Page 344 - The Secret Museum
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pageboy has a red chest, red wrists and bits of red showing all over his body.

              A palmleaf manuscript written in 1816 tells how each of the 659 sculptures that

          decorated the thrones, including these four, was carved simultaneously. An astrologer
          had decreed the optimum moment for their creation. Each was carved from beautiful
          trees without blemishes which grew in ‘untainted ground’. Musicians and dancers
          performed while the carvers worked.

              The thrones themselves were adorned with jewels and gilded with gold leaf. Once
          all was ready, ceremonies were performed to encourage lucky deities to move in and
          to keep incumbent spirits happy. Each throne was a focal point during different
          ceremonies throughout the year. As the king sat upon a throne, he would see the

          carvings of the animals upon it and be reminded of his different duties, represented
          by different animals.

              On all four corners of each throne sat a camari, like the one in storage. He was a
          good symbol for the king to have on each throne because it was said that the camari
          was so proud of its bushy tail, it would fight to the death to defend even a single hair
          upon it. The figure on the throne reminded the king to act like the camari, and fight to
          the death for his kingdom and for justice.

              Another thing all the thrones had in common was a row of eight carved, golden,
          naked pageboys standing before it. These pageboys (thu nge daw) each faced the
          king with arms lifted in worship. The whole setting must have been a sight to behold.

          Sometimes, so the story goes, these boys came to life: this was said to have happened
          in 1819, for example, when the boys in front of the Conchshell Throne started
          squabbling, much to the surprise of the courtiers who ‘saw’ it happen.

              What are the bees, the camari and worshipping boy from the Glass Palace doing
          here? I first read about the exiled Burmese royal family in the beautiful novel The
          Glass Palace by Indian writer Amitav Ghosh. I was captivated by the story of King
          Thibaw, his wife Queen Supayalat and their daughters, the princesses, and their
          shocking 30-year exile from Burma, by the British, to Ratnigiri, southern India.

              The king – known as the White Umbrella of State – was undermined, and the

          mystique of the royal family was destroyed. King Thibaw came from a dynasty of
          kings known as the ‘Kings Who Rule the Universe’; they were treasured as demi-
          gods by their subjects. When the royal family left their home, in November 1885, the
          golden figures were taken as trophies by the British Army, then troops were billeted
          inside the palace. Later, during the Second World War, Japanese troops used the
          palace as a supply depot, and the wooden palace was bombed by the Allies and burst
          into flames.

              Only one of the nine thrones has survived, and that is in a museum in Yangon,

          Burma. It’s lucky that these little creatures, memories of a reverential, graceful time,
          were taken out of the palace – probably because they were easy to carry – and made
          it into a museum, where they could be conserved. The British Museum and the Pitt
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