Nalanda University has recently made headlines, though the attention stems more from political discourse than educational. This, however, is not a political post, but focuses on the rich intellectual legacy of such institutions and their encounters with climate adversities. What kind of debates happened in these universities? How did the climate change affect the institutes? Let’s find out.
The Nalanda university was one of the greatest universities of the ancient world. The idea to revive the university was proposed by former President Dr. Abdul Kalam in 2006, Nalanda university bill was passed in 2010, and inaugurated in 2014. The New campus was inaugurated this week. It is a matter of great pride for Indians.
Nalanda, the ancient university and Buddhist monastic center, holds a rich history dating back to the time of the Buddha (6th–5th centuries BCE) and Mahavira, the founder of the Jaina religion. Pioneering scholars like Nagarjuna and Arya Deva sought wisdom there centuries prior to its formal inception of the institute. The first inauguration of the university possibly happened in the 5th century. The institution thrived during the Gupta era but faced destruction by the White Huns under Mihirkula in the 5th century—a blow paralleling the Huns’ impact on Rome, signaling a pivotal shift in Indian history.
Two millennia ago, India’s economy boomed through trade with the West. But as Western empires crumbled, Indian commerce suffered. Soon after, a severe dry spell struck in the 6th century, leading to widespread droughts and famines that continued for centuries. Brinnaradiya Purana (9th century) mentions this as Kali Yug where there was droughts and people went hungry. Merchants, like Sulaiman who visited India in 9th century, found most of India devoid of towns. Archaeological evidence corroborates this downturn; urban centers were deserted as populations shifted to agrarian lifestyles, usage of coinage declined and in places cowrie shells were being used as currency—a period aptly termed the ‘second deurbanisation phase’ by historian R S Sharma. Droughts and trade were also the reason for first de-urbanisation during the decline of Harappan civilisation. It was followed by migration from Central Asia. This was almost a déjà vu.
The climate change resulted in two India’s: one was the intellectual India restricted to the universities debating the nature of reality, other the poor India in the rural areas where Bhakti cult was taking root along with devotion to fertility goddesses like Lajjagauri and Sakhambari. The goddesses, people hoped, would bring better yield.
Venerable institutions, like Nalanda and Vikramashila, weathered adversity through the patronage of rulers like Harshavardana and the Pala dynasty of Bengal. Archaeologists can clearly identity the three phases over which Nalanda University was built. The lower layer consists of large bricks made by Kumaragupta in 5th century. It was renovated by Harshavardana using concrete in 7th century. The final phase was by the Pala kings in 9th century. The layout included six brick temples and eleven monasteries spread over an area of more than a square kilometer. A central thirty-meter-wide passage ran north-south, with temples on the west and monasteries on the east. The monasteries followed the traditional Indian design, with oblong brick structures containing cells opening onto four sides of a courtyard. Temple No. 3, the most imposing structure, was constructed in seven phases and is surrounded by votive stupas and minor shrines.
Beyond the structures, the excavations unearthed numerous sculptures and images in stone, bronze, and stucco. Among the Buddhist sculptures were representations of Buddha in different postures, Avalokitesvara, Manjuri, Tara, Prajnaparamita, Marichi, and Jambhala. Additionally, there were images of Brahmanical deities such as Vishnu, Siva-Parvati, Mahishasur-Mardini, Ganesha, and Surya. The site also yielded murals, copper plates, stone and brick inscriptions, sealings, plaques, coins, terracottas, and potteries.
Rather than direct financial aid, villages were allocated to sustain these academic sanctuaries. This practice of granting lands to temples, educational institutions, government officials, and artisans began during the waning years of the Gupta Dynasty in the 6th century. It marked the nascent phase of feudalism in India, possibly a result of climate change and droughts. Unfortunately, this would later prove to be a burden too heavy for the farmers to carry.
Nalanda, at its zenith, thrived with the backing of 200 households. It was a secular haven where scholars from diverse traditions—Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism—coexisted. They engaged in spirited debates across a spectrum of subjects: astronomy, ayurveda, Buddhism, indian philosophy, mathematics, grammar, and architecture.
It is believed that aspiring students faced a formidable Dwar Pandit guarding the entrance. Only those who could successfully answer his questions gained passage into this esteemed institution. Students from China, Japan, Korea, Mongolia, Tibet, Sri Lanka and South East Asia came here to study. Eminent scholars like Aryabhatta and Xuanzang graced its hallowed halls, both as students and teachers. Other luminaries associated with Nalanda include Vasubandhu, Dharmapala, Suvishnu, Asanga, Silabhadra, Dharmakirti, and Shantarakhshita.
Nalanda was not the only university in India. Vikramashila, founded by Pala emperor Dharmapala in the late 8th or early 9th century, emerged as a response to perceived declining scholarship quality at Nalanda. For about four centuries, Vikramashila flourished, attracting over a hundred teachers and around a thousand students. Eminent minds taught philosophy, grammar, metaphysics, Indian logic, and other disciplines. However, the most significant focus was on Buddhist tantra. Notably, Atisha Dipankara, a founder of the Sarma traditions of Tibetan Buddhism, was associated with Vikramashila.
However, economic hardships persisted. Severe droughts struck in 939-951 CE and 963-67 CE. Yet, the decisive blow came with the Turk invasions in the 12-13th century, compelling many scholars to seek refuge in Tibet.
Profound debates unfolded within these ancient centers of learning in their haydays, where scholars grappled with questions about existence, reality, and the nature of the absolute. At the heart of these debates lay the assumption of an unchanging reality, and those who opposed it.
The first rational synthesis of Upanishad was the dualism of Samkhya. The followers of Samkhya proposed a dualistic view. They posited two fundamental realities: the unchanging Purusha (kutastha) and the dynamic Prakriti (parinami). Prakriti acted independently but existed to fulfill the needs of Purusha. The illusion of the universe stems from the interaction between the two.
In contrast, Advaita (non-dualism)Vedanta rejected this dualism. According to its proponents, only Brahman—the ultimate reality—is absolute and real. The apparent changes we perceive are illusory. The individual soul (atman) is identical to Brahman, differing only in appearance. Matter, too, is an appearance—a rope mistaken for a snake in the dark. Liberation lies in discerning this distinction.
Nyaya and Vaisesika schools opposed Advaita. They held that perception and inference were the sole legitimate means of knowledge. These schools analyzed reality into five substances: earth, water, air, fire, and space. These substances were composite and divisible, and thus not ultimate reality. Nyaya-Vaisesika considered the atom (anu or paramanu) as the ultimate reality. These indivisible particles were permanent, and new phenomena emerged when they combined—be it objects, consciousness (atman), or even knowledge.
Madhyamika Buddhism rejected both extremes and chose the Middle Path. Unlike nihilism, it didn’t deny reality but challenged independent, unchanging absolutes. Madhyamika asserted that all things arose dependently, not by their inherent power. Soul (consciousness) was like fire, matter like fuel—distinct yet interdependent. Conditional truths (samvriti satya) like the heat of fire existed, but they lacked intrinsic value (Svabhava).
The ultimate truth lay in emptiness (shunyata)—the absence of self-existence (nihsvabhava). Conventional truths changed and had causal efficacy (arthakriya) due to dependent arising (pratityasamutpada). Fire’s heat, for instance, depended on multiple factors, and has no independent essence. It is our attachment to the false absolute entities like atman that leads to dogmatism and suffering. There’s no permanent, unchanging atman transmigrating across lives. Rebirth is a causal process carried by streams of consciousness, akin to lighting a new candle from an old one. The detachment from this attachment to atman leads to freedom from rebirth and pain (klesavarananivrttih).
Jainism, on the other hand accepts all philosophies attempting to know the truth as partial truth, and none completely false, akin to the blind men inferring reality by touching the elephant. They try to solve the conflict in reason by disjunctive synthesis of opposing viewpoints: all views are true, the real is conspectus of viewpoints.
One can understand the kind of philosophical heavy lifting going on in India at that time and diversity of thoughts. The strength of a civilisation lies in its ability to freely debate, and institutes like Nalanda and Vikramashila lead the way in creating the spirit of India.
There is an interesting example of how a debate should be held.
Once king Milinda asked the Nagasena if he would have more discussions with him. To that, the sage replied, ‘If you discuss as a scholar, yes. If you discuss as a king, no’. This distinction was crucial: scholars engage in logical debates where truth emerges through reasoned arguments. The loser, far from harboring anger, acknowledges their mistake. In contrast, kings often assert their views, imposing fines or punishments on dissenters. Nagasena’s wisdom prevailed, and King Milinda became his disciple. This tale underscores the value of respectful discourse and intellectual exchange in shaping civilizations.
These ancient centers of learning remain luminous beacons in the annals of history, inspiring us across time. Thousands of such debates may have been lost in the fires in Dharma Gunj, the great Nalanda library. But truth is never lost as long as there are seekers. Hope that the new Nalanda paves way for such seekers to emerge, be it from sunya or the whole.
Reference
DhavalIkar M. K. 1999. Historical Archaeology of India, Books and Books.
Murti T.R.V. 2003. The Central Philosophy of Buddhism: A Study of the Mādhyamika System. Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers
