History · Ch 4 — Thinkers, Beliefs and Buildings — Cultural Developments
A Glimpse of Sanchi
A Glimpse of Sanchi
This chapter traces developments across roughly a thousand years, following thinkers who tried to make sense of the world they lived in. Their ideas survive today both as oral traditions that were later written down and as beliefs expressed through architecture and sculpture — a sign of how deeply these thinkers shaped the generations that came after them. The chapter concentrates on Buddhism, but this tradition never grew in isolation: it was one voice among several, engaged in ongoing debate and dialogue with rival schools of thought. To reconstruct this world of ideas, historians draw on a wide range of evidence — Buddhist, Jaina and Brahmanical texts, together with an extensive body of material remains, including monuments and inscriptions. Among the best-preserved of these monuments is the stupa at Sanchi, which is the central focus of this chapter.
The story of Sanchi begins not with the Buddha, but with a nineteenth-century ruler. Shahjehan Begum, the Nawab of Bhopal, wrote in 1876 about visiting the site: a small village called Kanakhera, about twenty miles north-east of Bhopal, where stone sculptures, statues of the Buddha, and an ancient gateway lay among ruins. She noted that European gentlemen, especially Major Alexander Cunningham, had taken great interest — making drawings, deciphering inscriptions, and even boring shafts into the domes.
European fascination with Sanchi nearly cost India its heritage. The French asked Shahjehan Begum for permission to take away the best-preserved eastern gateway to display in a museum in France. Some Englishmen wanted to do the same. Fortunately, both were satisfied with carefully prepared plaster-cast copies, and the original remained at the site, part of the Bhopal state.
The rulers of Bhopal — Shahjehan Begum and her successor Sultan Jehan Begum — actively funded the preservation of the ancient site. Sultan Jehan paid for the museum built there, the guesthouse where archaeologist John Marshall lived and wrote, and even the publication of Marshall's important volumes on Sanchi. Marshall dedicated those volumes to her. The survival of the stupa complex, then, is due to wise decisions and good luck — escaping the attention of railway contractors, builders, and those who would have carried away finds to European museums.
Today, Sanchi stands as one of the most important Buddhist centres. Its discovery has vastly transformed our understanding of early Buddhism. It also testifies to the successful restoration and preservation of a key archaeological site by the Archaeological Survey of India.
If you travel from Delhi to Bhopal by train, you can see the majestic stupa complex on top of a hill, crowning it. The guard will stop the train at the little station of Sanchi for two minutes — enough time to get down. Climbing the hill, you see a complex of structures: a large mound, other monuments, and a temple built in the fifth century.
This raises several questions. What is the significance of this monument? Why was the mound built and what did it contain? Why is there a stone railing around it? Who built the complex or paid for its construction? When was it "discovered"? To answer these, we must combine information from texts, sculpture, architecture, and inscriptions — a fascinating story that begins with the background of the early Buddhist tradition.
Figure 4.1 shows a carved stone panel from the Sanchi stupa complex. It is a piece of early Buddhist sculpture, the kind that first caught the attention of European visitors in the nineteenth century. The panel is not a photograph of the whole site; it is a close-up of one of the many narrative reliefs that decorate the gateways (toranas) and railings of the Great Stupa.
The carving depicts a scene from the life of the Buddha or a Jataka story (a tale of one of his previous births). Because early Buddhist art avoided showing the Buddha in human form, he is represented symbolically. In this panel, you would typically see symbols like an empty throne, a pair of footprints, a bodhi tree, or a wheel (the dharma chakra). The figures around these symbols are human — monks, lay worshippers, or celestial beings — shown in poses of devotion, often with folded hands or offering flowers. The style is lively and naturalistic: the bodies are rounded, the drapery flows softly, and the faces are expressive. The background is filled with details like trees, animals, or architectural elements, giving a sense of a busy, sacred space.
What this panel teaches is that Sanchi was not just a mound of brick and stone; it was a living centre of storytelling and devotion. The sculpture was meant to be read by pilgrims walking around the stupa in a clockwise direction (pradakshina). Each panel reinforced the teachings of the Buddha and the ideal of the path to enlightenment. The fact that such panels survived — and that nineteenth-century Europeans wanted to take them away — shows how highly valued they were, both as art and as historical evidence. The panel is a direct link to the vibrant visual culture of early Buddhism, where faith, art, and architecture were inseparable.
Figure 4.2 is a portrait of Shahjehan Begum, the Nawab of Bhopal who ruled from 1868 to 1901. The image shows her in formal attire, likely as a seated or standing figure in a traditional courtly pose. She is the central subject of the photograph or painting — there are no other people, objects, or architectural elements in the frame. The caption identifies her by name and title, and the surrounding textbook text explains her role in the preservation of the Sanchi stupa.
What this figure teaches is a crucial point about the survival of ancient monuments: it was not just archaeologists or colonial officials who saved Sanchi, but also Indian rulers. Shahjehan Begum and her successor, Sultan Jehan Begum, provided the money that allowed the site to be preserved in situ — meaning the original structures stayed where they were, rather than being dismantled and shipped to museums in Europe. The text notes that the French had sought permission to take away the eastern gateway, and some Englishmen wanted to do the same, but both were satisfied with plaster-cast copies. The Begum’s funding made this possible.
The portrait thus represents a specific historical actor whose decisions had material consequences. Without her financial support — for the museum, the guesthouse where John Marshall lived and wrote, and the publication of his volumes — the Sanchi stupa complex might not have survived intact. The figure reminds us that preservation is a political and economic act, not just a scholarly one.
The photograph shows the Great Stupa at Sanchi as it appears today, restored and preserved, standing on a hilltop. The central feature is the large, hemispherical mound (the anda), which is the main stupa itself. It is crowned by a square railing (the harmika) and a triple umbrella (the chhatri), both symbolic of the Buddha’s presence and his enlightenment. Around the base of the mound runs a stone railing (vedika), and at ground level there is a circular stone pathway for ritual circumambulation (pradakshina). The four cardinal directions each have a tall, elaborately carved stone gateway (torana), though the photograph may show only one or two of these clearly, depending on the angle.
In the background, the hill slopes away, and you can see other structures that are part of the Sanchi complex: a small fifth-century temple (Temple 17) and the remains of other stupas and monastic buildings. The entire complex is set against the sky, giving a sense of its commanding position. The caption “The Great Stupa at Sanchi” refers specifically to Stupa 1, the largest and most famous monument at the site.
What this figure teaches is that Sanchi is not just a single monument but a living archaeological landscape. The stupa’s hemispherical shape, the stone railing, and the gateways all reflect the early Buddhist tradition of enshrining relics (in this case, relics of the Buddha or his disciples) and creating a sacred space for worship. The fact that the gateways are carved with scenes from the Buddha’s life and Jataka tales shows how art and architecture were used to communicate Buddhist teachings to a largely non-literate population. The photograph also highlights the successful preservation of the site, thanks to the efforts of the Bhopal rulers and the Archaeological Survey of India — a point the textbook text emphasises. Seeing the stupa on its hilltop, you understand why it was a landmark for travellers and why it remains a key source for understanding early Buddhism.