Sudhana and Manohara A story of love, loss and redemption at Candi Borobudur

Sudhana and Manohara - A story of love, loss and redemption at Candi Borobudur

Cecelia Levin

The legend of a mortal hero who falls in love with an ethereal being is a universal theme that has served as an inspirational source for creativity in a variety of art forms: the story of the Nymph of the Luo River was recalled in a scroll painting attributed to the fourth-century artist Gu Kaizhi; the Slavic Rusalka was recounted in Pushkinís poetry and re-enacted in the opera by Anton·n Dvo|rΩak, and the Scottish sylphís story was enlivened in the dances of La Sylphide. These all tell of doomed romance and the tragic inability of man and the supernatural to forge an ongoing amorous partnership. Unlike its counterparts in other world cultures, the Buddhist story of Prince Sudhana and the kinnar∂ princess Manoharå is perhaps the sole example of a successful ìintermarriageî, for this tale concludes in a joyous ending with their reunion after a series of trials and tribulations. While this story has been told in a diversity of texts, languages, and variants, perhaps its best-known version was committed to stone ó found on the relief panels of the First Terrace of Candi Borobudur in Central Java.

One may wonder, what was the appeal of this fable about love found, then lost, and then found again? It might also be difficult to fathom how this love story expressing sentiments somewhat incongruent with the ethos of Buddhism made its way into an amalgam of Buddhist parables. Even more puzzling is why this saga of paternal and bråhmaƒic betrayal, of magical incantations and accoutrements, and of a treacherous journey and challenging feats gained its great prominence among the narratives at CaƒŒi Borobudur, and how can it possibly bring further light to the meaning of the great monument?

The legend of Sudhana and Manoharå spans the first twenty relief panels of the 120 narrative carvings embellishing the Main Wall of the First Terrace. Here a bifurcated narrative program encircles the monument ó the upper band conveys the Lalitavistara; below an assemblage of narratives all linked to avadåna stories unfolds. The initial connection between the visual narrations depicted in the lower series and Buddhist parables was made by Serge Oldenburg in 1895, who claimed that the third panel through the twentieth could be specifically linked to the Sudhanakumåråvadåna, the 30th story of the Divyåvadåna assemblage. In this particular recension, dated between the third to the mid-fourth century CE and linked to the Mµulasarvåstivådin Buddhists of northwest India, the Buddha relates the story to a king in order to demonstrate his charities, deeds, and the fulfillment of the v∂rya-påramitå in a former lifetime.

More than a half century later, the well-explored analysis of this theme and its related visual narratives at Candi Borobudur was undertaken by P.S. Jaini, who focused on the variations of Buddhist texts that incorporate the Sudhana and Manoharå legend and their linkage with particular Buddhist affiliations. He brought to light the Kinnar∂-jåtaka, incorporated into the Mahåvastu and associated with the Mahåså∆ghika School, and a vinaya text known as the Bhai¶ajya-vastu that coalesced into the version incorporated in the Divyåvadåna. Jaini additionally noted a third Sanskrit redaction, the Avadåna-kalpalatå, as well as a version in the Khotanese (Saka) language and various Chinese and Tibetan translations. Within the Påli tradition, he cited both Sudhanukumåra-jåtaka in the Burmese Zimmé Paƒƒesa- and the Sudhana-jåtaka in the Pa¤¤åsa-jåtaka, the latter also a compilation of Southeast Asian origin. Further, Jaini recognized that

numerous examples could be found in Burmese and Thai performing and poetic art traditions (Jaini 1966:533-34). In his thorough evaluation of the episodic material depicted in the visual narratives on Candi Borobudur he determined that none of the textual versions that he uncovered corresponded to the telling of this romance as sculpted in stone. However he was able to recognize strong affinities with the Sudhanakumåråvadåna of the Divyåvadåna, with the inclusion of particular details that could only be found in the Påli recensions of the story (Jaini 1966:558). Similarly, he observed that while not all the episodes enumerated in the Påli version are pictorially realized in the version of the story featured on Candi Borobudur, not one of the visual narratives can be regarded to be in disagreement (Jaini 1966:555).

That the visual narratives sculpted on the sacred monuments of classical Java have no specific literary ìarchetypeî, and that threads of episodic material and details are extant between these panels and later Southeast Asian narrations, come as no surprise to art historians who work with this extraordinarily rich narrative tradition. For this reason they have sought to understand the pictorial language and practices conceived by narrative artists of South and Southeast Asia and employed to make these stories both comprehensible and evocative for their viewers. For this reason scholars of visual narration now work with an arsenal of diverse methods in order to interpret the intent of those created centuries before us and recognize that no detail should go unnoticed. This is perhaps best underscored in the remarks of Jan Fontein, who wrote:

ìA systematic comparison of Indian illustrations of episodes from the epics, sµutras, jåtakas or moralizing tales of the Pa¤catantra type with illustrations of episodes of the same stories in Thai, Cambodian or Indonesian art may sometimes help us to determine to what extent Indian iconographic prototypes and Indian narrative techniques played a role in the shaping of Southeast Asian artistic conventions. Also, by studying the selection of topics or episodes that were deemed worthy of visual representation in different countries and reviewing the creative solutions to problems of illustration, devised by artists in different cultures, we can gradually begin to decipher the artistic vocabulary of the sculptors and painters in each country.î (Fontein 2000:2)

Now almost another half-a-century has passed since Jainiís significant contribution to the theme of Sudhana and Manoharå. In light of a new generation of Sanskritists who have turned their attention to the Divyåvadåna and undertaken new translations of its stories, it now seems an opportune time to perform pradak¶iƒå once more past these twenty exquisitely-carved relief panels at Candi Borobudur.

The first four panels parallel the story as told by the Divyåvadåna, a fact that was unfortunately missed by Oldenburg, and details events that actually precede the birth of the Prince of Håstinapura, when a Buddha-to-be descends into the womb of King Dhanaís queen. The first and second relief panels recreate the contrast between the kingdoms of North and South Pa¤cåla, thereby setting the stage for the subsequent events of the story. In the first King Dhana of North Pa¤cåla enjoys the prosperity that is the result of his practice of dharma and the protective efforts of the serpent Janmacitraka. This is succeeded by a depiction of the ruler of South Pa¤cålaís foray around his kingdom, where he witnesses its barrenness. The foiled plot of the magician to capture Janmacitraka and the rewarding of the hunter Phålaka (Halaka) at the Någasí court unfolds next.

The sculptors of the reliefs Candi Borobudur skip over the details of Sudhanaís birth and upbringing, instead bringing the viewer next to a scene of Phålaka at the Brahma-sabhå, the lotus pool where a sage has told him he will be able to witness an extraordinary phenomenon ó the bathing of Manoharå, the daughter of the kinnar∂ king Druma. It is here that she comes to bathe on the night of the full moon in the company of 500 kinnar∂ maidens. In the Divyåvadåna the hunter captures Manoharå by means of the amoghapå‹a (ìInfallible Nooseî).5 This magic object was not visible in the prior relief. Moreover, the depiction of an empty-handed Phålaka and sage in seated postures of relative relaxation with a statuesque and static Manoharå standing in their vicinity suggests that the visual narration of this episode is in concordance with either the Mahåvastu or a Påli variant. In these recensions Phålaka was advised that the kinnar∂ princess could only be caught by satyavåkyena, or ìstatements of truthî. She stands with her left hand extended and her right hand on her jeweled girdle, suggesting the moment when she tells Phålaka that she cannot flee, and as proof

5 In the few episodes of the Sudhana and Manoharå story that were painted in Cave 1 at Ajanta, the ìInfallible Nooseî is clearly hanging at the front of the palace entrance. Its placement is specifically described in the Divyåvadåna (Tatelman 2005:234-235). In this variation, the hunter returns to demand the magic weapon as he is advised by a hermit sage that it is much more valuable than any of the jewels initially awarded him by the Någa king for the saving of Janmacitraka.

6 The term cuŒamaƒi is considered synonymous with ìpubic plaqueî in Central Javanese culture. It is possible that Manoharå touches her girdle to refer to her cuŒamaƒi underneath.

she will relinquish her cµuŒamaƒi, the ornament that enables her to fly through the air.6 While the next episode may be interpreted as the action of Phålaka giving Manoharå to Sudhana, it is much more about the reaction of Sudhana when he first sees the kinnar∂ princess. On the left hand of the composition everything seems frozen in time as the couple gaze upon one another. The princeís retinue remains still as Phålaka and his companions are separated from this initial meeting, placed at the opposite side of the composition. In the words of the Divyåvadåna, the initial mutual sighting of these two lovers brings to mind the drinking of the love potion from Tristan und Isolde:

At that moment, Sudhana was shot through the heart by the arrow of desire, that passionate desire which is like a moth in a flame; which, having the nature of a spotless, luminous moon trembling in water, is exceedingly difficult to grasp; which, like a sea monster among the billows in a torrent, is hard to catch: which moves with the windís or a GaruŒaís speed; which, being exceedingly light, whirls about like a cotton tuft; which leaps about, always in motion, like a monkey; which ever seeks the flavor of passionís happiness, which feeds the impurities; which, entirely absorbing all thought, is careless of that rough and dangerous precipice that leads to all those impurities ó which, with the supremely mysterious sound that is the yearning for union, is loosed form the bow of false understanding. And so it is said,

As when, in the rainy season lightning issues forth From a cloud,

When he beheld her whose face was as lovely as the moon, Sudhana,

With affection, love and amorous feelings towards her spring up,

At once was pierced through the heart by passionís arrow. (Tatelman 2005:252-255)

In this scene Manoharå appears to hold her left hand with the tip of her thumb against the tip of her index finger; Sudhana reacts with the varada-hasta. The kinnar∂ princessís gesture may have its roots in her progenitor depicted in Cave 1 at Ajanta. Several episodes related to the re-unification of Sudhana and Manoharå are depicted on the back wall above the side door in left corner of this cave. One scene centers on an image of Manoharå in conversation with a female attendant. She touches her thumb to her forefinger while extending her little finger. This gesture is simultaneously employed by Sudhana, who waits at the palaceís gateway where Manoharå has hidden him from her father.

Dieter Schlingloff has identified this hasta from other Indian narratives of loving couples and determined that in this Ajanta narrative it signified Manoharåís and Sudhanaís proclamation of their love for each other (Schlingloff 1988:77). Manoharåís comparable gesture at Candi Borobudur may express this same sentiment, and further clarify some of the other imagery, such as the circular container held by a member of Sudhanaís entourage seated directly to the princeís immediate right. It is very possible that inside is the princessís cµuŒamaƒi, which has now been transferred to Sudhana as a demonstration of her love. Meanwhile, the princeís gesture acknowledges receipt.

The subsequent seventh through tenth episodes, as identified by Krom, recount the purohita encouraging King Dhana to send the prince out on an expedition. Since Manoharå has been brought to court, the prince has given her all of his attention and he has been neglectful of his royal duties. This is followed by a narrative of Sudhana taking leave of his mother and handing over Manoharåís cµuŒamaƒi to her care. Sudhana is then shown forming an alliance with the På∆cika yak¶as as he begins his military activities. During Sudhanaís absence the King has had a series of inauspicious dreams, and he is then shown as heeding to the counsel of the purohita who prescribed the fat of a kinnar∂ to ensure the well being of King Dhana and the Kingdom of North Pa¤cåla (Krom 1927: 254-256). Perhaps one of the most admired images from Candi Borobudur is the following scene of Manoharåís escape. Both the Avadåna-kalpalatå and the Khotanese specifically mentions that she took flight into the sky. The Påli version describes the guards of the Palace in hot pursuit of the absconding princess. However, at CaƒŒi Borobudur they appear rather lackadaisical, and their demeanor may relate a greater correspondence to the Divyåvadånaís recounting of this episode. Here King Dhana becomes alarmed by Manoharåís escape, but he is assured by the purohita that they have achieved their purpose and the king is now ìcleansed of all evilî (Tatelman 2005:270-271).

The words of Manoharå as she flees the palace may be even more revealing than the details of her escape. In the Divyåvadåna she cries: Intimacy and close union, laughter and pleasure, have been mine; Now, like an elephant freed from her bonds,

I am gone!

Manoharåís acknowledgement of her experience with human love ó a common leitmotif among stories of supernatural females who consort with mortal men ó is an odd remark to make when fleeing for oneís life. It resonates, however, with the only extant parallel of a Central Javanese romance ó that of Råma and S∂tå in the Råmåyaƒa Kakawin. In this epic one also is told of a princess involuntarily separated from her beloved, a forlorn prince in search of his missing wife, archery contests, simian helpers, and a ring that foretells the reunification of lovers. In the Kakawin, S∂tå reflects on the absence of her fulfilling love life when she pens a message to Råma that will be delivered by Hanumån. In a passage that has no counterparts in the Indian versions of the epic, she writes:

And please remember the time when you were young, when you were married to me by my father and our happiness together. We have enjoyed everything there is to enjoy completely. In amorous play you were skillful and you were versed in the contents of the best handbooks of love. (RK XI.27; Santoso 1980:296) After the depiction of Manoharåís flight from the palace, Sudhana is shown returning to Håstinapura and presenting his father with the tribute of the subdued rebels. The subsequent 13th panel reveals Sudhanaís confrontation with his mother as he learns of the plight and disappearance of Manoharå. In the comparable event in the Divyåvadåna, the prince and the queen have a dramatic exchange, and he repeats his lament twice, possibly as a means to underscore his grief: I cannot find Mano-hara, who is endowed with all the virtues my heart desires

As well as with the most exquisite beauty. Where has my Mano-hara gone?

My mind, searching for her everywhere, is bewildered, stupefied,

And my heart burns painfully because I am bereft of her. (Tatelman 2005:276-279)

This meeting between royal parent and offspring is now mirrored in the next relief of the series that relates Manoharåís return to her homeland and her telling of her experiences among the world of men to King Druma. Sudhana is then shown consulting with the sage to learn the whereabouts of his beloved. The handing over of the ring which Manoharå leaves with the sage is not shown in this episode. Also not portrayed is the arduous and exotic journey that Sudhana endeavors to find Manoharå, one that in Tatelmanís view is ìa film version of which would tax the special-effects technologies of even the wealthiest modern studios.î (Tatelman 2005:21). The absence of Sudhanaís travels is somewhat difficult to explain, particularly since in the Divyåvadåna it is recounted twice; first by Manoharå to the sage and then, in a somewhat redundant manner, by the sage to Sudhana. The omission is stranger still for the sculptors of Candi Borobudur who were clearly skilled in the depiction of imaginative locations and details, as evidenced later on in the adventures of Maitrakanyaka.

It may therefore be proposed that in addition to the sculptors modifying episodes for narrative efficiency or to emphasize the virtues that these parables embodied, they were also compelled to delineate human emotions. The episodic material depicted in this mid-section of the story at Candi Borobudur clearly clusters around the sentiments of lost love, separation and longing; these sentiments stand at the core of the Classical Javanese poetic tradition. This emphasis continues to evolve in the next scene of this story that now cuts directly to the discovery of Manoharå and the placing of the signet ring in a jar of water that is being prepared for her bath. As the Divyåvadåna relates:

That city, not far off, surrounded by lovely parks and gardens,

With many kinds of flowers and fruit, frequented by various species of birds,

Provided with ponds and tanks and filled with kinnaris.

And there Súdhana saw some kinnaris who had come to draw water. (Tatelman 2005:296-297)

The sculptors have clearly captured a very specific moment in the story ó three kinnar∂ maidens on the left of an evocatively detailed lotus pond stand prepared to pour water over Manoharå so that she might cleanse herself of the ìstinkî of human contact. Three more kinnar∂s to the right of the pond proceed in its direction with water jugs in their arms, while a seventh is delayed by Sudhana. She sits in obeisance as he drops the ring in the water. This pictorial closely parallels the Divyåvadåna at this juncture of the story, for when Sudhana inquires about the procedure for Manoharåís bath, specifically whether the jars of water are to be poured over her simultaneously or one at a time. It appears that the sculptors have tried to simulate the response of the kinnar∂ ó that the maidens will pour the water one by one ó through processional nature of the waterbearing attendants. Upon learning this information, Sudhana requests that the ringbearing kinnar∂ be the first to bathe Manoharå (Fig.1).

One more aspect of this episode may now be revealed. Krom identified this scene as having a

Fig.1: Bas-relief 16, first terrace wall. Adapted from Krom and Van Erp (1920).

lotus pond that was possibly removed in its location from the area of the palace and the ìkinnaracityî; the edifice on the left was only an indication that a palace was nearby (Krom 1923:258). This building is as resplendent as the depiction of the palace that the princess flees in Håstinapura, yet its details ó such as the multiplicity of stµupikås and ascending central staircase ó suggest that it is depiction of a Javanese candi, or religious shrine. Considering the purifying nature of Manoharåís bath, as well as the integral and sacred relationship between caƒŒis, padmasamµuhas and t∂rthas in Classical Java, it can be understood why Candi Borobudurís sculptors chose spiritual environs as the backdrop for this significant episode. Moreover, a close scrutiny of the relief panel alludes to the inclusion of another figure directly to the left of padmasamµuha, for the depiction of an arm extending into the water cannot possibly belong to the most adjacent water-bearing kinnar∂. This maidenís left arm supports the pitcher on top of her head, and even a talented contortionist could not convolute herself into the position that this figureís torso takes in relation to its head. This extra appendage holds a long, cylindrical object that appears to be placed, or removed, in the pond. It is therefore possible that long before the vicissitudes of time wore away this section of the relief panel, Manoharå once stood primed to enter her purifying bath.

The most significant components of this highpoint of the drama ó the finding of Manoharå, the hiding of the ring and its anticipated discovery by the storyís heroine ó have all been encapsulated into this one panel. This interpretation resonates with the depiction of these events in the paintings of Cave 1 at Ajanta where the artists delineated these same episodic details with equal weight. At Candi Borobudur Sudhana now undertakes two challenges at the request of King Druma to prove his worthiness to be Manoharåís husband. In the first he is portrayed accomplishing an archery contest. The second trial depicted in the 18th relief of the series has led to diverse interpretations, and the complexities of the literary parallels only fuel this inconclusiveness (Fig. 2). The narrative at Candi Borobudur relates Sudhanaís attempt to identify his beloved Manoharå amid a group of

Fig. 2: Bas-relief 18, first terrace wall. Adapted from Krom and Van Erp (1920).

kinnar∂s. To the right of the composition an enthroned Druma and his queen, surrounded by attendants, oversee the test; on the left a group of seven kinnar∂s sit in a traditional Javanese pendopo, an open-air audience hall. These two compositional groupings frame a central character ó a regal personage haloed by a nimbus that has alternatively been identified as Sudhana, or the god ›akra (Påli: Sakka). The inclusion of a nimbus is an inconsistent iconographic trait at Candi Borobudur. Moreover, it has been recognized that the interpretation of a single character may vary in differing portrayals on this monument. Therefore ìlooks can often be deceivingî and items of apparel and adornment ó both worldly and divine ó have proven to be unreliable indicators of status or identity among CaƒŒi Borobudurís narrative sequences.

In regards to the written versions of this episode, the Divyåvadåna refers to a thousand kinnar∂s in this test of recognition; Sudhana recites a verse that compels Manoharå to step forward. The Påli version specifically denotes only seven kinnar∂ maidens (sattaka∆∆åyo) ó the same number that appears in this episode at Candi Borobudur as well as in the scene of the Sudhanaís planting of the ring in Manoharåís bathing water. Delving further into the Påli recension in the hope of finding other commonalities one learns that ›akra (Sakka) performed a greater role in these variations of the story; this trait continues in the later Thai and Burmese traditions as well. In the Sudhana-jåtaka, Sakka intervenes and creates a golden fly that will hover around Manoharåís head so she can easily be picked out by the prince. In Jainiís study of this tale of lovers, he cites a later Burmese play in which each of the seven kinnar∂s puts a finger through a screen and Sudhana must then find Manoharå by identifying her finger. After he prays for a sign, a bee settles on Manoharåís finger (Jaini 1966:556-557). At Candi Borobudur the seven kinnar∂s have both hands in sight, therefore the sculptors were not following a forerunner of this Burmese ìfinger testî. Confirming the identity of the central, halo-framed character appears to be essential for understanding this sculptural narrative in its entirety. Irrespective of the unpredictability of iconographic details and the inconsistency of character depiction at Candi Borobudur, this tall and long-limbed figure has strong affinities with the portrayal of the major deities featured in the GaƒŒavyµuha in the terraces above. It shares their elongated bodies and fluid, dance-like postures. When comparing this image to one of ›akra in this same avadåna series on the First Terrace Wall, similarities are even more evident. In the 49th relief of the series, ›akra appears in the story of Måndhåtara, the overly ambitious king who will fall to earth and meet his demise. ›akra is on the left of the composition. His downward glance suggests that he has decided how to resolve the problem with his would-be competitor, or perhaps has just accomplished the task. He extends his right hand in the varada-hasta while standing with the left leg bent and the heel raised. The ball of his foot presses into the ground. The figure in the second test of Sudhana is in the same sthåna, albeit in reverse. It may therefore be determined that the posture and gesture of this god serve as identifiers and in this instance ›akra demonstrates the varada-hasta to bestow his assistance upon Sudhana in this tricky task.

Identifying this long-bodied figure as the god ›akra does not indicate that Sudhana is absent from the scene, for he is a vital ingredient for the successful narration of this episode. He may be found to the extreme left, behind the pendopo. The fact that he identifies his beloved from behind, without the need of a facial recognition, suggests that he is indeed selecting Manoharå by means of a sign given by ›akra, perhaps by the appearance of the golden fly. This new interpretation of this episode now adds another concordance between the version told at Candi Borobudur and a Påli variant of the story.

The final two scenes depict the celebration at the court of Druma, with a solo dancer that has captivated and intrigued dance scholars and art historians alike for over a century, Having once again feeling the pangs and torment of separation ó this time the result of his absence from his parents ó the narrative sculptural series culminates with the return of Sudhana and Manoharå to Håstinapura, where he appears before his father. Sudhana recounts his adventures in the land of the kinnar∂s, enabling his father to recognize his sonís power and heroic strength. Sudhana is then consecrated as king. At Candi Borobudur his benevolence is implied by this final view of Manoharå and Suddhana distributing gifts to a group of mendicants and Håstinapura subjects.

Despite revised readings of several of the pictorial representations of the Sudhana and Manoharå legend at Candi Borobudur, one still cannot explain why this romantic tale of a worldly prince whose great love for a kinnar∂ ó one that led to his shunning of his royal responsibilities and his potential political downfall ó was so strongly accented in the monumentís narrative program. Nor does the Wagnerian theme of redemption through love appear to resonate with codes of Buddhist morality. The avadåna stories, however, are much more eclectic than traditionally perceived. In the instance of the Divyåvadåna, which may represent a compilation of narrative material dating as early as the beginning of the Common Era, stories may be traced to ordination traditions, sµutra variants, classical kåvyas as well as the Mµulasarvåstivådin Buddhist legacy (Tatelman 2005:18-19). The nature of the Sudhana and Manoharå legend suggests that it was originally a localized romance that was incorporated into a Buddhist environment.

They may also be perceived as eclectic in their mission. The Divyåvdånas, as Andy Rotman has written, ì... contain and embody rules and practices that are integral to a Buddhist identity; in fact they are an amalgam of rules, etiological accounts, and foretellings that function as a complex and interlinking moral codeî (Rotman 2008:2). While acknowledging their primary didactic function, he soundly states that ì... along the way to their ultimate lessons they create diverse moral worlds, showing different ways of thinking and being, and portray characters interacting and commenting on their engagements with these worldsî (Rotman 2008:3). Therefore it is not just the moral values of Buddhism that are imbued in Sudhanaís story, but his resolutions to challenges and qualities such as perseverance, devotion, and heroism that are also lessons to be learned.

These significances are underscored in the textual versions of the story. In the beginning of the Sudhanakumåradivyåvadåna, the Buddha narrates this tale to a king to demonstrate how he, in an existence as Prince Sudhana prior to his attainment of ìPerfect Awakeningî, undertook donations, meritorious deeds, and fulfilled the ìPerfection of Energyî (Tatelman 2005:221). He tells the king, ìAs for my demonstrating might, manliness and heroism on account of Mano-hara and for twelve years unstintingly carrying out sacrificial rituals ó at that time I had not attained unexcelled, Supreme Perfect Awakening, but rather that liberality and energy were no more than causes, bases and prerequisites of unexcelled Supreme, Perfect Awakening.î(Tatelman 2005:306-307)

V∂rya and dharma were not only desirable, but also attainable goals for the royal devotees of Candi Borobudur. These qualities, embodied in the story of Sudhana and Manoharå, may not ensure the immediate achievement of ìPerfect Awakeningî, but righteous behavior, fervent devotion and the fulfillment of obligation lead one further along this path. This legend of two lovers, recounted at Candi Borobudur through a myriad of courtly audiences and rituals, interactions between rulers and royal progeny, the making of both political alliances and enemies, and receiving guidance from spiritual leaders as well as the divine, join other avadånas of the First Terrace Wall that also relate the parables of kings and personages of high-ranking status. Similar to those stories illustrated in Cave 1 at Ajanta, it may be perceived that these too were specifically intended to reverberate with the royal patrons of this great sacred monument.

This legendís happy ending within the Buddhist tradition can now be comprehended. Romance and love is universal ó a welcome aspect of the human condition. As one ascends above Candi Borobudurís Kåmadhåtu, the story of Sudhana and Manoharå serves both as an architechtonic and narrative segue from worldly experiences to the positive qualities that can be learned and achieved through romantic love ó devotion, perseverance, courage, heroism and redemption after errors of behavior. The First Terrace is devoted to those still tied to the relationships and emotional responses that define humanity. Here they are inspired to the greater release epitomized by the Lalitavistara directly above ó the story of the Buddhaís life through his First Sermon and the inauguration of his teachings. There is one other dimension of this tale that resonates with Javanese of Candi Borobudurís epoch. While, the theme of romantic love explodes with human

emotionality and creative possibilities, the loss of love through separation and unresolved longing are themes that were much explored by the Javanese kawis ó the poets of Classical Javañ for their emotive qualities. These ideals became expressed in the aesthetic of langö, which equally means the rapture of love as well as its absence and longing (Zoetmulder 1982:976). The seeds of this cultural paradigm are inherent in the enhanced lamentations of S∂ta and Råma during their separation in the Råmåyaƒa Kakawin. Similarly, the magnified passages of the Divyåvadåna related to Manoharåís absence and

Sudhanaís longing ó suggested pictorially by the sculptorsí episodic emphases at Candi Borobudur ó are incipient expressions of Langö. They are forerunners of the aesthetic cult that experienced efflorescence in the poetic and visual arts of the subsequent Eastern Javanese period.

Among the treasures in the Museum Nasional in Jakarta is a Central Javanese ring with an inscription reading ìSudhanaî. In the spirit of another Javanese cultural phenomenonó a love of multivalence ó one would like to believe that the original owner of this sacred object selected it for inspiration and in honor of both Sudhanas featured at Candi Borobudur. Its wearer endeavored to practice heroic valor, determination, and generosity, and then strove onwards to become imbued with the teachings of the kalyåƒamitras and divine beings in the more spiritual realms above.

Literature cited

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2000 ëSculpture, text and tradition at Borobudur: a reconsiderationí, in Marijke Klokke (ed.), Narrative sculpture and literary traditions in Central, South and Southeast Asia. [Studies in Asian Art and Archeology vol. 23] Leiden: Brill, pp.1-18.

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