By the time that this account came to be written lake Manasarovar had long been established as the queen of lakes. Among those who extolled its virtues was the great Hindu classical poet Kalidasa, writing in the third century AD, in his lyrical poem, The Cloud-Messenger. Since the days of the Mahabharata, Manasarovar had increased mightily in reputation and sanctity. Indeed, long before the time of Ptolemy it had become the holiest and the most famous lake in Asia, conferring great merit to those who reached its shores:
When the earth of Manasarovar touches anyone’s body or when anyone bathes therein, he shall go to the paradise of Brahma, and he who drinks its waters shall go to the heaven of Shiva and shall be released from the sins of a hundred births. Even the beast that bears the name of Manasarovar shall go to the paradise of Brahma. Its waters are like pearls.
The pilgrim who succeeded in crossing the Himalayas was expected to follow the precepts laid down in the Puranas:
He should bathe there and pour a libation of water to the shades of his forefathers and worship Mahadeva [the great god, Shiva] in the form of a royal swan. He should there make the parikarama of the holy Manasa lake, gaze at Kailas, and bathe in all the neighbouring rivers.
The lake’s growth in status had also been matched by the nearby mountain: from being a mere acolyte to the world-pillar, Kailas had now risen to become its earthly avatar, a physical manifestation of a metaphysical phenomenon. Part of the impetus behind this dramatic promotion must have come from the realization that there really was something quite extraordinary about the hydrography of the Kailas-Manasarovar region. Increased movement by Indian travellers – emissaries, marauders, traders and wandering pilgrims – beyond the northern barriers, particularly during the years of the Ashokan empire in the third and second centuries BC, had led to greater contact with other peoples, and increased knowledge. The time came when enough evidence had been gathered to show that the four largest rivers on the subcontinent – the Indus, Sutlej, Ganga and Brahmaputra – even though they emerged from the mountains many hundreds of miles apart, all had their origins in one small corner of the distant plateaulands beyond the Himlayas. However, this increase of geographical knowledge could only detract from the majesty and mystery of the world-lotus. Without any formal announcement of the change, Meru assumed a purely abstract form – and Kailas took its place.
An equally important factor in the advancement of Mount Kailas was the elevation of Lord Shiva to the top division of the Hindu gods, to take his place beside Brahma and Vishnu in the Hindu holy trinity. Much of the writing in the Puranas is given over to promoting the virtues of one or other of Brahma’s new partners, either Shiva or Vishnu. This rivalry ended in the triumph of the more popular, orthodox cult of Vishnu, the Preserver, over the older, more elemental cult of Shiva, Destroyer and Transformer. The vast majority of modern Hindus as worshippers of Vishnu or one of his more approachable avatars, such as Rama or Krishna. Vaisnavas – followers of Vishnu – are strongest in Northern and Central India; Shaivas are in a majority only in South India and in the Himalayan regions.
Shiva has always been a god of mountains; he is the great lord of yogis, mystics and wanderers, often portrayed seated in a lotus-position on a tiger-skin, ash-smeared and clad only in a deer-skin. He wears his hair piled up into a moon-shaped coil and the moon’s crescent is drawn above the third eye in the centre of his forehead. In his hands he carries a trident and the universal instrument of the shaman, the small hourglass-shaped rattle-drum known as the damaru. As both destroyer and transformer of life he takes many forms. In destructive mood he is Bhairava the terrible, with serpents in his hair and threaded skulls about his neck; as transformer he is worshipped in the form of the phallic symbol, the lingam. From his Aryan predecessor, Rudra, god of the elements, Shiva inherited Kailas as his special abode.
Sharing Shiva’s mountain with him is his shakti, the goddess Devi, who reflects and matches his qualities in female form. In her gentler aspects she is Uma, the light, and Parvati, the mountaineer; in her fiercer avatars she is Durga, the inaccessible, and the hideous Kali, the black one. Her elevation also represents a significant development in Hindu religion: recognition of the worship of the female principle that has always been present in the religion of the subcontinent. One of its more unorthodox manifestations was the growth in the sixth and seventh centuries AD of tantric cults which sought ecstatic enlightenment through the arousal and activation of the male principle by the female. In Hinduism it expressed itself in the tantric cult of shakti, in Buddhism in the tantric cult of the tara goddesses, representing the female creative energy that liberates the male. Thus Shiva acquired his shakti, the lingsam its yoni, the yab its yum.
The cult of tantra plays a key role in the devotional cults of Tibetan Buddhism. The Tibetan counterparts of Shiva and Devi are the four-faced demon Demchog, with his trident and drum, and his scarlet consort Dorje Phangmo – always depicted in paintings and sculptures locked together in athletic sexual embrace. They also have their home on the mountain which they know as Tisé (the peak) or Kang Rinpoche (jewel of snows). But just as Shiva has his progenitor in the Vedic god Rudra, so Demchog has an earlier prototype who was also closely associated with the holy mountain. For not only is Kailas the Olympus of Hinduism and Buddhism; it is also the home of the ‘black belief’, the old shamanistic religion of Bon-Po that flourished in Tibet long before the arrival of Buddhism.
The traditional founder of the Bon religion is said to have looked down from heaven and seen that the Kailas region was well suited to be its stronghold. Old Bon-Po texts describe how the ‘nine-story swastika mountain’ at the heart of their religion had to be moved to its present site from North-Eastern Tibet, which may well refer to the westerly migration of Mongolian peoples across Tibet that took place about two thousand years ago.
The Bon-Po texts also contain the story of the four great rivers, although the Bon version varies in some details from the accounts given in the Puranas. The nearest Tibetan equivalent is found in a book of uncertain date called the Kangri Karchhak (Ice-Mountain Guide). Here it states that a stream flows down from Tisé into the lake Mapham Tso (unconquerable lake). From the lake emerge the four rivers, circling the lake seven times before taking their respective courses to north, south, east and west. The first of these rivers is the Senge-Khambab, the ‘lion-mouth’ river, rich in the sands of diamonds, whose waters flow north and make those who drink from it as brave as lions; flowing south is the ‘peacock-mouth’ river, the Mapchhu-Khambab, rich in silver sands, whose waters make those who drink from it as lovely as peacocks; flowing to the east is the ‘horse-mouth’ river, the Tamchok-Khambab, with sands of emerald and waters that make those who drink from it sturdy as horses; finally, flowing to the west is the Lanchen-Khambab, the ‘elephant-mouth’ river, with sands of gold and waters that make those who drink from it strong as elephants.
Looking further afield, towards China and early Chinese geographical texts, we can find elements from both Indian and Tibetan accounts. In some ways this combination provides the most satisfying account of the Meru-Kailas legends – as in the following cosmography from Ta-T’ang-Hsi-Yu-Chi (Records of the Western World), compiled during the T’ang Dynasty (AD 618–907):
The mountain called Sumeru stands up in the midst of the great sea firmly fixed on a circle of gold, around which mountain the sun and moon revolve. This mountain is perfected by four precious substances and is the abode of the Devas [gods]. Around this are seven mountain ranges and seven seas.
In the middle of the Shan-pu-chao [the central continent] there is a lake called Wo-jo-nao-chih, to the south of the fragrant mountains and to the north of the great snowy mountains. It is 800 li and more in circuit, its sides are composed of gold, silver, lapis lazuli and crystal. Golden sands lie at the bottom and its waters are clear as a mirror. The great earth Bodhisattva transforms himself into a Naga-raja [snake divinity] and dwells therein; from his dwelling the cool waters proceed forth and enrich Shan-pu-cha
o.
As might be expected, there are four of these ‘cool waters’: the Kan-chieh (Ganga) flowing from the mouth of a silver ox; the Hsin-tu (Sindhu) from the mouth of a golden elephant; the Hsito (Sita) from the mouth of a crystal lion and the Fu-chu (Vakshu) from the mouth of a horse of lapis lazuli. The first two can be readily identified as the Ganga and Indus and the third, the Sita, is shown from the text to be associated with the Tarim river, in Sinkiang, and (after travelling a great distance underground) the Hwang Ho. The identity of the last river, the Vakshu, became a favourite subject for academic dispute in geographical circles in the nineteenth century: the most popular view favoured the Oxus.
At the time of the T’ang Dynasty Buddhism had only just begun to gain a foothold in Tibet, and another three or four hundred years were to pass before it could claim to be the predominant faith in the Bon country of Western Tibet. The struggle between the two faiths, which eventually ended with the supremacy of lamaistic Buddhism in the thirteenth century, is nicely symbolized in a famous duel over the possession of the holy mountain that is said to have been fought out between the yogi Milarepa, the champion of tantric Buddhism, and Naro-Bonchung, the champion of shamanism. It took the form of a contest in magic – very much in the manner of two wizards hurling spells at one another – with the contestants finally agreeing that whoever reached the summit of Kang Rinpoche first at dawn the next day should win the mountain. At sunrise Milarepa’s disciples were greatly perturbed to see Naro-Bonchung flying up to the summit mounted on his shamanistic drum, while their own master remained deep in meditation. However, at the last moment Milarepa soared up into the air, overtook the Bon-Po and won the mountain for Buddhism. The vertical gash down the south face of Kailas is said to have been gouged out by Naro-Bonchung’s damaru – dropped by him in his alarm at seeing the yogi overtake him.
Thus the old black gods of shamanism were expelled from Kailas and replaced by lamaistic Bodhisattvas, such as Cakrasamvara, God of Wisdom, or by such acceptable trans mutations as Demchog and his consort. Indeed, even Naro-Bonchung was allowed to keep a nearby hill in the shadow of Kailas as his abode, symbolizing the eventual accommodation between the two rival beliefs that was finally arrived at. Yogi Milarepa himself is often portrayed in religious prints and paintings seated on the holy mountain. He is the first historical figure to be directly associated with Mount Kailas. He spent much of his life in Western Tibet and died in a cave just south of lake Manasarovar early in the twelfth century AD. It is to Milarepa’s tantric school of Buddhism, Vajrayana or the ‘thunderbolt path’, that we owe the mystic, oft-repeated mantra ‘Om mani padme hum,’ the incantation that has been inscribed on countless mani-stones throughout Tibet, Ladakh and Nepal and spoken endlessly by countless millions of Buddhists. The phrase is usually translated as ‘Hail, jewel in the lotus’ but it has a far more profound meaning. The first syllable represents the sound of enlightenment, the most fundamental of all mantras, and the last represents the sound of fulfilment. Encapsulated between the two is the phrase ‘mani padme’, which does indeed translate as ‘jewel in the lotus’ but signifies ‘lingam in yoni’, the mystical and sexual fusion of complementary opposites. It is yab and yum united; Shiva and shakti activated.
Enshrined in Kailas-Manasarovar are the elements of the ecstatic and the anti-orthodox in Indian and Tibetan religion. Its mountain and lakes belong to Shiva and Parvati, to Bon-Po, to Demchog and Dorje Phangmo, to yogi Milarepa. It is, in effect, the repository of the old, dark gods and their earth-goddesses; a mountain of magicians, thunderbolt-hurlers, trident-wielders and drum-shakers. And for more than two thousand years it has been the lodestone – the all but unattainable goal – that draws towards itself all the devotional cults that seek the attainment of bliss through self-sacrifice, austerity and penance. It is the greatest and hardest of all earthly pilgrimages.
2
‘Here Christians are said to live’:
the Jesuit Explorers of Tibet
The first foreigner to attempt a systematic inquiry into the sources of India’s great rivers was the Emperor Akbar, the great Mogul who ruled most of Northern India from 1556 to 1605. One of Akbar’s most attractive qualities was his religious tolerance and his interest in non-Islamic cultures. According to the Venetian adventurer turned court physician, Niccolo Manucci, the Emperor was curious to discover more about the Ganga and the legends surrounding it:
Long before Akbar’s time the peoples in the Indies were persuaded that the Ganges took its source in a high mountain range whose figure resembled that of a cow’s head. In the days of Akbar its source was still unknown, as the source of the Nile was unknown not above an age ago. The Emperor therefore spared no cost to discover the head of a river that was the best jewel in his crown.
An expedition was assembled and dispatched with orders to follow the river northwards to its source. After forcing their way through narrow gorges and untrodden forests, they arrived at a mountain ‘which seemed to be shaped by art into the form of a cow’s head’. Out of it issued a vast quantity of water, which they took to be the source of the Ganga.
The fruits of this first Himalayan venture can be seen on the map used to illustrate Samuel Purchas’s curious travel book, Purchas His Pilgrimes, published in 1625, which purported to be a ‘History of the World in Sea Voyages and Land Travel by Englishmen and Others’. There on Purchas’s map is the Ganga, sited on the edge of the plains at Hardwar rather than in the mountains, but flowing through a cow’s mouth into a lake.
By the time this map was published other foreigners besides Moguls were reaching into the Himalayas. Akbar’s interests extended to Christianity, and in 1580 a Jesuit mission from the Portuguese trading enclave at Goa was invited to attend his court at Agra. These first missionaries at the court of the Great Mogul were greatly excited by stories they heard from wandering sadhus and yogis of a people living beyond the mountains who followed religious practices very similar to those of the Catholic Church. This led to intense speculation among the Jesuits that waiting to be discovered in Tibet was that long-lost Christian civilization, the legendary kingdom of Prester John.
In 1906 manuscript documents were discovered in St Paul’s Cathedral Library in Calcutta which had been written more than three centuries earlier by Antonio de Monserrate, a Jesuit Father who had spent two and a half years at Akbar’s court as tutor to one of his sons. From India, Monserrate had been transferred to Abyssinia, where he made use of six years in captivity to write a long narrative that in some mysterious way came into the collection of Jesuit papers at St Paul’s, Calcutta – where it remains today, untranslated and unpublished. This Latin manuscript contains the first known European reference to lake Manasarovar, incolis Mansaruor:
If the yogis – who visit many territories but tell many lies and mix in legends with facts – are to be believed, there are still surviving Christians there. For many of the priests in the region of the Imae [Himalayas], when asked, spoke as follows: ‘The mountains are steep and difficult to climb but flat on the summit [plateau] and suitable for habitation. On the banks of a certain lake there – which the local people call lake Mansaruor – a certain tribe inhabits a very old city.’
Accompanying the manuscript is a tiny sketch map, measuring five inches by four. Beyond the great arc of the ‘Imaus’ mountains is a large circular lake, marked in bold letters ‘MANSARVOR Lacus’ and accompanied by the inscription ‘Hic dicunter Christiani habitare’ (here Christians are said to live).
The lake itself held no particular interest for the Jesuits; it was the possibility of finding a surviving Christian community that drew them there. The first reconnaissance was dispatched from Agra in 1603 with the highest hopes, but ended in failure. Its leader, Benedict de Goes, died of exhaustion at the Chinese border, north of Koko Nor. Not only had he failed to reach lake Manasarovar, he had even failed to locate the country in which it lay.
Two decades later, in the spring of 1624, a second expedition set out from Delhi. It wa
s led by the head of the Jesuit Mission to the Mogul court, Father Antonio de Andrade, a tough, battle-hardened veteran of the mission field, aged forty-four. Andrade took with him as his lieutenant a younger Portuguese lay brother named Manuel Marques, making up the rest of their party with two Christian servants and locally recruited porters. All we know about this first European expedition over the Himalayas is contained in two short letters from Andrade that were published in Lisbon in 1626 under the grandiose title of Novo Descobrimento do Gram Cathay, ou Reims de Tibet (A New Discovery from Grand Cathay, or the Kingdom of Tibet). The letters reveal an extraordinary faith and stamina on the part of Andrade and Marques but are understandably vague on geographical details. The result was that their claims to have entered Tibet came to be regarded as exaggerated and unreliable. Later generations of European travellers, who crossed into Tibet by the same route, were quite unaware that the Jesuits had been there before them – nearly two centuries earlier.
Andrade and his companion left Delhi disguised as pilgrims and attached themselves to a large party of Hindus bound for the Himalayan shrine of Badrinath. They apparently had no scruples about passing themselves off as orthodox yatris or pilgrims and enthusiastically joined in the shouts of ‘Ye, Badrinath! Ye, ye!’ as their party entered Shiva’s hills, the Siwaliks, through the Gangadwara gorge. This is where Hardwar now stands; the ugly, flyblown, pilgrim town which to the follower of Shiva represents the gateway to Har (Shiva) and to the follower of Vishnu, the gateway to Hari (Vishnu). To Shaiva and Vaisnava equally, this is where every journey into the holy land to the north must begin and end.
A Mountain in Tibet Page 3