Pig surprised me when she asked; “Daddy, as long as we are in India could we visit the Ajanta caves?”  I only knew of this place because we sell a beautiful coffee table book about the caves in the Five Elements Library at Primitive.  So I said “yes,” and the next day we were on the road.  First, we took a flight to Bombay, then another to Aurangabad, and finally a long drive to the village of Ajanta and the caves themselves.

I knew the caves because of the book.  They are monasteries and temples carved deep into the sides of a rock gorge dating from 200 B.C. to 600 A.D.  During their time, every single wall, ceiling, column, lintel and statue was painted with absolutely amazing, early Buddhist art.  They endure as one of the oldest and finest examples of this art in the world.  One of my nieces later admitted she thought we were going to look at stalactites and stalagmites, but she wasn’t the only one in for a surprise. 

The caves are amazing, astounding, astonishing, breathtaking, engaging.  You choose the adjective.  There are 29 in all.  What remains of the painting and sculpture inside is both dumbfounding and exhilarating.  How could any group sustain this kind of effort?  The answer can only be because they were utterly devoted and extremely talented.  The caves were discovered in 1819 by British soldiers on a hunting expedition, suggesting there’s still time for each of us to discover something unbelievable during our lifetime.

As I went from cave to cave, it was hard to believe they were not included in the Seven Wonders of the World.  As you may have read in a previous blog, just before this visit I had been to the Taj Mahal, and in comparison I felt the caves were a truly memorable feat of humankind.  The Taj was completed in 22 years by 20,000 workers.  The caves took eight centuries and who knows how many artisans.  Both were extraordinary, but I soon learned the caves offered something more.

Five of the caves are temples.  The other 24 were used as monasteries.  Each has a distinct personality.  In some, the paintings have worn away leaving only the carvings to make a lasting impression.   In others, what remains of the paintings steal the show with their subtle colors and engaging imagery.  There are countless masterpieces; however, once the shock of the artistic achievement wore off, I noticed something unbelievably unique about the artwork.

Appearing discreetly among the sculptures and paintings from long ago were depictions of Pig, or at least one of her distant ancestors.  There, at Buddha’s feet was Pig in prayer; in a painting about to be rescued by a smiling white pachyderm was Pig, arms akimbo; dwarfed as she looked up to a gigantic Buddha was Pig.  She appeared everywhere, and when I looked down at my bag she appeared in person, reminding me that her particular brand of love, innocence, and understanding has been around a long, long time.