Nepal 2025, Day Four (III: Kapilvastu)

Should Kapilvastu (or Kapilavatthu in Pāli) even be considered part of a Buddhist pilgrimage itinerary? It’s a fair question. This wasn’t where the Buddha attained enlightenment, nor where he delivered his first sermon. But this was where it all began. The early life of Prince Siddhartha, cocooned within the walls of a royal palace built by his father, King Suddhodana, ruler of the ancient Shakya kingdom. The capital of the Shakyas was Kapilvastu, and Suddhodana’s sole ambition was to groom his son to succeed him. For 29 years, the king managed to ensure that Siddhartha lived a cocooned life untouched by suffering and pain.

At the time of Siddhartha’s birth, sages had foretold a dual destiny: the child would either become a great monarch or a fully enlightened Buddha. Suddhodana, naturally, desired the former. He carefully shielded the young prince from life’s harsh realities by surrounding him with pleasure and luxury, forbidding any exposure to old age, illness, death or renunciation. The royal palace was less a home than a golden cage, meant to keep the boy’s thoughts firmly within the world.

But fate had other ideas. Siddhartha eventually saw what his father had tried so hard to hide: the Four Sights. In one fateful day, he came across an old man, a sick person, a corpse and an ascetic. From that moment, his course was set. He made the Great Renunciation, leaving behind palace life and family in search of truth. It was a deeply sorrowful moment for King Suddhodana. Yet years later, after Siddhartha attained enlightenment and became the Buddha, he returned to Kapilvastu not as a son or prince, but as a teacher. Suddhodana came to accept his son’s path. It is said that he listened to the Buddha’s teachings, and eventually, the king himself attained Arahantship. So Kapilvastu is not merely a historical site but also part of the spiritual journey.

And so there we were, standing on what remains of King Suddhodana’s palace on a late afternoon where shadows were already thrown long on the ground. Not much is seen today beyond the foundation stones, but even these are enough to give a sense of its scale. From the western entrance, now the designated way into the ruins, to the eastern gate, I’d estimate the stretch to be some 400 metres across. I’ve read elsewhere that the northern and southern ends span about 500 metres. Therefore, roughly 50 acres in all. A sizeable complex. Signboards around the site helped us picture what once stood here: fortified walls, gates, courtyards, residential quarters, even administrative buildings and gardens.

A local lad, perhaps 16 years old, eagerly offered to guide us around. With youthful energy and a certain pride in his step, he led us through the ruins, pointing out where the royal baths once stood, the living quarters of the Shakya nobility, and even the old stables where Siddhartha’s horse, Kanthaka, was kept. The walk was long and meandering, but there was something stirring about tracing those ancient stone outlines with the boy’s commentary in our ears.

Eventually, we reached the eastern gate. With no small amount of drama, the boy paused and told us, “This is where Siddhartha left the palace. This is the path he took when he renounced the world.” And so, we followed in silence through the gate and onto the dusty road beyond. A quiet moment for reflection but suddenly, we were brought back to reality when a motorcycle whizzed past us. Nevertheless, that moment pressed itself deeply into the heart. The past may have faded into earth and stone, but its echoes still linger.