(This is chapter 23 of the Nicholas Roerich's book
Shambhala.)
GODS OF KULUTA
Sometimes
it would seem that all the strange countries of Asia have already been
described. We have admired the curious tribe of the Todas. We have been amazed
at the sorcerers of the Malabar coast. We have already heard of the Nagas of
Assam and of the extraordinary customs of the Veddas of Ceylon. The Veddas and
Paharis of Northern India are always pointed out as most unique tribes.
Although
many articles have already been published about the Northern Punjab, where an
incomprehensible conglomerate of ancient hill tribes are massed together, yet
the remote hillmen have been touched so little by civilization, that the
inquisitive observer constantly finds interesting new material.
The
mixture of ancient Rajputs, Singhs with Nepalese and Mongoloid hillmen has
produced quite an individual type, which also produces a peculiar religion—a
combination of Hinduism and Buddhism.
The
sacred Kulu valley lies hidden on the border of Lahoul and Tibet, forming the
most northern part of Punjab. Whether this was Aryavarsha or Aryavarta is
difficult to say. But the most significant names and events have gathered in
this beneficial valley. It is called the Silver Valley. Whether in winter, when
the snowy cover sparkles, or in spring when all the fruit trees are covered
with snowy-white blossoms, the valley equally well merits this name.
In
this ancient place they have their three hundred sixty gods. Among them also is
Gotama Rishi, dedicated to Buddhism, which is known to have been here for ages.
There is also Akbar the Great, whose statue is in the Malana temple, and all
teachers and heroes who by sword or spirit won great battles.
Deoban,
their sacred forest, is entangled with century-old trees. Nothing may be
destroyed in the silence of the protected grove. Even leopards, bears and
jackals are quite safe in this abode of the god. People say that some of these
protected trees are over a thousand years old and some even two thousand. Who
has counted their age? Who knows their beginning? And their end is not near, so
powerful are the unembraceable trunks and roots.
Equally
ancient are the deodar trees round the Mahadevi temple in Manali. Heavy
boulders, stones resembling huge monuments, are scattered all over the
mountain-slopes of the Himalayas. Near the temple are seeming altars, built of
stone. Here the gods are said to meet during the spring festivals. In the
darkness inside the temple rises a rock, washed by a prehistoric stream. Was it
here that Manu compiled the first commandments for the good of mankind?
On
the mountain slope above every village can be seen a comb of ancient giant pine
trees or deodars. These are all places sacred to the three hundred sixty gods
of the glorious Kulu valley, or as the ancient people called it, “Kuluta.”
These places were marked by the Indian pundits, by old Tibetans, and by the famous
Chinese traveler of the seventh century, Hsuan-tsang.
In
Kulu valley, even up till now, disputes are settled by the prophet priest. In
the sanctuaries of temples are untold sanctities, which the human eye is not
allowed to see. The guardian of a temple enters the sanctuary only rarely and
always blindfolded, and carries out one of the sacred objects to an initiate,
for a brief moment.
The
people of the mountain nest, Malana, speak an incomprehensible language and
nobody has as yet clearly defined this dialect. They live their own lives, and
only rarely do their elected representatives descend into the valley to visit
the temples of the god Jamlu. In high black cone caps, with long ear-pieces,
and in homespun white garments these mountain hermits tread the snowy narrow
paths.
During
the New Year of India, the entire Kulu valley celebrates the festival. We were
told that the goddess Tripura-Sundari had expressed the wish to visit us. The
triumphal procession of the goddess, of her sister Bhu-tanta and the god Nag,
arrived. In front of our house stood a long row of multi-colored banners.
Further away was a multitude of drums, pipes and bent brass horns. Farther on,
in finely ornamented costumes, dancing all the way, with bent sabers, came the
priests, gurs, kadars and local festival dancers. On the broad terrace the
procession halted. Every one of the three palanquins of the gods was covered
with silver and golden masks. The music roared, songs were chanted, and they
began a wild war-like sword-dance. Like Caucasian hillmen or sword-bearers of
Kurdistan the sons of the ancient militant valley, madly but gracefully whirled
round in dance.
Then
an old Brahmin priest appeared. He took two sabers from the young dancers ...
as if a miracle had happened, the bent old priest suddenly became full of life,
and like a warrior leaped about in a wild sacred dance. The curved sabers
flashed. With the back of the saber blade the old man inflicted on himself
imaginary symbolical wounds. It seemed as if he would gash his throat. Then
with an unexpected movement the bare steel was run between the open mouth . . .
was this an old man, or a youth masked in a gray beard?
All
this was unusual. But the most unusual was to come. The dancers calmed down.
The musicians stepped aside. The palanquins of the goddess were borne upon the
shoulders of the men, but the men who carried them did not touch the poles with
their hands. On the contrary, the palanquins seemed to push them about, and, as
if drunk, they staggered around, led by an unknown power. They began turning
around with the palanquins on their shoulders. Suddenly the palanquin seemed to
rush at a chosen person propping itself up with the end of the poles against
his chest. He shuddered, became pale, and his entire body shook. ... In a
transformed voice he shouted out prophecies.
But
the goddess also desired to speak through another. Again the palanquin moved
around in a circle. And again some one was chosen and endowed. It was a pale
youth with long black curls. Again the blunt look of the eyes, the chartering
teeth, the trembling body and the commanding proclamation of prophecies. The
New Year had been honored. The procession lined up again and returned by the
steep hilly path to the temple, where drums were to thunder till long after
midnight and where the dancers would again whirl round in sacred war dances.
It
is good when the gods of Kulu are gracious.
What
do the inhabitants of Kulu valley like most? Dancing and flowers. We visited
another sword dance. Skilfully the sword blades whizzed through the air and
around in a semi-circle danced a row of colorfully dressed men, arm in arm,
singing drawling songs, accompanied by drum-beats and large kettle-drums. On
rich stretchers, under an ornamented canopy, sat Krishna with a blue face and
in gold brocaded garments. Next to him sat Radha, and in front was a small
Kali, her face black, like a Nubian, with a long, red, out-stretched tongue
attached to it.
The
children who represented the gods sat up very seriously, with an understanding
of their nomination. And round stood the crowd—a mixture of many nations:
Paharis, Tibetans, Hindus, Ladakis and many other types of hillmen with strange
faces. All this seemed to carry me back to the American Southwest Pueblos,
where, during the festivals, we saw similar rows of people with their arms
interwoven, who represented rain clouds, the harvest, and hunting—everything
that harasses and delights the people who live in contact with nature.
During
our travels, we heard much of every manner of god. We saw how the Chinese
punish their gods, drown them in the river, cut off their hands and feet and
deprive them of their dignity. The Samoyeds either anoint their gods with fat
or flog them. In short, all sorts of things may happen even to gods. But, that
in our times, a legal contract should be made with a god such as is done in
Kulu still seems a novelty. In the Bible we read of covenants made with gods,
but of course, this was without government revenue papers.
But
here in Kulu valley the gods are very close to life and they base all their
decisions according to the up-to-date laws of the country. Here I have before
me a contract between a private individual and the god Jamlu, concerning the
water supply. Such written contracts with gods I have never before seen.
Everything becomes modern and even gods sign contracts on revenue paper.
But
not only do contracts with gods occur in Kulu, but even the fairy tale of the
Coq d’Or. Before me is a deed of sale of an ancient fortress and there is a
special clause that the previous owner retains his right to a quarter part of a
golden cock, buried on these grounds. The tale of the Coq d’Or! . . .
The
gur, priest of the gods, is the most revered person in all Kulu. He is all clad
in white, in a homespun woolen mantle, with a small cap on his black and gray
hair. His nose is aquiline and he has sparkling deep-set eyes. His legs are
also covered with white.
The
gur is seated on a rug, and having completed the burning of his incense, he
gives every one of us a flower as a sign of the grace of the gods.
The
gods are very satisfied, he informs us, We did not offend them. On the contrary
we have even collected their images near our house, bringing them from an old
ruined temple. There is the statue of Juga-Chohan on horseback, there is also
the goddess Kali, the Rishi Kartik Swami Nansigang, Parbati and several images
of Nar-sing, the protector of this place.
-
“Tell
us, gur, have you seen Narasimha?” we ask him. “We heard that many people have
seen the protector of these regions.”
Before
the gur had time to answer, a Hindu school teacher, who was present, replied:
-
“Certainly
many of us have seen Narasimha. The old Rajah, who became the protector of this
valley, wanders at night-time near his former castle and along the mountain
paths. All your servants here have seen how on a moonlight night, a tall,
majestic figure with a long staff has descended the mountain and disappeared
under their very eyes. ... I have myself seen Narasimha twice. Once in this
very house. The protector entered my room at night, and touching me, wanted to
tell me something. But it was so sudden that I became frightened and the vision
disappeared. Another night I returned by the mountain road from the castle
homeward. And I met the protector himself, who said: ‘Why walk so late when
everybody already sleeps?’ You can ask Capt. B. and the wife of the planter L.
They both know of apparitions of Narasimha.”
And
the old gur, chewing his thin lips, said:
-
“I
have seen Narasimha. And also the goddess. She came to me as a small child and
blessed me for my initiation as gur. I was very young at the time. At the gates
of the temple I imposed a fast on myself and sleeplessness for seventy-two
hours. And in the morning after these hours had passed, an unknown little girl
came to me. She was about seven years old, dressed in superb robes, as if for a
festival, although it was an ordinary day. And she said to me: ‘Your task is
fulfilled. Go and act as you decided!’“
The
gur has told us much about the great local Rishis: the gods in the valley live
in prosperity. They have plenty of property and land. Without their sanction
nobody is allowed to fell a tree. The gods visit each other as guests. Many
people have seen the gods traveling. Sometimes they fly, sometimes they walk
with great leaps propping themselves on sticks. Of course, besides that,
several times every year they have triumphal processions with drumbeats and
trumpets as accompaniment. In the store houses of the temples are hidden rich
garments, pearls, gold and silver masks—all attributes of the gods.
The
wife of the planter L. told us that indeed, staying once overnight at the
Naggar castle, she was awakened by a noise in the neighboring room and on the
threshold a white figure appeared of medium height, but she became terribly
frightened and the figure disappeared, making such a loud noise that two
English ladies, sleeping next door on the other side, became very much
frightened. And with the same noise the figure moved along other parts of the
castle. Mrs. L. also saw another interesting thing. On the maidan of Sultanpur
she saw a dog running, pursued by a white transparent figure.
A
Brahmin in a large yellow turban told us how the local gods help the
inhabitants of Kulu valley.
-
“Some
misfortune happened in the house of a man, and in terror he fled up into the
mountains, seeking the help of the gods. Three days he spent on the rocks. Some
one invisible brought him food and a voice said: ‘You may return home.’ And the
man returned and found everything in order. Another man went into the mountains
of Manikaran and secluded himself in meditation. An unknown yogi appeared
before him and surrounded him with radiant light. From that day on all the
inhabitants of the valley followed that man, paying him homage and trust. This
was about fifty years ago. If you want to try to see a Rishi, go up into the
mountains, to one of the mountain lakes. And in fasting and prayer stay there,
and perhaps one of the protectors will appear before you.”
Thus
the people of Kulu regard their deities with familiarity. In this ancient
place, as in Naggar, and in Manali, are gathered all the great names. The
law-giver, the Manu himself, gave his name to Manali. The great Arjuna, in a
miraculous way, laid a passage from Arjuna-gufa to Manikaran, where he went to
the hot springs. After the great war, described in the Mahabharata, the
Pandavas came to Naggar and high above the Thava temple they built their
castle, the remnants of which arc still being shown.
Here
also in Kulu valley lived Vyasa, the compiler of the Mahabharata. Here is
Vyasakund the sacred place of fulfilment of all wishes. In Bajaura, near the
river Beas, stands a temple connected with the name of Geser Khan. Coming from
the side of Ladak, the great hero here overtook his enemies and defeated them.
On the same river Beas, called in history Hypathos, near Mandi, Alexander the
Great, once stopped. A hill is shown there connected with the conqueror’s name.
On the top of the hill are some ruins.
Here
also in the neighborhood lies the famous lake Ravalsar, the place where the
great teacher Padma Sambhava stayed. Thousands of pilgrims visit this
remarkable place, coming from beyond the mountain ridges of Tibet, Sikhim,
Ladak and Lahoul, where Buddhism prospers. From Kulu came the famous propagator
of Buddhism, Santa Rakshita. It has been ascertained that Kulu and Mandi are
the sacred lands Zahor, which so often are mentioned in ancient records. Here
after the persecution of the impious King Landarma were hidden the most ancient
books. Even the place of these hidden treasures is indicated approximately.
In
Naggar is shown the cave of the famous spiritual teacher Pahari Babu, who
converted the cruel Rajah into leading a pious life. It is a lovely, quiet
place, hidden among dense deodars and pine trees. A small brook gurgles and
birds call to each other. A Brahmin guards the sacred cave, which has now been
adorned by a Temple. The chief deity of this temple is an image of—as the
Brahmin calls Him—Taranata. He brings the image out of the temple, and one
cannot fail to recognize in it Tathagata, the Gotama Buddha—the Teacher. In
this way the Hinduism of the hill Paharis has become blended with its
predecessor—Buddhism.
In
other temples also one can see, besides Shiva, Kali and Vishnu, images of
Buddha, Maitreya and Avolokiteshvara. And all these memorial images are
reflected in the gathering of the three hundred sixty Rishis, the protectors
and holders of this blessed place.
One
cannot omit to mention that under the name of Trilokanath—Lord of the Three
Worlds—in upper Kulu, as also in Chamba State and Lahoul, Avolokiteshvara is
worshiped. This is confirmed by the typical aspects of the images.
On
the border of Lahoul, which is also an ancient former Tibetan principality, on
the rocks, are inscribed images of a man and a woman up to nine feet high. It
is said that this was the height of the ancient inhabitants. It is curious,
that in Bamiam, in Afghanistan, where there are also huge images on the rocks,
these are also connected with a legend of the height of ancient giants.
The
earthquakes in Kangra have destroyed many of the temples, but the memory of the
people preserves the names of heroes and teachers. Here also are erected
monuments of a different character, reminding one of things which might well be
forgotten. In Mandi and in Kulu you can see big stone stelae like ancient
menhirs, with some time-worn images. In close groups stand these granite
blocks, hiding some secret.
What is this secret?
What memory do they recall?
These
memorials refer to all the generations of local rajahs, and show the number of
their wives, who were buried alive together with the body of their deceased
sovereign. This is the cruel custom, against which Akbar had already fought;
sometimes this unifier of India rushed personally on his steed to prevent the
cruel fate of the innocent women.
These
stones speak of the past. But to the north of Kulu rise the white peaks of the
main Himalayan range. Beyond them lies the road to Lahoul and Ladak and the
main white giant is called Guru-Guri Dhar—the Path of the Spiritual Teacher.
This conception unites all Rishis into a great whole, leading the way to the
Heights.
In
this Silver Valley the Great Shepherd called to life all living beings by the
silvery sounds of his flute. He calls toward joy. And the apple-trees,
pear-trees, cherry-trees and plum-trees respond in their enthusiasm of
blossoming. The willow-tree opens its fluffy blossoms, apricot-trees turn
lilac, the vigilant nut-tree unfolds in rich yellow, and as a healing nectar
flows the aromatic sap of the deodars.
Under
the apple-tree, covered with rose-colored blossoms, the eternal Krishna, on his
silver flute, plays his divine songs of regeneration.
Naggar,1929.
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