It was a wet and rainy day in July. My husband and I had wandered all over London but had left the best for the last. This was the famous head of the Gandhara Buddha at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Little did we realise that this would be but the beginning of a search – not for enlightenment perhaps, but certainly one that involved curiosity, sorrow, perseverance, and eventual bliss.
Our story goes back to 60 years ago when a boy of 17 saw a picture of this image in a local newspaper. He was so taken in by it that he made a detailed sketch of it and read up all that he could find about the sculpture.
Futile search
Now he and I were all agog to finally have a glimpse of this exquisite figure. But after roving through all the Buddha images displayed at the museum, we drew a blank on this one. We went to the information desk where a novice was on duty. She tried looking it up on her computer and invited my husband to take two steps into her space to look too. But that was not permitted! The master materialised to admonish his chela and we retreated. This was not the right way, it seemed.
A week later my husband and I took different paths. He to India, and I to Vancouver. After reaching home he sent me an email to say he had searched again and found that the head of the Gandhara Buddha was indeed at the Victoria and Albert.
Then began an extraordinary trail. I wrote to the V and A Museum describing our experience.
There was an immediate response to say they deeply regretted the error, and indeed the Buddha was safely ensconced in their storage vault awaiting an exhibition. Would I like to make an appointment for a special viewing, was the courteous query.
A light shines
Oh yes, please, I chanted, but when and how? A small light illumined the way. On my way home from Vancouver, I was going to spend a night at a hotel near Heathrow airport. But would I make it to the museum before they closed? More chinks of light began to radiate. It was a Friday and the museum was open till later. All these gems of information came from the faithful one in faraway Bangalore!
Our son mapped my journey from the hotel to the train station and thereon to the V and A, along with the time it would take. Then Mara struck! My flight to London was delayed by over an hour. Could I still make it? I looked at my fellow passengers on the flight. Little did they imagine the turmoil in my mind!
The curator was apologetic but not as desperate as I was. “If you can’t make it, we invite you to return to London any time, and we will arrange for you to see the head.” Pure illusion!
But something drove me on. The train station was much farther than the map showed and as I puffed along, I tried not to let despair overtake me.
I was on the final stretch now along the subway tunnel leading to the museum. We had stopped to stare and admire each poster and painting when we came this way a month earlier. Now it was a blur as I ran past. I wended my way to the reception desk. Could I meet the curator please? It was not so simple. I had to pass the final test. Then I heard him say on the phone, “Yes ...she is here.” A tremendous calm came over me and as from a distance I heard the man say, “Please take a seat.” All I could say in reply was, “I will take a deep breath instead!”
Then as in a dream, I was being led into the vault by a caring figure, and — there it was! The beautiful head of the Buddha, perfect in form and shape, dating from the 4th or 5th century A.D. found in Taxila, in what is now Pakistan. I was seeing it not for myself, but for that young man of 17 who had a long tryst with this Buddha.
usha.mukunda @gmail.com
