Bodhgaya - the place of enlightenment - Letter 4

Day 4
Bodh Gaya the place of enlightenment

Temples and conflicts and fog

We woke c. 4- 5 hours later, got up, showered in cold water – no hot and went off to visit our first site. I'd said when booking this particular tour guide – who was an Indian member of the western buddhist group to which I belong, that what I wanted on the trip was meditation every morning and a spiritual journey around the sites.... that never happened.

Our guide was pleasant enough and full of boyish charm and at each site visited regurgitated some of the old apocryphal myths about the Buddha's life story, but had very little real archaelogical or historical knowledge. The worst thing on this first day was the developing conflict with Mani – the guy who was supposedly organising the trip. He was based in Nagabodhi, another Indian town and I never actually met him. This dispute was to start us off with bad feeling and difficulties. We had arranged to pay the full fees by cash on arrival. This would have been fine, but I was annoyed firstly that we'd had a ghastly 24 hour journey in third class (OK the delays were no one's fault but third class???), when I had specifically requested Upper Second class tickets. Indeed I later explained what had happened to us, to an English buddhist who was incredulous that a tour organiser would subject two middle-aged female westerners to the awful conditions of 3^rd class. I was concerned about what the rest of the trip was going to be like under the circumstances, we were to have several long car journeys and then be put on a train again from Gokhpur back to Delhi at the end of the tour - yes of course, he said, it would be in second class – as if the alternative was unthinkable.... well!!. I felt therefore that if we were to pay all the money over we would not be in any kind of bargaining position for the rest of the trip. I suggested at first that we pay 75% and when that was stonewalled that we withhold £50, but there was no compromise or discussion. Consequently we were late setting off for the sites and the next part of the journey, which had a knock-on effect.

Julia on the other hand just wanted an easy life and for everyone to be happy, so she wanted just to pay all the money without quibble. Mani meanwhile, unknown to us, instructed Anu to pass on to us that unless we paid up in full now, he would cancel all arrangements. Anu was diffident in telling us this, clearly embarassed and it came out in

vague dribs and drabs. This freaked Julia out, but not so much me as I had originally contacted another tour company who might be willing to step in. The problem was that at this stage we were really not in a strong negotiating position, we needed a guide and someone to arrange hotels and organise trips to various sites, our local knowledge was very limited and we were both dog tired.

In the end I capitulated and handed over the money, but felt strongly aggrieved that I was being held to ransom. We also found out later, from a travel tour operator in Sarnath that we could easily have organised the rest of our trip ourselves, with his help, for much cheaper. My forebodings turned out to have some foundation when, after my payment, the trip that then unfolded was considerably substandard - there was no meditation organised by our guide or anything approaching spiritual experience, for a trip that I went on as a Buddhist pilgrimage. The only religious experiences we had at various sites was due to meditation or chanting organised by me. The hotels/guest houses that we were put in by our very sweet but grossly inexperienced guide were of generally low quality – sometimes sheets not clean, not enough blankets and in several places a room so dirty that we'd use half a packet of wet-wipes to clean them before we could sleep in them. V few had hot water. We were not expecting 5* hotels, but maybe 2* or at least a good level of cleanliness. This is not what we got. Anyway back to the story.

We had lunch in a rather hot an oppressive cafe – a long walk from our accomdation, it seemed to be full of backpackers, a few aging hippies and a woman in a white kaftan came over asking for donations to her charity., I had a pleasant veg curry with boiled rice and chapati, Julia had little as her stomach was upset. Afterwards, walking about we began to see what Bodh Gaya was like - there was a cacophany of noise and traffic and commercial activity, street stalls selling buddhist souvenirs, from pictures of the Dalai Lama, to carvings of the buddha, all colours, shapes and sizes; pashminas, cheap jewellry, trinkets, food snacks cooked on the spot. The general atmosphere of the whole place was of a giant commercial opportunity. When you tried to cross the road you had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over by hundred of bicycles, tuk-tuks, beat up old cars and lorries – all blowing their horns, cows wandering about through it all.and hawkers trying to get you to stop at their stall.The dust was everywhere 

I thought of where I was and why I had come there – this was the place of the Buddha's enlightenment, a place that should have been sacred and inspiring, a place for quiet contemplation and meditation. I thought with some sympathy of the biblical story of Jesus getting angry with the stalls and money lenders in the Temple precincts, overturning their tables. We asked Anu to take us to the Buddhist centre hoping to find some peace there, Anu called a tuk-tuk and we left the main road and down a rough gravel track to some tall wire gates where the driver dropped us. We walked through and down the track and were asked to sit down at an old table and chairs overlooking the large garden, and eventually tea was brought. The local Indian chair of that centre was a pleasant chap and chatted to us for a while telling us of their local charitable intitatives going into schools, raising awareness about Buddhism in the poorest sections of the community.

Pictures of Dr Ambedkar were prominent – he was the low caste Dalit who in the 50s, against all odds became a politician and a member of the Indian cabinet. Feeling that there was no other way to break the caste system and improve the lot of these Dalits he had urged his followers to leave Hinduism behind and become buddhists. He instigated mass conversions, instructed and encouraged by Sangharakshita the English founder of the Triratna Buddhist Order to which I belong. Ambedkar had died shortly after and Sangharakshita had inherited his leadership of these mutitudes of uninstructed buddhists. Since then programmes have been put in place, schools founded, support given to many enterprises to give assistance to these now second and third generation buddhists, often still given scant respect by those Hindus who adhere still to the caste system,

We were enjoying the peace and tranquillity in the garden, a welcome break from the madness outside on the main road. I asked if we could see the shrine room and whether they had any meditation planned. The three members there led us down and it was suggested I lead a meditation, which I did using my meditation app on my phone which rings a bell every five minutes for however long you sit for. I led the metta bhavana, which is about developing friendly positive feelings towards yourself and others. There's a bit where you bring forward your positive feelings to someone you have had conflict with – I put M, our agent there but with limited success.

We left after a guided tour of the buildings and proposed developments, facilites seemed very basic compared to the smart well funded retreat centres in England.

Anu and his tall smiley mate took us off on a walk to see the giant Buddha statue in the distance – 80 foot tall, built by the Tibetans – I'll post up photos soon. Then we took a tuk tuk back to the guest house. 

 

24 Hours on an Indian train - Letter 2

Day 3 The train journey

Actually I'm writing this from Delhi airport, is it a week later already... god can't be. Just about to board our Jet Airways flight to Singapore.

On a Boeing 737 now. Where to begin – at the train station a week ago – its 6:30 a.m. We hear on the tannoy in Hindi first then English – a sort of Heathrow posh woman's voice, that the train is delayed by 4 hours. They don't say why. The platform is crowded with people. There is no where to sit, we have two heavy bags with us and two more portable smaller rucksacs. We sit on a small metal girder attached to something, there is water gurgling out behind us, pouring across the platform and on to the rails. No one notices but us. The crowds of Indians mill about, most dressed in rougher garb, grey blankets wrapped around – it's quite cool temperatures c. 8-10 C, head cloths wrapped round their heads and under the chin, manual workers, a few women in bright coloured saris. We appear to be the only Europeans – we too are wrapped up well against the cold in khaki trousers and layers on top, vests, T-shirts, jumpers, fleece gilets.

I get out the ticket again – we need a train with a certain number printed on the side, then we must get on at carriage 1A. We feel despondent, what are we going to do for 4 hours... we'd got up at 5 a.m and the taxi had dropped us at 6 a.m. A porter had grabbed our bags and we'd run after him up metal steps, down corridors, down steps and we'd arrived at Platform 3 where he'd deposited us, taken several hundred rupees (£2-3) a lot by most standards here and then disappeared off. Our bags were too heavy to carry up the steps and back, so we sat, there was nothing else to do, watching the mayhem around us.

At 8:30 a train pulled in to our platform and the number on the side is the number on our ticket, we check with someone, yes its the train to Bodh Gaya, our train has arrived. I had asked our Triratna buddhist tour agent to book us on Upper second class, which is usually cheapish but OK. But on the ticket it seems to say 3^rd... this cant be right? We get in a sleeper carriage which has 6 bunks, check out the nearest toilets – holes in the floor type with metal foot rests at the side, inside the cubicle everything is grey with grime, there's a dirty tap handle for sluicing the hole..... Julia my hygiene fanatic friend has hysteriics then a panic attack.. The carriage is very dirty. I get out our anti-bacterial wet wipes (we had brought loads) and we clean every surface in the carriage.We're going to be here for 14 hours after all. Each wipe becomes quickly black, from the small table in the middle, to the bunks on either side. Two young men have got on, and they watch incredulously as we clean, they chat to each other in Hindi and laugh surrepticiously at these mad Westerners. They climb on their bunks opposite us and roll up in the grubby sheet we have each got by now and doze quickly off.

We sit on the bottom bunks which are empty ( our booking seems to be for a top and middle bunk) and make ourselves relatively comfortable facing the windows and dozing for a few hours. A chai wallah comes down the corridor calling 'chai, chai' every now and again. I get some in my metal cup every couple of hours, hot sickly sweet, milky tea, costing a few pence. Julia sticks to the water bottles from the hotel. Using the loo is a trial for both of us though – I have to hold on to the grimy tap to lower myself into position,I have bad knees. Then hand washing in the grimy sink, then anti-bacterial gel – we do not want any stomach bugs and mostly manage to keep them at bay due to strict hygiene prrecautions throughout our journey. We are beginning to cope and think ok we can manage when we stop at about the fourth station along. Outside our window (which by now I have cleaned – on both sides – so we can see out, there is an older woman with a large trolley covered in bags. I look at her with mild curiosity, pitying the poor buggers in whose carriage she will deposit herself. A few minutes later our curtains are swept back and there she is – we are the poor buggers. Our carriage arrangements are completey swept aside by the man who is with her, portly, bearded, grey hair, she is large and saried. Our cases are pulled out from under the bottom bunks her mountain of goods must go there, Julia's bag ends up on her bunk. Our world for the rest of the journey becomes the cramped confines of our bunks... food is brought for the inmates of our tiny cells from the grubby kitchens in the next carriage –veg curry and rice,with parathas(Indian bread) c. 60 pence for me in small cartons, v little for Jules who has lost her appetite due to a delicate stomach. In the night I wake to the train having stopped in the middle of nowhere and not moving for hours.

Fog has by now descended on everything, a kind of blanketing dry dusty fog so you can't see far out of the window. This fog is to come and go during our entire time in India. Is it due to weather or pollution, some Indian cities are apparently the most polluted in the world and everywhere we go there are gridlocked traffic jams.

Let's skip now to the end of our tortuous journey. It is now 22 hours since we arrived on that platform, 20 hours since we climbed on the train. We feel like prisoners on cell block H by now, we have learnt to survive in the awful conditions in which we find ourselves. We think we have faced the worst but little do we know what is going to happen next, just as we thought the torture of the journey was near its end.

 

End of the train journey, Bodh Gaya - letter 3

Day 4, Fri 18^th
The end of the train journey, reaching Bodh Gaya

By now I have managed to secure us a bunk on the ground level in the top of the T facing the two bunks. This had involved an 'argument' with one of the guards who had said this one was for them to bed down in as it's near the cook's carriage. I emphasise our age, or ailments etc and then pretend not to understand further arguments. They give up and we both sit and curl up on opposite ends of this bunk. We can look out the window, go to the loo, sit upright without bending our necks etc. Perhaps what happens next is revenge although I'm inclined to think it was just a stupid mistake.

I am now asking every time we stop, how many stops to our disembarkation point, Bodh Gaya. I say Gaya each time, he understands and says Gaya back to me, until he comes to tell us, by sign language that Gaya is the next stop.

It is c 5 a.m and pitch dark outside. The train stops again in the middle of darkness for ages and we doze off – only to be woken abruptly by him – we are here, its Gaya, we must get off quickly, the train will not stop for long. We throw off sleep as he drags our bags and we grab our bits and suddenly we are on the platform and the train is pulling off.  

It is then we realise that we are standing in pitch dark next to our pile of bags and there is no one about, we are totally alone. Near us at the end of the platform is a wrought iron steep staircase leading to a bridge over the track and on the other side there seems to be a low square building (station?) and a few figures, dark shapes. Julia goes into panic mode again, 'OMG this is dangerous, we're on our own, we're going to be raped etc... I shout at her to shut up and stop being overdramatic. What we must do, I say, is call (on our expensive UK phone chips) Mani our so-called tour operator. I wake him up, he says isn't Anu there to meet us, we look around – no one is there. He says not to panic Anu is there somewhere, he will find us. Meanwhile a man with a rifle appears. He indicates that we must move over to the platform opposite – we explain we can't carry our heavy bags up the stairs. Eventually he and another guy help hump them across the rail tracks over to the other side. He deposits us in a kind of large concrete, bleak 'rest room'. Several men are rolled up in blankets on the floor. After a further back and forth with Manidharma about Anu looking for us, something dawns on me and I call the guard over again 'Is this station Gaya', No it isn't that's the next station along. I call M back and give him the good news. He freaks and tells us the station we are at is extremely dangerous, bandit country, we must get ourselves in to the station master at once. I say nothing to Julia or she will faint with horror. I merely gather our bags and tell her we're going to the station masters office, we have to find out how to get the next train. We are both sleep walking with exhaustion by now.

The station master turns out to be a neat man in his late 40s, his black hair is oiled and carefully parted and swept back at the sides. He has a neat clipped moustache. His clothes look ironed. He is a complete gentleman, he phones various stations back along the route and finds that a train is due in 20 mins which should take us to Bodh Gaya. We sit on a side bench in his office and he comes over to talk to us - first about the English cricket team, here in India – a TV is on low, high up on the wall, England are playing. He tells us about his children, that they are at college and that he has managed this station for many years and a little about the history of the railway line.

He keeps reassuring us that he will know when the train is coming and he will call a 'coolie' (his word) to carry our bags back across to the other side a few minutes in advance. He will ensure we get on the train. Julia keeps checking with him. I feel complete confidence in him, he is totally British raj. He asks to explain how we got off on his station platform in detail and shakes his head. He is convinced the guy must have made a mistake as that train rarely stops at his station. He asks for a description of the guy who put us off.
 

After a while we hear the hoot of a train in the distance and suddenly there is a flurry of activity. The 'coolie' appears and our bags are carried on his head across the track. We too jump down onto the track and scramble up onto the platform on the other side and the station master follows us. The station master ensures we get on the train, opening the door, explaining our situation to the guard who appears and depositing us on a bench inside the door. A man is shaving at a sink in his vest, another emerges from the toilet. We sit down on the bench with our bags underneath. After shaking hands all round with our saviour, the door is shut, the train moves off. I see there is a toilet labeled 'Western style' and get excited until I go in, then emerge quickly telling Jules it's full of shit. I text Mani that we'll be at Gaya in 45 mins. We will arrive almost exactly 24 hours from when we'd first got on at Delhi.
 

Bodh Gaya station is totally what I had been expecting – lots of people busily moving about on the platform. A porter in red appears and soon he and another guy have our large bags on their heads and we are trotting behind. Mani tells us to meet Anu at the main entrance. As we emerge from the station it quickly becomes clear we cannot wait there – it is manic and the touts descend on us like flies on rotting fruit. We retreat back inside and in a large hall we see a fresh faced boy walking towards us – it is Anu. He is about 5' 4” , has short neat hair and looks to me about age 12 (but is in fact 25). He is very relieved to find us, he says, Manidharma was very worried, he thought we'd get robbed or murdered. There's a taxi outside and he will drive us to our lodgings. As we emerge again from the station, a noise and cacophony greats us of traffic and car horns and more touts again, that our guide bats off. We keep our eyes lowered and follow him closely.
 

So this is Bodh Gaya – where the Buddha gained enlightenment, we look out at traffic and people around, it's 7.30 in the morning. We get to the 'hotel' and hump our bags up some stairs and down a long corridor – the room seems to overlook a building site, it is cold, the sheets are cold and slightly damp but we are exhausted and fall on the beds. I fall into a deep sleep and according to Jules, snore (rubbish)! We have arranged to meet up with Anu in the foyer at 1 pm for some site seeing.