A drive through Bihar

We are up at 3.30 a.m. the following morning and spend many hours sitting on the grounds before leaving. This is probably the most holy of all the sites, and very hard to describe. The Maha Bodhi society has done a wonderful job of preserving the site and not charging any money to pilgrims, but it has had to fight the extremely greedy Hindu government of Bihar to do so. As one walks around the main temple, the land is dotted with dozens of Ashokan pillars, arahant stupas, gifts and dedications from Asian countries, and many other items. We meditate in a hall where a Buddha relic is kept, and view the seven areas where Buddha spent one week each after Enlightenment, contemplating and understanding the laws of nature to a subtler degree. In our mosquito nets we sit just outside the small golden pavilion which marks the very spot underneath the Bodhi tree where Nibbana was attained. As time passes, more and more pilgrims start to arrive, until we are overwhelmed yet again by the 100-person strong Sri Lankan troupe, dressed entirely in white, and their head monk who chants into a loudspeaker (!) and they repeat after him. Suddenly this small golden area is opened for a short time, and we all head in here to briefly pay homage.

By breakfast we head back to the Burmese monastery and eat across the street. We have our choice between the Original Pole Pole Restaurant and New Pole Pole Restaurant. They are side by side and I can't remember which one we choose. They serve pseudo-Western meals such as banana pancakes and honey but these are always far more dangerous than just getting some iddli or rice pudding. The food takes an enormous amount of time to prepare... we are ten people and there is but one cook and a couple burners. Ah well. We serve Bhanteji, each of us taking turns at offering something in his begging bowl. He thanks us in turn, saying "get merits, get merits," then chants a brief metta and asks us to make an aspiration having made an offering with a pure heart to a monk. This is the usual practice for these two weeks of yatra.

We get on the bus and head into the much more dangerous Rajgir. Bihar is by far the poorest of all of India, and through some drives we see why. There is no infrastructure anywhere, and the only means of surviving in many of these places seems to be extremely hard physical labor, such as hauling rocks on one's back all day or pushing cartloads of bricks. There are many dacoits as well, and we must pay off some of them at roadblocks (though I was told they are actually government employees-- never did figure that one out)

During the lifetime of the Buddha Rajgir was the capital of the powerful Magadhan kingdom, ruled by the virtuous King Bimbisara. The hills and caves surrounding Rajagriha were home to spiritual teachers, ranging from the materialism of the early Charavaka school to the metaphysics of Upanishadic philosophers. Today, however, Rajgir is hardly even a village. We are told that we will climb two more hills on this day. But this time, we find out the climbs are far longer and sun a good deal hotter. It takes a great deal of effort, and each of us makes the climb with a full bottle of water and a cloth covering or umbrella to protect against the sun's rays. The first hill has many caves that Buddha, Ananda, Sariputtra, and Mogallana stayed in. Before making the ascent, we stop at a horrible roadside eatery, the worst of the trip, where the kitchen peers out at us like a dark dungeon with flies on every speck of food and pot. To make matters worse we are also grossly overcharged and must engage in an argument with the management before leaving.

At every site, in Rajgir and every other pilgrimage site we visit, we pay homage to its importance. No one is required to do this, but we all can sense that it is deeply meritorious and beneficial to do so. Thus for us Westerners, each of us must continue his own confusing battle with the bulky ego. We are told the correct way for paying homage is to clasp one's hands together, touch them to the forehead, then chest, then press hands, elbows, and forehead to the ground. This is done three times, one each for Buddha Dhamma and Sangha. On a deeper level, Bhanteji asks that we are aware of sensation as we do this, any sensation, and perhaps think of another three characteristics: anicha, anatta, dukkha. That is, to recognize the impermanent nature of all things, the constant change always taking place; to realize that this transience must mean there is no "I", no "me"; and finally, to remember the suffering and pain that always must come every time we mistakenly start to identify this bodily and mental structure and all its attachments and cravings and aversions with "my." Gilad's struggle includes the fact that in Jewish faith, it is very important than no one bow before any other person or image-- this was a strong belief he grew up with. As for me, it is excrutiating sometimes. I feel I must go the full distance-- I have come so far to see these sites, to not honor them properly feels very wrong. But at the start of the yatra, with all the homage I am paying, the resevoirs of doubt and negativity that come up are brutally strong. I try to smile and know the sensation is not going to last, and not go deeper into the matter. It is challenging... I also remember Malcom X's powerful description of the first time he ever bowed while in prison. He could barely bring his body to do it-- something was screaming out trying to stop it. Even after many years of following Islam, he also struggled with bowing on his trip to Mecca as well, and compared his difficulty as an American with the Middle Easterners.

We skip the primitive ski lift chairs and make our way up the very steep hill, past prostrate elderly beggars in rags and young children who cling to you several steps or more asking for pens, money, even my water bottle, anything. It was at this place that Gotama's cousin Devadatta tried to kill Buddha by hurling a rock down the mountain, that only succeeded in injuring his foot. Here is a further description of the area...

"The most important of all associations of the Buddha with Rajgir is that with Vulture's Peak, a small mountain just outside the city. Here, sixteen years after his enlightenment, he set forth the second turning of the wheel of Dharma to an assembly of 5,000 monks, nuns and laity, as well as innumerable bodhisattvas. This collection of teachings, which extended over twelve years, includes the Saddharmapundarika Sutra and the Surangama Samadhi Sutra, as well as many Prajna-paramita Sutras, which, as the Buddha himself told Ananda, contain the very essence of all his teachings.

When the Chinese pilgrims visited Vulture's Peak they found the summit green and bare. Fa Hien mentions a cave and Hsuan Chwang a hall slightly below it, where the Buddha is said to have sat and preached. Here also he once reached through the mountain with his hand to calm Ananda, whose meditation was being disturbed by Mara in the form of a vulture. Before the cave were the walking and sitting places of the previous buddhas, and a stupa where the Saddharmapundarika Sutra was taught.

King Bimbisara built a causeway leading up to the hill. At the foot of the hill was Amaravana, the mango grove offered to the Buddha by the physician Jivaka. The remains of what was once a monastery may still be seen here. According to Hsuan Chwang, at one time on Vulture's Peak there was a monastery occupied by many meditators and several arhants. "

And here are a couple photos of a cave we sat in, and the top of Vulture's Peak, where I believe Buddha used to come...

Our second hill is even more challenging to climb. We start by walking past a small Hindu temple and hot springs complex. The higher we ascend, the more the view opens up. Just when it looks like it can't possibly get any more splendid, it does. We must pause several times to not exhaust overselves. Many times Bhanteji orders to stop, continue standing, close our eyes, and observe respiration or sensation. We do this and move on. When we reach our destination, it is as if we are on the wing of an aircraft. There is a small ledge and a giant drop-off cliff below. We find a cave and meditate here, enjoying an extremely powerful metta session. This is the place of the Sangayana. After the Buddha's death, the Sangha came here to chant all of his teachings so that they would be remembered for all posterity. Last year's yatra, I am told, Kedaar and Bhanteji meditated here all night.

Our final stop is the Bamboo Grove. This was donated by King Bimbisara. It is also the place where his wife, Queen Malika, ordained as a nun, and where Buddha first spotted his two chief disciples, Sariputtra and Mogallana. We meditate here and after we finish, a Thai couple approaches us, pays homage to Bhanteji, and offers dana in the form of money, which he refuses. This is a very common occurrence through all our yatra-- people stopping to prostrate themselves before Bhanteji, and he recites a short metta chanting wishing them happiness. It is really quite wonderful and pure to behold.

We stop in Nalanda, but are not able to find our way inside. We settle on fresh orange juice and sugar cane water after a fierce round of negotiations. It feels like it is the ten of us in this area and about 10,000 beggars in all directions. We see a Thai monastery/university across the river and walk around here, seeing the young Thai monks smoking and playing hackysack in their scivvies. The sun is setting and this is a very peaceful place here. We stare across the river at Nalanda, finding the building where Sariputtra was born.


We pull into another Thai monastery. This place is exquisite but still very much in the process of building. Once I brushed my teeth in the sink in my room, only to realize that nothing was connected, the hole in the sink emptied on the marble floor below! The danger of this area requires that they have a roaming guard with a rifle, patrolling the grounds all night, as you can see in the photo with Gilad next to him. We want to go back and have a sit at Bamboo Grove, but are told we must not due to safety issues. I am tired all over, my laundry has been dirty for days on end and I can't remember my last shower. I somehow drag my body to complete the necessary tasks before dropping asleep. With no mosquito nets over the beds, I hope I'll be able to sleep soundly, which I do.

For photos of this area, go here!