From Siddhartha Gautama to Tony Soprano

The 705-foot tall Yankin Hill is three curvy miles east of Mandalay. Yankin means “free of danger,” so it is not surprising that the area affords a bit of peace and quiet away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Sir Herbert White more liberally translated the name as “Hill of Peace.” The hill also goes by the name Nga Yant Taung, after the fish described in the story that follows. Its name is also a testament to the safe refuge it afforded Mandalay residents from the intense fighting and bombing in and around the city during World War II.

The hill area was first developed as a pilgrimage site by U Khanti during the colonial era. Further playing to the meaning of its name, two Jātaka Tales attest to this being where the Buddha escaped enemies in former lifetimes, one of which places him as a snakehead fish in a pond in a cave near the top of the hill. The Jātaka Tales, or stories of the Buddha’s past births, appear to have been canonized in the 5th century (most appear in the Cariyapitaka in Khuddaka Nikaya of Sutta Pitaka). Apart from these, there are also the “apocryphal Jatakas” in which local cultures and contexts are brought in. In Myanmar this is known as လက္တန္း၊ ဒဏၭာရီ, and such stories are not found anywhere in the Pāḷi scriptures. This particular Yankin tale appears to be an example of this.

The Yankin area is famous for a reputed connection to the Buddha: that he was a snakehead fish here in a previous birth. Interestingly, fossil records trace this species back 50 million years to the Himalayan region of northern India, which also happens to be Siddhartha Gautama’s birthplace. The fish eventually migrated into European, African, and Asian waters.

However, in spite of the fact that some people find them an exotic delicacy, overall they are considered a big nuisance, partly because of their rows of small, sharp teeth. They are such an invasive species in the United States that it has been strictly illegal to bring live snakeheads since 2002. The theory is that at some point, someone must have tired of having a few as “pets,” and dumped them into a local waterway. After cleaning that pond or lake of prey, the snakeheads literally marched off in search of new waterways to conquer…on their fins, since they can breathe air for short periods. In this way, they migrated far and wide, wiping out local species as they went, waterway after waterway. This is not dissimilar to another invasive species from the Golden Land, the Burmese Python. After Hurricane Andrew in 1992, the reptile took over Florida’s Everglades and eventually stretched as far to south Texas, and was eventually banned for import in 2012. This has earned snakeheads such monikers as Frankenfish and Fishzilla. They have even wiggled their way into American pop culture, earning a mention on “The Sopranos,” no less, among other things.

Today, while snakeheads are apparently no longer found anywhere near “Snakehead Fish Cave” in Yankin Hill—they exist there still in spirit, through the plethora of statues all around the hill.

Another tale associated with this site took place many centuries ago. King Alaungsithtu, who ruled from Bagan in the 12th century, was concerned about his wayward sons, especially the oldest, named Min Shin Saw. The king sent him to the northern part of the kingdom, where he governed a town near Amarapura. There was a severe drought there and the town’s lake and water tanks had become perilously close to empty; Min Shin Saw began construction of an irrigation system connecting Aung Lake(south of Yankin Hill, although Aung Lake is no more; it has been filled in and transformed into many paddy fields) to the town’s farms. This irrigation system eventually supplied water to over 31,000 fields. But meanwhile, the drought raged on, and knowing the Jātaka Tale told above, Min Shin Saw ordered a large statue constructed of the snakehead fish. The story goes that from these demonstrations of piety, combined with monks reciting and making a collective “vow of truth,” the rains came back and the land once again became fertile. And in this case, when it rains, it pours…local Burmese believe that the rain kept on until the point of flooding, causing the villagers to lug the statues further up the hill so they wouldn’t be inundated. Once the statues reached the top of the hill, the torrential downpour finally ceased. In the years that followed, other snakehead fish statues would similarly be created in times of need, to be stored in the royal palace and brought out during droughts. Due to these seemingly miraculous events, many Burmese believe this is a region favored by the celestial beings, and there has been magical practices happening within the caves of these hills for some time.

Today, snakehead fish statues are found along the path leading up the hill, as are nga yant dwin (ငါးရံ့တြင္), “snakehead fish wells.” Annual festivals are held in June, in hopes of bringing about a good rainy season. These are regularly attended by farmers whose livelihoods are directly impacted by the weather, and the statues also get paraded through the streets of Mandalay.

What Caused the Post-World War II Patipatti Explosion in Burma?

Following is an excerpt from an unpublished draft of Shwe Lan Ga Lay, the meditator's guide to Burma/Myanmar:

It was the postwar period where lay meditation practice really began to take off, a phenomenon that jumpstarted in Burma before spreading and becoming established in neighboring Buddhist countries. 

And in Burma, nowhere was this happening more than at Rangoon’s Sasana Yeiktha Center, where U Nu and other prominent lay leaders brought in Mahasi Sayadaw to establish the new grounds.

Ingrid Jordt, a scholar who spent many years as a nun at Mahasi, captures the excitement and enthusiasm that characterized the early days of this site. She notes that “the laity flocked to the center to practice for enlightenment. The thrill of participating in the mass lay project of enlightenment had never before been so conceived in institutional terms. The center grew around Mahasi in the way that the texts describe laity coming around the Buddha. People vied with one another to have their offerings accepted by him, and new forms of participation emerged: schoolchildren on vacation, night yogis who returned to their offices during the day, retirees, and nuns all immersed themselves in a rigorous schedule of sitting and walking meditation, punctuated by monkly meal offerings at which the laity thronged around the eating tables to observe the project of sasana revitalization happening before their very eyes.”  

And Masoeyin Sayadaw U Theiktha expresses just how it felt at that moment in time to have a genuine practice that one could undertake to follow diligently, after so many years of war and colonization: “It had been a long time that we had become almost unbearable or choking, as it were, for not knowing the real concept or meaning of it. Our happiness knew no bounds when we came to discover the right method relating to the latent ambiguity in the higher aspects of Maha Satipatthana meditation practice.”

And although the non-monastic International Meditation Center led by Sayagyi U Ba Khin may have not seen the same high numbers (and was not state-supported to the same extent), its role and influence were profound. Many of the elites of society attended courses and became deeply affected by their experience, which sometimes manifested even in their work in matters of state. And it was not only the heads of Burma who were attending, but also top politicians other countries, scientists, Supreme Court judges, university professors, and actors. 

As the monastic teacher Maha Gandayon Sayadaw U Janaka put it, “If I were asked what you pray for, my answer is simple. One has to work for himself to get what he wants.” This ethos took over the Burmese people in these years, and can be seen manifested in Sayagyi U Goenka's mission in the following decade (he himself benefited from his patipatti boom as a student during this time). 

Why was it at this very time that the patipatti movement began to flow now as a raging river? There are many theories attempting to answer this, and it may have been the case of several important factors occurring at once, making the conditions ripe for such an undertaking. In the following section, we present no less than twenty possible arguments that have been put forth on this topic.

The Reclining Buddha at U Khanti Monastery.

Burma Pilgrimage #2, Day 8: Travel to Monywa

The following excerpt was written by an American yogi about the pilgrimage in Burma. The first pilgrimage has ended, and the second one has just begun! To read about the previous day, go here. To read about the first pilgrimage group's experience on their own Day 8 towards Monywa, go here. You can also consider joining a later pilgrimage in Burma yourself.

"Today was a travel day to Monywa.

Since the bus did not leave until 10 am, a few of us, accompanied by the European bhante traveling with us, decided to pay respects to Buddha relics at a local temple in Mandalay named U Khanti Monastery.

We were running a little short on time, and it was unclear whether we'd be able to see the relics once we got there, but... things worked out.

As we pulled up in the taxi, the Sayadaw happened to be standing right there. Before we finished paying respects, he disappeared (to unlock the relics). The joy on the bhante's face after the short sit by the relics was infectious..."

For Day 9 in Monwya, go here!