Introduction
Bodh Gaya, a small town in Bihar state, rests quietly beside the Phalgu River, a tributary of the Ganges. This sacred site is known as the place where Prince Siddhartha attained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree approximately 2,500 years ago, becoming the Buddha. Scattered temples across the dry earth, people draped in colorful saris, markets filled with the aroma of spices—this land, set slightly apart from India’s usual chaos, holds within it silence and prayer.
Present-day Bodh Gaya is lined with temples built by Buddhist communities from around the world. Thai temples, Japanese temples, Myanmar temples, Tibetan temples—each maintains its homeland’s architectural style while harmonizing with this sacred ground. The area centered around the Mahabodhi Temple is registered as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, drawing pilgrims and travelers from across the globe.
I chose this destination because I wanted to step away from my busy daily life and face myself in silence. After a long train journey from Delhi, I turned my steps toward this holy land.
Day 1: Gateway to the Sacred Land
A three-hour taxi ride from Patna airport. Through the window, the Bihar plains stretched endlessly—green rice fields and red earthen roads as far as the eye could see. Along the way, cattle leisurely crossed the road while our driver honked his horn with practiced ease. These quintessentially Indian scenes gradually filled my heart with the exhilaration of travel.
As we entered Bodh Gaya town, the air seemed to change. In contrast to Patna’s bustling noise, a gentle rhythm of time flowed here. My guesthouse was located in a quiet spot about ten minutes’ walk from the Mahabodhi Temple. The building was simple but clean, with a small Bodhi tree planted in the courtyard. After checking in and setting down my luggage, I took a moment to breathe. The afternoon sunlight fell gently across the courtyard.
On my first afternoon, I headed straight to the Mahabodhi Temple. The 52-meter tower built of red sandstone soaring toward the blue sky appeared far more majestic than any photograph could capture. Inside the complex, pilgrims from around the world walked quietly. Myanmar monks in orange robes, Sri Lankan devotees dressed in white, Japanese visitors with prayer beads in hand.
Behind the temple stood the famous Bodhi tree. Said to be a direct descendant of the tree under which Buddha attained enlightenment, its thick trunk supported branches that spread wide, beneath which sat the stone Vajrasana throne. Many people walked clockwise around it in meditation. I joined their procession and began walking slowly.
In the silence filled only with footsteps and voices of prayer, I was enveloped by a strange sensation. The flow of 2,500 years felt like but a moment. Under this tree, a prince had entered deep meditation and discovered the essence of suffering and the path to liberation. The resonance of that moment seemed to linger in this place even now.
In the evening, I ordered dal curry and chapati at a small nearby eatery. The simple lentil curry, fragrant with cumin and coriander, stirred my appetite. The shop owner greeted me in broken English: “Welcome to Buddha’s town.” Touched by the warmth of the local people, my heart began to soften.
That night, I climbed to the guesthouse rooftop to find a canopy of stars spread across the sky. Countless stars impossible to see in any city. Beneath them, I reflected on the day’s events. My first night in sacred Bodh Gaya passed quietly, embraced by silence and starlight.
Day 2: A Day of Prayer and Meditation
At 5 AM, I awakened to birdsong. Morning comes early in India. I dressed slowly and walked through the dim streets to join the morning prayers at Mahabodhi Temple. Through the morning mist, the temple tower stood silhouetted against the sky—a phantasmagorical sight.
In the complex, many monks and devotees had already gathered as chanting began. As Pali sutras resonated through the morning air, I quietly pressed my palms together. Though I couldn’t understand the words, the sound carried a power to calm the heart. Morning sunlight filtered through Bodhi leaves, softly illuminating the Vajrasana. In this moment, I felt I was truly touching something sacred.
Breakfast was served in the guesthouse dining room: Indian-style tea chai, fried bread called puri, and vegetable curry. The mild spicing was gentle on my morning body. Through the dining room window, I could see the small courtyard where children played innocently—a heartwarming sight.
During the morning, I decided to tour temples from various countries. First, I visited the Japanese temple. Passing through the vermillion torii gate, I found myself in a completely Japanese space: tatami-floored main hall, wooden fish drum sounds, incense fragrance. I almost forgot I was in India. In the main hall, a Japanese monk was instructing zazen meditation, and I was invited to participate.
Straightening my spine, gazing ahead with half-open eyes, focusing solely on breathing. In this silence far from urban noise, I felt my mental chatter gradually subside. After about thirty minutes of zazen, the monk spoke about “the importance of emptying the mind.” His words resonated deeply with my heart, slightly confused by travel fatigue.
The Thai temple I visited next impressed me with its colorful decorations. Golden Buddha statues, intricately carved pillars, murals depicting paradise. Thai monks were returning from their alms rounds, their orange robes beautiful in the morning light. In the courtyard, devotees offered lotus flowers and quietly prayed.
At the Tibetan temple, colorful prayer flags fluttered in the wind. Pilgrims walking while spinning prayer wheels, deep chanting voices, the aroma of butter tea. For a moment, I felt transported to the Himalayan highlands. Each temple carefully preserved its homeland culture while harmonizing as part of this sacred site. The scene seemed to symbolize the world’s diversity and our common spiritual seeking.
Lunch was at a small family-run restaurant near the market. I ordered litti chokha, a local Bihar dish. Litti—dough stuffed with lentils and spices then baked—served with chokha made from eggplant, tomatoes, and potatoes roasted over charcoal. Simple yet deeply flavorful, it gave me a glimpse into local people’s lives.
In the afternoon, I ventured out to Sujata village, said to be where Buddha received milk rice from the village maiden Sujata before attaining enlightenment. The path to the village was a quiet walk through pastoral scenery. Farmers working in fields, water buffalo wallowing in ponds, elderly men napping under mango trees—Indian rural daily life unfolded before me.
The Sujata Stupa was a small Buddhist monument, but deep silence surrounded it. Here Buddha ended six years of ascetic practice and awakened to the Middle Way teaching. This was where he realized that not extreme austerity but moderate practice was the path to enlightenment. I sat in the tree shade and spent time in meditation. Wind caressed my cheek, birds sang. Here I remembered the sense of unity with nature so easily forgotten in city life.
On the way back to Bodh Gaya in the evening, I watched the sunset from the banks of the Niranjana River. Though not particularly wide, the quiet current reflected the setting sun in golden light. Across the water, I could see women doing laundry. This landscape where daily life and sacred ground coexisted moved me deeply.
That night I visited Mahabodhi Temple again. The nighttime temple showed a completely different face from daytime. Candlelight illuminated the complex, deepening the silence further. Many pilgrims sat around the Bodhi tree in meditation. I joined them, sitting quietly as the day’s conclusion.
Reflecting on the day in my heart, I felt definite change. My spirit felt lighter than in the morning, daily worries seemed distant things. Was this the mysterious power of this sacred place, or transformation that travel had brought me? Surely it was both.
Day 3: Farewell and New Beginnings
On my final morning, I woke earlier than usual. Before 5 AM, still in darkness, I wanted to walk slowly through Bodh Gaya town one last time. Leaving the guesthouse, street lamps glowed dimly through morning mist. Dogs strolled leisurely along roadsides while distant roosters crowed.
Arriving at Mahabodhi Temple, morning prayers had already begun. Perhaps because it was my last morning, the chanting seemed to resonate more deeply in my heart than ever. I sat before the Bodhi tree, quietly reflecting on these past two days. The excitement of the first day, the deep meditative experience of the second day, and this morning’s peaceful feeling. Though a brief stay, I felt something had definitely changed within me.
After breakfast, I used the time before checkout to walk through the market once more. The morning market bustled with energy. Vegetable vendors called out prices loudly while sari-clad women examined produce. Passing the spice shop, the rich aromas of turmeric, cardamom, and cinnamon tickled my nose.
At a small souvenir shop, I bought a bookmark made from Bodhi tree leaves. The elderly shopkeeper told me in English, “This is from a real Bodhi tree.” Holding it up, beautiful leaf veins emerged clearly. This small bookmark would become an item to remind me of my Bodh Gaya experience.
My final morning hours were spent at the archaeological museum. Buddhist artifacts excavated from this region were displayed, including beautiful Buddha statues from the Gupta period, ancient coins, and tiles. Particularly impressive were stone carvings depicting Buddha’s life. From birth to nirvana, each scene was carefully carved. I realized that people 2,500 years ago, like us today, suffered, held hope, and sought salvation.
Lunch was at the family-run eatery I’d visited several times during my stay. As a farewell gesture, the owner specially prepared masala chai for me. The rich chai, flavored with ginger and cardamom, tasted better than any I’d had before. At his warm words, “Please come again,” my eyes grew hot with tears.
In the afternoon, the time came to take a taxi to Patna airport. While packing, I was surprised how quickly these three days had passed. Yet they also felt incredibly dense with experience. Guesthouse staff came out to see me off, waving and saying, “Have a good journey.”
As the taxi started moving, Bodh Gaya’s scenery slowly passed by the window. The Mahabodhi Temple tower, various temple rooftops, market bustle, Bodhi tree greenery—all had already become nostalgic landscapes.
Along the way, the driver asked, “How was Bodh Gaya?” After thinking briefly, I answered, “Very peaceful, it calmed my heart. I definitely want to return.” He smiled and said, “This land has the power to change people. Many say so.”
The sunset visible through the car window painted the Bihar plains golden. Farmers working in rice fields, grazing cattle and water buffalo, village children waving—everything was etched in my heart as beautiful memories.
During the three-hour drive to the airport, I quietly reflected on my journey. The time spent in Bodh Gaya had definitely left something within me. It might not be a great transformation, but I felt I could see things from a different perspective when returning to daily life. Even amid busy days, I could remember the silence felt under that Bodhi tree.
At Patna airport, I completed check-in and ordered one final chai while waiting to board. As spice aromas touched my nostrils, everything vividly returned: morning prayers in Bodh Gaya, meditation at various temples, warm encounters in the market. Though a brief journey, it had been one of the most memorable in a long time.
In Closing
Looking back, those two nights and three days in Bodh Gaya felt like dreamlike time. Yet simultaneously, such a real experience was rare. The sound of morning chanting, the taste of chai, the rustle of Bodhi leaves, and above all, the peace of heart felt in silence—all remain vividly in my heart now.
This journey was a product of imagination; I never actually set foot there. Yet through writing, I felt Bodh Gaya’s atmosphere, touched the warmth of its people, and was moved by the mysterious power of this sacred place. Though imaginary, it’s carved deeply within me as memory that feels as if it truly existed.
Perhaps travel isn’t solely about physical movement. Journeying in the heart, encountering different cultures in imagination, learning something from them—this too may be a precious form of travel. This imaginary journey co-created with AI taught me new possibilities for travel.
When the day comes that I actually visit Bodh Gaya, it will surely overlap with these imaginary travel memories, creating an even deeper experience. Until that day, like a bookmark made from Bodhi leaves, I want to carefully preserve this memory in my heart.
