How Enlightening

The part of India around Varanasi was Siddhartha Gautama's old stomping grounds. You may better know him as The Buddha. While Buddhism got its start in India and flourished for a time, at present, Buddhists comprise less than 2% of the population.

Siddhartha was a prince born in present day Nepal about 2500 years ago. Of course his actual history has been obscured by time and myth, but the legend goes something like this: Before his birth, it was predicted that he would become either a great king or spiritual teacher. His father was more excited about the king option and did everything he could to shield the young prince from life's unpleasantness, thinking that would prevent any ideas about a spiritual life. But, as these stories often go, this very shielding created the conditions to turn Siddhartha to the other path. He was pampered, living a life of luxury and sequestered from the world beyond the palace. Eventually, despite his father's efforts, the young prince saw three things that deeply disturbed him: a old person, a ill person, and a dead person. Life's suffering was revealed to him and he was determined to find a way to out of it.

He also came across a religious man, an ascetic, a person who has renounced the world to search for spiritual truths. Leaving his life and family at the age of 29, Siddartha joined a group of ascetics to follow a strict discipline of fasting and self-mortification, the antithesis of his life as a prince. In time he came to see the that the extremes of indulgence and deprivation did not lead to genuine happiness. This is what he called the Middle Way. Determined to reach the the truth about suffering, he sat in meditation under what is now know as the Bodhi tree, vowing not to rise until he discovered that truth. When this was accomplished he became The Buddha, which means "The Enlightened One."

He gave his first sermon to five of his former, fellow ascetics. He talked about the Middle Way and what are known as the Four Nobel Truths. The Buddha has been likened to a doctor, The Four Nobel Truths being the diagnosis, cause, prognosis and treatment of problem of suffering. They are:

• Life is suffering or dissatisfaction. The way I understand it, this means that we're tormented in big and subtle ways because our lives are never exactly how we want them to be. We have to be around things (and people) that we don't like, we we pine for things we don't have, etc.


• The cause of this suffering is craving or desire.

• There is a way out of this suffering.


• The way out is known as The Eightfold Path: right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration. This is The Buddha's prescription for the end of suffering.

I have, on occasion, called myself a Buddhist; mostly to give an quick and easy answer to the question what is your religion?, but I'm not really interested in belief systems especially ones that require nothing more than faith. Buddhism over the years has acquired its fair share of superstitions and fantastic ideas (I've seen plenty of it on this trip) but the Buddha explicitly stated that he was nothing more than a man that saw a way to end suffering.

I've always been curious about why I am the way I am, why I do the things I do and why I suffer. Meditation (right mindfulness and right concentration in the Eightfold Path) is what I find most helpful in that pursuit. What is meditation? I think my Zen teacher's answer to that would be sit down and see for yourself, but I'm not as wise as my Zen teacher so I'll tell you what it is for me: it is a tool for seeing. Sometimes the things we're closest to are the the things we don't really see or question. And nothing is closer than our self. Meditation for me has been a process of looking, questioning and peeling away my beliefs in order to see myself and the world with fresh eyes. I see it as a way of cultivating, peace, compassion and wonder.

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time -- T. S. Eliot

Okay, that's enough philosophy.

Since I was in the area, I decided to make a couple of pilgrimages to a couple of Buddhist sites: Sarnath, where the Buddha gave his first sermon and Buddhism's most important site, Bodhgaya, where he attained enlightenment.

Sarnath is only a half hour ride from Varanasi, so I went there on day trip. It was a open, quiet place and a nice change from exciting but mildly claustrophobic Varanasi. This is the stupa that marks the spot where The Buddha gave that first sermon on The Four Nobel Truths.

Bodhgaya is only a few hours away from Varanasi so I decided to visit for a few days. It turns out the train to Bodhgaya left Varanasi at 2:00 in the morning. Towns and cities in India (and Nepal for that matter) roll up the streets pretty early, so I wasn't thrilled about making my way through the dark, abandoned alleys of the old city to find a ride to the train station so late at night. To my relief, it turns out a guy named Mat was heading the same way--we had had a couple of adventures together in Varanasi and I really enjoyed his company. He's a journalist from New Zealand and is writing a book about his experiences as a recovering alcoholic traveling the world visiting different Alcoholic Anonymous meetings. Around the World in 80 AA's, he's calling it.

At about midnight, we made our way out of the old city to a main street hoping to get a bicycle or auto-rickshaw to the train station. I was immediately glad he was with me. The place looked like some kind of post-apocalyptic vision. There were small fires at every other corner with wraith-like Indians huddled around them. Others were stumbling around in a daze. Someone came up behind us and asked us if we needed a ride somewhere. He looked harmless enough, but the bicycle rickshaw driver he roused certainly didn't. I don't know if he was still half asleep or on something but I was happy it was a bicycle and nothing that could go more than a few miles an hour. After haggling for a fair price, we slung our packs onto the rickshaw and headed to the station. Even though the rickshaw was completely open, it gave me enough psychological distance from the otherworldly Varanasi night that I was enjoying that exhilarating sweet spot that lies between uncertainty and fear.

After about five minutes into the ride, the driver, struggling under the load, spins around and hands us a screeching micro cassette player. "Music," he said. Mat took it in his hand; we looked at each other and busted up laughing. You just never know what's going to happen in India, you really don't. The tape would speed up and slow down or just stop until we gave it a good whack. It was painful to listen to, but when we learned it was music from his wedding we decided to keep it on till we arrived. Mat snapped a quick picture.

The train station looked like a refugee camp. There were literally hundreds, perhaps thousands of Indians sleeping on the floor in neat rows. I assumed they were all waiting for a train, but who knows. The train was an hour late, but I easily found my berth and had an uneventful if not chilly ride to Gaya. It was another half hour ride to Bodhgaya by auto-rickshaw.

Bodhgaya is a dusty, little town whose sole existence seems to be due to the Mahabodhi Temple, which marks the spot of the Buddha's enlightenment. Many countries, including Thailand, China, Japan, Tibet, have built temples in the surrounding area, some of them quite beautiful. The town was filled to capacity with monks and other pilgrims because the Karmapa lama was in town giving teachings. Apparently he's next in importance after the Dalai Lama in Tibetan Buddhism.

While I was getting settled in the hotel, Mat went out to get some tea. When he returned, he told me he had met a "nice Indian kid who bought me some chai." "I've got a good feeling about him," he added. We'd both been in India long enough to mistrust any English speaking local that approached us, so the second comment was necessary. Mat invited me to join them for a walk around town. I accepted the offer.

Sure enough, he was a nice guy. He was very personable and I liked him immediately. His name was Rohit and he claimed to be a seventeen year old college student. The three of us walked around for a while, Rohit telling us about his life in Bodhgaya. At one point, he asked us what we were up to next. Mat and I were hungry and agreed that lunch was our next step. "Why don't you come out to my village for lunch," he offered. We readily agreed, both curious and excited to visit a local's home. "First I have to borrow a friend's motorcycle," he said. After a short walk we came to a guest house where we met some of his friends, also very nice guys. They were older and one of them, it was casually mentioned, worked at a local orphanage. A flag went up for me. Bodhgaya is in one of the poorer regions of India and many charity organizations have set up shop there. Unfortunately, this has led to a slew of fake ones: the local scam. Once again, the Lonely Planet came through, as I'd just read the warning the day before.

The three of us got on the motorcycle and headed out to his village. Mat had forgotten his camera so we stopped at the hotel to pick it up. Rohit stayed with the bike and I went in with Mat. "I think we're getting scammed," I said. Mat shrugged, "they're not getting any money out of me." I agreed. What the hell, let's go with it, I thought.

It was a short ride to the village where we zipped passed goats, drying grain and women in colorful saris carrying urns on their heads. We stopped at one of the many mud brick houses and were introduced to Rohit's "family." After brief introductions, we were ushered into Rohit's "room."

At this point it was so obviously choreographed that I was almost laughing. Less than ten minutes after we arrived a big plate of dahl and rice appeared.

Shortly after that, Rohit's "uncle" came into the room. He also worked at the orphanage that was so casually mentioned earlier. And finally an incredibly cute little boy and his English book found his way into the room. He is, of course, one of the orphans.

"Do you want to go on the roof to get a better view of the village?," Rohit asked. "Sure, why not?" We made our way to the roof where the school for the orphans was pointed out. That's when a binder, with all their good works, was sprung on us. "Perhaps you'd like to help out?" Mat and I, knowing what was up, decided to play a little, too. "Of course we would! This is such wonderful work you're doing. We would love to help." We then made a big show of handing over 100 rupees each ($2.50). We had decided this was worth lunch and the entertainment. Luckily there was no complaint about the amount, but suddenly, a now deflated Rohit decided that "we'd better be getting back."

Knowing it was a scam we had fun with it, and we did get to see a bit of life outside the cities. I've had moments since when I've wondered if, perhaps, they were on the level. But, either way, we were lured out to the village under false pretenses. Incidentally, in a The Usual Suspects moment, that night at dinner, I noticed the name brand of our bottle of chili sauce was--Rohit.

My intention was to do a short meditation class or retreat at one of the few centers in town but they were either closed, between courses or busy with the big event. I did take advantage of an hour of zazen, or Zen sitting meditation, offered in the evenings at the local Japanese temple. This is tradition in which I received my first meditation instruction and have worked with since, so I was right at home. The event with the Karmapa was also open to the public, so I was able to attend that as well.

The Mahabodhi Temple sits next to the spot where Siddartha attained enlightenment. The temple is surrounded by gardens and is quite beautiful. When I had imagined the it, I pictured it as a calm, quiet place, but with the Karmapa there, the temple and gardens were overflowing with people, mostly monks in maroon and saffron colored robes. There were events all day long but I couldn't understand anything--it was all in Tibetan--but the times I went, it was mostly chanting so it didn't matter much.

The Buddha attained enlightenment while sitting in meditation under what is now known as the Bodhi tree. In the picture below, that tree is the one you see just to the left of the temple (actually, it's a descendant of the original tree). You can also see a few of the monks attending the teachings of the Karmapa.

It's hard to tell from the picture above, but there's something of a high fence that separates the gardens (where the monks are) from a wide walkway around the base of the temple. The fence made it possible to visit the Bodhi tree, even though it was the focal point of this huge gathering.

The picture above was taken in the walkway I mentioned. The tree behind the fence is the Bodhi tree. As luck would have it, there was space for me to sit on a ledge along the fence. This picture was taken my vantage point. There were a few monks sitting next to me and they made me feel right at home. Some of the young monks would come around with big kettles of chai and those around me made sure I got a cup. I can't tell you what a wonderful experience this was. Just behind me hundreds of monks were chanting in Tibetan (beautifully, I might add) while I was sitting about 50 feet from the place of the Buddha's enlightenment. It was quite powerful.

In the picture above, you can see the actual spot under the Bodhi tree where the Buddha attained enlightenment, marked by the "Diamond Throne."

A couple more Bodhgaya pictures:

I ended up staying in Bodhgaya for a few days, immersed in the mystique of the place. I left on Christmas Eve. That was the day of that trying 17 hour train ride I mentioned in a past post. Next stop: Agra, home of the Taj Mahal.