Ancient centre of learning
Standing amidst the ancient ruins of Nalanda Mahavihara, I felt an overwhelming sense of awe and loss all at once. Here, at this once-flourishing center of knowledge, the heart of India’s intellectual and spiritual heritage beat for centuries. Nalanda, nestled in the fertile plains of Bihar, is no mere relic of the past. It is a symbol of India’s rich educational history, a reminder of a time when knowledge, wisdom, and scholarship were the cornerstones of society.
As I walked through what remains of the expansive university complex, I couldn’t help but imagine what it must have been like over a millennium ago. This was no ordinary institution. Nalanda Mahavihara was the world’s first residential university—its walls echoing with the voices of scholars from across Asia, debating philosophy, mathematics, medicine, and astronomy. And yet, what now lies in ruins was once one of the greatest centers of learning the world had ever known.
In its prime, Nalanda Mahavihara was a beacon of knowledge, attracting scholars and students from all over the world. Founded in the 5th century CE during the reign of the Gupta Empire, Nalanda grew to become one of the greatest universities of its time, with over 10,000 students and 2,000 teachers. It wasn’t just a center for Buddhist studies, though that was certainly its foundation. It offered an array of subjects, ranging from logic, grammar, and medicine to metaphysics, philosophy, and the study of languages.
As I stood by the remains of the massive library complex, I tried to imagine its shelves—once filled with ancient manuscripts, scrolls, and texts that encompassed the wisdom of civilizations. The library was said to be so vast that it was divided into three buildings, the largest of which was nine stories tall. Scholars who came here left with not just knowledge but enlightenment, a deeper understanding of life and the universe.
For foreign travel advisors unfamiliar with Nalanda’s significance, let me put it into perspective: Nalanda wasn’t just a university; it was the intellectual heart of the ancient world. Long before Europe’s Renaissance, long before the world’s most famous universities were established, Nalanda was at the forefront of global learning. Scholars came from China, Korea, Tibet, Japan, and Southeast Asia, bringing with them not just their thirst for knowledge but their own perspectives, enriching the intellectual atmosphere of Nalanda.
But like many of India’s great treasures, Nalanda was not spared from the ravages of invasion. As I wandered through the ruins, the weight of history pressed down on me—the stark reminder of the destruction that took place here in the 12th century, when Nalanda was set aflame by Bakhtiyar Khilji, a Turkish military general.
Why, I found myself wondering, would anyone destroy a place of such immense knowledge and learning? The answer lies in the invaders' motivations, which were twofold: religious and political.
Nalanda was a Buddhist institution, a religion that, at the time of its destruction, was facing a decline in India. The invaders, driven by religious zealotry, saw Buddhism as a threat. They sought to wipe out its influence, and what better way to do that than to destroy its greatest center of learning? By burning the libraries and killing the scholars, they effectively erased centuries of accumulated wisdom.
But there was also a political motive at play. Knowledge, in ancient times, was power. The intellectual leadership that places like Nalanda provided was a threat to invaders who wanted to impose their own rule. By dismantling centers of learning, they sought to disrupt the societal order, weakening India’s intellectual and cultural fabric.
One can hardly describe the pain of what was lost in those flames. It is said that Nalanda’s library burned for months, so vast was its collection. As I stood before the charred remains of what must have been an immense storehouse of knowledge, I felt a profound sense of loss. The destruction of Nalanda was not just the loss of a university—it was the loss of thousands of years of accumulated human knowledge.
Imagine for a moment the impact such an event would have had. The loss of manuscripts on mathematics, astronomy, and medicine that were far ahead of their time, as well as Buddhist texts that were critical to the spread of the religion across Asia, must have been devastating. Scholars who survived were scattered, many fleeing to Tibet, China, and other parts of Asia, taking with them fragments of knowledge that would never fully be recovered.
As I continued to explore the ruins, another question arose: Why, after centuries of colonial rule, did Nalanda remain buried, forgotten, and left to decay? The British, who ruled India for almost 200 years, had little interest in reviving or preserving what they considered to be relics of a “backward” past.
There was a deliberate effort, during British rule, to portray India as a land that had no intellectual or cultural achievements of its own. The British colonial narrative was built on the idea of the “civilizing mission”—that they had come to India to bring enlightenment and progress. Reviving Nalanda would have been a direct challenge to this narrative, a reminder that India had once been home to a thriving, sophisticated intellectual culture long before Europe had awakened from its Dark Ages.
It served the colonial agenda to keep Nalanda in ruins, for it was a symbol of India’s past glory, a past that they preferred to keep hidden. By leaving such centers of knowledge in decay, they effectively erased a crucial part of India’s intellectual legacy, reinforcing the idea that India needed European enlightenment to prosper.
As I walked among the ruins, I realized that Nalanda’s story is one that must be told, not just for the sake of history but for the sake of India’s identity. The destruction of Nalanda was not just the destruction of a physical structure; it was an assault on the very idea of knowledge, of intellectual freedom. In today’s world, where education and knowledge are still under threat in many parts of the globe, Nalanda stands as a symbol of what can be lost when we fail to protect our intellectual heritage.
For those of you who curate experiences for travelers, Nalanda Mahavihara offers a profound connection to India’s past—one that goes beyond the monuments and temples most tourists visit. It’s a place that tells the story of India’s contributions to global knowledge, a story that has been overshadowed for too long.
As I stood there, reflecting on Nalanda’s legacy, I couldn’t help but feel both a sense of pride and sadness. Pride in what India had once achieved and sadness for what was lost. But as I left the site, I carried with me a renewed sense of purpose—determined to share Nalanda’s story with the world, to ensure that this forgotten chapter of history is remembered and celebrated.
For travel advisors, Nalanda represents an opportunity to offer something truly unique to your clients: a journey not just through space, but through time—an experience that will leave them with a deeper understanding of India’s intellectual heritage and the fragility of human knowledge.
Nalanda Mahavihara is more than just a ruin—it is a symbol of a civilization that valued knowledge above all, and that, despite the forces that sought to erase it, remains an indelible part of India’s story.
My team and I at Indi Horizons can help you incorporate Nalanda in your Clients Itinerary and help them experience India the way it is meant to be.