Black buddha
061212.1704
The Black Buddha is located outside the walls of the collection of ruins which was incesite of Nalanda University. Perhaps the greatest place of learning by the 7th Century CE, it is hard to imagine that the crumbling brick walls overgrown with wild weed and fallen pillars seen today once formed part of an institution that housed over ten thousands resident students and teachers hailing from all over India, Sri Lanka, Tibet, China and even as far away as Java and Korea.
I followed a path that led me past fields of lush green grass and yellow flowers, grazing cows and children playing (and one or two running after me, begging...). Three uniformed soldiers each wielding long guns stood by the gates of the little shrine I intended to visit.
"Black Buddha? Come!" one soldier shouted and gestured me to follow him. Two others shouted something at a crowd of a dozen or so men who loitered around the little shrine, and the crowd soon dispersed. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched my every move before they seemed to just disappear.
"One visitor?" The soldier who till now accompanied me to the shrine asked. I replied with a nod. He did not (have to) see the two bears and a sapcemokey hiding in my backpack.
I paid respects to the Buddha, who sat in a meditation pose. His body was black as charcoal, which contrasted greatly with the garlands of brightly coloured flowers. As it was the Thai people who sponsored this shrine, parts of the Buddha's body were covered with gold. Thais believe it is auspicious to stick pieces of gold leaf onto statues of the Lord Buddha or of highly revered monks. I bowed three times, three times signifying showing reverence to the Buddha, the Dhamma (Buddha's teachings), and the Sangha (the community of monks and nuns who strive to live the life and example of The Enlightened One). The gesture of bowing is in and of itself humbling, for you are (literally) lowering yourself, kneeling and bowing with your head and hands completely
on the ground. It is not merely a sign of respect, but also, I was once told, a means to rid yourself of ego and lower the "self". On this trip so far, I have lowered myself countless times before statues of the Buddha, stupas, which (once) contain(ed) parts of his remains or belongings, and before crumbling monuments, where once great monasteries or temples stood.
A few candles flickered in the breeze. With closed eyes, I kneeled before the Black Buddha, I mentally thought of loved ones, friends and all beings in the world. "May they be happy, may they be free from suffering..."
There was the sweet smell of incense in the air, and the light of dusk cast a calming glow on all around me. But I felt uneasy, for the solider stood just metres away from me, and I felt my every move observed and scrutinised. So I stood up to leave.
The soldier followed me and escorted me to the gate. Two of his companions joined the escort.
The first soldier said something in Hindi, which I of course did not understand. But I did catch the word "rupee", and I immediately understood what he wanted.
Money. Isn't that what most people circling around a foreigner wants? Being a member of the armed forces, wearing an uniform that looks dignified and commands respect did not change the fact he wanted money. Shameless, for he was no better than the truly impoverish and desperate I've encountered over the past few days.
I played dumb, as a friend suggested me to do. And having tried it a couple of times, especially by pretending not to understand English, the annoying touts and swindlers automatically do go away. "No understand..." I said, and cocked my head to one side, trying to look confused.
"Das rupee [...] Das rupee" he said between long unintelligible sentences, meaning ten rupees.
I screwed up my face, shook my head and looked him right in the eye. "Heh? Heh? No understand..."
It was then that I was reminded he had a big gun under his arm. I don't recall being scared, at least not at that moment, but felt more insulted than anything else. This shrine is a public place, open to people to come and worship. The Dhamma cannot be sold or bought at any price. Was I being foolhardy, not fully aware what danger I was getting myself into in order not to part with a meagre ten rupees ($0.20)?
It really came down to principles. The idea of giving in to corruption sickens me and makes my furious. But I am aware that corruption is endemic and widespread in India (and much of the developing world...) Corruption, as a matter of fact, sad fact, often is what makes the bureaucratic machinery function. Even a supposedly developed place like Quebec is rampant with corruption, especially when dealing with the construction of public works. In India, however, it is the everyday individual who has to encounter corrupt officials who have little regard for dignity of the public office they hold, and more regard for filling their own pockets. Mentally, I replayed a conversation I had with a local who said corruption is "killing" India. It also gets him infuriated, and just the other day, he made a whole scene at the train station because he had been queuing almost an hour at the train station to refund his ticket. When it was his turn, the counter agent said he couldn't cancel and refund the ticket, even though moments earlier he did just that for another customer. When asked why he couldn't refund the ticket, the counter agent said he didn't "know" my friend. The scene seemed to have set which implied the agent wanted to "know" Mahatma Ghandi, whose face is on all Indian bills.
Was I being too full of myself and thinking I could change something by resisting to be part of an endemic problem that for decades has been systematic and engrained in society and politics? At that moment, I was literally looking at barrel of the gun, but I did not flinch. Was it worth it to make a stand here, in the middle of an isolated village, being completely alone and surrounded by strange men (there were, as is case I imagine in the rest of the country, only men around...), when my life could potentially be at stake?
"No understand..." I said, screwing up my face again. One of the soldier's companions smiled, said something and shook his head. Then he gestured for me to leave. I took that as a sign the attempt at squeezing money out of a lone traveller failed.
I walked out the gates, past the crowd of people who suddenly appeared and swarmed around me. Vendors hawking their tacky souvenirs, postcards and Buddha statues, beggars with dirty and outstretched hands or clanking metal bowls, children who like to say: "Hello! Hello, sir!" I walked through the crowd, looked down at the ground, and pretended not to hear the random words throw at me in Japanese or English some have managed to learn, which I suppose are meant to attract more attention, if not sympathy. Do not look back, do not respond, I realised after several days and countless encounters, or otherwise there will be no end, and the swarm will only grow ever bigger.
My footsteps quickened. Suddenly out of nowhere, an image, as if from a badly scripted Bollyhood movie, flashed across my mind and sent shivers down my spine. The visor of the gun aimed at a tall boy carrying a black rucksack hurrying on a path across the field... Gunshots... News headlines of a foreigner killed because he refused to give in to demands for a few rupees...
I did not look back to see where the soldiers were or what they were doing. A cow stood by the side of the road and kept its head down until it heard my approaching footsteps. Gracefully the cow eyed me with a bemused look. Perhaps the cow, in India a highly revered creature, has seen it all far too often. In its dark eyes I found traces of wisdom both amusing and profound. Why is it that human beings resort to extortion and intentionally want to harm others? Why are we so driven by our feelings and desires, and yet believe we are superior over all other creatures? Why are we always besieged by thoughts and imaginations, fears and memories?
I smiled at the and bowed slightly as I walked past.
061212.1704
The Black Buddha is located outside the walls of the collection of ruins which was incesite of Nalanda University. Perhaps the greatest place of learning by the 7th Century CE, it is hard to imagine that the crumbling brick walls overgrown with wild weed and fallen pillars seen today once formed part of an institution that housed over ten thousands resident students and teachers hailing from all over India, Sri Lanka, Tibet, China and even as far away as Java and Korea.
I followed a path that led me past fields of lush green grass and yellow flowers, grazing cows and children playing (and one or two running after me, begging...). Three uniformed soldiers each wielding long guns stood by the gates of the little shrine I intended to visit.
"Black Buddha? Come!" one soldier shouted and gestured me to follow him. Two others shouted something at a crowd of a dozen or so men who loitered around the little shrine, and the crowd soon dispersed. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched my every move before they seemed to just disappear.
"One visitor?" The soldier who till now accompanied me to the shrine asked. I replied with a nod. He did not (have to) see the two bears and a sapcemokey hiding in my backpack.
I paid respects to the Buddha, who sat in a meditation pose. His body was black as charcoal, which contrasted greatly with the garlands of brightly coloured flowers. As it was the Thai people who sponsored this shrine, parts of the Buddha's body were covered with gold. Thais believe it is auspicious to stick pieces of gold leaf onto statues of the Lord Buddha or of highly revered monks. I bowed three times, three times signifying showing reverence to the Buddha, the Dhamma (Buddha's teachings), and the Sangha (the community of monks and nuns who strive to live the life and example of The Enlightened One). The gesture of bowing is in and of itself humbling, for you are (literally) lowering yourself, kneeling and bowing with your head and hands completely
on the ground. It is not merely a sign of respect, but also, I was once told, a means to rid yourself of ego and lower the "self". On this trip so far, I have lowered myself countless times before statues of the Buddha, stupas, which (once) contain(ed) parts of his remains or belongings, and before crumbling monuments, where once great monasteries or temples stood.
A few candles flickered in the breeze. With closed eyes, I kneeled before the Black Buddha, I mentally thought of loved ones, friends and all beings in the world. "May they be happy, may they be free from suffering..."
There was the sweet smell of incense in the air, and the light of dusk cast a calming glow on all around me. But I felt uneasy, for the solider stood just metres away from me, and I felt my every move observed and scrutinised. So I stood up to leave.
The soldier followed me and escorted me to the gate. Two of his companions joined the escort.
The first soldier said something in Hindi, which I of course did not understand. But I did catch the word "rupee", and I immediately understood what he wanted.
Money. Isn't that what most people circling around a foreigner wants? Being a member of the armed forces, wearing an uniform that looks dignified and commands respect did not change the fact he wanted money. Shameless, for he was no better than the truly impoverish and desperate I've encountered over the past few days.
I played dumb, as a friend suggested me to do. And having tried it a couple of times, especially by pretending not to understand English, the annoying touts and swindlers automatically do go away. "No understand..." I said, and cocked my head to one side, trying to look confused.
"Das rupee [...] Das rupee" he said between long unintelligible sentences, meaning ten rupees.
I screwed up my face, shook my head and looked him right in the eye. "Heh? Heh? No understand..."
It was then that I was reminded he had a big gun under his arm. I don't recall being scared, at least not at that moment, but felt more insulted than anything else. This shrine is a public place, open to people to come and worship. The Dhamma cannot be sold or bought at any price. Was I being foolhardy, not fully aware what danger I was getting myself into in order not to part with a meagre ten rupees ($0.20)?
It really came down to principles. The idea of giving in to corruption sickens me and makes my furious. But I am aware that corruption is endemic and widespread in India (and much of the developing world...) Corruption, as a matter of fact, sad fact, often is what makes the bureaucratic machinery function. Even a supposedly developed place like Quebec is rampant with corruption, especially when dealing with the construction of public works. In India, however, it is the everyday individual who has to encounter corrupt officials who have little regard for dignity of the public office they hold, and more regard for filling their own pockets. Mentally, I replayed a conversation I had with a local who said corruption is "killing" India. It also gets him infuriated, and just the other day, he made a whole scene at the train station because he had been queuing almost an hour at the train station to refund his ticket. When it was his turn, the counter agent said he couldn't cancel and refund the ticket, even though moments earlier he did just that for another customer. When asked why he couldn't refund the ticket, the counter agent said he didn't "know" my friend. The scene seemed to have set which implied the agent wanted to "know" Mahatma Ghandi, whose face is on all Indian bills.
Was I being too full of myself and thinking I could change something by resisting to be part of an endemic problem that for decades has been systematic and engrained in society and politics? At that moment, I was literally looking at barrel of the gun, but I did not flinch. Was it worth it to make a stand here, in the middle of an isolated village, being completely alone and surrounded by strange men (there were, as is case I imagine in the rest of the country, only men around...), when my life could potentially be at stake?
"No understand..." I said, screwing up my face again. One of the soldier's companions smiled, said something and shook his head. Then he gestured for me to leave. I took that as a sign the attempt at squeezing money out of a lone traveller failed.
I walked out the gates, past the crowd of people who suddenly appeared and swarmed around me. Vendors hawking their tacky souvenirs, postcards and Buddha statues, beggars with dirty and outstretched hands or clanking metal bowls, children who like to say: "Hello! Hello, sir!" I walked through the crowd, looked down at the ground, and pretended not to hear the random words throw at me in Japanese or English some have managed to learn, which I suppose are meant to attract more attention, if not sympathy. Do not look back, do not respond, I realised after several days and countless encounters, or otherwise there will be no end, and the swarm will only grow ever bigger.
My footsteps quickened. Suddenly out of nowhere, an image, as if from a badly scripted Bollyhood movie, flashed across my mind and sent shivers down my spine. The visor of the gun aimed at a tall boy carrying a black rucksack hurrying on a path across the field... Gunshots... News headlines of a foreigner killed because he refused to give in to demands for a few rupees...
I did not look back to see where the soldiers were or what they were doing. A cow stood by the side of the road and kept its head down until it heard my approaching footsteps. Gracefully the cow eyed me with a bemused look. Perhaps the cow, in India a highly revered creature, has seen it all far too often. In its dark eyes I found traces of wisdom both amusing and profound. Why is it that human beings resort to extortion and intentionally want to harm others? Why are we so driven by our feelings and desires, and yet believe we are superior over all other creatures? Why are we always besieged by thoughts and imaginations, fears and memories?
I smiled at the and bowed slightly as I walked past.
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