There is perhaps no mythological creature that puts in so frequent an appearance as the 'naga' a water serpent with origins lost far back in time, before even the formal religions of Hinduism and Buddhism. Like the chofa, it graces monastery roofs, thogu in larger numbers. As we have just seen, its long, scaly body forms the bargeboard of several sections of the roof and is, whenever possible, gilded.

Naga means 'serpent' in Sanskrit, and its first documented appearance is in the Hindu cosmological myths. It also appears in Buddhist legend, reminding us how closely these two great religions were linked. Always, the naga had a quatic associations, and there was even a race of part-serpent, part-human nagas who inhabited the watery underworld. The most important legendary nagas had names. Ananta, also knwon as Sesha, supported the god Vishnu on a bed of its couls as the two floated on the cosmic ocean and the god dreamed the universe into existence. In another myth, the naga Vasuki lent its body to be wrapped around Mount Mandara so that the gods and demons, grasping its head and tail, pulled it back and forth, rotating the mountain and so churning up the ocean from which it rose to release magically the elixir of life. At Muchalinda, the naga protected the meditation Buddha from a strom by rearing its large cobra-like hood overhead like an umbrella. Its name shortened to nak in Thai, this serpent arrived with the Khmers who, at the height of their empire in the 12th century, controlled the larger part of what is now Thailand. Great stone balustrades, such as those at the Khmer temple of Phnom Rung, were the model. They symbolised a bridge between the world of men and that of the gods; that is, they marked the transition into the sacred realm of the temple. Much later, especially in the north of Thailand, the naga balustrades were copied as the entrances to Buddhist monasteries, as above at Wat Phra Kaeo.

Nagas, such as those illustrated on left at a gable end of Wat Pan Tao in Chiang Mai(PICTURE). Nagas have a variable number of heads. There maybe just one, three, five, even seven, but always an odd numbers. By andd large, the Khmers prefered theur nagas with multiple heads, and they used them not just as balustrades but also as acroters on the corners of their redented towers, and as the lower projections of arches, where they were almost always disgorged from the mouths of yet another water creature, the elephant snouted 'makara'.

All of these architectural roles-entrance balustrade, roof finial and arch-were preserved by the Thais in their monastic buildings. Only the religion seemed to have changed, though what had actually happened appeared to be that one belief had been brought it to help another. In naga: Cultural Origins in Siam and the West Pacific (1988), architect and write Sumet Jumsai argues that the naga is made so much of because it symbolizes the pervasive aquatic rites and culture of the Thai people. Though not everyone would agree with his contention that Thailand is a "water-based civilization", Jumsai convincingly demonstrates how deeply such water symbols as the naga have permeated ritual and design.

He relates a rural measurement of the amount of water needed for the cultivation in any given year that is knwn as 'naga giving water' (nak hai nam). Naga sue up water, and the more of them that are around, the drier the year. When water is abundant, only one naga is present, but in a severe drought there can be as many as seven. The monsoon, irrigation, flooding, and the watery network formed by the lower Chao Phraya River and Bangkok's canals(most now sadly filled in for motor traffic) all demonstrate an aquatic legacy, of which the naga is an appropriate symbol.