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fortunate. An official-looking monk passed along each row, giving what looked like two banknotes to each seated monk. Then, down each row, ran a small boy-monk with a metal kettle, leaving a small trail of water behind him (the water coming from the kettle, I should point out). Obviously symbolic of something - ritual cleansing? Stunned and devoid of all feeling except a sense of being overwhelmed, we were ushered out into the next and final courtyard, beyond which was the building that had suffered most in the flood.
It may have suffered, but was now receiving its reward. This vast structure was the principal target of the king's no-expense-spared command. Ten years later and the restoration was far from complete. (But didn't Salisbury Cathedral take about a century to build?) The focus of this hall, the highly decorated ceiling of which stretched about six or seven storeys above our heads, was three enormous seated statues. The centre figure was that of Buddha himself, about 40 feet high and carved in wood. He was flanked by two smaller (30 feet) figures, one of whom was Guru Rinpoche. These, we were told, were of brass but they had been covered in clay. In front of these was what must have been a container-load of prayers and religious representations printed on tissue paper. It is the custom to fill the hollow back of statues with printed prayers, so that they are always there. These were waiting to be sealed within Buddha and his sidesmen.
Attention to detail
Working in a stream of slanting sunlight, and with the dubious benefit of some 40-watt light bulbs, were about a dozen artisans who were putting the finishing touches to 100 or so smaller seated statues. These figures, about two feet high, were waiting to be placed into a similar number of niches in the walls around this 200-foot square hall. Other workmen were carving wood, modelling detailed bits of decoration in clay, and painting. Rood wooden scaffolding surrounded the three major figures, behind one of which I climbed. There I saw a craftsman carefully moulding clay to represent more perfectly the flowing robes of the seated guru. What struck me most was that nobody would ever see the fruits of this man's labours, but that did not seem to matter one bit. Again, thinking of my own culture, a similar amount of unrecognised effort went into the facial expression of a gargoyle high in the wall of Salisbury, or the decoration of a ceiling boss 200 feet off