingah) and left there as protective devices; cf.

399

Notes to pages 205–233

189 190

191 192

193 194

195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207

208 209 210 211 212

400

use of the guardian monkey erected on a pole at the entrance to Mru villages; Löffler 2012: 72 and plate “Guardian monkey”. Graham 1958: 93. Huber 2011: 91, Riddi 2006: 201, 206, Gibi 2003: 104, Elwin 1958: 275, Pandey 1974: 64-65, cf. Aisher 2006: 381. Apatani funeral chants include the idea that the monkey clears the path to the land of the dead; see Blackburn 2005: Anhang 1, pp. 100-107, while the same idea is found amongst the Hill Miri. Stein 1957: 7. For the most recent interpretation of the role of the monkey in the Dri-gum/Lo-ngam tale, see Dotson 2013: 267, 318 n. 10 and the sources mentioned therein. See images of Qiang shamans carrying the abbu mula in Oppitz 2004: 31 fig. 40, 41 fig. 59, Oppitz 2013, II: 1135 plate 905, 1164 plate 954. Carrying or placement of a shaman’s auxiliary in the form of body parts or dried corpses of animals and birds under the arm or armpit is commonplace throughout the extended eastern Himalayas. See Huber 2015b, and cf. de Sales 1995 on such figures in highland Nepal. See Macdonald (original from p. 203 of his 1930 book) as cited in Karmay 1998: 358-359, and the original caption for Macdonald’s photograph of the Gyantse dPa’-bo Ro-glud in Clarke 1997: 89 pl. 92. Graham 1958: 55-56, cf. Oppitz 2004: 13-14. Cf. the line dung shog dkar po la g.yu ris sngon mo bris in the Gzer myig (Francke 1924: 254). See ch. 11 n. 172. Thempang 1: 17a, 4-17b, 4, see ch. 11 n. 173 for the text. Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel: f. 9a, l. 3 (= Karmay and Nagano 2002: 4/19). See, for example, Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002. Bon gshen rnams sku la za ’og ber chen gsol, in Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel: 6b, Karmay and Nagano 2002: 3. Rock 1955: 14, 188. See plate and text in Rock and Oppitz 1998: 187, and also He Limin and He Shicheng 1998: plates on 140, 166, 168. McKhann 1992: 268-269. Rock 1963: Plate XV. Tsewang Norbu 2008: 36. The trousers are known more specifically in Tibetan as mon dar and mon dar gyi gos to acknowledge their unique silk material and place of origin, although in Tawang they are also called by the common Tibetan words dor ma (spoken dorna) and rkang gos (spoken kangnom) both meaning ‘trousers’. The same trousers worn by ritual specialists in nearby Kurtöp speaking communities are known as braga and cha’i dorma. Bailey and Morshead 1914: 13. Rock 1937: 25 cf. Rock 1963: 157, see also Oppitz and Mu Chen 1997: 46, Oppitz 1998: 336, Jackson 1979: 93. Rock 1963: 384. In addition to works by Stein and the Naxi studies cited below, we can mention an interesting article by de Sales 1994 on “Magar Songs, Naxi Pictograms and Dunhuang Texts”, and the comparative study of shaman drums by Oppitz 2013, I-II. I do not discuss either here

since they both remained agnostic about the direction of possible diffusions involved. 213 See Stein 1957, Stein 1961, Stein 1972. 214 Wang Ming-ke 2000, Kapstein 2006: 29. 215 See Rock 1952, I, and on Rock’s ideas see also Mathieu 2011: 54, 72, 75-78 and Pan Anshi 1998: 284-285; Jackson 1979, Jackson 1980 and on Jackson’s ideas see also Mathieu: 2003: 101-103, Mathieu 2015. 216 These Naxi studies were informed by Tibetan historiographical and hagiographical narratives, that were first put into circulation during the late nineteenth- and earlier twentieth centuries by scholars such as S.C. Das, A. Waddell, C. Bell, A.H. Francke and H. Hoffmann. On the problem of a claimed “pre-Buddhist” Tibetan Bon tradition, see Stein 2010: 232. On the unproven notion that some form of “Bon” was the religious or ritual tradition of the imperial Tibetan court, and thus a ‘state religion’, see van Schaik 2013 and Walter 2009.

18. Tr ace s a n d G a ps Bet w e en E a st a n d We st 1

For images of the garment, see Mathieu and Ho 2011: 104, plate 6.2, Rock 1963: plates XXIII, XXIV and caption, Rock 1947, I: plate 76 following p. 140, Rock 1924: 408 plate and caption, Goullart 1957: plate 12 following p. 168. 2 McKhann 1992: 117. 3 McKhann 1992: 104 n. 101, cf. Rock 1948: 76-77 n. 195. 4 See ch. 15 n. 119. 5 On yul and shul attached to clan names in Old Tibetan, see Bialek 2018, 1: 216 n. 1. 6 Rock 1963: 488. 7 Bacot 1913: plate XI. 8 See bsen mkhar in PT 1286: 2 and PT 1287: 216, and Bialek 2018, 1: 215 n. 1 on a bse mkhar reconstruction and its rationale. 9 Dga’ thang: 49-50, 161, f. 31, l. 1-2. 10 See citations from Chinese works in Stein 1990: 165-167, Thomas 1957: 105-106, and cf. also Wang Ming-ke 2000 on the historical background of the Qiangic peoples in the region. 11 For descriptions, illustrations and discussions of these stronghold towers and locations, see records for far eastern Tibetan Plateau areas in: Torrance 1920: 5 plate, 16-18, Torrance 1932: plate between 12-13, 18, Graham 1958: 16-17, plates 8-10, McKhann 1998: 28 plates, Bacot 1913: plate I, Stein 1961: 80-81 n. 222, Stein 1990: 165, 167 figs. 73-74, Oppitz 2004: 10 fig. 1, Darragon 2009, Xiang Xinjie 2009; and for records in far southern and parts of central Tibet see Stein 1972: plate 2 opp. p. 49, 119-120 n. 1, Wylie 1964, Ward 1936: 388, Darragon 2009, Darragon 2015, Aris 1979: 110, Ardussi 2004: 68 n. 22, Bodt 2012: Appendix IX, Tsering Gyalbo, Hazod and Sørensen 2000: 207, Hazod 2009: 180, Chan 1994: 688-689, 691, and Richardson in Ferrari 1958: 138, plate 39. Katia Buffetrille pers. comm. June 2016 also kindly provided me with oral descriptions and photographs of towers she observed throughout lHo-brag during the late 1980s.

Notes to pages 223–233

12

Darragon 2009: 79. Publication of the full results of this C14 dating is an urgent desideratum. 13 See the typology in Darragon 2009: 75. 14 Xiang Xinjie 2009: 67-69, 74, 88, 90-91, 224, 226, 260-263. 15 Stein 1961. 16 Oppitz 1974 and Huber 2008: 236-237, nn. 14-17. 17 Derived from the map Übersicht Himalaya Fünf >Inseln der Form< in Oppitz 2013, I: 44-45. 18 Hsu 1998: 9, 12-13, 17-18 n. 3-4, cf. Wellens 2012 and Mathieu 2003: 1-3. In the recent re-evaluation of Naic and Qiangic by Jacques and Michaud 2011: 6 fig. 2, their tentative family tree groups Namuyi, Shixing, Naxi, Na/Moso and Laze in a Naic sub-branch, with the latter three comprising a subordinate Naish group. 19 Note Rock 1963: 300, “Correctly nà-khî means a Nà-khî, while black man is khî-nà, the adjective modifying a noun follows it.” Cf. also McKhann 1998: 18 n. 4 on debates about the meaning of nà in the name. 20 During the early twentieth century, Rock 1947: 4 observed that “The name Mo-so [...] is disliked by the Na-khi, it is looked upon as derogatory.” 21 See Wang Ming-ke 2000, Evans 2001: 1, Stein 1957, and Stein 1961: 65-66 who summarised the forms and their potential meanings as “Nous savons déjà que rMa, rMe ou rMi est le nom que les K’iang se donnent à eux-mêmes, alors que dans une langue apparentée, le Jyarung, “homme” se dit rMi. Malgré l’alternance perpétuelle des voyelles, il fait peut-être séparer les deux groupes de mots signifiant “ciel”, d’une part, et “hommes”, nom de tribu, de l’autre.” Why certain authors transcribe the variations as, for example, either Rma or rMa, is not clear to me. 22 On the scheme see Rock 1955: 151 n. 10 and Mathieu 2003: 272 ff., and for the Mà’ clan pictograph see Rock 1963: 250, 284, cf. McKhann 1992: 61-62. One can compare this scheme with the fourfold patrilineal proto-clan scheme in in Tibetan myth and historiography, and the proto-clan in it named sMar/rMa/Mra/rMu/sMu, and so on; see the overview and some name variants in Stein 1961. 23 See McKhann 1998: 11, 18 n. 14. 24 I thank Christine Mathieu pers. comm. 6 June 2016 for this reference. 25 For examples, see Stein 1990: 99-102 and Campany 2002: 69-70. 26 This highly likely refers to the settlement name gDeng-mal-bi mentioned in 1488 or 1489 by Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 102b, 2 when he visited Kurtö, including nearby rTa-bi. 27 Padma Gling-pa n.d: f. 103b, 1. 28 Aris 1979: 129. 29 See Lhau 1, Lhau 2 and Hoongla 5 which are all versions of the same text. We also know this text was used at Zangling and Khimu for Srid-pa’i lha worship during the past, and thus probably at still other sites in Tawang. 30 Rgyal rigs: 31a, and Lobsang Tenpa 2015: 488-492. 31 On the Mra people, see Huber 2010, Huber 2011, Huber 2011a, Huber 2012 and cf. Huber 1999: ch. 8 and plate 8.3. My own monograph on Mra society, Children of the Rain, is forthcoming. 32 Accounts of the Na or Nani (sometimes also reported as Nga and Näng, most recently as Nah in Indian sources, and as Klung tu Klo-pa, Klung-klo or Kha-klo in Tibetan sources) must be distinguished in

33 34

35 36

37

38 39 40

two historical phases, namely those with observations dating before the period 1959-1962, and those dating after it. Considerable social, cultural and linguistic transformation occurred within Na communities as a result of incorporation during the 1950s of Na settlement areas north and south of the McMahon Line by the Chinese and Indian states, respectively, then the Tibetan exile of 1959, and the following Sino-Indian border war of 1962. In Indianadministered Na settlements, this transformation was mainly due to the presence of Tibetan refugees, displacement during conflicts, influx of other peoples from the upper Kamla and Subansiri valleys who served the Indian administration and military at Taksing, and the advent of much new intermarriage with other upper Subansiri and upper Kamla river populations. In the Chinese-administered settlement at Doyü, modern intermarriage with Tibetans – something encouraged by the state – has had significant impacts. For the pre-1959 period, see: Bailey and Morshead 1914, Ludlow 1936, Davy 1945-1946, von Fürer-Haimendorf 1947, G. Krishnatry 1955-1956, Sailo 1957. For the post-1959 period, see: Chakma 1961, Shukla 1965, Li Jian Shang et al. 1987, Barthakur 1981, Sarkar 1982, Sarkar 1983, Sarkar 1996, Das and Sarkar 1995. Other recent Indian publications concerning the Na (or Nah) are not cited here because they are either not based upon field research directly within Na settlements of the upper Subansiri basin, or proved to be too inaccurate when their contents were cross-checked during my field studies in that area. My own publications mentioning the Na include Huber 2012, Huber 2011a, Huber 2010, and cf. Huber 1999: ch. 8 and plate 8.3. On Bangru, see now Bodt and Lieberherr 2015. The small handbook by Pertin 1994 is the only published account of modern Na (or ‘Nah’) to date. He describes a Tani language, but his results should be treated with considerable caution due to his methodology. Pertin never visited upper Subansiri River valley sites of Na habitation for sampling. The few male informants he interviewed at Darporijo all came from only one of the four Na clans, being those who had lived several generations in Indianadministered settlements together with speakers of different languages including Tani dialects, Bangru, Puroik and Tibetan, which had all been spoken in the community throughout the twentieth century due to migration, intermarriage, trade and slave-keeping. Pertin did not take the limited Chinese data on Na language into consideration; see for example Li Jian Shang et al. 1987. See Huber 2012: 99, 100 fig 5.2, 101 fig. 5.3. On longhouses and their social significance in premodern Nyishi (i.e., “Dafla” in the sources) and Tagin areas, see Davy 1945-1946: 11, 19, 57, von Fürer-Haimendorf 1950: 4, 53, cf. Krishnatry 1997: 1. My research assistant Tapi Mra documented such a Na burial for me with field notes, photographs and audio recordings at Taksing during March 2007; see also Shukla 1965, Das and Sarkar 1995: 268. Graham 1958: 7, plates 2-3, Stein 1957: 4, Oppitz 2004: 12. See especially Li Jian Shang et al. 1987, I: 248-251, Huber 2010. See the versions of both Ts’ò mbêr t’û and Ts’ò mbêr ssáw translated or summarised in Rock 1935, Rock 1948: 71-88, Rock 1952, I: 354-357, Rock 1952, II: 676-687, McKhann 1992: 84-129, McKhann 2012: 275280, and Oppitz 1998. See also Graham 1961: 84-88 for a “Lolo” (i.e., Nuosu, Yi) version, and Mathieu 2003: 434-463 for a Moso version.

401

Notes to pages 234–249

41 42

43 44 45 46

47 48 49

50 51

52 53

54

55 56

57

58

402

Wellens 2012, cf. other eastern Himalayan examples in Elwin 1958, Gaenszle 2000, Huber 2010 and Allen 2012. Probably due to the same or similar reasons, many other languages of hill peoples in the region have ‘horse’ words that are modern loans, mostly borrowed or derived from Assamese or Hindi. Reported in Sailo 1957: 56 and also by my Taksing informants in 2006. See Hu Chien-min 1941: 10-11, and the ritual chant in Graham 1958: 85, section 16. Rock 1952, II: 453 rubrics 9 and 10. See also Oppitz 2007c: 167-168, discussing the Yi but commenting from a wider perspective that, “[o]ver time, this concept was also used to consolidate the interior division of society into classes, by separating the bones into white bones (for higher ranks) and into black bones (for commoners). The societies concerned were the Ordos, the Khalkha, the Chakas and all eastern Mongolian groups; the Kalmuks among the western Mongols; and the Kazakhs and the Usbeks among the Turks.” Goullart 1957: 140-141, Mathieu 2003: 252. Mathieu 2003: 272-285 and the literature cited therein. For neighbouring Nyishi communities of Koloriang to the west, Alex Aisher also reports a deity called Changtom-Nyungpoh who dwells in the ground below the nyoding, and whose role is to “uphold the fertility and child-rearing abilities of women”; Aisher 2006: 125. Cf. also Blackburn 2010: 130 on the Chantung shrine and its function among the Apatani. See Yang Fuquan 1998 and plates throughout his chapter, with the succinct quotation here from Elisabeth Hsu’s Introduction to the volume, p. 16. Cf. also McKhann 1992: 259-260. Jackson 1979: 95 cites Yueh-hua Lin. 1961. The Lo-lo of Liang Shan. New Haven, p. 134, on the use of the life basket amongst the Lo-lo (i.e., Nuosu, Yi). Jackson 1979: 95-97. For example, the Ao Naga have a special soul basket (mushemkang) representing a model of the ‘soul’, but its use is limited to holding the afterbirth for a newborn child after which it is hung upon a wooden rack outside of the dwelling house; see Sutter 2008: 277-279, figs. 2-4. Curiously, Dtô-zhì or Dtô-dzhì (Jackson’s Dto-dzhi) was the name of a famous nineteenth century Naxi dtô-mbà; Jackson and Pan Anshi 1998: 244, 246, 248, 270 et passim, Jackson 1979: 56. Results from my field research in Limeking Circle, Upper Subansiri District, 2004-2008. While Naxi have ò ‘female [sexual] emissions’ and hó ‘male semen’ and ‘the spirit of semen’, the Nami have the ’o ‘revitalising fluid’ within the Srid-pa’i lha cult, and the Nani use oyik for ‘blood’. In the Dzala and Dakpa speaking zone, the plant Perilla frutescens var. frutescens is most commonly called nem (cf. CT snum ‘oil’ and Tshangla nam ‘oil crop plant’), which upper Subansiri peoples call tamang and grow and use in the same way, while the Naxi also use the same plant type but call it k’ô’-dd`v that Rock 1963: 204 identified as a member of the Labiatae (Lamiaceae). Hiroyuki Suzuki and Tashi Nyima 2016 (abstract), who concluded that “’Bo skad is nearly close to languages within the Qiangic branch, however, it has been influenced by Tibetic languages.”

59

Original text in Jacques 2016 (accessed 7 December 2017) reads, “Cette découverte confirme l’idée d’une expansion « récente » de la langue tibétaine hors du Tibet central (c’est à dire postérieure à l’établissement de l’empire tibétain) sur des régions où étaient parlées plutôt des langues gyalronguiques, dont la région Gyalrong et les poches isolées de Chamdo sont les dernières traces. Il faut souligner l’importance de cette découverte pour notre compréhension de l’histoire du peuplement du Tibet oriental.” 60 See Tournadre 2013: 105, van Driem 2005: 86, and the “Basum” entry on Glottolog 3.3 (Hammarström, H., R. Forkel and M. Haspelmath. 2018, accessed 28 September 2018) referencing the publication by Qu, Aitang and Gong, Que and Yi, Xi and Jie, Ang. 1989. “Wèizàng fāngyánde xīn tǔyǔ - jì zuìjìn fāxiànde Bāsōnghuà [A new patois of Weizang dialect of Tibetan: Note on newly discovered Basong speech]”, Minzu Yuwen, 3, pp. 39-61, not seen by me at the time of writing. 61 Hazod 2009: 174, 178-180. 62 Cf. Blench and Post 2014: 90, “Tibetic speakers undergo a major expansion (perhaps as late as 500 AD?) assimilating linguistic diversity on the Plateau”. 63 Tamang et al. 2018: Conclusions, cf. also Choongwon Jeong et al. 2016.

R efl ect ions I I I 1

2 3 4

5 6

There are, of course, frequently other elements, for example from South Asian or Chinese religions and folk motifs and practices, incorporated into highland shaman traditions in these regions, although it is interesting how absent such influences appear to be within the Srid-pa’i lha cult itself. Oppitz 2013 I & II. For example, see Bodt 2012 and Kazuharu Mizuno with Lobsang Tenpa 2015. See, for examples, Karma Phuntsho 2013: 54 and Lungtaen Gyatso 2011: 29-30. Such statements appear to confuse the complex relationship between Dzongkha and written forms of Classical Tibetan that are referred to as “chökay” (cf. CT chos skad) in Bhutan; see van Driem 1994: 89. See Bodt 2014: 226, Bodt 2014b: 154-155, 186. For records of autonomous, ‘bon’-identified, community-based ritual specialists and their ritual cultures on map 18: see van Schaik 2013: 241-248 on human ritual specialists with designations bon po, bon rje, sku gshen and zhal ta pa on inscribed wooden slip documents of the mid-eighth to mid-ninth century period from the Tarim Basin; see sNgon-’dzin Ngag-dbang rGya-mtsho 2006 (cf. Charles Ramble’s translation in Ngondzin Ngawang Gyatso 2016), Berounský 2016, Berounský 2017 on le’u or le’u bon po in Tewo; see Wellens 2010: 193-200 and the film Blood for the Gods by Schiesser, Gami Peiga and Tsering Drolma 2016 on Pumi hangui; see Jackson 1979: 63-72 and Mathieu and Ho 2011: 54, 72, 75-78 on Joseph Rock’s ideas about “Bön” in relation to Naxi btô-mbà/bpô’-mbò’; see Balikci 2008 on bon ban and bon po in Sikkim; see Diemberger

Notes to pages 249–252

7 8

9

1992 and Diemberger and Hazod 1997 on lhaven/lha bon among the Khumbo; see Höfer 1994 and Höfer 1997 on bombo in Dhading; see Karsten 1980 on sku gshen in E-yul; see Ramble 2008 on lha bon in Te, Mustang; see Ramble 1996 on bon po in Muktinath, Mustang; see Ramble 2007 and Sihlé 2009 on A ya or A la in sKyid-rong, Po-rong, the upper Arun River basin and sNye-mo. Other types of ritual specialists with similar designations – especially bon po/bonpo - do exist at many locations in addition to those indicated upon map 18. However, apart from avoiding superficial or questionable records, the sample I have favoured is necessarily circumscribed in order to maintain some consistency in relation to bon shamans within the Srid-pa’i lha cult. While there are many differences between all these sampled specialists represented in ethnographic accounts, in general – and there are exceptions – they are more socially cognate with bon shamans who address Srid-pa’i lha in terms of these characteristics: their roles have been hereditary or preferentially so; they frequently serve their communities as opposed to, or in addition to, individual ‘clients/patients’ only; they address or are associated with communal and particularly clan and ancestral deities, such as the pho lha defined in this sense that often feature; almost all of them use written texts to conduct rites; and those found in historically more ‘Tibetanised’ environments often also serve – or served during the past – the ritual needs of socially elite groups. Stein 2010: 231-232 originally published in 1988, he also spoke of the “religion indigène”. For example, concerning the Old Tibetan ritual literature in relation to an imperial cult, van Schaik 2013: 248 advocated we “view Tibetan non-Buddhist ritual practices in general as existing across the Tibetan cultural area” (italics in original), while according to Bellezza 2014: 160 the “bon” he equated with the rites and myths in both Dunhuang and dGa’-thang manuscripts is “best defined as a significant part of, if not the sum total, of archaic ritual traditions; those that developed or were redeveloped indigenously in Tibet.” Beyond such speculations – of which these are but two among many examples – the practice of tumulus burials offers us the best empirical evidence to date of ancient ritual culture actually present upon the Tibetan Plateau. However, the geographical limits of the phenomenon contradict the above types of sweeping assessments: tumulus burial is limited to less than ca. 20 percent of the Tibetan Plateau area, with locations of ten or more sites within present-day counties of the southern half of the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR) concentrated in less than a dozen of the sixty-six TAR counties; see Guntram Hazod’s data on the map “Burial mound sites recorded by the TTT-team as of 11/2017” at https://www.oeaw. ac.at/tibetantumulustradition/maps/overview/ (accessed December 2017). On the other hand, we already have plentiful archaeological records of human occupation and settlement from nearly all areas of the Tibetan Plateau; see Aldenderfer 2011, Aldenderfer and Yinong Zhang 2004, Bellezza 2002, Brantingham et al. 2007, Brantingham et al. 2001, Heller 2006, Sonam Wangdu 2010, and references cited in all these publications. On the lHo-brag military unit stationed at Tibetan imperial colonies along the southern Silk Road, see the lho brag gi sde in Thomas 1951:

10

11

12 13 14

15 16 17

409-410, 463, cf. Taenzer 2012: 126, 142. For the Myal-pa unit, see Tsuguhito Takeuchi 2004: 53-54. On Old Tibetan wooden slip documents proving the existence of real human ritual specialists termed bon and gshen from southern Silk Road sites, see van Schaik 2013: 241-248, Thomas 1951: 390, 394-396. For an apparently Buddhist polemical use of bon terminology in an Old Tibetan manuscript fragment (Stein Collection Or.8210, Text 84, S.12243) from a southern Silk Road site, see Kazushi Iwao, S. van Schaik and Tsuguhito Takeuchi 2012: xii, 122-123, plate 113. For evidence of bon terms for non-Buddhist ritual specialists circulated more widely along the southern Silk Road, see research by Stein 2010: 246-250 into translation choices made by the bilingual Tibetan-Chinese translator Chos-grub (alias Facheng) who worked at ancient Shazhou (Dunhuang) and Ganzhou (Zhangye) during the ninth century. Cf. also the hypothesis by Christopher Beckwith 2011 concerning possible linguistic origins of the word bon in this same general region, and Stein 1972: 230. On the rarity of the Old Tibetan term gshen, due to its absence “in divination texts of Tibetan origin”, see Orosz 2003: 20. See Kapstein 2000. On the Xianbei, see Hu 2010, Dien 1991, Dien 2007. For references to seventh century ’A-zha – Tibetan relations, see Dotson 2009: 81, 86-88, 98-99 and Beckwith 1987: 18-24, 27 and relevant footnotes in both works. For possible ’A-zha cultural influences on Tibetans, see Stein 2010: 77-78, 165 citing the work of Yamaguchi Zuihō on Chinese-style administrative systems and the sku bla cult related to ’A-zha mountain worship. For other aspects of Xianbei influence upon Tibetan Plateau peoples, see Heller 2013: 21, Dotson 2013: 68, n.15 and the reference to the 2008 work by Tong cited therein, and n.16. Molè 1970, Beckwith 1987 and Beckwith 2009: 128-129, cf. Stein 2010: 78 and Tsuguhito Takeuchi 2004: 50, 53-54. Cf. n. 10 above. See especially Michael Oppitz’ comparative morphology of single-sided frame drums widely used by Himalayan and Siberian shamans meticulously mapped onto various ethnographically attested ‘islands of form’ (Inseln der Form) and ‘lines of connection’ (Verbindungslinien) for the morphology and use of the shaman’s drum. Following these mapped islands and lines, one jumps eastward from the region of the Srid-pa’i lha cult across to the Naxi ‘island’, and northwards up to the Qiang ‘island’. From there, logically one can then only go further northward into the region of Mongolia, and finally up into southern and eastern Siberia where the same drum type and cognate shaman users are also found; see Oppitz 2013, I: 35-47 map ‘Verbreitungsgebiet der Schamanentrommel in Eurasien nach >Inseln der Form mong?) to the right of the title line (cf. Phyi-tshang Mong-gar in Ardussi 2007a: 9, see Works in Other Languages), together with a seal. The left marginal title on numbered folios is Rgyal brgyud. 5. Discovered in Bhutan, archived at the Centre for Bhutan Studies, Thimphu. 6. April 2018.

Studies, Thimphu. 6. April 2010

Tamdringang 1 1. Bon bsangs kyi dpe cha ji ltar bya ba’i tshul nag bgrosu bkod pa bzhugs so 4. Handwritten manuscript, thirty-four loose numbered folios (r/v), five lines/folio. 5. Private collection, Tamdringang village, Bumthang Dzongkhag. 6. November 2014.

Sangti 1 1. Ston pa gshes rab kyis gsungs pa’i lha’i bro pa’i bro bas snyan gyi dbang po tsham byed mig gi dga’ ston gsal bar bzhugs so 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, thirty-five unnumbered folios (r/v), seven to eight lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist, Sangti village, West Kameng District. 6. December 2011.

Shan pa dmar po

Tamdringang 2 1. Title page missing; first line: ’Brong rabs bzhugso 4. Handwritten manuscript, nine loose numbered folios (r/v), five lines/ folio. 5. Private collection, Tamdringang village, Bumthang Dzongkhag. 6. November 2014.

Tamdringang 3

1. Shan pa dmar po gdam ngag dmar nag rakta’i brag la chag / 4. Handwritten manuscript of six dpe cha folios (r/v), five lines/side. 5. Library of the late Gompa Ao, Thempang village, West Kameng District. 6. March 2010.

1. dGra phas gyi gsol kha bzhugs swō 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, thirteen unnumbered folios (r/v), five lines/side. 5. Private collection, Tamdringang village, Bumthang Dzongkhag. 6. November 2014.

Shawa 1

Tangmachu

1. Lha rabs rgam chen pha wang bzhugs so 2. Text 1: Lha rabs rgam chen pha wang bzhugs so, 1a-11a Text 2: Rgam chung dang spos rab bzhugs so, 12a-19b [following page blank] Text 3: Lha rab dang bdud rtsi bcas pa bzhugs so, 21a-40b [following page blank] Text 4: Tshe phog dpal phog phud rab bkra shis sogs bzhugs so, 42a-80a 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, eighty unnumbered folios (r/v), six lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist lineage, Shawa village, Lhuntse Dzongkhag. 6. January 2012.

Shawa 2 1. Gur zhi khug lugs dang lha khug gsol thang bab thang reb dar bzhugso 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, thirty-six unnumbered folios (r/v), five lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist lineage, Shawa village, Lhuntse Dzongkhag. 6. January 2012.

Shes rab Me ’bar 1. Gter ston shes rab me ’bar gyi rnam thar le’u gsum bcu so gcig pa bzhugs so 4. Handwritten manuscript of twenty-six numbered dpe cha folios (r/v), five to six lines per side. The text is missing part of sections 27 through 31 and the colophon. 5. Private library, Bumthang, made available by the Centre for Bhutan

1. Bod ba dzu gis bro dang / ta keb go ba’I bro yong la / sgom chen chos sgrub rdo rje gis xxxx la 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top and bottom margins, eleven unnumbered folios (r/v), six lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist, Tangmachu village, Lhuntse Dzongkhag. 6. March 2012.

Thempang 1 1. Ston pa gshes rab kyis gsung pa’i lha’i bu’i gro ba’i gro rabs snyan gyi dbang po tshim byed mig gis dga’ ston gsal bar bkod pa bzhugs shwa // / he ’dzum // zhal gro // 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, forty unnumbered folios (r/v), six to seven lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist, Thempang village, West Kameng District. 6. March 2010.

Them spang rgyal rigs 1. Rje ’bangs kyi rigs rus ’byung khungs gsal ba’i sgron me bzhugs so 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, eighty-eight unnumbered folios (r/v), five lines/side. 5. Private collection, Thempang village, West Kameng District. 6. December 2009.

411

Source of Life

Thridangbi 1. Title page illegible; first line: Lha’i bka’ cha ma btang / bon gyis nthu ma btang / btsan gyis bjag pa ma 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, ten unnumbered folios (r/v), five to six lines/side. 5. Private collection, Thridangbi village, Mongar Dzongkhag. 6. March 2012.

Tsango 2 1. Dam ngags phig pa tshig gsum bzhugs so 2. Text 1: Dam ngags phig pa tshig gsum bzhugs so, 1b-16a Text 2: Bon rgyud bzhugs so dgong ’og, 17a-24b Text 3: Lha mi bklu gsum gi bskyed rgyud bzhugs so, 25a-28b Text 4: Dong rtan ku pi langs gi bstod ’bum bzhugs so, 29a-34a Text 5: Khribs la bzhugs so, 35a-37a Text 6: Bzhal thems bzhugs so, 38a-51a 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, fifty-one unnumbered folios (r/v), five to seven lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist, Khomakang village, Lhuntse Dzongkhag. 6. January 2012.

Tsango 4 1. Ston pa rgam chen pha wang gis lha phab lus 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, eighteen unnumbered folios (r/v), four to six lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist, Khomakang village, Lhuntse Dzongkhag. 6. January 2012.

5. Private collection, Ura village, Bumthang Dzongkhag. 6. March 2012.

Zanglung 2 1. G.yang zhungs gnyan rabs ma bzhugso 3. Colophon (= 8b): rmam lo chu phos pri’u lo la // sbu ri dgon pa sman zhing zhes byar bris //. The chu phos pri’u date is surely to be read as chu pho sprel, and since the manuscript itself does not appear to be particularly old a realistic range of possible dates might include 1932, 1857 or 1812. Bu-ri dgon pa is located in the Dakpa speaking hamlet of Buri adjacent to the Indo-Bhutan international frontier and the related village of Jangphu in Bhutan, and is about two kilometres distant from Zanglum village. In 1487, Padma Gling-pa visited Bu-ri and Byang-phug (Padma Gling-pa n.d.: 85a, 1-5; see works in Tibetan and Dzongkha), while Bu-ri Gyang-phu was discussed in the Rgyal rigs: 27a, 29b (Aris 1986: 40/41, 44/45, 68/69; see Works in Other Languages) as being close to Zang-lung-pa. 4. Handwritten manuscript, eight loose numbered folios (r/v), five lines/ folio. 5. Private collection (formerly property of the late Zanglung bonpo), Kyimnes Monastery, Tawang District. 6. March 2012.

Works in Tibetan and Dzongkha BGT 1985 Bod rgya tshig mdzod chen mo (Zang-Han Da Cidian), 3 vols. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Bham ga byang Tsango 9 1. No title page; first line: De gnyis srid cing sprul pa’i sras // A bo ya ngal mched gsum byung 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, twenty-one unnumbered folios (r/v), seven lines/side, of which the first page is missing. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist, Khomakang village, Lhuntse Dzongkhag. 6. January 2012.

N.d. Anonymous. Sbas yul skyid ljongs bham ga byang gi gnas yig. In Lho ’brug sman ljongs chos ldan zhing gi sbas yul khag dang sgrub gnas khyad ’phags rnams kyi gnas yig dang lo rgyus gang rnyed phyogs bsdus dad pa’i nyi ma ’dren pa’i skya rengs dkar po bzhugs. N.p., pp. 23-25.

Bka’ brten Catalogue 2001 Tenpa Yungdrung et al. (comps.), S.G. Karmay and Yasuhiko Nagano (eds.), A Catalogue of the New Collection of Bonpo Katen Texts. Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology (Bon Studies 4, Senri Ethnological Reports, 24).

Tsango 12 1. Dgung lha gsol mchod bzhugs so // lha chen bzam gling kun gyi lha 4. Handwritten manuscript booklet bound on top margin, nineteen numbered folios (r/v), six lines/side. 5. Community property held by the ritual specialist, Khomakang village, Lhuntse Dzongkhag. 6. January 2012.

Ura 1. Sangs dang lha bzhungs xegs xx bzhugs sho 4. Handwritten manuscript, forty-seven loose numbered folios (r/v), six lines/folio.

412

Bka’ chems 1989 Bka’ chems ka khol ma. Lanzhou: Kan-su’i Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Bka’ thang sde lnga 1988 O-rgyan Gling-pa (1323-1367/74?). Bka’ thang sde lnga. Beijing: Mirigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Blo-bzang Thabs-mkhas (b. ca. 1787, d. ca. 1827) ca. 1826 Dge slong blo bzang thabs mkhas nas rta dbang sdod ring sgra tshangs la ‘byor ‘ jags byas pa dang / gtsug lag khang gsar gzheng legs gso dang / rab

R efer ences a nd A bbr ev i ations

gnas su rje sgrubs khangs pa chen po gdan ‘dren zhus bskor gyi dkar chags. Hand copy of a cursive manuscript of forty-nine folios, transcribed at rTadbang, February 1979. From the private collection of Michael Aris, Oxford University.

dNgos-grub rDor-rje, Chos-grags rGya-mtsho & O-rgyan Tshe-dbang

Bod kyi lha mo’i zlo gar

DSM

1989 Bod kyi lha mo’i zlo gar gyi ’khrab gzhung phyogs bsgrigs kun phan bdud rtsi’i char ’bebs. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang.

Bod rgya skar rtsis

2010 Bkra shis g.yang rtse rdzong khag gi gnas bshad. Tashiyangtse: Dzongkhag Administration.

1997 bTsan-lha Ngag-dbang Tsul-khrims. Brda dkrol gser gyi me long. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Dung dkar tshig mdzod

1987 Bod rgya skar rtsis rig pa’i tshig mdzod. Chengdu: Si-khron Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

2002 Dung-dkar Blo-bzang ’Phrin-las. Dung dkar tshig mdzod chen mo. Beijing: Krun-go’i Bod-rig dPe-skrun-khang.

’Brug gi dngos med lam gsol

Go-shul Grags-pa ’Byung-gnas

2015 rGya-gar rDo-rje (ed.). ’Brug gi dngos med lam gsol. Thim-phu: Zhib’tshol dang brDa-brgyud sDe-tshan, rGyal-yongs dPe-mdzod dang Yig-rigs gTan-’jog-khang.

Bshad mdzod 1969 Don-dam sMra-ba’i seng-ge. A Fifteenth Century Tibetan Compendium of Knowledge: The Bśad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu by Don-damsmra-ba’i se ṅge. Ed. Lokesh Chandra. New Delhi: Sharada Rani (Śata-Pi ṭaka Series, 78).

2001 Bod btsan po’i skabs kyi gna’ rtsom gces bsdus slob deb. Beijing: Mirigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Grags pa gling grags N.d. Unpublished concordance of readings of Bon chos dar nub gi lo rgyus grags pa rin chen gling grags ces bya ba / dmongs pa blo’i gsal byed bzhugs so (alternate title: g.Yung drung bon gyi bsgrags pa rin po che’i gling grags bzhugs so) based upon manuscripts from Dolanji, Oslo and Nagchu, and the Lhasa Bonpo Tenjur edition, compiled by Per Kværne and Dan Martin. The version cited was a work in progress and is used herein with permission.

Cang rDo-rje 2000

’Brug gi mda’ rtsed. Thim-phug: Ke Em Kri [=KMT] Par-khang.

gTsang-smyon He-ru-ka (1452-1507)

Chos-grags

1981 [alias Rus-pa’i rGyan-can] Rnal ‘byor gyi dbang phyug chen po mi la ras pa’i rnam mgur. Xining: mTsho-sngon Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

1980 [1957] Dge shes chos kyi grags pas brtsams pa’i brda dag ming tshig gsal ba bzhugs so. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Gu chos rang rnam

Chos-’phel 2002 Gangs can ljongs kyi gnas bshad lam yig gsar ma / lho kha sa khul gyi gnas yig. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

De’u-dmar bsTan-’dzin Phun-tshogs (b. 1672) 1986

Shel gong shel phreng. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Deb sngon 1984 ’Gos Lo-tsa-ba, gZhon-nu-dpal (1392-1481). Deb ther sngon po, 2 vols. Chengdu: Si-khron Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Dga’ thang 2007 Pa-tshab Pa-sangs dBang-’dus and Glang-ru Nor-bu Tshe-ring. Gtam shul dga’ thang ’bum pa che nas gsar du rnyed pa’i bon gyi gna’ dpe bdams bsgrigs. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Bod-yig dpe-rnying dPe-skrun-khang.

dGa’-ba’i rDo-rje & Chab-mdo Sa-khul sMan-rtsis-khang 2002 [1995] ’Khrungs dpe dri med shel gyi me long. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

1979 Gu-ru Chos kyi dBang-phyug (1212-1270/73?). Ghu ru chos dbang gis sku’i rnam thar skabs brgyad ma’ / dharma shwara’i rnam thar. In The Autobiography and Instructions of Gu-ru Chos-kyi dbang-phyug, vol. 1. Paro: Ugyen Tempai Gyaltsen (Rin chen gter mdzod chen po’i rgyab chos, vols. 8), pp. 1-53.

Gzer mig 1991 Drang-rje bTsun-pa gSer-mig. Mdo gzer mig. Beijing: Krung-go’i Bod kyi shes-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Gzer myig N.d. Attributed to Mu-co lDem-drug. Gzer myig [cover folio], Bka’ ’dus pa rin po che gzer myig gi rgyud [internal citation]. Two vols. (Ka = 275 fols., Kha = 289 fols.); undated, illustrated manuscript catalogued as Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, OrientAbteilung; cf. Schuh 1981: 89-90 (see Works in Other Languages).

Gzi brjid 2000 Mdo dri med gzi brjid, 12 vols. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Bod-yig dPernying dPe-skrun-khang.

413

Source of Life

Gzi brjid 1964-67

Mu ye pra phud

1964-67 ’Dus pa rin po che’i rgyud dri ma med gzi brjid rab tu ’bar ba’i mdo, 12 vols. Dolanji: Tibetan Bonpo Foundation. Printed volumes of the handwritten dpe-cha edition of 1964-1967.

N.d. Mu ye pra phud phya’i mthar thug bzhugs so. Transcription and manuscript facsimile of anonymous Tibetan text in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 35-90 (see Works in Other Languages).

ʼJam-dpal rDo-rje

Nam-mkha’i Nor-bu

1971 Dri med shel phreng nas bshad pa’i sman gyi ‘khrungs dpe mdzes mtshar mig rgyan. An illustrated Tibeto-Mongolian materia medica of Ayurveda of ʼJam-dpal-rdo-rje of Mongolia. New Delhi: International Academy of Indian Culture (Śata-Piṭaka Series, 82).

1994 “Sgrung lde’u bon gsum gyi gtam”, In Nam mkha’i nor bu’i gsung rtsom phyogs bsgrigs. Beijing: Krung-go’i Bod kyi Shes-rig dPe-skrun-khang, pp. 233-493.

Lcags stag zhib gzhung 1989 [1830] Bod rang-skyong-ljongs Lo-rgyus yig-tshags-khang (eds.). Dga’ ldan pho drang pa’i chab ’bangs dbus gtsang dwags kong rong khag bcas kyi lcags stag zhib gzhung dam ’byar ma’i zhal bshus dge. Xining: Krung-go Bod kyi Shes-rig dPe-skrun-khang.

Lde’u jo sras 1987 lDe’u Jo-sras (13th cent.). Chos byung chen mo bstan pa’i rgyal mtshan lde’u jo sras kyis mdzad pa. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang.

Lo rgyus N.d. [1680s or later] Tibetan text in Aris 1986: 88-115 (see Works in Other Languages).

Mda’ tshang 2011 Zhoutai & Luosang Lingzhi Duojie (eds.). Mdo smad mda’ tshang yul gyi gna’ dpa phyogs bsdus mthong ba don ldan. Guzangwen Benjiao Wenxian. Gansu Dangchang Zangzu Jiacang. Lanzhou: Gansu Wenhua Chubanshe, vols. 1-30.

Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel N.d. Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel lha mchod rgyas pa. Transcription and manuscript facsimile of anonymous Tibetan text in Karmay and Nagano 2002: 1-33 (see Works in Other Languages).

Mkhas pa lde’u 1987 mKhas-pa lDe’u (13th cent.). Mkhas pa lde’us mdzad pa’i rgya bod kyi chos ’byung rgyas pa. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang (Gangs can rigs mdzod, 3).

Mkhas pa’i dga’ ston 1986 dPa’-bo II gTsug-lag Phreng-ba (1504-1566). Chos ’byung mkhas pa’i dga’ ston, 2 vols. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Mon gyi Nang-bstan Rig-gzhung ’Dzin-skyong Tshogs-pa 2002 Sbas yul skyid mo ljongs kyi chos ’byung bzhugs so. Bomdi La: Buddhist Culture Preservation Society.

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Nor-bsam, et al. 1999 Am stod sogs a mdo rdzong khongs kyi de sngon shog kha shas kyi lo rgyus thor bu dang byung myong ba‘i don rkyen ‘ga’ zhig skor. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang.

Nyang ral chos ’byung 1988 Nyang Nyi-ma ’Od-zer (1124-1192?). Chos ’byung me tog snying po sbrang rtsi’i bcud. Beijing: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang (Gangs can rigs mdzod, 5).

OTDO Old Tibetan Documents Online hosted at both https://otdo.aa-ken.jp and http://otdo.aa.tufs.ac.jp by the Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, Tokyo, Japan. I used this database to cite Old Tibetan documents in conjunction with the parallel facsimiles and editions in these works: Yoshiro Imaeda, et al. (eds.). 2007. Tibetan Documents from Dunhuang kept at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France and The British Library. Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies (Old Tibetan Documents Online Monograph Series, 1); Spanien & Imaeda 1978-1979 (see Works in Other Languages); Kazushi Iwao, et al. 2009. Old Tibetan Inscriptions. Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies (Old Tibetan Documents Online Monograph Series, 2); Richardson 1985 (see Works in Other Languages).

Padma Gling-pa (1450-1521) N.d. Bum thang gter ston padma gling pa’i rnam thar ’od zer kun mdzes nor bu’i phreng ba zhes bya ba skal ldan spro ba skye ba’i tshul du bris pa. Kun-bzang Brag Par-ma xylographic edition in 236 fols. r/v, private library, Bumthang Ura, courtsey of The Centre for Bhutan Studies, Thimphu.

Rab brtan 1987 ’Jigs-med Grags-pa (15th cent.). Rab brtan kun bzang ’phags kyi rnam thar. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang.

rDo-rje rGyal-mtshan 2011 Skor phug sgrub kyi lo rgyus gser gyi thigs pa’i yang snying. Thimphu: The Centre for Bhutan Studies.

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rDzong-kha Gong-’phel dBang-’dzin

Sa-skya bSod-nams rGyal-mtshan

2005 Rdzong kha tshig mdzod. Thimphu: rDzong-kha Gong-’phel dBang’dzin, Shes-rig lhan-khag.

1981 [1368] Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Rgya bod yig tshang

Sangs-rgyas Don-grub

1985 dPal-’byor bZang-po (15th cent.). Rgya bod yig tshang chen mo. Chengdu: Si-khron Mi-rigs dPe-skrun-khang.

Rgyal rigs

2011 “Bon mchod lugs kyi gtam phreng”, in Khenpo Phuntshok Tashi, Singye Samdrup and Ariana Maki (eds.), ’Brug gi dngos med lam gsol / zhib ’tshol go rim drug pa /. sPa-ro: ’Brug-rgyal Yongs-’grems ston-khang, pp. 285-292.

1688 Tibetan text edition in Aris 1986: 12-77 (see Works in Other Languages).

Sba ga byang

Rgyal rigs 2

N.d. Anonymous. Sba ga byang gi gnas yig dang gnas bshad kyi dpe cha bzhugs so. Modern offset edition in loose folio form, twenty-five folios r/v.

1988 [1688 or later] lHa-btsun Ngag-dbang Phun-tshogs and Phyi-tshang Mong-khar gyi rGyal-po. Rje ‘bangs rnams kyi rigs rus kyi ‘byung khungs gsal ba’i sgron me. In Bod kyi lo rgyus rig gnas dpyad gzhi’i rgyu cha bdams bsgrigs, vol. 10. (Eds.) Bod rang-skyong-ljongs srid-gros rig-gnas lo-rgyus dpyadgzhi’i rgyu-cha zhib-’jug u-yon lhan-khang. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPe-skrunkhang, pp. 87-130.

Rgyal rigs 3 1984 [1688 or later] bKra-shis-sgang-pa bsTan-’dzin rDo-rje. Bod rje mnga’ bdag khri ral pa can gyi sku mched lha sras gtsang ma’i gdung brgyud ’phel rabs dang ’bangs kyi mi rabs mched khungs lo rgyus gsal ba’i sgron me. Printed booklet of 102 handwritten pages, being the “Dorje (1984)” in Ardussi 2007a: 4 (see Works in Other Languages). No place of publication or publisher, but apparently issued by the National Library of Bhutan, Thimphu.

Rgyal rong 2009 bTsan-lha Ngag-dbang Tshul-khrims, eds. M. Prins, Yasuhiko Nagano. A Lexicon of the rGyalrong bTsanlha Dialect. rGyalrong-ChineseTibetan-English. Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology (Bon Studies 12, Senri Ethnological Reports, 79).

Rgyud bzhi 2006 g.Yu-thog Yon-tan mGon-po. Bdud rtsi snying po yan lag brgyad pa gsang ba man ngag gi rgyud ces bya ba bzhugs so. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang.

Rlangs 1986 Byang-chub rGyal-mtshan (1302–1364). Rlangs kyi po ti bse ru rgyas pa. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmangs dPe-skrun-khang (Gangs can rig mdzod, 1).

Rta wang bca’ yig 1699 Phyogs-rgyas Ngag-dbang rNam-rgyal. Rta wang dga’ ldan rnam rgyal lha rtse’i bca’ yig mdor bsdus. Hand copy of a handwrittten cursive scroll, transcribed at rTa-dbang, February 1979. From the private collection of Michael Aris, Oxford University.

Shar-pa’i bla-ma Sangs-rgyas bsTan-’dzin & A.W. Macdonald 1971 Documents pour l’Étude de la religion et de l’organisation sociale des Sherpa, 1. Junbesi/Nanterre.

sKal-bzang Nor-bu 2004 Sngo sman gsal ba’i me long. Lhasa: Bod-ljongs Mi-dmang dPe-skrun-khang.

sMan-rams-pa Zla-ba 2005 Bod kyi gso rig sman ris gsal ba’i me long. Dharamsala: The Tibetan Medical & Astro. Institute.

sNgon-’dzin Ngag-dbang rGya-mtsho 2006 “Mdo smad lho rgyud du dar ba’i chab nag srid pa’i bon gyi cho ga spel mkhan lha bdag le’u la cung tsam dpyad pa,” Bon sgo, 19, pp. 22-35. (cf. Ngodzin Ngawang Gyatso 2016 in Works in Other Languages)

Tenpa Yungdrung, Per Kværne, Musashi Tachikawa & Yasuhiko Nagano 2006 Bonpo Thangkas from Khyungpo [in Tibetan language]. Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology (Bon Studies 10, Senri Ethnological Reports, 60).

Ye-shes ’Phrin-las 1983 “Mon yul gyi gzhi rtsa’i gnas tshul”, in Bod kyi rig gnas lo rgyus rgyu cha bdams bsgrigs, vol. 2. (eds.) Bod rang-skyong-ljongs srid-gros lo-rgyus rig-gnas dpyad-gzhi’i rgyu-cha u-yon lhan-khang. Beijing: Mi-rigs dPeskrun-khang, pp. 132-163.

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Landscape. New Delhi: D.K. Printworld, pp. 435-451. “Tibet and the Thulung Rai: Towards a Comparative Mythology of the Bodic Speakers”, in M. Aris and Aung San Suu Kyi (eds.), Tibetan Studies in Honour of Hugh Richardson. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, pp. 1-8. Studies in the myth and oral traditions of the Thulung Rai of East Nepal. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Oxford. “The Ritual Journey. A Pattern underlying certain Nepalese Rituals”, in C. von Fürer-Haimendorf (ed.), The Anthropology of Nepal. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, pp. 6-22.

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“Introduction”, in Aris, M. Sources for the History of Bhutan. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass (First Indian edition), pp. v-xx. “A Preliminary Investigation of Bhutanese Castle Ruins and Caves Associated with Lha sras Gtsang ma”, in J.A. Ardussi and F. Pommaret (eds.), Bhutan. Traditions and Changes. Leiden: Brill (Brill’s Tibetan Studies Library, 10/5), pp. 5-25. “Notes on the Rgyal Rigs of Ngawang and the Clan History of Eastern Bhutan and Shar Mon”, in R. Prats (ed.), The Pandita & the Siddha. Dharamsala: Amnye Machen Institute, pp. 1-11. “The Gdung Lineages of Central and Eastern Bhutan - A Reappraisal of their Origin, Based on Literary Sources”, in Karma Ura and Sonam Kinga (eds.), The Spider and the Piglet. Thimphu: Centre for Bhutan Studies, pp. 60-72. “Observations on the Political Organisation of Western Bhutan in the 14th Century, as Revealed in Records of the ’Ba ra ba Sect”, in J. Ardussi and H. Blezer (eds.), Impressions of Bhutan and Tibetan Art. Tibetan Studies III. Leiden: Brill (Brill’s Tibetan Studies Library, 2/3), pp. 5-22. Bhutan Before the British. A historical study. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, National University of Australia.

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“Population and Governance in mid-18th Century Bhutan, as Revealed in the Enthronement Record of Thugs-sprul ’Jigs med grags pa I (1725-1761)”, Journal of Bhutan Studies, 2: 2, pp. 36-78.

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’Jigs-med-gling-pa’s “Discourse on India” of 1789. A critical Edition and Annotated Translation of the lHo-phyogs rgya-gar-gyi gtam brtag-pa brgyad-kyi me-long. Tokyo: The International Institute for Buddhist studies (Studia Philologica Buddhica Occasional Papers Series, IX). The Raven Crown. The Origins of Buddhist Monarchy in Bhutan. London: Serindia Publications. Hidden Treasures and Secret Lives. A Study of Pemalingpa (14501521) and the Sixth Dalai Lama (1683-1706). Shimla & Delhi: Indian Institute of Advanced Study & Motilal Banarsidass. “New Light on an Old Clan of Bhutan: The sMyos-rabs of Bla-ma gSang-snags”, in H. Uebach and Jampa L. Panglung (eds.), Tibetan Studies. München: Kommission für Zentralasiatische Studien Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften (Studia Tibetica, Band 2), pp. 15-24. Sources for the History of Bhutan. Wien (Wiener Studien zur Tibetologie und Buddhismuskunde, Heft 14). “Notes on the History of the Mon-yul Corridor”, in M. Aris and Aung San Suu Kyi (eds.), Tibetan Studies in Honour of Hugh Richardson. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, pp. 9-20. Bhutan. The Early History of a Himalayan Kingdom. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. “‘The Admonition of the Thunderbolt Cannon-Ball’ and Its Place in the Bhutanese New Year Festival”, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 39: 3, pp. 601-635.

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U502 NG 46-2 1955

78 M/15 1972

Assam, Bhutan (Kameng Frontier Division, Tongsa Province). Sheet 78 M/15, Second Edition. Scale 1:50,000. Surveyor General of India,

Towang. Series U502, sheet NG 46-2, Edition 1-AMS. Scale 1:250,000. Washington, D.C.: Army Map Service (PV), Corps of Engineers, U.S. Army.

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U502 NG 46-6 1955

Gauhāti. Series U502, sheet NG 46-2, Edition 2-AMS. Scale 1:250,000. Washington, D.C.: Army Map Service (PV), Corps of Engineers, U.S. Army.

Ward & Cawdor 1926 1926

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Map showing the Plane-table and Compass Traverse by F. Kingdon Ward and Earl Cawdor in South-Eastern Tibet. Scale 1:1,000,000. London: Royal Geographical Society. Published in F. Kingdon Ward. 1926. “Explorations in South-Eastern Tibet”, The Geographical Journal, 67:2, p.192.

List of Illustrations and Picture Credits

All photographs, figures and maps appearing throughout this book are those of the author unless otherwise credited in the following list.

Volume I Plates Marimthung memorial mani wall, Dirang Busti, West Kameng, 2010. 2. A ’brang rgyas zhal dkar array upon a stone slab altar in a sacred grove for a verbal ritual journey to invite the lha, Yewang, West Kameng, 2011. 3. A ’brang rgyas zhal dkar array in wooden troughs at the hearth place of a hereditary ritual sponsor’s house during a bon shaman’s nocturnal verbal ritual journey to the sky, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 4. Bon shaman wearing a woollen turban and offering a conical cake of ‘life cheese’ (tshe frum) with a flower as a pure ‘seat’ for the lha, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, north-east Bhutan, 2012. 5. Pyramidal, four-faceted bshos bu ritual cakes in cane baskets for use in ’brang rgyas zhal dkar arrays, Yewang, 2011. 6. Pyramidal ritual cakes for the collective mobile vitality of specific descent lineages, with birds representing ancestral lha and new vitality descending from the sky world, Yewang, 2011. 7. Ritual arrow topped with butter cone as temporary residence for a ritual specialist’s vital force during a rite, far eastern Bhutan, 2010. Source: Courtesy of Mona Schrempf, Saarbrücken. 8. Pointed dampa ritual cakes upon an altar as offering to Srid-pa’i lha, Nyimshong, 2014. 9. Model of a log ladder for Srid-pa’i lha in a house attic, with eleven notched steps and the twelfth and thirteenth steps represented by the two ends, Khoma Valley, 2012. 10. Naxi dtô-mbà pictographs of the notched, juniper wood ladder that connects Ssú life gods with heaven, and the messenger bat of the gods, Dzî-boâ-p’èr, who accomplishes that, on the title page of a Szî chúng bpò’ manuscript. Source: Original held at

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the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection D-46 (= Rock no. 1971). Local interpretation of Gurzhe holding the life vase and pennant as central figure on a bon shaman’s painted scroll, north-east Bhutan, 2012. The ‘elder brother’ (achi) Yang-chung deity worshipped at both Lawa in Khoma and Ganzur in Kurtö, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, north-east Bhutan, 2012. The ‘elder sister’ (abu) Yum-gsum deities worshipped at Lawa in Khoma, with two (left and centre) wearing the kushung, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, north-east Bhutan, 2012. Characteristic features of Microbats. Source: “Chiroptera” from Ernst Haeckel. 1904. Kunstformen der Natur. Leipzig/Wien: Verl. des Bibliogr. Inst. Characteristic features of Megabats. Source: “Kalong, Pteropus celaeno Herm. 1/5 natürlicher Größe” from Alfred Edmund Brehms. 1924. Brehms Tierleben. Berlin: Voegels. Naxi pictograph of the white messenger bat, Hà-yî-dzî-boâp’èr, with trunk-like nose depicted speaking in a Szî chúng bpò’ manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection D-36 (= Rock no. 1948). Naxi pictograph of the messenger bat, Dzî-boâ-p’èr, with trunklike nose in a Szî chúng bpò’ manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection D-46 (= Rock no. 1971). Two Naxi miniature paintings of the messenger bat draped with a white silk scarf on ritual cards used for the Szî chúng bpò’ or ‘Ceremony to Reconnect Lost Longevity’. Source: Collection of Dr. John M. Lundquist. Naxi miniature painting of messenger bat flying to the sky, mounted upon the female Garuda, in a Bpò’ p’à gkó shù manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection I-3 (= Rock no. 1624).

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20.

Naxi pictograph of messenger bat and female Garuda meeting the female deity P’èr-ndzî-ssâw-mâ’ in a Naxi Bpò’ p’à gkó shù manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection I-3 (= Rock no. 1624). 21. An insect-like Naxi pictograph (see central column) used by dtômbà to represent the mobile ‘soul’ (ò), from a Ssû g`v ch’óu g`v ddû mùn manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection I-1 (= Rock no. 1321). 22. Bon shamans wearing the cape-like plapé or plakar jacket featuring triangular gusset ‘wings’, embroidered ‘feet’, and appliqué ‘body’ representing the bat, Lawa, 2012. 23. Ritual specialist performing in the flared, cape-like plapé or plakar jacket, Lawa, 2012. 24. Cloak of a bon po depicting the messenger bat’s vertical journey, Yewang, 2011. 25. Detail depicting the messenger bat’s vertical journey on the cloak of the bon po, Yewang, 2011. 26. Mon-yul Corridor man wearing a goral skin pagtsa tunic, West Kameng, Arunachal Pradesh, 2009. 27. sPo-bo man wearing a wild goat or monkey skin tunic, Tibet, 19201921 (Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, detail of acc. no. 1998.285.335). 28. Naxi men of the Yangtze loop region north of Lijiang wearing goatskin tunics, Yunnan, 1930s. Source: Rock 1963: plate XXII. 29. Representation of the Ephedra (mtshe ldum) plant, from a Tibetan language materia medica text supplemented with Mongol, Manchu and Chinese names. Source: ʼJam-dpal rdo-rje 1971: 155. 30. Mra nyibu shaman wearing chaybo headgear, with kyokam mayab feather wand across his right shoulder, Orak, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007. 31. Mra nyibu shaman wearing chaybo headgear with tabiyou ritual staff, Orak, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007. 32. Mra nyibu shaman placing his tabiyou ritual staff at the mouth of a freshly sacrificed mithun bull, Orak, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007. 33. The ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo holding an Ephedra stalk in his right hand and srog mkhar arrow in his left, illustrated bon shaman manuscript (inscription: g.yas phyogs na ston pa shen rab), north-east Bhutan, 2012. 34. Manifestation body of gShen-rab Mi-bo holding a phyag shing sceptre in his right hand, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig (inscription: gshen rab sprul sku). Source: vol. 1, fol. 43b of the Gzer myig manuscript Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Oritent-Abteilung. 35. Illustration of the gnyan bon Thang-thang Khrol-ba, from a mDa’-tshang manuscript, Gansu, China. Source: mDa’ tshang, vol. 21, p. 238. 36. Ata Leyki wearing a woollen tsitpa shamo hat, upper Sangti valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2010. 37. Bro pa headgear based upon the tsitpa shamo, Thempang, Arunachal Pradesh, 2011.

450

Bon po wearing a thekar turban, Changmadung, eastern Bhutan, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 39. Bon po wearing a tricolour thekar turban, Nyimshong, eastern central Bhutan, 2014. 40. Manifestation body of sTon pa gShen-rab, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig (inscription: ston pa gshen rab sprul pa’i sku). Source: vol. 1, fol. 93a of the Gzer myig manuscript Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Oritent-Abteilung. 41. Rigzin wearing the layperson’s zhogar turban from the Khoma valley, 2012. Source: Courtesy of Dorji Gyaltsen, Thimphu. 42. Dried zhogar turban and other accoutrements of a pchami shaman, Shawa village, Kurtö, 2012. 43. Girls serving as pla’i lcam wearing simple zhogar of Artemisia, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 44. Idu Mishmi igu shaman wearing white cowrie shell headgear, Anini, upper Dibang valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007. 45. Bon po at the Pla festival wearing jari hats, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 46. Painted scroll used for the jari hats of the Lhau bon po, Tawang, 2011. 47. The shogar turban worn by the bon po of Hoongla, Tawang, 2012. 48. Offerings being made directly on top of the shogar hat worn by the bon po of Hoongla, Tawang, ca. 2005. Source: Courtesy of Lama Tashi, Tawang. 49. Offerings on top of the shogar hat worn by the bon po of Hoongla, Tawang, ca. 2005. Source: Courtesy of Lama Tashi, Tawang. 50. Bugun man wearing the muwai-reguwai hat, West Kameng, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 51. Young Aka men wearing the musarga hat, West Kameng, 1968. Source: Directorate of Information, Public Relations and Printing, Government of Arunachal Pradesh. 52. Aka mugou ritual specialist wearing the musarga hat, West Kameng, 1959. Source: Directorate of Information, Public Relations and Printing, Government of Arunachal Pradesh. 53. Nyibu shaman with bird feather headdress, upper Subansiri River, Bya-smad, southern Tibet, 1936. Source: Ludlow and Sherriff 1937: plate 1. 54. Nyibu shaman with bird feather headdress, Ngoju, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2004. 55. Dyed yak hair tufts worn at the rear of the Asha hat of a drung ritual specialist, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 56. Dyed yak hair tufts hanging from the headpiece of an Idu Mishmi igu shaman, Anini, upper Dibang valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007. 57. Dyed goat hair tassels worn by bro pa performers during a Lhasöshe festival, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 58. Ritual specialist performing rites with a hand drum, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig. Source: vol. 2, fol. 288b of the Gzer myig manuscript Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Oritent-Abteilung. 59. Ritual specialists using flat bells and horn during the Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 38.

List of I llustr ations a nd Pictur e Cr edits

Bon shaman receiving donations in a flat bell during the Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 61. Bells attached to a lha shing tree in front of a stone slab altar, Yewang, Dirang, 2011. 62. Ritual horn with silver trim and a yak hair tuft, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 63. Horn blower carrying a ritual horn (um) as ritual specialists gather around a phallic pole, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 64. Ritual horn (r.) and box containing a bon shaman’s manuscripts (l.) tied to a beam on the attic level of the village temple, Ney, Kurtö, 2012. 65. Umpa and palopa ritual specialists conveying the lha down to the sacred grove using a ritual horn while singing and mimicking a horse, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 66. Male Pcha festival performers jumping anticlockwise around the ritual horn supported atop an erect, forked stick (r.) at the summit of the Risumtse hill between Shawa and Tabi, Kurtö, ca. 2000. Source: Courtesy of Trinley, Tabi village, Kurtö. 67. Ritual horn hanging from a forked stick next to a stone slab altar during a rite, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 68. Ritual specialists performing ablutions with spring water through a ritual horn immediately prior to donning their costumes, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 69. Serving liquor for rites through a ritual horn, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 70. Idu Mishmi tamro assistant to the igu shaman playing a yak horn during a brophee funerary rite, Anini, upper Dibang valley, Arunachal Pradesh, 2007. 71. A bon po’s ornamented gourd ladle (chong) at Kheng Bjoka, south-eastern Bhutan, 2012. Source: Courtesy of Dorji Gyaltsen, Thimphu. 72. Bon po performing lustrations with a blackened gourd ladle (chung nagpo), Phudung, upper Sangti valley, Dirang, 2009. 73. Square format bon shaman’s manuscript booklet, with horizontal, top margin stitched binding. Text of the messenger bat’s theft of fire narrative used in a Dakpa speaking community, Hoongla, Tawang, 2012. 74. First folio of a bon shaman’s manuscript booklet, with horizontal, top margin stitched binding, a cloth cover and repairs to damage. Text of a cosmographic prelude in a Na Lore (Na gzhung) manuscript used in a Dakpa speaking community, Lhau, Tawang, 2011. 75. Cover of a bon shaman’s manuscript booklet with horizontal, top margin stitched binding and a musk deer tooth clasp, Thempang, Dirang, 2010. 76. A bon shaman’s manuscripts resting temporarily upon a stone slab altar, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 77. A nyibu shaman-smith, Naba, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2005. 78. Ornamented pipe bowl made by a nyibu shaman-smith, Limeking, upper Subansiri River, Arunachal Pradesh, 2004. 79. Opening a deceased bon shaman’s patrimony stored since the 1990s, and containing manuscripts, a small bell, headgear, carved wooden 60.

moulds for impressing on dough, and wild animal bones used in healing rites, Tawang, 2011. 80. Small replica house (lower right) built to store a deceased bon shaman’s patrimony, north-east Bhutan, 2012. 81. Leather covered cane basket for storing a deceased shaman’s patrimony, north-east Bhutan, 2012. 82. A hereditary plami shaman chanting a rite from a manuscript and leading the actions of two sub-shamans, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 83. Notebook pages recording chants from a ritual text in Devanagari script, Namshu, Dirang, 2012. 84. Manuscript booklet folios written by a Kurtöp speaking bon shaman, recording the chant text of a verbal ritual journey, Shawa, Kurtö, 2012. 85. Manuscript booklet folios written by a Bumthap speaking bon shaman, recording the chant text of a verbal ritual journey, upper Tang valley, Bumthang, 2014. 86. Manuscript booklet folio written by a Henkha/Nyenkha speaking bon shaman, recording the origin narrative of the ritual tree trunk (CT Bon sdong rabs), Bemji, upper Mangde Chu valley, 2014. 87. Recto and verso sides of folio 42 from the bon shaman manuscript booklet Lhau 2, recording initial verses of an origin narrative, Lhau, Tawang, 2011. 88. Performance of the Spos rabs at the Khromagyen ritual ground, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 89. Bon shamans holding lha shing branches in front of a stone slab altar in the sacred grove while chanting an invitation rite, Yewang, Dirang, 2011. 90. Bon shaman attaching a ‘road’ (lam) cord of white wool between a lha shing tree and a stone slab altar in a sacred grove, Yewang, Dirang, 2011. 91. A lha’i gtor pole fashioned from a living tree trunk for the descent of ’O-de Gung-rgyal, with remains of a ritual cord (roop) of sheep’s wool, Bemji, upper Mangde Chu valley, central Bhutan, 2014. 92. A ritual connecting cord with attached ritual horn and bamboo basket on a lha shing tree, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 93. Divination using piles of first harvest grains, Rahung, West Kameng, 2011. 94. Pcha shrine for gangola sealed with a nine stone door, and a stone slab altar at the base of a pcha shing tree, Shawa, Kurtö, 2012. 95. Lawa village above the confluence of the Kuri Chu and Khoma Chu valleys, north-east Bhutan, 2014. 96. Stages of constructing and activating a palo (a.-d.) during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 97. A palopa holding the palo during a rite, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 98. Palopa performing with a palo bearing silk or brocade ribbons and cock feathers, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 99. Stages during the rite of planting bya ru feathers from a palo (a.-d.) during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 100. Bon shamans ‘jumping’ during a circular bro performance, Lawa, 2012. 101. A bon shaman (r.) directing a group of jumping lha’i bu in a circular formation, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 102. A group of lha’i bu jumping over a ‘lha rock’ during a Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012.

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103. Prepubescent pla’i lcam girls wearing premodern, red woollen kushung or leushingka tunics during a Pla offering rite, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 104. Overgrown house ruins at the site of old Tsango settlement, Khoma valley, 2012. 105. Costume and accoutrements of the Tsango lhami during the 2012 Lhamoche festival, Khoma valley. 106. Kalang divination results from Day One of Lhamoche, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 107. The seven bamboo canes of abu Ribumo erected behind the stone slab altar and phallic post at lower Kupilang, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 108. Offering chang phud on a temporary altar, Chagselang dongthan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 109. Offering chang phud to Namdorzhe using flower stalks at Tsumgung, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 110. Hand raising during farewelling sequence for Namdorzhe at Tsumgung, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 111. Bowing during farewelling sequence for Namdorzhe at Tsumgung, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 112. Chanting an ‘Explanation of the Phallus’ at Tsumgung. 113. The parallel lha and human lines for performing dialogues during the sGam-chen Pha-wang rite, Khomagyan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 114. The five khyem Ama dispensing popped grain offerings, Khomagyan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 115. Stages of opposite circling around the Srid-pa’i lha boulder by lha and human lines of performers during the sGam-chen Pha-wang rite, Khomagyan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 116. Stone stela as site of the Me long sman sel rite at Melong Mensey dongthan, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 117. The sifu thanksgiving rite at Namsalang, with sNyong La peak in the background, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 118. A lha’i bu troop practising jumping under the direction of the lhami at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 119. Fabricating the Iyetang Pentang vegetal rope, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 120. Iyetang Pentang movement sequence development (a.-d.) at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 121. Uplifting movement by ritual specialists with a vegetal rope during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 122. Spiral movement sequence development by ritual specialists with a vegetal rope (a.-d.) during a Pla festival, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 123. Plajo movement sequence development (a.-e.) at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 124. Ritual specialists with sershing sticks retreating from Gurzhe’s farewell while making a vitality harvesting gesture with their right hands and flat bells at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 125. Collecting a sershing branch to take home at Lhazangmey, old Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 126. Site of the lha brang shrine for the Aheylha festival, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin.

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Lha brang shrine during a nocturnal rite, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 128. Lha brang shrine during a nocturnal rite, Nyimshong, Jamkhar Chu valley, 2014. 129. Dampai torma ritual cakes offered to Srid-pa’i lha, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 130. Bon po preparing flower thrones for the Srid-pa’i lha, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 131. Carrying the bon po’s portable altar for Aheylha, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 132. The ‘sponsor mothers’ respectfully addressing the deities before the lha brang, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 133. Talismanic stones representing cattle tethered to the altar with ropes of plaited straw, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 134. Talismanic stones representing cattle tethered to the altar with strings, Nyimshong, Jamkhar Chu valley, 2014. 135. Ritual support for Srid-pa’i lha based upon a pumpkin, Nyimshong, Jamkhar valley, 2014. 136. Anticipating the fall of a divination leaf (l.), and receiving a negative result (r.), Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 137. Preparing tshogs for nawan bokpey offerings, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 138. Tshogs for nawan bokpey offered upon a hand mill (thek), Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 139. Tshogs for nawan bokpey offered upon a notched attic ladder (litang), Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 140. A lha’i bu troop dressed in women’s clothing with one of their female ‘style advisors’, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 141. Male bro performers dressed as women encircling the bon po, Changmadung, Kholong Chu valley, 2011. Source: Courtesy of Mareike Wulff, Berlin. 142. La-chong upon his white-faced mithun mount, illustrated bon shaman manuscript, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 143. Conical ritual cake of tshe frum or ‘life cheese’ placed within its protective tsheshomba basket upon the cooked rice offering, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 144. Conical ritual cake of tshe frum or ‘life cheese’ mounted atop a forked prop stick on the main altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 145. The white-faced mithun for the La-chong lha g.yag ransom, fed by a tsangmi outside the lama lhabrang, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 146. Dice divination while consulting the Bro rabs manuscript to select a new ransom animal, balcony of the lama lhabrang, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

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147. Making semchen naka ransom animals within a tsheshomba lhabrang house, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 148. Two versions of bro pa headgear with five-pointed rigs lnga devices and bya ru feathers mounted on top, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 149. Tsangmi performing offerings at the Tangsö’i sa lhabum shrine, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 150. Tsheshomba groups processing to the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 151. Tsheshomba procession with decorated offering baskets arriving at the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 152. Senior tsheshomba males being served liquor in the front row of the seating area below the stone slab altars, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 153. Preparing ransom items for the lower altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 154. Semchen naka or ‘animal species’ ransom items mounted on sticks for offering, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 155. Tsheshomba tshogs offerings hanging from the upper altar, with the white, conical ritual cake of ‘life cheese’ upon a prop stick at top centre, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 156. Attaching ‘flag trees’ (dar shing) for the top of the altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 157. Laying out the muitang altar, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 158. The Khamsong prahme during the sheep offering for ata Jowodi, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 159. Bro pa and bro mo performing bro in front of muitang altars during the offering chants, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 160. Bro pa in costume with jewellery at the Pla festival, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 161. Bro mo costume items for Bapu Lhasöshe, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 162. Statue of Tshe-dbang lHa-mo, mother of the Sixth Dalai Lama, Kushangnang, Berkhar village, Tawang, late 1970s. Source: Sarkar 1980: plate 23.II. 163. Women’s Srid-pa’i lha festival costume with the fillet headpiece and red woollen kushung or leushingka tunic, Shawa village, Kurtö, 2012. 164. Bugun woman wearing the bothong fillet, West Kameng, 1968. Source: Directorate of Information, Public Relations and Printing, Government of Arunachal Pradesh. 165. Changnyerpa selecting a reluctant zi candidate following the communal feast at the Lhasö’i sa festival ground, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 166. Tsheshomba lhabrang flags at the Rizang Thangka, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 167. Bearers struggling to carry the tiny norsha fish to the zi apa lhabrang, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 168. Zi ‘wife’ feeding the wedding meal to her new tsangmi ‘husband’ using a wooden spoon carved with sexual organs, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 169. Male and female genitalia symbols carved on wooden spoons for the mock marriage, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011.

Participants photographing performing bro pa and bro mo using mobile phones during Bapu Lhasöshe, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 171. Bon po Lobsang (r.) and bon po Karma Gombo (m.) together during Pla with the long-serving gaonbura of Lhau tsho, Pema Gombo (l.), Lhau, Tawang, April 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 172. Lhau bon po Lobsang (l.) and bon po Karma Gombo (r.) holding ritual bells, Tawang region ca. mid 1970s. Source: Nanda 1982: plate opp. p. 36. 173. The bro pa’i dpon (centre l.) and three bro pa (r.) training during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von FürerHaimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 174. A line of beydungpa behind the bro pa at Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 175. Beydungpa posing with Indian guests during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, early 1990s. Source: Courtesy of the late Pema Gombo, Lhau, Tawang. 176. Tepa horsemen being led past the pla zur banner at the Pla festival ground while performing a counter clockwise circumambulation, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von FürerHaimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 177. Local gaonbura riding horses during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, mid- to late-1990s. Source: Courtesy of Tashi Tsering, Khamba kachung, Lhau, Tawang. 178. Tepa horsemen wearing the flat woollen beret during the Pla festival, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 179. Premodern Tibetan official wearing the ’bog tho hat, Lhasa, Tibet, 1930s. Source: O’Connor 1937: 102. 180. The three ancestral Pla or pho lha titled deities worshipped during Pla, on painted panels from the scroll forming the jari (bya ru) hat of the Lhau bon po, Tawang, 2011. 181. Pla participants socialising around the tshogs seet stones at the upper Pla leng, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 182. Members of the incumbent pla zur of Nangkor kachung wearing khapu feathers as bya ru upon their heads during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 183. Lhau village women performing folk dance and songs to entertain visitors inside a shamiana tent during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 184. Lhau gaonbura Pema Gombu (l.) and invited Indian guests posing with beydungpa during Pla, Lhau, Tawang, early 1990s. Source: Courtesy of the late Pema Gombo, Lhau, Tawang. 185. Head of a gasha (Muntiacus spp.) being stored prior to placement within a shalung structure, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2009. 170.

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186. The bon po (r.) and his ritual assistant (l.) seated in front of the shalung structure, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2010. 187. ‘Precious decorations’ on the upper part of the shalung structure, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2010. 188. A bhelaghar structure for use during the Bhogali Bihu festival, Gauhati area, Assam, 2012. Source: Photograph Meji_at_bharalu. JPG courtesy of Subhrajit at Assamese Wikipedia [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)]. 189. Swollen stem sections of Vaccinium serratum used to represent the nawan wild pig during Srid-pa’i lha rites, growing in the lower Khoma Chu valley, 2014. 190. Phallus wearing ritual performer mimicking a trapped bear at the base of the ‘soul spider’ tree during a Chiksaybu festival, Rahung, West Kameng, 2011. 191. Phallus wearing mashee performer while possessed during a Chiksaybu festival, Rahung, West Kameng, 2011.

20. 21. 22.

Maps 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Figures

6.

1. 2.

7.

Sibling ancestral deities of Kurtö and Khoma. Genealogy of gNya’-khri bTsan-po and his maternal cousins according to the Mkhas pa lde’u redaction, compared with Srid-pa’i lha cult narratives. 3. The mbì-boâ-p’èr section of the múen-t’ù ritual staff of a Naxi dtômbà. Source: Rock 1955: 188, fig. 1. 4. Comparison of gShen-rab Mi-bo descriptions in a Srid-pa’i lha cult text and the dGa’-thang Byol rabs. 5. Sample of written and chanted texts for the Spos rabs of Lawa. 6. Sample of written and chanted texts for the Khrus rabs of Changmadung. 7. Comparison of text passages on Ephedra in Srid-pa’i lha cult and Old Tibetan texts. 8. An upstream, northward itinerary following the Kuri Chu river valley from Shawa village in Kurtö to the Tap La lift-off point in lHo-brag. Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus. 9. Alternative terrestrial itineraries for lha descent used by ceremonial groups at Yewang. 10. Plan of festival staging sites at old Tsango. 11. Main ritual texts for Lhamoche festivals at Tsango. 12. Ascending itinerary of the Lha zhu rabs at Tsango. Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus. 13. Main ritual texts for Aheylha festivals at Changmadung 14. Ascending itinerary of the Changmadung bon po’s ritual journey. Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus. 15. Clans and their relations at Thempang. 16. Residence locations of clans and pseudo-clans in Thempang village. 17. Main ritual texts for Lhasöshe festivals at Thempang. 18. Plan of sites for the Bapu Lhasöshe festival at Thempang. 19. Plan of altars, offerings and seating arrangements at the Lhasö’i sa festival ground during the Thempang Lhasöshe festival of 2011.

454

Informant’s impression of the feather-covered mento palo ‘hat’ worn by the bau or palo who performed during the Pla at Lhau. Wild animal offerings by early clan ancestors. Concepts, orientations, reference points and actors in the Srid-pa’i lha ritual cosmos.

Known sites of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities as of December 2013. Primary spoken languages of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. Srid-pa’i lha worship communities where versions of sGam-chen Pha-wang narratives are known to occur. Known locations of messenger and trickster bat narratives along the extended eastern Himalayas. Srid-pa’i lha worship communities using the Sel rabs featuring Yangal Gyim-kong in relation to southernmost Central Tibet. Locations of main and secondary research sites for Srid-pa’i lha festivals. Locations of additional research sites related to rites for hunting and wild animals.

Volume II Plates 192. Woollen mudag cords running uphill from a sky burial platform, Yushu, eastern Tibet, 2014. Source: Courtesy of Monia Chies, Lecco. 193. Opposite folio sides of the same section of the continuous, folded manuscript, with intact fourfold folio series from the Ste’u text (l.), and from the Sha slungs text (r.). Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 194. Folio Ca-1v from the Ste’u text depicting a tree-like ste’u with small birds. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 195. Folio Na-1v from the Ste’u text depicting a tree-like ste’u with small birds and wild animals. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 196. Folio Ca-2v from the Ste’u text depicting a lhe’u mgon rje mounted upon a falcon. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 197. Folio Pa-3v (left frame) from the Ste’u text depicting the everlasting turquoise juniper ste’u, with continuous inscription on the top of the folio Pa-4v (right frame). Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 198. Folio Nga-4v from the Ste’u text depicting a small awning sbre’u with a braided/plaited latticework form. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna.

List of I llustr ations a nd Pictur e Cr edits

Folio Cha-4v from the Ste’u text depicting a small awning sbre’u with a braided/plaited latticework form. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 200. Folio Ja-3v (upper frame) from the Ste’u text depicting a trio of ‘son’ protectors with a tree for the ‘ste’u of the floating intermediate space’, and folio Ja-4v (lower frame) depicting rTsang ‘offspring’ sNying-khar and rTsang ‘sister’ Si-le-ma. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 201. Folio Ca-1r from the Sha slungs text, with inscription continued on folio Ca-2r above painting (see pl. 202). Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 202. Folio Ca-2r from the Sha slungs text, with final lines of inscription for folio Ca-1r at top. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 203. Folio Cha-1r from the Sha slungs text, with inscription continued on folio Cha-2r above painting (see pl. 204). Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 204. Folio Cha-2r from the Sha slungs text, with final lines of inscription for folio Cha-1r at top. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 205. Folio Pa-3r from the Sha slungs text depicting marmot (l.) and badger (r.). Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 206. Folio Cha-4r from the Sha slungs text depicting a protector of wild herbivores, or perhaps the lha ’O[d]-de Gung-rgyal. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 207. Altar arrangement for vertical dispatch of ancestral deities up through the levels of the sky and closure of their path during a Lhamoche festival, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 208. The plah simulacrum of the deceased covered in white cloth used during Gurung/Tamu death rites. Source: Pignède 1993 [1966]: plate XXVI 51. 209. Apical wooden ornaments on pine tree saplings used for postmortem memorial rites, eastern Bhutan, 2014. 210. Tree-like ste’u on folio Cha-1v of the Ste’u manuscript. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 211. Contents of a Dakpa speaking propkhen’s sacred bundle used for exorcism and healing, Gamri Chu valley, Tashigang District, 2010. 212. Preparing fire flares to drive negative spirits from domestic houses, Jangphu, far eastern Bhutan, 2010. 213. A gidu performer during a Srid-pa’i lha festival, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2010. 214. Small paper flags with notched margins mounted on bamboo sticks for Srid-pa’i lha worship in a sacred grove, Phudung, upper Sangti valley, West Kameng, 2010. 215. Small paper flag with notched margins mounted atop a lha shing branch for Srid-pa’i lha worship in a sacred grove, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 216. A bon shaman and other ritual specialists chanting a Sel rabs narrative at a simple stone shrine with natural rock stela , Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 217. Sacred white rock stela erected on a Qiang rooftop shrine of simple stone, western Sichuan, 1920s. Source: Torrance 1932: 18-19. 199.

The white rock associated with Gurzhe beneath a pcha shing tree at Shawa, Kurtö, 2012. 219. Ersu white rock (ndzo) shrine in the wall of a field, Lajigu, Yuexi County, western Sichuan, early 2000s. Source: Zhang 2013: 11, picture 1.2. 220. A wayside shrine with offerings of fresh foliage placed against a triangular white rock, Bumdeling, north-east Bhutan, 2014. 221. A triangular, white Qiang cult rock on a rooftop shrine, Lung-ch’ichai, western Sichuan, ca. early 1940s. Source: Graham 1958: pl. 13 and caption. 222. David Crockett Graham’s photograph of a Qiang house roof “with five shrines, one for each of the five great gods”, and with each featuring a sacred white stone, western Sichuan, ca. early 1940s. Source: Graham 1958: pl. 13 and caption. 223. Roof of a Qiang house with agricultural shed topped by a shrine (above swastika symbol) and five white rocks for the five major deities of the roof, Danba, western Sichuan, 1992. 224. Ritual shed for a bon shaman’s equipment at the centre of one gable end of the attic-cum-roof space, Shawa, Kurtö, 2012. 225. Ritual actors performing a rite, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig. Source: vol. 2, fol. 288b of the Gzer myig manuscript Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Oritent-Abteilung. 226. Ritual actor performing a rite, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig (detail from pl. 225). Source: vol. 2, fol. 288b of the Gzer myig manuscript Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Oritent-Abteilung. 227. Ritual actor performing a rite, image redrawn from the manuscript Gzer myig by Helmut Hoffmann. Source: Hoffmann 1950: Tafel 10. 228. Naxi manuscript illustration of a dtô-mbà with bâ-k’ô hat, feather and flat bell. Source: Dongba wenhua yishu: 74. 229. A lhami wearing the Asha hat with rigs lnga crown mounted above, Tsango, Khoma valley, 2012. 230. Bro pa wearing wide-brimmed woollen headgear during a Pla festival, Lhau, Tawang, early 1990s. Source: Courtesy of the late Pema Gombo, Lhau, Tawang. 231. A Nuosu bimo ritual specialist wearing a broad-brimmed felt hat, Ninglang region, northwest Yunnan, 1957. Source: Winnington 1961: plate opp. p. 81. 232. Naxi dtô-mbà wearing the há d’â felt hat, from a manuscript of the Shí lô n´v death rites for a deceased dtô-mbà. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection A-8 (= Rock no. 905). 233. Male ritual actor wearing a broad-brimmed hat with central device, manuscript Gzer myig (detail from pl. 225). Source: vol. 2, fol. 288b, of the Gzer myig manuscript Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Oritent-Abteilung. 234. Monkey skin jar tä hat-cum-headdress worn by a Qiang shüpi shaman, Qiangfeng, Min River basin, western Sichuan, 1998. Source: Courtesy of Michael Oppitz, Berlin. 235. Rear of jar tä monkey skin hat-cum-headdress worn by a Qiang shüpi shaman, Qiangfeng, Min River basin, western Sichuan, 1998. Source: Courtesy of Michael Oppitz, Berlin. 218.

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236.

Monkey skull upon the main door lintel of a household of hereditary Srid-pa’i lha cult ritual specialists, West Kameng, 2010. 237. Monkey skull upon the main door lintel of a household of hereditary Srid-pa’i lha cult ritual specialists, Tawang, 2010. 238. Bon po wearing ritual cloaks before the stone slab altar while inviting ancestral deities down from the sky, Yewang, West Kameng, 2011. 239. A bro mo performer wearing the dhing nga shoulder cape during the Lhasöshe festival, Thempang, West Kameng, 2011. 240. Cape-wearing dtô-mbà depicted on the first page of a Naxi Mbèr gyì nv´ manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection A-10 (= Rock no. 944). 241. Cape-wearing dtô-mbà depicted on the first page of a Naxi T’sò mbêr t’û manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection A-6 (= Rock no. 2110). 242. Two women of Lhau settlement wearing felted woollen lhenba shoulder capes with strap across the upper chest during the Pla festival, Lhau, Tawang, 1980. Source: Photograph by Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf. Copyright: Nicholas Haimendorf. 243. Woman’s woollen shoulder cape worn in parts of rGyal-thang, north-west Yunnan, late 1990s. Source: Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002: 147. 244. Manner of wearing the woman’s woollen shoulder cape with strap across the upper chest in parts of rGyal-thang, north-west Yunnan, late 1990s. Source: Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002: 147. 245. Female ritual actor wearing a cape from shoulders to buttocks, illustration from the manuscript Gzer myig (detail from pl. 225). Source: Source: vol. 2, fol. 288b of the Gzer myig manuscript Wadd 1 & Wadd 1a, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Oritent-Abteilung. 246. Ritual specialist in the Srid-pa’i lha cult wearing wide, white trousers called blagkar in local Dzala dialect, Lawa, Khoma valley, 2012. 247. Ninteenth century illustration from the Wise Maps collection of a man from “Mon rTa-dbang” wearing very wide, white silk tousers. Source: Wise Map collection, The British Library, shelf mark Add Or 3033. 248. Naxi yû-ghúgh sheepskin cape worn by married women, Lijiang, north-west Yunnan, 2010. Source: Courtesy of Christine Mathieu, Melbourne. 249. Woman’s sheepskin cape from rGya-tsha, Tibet, ca. 2000. Source: Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002: 22. 250. Woman’s sheepskin cape from lHo-brag, Tibet, ca. 2000. Source: Zhongguo Zangzu Fushi Bianzuan Weiyuanhui 2002: 26. 251. A stone stronghold tower, lHo-brag Shar Chu valley, Tibet, 19871988. Source: Courtesy of Katia Buffetrille, Paris. 252. A stone stronghold tower, lHo-brag Shar Chu valley, Tibet, 19871988. Source: Courtesy of Katia Buffetrille, Paris. 253. The Sras-mkhar dGu-thog tower, gSas valley, central lHo-brag, Tibet, 1950 (Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, detail of acc. no. 2001.59.4.51.1).

456

254.

A square profile fortified tower at a Qiang village in Danba, western Sichuan, 1999. 255. Star profile fortified towers in Somang, western Sichuan, 1999. 256. Naxi pictograph representing the deceased Dtô-mbà Shí-lô, with his broad-brimmed felt hat atop the vertical stake of a thread-cross in a Shí-lô Nv´ Ddû-mùn manuscript. Source: Original held at the Harvard-Yenching Library of the Harvard College Library, Harvard University, Naxi Manuscript Collection A-44 (= Rock no. 1992). 257. Na Taluk the seventy year-old headman of Lengbeng, with his wives, Lengbeng, upper Subansiri valley, 1957. Source: Courtesy of Directorate of Information, Public Relations and Printing, Government of Arunachal Pradesh, photograph by L.R. Sailo. 258. Na Mengfa, son of Na Taluk, at Limeking, upper Subansiri valley, 1957. Source: Courtesy of Directorate of Information, Public Relations and Printing, Government of Arunachal Pradesh, photograph by L.R. Sailo. 259. A Chingtong basket on the ceremonial wall of a Mra house, Batak, upper Subansiri valley, 2006. 260. A Chingtong basket (centre) with other ancestral cult objects behind the nyoding position on the ceremonial wall of a Mra house, Batak, upper Subansiri valley, 2006. 261-64. Lawa Spos rabs manuscript ff. 2b-4a. 265-87. Thempang 1 manuscript ff. 2a-13a. 288. A right hand folio side from a manuscript booklet with vertical left/ right margin stitched spine, from a Byol rabs text, dGa’-thang ’Bumpa-che, gTam-shul. Source: Courtesy of Brandon Dotson. 289. Left and right hand folio sides from a manuscript booklet with vertical, left/right margin stitched binding, Khoma valley, northeast Bhutan, 2011. 290. Upper and lower folios from a manuscript booklet with horizontal, top/bottom margin stitched binding, recording a Sel rabs text narrated by Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, Khoma valley, north-east Bhutan, 2011. 291. rDzogs s+ho // orthographies in manuscripts from Srid-pa’i lha cult sites in the Khoma Chu valley (a. and b.), a dGa’-thang manuscript (c.) and the Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript (d.). 292. Folio Na-1r from the Sha slungs text depicting a male figure (r.) who may represent lha ’O[d]-de Gung-rgyal. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 293. Folio Cha-3r from the Sha slungs text depicting skyin animals. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 294. Folio Tha-3r from the Sha slungs text depicting kha animals. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 295. Folio Ja-3r from the Sha slungs text depicting dan animals. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 296. Folio Ta-3r from the Sha slungs text depicting nyi gri male, female and fawn. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 297. Tibetan gazelle male, female and fawn. Source: “The Tibetan Gazelle, Gazella picticaudata” in P.L. Sclater and T. Oldfield. 18941900. The Book of Antelopes, vol. 3. London: R.H. Porter, plate LII.

List of I llustr ations a nd Pictur e Cr edits

Folio Ca-4r from the Sha slungs text depicting a being who could be a lha or idealised ritual specialist, or both. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 299. Folio Ja-4r from the Sha slungs text depicting a being who could be a lha or idealised ritual specialist, or both. Source: Courtesy of Uwe Niebuhr 2013, Western Himalaya Archive Vienna. 300. Ritual specialist standing before a shalung structure decorated with rhododendron flowers, with central feather plume atop his ‘horned’ headgear, Rahung, West Kameng, 2011. 301-13. Bleiting 2 manuscript ff. 5b-14a and 18b-22a. 314-33. Shawa 1 manuscript ff. 21b-41a. 298.

39.

Maps 8. 9. 10.

Figures 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

29.

30. 31.

32. 33. 34.

35.

36. 37.

38.

Verb sequences for the bon la le’u dgu scheme. G.yen dgu beings in the order they appear in the Old Tibetan manuscript PT 1060 and the ’O gnyen rabs. Sequences and orientations in a rnel dri ’dul ba rite. Combined aspects represented in ste’u and sha slungs rites. Examples of narrative identities shared between the IOL Tib J 734 and Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs manuscripts. Wooden latticework frame design for plah simulacrum of the deceased used during Gurung/Tamu death rites. Source: Pignède 1993 [1966]: fig. 33. Northward horizontal phases, lift-off points and vertical phases for verbal ritual journey itineraries in the research region. Map data: Google, CNES, Airbus, Image Landsat, Copernicus. Historical written forms and colloquial spoken forms of words for ‘bat’ within the research region and adjacent areas. Naxi pictographs for ‘basket’ dt´v (l.) and for the P’ú-dt´v (r.) bonesharing ceremonial ‘faction’ performing Muân bpò’. Source: Rock 1963, I: 379, 382. Comparison of ritual practice in Naxi Muân bpò’ and Srid-pa’i lha cult festivals, for major calendric ceremonies only. Naxi pictographs shî for ‘meat’ (l.), and ná or nà (tone variable) for ‘lean meat’ (r.). Source: Rock 1963: 298, 475. David Crockett Graham’s drawing of small paper flags mounted on bamboo sticks for the premodern Qiang ceremony of Paying the Vows in a sacred grove, western Sichuan, ca. early 1940s. Source: Graham 1958: 61 fig. 6. Thomas Torrance’s drawing of small paper flags with notched margins mounted on bamboo sticks for the premodern Qiang ceremony of Paying the Vows in a sacred grove, western Sichuan, ca. early 1920s. Source: Torrance 1923: 158. Comparison of deities and locations within the domestic microcosm. David Crockett Graham’s side view plan of the three-levelled Qiang house, with roof shed and ritual altar at the top left. Source: Graham 1958: 15 fig. 2. Naxi pictographs of the bâ-k’ô hat. Source: Li Xi and Mu Chen 2003: 162-163.

David Crockett Graham’s drawing of ornamentation on the monkey-skin headdress worn at Mu-shang-chai, Min River basin, western Sichuan, ca. early 1940s. Source: Graham 1958: 56 fig. 5.

11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

Locations of communities with lha according to the Lha’i gsung rabs narrative. Historical Shar Dung territory and probable southward routes for their arrival in proto-Bhutan and the northern Mon-yul Corridor. The historical Dung-rang area, with dung (or dong) toponyms and settlement names, and locations of highland ruins in north-eastern Bhutan. Known hereditary identities of Srid-pa’i lha worship communities. Regional distribution of the se/ce/zhe/zhi/chi/chis ‘ancestral deity’ word. Location areas for women’s sheepskin capes and Se, [b]Se or bSemkhar names (◆). Approximate locations and concentrations of stone stronghold towers. Distribution patterns for the shaman’s drum (shaded) and known locations where shamans practice vitality rites using a vertical, upwards cosmic orientation (◆). Areas with coincident occurrence of the three autonyms. Combined occurrences of empirical traces sampled in chapter 18. Empirical records of related or cognate ‘bon’-identified cultural phenomena.

457

Index

A ya (ritual specialist) (I) 140, 168, 177, 197, 244, 271, 429 – hereditary rank (I) 428–429 A-bu Yum-brtsun (II) 94, 263 A-bu Yum-gsum (I) 94, 95 pl. 13, 96, A-lce lHa-mo (I) 99, 434, 443, 532 ’A-lungs sKyogs-mo (II) 119 A-ma Jo-mo (I) 99, 264, 430, 492 ’A-zha (I) 201; (II) 108, 110, 198, 243, 252 abba mula (II) 205 Abo Tani (I) 110 Aheylha → Changmadung Aiana (II) 231 Aka (I) 31, 193, 194 pls. 51–52, 425–426, 481 → Hruso alcohol (I) 350, 352, 358, 398, 467, 471, 472 fig. 19, 481, 485–486, 519, 540, 558; (II) 79, 187 – and divination (I) 271, 408 – as gser skyems (I) 408 –, cryptolect words for (I) 337; (II) 283–284 –, Lepcha myth of (I) 122 – offered to deities (I) 179, 213, 351, 409, 475, 485–486; (II) 97, 170 –, payments made in (I) 166, 336, 390, 520 – to transfer life powers (I) 58, 179, 409 Allen, Nicholas (I) 5, 300, 532 altar (I) 47, 55, 58, 64, 70, 193, 197–198, 205, 207, 209, 230, 239, 263, 291, 296, 318, 321–322, 347, 353, 357, 383, 401, 404–408, 415, 446, 450–451, 471, 472 fig. 19, 476; (II) 22, 97, 158, 175, 183, 207, 228, 266 → Muân bpò’ –, Buddhist (I) 484, 524 –, chis narang (I) 264; (II) 154, 187 –, leaf platform (I) 59 pl. 8, 350 pl. 108, 351–352, 395 pl. 127 –, muitang (mos gtang) (I) 158, 448–449, 473, 475, 477 pl. 157 –, nawan (I) 533–535 –, Naxi stone slab altar (I) 54 –, nine-shelf (I) 129, 534–535; (II) 91–93 –, portable (I) 54, 398 pl. 131, 411 –, Qiang Paying the Vows festival (II) 158, 178, 182–183, 185, 190 fig. 37, 191 –, stone slab (I) 54, 56 pl. 2, 204 pl. 61, 210 pl. 67, 217, 218 pl. 76, 237, 258 pl. 89, 259 pl. 90, 262–263, 272 pl. 94, 283, 332, 334–335, 342 pl. 107, 345–346, 350, 352, 356, 449, 467, 469, 472 pl. 152, 473, 517, 540; (II) 76 pl. 207, 154, 183–185, 208 pl. 238 – surface (I) 54, 267, 168 – table (I) 260, 397, 407 –, trees used at (I) 70, 71, 92, 250, 258, 521; (II) 169–170, 184–185, 312

–, wooden shelf (I) 54, 217, 403, 542; (II) 187 Amālung Chu (II) 96, 135 → Ang-mo-long Chu Amaranthus spp. (I) 540 Amdo (I) 221; (II) 36, 69, 80, 110–111 Amra-nah (II) 197 ancestor terms –, A lce (Tibetan) (I) 444 –, A mi (Tibetan) (II) 102, 105 –, achi (Dakpa) (I) 82, 91, 96 fig. 1, 263, 317–318, 356, 436, 439, 441, 444 –, ata (Tshangla) (I) 436, 441; (II) 138 –, btsun (Tibetan) (II) 47, 48 fig. 25, 68 –, chis (Tshangla) (I) 81–82, 94, 262, 438, 441; (II) 138, 146, 152 map 12, 153–154, 213–214 –, Ə⫞ si⫞ (Yongning Na) (II) 156 –, low (Tangut) (II) 114 –, me me (I) 365; (II) 156, 159, 185 –, mes, mes mes (Tibetan) (I) 173–174, 365, 535; (II) 159 –, mes po (Tibetan) (I) 154, 173 –, mgon [b]tsun (Tibetan) (I) 365; (II) 48 –, mtshun (Tibetan) (I) 98; (II) 47, 48 fig. 25, 68 –, pha mes (Tibetan) (I) 541 –, pha mtshun (Tibetan) (I) 87, 541 –, pha myes (Old Tibetan) (I) 80 –, se (Yongning Na) (II) 156 –, tɕí qù sè (Qiang) (II) 156 –, yab myes (Old Tibetan) (I) 80 –, zhe/bzhe/bzhes (I) 81, 231, 365, 535; (II) 146, 156, 229 ancestors (I) 7, 30, 48, 88, 183, 255, 388, 463, 551; (II) 59, 81 – and revitalisation of descent groups, as cultural pattern (I) 17, 30, 32, 49; (II) 1-2, 104, 154, 243, 248 –, apical (I) 14, 21, 37, 48, 82–83, 110, 174, 244; (II) 115, 156, 159, 226 – as female beings (I) 53, 63, 97–100, 236, 262, 534; (II) 65, 157–158, 233 – as progenitor beings (I) 1, 16, 22, 60, 66, 86–87, 89, 97, 262, 360, 365, 535; (II) 91, 159, 167, 169, 186 – as wife-givers and -takers (I) 63, 444, 552 fig. 22 –, clan (I) 78, 82, 84, 101, 130, 141, 231, 263, 281, 312, 318, 373, 428–429, 434–436, 439, 489, 498, 500–501, 503, 535; (II) 14, 102, 105, 113, 156, 159, 218, 228 –, declining significance of (I) 553, 559 –, dwarf (I) 76–77 –, hearth dedicated to (I) 54, 98–99, 209; (II) 157 – in lha rgyud genealogy (I) 49, 62

459

Source of Life

–, lha as (I) 22, 39, 60, 77–80, 82, 84–85, 87, 110, 130, 186, 291, 444, 502, 552 fig. 22; (II) 60, 65, 74–75, 116, 176, 183, 344 –, monkey (II) 205 – of bon shamans (I) 19, 151, 168–169, 173–177, 225, 244, 256, 319, 504; (II) 11, 20 –, sky (I) 49, 63, 67, 77, 85, 176, 213, 231, 299, 403, 435, 444, 502; (II) 75, 157, 233, 242, 111, 183, 186, 233, 242 –, sharing vitality principle with (I) 16, 46, 48–49, 50 –, shelf dedicated to (I) 54, 209; (II) 187 –, tricksters as (I) 110, 123 Ang-gi Mes-pho Cha-ga-ra (I) 123 Ang-gi Rog-po Phya-dkar (I) 122 Ang-gi Rogs-po Cha-ga-ra (I) 123 Ang-mo-long Chu (II) 95–96, 135 animal(s) (I) 13, 21, 63, 100, 278, 311, 334; (II) 20 → g.yang; → specific animal names – and healing rites (I) 348; (II) 163, 164 pl. 211, 165, 175, 177–178 – as nawan offering (I) 293, 341, 343, 345, 353, 413, 422, 532–533, 544; (II) 146, 175–176, 242 –, fertility of (I) 15, 381 –, game (I) 17, 29, 179, 422, 531, 533–535, 541, 545–547; (II) 63, 130, 146, 158, 177 –, mimicry of (I) 207, 274, 292–293, 296, 322, 375, 381, 417, 542–547; (II) 185, 187 –, models of, substitutes for (I) 55, 344–345, 381, 407, 449, 455 pl. 147, 473, 519–520, 532, 544; (II) 176 –, psychopomp (I) 131, 186; (II) 27–28, 46, 61, 80 –, ransom (I) 147, 305, 419, 443, 451–455, 463, 467, 473, 480, 519–520 –, sacrificial (I) 49, 93, 155, 178–179, 213, 271, 291, 297, 315, 319, 351, 353, 422, 452–453, 487, 533, 542, 549; (II) 97, 110, 130, 156, 168-170, 172, 178–179, 182–183, 193, 225, 235 – skins used for garments (I) 139–140 pls. 26–27, 141 pl. 28, 144–145, 193, 299; (II) 202, 205, 207 –, sky lha and domestic (I) 85–86, 556; (II) 233 –, stones representing (I) 407, 408 pls. 133–134, 422; (II) 176 –, wild (I) 50, 54, 73, 139, 144, 179, 207, 224 pl. 79, 264, 305, 317, 332, 337, 342–345, 422, 465, 516, 531–537; (II) 52 pl. 195, 54, 57, 61–63, 65–67, 234, 242, 306–307, 308 pls. 293–296, 309–310 Anser indicus (bar-headed goose) (I) 74 A’o Gung-rgyal (I) 82, 361–362 → ʼO-de Gung-rgyal Ao Naga (I) 49 Apatani (I) 8, 262 Aquilaria spp. (I) 401 Ar-mo-leb (I) 457 Ar-rgya-gdung (II) 138 Ardussi, John (I) 6, 37, 40; (II) 86, 102, 116–117, 121, 125–127, 135 Aris, Michael (I) 6, 36, 40, 92, 499, 503; (II) 86, 116–117, 121–122, 125–126, 132, 137–138, 143, 229 arpo (I) 397–399, 407 arrow (I) 63, 123, 267, 278, 354, 361, 418, 420, 460, 469, 509, 513, 531, 534, 546; (II) 133 – and Ephedra (I) 146–147 –, bamboo (I) 479, 493 – -head (I) 221 –, lha (I) 268

460

–, life force (II) 18, 184 –, mda’ yig (I) 355 –, ritual (I) 56, 58, 59 pl. 7, 70, 257, 266–268, 392, 450, 543; (II) 183 –, srog mkhar (I) 146 pl. 33, 147 Artemisia (I) 56, 190, 250 – as incense (I) 137, 267, 365, 401; (II) 34 – as lustration substance (I) 136–137, 363–364; (II) 34 –in material culture of ritual (I) 129, 137, 187, 190 pl. 43, 209, 237, 274, 285, 287, 341, 345, 353, 375, 378, 541, 543, 546; (II) 77, 170 – myriantha (II) 71 – used by Naxi and Qiang (I) 137, 190; (II) 242 – East Bodish language words for (I) 285, 375, 541 Arunachal Pradesh (I) 5, 7, 32, 36, 164–165, 211, 213, 254, 256, 558; (II) 8, 12, 127, 205, 215, 224–225, 230, 235, 253, 261–262 –, Chief Minister of (I) 526 –, eastern (I) 195 –, Governor of (I) 527 –, state government of (I) 8, 526 –, western (I) 1, 3, 8, 25, 47, 74, 81, 171, 558; (II) 162, 307 Asu Dechao (II) 104 Ata Dungphu (II) 138 Ata Shabchang (I) 158, 536; (II) 261 Atajipu (also Jipu) (I) 429, 434–436, 442–446, 472 fig. 19, 486–487, 493 → rGyal-phu –, etymology of (I) 435–436 atmosphere (I) 64, 69, 75, 265, 269–270, 333, 399; (II) 54, 58–59, 68 fig. 26, 69, 75 atmospheric phenomenon (I) 55, 69, 89, 122 –, cloud as (I) 50, 69, 75, 131, 492; (II) 55, 89, 122 –, dew as (I) 69; (II) 89 –, drizzle as (I) 69 –, frost as (I) 85, 354; (II) 89 –, hail as (I) 51, 85, 354 –, lightning as (I) 69, 200 –, mist as (I) 270, 402; (II) 55 –, rain as (I) 50–51, 69, 270, 383, 402; (II) 11, 55, 89, 95, 122, 158, 206 –, rainbow as (I) 75 –, snow as (I) 51, 156, 336; (II) 55, 265 –, thunder as (I) 75, 200, 221, 364; (II) 89 –, wind as (I) 50, 61, 74, 134, 219, 402, 457; (II) 24, 89, 310 A’u-gdung (II) 138 Aum Chu Lang-ling (I) 400 Aum Jomo (I) 99 → A-ma Jo-mo auxiliary being(s) (I) 19, 79 → bon, bon po; → bya ru; → headgear; → hereditary; → Naxi dtô-mbà; → Qiang –, ancestors as (I) 173–174, 176, 244–245, 252, 265, 299, 529 – and shaman’s drum (I) 173, 198, 250, 252 –, bat as (I) 109, 116, 124, 126–130, 300 –, bird as (I) 195, 197, 265, 267, 300, 343 –, gsas as (I) 79, 149–150, 173, 244–245, 247–252, 278, 330, 347, 464–465, 506; (II) 12–13, 15–19, 93, 97, 193, 195–196, 198, 278–279 –, gshen, gshen lha as (I) 19, 79, 168, 173, 244–245, 252, 278–279; (II) 11, 14, 193, 279 –, gShen-lha Thod-dkar as (I) 260, 399, 402–403

Inde x

–, horse as (I) 150 –, insects as (I) 109, 300 –, lha as (I) 79, 173, 244–245, 247–248, 250–252, 330; (II) 111, 193 –, monkey as (II) 205, 237 –, mtshe mi as (I) 173–176, 244 –, nine, of bon shaman (I) 173, 245, 505; (II) 277–278 – of Drung nàm-sà shaman (II) 111 – of Idu igu shaman (II) 197 – of nyibu shaman (I) 144, 175, 195; (II) 237 – pho lha as (I) 465; (II) 206 àyo (I) 173, 176 Ba (I) 429, 501–502; (II) 87–88, 100–102, 104–108, 114–115, 146, 215, 225, 227, 230, 238 → Mon clans Ba-geng (II) 104–106 Ba-gi (also Ba-gi-pa) (I) 501; (II) 104–105, 114, 146, 215, 225, 287, 289 → Bagipa Ba-gyi (I) 501; (II) 104–105, 289 → Ba-gi Ba-mo (I) 501; (II) 104–105 → Ba Babaarang Soma (I) 261 Babdung (I) 309; (II) 135 Bacot, Jacques (II) 217 badger (I) 138–140, 143; (II) 61–63, 66 pl. 205, 67, 205, 307, 309 → Meles leucurus Bagipa (I) 501–502; (II) 104–106, 287, 289 → Ba-gi Bai – language (II) 153, 309 – of Subansiri (I) 144, 223; (II) 177, 180, 227, 230–231, 233–235 – of Yunnan (II) 227, 233 Ba’i (II) 104, 114, 215, 225, 227, 230, 236 → Ba-gi Baiḍûrya dkar po (I) 100 Bailey, Frederick (II) 230 Bailey Trail (I) 427 Bakaphai (II) 104 Bal-po (II) 18 Bal-po Lang-ling-rgyal (II) 110 Bal-po So-brgyad (II) 18 Balam (II) 104 Balikci, Anna (I) 7 bamboo (I) 344, 432; (II) 138, 284, 318 → headgear – as a ritual tree (I) 70, 318, 341, 342 pl. 107, 346, 349, 356, 379; (II) 158 – bows and arrows (I) 85, 402, 479, 493 – drying rack above hearth (I) 99, 120; (II) 171 – dwellings (I) 261, 310–311, 323, 327, 358; (II) 232, 236 – eaten by mithun (I) 244, 460 – identity of female Srid-pa’i lha (I) 318, 341, 379 – in ritual journey itinerary (I) 261, 332, 364, 367, 402; (II) 44–45, 266 – material culture (I) 217, 225, 281, 283, 408, 473, 520, 542; (II) 45, 192, 211 – receptacle for vitality principle (I) 46–47, 213, 260 pl. 92, 273; (II) 79, 235 – resembling Ephedra (I) 140 pl. 29, 141–142, 147 – ritual flag pole (I) 354, 549; (II) 169, 178 figs. 34–35, 179 pl. 214 – ritual staff (I) 120, 142, 144, 147; (II) 228 banana leaves, or tree (I) 261, 394, 397, 401, 407–410, 413, 415, 475, 485–487, 510–511; (II) 170 Bangni (I) 213 Bangru (II) 231–232

Bapu –, Dirang (I) 481; (II) 106, 138 –, etymology of name (I) 428–429 – as hereditary rank (I) 425, 428–430; (II) 103, 106 – origin narratives (I) 430–437, 439 –, Thempang (I) 425–426, 428–429, 439, 441–447, 449, 452–453, 467, 481, 486–478, 489, 492–493; (II) 87, 103, 106, 138, 141, 174–175 –, tsheshomba ceremonial groups of (I) 52, 431, 437, 442–446, 449, 467, 492; (II) 161, 235 Bapu Lhasöshe (I) 305, 425, 431, 437–439, 441, 446–447, 449, 451–452, 455–456, 464, 471, 475, 485–486, 493, 495, 522, 525; (II) 234 – compared with Naxi Muân bpò’ (II) 161, 167–175, 180–181 Bar (also Bar-yul, Bar land Gling-drug) (I) 333; (II) 56, 59 Bar-ba Gling-bzhi (I) 459; (II) 277 Bar-gyi bDun-tshigs (I) 212 barking deer (I) 54, 537; (II) 66, 280, 307, 310 → Muntiacus muntjak barley (I) 29, 427, 517, 231–232 – as ritual substance (I) 219, 248–249, 440; (II) 24–25, 184 –, divination with (I) 271 basket (I) 224 pls. 79 & 81, 225, 261, 311, 350, 353, 442; (II) 211, 318 → Naxi – as symbol of relatedness (I) 52, 446; (II) 161 fig. 31, 162 – for holding offerings (I) 56–58, 59 pl. 5, 158, 517, 519; (II) 169 –, tsheshomba, designating agnatic group (I) 52, 431, 437, 442–446, 449–450, 451 pl. 144, 455, 467, 469, 470 pl. 151, 473, 484, 487, 492; (II) 161, 235 → bat → Dzî-boâ-p’èr; → Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr; → sGam Pha-wang Yer-zur; → sGamchen Pha-wang; → specific bat names – as culture hero (I) 99, 109–110, 118–122, 126, 300 – as messenger (I) 68, 77, 84, 103–110, 110 map 4, 111–118, 120, 122–124, 126–130, 149–150, 195, 256, 266, 300, 359, 360 pl. 113, 360–365, 366 pl. 115, 367–368, 371, 378, 393, 403; (II) 7, 28, 111, 141–142, 149–150, 184 – as trickster (I) 99, 103, 105, 109–110 map 4, 111, 115, 118–119, 122–124, 126, 300; (II) 141–142, 233, 237, 242 –, biological classification of (I) 112 pls. 14–15, 113–115 – in Chinese culture (I) 111, 122 – in dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che texts (I) 105–107 – in Gzi brjid (I) 108–109, 112, 115, 120, 122 – in Himalayan folk narratives (I) 105, 107, 109, 110 map 4, 111, 114–116, 119–120, 122–124, 126; (II) 141, 233 – in le’u pa texts (I) 126 – in Naxi ritual culture (I) 68 pl. 10, 77, 110–111, 113, 114 pls. 16–17, 115 pl. 18, 116, 117 pls. 19–20, 118, 120, 122–124, 126–127, 127 fig. 3, 129; (II) 149, 187, 233 –, morphological ambivalence of (I) 111–118 – on shaman costume and paraphernalia (I) 127 pls. 22–23, 127 fig. 3, 128 pls. 23-25, 129–130, 142, 144, 195; (II) 207 –, white (I) 114 pl. 16, 122–123, 129 –, words for (I) 106, 108–109, 111, 116, 118, 122–123; (II) 140 fig. 30, 141–142 bau (I) 279, 285, 507, 510, 511 fig. 20, 519; (II) 195, 197 → palo; → palopa Bayi → Ba-gi bCung-gtso (II) 107 bdud (I) 79, 147, 363, 365, 405, 421, 462, 465, 469, 471, 479, 506; (II) 9, 24–25, 28–29, 48, 67, 79, 201–202 bdud bon (I) 147

461

Source of Life

bDud-rtsi g.Yu-sbrang (I) 136 bDud-rtsi Thig-gcig (I) 136–137 bear (I) 139, 337, 537; (II) 163, 280–281 – hunting (I) 207, 545–547, 548 pl. 190 Beckwith, Christopher (I) 22, 80 bell (I) 173, 198, 203, 204 pl. 61, 205, 224 pl. 79, 320 pl. 105, 382 pl. 124, 383, 480, 506 pl. 172, 507 –, dril bu (I) 204 –, finger (I) 404, 507 –, flat (I) 149, 156–157, 198–199, 201, 202 pls. 59–60, 207, 250, 252, 285, 290, 365, 367, 406; (II) 195, 196 pl. 228, 197 –, gshang (I) 149–150, 156, 199, 201, 203, 321, 335, 507, 511; (II) 45, 195, 202 –, playing style of (I) 200, 203–204, 335, 358, 367, 369, 378 Bemji (I) 233 pl. 86, 260 pl. 91, 304; (II) 133, 140–141, 257–258 Bemji Chos-rje (II) 140 → gDung lineage Bepa (I) 309 Ber-mkhar (I) 500; (II) 230 Berlin State Library (I) 39 Berounský, Daniel (II) 111 Bha (II) 104, 106, 109 → Ba Bha bon po (also Bha’i bon po) (II) 106, 108–109 Bha-rim-pa (II) 106 Bhagenla (II) 104–105 Bhareli River (I) 463 Bhutan –, Drukpa (’Brug-pa) hierocratic polity in (I) 32–34, 281, 426; (II) 143–144 –, modern conservation laws in (I) 29, 532 –, monarchy in (I) 33, 556 –, rural out-migration in (I) 29, 170, 309, 311–312, 384, 387, 390, 423, 558–559; (II) 256 –, taxation in premodern (I) 33, 311–312, 387, 556; (II) 141 bi (also bimo) (Qiang shaman) (I) 116, 227; (II) 12, 163, 202 Bialek, Joanna (II) 41, 71 Bichom River (I) 463 Billorey, R.K. (I) 36, 155, 503, 509, 511, 515, 520–521, 523, 527 bimo (Nuosu shaman) (I) 227–228; (II) 12, 200 pl. 231, 201 Bing-mog (II) 94, 263 → Kha-bing-mog birch tree (I) 329, 332; (II) 266 bird (I) 17, 107 , 109, 144, 149, 261; (II) 70, 309–311 → bya ru; → feather(s); → specific bird names; → wing(s) – as gson ma (II) 45–46 –, bat classified as (I) 105–108, 111, 121–122, 127, 266, 361; (II) 184 – calls (I) 73–74, 130, 371, 545; (II) 33–35 – -human hybrid beings (I) 75–77, 243; (II) 23–24, 344 – in origin narratives (I) 122, 266–267, 361–362, 392; (II) 23 – messenger (I) 105, 266–267, 300, 435 –, migratory (I) 72–75, 343 – of lha (lha bya) (I) 74, 393; (II) 79 – on ritual specialist costumes and paraphernalia (I) 139, 141, 144–145, 184, 191, 193, 194 pl. 52, 195 pls. 53–54, 465, 505; (II) 113, 199, 207 – protector (II) 65 –, small (bye’u) (I) 535; (II) 61, 62 pl. 202, 63, 65, 67, 74, 77, 91, 324 –, Srid-pa’i lha represented as (I) 83, 91–92, 97, 456 – used in ritual (I) 144, 146, 158, 277–278, 283, 420–421, 455, 505, 534–537,

462

542; (II) 46, 79, 91, 163, 196, 311 –, white (I) 74, 77, 83, 91, 97, 101, 122–123, 141, 144, 266, 283, 432, 479, 493, 505, 510, 519; (II) 77, 79, 197 birth (I) 53, 56, 60–61, 118, 137, 178, 368, 399, 531; (II) 42, 60, 65, 68, 70, 80, 85, 156–157, 171, 175, 184, 317 → skye grib; → skyes lha – pollution (I) 125, 133, 179–180, 297, 336, 390, 442, 543, 557 Bjoka (I) 27, 67, 81, 93, 214 pl. 71, 291; (II) 259–260 → Kheng Bka’ chems ka khol ma (I) 71–72, 83, 88–89; (II) 265, 344 bla (I) 45–46, 49, 70, 146, 168, 276–277, 316, 420, 481; (II) 70–71 → mobile vitality principle Blackburn, Stuart (I) 2, 110–111 blacksmith (I) 98, 219–223; (II) 146, 237, 242 Bleiting (I) 96, 309; (II) 253, 315 Bloch, Maurice (I) 15, 48, 177, 291 Blondeau, Anne-Marie (II) 80 blood (I) 20, 89, 99, 144, 314, 345, 351–353, 363, 384, 433, 457–458, 467, 532–533, 541; (II) 44, 169, 172, 174, 178–179, 182–183, 193, 206 ’Bo-skad (II) 237, 238 map 17 bö (shaman) (I) 173 Bod La (I) 312, 329; (II) 119 Bodhi, tree/wood (I) 401 Bodo-Koch languages (I) 539; (II) 249, 313 Bodt, Tim (I) 47; (II) 126 Bokar (II) 127 boma (I) 92, 367, 373 bombo (shaman) (I) 20, 173, 176, 180, 245–246, 292, 549; (II) 1, 10, 12, 15, 245, 277 Bomdi La (I) 30–31, 463 bon – as rite (I) 19, 23, 89, 149, 152, 156–157, 167–168, 183, 244, 276; (II) 16, 18–19, 25, 28, 32, 71 → bon la le’u dgu –, definitional problem of (I) 14, 16, 18–21 bon, bon po, bonpo (bon shaman) – as auxiliary being (I) 19, 70, 79, 152, 173, 245, 252, 278, 371–372, 402; (II) 11–12, 76, 111, 163, 185, 193, 277–279 – as ritual specialist, cited in indigenous texts (I) 41, 57, 72, 75, 84, 89–90, 93, 103, 104 fig. 2, 109, 116, 126, 131, 133–137, 143, 147–149, 150, 155–158, 167, 175–176–177, 183–184, 197–198, 201, 213, 256, 276, 319, 402–403, 419–420, 455, 464, 506, 535; (II) 17, 30, 35, 47, 73, 106–109, 111, 139, 205, 252 – as ritual specialist, ethnographically recorded (I) 1, 19, 54, 60, 119, 144, 168, 170, 197, 205, 213, 245, 555; (II) 139, 168, 207 → Changmadung, bon po; → Lhau, bon po; → Nyimshong, bon po; → Phudung, bon po; → Saleng, bon po; → Trisa, bon po; → Wamling, bon po; → Yewang, bon po; → Zangling, bon po Bon (proper name) (I) 3, 16, 18–20, 40, 103, 134, 151–157, 438, 497, 515, 523–524, 526; (II) 7, 8, 11, 13, 15, 23, 38, 69–71, 81–82, 93–95, 97, 115, 124–125, 214, 245, 250 → g.Yu-rung Bon; → g.Yung-drung Bon bon chos (also Bon-chos) (I) 20, 37 Bon gSar-ma (I) 153 bon gshen (II) 14–15, 267–268 bon la le’u dgu (I) 246, 268; (II) 7–8, 10, 13–14, 16, 18–19, 28 bon mchod (I) 20 bon shaman → bon, bon po, bonpo; → chami; → drong; → hami; → lha’i bu; → lhami; → mtshe mi; → na’u; → pchami; → pha jo; → plami

Inde x

–, definition of (I) 21, 163–165 –, material culture of (I) ch. 6 –, rite techniques of (I) ch. 7 –, social and cultural features of (I) ch. 5 bon skor (I) 129, 239, 283, 378, 511 Bon Thang-la ’Od-dkar (II) 125–126 Bon-brgyud (also Bon brgyud) (I) 151–153, 157, 319, 327–328, 353, 359, 373; (II) 140 Bon-sbis (II) 140 Bonzila (I) 407 Bos frontalis (I) 205 → mithun Bos grunniens (I) 205 → yak Bpò’ p’à gkó shù (I) 116, 117 pls. 19–20 bpô’-mbò’ (I) 245–246; (II) 12 Bra Chis-tha-ngar (II) 92, 94 Bra-la sGo-drug (II) 113 Brag-btsan dMar-po (I) 185 Brag-dkar (II) 122, 182 Brag-dkar dGon-pa (I) 503 Brag-dkar rTse-rgyal (I) 122 Brag-gsum-skad (II) 238 map 17 Brahmaputra River (I) 539; (II) 1, 118, 217 Brahmi (I) 31, 158 Bramidung (II) 315 ’brang rgyas zhal dkar (I) 56 pl. 2, 57 pl. 3, 58 pl. 5, 365 ’Brang-phugs, ’o bon (II) 30 ’Brang-za, ’o bon (II) 30 bridge (I) 357–358, 498; (II) 115 – as ritual structure (I) 67, 129, 258, 310 – of lha (I) 129, 268 ’Bring-dang, sman bon (II) 47, 73 bro (I) → movement performance – and bell-ringing (I) 203–204 – cited in ritual texts (I) 113, 198, 362, 478; (II) 90, 95, 97, 324 –, definition of (I) 55, 290–293, 295–296 – prohibited outside festival period (I) 391 – related to lha’s body (I) 86, 404–405 – style for Spa lo rabs chant (I) 283 – style for Spos rabs chant (I) 239; (II) 274 – styles during Aheylha festival (I) 393, 395, 404, 407, 411, 415, 416 pl. 141, 417, 421 – styles during Lhamoche festival (I) 345–346, 355, 373, 375 – styles during Lhasöshe festival (I) 442, 448, 466 pl. 148, 469, 473, 478 pl. 159, 483, 485, 487, 492 – styles during Lhau Pla festival (I) 507, 508 pls. 173–174, 509, 517, 519 – with palo (I) 285, 294 pl. 100; (II) 197 bro mo (I) 290–291, 296, 417, 442–443, 446–447, 456, 462, 467, 472 fig. 9, 473, 475, 478 pl. 159, 479–481, 482 pl. 161, 483–485, 487, 492, 494 pl. 170, 507; (II) 168, 207, 208 pl. 239 bro pa (I) 184, 196 pl. 57, 197, 204, 290–293, 296, 417, 442–443, 446–448, 456, 461–462, 465, 466 pl.148, 467, 472 fig. 19, 473, 475, 478–481, 483 pl. 160, 484–485, 487, 492–493, 494 pl. 170, 507, 508 pls. 173–174, 510, 513, 517, 519–520; (II) 199 pl. 230, 206–207 Brokpa (I) 32, 500

Brokpaké (I) 32, 447, 498; (II) 126, 140 fig. 30 ’Brong mDo-gsum (II) 101 → Doksum ’Brong-gnyan-lde’u (II) 108 brophee (I) 211 pl. 70 ’Brug-pa (I) 33, 281, 522 ’Brug-pa bKa’-brgyud (I) 503 ’Brug-pa Kun-legs (I) 15 brTsang-brtsang rDo-rje (I) 125; (II) 94, 264 → Tsangtsang Dorji brTsang-ngo (II) 93–94, 263 → Tsango bsangs (I) 130, 257, 266, 328–330, 333, 352, 371; (II) 43–44 bsDo-bzhi (I) 174; (II) 159, 237 → Tho’u-zhe bSe (I) 106, 134; (II) 108–109, 218, 219 map 13, 238 map 17 bSe Do-re sNya-sto (II) 108 bSe[’] rNol-po (II) 108 bSe-ba-mkhar (I) 312; (II) 109, 116, 218 bSe-mkhar (I) 106, 175; (II) 218, 219 map 13, 238 map 17 bSe-ru (I) 500–501; (II) 108–109, 218 bSe-ru’i yul-ljongs (I) 500 bSen-mkhar (II) 217–218 bSha’-rtse (I) 477 Bshad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu (also Bshad mdzod) (I) 40, 131, 154; (II) 10–17, 19, 21, 23, 65, 97, 111, 124, 306 bShen-lha ’Od-dkar (II) 93, 97 → gShen-lha ’Od-dkar bShen-rab (II) 93, 97 → gShen-rab bshos (also bshos bu) (I) 56–57, 58 plate 5 bslu (I) 277, 551; (II) 34 → ransom bsTan-ma-sti (I) 469; (II) 306 btsan (I) 79, 90, 314–315, 317, 319, 351, 353, 363, 365, 401, 405, 412, 421, 432, 441, 453, 458–459, 462, 465, 469, 471, 479, 506; (II) 24–26, 28, 48, 64, 67, 79, 163, 192, 201, 290 pl. 265 btsan dri (II) 40 btsan po (I) 88, 109; (II) 32, 69, 121, 141 bTsan-mkhar (I) 436; (II) 101, 105, 135, 143 bTsan-lha (II) 160–161, 345 bTsug-gsas (I) 250 bu (ritual specialist) (I) 168, 177; (II) 11–12, 14, 89, 324 Bu-rdzi (I) 85, 251; (II) 188 Bu-rkun (II) 42 Bubalus bubalis (I) 205 → buffalo buckwheat (I) 29, 56, 274, 337, 449, 455, 541, 555–556; (II) 281 Budorcus taxicolor (I) 534 → takin buffalo (I) 205, 322, 549 Bugun (I) 31–32, 81, 193, 194 pl. 50, 425, 481, 483 pl. 164, 536; (II) 12, 140, 197, 248, 262 Buli (I) 107, 122; (II) 139, 259 → Kheng Buli dPon-po (II) 139 → gDung lineage Bum La (I) 498 Bumdeling (I) 198–199, 201, 205, 209, 275, 293, 305, 309–314, 316, 318–319, 326, 336–337, 346, 369, 384, 435, 535, 342; (II) 9, 16, 23, 96, 98–99, 119, 135, 138, 186–187, 198, 229, 260, 263, 280, 346 Bumthap (I) 29, 96, 119, 123, 231, 232 pl. 85, 379, 554; (II) 126, 137, 140 fig. 30, 146, 183, 229, 246 –248, 257, 317 Bung-ba sTag-chung (I) 19 Burlabrang (II) 231

463

Source of Life

Burma (I) 7–8, 49, 213, 403, 452, 549, 555; (II) 193, 224, 307, 309 butter (I) 121, 355, 398, 408–409, 413; (II) 92, 94, 130, 232, 283, 325 –, dietary taboo for (I) 444 – for transmission of life powers (I) 53, 347–348, 352, 373, 549; (II) 194 – in sexual allusions (I) 62, 340 – lamps (I) 260, 397, 459 – offerings (I) 217, 477; (II) 91, 93, 201–202 –, ritual devices made from (I) 57–58, 59 pl. 7, 156, 268, 396 pl. 129, 397, 543 – used in divination (I) 271, 335 Bya Chu (I) 144 bya gshen (II) 65, 74, 311 bya ru (I) 191; (II) 23 → feather(s) – and auxiliary beings (I) 184–185, 197, 245, 464–465, 466 pl. 148, 505–506; (II) 193, 277 – for planting rite (I) 136, 146–147, 278–279, 281, 286 pl. 99, 506, 519, 520 pl. 182; (II) 196–198 – on headgear (I) 184–185, 191, 193, 197, 371, 448, 464–465, 466 pl. 148, 492–493, 505, 514, 516 pl. 180; (II) 199, 201, 206 Bya-dmar-po (I) 471 Bya-khri bTsan-po (I) 83 Bya-khyung (I) 85 Bya-khyung dKar-po (I) 251 Bya-khyung Ka-ru (I) 471 Bya-mo-khri (II) 92 Bya-thul dKar-po (I) 141 Byar Chu (II) 231 Byar-smad (II) 230 Byas-spangs rTog-sheng (II) 94 Byengra Lok (I) 264 fig. 9 Byongs-mi (II) 99 → bZhongs-mi Byu-le-spun (II) 17 Bzhal thems (I) 326, 328, 383 bZham-ling (II) 94, 263 bZhing-leng (II) 94, 263 bZhongs-mi (also bZhongs-mi Lum-pa) (II) 94–96, 98–100, 134 map 10 cape, cloak (I) 108, 139, 361; (II) 207–208, 238 map 17 → Naxi dtô-mbà – in illustrated Gzer myig manuscript (II) 200 pl. 233, 209, 211 pl. 245 – of bird feathers (I) 138, 141, 361; (II) 113, 207 – of bon po and gshen in texts (I) 138, 141, 144, 149, 267; (II) 24 – of bon po in Mon-yul Corridor (I) 128 pls. 24–25, 504 pl. 171, 506 pl. 172, 507; (II) frontispiece, 207, 208 pl. 238 – of bon shamans in north-east Bhutan (I) 127 pl. 22, 128 pl. 23, 144, 321 – of bro mo (II) 208 pl. 239, 211 – of bro pa (I) 196 pl. 57, 197, 480; (II) 208 – of lHo-brag women (II) 218 pl. 250, 219 map 13 – of Naxi women (II) 215, 216 pl. 248, 217, 219 map 13 – of rGya-tsha women (II) 216 pl. 249, 217–218, 219 map 13 – of rGyal-thang women (II) 210 pls. 243–244, 211 – of Tawang women (II) 210 pl. 242, 211 Capra sibirica (Siberian or Himalayan ibex) (II) 307 Caprimulgus spp. (nightjar) (I) 274 caves (I) 119, 120, 317, 343–344, 432; (II) 34, 36, 92–93, 185, 197, 323 cedar (I) 129, 281, 283; (II) 183, 188

464

Central Asia (I) 163; (II) 61, 243 Central Tibet (I) 83, 87–88, 134, 139–140, 327, 333, 502, 513, 522; (II) 80, 102, 117, 124, 128, 132, 140 fig. 30, 195, 205, 214, 243 –, southernmost (I) 6, 18, 20, 30, 37–38, 40–41, 62, 65, 93, 97, 104–105, 131, 132 map 5, 175, 215, 231, 249, 252, 278, 330; (II) 1, 3, 11, 32, 35, 37, 71, 82, 96, 99, 107, 116 Cervus spp. (Cervid deer species) (I) 292; (II) 66 Cervus unicolor (Sambar deer) (I) 349 cha (I) 45, 50, 96, 167; (II) 77 → mobile vitality principle – divination (I) 273 – servant (I) 543 Cha (ancestral deity title) (I) 48, 97, 167, 435, 533, 543; (II) 77, 158 → Pcha – festival (I) 53, 120, 279, 381, 543, 545; (II) 79, 229, 254 – talismanic stones (I) 273–274 Cha Cha (I) 431, 435, 441; (II) 234 Cha Kalepey (I) 543 Chab-nag Srid-rgyud (I) 31–32 Chali (I) 92, 157 chambring (shaman) (I) 255; (II) 22, 224 chami (bon shaman) (I) 48, 167, 543–544; (II) 254 Chang Karey (I) 264 Changbukpa (I) 264 Changchub Dorji (I) 388–390 Changdung (II) 135 Changmadung (lCang-ma-dung maps) – Aheylha festival (I) 291, 292, 304–305, 316, 387, 389–395, 397–398, 401, 403, 406–408, 410–411, 413, 417, 421–423, 438; (II) 188, 260 – bon po (I) 75, 188 pl. 38, 240, 391–395, 396 pl. 130, 397–415, 416 pl. 141, 417–418; (II) 260, 265, 267 –, social history of (I) 387–390, 421–423 Changphu (I) 264; (II) 262 Changthang (II) 63, 223 Chao (II) 102–104 Char Chu (II) 231 Char-then-che (I) 69 Charme (II) 230 Che-mchog He-ru-ka (I) 152 Cheng (I) 312–313, 461; (II) 260 Chengling (II) 100 Chepang (II) 12 Chhodīgāng Chu (II) 96 Ch’i-lien Shan (II) 110 Chibs-lha ’Than-’tsho (II) 90 chicken (also cock) –, dietary taboo for (I) 171, 178, 298, 429–430, 443–444; (II) 130, 267 – feathers (I) 144, 283, 284 pls. 97–98, 285, 287, 338, 384, 479, 493, 510, 519; (II) 193, 196 –, mimicking of (I) 274 – motif in narrative (I) 339; (II) 155, 160, 165, 234, 345 –, sacrifice of (II) 170 fig. 32, 519; (II) 197 –, use of live (I) 283, 285, 338; (II) 170 fig. 32, 196–197 Chiksaybu festival (I) 30–31, 538, 547, 548 pl. 190; (II) 262 children (also child, infant) 71, 164, 171–172, 178, 312, 329, 449, 489; (II) 106, 138, 174–175, 205, 212–213, 324

Inde x

– as motif in narrative (I) 156–157, 219, 277, 361, 368, 435; (II) 27, 40–47, 93, 270 – as ritual participants (I) 55, 266, 373, 411, 520, 541; (II) 310 – as ritual performers (I) 289, 316 – as ritual pledge in ransom rite (I) 147 – as young ones (ne’u zhon) descended from lha (II) 55–56, 57, 59, 64–65, 68 fig. 26 – associated with birds (I) 76–77 –, birth of (I) 29, 56, 369, 531 –, conception of (I) 21, 29, 34, 60, 62, 129, 368, 390, 407, 410, 521; (II) 75, 93 –, deities associated with (I) 100, 251, 268; (II) 42, 158, 188, 306 –, negative spirits of dead foetus or new-born (I) 40–47, 48 fig. 25, 70 – of bon shaman (I) 171, 178–179 – of lha father (I) 61–62, 91, 98, 316, 368–369, 373, 391, 407, 410–411; (II) 75 –, ritual aspiration to have (I) 36, 53, 341, 357, 410, 412, 515, 521; (II) 56–57, 59, 80, 95 China (I) 6, 65, 72, 91, 103, 111, 113, 148 pl. 35, 199–200, 213, 285, 339, 477, 524, 548, 557; (II) 166, 224, 227, 230, 243 Chingtong (II) 235, 236 pl. 260 Chiroptera (I) 112–115 → bat Chis (I) 262, 536 Chisöshe (I) 427, 438, 536; (II) 106, 138, 173, 261–262 Cho La (II) 91, 119, 120 map 9 Chocha-ngacha (II) 126 –, spread of Srid-pa’i lha cult among speakers of (I) 28 map 2, 30, 388; (II) 144 map 11, 247–248, 255–256, 260, 263 –, practice of Srid-pa’i lha worship among speakers of (I) 86, 89, 125, 381, 389, 532, 541–542; (II) 23, 192 –, Srid-pa’i lha cult terminology in (I) 20, 45, 81, 167–168, 262, 316–317; (II) 140 fig. 30, 142, 152 map 12, 154 chopjido (ritual specialist) (II) 312 Chos ’byung me tog snying po sbrang rtsi’i bcud (also Nyang ral chos ’byung) (I) 66; (II) 11 chos mdzad (I) 169 chos med (I) 169, 503 Chos-dbyings Rang-grol (I) 243, 533 Chos-rje (I) 273–274; (II) 140–141, 143 chu rgyud (I) 72, 92, 254 Chu-zhe Ngag-lha-mo (I) 53; (II) 99 → Chus-zhes Chug (also Chugpa) (I) 32 Chug-zhes Ngag-lha (II) 94, 98–99, 263 → Chus-zhes Chus-zhes (I) 82; (II) 146 Chus-zhes Ngag-lha-mo (II) 192 → Chus-zhes Chusa (I) 96 fig. 1; (II) 229, 254 – Monastery (I) 339 Cinnamomum spp. (I) 401 clan(s) → Mon clans – ancestor deities (I) 82, 231, 263, 312, 317–318, 343, 367, 439, 452, 456, 498, 518, 535, 553–554; (II) 14 – and organisation of ritual culture (I) 314, 425, 442–446, 503–505, 510, 536; (II) 228–230 – as rus (I) 313, 428, 433, 497, 510; (II) 87, 105, 109, 112, 159, 289 –, bone and bone-sharing (I) 313, 428–429, 444; (II) 87, 105, 159 – cited in Rgyal rigs (I) 40, 499, 501; (II) 87, 287–289

–, definitions of (I) 313, 428, 482 –, origins of (I) 77–78, 431–436; (II) 88–100, 104–114 –, state intolerance or indifference towards (I) 34–35; (II) 143–145 –, social significance of (I) 312–314, 428–430, 489, 494–495, 499–502, 522–525 – as tshan (I) 428 cloak → cape Co (II) 123 Co-mi (II) 123 Col, Giovanni da (I) 61 communal feast (I) 355, 385, 391, 397–398, 409, 437, 446–447, 483 pl. 165, 487, 492, 521, 541, 546, 549; (II) 310 contest (I) 293; (II) 172–174 –, archery (I) 440; (II) 171, 173–175 – between Buddhist and Bon figures (I) 155 –, chanting (I) 326, 359 –, horse riding (I) 511, 513 –, jumping (I) 293, 294 pl. 101, 295 pl. 102, 375, 379 –, running race (I) 293, 296, 326, 346, 368, 370, 379 –, tug-of-war (I) 437, 493; (II) 171, 173 cord (also rope) 67 → dmu thag; → mudag; → white; → wool – as bridge for lha (I) 310 – attached to phallus (I) 258, 515, 521; (II) 187 – attached to shaman (I) 129 – in Miju Mishmi rites (I) 22 – in Naxi rites (II) 22 –, rMu (I) 69, 107, 131, 231, 258; (II) 13, 17, 19, 20–22, 89–90, 229 –, vegetal (I) 375, 376 pls. 119–120, 377 pls. 121–122, 378 corpse disposal (II) 195 – by burial (II) 51 – by exposure (II) 22 – in rivers (I) 72–73, 315, 541, 551, 552 fig. 22 –, prohibitions and pollution of (I) 180, 325, 329, 557 – with coffin (I) 73; (II) 233 crane (I) 73–74, 266; (II) 74 cryptolect vocabulary → Dzala Cuculus saturatus (Himalayan cuckoo) (I) 74 → cuckoo cuckoo (I) 73–75, 266, 343; (II) 24, 310 Cupressaceae (I) 70, 257, 395 Dag-pa (I) 78, 498; (II) 140, 218 → Dakpa Dag-pa Tsho-gsum (II) 155 Dag-pa-nang (I) 498 → Dakpanang Dag-pa-yul (I) 498; (II) 99, 138, 218 Dags (I) 132, 134, 518; (II) 217–219 Dags-po (II) 217 →Dags Dags-shul (II) 217 →Dags Dags-yul (II) 217–218 →Dags Dags-za Gyim Pang-ma’ (II) 217 Dakpa (language) (I) 9, 17, 31, 81–82, 158, 279, 315, 321, 343, 387, 427, 444, 498, 554; (II) 2, 100, 105–106, 113, 126, 142, 207, 243, 246–247, 261, 263–264, 280, 317 – compared with Qiangic and Naish languages (II) 152–153, 165 – named Brahmi (I) 31, 158

465

Source of Life

– influenced texts (I) 176, 216 pl. 74, 231, 234 pl. 87, 235–236, 262, 447; (II) 100–101, 157, 247, 313, 316 –, speakers of (I) 27, 29, 30, 31, 36, 46–48, 72, 81–82, 97, 167, 173, 184, 197, 215 pl. 73, 243, 276, 314, 381, 440–441, 501–502, 521, 531, 534, 537; (II) 86–87, 101, 103, 137, 146, 151, 154, 156, 164 pl. 211, 166, 184, 193, 205, 213, 230–231, 248 – vocabulary and pronunciation (I) 45–46, 48, 78, 81–82, 167, 176, 184, 191, 235, 262–263, 270, 281, 296–297, 312, 313, 318, 337, 379, 436, 439, 444–446, 481, 497, 503, 505, 509–511, 520; (II) 89, 101, 123, 140, 142, 152–153, 162–163, 165, 208, 211, 311, 316, 327, 329 Dakpa (population) (I) 73, 78, 343, 435, 498, 518, 551; (II) 102–104, 123, 217–218 → Dag-pa Dakpa Shiri (II) 232 Dakpa Tshosum (I) 339 → Dag-pa Tsho-gsum; → Tshosum Dakpanang (I) 91, 97, 173, 191–192, 318, 498–499, 507, 516, 522; (II) 100, 138 Daksa (I) 86; (II) 256 Dalai Lama (I) 158 → Tshe-dbang lHa-mo –, Fifth (II) 106 –, Fourteenth (I) 524 –, mother of Sixth (I) 481, 482 pl. 162; (II) 230 –, Sixth (I) 481, 482 pl. 162; (II) 230 Dali (II) 227 Damkhar (I) 86; (II) 256 dance (I) 290–291, 293, 355, 369, 384, 527, 528 pl. 183, 549 → movement performance Dangs-po ’Pral-gangs (I) 420 Daphne spp. (I) 348, 401 Darjeeling (I) 5, 155 ’das log (I) 165 dBal-gsas (I) 248 dBal-gsas bTsan-po (I) 329, 347; (II) 278–279 dBang-’dus rDo-rje Chang-chen (I) 315, 319 dBa’s dByi-tshab (II) 108 dBus (II) 117, 120 dBye (II) 35 dBye gshen mKhar-bu (II) 45, 72 dBye-mo Yul-grug[s] (II) 45, 72 fig. 27 dByal-gyi ’O-bdag bTsun-po (II) 24 death (I) 89, 337, 419, 547; (II) 17, 63, 80, 172 – and post-mortem state (I) 36, 45, 70, 552; (II) 168, 196, 205, 224 – antithetical to lha (I) 48, 54, 478, 480; (II) 13 –, bad or unnatural (I) 123, 211; (II) 40–41, 43, 70 –, downstream orientation of (I) 72–73, 165, 551, 552 fig. 22; (II) 32 –, negative beings associated with (II) 42–47, 48 fig. 25 – pollution (I) 125, 133, 179, 325, 329, 336, 390, 442, 543, 557; (II) 46, 47, 132 – rites (I) 56, 67, 69, 105, 131, 137, 269–270, 278, 464, 510, 535, 551, 557; (II) 27–29, 31, 34, 40, 51, 53, 55–56, 73–74, 77, 78 fig. 28, 78 pls. 208–209, 79, 110, 187, 195, 198, 200 pl. 232, 202 Debjön (I) 313–314 deer (also stag) (I) 50–51, 99, 121, 179, 185, 207, 267, 351, 502, 533–535, 537, 540, 545, 549; (II) 18, 34, 234, 280, 328–329 → barking deer; → Cervus; → g.yang – as ransom animal (I) 393, 417–422 –, call of (I) 207, 292, 349

466

– in sha slungs rite (II) 61–63, 66–67, 307, 309 – meat taboo (I) 179, 298; (II) 267 –, musk (I) 216 pl. 75, 344; (II) 163, 309 –, Sambar (I) 349 dGa’ Sa-le (II) 65 dGa’-ldan Pho-brang → Ganden Phodrang dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che (I) 18, 38, 141, 177, 218 dGa’-thang manuscripts (I) 15, 24, 40–41, 65–66, 71–72, 76–77, 82, 103–104, 108, 116, 132, 134, 138, 144–146, 153, 157, 175, 201, 203, 213, 228, 250, 256, 277, 300, 553; (II) 7, 10–12, 14, 17, 20, 29, 33, 35–36, 39, 49, 53, 67, 69, 76, 88, 106, 113, 117, 121–122, 124, 126, 132, 141, 182, 250, 314 dGa’-thang ritual texts –, Byol rabs (I) 39, 98, 107, 141, 147, 149–150, 276; (II) 9, 13, 44, 201, 302 pl. 288, 305–306 –, Gnag rabs (I) 38, 249; (II) 71, 344 –, Gser skyems kyi rabs (I) 38, 223 –, Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs (I) 38–39, 93, 105, 130–131, 141, 184, 251; (II) 13, 16, 40–47, 48 fig. 25, 51, 60, 72 fig. 27, 73, 75, 81–82, 111, 302–303 dGa’-yel (I) 66 dGab-mar-ma (II) 41 dGe-lugs-pa (I) 33, 99, 191, 225, 427, 498, 502–503 – hostility to Bon (I) 225, 523–524 dgra bgegs (I) 151 dgra bla (I) 49 dgra lha (I) 49, 239, 354, 371–372, 465; (II) 63, 206, 274 dGra-lha Dar-ma (I) 251 dGra-lha Yo-byad (I) 69 dgung lha (I) 53, 80, 82, 96 fig. 1; (II) 193 dGung-ma Phla (I) 48 Dhammai (I) 425; (II) 173 Dhansiri River (I) 426 dice – divination (I) 170, 442, 453 – game as narrative motif (I) 125, 364, 440, 448 dietary taboos – as indicator of migration (I) 178, 430; (II) 130 – at communal feasts (I) 398, 409 – for dairy foods in highland Arunachal Pradesh (II) 232 – of bon shamans (I) 171, 177–179, 398, 442–443, 517, 545; (II) 267 – of clan and status groups (I) 30, 178, 428–430, 442; (II) 103, 106 – of Lohorung Rai yatangpa (I) 180 – of nyibu shamans speaking Tani languages (I) 179; (II) 267 – of Qiang and Moso ritual specialists (I) 180 – of non-shaman ritualists in Srid-pa’i lha cult (I) 266, 279, 289, 298, 442–444, 517, 545 – of Sherdukpen khikzizi or zizi (I) 179; (II) 267 Digaru Mishmi (I) 255; (II) 224 Dingchung (I) 310–313, 319, 321, 323–325, 333–334, 343, 351, 384–385 Dirang (’Di-rang, sDe-rang maps) (I) 30–32, 158, 193, 197, 213, 297, 305, 394, 426, 436, 439, 447, 452, 463, 467, 481,497, 499, 504, 510, 519, 523, 532, 539, 541, 545; (II) 108, 113, 136, 173, 207, 267, 310 → Tshangla Dirang Busti (I) 34 pl. 1, 35, 298, 427–429, 438–439, 501, 507, 536; (II) 105–106, 138, 168, 262

Inde x

Dirang Chu (I) 27 Dirang district (also Circle) (I) 30, 32, 35, 83, 157, 171, 184, 204, 262–263, 269, 297, 425, 427, 437–438, 449, 487, 489, 522, 536, 538, 547; (II) 106, 138, 154, 178, 199, 261–262, 277–278, 313 Dirang Dzong (I) 35, 427 Dirkhi Dzong (I) 425, 436; (II) 143 divination (I) 60, 105, 156, 176, 277, 295–296, 323; (II) 163, 329 – by tossing objects (I) 271, 335, 410 pl. 136, 411, 415 – for appointment of ritual specialists (I) 172, 442–443; (II) 168 – for livestock (I) 391, 407–408 – for seefu persons (I) 410 – for selection of ransom animal (I) 453, 454 pl. 146 – involving Srid-pa’i lha (I) 227, 270, 273–275, 333–335, 349, 407–408, 410–411, 415, 443, 451 –, Kalang (I) 325, 328, 334, 335 pl. 106 –, Mangromshe (I) 325, 333–334 –, mo (I) 133–134, 172, 271, 333, 410, 442; (II) 32, 325 – motif in narrative (I) 103, 116, 119, 123, 133, 172, 180, 271, 371, 459–460, 463–464; (II) 93 –, phya (I) 133, 271, 273; (II) 77 – texts (I) 86, 219, 227, 270, 448, 454; (II) 29, 158 – with dice (I) 442, 454 pl. 146 – with dream (I) 274–275, 443 – with game animal (I) 349 – with grain (I) 271 pl. 93, 274, 333–334 – with talismanic stones (I) 273–275; (II) 77 dKyil-mthing (I) 365 → Kyi-mthing dMu (I) 212, 333; (II) 16, 20, 123 dmu thag (also rmu thag) (I) 67, 131, 231, 258; (II) 16, 20, 22 → mudag dMu-btsun Gri-sman (I) 104 fig. 2 dMu-lcam Gra-ma (I) 157 dMyal (II) 251 Do-dzu-sei (II) 159 Doh (I) 175; (II) 237 doksa (dog sa) (I) 324, 395, 397, 448 fig. 17, 469, 471, 487, 543, 546 Doksum (I) 304, 387, 400 fig. 14; (II) 100–101 →’Brong mDo-gsum Don-grub-dar (II) 117 Don-grub-rgyal (II) 102 Dong Sumpa (I) 221; (II) 110 Dongdala Chu (II) 96, 135 Dongpuri (II) 138 Dongri (II) 138 door(s) (I) 220, 272, 392, 448, 491; (II) 281 – as site of deity in house (I) 85, 415, 189 fig. 36 –, monkey skull above (I) 204 pls. 236–237, 205 – of house (I) 372–373; (II) 44, 76, 159 – of living and dead (I) 48, 135 – of sky (also cloud) (I) 69, 131, 89 –, ritual sequence of (I) 69–70, 263, 347, 438, 483, 485; (II) 44–45, 48 fig. 25, 89, 180–181 –, then stages as (I) 69, 89 doorsill (also threshold) (I) 99, 121, 222, 263, 413, 415, 426; (II) 43–46, 76 Dorji Gyaltsen (I) 8–9; (II) 280, 316 Dotson, Brandon (I) 24, 150, 256, 277; (II) 40–41, 344

Douyu (II) 231 Doyü (II) 231 dPa’-bo Ro-glud (II) 205–206 dPal-ri (I) 439 dpon gsas (II) 15 dPon-chen (I) 34; (II) 115 dPon-po (I) 35; (II) 139–141 Dran-pa Nam-mkha’ (I) 144 Drang-nga-mkhar (I) 498; (II) 99, 263 Drangma Chu (Grang-ma Chu maps) Drangmé Chu (I) 387, 399; (II) 100 Drangnang Chu (I) 27 → Drangma Chu ’dre bon (I) 170, 187 Dre-ngar (II) 94, 263 dri (I) 105; (II) 40, 42–47, 48 fig. 25, 124 – bon (II) 12, 40, 43, 46, 48 fig. 25 –, btsan (II) 40 –, bu (I) 105; (II) 41 –, g.yam (II) 64, 67 – ma (I) 105 – mo (I) 41 –, rnel (I) 105, 106, 130; (II) 9, 40–47, 70, 124 – za (I) 412, 505 Dri zhim dud sel (I) 138, 239; (II) 268, 346 Dri-gum bTsan-po (I) 72; (II) 205 Drib La (sGrib La maps) Driem, George van (I) 2, 47; (II) 117, 316 Drigu (Gri-gu maps) dril bu (I) 204 → bell drong (bon shaman) (I) 168, 314, 320–323, 325–327, 329, 338, 341, 345–349, 352–353, 355, 358, 360, 367–369, 379, 383–384, 505 → sgrung Drong (I) 313–314 Drukpa (I) 32–34, 426; (II) 143–144 drum (I) 164, 198, 207, 209, 219, 290, 299, 367; (II) 165, 282 – carried upon back (I) 149, 151–152, 200, 203, 205, 211 – handle (I) 129, 199–200 –, Himalayan distribution of 198–201, 203, 205, 271, 224 map 15 – in Berlin Gzer myig (I) 199, 200 pl. 38; (II) 201–202, 209 – motif in narrative (I) 89–90, 139, 149, 151–152, 155–157, 200–201, 365; (II) 24–25 –, Naxi (I) 200; (II) 165, 202 –, phyed rnga (I) 199 –, Qiang ji ver (I) 199–200; (II) 202 –, rnga (I) 199–201 –, single-sided (I) 156–157, 199–201, 296, 299, 321; (II) 146 – playing techniques (I) 156–157, 198, 201, 203 drumsticks (I) 156, 199–200, 203; (II) 201 Drung (I) 36, 49, 54, 63, 116, 209, 255, 262, 403, 549; (II) 111, 187, 224–225 Drushul (Gru-shul maps) Dtô-mbà Shí-lô (I) 77, 245; (II) 187, 212–213, 228 pl. 256, 234 Duhumbi (I) 32 Dung (I) 86, 436–437, 502; (II) 41, 116–118 → Dung-rang; → Dung-reng; → gDung; → Shar Dung –, characterisation of (II) 127–129

467

Source of Life

–, lHo (II) 117–118, 127, 137 – migration (I) 6, 100, 174; (II) 106, 115–116 – origin motifs and narratives (I) 78, 98; (II) 121–124 – toponyms (II) 105–106, 114, 120–121, 134 map 10, 135–138 Dung ’Di-rang (I) 436–437, 441; (II) 136, 138 Dung Nagpo (II) 137 Dung-gyi-yul (II) 121 Dung-mkhar (I) 98 Dung-mtsho (II) 121–123 Dung-mtsho dKar-mo (I) 462; (II) 122, 306 Dung-nag (II) 123 Dung Rang (Dung-rang maps) Dung-rang (I) 436; (II) 96, 114, 125, 127, 134 map 10, 135–136, 280 Dung-rang Lung-pa (I) 436; (II) 135–136 Dung-reng (I) 436; (II) 116, 118–119, 125, 127, 134–135 Dung-stod (II) 41 Dung-yul (II) 41, 48 fig. 25, 121–122 Dung-yul Dung-stod (II) 121 Dung-za rNgu-mo (II) 123 Dunga Ridge (II) 96, 134 map 10 Dungda Ridge (II) 135 Dungdala Chu (II) 96, 135 Dungkhar (I) 96 fig. 1, 98 → Dung-mkhar Dungkharpa (I) 429; (II) 106, 289 Dungri Chu (II) 96, 134 map 10, 135 Dungs (II) 120–121 Dunhuang (I) 14, 18, 38, 103, 250, 252, 300, 451; (II) 27, 36, 40, 51, 69, 110, 183, 251 dur gshen (II) 47 Dur-ti-mo (I) 96 fig. 1 → Shutimo Dus-gsum gShen-lha (I) 248 Dwags-po (II) 217 Dzala (I) 17, 29, 72–73, 276, 315, 436, 509–510, 532, 551, 554; (II) 2, 100–105, 126, 157, 163–166, 183, 187, 205, 207, 213, 218, 230, 238, 246–247 – boundary with Kurtöp (I) 97, 279 – cryptolect vocabulary (I) 9, 209, 312, 319, 325, 334, 336–338, 343; (II) 137, 177, 280–286 – influenced texts (I) 8, 97, 213, 231, 235–236, 329, 333, 354, 533; (II) 89–95, 100–101, 104, 126, 265–266, 315–343 –, Khomakha dialect of (I) 279; (II) 140, 280, 317 –, speakers of (I) 27, 31, 36, 46, 184, 197, 237, 309, 429, 501–502, 537; (II) 87, 146, 253–254, 260, 263 – vocabulary and pronunciation (I) 45, 47–48, 78, 81–82, 96 fig. 1, 167, 185, 187, 205, 270, 281, 293, 296, 312, 316, 318, 323, 343, 355, 357, 379, 439, 440, 503, 534; (II) 76, 79, 105, 115, 123, 136, 139, 140 fig. 30, 152–154, 156, 162, 177, 196, 198, 212 pl. 246, 229 ’Dzam-bu-gling (II) 89, 227, 285 Dzî-boâ-p’èr (I) 68 pl. 10, 113, 114 pl. 17 → Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr Dzî-gyù-lâ-lêr-dù’ (I) 77 ’Dzom-pa-dbang (II) 230 → Na ’Dzom-pa Dzongkha (I) 9, 45, 381; (II) 123, 247 – vocabulary (I) 109, 199, 379; (II) 140 fig. 30, 280–286, 318

468

E-mo Yul-drug (II) 90 E-yul (II) 124, 217 eagle (I) 144, 193; (II) 165, 197 Eaglewood (I) 401 East Bodish languages (I) 5, 100, 124, 139, 313, 346; (II) 71, 118, 223, 238 → Bumthap; → Dakpa; → Dzala; → Henkha/Nyenkha; → Khengkha – and Mon clan identities (II) 2, 101, 104, 243 – and spread of Srid-pa’i lha cult (I) 28 map 2, 29–30, 554; (II) 146, 151, 152 map 12, 153–154, 175, 213–214, 246–248 – and Shar Dung (II) 126–127 – in written texts (I) 217, 231, 232 pl. 84, 233 pls. 85–86, 234 pl. 87, 235–236; (II) 139 –, vocabulary and pronunciation of (I) 45, 54, 57, 78, 82, 92, 99, 122, 187, 199, 261, 270, 318, 375, 439, 440, 445–446; (II) 42, 70, 103, 136, 140 fig. 30, 142, 153 154, 157, 177 ecological boundary (I) 71–72; (II) 88 – as site of danger and death (I) 72, 419; (II) 43 – as site of discovery (I) 460 – as site of rite or sacred grove (I) 71, 394, 403, 419, 449, 450 fig. 18, 473 – incorporated into shrine (I) 403 –, meeting lha at (I) 71–72, 75, 353, 365, 404–405 egg(s) (I) 540, 542; (II) 53–54, 63, 77, 79, 162, 170, 174, 177, 236, 345 – birth motif in narrative (I) 73–74, 76, 266–267, 371–372; (II) 23, 65, 74, 122, 160, 183 –, dietary taboo for (I) 178, 298, 390, 398, 442; (II) 267 –, stones resembling (I) 271, 273; (II) 77 Ephedra (I) 137, 140 pl. 29, 250, 300; (II) 241 → arrow; → bamboo; → mtshe mi; → staff – as ritual messenger (I) 248–249, 300 – gerardiana (I) 249 – in ’o gnyen rite (II) 24–25, 27–28 – in planting rite (I) 146–147, 176, 277–278 – in ransom rite (I) 147, 249, 277; (II) 25, 28 –, origin narrative of (I) 219, 223, 248, 249 fig. 7 Ersu (I) 212, 227; (II) 153, 157, 182, 185 pl. 219 eulogy (I) 151, 153–154, 327, 448, 483 feast of merit (I) 35–36, 143, 549 feather(s) (I) 108, 429, 542; (II) 319, 323 – arrow fletches/flights (I) 147, 268, 418 – as bya ru for planting rite (I) 146–147, 184–185, 191, 277–279, 281, 286 pl. 99, 287, 503, 505, 509, 519, 520 pl. 182; (II) 197 – for garment (I) 139, 141, 144; (II) 113, 207 – as ritual device (I) 109, 139, 142 pls. 30, 144, 538 pl. 187; (II) 163, 193, 194 pls. 226–227, 195, 196 pl. 228, 197, 310 –, birds and humans having or lacking (I) 76; (II) 89 – mounted on palo (I) 281, 282 pl. 96, 283, 284 pls. 97–98, 285, 286 pl. 99, 287, 318, 338, 384; (II) 91, 93, 170, 193, 195–196 fertility (I) 13, 51, 60, 122, 290, 297, 341, 489, 539, 552 fig. 22; (II) 97, 130 – and flowers (I) 47–48; (II) 312 – as goal of Srid-pa’i lha cult (I) 1, 13, 29, 516, 520, 525 – as g.yang for females (I) 50, 52–53, 545; (II) 159–160 – as tshe for males (I) 50–52, 53, 176; (II) 159–160 – associated with lha’s horse (I) 207, 293, 346, 355–356, 515, 521

Inde x

– from Gurzhe/Gu-se Lang-ling (I) 61–62, 297, 368–369 – in Qiang ritual culture (II) 158 – in ritual cultures of peoples speaking Bodo-Koch languages (I) 539; (II) 313 – of livestock (I) 15, 53–54, 381, 407, 408 pls. 133–134, 409, 536, 555; (II) 130 – of soil (I) 140, 192, 326, 539, 556 – of women, rites for (I) 55, 58, 91, 129–130, 326, 348–349, 368–369, 381; (II) 75, 235 –, patrilineal (I) 51–52, 445, 476, 486 –, ritual transmission of (I) 56–58, 71, 74, 129–130, 192, 207, 209, 287, 292, 293, 340, 347–348, 353, 356, 381, 390; (II) 169, 171, 173, 180, 184, 187 –, sky and its beings as source of (I) 51, 61–62, 64, 67, 176, 255, 356–357, 403, 503, 549, 552 fig. 22; (II) 146, 174, 192, 216 Ficus spp. (I) 401 fines (I) 158, 336, 444, 520 fir tree (I) 156, 283, 402; (II) 45, 266 fire → hearth – as element (I) 74, 98, 299, 471; (II) 181, 279 – deity (I) 98, 329, 471; (II) 157, 189 fig. 36 –, female identity of (I) 98–99, 471; (II) 157 – -fly (I) 109 – motif in ritual texts (I) 133, 147, 152, 493, 506; (II) 24 –, origins/theft of (I) 99, 109–110, 118–123, 215 pl. 73, 219, 222–223, 371; (II) 268, 365–366 –, rites related to (I) 99, 171, 258, 334, 345, 351, 360, 384, 437, 456, 486, 493, 540, 547; (II) 164 pl. 122, 165, 179, 185 –, zhel de ritual specialist for (I) 535; (II) 92 fish (I) 107, 120, 429, 502; (II) 11, 94, 281, 320 – and fishing (I) 29, 121, 425, 531, 533, 535, 558 – and mobile vitality (I) 50, 64, 72, 92 –, dietary taboo for (I) 289, 315, 390, 398; (II) 267 – offered during rites (I) 31, 158, 197, 450, 473, 475 plate 155, 477, 485–486, 489, 490 pl. 167, 533–537, 540–542, 549; (II) 91, 310–311 –, rites for availability of (I) 17, 531–542; (II) 310–311 flags (I) 105, 402, 437, 473, 475, 489 pl. 166, 510, 537; (II) 61, 79, 169 fig. 32, 178 figs. 34–35, 179 pls. 214–215, 179–181, 192 flea (I) 107, 109 flower(s) (I) 149; (II) 53, 55, 153, 213 → headgear – and altar design (I) 395 pl. 127, 397, 398 pl. 131, 403, 407, 409 pl. 135, 413, 538 pls. 186–187; (II) 310, 313 pl. 300 – as children of fire (I) 121 – as offering wand (I) 352 pl. 109, 353, 356 – as seat for lha (I) 58 pl. 4, 257, 260, 268, 396 pl. 130, 406–407, 413, 538 – associated with creation and vitality (I) 47–48, 543–544; (II) 53, 213 – offered to lha (I) 354 fly (I) 46 Four Groups of Little Humans (I) 76, 133, 239, 242; (II) 16–18 fumigation rite (I) 71, 121, 130, 137–138, 171, 187, 219, 220, 239, 283, 322, 334, 336, 341, 345, 350, 352, 371; (II) 169–170, 183, 185 – for white rock (II) 183, 185, 187–188 Ga-sdang (II) 140 Ga-thung (I) 540; (II) 249, 313–314 Gaenszle, Martin (I) 48, 123, 173, 252–253, 262 ’gal bon (I) 133, 135; (II) 14

Gal mdo (II) 32–33, 36 Galliformes (I) 73 Galo (I) 213 Gamri Chu (I) 32, 387; (II) 163, 164 pl. 211 Ganden Phodrang (I) 32–33, 35, 427, 498–499, 503, 513, 522, 531; (II) 232 Gang-par Ge-ber (I) 141; (II) 113 Ganga Chu (I) 400 Gangdung (II) 134 map 10, 135 Gangs-kyi gSum-tshi (I) 73 Gangs-ri dKar-po (II) 64, 277, 306 Gangzur (I) 94 pl. 12, 96 fig. 1, 97, 279–280, 533; (II) 254, 263 Gansu (I) 38, 103, 126, 148 pl. 35; (II) 22, 121 Gar-gsas (I) 245, 248 Gar-gsas bTsan-po (I) 329, 347; (II) 278–279 Gar-rgos-pa (II) 9 Gathang Bumpache (dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che maps) gCo (I) 134; (II) 123 gCo-mi (I) 104 fig. 2, 105; (II) 123 gCo’u (I) 104 fig. 2; (II) 123 gCo’u-mi (I) 104 fig. 2; (II) 123 gDung (I) 34, 37, 100, 464; (II) 106 → Dung – identities in Srid-pa’i lha cult (II) 138–141 –, meanings of name (II) 121–122 – migration (I) 395; (II) 115–116, 143–145 – origin narratives (I) 61, 72, 78, 91, 95, 312, 317, 368, 435; (II) 87, 109, 116, 125, 130 – toponyms (II) 138–141 gDung lineage(s) (I) 35–36, 98, 290, 390, 502; (II) 86, 118–119, 123, 125, 129, 156 –, Bemji (II) 133, 140–141 –, Buli dPon-po (II) 139 –, Go-leng (II) 140–141 –, gZhong-sgar (II) 116, 133 –, Ngang (II) 116–117, 133, 140 –, Nya-mkhar (II) 140 –, sTag-ma (II) 140–141 –, U-ra (I) 99, 422; (II) 116–117, 133, 137 gDung-dkar (II) 138 → gDung-dkar Jo-bo gDung-dkar Jo-bo (II) 289 gDung-mtsho (II) 123 gDung-mtsho Karma-thang (II) 123 gDung-mtsho sKar-ma-thang (II) 123 gDung-phu Rong (II) 138 Ge-khod (I) 137 Ge-sar (I) 168, 346; (II) 139 Ge-thung (I) 85 genealogy (I) 22, 49, 69, 83, 92, 132, 141, 159, 174, 223, 247, 373, 501, 522; (II) 85, 88, 115, 143, 217, 269 – and genealogical patronymic linkage system (I) 373 –, cosmo- (I) 62, 69, 367 – in Rgyal rigs (I) 40, 91, 501, 522; (II) 86, 101, 105, 112–113, 123, 139, 305 –, lHa Bug-pa-can (II) 107, 109 – of bon shamans (I) 173–177, 244; (II) 35, 139 – of gNya’-khri bTsan-po (I) 104 fig. 2; (II) 139

469

Source of Life

– of gShen-rab (I) 154 – of ritual plants (I) 71, 136, 219, 239, 248–250; (II) 268 –, Phywa (I) 95, 247; (II) 122 –, Srid-pa’i lha (I) 95, 246, 367, 440; (II) 13, 16–17, 19–21, 315 Geng La (I) 312, 330 fig. 12, 332; (II) 92, 119, 120 map 9 Gephu (also Gyephu) (I) 318, 433–435 → rGyal-phu Gerze Dzong (II) 63 Gi La (I) 329 Gila (I) 428, 429 fig. 15, 430, 437, 444, 446–447, 492; (II) 103 Gkâw-là-ts’ú’ (II) 219, 226 → Gkow-la-tsu gkó-ndû (II) 197 Gkow-la-tsu (II) 156, 219, 226 Glang-ru Nor-bu Tshe-ring (I) 38 Gling-drug (II) 56, 59 glud → ransom Glud-’gong (I) 139 gnam bon (I) 107, 150; (II) 111 gnam gyi lha (I) 21, 80, 82, 88 gnam lha (I) 80, 82, 91; (II) 116, 125 gnam sa (I) 314; (II) 13, 110 gnam sman (II) 80 gNam-’dir-zhe (I) 317 → gNam-’dor-zhe gNam-’dor-zhe (I) 96 fig. 1, 97, 317; (II) 93, 146 → Namdorzhe gNam-gsas (I) 248 gNam-gsas bTsan-po (I) 329 gNam-gsas Khyung-rung (I) 347; (II) 278–279 gNam-lha’i Gu-ru-zhe (I) 317 → Gurzhe gNam-sa (I) 313, 318, 343, 502, 510, 535 fig. 21; (II) 87, 89–91, 93, 96, 99–100, 107, 109–116, 119, 128, 133–136, 138–139, 146, 287, 315–316 gNam-sa ’Bang (II) 112 gNam-sgo mTsho (I) 78 gNam-skas Brag (I) 66 gNam-spu (II) 108 gNam-then-che (I) 69 gNam-yel (I) 66 gNubs gshen Rum-po (II) 13 gNya’-khri bTsan-po (I) 61, 65–67, 69, 71, 81, 83, 87, 93, 104 fig. 2, 105, 107, 109, 154, 175–176, 212, 247, 510; (II) 112, 115, 123, 139 gNyal (I) 535; (II) 96, 251 gNyal-stod (II) 109 gnyan (I) 90; (II) 24, 26, 28 fig. 24, 30, 48, 273 gnyan bon (I) 148 pl. 35, 149 Gnyan ’bum (I) 18, 126, 149; (II) 36, 111 gNyan-gzung-btsan (II) 108 gnyen bon (II) 30 go ba’i lha (I) 100, 198, 247; (II) 48 go-between → messenger –, bat as (I) 76, 103, 360, 403; (II) 141–142, 146, 149, 233, 242, 245 –, bird as (I) 76, 108, 403, 435; (II) 184, 233, 245 –, changnyerpa as (I) 489 –, flying sheep as mount of (I) 186 –, horse as (II) 187, 233 –, insect as (I) 123; (II) 233, 245

470

–, sheep as (II) 146, 172, 242 –, spider as (I) 123 –, ston pa gShen-rab as (I) 403, 405 Go-leng (II) 140 goat (I) 422; (II) 193 – meat taboo (I) 171, 298, 443–444; (II) 267 – hair and skin garments (I) 196 pl. 57, 197, 321 –, sacrifice of (II) 158, 178–179, 181 –, wild species of (I) 139, 140 pl. 27, 341, 534; (II) 158, 177, 307 – words in Tibeto-Burman languages (II) 153, 309, 317 Goldstein, Melvyn (II) 51 Goleng (II) 139, 141, 259, 267 gomchen (I) 29, 153, 165, 166, 315, 385, 545, 558; (II) 79 Gongduk (I) 93; (II) 117 Gongdukha (I) 28 map 2, 30, 86, 150, 168, 389, 505; (II) 256 Gönpakab (I) 209, 385; (II) 315 goral (II) 322 → Naemorhedus; → Yizhin Norbu – as kha sha (I) 54 –, red (I) 139 –, rites involving (I) 341–345, 348–349, 534; (II) 177–178 – skin garment (I) 140 pl. 26 Gorichen (I) 547 Gortshom (I) 135, 219; (II) 23, 255, 267 Gos-dkar-mo (I) 469 Grag-mo Gling-chen (I) 365 Grags pa gling grags (I) 134, 144, 157; (II) 265 Grags-pa Bon-lugs (I) 41, 134–135, 154, 175; (II) 65, 306 Graham, David Crockett (I) 116, 227; (II) 155, 157–159, 165–166, 178 fig. 34, 179, 183, 188, 190 fig. 37, 190 pl. 222, 193, 203 fig. 39, 206 Grang-bya (I) 96 fig. 1, 97, 439 Grang-bya-mo (I) 48, 53, 96 fig. 1, 97–98, 439, 534, 546 Grang-bya Zhog-mo (I) 96 fig. 1, 97 Grang-bya Zhogs-ge (II) 94, 263 Grang-kyi g.Yu-mtsho (I) 96 fig. 1, 371–372 Grang-ma dPal-gyi bTsun-mo (I) 361–362 Grang-mo (I) 97, 439 Grang-mo gNam gSer-brtsig (I) 97 Grangthungpa (I) 264 fig. 9 grasshopper (I) 123 Gred (II) 95, 264 → Khet Gri-gu (II) 107, 119 Gri-gu mTsho (II) 107, 109 Gri-khu (II) 107 Gro-mo (I) 39 Grogs-po Bya-dkar (I) 122 Grong-mo-che (I) 97, 116 Grong-phyugs-’rdzi (II) 94, 263 Gru-shul (I) 40, 131, 132 map 5, 135, 154, 309; (II) 10, 13–14, 65, 96, 111, 116, 119, 124, 129, 136, 306 Grus nigricollis (black-necked crane) (I) 73–74 gSang-ba Bon-lugs (I) 95, 104 fig. 2; (II) 112, 125, 315 gSang-chen Ngo-bo (I) 152 gsas → auxiliary being(s) gsas khrom (II) 195–198

Inde x

gSas-rje (I) 248 gSas-rje dMar-po (I) 329, 347; (II) 278–279 gSer-lcam Nyag (II) 46 gSer-yul (II) 46, 48 fig. 25 gSer-yul gSer-stod (II) 46 gshang → bell gshang dril chen (I) 203 gshang khri lo skad snyan (I) 149, 203 gshang khro mo dril chen (I) 203 gshen (I) 19, 38, 51, 70, 145–150, 176; (II) 11–14, 16–18, 51, 71, 72 fig. 27, 128, 195, 242, 245, 251 → auxiliary being(s); → gShen-rab Mi-bo; → Ya-ngal Gyim-kong gshen bon (I) 150, 421; (II) 11 gshen bu (II) 11–12 gshen lha (I) 168, 244; (II) 11, 89 gshen po (I) 168 gShen-bu rGyal-tsha (I) 175; (II) 11 gShen-lha mGon-po (II) 89 gShen-lha ’Od-dkar (I) 248, 329; (II) 125, 279 gShen-lha Thod-dkar (I) 260, 317, 398–399, 402–403; (II) 125 gShen-rab Mi-bo (also gShen-rab) (I) 104, 118, 300, 447; (II) 111 → g.Yungdrung Bon; → ston pa – as gshen ritual specialist (I) 53–54, 84, 117, 133, 138, 145–150, 185, 326, 353–355, 362, 365, 392–393, 403, 405–406, 412; (II) 7, 18, 24, 202 –, bon (I) 271; (II) 277 –, iconography of (I) 142, 146 pl. 33, 147–148, 149 fig. 4, 150 – in ecclectic Bon rgyud narrative (I) 151–154 –, local representations of (I) 154–158, 168; (II) 104 –, pha (I) 103, 146 –, pha jo (I) 146; (II) 17–18 –, yab cig (I) 53, 146, 402 gShen-rab Myi-bo (also gShen-rabs kyi Myi-bo) (I) 135, 147; (II) 195 → Lagpa’i mThing-ge Ning-ge –, gshen (I) 149–150 –, pha (I) 107, 149–150, 201, 203; (II) 74, 311 gshin rje (I) 412 gson ma (II) 45–46 gTam-shul (I) 14–15, 38–39, 65–66, 70–71, 76, 93, 98, 131, 132 map 5, 147, 175, 201, 218, 249, 277; (II) 3, 10–11, 13, 16, 34, 39–40, 65, 106, 113, 119, 121, 124, 129, 132, 201, 218–219, 221, 241, 302 pl. 288, 306 gter bdag (I) 167, 315, 317 gter ma (I) 88, 167, 434; (II) 3, 8, 35–37, 115, 135 gter ston (I) 24, 66, 153, 315; (II) 8, 32, 34 gTo-chen (II) 30 gTo-tsha (II) 30 gTsang (I) 135, 333; (II) 35, 117, 120–121, 195 – as clan name (II) 88, 113, 146 → gTsang-mo; → rTsang gTsang Chu (I) 400 gTsang La-smad (I) 332–333 → rTsang-smad gTsang La-stod (I) 332–333 → rTsang-stod; → Kha-la rTsang-stod gTsang-mdzes-ma (I) 120 gtsang mi (ritual specialist) (I) 257, 289, 314, 360, 443, 504, 542 → tsangmi; → tsam gTsang-mo (I) 78; (II) 108, 288–289

gTsang-po River (I) 256; (II) 1, 117, 215, 217 gTsang-stod (II) 75 gTsug (I) 80 gTsug-gi sKos-rgyal (I) 266–267 Gu (I) 81, 92; (II) 113, 156, 218 Gu La (II) 116, 157, 218 Gu-ru (II) 289 Gu-ru Chos-dbang (I) 40, 66, 315 Gu-ru-zhe (I) 317, 402; (II) 94, 98, 263 → Gurzhe Gu-se (I) 81–82, 168; (II) 155–157 → Gu-se Lang-ling Gu-se Lang-ling (I) 37, 61, 78, 91–93, 95, 98, 104 fig. 2, 231, 290, 297; (II) 306 – as Dung ancestral being (II) 116, 123 – as fertiliser of women (I) 62, 297, 368–369 –, etymology and origin of name (I) 81–82, 92–93; (II) 112–113 Gu-zi (II) 156 Gung-dang (II) 27, 48, 64–65 → Gung-thang; → lHa-yul Gung-thang Gung-gzigs (I) 61 Gung-thang (I) 133, 371; (II) 25, 48, 59, 65, 93 → lHa-yul Gung-thang Gunglha (I) 139, 256, 259 Gurung (also Tamu) (I) 5–6, 47, 123, 221–223, 229, 262, 510, 548; (II) 20, 78 fig. 28, 78 pl. 208, 79, 109 – language (II) 12, 70, 79 guruzhe (I) 168 Gurzhe (I) 82, 91, 231, 290, 317, 321, 546, 553 → Gu, Gu-se, Gu-se Lang-ling – and local deities (I) 319, 353 – as fertiliser of women (I) 62, 297, 368–369 –, form and origin of name (I) 81, 168, 317; (II) 155–157 –, iconography of (I) 90 pl. 11, 91, 317, 339, 514 –, journey from sky and back by (I) 325–326, 330 fig. 12, 331–332, 348, 382–383, 398–399, 400 fig. 14, 401–404 –, siblings of (I) 95, 96 fig. 1, 97, 317–318 –, sifu/seefu children named after (I) 373, 410 Gvmeu (I) 49, 262, 403 Gwa-thung (I) 540; (II) 249, 313 → Ga-thung g.Yag-lha (I) 303, 555–556 g.Yag-mchod (I) 555 g.Yag-gsas Ngar-ba (I) 251 g.yang → life; → women – and game animals (I) 50–51, 53–54, 185–186, 351, 545 – and tshe as gendered pair (I) 50–51; (II) 159–160 – and livestock (I) 52–54, 85, 147, 365, 381, 381, 405, 407–408, 520 – and sheep, wool (I) 47, 84, 185–187, 299; (II) 172 g.yang bon (I) 168; (II) 22 g.yang dar (I) 84, 116, 147 g.yang len (I) 420 g.Ye (II) 217 → g.Ye-mo g.Ye-mo (I) 319; (II) 96 → E-mo; → E-mo Yul-drug g.yen (I) 134; (II) 30 → srid pa’i g.yen dgu – bon (II) 30 – dgu (nine) (II) 24–26, 28 fig. 24, 29–30, 34–35, 48 – ’dre (II) 30 – khams (I) 134 –, sa (I) 134 – sde (II) 30

471

Source of Life

Gyephukhar (I) 435 → rGyal-phu-mkhar Gyer-sgom (also Gyer-sgom Chen-po) (I) 151–152 Gyi-thing (I) 363 → Kyi-mthing Gyim (also Gyim-po) (I) 132–134; (II) 35, 217–218 Gyim Pang-ma’ (I) 132; (II) 217 Gyim-bza’, ’O-lo (I) 132–133; (II) 217, 344 Gyim-kong (I) 135 → Ya-ngal Gyim-kong Gyim-po Nyag-cig (I) 133 Gyim-tsha rMa-chung (II) 35 Gyim-yul Gyim-stod (I) 132–133 g.Yo-gdung (II) 117 → g.Yo-gdung Wang-ma g.Yo-gdung Wang-ma (II) 112 g.Yo-ru (II) 112, 251 Gyps tenuirostris (slender-billed vulture) (II) 311 g.Yu-’brug sNgon-mo (I) 471 g.Yu-grogs-po (I) 465; (II) 206 g.Yu-rung Bon (I) 20, 131, 151, 154; (II) 10–11, 13–15, 95, 97, 124 g.Yung-drung Bon (I) 18–20, 60, 84, 93–94, 129–130, 151, 175, 179, 252, 367, 506; (II) 10–11, 15, 97, 115, 124–125 → Grags pa gling grags; → Gzer mig; → Gzer myig; → Gzi brjid; → ston pa – and rDo-rje Gling-pa (I) 153–154 – as religion, distinct from Srid-pa’i lha cult (I) 14–16, 118, 137–138, 244, 300; (II) 2, 37–38, 245–246 –, bon theg pa rim dgu in (I) 15; (II) 7, 11, 19, 33, 37 –, iconography of (I) 84, 129, 144–145, 147, 148 pl. 34, 149, 187, 189 pl. 40 –, innovation with earlier cultural materials in (I) 80, 108–109, 122, 129, 245, 276, 278, 420–421, 452; (II) 21, 30–37, 40–41 –, methodological problems with study of (I) 3–4, 19, 24–25, 39; (II) 3, 29, 33, 41, 214 –, sel rites in (I) 108, 130; (II) 33 –, ston pa gShen-rab Mi-bo in (I) 108, 118, 145, 152, 154; (II) 30 – traces in southernmost Central Tibet (I) 39; (II) 8, 32 –, tshan rite in (I) 137–138 –, Ya-ngal Gyim-kong in (I) 134–135 gza’ (I) 185; (II) 25, 28 fig. 24, 48 Gzer mig (I) 39, 80, 134; (II) 30–31 Gzer myig (I) 39–40, 148 pl. 34, 185, 189 pl. 40, 199, 200 pl. 58; (II) 30, 193, 194 pls. 225–227, 195–198, 200 pl. 233, 201–202, 209, 211 pl. 245, 245, 279 gZham-gling (II) 99 gZhong-mi (II) 99, 192, 134 map 10 → bZhong-mi gZhong-sgar gDung (II) 116, 133 gZhung-btsan-lde (II) 108 Gzi brjid (I) 80, 108–109, 112, 115, 120, 122, 140, 271; (II) 21–22, 30, 32–33, 140 fig. 30, 142 gZi-ldan-ma (I) 119 gZigs-gsas Thig-le (I) 251 Ha (I) 381; (II) 255 Hà (II) 160, 345 Hà-yî-dzî-boâ-p’èr (I) 113, 114 pl. 16, 117, 122–123, 129; (II) 149 Haarh, Erik (II) 122 Habon (II) 145, 255 Haeckel, Ernst (I) 114 → Kunstformen der Natur

472

hami (bon shaman) (I) 167, 541–542; (II) 255 Han (II) 222 hangui (I) 227–228 Har-kyi-pho (II) 477 Hardman, Charlotte (I) 49, 180 Hazod, Guntram (I) 20–21, 41, 97, 439; (II) 107, 121 He (II) 109 headgear → bya ru; → monkey; → Naxi dtô-mbà; → peacock; → wool – and auxiliary beings (I) 173, 184–185, 191, 195, 197, 205, 219, 244–245, 250, 252, 464–465, 466 pl. 148, 479, 492, 506 –, badger skin (I) 138–141 –, bal thod (I) 184–185, 321, 465, 513; (II) 28, 198–199 –, bamboo used for (I) 185, 191, 193, 283, 465 –, chaybo (I) 142 pls. 30–31, 143–144; (II) 202 –, feathers on ritual specialist (I) 142 pls. 30–31, 144, 184–185, 191, 192 pl. 45, 193, 194 pl. 52, 195 pls. 53–54, 197, 464–465, 466 pl. 148, 479, 492, 493, 505, 509 pl. 175, 510, 511 fig. 20; (II) 196 fig. 38, 196 pl. 228, 197, 199 pl. 230, 201–202, 206, 313 pl. 300 –, flowers used for (I) 83, 187, 189 pls. 41–42, 510, 511 fig. 20; (II) 206 –, jar tä (II) 202, 203 pls. 234–235, 203 fig. 39, 206 –, jari (I) 191, 192 pls. 45–46, 193, 195, 197, 505, 514, 516 pl. 180 –, keng guthung (II) 313 pl. 300 – of lha (I) 83, 90 pl. 11, 91, 94 pl. 12, 348, 364 –, rigs lnga (I) 184–185, 192, 197, 321–323, 331, 337, 448, 464–465, 466 pl. 148, 479, 492, 506; (II) 198 pl. 229, 199 –, shelha thekar (I) 188 pls. 38–39, 260, 398 –, shogar (I) 187, 191–192, 193 pls. 47–49 –, silk used for (I) 91, 184–185, 187, 268, 465, 495 –, thod dkar (I) 83, 150, 183 184, 187, 190–191, 393 –, tsitpa shamu/shamo (I) 184, 186 pls. 36–37, 465 –, turban and turban-like (I) 58 pl. 4, 83, 90 pl. 11, 91, 94 pl. 12, 108, 183–195, 197, 237, 260, 267–268, 354, 404, 406–408 –, zho Asha (I) 184, 195, 196 pl. 55, 321–322, 331, 513; (II) 198 pl. 229, 199, 201, 228 hearth (I) 213, 219, 273; (II) 189, 232–233 → thab bon; → thab lha – as abode of ancestors (I) 98, 136, 209, 484; (II) 157 –, drying rack above (I) 99, 120, 285, 415, 484, 486, 491; (II) 171, 175 –, female deities of (I) 85, 98–99, 415; (II) 157–158 –, lha[’i] thab ritual (I) 329; (II) 91–93, 329 –, messenger bat hiding around (I) 116, 120–121 –, pollution and purification of (I) 103, 133, 135–136, 171, 187, 239, 362–363, 397; (II) 21, 26, 268 –, rites at (I) 17, 54, 56, 57 pl. 3, 209, 285–286, 329, 415, 448, 484–486, 493, 540; (II) 91–93, 165, 171, 191 –, seating order around (I) 484–486, 491; (II) 235 – stones (I) 98–99, 136, 225, 358; (II) 157, 319 – tripod (I) 136, 220–222; (II) 91–93, 157, 189, 319 Hemitragus jemlahicus (Himalayan thar) (I) 534 Henkha/Nyenkha (I) 29, 231, 232 pl. 86; (II) 257 hereditary (I) 37, 78, 320, 390, 426, 444, 486, 499, 525, 554; (II) 127, 145, 241, 246 – and auxiliary beings (I) 173–177, 244, 246, 299, 442, 465; (II) 159, 193 – and secret spells (I) 331 – disposition to be a shaman (I) 176

Inde x

– blacksmiths (I) 220 – bon shamans (I) 16, 67, 80, 97, 99, 127, 155–156, 163, 166–167, 169–179, 183, 197, 199, 201, 205, 227, 228 pl. 82, 237, 241, 263, 275, 279, 281, 310, 319, 321–322, 381, 390, 430, 441–443, 497, 501–502, 504–505, 507, 513, 523, 529, 540, 541, 543, 545–546, 553, 555, 557; (II) 11, 35, 106, 111, 139–140, 163, 168, 204 pls. 236–237, 207, 228, 253–255, 257, 259, 261–262 – Buddhist lineage (I) 153, 427 – g.Yung-drung Bon lineage (I) 135 – monarchy (I) 387 – possession of shaman equipment (I) 79, 223–225, 326, 389 – ritual specialists (I) 94, 131, 140, 150, 157, 168, 177, 197, 271, 304, 429, 513; (II) 124, 149, 152 – ritual sponsors (I) 17, 54, 57 pl. 3, 165, 205, 207, 217, 256, 266, 289, 290, 312–313, 323, 327, 373, 385, 394, 437, 542–543, 556–557, 559; (II) 85, 138, 141, 143, 144 map 11, 145, 191–192, 253 – social status (I) 30, 34–35, 280, 314, 388, 425, 428, 499, 556; (II) 139, 141, 143 – worship community defined (I) 253 heron (also egret) (II) 311 Hexi Corridor (I) 38, 103, 252, 451; (II) 22, 249, 251 Hill, Nathan (II) 46 Himalayan thar (I) 534 → Hemitragus jemlahicus Hipposideridae (Old World leaf-nosed bats) (I) 114 → bat hMa (II) 107, 226 Ho-p’ing-chai (II) 158 Höfer, András (I) 5, 163, 173, 176, 245, 290, 299, 548–549 Hoffmann, Helmut (II) 194 pl. 227, 195 Hoongla (I) 173–176, 193 pls. 147–149, 499, 516, 519–520, 522; (II) 261, 267 horn (musical instrument) (I) 183, 223, 244, 353, 355, 358 – blower (also umkha, umpa) (I) 202 pl. 59, 205, 206 pls. 62–63, 207, 209, 211, 237, 274, 279, 281, 289, 322, 546 –, bovine (I) 203, 205, 207, 209, 211–212, 299 –, buffalo (I) 203, 322 – compared with shaman’s drum (I) 198, 203, 205, 207, 209, 211 –, deity dwelling in or on (I) 207, 208 pl. 65, 209, 211, 258 –, dispensing liquids with (I) 210 pls. 68–69, 211, 382, 546 – featured in narratives (I) 75, 151, 198, 209, 342–344 – in rites for ancestors and auxiliaries (I) 198, 207, 209, 211–212, 286 pl. 99, 287, 299, 330, 334–335, 341, 345; (II) 146 –, mithun (I) 205 – of eastern Himalayan shamans (I) 209, 211 pl. 70, 212; (II) 149 –, special treatment of (I) 205, 206 pl. 64, 207, 209, 260 pl. 92, 285, 287, 322, 329; (II) 187 – stick (I) 207, 208 pl. 66, 209, 210 pl. 67, 274, 352, 540 – toponym (I) 343 –, words for (I) 205, 209 –, yak (I) 205, 206 pl. 62, 207, 211–212 horse (also stallion) (I) 52, 85, 113, 248, 261, 274, 311, 323, 348, 361, 363, 385; (II) 40, 60–61, 66, 101, 177, 233–234, 281 → Lag-pa’i mThing-ge Ning-ge – and mi dkar rta dkar (I) 82–83, 91, 365, 405 – as mount of lha (I) 255, 264, 317, 321, 355, 364, 404–406, 514; (II) 25, 28 – as mount of mythical ritual specialists (I) 107, 150, 354 – as throne animal (I) 347, 466; (II) 278

– featuring in rites (I) 511, 512 pls. 176–177, 514 pl. 178, 517, 520; (II) 18, 27–29, 44, 48, 61–62, 130, 132, 161 –, flying, winged (I) 114, 129, 255; (II) 187 –, gsas (I) 150 –, lha (I) 107, 150, 521; (II) 27, 89, 187 –, mimicking of (I) 207, 208 pl. 65, 293, 355, 379 – phallus (I) 207, 346, 356, 379, 515, 521 –, psychopomp (I) 278; (II) 27–28, 61, 187 – racing (I) 511, 513, 520 –, white (I) 83–84, 91, 94 p. 110, 107, 122, 150, 317, 321, 364, 512 pl. 177, 514; (II) 187 Hoshina (I) 351, 487; (II) 174 house (as ritual space) (I) 70, 179 → door(s); → hearth; → ladder – attic, rites in (I) 17, 54, 415; (II) 192 – attic, shaman equipment stored in (I) 67–68, 205, 206 pl. 63, 207, 209, 217, 223, 287, 543; (II) 191 pl. 224 – beams (I) 85, 187, 206 pl. 64, 261, 188, 189 fig. 36 – deities (I) 84–85, 100, 188, 354–355, 415; (II) 188, 189 fig. 36 –, pho lha within (I) 85; (II) 188 –, pillar of (I) 273; (II) 188, 189 fig. 36, 236 –, rites performed within (I) 57 pl. 3, 64, 99, 256, 261, 285, 286 pl. 99, 287, 413, 414 pls. 137–139, 415 – roof (II) 158, 188, 190 fig. 37, 190 pls. 222–223, 191–193 –, rtse lha of (I) 85, 354; (II) 132 Hrusish (I) 31, 425, 247 Hruso (I) 31, 425 → Aka Hsing-shang-chai (II) 158 Hsu, Elisabeth (II) 225 Hu Chien-Min (II) 155 Hudum (I) 539 hunt (also hunting) (I) 123, 186, 207, 212, 244, 311, 336, 425, 516; (II) 62–63, 114, 117, 130, 136–137, 232, 242 → bear; → nawan; → phu – and hunter (I) 418–420, 460–461, 464, 544; (II) 105, 178 –, attitudes towards (I) 305, 351, 421–422, 531–532, 546; (II) 177 –, deity of (I) 98, 342, 535, 547; (II) 63, 178 –, mimicking of (I) 293, 543–547, 548 pl. 190, 549 – motif in narratives (I) 121, 342, 418–420, 433, 532, 534; (II) 7, 18 –, rites for success of (I) 306 map 7, 342–345, 487, 531–548; (II) 178 –, ritual (I) 343–344, 487, 533, 536–537; (II) 170 – trap (I) 344, 464, 534, 547; (II) 42, 77, 329 ibex (II) 307, 309 → Capra sibirica Idu Mishmi (I) 212, 262; (II) 79 igu (shaman) (I) 190 pl. 44, 191, 196 pl. 56, 211 pl. 70; (II) 197, 245 incense (I) 171, 219, 246, 257, 267, 334, 342–343, 345, 356, 378, 393, 398, 415, 443, 453, 456, 459, 475, 558 – brazier (I) 220, 237, 401, 407–408, 467 –, juniper as (I) 283 – narrative (I) 237–243, 329–330, 371, 268–276 –, nine types of (I) 121, 220, 239, 330; (II) 268 – pan (I) 220, 336, 341, 371, 401 – purification in bon la le’u dgu (I) 246; (II) 19 – rhododendron (I) 136, 250, 329, 364–365, 401 –, white (I) 267–269, 361–362

473

Source of Life

inheritance (I) 428, 434 – by daughters (I) 170, 313, 323, 557 insect (I) 217, 274 → specific insect names – as messenger (I) 105 – as trickster (I) 122–123 – embodying soul (I) 46, 124 pl. 21, 257, 548 intermediate space (I) 75, 87, 121, 322, 333, 401; (II) 30, 58 pl. 200, 59, 75, 80, 273 → Bar –, then stages of (I) 64, 69–70, 379, 402; (II) 180 iron (I) 89, 120–121, 299, 332, 420, 464, 480, 498; (II) 110, 242 → hearth; → sel – and west direction (I) 420, 471, 506; (II) 277 – arrowhead (I) 418 – bya ru (I) 505 – door (I) 263, 483; (II) 44, 180–181 – egg (I) 266, 371–372; (II) 63, 65 – hat (II) 197 – hearth tripod (I) 98, 136; (II) 319 –, lha of (I) 471 –, origin narratives of (I) 219–223, 371 – sman (I) 372 – throne (I) 331 Jackson, Anthony (II) 20, 167, 201, 236 Jacques, Guillaume (II) 237, 239 ’Jam-dbyangs Kun-dga’ Seng-ge (II) 134 Jamdung (II) 134 map 10, 135 Jamkhar Chu (lCam-mkhar Chu maps) (I) 27, 30, 81, 93, 119, 260, 304, 388–389, 397, 417, 422 Japthong (II) 102–103 Jaray Gewog (II) 145, 255 Jataka (I) 108–109 Jigme Dorji, King (I) 33, 556 Jinshajiang (II) 227 Jo-bo (I) 481, 499–503; (II) 87, 105–106, 109, 112, 115, 230, 289 Jo-jo lHa-sras (II) 18 Jo-ka (II) 140 jomo (I) 543 Jomo La (I) 463 Jomo Narang (I) 264 ’Jon-mo (II) 74, 311 Jongta (II) 141 Jumu (I) 99 → A-ma Jo-mo juniper (I) 68, 136, 167, 190, 237, 250, 267, 270, 283, 363–365, 367, 392–393, 395, 401; (II) 54–55, 56 pl. 197, 58, 68 pl. 26, 75, 168–170, 181, 184–185 Kalaktang (I) 99, 463; (II) 112 Kalepey (I) 96 fig. 1, 543, 254 Kāmī (II) 70 Kamla River (I) 193 Kangtö (Gangs-stod maps) (I) 537 Kapstein, Matthew (I) 32, 115 Karasatsen (I) 261 Karma Ura, Dasho (I) 33 Kāśyapasaṃhitā (II) 70

474

Kaykespa Thung (I) 264 fig. 9 kengpa (ritual specialist) (I) 17, 126, 223, 515, 539; (II) 9, 165, 206, 313 Kha-ba ʼOd-mkhar (II) 64 Kha-bang (II) 27 Kha-bing-mog (II) 94, 98–99, 263 Kha-brag Phug (I) 399 Kha-la rTsang-stod (I) 333; (II) 55, 59, 74 Kha-nag (I) 133–135; (II) 14 – as ethnonym (I) 426 Kha-ri-pa (II) 140 Kha-tshing (II) 95, 264 Khab-bla (I) 316 → Khablha; → Khab-lha Khab-bla-glang (I) 316; (II) 93–94, 263 Khab-lha (I) 316, 326 Khablha (I) 92, 309; (II) 253–254, 315 Khablhamet (I) 92, 316 Kham (I) 443, 500, 502–503; (II) 94, 264 Kham Magar (I) 5–6, 63; (II) 70 Khamachi (I) 500, 502–503, 505 → Kham Khams (I) 140, 153, 541; (II) 80, 120, 150, 223 Khar-mo Dril-chen (I) 365 ’Khar-phra’ Ngan-te (II) 94, 264 ’Khar-phu (II) 94, 263 Kharpu (I) 99, 119, 303–305, 355, 387–389, 391, 393, 407, 409, 421–422, 505; (II) 145, 256, 260 Kharteng (I) 499; (II) 100, 264 Khazhong (II) 141, 258 Kheng (I) 37, 45, 67, 85–86, 180, 184, 187, 197, 205, 213, 240, 291, 317, 388–391, 393–395, 398, 401, 403–405, 413, 417, 419, 421–422, 521; (II) 139, 141, 145, 192, 207 – Bjoka (I) 27, 81, 93, 214 pl. 71 – Buli (I) 107, 122, 139 – Chikor (I) 54–55, 81, 86, 93, 99, 119, 170, 205, 260, 269, 303, 305, 355, 387–391, 393, 395, 397, 407, 409, 413, 417, 421–422, 453, 545 – Nangkor (I) 304; (II) 141 Khengkha (I) 20, 29, 45, 81, 123, 169, 205, 231, 260, 262, 270, 343, 407, 409, 417, 422, 554; (II) 140, 153, 256, 258–260, 265 –, speakers of (I) 9, 30, 86, 270, 316–317, 388–389, 419, 532; (II) 246 Khet (I) 499; (II) 100, 264 Khetong (I) 135 Khiksaba festival (I) 31, 497, 538; (II) 103–104, 262, 313 khikzizi (ritual specialist) (I) 179; (II) 103, 267, 313 Khispi (I) 32 Kho (I) 436, 501; (II) 109, 157, 289 → Khu Kho-che (II) 140 Kho-Bwa cluster languages (I) 28 map 2, 30–32, 81, 425, 427, 447, 486, 538; (II) 120, 151, 162, 213, 248–249, 313 Kho-long (II) 92, 94, 100 → Kholong Chu Kho-mthing (I) 66; (II) 11, 106, 101, 263 Kholong Chu (Kho-long Chu maps) (I) 27, 97, 205, 209, 303, 316, 336, 387, 542; (II) 9, 86, 95, 98–99, 107, 119, 133, 135–136, 144, 187, 230, 346 –, lower (I) 30, 117, 305; (II) 101, 104 –, upper (I) 81, 91, 151, 198, 246, 309–312, 318, 336, 435, 534–535; (II) 89, 91, 96, 98–99, 112, 116, 123, 135, 159, 198, 229, 280, 305–306, 316

Inde x

Kholong Lungpa (Kho-long Lung-pa maps) Khoma (I) 63, 83, 84, 92–93, 94 pl. 12, 95 pl. 13, 96 fig. 1, 97, 98–99, 150, 171, 189 pl. 41, 195, 201, 205, 207, 209, 211, 275, 280, 293, 305, 351, 355, 365, 369, 394–395; (II) 11, 23, 77, 79, 157, 177, 192, 253–254, 263, 268 Khoma Chu (I) 9, 27, 33, 72, 81, 91, 112, 127, 151, 156, 168, 170, 180, 184, 187, 197–199, 241, 245–246, 276, 279, 283, 303, 309–319, 321, 333–338, 342, 367, 378, 384–385, 435, 486, 513, 533, 535; (II) 8–9, 16, 21, 76, 86, 89, 95–96, 98–100, 107, 112, 116, 119, 127, 133, 135–138, 144–145, 158–159, 162–163, 182, 187, 198–199, 201, 228–230, 277–278, 280, 302–303, 309, 316, 346 Khoma collective, of five villages (I) 53, 96 fig. 1, 97, 166, 309; (II) 253, 315 Khoma Dung (II) 137 Khomakang (I) 309–313, 319, 323–324, 333–334, 338, 384–385; (II) 192, 318 Khomakha (also Khoma dialect) (I) 279–280, 343; (II) 76, 139–140, 280, 317 → Dzala Khra-’brug (I) 93 Khri Do-re (II) 56, 305 Khri-dung (II) 95–96, 135–136 Khri-lcam Gling-mo-skar (II) 56 Khri-lde Srong-brtsan (II) 115 Khri-mo (I) 31, 501 Khri-mo-pa (I) 31, 501; (II) 289 Khris-nyar Khri-brtsun (II) 95 Khro-mo-brgyan (II) 83 → Khrom-ma-rgyan Khrom-ma-rgyan (I) 281, 283; (II) 196 ’Khrul-med Chen-po (I) 152 Khu (I) 31, 97, 343, 436, 501–502, 510, 535 fig. 21; (II) 87, 89–91, 93–94, 96, 99–100, 107–109, 112–116, 119, 128, 133–136, 138–139, 146, 156–157, 305, 309, 315–316 Khu bZang (I) 501 Khu-bo (II) 108 Khu-brang-zhe (I) 82, 535; (II) 90–91, 93, 98, 156 Khu-bza’ Khu-ma (II) 107 Khu-gtam (I) 461 Khu-mo (I) 445, 501–502, 505; (II) 287, 289 Khu-po (I) 444, 502 Khu-tsha Zla-’od (II) 8, 32, 36 Khu-yug Mang-skyes (II) 108 Khu’-zá’ (II) 156 Khum (I) 501; (II) 109, 287, 289 → Khu-mo Khumu (I) 501, 505; (II) 109, 287, 289 → Khu-mo Khyi-kha Ra-thod (I) 90–91 khyim lha (I) 85 Khyù-gú (I) 116 Khyù-t’khyú Ssù À’ (II) 234 Khyung (II) 17 Khyung gdung rabs (I) 501; (II) 106 , 115, 263 Khyung-mo (II) 289 Kipsidung (II) 135 Klo (II) 125, 127 Klo-pa (I) 426; (II) 230 Klo-skad (I) 127 klu (I) 79, 90, 108, 119–121, 354, 401, 405, 412, 421, 458–459, 462, 465–466, 469, 471, 479, 505; (II) 24–25, 28 fig. 24, 29–30, 36, 48, 54, 68 fig. 26, 79, 273, 344

klu bon (I) 150 Klu ’bum (I) 24; (II) 53, 111 Klu-bu Rin-cen (II) 55 Klu-ngu (II) 112 Klu-rab bZang-to-re (II) 305 Klub-gsas sGron-me (I) 251 Klung (II) 231 Ko-le-phra (II) 17 Kokonor Lake (II) 110 Konlo Pla Dakpa (I) 48, 343, 518; (II) 218, 261 Krime (also Khrime) (I) 31; (II) 289 Kula Kangri (sKu-bla Gangs-ri maps) Kulunge Rai (I) 54, 209, 211; (II) 187 Kun-lha mKha’-ri (I) 185 → sKu-bla Gangs-ri Kun-tu bZang-po (I) 152 Kunstformen der Natur (I) 114 Kupi and Kapi (I) 342–345 Kupilang (I) 318, 322, 324 fig. 10, 325–328, 333, 341–349, 351, 353, 356–357, 368, 370; (II) 158 Kuri Chu (sKu-ri Chu, Ku-ru Chu maps) (I) 62, 92, 138, 184, 199, 205, 209, 219, 254 fig. 8, 255, 266, 279, 280 pl. 95, 309, 311, 318, 381, 394, 451, 546; (II) 8, 14, 16, 23, 96, 99, 116, 118, 278 → Mon Ku-ru Lung-pa –, east bank of (I) 546; (II) 77, 100, 229 –, lower (I) 30, 124, 167, 317; (II) 145 –, mid (I) 135, 187, 246, 317, 387–388; (II) 126, 192 –, upper (I) 38, 120, 151, 187, 246, 334, 556; (II) 10, 77, 86, 100, 119, 145 –, west bank of (I) 27, 67, 86, 150, 303, 389, 407, 521, 541, 543; (II) 143, 145, 154, 213, 229, 247, 346 Kuri Lungpa (Ku-ru Lung-pa maps) Kurtö (I) 63, 81, 83, 93, 94 pl. 12, 95, 96 fig. 1, 97–99, 118, 120, 122, 127, 129, 130, 167, 187, 205, 207, 209, 254 fig. 8, 255, 273, 275–276, 291, 293, 303, 305, 309–311, 317–318, 321, 365, 369, 381, 395, 439–440, 481, 510, 534, 543, 545–546, 556–557; (II) 8, 11, 14, 23, 76–77, 86–87, 119, 133, 145, 158, 162–163, 169, 185, 191–192, 207, 229–230, 302, 346 Kurtöp (I) 3, 45, 48, 81, 96 fig. 1, 97, 276, 510, 554; (II) 2, 126, 183, 243, 254–255, 263 – influenced texts (I) 231, 232 pl. 84, 533; (II) 162 –, speakers of (I) 9, 29, 53, 97, 120, 279, 532, 541, 543, 545; (II) 126, 146, 213, 230, 246–248 – vocabulary and pronunciation (I) 45, 48, 81, 96 fig. 1, 97, 167, 187, 205, 213, 270, 273–274, 285, 293, 296, 337, 343, 379, 439, 440, 446, 543–544; (II) 79, 140 fig. 30, 153, 156–157, 162, 229, 284–285, 317, 321–324, 327, 329 Kværne, Per (I) 108, 144 Kyed-te-mag (I) 535; (II) 92–94 Kyi-mthing (also Kyi-thi, Kyi-thing) (I) 83, 133, 422 → dKyil-mthing; → Gyi-thing La Mo (II) 91, 119 La-chong (I) 95, 430, 438 pl. 142, 439–441, 443, 448, 452–453, 454 pl. 145, 456, 461, 472 fig. 19, 476, 485; (II) 290 La-chong Drag-po (I) 465 La-chung (I) 439 → La-chong La-mo Bom-thi (I) 462 La-mo Ko-le (I) 461

475

Source of Life

La-mo Reg-la (I) 462 La-mo Ri-gtsong (I) 461 La-mo sPu-ri (I) 461 La-mo sPun-gsum (I) 462 La-’og Yul-gsum (I) 191, 313, 498, 500; (II) 96, 99, 108–109, 119, 133, 138, 229–230, 263 Laog-Yulsum (La-’og Yul-gsum maps) Lab Zhomo (also Lab Zho-mo) (I) 339; (II) 155 Laber (I) 309–311, 322; (II) 228, 253 Labiatae (II) 237 ladder (I) 70, 383 – as lha shing (I) 70 – at gNam-skas Brag (I) 66 – in house as notched log (I) 67, 287, 414 pl. 139, 415; (II) 188–189, 190 pl. 223, 190 fig. 37, 191–192 –, model (I) 67, 68 pl. 9 – of Naxi life gods (I) 67, 68 pl. 10 – of rMu (I) 69, 361; (II) 21 –, sky world as (I) 66; (II) 17 – motif ubiquitous in highland narratives (I) 67 Lag-pa’i mThing-ge Ning-ge (I) 150 lake (I) 64, 105, 180, 219, 248, 318, 405, 433; (II) 44–45, 92, 109, 110, 121, 326 – as place of origin (I) 75, 77–78, 435; (II) 122–123, 156, 183, 344 –, Dung (II) 63, 121–123, 183 – of ma bdud (II) 24 – sman (I) 412; (II) 29, 34, 47, 60, 63, 64 –, subterranean (I) 89 Lalou, Marcelle (II) 28 Lam-’brangs (II) 94 Lamiaceae (II) 237 LaPolla, Randy (II) 155 lark (I) 74; (II) 311 Lawa (La-’og maps) (I) 62, 84, 150, 280 pl. 95, 304 map 6; (II) 16, 162, 189 fig. 36, 254, 267 → Pla festival; → plami –, ancestral deities of (I) 94 pl. 12, 95 pl. 13, 96 fig. 1, 97–98, 197 –, auxiliary deity rites from (I) 246–251 –, drum use at (I) 198 –, nawan rite at (I) 533–534 –, palo rite at (I) 281–287; (II) 196–197 –, social history of (I) 279–281, 315, 319; (II) 137, 139, 141, 315 –, spiral movement performance at (I) 377 pls. 121–123, 378 –, Spos rabs rite at (I) 237–243; (II) 268–274 lCags-lha (II) 222 lCags-rdo Nag-po (I) 121 lCang (II) 88, 113 lCang Ka-ber (II) 113 lDan-yul Kyid-’khar (II) 90 lDang-rgyan Dung-mtsho (II) 122 lDa’u-bzhi (I) 174; (II) 159 → Tho’u-zhe lDe (II) 35 lDe bon (also lde bon) (II) 35 lDe gshen rMun-bu (II) 35, 45, 72 fig. 27 lDe-bla Gung-rgyal (II) 205 lDe’u histories (I) 41, 176

476

lDe’u Jo-sras (I) 41 Lde’u jo sras (I) 154, 212; (II) 265 lDing-nga lDing-cung (I) 133 lDong (II) 17, 111 lDong Mi-nyag (II) 110 Lepcha (I) 66, 116, 122–123 → Rong Les tribus anciennes des marches sino-tibétaines (I) 6; (II) 214 le’u (I) 23; (II) 269 → bon la le’u dgu –, definition of (II) 9–10 le’u bon po (II) 9 le’u pa (I) 34, 126; (II) 9 Lévi-Strauss, Claude (I) 110 lha (II) 11 – ancestral sky deity (I) 16, 22, 48, 50, 61, 79, 80 – as post-mortem destination (II) 46–47, 48 fig. 25 – bird (I) 74, 393; (II) 79 –, definition of (I) 21–22, 80 – genealogy (I) 49; (II) 20–21 – horse (I) 107, 150; (II) 27 –, human procreation with (I) 61–63 – land (I) 66–67 –, nature’s response to descent of (I) 75 –, small off-spring of (II) 51–67, 68 fig. 26 – sheep (I) 393 – yak (I) 101, 205, 365, 453, 454 pl. 145 lha ’bab (I) 517 lha bon (I) 4, 18 → Lhabon; → lha bon po; → lha bon thod dkar – ritual specialist (I) 60–61, 89, 150, 156, 167–169, 177, 248, 267; (II) 22, 35 – rite (I) 19, 170, 187 lha bon po (I) 535; (II) 47 lha bon thod dkar (I) 150, 167, 185, 267 lha brang (also lhabrang) → pho brang – house of ceremonial group (I) 437, 442–446, 448–449, 450 fig. 18, 453, 454 pls. 145–146, 455 pl. 147, 456, 467, 484–487, 489, 491, 493 – hut of bon shaman (I) 325–327, 336, 358–359, 407 – shrine (I) 394, 395 pl. 127, 396 pl. 128, 397–398, 403, 407–409, 411, 415 lHa Bug-pa-can (II) 107, 109 lha mi → lhami lHa-mkhar Pho-’brang (II) 25 lha shing (I) 54, 67, 92, 204 pl. 61, 312, 318, 326, 332–333, 343, 345, 349–352, 356, 383, 511, 517–520; (II) 168 → sacred grove; → tree(s) –, bamboo as (I) 341, 342 pl. 107, 367 –, branches of (I) 71, 258 pl. 89, 381, 473, 486; (II) 169, 171, 179, 184 –, Chandosing as (I) 519 – cited in ritual texts (I) 354, 365, 367 – in or forming sacred grove (I) 56–57, 70–71, 129, 256–257, 324 fig. 10, 350, 394, 542–544; (II) 77, 179 pl. 215, 184, 187 – incorporated into altar/shrine (I) 351, 395 pl. 127, 473, 476 pl. 156; (II) 169 –, juniper (shug pa) as (I) 367, 393, 395, 401; (II) 75, 184 –, objects hung from (I) 62, 71, 258, 521 – rTing-dkar (I) 365 –, sacrifice tethered to (I) 352, 542 –, shargremshing (Viburnum cylindricum) as (I) 204, 473, 486, 538 –, symbolic equivalents of (I) 47, 57, 70–71, 257

Inde x

– termed pcha shing (I) 129; (II) 185 pl. 218, 187 – termed pla shing (I) 378 Lha-btsun Lag-skos (I) 266 lHa-bu ’Brang-kar (II) 56 lHa-bu lHa-sras (I) 248–249 lHa-ka’o-che Mo-ka’o-che (I) 316; (II) 92 lHa-mchong-ma (I) 281 lHa-mo brTan-ma (II) 306 lHa-mtsho dKar-mo (II) 64 lHa-rdo dKar-po (I) 121 lHa-rgya-ri (II) 124, 217 lHa-sman ’Phrul-mo (II) 56 lHa-sras gTsang-ma (I) 40, 430–431, 434, 498–499; (II) 87, 102, 229 lHa-sras lHa-bo-che (II) 63 lHa-sras sKyes-cig (II) 64 lHa-yul Gung-thang (I) 66, 133, 371; (II) 28, 48, 59, 65, 93 lHa-za Dril-bu Sil-bu-sman (II) 47 lHa-za Gang-cig-ma (II) 63 lha’i bu (bon sub-shaman) (I) 62, 177, 204, 326–327, 338, 341, 344, 346, 349, 358–360, 360, 369, 374 pl. 118, 378–379, 383–384, 413, 555; (II) 12, 75 – and auxiliary beings (I) 197, 204, 278–279, 399, 448 – as bro pa or bro performers (I) 197, 204, 291–293, 294 pl. 101, 295 pl. 102, 296, 391, 407, 411, 415, 442, 447, 466 pl. 148, 478 pl. 159, 479–481, 485, 507 – as mythical designation (I) 62, 91, 290 – cited in ritual texts (I) 348, 399, 402, 461, 465–466, 469, 471, 478, 483 –, costumes of (I) 197, 321–323, 466 pl. 148, 479–481 – dressed as women (I) 415, 416 pls. 140–141, 417 –, hereditary or social obligation to be (I) 197, 290, 322, 442–443 –, lha’i bu mo as female form of (I) 274, 290; (II) 75 – on ritual hunt (I) 344, 533–534 – on ritual journey with shaman (I) 399–404 –, pcha’i bu as variant of (I) 274 lha’i lcam (also pcha’i lcam, pla’i lcam) (I) 190 pl. 43, 237, 269, 274, 285, 287, 296–297, 298 pl. 103, 322, 378, 417, 542, 552 fig. 22 Lhabon (II) 141, 257–259 Lham Dorji (I) 37; (II) 141 lhami (bon shaman) (I) 319, 320 pl. 105, 321–323, 325–338, 341, 343–345, 347, 349, 351–355, 358–360, 367–373, 374 pl. 118, 375–379, 383–384, 505, 535, 542; (II) 192, 198 pl. 229, 211, 228, 253, 260, 265, 282 Lhasa (lHa-sa maps) (I) 40, 88, 139–140, 430, 524; (II) 232, 344 Lhau → Pla (festival) – bon po (I) 191, 192 pls. 45–46, 197, 447, 497, 499, 501–503, 504 pl. 171, 505, 506 pl. 172, 507, 509, 514, 516 pl. 180, 517–523, 525, 529; (II) 163, 261, 267 –, early research at (I) 36, 497 –, social history of (I) 498–504 Lhau Khamba (I) 500, 503–505; (II) 100 → Lhau Lhazangmey (I) 324 fig. 10, 326, 370, 374 pl. 118, 375, 376 pls. 119–120, 378–379, 380 pl. 123, 382 pls. 124–125, 383 Lhε (II) 113–114 Lhem-bu (II) 93 lHo (social identity) (I) 92–93, 141, 464, 500, 535 fig. 21; (II) 47, 74, 87–88, 96–101, 107, 112–114, 128, 146, 228, 306 → lHo’u; → Mon clans

lHo (region, cardinal direction) (I) 242, 402; (II) 74, 277 lHo bon Mon bon Thod-dkar (I) 93, 184; (II) 35, 112 lHo bon ’Ol-lcogs (I) 93 lHo Dung (II) 117–118, 127, 137 → Dung lHo Dung-mtsho sKar-ma-thang (II) 122 lHo Mon (II) 120 lHo rje Lang-ling (I) 93; (II) 112 lHo rNgegs (II) 108, 114 lHo-brag (I) 37, 39, 62, 76–77, 93, 151, 153, 175, 184, 212, 246, 254 fig. 8, 300, 311–312, 435–436, 510, 535; (II) 1–3, 8, 34–35, 39, 49, 65, 71, 74–76, 82, 85–88, 96–97, 106, 108, 112–113, 115–118, 119, 125, 127, 129–130, 131 fig. 29, 132, 135, 137, 145, 198, 215, 217, 218 pl. 250, 219, 220 pls. 251–253, 221, 223, 229, 243, 303, 305–306, 309 –, eastern (I) 38, 40, 65, 154, 309; (II) 10, 98, 124 –, imperial era troops from (II) 251 –, passes into Bhutan from (I) 85, 269; (II) 119, 120 map 9 –, southern (I) 66, 255; (II) 10, 14, 153 lHo-brag Chu (II) 119 lHo-brag Khom-’thing (II) 90 lHo-brag mKhar-chu (I) 66 lHo-brag Shar (I) 535 fig. 21; (II) 111, 118 lHo-brag Shar Chu (II) 96, 119, 132, 220 pls. 251–252, 212, 302, 309 lHo-bu Lang-ling (I) 464; (II) 112 lHo-ga (I) 184; (II) 65, 74, 306, 310–311 lHo-ga Lang-drug (I) 184; (II) 112 → lHo-ga Lang-grug lHo-ga Lang-grug (I) 130; (II) 47, 306 lHo-kha (II) 35 lHo-mon Shar-nub sTod-smad (also lHo-mon) (I) 427, 499 lHo-rgyal Byang-mo-tsun (II) 74 lHo-za Dril-bu Sil-sil-sman (II) 47 Lhodrak (lHo-brag maps) Lhodrak Shar chu (lHo-brag Shar Chu maps) Lhoka (II) 126 → lHo-kha Lhop (II) 117 Lhopo (II) 1 lHo’u (I) 500, 535; (II) 100, 112 → lHo lHo’u rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re (II) 92–93 Li-chiang (II) 177 Li-thang (II) 223 life → mobile vitality principle → phya; → pla; → soul; → tshe – and genealogical link with lha ancestor (I) 48–49 – based on mobile vitality principle (I) 17, 45–47 – (or soul) basket (I) 47, 52, 57, 213, 260 pl. 92, 273–274, 543; (II) 168, 231, 235 pl. 259, 236 pl. 260 – cheese (I) 58 pl. 4, 450, 451 pls. 143–144, 473, 475 pl. 155; (II) 170, 175 – defined as tshe (I) 50-51 – force (srog) (I) 47, 146–147, 239, 419, 543; (II) 184 – powers or vitality (g.yang, ’o, phya, tshe) (I) 50–53, 88; (II) 26–27, 159–161 Limbu (II) 12 Lingdung (I) 96 fig. 1, 309; (II) 135, 253, 315 Lish (also Lishpa) (I) 32, 193, 426, 463 → Khispi Lizu (II) 153 lJang-legs-mo (I) 469 lo mchod (I) 315, 385, 545

477

Source of Life

Lo rgyus (II) 87, 101, 133, 263 Lo-ngam (II) 205 Lo-pu-chai (II) 158, 191 Lo-ro (I) 430; (II) 113, 136 Lo-ro Chu (I) 144 Löffler, Lorenz (II) 80 Lohorung Rai (I) 49, 180 Longdo Chu (II) 119 Longkhar (I) 312–314, 319, 337–338, 384; (II) 187, 229, 253, 260 Lop Nor (II) 47 lTam-rje Ya-bo (II) 16 lTam-shul (I) 38; (II) 16, 306 → gTam-shul lTam-shul Gung-dang (II) 16 Lu-tig Chu (I) 400 lugs (I) 22, 23, 447 → rabs Lung (II) 231 Lungphara (I) 264 fig. 9 Lupercalia (I) 349 Ma → rMa – as Mon clan identity in Mi/Me/Ma complex (II) 215, 225–227 – as Qiang autonym (I) 36, 98; (II) 182, 226 ma bdud (I) 90; (II) 24–25, 28 fig. 24 Ma Chu (I) 400 ma lha (I) 85, 100; (II) 188 Ma-lha Bu-rdzi (I) 251, 268 → ma lha; → Bu-rdzi Ma-shing (I) 399 Magar (I) 76, 123; (II) 19–20 → Kham Magar Mahonia napaulensis (I) 369, 379; (II) 71, 76 Mamang Thung (I) 264 fig. 9; (II) 187 Man Zhu (II) 227 Manda La (I) 426, 463 Mang (II) 108 Mang-bkra La-legs-pa (II) 108 Mang-bzher-gnyan (II) 108 Mang-ldom sTag-btsan (I) 62–63 Mang-po (I) 85 Mang-rje lHa-’od (II) 108 Mangde Chu (Mang-sde Chu maps) (I) 27, 168, 304, 521; (II) 140 Mani (I) 547; (II) 262 Manipadmo (I) 264 fig. 9 Manjang (I) 547; (II) 262 Manthung Gunthung (I) 264 fig. 9 Marimthung (I) 34 pl. 1, 35 marmot (II) 61–63, 66 pl. 205, 67, 307 marriage (I) 25–26, 63, 316; (II) 123, 235–236 – and bon shaman transmission (I) 172 – bar or prohibition (I) 32, 220, 429; (II) 228 –, cross-cousin (I) 313; (II) 174–175 –, endogamous (I) 26, 313, 435, 489, 554; (II) 137, 174–175 –, Lepcha origin myth of (I) 122 –, love (I) 26, 313, 525 –, makpa or magpa (I) 170–171, 173, 446, 504, 557 –, mock (I) 437, 444, 481, 486–489, 490 pls. 167–168, 491 pl. 169; (II) 171,

478

174–175 –, mythical models of (I) 62–63; (II) 174–175 – prescriptions for clan members (II) 103, 106 – to lha (I) 296–298 –, transmission of Srid-pa’i lha cult via (I) 32; (II) 141, 143, 145, 246–247, 260 –, uxorilocal (I) 170, 313, 446, 504, 557; (II) 140–141, 145 Martin, Dan (I) 278 mashee (I) 547, 548 pl. 191 massi (II) 197 Matai (II) 22 mChims (I) 242 McKhann, Charles (I) 77, 255; (II) 160, 162, 166, 215–217 McMahon Line (II) 230 mDangs-ldan-ma (I) 119 Mdo ’dus (II) 31 Me La (II) 91, 119, 120 map 9, 229 Me long sman sel (I) 327, 330, 370 pl. 116, 371–373; (II) 185 Me-’bran (I) 103, 105, 135 Me-nyag → Mi-nyag (ethnonym) Mee (also Sherdukpen) (I) 30, 425; (II) 88, 101–104, 114, 146, 174, 227, 230, 236, 248 → Khiksaba festival; → khikzizi; → Mey/Sherdukpen Megachiroptera (Megabats) (I) 112 → bat Megadermatidae (Old World leaf-nosed bats) (I) 114 → bat Megedzi (II) 103 Megẽji (II) 103 Mei (II) 102 → Mee – as Qiang autonym (II) 107, 226 Mejiji (II) 103 Meles leucurus (Asian badger or sand badger) (I) 140; (II) 307 Melong Mensey (I) 324 fig. 10, 326, 328, 370–373 Memung (I) 387–389; (II) 260 Menbazu (I) 27 messenger (I) 53, 75, 133, 419; (II) 181, 207, 233 → bat; → bird; → Ephedra – and Old Tibetan slungs (II) 60, 66 –, barley as (I) 248–249 –, flea as (I) 107, 109 –, grasshopper (also cricket, locust) as (I) 123–124 – in marriage negotiation (I) 489 – in Nya’-khri bTsan-po narrative (I) 104 fig. 2, 107 –, rMu cord as symbol of (II) 21 –, spider as (I) 123 –, talking parrot as (I) 393 –, white scarf as symbol of (I) 84 –, wild herbivores as (II) 66 –, winged horse as (II) 187 Metsho Gewog (I) 138, 303; (II) 8, 145, 255, 346 meüsòq-wà (I) 36, 255, 282, 403, 549 Mewahang Rai (I) 36, 48–49, 63, 173, 255, 262; (II) 70 Mey/Sherdukpen (I) 30–32, 81; (II) 102–103, 140, 142, 162, 262, 313 → Kho-Bwa cluster languages mgal bon (I) 135 → ’gal bon mGar (II) 105 → sTong-btsan Yul-bzung mGon-bu lHa-sras (II) 55 mGur-lha gSang-pa (I) 251

Inde x

Mi (I) 36, 98; (II) 88, 94, 96, 100–105, 107, 114–115, 146, 182, 215, 225, 226 map 16, 227, 230 → Mi Zim-pa; → Mi-nyag; → Mon clans Mi-bo Lum-lum (II) 122 Mi-nyag (ethnonym) (I) 98; (II) 107–108, 114 → Me-nyag Mi-nyag (region) (II) 110, 222–223 Mi-sim (II) 140 Mi Zim-pa (I) 436; (II) 101–103, 105, 143 Michaud, Alexis (II) 152–153 Microchiroptera (Microbats) (I) 112 → bat Midzidzi (II) 103 migration (I) 13, 33, 304, 427, 430, 439, 441; (II) 150, 246 – and linguistic change (I) 26; (II) 126, 151 – and spread of Srid-pa’i lha cult (I) 27, 30, 32, 175, 240, 305, 314, 316, 388, 390, 417, 421, 447, 453, 554; (II) 85, 145, 154, 205, 244, 246–248 – by Dung/gDung peoples (I) 175, 311, 395, 435, 436; (II) 106, 109, 116, 129–130, 244, 280 –, dietary taboos as indicator of (I) 178, 430; (II) 130 – from east to west (I) 144, 223; (II) 223, 239 – narratives (I) 9, 255, 263, 342–343, 434–435, 534; (II) 85–96, 109, 115, 218, 309 – of clans (I) 31, 100–101, 312, 343, 430, 501, 534–535; (II) 86–96, 109, 218, 309 – out from rural communities (I) 25, 29, 309, 312, 384, 387, 390, 422–423, 555, 557–559; (II) 256 –, premodern reasons for (I) 29, 33, 311, 387, 425 – via river courses (I) 72, 316; (II) 118 Mijenji (II) 102–104 Miji (I) 193 → Dhammai – raiding (I) 425–426, 541; (II) 173–174 Miju Mishmi (II) 22 Mijuiji (II) 102, 104 Milakatong La (I) 498 millet (I) 29, 516; (II) 231, 232, 283 → mimicry – alcohol (I) 122, 521; (II) 94, 317 –, broomcorn (I) 334 –, finger (I) 311; (II) 316–317 –, foxtail (I) 311 – in material culture of ritual (I) 56, 335, 345, 351–352; (II) 94 –, sponsoring of rites with (I) 353 Mills, J.P. (II) 102–103 mimicry → movement performance – of bats (I) 129–130 – of birds (I) 274, 417, 421 – of copulation (I) 17, 209, 293, 349, 369, 379, 547 – of domestic animals (I) 207, 208 pl. 65, 292–293, 296, 322, 355, 375, 379, 381; (II) 185, 187 – of game animals and hunting (I) 275, 293, 296, 542–547, 548 pl. 190, 549 – of swidden cultivation of millet (I) 17, 223, 275; (II) 9 Min River (II) 203 pls. 234–235, 203 fig. 39 Min Shan (I) 36, 126, 212–213, 227; (II) 150, 155–156, 185, 202, 222, 226 Minyak (language) (I) 98; (II) 107, 156, 162 → Muya Minyak (region) (I) 221 Mirafra assamica (rufous-winged bush lark) (I) 74 Mishmi Hills (I) 7, 195, 240, 255, 262; (II) 22, 197, 224

mithun (I) 555; (II) 322, 325 → Bos frontalis –, Ao Naga ideas about (I) 49 – as mount of deity (I) 438 pl. 142, 440 – as sacrificial animal (I) 143 pl. 32, 144, 447–449, 452–453, 467, 472 fig. 19, 480; (II) 91, 172 –, enticement of (I) 243–244 – horn (I) 205 –, mimicking of (I) 381 –, models of (I) 55, 381 –, ritual journey to obtain (I) 459–461, 463, 532 – trade (I) 463 –, white (also white-faced) (I) 440, 452–453, 454 pl. 145; (II) 169 Mi’u-rigs bzhi → Four Groups of Little Humans Mi’u rigs bzhi lha sel (I) 38, 51, 54, 75, 93, 101, 154, 180, 265; (II) 10, 17, 97, 140 fig. 30, 183, 189 fig. 36, 206–207, 265 –, bon la le’u dgu in (II) 14–16 –, provenance of (I) 38; (II) 14 –, ritual journey in (I) 265–269 mKha’-bu (II) 120 mKha’-me-wag (I) 96 fig. 1 mKhar Se-phu (II) 109 mKhas-pa lDe’u (I) 41 mKho’u-chung Chos-rje (I) 273–274 Mo Chu (I) 400 mo lha (I) 94, 101, 239, 268, 361–362, 371–372, 400–401; (II) 188, 274 Mo-bo-sei (II) 157 → Mu-bu-sei Mo-bzhe (I) 82; (II) 146, 157 mobile vitality principle (I) 72, 167, 420; (II) 10 → bla; → cha; → life; → pcha; → phya; → pla; → soul – and ritual journey (I) 46, 66, 69, 186, 257, 552 fig. 2; (II) 53, 168 – and Srid-pa’ lha names and titles (I) 48, 80, 122, 503 –, definition of (I) 17, 45–48, 50, 165 – in post-mortem state (I) 73, 186, 276–278, 552–553; (II) 196, 224 – manifest as insect or bird (I) 46, 123, 124 pl. 21, 432, 547, 548 pl. 190; (II) 79 –, number of divisibles or components of (I) 46, 46, 379; (II) 19, 71, 80 –, receptacles for (I) 46–47, 213, 260 pl. 92, 273, 296, 300; (II) 79, 160, 235 –, rites for (I) 57, 70, 86, 109, 146, 191, 227, 276–287, 318, 359, 419, 505; (II) 34, 195 – shared with ancestors (I) 48–49, 551–552 Mogou (I) 38 Molè, Gabriella (II) 110 Mon clans (I) 6; (II) 2, 99, 246, 248–249 → Ba; → lHo; → Mi; → Na – and East Bodish languages (II) 2, 101, 104, 230, 243 – as ancient settlers from the east (II) 149, 213–215, 243–244 –, definition of (II) 1 –, social identities of (II) 88, 95–96, 101, 104–105, 114, 146–147, 215, 227, 229–230 Mon Dung-rang Lung-pa (II) 135 Mon Ku-ru Lung-pa (II) 135 Mon-kha Na-ring Seng-ge rDzong (II) 135 → Seng-ge rDzong Ne-ring Mon La Khachung (Mon La Kha-chung maps) Mon mTsho-sna (I) 27, 40, 144, 154, 312, 518; (II) 3, 109, 111, 116, 121, 135, 218–219, 306 → mTsho-sna; → mTsho-sna rDzong Mon Nya-lam[-dung] (II) 135 → Nya-lam Dung

479

Source of Life

Mon rTse-rgyal (II) 110 Mon-la Kha-chung (I) 85, 269–270; (II) 119, 120 map 9 Mon-mkhar (II) 134 map 10, 137 Mon-pa’i rigs (I) 27 Mon-skad (II) 127 Mon-yul Corridor (I) 25, 26 map 1, 27, 299, 303, 304 map 6 → Dirang; → Tawang –, research sites in (I) 303, 304 map 6, 305, 306 map 7, 307; (II) 261–262, 264 –, spoken languages of (I) 29–32 –, social history of (I) 32–33, 34 pl. 1, 33; (II) 287–289 Mongar (Mong-sgar maps) monkey (I) 139, 140 pl. 27, 393; (II) 41 → Rhinopithecus spp.; → Trachypithecus spp. – as protector being (II) 202, 204 pls. 236–237, 205, 207, 237 – skin headgear (II) 159, 202, 203 pls. 234–235, 203 fig. 39, 205–207 –, words for (II) 41, 234, 281 Monkhar (Mon-mkhar maps) Monpa (I) 3, 19, 420, 481, 523, 526–527, 558 moon (I) 65; (II) 158, 181 → sun – as then stage/door (I) 69–70; (II) 58, 68 fig. 26, 75, 89 – disk on garment (II) 217 – motif in ritual narratives (I) 75, 90, 121, 270, 412, 458, 471; (II) 13, 16–17, 54, 74 –, occultation with (I) 389 –, words for (I) 270; (II) 152–153, 284 Morphologie der Schamanentrommel (I) 5 Morshead, Henry (II) 230 Morshing (I) 40 Moschus chrysogaster (alpine musk deer) (II) 309 Mosha (II) 225 Moso (I) 24, 63, 77, 137, 180, 278; (II) 12, 177, 225, 233, 235 Mosuo (I) 212; (II) 12, 156, 225 mountain(s) (I) 62, 70, 101, 155–156, 531 –, ancestral (II) 82 – and ’O-de Gung-rgyal (I) 87, 91 – and sman (II) 60, 63 –, cosmic (I) 77, 151, 332–333; (II) 54, 58, 68 fig. 26, 75 –, Dakpa Shiri (II) 232 – deities (I) 36, 63, 81, 87, 99, 314, 439, 441; (II) 69, 306 –, Gangs-ri dKar-po (II) 64, 277, 306 – motif in ritual narratives (I) 75, 89, 121, 219, 221, 267, 322–333, 364, 402, 458, 460–462; (II) 2, 54, 92, 265 –, Nyong La (I) 157, 314, 319, 329, 332–334, 346, 374 pl. 117, 383–384 –, Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po (I) 547 –, sKu-bla Gangs-ri (I) 402; (II) 118–119 – unimportant in Srid-pa’i la cult (I) 36, 63, 72–73, 81, 91, 254, 404; (II) 82, 242 –, Yarlha Shampo (also Yar-lha Sham-po) (I) 432, 439; (II) 107 –, Zangs-mdog dPal-ri (I) 357 movement performance (I) 55 → bro; → mimicry –, definition of (I) 290–291 –, jumping style of (I) 293, 294 pls. 100–101, 295 pl. 102, 296 –, mimicking as (I) 293–296 –, spiral style of (I) 377 pls. 121–123, 378 –, stamping/stepping style of (I) 290–293 Moxie (II) 225

480

Mra (I) 63, 144, 175, 230–235 → Subansiri River – autonym (II) 227, 230 – nyibu (I) 142 pls. 30–31, 143 pl. 32, 175, 223; (II) 236–237 – origin myth (II) 233 – ritual culture (II) 177–178, 180, 196, 198, 205, 235, 236 pl. 260, 237 mThing-mkhar (I) 119 mTho-spyod (I) 135 mThon-po (I) 85, 354 mThong-gsas sGron-me (I) 250 mtshe → Ephedra mtshe mi (bon shaman) (I) 19, 79, 104, 141, 146, 300; (II) 11, 124, 242 → mTshe-mi – ancestral auxiliary being (I) 173–176, 244 – and religious mTshe-mi (II) 35 – lineage (I) 168, 174–176; (II) 35 –, historical geography of (I) 173–176, 249, 278, 300; (II) 11 mTshe-bu Rus-dgu (I) 248 mTshe-ma Khrun-bzangs (I) 249 mTshe-ma rDzangs-’dzin (I) 248–249 mTshe-mi (I) 104 fig. 2, 105, 134 mTshe-mi Shag-’bar (II) 35 mTshe-pho Rang-rong (I) 248 mTsho-sman rGyal-mo (I) 412; (II) 64 mTsho-sna (II) 136 → Mon mTsho-sna mTsho-sna rDzong (I) 513; (II) 109 mTsho-sna Se-ba-mkhar (II) 116 mtshun mchod (I) 541 Mu cho khrom ’dur (II) 29–31 Mu Tseh (also Mutsi, Mu Je) (II) 157 Mu ye pra phud phya’i mthar thug (I) 50 Mu-bu-sei (also Mu-bo-sei) (II) 157 Mu-ku-lung (also Mu-ku-lung mTsho-mo) (I) 78; (II) 123 Mu-le Grum (I) 71; (II) 55 Mu-nya → Muya Muân bpò’ (I) 36; (II) 209 → Ts’ò mbêr ssáw – altar (II) 161, 168–171, 174 – cognate with Qiang rites (I) 36; (II) 158, 172–183, 226 – compared with Srid-pa’i lha festivals (I) 71, 77, 213; (II) 109, 158, 160–163, 166–167, 168–171 fig. 32, 172–182, 242 –, ceremonial groups in (II) 161 fig. 31, 162, 218–219 mudag (II) 22 pl. 192 → dmu thag Mug-rtur (II) 94, 264 Muktur (II) 100, 264 → Mug-rtur Muntiacus muntjak (also Muntiacus spp.) (muntjac, Indian muntjac, barking deer) (I) 536–537; (II) 307 Munya → Muya Murung (I) 8 Mus-dpal Phrog-rol (I) 107, 150; (II) 13 mustard seed (I) 147; (II) 24–25, 27–28 –, white (I) 249 Muya (I) 98; (II) 107, 114, 151, 153, 156, 162, 223 → Qiangic language Myal-pa (II) 251 Myang (II) 35, 113 Myang-stod (II) 121

Inde x

Myophonus caeruleus (blue whistling thrush) (I) 274, 295 Na (autonym) → Na-mi; → Na-mo; → Nani; → Naxi – clan of Mon (I) 502; (II) 87–88, 99, 101, 104, 107, 112–114, 146, 215, 227–230 → Mon clans – of north-west Yunnan (I) 36, 114; (II) 225, 227, 235 – of upper Subansiri (I) 144, 223; (II) 127, 177, 180, 230–236 na ban (I) 293, 535 fig. 21 → nawan Na ’Dzom-pa (II) 230 Na Ga-ber (II) 113, 228 na wan (I) 534–535; (II) 176, 229, 322 → nawan Na-gling (II) 229 Na-mi (II) 101, 228 → Nami Na-mo (II) 229 → Namo Naemorhedus baileyi (red goral) (I) 139, 534 Naemorhedus goral (goral) (I) 534 Naga (II) 102 –, Angami (I) 549 –, Ao (I) 49 – feast of merit rites (I) 549 – Hills (I) 8, 452 Nagor (I) 86; (II) 256 Na’i (II) 229 → Nas; → Ney Naic languages (I) 47; (II) 151–153, 156, 159–162, 238 → Naish languages –, Namuyi (II) 12 –, speakers of (I) 6, 36, 89, 212, 299; (II) 82, 109, 113, 146–147, 149, 166 , 176, 182, 213, 215, 225, 241, 243, 245, 248, 252 Naish languages (II) 153, 160, 345 –, Laze (II) 153 –, Naxi (II) 153 –, Naxi pictographic script → Naxi dtô-mbà –, Yongning Na (Mosuo) (I) 212; (II) 12, 153, 156, 225, 228 pl. 256 Naling (II) 229 Nam (II) 110–111 Nam lDong-prom (II) 110 Nam-bon (II) 94, 111, 263 Nam-pa (II) 110 Nam-pa lDong (II) 111 Nam-ra Zha-don (II) 110 nàm-sà (shaman) (I) 255, 403, 549; (II) 111, 224 Nam-sa lDe-rgyal (II) 110 Nam-tig (II) 110 Namdong (I) 221; (II) 110 Namdorzhe (I) 91, 317–318, 326, 339, 352 pl. 109, 356 pls. 110–111, 357, 370; (II) 253, 260–261 → gNam-’dor-zhe Namgong (I) 279–280; (II) 137 Nami (I) 313–314, 319; (II) 104, 227–229, 231, 237 → Na-mi Namkhai Norbu (I) 137 Namo (II) 229, 231 → Na-mo namsa (I) 314, 323, 325, 327, 349, 360; (II) 111 → Namsa Namsa (I) 313–314, 323; (II) 287 → gNam-sa Namsalang (I) 314, 324 fig. 10, 326, 328, 341, 373, 374 pl. 117, 375, 379; (II) 111 Namsung Zor (I) 264 Namuyi (I) 111; (II) 225, 234 → Naic languages

Nan (II) 110 Nan Shan (II) 110 nang lha (I) 85 Nangnang (I) 96 fig. 1; (II) 254 Nani (II) 230–231, 233–235, 237 → Na Nanshui (II) 110 Nas (II) 229 → Na’i na’u (bon shaman) (I) 322; (II) 228–229 Na’u (also Na’u rje) (II) 228–229 → rNa’u; → rNa’u-rje nawan (I) 532 → mimicry; → na ban; → na wan; → Yizhin Norbu – and female deities (I) 98, 322, 341 – as Yizhin Norbu rite (I) 343–345, 347 – bokpey rite (I) 413, 414 pls. 137-139, 415, 421; (II) 188 – changpa rite (I) 421 – compared with Angami Naga rite (I) 549–550 – compared with Drung rite (I) 549 – compared with Tamang rite (I) 548–549 –, meaning of term (I) 343, 532–533; (II) 175–178, 180, 229–230 – offering of wildlife (I) 293, 353, 532–542 –, ritual hunting during (I) 343–344, 536–537, 544–545 –, transformations of (I) 421–422, 487 – tumala rite (I) 543–545 – with animal heads (I) 533–541 Naxi (I) → bat; → Muân bpò’; → Na (autonym); → Naish languages –, fertility in ritual culture of (I) 228; (II) 159–161, 167, 172, 181, 216 –, life god basket of (I) 47, 67; (II) 168, 236 –, Ma proto-clan of (II) 98, 109, 156; (II) 226 –, Se clan of (II) 109, 156 – sky ancestors (I) 49, 51, 63 Naxi dtô-mbà (shaman) (I) 67, 71, 77, 113, 126, 127 fig. 3, 142, 165, 217, 219, 221, 227–228, 245–246, 255; (II) 12, 20, 37, 149, 152, 160, 162, 167, 168 fig. 32, 187, 193, 196 pl. 228, 197, 200 pl. 232, 201, 209 pls. 240–241, 211, 213, 224, 228, 234, 245, 251 → Dtô-mbà Shí-lô –, auxiliary beings of (I) 245–246; (II) 12, 149, 201 –, bâ-k’ô headgear of (II) 196 fig. 38, 196 pl. 228, 197–198 –, cape or cloak of (II) 201, 209 pls. 240–241 –, há-d’â headgear of (II) 200 pl. 232, 201, 228 pl. 256 –, múen-t’ù ritual staff of (I) 127 fig. 3, 128, 129, 142; (II) 209 pls. 240–241 –, pictographic script of (I) 25, 67, 68 pl. 10, 113, 114 pls. 16–17, 117 pl. 20, 124 pl. 21, 221, 227–228, 241, 255; (II) 12, 151–153, 156, 160, 161 fig. 31, 162, 172, 176 fig. 33, 177, 182, 196 fig. 38, 197, 200 pl. 232, 209 pls. 240–241 –, rigs lnga headgear of (II) 201 Naxi and Qiang ritual cultures, compared with Srid-pa’i lha cult (I) 36; (II) 149–151, 213–214, 241–242, 245 → altar; → sacred grove –, ancestor terminology and identities in (II) 153–159 –, Artemisia as a ritual plant in (I) (I) 137, 190 –, auxiliary beings of dtô-mbà in (I) 245–246 –, bat and shaman material culture in (I) 127–129 –, bovine horn in (I) 211–213 –, chant language in (II) 162–163 –, ceremonial group identities in (II) 161–162 –, cognates of palo device in (II) 193–198 –, cord for deity in (I) 259; (II) 22

481

Source of Life

–, deities of house and roof in (II) 188–193 –, eighteen levels of sky/heaven in (I) 333, 341; (II) 182, 187, 242 –, female identity of fire and hearth in (I) 99; (II) 157 –, fire expulsion in domestic space in (II) 165–166 –, flying sheep motif in (I) 186 –, fumigation with nine tree species in (I) 71 –, healing with a sacred bundle in (II) 163–165 –, ladder of life god in (I) 67–68 –, ladle in (I) 213 –, messenger bat in (I) 110–124 –, mock sacrificial figures in (I) 351 –, Muân bpò’ and Paying the Vows festivals in (I) 71, 77, 213; (II) 109, 158, 160–163, 166–182, 242 –, ninefold structure of rites in (II) 20 –, origin motifs in (I) 77–78; (II) 156 –, origin of iron narrative in (I) 221 –, representation of deceased ritual specialists in (II) 228 –, ritual specialist headgear and garments in (II) 198–213 –, selective overlap with Phya-gshen and Nang-gshen rites (II) 37 –, shelf for shaman equipment in (I) 209 –, soul or life basket in (I) 273; (II) 161–162 –, storage of ritual manuscripts in (I) 217 –, terms for vitality in (II) 159–161, 344–345 –, veneration of white rocks in (II) 182–188 –, white sky deities in (I) 82 –, wooden sticks to transfer ritual blessings in (I) 383; (II) 171 Nemorhaedus [Capricornus] sumatraensis (serow) (I) 534; (II) 317 Nepal (I) 163–164, 173, 198, 240, 245, 253–254, 477; (II) 1, 19, 187, 223, 277, 307, 309, 311 –, central (I) 2, 6, 20, 76, 123, 185, 221, 229, 548; (II) 10 –, east (also eastern) (I) 36, 49, 100–101, 123, 176, 209, 211, 252, 262 –, highland (I) 50–51, 101, 252, 256, 262, 378, 429; (II) 109, 242, 245 –, northern (I) 135, 168, 539, 239 –, west (also western) (I) 5, 47, 195, 199, 555; (II) 16, 70 Ney (Na’i, Nas maps) (I) 83, 96 fig. 1, 205, 206 pl. 64, 207, 306 map 7, 311; (II) 267 → Na’i; → pchami –, Cha/Pcha festival of (I) 129, 305, 543–546; (II) 76–77, 254 –, cultural history of name (II) 229 Ney Chugpo (I) 543 Ngag-dbang, compiler of Rgyal rigs (I) 92, 430–431; (II) 87, 125, 133 Ngang gDung (II) 116, 133, 140 → gDung lineage Ngang-la (I) 140 Ngang-mda’ La (I) 418, 420 Ngas-po (I) 130 nightjar (I) 274 nine (I) 123, 125, 133, 198, 222, 272–274, 293, 371, 448, 460, 471, 483; (II) 94, 181 → altar; → bon la le’u dgu; → bon theg pa rim dgu; → g.yen; → sky; → tree(s) – as ideal number (I) 65, 341; (II) 19–20 – beings, sets of (I) 97, 173, 221, 242, 245, 247–248, 319, 325, 332, 504–505; (II) 17, 23–24, 26, 30, 139, 160, 183, 277–278 – divisibles of mobile vitality principle (I) 46, 379; (II) 71 – grain crops (I) 275; (II) 19 – lha (I) 81, 100, 251; (II) 273

482

– ritual items (I) 105, 121, 129, 136–137, 239, 267, 364, 379, 393, 400–401, 449–450, 467, 478; (II) 20, 45, 90–93, 268, 318 nor lha (I) 85, 407, 422, 556 → phyugs lha Nubcha (I) 264; (II) 262 Num-sha-ri (I) 399 Nuosu (also Yi) (I) 227–228, 548; (II) 12, 150, 158, 200 pl. 231, 201, 209, 227, 233, 235 Nya Chu (II) 223 Nya-lam Dung (II) 99, 135 Nya-mkhar (II) 140 Nyalamdung (II) 135 → Nya-lam Dung Nyamjang Chu (Nyang-shang Chu maps) (I) 27, 498–499; (II) 96, 100, 116, 118–119, 136, 138, 229–230 Nyangnyang (I) 96 Nyang-po (II) 35, 223 Nyang-ral Nyi-ma ’Od-zer (also Nyang-ral) (I) 40–41, 66, 175–176, 201; (II) 106–108, 111, 125 Nyang-stod (II) 8, 34–35, 117, 121 → Myang-stod Nyang-zhur-ma (I) 469 nyibu (shaman) (I) 165, 222; (II) 12 – as blacksmith (I) 222 pls. 77–78, 223 – costume and accoutrements (I) 142 pls. 30–31, 143 pl. 32, 144, 193, 195 pls. 53–54, 213; (II) 202, 236 –, dietary taboos of (I) 179, 267 –, rites of (I) 7, 124 Nyimshong (Nyi-ma-gshong maps) (I) 120, 303, 304 map 6, 305, 387, 395, 397, 407, 409, 417, 419, 421; (II) 258 – bon po (I) 99, 119, 188 pl. 39, 396 pl. 128, 397, 417, 421; (II) 267 Nyishi (I) 213; (II) 70, 232 ’o bon (II) 24–25, 30 ’o gnyen (I) 88, 90; (II) 7, 9, 13–14, 17, 23, 26, 27–30, 161, 251, 344 ’o mnyen (II) 27, 344 → ’o gnyen ’O yi bu (I) 89 ’O-bu sPun-bdun (II) 24–25, 27, 344 ’O-de Gung-rgyal (I) 13, 31, 79, 82, 93, 104 fig. 2, 112, 117–118, 132, 170, 205 → ʼOd-de Gung-rgyal – and Gu-se Lang-ling/Gurzhe (I) 61, 82, 91, 94, 97, 150, 317, 356 – and livestock (I) 54, 85–86 – as Dung/gDung ancestor (I) 37, 97–98, 290 – as father of bat (I) 110, 266 – as progenitor of humans (I) 61–62, 89–91, 297, 368 – as progenitor of lha (I) 84–87, 247, 250, 317 – assimilated to local deities (I) 95, 101, 440 –, cultural history of (I) 86–91 –, descent from sky of (I) 61, 66, 75, 82–83, 85, 87–91, 94, 118, 197, 260 pl. 91, 355, 364–365 –, iconography of (I) 82–84, 187 –, meaning of name (I) 86–89 –, rites involving (I) 75, 83–84, 118, 197, 205, 266–267, 326, 347–348, 353–355, 364–365 Ô-gkò-âw-gkò (I) 49; (II) 149, 160, 197 ’O-lde sPu-rgyal (I) 87–88; (II) 72, 115 ’O-mkhar lDem-pa (II) 24

Inde x

’O-mkhar rTse-mtho (II) 23 ’O-mo Rlungs-ring (II) 18 ’O-thang (I) 89; (II) 344 ’O-thang-gi mTsho (I) 89; (II) 344 O-yü (II) 161 ’O-yug (II) 117 ’O-yul (II) 161 ’O-yul Bar-thang (II) 24 ’O-yul ’O-smad (II) 24 ’O-yul ’O-stod (II) 23, 26; (II) 344 ’Od-’bar-mo (I) 99, 471 ’Od-de Gung-rgyal (I) 86–87, 177, 266; (II) 66 pl. 206, 67, 90, 305 pl. 292 → ’O-de Gung-rgyal ’Od-ldan-ma (I) 119 Old Tibetan Annals (II) 46, 112, 120, 344 Old Tibetan Chronicle (I) 72, 75, 85, 97, 132; (II) 105, 108, 110, 112, 114–115, 121, 205, 217, 305, 344 Old Tibetan Documents Online (II) 27 Old Tibetan document – IOL Tib J 731 (II) 9, 29 – IOL Tib J 734 (I) 249 fig. 7, 277, 420; (II) 12, 29, 35, 72 fig. 27, 73, 344 – IOL Tib J 738 (II) 73 – IOL Tib J 739 (II) 29 – IOL Tib J 740 (I) 131; (II) 344 – IOL Tib J 751 (II) 344 – PT 1038 (I) 85, 134, 175; (II) 115 – PT 1042 (II) 51, 73 – PT 1060 (I) 88, 93; (II) 27–30, 48, 74, 112, 161, 251, 344 – PT 1134 (I) 69, 131, 269, 277; (II) 53, 61, 73–74, 265, 311 – PT 1136 (II) 61, 74, 311 – PT 1144 (II) 112 – PT 1194 (I) 131; (II) 28, 344 – PT 1285 (I) 180; (II) 16, 29, 73, 83, 344 – PT 1286 (II) 344 – PT 1287 (II) 114 – PT 1289 (I) 93, 464; (II) 195 Old Tibetan pillar inscriptions (II) 115 Old Tibetan wooden slip documents (II) 108, 249, 251 Oppitz, Michael (I) 5, 155, 199–200, 219, 241, 429; (II) 202, 225 Pa-lo Yar-bzheng (I) 281, 285, 287 Pa-tshab Pa-sangs dBang-’dus (I) 38 Pad ma bka’ yi thang yig (I) 205 Padma Gling-pa (I) 167, 273, 436, 500, 540; (II) 99, 109, 123, 136, 229 Padma-bkod (I) 139 Padma’i sDong-po (I) 405 Padmasambhava (I) 153, 155–157, 315, 357 Pag-shu Chu (I) 400 Pal (II) 92 palo (I) 237, 245, 279–287, 289, 312, 318, 322–323, 325–328, 337–338, 341, 343, 345, 367, 373, 384, 429, 505, 507, 510–511, 519; (II) 91, 93, 97, 141, 170, 193–198, 201, 242 palopa (I) 208 pl. 65, 237, 241, 279, 281, 283, 284 pls. 97–98, 285, 287, 289, 323, 327, 338, 341, 345, 360, 367, 370, 373, 378–379, 519; (II) 195, 197 → bau

Pang La (sPang La maps) Pangchen (II) 96, 229 Pangkhar (I) 92, 316; (II) 257 pangolin (I) 113 Pangpala (I) 387–390, 421; (II) 260 parrot (I) 108, 266, 392–393, 403; (II) 305, 310 Paying the Vows festival (I) 36, 180, 213; (II) 156, 158, 166–167, 172, 178 pls. 34–35, 180–181, 226, 242 pcha (I) 45, 50, 273; (II) 77 → mobile vitality principle Pcha (also Cha) (I) 48, 272 pl. 94, 533; (II) 229 → Pla – bridge (I) 129 – festivals in Kurtö (I) 53, 120, 129, 208 pl. 66, 274, 279, 381, 543, 545–546; (II) 79, 254 – talismanic stones (I) 273–275 – title for Srid-pa’i lha (I) 48, 129, 167, 273, 293, 295, 543, 546; (II) 76–77 pcha shing (I) 129, 272 pl. 94, 273–274; (II) 185 pl. 218, 187 → lha shing pcha’i bu (I) 274 → lha’i bu pchami (bon shaman) (I) 48, 129, 167, 189 pl. 42, 209, 274–275, 381, 546; (II) 187, 211, 254 peacock (I) 108, 262, 347, 466; (II) 74, 278 – cloak (I) 138, 141, 144 – feather on headgear (I) 185, 191, 465, 479, 492–493, 505–506 –, mimicking of (I) 417, 421 peafowl (also peahen) (II) 74, 310 P’èr (II) 197 Perilla frutescens var. frutescens (I) 311 Petech, Luciano (I) 6; (II) 116–117, 127 Peylong Thung (I) 264 pha – as kin term (I) 177, 368; (II) 12, 45, 277, 323 – title of gShen-rab M[y]i-bo (I) 103, 107, 146, 149 fig. 4, 150–151, 201, 203; (II) 13, 74, 311 – title of ritual specialist (I) 107, 109, 131, 134, 168, 177, 203, 213, 276; (II) 9, 11–14, 16–18, 43, 205, 242 – title of Srid-pa’i lha (I) 82, 93, 177 pha bon (II) 11–12 pha jo (bon shaman) (I) 168, 198–199; (II) 12, 140–141 – as kin term (I) 146, 168, 177 – title of gShen-rab Mi-bo (I) 146; (II) 17–18 Pha-jo ’Brug-sgom Zhig-po (I) 168 Phag-ri (II) 117 phallus (I) 340, 346, 379 – as ritual object (I) 17, 55, 57–58, 62, 129–130, 206 pl. 63, 258, 268, 342 pl. 107, 345–346, 349, 355, 369, 383, 486, 521, 543 –, bear (I) 547, 548 pl. 190 –, chants about (I) 357, 358 pl. 122 –, horse (I) 207, 356, 515, 521; (II) 187 –, names and terms for (I) 357, 521 – of kengpa (I) 17; (II) 9, 165 – of mashee (I) 547, 548 pl. 191 ’Phan-po (I) 134 Phar-ma’i Phar-chung (I) 212, 365 Phar-po ’Phar-chung (I) 212 phayangpa (I) 543–544

483

Source of Life

Phed-lha (II) 192 Phiang (I) 31 pho brang (also lha’i pho brang) (I) 129, 225, 273, 319, 329; (II) 323 → lha brang Pho Chu (I) 400 pho lha (I) 513, 541; (II) 34, 218, 273, 323 – and migrating clans (I) 101; (II) 98–99, 107 –, definition of (I) 82, 100–101 – group (I) 100, 130, 239, 267–268, 371, 385 – iconography (I) 84, 191, 514, 516 pl. 180 – in house architecture (I) 85; (II) 188 – title of male Srid-pa’i lha (I) 91, 94, 347, 361–362, 400–401, 513, 518, 535; (II) 154 Pho-gnyen Thod-dkar (I) 184 Pho-lha Kya-dgu (I) 251 Phobjip (I) 29 Phog-ten (II) 93 Phogs-mog-tab (II) 94 Phong-phong-zhe (I) 82, 96 fig. 1, 317; (II) 146 ’Phong-po (II) 107 ’Phrul-gshen (II) 32 ’Phrul-yul (I) 141 phu (I) 94, 158, 254, 314, 354, 440–441, 537; (II) 116, 138, 262, 323 – and hunting (I) 537; (II) 178 – and mda’ (I) 441, 461–462 – assimilated to ancestral lha (I) 440, 540, 554 – Ata Shabchang (I) 158 – bzang (I) 440, 448, 456, 465 – co-classification with lha (II) 154 – La-chong (I) 439, 461, 465; (II) 261 – lDum-ri (I) 441, 462 – lha (I) 354 – Nyong La (I) 319, 324 fig. 10, 340 Phudung (Sangti valley) (I) 305, 426, 536, 542 – bon po (I) 537, 538 pl. 186, 540–541 – Lhasöshe/Chisöshe festival (II) 173 p. 213, 261 Phudung (below Manda La) (I) 426 phya (I) 67, 101 → Phya – beings (II) 54, 58, 68 fig. 26, 74, 158 – divination, prognosis (I) 133, 271, 273 – life power (I) 50–51, 55, 60–61, 80, 122, 273, 333, 412, 552 fig. 22 Phya (I) 21, 48–49, 80, 122, 273, 533–534, 552 fig. 22 → Phywa phya bon (I) 168; (II) 22 Phya Grang-bya-mo (I) 48, 97 → Grang-bya-mo phya g.yang (II) 32 Phya-gshen (II) 7, 31–33, 36–37 Phya-lha Bram-chen (I) 364 phyed rnga (I) 156, 199 → drum Phyim-rbal rTag-rtse (II) 90 Phyllostomidae (leaf-nosed bats) (I) 114 → bat ’Phyong-po (I) 97, 439 ’Phyong-rgyas (I) 115 phyugs lha (I) 85, 100 phywa (I) 49–50, 67, 88; (II) 74 Phywa (I) 21, 50, 69, 80, 83–84, 93, 95, 109, 116, 177, 179, 247, 365, 367;

484

(II) 17, 122–123 pine tree (I) 129; (II) 44, 77, 78 pl. 209, 79, 181, 188, 266 Piri La (I) 463 pla → mobile vitality principle –, defintion of (I) 45–49, 60–61 – term in other languages (I) 45, 50 Pla (deity title) (I) 48, 379 – and pla (I) 48–49, 122, 167 Pla (festival) (I) 31, 36, 191–192, 197, 279–281, 282 pl. 96, 286 pl. 99, 298 pl. 103, 377 pls. 121–122, 378, 482 pl. 160, 497–529; (II) 199 pl. 230, 210 pl. 242, 254, 261 → pla’i lcam; → plami Pla dGur-zhe (I) 48 Pla Ming Emay (I) 48, 342–343 Pla Mo (I) 48 pla’i lcam (I) 190 pl. 43, 237, 285, 287, 296–297, 298 pl. 103, 378, 533, 552 fig. 22 plami (bon shaman) (I) 197, 228 pl. 82, 237 pl. 88, 238–241, 378; (II) 211, 254 –, meaning of (I) 48, 167, 319, 321 Pleiades (I) 121, 389, 471; (II) 258, 262 Pommaret, Françoise (I) 37 Procapra picticaudata (Tibetan gazelle) (II) 309 pl. 297 Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation (I) 39 Pteropodidae (Megabats) (I) 112 → bat P’ú-dt`v (II) 161 fig. 31, 162 Pumi (I) 227–228; (II) 150, 156, 162, 166, 182, 188, 234, 251 Puroik (II) 231–232, 247 Qiang → bi; → Naxi and Qiang ritual cultures, compared with Srid-pa’i lha cult – altar (II) 158, 178, 182–183, 185, 190 fig. 37, 191 – earth deity (II) 158–159, 242 – Paying the Vows festival (I) 36, 180, 213; (II) 156, 158, 166–167, 172, 178 pls. 34–35, 180–181, 226, 242 –, sacred grove of (I) 36, 213; (II) 156, 158, 166, 178 figs. 34–35, 183, 188 – shaman, auxiliary beings of (I) 98; (II) 205 – shaman, dietary taboo of (I) 180 – veneration of white rock (I) 122, 137; (II) 157–158, 188, 182–183, 184 pl. 217, 186 pl. 221, 187–188, 190 pls. 222–223, 191, 193 Qiangic languages –, ’Bo-skad (II) 237, 238 map 17 –, bTsan-lha (II) 160–162, 345 –, Lizu (II) 153 –, Muya (I) 98; (II) 107, 114, 151, 153, 156, 162, 223 –, Northern Qiang (II) 107, 151, 155–156 –, Pumi (I) 228; (II) 162, 166 –, Rgyalrongish (II) 151, 160–161, 344–345 –, Southern Qiang (II) 107, 151, 155–156 –, Tangut (I) 98; (II) 107, 114, 153 Qiangzu (I) 36; (II) 222–223, 226 Qilian Shan (II) 110 Qionglai (II) 150, 202, 222, 226 Quellen zur Geschichte der Bon-Religion (II) 195 Ra-ljags sKyi-rgyal (II) 43, 46 Ra-lung (II) 134 Ra-sa (I) 88–89

Inde x

Ra-yag (II) 27 Rab-’phrang (II) 231 rabs → ritual antecedent narrative Radin, Paul (I) 110 Rahung (I) 30–32, 305, 306 map 7, 425, 545, 547; (II) 262, 313 Rahung Sartang (I) 32, 81; (II) 248, 262 → Kho-Bwa cluster languages Rahungpa (I) 30, 538, 547; (II) 248 Rai (I) 5 –, Kulunge (I) 54, 209, 211; (II) 187 –, Lohorung (I) 48, 180 –, Mewahang (I) 36, 48–49, 63, 173, 255, 262; (II) 70 –, Thulung (I) 123–124, 262 Raktipa (I) 264 Ramble, Charles (I) 7, 177, 271, 513, 545; (II) 109 ransom (also glud) (I) 52, 70, 72, 108, 130, 147 249, 277, 439; (II) 9, 25, 31–32, 44, 53, 202, 205 → bslu – animals (I) 147, 305, 419, 422, 443, 447, 449, 451–453, 454 pl. 145, 455 pl. 147, 467, 472 fig. 19, 473, 474 pls. 153–154, 520 – as hunt (I) 419–420 –, definition of (I) 277, 451–452, 551; (II) 172 – narratives (I) 418–419, 456–462, 476–480; (II) 25, 43, 290–301 pls. 266–287 –, Old Tibetan (I) 72, 249, 256, 420–421, 451, 463–464; (II) 42, 48, 72 fig. 27, 73 –, ritual costume as (I) 480–481, 482 pls. 160–161 – with search itinerary (I) 253, 256, 259, 418–420, 463 Raprang (II) 231 rat (I) 111–112, 118, 219, 266, 362; (II) 196 rBa (I) 501; (II) 94, 96, 100, 104 → Ba rBa-gi (I) 501; (II) 104–105, 289 → Ba-gi rDo-rje ’Chang-chen (I) 152 rDo-rje Gling-pa (I) 153–154; (II) 8, 10 rDo-rje Shugs-ldan (I) 524 rDung-’khar (II) 94 rDung-rang (II) 91, 135 → Dung-rang rDza-ra Chu (I) 400 Reb La (I) 92, 316, 384 religion(s) 18–19, 177, 250, 465, 523, 539, 553 – as generalised “Bon religion” (I) 16, 497 –, definition of (I) 14–15 –, “nameless” (I) 7, 14, 19; (II) 31 – of state, in Bhutan (I) 351, 558; (II) 214 –, Tibetan salvation (I) 3, 4, 14–16, 20, 51, 60, 118, 122, 137, 145, 152, 252, 421, 464; (II) 2, 7–8, 21, 29–33, 36, 39, 69, 124, 245–246 rGod-gsas bTsan-po (also rGod-gsas) (I) 248, 329, 347; (II) 278–279 rGong-smad (II) 90 rGong-stod (II) 90 rGya (I) 219, 242, 364, 440; (II) 55–57, 59, 217 rGya Mi-mang Phyug-che (I) 364 rGya-brag dKar-po (I) 73, 219, 371–372 rGya-lcam rGas-mo-btsun (II) 56 rGya-lha ’Brong-nam (I) 364, 440 rGya-ngar (I) 130 rGya-ri Chu (I) 460

rGya-sras Khru-na (II) 56 rGya-tsha (II) 216 pl. 249, 217, 219 map 13 rgyal (ritual specialist) (I) 168; (II) 91–92, 94, 97, 112, 319 rgyal phran (I) 83, 256; (II) 3, 59, 121, 217 rgyal po (I) 90; (II) 24–25, 28 fig. 24 Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long (II) 105 Rgyal rigs → Shar sDe-rang supplement in Rgyal rigs –, clan names listed in (II) 287–289 – compiler Ngag-dbang (I) 92, 430–431; (II) 87, 125–126, 133 –, gDung origin narratives in (I) 61–62, 72, 91, 95, 290, 312, 317, 368, 435, 502; (II) 87, 116, 118, 125, 130, 133, 138 –, redactions of (I) 40 –, social history bias in (I) 430–431, 499; (II) 86–87, 125–126, 133, 247 –, name Gu-se Lang-ling in (I) 81, 92 rGyal-blon-be (II) 91 rGyal-gnyan rGyal-’byor-re (II) 92–93, 97, 112 rGyal-phu (I) 312, 318, 435–436 → Gephu; → Atajipu rGyal-phu-mkhar (I) 435 → Gyephukhar rGyal-po sTong-rab (II) 103 rGyal-rong (II) 150, 222–223 rGyal-thang (II) 210 pls. 243-244, 211, 227 → Zhongdian rGyang Ta-la (II) 155 rGyang-dgu (I) 85 rGyang-mkhar rDzong (I) 513 Rhinopithecus spp. (golden-haired monkey) (II) 202, 205 Rhododendron (I) 267, 364, 538; (II) 310, 313 pl. 300 – anthopogon (I) 250; (II) 71 – setosum (II) 71 Ri-bu-mo (I) 317; (II) 158 → Ribumo Ri-che ’Gong-nyag (II) 202 Ri-gtsug Drag-sde-pa (I) 267 Ribumo (I) 317–318, 322, 326, 349, 356, 370; (II) 253, 260 – and bamboo (I) 318, 341, 342 pl. 107, 346, 349, 379 – and Qiang earth deity (II) 158–159, 242 rice – as staple crop (I) 29, 387 – cultivation (I) 516; (II) 231 – for trade and tax (I) 33, 311, 427, 555 – used in rites (I) 192, 274, 390, 397–398, 407, 409, 449–450, 451 pl. 143, 473, 475, 477, 483, 486–487, 493, 540, 542; (II) 161–162, 192 Richthofen Mountains (II) 110 Ridi Rong (I) 264 Rimolang (I) 318, 322, 324 fig. 10, 326, 341, 343, 345 Rin-chen mGon-g.yag (I) 185 Risumtse (I) 97, 208 pl. 66, 209 ritual antecedent narrative (rabs) (I) 16, 22–25, 32, 45, 61, 119, 150, 219, 230–231, 241, 247–248, 359, 419 –, Bdud rtsi rabs (I) 328, 371 –, Bro rabs (I) 454 pl. 146, 456; (II) 206, 290–301 pls. 265–287 –, Bsang[s] [bsangs] rabs (I) 138, 239, 260, 328–330, 333, 345, 352, 392, 399, 400–401; (II) 257, 268 –, Chags rabs (I) 119, 543 –, Dri zhim dud sel rabs (I) 138, 239; (II) 268–269, 274, 346, 362–365 –, G.yag rabs (I) 453

485

Source of Life

–, Khrus rabs (I) 238 fig. 6, 240, 328, 392, 400–401 –, Lcags rabs (I) 219–223, 328, 371 –, Lha lnga lam sel rabs (I) 328, 371–372; (II) 346–349 –, Lha rgyud (I) 49, 61, 62, 124, 440; (II) 21 –, Lha zhu rabs (I) 103, 150, 199, 259–270, 325, 328–329, 330 fig. 12, 331–333, 392 –, Lha’i gsung rabs (I) 8, 172, 293, 367, 534–535; (II) 11, 87–97, 98 map 8, 99–101, 106–107, 109, 111–116, 119, 128–130, 132, 134–135, 137, 139, 143, 145–146, 153, 263, 315–343 –, Lha’i gtam (I) 328, 338–341; (II) 88 –, Mdzo mo’i rabs (I) 93 –, Me long sman sel rabs (I) 330, 370–373; (II) 185, 346, 349–351 –, Me rabs (I) 103, 111, 118–123, 219, 223, 328, 371; (II) 268, 346, 365–366 –, Mes rabs (I) 173–176; (II) 139 –, Na gzhung (I) 216 pl. 74, 502, 510; (II) 229–230 –, Na wan rabs (I) 533–534 –, Nam zla dus bzhi (I) 73–74, 130, 328, 371, 392 –, ’O gnyen rabs (I) 17, 23–31, 161 –, Rdo rabs (II) 543 –, Rma bya’i tshang ’tshol rabs (I) 392, 417 –, Rta rabs (I) 356 –, Sa[’i sa] rabs (I) 448, 469 –, Sa’i chags rabs (I) 327–328, 393 –, Sel rabs (I) 71, 103, 130–131, 132 map 5, 133–134, 136, 138, 219–220, 239, 241, 326–327, 330, 370–371, 373; (II) 9, 21, 34–35, 43, 45–46, 75, 184 pl. 216, 268, 304 pl. 290, 346–366 pls. 314–333 –, Sgam chen pha wang rabs (I) 124–125, 129, 333, 392–393 –, Sha ba rabs (I) 393, 417–421 –, Sho rabs (I) 439–440, 448, 456, 476 –, Shug pa’i byon lam ’tshol rabs (I) 392, 395 –, Spa lo rabs (I) 282 pl. 96, 283, 285, 338 –, Spos rabs (I) 237 pl. 88, 238–243, 328, 330, 370–371; (II) 268–276 –, Srid pa’i chags rabs (I) 393 –, Ston pa sgam chen pha wang gis lha phab glu (I) 328, 354, 359, 360 pl. 113, 361–365, 366 pl. 115, 367 –, Tale of Father lHa-rje Ya-ba (II) 16–19 –,Tale of Ho-za rGya-men (II) 17 –, Tshan rabs (I) 136–138, 219; (II) 346, 351–353 –, Tshe dang g.yang gyi bcol rabs (I) 392, 411 –, Tshe g.yang bcol rabs (I) 392, 412 –, Tshe g.yang zhu rabs (I) 392, 411–412 ritual journey (I) 46, 55 → mobile vitality principle – along river course (I) 66, 254 fig. 8, 255–256, 552 fig. 22; (II) 184 – and lha shing (I) 70, 256–257, 258 pl. 89, 259 pl. 90; (II) 75–76 – and migration (I) 255–256, 262, 391–393; (II) 131 fig. 29, 132, 168 – at hearth (I) 57 pl. 3, 64, 70, 103, 256–257, 327 –, auxiliary beings deployed for (I) 253, 256, 260, 265–268, 331, 399, 403 –, cord used for (I) 257–258, 259 pl. 90, 260 pls. 91–92 –, fumigation for (I) 257, 260, 266, 329–330, 356, 360, 365; (II) 21, 76 – of Siberian shaman (I) 252 –, terminus at altar of (I) 56 pl. 2, 70–71, 101, 103, 165, 199, 253–256, 259, 261, 264–266, 273, 331, 370, 399, 409–410, 413, 476, 510; (II) 21, 154, 167, 187, 225, 266 rivers (I) 269, 337, 401; (II) 32, 82 → ritual journey

486

– as migration routes (I) 255; (II) 118–119, 120 map 9 –, corpse disposal into (I) 72–73, 315, 541, 551, 552 fig. 22 –, flows of lha and vitality along (I) 64, 66, 72–73, 92, 165, 296; (II) 237 –, location of Srid-pa’i lha cult along (I) 26 map 1, 27, 316 rJe (II) 112 rJi-dang sKye-mched-po (I) 107, 109 rKong-po (I) 76; (II) 223 rKong-po sDe-mo-sa (II) 32 Rlangs (I) 62–63, 83, 93 rMa (I) 98; (II) 35, 107, 158, 226 → Ma; → Qiang rMa g.Yu-mo (I) 96 fig. 1; (II) 158 rMa-da’ (II) 47 rMe (II) 107, 226 → rMa rMi (II) 107, 226 → rMa rmu (I) 67; (II) 24–25, 28 fig. 24, 48 rMu (I) 69, 78, 89, 107, 131, 231, 258, 361; (II) 13, 17, 19–22, 89–90, 229 rMu-bza’ Ngang-’brang-ma (II) 18 rMu-rgyal (I) 142, 175; (II) 45 rMu’i yul (also rMu-yul) (I) 78; (II) 48 fig. 25, 123 rNa (II) 229 rNam-par sNang-mdzad (I) 152, 466; (II) 278 rNa’u (I) 231, 236; (II) 229 rNa’u-rje (I) 82, 235, 367; (II) 146 rnel dri (I) 105–106, 130; (II) 9, 41–47, 48 fig. 25, 60, 70, 73, 124 Rnel dri ’dul ba’i thabs → dGa’-thang ritual texts rNgegs (II) 108, 114 rNgon-po-rtsa (II) 25, 28 → sheep rNying-ma-pa (I) 33, 153, 155, 167, 191, 143, 315, 385, 387, 427, 498–499, 533; (II) 174 Rock, Joseph (I) 129, 221; (II) 156, 160, 163, 165–167, 172, 177, 201, 209, 212–214, 217 Rong (I) 66, 116, 122–123 Rong-ma-steng (II) 135 Rong-skor (II) 232 Roop (I) 304; (II) 141, 259 → Rup rope → cord rTa-mgrin (II) 174 rTa-pho Phug-pa (I) 255; (II) 187 rTa-yang-bsteng (II) 91 rTag-yag (I) 85 rten bu (I) 85, 354; (II) 306 rTsang (place) (II) 58 pl. 200, 59, 72 fig. 27, 74, 305 rTsang (clan) (II) 88, 113, 146 rTsang-rje Ya-bo (II) 16 rTsang-smad (I) 333 rTsang-stod (II) 59 → Kha-la rTsang-stod rTseng-mi (II) 99–100, 263 rTsib-lha Byar-ma (I) 185 Ru-be-sei (II) 158 Ru-bou-tze (II) 159 Ru-breng (II) 91 Rü-bü-tzè (II) 158 Ru-lu (II) 93 Rup (I) 303; (II) 139–141 → Roop

Inde x

Rupa (I) 31, 432–433, 463, 497; (II) 102, 104, 262, 313 Rùrùhaŋ (I) 36, 49, 255, 262 Rus-bo-mkhar (II) 109 → Rus-bu-mkhar Rus-bu-mkhar (I) 500; (II) 109 Rus-gsum (II) 91–93 Rus-sbal Kham-pa (I) 481 sa bdag (I) 90, 471, 506; (II) 24, 30, 60–61, 63 79, 278, 306 sa gsum (I) 64, 187, 191; (II) 69 → srid pa gsum sa narang (I) 262, 264; (II) 154 Sa-le-ljon (II) 63, 64, 306 Sa-lha mGon-skyabs (II) 64 Sa-skya (II) 117, 120, 128 Sa-sman ʼJam-le (II) 64 Sa-thul (II) 30 sacred grove (I) 17, 341 → lha shing – in Naxi ritual (I) 213; (II) 166, 171, 176 – in Qiang ritual (I) 36, 213; (II) 156, 158, 166, 178 figs. 34–35, 183, 188 – in Srid-paʼi lha cult (I) 54, 57, 64, 70, 92, 129, 207, 208 pl. 65, 215, 324, 394, 419, 446, 449, 476, 484, 510, 536–537, 540–544; (II) 77, 158, 171, 176, 179 pls. 214–215, 187, 191, 310, 315 –, ritual journey performed in (I) 256, 257, 258 pl. 89, 259 pl. 90 –, shrine as representation of (I) 71, 350, 395 –, stone slab altar in (I) 54, 56 pl. 2, 256, 262–263, 292; (II) 184 Sad-mar-kar (II) 114 Sal (I) 401 → Shorea robusta Saleng (I) 124–126, 150; (II) 131 fig. 29, 145, 256 – bon po (I) 101, 125; (II) 267 Samten Karmay (II) 22, 38, 52, 137, 149, 153; (II) 8, 14–15, 21, 34, 36, 40–41, 70, 82 Samuel, Geoffrey (I) 18 Sangti (Sa-thi maps) (II) 173–174 178, 199, 261, 267, 311 Sangti River (I) 535–537 Sangye Tsering (I) 9; (II) 473 Saraṅdew (I) 36, 255, 262 Sargangri (I) 547 Sargangri Karpo Söshe (I) 539, 547 Sartang (I) 30, 443, 467, 486, 545; (II) 140, 313 → Rahung Sartang sBa (I) 501; (II) 104–106, 109 → Ba sBa-gi (I) 501; (II) 104–105, 289 → Ba-gi sBang-ma (I) 399 sbas yul (I) 405; (II) 135 Schrempf, Mona (II) 80 sDe-rang (II) 138 → ’Di-rang; → Dirang sdig stod (II) 14, 23, 25–28, 30 sDings-bu g.Yu-le (II) 55 Se (also bSe) (I) 201, 312, 500; (II) 17, 104, 108–109, 114 – ’A-zha (II) 108, 198 – bon po (II) 109 – name for Gurung and Tamang (II) 109 Se La (II) 109 Se-hu (II) 108 Se-khun (II) 107, 109 Se-re-khri (II) 108

Se-ru (also bSe-ru) (clan) (I) 312, 343, 500–502, 510, 535; (II) 87, 89–91, 93–94, 96, 99–100, 107–109, 113, 115–116, 133–136, 138–139, 146, 198, 218 Se-ru (also bSe-ru) (community) (I) 498–499, 500–501; (II) 109 → bSe-ru; → bSe-ru’i yul-ljongs Se-ru’ (II) 108 Se-tong (also Se-tong-pa) (II) 108 Seb (gSeb maps) (I) 306 seefu (I) 62, 368, 390, 410–411; (II) 42, 75 → sifu Seele, Claudia (I) 75 sel (I) 100 – as lam sel (I) 371–372, 401; (II) 33–34, 346, 347–349 pls. 314–316 – as sman sel (I) 370–373, 349–351 pls. 316–318 – ablution with pure water (I) 400–401 –, cultural origins of (I) 130–131 –, definition of (I) 71, 257 – for hearth (I) 135–136 – for pho lha group (I) 100–101, 371–373 – in Sel rabs cycle (I) 121, 130, 132 map 5, 370–371; (II) 35, 268, 346, 347–366 pls. 314–333 –, origin of fire in (I) 120–122; (II) 365–366 pls. 332–333 –, origin of iron in (I) 219–223 – with bird calls (I) 73–74, 130, 371; (II) 33–35, 353–354 pls. 320–321 – with fragrant smoke (I) 138, 239, 401; (II) 268-276, 362–365 pls. 329–332 – with lustration (I) 136–138; (II) 351–353 pls. 318–320 –, Ya-ngal Gyim-kong, as initiator of (I) 103, 130–131, 133–145, 371; (II) 354–362 pls. 321–329 Sems-can Bya’i Phya-dkar (I) 122 Seng-ge rDzong Ne-ring (I) 315, 317, 344; (II) 119 → Mon-kha Na-ring Sengge rDzong Ser-mo (I) 500; (II) 109, 287 Ser-sgom (II) 91 Serkhadrupzhi (I) 543–544 Serm (I) 500; (II) 109, 287 Sermu (I) 500; (II) 109 Sertipa (I) 429; (II) 106, 289 Seru (I) 191, 498–499; (II) 100, 109, 264 → Se-ru Seti Chu (II) 109 Se’u (I) 500; (II) 108 sexual fluids (I) 49, 61–62, 340, 369; (II) 159–160, 163, 171, 181, 345 sexual intercourse (I) 209, 293, 340, 346, 349 –, mimicking of (I) 17, 209, 293, 349, 369, 379, 547 sexual organ → phallus –, clitoris (I) 340–341 – of horse (I) 207, 346, 379, 515, 521; (II) 187 –, penis (I) 125, 209, 340, 369, 379, 491 –, songs and chants about (I) 17, 62, 125, 207, 340, 209, 346, 357–358, 365, 381 –, symbolic representations of (I) 17, 55, 57, 62, 129–130, 258, 355–357, 358 pl. 112, 369, 379, 380 pl. 123, 383, 486, 490 pl. 168, 491 pl. 169, 515, 521, 543, 547, 548 pls. 190-191; (II) 9, 165, 187 –, vagina, vulva (I) 62, 209, 346, 357, 365, 381, 491; (II) 160 sGam lHa-bo lHa-sras (I) 61, 107–108; (II) 13, 141 sGam-chen Pha-wang (I) → bat; → sGam-po Pha-wang; → sGam Pha-wang Yer-zur – as culture hero (I) 118–122

487

Source of Life

– as messenger (I) 103, 107 – as trickster (I) 111 –, eloquance of (I) 117–118 –, meaning and etymology of name (I) 103, 105, 108–109 –, morphological ambivalence of (I) 111–113, 115–116 – narratives (I) 106 map 3, 122–126, 326, 354, 359–367, 392–393, 403 – rite at Tsango (I) 359, 360 pl. 133, 366 pl. 115, 367–368 –, spoken forms of name (II) 140 fig. 30, 141–142 sGam-chen Pha-wang Ye-zur (also sGam Pha-wang Yer-zur) (I) 113, 118, 266 sGam-po Pha-wang (I) 119–120 sGam-po Phywa (I) 364 sgo lha (I) 85 sGong-nga sGong-cung (I) 133 sGrib La (II) 119, 136, 229 sgrung (I) 168, 314, 321 → drong sgrung mkhan (I) 168 sgrung pa (I) 168 sha slungs (I) 39, 368; (II) 39–40, 43, 47–51, 53, 59, 60–61, 62 pls. 201–202, 63, 64 pls. 203–204, 65, 66 pls. 205–206, 67, 68 fig. 26, 69–72, 75, 81–82, 242–243, 249–251, 302, 310, 313–314 → shalung; → sman; → ste’u; → Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript Sha-li-brtse (II) 91 Shag-shig-ma (II) 135 Shakya Thub-pa (also Sha-kya Thub-pa, Shakya Thubpa) (I) 152–153, 357 shalung (I) 536 pl. 185, 537, 538 pls. 186–187, 539–542; (II) 81, 302, 310–312, 313 pl. 300, 314 shaman(s) → bon shaman – and Shamanism (I) 4, 165; (II) 244 –, definition of (I) 163–165 – of Siberia (I) 4, 6, 46, 70, 73, 99, 154, 163, 173, 201, 204, 221, 243, 252, 259, 271, 291, 296–297, 343, 359, 378, 546; (II) 19, 182 –, text-reading (I) 4, 22, 32, 37, 164, 214, 227–230, 240, 447; (II) 20, 149–150, 201, 213 – within inter-regional shamanic tradition-complex (I) 5, 46, 53, 163, 197, 245, 255, 290; (II) 254 Sham-po (II) 24–25, 28 Sham-po lHa-rtse (II) 18 shang shang (I) 466; (II) 278 Shangs (II) 117 Shangs-lha Rum-bu (I) 250 Shar (clan) (I) 313, 500; (II) 87 → Shar-mo Shar (community) (I) 498–501; (II) 230 → Shar-tsho Shar Ba-mo (II) 106 Shar Dom-kha (I) 540; (II) 123, 249, 314 Shar Dong-kha (I) 540; (II) 123 → Shar Dom-kha Shar Dung (I) 6, 37; (II) 244 → Dung –, bon ritual culture of (II) 124–126 –, hypothetical language(s) of (II) 126–127 – migration (I) 175, 212, 255, 311, 335–337, 510; (II) 1, 2, 85, 129–130 – origin lake motif (II) 122–123 –, political discourse of (II) 115–116 –, possible clans of (II) 86–87, 129, 134–136, 138, 143, 144 map 11, 145–146 – routes across Himalayas (II) 119, 120 map 9, 131 fig. 29, 132 – territory and range (II) 10, 34, 117–119, 120 map 9, 121, 221, 223

488

–, Tibetan defeat of (II) 117–118 –, toponyms associated with (II) 120–121, 134 map 10 Shar Dung-mtsho dKar-mo (II) 122 → Dung-mtsho Shar Gangs-ri dKar-po (I) 547 Shar La-’og Yul-gsum (I) 500 → La-’og Yul-gsum Shar Mon (II) 249 Shar sDe-rang supplement in Rgyal rigs (I) 40, 501; (II) 105, 289 Shar Tong-pa (II) 140 Shar-drug Chos-pa (I) 89 Shar-mo (I) 313, 500 Shar-rdza bKra-shis rGyal-mtshan (II) 34–36 Shar-tsho (clan) (I) 500 → Shartsho (clan) Shar-tsho (community) (I) 500–501; (II) 106 → Shartsho (community) Shartsho (clan) (I) 313–314 Shartsho (community) (I) 498–499, 513 Shawa (I) 311, 546; (II) 100, 254, 263, 267 –, ancestral deity of (I) 53, 96 fig. 1, 97, 534 –, Me rabs from (I) 120–121 –, Pcha shrine at (I) 272 pl. 94 –, ritual horn at (I) 209 –, ritual journey from (I) 254 fig. 8, 255; (II) 131 fig. 29 –, sel rite manuscript from (II) 346, 347–366 pls. 314–333 –, Tshan rabs from (I) 136–137 –, white rock at (II) 185 pl. 218, 187 Shazila (I) 407 She-le Ru-tshe (II) 201–202 sheep (I) 157, 178, 184, 221, 363, 426, 431–433, 444, 487, 489, 555; (II) 34, 136, 232, 233 → g.yang; → rNgon-po-rtsa – as flying mount (I) 84, 91, 112, 114, 122, 186, 267, 361; (II) 28, 146, 242 – as psychopomp (I) 186; (II) 28, 74 – as ransom animal (I) 455, 462–463, 472 fig. 19, 480 –, bdud (I) 147 –, door of (II) 44, 181 – meat and dietary rules (I) 178, 298, 429 – of lha (I) 393 – sacrifice (I) 315, 326, 344, 351–353, 487, 537, 541; (II) 172, 178, 184 – skin used for capes (II) 215, 216 pls. 248–249, 217, 218 pl. 250, 219 map 13, 238 map 17 –, white (I) 84, 91, 112, 122, 185, 221, 393, 455; (II) 169, 172, 234 – wool as ritual material (I) 47, 84, 185, 212; (II) 22, 130, 198 – words in Tibeto-Burman languages (I) 84, 185; (II) 153, 281, 309 Shekhar (I) 209, 309 → Shel-mkhar Shel (II) 116 → Shel-phu Shel brag ma (I) 8, 34–36 Shel-mkhar (I) 89, 137, 209, 253, 315 Shel-phu (II) 91–94, 96, 116, 135 Shel-yul-stod (II) 46 shelha thekar (I) 260, 398 → gShen-lha Thod-dkar; → headgear Sher-re (II) 94, 100 → Sher-re Chu Sher-re Chu (II) 96, 99, 135, 263 Sherdukpen → Mee Shere Chu (Sher-re Chu maps) Sherpa (I) 101, 429 Sherphu (II) 96, 134 map 10, 135 → Shel-phu

Inde x

Shes-rab Me-’bar (II) 135–136 She’u (II) 263 Shǐ gŭ tzè (II) 156 Shingkhar (II) 257–258 Sho (I) 313–314 Shog-brag (II) 106 Shong Chimey (I) 35 Shorea robusta (Sal tree) (I) 401 Shu (also Shu’d) (II) 139, 140, 259 Shutimo (I) 96 fig. 1; (II) 254 → Dur-ti-mo Si (II) 109 Si-le-ma (II) 58 pl. 200, 306 Si-mi-mkhar (I) 461–462 Sib-sib La (I) 311; (II) 96, 119, 136 Sibsib La (Sib-sib La maps) Siberia (I) 65 → shaman(s) Sichuan (I) 2, 215; (II) 132, 149, 162, 215, 221, 233, 235 –, ethnic corridor in western (I) 36 –, Qiang in (I) 111, 116, 119, 139, 180, 227, 259, 548; (II) 70, 155, 185, 188, 202, 222–223, 226 –, speakers of Qiangic and Naic languages in (I) 6, 82, 98, 114, 150, 166, 238 sifu (I) 62, 326, 341, 368–370, 373, 374 pl. 117, 375, 381, 552 fig. 22; (II) 42, 75 → seefu Sikkim (I) 2, 3, 7, 39, 66, 100, 123, 168, 195, 199, 434, 481; (II) 9, 202, 211 Sikung (II) 109 Sikung Chu (II) 109 silk (I) 283, 284 pl. 98, 285, 287, 403, 406, 440, 475, 477, 479; (II) 25, 321 → headgear – and ritual arrow (I) 147, 267, 268, 450 – garment (I) 63, 83, 94, 151, 311, 322, 348, 361; (II) 212–213 – pennant (also scarf) (I) 84, 91, 115 pl. 18, 116, 258, 274, 361–362, 406, 492 –, wings of (I) 73–74, 362 Silk Road (I) 38, 201; (II) 1 – occupied by imperial Tibetans (II) 12, 112, 251 –, Old Tibetan documents from (I) 72; (II) 74, 110, 244, 249 Singchung (I) 31; (II) 262 Singnang Khar (I) 264 Sire La (II) 109 Sirgangri (I) 547 → Sargangri sKar-ma sMin-drug (I) 389 → Pleiades sKar-ma-thang (I) 78, 122–123 → Dung-mtsho sKhad-mong (I) 399 sKos (I) 80 sku bla (I) 49, 252 sku gshen (I) 19, 267, 535; (II) 14–15, 35, 47, 124, 252 sKu-bla Gangs-ri (I) 402; (II) 118 sky → then stages – and earth beings, gender of (I) 317, 368; (II) 157–159, 174, 180–181, 216–217, 233, 306 – as ancestral realm (I) 48, 176, 299, 403, 552 fig. 22, 553; (II) 243 –, top of (I) 64–66, 72, 81, 107, 176, 255, 261, 331, 361–362, 370, 402 – with eighteen levels (I) 331, 333, 341; (II) 146, 159, 182, 187, 242 – with nine levels (I) 65, 261, 361, 403; (II) 43–44, 48 fig. 25 – with seven levels (I) 65

– with thirteen levels (I) 64–69, 101, 150, 268–269, 333, 361, 399, 403; (II) 49, 75–76 – world, descriptions of (I) 16, 64–69, 101, 261, 329, 331, 362–365, 399, 402; (II) 89 sky level names (I) 66 –, Cho-lo-rigs (I) 66 –, dGa’ Sa-le (II) 65 –, dGa’-yel (I) 66 –, gNam-yel (I) 66 –, Kha-cig Ya-le (II) 89 –, Kha-yel (I) 66 –, sPhyi’o bZangs-thag (II) 89 –, sTeng-mel (I) 66 skylark (I) 266–267 skye grib (I) 179, 336, 297 skyes lha (I) 93, 314, 399, 430, 432, 439, 518 sKyes-bu rLungs-btsan (I) 185 → sKyid-bu Lung-btsan sKyi Chu (I) 400 sKyi-ro (I) 130; (II) 44, 72 fig. 27 sKyid-bu Lung-btsan (I) 412, 458, 506 sKyid-mkhar (II) 140 sman (I) 247, 251, 318, 370, 535; (II) 76 – fortress (II) 64 –, gnam (II) 29, 80 –, g.ya (II) 29, 47, 73 – in rnel dri ’dul ba rite (II) 45–47, 48 fig. 25 – in ’o gnyen rite (II) 25, 28 fig. 24, 29 – in sel rites (I) 371–373; (II) 33, 76 – in ste’u and sha slungs rites (II) 51, 53–54, 57–60, 63, 66–67, 68 fig. 26, 69 –, lha (I) 371 –, mirror (I) 372 –, mtsho (II) 29, 34 –, rtse (I) 535; (II) 47 –, [s]gang (II) 29 –, small birds of (II) 65, 74 –, yul (II) 47 sman bon (II) 47, 73 sMan-btsun ’Phyug-mo (I) 242–243 sMan-bu La-se (II) 305 sMan-bu Sheb (I) 535; (II) 91, 305 sMan-bu Yu-ne (II) 305 sMan-dag bTsun-mo (I) 266 sMan-sras (II) 91, 305 sMan-sras sKye-cig (II) 305 sMi-li (II) 223 Smith, Gene (I) 40, 154 Smith, Jonathan Z. (I) 15 sMon-lam rock (II) 63, 306 sMra (I) 107 sMra land (sMra-yul) (I) 107, 133, 139, 411 → Thag-brgyad; → Thang-brgyad sMra Then-ba (I) 107 sMra-ba (also smra ba) (I) 76–77, 90 sMra-gsas Thog-pa (I) 251 sMra-mkhar lDem-pa (I) 133

489

Source of Life

smrang (I) 149, 236, 420; (II) 21, 33–34 sMyos (I) 141; (11) 143 sNa-nam (II) 110 sNam-za’i sNam-khrid-ma (II) 110 sNang-gshen (I) 108; (II) 7, 11, 21, 31–33, 36–37 Snellgrove, David (II) 30, 41 sNgon-mo dGos-blangs (II) 95 sNya-lde Ngag-rtsan (II) 202 sNyags (II) 113, 146 sNyal (II) 251 sNyal-lha (II) 90 sNyal-stod (I) 535 sNyal-stod Dar-ma-gang (II) 90 sNyan-chen Thang-lha (I) 185, 402 sNyan-gsas Has-po (I) 250 sNyog-gdung Bha-rim-pa (II) 106 sNyong La (I) 314, 319, 325, 329, 332–334, 346, 352, 374 pl. 117, 383–384 –, btsan (I) 351, 353 – lHa-btsan dKar-po (I) 315, 319, 353 Sørensen, Per (I) 93 soul (I) 16, 46, 57–58, 262, 359, 403; (II) 10, 345 → mobile vitality principle – basket 273, 445; (II) 235–236 – concept among Himalayan speakers of Tibeto-Burman languages (I) 46, 48–49, 67, 124, 445; (II) 19, 53, 70–71, 80–81, 160, 196 – journey/travel (I) 46, 66, 69, 127, 186, 552 fig. 22; (II) 13, 168 – manifest as insect or bird (I) 46, 123, 124 pl. 21, 547, 548 pl. 190; (II) 79 – of deceased person (I) 70, 73, 278, 552; (II) 79–80, 195 South Asian – buffalo (I) 205 – monsoon (I) 249; (II) 191 – palm leaf manuscripts (I) 215 – political elites (I) 531 – tantra (II) 30 Southeast Asia (I) 65, 72, 74, 214, 420 sPan-rta (II) 94, 265 sPang La (I) 311–312, 319, 384; (II) 119, 135 sPang-chen (II) 119 sPang-chen Thang-lha (II) 90 sPang-dkar Ser-mo (I) 535; (II) 90 sPang-thang Chung-ku (I) 402 sparrow (I) 108; (II) 233 sPa’u-gdung (II) 138 spells (I) 22, 91–92, 166, 218, 225, 227, 275–276, 321; (II) 12, 94, 97, 163 – termed gdams ngag (I) 275, 322 – termed sngags (I) 275, 393 – termed tshig gsum (I) 116, 276, 328, 331, 339, 344, 359, 373; (II) 92, 155 sPhyi’o bZangs-thag (II) 89 spider – as manifestation of vitality principle (I) 46, 547, 548 pl. 190 – as messenger (I) 123 – as trickster (I) 123 –, white (I) 46, 123 sPo-bo (I) 139, 140 pl. 27 sPre’u-ser-po (I) 471

490

sPrin-then-che (I) 69 spring (season) (I) 85, 310, 389, 515–516; (II) 54, 58, 119 → Phed-lha – rites (I) 73, 74; (II) 192 –, ste’u of (II) 54, 58 spring (water) (I) 337, 370, 486; (II) 318 – for ritual ablution (I) 180, 210 pl. 68, 211, 274, 325–326, 341, 353, 384, 450 fig. 18, 456, 517 – in sky world (I) 66 sPu-de Gung-rgyal (I) 83 sPu-rgyal (I) 87 sPyi-gtsug rGyal-ba (II) 123 sri (I) 19, 130, 134, 365; (II) 14, 42–43, 45, 48 fig. 25 sri bon (I) 134 srid (also srid pa) (I) 22, 80; (II) 32, 183 srid pa gsum (I) 64, 187; (II) 69 Srid-gshen (II) 31–32 Srid-pa (I) 80 Srid-pa Chags-pa’i lHa-dgu (I) 81 Srid-pa Gung-sangs (I) 267 Srid-pa Phywa’i lha (I) 72 srid pa[’i] rgyud bon (II) 10 srid pa rgyud kyi bon po (I) 57, 80 Srid-pa (also Phwya) Yab-lha bDal-drug (I) 51, 93 srid pa’i bon po (I) 57, 80; (II) 22 srid pa’i g.yen dgu (II) 28 → g.yen Srid-pa’i lha → Naxi and Qiang ritual cultures, compared with Srid-pa’i lha cult – as classificatory term (I) 21–22, 80 – cult, definition of (I) 13–17 –, etymology of term (I) 22 – in Buddhist context (I) 81 srid pa’i lha rgyud (I) 49, 246; (II) 20–21 Srid pa’i mdzod phug (I) 94 srin (also srin po) (I) 61, 71, 113, 326, 420, 506; (II) 13, 16–17, 28, 42–43, 47, 48 fig. 25, 67, 72 fig. 27, 73, 277 Srin-mo dPun-dgu (I) 506 Sring-mo lHa-lcam (II) 18 Srin-po (I) 118–123 srog (I) 45, 47, 146, 419, 543 srog lha (I) 100, 239, 371, 372; (II) 274 srog mkhar (I) 146 pl. 33, 147, 450 srog shing (I) 543 Srog-lha gNyan-chen (I) 251 Srol-mag-’khar (II) 92 Srong-btsan sGam-po (I) 93; (II) 108 Ssà (II) 197 Ssú (I) 47, 67, 68 pl. 10; (II) 236 staff (also sceptre) (I) 198 → Naxi dtô-mbà – and phyag shing sceptre (I) 129, 147, 148 pl. 34 – as Ephedra stalk of gshen (I) 139, 141–143, 146 pl. 33, 147–148; (II) 202 –, bamboo (I) 142, 144 – of dPa’-bo Ro-glud (II) 205 – of lha and Phywa (I) 83–84, 91, 514, 516 pl. 180; (II) 89 – of Qiang shaman (II) 202 – of Mra nyibu (I) 142 pl. 31, 143 pl. 32, 144; (II) 202

Inde x

sTag-bu gNyan-gzigs (II) 112 sTag-cha ’Al-’ol (II) 123 sTag-cha Yal-yol (I) 177 sTag-gsas Khro-bo (I) 251 sTag-la Me-’bar (I) 152, 329 sTag-lha Me-’bar (I) 317, 505; (II) 277 sTag-ma gDung (II) 140–141 sTag-pa Ting-rum (I) 61 sTag-ri gNyan-gzigs (II) 108 sTag-skya-bo (I) 471, 506 sTag-tshal (II) 120 sTags-lha Me-bar (II) 94, 97 → sTag-lha Me-’bar sTan-mang (I) 312, 318 sTangs-kyi ’O-rje bTsan-po (II) 24 star(s) (I) 65, 69, 70, 121, 261, 270, 465; (II) 75, 89, 123, 206 → Pleiades – as ransom item (I) 476 – bon (I) 89–90 – g.yen (II) 29, 48 –, of Ursa Major (II) 217, 219 – profile towers (II) 222 pl. 255, 223 ste’u (I) 39, 65, 368; (II) 39–40, 43, 47–49, 51, 52 pls. 194–195, 53, 54 pl. 196, 55, 56 pl. 197, 57 pls. 198–199, 58 pl. 200, 59, 68 fig. 26, 69–73, 75–82, 242–243, 249–251, 302, 314 → sha slungs; → sman; → Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript Ste’u and Sha slungs manuscript (I) 38–39, 41, 76–77, 91, 105, 218, 228, 256, 300, 333; (II) 29, 33–34, 36, 39–40, 42, 49, 51, 53, 55, 60, 70–77, 79, 81–82, 117, 122, 124, 126, 141, 302–305, 314 Stein, Rolf (I) 6–7, 18, 22, 24, 52, 80, 88, 100, 145, 150, 186, 221, 269, 464; (II) 28, 72, 74, 108, 110, 114, 205, 214, 223, 249, 251 sTob-po-che (I) 471 Stockhausen, Alban von (I) 549 ston pa → Tenpa Shenrab – meaning tenpa ritual specialist (I) 168, 505 – title of gShen-rab in Bshad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu (II) 13 – title of gShen-rab in Srid-pa’i lha cult (I) 103, 118, 133, 145, 146 pl. 33, 147, 150–152, 185, 326, 354, 392, 402–403, 405–406, 412; (II) 17–18, 24, 93, 97, 140 – title of gShen-rab in g.Yung-drung Bon (I) 108, 145, 154, 187, 189 pl. 40; (II) 30 – title of messenger bat (I) 118, 361–365 – title of ’o bon (II) 24–25 stone(s) → altar, stone slab; → Ar-mo-leb; → white rock – as door (I) 263, 272 pl. 94, 274 – as talisman (I) 48, 271, 273–275, 277, 407, 408 pls. 133–134, 409, 422 –, flint (I) 120–121, 123 – for divination (I) 271–275 –, hearth (I) 98–99, 136, 225, 329, 358, 540; (II) 157, 319 –, Pcha (I) 271–275 – stelae (I) 370 pl. 116, 373; (II) 184 pls. 216–217, 185 sTong (II) 17 sTong-btsan Ba-gi (II) 105 sTong-btsan Yul-bzung (II) 105 sTong-lha Zer-zer (II) 90 sTong-nyid Chen-po (I) 152

stronghold (mkhar) (I) 72, 280, 342; (II) 132, 215, 318 → tower(s) – as basis of earlier settlement (I) 280, 281, 436, 500; (II) 91, 105–106, 109, 132, 136, 142–143, 315 – as sha mkhar slungs ma (II) 61–63 –, mkhar bsang purification of (I) 239; (II) 132, 268, 274 –, mkhar lha of (II) 94, 132 – of Dung (I) 98; (II) 117–118, 128, 131–133, 137, 142–143, 221 – of lha (I) 66, 101, 133, 263, 347, 448, 483; (II) 25, 60, 63–64 –, primordial (I) 89, 133, 411; (II) 18, 23–24, 90 –, rtse lha of (I) 85, 354; (II) 132 Subansiri River (I) 7, 111; (II) 118, 215 –, Mra, Na and Bai peoples of (I) 144, 196, 205, 225, 227, 230–231, 232 pls. 257–258, 233–234, 235 pl. 259, 236 pl. 260 –, nyibu shamans of (I) 142 pls. 30–31, 143 pl. 32, 175, 195 pls. 53–54, 213, 222 pls. 77–78, 223; (II) 202, 236–237, 267 Sui (II) 222 Sum-pa (I) 221; (II) 110–111, 243 Sum-pa lCags-rgyal (II) 110 Sum-ru (II) 110 sun (I) 65, 90, 155, 256, 457, 459, 476; (II) 55, 75 – and moon paired (I) 75, 270, 412, 458, 471; (II) 13, 16–17, 54, 58, 68 fig. 26, 74, 89, 217, 284 swallow (bird) (I) 73, 112; (II) 74 sword (I) 133, 220–221, 352, 509, 544; (II) 79, 110, 133, 165, 173–174 Szî chúng bpò’ (I) 67, 68 pl. 10, 114 pls. 16–17, 115 pl. 18 Ta-li (II) 140 → Tali Tabi (rTa-bi maps) (I) 96 fig. 1, 97, 209, 274, 293, 306, 381, 545–546; (II) 76–77, 254 Tagin (II) 232 takin (I) 139, 158, 534, 536–537; (II) 66, 234, 307, 310, 322 Taksing (II) 231, 234 Taladar (I) 279–280 Tali (II) 139, 259 Tamang (I) 5–6, 20, 173, 176, 180, 245–246, 292, 510, 548–549; (II) 1, 10, 12, 109, 245, 277 Tamdringang (I) 199 tamro (I) 221 pl. 70; (II) 197 Tamshul (gTam-shul maps) Tamu (also Tamu-mai) (I) 6, 47, 123, 221–223, 229, 262, 548; (II) 12, 20, 70, 78 fig. 28, 78 pl. 208, 79, 109 → Gurung Tang (valley) (I) 28, 85, 123, 167, 185, 198–199, 246, 303, 555; (II) 257, 346 Tang (also tang) (deities) (I) 437, 455, 467 – worship at Tangsö’i sa (I) 449, 450 fig. 18, 455, 467, 468 pl. 149 Tang Dynasty (II) 222, 227 Tangmachu (I) 67, 306, 541–542, 549; (II) 255 Tangut (I) 98; (II) 107, 114 → Xixia – language (I) 98; (II) 114, 153 Tani languages (I) 5, 7, 47, 110, 124, 143, 165, 179, 193, 213, 244, 548; (II) 12, 140 fig. 30, 231–232, 247 Tap La (I) 254 fig. 8, 255 Tarim Basin (II) 108, 249, 251–252 Tashiyangtse (I) 8, 309; (II) 86, 96, 135, 260, 263 Tashiyangtse Dzong (bKra-shis Yang-rtse rDzong maps)

491

Source of Life

Tawang (rTa-wang maps) (I) 8, 28, 35–36, 92, 99, 155, 158, 343, 387, 427, 531–532; (II) 105, 108, 208, 211 –, bon shamans of (I) 173, 184, 191, 192 pls. 46–47, 193 pls. 47–49, 195, 275–276, 447, 465; (II) 207, 277, 279 –, clans of (I) 312–314, 317–318, 436, 481, 497–505, 510, 515, 517–518, 522–523, 525; (II) 96, 106, 229 –, Pla festival of (I) 281, 285, 317, 321, 367, 480, 497–529 – within Srid-pa’i lha cult region (I) 25, 31, 72, 81, 91, 93, 97, 122, 184, 199, 245, 279, 291, 293, 319, 355, 471, 486; (II) 87, 89, 100, 159, 213, 261, 263–264 Tawang Chu (rTa-wang Chu maps) (I) 27, 312, 498–499; (II) 100–101 taxation (I) 29, 157, 432 – and khral pa taxpayers (I) 35, 323; (II) 141, 192, 315 – and social organisation (I) 35, 388, 428, 445, 503–504, 556 – in Bhutan (I) 33, 311–312, 556 – in Mon-yul Corridor (I) 33, 35, 427, 463, 525 –, migration due to (I) 29, 33, 311, 387, 425 Taya Gap (I) 280–281, 285; (II) 141 Tchat Sowai festival (I) 31; (II) 197, 262 Tenpa Shenrab (also tenpa shenrab) (I) 150, 168, 505 Tewo (I) 18, 126, 149; (II) 251 thab bon (I) 103–105, 135 thab lha (I) 85, 136 → hearth thabs (I) 14, 23; (II) 33 Thag-brgyad (I) 139 → Thang-brgyad Thang La (I) 329 Thang-brgyad (I) 107, 133 Thang-lha (I) 125 Thang-nga (I) 247, 251 Thangrung (I) 96; (II) 254 Them-spang (I) 430–431 → Thempang Thempang (Them-spang maps) (I) 40, 305, 503, 507, 510, 519–520, 525; (II) 261 → Bapu; → Bapu Lhasöshe; → lha’i bu; → tsangmi –, clans of (I) 312, 425, 428, 429 fig. 15, 430 fig. 16, 431, 433–346, 349, 442–446, 489, 500, 502, 536: (II) 103, 174–175 –, Dirkhi Dzong ruins at (I) 425, 436–437; (II) 143 –, social history of (I) 30–31, 425–437, 439–441, 445–447, 463, 547; (II) 85–87 then (also ’then) stages (I) 64, 69; (II) 29, 265 Then-che (also Then-rje) (I) 69 The’u-bzhug (II) 53 The’u-yug (II) 53 Thig-le-mo (I) 469 ’Thing-se-zhe (also ’Things-se-zhe) (I) 82; (II) 94, 98–99, 146, 263 Thod-dkar → Thod-dkar-lcog –, lHa bon (I) 89 –, lHo bon Mon bon (I) 93, 185 –, tshan bon (I) 103, 105, 135 Thod-dkar-lcog (I) 135 Thomas, Frederick W. (II) 60, 108, 110 Thong (I) 31; (II) 103 Thongling (I) 62 Thor-cog (also Thor-lcog, mTho-spyod) (I) 133–137, 371; (II) 14 Thouzhe (I) 281 → Tho’u-zhe Tho’u-zhe (also Tho’u-bzhe, mTho’u-bzhe, Tho’u-rje) (I) 82, 175, 281, 360, 365,

492

367; (II) 91, 98, 146, 156, 159, 237 thrush (I) 274, 295; (II) 311 → Myophonus caeruleus Thukshang (Phu) (I) 264; (II) 262 Thunpey (I) 96 fig. 1; (II) 254 Tibet Autonomous Region (I) 27; (II) 230 Tibetan Buddhism (I) 7, 14–15, 25, 33, 41, 126, 153–154, 250, 300, 498; (II) 7, 30, 69, 128, 145, 244, 248 –, gter ma tradition of (I) 66, 167, 434; (II) 3, 115 –, rigs lnga scheme of (I) 245, 465; (II) 278 Tibetan gazelle (I) 535; (II) 54, 66, 74, 153, 309 pl. 297, 323 Tibetan language (I) 3–5, 9, 14, 22, 32, 37, 88, 316; (II) 237 → Old Tibetan –, Bathang dialect of (II) 176 –, Kongpo dialect of (II) 127, 238 –, Lhodrak dialect of (I) 146, 168; (II) 126–127 –, Nyangpo dialect of (II) 238 Tibeto-Burman languages (I) 1–2, 227, 276, 425, 438, 441; (II) 110, 162, 243, 317 –, eastern Himalayan societies speaking (I) 6, 46–50, 65, 67, 98, 115, 123–124, 136, 144, 149, 163, 177, 197, 211, 219, 299, 373, 445, 550; (II) 12, 53, 70, 75, 80, 110, 136, 142, 234 –, non-Tibetic (I) 46, 70, 82; (II) 80, 215, 231, 245, 249 – of Bhutan (II) 247 – of Brahmaputra Basin (I) 539, 313 Tomzhangtshen (I) 387–388; (II) 260 Tong Zawaka (I) 158, 536 → Ata Shabchang Torrance, Thomas (II) 156, 165–166, 178 fig. 35, 182–183, 185 tower(s) (II) 132, 137, 215, 220 pls. 251–253, 221 map 14, 222 pls. 254–255, 223, 225, 237, 238 map 17 → stronghold Trachypithecus spp. (golden langur) (II) 205 Trans-Himalayan – ethnography (I) 5; (II) 149 – languages (I) 2 – trade (I) 452 tree(s) (I) 47, 54–55, 64, 70–71; (II) 284, 328 → lha shing; → specific tree names – as hunting trap (I) 547, 548 pl. 190 – as ransom item (I) 421, 477 –, birch (I) 329, 332; (II) 266 –, Bodhi (I) 401 → Ficus spp. –, Chandosing (I) 515, 519 –, fir (I) 156, 261, 283, 332, 402; (II) 45, 266 –, juniper (I) 68 pl. 10, 136, 167, 190, 237, 250, 267, 270, 283, 363–365, 367, 392–393, 395, 401; (II) 54–55, 56 pl. 197, 58, 68 fig. 26, 75, 168–170, 181, 184–185 –, kog la (I) 332 –, kog shing (II) 266 –, Mu-le Grum (I) 71; (II) 55 –, ninefold classification of (I) 130, 138, 220, 329, 401; (II) 45, 71 –, oak (I) 70, 257, 536, 538, 544, 547; (II) 158, 168–169, 181 –, origin narrative of (I) 458 –, pine (I) 129, 257; (II) 78 pl. 209, 79, 181, 266 –, plantain (I) 511 –, rGya (II) 55–56 –, rTing-dkar (I) 365 –, shargremshing (I) 204, 257, 473, 538

Inde x

–, shog shing (II) 265–266 –, smar shing (II) 266 –, stag shing (II) 266 –, wang bu (II) 266 –, wang shing (I) 156, 402 –, zhogo shing (II) 266 – Yong-su gSo-bstong (II) 184 trickster (I) 109–111 –, Abo Tani as (I) 110 –, bat as (I) 99, 103, 105, 110 map 4, 111, 115, 118–119, 122–124, 126, 300; (II) 141–142, 233, 237, 242 –, bird as (I) 122 –, grasshopper as (I) 123 Trisa (II) 131 fig. 29, 258 – bon po (I) 170, 269–270, 453; (II) 265, 267 Trongsa (Krong-sa maps) trousers (I) 321; (II) 193, 211 –, blagkar (II) 212 pl. 246 –, gyi-dtu (II) 212–213 Ts’á’-khù’-bû-bù mí (II) 159, 174, 180 Tsag-sa Wa-bzhugs (II) 119 Tsamang (I) 62, 86, 125–126, 388; (II) 255 Tsamang Gewog (II) 145, 255 Tsamangkha (II) 145 → Chocha-ngacha Tsang-ngu (I) 543 tsangmi (ritual specialist) – as sangmin at Phudung (I) 540 – as tsam at Lhau (I) 504 – at Thempang (I) 437, 443–444, 453, 454 pl. 145, 456, 467, 468 pl. 149, 480, 484, 486–487, 489, 490 pl. 168, 491, 493; (II) 171, 175 – at Tsango (I) 314, 323–324, 345–349, 351–352, 358; (II) 228 – at Yewang (I) 264 – written gtsang mi (I) 257, 289, 314, 360, 443, 504 Tsangmupa (I) 264 → gTsang-mo Tsango (rTsa-ngo, rTsang-rgo, brTsang-ngo maps) (I) → lhami –, Bon rgyud narratives from (I) 151–153, 156–157 –, clans of (I) 313–314; (II) 227–229 –, deities at (I) 96 fig. 1, 97, 314–315, 317–319 – Lhamoche festival (I) 281, 304–305, 309–23, 324 fig. 10, 325–327, 328 fig. 11, 330 fig. 12, 331–384 –, settlement ruins at (I) 310 pl. 104, 311 –, social history of (I) 309–315 Tsangpo (gTsang-po maps) Tsari (I) 143; (II) 232 Tse La (I) 427, 433 Tsering Gyalbo (I) 93 tshan (lustration rite) (I) 63, 130–131, 133, 136–138, 187, 213, 257, 266, 371, 382; (II) 7, 33–34, 76, 185, 268, 346, 351–353 tshan (also mi tshan) (clan) (I) 35, 425, 428–429, 433–434, 439, 445–446, 489, 492, 501, 510, 536; (II) 289 tshan bon (I) 103, 104 fig. 2, 105, 133–135, 137, 371; (II) 13, 14 → Thod-dkar; → Thor-cog Tshangla (I) 3, 426; (II) 125, 173, 259–263 –, Dirang (I) 9, 428, 435, 441, 484; (II) 136, 138

–, practice of Srid-pa’i lha worship among speakers of (I) 489, 536, 547; (II) 247 –, spread of Srid-pa’i lha cult among speakers of (I) 28 map 2, 30, 388, 427, 447; (II) 145, 154, 248 –, Srid-pa’i lha cult terminology in (I) 20, 81, 261, 296–297, 435–436, 439, 441, 444–445; (II) 136, 138, 140 fig. 30, 142, 151, 154, 206, 310–311, 313 Tshangs-pa (I) 63, 86, 93–94, 98, 137; (II) 34–35 Tshangs-pa gDong-bzhi (I) 54, 261 → Tshangs-pa tshe → life; → tshe bzhengs; → tshe phog; → tshe ring – and g.yang, as gendered pair (I) 50–51; (II) 159–160 – as ancestral disposition of shaman (I) 52, 176 – as life, vitality, male virility (I) 50–56, 58, 60–61, 267 – as time, lifespan (I) 51, 325 tshe bum (I) 83, 90 pl. 11, 91, 136, 348, 364 tshe bzhengs (I) 165 tshe myi (I) 141, 175; (II) 45, 71, 281 → mtshe mi tshe phog (I) 55, 292, 349, 381, 415 tshe phrum (also tshe frum) (I) 58 pl. 4, 451 pls. 143–144, 450, 473, 475 pl. 155; (II) 170, 175 tshe ring (I) 51–52, 287; (II) 326 Tshe-dbang lHa-mo (I) 481, 482 pl. 162; (II) 230 Tsheng-mi (II) 94, 263 Tshes-pong (II) 94, 96 tshogs (I) 166, 179, 285, 297, 413, 437 –, definition of (I) 55 – for Ha festival (I) 541–542 – for nawan bokpey rite (I) 413, 414 pls. 137–139, 415 – for Phed-lha rite (II) 192 – for Pla festival (I) 517, 518 pl. 181, 519 – for shalung rite (I) 536, 540–541; (II) 261 – for tsheshomba offering (I) 449–451, 455, 473, 475 pl. 155, 484–487, 492 –, transfer of vitality through (I) 58, 179, 373, 397, 409, 540 Tshongs-sa rGor-kha (II) 90 Tshosum (I) 497–503, 515–516, 522–523, 525; (II) 100, 138 Ts’ò mbêr ssáw (I) 77–78; (II) 156, 174, 176, 180–181 Ts’ò-zâ’-llú’-ghû’gh (also Ts’ò) (II) 159, 174, 176 Tsona (mTsho-sna maps) Tsong-legs-ma (I) 471 Tucci, Giuseppe (I) 54; (II) 117 Tulung La (I) 427 turban → headgear Turkestan (I) 38; (II) 72 Ü-mo (II) 157–158 Ü-mu (II) 158 U-ra gDung (II) 116–117, 137 → gDung lineage U-ste Ngam-pa (I) 266 umpa (ritual specialist) (I) 205, 207, 209, 237, 241, 274, 281, 283, 285, 287, 289, 378, 546; (II) 187, 271 Ung-bya dKar-mo (I) 122, 184 Upper Mangdep (I) 29 Ura (I) 67, 69, 85, 99, 119, 123, 184, 198, 422, 557; (II) 189, 257, 346 –, g.Yag-lha rite at (I) 303, 453, 555–556 Urtica spp. (nettle) (II) 317

493

Source of Life

vajra (I) 204, 457 Vaccinium serratum (I) 544 pl. 189 Vajrasattva (I) 66 Viburnum cylindricum (I) 204, 257, 473, 538 → tree(s), shargremshing Vitali, Roberto (I) 278 vulture (I) 66, 141; (II) 183, 197, 311 → wing(s) – feather fletching on arrow (I) 267, 354, 361 – gson ma (II) 45 Waddell, Laurence Austine (I) 39; (II) 202 Wam thum (I) 546 Wam-grong (I) 546 Wamling (II) 189, 258 – bon po (I) 197, 205 Wang → Wang-ma Wang La (I) 280, 315; (II) 91, 134 map 10 Wang-ma (I) 280, 430–431; (II) 93, 96 → g.Yo-gdung Wang-ma Wang-ma dPal-la-dar (I) 431 Wang-ma-mkhar (I) 280 Wangchuk Dynasty (I) 33, 312, 387, 531, 556 wayo (also wayo wayo, wa yo) (I) 125, 291–292, 341, 349, 358, 360, 365; (II) 163, 171 Wen Yu (II) 155 Wenchuan (II) 223 West Kameng (I) 8, 40, 430, 526, 547; (II) 261–262 Wettstein, Marion (I) 49 white (I) 56, 74, 75, 129, 136; (II) 317, 322 → bat; → bird; → headgear, thod dkar; → horse; → sheep; → spider – as colour of lha (I) 63, 82–84, 91, 94 pl. 12, 348, 364, 371, 373, 405, 469; (II) 80, 122 – barley (I) 248–249, 440; (II) 25 – ethnonyms (II) 227 – flag, pennant (I) 84, 116, 198, 268–269, 354, 361, 393, 402; (II) 89, 178, 192 – garments of ritual specialist (I) 136, 184, 187 pl. 37, 187, 188 pl. 38, 189 pl. 42, 190 pl. 44, 260, 266–267, 285–286, 321, 331, 398, 480, 543; (II) 24, 156, 202, 206–207, 211, 212 pls. 246–247, 213, 311, 312 pls. 298–299 – incense (I) 268, 361 – lake (II) 122, 183 – mat for lha (I) 84, 271, 348, 354, 393, 406; (II) 184 – offering animal (I) 365, 464, 438–440, 452–453, 454 pl. 145, 455; (II) 169, 172 – ritual awning, tent (I) 129, 274; (II) 56, 57 pl. 199, 77, 78 pl. 208, 79 – ritual cord (I) 258, 259 pl. 90, 310; (II) 22 – sandalwood (I) 363–364 – scarf (I) 84, 115–116, 129, 147, 185, 343, 345, 355, 444, 465, 479, 524 – soil (I) 221, 469 – snake (I) 61, 368 – status markers (II) 234–235 white rock (I) 346, 370, 379; (II) 76, 166, 169, 186 pl. 220, 187 – as origin motif (I) 73, 121, 137, 219, 371–372; (II) 122, 183 – in Ersu rites (II) 182, 185 pl. 219 – in Gzi brjid (I) 122 – in Na myth (II) 231, 234 – in Naxi rites (I) 122, 137; (II) 158, 169, 182–183, 187–188, 234

494

– in Pumi rites (II) 182, 188 – in Qiang rites (I) 122, 137; (II) 157–158, 188, 182–183, 184 pl. 217, 186 pl. 221, 187–188, 190 pls. 222–223, 191, 193 – of rGya (I) 73, 219, 371–372 – of lHa/lha (I) 121, 137, 354, 364, 420; (II) 183–184, 185 pl. 218, 187 wild ass (I) 361, 363; (II) 61–63, 66, 307 wild goat (I) 53, 139, 140 pl. 27, 341, 351, 534, 537, 541; (II) 153, 158, 177, 307, 317 → goral; → Yizhin Norbu wild goose (I) 74, 105, 393; (II) 45, 60 wild pig (I) 138, 298, 535 fig. 21, 544 pl. 189, 545; (II) 91, 93, 170, 234, 280, 309, 322, 324 wing(s) (I) 73–74, 122–123, 417; (II) 23, 281, 310 –, bat (I) 113, 117, 127, 130, 266, 362 –, man born with (I) 77 –, ritual use of (I) 109, 131, 144, 203; (II) 46, 195 –, vulture (I) 131; (II) 28 women (I) 296, 311; (II) 41, 234 → bro mo; → inheritance; → marriage – and g.yang (I) 52–53, 147, 412, 493, 545 – as brewers of alcohol (I) 329, 407 – as consorts of lha (I) 63, 296–298 pl. 103 – as household heads (I) 323, 358, 406 – as ritual participants (I) 166, 326, 355, 356–359, 366 pl. 114, 367, 373, 374 pl. 117, 381, 406 pl. 132, 107, 410 pl. 136, 417, 442, 467, 471, 472 pl. 152, 473, 521, 527, 528 pl. 183, 541 – as ritual sponsors (I) 323, 325, 336, 348, 353, 355–357, 406–407, 484–485, 487, 542 – as zi ritual wives/sisters (I) 296–298, 444–445, 481, 483 pl. 165, 489, 490 pl. 168, 491, 493 –, aspirations for in ritual chants (I) 53, 412, 415; (II) 93, 95 –, fertility rites for (I) 55, 58, 91, 129–130, 326, 349, 368–369, 381 –, married, fertilized by lha (I) 61–62, 91, 207, 297, 368–369; (II) 42, 75 –, men dressed as (I) 415, 416 pls. 140–141 –, mo lha of (I) 94, 100–101, 239, 268, 361–362, 371–372, 400–401; (II) 188, 274 –, traditional garments and adornments of (I) 191, 480–481, 482 pls. 161–163, 483 pl. 164; (II) 207, 208 pl. 239, 210 pls. 242–244, 211 pl. 245, 215, 216 pls. 248–249, 217, 218 pl. 250, 219 map 13 wool (I) 83, 212, 221, 345, 351, 506; (II) 130 → g.yang; → sheep – mat for lha (I) 84; (II) 183–184 –, ritual cords of (I) 47, 259 pl. 90, 260 pl. 91; (II) 22, 169, 187 –, capes of (I) 506; (II) 207, 211, 215, 219 –, ritual specialist headgear of (I) 47, 58 pl. 4, 184–187, 195, 197, 283, 321, 465, 509, 511, 513; (II) 28, 146, 198–199, 201, 228 Xianbei (II) 252 Xixia (I) 98; (II) 107, 114 Ya-lha bDal-drug (I) 212 Ya-ngal (I) 71, 104 fig. 2, 300 → Ya-ngal Gyim-kong Ya-ngal Gyim-kong (I) 121, 130, 135, 138–139, 143, 149, 219; (II) 33, 217, 244 → g.Yung-drung Bon – and sel rites (I) 71, 93, 219, 239, 241, 370–371; (II) 75–76, 131, 132 map 5, 136–138, 304 pl. 290, 346 – as gshen ritual specialist (I) 84, 103–104

Inde x

–, etymology of name (I) 131–134 –, iconography of (I) 138–145, 149 – in Bshad mdzod yid bzhin nor bu (II) 13–14 – in dGa’-thang texts (I) 93, 130, 277–278, 373; (II) 9, 14, 43–45, 76, 303 –, upward ritual journey of (II) 43–46, 48 fig. 25, 49 Ya-ngal mChed-gsum (I) 135 → Ya-ngal Yab-bla bDal-drug (I) 50, 147 Yab-lha brDal-drug (I) 154, 177 Yab-lha Dal-drug (I) 364 yak (I) 55, 221, 303, 367, 422, 426, 555–556; (II) 61, 94, 101, 130, 232 → g.Yag-lha; → horn – as lha g.yag (I) 101, 205, 365, 453, 454 pl. 145 – as ’o g.yag Sham-po (I) 24–25, 28 – as psychopomp (II) 27 – -cow hybrid (I) 464 – hair on shaman paraphernalia (I) 196 pls. 55–56, 206 pl. 62, 321 – meat (I) 429, 433 –, wild (I) 420, 453; (II) 322 Yalang (II) 100, 263 Yalong River (II) 222–223 Yam-mog-rkan (II) 93 Yamdrok Tö (Yar-’brog-stod maps) Yang (I) 135; (II) 111 → Ya-ngal Yang Fuquan (II) 160, 236 Yang-chung (I) 94, 96 Yang-ngal (I) 135 → Ya-ngal Yang-ston (I) 135 → Ya-ngal Yangtze River (I) 139, 141 pl. 28; (II) 176 Yar-’brog mTsho (II) 121 Yar-’brog-stod (II) 119 Yar-kyim-sogs (I) 88 Yar-khyim Sogs-[yar(/kar)] (II) 35, 72 fig. 27, 73 Yar-lha Sham-po (I) 402, 439, 452, 521; (II) 73, 107 Yar-lha Shar-po (I) 185 Yar-lha bSham-po (II) 90 Yar-lung (I) 93, 97, 319, 439, 517, 535 fig. 21; (II) 35, 90, 96, 107, 109, 239 Yar-lung Grong-mo-che (I) 97; (II) 116 Yar-lung Sog-kha (II) 18 Yar-lung Sogs-dkar (I) 88 Yar-lung Zo-thang (II) 90 Yarlha Shampo (Yar-lha Sham-po maps) Yarleng Langchen Chongsa (I) 295 yas stags (I) 419, 452–453, 455 Ye (II) 109, 156, 266 Ye-lha Khri-’bum (I) 69 Ye-mgon rGyal-po (I) 267 Ye-shes Phra-bo (I) 329 Ye-spang (II) 105, 108 → Yewang yellow-throated marten (Martes flavigula) (I) 143 Yewang (I) 56 pl. 2, 58 pl. 5, 59 pl. 6, 78, 204, 298, 427, 438–439; (II) 105, 113, 168–169, 262 – bon po (I) 128 pls. 24–25, 258 pl. 89, 259 pl. 90, 263–264, 473, 507; (II) frontispiece, 187, 207, 208 pl. 238, 267 Yi-lan (II) 94, 100, 263

Yi-mu sei (II) 157–158 Yizhin Norbu (I) 326, 341–345, 347–351, 531, 533; (II) 177-178 → hunting; → nawan Yo-long (I) 231–232; (II) 229 Yo-long-rje (I) 367 → Yo-long Yo-ru (II) 93, 96, 117, 251 Yolmo (II) 10 Yolmowa (II) 10 Yongla Chu (II) 99, 134 map 10 Younghusband (I) 39 Yu-mo (I) 85, 98, 158 Yu-mo-tze (II) 157–158 yul bdag (I) 100, 239, 535, 274 yul lha (I) 85, 100, 239, 372, 399, 535; (II) 192, 274 Yule, Henry (II) 61 Yum-bu Bla-’khar (II) 90 Yum-gsum Gra-ba (I) 96, 98, 197, 534 Yum-phyugs (I) 85 yumin (I) 198; (II) 267 Yunnan (I) 82, 141 pl. 28, 184, 223, 240; (II) 242, 309 –, Drung in north-west (I) 36, 49, 262, 403, 549; (II) 111, 187, 224–225 – in extended eastern Himalayas (I) 2–3, 36, 57, 83, 110 map 4, 163, 164, 185, 198, 215 –, Naxi in north-west (I) 49, 67, 71, 76–77, 113, 155, 165, 213, 219, 245, 273, 333, 351; (II) 1, 20, 149, 193, 196, 198, 201, 215, 217, 224–227, 231, 234–236, 245 –, Nuosu in north-west (I) 548; (II) 150, 158, 201, 209, 227, 233, 235 –, Qiangic and Naic languages in north-west (I) 6; (II) 238 Yur Chu (I) 400 Za-byed dBal-po (I) 250–251 Za Chu (I) 400 Zagunao River (II) 156 Zangling (I) 54, 58, 262–263; (II) 259 – bon po (I) 54, 260, 269; (II) 267 Ze La (I) 27, 31, 425–427, 433, 447, 510, 522; (II) 102, 138, 154, 199 Zhal-dkar (I) 85, 354 Zhal-ngo (I) 34; (II) 115 Zhal-ngo Kheng-po (II) 87 Zhamling (I) 96–97, 273–274, 293–295, 306, 311, 381, 545–546; (II) 76–77, 100, 254 zhang lha (I) 100, 239, 268, 371; (II) 274 zhang po (I) 123 Zhang-zhung (I) 176, 506; (II) 15, 243, 278 Zhang-zhung Mu-lto-ba (I) 141 Zhemgang Dzongkhag (I) 8, 169; (II) 258–260 zhing lha (I) 93 Zho-mo (I) 85 Zhog Glang-gtang-gsum (II) 92 Zhog-’bru (II) 91–92, 106 Zhon-chen (I) 361 Zhon-mo (I) 361 Zhongdian (II) 211, 227 Zhongmi (Byongs-mi, bZhong-mi, gZhong-mi maps)

495

Source of Life

Zhwa’i lha-khang (II) 115 Zil-pa-mo (I) 469 Zil-then-che (I) 69 zizi (I) 179; (II) 103–104, 313 → khikzizi Zo-ba’i Khyung-legs (II) 24 Zo-bo Ring-po (II) 47 → Zo-zo Ring-po Zô-khì k’ô bpô’-lù’ bpò’ (II) 175–176 Zo-zo Ring-po (II) 43, 47

496

Acknowledgements

This was always an ambitious project, and I managed to complete it only by collaborating with many individuals and institutions during my long period of research, analysis and writing. Most important among them for me are those who directly participated in the field research process that provided the foundations of the whole project. I am very grateful to Sangye Tsering (Dirang) and Dorji Gyaltsen (Thimphu), both of whom I regularly employed as fulltime facilitators to gain and maintain access to local communities, and as oral translators of local languages I lacked competence in. I came to respect both men for their skill, integrity, diplomacy and companionship throughout often lengthy and demanding field trips. My friend Gerhard Heller and my wife Mona Schrempf aided me as valuable companions during certain stages of the fieldwork in eastern Bhutan and western Arunachal Pradesh. Both Gerhard and Mona are engaged ethnographic filmmakers, whose video recordings of complex rites and festivals richly supplemented my own observational data for composing the ethnographic documentation. My doctoral student Mareike Wulff, who is a keen observer and talented ethnographic photographer, generously assisted with documentation during the Changmadung Aheylha festival. None of the field research would have been possible without the strong support giving by Dasho Karma Ura, President of the Centre for Bhutan Studies in Thimphu, Bhutan, and the Hon. Chowna Mein, Deputy-Chief Minister in the State Government of Arunachal Pradesh, India. Both men have served as enlightened leaders within their communities, and believe in the value of open and independent inquiry, as well as careful documentation of indigenous social and cultural life. I thank them both for opening doors that were either long closed or difficult for others to pass through.

While I am grateful to the scores of individual persons and families in local communities whose open cooperation and kind hospitality I enjoyed during my long field studies, here it is only possible to mention those with whom I had repeated contacts or whose assistance proved crucial. In Dirang district of Arunachal Pradesh, those persons include Pasang Tsering Sharchokpa, Sangye Lhamu, Lobsang Dorje, Gunthung Ao (a.k.a. Ao Za), Gonpa Ao and Khandu Wangmo, ata Leyki, Trinley Wangchuk, Sonam Tsering, Pema Wangyal, Lobsang Trashi, Rinchen Nyima, Rinchen Tsering, Dor Gunbu, prahme Lobsang Tsering, Tsering Dakpa, yumin Dawa, bonpo Dorje Khesang and his family, Chöchang Wangdi, lama Karchung and Rinchen Drolma. In Tawang district, they include Yangkee Lhamo and Passang Monpa, Passang Khandu, bonpo Tashi, the family of Pema Gombu, Tashi Tsering and Thegtse Rinpoche (alias Khyimnes R inpoche). Sangye Tsering, Passang and their children were always hospitable and fun to visit while I was in Dirang. I remain very grateful to Tage Tada, former Director of the Research Department of the State Government of Arunachal Pradesh, and staff at the State Archives of Arunachal Pradesh for greatly facilitating my research while in Itanagar. The amazing Tapi Mra worked as my research assistant in the upper Subansiri River valley, and I will value his friendship always. During my many field trips into the rugged highlands of Arunachal Pradesh over an eight-year period, the indefatigable Kanak Roy drove me carefully through the mountains. My life was often quite literally in Kanak’s competent hands, and I greatly enjoyed his relaxed companionship, his tutoring in the ways of Assamese society, and his cooking when simply nothing else proved to be edible. Thanks also go to Rintu Nath for his professionalism and support.

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Source of Life

In Bhutan, on multiple occasions I enjoyed the kind hospitality and assistance of Dorji Gyaltsen and his extended family, also Gelong, Yangchen and their family, Yeshe Pemo and family, nepo Wangdi La and family, nepo Trinley Mo and family, and Ama Peldron and Trinley. Consultants on ritual and narrative included lhami Nyima Dorji, Tsewang Phuntsog, Tsewang Dhondup, Tsewang Tobgye, Meme Phurpa, Meme Kunzang, Meme Nanchala, Yeshe Peldron, Meme Jasang, Ayi Tsethar Lhamo, plami Dawa, Ngawang Dargye, Sangye Dorji, Wangdrak, chami Dargye, Tashi Dhondup, Sönam Rigzin, Yangda, Kesang, Trinley, chami Könchog Dorji, Kunzang Namgye, Sonam Rigzin, Chimi Tsering, Wangchuk Dorji, Wangdala, Sonam Dorji, bonpo Tsering Tobgye, bonpo Changchub, bonpo Tshewang Rigzin, bropon Kunzang, bonpo Drakpa, bropon Sangye, Tshewang Dargye, bonpo Rinzin Dorji, bonpo Tshering Lhamo, bonpo Kunley, Trochung, phajo Sangda, phajo Phuntshog, the villagers of Jangphu, lama Yeshe Tseten, sozin Tsering Norbu and lama Ngo Thekpa. Dasho Namgyal Lhendrup kindly encouraged and facilitated my visit to the upper Mangde Chu valley. Kunzang Choeden and Walther Roeder graciously provided me some warm sanctuary in the Tang valley while I wrote up field notes and composed a chapter draft. While passing through Thimphu, I always enjoyed and benefited from the stimulating company and good hospitality of Dasho Karma Ura and his family, Dr. Dorji Penjore and his family, and Kunzang Dorji. I must respectfully mention the late Ney Dasho Tsering Wangdi for providing valuable information despite being on his sickbed. Dr. Yonten Dargyey and the staff of the National Library of Bhutan (Thimphu) were always most helpful when I called into their facility. Thanks go to Françoise Pommaret for sharing information and useful tips when we met in Thimphu. Funding and material support for various stages of the research was provided by the following: the Australian Research Council for the project Reconstructing Eastern Himalayan Histories: languages, plants, and people (2014-2017, with Gwendolyn Hyslop); the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft for the project Monpa Clans in the Eastern Himalaya: Their History, Continuity and

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Contemporary Significance in the Context of State Systems (2011-2012), and the project Between Tibetanization and Tribalization: Towards a New Anthropology of TibetoBurman Highlanders in Arunachal Pradesh (2006-2010); the Humboldt University of Berlin for multiple grants (2003-2015); the Centre for Bhutan Studies and its President Dasho Karma Ura for staff resources (2010-2014); the Victoria University of Wellington for a research travel grant (2002). My special thanks go also to friends and colleagues Guntram Hazod, Gerhard Heller and Jon Miceler for helping me take certain important field research opportunities when the time was right. W h i le I prepared the prel im inar y manuscr ipt for publication, Michael Oppitz was always a source of positive encouragement and assistance, and offered comments on my preliminary draft. Michael also generously shared his research materials and insights on the Naxi, Qiang and Kham Magar peoples. Per Kværne painstakingly read my manuscript drafts and offered many valuable corrections and suggestions. The final draft was improved thanks to a range of comments by two anonymous peer reviewers contracted by the publisher. Marion Wettstein also kindly offered me many constructive suggestions that made the text more concise and accessible. I thank Dondhup Lhagyal for his kind gift of the then newly published volume of dGa’-thang ’Bum-pa-che manuscripts at a dinner party in Lhasa during 2010. That very same evening, I began reading the texts and realised Dondhup’s gift would significantly transform my research perspectives, and indeed it did. I am most grateful to Gwendolyn Hyslop for her patient and informative discussions about linguistics and the East Bodish languages, and for sharing data within the framework of our ARC research collaboration. Karma Tshering kindly shared some of his data from fieldtrips into the Gongdukha speaking area that I was unable to visit myself. Joanna Bialek made many fruitful and interesting suggestions concerning Old Tibetan, and I particularly acknowledge her contribution concerning the translated passage from the manuscript PT 1060 in chapter 14. I read various Chinese sources together with my colleague Huadan Zhaxi in Berlin, and benefitted from our numerous

Acknow ledgem ents

discussions of obscure Tibetan words and phrases. Mona Schrempf patiently finessed my translations from French. Many other colleagues kindly offered advice, stimulating discussions or supplied research materials and data in relation to my project. They include, in alphabetical order of their first names, Alban von Stockhausen, Alexander Smith, Alok Kanungo, Brandon Dotson, Cathy Cantwell, Charles Ramble, Christian Luczanits, Christine Mathieu, Daniel Berounský, Dasho Karma Ura, Deborah KlimburgSalter, Diana Lange, Dorji Gyaltsen, Dorji Penjore, Emilia Sulek, Françoise Pommaret, George van Driem, Giovanni da Col, Guntram Hazod, Henk Blezer, Henry Nolte, John M. Lundquist, Karma Tshering, Katia Buffetrille, Kerstin Grothmann, Libu Lakhi, Lobsang Tenpa, Marietta Kind, Marion Wettstein, Mark Post, Martin Gaenszle, Michael Tarr, Moke Mokotoff, Monia Chies, Nadezhda (Nadia) Mamontova, Nathan Hill, Nicholas Haimendorf, Nyima Woser Choekhortshang, Olaf Czaja, Rebecca Tamut (née Gnüchtel) and Kaling Tamut, Reinier Langelaar, Richard Blurton, Robert Mayer, Sihong Zhang, Stéphane Gros, Stuart Blackburn, Swargajyoti Gohain, Thomas Wild, Tim Bodt, Tsering Thar and Vanessa Cholez. Last but by no means least, my research assistants at the Humboldt University, including Gerald Schreiber, Salome Seitz, Afia-Joy Adu-Sanyah, Azade Toygar, Tatiana Stahlhut and Johanna Prien-Kaplan all provided excellent support for my project over the years. Among them, Johanna played the biggest role in preparing the final text and I greatly benefited from her sharp eye for inconsistency. It is possible I have inadvertently overlooked mentioning others who aided me, and I apologise to them for any such omission.

Academy of Sciences for publication, and his patient attention to all of my questions and problems was indispensible for getting the book to press. The staff at the Austrian Academy of Sciences Press offered good support throughout the publication process. I thank Eva Kössner for useful feedback on the files prior to printing. T.H. Berlin, May 2019

Publication of this book was enabled by a generous grant from the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft. I am extremely grateful to my daughter and designer, Tara Daellenbach, who worked tirelessly in preparing the layout and illustrations prior to printing. Thanks go to Marion Wettstein and Alban von Stockhausen for sharing design information and solutions from their excellent books on the Naga. Melissa Kerin kindly gave me valuable support during the late stages of preparation. Christian Jahoda professionally introduced my manuscript to the Austrian

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