Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

^0 T H E D R U M 06Sangha at Amaravati. Until after sunset, salutations to the white lotuscontinued to pour forth.N I C KThe afternoon of the second day I wanted to write some letters home.The constant drumming made it impossible in the temple—it was hardeven to think, let alone compose a letter. So I went off to find somewherequiet and out of the way. The mound I headed for had one ofthe small blue enamelled signs that say in English and Hindi that thesite is of archaeological importance and is not to be damaged. It seemeda very inadequate defence against the forces of destruction: the signwas dwarfed by the large flat mound and so worn that most of the Hindipart could not be made out. Not that many of the local people wouldhave been able to read it anyhow—Bihar has the lowest literacy rate inIndia.The mound was covered with archaeological excavations. Most ofthem were old, and the exposed dull orange brickwork was beginningto crumble away. A few were apparently still in progress with fencinground them, though no one was to be seen working. In the distant cornera small group of trees sheltered a building that looked like an abandonedtemple. Built of brick, it had a large wooden door covered withcarvings, so worn that I took it at first to be simply rough wood. I sat inthe shade of the trees looking across the plain to the south and west.The mound was at most only twenty feet high, but in the Ganges plainthat is ten feet above most anything else, and the views were excellent.It was a great place but I still could not write. I was feeling lethargicand uninterested in anything that required the slightest effort. At theprevious holy sites we had been like that, but this time it was muchworse, and it was taking much longer to pass.Eventually I got out a leaflet from Vaishali’s one-man tourist office. Ireckoned I could manage that; there was little to it, just a title for each1 5 5