Stray reminiscences of India:

Buddhism in New Delhi a pathetic peep

Padma EDIRISINGHE

My friend Kamalika Peiris' recent article in the Daily News on 'Buddhism in India' prompted me to pen this. May be it is my dwindling egoism that makes me feel inadequate to attempt such broad sweeps of content. But my irresistible attraction to this great lady, Mother India, induces me to touch her massive bulk here and there with my tiny pen. Like the proverbial cat looking at the moon.

Can one write on India under Stray Reminiscences? Perhaps, some aspects could be so handled, even Buddhism in contemporary India, of which I had a pathetic peep. I am in a quandary as to where to begin even this. Perhaps in the Central Bus Stand of Delhi.

The great lady sports many ironies that have got accumulated over centuries that include the period of British rule. Though much maligned today by Asians frenzied with nationalism it must be acknowledged that a good many modes that made life easier in the Orient were doled out by them. For example the buses that first made their debut along London's streets.

Like the trains the buses began to teem on this sub-continent. And then out-cropped the bus-stands, most of them in Delhi called Central Bus Stands. Irony here is that these Central Bus Stands are all sited on the periphery of the mighty city.

Almost obsessed by memories of Buddhism in its heyday, now that I was in the land of its birth for the fourth time in a mood more religious inclined, I yearned to have a peep into it at present times in its very capital and told so to my host, Sitesh Bhatia, address, University quarters, Vaishali. She indicated to me the route to what she knew as the Buddhist world, ND. The Central Bus Stand was the focal point on the route. Past an intricately labyrinthine mesh of old and new buildings from Vaishali in Pitampur I drove by bus which itself provided a novel experience. The vehicle was curiously painted with figurines of what looked like extra terrestrial beings that included erotic females with bouncing breasts that raised no eyes in this land that produced the Kama Sutra.

Drove on and on through incredible masses of humans, of which a pocket was getting into the bus every now and then. No affectations, no pretences. Dressed in very casual. No seats? Just not bothered. Flop on the floor and smirk at those seated.

My first destination was the Central Bus Stand, ND-NW, which was actually sited on the Eastern border of the city just by the flowing Yamuna. Was asked to get down here and take a taxi or walk along a certain road to reach The Tibetan Enclave where Buddhism reigned in as in by-gone days.

My heart beat fast as I drove closer and closer. So I was going to have a peep into a long eclipsed period, a great period that had got eclipsed in the 7th and 8th Centuries. I was just excited. Expected great Stupas to loom ahead but so far none appeared.

Irony of ironies! English, we deride as the language of the Pariahs or the outsider but how handy it is when it comes to foreign travel. So I spoke to the rickshaw wallah in this derided medium and asked where the Buddhist temples are. He looked at me dazed and said in broken English that there were none. But I sensed that I was definitely in the vicinity that Sitesh had indicated. Soon as though to fill the emptiness a group of boys who looked Tibetan gathered round the rickshaw and began demanding dollars. What dollars, I asked, I have only Indian money.

But you not Indian?

No. Sri Lankan pilgrim.

Pilgrim, they sneered mischievously preening about in denims and red and blue T' shirts. Where to pilgrim here, they laughed as I had a first hand view not of Buddhism but of the amazing globalization process.

On their T' shirts were emblazoned in English, phrases as Long Live the Yankees, I love U, Sweetheart.

Even Mr. McDonald was grinning from one T' shirt. It made me feel homely anyway for in Rajagiriya along Kotte Road I pass the man almost everyday gloating over a piece of fried chicken in his hand with not a thought on calories.

Getting rid of the impudent boys who had no respect to pilgrims or elders but were only looking for dollars I soon spotted the peepal (bo) tree spreading on a raised mount and there behind it was actually a pristine white Stupa of little proportion.

So I had come to Buddhism in New Delhi after all. Paying the man I walked up the little hill but I must thank my stars for not being pushed down.

From an Ashram nearby were rushing out a row of Tibetan monks. Symphony expected of such a revered row, sad to say, was totally lacking.

Instead adjusting their robes in indecent decorum they were all enroute to some function or meeting. I managed to stop one of them looking less tense than the rest and ask where the Buddhist section of New Delhi is. Is it here? I want to know about Buddhism in India as at present.

"Go up there to the Garden of the tallest Peepal tree," he said in what is famously known today as Broken English and added a quaint bit of truth.

"There sits an old monk there. He knows a lot and further, he has the time to talk to you for he cannot walk about."

How scarce Time has become even in Tibetan enclave. No one has time to talk to another leave alone sit and stare nor walk in placid gait.

But I manage to delay the young monk.

"Will he tell me something about Buddhism in India as at present?"

"Buddhism in India? Read it from books, will you"

"No. I want to hear it from someone here. Someone actually living here."

"You are strange. Actually to tell you the truth there is no Buddhism in New Delhi."

"Then what are you doing here? Saadhu?"

"This is just a hostel. We have come over here from Tibet mostly to study English. Today a famous American or Englishman is delivering a talk on how to improve our English. Now you come from somewhere and getting very curious have prevented me getting a seat in the Great Hall."

What Great Hall, Saadhu, I asked naively. Impatiently he pushed a handbill into my palm and vanished adjusting his robes in a mighty hurry. I felt sorry for him. Not only for making him a standing audience in the Great Hall but for his missing his own chosen path to the Ultimate Bliss. All he was keen seems to be was improvement in English, the gateway to the wide world.

The handbill pushed into my hands indicated the details of the lecture about to be delivered and the final outcome of promising a place in an American University that had toppled Nirvana far below the destination of the robed ones who are supposed to have forsaken all worldly pleasures. Well, learning English is certainly not a worldly pleasure unless you take literally injunctions that exhibit themselves at highway junctions as "Learn English with a smile", "Learn English with a laugh", "Eat, drink and sleep in English!"

Despite my initial frustrating experience I did meet the old sage who sat under the peepal tree. He did tell me a lot and on the total exit of Buddhism in India he had this to say with typical die - hard optimism.

"No. Buddhism here will not be extinguished by the Bhakti cults. It will come back full circle and stay on just like the never - ending rustle of the peepal leaves and the sheen of white sands before our image houses.

Well. Mystic prophesies and actual flow of history are not bed - fellows. Sometimes they run contrary courses.