Yama is the lord of death in both Hindu and Buddhist traditions, the judge who weighs every life and holds the keys to rebirth. Tibetan Buddhism answered him with a set of deities fierce enough to beat him at his own game. Their shared name, Yamari or Yamantaka, means "enemy of Yama" or "ender of death." Raktayamari, the Red Enemy of Death, is one of the most intense of them, and this mandala, painted in Central Tibet in the late 14th century, is a map of his world.
At the center, the red, wrathful deity embraces his consort, a pairing that represents the union of compassion and wisdom, the two qualities Vajrayana Buddhism holds are needed for enlightenment. The palace around them is guarded by rings of flame and thunderbolts. The flame burns away ignorance, and it keeps out anything that doesn't belong inside.
A mandala like this isn't meant to be looked at like a painting in a gallery. A practitioner studies it until they can build the entire palace in their mind, stepping through its gates, meeting each deity, and finally identifying with the deity at the center. Raktayamari's practice aims at the deepest fear of all: by becoming the enemy of death in meditation, the practitioner rehearses meeting death without terror. Texts associated with Yamari were also used in rituals of protection and, in some traditions, in rituals meant to overcome enemies and obstacles, which gave these deities a formidable reputation.
Paintings like this often place lineage teachers and the donor who paid for the work around the edges, a way of putting both the teaching and the patron inside the sacred order. The Met credits this work to Mikyo Dorje. That name is also borne by the famous eighth Karmapa (1507 to 1554), a painter and scholar, but a 14th-century mandala was made well before he was born, a reminder that religious names in Tibet were often shared across generations.
The mineral colors are part of the meaning. Red is the color of magnetizing power and of the transformed energy of desire in Vajrayana symbolism. It isn't anger for its own sake. The deity's ferocity is compassion with its sleeves rolled up, aimed at the illusions that keep beings suffering.
It is a strange and bracing idea for anyone raised on softer images of spirituality. The painting doesn't ask you to avoid death or pretend it isn't there. It asks you to walk right up to it, through four gates and a ring of fire, and find at the center something that death can't touch.
The Mandala of Raktayamari appears on our: