THE FORBIDDEN CITY

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXXI, Issue 4566, 8 November 1937, Page 3

THE FORBIDDEN CITY

EXPLORING LHASA. Lhasa, the secret citadel of the Dalai Lama of Tibet, has long stood shrouded in impenetrable mystery, on the roof of the world, alluring yet defying the curious approach of the stranger, says a writer in the “Daily Telegraph.” This city has tantalised the imagination of generations of travellers as one of the last of the secret places of the earth. Until only a few years ago death by torture was the fate of any foreigner rash enough to penetrate these mountain fastnesses. Even had it not been for the implacable hostility of the Lamas towards all intruders, Lhasa’s situation, nearly 12,000 ft above sealevel, hemmed in behind the almost insurmountable natural barrier of the Himalayas, makes the Forbidden City of Tibet sufficiently inaccessible to be beyond the reach of any but the most determined travellers.

Tibet still lives virtually in the Middle Ages; and Lhasa, its most sacred city, changes little with the centuries. Perched above the rushing torrent of the River Yyichu, and surrounded by barren and inhospitable hills, Lhasa is of no remarkable extent. Roughly circular in shape, its confines are less than one mile in diameter. Crossing the Yutok sampa, the famous turquoise-tiled covered bridge which carries the road from the west to the centre of the city, the pilgrim finds himself in a maze of narrow, unpaved streets, rendered incredibly filthy by their complete innocence of drainage, and rife with pigs and large, mangy dogs. Here in the outer suburbs are to be seen miserable hovels built entirely of the horns of sheep and oxen set in clay mortar. These remarkable architectural specimens are inhabited by Ragyaba, or scavengers, whose noisome occupation is disposing of the dead, according to the Tibetan practice, by cutting up all corpses and exposing them to the dogs and birds of prey. Most of the better houses are of clay and sun-dried bricks, generally whitewashed, their doors and windows being outlined with bands of red and yellow pigment. Lhasa, the Mecca of the Mongolian plateau, is a city of temples and monasteries. Set high upon a rocky ridge above the teeming city, raising its great walls to a height of nine storeys above the summit, crowned with gilded cupolas glinting in the sun, and buttressed on the rough crags over which the long lines of countless banner-decked staircases climb upwards from the plain, stands the Potala, the fortress palace of the man who remains the most essentially mysterious personality in the world. Here, on the lofty terrace before the “Red Palace,” is the Grand Lama’s promenade, and from this great height the Dalai looks down on the crowds of his votaries far below. What secrets lie hidden behind the walls of the Grand Lama’s palace the outer world can only guess; the dark mysteries which take place within its sacred chambers are kept carefully concealed even from the Tibetans themselves. Not far from the base of the Potala Hill, in the centre of a lake, stands the sacred temple of Lu-kang, the “serpent house.” Tradition has it that the site of this temple was once the home of a fearsome dragon, whose spirit must still be propitiated lest it should cause the waters to rise up and flood Lhasa.