A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

There are no windows in the building; and therefore the only light shed upon the great image, besides that glimmering from above, comes from the entrance-door, which faces the shrine, and from the rows of wax tapers which are placed on a stand before the image. On its pedestal are many smaller images covered with gold-leaf or silver, and all intended as resemblances of Gaudama Buddh; some depicting him in a sitting, others in a recumbent, and a few in a standing posture. As you enter the temple, leaving the sunshine for the dim religious light of the great hall, you notice about the altar wreaths and garlands of lovely flowers, fruit of various kinds, piles of newly made yellow robes which have been woven by the women, new mats, and various other offerings, that have been made to the temple and the monks.

The offerings not required, are supposed to be sold by the layman attached to the monastery, and the money given to the sick and needy. The monasteries, I may here remark, serve as refuges for poor travellers, who are welcome at all times to shelter and food as long as they conduct themselves properly.

Punishments in the Buddhist hells.

The floor of the temple is generally of brick covered with a hard white cement, and the walls of the temples are frequently adorned with fresco paintings representing incidents in the lives of Gaudama Buddh, as related in the Zahts,—the favourite one being the Jataka of Naymee, where he is represented as a white ghostly figure in a chariot, passing through the eight hells and the six heavens of the Dewahs. The punishments depicted as happening to various evildoers in the hells make one’s flesh creep. Other pictures portraying the occupations of daily life, the different nationalities seen in the country, and even sepoys and British soldiers, besides civilians with great tall hats or enormous sola-topees, adorn the walls of some of the temples.

Groups of women and children are squatting about on the floor. Neighbours who have not met for a time are chatting together in an ordinary tone of voice. Youths and maidens are joking together, or having a quiet flirtation. Here an aged woman, telling her beads and mumbling her prayers, presses her hands together, and lifting them above her head, inclines her body in a low bow to the great image of Buddha, till her head and hands are pressing the floor. There a mother with her little child on her knee, closes its tiny palms on the stalk of a flower, and teaches the infant how to worship the great lawgiver Buddha.

Presently the abbot, or one of the elderly monks, commences in a monotonous tone to read one of the sacred books, which, being written in Pali, none of the women or children can understand. The service being over, the ceremony of bathing the images commences. All rise to their feet, and the men carry the smaller images into a miniature temple of bamboo, that has been erected in the grounds. When they are all arranged, the women gather around, and each one, taking her basin, dashes the water over the images, which are too sacred for a woman’s hand to touch.

The missionaries told me that the images are likewise drenched with water in times of drought, when the rice crop is being injured for want of rain. Only the year before, the chief of Zimmé, accompanied by his retinue of princes and attendants, ascended to the temple of Loi Soo Tayp, and had the images removed from the building into the grounds of the pagoda. Then the pagoda and images were thoroughly doused with water, to awake the attention of the spirits of deceased monks that were domiciled in them, to the wants of the people. Another day a procession of a hundred monks visited the temple for the same purpose. Finding these spirits obdurate, or too somnolent to be of use, the execution of some convicts was hastened in order to propitiate Poo-Sa and Ya-Sa, the guardian, rain-producing genii of the hills, so that they might allow more water to flow down the streams for irrigating the fields. It is evident that the people believed that these tutelary spirits were hankering after their former diet, and had perhaps forgotten their promise to Gaudama when he visited their haunts.

Another peculiar ceremony occurs, according to Dr M‘Gilvary, at the full moon of the fourth Ping Shan month, which usually falls in January. It is called by a name signifying “The warming of Buddh.” About daylight, bonfires are kindled in the temple grounds, at which are assembled a larger number than usual of worshippers. It is the cool season of the year, when the mornings are uncomfortably cold; but no one dares to warm himself by the bonfires on that morning. They are sacred to the spirits of deceased monks inhabiting the images of Buddh, and are kindled for their especial benefit. When the fires are lighted, incense-tapers are taken by the priests, who go inside of the temple, prostrate themselves before the images, and invite them to come out and be warmed by the sacred fires. It is a sham invitation, however, so far as the images are concerned, as they are not carried out; but the spirits of the poor cold deceased monks are presumed to gladly accept it.

The greatest fun of the Water Festival at the New Year happens amongst the young people. Young men and maidens dash water over each other at every chance they have; little boys, with squirts and syringes, are in their glory; and every one is soon drenched to the skin. No one thinks of changing his clothes, and the fun continues day after day during the festival, amidst stifled screams and shouts of merriment. It is the hottest time of the year, and nobody catches cold; and no one would care to get through the three days with dry clothes! for the wetting is looked upon as a compliment.