The Hand of My Precious Teacher

I met my teacher, Venerable Geshe Dorji Damdul la, while I was serving in a Buddhist nunnery at the foothills of the Himalayas. All of his students, and whoever has ever met him, will not disagree that there is something so profound about his personality that people can sense serenity in his presence. It is hard to ignore. At our first meeting, my heart was full of respect for him, though it took me some time to actually become his student. Just like his personality, another thing you cannot ignore is his profoundly beautiful hands. As an artist, I observe people and their posture, especially their hand gestures. I can say that I have never seen such beautiful hands in real life. 

Often Venerable Geshe la held a flower in his hand and asked us two questions. The first was whether it exists and the second was whether it exists objectively. While explaining the concept of emptiness, he would gently pick up a flower from the table and hold it before us. Seeing that, I would often slip into a quiet trance in which I visualized Shakyamuni Buddha holding a lotus flower before the gathering of his disciples at Vulture Peak in Rajagriha. To explain this, I need to give a little context that is closely connected to my childhood memories.

Buddha was a hero to me when I was a child. I grew up listening to stories about Buddha from my art teacher. I naturally gravitated toward all the stories about his life. I searched for story books and novels where Buddha appeared as a character. The stories of his life, filled with deep logical significance, completely fascinated me. Whenever I read or listened to these stories, vivid images of Shakyamuni Buddha and his disciples would appear in my mind, like a moving picture. Those peaceful visualizations were a refuge for me. It is difficult to say which story I loved the most. All of them left a strong impression on my young mind.

One such story tells of the disciples gathering at Vulture Peak to listen to Buddha’s teaching. This is also known as Silent Flower Sermon. On that day, Buddha did something unusual. He did not speak at all. The disciples gathered at Vulture Peak in Rajgir with the expectation of hearing a profound teaching. Instead, Buddha remained silent, and after a few moments, he held up a single lotus flower. He slowly turned it between his fingers and looked at the assembly.

The disciples were puzzled, for they did not understand the gesture. Only Mahakashyapa understood. Seeing Buddha silently holding the lotus flower, Mahakashyapa had a direct realization of emptiness. Only Mahakashyapa in the assembly understood the meaning of Buddha’s silent sermon. Understanding it, he smiled at Buddha faintly. Buddha simultaneously realized that Mahakashyapa had understood the meaning of the teaching. The silent transmission of the teaching happened between them. This is such a beautifully profound story. Whenever I read or listen to this story, I start seeing the whole scene in my mind, like a movie playing in my head.

Our teacher also holds a flower very gently while explaining emptiness to us. He has done this countless times for his students. Thousands of people may have been introduced to the wisdom of emptiness through this beautiful gesture. Whenever my teacher holds the flower, my mind travels to the image of Buddha, Mahakashyapa, and the entire assembly at Vulture Peak.

We are not as meritorious as Mahakashyapa, nor do we have direct realization of emptiness. Therefore, our teacher holds the flower again and again to show us the correct path and explains it without failing in enthusiasm. This is not only enthusiasm. It is the compassion of a Bodhisattva. Realizing this wisdom carries the antidote to all our miseries and mental afflictions. We, who remain ignorant, fail to recognize it. Yet our teacher, with great patience and vast compassion, continues to hold the flower in his beautiful hand and explain the meaning to us again and again. My mind is often filled with amazement whenever I reflect on this great compassion.

I received fine arts training when I was a child. One of my favourite exercises was drawing hand gestures from a book by the artist Nandalal Bose. Later I learned that these hands I loved to practice were the hands of Bodhisattvas. Nandalal Bose sketched them while documenting the murals of Buddha and Bodhisattvas in the Ajanta Caves. These images are landmarks of classical Indian aesthetics, but to me they were hands of compassion too. Their beauty and purity are such that if one looks at them with attention, it seems impossible to imagine that anything harmful could ever come from such hands. When I saw my teacher's hands for the first time, the same feeling returned to me. And whenever he holds a flower to explain the wisdom of emptiness, it becomes an example of the highest form of visual aesthetics too.

Last year, I wanted to paint something for my teacher. My first thought was to create a life size portrait of him. I discussed this with two fellow students, but they did not encourage the idea. They suggested something smaller. With a reluctant heart, I made two oil paintings of my teacher, Venerable Geshe Dorji Damdul la. Yet I was not convinced that they were the perfect gift. I spent many days thinking about it. I also sensed from other students that he may not like something too grand. So I began to think of something more meaningful.

The teachings are what connect me to my teacher. I asked myself what the visual representation of teaching is. The answer was easy for me. It is the hand holding the flower. Looking at that hand holding the flower, I feel connected to the sermon of Buddha as well.

These inner questions made everything simple for me. I had lost sleep searching for the right image, yet the answer was already within me, vivid in my mind. Closing my eyes, I can see it.And thus I made this small wash watercolor painting, “The Hand of My Precious Teacher.” I was fortunate enough to get a chance to show it to my teacher and to speak my heart in front of my precious teacher. Today I am writing this on a very special day, and I wish,

“In all my lives, never separated from perfect Gurus, 

May I enjoy the magnificent Dharma.”