Buddha

By Allan

After getting off a bus whose metal exterior had been abused by other buses and whose gas tank was nearly empty because the Maoist strikes shut down all the petrol stations, we stood on a dark, dusty, corner in the middle of nowhere Nepal. The half-a-block main road did have street lights, but on this night the power in the town was out. We settled into a guest house on the dark road after our 12 hour bumpy bus ride, nursing smashed knees after sitting on seats made for midgets. This tiny dark flat peasant-filled, mosquito farmland is birth place of Siddhartha Gautama. Also known as Buddha. Between India and Nepal there are four main pilgrimage sites that practicing Buddhists go to. At the time we didn’t know that we would be stopping at three of the four sites, so it was fitting that the first be his birthplace, Lumbini, Nepal.

A massive temple now stands on the exact spot Buddha was born. There is a bright green rock and a worn out statue which mark the spot. The site was forgotten about for centuries until it was re-discovered in the early 1900’s as Buddha’s birthplace. In 1997 it was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the building of giant temples began with each Buddhist country building their own temple around a giant park. In the past twelve years a handful of upscale hotels have been built to accommodate tour groups from China, Korea, Japan, Thailand, and Burma. Earlier this year, the Chinese government pledged a few million dollars to build a five star hotel, a golf course, a business center, and other tourist facilities.

I am not against having the facilities to bring people to this important historical site. But when people travel in giant groups of 40 they disturb and pervert the atmosphere of these supposedly holy places. As we stood at the spot of Buddha's birth, our silence and awe was shattered when a Korean group walked into the temple. Around the neck of their guide hung a giant speaker turned to full blast so the next town over could hear his nonstop Korean explanation of the importance of the place. Maybe if I spoke Korean I would not have minded. But the speaker's high-pitched voice ushered us out of the temple in a hurry. Contemplating the ways in which one man has impacted the world for 2,500 years is not easy with a loud speaker blasting in your ear. Luckily for us we found a perfect tree, covered in prayer flags, under which we wasted away the afternoon in complete silence.

The next day we made our way back into India to another Buddhist pilgrimage stop. Bodh Gaya is where Buddha sat under a Bodhi tree and became enlightened. A distant relative of that original tree still grows in the exact location. Next to the tree a giant temple commemorates where Buddha sat. Thousands of monks and Tibetan refugees settle here for the winter, and the Dalai Lama usually makes an appearance as well. We spent 5 days relaxing in the shadows of the temple complex while monks walked clockwise around the complex chanting mantras.

Our next stop on the Buddhist pilgrimage circuit was a cave in a tiny poverty filled village outside of Bodh Gaya. The 45 minute ride to the cave requires traveling on a road that is destroyed yearly by the monsoon. Instead of potholes, the rickshaw (think rusty three-wheeled golf cart) must dodge mini swimming pools. This uncomfortable ride prevents most tourists from making the journey. Local Buddhist organizations have offered money to build a new road to the holy caves, but the state government refused. I can only guess that the bribe that accompanied the construction money was not big enough.

The walk up to the cave, where Buddha spent 6 years alone in meditation, was one of the more difficult things I have done in India. It was difficulty not to the physical body, but the mental one. It was a 20 minute hike on a path lined with beggars--hundreds of beggars in tattered clothes, and most of them children. This ate away at my conscience. Questions streamed through my head. How can I help them? If I give one of them food or money what about the rest? If tourists keep giving money will it not only attract more beggars? What will they do with the money? Why should tourists be expected to solve India's problems? Can't these beggars become farmers like the rest on India? As thoughts devoid of any compassion filled my head it was ironic that we were arriving at a place where the “Compassionate One” learned to be compassionate. It is just another way India tests your true persona. It challenges you in the most extreme way it can at the exact right moment, and exposes your cracks that need to be patched.

Inside the tiny cave, smaller than my old bedroom, a gold statue of Buddha represents the work he had done there. Sitting in quiet meditation with Nicole and Keith along the back wall, I felt an uncomfortable presence in the cave. My eyes opened slowly to an Indian family staring at me and holding a video camera pointed straight at me. It wasn't the cave or the statue that peaked their interests--the three white people would obviously make a better home video. While smiling into the camera for an uncomfortable 10 seconds I couldn't stop myself from laughing. The family came to visit this place, which is filled with so much history and wonderful energy, but the most interesting thing they found was me! (In a weird way I felt bad for them.) As I looked past the cameraman's shoulder to the big Buddha I swear I saw a smile stretch across the statue's face in amusement.