At dawn in Udayagiri, when mist hangs low over excavated brick monasteries and the first chants ripple across the hill, history does not feel remote. It feels summoned. Monks in maroon and saffron circumambulate weathered stupas; butter lamps flicker against stone that has held silence for centuries. This is the Guru Padmasambhava Monlam—an annual prayer gathering inaugurated in 2026 at Odisha’s Udayagiri complex—and it is quietly reframing one of Buddhism’s most compelling origin stories. Not as a relic of the past, but as a living inheritance rooted in the soil of ancient Kalinga.
For practitioners across the Himalayan world, Guru Padmasambhava—also known as Guru Rinpoche, the Lotus-Born—is the 8th-century master who carried Vajrayana Buddhism into Tibet. Yet in Odisha, a different dimension of his story is gaining renewed attention: the proposition that ancient Oddiyana, long associated by some with regions beyond India’s borders, may in fact be linked to eastern India, and specifically to Odisha’s historic Buddhist landscape. The Monlam does more than commemorate a saint. It reopens a civilisational conversation.
The setting is significant. Ratnagiri, Udayagiri and Lalitgiri—collectively known as Odisha’s “Diamond Triangle”—form one of South Asia’s most important Buddhist archaeological corridors. Between the early centuries CE and the 12th century, this region flourished as a vibrant centre of Mahayana and Vajrayana. Excavations have revealed monumental mahaviharas, votive stupas, sculpted Buddhas and Bodhisattvas and monastic universities that once connected Odisha to Sri Lanka, Southeast Asia and beyond.
Lalitgiri yielded relic caskets that some scholars believe may contain sacred remains. Ratnagiri, the “Hill of Jewels,” emerged as a powerhouse of esoteric Buddhism, its sculptural programme dense with tantric imagery—multiple forms of Tara, Vajra Varahi and intricate mandalas carved in stone. Udayagiri, the largest complex, housed expansive monasteries that once echoed with debate and ritual. Together, these sites suggest not a peripheral outpost, but a thriving intellectual crucible where tantric Buddhism matured.
It is within this geography that Odisha stakes its connection to Padmasambhava. Some researchers argue that references to Oddiyana in Tibetan sources may not point to the Swat Valley, as often assumed, but to an eastern Indian milieu shaped by maritime trade, tantric experimentation, and royal patronage. The linguistic debates are layered—distinguishing between Odra (Odisha), Urdi (in Kashmir), and Oddiyana—yet they underscore a larger point: that eastern India was a dynamic centre of Buddhist innovation during the centuries preceding Padmasambhava’s journey to Tibet.
Stone inscriptions from early historic Andhra and Odisha further illuminate a web of monastic networks extending from Sri Lanka (Tamraparni) to Kashmir, Gandhara, China, and Southeast Asia. These inscriptions attest to monks who travelled widely, disseminating doctrine across maritime and overland routes. Within this matrix, Odisha emerges not as a footnote, but as a crossroads.
Padmasambhava’s biography straddles history and myth. Tibetan narratives describe him as miraculously born from a lotus in the lake of Dhanakosha, adopted by King Indrabhuti, and later renouncing royal life to pursue tantric mastery. Scholars note that Indrabhuti is associated in some traditions with eastern India, including regions that overlap with present-day Odisha. The legend of the lotus-born child may be symbolic, yet it anchors the figure within a recognisable cultural landscape.
In Tibetan memory, Padmasambhava tames local deities, integrates them into the Buddhist fold as dharmapalas, and establishes Samye—the first monastery in Tibet—its architecture conceived as a cosmic mandala. With a profound psychological understanding of power and place, his methods blend ritual, mantra, and mandala. Historians argue the intricacies of tantra didn't suddenly appear out of nowhere. It evolved across several centuries in eastern India, through interplay and fusion of goddess worship, esoteric ceremonies, and Buddhist philosophies.
Odisha’s archaeological record supports this tantric turn. Unlike the earlier stupa-centric traditions of Sanchi or Bharhut, the Diamond Triangle reveals image-based worship, fierce and serene deities alike, and a pantheon that mirrors the complexity later seen in Tibet and Nepal. While overt sexual imagery is more characteristic of Himalayan art, the conceptual seeds—female divinities, mandalic cosmology, ritual implements—are present in eastern India’s sculptural vocabulary.
This layered heritage complicates simplified narratives that attribute Tibet’s Buddhist transformation solely to one charismatic master, or Buddhism’s decline in India to a single adversary. The story spans centuries, trade routes, political shifts, and theological debates. The Monlam, in this context, becomes a space where myth and scholarship meet—where the Lotus-Born is honoured not just as legend, but as a bridge between landscapes.
The Guru Padmasambhava Monlam at Udayagiri is not structured as a conventional conference. It unfolds as prayer—continuous chanting, mandala offerings, butter-lamp rituals, and Vajrayana pujas conducted by monks and rinpoches from across Asia and the West. Evenings glow with Odissi and Tibetan performances, cultural forms that, while distinct, share a devotional grammar. The event’s emphasis lies not merely on spectacle, but on consecration: reactivating Udayagiri as sacred terrain.
Scholarly discussions during the gathering examine the identification of Oddiyana, the role of eastern India in tantric Buddhism, and the need for conservation of Odisha’s fragile sites. There is a growing call to imagine a formal pilgrimage circuit tracing Padmasambhava’s Indian journey—linking the Diamond Triangle with other associated landscapes across the subcontinent. Such a route would not only bolster heritage tourism but also re-anchor global Buddhist communities in India’s eastern heartland.
For practitioners arriving from Bhutan, Nepal, France, the United States, and beyond, Odisha is not an abstract theory. It is a tactile encounter: brick underfoot, inscriptions on stone, the hush before a mantra. The Monlam affirms that heritage is not static; it is sustained through ritual return.
In positioning Odisha within Padmasambhava’s sacred geography, the Monlam does something subtle yet powerful. It shifts the centre of gravity. The Lotus-Born, long associated with the Himalayan imagination, is gently drawn back to the eastern coast—where trade winds once carried monks across oceans, and where tantric Buddhism found fertile ground. Whether one approaches the claim through faith or scholarship, the result is the same: Odisha steps forward as a living chapter in the story of Guru Padmasambhava.
And in the hush of Udayagiri at sunrise, as incense threads through the air, that chapter feels less like revision—and more like return.