MONKS AND PILGRIMS
During the period of forty-seven days which the force of circumstances
compelled me to spend in Shigatse, I had an opportunity of making
numerous visits to the monastery, of drawing and photographing
interesting details, of making myself familiar with the daily life and
habits of the monks, being present at their studies and recitations, and
ever increasing my knowledge of the hierarchical metropolis. I used to
ride up to Tashi-lunpo with one or two attendants, and pass the whole
day in its dark sepulchral chapels and temples. At twilight some of my
men came for me with horses. I will recall a few of the impressions I
received on these visits, before we start again on our travels.
On February 14 I sat on the uppermost of the western galleries and drew
a sketch of the façade of the eastern tomb (Illustration 124), but the
pilgrims who were assembling this day for a religious spectacle proved
so inquisitive that I had to stop my work and postpone it till a more
favourable occasion. I then ascended to a roof platform in front of the
Labrang, protected with a balustrade, and posted sentinels at the foot
of the steps to prevent the people from following me. Up there the eye
falls on a number of cylindrical frames, a couple of yards high, some
covered with black and white materials, others enveloped in folded
draperies of different colours and length, very like petticoats
(Illustration 109). Between them gilded tridents, flagstaffs, and other
holy symbols protrude, which protect the temples from demons. While I
was sketching a view of the façades of the middle three mausoleums, the
head steward of Tashi-lunpo appeared, who supervises the provisioning,
cleaning and lighting, etc., caused rugs and cushions to be laid down,
and set out the usual refreshments. He is an old lama who has already
served thirty years in Tashi-lunpo, after preparatory studies in the
monastery Tösang-ling.
From our point of view we can see several smaller gilded copper roofs in
Chinese style, standing in front of the façades of the mausoleums and
rising directly from flat roofs without any intervening course. Under
each roof is ensconced an idol of importance in a temple hall.
We moved about on the roof and enjoyed the wonderful view over the
cloister town and its forest of roof ornaments, and came to a place
where groups of clerical tailors were sewing together pieces of coloured
materials with a zeal and despatch as if their lives depended on it. Had
it not been for the religious environment and the waving emblems, one
might have thought that they were busy with dresses for a ballet or
masquerade. Oh, no, the idols were to have new silken dresses, and were
to be hung round with new draperies and standards in honour of the
twenty-fifth anniversary of the birth of the Tashi Lama. The clerical
knights of the needle sat in the full sunshine, sewed, chattered
together, and seemed quite happy. They boldly asked me for money to buy
tea, and I gave them a handful of rupees.
Below the place where we had first seen the Tashi Lama at the
performance, lies an open gallery, a colonnade looking on the court; the
pillars are of wood, and are wound round with red stuff at the top and
white below. This gallery is very picturesque, especially the part where
the statues of the four spirit kings are placed. The pillars stand out
dark against the light background of the open court, and among them move
figures which are far from marring the picture, namely, monks in red
garments and pilgrims in motley attire (Illustration 142).
[Illustration: 138. POPULAR DIVERSION IN SHIGATSE.]
Now, too, a religious ceremony was being held in the court. A kind of
throne was erected on the northern, shorter, side, and on both sides of
it sat monks in yellow kaftans. Two lamas, also clothed in yellow,
advanced bare-headed to the throne and remained there motionless with
their bodies bent. Then three lamas in red togas and yellow skull-caps
walked slowly over the quadrangle with shrill cries and singular
gestures, took off their caps and put them on again with mystical
movements. This ceremony was continued so long that we followed the
example of most of the pilgrims and left the clergy to their own
devices.
Next day another ceremony took place, of which, unfortunately, I could
obtain no trustworthy explanation. The Tashi Lama took his seat on the
throne of yellow silk, on the short side of the court, in full
pontificals, and two monks in red dresses came before him in tall red
helmet-shaped head-coverings. After His Holiness had greeted them, one
advanced to the eleven steps of the stone staircase and stationed
himself on the lowest, whereupon a very curious conversation began. The
lama on the step calls out something, probably a quotation from the holy
scriptures, or, perhaps, puts a question, claps his hands so that the
court rings with the sound, and makes a movement with the right hand as
though he were throwing something straight at the head of the other
monk. This one replies in the same loud tone and also claps his hands.
Occasionally the Tashi Lama puts in a word himself. Lobsang Tsering, who
is with me, says that this ceremony is a kind of disputation, and that
the two disputing monks will attain a higher degree in the scale of the
priesthood if they pass the examination satisfactorily.
Below, to our left, six monks in yellow garments sit on a carpet.
Between the pillars the gallery is packed with lamas of lower rank in
red dresses, and before them sit superior monks in red kaftans richly
worked in gold. Beside the Tashi Lama, on his right, is the seat of
Lobsang Tsundo Gyamtso. The dark-red and straw-yellow robes are very
effective against the dirty-grey colour of the court.
Now a number of serving brothers come on the scene and set long rows of
small tables on the open space in front of the Tashi Lama, which are
immediately covered with bowls of dried fruits, confectionery, and
mandarin oranges. And now begins a feast in honour of the graduation.
When the tables and bowls are emptied, they are removed as quickly as
they were brought, and then comes a solemn procession of monks with
tea-pots, and a kind of tea ceremony begins, less complicated but quite
as imposing as in Japan. Two priests of high rank place themselves in
front of the Tashi Lama and remain there, bending a little forwards, and
quite as motionless as the priests praying at the altar in our own
churches. It is their duty to serve tea to His Holiness. The first monk
in the procession bears a pot of solid gold, which one of the monks
before the throne takes from him to fill the cup of the Tashi Lama. The
other monks in the procession carry silver pots, each of which is valued
at £45, and from these tea is poured out for all the other monks who are
not re-incarnations. Every monk carries his own wooden cup in the folds
of his toga, and holds it out when the monk who pours out the tea comes
round with his pot (Illust. 143).
All through the ceremony the two candidates continue to dispute and clap
their hands without intermission. After sitting cross-legged for three
hours, as motionless as a statue of Buddha, His Holiness leaves the
throne, and, supported by two monks, slowly descends the staircase, on
which a narrow strip of coloured carpet is laid; for the Tashi Lama may
not touch the unclean earth with his holy feet. Behind him walks a monk,
holding above his head a huge sunshade of yellow silk with hanging
fringes. One can hardly help feeling that the little man in papal robes
and the yellow mitre, who disappears in the darkness among the pillars
of the gallery, while the deepest silence prevails, is really a saint,
and one of the most powerful in the world. He is now going up to his
apartments in the Labrang, where he can pass his time in peace till some
new ceremony calls him forth to discharge his ecclesiastical duties
(Illust. 145).
A gloom seemed to fall over the whole quadrangle after he had withdrawn.
The monks, who had but just been so quiet, began to talk and laugh, the
younger ones played and wrestled together, and dirty bare-armed novices
drove away with sticks two mangy dogs which had found their way into the
holy place.
[Illustration: 139. NEPALESE PERFORMING SYMBOLICAL DANCES AT THE NEW
YEAR FESTIVAL.]
It was, however, not only the absence of the Tashi Lama that relieved
the gloom of the quadrangle: clouds of yellow dust were being swept by a
westerly storm over Tashi-lunpo. All the streamers, window curtains and
awnings, and the long white flags, began to flutter and clap, and the
strokes of the thousand temple bells were blended into one clang, which
filled the air and seemed to rise like a hymn to the dwellings of the
gods; for at all corners, projections, and cornices are hung brazen
bells with clappers attached to a spring, so that a very slight breeze
is sufficient to produce a sound. It is very pleasant to listen to this
great carillon played by the wind as one wanders through the maze of
Tashi-lunpo.
A lama from Ladak, who had been studying for five years in Tashi-lunpo,
informed me that there are four different grades of learned priests. If
there are several sons in one family, one must always be devoted to the
monastic life. In order to be received into a monastery he must first
take the oath, binding him to live in chastity and abstinence, not to
drink, to steal, to kill, etc. He is then admitted as a novice into the
fraternity of the yellow monks. After preliminary studies he attains to
the first order in the priesthood, which is called the _Getsul_, and it
is his duty to study certain holy writings and listen to the instruction
imparted by a Kanpo-Lama. He is also bound to perform certain services,
present tea to the superior monks, carry wood and water, see after the
cleaning of the temples, fill the votive bowls, snuff the butter lamps,
etc. The next order, the _Gelong_, has three subdivisions: _Ringding_,
_Rikchen_, and _Kachen_, of which the last qualifies a member to act as
teacher. Then comes the rank of _Kanpo-Lama_, or abbot, and lastly the
_Yungchen_, who stands next to the Panchen Rinpoche.
The Getsul-Lama has to pay a fee of 20 rupees in order to be promoted to
the rank of a Ringding-Lama; it is only a question of money, and the
rank may be conferred on a monk a month after he enters the convent, but
may be postponed for years if he is penniless. A Ringding-Lama must
study a great number of scriptures and pay 50 or 60 rupees before he can
become a Rikchen-Lama, and other 300 to become a Kachen. According to
another informant the Ringding and the Rikchen are attached to the
Getsul order, and only the Kachen belongs to the Gelong order. In these
orders, however, it is easier to collect the necessary fees, for the
monk has now an opportunity of exercising his sacerdotal office among
the people. No payment is demanded on promotion to the rank of
Kanpo-Lama, but this appointment is in the hands of the Tashi Lama; it
is comparatively seldom conferred, and great learning is a necessary
condition. On his appointment the lama receives a certificate bearing
the seal of the Tashi Lama. A thorough knowledge of the holy books is
required for the rank of Yungchen, and a conclave of high priests
present recommendations for the conferment of the dignity.
At the present time there are 3800 monks in Tashi-lunpo, but during
festivals the number rises to 5000, for then many come in from the
neighbouring convents. Of the 3800 there are, it is said, 2600 of the
Getsul and 1200 of the Gelong order. The Gelong Lamas are not obliged to
meddle with worldly matters, but have only to superintend the temple
services and take part in the rites. There are four only of the Kanpo
order now in Tashi-lunpo and two of the Yungchen: one from the Chang
province, and the other from Kanum in Beshar, the convent where the
Hungarian Alexander Csoma Körösi lived as a monk eighty years ago in
order to study the records of Lamaism. This Yungchen-Lama, who is named
Lotsaba, is abbot of the monastery Kanum and of three others near the
Sutlej. He came as a nine-year-old boy to Tashi-lunpo, and has lived
here twenty-nine years. He longs to return to his home, but the Tashi
Lama will not let him go thither until the Dalai Lama has returned to
Lhasa.
Of the 3800 monks, 400 in all come from Ladak and other lands in the
western Himalayas; a few are Mongolians and the rest Tibetans; 240 monks
provide the church music, and dancing is performed by 60. They dance
only twice a year. In the intervals their valuable costumes are
deposited in sealed chests in a store-room called Ngakang. As they are
little worn they last for centuries.
[Illustration: 140. DANCING NEPALESE AT THE NEW YEAR FESTIVAL,
TASHI-LUNPO.]
The disputation just described is connected with promotion to the Kachen
order, the graduation taking place only during the New Year festival,
when eighteen lamas are annually promoted from the rank of Getsul to
that of Gelong. The ceremony lasts three days: on the first day two
graduate in the morning and two in the afternoon; on the second day six,
and on the third day eight.
On February 16 I again rode up to the monastery to sketch gateways and
photograph the Tashi Lama, who had sent me word in the morning that this
day would suit him if I had time to spare. The weather was all that
could be wished, calm and clear. There was a dense crowd on the
uppermost platform, in a broad open space before the eastern mausoleum.
It was particularly interesting to see an interminable procession of
nuns, who had come in from the neighbouring temples to seek the blessing
of the Tashi Lama for the new year. All ages were represented, from
wrinkled old women to quite young girls. They were fearfully ugly and
dirty, and in the whole collection I could find only two who were fairly
good-looking. They had short hair and were dressed like the monks: some
I should have taken for men, if I had not known that they were women.
But, unlike the monks, they wore small yellow caps with turned-up brims,
red on the underside.
Lamas and pilgrims swarmed on the courts, platforms, roofs, and
staircases--all come to receive the sacred blessing; the devout and
patient assembly, here forming queues, made a deep impression on the
spectators. To us they intimated a long wait, and therefore we went to
the tomb of the Grand Lama, and I drew the handsome portal. I had
scarcely finished when Tsaktserkan appeared to inform me that His
Holiness was waiting for me, so we hurried up the staircases, past the
usual groups of monks, who were loitering all about and appeared to have
little to do. On the great quadrangle preparations were being made for
the disputation ceremonies.
This time Muhamed Isa accompanied me, and the Tashi Lama received me in
the same half-open roof chamber as on the former occasion. He was as
charming as ever, and again turned the conversation to distant
countries far remote from this carefully isolated Tibet. This time he
spoke chiefly of Agra, Benares, Peshawar, Afghanistan, and the road from
Herat to the Khyber Pass.
"What lies to the west of Yarkand?" he asked.
"The Pamir and Turkestan."
"And west of that?"
"The Caspian Sea, which is navigated by large steamers."
"And west of the Caspian Sea?"
"The Caucasus."
"And where do you come to when you continue to travel westwards?"
"To the Black Sea, Turkey, Russia, Austria, Germany, France, and then to
England, which lies out in the ocean."
"And what is there to the west of this ocean?"
"America, and beyond another ocean, and then Japan, China, and Tibet
again."
"The world is immensely large," he said thoughtfully, and nodded to me
with a friendly smile.
I asked him to come to Sweden, where I would be his guide. Then he
smiled again: he would like to travel to Sweden and London, but high
sacred duties kept him constantly fettered to the convent walls of
Tashi-lunpo.
After tea and refreshments he walked about his room like an ordinary
man, and asked me to get my camera ready. A yellow carpet was laid in
the sunny part of the room, and a chair was placed on it. He did not,
alas! wear his refined, charming smile when the three plates were
exposed, but had a solemn look--perhaps he was considering whether it
might not be dangerous to allow an unbeliever to take his portrait in
the midst of his own cloister town (Illustration 146). A tall young lama
with a pleasant countenance knew how to take photographs, and took a
couple of portraits of me for the Tashi Lama. He had a dark room, where
we could develop our plates--Lamaist temples are excellently adapted for
dark rooms.
[Illustration: 141. THE KITCHEN IN TASHI-LUNPO.]
[Illustration: 142. COLONNADE IN TASHI-LUNPO.
Sketches by the Author.]
Then we resumed our seats, and the Tashi Lama inquired how I had liked
the show of riders on the preceding day. I answered that I had never
experienced such amusement. He had never attended these worldly
spectacles, for he was always engaged in his religious duties on that
day. Then he made a sign, and some monks brought in a gift of honour for
me: two bundles of cerise-coloured woollen material, woven in Gyangtse;
some pieces of gold-embroidered stuff from China; two copper bowls with
silver edges, and a gilded saucer for a porcelain cup, with a cover to
match. With his own hands he gave me a gilded image clothed in red and
yellow silk, and a large light-yellow _kadakh_. The image he gave me, a
seated Buddha with blue hair, a crown, and a bowl in the hands, from
which a plant sprouts, he called Tsepagmed. This, according to
Grünwedel, is the form of the Amitabha Buddha, called Amitayus, or "he
who has an immeasurably long life." It is significant that the Tashi
Lama selected this particular image to give me, for he is himself an
incarnation of Amitabha, and he is almighty. The figure of the Tsepagmed
was therefore intended as a pledge that a long life was before me. This
I did not understand at the time; it was only when I looked through
Professor Grünwedel's _Mythologie_ that I grasped the significance of
the present.
This time the audience lasted two and a half hours, and it was the last
time I saw the Tashi Lama face to face; for afterwards all sorts of
political complications arose which might have been dangerous to
him--not to me--and I considered myself bound not to expose him to any
annoyance through my visits, which might excite the suspicion of the
Chinese. But it grieved me to stay near him for weeks, knowing that he
saw every day my tent from his small cloister window, and yet not be
able to visit and converse with him; for he was one of those rare,
refined, and noble personalities who make other people feel that their
lives are fuller and more precious. Yes, the memory of the Tashi Lama
will cleave to me as long as I live. His friendship is sincere, his
shield is spotless and bright, he seeks for the truth honestly and
humbly, and knows that by a virtuous and conscientious life he renders
himself a worthy temple for the soul of the mighty Amitabha.
The Tashi Lama was six years old when destiny called him to be the Pope
of Tashi-lunpo, a dignity he has held nineteen years. He is said to have
been born in Tagbo, in the Gongbo country. He, like the Pope, is a
prisoner in the Tibetan Vatican in spite of his great religious
influence, and leads a life prescribed by religious regulations, every
day of the year having its particular ecclesiastical functions and
occupations. For instance, on February 20, he must bow the knee before
the graves of all his predecessors, accompanied by all the superior
clergy. When I asked where he himself would be interred when it pleased
Amitabha to be re-incarnated in a new Tashi Lama, I was told that a
sepulchre would be erected for him as handsome as the others, and that a
conclave of the higher priests would select the site. Either the sixth
mausoleum will be erected on the west side of the others in a line with
them, or a new row will be commenced in front of the former.
One day all my Lamaist followers were admitted to the presence of His
Holiness. It was agreed beforehand that they should not pay more as
temple offerings than three rupees per man. Of course I paid for them,
and they afterwards assured me that the sacred blessing would benefit
them during the rest of their lives.
I did not succeed in getting information as to the number of pilgrims
who flock annually to Tashi-lunpo. When I made inquiries on the subject
I was answered with a laugh, and the statement that they were so
numerous it was quite impossible to count them. Pilgrims of rank and
fortune make large contributions; others only a small silver coin, or a
bag of _tsamba_ or rice; and others again come in companies in the train
of some well-to-do chief who pays for them all. If the concourse is too
large, the blessing is imparted by the higher monks through laying on of
hands; when the numbers are smaller, they receive the blessing from the
Tashi Lama himself, not with the hand, but with a staff bound with
yellow silk. He only blesses people of position and monks with his hand.
We saw laymen as well as clergy among the pilgrims. We have already seen
the nuns forming a queue and waiting for the blessing. Four hundred nuns
had come in from the neighbouring convents. During their stay they
receive free lodging in the Chini-chikang, a building in Tashi-lunpo,
free board, and a small present of money at their departure. They do not
appear every year, but this year they arrived on the second day of the
festival and departed on February 18.
We also saw novices from other monasteries, who are regaled with tea at
stated times; but they must be content to sit on the ground in front of
the kitchen, where they fill the narrow lane, so that it is difficult to
get past.
There are also wandering lamas among the pilgrims. One day I made a
sketch of one who had roamed far and wide. He wore a rosary round his
neck, a necklace of shells, and a _gao_ with an idol, which had been
given him by the Tashi Lama. Not long before he had performed a
prostration pilgrimage round all the monasteries of Lhasa, and had just
completed this feat, so acceptable to the gods, round Tashi-lunpo. He
moves in the direction of the hands of a watch, and measures the
distance round the monastery with the length of his body. He folds his
hands over his forehead, sinks on his knees, lays himself full length on
the ground, stretches both arms forward, scratches a mark in the soil,
stands up, steps up to the mark and falls again on his knees, and
repeats this process till he has gone all round the monastery. Such a
circuit of Tashi-lunpo demands a whole day, but if he also goes into the
lanes and round all the mausoleums and temples, this religious gymnastic
feat requires three days. We saw daily whole rows both of clerical and
lay pilgrims encompassing Tashi-lunpo and all its gods in this fashion.
I asked several of them how many times they prostrated themselves on the
ground during a circuit, but they did not know; for, they said, "We pray
all the time, Om mani padme hum; there are twenty manis to each
prostration, and we cannot therefore count the prostrations as well."
Many of them encircle the wall several times.
This wandering lama was one of a brotherhood of nine monks, who often
visited us in our garden, sat down in front of the tents, turned their
prayer mills, and sang. They had free lodging in a building in
Tashi-lunpo, called Hamdung. Another member was the seventeen-year-old
Tensin from Amdo, who had taken four months to travel thence to
Tashi-lunpo. They had come for the festival, and intended to return home
through Lhasa and Nakchu (Illustration 216).
The contributions of the pilgrims are one of Tashi-lunpo's chief sources
of revenue. But the monastery also possesses extensive estates and
herds, and certain monks, who superintend the agricultural affairs and
have the disposal of the produce, also carry on trade with the
neighbourhood and with Nepal. The produce of the whole of Chang is
devoted to the use of Tashi-lunpo, which is therefore wealthy. Each of
the 3800 monks, irrespective of rank, receives 15 rupees annually, and,
of course, lives gratis in the convent.
Another large source of income is the sale of amulets, talismans and
relics, idols of metal or terra cotta, sacred paintings (_tankas_),
joss-sticks, etc. The priests also get very good prices for small,
insignificant, almost worthless clay idols, and paper strips with
symbolical figures, which the pilgrims carry round the neck as
talismans, when these things have been duly blessed by the Tashi Lama.
[Illustration: 143. LAMAS DRINKING TEA IN THE COURT OF CEREMONIES IN
TASHI-LUNPO.
Sketch by the Author.]
On February 21 I spent nearly the whole day in parts of the monastery I
had not previously seen. We wandered through narrow winding corridors,
and lanes in deep shadow, between tall white-washed stone houses, in
which the monks have their cells. One of the houses was inhabited by
student monks from the environs of Leh, Spittok, and Tikze, and we went
into the small dark cubicles, hardly larger than my tent. Along one of
the longer sides stood the bed, a red-covered mattress, a pillow, and a
frieze blanket. The other furniture consisted of some boxes of books,
clothing, and religious articles. Holy writings lay opened. A couple of
bags contained _tsamba_ and salt, a small altar with idols, votive
vessels, and burning butter lamps, and that is all. Here it is dark,
cool, damp, and musty--anything but agreeable; very like a prison. But
here the man who has consecrated his life to the Church, and stands on a
higher level than other men, spends his days. Monks of lower rank live
two or three in one cell. Gelongs have cells to themselves, and the
chief prelates have much more elegant and spacious apartments.
Each monk receives daily three bowls of _tsamba_, and takes his meals in
his own cell, where tea also is brought to him three times a day. But
tea is also handed round during the services in the temple halls, in the
lecture-rooms, and in the great quadrangle. No religious rite seems to
be too holy to be interrupted at a convenient time by a cup of tea.
One day from the red colonnade (Kabung) I looked down on the court full
of lamas, who were sitting in small groups, leaving only narrow passages
free, along which novices passed to and fro with hot silver and copper
pots, and offered the soup-like beverage stirred up with butter. It had
all the appearance of a social "Five o'clock tea" after some service.
But the meeting had a certain touch of religion, for occasionally a
solemn, monotonous hymn was sung, which sounded wonderfully beautiful
and affecting as it reverberated through the enclosed court. On March 4
the quadrangle and other places within the walls of Tashi-lunpo swarmed
with women--it was the last day on which the precincts of the monastery
were open to them; they would not be admitted again till the next Losar
festival (Illustration 150).
The young monk who, when accompanying the Tashi Lama in India, had had
an opportunity of learning about photography, had his dark room beside
his large elegant cell. I, too, was able to develop my plates there. He
asked me to come frequently and give him instructions. He had solid
tables, comfortable divans, and heavy handsome hangings in his room,
which was lighted with oil lamps at night. There we sat and talked for
hours. All of a sudden he took it into his head to learn English. We
began with the numerals, which he wrote down in Tibetan characters;
after he had learned these by heart he asked for other of the more
common words. However, he certainly made no striking progress during the
few lessons I gave him.
Care is necessary in walking through the streets of the cloister town,
for the flags, which have been trod by thousands of monks for hundreds
of years, are worn smooth and are treacherous. Usually there is a good
deal of traffic, especially on feast days. Monks come and go, stand
talking in groups at the street-corners and in the doorways, pass to and
from the services, or are on their way to visit their brethren in their
cells; others carry newly-made banners and curtains from the tailor's
shop into the mystical twilight of the gods; while others bear
water-cans to fill the bowls on the altars, or sacks of meal and rice
for the same purpose. Small trains of mules come to fill the warehouse
of the convent, where a brisk business is going on, for a family of 3800
has to be provided for. And then, again, there are pilgrims, who loiter
about here only to look in on the gods, swing their prayer mills, and
murmur their endless "Om mani padme hum." Here and there along the walls
beggars are sitting, holding out their wooden bowls for the passer-by to
place something in, if it is only a pinch of _tsamba_. The same
emaciated, ragged beggars are to be found daily at the same
street-corners, where they implore the pity of the passengers in the
same whining, beseeching tone. In the narrow lanes, where large prayer
mills are built in rows into the wall, and are turned by the passers-by,
many poor people are seated, a living reproof of the folly of believing
that the turning of a prayer mill alone is a sufficiently meritorious
action on the way to the realms of the blessed. In one particularly
small room stand two colossal cylindrical prayer mills before which a
crowd is always collected--monks, pilgrims, merchants, workmen, tramps
and beggars. Such a praying machine contains miles of thin paper strips
with prayers printed on them, and wound round and round the axis of the
cylinder. There is a handle attached, by which the axle can be turned. A
single revolution, and millions of prayers ascend together to the ears
of the gods.