Bodhgaya

I want to tell you about Bodhgaya. As far as I'm concerned, this is one of the most special places on earth. Last letter, I tried (not too successfully, I think) to say something about my inner journey, but there is still so much to tell about the outward, physical one!! I did get a lot of replies to my last letter, and I will answer them, but I want to get the Bodhgaya story down before I forget some of the impressions.

Bodhgaya is a small town, with a huge attraction, which is - the Mahabodhi temple. This temple was built more than two thousand years ago right next to the tree under which Buddha is supposed to have attained enlightenment. It was later knocked down and covered with mud, by Turkish moslems who conquered India (it seems that the Islam religion doesn't do too well with competition) (please don't hold it against me if some of my history isn't perfectly accurate, I'm only putting it in as background for the main point, which I'm coming to). When it was later excavated and renewed, the mound of earth surrounding it pretty much stayed where it was, so you approach the temple from about half it's height (all the grounds around the temple are this height), and you walk down a flight of stairs to get to it's entrance. My point being, that the temple is surrounded by grounds that are higher than the entrance, so you get a chance to see it from different heights. All around it, devout Buddhists have built stupas, which are little mounds or platforms. So now you have a temple, with a huge, intricately carved, steep pyramid for a roof, surrounded by stupas, surrounded by grass, trees, etc., and varying levels of sidewalks and stairs.

Now add in an endless number of Buddhist monks, pilgrims, and just plain people. And don't forget that a large number of those monks are Tibetan Buddhists, who like doing prostrations all over the place - some of them have their own body-boards, on which they keep dropping to their knees, lying flat on their face, and then coming back up, only to put their hands over their heads in prayer position and start all over again. Some of them are more ambitious - encircling the temple by prostrating, standing up to walk two or three steps, and then prostrating again. I even saw one who prostrated on each and every step of the stairway that leads down to the entrance of the temple (although, sadly, I have to tell you that he eventually gave up on that and walked down most of the steps - only to resume his prostrations around the temple). No wonder these guys have such great physiques!

And don't forget the pilgrims - this is evidently the season for Sri Lanka, because there was a whole big group of them, every single one of them wearing white, chanting and walking in circles around the temple, complete with umbrellas (against the sun) and little colored flags to tie around the Tree (with a capital T).

As it happened, I arrived at the temple on the night of the full moon. It seems that every month, the Tibetan Buddhists celebrate the full moon by lighting the entire area of the temple with candles. On the walls, in all the carved niches, along the sidewalks, up and down the stairs, around the gardens... This is in addition to the little colored lights that are spread across some of the lawns and bushes, so you can imagine how spectacular this looked! And then they got together at one of the corners for their celebration - it's hard to tell what that was, exactly, but the atmosphere was not so much religious as social. People walking around, talking, I think there was food, almost like a market, only nobody was selling anything.

Which reminds me - the first temple I saw in Bodhgaya was the Japanese temple - a truly beautiful structure, with a sign at the gate prohibiting selling, begging or any other kind of commercial activity. This immediately brought to mind the Hindu temples, in which it is ok to do all of the above, but photography is prohibited (it is ok to take pictures in Buddhist temples). Interesting contrast, I thought. And inside the temple, you must keep silent (remember all the drums and horns and bells in the Hindu temple?) This probably contributed a lot to the general feeling of awe that I had there.

Anyway, back to the Mahabodhi temple, which is what I did at 6 AM the next morning. The original Tree no longer exists, but it's direct descendant now grows in the same spot, and enjoys all the worship it can handle. They built a fence around it, and elevated the ground, and devout pilgrims such as myself may enter the fence and sit by the tree and meditate, or do prostrations, or tie bits and pieces of cloth on it or around it, or pray, or chant, or light incense, or pray at the "diamond seat", which is a small platform next to the tree, supposed to be where Buddha sat when he did his thing, or take pictures of other people who are doing all of the above.

It's a "happening" place. Everybody does his own thing, without bothering the next guy, who is also doing whatever seems to be right for himself. So it's sort of introverted at the same time. As I was doing my own meditation under the tree - and I have to tell you that there really is something special about that - a young Tibetan monk, probably a teenager, came and sat next to me, for his own meditation. A little while later, he was joined by another monk, and a girl - all about the same age. They just sat there, talked a little between them, and smiled at me occassionally.

There is something very matter-of-fact about the eastern approach to holiness. I've seen it in some Hindu places as well. At the ashram, for example, the statues of the deities are on the main stage, and performers will bow to the statues, and then carry on with whatever they are doing. They give the respect due, and then they get on with life, right next to the holy article, whatever it may be. There isn't any taboo about doing every-day things or talking about "unholy" subjects in a holy place. I like that.

It's hard to say why the temple affected me so strongly - it wasn't just the physical beauty of the place, although it is very, very beautiful. I think it is probably the fact that this is what the "Lonely Planet" guide-book calls "a working Buddhist center". The place always has people walking around it, or praying, or meditating, or prostrating - and while each person is keeping fairly quiet to himself (there isn't any law of silence there, it just comes naturally) - it creates a general atmosphere of contemplation, of devotion, of caring, of each person's separate, individual striving for something better inside. Combine that with the external beauty of the place, and - what more can you ask for?

Then you come out into the street, which has been paved into a really wide sidewalk, sort of a mall. And meet the beggars.

I haven't written anything about the poverty I've seen - mostly because - what can I say? It is there, without excuses. In the west, it is very easy to hide things we don't want to see, and pretend they aren't there. Here, they don't really try to hide anything. (I haven't told you about all the people who use the front street as their toilet, have I?) And the beggars, especially, have a vested interest in showing you their misfortune. They will wave their amputated limbs in your face, along with their begging bowls. I have seen several people with one (or two) legs that just dangle limply from their bodies, thinner than my arm. And if you are in a standing car, they will lift the useless leg up to your window, just in case you didn't see it before. But then, there is this, too: one afternoon, I saw a young boy (who usually walks on his hands and knees, because his legs don't work) twirling himself around and around on the ground, letting his useless legs swing in a circle around him. Humans learn to live with whatever they have, don't they? And your emotions of joy, grief, frustration - whatever - are only in relation to what you think you should be living with...

I was actually quite apprehensive about this subject before coming here - no idea how I would deal with it. One friend told me that some of the beggars will throw away your money if they think you haven't given them enough, and another friend told me not to give money to children, but only food. I liked the idea, so I kept a bag of peanuts to give to the kids. It never occurred to me that adults would accept this. After I wrote you my last letter, I realized that I was out of peanuts, and was heading in a direction where I knew there would be kids. So I bought a big bag of "dhanna" - something like rice crispies (for ten rupees). The little boy standing next to me held out a cloth (so I could give him more than just a handful), and then an old beggar woman came up, and she obviously wanted some too. And then another one, and another, and another... In less than two minutes I was surrounded, and only two of them were children. Everyone was pushing their hand in my face, or their bowl. As soon as I poured some "dhanna" in a bowl, it would disappear, and the same bowl would come back empty. They were pushing and shoving each other aside to get closer to me. It would have been really easy to panic, but (uncharacteristically) I kept my cool. When a small boy crawled under everybody else's feet, I gently pushed the other hands aside and gave him a handful. There I was, quietly and calmly distributing rice crispies to a group of people, almost all of them much older than me. When the bag was empty, I just walked away. And I've been thinking about it ever since - none of those people got more than a few handfuls of rice crispies from me, and they knew in advance that was all they would get, and they still came at me with a vengeance. So maybe some of the beggars will turn up their noses at one or two rupees, but some of them really are that hungry.

It's been a while, now, that I've been thinking - if I had to characterize countries with one word, I would say that Israel is an angry nation, and India is a hungry one. Not just because of the beggars, but even more so because of the people who try to sell you things. Young and old, they go crazy trying to get you to buy something, anything. And then I think - where is the spiritualism that these nations gave to the world? Naturally, the first thing you may think of is - when your very existence is being threatened - either by hunger or by war - then you can't be very spiritual. But the spiritualism that I have been trying to learn speaks just about these very things! It isn't something separate. I've seen mothers sending their children to beg, and I'm still looking for the answer.

Anyway, I'm being more philosophical than I thought I would, so maybe I've yakked enough. Just as a parting note, I would like to tell you all that today, I have suddenly realized just how Indian I have become (although not hungry). This is evidenced by the fact that I have been sitting in the front seat of an Indian-driven car for the past five days, and I have witnessed Indian driving, up close and personal. And yet - not once has my heart skipped a beat - not once has my breath even speeded up or stopped. Cows, bicycles, pedestrians, trucks, wagons - even a water bison that broke away from the boy that was leading it and galloped madly onto the road - nothing fazes me any more!! I am so proud of myself!!

Enough for one letter. For those brave souls among you who actually stayed with me until now - thank you for your patience.
Love to everyone from Patna (tomorrow we hit Kushinagar)