An interview with
Géza Bethlenfalvy
Position & Affiliation: Professor Emeritus of Tibetology at Eötvös Loránd University (ELTE), Budapest
Date: April 15, 2017 in Budapest, Hungary
Interviewed by: Imola Atkins (conducted in Hungarian and translated by Imola Atkins)
Cite this archive

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this interview are those of the interviewee and do not necessarily represent the official position of the Oral History of Tibetan Studies project.
List of Acronyms: GB= Géza Bethlenfalvy, IN= Interviewer
Interview conducted in Hungarian. Translated by Imola Atkins.
University and life in Hungary in the 1950s and 1960s
IN: When was your admissions interview?
GB: At about the beginning of the 1950s. I was born in ’36, so ’46, ’56. Sometime in the middle of the 1950s.
I took my end of school exams in ’58, I think. I was born in ’36, or I don’t even know when. No, I was born in a different way. Anyway.
IN: Did communism make your admission to university more difficult?
GB: They didn’t want to admit me at my interview because I came from a family of landowners, and not from a working-class family. Because of that they didn’t accept me. Meanwhile I had already worked for two years, I worked as a hospital porter. We ended up in Mosonmagyaróvár. My mother was from Mosonmagyaróvár and we went back there because we couldn’t go up to Felvidék (Hungarian term for the area of present-day Slovakia, which used to be part of Hungary). I don’t know when this was, I don’t know these dates any more.
IN: What was the atmosphere like at the university then?
GB: Mixed, it was all sorts. They didn’t accept me easily, but then I did get into university. I was admitted to the Russian Faculty.
Soon after I met József Vekerdi in the corridor—the person who accepted me—and he asked me what I was doing. I said that I am studying Russian. And he said, “Have you not tried something else as well?” I said, “Sure, I went to see the Chinese Faculty—I didn’t really like it—and also the Arabic Faculty.” And he said, “Why haven’t you gone to the Indology Faculty?” I said because there is no Indology. And he said, “Just go anyway”.
The Indology Faculty was approved on 23rd October 1956 (the same date as the Hungarian revolution, an important date in the minds of Hungarians). So I came into being on that meeting. I went to see [János] Harmatta—who was the head of the faculty—and he admitted me to Indology. Well, I was the only Indologist for years. They even kicked me out two years later from the university because my friends and I got up to all sorts of mischief.
In ’57 we walked along the same road as the students in ’56, [we] walked along the Kiskörút (small ring road in Budapest) and across the bridge and then to the Radio. “We’re going to the Radio: Join us if you are Hungarian!” They were shouting this from a truck. So I went to the Radio. Then when they shot someone, I took him away. I had worked in an operating theatre before, so I took him, bandaged him up, then I went home. Anyway, this was what happened in ’56. There were all sorts of things.
IN: Was there lots of turmoil?
GB: Of course. That’s right. The Russians also came in then. First the Hungarians, they shot into the air. But the Russians were already in the crowd, too. At the Radio there were men from the AVO (Hungarian State Protection Authority), they were the ones who shot into the crowd. And then they hit someone, and I took that person into the university. That was also where the Humanities Faculty is today. I just went in at the back, bandaged him up, and then I went to the Eötvös college. I lived there at the time. Do you know where the Eötvös college is, where it was? Above Moszkva square. Not Moszkva, somewhere up there.
IN: Was it difficult to continue your studies?
GB: It was. It was difficult. But fortunately, I always managed.
IN: When did the events start to calm down?
GB: This was under [János] Kádár, wasn’t it? Kádár came in, then he calmed down the events a little. But he wasn’t exactly a decent bloke either. And in the end, it was only at the beginning of the 1980s—end of the 1970s, beginning of the 1980s—that everything calmed down.
IN: Could you also feel that things had changed at the university, too?
GB: Of course, one could already foresee that. Change had to take place at the university.
IN: What kind of changes?
GB: It got a little better. At the university there came a positive change. In the 1980s serious changes took place, at the very beginning of the 1980s. I was already there then. Lajos Ligeti was my boss. Then I went abroad. Ligeti didn’t like it that we travelled, but I still went to Mongolia, first. And then later, one year later, to India, and at that time to teach Hungarian in India. I taught Hungarian in India.
IN: To whom?
GB: Whoever applied. Not many. One of my students is still here. He works at the embassy. He got a scholarship from me. He married a Hungarian girl here and now he lives here. He’s called Sharma Bhushan.
Research and travel in Mongolia
IN: When did you first go to Mongolia?
GB: I first went there in the beginning of the 1970s. I’ve been many times to Mongolia. Mongolia also plays an important role for me. At that time in Mongolia communism was still big, but people were Buddhists at heart.
I was interested in the Buddhist things in Mongolia, so I used to visit the basement of the academy’s library, where there were Buddhist books. There was a place called dzah where one could buy anything, because this dzah was a kind of flea market. And there was a section where one could buy Tibetan books, too. I bought the Tibetan books there in Mongolia.
IN: Did you start to study these on your own?
GB: I started to study them, yes. I was already working with Tibetan then. Ligeti liked that I was interested in Tibetan, and I did that.
IN: Was it Ligeti who first suggested Tibetology to you?
GB: Yes. I started to engage with Tibetan seriously. I never learned Mongolian properly, only Tibetan. Ligeti wrote a catalogue of Mongolian books, and in that the Sanskrit names of each book also appears—the Tibetan and Sanskrit—and the Sanskrit names had many mistakes. And so, he was very happy that I was at the faculty, because I was an Indologist and I could correct him. So this was also a thing.
IN: What was his main field?
GB: Ligeti’s? Mongolian.
IN: Right. And did he have a big influence on Mongolian studies?
GB: He was a very important Mongolist. That’s right.
IN: And you could help him with the Sanskrit?
GB: He wasn’t familiar with Sanskrit. I corrected his mistakes in Sanskrit in his catalogue because I graduated in Indology.
IN: Were you the only Indologist?
GB: At first I was alone, but there were other Indologists. Later there were Indologists, of course.
IN: Who did you learn Indology with?
GB: The Indology Faculty existed. János Harmatta was the head of the faculty and Csaba Töttössy was, who also already knew Sanskrit, and the two of them taught me when I was alone. Then later there were other Indologists, too. But at first it was them, the two of them taught me.
IN: When did you switch from Russian?
GB: I studied Russian for two years. I took the basic exam and passed. But by then I was only doing Hungarian and Indology because I took care of the Russian. That wasn’t something important for me. I liked it, and I still have Russian lady friends. In Mongolia Russian was very useful, I could talk to people in Russian there. I didn’t know Mongolian. I never learned Mongolian properly.
IN: What was it like going to Mongolia for the first time?
GB: It was a great experience. It wasn’t easy but I managed to go. There were times when I went, and also came back, by train. The journey took many days: it was five days or six days to Moscow and from Moscow two days by train. It was quite a serious journey. First like this, then later we travelled by airplane. That was easier.
IN: Were there occasions when you didn’t travel alone?
GB: It happened occasionally, but not with my girlfriends. Most of the time I travelled alone when I went to Mongolia.
IN: What kind of Tibetan books did you find in those markets?
GB: Proper Tibetan books. I can show you some if you’re interested?
IN: Please.
GB: This is the Tibetan writing, rJe btsun dam pa kun dga’ chos legs kyi etc. You can read this. Kun dga’ Chos legs kyi rnam thar: the biography of Künga Chölek. This was [Sándor] Csoma’s teacher, Künga Chölek.
IN: Amazing!
GB: These are quite special. And these are handwritten texts.
IN: And is this from Mongolia?
GB: No. I bought this in India around the area where Csoma lived and worked. I brought it from India. If you like you can take a look at it.
IN: Thank you.
GB: Be careful.
Research and travel in India, links with Sándor Kőrösi Csoma
IN: Did you meet people in India who were associated with Csoma?
GB: I didn’t meet Csoma. He was dead by then.
Of course, I met people who lived there. For example, Sangyé Puntsok, his grandchild is alive. Sangyé Puntsok taught Csoma, he was his teacher. And his grandchild still lives there. We became friends.
IN: Where is this?
GB: It’s in Ladakh. This area is called Zanskar. Zanskar is where Csoma lived and worked, and these people also live there.
IN: Did you communicate with them in Tibetan?
GB: No. In English or something.
IN: They understood English?
GB: I had learned Hindustani, the Hindustani language. Hindi, the Indian language. I learned that, so the way Indians talk to each other.
I spoke with them either in Hindustani or in English. Whoever didn’t know English I spoke with in Hindustani. I can’t speak Tibetan; I can only read it and I understand it. I have a dictionary. But I can’t speak [it], I never learned the spoken language.
IN: Did you learn Hindustani while you were in India?
GB: I had learned that. I already started learning [it] here. I had already begun studying Hindustani at the Indology Faculty. There was a teacher here who knew Hindustani well. Then one year he also joined the university, Árpád Debreceni, and I learned Hindustani from him, here at the university in Hungary.
IN: What is this writing about?
GB: This is about the life of Sangyé Puntsok, who was Csoma’s teacher. It was written after he had already died.
IN: Where was this kept? Who had it?
GB: There people don’t throw these things away. Once they write it, they’ll keep it. I was able to buy it from someone. It’s not so easy, but because they saw that I was interested, and I gave money…
IN: That helps.
GB: They sold it. But this one, for example, I think I bought at a monastery. The place it was written at had more copies and I bought this one.
IN: It’s very nicely written.
GB: The title is: Jétsün (rje btsun), venerable; lama (bla ma)—that means excellent person; Künga Chölek. That is his name, Künga Chölek.
IN: So he was a famous teacher presumably?
GB: Yes. Künga Chölek was a man of good repute. An Englishman called [William] Moorcroft got to know Csoma. And Moorcroft recommended him to Csoma because this teacher had previously been to Tibet, so he knew that this will be a good person for Csoma. This is how they got together.
Moorcroft was a very excellent man. He was also a doctor. He wanted to go to Tibet but couldn’t because the border was closed. And Csoma couldn’t go there either. He went that way because he wanted to go to Mongolia—through Tibet—where the ancestors of the Hungarians lived—somewhere around Mongolia, somewhere in the south, to the east, west of Mongolia. But he couldn’t go across Tibet because Tibet was closed off right up until now. And Moorcroft wanted to cross, too, but he couldn’t either. So, he came back and afterwards he went to Kolkata and lived there, Csoma.
IN: How long did he live in Kolkata for?
GB: 10 or 12 years. Not just in Kolkata, he travelled around. He walked to Kolkata on foot and lived there for quite a while. He looked at the Tibetan manuscripts and sorted them. This was in the beginning of the 1800s. Csoma was born in 1784. So it was already the first decade of the 1800s, when he was there.
IN: So he hadn’t learned Tibetan when he was back here, but started then?
GB: Well, he learned Tibetan from, what’s his name. Moorcroft told him to, and then he learned, and made the first dictionary, a grammar book, and wrote essays on Tibetan literature.
Studying Sanskrit and Tibetan at University
IN: Did you study from any of those? I mean, when you were at university were those books still in use?
GB: At university I learned Sanskrit.
IN: Of course.
GB: Later when I was transferred to Ligeti he said that he wanted to use Sanskrit and that I should also learn Tibetan. He didn’t really know Tibetan, but he said I should learn. So I studied it for half a year. After that I was teaching it.
IN: You studied the books Csoma wrote? or were there others?
GB: No. All sorts wrote books. I didn’t really have an interest in Csoma then. I got this much later. One could learn Tibetan.
IN: And how, or from what?
GB: Well, from Tibetan books. There are loads of books.
This is a written language, so based on the writing one can read these. So we have yowa mé zhin (g.yo ba med bzhin)—this is one word. This is the letter ‘o’. This is how you read it. And Csoma made the first dictionary of this—a serious dictionary. Well, people had already made dictionaries before him—various Italians who had been to Mongolia or China—but Csoma made the first big dictionary. I’ll show you.
Well? Third letter in the Tibetan alphabet. Postpositions, etc. Have a look. He didn’t do it quite right, poor Csoma, because he didn’t know how to spell Tibetan. He arranged the dictionary according to the first letter of the word, but that’s not necessarily an important letter, so he didn’t do it right. But they made an index for it.
I don’t know if you know, but ‘essay’ means a study to a dictionary. Tibetan and English. Prepared by Alexander Csoma de Kőrös, defended by his assistant Sangyé Phuntsog. This is a current edition but it’s exactly the same—inside it’s the same. This is the same only it’s there in Tibetan, too: Kőrösi Csoma Sándor, and here is Sangyé Phuntsok. Here it says, “Prepared by Sangyé Phuntsog and assisted Kőrösi Csoma.”
IN: Yes. Have you been reading or working on this recently?
GB: I haven’t looked at this recently. It was with the Csoma related things.
Cataloguing the Urga Kangyur (Bka’ ‘gyur)
IN: Are you working on anything Tibetan related now?
GB: No. Occasionally it happens that I write something on Amrita [Sher-Gil] (a Hungarian-Indian avant-garde painter) or the Brunners (Erzsébet Sass-Brunner and her daughter, Erzsébet Brunner, were Hungarian painters who travelled to India)—whatever they ask. Now I’m already 82. I’m old. I don’t write books anymore. Books I’ve already written in the past. I’ll show you one of them which happens to be right here.
The Kagyur (Bka’ ‘gyur) is their holy book, the Bible, and Urga is Ulaanbaatar. Urga, that was its old name. Urga Kagyur. Sangyé kyi dökyi chokyi yigé (Sangs rgyas kyi ‘dod kyi chogs kyi yi ge), this is the Tibetan title.
There’s an explanation to it—to know what’s what; who did what. Arja Dharmaraja, this is the Sanskrit title. Pakpa chö (Phags pa chos), this is the Tibetan. And there it says which other catalogues also has it. Tohoku: that’s a famous catalogue. So, it’s like this.
IN: This must have been a lot of work.
GB: It was a lot of work, yes. I had to go through all of them—I don’t know how many.
Here are the Tibetan titles. I’ll show you: Here I put Index of Tibetan Titles. I did it just like the Tibetans so you can find the Tibetan. 1082nd, 332nd. These are the Tibetan titles, Sangyé Dorjé (Sangs rgyes rdo rje). Then here you have Mistakes, which, where there are any, I wrote in the back. This is the karchak (dkar chag), [it] means bibliography, and I had a look at it, and I copied this out from here. These have the same ones, but I changed this. It isn’t that easy. And then I added this and that. Lokesh wrote some kind of an introduction or afterword to it. Lokesh Chandra. Identification of typeless texts in the Chinese Tipitaka.
This is a catalogue and there was another there in Mongolia. A Hand-list of the Ulan Bator Manuscript of the Kanjur Rgyal-rtse Them-spans-ma. I wrote this, too. This is just an introduction to it: how it came about. This Kagyur catalogue is about 200 years earlier. The catalogue also describes this one. This Urga was one of the last Kagyur editions. This was written by a master who lived earlier, in the 1700s.
These all are Tibetan canon catalogues above. These are dictionaries and the like, manuals, dictionaries, Tibetan literature. The catalogues of various Kagyurs. I compared these. It’s not so easy to make such a Kagyur catalogue.
IN: I see now it must have been a huge job.
GB: This is also a job. I worked on it for a year, or two. I don’t know.
There’s a huge [amount of] material out there. The Kagyur is made up of around 110 or 130 volumes of books. The catalogue only brings the titles. There are about 1000 volumes and there are some that are two pages, there are some that are 30 pages, there are some that are 100 pages. So various books that are indicated here by a title, but one doesn’t know how many pages they consist of. The whole Kagyur is about, as I said, it’s a very serious collection.
IN: Right. On what is this based?
GB: They [had] already made a Kagyur catalogue. They made a catalogue in Ulaanbaatar, they had one. There were more places with complete collections like this. The Urga Kagyur was printed in 1912, and then they printed more of the Kagyur, and earlier, even earlier, there were others, too. So there are various Kagyurs. Kagyur means the Bible.
The 1912 print: that was when the Kagyur was printed, and the catalogue of that is my work.
IN: When it was printed was there no systematic list made about what it contains?
GB: No. The Kagyur is definite, it’s arranged in terms of content. First there are the disciplinary rules, then there are various topics, e.g., tantras. That’s the last one, the tantras. They are sorted this way.
First there is the Vinaya, which is the disciplinary rule. Then comes—you can see it in my catalogue, too. Parchin (phar phyin; paramita), this is a further chapter of the Kagyur. Pelpoché (phal po che), this, too, this is the Dodé (mdo sde; sutras). These are the parts of the Kagyur. Sherchin (sher phyin; Prajñāpāramitā). 14th volume. Dülwa (‘dul ba; Vinaya), this is the first volume. Then in this Dülwa there are I don’t know how many volumes. 12 volumes, 13 volumes. Then comes the Sherchin, Parchin, and at the end here is the Gyübum (rgyud ‘bum). Gyü is tantra.
The Kagyurs are put together this way, so according to topic. And the sense in which, say the Vinaya, the first volume, is spoken by the Buddha himself. The other ones are spoken by God knows who. You’ll learn the ins and outs of Tibetology!
Teaching at Delhi University and memories of Lokesh Chandra
IN: Do you know Lokesh Chandra?
GB: I know him well. He’s still alive. In India. He’s about my age, or a year older than me, or two. I don’t know. He doesn’t work very much now.
When I first went to India, the first thing I did was find him. And, well, I’ve been to his place many times, and we are good friends, I can say this. Well, we aren’t friends, but actually he helped me, and he published the books. He’s a big book-publisher. He’s published around 700 volumes of books. This is the 600th volume. He published mine as well. Only the Kagyur catalogue, and he wrote a foreword to it to make it even more interesting.
I met him when I was out there. He hardly speaks anymore but he’s fine. He lives with a girl, who is a very young lady, and now she does the things. His wife died very early. He had a wife, but she died very early on. He has one or two Kagyurs himself. He’s been to Mongolia, and he’s been everywhere where one needs to go. He’s been here in Hungary, too.
IN: So, at Delhi university he was…
GB: I also taught at Delhi University for six years, Hungarian. I was the head of the Delhi Hungarian Institute for six years. There’s a Hungarian institute there (Hungarian Centre), and I was also the head of that for six years, later, from 1994 to 2000. Before that, again for around six years. Not directly, in between I came home.
IN: Did there develop a good relationship between the Hungarian universities and the Indian universities?
GB: There probably is some relationship—it’s not very important. There are personal relationships. So no, there isn’t that kind of a relationship. There’s not a specific relationship, but Hungarians go out there and they also come here. Here, too, there’s an Indian-Tibetan teaching at the Humanities Faculty. There are those who’ve settled here and live here. And there are Indians, I’ve already mentioned Sharma Bhusan, he studied Hungarian with me, got a scholarship, married a Hungarian girl, and now he works at the Indian embassy. And there are people like this, so there are various relationships.
And my ex-wife, who I was with first in India. I have two older 40-year-old children with her, and grandchildren. She lives in India, and now she teaches Hungarian. She was here not long ago, and we get on very well now as well. Only we divorced along the way, and I married somebody else.
IN: What was it like working there?
GB: Mixed. Sometimes I had two students, sometimes three, sometimes 30. So it varied like this. Now they teach at two places. My wife—my ex-wife—teaches at the university and the Hungarian Institute. There is a Hungarian course there, too, and sometimes there are 30 people, sometimes 50, sometimes four. So not that many but still there are some.
Academia under communism
IN: What was it like being in the academic world during communism?
GB: It wasn’t easy, but yes, that also happened. You shouldn’t be asking this from me because I wasn’t a good sort during communism. They didn’t like me because, how do you say it, we came from a bad family during the time of the communists, so they didn’t want to admit me to university and all that. There was this kind of difficulty during communism, but then accidentally, due to luck, I managed to get in anyway. I even got a good job. You could do everything, in communism there were also very nice people.
Mongolia, of course, had a strict communist regime, under Russian influence, but the people were Buddhists still, and, well, they were very kind and they helped. Here, too, they didn’t admit me to university for two years. I worked at various hospitals and here and there, but eventually they did admit me, through luck and I don’t know what. So, one needed some kind of luck for everything. But I had acquaintances who never got into university, it didn’t work out. During communism if someone wasn’t a good person then that was very bad for him. So communism was a system like this.
I’ve just been reading this book, the chief communist, György Aczél, who was a big boss, how kind he also could be. So it depends on people, and, well, one doesn’t necessarily manage to meet good people, but you might happen to meet a good person. So in communism also there were very diverse things. In Russia, too, [Nikita] Khrushchev was a good guy, but occasionally he also did atrocities. One couldn’t predict, that was the whole thing.
There were all sorts of things. Communism could be used. If somebody was an evil person he used it, if he wanted to eliminate somebody, he eliminated them.
IN: Later you became a member of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences?
GB: I didn’t become a member of the academy; I wasn’t an academic, no. I don’t know why that’s there, but it doesn’t matter. I worked for one of the groups at the academy. Ligeti was an academic. He was the second person at the academy: he was a serious person.
IN: You taught at Eötvös Lóránd University (ELTE)?
GB: I taught at Eötvös Lóránd University. There, too, I worked in an academic research group. Ligeti couldn’t employ me properly either, because I wasn’t a good enough comrade.
IN: Ah, so there were such things?
GB: Of course. I wasn’t a good comrade, so they slagged him off for employing me. “Why did you employ this Bethlenfalvy?” He said: because I wanted to employ him. And he didn’t let them fire me. They admitted me—he admitted me—and then a guy asked him… came to him and said, “didn’t you read, Professor, his biography?” He said: it doesn’t matter, I’ve already accepted him. I’m not making changes. I’ve admitted him, so that’s it. He could do it because he had quite a high position at the academy, but I wasn’t admitted to the academy, rather a research group of the academy.
The Kőrösi Csoma Society
IN: And the Kőrösi Csoma group?
GB: Society. Kőrösi Csoma Society. I partly founded it.
Anyway, I’m not a professor either. I was invited to teach in Vienna and there they wrote in front of my name: Professor Bethlenfalvy. I, too, write it like this, ever since. But I was never a professor.
IN: Did you have many students?
GB: I had some, yes. In Vienna, too, here and there. Even in India I had many.
IN: When was the Kőrösi Csoma Society established?
GB: I don’t remember exactly. It was when I was there with Ligeti—when I was already at the university, we established the Csoma Society then. We published various books, and now, too, books are constantly being published. Kőrösi Csoma Library: that also I might have established at some point. The first volumes I published myself.
IN: Did this society include people coming together to have discussions?
GB: We had meetings. Every month we had a meeting: Tuesday at five. The meetings were then, Tuesday at five. This took place monthly except for in the summer. It was advertised, and the members were invited. Anybody could come, but the members got invites. This was the Kőrösi Csoma Society. Not Sándor Kőrösi Csoma, we left that out because that would be too long. It was Kőrösi Csoma Society.
IN: So this was independent of the university?
GB: It was independent. It was a separate circle, but the people were at the university. It’s there now, too, at ELTE.
IN: And the Kőrösi Csoma award?
GB: What? I got an award?
IN: In 1991.
GB: I don’t know why I got it. Well, because it had to be given to somebody, and so they gave it to me.
Research and travel in India (part II)
IN: What was it like in India for the first time? Has it changed a lot?
GB: It has changed a lot, yes. I’ve been to India many times. Twice for six years: once I was teaching, once I was a director. But I’ve also been out there once or twice since.
The very first time I only went for three months. I always received grants. One could apply for these, and then if you received one then somebody paid for it—I could never pay for my travel costs. One always had to apply to departments, to this and that, one could apply somewhere. And with various ideas. Once I went to make a film with a guy, Bonta—we applied for that—and then I don’t know who gave money for that, so that the travel costs of the two of us there and back were paid for. And then we could be there for two months, or one month, or a week, or something. And we went to Zanskar, in the Himalayas, to various places, and this guy Bonta was filming there, too.
IN: Did you make many friends during these trips?
GB: I made friends, of course. One always meets people and gets to know some better, others less well. There are excellent people. There’s a lady called Kapila Vatsyayan, who by now is around 100. She was also one of these people. And at times Lokesh Chandra helped me. One gets to know various people, and then you do something in order for there to be something. They are also interested in being friends with somebody who they can do things with, who they can be with.
When I was out there as director, I always used to invite various people: Hungarians, Indians etc. We organised exhibitions at our place. I organised an exhibition at the institute for the Brunners. Indira wasn’t alive by then, of course, so with them I didn’t have this kind of relationship. Indira’s husband remained in India. I wanted to go to see him, but by the time I was able to go he also wasn’t alive.
The person who gave me these pictures—his name is there—became a good friend. He has pictures of Indira; he has pictures of Amrita; pictures related to Amrita—because his wife was Amrita’s younger sister. So, loads of pictures ended up with them, which they partly, or mostly, gave to the Indian museum. They didn’t give any to Hungarian museums, sadly. However, the Brunners I mainly distributed, together with Kapila. Half of the remaining Brunner pictures ended up in India, half in Kanizsa (a town in southwestern Hungary where the Brunners were from). So now they are there. Now there’s a director who doesn’t look after them, so if you write about the Brunners I would be happy if you wrote something nice about them. Because now in Kanizsa they don’t really look after them. They have 500 or 600 pictures. There are three rooms full with these pictures but the rest are in the cellar, or in an attic somewhere hidden.
IN: Why don’t they look after them?
GB: Because the Túri György Museum now has a director who isn’t an art historian. I don’t know what he was before. He’s not interested in the Brunners. Yet the many beautiful pictures are there, but, well, he’s not interested in them. This is the sad situation.
The International Association of Tibetan Studies (IATS)
IN: What were the first International Association for Tibetan Studies (IATS) conferences like?
GB: They were good. Generally, all conferences depend on who is invited, and how well they are invited, and how good the company is. So conferences are generally good.
IN: What were they like? how did they develop?
GB: The later conferences were better than the earlier ones. But it depends on the people you manage to invite and how good they are. The International Association for Tibetan Studies, the IATS, this was a good group, and there were all sorts.
IN: What was it like representing Hungary?
GB: Good. Yes, everywhere one had to represent, but that aside, things depended on how good the conference was.
People came from wherever we could invite them, and if we knew them well it was especially good. We invited people from India, Mongolia, England, America, from wherever there were Tibetologists. And then they came, if they came. They happily came to Hungary because we made the conference cheap. And we told them how much they had to pay and for that they get lodging and for how long they can stay. Budapest is a nice city, they came happily.
To India also. At the Hungarian Centre, too, we organised conferences, exhibitions, or musical events. There were various Hungarian musicians out there, so if we invited a good musician then there was a good audience. I was there for six years, so during that time I managed to find one or two good people.
The legacy of Sándor Kőrösi Csoma
IN: How much was the memory of Kőrösi Csoma alive in people’s minds?
GB: This is an important thing. Csoma is an important figure in India, too. So luckily there are those who remember him, but not that many. In Kolkata or in Zanskar there are many who know who Kőrösi Csoma is, so that’s very serious.
IN: Was it a surprise that many knew who he was?
GB: It wasn’t a surprise because I also saw to it that they know.
Kőrösi Csoma did a lot for himself; he travelled everywhere, and he performed well. He was in Kolkata for 10 or 12 years, and in Zanskar. Even now there are people who know his work well. They published his book, dictionary, his grammar. All of Csoma’s works were published in four volumes: the dictionary, the grammar, and one volume that contains only his studies, it compares various studies that he wrote on all sorts of things. Csoma worked a lot. And this is alive because he didn’t write stupid things, but important things, so the four volumes that were published now have everything in them—very basic things.
IN: Was it published here in Hungary?
GB: Yes.
Family and background
IN: And as a child you didn’t have any…
GB: Well, no. I didn’t care for Tibetan.
IN: And in the family, or…?
GB: There wasn’t anything like this in the family. My mother was a high school and primary school teacher at Mosonmagyaróvár. And my grandparents (the Görgey family) they similarly weren’t involved with things like this.
My father died when I was eight and my mother brought us up. She moved to Mosonmagyaróvár and fled in 1945 to Austria, and from there she couldn’t go back to Fölvidék, luckily. There was a group who went back to Mosonmagyaróvár and we went back there, too, and I grew up there with my mother. She raised me, or us, the three of us. She had three children. My oldest sister is still alive, my brother died last year, and I was the youngest.
IN: As a child could you feel the effects of World War II?
GB: Of course, very much so.
IN: In what way?
GB: In every way. We fled from the Russians. We were afraid that the Russians were coming from Szepesség. My mother came down by train to Bratislava and from Bratislava we went to Austria, and then there the English freed us. But afterwards the Russians came in, and then, fortunately, there was a division of the Óvar Academy who also fled there and who came home, and they brought us with them—three children and my mother—to Mosonmagyaróvár. But until then we felt everything. It was very difficult.
The war wasn’t easy. My mother wasn’t a Nazi, but we weren’t friends of the Russians either. We had to be scared of the Russians, that they rape everybody, etc. The Russian army was rather monstrous. We had to hide my sister, we had to dress her in boys’ clothes, because if the Russians caught her they would immediately rape her. The end of World War II was very tough. But luckily, we came back to Óvár—not to Slovakia, from where they would have kicked us out—and there it was very good actually. We managed to get a flat there and we lived there well. I went to school there. But my biography had me as a rich, or a child of a land-owning family, and they noted these things in those days.
During communism it was very well documented who I was, and it wasn’t possible to just get admitted anywhere. They didn’t admit me to university for years. I had very good connections, my mother’s brother was an influential person at Szeged. He said, come to Szeged. I went for my interview—they didn’t admit me. And then I got in in the way I told you, accidentally. I got accepted to the Humanities Faculty. They didn’t admit me for two years. And then Ligeti admitted me but then somebody came to him and said, “You admitted this, did you not look at his biography?” and he said, “I said that I’d accept him, I’ve admitted him.” And then I stayed there with Ligeti, so it was a hard battle.
*** End of interview one. The second interview took place the following day***
Early interest and research in Buddhism
IN: I’m interested in what you said yesterday that you went to Mongolia because you wanted to learn about Buddhist things. Who did you first hear about Buddhism from, and what kind of teachers did you meet?
GB: Here?
IN: Well, here and also in Mongolia.
GB: One must come across Buddhism quite early on, in fact. Because if one is interested in India then one is interested in religions, especially Hinduism and others. The Buddha himself is a very interesting figure—and Buddhism an interesting religion. So, I had no choice but to be interested in that, too, already at university. And then later when Ligeti admitted me I started to be interested in Mongolia and Mongolian Buddhism.
Buddhism had an important role in Mongolia, although then, of course, it wasn’t that important because the communists were in power. But people were basically, from a religious perspective, Buddhists. So, I started to engage with all this more seriously there. When I went to the library of the academy and went down to the basement the whole Buddhist canon was laid out there. A former Buddhist priest was looking after it, and I was allowed to have a look at these things—the manuscripts and things I saw there—and ask questions about what is what and why etc. So I got more interested in Buddhism.
IN: Were there monks there then?
GB: Then there weren’t people who they regarded as holy, but there were those people who were high-ranking priests. And later from among these they regarded some as holy. But I don’t know what the meaning of the word holy is, I don’t know what holy really means. They regarded them as all sorts, but we can roughly consider them holy.
IN: Did these monks live in a monastery then?
GB: They partly lived in monasteries, partly somewhere out in the fields. The main monastery, which was in Ulaanbaatar, in Urga, was spared. There were two or three other important places like this where holy people lived in the past. These were quite far away in Ulaanbaatar. One had to go there in order to get to know them, and to meet people like this there, too.
IN: Did the people you met there give you a different picture of Buddhism than what you had before in Hungary?
GB: No, they didn’t give a different picture. Naturally one gets to know the writings better, then the picture changes. I had a very good friend in Ulaanbaatar, too—later he became a very good friend—who by now they regard as a holy person.
IN: What is his name?
GB: Now I can’t, I’ll remember his name shortly. In any case there were these various holy people. He’s a very good, I learned a lot from him. This was an excellent person who had his own library. It was a Buddhist library and then when I got to know him and could go there to his flat, I could see these manuscripts and woodblock prints. There and also in the academy’s library, where I was working. There, too, the boss was a sort of Buddhist priest.
IN: Did they learn this in monasteries?
GB: No, they came to this through family heritage, so this lived in them. There weren’t any monasteries by then, there were hardly any monasteries. And the monasteries didn’t necessarily teach this; rather the monasteries might have been speaking exactly against Buddhism, because the communist government encouraged them not to really advertise Buddhism.
IN: Which branch of Buddhism did they represent?
GB: They were mainly adherents of tantric Buddhism. Tantra, that’s a kind of religion, which is very tough, and they were primarily adherents of tantric Buddhism. Not only tantra, all sorts of other kinds of Buddhism also came into the mix. These books are not only about tantra. There is the Vinaya, which are the life rules, then various other things, so there were also all sorts. And they represented various Buddhist schools.
IN: And you learned these practices, too? Buddhist meditation?
GB: Well, no. I didn’t learn that, but one had to know what meditation is. And they told me, and I also had to learn this—what a meditative something is like. It’s not that special. So meditation, yes. This is a form of thinking. A deep form of it.
IN: Do you practise meditation now?
GB: These days I don’t practise it. But we did do meditative practices here in this room, and one or two of my friends—five, six, 10 of us gathered, we sat down, and I held a little meditation session. Another did Chinese meditation; he explained Chinese things, and so we did that, all sorts.
IN: Did people came from Mongolia to Hungary?
GB: They didn’t come to visit me, but there were—there are Mongolians here in Hungary, too. They didn’t come here. This meditation we held here ran in Hungarian.
IN: What kind of meditation?
GB: Quite a simple meditation, not special meditations.
IN: How did you address these Mongolian priests?
GB: I don’t know Mongolian, so I spoke with them in Russian. And then Russian was still a very, Mongolia was under Russian occupation. By now most of them speak English. One can speak with them in English. I can’t speak in Tibetan either, nor am I familiar with the Mongolian spoken language.
IN: But did they know Tibetan?
GB: Yes, of course.
IN: And they spoke Mongolian at home among each other?
GB: Of course. As we are speaking in Hungarian.
IN: So they helped you read the texts and…
GB: And also what the text was. By then I knew Tibetan, so I already knew what these were—which book is about what. And as I said, I obtained most books from the flea market, the dzah. That had a section with only these kinds of things. It had a specifically Buddhist section where there were statues, pictures, and books. And those selling them knew what these were, so I asked them what this was and what it is good for.
IN: And then did you, for example, meet the Dalai Lama?
GB: The Dalai Lama. Later, of course, I met him, but not in Mongolia. He arrived in India fleeing from the Chinese. I met the Dalai Lama several times. I went to Dharamsala and various places. I didn’t meet him that often. When we first met, I asked for a five-minute audience, and we spoke for two hours. There I was one of the first to arrive from a communist country. Then Hungary was still a communist country, and he was interested in how we were managing with the communists.
IN: In Mongolia did you meet other lamas?
GB: I met various lamas and Mongolians who were involved with Buddhism, and they themselves collected books and knew what the essence was. I met many of these.
IN: How many years did you spend in Mongolia altogether?
GB: I first went out there for only three months, then I went there more times. And I travelled around Mongolia. Mongolia is three times as big as France. It’s a very big country, but the first times I went out there only 300,000 people lived there. They lived in these little tents, and we went to the countryside with these little Russian jeeps, which one could rent, and the driver knew a lot and took me to wherever I wanted to go.
IN: There were teachers and friends who you returned to visit?
GB: Yes, there were those who I met with regularly. Not in the countryside—there there were hardly any—but in Ulaanbaatar there were. I had friends in the countryside, too, but not that many. Big country, small population.
IN: What texts did you read?
GB: Biographical texts, the lives of people, saints. Not only these. Basically, I also read tantric texts, which were about meditation as well.
IN: Do these describe how the meditation should be done?
GB: Not exactly. They are primarily about individual people who do the meditation, describing what they do, how they do it. It isn’t specifically didactic in teaching meditation, rather these books were about people who engaged with these kinds of things. And it was possible to read them—to dip into these books, too.
IN: Did you teach these in Hungary?
GB: What I knew I presented. I didn’t know much, but the little I did know I presented. One must practise. Meditation is a practice. It’s not a teaching, not a text, the text isn’t its essence, but rather a practice: how we meditate. I’m wondering about something—and then the master sometimes interrupts that he’s been thinking about this, about what the essence of the matter is, tantra, how interesting this tantra is.
IN: Was there a particular kind of meditation or some particular text that you were especially interested in?
GB: I was interested in loads of texts. If you go to the library there are many kinds of texts. On the one hand biographical texts—somebody’s biography, the life of a saint—or there are other kinds of texts, theoretical texts. All kinds of texts exist. I tried to learn what one could about these, and also to presented it.
IN: Did you translate these into Hungarian?
GB: I didn’t translate these texts into Hungarian, but they are available—some are available in Hungarian. I didn’t translate the tantric—the Tibetan—texts, although there were some, I think, which I translated. I don’t remember by now what I had to translate, but mainly what was relevant to Kőrösi Csoma. He was a master who reached there and lived among these people, and he translated a huge number of texts, Kőrösi Csoma. When I work on him there is always something Tibetan as well in that. He is the editor of the Tibetan dictionary. He wrote a Tibetan grammar and studies. He wrote a basic book on the canon, too; what the canon consists of, what is contained in it, what kinds of texts are in it. He was competent in Tibetan and used Tibetan fluently.
IN: Where are these books now?
GB: They were published in four volumes. There’s a volume that consists of studies. There’s the grammar, the dictionary and there’s a volume which has his own studies in. He describes what one needs to know—what he knew, what he learned here and there. So it’s basically written down in these books what one has to do.
Research and travel in India (part III)
IN: When you later travelled to India, did you learn other kinds of things, too?
GB: In India my luck was that there were many holidays. The children, the Indian students, didn’t like to study; they went on strike, and when they were on strike, I could go wherever I wanted to, because I could call the university by phone to ask when the teaching would start again. So, I could go to various places in India. There was a place I liked to go to. And I went to Ladakh, to Zanskar, where Csoma lived, and I went to various places in India. I went down to South India, too, to Kolkata.
India is a very broad thing, and, well there is Goa, that’s a seaside area south of Mumbai where the Spanish lived—that used to be a Spanish area, not English. I went down to Goa eight times, and one could have a very good holiday there, let’s say, but also study. The flats were by the seaside and various people were there. We had a friend there who lives in Goa. We used to go down around Christmas, and he also came down then, otherwise he lived up in the Himalayas. I used to talk a lot with him and all sorts of things like this.
IN: Was he a monk, too?
GB: No, he was just an ordinary Indian who was interested in Tibetan. He had a wife, and he also had a child. He wasn’t some kind of a monk, but he was interested in these things, and he also lived there, and I learned one or two things from him, too.
Meeting the Dalai Lama
IN: How did you first meet the Dalai Lama?
GB: I called his office and said that I’m here, I’d like to talk with him. They said, “OK, you can have five minutes.” And then we talked for two hours, because he, too, was interested in what he was hearing from me. And I, in turn, heard all sorts of things from him that I was interested in. We talked about all sorts of things. I was asking him about what things he teaches—what the essence of his teaching is in Dharamsala. There he has a huge library with Tibetan books, where I used to go. I, too, could go there and have a look at the books that are there.
In: Did you often go back to Dharamsala?
GB: I did go back. I didn’t always meet the Dalai Lama, of course, only sometimes. Altogether maybe twice, or three times definitely.
IN: And did the Dalai Lama also explain the meaning of some texts to you?
GB: Well, not texts. Rather, we spoke generally about Buddhism: its essence, what the whole thing is about, what this Buddhism is for. We spoke about these things, but we didn’t look at individual texts, rather we spoke in general terms, what the Buddha actually wanted. Originally, of course, the Buddha wasn’t a teacher. He was just a thinking being, the Buddha, in truth—what is there, what the essence of life is, these things. And the Dalai Lama, too, tried to get to know this, and everybody who engages with this.
IN: And what did he say?
GB: I don’t remember. He said all sorts of things.
IN: Was it a special feeling meeting him?
GB: It was an interesting experience, of course, because I wanted to meet him, and I knew that this is an important person. And so it was a great experience, in fact, that we could come together and talk. But mainly he was the one asking. I wasn’t the one asking him.
Research and travel in Mongolia (part II)
IN: Did you enjoy Mongolia or India more?
GB: Both places. I very much liked to travel in Mongolia, too. That was my first Eastern trip. I went to India later, one year later. Mongolia was also good in the sense that a colleague of mine had gone out there before me. He was there for three months, and then I went out, also for three months. And it was in Mongolia that I first truly came across the Buddhist texts. Because I went to the academy’s library—the academy then was a communist academy, but the Buddhist books were also there, down in the cellar—and they let me look at them as much as I wanted to. And there was a former lama there who was looking after them, so it was very good to be there in Mongolia and have a look at these books. This wasn’t the only nice thing about it—this was good, too—but that then I could go to the countryside and there there also were these monasteries. This was very good. I really liked Mongolia. But India, too, I can say that. I was in India for much longer, but Mongolia was the first place in the East I went to, and it was very good.
Once we went to the countryside by aeroplane. We landed on a big plain, in the Gobi Desert, as the plane was landing it wobbled left-right because the cows were there, and we were not allowed to hit a cow. There wasn’t an airport, but this is a big desert and there were many cows there, and the aeroplane tried to land so that it wouldn’t hit a cow. And then finally we managed to land. Then we got out and we walked around the area. The countryside is very beautiful there. We could also go to a highland: There is a highland next to the Gobi, where one can also go to, and we went there, and everywhere. It was very beautiful.
IN: Did you also meet nomads?
GB: Naturally. There are nomads, they live in these tents. These are called ger—the tents are ger—and they lived in those. Those in the Gobi lived in these gers, and there weren’t that many people. A few people were there, and I asked them then to show me what’s around the area, and they came with me and showed me. They were very decent everywhere. Mongolian people are more decent than rural Hungarians. They are like Hungarians, we brought this from the East—this Hungarian kind-heartedness, which we have in Hungary. And, well, they do this.
IN: Do they keep animals?
GB: They have animals, yes. They keep various animals, which they have grazing in the fields. There are various animals: cows, all sorts, horses and this and that.
IN: And they still have them now?
GB: Of course. But by now Ulaanbaatar is the big city. Everyone goes up there instead, and they live there nicely. Less people live in the countryside by now, but naturally there are people there, too.
IN: Was it easy to communicate with them?
GB: Yes, with those who knew Russian. There were those among them who knew—generally they did. Because then Mongolia was under Russian occupation, so they had to know Russian, but the simple peasants didn’t necessarily. But there were many who did.
Reflections on career, biggest challenges, and contributions
IN: Did you write a book or some account of these experiences?
GB: I didn’t really write. I might have written something, I don’t know. I wrote about Mongolia itself, and about Kőrösi, and about these things, of course, I wrote a lot. I showed you the catalogues, the Kagyur catalogue. I studied those thoroughly. Their holy book is the Kagyur. I did a catalogue of that, in which all their writings are written down in detail, like the Bible. There are more than 1,000 writings in a Kagyur. And I went to the countryside. There was a very excellent person there, too, who also did a catalogue earlier, at the end of the 1700s, and they kept this in the countryside. But they brought it to Ulaanbaatar, and I managed to document that catalogue there.
IN: Then I guess you had to look through all of the texts?
GB: Of course, naturally. One must know what is in the Kagyur—what kinds of texts there are. One can mostly know this. It has the Tibetan, the Sanskrit, too, so one can mostly know what are in the various Kagyur parts: in the Vinaya, which I mentioned, is the disciplinary rule; the tantra—that’s the longest part, and that contains the meditative practices. Tantric Buddhism, that is the longest part—that has all sorts of texts. Tantra is an important thing in Buddhism. Tantra is an important part in the whole of Buddhism. These are practical parts—they are about practical Buddhism. Tantra is a part of Buddhism—of the practices of Buddhists: tantric practices, meditation, etc.
IN: When you taught about these things in Hungary, how was it received?
GB: I didn’t teach in wide circles. Rather, I generally only taught among friends. But luckily by now there is the Buddhist College, and all sorts of schools like this, where they teach these. So, this is a very serious step forward in Hungary with regards to the understanding of Buddhism. One can know a lot without being a Buddhist or going to Mongolia. The books are already here, one can have a look at them, read them, learn Tibetan. So one can very easily access this. And at the Buddhist College many people already know these things.
IN: Did you contribute to the founding of the Buddhist College?
GB: I didn’t contribute. I didn’t take part in this. They did that themselves. But there were people among them who I was friends with.
IN: Did people come from Tibet or Mongolia to found the college?
GB: There were various people who did things like this, and I was friends with them as well. Some used to come to the Humanities Faculty and they learned Tibetan as well there. There were also those at the Buddhist College who learned Tibetan or Chinese at the university, and then went to the college and taught there. So, it’s not necessarily only at the Buddhist school that one can learn these various things that are needed. For example, languages; one could learn these at ELTE, at the Tibetan Faculty, Mongolian Faculty, Indology Faculty, and many learned them. There’s Ferenc Rúzsa, an excellent Sanskritist, and he knows all kinds of things—Tibetan, too. He’s an excellent person and he might also teach at the Buddhist College.
IN: And in Mongolia the lamas or priests who learned these things in their family—how long have they had this tradition for?
GB: This is a 700-year-old tradition. This tradition was naturally there in the family, so this tradition lived on. It wasn’t allowed to live on, because the state was communist and the Russians didn’t like it, but it still lived among the people, and it very much existed.
I was walking along the street and there’s this lama sitting there and a lady next to him asking him what will happen to her and what one can do. The lama asks her when she was born and what she’s done etc. and explains to her that. So quite simply people also come into contact this way, and this person had once been a lama, the one who was explaining that to her.
IN: What was the most interesting and the most difficult thing you worked on or studied?
GB: Tantra itself, a very difficult thing. This is a serious science, to put it that way. It’s not easy to understand this. Meditation—that’s not easy; how you can do it, how you must do it, what you must do. Ganden Monastery was the main monastery, and next to it there was a little area of the city, and there, too, lived those lamas who weren’t really lamas anymore, and they were living there. I used to visit them, too, there, and there was an excellent lama who became my friend, and he explained all sorts of things to me. And there are the various Mongolists, Mongolians, who know many things and explain many things to one.
IN: How do you think you’ve influenced Hungarian Oriental Studies and Tibetology as such?
GB: Tibetology is a part of Hungarian Oriental Studies, but only one part of it, and not a main part. There are the Indologists, there are the Tibetologists, there are the Mongolists; these don’t all work on Buddhist things. They only work a bit on this and that. But the Buddhist College focusses on this as such, so that’s the chief result of the study of Buddhism in Hungary, what goes on here. But Buddhism isn’t only studied there; in Szeged, and in other places, too, there are various schools where they teach this, and there are scholars who work on it, and they do it very well.
A message for future generations of students and researchers
IN: My colleagues, or friends, have created this project so that it might be of interest for future Tibetologists, and so that they know about the development of Tibetology. What advice do you have for them?
GB: They should study the biography of Kőrösi Csoma! And then they’ll find out how difficult Csoma is—he didn’t live an easy life—and how he got to know Tibetan and Buddhism. It’s interesting in itself that Kőrösi Csoma—as an example and as a person—who wanted to discover the Hungarians, discovered Tibetan literature instead. By the end he wanted to go towards Darjeeling, he set out that way and wanted to reach Inner Mongolia. There are those areas around there where the Hungarians might have lived. The origin of the Hungarians is somewhere there, various tribes live west of Mongolia.
I showed you this picture, I had this teacher in Ude who knew all sorts and taught me all sort of things. So Ude also is an interesting place, and Hungarians go there, too. They go everywhere now, and they are also in China. Buddhism is very important in China, too. Of course, by now not as a religion, not as a faith, but as a studied thing; the study of Buddhism is very important for the Chinese, too. If they want to understand the Tibetans and their own people, they have to study Buddhism, as well, which is a further form of knowledge.
You’ll be able to put together a little report out of this, what we have discussed here. Feel free to leave out everything you don’t find interesting.
IN: It’s been very interesting.
GB: Well it wasn’t interesting enough, but maybe something.
IN: How did it feel that it became more and more popular—that people started engaging with Buddhism in more and more places?
GB: Buddhism is a, I don’t like to use this word, religion, but it’s a conviction which isn’t rigid like Christianity or Islam—it doesn’t have such strict rules, rather it’s more of a way of life. And meditative way of life, so this makes Buddhism popular in many places. They also teach things like this at the Buddhist College. Have a look at the Buddhist College!
IN: OK, I’ll take a look.
Additional info
Books, exhibition catalogues
Tibeti könyvillusztrációk. Budapest 1972. (Illustrations of Tibetan block-printed books)
Bidpai és Lokman indiai históriái. Budapest 1972. (Indian histories of Bidpai and Lokman)
A Painter’s Pilgrimage. Delhi 1978. Papers on the Literature of Northern Buddhism Presented at the Kőrösi Csoma Memorial Seminar, April 11, 1977. Department of Buddhist Studies, University of Delhi, Delhi, 1979. 71 pp. (co-edited with Sanghasen Singh)
A Catalogue of the Urga Kanjur. Delhi 1980. India in Hungarian Learning and Literature. Delhi 1980. Charles Fabri, Life and Work. Delhi 1981.
A Hand-list of the Ulan Bator Manuscript of the Kanjur Rgyal-rtse Them-spangs-ma. Budapest 1982.
India magyar szemmel. Budapest, 1987. (co-edited with Ildikó Puskás) (India as seen by Hungarians)
India varázsa – The Lure of India. Nagykanizsa 1988.
Tiszta Élet Öröm. Tihany 1989. (Pure Life Joy)
Enchanted by India: Ervin Baktay,Life and Works. Delhi 1992.
Dreams and Visions. Delhi 1999.
Articles
Chaman Lal: Gipsies. Forgotten Children of India. New Delhi, 1962. (review) Acta Orient. Hung. 1964, pp. 358–360.
Az ázsiai nyelvek átírásának kérdéseihez. Magyar Nyelv 1964:2, pp. 213–217. (To the problem of transcribing Asian languages)
Three Pañcatantra Tales in an Unedited Commentary to the Tibetan Subhāśitaratnanidhi. Acta Orient. Hung. XVIII (1965), pp. 317–338.
Lokesh Chandra, The three hundred gods. (review) Acta Orient. Hung. 1965, pp. 392– 395.
The Subhashitaratnakosha, HOS 42,44. (review) Acta Orient. Hung. 1965, pp. 395– 396.
Vengerskie raboty po orientalistike 1959–60. Narody Azii i Afriki, Moscow, 1966, pp. 161–168. (Hungarian works in Oriental studies 1959–60) Edit Tóth. Acta Orient. Hung. XIX (1966), p. 395.
Tibetisztikai tanulmányúton Mongóliában. MTA I. Oszt. Közl. 25 (1968), pp. 386– 392. (On a Tibetological study trip to Mongolia)
S. N. Sen: A Bibliography of Sanskrit Works on Astronomy and Mathematics, New Delhi, 1966, (review) Acta Orient. Hung. XXI (1968), pp. 259–261.
M. Taube: Tibetische Handschriften und Blockdrucke, I–IV. (review) Acta Orient. Hung. XXI, 1968, pp. 386–389.
Vedashastrasamgrahah. (review) Acta Orient. Hung. XXI, pp. 260–261. Aussprache des Tibetischen bei den Khalkha-Mongolen. Acta Orientalia Havniensia, Koppenhagen XXXII (1970), pp. 37–44.
The Mongolian and Tibetan versions of the tale “Hare and lion”. Mongolian Studies, Budapest 1970, pp. 93–102.
A Tibetan Catalogue of the Blocks of the Lamaist Printing House in Aginsk. Acta Orient. Hung. XXV (1972), pp. 53–75.
The Pañcatantra in Hungary. Acta Orient. Hung. XXVII (1972), pp. 127–129.
The Authorship of the Pañcatantra. Acta Antiqua XXI (1973), pp. 267–271.
Representation of Buddhist hells in a Tibeto-Mongol illustrated blockprint. Altaica Collecta, Wiesbaden 1974, pp. 93–130. (co-author: Alice Sárközi)
Egy múltszázadi fanyomatos könyv a a lamaizmus poklairól (Hells of Lamaism in a 19th c. blockprint) Művészet 1975, No 8., pp. 21–23. (co-author: A. Sárközi)
Lamaista pokolképek (Lamaistic Hell-pictures) Keletkutatás 1975, pp. 87–115, (coauthor: A. Sárközi)
Alexander Csoma de Kőrös in Ladakh. In: Proceedings of the Csoma de Kőrös Memorial Symposium. (BOH, XXIII) 1978, pp. 7–27.
On the Subhāśitaratnaniddhi (Echoes and Conception). In: Papers on the Literature of Northern Buddhism Presented at the Kőrösi Csoma Memorial Seminar, April 11, 1977. Department of Buddhist Studies, University of Delhi, Delhi, 1979. 71 pp. (ed. by Sanghasen Singh–G. Bethlenfalvy), pp. 24–37.
Bla-ma Bzhad-pa and the Rdzong-khul Gompa. Acta Orient. Hung. XXXIV (1980), pp. 3–6.
Megjegyzések egy indiai tanulók problémáit figyelembe vevő magyar nyelvkönyv előkészítéséhez. In: Magyar Nyelv külföldieknek. Az V. Magyar Lektori Konferencia anyaga (szerk. Giay Géza és Ruszinyák Márta). Budapest, 1981, pp. 64–66. (Somes notes on the preparation of a Hungarian coursebook with consideration to Indian learners)
The Satagatha Attributed to Vararuci. In: Tibetan and Buddhist Studies Commemorating the 200th Anniversary of the Birth of Alexander Csoma de Kőrös. (ed. by Louis Ligeti) Budapest, 1984, pp. 17–58.
Magyar tudósok indiai munkássága. In: India magyar szemmel. Budapest, 1987. (ed. by Bethlenfalvy Géza and Puskás Ildikó), pp. 58–61. (Activities of Hungarian research workers in India)
A Kőrösi Csoma Sándor kérdés. In: Kőrősi Csoma Sándor emlékkönyv. Kovászna (Románia) 1992, pp. 127–134. (The question of Alexander Csoma de Kőrös)
Megjegyzések Csoma és Moorcroft barátságáról és a korabeli nyugat-himalájai gazdasági és politikai eseményekről. In: Kőrösi Csoma Sándor emlékkönyv. Kovászna (Románia) 1992, pp. 156–164. (Some notes on the friendship of Csoma de Kőrös and Moorcroft and on economical and political events in the contemporary Western Himalaya)
Új levéltári források Kőrösi Csoma indiai útjáról. In: Kőrösi Csoma Sándor nyomdokain. Kovászna (Románia) 1993, pp. 42–50. (New archival sources on the trip of Csoma de Kőrös in India) Lehet‑e még újat mondani Kőrösi Csoma Sándorról? In: A szolgadiák. Szécsény 1993, pp. 43–50. (Can we say anything new about Alexander Csoma de Kőrös?)
Notes on the Roma. IIC Quarterly (New Delhi) Summer 2000, pp. 69–80.
Outline of the artists’ life-journey – List of awards – List of publications – List of important exhibitions. In: Deams and visions, an exhibition of paintings by Elizabeth Sass Brunner and Elizabeth Brunner. Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts, New Delhi 2000, pp. 41–85.
The Janus Face of Oriental Studies. In: Alexander Csoma de Kőrös (1784–1842) Pioneer of Oriental Studies in Hungary. Seminars at the University of Delhi and the Hungarian Information and Cultural Centre in memoriam of the 150th Anniversary of his death, April, 1992. (ed. by Satinder Kumar Vij–Imre Lázár) New Delhi, 1992, pp. 3–8.
Contemplation on the Occasion of Releasing a Book on the Life and Works of Ervin Baktay. In: Hungarian Scholars on India and Indology. Lectures at HICC New Delhi (1989–1991). (ed. by László Nyusztay) New Delhi, 1992, pp. 33–36.