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 About 1,700 years ago, Nagarjunakonda ("Hill of Nagarjuna") flourished as a city and a great religious and educational center of Brahmanism and Buddhism in the modern state of Andhra Pradesh, south India. Once called Vijayapuri ("City of Victory"), after king Vijaya Satakarni of the Satavahana dynasty, it later became the capital of the Ikshvaku dynasty (225--325 CE), falling into terminal decline after the demise of the last Ikshvaku king.
 Its modern name derives from one of its illustrious citizens, Nagarjuna, a Buddhist monk-philosopher and founder of the Madhyamika ("Middle Path") school, who lived between 150-250 CE (est.). His exposition on the concept of shunyata("emptiness") is regarded as an intellectual and spiritual achievement of the highest order. Recognized
as a patriarch by several later Buddhist schools, his
two basic works are Madhyamika Karika and
Vigrahavyavartani, both critical analyses of views
about the origin of existence, the means of knowledge,
and the nature of reality. *
The ancient township was discovered in 1926 by an Indian
teacher, S Venkataramayya. Much of it is now submerged
under the third largest manmade lake caused by the
Nagarjuna Sagar
dam across river Krishna. Archaeological finds
between 1926-60 helped establish a cultural sequence
from early stone age to Medieval times. More than 130
sites over 24 sq. kms were excavated and some of the
structures were moved and reconstructed on what is now
an island on the lake and on its eastern bank at Anupu
(much like saving Abu Simbel from the Aswan Dam project
in Egypt).
 From Vijayawada, it took us the better part of a morning -- three bus rides and an auto-rickshaw -- to reach the nearest village with tourist facilities. The buses stopped in towns and villages whose names were displayed only in Telugu (as in parts of Tamil Nadu, Hindi and English are of limited help to travelers here). We heard of a congregation to take place in a week at nearby Amaravati, comprising thousands of Tibetan monks led by the Dalai Lama. After years of drought, the monsoon this year had been good; we saw cotton and pepper fields in a region still infamous for its depleted water tables and farmers escaping en masse to Maharashtra, or committing suicide to be rid of their debts. A few days earlier, we were close to the massive Krishna and Godavari river deltas, and it struck me that all that water could be harnessed and put to good use here. Why are large rivers allowed to empty into the ocean nearby when they can bring real relief to these parts? But in India, such questions, as usual, are a dime a dozen.
 Most
visitors to Nagarjunakonda arrive from Hyderabad on
weekend day trips. Highlights for them seem to be the
scenic ferry ride across the lake to the island and a
picnic under a shady spot. It is not clear how much of
the ancient city still lies buried under water but the
ruins of ancient stupas, monasteries, and burial sites,
now strewn about the island, make for a pleasant yet
haunting excursion. There is even a spot where the
founder of the Ikshvaku dynasty performed the Vedic
horse sacrifice, Ashvamedha. A reconstructed
bathing ghat is a fitting place to end the visit and
ponder the lives of people who once inhabited these
parts.
A
museum on the island holds many exquisite
sculptures, artifacts, and archaeological data on the
ancient city. But here too, as usual, the Archaeological
Survey of India (ASI) prohibits photography of works
with long expired copyright claims. Why ? Nobody
ever has a good answer. "Orders from above" is the most
common. "Apply for a permit in Delhi," they say. If this
prohibition isn't evidence of a bureaucratic mind, I
don't know what is. These finds, excavated with taxpayer
money, are not only the inheritance of all Indians but
of all humanity, meant to be photographed, videotaped,
and marveled at. As usual, I attempted to sneak in a few
photos but an overzealous guard, sensing my intent,
followed me around. Nagarjuna would surely have
disapproved.
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