The Twisted Tale of Nalanda
India has been a land of wonder since time immemorial. Amidst other things, the golden bird was a haven for knowledge seekers. One of the ancient universities of Nalanda propagated a holistic curriculum, inviting international scholars from all over Asia. Nalanda's future was uncertain with the threat of a fatal tragedy.
Tracing its roots back to the 5th century, Nalanda flourished as a centre for learning under the patronage of Kumaragupta I of the Gupta Dynasty. His successors and later the emperor of Kannauj, Harshavardhana, facilitated the smooth functioning of this ancient university.
Equipped with dormitories for its students and residential space for its teachers, Nalanda was one of a kind. Its library, called the Dharma ganja (Piety Mart), was a dream of every bibliophile and scholar out there. Divided into three large multistoried buildings, the Ratnasagara, the Ratnodadhi, and the Ratnaranjaka, the library approximately inhabited 9 million manuscripts, if not more.
Nalanda's fame and prowess naturally attracted predators. Time and again, it survived many attacks by various invaders who wanted to demolish its culture and threaten the power of its patrons. The past witnessed many such cases of ambush in ancient politics, and Nalanda was not different.
The first was instigated by Huns (Central Asian tribal group) under the command of Mihirkula during the reign of Skandagupta. The latter went unphased by the attack and restored Nalanda to its former glory. The second attack took place under the leadership of Gaudas of Bengal in the 7th century. The then patron of Nalanda, Harshavardhana, took it upon himself to commission the restoration project.
The third and final attack on Nalanda proved to be the most severe and destructive anecdotes of history. The reason behind this ambush was not only political but also had some religious undertones.
The legend has it that the infamous Turkish invader, Bakhtiyar Khilji, fell so sick that no learned hakim in his court could heal him. The disease that plagued his body was deemed uncurable by all his physicians.
Then someone suggested an ailing Khilji to consult Rahul Sri Bhadra, the head of Ayurvedic science at Nalanda. Khilji's pride and stubbornness prevented him from going to a Hindu doctor. Over time, his condition worsened, leaving him with no other choice but to seek Bhadra's aid. Bhadra rushed for a check-up and prepared the medicine for Khilji. The latter chose to stick with his mistrust and refused to consume any herbal medicine made by a Hindustani.
Surrendering to Khilji's child-like tantrum, Bhadra devised a new plan. He gifted Khilji the Quran and asked him to read a few pages daily. Within the course of a few months, Khilji recovered miraculously.
On a deeper enquiry, Khilji discovered Bhadra's trick. Sri Bhadra had applied the medicine on the pages of the Quran. On a daily read, Khilji inhaled the scent of the medicine while touching it when flipping the pages. Unbeknownst to Khilji, this contact with the medicine was his daily dose of the cure.
Naturally, such a turn of events did not sit well with Khilji. Enraged by the fact that a Hindustani physician made the impossible a breathing reality, while his Muslim hakims gave up, became the bone of contention. Driven by vain jealousy, Khilji ordered to snap the source of the problem.
And that's how Nalanda's pool of knowledge, Dharma ganja, was set on fire. Not only this, Khilji went on a rampage with the decision of burning Buddhist monks and scholars alive.
The fire of hatred burnt the campus of Nalanda for three months, as recorded by Minhaj-i-Siraj, Khilji's court historian. In his Tabaqat-i Nasiri, Siraj vividly describes the plunder of the riches of the monastery and the large scale execution of scholars. Apart from Nalanda, other famous schools of learning like the Odantapura, Vikramshila and later Jagaddala also met the same fate under Khilji's imperialist plans.
And that's how India lost its vital hub of knowledge. Khilji did not destroy a mere university but also demolished the art of giving and receiving knowledge. Nalanda was thus shrouded in the blanket of oblivion until its excavation in the 19th century.