Most Iranists are probably acquainted with some of my writings on Iranian chronology and systems of time-reckoning. One of the essential points in my outline of the history of the Iranian calendars is the theory I put forward about the date of the creation of a fixed religious year, co-existing and running parallel with the civil year, which was a vague one. This fixed year, called in Pahlavi literature Vihēǰakīk, was, however, theoretical and without any application in daily life. It was used only by the Zoroastrian clergy for the purpose of ascertaining the original position of the religious festivals and keeping them in or about their astronomical positions. By the ‘original position’ is meant the places these most important religious days occupied in the tropical year at the time of instituting the Vihēǰakīk year, which time may or may not have been the epoch of the initial adoption of the Mazdayasnian or ‘Young Avestan’ civil year in Iran. The date I proposed was 441 B.c., or at any rate some time in the first decade of the second half of the 5th century B.c.

The following text is taken from a MS owned by the monastery of May Anbäsa Kidanä Mәhrät, about 15 km. west of Makalle, on the new road to Hagärä, Sälam. The MS is described by its owners as Mäshafä Wägris, and contains the following items.

The present paper describes a palatographic investigation of Javanese coronal stops. Javanese exhibits stop consonants at both dental and alveolar places of articulation. In the current roman orthography, the dentals are represented by the single letters t, d, while the alveolars are represented by the digraphs th, dh. Thus, for example, titik [titI?] ‘full stop’ contrasts with thithik [titI?] ‘a little’.

The inscriptions published here for the first time were discovered in the course of a visit to Edessa, the modern Urfa, during the summer of 1956. My journey was made possible by generous subventions from the Central Research Funds of the University of London and the Pilgrim Trust Fund administered by the British Academy. It is a pleasure to express here my gratitude not only to those bodies, but also to the officials of the Turkish Department of Antiquities and to the British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, whose ready co-operation greatly facilitated our work in the field; and my sincere thanks are due no less to the energy and perseverance of Dr. D. S. Rice and his assistants Dr. Donald Strong and Mr. Michael Ballance, my companions in the rigours of an Anatolian heat-wave.

The conversion of the Znāga of the western Sahara 1 to Islam may have begun as early as the second/eighth century, but the spread of Arabic as a spoken language in the area began only with the immigration of Arabic-speaking tribes 2 in the eighth/fourteenth century, and the development of many of the conventional Arab and Muslim perspectives which now exist among most tribes of Znāga origin seems to have taken place only during the last two or three centuries.

This article provides a new edition and translation of chapter 25 of the Śāradātilaka(tantra), a compendium on mantraśāstra composed, probably in the twelfth century, by Lakṣmaṇadeśika. The chapter itself presents a type of yoga that combines elements we normally associate with different yoga systems. In particular, we find elements associated with systems usually labelled as haṭhayoga, and elements of mantra practice as well. The chapter also contains references to the methodical knowledge of the rise or predominance of the gross elements (bhūtodaya, also known as svarodaya) and its connection with the six rites of magic. The significance of chapter 25 lies in the fact that it provides us insight into the teachings on yoga in a comparatively early text.

The onomasticon of the Elamite Fortification tablets from Persepolis, so generously placed at the disposal of Professor Benveniste and myself by Professor Hallock, keeps yielding precious pearls. Benveniste published in 1966 those which he had recognized. In the following year I sent to the printer a list of additional identifications, giving notice of more to follow. The present tribute to one of the giants of Iranian studies, whose massive work, countless discoveries, immense erudition, and many tokens of personal friendship have been a constant source of inspiration to me for decades, brings a selection of further identifications, as well as some revision of earlier views. The need to select was dictated by space-limit. An article containing what had here to be omitted, is being timed so as to appear in TPS shortly after the present one.

Scholars seem to be almost unanimous in admitting that there must have existed striking differences between the ritual institutions which are more or less clearly alluded to in the hymns of the Ṛgveda-saṃhitā, and the systematized rituals described and discussed in the brāhmaṇas and ritual sūtras. It has even been surmised that in ṛgvedic times there did not yet exist one elaborated and practically homogeneous ritual system. The probabilities would rather be in favour of the supposition that the chief Vedic families—in the first place those to which we owe some important collections of hymns—performed divine service according to substantially parallel but partly divergent traditions of their own, which, however, did not fail to influence each other. Evidence of these differences is expected from a careful comparison of the relevant facts found in the so-called family books of the Ṛgveda.

1. Analysis of al-Jabartț's account Al-Jabartī's chronicle, ‘Ajā’ib al-āthār fi'l-tarājim wa'l-akhbār formally begins with the year 1100/1688–9 (p. 24 of the first volume of the BŪlāq edition). He precedes his annals, however, with an introduction, of which the last part (p. 20, line 23–p. 24, line 4) is concerned with Ottoman Egypt from the time of the conquest by Sellm I to the beginning of the twelfth Hijrī century.

WHEN my translation of the Hudud Al-' Ālam was published in 1937, it was found impossible to swell the book1 by further remarks on the language of the Persian original, and I promised (p. xii) to deal with this problem at a later date. On the other hand, the quarter of a century which has elapsed since I began my work on the Hudud has brought a considerable number of new facts bearing on the interpretation of the data which I was trying to explain. In various ways my work has been continued, both in the articles which can be considered as a by-product of the Hudud2 and in contributions on fresh but cognate texts.3 The object of my present article is to bring the book up to date by integrating my own research and by completing it with references to the studies of other scholars.

The discovery that a number of classical particles originated by the fusion of other, generally better understood, words, has already contributed a great deal to the understanding of eariy Chinese literature. The examples of such contraction which can already be taken as reasonably certain are:—

The exposition of different deity mantras forms an essential part of Tantric compendia. A mantra, a combination of letters thought to be of divine origin, is transmitted by a preceptor to a disciple in an initiation ritual whereby the disciple is authorized to practise its ritual repetition and strive for its perfection in order to attain supernatural powers. The different stages of the process from the selection of the mantra by the preceptor to its employment in desire–oriented rites by the practitioner shall be described in this paper mainly on the basis of chapters 15 and 16 of the Kulārṇavatantra (= KT), one of the most important texts of the Kaula School of Tantrism, written between the eleventh and fifteenth centuries A.D. These chapters were written at a stage when the technicalities of mantraśāstra had been fully developed and were widely accepted. Among other texts consulted were the Śāradātilakatantra (= ŚT) by Lakṣmaṇa Deśikendra with Rāghavabhaṭṭa's commentary entitled Padārthādarśa (= PĀ) (A.D. 1494), the Mantramahodadhi (= MM) by Mahīdhara (A.D. 1588/89) and the Tantrarāja(tantra) (= TR) with the commentary Manoramā (A.D. 1603/04).

Aύana has been referred to Skt. āpana, but there is nothing to suggest that it means “market” or “bazaar”. On the contrary, it is clear from the documents that it means “village”, “parish”, or “local township”, i.e. the small country towns or villages administratively dependent on Caota, the capital of the province. Further, -ύ- (= w) almost always occurs, not -v- which we would have expected out of an original -p-. It is possible, of course, that āpana might have been used in an extended sense “market-town”, but it can be explained perhaps easier out of Iranian. O.P. āvahana, Arm. lw. avan, both meaning “village”.

The story of Sudhana is one of the most popular of the avadānas of Northern Hīnayāna Buddhism. There are two main versions of this story, one adopted by the Mahāsanghika school and the other by the mūla-Sarvāstivāda school. The former is preserved in the Mahāvastu under the title Kinnarījātaka, and a similar version of this story is found in a Chinese collection called Liu-tu-chi-ching ‘Collection [of tales to illustrate] the six pāramitās’, said to have been translated in approximately A.D. 270 (Taishō Tripiṭaka, in, no. 152, 44 f.) and accessible to us in Chavannes's Tripitạka (Cinq cents contes et apologues, no. 80). The mūla-Sarvāstivāda redaction is found in a Vinaya text of that school called the Bhaiṣajya-vastu. It was translated by I-ching and is referred to as Ken pen chouo … by Chavannes (iv, 133).

When we contemplate the extraordinary diversity of doctrine which has developed from the teaching in the sixth century B.C. of the Buddha, it is perhaps the most natural conclusion that it is really impracticable to discover with any precision the doctrine which in fact he expounded. This view, however, is naturally disappointing, and it is easy to sympathize with the energetic efforts of Professor Stcherbatsky in his works on The Central Conception of Buddhism and The Conception of Buddhist Nirvāṇa to ascribe to the founder of the faith a definite system, inspired by an intelligible philsophy, which again can be regarded as arising naturally from the spiritual ferment of his time among the non-brahmanical classes of India. Incidentally we may doubt the restriction of the ferment to these classes and believe that the Brahmans played, as they have normally and regularly done, a leading part of this activity, though we need not claim that their speculations powerfully affected the Buddha. In fact, Professor Stcherbatsky elsewhere admits that in the Buddha's time the Brahmanical community was mentally alert.

Before he became a professional linguist, Wilfred Whiteley was employed in anthropological research by the then Government of Tanganyika in the Southern Province of that Territory (1948–51). In 1949 he was requested to investigate the customary law on chiefly succession in the Njelu Ngoni chiefdom of Songea District, where dispute had arisen over the appointment of a new chief. In 1952–3 I was asked to continue and to widen those inquiries, both as part of a general anthropological survey and because a succession dispute had developed in the other Ngoni chiefdom in the same District. Whiteley had left a brief memorandum and a few notes which I was able to use as a starting-point. Some of the resulting data have been published elsewhere (Gulliver, 1954, 1955, and 1971). It is fitting, however, to return to those materials in memory of my old friend and colleague, and as a reminder of his sustained interest in social anthropology.

Philological studies in Africa are inevitably bound up with the vexed question of the classification of its languages. Many authorities have attempted this classification. Some, like Oust, Drexel, Delafosse, van Bulck, rely on evidence which is as much ethnological as linguistic, while others, like Müller, Meinhof, Westermann, Werner, Sir Harry Johnston, Guthrie, Homburger, Greenberg, and the various authors of the ‘Handbook of African Languages’, have tried to confine themselves to linguistic criteria. It is the purpose of this article to discuss the sort of linguistic data these investigators have consulted, and their methods of using it.

Writing about life in Mecca in 1884–5 Professor C. Snouck Hurgronje made this observation: ”A class of Jâwah who dwell outside the geographical boundaries but who in late years have made regular pilgrimages to Mekka are people from the Cape of Good Hope. They are derived from Malays, formerly brought to the Cape by the Dutch, with a small mixture of Dutch blood. Some words of their Malay speech have passed into the strange, clipped Dutch dialect of the Boers. On the other hand they have exchanged their mother tongue for Cape Dutch, of course retaining many Malay expressions. Taking into consideration the genuinely Dutch names of many of these Ahl Kâf (as they are called in Mekka) one is tempted to believe that degenerated Dutch have been drawn by them into their religion, and many types among them increase the probability of this suggestion. Separated from intercourse with other Moslims they would scarcely have had the moral strength to hold their religion had not eager co-religionists come to them from abroad. When and whence these came is not known to me; however this may be, the mosques in Cape Colony have been more fervently supported in the last twenty years than ever before, more trouble is taken in teaching religion and every year some of the Ahl Kâf fare on pilgrimage to the Holy City.“

In the Journal Asiatique for 1941–2 my friend the late Professor Sten Konow published an article entitled Une nouvelle forme aberrante de khotanais. This new type of Iranian is contained in the document P 410 brought back by the late Paul Pelliot from Tumšq, a ruined site near the modern Maralbashi.

For the study of the history of this region all the materials, unfortunately often fragmentary, which the various expeditions have recovered for us have proved and are still proving of great importance. The present Tumšuq fragment is a notable addition to this material.

Sten Konow gave with his study a facsimile of the MS. fragment, a transliteration (in which he had enjoyed the assistance of J. Filliozat) and a tentative translation, together with a glossary of the words according to his readings. Six years later he turned again to the document and in the Norsk Tidsskrift for Sprogvidenskap 14 (1947), pp. 156 ff., he published a second study of the document. It is a pleasure to recognize the merit of these pioneer studies, but neither could be considered as providing a clear interpretation. In one point, the reading of ai, the incorrect at is kept in the second study, although in the glossary to the first study J. Filliozat had pointed out that the sign was properly au.

The document is vitally important for Iranian dialectical studies. Hence a new treatment is well justified. The recognition that the document contains a type of Buddhist ordination service changed the whole problem of its interpretation.

The existence of M Sogd. prqyš- ‘to imprison’, past stem prkšṯ-, and the meaning of the associated B Sogd. noun prk'š ‘imprisonment’ were first established by Henning in 1936. Later he recognized also the equivalent Parth. verb prg'c- ‘to incarcerate’. For the alternation between š and č he compared NP āγōš: Parth. 'gwc (‘side’) and MP āgustan <*ākuštan: Sogd. ākōč-/ākuγd- (‘to suspend’), remarking that ‘the discrepancy is found only in syllables that begin with k- and is therefore probably due to assimilation or dissimilation’.