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Chaturanga

~ statecraft, strategy, society, and Σοφíα

Chaturanga

Tag Archives: ASI

Lost in Pandya Country

23 Mon Feb 2015

Posted by Jaideep A. Prabhu in Society, Travelogue

≈ Comments Off on Lost in Pandya Country

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Agastya, Alakiyameyyar, Alvar, Anantashayana, Annamalai, Anwar Khan, Anwarnathan, Archaeological Survey of India, Arikesari Parankusa Maravarman, Ariyanantha Mudaliar, Arulmigu Azhagiya Nambirayar Temple, Ashta Shakti mantapam, ASI, Ayiramkaal mantapam, Émile Durkheim, Bhaktavatsala Perumal Temple, Brahmadesam, Calambur Sivaramamurti, Chakkara lingam, Cheranmahadevi, Divya Desam, Divya Prabhanda, ethupathi Vijaya Ragunatha Thevar, India, jasminum sambac, kalyanasundara, Kanchipuram, Koodal Alagar, Madurai, Madurai Kanchi, mallige, Mani mantapam, Meenakshi Amman Temple, musical pillar, Nambi Rayar Temple, Nampaduvan, Nataraja, Nayanar, Nindraseernedumaran, Paadal Petra Sthalam, Pallikontarulina Alvar, pancha sabhai, Pandya, Porthamarai Kulam, profane, Rajendra Chola I, Rudrapathi Ammal, Sabesan, sacred, Sambandar, sannadhi, Satyagirisvarar, Satyamoorthi, Shaivism, shukla ekadashi, Silappathikaaram, srigandha, Sundareshwar, Tadaatagai, Tamira Sabha, Tevaram, Thirumalai Nayak, Thirumangai, Thirumayam, Thirumeyyamalaiyalan, Thiruvilaiyadalpuranam, Tholimamal, Tirumurai, Tirunelveli, travelogue, TV Sundaram, TVS Group, Vaikunta Perumal Temple, Vaishnavism, velli ambalam, Venuvanam, Vishwanatha Nayak

Madurai. There is something quite charming in the name itself though I cannot quite put my finger on it. It is said that the town derives its name from madhuram, meaning sweetness, because a few drops of nectar trickled down from Shiva’s matted locks and fell on it. The story has a nice ring to it, and I almost want to believe it. Another legend says that Madurai was the site of the third Tamil Sangam or assembly of poets, the first two host cities lost to the sea (I refuse to say Kumari Kandam!). While these tales seem to find some alibis in the Ramayana and the Arthashastra, the first clear record of such claims comes from significantly recent texts of the 7th century. No matter, Madurai is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities of India with Greek and Sri Lankan sources dating the city to at least 2,550 years ago; only Varanasi, Avantika, and Rajgir claim older founding. Perhaps it was this suggestion of a connection to a hallowed past that draws me to Madurai.

Tamil NaduI had been to Madurai once before when I was young and foolish enough to be seduced away from the Roman virtues of gravitas, pietas, dignitas, and virtus by technology and modernity. Consequently, I saw and understood little of the town or its place in the history and culture of India. Standing on the Vaigai, today, Madurai is the third largest settlement in Tamil Nadu with a population of slightly over a million and is home to several industries. Well connected to the larger metropoles by air, road, and rail, Madurai is a destination for pilgrims as well as for tourists. In fact, mis compadres arrived in Madurai for our (long) weekend excursion through Pandyan country via these multiple options.

Madurai 2Our first destination could be none other than the Meenakshi Amman Kovil around which Madurai is centred. The temple site is undoubtedly ancient as it has been mentioned in several of the Tamil epics but the actual structure had to be rebuilt by the Nayaks in the late 1500s after the original building met with the tender loving care of Malik Kafur and his hordes in the 1310. Meenakshi Amman Kovil has 14 gopuram, each approximately 50 metres in height, and two golden vimanas above the shrines of Meenakshi and Shiva, who is known as Sundareshwar in Madurai. In all, the temple has 32 shrines but it has two primary shrines because it celebrates the marriage of Meenakshi and Sundereshwar. To this day, Sundareshwar is carried to Meenakshi’s shrine, led by drummers and a brass band, just before the temple closes and is returned to his shrine only at dawn.

Kalyanasundari fresco, MaduraiMeenakshi is supposed to be a Pandyan princess who married Lord Shiva. As the mythology goes, Meenakshi was born to the second Pandyan king, Malayadhwaja, and his wife Kanchanamalai, in answer to their prayers after they had remained childless for long. At birth, Tadaatagai, as the child was called, had three breasts but a voice from the heavens told the royal couple not to worry as the third breast would disappear as soon as the princess met a husband worthy of her. The king was overjoyed and trained his daughter in all the shastras as he would a crown prince. After completing her education and before her coronation, Tadaatagai went on a round of conquest; she easily conquered all who opposed her until she came upon Shiva. Unable to fight him, Tadaatagai realised that her third breast had also disappeared. Shiva agreed to come to Madurai and marry the Pandyan princess, and preparations were made with full vigour. Vishnu, Meenakshi’s brother, was supposed to do the kanyadaanam but was delayed by Indra and missed the wedding, arriving a day late. Furious at the prank, he vowed never to enter Madurai again. The Koodal Alagar Temple to him that stands inside Madurai was once in the town’s suburbs and became part of Madurai as the agglomeration expanded. When Meenakshi and Sundareshwar found out what happened, they rushed to Vishnu’s camp on the Vaigai and implored him not to be offended. Mollified, Vishnu blessed the newly weds and gave them all the gifts he had brought for them.

However, the kalyanasundara murti and several paintings inside the Meenakshi Amman Temple show Vishnu performing the kanyadaanam. This is a puzzle I am yet to decipher…unless the local deity who presided over the marriage was subsequently seen as an avataar of Vishnu. Also, if anyone knows what trick Indra played on Vishnu and why, I would be most interested to know. One more question I have about Madurai that no one seems to be able to answer is why the town is known by the sobriquet, Athens of the East.

Pothramarai KulamMeenakshi Amman Temple is fairly large, sprawling over 45 acres of land. Apparently, Vishwanatha Nayak reoriented Madurai to align with the temple when he rebuilt the place according to the shilpa shastras  in the mid to late 1500s. You can tell, however, that parts of the temple are older than others – the destruction wrought by Islamic invaders was not absolute. The architecture and style are dead giveaways between Pandyan and Nayak handiwork. The temple’s kalyani, Porthamarai Kulam, is famous for the lotus in its middle; in fact, the name of the water reservoir means exactly that – Pond with a Golden Lotus. There are also several long passages and mantapams that are lined with pillars sculpted with incidents from Hindu mythology. Since I have a thing for Devi worship, I liked the Ashta Shakti mantapam though it gets little mention in most accounts of the temple. The mantapam was built by Thirumalai Nayak’s wives, Rudrapathi Ammal and Tholimamal, in the mid-1600s and is quite recent by Indian standards. Unfortunately, the statues of the eight shaktis are lost amidst shops, shoppers, and sight-seers and it is difficult to appreciate the sculptures undisturbed. Although Hindu temples have always been hubs of commercial, intellectual, and cultural as well as spiritual activity, I was disconcerted by the crowds and the damage they would do to the four-centuries-old building.

Srilakshmi, MaduraiPerhaps the most famous feature of the temple is its thousand-pillared hall that actually only has only 985 columns. Like almost anything in India, this too has a mythological reason behind it but what makes it interesting is its similarity to several other tales from different cultures around the world. As the tale goes, a dwarf came to Meenakshi one day and challenged her to a duel. Looking upon his diminutive size, the queen laughed and suggested he fight the general of the army instead. The dwarf agreed and in short time, dispatched him. Meenakshi realised that this dwarf was no ordinary dwarf, that he had magic powers. So she challenged him to build a thousand-pillared hall by sunset; if he succeeded, Meenakshi would have to do the same but if the dwarf failed, he would have to kill himself. The dwarf went about completing the challenge; with his magic, he summoned stone, shaped it, sculpted it, and polished it into pillars. He built the roof and the dais. Around midday, the dwarf stopped for a break. As anyone who has experienced the brutal Tamil Nadu sun can attest, that seems most reasonable! Upon awakening, he continued with his task. He had completed 985 pillars when Meenakshi discreetly threw up one of her earrings and blocked the sun for a few minutes. Seeing the sun disappear, the dwarf accepted defeat and kept his end of the bargain, leaving the hall forever incomplete.

Sambandar, MaduraiIn the realm of mortals, the hall was built in 1569 by Ariyanantha Mudaliar, the prime minister of Vishwanatha Nayak. Today, it has been converted into a museum and holds several statues, carvings, and paintings that depict the encounter of Sambandar with the Jains. According to Shaivite legend, when the Pandyan king Koon converted to Jainism, the Nayanar poet Sambandar was invited to Madurai by the queen and the king’s minister to curb the growing influence of Buddhism and Jainism. The legend states that the Jains set fire to Sambandar’s dwelling but the latter transferred the heat to the king’s body through his spiritual powers. The Jains could not cure the king of his affliction but Sambandar could, and disconcerted at being shown inferior, the Jains challenged Sambandar to several challenges and debate. Sambandar defeated the Jains in all the challenges and upon their further refusal to accept Shaivism, the king had them executed by making them sit on sharp conical protrusions that penetrated their nether regions. However, while Shaivite traditions mention this “mass execution,” Jain sources are silent on the matter and historians do not think any such event occurred – the tale was to merely illustrate Shaivaite supremacy.

Nataraja in thousand pillared hall, Meenakshi Amman KovilThe most capturing sight in the hall is undoubtedly the Nataraja in the front and centre, on a slightly raised dais. With the lamps surrounding him and the lighting effects, Shiva looks absolutely spellbinding. We simply sat before the statue for a few minutes to soak in the beauty of the tandav-performing Shiva. Incidentally, Meenakshi Amman Temple is also one of the pancha sabhai, or one of the five places where Shiva danced his tandav on a dais and is worshipped in the Nataraja form rather than as a lingam – or more accurately, alongside the usual non-anthropomorphic shrines to him. The Nataraja statue at the Meenakshi temple plated with silver and hence the stage is called velli ambalam.

Left legged Nataraja, Meenakshi Amman KovilWhat is particularly interesting regarding Nataraja and Meenakshi is that one of the primary Nataraja idols – there are quite a few all over the temple – stands on his left leg with the right leg crossing his body. The legend behind this, as per the Thiruvilaiyadalpuranam, is that one of Shiva’s most sincere devotees was the Pandyan king Rajashekhara who was himself a dancer. Understanding the difficulty of standing on one leg for so long, the king requested his Lord to shift his stance. A more empirical version for those trapped in utilitarian and realist modes of thinking might perhaps be sought in Calambur Sivaramamurti’s magisterial Nataraja in Art, Thought and Literature.

Throughout the temple, there are several sets of musical pillars. Some of these stone pillars also vibrate and create resonance as they are played in conjunction with others. While at first this phenomenon used to amaze me, it seems not uncommon in many of the old South Indian temples – I have counted at least eight or ten temples that have them.

Thousand pillar hall, Meenakshi Amman KovilOne cannot finish any narration about the Meenakshi Amman Temple without mentioning the Meenakshi idol itself. There is, as one can imagine, a fairly long queue to get in for darshan but a special entrance is available for a fee of ₹100. Nothing adorns a temple more than the idol of the main deity and Meenakshi was resplendent. Clad in green silk, Meenakshi was simple, elegant, and graceful with a charming smile on her lips. It is a pity that one cannot photograph the main deity in a temple but Meenakshi, with her ever-present parrot on her shoulder, is undoubtedly one of the better art works in her temple.

Kali, MaduraiWe spent half a day at Meenakshi Amman Temple and it was nowhere near enough. However, such mega complexes are best seen over time, either in multiple visits or over three or four days for half a day each. During our visit, I would not say that the temple was crowded but it certainly was not empty. I am sure these temples were once places where people used to go to relax. Those were also the days when the population of the town was perhaps 25,000 and not everyone was allowed entry; today, at over a million people, the only temples that are nice and relaxing are those no one knows about!

We broke for lunch and given the group’s inclination and the short duration of our trip, decided to skip Thirumalai Nayak Palace altogether and head to Thirumayam instead. From what I hear, the palace is definitely worth a visit – built in a fusion of Dravidian and Islamic styles in the mid-1600s by the same king whose wives built the Ashta Shakti mantapam, the palace has been damaged and renovated several times by its several owners. I am told that parts of the palace grounds and some of its buildings have long been incorporated into the city and only the core of the the royal residence remains.

But to more important things – lunch! There is no problem regarding food in Madurai. If one is not fond of South Indian cuisine, northern cuisine is also available. There are plenty of clean restaurants and hotels so sustenance and lodging should be no problem for visitors. What will be a problem is the weather – we went in mid-February and though the nights were deceptively cool, the daytime sun was scorching. It was not hot as much as it was sunny, so much so that the ground was too hot to walk on barefoot – we had left our footwear in the car and once we left the temple, even the local members of our unit – presumably accustomed to the climate of their land – had to hike up their mundus and run to the car to get off the hot ground! The temple itself, however, was cool and offered shade in the unforgiving Tamil Nadu sun.

Gajalakshmi, ThirumayamAbout an hour and a quarter from Madurai, Thirumayam is not a popular tourist destination, domestic or foreign, and unfortunately so. Most people you bump into at Thirumayam’s two historical temples – Sathyagirisvarar and Sathyamoorthi – are either locals or aficionados of South Indian history and architecture. Both these temples, cut out of rock, stand below the Thirumayam fort. Built by Sethupathi Vijaya Ragunatha Thevar, ruler of Ramanathapuram, in 1687, the fort is smaller today than it used to be and has been renovated by the Archaeological Survey of India. We did not go to the fort as we had little time before the sun set and we wanted to maximise the time spent in the temples. The Shiva temple is a little older than the Vishnu temple and both have received assistance from the ASI for their maintenance and renovation. The new work is very apparent as it is completely unadorned unlike the originals.

Sudarshana, ThirumayamTruth be told, I was not floored by Thirumayam. That may partly be due to the very high standards Tamil and Karnataka temples have made me accustomed to. Nonetheless, the temples were certainly picturesque, nestled under the rock face. The garbhagudi of the Vishnu temple was huge (compared to other temples) and had a large relief – some nine metres from end to end – of Anantashayana. Vishnu is calming Shesha down, who is upset that Madhu and Kaitabha would dare attack his master. Vishnu’s weapons are anthropomorphised and shown attacking the demons as the gods, saptarishis, and others look on. The relief was covered with oil and completely blackened to preserve it from the elements.

The date of construction of the Satyamoorthi temple is disputed. It basically comes down to an inscription that speaks of renovation work being carried out. However, scholars cannot agree whether the inscription belongs to the late 7th century or second half of the 8th century. The first would put the temple’s excavation in the late 500s while the latter would put it a century later. Another interesting factoid about the temple is that it was not always called the Satyamoorthi Temple. Several inscriptions show it being referred to as Pallikontarulina Alvar or Alakiyameyyar. Its present name is thought to have come from the Alwar poet Thirumangai who referred to Vishnu as Thirumeyyamalaiyalan, the Tamil equivalent of Satyamoorthi. This would date the name to the Vijayanagara period.

The Satyagirisvarar Temple has a lingam in the central shrine and the dwarapalaks are both anthropomorphised weapons of Shiva. What is interesting about the lingam is that it is one with the ground – as this was a rock-cut temple, the craftsmen carved around a lingam emanating from the floor rather than place an extraneous piece of rock. On the opposite wall is a carving of Lingodbhava. Like the Satyamoorthi temple, this one also carries several inscriptions. Some of them tell the story of Thirumayam torn by the rivalry between Shaivism and Vaishnavism. The village changed hands several times and each ruler patronised one of the deities more than the other.

It was dark when we got back to Madurai. Upon reflection, we should have come to Thirumayam in the morning and visited Meenakshi Amman in the afternoon. That would have spared us driving at night as well as see both sites properly, for Meenakshi Amman is well lit in the evenings. The distance between Madurai and Thirumayam is about 80 kms and there are several buses connecting the two. However, hiring a taxi may be the better option if you are pressed for time. The next morning, we had the famed Madurai idli for breakfast but I think South Canara has it beat by a long shot. To be fair, I will grant that our hotel might not have provided the best sample for testing – after all, it is no Iyer mess! We set out for Tirunelveli, 160 kms to the south of Madurai, by mid-morning.

Until I visited the place, I had trouble even pronouncing Tirunelveli and did not know about the Nellaiappar Temple there. A small town, Tirunelveli is nonetheless well connected to major local and regional cities by road, rail, and air. For tourists, though a bit off the beaten path, accommodations and food should be no problem to secure. It is also a very old settlement, perhaps as old as Madurai, for records mention it as far back as the 4th century before the common era. The halwa from this town is very famous but is basically an oilier version of what is prevalent in South Canara – both are quite yummy!

Nelliappar, near the tamra mantapam - TirunelveliNellaiappar Temple was a real discovery for me, as I am sure it will be for most tourists – while there was no dearth of Marathi, Gujarathi, Hindi, French, Spanish, and Italian speaking people at Kanchipuram, Mamallapuram, Khajuraho, Belur, or any of the dozens of other historical places of interest in India, the temple at Tirunelveli had a very local clientele. Nellaiappar Temple is about 1,300 years old though like many temples in the South, later dynasties have added to it in an effort to leave their imprint on the shrine and in the history books. By surpassing the original creation, the later rulers hoped to take ownership of, or the credit for, the entire temple. Within the Nellaiappar Temple is also a shrine to Kanthimathi, the consort. Technically, this used to be a separate temple but was merged into one large complex by Thiru Vadamalaiappa Pillaiyan in 1647 when he built the chain mantapam.

The temple is actually quite big – some 14 acres, if I remember correctly. Tirunelveli is also one of the pancha sabhai, and has the Tamira Sabha. The name derives from the copper – taamirai – exterior roof of the sabha. The interior side of the roof has exquisite wood carvings but unfortunately, the sabha was locked when we were there and we could only peer in from the door. The condition of the wood makes me think the roof is no more than five centuries old but I could be mistaken and the builders may have coated the wood with some preservative. The sabha itself, however, is probably older than the roof which could easily be replaced or redone by later rulers. Unlike Madurai, however, Shiva stands on his right leg here.

Passage, NellaiapparLike the Meenakshi Amman Temple, Nellaiappar Temple also has musical pillars – in the Mani mantapam, the musical pillars were arranged such that one central pillar had several smaller pillars of varying circumference around it; there were several such “core pillars” and the amazing thing about it all is that they were all carved out of one single block of stone! The Mani mantapam was built by Arikesari Parankusa Maravarman, the same king whose “ghar wapasi” from Jainism was depicted on one of the murals at Meenakshi Amman Temple. Maravarman is also known as Nindraseernedumaran and Koon Pandiyan, the hunchback Pandyan.

Nellaiappar happens to be, I found out after I returned from my trip, one of the 275 paadal petra sthalam. Basically, it is one of the Shiva temples named by the Nayanars in their hymns and poetry in praise of Lord Shiva in the twelve-volume Tirumurai. And you thought the Alwars made long lists with their 108 divya desams in the Divya Prabhandam! The overwhelming majority of these 275 paadal petra sthalam are in Tamil Nadu, a few in South India outside of Tamil Nadu, three in the north (Gowri Kund, Kedarnath, Kailash), and one in Nepal.

Mantapam, NellaiapparThere are several legends associated with Nellaiappar as is true with any temple in South India. One says that Tirunelveli was where the great sage Agastya got a darshan of Lord Shiva, while another suggests that it was where Rama worshipped Shiva for his Pasupata astra before invading Ceylon. This would be the same Pasupata astra that Arjuna asked for on Indrakeel mountain. Seems like the arms industry was well and ticking even back then! As for the origins of the temple itself, it is said that Shiva once came to Tirunelveli and the four vedas stood around him in the form of a bamboo forest. Thanks to the bamboo forest, the area got the name, Venuvanam. A local brahmin who used to walk by the forest would frequently trip on the same root and spill the milk he had been carrying. One day, the man finally decided to cut away the root and came with an axe. When he struck at the offending root, however, blood started to ooze out. Scared, he ran off to call the king. When the king’s men excavated the site, they found a lingam with a gash in it. Apparently, the lingam in the garbhagudi today still has a cut in it though I could not see it in the dark and through the shringar.

One final legend about how the place itself got its name – a brahmin lived in the forest and begged for alms which he would offer Lord Shiva and then partake as prasadam. One day, as was his habit, he went to bathe in the Tamraparni before his midday prayers. Just then, it started to rain heavily. The brahmin, who was immersed in the river was dismayed that all the alms he had collected would be washed away and fervently prayed that the paddy he had collected remain safe. When the brahmin rushed back to his dwelling, he found that there had been a torrential downpour all around the area except in a circle around his alms and the lingam. The place acquired the name Tirunelveli henceforth, tiru meaning beautiful, nel meaning paddy, and veli meaning fence.

Nellaiappar, TirunelveliThe main shrine of Tirunelveli has a shivalingam, obviously, but right next to it is a shrine to Vishnu, known as Nellai Govindan. It shows Vishnu reclining on and trying to pacify Shesha just like at Thirumayam. The temple has several shrines to various forms of Shiva – Bhikshatanamurthi, Dakshinamurthi, Nataraja, Chandikeshwara, and Thirumoolanathar. Of course, shrines to Shiva’s two sons, Ganesha and Shanmuga, are also present. One interesting shrine I noticed was a two-piece Ravana Anugraha shrine. As you approach, you see Ravana lifting Kailasa; right next to the shrine is a flight of stairs that takes you to a shrine directly above Ravana which holds Shiva pressing down on the mountain with his toe. Needless to mention, there are shrines to the sapta rishis, the Nayanars, the navagrahas, the sapta maatrikas, ashta Lakshmis, and Durga around the complex.

Doorway, NellaiapparA few shrines stood out to me, not necessarily for their artistic value but for questions they evoked. For example, the Bhairava shrine in the Mellaiappar Temple – does one offer it alcohol and meat the way people do in Avantika? Or is it a teetotaling vegetarian Bhairava at Tirunelveli? If so, why is there a difference? Is it local and social or does the mythology support it? There are, after all, Bhairava murthis that are angry and those that are calm. Another shrine that I noticed contained a Chakkara lingam – a lingam with many eyes. Something about it creeped me out, probably the same thing that I feel about insects’ compound eyes. I have already mentioned the Tamira Sabha but the intricate work in wood you see on the interior roof of the sabha is also visible at the entry to Nellaiappar Temple. On the doorway, as you enter, the arches are covered with tiny wooden figurines. Interestingly, some of these seem to have an erotic theme that I have only seen at Khajuraho so far.

Veerabhadra, TirunelveliThere are several sculptures outside the main shrine, showing Veerabhadra, Arjuna, Bheema, and others that seem to be from the Nayaka period. I found them exquisite, but not quite ‘alive’ as some of the salabhanjika at Belur or Ellora. However, the figurines at Nellaiappar seemed to be done in granite, much harder to manipulate than soapstone as the Pallavas found out in Mahabalipuram. Our in-house expert within the team suggested that the granite used at Tirunelveli was of a softer variety and could be shaped more easily than the rock at Mahabalipuram though still quite hard.

Perhaps the most intriguing structure at Nellaiappar was the Anwarnathan shrine. It was allegedly built by the Muslim nawab, Anwar Khan, in gratitude for his wife recovering from a painful, incurable disease and giving birth to a son after the couple had performed puja to Shiva. Not only did the nawab build a shrine, but he apparently prayed there regularly for the rest of his life. No wonder the Saudis do not consider their brethren in faith from India to be “real” Muslims…such pagan slippages, cheh!

Kanthimathi, NellaiapparIt was on the way to the Kanthimathi Temple via the Sangili mantapa that I met my good friend by the same name. My Kanthimathi, however, is a dear little elephant. The poor thing was standing there blessing pilgrims for ₹10 and spraying them with water from her trunk – don’t ask! We lolled about for a bit, enjoying the elephant’s company before we moved on as it was getting late and the Nellaiappar Temple was about to close for midday. The Kanthimathi shrine was quite breathtaking as well. I am quite picky about idols in temples but so far on this trip, I have seen only the best. Kanthimathi’s dwarapalaks are Ganga and Yamuna, and she herself stands with her parrot. A shrine to Murugan and his two consorts, Devasena and Valli, stands nearby. To southerners, this may not be of much importance but Skanda is seen as a brahmachari or with only one consort – Devasena – in the north and a shrine with both his wives would be interesting for those not from Dravidadesa.

There is no way long colonnaded corridors can be avoided in temples of this size, and there are several. In one of them, we had met Kanthimathi the elephant…because Ashwatthama, you see, was dead. The elephant, Ashwatthama 🙂 Some of us had expected Nellaiappar to be a good excursion and I had no expectations at all. I think we were all stunned by how much Nellaiappar Temple turned out to be a feast for the eyes and mind. In fact, we were so engrossed in our debate over lunch about whether Nellaiappar or Meenakshi was more beautiful that we could not be the least bit bothered about India’s bid to end its hundred percent loss record to South Africa in the World Cup! I think I may have been in a minority of one but I hold that between the Meenakshi idol, the beautiful fresco of Vishnu giving Parvati away to Shiva, that lovely Sabesan in the Ayiramkaal mantapam – the thousand-pillared hall – and the quirky Nataraja standing on his left foot, Madurai ranks slightly higher than Tirunelveli.

Thirukkurungudi, outside the ardha mantapaAfter lunch, we proceeded to Thirukkurungudi. I know, we missed several major attractions in Tirunelveli such as the Ulagamman Temple and Sankaranarayanan Temple, or if you are seeking a bit of nature, Papanasam, Kuttralam, and the Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve. Perhaps my greatest regret was missing out on Brahmadesam Temple and its famous Gangalanathar shrine. Those of you old enough to remember watching that terrible Tamil soap opera, Annamalai, on Sun TV may remember Brahmadesam as the temple in that show. The show was really hard to miss, given that they made over 750 episodes of it; thank the gods that it is over! Anyway, the temple was some 40 kms west-southwest of Tirunelveli but our destination in Thirukkurungudi was 45 kms to the south. There was no way we could have scheduled both in our itinerary.

Thirukkurungudi 1If Tirunelveli was a surprise, Thirukkurungdi was jaw-dropping. In the middle of nowhere as far as I was concerned, in a place whose name was itself a deterrent(!), there stood a spectacular Vishnu temple. The Nambi Rayar Temple, admittedly a divya desam, was simply not on my radar. Given the crowds thronging the temple, it is a safe bet that my status is shared by most people outside the immediate vicinity of the temple. You cannot tell much even standing just outside the temple for its walls surround it like a fortress; even upon entrance, I did not notice the grandeur of the place until I walked down one side of it completely almost to the back. It was then that I realised that Nambi Rayar sat on 18 acres of land and that some magnificent craftsmanship has gone into it.

Thirukkurungudi 2The temple closes at midday and reopens only around 17 00, so our decision to drive down after a late lunch was perfect. We must have got there by 16 00 and that gave us an hour to look around before having darshan and looking around some more. By the way, men are expected to remove their upper garments before receiving darshan. As I walked down the side of the temple, I saw another elephant. Something about elephants just fills me with joy and I would have probably run up to give it a big hug had it not been for its mahout standing there, looking all stern and stuff. But I forgot my dear ele as I entered the first hall. Large statues carved with attention to the minutest details adorned the pillars, and the common Nayaka leitmotif of the Pandavas, usually Arjuna and Bheema, could be seen. Scenes from the Ramayana graced the pillars as did Garuda and Narasimha. There are, of course, the usual scenes of warfare and hunting – boars being hunted, swordsmen and archers on horseback, and war elephants. The ubiquitous image of the yali was everywhere to be seen as well. Three pieces stood out: one was of Garuda standing in front of the main shrine and praying, and two were of Narasimha wherein one shows the avataara of Vishnu grab Hiranyakashipu by the neck and the other is the traditional one which shows the demon king across Narasimha’s lap with his intestines being ripped out.

Narasimha II, Thirukkurungudi Narasimha, Thirukkurungudi

Despite being dedicated to Vishnu, the Arulmigu Azhagiya Nambirayar Temple also has a Shiva sannadhi. Before oozing with self-congratulatory pride over the harmonious existence of two Hindu sects, one should also note that in 2004, the Shiva idol was removed from the temple, dumped in a granary, and the sannadhi destroyed; Nambi Rayar is managed by the Jeeyar of Thirukkurungudi. It took an order from the Madras High Court in 2010 for Mahendragirinatha, the Shiva sannadhi, to be reinstated within the temple. To be fair, this is a recent incident and Shaivites and Vaishnavites have been praying the shrines of both ishtadevas for centuries without incident. Still, this is an amusing string of events for those who are not superstitiously inclined.

ThirukkurungudiNambi Rayar Temple is approximately 1,300 years old but as seems to be the case with many Pandyan temples, later rulers left their mark on work originally crafted by the Pandyans. shukla paksha ekadasi of Karthika is considered a special day at the temple and is celebrated to this day with a dance narrating the story of Nampaduvan. Legend goes that Nampaduvan, a poor, lower caste man, was a great devotee of Vishnu. One shukla ekadasi in Kartika, he was crossing a dense forest to go to the temple. On his way, he was intercepted by a rakshasa who had not eaten for days; starving, the rakshasa announced to Nampaduvan that he was going to eat him. Nampaduvan remained nonplussed, and told the rakshasa that death comes to all and he is not bothered. However, he must go to the temple and sing praises of Lord Vishnu for ekadasi and after that he would return to the rakshasa. The demon did not trust the man despite all the promises and entreaties made until Nampaduvan declared that the sin of all those who equate Vishnu with other deities would cling to him if he did not return. *ahem!* Upon hearing this, the rakshasa agreed.

Nampaduvan fulfils his desires but on the way back, he meets an old man who insists that the young devotee not be so stupid as to return to the rakshasa. However, the young man stubbornly refuses to change his decision and eventually the old man reveals himself to be none other than Vishnu and blesses Nampaduvan and goes away. The rakshasa is astonished that his meal has actually returned to him and finds that his hunger has vanished. In fact, the rakshasa begs the devotee to bless him. At first, Nampaduvan refuses but upon seeing the rakshasa is sincere, he does so. Immediately, the rakshasa returns to his original form and thanks Nampaduvan for redeeming him – he was actually a brahmin who had been punished for performing a yagna erroneously. The story reminds me of the Punyakoti saga that is popular in Karnataka but Nampaduvan somehow does not move me nearly as much…not at all, actually. Punyakoti, however, does not leave a single eye dry in the room.

I left Thirukkurungudi unwillingly; I could have used another couple of hours at the temple but it was nearly dusk and we had to return to Tirunelveli still. By the way, Thirukkurungudi is the birthplace of the founder of the TVS Group, TV Sundaram, or Thirukkurungudi Vengaramaswamy Sundram Iyengar. Whether as part of their Corporate Social Responsibility – charity legally mandated by the Indian government (!) – or voluntary philanthropy, the TVS Group has been looking after the temple financially and much restoration work has been done. From what I could see, they had not yet committed any blunders – for example, some firms had decided to rejuvenate the old mosaics and frescoes on the temple walls with Asian Paints or Nerolac! To be fair, the Tamil Nadu state’s Hindu Religious & Charitable Endowments Department is only marginally this side of Genghis Khan in its own restoration and maintenance work.

Bala Gopalan Temple gopuram, CheranmahadeviWe stayed the night in Tirunelveli because driving back to Madurai after a full day would be too tiring. Besides, it would give us an excuse to visit Cheran Mahadevi Temple on our way back the next day. Barely 45 kms from the southern tip of India in Thirukkurungudi, I was tempted to make one lightening lunge to say hello to the Indian Ocean but there was absolutely no time. Our temple of interest was the Bhaktavatsala Perumal Temple. About a thousand years old, the Bhaktavatsala Perumal Temple resembles the Vaikunta Perumal Temple in Kanchipuram and was built by Rajendra Chola I. This is not surprising because the latter inspired temple architecture all over not just South India but even places as far off as Cambodia and Indonesia. I should point out, by the way, that from Cheran Mahadevi, we were barely 15 kms from Brahmadesam. We need more holidays, corporate India!

Sri Bhaktavatsala PerumalThe Bhaktavatsala Perumal Temple is small and simple compared to the temples we had been to so far on the trip. There are only two shrines within, one to Balakrishnan and the main one to Mr. Perumal himself. Even then, reliefs and sculptures are sparse in the temple; the main deity is standing and that too without his consort. Garuda is present outside the main shrine as is Bhoodevi and Vishwakshena. Other than these, the only other relief in the temple is that of a seated Narasimha with Shesha shading him. What little was there was quite beautiful but there was not much. Around the inner prakaram, the walls are blank. The wall of the shrine has no reliefs and if there were any reliefs on the wall of the circumambulatory passage, they have been “restored” and nothing is left of them. Given the general sparseness, I doubt there was much anyway.

Moat, CheranmahadeviSomething I noticed was that the walkway around the main shrine was raised and between the shrine and the walkway was what essentially served as a moat. At Vaikuntha Perumal Temple in Kanchipuram, this used to be filled with water to give devotees the feeling that Vishnu truly was floating on an ocean. I am fairly certain that this was the practice here too for the layouts are too similar for it to be anything else.

Garuda, CheranmahadeviUnfortunately, the priest at the temple was a bit cranky and in a rush to go somewhere. Otherwise, we have been told that it is possible to climb up on the vimana of the main shrine to get a better view of the surroundings as well as explore the second and perhaps even third level of the shrine. None of this was allowed us; in fact we were hurried even around the prakaram and almost shooed out of the temple! Another treasure we missed thanks to the priest’s bad temperament was an underground chamber. The entry to it was right there in the ardha mantapam but the priest would have probably gone apoplectic if we delayed him any longer than we did. I am sure there is nothing inside the chamber for obvious reasons but even then, it would have been pretty cool to crawl into one and perhaps come as close to what most of us will experience of Indiana Jones! Secret chambers are much maligned these days because of the kitschy ways in which they are portrayed in movies and novels. However, such chambers were the norm in temples, palaces, and forts back in the day for reasons of safety, secrecy, and escape. In keeping with that sentiment, perhaps it is only fitting that the chamber below Bhaktivatsala Temple is probably empty.

Narasimha shaded by Shesha, CheranmahadeviWe were done in barely an hour – we were made to – and we proceeded towards our respective transport hubs whence we would get onto buses, trains, or aeroplanes to get back home. Our exploration of Pandyan country was punishingly short and there is always more to be seen in terms of additional destinations as well as closer examination of what we already saw. The maximum benefit would, I accept, come only if we went back home, read up on what we saw, and returned with more notes than on our first trip. After Kanchipuram and Thanjavur, I did not think I could be surprised by Tamil Nadu anymore – Madurai and its environs proved me wrong. The whole state is just an ocean of architectural riches that constantly amaze. Even for someone like me who is dismissive of all the myths and legends, there is enough empirical material in terms of art, architecture, engineering, and history that a lifetime of visits will also not be enough.

Thankfully, Tamil Nadu has decent roads even if they are a bit narrow. Not knowing the language will certainly be a handicap but most visitors will find it more convenient to hire a taxi to go to places like Thirumayam or Thirukkurungudi and limiting the use of buses to travel between major towns and cities like Madurai and Tirunelveli. Good food and accommodations are both easily available and should not be of concern to tourists. Weather-wise, I cannot stress enough that there is no good time to visit Tamil Nadu – as I have said before, the place knows only three seasons, hot, hotter, and hottest. Nonetheless, December and January are perhaps the least taxing months to visit. For men, if you are brave enough, I would urge you to consider a mundu – this is how you wear one (demonstrated with the aid of the 2nd movement of Beethoven’s 9th symphony in the background 😀 ). The monsoons have their own charm but rain can hamper travel plans and may not be worth it for those coming from outside the country. No, I am not including India north of the Vindhyas as outside the country 🙂

An important point to keep in mind about dress: please remember that many of the temples on this circuit are functioning. This means that visitors have to dress modestly and removing footwear before entering the temples goes without saying. Some temples do not allow foreigners, I am told – in fact, I have seen the signs. I am not sure what to say about this for even I get grief about “looking Indian or Hindu” sometimes. I have been able to persuade my way in always, and I have also been to some temples that state that foreigners are not allowed with non-Indian friends. I suppose this issue is left to the discretion of the authority on the ground at the moment. Yet fear not – I saw plenty of Europeans at Meenakshi Amman Kovil who were allowed into the first prakaram but were probably not allowed into the ardha mantapa. Most of what there is to see is in these areas only and the garbhagudi is of interest mostly to devotees only anyway.

JasmineThis may seem odd but the thing I missed most on the trip, I think, was the smell of good old mallige. Madurai is famous for it and the flower is mentioned all over Tamil literature. In an amusing poem in the Madurai Kanchi anthology, the “sweet” language of the Pandyans is compared to jasmine garlands overflowing with nectar 😀 Anyway, I was looking forward to the description of Madurai given by the Paanars in the Silappathikaaram: when you approach Madurai, they say, you will know you are close when you smell the mixed fragrances of mallige and srigandha wafting on the cool breeze. Now the floriculturally inclined will tell you there is a difference between the Madurai and Udupi varieties but they are both of the same Jasminum sambac species. On the other hand, Madurai’s jasmine recently got a GI (Geographical Indication) tag that marks it as special and different from jasmine grown elsewhere in the region. Mysore mallige and Hadagali mallige are clearly different, but is the Madurai strain so different from Udupi variety?

Another thing that struck me, though not just about the temples of Pandyan country, is the way temples were hubs of community life. This is not a particularly novel insight but when juxtaposed with how many institutions today fail to develop communities around them (and during an argument about urban planning in the middle of Nellaiappar Kovil), Émile Durkheim’s dichotomy between the sacred and the profane comes to mind. Meenakshi Amman Kovil, for example, stood at the centre of Madurai and was a reference point in urban planning but it was also a reference point in community life. I doubt a jamat-khana can have that sort of resonance with its members. And it is here that Nehru’s India starts to unravel – a set of laws, however rational, cannot serve a people if so abstract from their daily lives that they have no meaning or even value. The ties within and between India’s countless communities are messy, frustrating, confusing, and sometimes, you just want to wipe the slate clean. Yet they endure…with meaning and tangibility. I have never been to these temples but when I went there, I felt like I was at home. Don’t ask me why.

It is summer now, and this is probably going to be the last of my travelogues for this northward equinox year. So when am I going “home” again? There is still a lot to see – Tamil Nadu must have over a thousand temples and at least 50 of them must be of some significance – but they will have to wait for the monsoons at the very least. Besides, there is Karnataka too 🙂 But for now, our Madurai excursion was an excellent capstone to a year of great tourism…despite the odds!


This post appeared on Swarajya on March 08, 2015.

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Mokshapuri Kanchi

09 Mon Feb 2015

Posted by Jaideep A. Prabhu in India, Society, South Asia, Travelogue

≈ Comments Off on Mokshapuri Kanchi

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Adivaraha, Airavateshwara, Archaeological Survey of India, ASI, azvarkal, Chennai, Chola, Dakshina Murthy, Dennis Hudson, Divya Desam, Divya Prabhanda, Ekambareshwara, Gajasura Samhara, Kailashanatha, Kalidasa, Kamakshi Amman Kovil, Kanchipuram, Madras, Mahabalipuram, Mahishasuramardini, Matangeshwara, Mrityunjayeshwara, Mukteshwara, Nandivarman II, Narasimhavarman I, pancha bootha, Pancharatha, Pandya, Rajasimha, Ravana Anugraha, Shore Temple, Somaskanda, sthala vruksham, tandava, The Body of God: An Emperor's Palace for Krishna in Eighth Century Kanchipuram, Thiru Parameswara Vinnagaram, tourism, travelogue, Vaigunda Perumal, Varadharaja, Varaha

I have always neglected visiting Mamallapuram and Kanchipuram even though I have been to Madras countless times. I suppose one takes things in one’s own backyard for granted, sometimes until it is too late. “Next weekend, next vacation…what’s the rush? It is here wonly, no?” Last weekend, I finally resolved this lacuna and am glad that I did. Both Mamallapuram and Kanchipuram are near Madras and there are plenty of good accommodations available at both the tourist towns. However, I preferred to operate out of Madras for personal as well as logistical reasons.

MadrasEveryone like to make fun of Madras because…well, it is Madras 🙂 The North mocks it because they do not know better and the South mocks it because it is jealous; I mock it out of frustration for having so much quality literature inaccessible to me via that undecipherable language of theirs. The fact is, however, and I would deny ever writing this, that it is not a bad place – it is on the coast, it is well connected, it has decent public transport, it is not criminally expensive, and it pulls off an interesting balance between traditional and hipster. That said, I was greeted by the stench of urine the moment I stepped off the bus at Koyambedu that warm Madras dawn!

MahabalipuramMy first stop was Mahabalipuram, as Mamallapuram is also called. The place is named after the famous Pallava king Narasimhavarman I, who defeated his arch-rival, the Chalukya king Pulakeshi II in 642. Mahabalipuram was a bustling seaport even two thousand years ago and served as the second capital of the Pallavas. Today, it is a small town 60 kms south of Madras and its temples and cave sculptures have been on the UNESCO World Heritage list since 1984. Connectivity to Mahabalipuram from Madras is not bad – several city buses as well as state transport buses ply the route, some of which are even air conditioned. We, however, chose to go by car as the buses take longer than we were willing to dedicate to the trip.

Naga, Nagini on Mahabalipuram bas reliefDespite being on the UNESCO World Heritage list, many people are dismissive about Mahabalipuram and its historical sites. This is unfortunate, for there is actually much of value to see. Admittedly, the town stands in the shadow of Kanchipuram but that is not a fair yardstick by which to judge Mahabalipuram or any other place. Naturally, we alighted at the famous bas-relief panel depicting the elephants going to drink water. However, the descent of Ganga and Arjuna’s penance to Lord Shiva for the Pasupata at Indrakeel Mountain is perhaps the key takeaway from this monument. The interpretation of this panel, as it turns out, is quite contentious – some think that the figure doing penance is Bhagiratha while others think it depicts Naga worship. What gives it away, in my mind, is the relief of a cat imitating the worship of the man, surrounded by rats. This is also a tale from the Mahabharata when Duryodhana mocks Arjuna’s worship as false and hypocritical. Several other sculptures on the panel illustrating little-known events in the great Indian epic also indicate that the subject is indeed Arjuna and not anyone else. Particularly interesting is the way the river Ganga has been shown on the panel – one would imagine that during the rainy season, water would follow the same tracks on the panel as that of the Ganga and collect at the bottom. This makes the panel feel dynamic rather than simply another rock sculpture.

VarahaRight by the panel is the Varaha cave. As in so many royal houses of South India, the lion is an important motif and can be seen incorporated into the base of the pillars by the entrance. The cave contains four panels – Bhuvaraha, Trivikrama, Durga, and Gajalakshmi. What makes this cave temple most interesting is that the Gajalakshmi relief shows the goddess being bathed by two elephants while four maidens stand by with flowers. Lakshmi’s hair is in jata bandha while her hands are in kataka mudra and both her feet are planted firmly on the ground instead of her usual padmasana or with only one foot on the ground. Compared to the fine work at Belur, Khajuraho, or Rani ki Vav, the sculptures here appear clumsy and it must be remembered that the stone used in these other sites is softer and significantly more amenable to sculpting. As a result, the Pallavas abandoned the idea of carving cave temples and went for standalone monolithic rock temples instead at Mahabalipuram.

Gajalakshmi, MahabalipuramThis cave also has, allegedly, carvings of the Pallava kings. If true, this is extremely rare indeed – nowhere that I have visited in Tamil Nadu do monarchs trumpet the glories of their dynasty on temple walls. These carvings can be found on either side of the Gajalakshmi panel and the inscriptions above indicate that the Pallava kings in question are Simhavishnu and Mahendra. These monarchs may have been father and son who started and finished the temple but where they fit exactly in the Pallava genealogy is beyond me.

MahishasuramardiniWithout doubt, the finest of the cave temples at Mamallapuram must be the Mahishasuramardini cave. The shrine in the cave is for Shiva, which is discernible, despite the missing lingam, from the Somaskanda on the back wall of the garbhagudi. On the left wall is a magnificent and large Vishnu reclining in the anantashayana pose. Half asleep, Vishnu is unaware that two demons, Madhu and Kaitabha, are about to attack him. The relief shows Adishesha hissing at the demons and scaring them away as Vishnu taps the snake to calm him down. Interestingly, Vishnu’s equipment – gada, shanka, chakra, and khadga – are all personified. This is also seen in the central Shiva shrine – one of the dwarapalaks has horns protruding from his conical helmet at an awkward angle but this depiction is meant to indicate Shiva’s trishul. However, by far the most magnificent of reliefs in the cave – and in my opinion, the entire Mahabalipuram – is the Mahishsuramardini on the right wall. Unlike the usual depictions of Durga stomping on the figure of a half-bull-half-man while thrusting a trishul into it, this relief shows Durga in the middle of a battle with the demon.

AnanthashayanaIt was here that I found my episode for this travelogue’s ode to the Indian tourist: we spotted one climb onto the figure of the reclining Vishnu and replicate his posture for a photograph. The tackiness aside, the tourist paid no heed to either the sacrilege of stepping and climbing onto a religious symbol or the historical value of the sculpture! Another blood boiling incident occurred at the Varaha cave: an Italian tourist was standing timidly by a sculpture for his companion to take a photograph. His local guide urged him to get closer to the statue and finally physically moved him to appear as if he was swinging on Varaha’s left arm as Bhudevi was held with the right. In case someone has the sense and respect not to endanger a historical artifact, natives are always at hand to encourage such vandalism!

Several of the monuments at Mahabalipuram have been damaged due to neglect and prolonged exposure to the elements. In addition, many of the structures were left incomplete which may give the impression of shoddy workmanship, erosion, or damage to the inattentive eye. However, even these incomplete structures are worth a quick dekho for the simple reason that they reveal how the finished caves were worked on.

There are a few stalls near the historical compound where one can avail of tender coconut water, sugarcane juice, ice cream, and other such drinks and snacks. However, if you want a decent restaurant, you will have to leave the area. There are a couple of decent places around and auto rickshaws should not be difficult to find either. Depending on how much time you have allocated to Mahabalipuram, you may choose to rehydrate and press on. We gave the place a day and I think we should have been more judicious with our time or scheduled a visit the next day as well. We skipped several points of interest such as the Trimurti cave, the Kotikal, Krishna, Koneri mantapas, and the new excavations such as the Mukunda Nayanar Temple. This was partly because of time but more because of mental fatigue – it is difficult to digest so much new and detailed information in a day on a topic entirely alien to you. India is new to me, and there is so much I learn on each of my trips.

After lunch, we went to the Olakkanneshwara temple. It is situated on a hill but there are steps up to it. From there, I caught my first glimpse of the Bay of Bengal…for that trip. As a lover of maritime activity, I measure time by the last time I had salt spray in my face. Given its height and unobstructed view of the sea, the temple could have easily served as a lighthouse back in the day.

Pancha ratha elephantAnother famous set of monoliths at Mamallapuram is the Panch Pandav Ratha. This has nothing to do with the Pandavas, obviously, but have been associated with them since they are five in number. The rathas have been carved from top to bottom as is evident from the elaborate gopuram but incomplete bases. The Draupadi ratha looks like a small hut and is the least ornate, with a smooth and sloped, curved roof; the Dharmaraja ratha is perhaps the most impressive, with its tritala vimana; the Bhima ratha is rectangular, indicating a potential plan to depict a reclining Vishnu inside the shrine. Around the rathas are also two elephants. The rathas are in different stages of completion – while some are almost complete, others appear to only have the outer work done. Together, the five rathas appear to be part of a framework of a larger temple. They stand alone, perhaps inspired by Buddhist architecture, but slope from the shortest to tallest ratha.

Shore TempleThere is no leaving Mahabalipuram without visiting the Shore Temple, which is actually two shrines to Shiva – Kshatryasimheshwaram and Rajasimheshwaram. Built by the Pallava king Rajasimha, they are the newest of the Mahabalipuram stone works at about 1,300 years old. The shrines are surrounded by a wall that is topped with Nandis. Despite the hard rock, the temple appears severely eroded. There is an old myth about the first foreigners who sailed to Mamallapuram seeing seven temples on the shore. The Seven Pagodas, as they were thought to be, were assumed to signify the presence of Chinese civilisation in the area. Of course, a vimaana looks nothing like an East Asian slightly upturned pent roof but try telling that to those early visitors!

On December 26, 2004, a massive tsunami hit the Coromandel coast. Mahabalipuram was also affected. The horrific loss of life in the region and the great damage to property, however, had a silver lining: several structures off the coast of Mahabalipuram were revealed as the force of the tsunami waters washed away the detritus that had gathered over them. Sonar exploration since has revealed at least a couple of temples and caves less than 500 metres from the shore. One exciting discovery was of a 2,000-year-old shrine belonging to the Sangam period. These discoveries have also impelled excavations on land in the vicinity of Mahabalipuram with several interesting results already.

On Sunday, we went to Kanchi. “The best among cities” is how the great poet Kalidasa described Kanchipuram and it is difficult to disagree with him. Wrote the mahakavi of the city, pushpeshu jati, purusheshu Vishnu, narishu Rambha, nagarishu Kanchi – like the parijat among flowers, Vishnu among men, and Rambha among women is Kanchi among cities. A medium-sized town today on the banks of the Vegavathi river some 70 kms west-southwest of Madras, Kachipedu, as it was once called, still attracts pilgrims, tourists, and scholars in droves. Like Mahabalipuram, Kanchipuram is a very old town with the first mention of its name during the Maurya period some 2,300 years ago. The town was part of a busy network of cultural and economic activity with Cambodia, Sumatra, Java, Champa, Thailand, and China; its wealth attracted scholars, priests of various traditions, and merchants from the entire Southeast Asian region.

There are dozens of temples in town and even the absolute must-see ones will easily take a serious tourist a couple of days. We had but one day; this does not mean that we skipped any of the important temples but just that we spent less time in all of them. There was just too much to consider in each temple that multiple trips were a foregone conclusion; for those living further away – foreigners or northerners, I would recommend at least three days for a leisurely visit to the key destinations of Kanchipuram. And I cannot stress this enough – do your homework before coming!

Vaikunta Perumal Temple, NarasimhaOur first stop was the Vaikunta Perumal Temple, one of the 108 divya desams mentioned in the Divya Prabhanda by the azvarkal, revered Tamil poet-saints of the 6th to 10th centuries. These saints are considered to have been very influential in several aspects of Tamil culture, from language to religion. Believed to have been built by Nandivarman II in the early 8th century, Vaikunta Perumal Temple has served as an inspiration to temples all over the state. According to the late Dennis Hudson, the elite of Kanchi were highly literate and the Vaikunta Perumal Temple was meant not to teach my means of depiction but to remind devotees of what they already knew, to transform the consciousness and to awaken them. The temple has also had later additions from Chola and Vijayanagara kings as is evident from the several inscriptions around the building.

I was surprised to find that Vaikunta Perumal Temple shares a water tank with the Nawab Sathathullah Khan Mosque next door. This is because Kanchipuram, like so many Indian temple towns, also fell to Islamic forces and was looted and desecrated. The first Muslim ruler of the town was the Bahamani sultan Muhammad II who captured the town in 1481 and the last to rule were the nawabs of Arcot. The mosque contains within it a shivalingam as it stands atop a Hindu temple.

Vaikunta Perumal, Pallava historyThe temple has three shrines to Vishnu; in the first, on the ground floor, he is seated; on the second floor, open only on ekadashi, he is reclining; and on the third floor, which devotees have no access to, he is standing. There are, of course, the usual depictions of the dashavatara and various other myths but there are also a few panels some scholars believe depict the history of the Pallava dynasty. If this is true, it is revolutionary indeed and Vaikunta Perumal Temple will join a handful of temples where there is any acknowledgement of the kings who built them. There are also plenty of inscriptions for those who can read the Pallava grantha.

Vaikunta Perumal, inscriptionsLike any state funding from any period or region in the world, there was a lot of politics and symbolism involved in the construction of the Vaikuntha Perumal Temple. For example, it has been suggested that this house of Vishnu was built in competition with the older Kailasanatha Temple built by Nandivarman II’s ancestor, Rajasimha. Not just cosmology and theology but also lineage played an important part in the saga – that of pure and impure (offspring with non-Pallava women) Pallava blood. The cross-pollination between one line of Pallavas in Cambodia and the main one in Kanchipuram has raised several questions about the influence of the Indian temples of the Coromandel coast on Angkor Wat. For example, both have three levels of the garbhagudi and both have exclusively Bhagavata iconography on the gopuram. If anyone is interested in reading more on this, Hudson’s The Body of God: An Emperor’s Palace for Krishna in Eighth Century Kanchipuram is a lovely read.

KailasanathaAfter spending more time than we had planned to at Thiru Parameswara Vinnagaram, we moved on to Kailasanatha Temple. Built in the late 7th century, it is the oldest temple in Kanchipuram. Construction of the temple was interrupted when the Chalukyas captured Kanchipuram but continued as soon as it was retaken; unlike other invading armies, the Chalukyas had not destroyed the construction site. Unlike most of the temples at Mahabalipuram, Kailasanatha is one of the oldest stone temples not carved out of rock that is still standing in India.

Kailasanatha, SomaskandaThe Pallavas clearly had a thing for Somaskanda, for there are dozens of depictions of him all over the temple. Occasionally, you might spot him sitting on his peacock but by and large, he his happily settled on his mother’s lap. Another form of Shiva the Pallavas seem to have loved is Dakshinamurthy, of whom there are also several depictions. The temple has 58 shrines in it and Nandi sits on a pedestal far from the entrance across a lawn. However, it is clear that the Cholas and Vijayanagara kings added to this temple as well; the original temple consisted only of the sanctum sanctorum and a detached sabha mantapa. Now, there are umpteen shrines surrounding the temple. Some of these shrines even have some of the original paint intact. This gives an idea of what the original temple must have been like – a white main temple surrounded by colourful shrines.

Kailasanatha insideThe main shrine has a 16-sided black granite shivalingam, with the walls carrying depictions of Umamaheshwara and Shiva performing the tandava. One interesting statue I noticed was of Shiva dancing the ananda tandava but instead of standing on one leg bent at the knee, he seemed to be in some sort of quasi-virabadhrasana! Another posture Shiva can be found in is the urdhva tandava; clearly, the Pallavas had a diverse compendium of Shiva postures for their artwork.

Kailasanatha, restorationUsually in my travels, I have little more than scorn for the work of the Archaeological Survey of India. Their maintenance has been found wanting at several places and their restoration work a replay of an Islamic invasion! Yet I must admit that at Kailasanatha temple, they have done some marvelous work in reversing the damage done to the temple by invaders and by nature. Something else about the ASI I have noted is that every time I have met one of their officials on site, they have been most knowledgeable and helpful. At Kanchipuram, we met one such official who, pleased with our enthusiasm, offered to take us around the city on a tour of temples that are generally closed to the public.

Varadharaja Perumal, Vijayanagara mantapaNext, we swung by Varadharaja Perumal Temple. It was a bit late in the morning but we hoped we could make it before the temple closed for lunch. No such luck. However, we could persuade one of the administrative officials to allow us into a mantapa built by the Vijayanagara kings. The hall supposedly has a hundred pillars and is a masterpiece of Vijayanagara sculpture. The primary subjects of the carvings on the pillars are episodes from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. There is a large stage upon a pedestal, over which is erected the Lord’s jhula on festive occasions. It was only then that I noticed the sartorial choice of the Vijayanagara kings: heavily influenced by the Portuguese and Muslims. Phillip Wagoner argues that the similarities did not stop just there. Even the title many Vijayanagara kings used – Hindurayasuratrana – appears to be a Hindu equivalent of the Muslim Sultan and was probably what Vijayanagara’s Muslim neighbours called its kings. Of course, to understand the cleavage between Islamic religion and Islamicate culture we must keep in mind Marshal Hodgson’s differentiation of the two in his magisterial The Venture of Islam. It is equally important to understand that despite these Islamic influences, Vijayanagara remained a Hindu kingdom. One reason is that Islamic influence did not seep into the state’s image of itself. Vijayanagara made it a point to revive classical Hinduism and its iconography clearly reveals this. Whatever accoutrements the nobility and rich merchants may have picked up from their northern neighbours was merely a passing fad and did not, as far as I can tell, create a hybrid culture as was the case north of the Vindhyas.

This mantapa stands in stark contrast to the Maratha contribution to Hindu architecture. While the former is ornate and exquisite, the latter stands simple and bland. I am not trying to take away from the work of Maratha rulers like Ahilya Holkar who rebuilt countless Hindu temples all over India but the renovations and repairs do seem like the work a soldier engineer might do rather than a master craftsman patronised by the king. The additions of the Chola and Vijayanagara monarchs vied with each other and tried to surpass the original work but Maratha additions were usually stolid.

We broke for lunch and headed over to Saravana Bhavan much against my wishes. Actually, I was quite surprised and pleased with the restaurant. Imagine my surprise when I realised that I had probably never eaten at a real Saravana Bhavan in my life! Apparently there are many copycat outlets that even imitate the logo of the Tamil restaurant chain and they are not of the same calibre. My experience at the fake restaurants has been that it was dirty, crowded, hot, and specialised in serving mushy rice with dishwater – rasam. The actual place is not a bad option for food while touring.

Varadharaja Perumal, RajagopuramSince we had missed darshan earlier, we returned to Varadharaja Perumal Temple. It is an enormous place, covering some 23 acres and possessing 32 shrines and scores of pillared halls. At the entrance, you are greeted with a 130-foot tall rajagopuram. This sort of monumental architecture is seen most commonly in the Chola era and is a dead giveaway of the temple’s origins – it was built in 1053 by Rajendra Chola II but expanded greatly by Kulothunga Chola I and Vikrama Chola a couple of decades later. Like Vaikuntha Perumal, it is also one of the 108 divya desams. In 1688, the deity was moved out of the temple in fear of an impending Muslim invasion but was returned after the threat had subsided. Such tales are quite common in the towns and villages of India but this was perhaps the largest temple in the country to experience such an event. I was informed that, interestingly, Robert Clive of the British East India Company presented the deity at Varadharaja Perumal with a valuable necklace. It is worn only on special occasions and is now known as Clive Maharkandi.

One must be alert as to where one is heading at this temple. With so many shrines, it is easy to stand in line at a wrong one as did happen to us! Anyway, we saw the utsava murthi before moving upstairs to the main shrine. There is something very pleasing about a temple with a beautiful idol, I tell you, and Varadharaja Perumal Temple has one of the most beautiful idols I have seen in a garbhagriha. Next we headed to the Lakshmi shrine but got confused and went to a shrine of two lizards first. One is gold and the other is silver and it is said that touching them will wash away your sins. I must say it is quite amusing to see indulgences in Hinduism…the Pope would be proud 🙂

Matangeshwara, dilapadatedWe linked up with our new ASI friend next and he took us to the Matangeshwara, Mukteshwara, Mrityunjayeshwara, and Airavateshwara temples. Some of these, such as the Mukteshwara Temple, is closed to the public while others were closed when we were there. The Matangeshwara Temple was badly eroded. I found this odd, given the hard rock that had been used. However, I also noticed that some temples were made of soapstone yet stood on a granite base. It appeared as if puja was done at the temple but I doubt more than a hundred people visited that temple each day. The inner walls of the temple had a Nataraja and a Gajasurasamhara that were yet in fairly decent shape though the outer walls might as well have been sandblasted. The Ravana Anugraha and the Descent of Ganga are also depicted but are not in good shape.

MukteshwaraThe Mukteshwara Temple held a real surprise. It is a small and unassuming standalone temple, resembling a Buddhist chaitya more than the other magnificent shrines in Kanchipuram. Like Matangeshwara, this temple too had weathered badly. Our ASI guide opened the garbhagriha for us as well and there stood a nice shivalingam. Behind it was the typical Somaskanda portrait but it was hard to make out any details. It did not look damaged and so I stepped into the garbagudi and took a photograph, of course, taking care to avoid the deity. The result astounded us: the flash revealed what the naked eye could not see, that there were remnants of the original paint still on the Somaskanda! As per Tamil tradition, the goddess – Parvati in this case, was painted green. What made it harder for us to discern the colours was that during the Raj, the British had whitewashed the whole temple in an attempt to restore the temple. That may have been the best technology of the times but it was no good for the sculptures.

Mukteshwara, SomaskandaThe original colours are important because some entities have taken it upon themselves to revive old temples as part of their philanthropy or goodness tax, also known as corporate social responsibility. Re-colouring the temple murals and sculptures has, so far, been a disaster of epic proportions; the newer paints are gaudy and a sacrilege at best. We asked the ASI official about such ham-handedness and he informed us that such things are not allowed. We did have to chuckle and I pulled out my collection of photographs detailing ASI’s crimes against history: gratuitous use of cement, unsightly support structures, and atrocious reconstruction to name a few. Our guide also seemed shocked; he informed us that cement is not allowed in superficial restoration work and neither are modern paints. At Kailasanatha, the ASI has taken the pains to create the original paint and construction material for their conservation work. It was indeed odd to see the widely varying practices of the ASI and I am not sure why that is so.

It was the next two temples that introduced a new thought in my mind. The Mrityunjayeshwara and Airavateshwara temples are in such a bad state of repair that it makes little sense for the ASI to maintain them. The latter is actually run by a private concern as the ASI lost control over it in some land dispute in the courts. Ideally, these structures ought to be carted off to a museum and reassembled there rather than be left intact to absorb gardening and security funds. I had really never thought of Indian historical artifacts in such a manner but two things factor into my thinking – the extremely dilapidated state of some structures and their ubiquitous presence. It is simply impossible to retain every temple, tower, shrine, park, palace, and fort and a practical solution is to maintain the important ones while removing others to museums or dismantling them.

My last stop was the Ekambareshwara Temple – there is no way one can miss this temple on a visit to Kanchipuram. It is the largest temple in town, even larger than the Varadharaja Perumal Temple if you can believe it! Ekambareshwar is one of the pancha bootha sthalam – the five Shiva temples wherein the lingam is made of one of the five elements, air, earth, fire, sky, and water. Here, the lingam is made of earth. Four of these five temples are in Tamil Nadu and one is in Srikalahasti in what is today Andhra Pradesh. Spread over 25 acres, there are dozens of shrines in the temple complex, as well as kalyanis and mantapas. However, not one of the shrines is for Parvati – instead, Shiva’s consort resides in the Kamakshi Amman Kovil next door. It was also quite amusing to see a Divya Desam shrine to Vishnu inside a Shiva temple, that too on the right so that there is no way of avoiding a parikrama around Shiva! Sneaky 🙂

Unfortunately, we could not visit the thousand-pillared Aayiram Kaal Mandapam that has the 1,008 shivalingams because it was getting close to dusk by this time and we had to drive back to Madras on a very accident-prone stretch of highway. We also did not see the sthala vruksham, a mango tree alleged to be 3,500 years old. No one knows when a shrine first appeared on the spot but state funds went into giving it the present form since the early 7th century. A tree factoid relevant to this is that the oldest tree in India is claimed to be a 5,000-year-old banyan tree in Jyotisar, Haryana. Locals believe that Krishna delivered the Bhagavad Gita to Arjuna under this tree.

Kailasanatha, Dakshina murthy Kailasanatha 1 Kailasanatha, Shiva doing tandav

At Ekambareshwara as well as at Varadharaja Perumal, I felt like I had entered a small township. One reads of the several functions temples used to have back in the day and these temples make it very easy to imagine that world when temples were centres of education, scholarship, horology, counseling, festivals, trade, philanthropy, gossip, and of course, worship. Some might not consider me a particularly religious person but it is in these “township temples,” centuries old and still living, that fills me with an intense sense of contentment. It is a pleasure to see something of beauty and the shacks that pass for temples nowadays are little more than congregation points for transactional bhakti. Temples like some of the ones in Kanchipuram or Srirangam or Thanjavur deliver a dose of spirituality, history, and culture all in one.

If I have persuaded you through my experiences to visit Kanchipuram and its environs, do keep in mind that a proper tour of Kanchipuram and Mahabalipuram would take three intense days of sightseeing. I did not plan my trip thus because I am presently close enough to go next weekend if I so desired. There is, of course, the intellectual fatigue that sets in for newbies like me – if South India is new to you, I strongly recommend doing your homework thoroughly and breaking up the sightseeing into two or three trips at least.

Let us be very clear – Madras has three seasons, hot, hotter, and hottest. Even in early February, the sun was sharp and the days were warm. The temperature gave a little in the evening but it was still short of cool. Beware walking on the stone floors of the temples for the ground beneath your feet can get quite hot! Still, the sane tourist season for Madras would be from November to February. There is only so much pleasant weather one can expect in the tropics.

I came away from this trip with a better impression of Madras – I had not thought that possible! – and several questions about the influence of the Pandya and Chola polities on southeast Asia. It also underscored the tourist bonanza Tamil Nadu is sitting on, exhibiting nothing but firm, masterly inactivity. There are tourists from home and abroad even now, no doubt, but it is nowhere near its peak potential. Despite being World Heritage sites, there is little promotion of Kanchipuram or Mahabalipuram in India or abroad the way Turkey or Malaysia does. As many scholars of the region have conceded, this is where one finds the true history of India. The North was repeatedly invaded, conquered, and influenced by foreign cultures but the South has retained the old – it has evolved, definitely, but with much less influence from non-Indic sources.

Being so close to Madras, the infrastructure – hotels, food, guides, transport – was decent. Unlike many places in India, visiting Kanchipuram is not an ordeal. The city is considered to be a mokshapuri; I don’t know about moksha, but I certainly got ananda upon going there! And like the best of trips, there is something for the eyes, something for the mind, and something for next time 🙂


This post appeared on Swarajya on February 22, 2015.

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A Gujarati Soujourn

24 Sat Jan 2015

Posted by Jaideep A. Prabhu in India, Society, South Asia, Travelogue

≈ Comments Off on A Gujarati Soujourn

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Adalaj, agnikula, agnikunda legend, agnivanshi, Archaeological Survey of India, Arisimha, ASI, Bet Dwaraka, Bhavishya Purana, Bhimdev I, Bilhana, Chalukya, Champaner, Chand Bardai, chandravanshi, Chauhan, Dholavira, Dwaraka, Dwarakadhish Temple, Gujarat, Hutheesing Jain Temple, India, Jama Masjid, Keshavraiji Temple, Kirti Kaumudi, Lothal, Mahmud Begada, Mehsana, Merutunga, Modhera, Mohandas Gandhi, Pampa, Paramara, Patan, Prabhanda Chintamani, Pratihara, Prithviraj Raso, Rajput, Rana Veer Singh, Rani ki Vav, Rani Roopba, saat kaman, Sabarmati, Sardar, Solanki, Someshwara, Somnath, Sukrita Sankirtana, Surya Mandir, suryavanshi, travelogue, Udayamati, UNESCO, Uttarardh Mahotsav, Vallabhbhai Patel, Vikramankdevacharita, Vikramarjuna Vijaya, World Heritage

Gujarat has attracted a lot of attention of late. The outbreak of plague in Surat in 1994, the earthquake in 2001, the riots following the massacre of 58 Hindu pilgrims at Godhra in 2002, the state’s remarkable development story, and the electoral triumph of India’s new prime minister from Vadnagar have all fixed Gujarat firmly in the Indian and international imagination. An invitation from Amitabh Bachchan in his sonorous voice to visit the state clinches the deal and it is impossible to resist a trip to Gujarat.

Gujarat tourismFor whatever reason, Gujarat has not advertised itself much as a tourist destination until recently. Even now, the promotion of tourism appears halfhearted compared to the glitzy campaigns of Thailand, Turkey, Malaysia, or even Singapore. Awareness of Gujarat’s sights, barring Gir Forest or pilgrimage spots, is very low. I would have suggested that the tourist infrastructure is almost non-existent and that also betrays the state’s apathy towards tourism but I realise this is true for most parts of India and not limited to Gujarat.

My trip started from Amdavad. I reached Amdavad by train in the morning and was ready to hit the road by noon. I am not particularly enamoured by the Mohandas Gandhi story and did not want Sabarmati Ashram on my itinerary. Thankfully, my friend did not insist on making me more closely acquainted with one of Gujarat’s great sons either. Apparently the state has only one great son in the modern era – Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel – and all others are liked only in varying degrees.

Rani ki VavOur first stop was Patan, approximately 130 kms north of Amdavad. This was because I had arrived at a fairly fortuitous time, just after the Vibrant Gujarat Summit and the Pravasi Bharatiya Divas but during the annual Uttarardh Mahotsav. My initial thoughts had been to spend the day in and around Amdavad rather than squeeze a visit to a nearby site of interest. That changed even before I arrived in Amdavad because it came to my notice that a classical dance show had been organised in Modhera in front of the Surya Mandir that night. The setting was going to be seductive and I like classical dance – no way was I going to miss it! As we say back home, kmean kar roiam chivut kmean ney – without dance, life has no meaning.

The road to Patan was not bad. After all, Gujarat is famous for the quality of its roads. In a country where potholes are the norm, the western Indian state really stood out as an exception. Our destination in Patan was Rani ki Vav, a 950-year-old stepwell built by Queen Udayamati in the memory of her deceased husband, Bhimdev I of the Solanki dynasty. Also known as Ranki Vav, the structure was added to UNESCO’s list of World Heritage sites in June 2014.

An apsara at Rani ki VavI had little expectations from this stepwell – after all, I had seen several such decorated holes in the ground during my travels in Karnataka. Yet Rani ki Vav stunned me with its size and beautiful sculptures. The well is some 65 metres long and well over seven storeys down. Furthermore, it was not decorated with just a few geometric designs but extensively with sculptures of Mahishasuramardini, Parvati, Bhairava, Ganesha, Surya, Kubera, and the several avataras of Vishnu. Interspersed are the ashtadikpalas, yoginis, nagakanyas, and apsaras. I would not be exaggerating if I said that these statues could easily be compared to those at Belur, Khajuraho, or Ellora. I was especially pleased to see vigilant guards chasing away the idiots who wanted to climb or lean on the sculptures; I wish they had the power to levy hefty fines as well.

A wall panel at Rani ki VavThis comparison makes me wonder about the market for craftsmen in India a thousand years ago. It is obvious that works of exquisite beauty in stone were not the monopoly of just one kingdom or one short, golden period. The talent was widespread, as was the demand. Furthermore, there exists a span of a good five of six centuries between Ellora and the Hoysalas. Throughout this period, there seemed to be enough work for craftsmen to sustain themselves and not let their art die. As a scholar primarily of Europe, I found it an interesting comparative snapshot of the composition of the economies of the kingdoms of the Indian subcontinent ten centuries ago.

I would like to go off on a short tangent at this point about the Solanki kings of Gujarat because I was quite surprised to hear some of the theories of their origins and others might be too. Several theories consider the Solankis to be the descendants of the southern Chalukya dynasty of what is today Karnataka. To begin with the mythological evidence first, one theory suggests that ‘Chalukya’ was the name of a warrior who was born from fire and his descendants became the Chalukyas. The idea of a fiery birth is prevalent across Hindu epics and puranas and very likely fired up the imagination of a few poets in search of new euolgies for their royal patrons too.

The notion of Agnikula Rajputs was probably popularised by Chand Bardai, the 12th century court poet of Rai Pithora, in his poem Prithviraj Raso. Rajput clans are broadly divided into three lineages – those claiming descent from the Sun, suryavanshi, those claiming the Moon as their ancestor, chandravanshi, and those born of fire, agnivanshi. This is drawn from the Bhavishya Purana, where it is stated that the agnikunda Rajputs – Chauhans, Chalukyas, Parmaras, and Pratiharas – were born at Mount Abu. As I said earlier, one of these warriors was called Chalukya.

Another theory, this one from Bilhana’s 11th century eulogy to Vikramaditya VI, the Vikramankdevacharita, is that Brahma took some sacred water of the Ganges into his palm, from which he created a fearsome warrior. Since the word for palm is “chuluk” in Sanskrit, the warrior and his descendants came to be known as the Chalukyas. A third theory, proposed by the 10th century poet Pampa in his Vikramarjuna Vijaya, suggests that the Chalukyas were the descendants of the great Pandava warrior, Arjuna.

Coming to the realm of history, several scholars such as Lt. Col. James Tod, Sir James Campbell, and Gaurishankar Ojha have speculated on the Kalyankataka – a town undisputedly under Chalukya suzerainty – origins of the Solankis. Their sources are inscriptions and chronicles of the period such as Merutunga’s Prabhanda Chintamani, Arisimha’s Sukrita Sankirtana, and Someshwara’s Kirti Kaumudi. Of course, the veracity of these chronicles must be taken with a pinch of salt, but they seem to broadly agree with each other.

No doubt, there are differences between the southern Chalukyas and the northern Solankis, but that is to be expected over a couple of centuries. In keeping with local customs, perhaps, the northern branch of the dynasty underwent changes in their kuladeva, their crest, their gotra, and their name underwent a linguistic as well as language shift. Language experts can tell you more about the shift from “ch” to “s” but away from home, the Chalukyas of Gujarat gradually became the Solankis of Gujarat. In a far less complicated manner, a modern example would be how the Scindias of Madhya Pradesh are the Shindes of Maharashtra.

Anyway. I had expected to spend at most half an hour at Rani ki Vav but ended up spending closer to two hours. What was supposed to be just another hole in the ground ate up much more time than I had expected. With sunset approaching, we headed to Modhera after the promise of song and dance.

Modhera Surya MandirThe Surya Mandir at Modhera had been lit up in different colours and a stage had been built in front of it, this side of the kalyani, of course. The programme consisted of three segments: it would be an hour of odissi, followed by an hour of bharatnatyam, and concluding with an hour of Gujarat’s own gharba. Sadly, I am no dance connoisseur but I doubt anything on a stage with such a magnificent backdrop could look bad! I was mesmerised by odissi and the bharatnatyam but left before the gharba started – somehow gharba gives off the vibe that it is a participatory activity and not a spectator event. Due to a little logistical snafu, we could not get a hotel room in Mehsana and had to drive back to Amdavad. However, thanks to the good road, we made it home in good time.

Odissi at Modhera Bharatnatyam at Modhera Narasimha avatar

Surya Mandir, ModheraThe next day, we hit the road early because we wanted to see Modhera during the day and then move on to Dholavira and make it there before the sun set. The Surya Mandir at Modhera was quite beautiful, though heavily eroded. In fact, I was surprised to see the level of erosion the sculptures on the temple walls had endured. Going only by the erosion, had I not known the age of the temple, I would have easily guessed it to be at least 500 years older than it actually was. I suspect part of it is the constant touching and climbing by tourists, not to mention the sacking by Allaudin Khilji, but some of it might also be that the Gujarat air carries a lot of dust – not unthinkable in a semi-arid state.

View from garbha griha, Surya MandirThe Modhera Surya Mandir was built by King Bhimdev in 1026, the same ruler in whose honour Rani ki Vav was posthumously built. It is built such that, on the summer solstice, the first rays of the sun fall on the deity, Surya. Our return to Amdavad the previous night had not been entirely foolish, thankfully: had it been an equinox, we would have missed an opportunity to witness this for ourselves. The temple has three segments: a pushkarini, a sabha mantap, and the garbha griha. The pushkarini is slightly larger than an Olympic-size swimming pool, and its steps contain tiny shrines to 108 deities though I did not count them! Also, I have not noticed such a prominent and stand-alone sabha mantap at any other temple that I recall. Even if such an arrangement exists, it does not seem common.

Roof of sabha mantap, Surya MandirThere was a small museum on site too. It is not really worth a visit unless you want to come away with horror stories of how the Archaeological Survey of India has just collected statues and fragments in there, or how the labels are atrociously vague. When we visited it, there were no guards or attendants there and even the lights were off. The museum, such as it was, stood only marginally above a lost-and-found goods warehouse.

Eroded idols at Surya Mandir, Modhera

Eroded Ganesha, Surya Mandir Eroded Anantashayana, Surya Mandir Eroded Suryadev, Surya Mandir

We set off for Dholavira well before noon. The distance between us and our destination was approximately 250 kms and pace all the stories about Gujarat’s great roads, I knew that in India, the only sensible thing would be to plan to cover the distance in eight hours. Just the previous month, I had been stuck on a stretch of highway that took four hours to traverse a hundred kilometres! We reached Dholavira in four hours, but it was not all smooth sailing.

GadkibetI must at this point register my strong distrust of Google Maps. The product is generally good, I will admit, but there have been times when I have also been terribly misled. This was one of them. We had driven north to Radhanpur from where got onto NH 15 as it would take us half way to Dholavira. Theoretically, we were supposed to turn off NH 15 onto Gujarat SH 52 just after Santalpur and towards Ranmalpura. From there, GJSH 52 would take us through a desert patch called Gadkibet and all the way to GJSH 51 near Balasar and on the last stretch to Dholavira. Except that when we left NH 15, we were quickly onto a dirt track to nowhere! We pushed on for a bit but there seemed to be no sign of civilisation. Finally, we came across a couple of people walking by and asked them for directions. For whatever reason, they seemed eager to tell us how to get to Dhoraji rather than Dholavira! I dare not contemplate the possibility that they had not heard of the ancient Harappan site.

A puncture in the middle of nowhereSoon, even the bushes failed and we were in the open desert with not a point of reference on the horizon to guide us. Google Maps still showed us to be on the alleged GJSH 52 but I am wondering if that whole road is some sort of NREGA scheme Google cooked up! Life never gets better without getting worse first – in the middle of this nowhere, our car got a flat tyre. I know, oy vey! Common sensical folks that we are, we had serviced the car before leaving on our journey and we had a spare tyre. After changing the wheel, we pressed on with only the sun and our tracks as navigational references. Oddly, I did not feel at all scared to be out of sight of everything; it felt like I had the planet to myself for a few minutes, and that really wasn’t so bad 🙂 Finally, we reached a road and I am not quite sure whether by luck or by our rudimentary navigation. To be fair, we knew we would eventually hit a road somewhere; we just hoped we would not have to deal with another puncture. We reached Dholavira only half an hour later than we had expected, remarkable given our adventures.

Road to DholaviraThere was no town around Dholavira, it was merely a marker on the map. There were two lodges and a shop in the vicinity of the Harappan ruins and that was it. I did not see anything else for a few kilometres. Normally, I review hotels I have stayed in on TripAdvisor to avoid clutter in the travelogue. However, there is an important lesson to be learned about lodging in the Gujarati wilderness – you really cannot call Dholavira anything else – that is best explained here. Both hotels were tolerable for backpackers, students, and budget travellers but there were no luxuries. Both places were somewhat clean though the paint was peeling off the walls at one place and the other place appeared too new for real wear and tear. However, one place had no bathroom infrastructure in terms of a health faucet, bidet, jet spray, or even toilet paper. The difference in price for these otherwise similar places was double for the one that had the facilities. The same was the case in Mehsana – in fact, the porter actually asked us what ‘toilet paper’ was when we asked about the inadequate bathroom! So the lesson here is: always carry a roll of toilet paper in Gujarat!

Dholavira townWe had about an hour of sunlight and I could not resist the call of a 5,000-year-old settlement. We rushed to the Harappan ruins to catch a first glimpse of what life was like five millennia ago. Of course, the Indus Valley Civilisation was not the first settlement in South Asia though it was the first clearly urban one: the subcontinent’s history is considerably older if one considers the Mehrgarh discoveries of advanced farming communities. Unfortunately, those sites, or whatever is left of them, are in Balochistan and not quite accessible. After an hour or so on site, we headed back to our hotel for not only was it getting dark but it was difficult to figure out the significance of all but the most obvious structures such as the huge water reservoirs.

Dwelling, Level 7; DholaviraWe arranged for a guide for Dholavira for the next day at our hotel. For all its primitiveness, the staff was very cooperative and friendly. There was little to do after that except have dinner and retire – there was no television and my phone was off network. It was not quite cold but we still started a small campfire for us to sit around and chat. It turned out to be a great decision – miles from nowhere, in the middle of a desolate salt marsh, the sky was clearer and more wondrous.

The main boulevard of DholaviraThe next morning, we set off early to maximise our time at the Harappan ruins. We would have a long drive to Somnath later and the sooner we got out of Dholavira, the better. Our guide had himself spent 13 years assisting archaeologists excavate Dholavira and was quite knowledgeable about the area. The entire archaeological site is about 800 metres in length and 600 metres across. It took us approximately three and a half hours to wander through the citadel, midtown, and lower town. Dholavira thrived for some 1,500 years and at its peak, housed some 15,000 people. Dholavira is one of the five largest Indus Valley cities discovered so far, the others being Mohenjodaro (Sindh), Harappa (Punjab, Pakistan), Kalibangan (Rajasthan), and Surkotada (Gujarat). The city has seven layers so far – meaning that it was inhabited and abandoned seven times. Unfortunately for archaeologists, later layers freely borrowed building material from earlier ones, and separating the different stages without contaminating them is painstaking work.

Water reservoir, DholaviraThe most immediate thing you notice about the ancient city are its massive water reservoirs and water filtration system, five out of an estimated sixteen of which have been excavated. In a place like Khadirbet, the reason for this is obvious. The only sources of water for the inhabitants of Dholavira would have been two storm water channels, the Manhar and the Mansar, that flanked the city. Additionally, they would have had to practice some serious rainwater harvesting. Given the shortage of water, it is surprising that the Dholavirans spent so much water in making the bricks for the high walls of the citadel. The only logical answer for such constructions is that they must have feared regular attack from their neighbours, wandering tribes, and bandits. For Dholavira to not just survive but flourish away from a perennial river or the sea, they must have been on some ancient trade crossroad; their fabulous wealth must have attracted unwanted attention.

Dholavira signpostAnother interesting discovery at Dholavira is the famous signboard found there. Of course, there is no piece of wood or placard surviving from 5,000 years ago but the imprint of the gypsum used to make the sign remains. This is, unfortunately for tourists, covered to protect it. The urban planning and sewage systems of Indus Valley settlements is well-known and Dholavira is no exception. There are baths, water reservoirs, drainage channels, wells, and even storage tanks to keep water cool in the citadel. In the dried up river beds of Manhar and Mansar, evidence has been found to suggest that the Dholavirans built dams to divert the monsoon water in the rivers into their reservoirs. If one notices carefully, the slope of Dholavira will be apparent; this aided the flow of water the higher tanks to the lower cisterns to the extent that water was not in particularly short supply throughout the year.

Neglected DholaviraIt was just wonderful to let the antiquity of the place to engulf you. Yet it was disappointing to see the neglect of such an important historical place. For instance, Dholavira was discovered around 1967 by Jagat Pati Joshi but the ASI began excavating it only around 1990. Presently, all excavation in the area has stopped. Our guide told us that some portions of the site had been reburied by archaeologists for fear of damaging the artifacts through neglect. There has even been encroachment upon the site from nearby farms and it would be an uphill battle to reclaim those lands for archaeological excavations if they ever started again. Wild grass grows all over the site and no road has been created for tourists to walk around. There are hardly half a dozen placards around the site and even they are completely unhelpful in terms of information or directions. Had it not been for our guide, I am not sure how much we could have gleaned from piles of stone and brick lying around.

Dholavira sealWe had spent some three and a half hours on site and I was thoroughly shocked to note that we did not bump into a single tourist or official the entire time! The ruins of this city from near the beginnings of civilisation in India was simply not on the map; Belgium, on the other hand, advertises Manneken Pis – a bronze figurine of a small boy urinating – as if it is the greatest piece of sculpture in European history!

Dholavira potteryThere is a small museum as well but most of the artifacts worth seeing have been carted off to Delhi, some to decorate the museums of the capital while most languish unappreciated in ASI warehouses. Other than the eponymous site, there is also a fossil park at Dholavira that we did not visit. Samples of fossilised wood from the park were available at the museum and we were not particularly interested in seeing more.

From Dholavira, we left for the temple town of Somnath. We had decided to skip Dwaraka. For many Hindus, our decision would seem sacrilegious but the fact is that I do not really care about modern temples lending substance to mythology. There are two temples in the area that pilgrims flock to – Dwarkadhish in Dwaraka, and Keshavraiji on Bet Dwaraka, 35 kms away. Admittedly, some of the pillars in Dwarkadhish Temple are close to two thousand years old but this only proves the borrowing of older building material. The finding is still too recent for it to be connected to the mythological Krishna story.

Excavations in the area have found interesting artifacts but most date back only to the Mauryan period. Some discoveries that indicate an earlier date of settlement in the area still do not go much beyond the late Harappan period. Of great interest has been a handful of items that have been carbon-dated to approximately 7,500 BCE. However, the findings are inconclusive at best and may even be natural formations. Suffice it to say that the jury was still out on the whole thing and it was not like we would be able to go scuba diving to see the really cool stuff anyway. Therefore, there was no cause to add Dwaraka to my itinerary.

The journey to Somnath was 450 kms long. In any other state, I would not have dared to start a journey of this length after noon but Gujarat’s roads gave me the confidence that this was doable. The road was iffy until we hit Chitrod, but it got much better from Rajkot on. In fact, we made Somnath in about eight hours, including a stopfor lunch and some shopping. We practically flew until Junagadh but from there, the road was good in spurts only. In the towns, the roads were quite bad. We had to stop in Junagadh for a bit to pick up a mundu for me because I was travelling in cargo shorts and that is not how one goes to meet Lord Shiva! Unfortunately, Gujaratis seem to be a race of midgets, for the mundu I could find was only up to my ankles and that too if I wore it dangerously low!

In Somnath too, the hotels had the same bathroom issue we had bumped into in Mehsana and Dholavira. Thankfully, there are plenty of hotels in Somnath and we could find decent and affordable accommodations quickly.

Somnath Temple silhouetteThe trick about Somnath Temple is to visit it at the crack of dawn and avoid particularly holy days or the holidays. As the primary of the twelve jyotirlingas, it can get pretty crowded on Mahashivaratri for example. The next day, we were knocking on the gates around 05 00. The temple opens at 06 00 but the first aarti is at 07 00. To be fair, we got there so early to do a bit of photography. Security is strict around the temple, and cars have to be parked some 500 metres away. No cameras or leather items are allowed inside the temple, and one’s dress should be…modest. We were among the first in line and we could easily go in, get our darshan, and then wait on the side until the aarti started. It got crowded pretty quickly and any doubts I may have had about getting there so early disappeared as the ardha mandapam began filling up.

Somnath TempleWe observed the aarti in peace and then walked around the temple complex. I was surprised to see so many of my mundu brethren there and a couple of them were eyeing me strangely as if to wonder, Namma oorkaaranga maadiri dress pottuirukkara parasigan yaarappa? Somnath is by the sea and the spot is therefore naturally picturesque. An interesting factoid is that there is no land on the longitude of Somnath Temple south of it until Antarctica, about 10,000 kms away. Behind the temple, there is a covered promenade for devotees to sit and enjoy the view. I can only imagine how nice it must be during the monsoons. Right by the Somnath Temple, is another Shiva temple. That one was built by the Maratha queen Ahilya Holkar in 1783 and stands in the footprint of the original Somnath Temple. Since Somnath had been destroyed so many times, Ahilya Holkar had the garbha griha built in the basement as a security measure.

Everyone knows that the Shiva temple at Somnath was looted by Muslim armies time and again. What I did not know was that the present temple is the seventh one, built in 1951. No one knows precisely when the first temple was built but it is assumed to be around 4CE. The second temple was built by the Yadava kings of Vallabhi around 649. The third temple was built by Gurjara Pratihara King Nagabhata II in 815 after Junayd ibn Abd al-Rahman al-Murri, the Arab governor of Sindh, destroyed it in 725. In 1024, the temple was yet again destroyed in the infamous raid by Mahmud of Ghazni; it was rebuilt by Gujjar Paramara King Bhoj and Solanki King Bhimdev I in 1042. The temple was sacked in 1296 during Allauddin Khilji’s bloody invasion which saw over 50,000 Hindus put to death and over 20,000 sold as slaves. The Chudasama king Mahipala Deva rebuilt the structure in 1308 only for it to be destroyed again by Muzaffar Shah I in 1395, Mahmud Begada in 1451, and Aurangzeb in 1665. Somnath Temple was then rebuilt only after Maratha power waxed in India and the smaller Muslim kings of Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh were crushed. In between, Somnath had been sacked several times without the temple being destroyed.

Sardar Vallabhbhai PatelThe temple that we see today was constructed through the efforts of India’s first home minister, Vallabhbhai Patel. The ruins were pulled down and a fresh build was undertaken. During Islamic suzerainty over Gujarat, Somnath Temple had been converted into a mosque. This mosque moved a few kilometres away to make room for the new temple. Though Patel was the driving force behind the rebuilding of the Somnath Temple, he did not live to see it open. The temple opened in May 1951, five months after Patel’s death. Interestingly, Gandhi also supported the rebuilding of the Somnath temple as did several Congress leaders such as KM Munshi. Jawaharlal Nehru remained the voice of the tiny minority opposed to the temple project.

Trident street lamp, SomnathA Chalukyan style, or more specifically, the Kailas Mahameru Prasad style, was employed in the reconstruction of Somnath. I am no student of architecture but going by what I saw when I visited Badami and its environs, Somnath does not look similar. Perhaps the skills to produce such ornate pillars with such delicate features has been lost and what was achieved was a poor 20th century imitation. Large parts of the garbha griha and sabha mantap have been plated with gold since 2008. Around the temple, some reclamation work has been done – traditionally, the temple sat on the shore but it is now slightly inland and the beachfront around it has big boulders to break the waves and deter potential attackers. Before the temple, a statue of Patel stands, gazing upon one of Hinduism’s holiest shrines.

I will say that Somnath Temple has been maintained quite well. Temple towns have a reputation for pushing the boundaries of filthiness but Somnath was a pleasant surprise. Even the railway station looked tidy despite handling what must be thousands of pilgrims daily. We came back to our hotel and rested for a bit before driving back to Ahmedabad, a distance of 400 kms. Gujarat is not a small state, and sometimes the distances to be covered are vast. It is only with the network of high quality roads that this trip was possible in so short a time. In fact, we made such good time on our journey that day that we decided to stop by Lothal on the way.

Lothal townLothal is another Indus Valley site and is famous for its dry dock (though there has been some debate over this and suggestions that it might just be a large irrigation tank), one of the earliest in the world. The settlement is smaller than Harappa and dates further back. It was also quite prosperous but was subsumed into the Indus Valley fold as waves of migration from the Saraswati-Sindhu basin occurred. The name, ‘Lothal,’ apparently means in Gujarati what ‘Mohenjodaro’ means in Sindhi – mound of the dead – but there is little evidence of burial and lots for cremation at the site.  While we do not know much about what the town was like before the Harappans came there, the urban planning and the water management infrastructure mark Lothal as a quintessential Indus Valley settlement. The settlement’s dimensions are roughly 300 metres long by 200 metres wide.

Lothal dry dockLothal looked different – less haphazard – from Dholavira, probably because Lothal does not have seven layers of habitation. The town is small yet suited to its purpose, i.e., manufacturing and trade. At Lothal, you see a variety of building materials – the town was built with sun-dried bricks, the water system mainly of kiln-fired bricks, and the wharf and warehouses of mud bricks. Since water was plentiful – too plentiful, in fact – the residents of Lothal could afford to use brick rather than stone and therefore their structures retain a clean and polished finish unlike at Dholavira. The town layout follows a grid, streets and buildings perfectly parallel or perpendicular to others. The superstructures have all vanished due to erosion and theft but the bricks that remain still hold true even after four millennia.

Neglected LothalLike its contemporary, Lothal has also been virtually abandoned by the ASI. Grass grows wildly over the site and there did not appear to be anyone guarding it. It would have been very easy for us to pick up and spirit away a few bricks as souvenirs if we so desired. Moss grew over the walls of the dock and several bricks had fallen apart, I would venture from salinity. There is a small museum on site but it was closed when we were there. In terms of accommodation too, there did not appear to be much in the area. Ahmedabad, some 85 kms away, is not particularly well connected to Lothal either – one would have to go to Bagodara or Burkhi and then either catch a local bus or perhaps hitch a ride to Lothal. Thank the gods we were in our own car! There is no food either, the nearest stalls being on the highway some 20 kms away. Sorry, Mr. Bachchan, we would love to breathe in a bit of Gujarat but it is a nuisance to do so.

Gujarat roadsI should also tell you a little bit about Gujarat’s roads that no one else will. Sure, the roads are broader than they are in India and as smooth as many highways in the developed world. None of that really matters, though – if you are going to have goatherds wantonly cut across the highway with their flocks, people driving on the wrong side of the highway (!!) to avoid 500 m of extra driving to a nearby u-turn, drivers going slow in the fast lane, and an abject disregard for lane discipline, no quality of road will help you! So Gujarat’s roads are good but they also warrant caution, something one tends to forget when a beautiful, black ribbon unfolds to the horizon.

One more thing I found absolutely bonkers about Gujarat is its dogs. Unlike normal creatures that get up and run away when a hominid or a speeding car approaches, these canines do not seem to have a care in the world. I have seen cars slow down for them as they do for cows. The only difference is, drivers are a little less worried about hitting dogs than cows. Naturally. Dogs form the bulk of roadkill on Gujarat’s highways because they also have the habit of leaping at speeding vehicles. That whole thing about puppies and wheels during the 2014 general election campaign is now beginning to take on an entirely different hue – avoiding puppies would require extra care in Gujarat!

After three days of long drives and getting up early, we thought it best to lie in for a day. We stayed in Ahmedabad and explored some of its culinary options as well as a couple of local sights. After some spectacular vadapav in the early afternoon, we headed over to Adalaj to see its famous stepwell, some 20 kms away from Ahmedabad. A quick comment on Gujarati cuisine: I still don’t like it, but it is significantly better than I thought after eating what passes as Gujarati food in Bombay. The dhabelis are a great snack option and the vadapav in Ahmedabad is much better than in its home state of Maharashtra! I did not try all the variants of Gujarati cuisine and honestly, I do not think I regret it. My munching style is far more suited to Iran and the cuisines of the countries around the Mediterranean.

Adalaj wellAnyway…Adalaj. The stepwell has an odd history, for starters. It was built by Mahmud Begada, the Sultan of Gujarat, for Queen Roopba, the wife of the Rana Veer Singh of the Vaghela dynasty of Dandai Desh as the territory around Adalaj was known then, after the former had invaded and killed the latter in battle. Begada was apparently overcome by the beauty of the slain king’s wife that he completed the project that Rana Veer Singh had started. Of course, the queen might have preferred that her kingdom not be invaded or her husband killed, but these are minor matters. The stepwell was built in 1499 and once Begada took over the task, in Islamic style. This meant that the well would have no human figurines but instead be decorated only by geometric patterns. Legend has it that the queen agreed to marry Begada only if he finished the well in the memory of her husband but committed suicide in the well as soon as it was completed.

Design on wall at Adalaj 1Adalaj is supposed to be beautiful and I can understand that theoretically. Unfortunately, after Rani ki Vav, it was difficult to see Adalaj as much more than a hole in the ground. The well goes down about five storeys and is quite impressive nonetheless. Some Hindu motifs such as the kalpavriksha and Ami Khumbor have survived the Islamic construction and even blended well with Islamic motifs. On the walls of the well and the many pillars can be found carvings of elephants of different sizes, and occasionally, small figurines of women engaged in domestic chores, dancers, and musicians. One can tell that Adalaj was partially built by a Hindu king from its architecture – the trademark prop and lintel system can be seen in the construction around the funnel of the well. I do not wish to take away from Adalaj – it is indeed a beautiful stepwell – but mayhap a bit bland after Rani ki Vav.

We returned to the city and I decided that I wanted to try out the much talked about Bus Rapid Transport System. The system has its plus points and minus points. On the plus side, the buses are all air-conditioned Volvo wagons and the dedicated lanes for the BRTS makes the journey really quick, especially during rush hour. On the minus side, BRTS is not integrated with the older bus systems in Ahmedabad that serve the more crowded localities and have roads narrower than BRTS can navigate. The stealing of two lanes by BRTS from a regular six-lane road also frustrates many motorists. However, the dedicated lanes solve the problem only up to a point – BRTS is vulnerable at traffic junctions. Ticket prices are comparable to similar services in other cities such as Bangalore.

Hutheesing Jain TempleI took the BRTS to visit the famous Hutheesing Jain Temple. Built in 1848, Hutheesing took Rs. 800,000 to build and is dedicated to the 15th thirthankara, Dharmanatha. The temple was built during a famine and its construction gave much-needed employment to hundreds of labourers and craftsmen. I was surprised to see the quality of craftsmanship that had gone into the temple; I did not expect to see a temple built so recently to even attempt to imitate the grandeur of the past. Hutheesing Temple does a decent job, though, and it makes me reflect unfavourably on all the Maratha temple renovations around the country that look amateurish by comparison.

Hutheesing Jain Column atTemple Craftsmanship at Hutheesing Hutheesing Jain Temple facade

Jama Masjid, Champaner 2On my last day in Gujarat, I decided to go see the other World Heritage site in the state – Champaner, or more accurately, Champaner-Pavagadh. I had not heard any great reviews of the place from any of my friends or relatives who had visited Gujarat previously but surely, a World Heritage site must have something to it! Champaner is 150 kms from Ahmedabad but a good chunk of that distance can be traversed on the National Expressway 1, perhaps the best stretch of road there is in India presently and running between Ahmedabad and Baroda.

Jama Masjid, ChampanerChampaner is no more than a village and a dirty one at that, albeit a 1,200-year-old one, and the points of interest are scattered all over the place. The Heritage Trust of Baroda lists 114 monuments there of which only 39 are being maintained by the ASI. The entire archaeological park contains mosques, temples, forts, wells, tombs, custom houses, and all sorts of interesting structures. Champaner must have been a strategic place because of all the hills surrounding it. Indeed, the Rajputs used the town as a stronghold in the region until they were defeated by Mahmud Begada in 1484. The town went into rapid decline after Mughal emperor Humayun sacked it in 1535.

Dome of Jama Masjid, ChampanerWe did not intend to spend three days in Champaner, sifting through all the monuments. For one, my history of Gujarat is weak and were I to attempt such a comprehensive tour, all monuments would start to blur into each other. I was particularly interested in the Jama Masjid and the Saat Kaman. The Jama Masjid is an interesting construction with several Hindu features incorporated into it. The building is on a plinth, is decorated by motifs such as pots, vines, and even lotuses, and its dome is lifted above the structure on short pillars to allow air to circulate inside. The ASI manages the site and it therefore has the obligatory lawns; however, Jama Masjid and indeed, Champaner itself, had hardly any tourists. I was beginning to wonder if India’s Ministry of Tourism even exists and it is not all just a myth.

Decoration on walls of Jama Masjid, ChampanerJama Masjid was a beautiful monument, as were a couple of the other mosques we stopped to see on the way to Jama Masjid. There was, nonetheless, a visible qualitative difference between the Jama Masjid and the other mosques. From the mosque, we drove to Saat Kaman, half way up Pavagadh Hill. There is a Kalika Mata temple on top and the route up is called patha, or pilgrim’s route. This path is considered to be the soul of Chamapner and the saat kaman, or seven arches, have become a marker of the town. When I got to there, I was sorely disappointed.

Saat KamanThe saat kaman are a very unassuming structure – small, tucked away, and simple. I have no earthly clue what made this one of the favourite subject for tourism posters of Gujarat. So shocked were we that we actually asked a guard nearby if this was indeed the much talked about saat kaman. The seven arches seems to have been a military outpost of some kind for the view from there was quite good and the breeze would be most enjoyable on a hot Gujarati summer’s day. We looked around a bit to see if we had missed anything – we still could not reconcile ourselves to the humbleness of the seven arches – and finally left.

There is much to see and do in Gujarat. One can visit the state as a pilgrim, a wildlife lover, a tourist, or even as a foodie. For me, it was clearly the history that attracted me. One thing that struck me as I readied to go home was that despite the shabby condition of several of the tourist attractions in Gujarat, not one of them sported the traditional Indian defacement of idiotic graffiti such as ‘Jignes loves Nehal’ or ‘Samir wuz here.’ I do not know how they achieved that – perhaps by not promoting tourism at all – but kudos, guys…excellent job.

Something else I noticed was the ubiquitous presence of signs in Gujarati. Everyone understands Hindi, at least in my experience, but signs in Gujarat, from signboards to nameplates, appear mostly in Gujarati. A distant second choice is English, but I saw very little Hindi. Of course, Gujarati is the state language and this should not have surprised me but I took for granted the presence of Hindi alongside English and the local language as I have experienced in Bombay and Bangalore. I suppose this will be an example for the parochially minded elements in other states I shall not mention!

All my travelogues have an ode to the Indian tourist, and this one should not be any different. The good news is that Gujarat’s historical treasures do not seem to suffer from the vandalism and littering other states in India do. The bad news is that the pendulum has swung to the other extreme on this, all the way to neglect and apathy. Dholavira and Lothal appear to be ghost towns in more ways than one but even at Champaner and Modhera, there were few tourists around. At Patan, Rani ki Vav had devolved into a picnic ground thanks to the beautiful lawns provided by the National Gardeners’ Association, also known as the ASI. People were eating, sleeping, and even playing badminton, all things I did not realise were on the agenda at the palaces of Schönbrunn or Versailles. What is more, I suspect many of them had come there with the express purpose of picnicking and not to see the stepwell.

I had a great trip. I already have two itineraries planned for my next visits, one exclusively focusing on the smaller Indus Valley sites that have fallen off the tourist map and another more general one covering the reserve forests, temples, and contemporary history – meaning post 1200 CE. Ahmedabad itself has a lot to offer that I could not avail of this time. This first reconnaissance visit achieved a lot in terms of sight-seeing as well as giving me a feel for the place, its infrastructure, and its logistics that you cannot get from the internet. Here is to hoping that “next time” will come soon 🙂

A few photographs from my travels:

Varaha, Rani ki Vav Mahishasuramardini, Rani ki Vav P1020258
Odissi, Modhera Odissi, Vamana avatara Odissi during Uttarardh, Modhera
Decoration on walls of Jama Masjid, Champaner
Design on wall at Adalaj 2 Statues on Hutheesing Jain Temple walls
Adalaj Jama Masjid, as seen from Saat Kaman Surya Mandir kalyani

This post appeared on Swarajya on May 03, 2015.

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