My Mother's Research among the Tibetans and Lha Mo Theater.

In 1964 my mother, Jeanette Snyder, then a graduate student in Tibetan Studies at the University of Washington, received a Fulbright Grant to study Tibetan theater in India, Nepal, and Sikkim, countries that had welcomed the flow of Tibetan exiles after the 1959 uprising. As a child, awaiting her return in the States, I loved her letters so full of fabulous descriptions of India and heroic, non–motherly sorts of adventures. During one of her  visits, I asked her if she would recount for the blog her early experiences seeing Lha mo, the Tibetan opera she had come to study. What a pleasure it was to venture together into the basement, unpack the boxes of notes, field drawings, and photographs and listen to her recall her exhilaration at that first performance. While she took quite a few photographs. all I have of her at that event is this undeveloped image of at the far left, her turned away face, chin resting in her hand, and the sweep of her braid. I can tell she is smiling. — Midori Snyder

 

   " I sat in Glenary's Tea Room, dawn just breaking, wolfing down my substantial English breakfast in preparation for the day long event to come. Outside the window the trickle of Tibetans dressed in their best, carrying aluminum teapots filled with chang (beer), packets of snacks and lunch, cushions, umbrellas, babies on their back, toddlers in hand, and the occasional little dog tucked into the chest fold of a robe, had increased to a steady flow moving up along the high street beneath my window. I gulped down the last of my tea and grabbed my camera and tape recorder, eager to join the excited throng headed in the direction of the Darjeeling Tibetan School grounds.

The Himalayan Range was bright in the distance and the day promised to be fair. It was spring 1964 in Darjeeling, India, and I was on my way to experience my first live performance of A lce Lhamo or lha mo. The name Lhamo is most commonly explained by Tibetans to have originated from the portrayal by actors of the many female roles of goddesses or "Lhamo" that are found in the plays. A lie means "elder sister."

Lhamo is the classical secular theater of Tibet, the nearest Western equivalent of which is opera. The plays, drawn from Tibetan literature and developed within the matrix of Tibetan world views, present moving dramas of human concern, characters, and relationships. A play performed in its entirety lasts a full day. It is played in the round, with a rich assortment of masks, costumes, properties and fluid staging. In acting out the story, the members of the Lhamo troupe employ a variety of musical elements: sung dialogue, chanted narration, drum–and–cymbal pieces, and occasional interludes of traditional songs. Satire, comic improvisation, stylized movement and dancing round out the performance.

Norbu Tsering, Lhamo director and teacher

From the many Lhamo troupes in Tibet, ten were selected to perform in the yearly national public drama festival in Lhasa, a practice discontinued after the 1959 Tibetan uprising. Now, I was about to see four days of Lhamo presented by an exile troupe largely made up of players from one of the drama festival ten, the Skyor Molung, who hailed from Lhasa. I was particularly excited about seeing the famous and popular Skyor Mo lung actor I had heard so much about from my Tibetan friends, Norbu Tsering, or "Lapa" as he was popularly known. He had recently escaped from a Chinese labor camp near Lhasa and had made his way to Kalimpong, India, where he became director and teacher of this new exile company set up by local opera fans.

As I reached the top of the hill above the Tibetan school, I stepped aside to allow two young theater goers on their mountain ponies access to the trail that led down to the school grounds and the huge canopied Tibetan tent erected there. I spotted my Lama friend whom I was to meet here, speaking to an elderly Tibetan man leaning against the fence watching the passing crowd. Lama J. was trying to convince the man to accept a ticket and come down to the performance. The man refused, saying it was more interesting to watch from the hill where he could hear and see everything that went on both inside and outside the tent. And for four days and four plays he would faithfully occupy what he saw as the "best seat in the house."

Lhamo Theater tents

As we made our way down the hill towards the canopied tent, I could see activity in a small tent at the side, which I found served as green room and dressing room. Players partially dressed in their costumes for the ritual introductory section of the performance were peering out the dressing room tent flap, greeting friends and "checking the house". Excited children and one or two little dogs ran about, peeping into the green room or romping in and out of the big tent.

Green Room for actors. A child who came by to greet the "horses"

Lama J and I joined the adults, milling about greeting one another awaiting their turn to enter the theater and take a seat. We ducked into the actor's entrance at the south east corner of the big tent and found places in the south section of the seating that rings the staging area. The northern and eastern sides were almost full with people sitting on cushions or folding chairs. The western side was blocked off with ropes and had only a table holding a picture of H.H. the Dalai Lama draped with a white scarf of respect, thus reserving his traditional "box" as it were. Eventually, by the end of the day, children and youths would nip under the guard ropes and fill the space, for these seats allowed a good view of the proceedings.

Tree in stage center and property table.

The center of the stage was marked with a small leafy tree about ten feet high that had been firmly implanted in the ground. There were no sets or scenery. A small property table stood next to the tree bearing offerings and an image of the great Shangs pa Kargyudpa teacher, Grub chen Thang stong Rgyal po (1385-1464), the patron of the Lhamo players. To him are attributed the first Lhamo performances, particularly the songs and dances of the introductory ritual section which begins every play performance. Underneath the table were simple properties, mats and such, and also a large kettle of chang, Tibetan beer.

A chair sat in front of the tree, facing to the west. It became in the day's play a throne, a mountain, a flying golden drum, and a huge lotus to name a few. I soon discovered, as the day advanced, that with the addition of imaginative properties and a scene set by narrative chant, both the actor and audience created palaces, forests, undersea and sky–going realms, boat rides, battlefields and market places.

In the east, in front of the audience, two large cushions and a large basin of glowing coals marked the position of the two instrumentalists. The coals were for the drummer who played a double skinned frame drum about two and a half feet in diameter with sides painted in colorful motifs and the scarves of the five sacred colors hanging from the top. The drum was mounted on a long wooden handle, the end of which usually rested on the ground. It was held in the left hand of the seated musician, who played the drum patterns using a sickle–shaped drum stick on the head or sometimes the wooden frame of the drum.

The drummer uses coals to tune his drum

We watched as he heated the drum head over the coals until the pitch and timbre of the drum sounded to his satisfaction. The other musician busily adjusted his sitting space and joked with friends in the audience. He played a pair of flattened–-hemispherical cymbals, producing patterns using a variety of striking techniques. The drummer, at last, satisfied with his drum's voice, nudged the cymbal player, and both, carrying their instruments, disappeared through the actor's entrance. 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  A small white dog trotted in and found a seat up front.      

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Tibetan A Ice Lhamo: The World Beneath the Tents ll by Jeanette Snyder

The abrupt sound of vigorous drum and cymbal music from outside the tent galvanized the audience. Lama J. leaned over and told me that this was the first drum signal, a ten minute warning that the performance was about to begin. Last minute stragglers rushed in and found seating. Others checked their supplies of snacks and beer and settled the children and dogs, one or two of them having to be taken out quickly to relieve themselves. Another drum signal sounded giving a five minute warning to the actors to be ready to perform. At the third drum beats, the audience quieted down awaiting the entrance of the players and the introductory ritual performance that began every play. A smoking pot of juniper branches was brought in and put in the center by the tree.

Suddenly, from the player's entrance, all of the Lhamo actors began filing in, dance–walking and costumed according to their part in the introductory section, which also signified their position in the troupe.

 

First came the Hunters, dressed in baggy black pants and white shirts sashed in red and tucked into colorful dance boots. A striped jacket and a red apron over which a fringed net skirt was wrapped completed the costumes. They wore huge two dimensional masks said to be representative of Lha mo patron, Thang stong Rgyal po, made of cloth covered and appliquéd cardboard decorated with cowries and embroidered features and symbols. Each mask was attached to a cloth headpiece from which a cascade of the five sacred colors fell to the ground in back. Each hunter carried in his hand a symbolic arrow wrapped in the five sacred colors. The role of the Hunters is performed by older, more experienced players and most of the lead male roles come from this group. The director–teacher of the troupe is always in this division.

The Headman or Patriarch followed, dressed in a sashed long Tibetan man's gown with an open sleeveless over robe made of alternate panels of striped and plain fabric. He wore the special dance boots and on his head was a very large, yellow conical felt hat. He carried a long staff or bow in his hand. The Headman is played by one of the senior members of the troupe. There usually are only one or two in a troupe depending upon the size of the group.

Next in line were the Khandroma (mkha' 'gro ma), rainbow–bodied sky going Goddesses, dressed in sashed Tibetan gowns with open sleeveless over–robes of alternating panels of striped and plain fabric. They also wore the special dance boots. On their heads they wore five paneled crowns with rainbow fabric pleated sides attached to a cloth head piece. On the panels were painted the symbols of the five transcendental wisdoms.

                                                                                                            Khandroma, photograph by Linda Iltis

The Khandroma are performed by the remaining players in the troupe and are usually the younger men and boys — and women, if women are included in the troupe. This division supplies the lead female roles. The youngest actors play the small animals, such as parrot, deer and wild pigs, and also supply children's roles such as young princes. I must admit that I was quite startled when I saw my first mustachioed Khandroma in another troupe's performance, but the actor carried his role off so well that the hairy lip was soon forgotten. The musicians playing their drum and cymbals came last, taking their place at the side.

A Hunter began to sing a special aria in praise of the Juniper, to initiate the purification and taming of the ground. The others added a chorus which came in on the end of a line and echoed the phrase. I was excited by the power of this compelling vocal style which I was hearing for the first time in an actual performance setting, and which would carry me through the next eight hours of performance, to say nothing of the following three days!

While the Headman and the Khandroma remained standing in a row facing to the west, awaiting their turn to sing and dance, the Hunters, still singing their song, formed a large circle around the tree in the middle of the stage. They began to perform a special dance to drum and cymbal accompaniment. At a very fast pace they bent their bodies almost parallel to the ground and jumped so high over one leg each time they turned, that it seemed as if they were flying through the air.

 

Hunters' Dance, photograph by Linda Iltis

 The Hunters continued to perform fast and slow circle dance compositions to percussion accompaniment, alternating with songs praising nature, explaining their (Hunters') origins in all the three realms, upper, middle, and lower, and ending with auspicious verses. Starting with the Hunters' performance, periods of witty and sometimes scatological insults and banter between the Hunters and the Headman and later the Khandromas were interspersed between the songs and dances. At one point, much to the glee of the audience, all the Khandroma were assigned rather rude nicknames. Finally, the Hunters called out the Headman and Khandroma and told them to have a go for a little while. Upon this invitation, the Headman hit his staff on his thumb ring, the cymbals sounded and the Khandromas did rounds of hand gestures called "lotus turnings" to the rhythm of the drum and cymbals. The Headman then began singing his special songs accompanied by hand gestures, which with his stately dances, "let fall the rain of blessings." Finally the Khandroma sang their songs, each one taking a line, interspersed with slow and fast dancing. They sang mainly about the accomplishments and attributes of Thang stong rgyal po.

After a slow dance and final song, all the players did homage to the Dalai Lama (his photograph), prostrating themselves and touching their foreheads to the ground three times. I noticed a few players leaving the stage, and soon discovered that the day's play was about to begin and these players had early entrances. The other players remained encircling the edges of the stage.

One of the Hunters, the director–teacher of the group, then stepped forward, announcing the successful completion of the introductory ritual and that today they would present the story of Padma 'od 'bar, "so please rivet your ears to the story." After this announcement was echoed by another Hunter, he went on to recite the background and setting for Padma 'od 'bar. The narration finished with a description of the first character about to enter, and as we all looked expectantly to the actor's entrance, the Hunter announced "Heretic King Log pa'i chos sbyin, please come to the center of the white floor of the King's palace." (Hunter, photo courtesy of Linda Iltis)

The drums and cymbals started playing the special music for the king who entered followed by two servants, one with an open umbrella. He was robed in a sashed silver brocade gown, carrying a fan and wearing a quilted silver cloth mask with large eye and mouth openings trimmed in red, and sporting a mustache and beard. It was topped with a white turban. He danced to drum and cymbal music in a stately turning style around the stage, stopped in front of the Dalai Lama's portrait, bowed, ascended his throne, and the day's play opened in the King's court.

 

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Tibetan A Ice Lhamo: The World Beneath the Tents lV by Jeanette Snyder

As I watched the performance of the play, I noticed how the actors carefully paced the action and continually adjusted the story to fit the audience response and preferences. Some sections were lengthened, others were shortened. When a particular actor's characterization was well received, more time was tacitly allowed for extra pantomime or ad lib business. One example of this was the encounter of Padma 'od 'bar with the cannibal demonesses of Lanka. Dressed in skeleton suits with skull like masks, and long finger and toe nails, the demons delighted in rushing at all the young children in the audience, threatening to eat them up. The excited and terrified children would run about among the actors or hide behind their elders, creating a funny joyous confusion.

And as each one of the demonesses at the sound of the magic words, eventually "threw up" the hero whom they had gobbled up, the performance of each succeeding cannibal's regurgitation took longer and was made funnier with added bits of business until the demon queen's turn, which left the audience completely limp and ready for her aria, in which she realizes the special enlightened nature of Padma 'od 'bar.

Cannibal Demonesses Costumes

Another favorite was the performer playing the king's minister, Swift Foot, who was dressed all in black, with a black cloth mask of the type worn by the King. The mask had a huge, loose, bulbous nose, with a cowrie shell on the end that wobbled when he moved or talked. Among some of his ad lib business that delighted the crowd was his inclusion of that small white dog who was an attentive front row spectator for all the plays. As the minister was off on an errand for the king, he almost collapsed in terror at the sight of the "ferocious lion" that "blocked his path" and sent him running quaking back to the king's chambers without completing his errand. Of course, to the delight of the audience, he was sent out again and again, "quaking in fear," trying to tip–toe around the "frightful beast." And again, in the episode when he was sent with his spyglass to investigate what was so bright and shining in the town that gave the King a headache (the golden threads of Padma 'od 'bar), he directed his spy glass with much pantomimed business in the four directions, adlibbing for the audience what it was that he spied. To the west, he saw "the Dalai Lama sitting very brightly in the middle of the town," then in the direction of the least expensive seats, he saw "all the fancy gentlemen very brightly dressed," to the direction with the most costly seats obviously all sold out, he saw "all the lha mo players cups full of tea," and to the south, he saw that "American girl shining brightly in town who will come every day to the lha mo."

The audience, which could be quite noisy at times with chatting to their neighbors, the crying of babies and the barking dogs, became instantly silent and focused during tender or sad parts in the performance. The scene in which Padma 'od 'bar bade farewell to his mother as he goes off on his quest for the King was long and poignant, played out to an attentive audience, many of whom were crying at the end.

Padma 'od 'bar bids farewell to his mother

The audience moved in and out during the performance. Some devotees stayed for the whole performance, others only came for their favorite parts, nipping out to picnic or drink beer and chat with friends. And when the lunch break arrived just as the old woman trader was to reveal to Padma 'od 'bar the identity of his father, some of the audience stayed and ate their lunch and drank their beer, reserving their places, while others of us went in search of roadside restaurants in the neighborhood where we could get a quick plate of food. Throughout the day the performers would also take a beer or cigarette break at the edge of the stage area if they were not on at that moment.

Actor on quick smoking break and drummers

The actors skillfully continued to manipulate the audience, moving them from laughter to tears and back again. The audience became more and more involved with the play as the day progressed, and the end came nearer, they moved closer and closer to the actors, filling in the front areas, making the circle smaller and smaller, until they were almost part of the play. The relationship between the actors and audience became more intimate. And suddenly, it was late, the evening almost upon us. Padmasambhava in the lotus (that chair again) was carried in and we received his blessings.

I joined the energized, slightly tipsy throng making its way back to the high street and home. Some were acting out favorite scenes and moments from the day's play as they walked. Many could be heard for hours, singing and echoing their favorite songs in the streets. I fell asleep to the sound, anticipating the next day's performance.

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Further Reading:

Nonfiction:
Lungta #15, Winter, 2001: The Singing Mask; Echoes of Tibetan Opera Amnye Machen Institute, 2001
Zlos–gar: Commemorative issue on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the founding of the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts (1959–84). editor by Jamyang Norbu, Dharmamsala: Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, 1986
"Nonsense verse in Tibetan Opera" by Jamyang Norbu and Tashi Tsering, in Lungta #19, Two thousand years and more of Tibetan poetry, 1995
"rngon–pa'I'don: Elements of Analysis of the preliminary section of a–lce–lha–mo performances in Central Tibet" by Isabell Henrion–Dourcy in Proceedings of the 8th Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Bloomington: Indiana, 1998
Ache Lhamo is My Life by Norbu Tsering, Turin: Legenda, 1999

On the Web:

Academy of Tibetan Culture and Norbulinka Institute (preservation of Tibetan Culture)
Phayul.com: News and Views on Tibet
Lungta: Journal of Tibetan History and Culture
Amnye Machen Institute: Tibetan Centre for Advanced Studies

About the Author:
Jeanette Snyder attended the University of California at Los Angeles and the Universities of Washington and Wisconsin,earning degrees in Anthropology and Tibetan Language and Literature. She has traveled widely in India, Himalayan Regions, and West and South Asia. Her research focused on Tibetan folksong, music, and performing arts, especially the A lce Lha mo.

Copyright © 2005 by Jeanette Snyder. This article may not be reproduced in any form without the author's express written permission. Photographs Copyright ©1955 — 2003 by Jeanette Snyder, Linda Iltis and Beatrice Miller. These images may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission.

Heretic King

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The abrupt sound of vigorous drum and cymbal music from outside the tent galvanized the audience. Lama J. leaned over and told me that this was the first drum signal, a ten minute warning that the performance was about to begin. Last minute stragglers rushed in and found seating. Others checked their supplies of snacks and beer and settled the children and dogs, one or two of them having to be taken out quickly to relieve themselves. Another drum signal sounded giving a five minute warning to the actors to be ready to perform. At the third drum beats, the audience quieted down awaiting the entrance of the players and the introductory ritual performance that began every play. A smoking pot of juniper branches was brought in and put in the center by the tree.

Suddenly, from the player's entrance, all of the Lhamo actors began filing in, dance–walking and costumed according to their part in the introductory section, which also signified their position in the troupe.

 

First came the Hunters, dressed in baggy black pants and white shirts sashed in red and tucked into colorful dance boots. A striped jacket and a red apron over which a fringed net skirt was wrapped completed the costumes. They wore huge two dimensional masks said to be representative of Lha mo patron, Thang stong Rgyal po, made of cloth covered and appliquéd cardboard decorated with cowries and embroidered features and symbols. Each mask was attached to a cloth headpiece from which a cascade of the five sacred colors fell to the ground in back. Each hunter carried in his hand a symbolic arrow wrapped in the five sacred colors. The role of the Hunters is performed by older, more experienced players and most of the lead male roles come from this group. The director–teacher of the troupe is always in this division.

The Headman or Patriarch followed, dressed in a sashed long Tibetan man's gown with an open sleeveless over robe made of alternate panels of striped and plain fabric. He wore the special dance boots and on his head was a very large, yellow conical felt hat. He carried a long staff or bow in his hand. The Headman is played by one of the senior members of the troupe. There usually are only one or two in a troupe depending upon the size of the group.

Next in line were the Khandroma (mkha' 'gro ma), rainbow–bodied sky going Goddesses, dressed in sashed Tibetan gowns with open sleeveless over–robes of alternating panels of striped and plain fabric. They also wore the special dance boots. On their heads they wore five paneled crowns with rainbow fabric pleated sides attached to a cloth head piece. On the panels were painted the symbols of the five transcendental wisdoms.

                                                                                                            Khandroma, photograph by Linda Iltis

The Khandroma are performed by the remaining players in the troupe and are usually the younger men and boys — and women, if women are included in the troupe. This division supplies the lead female roles. The youngest actors play the small animals, such as parrot, deer and wild pigs, and also supply children's roles such as young princes. I must admit that I was quite startled when I saw my first mustachioed Khandroma in another troupe's performance, but the actor carried his role off so well that the hairy lip was soon forgotten. The musicians playing their drum and cymbals came last, taking their place at the side.

A Hunter began to sing a special aria in praise of the Juniper, to initiate the purification and taming of the ground. The others added a chorus which came in on the end of a line and echoed the phrase. I was excited by the power of this compelling vocal style which I was hearing for the first time in an actual performance setting, and which would carry me through the next eight hours of performance, to say nothing of the following three days!

While the Headman and the Khandroma remained standing in a row facing to the west, awaiting their turn to sing and dance, the Hunters, still singing their song, formed a large circle around the tree in the middle of the stage. They began to perform a special dance to drum and cymbal accompaniment. At a very fast pace they bent their bodies almost parallel to the ground and jumped so high over one leg each time they turned, that it seemed as if they were flying through the air.

 

Hunters' Dance, photograph by Linda Iltis

 The Hunters continued to perform fast and slow circle dance compositions to percussion accompaniment, alternating with songs praising nature, explaining their (Hunters') origins in all the three realms, upper, middle, and lower, and ending with auspicious verses. Starting with the Hunters' performance, periods of witty and sometimes scatological insults and banter between the Hunters and the Headman and later the Khandromas were interspersed between the songs and dances. At one point, much to the glee of the audience, all the Khandroma were assigned rather rude nicknames. Finally, the Hunters called out the Headman and Khandroma and told them to have a go for a little while. Upon this invitation, the Headman hit his staff on his thumb ring, the cymbals sounded and the Khandromas did rounds of hand gestures called "lotus turnings" to the rhythm of the drum and cymbals. The Headman then began singing his special songs accompanied by hand gestures, which with his stately dances, "let fall the rain of blessings." Finally the Khandroma sang their songs, each one taking a line, interspersed with slow and fast dancing. They sang mainly about the accomplishments and attributes of Thang stong rgyal po.

After a slow dance and final song, all the players did homage to the Dalai Lama (his photograph), prostrating themselves and touching their foreheads to the ground three times. I noticed a few players leaving the stage, and soon discovered that the day's play was about to begin and these players had early entrances. The other players remained encircling the edges of the stage.

One of the Hunters, the director–teacher of the group, then stepped forward, announcing the successful completion of the introductory ritual and that today they would present the story of Padma 'od 'bar, "so please rivet your ears to the story." After this announcement was echoed by another Hunter, he went on to recite the background and setting for Padma 'od 'bar. The narration finished with a description of the first character about to enter, and as we all looked expectantly to the actor's entrance, the Hunter announced "Heretic King Log pa'i chos sbyin, please come to the center of the white floor of the King's palace." (Hunter, photo courtesy of Linda Iltis)

The drums and cymbals started playing the special music for the king who entered followed by two servants, one with an open umbrella. He was robed in a sashed silver brocade gown, carrying a fan and wearing a quilted silver cloth mask with large eye and mouth openings trimmed in red, and sporting a mustache and beard. It was topped with a white turban. He danced to drum and cymbal music in a stately turning style around the stage, stopped in front of the Dalai Lama's portrait, bowed, ascended his throne, and the day's play opened in the King's court.

 

                                                                                                        1 | 2  | 3 | 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tibetan A Ice Lhamo: The World Beneath the Tents lV by Jeanette Snyder

As I watched the performance of the play, I noticed how the actors carefully paced the action and continually adjusted the story to fit the audience response and preferences. Some sections were lengthened, others were shortened. When a particular actor's characterization was well received, more time was tacitly allowed for extra pantomime or ad lib business. One example of this was the encounter of Padma 'od 'bar with the cannibal demonesses of Lanka. Dressed in skeleton suits with skull like masks, and long finger and toe nails, the demons delighted in rushing at all the young children in the audience, threatening to eat them up. The excited and terrified children would run about among the actors or hide behind their elders, creating a funny joyous confusion.

And as each one of the demonesses at the sound of the magic words, eventually "threw up" the hero whom they had gobbled up, the performance of each succeeding cannibal's regurgitation took longer and was made funnier with added bits of business until the demon queen's turn, which left the audience completely limp and ready for her aria, in which she realizes the special enlightened nature of Padma 'od 'bar.

Cannibal Demonesses Costumes

Another favorite was the performer playing the king's minister, Swift Foot, who was dressed all in black, with a black cloth mask of the type worn by the King. The mask had a huge, loose, bulbous nose, with a cowrie shell on the end that wobbled when he moved or talked. Among some of his ad lib business that delighted the crowd was his inclusion of that small white dog who was an attentive front row spectator for all the plays. As the minister was off on an errand for the king, he almost collapsed in terror at the sight of the "ferocious lion" that "blocked his path" and sent him running quaking back to the king's chambers without completing his errand. Of course, to the delight of the audience, he was sent out again and again, "quaking in fear," trying to tip–toe around the "frightful beast." And again, in the episode when he was sent with his spyglass to investigate what was so bright and shining in the town that gave the King a headache (the golden threads of Padma 'od 'bar), he directed his spy glass with much pantomimed business in the four directions, adlibbing for the audience what it was that he spied. To the west, he saw "the Dalai Lama sitting very brightly in the middle of the town," then in the direction of the least expensive seats, he saw "all the fancy gentlemen very brightly dressed," to the direction with the most costly seats obviously all sold out, he saw "all the lha mo players cups full of tea," and to the south, he saw that "American girl shining brightly in town who will come every day to the lha mo."

The audience, which could be quite noisy at times with chatting to their neighbors, the crying of babies and the barking dogs, became instantly silent and focused during tender or sad parts in the performance. The scene in which Padma 'od 'bar bade farewell to his mother as he goes off on his quest for the King was long and poignant, played out to an attentive audience, many of whom were crying at the end.

Padma 'od 'bar bids farewell to his mother

The audience moved in and out during the performance. Some devotees stayed for the whole performance, others only came for their favorite parts, nipping out to picnic or drink beer and chat with friends. And when the lunch break arrived just as the old woman trader was to reveal to Padma 'od 'bar the identity of his father, some of the audience stayed and ate their lunch and drank their beer, reserving their places, while others of us went in search of roadside restaurants in the neighborhood where we could get a quick plate of food. Throughout the day the performers would also take a beer or cigarette break at the edge of the stage area if they were not on at that moment.

Actor on quick smoking break and drummers

The actors skillfully continued to manipulate the audience, moving them from laughter to tears and back again. The audience became more and more involved with the play as the day progressed, and the end came nearer, they moved closer and closer to the actors, filling in the front areas, making the circle smaller and smaller, until they were almost part of the play. The relationship between the actors and audience became more intimate. And suddenly, it was late, the evening almost upon us. Padmasambhava in the lotus (that chair again) was carried in and we received his blessings.

I joined the energized, slightly tipsy throng making its way back to the high street and home. Some were acting out favorite scenes and moments from the day's play as they walked. Many could be heard for hours, singing and echoing their favorite songs in the streets. I fell asleep to the sound, anticipating the next day's performance.

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Further Reading:

Nonfiction:
Lungta #15, Winter, 2001: The Singing Mask; Echoes of Tibetan Opera Amnye Machen Institute, 2001
Zlos–gar: Commemorative issue on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the founding of the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts (1959–84). editor by Jamyang Norbu, Dharmamsala: Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, 1986
"Nonsense verse in Tibetan Opera" by Jamyang Norbu and Tashi Tsering, in Lungta #19, Two thousand years and more of Tibetan poetry, 1995
"rngon–pa'I'don: Elements of Analysis of the preliminary section of a–lce–lha–mo performances in Central Tibet" by Isabell Henrion–Dourcy in Proceedings of the 8th Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Bloomington: Indiana, 1998
Ache Lhamo is My Life by Norbu Tsering, Turin: Legenda, 1999

On the Web:

Academy of Tibetan Culture and Norbulinka Institute (preservation of Tibetan Culture)
Phayul.com: News and Views on Tibet
Lungta: Journal of Tibetan History and Culture
Amnye Machen Institute: Tibetan Centre for Advanced Studies

About the Author:
Jeanette Snyder attended the University of California at Los Angeles and the Universities of Washington and Wisconsin,earning degrees in Anthropology and Tibetan Language and Literature. She has traveled widely in India, Himalayan Regions, and West and South Asia. Her research focused on Tibetan folksong, music, and performing arts, especially the A lce Lha mo.

Copyright © 2005 by Jeanette Snyder. This article may not be reproduced in any form without the author's express written permission. Photographs Copyright ©1955 — 2003 by Jeanette Snyder, Linda Iltis and Beatrice Miller. These images may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission.

Heretic King

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As I watched the performance of the play, I noticed how the actors carefully paced the action and continually adjusted the story to fit the audience response and preferences. Some sections were lengthened, others were shortened. When a particular actor's characterization was well received, more time was tacitly allowed for extra pantomime or ad lib business. One example of this was the encounter of Padma 'od 'bar with the cannibal demonesses of Lanka. Dressed in skeleton suits with skull like masks, and long finger and toe nails, the demons delighted in rushing at all the young children in the audience, threatening to eat them up. The excited and terrified children would run about among the actors or hide behind their elders, creating a funny joyous confusion.

And as each one of the demonesses at the sound of the magic words, eventually "threw up" the hero whom they had gobbled up, the performance of each succeeding cannibal's regurgitation took longer and was made funnier with added bits of business until the demon queen's turn, which left the audience completely limp and ready for her aria, in which she realizes the special enlightened nature of Padma 'od 'bar.

Cannibal Demonesses Costumes

Another favorite was the performer playing the king's minister, Swift Foot, who was dressed all in black, with a black cloth mask of the type worn by the King. The mask had a huge, loose, bulbous nose, with a cowrie shell on the end that wobbled when he moved or talked. Among some of his ad lib business that delighted the crowd was his inclusion of that small white dog who was an attentive front row spectator for all the plays. As the minister was off on an errand for the king, he almost collapsed in terror at the sight of the "ferocious lion" that "blocked his path" and sent him running quaking back to the king's chambers without completing his errand. Of course, to the delight of the audience, he was sent out again and again, "quaking in fear," trying to tip–toe around the "frightful beast." And again, in the episode when he was sent with his spyglass to investigate what was so bright and shining in the town that gave the King a headache (the golden threads of Padma 'od 'bar), he directed his spy glass with much pantomimed business in the four directions, adlibbing for the audience what it was that he spied. To the west, he saw "the Dalai Lama sitting very brightly in the middle of the town," then in the direction of the least expensive seats, he saw "all the fancy gentlemen very brightly dressed," to the direction with the most costly seats obviously all sold out, he saw "all the lha mo players cups full of tea," and to the south, he saw that "American girl shining brightly in town who will come every day to the lha mo."

The audience, which could be quite noisy at times with chatting to their neighbors, the crying of babies and the barking dogs, became instantly silent and focused during tender or sad parts in the performance. The scene in which Padma 'od 'bar bade farewell to his mother as he goes off on his quest for the King was long and poignant, played out to an attentive audience, many of whom were crying at the end.

Padma 'od 'bar bids farewell to his mother

The audience moved in and out during the performance. Some devotees stayed for the whole performance, others only came for their favorite parts, nipping out to picnic or drink beer and chat with friends. And when the lunch break arrived just as the old woman trader was to reveal to Padma 'od 'bar the identity of his father, some of the audience stayed and ate their lunch and drank their beer, reserving their places, while others of us went in search of roadside restaurants in the neighborhood where we could get a quick plate of food. Throughout the day the performers would also take a beer or cigarette break at the edge of the stage area if they were not on at that moment.

Actor on quick smoking break and drummers

The actors skillfully continued to manipulate the audience, moving them from laughter to tears and back again. The audience became more and more involved with the play as the day progressed, and the end came nearer, they moved closer and closer to the actors, filling in the front areas, making the circle smaller and smaller, until they were almost part of the play. The relationship between the actors and audience became more intimate. And suddenly, it was late, the evening almost upon us. Padmasambhava in the lotus (that chair again) was carried in and we received his blessings.

I joined the energized, slightly tipsy throng making its way back to the high street and home. Some were acting out favorite scenes and moments from the day's play as they walked. Many could be heard for hours, singing and echoing their favorite songs in the streets. I fell asleep to the sound, anticipating the next day's performance.

1 | 2  | 3 | 4

Further Reading:

Nonfiction:
Lungta #15, Winter, 2001: The Singing Mask; Echoes of Tibetan Opera Amnye Machen Institute, 2001
Zlos–gar: Commemorative issue on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the founding of the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts (1959–84). editor by Jamyang Norbu, Dharmamsala: Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, 1986
"Nonsense verse in Tibetan Opera" by Jamyang Norbu and Tashi Tsering, in Lungta #19, Two thousand years and more of Tibetan poetry, 1995
"rngon–pa'I'don: Elements of Analysis of the preliminary section of a–lce–lha–mo performances in Central Tibet" by Isabell Henrion–Dourcy in Proceedings of the 8th Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Bloomington: Indiana, 1998
Ache Lhamo is My Life by Norbu Tsering, Turin: Legenda, 1999

On the Web:

Academy of Tibetan Culture and Norbulinka Institute (preservation of Tibetan Culture)
Phayul.com: News and Views on Tibet
Lungta: Journal of Tibetan History and Culture
Amnye Machen Institute: Tibetan Centre for Advanced Studies

About the Author:
Jeanette Snyder attended the University of California at Los Angeles and the Universities of Washington and Wisconsin,earning degrees in Anthropology and Tibetan Language and Literature. She has traveled widely in India, Himalayan Regions, and West and South Asia. Her research focused on Tibetan folksong, music, and performing arts, especially the A lce Lha mo.

Copyright © 2005 by Jeanette Snyder. This article may not be reproduced in any form without the author's express written permission. Photographs Copyright ©1955 — 2003 by Jeanette Snyder, Linda Iltis and Beatrice Miller. These images may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission.