It began as such a simple getaway, it was the end of orientation and an entire group trip was needed before the start of the semester. Getting two days off of classes and traveling to two of the most awe-inspiring, picturesque sites, the Ajanta and Ellora Caves, I have ever witnessed in my life translated into a more concrete understanding of the reasons on why I came to the India.
On the first day, we arrived bright and early by rickshaw for the departure to the caves. I was in a surprisingly energetic, alert mood considering I only received four hours of sleep the previous night. Seeing a fresh sun after four days of constant rain, coupled with the first weekend out of Pune, created more of an internal equilibrium and intrigue about the events in store for the weekend than I could articulate. The bus we boarded was an odd mix of diarrhea brown and burnt orange with a weathered exterior and more haphazard interior. As we pulled away from the program office and the deafening air of the open windows on the highway became apparent, I knew it would be an advantageous weekend away from the hectic nature of the city.
The six-hour bus ride, full of bumps and dislodged objects hurdling towards the ground from the many open backpacks, was inhospitable to napping but the change of scenery provided more than an adequate compromise. Before we neared our final destination, we stopped over at an ancient fort about thirty kilometers from the Ajanta and Ellora Caves. The hilltop fort rose out of the landscape as if it were a sailboat riding atop perilous waves. The fort itself contained all the features associated with such an imposing structure: two moats, a surrounding barricade of interspersing walls and defensive positions, a strategic location, and a dark labyrinth to the trap unassuming attackers. The designers of the fort also happened to be genius with their inconspicuous additions to the architecture, including slanted walls and a tripping stone to further impede any sort of opponent. Another great surprise was the many monkeys chasing one another up and down the walls of the fort, having an uncanny ability to jump the many meters between the trees and surrounding structures. It also served as the first time that I have seen monkeys out of captivity.
The next day only enhanced the enjoyment of the weekend, as we ventured down the same observation point that a British solider took as he chased a tiger and stumbled upon the location of the Ajanta caves. Made up of the about thirty caves dug into solid rock presented as a gift by an ancient Mughal emperor so the wandering Buddhist monks would have permanent place of worship during the torrential monsoon seasons, the Ajanta caves do not follow a set pattern of design. Each cave varies tremendously in both size and ornamentation, some remain unfinished, others serve as a haunting shell of their previous embellishment. Many caves are dedicated to telling the life story of the Buddha. The murals still intact resembled the realism and vibrancy of some of the Renaissance paintings I have seen in history books. Until it was ‘discovered’ again by the British solider in the mid-1800s, the site did not fascinate the locals so essentially it was ‘lost’ to the folk mythology of the surrounding area.
On the last day of our travel weekend, we walked to the nearby Ellora caves, a site that our hotel overlooked. The caves at Ellora did not have same level of protection against congestation and erosion that the Ajanta ones had, which prohibited all vehicles in the vicinity and required all incoming tourists to take an environmentally green bus down to the valley containing the caves. As it was a Saturday and we were a large group of young white kids, we attracted quite the crowds at the exquisite temple, known as cave sixteen. Being such an anomaly and curiosity, we hired a second ‘guide’ that made the large amounts of people concentrating near us dissipate. It was the equivalent as if we were some C-list celebrity in America. Regardless of the surrounding attention, the level of detail and craftsmanship at the Ellora caves was an unprecedented level of beauty. The larger temple was dedicated to telling the story of Shiva, the destroyer deity in Hinduism, and his attempts to win over his love, Pavati. Some of the cave contained idol-worshipping denomination of Buddhism but regardless of the religious affiliation, many of the caves contained figures about as tall as the fifteen foot ceiling.
After lunch at our nearby hotel, we ventured back to the Ellora caves to go hiking in the hills surrounding the caves. After passing the huge waterfall of the park and a small herd of water buffalo, we stumbled upon a residential community atop on of the hills. The quest for exploration was strong, and after we gazed down into the valley, we noticed the dilapidated stone temples covered in mossy green on the left-hand side. There was not just one, but three we could see in the general vicinity. As we ventured to the closest one, the calls and cheers of a group of four boys caught our attention. At first glance we waved hello and continued on our way, but they ran to join us. A boy in a blue shirt, presenting us with his newest dance moves, proceeded to tell us his name was Abara. He spoke English well, and as we tried our fragmentary Marathi the more shy boys laughed, introducing themselves as well. From then one, it was pure spontaneity upon where the boys took us. It was instant joking and inquisitiveness, a moment of true bliss that we meet them. They took us to meet one of the boy’s mothers, who could not have been more than our age and used English terms more as concepts and less structured. Almost immediately, there was an influx of children, probably about twelve kids ranging in age from less than a year to no older than ten years, and a couple mothers from the household. The quick introduction lead to instant festivity because of the cameras we had out. Neither the kids nor the mothers could get enough of the photo taking and sharing. It was a moment of true bliss, seeing the most genuine smiles and reactions I have witnessed in this country. Using my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird as a paper, the mother shared her wish in receiving a ‘return photo’ of the vivid encounters we all just enjoyed and embraced by writing down her address. Unfortunately so, it was not legible or specific enough to send it exactly to her but as the spontaneity of the situation demonstrates there are possible means to get such a simple thing to a family that would enjoy the lasting image of the grateful day.
As we left, we heard the Muslim call to pray from the mosque down the street and later learned that when we got back to the hotel the area we ventured to is a Muslim community. It is this departure from the city than truly makes for the experience here in India.
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