Ending up on a rope way, the sun setting as a bright pink orange ball suspended in a sea of dust, was the finish to a day of travel and exploration
This trip required a vehicle as Nalanda is ninetyfive kms from Bodhgaya. Organised, the journey was quite fast after getting through Gaya. Shivam had not seen so he accompanied, excited to be exploring his own backyard. A lot of theoretical knowledge but little practical. In talking many Indians have a convincing depth of fact about destinations and what is possible, so better that I can provide the opportunity for experience.
Travelling through one of the constant traffic jams in Gaya, something made me smile. A visual. A double bed, solid wooden structure, balancing on the back of a cycle rickshaw. The ballast, a frail elderly sari clad woman sitting in the middle of the bed as it navigates between buses, cars and bikes. Successfully. We follow until able to pass.
The Bihari countryside is kilometres of fields, small villages, threshing, rice stacks and then an equally barren landscape populated with banyan trees and 'toddy' palms. A local alcohol is made from the palms which, some research tells me, is often spiked with datura, for more of a kick. In north Bihar the industry is taxed and regulated. A specific caste taps, creates and sells / serves the alcohol. There must be a lot that are not under these regulations by the amount of palms.
We travel at speed, dodging the obstacles on the road, of which there are many. Each little hamlet has animals staked immediately along the road edge or buildings that border. Little urchins playing games run across 'their backyard' not looking for traffic travelling at speed. This helps explain the makeshift speed humps, some the vehicle needs to almost come to a stop to got over.
The road looks recently constructed or at least resurfaced, largely pot hole free and two way. This allows us to reach eighty kms or more though the driver is ever vigilant. Near hamlets rice grains are spread out on the bitumen to dry, surrounded by broken bricks. We weave through kilometres of this. On the return, roads swept clean, rice away until tomorrow. In one village, the lane we are travelling in has a huge banyan tree growing in it. The road stops to restart on the other side of the tree. The greenies won this case though no deviating from the road plan. It becomes a single lane for about three metres.
We stop along the journey to see where Dashrath Manjhi, the Mountain Man, single handedly chipped away at a hill for twenty two years to create a road that changed the lives of many in the area. ( wiki web address at the end for reference as most other references are newspaper articles). Recently a film of his life was made. With hammer and chisel he cut a path through the hill that was 360 feet long, 30 feet wide and 25 feet high. He was driven to this act when his young wife died after a fall, crossing the hill. Medical attention was on the other side of the hill and too far to save her. The path he created reduced the travel distance from fifty-five kms to fifteen. He was an environmental vandal but at the same time became a hero. There is a small statue outside his old house, where his son currently resides and his resting place is at the entrance to the path. Many stop along the way.
Reaching Rajgir, brightly coloured tongas ( small horse drawn carriages ) carry people from the Rajgir Hills to the city centre and then twelve kms on to Nalanda. Drawn by two horses, a high canopy - brightly decorated in tinsel and bunting, often spelling 'welcome' dangling above. The quantity a Tonga can carry depends, I think, on the age and health of the horses as these have entire extended families onboard.
Nalanda is an historic place. It was the centre of learning in India from the fifth to the twelfth centuries CE based on the archeological evidence recovered but research suggests that this extends back further into fifth or sixth century BCE. The ruins have been excavated revealing a Buddhist University spreading over twelve hectares. As a residential university there were eleven monasteries and fourteen temples in the complex plus a library to be rivalled. Here scholars studied religious manuscripts including the Vedas (Hindu scriptures), Buddhism as well as logic, grammar, philology, medicine, the works of magic plus law, astronomy, astrology and city planning. Those who studied here had an impact on the development of culture and took Buddhism to Tibet and China.
The entire structure was built from baked clay bricks, stone pillars and wood. That which remains is fascinating and quite beautiful. The Monasteries were multi storied with cells on the base surrounding a wide central courtyard. Each has a well with ground water. There are extensive grounds around the site and many trees. An interesting specimen was a palm, four metres single trunk, that divides into eight each with a palm head.
It was easy to spend several hours wandering and exploring nooks and crannies imagining this as a hub of academia. Across the road is the Nalanda Museum housing an impressive collection of artefacts small and large. Unfortunately photography was not allowed. There were some exquisite examples of sculpture in basalt and sandstone. Equally there were small stamps that were pressed into clay like seals. The street running between the two is populated with merchants, all wanting business, all selling the same products. It is very colourful. Interestingly inside the Museum was a poster that listed the attributes of a 'good tourist'. One of them was buying from the stall farthest away from the entrance to discourage all of the others claiming the front door. Plus not throwing rubbish and there were several others mentioned on the list.
Travelling back towards the Rajgir Hills there is a ropeway, similar to those used on the ski fields. It is Rs60 for a return journey to the top. Interestingly a bar code ticket system is in place and it is very organised. Rhesus monkeys fight in the trees over the queue, stealing from patrons, where we are herded like cattle through gates until we reach a turnstile. It is like a roundabout in a cage. One person only at a time for the full rotation, before the next person can enter. It paces the queue in theory. I visually measured the space available and decided I could manage. Through hurdle one. Second was the narrow turnstile after the ticket was scanned. On scanning 'green sleeves' plays until you pass through. The third hurdle was passing the assessing eye of the woman scanning the tickets. After discussion with the operators a decision was made. I was on, I would fit, it would hold, but they stopped the chair for me to get in, much to the amusement of the remainder of the queue. There was no need but all felt better. Away, flying, absurdly in my deep green chair, red one on front of me and yellow one behind. It was relaxing bouncing over the pylons rollers, looking down onto the vegetation and across the expanding vista and then we stop. Hanging. The little boy in the chair facing me is terrified. He curls up in his seat. We are stranded for about five minutes before the chairs lurch forward again. The boys face still registers fear as other try and calm him. A coupe, of cars along five saffron red robed monks are descending from atop. Getting off the moving chair requires you not to get caught up, have your legs ready to fast pace it while the attendant holds the chair for a second. No extra help here.
Ahead is one of the worlds eighty peace stupas. A beautiful hemispherical structure, surrounded by the wide circular fencing on three levels for circumambulating in a clockwise direction. In alcoves situated facing the four directions are beautiful golden statues of Buddha in different meditative postures. Outside the Stupa a huge peace bell occupies a lower platform. There is a helipad of all things and further up a temple, with an elaborately decorated interior from which echoes the rhythmic beating of a large temple drum which shakes the whole structure.
This hilltop overlooks 360 degrees.
Upward chair journeys stop at five pm, so there is quite a queue for the downward ride. The line moves at a steady pace. Successfully managing to board the chair the journey down is beautiful watching the setting sun.
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