Nalanda Mahavihara

Feel the brick under your shoes. It is warm, slightly rough, and the colour of dried terracotta. All around you, low walls rise in neat, deliberate lines. Green lawns run between them. Birds call from the trees at the edge of the site, and somewhere a guide is speaking softly to a small group. It is quiet here — far quieter than this place would have been when it was full of voices, debate, and chanting.

You are standing in the ruins of Nalanda Mahavihara, a short drive from the town of Bihar Sharif. A mahavihara means a great monastery. But this was more than a place of prayer. For centuries, Nalanda was one of the most important centres of learning in Asia. Monks and students came here to study Buddhist philosophy, logic, grammar, medicine, and more. Many historians describe it as one of the earliest residential universities in the world.

The story usually begins in the fifth century of the common era, under the Gupta kings, a dynasty that ruled much of northern India. Royal gifts helped build and support the first great monasteries. Later rulers kept adding to them. The Pala kings of Bengal and Bihar, who were strong patrons of Buddhism, supported Nalanda for several hundred more years. What you see today is not one building. It is layer upon layer of building, across many generations.

Look at the layout as you walk. It follows a clear plan. On one side stands a long row of monasteries, where monks lived and studied. Facing them, across a broad central path, stand the temples. This separation is easy to miss at first. But once you notice it, the whole site makes sense. Daily life happened on one side. Worship and ceremony happened on the other.

Step into one of the monasteries. Each one is built around an open courtyard. Small rooms line all four sides. These were the monks' cells — simple, compact spaces for sleeping and study. In many of them you can still see raised platforms of brick. Scholars believe these were beds. Some rooms also have small niches cut into the walls, likely for lamps or books. Imagine reading here by a small flame, long after dark.

Now look at the courtyards themselves. Here is a detail many visitors walk straight past. Several courtyards contain wells, and some have structures that appear to be hearths or ovens. Drains run through the brickwork to carry water away. This was a working community, with kitchens, water supply, and planning for heavy monsoon rains. The scholars here needed to eat, wash, and stay dry, just like anyone else.

Much of what we know about life at Nalanda comes from travellers. The most famous is Xuanzang, a Chinese monk who journeyed to India in the seventh century. He studied at Nalanda for some time and later wrote a detailed account of his travels. He described tall buildings, deep scholarship, and strict entrance standards. Another Chinese monk, Yijing, also studied here later in the same century and left his own records.

According to these accounts, the community was very large, with thousands of monks and teachers. Historians still discuss the exact numbers, so treat them as an impression rather than a census. What is clear is the reputation. Students came from across the Buddhist world — from China, Korea, Tibet, Central Asia, and Southeast Asia. Ideas developed here travelled outward along trade routes, and they shaped Buddhist thought far beyond India.

Now turn toward the largest structure on the temple side. It is usually called Temple Number Three, and it rises in a series of steep, stepped terraces. Climb your eyes up its sides. Archaeologists found that it was rebuilt several times, each new version built over the older one. You can still see parts of these earlier layers. Small stupas, which are rounded Buddhist shrines, sit around its base. Some carry stucco figures of the Buddha and other sacred beings.

Nalanda was also known for its library. Tradition says it filled several buildings, with poetic names such as Ratnasagara, meaning the Ocean of Jewels. Legend has it that when the monastery was attacked, the library burned for months. That detail is a popular tale, not a measured fact. But the loss itself was real. Thousands of manuscripts, copied by hand over centuries, are thought to have disappeared.

The end came around the turn of the thirteenth century. Most historians link the destruction to raiding forces from the west, often associated with the commander Bakhtiyar Khalji. By then, royal support for Buddhism in the region had already weakened. After the attack, the great monastery never recovered. Over time, earth and vegetation covered the ruins, and Nalanda became a set of mounds in the countryside.

The site returned to view in the nineteenth century. The British archaeologist Alexander Cunningham identified these mounds as Nalanda, partly by following Xuanzang's descriptions. Large-scale excavations began in the early twentieth century. Only part of the ancient complex has been uncovered, so much more may still lie under the surrounding fields. In 2016, UNESCO added the site to its World Heritage List. Across the road, a small museum displays sculptures, seals, and objects found here.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Look along one of the long rows of cells, and notice how the light falls across the old brick. Listen to the wind in the trees. People came here from very far away, on foot and by sea, to sit in rooms like these and learn. As you walk back toward the gate, look down at the worn steps. Many feet have climbed them before yours.