Please Step Inside and Have a Seat

Padmapani Bodhisattva in Cave 1.

A view of the Ajanta Caves
similar to the one Capt. Smith
probably had.

On April 28th, 1819, a group of British officers stationed in the Madras Province of British India set out on a tiger hunting expedition.  One of them, a Capt. John Smith, eventually made his way to a horseshoe-shaped valley, which had been carved out by the flows of the Waghora River over millions of years.  Taking a closer look around the area, he didn't find any tigers but did make out what appeared to be a series man-made caves.  He eventually entered one, finding it filled with finely-detailed sculptures and carvings from an era long past.  Scratching in his name and the date of his visit for posterity, Capt. Smith left the area.  The news of his discovery then proceeded to set the archaeological community on fire.  After more than 1000 years, the cave temples of Ajanta were once again known to the world.

Map of the Ajanta Site.  Original source unknown.

 

The "Viewpoint" overlooking
the Ajanta site.

The Ajanta caves, like their companions at Ellora, are a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Because of their proximity, Ajanta and Ellora are often grouped together as part of tourist visits to this part of India.  My mother and I followed suit, having visited Ellora the day before.  The two sites share many similarities, the most obvious of which is that they are both rock-cut caves with the same architectural style.  Peering beyond the obvious, however, one sees that there are quite a number of important differences that set Ajanta and Ellora apart.  For starters, the Ajanta caves, the earliest of which date from the 2nd century CE, are much older than their Ellora counterparts.  In fact, the Ajanta caves are the oldest examples of Buddhist rock-cut architecture anywhere.  Ajanta's architectural influence was also felt not only at Ellora but also in places like Sigiriya in Sri Lanka and the Mogao Caves in Dunhuang, China.  Another distinctive feature of Ajanta is unlike the Hindu/Jain/Buddhist mixture at Ellora, the temples here are exclusively Buddhist.

Perhaps the biggest difference between Ellora and Ajanta is simply the setting.  Ellora is quite close to various towns and villages and has remained a widely known place of pilgrimage since its inception.  The Ajanta site, however, was specifically chosen for its remoteness; the perfect place for contemplation and reflection, where the ebbs and flows of society are replaced by the ebbs and flows of the river flowing through the horseshoe-shaped gorge.

Aside from me nodding off a few times during the almost 1.5 hour car trip there, Ajanta's seclusion became even more apparent when we arrived.  Our driver dropped us off at the parking lot and we then made our way to the nearby bazaar/staging area.  This place, known as the T-Junction, felt like it was in the middle of nowhere because it actually was.  It was almost as if this small tourist hub sprouted up in the middle of the Deccan plateau like a random cactus in a desert.  At any rate, the souvenir vendors here were of the typically Indian selection and ranged from passive aggressive touts hocking suspicious wares to elegant yet expensive shops.  We hung around for a few more minutes before boarding green buses that brought us to the actual entrance of the caves in about 10 minutes.  

Accessibility, Indian style.

We got off the bus, rounded a corner, and made way for an older East Asian women on a palanquin, and then found ourselves at the ticket counter, where I happily paid the "foreigners rate" of $10.  A large, hand-written sign just beyond the gate and next to the UNESCO World Heritage Site plaque explained the history and significance of Ajanta.  These handwritten signs were something I loved about sightseeing in India.  They made whatever was being explained seem so much more personal and approachable compared to their digitally typeset counterparts seen in developed countries.

Hand-written signs abound in India.

The caves as seen from the main entrance.

For all of the wonderfully amazing (and awful!) things I had seen and experienced in India thus far, the anticipation for Ajanta was never far from my thoughts.  It's a bit hard to describe this feeling, which was not so much anticipation as much as it was a kind of calling.  It vaguely resembled knowing you have to be at a certain place at a certain time in the evening all the while going through a busy work day.  You take care of whatever business you have to do but the evening event always pops into mind.  To be sure, there are far worse tasks than visiting the majestic Taj Mahal or lounging on Kerala's verdant shores and I would never, ever say these experiences were "just business to take care of" before Ajanta.  But somehow Ajanta always managed to pop into my mind wherever I was.

The not-so-thundering river.

Watery imprints.

The terrain made the big first impression on me.  The way the caves swerve around the river bend really does make for a dramatic setting.  The river itself, however, didn't.  In early January, India's dry season, the Waghora river was little more than a series of ponds and streams.  Ajanta's famous waterfalls were also not to be seen during this time of the year. 

Entrance to Cave 1.

It didn't take long for me to be blown away and this event occurred about 10 seconds after entering Cave 1.  On the wall to the left of the entrance, under artistically dimmed and ethereal lighting, was the famous painting of Padmamani Bodhisattva, the face of Ajanta.

Padmapani Bodhisattva as
poorly photographed with my
camera.

The Padmapani Bodhisattva
mural as it felt to me; warm
and radiant.

Do you know that feeling when you've seen a famous painting or sculpture in a book or on TV and then you go to a museum and see this work in real life and think "Hey I know this!"?  My experience with the Padmapani Bodhisattva mural was nothing like that at all.  For me, this imagine wasn't merely a famous pretty painting on a cave wall.  It was so many things to me, all at once; a welcome home sign, a devotional image, a model for the human potential, a figure of serenity surrounded by hectic activity, an elegant and delicate yet enduring expression of compassion from people in an age long past but so profoundly relevant today.  I'll stop there since going on further would quickly lead me to the realm of speechlessness and inexpressibility.  If you're interested in a more detailed art analysis of this and the many other paintings of Ajanta, I highly recommend this wonderful NatGeo series as well as the the book "The Ajanta Caves", both by the amazing photographer Benoy K. Behl.

Inside Cave 2.

There was a steady stream of visitors at the caves, particularly at those closer to the main entrance.  While the periods of louder noise were a bit jarring, the moments when people were quiet or, even better, when no one else was around, were quite serene.  It wasn't hard to see the genius of Ajanta as a spiritual refuge. The sculptures, paintings, the caves, the lighting, and everything else came together as the perfect place for meditation and contemplation.

A wider shot of Cave 4.

For all of their beauty and elegance, I also felt the caves exuded a no-nonsense approach to the spiritual path.  It was almost as if the rows of buddhas and bodhisattvas on the walls were saying "please step in to my office and have a seat.  We have some business to discuss".  In the Zen tradition, to be a part of a Sangha and to practice is called "taking care of the family business", i.e. the business of enlightened beings.  In keeping with this idea, the prayer beads used in Zen and other East Asian traditions are threaded with a red cord, meant to symbolize the (spiritual) bloodline or lineage.  This recollection has often been a source of much strength and encouragement for me over the years.

Paintings inside of Cave 9, one of Ajanta's
oldest. 

Entrance to Cave 10, the
one spotted and entered
by Capt. John Smith.

It's one thing to stroll into a world-class museum and see some lovely paintings by a Renaissance master but it's quite another to view paintings that are thousands of years old in their original setting.  Although time has clearly taken its toll on some of them, I still think it's a miracle that ANY of paintings managed to survive.  The paintings inside of Cave 10, some of which are pictured, were especially vivid.  Looking into the eyes of the painted figures really made me feel as if I were looking not just at an image but into a portal through time and space. 

A view from about half-way through the site.

A front shot of The Viewpoint,
at the top of the hill.

At first, I found the presence of rowdy kids to be very disturbing but as we slowly made our way to the other end of the site, part of me couldn't help but feel like a kid exploring some new, giant playground.  With the steps leading up, down, and around, not knowing what exactly to expect around the corner, and the anticipation of discovering the contents of a new cave, how could I not feel 12 years old?  My silent annoyance had given way to a child-like lightheartedness.


Rather than give a detailed account of each cave, a task far beyond the scope of this post, I'll instead skip to the last one and my favorite, Cave 26.  The cave numbering is not chronological but goes in the order from the main entrance.  Cave 26, at the western end of the site, is the last publicly accessible one.  It is also the largest and perhaps most elaborately decorated.   

Entrance to Cave 26.

A side view of Cave 26's exterior.

Walking in through a side entrance, one is greeted with a magnificent relief of a reclining buddha on one side and intricately decorated columns on the other.  On the other side of the cave wall are rows of stone buddhas reliefs, effortlessly sitting and standing in utter bliss.

 




















The atmosphere of Cave 26 was very different from all the others.  It was not a dimly lit, cramped retreat space but rather a bright and cavernous grand hall.  And in the center of it all was a large stupa.  This cave served as a chaitya, or place of assembly for the people who lived and studied at Ajanta.  Although I hadn't come with and wasn't waiting on a big group, standing in the middle of this place did make me feel as if I were a part of something.  What did I feel a part of?  I can't say for sure, except that it felt very special.

Stupa in the middle of Cave 26.

At this point, my mother and I had seen all of the caves but there was still one place that remained to be explored, the place where Ajanta's (modern) history began: the Viewpoint.  From Cave 26 we made our way toward a path that led downward to an old bridge spanning the "river".  A clearly marked trail snaked its way up to the top.  Stopping at a middle point offered another interesting perspective on the Ajanta site.

Trail up to the Viewpoint.

From the top.

Underneath the canopy at the top, we found some much needed benches, an Indian fellow who suavely inquired if we were interested in buying "most special mineral crystals from the region", and some pleasant, chatty travelers from Korea.  Relaxing in the shade, looking at the caves, and especially noticing the many people weaving their way from one cave into another was a simultaneously relaxing and bizarre experience.  It felt relaxing because the Viewpoint, with its shade, benches, and view, is just a great place to kick back.  It felt bizarre because seeing the people go in and out of the caves made me feel as if I were watching myself do the same and being aware of me watching myself, like an actor breaking the fourth wall.  Or maybe I just needed some water and to chill out a bit more.

After snapping some panorama shots, we leisurely strolled toward the exit at the main gate.  Although it was mid-afternoon, we had chosen a good time to depart since it seemed that half the population of Maharashtra state decided to visit at this time.  Before leaving, I popped in to Cave 1 for a last look at Padmapani Bodhisattva.  With a reverent sentiment of farewell, I walked out with a smile on my face and the feeling that at some point I will return.  There is, after all, much business to attend to.

Anatomy of a Pilgrimage: Ellora

Ravana lifting Mount Kailash.

View of the Deccan pleateau
from Daulautabad Fortress.

It was just after 10am but the sun was already bearing down on us. The arid Deccan landscape reminded me of the sweeping landscapes seen in the Old Wild West movies, be they spaghetti or otherwise. After much planning and anticipation we were finally here, standing at the threshold to the Ellora caves in India. Wow.

The Jain Caves at Ellora.

The first cave of our visit.

In early 2008, I had the great fortune to visit the famous cave temples of Ellora with my mother.  Our "base camp" was a nice hotel in the city of Aurangabad, located about 400 km (~200 mi) east of Mumbai. Although Aurangabad proper dates from the Mughal era, the region has a much longer history. Located in the western Indian state of Maharashtra, the sites in and around Aurangabad, I dare say, encompass nearly all of the major influences on Indian history and culture. In addition to famous Hindu temples, Sufi shrines, and the Jain/Hindu/Buddhist cave temples of Ajanta and Ellora , you'll also find the tomb of the great Mughal emperor, Aurangzeb, from whom the city takes its name. While it's an up and coming boom town on the forefront of India's development, the city is still very much in touch with its heritage and has even been designated the "Tourism Capital of Maharashtra" due to its role as a tourist hub.

After breakfast, we met up with our driver (a pleasant local fellow) and arranged the day’s itinerary: a trip to Ellora with a visit to the nearby Daulatabad Fortress on the way back.  Before heading to India I made it a point to learn as much Hindi as I could and made sure to pack my Lonely Planet Hindi/Urdu Phrasebook.  While one can easily get by with English in India, especially in the big urban areas, we quickly found out that the locals really appreciated any attempt, regardless of accuracy, to communicate in a local tongue (India, has more than 20 official languages).  In the present situation, I decided I'd break the ice and practice my very basic level Hindi a bit.  Although Marathi is the official language in this region, Hindi is also widely spoken.

Me: ड्राईवर सहब, आपका नाम क्या है ?

(Driver-Sir, what's your name?)

Javed-Sahab: ओहो! हिन्दी बोलते?! अच्छा अच्छा। मैँ जावेद महोम्मेद अख़तर हूँ।

(Oh! You speak Hindi huh? Great! I'm Javed Mohammed Akhtar.)

After some brief small talk, I then switched the topic to one of utmost seriousness.

Me: आपको अमिताभ बच्चन पसंद है ?

(Do you like Amitabh Bachchan?)[the Bollywood Megastar and arguably the most famous man in India]

Javed-Sahab: जी, ज़रूर! वो सबसे अच्छा है !

(Of course! He's the greatest!)

To quote Mark Twain quoting a proverb in "A Tramp Abroad", a little learning makes the whole world kin.  This was especially true in India, as speaking a bit of Hindi in the northern parts seemed to instantly transform us from run of the mill tourists into honored travelers.

Map of the Ellora site.  Original source unknown.

Ellora (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) is comprised of three cave groups; Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain. The Buddhist caves are the oldest (5^th – 7^th Century CE), followed by the Hindu (6^th – 9^th Century CE) and Jain caves (8^th – 11^th Century CE). The drive from Aurangabad took about 30 minutes and began with us being dropped off by the Jain caves, which are  tucked away from the cluster of Hindu and Buddhist ones.

Boisterous kids were a common
sight during the trip.

The thing that caught my attention was the not the elegantly chiseled statues of Tirthankars or the big Indian families with rowdy, rampaging kids but the floor. While visiting most caves, in accordance with Indian tradition (and to help preservation efforts) one's shoes must come off. The feeling of my bare feet in contact with the warm and amazingly smooth stone was an unfamiliar yet pleasant experience. I'm not sure if the floors were polished by the builders, if this rock type is naturally so smooth, or if the surface had been weathered over the centuries, but I really felt "grounded' in the most literal sense.  The warmth of the floor was due to the fact that although it was the "winter season" in India, the temperature even in the late morning was a toasty 27 °C (80 °F).

The smooth, warm floor in the one of the Jain caves.

My initial feeling of wandering through the caves was one of pure wonder. It was as if I had walked in to another place in time.  The alternation between waves of peaceful, meditative stillness and chaotic noise (courtesy of the previously mentioned wild child gang, boisterous school kids, and miscellaneous loud^-mouthed folks) was an interesting contrast that recurred throughout all the sites of Ellora.

Jain sages are readily
identified by their lack of clothes.

Having explored the Jain caves, we then took a quick drive down to the main site to visit what is certainly the crown jewel of Ellora: Kailashnath Temple.  Built over a period of 150 years, there are two immediately striking things about it. The first is that it has a more South Indian architectural style to it.  The second, and more mind blogging, is that the entire thing was carved out from a single, giant piece of rock. Reading the last phrase may not seem so awe inspiring but hopefully the photos can give an idea of the massive scale and fine detail the temple is famous for.

The relief of Ravana moving Mount
Kailash, shown in the title image,
can be seen at the bottom.

Kailashnath Temple was built to be a mystical representation of the real Mount Kailash in the Himalayas, where Hindus believe Lord Shiva dwells. Thus, the temple itself is dedicated to Shiva. After exploring much of the "ground level" and side caves, my mom and I headed to the central structure that contained the inner sanctum. A simple room housed a shrine with a Shiva lingam in the center. A number of people (locals and tourists alike) took the opportunity to offer prayers and enjoy the serenity of a spot far removed from the constant hustle and bustle of the rest of the site. The fact that Kailash Temple was still functioning as a "living temple" and not simply a touristy showpiece inspired and also reminded me that I had come to Ellora (and later Ajanta) not really as a tourist but as a pilgrim.

Sculpture of Nandi, the bull
and loyal servant of Shiva.

Around one of the Hindu caves.

From Kailashnath Temple, we wandered through some more of the adjacent Hindu caves. Although they were  similar to the Jain caves, albeit with Hindu iconography, I was pleasantly surprised by what occured inside one of them.

Places like Ellora draw all kinds of visitors from all kinds of backgrounds and India is certainly a place that has many, many ethnic, religious, linguistic, and socio-economic backgrounds.  Thus, I didn't make too much of an elderly Muslim man with some of his grandchildren nicely sitting on the floor in the middle of Cave 15. It was also no surprise when they began their noon prayers (dhuhr - صلاة الظهر) facing Mecca. Watching from afar however, I slowly realized I was witnessing a wonderfully unusual scene that illustrated the beauty of Indian pluralism. Here was a Muslim family praying inside of a Hindu cave with their direction of prayer that just happened to be facing the centrally placed Shiva lingam! Almost as if on cue, the family finished their prayers just as a group of French tourists leisurely strolled in.

French tourists stylishly exploring the caves.

Our visit concluded with the Buddhist set of caves. We decided to "go in order" and start with the oldest (and farthest off) cave, Number 1. Although it and the other earlier caves were quite bare in the decorative sense, there was nonetheless a simple, utilitarian beauty to them.

The reliefs and sculptures of buddhas, bodhisattvas, and various celestial beings I saw throughout the caves somehow felt very natural. The rock-cut architectural style made everything seem so organic, as if the sculptures weren't carved by master artisans centuries ago but rather naturally grew out from the earth itself.

The statues and reliefs have been subjected to centuries of weathering as well as some abuse at human hands but they still effortlessly maintain their serene postures and calm, subduing expressions.  The caves at this end of Ellora were also much quieter as not many people were visiting them at this particular time.  In fact, we often had the caves all to ourselves or, at the very least, the other visitors were also very quiet.

Cave 10 is a unique hall known as the 'Carpenter's Cave'.  The name comes from Vishvakarma, the Hindu deity of craftsmen and architects.  The large, seated buddha in the teaching pose (Dharmacakra Mudra) as well as the unique style of the hall itself (more reminiscent of the older caves at Ajanta) make it Ellora's most well known Buddhist cave.

My personal favorite of all the caves would have to be Cave 12.  Dubbed teen tal, meaning 'three floors', the third and uppermost floor contains rows of bodhisattvas flanking a row of buddhas on the center of the hall.

While taking in the physical beauty and spiritual nourishment from the cave temples, my thoughts soon shifted to their long history.  Where I come from (USA), anything that's been around for more than 200 years is considered very, very old. What then, am I supposed to make of things which are 2000 years old?  For centuries, people who had completely devoted their lives to spiritual cultivation had studied, prayed, meditated, worked, and lived at Ellora, right where I was walking around.    I then wondered: what condition will our cities, schools, and monuments be in thousands of years from now? Will tourists throng to see the ruins of the White House or the head of the Statue of Liberty in a museum?  Perhaps tour groups will roam ancient centers of learning like Berkeley and MIT or even look upon the aged remains of the NASA platforms that launched human beings into space. 

Overall, my mother and I had spent about 4 hours at Ellora and visited most of caves although we had to skip a few of the more far flung Hindu caves.  One could easily spend an entire day there, however. I'd love to return again, not simply to see sites I missed, but to once again be in the midst of a place that is, in so many ways, beyond time.

A previous version of this post appeared on my previous blog, Bodhi Leaves.  As the topic fit perfectly for Bodhi Steps, I decided to post this slightly expanded version.