Sanchi

Journey to  Sanchi

I caught the wonderful Shatabadi express train from Jansi to Bhopal. In the air conditioned carriages waiters serve lunch to all the passengers: tomato soup, followed by rice, dhal, chapattis and pickle. There was also curd, butter and ice cream, which I didn’t eat. The food is included in the price of the ticket (£4 in my case – for a three hour journey without stops. I think I travelled 400km.

The next part of the journey was in complete contrast. I got down into the hot station at Bhopal and went to see whether I could catch a train to Sanchi, 40 km from Bhopal. Yes I could, an official told me, and the booking office was this way. So I queued up and waited, only to be told by the ticket salesman “No ticket to Sanchi”. Luckily a man in the queue came to my rescue. He took me back to another railway official, who told him, in Hindi, that I had to stand in a different queue for tickets for local trains.

When the train stopped the crowd rushed the doors, completely blocking them for the passengers trying to get out. Eventually they left a tiny gap for alighting passengers to squeeze through, but when they had all managed to get off I was pushed, shoved, bruised and carried forward towards the door of the train. As I climbed up the steps with my backpack on my back people tried to squeeze past me on both sides. My back pack stuck in the door, blocked by the people trying  to squeeze past. I could not move. I screamed at the top of my voice until someone moved an inch and I was released, and landed in the train corridor, which was packed. More and more people squeezed in, the last two sitting on the steps leading up to the open doorway. The train started and now, suddenly, all those people, who would have killed me and each other to get in first, became most solicitous, letting me know that Sanchi was the first stop, that the platform was on the left hand side and offering me a seat on half of the Sadhu’s luggage, which was stuffed into the corner behind the toilet. “No thank you” I indicated “I prefer to be near the door, for a quick exit, before my way out is blocked by manic people trying to get in.” All conveyed by signs. At Sanchi they lifted my backpack over their heads to the exit, as I squeezed myself out onto the platform, and cheerily waved me goodbye.

I wanted to walk up the hill to the stupa that evening but my way was blocked by an officious little man, who let all the Indians through but demanded I buy a ticket. The ticket booth was shut. I walked up an alternative road, paved with enormous stones, until I came to a hole in the fence, where some villagers told me to go through. By the time I reached the top it was too dark to see the stupa, but it was peaceful looking down on the dusty plains, lights dotted about in the villages round the hill. I could hear a TV, presumably of the guardian of the stupa. Happy to have avoided staying in the big city of Bhopal  for one night, I went back to my guest house, very tired, and despite the continuous goods trains rushing through the station, blowing their piercing whistles all night, I slept.

Sanchi

The two thousand year old Buddhist stupa at Sanchi, on top of a rounded hill, was built by the Mauryan emperor Ashoka, who embraced Buddhism as a penance for his misdeeds. He built it in 262 BC to house some relics of the Buddha. In the first century BC four stone gateways were added, built out of beautiful soft golden sandstone. The gateways were carved from top to bottom on all four sides with scenes from the Buddha’s life, scenes from the Jataka tales and the tree of Manushi, which represents the Buddha. This sheds new light on ancient tree worship, which Buddhism incorporated into its earliest form. On one of the gates animals all look up to a Manushi tree, as if worshipping it. On another gate the Buddha  is represented by lotus flowers and on yet another by the wheel of life. Nowhere on these gates is Buddha depicted as human. It was not until seven centuries later that stone statues of Buddha were installed.

In 1818 Captain Johnson opened up the stupa from top to bottom on one side, seeking treasure. The western gateway and part of the enclosed balustrades collapsed. Other British treasure seekers excavated the second and third stupa and found caskets of relics within. They caused an immense amount of damage. Then in 1880 John Marshall, director General of Archeology in India, cleared the jungle that had grown up around the stupas and repaired them.

The day before 200 Sri Lankan pilgrims visited the stupa and completely filled the Sri Lankan Pilgrim Hostel, where I would have stayed if it had not been full. But on the day I visited it, it was peaceful and I had only a few Indian tourists and chirruping birds for company.

The stupa is impressive because it is so old, but the stone gateways, a thousand years older than the temples at Khajuraho, are so intricately and beautifully carved and so well preserved that I am left gazing at them in wonder.

I sit on each of the benches under the thick, shady trees, in turn, to marvel at the carved gateways. Behind the stupa are the ruins of a Buddhist monastery that looks down on the golden wheat fields, dotted with dark green trees, on the plains below, the hills in the distance showing vaguely through the dust. Did the monks enjoy the sweet perfume of the frangipani tree, like the one standing by the monastery wall today?

the internet connection here is so rubbish that it won't let me upload any more pictures!!!