We left Indore in the morning to head to Bhopal and Sanchi. An end of one part of our journey as we raced toward another. We were determined to cut short travel times to a minimum. That was the plan anyway. Suffice to say that we didn’t reach our destination anywhere close to the intended time. Instead of driving with the single minded determination of a local tempo driver, we stopped, meandered along our route and rediscovering the road. I think it was the windmills that took us off course this time. Narrow broken tarmac and mud plastered huts announced the village nearby. Well! Broken tarmac before the village and no roads after. Large stones, open drains, some parts of the path raised for no reason and buffalos- in other words any typical village. We stopped, answered questions and did our very best at rural marketing… potential customers no doubt.
We followed our path back and followed the highway between Indore and Bhopal. Most of the highway is being widened but the sections that were done were great to drive on. The two wide lanes separated by rows of trees all along the way. We reached Bhopal and made our way to the Union Carbide Factory. Most of what we witnessed has been covered by Radhika and to say we were disheartened would be putting it mildly. I’m not sure but sometimes I think we have so much history in this country we get desensitized to a lot of those stories.

Sanchi was barely 60km from Bhopal and was a welcome relief. Completely unexpected and brilliant.

Sanchi, a Buddhist center with some of the finest examples of Buddhist art was built in 3rd century BC by Ashoka. Built at a time when Buddha was never represented directly, the episodes of Buddhas lives are carved and depicted through the Jataka Tales. I won’t go into lengthy descriptions and I hope the pictures will illustrate it better.

What did amaze me though was how the place was full of contradictions that are typical of India. As I sat and stared at the carvings, I could hear the train below blowing its whistle loud and clear, slicing the air and unsettling the place. Just as you got used to the peace and quiet you would hear the sound of another train announcing its arrival or departure.
 

That, of course, was not the main entertainment for the day. A large group having settled on the grass after exploring the place suddenly burst into screaming and heavy gesturing. In a matter of minutes there were children and adults all actively pointing and hopping down the slope. Getting there I found an elderly gentleman from the group waiting for the rest who had now found their way down to a shallow natural pool below. Seeing the camera in my hand he looked at me and said “peacock, peacock …go take photo.”
I looked on at the group still hysterically trying to locate the bird below and I looked back at the magnificence of the Sanchi Stupas behind me and sighed. If only our monuments generated this much of excitement. We do have too much of history.