REFLECTIONS
Classics revisited
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A weekend television series on "Lost Temples of India" prompted VIJAYSHREE VENKATRAMAN to actually look around to see if the temples were still there.
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THE HINDU PHOTO LIBRARY
Can these temples possibly be lost? Nataraja Temple, Chidambaram.
I AM a non-resident Indian. Like some modern day Trishanku I find myself stuck between two worlds. My personal cloud nine-and-a-half is my Boston home where I sat watching the "Learning Channel" one Sunday.
The "Lost Temples of India" was being aired as part of the weekend "Mysteries of Asia" series. A city kid from a not-very-religious Hindu family, I was dragged to temples on the rare occasions my family went, but the title of the episode disconcerted me. Can temples possibly be "lost"?
"Western tourists flock to India's symbolic monument — the unparalleled Taj Mahal, which immortalises the love of Emperor Shahjahan for his wife Mumtaz. Southern India with its architectural wonders is not on any tourist map and remains lost to the world," the introductory voiceover said.
I decided to personally verify that these Southern temples were still standing on my next trip to India. My parents, who lived in Madras, agreed to accompany me. So here we were on the road lined by the emerald rice fields along the red banks of the Cauvery.
"`Bad times befall gods same as mortals'; that is how I see it," Selvaraj, our driver-cum-guide, declared. The Thanjavur district is renowned for its splendid temples from the medieval Chola period. Not all of them draw worshippers now. The priests barely find resources to perform the regular pujas. And these neglected Gods — what wishes could they grant? Consequently only the currently popular and "powerful" shrines were worth visiting, according to the driver. This was not the trip I had in mind but my dad had a checklist of shrines to be covered.
At the old and popular Chidambaram temple, devotees circled the sanctum in determined loops to the festive chants at noon. Barely catching a glimpse of the idol, I edged away from the turmeric-faced housewives into an inner corridor. Overhead yalis grinned and asked: "Is she going to give up so easily?" I cannot believe I had not made the mocking acquaintance of these fantastic creatures before. All pervasive as decorative motifs these wicked monsters keep evil spirits away from sacred premises. As metaphysical mirror images, yalis remind us we have various animal instincts rolled into this human form. Grimacing back at my boar-eared, lion-faced tormentors, I felt hopeful. Maybe things would go my way tomorrow.
Finally at the gates of the temple featured in the television show, a delicately made-up resident elephant greeted us. Granite gatekeepers loomed over the entrance with their menacing gestures: Stop, Enter and Don't-even-think-of-it. The cops below assisted them with metal detectors. In a post 9/11-world, airports are not the only places with heightened security. It was the week of December 6, the anniversary of the demolition of the Babri mosque. The fear of retribution appears to have travelled despite the communal harmony in the south. A local Muslim couple waited with their child to pose with the elephant quite unmindful of all this.
THE HINDU PHOTO LIBRARY
Brihadeeswarar temple, Thanjavur.
Commissioned by the Chola emperor Rajaraja I (AD 985-1017) the Brihadeeswarar temple stands tall and proud like a dull gold citadel. Its tower — a trigonometric wonder — never darkens the earth below with its shadow. Shiva graces the niches as mendicant, lover merging androgynously into his consort, demon slayer and family man. The Lord of the Cosmic Dance watched amusedly as chipmunks raced down the fluid length of his sun-drenched limbs. In the evenings, exquisite bronze replicas of the deities travel bedecked in palanquins to bestow blessings on the townsfolk.
Rajaraja Museum, our next stop, had a collection of bronze and stone Chola sculpture unearthed from various sites in five centuries after they were buried for safety from iconoclastic Muslim generals. In their stark splendour, these "homeless" idols are familiar figures on the international museum circuit.
Piecing together the information available, we learnt that between the 9th and 13th Centuries the Cholas ruled most of India, Sri Lanka and parts of the Malay Archipelago. Their maritime presence allowed trade with Southeast Asia and left a lasting impact on the art and architecture of the region. The best-known example is Cambodia's Angkor Wat. This makes the temple we visited central to Chola power, hence its local name the Big Temple.
"Are there other `small' temples, true heirs to this grand one?" my father asked. Thankfully he had forgotten his list of popular shrines. Our next stop was Gangaikondacholapuram. The capital of Rajaraja's son Rajendra I (AD 1012-44) lay desolate except for the beautiful temple with its commemorative well. Coconut palms swayed gently in the cool lawns. The schoolboys who wandered in to play cricket were chased away by a zealous guard who thoughtfully confiscated the ball. The serene environs gave us a chance to reflect on all that we had seen and heard on the last couple of days.
My mother mentioned in passing that a popular Tamil weekly had serialised a historical romance by Kalki, based on the life of Rajaraja Chola, when she was growing up. The epic "Ponniyin Selvan" had captured the imagination of readers and it had a following every bit as keen as the audience of present day mega serials. With a hero like this it was bound to be a hit. Back in Chennai, I picked up the six volumes of this novel. My mother was incredulous. I could not read Tamil well to begin with. I barely knew the alphabets. But she did not have the heart to discourage me. The minute I started reading, I was transported back in time and space to Chola period. I simply jumped on another horse and joined the adventure with the valorous Vandhiyathevan, the messenger of the royal family. He finally meets the charismatic Arulmozhi Varman — Ponniyin Selvan — in distant Sri Lanka. Arulmozhi, inspired by the beautiful giant Buddhas in Eelam, tells his sister that Tamil gods don't have temples to match their stature. A massive Nandi would stand guard at the Dakshinmeru — a befitting new abode he planned to build for them. If thoughts precede actions, this conversation was the blueprint for the temple we visited thousand years later.
His wanderlust takes him far and wide and when he finally ascended the throne he is a better ruler for all the experience and education which travel granted him.
How could I have gotten into the minds of the characters from the past if I refused to think with them in the same language? The journey would not be the same. I feel I have reclaimed my heritage, in part, with this marathon read.
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