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Chaturanga

~ statecraft, strategy, society, and Σοφíα

Chaturanga

Tag Archives: Shiva

Visiting the Holy Land

28 Sun May 2017

Posted by Jaideep A. Prabhu in Society, Travelogue

≈ Comments Off on Visiting the Holy Land

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Abd al Malik ibn Marwan, Ahab, Ahmad Pasha al Jazzar, Ajloun, Al Aqsa, Al Deir Monastery, Al Hakim bi-Amr Allah, Al Khazneh, Al-Uzza, Allat, Ammonite inscription, Andromeda's Rock, Antioch on the Chrysorrhoas, Arabic, Aretas IV, Ark of the Covenant, Armageddon, मंदिर वहीं बनेगा, Ba'al Shamin, Bab, Baha'i, Baha'u'llah, bedouin, beef, Beit She'an, Bethlehem, Bible, Black September, Brazen Serpent Monument, Byzantine, Caesarea, cardo maximus, Christianity, Church, Church of St Mary Magdalene, Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Church of the Nativity, Citadel, Corinthian Tomb, Dead Sea, Dead Sea Scrolls, Decapolis, decumanus maximus, Dionysus, Dome of the Rock, Dushara, Edmond James de Rothschild, Floating Orange Tree, Gerasa, ghalyoon, Giovanni Fantoni, Golan heights, Golgotha Altar, Great Temple, Hadrian's Arch, Har ha-Zikaron, Haram al Sharif, Hava nagila, Hezekiah's Tunnel, Hijaz Railway, Holocaust, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Islam, Israel, Jabal Burdah, Jabal Umm Fruth, Jaffa, Jerash, Jerash Music and Arts Festival, Jeroboam II, Jerusalem, Jesus, Jordan, Joseph of Arimathea, King David, King Solomon, kippah, Kotel, Krrish 3, Lawrence of Arabia, Lion Triclinium, love jihad, Madaba, Madaba Map, Maimonides, Malchus II, Mannat, mansaf, Mare Nostrum, Megiddo, Mirza Husayn Ali Nuri, mitzvot, mosaic, Moses, Moshe ben Maimon, mosque, Mount Herzl, Mount of Olives, Mount Scopus, Mt Nebo, Nir Birkat, nymphaeum, Obodas III, Pax Romana, Petra, Pisgah, Qalat ar-Rabad, Qasr al Yahud, Qasr al-Bint, Qubbat al Sakhrah, Qubbat al Silsilah, Quneitra, Ramabm, Ran Morin, Raqmu, Red Planet, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Rome, Rosh Hanikra, Rothschilds, Sabbath, Safra Square, Saladin, Sayyed Ali Muhammad Shirazi, Scythopolis, Seven Pillars of Wisdom, Sextus Florentinus, Sha'ar HaRachamim, Shabbat, Shekinah, Shir Lama'alot, Shiva, Silk Tomb, Siq, St Catherine's Church, Statue of Faith, Stone of Anointing, swastika, TE Lawrence, tel, Tel Hazor, Temple Mount, Temple of Artemis, Temple of Hercules, Temple of the Winged Lions, Temple of Zeus, Thamudic, The Martian, The Mummy Returns, theatre, Thutmose III, Tiberias, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, Transport 222, travelogue, Umayyad, Urn Tomb, Via Dolorosa, Wadi Rum, Wailing Wall, West Bank, Western Wall, Yad Vashem, Yafo, Yardenit, Yom Yerushalayim, Zalabia, Zippori, Zodiac Fountain

The Holy Land. First it was for the trade routes, snaking through arid, hostile terrain connecting Asia with Europe and Africa; then came the frenzied fervour of religion. No other place has been fought over so bitterly for so long by so many. Over the centuries, the Levant has become a repository of many a civilisation and their ruins, of blood, passion, hate, and the hope of redemption. The Holy Land has long been an epicentre for pilgrimage but over the past century and half, it has also attracted greater archaeological curiosity and tourism.

I also partook in this historical richness during a recent trip to Jordan and Israel. It was a short trip – 12 days – but plenty long for a thorough reconnaissance mission that would inform future, more focussed visits. Conveniently, Jordan issues visas upon arrival to Indians and an Israeli consulate in my city saved me the schlep all the way to the embassy for a visa.

Our first stop was Amman, the capital of Jordan. Almost half of the country’s population of eight million live in the capital and its environs, something that is easier to believe after driving through the Jordanian countryside. The first destination on the itinerary, Jerash, had to wait until the next day – despite a relatively short flying time and starting early in the morning, it was evening by the time we had reached our hotel.

Jerash is about an hour’s drive from Amman, approximately 50 kms to the north of Amman. Although archaeological evidence suggests Bronze Age settlements at the site, the extant historical record points to the city achieving a modicum of prominence only under the Greeks. While some sources credit Alexander or one of his generals, Perdiccas, for founding Jerash, its old name of Antioch on the Chrysorrhoas (Golden River) indicates that it was in the reign of Antiochus IV that Jerash came into its own. Jerash, or Gerasa as the Romans called it, grew to become an important trading centre under the Roman Empire and had flourishing relations with the Nabateans. In fact, it was one of the cities of the Decapolis on the eastern frontier of the Empire – for the curious, the others were Philadelphia (Amman), Pella, Gadara (Umm Qays), Dion (Beit Ras), and Raphana in Jordan, Scythopolis (Beit She’an) and Hippos in Israel, and Anatha (El Qanawat) and Damascus in Syria. Jerash was eventually destroyed by two forces – the Persians in 614 and the great earthquake of 749; what little remained was finished off by Muslim and Christian armies alike during the Crusades. As of May 2017, admission charges were (Jordanian Dinar) JD 10.

While Jerash is a fairly large excavation that 30,000 people once called home, a few structures stand out among the ruins. Thankfully, most of these are easy to identify if you have been to other Roman ruins and the services of a guide should not be required as long as proper homework has been done beforehand. The first edifice that greets tourists to Jerash is the famous Hadrian’s Arch. Built in 129 to commemorate the emperor’s visit to the city, the gateway is a triple-arched structure that stands an imposing 11 metres high. Immediately upon entry, one is greeted by the hippodrome, a giant building that once stood 245 metres long and 52 metres wide with a seating capacity of around 15,000 people.

The Visitor’s Centre is actually beyond this, a short walk away, right by the South Gate where the remains of the city walls built by Emperor Diocletian can be seen. One of the main features of Jerash mush be the Oval Forum, 90 metres along its major axis and 80 metres along its minor one. The space is colonnaded by 1st century Ionic columns with two altars in the middle. The cardo maximus, the main north-south road in any Roman town, connects to the Forum and leads to some of the other treasures of Jerash. Typically, the road is paved with stones diagonally so that chariots wheels do not gradually cleave the stones of the dorsum; incredibly, chariot tracks over centuries of use are still visible in the road.

Overlooking the Forum is the Temple of Zeus, built in 162. We were not allowed near it as maintenance work was being carried out. The temple stood on the site of an older Roman temple and was the focal point for those whose ishta deva was not the patron goddess, Artemis.

The cardo leads to the Temple of Dionysus. Given the trade between Nabatea and Gerasa, it would be remiss to discount architectural indications that the temple was actually dedicated to the Nabatean deity of Dushara (Lord of the Mountain) but the pluralistic pagan culture of Rome simply associated the Arabian god with one in their own pantheon. Interestingly, Dushara – Tushara – is associated with Shiva in the Hindu pantheon. The Qasr al-Bint in Petra is believed to be a temple to Dushara and contained a cubical block of stone as its centrepiece much like a lingam in Shiva temples. Regardless, the Temple of Dionysus was converted into a church in the 4th century by the Byzantines. This was during the rule of Justinian, when an orgy of violence against pagan shrines resulted in the recycling of building material for churches. No fewer than 15 churches stand in Jerash today.

Right next to the Temple of Dionysus stands the exquisite nymphaeum. Built in 191, it remains one of the better surviving structures in Jerash. Nymphaeums are a common feature of Roman urban planning, creating pleasant public spaces with flowing water for people to gather around. Usually built around natural grottoes, some have water furnished from afar and serve sacral, utilitarian and/or entertainement purposes.

A broad staircase on the right of the nymphaeum leads to the other better surviving structures of Jerash, the Temple of Artemis. Built in 150 by Emperor Antoninus Pius, a plebeian and one of the five good emperors of the Nerva–Antonine dynasty, the temple honoured the patron goddess of the city. Although the statue was probably destroyed by Umayyad caliph Yazid bin Abd al-Malik’s decree of 720 banning all images and likenesses, much of the damage sustained by the temple was when large parts of it were dismantled to provide masonry for churches under Theodosius in 386. To add insult to injury, Zahir ad-Din Toghtekin converted the temple into a fortress during the Crusades and Baldwin II set fire to it in the course of a battle.

Near the Temple of Artemis is a working replica of an ancient water-powered sawmill used to cut stone. Probably divined from ancient records, a French university sponsored the recreation and installation of the machine at Jerash some ten years ago. The conversion of circular motion to linear motion is an interesting demonstration of the technological skill of the Romans. Nearby, lies the remains of the Byzantine church of St Cosmas and Damian. Built in 533, it contains one of the few surviving mosaics in Jerash. To be fair, the mosaics from the Church of St. John the Baptist, adjacent to Cosmas and Damian, have also survived but have been removed to the Jordanian Museum of Popular Tradition in Amman. Interesting to Hindu tourists will be the swastikas adorning the latter mosaic, although the swastika is an ancient symbol that has been found from Ireland and Bulgaria to Japan.

Like all Roman cities of any standing, Gerasa also had a theatre; in fact, it had two – a South Theatre, built in 90 during the reign of Emperor Domitian with a seating capacity of 3,000, and a North Theatre, built in 165 but enlarged in 235 that could hold up to 1,600 people. The North Theatre was also used for government business during the early hours of the day when the sun was not so strong. Since the South Theatre was the main venue for cultural events, we chose to step inside. Some of it, the stage, for example, has been restored but the basic structure still remains. The acoustics are still quite extraordinary, as we found by virtue of a Jordanian Scottish bagpipe band that puts on a little show there. The South Theatre still sees use – if you visit Jerash in the middle of July, there is an annual Music and Arts Festival for 17 days. Inaugurated by Queen Noor in 1981, the festival showcases a wide array of singers, musical and folklore troupes, poetry readings, handicrafts, art shows, and even ballet, symphony orchestras, and Shakespearean theatre.

Jerash has much more to offer – at least seven mosques along with the usual Roman assortment of bath houses, arches, and colonnaded streets but we had to move on to Ajloun, our next destination. I would budget four hours on site at Jerash for a cursory and relaxed tour of the ruins but history buffs may need more time than that. Ajloun is also to the north of Amman and barely 25 kms away from Jerash. It made sense, therefore, to club the two together, especially since Qasr al-Hallabat, Umm Qays, and Hammam as-Sarah in the northern fringes of Jordan were not on our itinerary.

The fortress at Ajloun had a strictly military function and does not contain the fancy gardens and fountains common to Islamic castle architecture. Built in 1184 by one of Saladin’s commanders and nephew, Izz ad-Din Osama, the watch-post protected commercial routes through the region, controlled the bedouin tribes of Jabal Awf who had allied with the Crusaders, and kept watch over the iron mines in the vicinity. The utility of this fortification was short lived, for Saladin’s victory at the Horns of Hattin in 1187 pushed the Crusaders out of the region. Despite this, Aibak bin Abdullah, a Mamluk governor, expanded the fortress in 1214. Excavations at the site show that Ajloun Castle, also known as Qalat ar-Rabad, was built upon the ruins of a Christian monastery.

Ajloun Castle is important in that it is one of the handful of Ayyubid forts. Its small size meant that the garrison could probably not hold more than 200 men at a time. It should not take visitors more than an hour at the castle, including the small museum on site. Although the halls are bare now, climbing to the top of the ramparts offers a spectacular view of the region.

Upon our return to Philadelphia, as Amman was called in Roman times, we visited the Citadel. Sitting atop one of the seven hills that originally made up Amman – by the way, the number of cities claiming to be established on seven hills is uncanny, probably close to 70 – the Citadel holds one of Amman’s most iconic monuments, the Roman Temple of Hercules. Construction is believed to have started in 162 in the reign of Marcus Aurelius and the complete structure would have been larger than any in even Rome. The temple portico had six 33-foot tall columns of which only two remain intact. However, historians believe that the temple was left incomplete.

The other structure of note on the Jabal al Qal’a, the hill the Citadel stands on, is the Umayyad mosque from around 730. Based on its architecture, scholars surmise that it was built on top of a Byzantine church. The dome you can see now is a restoration, the original having collapsed probably during the great earthquake of 749. The mosque stood as part of a palace complex and lacks a minaret from which to make the call for prayer. Early mosques did not have minarets and the earliest such construction is thought to have appeared only some 80 years after Muhammad’s death. The oldest minaret in the world that is still standing is in the Great Mosque of Kairouan in Tunisia, dating in its present form to 836. The Umayyad mosque – or palace – did not have a long life; both were abandoned after the earthquake.

A nice view of Amman can be had from the Citadel, particularly the Roman theatre on Al Hashemi Street. As in Jerash, the theatre is still in use for cultural events in the Jordanian capital. There is also the Jordan Archaeological Museum at the Citadel, which holds the oldest known inscription in the Ammonite language. I would advise visitors to budget about 75 minutes at the Citadel.

The next day, we left Amman for Wadi Musa. That would be our base of operations for excursions into the famed Nabatean city of Raqmu – Petra – and Wadi Rum. On the way, we planned to hit Mt Nebo and Madaba. The first stop on the way was Mt Nebo, less than 40 kms from Amman, where G-d is supposed to have teased Moses by showing him the Holy Land that he would not enter. Jeremiah is also supposed to have hidded the tabernacle and the Ark of the Covenant in a cave somewhere on the same mountain. Christians believe that Moses died there and was buried somewhere in Moab while Muslims think that their Musa was buried 20 kms outside of Jerusalem at Nabi Musa. Of course, there is another debate whether Mt Nebo is indeed the one mentioned in the Bible but that is another story!

Mt Nebo, also called Pisgah, is about 800 metres above sea level and the ruins of a 4th century church were found on the site in the 1930s. The Franciscans, who purchased the property in 1993, have restored the area. Several beautiful mosaics have been uncovered and are protected by the Memorial Church of Moses, a modern church building that is essentially a shell placed on top of the historical artifacts. The Brazen Serpent Monument, a sculpture by Italian artist Giovanni Fantoni (not to be confused with the 18th century Tuscan poet!), also adorns the mountain top. It combines the idea of Jesus’ crucifixion and Moses casting a bronze serpent on a standard to save his people from the venomous snakes sent by G-d for speaking against Him and Moses (Numbers 21:4-9) into a serpentine cross, an idea mentioned in the New Testament (John 3:14). This is the same symbol of healing and deliverance that mark pharmacies around the world.

As G-d promised in the Bible, you can see Jerusalem, about 50 kms away, from the mountain top. The spring of Moses, mentioned by Egeria the pilgrim (she also wrote a travelogue of her pilgrimage in the 380s 🙂), is also visible. A sight dear to Muslims in the same area is a tree that is believed to have sheltered Muhammad on a hot and sunny afternoon on his way to Syria.

Barely 10 kms away lay Madaba, where we went next. The Greek Orthodox Basilica of St George in Madaba contains the famous Madaba Map, the oldest known geographic floor mosaic – there was no way we could skip that, especially when there was nothing to do in the evening once we reached Wadi Musa! By Jordanian standards, Madaba is not a small town – it has a population of about 60,000 with a growing economy; it is also the site of the American University of Madaba since 2011.

The Visitors’ Centre at the St George Basilica has a short video about the Holy Land and the Madaba Map that might be of interest to tourists. From what is and is not shown on the mosaic of over two million pieces, the map has been dated to between 542 and 570. It is not known who created the mosaic but the Umayyads did remove figures from the mosaic when they conquered Madaba as they did in Jerash. An earthquake in 746 further damaged the piece and it was subsequently lost until 1884. From original dimensions of 21 x 7 metres, the Madaba Map has now shrunk to 16 x 5 metres.

I should probably say a quick word about transportation – although there is public transport – buses, no rail – in Jordan, most locals suggest renting a car, hiring a taxi, or joining group tours for the day. We did the latter: the advantage is obviously that we eliminated waiting time at bus stations or taxi stands but it also meant that we did not always get as much time as we wanted everywhere – sometimes we were given too much time and at others, barely enough. Whatever be one’s opinion about groups, these were universally the suggestions hotel receptionists and tour guides gave us. It may be because public transport is not reliable, or because the network does not serve tourist places with adequate frequency. Since I was not particularly keen on driving around in a place where my grasp of the local language and customs was less than passable, group tour it was. In any case, I suspect renting a car or hiring a taxi would be far more expensive for travellers on a budget.

The drive to Wadi Musa took about three and a half hours. The evening was spent in pursuit of local pleasures such as Turkish coffee or that sweet ghalyoon. Jordanian food is much like the food anywhere else in the Middle East. Hummus, dolma, baba ghanoush, kebab, and so on. What is uniquely Jordanian though, is mansaf. Essentially, the dish is prepared with lamb cooked in jameed – a hard dry yogurt prepared by boiling sheep’s milk which is then salted to thicken and left to dry and ferment – and served on bulgur. Unfortunately, mansaf is too salty for most palates but I did try to make the dish at home once without the excessive salt and it tasted pretty good. Mansaf is not entirely dissimilar to the Turkish Ali Nazik, though with less salt.

An interesting thing to note about Arab food is that the choice of meat leans heavily towards chicken and lamb; during my entire trip, I was offered beef just twice. In this context, the tantrums of the Muslim community in India over a potential ban on beef seems strangely out of place. Beef is just another option, not a proscribed food in Islam.

The next day, we headed to Wadi Rum, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Made famous by the exploits of British military officer TE Lawrence during World War I, Wadi Rum is nothing but 740 km2 of barren desert just north of the border with Saudi Arabia. But barren does not mean empty – besides the expected sand dunes and canyons, there are also inscriptions in Thamudic, Nabatean, and Arabic that go back up to 12,000 years in Jordan’s largest wadi. Several movies have been shot here as well – starting from the most famous Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Red Planet (2000), Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2009), Prometheus (2012), The Martian (2015), and Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) were filmed partially in Wadi Rum. Hindi speakers may also relate to Krrish 3 (2013) which was also shot in the South Jordanian desert.

The desert has its own charm. It may seem odd to someone who has never been in one but there is a deep, calming, gravitas about the desert that I cannot explain. I spent a large part of my childhood in the desert but its seduction did not work until I was in my late teens. Wadi Rum felt…correct. Again. To be clear, the wadi is quite inhospitable to the uninitiated. There is no infrastructure whatsoever and only the local Zalabia bedouins are allowed to live there.

The only way to tour the wadi is by four-wheel-drive pickup trucks. Though there could be a language barrier, you will need a guide at Wadi Rum for everything looks the same to outsiders. Even then, it is unlikely that you will see all there is to see in a couple of hours. We missed, for example, the Jabal Umm Fruth and Jabal Burdah rock bridges, the Nabatean temple and spring, Lawrence’s alleged house, and probably some of the inscriptions. However, we – I – got to climb a nice, big sand dune and come screaming and tumbling down the soft sand. We also saw some of the canyons, the famous Seven Pillars of Wisdom, inscriptions, and where sands of different colours – red, yellow, and white – meet. It is also possible to get camel rides in the desert but at JD 20 for an hour, they seemed a little on the expensive side.

Wadi Rum is sometimes associated with the Roman Empire for the ascetic communities of Byzantine monks who used to live in the area. However, the locals told me that the name has nothing to do with Rome but means high valley, wadi meaning valley in Arabic and Rum meaning elevated in Aramaic. This is not an undeserved name, considering that the highest point in the wadi is almost 2,000 metres above sea level.

There are still several bedouin camps in the desert and some of them have set up restaurants for tourists. There is also life in the desert – for example, an annual camel race is conducted and the site is popular with rock climbers too. There are options to spend a night in the desert under the stars as well as take a ride in a hot air balloon, though we did not partake in such activities.

On the way back, we made a photo stop by railway station at Wadi Rum. During Ottoman times, a narrow gauge line ran from Damascus to Medina through the wadi. The Hijaz Railway was made famous by TE Lawrence’s assault on it during the Arab Revolt that was immortalised in the movie. The station has a life-sized replica of an Ottoman train that used to chug the lines. Today, the railway runs only from the Jordanian port of Aqaba to Amman and does not carry passengers; it is primarily to transport phosphate from the mines to warehouses and shipyards. India is Jordan’s largest customer of phosphate, responsible for 75 percent of the Arab state’s exports.

Petra was scheduled for the next day. Nestled against the slope of Jabal al-Madhbah, the Nabatean capital is the most visited of Jordan’s tourist attractions. Besides its famous rock-cut structures, Petra is known for the remarkable water collecting mechanisms employed by its inhabitants to sustain a flourishing city in the desert. Petra was rediscovered in 1812 during efforts to locate the tomb of Moses’ brother, Aaron. Arab tradition states that it was also Petra where Moses struck a rock with his staff and water flowed forth. We did not have time for the 12 km trek through Petra to meet Aaron, so we saw the tomb perched on a hill top from afar on our way to Wadi Rum the previous day.

Like Wadi Rum, Petra has also attracted film studios. Most famously, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) was shot there as was The Mummy Returns (2001) and Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.

Ticket prices are designed to encourage tourists to stay longer. For example, visitors who are in Petra for just the day are charged JD 90 whereas visitors who have stayed at least a day in Wadi Musa or its environs have to pay only JD 50 for a day pass; a three-day pass is only slightly more expensive, at JD 60. The Jordanian dinar, by the way, is a pegged currency that trades at $1.41 for the dinar. As a point of curiosity, the dinar is divided into 10 dirhams, 100 qirsh/piastres, or 1,000 fulus. Fulus are probably unheard of in quotidian transactions and piastres themselves are rare.

People have lived in and around Petra for at least four thousand years but the metropolis that is today known as Petra did not come into existence until around the sixth century BCE. The city reached its zenith around the close of the first century BCE during the reign of King Aretas IV, when it was a vital trade hub for caravan routes connecting India and China with Egypt and Rome. As a result, Petra had always caught the attention of its neighbours and was repeatedly invaded for its wealth. The city was finally brought into the Roman fold around 106.

Petra’s fortunes declined as another city, Palmyra began to flourish. However, the Nabatean capital retained its role as a centre for religion. Dushara was the patron god of Petra though shrines existed for the other pre-Islamic Arabian goddesses, Mannat, Allat, and Al-Uzza as well. The city was badly damaged by an earthquake in 551 and was finally abandoned after the Muslim conquest in 663.

The traditional entrance to the city for tourists is from the east. It is a short walk from the entrance to the Siq, perhaps 800 m or so. For those who are not so fit physically, horses or donkeys may be hired to cover this distance. A couple of Nabatean structures exist on this path to pique your curiosity for later. Right by the entrance to the Siq, the Bab al-Siq, are the Djinn blocks and an Obelisk tomb. As you walk deeper into the Siq, notice the occasional niches along the sides that held idols of Nabatean gods. Wind and water erosion over the years has given some of the rocks odd shapes and some of the striations are quite beautiful.

The Siq is slightly over a kilometre long and opens onto the breathtaking Al Khazneh, or Treasury. Despite its name, one thing archaeologists are sure of is that the building was not a treasury. Given the ornamentation on the outside, it may have been a royal tomb or a temple. Outside the Treasury, it is possible to hire camels or horse carriages to explore Petra further. While this is useful as long as you stay on the main track, it might not be as helpful if you want to climb up to a view point, the Royal Tombs, or other points of interest.

The main track leads right from Al Khazneh to the Street of Facades, which is lined with tombs. At the end is a staircase which gives a good view of the main area of Petra and leads to a sacrificial altar. There are about 700 steps, so be warned before you start the climb! Regardless, nothing stops the interested tourist from climbing up 200 steps to enjoy the view of Petra.

A little further along is the theatre. Given the similarity in design to Roman theatres, it is assumed that this was a Roman construction. However, Petra deteriorated under Roman rule owing partly to the sea routes that opened up across the Mediterranean. The theatre is also dated to the first century, before the Romans conquered Petra. This is not to say that the Nabateans had not been influenced by Greek and Roman architecture all over the Levant. The theatre is believed to have been able to accommodate 4,000 people.

Across from the theatre are the Royal Tombs. Not much is known about them except that they held several nobles. The Urn Tomb is recognisable by the courtyard in front and the colonnade on both sides. Inside, three asps are clearly visible from when the tomb was converted into a church; this is further corroborated by inscriptions on the wall recording its consecration in 447 by a Bishop Jason.

Nearby is the Silk Tomb which is distinguished by the colourful swirls of rock inside. Further along is the Corinthian Tomb whose ornate classical facade has been badly eroded but is still visible. At the end, the Palace Tomb has an elaborate three-storeyed facade with multiple entrances and a courtyard in front just like the Urn Tomb. These tombs are believed to have been constructed around 70, during the reign of Malchus II or Aretas IV.

These are the main tombs in Petra, though there are over 500 in all. Some are slightly more prominent, such as the one of the Roman governor Sextus Florentinus or the Roman Soldier Tomb, but most are badly eroded or were damaged when they were recycled for other purposes by later generations. Even the Florentinus Tomb is badly eroded but a Latin inscription identifies its occupant and dates it to 130.

From the theatre, down from the tombs, is a straight road to the Great Temple and the Qasr al-Bint at the end of the street. Large swathes of land on both sides are yet to be excavated but what little has been discovered – the nymphaeum, for example – is so badly damaged that it is quite easy to miss. A short colonnaded stretch comes up just before the Great Temple, one of the most spectacular structures in Petra and discovered only recently in 1992.

The Great Temple was built in the first century but like the Treasury, the it may have also been inappropriately named. For one, the lower level of the two-storeyed building contains a large hall suitable for public gatherings; secondly, the upper level has a theatron that could as easily be a bouleuterion. Additionally, the upper level is flanked by colonnaded walkways while the lower one by exedrae. Overall, the structure screams “government building” more than it resembles a temple. When I asked the guide about my suspicions, he admitted that this was a theory that was getting more support of late. However, for the group, he chose to go with the simple, popular, and possibly wrong explanation. This is unfortunate because it means that anyone who has not seen Hellenistic or Roman architecture before will simply be misled, not even knowing what to look for or ask.

Another reason the Great Temple might not have been a temple is that it stands right next to the Qasr al-Bint (al-Faroun). Although the Arab name for the building means Castle of the Pharaoh’s Daughter, it was unmistakably a temple – probably to Dushara. It makes no sense for two massive temples to the same deity stand right next to each other, and early archaeologists might have confused one for the other. The Qasr al-Bint was built around 30 BCE by Obodas III and is a large and imposing building in its own right, with three chambers and an altar out in front. Roman inscriptions name two of the deities worshipped – Ba’al Shamin and al-Uzza. One can only assume the third was Dushara given the god’s importance to the city.

Across the street from the Great Temple lies the Temple of the Winged Lions and a Byzantine church behind that, both of which require a little climbing. The temple has a recognisable structure of altar and pillars while the Byzantine church offers a couple of mosaics to those who made the effort to find it.

We stopped at this point as we did not have more time in our schedule for Petra. If you push on further for about 45 minutes – and remember that you are already about 30-40 minutes in from the entrance – you will come upon the Lion Triclinium and the Al Deir monastery, the largest building in Petra. There is also a steep climb involved, some 800 steps according to tourists who were ahead of us to reach the monastery.

Ideally, I would budget three days for Petra: one would be to trek to Aaron’s Tomb, another to follow the main trail, and the third to see the lesser trails and Little Petra – some of the surrounding caves and ruins nearby. A magical experience would be to do Petra by night, when they light up Al Khazneh with hundreds of candles. If this sounds too involved for your taste, I would still recommend approximately six hours at the site so that you can see the main trail up to Al Deir completely.

In the afternoon, we headed back to Amman so that we could proceed to cross over into Israel the next day via the King Hussein Bridge near Jericho. The border was only 50 kms away but we hoped to get there early to beat any crowd and to start our tour of Israel. The crossing facilitates not just entry into Israel but is also used by Palestinians living in Jordan to visit the West Bank. However, since Israeli customs do not have separate queues for those wishing to enter Israel and those heading to the West Bank, it becomes imperative to beat any crowd. Plus, it was the weekend.

It is important to note that neither country grants entry visas at the King Hussein Bridge border crossing, nor stamps the passports of departing travellers. Even travellers eligible for visas on arrival must get their paperwork beforehand if they wish to use this crossing.

When you are stuck on a bus with four hours to kill, it is inevitable that you start to interrogate your guide. I found out that Jordanians love their monarchy because the Hashemites did not have a reputation for corruption or severity. If the rest of the Middle East is to be the benchmark, I think the Jordanians have a point there. King Hussein, for example was popular not only in his own country but even globally as a good ruler and a decent man.

While our guide was clear about where Jordan stood on Palestine, after a bit of prodding, it turned out that Jordanians were less clear about their feelings towards Palestinians. The memories of Black September, especially among the older generation, remain fresh despite nearly 50 years having passed. Palestinian misbehaviour or disloyalty in other Arab countries – such as their support for Qadimah in 1990 during the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait – has only reinforced a feeling of betrayal and resentment among many Arabs.

It was also interesting to see the deep unease Jordanians felt for the peace treaty with Israel that had been negotiated by their beloved king. When the Arab military track record against Israel was pointed out to our guide, he replied that some things cannot be understood by loss and gains – an interesting sentiment I also heard across the border regarding settlements.

Early next morning, we set out on our aliyah. In Hebrew, the word means elevation or going up and is used to describe moving to Israel. We were at the border by 08 15 despite a photo stop at a bizarre sign that announced that we were at sea level. We had to change buses and guides at the border and went north to Beit She’an, our first destination in Israel.

One of the cities of the Roman Decapolis, Beit She’an goes back at least 5,000 years like anything in the Holy Land. The city is perhaps most famous for being the site where King Saul and his sons were hung from the walls by the Philistines. Beit She’an’s story parallels that of Jerash – it was developed by the Greeks as Scythopolis but found its glory days under the Pax Romana when its population burgeoned to 40,000; much of the ruins today are from Roman times. When the Byzantines came, they destroyed all the pagan temples and built churches. By the time the Umayyads came, the city was well past its prime. Surprisingly, the Muslims lived beside their Christian subjects without demolishing the churches. Beit She’an was devastated by a massive earthquake in 749 after which it never recovered. Life went on under the Crusaders, Ottomans, and British but Beit She’an was no longer an important administrative centre as it had been from the time of the Egyptians until the Byzantines. One European traveller in the early 1800s described it as a miserable village with no more than 70 houses.

The oldest ruins of the site can be found atop a hill on the north side. Remains of the Egyptian governor’s house, parts of the fortifications built by King David and Solomon, and the ruins of a temple to Zeus can be found at the top. Beit She’an is a typical Roman city, with a theatre, nymphaeum, the defining cardo – called Palladius Street according to an inscription, named after a 4th century Roman general – bath houses, temples, mosaics, public toilets, an agora, and colonnaded streets. Although it is the the best preserved Roman city in Israel, it fails to excite someone who had just been to Jerash a couple of days ago.

From Beit She’an, we moved on to Yardenit, the alternate baptismal site on the River Jordan. Usually, the site is packed with pilgrims or the about-to-be-converted but we were lucky and found the place relatively peaceful. Interestingly, the site we visited is not exactly where Jesus is believed to have been baptised by John; that site is Qasr al Yahud, a good 115 kms away and just north of the Dead Sea. Yardenit was established in 1981 because of constant military activity near the Jordanian border. Qasr al Yahud was reopened in 2011 yet Yardenit continues to attract over 400,000 visitors each year.

From Yardenit, the Golan is not too far and we drove further north to the last spot of the day. There is plenty to see in the Golan but I suspect its fame is largely due to its annexation by Israel after the Six-Day War in 1967. After Syria’s failed attempt to recapture the heights during the 1973 Yom Kippur War, Israel agreed to return five percent of the Golan to Syrian civilian administration. A United Nations Disengagement Observer Force monitors the area. In 1981, Israel removed the Golan from under military rule and extended its civilian administration right up to the border. The Syrian government helped to resettle people displaced by the border shift except for Quneitra, whose ruins from the two wars it maintained as anti-Israel propaganda.

Sites of interest in the Golan for those who are on a longer trip would be Gilgal Refa’im for its ancient megalithic structure, The Roman-era Jewish town of Umm al Kanathir, the Greco-Roman town of Hippos (one of the Decapolis), Tel Hazor of the Canaanites and Israelites, and perhaps the medieval Islamic Nimrod Castle. For us simple folk, we just enjoyed the view from a hill top. On the way up, the Israelis had put up some rather inventive sculptures of the oddest things made with weapons parts and were quite amusing.

At the top, the view was quite nice and green; it was easy to forget that you were essentially in the middle of a desert. We bumped into a couple of soldiers from the UNDOF and I asked them how their job goes. They reported that it was all quiet on the Northern Front. Israel has also been running medical camps for any of the Syrians who come across the border – unarmed, of course – and that has created some confusion among the locals: the country they had been taught was their arch enemy was offering them aid while their own people were savagely attacking them?

I asked our guide about what the general Israeli view was regarding what was going on in Syria and Iran. Unfortunately, I got the stock answer I might have heard from directly from Benjamin Netanyahu: Assad was bad, and Iran was expansionist. When I pushed back, citing Israeli sources, the guide quickly fell quiet. I guess these were not issues she was familiar with and she just passed on what she saw on the television, read in the papers, or heard from her friends (who may have seen it on the television, read in the papers, or… ). What made her answer interesting was that she was not a Bibi supporter, meaning that her views were prevalent even in circles that were not fond of the prime minister.

We stayed in Tiberias, that lovely town on the western shore of the Galilee. It also happens to be one of Judaism’s four holy cities (Hebron, Safed, and Jerusalem, in case you were wondering 🙂). After the Bar Kokhba Revolt in 132-5, when Rome destroyed Jerusalem and expelled all the Jews from its environs, many of the rabbis and scholars came to Tiberias. Simeon bar Yochai settled in the city as did Johanan bar Nappaha and Judah Hanasi. Most importantly, for me, Tiberias holds the tomb of Moshe ben Maimon. Tiberias was not touched because it had not taken part in the revolt.

Early next morning, I visited the tomb of the Rambam. We are not sure where Maimonides was actually buried but all the legends point to the western shore of the Galilee. The tomb is also shared with Johanan ben Zakai and Isaiah Horowitz, important Jewish scholars in their own respect. The tomb was, to put it mildly, it was most disappointing. An odd structure stands atop the graves, which I was told was a depiction of a flame – all I am saying is that we should keep postmodernists away from anything of value!

Our group decided to go for a cruise on the Sea of Galilee that morning. It would have been a total waste had it not been for the surprising programme the captain had in store for us. First, he raised an Indian flag alongside the Israeli one on the mast accompanied by the Indian national anthem, and then he proceeded to encourage us to dance to all sorts of Israeli music. I did not recognise most of it but Hava nagila was reliably present.

Next, as prophesied in Revelation 16:16, we gathered at the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon. Megiddo is one of the oldest settlements in the Middle East, with human presence going back to 7,000 BCE. Located strategically at the head of a pass through Carmel Valley and overlooking the Jezreel Valley, it was inevitable that the settlement would be at the centre of many battles. Three consequential ones were between Egyptian pharaoh Thutmose III and the Canaanites in the 15th century BCE, between King Neco of Egypt and King Josiah of the Kingdom of Judah in the 7th century BCE, and more recently, between the British and the Ottomans during World War I.

I overheard someone in the group mention something about “another pile of rocks” as we approached Megiddo. Technically, that is true. Ruins that go as far back as Megiddo does are usually no more than a pile of rocks – take Dholavira in India, for example, which is probably a couple of millennia younger. However, the importance of a historical pile of rocks can only be understood through interest and familiarity with their history. The tel of Megiddo – it is not technically a hill – holds the remains of one or two or even ten settlements but 26 layers of inhabitation have been found so far. So, needless to say, it is a fairly substantial pile of rocks.

To the discerning eye, there are some 20 structures that can be made out at Megiddo. Most, however, should recruit the assistance of a guide. All tours will start at the Canaanite gate, go past the Canaanite palace through the Israelite gate, by the stables, a main palace, and to the temple area.  Although the Israelite gate is usually associated with King Solomon, recent radiocarbon dating puts the date a little more recently during the reign of Jeroboam II in the 8th century BCE.

A little further along, past the burial chamber is a viewing point whence the plains of Megiddo are visible. Evangelical tourists, we were told, particularly from America, are severely affected by the sight. Some started to weep while others launch into an impromptu display of glossolalia.

Do not miss the public granary, the most discernible of structures perhaps. There is also an Assyrian quarter with its own palace and stables, which should not be surprising given that there are 26 layers of civilisation one on top of another. One of the more spectacular sites at Megiddo is its water system. A central well, known as Ahab’s well, was fed by water from a spring some 80 metres outside the city. The inhabitants dug the well and then the underground tunnel to the spring so that their water supply would not be threatened during a siege. Of course, crediting anything to Ahab, an evil king according to the Bible, is going to be controversial – especially after Solomon’s gate was taken away from him by science. Visitors can walk along the tunnel – after descending some 180 steps – and see the spring, though it is not burbling as it used to due to water diversification and greater use.

Such feats of engineering, though rare, are not quite uncommon. In the Holy Land of circa the eighth century BCE alone, we know of a similar water system at Hazor, albeit shorter at 25 metres, and Hezekiah’s Tunnel in Jerusalem. In fact, an inscription states that the 540-metre-long tunnel under the City of King David was dug from both ends, attesting to the remarkable surveying and engineering skills of the Israelites.

After Megiddo, we went to see the famed Mona Lisa of the Galilee at Zippori. There is evidence of habitation since the Neolithic period but sustained building work and town planning can be confirmed only from the fourth century BCE. The town achieved its full glory during the reign of Herod, when the Jewish historian Josephus called Zippori the ornament of the Galilee. The city was, however, badly damaged by a massive earthquake in 363. In essence, Zippori is a Greco-Roman town that was later inhabited by Byzantines, Muslims, Crusaders, Ottomans, British, and finally Israelis like many of the other ruins in the country; few seem to have been totally abandoned.

Although Zippori does not sound particularly different from Beit She’an or Hippos, its importance comes from the fact that this was where the Sanhedrin sat and where Judah Hanasi completed the Mishnah before he moved to Tiberias. Zippori is also thought to be the birth place of Mary, Jesus’ mother.

Primary places of interest are the synagogue, theatre, the Crusader castle, the Dionysus House, and the Nile Festival House. The Crusader castle offers a great view of the entire site, so you cannot go wrong with that. The Dionysus House is where the Mona Lisa of the Galilee mosaic was discovered. It is a spectacular piece of work, one of the best mosaics I have seen anywhere in terms of richness and variety of colour as well as the number of tesserae. Unlike the actual Mona Lisa in the Louvre, I assure you that this one is not overrated! Dionysus House is believed to have belonged to a very rich Roman who was clearly very fond of entertaining.

The Nile Festival House holds a few other large floor mosaics depicting centurions, amazons, and animals that our guide told us was from the Byzantine era. The “House” was actually a public space and so has little else by which to date it. Do not miss the synagogue, which is right by the Visitors’ Centre and hosts a fantastic four-part mosaic depicting the sacrifice of Isaac, the tabernacle in the desert, the Ark of the Covenant, and the signs of the Zodiac. There is also a video that shows the Jewish history of Zippori, especially the last days of Judah Hanasi. The video is not bad but it ends with a beautiful orchestral rendition of what I think was Shir Lama’alot that should not be missed.

Before heading south, we made one last excursion north to the Hula Nature Reserve. It was a rather plan, if you ask me: Hula Valley is famous for being visited by some 40 million birds during the migratory season and can be quite spectacular at the right time of the year. May is not that time. I am not much of a birdwatcher but if you are, March and November may be the best times to visit. There was, however, a very nicely done 3D audio-visual show at the Reserve with special effects. I will not ruin it for you – go see what the effects are yourself!

We greeted my old friend, the Mediterranean Sea, at Rosh Hanikra. The name means ‘Head of the Grottoes’ in Hebrew and is the site of an underground railway built by the South African and New Zealand armies in service of the British Empire in 1941-2. The coastal line extended the Acre-Remez line built by the British in 1920 through to Tripoli. Although this was a military line, one notable civilian exception was made: In June 1944, Transport 222 carried 222 Jews from the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp to Palestine in a repatriation programme with the British for German Templers in the Holy Land. Between 1941 and 1944, three such exchanges were made and 400 Templers were repatriated back to Germany.

There is not much to see at Rosh Hanikra but the brilliant blue water of the Mare Nostrum is still worth the visit. There is a short cable car ride that is advertised as the world’s steepest, at a gradient of 60 degrees to access the grottoes. There is no train ride now, even for a short distance. There is, however, a video visitors can watch that tells of the history of Rosh Hanikra. The border checkpoint on the border with Lebanon runs right up against the grottoes but is not open to tourists or travellers. There is a beach nearby too, but resist the temptation – there are rocks and strong undercurrents; besides, it is too close for comfort to an international border between two nations not on the best of terms.

Our next stop was Acre, one of the rare natural harbours along the Israeli coast. It is the holiest city for the Baha’i faith, presumably because Mirza Husayn Ali Nuri died there in 1892. Acre has been a port city since Phoenician times and has the ruins and landmarks of a dozen civilisations to show it. The entire Old City of Acre, primarily famous for its Crusader and Islamic monuments, is now a World Heritage site.

Given the narrow winding streets on the Old City, we did our sightseeing by foot. It would be faster and there is nothing wrong with a bit of exercise! We started with the 18th century mosque built by the Bosnian general of the Ottoman Empire, Ahmad Pasha al Jazzar. The general’s moniker means “butcher” in Arabic, a reputation that was well earned. The Butcher built his mosque in 1781 on the site of a former Christian prayer house of material that was taken from the ruins of Caesarea, Atlit, and other nearby ruins. The largest mosque in Israel outside of Jerusalem, AL Jazzar boasts of possessing a relic – a hair from the beard of Muhammad.

The Crusader Citadel is a short walk from the mosque and is the entry point to the Templar Tunnels and the Hospitallers Knights’ halls. Crusader structures throughout the Holy Land are massive fortifications, indicating their (deserved) unpopularity among the locals. During the Mandate, the Citadel served as a prison and held Jewish political prisoners among others. On May 4, 1947, one of the most famous prison breaks occurred in which 27 Jewish independence fighters escaped as did 182 Arabs; nine were killed in the escape attempt and eight were recaptured. Despite the mixed success, the Irgun’s rescue attempt was widely hailed as strategic brilliance and British prestige was considered to have taken a nosedive.

Crusader City, as it is now called, lies below the Citadel with its large halls and massive columns. It was probably last used in 1291 when the Christian garrison of Acre was defeated by Muslim armies out of Egypt. The Templar Tunnels run from this city to the port and were used by many as Acre finally fell to the Muslims. The underground city was complete in every respect, containing marketplaces, medical services, residences, and a church.

I would have said something about how one must walk through the Old Souk to get a feel of what a medieval marketplace felt like but the same sort of narrow, winding streets and crowds are ubiquitous in India and perhaps the novelty is not so much. Nonetheless, it is still a good place to pick up souvenirs. As you finish with the Souk, you should hit the fortifications and sea walls. It is a nice place to walk along and bump into the Franciscan St John Baptist Church which was built in 1737.

We moved on to Haifa for the night’s stay and on our way in, caught a view of the Baha’i Gardens in Israel’s largest port city. Also known as the Hanging Gardens of Haifa for its 19 levels of terracing, the garden holds the shrine of Sayyed Ali Muhammad Shirazi, the Bab, who was the forerunner of Baha’u’llah. No services are held in the shrine but it is a place for quiet contemplation and meditation. The garden is beautiful, but I felt that the view up or down its terraces was more pleasing than the garden itself. If you happen to be enjoying the pleasure of a ghalyoon or a drink in one of the many restaurants along Sderot Ben Gurion in the evening, it might be worth swinging by the Hanging Gardens for a quick glimpse by night.

After an obligatory halt at the Haifa beach next morning, we visited Caesarea. King Herod converted the former Phoenician naval station into a city of splendour in honour of his patron Augustus Caesar between 30 and 10 BCE and the port became the administrative centre of the Judean province of the Empire. Today, little has changed in Caesarea – the town is still one of the poshest localities in Israel and home to wealthy industrialists, businessmen, artists, and politicians. The current prime minister of Israel has his personal residence there, as does golfer Laetitia Beck, singer Keren Ann, the French branch of the Rothschild family, and the Wertheimers, Israel’s richest family. In a bit of modern extravagance, Caesarea is home to Israel’s only 18-hole golf course.

The harbour at Caesarea rightly gets the most attention. The largest artificial harbour of its time, the pace of work and ingenuity in its creation made it a truly remarkable achievement of Roman engineering and Caesarea rivalled Alexandria. Recent excavations have shown, however, that the construction was not as sturdy as thought and between seismic activity and the sea, the harbour eventually tilted into the waters and settled on the seabed. Despite its struggle with nature, the port did not diminish until after the Byzantine era when it fell in Muslim hands.

One of Herod’s extravagances was a palace on the promontory with an Olympic-sized swimming pool jutting into the sea. On one side of Herod’s palace is a theatre that could hold about 3,500 people; on the other is a hippodrome that could accommodate about 5,000. Like other Roman towns we had been to, Caesarea also contained bath houses and mosaics. Like the others, churches had been built over pagan shrines and some of the mosaics were from the Christian period while others were earlier. On the beaches, it is still possible to find flecks of green in the sand that are most likely jade from Roman times.

Interestingly, Caesarea is partially owned by the Rothschilds. Edmond James de Rothschild was a strong supporter of Zionism and had purchased much land in Mandatory Palestine on behalf of the World Zionist Organisation. Upon the creation of Israel, the family agreed to transfer the land to the new state. However, 35,000 dunam – about 35 km2 – around Caesarea were leased back to the Caesarea Edmond Benjamin de Rothschild Foundation for a period of 200 years. Caesarea is the only locality in Israel that is run by a private corporation rather than a municipality and the profits go towards promoting advance higher education and culture in Israel.

The beautiful blue waters of the Mare Nostrum and the Roman ruins on the shore made for a truly beautiful scene. I regret that we rushed Caesarea like frenzied tourists and would advise visitors to plan on a good four hours at the site. If you go by the harbour, you may even take a dip in the water.

Jaffa was the next destination for lunch as well as a walking tour. Honestly, I enjoyed the feel of Yafo more than anything I saw there but we did walk by Ran Morin’s Floating Orange Tree, the Statue of Faith in Abrasha Park, the 17th century St Peter’s Church, the Zodiac Fountain, and, of course, by Andromeda’s Rock and along the harbour.

Morin’s exhibit in the middle of the street has been entertaining passers by since 1993 and it gave me the odd sensation of being in a Surrealist painting! The suspended tree probably symbolises the separation of Man from Nature. The Statue of Faith in Abrasha Park depicts three scenes from the Bible whose message is, you guessed it, to have unquestioning faith in G-d. Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac and Jacob’s dream of a ladder to Heaven are depicted on the pillars while the crosspiece shows Joshua bringing down the walls of Jericho.

Andromeda’s Rock gives Jaffa a nice touch of the classical. The story goes that these were the rocks upon which Andromeda was lashed as an offering to the sea monster Cetus when Perseus rescued and married her. Cassiopeia had once boasted that her daughter, Andromeda, was far more beautiful than the Nereids seen in the company of Poseidon. Angered by this, Poseidon sends a sea monster to harass sailors coming into or leaving the city’s harbour. Finally, an understanding is reached by which the object of the boast would have to be sacrificed. Andromeda was stripped naked and tied to the rock. Perseus manages to kill Cetus by wearing the invisibility cloak Hades had given him.

You can get a beautiful view of modern Tel Aviv from the waterfront at Yafo. The coast curves in much like Marine Drive in Bombay and the area is a popular spot among locals as at all cities by the water. By the way, most of the Jews who emigrated to Israel from India in the 1950s and 1960s are in Ashdod, about 45 minutes south of Tel Aviv. India’s Jewish population peaked around 30,000 at the time of independence but is now around 5,000; the descendants of Indian Jews in Israel today number around 70,000.

Jerusalem was our last destination and our arrival fortuitously coincided with Yom Yerushalayim, the day Jerusalem was liberated from the Jordanians during the Six-Day War. On normal calendars, that date in June 7, but Israel follows the lunar Hebrew calendar and according to which Jerusalem was liberated on the 28th of Iyar; this year, that fell on the evening we arrived in the city – yes, Jews also start counting their days from the evening before! Similarly, although May 14 is the date on which Israel was declared, Israelis celebrate Independence Day on the 5th of Iyar.

Jerusalem’s complicated status as at once the capital of Israel and disputed territory obviously raised some questions about settlements. I had an Israeli diplomat once answer me long ago that one way of looking at the settlement issue was that the Arabs took a gamble on eradicating Israel; they staked Palestine and lost. It was brazen for them to now hector for the status quo ante. While logical at a gut level, that defence held little water legally. Our guide had another, more discouraging perspective. Jerusalem – in fact the whole Land of Israel – was sacred ground that was promised to the Jewish people by G-d. Any compromise on even an inch of land was against G-d’s wishes. Settling the land in Israel was not about economic opportunities or escaping anti-Semitism: for these people, it was simply the right thing to do and there was no rational, legal, political, economic, or other argument the West could make to convince them otherwise. “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,” Psalm 137 reminds us, “may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth…”

There was also another group who believed that by creating “reality on the ground,” Israel’s bargaining position when it came to making that final peace deal would be strengthened. While settling in disputed territory was against international law, they argued, possession was nine tenths of the law. Clearly, we were not going to bring peace to the Middle East on this trip!

Another question Jerusalem triggered in my mind was the Israeli/Jewish response to proselytism. Judaism does not proselytise and in my experience, most Jews actually discourage you from converting to Judaism! How do Israelis react to missionaries that are sent out by churches in the United States and Europe every year to whittle away a little more of the pluralism worldwide? Our guide said that Israelis generally despised and this was validated by a couple of other people I asked – they all had a look on their face as if they had just swallowed curdled milk. Regardless, Israel has managed to stay off the international radar on such sociocultural frictions – there is either no reaction against such activity despite the rancour it creates or it does not make the papers.

Something that does make the papers but is often disguised as violence or crime is the conversion to Islam. It is the contention of many Israelis, allegedly with evidence in the form of public addresses and pamphlets that I did not see, that there is a concerted campaign by Arab youths from parts of the Muslim Quarter to seduce Jews and influence them into converting to Islam for love. The target is usually young Jewish girls. Similar accusations abound in India and the phenomenon is known as love jihad though it is usually scoffed at by the fourth estate and their friends. What struck me was how similar the stories sounded to the ones I had heard in South Canara or Bangalore.

Jerusalem has a reputation as a conservative city. Generally, the burghers are devout and observe the Sabbath. Many take their religious studies and obligations seriously and follow the mitzvot down to the last nikkud. To outsiders, some of this may seem strange or downright insane. To give just one example, the Sabbath is supposed to be a day of rest, reflection, and prayer; Jews are forbidden from working from sundown Friday until sunset on Saturday. To most, this would simply mean staying away from school or office. Some Jews, however, take it a step further and abstain from any work: they do not answer the phone, turn on the stove, or even press a button to call an elevator! In my hotel, I saw a sign for the “Shabbat elevator” and had a quiet chuckle as I remembered how seriously Shabbat is observed by some. It had been a while since I had been among so many Jews that such signs were necessary and it was positively hilarious watching others less familiar with the kooky world of Orthodox Jewry scratch their heads and try to puzzle out why anyone would want the elevator to automatically stop at each floor.

Our first stop the next day was Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Memorial. Since we got there a little before opening, we swung by the Children’s Memorial, a separate structure on site to remember the 1.5 million Jewish children who were butchered in the Shoah. I decided to also quickly run up to Mount Herzl and pay my respects to Vladimir Jabotinsky and Theodor Herzl. Unfortunately, the area was closed because of preparations for Jerusalem Day celebrations later that afternoon.

Yad Vashem is organised chronologically, from just before the beginning of the Nazi era until the creation of Israel. The memorial slopes slightly upwards and overlooks Jerusalem Valley at the end, giving the feeling of crawling out of darkness into the light. The museum is very well done, with hours of video recordings and many heart-rending exhibits. There were more than a few wet eyes among the visitors, many of them non-Israeli. Children below the age of 10 are not allowed in Yad Vashem for obvious psychological reasons.

Time at Yad Vashem is tricky – as someone who has been very interested in Jewish history, Europe, and World War II, I would have liked to spend a good four hours at the memorial. However, the topic lies so heavy that it is not easy to digest more than a couple of hours at a stretch. How long you want to budget depends on not just your interest but also your fortitude.

Overcoming the sombre mood after Yad Vashem, we headed to the Shrine of the Book in the Israel Museum where they kept the Dead Sea Scrolls and had a model of Jerusalem as it was during the time of the Second Temple. The building housing the Dead Sea Scrolls consists of a black wall and a white dome only a third of which is above the ground. The black and white is supposed to represent the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness, an apocalyptic prophecy of war found in one of the scrolls. The inside of the building itself is also designed to resemble a cave.

About half of the scrolls are simply copies of religious texts. A quarter are writings that did not make it into the Old Testament, such as the Book of Enoch or the Book of Tobit or the Wisdom of Sirach. The last part are texts that describe the beliefs and customs of various sects in existence around the time of the Second Temple.

I was not particularly excited to see the scrolls myself; left to my own devices, I would have rather spent the time attending a lecture at Hebrew University on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Call me utilitarian but the ideas contained on the fragile parchment are far more interesting than some two-millennia-old trinkets.

Most of the scrolls were discovered in Wadi Qumran in the late 1940s and early 1950s and Israel owns the largest collection of scrolls. The government has a policy of buying any scroll that may have escaped into private hands and intends to maintain as complete a collection as possible. So far, almost a thousand scrolls have been discovered from a dozen caves.

Around noon, we headed over to Bethlehem. The city is perhaps most famous for being where Jesus was born but it is also where King David was born and where Rachel died giving birth to Ben-oni (Benjamin). Although Bethlehem was destroyed by Hadrian during the Bar Kohkba Revolt, it was rebuilt by the mother of Roman Emperor Constantine who also built the Church of the Nativity in 327. The church was subsequently damaged during one of the Samaritan uprisings against the Byzantines but was restored by Justinian.

On a side note, many people mistakenly believe that Constantine converted the Empire to Christianity but that dubious honour goes to Theodosius (and Gratian and Valentinian II) and the Edict of Thessaloniki in 380. Constantine was the first emperor to convert to Christianity and it was his Edict of Milan in 313 that legalised Christianity in Roman lands.

There are three origins to Bethlehem’s name. The town was known as Beit Lakhmu, meaning House of God in Aramaic. The Israelites called it Beit Lechem, meaning House of Bread, and the Muslims know it as Beit Laham, or House of Meat.

The Church of the Nativity is a UNESCO World Heritage site and also on the List of World Heritage in Danger. The oldest church still in existence, it marks the spot where Jesus is supposed to have been born. Of course, these claims are as spurious as those claiming to know the exact spot Krishna narrated the Bhagavad Gita, the tree that gave shade to Muhammad on his way to Damascus, or some other fantastic tale. Yet these things are not governed by reason but by faith.

In the basement of the church is the grotto in which Jesus was born and the manger in which the newborn was waddled. The exact spot is marked by a 14-pointed steel star with a hole in the centre and pilgrims come to kneel before the spot and touch or kiss the star.

Although the Church of the Nativity was built only in 327, the site had spiritual significance even earlier. A temple to Adonis is supposed to have stood on the same spot, and Christians claim that Hadrian had it built to erase the memory of Jesus while some scholars argue that it was the Christians who took over an ancient pagan shrine as they did in hundreds of other places. The church was rebuilt in 565 and was spared destruction when the Sassanids conquered Bethlehem because General Shahrbaraz was impressed by the depiction of the Magi, the three wise men from the East (who all seem to always wear Persian robes). The damage to the church today is from age, earthquakes over the years, and the desecration at the hands of the Turks in 1244. It has also seen renovation efforts at the hands of Crusaders and later Europeans but it has clearly not been enough.

Even from its restoration under Justinian, the church is 1,500 years old and has massive arches that would make any Gothic architect proud. However, the mosaic from the first church built by the Emperor-Mother, Helena, is still preserved and easily visible. I did not find the church particularly beautiful but that may have been because much needed renovations were going on and there was a massive crowd around the grotto and manger. However, I did notice that three sects that share the church – Catholics, Greek Orthodox, and Armenian Orthodox – and got to listen to one of their liturgies. I must admit that the sambrani – benzoin/frankincense – smell during the Orthodox service was quite pleasing and calming 🙂.

Back in Jerusalem, I headed down to Jaffa Gate to witness and maybe partake in the celebrations commemorating the reunification of Jerusalem. The trams were closed to create a pedestrian zone in the area, and so I had to schlepp in a good 30 minutes. This actually turned out to be a good thing because I was able to watch the ebb and flow and delirious Israelis all waving the national flag walking around, singing, and dancing all the way from the head office of the Jerusalem Post all the past Safra Square and down to Jaffa Gate and beyond. We stopped occasionally to watch and join groups of Orthodox Jews dancing like crazy, in one case, on top of a van!

Safra Square, the site where Edmund Allenby took the keys of Jerusalem from its mayor, Hussein Salim al-Husseini, on December 11, 1917, after dismounting from his horse at Jaffa Gate and entering the city on foot, itself was oddly deserted after a concert had ended surprisingly early by 18 00. I walked around aimlessly, enjoying the festive air and the unusual friendliness of the locals until a light & sound show started on the Old City Walls. Predictably, it told the history of the recapture of Jerusalem in 1967 and then had a short speech by Mayor Nir Barkat on how much the city has developed. Interspersed were a few patriotic songs.

I later found out that the programming committee for the evening’s official celebrations had creating a small controversy in their slogan of sorts for the 50th anniversary. There were objections to the use of the word, “liberation” in referring to the Israeli conquest of East Jerusalem in 1967. It was only after the mayor put his foot down that the phrase, “50th anniversary of the liberation of Jerusalem” went to the printers.

A little earlier, I had mentioned the unusual friendliness of the locals. Customarily, Israelis (more broadly, Jews born in the Holy Land) like to compare themselves to the sabra, a local variety of cactus. The plant is prickly on the outside that protects a sweet and delicate interior. Israelis can make an art form out of being abrasive and obnoxious but they are just as often sweet, hospitable, generous, and go out of their way to help friends. Of course, the joke runs that you sometimes have to truly turn a person inside out to see the good in him!

I think one thing we did wrong not just in Jerusalem but throughout the trip was eat at middle-of-the-road restaurants. The problem with this is that you get good quality food but catering to an international crowd. Of course, Israelis down grilled chicken, fish, hummus, and falafel as well as anyone else in the Middle East but where was my kibbeh, fried haloumi, and sabbich?! I would strongly urge visitors to Israel to try the hole-in-the-wall type of eateries that one can find in any city around the world. Sure, you may have had hummus and shawarma many times and all over the world but the variations on Israel’s streets are worth trying. After all, after politics, probably nothing animates Israelis as much as what the perfect hummus is!

Despite all the fun I had, I must admit that Jerusalem does not know how to set up a good ghalyoon! There were some nice lounges in Haifa but Jerusalem was surprisingly bad. It had to do primarily with the coal they used – while Haifa used regular coals, most cafes in Jerusalem seemed to have opted for the chemical bricks that contaminate the mu’assal bowl and give off a terrible taste. I was also shocked to discover that they had only one flavour available – double apple. Luckily, that happens to be my regular choice in mixes or as a single but I would have liked the option of playing with mixes. Perhaps I just went to the bad part of town but all the ghalyoon lounges I saw by Jaffa Gate seemed to operate similarly.

We started the next day with a visit to the Temple Mount. Also known as the Haram al Sharif, there was a long line at the entrance due to security procedures. Once through, we first went to the Dome of the Rock and the Al Aqsa mosque. Built by the fifth Umayyad caliph, Abd al Malik ibn Marwan in 637, the mosque was built on the ruins of a Byzantine church that had stood where the Jewish Temple had once stood. Al Muqaddasi, the 10th century Arab geographer, wrote that the dome alone cost seven times the revenue of Egypt to build; the mosque was deliberately built in so lavish a style to compete with the grand cathedrals and churches built by Europeans in the Holy Land. It was, in essence, a public relations battle for the hearts and minds of the people.

The Dome of the Rock is also known as the Qubbat al Sahkra and on its esplanade can be found several other structures that were the embellishments of later rulers. The Qubbat al Silsilah, or Dome of the Chain, for example, is actually the oldest structure on the esplanade and it is the spot where Judgment Day is prophesied to occur. Arched gateways mark points of ingress and egress but stand out as Roman rather than Islamic. The varying column colours suggest that much of the building material for the Dome of the Rock and its environs was stolen from Greco-Roman ruins in the area.

When the Sassanids captured Jerusalem in 610, they handed the Temple Mount over to the Jews who promptly proceeded to build a temple. However, the Christian reconquest turned the tables on them and the incomplete construction was immediately demolished. This was perhaps the last time until the Mandate that Jews fought to take the Temple Mount and Jerusalem.

The dispute over the site today, much simplified, boils down to the belief of some Jews that the Dome of the Rock stands on the site of the Second Temple. Unlike any regular synagogue, the Temple was where Jews could perform sacrifices. More importantly, it was the spot that was believed to be the home of the Shekinah, the dwelling of the divine presence of G-d. The situation amusingly lends itself to the Jewish people echoing the Hindu cries of मंदिर वहीं बनेगा 🙂. In any case, this is the reason why many Orthodox rabbis prohibit Jews from entering the area lest they walk into the divine presence.

Today, non-Muslims are not allowed to enter the third-holiest mosque in Islam. That was not the case until the outbreak of the Second Intifada in 2000 and if you have friends who went before then, be sure to ask them to show you the photos of the interior – it is truly spectacular, much like the Sultan Ahmad Mosque in Istanbul…even better.

As we walked to the Kotel, we passed by the Sha’ar HaRachamim whence the messiah is supposed to enter the Temple Mount at the end time. This gate was walled up by the Muslims and a cemetery created just outside to prevent the Christian and Jewish prophecies from coming true. Since cemeteries are considered ritually impure in Judaism, the Messiah would not be able to cross through the gate unsullied. Of course, one wonders if such obstacles mean anything to someone who is supposed to be a messiah, but that is another discussion!

Just outside the Gate of Mercy could be seen the pleasing golden onion domes of the late 19th century Russian Orthodox Church of St Mary Magdalene.

To access the Wailing Wall, we had to walk through the Muslim Quarter past Ariel Sharon’s house and partly along the Via Dolorosa. Sharon’s house in the Muslim Quarter, with its huge menorah and Israeli flags was seen by many as a provocation to Israel’s Arabs and as a message by others: This is the Jewish State of Israel. The failure of politicians to deliver peace for so long has made the squabbles between Israelis and Palestinians intellectually little higher than playground tantrums but with deadly tanks and helicopter gunships thrown int the mix.

The Wall. When we finally broke into the courtyard, the sense of history was palpable. Centuries of exile, decades of conflict, and the volatile emotions of a people become half-crazed washed over me. Like the soldiers of 28 Iyar, I solemnly went to the Wall and touched 2,500 years of History.

It need not be stressed that attire should be conservative when you visit any house of worship, be it a temple, church, or mosque. In most places, that means keeping your knees and shoulders covered. Some places have culture-specific restrictions. For example, at the Padmanabhaswamy Temple in Thiruvananthapuram, men had to wear a mundu. Women, unfortunately, have extra restrictions at some shrines. Usually, this means covering your arms completely as well as legs and covering your head. At the Western Wall, a large basket of kippot was kept for anyone (men) who had forgotten their kippah at home or for Gentiles who did not have one at all. It is the custom to approach the wall after covering your head with one.

It is not uncommon for local Arab youths to harass Jewish pilgrims sometimes, especially if it is a special occasion like a bar mitzvah or a mourning. The special attire or chanting for such events gives the pilgrims away and altercations are not as rare as one might like. There are always security guards available to escort such groups to and from the Wall to reduce the chances of a conflagration.

After the Wall, we went to the last place on our list for Jerusalem – the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Standing on the spot a temple to Aphrodite used to be, this church commemorates the death and resurrection of Jesus as the Church of the Nativity celebrated his birth. The building as it stands today was built in 1048 though the original had also been built by Constantine and his mother Helena. That structure was damaged by fire in 614 during the Byzantine Empire’s war with the Sassanid Empire but the church was razed to the ground on the orders of the Fatimid caliph Al Hakim bi-Amr Allah in 1009 as part of a general campaign against Christian places of worship in Palestine and Egypt. Oddly, Christian monks in France managed to hold the Jews responsible and expel them for several French towns and cities. This experience also shaped Vatican policy in the Crusades and the First Crusade was fought partly to rescue Christian holy places from the hands of the Muslims.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre feels like a bewildering maze, with several shrines within. There is the Greek Orthodox Golgotha Altar, the Stone of Anointing, the Aedicule in the Rotunda, and several smaller chapels and courtyards for the Greek, Syriac, Armenian, and Ethiopian Orthodox sects. While I strolled through the whole church, I did so without a guide and did not get much out of the experience except for photographs. I would strongly recommend a guide and two to three hours to see the church properly.

I spent some time at the Golgotha Altar, where Jesus is supposed to have been crucified. This is, in true Orthodox style, a most lavishly decorated section and beneath the altar is a hole where the cross was said to have been raised. On both sides of the altar is visible the Rock of Calvary, the 12th station of the Cross. This, along with the Aedicule, are the two most visited sections of the church. The Catholics have a chapel to the side, the Chapel of the Nailing of the Cross, but it is easy to walk by without noticing it before the pomp and grandeur of the Greek Orthodox display.

As soon as you enter the church is the Stone of Anointing, where Joseph of Arimathea is supposed to have prepared Jesus’ body for burial. Pilgrims rub the stone as if to take back with them some of the divinity of Jesus but the only problem with this is that the story of Jesus anointing appears only in the mid-13th century and the stone was placed there only during the restoration work in 1810.

Behind the Stone is a wall with a beautiful fresco showing the anointment and marked with the insignia of the Brotherhood of the Holy Sepulchre, one of the many Eastern Orthodox monastic fraternities that have guarded Christian interests in the Holy Land since Constantine.

The Aedicule is composed of two chambers, one holding the Angel’s Stone that sealed Jesus’ tomb and one for the tomb itself. There is usually a massive line in the rotunda as pilgrims wait in line for an opportunity to touch the stone and tourists to take photographs.

Our last stop for the day and in Israel was the Dead Sea. As everyone knows, the water body is about 430 metres below sea level and ten time saltier than the ocean, making it possible to float on the water without any effort. The hypersaline endorheic lake is about 50 kms long and nine kms wide at its extreme points and is fed by the Jordan River. The high salt content ensures that there is no flora or fauna in the lake, thus earning its name. Contrary to popular belief, the Dead Sea is not the saltiest water body in the world – that honour goes to Don Juan Pond in Antarctica, whose salinity is so high that it remains liquid even in -50°C temperatures. Due to massive diversion of water from the River Jordan, the water levels in the Dead Sea are dropping by about a metre per year and is causing environmental concern.

I suppose it is possible to just walk up to the Dead Sea and take a dip but we went to a small resort on its coast meant to cater to tourists like us. It is possible to rent towels for a small fee and there is access to showers and soap at the facility, something you will very much want to avail of to get rid of all the salt. Women – or anyone with long hair, I suppose – are advised to wear shower caps and keep the salt out of their hair or there will be plenty of time spent scrubbing in the showers. In fact, it is advised to keep the salt water out of everything – mouth, nose, and eyes – for it stings like anything and tastes awful. This, I say with experience. Goggles might be a good bet as would some sort of rubber slippers – there are plenty of rocks underneath the water and it is not difficult to cut yourself on them, another unpleasant experience in the briny water! If you want to swim in a bit, do it gently on your back.

Masada is not far from the southern tip of the Dead Sea. From Ein Gedi, it is barely 20 kms but we were near Kalya Beach, about 60 kms away. It is an important landmark in Jewish resistance to Rome and the events have cast a shadow on to Israel’s sense of its history to this day. Herod’s fortress is the site of the Israeli Defence Forces graduation ceremony, where they climb up a steep cliff at night with torches and swear an oath at the peak as dawn breaks that Masada shall not fall again. Masada is not a place you should miss on a visit to Israel but because of a snafu with the airline and the wise team that put together the itinerary, it was logistically impossible to accommodate the desert hill fortress in our trip. A real shame.

Like Jordan, there is public transport in Israel but you might be better advised to rent a car and drive or take day tours from wherever you are staying. To get to Masada from Jerusalem by bus, for example, meant that I would have had to spend a good five or six hours at the site. Even for the most ardent history buff, three hours ought to be enough on a first visit. You would still have a lot of time left over even if you hiked your way to the top. Of course, if you intend to spend most of your time in Israel in cities, public transport should be easier within cities and between Jerusalem – Tel Aviv – Haifa. The problem starts when you want to visit places a bit off the beaten path for locals, like Yardenit, Hula Valley, or Beit She’an.

As I always remind myself, a good tourist makes peace with not being able to get to everything he wants on a trip. Some countries simply need a a length of time more than can be accommodated by normative employment conditions or budgets. Our itinerary was fairly packed and we did not dawdle anywhere; this was a good trip. It was made even better by the refreshing honesty our guide in Israel exhibited. I was seated right by her on the bus and maintained a steady barrage of questions on Israeli politics with a view to understanding how and why Israel got to where it was on several fronts. Unlike most guides who sugar coat the less flattering aspects of their country to outsiders, we were given an unvarnished view of the corruption, pettiness, and occasional futility of Israeli politics.

In many ways, Israel is not that dissimilar from India. Some of its institutional bottlenecks and the inability to resolve the issues or reform the system suggests that the Jewish state has grown out of its founding ideologies. Perhaps they provided the vital anchor prior to 1948 but it is a new Jewish existence now with different problems. Unfortunately, entrenched interests make it an uphill battle to push through changes everyone knows are better for the long term even if they pinch a little in the short run.

One thing India can learn from Israel – or Jordan – is how to promote and grow tourism. At the still functioning venues that we visited, like churches, there were tour groups with guides speaking several languages; all the historical sites had audio guides available in multiple languages as well as tour guides. Since all guides must be licensed, it was obvious that these were trained Israelis with linguistic skills. In comparison, tourist destinations in India like Dholavira are abandoned, which one ends up preferring when we see imbecile tourists clamber on top of the ancient statues at Mahabalipuram, Ellora, or Khajuraho. Audio guides are non-existent, maintenance is abysmal, and tour guides usually have such a thick accent that the Lonely Planet guidebooks are your best friend!

I must also comment on an interesting aspect of the group I was with for the twelve days of this trip. It is no secret that the Indian government has tilted towards Palestine and the Arabs ever since independence. Many Indians, too busy with the struggles of daily life in newly independent and quasi-socialist India, uncritically accepted the government’s position on the Middle East as it was of no direct concern to them. Over the years, however, this support has wavered as the Middle East was seen to do little to curb Pakistan’s religious fanaticism towards India. During my trip, several members of my cohort were forever ready to use euphemisms to describe Israeli policies or rationalise them away, sometimes even more than our guide was! Although a few people can hardly be said to make a trend, this sort of opinion was unthinkable even a few years ago. By and large, more and more Indians are beginning to feel warmly for the Jewish state.

This trip was, admittedly, slightly on the shorter side for me. I have found that touristic sweet spot to be between 14 and 16 days for me – anything shorter and I am left yearning for more and anything longer leave me mentally supersaturated. Additionally, having grown up in the Middle East, this trip felt a lot like returning home. I was surprised I still remembered enough Arabic to get around and that made the Jordanian part of my trip much easier though my lack of Hebrew made Israel quite sabra-esque!

With the experiences and information gathered on this first reconnoitering mission, I can put together an itinerary for my second trip to the Holy Land within minutes. The difficulty is only in finding the means to actualise it!

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Wandering Around Tamil Country

01 Mon Feb 2016

Posted by Jaideep A. Prabhu in Society, Travelogue

≈ Comments Off on Wandering Around Tamil Country

Tags

acharya, Airavateshwara Temple, ananda tandava, bael, Bauddhayana, bhikshatana, brahman, brihad lingam, Brihadeeshwara Temple, Cauvery, Chandramaulishwara, Chidambara Rahasyam, Chidambaram, Chidambaram Mahatmyam, Chittrambalam, Chola, Coleroon, Dakshinamurthy, Darasuram, darshan, Darubanna, Divakaram, Divya Desam, Ganga, gopura, Hoysala, Hyder Ali, Ibn Battuta, India, jambu lingam, Kakatiya, Kampaheshwara Temple, Kampaheswarar Temple, karana, Keezh Ambalam, Krishnappa Nayak, Kulothunga II, Kulothunga III, Kumbakonam, lingam, Mahishasuramardini, Malik Kafur, Mohini, Muhammad bin Tughlaq, Muyalaka, Nataraja, Natya Shastra, Nayaka, Nayanar, nishkala thirumeni, Orlov diamond, Paadal Petra Sthalam, Palaiyarai, Pallava, pancha bootha, pancha sabhai, Pandya, Patanjali, prakara, Rajaraja Chola, Rajarajapuram, Rajendra Chola, Ramanuja, sakala thirumeni, sakala-nishkala thirumeni, Shaiva, Shiva, Shivacharya, Shwetavarman, Sri Ranganatha Swamy Temple, Srirangam, swayambhu kshetra, Tamil Nadu, tandava, Tanjan, Tevaram, thaanana thirumeni, Thanjavur, Thetri Ambalam, Thillai Nataraja Temple, tilak, Tipu Sultan, Tiruchitrakoodam, travelogue, Tribhuvanam, tripundra, Ulugh Khan, UNESCO, Vaishnava, Vengi, vibhuti, Vijayanagara, vimana, vishishtadvaita, Vishnu, Vishnudurga, Vyagrapada, World Heritage Site, yantra

Of late, wandering around Tamil Nadu seems to have become a hobby of mine. And who can blame me – with a rich heritage and dozens of stunning temples, it would take months to even cursorily pass by just the major sites. Some time around the Gregorian New Year, I had felt the call of Thillai Koothan; with that as the primary target, I persuaded my friends into a trip into Tamil country.

TripChidambaram is a small and rather unimpressive town with a population of about 60,000 not more than 15 kms inland from the Coromandel coast. It is about 235 kms south of Madras, the state capital, and connected by road as well as by rail. Though Tamil Nadu generally has fairly good albeit narrow roads, the roads on the approach to Chidambaram are quite rough. Anyone planning to drive in should factor in at least an extra hour to hour and half for the last 40 kms or so. The nearest airport, for those coming in from afar, is Tiruchirappalli, about 150 kms away; this, however, does not spare you from the last stretch of bumpy roads unless rail is availed.

Historically, Chidambaram has gone through three names – its ancient name was Thillai, after the mangrove trees of the Excoecaria Agallocha species that grow in the area. The second name, Puliyur or Perumpatrapuliyur, has mythical origins: it is said to derive from Vyagrapada, one of the two saints – the other was Patanjali – who came to Thillai to witness Shiva’s cosmic dance and to pray to him on the banks of a nearby lotus pond. Puliyur means ‘tiger town,’ after the saint whose name meant ‘tiger-footed.’ The third name and by which we know the town today, Chidambaram, means ‘ocean of consciousness.’ Chit means consciousness in Sanskrit and ambaram means ether. However, the scholarly consensus does not accept such a simple translation. It is argued – with some justification – that Chidambaram is a Sanskritised version of the Tamil name, Chittrambalam, which means the ambalam (or stage) placed at a lower pedestal (Keezh Ambalam). The ancient Tamil lexicon, Divakaram, defines Tiruchitrakoodam (the Vishnu Shrine within the temple complex) as Thetri Ambalam. Tamil scholars opine that this refers to the Vishnu shrine being present at a higher pedestal (Maettu Ambalam), while the Nataraja shrine was called the chittrambalam (the Keezh Ambalam).

Chidambaram, if not ancient, is still an old town. The first mention of a settlement in the vicinity is found in the 7th century collection of devotional poems to Shiva, the Tevaram, by the Nayanars: Appar and Sambandar identify the cult of a local dancing god in Chidambalam to Shiva. The nearby goddess cult of Perambalam was also subsumed into the legend of Chidambaram and cemented in the 12th century work, the Chidambaram Mahatmyam.

ChidambaramThillai Nataraja Temple has five sabhas and at least nine kalyanis. At the centre of the temple is the chit sabha with its golden dome, where Nataraja is depicted performing the ananda tandava. In the ardha mandapam of this shrine are shown Vyagrapada and Patanjali, and a sanctum is also present for Shiva’s consort, Parvati. As is the case with most South Indian temples, every minute detail of a temple, from the number of pillars to the depiction of the primary idol, has meaning. The ananda tandava is one of the many forms of Shiva’s cosmic dance, its main disposition in this instance, as the name suggests, being joy. Hindu myths say that Shiva was wandering around a forest called Daruvanna as a bhikshatana with Vishnu as Mohini. The rishis were enamoured by Mohini while their wives became love-sick for the bhikshatana. When the rishis realised what had happened, they were furious and they sent a tiger from their sacrificial fire against the bhikshatana. Shiva just laughed and killed the tiger, tearing off its skin to use as a makeshift sarong. Enraged, the rishis sent poisonous snakes against the man who had enchanted their wives. Again, Shiva just calmly took the snakes and wrapped them around his arms and waist as ornaments. Next, the rishis use black magic to create a fierce dwarf, Muyalaka, and order him to slay Shiva. However, he is dispatched without much effort too. Finally, the rishis send their sacrificial fire itself to burn the intruder. Shiva calmly takes the flame upon his left hand and begins to dance atop the slain demon-dwarf with a smile upon his face. Realising their folly, the sages fell to the floor before Shiva. This is why the Nataraja in the temple is shown performing the ananda tandava.

It is not clear when the temple was originally built; all we have now are records of renovations and expansions by later emperors of the Pallava, Chola, Vijaynagara, and Nayaka dynasties which still puts the temple at around 800 years old. However, it is believed that the temple was first built by King Shwetavarman in the 6th century when he was cured of leprosy by bathing in one of the ponds in the Thillai vanam. Today, that pond is the Shivaganga kalyani.

Chidambaram doorway karanasFrom a distance, the Thillai Nataraja Temple’s four gopura are the most visible sights, of course. They are all later additions to the temple and scholars date them to the 12th century at the earliest. The first thing one sees upon entering the temple is the exquisite miniature sculptures of the 108 karanas in the Natya shastra. These adorn all the entrances to the temple and cannot be missed. Such numerous depictions are found only in five of Tamil Nadu’s temples that I can recall. It is only appropriate that Chidambaram be one of those temples for all dance is supposed to have originated from Shiva’s tandava and the Thillai Nataraja Temple is one of the most important Shiva temples that carries a prominent depiction of Nataraja. However, it is not Shiva but a woman, accompanied by two musicians, who performs the karanas on Chidambaram’s gateways.

Directly in front of the chit sabha is the Kanaka sabha where most of the daily rituals are conducted. The Nritta sabha is in the form of a chariot and said to commemorate Shiva’s victory over the three aerial cities of Tripura. The wheels of the sabha are the sun and the moon, the car of the chariot is Prithvi, Brahma took on the role of the charioteer, Mount Meru is the bow, Vasuki the bowstring, and Vishnu the arrow released by Shiva to destroy Tripura. According to lore, Shiva defeated the goddess Kali in a dance competition in this sabha. after a fierce duel with a powerful demon, Kali could not calm down. Shiva challenged her to a dance to direct her energy and while dancing, performed the urdhva tandava. This reminded the warrior goddess of her true form, the peaceful Parvati, and she took control over herself. The Deva sabha is generally closed to the public though it may have once been used as an audience hall for visiting kings. The Raja sabha is a thousand-pillared hall that is actually ten short of reaching four digits; it is probably among the later additions and is used only during the rathotsava where Shiva and his consort, Shivakamasundari, are worshipped.

After the staggering beauty of the temples at Madurai, Tirunelveli, Thirukkurungudi, or even the temples of Kanchipuram, the Thillai Nataraja Temple of Chidambaram was slightly disappointing. The temple complex still sits over 40 acres but the scale of the temple is smaller and it lacks the exquisite figurines, musical pillars, and other features we take for granted in major Tamil temples. Yet what the temple lacks in imperial grandeur is compensated for in the beauty of the idol of the main deity, the Nataraja form of Shiva.

Chidambaram Nataraja frescoNataraja faces south at Chidambaram. This is not done for any deity except Shiva since the south is considered inauspicious because the cardinal point is the abode of Yama, the god presiding over death. Shiva faces south to signify his conquest over Death. While the Nataraja is sakala thirumeni (manifest deity) of the temple, right in front of him is the sakala-nishkala thirumeni (aniconic) form in the shape of a spatika (crystal) lingam. It is believed to be a fragment of Chandramaulishwara, the crescent that adorns Shiva’s head, and installed in the temple by Adi Shankaracharya. In the same shrine, next to the Nataraja is the nishkala thirumeni, the formless ether, symbolised by an empty chamber whose entrance is covered by a red-and-black curtain with a yantra on it. Behind the curtain is a string of 51 golden Aegle marmelos leaves, more commonly known as bael. The curtain is parted slightly at each puja – there are six per day – so that devotees may glance at the formless lingam through a latticed window. This is the Chidambara rahasyam, or the secret of Chidambaram.

The temple at Chidambaram is one of the pancha bhootha sthala, one of the five Shiva temples each of which has a lingam manifested in one of the different prime elements of nature; Chidambaram holds the akasha lingam. Finding a mention in the Tevaram, the temple is a paadal petra sthalam. The Thillai Nataraja Temple is also one of the pancha sabhai, one of the five temples where Shiva is said to have performed his cosmic dance. Each of these temples have at least an ambalam or sabhai that holds a Nataraja but Chidambaram is the only temple in the world that has Nataraja as the primary deity. Chidambaram’s ambalam is known as pon-ambalam (gold hall). Yet another specialty of the temple is is that it is one of the aadhara sthala, the physical manifestation of Tantric chakras associated with human anatomy, and Chidambaram represents the ajna chakra. Little wonder, then, that Chidambaram has not developed into a tourist spot and pilgrims are left to themselves…though not in peace for the crowds are truly Indian in size and nature! Furthermore, only Hindus are allowed into the temple. Photography is not allowed within temple premises.

Chidambaram MahishasuramardiniInterestingly, the Thillai Nataraja Temple also contains a shrine for Vishnu and is one of the 108 divyadesams. It is difficult not to chuckle at occurrences such as this given the animosity between the Shaivites and Vaishnavites. Ekambareshwar Temple in Kanchipuram is also such a dual shrine where the Vishnu shrine has been placed such that worshippers cannot avoid a pradakshina around the primary Shiva lingam to get to it. Govindaraja Swamy, as Vishnu is called at the Chidambaram temple, has his shrine right in front of the chit sabha and is reclining on Ananta with his feet towards Nataraja; the shrine is also higher than the chit sabha. There have been many disputes between the Vaishnavite priests and the Dikshitars, the priests officiating over the rituals for Shiva, some of which have even gone to court. Apparently, the shrine was moved outside the temple premises during the reign of Kulothunga II in the early to mid 12th century but was returned to its present location by Krishnappa Nayak in the mid-1500s.

The Dikshitars are a group of Shaiva brahmins who follow Vedic rituals to worship Shiva and not agamic practices like the Shivacharya brahmins. Their rituals are apparently based on the works of both Bauddhayana and Patanjali. Legend has it that the Dikshitars were brought from Kailasa to Thillai by Patanjali for the specific purpose of maintaining the Chidambaram temple. Once, Brahma requested 3,000 Dikshitar priests to perform a Vedic ritual at his abode. When they were done, they returned to earth but to their dismay, found that one had gone missing. At this point, a voice from the chit sabha called out that Nataraja himself was the last of the Dikshitars. Today, they are about 360 in number.

The temple opens at six o’clock in the morning and remains open until noon when it closes for a siesta. It reopens at 5:00 PM and closes at 10:00 PM. It is best to get to the temple as it opens and catch the first puja around 7:00 AM when the priest goes to the Palliyarai to bring the deity to the sanctum sanctorum. During the second puja, a ruby Nataraja is also anointed and the burning of camphor before and behind the idol accentuates its translucence. The last puja of the day, the arthajaamam, starts around 9:00 PM and is conducted with greater fervour for the belief is that all the deities of the temple gather around the chit sabha and the divine forces are concentrated in the Nataraja before he retires.

The religious importance of Chidambaram made it a very attractive target for invaders. The Thillai Nataraja Temple was brutally ransacked by the forces of Malik Kafur in the early 14th century and desecrated again by the British, French, and the Islamic rulers of Mysore who used the temple premises as barracks and the prakara as fortifications.

Hotels should not be difficult to find in Chidambaram unless you show up during a festival. There are only a few hotels in town given the small population but they are mostly decent and there should be no trouble in securing basic amenities such as clean sheets, hot water, and air conditioning. Tamil Nadu has three seasons – hot, hotter, and hottest – and the best time to visit for tourists is December or January. Be warned, though, that the sun can be quite sharp even in those months.

We had gone to the Thillai Nataraja Temple at the crack of dawn but were done only by late morning. After a quick breakfast, we pushed on to Darasuram, about 75 kms southeast of Chidambaram. No more than a large village of about 13,000 people, Darasuram is famous primarily for its famous Airavateshwara Temple. Despite being added to the list of UNESCO Heritage Sites in 2004, the temple remains off the beaten track for most tourists. Airavateshwara Temple is one of the four great imperial Chola temples, albeit the smallest of them.

DarasuramWe chose to visit Darasuram after Chidambaram because the Airavateshwara Temple, unlike others on our itinerary, was not a functioning temple. Sure, there is an aarti at certain times of the day but there were no rituals performed at the temple that would mark this temple as functional. Largely, this meant that it would remain open in the afternoon for us to visit.

Airavateshwara Temple was built by Raja Kambeera Mamannan, also known as Rajaraja Chola II, in the mid-12th century when he moved his capital from Gangaikondacholapuram to Palaiyarai, renaming the town Rajarajapuram. Over time, the name evolved to its present form. The temple was also called Rajarajeshwara but had been renamed by the 15th century. Dedicated to Shiva, the deity here is known as Airavateshwara because of a legend that tells how Airavata, the chief among Indra’s elephants, was granted relief from Durvasa’s curse: the poor thing had lost its white colour and was restored to its former beauty by bathing in the sacred waters of this temple. Similarly, Yama also bathed in the waters of the Airavateshwara Temple to escape from a rishi‘s curse that caused a burning sensation all over his body.

NandiAiravateshwara Temple is a small structure by any stretch of imagination. Its vimana rises barely 85 feet and the entire complex can be contained in a couple of acres. The main mantapa does not even have a circumambulatory path. Nonetheless, Airavateshwara Temple is one of the most exquisite temples for my money. It contains dozens of spectacular and intricate sculptures, some betraying Pala influence as well. Of particular note are the Vishnudurga, Dakshinamurthy, and Ganga figurines. There is also a panel of miniatures depicting the lives of the 63 Nayanars in great detail. There is a clear theme to all the engravings and miniature sculptures in the temple – music and dance. The temple has three main mantapas, the mukha mantapa depicted as a chariot with wheels and stone horses, the maha mantapa, and the ardha mantapa. Shiva’s consort at this temple is known as Periya Nayaki Amman which was probably part of the temple but now stands alone as a detached temple. Outside the eastern entrance is a large Nandi, behind which are a set of musical stone steps; these steps have now been sealed off in a metal grill to protect them from local children.

The temple at Darasuram was never a focal point of religious practice or debate as Chidambaram was but royal patronage ensured it remained active. As the other Great Chola temples attest, it had become common practice to build royal shrines. While it may be a stretch to say that the Chola emperors sought to elevate themselves and their ancestors to quasi-divine status, the builder’s mark on these temples is unmistakeable. The four Great Chola temples are probably the only ones in which the central vimana towers over the gopura.

Chariot mantapa, DarasuramTo escape the Tamil Nadu sun – yes, even in January! – we found a nice shady and windy spot in the prakara of the Airavateshwara Temple for a short snooze. After all, that was one of the purposes of the colonnaded halls! It is incredible how cool the corridors were, with plenty of shade and wind tunnels. In fact, I have half a mind to go around Tamil Nadu taking an afternoon nap in all the major temples…I should probably get an extra thread for this achievement 😀 We left Darasuram for Tribhuvanam around 4:00 PM after the aarti.

The treasures of Airavateshwara Temple, Darasuram

Prakaram at Darasuram Gajasthamba, Darasuram Yali at foot of pillar, Darasuram
Dakshinamurthy, Darasuram Bas relief on pillars Vishnudurga, Darasuram
Ganga, Darasuram Lingodbhava, Darasuram Virabhadra, Darasuram

Tribhuvanam is about eight kilometres from Kumbakonam and is the site of the Kampaheshwara Temple, built by Kulothunga Chola III in the late 12th century. Also one of the Great Chola temples, it is the newest of the four with its vimana rising to about 120 feet. The main mantapa is built like a chariot with events from the Ramayana decorating the temple walls. A rare appearance of Sarabeshwarar, the lion-man-eagle rupa Shiva took to pacify Narasimha, can also be found at the Kampaheshwara Temple. Legend has it that Shiva cured the kampa (quaking – epilepsy?) of a king who was haunted by a brahmarakshasa because he had accidentally killed a brahmin. The more prosaic reason, however, is that the temple was built to commemorate Kulothunga Chola III’s military victories against the Hoysalas, Vengi, and probably the Kakatiyas.

We reached the temple as it opened for the evening and there was not too big a crowd. Oddly, there were even fewer tourists present than at Darasuram; I suppose with Thanjavur so close by, it would take only a real South India aficionado to discover the smaller Chola temples. As a functioning institution, Kampaheshwara Temple follows strict hours and closes in the afternoon – tourists would be well advised to plan accordingly. With the sightseeing at Tribhuvanam done, we called it a day and headed to Thanjavur for the night. Good accommodation is available much closer in Kumbakonam but it made more sense with our itinerary to get closer to our next morning’s destination.

Entrance to BrihadeshwaraThere is no mention of Thanjavur in the records until the 4th century. The name is thought to have been derived from an asura by the name of Tanjan who was killed by Neelamegha Perumal, a local deity considered an avatara of Vishnu. Another theory is that the original name was Thanseioor, meaning something to the effect of ‘rice paddy between rivers,’ no doubt indicating the settlement’s position in the Cauvery delta and its chief crop. Thanjavur, simplified to Tanjore by the British, has been an important city since about the 9th century. It has been ruled by several Hindu dynasties and was even the capital of the Chola empire for about 150 years towards the end of the first millennium. About 340 kms from Madras by road and 60 kms from Tiruchirapalli Airport, Thanjavur is well connect by road, rail, and air.

Gateway, BrihadeshwaraThe Brihadeshwara Temple of Thanjavur is one of the most famous temples of Tamil Nadu. Completed in 1010 by Emperor Arulmozhivarman, commonly known as Rajaraja Chola I and arguably the greatest of the Chola emperors, it is the oldest of the great Chola temples. With a soaring vimana of 216 feet, the Brihadeshwara Temple is also the largest of the Great Chola temples. Everything about the temple is grand: the kalasha at the top of the vimana is a single rock that weighs 80 tonnes, and a 20-tonne monolithic Nandi, albeit replaced by the Nayakas in the 16th century, faces a 3.7 metres tall lingam. The dwarapalakas of the garbha griha are 18 feet tall themselves. It is the first all-granite temple in India, though a facade of softer rock that was more amenable to sculpting was also created. To this day, the Brihadeshwara Temple stands as the tallest temple in India.

IMG_5817Like most big temples in India, Brihadeshwara Temple has also seen several additions by later rulers; the shrine to Shiva’s consort, Brihannayaki, was added by the Pandyas, the Subramanya shrine was constructed by the Vijayanagara rulers, and the Vinayaka shrine – truth be told, a bit of an eyesore in the midst of stone opulence – was contributed by the Marathas. The Nayakas added several paintings over the original Chola murals.

Vimana of Brihadeshwara TempleRajaraja Chola I died shortly and several unfortunate occurrences are said to have plagued the royal family. A superstition took hold that any king entering the temple through the grand main entrance – the Keralantaka Vayil – would soon lose his crown if not his life. When the Nayakas conquered Tanjore they had a 18-foot fortified wall with a 15-foot moat built around the temple. This wall enclosed the main entrance, thereby blocking it for royal or public use. Later, the Marathas, who succeeded the Nayakas, broke down the part of the wall blocking access to the main entrance and built a torana in front of the main entrance which was thrown open, once again, for public use. Rajaraja Chola’s son, Rajendra Chola, inexplicably moved the capital from Thanjavur to Gangaikondacholapuram and had a Brihadeshwara temple built there. It is one of the Great Chola temples, though not as magnificent as the original.

IMG_5823There is a lot to see at the temple, even if it is not so ornate as the one at Darasuram. The brihad-lingam, with its tripundra of vibhuti and a red tilak, looks divine. The most striking feature of the temple, however, is that the vimana is hollow. Some say that the column of air above the lingam that such a structure allows is the ‘true’ lingam, or rather that the air lingam is the manifestation of the highest brahman. Nowhere else has this been replicated and if this is a valid interpretation of Rajaraja Chola’s intent, it is a welcome metaphysical facet to the temple that is otherwise more a testament to an emperor’s ego than any spiritual inclination. Yet, to be fair, temples did not serve purely religious functions back in the day; they were active in welfare, education, and health. A royal shrine can still be important in the lives of the local population.

Nayaka painting on ceiling of Nandi mantapa, BrihadeshwaraSince we had all been to Brihadeshwara Temple before, we spent about an hour and a half there. I hesitate to venture how long others might need for it depends on how they define ‘seeing’ a temple. Some treat it as a surgical strike – darshan and out, while others like to wander, look at the sculptures, paintings, and wonder about the sthalapurana. At all the three of four Great Chola temples that we visited, there was little by way of information signposts and there were no guides save at Brihadeshwara. Tourists would have to to their homework before they come or arrange for a guide from their hotel or travel agency. For all its enormous tourist potential, India remains a primitive backwater.

Chola political influence extended into Southeast Asia and it is natural that their cultural influence would follow. The principles of many of these temples can be seen in Hindu and Buddhist shrines all over Cambodia, Indonesia, and Vietnam. Of course, the Cholas were subject to external influences as well. The Pala style is particularly visible in some of the later temples. The Palas were a Buddhist dynasty in Bengal that flourished from the 8th to the 12th centuries and Chola contacts with them, either through warfare or through trade routes, brought many Pala sculptors and architects south into Tamil Nadu in search of patronage. Perhaps the clearest indication of this flow of talent can be seen in the way some of the statues are finished – Pala artisans used a softer stone, or covered a semi-finished hard stone with softer material like terracotta, and gave a smooth, shiny appearance to their figurines. Cholas, on the other hand, finished their work in the same hard stone. This meant that the end product lacked the polish and finesse of comparable Pala work though there were just as spectacular in terms of artisanal skill that went into the creation.

The sights at Brihadeshwara Temple, Thanjavur

Gopuram at Brihadeshwara entrance Stone lizard, Brihadeshwara Long view, Brihadeshwara
Dwarapalak, Brihadeshwara Ganpathi, Brihadeshwara Bhikshatanamurthi, Brihadeshwara
Sculptures on entrance gopuram 3, Brihadeshwara Sculptures on entrance gopuram 2, Brihadeshwara Sculptures on entrance gopuram 1, Brihadeshwara
Grantha inscription, Brihadeshwara Kartikeya, Brihadeshwara Nataraja, Brihadeshwara

Our next stop was Srirangam, a small island surrounded by the Cauvery and the Coleroon. Its Sri Ranganatha Swamy Temple, one of the 108 divya desam, is not only the largest temple in India at 156 acres but the largest functioning temple in the world and among the most sacred shrines for Vaishnavas. No one really knows when the temple was first consecrated but the earliest inscriptions come from the 10th century, making it at least 1,100 years old. Tradition has it that it is one of the eight swayambhu kshetras of Vishnu. Its mention in the Tamil epic, the Silapadikaram, speaks to is further antiquity as does its inclusion by the Vaishnavite mystics, the Alwars, in their 5th-8th century poetic compositions known as the Divya Prabandham. The legend of Ranganatha Swamy is similar to that of Ravana and the Vaidyanath jyotirlinga in Deoghar, though perhaps without the sense of impending doom. In this case, Rama had given the idol of Vishnu he personally worshipped to Vibheeshana to take to Ceylon as a token of appreciation for his help in the war against Ravana, his own brother. The only condition was that the statue should be set down anywhere before its final resting spot. However, the Ceylonese king had to set the idol down on the banks of the Cauvery where the Ranganatha Swamy Temple is because of an utsav proceeding through the area. When the procession had gone by, Vibheeshana tried to lift the idol but to no avail – it had become firmly entrenched into the ground. A temple was built on the spot but over time, was lost to nature. It was rediscovered by a Chola king many years later.

Srirangam gopura from roof 2The temple has seven prakaras with 21 gopura, its perimeter being slightly over four kilometres. The gopuram on its southern wall rises to about 240 feet, making the Ranganatha Swamy Temple the tallest temple in the world. Given the sprawl of the temple premises, it is quite possible that the entire town once lived within its walls. Hundreds of inscriptions have been found on the temple walls and pillars. Together, they give historians a fairly decent picture of the social, economic, and political conditions of the time. The substantial royal patronage that flowed to Srirangam documents the growth in wealth and influence of the temple. It is worth noting that though the Cholas were Shaivites and the squabbling between the different mathas had started in their time, they continued to support all dharmic institutions within their realm.

Srirangam changed hands many times over the centuries. The Cholas, Ordras, Hoysalas, Pandyas, Vijayanagara, and the Nayakas all ruled over the city and made generous additions to the temple. However, Srirangam also felt the love of the Muslim invasions, first in 1311 and then again in 1323. The town fell under Islamic rule in 1331 and was liberated only in 1371 when Kumara Kampanna Udaiyar of the Vijayanagara Empire defeated the Muslim ruler of Madurai, Sikhandar Khan. Hindus under this Islamic rule were cruelly repressed as the chronicles of Ibn Battuta and others reveal.

Srirangam WallThe armies of Malik Kafur, Ulugh Khan, and the Madurai Sultanate stripped the temple bare; its coffers and granaries were plundered as were the ornaments of gold and precious stones. Gold was peeled off domes and pillars and golden statues, ornaments, and vessels were carried off. Some commanders used the temple premises as quarters for their soldiers and garrisoned on the island. To give some idea of the wealth Srirangam possessed, the donations of just one king – Jatavarman Sundara Pandya – should provide a glimpse. Inscriptions tell us that the king offered many tulabharas worth of gold, silver, and jewels to the temple. He is said to have covered the Ranga vimana with gold and built three additional golden domes. Jatavarman gifted garlands of pearls and emeralds, a crown of jewels, a golden ship for the Teppattirunal, golden vessels, and made several infrastructural additions to Srirangam. It is to the Vijayanagara kings and generals to whom most of the credit for restoring the temple to some semblance of its former glory goes. They donated gold, silver, jewels, and art generously, even entire villages as devadana. The Nayakas added the paintings on the walls and ceilings in the 16th century. The armies of Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan also came by Srirangam but the damage was not as severe this time. The thick walls of the temple attracted British and French forces to use the buildings as barracks as well. The temple is now under the mismanagement of the Tamil Nadu Hindu Religious & Charitable Endowments Board.

Not all of Srirangam’s wealth was lost through plunder. Some of it was simply stolen. Perhaps the most famous example of this is Orlov’s diamond, a 189.62 carat stone mined in Kollur but now owned by Russia’s Diamond Fund. Though the details are sketchy, it seems the jewel that was the tilak on Ranganatha. was stolen in 1747 by a French soldier who had pretended to be a devotee. I suppose the hostility towards non-Hindu visitors is a little clearer now. On a side note, I wonder why none of India’s nationalist rabblerousers ask Vladimir Putin for the diamond back as they heckle David Cameron for the Kohinoor.

Vijayanagara cavalry on pillar at 1000 Pillar Hall, Srirangam Vijayanagara cavalry from front at 1000 Pillar Hall, Srirangam See the details of the carving 2 - 1000 Pillar Hall, Srirangam
This is a cavalryman carved into one of the pillars of the 1,000 Pillared Hall built by the Vijayanagara kings; the same sculpture is photographed from the right, front, and left. Notice the fine details of the carving in the third picture.

When you walk into the temple, it feels like you have walked into a small town. Between the prakaras, there are entire houses, shops, food stalls, and flower vendors. There are great crowds at Srirangam, so be prepared to wait for at least an hour in the queue for darshan. There are faster queues for ₹50 and ₹250 which might suit out-of-town tourists better. On my first pass through the temple a few years ago, it took a good four or five hours to see the temple but this time, we took just three hours. Non-Hindus are allowed up to the second prakaram but no further and photography is prohibited in parts of the temple. There are several mantapas and shrines and what makes them interesting rather than repetitive is that they were added over the centuries and show different artistic influences. For example, there is a thousand-pillared hall (which is missing some 40 pillars) that was built in the Vijayanagara style with plenty of horses on their rear legs at the base of the pillars and there is the Garuda mantapa which was added by the Nayakas.

Srirangam gopura from roof 3You can purchase a ticket for ₹10 to climb up to the roof from where you can see all the gopura unhindered. Be warned, though – the roof can get pretty hot! Though the rajagopuram, the tallest of them all, was added only in 1987, the rest of the 20 gopura were built between the 14th and 17th centuries. One can only assume from other temples in the state that older gopura were pulled down by invaders in an effort to bring down the entire temple. It goes without saying that visitors should check the temple timings if they want a darshan – as a functioning temple, it closes in the afternoon and timings during festivals may vary.

Srirangam’s name is even more famous because of its association with Ramanuja, the great 11th century Vaishnavite philosopher, theologian, and leading proponent of vishishtadvaita. Ramanuja renounced his worldly life and came to Srirangam to meditate on the scriptures. Over his lifetime, he wrote several books expounding his theories, the most famous of which is the Sri Bhasya. Hymns from his Gadhya Trayam are still recited in the temple. During his time in the Ranganatha Temple, Ramanuja is said to have implemented several reforms in administration and temple affairs. His scholarship made Srirangam the epicentre of vishishtadvaita scholarship and Hindu A shrine to the acharya is found in the fourth prakaram and the thaanana thirumeni – symbolic body – is ritualistically coated with saffron and camphor every six months. In fact, a large part of the temple grounds are dedicated to the growing of saffron to be used in this ceremony. Ramanuja was the only person to be interred inside the Srirangam temple, probably owing to the belief that he was an amsha avatara of Adishesha, and his mula vigraham is constructed over his relics. I have heard some tour guides say that the Ramanuja shrine contains the actual embalmed body of the acharya and if you look closely, it is possible to see his nails. This is complete hogwash as anyone with a basic science degree can tell you – the exposure to the elements, particularly water, would have destroyed any mummy in the 800 or so years the thirumeni is supposed to be.

Bassorilievi on the pillars of the Sri Ranganatha Swamy Temple, Srirangam

Reliefs on pillars 12, Srirangam Reliefs on pillars 11, Srirangam Reliefs on pillars 9, Srirangam
Reliefs on pillars 10, Srirangam Reliefs on pillars 8, Srirangam Reliefs on pillars 7, Srirangam

Our last stop of the trip was the Jambukeshwarar Akilandeswari Temple in Thiruvanaikaval. A paadal petra sthalam and a pancha bhoota sthalam – jambu lingam – it is an important temple from a religious viewpoint and is believed to have been built by Kochenga Chola, making it approximately 1,800 years old. Unfortunately, we were out of time for this trip and we stopped by only for a darshan of Akhilandeshwari. Hindu mythology tells the story of how Parvati once mocked Shiva’s penance for the betterment of the world. Miffed, Shiva condemned his wife’s words and told her to leave Kailasa and do penance. Parvati, in the form of Akhilandeshwari, left Kailasa and came to the Jambu forest where she proceeded to make a lingam out of water from the Cauvery and meditate upon it under a Venn Naaval tree. When at last Shiva was satisfied, he appeared before Akhilandeshwari and gave her the Shiva gnana. Since she took the teachings facing east, her statue faces east in the temple and Shiva faces west. The priest conducting the midday puja to Shiva wears a sari to symbolise Akhilandeshwari praying to Shiva.

The temple is not a small one though just after Srirangam, it feels puny. Nonetheless, it has five prakaras and is said to have a rare depiction of Kartikeya with a demon under his foot. Sadly, there is little more I can tell of this temple except that it is in my list of places in Tamil Nadu to visit soon. This was a short trip, over a regular weekend rather than an extended one, and we packed in a fair amount of sightseeing even though we promise ourselves each time to set a more relaxed pace next time! I guess it is the excitement of seeing the marvellous buildings and sculptures that numbs us to our fatigue.

Most of the temples I have visited are from approximately the same period, between 800 and 1200. The last temple that we did not see was quite the lesson in its unusual statue of Kartikeya. I have an eye for the Nataraja and the Mahishasuramardini, and variations in their posture leap out to me. The variation is insignificant among Chola temples of the medieval era but when comparing temples of an earlier age or a different location, it is remarkable to see how strong Chola influence was in the arts and the gradual standardisation of deity postures. Even at Mahabalipuram, Mahishasura is shown running away from Durga rather than under her feet; at Cave XVI in Ellora, Mahishasura looked more like a man with odd martial headgear than a buffalo as he came to be represented. Skanda went atop a peacock, Mahishasura went under Durga’s foot, and the Nataraja evolved in several ways too. Perhaps these are obvious observations to those well-versed in Indian art history but to me, not even an amateur, they are profoundly interesting.

If you are truly interested in Indian art and architecture, the only way to visit South Indian temples is two or three days at a time. That should allow for about six temples; any more, in my opinion would simply result in temple fatigue, where all the sculptures begin to appear similar and the finer points are entirely missed. I realise this is not very helpful for anyone outside the four southern states of India, but that is just how it is. I remember how, on one of my 15-day trips through Spain, all the churches started to look alike after about the eighth day…and those are rather simple structures in comparison to temples like Airavateshwara. One option is to break the pattern with something completely different like Rajasthani forts, the ruins of the Indus Valley Civilisation, or scuba diving in the Andamans. However, this luxury puts tourist budgets under much stress.

The temples could have been cleaner, as I have said many times before, but travelling with friends from the region immunises you from the woes of ordinary tourists. The general impression that I got from Darasuram and Thanjavur was that a lot of work remains to be done in making these places tourist-friendly but until then, I suggest everyone find a knowledgeable Tamil friend or three – there is no better way to travel that South Indian state!

A few photographs from our Tamil walkabout:

Brihadeshwara View from the garbha gudi, Darasuram Gajasthamba at Darasuram
Relief 1, Darasuram View down one of the prakaras Relief on pillar, Darasuram
Reliefs on pillars 2, Srirangam Pillar in 100 Pillar Hall Nayaka painting in prakaram 1, Brihadeshwara
Nayaka painting in prakaram 2, Brihadeshwara Relief 2, Darasuram Smaller shrine at Brihadeshwara

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Bringing Stone To Life

18 Mon Aug 2014

Posted by Jaideep A. Prabhu in Society, Travelogue

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Ajanta, Alamgir, Andhaka, Aurangabad, Aurangzeb, Bibi ka Maqbara, bodhisattva, Brahma, Buddha, Buddhism, Charanandri, Daulatabad, dharmachakra pravartana mudra, Elapura, Ellora, Griheshwar Temple, Hinduism, India, Jainism, Jataka Tales, jyotirlingam, Kailasa, Kalachuri, Lakulisa, Mahabharata, Mahavira, Mahishasuramardini, Nataraja, Padmapani, pralambapadasana, purana, Ramayana, Rashtrakuta, Rishabha, Shiva, Shivapurana, Sravasti, tirthankara, travelogue, Vajrapani, Verul, Vishnu, Vishnupurana, World Heritage

Even in a land pockmarked with centuries-old temples and monuments, the cave paintings and sculptures at Ajanta and Ellora stand out as among India’s more renowned historical treasures – with good reason, as I found out this weekend. The two cave complexes are easily among the highest achievements of human engineering and artistry in the world, the only comparable examples, in my opinion, being Angkor Wat in Cambodia, the Longmen Grottoes in China, and the temples at Abu Simbel and Karnak in Upper Egypt.

Although Aurangabad does have an airport, it is a tiny one and not as well-connected in terms of cities or frequency of flights. However, you should certainly check it out in case what is available fits your schedule. We chose to start from Pune, the epicentre of Marathi culture and 235 kilometres to the southwest of Aurangabad. Although the two cities are connected fairly well by bus and train, we preferred the flexibility of a rented car. In India, most car rentals provide a driver with the car and one does not have to be worried about knowing the roads though that comes at the cost of losing one seat. In that sense, I suppose it is more of an extended taxi service than a car rental. Unfortunately, our driver was not familiar with Aurangabad but since we hardly deviated from the state highways, this did not cause much trouble. Be sure to check if your driver knows your destination well when you rent a car.

Our first destination was Ellora, or Elapura as it was once known. Thirty kilometres from Aurangabad, the caves open to the public at 06 00 and close at 18 00; if you have the stamina to make full use of these hours, Ellora would take two days to finish. For ordinary mortals, three days makes for better planning. This is assuming that you, the discerning tourist, would spend time getting an overall feel of the place, identify each of the sculptures, dwell on the construction techniques, and marvel at the artistic genius. Many plebeians, however, are simply interested in taking some selfies for Facebook or Twitter and make a nuisance of themselves at the site.

The Ellora cave complex has 34 caves, 17 Hindu, 12 Buddhist, and 5 Jain. Unfortunately, these are numbered consecutively rather than chronologically – Caves I – XII are Buddhist and in the south, Caves XIII – XXIX are Hindu and in the middle, and Caves XXX – XXXIV are Jain and in the north. If you are a stickler for chronology – it makes seeing the transitions and developments easier – as I am, you can expect Ellora to include a bit of a walk.

The latest historical research indicates that the earliest construction was of a few Hindu caves, followed by the Buddhist caves, a second phase of Hindu cave construction, and finally the Jain caves. These phases lasted from the early fifth century to the late tenth century and obviously, some of these phases overlapped with each other. The earliest caves were carved during the rule of the earliest Kalachuri kings and the later caves – Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain – were built during the Rashtrakuta Empire.

It is not necessary to visit all the caves – some are incomplete and where stonemasons and sculptors perfected their techniques before applying them to the main sites. Nonetheless, these caves may give you an idea about the construction techniques of the cave builders and should not be totally ignored.

Cave XVI from the edgesThe piece de resistance at Ellora is undoubtedly the imposing Kailasa Temple one sees immediately upon entering the premises. Constructed in the mid-eighth century by Krishna I, the megalith rises to over 100 feet and has a footprint of about 42,500 square feet. At these dimensions, it is the largest cave structure in India and probably the world. Technically Cave XVI, the Kailasa Temple is built in the Pallava style with tapering viharas and cloisters flanking the temple on three sides. It is estimated that some 400,000 tonnes of rock were excavated to create it. Originally, the temple was painted completely white so as to resemble Lord Shiva’s abode in the Himalayas. The temple itself has two floors and is surrounded by a three-storey gallery on three sides. The main prayer hall has a large and majestic lingam and the inseparable Nandi a few metres away while the walls are decorated with sculptures depicting events from the puranas and epics.

KailasaDensely packed with sculptures from Hindu cosmology, Kailasa alone requires the better part of a day to decipher and appreciate. The view of the temple from the front is blocked by a fortress wall but you can climb around the sides and get a view of the entire complex from the top and behind. What makes Cave XVI stand out as one of the greatest achievements of not just Hindu iconography but monument-building worldwide is that the entire structure was carved out of a single piece of rock – engineers, stonemasons, master craftsmen, and others would have had to have calculated how the temple would take shape precisely as they worked on it starting from the top and proceeding to the bottom. Given the necessity for structurally sound rock for the temple, workers could not simply hammer away the tonnes of rocks or wedge indiscriminately for fear of larger-than-desired cracks developing. The whole project had to be meticulously planned and carefully excavated, and that is why I rank this monument so highly.

MahishasuramardiniCave XIV is called Ravan ka Khai for reasons beyond me. It has a pillared hall and the walls are decorated with life-size sculptures of a dancing Shiva, Varahavtara, Shiva and Parvati playing chausar, Gajalakshmi, the saptamatrikas, Andhakasuravadha, and others. In fact, it looks as if one wall is dedicated to the Shivapurana and the other to the Vishnupurana. What I found most riveting, however, was the sculpture of Mahishasuramardini on the right as soon as you enter. Interestingly, though the common depiction of Mahishasuramardini shows Durga killing a buffalo, a couple of carvings at Cave XVI showed Mahishasura as a man wearing a horned helmet.

Cave XV is up a steep flight of stairs and another marvellous cave. It is a two-storeyed pillared hall with a Nandi mandapam in the courtyard. The Nandi statue has been displaced from the mandapam, I don’t know why, and can be seen on the first floor of the cave. What makes this cave even more interesting is that it is one of the few caves that are supposed to have inscriptions in them – the Rashtrakuta king Dantidurga is supposed to have etched out his genealogy and conquests in the stone somewhere near the Nandi mandapam. Unfortunately, we were ill-prepared and did not have flashlights and what feeble light our mobile phones gave off was not enough to spot it. The cave is called the Dasavatara cave but precious few of Lord Vishnu’s avatars are depicted in it; in fact, Cave XV is a Shiva shrine and is adorned with sculptures like the Markandeya anugraha murti, Gangadhara, Lingodhbhava Shiva and Tripurantaka.

Again, the multiple floors and courtyards of Cave XV make it easy to forget that this cave, like all others at Ellora, were carved out of the Charanandri Hills. The sculptures’ magnificence aside, that the entire complex was carved in situ makes it even more remarkable.

Dumarlena - Ravana shaking KailasaCave XXIX, also known as Dumarlena, bears a striking similarity to the Elephanta caves in Bombay. There is a large lingam in a centrally located shrine with four doorways, each guarded by two towering dwarapalaks. The walls of the spacious cave have six large panels with various depictions of Lord Shiva such as the sundarakalyanam, Nataraja, Lakulisa, Shiva and Parvati playing a game, Ravana trying to lift Kailasa, and the killing of Andhaka.

As far as I know, there is no documentary or inscriptional evidence that details the funding of the construction of Ajanta or Ellora. One can only surmise that something of this magnitude would have required royal patronage and perhaps the support of rich local merchants. While Ajanta was lost for a long time, Ellora was close to important trade routes and did not suffer the same fate. The complex continued to receive visitors over the centuries and some fo the caves were indeed used for the purpose for which they seem to have been created – prayer.

Cave 10, ElloraTo sample the next day’s pleasures, we ended the day with a visit to the Buddhist Cave X. In retrospect, I can say that it is, without doubt, the most stunning Buddhist cave at Elapura. The colonnaded chamber with its ribbed ceiling is reminiscent of pre-Carolingian churches (no transept) and has two floors. In the place of the altar is a stupa and before it sits Buddha on what can only be imagined as a throne. Buddha sits in the pralambapadasana, making what is probably a vyakhyana mudra, believed to be what is referred to in the base tongue as the teaching mudra. On the right side of the cave’s porch, there is a mini-shrine to Mahamayuri, one of the pancharakshas in Buddhism, who is seated on her peacock vahana and holding the iconic peacock feather. This simplicity is in contrast to later depictions, especially in Tibetan Buddhism, that show Mahamayuri with multiple arms laden with various symbols such as the lotus. Some of the pillars that ran down the sides of the cave all had regular holes at the same height, presumably to bear torches at night.

We simply had to sit there and take in the ambience of the place, imagining the cave in its heyday. The torches, the darker nights, the smell of oil, the monks, the chanting…it was quite enough to give some of us goose bumps. Although camphor is offered to the Buddha in Japan and Sri Lanka, I am not sure if that custom was prevalent in India twelve centuries ago.

The next day, before reaching Ellora, we stopped by the Grishneshwar Temple at Verul. I don’t know much about the temple itself except that it was renovated in the late 18th century by the Malwa queen Ahilyabai Holkar or that it has a fairly high tapering shikhara of stone in various shades of red. Grishneshwar is the last of the twelve jyotirlingas and very close to Devagiri, now known as Daulatabad, barely a kilometre or so away from Ellora. There is nothing to differentiate a jyotirlingam from any other lingam visibly; it is believed, however, that those who have achieved higher states of consciousness can see the jyotirlingam as a beam of bright light penetrating the earth and stretching upwards towards the sky.

According to Hindu mythology, Brahma and Vishnu, two of the Trinity, get into a debate about who has a better knowledge of Shiva. To test them, Shiva appeared as an endless pillar of light and asked Brahma and Vishnu to go up and down respectively until the end of the pillar. After a while, Brahma came back and lied that he had seen the top while Vishnu confessed that he could not find the bottom. Shiva was enraged with Brahma for lying and cursed him that there would be no temples to him while Vishnu would be worshipped for eternity.

As many temples in India, the approach to the temple was dirty and the temple itself not clean. Even early in the morning, there was a fairly large crowd waiting for darshan. At Grishneshwar, devotees can actually touch the lingam and offer flowers, bael patra (aegle marmelos), or do a milk abhishekam themselves. As we were standing in line waiting to be given access to the garbhagudi (sanctum sanctorum), I spotted vendors I had just passed at the entrance separating the flowers from the bael patra from a pile of discarded offerings. I suspect they recycle the flora by selling it to unsuspecting pilgrims who arrive a little later. My experience was further marred by the priest asking for dakshina even before we had started our prayers. For all the agitation Hindu groups in India do about political rights, I wish a little effort were also spent in keeping these supposedly sacred places spotless.

After our temple visit, we hit the Buddhist caves. Of the twelve Buddhist caves at Ellora, only four are significant. This is not to say that others should not be visited but only that anyone pressed to finish Ellora within two days might have to prioritise which caves they wish to spend their time in.

Cave II has over 20 sculptures of the Buddha, a few unfinished and coarse, in pralambapadasana and a couple in padmasana atop a lotus. Most of the Buddhas are flanked by bodhisattvas and are making what appears to be a dharmachakra pravartana mudra though I may be wrong on this. However, many scholars argue that this mudra is the same as the vyakhyana mudra. A little variety is available in the form on a Maitreya Buddha on the right side of the entrance to the cave and a panel depicting the miracles at Sravasti on the left upon entry. There is also a depiction of Tara, the Saraswati of Mahayana Buddhism, near the Sravasti miracles panel and Jambhala, the bodhisattva of material wealth, sits at the left end of the porch. I am told that both Jambhala and Tara come colour-coded to symbolise various virtues but my knowledge of Buddhism is not up to par to remember all those details.

Ellora, Cave 5Another Buddhist cave of interest is Cave V. It is designed as a prayer hall seen in any Buddhist monastery, with low stone benches running down its entire length in the centre and a Buddha statue at what is presumably the altar. It is about 35 metres in depth and and lined with small cells, presumably for monks to rest between chanting, prayer, and study. At the door stand the bodhisattvas Padmapani and Vajrapani.

The last Buddhist cave we visited was Cave XII. It is a massive construction, three storeys high and built like a miniature fort with a courtyard and two keep-like structures in the right and left corners that used to be connected to the main complex. The entire cave is arranged in the form of three mandalas, and someone with significantly greater knowledge of Buddhism will have to explain to me the full significance of the cave. At the basic visual level, I can account for a series of deities  like Manjushri, Raktalokeshwara, Sthirachakra, Tara, Kunda, and a couple of others at the back of the cave on the first floor. In the sanctum sanctorum sit Buddha making the bhumsparsa mudra with several bodhisattvas around him; do enter the chamber or you will miss the several sculptures surrounding the Buddha as he preaches.

The second floor has a couple of pillars with inscriptions on them; in an inscription-starved site, even sighting one inscription was elating even if I could not read much of it! The level is also similar with Tara, Kunda, bodhisattvas in the main chamber, Padmapani and Vajrapani as the dwarpalaks, and in the main shrine, again, Buddha in the bhumisparsa mudra surrounded by bodhisattvas. On this floor, he is also joined by Tara and Jambhala in the shrine. Interestingly, Padmapani seems to be holding a thunderbolt and one of the bodhisattvas an upraised sword; this is quite a contrast with the common (mis)perception of Buddhism as a peaceful and ascetic religion. In reality, there are several sects and each interpret the teachings of the Buddha in different ways; hence the weapons, the presence of several deities, and a heavy dose of tantra can be seen at Ellora.

Seven buddhas, Cave XII, ElloraThe third floor is, in my opinion, the most majestic. There are five low stone benches running across the enormous hall, interspersed by pillars. Like Cave V, this was probably a place for meditation, prayer, chanting, and study. There are five buddhas along the right wall and four along the left either in padmasana or pralambapadasana; at the front of the hall, there are 14 of the 27 buddhas prior to Siddhartha Gautama. As our guidebook informed us, they are Vipasi, Sikhi, Vishvabhu, Krachakunda, Kanakmuni, Kashyapa, Sakya Simha, Vairochanda, Akshobhya, Ratna Sambhava, Amitabha, Amogha Siddhi, Vajrasattva, and Vajra Raja from left to right. The 14 buddhas sitting in meditation inject a serenity in the chamber that I did not feel on the other two floors. We decided to take a little break right in that hall and enjoy the feel of the cave a little longer.

The shrine has an antechamber on this floor and there are six female figures along its walls – Janguli, Mahamyuri, Pandra, Bhrikuti, Tara, and Usanisavijaya. There are also six female figures facing out, three on each side of the door, and the dwarpalaks Padmapani and Vajrapani. As for the female figures, I am a bit confused – some say they are all bodhisattvas while others say there are different manifestations of Tara. Either way, the Buddhist pantheon, I realised, is fuller than I had thought.

In the innermost chamber, Buddha sits with a bhumisparsa mudra and is surrounded by Maitreya, Sthirachakra, Manjushri, Tara, Jambhala, and other bodhisattvas.

We broke for lunch before returning to finish off the Jain caves. Now I am sure none of my companions will agree with me on this but there are absolutely no civilised places to eat in the immediate vicinity of Ellora. There is one decent-looking restaurant whose food is of middling palatability and service is atrociously slow. The rest are basically shacks fashioned out of corrugated metal sheets. There is one other sturdier place, Vrindavan, if you like Jain Gujarati food – one of us asked for an onion unknowingly and got a look as if we had asked to sacrifice the waiter’s first-born to Melqart! Personally, I plan to carry a small tucker bag of goodies on my next visit.

While we are on the topic of food, another thing I noticed is how difficult it is nowadays to find misal pav in Aurangabad; I am told that Bombay is no different either. When we went looking for some good Maharashtrian snacks, on the first evening, we were told it is a breakfast food. The next morning, however, misal pav and its friends – pav bhaji, sev batata puri, bhel puri, usal pav – was nowhere to be seen either. In fact, it was easier to locate a quasi Udupi restaurant for some idli vada and upma. This is quite different from my experience elsewhere – in the north, restaurants will carry aloo paratha, samosa, and kachori all day whether you find them fit for breakfast or not, and in the south, no restaurant worth its salt would stop making idli or dosa at any point of the day.

There is perhaps only one Jain cave that stands out – Cave XXXII, named the Indra Sabha; one thing I will clearly never understand is the naming conventions of some of these caves! In any case, Cave XXXII is a series of small shrines to Mahavira and other important tirthankaras of Jainism. There is a sarvatobhadra mandapa, meaning that there is a tirthankara facing each of the four cardinal directions; in this case, they are Rishabha, the founder of the faith, Parsvanatha, Neminatha, and Mahavira the great reformer. There is also a stambha and a free-standing rock elephant in the courtyard.

Indra, Cave XXXII, ElloraThe hall contains sculptures primarily of Mahavira, sometimes flanked by Indra on his Airavata; Neminatha is seen protected by Ambika on her lion, and Parsvanantha under the hood of a naga. There are several other key Jain figures in the hall like Gomateshwara, Sarvanabhuti, Bahubali, and others. The main shrine, at the back and centre of the hall, contained a large Mahavira in his usual dhyana mudra and padmasana.

The first floor of the cave contained more of the same. However, more of the paint seems to have survived here than in any of the other caves at Ellora. Though covered in centuries of grime and neglected by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) – some may say that is a blessing in disguise – the remaining bits of the frescoes and murals give an idea of how wonderful the caves might have been when new.

We quickly wound up the rest of the Jain section and moved back to Kailasa where we ended the day. The temple is so massive that it takes a lot of time to take it all in; we were yet to explore the cloisters and that we did at the end of the second day, our last day in Ellora.

Despite being a UNESCO World Heritage site, Ellora is very poorly maintained. All the caves reek of largely chiropteran excrement or have anything more than natural lighting. One would simply have to be an above average photographer to capture the beauty of some of the sculptures in the recesses of the caves. Furthermore, the caves are still home to hundreds of bats and tourists should be careful in using their camera flash in the darker corners of the caves.

Yet the greatest danger to Ellora comes from elsewhere – Indians. It is shocking to see the criminal disregard the overwhelming majority of Indian visitors to Ellora show for the ancient rock sculptures. At several places, I saw litter and graffiti. This is a problem not just at Ellora but all Indian monuments I have visited. At Ellora, we also saw a special breed of idiot that insisted on climbing on top of the sculptures to take photographs. We even asked the guards to stop them but severely undermanned, had just given up and did not bother to fine or evict any of the visitors. By the second day, our horror had surpassed our desire to avoid conflict and a couple of us started yelling at the vandals to get off the artwork while others might have started mentally going through ancient and medieval torture techniques.

Maybe it is for the best that so many of India’s historical artifacts were looted by the British and are now on display in their museums – at least they are being preserved well. India’s ancient heritage needs to be preserved, no doubt, but the first step in that process seems to be to protect it from Indians.

I remember someone wondered if the defacement happens because of a loss of sacrality of the site – because the temples, chaityagrihas, and Buddhist viharas have fallen out of use, they are just ordinary structures and no longer sacred ones that need to be cherished. If true, this would be spell a sad fate for secular monuments; however, there is no reason to believe this is so as even functioning temples are quite filthy at times. Nearby Grishneshwar was dirty but not disgusting; Kashi and Puri, on the other hand, would drive any sane man to apostasy!

Graffiti Litter Vandals

One way to prevent such defacement is to raise the entry fees; at present, Indians and citizens of SAARC and BIMSTEC countries can gain access for ₹10 and other foreigners for ₹250. If this were raised to a hefty ₹1,000, it may not stop the vandalism – wealth or education did not appear to be criteria for being idiots – but it will at least reduce the crowds to a level that may be more manageable for the guards. The high entry fees would also ensure that Ellora is not just some picnic spot on the way to somewhere else – usually Shirdi – and only people interested in visiting the site would come in.

The caves ought to be cleaned and proper lighting provided. By proper, I mean bright yet soft light and bulbs that give off low heat. Given the affordability of MP3 players, audio guides to the caves in five or six Indian and foreign languages can also be easily made available.

One last thing I noticed about Ellora was the damage to many of the caves. The most common reason given is water damage but that simply does not cover it. The builders of Ellora, fully aware of the Elaganga and other streams that flow through the Charanandri Hills, would have taken measures to limit water damage. Furthermore, while water damage may still explain some of the damage to the extremities of the caves, it does not explain the damage to the sculptures deeper inside. Some of the damage can also be explained by the disrepair the caves fell into after the Muslim conquest of the region. Neglected by the authorities, the caves were used by locals as dwellings as well as to stable their livestock. However, a lot of the damage curiously involves decapitation of the hands, breasts, and head – typical of Islamic marauders as can be attested by Hampi and several other sites across India. It would be a striking coincidence if water damage explains this uniformly across all the caves.

My theory is that much of the damage was wrought by the Islamic overlords of Maharashtra, from the Khiljis, the Tughlaqs, the Bahamanis, and finally the Mughals. Part of the damage was caused by the lack of maintenance and royal patronage while a significant amount must have been caused by the iconoclasm of the invaders. If anyone has a better theory, I am more than willing to reconsider my assertion.

Ajanta from a distanceOn our last day in the region, we visited Ajanta. The first thing I learned was that the town name is pronounced अजिंठा and not अजंता as I have always heard. Admittedly, one is in Marathi and the latter in Hindi but since Indians seem to believe their regional flavours must be accommodated by all – Chennai, Kolkata, Mumbai, Puducherry – I was amused at the adhocism of this petulance.

Ajanta is about 95 kms away from Aurangabad and so not as conveniently reachable as Ellora is. On Indian roads, this translates to approximately two hours of driving. Strategically, visitors to the Ajanta would be better off staying in Jalgaon than Aurangabad. In any case, we had finally located some misal pav and had our fill – minor delays would not faze us that day!

Ajanta Cave 9Ajanta is a complex of 29 Buddhist caves, not all of which are finished, that were constructed in two phases. The first phase of cave building, under the Satavahanas, took place somewhere around 200 BCE and the second phase, during the reign of the Vakatakas, took place from 200 CE to 500 CE. Ajanta is therefore older than the cave complex at Ellora. It is common knowledge that the location of these caves was lost for centuries and Ajanta was found accidentally in 1819 by Captain John Smith, a British officer with the 28th Cavalry of the Madras Presidency, while hunting.

When we reached Ajanta, I was surprised to see how well planned the site was, very unlike most tourist sites in India. My surprise soon vanished when I found out that the Japanese government planned the tourist centre and access to the Ajanta complex; implementation, however, was in the hands of the Maharashtra government and quite poor. For example, there were two or three tickets we had to purchase and the bus from the tourist centre to the caves had another ticket – I am not sure why they could not all be combined into one fee. One more thing – the caves are not, yet again, in chronological order but simply numbered in the order they come on the east-to-west tourist path.

Ajanta Cave 9 BuddhaAfter Ellora, I did not think I could be impressed anymore; I had just seen some of the most magnificent manifestations of human artistic endeavour and surely there could be little to surpass the Ellora 35. I was wrong. The caves at Ajanta may not have surpassed Ellora but were easily their equals in grandeur and beauty. Here, the creators had been less intense with sculpture but the paintwork had survived the centuries due to the undisturbed state of Ajanta until 1819. The beautiful frescoes and murals, though covered in grime, were still vivid and even bright in some spots.

It is difficult for me to explain even the contents of the important caves because I am not well versed in the Buddhist canon. However, the subject matter of the murals and frescoes at Ajanta are events from the life of the Buddha, stories from the Jataka Tales, and events from the lives of some of the bodhisattvas; Ajanta is too early for the more “ornamented” versions of Buddhism, though that is what makes it better.

Padmapani, Ajanta Cave 1Cave I contains the murals of Padmapani and Vajrapani prominently seen in India’s tourism promotion campaigns. Caves IX and X are chaityagrihas – they have stupas in them – and tales from the Buddhist scriptures painted on the walls. Cave X was also the cave that Smith spotted and subsequently vandalised by scratching his name and date on one of the murals higher up. Cave XXVI is famous for its large reclining Buddha rock carving, showing the man at his moment of death. It also holds a magnificent Buddha sitting in front of a stupa and preaching.

The caves at Ajanta clearly present evidence that construction was carried out in two phases. The first phase matched the earlier and more austere Hinayana Buddhism while the latter is more in line with Mahayana Buddhism. One simple example is the increasing placement of Buddha’s statue in the shrine rather than the aniconic stupa in later caves. This is, however, an oversimplification – the latter caves are not fully Mahayana caves though they represent the transition from the earlier practices of Buddhism.

Black Buddha, AjantaSomething else that is quite interesting in the Ajanta caves is the occasional but not infrequent appearance of darker-complexioned people in the paintings. Unlike much of medieval Western art in which black represented evil, there is no hierarchy implied in the cave paintings at Ajanta. Vajrapani, Buddha’s dwarpalak and a bodhisattva, is dark. In fact, even the Buddha is frequently depicted as a black man. This is not surprising to anyone well-versed in Hindu literature – Krishna, one of the key protagonists in the Mahabharata and the eighth avatara of Vishnu, is always shown to be dusky. There is no doubt that there is an aesthetic preference for fairer skin among many in India but that preference does not at all extend to moral and character judgments about darker people. The cave paintings at Ajanta are yet another example of this fact.

I remember being asked to pay for a special ticket while entering Ajanta that was supposed to be for the lighting in the caves. Unlike Ellora, Ajanta has at least attempted to remedy the problem of darkness in the caves. However, the lighting is very poor and you will need a torch as you did at Ellora. Worse, I am not sure if the lighting installed by the management is conducive to the long life of the artwork in the caves – I would have expected a brighter and softer light, probably LEDs, that gave off much less heat than what has been provided presently.

We finished with Ajanta and headed back to Pune. Ajanta is open from 09 00 until 17 00 but we did not spend the whole day wandering through the caves. This was due to the way our itinerary had turned out but honestly, I was a bit bored in the Buddhist and Jain caves of Ajanta and Ellora. No doubt, they are exquisite creations, but they are difficult to appreciate for someone not fluent in Buddhist and Jain cosmology. I walked in, was wow’ed, and I walked out – after all, there are only so many times you can see a buddha in pralambapadasana holding a vyakhyana mudra and not get bored. Growing up on the exponentially vaster Hindu canon, I took for granted what outsiders might consider mind-boggling and ultimately confusing diversity of Hinduism. My familiarity with the various avataras of Vishnu and Shiva, not to mention the epics, is hardly scholarly but these things are the sort of stuff any normal Indian would be weaned on and just know. My quick saturation with the Buddhist and Jain caves in no way takes away from them but only expresses my weaker understanding of their canon and hence an inability to enjoy them as thoroughly as I did the Hindu caves.

If you are from afar, you may want to spend some time in Aurangabad too now that you have travelled so much. The city has a few sites of interest, the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb’s unassuming tomb near Ellora being one of them. Alamgir’s first wife is also buried there in the Bibi ka Maqbara, which looks a little like a poor man’s Taj Mahal. The Daulatabad fort may also be worth a visit. The city also has a few dargahs but none quite so spectacular or for anyone so renowned – you would be better off spending your limited time elsewhere than visit mausoleums for every Tanveer, Dastagir, and Hamid.

The misal pav was one hunt we went on but if you are non-vegetarian, do not miss out on Aurangabad’s famous naan qalia, a delicious mutton preparation.

India is hot, tropical country, and Maharashtra offers no respite; Aurangabad can be quite hot and sunny even in the non-summer months. You may want to bring along a cap, sunglasses, and some sunscreen if you do not get along with Suryadev but more importantly, be sure to keep yourself well hydrated. There is a canteen at the entrance of the Ellora complex where you can replenish your supplies, and an extra bottle of water in your backpack will not hurt. The catch here is that, like most places in India, the bathrooms are utterly filthy. Beware, you have been warned!

Like most tourism in India, Ajanta and Ellora makes one seriously consider if the dirt and grime is really worth the potential pleasure of seeing an important historical site, and like most places, the answer is a resounding “Yes” after a moment’s hesitation. These two World Heritage sites are an absolute must-see for anyone interested in Indian art, and mine was a long weekend well spent.

A few photographs from…a different kind of spelunking:

Kailasa vihara Ganesha, Cave 17, Ellora Kailasa mahayogi

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