JALAN-JALAN

2011-03-11T22:28:00.000+05:30

Lake in The Woods.

2011-02-19T14:11:00.000+05:30

A four day engagement took us to "Steel City" Salem last week. Though barely 210 kms. from Bangalore, via NH 7, Salem was a Hotplate to Bangalore's Aircooler clime, thanks to a summer that had set in early and in right earnest too. Being three quarters surrounded by high mountains does not in any way cool down this bustling industrial town ( Salem is famous for Steel,Textiles, Sago , Bauxite, Silversmithy and Mangoes). The name Salem is derived from Shailam , meaning "Mountains".

As the prospect of spending 4 days there did not seem so inviting, we headed to the nearest hills, from where we could easily come down for the two functions that needed attending.
So, to YERCAUD.

Located 1515 meters above sea-level in the Shevaroy Range of hills in the Eastern Ghats, Yercaud is a small wooded (" Kaadu") hillstation clustering around a Lake (" Yeri"), tagged as "Poor Man's Ooty ". Climate here is moderate throughout the year, neither unbearably cold in winters nor sultry in summer.
The Coffee, Cinnamon and Orange plantations created by the British in mid 19th Century were instrumental in creating the present township in the hills which had, until then, sheltered only nomadic tribes and seasonal pilgrims to the Cave Shrine at the summit. Today 66 mountainous villages come under the Yercaud Municipal Limits.

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25 minutes out of Salem city limits, we were climbing up the dark green hill range. But the woods were dry, dusty and droopy, betraying an urgent need of a good shower. Having gained some height, we could get a panoramic view of the city on one side, melding into large flat tracts of brown and russet, dotted with bald offwhite hillocks . These little hills, apparently, are the debris excavated from mines - Magnesite, Bauxite,Limestone, Iron Ore . It was a bit disconcerting that not much of green could be seen anywhere upto the hazy horizon.
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Two things made the short uphill journey , along 20 Hairpin Bends, interesting.
One : numerous, lively troops of monkeys . Always an exhilarating experience to watch their antics.
Two : the sign boards planted all along the road, in profusion. Boards cautioning against reckless driving and promoting eco-friendliness . Some were prosaic . Some waxed lyrical. Some were amusing. ( "Plastic is Drastic" !!!!) . At the 16th. Hairpin Bend, was a stunner : Red lettering that fairly barked like a stern headmistress : " You Are Given Enough Warning ". Wonder whose cheeky idea it was ! After that, the sign boards thinned out. I guess the Road Dept. just got fed up of planting cautionary notes. If anyone still wanted to drive rashly, he was welcome to commit suicide !
By the 18th. hairpin bend, the woods started looking a bit more glossy and cheerful, as the air became perceptibly nippy. Many wild shrubs were in bloom. Glorious splashes of red, orange and yellow.
This is the region where the plantation estates begin. Most still retain European names.

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There are many fancy resorts and spas in Yercaud, with more coming up. We checked into "The Shevroys" , one of the older guest houses, with huge old gnarled trees surrounding the rooms and cottages. Interestingly, a school of Hotel Management also functions within the premises and on the second day of our stay, eager students, togged up in black suits and ties were lining up for a campus recruitment drive in the Conference Centre. Other than that, the only life we kept running into in the vast compound were the dozen geese, turkeys and cockerels lording it over the common area.

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The centrally located BigLake has the mandatory boating facility,( with the inescapable swan shaped boats too !) but, no walkway around it. The lake could do with some dredging and weeding. Saw some huge machines parked at the farther end; perhaps work is in progress. In the adjoining "Deer Park", less than five deer ruminated distractedly on sparse meadows .
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Having heard about the Orchidarium run by the Horticulture Dept, we asked around for directions to it. Strangely, no on seemed to know what it was. Not the cabmen, nor the shopwallahs nor the Concierge. Dropped that plan and drove up a dirt road looking for the much touted "Ladies Seat" view point. It was a disappointment - ill kept, filthy, with a non- working telescope . We had seen better "views" from the hill road itself ! After this, we dint dare venture in the direction of the other notified View Points -" Gents Seat", "Children's Seat", "Arthur's Seat" and "Pagoda Point".
The Rose Garden, near "Ladies Seat" had innumerable rose plants, but due to the dry weather, they all looked straggly and quite forlorn. Were we visiting in the wrong time of the year ? Wonder why they did not use sprinklers ?
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At "Anna Park" , we were fooled by a huge notice board that announced close to 12 attractions including a butterfly park , musical cascade , rock garden and a Japanese Garden. No butterflies, no cascade , lots of un-gardenly rock and an abandoned project with stone lanterns, convex bridge and stubby shrubs that could have turned into a nice Japanese landscape if only the municipality had persevered. When questioned, the park keeper replied sheepishly that the park was yet to take shape, but the notice board was put up to beguile a passing politico ! And we paid Rs.10 per head to get fooled !
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The best outing was to The Shervarayan Cave Shrine, at the highest summit. The road was great, the jungle was lush and the view from the top, just stunning. The shrine is a dark, cool, narrow cave which can only be entered by crouching low. (A modern stone and brick porch has been built at its entrance). A row of Nandis lining the left side of the cave wall made us expect a Lingam at the end . But the small stone idol of Shervarayan was Vishnu. Beside him was Goddess Kaveri. These two are the guardian deities of the whole mountain range. A pleasant surprise : A Priestess , not a Priest, did the Deepa- aarati.
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Had there been time to spare, we would have visited some heritage buildings - a 19th.Century Collector Bungalow , Missionary Retreats and Planter's Lodges. A local even suggested we should visit the Montford School, because it has Star Value, having appeared in movies !
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Saw some interesting looking plants and flowers, both wild and cultivated. Among them , one flower that looked exactly like a mottled brown duckling ! Most tall trees play host to pepper vines with bunches of green pepper hanging like ornaments.
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Browsed around a tiny shop selling organic and ayurvedic cosmetics and liniments, all made locally from ingredients grown right there. Smelled sample after sample of essential oils till the nose started twitching with olfactory overload !
Home made chocolates, very similar to the ones sold in Kodaikanal and packed similarly too, are found in most shops.
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Yercaud ( the spelling still smells of British Raj !, why not 'Yerkad' ?) is a fine place to relax, walk, read and commune with Nature , breathing clean, crisp air.
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One regret was , missing the celebrated Kiliyur Falls. My companions were either unfit or just unenthusistic to undetake the cross country trek through the pebbly jungle path that leads to it. Next time, with some like minded company, hope to make it !

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Photos courtsey : Subbu, Appu.

BOROBUDUR

2011-01-21T22:04:00.000+05:30

One of the benefits of living in an industrial suburb of a small town in Indonesia was the opportunity we got to visit some very exotic sites , scattered around Central Java. One of them was BOROBUDUR .

The data about Borobudur :

A World Heritage Site .
The Largest Buddhist Stupa in the world.
" The Temple With No Inside".

Built between 740 and 852 AD, during the reign of King Samaratungga of Mataram Dynasty. Destroyed by seismic activity and abandoned around 950 AD ; swallowed by jungle and forgotten till 1814 when Stanford Raffles rediscovered the humongous rubble. Painstaking, continuous restoration by various nationalities ....
Opened for pilgrimage and tourism in 1973.

The monument is built like a stone ( lava-rock) cladding over a natural hill ( hence, "no Inside") in Central Java, not very far from the holy volcano Merapi. It is 9 tiered,(six of them square and three, circular) with stairways to ascend to each tier or terrace. It is surrounded by tropical forests , encircled by mountain ranges.

Pilgrimage consists of climbing up, level by level, doing circumambulation in each terrace. The walls of the terraces are encrusted with prodigious bas relief panels ( close to 1500 panels , extending over a total of 2 km. in all) illustrating Buddhist mythology from Karmavibhanga, Lalitavistara,Jataka,Avadana Sataka , Gandhavyuha etc .

Buddhas, Buddhas and more Buddhas are scattered all over the rampart walls , balustrades and alcoves.

The pyramidal structure is a representation of the Buddhist concept of Cosmos. The nine tiers are divided into Three Divisions representing the threefold progressive journey to The Ultimate Goal through Kamadhatu ( World of Desires), Rupa Dhatu ( World of Forms) and Arupadhatu ( The Formless World).

The pinnacle is single large stupa , the top point being 35 meters from ground level. The last three circular terraces have 72 large Buddhas sitting inside the unique , perforated bell shaped stupas. All are different, with different mudras. One Buddha is left open now, for pilgrims to touch and gain Merit.

A birds eye-view of the architecture shows the shrine to resemble a "Mandala" or "Yantra".
( Above : Birds eye view, seen in a chart in the Info.Kiosk The small 'buttons' are the perforated stupas)

My impression :

There's a word in English : "Breath taking". I experienced the cannotation of the word fully in Borobudur.
To begin with, its sheer immensity is overwhelming. It looks like some fairy tale mountain.
(Dawn !)

The first time I saw it, it was early morning . The misty, surreal, golden dawn light transformed it into an ethereal vision, an unbelievable dream rising from the lush jungles and resonating with birdsong , while all those silent, self-absorbed Buddhas surveyed the shimmering horizon with beatific calm.......Pure enchantment !
On the next visit, it was mid-day, drizzly ; and the wet relief panels, seemed alive !

Each individual figure in the panels is invested with a distinct characteristic and expression. No detail too negligible for the diligent sculptors. The painstaking labour of those ancient artisans must have been repeated by modern conservation workers who had to number and index all the discovered rubble , clean each bit carefully and then put them all together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Ascending, tier by tier, one can really feel the spirit being lifted to higher planes !

(Above: A chart hanging in the Info. Kiosk, showing the different Levels. )

( One of the lions guarding the base)

As I said, a Breathtaking Experience ! I consider myself very fortunate to have experienced the magic of Borobudur.
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For a great tour of the place, see this Unesco link :

http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/592/video

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( Photographs by husband. )

When In Rome.........

2010-12-26T17:03:00.000+05:30

Last week, i read a news bit that Italy's Ministry of Culture proposed a 60Million- Euro preservation plan to secure Rome's historical areas - something rustled up in a hurry only after the recent collapse of an ancient monument in Pompeii set the alarm bells ringing.

Its imponderable what Rome would do without its history ! History is what brings the gaping hoards and the tourist lolly in. But for all that, its surprising that the Italians do not exert themselves too much to gift wrap their treasures and vend them more energetically. Since their everyday cityscape is so enmeshed with the historical remains, the locals seem to be quite cool to the charm and romance their invaluable heritage. On my visit, I got the distinct feeling that they were quite blase' about it . They had the same "chalta hai" attitude our countrymen have here .

When in Rome,I dint feel the need to be Roman. Rome was " Indian" in character : The people there littered freely ; they plastered notices on 2000 year old walls with impunity; they exhibited atrocious traffic etiquette. They were garrulous and loud in public. Youth in public spaces were unruly. Personnel in public service counters were bored and inefficient. The suburban train had grimy seats and shattered windowpanes. There were beggars ( Albanians and Romany immigrants). And the local government took only as much care of their monuments as our own ASI does- i.e., haphazard. I felt at home ! This was a few years ago. So, I was really glad to see the above-mentioned news.

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The Pantheon ( the 1800 years old Pagan temple) fascinated me more than the Colosseum ( old name : The Flavian Amphitheatre) or the "BenHur" racetrack , Circus Maximus , did.

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At the popular and crowded Trevi Fountain, ( a lovely work of art) there were some urchins diving in to retrieve coins tossed in by starry eyed tourists. They must be making small fortunes ! But we heard that only Caritas, a Charity organisation is authorised to collect the coins , weekly, every Sunday.

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We abandoned plans of climbing the famous Spanish Steps , because it was so crawling with visitors that nothing of its design or beauty was discernable. But it was fun to window shop ( only !)nearby , in the Piazza di Spagna, where shops displayed all the famous labels I had only seen in glossy magazines.

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Did enjoy loafing around Trestevere with its quaint alleys and shops and piazza, all so very, very Italian in character. They said its also part of the unsavoury "underbelly" of the metro, but luckily, we emerged from it unmolested and with pockets unpicked.

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Other Piazzas like Il Campo, Del Popolo ( where stands the captured Egyptian obelisk of Ramases II) and Navona are great sites to walk about and soak in the Roman colour and ethos, but it was unsettling to hear that most of these have , in history, been sites of public hangings and executions.
At Bocca Della Verita, we dutifully tested ourselves, by placing our hands inside the mouth of the circular stone face of an unknown ancient god, who, according to myth, will bite off a liar's hand ! Later, we came to know that the opening was an ancient sewer grate !
The Roman Forum, guarded by the Palatine and Capitoline hills, filled me with awe about the might of Imperial Rome. Incredible, that the then SuperPower which had conquered 85% of the known world, should have had such an unbelievably small Capital nestling in a narrow valley ! North of the Forum , stands the 125 Ft. high marble colossus, Trajan's Coloumn, with a continuous spiral of bas relief running from bottom to top, most panels of which cannot be seen clearly however much one cranes one's neck ! For detailed viewing, one can go to the Roman Civilization Museum and see plaster casts of all the sections, part by part. This museum also had a nice film show educating us about Roman History. ( And no , Nero - bad boy though he was - did not fiddle when Rome burned, but actually organised relief works. )

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Though the whole city is an open air museum, it is still necessary to have a National Museum to preserve stuff which could not be left in the open. But here the word "National Museum" does not denote one building or complex, but a whole chain of institutions scattered across different locations. Tourists have to short list according to fancy. The museum on The Capitoline Hill is the world's oldest museum. Castel Sant'Angelo, another national museum, is situated along River Tiber, right across from The Vatican, at the end of a classical bridge lined by Angels. This towering cylindrical fortress, the musoleum of Hadrian, is surmounted by a dramatic bronze figure of the angel Michael , who is believed to have saved the city from Plague in the 6th. century. A magnificent building in an evocative setting. Loved it.

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It was also necessary to pick and choose from among the hundreds of Basilicas and Cathedrals. The one I was really bowled over by was San Pietro en Vincoli, with a very prosaic, uninspiring facade, but with beautiful mosaics,frescos and vaults, inside. Here sits Michelangelo's grand marble Moses.
And there were those quaint Catacombs under San Sabastian, errie place.
The mosaic works in San Paolo are remarkable - the halo around the heads of saints is made up of tiny glass pellets filled with gold dust, this gives the portraits an ethereal glow.

A pyramid in Rome ? Yes, there is one, 120 ft. tall, built in 12 BC when anything Egyptian was a great craze among Romans. It was the tomb of a wealthy man, Caius Cestius, now it is part of The Aurelian Wall , situated close to Porta San Paolo with a subway station named for it " Pyramide".

The Vittorio Emanuale II Monument, the youngest of the grand monuments of Rome, was built only in 1935 in honour of the first leader of Unified Italy and contains a Tomb to the Unknown soldiers of World War I. It kept appearing on all our outings because of its very central location and seemed impressive enough to me. But unfortunately, it is treated with some scorn by locals who call it a marble victorian Typewriter !

It was interesting to run into an Italian Cafe owner of South Indian origin, who insisted on serving us dosas and rasam , by instructing his Italian cook in detail on how to use available ingredients innovatively to produce that fare, specially for us! Though these two dishes came out like pancake and thin tomato soup in disguise, we relished the meal because it was served with so much love. At another bistro, an effusive Neapolitan chef gave us a spirited demo. of making "de orijnaal, gooood Marinara", to the accompaniment of grand, theatrical hand gestures and operatic exclamations ! An enjoyable show !

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The Hop-On-Hop-Off busline doing the archeological sites circuit had a very interesting name : Archeobus !( Right out of Flintstones ? !).

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Many places in Rome observe the weekly holiday on Mondays, which only means that one cannot enter the sites, but can very well admire the ruins peacefully from the outside, without crowds jostling about .

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A trip to Rome is not complete without a visit to The Vatican. But then , the Vatican is another country.........meriting another post.

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(Our trusty Minolta got into a funk during the trip and we had to buy a small, disposable, plastic and cardboard camera ( just a shade larger than a film roll) to grab a few keepsake images !)

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We tossed coins into the Trevi Fountain , with full faith in the urban legend that that ritual would take us back to Rome someday. Well........ Still waiting ! Would love to visit again !

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Doing-Nothing in Kodaikanal

2010-12-22T22:40:00.000+05:30

When we go to Kodaikanal, we do nothing.
We like Doing- Nothing in Kodai.
So, we usually choose to go there in a season when 'doing nothing' is fun. The Xmas Season.
Its merry to bundle up in woollies and go and sit among some Idli-Poo ( "Idli Flowers "= white hydrangea) patches and watch our conversation emerge as visible speech bubbles of condensation in the heavy , chilled air.
Its nice not to have to jostle with holidaying busloads of excited tourists in the Botanical Gardens ; Its nice to watch the hide and seek game the Pillar Rocks play ( now-you-see-it-now-you-don't) ; its nice to hog the road along Bear Shola without fear of traffic.

Its invigorating to explore mud lanes and "cuttings" breaking off the tar road and leading into clumps of houses , some perched on wonky ledges, some lurching over slopes.
Its equally exciting to walk into unknown thickets of skyscraper trees and gather a bagful of perfectly sculpted pine cones.
And to admire wild flowers.
And to spy on insects.
And to discover lichens.
And to smell aromatic plants ( this one, above, smelt like rosemary).
And to get a scare when a cow's head appears without announcement, suddenly out of the fog.
The Xmas before last, son and I wandered into a small hillock of undulating terrain, " enclosed" by crumbly bits of an old compound wall in a region we are not very familiar with. At the summit stood an old church, partially hidden by trees. Quite abandoned. Gloomy looking. Total silence. A grubby wooden signboard said "German Church". Had never seen this church before, though we usually make many trips to town for provisions along the road that skirts the mound. As we ambled up towards the building , a heavy cloud of mist descended on it and suddenly, it did not look exploration-worthy at all. In fact, it started looking sinister. So, we quietly retreated by the slope behind it only to discover a huge wooden bellhouse with an imprisoned bell standing at the bottom of the 'estate' wearing an equally sinister look. Darkening clouds and the unfamiliar path beyond the crumbly wall din't cheer us at all. Forgot flowers, lichens, insects et al and hurried towards the faint sound of cow- bells that signified civilization. ( But din't forget to get these two snaps.)

"Doing Nothing" is done best in The Silent Forest. It is so truly, gloriously, deafeningly SILENT that you can hear the rustle of a pine needle under the hop of a stick insect. Here you can sit and day-dream , day-dream and day-dream yourself into a trance.
A pity we are not going there this season. So, just remembered the joys of the Christmas Past !

Happy X'mas . Peace on Earth & Goodwill to all.

(Photos by Son, Guhan).

A Trailblazer Monument

2010-12-14T21:23:00.000+05:30

South India is a treasure trove of temple architecture. The Dravida Style is famed far and wide for the sheer grandeur of plan and workmanship. The first major works of that style were initiated by the Pallavas in the 8th. century.
Hindu Temples , originally were simple shrines of wood and compacted earth, while it was the Jainas and Buddhists who thought of cutting into rock faces to make their Viharas. During the Hindu Rennaissance period, many of these Viharas were converted into Brahminical temples. Inspired by these durable structures, free standing Rock Cut temples were experimented first by the Pallavas , Mamallapuram being a showpiece of their skill. Transition from rock-cut to regular, Structured Temples ( ie, made of assembled stone parts) was natural and organic progression, especially when north of Kanchi, (in Kalinga in particular), the Nagara style of temple building was blossoming in full strength.

Pallava Narasimha Varman II ( aka Rajasimhan) , had a magnificent structured temple built in his capital Kanchi, in the early 8th. Century, a " First" which became a prototype for other ambitious projects, most notably The Brihadeeshwara in Thanjavur and The Virupaksha in Pattadakal. This is the KAILASANATHAR kovil . Its old Tamil name, Kacchipettu Periya ThiruKattrali meaning, "The Big Stone Shrine of Kanchi " points to the fact that it was an architectural novelty. It is believed that Dravida style temple building activity took off in a big way in the South, only after this Pallava edifice rose up. Design ideas like its broad pyramidal Gopuram, pilastered walls, conical Shikaras are considered the fore runners of the massive multitiered pagodas and prakaras fashioned by the later Pandyas , Chozhas and Nayakas. The perimeter wall enclosing the complex is also a "first".
Kanchipuram , a small city, is fairly bursting at its seams with temples and religious activities divided among its Vishnu Kanchi , Shiva Kanchi and Jaina Kanchi quarters . But far away from the maddening and boisterous pilgrim throngs, on the quiet outskirts lies the oldest and most magnificent of all kanchi-temples : The Kailasanathar. Only art lovers and curious tourists come to marvel at this treasure house of ancient art ; no worshippers in this ASI ProtectedMonument (except, perhaps on Shivaratri day). No entry after 6pm.

Though not immense , its fortress like layout with tightly packed corridors and sculpted niches just overwhelms. Constructed from fragile sandstone and limestone blocks, it has withstood the elements fairly well. Some age- worn parts have been sanded , cemented over and white washed by the ASI , which in my opinion, could have done with more feeling for the original design and some traditional artistry.
But , never mind, at least it is being taken care of.
The only thing that could not be saved was the fresco work. Done in vegetable dyes, the paintings which must have once been jewel like, can now be imagined only from the small shreds and scraps that remain in some sheltered niches.

The sculptures are awesome. Not only the multitude of life sized Yaalis, but also the varied mythological forms of Shiva ( around 64) are perfect in form and symmetry. The Garbagriha , housing a huge granite lingam cut with longitudinal facets , is open only during the short simple puja conducted once a day by the lone priest.

A languid Nandi is placed quite a distance away from the entrance of the temple, placidly watching this jewel of ancient art, across a nicely trimmed grass meadow.
No one , with even with a rudimentary interest in Indian art and iconography, can come away unmoved by the magnificence of The Kailasanathar Kovil.

( Photos by Son)

Widowvan.

2010-12-07T11:15:00.000+05:30

Last Week, The Guild of Service ( an NGO) released the result of a survey on the widows of Vrindavan. Reading it depressed me, the feeling compounded by the resurfacing of some memories I had strenuously tried to exterminate.

Travel does not always take one to enchanting places. There are visits that disappoint too and a few that fall flat . Yet , I have never really regretted visiting any of the places I ever have. Except one, because of the bitter after taste it left. Vrindavan. I wish I had never gone there.

"The Forest of Brinda "( The Holy Basil) is where the Divine Brat Krishna played out his leelas, say our Myths. A land of Peacocks, parrots and deer, of gardens in perpetual bloom, of perfumed breeze and sparkling streams, of blissful people enjoying blessed lives.............
Ofcourse, when I finally did visit Vrindavan, those rose-tinted glasses of childhood fantasy were not on. One was pragmatic enough to assimilate the fact that Krishna's fabled playground lies today in a chronically ill-administered state, situated in the underdeveloped cow-belt of modern India. So, pot-holed roads, uncleared garbage, long power outages, polluted water bodies and ramshackle urban slums were all expected - and hence, unremarked upon. The only thing I had not expected was the huge population of the "Maas " or widows . It was disconcerting to see them , vacant- eyed and hope-less, strewn about everywhere.

We kept our attention on the temples . There are hundreds of temples in Vrindavan. From un-datable riverside shrines to glitzy, dollar-rich Krishna- themed fairylands. We did our list : The Madana Mohana , The Banke Bihari , The Jaipur Govindaji, The Rangaji etc. There was architectural beauty to be admired, history to be learnt, myths to be revised. Yet, no uplifting feeling, because one kept seeing a Maa at every step and getting distressed.

Right from the time of our arrival in town, a self appointed guide had latched on to us, who said he was a sevak not looking for money, but only guiding us, athithis, as a service to god. And he temple-hopped with us , with his incessant "Radhe-Radhe" exclamations.
Around 3pm, he insisted that we go to the"Most famous, Most ancient, Most Holy Mutt"and get blessed before they closed for the day. So we followed him on foot, through a warren of suffocatingly narrow and silent alleys, lined by gray and grimy old dwellings. There was no sign of any Mutt or pilgrims. Just the stray cow and dog. AND, ghostly , white shrouded wraiths darting in and out of the gaping doorways or peering down from crumbling balconies. No voices. No sound. And no face distinguishable under the widow's -hoods. It was eerie and socked a clammy feeling into my gut.

The sevak entered a largish house which din't look anything like an ancient, holy or famous Mutt. The walls, floors and ceiling of the whole place were inlaid with white marble tiles inscribed with names , addresses and amounts. An old Priest welcomed us warmly, seated us on mats in front of a dusty tableaux of 3 wooden effigies ( Krishna, Radha and Unknown ), served us camphor scented water with sweetened poha and made polite enquiries about us. Then, after a short sermon about how blessed 7 generations of our bloodline (both ascending and descending) were going to be, he caught hold of my husband's hands, placed them on a coconut beside a lamp, mumbled some mantras and poured water on them, catching the outflow in his own hand. Only the last line of the mantra was intelligible : It was a promise " made in witness of Ishwar and Agni", to give a Daan ( of a very specific amount ) to the Mutt . We were had ! There was nothing we could do but pay up, because our sense of Dharma and basic decency prevented us from breaching a promise to give , albeit made inadvertently or under trickery.

In retrospect, it seems very funny and surprising that we hadn't said a word throughout this little drama. We had been remarkably gullible/stupid and the Priest, remarkably sly. Of course, we had decided that morning itself, to donate our mite ( certainly not that high amount) towards some "anna-daanam" scheme for widows, in any of the temples.But to have been coerced into donating was totally another thing. Though the priest said 12% of the amount would go towards God's puja and 88% to the needy widows, his credentials seemed dubious.
(He issued a spot receipt for the amount, ( less 10 rupees, because of his belief that a rounded figure denotes a finality, whereas the act of charity should continue forever! ) , promising to courier to us the official one, along with prasad from a personalised puja . Unsurprisingly, none was received. And all our subsequent enquiries about the alleged charitable trust yielded no leads. The Mutt was pure fiction. I pray that at least 100 rupees from the amount we paid went to some deserving mouth. How many such sham outfits exploit the name of widows to make money, we'll never know.)

Shaken by this episode, we abandoned all our pending plans for the day and headed back to our hotel room in Agra. And I kept seeing dozens of those shrouded apparitions - faceless, despondent, wasted - everywhere in that dreary town as we drove out of it.
The same year as we visited, The Ministry for Women and Child development announced a plan for the rehabilitation of the destitute widows of Vrindavan. It remains, still, on paper.

And now come these stats from the report put out by The Guild of Service :

There are 21,000 widows in Vrindavan.
Only 10%-12% of them have any kind of regular financial support ( from The Destitute Widow's Pensions or Charitable Institutions)
A disconcertingly huge number live on streets, with no access to toilets.
Most survive by singing bhajans for food.
Many resort to begging or prostituition.
Few have any contact with family. In fact,most were thrown into this dump-yard by family. Only a handful come here voluntarily.
The majority fear physical and sexual harrassment.

I wish I had never visited Vrindavan. I did not want to discover, first hand, what a rotten establishment we have, bureaucratic/ Religious, that tolerates/sanctions the treatment of women as garbage.

A Garden from Memoryland

2010-11-20T19:23:00.000+05:30

Old Mysore was full of parks and gardens. And Nishat Bagh was one of the most beautiful gardens in town. It is frozen in my memory like a beautiful Renaissance painting.

Situated next to the Hardinge Circle , this ( approx.) 10 acre lung space was lush, cool and beautifully laid out. The huge, sprawling rain trees there seemed more than a century old. And the cobbled avenue running from one entrance to the middle of the park was lined with two straight rows of magnificent palm trees which gave it such a regal, ceremonial look. Small fountains and old fashioned wrought iron lamp posts dotted the emerald spread of lawns.

And best of all, the park boasted the loveliest Gazebo in the whole royal city. This small pavilion, which served as the Band Stand, had pretty , turn- of- the -century European style railings and pillars and a high dome panelled with Glass Paintings of Mysore Art style.
From the centre of the dome hung a sparkling victorian lamp- shade of brilliant green glass. When sunlight streamed through the glass panels, the paintings glowed like carved gems ! I have never seen lovelier artwork of this type anywhere else. I have distant memories of listening to the Police Band play here , of families strolling around peacefully and of turbanned gentlemen walking their dogs.

I have used the past tense throughout the foregoing paragraph because though that park is still very much there, it is no longer in its former form. Firstly, it got renamed. "Nishat Bagh" was the original name given to it when it was laid out in the first quarter of the last century during the reign of Nalvadi Krishnaraja Wodeyar, who had been much inspired by the famous Nishat Bagh Gardens of Kashmir . Later, with Royalty becoming history, the Park too became a proletariat "Kuppanna Park" ( I have no idea who Kuppanna was).
Then, a considerable slice of its outer fringe was claimed by the City Corporation for widening a road and laying a gutter
.
And then, a Bus Stop shelter appeared , close to the Pavilion end. People tired of waiting for the buses felt free to use the Band Stand for lunching, sleeping, playing cards and vandalising.

But the gardens continued to be maintained , albeit in a haphazard manner, mostly during the Dasara festive season only. The weekly Bands vanished , but the park continued to serve as venue for the occassional pet show or a consumer awareness meet. While hedges around the compound started turning into wild thickets............
Most distressing of all was the fact that the brilliant Mysore Art Glass paintings on the pavilion's dome started falling off in pieces .
Nothing was done for years. Three years ago I dragged my son there to get the few remaining panels photographed for my own album, lest everything vanished one fine day.

Last year, the City Fathers suddenly woke up and decided to put that huge expanse of prime land to "good use". They announced a grand plan to convert Kuppanna Park into a Public Recreation Area at a cost of Rs.160 Lakhs. There'd be a rose garden, a musical fountain dancing to AR Rahman tunes , an amphitheatre for folk performances . And a promise to get the Glass Art work restored by a descendant of the family of artisans who had executed the original . The Corporation actually managed to trace the artist in T.Narsipur town and work out a contract with him. Small mercies.

But, nothing happened.
This year, there was a sudden flurry of activity and the magnificent palms started falling like nine pins ! Amended plans now include open air fast food restaurants, public loo, a parking lot and retail outlets . In short, another urban fair ground. Grief .

"Development Work" is in progress, amidst protest from many horrified quarters. And the pavilion's dome is still sporting yawning holes and shattered glass.

I do not know what the metamorphosis will finally unveil - restored glory or recycled novelty.

Suffice it that I have my memories and these photographs.

An angry mountain evokes memories

2010-11-07T10:36:00.000+05:30

Mt. Merapi in central Indonesia is making news - news of the ghastly kind. Recurrent outbursts in the past two weeks have wreaked much havoc. It is reported to be the worst episode in 100 years for the Holy Volacano. Reading reports of this disaster is distressing , all the more because one has seen that mountain in happier times.

Though it is the most active volacano in the region, on both the occassions that I saw Gunung Merapi, it was beautiful, benign, bathed in picture-postcard loveliness. This was years ago.

Merapi is the most sacred site for Buddhists who consider the "self-ignited" fire from it the holiest , to be used in rituals in the viharas spread around Central Java. The name Merapi is a combo of two Javanese words : Meru ( holy mountain)+ Api ( Fire).

The first time I saw it, was during my visit to Yogyakarta , an elegant Sultanate that lies some 30 kms. from the mountain .

The Yogyakarta Sultanate, considered one part of the holy trio that protects the Javanese people ( the other two being Mt. Merapi and Nyi Roro Kidul, the Spirit Queen of the Southern Ocean ), routinely offers appeasements in the form of elaborate rituals to keep Mt. Merapi in good spirits. And inspite of the many eruptions, people continue to live by its slopes because they consider the super-fertile, lava-enriched soil here the boon of the Hyang ( Spirit) of Merapi. Even though they dread the deadly "Lahars " ( mudflows). Such faith and reverence is inexplicable, but touching indeed.
(Above : Entrance to the Kraton in Jogja)
Our visit was to see the historic site of the mighty Mataram Dynasty that ruled Java in the 16th Century. In 1755, the empire was divided into two principalities , Yogyakarta and Surakarta, with their own lines of Sultans .

Yogyakarta :commonly called Jogja, is the Center of Javanese Culture and Fine Arts. Its Universities are also highly respected. ( BTW, there's one called "Sanata Dharma University"here. It is a Jesuit Instituition !)
It was very interesting to learn about the Javanese language, considered a Classical Language. Traditionally , a lot of attention goes into the kind of speech and body language used in social intercourse. One had to be very sure about the other's station in society and family before opening one's mouth because Javanese language has a rigid system of "speaking up" and "speaking down". The three "registers" are Ngoko ( informal), Madya ( polite) and Krama ( formal). Getting to the point right away in a conversation is considered very ,very crass ! Prolonged beating about the bush is the mark of high refinement ! It is good manners to make prolific use of Honorifics ( for others) and humilifics(for self) - I was reminded of our Lucknowi traditions ! The Javanese script ( Hanacaraka) is derived from the Brahmi of ancient India .

The Palace ( Kraton of Yogyakarta) is a fine specimen of local architecture, but very simple and minimalist in decoration. It is spacious, airy and flooded with natural light. One part of the kraton is converted into a museum showcasing collections and personal effects of the various kings. The high ceilings in the halls have beautifully arranged wooden beams and carved panels. People still adore the idea of Monarchy and the Royal Family ( The Hamengkubuwonos) is greatly respected even today.
( Picture below : A Gazebo in the garden.)
Jogja is a quaint city with old world bird markets, colonial (Dutch) Buildings, horse carriages, traditional wayang theatres alongside modernities like rapid transport lines and MacDonalds.

(Above : The Royal Bath in Jogja)

Surakarta , also called Solo, ( 35 km. from Jogja) is famous for the biggest textile market in the whole region - "Pasar Klewer". The Batiks found here are amazing. And Pasar Triwindu is the place to go for sourcing antiques.
The Kraton ( palace) of Solo sultans ( The Pakubuwonos) is similar to but smaller than the palace of Jogja.
In modern history, Solo played an active part during the freedom movement and also fostered the illfated Communist Movement that sought to overthrow feudalism.
(Above : Entrance to Kraton of Solo)
A graveyard called Imogiri ( corruption of Himagiri ) ,built in the 17th. century and renovated periodically, lies close to the twin cities and was specially constructed for the sultans of both principalities to rest in peace. Designed to look like a hill, with steps leading to a park-like plaza that holds the graves , it has a split-meru entrance, and a pinnacle , Prabayasa, that looks like a temple spire. Though this is a graveyard, people come here for both pilgrimage and picnic !

Jogja and Solo are known for :

1. Javanese classical music . Above : The Gamelan Orchestra.

2. Classical Dances. There are three types : Tari Serimpi ( mystical court dances), Tari Rakhyat ( for Public) and Tari Bedoyo ( Sacred dances). Above : A Serimpi number, but performed for public now !
3. Traditional Ballet (of Mahabharata and Ramayana stories). In picture above, episode of Subhadra's death ; open air performance.
4. Batik cloth in organic dyes. Above : Artisan in a batik workshop.

5. And Puppet Theatre. Varieties being, the Shadow Puppet Plays using leather cut outs. And Wooden Puppets manipulated with sticks( pictures below)

PS :Indian expats in the country relate Solo with a variety of fragrant rice - very similar to Basmati !

A Mini Marvel

2010-10-29T21:52:00.001+05:30

It took us a good fifteen minutes to cross the busy road to get to the muddy lot on the otherside. The patch was overgrown with weeds and strewn with urban waste . From here led a mud path to an enclosure sprouting a set of kalinga style spires. A dismal point of entry to an enchantment called MUKTESHWAR.

Of the nearly 1000 temples in Odisha's Ekamra Kshetra or Bubhaneshwar, Mukteshwar seems to be the most elegant . It looks like a smaller, compact "pocket edition" of the magnificent Lingaraj temple in Bubhaneshwar. Built in 950 AD, it is profusely ornate ; the intricacy of the stone embellishments , simply stunning. Not an inch of stone left unworked.
No wonder it is called the crown jewel of Classical Kalinga Art.

The most eye-catching detail here is the splendid doorway, the "torana", influenced by Buddhist architecture.

Of the carvings, a vast proportion portray scenes of skinny ascetics engaged in what looks like ayurvedic medicine preparation rituals, assisted by young lads and goblins. Or are they alchemists ? The scenes portrayed in the accompanying panels are very intriguing.

Noteworthy are the decorative medallions on the pilasters , which show warrior like figures with elaborate hairdos and clunky jewelry, some with wide smiles displaying their teeth!

I loved those female warriors. Feminine, yet strong and determined in action.

Many panels show familiar Panchatantra stories. But I wonder whose faces are those, sculpted within round "picture-frames", placed at regular intervals all around the outer walls. They have markedly Buddhist and Jaina features.
Though it is a small building, it demands a lot of time to take in each and every little interesting detail embroidered on stone.

While looking up in wonder and amazement, one can catch sight of some solitary yaksha figures, crouching on the edge of high ledges and peering down , with a smirk on their faces. I found those fellows quite unnerving !

The temple pond, once thought to contain holy water with curative powers, is now unfortunately a green pool of stagnating rain water. Nevertheless, the reflection of the temple spires in the still water did make a very enchanting sight.
Accompanying this small gem of a temple , within the enclosure well maintained by the ASI, is another, plainer mini temple, the Siddheshwar and some nondescript pavilions. The temple complex , it is said, originally stood within an octogonal compound, of which nothing much remains now. Over the years, the temple has undergone many improvements and renovations thanks to the patronage of kings and now, the ASI.
We are lucky Mukteshwar has been preserved. But it hurts to imagine how many other treasures may have been lost !

( Photographs : By nephew, Shravan )

Precious, but imperilled denizens of Chilika

2010-10-26T21:58:00.001+05:30

October I week
We arrived in PURI ( Orissa/ Odisha) in the most inclement weather. Depression in the Bay of Bengal had caused the skies over Jagannath's citadel to go grey, meloncholic and vengeful. It kept pouring buckets, turning the town into a total mess ( not that it was a showpiece of civic beauty to begin with !). Would the all merciful Krishna and His Siblings give us a chance to realise our cherished plan of meeting Lake Chilika's most famous denizens : The Irrawaddy Dolphins ?
Hoping to beat the clouds, we set out very early from the beach- resort in Puri, on NH-203 A for the 50km journey . A very pleasant drive, with lovely, lush vistas of glistening emerald on both sides. But as we neared destination , the wind started howling and rain fell in thin showers.
At the boat jetty, the little shacks selling snacks had lowered polythene sheets over the fronts, while the ticketing agent in the newly constructed counter, pouted discouragingly. He opined it was not the best day to have a darshan of the treasured creatures. ' They never come out in such weather.' Nevertheless, he pushed for sale, offering us a variety of boats , durations and rates to choose from. All attractions offered were neatly itemised on the newly painted signboard and on the ticket. So what if we could not see Item No. 5 : Dolphin, he tempted us, we could always enjoy 1. Sand Bar, 2. Sea Face, 3. Little Birds 4. Red Crab and 6. Ancient Temple.
Glimpsing wildlife of anykind is always chancy. Even when the wardens promise good prospects, disappointments abound. So, what to expect when absolutely no hope is extended ? But, beating a retreat was not an option .
Clutching our umbrellas and shawls, we took the Rs.1200 package upon a whim and got into a rude motor boat with a blue awning. The wiry boatman( smartly togged up in raincoat,cap and rubber boots ) baled out the pools of water collected on floor of the boat and whirred into the choppy, slate gray waters of the sea-like Chilika with a cheerful cry of " Hooooiiii ! "

CHILIKA Lake is the largest coastal lagoon in India, second largest in the world, fed by the rivers Daya,Mallaguni, Bhargavi and Nuni . Its an estuarine assembly of marine , brackish and fresh water eco-systems sheltering diverse varieties of fauna and flora and the largest winter-home of migratory birds in the subcontinent . It was the First Indian site included in the RAMSAR Convention * . Spread over 1165 Sq. Kms. it is the lifeline of thousands of fishermen, living along its shore and numerous islands (some with funny names like Breakfast Island, Honeymoon Island etc).
The Southern sector of the lake, towards the outer channel , is the habitat of the Irrawaddy Dolphins, now a Critically Endagered species with less than 150 individuals living here. A few families inhabit the Sundarbans.

SATAPARA /SATPADA is the base , designated by Chilika Development Authority , from which Dolphin watching safaris can be undertaken. Since the creatures are protected, many guidelines are to be followed. Only five tourist boats are allowed to ply the water at any given time and none can get within 50 meters of a "sighting". As soon as a dolphin is sighted, the motor of the boat is to be switched off and so too, the human voice. Chasing, feeding or poaching the animals can land you in jail and leave you Rs.25,000 poorer.

The IRRAWADDY DOLPHIN ( orcaella brevirostris) is characterised by a rounded head and the distinct lack of the nose or snout commonly associated with dolphins. It is small, grey and shy. There are local Folk Tales of how the forefathers could communicate with these "Khera"and get their help in netting shoals of fish. As wages for herding the fish towards the net, the aquatic guides got to feast on the pieces discarded by the fisher. Symbiotic existence, now defunct.

A short while after leaving the jetty, the boatman pointed to a far off point where the lake and sea seemed to merge and declared " Sea Face !" Almost as if to say, " Score it off the list on your ticket. One down, four more to go !"
Some 30 minutes into the ride, the boat pulled up at one of the innumerable, minsicule islands scattered in the lagoon and beckoned to a grinning lad standing on that 12ft. strip of slippery green. The boy jumped in holding aloft an old 2liter mineral water bottle. " Red Crab !" announced the boatman with a flourish and we caught sight of two huge coral coloured crabs brawling inside their P.E.T. prison. Ingenious mobile aquarium ! After the mandatory photoshoot session, the lad was dumped back onto the island and we chugged forth. Item 3 :Red Crab: check !

The drizzle, though steady, no longer bothered us, as we were soaked anyway. So we decided to enjoy the chilly breeze and the view of mangroves in the horizon. Soon, however, the boat stopped at another kerchief sized island . Two grinning youths waiting in a country boat, jumped in with a pail and our pilot , ever the suave M.C., announced " Fresh Water Pearls !" Now, this was not on the list and clearly an "Added Attraction !" The youths pulled out pairs of oysters from the pail and started knocking them together to break them open. And from the gooey mass of mollusc flesh within, they dug out smooth, round glowing pearls ! One after the other, they cracked open and, after a hiccup of suspense ( is there or isn't there?) out fell pinkish, creamish and greyish pearls ! Also the occassional black ! We had a go at this mesmerising harvest too, having made sure beforehand that the creatures were already dead. After the whole pail was ransacked ( only three out of 20 oysters were pearl-less), our Pilot got down to business: Rs50 for each pearl, Rs.200 for the rare black ones. And no compulsion to buy. But how could anyone decline ! A few seconds of bargaining brought the prices down to 20 and 50 respectively and we all soon had our booty, the fruit of our own labour ! Though the pilot insisted that the youths had dived in and netted those wild oysters, it was plain that they had slyly pilfered them from some pearl culturing farm nearby, most probably a place they worked in.

This sideshow has eaten into our time , so we hurried off , and at the next patch of land visible in the water, we were shown the promised "Little Birds". Half a dozen herons ? Oh well, why disappont the good man ? Trying not to think of Ranganathittoo, we dutifully ooh-ed and aah-ed in appreciation and clicked pictures.

We sped past circles of wooden stakes jutting out of water ( probably used for tying nets), past two other boats whose pilots exchanged intelligence with ours on where the Khera could be, past islands , sandbars and minipatches of green......
The boat slowed down and I suddenly panicked, imagining a dolphin proffered to our view in a plastic tub by yet another grinning lad. But,no.This was for real. This was it ! Dolphins ! Two of them, tumbling just under the water surface. Now we saw them, now we din't. The motor was cut silent and our good man started miming frantically, showing the spot where another one was lurking. We tripped over each other, trying to catch at least one full-body view of the mercurial creatures. But they never fully sprang out or raised their heads. Very quickly, they ended their show and vanished altogether. It was thrilling !

The boatman waited reverentially for a few more minutes to make sure they had gained a distance, then revved up his motor. He was as excited as we were and boasted to the pilot of another boat passing us about our goodluck.
Before our excitement had died down, the boat stopped again, this time by another islet from where yet another grinning lad invaded our vessel, holding yet another pail. There were some geenish masses of what looked like sedimented mussels and clams. He started hammering them with a piece of wood and after they had crumbled, extracted two orange coloured beads . " Gem. Mani !" He announced . Was he trying to sell us corals ? Neatly cut and polished hemispherical beads, ready to be set in gold ! Fresh and Natural from the seabed, did he say ? C'mon ! it was so patently fake, we had to shoo the boy off and instruct the overenthusiastic pilot to turn back. We had to return to Puri before the ever threatening clouds released a torrent.

The boat turned and headed to an island , overgrown with gnarled trees , where the last promised item : "Ancient Temple ", was situated. The Island was called Manikpur and the temple : Babhakundeshwar. The place looked eerie, deserted and very, very ancient. The beautiful temple was partly buried in sand, with only the front side cleared. On one niche on the outer wall was a sculpted goddess, her face fully weather worn and blunt........resembling the face of the Irrawaddy dolphin !

* RAMSAR :The Convention on Wetlands is an intergovernmental treaty that provides the framework for national action and international cooperation for the conservation and wise use of wetlands and their resources. It was adopted in the Iranian city of Ramsar in 1971 and came into force in 1975, and it is the only global environmental treaty that deals with a particular ecosystem. The Convention's member countries cover all geographic regions of the planet. )
All Photographs by : Shravan, my nephew.

The following one is from the CDA Brochure:

Once Upon a Dream...........

2010-09-12T11:36:00.000+05:30

While making travel plans, we usually collect info. of the Footnotes kind from different sources, so that we are not thrown off balance by little "surprises" we may encounter in alien lands. So far, I have not experienced any great Culture Shock , anywhere. Except in - of all places - Hampi. In our own backyard !
Three years ago, I was given a Hampi Trip as a birthday gift by my son and it served as a cherished refresher course, as the memory of my first trip to the wonderful place, eons ago, is less than sketchy ( and the four B&W 3-inch photos are dismal souvenirs that speak nothing.)

We ( Son, Sis and I) checked into a homestay "guest house" adjacent to The Bazar Street at 4 am, and stepped out, refreshed, at 7.30 to find ourselves an ordinary Idli -Coffee breakfast.

The arterial street was fully abuzz with activity, with more than a dozen thatch-roof cafes open for business. Most of them with signboards proclaiming " Recommended by Lonely Planet ". The population out and about was predominantly foreign : in shorts and tees, in sarongs and dreadlocks, in kurta pyjamas, some spruced up, some scruffy, either jogging or photographing or lounging or eating.......barely six or seven natives to be seen ! And finding the humble idli turned out to be a quest for the Holy Grail. Cafes labelled Mahalakshmi , Virupaksha , New Shantha Bhavan and suchlike offered Continental, Italian, Israeli, Japanese and Korean fare with panache ; but the dothi or saree-clad rustic hoteliers shrugged in lofty disinterest at the very mention of Idli dosa - like we were asking for stale pie in The Ritz ! Their cows, tethered to the front pillars, turned up their noses in disdain, for good measure. Culture Shock, big time !

But that only added to the total charm of Hampi. Our Tourism Department uses a tag line, " If Dreams are sculpted in stone, it would be Hampi". Permissible hyperbole ? Actually, quite true. The Hampi experience is without a doubt, superlative .

Its not only about the awesome artistry lavished on the monuments .

Or just the majesty and romance of the ruined city .

Its about Hampi's almost surreal and magical location amidst those amazing boulders .

Its about the seamless continuation of life and living , the present thriving organically within of the past.
Its about the regal dignity with which the monkeys still lord it over the ancient Kishkinda;

Its about the great concourse of life, of all races, that fills the ancient city in an eternal Mela ;

About the unexpected , unobtrusive, unflaunted details that spring into view suddenly ;

Its about lingering echoes of unbelievable legends

and about the overpowering feeling of being humbled into insignificance in the face of monumental Faith and the glorious heights achieved by human will in both Arts and Administration.

Some tidbits sticking fast to memory:

The autorickshaw drive from Hospet Bus-stand, on a long, lonely, unlit " road" serenaded by crickets, in the darkness before daybreak, with no signs of civilization for a good half hour.

The two shops, in front of the Virupaksha temple that sell pooja articles : rummaging in the wooden bins filled with old metal junk from temples and defunct households can yield such wonderful loot ! Artistic and antique objects.

The narrow cave on the banks of the river that leads to the Hanuman Temple. There is no telling when the cows, bells tinkling and hooves clacking , will decide to rush in from the other side ! So, its prayer at ever step !

Stopping for tea in a small cafe where the fridge stands in openair, connected to a switchboard fixed to the coconut tree. Nevermind the signboard that says : "Recommand of Lovely Planet" !

The innovative plumbing in the bathroom of homestay .

Reading the Ramayana as in Amar Chitra Katha comics on the walls of the Hazara Rama Monument.

Plodding through the slushy banana groves and freshly planted paddyfields to reach the much talked about "Mango Tree " restaurant above the river and eating spicy noodles served on banana leaves .
Discovering that in addition to being in the UNESCO World Heritage List, Hampi also features in its " Heritage Sites in Danger" list . Ofcourse, the contoversial suspension bridge across the river was scrapped, but another danger in the form of mining activity in neighbouring areas persists, threatening the fragile monuments.

( Photographs by Son )

Gone with the wave............

2010-08-21T14:34:00.000+05:30

Recently, a relative who traveled to Puducherri , decided to drop by the Alamparai Fort on her way back to Chennai, having heard of the place from me sometime ago. But the report of her trip was dismal ! She sounded cheated ! And after seeing her pictures, I was dismayed too. In place of the somewhat respectable remnant of a fort that I had visited a few times ( the last visit in 2003), stood broken stumps of brickwork and crumbled walls. The only part that looked halfway recognisable was the inner stairway .

To begin with, the remains that had survived to this century were not all that strong and majestic , as the fort was not of stone, but of brick and mortar. At best, it was in a state of precarious preservation. Came the Tsunami and chunks of the fort got washed away in a jiffy. And then, the torrential rains (of this season and the last ) seem to have knocked down a few more weathered structures. What remains now, apparently, are sad heaps of wet rubble . Unfortunate that a place which had once been the platform for the colourful foibles of Nobles and influential merchants should face such ravage in its old age. But that's the way cookies and forts crumble, I guess.

ALAMPARAI, is situated between Mahabalipuram and Pondicherry on the East Coast Road, near the village of Kadapakkam. A small road breaking off the highway, leads, via a village, to the Fort standing on the shore. It was constructed in late 17th. Century by the Mughals , servicing a huge dockyard from where, reportedly, " Brocade cloth, Ghee and Salt" were exported . There was also a Mint within its precincts which the French got shifted to Pondicherry later.In its heyday, the Fort was one of the major trading outposts administered by the Nawabs of Arcot . It was a regular port of call for all ships plying the coromandal coast.

Later, though, it was gifted away to the French by Muzaffar Jung , a star-crossed worthy who was "Subedar of Bijapur" , "Viceroy of Deccan" and "Ruler of Hyderabad" all for a period of just one year ! The gift was in appreciation of the assistance Dupleix had given the Nawabs to resist the Marathas. While in French possession, Alamparai thrived as a small, industrious township according to minutae recorded by the Dubash to the French court. However, as soon as the British established their supremacy over the French in South India,in 1760, the fort was sacked and greatly damaged.

After that blow, it became a ghost fort , deserted and reduced to a shelter for wayfarers and vandals . The better materials from it would have been stripped and carted off by locals for their use and what survived to modern times was just a vast sandy wasteland,( about 15 acres) bounded by haphazard stretches of walls and two watch towers.
There never was much to explore in Alamparai Fort even before its recent battering, but the location is very picturesque and pleasant. Among the parts left intact, the structures of interest are the narrow fleet of steps going up to the ramparts and the northern doorway.
The few panels of decorative brick arrangements, the moulded lintels and the turreted walls are all we can take as indications of past glory.
Within the fort lies an unmarked tomb with protective walls of a more recent origin.

Whenever we visited, we took rides in fishermen's boats, rowing along the towering walls, that seemed to rise from the surf. The view of the walls and the palm trees was always enchanting and evocative.
Most of the time, its quiet around there, with just a few picnickers visiting on weekends.

But the ruined fort seems to have a second life as a picturesque "location" , favoured by movie makers . Whenever a vehicle arrives, urchins from the nearby village rush in, expecting a film shoot and promptly offer their services : carrying equipment to the spot , fetching snacks and drinks from the village , arranging boats etc.etc.

( Photos by son.)

That Sinking feeling............

2010-08-15T22:09:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, I received a forwarded mail with pictures showing Venice inundated by the recent flood , almost turned into an Atlantis Theme Park !

I remembered our own visit to Venice and our dread at just such a prospect ! The water level was pretty close to lapping over the stone avenues when we arrived at the San Marco water taxi jetty. We later learnt that we had escaped an episode of 'aqua alta' ( High Water) by just two days. Aqua Alta flooding is a periodic phenomenon that leaves major portions of this beautiful historic city submerged knee deep in tidal backlash for short intervals. Not that this discourages Tourists swarming in ! Come Hell or High Water, excited gaggles of camera toting visitors overrun Venice throughout the year, wearing rubber boots when necessary. If you can capture a quiet corner all for yourself, consider yourself fortunate !

Our visit was just a daylong trip . Chugged in by the early morning train and took the last one out. A fully packed day, "doing" all the important sites around Venice proper and taking the 3-Islands tour to see a glass workshop in Murano ( awesome), a hand-lace making demo. in Burano ( exquisite) and an old Cathedral (- Santa Maria Assunta -) in Torcello( splendid ).
( The rows of variously coloured houses in Burano, giving the village a bright, happy, toyland kind of look, was a memorable sight.)

So what did we, typical tourists, do in Venice ?
Clicked pictures in the iconic Piazza San Marco ;
Fed the pigeons ( and got royally scratched by their over-eager claws too) ;
Toured the Grand Canal, wondering at the antique palazzos that just emerge out of water without pavement or compound ;
Shopped for masks and pretty, coloured glass baubles( bewildering choice !) ;
Crossed some Bridges with jostling crowds, frantically marking the names in the guide book lest we forget or get confused;
Gawked at the works of Renaissance painters inside the Doges Palace;
Ate hot, roasted nuts ( chestnuts, i think) from roadside carts;
Enjoyed cheap thrills posing with Posters of the Indian Films participating in the Lido Festival;
etc. etc.
All the while, in the background, was the unforgettable stench of diesel , wet wood and algae- scented water ! And the recurring, nasty thought : what if Venice sank suddenly, like the cataclysmic disappearance of many a fabled city of yore ? After all, according to the gleeful guide, the whole city was built on piles of ancient ( rotting ?) wood and was "subsiding" millimeter by micro-millimeter - more rapidly now due to the proliferation of artesian wells all around.
Have been reading, since then, about various efforts to keep the hightides invading Venice ; the most ambitious one, inaugurated in 2003, involves barriers of inflatable pontoons to stop the incoming seawater.

Gondola ride ? No. Too time- consuming for a short trip. And too expensive to boot. The 'Vaporetti' ( Water Bus) suited us just fine.

Venice was like a dream, in more ways than one.

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THE VATICAN -The Holy See

There are shrines and shrines. And there is St Peter's Basilica . ( Basilica Papale di San Pietro in Vaticano) What can one say ? It strikes one dumb. Totally tongue tied by its grandeur...........only Faith can move people to build so magnificent an edifice, putting everything a human is capable of into its making - and maintainance.

Situated west of River Tiber, its ground plan is shaped like a crucifix and the alter is directly above the tomb of St Peter the Apostle. It has one of the largest domes in the world. Certain skylights allow sunrays to fall in shafts of light during certain times of the day, creating a fabulous illusion of Divine Grace. The Alter is a brilliant work of Art, inspiring awe and respect for the artisans.

The marble Pieta made me misty eyed. I strained to catch Michaelangelo's monogramme " M" carved into her palm, but could not make it out clearly because of the jostling crowds.

St Peter's square, a vast, colonnaded Baroque Piazza , comes alive with pulsating seas of humanity every wednesday when people throng to get a glimpse of The Pope, who gives his weekly darshan from the balcony. We were not aware of this wednesday ritual, but fortuitously found ourselves there on that special day . We were most happy to see the Pope ( John Paul) raising his frail hand in blessing and it was thrilling to hear the ecstatic crowds go : " Papa! Papa !" The statues of the saints and apostles , standing atop the rim of the facade, look very dramatic against the sky.

Among the crowds (from all nations on earth), we saw a group of nuns from Kerala who had come with a permission to meet the Pope close up. Earlier , we had seen a stream of newlyweds in bridal wear, and some newborn babies in bassinets, lining up to be blessed by the Pope. We saw many women in the concourse, chanting prayers, sobbing, kneeling and raising some icons above their heads in religious ecstacy . Many attractive icons were on sale all around the square and sales were brisk......
A Romani ( Gypsy) couple, with chiselled features and bright native clothing, came up to us and declared they were our " cousins" ! In a brief chat , in accented English, they told us that their ( gypsy) ancestors were Indian and they still held some "Aryan beliefs", and that they were so glad to meet us.

There are three other shrines within the Holy See , St.Mary Major, St. John Lateran and St Paul Outside Walls out of which we visited only the last one.

The Vatican Museums ( started in 16th Cent) contain sculptures, inscriptions, scientific instruments, paintings, pottery, gems & jewelry, tapestries, maps etc from different civilizations, all of great historic value, collected by the Church . Particularly interesting were the astronomical models and instruments used during Rennaissance. The Library was only partially open, large parts of it curtained off.
But the most wonderful images imprinted in memory are from the Sistine Chapel, tucked behind the galleries. The visitors queue was serpentine and it took a while for us to enter. But the wait was well worth it. All those wonderful, familiar images - there on the ceiling and walls in original !!!!! I could have swooned.

Tourists, craning their necks and pointing frantically, could mot suppress exclamations and gasps of wonder. Only the cautioning clap of hand and "Shhhhh" issued by a majestic monk in voluminous robes, at regular intervals, kept voluble appreciation in check.
The Restoration of the Frescoes , a long, painstaking project, was almost fully complete when we visited, but there was some scaffolding still left standing in one part, the final patch.
The uniform of the Vatican guards, apparently unchanged from the days of the Rennaissance, are very colourful and ceremonial. And the guards cheerfully pose for pictures, as they seem to have nothing much to do !

For a quick break................

2010-07-21T21:43:00.000+05:30

Its one of the getaways one never tires of. Whenever the extended family gets together for a mini holiday in the hometown, there's usually a daylong trip rustled up at short notice. Someplace within the 50km. range. If its not peak summer, the choice is usually Kere Thonnur ( or Thondanoor Eri), a huge Fresh Water reservoir in Mandya District, about 45 Kms. from Mysore. The water in this lake is crystal clear and has given rise to a legend that a string of pearls worn by a visiting Sultan, accidently fell into the lake, but could be seen clearly , lying deep at the bottom ! Whereupon, it is believed, the Sultan named the place "Moti Talab". The unique feature of the lake is that it has never dried up fully even once , from the time it was built in the 12th Century.
The outflow from the reservoir is fashioned into an artificial waterfall, a sandy patch (beautified with a gazebo) serves as a Beach for picknicing and rides are offered in boats and country rafts (called Theppas) . But, the place is not crowded with tourists. So it is always a pleasant outing.

Thondanur is a place of great religious significance to Vaishnavas and has three important shrines of antiquity dedicated to Lord Vishnu in different modes. Historically, this is the place where King Bhitti Deva renounced Jainism to embrace the Vaishnava creed and become Vishnuvardhana, after the seer Ramanujacharya cured his daughter of an incurable malaise. The impressive, granite temples of Nambi Narayana and Parthasarathy , with huge idols presiding in the sanctum, are under the care of Archeological Survey of India. Photography is prohibited within the temples and the surrounding fences and lawns are reasonably well maintained . But we have often seen wedding parties making merry with feasts inside the spacious courtyard, showing scant respect for the carvings and inscriptions on the walls around!

A 30minute drive away from Thondanur is Melkote or Thirunarayanapuram, a pilgrimage centre that attracts great crowds during the famous Vairamudi ( Diamond Crown) Festival. The stone and stucco temple is located atop a rocky hill known as Yadavagiri, overlooking the Kaveri river valley, and is said to be older than 1000 years. The processional image , named Selvapillai or Sampath Kumara or Ramapriya, is believed to have been involved in many adventurous escapades - from being in the possession of Sri Rama's son Kusha, to becoming a toy to a Muslim Princess ( enshrined here as Bibi Nacchiyar) !
Another temple, dedicated to Yoga- Narasimha, is situated atop a summit and can be reached via a fleet of ancient stone steps, climbing which can be an exhilarating experience because of the beautiful vistas that open up at every stage. And also because of the squirrels, monkeys and birds that give company .
Other than the temples, the most arresting structure here is the Kalyani or temple pond . The many- pillared corridors running along its length and the stepped banks are very picturesque and have, inevitably, starred in many South Indian movies. Enchanting views of this Kalyani can also be had from Narasimha's hill.
A little way away from the main temple are two little ponds called Akka Thangi kola . Votary tanks for public use commissioned by two sisters, with a folk lore attached to them. Beyond these two tanks, on a higher plateau stands a structure that looks like the remnant of a fort. Huge walls with tall pillars supporting nothing ! This is the famous Raya Dwara , the impressive gateway to the fabled fortress city built here by Thimmanna Dhannayaka , a Vijayanagar Chieftain, in 1460 .
Among academicians, Melkote is known for its Sanskrit research Academy stocked with close to 30,000 valuable manuscripts (on paper and palm leaf) in Sanskrit, Kannada, Telugu, Tamil , dealing with a wide range of subjects. One of the earliest Sanskrit Colleges was established here in 1854. Visitors are allowed to look through these ancient bibliographic treasures, at certain fixed timings.

Melkote is surrounded by swathes of jungle land which sheltered a great variety of fauna and flora till urbanisation crept in, felling more and more woods year by year. The Indian Gray Wolf ( canis lupus pallipes ) is a major carnivore of the Karnataka plains. While in the whole of India there are less than 2500 of them, Karnataka is home to around 500. The population was drastically diminished because the Black Buck, its natural prey, dwindled in numbers at an alarming rate, thanks to loss of wood land. But the real slide started with the erstwhile British rulers classifying wolves as "vermin" and sanctioning indiscriminate slaughter. According to one estimate, 200,000 wolves were exterminated in a span of 50 years . This mindset carried into modern times too, with villagers getting rid of whole families of these animals in order to protect their sheep and children ( there is a superstition that wolves kidnap babies !)

It was with a view to conserve this native animal that in 1974, a 50sq.km. sanctuary was developed in Melkote . The Melkote Wolf Sanctuary is in two parts( the smaller Mudibetta and the larger Narayanadurga sections) and is composed of rocky, dry , scrublands . Besides the wolf, it shelters deer, wild boar, macaques , leopard , pangolin and varieties of birds. Only deer and peacocks are easy to spot. We have never seen a leopard or a wolf pack here !

Not very far from here is Kunthi Betta, the rocky hill earlier known as French Rocks ( or Dandu in kannada)because it had been the camping ground of the French Army corps that arrived to help Tipu Sultan in his battle against the British. Today, Kunthi Betta is favoured by rock climbers , rapellers, hiking enthusiasts and bird watchers. Also by the pious ,who climb up a steep stairway to worship at the antique Mallikarjuna temple .

Daybreak at Kere Thonnur , sunset at Kunthi Betta with Melkote in between can indeed be a sumptuous , refreshing " Short Break" !

Little Tibet

2010-07-06T22:22:00.000+05:30

Its the Dalai Lama' s 75th. Birthday.
I heard that Bylaguppe is having a big do.
Reportedly, 45,000 Tibetans live there now !
This number amazes me.

I remember the early days of the Bylaguppe Refugee Settlement near Kushalnagar.
The refugees from Tibet had started coming to India around 1960 and the government settled them in camps in Karnataka and Himachal Pradesh.
In our state, a hilly tract with wet deciduous forest belonging to the Western Ghats ecosphere, 250 Kms. from Bangalore on the Mysore-Madikeri route, was sanctioned for their colony ( I learnt from my father that some local landholders had made a noise about this allocation because they had been denied permission to develop plantations there and couldn't digest the fact that all that coveted land was going to charity !).

The very first time I visited the place, it was all misty hills, rolling grasslands and lush woods which to a child's eye looked like a " foreign hill station"! The refugees' houses were rudimentary , standard , government- issue concrete cubes with no roads to speak of. The small community of Tibetans, numbering some 200 or so, were coaxing corn, potato and grains out of the vast patches of virgin land claimed from the forest. They were hardy folk, undeterred by the problems of settling in a totally alien land and culture. Not to mention confronting "strange" creatures like elephants , that sometimes invaded the cultivated lands!

In the mid- sixties, the Club to which my parents belonged held a Cultural Nite and dinner to raise money for the the refugees. Tibetan Masked Dances and trumpets were part of the programme.
My Father, as member of the organising committee got to interact with the two English speaking representatives of the community and learnt a great deal of interesting facts about the Tibetan way of life and of their homeland. It all sounded so fabulous and strange to us ; we were as much fascinated by the culture as pained by the story of their exile . When the Dalai Lama first visited the place, my Father met and paid his respects to him.

Soon after the establishment of the Refugee Camp, Bylaguppe became a favourite weekend picnic spot for most Mysoreans ! It became a routine midway stop for anyone traveling from Mysore or Bangalore towards Coorg.
I have been visiting the place repeatedly since then. The changes i see each time never fail to impress.
During the early days, progress was rapid and the settlement bloomed into a nice township very soon , thanks entirely to the industriousness of the Tibetans. When the Town was still in the making, with only one small monastery and a single road, the main attractions ( for us !) were the Carpet weaving co-operative and the four shops that sold little treasures like metal figurines, porcelain table ware, buddhist pooja articles, shawls and chinese umbrellas. Shopping there was always interesting . It still is, if we overlook the Lays Chips packets, terra-cotta Ganeshas and stuff like that.

The credit for establishing the Namdroling Monastery here goes to the Guru Rimpoche who is said to have put in manual labour to raise the first wooden structure. Today, Namdroling is the biggest seminary of Tibetan Buddhism in the world with a Sangha of 5000 Lamas ( monks and nuns), a religious university ( called Shedra), a hospital and living quarters.
The magnificent Padmasambhava Vihara ( Golden Temple) was built in 1999. The gigantic Buddhas , detailed murals and the resonating hum of a hall full of lamas chanting their prayers are worth experiencing.

When the generation born in Bylaguppe came to schooling age, the small informal teaching house, that was till then teaching only the Tibetan script and numbers, was made into a full blown CBSC school. Children who study there come to exam centers in Mysore to take Board exams. Many of them opt to go to Thailand for higher studies.

Sign boards in Tibetan script have appeared on the Hunsur Main road as they now have businesses other than agriculture too. Mechanic shops, hotels, hairdressers. You can now see them all even without taking the deviation into their town.

Today, "Bylaguppe", the Tibetan Settlement is known the world over. Celebrities who sympathise with the fight for "Free Tibet" visit the place frequently. Though tourists can freely go there on sightseeing visits, those wishing to stay over at the place,( especially Foreigners,) need to apply for special permits. Bylaguppe has two settlements : Lugsum Samdupling ( old town) and Dickyi Larsoe ( new town).

The Tibetans have blended well into the country of adoption. Many speak kannada and hindi quite well. Some have married into the local population. The brochures put out by The State Tourism Department include the Golden Temple as one of the treasures of Karnataka ! The assimilation was proved to be complete when the famous Dasara Parade ( Jambu Savari), which showcases the traditions and culture of our state, included a float depicting Bylaguppe in its Procession a couple of years ago !

Speaking of ourselves, all our family guests are routinely hauled off to Bylaguppe for "sightseeing" and so far, none have returned with anything less than 20 exclamations of awe, at least 25 photographs and the inescapable souvenir - the Drilbu and Dorje set ! ( = Bell and sceptre : the ritual objects used in tantric buddhist worship )

* * * *
Happy Birthday , Your Holiness .

Visiting History .................5. Istanbul

2010-06-18T22:46:00.000+05:30

Was surprised to learn that Istanbul is the Fifth Largest "City Proper" in the world. ( First is , of course, Shanghai ; Second and Fourth ? Mumbai and Delhi !). It was a surprise because we saw no sign of its vastness or population as we drove to the hotel from Sabiha Gokcen Airport. ( The airport is named for the first female combat pilot in the world) . Even the sightseeing tours on the first two days were confined to the Sultanahmet area, where the hotel was situated, so it dint feel any more vast than our Bengaluru ! But we started appreciating its ranking only when we went on the Bosphorus Cruise and the guide gave us a complete geography education about the historic city which was traditionally called Thrace on the European bank and Anatolia on its Eastern bank.
Not many metros can boast of straddling two continents ! When one crosses one of the bridges over the river, one gets from Avrupa ( Europe) to Asya ( Asia) in just under 15 mins. And there are cheerful yellow "Welcome to Europe/Asia" sign boards on either end of the bridges. Officially though, Turkey is a European country and by a happy coincidence, this year, Turkey is the designated " European Capital of Culture" ( a status bestowed by the European Union on a different city each calender year, under a programme started in 1985 to showcase culture and allied development of its cities), so there was much culture on show and great pampering of tourists.

Almost all of Istanbul's history, culture and traditions is rooted in the Old City situated on the natural harbour called The Golden Horn created by the strait of Bosphorus which connects The Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara. The Bosphorus is the world's narrowest strait used for International navigation and is the lifeline of the city's 12.5 million people, most of whom live on the Asian side and work on the European side. The ancient city walls around the Old City can still be seen running around the "district" of Sultanahmet which is home to the 3 major landmarks : Hagia Sophia, The Blue Mosque and the Topkapi Palace .
Hagia Sophia ( or Aya Sofya), the basilica of Holy Wisdom was built by Justinian in 360 Ad.( rebuilt many times over) For 1000 years, this Heart of Constantinople was the largest cathedral in the world till the Seville Cathedral ( Spain) beat it in the 16th. century. Under the Ottomans, it was used as a mosque. The Father of the Republic, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk , converted it into a museum in 1935. The immense dome ( 56 mts. high) , surrounded by minor domes is an epitome of Byzantine architecture and served as the model for scores of other mosques in Istanbul. The minarets are Ottoman additions.The interior is truly breathtaking with all surfaces covered with claddings of green and white marble, purple porphyry and gold mosaics.The huge Lustration jars ( carved from single blocks of marble), the gilt work shrines, the fine moulded filigree on the column heads, the niche of The Empress, the 40 coloured glass windows bordering in the dome, the beautiful mihrab and minbar ( Islamic additions), the huge medallions with Islamic calligraphy hung in the eight directions are all awe inspiring . The restored christian iconic mosaics in the upper level are all exquisite works of art dating from the 9th to 11th century.

Topkapi Palace ( Topkapi Sarayi) - Unesco World Heritage Site -was created as a triumphant capital of Ottoman power by the 23 year old Sultan Mehmed II who captured the fabled Constantinople from the Romans in 1453.
Situated on Seraglio Point, a promontory above the sea of Marmara, it is designed as an elaborate , sprawling campus with administrative offices ( Imperial Council) , public audience chambers, living quarters, library, treasury and mint, harems, kitchens, baths, clinic, iftar pavilion, gardens ( tulips !), Eunuchs quarters, stables, and gardens interconnected by series of courtyards and avenues. Also within the ramparts is a Byzantine church, converted into an armoury . The glory and magnificence of Ottoman life are now preserved as museum pieces for us to gape at, among them the very famous Topkapi Dagger.
Rich, bejewelled gifts from Indian royalty can be seen too ! (Funnily, a tin goblet encrusted with gems was also considered precious because tin was a rare metal back then)

(At the entrance of both Aya Sofya and Topkapi, tourists are required to go through baggage check and personal frisking for security reasons. As we visited during peak tourist season, it was near mayhem at both these entry points, with impatient crowds jostling to get to the narrow turnstiles quickly! Busloads of energetic schoolchildren din't make things any easier! )

The Blue Mosque ( Sultanahmet Camii) is a striking structure, the most recognised symbol of Istanbul. Completed in 1619 , this ambitious building , commissioned by the Ottoman Sultan Ahmet Khan I as an Islamic rival to Aya Sophia , has a massive dome supported by four coloumns that are 16 ft. in diameter, with a cascade of minor domes arranged in tiers all around it. It has six tall and slender minarets , considered an ostentation as all mosques have only four. The Sultan is said to have stopped at six only out of deference to the Ka'aba in Mecca that has Seven.The name Blue comes from the thousands of exquisitely patterned, handmade blue glazed ceramic tiles that adorn its interiors. The prayer area is lit up by a number of hanging chandeliers. Since it is a place of worship, visitors are expected to be "modest in dress" ( which means, no shoes ; and a head scarf for women). It encloses the tomb of its founder, a madrassa and a hospice.

The area between the Blue Mosque and Aya Sofya is maintained as a lovely (WiFi enabled) park, with rows of wooden benches for people to sit and watch the play of evening light on the beautiful mosque. When darkness falls, artificial lighting creates fantastical visions in blue, purple and orange. Fountains in the park mimic those colours adding much liveliness to the place , which always sports a festive look - throngs of people, carts vending corn, dryfruits and nuts , gaily costumed Dondurma ( local ice cream) confectioners and music from the cafes within the ancient market (called Arasta Bazar or Sipahi carsisi) nearby. At night, Dervishes start whirling in these cafes to mesmerising sufi songs.

The Hippodrome ( Sultanahmet Meydani), which was the Sports and Social Center of the Roman metropolis Constantinople , lies close to the Blue mosque and originated when the city was still the Greek Byzantium. The Romans who were pasionate about chariot racing, made this square a grand stadium similar to the famous one in Rome. But today, nothing much remains except four structures : 1. A part of a bronze "tripod" called The Serpent Coloumn, commemorating the victory of Greeks over Persians in 5 BC , brought here from Delphi, by Constantine . 2. Obelisk of Thutmosis II brought here from Luxor in 390 AD, by Theodosis. 3. The tall stone core of a 10th century structure called The Walled Obelisk which was once covered with gilded bronze plaques. 4. The German Fountain, an ornate octogonal pavilion built in 1900 to mark the German emperor's visit to Istanbul.
Egyptian Bazar ( Misir carsisi) or Spice Market : a crowded, aromatic, appetizing warren of about a hundred shops selling spice, nuts , dry fruits, sweets (Turkish Delight), teas, essential oils, dried herbs, medicinal plants, traditional drugs, traditional beauty products and organic grain. The market is covered by a high dome dates from the 17th. century.
Grand Bazar ( Kapalicarsi) , as the name suggests, is grand ! And crowded. And noisy , And bewildering too ! Dating from mid15th century, it is one of the oldest and largest covered bazars in the world. 31000sq.mts , 4000 shops, 61 avenues, 22 gates. Close to 20,000 people work here. Other than shops there are also inns, cafes, mosques and a police station within it. Suffocatingly crowded . A veritable Ali Baba Cave of goodies await fierce bargaining from tourists.

I missed visiting the The Dolmabache Palace as it was closed on the one day left of our visit. Instead, we got a chance to take a long drive to The Chora Church ( Kariye Camii), built outside the walls of Constatinople in 5 AD. It is a 6-domed byzantine shrine of modest size, but contains the most beautiful mosaics of the period , depicting various episodes from the lives of Mary and Jesus Christ. Though some parts are damaged, by and large, the colours are still pristine and the gold gilt still brilliant.
The Sircesi Gari ( Railway Terminal) built in 1890s is retained in its handsome original form and is proudly pointed out as the eastern most terminal of the legendary Orient Express. Though the Paris-Istanbul service ceased in 1977, the railway terminal's restaurant (named "Orient Express"ofcourse !) is a popular hangout among the litterati, where music and dance recitals are also held.

Footnotes:
In Turkey, generally, and in Istanbul, particularly, everyone except infants seems to smoke, all the time. Just could not escape second hand nicotine. And it was not only from the nargile ( hookah), but regular cancer sticks.

Some of the small towns we passed through had large solar panels on every single building !

Petrol and Deisel cost thrice the amount we pay in India. Yet, traffic is maddening.( Surprisingly, honking is rare.)

Intercity buses are excellent, almost like aircraft, with a purser serving snacks , drinks and blankets, individual TV screens , a pull out wash- basin at one end, sharp on- time arrival and departure .

During our visit, one day happened to be Ataturk's birthday ( 19 May) and in celebration of that, the whole nation seemed to explode in a colourburst ; huge flags and gigantic portraits of the Leader were draped over all buildings, big and small.

In any bazaar or souvenir kiosk, the same catcalls greeted us, without fail : " Aallo ! Shah Rukh Khan ! In-deeya, Chori-Chori ! " The reach of Bollywood is amazing. But just couldn't figure out the significance of "Chori Chori" !

Visiting History......4 . CAPPADOCIA

2010-06-15T15:01:00.000+05:30

It was more Moonscape or Mars-scape than landscape. In any case , it certainly looked nothing like the lush green meadows and apricot groves we had passed by, just half an hour ago. Under a severely bright blue sky, the terrain was all grey, offwhite, pink and brown. Against a backdrop of weirdly folded hill ranges, battalions of giant anthills rose up, filling the whole valley . It looked like a scene straight out of .......
"Star Wars !" Declared the Guide proudly ! " Parts of the epic movie were shot here !"
No wonder !

But the location that served as the canvas for a futuristic sci-fi movie is actually millions of eons old. All those "ant hills ", commonly called Fairy Chimneys ( technically called Hoodoos) , are the handiwork of Nature who used only wind and melted snow patiently for ages to sculpt fantastic shapes out of the prodigious quantities of TUFF ( soft rock of compacted Volcanic ash, sand and gravel ) thrown up by the ancient volcanoes, Mt. Erciyes, Mt.Hasan and Mt.Melendiz

Camp : URGUP, Nevshahir Province. Hotel : Dedeli Konagi : a boutique inn carved into the tufa, with brick and mortar construction used only for the bathrooms. A comfy cave to please the choosiest troglodyte !

Cappadocia, in Central Anatolia, is as much a place of historical importance as a geological wonder. The 1000m. high plateau between The Taurus Mountains and the Mediterranean Sea, was once known as Hatti, the seat of The Hittites and later invaded by Persians, Greeks, Armenians, Arabs and the Byzantines. The name Kapadokya denotes the beautiful horses that were bred and traded here during Hellenistic times.

Cappadocia, consisting of many small towns, is revered as an early nursery of Christianity. The spectacular volcanic rock formations around Goreme , Zelve, Uchisar, Devrent Valley, Cavusin etc. were used by early Christians to make cave dwellings and secret churches . Hundreds of caves can be seen , cut into the eerie looking "cones" and "minarets" created by erosion of the tuff. The weather being dry and cool throughout the year, the caves were used as storage houses for grain and fruit even upto modern times. Today, The Goreme Milli Parklar ( National Park) is a UNESCO World Heritage site attracting millions of visitors.

Other than rock cut dwellings, stables, warehouses etc, there are about 25 cave churches of varying ages in this area. Some have primitive wall paintings done in ochre, lime and lamp soot, while the more advanced ones have murals in vegetable pigments. One church in particular, Tokali Kilise, has beautiful murals covering every inch of the interiors. As there are no inscriptions of any kind in these shrines, they are all named for any painted object unique to the particular cave. Names like " Church of Apple", Church of Buckle", "Church of Serpent" etc.

In Uchisar , the most stunning feature is the Uchisar Castle, an enormous rock formation, with multistoried caves ! It looks like something out of Fairy Tales.

Avanos, an ancient town by The Red River, has been a center for Terra Cotta craft since 3000BC and has workshops which give educational tours about the history and techniques the place is famous for. Urns and Jars are artistically displayed all over the town and also on the banks of the River whose bed supplies the fine clay for the craft.

The best part of the Cappadocia tour was the visit to the Underground City in Kaymakli. This is the largest of the 40 underground cave cities unearthed here and goes eight floors down into the earth, each floor having dozens of "rooms", storage vaults, kitchens, stables, catacombs, shrines and community halls. ( Visitors are allowed only upto 4 floors down) All are just caves dug into the soft rock and interconnected by a series of low, narrow passages , some with false leads and blind ends ( a ruse to confuse intruders) To pass through these labyrinthine passageways and emerge successfully, we need a good guide, a good back that can withstand prolonged crouching, good sense of balance to negotiate the stepped levels in a bent-double position, and a good constitution to resist claustrophobia !
It was very interesting to see the remnants of ancient life here, like the mill stone ( the kind still in use in India !), the metal smelting platforms, blackened "stove"hollows, circular stone "doors", niches to stock barrels of fermenting wine etc. The most ingenious device : the vertical, open shafts that run through all floors from the upper ground level, with small "ducts" opening into each level. This provides the much needed ventilation .
Not much is known about these underground cities except the fact that they were first inhabited by the Hittites ( around 2000BC) and later by early Christians who escaped persecution by Romans, Arabs and Pagan invaders by "going Underground" literally ! It is said that this underground city could shelter around 5000 people comfortably !

A 3 km. walk through Devrent Valley is a pleasant exercise, both physically and mentally. The odd , fantastic shapes wrought by erosion arouses the imagination and we see a pair of camels here, a mother cuddling her baby there, Virgin Mary in prayer, a bird ready for flight , even Napoleon's Hat, all petrified into giant statues ! The beaten paths are strewn with small wild bushes bearing brilliantly coloured blooms.

PS : All that rockery and cave dwellings in Goreme brought to mind some beloved story book characters . And before we could say Yaba daba doo, what should we see but a piece of bark announcing "The Flintstones Cave Bar !"( backpackers haunt).

Visting History .. 3. . Ephesus

2010-06-05T14:06:00.000+05:30

IZMIR is the second largest port in Turkey after Istanbul and is considered one of Turkey's most vibrant cities because of its dynamism and progressive values, that include female empowerment . Throughout its history, it has attracted various kinds of foreign influx and has absorbed multifarious influences to create for itself a pan european character. Appropriately, its logo proclaims :"Rediscover Life". The old Greek name for Izmir Province was SMYRNA . Yes, the same place where Homer was born.
We did not visit places related to medieval history in this province, but headed straight to Ephesus of The Classical Period.

Camp: Kusadasi. It is a resort town, with buildings that look like freshly painted doll houses and smooth narrow roads running up and down in steep gradients along prettily done up pavements.(Hotel : Dabaklar. unusual location : bang in the middle of a green produce market , abutting the bus station! Interior ambience and amenities : quite OK.)
The ancient Greco Roman city of EPHESUS can take the better part of a day to explore. It is a city restored from salvaged ruins, giving us a good idea of what life in a Hellenistic Metro was like. By 1 BC, it was the second largest city of Imperial Roman Empire, where Education and Art were much valued and women held in great esteem.
Its patron deity was the Huntress, the Mother Goddess ARTEMIS ( aka Diana ), who had her biggest temple erected here. That magnificent Temple, famed as one of The Wonders Of The Ancient World, is today reduced to a single pillar, assembled from broken pieces, standing forlorn in an expanse of marshy grassland....... When we viewed it, a lonely stork sat atop the headless coloumn, brooding over its messy nest of black twigs.

Not all structures met such a pitiful end. The city walls, the mozaic paved boulevards, the Marble Sacred Road, the treasuries and the baths ( and lavatories ) have been put together in reasonably good order . The most impressive structure is the facade of The Library of Celsus, ( built in 125 AD) the third biggest library of the ancient world , that contained 12,000 scrolls from all parts of the "known world". Within its premises is located the tomb of St.John, the Apostle.

The other noteworthy remnants are the handsome arches of Temple of Hadrian and The Gate of Augustus.

The Amphitheatre, supposedly the largest of its time with a seating capacity of 44,000 , has an unfortunate recent history. Having bravely withstood some historical earthquakes, it reportedly suffered the collapse of a complete wing after an energetic Rock Music concert by STING staged within it a few years ago !

Among the sculptures still left in situ, is one of NIKE, in a flying posture, the very form which is supposed to have inspired the famous "whoosh" logo of the celebrated sportswear brand. (Nike's sister Tike adorns the gate of Hadrian).

The museum houses many of the larger sculptures found intact. The most impressive are the huge marble idol of Artemis and the 6ft. hand of an emperor, of whom only a de-nosed face remains. It must have been a respectable giant of a statue in its time.

The guide also pointed out to us what could be the world's oldest signpost. A marble slab showing an foot pointing the way, beside which can be seen the face of a woman and two coins. Needless to say , this graphic ad. showed the way to a brothel !

EPHESUS was an important city in the annals of Early Christianity. It is one of The Seven Churches eulogised in the book of "Revelation." The legend of 'The Seven Sleepers' ( Believers who escaped Roman persecution by sleeping in a cave for centuries) took place in this city. Paul the Apostle is said to have lived here.

The most revered site, though, is the House Of Virgin Mary, situated 7 kms away from the archeological site, atop a wonderfully cool and verdant hill, Mt.Koressos (called Bulbuldagi - Nightingale Hill- in Turkish.) It is believed that after The Crucifixion, St. John took the Mother to live in the stone house till her ascent to Heaven. Called Meryemana Evi in Turkish, the place was considered holy by early pagans as well, and later by Muslims too. It is a very peaceful and comforting place with a mountain brook gurgling by it, sprays of wild blossoms and varieties of birds and butterflies flitting around.

The present stone house is built over the original one with a russet line showing the demarcation between the ages. A very pagan custom of tying scraps of cloth and paper carrying wishes , on to trees and walls is still observed here.
I observed that tourists who are usually noisy elsewhere, automatically drop their voices to whispers here !
I just loved Meryemana.

Visiting History (and a Natural Wonder).....2

2010-06-01T14:51:00.000+05:30

While visiting historical sites, say the word ROMAN, and the word BATH suggests itself as a suffix !
All ancient Roman cities had elaborate buildings called The Public Baths, which were not merely washing up places, but popular venues for leisure and socialising. Everything from neighbourhood gossip to War Strategies were discussed here and there's no telling how many brilliant scientific and philosophical concepts were inspired by the relaxing waters of the BATH. Not content with devising cunning architectural designs for drawing up a perfect tub of bathwater, the Romans also gratefully appropriated mountain lakes and hotsprings as additional, value added baths. In PAMUKKALE, a whole city called HIERAPOLIS was raised around a set of natural hot springs that were found to be mineral rich.

PAMUKKALE,meaning COTTON CASTLE, is a natural wonder, where snow white cliffs , formed from calcarious salt deposits carried by the mountain springs, create a surreal scenery. The cliff and the valley look exactly like the glacial slopes of Alps or Himalayas, only, its not snow but calcium that gives that brilliant powdery white look. The Cotton Castle is situated in South Western Turkey, in Denzili Province and is 2700meters long, 600 meters wide and about 160 meters above road level.

The central canyon, termed the travertine( a sedimentary rock formation), has breathtakingly beautiful deposits of hardened calcium carbonate that resemble tier upon tier of shallow white troughs. Within the basins are sheets of water, fresh, crystalline blue in colour.

This area sees a lot of geothermal activity and according to our Guide, low intensity tremors that cannot be felt by humans, occur on a daily basis ! Long craggy ditches, in which cool streams of water gush down are creations of stronger quakes.
Great crowds mill around the canyon wading in the cold shallow pools and frolicking on the white " false snow". And shutterbugs go crazy ! Needless to add, this scenic spot is becoming a hot favourite among our moviemakers for shooting romantic songs !

A little way up the canyon, at the edge of the ancient city of Hierapolis is an enclosed plaza with Hot Springs where swimming is allowed against a fee. It is called "Cleopatra's Pool". But there is no charm here, as it is completely rebuilt and looks like a modern heated swimming pool, the the water is from natural hotsprings . We can only imagine how it would have looked in Roman times.
The city of Hierapolis ( first built in 2 BC, rebuilt in 20AD) is mostly rubble, except for the amphitheater, and we have to trust the Guide when he points to ruin after ruin , naming them Basilica or stoa or Agora. The city was inhabited upto the 13th. century, when it was abandoned after a devastating earthquake.
The most interesting place in Hierapolis seems to have been a cave called PLUTONIUM, dedicated to Pluto, god of the Netherworld. Carbondioxide given off by geothermal activity , issued from a fissure inside the cave, killing off anyone who dared to enter it. Only the Eunuch Priests, who had found a way not to inhale the gas, were immune to it and were hence considered magical Oracles. The oracular Cult of Cybele ( = Gaia, Rhea, Earth Goddess) flourished here till early Christians shut it down.

Pamukkale - Hierapolis is a "World Heritage Site" ( from 1988)

Visiting History . 1- Antalya

2010-05-23T13:57:00.000+05:30

14 May - 20 May 2010

ANATOLIA, a vast geographical region covering most of today's Republic of Turkey, gets its name from an old Greek word referring to Sunrise and was designated the status of Asia Minor. A region rich in history ; where three important religions were nurtured ; a fertile ecozone serially inhabited by great civilizations like the Hittites,Phrygians,Achemenids, Greek, Armenian, Roman, Seljuks and Ottomans who have all left their mark in the development of world civilization as a whole.
In today's political map, Anatolia lies partly in Europe and partly in Asia and is surrounded on three sides by the ancient waters of the Aegean, the Mediterranean and The Black Sea.
Many ruins of historical value lie scattered around, relating the hoary legends and myths of heroes who populated the story books of childhood days.
For a history nut like me, a trip around Anatolia was a rich feast.

Camp Antalya : (Hotel Cender: Excellent ocean view, decent rates, average amenities.)
ANTALYA, a very pretty city situated on the Mediterranean coast,in South West Anatolia, bustling with colourful open markets, cool boulevards , antique houses and apricot orchards, plays host to swarms of tourists who number more than the native population of around seven lakhs. From here, we took tours to the PERGE ANTIQUE SITE where the whole ancient capital of Pamphylia,( Founded in 1500 BC, by Hittites), named Perga in Greek, complete with City Gates, Nympheum, Roman Bath, Colonnaded Main Street , Aqueducts, the Agora and the Stadium has been excavated. The remains are preserved as an open air museum. Work is still on.The more important free standing sculptures, though, have migrated to museums in the western world, thanks to the early imperial archeologists ! The city must have been full of Stoa ( Colonnaded, covered avenues) Hundreds of coloumns can be seen, standing, fallen, broken , buried or restored. By a unique sponsorship scheme, anyone who donates money for the ongoing excavation work will have her name engraved under one of the coloumns she helped raise up . Good chance to become immortal !
We got very detailed history lessons from our enthusiastic guide, an archeology graduate. He taught us to differentiate architectural styles, to surmise the age of structures and to identify Greek and Roman gods by their attributes. His inspired commentary made the awesome coloumns and arches spring to life , and, as the cool (19*C) gusts of strong breeze whistled around the ancient lanes, I sat for a while on a marble pediment transported to 333BC when Alexander camped here.And imagined Apollonius, student of Archimedes,broadcasting his pathbreaking findings in Geometry in the Agora. And saw the slaves preparing the bath water by controlling the water flow from The Frigidarium ( Cold) and The Tepidarium (hot).

The stadium is in poor condition here, but in the neighbouring Pamphilian city of Aspendos, we saw the best preserved amphitheatre from antiquity.It is stupendous! 315 ft. in diameter, seating capacity 7000. There are 58 post holes to hold masts for an awning ( Velarium) over the spectators. Accoustics are perfect. This stadium, built in 155 AD.during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, continued to be used as a caravanserai and then, till recently, as a concert hall and sports stadium. Only after some damage was noticed, the stadium was retired from active use and made a museum piece . Since 1994, only two events are held here : The Turkish National and The International Ballet and Opera Concerts.
Aspendos was one of the first cities to mint coins : Staters and drachmas. Souvenir shops sell fake coins stamped out of recycled coca-cola caps.

SIDE ( pronounced Si-day), another Pamphilian city, close to Aspendos but its traditional rival,once held by Alexander and later by Ptolemy I, was an extremely prosperous community on the coast,which had near monopoly on slave trade in the region. Being autonomous, it became a cultural capital with a theatre and acropolis to rival the best of antiquity, but which are a pile of rubble today. The City walls, the agora, the cobbled lanes are relatively in good shape, though the pride of the place, The Apollonium is only a square plinth with five colossal marble pillars standing by the sea. Side is still alive because the modern town has grown within and around the ruins. You can squat on a 2000 year old carved marble lintel and enjoy a cone of Dondurma ( Turkish icecream) by the wharf, as a Shakira number wafts from a Coffee shop

If you kick the grey dust underfoot, you can turn up shards of Hellenistic amphorae, but it is forbidden to take away any such souvenirs. I held a piece of history in my hand for 10 minutes and then tossed it into the sea.

From Text Book to Pagoda

2010-05-06T22:41:00.000+05:30

Has any primary school child in our country ever escaped the travails of getting right the spelling and pronunciation of the famous Chinese name that has been popping up without fail in all history text books since British times ? Huen Tsang . Hyuin Zang . Hsien Tsiang etc etc.
From Nalanda to Mauryan cities to Deccani civilization, most of what we know bear the stamp of veracity, because this ubiquitous Tang Dynasty Monk from China made meticulous notes about whatever he saw on his visit to India.
When I learnt that The Wild Goose Pagoda in Shaanxi province ( China ) listed in our itinerary is a monument to that amazing textbook character, Huein Tsang, I was thrilled !

It is not known what his parents named him, but he was known as Xuan Zang ( meaning, The Venerable Tang Monk) which later got twisted on different tongues as Huen Tsang, Hyien Sang etc. Ordained into monkhood at the tender age of 13 , he was inspired by Fa-Hian's visit to India and made it his mission to travel to that sacred land to unearth the True Scriptures of Buddhism , so that his people would have the correct interpretation of what the Buddha taught. His 16 year sojourn in India ( 629 AD -645 AD) was faithfully recorded as an autobiography and it became the basis for the much loved, monumental Chinese epic " Journey To The West " authored by the Ming scholar Wu Cheng'en in 1590s. Xuan Zang died in 664 AD in Chang'an ( now Xian), but continues to be revered , as the lovable and ever popular characters from the above epic come alive in various performing arts to this day. The best known character from that epic is the Monkey King, Sun Wukong, a staple in all Opera shows.

In 652 AD, a Five Tiered pagoda with a cloister was built by Xuan Zhang's patron dynasty to house the Sutras, Relics and holy figurines Xuan Zang had brought back from India. Damaged and rebuilt many times over, this shrine is now a 210 ft. tall, seven tiered brick pagoda surrounded by a magnificent garden and plaza. The place is called The Temple of Grace ( Da Ci'en) . A massive bronze figure of Xuan Zang stands in front of the temple, sceptre in hand, robes billowing as he strikes a pose of benediction. At the entrance of the temple are The Drum Tower and The Bell Tower housing a 15 ton iron bell crafted in 1548.
Inside the shrine, the first hall, The Hall of Mahavira, has the figures of the three buddhas, 18 Arhats and of Xuan Zang. Beyond this is The Sermon Hall, serving as a room for prayers and learning. The Hall of Xuan Zang Sanzang displays the relics and collections of the venerated monk. The story of his Indian trip is chiselled in bas relief all around the walls. I was so happy to discover likenesses of Indian temples , rishis and saree clad ladies among the artworks !

The pagoda is a simple angular structure, without any ornamental work on its outer surface. Upon payment of 20 yuan, one is allowed to enter and climb the pagoda ; each landing of which has many historical items displayed . Level 7 sports a Lotus Ceiling which is inscribed with characters which can be read in many different ways to make different poems. There is also a page written by Xuan Zang which details the craft of Indian Temple builders. It is generally believed that the design of The Wild Goose Pagoda was borrowed from Indian religious architecture.

One doorway has a lintel covered with autographs of generations of meritorious scholars who passed out of the hallowed Academy. To have one's name on that doorway was considered a great honour and pinnacle of Recognition.

The North Square by the pagoda is a sprawling ( 110,000sq.ft) landscaped parkland with ponds, 22 sets of musical fountains, 8 groups of sculptures , and a Tang themed piazza. Exhibits of Tang culture are housed in the museum rooms adjoining the shrine. I believe the North Square holds the World Record for having the most number of park benches !!!

All visitors are bound to be curious about the name "Wild Goose" . The story goes that when some poor monks, belonging to a branch of buddhism that ate flesh, could not find any meat one day, they prayed to Bodhisattva. Whereupon, a huge plump goose from a flock flying overhead just fell off the sky into their kitchen . The bird's cruel end startled the monks so much that they built the pagoda in atonement and turned vegetarian.
About 8kms away, there is a smaller and humbler shrine called The Little Goose Pagoda, which however does not have any goose incident in its history but was named so only to distinguish it from the other structure !

The parkland is a lovely place to spend an evening and the museum is very educative. In one of the rooms , life size mannequins in Tang costumes are installed in the setting of a royal household. Among the many Concubines, some are seen sporting red bindi-dots on their foreheads. Our guide pointed to mine and gave a little giggle . It transpired that the red dot signified availability and the Emperor could choose his consort for the night only from among the dotted Ladies.

In a bulletin board along one of the park's avenues , we saw many photographs , old and new,of famous people who visited the Pagoda . Among them, one showing our ex-prez KR Narayanan !

The Amazing Army of Qin Shi Huang

2010-03-23T14:21:00.000+05:30

China was high on my Must-See list, mainly because I wanted to see The Subterranean Army of The Terra Cotta Soldiers in Xian.

Year 1974. I remember being zapped by a news item in our papers about an amazing archeological find. Three farmers of Lintong County in Shhanxi, had unearthed a life size terracotta figure of a warrior , broken but with all parts intact, while digging a well. Intrigued, they had turned it over to the state officials. In no time at all, archeologists started excavating and discovered what was long rumoured, in ancient writings, to be underground, but never before found - a vast subterranean vault teeming with whole battalions of warriors, horses, officials, musicians and acrobats, all lined up in formations in honour of Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor of China, who had died.
The age of this Necropolis was established as 250 BC. Today it is a UNESCO notified World Heritage Site .

When we started planning a trip to China, the only place I was very keen on visiting was Xian, the district capital of Shaanxi, the nearest city to the site.

Down the years since the tomb was first exposed, many excavations have taken place( and still continuing) . Some 400 pits with 50,000 artefacts of cultural importance have been unearthed so far in an area of 56 Sq.Km.at the foot of The Lishan Mountains.
Three "pits" ( with approximately 8000 figures) have been converted into museums , in a well protected layout, far from any traffic or urban sprawl. The parking lot and ticketing counter are a kilometer away from the "pits". Visitors are driven to the site in special buggies.
The Museum area is airy and beautifully landscaped; the domed buildings protecting the pits are of spartan, utilitarian design and maintained in spic and span condition. The first hall is a circarama movie theatre, where the glory of the Emperor's reign is projected on a 360 degree screen, with surround sound. Though the commentary is a bit muffled, the total effect is stunning and prepares one to enter the pits in suitable awe and respect !

Pit 1 is the largest and the most magnificent of the three. Row upon row of soldiers stand in readiness in trenches, all life sized and each one a very definite INDIVIDUAL, with his own individual features, expression and hairstyle. Some show remnants of the ancient paint that had once made them lifelike.The sheer numbers and variety leave one reeling in amazement.

Visitors cannot get too close to the warriors, but can walk on a viewing ramp that runs all around the pit. Lighting is dim, but the place is ablaze with the flashes of a hundred cameras, at any given point of time. It helped to have a guide with us, for without her help, we would have missed many a finer detail.
After Pit 1, Pit 2 and 3 appear rather small, sparse and unexciting. Here, a few excellent specimens ( soldiers, carts, weapons) are exhibited in glass cases so that we can have a closer view from all angles of the wonderful works of art. Pit 3 , still being excavated, serves as a stage-by-stage manual to the process of excavating ruins. Reportedly, bones of some ancient grave robbers were also found here.

The Museum Shop, selling souvenirs and refreshments, is always crowded because, here sits a wizened old man who is one of the three farmers who first discovered the Terra Cotta Army. He is also an exhibit ! His function is only to sign the picture book bought from the souvenir shop, for which sole purpose, the illiterate man was reportedly taught writing ! He does not smile or speak and photographing him is strictly prohibited.

Outside the museum premises, there's a huge village fair of shacks selling Terra cotta warrior and horse figures of all sizes at dirt cheap prices. And they are ready to concede to bargaining too ! You come away feeling sorry for the salesmen.
One buy we really enjoyed was Persimmon fruit, packed in bright pink plastic baskets. They were so delicious ! Since the fruit perishes very fast, we got 2 baskets of it free with the purchase of one , which too was bought almost for a song!

The visit to the Terra Cotta Army is an unforgettable experience.

( photo quality not good due to insufficient lighting )

Chinese "Chakkar" !

2010-02-20T22:29:00.000+05:30

The Chinese New Year was ushered in recently ; with the usual pomp and pagentry, no doubt, in all "chinatowns" scattered across the globe. Having lived in the Far East, I have always loved the spirit of joy and merriment that erupts among the sizeable Chinese communities there. This is the season when the Markets turn red . Red + gold baubles , amazing varieties of the red "Chinese Sweet Box",( a speciality gift for the season ) and the red Hong Bao,( pretty little envelopes used for gifting money to children) . Its the season of firecrackers and dragon dances , Fruit preserves and rice cakes. China was always linked mentally with images of courtly mandarins, gong and drum sounds and celestial dancers in flowing, billowing silk robes.
But in reality, China today is something quite different altogether , as I discovered on a trip, three years ago.

Beijing was a stunner . The modern metropolis that has risen out of , what in early 20th. century was just a cluster of benighted hutongs , is a marvel of urban planing and engineering. The more I saw of it, the more I was filled with envy, frustration and anger - why is even a tenth of such efficient infrastructure not seen in our country ? China has all the shortcomings we do,huge population, illiteracy, poverty everything, yet cities to rival any rich, capitalist state in the developed west have come up there. Yes, I know such magnificence was achieved only by trampling upon Human Rights and Democratic systems. But there is no denying that there was steely Political Will and public co-operation , to achieve ( and maintain) it.

Since our stay in Beijing was only for three days, we had to cram in as much of sightseeing as possible into it. Given that each place of historic importance is so VAST , we almost wore out our legs ambling around at a frenetic pace.
The Great Wall is truly Great ! A view from a vantage point reveals the breath taking visual of the endlessly snaking wall draped over the ridges of the endless mountain ranges ; it is a sight that leaves one slack jawed in wonder at the ambition and industry of those ancient warlords . We approached the Wall at the very touristy Badaling Section. A place packed with suffocatingly dense tourist crowds !

The Forbidden City ( Zijing Chen) does look forbidding ! It is an incredibly huge expanse, now under the management of The Palace Museum. To eyes used to ornate decorations in our Palaces, this nerve centre of the Ming and Qing Dynasties looks rather plain. The emphasis is more on vast open spaces, beautiful gardens and well proportioned wooden halls. The total area is 72 Hectares , containing 980 buildings. It is the largest collection of ancient wooden structures in the world and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We pass through various gates with charming names like Gate of Divine Might, Gate of Supreme Harmony etc, squeeze through crowds to have a peep into Halls named Court of Heavenly Purity , Palace of Earthly Purity, Hall of Mental Cultivation etc. within which are displayed thrones, urns, cushions and other royal paraphernalia . There are some exquisitely carved marble balustrades and relief panels, wonderfully glazed roof tiles, smooth wooden coloumns of respectable size and many locked buildings. And huge crowds everywhere ! A wall called The Nine Dragons Screen and the gilded lions guarding the stairways are much photographed.

The South Gate( The Gate Of Heavenly Peace) opens to the famous or infamous Tiananmen Square, the largest square in the world, lined by Mao's Mausoleum, People's Heroes Monument, The Great Hall of The People and The National Museum. All of which looked, to me, very stiff, sterile and purely ceremonial.

The Ming Tombs,( 50kms. out of Beijing) an awesome Royal Necropolis where 13 Ming kings are entombed, is a valley at the foot of the sacred Tianshou Mountain and is supposed to enjoy excellent feng shui attributes. Of the 13 tombs only 3 ( Changling, Dingling and Zhaoling ) are open to public. A seven kilometer Spirits Way ( or Sacred Way) lined with monumental stone sculptures of animals and mandarins leads to the main tombs. There is also a museum exhibiting the exquisite personal effects of those dead Mings. Among them, the Gold filigreed helmets, jewelled crowns and gold embroidered robes are awesome .The sarcophagus of the main tomb lies five stories deep down the earth and the descent by a cold gray stairway seems like a never ending bad dream ! Needless to add, strong legs are a prerequisite for touring the Ming Tombs !

The Lama Temple ( The Yonghe Lamasery) is a living Tibetan Buddhist monastery, one of the largest in the world and dates from the 17th . Century. Surprisingly it survived the Cultural Revolution and was thrown open to tourists in 1981. After passing through beautifully carved gateways and pavilions,the first of which is called The Devaraja Pavilion, we arrive at the Main Hall of Harmony and Peace which houses the three Buddhas of Past, Present and Future. In the second stage is a curious structure called Arhat Hill which has 500 metal figures of Arhats . The last pavilion contains an enormous Maitreya. Shops selling incence and jade amulets line the passageways leading the Pavilions.

The Temple Of Heaven : This is the monument that I liked the most in Beijing . Also of Ming vintage, it is larger in area than the Forbidden City. It is built as the meeting point of Heaven and Earth, represented as circle and square respectively. All structures bear poetic names like Imperial Vault of Heaven, The Vermillion steps, Prayer for Good Harvest etc. The Three Echo Stones are built with acoustic properties to throw the voice to The Vault of Heaven and receive one, two and three echos depending on position . Guides urge people to stand on the center point of the mound ( said to be the point where Heavens meet Earth) and utter a prayer so that it will be transmitted to heaven directly ! We said the Gayathri Mantra.
We had to give up The Summer Palace for lack of time, as we did not want to miss the two famous enjoyments China offers : Cultural Shows and Shopping !
We took a show of Chinese Acrobatics instead of the more famous Beijing Opera, which was priced a tad too high for our wallet. The Acrobatic show was incredible. Unimaginable, how human bodies can be contorted ! The show also included a nymph dance and the popular Bian Lian Dance, where the dancer's mask changes , magically,in the twinkling of the eye, into 8 or 10 different kinds in succession.

Shopping : Say Chinese, and pirated goods spring to mind. In Beijing, I was astonished to see that pirated ware is sold openly, brazenly, in a glitzy 5 storied Mall called Silk Street.There are 1700 retail outlets here, all selling counterfeit ! There's nothing and no Designer Brand you cannot get here ! We saw some Eastern Europeans lugging huge suitcases and clearing off whole shelves of merchandise for marketing back home. The most endearing part of shopping here is the bargaining ritual. Almost all shops are manned by young girls who can manage a bit of accented English. But they put up such theatrics before agreeing to our price, with dialogues like :" Only for you because I like your face", " Don't break my heart, you cannot make it less !" , " I am going to die , you make me broke !" Hilarious ! Silk Street can drive even the most steadfast shopping- hater insanely acquisitive .

Communication at street level is a big problem in China. Except for the Hotel Reception Desk and Tour Agents, no one else seemed to know even a smattering of English. Everytime we stepped out of the Hotel, we took detailed instructions about destination and fares, written down in their script ( thanks to the Front Desk) to show to the taxi drivers for both onward and return journeys. Once , while on the main road, we wanted to stop at a convenience store to buy some snacks but try as we might, with all sorts of gestures , the cabbie failed to understand us and just kept driving on with a bemused look !

Having come to China, how could we forget Pandas ? Visited Beijing Zoo only to see the Pandas. There were five of them . Huge, slothful fellows who hardly stirred from their chosen nooks. They looked larger than I'd imagined and less cute- cuddly. In fact when one of them condescended to turn his head to look at us, his face seemed faintly sinister ! The Zoo, as a whole, was not all that wonderful except for certain landscaped patches.
( All photographs : By Daughter )

A Library to marvel at

2010-01-28T15:42:00.000+05:30

Year 2010 marks the 1000th. anniversary of the consecration of Rajarajaeshwaram, the magnificent temple built by the much lionised, much adored King Rajaraja Chozhan who had brought unprecedented expanses of land ( Orissa to SriLanka and beyond the sea upto Cambodia ) under his reign , between 985 and 1014 CE.

Rajarajeshwaram, also called Peruvudayarkoil , Brihadeeshwaram or simply, Periyakovil ( Big Temple) , the crown jewel of Thanjavur, pride of the Chozhas, has the distinction of being the world's first fully granite temple. It is built without mortar, with a system of interlocking slabs. Situated within a huge fortress , the temple complex, containing many shrines of different periods, is listed as one of the three architectural wonders that constitute the " Great Living Chola Temples ,UNESCO World Heritage Site " ( the other two, also in the same district, are Gangaikondachozhapuram and Darasuram). The massive Vimana ( 216 ft. tall) with the amazing capstone is a well recognised example of the dravidian style of temple architecture.
Thanjavur, the capital of the Chozha land, is a district in today's political map of Tamil Nadu and considered the Rice Bowl of the state, as it lies in the fertile Kaveri Delta . The HQ of the district is of course Thanjavur city.

Thanjavur is a lively town which always looks chaotic ! It resembles a perpetual fair ! Trying to locate an address can hurtle one into a bewildering jumble of narrow lanes, crowded squares , unkempt gardens, ancient doorways and modern blue glass buildings, all strewn about in haphazard fashion .If any town planning was ever done, it's certainly not evident !
The central piece is no doubt the "Big Temple", to do justice to which one would need ,at the very least, three whole days. "Big" it really is in all aspects ! Rich in sculpture, murals and inscriptions, the well maintained temple attracts thousands of pilgrims and lay visitors. Contrary to the popular myth, the 80-ton capstone is not a monolith, but, as Archeologists now agree, a composite. Another myth is that the shadow of the capstone never falls on the ground.

The temple was in a constant mode of extension and rebuilding through the ages, as it changed hands from Chozhas to the Pandyans, the Vijayanagar Empire, the Madurai Nayakas, The Thanjavur Nayaks, the Thanjavur Marathas and the British successively. Consequently, the sculptures and murals too show differences in style and content.

A couple of kilometers away from the Big Temple, stands The Fort complex built by the Madurai Nayakas in 1550 and modified by the Marattas. This complex called The Sivaganga Fort, contains The Royal Palace, museums, theArt Gallery, Sangeeth Mahal, Saraswathi Mahal and Shwartz church.
The RoyalPalace fascinates with its high ceilinged halls and wonderful, intricate stucco decorations. Its 190-ft. tall arsenal tower, called Koodagopuram, is a peculiar structure that looms above the museum halls which house the collections and memorabilia of the Maratta rulers, particularly, the much loved Raja Serfoji II. Beside it is the Sangeeth Mahal a great experiment in acoustic engineering, where a pool of water is used to reflect sound.
The Art Gallery, housed in the Maratta Durbar Hall is a treasure house of Chozha Bronzes which captivate with their unbelievable intricacy and loveliness.
Shwartz church, near the Fort Tank, is a modest edifice built by Serfoji for his Teacher, the Danish Missionary, Rev. Shwartz.

My most fav. haunt in Thanjavur is The Saraswathi Mahal Library .It is one of the very few medieval libraries still existing in the world. Started by the Thanjavur Nayakas in 1535 CE as a repository of royal manuscripts, the library was nourished and developed by the Marathas who captured Thanjavur in 1675. King Serfoji II, a multilinguist and patron of arts and sciences, added a great collection of French, English,German, Danish and Arabic manuscripts and publications to the existing treasures in Sanskrit, Hindi, Persian, Urdu, Telugu, Tamil ,Marathi and Manipravalam. A rough estimate says, the library contains 40,000 manuscripts on palm leaf, paper folio, cloth, bark and leather, and 4500 books in all languages. And this is the manuscript division alone. There are other divisions like Art( Painting , Drawings,engravings) and Cartography. Some curios found here : a mini palm leaf book ( 3" X 1") ; a commentary on Advaitha written in 1468 on thin handmade paper ; reverse written couplets ( i.e. filling up ink on a sheet leaving out the letters in white !), the complete Valmiki Ramayana written on a set of 9" long palm leaves, with letters so small that a magnifying glass is needed to see them ; a 40 ft. long painting showing the Ghats of Varanasi . And some pills, kept with the medical books , made for Serfoji, with the name of the drug and year of manufacture embossed on each pill !
The library has departments dedicated to publication, conservation, reprography ( micro-filming) , cataloging, Transcribing and Transliteration, and Consultancy by Experts and photocopy facilities( for bonafide researchers only) .
This library is like Ali Baba's cave to anyone who loves the written word ! No wonder at all that it was labelled by Encyclopedia Brittanica's Survey of World Libraries as "the most remarkable library in India" !

At the Eastern gate of the fort stands a HUGE cannon named Rajagopala Beerangi. Manufactured during the reign of Regunatha Nayak ( 1600 -1645), this canon is the fourth largest Forge Welded Iron Cannon in the world. 25 ft. long, weighing 22 tons. Inner diameter of the barrel is 22 inches. Capable of firing a 1000kg, cannon ball. And of course, it never rusts. It is a marvel of medieval Indian metallurgy.
In addition to these , certain modern day "attractions" are also pointed out to visitors by the ever friendly citizens. There are some memorials for Rajarajan , for Tholkappiyam ( the earliest Tamil Grammar treatise) etc. which, in my personal view, are poor gilt for the ancient riches.

"Thanjavur" has lent its name to a whole raft of specialities. The "Thanjavur Bani" in classical music and dance is the pure, unaltered traditional variety. Of musicals instruments, the Veena and the Mridangam are native to this place. "Thanjavur Painting" is the highly ornate craft of decorating devotional paintings with gold foil and gems. The name"Thanjavur Work" denotes utility objects decorated with mirror and coloured glass pieces and golden foil. "Thanjavur Plates "are large copper or brass salvers embellished with finely tooled, raised, silver motifs.
"Thanjavur Bommai" is the name given to bobble- head clay dolls and dancing dolls that have springs in the neck and waist to enable swaying movement. The term is also used as a metaphor for spineless yes-men ! Another kind of Thanjavur Doll is the non-toppling one ( clay) with heavy rounded base. "Thanjavur Kadambam" is the marvelously fragrant lengths of closely strung jasmines interspersed with certain aromatic leaves . "Thanjavur Marathi" is a dialect of Marathi, quite different from the language spoken in Maharashtra today. It is spoken among descendents of the the Marattas who followed Venkoji ( Chatrapathi Shivaji's half brother) to settle in Thanjavur when he became an independent king of this region. It is doubtful if Thanjavur Marathi and Mumbai Marathi are mutually comprehensible !

DAY 3 - Wah ! Vatapi !

2010-01-12T21:31:00.000+05:30

" Its just like the gorges of Grand Canyon, abridged! " Said one.
" Its just like the gorges of Petra, scaled down ! " said the other.
" Its just gorgeous ! " said I , slack jawed, "and just like the Vatapi i'd always imagined ! "

We were standing on a flat rock, hedged in by GIGANTIC, craggy cliffs on all sides, catching our breath before tackling the next fleet of steps leading to the pavilion called The Lower Shivalaya.
Carved into the rockface at the very base of the red sandstone massif on our left was a tiny Hanuman in bas relief, smeared with turmeric and vermillion and perfumed by a bunch of dying agarbattis. Traditionally, Hanuman is a guardian of wayfarers. Considering that the whole valley is overrun by armies of marauding monkeys, its always useful to be in the good books of the Big Boss. We dutifully uttered our prayers and proceeded left towards a lovely stone gateway heralding the Shivalaya. Another fleet of steps ran off right, towards a ravine from where ascended steeper steps to The Upper Shivalaya, perched somewhere high above.

Behind the lower shrine, mounted on the rampart of a fortress that runs all along the cliffs, was an old canon with the Western date 1558 inscribed on it . Tipu Sultan , who built that fort wall in the 18th century, could have put it there. Or, later, the British . Can only guess. The natural fortress of the rocks has attracted all warlords down the ages, and certainly this was the USP that influenced Pulakesi I to establish the seat of his empire in Badami aka Vatapi in 540 AD.

The lofty massed boulders looming all around made the magical myth of Vatapi-Ilvala-Agasthya seem quite true.
Inside my head, a tune flowed : "Vatapi Ganapatim bhaje". A popular Carnatic invocatory krithi in raga Hamsadhwani . Long ago, as a child, I had seen Vatapi Ganapathi in the Tiruchenkatankudi temple in farway Thanjavur district. He had been carried off from Vatapi as a trophy by the Pallavas, who had sacked the mighty Chalukyas after many attempts. The Pallava hold lasted only 12 years before Vikramaditya I regained Badami for the Chalukyas. (But the Ganapthi remained an expatriate). 45 years after meeting Him in the Tamil Nadu temple, i got to visit his native place - Vatapi or Badami !
A sudden commotion silenced the song in my head. Children, monkeys and parrots were all screeching together in a bizarre medley of terror and excitement. A troop of wily monkeys had snatched a big plastic bag from a kid, strewing books, papers,pencils and snack wrappers behind them as they leapt up an inaccessible ledge. There, they proceeded to stuff their cheek pouches greedily with all the picnic goodies , even as the cheated schoolkids tried out various scare tactics to bully them. The accompanying teacher, a thin young man, kept hollering " sealsealsealseal !" Apparently, an all important rubber stamp had been purloined by the rogues on the rock ! We moved on without finding out why a school seal was brought on excursion or if it was regained.

In contrast to such high drama on the hill, the atmosphere at the Bhoothnath Temple complex, bordering the Agasthya Theertha lake had been supremely peaceful that morning. As we were early, we had beaten the crowds and had the whole place to ourselves for a while. A veil of dawn mist still hung over the emerald water upon which the young sun had scattered shimmering sequins of light. A group of women washed clothes on the stone steps under an ancient peepal tree. The Boothnath Temple with its ringed pillars and placid Nandi, was cool, serene and peaceful . I could have sat there contemplating the beautiful valley all day long...........

The excited shrieks of busloads of school kids running wild among the Mena Basadi caves reached dimly across the water. We felt smug and satisfied that we had visited the caves early on, as soon as the ticket counter opened ( 6.30 am) and had had ample time to soak in the beauty of the vistas from above and to peacefully savour each and every detail of the wonderfully elegant and majestic rock cut cave temples. Four cut caves in all ( plus one natural cave with a superficial carving of a figure, thought to be Buddhist.) Three caves have Hindu gods, while the last is a Jain shrine with figures of Parshwanatha, Bahubali and Mahavira. They are dated between the 6 and 8 AD., the Shaiva cave ( Cave I) being the oldest. Unlike some of the later Kalyani Chalukyas, the earlier Western Chalukyas were secular and tolerant of different faiths.
The Cave Temples are cut into red sandstone which displays pink and russet striations ; these markings contribute a strange textured look to the smooth finished sculptures. Such exquisite pillars ! And what a grand array of noble figures ! Nataraja, VijayaNarasimha ( a laughing hero !) , Trivikrama, MahaVishnu, Harihara, Durga, Varaha, Thirtankaras.......all so powerful , beautiful, larger than life.
The much publicised, much photographed Nataraja with 18 hands ( above) , did not disappoint. Though he was a bit smaller than the giant i had imagined, the sculpture was, nevertheless, a marvel of dynamic action. Of the 9 pairs of hands, any two ( of different permutation and combination) taken together would illustrate a particular pose from Natya Shastra. On the whole , 108 hand positions are delineated here.

In the museum we had seen a reproduction on paper of the frescoes found in Cave III showing many lovely figures and scenes painted in the Ajanta style. This reproduction was done in 1974. But now, all that was left of it to be seen in the cave were two faded faces and six smudges of green and white organic pigment. I felt like crying !

Beyond the Boothnath temple rises a hillock green with shrubbery , alive with the gurgling of small cataracts that feed rain water into the lake. On one inaccessible slope of this hill are planted some modern multi coloured cement dolls in a tableau recreating Chalukyan times. Tacky !

The facade of the museum that stands at the foot of the northern hills, blends well with the rocks. Among the exhibits, two are striking. One is a huge ornate Thorana and the other, a graphic, prone figure of a fertlity goddess named Lajja Gauri, who has a lotus in place of a head. Her cult is unique and widespread in this ( Bagalkot) region.
In a cliff behind the museum is an inscription, in" tripadi" verse, called Kappe Arabatta Shasana done in the 7th. century. The oldest of example of versification found in kannada . Thrilled to see it, but still wondering why anyone would want to be known as Kappe - frog !

Having read in a guide book that there are some dolmens and prehistoric cave drawings in a place called Ranganatha Betta, we were very eager to see it . And we kept quizzing, with sleuthing zeal, everyone who looked even remotely like informants. We gathered the 'valuable' info. that the said Betta was either on the right or the left of Mena Basadi, with the possibility that it could also be towards the north or south of Badami ! So much for the location. What of the prehistoric art ? Some said there was no painting in the caves of Ranganatha Betta. Some said there was no cave in Ranganath Betta . Some said there was no Ranganatha Betta. Mission aborted .

A few asides:
* One quibble : The first thing i noticed upon entering Badami Town was the profusion of pigs. Too many. All over the place. In fact, when the Chalukyan Lanchana ( seal) was first pointed out, i thought i had started seeing things. The main motif on it was the boar !

* One object that caught my fancy : the Tractor. Without exception, all tractors in town were done up in bridal finery, dripping tassles and tinsel and plastic flowers. Like mobile Xmas trees.

* One observation : Little kids tag along visitors offering to " show them around" for " 10 rupees only". It was amusing to see a lad ( about 12) teaching an younger one ( about 7 ) to parrot a line straight out of some history text book. Considering that there are enough sign boards all over, giving exhaustive info. about the sites, and that no visitor was taking the kids seriously, i wonder why they keep persisting .

*One thought : The road( an apology ) leading to the Museum from the Caves, runs through a crowded bustling locality where children and cattle keep bounding about helter skelter and women put out clothes, grains and condiments to dry on the road. There's such a melee everytime a vehicle passes. Shouldn't there be a restriction on tourist vehicular traffic along such residential areas ? It must be such a bothersome intrusion for those citizens.

* One discovery : Badami is very popular with Rock Climbing and Bouldering enthusiasts ; there's a Rock Climbing Training Centre run by Gen. Thimmayya National Academy of Adventure ( GETHNAA) on Banashankari Road, on the outskirts of Badami Town.

* One added attraction : Had a fill of the local speciality "Karadantu", a widely advertised , tasty, nutritious fudge made of dry fruits, nuts and poppy seeds.

( photographs by Son and Nephew)

----------------------
Factfile :
Distances : Bangalore - Badami : 510kms., Badami - Gadag : 65Km , Badami- Aihole : 35 km, Aihole - Pattadakal : 12 Km.

Accomodation : Badami Town.

Transport :
Yashwantpur - Bijapur Express Train stops at Badami Station for 2 mins.
KSTDC has overnight Volvo- bus service, also tour packages.
Nearest Airport : Belgaum ( 150 km)

Group of Monuments,Pattadakal is UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Taxis, 5- seater Autorickshaws, horse buggies, motorbikes and bicycles can be hired in Badami Town.

Day 2 - Nursery of Styles

2010-01-05T21:50:00.000+05:30

Pic 1. Aihole Durga( Fort) Temple
Parashurama washed his bloodied axe in the river after his genocidal agenda of revenge and the waters ran a fiery red. If the Malaprabha is still running red, it is because of the silt and slush washed into it by the recent floods. We did not have time to stop by it and cry out " Ai ! Holey !" ( oh the river !) as a mythical lady is fabled to have done, spooked by the sight of all that blood. But there were ample occasion that day for us to go "ooh ! " and "aah" repeatedly as we visited temple upon temple upon temple.....till we were so "templed" out that even the rolled up Dosa on the dinner table started looking like a fallen dwaja-sthamba !
pic 2 :Dravida Vimana

Though the riverbed has fostered settlements from paleolithic times and been a possession of ancient dynasties like Mauryas, Kadambas etc, it was only under the Western Chalukyas that it flowered fully into a place of excellence, becoming a crucible for path breaking experiments in religious architecture and decorative art. ( 6th. to 12th. Cent) It is from here that various building styles spread to other places, both north and south of the Vindhyas. It is like a text book on the history and evolution of temple building . The Aihole Artisans collected all the features prevailing at that time ( the curving roof from the north, the pillared halls from the south,the angled eaves from the East, Deccani balconies) , modified and blended them to finally evolve two distinct styles called The" Rekha Nagara Prasada" and "Dravida Vimana Shaili" which were later adopted as the signature style of The North and The South respectively. Typical of Chalukyan style was the skillful assembly of dressed stones without mortar and the absence of sculptural clutter. The sculptures were huge, seperately show cased and spread apart.

pic 3 : Pattadakal
The old kingdom of Aihole ( Ayya (or Arya) Volal = Valley of The Learned Elders) enclosed within a circular fort seems to have been a commercial center as well as a place of learning. It boasted of a Merchants Guild ( "Aiholeya Ainooravar" = "The Aihole 500") and a gentry of numerous Brahmins ( "Ayyavoleya Chaturveda Samudaya Mahajanamam"). Prosperity , inevitably, guided the kingdom towards indulgence in artistic pursuits and so began the experimentation.
pic 4 :Koshta Devata
12 kms from Aihole is Pattadakal ( or "Pattada kisuvolal" = The Red Valley of Coronations, red here indicating the standstone hills) which was used as the auspicious venue for Coronations. The architectural experiments that originated in Aihole culminated in Pattadakal. Both sites can be studied together to get a fair idea about the evolution of temple architecture. While in Aihole the specimens are scattered over the countryside and the hills, in Pattadakal the "Big 10 " are all conveniently clustered together in a single layout.
In fact i found it amusing that two magnificent dravida shaili temples called The Virupaksha ( orig. Lokeshwara) and The Mallikarjuna ( orig. Trailokeshwara) should stand so close together as to seem like they were jostling for space and prominance ! They were built by the sisters Lokamahadevi and Trailokyamahadevi respectively, who were wives of Vikramaditya II. Both temples commemorate the King's conquest of Kanchi and both resemble Kanchi's Kailasanathar Temple that had impressed the conqueror. Both temples are lavishly embellished with excellent sculptures of the highest order. Clearly a contest was on ! I wonder which lady succeeded in becoming hero Vikram's favourite wife !!!

pic 5 : Koshta Devata
I also wonder why this crowding together of temples in Pattadakal, when the Chalukyas had the whole valley at their disposal. But i am not complaining ! Aihole demanded so much hiking about, that Pattadakal's " collected" edition was more than welcome !
pic 6 : Rawanphadi Cave temple

It was interesting to discover that the "temples" in Aihole also served as dwellings for influential persons at various periods of time, as evidenced by "Gowdara Gudi" ( the chieftain's palace), Ambigara Gudi ( Boatmen's ), Neidara Gudi ( weaver's), Badigara Gudi etc. There's even one Shivalaya called the Ladkhan temple , having been used by an Islamic mendicant.
pic 7 : Bhootaganas

All stages in the evolution of temple architecture are exemplified in these two site. From the early rock cut shrines to structured flat roofed "Mantapa" style to The Bouddha Chaitya Design to Nascent Shikaras to curvilinear Rekha Nagara shikara and the multi tiered Dravida Vimana , with intermediary or montage experiments that became the innovative, hybrid Vesara Style ( adopted by the Hoysalas to stunning effect in Belur and Halebid) .

pic 8 : Mahabharata on pillar

The most widely recognised symbol of Aihole is The Durga Temple. Durga denotes the Fort, not the goddess. In fact, it is not known to whom this temple is dedicated. It is modelled on the apsidal Bouddha Chaitya design. The huge representation of valiant hindu devatas all around the corridor alternating with latticed windows is a visual treat . In the Kontigudi complex, i was charmed by the roof of The Ladkhan Temple. Though made of stone, it looked like wooden slats pinned down by radiating wooden logs !

pic 9 : deco. on pilaster
The ( monolithic) stone lattice windows seen in most temples are marvellous creations. Such great variety in design . Some even look like macrame knots ! How many days would a sculptor have spent on each jaali ? Imponderable !

pic 10 : below the eaves (a kapota hara panel)

Ceiling decorations are mostly The Lotus Pond Motif or the Rashi Chakra with the Navagrahas. The walls and pillars of the later temples are profusely covered with bas relief panels narrating mythological stories among which the most repeated are Samudramanthan, Narasimha's story, Varaha's valour and Shiva's Gajasamhara Lila . Surprisingly, very little from Ramayana. Kubera's portrait is found in all temples . So also the Saptamatrikas. The border- filler birds, elephants or bhootaganas ( under the eaves and around the plinth) are executed in a variety of styles, poses and activities to cut monotony .One feature i found unusual in these shrines is the depiction of river goddesses at the base panels of the sanctum doorways ; i have not seen this in temples elsewhere.

pic 11 :Dwara Bandha ( door frame)
Generally, the craftsmen who actually create the wonderful temples go unnamed and unsung. But, it was heartening to discover here that the names of many of the architects and artisans are recorded in inscriptions on walls, with citations of titles and honours bestowed upon them by their appreciative patrons. Gundachari, Sarvasiddhi, Revadi Ovajja, Chengannayya, Baladevayya, Deva Arya : JayaHey to you, guys !

pic 12 : Rawanphadi Chamunda

All the Koshta Devatas , the eye-candy ladies and the dwarapalas are sculpted with great attention to detail and none look "stony". Their expressions are full of life and their body language , dynamic. In the Virupaksha temple, one hall is populated with a dozen playful couples all of whom sport different hairstyles ; a veritable fashion parade there !
pic 13 :Rekhanagara shikara
Towards evening, we drove to a hoary, holy place called Mahakoota, an important pilgrimage center in this region. Situated on the flank of a wooded hill, the fairly huge, fort like enclosure contains a dozen early Chalukyan shrines of different styles dedicated to Shiva, Vishnu, Brahma and Surya. Green, shady and cool. Also quiet, except for birdcalls.The pavilions look incredibly ancient . Even the trees are thick and gnarled with great age.Old and new sculptures of Veerabhadra and lovely Naga stones are lined up by the side of paved walkways under a canopy of short stooping trees. A Ganesha with damaged belly sits behind the principal Nandi . Perhaps it was the fading light of dusk or the chill drizzle or the somber stone arches of the outer corridor, or all of that, it felt a bit eerie while walking the grounds, around the pond.
But the main shrine, a huge one, was lovely. The pujari waved a lamp for us to see the presiding lingam, adorned with red flowers and silver ornaments. A beautiful, comforting sight. The pond "Vishnu Pushkarini, with the "go-mukha" spouts, looked as old as Time itself ! The water, though, fed by a perennial spring, was reasonably clean. This place is reported to have yielded two valuable inscriptions about the Chalukyas.

pic 14 : Lotus Pond motif ( Ceiling)
Just before returning to the hotel room at Badami town, we dropped into Banashankari. A grand, month long Jatre ( mela) was to begin the next day. Preparations were going on in full swing. The Chariot was getting decorated. Hundreds of stalls had sprung up : snacks , glass bangles ,utensils, cattle needs, pictures of Gods and movie stars. Touring theatres. Acrobats tents. Godmen and astrologers. Loud music. Hundreds of people from all villages and towns in the district, arriving in style, in colourful oxcarts, to pitch camp on the open grounds around the ancient Pushkarini ( which has a spacious covered corridor running all around it, to be used as a dorm by pilgrims.). The tall curvilinear roofs of the oxcarts had me musing : "Rekha Nagara Shikara ". Same silhouette ! The temple itself is very pretty with Maratha style deepasthambas and the petite bejewelled goddess , so charming. Banashankari was the Guardian of Chalukyan warriors who revered her as Shakambari Gowri .

So, how many temples today ? Calculated and recorded in notebook. Surfeit ? No. Had more Chalukyan temples been offered for dessert, i'd have accepted without second thought.
History is narcotic.

off to the Jatre !

( All photographs by nephew, Shravan)

Time travel to Chalukya desa.....Day 1

2010-01-01T22:48:00.000+05:30

Wrapped up 2009 with a big salute to the genius of the Chalukyas, who at the peak of their power, ruled over a vast tract of the Deccan peninsula stretching from the Narmada valley to the Kaveri Basin. The heart of this empire ,that lasted merely two centuries( 6th. to 8th. AD), was on the bank of River Malaprabha, in present day Uttara Karnataka . And to that heartland we took a train on 27th. December, for a 3- day gaping-fest !

Gadag. The only associations this name used to evoke in me were the "Gadag- seeri" ( a variety of fine, durable handloom sarees) and "Gadugina Bharata"( the classical Kannada Mahabharata).
Discovered a whole lot more about this place during the visit.

Officially the town is called Gadag -Betageri , conjoined twin towns with a common municipality in Gadag District. The district, rather backward and under developed to begin with, was one of the worst hit during the recent floods.
The land is sort of arid, but Sunflower, jowar and Cotton cultivation seems to thrive. We were quite surprised to learn that the first Co-operative Society, not just in India , but in the whole of Asia, was started in a village called Kanaginahal in this district, as soon as the British Govt. had passed the Co-operative Credit Societies Act in 1904 . A trend setter.
One of the earliest Bird Sanctuaries in Karnataka was established at The Magadi Tank , in Gadag.
It is the home town of two dazzling stars of Hindustani Classical Music : Ganayogi Panchakshari Gawai and Sri Bhimsen Joshi.
Handlooms and the printing press used to be major industries here till recently. Now, Wind Power Generation is the big one. While it seems like a good development in the right direction, locals fear that avarice and unconscionable promotion of windmill farms are hurting the environment. Not only is allotment of land to these companies diminishing cultivation, but it is also driving away the indigenous fauna that once had safe haven here, especially The Indian Grey Wolf and the migratory Bar Headed Goose.

More pertinent to our visit is the fact that Gadag was the epicentre of Kalyani Chalukya art and architecture.

The most impressive structure that we saw in Gadag Betageri was The Trikuteshwara Temple Complex ( 8th or 9th Cent AD). Dedicated to the Trinity, Brahma Vishnu and Maheshwara ; all three represented as lingams placed on a common pedestal.
I had always imagined that the artistry of Belur , Halebid and Somnathpur was peerless and unbeatable. But after seeing this complex, i was forced to reconsider my conviction.
The profusely ornamented pillars, the intricate, filigreed stone "jaali"s, the delicate lace like carvings on the Dwara-bandhas at Trikuteshwara are to be seen to be believed. The art is so exquisite and individualistic that it is celebrated as The Gadag Style of temple architecture, a class by itself.

Four old men were lounging on the polished stone platforms of the cool antarala, snacking on peanuts and gossiping about delayed flood relief operations. They were extremely proud of their heritage and eagerly pointed out to us many finer details of the architecture. They also kept criticising ASI for not doing better , all the while tossing peanut shells nonchalantly across the ardhamantapa ! Whose heritage is it anyway !
( Note on picture above. This is part of a door frame decoration,in close-up. The carving is in 3D, such that a paper ribbon can pass right around the figure with ease. The size of each "medalllion"figure is....just two inches across ! )

The pie'ce de re'sistance , the priceless jewel of the complex is the Saraswathi Temple. Each pillar is a treasure . The green grey stone shines like smooth polished jade at some places giving us an intimation of what a splendid sight it must have been when new. But sadly, major portions of the structure are covered with stubborn, centuries old brown dust ! Though it is labeled by ASI as a Protected Monument, no regular cleaning is evidenced. We could not see the main idol because it was locked up ; it is reportedly damaged and hence not offered puja. Just beside this is a smaller shrine, also decorated with very fine carvings, which houses Savithri, Gayathri and Sharada, three modern day idols, replacements for lost originals. Hidden behind the Saraswathi temple is a small shrine, supposedly for Ganapathi, but now empty. There are a couple of houses attached to the temples where the homemakers were go about their chores of washing clothes and cleaning grain.
Situated at the back of the main temple is the Rudra Teertha, a holy pond built like a step well. I couldn't bear to look in - it was half full of sludgy green water and chocking with garbage, breeding an explosion of bugs.

The other famous temple in Gadag town is The Veera Narayana Temple (11th cent). Its the place where poet Kumaravyasa held the inaugural reading out his epic composition "Bharata Kathamanjari". The old temple has been completely renovated or rebuilt, so much so that it looks like a 20th century temple. Only the Mahadwaras retain some old elements. Some ancient carved panels are "preserved" with a thick coating of blue oil paint. God bless whoever came up with this bright idea ! The temple is in"active use", attracting throngs of pilgrims all round the year.The Sthala Vriksha looks beautiful - it is a composite of Peepul and Neem, (ritualistically "married" as saplings and grown enmeshed as one, down the years) and seems to be of venerable age.

Lakkundi : 12 km. from Gadag lies the old chalukyan Capital of Lakkundi known for its temples and Jain Basadis. And its "101 Pushkarinis ". You just have to stumble here, to fall on an ancient structure. There are literally hundreds of...........(alas!) ruins ! The Archeological Survey of India has salvaged just about a dozen or so sites and given them "Protected Monument" status ; the rest are in various stages of decay.

During my sojourn through Lakkundi, I was pained to notice that magnificent edifices left by the Chalukyas are today reduced to weed sprouting cella, most of the stones having been used up in later town building activities ; and that these crumbling shelters now function variously as cattle sheds, piggeries, laundry houses, godowns, saloons, garbage bins and public toilets . It hurt very much to see the hoary carved stone pillars and walls abused thus.

Brahmajinalaya is the masterpiece of Lakkundi and is dated to late 11th. century. Built with smooth green schist stone, this shrine is presided over by Vardhamana Mahavira in the sanctum. Just outside the sanctum stands a magnificent, life size statue of Chathurmukha Brahma, lavishly ornamented. Two of its hands are broken, but the rest of it is in excellent state of preservation. Since there are no lights within, the lone watchman uses a sheet of tin as reflector, directing and enhancing the scant sunlight pouring through the trellised window, to illuminate the idol . Photography is strictly prohibited within the temple , so we had to capture all details only through our eyes and have them imprinted in memory.

The splendid doorway has a series of "dwarabandhas" and " lalata-bimbas" on the lintels, all finished with embellishments of the highest order.The stone seems to have yielded well to all the artistic aspirations of the skillful sculptors. This shrine was supposedly built with endowment from "Daanachintamani" Rani Attimabbe, wife of the local Chalukyan chieftain , patron of the celebrated poet Ranna and a noted philanthropist. She is supposed to have built 1500 Jain Basadis, of which this Jinalaya was the last. The Brahma was put inside the Jinalaya by Bharataraya, who got the shrine repaired after largescale destruction of Jaina basadis by the warlord GoggaRasa who favoured Hinduism. One lifesize decapitated jaina statue in meditating pose sits outside the shrine on a manicured lawn provided by the ASI . This temple is well protected by fencing and taken good care of. Daily worship is also offered.

The other one enjoying similar care is the splendid Kasi Viswanatha Temple Complex, just a block away. On the way to it though, are remnants of at least three other ruined gems.
The Kasi Viswanatha Temple is also a treasure trove of sculptural wealth and sports massive, squat , lathe turned pillars of shiny black stone in the main vestibule. The intricacy of the decorations on the door jambs and lintels is astonishing. The demon faced Kirthimukhas, stacked in a horizontal row on the shikhara are very attractive too. Facing this shrine, built upon the same Adhishtana ( platform), is a shrine to Surya, who is represented on the Mukhapatti with his wives Usha and Pratyusha. Across the road from this complex is another small temple, Nanneshwara, rather plain , but well preserved.

Of all the Step Wells of Lakkundi, only one seems to be maintained in good condition. This is found in front of the Manikeshwara temple, which looks older than the others and of smaller height. Called Musukina Bavi, this well has small niche mantapas embedded at intervals all around the walls. The symmetrical steps arranged like lines of a neat 'rangoli' presents a very pleasing geometric picture . One only wishes that the green slimy water stagnating is cleaned out regularly.

There's a small ASI Museum where a lot of salvaged sculptures are yet to be properly labeled and displayed. We heard that the Govt. celebrates "Lakkundi Festival" once a while, still the place does not seem to attract many visitors except regular "study tours" from nearby rural schools.

( Photos : By son )

A Boxing Day and a Vexing day.

2009-12-26T10:54:00.000+05:30

26th. December evokes two distinct memories.

One from the early years of 1980s. when we were residing in Lagos, Nigeria. We had traveled to Jos, during Christmas break, partly on holiday, partly for the husband to keep an appointment there on the 27th.
When we enquired about what X'mas festivities we could expect in Jos, the capital city Plateau State, we were told that "Boxing Day", on the 26th., would be the most exciting event of the season. Thats when, for the first time, I heard about "Boxing Day".

'Boxing ? Probably a traditional sporting event' i thought, remembering the Wrestling shows put up by the Pehlwans of the famous traditional Garadis ( akhadas) during Dasara in Mysore. An uneducated wild guess it turned out to be ; way off the mark !
I learnt that the "Boxing" in Boxing Day denoted a regular box used for collecting monetary gifts. This boxing custom apparently originated in Victorian England and had spread to its colonies. But somehow, i had never, till that date, heard of it ! Its the day on which the Have-Enoughs gave tips ( Baksheesh) ,as thanksgiving, to the Have-Nots who serve them directly or indirectly throughout the year.

JOS, the capital city of Plateau State, which is located at the exact geographic center on the map of Nigeria, was founded by the British colonisers as a Depot Stop for the flourishing Tin mines located all around the plateau. The mineral wealth ( tin, columbite, feldspar) were transported from this depot to the ports at Lagos and Port Harcourt for shipment abroad. It was thanks to the tin mines that the place got one of the earliest railway lines in that part of Africa.
The name JOS ( neither jaws nor joss !) is a corruption of the old name Geash. Because of the elevation, the region enjoys a good climate. Its mineral resources attracted good industry and contributed to the region's prosperity. These factors paved the way for the settlement of a cosmopolitan population of different races, ethnicities and religions.
Plateau State is endowed with a selection of different terrains - jungles, savannah and rugged rockeries. Consequently, the state attracts tourists looking for scenic picnic spots. A very popular spot is Kurra Water Falls - surprisingly, not a natural phenomenon, but a consequence of opening up of tin mines and diversion of wild streams ! A small hydro electric project harvests electricity from it to satisfy local needs. The other items of " scenic beauty" that the locals are quite proud of are the Riyom Rocks ( interesting formations of stacked boulders) and Wase Rock ( an insleberg , favoured by rock climbers).

Having heard that The State Museum houses archeological relics of the very ancient and mysterious NOK culture, i made time to squeeze in a quick visit. But, sad to say, the museum had gone to seed and the few terracotta artefacts lying in a haphazard manner gave no intimation either about their age or function. Very disappointing. ( Years later, i saw some beautiful NOK specimens in a history exhibition halfway across the globe, in Singapore !). I heard that the Jos museum is in good shape today.

As we were short of time, we did not visit the Game Sanctuary - but after seeing photographs of a friend's visit, consoled ourselves that we had not missed much.

But we were really glad to catch the Boxing Day merriment.

By mid morning, groups of children and young adults were out on the streets, in a variety of masquerades, dancing to the beat of lively music, both local and international. Everybody wore masks, made of all kinds of material : wood, metal, leather, fabric, plastic, green leaves ! Some of the huge wooden masks were gloriously coloured in shiny paint that dazzled in the bright sun. Costumes defied description ! Ribbons, badges, scarves, strings, beads, bells, shells and bottle caps enlivened the robes and pantaloons. It was like an overload of colour, sound, shapes and movement !
The groups sang, mimed, danced and acted out skits before extending huge card board boxes , soliciting tips. Everyone cheered them but only some dropped a donation. We did ............. from their approach, i got the feeling that, as expatriates, we were not entitled to the option of withholding tips !

At the local market in Jos, we got to see some wonderfully tooled leather articles. Tribal motifs predominated.
Leather Pouffes ( bean bags) from this region used to be a great fad when we lived there, no expat worth his residence permit would repatriate without one !
( Where is mine now ? - scratching my head !)

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The other memory that 26th Dec. evokes is an eerie visual :

In an unnaturally pale and murky light, four or five fishing boats, crashed to splinters, lie in an upright heap against the wall of All India Radio Compound . Across the road , beyond the famous Marina beach,Chennai, the sea is slate gray and deathly still, though the sand, the road, everything is wet and puddled. It is completely deserted.

This visual, when recalled, sends a clammy feeling down the gut even now.

The radio in the taxi, in which we had traveled to the city, was still talking of flooding water and unusually big waves . On the road, totally confused policemen, sans co-ordination, were diverting a thin traffic helter skelter . At our destination, very close to Edward Elliotts Beach, pedestrians were cordoned off the sands while all the pie dogs of the fishing colonies, that had invaded the residential layouts earlier in the day, cowered under parked vehicles and behind trash bins...............
It was only the next day that a new, dreaded, alien word entered the vernacular tongue : Tsunami.

BIG and BIGGER

2009-12-11T22:50:00.000+05:30

Right after reports appeared in press, about plans to install a 500ft. tall statue of Buddha Maitreya in Bodhgaya, China put out word that a 509 ft. Maitreya will come up in Central China sooner ! After all China has a record to defend ; it is home to the current Tallest Statue in The World - also a Buddha.
I have not yet seen this Biggest Statue in The World.
But here's a listing of some of the other Biggies i've met .

The biggest statue i'd seen as a child was the monolithic Nandi atop Chamundi Hill in Mysore. In those days, it was more approachable, there being no forbidding railings around the image as now. Children were encouraged to walk through the arch created by its bent foreleg, to ensure good health. As we passed under that stone knee, the statue seemed imponderably immense. But it is only 18 ft. high. Whereas the other famous monolith of Karnataka, the awe inspiring Gomateshwara at Sravanabelagola, is 18 meters tall . It's always an exciting moment when, as one drives towards the hillock, Bahubali's head becomes visible from kilometers away .
The Buddha gracing Hussain Sagar in Hyderabad is said to be of the same height, but somehow it doesn't show.

Hanuman and Shiva are two deities most often chosen for mega image making. Namakkal's Hanuman used to be the tallest ( about 19 ft), evoking the similie : "so tall, there's no roof overhead."
But taller and taller Anjaneyas have been sprouting all over , both in India and abroad, on a regular basis since the the mid 1960s. The Hanuman Murti in Delhi, about 20 meters tall, looming above a cluster of busy roads, is a rather disconcerting distraction !
When modern day sculptors start thinking Big, steel and concrete come handy for executing their grand designs perfectly. The huge Shiva statues at Murudeshwar ( 123 ft, with base), at Haridwar ( 100ft) and at Kids Fort Plaza in Bangalore ( 65 ft) are towering examples.

The most massive Shiva Lingam, worshipped in a temple, that i have seen is in Thanjavur ( Brihadeeshwara : 4 meters high, 7 meters circumference.) .

The Far East offers an explosion of Buddhas - Sitting, Standing, Reclining. Tiny to titanic. Of all styles and material .The ascetic Buddha, who renounced everything, has some mystique that impels people to create grand and rich statues of him ! Especially in Thailand. The one giant i particularly like is the Phra Buddhasaiyyas, the 46 meter long gold plated image at Wat Pho, reclining inside a hall too small for him. Trying to get a full lateral picture of the idol is impossible. The only way is to have its feet( the soles decorated with 108 holy symbols) in the foreground, from which the rest of the body stretches away to the horizon, so to say.

The other striking image is at Wat Traimit in chinatown. The world's biggest solid gold statue. 5 tons, 10 ft. tall. Also in Thailand is the tallest Walking Sakhyamuni at Putthamanthon : 16 meters tall. A holy thread runs from its blessing hand to a smaller image at the base, so that worship offered to the latter gets transmitted to the larger one!

Batu Caves, near Kuala Lumpur, is a natural limestone cavern system , 400 million years old,famous for the shrine to the tamil god, Murugan. The high roofed central cave, (with a natural skylight opening), where the small image of the god was installed in the 19th. century by tamil immigrants, has the overwhelming qualities of an ancient gothic cathedral. In 2006, a 140 ft. tall golden hued Murugan, made of steel and concrete, was erected at the foot of the hill. The name Murugan means Beautiful ; this enormous figure amply validates the meaning.

The same sentiment cannot be extended to another Tamil icon in Mega mode : Thiruvalluvar , author of Thirukkural, the Tamil Veda. A 133 ft. tall statue of the seer-poet stands on a rock at the confluence of Indian Ocean, Bay of Bengal and Arabian Sea in Kanyakumari, where both sunrise and sunset create extravagant , colourful backdrops for it every dawn and dusk. Its size is breath taking no doubt, but , aesthetically it is quite mediocre. ( The 133 feet height denotes the 133 Cantos of his epic)

Think BIG, think Egypt ! The Great Sphinx of Giza (66Ft) and the different Ramases( none shorter than 20 ft) are all pointers to the grand vision of those ancients who reached for the stars. The biggest free standing images in Egypt, the two Colossii of Memnon ( 60 ft. without the base) are unfortunately so dilapidated that no features can be recognised . As a result , they merit only a cursory 10 minute photo-op stop on tour itineraries. But we heard an interesting story about the twin statues there. Both portray Amenhotep III and were part of a memorial temple that was flattened by an earthquake around 26 BC. Soon after this disaster, the statues started to "sing", "sigh" or "groan" frequently ! In no time at all, they were declared as Oracles and a popular cult grew around them drawing crowds of pilgrims from far and near . Then, around 200 AD, a Roman Emperor wishing to curry divine favour, got some repair work done on the old statues - and to his utter horror, found that he had silenced the oracles forever ! Later it was deduced that the old earthquake had caused some fissures and crevices in the statues which gave rise to those sounds when the breeze blew through them. With the expert patching and sealing job, the statues just ceased being wind instruments ! And so died the Oracles !

Dewa Wisnu is a superstar in Bali. One omnipresent artistic motif is Wisnu riding on Garuda, a dynamic and lively image with the bird's wings stretched out, an umbrella or bower overhead and the deity in a warrior like stance. A 140 meter high replica of this beloved motif was planned for a park on a high plateau, overlooking the sea in Jimbaran district. But now, just a hunky 23 meter high bust stands in place ; the rest of him has been put on hold because of widespread native belief that such a massive construction would create imbalance of natural elements in the little island. Just as well. It wouldn't do to have this Wisnu rise up to his full height and have his handsome face veiled by clouds !

With a Cherry on Top

2009-11-26T13:31:00.000+05:30

Just the other day, after seeing off a guest at the Bus Station, i wondered for the nth. time why there's no train connectivity between Bangalore and Pondicherry . There are only bus services. One train line was tried out but has ceased operating. Considering the huge volume of traffic regularly heading to Pondi, thanks to JIPMER (Jawaharlal Institute of Post-Graduate Medical Education and Research) and The Aurobindo Ashram, one would think that an intercity train would work out well.

Pondicherry or Puducheri is a lovely destination for a weekend getaway. Perfect mix of the exotic and the familiar.
Right from my childhood days, i've had great fascination for this town, primarily because its frenchiness both amused and fascinated. The endearing hybrid ethos was quite strong in those days:

The flower seller, in "kandangi" saree, betel mashing mouth, forehead adorned with a traffic signal's worth of red, white and amber markings, would look up from her stringing and say "Baan-joru !" ( "Bonjour"). Addresses contained only "Rue"s, never any " Street" or "salai". The banian and lungi clad gentleman across the street would sport the fancy name of " Kitchnersuamey " or "Moreauganne", not your dowdy Krishnasami or Murugan. No dull policemen in khakhi shorts. Only sprightly Gendarmes in brilliant white uniforms and red pillbox hats. Localities called Ville Noir and Blanche long after the French had packed up and left ...............Only in recent times has Chennai Culture been seeping into the town, trying to wash out lingering Gallic influences .
Pondicherry reveals a new facet of itself on each visit. One never tires of the place. There are so many - too many - things scrapbooked about the place . Some that impressed me more :

Roads are narrow, drainage is still the colonial style"open-system" but the predominant mode of transport the citizens use is the Bicycle. There must be a million bicycles on the road at any given time ! Saree clad matrons riding with the whole month's provisions and grocery on a frail cycle , along trecherous lanes , is a sight that can be seen only here.

Invasion of foreign and domestic tourists, has encouraged sprouting of a wide variety of high- end shops and boutiques. Even so, the Sunday Night Market ,which is just an enlarged village market , is a lot more interesting place to browse around. Lively, colourful, noisy,variegated . You never know what odds and ends you can find here, even some "necessities" which you never knew existed !

These days, the old european style bunglows and compounds of the french quarter,( frequently seen in movies and ads.) , are being converted into hotels and homestays. It was in one such quaint eatery that i discovered Black Pepper Ice Cream !

Surprisingly, Bastille Day ( July 14) is still celebrated here, complete with hoisting of the French Flag. Many senoir citizens, still holding French Passports, draw fat pensions from the French Govt. Consequently, some of them are still under the hangover of the " We and you-people" kind of alienation ; though Kitchnersuameys and Krishnasamis share the same racial DNA !

AAYI MANDAPAM: the Emblem of the Govt. of Pondicherry. A handsome Greco-Roman pavilion standing in a lush park, at the administrative center of the city.
Commissioned by Napoleon III, this pavilion is dedicated to a 16th century native Courtesan named Aayi .

This is its story : The Pandyan king who ruled here was once lost on a dark night, after an outing. Seeing some oil lamps burning in a compound he assumed it to be a temple and entered the place to take refuge. Only to discover that it was the house of a dancing girl . He could have stayed and enjoyed the show. Or he could have said 'Sorry Ma'am' and got lost again. But the short fused chap did the only thing most men in authority do - he shifted blame ! Indicting the woman of the heinous crime of lighting lamps on a dark night (!!!!) and thereby causing him to sully his hallowed feet with the despicable dust of a house of sin, he kicked up such a ruckus that the poor lady got her splendid house demolished in repentance and had a pond dug up in its place to provide potable water to the townsfolk. With that, Aayi faded into folklore. Three centuries later, when the french colony that had come up on the coast , faced severe shortage of drinking water, it was Aayi's pond that came to the troop's rescue. Investigations brought to light Aayi's story and the French Monarch was so impressed with her nobility that he ordered a pavilion erected in her memory. It was originally called La Place du Pantheon.

BHARATIYAR'S HOUSE : I love this place. Any one who reads Subramania Bharathi's poems is changed forever. No translation can ever do justice to the seething emotions of Bharati's Tamizh. The humble house where the impoverished poet lived as a political refugee from British India is today a shrine to his memory. The old photographs, manuscripts and broadsheets he published transport one to that thrilling period when Freedom and Nationalism were the ideals that impelled each and every action of impassioned patriots.

ARIKAMEDU : 4kms. on the Cuddalore road, a small signboard announces the deviation to one of the most important archeological sites of South India. It was here that Mortimer Wheeler unearthed , in 1940,evidence of a prosperous Roman Emporium dating to 3BC - 1AD. Wine and ceramics were imported ; textiles, metals and glass beads were exported at this port. The Government Museum in the city houses all the excavated material- amphorae, coins, beads, shards etc.

Boats can be hired to sail around the Ariyankuppam creek , which feeds into the bay at Veerampattinam, presumably the ancient port, but hardly anything of the old ramparts or excavated trenches remain. Only the ruins of an 18thCent. French Jessuit church stand forlorn near the coconut groves. Still, its worth taking a ride if only to daydream about sticking a shovel into the eroded banks and pulling out some Roman treasures !!!

THE ANTIQUE SELLERS : One of the more pleasurable outings while in Pondi is to the small cottages on the outer suburbs. There are dozens of 'antique vendors' with home-cum-shops piled high with wonderful old furniture, doors and windows, chariot panels, tiles, musical instruments, lamps, statuettes, oleographs , baskets, utensils, wooden toys, mirrors, palanquins, locks, doorknobs, beads and buttons ...........Like a thieves' den from Arabian Nights ! All salvaged from traditional native and colonial houses that have crumbled away in the interiors of Tamilnadu, notably Chettinad. Rummaging through the junkyard- like disarray can be exhilarating as well as educative , for the things speak of the lifestyles of bygone generations. ..........But if you think you can snatch something away for a song, you are sadly mistaken. The ambiance may be shabby and the sellers, rural folk. But they are smart. They know the worth of what they are sitting on ! Though i visit those shops everytime, i have bought only one item so far: an 8 inch long wooden hand-fan with carved spines. Period : circa 1910, provence : Karaikudi. Price : Rs.950 + grumbles from family.

ROMAIN ROLLAND LIBRARY : ( formerly known as Bibliotheque Publique,) established in 1872, it is one of the oldest libraries in the country. Its collection of French, Tamil and English books stands at around 3 Lakhs today. Only the ground floor is accessible to the public. Just being in midst of so many books gives a high! One impressive service provided is the Mobile Library that ferries books to nearby villages periodically . Sadly, the library is situated in a dreary "govenment house" style building, on a busy road of public offices, that does not look inviting at all .

THE PETRIFIED FOREST : Not exactly in Pondicherry. About 25 Kms. away, on Tindivanam Road , is the town of Tiruvakkarai, known for its temple to Vakra-Kali Amman. The National Fossil Wood Park, maintained by the Geological Survey Of India, is situated here. Ancient Angiosperms, 40 to 50 million years old, in fossilised condition are scattered around an area of about 250 acres. Only a small part of this , fenced protectively, is open to public. Walking through a healthy jungle via beaten paths, admiring the old living trees is a refreshing experience. Along the paths, here and there lie the fossilised trees, which at first glance dont look any different from dead wood. But they have petrified into a hard stony texture, preserving even the annular rings excellently. The watchman, a kindly man, eagerly educates interested visitors about the process of fossilisation. He also sees to it that no one dare try touching those ancient logs !

Anandarangam Pillai House : A colourful and fiesty person was this Anandarangam Pillai (1709 -1761) celebrated as Pepys of South India for his voluminous diary recordings. Nothing has escaped from his keen eye and industrious quill - the politics of the day, foibles of the rich and famous, mores of day, cost of living,trade practices , everything. Though only a Dubash ( a clerical post) to The French Governor , he enjoyed power and influence improportionate to his station thanks to the (mysterious) favouritism showed by M. & Mme. Dupleix .
Whatever gray shades his character may have had, Pillai's Diaries deserve the high praise bestowed on them. Its is thanks to his journals that we know a great deal about life in French India . His house, with a traditional tamil ground floor and a European upper floor, typifies the confluence of two cultures ,which is the Cherry on the top of this delicious town .

A Divine Labour Ward

2009-11-06T11:42:00.000+05:30

Gods were created by men. So say some. I have no quarrel with anyone claiming that or the contrary.
But it's always a privilege to get to watch "Gods" being created by men.
In Swamimalai.

One of the Six Holy Forts ( Padai Veedu in Tamil) of Lord Murugan, Swamimalai is a small town buzzing around an ancient temple dedicated to the Divine Child known here as His Father's Preceptor ( Swami-nathan or Thagappan-swami).

The town is equally well known for its bronzes. A handful of workshops here turn out exquisite bronze and Panchaloha ( 5 Metal Alloy) artefacts using processes that have remained unchanged for ages . The art of bronze casting here was kept exclusively within a small knot of artisan-families who trace their lineage to the Divine Craftsman, Vishwakarma. But now, "outsiders" can also get training from them. There's also a government run school which takes in not more than 20 pupils for each course that runs two years.

The workshops where the sculptures are created are just rude sheds adjoining the humble homes of the craftsmen. Cruising through narrow alleys, stepping across puddles of mud and uncleared garbage, we arrive at the frontyard of a bronzecaster who has agreed to give us a tutorial about his ancient art. We see odd looking lumps of half dried clay laid out on straw mats and gunnybags. And browsing on some stalks of grain piled on the front yard are two fat black goats.

Shooing them away with a smart thwack of his hand towel, the smith conducts us inside a dark but spacious workroom. Sacks, cartons and waste material are strewn about. Gaudy calender pictures of deities adorn the pock marked, uneven walls. Unfinished products are stacked against an old teakwood almirah. Five workmen are busy finishing the finer details on two huge bronze figures , booked for shipment to an overseas customer.

The method used for making the sculptures here is the very ancient Lost Wax Process ; or Cire Perdue, as it is called in High Art circles. Its vedic name is "Madhuchistta Vidhana" .
The composition of the wax, the clay and the metal have remained unchanged since hoary times ; so also the implements..........it gives me a thrill of wonder and amazement to be reminded by him that the famous 5000year old "dancing girl" figurine of Mohenjo Daro was also sculpted by the very same process !

They still use the coconut-palm leaf ( Odi-olai) instead of the more convenient measuring tape for working out proportions. The first step is to make a palmleaf ribbon, exactly the length of the intended image. This leaf is folded over 12 or 124 times ( according to the complexity of the artefact to be produced) into equal units which are creased and marked on the ribbon. Units are called, according to the size, Talas, Angulas or Yavas. Proportions are worked out in multiples of these unit. The ratios handed down by ancient texts are religiously adhered to, in order to achieve the perfect, ideal, form.
Every craft project begins with a prayer, a shloka from Agni Purana, beseeching divine help in successful completion of the task.

The procedure sounds simple. The figure is fashioned out of wax, covered with a heavy layer of clay, fired and the melted wax is tapped off, leaving a mould inside the clay lump, into which molten metal is poured and cooled. Break the clay mould and Voila ! the God appears ! Both solid and hollow castings are made this way, the latter starting with a clay core that is later scrapped out.
The wax used for modelling is a mixture of beewax, tree resin and groundnut oil.

The clay comes from the bed and banks of River Kaveri . They swear by this incomparable clay because it is so fine that even a fingerprint can look like a vivid engraving,and its so strong and homogenous that it never cracks upon firing.

No modern kilns are used. Firing the clay mould and melting of the metal are both done on charcoal or coke fires lit in pits in the floor of the workshop.
A lot of pious rituals attend every step of the procedure, be it lighting the fire or breaking the mould or sculpting the eyes.
A major part of the metals ( Copper , Brass, Tin) used here comes from recycling discarded utensils, broken temple ware and automobile and industrial coil wire wastes. Metal is also recovered from the workshop floor itself , from the slag and the crust inside the melting crucibles. Nothing is wasted !

The mark of a fine craftsman is to deliver a finely detailed sculpture right upon breaking open the baked clay cast. The trick lies in controlling the temperature as well as the pace of the flow of the molten metal poured into the clay cast vacated by the melted wax . But this is exacting work and few today can do it with the perfection eulogised in historical works. Today, only the basic form is delivered from the cast and all details are hand chiselled later, on the metal form.

In addition to religious icons, a lot of decorative articles ( "show pieces" ) are also made where the sculptors can give their imagination a free run. But where images of gods are concerned, they adhere to the "lakshana" guidelines handed down the generations . These, when recounted by the sculptor, do sound so poetic ! The eyes are to be like neem leaves, the nose like sesame flower, neck like the whorls on a conch shell ; the torso of a male like the head of a cow, arms like a young elephant's trunk, knee like a crab, feet like fish...................No wonder the youthful, turbaned Rishabaruda, ( 1100 AD, standing in Thanjavur Museum ) , the Thiruvenkadu Ardhanariswara ( 11th Cent, standing in Chennai Museum ), and the 8 ft. Nataraja ( dated 9th Cent.,but deemed swayambu, dancing in Konerirajapuram temple) look so stunning and seductive !

Swamimalai, from being a pilgrimage centre, has blossomed into a Tourist Point attracting hordes of curious visitors eager to see the ancient processes of this wonderful craft. They always leave in awe and admiration...........and with a souvenir !

The latest attraction that has sprung up in Swamimalai is a lovely Heritage Home called Anandam which completes the "Time Machine" effect.

I remembered Swamimalai today (- hence this post ! -) as i gave the most favourite object in my collection , a Swamimalai bronze Shiva, a long due cleaning and polishing.(Below)
( Pics. of Workshop : by my father . Pics. in slide show : from postcards Pic. below: by daughter)

Road Rave

2009-10-25T13:56:00.000+05:30

Just the other day, after yet another singularly joyless ride through what is most injudiciously called a Highway, i fondly remembered another road : Smooth as silk . Two laned. Well paved kerbs, road markings in reflective paint, unbroken lines of cats-eyes, orderly bus bays and pretty shelters. Emergency- call phone kiosks every 3 kms, round the clock security patrolling , quick and efficient toll plazas, beautiful flowerbeds at "view point" halts. Trauma care and towing services at ever-ready mode. Sections of the highway, straight as arrows, looking like airport runways at night. A wonderful beach running alongside, throughout. No, this is not in some videshi postcard. The road, named ECR Scenic Beachway, part of SH 49, is very much in our own dravidian soil. From Chennai to Cuddalore via Puducheri ( Pondicherry), along the Bay Of Bengal coastline.

We lived in Chennai at the time this East Coast Road was still new. One trip was all it took us to get besotted with it ! The enchantment was so bad that my son and i would drive along ECR every weekend with no destination in mind, just for the pleasure of driving on such a wonderful road.In the Republic of Perpetual PotHoles , here was a road that fairly tom-tommed: "Yes, We Can ".

The ECR was created in 1998 by linking and upgrading many existing village roads and started collecting toll from 2002, after improvement work on the 114Km. stretch (now called Scenic Beachway)was completed.

During our aimless drives, we sometimes got down here and there to see this or that. And there's plenty to see on that road. Some already existing before the appearance of ECR, others having mushroomed soon after . Here's a list of some places that impressed me ; in no particular order.

The Crocodile Bank and Herpetology Reasearch Center. This facility was started to save and propagate endangered Muggers ( marsh crocs), Gharial ( Gangetic crocs.) and Salt Water Crocs. in 1976 by Romulus Whitaker. Later, the bank included turtles,snakes and monitor lizards too. It now has a CrocBank for surplus eggs and young ones produced here, that are sold to breeding centres and zoos across the world. All creatures are housed in enclosures that closely resemble their natural habitat. While educating and spreading awareness about reptiles, the center also has some activities to attract visitors ( for a fee, ofcourse): You can get photographed with the young crocs. Watch puppet shows by village kids. Take a night safari. Watch venom being extracted. Or Feed the crocs. This last is something i have seen only once ; but it was enough to put me off that "Activity" for life. I know Crocodiles cannot live on soup and salad,they need to be fed rats and such other creatures. No quarrel there. But i just could not cope with the fact that throwing a live little wriggling mouse into a mugger's mouth was billed as a photo-op, some sort of amusement ,with people actually lining up eagerly for the tickets .I wish they had changed the menu to dead fish, so that it would've seemed less like a Roman bloodsport.

( mugger awaiting food)

Cholamandalam Artists Village: It is the largest Artists Commune in India. A beautiful little hamlet on the beach , the very location is enough to get creative juices flowing, where artists can abandon themselves to their muse, unpressurised by the demands of mundane life .It was started in 1966 by the renowned artist , KCS Panikker and it nurtured what is now known in the art world as The Madras Movement .(Famous Names like Adimoolam, SG Vasudev, Nandagopal, K.Ramanujam....) The central idea was for artists to make handicrafts for a living and pursue art in leisure, so that the commune functions as a self sufficiant co-operative unit. (They were the first to popularise Batik painting in India.) It started out as a avant garde , bohemian commune, the artists living in rustic dwellings close to nature in Injambakkam, far from city life, with their works of art ( painting, sculptures, installations) scattered all over. But today , the City has crept closer( with a Spencer's Supermart bang next to it). The romantic village has progressed into a prosaic township, there's a museum of contemporary art, guest houses etc. But it has not lost its soul. Yet.
a book about the commune

Kovalam ( Covelong): not to be confused with the Kovalam of Kerala. This is a small fishing village, once a port of the Nawabs of Carnatic. In 1746, the port was claimed by the French, only to be sacked and destroyed by Clive in 1752. The Dutch, who had wandered in India briefly, had left a fort here. Now 'Taj Fisherman's Cove', a starred beach resort, stands on the premises of that fallen fort. The beach is ideal for catamaran rides and offers wind surfing.
Once, while staying in that resort, i was astonished to find that a native fisherman , trying to sell visitors some pretty cowries, was fluent in French, German and Russian in addition to English, Hindi and native Tamil . And holding up his old cut off jeans was a fraying belt sporting the YSL logo ! I din't pry, but could make out that some of the wares he was showing the firangis were definitely not cowries...........

Dakshinachitra : a living museum for south indian culture. Old, disused traditional houses of different communities from the 4 southern states, have been translocated and restored in this beautiful setting amidst palm trees and green meadows. It is run as a non- profit community service organisation by the Madras Crafts Foundation to preserve and highlight forgotten cultural idioms in crafts, performing arts,food, music etc.The reception area is designed by the legendary Laurie Baker and bears his signature building techniques.
Each traditional house is a minor lesson in social history. We understand so much about the way of life of the past inhabitants by looking at the room arrangements , household things and implements . The all-wood house from Kerala has so much 'character' while the all-stone hutment from North Karnataka speaks volumes about the hardships the inhabitants endure.
Village craftsmen frequently hold demonstrations of their craft here- basketry, pottery, banglemaking,weaving etc. Traditionally attired old ladies are at hand to show their talents : Rangoli, kasuti embroidery, flower weaving, creating palm leaf decorations and other household arts that are dying out in larger cities.
My daughter once tried her hand at grinding flour in the traditional flat stone mill , with much help from an "aachi". Only to give up after just two (- huff-puff-) rounds ! Women needed to be strong as an ox to contend with kitchens and barns of yore !
( kanchipuram house courtyard)

Boat Houses : one at Muttukadu and one at Mudaliarkuppam : run by State Govt. they offer rowing, wind surfing, water skiing, and speedboat riding on the brilliant blue backwaters. But its more lovely to watch the boats than to actually ride in any.

Mayajaal : a nifty , sprawling , fully airconditioned indoor amusement park which draws youngsters from hot and humid Chennai, in droves. There's a bowling alley, arcade games, movie theatres, food court et al. Good for time pass.

Mahabalipuram : Deserves a 4 part Serial Post. Maybe sometime later.

VGP Universal Kingdom : the very first amusement Park in Tamil Nadu. Still growing and still going strong, inspite of half a dozen other such parks springing up along the same ECR. Comes with its own private beach. Brain child of the VGP Group (which popularised the concept of Instalment Patyments for consumer goods in India.) The vision was to bring a 'disneyland' to Indian kids. The famous, immobile Statue Man who stands at the entrance is a much loved ( and much pestered) icon. I have always wondered how much they pay him.
Attractions include any number of rides, a recreated Chozha Fort, sculptural fountains, an aquarium, a Jurassic Park, an animated dolls museum, food courts and toytrains. I like the 3 ft. long Family Dosa the beachside restaurant serves. Its fun to watch the posse of bearers carrying it to the table carefully.
Adventure Shows ( realistic recreation of movie stunts) from abroad are also invited to play here periodically. And ofcourse, there's always some movie shooting or the other going on.
No wonder the Kingdom is jam packed and bursting at its seams every weekend. Definitely a place to avoid on holidays if you wish to retain sanity !

Karneshwara Temple : Close to the Toll Plaza on the Puducheri side, within Pudukuppam village limits stands a beautiful pyramid, close to the sea, surrounded by open land spotted with saplings, oriented towards the magnetic north. It is a temple dedicated to Siva Nataraja. And the Karna who built it is Dr. Karan Singh, prince of Kashmir ,the most cultured and gracious MP we have ever had. Though there is an idol of Nataraja inside, no ritualistic worship is done as this temple was built solely for the purpose of Dhyana, bringing together the mysticism of the pyramid shape and the occult aspects of the divine dance.
The first time we saw this temple was barely a year before the deadly Tsunami. It was a translucent fibre glass structure then and at dusk, illuminated from within, it glowed like an ethereal gem. The only sound was the swoosh of the waves pounding the sand close by. It was an unforgettable experience.
Then came the Tsunami and washed that pyramid away totally. It has now been rebuilt with Compressed Stabilised Earth Blocks and Stabilised Earth Concrete that are said to be disaster proof. There's a mechanised sliding door that seals in the idol for safety. There's a more solid RC podium. The present structure was designed and executed by Auroville Earth Institute and the measurements comply with certain mystic numbers as given by The Mother of Pondicherry. The place is used for satsangs and prayer meetings of Aurovillians and likeminded societies. People like me can just go for gawking.
( Pyramid Nataraja temple : Before Tsunami )

( Karneshwara now )- pic. courtsey : Auroville Earth Institute.

Salt Pans of Marakkanam: Towards the end of the scenic beachway, near Marakkanam, the lanscape on the opposite side of the beach is dominated by hundreds of glistening white hillocks, for miles. Like a toyland recreation of the himalayan peaks ! These are the salt pans where the backwater is flooded into sandy troughs, left to dry up in the baking sun, and then turned and washed repeatedly till pure white crystalline salt is formed. This is swept together as hillocks, sometimes covered with colourful tarpauline sheets , to await the lorries that will cart them away to the market. On sunny days, the landscape is truly dazzling, with bright blue sky and blinding white mounds . And labouring on them, ebony skinned men and women in the brightest coloured lungis and sarees...................watch for five minutes to realise how much work goes into that pinch of salt we toss into the pot so thoughtlessly. They are truly the salt of the earth.

Village Temples : While on one side of the road the scene is pretty constant with casurina groves, sand and blue-grey sea, the other side has more colour. Fields, with their avian accessories, the egrets. And village temples, with the brightly painted giant Ayyanars or Veerans ( guardian deities) and clay horses. And shiny, rainbow hued fiberglass fishing boats, stacked for sale or parked for the day. On a lucky day, one can see a merry, boistrous festival too.

( Ayyanar )

All pictures ( except "Karneswara now") : By Son.

Once Upon A Diwali..........

2009-10-17T12:26:00.000+05:30

Small communities of expatriate Indians , living in far flung small towns in alien land, are always thrilled to seize upon any excuse to have a jingoistic bash where they can wallow in nostalgia and longing for "home", with over- the- top exhibitions of Desi-ness.
Hyper-Desi sentiments, Uber-Desi attire, Ultra-Desi feasts .
Diwali is one such excuse and a grand one at that.

In the ghetto of the factory -campus in a smaller- than -small town of Indonesia, where we once lived, Diwali was always a Big Fat Desi Affaire par Excellence - yeah, Bollywood dances religiously included ! The Party was usually held not on actual Diwali day, but on the Saturday night nearest to it.
Since Fireworks were prohibited, a few anaemic chinese flare sticks were burnt for "tradition's" sake. But the rest of the party was great fun. Women turned out in bridal finery, men togged up like residual royalty, children stumbled around in cumbersome "ethnic" wear.
Dark odiferous chinese Gingelli oil , fuelled an assortment of wick lamps ( some lit in Pyrex dessert cups);
Sugar and coloured flour, incarnating in dozens of shapes and flavours, were exchanged by tray loads;
Reluctant children were bullied into reciting atrociously accented bhajans and shlokas ;
Any auntie who ever had sa-re-ga-ma dinned into her in her past, however remote, was given a concert hall opportunity ;
Rummy and Bingo went on in dizzying rounds ;
the latest ' filmi geets ' provided the background score ;
A lavish feast ,prepared by a battalion of housekeepers, was pigged into at unholy and unhealthy hours ;
And finally when everyone staggered home with take away gifts, it would almost be the dayafter. Who says we expats din't nurture Bharatiya Sanskriti !

Once, on a Diwali day ( midweek), a group of us decided to go on a little picnic to Garut, a district much eulogised for its Natural Beauty and geological curiosities. (Garut is also widely known for the delicious fudge , Dodol).
About 3 hours from home, the district is dotted with Volcanoes of all sort- active,dead, resting, incipient, susceptible , take-your-pick. Though stuck with an intimidating scientific label : " unstable stratovolcanic complex", Garut District ,which lies on elevated land , has a lovely crisp, newly washed feel to it.
When faint traces of sulphurous fumes start tainting the cool air, we know we are in proximity of the Patuha Volcano with its two huge craters Kawah Putih and Kawah Patuha..... We choose to visit the former as it has a 8 meter deep lake , while the latter is dry. Both places are marked out as tourist sight seeing spots, so there are ticket booths, paved walk ways , snack kiosks and trash bins at the entrance. A five minute walk from there takes us to the crater proper. It is v-a-s-t.
The water in the crater has a milky, greenish glaze to it and dense white fumes keep issuing out of it. The rim is well covered with vegetation and bleached volcanic rocks. It looks beautiful . And also a wee bit sinister, reminding one of Dante's "Inferno".From there, we drive for half an hour more to reach"Bumi Panas Kawah Kamojang" , a 25 hectare Geothermal Field, sitting on Mount Guntur ( =meaning Thunder), which incidentally is listed as "Active" ! We soon learn, to our relief ,that the activity consists only of boiling mudpools and steam geysers. There are about two dozen geysers, some of which shoot steam upto 20 meters into the air. PERTAMINA, the state owned Energy outfit, taps this geothermal energy for production of electricity.

The small Kamojang Township that we pass through looks very pretty and unbelievably like the toy town in Noddy stories. Neat as a pin !
A copse of woodland later, we enter the actual Geothermal Field.
The whole Field is heavily guarded and we are let in only after necessary clearance from the check post.

As we drive down, we can see dense white clouds issuing from the forest cover. Flanking the road are emerald meadows which are criss -crossed with snaking and twisting miles of large blue tubing . Looks like some futuristic movie set. They all lead to the power plant at the far end of the field, but we have no access to it. Tourists are expected to disembark at the parking lot and stroll through the jungle paths . And an awesome trek it is !

Boiling mud pools and steam vents pop up along the beaten paths without notice. Geysers howl intermittently behind bushes. And sulphur steam clouds up vision here and there. Often, we tip toe cautiously, picking our way gingerly between two simmering mud pools. At many places one can feel the heat through the very ground one is walking on.
The earth is literally seething here. Some particularly powerful geysers are( mercifully) fenced in ! One Geyser called "The Locomotive" makes a sound very similar to a steam engine.
Such tremendous heat just underfoot, yet, the jungle is so lush ; the air remains cool, even nippy; birds and small animals romp around merrily. Difficult to understand this compatibility.
.
By noon, we were heading home.
'Look at us' we told ourselves, 'good bharatiya behenjis, goose- stepping around smelly craters , instead of going to a temple on Diwali day ! '
The day was still young. So, on an impulse, we decided to take a small detour and visit Cangkuang Picnic Spot , a site we had heard about.
We had heard that there was a nice island there, in a nice lake , with nice boating facilities, surrounded by nice gardens. We arrived expectantly. And it was .....NICE !
Pretty picture. The nice lake even had nice patches of white and purple waterlilies in full bloom. Boating meant taking a nice reed raft fitted with benches and an awning. So pretty and so nice that anyone weaned on a diet of Desi movies could break into a nice song .
As we rafted towards the island, which was covered with tall straight trees, we noticed , with excitement, the outline of a........Candi ! A hindu temple ! Now this was a real discovery for we had had no info. about it before that. We scrambled up the bank and, sure enough, found a small stone temple of some antiquity. It looked austere with not much ornamentation.

Of course, compared to the magnificent Siwa temples of Central Java, this one was only a bare and humble structure, but it's importance lay in its utmost rarity in West Jawa. A sign board explained that the present temple was reassembled from ruins excavated from under old volcanic debris. We peeped inside the sanctum and found only a small, unidentifiable torso . But it was called "Durga" ! Right behind the temple lay a grave. That of a revered muslim preacher of 17th. century named Arif Mohammad, who, as a Mataram warlord, had earlier resisted , unsuccessfully, the invading Dutch adventurers.

We returned home by dusk, happy at having witnessed the steaming detritus of Mother Nature's own fireworks and happier still with our unexpected visit to an ancient Durga temple on Diwali day.
A nice co-incidence, which can also be called a nice miracle.

Vijayashanthi

2009-10-08T23:03:00.000+05:30

Unprecedented deluge in Karnataka and Andhrapradesh. And just the other day, the lament was about Drought. As they say in vernacular : "Athivrishti - Anaavrishti".

The usual post crisis finger pointings are going on , full steam. "Avoidable tragedy" is the unanimous verdict. We do have Disaster Prevention and Management committees. Also, pertinently, Disaster Relief Funds......Even marmosets learn, at least by pavlovian reflex. We never learn.

It was quite eerie to see images of the Tunga flooding the shrine in Mantralayam. Never have i seen the river there being anything more than a thin, sluggish stream, coursing well away from the bank . One always had to cross expanses of hot rocks to get the mandatory holy sprinkle.

*
.....Now I think of a little girl - is she safe ? Sadly, "Hungry and shelterless" may not be a new situation for her.....

*

All pilgrims to the Saint's Brindavana in Mantralaya are expected to visit the cave where he meditated for 12 years and which is now a shrine to Panchamukha Anjaneya. But somehow i had never got around to doing that suffix . Only on the last trip, about 3 years ago, we extended our plans to include this place.
Mantralaya is in Andhra Pradesh and Panchamukhi Anjaneya shrine is in Karnataka. The road makes the distinction is very apparent . As soon as the car enters Karnataka territory, it goes into Belly Dance Mode.
Stretches of road , full of pot holes. Stretches of pot holes with no roads. Eroded banking. Corroded sign boards.
Miraculously, we arrived in one piece after a 40 minute journey which could have been done in 25 mins. if only...........forget it.

The temple, in Ganadhala , is actually only a cave with a slanting rockface embossed with the form of the five faced Hanuman. Said to be Swayambu. The cave is fronted with a virulently coloured doorway, bright orange steps and a gopuram. At front is the Flag Mast on which leans a Mace, also orange in colour. Orange coloured oil paint, masquerading as Sindhoor, is found smeared liberally here there and everywhere.There are subsidiary shrines to the Guardian goddess of the village, Yarkalamma, and to the Paduka , ie Footwear. A pair of huge, well worn, artistically made, leather sandals . Said to be worn by Hanuman on his nightly visits to the cave ; the worn out pair is replaced with new, once in five years.

Whats with Five Faces ? An interesting myth is recounted by the priest. Hanuman, in the course of his Demon- bashing career , crosses path with Mahiravan, a Knight of Dark Arts and finds to his astonishment that packing off this goon is mission impossible. The wily fellow has repackaged his life into five lamps and set them in five different corners . Only when all 5 are extinguished together will his account close fully. Which was,presumably, never. But he hadn't reckoned with a divine shapeshifting opponent. Once the secret was known, with some deftly managed interdepartmental co-operation, Hanuman got the Five Faces ( Hayagriva, Garuda, Narasimha,Varaha,Hanuman), and in one "blow" extinguished the evil one. Moral : Wickedness never pays, however clever you are.

This cave temple is set in a very strange and wonderful landscape. Rocks of all shapes and sizes stand in odd , precariously balanced stacks. Very picturesque. One is even afraid to sneeze , lest they all come tumbling down. But they have stood thus for centuries.
Among the stacks, two enjoy extra respect. They are close to the main cave and are consecrated with holy markings in white and orange. One is called Vimana or aircraft. The other is The Bed. Both reportedly used by Hanuman on his nightly visits. I couldn't see a flying vehicle in the gestalt of the former stack, but the latter does very much resemble a comfortable futon on an equally comfortable cushion mattress. And there are nice natural striations too , like candystripe prints on a bedsheet.

Thats where i saw the girl. Not more than 6 . Dressed in shapeless ,oversized clothing ,hair all unkempt, she looked a bit wild and was almost chubby with residual baby fat. She was part of the nomad family selling beads, faux rudrakshas, plastic combs, pictures and such other trinkets. With bright eager eyes and a wide , gap -toothed grin, she latched on to me, pestering me to buy her ware, none of which was of any use to me. To ward her off, i told her i'd see the god first and think of shopping later.

After doing the rounds, when returning to the car, i got caught again. She turned up promptly and re- started her sing-song . I found it difficult to handle a wheedling child, but definitely dint want to be emotionally blackmailed into buying stuff that will instantly vanish into the bottomless pit of the bottom drawer. To add to my discomfiture, my companions who had gone off to photograph the attractive rocks seemed to take an eternity over it.

In order to divert the child's attention, i started a little conversation.
Where did she live ? She pointed towards the right.
All i could see was a plot of drying crops and some rocks. God, did they sleep under the stars ?!

What was her name ? Vijayashanthi.
Unable to give her decent basics ( food-clothing-shelter-schooling) her parents had given her the best they could : a glamorous name. A film Star's.
I couldn't fathom in the crystal ball of her large shiny eyes what the future held for her. A life like her mother's ? With no permanent address, no BPL card, no proof of citizenship, or even legal life , in any record anywhere. A being with only two functions in life : to search for food, to procreate.

A new vehicle appeared on the pathway and the girl ran to it in the hope of a sale. My companions returned and we boarded. As soon as the engine started, the little Vijayashanthi called out to me "Akka....tata... tata!" and with the biggest and most beautiful gaptoothed smile waved me bye. And i hadn't bought a single bead from her !
That night, before retiring to bed, i could not think of the Saint. I could not think of God. I thought of that little child.

I thought of her again now, when The Tunga is flooding on the TV screen.

A Sublime, SILENT world.

2009-10-05T09:39:00.000+05:30

Was saddened by reports and pictures of the Samoan Tsunami and the Indonesian quake. Natural disasters have started becoming regular features in the News. A strong pointer ,perhaps, to the fact that we are not taking as much care as we should of our home planet.

Whenever the subject of Tsunami comes up, I think of the Pichavaram Mangrove Jungle. When the terrible tidal wave devastated the Nagapattinam coast in 2004, this small haven, a green David, put up a brave fight against the Goliath and lived to tell its tale . Having quickly mended its minor bruises, it is still standing there, a proud eco-warrior,luxuriant and full of wisdom to be shared with anyone who cares to lend an ear.

Having visited Pichavaram many times, I am yet to become immune to its verdant charms.

Pichavaram is the second largest mangrove biotope in Asia ( after Bengal's Sundarbans), ranking among the healthiest of wetland vegetations in the world. Spread across 1400 hectares ( still growing), in the backwaters fed by the Vellar and Coleroon rivers, and separated from the sea by a lovely sandbar, this mangrove jungle is a unique biosphere encompassing hundreds of Islets and creeks. Six or seven villages situated within the cover of this jungle were miraculously spared the fury of the tsunami while nearby hamlets were completely washed away, because of the very nature of the mangroves. Except for a few trees on the fringes closer to the sea, that were uprooted by the force of the wave, the jungle suffered little damage. The force of the invading wave was vastly weakened by the thick vegetation, and by getting diverted into the numerous creeks. There was no erosion of land as the thick web of fibrous roots held the soil fast in a stranglehold.

Mangroves , adapted to life in saline water and marshland, are quite a remarkable and funny species. They have fascinating, highly specialised adaptations to thrive in an environment that can kill off other types of vegetation. Some mangrove varieties shoot out porous , "breathing sticks" from the submerged roots to suck in oxygen . One can see armies of these eerie fingers sticking out of the emerald green water, when one goes boating . Some have "crutches" to keep themselves anchored in the water. Most have waxy leaves that are clever enough to separate the salt from the water injested and to secrete it as powdery residues.
The trees also "walk"; meaning : they throw saplings ( fully germinated while still attached to parent tree) and adventitious roots, a few inches away from their own base so that an offspring thicket grows there and the expanded clan prospers !

The mangroves support an intricate web of life with interdependant species of fish, crustaceans, birds, reptiles and small animals .

While many of the inner creeks of Pichavaram are as yet unexplored, the state government has authorised row boats to take visitors through charted creeks. What a wonderful, strange and SILENT world it is out there ! The boatmen are very knowledgeable and give a complete education about the wonders of the mangrove. But the voice is never raised above the just- audible level. Even the oars are manipulated so gently as to reduce the volume of the splash. Our voices automatically drop to a whisper too. The dense, overhanging trees lining the narrow creeks create the feeling of meandering through watery caves . Sometimes, the boat gets within touching distance from the mesh of roots. At such points, one can spot creatures like the goggle eyed mudfish, bright orange crabs with mean pincers, ceaselessly squirming guppies, brilliantly patterned spiders and bunches of mussels. Egrets and terns flutter among the boughs.

The livelihood of many nearby villages depends on this jungle which provides them fuel , food and medicines. Its heartening to hear the villagers speak of the jungle with immense respect and piety. One can be sure that they will always protect it and not exploit it for quick gain.

One has seen in documentaries , explorer's dugouts splicing through the creeks of Amazonian rainforests. Gliding through the cool, green, cavernous alleys of the Pichavaram creeks feels like a close approximation of that. Its a wonderful experience .
Unfailingly enchanting. Everytime.

( Pichavaram is 15 kms. from Chidambaram , 75Kms. from Pondicherry. There are no "amenities" here , perhaps thats good for the place. The approach road is only an apology. And thats not good for the car ! )

A-MAZE-ing Fort.

2009-09-30T23:13:00.000+05:30

Watched Mysore's Jambu Savari on TV on Vijaya Dasami Day . The procession this year was short and quick, but somewhat chaotic, with as many organisers, volunteers and event managers as actual participants crowding the Parade. Though the grand finale of the caprisoned elephants carrying the goddess was magnificent as usual, the Floats that preceded left a lot to be desired. Particularly disappointing was the Float entered by Chitradurga District. They could have stuck with the theme of the windfarms that are doing so well there. Instead they just had to instal the Kallina Kote ( "Stone Fortress") and make it look so insipid.
In reality, this fort is far from insipid or lacklusture. Its splendid.

Magnificent. Wonderful . Evocative. Awesome. I need to look up a thesaurus for a few more superlatives . Chitradurga's Fort deserves them all. No one who has wandered among those historic stones can come away unmoved.
I dont know why this fort does not enjoy wider popularity like say, Hampi or Srirangapatna. It is not promoted as well as those. A pity. For, it is an immensely interesting piece of heritage. A marvel of building design. Also, very picturesque.

The terrain here is rocky with boulders of all sizes strewn around in titanic disarray. The fort that the Nayaka Dynasty built runs all over and around these rocks in seven concentric circles , like a maze, with ingeniously engineered entry and exit points, so as to make it totally, absolutely impregnable. After outwitting several powerful enemy armies for centuries, when the Fort finally fell ( in 1779),it was only due to treachery of one of its own subjects.

Fortunately the Fort is maintained very well. There are 19 main portals, 36 small gateways, 35 secret inlets , 14 temples , courtyards, granaries, watch towers and resting pavilions. The grinding stones used for making gunpowder are interesting items. A small crevice like opening hidden under boulders , named Obavvana Kindi, has a very popular legend/folklore about a brave lady behind it .

Exploring the Fort and some caves nearby needs the services of a guide. Else, its easy to get lost in the maze. Since it is rocky terrain, the best time to climb up is early morning. Thats also the time when the birds and monkeys are at their lively best !

Chitradurga Fort is about 200 kms. from Bangalore on NH-4, via Tumkur. On the way, there are pleasant vistas of sunflower fields and miles of windfarms- battalions of huge, sleek, white windmills.
The Fort is good for a refreshing getaway once in a while.

Parked in Parks

2009-09-25T14:05:00.000+05:30

Right now, there's debate in the air here, over the necessity or otherwise of levying fees on the public for use of the city's parks. As expected, there's stiff resistance to the idea, because We the People, dont like to give up our Fundamental Right to Freebies ! But actually it is not such a bad idea after all, because only when you pay, you understand the worth. It cannot be denied that we , as a nation, sorely lack civic sense and respect for public property. If one is made to pay, perhaps one will take better care of community spaces. And the money collected can go towards better upkeep of our lovely green lung-spaces - hopefully !

Mention of parks always evokes the mental association i have with the city of Geneva.
During travel, we mostly pack into the itinerary the sightseeing spots the place is known for. Geneva is the only place where we spent most of our time roaming through parks,parks and more parks, after doing the mandatory rounds almost prefunctorily.
This predominantly french speaking Swiss city, within the Canton of Geneva, is so blessed with good weather that the whole place is like a perpetual Flower Show. So, visiting parks becomes a fatal attraction - fatal to other plans.

The famous Lake Front , with its merry promenades, exotic flower beds, lively quays with waterfowl and sail boats, is verily the pride of its citizens . Visiting the place is like stepping into a picture post card. The famous Jet d'eau ( that shoots 500 litres of water per second to a height of 140 metres at a speed of 200 km per hour) is suitably awesome. And to think that this grand spectacle was originally only a security valve to release built up pressure of a hydraulic factory ! In its second life as an enchanting fountain, it has become the most identifiable symbol of the city.Close to the Lake Front is the Brunswick Monument, a very ornate tomb of a duke who is said to have willed all his fortune to the city, with the proviso that a grand cenotaph be built for him at city center !

On the left bank is the English Garden, the first of the many parks we visited, the centre piece of which is the huge Flower Clock, once just a pretty arrangement of plants , but now with modern technology, a real working time piece. Being excellent watchmakers, the Swiss have also installed a huge Solar cum Laser clock in another park right across from this floral clock. Elsewhere in the city is another popular - and entertaining- musical clock, The Malbuisson,with small figures and chariots doing a parade at the strike of every hour, recreating an historical event. And in a hotel stands the biggest pendulum clock in the world (30 meters or 9 stories high).

Geneva is a nice place to walk. Hence, walking tours galore ! Specialised walkabouts dedicated to all that the Swiss are famous for : Cheesemaking, chocolatemaking, watchmaking ,moneymaking ( banking history) and of course, Peacekeeping ( The UNO headquarters in The Palais des Nations area.).
We took the "Old Town "walkabout which included the Old Arsenal ( 17th. Cent. with some canons and murals. Today it houses the State Archives), St. Peter's Cathedral ( a magnificent 12th. century shrine with brilliant stained glass windows and a humongous bell), the Town Hall ( 16th Cent.) and some charming old courtyards and cobbled lanes maintained in old style.

Of course, the UNO part could not be missed. A swish place with all those manicured lawns , mood setting sculptures, fluttering flags , the mandatory Globe, hundred year old trees and free-roaming peacocks (donated by Japan and India)...........and all this within a park called Ariana Park. Which overlooks Lake Geneva and the French Alps.

The Botanical Garden, called a Living Museum, with well demarcated specialised areas like medicinal plants, geenhouse, arboretum,rockery is too vast to be covered in a hurry. Our stroll was more like a toe-dip. Its Conservatory, with a Herbarium of 5 Million plants is so precious we are told, that only Scientists are allowed in on special appointment.

Bastions Park : An ideal place for spending time for everyone. There's amusement, education, healthy exercise everything to be had here. Right in the heart of the city, it encloses The University, long shady avenues, fountains, a life size chess board set on ground, a restaurant and The Reformation Wall . This last, a huge wall built upon part of the ancient defensive city wall, is a splendid monument to the spirit of Reformation . The central piece is the impressive group of four 5 meter high statues of Jean Calvin( the head of reformers),Guillame Farrel (first Protestant preacher in Geneva),Theodore Beze and John Knox. Behind these figures is carved the reformist motto: "Post Tenebras Lux"( After the Darkness, the Light); on either side of the group are other figures enacting the crucial events of the movement. Quite an impressive and illuminating sight.

Le Grange Park is the spawling landscaped garden devoted , exclusively , to roses ! The unofficial estimate is one rose bush per square meter.
The Treille Promenade : though strictly not a park, is a 16th. Century pathway lined with chestnut trees. One of these trees is The Official Herald of Spring. Though climate and other factors now play havoc with seasons and there's no longer any connection between seasons and life patterns, the city of Geneva still maintains an Official to check for the first bud appearing on it, after winter and put out a formal notice about arrival of spring ! Traditions !

High above the Aegean Sea...

2009-09-18T21:21:00.000+05:30

There was a picture of an event called Red Bull Cliff Diving World Series in the newspapers. The building forming the backdrop to the competitors looked familiar. Cape Sounion ! So, Sounion has some life after all ! When we visited the place some five odd years ago, it was dead. Absolutely dead.

During a holiday in Athens, we were badgered, almost bullied , into taking the trip to the historical promontory on the west coast of the Attica region , supposed to be home to The Temple Of Poseidon.
We took the Highway 91 out of Athens and wound past beautiful little hamlets scattered along what is called the Aegean Riviera, the road hugging lengthy stretches of shimmering seacoast. It was a very enjoyable drive.

70 kms. later we landed on a hillock by the choppy waters of the Aegean Sea. A signpost announced Sounion. We marched from the parking lot through a ramp like pathway between high stone walls and soon emerged on the small plateau. But............. no Poseidon, no temple. Just two rows of giant marble columns with neither roof nor walls. Presumed date : 440 BC. Time, tide and theft had stripped the monument of all its glory ; whatever was left was, in modern times, carted off to museums for safe keeping. So, at the end of a long, expectant jouney, we just had a dozen massive coloumns to stare at. Our power of imagination had to be summoned to fill in the blanks.

A bit of ambling around the cliff top brought us to another, smaller but equally ruined, remnant of an ancient temple, this one to Athena. And some dark , decayed lines of stacked stones lay around carrying the echos from the glorious past when Athenians fortified this cape in preparation for The Peloponnesian War against the Spartans .
The breathtaking panoramic view of the sea on three sides more than made up for the deficiency in visible history. It was possible to sit on the boulders at the edge of the headland under the canopy of a dazzling blue sky, without sense of time , and lose oneself in the invigorating sea-breeze, the gentle warmth of a friendly sun and the call of the circling gulls. The smudges of green and brown seen on the water were little islands, each with its own share of history and mythology. I avoided dwelling on the rather sad legend of Aegeus,Theseus and Minotaur that is linked to the place.

Cape Sounion is promoted as an excellent venue for watching sunsets. Its easy to see why. But we did not wait till dusk.
Before heading back, we decided to get some refreshment in the only modern amenity there. A small cottage with a tavern and a coffee shop. The fare sold here is prohibitively expensive. ( my coffee cost 4 .5Euros ! )Understandable, since even the nearest village, from where the stocks could be replenished, is some distance away . This being a "protected" site, building or development activity of any sort is prohibited.

The romantic english poet, Lord Byron,( my teenage heart throb !) is said to have etched his signature at the base of one of the coloumns of Sounion. But since there was a cordon around the foundation, i could not get close enough to hunt it down. All we could see were some scratched graffitti , of various vintages, here and there ( that explains the cordon) . Had to be content with the thought that one of them was Byron's.

On our way back to Athens, we saw many fishing boats returning to coast. People clustering around the fresh catch, some music and dancing around community barbeques, seagulls everywhere. Simple, lively and so merry. Perhaps, the scene would've been the same , all those eons ago,when Poseidon lorded it over the Aegean Coast.

( Photos : by son)

Samsara in Microcosm

2009-09-06T22:17:00.000+05:30

The picture in recent newspapers,of priests entering the Pashupatinath Temple in Nepal amidst a tight cordon of armed police made sad viewing. Is this any way for a worshiper to enter a House of God ? With guns ! Sign of the times.......

Many theories are floating around about the origin of the tradition of South Indian Priests in Pashupatinath. None actually substantiated. For all we know,the practice may have started as a practical solution for some predicament in the hazy past - a time, when the map of the world was completely different and equation between kingdoms completely different too. In today's changed scenario in a cartographically changed world, holding on to an unusual arrangement just to satisfy a "tradition" seems to me to be a sure way to invite repeated sociological snafus. After all, we , today, need visas to visit the holiest of our icons, Mt. Kailas, while our rishi-munis of yore could wander there at will without getting arrested for illegal immigration !

Pashupatinath Temple, situated in a valley near Deopatan, is a beautiful place of worship where the whole gamut of human existance plays out in micro format each and every day.
The hermit god is housed within gold and silver doors. All the superstar devatas of the pantheon have subsidiary shrines, while demonic figures stand sentinel around the courtyard. Sculptures depict lovely apsaras and gotesque gargoyles with equal attention to detail. Past kings, immortalised in stone and bronze sit atop tall coloumns adoring the lord, while the presently homeless clank their cans in hope of alms. Fearsome looking ascetics lounge under erotic art panels, lost in self inquiry and chillum smoke. Thieving monkeys make merry with the rice and fruit offerings left before the minor shrines. Babies are brought to be blessed with a prosperous life. Women in red keep vows for domestic bliss. Just beyond the portals, on the ghats along river Bagmathi, lie cremated bodies , smouldering slowly into ash. Ecstatic Bhajans and mournful dirges rise up to mingle with the clanging of bells and the rumble of the hoards. The Lord of all Pasus(living beings), as an august chaturmukha lingam, presides over everything in beatific serenity.

Only Hindus are allowed to enter the courtyard. Before entering , all leather articles are to be left behind. Non Hindus can have a seat on the balcony- like promontory on the river bank and watch the cremations. And have a fill of the gilded pagodas and golden pinnacles of this UNESCO World Heritage Site, dating from about the third century AD.

I wish dredging and desilting operations are undertaken frequently to release the emaciated Bagmati River from the thrall of effluents,plastics and abominable algae. Pitiable condition.

Three visuals retained, bright and clear, in memory :
1. The enormous golden Nandi
2. The thicket of tridents,lances and pennants standing massed in the courtyard.
3. The row of perfectly aligned pavilions - votive shrines with lingams commemorating deceased royalty - outside the courtyard. ( Called "Pandra Shivalay ")

HER place in "HIS"tory

2009-08-30T23:30:00.000+05:30

The auspicious season is upon us again, with festivals and holy days lined up on the calender. Priests , who are needed to officiate the various rituals, are in much demand. Advance booking is necessary. Looks like there are less and lesser men opting for that profession now; while the experienced ones are quietly sailing off to greener western pastures. With such scarcity prevailing, some concerned voices are sometimes heard about the desirability of training ladies for priesthood. And there are an equal number of energetic voices opposing this idea as a sacrilege.
This latter stand seems rather foolish to me, considering that both the worshipped God and worshipping Soul are Gender-less.

That debate may never be settled, but it was a nice to know that there are certain institutes in Maharashtra that have been training women to be priests, since a few years now.

When we visited Allappey ( Alapuzhai) in Kerala State a couple of months ago, we were pleasantly surprised by a coincidence. All three temples we visited had traditions which put Woman on top, in some way.
1. Mannarsala Nagaraja Temple is completely "manned" by women priests.
2. Chakkulathukavu Vana Durga temple has a unique tradition called Naari Pooja : i.e. offering regular worship to women, seen as the embodiment of the presiding goddess for a day.
3. Chenganoor Mahadevar temple, which is considered a Shakthi Peetam, consults a High Priestess , for her approval and sanction to carry out a unique and important ritual.

Chakkulaththukaavu , near Thiruvalla in Alapuzha, is a clean and bright temple with newly built shrines and a huge gold covered Dwajasthambham. It is situated within a grove, between the rivers Pampa and Manimala. Beautiful setting. Every year during Dhanurmasa ( December-January), women devotees observe month long austerities and end up as The Godesses of The Day when the temple priests do pooja to them exactly as they would to the idol of Durga enshrined there. The credo is : " Where Women are respected, There reigns Prosperity, Where Women are dishonoured , There spreads Ruin "

Chenganoor Mahadevar Temple is a very beautiful shrine , with an unusual circular building. Shiva's sanctum faces east, Devi's faces west, but it cannot be said that the one is in front and the other at the back, because of the circular structure. This itself is significant, balancing the Male and the Female aspects of the One superpower.
There's a belief that the Devi idol here menstruates periodically and it is during this event that the High Priestess takes precedence over the everday priests in determining the details of the purificatory rituals.

MANNARSALA NAGARAJA TEMPLE is the most unique of all temples i have seen anywhere.
What is it like to be in the midst of 30,000 snakes ? - well, they are stone snakes, no doubt. But still, there's an involuntary shudder as one walks into the dense jungle patch, silent and over grown with creepy looking vines and stragglers clutching on to huge, ancient trees. Strewn about are hundreds of stone images of snakes. As natural likeness, as artistic representations, as the Naga-stones related to fertility rites. Coiled, dancing, entwined, draped, all kinds. Had there been a real speciman lurking underfoot, one would not even have known !
On either side of the path leading to the temple are fences keeping the jungle from invading the temple. Just beyond the fence are visible rows upon rows of Naga-stones ( sculpted votive offerings) arranged in battalions like an eerie army of Snakemen emerging from waves of dried leaves and twigs.

Inside the thicket, it is dark even at midday. Temple proper is like a keralite mansion with tiled roof. There are only oil lamps in the sanctum, so the main images of the deities in the three niches are unclear - just some vague forms with loads of jewels and garlands and vermillion smears. We are told they are Nagaraja - who is both the Anantha Serpent of Vishnu and The Vasuki serpent of Siva - and his consorts, Nagayakshi and Sarpayakshi.

The most uncommon aspect of this temple is that it was founded by a holy woman , born in the lineage of the favourite deciple of Parasurama . Since its establishment, the temple has been presided over only by women priests . They are well versed in Vedas , Sanskrit and traditions. It is believed they can communicate with snakes too.
The Temple's Priestess is revered by all as Valiamma or The Great Mother. And she lives in the sacred grove itself, in the traditional home of the clan. With 30,000 stone snakes around her. And an equal number of live ones in the jungly yard for company. Yeeew ! Only unswerving Faith can make people follow such life patterns.

Snakes have, since time immemorial, been connected with fertlity rites. The bane of childlessness is sought to be cured by propitiating the snake gods . Beautiful images of entwined snakes with the chosen deity within the umbrella of the hoods can be seen in most hindu temples. In Mannarsala there's a surfeit. In addition to these votive images, there's a custom here of leaving a small bronze bowl , face down, in the premises. As soon as the desired wish is granted, the person comes back to turn the bowl up, now presumably brimming with nagaraja's blessings.
What could be the connection between snakes and reproduction, i wonder ? But the Double Helix of the DNA and the entwined snakes of the Naga-stones do look similar !!!