Pilgrimage to India: Chapter One : Setting the Scene in Bodhgaya


© Yeshe Chodon

The pilgrimage to India far, far exceeded my expectations. My fears and dreads about India melted away after the first day or two--not without a major freakout in Singapore, but that is definitely another story. The pilgrimage turned out to be a rich experience of inestimable value. The unquestioned success of the mission is due to Lobsang Samten--a guide, font of knowledge, inspiration, and friend who worked tirelessly in our behalf.

So much went on that it has to be divided into chapters for the retelling, and the first chapter should be the focus of our first ten days there, His Holiness' teachings at Bodhgaya. In this February column, I can but set the stage. In future columns, I'll deal with some of the following topics: the content of the teachings; the proven necessity for having a firm grip on the absurd when one travels in India; our group audience with His Holiness--nobody had a word to say--Dharamsala, grown-up hippie paradise; and my visit with Venerable Palden Gyatso who, as you may know, endured 30 years of torture in prison under the Chinese and is now a free man, living in Dharamsala and travelling the world for the cause of human rights.

Bodhgaya: Scene for Dalai Lama's Teachings, Dec. 1999
Bodhgaya should be on everybody's once-in-a-lifetime list. Not only is it a draw for spiritual seekers the world over, but it is a monument to the power of world Buddhism.Donations must have poured in from all over the planet to create, in the middle of Bihar,the poorest state in India, an oasis of temples, modern guest houses, restaurants, the monumental Mahabodhi Temple, even a mall--Indian style. Soon this region will also feature the Maitreya project...parks, hospital, school, zoological gardens surrounding a massive statue of Maitreya Buddha.

For the Dalai Lama's teachings, Dec. 19-29, every vendor, merchant, beggar and acrobat in Bihar appeared. Hopefully, most made a profit, maybe even enough to live on when the tourists go home.

One could buy beautiful shawls, prayer flags, candles, singing bowls, malas, silk threads, fabrics, T-shirts, blankets, dorjes, jewelry, parrots, live fish captured from the local river, tinware, various non-functional objects such as scissors that wouldn't open or close, necklaces of dried cheese, postcards, thangkas, paintings and a wealth of other goods for absurdly low prices.

Beggars were everywhere. Picture rows of women in faded saris, draped in blankets. It is a dismal, fog-blanketed dawn. They squat in silent rows, hands outstretched, as the tourists rush by for dawn meditations at the great Mahabodhi Temple. Picture magnificent temples--each more opulent than the last--one for almost each country that has a Buddhist tradition--Japan, Thailand, Bhutan, Tibet, China all represented--rising next door to squalid makeshift shelters housing Indians who sell peanuts all day for a living and sleep on the peanut cart at night.

 

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