All is possible when emptiness is possible.
Nothing is possible when emptiness is impossible.
—Nagarjuna
Sometimes, one thing leads to another.
When Sabyasachi Mukherjee, Director General of the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, invited me to curate a conference on Nalanda, the idea of “Thinking Nalanda” began to take shape.
As I immersed myself in the subject, Nalanda revealed itself as far more than a stupa, monastery, or vihara. It emerged as a laboratory of learning—an ancient ecosystem where ideas were generated, tested, and transmitted. This “laboratory” was embedded within a larger intellectual geography. Located in ancient Magadha, the region was alive with philosophical inquiry and spiritual intensity, shaped by the presence of Gautama Buddha and Mahavira, and enriched by scholars such as Aryabhata and Dharmakirti. Nagarjuna, through the Madhyamaka tradition, played a pivotal role in shaping its intellectual foundations.
Nalanda became a confluence where Mahayana, Theravada, and Vajrayana traditions intersected, giving rise to a deeply interdisciplinary culture of dialogue. It was not a singular institution but part of a wider network of knowledge systems that coexisted and engaged with one another.
This understanding deepened through the exhibition Networks of the Past at the museum, which concluded by juxtaposing Nalanda with the Library of Alexandria—two great repositories of knowledge. Yet, Nalanda could not be confined to its manuscripts alone.
At the conference’s conclusion, I visited the site of Nalanda Mahavihara, where only about 40 per cent of the complex has been excavated. Walking through its ruins, I began to grasp the magnitude of what once existed: a fully residential university founded in the 5th century under Kumaragupta I, which thrived for nearly 800 years.
The red-brick remains—viharas, stupas, chaityas, kitchens, and living quarters—spoke of a vibrant academic life that once housed around 10,000 students and 2,000 teachers. Scholars travelled from across Asia—from China and Korea to Tibet and Southeast Asia. Among them, Xuanzang left the most detailed accounts, carrying hundreds of manuscripts back to China.
Nalanda was not just a centre of learning; it was a global node of intellectual exchange.
What the ruins revealed most profoundly was the seamless integration of life and learning. The architecture was both functional and pedagogical, creating an environment where intellectual pursuit, daily rhythms, and ecological awareness were deeply intertwined. Knowledge here was not merely studied—it was lived.
From the ruins, I travelled to the modern Nalanda University in Rajgir, established through a global initiative envisioned by APJ Abdul Kalam in 2006, supported by the East Asia Summit, and formalised through the Nalanda University Act in 2010. Developed between 2017 and 2023 with support from the Bihar government under Nitish Kumar, it represents a contemporary reimagining of an ancient idea.
Here, Vice Chancellor Sachin Chaturvedi articulated a vision that blends reconstruction with reinvention.
The campus, designed by Pritzker Prize-winning architect BV Doshi, does not replicate the past but interprets it. Organised around Kamal Sagar, a central water body inspired by temple-town planning, it places water at both the ecological and symbolic core. Pathways aligned to the cardinal directions divide the campus into quadrants, with the library at their intersection—positioning knowledge at the heart of the site.
Architectural elements such as verandah-like buffer spaces, brick corbel forms, and the presence of the Bodhi tree extend this dialogue with tradition.
At the same time, the campus is deeply future-oriented. Spread across a vast landscape, it is designed as a net-zero campus with integrated water harvesting and energy generation. Passive cooling, thermal mass, natural ventilation, and solar systems reduce energy consumption, while restricted vehicular movement encourages a walkable environment.
The landscape itself—interconnected lakes and water systems—regulates the microclimate while echoing ancient ecological wisdom.
Even its structural logic reflects both resilience and context. Located in a high seismic zone, the buildings use thick walls inspired by traditional construction. High groundwater levels are managed through pile foundations, while excavated earth has been transformed into water bodies that support climate regulation and aquaculture.
What emerges is a campus that thoughtfully converges sustainability, intellectual tradition, and contemporary design.
Nalanda today stands not as a monument to the past, but as a living framework—one that invites us to rethink education, knowledge systems, and coexistence in a shared global future.