It is out of Phuntsok’s kind motivation from the last couple of days that I can go to the night debate on Pranama that begins from 8:00pm and lasts till 12:00am. Being one of the core educational activities of the communal debate forum of the three seats for advanced Tibetan Buddhism and the related monasteries, it’s treated with respect and spiritual pomp and here, today, more at display for the chilly night. As the past legacy of convening winter debate on Pranama at Jang in Tibet being sustained here in exile it can be said, as my personal impression here tonight, being still at its zest best if not at zenith. All I can feel being among the thronging tide of monks and sparse lay guys from different corners, who are devotedly appreciating the decorative lightings of the grand prayer-hall and the frontal portico hung with the bright colored brocade bordered scroll paintings of Lord Buddha in the mid flanked by the eight Indian Pandits (Gen Druk Chok Nyi) and the bigger ones of Jhe Tsongkhapa with the two son like disciples and Panchen Sodak (the author of Loseling literature series) set hung on either side from the concrete cap above the stair steps dais, is the same appreciation for the extravagant well managed settings. On the top dais His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s throne is set with the trimmed figure of the size of him as like to give the lively impression of his graceful presence at the grand debate session, which is flanked by the lower thrones for those high ranking lama dignitaries. A beige patterned yellowish carpet is laid from the descending steps from His Holiness throne and set with plastic flower-pots with nylon flowers on either side, the two with big sunflowers draw more attention. And the lower dais is set with foam-mattresses for Tulku on either side of the low tabled seats for the three answerers, the promise holders of their own grounded philosophical rejoinders (Dhamchawa). It’s by the laid shortlist that the three are the toppers of the year’s Gelug final board examination for graduate title of Geshe Lharampa from the three great learning seats (Gomang, Serjhe, and Jangtse). So they are found attacking later calling ‘Lharampa’ as scoffing at their any short weird turns in their holdings. Yes, I missed the last same session at Drepung Gomang seated by the toppers from Loseling, Shartse and Sermey—it’s by turn here at Drepung this year’s a month long winter debate session with two such grand events organized by the host monastic universities.
When the gathering in neat knee-by-knee sitting rows within the skimmed white demarcated lines on either side of the wide open aisle left in the mid, the standing questioners domain set with mikes on stands, is settling on the paved ground of the spacious front yard from the bottom of the wide stair steps, I with my mates occupy our positions on the top of the far side column next to the farthest one at our backs. For a while it goes on like waiting for a movement to appear on the decorated dais followed by the head figures, the seat holders, imparting the gathering with their attendance helped by their personal attendants.
The whole yard with maintained lawns and plants within the high walled compound is brightly lit mainly by those a few high voltage electrical lamps on tall posts and supported by the dotted solar lamps. Yes, the decorative lightings of small threaded bulbs on the grand building and hung on either side of the capacious paved front yard emitting a faint yellowish light play a fancy role below the speckles sky dotted with only sparse twinkling stars like hidden away or retreated for the brightness below. But the full moon with rather tarnished complexion tonight remains suspended there, seeming much closer, like trying to emit the same faint rays to match the decoration. The brightly lit porch displays the part of its rich murals and the carved concrete designs of the upper parts of the fat pillars. The towering monument of Ashoka pillar with four lion heads, of a grey marble, overlooks the vicinity with a chilling bearing that seems to be bathing in the chilly air.
As the initial program of chanting the root text of Pranama begins, I find the tilting heads before me are in recital synchronization with the chant master’s voice blaring from the speakers. It’s followed by the three answerers climbing up the steps with the yellow ceremonial hairy plush hats in their hands to offer ceremonial scarf on to His Holiness throne and to the highest dignitary, Sharpa Choeje. As I watch their progress from walking along the wide aisle in full ceremonial attires I have this feeling of appreciating their being the gifted ones, say really lucky ones to have such rare opportunity to be among such huge gathering of ordained mass and put ones’ learning to test so.
Yes, I don’t want to go into details what are discussed and in what manners. But, despite the repetitions claimed by the answerers for the groups of standing questioners’ (a batch for each answerer) clashing voices and the mishearing caused by the heavy accents of regional dialects, the whole process draws a sense of deep respect, if one knows the medium. So the humorous mocking on each other’s accents and thereby playing a joke is theatrically entertaining arousing a low wave of laughter. I do enjoy the time so much, even if the stiffening cool air troubles my stomach, numbs my knees and bites my ears. As the night deepens, the cracking joint voices of the standing boisterous questioners, navigated by the masters on the ground, blaring from the speakers reverberate like the gloomy void above mimicking the spiritual diligence below.
At 12:00am it’s over preceded by the ending prayers. And now to be among the tide of streaming monks. As I near the far west additional gate, the stampede is rather rough here as of the size of exit. It’s like fighting for one’s way out, the yonder dream land. Can it be of the time now? The gathering population is astounding. I can fight my way out but carried over there by the moving tide up the short steps. As I walk along the road, I can see the flowing stream ahead of me like evenly cut thicket of bushes moving in dust thrown up by the walking feet.
