CHAPTER XXIX
WALKS IN TASHI-LUNPO—THE DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD
Immediately below the red colonnade stands the Sokchin-rungkang-chimbo, the kitchen, with its walled-up stove of colossal dimensions and six huge caldrons embedded in masonry. The first supplies all the 3800 monks with tea at one boiling. On the part of the caldron which rises above the masonry are inscriptions and cast ornaments (Illustration 141). Each caldron has a wooden cover which is put on when the caldron is not in use. Tea was being prepared in two of these gigantic pots; probably allowance was made for any chance guests. Glowing, blazing fireplaces yawn below the caldrons, and faggots of branches and sticks are thrust in with long iron forks. There is an opening in the roof for the smoke, which rises up in grey rings and produces a picturesque illumination in the holy kitchen. A continuous succession of young lamas and workmen ascend the steps leading up from the street, carrying on their backs water-tubs of different capacity according to the strength of the bearer; for there are quite small boys among them, who have recently been consigned by their relations to the care of the monks. One after another tips his tub over the edge of the caldron, while the stoker thrusts fresh faggots of wood into the stove. Other serving brothers bring in a quantity of cubes of brick tea which they throw into the boiling water, whence clouds of steam ascend and mingle with the smoke. At the side of the caldron stand two cooks, who stir with huge staves larger than oars, and disappear in the rising steam, becoming visible again, like shadow figures lighted from above, when a slight draught from the door clears the air. They sing a slow rhythmical song over their work.
When the tea is ready, it is poured into large bright copper pots with shining yellow brass mountings, handles, and all kinds of ornamentation. Novices carry the vessels on their shoulders to all the various halls and cells. A loud signal is given on a sea-shell from a temple roof that the monks may not miss their tea, but may be on the look-out. I frequently looked into the kitchen, the scene was so picturesque, and the cooks were ready for a joke and were not averse to being sketched (Illustration 148).
Two large and several small chhortens are erected on an open square in front of the mausoleums, of exactly the same design as those so frequently seen in Ladak. There are also stone niches filled with idols and other objects. A crowd of people was collected on the terrace when I was sketching, and it was not easy to get a clear view. It was a striking picture, with all the red and many-coloured garments against the background of the white-washed walls of the memorial towers (Illustration 151).
| 144. Part of Shigatse. |
| 145. The Tashi Lama returning to the Labrang after a Ceremony. |
One day when I had sat a long time talking in the cell of the photographing lama, it was dark when I went home. We passed, as we often had before, the entrance gate to the forecourt of the Namgyal-lhakang, the temple in which the Tashi Lama had once provided us with refreshments. There the evening service was in full swing, and of course we entered to look on. The illumination was more dimly religious than usual, but we could at any rate make out our surroundings after coming straight out of the outer darkness. The monks sat on long red divans, and their black profiles were thrown up by the row of forty flames burning in bowls before the altar. The gilded lotus blossoms of the pedestal were brightly lighted, and the yellow silken scarves in the hands of Tsong Kapa’s statue and the garlands draped over the images stood out conspicuously. But the upper parts of the figures under the roof were plunged in darkness, and Tsong Kapa’s countenance, with plump rosy cheeks and broad nose, was so curiously lighted up from below that his smile was not perceptible. The four coloured pillars in the middle of the hall appeared black against the altar lamps. The monks wore yellow robes, sat bare-headed, and chanted their melancholy litanies, now and then interrupted by ringing of bells and the roll of drums. At first the leather head of the drumstick falls slowly and regularly on the tight skin, then the beats become more and more frequent, and at last the drum becomes silent in an instant. A monk recites “Om mani padme hum” in rising and falling tones with the rapidity of an expert, and the others join in, making some kind of responses. The recitation passes into a continuous hum, in which often only the words “Om mani” are heard aloud, and the word “Lama” uttered more slowly. The whole ritual has a singularly soporific effect; only Tsong Kapa listens attentively, sitting dreamily with wide staring eyes, and ears hanging down to the shoulders. Here, too, the indispensable tea is handed round; a monk with an oil lamp attends the server that he may be able to see the cups. The monks were now quite accustomed to my visits and took no particular notice of me, but they always greeted me politely and asked what I had been sketching during the day.
A lama gave me information about a remarkable custom. Certain monks consent of their own free will to be walled up in dark grottoes or caves for the space of three, six, or at most twelve years. Near a small monastery, Shalu-gompa, a day’s journey from Tashi-lunpo, there is a monk who has already spent five years in his grotto, and is to remain there seven more. In the wall of the grotto is an opening a span in diameter. When the twelve years are over, and the hermit may return to the light of day, he crawls out through this opening. I insinuated that this was a physical impossibility, but the lama replied that the miracle does take place, and, besides, the enclosed monk has become so emaciated in the twelve years that he can easily slip through the opening. One of the monks of the monastery goes daily to the grotto with tea, water, and tsamba, and pushes these provisions through the opening, but he may not speak to the prisoner or the charm would be broken. Only sufficient light penetrates through the opening to allow the anchorite to distinguish between day and night. To read the holy scriptures, which he has taken with him into the cave, he must use an oil lamp, and a fresh supply of oil is placed from time to time in the opening. He says his prayers all day long, and divides the night into three watches, of which two are spent in sleep and one in reading. During the twelve years he may not once leave his grotto, never look at the sun, and never kindle a fire. His clothing is not the usual monk’s dress, but a thin cotton shirt, and a girdle round the body; he wears no trousers, head-covering, or shoes.