“Let’s get out of here quickly!” The panting Buddhist monk raced towards his Brahmin friend. “Panditji, stop that prayer and run! Bakhtiyar Khilji’s army is approaching! Nalanda, our Nalanda, will be attacked!” With that, the monk vanished, heading for the safety of Tibet.
The attack on Nalanda University is one of the darkest chapters in India’s history. The destruction was not just of bricks and mortar but of centuries of Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain knowledge, carefully preserved in the vast halls of this great center of learning. It is said that Nalanda housed a wealth of books so immense that it took months to burn them completely. Yet, the flames of Nalanda’s destruction did not fade with the fire. They continued to burn—burning with the knowledge lost, burning with the misery of Bihar’s impoverished future. Even today, can we not feel the embers of Nalanda’s destruction, as Bihar struggles with unemployment and casteism, the echoes of the Mahavihara’s once-glorious teachings still haunting the region?
In a just world, the first IITs, AIIMS, and other centers of excellence should have risen from the ruins of Nalanda after India’s independence. But how could the first Prime Minister of India, who failed to attend the Somnath temple’s inauguration, understand the importance of rebuilding the knowledge that once flourished here?
The man who understood the significance of Nalanda’s revival was none other than the visionary Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, our former President. For him, the restoration of Nalanda wasn’t just a symbolic gesture; it was a mission. His dream to see Nalanda resurrected was the first step in reversing centuries of neglect. In 2010, Parliament took a step in the right direction by recognizing Nalanda University as a beacon of global learning. Yet, under the weight of government apathy, it struggled. In 2014, a mere 20 students enrolled, despite the university’s historical significance. How could one call it restored when there were no buildings to house the knowledge?
In 2017, construction began. And now, the doors of Nalanda University have opened once more. There is no doubt that Nalanda, with its vast legacy, will once again mark its presence on the world stage. It will shine with the brilliance that once emanated from its halls. Even before Khilji’s attack, Nalanda faced two brutal invasions—by the Hun and Gaud kings. Yet, resilient as ever, it was rebuilt time and again. But today, the credit for Nalanda’s fourth revival belongs to two leaders: Abdul Kalam, who revived its dream, and Narendra Modi, who brought it to fruition.
Yet, as we celebrate the rebirth of Nalanda, a soft, weary voice calls from the northwest, “I am older than Nalanda, but my cries have fallen on deaf ears.” Taxila—the ancient university of Chanakya—now lies in what is today Pakistan. What hope is there for it to rise to its former glory? Can it ever reach its destiny, or must we leave it to the passage of time? Kaalai Tasmai Namah.
The tragedy of Nalanda is not merely a history lesson; it is a present-day reflection of our lost potential. The revival of Nalanda is not an isolated victory—it is a reminder of the countless forgotten centers of knowledge and culture across our land. As we rebuild Nalanda, let us not forget the echoes of other voices—like Taxila—that still cry out from the corners of history. Will we heed them, or will they too be lost to the flames of time?
