Udayagiri and Khandagiri Caves

Put your palm flat against the rock. It is a warm, gritty sandstone, the colour of weak tea and old bread. Here and there it feels rough, worn down by rain and by many centuries of hands. Around you, two low hills rise out of the green edge of Bhubaneswar. Their slopes are full of small, dark doorways. Each one opens into a room carved from the living rock... by people who lived here more than two thousand years ago.

These are the twin hills of Udayagiri and Khandagiri. They face each other across a narrow road, like two old friends who stopped mid-conversation. Udayagiri means the hill of sunrise. Khandagiri is usually translated as the broken hill. Together they hold dozens of rock-cut chambers. Udayagiri is commonly counted with eighteen caves, Khandagiri with fifteen. Most of them date to around the first and second centuries before the Common Era.

So who carved them, and why? The answer is a religion that many visitors do not expect to find here. These caves were made for Jain monks. Jainism is an ancient Indian faith built on non-violence, self-discipline and the renunciation of worldly comfort. Its monks wandered for much of the year. During the monsoon rains, however, they needed shelter. Travel in the wet season risked harming the small creatures that rain brings out. These hills gave them a dry, quiet place to stay, meditate and study.

That explains the strange scale of the rooms. Step into one and you will notice it immediately. The ceilings are low — often too low to stand upright. The cells are narrow. These were not grand halls for crowds. They were sleeping cells for a few people at a time. In several caves, look down at the floor along the back wall. You may find a slightly raised strip of rock at one end. Many guides describe it as a stone pillow, carved for a monk's head.

The great name connected to these hills is Kharavela. He was a king of Kalinga, the ancient name for much of the region that is now Odisha. Kalinga is remembered in Indian history for an earlier, terrible war. In the third century before the Common Era, the Mauryan emperor Ashoka conquered it with huge loss of life. That bloodshed is said to have turned Ashoka towards Buddhism. Kharavela came later, and he ruled a Kalinga that had become strong and independent again.

His story survives here because of one remarkable piece of writing. On Udayagiri, look for the cave known as Hathigumpha, the Elephant Cave. Above its overhang runs a long inscription cut into the rock. It is written in Prakrit, an early everyday language, using the Brahmi script, one of the oldest writing systems of India. The text describes Kharavela's reign year by year — his building works, his celebrations and his military campaigns. Historians treat it as one of the most important early inscriptions in the country.

One passage often gets special attention. Scholars commonly read it as saying that Kharavela brought back a sacred Jain image. According to this reading, an earlier king of Magadha had carried it away from Kalinga. Magadha was the powerful kingdom to the north, in what is now Bihar. Not every word of the inscription is easy to read today. The stone is weathered, and experts still debate some lines. But the core picture is clear: a king who was a patron of the Jain faith, proud of his land.

Now walk to the largest and most elaborate cave on Udayagiri. This is Rani Gumpha, the Queen's Cave. It has two storeys, with rows of cells opening onto verandas, arranged around an open courtyard. Stand back and look at the long carved bands above the doorways. These friezes are crowded with figures — people, animals, trees, and scenes of movement. Some panels seem to show processions, music, or a hunt. The carving is lively and detailed. These are people in motion, not stiff symbols.

Here is a detail many visitors walk straight past. The name Rani Gumpha is a later, popular name. It does not come from an ancient record. Many cave names here work this way. Local people gave them names based on what they saw. That makes the next caves easy to remember. Find Ganesha Gumpha, where two carved elephants stand guard at the entrance. The cave takes its name from images of Ganesha, the elephant-headed Hindu god. Those images were added much later, long after the Jain monks.

Then comes the cave that children and photographers both love. Bagha Gumpha, the Tiger Cave, has an entrance carved as the open jaws of a huge tiger. The upper lip curves over the doorway. You can see the shape of the teeth. To go inside, you walk into its mouth. It is a playful, surprising piece of design. It is also a reminder that these monks and their patrons had a sense of imagination, not only of discipline.

Cross the road now to Khandagiri. The climb here is steeper, with stone steps leading up the hillside. The caves on this side are generally simpler. But look closely at Ananta Gumpha. Over its arched doorways, carved serpents curl along the stone. You may also find animals and other figures in the panels. Near the summit stands a Jain temple. It was built much later than the caves, and it shows that worship continues on this hill. Pilgrims still come here.

While you walk, notice the living sounds around you. Monkeys move along the ledges and trees, watching people with open interest. Birds call from the scrub. Vendors near the entrance sell snacks, coconuts and small souvenirs. Families climb together, and school groups shout to each other from cave to cave. The place is protected by the Archaeological Survey of India. Yet it does not feel sealed off. It feels like a part of the city's ordinary weekend life.

From the higher terraces, look out towards Bhubaneswar. The city is famous for its Hindu temples, many of them built centuries after these caves. Here you stand at a much older layer of its story. Before many of those temple towers rose, monks were sitting in these small, cool rooms. They were listening to the rain on the rock above them. The two faiths, and later others, have shared this landscape for a very long time.

Before you leave, choose one doorway and stand in front of it for a moment. Look at the edge of the opening. You may see small marks where tools once struck the stone. Think of the person who held that tool. Then step back into the light. Feel the sandstone warm under your shoes, hear the monkeys in the branches, and watch the shadows slowly cross the hill of sunrise.