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Typically, the story told during a theyyam ceremony focuses on a member of the lower castes who infringes on accepted customs and is unjustly punished, usually by death. One famous story, for example, recounts how a Dalit laborer was beheaded by an upper-caste farmer after being caught bathing in the latter’s pond. Appalled at this laborer’s brutal death, the gods deify him and he becomes immortal in the local form of one of the great Hindu gods. This form is then incarnated in the body of dancers like Das. Together with the establishment of a local shrine and cult, the ceremony calms the god’s angry spirit and enacts the justice that was missing in the laborer’s own life. These ceremonies help Dalits voice their complaints against the ruling caste while creating their own canon of heroes and set of rituals. Rather than being simple morality plays, theyyams give Dalit communities a sense of solidarity and self-confidence. Chapter 5 - After a cave retreat, a Tibetan monastery student vowed to become a hermit. Tashi Pasang was born in 1936. Like many Tibetans, Pasang’s family lived in a house during the harsh winters and spent the summers herding yaks in the mountainous pastures above their home. Pasang was 12 when he first accompanied his brothers into the mountains. He enjoyed the family trade, and things began to fall into place; he would also become a yak farmer. This decision displeased his great uncle, a Buddhist monk. Pasang was a bright boy and could already read and write. That made him an ideal candidate for a monastery. Farming, he told Pasang, might bring him worldly wealth, but no one can take riches into the next life. As a monk, though, he’d learn dharma – the eternal law of the universe. Wasn’t that worth more? Pasang agreed it was. The Buddha laid out four things that must be avoided in life – desire, greed, pride, and attachment. These passions bring nothing but strife and misery. Worse, they are illusions. As Pasang’s great uncle had argued, the things that we gain in this world do not last. Even the bodies we inhabit are left behind when we die. This idea was the first, and most important, lesson Pasang learned in his monastery. Of course, letting go of desire, greed, pride, and attachment is difficult. But there were ways to help a young man like Pasang forget about yaks, money, and beautiful women – techniques like meditation and memorizing holy scripture. Isolation was another technique. After three years of instruction, Pasang was sent to a cave in the mountains. His task? To spend four months learning the value of solitude. Pasang performed 4,000 prostrations a day and prayed until hunger and fatigue finally overwhelmed him. After drinking some butter tea and eating a frugal meal, he fell asleep and the cycle repeated itself. Lonely and scared, Pasang’s first weeks in the cave were miserable. After 14 days, though, something changed. Suddenly, he grasped the vanity of pleasures and ambitions. His mind was clear, and he felt his sins being washed away. The hermit’s life had purified him. This, he realized, was true happiness, and he decided to devote himself to a life of quiet devotion. History, however, had other plans. Chapter 6 - Tibetan monks renounced their vows and took up arms to resist the Chinese occupation. In 1912, the Chinese Qing dynasty collapsed, loosening the Chinese state’s hold over its vast empire. Tibet, which had been a protectorate of this empire, suddenly gained its independence. In 1950, after decades of civil war and foreign occupation, the Chinese state – now under Communist control – began to reassert itself in territories like Tibet. Its forces quickly overwhelmed Tibet’s small army. Within a year, Tibet had been reoccupied. At first, Pasang barely noticed the Chinese presence in his home country. Soon, though, rumors began to spread that China wanted to destroy Buddhism. In 1954, there were stories of terrible massacres in monasteries. Slowly, monks like Pasang began talking about resistance. Non-violence is at the heart of Buddhism, so Pasang’s decision to fight and potentially kill other humans was not taken lightly. True, there are some exceptions to this principle in Buddhist scripture. Violence is permitted if it prevents an even greater sin, such as the destruction of the faith. This is a form of sacrifice, though: the person who commits violence, however, justified, takes the bad karma that flows from this act upon himself. The Tibetan resistance was poorly armed and organized, and the Chinese army quickly crushed groups like the one Pasang joined. He fled to India and joined other Tibetans in Dharamsala, the capital-in-exile of the country’s leader, the Dalai Lama. In 1962, China and India came to blows over a disputed border region. Previously neutral toward China, the Indian government changed course. Anticipating further clashes on the Indian-Chinese border, India recruited Tibetans like Pasang into a special mountain warfare unit. They were promised the opportunity to lead the liberation of Tibet. This promise was never fulfilled. In 1971, India intervened in East Pakistan – today’s Bangladesh – to support the local independence movement. Pasang’s mountain unit was deployed alongside the Indian army to aid Bangladeshi fighters. For India, this war was a great victory. For Pasang, it was a total defeat. He had shot and killed men for no good reason – Pakistani forces, after all, weren’t a threat to Buddhism. In his heart, he knew he had committed a terrible sin. As a volunteer, Pasang couldn’t leave the Indian army until 1986. He returned to Dharamsala and devoted the rest of his life to atoning for his sins. Chapter 7 - Bauls’ esoteric creed draws on ancient Indian religious traditions. Once a year in mid-January, thousands of wiry men with tousled hair, long beards, and bright, saffron-colored robes gather on the floodplains lining the Ajoy river in West Bengal. There, they build a huge, makeshift campsite. They light bonfires, smoke marijuana, exchange gossip, and greet old friends. When night falls, they gather around the fires and begin dancing and singing. These men are known as Bauls, meaning “madmen” in Bengali. For over 500 years, these wandering minstrels have traveled northeastern India’s roads, stopping only to perform their songs. Bauls aren’t just musicians, though – their art is a means of teaching an esoteric spiritual philosophy. Bauls are the guardians of a body of knowledge that stretches from meditations on breathing techniques to sexuality, mysticism, philosophy, and asceticism. At the root of their creed, though, is a belief that defies conventional religion. God, Bauls believe, does not dwell in bronze or stone idols. Nor will you find him – or her – in the heavens or the afterlife. No, God can only be found in the bodies of the men and women who seek truth in the here and now. Provided you are willing to give up your worldly possessions, take to the road, and follow the path of love, you will find god. The Bauls’ doctrine melds influences from India’s many different religious traditions. On their journeys, Bauls stop to pray in temples and mosques. They worship Hindu deities like Krishna and draw on the wisdom contained in texts revered by Buddhists and Muslim ascetics known as Sufis. As they see it, no single creed can hope to exhaust the truth of God. They all, however, contain valuable clues and signposts that can guide the attentive toward Moner Manush – the form of enlightenment known to those who have learned to love God from their own heart. What kind of god is this god? Bauls do not believe there is a final answer to this question. In this regard, they draw on ancient humanist traditions in India. Take the Rigveda, a collection of Sanskrit hymns composed over 3,000 years ago. Like the Bauls, this text leaves questions about the origin of the universe open. Maybe, it states, the world created itself, but maybe it didn’t. Only god, it adds, knows – but, then again, “perhaps he does not know.” Chapter 8 - A life scarred by tragedy led a blind boy to join the Bauls. How do you join the Bauls? The author met one of these wandering minstrels, a blind man called Kanai Das Baul, to find out. Kainai lost his sight when he was just six months old. His early years were filled with tragedy. When he was ten, his brother was killed by a falling ox cart. His father died a year later, the victim of an asthma attack. That left Kanai, his mother, and his sister. Unable to work as a farmer, the teenage Kanai became a beggar. His neighbors were kind, giving him enough food to support the family. But they refused his requests to provide a groom for his sister. They knew he couldn’t provide a dowry and believed the family was cursed by evil luck. In despair, his sister died by suicide when Kanai was 15. It was too much. Shattered by grief, he took to the road. A passing Baul had heard ten-year-old Kanai singing as he bathed in the village pond. The child had a high, sad voice – the kind of voice that lends itself to the Bauls’ songs. He had asked the family to allow Kanai to become his pupil. A blind man, he argued, cannot farm, but he can earn money as a singer.