Ubiquitous wallahs peddled their wares just outside the front gate of Deer Park: they wanted to sell us Buddha statues, postcards, and malas, like countless other wallahs. Once we got through the gates, the wallahs stayed behind us, unlike at the Bamboo Groove, where they follow pilgrims and offer their merchandise in a pushy manner. I don’t know why it’s different there; perhaps those useless soldiers in the Bamboo Grove simply don’t reinforce the practice of forbidding wallahs from accosting people in sacred places.
Deer Park was a major hangout for the Buddha shortly after he gained Enlightenment. It’s also connected to the Jataka tale about the Buddha’s life as the Deer King who was willing to sacrifice himself in order to save the life of a mother deer. The foundations of at least one ruined monastery cover a large portion of Deer Park, which still contains live deer. It is yet another archeological location with crumbly brick ruins stretching across the landscape.
The most obvious piece of architecture is the Dharmekha Stupa, a very tall tower looming overhead. The tall and wide lower section is made of light-colored bricks that are smooth and elegantly arranged and has numerous niches where Buddha statues must have sat; maybe they were stolen or crumbled during harsh weather, or perhaps they’re in a museum, like the statues of Nalanda. The upper section of the stupa has a rougher and redder surface and is topped with a slight dome that I suspect used to look really different than it does now, but I could be mistaken. The Buddha preached his first sermon to the five ascetics at Deer Park, and the huge Dharmekha Stupa is believed to mark the spot where he gave this first talk. With Shantum in the lead, using an umbrella as a parasol, we walked toward the conspicuous tower till we reached it and circumambulated it, joining the Tibetans and others who also circled the stupa.
Up close to the towering stupa, while I walked slowly and silently, I observed the brick surface of the structure and noticed here and there some intricate carvings of Buddhas, in particular a row of creatures, including a frog that Shantum pointed out, and lotuses with long curving stems. I occasionally saw two inch pieces of gold leaf, such as those in the caves at Vulture Peak. The weather was beautiful and sunny, and we remained very quiet as we walked, and I simply lived in the moment and admired the scenery and the stupa. I was more mindful of my surroundings than of my steps.
A couple of raggedy, dirty beggar children approached us while we circumambulated the stupa. Each child held out a hand and looked up with big pathetic eyes, but I ignored them, preferring to be silent, while as usual feeling guilty and awkward. When I act like that, I’m afraid I must come across to the beggars as cold, selfish, and greedy.
The Wheel of the Law is a metaphor for teaching the Dharma, or the Buddha giving his teachings, such as when he taught the five ascetics here in Sarnath. Thus the first teaching was the first wheel turning, which took place more or less where the Dharmekha Stupa is now standing. The wheel crops up in Buddhist art often, such as flanked by two deer in Tibetan architecture; given that the first teaching was here in Deer Park, it’s rather an appropriate image. The wheel was originally on top of the famed lion pillar of Emperor Ashoka.
We finished circumambulating and followed Shantum’s black umbrella across a closely mown green lawn, where we settled under some trees and near a fence marking the boundaries of Deer Park. The large old trees reached out their branches over our heads and a plethora of happy birds performed their rendition of Oiseau Exotique. We spread out our straw mats, set down our cushions, and got comfortable on the lawn.
Shantum explained that Rikki is a certified yoga instructor and would give us a lesson, and she moved to face the group; the rest of us faced the tall stupa in the distance. All the yoga stretches Rikki taught were simple and didn’t involve any threat of finding yourself permanently tangled in a knot. The question that came to my mind was whether I could remember many of these stretches in order to use them in the future, during my amateur and solitary yoga practice. After the stretches, Rikki gave us a guided meditation.
We followed Shantum past the edge of the monastic ruins and to a chain link fence, behind which were trees and countless tame deer. I had always imagined Deer Park with the deer prancing around loose, but perhaps with people walking around that wouldn’t be terribly practical. A little boy with a bag of pink carrot sticks waited at the fence, and Shantum had paid him for perhaps the entire bag by the time the kid asked me if I wanted to feed carrots to the deer. I took a couple handfuls, and they ate the carrot sticks right out of my hand. Mesmerized, I gawked at the beautiful animals and remembered the Jataka tale about the Deer King. These deer are future Buddhas.
Shantum then led us around the monastery ruins, where we explored. I took a photo of ruins, with bits of gold leaf, where life-size Buddha statues and a temple bigger than the Mahabodhi used to be located. It seemed a little strange that the Mahabodhi still stands so tall and proud and looking good as new, after centuries of being buried in dirt, while this stupa is crumbled down to only one story tall, but Shantum told us that Turks and others invaded and trashed Deer Park. Visually these ruins are more reminiscent of Nalanda than of the Mahabodhi Temple. We kept walking, and I took careful steps amid the crumbly brick ruins, since I didn’t want to fall again.
We stopped at a small square space surrounded by a metal fence. Inside this fence was an Ashoka pillar, made of a smooth and shiny whitish stone, that’s broken in two pieces, so now it’s shorter than I. The inscription warns against disrupting the sangha and says what monks or nuns who do misbehave have to do, namely don white robes and move out, perhaps to be hermits (Aitken, p.167). The inscription gives some other instructions, or rather commands. I guess even Buddhist emperors are full of themselves.
A few feet away, we walked around the ruins of a great old stupa with some little bits of carved detail work still intact, such as flowery designs and Buddha figures circled by bead-like patterns. I thought it was exciting to see even these few little details, for they suggested that this piece of architecture was originally quite magnificent and likely covered with such engravings. This is the Dharmarajika Stupa of Ashoka, which was fixed up several times after the emperor originally built it.
We climbed up out of the ruins and onto the grass, to a spot beneath an enormous tree, where we gathered around Shantum for story time. Shantum sat with his back to the tree, but several people wanted a bathroom break, so the rest of us enjoyed lounging under the tree and relished the peace and quiet and balmy weather while we waited. We could hear birds singing and the only other people near us were doing an archeological dig in the ruins. Like at Nalanda, they carried large bowls on their heads.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the Buddha giving a talk here; he could have sat under a tree in the same spot as Shantum, and his sangha would have gathered around on the lawn, as we did. While we lounged under the tree at Deer Park, a friendly white dog came and lay down in the middle of our circle. Rick lay like a reclining Buddha, and I spread my mat out and lay on my stomach, propping my head up, reading the Dhammapada and wiggling my legs and ankles from time to time.
The others returned and everyone was ready, so Shantum thanked the bathroom break people for letting us enjoy our quiet time. I noticed that Nandini now had all three terra cotta bowls, and I wondered why people would leave such things lying around, but it was certainly better than leaving Styrofoam cups on the lawn; the terra cotta was a lot prettier and not a threat to the environment. I can hear softly chanting female voices in the distance; I’ll bet they’re Buddhist nuns. Shantum started his talk, which was primarily about the Buddha’s first talk in Sarnath and also about the archeological digs centuries later.
“Practice is the result of a lot of dissatisfaction; suffering gets to you and you take up Buddhism as a result. Buddhist practice is triggered by anger, irritation, and being with people you don’t want to be with,” Shantum said. No wonder I took up Buddhism when I did.
I heard peacocks crying from different directions, “Meow! Meow! Meow!”
“It’s important to remember that the Buddha is here, he is all around, and Buddha mind is everywhere,” Shantum said. I like that idea and should remind myself of this once in a while, no matter where I am, even in a restaurant feeling really tense with an obnoxious aunt or sitting at my desk at work getting bored. It isn’t difficult to sense the Buddha’s presence here in Deer Park.
Shantum told us a story about a wealthy merchant’s son, Yasa, who came to Deer Park and wandered around saying, “It’s disgusting, it’s disgusting, it’s disgusting.” When the Buddha asked him what was up, Yasa said, “Banaras sweets.” Maybe he stayed at the Radisson and saw the chocolate sculpture, too. The Buddha didn’t have trouble convincing Yasa to give up his luxurious lifestyle and become a monk.
After Shantum’s talk, we headed back to the bus, when I picked up a terra cotta cup, maybe two inches across, amid the ruins. Gail was walking alongside me, and she explained that it’s for chai, and that since I found it here in Deer Park, it’s special. It was as though I had picked up an ancient relic, since it had been lying amid the ruins. But apparently a chai stand was nearby, which would also explain Nandini’s little bowls. It is possible that the earliest Buddhist monks, and the Buddha himself, may have used bowls made of terra cotta. I know India has used terra cotta since prehistoric times; at the British Museum I have seen Neolithic terra cotta goddess figures from India.
We left Deer Park, drove a few yards down the road, and had lunch outdoors in the back yard of the Rangoli Garden Restaurant. We sat at little white plastic tables under parasols, like at a sidewalk café. Chinese tastes and otherwise more eastern food heavily influenced the buffet. That is, we had stir-fry and noodles, in addition to more typical Indian food. That is hardly surprising, given how many Buddhist pilgrims must come to Sarnath. Dessert consisted of yummy little pastry balls called ladoos.
The tour bus took us to the nearby Archeological Museum of Sarnath, a long one-story building that looks like it dates to the early twentieth century, like the other museums we’ve visited. We entered through the front double doors and immediately saw the famous Ashoka lion capital; it’s absolutely huge, much bigger than I pictured, and you can see it as you approach the doors, because it’s centered in the front room. The capital is a pale brownish-grayish color, and the surface is smooth and shiny. Originally, the four lions supported a Wheel of the Law; in a glass display case against the wall was a life-size diagram of what the wheel would have looked like, with the few found fragments of it in place over the diagram. The lion capital is featured on the Indian flag and on every single rupee, like a constant reminder that Buddhism started in India and still influences it. I’ve seen numerous hand-carved wooden lion pillars available to purchase, but I have yet to see one that includes the wheel.
In the museum, we gathered around the enormous lion capital, about which Shantum talked. Among other things, he explained that the four lions with their backs to each other symbolize peace, because lions are normally territorial, and these lions that have no territory are harmless, even if they are a bit snarly, with their mouths half open and their teeth showing. Actually, Shantum didn’t say anything about their less-than-friendly facial expressions. But since my cat Cheetah doesn’t control her claws well, she may be more dangerous than these lions, even if they had been flesh and bone rather than stone.
We looked at an exquisite Buddha statue and numerous detailed sculptures, both Buddhist and Hindu, which came off the architecture in Deer Park. Also, I took a particular liking to little prehistoric birds and animals made of terra cotta, displayed in glass cases. The museum was small and had a center gallery and two wings to the sides, so it included a total of three white-walled rooms open to the public and filled with ancient sculptures.
We halted at the far end of a long gallery, to the actual Buddha statue pictured on this pilgrimage’s “In the Footsteps of the Buddha” brochures. The statue is made of a shiny pale grey stone and at first look seems very simple, but as I gazed at it, I saw more detail. The statue shows the Buddha sitting cross-legged and poising his hands in a teaching mudra. Above him on either side are flying bodhisattvas at the top of a radiating circular halo, and behind the Buddha and below the halo is a square back. Beneath the Buddha is a rectangular pedestal carved with a wheel of the law dead center and donors and such draped figures on either side of the wheel. Altogether, it is a beautiful work of art.
We walked from the museum toward a simple and white-painted Japanese-looking temple. We passed it to head for an outdoor circular shrine displaying a shiny sculpture of the Buddha facing the five disciples, all of whom wore brown robes. From there, we walked to a nearby temple that is distinctly Indian in architectural style, with tall pointy domes.
The temple we headed for is the Mulagandhakuti Vihara, which is a Theravada Buddhist temple in Sarnath, run by the Mahabodhi Society. It’s next to Deer Park itself. Just as I started stepping up to the temple’s entrance, Shantum rescued Jennifer from a group of boys in maybe their twenties who wanted her to pose with them for a photo. She was perplexed by their behavior, and Shantum led her away by the hand, explaining that young guys like to have their pictures taken with Western girls. Great, if you’re an attractive Western female you’re sort of a status symbol for such boys. They tell people, “She’s my girlfriend,” when they show off the photo. Weird.
I promptly forgot about that incident as I walked amid the simple white columns leading to the temple’s entrance. An enormous metal bell hung overhead. Inside the temple was an altar displaying a gold version of the same statue as we had acted out in the museum, though it looks much better in the original stone. A Theravada monk in bright orange robes was up on the altar, and he greeted Shantum, who had minutes before we entered explained that a monk who was a friend of his worked there, and that he was “full of himself.” Of course, Shantum said it with an amiable smile. The monk looked Indian and had a profile reminiscent of Vulture Peak, but Shantum later explained that he was from Sri Lanka.
Covering the walls inside the temple are murals depicting scenes from the life of the Buddha and painted by a Japanese artist named Kosetsu Nosu. The colorful paintings totally cover the walls, except probably the one behind the shrine up front. Shantum explained, in chronological order, the meaning of the murals surrounding us: they illustrated the Buddha’s life from Mayadevi’s auspicious elephant dream to the Buddha’s death. Shantum finished by saying, “That’s the Buddha’s life in five minutes.”
Approximately ten orange-clad monks gathered onto the dais or altar on which the gold Buddha statue was centered. We sat on big rugs on the floor, and I noticed on another carpet sat a few people who weren’t with our group; they looked like they were from India and Southeast Asia.
The monks up on the dais lined up, facing the statue, and they held a long yellow string, connecting them to each other. The head monk used a microphone, and they chanted for some time.
I sat cross-legged, closed my eyes, and listened. I have to admit that I was so wired from all the excitement of the day that my mind wandered frequently, but I eventually made a conscious decision to focus on my breath and listen to the chanting mindfully. That was soothing and hypnotic: breathing in and out and simply listening to the monks, blotting everything else out, not trying to come up with opinions or reasons for all this and not wondering what happens next.
Five minutes of meditation followed the chanting, and the monk who is a friend of Shantum’s spoke to us, telling us about the life of the Buddha; I had trouble understanding him, because he was talking into a microphone in the echoic space that’s more appropriate for the chanting.
After his talk, we lined up single file and entered the altar. A monk held a goofy lotus-shaped cushion over each of our heads while chanting a short blessing, we walked to the left, and two monks tied orange strings around each guest’s right wrist, as remembrance for the Three Jewels, the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. A third monk poured water over each pilgrim’s right hand, using a brass teakettle. As we walked out of the temple, I took a really good look at the dramatic sight of the big two or three foot tall metal bell over our heads in the whitewashed and arched cloister leading to the front door.
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