The Vajra Parrot Squawks!

Today was Rinpoche's first public Vairocana jangwa (a purification ritual for the deceased) which, even by standards of Tibetan ritual, is pretty mindblowing in its complexity. It makes the Old Rite of the Catholic Mass look rather tame and simple by comparison, and it's about four times longer.

In addition to the panoply of musical interludes, there are more mudras (ritual gestures) than you could shake a stick at, and lots going on all the time around the stage set by the Vajra Master and his attendants.

During the ceremony, at various intervals, the local people crept into the lhakang and offered silk scarves, money, fruit and other consumables to Rinpoche and the monks who, oblivious to the stream of wellwishers, were rapt in concentration as they ploughed their way through pages of text. Then, a pause for tea during which a list of names of the deceased were read out (including my own grandfather, who conveniently died in time for the ceremony) so that the merits and positive vibes generated by the puja could be sent in their direction.

Even though it lasted about 4 hours, the time went very quickly. As every sense faculty is absorbed in Tibetan ritual things often speed by like this. Everything catches your attention: wreathes of incense smoke winding their way upwards to the ceiling, with its woody/herby scent which lingers everywhere; flickering butter lamps; the steady intonation of the monks, who rock gently back and forth in time with one another - at some times donning crowns or other paraphernalia in order to aid their visualisation, at others performing pyrotechnic displays of intricate hand mudras, all of which are the outer expression of inner concentration; streams of local Tibetans creeping round placing their offerings at the shrine or leaving 50 rupee notes on the tables of dignitaries as they pass; the deep, resonant boom of the two huge drums at the back of the temple sometimes accompanied by the reedy wailing of gyalings or the ringing of many handbells and cymbals. All quite hypnotic.

And after the jangwa - sunshine! At least for a few minutes. Now, true to form, Ghoom is shrouded in mist and rain and I wonder whether the laundry I did last week will ever get dry ...