Watching The Sun Rise With 504 Buddhas IN Borobudur.

.

 

 

When in Yogyakarta, you don’t want to miss Java’s Buddhist treasures — Borobudur. Four a.m. is a terrible time of day, too late for night owls, too early for early risers. The exception is 4 a.m. at Borobudur, waiting for the sun to rise over the Kedu Plain in central Java with 504 figures of Buddha. The heavens really opened up, and water, the equivalent of Niagara Falls, Victoria Falls and probably a few hundred other waterfalls combined, fell upon the earth. Or to be less dramatic about the whole thing – it rained like there was no tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

But I told Arthur and the crew to took comfort from an old Indian belief that says if it rains, you are being blessed by the gods. And after all, we were heading towards a majestic temple complex built in the 9th century. This 9th century Mahayana Buddhist monument has six square platforms topped by three circular platforms, and is decorated with 2,672 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues. The main dome located at the centre of the top platform is surrounded by 72 Buddhas. Borobudur was restored between 1975 and 1982. The temple is 40km northwest of Jogja, and the view you get from the top is incredible. The whole valley sprawls below it as you take in the fantastic 360° view. There were many visitors when we were there but not too many. We still got that sense of calm and peace at the top. The largest Buddhist temple in the world is Borobudur, near Yogyakarta, Central Java, Indonesia, built between AD 750 and 842.”

It says the 60,000-cubic-meter stone structure stands 47 meters tall, with its base measuring 123 by 123 meters.
The temple is one of three great religious sites in Southeast asia but it's older and more esoteric than Bagan in Myanmar and Angkor Wat in Cambodia. It was begun in the 8th century by the Sailendras, a dynasty of Buddhist kings who ruled central Java for almost 200 years until their power waned and the temple was abandoned.

The stepped pyramid rises in nine levels to a single bell-shaped stupa surrounded by galleries. The pilgrims walk around them, meditating on stone reliefs that tell the life story of Siddhartha Gautama, an Indian prince who transcended life's pain and became the Lord Buddha.

Buddhist use water as an offering to symbolically represent giving up some worldly things, and water is chosen because even the most poor person can obtain water to carry out the ceremony.
A lot of restoration work has gone into Borobudur which suffered extensive damage after the May 2006 earthquake in Java. In fact, many of the inner temples are still out of bounds to visitors because they are not structurally safe.

As we came within sight of the imposing peaks of the temple, it started to rain again. We took shelter at the very small security post that already had three security guards squeezed inside. Soon, many laughing and drenched kids from a school tour, as well as tourists, also tried to cram their bedraggled selves in there.

When the rain eased off, we decided to make the best of our time there. The weather did not distract us from the magnificent surroundings. It was quite awesome to see the black clouds hovering over the tiered temple, which rose to 47m at the highest point. It took our breath away. The shooting started from here.

You can circle the monument with them or climb to the top, but only by looking at a diagram can you tell that the temple is shaped like a mandala, a mystical scheme of the Buddhist cosmos. The three levels denote states of consciousness, from human suffering to enlightenment. Little is known beyond that, leaving the cosmos locked shut while Borobudur reigns, silent and solitary, over the volcano-ringed garden of Java.

The arched staircases from level to level are treacherously steep, overlooked by gaping-mouthed gargoyle water spouts, nymphs (or apsaras), dancing arms akimbo, and niches enshrining Buddha figures, each with hands in different symbolic poses (or mudras). His life story unfolds on the middle level, starting at the left side of the eastern entrance with stone panels of great vividness, recalling the medieval Bayeux tapestry in France. I ran my hand over a carving of Queen Maya in a carriage headed for Lumbini Park, where she gave birth to the Buddha.

 

 

This time, we climbed to the top levels, which are round, not rectangular, and bare except for their forest of stupas, perforated to allow peeks at Buddha statues inside. Experts say that Borobudur's more abstract upper precincts, especially its empty central stupa, reflect nirvana, a state of being beyond human consciousness.

But how could they know? How could anyone know, even sitting atop the temple watching the pinkness of sunrise pool in a halo around soon-to-erupt Mt. Merapi, where the mystery of the cosmos remains secure? But if there is a keyhole to it anywhere, I'd wager it's at Borobudur.

Just then a clap of thunder thwacked à la Macbeth, and guards began herding visitors to a gate far from the one I'd entered.

It was a good thing that it only started pouring again after we had reached the top. Either we were plain lucky or we were now protected by one of the gods!

And the helicopters are already waiting for us to take us back to Yogya and waiting for our next journey. . . .