Common Ground: Bodhgaya: The Roots of Enlightenment

May 2004 | Journeys

Bodhgaya: The Roots of Enlightenment

by Allan Hunt Badiner

Bodhgaya is Buddhism’s Mecca, its Vatican, its Wailing Wall. Among pilgrimage sites in India where the Buddha lived and taught, Bodhgaya is the pre-eminent and most heavily visited of all. This great center of the Buddhist faith is unique among the holy places of the world’s other faiths as it revolves around a single, living tree. It is the place where Prince Gautama Siddhartha, the historical Buddha, attained enlightenment.

Throughout the year, thousands of monks, nuns, and devout lay followers gather in Bodhgaya’s exotic garden of flowers, stone statues, and stupas. They prostrate repeatedly in the direction of the miraculous Bodhi tree — five generations removed from the one under which the Blissful One sat. They rock gently to the deeply resonating rhythm of ancient incantations. They circumambulate endlessly around the tree and an ancient triangular temple — some in walking mediation; others, chanting, spinning prayer wheels or carrying incense; and still others stopping after each step to prostrate fully on the wide, white marble walkway.

Sparkling butter lamps, candles, and incense sticks by the thousands compete with bougainvillea blossoms by day and the stars by night. A cacophony of sound bathes the site: cymbals clashing, wooden clappers knocking, chanting from Tibet, Thailand, Japan, Burma, Sri Lanka, China, and India punctuated by the deep drone of horns announcing the arrival of a great Lama. Hindi film music wafts down from the shops above the holy complex, and the horns and screeches of buses and motor scooters are ever present.

Bodhgaya is a colorful and exotic collage of international Buddhism amidst a contemporary Indian town. The town pulses with activity, cashing in on the religious sentiments of the pilgrims, as well as providing for the daily needs of the Indians living in the surrounding villages. Alive with the colors and smells of fruit, vegetables, and grains, its market is populated by beggars, Indian villagers, Asian pilgrims, and Western travelers as well as by monks and nuns of every nationality. At first, I felt challenged by Bodhgaya’s confusion, noise, and squalor. I expected a more reflective respite from the chaos of India. Instead, I was treated to a kind of Dharma Disneyland. Wasn’t Bodhgaya meant to commemorate an act of deep contemplation, of reaching the most concentrated state of mind possible under the serene and simple protection of a tree? Surely a zone of peace belongs here, with loudspeakers banned, motor traffic rerouted, and littering outlawed.

Perhaps, as a Westerner, I was meant to learn how differently Buddhist pilgrims from other cultures celebrate their faith at its greatest shrine. Many have saved their whole lives and traveled thousands of miles to spend one day here. It is an ecstatic moment for them, and they seem pleased by the plethora of sights, sounds, and smells that mark their moment in the holy land.

After eight visits, I’ve discovered that while it’s a great challenge to let go of my irritation with all the seemingly inappropriate discord, accepting Bodhgaya as it is can be an even greater act of devotion to the Buddha’s path. Bodhgaya is a metaphor for the contradictions within Buddhism itself: to be in the world but not of it; to live fully but without attachment; to care for others but be true to oneself; and to be happy in a world of suffering.

But there is a greater and more saddening irony: the activity of the pilgrims at the Bodhi tree, from picking its leaves, to dumping ghee and cologne on its roots, to gold leafing its bark, to tying prayer flags to its limbs, is slowly killing the great emblem of nirvana, rendering it more vulnerable to insects and disease. Like the life of its most famous student 2540 years earlier, the Bodhi tree, or Pipal (Ficus religiosa), is itself a lesson in impermanence.

For Buddhists, the tree marks perhaps the most important chapter in the life of the Buddha. Gautama, hoping to find a way out of suffering, had been practicing self-denial and painful austerities for six years along the Niranjana River near Bodhgaya. Finally, he realized that this was not the way to ultimate happiness. He wrapped himself in a yellow shroud from a corpse awaiting cremation and accepted a bowl of milk-rice from Sujata, a village girl. Strengthened by this, he took some fresh green grass for a mat and sat under a nearby pipal tree facing east. Gautama resolved not to rise until he attained enlightenment.

As Gautama sat deep in meditation, Mara, or the persistent delusions of his own mind, tried tirelessly to distract him from the goal. Gautama touched the Earth, calling her to bear witness to the countless lifetimes of virtuous actions that led him to that moment. His power of compassion and commitment subdued and transformed his inner obstacles, and he finally triumphed over them to reach unconditioned bliss. For the seven days following his awakening, Buddha continued to sit motionless under the tree. He passed another week walking near the tree in meditation and, for a third, the Buddha remained close to the tree, contemplating what had happened to him and what he would do about it.

For hundreds of years following his death, the only symbols representing the Buddha were footprints and the tree. It is a lasting shrine to transcendental peace through wisdom, good conduct, and a disciplined life. For all Buddhists, it is a reminder and an inspiration, a symbol of life, of peace, of Buddha’s enlightenment, and of the ultimate potential that lies within us all.

Writer Allan Hunt Badiner has edited several books including Mindfulness in the Marketplace: Compassionate Responses to Consumerism (Parallax 2002) and Zig Zag Zen: Buddhism and Psychedelics (Chronicle Books, 2002). He is working on a new book called Buddha Land: the Path of Pilgrimage.

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