The Ajanta Caves, Part 2

At the entrance to the Ajanta cave park lies a space station. Upon closer inspection, it is not actually a space station. It has a large metallic dome, though, and many metallic cylinders. It has a gigantic parking lot and a beautiful garden right outside, polished, clean floors and many chairs and tables and no tourists. Ilan and I walked in, and found ourselves in a one of the nicest maintained buildings I've been in in India, well staffed (there were probably fifty or so people walking around, doing nothing much), clean, and cool: air conditioned, even! It is a museum set up by the Maharashtra Tourism Development Company, with an architecture designed around the golden spiral and many informative information placards and four full scale replicas of caves, and no tourists. We were the only non-staff members there. They didn't charge us anything, because presumably no one would pay. To go see plastic replicas of the caves when the real-life caves are just a five minute bus ride away seems absurd, and I guess most people felt similarly. There were two empty restaurants and an empty student's cafeteria, an empty auditorium and an empty gift shop, a beautiful and dry water fixture and staff wandering listlessly back and forth, some cleaning or busying themselves whatever way they could, some sitting around and talking, and always one or two watching Ilan and I curiously. It felt like walking around an abandoned theme park, or perhaps like in Jurassic Park, when the park hasn't opened and it feels like something is just wrong. I suppose if the statues of Buddha came alive, nothing much would change.

Anyways: ridiculous!

…

I have now been in Fardapur for 7 days, visiting Ajanta on four of those days, wandering around and writing and reading on the off days. It is a very nice little town. People are still always trying to sell me things. On my third day, I walked through the caves with Ilan, and it was interesting and good to talk with him about them, to get another perspective and try and see what he was seeing. In one cave, a man gestured to us excitedly, and said “Echo!” and climbed over the fence and into one of the monks' cells. He stared out at us, saying “Ohhhhhhh” while the sound reverberated through the cave, with wide eyes that spoke slightly of fear, slightly of desperation (these were probably not the emotions that he was actually feeling, but the overall effect, with the “Ohhhh” and the eyes, were something along those lines). Upon coming back, he asked us for a tip. We said we had no money.

After walking through the caves, we went to explore the surrounding area: go for a little hike. We found a waterfall! It was pretty majestic. And a lookout which gives a view of all of the caves, and of the mountains beyond them and a village up in the hills. Above the waterfall, there was a bend in the river which looked excellent to swim in. A woman from a nearby village was walking towards it to wash some clothes.

We decided to walk back to Fardapur directly, finding on our way hopefully the giant statue of Buddha that we had seen in passing lurking on the other side of the hills from the caves. Hopping across the river, we found a path that took us in what seemed to be the correct direction, but then: security guards. They told us that there job was to keep the people and cows outside of the small gate that they were sitting in front of. We said “Fine” and that we, too, wanted to be out, but they wouldn't let us. It was one of the nicest interactions with a security guard I've ever had, though! Instead of letting us through, one of them accompanied us for a short while, telling us about his life and having asking us about ours, pointing out some nice view points and a shortcut that we could take to get back. The next day, we ran into him again, walking down around the caves, and he gave us a section of guava!

…

Ilan left Saturday evening, and I have been alone ever since. The thought crossed my mind that I am the furthest from anyone I know that I have ever been. Then I remembered Paris, and how I didn't know anyone in Europe at the time. But there was probably someone in Europe, and anyways now I don't think anyone I know could arrive here with less than 6 hours of traveling. And I have no wifi. I kind of miss the internet. But, it can be nice without it! I took two days off from the caves to wander and read and write, as hinted at earlier.

On Sunday I walked over to a nearby hill, and climbed the hill. On my way, many people stopped and looked at me, occasionally asking me “What country?” and similar things. One person gave me some fresh-picked peas, which tasted pretty good. I also saw a large sign, upon which was written some words I couldn't really read. My offline translation app told me what the first word meant: “Danger.” It was unable to translate any of the other words, though. It was probably nothing. I climbed the hill, and became covered in burs and thorns, but the view was nice. In one direction, endless flatness and fields, either of hay or cotton, spread out and faded into the horizon. Women in brightly colored saris were working, picking the cotton by hand. One had waved kindly at me as I was halfway up the hill, and I took that as permission to do what I was doing. In the other direction, much of the same except punctuated by a range of hills or mountains, with some villages on tall plateaus and a few mountain top temples. It is a quiet area and I couldn't help but think how similar the view might have been, hundreds or thousands of years before. The construction around here is mostly simple, there are few tractors or complicated equipment in the fields, and people walk down the road with bushels of sticks balanced above their heads. Paved roads are rare. But for the space station, and the use of corrugated metal otherwise in construction, I feel that it must have been very similar.

…

I have been here long enough that many people recognize me, although I don't always recognize them. There is still a bit of tension about the fact that they are trying to sell me things and I am tryingnot to by things. Being alone in a town where almost all of your interactions are with people who are trying to profit off you is a little discombobulating. The kids are nice, though! They say hi, and wave, and every once in a while try to strike up a conversation with you. Typically, my Hindi is just a tad worse than their English, so it is not always the best conversation, but… And I mean, the same is true for almost everyone, when more complicated matters arise. Someone last night at dinner was asking something about Donald Trumps, but I just could not tell what! I really have down “What conutry?” though, and the interaction wherein they express pleased surprise at me saying something like “Thik he” or “Sunder” and ask me if I speak Hindi (in Hindi) and I respond “tora-tora.” I don't actually know what they are saying, I just here the word “hindi” and a question mark and so I respond “tora-tora” [a little bit] and they laugh about that. I have sat and drunk chai with Ali a few times, and he has been pretty nice but also almost entirely silent, just offering me chai and then sitting down and we drink chai next to eachother and say nothing. I bought something from him today, though, I don't know how much he profited by it (I didn't have that much money on me) but hopefully he did.

And I figured out a better way of getting to Ajanta from Fardapur. Previously, I would rickshaw both ways, but that is rather expensive. They would charge me 50 Rs. each way, which kind of adds up and is way more than I would pay in the city. And also they would go ahead and invite all their friends to ride to Ajanta as well, and there'd be 8 of us, 5 in the front and 3 in the back, riding to Ajanta and I guess I am the only one that needs to pay? So instead I just walk, and it is a kind of pleasant walk, by the fields and the space station, a bit hot but not unbearably so. And people are confused by this walking thing and almost always someone ends up offering me a ride on the back of their motorcycle for free.

I'm kind of sad to leave. It has been nice and quiet here. It will probably be nice and quiet in Ellora, too, though, and maybe I'll have internet this time so I don't just have to read the rest of the Harry Potter series and write long blog posts.