It is strange that the history of Odisha takes up so little space in our understanding of our past. In the medieval period, it was one of the subcontinent’s greatest religious centres, participating in circulatory systems that stretched from Tibet to Indonesia and China. The monastic centre of Ratnagiri, about 80 km from Bhubaneshwar, reveals much of its fascinating Buddhist history: from kings copying out Buddhist manuscripts to clay seals used to “print” mantras and even tantric sexual rites – but not in the way you might expect.
The distant reach of Buddhism in Odisha
The court of the imperial Tang Dynasty of China was used to visitors from distant lands. Situated as it was at the terminus of overland trade routes stretching into Central Asia and beyond, its members were Han Chinese, Turkic, Sogdian, Khotanese, Gandharan, and any number of now-vanished ethnic groups. But also increasingly present were Indians from the southern part of the subcontinent: tantric Buddhist masters such as Vajrabodhi, for example. Around 725 CE, this court received a magnificent gift, discussed by historian Umakant Mishra in Odisha: Cradle of Vajrayana Buddhism (2013). Sent by the Bhaumakara king Subhakarasimha, the ruler of a small kingdom on the Mahanadi delta, it was an iconographic copybook, in the king’s own hand, of mandala deities of tantric Buddhist (Vajrayana) texts. The concept of mandalas was rapidly gaining ground in Buddhist practice: literally meaning “circle”, they were symmetrical visual arrangements of various celestial Buddhas and bodhisattvas (future Buddhas). They were meant to be depictions of the organisation of the heavens and the cosmos and were believed to contain tremendous power. Subhakarasimha’s gift was, therefore, most valuable.
It is very likely that this Odia king sent out copied-out mandalas to other Asian kings, particularly those of Indonesia, which was also a great tantric Buddhist centre. In Image, Ritual and Ideology: Examining the Mahāvihāra at Ratnagiri (2016), historian Natasha Reichle points out that the term “Keling”, likely derived from “Kalinga”, was used to refer to many Indian merchants—especially cotton textile traders—in medieval Indonesia. Medieval sculptures from both Java and Odisha shared some conceptual commonalities, indicating that both were exchanging tantric ideas at this time. Inscriptions from Odisha mention individuals bearing the title of “maha-mandala-acharya” or “great mandala teacher”, and later, Tibetan Buddhists mentioned Odisha as a major centre for Vajrayana texts.
The mahavihara, the great monastery at Ratnagiri, appears slightly older than these developments. The earliest inscriptional evidence there dates to the 5th century, and it was continually occupied and added to for over 800 years. The complex consists of two monasteries and one large stupa, to which over 700 smaller stupas were added over the centuries, writes archaeologist Himanshu Prabha Ray in Providing for the Buddha: Monastic Centres in Eastern India (2008). This puts it in the same rank of pilgrimage popularity as Bodh Gaya, the site where the Buddha gained his enlightenment, which similarly saw hundreds of smaller stupas added to it during the medieval period. In Inscribed Buddhist Images and Copperplates from Odisha (2018), Umakant Mishra also established that donors at Ratnagiri included individuals from Nalanda. Ratnagiri’s network, therefore, spread along India’s east coast into the Gangetic plains and across the eastern Indian Ocean into Indonesia.
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Ritual and worship
This said, the mahavihara was quite different from its contemporaries further north. For example, the colossal mahavihara at Somapura/Paharpur was arranged around a central stupa built in the shape of a mandala. Ratnagiri, however, was very much in the style of older, smaller viharas south of the Vindhyas, consisting of a wide open courtyard surrounded by cells for monks. Its entrance opened directly onto the courtyard; facing it, from the other side of the complex, was a shrine to the Buddha, flanked by the bodhisattvas Padmapani (Lotus-Holder), signifying compassion, and Vajrapani (Thunderbolt-Holder), signifying wisdom. Buddha, representing enlightenment, was believed to have both these attributes. (Reichle 2016, page 229).
The focus on these three deities suggests that Ratnagiri was built well before the emergence of tantric Buddhism and probably belonged to the Mahayana tradition. Its monks probably vowed to become bodhisattvas like Padmapani and Vajrapani, postponing their enlightenment to help other living beings (especially the monastery’s devotees and donors) become Buddhas. In contrast, the earliest generations of monks had been much more focused on their own enlightenment. This intelligent theological innovation made monks akin to divine beings, while simultaneously offering Buddhist devotees a much bigger slice of the pie, as it were.
Reichle provides a vivid reconstruction of Mahayana ritual practice at Ratnagiri, using various traveller’s accounts and contemporary texts. A gong was struck by the monastic director every morning, and a colourfully decorated awning stretched over the large courtyard. Jars of incense were arranged on both sides of the great idol of the Buddha at its rear, probably freshly ground, using rolling stones that have been discovered in archaeological digs. Female musicians played as the Buddha was offered “flowers, fruits, medicinal plants, [and] all the treasures that there are in the universe”; it was then smeared with incense, bathed, clothed and fed. Soon after, monks similarly bathed smaller, portable idols stored in the monastery’s gandhakuti (perfumed chamber) and in their own chambers, anointing them with yellow, vermillion, and blue pigment. Lay-followers and musicians of both sexes, as well as nuns, visited viharas such as Ratnagiri. “These… give us a view of the monastery in which people of various genders and different status interacted perhaps more freely than might be assumed,” writes Reichle.
The ongoing success of Buddhism in this period is due to how integral it had become to social life; in many ways, its practices anticipated or responded to traditions we might call “Hindu”, showing that South Asian religions were all part of a shared cultural environment. One final example of this comes from the entrance to this monastery: it is surmounted by a carving of the royal goddess Gaja-Lakshmi, Lakshmi bathed by elephants.
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Evolution and contestation
As societies changed and evolved, so did Buddhism. A major renovation took place late in Ratnagiri’s history, adding additional brick temples, expanding the antechamber leading to the main shrine, and bricking up monk’s cells on the first floor (Reichle 2016, page 233). Additional pillared facades were also added to the main shrine. These contain some rather unexpected images: couples engaging in sexual acts while an attendant bunches up and cuts their hair. This suggests the ascendancy of tantric ideas at Ratnagiri. Though it is not likely that the monks themselves were sexually active, such visuals were needed in tantric ritual contexts, especially those that were otherwise kept secret and required a practitioner to go through tiers of ritual initiation before being revealed (Reichle 2016, page 234). The larger antechamber could have been used for such ritual initiations.
This did not necessarily impact Ratnagiri’s popularity. After all, such a renovation must have required considerable investment, of which there are signs in the inscriptional record. A large number of ranakas or military chieftains patronised Ratnagiri (Mishra 2018, page 86–87), and there is evidence of terracotta clay amulets and seals with the legend “Tarabala Mararodhana.” These seals, notes Mishra, were probably stamped on clay lumps and designed to help devotees resist the demon Mara with the aid of the tantric Buddhist goddess Tara (Mishra 2018, page 85). In fact, Tara was depicted on Ratnagiri’s mini-stupas—donated by devotees—more frequently than even the Buddhas of the tantric pantheon, attesting to her tremendous following.
Unfortunately, Ratnagiri’s popularity would not last forever. Like its contemporary, the Somapura mahavihara in present-day Bangladesh, it was soon to be challenged by an assertive, state-supported Shaivism. We will explore this complex history in a future edition of Thinking Medieval.
Anirudh Kanisetti is a public historian. He is the author of Lords of the Deccan, a new history of medieval South India, and hosts the Echoes of India and Yuddha podcasts. He tweets @AKanisetti. Views are personal.
This article is a part of the ‘Thinking Medieval‘ series that takes a deep dive into India’s medieval culture, politics, and history.
(Edited by Zoya Bhatti)