Turning over an old leaf

This is so cool
News from the Olds

I love the image of drinking in new knowledge from ancient palm leaf manuscripts. In some areas, palm leaves are still being painstakingly inscribed with sacred information.

Lontar is deeply venerated by Balinese, anyone who wishes to read lontar regularly needs to undergo a consecration ritual (mawinten) which must be performed by a brahman priest. Lontar cannot be sold or thrown away when damaged but it can be burned with proper ceremony and offerings.

A recent archaeological project collected palm-leaf manuscripts in the state of Chhatisgarh (formerly part of Orissa state).

In the first phase of a survey conducted by the National Mission for Manuscripts and assisted by locals, around 2,000 manuscripts have been collected from various archaeological and remote sites in Chhattisgarh...

But, how do the manuscripts contain words in "texts in Sanskrit, Oriya and Devnagiri" - since Devanagiri is a script, not a language? I think they mean that Devanagiri script was used to write the Sanskrit.

The photo at left shows an ancient manuscript in Kerala, in the possession of my friend Murali in Tiruvilwalmala, whose family have been Ayurvedic vaidyas for 17 generations.

I believe the script and language shown is ancient Tamil. (Someone know for sure?)

Originally, the pages would have been strung together with a thread through the central holes.

Hinduism Today's specialized news service, Hindu Press International, is where I saw this story, and a great source for all kinds of Hindu-related news items.

In the ongoing "pick on the foreigners" thread, Nepal's Pashupatinath temple has added insult to injury by charging perceived "foreigners" (read: people who don't look Nepali...so if you are Assamese Indian, or a Singapore Tamil, you are scot-free) double the previous entry fee - even though "foreigners" are prohibited from entering the actual temple, lest they pollute the hallowed grounds.

It's still okay to through plastic bags of trash into the nearby river and spit on the ground, though. No fines levied for that.

Songs the Lord Taught Us

Googling the Giti
Kathmandu

It's such a struggle to get on line, half the time I can't remember what I came here for. Oh, that's right, I was going to post something about the Manjushree Charya dance.

In answer to your question, yes, this IS my idea of how to spend a Friday night. (Manjushree is pictured below.)

Obviously, to learn a dance one must know the music intimately. Charya Giti has some uncommon rhythms, even for someone accustomed to the many and varied talas of south Asia.

A quick Google of Charya Giti (the songs accompanying the dance) doesn't reveal much in the way of sources. Evidently there are some old (ancient) Bengali texts, some still found in Bangladesh, that are called Charya Giti.

Also, from the Google front-page there appears to be something in Oriya (Orissa state) with the same name. This would make sense, as Odissi is the "major" classical dance Charya most resembles, and Bengal as well as Assam and Orissa had Tantric Buddhist and Hindu practices at one time (and in some form, still do).

One of the only references to Charya Giti is from Bangladesh. Encylopedia of Modern Asia says in its Bangladesh - Music section:

Twelfth-century Buddhist poems called charya-giti (religious observance songs) and the thirteenth-century Gitagovinda (Songs of the Cowherder), a cycle of songs by the poet Jayadeva, bear the names of the specific melodic modes assigned to each song. Hindu and Buddhist kings in Bengal commissioned poets to compose raso, epic poems, in their honor, which were chanted by the poet-composers themselves.

The Dictionary of Indian Literature says:

Charya Giti aka Charya Pad: 1050-1200...earliest available relics of old Bangla discovered in a manuscript in Nepal in 1916 by Hariprasad Shastri....

Another fascinating section details how the Charya poets, at least in India, wrote under pseudonyms because their work was "much hated by the Brahmins and the elite," and how Charya giti were translated into Tibetan.

Time shift

Let's do the time warp again
Kathmandu

Last week, my Charya Nritya (Chacha Pyakhan if you speak Newari) teacher, Raju Sakya, and I were pushing our way through the sidewalk near Sundhara.

Pushing, not because Nepal is soooo heavily populated or because people are so rude (neither is the case) but because 2/3 of the walk space is taken up by sidewalk vendors. One of the first things the new Home Minister announced was a crackdown on "footpath" vendors. I guess what we're tripping over now are the vendors who can pay the new, requisite bribes.

Anyway, as we were negotiating our way toward the Ratna Park Tempo-Micro (mini-bus and share taxi) stand, we passed a lone Buddhist chaitya (aka stupa, chorten - Buddhist monument) in the middle of the sidewalk chaos.

In Kathamdu, it's hard to walk without tripping over such works of religious art - they are literally everywhere. But there was something distinctive about this chaitya.

The lines were more fluid, more flowery...I did not get a snap of it. But Raju, who is getting a Master's degree in Nepali art from Tribhuvan University, said "This is a Licchavi period chaitya."

The Licchavi period. Wow. That means it's at minimum 1,400 years old.

"Yes," said Raju, "from 6th or 7th century."

For just a second all the horns, shouting, spitting and pushing stopped. The Licchavi dynasty came from what's now Bihar state in India (I think; don't beat me up if I am wrong). Though they were Hindu, there was still plenty of Buddhist art flourishing during their reign.

This piece of ancient artwork is enclosed by just a cast iron railing; otherwise it's in the open air. It appears undamaged and has probably not changed for the 1500 or so years of its life.

Just the kind of stuff you can see any old day walking down the sidewalk in Kathmandu - if you can make enough space on the sidewalk. We pushed, darted, and maneuvered our way over to the micro-bus and headed for Patan (former Buddhist kingdom, now home to INGOs and expats).

What does it mean?

Nepal nomenclature

Kathmandu

Often people in India ask me, "So what does the name Nepal mean, anyway?"

I always have to say, "They really don't know."

A., a friend from Berkeley, expressed disgust at this (with what I have come to regard as typical West Coast arrogance). "I don't really believe that they DON'T KNOW!"

Oh sorry, I guess I'm just really stupid....and the entire four years I've been travelling here all the things I have read are wrong. It's just ME that doesn't know...someone much smarter out there actually does know.

So the next time someone asked (Y., and Indian-American friend in Delhi), I gave two of the several theories: "Some believe it was derived from the Newar, the original inhabitants of the Valley [Of course, this raises the question - what does the name Newar mean?] .

Others say it is a Sanskritic word from 'Nepalaya' - that is, place where the traditions are observed."

Which it certainly is. This is a country in which the Prime Minister of the supposedly secular state now receives prasad (a blessed item - in this case, a sweaty sacred handkerchief) from the ancient god Bhim, instead of the King, who had traditionally received it.

"The place where traditions are followed," repeated Y. That seemed to satisfy him.

The fact is, though, they actually DON'T know for sure what the name Nepal means.

Here are just a few of the popular theories, according to Wikipedia.

The word Nepal is believed to derive from Nepa (नेपा:); the old name of Kathmandu valley was Nepa in Nepal Bhasa, the language of Newars, who were the early inhabitants of the valley, long before the unification of Nepal.

[Again, what does the name Nepa mean? Viewer mail welcome.]

Other toponym theories include: -
"

Nepal" may be derived from the Sanskrit nipalaya, which means "at the foot of the mountains" or "abode at the foot", a reference to its location in relation to the Himalayas. Thus, it may be an Eastern equivalent of the European toponym "Piedmont."

It has also been suggested that the name comes from the Tibetan niyampal, which means "holy land".

A third theory suggests that Nepal came from combounding the words NE, which means wool, and PAL, which means a tented house; long time ago, Nepal used to produce a lot of wool and the houses were used to store the wool - hence the word NE-PAL.

The name, Nepal, is also supposed to be derived from the Sanskrit word "NEP"(नेप), with the suffix "AL"(आलadded) to it; though still under controversy, NEP were the people who use to be cow herders - the GOPALS (गोपाल) - who came to the Nepal valley for the first time from the Ganges plain of India.

According to Nepali scholar Rishikesh Shaha, the ancient chronicles report that, a sage (muni) named Ne became the protector (pāla) of this land and the founder of its first ruling dynasty. The name of the country, Ne-pāla, therefore originally meant the land 'protected by Ne.'[1]

Everything I need to know I learned from a T-shirt

The popular 1970s Hippie etymology (which can still be found on t-shirts) was: "NEPAL stands for Never Ending Peace and Love."

My vote is for: "Never Ending Politics and Load-Shedding."

Museum musing

Today, I had to go back to the FRRO on ManSingh Road. You turn in your papers (for request of visa extension) between 10 and 12 "only," wait till they accept them which usually takes till 2.30 or so, and return at 4.30pm.

I had two hours, so I went round the corner back to Gandhi Smriti. Today the power was on, and I enjoyed the exhaustive and state-of-the-art interactive museum upstairs on the first floor. There are all manner of multimedia displays and lots of great vintage film footage.

Still, the most effective parts of the museum are the most personal and the simplest. This time inside Gandhi's room, I noticed something in the corner I didn't see yesterday. Two pairs of the wooden sandals, and a walking stick. These weren't in a glass case, but just leaned up against a corner, as though Gandhi were coming right back for them. I just started crying.

Fortunately, there was a modern metal chair right there (maybe other people have been overcome seeing the room) and I sank down into it. The shy young museum guide in her khadi uniform was watching me from the corner, halfway pretending not to notice, and halfway curious. Finally she approached me.

"Which country?"

"I am from USA," I said, choking back tears.

"You are very inspired by Gandhiji?"

I nodded mutely, sniffing.

She smiled as knowingly as a 20 year old possibly could. "I think you are a friend of Gandhiji," she said, as though I were someone who had actually known him.

A friend of Gandhiji. I had to smile. "Yes, a friend." I was trying hard not to cry openly as I knew I had to look decent to go back to the Foreigner's Office and I didn't want to have a red nose and runny kajal down my face.

Ruby turned out to be a history major who was volunteering in her spare time. I was extremely heartened to hear that people are still majoring in history. All I have met since I arrived in India are engineering and B Comm students.

Anyway, the wireless place is closing now and I have to sign off.

Tomb of the unknown Mughal

I go to the FRRO
Chanakyapuri & Nizamuddin, Delhi

After spending the better part of a day running from one office (used to be the Foreigners' Regional Registration office, but that shifted some three years ago...not reflected on maps of course) to another (yes, this is the FRRO but you need to go to yet another Foreigners' office, in another part of town) to yet a third (yes, this is the right office but despite the fact that we're all present and it's only 3pm, you will have to come back Monday between 10 and 12 only) - after such a day, what I wanted was a little escapism.

(Just in case you have to pay them a visit, the FRRO is currently out near the Hyatt Hotel in an area called Bhikaji Cama Place, Ramakrishna Puram. None of the guidebooks show this yet. They all show it as still in Hans Bhavan near Pragati Maidan. )

(Long ago, back in the heady days of the early 80s, I owned an ancient James Brown 45rpm record called "Escapism (Parts 1 & 2)." For those of you who have never seen a 45rpm, Part 1 was on side 1 and part 2 was on what we used to call the B-side. James pronounced it eee-SKAY-pizm. It's probably worth a lot of money now, wherever it is. Other than a chance to mention James Brown, there is no point to this anecdote, so I will stop now.)

As I have mentioned before, Delhi has a lot in common with Washington, DC. Both cities are national capitols, obviously, but it goes beyond that. They share very well-planned streets, meticulous greenways, many museums, lots of white marble, and lots and LOTS of memorials.

Luckily, the third office (called Jaisalmer House, for the curious) was walking distance from the giant Arc-de-Triomphe-like India Gate, which I had never seen properly, so I took a stroll. India Gate and surrounding well-groomed grounds were full of tourists, hawkers (selling everything from cotton candy to plastic beads to slices of star-fruit to my favourite orange popsicles), armed guards and police, and the crew of men erecting scaffolding and awnings for upcoming Republic Day (January 26).

Republic Day is an annual mega-spectacle of patriotism, pageantry and military might. I have never seen it on location - frankly you probably get a better view with less hassle on the national TV coverage. I love the way each state chooses a theme for their parade float. Bihar, surprisingly enough, usually chooses "the Buddha" rather than kidnapping or corruption, and Gujarat has chosen to stay away - so far- from the popular "communal violence" theme. I think this year the float will just be a giant mockup of Narendra Modi's big fat face with dozens of people wearing the Modi Mask riding aboard.

The India Gate is essentially a war memorial, engraved all over with names of Indian who gave their lives in various wars. I wondered if there were always so many armed guards - you can't even walk under the arch or touch the pillars (which are at a considerable distance from the arch itself). Are all national symbols being guarded so fiercely in today's terrorist environment? Or, was it just in the run-up to Republic Day?

For those of you who haven't been to India yet (like my 2 sisters -though they say they are coming this year), watching the tent-masters erect these pavilions and awnings is a uniquely Indian experience. Very few buildings are large enough to house Indian crowds, so we just make a temporary "building" outdoors.

If you have seen the movie Monsoon Wedding, you have some idea of the process. Out of nowhere, a green field or dusty lot will be transformed with cloth walls and roofing (and sometimes even jute carpet flooring) for 1000s of people. Using bamboo poles, hand-made bamboo ladders, kilometres of jute rope and acres of cloth sheeting, the tent-wallahs were constructing awnings, railings and so on to protect 10s of thousands on Republic Day. A street dog had found a comfy bed, crashed out atop a coil of rope four feet high.

On the peacock lawn
Dusk was approaching and I realized I was a Delhi stone's throw from Humayan's Tomb, a World Heritage site that has been on my to-see list forever. So I splurged on yet another autorickshaw (40Rs from India Gate) to Nizamuddin. Admission is supposed to be $5 for foreigners, but as they have set the rate at 250Rs it is now $6.00.

It's worth it. Humayan's Tomb was the first of its kind (Mughal four-quartered gardens with tombs) and evidently the prototype for the Taj Mahal. It's not just one tomb, it is an enormous enclave of geometric gardens, waterways, fountains and several giant tombs, built in the 1570s - any one of which would be worth seeing on its own. The purple haze of twilight gives the buildings a romantic, lost-civilization feel.

Since it was nearing closing time, I hurried through the first two mausoleums, which already felt like something from an orientalist Arabian Nights scenario - octagonal buildings of marble, onion domes, marble latticework windows surrounded by date palm trees. In fact I would recommend going in the morning - the complex opens at dawn - in hopes of seeing sunlight filter through the intricate patterns of lacey marble.

Then I caught a glimpse of the main attraction through the mammoth arched gateway. I couldn't help breathing "Ohhhh!"

The actual tomb of Humayan is a dream, glowing in red sandstone. It is elegant and ornate without ever being garish or baroque. Every one of its many marble-jali windows seemed to have a different geometric pattern, echoed in the marble inlays on the floor.

A gaggle of western art students emerged from the front archway, clutching their sketch books, now filled with the geometric designs. As the sun sank, a call to prayer went up from the neighboring DhamDhama Sikh Gurudwara, with its own dome visible just over the ancient fence. Okay, wrong religion historically, but to hear such devotional music in that setting at sunset really makes my spirit soar. Bright green parrots shrieked as they streaked around the sky.

I stuck around till well after closing time (it's so huge, how are they going to throw everyone out?). The cat-like cries of peacocks sounded across the lawn. Peacocks in a Mughal garden at sunset, it was just perfect. I crept around the edge of the wall toward the cries and watched them nesting for the night. I didn't even know they could really fly, but there they were in the treetops. I could see the S- curve of their necks against the sky.

On Global Voices
Yesterday's post about dynastic democracies made it to Global Voices. If I had known people were actually reading it, I would have put more work into it....