The 100-kilometre drive from my hotel in Aurangabad to the Ajanta Caves is as good a time as any for my guide Ram to tell me the story of Buddha and the characteristics of the many Hindu gods and godesses. On my first trip to India, I enjoyed religious sites without a guide. But this time I'm determined to learn something so that I can fully appreciate the cave artwork we are about to see.
Just as it is almost impossible to identify head-less, half-limbed Greek and Roman gods without some knowledge of their mythologies, sight-seeing in India can also be a challenge if you can't tell the consort of a Hindu god from a Buddhist goddess or a Jain saint.
From the back seat of the 1960s-style Ambassador, though, Ram simply says, “Madam, you ask many questions,” as we bounce past lush, post-monsoon fields. Maybe he is used to guiding semi-conscious, jet-lagged foreigners who couldn't care less why those goats in the field are fuchsia and lime-green or why that water buffalo's horns are striped red and silver.
At first I assume the shepherds spray-paint their herds so they can tell apart, but I'm glad I ask. “People decorate them for pole, (pronounced ‘po-lay'),” Ram answers, “our Hindu festival for animals.”
After nearly two hours we reach Ajanta, where we board a natural-gas-fuelled bus to the caves. Soon to become India's sixth natural World Heritage Site, they were not uncovered until 1838 when a party of British soldiers found them on the banks of a river. Built between 300 and 500 B.C., the caves offered seclusion to the Buddhist monks who lived, taught and performed rituals here.
As Ram shines his flashlight along the walls inside one of the caves, scenes from Buddha's life come alive. In one, he has returned to his palace and is informing his wife and servants that he will not stay. I am stunned at how after all these centuries, the characters' expressions — Buddha's downward gaze or the pout of one of the servants —remain no more faded than aged wallpaper.
It is a humid 40 degrees and, other than a high-school class from Lahore here to sketch the caves, there aren't many other tourists around. Professional restorers are taking advantage of the off-season to painstakingly clean some of the paintings with fine brushes. To avoid damaging the frescoes, diesel-fuelled vehicles are also prohibited from the vicinity and flash photography is not allowed.
The next day, we visit the Ellora caves — 30 kilometres outside Aurangabad. Already a UNESCO heritage site, these were carved by Hindus, Buddhists and Jains from 350 to 700 A.D.
The southernmost 12 caves were all once Buddhist viharas (residences of monks), except for one chaityas (prayer hall). In Cave 6 is a large, seated Buddha, and on the left side of this ornate vihara are lovely images of the Buddhist goddess, Tara, as well as Mahamayuri, the Buddhist goddess of learning.
As I enjoy the view of a waterfall through a lookout at Cave 26, three women dressed in grey robes scuttle past, and, in quick succession, prostrate themselves, their lips grazing a well-worn piece of the cave floor. Ram explains that these are Hindu nuns and they go around visiting temples and kissing spots on the ground where they think Lord Buddha may have stepped.
Cave 10, Viswakarma or Carpenter's Cave, features a small window that illuminates an enormous carved Buddha. I'm amazed at how in India there always seems to be someone anticipating my needs before I do — for a few rupees. I hand a man in front of the cave a 10-rupee note and he shines a mirror to cast a greater light so that I can photograph the Buddha inside.
The stone ribs imitating wood beams carved into the ceiling give this chaitya incredible acoustics. Ram demonstrates by singing a song honouring Ganesh. “He's the elephant god, right?” I ask. Ram nods in approval. I climb the steps to the balcony and upper gallery for a closer view of the ceiling and imagine how haunting the voices of a few dozen monks would have been almost two millennia ago.
The Kailasa temple, Cave 16, is the most impressive of the more than 30 caves. The two-storey structure is the largest monolithic carving (cut from just one rock) in the world. Covering twice the area and at one-and-a-half times the height of the Parthenon in Athens, it is almost inconceivable to imagine the 7000 labourers who took nearly 150 years to carve out the temple from the top down using only hammers and chisels. The temple is a representation of Mount Kailasa, the Himalayan home of Lord Siva and the most important god for Shaivaite Hindus.
Around the temple, sculptures depict scenes from Hinduism's most popular epics: the Ramayana and Mahabharata. One of the greatest pieces of Indian art is a sculpture showing the demon god, Ravana, attempting to lift Mount Kailasa, while Siva crushes him using only his big toe.
Ram quizzes me on who the sculpture in front of us depicts. “The 10-armed (and dangerous) Durga?,” I offer. He smiles, pleased that I've been paying attention. As for me, I'm pleased that some of this fascinating information has actually sunk in.
Special to The Globe and Mail
