Receptacle of the Sacred. Jinah Kim
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A, B], overcome the force of time [Groups A, B, D], heal sickness [Groups C, D, especially the Pañcarakṣā manuscripts],” and attain enlightenment (Groups A–D).48
Invoking the Mmk in understanding the Mahāyāna cult of book in medieval South Asia is particularly relevant when we see the demographic change of its patronage in the twelfth century. As will be discussed in chapter 6, some donors of the illustrated manuscripts in twelfth-century eastern India identify themselves as sādhu. As a lay Buddhist practitioner, this sādhu may be understood as a real-life equivalent of the sādhaka, the ideal practitioner of the Mmk. In addition, the presence of the donors in manuscripts in the form of colophons, and sometimes in the form of visual representations (see figs. 2–3 and 6–1), may be comparable to the Mmk’s prescription that requires the sādhaka be integrated into the painted space of a paṭa.49 A monk with his hands folded together in añjalī mudrā, with ritual implements in front of him, on the last folio of Ms D1, the Pañcarakṣā manuscript in the Cambridge University Library (Add. 1686), does not seem too different from the image of the sādhaka, as described in the Mmk, kneeling piously in the periphery of the divine space (see fig. 6–3 and 4-5). Although the sādhaka here is a monk, not a lay donor, this simple ritual scene renders the transcendental divine space created within a manuscript accessible and immediate. The sādhaka of the Mmk, in fact, does not seem too different from the donor figures appearing in the eastern Indian Buddhist sculptures from the ninth century onwards, in terms of his attitude and relative position (see web. 1–2). It would be wrong to identify all the donors on sculptural productions as equivalents of the sādhakas of the Mmk. But both the prescription in the Mmk and the donor images represented in illustrated manuscripts and sculptures reflect a strong desire to be part of the divine world and to go beyond the human limitation of the here and now. If we understand controlling the uncontrollable as one of the main objectives of Esoteric Buddhist rituals, the human figures plugged into the divine space bring the abstract, visionary world into the concrete world of materiality. This practice was even more concretized in Nepal, and including visual representations of the donor figures in manuscript illustration and the practice of recording more elaborate, personalized accounts of the donors’ actions in the colophons became a norm in Nepalese illustrated manuscript production.
MOVING TEXT
The sacred space unfolding in a book of the AsP can also transform the here and now into the field of enlightened visions that reveal the reality that lies “beyond” what is in front of one’s eyes.50 This transformative power of a book is unusual for a Buddhist sacred object, for no other single cultic object, be it a sculpted image, a stūpa, or a relic, provides a mechanical possibility of movements and promises a structural potential for deconstruction without destruction that only the pothi format of the South Asian manuscripts allows. Although I do not know of any textual source that discusses a book’s mechanical potential directly as an object that can be animated, the awareness and interest in movements necessary for using a book can be glimpsed from the development of the so-called Tibetan prayer wheels or the revolving cylinders that enable “mechanized recitation” of sacred texts (see web 2–2).51 The origin of this practice has long been sought in China, but Gregory Schopen’s analysis of a verse in a praśasti (eulogistic donative) inscription from Nālandā opens up the possibility of its Indian origin.52 Found in monastery no. 7 at Nālandā, written neatly in siddhamātṛkā type script, the inscription records the monastic lineage and the meritorious deeds of the Buddhist monk Vipulaśrīmitra.53 In verse 6, the inscription refers to the mother of the jinas (jananījinānāṃ), that is, Prajñāpāramitā, which was constantly in motion (bhramatyavirataṃ) thanks to Vipulaśrīmitra’s meritorious act. That Prajñāpāramitā here refers to the AsP is clear from the context, as verse 4 mentions “the Mother of the Buddhas in eight thousand (verses).” Since texts generally do not “incessantly move(s) about” on their own, Schopen suggests, this moving text refers to the revolving movement created using a mechanical device. Rereading the text of verse 6, Schopen proposes a new translation, which reads, “a copy of the AsP constantly revolves . . . by means of a contrived (book) case,” and suggests that a revolving bookcase invented for the purpose of continuous “mechanized recitation” of the text existed in eleventh-century India.54
FIGURE 2-4Signs of worship on a book cover, a Nepalese manuscript of the Kāraṇḍavyūha sūtra dated 1641 CE. Cambridge University Library, Add. 1330. Image reproduced by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library.
While I find Schopen’s brilliant analysis convincing, I also wonder if it isn’t possible to think that a beautifully produced book with its encasing book covers was in itself conceived as a case (mañjuṣā) in the context of the medieval cult of Buddhist books. As suggested in the previous chapter, if we consider the fluidity between the inner and outer space of a book, a book can be both a relic and a relic case. The visual representations of a book in worship show a long rectangular object on a pedestal with flowers and ribbons on top. The Prajñāpāramitā manuscript represented in the Orissan stele of the goddess Prajñāpāramitā examined in chapter 1 has two knobs on top that would have held together the manuscript, along with two flower offerings (see fig. 1–4).55 Surviving wooden book covers that have heavy accumulations of sandalwood paste and vermillion powder suggest that manuscripts have been in direct worship, just as seen in the representations of ritual scenes (fig.2–4). It became a common practice by the mid-twelfth century to have the inside of the wooden book covers painted and illustrated and to incorporate this space into the iconographic design of the whole manuscript (fig. 2–5, see fig. 5–5). The outer surfaces of these wooden book covers were also painted and decorated, and the more elaborate, sometimes sculpted, wooden book covers that developed later in Nepal and Tibet may reflect this tendency to consider a book as encasing or packaging a relic, in this case, the Buddha’s teaching (see web 2–3).56
FIGURE 2-5Painted book covers of an AsP Ms (Ms D5), Nālandā, Gomīndrapāla’s 4th year (ca. 1179 CE). Bharat Kala Bhavan, Banaras Hindu University (BHU), Varanasi.
While keeping in mind this development of almost three-dimensional embellishment of book covers, let us look at verse 6 again: “śrīmatkhasarppaṇamahāyatane prayatnāt [sic] mañjūṣayā vihitayā jananījinānāṃ / yena bhramatyavirataṃ pratimāś catasraḥ sattreṣu parvvaṇi samarppayati sma yaś ca.” A beautifully produced book with its encasing book covers might in itself be conceived as a case (mañjuṣā) in the context of the medieval cult of Buddhist books. We may also consider jananījinānāṃ as referring to the text of the Prajñāpāramitā. If this text “incessantly moved about” through the “continuous effort” (prayatnāt) of Vipulaśrīmitra(yena) in the great temple of Khasarpaṇa (Avalokiteśvara), we may propose that a ritual turning of folios of a manuscript that accompanied a continuous recitation of the text could have created such movements.57 Of course, this reading is even more fanciful than an imaginative construction of a revolving bookcase. What is important for our discussion here is that the inscription talks about a text in motion, and whether in a revolving case or not, this implies the awareness of the movements involved in using a manuscript.
MECHANICAL ANIMATION OF A THREE-DIMENSIONAL MAṆḌALA
Reading a Buddhist book as a three-dimensional maṇḍala that can be animated can be historically situated by comparing it with another innovative ritual object made during this period, the so-called lotus maṇḍala. It is a bronze cast lotus with eight movable petals that can open and close. In addition to being a truly three-dimensional maṇḍala, its small size, measuring around 6 to 8 inches in height, and the possibility of closing the lotus with the deities systematically arranged within may permit the classification of this object as a portable miniature shrine.58 In this regard, the lotus maṇḍala belongs to a category of objects that developed much earlier. Portable shrines made of wood, ivory, or lightweight stone, many of which date between the eighth