The Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions
Introduction

The Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions (henceforth Subāhu) is a record of a conversation between Vajrapāṇi and the layman Subāhu on a wide range of doctrinal, ethical, ritual, and magical topics. The text is classified as a Kriyātantra and is further categorized as a “general tantra” in the Kriyātantra section of the Kangyur. As a Kriyātantra, the text focuses on an array of ritual practices that are intended to secure physical and mental health, the acquisition of wealth, comfort, and pleasure, and freedom from hostile and disruptive supernatural forces. Because it is a general Kriyātantra, it does not focus on a single deity or ritual system, but rather contains instructions that are applicable in any ritual context explained elsewhere in the Kriyātantras. Vajrapāṇi’s teachings include a body of exoteric instructions to ensure that a practitioner of mantra, a mantrin, is properly oriented in the Mahāyāna as they carry out the elaborate esoteric rituals and transgressive rites outlined in the tantra.

Kriyātantra is the largest category of tantric literature in the Kangyur and consists of a diverse array of texts featuring an extensive pantheon of Buddhist deities and complex ritual practices aimed at both worldly and transcendent goals. The Kriyātantras preserved in the Kangyur are broadly organized into “clans” or “families” (Skt. kula) depending on the deity featured in their respective texts. The tathāgata clan is organized around the maṇḍalas of specific buddhas, including the Uṣṇīṣa class of deities and Pañcarakṣā protectresses. This clan also includes what is perhaps the most well-known and highly regarded work of the Kriyātantra class, the Mañjuśrī­mūlakalpa (Toh 543: ’jam dpal gyi rtsa ba’i rgyud),1 featuring Mañjuśrī. The lotus clan section includes works focused on the tathāgata Amitābha/Amitāyus, as well as on Avalokiteśvara and Hayagrīva. Perhaps the most widely known tantra of this category is the Amoghapāśa­kalpa­rāja (Toh 686: don yod pa’i zhags pa’i cho ga zhib mo’i rgyal po),2 which presents a large body of rites for Avalokiteśvara’s form as Amoghapāśa, the “Unfailing Noose.” The vajra clan section contains texts featuring Vajrapāṇi, the Lord of Yakṣas, including the Bhūtaḍāmara Tantra (Toh 747: ’byung po ’dul ba)3 and the Vajra­pāṇyabhiṣeka Tantra (Toh 496: lag na rdo rje dbang bskur ba). This category of Kriyātantras also includes ritual manuals dedicated to the goddess Tārā and Vajravidāraṇa. Beyond these three primary clan distinctions, the Kriyātantra section of the Kangyur also contains ritual manuals for wealth deities such as Maṇibhadra and Jambhala, rites for enhancement (Skt. pauṣṭika; Tib. rgyas pa) featuring Mekhalā, and an array of miscellaneous works that do not readily fall into a clan-based organization scheme, including those associated with worldly deities. The final category of Kriyātantras preserved in the Kangyur is a “general class” (Tib. bya ba spyi’i rgyud), the texts of which do not focus on any one deity or maṇḍala system, but rather present instructions on rites that can be used in the context of the other Kriyātantra systems. It is in this category that we find The Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions.

As a part of the general class of Kriyātantra, the Subāhu offers a broad ethical and doctrinal framework within which the practices of Kriyātantra should be employed and it describes a variety of rites applicable in a range of clan-based ritual contexts. The Subāhu is somewhat unique among Kriyātantras for its sustained emphasis on the exoteric Mahāyāna principles that should guide mantrins in their practice: the motivation to awaken, showing kindness and compassion to all beings, maintaining rigorous ethics based in prātimokṣa discipline, rejecting hedonistic tendencies through reflection on the impurity of the body, and so forth. These fundamental principles are particularly apt in the context of the Subāhu, as the text outlines some of the most transgressive rites found in the Kriyātantras, including the necromantic practices of bartering human flesh and animating corpses, and divination practices that utilize young children as spirit mediums. The steady oscillation between exoteric and esoteric content grounds the reader in the fundamental principles of the Mahāyāna while exposing them to the range of ritual practices expounded throughout the Kriyātantra corpus.

The Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions shares the short version of its Sanskrit title (Subāhu­paripṛcchā, and its possible English rendering as “Subāhu’s Questions”) with a sūtra in the Heap of Jewels section of the Kangyur, the Subāhu­paripṛcchā,4 which like the tantra is also the record of a conversation between the layman Subāhu and a realized being, in this case the Buddha Śākyamuni. There is not much else that is similar between the two texts, however, so it would appear they were not meant to be understood to take place in the same setting. The sūtra, which is rendered primarily in prose, includes the traditional introductory passage (Skt. nidāna; Tib. gleng gzhi) that establishes the setting for the discourse. In the sūtra, the Buddha is staying at the Bamboo Grove near Rājagṛha, where he is approached by Subāhu and his retinue of servants. Subāhu then poses a question that compels Śākyamuni to offer detailed teachings on the six perfections. Like many Buddhist tantras, the Subāhu­paripṛcchā Tantra lacks the traditional scriptural introduction and is composed entirely in verse. It begins immediately with Subāhu’s questions and offers no information on the setting in which the discourse takes place. We can presume that we are meeting the same Subāhu in the sūtra and the tantra, as many Buddhist scriptures share the same protagonist, but beyond this one detail there is no evidence that these two works were ever regarded as part of the same dialogue or otherwise contextually related.

Vajrapāṇi’s instructions to Subāhu in the tantra unfold over eleven chapters and cover a wide range of exoteric and esoteric topics in a somewhat unstructured and digressive manner. Subāhu speaks very little, asking only a brief series of questions at the outset of the tantra on the efficacy of mantra recitation, and then again in chapter 6 when he wonders about the relevance of fasting as a spiritual practice. In both cases, Subāhu raises doubts about esoteric practice in general, and specifically about its relevance to reaching liberation. The general nature of Subāhu’s questions allows for Vajrapāṇi to offer a general response. Rather than articulating a series of specific rites, presenting a catalog of mantras, and detailing formulas for ritual substances as is typical in the Kriyātantras, Vajrapāṇi instead establishes the doctrinal and ethical basis for mantra practice and outlines the necessary preparatory practices before providing ritual instructions and descriptions of rites that are applicable in a variety of esoteric contexts.

In presenting a general survey of Kriyātantra ritual, the Subāhu grounds itself in key ritual paradigms and ideological orientations that are fundamental to tantric practice in general and the elaborate rites of Kriyātantra specifically. The core ritual paradigm operative in the Subāhu and in many other categories of Buddhist ritual‍—exoteric and esoteric alike‍—is the homa offering: the practice of making repetitive ritual offerings into a fire that is specially prepared for specific ritual purposes. The homa rite is not uniquely Buddhist, but rather is a shared ritual framework that was originally developed within a Vedic context and later evolved to become the basic ritual format for a vast catalog of rituals employed in India’s many religious traditions. The performance of a homa typically involves preliminary steps of purification and preparation for both the practitioner and the ritual space, followed by the building of a ritual fire, the drawing of a maṇḍala, the placement of a central image, and the arrangement of offerings. Once these steps have been completed, the homa is performed wherein the mantrin accumulates a set number of mantra recitations while casting the same number of oblations into the fire. The mantra to be recited and the oblations to be used vary based on the deity being invoked and the purpose of the rite; the Kriyātantras contain a wealth of specific mantras, ritual liturgies, recipes, and formulas to be used within the basic framework of the homa rite.

At the heart of Buddhist tantric rites is the nexus of the practitioner, deity, and mantra. Unlike in tantras of the Yoga (Tib. rnal ’byor), Mahāyoga (Tib. rnal ’byor chen po), and Yoganiruttara (Tib. bla na med pa’i rnal ’byor) classes, the practitioner of Kriyātantra‍—usually called a mantrin, sādhaka, or vidyādhara‍—does not identify themselves with the deity, but rather propitiates the deity as an external agent to bring about a desired goal. This goal, often generically referred to as siddhi, can include the “worldly” siddhis such as flight, invisibility, and so forth, can refer more broadly to the successful outcome of the rite, or can indicate progress toward or the attainment of liberation. Whatever the final goal, the method for reaching it often involves intricately coordinated rituals using a complex menu of ingredients in combination with the core practice of mantra recitation and homa offerings.

An idea essential to this process, and to understanding the Kriyātantras (and the tantras in general), is the complete indivisibility of deity and mantra. A deity is its mantra and the mantra is itself the deity; there is no distinction between them whatsoever. Thus, in esoteric works such as the Subāhu, the term mantra can be read synonymously as “mantra deity” in many contexts. Mantras are classified in various ways and are typically specific to a deity and the ritual purpose for which the deity is being invoked. A broad distinction can be made between a vidyā and a mantra, with the term vidyā reserved for female deities and mantra for male deities, but this categorization is only loosely applied. Often the terms vidyā and mantra are essentially synonymous in Kriyātantra literature. However these terms are understood and differentiated in a given text, the basic structure is the same: when mantrins recite the mantra of a deity, they are directly invoking and instantiating the deity within the framework of the rite. A successful rite is therefore one in which the practitioner and ritual space are properly prepared and the recitation of mantra and the homa performed precisely so that the deity is enjoined to act on the practitioner’s request.

The goals for which a mantrin performs the rites described in the Subāhu and other Kriyātantras are manifold, and there is a distinct emphasis on securing health, safety, and prosperity through magical means. The Subāhu articulates rites for treating physical and mental illnesses, remedying snakebites, exorcising spirits that have taken possession of the body, gaining wealth, procuring pleasures, summoning spirits to act as servants, thwarting enemies both human and supernatural, and using divination to clarify events of the past, present, and future. In many of these ritual applications, a given disease, disruptive influence, or obstructing force is embodied in the form of one of the myriad classes of nonhuman beings that populate the Indic landscape. These beings are often identified using broad categories such as graha, bhūta, vighna, and vināyaka, but can also be referred to more specifically as piśācas, pūtanas, rākṣasas, nāgas, yakṣas and the like. Many of the rites in the Subāhu and other Kriyātantras seek to banish or eradicate such beings to achieve their goal of health and well-being. However, because many of these classes of beings can also be benevolent forces, we find many rites in the Subāhu that call upon such beings to assist the practitioner in achieving their aim. This is especially true of yakṣas and yakṣiṇīs, but can also be true of nāgas, vetālas, and other spirit beings that can be ritually summoned for a variety of purposes. The embodiment of malevolent and benevolent forces as supernatural beings, and using rites to either oppose or cultivate their power, is a central concept in Kriyātantra rites.

Among the diverse rites Vajrapāṇi explains in the Subāhu, two stand out for special attention: the related rites of the bartering of human flesh and corpse animation, and the prasenā divination rite in which a deity is summoned into a reflective surface or the body of a young child. These two rites are treated with exceptional detail in the Subāhu, more so than in other Buddhist works. These rites are not unique to Buddhism, but are mentioned in the scriptures of other religions, including Śaiva5 and Jain sources, and are referenced in the popular secular literature of India. Though these rites are articulated in a distinctively Buddhist framework in the Subāhu, they share much in common with their practice in non-Buddhist sources and serve as compelling evidence of the inter-sectarian ritual repertoire shared by India’s many religious traditions.6

The necromantic practices of animating corpses and bartering human flesh are described at the end of chapter 6 and the beginning of chapter 7 in the Subāhu. Such practices typically feature vetālas, a type of supernatural being that haunts charnel grounds and possesses tremendous power. Among their many powers, they are perhaps most renowned and utilized for their ability to enter and animate corpses, which is perhaps why they are often mischaracterized as “zombies,” as seen in the Tibetan term used to translate vetāla, ro langs, “animated corpse.” Vetālas are much more than that, however, and have earned a special place in Indic lore for their supernatural power and frightful nature. Vetālas feature prominently in Sanskrit and Prakrit literature, including the Harṣacarita, the Kathāsaritsāgara and its famous excerpt, the Vetāla­pañca­viṃśatikā, and in the Jain Vasudevahindi and Kuvalyamāla. A rite very similar to the one found in the Subāhu is reported in an esoteric Śaiva work, the Niśvāsaguhya,7 again pointing to the ritual repertoire shared by Buddhists and Śaivas.8 The Subāhu is not alone among Buddhist scriptures to describe the practice, as similar rites are recorded in the Amogha­pāśakalpa­rāja and referenced in the Vinaya of the Sarvāstivāda school.9

The ritual use of vetālas and corpses can take many forms and serve many purposes in esoteric ritual literature, but in the Subāhu it is primarily used to employ the vetāla-possessed corpse as a servant, or as the catalyst for acquiring the mundane siddhis. The outcome of the Subāhu’s corpse-raising rite is only mentioned briefly, whereas the bulk of the rite’s richly detailed description focuses on identifying the right kind of corpse to use, preparing it for the rite, and ensuring that other types of spirits do not disrupt the process.

Though it follows Vajrapāṇi’s description of the corpse animation rite, the instructions for bartering human flesh appear to be a preliminary activity for the rite. In this practice, the mantrin dices human flesh into small pieces, fills small bowls with them, dresses in a grotesque manner, and wanders through a charnel ground calling out, “Flesh for sale!” with the intention of attracting a vetāla or other spirit for ritual use.10 Vajrapāṇi gives precise instructions on how to negotiate with the vetāla or spirit who appears, and how to protect oneself with mantras to mitigate the dangers inherent in the rite. Like much else in the Subāhu, the instructions for this rite appear to be meant as general instructions that can be applied in the diverse ritual contexts utilizing vetālas and corpses.

Another topic of the Kriyātantras in general and the Subāhu specifically is spirit possession. The possession of the human body by supernatural beings is regarded as a primary cause of disease and mental instability. Thus, a regular purpose of Kriyātantra ritual is to drive them out of the body or otherwise weaken and arrest their influence on an individual. The mode of spirit possession in which a deity or spirit takes possession of a person against their will is known broadly as the “opportunistic” (Skt. āgantuka) mode of possession. The Subāhu provides a list of conditions under which a person might become possessed by a spirit‍—typically referred to as a graha, vighna, or vināyaka‍—and offers a general set of remedies against it. This “involuntary” mode of possession is a common topic in the Kriyātantras, so that many contain specific and elaborate rites to combat it.

There is another mode of spirit possession that is described in detail in the Subāhu: the voluntary possession of a healthy person (Skt. svāsthāveśa) to serve as a medium for the purposes of prognostication.11 While the involuntary mode of possession and remedies against it are well known in esoteric Buddhist literature, descriptions of the use of spirit mediums are much rarer. This body of practices is also known to us through Śaiva and Jain texts, as well as secular literature, and thus appears to be a widespread Indic phenomenon that was assimilated by several religious traditions and their specific ritual systems.

The voluntary method of possession is described in chapter 7 of the Subāhu and includes key features that are shared across religious traditions, specifically the use of a reflective surface in which omens and visions are read and the use of a young boy or girl as the medium of possession who will answer questions about missing items or about the events of the past, present, or future. Though the Subāhu does not use the term, this mode of possession involves a type of spirit or deity known as a prasenā,12 which is invited into the ritual environment by the mantrin. The practice was known in Pali sources, as we find proscriptions against the practice of employing a prasenā (Pali: pañha) in the Brahmajāla Sutta of the Dīghanikāya.13 The rite of prasenā divination appears most frequently in esoteric scriptures, including brief references in the Cakrasaṃvara and Kālacakra corpuses.14 Beyond Buddhist sources, the term prasenā and its variants, as well as descriptions of similar rites, are recorded in the Śaiva Niśvāsaguhya, Tantrasadbhāva, and Jayadratha­yāmala among others, the Jain Paṇhāvāyaraṇa, and works of secular literature including the ninth-century Kapphiṇābhyudaya and the eleventh-century Kalāvilāsa of Kṣemendra. It would appear that the description of prasenā divination in chapter 7 of the Subāhu is one of the most detailed in Indic literature, adding to the great value of this Buddhist scripture among such works.

As indicated by the use of pan-Indic ritual techniques and the inclusion of rites shared in common by other Indic religious communities, the Subāhu specifically, and the Kriyātantras in general, reveal the eclectic and inclusive ritual environment in which esoteric Buddhist teachings were transmitted and practiced. When Vajrapāṇi instructs Subāhu in these practices, he draws not only upon the large body of Buddhist lore, but the collective knowledge transmitted within several of India’s most prominent religious systems. All of the rites expounded in the Subāhu and other Kriyātantras are taught and performed within a distinctly Buddhist framework but draw from a pan-Indic repertoire grounded in the homa rite. This shared ritual foundation allows for rituals developed within one religious tradition to be adapted for use in other religious contexts, a fact that is apparent in the Kriyātantras and the Subāhu in ways both explicit and implicit. Implicitly, we have a wealth of textual evidence that reveals the commonalities between the rites recorded in the Kriyātantras and those employed by other religious communities. Explicitly, the Subāhu and other Kriyātantras openly acknowledge the validity of other mantras and ritual systems, and in some cases declare that Buddhists can adopt the rites and mantras of other religions by assimilating them into established Buddhist frameworks.15 Thus, in studying the Subāhu­paripṛcchā Tantra we not only gain access to the Kriyātantras and their wealth of Buddhist ritual lore, but also open a door into the dynamic and eclectic environment of India’s diverse ritual systems.

The translation presented here is the first complete translation of the Subāhu into English. It is based solely on the translations preserved in the Tibetan canon, with the Degé, Stok Palace, and Phukdrak versions serving as the primary witnesses. The Comparative Edition (dpe bsdur ma) of the Degé translation was also closely consulted. Among the canonical Tibetan translations, the Phukdrak version stands out as a potentially unique witness, as it seems to represent a distinct branch among the extant Tibetan translations. The Phukdrak version was very likely consulted when later versions of the canon were compiled and edited, but differences in terminology and translation style suggest that it preserves an alternate Tibetan translation to the one that served as the primary basis for the versions preserved in other Kangyurs. It is also, unfortunately, the most corrupt of the versions consulted, one rife with errors and omissions that make it impossible to take as the primary basis for an English translation.

Except for the Phukdrak witness, all of the canonical Tibetan versions of the Subāhu lack a translator’s colophon, presenting a challenge for determining the precise date and provenance of the Subāhu’s transmission to Tibet. We can be confident that the translation was produced during Tibet’s Imperial Period, as the translation is recorded in the imperial-period catalogs, the Denkarma (ldan/lhan dkar ma) and Phangthangma (’phang thang ma), which were compiled in the ninth century.16 The translation preserved in the Phukdrak Kangyur uniquely includes a colophon that states that the translation was made by the Indian master Buddhaguhya (ca. second half of the eighth century) and the Tibetan translator Mañjuśrīvarman (ca. eighth century). There is good reason to doubt the veracity of this single record, but it does conform to a general milieu for the Subāhu’s transmission and translation in Tibet that is supported by additional evidence discussed below. The Subāhu­paripṛcchā Tantra was translated into Chinese twice, first by Śubhakarasiṃha 善无畏 in 726 (Taishō 895), and then later by Fatian 法天 sometime in the tenth century (Taishō 896). Given that the earlier translation prepared by Śubhakarasiṃha predates the Tibetan translation by approximately a century, it is reasonable to conclude that the Subāhu­paripṛcchā Tantra was circulating widely in India by at least the beginning of the eighth century, and likely much earlier. There is at present no known Sanskrit witness for the text.

Returning to the question of the Subāhu’s translation and transmission in Tibet, we are on firm footing when dating that process to no later than the mid-ninth century. The strongest evidence we have for this is the inclusion of the translation in the imperial catalogs, but links between the Subāhu and the Indian tantric exegete Buddhaguhya also corroborate that estimation and provide us with additional evidence for the context of its reception and translation. As mentioned above, the Phukdrak version of the Tibetan translation is the only version that includes a translator’s colophon, one that attributes the translation to Buddhaguhya. This attribution is problematic, however, because it is reasonably well-established that Buddhaguhya declined to visit Tibet when invited by King Trisong Detsen.17 The fact that the colophon recorded in the Phukdrak Kangyur is not preserved in other Kangyurs indicates that later compilers and editors did not find this attribution accurate and so excluded it.

Though Buddhaguhya does not seem to have set foot on Tibetan soil himself, he did send his own commentarial works to Tibet instead, and many of his other treatises reached Tibet by other means during the Imperial Period. Among his numerous works that have been translated into Tibetan we find the Summary of the Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions (Toh 2671: Ārya­subāhu­pari­pṛcchānāmatantrapiṇḍārtha; Tib. ’phags pa dpung bzang kyis zhus pa’i rgyud kyi bsdus pa’i don), a short topical outline of the Subāhu. The Tengyur also contains two additional commentaries on the Subāhu, both of which explicitly take Buddhaguhya’s text as their basis. The first of these is the Notes on the Meaning of the Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions (Toh 2672: ’phags pa dpung bzangs kyis zhus pa’i rgyud kyi tshig gi don bshad pa'i brjed byang), which lacks a Sanskrit title, statement of authorship, and translator’s colophon. The commentary, which treats the Subāhu in great detail, opens by stating that its purpose is to elaborate on what Buddhaguhya only summarized. This commentary is recorded in the Denkarma catalog, which dates it to no later than the ninth century, but its lack of Sanskrit title, attribution of authorship, and translator’s colophon suggests the possibility that it was a Tibetan composition intended to augment Buddhaguhya’s commentary, perhaps during the same period the root text was being translated. The third and final commentary on the Subāhu in the Tengyur is the Commentary on the Summary of the Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions (Toh 2673: Ārya­subāhu­pari­pṛcchā­nāma­tantra­piṇḍārtha­vṛtti; Tib. ’phags pa dpung bzangs kyis zhus pa’i rgyud kyi bsdus pa’i don dgrol ba’i brjed byang), which, as suggested by both the title and the opening statement by its author, is also meant to augment the commentary of Buddhaguhya. Though the Commentary on the Summary includes a Sanskrit title, it too lacks a statement of authorship and translator’s colophon, suggesting that it may also be the work of a Tibetan author. Unlike Notes on the Meaning, it is not recorded in the Denkarma or other catalogs, thus the precise circumstances of its authorship are unknown.

Because Notes on the Meaning treats the root text in substantial detail, it is cited frequently in the English translation offered here. The other two commentaries are largely summaries or treatments of tangential topics, and so have not been cited here despite their great value in deciphering the complexities of the The Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions. Careful study and translation of these three commentaries will shed considerable light not only on the enigmatic content of the The Tantra of Subāhu’s Questions, but potentially also on the conditions of its transmission and translation in Tibet.