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In: Myth, Image, Metaphor in the Cultures of Asia and Africa, Proceedings of the 6th AllPolish Conference of Oriental Studies. Edited by Marek M. Dziekan, Sylwia Filipowska and Ewa Siemieniec-Gołaś. Warsaw: Elipsa, 2121. 301–373. RAJESH KUMAR SINGH Ex-Senior Fellow, Ministry of Culture, Govt. of India ORCID: 0000-0003-4309-4943 CIRCA 465 CE AND THE STUPA-SHRINE OF THE AJANTA CAVE 11 A : This essay presents a snapshot of the year 465 . Place: South Asia with the Ajanta Cave 11 in focus. A history is narrated here to describe how the stupa-shrine (naos) of the Ajanta Cave 11 was conceived, and added to what was earlier a dormitory; how the Hunnic disturbance in Eurasia created migrations of people including the one when the Bactrian and Gandhāran people migrated towards Middle India and the Deccan on one hand and the Tarim / Taklamakan region on the other. The war refugees, I argue, introduced the concept of multi-functional or composite architecture in India. It was to bring under the same roof the three major functions of monastic architecture: dwelling, congregation, and worship. It was an experiment that resulted in the creation of Cave 11’s naos. It was a quadrant and flat-roofed naos. The idea was at once accepted across all the contemporary rockcut sites. The article shows how the displaced people the “foreigners” from Eastern Mediterranean, ancient Turkey, Iran, Bactria and Gandhāra, swiftly changed the Buddhism of Middle India and the Deccan from an earlier form of Śrāvakayāna that insisted on the stupa cult to a different one that insisted on the cultic worship of the Buddha and Bodhisattva figures. The latter was a confluence of the traditional Sarvāstivāda and Bodhisattvayāna, which acquired the name of Mūlasarvāstivāda towards the seventh century CE. K : Ajanta Cave 11, Buddhist naos, Buddhist rock-cut architecture, Buddhist archaeology, Indian Buddhism, cetiyaghara, stupa, Mulasarvastivada, Alchon Huns, Gandhara 302 Rajesh Kumar Singh I * The Ajanta1 Cave 11 (Plates 16.3–4; 23.1; 28–29)2 is a relatively neglected edifice in the Ajanta studies as compared to the painted cave temples.3 In 1880, James Fergusson and James Burgess described the edifice in about one and a half page.4 Then in 1883, Burgess devoted about half a page more, and also published the ground plan.5 In both the reports, the authors were at pains to date the monument because of the coexistence of some very early and some very late features. About a century later, Walter M. Spink analyzed the edifice most thoroughly. He revealed tomes of new data and facts.6 Because the cave’s development was so complicated, the description of the developments is also bound to be complicated. Therefore, a bird’s eye view of the timeline may be had by looking at Spink’s time chart of Ajanta, and looking for the entry on Cave 11 there (Pl. 15). Very roughly, it would convey the following gist: The Ajanta Cave 11 developed during c. 462–478 . The work was started vigorously in c. 462 . There was less vigorous excavation during late 463– 467 . Then, during 468 and early 469 the work was vigorous again before being discontinued from the middle of c. 469 . No excavation happened afterwards. The inner shrines or naoi7 of Ajanta and related sites were all conceived during 466 . However, the development of the Cave 11’s naos started in mid-468 and discontinued from mid-469 . About a decade later the work in the naos was resumed during early 478 . After Hari Sena’s death in c. 477 there was Conventions: (1) All the dates are expressed in circa and Christian Era unless specified otherwise. (2) The spellings and diacritical marks for historical persons, places, dynasties, tribes, or clans are after SB (431–437), SBC (431–437), HG (669–700), and Archaeological Survey of India (1964, II: 357–379) in this order of priority. (3) Where inconsistency is found this study supersedes the author’s earlier works. 1 Ajanta caves: 20°33’ N, 75°42’ E. 2 Pls. 1–13 are after those in S18, S20a, S20b, and S20c (143–153). Notations have been removed due to want of space. Revised notations would be found in Singh (Forthc., ‚description of plates’). 3 The Ajanta Caves 1, 2, 9, 10, 16, and 17 have received more attention due to the paintings, although some other caves also have extant paintings. For a comprehensive corpus of the narrative paintings, vide Schlingloff (1999) and (2013); and of the non-narrative paintings, vide Zin (2003a) and (2003b). 4 F80 (294–295). 5 B83 (47, pls. XXVIII.2, XXXVII.1). 6 Spink (1968), W07 (141–161, fig. 14), W09 (36–37, pl. 90, fig. 14), W14 (pls. 1–3, 44, 83, 122, 230, 258, 259, 265–266), W17 (144, 244–248, 274–275, 339, 375–377). 7 Other synonyms may be: in English: sanctum sanctorum; in Pali, Prakrit, and Apabhramśa: cetiyaghara; in Sanskrit: caityagṛha, stūpamandiram, or garbhagṛha, etc. I will often use the word naos and pronaos (shrine-antechamber) ahead for brevity. * Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 303 “anxious consolidation” during 478 when “major patrons started to leave” the sites. Thereafter, two years (479–480 ) are allocated for the “Period of Disruption” when the so-called “intrusive imagery” were painted or carved in blank areas of the caves that were living or had been consecrated. It was a path breaking study that was full of new data, evidence, and logically derived interpretations of whatever data that was available to the scholar. Thereafter in 2014, another attempt was made by a doctoral student to study the cave again from a chronological perspective.8 All the above studies suffer from a serious problem. They were all done from inside the box, so to speak. The researchers did not look outside the box, i.e. outside the region(s) of the site(s) concerned. They did not look beyond the present or past borders of the sites, regions, and geographies. They did not evaluate the Hunnic factor. The whole story changes when the Huns are placed into the picture (Pl. 14). Actually they must be placed into the picture because it answers all the questions that were evading answers so far. Every piece of a great jigsaw puzzle (fifthcentury Middle Asia, South Asia, and Central Asia) seems now to fit into place so remarkably well, especially in the light of certain latest studies.9 Therefore, we are re-studying the monument here to tell a new story of how the cave, particularly the naos, was developed. The account presented here is substantially different from the former studies, for it is focussed on the inaugural circumstances of the edifice as well as the naos (Pl. 28.6). We intend to describe how the sanctum sanctorum was conceived; how the excavation was initiated; what was the motive, plan, and inspiration; what problems were encountered; how the problems were resolved; what changes were made to the original plans; what failures were encountered; what milestones were achieved; how the developments catalyzed the architectonics of the times; how various experiments were conducted; how they influenced the later developments of the Buddhist rock-cut temples; how it laid the foundations of what is known today as the garbhagṛha10 (sanctum sanctorum) of the Indian temple architecture; how it became the centre, the pivot, the axis mundi, the raison d’etre of a sacred space wherein resides the divinity. Performing a cardinal function inside an architectural space, the sanctum sanctorum dictates everything else. The story in our Ajanta Cave 11 – and indeed in Singh (2014, I: ch. XVII, 309–329, 404–406; II: figs. 25, 95–120). S20a, S20b, S20c, and S21. 10 Sanskrit architectural term for the sanctum sanctorum of the Indian temples. Literally, garbha means the womb, and ghaṛa means a chamber, abode, house, home, residence, edifice, etc. For a discussion, vide Singh (2014, I: 38–41). 8 9 304 Rajesh Kumar Singh every other rock-cut temple of the times – was no different. In fact, the story began from there. What is that story? We are going to present here a new narration with some new facts, factors, and revelations. In the process, we shall limit ourselves to the early years of the cave’s development to describe how things were conceived and inaugurated. Then, we shall focus on the year 465 when the first naos was conceived and excavation began. So much of knowledge is still waiting to be revealed about those times. Hence, the curtains will be raised here from at least some of the secrets of history so that our subject is lit in a new light, and give us some bits of unprecedented insights into what exactly happened in that year in South Asia, and why it should matter to the researcher. C T 460– C ’ L 465 :O E Spink made a remarkable suggestion that the Ajanta Cave 11 as well as its naos (Pl. 28.6–7) were among the first such initiatives11 during Period II (c. 460– 468 ) of the Indian rock-cut architecture (Pls. 1.4; 3.4).12 The edifice belonged to an architectural typology called the Type LM2bii (Pl. 4),13 which was initially programmed for about fifteen edifices at Ajanta (Pl. 6: figs. 10, 15–19, 21–24, 26–32),14 two at Bagh15 (Pl. 6.11–12), one at Ghaṭotkaca (Pl. 6.25),16 three at Dharashiva17 (Pls. 6.13; 19.1–3), some at Kondavite18 (Pl. 19.8), one in S07 (151–152), S14 (54). S20b (14–20). 13 The classification chart given in the Pl. 4 has been further revised after S18 (fig. 3), S20a (pl. 3), S20b (pl. 3), S20c (pl. 3). Even the acronyms and nomenclature of architectural terms of the typologies have been revised. The new nomenclatures are after the first initial(s) of texts or inscriptions in Pali, Prakrit, or Sanskrit. For example, ‘L’ in the name of a typology stands for leṇa / layaṇa (rock-cut dwelling), ‘M’ for maṭapa / maṇḍapa (hall or pavilion), ‘C’ for cetiyaghara (literally, house of worship), etc. 14 S12b (45–46). 15 Bagh caves: 22°22’ N, 77°78’ E. 16 The Ghaṭotkaca caves are situated near Janjālā village, Soegāon taluka, Aurangabad district, Maharashtra state, India. The site is about 14 km west of Ajanta as the crow flies, but about 47 km by car. There are about three caves out of which the largest one is considered the most significant. 17 Osmanabad district, Maharashtra, India. The site has 7 caves. 18 Kondavite or ‘Mahākālī caves’: 19.130390°, 72.873765°. There are 19 caves as per the current ASI records, but ‘about 20 excavations’ as per Nagaraju (1981, 237), and 16 caves as per F80 (360) and B83a (71, pls. XLII–XLIII). 11 12 Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 305 Lamgaon19 (Pl. 19.7), and a later one (?) in Harishchandragad.20 The plan Type LM2bii was chosen to perpetuate the type of monastic dormitories that was prevalent through the preceding Period I, c. 250 – c. 325 (Pls. 1.1; 3.1).21 22 The same type was now revived during c. 460 for drafting the blueprint of 23 the first batch of the caves of Period II. Most of the edifices were inaugurated during c. 460–462 ,24 some during c. 463–466 ,25 Cave 29 during 469 , and the rest26 towards the end of Period III,27 c. 473–477 (Pls. 1.6; 3.6; 15). At the initial planning stage (460 ), some edifices were planned large, some of medium size, and others were smaller. However, regardless of the size, the layout was common.28 The same layout with advanced variations was being followed in some caves of Bagh (Pls. 6.11–12; 18.1–2), Ghaṭotkaca (Pls. 6.25; 8.5), Dharashiva caves (Pls. 6.13; 19.1–3), Ankai-Tankai (Pl. 19.4–6), Lamgaon (Pl. 19.7), at least one example at Pālé29 (Pl. 6.14), and one at Kondavite (Pl. 19.8). Situated in Goa, the site has two rock-cut monuments: one Buddhist and another Śaivite. In my opinion, the former is older and the latter is later. The former may be called Cave 1 and the later may be called Cave 2. 20 Ahmednagar district, Maharashtra. The site’s Kedareshwar Cave is our interest here. 21 For an outline of Period I, vide S20b (10–11). 22 The inaugural year has been variously dated in current research: (A) c. 460 : S20c (123), S21 (43–45); (B) c. 462 (Pl. 15): S20a (26), S20b (14–16); and (C) c. 461 : Singh (I: 134–135, 193, 259–260, 393, 396–397). 23 If the Ajanta Cave 7 (Pls. 6.23; 8.3; 16.2) exudes a different layout it was not originally so. It was also planned as the Type LM2bii, which was later converted into the Type LC2 (Pls. 4; 16.1–2). Spink (1985, fig. 22), (2017, 187) demonstrated that the cave also had a hall in the original plan, which was later omitted due to unknown reason. The change of plan is datable to c. 466 after the duo-functional layout of the Banoṭī cave (20.4430900° N, 075.3124130° E), Phase I (Pls. 7.11; 10.4; 12.5; 30.1). The duofunctional layout must have been after the similar types in Aparānta that have no hall (Pls. 10.2–3; 7–9). 24 Ajanta Caves 4, 5, Lower 6, 7, 8, 11, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 25, 26, and 27; cf. c. 462–463 by Spink (Pl. 15). 25 Ajanta caves 1, 2, Upper 6, 21, 23, 24, Ghaṭotkaca, and Banoṭī cave; cf. Spink’s timeline (Pl. 15). 26 Caves 3, 14, 22, and 28 (Pl. 15). 27 For an outline of Period III, vide S20b (24–30). 28 It was something like the traditional dharmaśālās (lodgings / inns) of today that are seen at pilgrimage centres in South Asia. Older dharmaśālās followed a catuśālā (rooms on four sides of an inner court) kind of design with a frontcourt, porch, main gate, inner courtyard, and cells all around. They could be multi-storied. 29 Situated near Pālé in Mahāḍ taluka of Raigad district, Maharashtra (Pl. 18.4). Fergusson and Burgess (1880, 209) called it the ‘Mhār caves near Pala.’ Then, Burgess (1883a, vii, 18, pl. IX) called it ‘Pala caves near Mahāḍ or Mhār.’ However, for the people of the region the site is called ‘Gandhāra Pālé.’ As to why the nearby Gandhari River is called as such may be explored in view of a Gandhāran episode that is revealed in this essay. For the ASI the site is simply ‘Pala’ or ‘Pale’ – without diacritical marks. I am following the form ‘Pālé’ in this essay – with the diacritical marks. The sites has 28 caves, vide F80 (209), B83a (18–19), and N81 (250). 19 306 Rajesh Kumar Singh The reason of reviving an older layout from Period I was the community-style dwelling needs. There was no need of lavish decorations, carvings, or paintings. There was no need of any sanctum sanctorum, because the function of worship was usually reserved for the temples alone. For the purpose of worship there were two older temples, the Ajanta caves 9 and 10 (Pls. 6.1–2; 24.1–2). Additionally, there was now planned two new temples, caves 19 and 26 (Pls. 6.7–8; 17; 24.4–5). They were also simultaneously initiated during c. 460–462 (Pl. 15). The (original) layout of the new cetiyagharas was also based on the older prototypes of Period I,30 i.e. the Type MC1c (Pls. 4; 6.7–8). There was no provision or need of monastic cells or wing-like structures in them. If such features are seen in them today it is because they were afterthoughts.31 The initial thinking was simple. The layouts had to be guided by the basic needs, function, and tradition rather than by individual tastes of the respective patrons (Table 5). Therefore, it was not surprising if the original layout of Cave 11 was that of a simple dormitory (leṇa-maṭapa) (Pl. 6.10). According to my study the original plan had a smaller porch with two pillars only, a smaller hall,32 and six cells in the interior for monastic dwelling.33 The layout was a typical Type LM2bii something like the Nasik Cave 19 (Pl. 4) or the Ajanta Caves 12 and 13 (Pl. 6.4–5) added with a pillared porch and pillared hall. In a later course, the planning of cells was re-configured. Four cells were added to the porch area, which was to compensate for the loss of four cells on the rear right wall. It is difficult to say whether the four interior pillars were there in the original plan or whether they were afterthoughts (Pl. 16.4). The overall layout, with the interior pillars, is so similar to those of the Jain Dharashiva Cave 4 (Pl. 19.3), Kondavite Cave 1334 (Pl. 19.8), Dhamnar caves35 6 and 10 (Pl. 19.9), Kedareshvara Cave36 at Harishchandragad,37 Lamgaon Cave 2 at Goa38 (Pl. 19.7), and the Ankai-Tankai S07 (233, 316–317), S09 (9). For how the ‘wings’ were added to the Ajanta Cave 26, vide S12a (45–47, 52–65), S07 (311, 317–342), S06 (22–96). For how the wings were added to the Ajanta Cave 19, vide S07 (233–248). 32 The hall measures ‘37 feet wide by 28 deep and 10 high:’ F80 (294). 33 Cf. ‘nine cells,’ S07 (146). 34 F80 (361), B83a (71, pl. XLII). 35 Dhamnar caves: 24°12’ N, 75°30 E. 36 F80 (479) and B83b (57) assigned the caves to the 9th–10th centuries. 37 Few km from Nanaghat, 26 km from Junnar. For a brief survey: F80 (477–479), B83b (57, pls. XLVII–XLVIII). 38 Thakur (2017, fig. 14). 30 31 Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 307 Jain Caves: Cave 2 (ground floor), Cave 3, and 4 (Pl. 19.4–6).39 All of them have four pillars in the centre of the respective halls. None of the pillars is highly ornate. Except the Kedareshvara Cave (of later period) all the rest indicate an early stage in the evolution of the plan and pillars. There must have been a traffic among these sites – from Ajanta to Goa, etc. When the excavation work started in our Ajanta Cave 11, there kept coming many problems. The planners had to introduce many changes from time to time. Some changes were innovative, others forced by compulsions. Certain errors were also committed. The work was repeatedly halted.40 There was also a hiatus that lasted in this cave for almost a decade, c. 469–477 (Pl. 15). The work halted in 469 did not resume until 478 . When it did so it was only for some reworking in the shrine and for intrusive paintings in the interior and porch. It will be another task to describe all the problems and developments.41 So, we must leave those details aside. What matters is that the planners were able to find a solution to each problem. This was in spite of the fact that the masons were doing this type of work for the first time in their lives. They had no prior experience of excavating a mountain cliff, which was because of the Hiatus I (c. 326–459 ) that had spanned for about 133 years42 (Pls. 1.3; 3.3). Due to the prolonged lull period, the tradition and knowhow of the rock-cut architecture was nearing extinction.43 M R By early 465 most of the interior had been excavated. Now it was time to excavate the cells for which the plan had been substantially modified. The new plan was to carve four cells on the rear wall,44 three on the left wall, and none on the right wall (Pl. 16.4). It was, of course, asymmetry, which must not have been there in the original plan, because the architects of those times had a penchant for symmetry. What was on the left of the Monument’s axis had to be on the right of the axis – subject to feasibility. So, the question arises: Why did they deliberately plan asymmetry in the revamped layout? It was because the There are seven Jain caves of 10th–12th c. at the Ankai-Tankai Hills near Manmad; vide F80 (505–508, pl. XCIV), B83b (58–59, pls. XII, XLIX). 40 Singh (2014, I: 318–329, 404–406), cf. S07 (141–161). 41 S07 (141–160), cf. Singh (2014, 309–329). 42 S20b (12–14). 43 Spink (1981, 111). 44 The left rear cell ‘rL2’ (Pl. 16.4) was possibly an addendum, vide S07 (144). 39 308 Rajesh Kumar Singh planners faced a rude shock one day to see that there was no scope to excavate any cell on the right walls; neither in the hall nor in the porch. It was because of a mistake committed right from the times when the façade was begun from c. 460–461 . The mistake was due to measuring the space between our Cave 11 and the flanking caves: No. 10 on the right, and No. 12 on the left (Pl. 23.1). It seems that before beginning the excavation work they had only measured the space between caves 10 and 12 as it was visible on the exterior face of the cliff. They had not estimated the situation inside the interior. They had not realised that the interior cells were going to require a lot of additional space, much more than what was visible on the face of the cliff. The dimension of a cell used to be about 7 × 7 feet, or slightly more, or less. In addition, at least 1 foot of thickness was required for the cells’ front walls doorways. So, it adds up to 8 feet on the left and 8 feet on the right of the floor plan. Total 16 feet will be the increased width of the floor plan in the interior. If the visible width of the façade was 37 feet, the required width inside (including the cells) will be 37 + (8 × 2 = 16) = 53 feet. Moreover, to keep a safe distance from the neighbouring caves, some more extra space had to be measured. This simple but important point the planners had certainly missed to pre-calculate. As a result, they found after excavating the interior that there was no scope to excavate all the cells as originally planned. Consequently, forced by the unexpected situation they had to make some compromising adjustments. They planned some new cells and excavated them at most unusual locations. The oddly located cells are seen on either side of the porch. That such a sequence of events and adjustments happened may also be corroborated by a plethora of in-situ evidence, which unequivocally suggest that the porch cells were afterthoughts. They were meant to compensate the loss of cells in the interior right wall, which in turn was due to another factor relating to the angle of the cave’s axis. Let us understand it a little bit. As noted earlier, the cave’s original plan was the Type LM2bii (Pl. 4), essentially a dormitory. The plan had a porch, a hall, and equal number of cells on the left, rear, and right interior walls (Pl. 16.3). In other words, the right interior wall was also meant to have cells, which of course required adequate space over there. However, there had been committed a second mistake. It was regarding the cave’s Cartesian Y-axis, which turned out to be approximately 195° S-SW45 while 45 Author’s measurement; cf. ‘193.5°’ by Vahia, et al. (2017, 808). Circa 465 309 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 that of the adjacent Cave 10 it was 190° S-SW on azimuth.46 It means that the Y-axes of the two caves are not parallel;47 they are not perpendicular on the Cartesian X-axis. The conflicting angles are difficult to notice from outside, or inside, until and unless you inspect the matter. That is why the planners of our Cave 11 had not suspected the problem. They realised the problem only after the hall had been excavated. Fortunately, they noticed in time that the (interior) right wall was about to slam into the left vault of the Cave 10 (Pl. 16.3). The gap between the two caves had narrowed down to a few feet only. This meagre space was simply not enough for excavating the right interior cells of our Cave 11. So, the plan of carving cells on the right wall was promptly aborted. Perhaps, a warning signal had also come from the Caves 25 and 26 (Pl. 23.2), which were also simultaneously being excavated during 464–465 (Pl. 15). In those caves, an accident had already perhaps taken place. While excavating the Cell D on the left side of the porch of the Cave 25, the masons had accidently narrowed through the right upper vault of Cave 26. They had hammered an accidental hole.48 If you stand inside that cell (which is there on the left side of Cave 25’s porch) you can see the hole; you can peep through it, which will show you the nave of the adjacent Cave 26. If you stand inside the nave of Cave 26, the hole can be spotted in the front right corner of the ribbed vault. As a result of the accident the work was aborted in the concerned cell of the Cave 25. The whole left area of the porch was then abandoned. This mishap impacted the entire further development of that cave. Something like that also happened in our Cave 11. The work had been halted yet again, even if briefly. E E I: F B 465 M F I G G ,E . K , While such a disappointing scenario was prevailing in our Cave 11 there had started another development of another kind that impacted nearly half of India. Many caravans of people, merchants, and monks had likely begun to migrate from Bactria and Greater Gandhāra towards Middle India and the Deccan (Pls. 1.4a; 46 47 48 Author’s measurement; cf. ‘199°’ by Vahia, et al. (2017, 808). S07 (142–144). S12a (figs. 18–19). 310 Rajesh Kumar Singh 3.4a).49 They were displaced from the north-west of India. There had been a sort of internecine warfare going on among the Kidarite, Alchon, and Hephthalite Huns. During c. 451–454 , the Alchons had pushed out the Kidarites from the Oxus Valley, Gandhāra, Taxila, western Punjab, and Kashmir.50 However, in c. 464–465 the Hephthalites had expelled the Alchons from the Greater Gandhāra region.51 This triggered an exodus of people in all possible directions; the Buddhist establishments were among the worst affected, for they had the maximum wealth in the temples52 attracting the maximum plundering and looting. The refugee crisis may be called the Buddhist Exodus I, which may be ascribed to c. 465–467 (Table 2.2; Pls. 1.4a; 3.4a).53 The displaced people were unable to flee to the north, south, or west of Bactria and Greater Gandhāra because those areas were already like cauldrons of fire. Even to the east, the situation was disturbed up to the Indus River. They had to think of some faraway lands to seek refuge and safety. A likely destination was the Tarim / Taklamakan area in the north-east of Bactria and Gandhāra. The peripheral settlements on the Desert were least attractive for the invaders that had insatiable craving for gold.54 It was not yet disturbed by c. 465–467 . The disturbance happened later on when some of the oasis towns were attacked by the Hephthalites.55 Another likely destination was India, particularly the inner pockets of India, i.e. Middle India, the Deccan, and Aparānta. The conclusion of our research is that a substantial number of refugees had definitely reached Middle India, the Deccan, and Aparānta during early 465 . At the time, the regions south of Narmada offered the best hideouts to the terrorized refugees. They did not settle anywhere close to the north-western frontiers of Skandagupta’s Empire. Needless to say, whenever war refugees migrate en masse they cross over to a land that could provide them refuge, food, shelter, and safety. A climate of peace is the number one precondition. The scenario in India at the time was that the Narmada valleys and the Vindhyan Ranges had vast stretches of deep jungles and endless green mountains as gateway to the great Western Ghats. They might not have S20a (27–28), S20b (17–18), S20c (126–128). Singh (Forthc., ch. II). S20a (15–20), S20c (125), S21 (4–5, 12). 51 Zeimal (1996, 128), Kurbanov (2010, fig. 87), S20a (27–28), S21 (12 n. 49), SB (xv), SBC (17–58). 52 SB (63, 91). 53 S20c (125–128). 54 SB (232, 264, 301). For a study of the Huns vis a vis gold, vide SB (p. 19, 29, 31, 36, 38, 57, 58, 134, 135, 174, 175, 176, 177, 270, 366, 373, 376, 396, 400, 401, 403). 55 Called Yeda, or hu, or Hua in the sources. SB (50–55). 49 50 Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 311 been the most ideal places for settlement. However, the jungles and mountainous landscapes were the safest hideouts for the harried monastics who could muster courage to cope with the wildlife but not with the iconoclast, inhuman, barbarians, which the Alchons Huns appear to have been at the time. We can say this not from the angle of the invaders but from the angle of the invaded. The new Gupta emperor, Skandagupta, r. 455–469 56 (Pl. 14) – who was then heading the Grand Alliance of the Indian Empires57 – had indeed restored the peace. This was after the two previous wars when the Alchon Huns were repulsed at great costs of the lives of many kings.58 The first Hunnic invasion has been ascribed to c. 447 ,59 and the second to c. 455 60 (Pl. 14). It was not just the peaceful climate, even the religious climate was incentivising, because the Vākāṭaka Empire under Hari Ṣeṇa, r. 459(?)–477(?) had also adopted the multi-religious state policy of the Guptas. It is clear from the current research that Hari Ṣeṇa had become an emperor par excellence. His boundaries had vastly expanded to include the following countries: Vidarbha, Ṛṣika (roughly Khandesh), Avanti, Lāṭa, Aparānta, Trikūṭa, Aśmaka, Mūlaka, and Kuntala (Pl. 14).61 Some of these countries and many others have been named in the Ajanta Cave 16 inscription, v. 18 as the lands ‘subjugated’ by the S20a (21–22), S21 (17 n. 80–81). It was a strategic and military alliance between the Gupta Empire, Vākāṭaka Empire, their vassals, and other kings. For the new theory, vide S21 (16–17, 21–22, 37, 46, 51–53). The alliance’s aim was to defend against the Early Alchon Huns, to create a security architecture against the Hunnic attacks. The alliance was somewhat like how NATO was formed. But, the Alchon Huns already had a ‘NATO system’ of their own that was much more formidable, experienced, and ferocious. 58 ‘Skandaguptasya śānte varṣé / tranquil reign of Skandagupta:’ vs. 3–4 of Kahāum Stone Pillar Inscription of Skandagupta dated 460/461 , vide Siddham (IN00034), B81 (No. 29), Sircar (1965, No. 26), and F88 (No. 15). 59 S21 (12–22). 60 S21 (22–34). 61 M63 (108, 110): ‘स क ु ु लाव् किलঢ়कोसलिআकूटलाटा [परा ] जािनमान [।] U – U — U – U ि – U – [18 ||] / sa kuntalāvantikaliṉgakōsalatrikūṭalāṭāndhra[parānta] शौय१ िव঒ुतानिप िनद८ शगु णाित jānimān [|] U – U — U – U śauryaviśrutānapi svanirdeśaguṉāti – U – [18 ||].’ Sircar (1965, 453) read ‘शौय१ िव঒ुतान् ’ as – ‘U नैरधृतान् ’. ‘परा / parānta’ is supplied by Gokhale (1991, 9–10), (1992, 277). For Singh’s study on how Hari Ṣeṇa occupied these lands, vide S21 (chs. VI, XI). The following are the place names as identified in S65 (453, n. 2) and M63 (107): – Kuntala: Kannada country, district round Banavāsi. Avanti: Western Mālwā, capital Ujjain. Kalinga: The country between Mahānadī and Godāvarī; in the narrow sense Purī-Ganjam region of Orissā. Kōsala: South Kosala or modern Chattisgaḍh with adjoining parts of Orissa, including Rājpur-Sambalpur-Bilāspur region. Trikūṭa: Country to the west of Nāsik. Lāṭa: Central and southern Gujarāt, between Mahi and Tāpi; Nausāri-Bharuch region. Āndhra: The Telugu speaking country to the south of Godāvarī. Aparānta: The northern Koṇkan. Cf. mapping of these regions by Weiner (1977, 11), reproduced in W17 (178), W14 (xv). 56 57 312 Rajesh Kumar Singh Vākāṭaka Mahārāj Hari Ṣeṇa. The security shield of the Alliance covered a large part of India: From the Irāvati (Ravi) and Śatadru (Sutlej) Rivers in northern India to the Krishna River in the southern Deccan, and from Bengal in the east to Saurāṣṭra in the west. Such a vast stretch of land offered extensive sanctuary to the refugees, for the rest of Eurasia was highly disturbed including China. The refugees could not have settled near the Sindhu (Indus), Vitasta (Jhelum), Candrabhāga (Chenab), Irāvati, or Śatadru Rivers, for those regions had been invaded in the past. In spite of all measures of border fencing / guarding, the borderlands of any state are always prone to fresh intrusions / attacks. After all, it was along the said borderlands and rivers where Skandagupta’s father, Kumāragupta I,62 r. 41563–44764 (Pl. 14), and then his uncle, Ghaṭotkacagupta, r. 416–447–455,65 were likely killed by the same enemies—the Alchon Huns led possibly by Mahāṣāhi Khīṅgīla.66 Although the migrants were indeed refugees they were not perhaps treated as “aliens” / “foreigners” or burdens. They had not come from an unfamiliar cultural background. They belonged to the same religious and cultural tapestry that stretched from Gandhāra to the Deccan, thanks to Vaiṣṇavism, Śaivism, Buddhism, and Jainism, which had a history and footprints up to Balkh in Afghanistan. Forced occupation of their lands, looting of their properties, and burning of their temples would have been a common sight in Bactria, Greater Gandhāra,67 and Sindh. There are reasons to believe that some of the migrants also started going towards Kucha, which was a northern oasis town on the Taklamakan Desert. They did not at first go to Kucha when the Exodus I started in c. 465 . It was in the subsequent year (466 ) when some refugees appear to have gone towards Kucha (Table 2.2; Pls. 1.4a; 3.4a). The migrations of people created rapid cultural exchanges. In Kucha, many transformations began from the archaeological Period II (c. 466–474 ), which must be attributed to this Exodus I (Pl. 3.4a). There started in Kucha a similar pattern of architectural adaptations as in India, i.e. 62 The Gupta genealogy has been a work in progress. For a recent version, vide W05 (135–137). Cf. earlier versions: F88 (17), Majumdar and Altekar (1954, 173–175), B81 (1–89), Chakrabarti (1996, 191), Zeimal (1996, 127), and B97 (170). 63 Based on the Sanchi inscription of Gupta Era 93 (412/413 ) and Bilsad inscription of 96 (415 / 416 ), vide F88 (29, 42), S65 (280–285), and cf. W05 (136 n. 16). 64 W05 (135–137). 65 S21 (13 n. 54–57). 66 S21 (12–25). 67 SB (xv–xvi, 50–55). Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 313 typological conversions of the existing caves. A common theme was introduced at both the sites, i.e. the concept of multi-functional and composite architecture.68 The monks, laity, and merchants who came to India did not presumably come empty-handed. When you are a refugee fleeing from the homeland, you may leave everything behind, but not your gold, jewellery, currency, favourite scripture, God (depicted in some form that is easy to carry), etc. Once in the new lands, the migrants took interest in the ongoing developments of rock-cut monuments across various sites. Two years later in c. 468 there came Exodus II (Table 2.6; Pl. 3.4b), which witnessed a greater displacement of people. They mixed up with the local people so creatively and constructively that they became instruments of great change. This fact was metaphorically expressed by the depictions of the “foreigners” in the arts of Bagh and Ajanta. It included the depiction of their cultures, costumes, ethnicities, worldviews, scholasticisms, texts, mythologies, legends, and other cultural elements.69 This is the explanation to the ghost question as to what the ‘foreigners’ are doing in the arts of Bagh and Ajanta. 68 The matter requires attention from scholars of Kucha studies. Giuseppe Vignato has made a chart that indicates that the layout of many caves of Kucha were changed during what he calls Periods II, III, and IV, vide Howard and Vignato (2014, 174–175), Vignato (2006, 52–54). The architectural changes were begun from Period II: ibid. 174. But there is no date to it, because Viganto is generally hesitant to assign any dates to his periodisation unless vaguely. He does not tell us when his Period II began and ended. He does not tell us when his Period III began, but he did tell us once that ‘the year 550 . . could be considered the dividing point of the site into earlier (first to third) and later (fourth) phases’ (Vignato 2006, 50). Whatever be the end of the Period III, the beginning has been recently assigned to c. 475 (Pl. 3.7): vide S20a (37–38; tables 3–4; pls. I.7, X), S20b (tables 1, 5; pls. I.7, 10), S20c (pls. I.7, 10). It must be linked to the Exoduses III and IV that emanated from Gandhāra and India towards different regions including Kucha (Table 2.8–9; Pl. 3: 5, 7). As far as the beginning of Kucha’s Period II is concerned, it was certainly catalysed by Exodus I (Table 2.2, Pl. 3.4a). The migrants from Bactria and Gandhāra introduced, in India as well as in Kucha, the concept of multi-functional architecture among other things. This happened during c. 465–466 . This date is crucial for Kucha as well as Middle India and the Deccan. It brought significant changes in northern Tarim / Taklamakan regions as well as India. On these grounds, Kizil’s Period II may be ascribed to c. 466–474 (Pl. 3.4a). It was a small time span of 8–9 years. More displacement of people happened later on. There came a time when large number of migrants went all around from Bactria, Gandhāra, Middle India, and the Deccan. It happened during c. 477 that has been termed Exodus IV (Table 2.9, Pl. 3.7). 69 None of the avadānas painted in Ajanta and Bagh could be prior to Exodus I, c. 465–467 (Table 2.2; Pls. 1.4a; 3.4a). A host of other features and ideas also came from Gandhāra. The proposition also concurs with Spink’s ‘Chronology of the Paintings at Ajanta,’ vide S07 (392–393), S09 (figs. 42–43). According to the same, the first paintings were done in 468 starting from the Ajanta caves 11, Lower 6, 16, and 20. However, our studies indicate that at least some narrative paintings had already begun before 468 . They were more ‘classical’ or traditional drawn from the Pali jātakas, for after 467 the north-western MSV scholasticisms, image cult, Bodhisattvayāna, etc. had taken over the regions south of the Vindhyan Range. The fact not only applies to Ajanta but also to Bagh and other contemporary sites (Table 1). 314 Rajesh Kumar Singh Among the many fresh ideas that the migrants brought, one was that of the tri-functional architecture. It was common in the north-west of India for many centuries.70 Tri-functional edifices were three times more economical, useful, and versatile. They required only one-third of the funding, human resources, and turnaround time. The greatest advantage was the architectural integrity and versatility that it offered. It had included all the major functions under the same roof: worship, congregation, and dwelling. Other associated functions could also be carried out, such as resting, dining, or meditation. We are not the first one to notice that it was a new plan at Ajanta, etc. Sheila L. Weiner had noticed it. She could think of two possible sources of inspiration. One was Nagarjunakonda.71 The other was Haḍḍā in Afghanistan.72 The first suggestion about Nagarjunakonda is questionable on two counts. First, Andhra, like the Deccan, had also undergone the same lull period, i.e. Hiatus I, c. 326 – c. 459 73 (Pls. 1.3; 3.3). It was a kind of Dark Age for the Buddhist rock-cut monuments of Dakṣiṇāpatha lasting for about 133 years. Therefore, it is highly unlikely that a ruptured site would catalyse a revived site. The second improbability comes from architectural typology. Two Ajanta monuments were of the Type MC1c (Pl. 4): the Caves 19 and 26 (Pls. 6.7–8; 17; 24.4–5). This type was there in Nagarjunakonda but in a miniaturized format. Moreover, it was never independent, but was an architectonic prefix to the monasteries having a pillared hall with cells (Pl. 5.9–10). In that sense, the Nagarjunakonda typology was also LMC2 + MC1c. It was also tri-functional, composite, and integrated. However, the greatest distinction was the fact that there were multiple axes. The areas of worship had own axis and the congregation hall had another axis. In fact, the two axes were not the same or parallel, but perpendicular to each other. This is For a better understanding of how various ideas on art and architecture travelled from one culture and civilisation to another, more studies are necessary on fifth-century Greater Gandhāra, the Indian subcontinent, West Asia, and Central Asia. We need to build on the studies by Majumdar and Altekar (1954, 107), Weiner (1977, 42, 48), Divakaran (1989), Callieri (1997–1998, cat. 7.39, pl. 24), Behrendt (2007, figs. 10, 12, 13, 27), Brancaccio and Behrendt (2006, 85–86, 89, 91, 93, 96, 98), Khan (2008), Kim and Han (2011), Lo Muzio (2012), (2014), Zin (2013), Compareti (2014), Rienjang and Stewart (2018, 75, 94, 151, 153, 156–157, 160–162), Brancaccio (2018, 62–65), and Ciordia (2020). The following may also be consulted: Ashraf Khan and Mahmood-ul-Hassan (2004), Lo Muzio (2008, figs. 4–7, 9, 13), Khan (2016), and Gandhāran Studies journal being published from Pakistan. Floor plans of some of the sites have been collated on Plates 20–22; and a list of some of the other sites can be found in Table 7. 71 Weiner (1977, 44–46, fig. 4, 109, 111). 72 Weiner (1977, 47–47, fig. 5, 110–113). 73 For more on Hiatus I, vide S20b (12–14). 70 Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 315 not what is seen in Ajanta, Bagh, etc. There were at least 15 other monuments in Ajanta and two at Bagh that had started as Types LM2bii, but were now being converted into the Type LMC2 + S4. In short, whereas the typology in Nagarjunakonda was LMC2 + MC1c, the Ajanta typology of at least 15 caves was Type LMC2 + S4. The mismatch proves that these are different buildings, based on different plans and principles, and should not even be compared together. There were two shrines in Nagarjunakonda whereas in Ajanta, Bagh, etc. there was a single shrine. It was located inside the hall and on the axis of the cave. It was located at the deepest end of the axis carved into the rear wall. Another point of contrast is that the stupa and the image both were enshrined separately in different locations of the edifice; they were not synthesized together as in the Ajanta caves 19 and 26. The metaphor is indicative of the cultic practices. Whereas in Nagarjunakonda the duality was retained, in fact preserved and nurtured, at Ajanta and Bagh the duality was synthesized or abolished. The foregoing factors are enough to rule out the possibility that Nagarjunakonda inspired the change in Ajanta. Now we come to the other suggestion by Weiner that the said architectural layout of Ajanta, etc. – the Type LMC2 (Pls. 4; 5.10–36) – had some connection with Haḍḍā in Afghanistan. This suggestion appears to be quite possible although Weiner or other scholars after here who felt the same were unable to describe the details and circumstances that made it possible. Our study indicates that the Type LMC2 + S4 (Pl. 4) of Bagh, Ajanta, etc. was prevalent only in the north-west of India: in Taxila, Gandhāra, Haḍḍā, Miran, etc. This layout was there, albeit the format was masonry architecture. A counter argument may be made that such composite buildings are found in plenty at many Buddhist archaeological sites along the Indo-Gangetic plains and also in Nepal. The argument cannot be supported by other factors. There is no direct evidence to indicate that our planners in Middle India and the Deccan had a steady contact with the Buddhist sites along the Ganga-Yamuna plains. Notably, the doctrines of the Mahāyāna and Mūlasarvāstivāda movements were prevalent in northern India from the first century itself. However, the same was not reflected south of Narmada up until c. 468 . We should not commit the mistake of thinking that there was anything called pan-Indian Buddhism. What we had were regional schools, sects, and traditions. The foregoing discussion indicates that the architectural typology that was prevalent in the north-west of India had to be the one to inspire the typological change in Ajanta, Bagh, etc. To this possibility we have proposed that the said 316 Rajesh Kumar Singh change happened due to Exodus I, 465–467 (Table 2.2; Pls. 1.4a; 3.4a). The realisation that there was Exodus I, II, III, and IV is going to be dependent on whether the reader is well familiar with many areas studies and disciplines; whether the reader is abreast with the current researches in the following domains: (a) The Ajanta studies; (b) The Gupta studies; (c) The Vākāṭaka studies; (d) The Traikūṭaka studies; (e) The Aulikara and Parivrajaka studies; (f) The Hunnic studies with focus on Early Alchon Huns; (g) The Kuchean studies; and (h) The Gandhāran studies. Such a reader will not doubt that there did take place a spate of typological conversions from dormitories to dormitorycum-temples; and that such conversions began during c. 465 and 466 .74 The movement pervaded across all the sites (Table 1). P C -G /S -S /N The tri-functional layout demanded the addendum of a naos in the rock-cut dormitories. So, there began a massive programme of retrofitting a naos inside every dormitory across some two dozen odd sites that we know of (Table 1; Pls. 25–27).75 The Ajanta Cave 11 (Pls. 6.10; 16.3; 23.1; 26.1) was among the first edifices that were converted from the Type LM2bii to the Type LMC2 + S4 (Pl. 4). Its shrine (Pls. 26.1; 28.6–7) was among the first ones to have been initiated anywhere in Middle India or the Deccan.76 The shrine’s original blueprint did not have any image in it. It was simply, and strictly, a stupa-shrine.77 The same was the case of every other shrine that was simultaneously planned or initiated during 465–467 (Pls. 6.7–32; 25–27). The stupa is hidden at the back of the Buddha image (Pl. 28.7).78 The stupa was never completed. The floor is raised up in the back area (Pls. 28.6; 29.2), which in my opinion was to reserve a matrix of rock for carving a base for the drum as in the Bagh Caves 2 and 4 (Pls. 18.1–2; 27.5–6). They wanted to carve the base at a later stage, a task that Cf. ‘466–468’ (S09, fig. 41); ‘466’ (S14, 65), (S09, 26), (S07, 50); ‘467’ (S07, 153); ‘468’ (S14, 54), (S07, 389), (S09, fig. 39). Spink argued that Bagh Cave 2 inspired the stupa of the Ajanta Cave 11, vide S14 (54 n. 57), S17 (31–36). 75 For Spink’s excellent documentation of many such naoi, vide S14 (65–108). Note, however, that there is a difference of up to 2 years between his dating and my dating. 76 S14 (54). 77 S09 (pl. 90), S14 (1). 78 The shrine areas of the Ajanta caves have restricted entry. So, for studying the shrine, the reader is advised to use Google Map’s ‘Street view’ feature that shows things in 3D. Currently, it is the best available tool for in-situ research. 74 Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 317 was never finished. Notice also that some parts of the stupa are missing: the umbrella (Skr. chatra), the shaft of the umbrella, the harmikā, and vedikā. Why these are parts missing? Let us probe the matter. If you imagine Ajanta in c. 465 , there were about 20 dormitories (layaṇas) that were in different stages of progress.79 The task of adding a stupa-shrine (cetiyaghara) was difficult, particularly in the larger caves. So, smaller edifices (Caves 5, 11, and 15) were first chosen for the addition of shrines. Our Cave 11 was not only small in dimension, it was also situated next to the ancient cetiyaghara Cave 10. Proximity to Cave 10 was also a deciding factor. Moreover, the cave’s excavation had also reached an advanced stage; the hall had been largely scooped out; the walls had been levelled; and the masons were working on the cells. In fact, some of the cells had been carved out including the rear ones. It was at that point of time (early 465 ) when there started to happen the Buddhist Exodus I, c. 465–467 (Table 2.2; Pl. 3.4a). War refugees from Bactria and Greater Gandhāra had begun to arrive in Middle India and the Deccan.80 When the migrant monastics found that the Śrāvakayānists of Ajanta were making big rock-cut temples and numerous rock-cut dormitories, they found it strange. It was strange because separate edifices were being made for worship and dormitories. Whereas the migrants knew better solution; they had composite architecture in their lands. It was evaluated that the function of worship could very well accommodated within the dormitories, and conversely, the function of dwelling could be added to the worship halls – Caves 19 and 26 (Pls. 6.7–8; 17.1–2). The suggested scheme was a hybrid concept in terms of function and utility. Although such composite and integrated architecture were definitely made in the past, but they had perhaps been long forgotten. The experiments were carried out in some caves during Period I.2 (Pl. 5) but those experiments had remained on the margins only. So, when the concept was re-introduced in the fifth century , it appeared a nice idea. However, the planners had to evaluate the feasibility. Essentially the task was to add a sanctum sanctorum to the dormitories, which were quadrant and flat-roofed. The dormitories were duo-functional (congregation and dwelling), which were now to be converted into tri-functional edifices with the addition of a shrine. It was a comprehensive architectural solution to provide for dwelling, Ajanta Caves 1, 2, 4, 5, Lower 6, Upper 6, 7, 8, 11, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26 lower right wing, 26 lower left wing, and 27 (Pls. 4, 15). 80 S20a (27–28), S20b (17–18), S20c (126–128). 79 318 Rajesh Kumar Singh congregation, and worship under the same roof. The new layout had to be the Type LMC2 + S4 (Pl. 4). If the clergy was in charge of the ‘town planning’ and major decisions, it approved the tri-functional layout. It was then left for planners, donors, and workers to implement the scheme. Consequently, everyone in Middle India and the Deccan began to convert the leṇas (dormitories) or leṇa-maṭapas (dwelling + congregation) into layaṇa-caityagṛhas or layaṇa-maṭapa-caityagṛhas (dwelling + congregation + worship). The idea was so insistent and powerful, and the advantages were so attractive, that the planners of Ajanta, Bagh, etc. went back to the drawing board. They began to re-draft how exactly a stupa-shrine could be added to the dormitories under excavation.81 It was all about wanting to have what may logically be called the quadrantile and flat-roofed cetiyaghara.82 The tri-functional layout turned out to be a game changer. It eliminated the need of excavating multiple buildings for different functions. It would also have been realised that the apsidal and vaulted temples were far more demanding on time, budget, skilled workforce, and execution. What was worse, they addressed only two functions: worship and congregation. Until that time (c. 465 ) the cetiyagharas of India seldom had any cells. They were also duo-functional (worship and congregation). It was, therefore, realised at Ajanta that the four temples were not enough: Caves 10, 9, 26, and 19, in this chronological order (Pl. 24.1–5). Now they knew that every edifice could be turned into a temple, call it whatever: Leṇa-cetiyaghara / layaṇa-caityagṛha / Type LMC2 / templecum-convent (Pls. 4; 6.10–36). Thus, the year 465 was a turning point in 83 rock-cut architecture. There were 17 such edifices in Ajanta: Caves 1, 2, 4, Lower 6, Upper 6, 7, 8, 11, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 23, 24, 26 lower right wing, and 26 lower left wing; at least two in Bagh; one in Ghaṭotkaca; at least one in Pālé, and at least two in Dharashiva. 82 Many edifices at Ajanta, Bagh, and Ghaṭotkaca were originally planned as Type LM2bii (Pls. 6.10–32), and two edifices were planned as Type MC1c (Pl. 5.7–8). The former type was meant for dwelling, congregation, resting/dining whereas the latter type was meant for congregation and worship (Pl. 4). The edifices that had begun as Type LM2bii – e.g. Caves 1, 2, 4, 6, 16, 17, etc. – were converted or attempted to be converted into the Type LMC2 (Pl. 4). Whereas those that had begun as Type MC1c – Caves 19 and 26 – were converted into LMC1 (Pl. 6.7–8). Such conversions have been thoroughly deduced and painstakingly analysed by Spink (2009, 25–28), (2017, 31–36). 83 ‘466’ : S09 (25–28), S17 (31–36); cf. ‘465:’ S20c (124–125, 138). 81 Circa 465 319 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 L E 465 C F -G /N Drawing a blueprint was one task; translating it in a monolithic context was quite another. Materialisation of the new ideas required many adaptations. First, a new system of decoration was needed. The original plan was merely that of a dormitory, which did not require much decoration. However, a leṇa-cetiyaghara (Prakrit)84 was surely going to require one. The newly planned naos had to be positioned on the axis of the cave, and to be carved in the rear wall. The problem was that the masons had already excavated the rear cells: rL1, rL2, rR1, and the central one that was later converted into a naos (Pl. 16.3–4). What to do with them was a ghost question. They were coming on the way of the shrine. In fact, they were occupying the space that was required for the shrine. The only way out was to transform one of the central cells into a shrine. For this, a cell was chosen that was closest to the axis, i.e. the cells between rL1 and rR1 (Pl. 16.3–4). There was a need to completely transform that cell in such a way as to create a stupa-shrine. Yes, indeed, what they wanted was a stupa-shrine; they did not have any image in mind. The image was carved later on. For augmenting the interior space of the cell they needed to increase the depth, width, and height. In the process, the stupa needed to be revealed. The concept of a naos for anthropomorphic Buddha had not yet germinated in Middle India, the Deccan, and western India. It was not going to be introduced until c. 468 (Table 2.7, Pl. 3.4b).85 In 465 , our planners did not know that they would be making further changes. At the time the Buddhists of Middle India, the Deccan, and western India followed an orthodox Śrāvakayāna school. They were strictly the adherents of the stupa cult. They were not Mūlasarvāstivādins (yet). Consider the fact that in the earlier times we do not come across the depiction of Śākyamuni, Bodhisattva, Avalokiteśvara, Hārītī, Dipankar Buddha, MāṇibhadraPūrṇabhadra, Saṃsāracakra (Wheel of Life) pralambapādāsana mudrā, avadānas (from MSV), and other legends (from non-canonical Sanskrit literature) in the rock-cut monuments of Middle India, the Deccan, and western India.86 It appears Or layaṇa-caityagṛha (Skr.) or temple-cum-monastery (Eng.). S09 (figs. 41, 45), S14 (459–460, 463–464), S17 (31–34, 414). 86 Among the exceptions are the tiny Buddha and Bodhisattva images carved in Kanheri Cave 3 during the first century . Those too were likely sponsored by donors from the north-west of India, vide Leese (1979, 93). 84 85 320 Rajesh Kumar Singh that there was hardly any depiction of anything connected directly to the MSV scriptures prior to this date. This was true of Middle India, Western India, and the Deccan. It was also more or less true of the whole of India. When depictions from the traditional MSV started from c. 468 CE onwards it was like a tsunami of Buddha images. However, a point must be noted that the Bodhisattvas were still not introduced until c. 470 CE. It took a while for them to find the general acceptance, which happened by c. 475 CE. There also came a time when they became rather compulsory by c. 477 CE. The phenomenon was witnessed across all the other rock-cut sites. The point that needs to be underlined is that all these sea changes happened when the first hammer was struck in our Cave 11 for carve what was to be the first Buddha image of Middle India, western India, and the Deccan.87 Going back to 465 , nobody had any inkling that they will soon abort the plan or excavation of the stupas for the sake of newly approved Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. So, all the plans during c. 465–467 were focussed on excavating the stupa-shrines. The fact is applicable not only for Ajanta and Bagh but also for other sites wherever rock-cut caves were being excavated (Table 1). The Ajanta caves 19 and 26 (Pls. 6.7–8; 17; 24.4–5), which were the only ones that were originally planned as ceityagharas, were also meant to have just the stupas or cetiyas in them. There was no provision of any image in them. The two temples were planned rather like the older cetiyagharas, Caves 9 and 10 (Pls. 6.1–2; 24.1–2), excavated during the pre-Christian Era. The Buddha images seen in these four temples (Caves 9, 10, 19, and 26) were not even conceived prior to c. 466 . As to how exactly to begin the excavation work, it appears that the planners and the masons had no clarity. They did not have a ready formula, or knowledge of an established procedure, as to how to carve or excavate a cetiya-ghara / stupa-shrine in a monolithic context. Some errors were also committed in the process. Even the workmanship shows the lack of expertise. Observe, e.g. how the pillars have been carved (Pl. 28: 2, 3, 5); how the windows have different designs (Pl. 28.3); how the porch area has been so unusually treated (Pl. 28.2); how the doorways, jambs (Pl. 28.3), and cell doorsteps (Pl. 28.5) have been carved. Lack of great workmanship is also observed in the windows, doors, floors, benches, door fittings, stupa, ambulatory (Pls. 28.6; 29.1), sculptures, and angle of axis (Pl. 16.3). If you study the cave’s early development, you will spot enough evidence – too many to be detailed here – to indicate just how inexperienced the planners and masons were initially. 87 S20a (31, 57) S09 (fig. 45), S14 (77, 81, 82, 90, 97, 460). Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 P 321 P Even for expert carvers, it would never have been easy to carve out a hemispherical stupa. Getting a rotund shape, dome, or drum is always so difficult in a monolithic context. You needed to define by chisel and hammer some of the following parts of the stupa while excavating downwards from the top: 1. The chatra (umbrella); 2. The inverted stepped pyramid capital; 3. The harmikā / vedikā; 4. The aṇḍa (dome), 5. The meḍhī (drum); and 6. The base of the stupa with or without mouldings. However, not all the six parts are found in all the stupas. A survey of the early rock-cut stupas can show that there was no consistency.88 Our stupa of Cave 11 has the parts mentioned at No. 2, 4, and 5 above, but not No. 1, 3, and 6. Most baffling point is that there is no umbrella (Pl. 29). Often, the umbrellas were carved (in relief) in the ceiling itself. They were also wooden in many cases, as in Karle Cave 889 (Pl. 30.2). However, what is visible in our Cave 11 tells another story. Not only the carved umbrella is absent in the ceiling, we also do not see any shaft or socket for it. Even the harmikā and vedikā are absent. Most importantly, there is not enough space between the ceiling and the dome to accommodate these elements. The extant space is hardly one foot (Pl. 29: 1, 4). In that space, they had probably blocked out the inverted-stepped-pyramid-capital (Pl. 29.5). Remnants of the blocked out matrix of rock for the same can be sighted between the ceiling and the dome (Pl. 29: 3, 5). However, most of it (towards the rear side) was cut away when the plans had changed; when the stupa cult was unexpectedly supplanted by the image cult from c. 468 onwards (Table 2.7). Then, a Buddha image was carved on the front of our stupa. The two gandharva figures (Pl. 29.3) were also carved from the same matrix of rock that was reserved for the inverted-stepped-pyramid-capital. If you inspect the rear sides of the gandharvas’ legs you will be able to deduce that the legs could be carved because there was the reserved matrix of rock (Pl. 29: 3, 5). The form of a stupa is such that if you wish to create it inside a monolithic chamber you will need to leave out equal spaces in all directions. However, before you get to the stupa, you will have to first carve the chamber—or, maybe both together. You cannot excavate the chamber without dealing with the stupa, and vice versa. The process of monolithic excavation is always from the top downwards, which is just the opposite of what we do in a building or a construction work. 88 89 Dehejia (1972, 76–77), Nagaraju (1981, 72–77). N81 (pl. 129). 322 Rajesh Kumar Singh So, beginning from the ceiling level, one had to excavate towards the floor. Simultaneously, beginning from the front or from the shrine’s doorway, one had to excavate towards the rear wall. To do this from inside of what was earlier a cell of Cave 11, which now needed to be expanded, first you had to determine the expected depth, width, and height of the chamber (ghara). Second, you had to somehow mark the centre of the chamber. Then, sketch a circle around the centre for the umbrella. This would automatically leave out an equal measure of space on all the sides. The centre so defined was called the yaṣṭi90 or yūpa91 in the ancient times. It was the axis mundi. In masonry stupas, it was a wooden or stone pillar or shaft placed in the vertical centre of the stupa around which the stupa was erected. Here too, a yaṣṭi or yūpa was needed to be carved, or at least marked, in the ceiling’s centre. The centre of the chamber was also the centre of the umbrella and the stupa. That is why the umbrella was the first thing to be carved in the rock-cut stupas. It used to be carved in relief in the ceiling (Pl. 30.3). However, this was not done in our Cave 11. Did they not know the process? Was there nobody to supervise the masons? Now the problem was how to excavate the stupa when the centre was not marked in the ceiling? Surely, it was a blunder, the first evidence that the carvers were novices. They did not even anticipate that there was a risk in proceeding further without a handbook, so to speak.92 They did not even carve the entire ceiling. This can be said if you observe the rear part of the ceiling, which is not angular but semi-circular (Pls. 28.6; 29.1). It is a new point of consideration. Why would they want a semi-circular / apsidal back? It was strange because such an apsidal back is not found in such naoi of the fifth and sixth century (Pls. 8–13) that are flat-roofed and quadrant, no matter what the site (Table 1). It is also not there in the older Ajanta Cave 9 (Pls. 6.1; 24.1). The plan of the four worship halls were based on archetypal prototypes with a barrel vault over the nave and hemispherical ceilings at the back (Pls. 6:1–2; 7–8; 24). Three of them have apsidal floors: The Ajanta caves 10, 19, and 26 (Pls. 6.1; 7; 8). However, the floor of the Ajanta Cave 9 (Pl. 6.2) is not apsidal but angular at the back. Against such variations what was the logic or rational of carving a flat and apsidal ceiling and an apsidal floor? Why this unique configuration? We have no answer. We cannot explain why the first stupa-shrine Yaṣṭi (Skr.): staff, stick, flag-staff, stem, pole, pillar, etc. (Monier-Williams 2002, 848). Yūpa (Skr.): a sacrificial post or stake, column erected in honour of victory, pillar, trophy, etc. (Monier-Williams 2002, 856). 92 The fact that there was no such ‘handbook’ in the initial years has also been indicated by Spink (S09, 12), (S17, 3). 90 91 Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 323 in about 133 years had to be so adventurous.93 The only conclusion we are able to deduce under the circumstances is that the workers – and supervisors if there were any – were novices; they were working without a ‘handbook.’ They did not have a clear procedure in place. That is why they were doing odd things. As to why they did not create any yaṣṭi, they must not have spotted the yaṣṭi in the adjacent Cave 10 (Pl. 24.3). The yaṣṭi is visible today but it was surely not visible then. It was hidden or concealed under the woodwork and paintings, which must have completely covered it. All the wooden beams and rafters, and the layers of the plasters or paintings on them are gone now. So, we are able to see the yaṣṭi today. If we inspect the chamber of our Cave 11, more evidence of poor workmanship is visible. The walls have not been properly levelled. In fact, the left wall is crooked; it also has an accidental hole through which you can peep into the adjacent cell. The meḍhī (drum) is not exactly perpendicular; it is tilted at places; the circumference is greater on the lower side than the upper side (Pl. 29.2). The shape of the dome also exhibits lack of perfection. The only items displaying fine workmanship are the sculptures: The Buddha figure, the gandharva figures, and the kneeling worshipper (Pl. 28.6). Why is that so? Was there a different hand working on them? If you investigate the matter, you will come to the same conclusion as Spink and I did that the images were not planned at all when the stupa was being done. They belong to a different date in the future.94 They were going to be carved about two years later in c. 468 (Table 2.7). They were not even conceived in c. 465 when the stupa was being excavated. A ( N ?) So, leaving the sculptures aside, let us now attend to the area behind the stupa, which looks like an incomplete semi-circular ambulatory (Pls. 26.1; 28.6; 29.1). The floor over there is raised up. Crude chisel marks are all over: on the floor, walls, and back of the stupa. There is absolutely no sign of completeness; no race of plaster or painting is there. The rear space behind the stupa is not angular but semi-circular, or apsidal, whatever you call it. In this respect, it is like the rear ambulatory of the adjacent Cave 10 (Pls. 6.1; 16; 24.2). It has already been suggested that the very conception of our Cave 11 was to serve as a residential 93 94 The gap was due to Hiatus I (Pls. 1.3, 3.3), vide S20b (12–14). S07 (150–152). 324 Rajesh Kumar Singh adjunct or companion to the older Cave 10,95 which has an apsidal ambulatory. This is a notable point, for the other ancient temple, Cave 9, has a quadrant floor plan; the rear of the stupa is angular; it is not apsidal (Pl. 6.2). We can deduce that the planners of our Cave 11 were looking at Cave 10 as a model, and not Cave 9. Now let us come to the question whether what looks like an ambulatory is indeed an ambulatory meant for circumambulation. The question is raised from the viewpoint of function, which as we know always dictates the form of architecture. Form-follows-function is a principle in design discipline, architecture, mechanics, structuralism, and even life sciences. If you survey the leṇa-cetiyagharas up to Period IV you will find a startling fact that a majority of them does not have any ambulatory (Pls. 5–10). The few monuments that do have ambulatories belong to Period I.2 (Pl. 5) and II.1 (Pl. 6.7–17; 7.1–8). From Period II.2 to IV (Pls. 7.9–11; 8–9) no ambulatories were generally made. However, the ambulatory returned from the Kuchean Period III (Pl. 11) and the Indian Periods V(1) and V(2) (Pls. 12–13). It did so as a quadrantile ambulatory type: in Kucha as well as in India. The apsidal format was avoided.96 Thus the whole approach to ambulatory in terms of form and function was changed radically in the said later periods. Let us come now to the question of use or usage. From the beginning up to Period IV, some surprising observations could be made. You will find that most of the so-called ambulatories were neither used nor perhaps meant to be used. Although some ambulatories might have been used through Period I (Pl. 5.6–19) it was not the case through Periods II and III (Pls. 6–10). Consider, for example, that there are altogether 38 flat-roofed and quadrantile naoi across the fifth-century rock-cut sites (Pls. 6.10–36; 25–27). Out of them only 8 (about 22.2%) have the so-called ambulatories.97 The remainder 30 naoi (about 77.7%) do not have any such thing. Even in the caves where it is present there is a different logic to why it is there. The logic is that those naoi were initiated for the stupa, and not for the anthropomorphic Buddha. The form of the stupa is such that it naturally generates or expects a circular path or enclosure around it, which may or may not be used for circumambulation. However, during Period II, when the stupas, or plans of the stupas, were replaced by Buddha images (c. 468 onwards), there was no longer carved any ambulatory afterwards. Moreover, those ambulatories that were under excavation, the work in them was aborted and never resumed (Pls. 6.18–20; 7; 95 96 97 F80 (295). An exception was made in the case of Ellora Cave 10 (F80, pl. LXII). Ajanta caves 11, 16, Lower 6, and 17 (Pl. 6: figs. 10, 15–17; Pl. 7: figs. 1, 6–8). Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 325 9–11). Conclusion? The Buddha, it seems, did not require circumambulation; it was not a necessary ritual. The fact is applicable to all the 24-plus sites that were developing during Periods II and III (Table 1; Pls. 8–10). It also applies to Nagarjunakonda98 (Pl. 5.9–10). Even in such shrines where the work on the ambulatories had been completed before 468 , i.e. before the arrival of the Buddha image cult, there is evidence that those ambulatories were never put to use (Pl. 7).99 In the later course, because either the stupa was completely replaced or supplanted by the Buddha image, or the Buddha image was carved on the front faces of such stupas as in Caves 19 and 26 (Pls. 24.4–5), the Buddha figure had become the central object of veneration, i.e. the main divinity (from c. 468 onwards). The stupa was no longer enjoying the status of the main divinity. With the stupa gone, the purpose and function of circumambulation was also gone. Next we observe as if the image did not require any circumambulation. We are led to deduce by the pattern that even in the apsidal temples – Caves 19 and 26 (Pls. 17; 24.4–5) – no such ritual would have been performed. Such aspects may be observed even in the earlier times. There were hardly such ambulatories that had convenient circumambulation paths. Most of them have constricted spaces; passage through them would not have been easy; certainly not for groups of people on daily basis (Pl. 5); lighting is so abysmal. Most ambulatories do not have plaster or paintings. Only rarely the paintings are found on the rear walls, as in the Ajanta Cave 9. It is clear that the ambulatory areas were not given a priority by the fifth-century painters. So, the question surfaces again: If these are the facts then why the so-called ambulatories were made at all? If you carefully inspect the published plans or physically survey the in situ evidence it would be revealed that the so-called ambulatories were actually the results of a process; they were by-products of a procedure, i.e. the procedure involved in carving a stupa. This will be understood when we inquire why the ‘ambulatory’ of our Cave 11 was never completed (Pls. 28.6; 29.1–2). The fact is that the planners were least concerned about anything called ambulatory. They were rather focussed on the stupa. While carving the rear part of the stupa inside a monolithic chamber, the space behind was automatically created. So, it is simply a round space without any intended function. Later on, when the stupa cult was replaced by the Buddha cult, they carved the Buddha image, the gandharva figures, and the worshipper on the front face of the stupa (Pl. 28.6). However, 98 99 Weiner (1977, 44–46). S07 (39, 154–155, 157). 326 Rajesh Kumar Singh they did not even touch any more the incomplete round space at the back. At this point a counter argument may be made that the work was perhaps halted so that the ambulatory was never completed. The argument cannot be valid, for they had plenty of time to complete the so-called ambulatory had they really wanted. They had plenty of time to complete the images and paint them too, not only once, but two times. There are two layers of paint (Pl. 29: 1, 3). If you further inspect the naos as well as the entire cave, it will be found that the cave temple was also put to prolonged use and worship.100 The cave was plastered (Pl. 28.5), and many areas were also painted (Pl. 28) – albeit in different times.101 It is true that the work was repeatedly halted in the cave for various reasons. But there was always enough time, especially when the cave was in use for many years, for the ambulatory to be completed had they really wanted. The reason why it was never completed was only because the circumambulation was no longer or never a necessary ritual for the Śrāvakayānists of Middle India and the Deccan that created the rock-cut caves. Pradakṣiṇā (circumambulation) was not the real motive or function of the space at the back of the stupas. It is the same situation that will be found in all the other naoi of the times wherever there seems to be an ambulatory (Pl. 7.1–8). M S -A A point should now be noted that there is no pronaos or shrine-antechamber in some of the cave temples including our Cave 11 (Pls. 7.1–4). Why is that so? It has been recently suggested that the concept of pronaos was brought to India – or, more precisely, was re-introduced south of Vindhyachal – during the last quarter of c. 466 (Table 3.6).102 However, the stupa-shrine of our Cave 11 was already excavated in the previous year (late 465 ). At that time no one had heard about any such thing. No one had known about some of the pronaoi that existed in the earlier times, e.g. in the Nasik Cave 17,103 Kuḍā Cave 29, and Kuḍā Cave 24104 (Pl. 5: 1, 14–15). Belonging to the second century , the S07 (149, 157, 159, 160). According to Spink, the paintings of Cave 11 belong to four different dates: 468, early 469, early 478(?), and mid-478–480 , vide S07 (393), S17 (418). 102 S20c (124). 103 S20c (120–122). 104 In his article on shrine-antechambers, Singh (2020c, pl. 4.13–14) reproduced the plans of the Kuḍā caves 29 and 24 (Pl. 5.14–15) but he made no discussion on them at all. That is a notable error in his research. 100 101 Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 327 excavation of the Nasik cave was aborted even before the shrine could be fully completed. Because the intended relief stupa in the shrine of that cave was never actually carved, the edifice would not have been consecrated or worshipped. The cave must have been abandoned. So, no wonder if nobody knew about it, or about the experimental shrine-antechamber inside it.105 However, no such justification can be made with respect to the Kuḍā caves 29 and 24 (Pl. 5.14–15). So, it does seem like the earliest planners of Period II in Ajanta, Bagh, Dharashiva, and Pālé were really ignorant about the antechambers of the said Kuḍā caves. It was only for this reason that the earliest naos of Period II (Pl. 7.1–4) do not have any pronaos. As to the antechamber of the contemporary Bagh Cave 2 (Pls. 6.12, 7.2, 15, 18.2, 27.5), it was still not conceived at the time (late 465 ).106 According to our study that pronaos was carved during the last quarter of c. 466 , i.e. about one year later (Table 3.6). In late 465 , the masons in the Bagh Cave 2 would still have been busy in excavating the hall; they were still engaged in scooping out the rear part of the hall, which is so huge. It was not until the last quarter of 466 that there was introduced in that cave the concept of the shrine-antechamber.107 The harbingers of the novel concept were the migrants that kept pouring into Middle India and the Deccan from the ravaged lands of Bactria and Greater Gandhāra. They were war refugees. In their homelands, shrine-antechambers were common in Buddhist complexes and other temples.108 C This study expands the horizons of our knowledge about fifth-century South Asia. Some aspects and factors head not come to our notice as far as the published scholarship is concerned. By examining a single rock-cut monument of the fifth century—and within that just the inner shrine of that monument—we are able to understand and observe a much wider picture as to what was the cultural, political, military, and religious background. It is a completely new background that had escaped our attention. S20c (120–122). Cf. a different view of Weiner (1977, 42). 107 S20c (122–128). 108 S20c (128 n. 36). One of the earliest pronaoi closer to India is found in the Jaṇḍiāl Temple in Taxila (Pl. 20.1) dated to the Scytho-Parthian epoch (S. J. Marshall 1936, 105, pl. XVI). 105 106 328 Rajesh Kumar Singh The study revealed that the inner shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 was started in circa 460 like numerous other rock-cut monuments when Vākāṭaka Hari Ṣeṇa was ruling in northern Deccan and Skandagupta in northern India. After some years when the cave excavation was still in progress, there started troubles in Bactria and Greater Gandhāra. The Hephthalites had pushed out the Alchon / Alkhan Huns around c. 465 . Due to that disturbance Buddhist migrations started from Bactria and Greater Gandhāra. Some of the displaced people went inter alia towards Central Asia and Middle India. These lands were safe, at least during those years. The mass migration has been called here the Gandhāran Buddhist Exodus I of 465–477 . When the monastics came to India they introduced many facets of the Gandhāran culture and traditions. One of them was the Gandhāran architectural tradition that was being followed in the monasteries over there. There was a particular system of architecture, which was all-inclusive in terms of functionalities. The three major functions of monastic dwelling, congregation, and worship coexisted under the same roof. This system of architecture did not exist in Middle India and the Deccan until that time. Because more than 17 rock-cut edifices in Ajanta alone, and many more at other sites, were being developed, which were not trifunctional, but bi-functional. They were either places of worship and congregation or of congregation and dwelling. It was after the refugees that came over there that the idea of the tri-functional architecture, or a composite or hybrid architecture, was introduced in Middle India (Bagh) and the Deccan (Ajanta, etc.). As a result, there began many experiments throughout middle India and the Deccan. All the patrons who were involved in making such architecture started to add a naos or shrine to the ongoing excavation of the dormitories. This article shows how this difficult task was achieved; what were the problems encountered; what the challenges were; what solutions were arrived at; how this task was practically executed. It also tells us that within a few years there came a second wave of mass migrations from the same regions, which has been called here the Gandhāran Buddhist Exodus II of 468 . During Exodus II more new ideas were introduced. One of them was the cultic worship of the Buddha image, which came from the Mūlasarvāstivāda School. As a result, the shrine of our Ajanta cave 11, the work on which had been halted due to many mistakes and errors, sprang to life again. There was the new idea that the shrine should now have the Buddha figure instead of the stupa. However, the problem was how to carve a Buddha figure in a monolithic setup when the Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 329 shrine was already excavated with a half-carved stupa? They did not want the stupa anymore for sure. But the problem was that they could not have removed the stupa altogether. Where else would they carve the image? Some rock, in fact, enough amount of rock was needed. So, it was a choice to be made. The planners were forced to retain the stupa, the block of the stupa, up to whatever extent that it was carved. Then, they carved out the Buddha and attendant figures on the frontal face of the stupa and left the backside untouched. They did it so smartly that it is extremely hard to deduce the different layers of activities. The same thing was being done in every other shrine of every other edifice including the Ajanta caves 19 and 26. This is a new way of looking at things; of looking at Ajanta; of looking at the architecture of the times; of decoding the cultic practices from the rocks – the things that the coins, scriptures, and inscriptions did not tell us about. Last but not the least, it is a new way of reading the fifth-century South Asia when religious piety and “cauldrons” co-existed; when the Buddhism of Middle India and the Deccan was changed forever; when the stupa cult had given way for the image cult. 330 Rajesh Kumar Singh T Table 1. Working inventory of the Indian rock-cut sites/monuments during Periods II–IV Quantum of caves S.No. Site Region Religion P I P II–IV (c. 250 (c. 460–480 ) T cradled –325 ) by Hari Ṣeṇa 1. Ajanta Ṛṣika Buddhist 6 24 30 2. Ankai-Tankai Ashmaka/ Trikūṭa Jain, Hindu 0 4a 4 3. Aurangabad Mūlaka? Buddhist 3 3 6 4. Bagh Valkhā (Avanti) Buddhist 1 (lost?) 7 8 5. Banoṭī Ṛṣika Buddhist 0 1 1 6. Deogarh rock Middle shelter, U.P. India Buddhist 0 3b 3 7. Dhamnar, M.P. Avanti Buddhist 11 3 14c 8. Dharashiva Aśmaka/ Kuntala? Jain 10 4 14 9. Elephanta caves 2–4 Aparānta Buddhist → Śaivite? 0? 3 3 10. Ellora caves 27, 20A Mūlaka? Buddhist→ Śaivite? 0 2 2 11. Ghaṭotkaca Ṛṣika Buddhist 0 3 3 12. Junnar Aparānta Buddhist 100 1 101 13. Kanheri Aparānta Buddhist 87 33 120d 14. Kerūmātā Aparānta Buddhist 0 1 1 15. Khaṃbhālīdā Lāṭa / Saurashtra Buddhist 5 1 6 16. Khejadiya Bhoop, M.P. Avanti Buddhist ? ? 28 Circa 465 331 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 Quantum of caves S.No. Site b c d e f Religion P I P II–IV (c. 250 (c. 460–480 ) T cradled –325 ) by Hari Ṣeṇa 17. Kondavite Aparānta Buddhist 3 16 19e 18. Lamgaon Caves, Goa Kuntala Buddhist, Śaivite 0 2 2 19. Loṇāḍ Aparānta Buddhist 0 1 1 20. Maṇḍapeśvar Aparānta Buddhist→ Śaivite? 0 2 2 21. Nasik Trikūṭa Buddhist 20 5 25 22. Pālé Trikūṭa Buddhist 28 1 (adapted) 28f 23. Pitalkhora Mūlaka Buddhist 10 5 15 24. Shānā Vākiyā Saurashtra Buddhist 65 ? 65 349 125 501 Total a Region There are eight Jain caves, one of indeterminate affiliation, and one Hindu. Prima facie it appears to the present author that at least some caves should belong to fifth century ce, or they had a 5th-century phase, while the other caves are of later period. There is no rock-cut architecture as such. They are rock-shelters with Buddhist images: carved and painted. There is also a masonry stupa nearby (Joshi 2017). ASI (2015, 5). N81 (190), cf. Pandit (2012, 71). N81 (237). N81 (250). Note: Kotra, M.P. had some related developments (Manuel, forthc.). The caves of other periods or the sites of other regions are outside the scope. 332 Rajesh Kumar Singh Table 2. Four Buddhist mass migrations / exoduses across South and Central Asia between c. 465 and 477 First occurrence of a feature (a) Quadrant and flat-roofed layout (dwelling + congregation) (b) Apsidal and vaulted (worship + congregation) S.No. Date Exodus Area 1. 460 – mid-465 – Middle India and the Deccan – 2. 465–467 Exodus I Bactria & Gandhāra to many different lands including Kucha and Middle India 3. Late 465 – Middle India and the Deccan Tri-functional layout (dwelling + congregation + worship) – Ditto Inner shrine with stupa – Ditto shrine-antechamber 4. 5. Late 465–467 Late 466 6. 468 Exodus II 7. 468 – 8. 9. Bactria & Gandhāra to many different lands including Kucha and Middle India Middle India and the Deccan – Buddha figure, parinirvāṇa theme Exodus III = Spink’s 469–472 ‘recession’ and ‘hiatus’ Middle India to other lands including Kucha Bodhisattvas in Cave 17 Exodus IV Middle and western India to Central Asia, China, Tibet, East Asia, and Sri Lanka (?) Bodhisattva, Avalokiteśvara, avadānas 477 Cf. Spink’s chronology (Pl. 15). Circa 465 333 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 Table 3. Chronology of select rock-cut naoi and pronaoi during “Indian Period II”a a b S.No. Cave Inception of façade / porch Inception of shrine Inception of shrineantechamber 1. Ajanta 11 460 465, quarter 4 – 2. Bagh 4 460 466, quarter 1 – 3. Dharashiva 2 463 466, quarter 2–3 – 4. Pālé 1 3rd–2nd c. 466, quarter 3–4 – 5. Ghaṭotkaca cave 465? 466, quarter 3–4 (relief stupa in the front aisle)b – 6. Bagh 2 461 --------- 466, quarter 4 7. Ajanta 16 461 --------- 467, quarter 1 8. Ajanta 6 Lower 461 --------- 467, quarter 2 9. Ghaṭotkaca cave 465? --------- 467, quarter 3–4 Cf. S14 (xii), (Pl. 15). After S20c (138). Cf. c. ‘469’ : S05 (359). 334 Rajesh Kumar Singh Table 4. Some known donors of the cave temples of Ajanta, Ghaṭotkaca, Bagh, and Pālé Site/cave Main patrons as per inscription(s) / interpretation References Ajanta Cave 4 ‘Māthura…’ C06 (284), Sircar (1959–1960, 26) Ajanta Cave 10 ‘Vāsithīputa,’ ‘Kanhaka,’ and ‘Dharmadeva’ C06 (295–297), B83a (116), Ghosh (1967, 244), Dhavalikar (1968, 149) Merchant ‘Ghanāmadaḍa’ C06 (309), B83a (116) Western Vākāṭaka’s Prime Minister ‘Varāhadeva’ King ‘Dharādhipa’ and his younger brother ‘Ravisāmba’ who died untimely v. 30: C06 (312), M63 (109, 111), B83a (126, 127) Ajanta Cave 12 Ajanta Cave 16 Ajanta Caves 17–20 ‘Upendragupta’ Ajanta Cave 26-Complex Ghaṭotkaca cave Pālé Cave 1 ‘Monk Buddhabhadra’ Western Vākāṭaka’s Prime Minister ‘Varāhadeva’ Phase I (Period I): unknown. Phase II (Period II): Varāhadeva? v. 8–9: M63 (125, 128), S97 (47), cf. C06 (320) Spink (1975, 143 n. 2), W07 (47), W09 (45–48), W17 (416–417) v. 13: C06 (334), Yazdani (IV (1955): 116, 118) v. 18: C06 (339), M63 (117, 119) S21 (30 n. 124) Circa 465 335 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 Table 5. Quantum of Indian rock-cut monuments with and without a naos, up to Period VII Period Caves without sanctum sanctorum Caves with sanctum sanctorum I 1450 50 II 10 60 III 0 14 IV 0 0 V-A 0 6 V-B 0 20 VI 0 200 VII 0 300 1460 650 TOTAL The figures are author’s guesstimate in absence of published data. Table 6. Index to Pls. 5–13 / development of Buddhist naos from Period I.2 to Period V(2) Plates 5–10 Naos type Type S5 Pl. 11 → Architecture LMC2 + variants → type Period Date Region Indian Period I.2–IV Circa 120–480 → Pl. 12 Pl. 13 Next stage → Next stage → Next stage MC4a → MC4b → MC4c Kuchean Periods II–III → Indian Indian → Period V(1) Period V(2) → Circa 533–570 → Circa 466–550 W. India, Middle India, and the → Deccan Kucha → → Aurangabad → Arrow ‘→’ indicates evolution, transformation, or transmission. Circa 550–600 Aparānta & Deccan 336 Rajesh Kumar Singh Table 7. Other sites not covered in Plates 20–22 Name of Site / Monument Ref./Plan G Mostly Pakistan Paṭvano Gaṭai rock shelter - Shah-ji-ki-Dheri - Taxila Bagh Gai K02 (pl. 28) Bhamāla M51 (pl. 114) Chir Tope A and Chir Tope B, Khādeṛ Mohṛā (Akhaurī) M51 (pls. 67–69) Court D at Tareli K02 (pl. 7) Giri M51 (pls. 81–82) Jamāl Gaṛhī K02 (pl. 9) Jaulian M51 (pl. 101), K02 (pl. 5) Jinan Wālī-kī-Ḍherī - Mekhkha Sanda K02 (pl. 8) Mohṛā Morādu M51 (pl. 93) Pippala M51 (pl. 98) Shotorak K02 (pl. 20) Sirkap K02 (pl. 1) Takht-i-Bāhi K02 (pl. 6) B Uzbekistan, Termez Balalyk Tepe - Afghanistan Mes Aynak - Tapa Sardār KH11 (fig. 8) Circa 465 337 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 Name of Site / Monument X /C Ref./Plan T Dandan Oilik # 12, 13 KH11 (fig. 11) Ming-oi near Shorchuk KH11 (fig. 10) Miran A This study was conducted under Senior Fellowship scheme of CCRT, Ministry of Culture, Govt. of India (2019–2021; File # CCRT-SF-3-357-2020). However, the spade work was carried out earlier when I was a Consulting Art Historian with Dharohar, SML, Udaipur (2017–2019). At that time, Prof. Monika Zin (Leipzig University; and Saxon Academy of Sciences in Leipzig) had suggested me to investigate the inner shrines of certain Ajanta caves vis a vis the so-called ‘central pillar caves’ of Kucha. She also suggested me to probe whether the ‘Hephthalites,’ as she put it, had anything to do with the destruction of the Guptas, Vākāṭakas, and abandonment of the Ajanta caves. The outcome of my probe is not something, which she is willing to endorse (personal communication). Nevertheless I would like to thank her for many scholarly exchanges. I would like to thank Ms. Latha Kurien Rajeev who provoked me repeatedly some years back: “Who are those foreigners painted on the ceilings of Ajanta?”. Thanks are also due to Dr. Manuel J. (DSA, Bhophal Circle, Archaeological Survey of India) for stimulating discussions, and to Dr. Rajendra Yadav (SA, Mumbai Circle, ASI) for providing the site plans of the Kondavite and Pāḷé caves. A B81 B97 B78 B83a B82b C06 Dh84 F80 F88 HG F Bhandarkar, et al. (1981) Bakker (1997) Burgess (1878) Burgess (1883a) Burgess (1883b) Cohen (2006) Dhavalikar (1984) Fergusson and Burgess (1880) Fleet (1888) Bakker (2019) R W 338 K02 KH11 M51 M63 N81 SB SBC S12a S12b S18 S20a S20b S20c S21 S65 S97 S05 S06 S07 S09 S14 S17 W05 XQSY Rajesh Kumar Singh Kuwayama (2002) Kim and Han (2011) Marshall (1951, Vol. III) Mirashi (1963) Nagaraju (1981) Sourcebook, Balogh (2020) Sourcebook Companion, Bakker (2020) Singh (2012a) Singh (2012b) Singh (2018) Singh (2020a) Singh (2020b) Singh (2020c) Singh (2021) Sircar (1965) Shastri (1997) Spink (2005) Spink (2006) Spink (2007) Spink (2009) Spink (2014) Spink (2017) Willis (2005) Xinjiang Qiuci Shiku Yanjiusuo (2000) R Archaeological Survey of India. 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Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 PLATES 343 344 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 345 346 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 347 348 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 349 350 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 351 352 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 353 354 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 355 356 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 357 358 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 359 360 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 361 362 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 363 364 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 365 366 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 367 368 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 369 370 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 371 372 Rajesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and The Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 373 MIT, OBRAZ, METAFORA W KULTURACH AZJI I AFRYKI MYTH, IMAGE, METAPHOR IN THE CULTURES OF ASIA AND AFRICA Polskie Towarzystwo Orientalistyczne Wydział Orientalistyczny Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego Fundacja Karaimskie Dziedzictwo MIT, OBRAZ, METAFORA W KULTURACH AZJI I AFRYKI MATERIAŁY VI OGÓLNOPOLSKIEJ KONFERENCJI ORIENTALISTYCZNEJ WARSZAWA, 19–20 KWIETNIA 2021 R. Redakcja naukowa Marek M. Dziekan, Sylwia Filipowska, Ewa Siemieniec-Gołaś Warszawa 2021 Polish Society for Oriental Studies Faculty of Oriental Studies Foundation Karaim Heritage MYTH, IMAGE, METAPHOR IN THE CULTURES OF ASIA AND AFRICA PROCEEDINGS OF THE 6TH ALL-POLISH CONFERENCE OF ORIENTAL STUDIES WARSAW, APRIL 19–20, 2021 Edited by Marek M. Dziekan, Sylwia Filipowska, Ewa Siemieniec-Gołaś Warsaw 2021 Recenzenci / Reviewers Agata Bareja-Starzyńska, Renata Czekalska, Marzenna Czerniak-Drożdżowicz, Sebastian Gadomski, Kamila Junik, Joanna Jurewicz, Lidia Kasarełło, Magdalena Kubarek, Agnieszka Kuczkiewicz-Fraś, Katarzyna Marciniak, Halina Marlewicz, Marek Mejor, Barbara Podolak, Marzanna Pomorska, Małgorzata Religa, Kamila Stanek, Danuta Stasik, Jerzy Tulisow, Grażyna Zając, Estera Żeromska Publikacja zrealizowana w ramach programu „Doskonała Nauka” MEiN UMOWA Nr DNK/SP/465019/2020 Publication financed by the Polish Ministry of Education and Science Opracowanie redakcyjne i korekta Hanna Januszewska Projekt okładki Zofia Lasocka © Copyright by Authors and Dom Wydawniczy Elipsa Warszawa 2021 ISBN 978-83-8017-417-7 Realizacja wydawnicza: Dom Wydawniczy ELIPSA ul. Inflancka 15/198, 00-189 Warszawa tel. 22 635 03 01 e-mail: elipsa@elipsa.pl, www.elipsa.pl SPIS TREŚCI Wstęp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 1. M , , Kamila Hildebrand Wiersz Aš-Šayib (Stary człowiek) Muḥammada Ibn Rāšida Āl Maktūma w świetle teorii metafory pojęciowej wraz z ukazaniem podobieństw leksykalno-semantycznych języka nabaṭī i współczesnej poezji ZEA . . . . . . . 19 Karolina Wanda Olszowska Wpływy chrześcijańskie w twórczości Halide Edip Adıvar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Kamila Stanek Językowy obraz bohatera i bohaterstwa w przysłowiach tureckich . . . . . . . . 51 Teresa Miążek Między mitem, legendą a rzeczywistością w twórczości Agieja – pomosty w strukturze narracji . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 Joanna Gruszewska Metafory nibbany (nibbāna) i sansary (saṃsāra) w Pieśni Sumedhy (Therīgāthā 450–524) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 Pi-Chun Chou Między egzotyzacją a udomowieniem – wyzwania dla polskiego tłumacza klasycznej chińskiej powieści na przykładzie postaci kobiecych w Śnie Czerwonego Pawilonu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Ewa Rynarzewska Mit we współczesnej literaturze koreańskiej: Memil kkot p’il muryŏp (Gdy dojrzewa gryka) Yi Hyo-sŏka (1907–1942) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 Iwona Kordzińska-Nawrocka Obraz kobiecej zazdrości w japońskiej tradycji literackiej . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 6 Spis treści 2. M , , Nihad Fottouh Reminiscences of the myth of Isis in representations of the Egyptian mother: Egyptian President El-Sisi’s supporting remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 Melaike Huseyin Reality behind the Myth and Image of Turkish Women Depicted by the European Orientalists (19th to 20th century) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 Shahla Kazimova Aszykowie – strażnicy duszy narodu. W poszukiwaniu tożsamości aszyków w kontekście kultury azerbejdżańskiej . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Michael Knüppel Aspects of the motive of cannibalism in Northern Eurasia, and their reflections in Uralic, Altaic and “Palaeosiberian” languages . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Blanka Katarzyna Dżugaj Mit na ekranie – nowe oblicza motywów mitologicznych i epickich w kinie indyjskim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Karolina Kłoszewska Motywy mitologiczne w tamilskich pieśniach religijnych na przykładzie kultów bóstw żeńskich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Rayesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and the Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Małgorzata Sobczyk Buddyjska symbolika eschatologiczna w inscenizacji orszaku Amitābhy . . . . 375 Jakub Zamorski „Zen” wraca do Chin – narodowość i nowoczesność we współczesnym chińskim obrazie buddyzmu chan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 393 CONTENTS Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 1. M ,I ,M L Kamila Hildebrand The Poem Aš-Šayib (The Old Man) by Muḥammad Ibn Rāšid Āl Maktūm in the Light of the Theory of Conceptual Metaphor along with Showing the Lexical and Semantic Similarities of the Nabaṭī Language and Contemporary Poetry of the UAE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Karolina Wanda Olszowska Christian Influences in the Works of Halide Edip Adıvar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Kamila Stanek The Linguistic Image of a Hero and a Heroism in Turkish Proverbs . . . . . . 51 Teresa Miążek Between Myth, Legend and Reality in Agyey’s Works – Bridges in the Structure of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 Joanna Gruszewska The Metaphor of Nibbana (Nibbāna) and Sansara (Saṃsāra) in Sumedha Song (Therīgāthā 450–524) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 Pi-Chun-Chou Between Foreignization and Domestication – Challenges for Polish Translator of a Classical Chinese Novel on the Example of Female Characters in The Dream of the Red Chamber . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Ewa Rynarzewska Myth in Contemporary Korean Literature: Memil kkot p’il muryŏp (When the Buckweat Blooms) by Yi Hyo-sŏk (1907–1942) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 Iwona Kordzińska-Nawrocka The Image of Female Jealousy in the Japanese Literary Tradition . . . . . . . . 151 8 Contents 2. M ,I ,M C R Nihad Fottouh Reminiscences of the Myth of Isis in RepresentationS of the Egyptian Mother: Egyptian President El-Sisi’s Supporting Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 Melaike Huseyin Reality behind the Myth and Image of Turkish Women Depicted by the European Orientalists (19th to 20th Century) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 Shahla Kazimova Ashiks – Guardians of the Nation’s soul. In Search of Ashik’s Identity in the Context of Azerbaijani Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Michael Knüppel Aspects of the Motive of Cannibalism in Northern Eurasia, and Their Reflections in Uralic, Altaic and “Palaeosiberian” Languages . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Blanka Katarzyna Dżugaj Myth on the Screen – new Faces of Mythological and Epic Themes in Indian Cinema . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Karolina Kłoszewska Mythological Themes in Tamil Religious Songs on the Example of Worship of Female Deities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Rayesh Kumar Singh Circa 465 and the Stupa-Shrine of the Ajanta Cave 11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Małgorzata Sobczyk Buddhist Eschatological Symbolism in the Staging of Amitābha’s Procession . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375 Jakub Zamorski “Zen” Returns to China – Nation and Modernity in the Contemporary Chinese Image of Chan Buddhism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 393 PREFACE T he book that we present to the Reader is the fruit of the 6th All-Polish Conference of Oriental Studies, “Myth, Image, Metaphor in Cultures of Asia and Africa”, which took place on-line in Warsaw on 19–20 April, 2021. The conference was organised by the Polish Oriental Society in cooperation with the Faculty of Oriental Studies of the University of Warsaw and the Karaim Heritage Foundation. The conference was subsidized by the Ministry of Education and Science within the framework of the “Excellent Science” programme. The conference was another part in a series, but for the first time it was an international one, which is partly reflected in the present volume with several papers by foreign guests. This time, therefore, the conference became a forum for the exchange of ideas between not only representatives of Polish Orientalist centres but also universities from Germany, Italy, Russia, Ukraine, China and Egypt, among the others. As usual, Orientalist conferences are also a meeting place for representatives of different generations of researchers. This year, due to the pandemic, this important element of our annual meetings has become impossible, so this book seems all the more important. This on-line meeting will thus take on a more traditional form – a meeting based on traditional reading, which has retained its permanent – in our opinion – significance all this time. The theme of the conference directed the contributions mainly towards the humanities, although it is also in the area of social sciences that the issues of myth and image are beginning to attract more and more attention of researchers. In this way, this volume reflects a more “traditional” understanding of Oriental studies, focused primarily on literary and cultural issues. However, there are also texts of an inter- or transdisciplinary character which take into account issues of art, religion and film. The research presented in the volume comprises several fields of Oriental studies: Arabic studies, Turkology, Altaic studies, Indology (with its internal 14 Preface differentiation: Sanskritology, Tamil studies, and Hindi culture), Korean studies, Sinology and Japanese studies. The conference-related keywords: myth, image and metaphor, as well as symbol, which does not resonate directly in the conference title, but is closely related to the other items, are extremely capacious and they are analysed by researchers dealing with various aspects of all cultures of the world. The methodology of the humanities which has been developing for centuries in relation to these issues, starting from the most ancient one, which can be regarded as a simple description, through structuralism, postcolonial studies to the so-called “new humanities” or intersectional studies, includes references to the notions mentioned in the conference theme because they constitute the elements shaping the human understanding of the world almost since the dawn of human thought. In each of us, consciously or unconsciously, myths, images and metaphors are embedded in us and they change at the pace at which the world and we ourselves change. They shape our vision of the world – our vision of ourselves and of the “Other”. It is not without reason that I emphasise the issue of the “Other”, who can also be called “Alien”. The study of these “other” and “alien” cultures is, after all, the main task of Oriental studies, no matter how one can understand it. This is what traditional philology and broader humanistic research conducted by Orientalists will be concerned with. The study of foreign cultures builds a certain image which is a sort of a mirror, sometimes a fun-house mirror, in which we can see ourselves and perceive in it the solution to our own problems. The book Myth, Image, Metaphor in the Cultures of Asia and Africa is divided into two parts, Myth, Image, Metaphor in Literature and Myth, Image, Metaphor in Culture and Religion, which feature seventeen texts. The titles of both parts, reflecting their substantive content, rather unintentionally coincide with two of the three leading disciplines among Orientalists working within the field of humanities, according to the classification introduced by the “Constitution for Science”. The authors of the individual studies obviously focus on the specific issues that currently constitute the subject of their research. However, the are bound by the conference keywords, which have proven to be very appealing and pertinent. What is important, the presented analyses clearly indicate that there is no single understanding of either myth or metaphor both from the methodological point of view and in the context of particular field of Oriental studies. Preface 15 Therefore, once again, the opinion known among Orientalists is confirmed – one Orient does not exist. The same remark may be applied to myth – it may simply be an element of some traditional mythological system, it may be a factor that strengthens identity or directly creates it. An image, in turn, may be directly comprehensible but it may also possess the power of myth or symbol and owing to it, it is beyond the reach of the recipients who are not prepared to understand it. Myth can be adopted or transformed, it can also be created, almost here and now, for the purposes of the moment, for example in a political activity. It can be dressed in the garb of modernity, as in a contemporary film. An image can sometimes be viewed and enjoyed for its beauty but sometimes, however, it needs to be transformed, as in artistic translation. But an image can also be linguistic, constituting a non-transferable element of the linguistic image of the world developed over centuries, sometimes millennia, by various cultures and civilisations. Myths, interweaving with symbols and images, may assume the form of rituals, of which – on the other hand – they may be an emanation. They can also be reflected, for example, in cartography. Both myth and images, metaphors and symbols may undergo constant semantic transformations conditioned by the changes in the consciousness of societies and their knowledge about themselves and others. Suppressed and exterminated, sometimes by (e.g. political) force, they may turn out to be stronger than any power and return against it in an externally changed form, but at the same time retaining their proper, original, basic sense. The themes to which we draw attention in the above paragraph are not accidental – these are themes that appear in the individual texts contained in this book. In my opinion, they indicate the richness of the content and encourage one to read, not selectively but comprehensively. Although the topics presented by the authors sometimes seem to be disassociated from one another, the leading theme, however, seems to influence the content to such an extent that we obtain a kind of mosaic which we would like to supplement with subsequent fragments. Undoubtedly, it will never be a complete mosaic. Such a task is impossible. However, a fascinating picture may emerge, which each of the readers will want to complete in his own further research. This is precisely one of the main aims of this book. Marek M. Dziekan Ewa Siemieniec-Gołaś