Monkeying Around In the Jetta Grove

Shantum said, “The Buddha spent eighteen years in the Jetta Grove, where he gave most of his teachings.” Temple 2, the second one after we pass a fenced-in bodhi tree, is the original spot of a temple called Gandhakuti, built for the Buddha’s use. It is a red brick ruin like the others in the Jetta Grove and similar to ruins we have seen elsewhere. But it has the distinction of displaying, on top of a brick wall at the front of the temple, a simple little stupa or shrine, about a foot tall, and covered with gold leaf. It looks like a gold layered wedding cake, but I don’t recommend trying to cut a slice.

I must mention the fenced-in and quite huge bodhi tree, specifically the Anandabodhi, or the Ananda Bodhi Tree. It was a sapling from the Bodhi Tree in Sri Lanka, which in turn was a sapling from the original Bodhi Tree in Bodh Gaya, so the Anandabodhi is a direct descendant of the one under which the Buddha gained enlightenment. It is also a tribute not only to the Buddha himself, but also to his closest disciple, Ananda, who planted this tree, or at least he planted the first bodhi tree in this exact spot. It has huge pale roots sprouting out through the brick path and steps, and the tree looks quite dramatic with these determined roots growing and growing regardless of the pavement. Nothing will stop it from growing as much as it pleases.

I was one of the first to arrive at the Anandabodhi, and I spotted some cute little monkeys, pulled out my camera, and headed toward them. “Don’t get too close!” Jennifer said, and I remembered how close I got to the first monkey I saw before it went into its ninja attack mode, and I thought I would be fine as long as I didn’t get that close. Therefore I boldly walked toward a monkey seated near a small tree; I must be incorrigible. I stood several yards away, when this monkey suddenly opened its mouth and went down on all four, staring at me with its teeth showing. We had plenty of space between us! I backed away and was soon jogging back to the group on the walkway, and I nearly hid behind Rikki before I realized that was not exactly a brave thing to do. So much for cultivating fearlessness. On the other hand, I was grinning the entire time I did this, inwardly laughing at myself.

“You’re not afraid of an elephant but of a little monkey?” Dean said.
“Monkeys can be vicious,” Jennifer said. “I told you not to get close to it.”
I shrugged and said, “I wasn’t that close to it.” I guess I’m comfortable enough with the sangha now that I no longer worry about looking like the class clown.
Valerie said to me, after most of the sangha had begun to move on, “They can run up to you and grab you by the neck and strangle you!”
“Really!” I said, taken aback.
“I don’t know for sure, but it seems likely,” she said.
“They can at least beat you with sticks,” I said, remembering such a scene in a short story called “The Interpreter of Maladies” by Jhumpa Lahiri.

Rikki carried a bag full of marigolds to offer to the Anandabodhi, and we each helped ourselves. I was close to the end of the line, probably thanks to my photography exploits; I wanted not only a normal picture of the tree, but I also took a picture of the big roots on the pavement.

Bearing two handfuls of marigolds as offerings, I slowly and mindfully stepped up to the tree while gazing in fascination at the huge pale roots and then looking up at the heart-shaped leaves. The sun shone on the light green leaves, making them glisten as they shook slightly. Below the leaves were many twists of ropelike trunk, and just below the crotch were some shallow apertures.

I stepped up close and mindfully placed some of the marigolds into a crevice in the gnarly old tree, but a glance slightly upward brought my attention to water cascading down the tree trunk in my direction. I stopped arranging flowers and stepped back so I wouldn’t get wet.
I looked up to see the tail end of a monkey. Ick. Walking up to the Ananda Bodhi Tree and nearly getting pissed on by a monkey isn’t the most spiritually inspiring moment. I finished placing flowers in front of the tree, glanced back up at the monkey, and backed away. As so often happens, although I was one of the first people to arrive, I was almost the last one to leave the tree.

At the Jetta Grove, we wandered through the ruins and sat on our mats under an enormous shady bodhi tree, where I periodically picked up a leaf or two off the lawn and tucked them into my journal. Shantum told us Buddha stories and pilgrim stories while we relaxed and watched swinging monkeys. The tree wasn’t the Anandabodhi, but was off the path and on a stretch of lawn. Nonetheless, I feared another monkey might try to piss on me. Life is so uncertain. On the other hand, I sat in the center of the sangha rather than directly under the tree trunk. If anyone was likely to get pissed on, it was Shantum.

A stray dog joined us, of course, and I took a couple pictures of it. Erika suggested that I show the dog the second picture, the way she shows children their pictures, and I did so, giggling. It was a close-up on the dog’s face. As I did during all of Shantum’s talks, I took notes, while he told us about the Buddha, his monastic community in the Jetta Grove, and the tradition of Buddhist pilgrimages.

Prince Jetta, Shantum explained, donated much of the park. He said, “The Buddha said he would like it to be donated to the Sangha and to the four directions. So the land was given to the Sangha. It’s our land, but the government is squatting on it and calling it theirs.” Shantum then told us about many people who joined the Buddha’s sangha here, and then about various pilgrims over the centuries. I picked up a large bodhi leaf from the grass and twirled it around in my hand, before I tucked it into my journal.

Shantum’s tales of the Buddha strongly suggested that Siddhartha was extremely charismatic and persuasive. I have sometimes wished I were charismatic, but I’ve noticed that despite his charisma, the Buddha had many enemies. The Brahmins who had a vendetta against him must have perceived the Buddha as a threat to their authority, kind of like how the Catholic Pope, at least the one who recently croaked, condemned Goddess spirituality and feminism while conveniently not mentioning that they are threats to his Power-Tripping White Male Authority, the most obvious reason why he was against Goddess spirituality and feminism. The Brahmins weren’t the Buddha’s only enemies, but his cousin was another. Devadatta wanted to be as well liked as the Buddha but didn’t know how to go about it.

Though I have never been charismatic, I know what it’s like to have many enemies and for people to be extremely hostile toward me. The Buddha grew up in an environment where he was highly respected, but I grew up in an environment where I was a social outcast and ridiculed by the majority. The Buddha didn’t encounter much hostility till after he became enlightened and popular, and he had a great many supporters. Yet I see a similarity in the hostility that people had toward the Buddha and the hostility that people have toward me or any other free thinker: we are threats to closed-minded people’s understanding of “reality” and to a power-tripping status quo. True, the Buddha had the advantage of being well-known, respected, and influential.

This pilgrimage has made me more connected to the Buddha, in that I know more about him and see him as more human than I did before I came to India. I wonder if I knew him in a previous life. I suppose I could have been a flea he stepped on when he sneaked out of the palace to seek enlightenment. Or maybe I was a monkey that peed on the Buddha while he sat meditating under a tree.

In 1988, Thich Nhat Hanh brought Shantum here, and that was the beginning of this series of pilgrimages, “In the Footsteps of the Buddha.” It was Thich Nhat Hanh’s idea, and who better to lead these tours than Shantum? He said, “Buddhism has come to the West and is thriving: a new form of Buddhism is developing, and it’s interesting to see how it evolves.”

Later I overheard Liz say to Yvette, “Shantum uses everyday language when teaching and telling us stories, so anyone can understand it, even though he knows Sanskrit.”

One of the pilgrims Shantum told us about was Hsuan Tsang, a Chinese monk who about fifteen hundred years ago traveled to India on pilgrimage, had various adventures, and took back many manuscripts from Nalanda University. A couple years ago, a friend in St. Louis, Cara, introduced me to a Japanese anime series called Saiyuki, which is based on the novel The Journey to the West. Fortunately, she also told me about the five hundred year old Chinese epic fantasy novel itself, and so at about the same time that I started renting the anime series, I began reading the unabridged book.

The novel is a humorous fantasy version of Hsuan Tsang’s journey in which he goes by the spiritual name of Tripitaka and journeys with the trickster Monkey King, Sun Wu-Kung, who is very central to the story and frequently gets into trouble but means well; a boar spirit named Pa-Chie who’s stupid and lustful and gluttonous but with whom the monk is more tolerant than with the mischievous Monkey; and a water spirit named Sha-Monk who helps out with the martial arts. A water dragon eats the monk Tripitaka’s horse and so Quan Yin turns the dragon into a white horse for Tripitaka to ride. It is a riotous and fun work of fantasy that involves many demons, deities, and spirits lurking around every mountain path.

But the real-live monk Hsuan Tsang escaped blood-thirsty Kali-worshippers without help from the monkey Sun Wu Kung or the boar spirit Pa-Chie, although that adventure does sound similar to escapades with demons in the novel.

2
Visible from the Jetta Grove is a very dramatic and enormous gold Buddha statue, put there by a Thai nun, and now a long white Thai monastery with sharply pointed roofs stands behind it. While we sat under the bodhi tree for Shantum’s talk, we could see the statue beyond the trees, and Shantum explained it to us. It was meant to be visible from the grove, and it certainly is.

After story time under the bodhi tree, we had one half hour or so to wander around and take pictures or otherwise hang out in the grove. I wanted to take a picture of the giant gold Buddha as close to it as I could get while remaining in the Jetta Groove but without a monkey attack. I started heading up a path and saw, down below a slope of grassy land, the foundation for another ancient brick monastery, where a couple of monkeys sat grubbing around. Shantum had just explained that the pink-bottomed monkeys are the fierce ones, such as the one I started walking toward by the sacred tree, but the cream-colored monkeys are safe. The ones congregating in this corner of the Jetta Grove were langurs, the safe ones. They were playful, swinging from branch to branch, and three babies hopped around and stared at me.

I made my way around the ruins to the other side, on a path sloping up toward the giant gold Buddha. I hesitated on the path because a large monkey sat in the tall grass right at the edge of the narrow path, and although it was a cream-colored monkey, the kind Shantum said is harmless, I wasn’t so sure it would let me get by, after the way previous monkeys had behaved.

Gail came along and walked right past the big monkey on the path, casually saying to it, “Hi, big guy.” The creature munched on plants and sat with its tail across the path. Seeing her confidently walk by without disturbing the monkey, I did the same except with a pinch of hesitation as I stepped over its tail. I walked to the end of the narrow path and got a better look at the giant gold Buddha. It was a breathtaking view, with the flame on top of the Buddha’s head pointing up into the bright blue sky. I took a couple pictures and stood gazing, hypnotized.

I passed the big munching monkey again with no problem. Minutes later I stood several yards away from the monkey and pulled out my camera and started pushing the zoom button so I could take a picture of some monkeys in the ruins. Suddenly the big one started shrieking and running at me. Therefore I lowered my camera and didn’t get that picture. I thought that was quite bizarre, but perhaps I took a picture of this monkey using the flash, which is automatically on when I switch on the camera. I walked away from the monastery ruins to watch monkeys in the trees.

While I gazed at the giant gold Buddha, Erika had been taking pictures of monkeys under a couple trees, and she even took a picture of monkeys having sex. I missed the event, except for seeing the high quality picture on her camera. I did walk back over, to the other side of the ruins, since Erika and Jennifer and a multitude of monkeys were there, and Erika pointed out the two monkeys that had been having sex. When it was time to leave, they looked like they might do it again, but I didn’t want to be far behind the sangha.

As I traversed back to the front gates, I picked up a terra cotta chai cup or candle holder from under a tree; it was similar to the one I had picked up at Deer Park. Shantum announced on the bus that we’d be departing again at three forty-five, to see stupas at sunset. I really like these gatherings in special places at sunrise and sunset, when the view is particularly dramatic.

Christine and I walked together from the Jetta Grove to the hotel and meanwhile discussed my situation in Kansas and my choices for dealing with it, which she listed: to do nothing, to seek council without moving, to move away and seek counseling, or to move away without counseling. I said, “When I was in college I was in a much healthier environment, being encouraged to express my artistic creativity 24/7, and now I’m on the trip accompanied by people with whom I’m comfortable and with whom I can communicate, in contrast with my usual environment.” She pointed out that when you’re so distressed, it’s hard to make important decisions such as whether to move away or not.

Christine said, “Nobody has to be anywhere.” Indeed, if you don’t like where you live, you can pack up and move. She said that things come up, and I can watch for signs. That’s how I ended up in Kansas: the signs pointed toward it, particularly when obnoxious neighbors moved into my apartment building and were not only loud but even smoked and left ashes and butts on the landing. So, yes, I can wait and watch for something to come up. For instance, Christine said, “A proofing job could become available on the west coast.” She also said, “It’s best to not just have a vague idea but to read up and do research on the area to which you’re thinking of moving. You should be able to really imagine yourself living there and be practical about preparing for it.”