my sufferings here and dangers dire,
Whate’er befalls me on my onward march,
All, all, I feel, is for the common good
For others treading on Salvation’s path.
The sight of my performance of these devotional practices must have been a matter of wonder and mystery to my companions. They had been watching me like gaping and astonished children, and were all intensely curious to know why I had bowed so many times, and read out such strange Chinese sentences. I was glad to explain to them the general meaning of my conduct and they seemed to be deeply struck with its significance. They said that they had never known that the Chinese Lamas were men of such Boḍhisaṭṭvic mind! The upshot was that they asked me to preach to them that night, a request to which I was very glad to accede. The preaching which followed, which I purposely made as simple and as appealing to the heart as possible, seemed to affect them profoundly, and to make the best possible impression on them; so much so that they even shed tears of joy. The preaching over, they said in all sincerity that they were glad of my companionship, and even offered to regard me as their guest during the two months which they intended to spend in pilgrimage to and round the Kang Rinpoche. They thought that their pilgrimage over such holy ground, while serving such a holy man as I now was to them, would absolve them completely from their sins. Imagine the state of my mind then! These were of the people who took other men’s lives with the same equanimity with which they cut their vegetables; yet, touched now by the light of Buḍḍhism, their minds had softened. I blessed the power of Buḍḍhism more than ever, and could not hold back my tears as my companions shed theirs.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Sacred Manasarovara and its Legends.
It was now August 4th. After proceeding about ten miles over an undulating range of mountains we came in sight of Man-ri, a peak of perpetual snow, which has an altitude of 25,600 feet above the sea-level. The view of Man-ri, rising majestically high above the surrounding mountains (themselves of great elevation) was sublimely grand. While standing absorbed in the severe magnificence of the scenery, I was treated to another experience, which was as soul-stirring as any earthly phenomenon could be. A magical change in the weather was heralded by a sudden flash of lightning, followed by another, yet another and another, new accompanied by rolling thunder. Heavy pelting hail-stones then joined in the war of elements, which literally shook the mighty mountains to their very foundations, and filled the air with the utmost confusion of terrific noises and lurid tongues of fire. Standing almost alone upon a great height, I saw black clouds with fearful suddenness envelope the world of vision in frightful darkness, made doubly dark by the contrasts produced by the momentary glare of pale, penetrating lightning, which, in the same instant, revealed the glittering snow on the grand peaks of the Himālayas, and the deepest chasms, thousands of fathoms below!
The awe-inspiring scene lasted for about an hour, and then, with equally wondrous suddenness, the sky became blue and the sun shone forth, serene and calm, with not a whisper of wind to remind one of the mighty commotions of the moment before. We did but little walking after this wonderful sight, and, coming to the edge of a marsh-like pond, we pitched our tent there for the night. I was now the guest of my companions, and I was not sorry that I had nothing to do with gathering the yak dung, or fetching water, and building the fire. I was given the seat of honor in the tent, and nothing was exacted of me but to sit down like a good priest, read the Sacred Text and then preach in the evening.
On the 6th of August we had to go up a great slope of extremely sharp inclination, and I was offered a ride on one of my companions’ yaks, an offer which I readily accepted with entire satisfaction. Furthermore, all my share of the luggage, as well as part of the burdens of my sheep, was transferred to the back of one of my fellow-pilgrims, and both myself and my original companions had altogether an easy time of it, as was the case through the weeks that followed.
LAKE MANASAROVARA.
About thirteen miles onwards a view opened before us which I shall never forget, so exquisitely grand was the scenery. In short, we were now in the presence of the sacred Lake Mānasarovara. A huge octagon in shape, with marvellously symmetrical indentations, Lake Mānasarovara, with its clear placid waters, and the mighty Mount Kailāsa guarding its north-western corner, form a picture which is at once unique and sublime, and well worthy of its dignified surroundings—calm, dustless and rugged. Mount Kailāsa itself towers so majestically above the peaks around, that I fancied I saw in it the image of our mighty Lord Buḍḍha, calmly addressing His five hundred disciples. Verily, verily, it was a natural maṇdala. The hunger and thirst, the perils of dashing stream and freezing blizzard, the pain of writhing under heavy burdens, the anxiety of wandering over trackless wilds, the exhaustion and the lacerations, all the troubles and sufferings I had just come through, seemed like dust, which was washed away and purified by the spiritual waters of the lake; and thus I attained to the spiritual plane of Non-Ego, together with this scenery showing Its-own-Reality.
Lake Mānasarovara is generally recognised as the highest body of fresh water in the world, its elevation above the sea-level being something over fifteen thousand five hundred feet. In Tibetan it is called Mapham Yum-tso. It is the Anavaṭapṭa of Samskṛṭ (the lake without heat or trouble) and in it centre many of the Buḍḍhistic legends. It is this Anavaṭapṭa which forms the subject of the famous poetical passage in the Gospel of Kegon, named in Japanese and in Samskṛṭ Ārya-Buḍḍha-Araṭan-saka-nāma Mahāvaipulya-Sūṭra. The passage gives the name of South Zenbu to a certain continent of the world. Zenbu is a deflection of jamb, a phonetic translation of the sound produced by anything of weight falling into placid water. Now the legend has it that in the centre of the Anavaṭapṭa is a tree which bears fruits that are omnipotent in healing all human ills, and are consequently much sought after both by Gods and men. When one of these fruits falls into the pond it produces the sound jamb. Further, it is said that the lake has four outlets for its waters, which are respectively called Mabcha Khanbab (flowing out of a peacock’s mouth), Langchen Khanbab (flowing out of a bull’s mouth), Tamchok Khanbab (flowing out of a horse’s mouth), and Senge Khanbab (flowing out of a lion’s mouth), which respectively form the sources of the four sacred rivers of India. It is from these notions that the sacredness of the Anavaṭapṭa is evolved, the name of Zenbu derived, and the religious relations between Tibet and India established. As regards these four rivers, the legend says: “The sands of silver are in the south river; the sands of gold are in the west river; the sands of diamond are in the north river, and the sands of emerald are in the east river.” These rivers are further said each to circle seven times round the lake and then to take the several directions indicated. It is said also that giant lotus flowers bloom in the lake, the size of which is as large as those of the paradise of the Buḍḍha Amitābha, and the Buḍḍha and Boḍhisaṭṭvas are seen there sitting on those flowers, while in the surrounding mountains are found the ‘hundred herbs,’ and also the birds of paradise singing their celestial melodies. In short, Anavaṭapṭa is described to be the only real paradise on earth, with a living Buḍḍha and five hundred saints inhabiting Mount Kailāsa on its north-west, and five hundred immortals making their home on Man-ri, that rises on its southern shore, all enjoying eternal beatitude.
Reading that magnificent description, I believe that anybody would desire to see the spot; but the things mentioned in the Scriptures cannot be seen with our mortal eyes. The real thing is the region in its wonderfully inspiring character, and an unutterably holy elevation is to be felt there. On that night the brilliant moon was shining in the sky and was reflected on the lake, and Mount Kailāsa appeared dimly on the opposite bank. These impelled me to compose
