V
V.Balasubramani
Guest
A story of life and love
- The temples of Khajuraho are inspired by the peaks of the Himalayas
In the temple town of Khajuraho, the writer looks beyond the erotica
Nothing I had read, or heard had prepared me for Khajuraho.
It is not hard to imagine a temple town in India: take a few ancient sandstone temples, fill them up with religious crowds, add a handful of foreign tourists; line its streets with cheap hotels, dot its squares with beggars and touts; finish off with piles of garbage and a few stray animals. This is the picture in my mind when my train arrives at the Khajuraho junction on a crisp, cold morning.
Set amidst fields of mustard, the railway station at Khajuraho hardly looks functional. The station is just five years old and only a handful of trains pass through it. Most passengers here are from the neighbouring towns of Panna and Chhatarpur. Khajuraho gets the minimum — and mostly tourist — footfall.
If the station with its desolate and picturesque setting surprises me, the drive to the hotel prepares me for the town. Lined with shady trees, flanked by fields and the occasional ruin, the road is quiet and refreshing. But it is not until I see the main square of the town, where the Maharaja of Khajuraho lives in his palace, right next to the western group of temples, that I realise Khajuraho is not the town of my imagination. With no chaos or crowd, it is different from other temple towns, as are its temples.
Standing tall in a sprawling lawn against a sparkling blue sky, the seven main temples of Khajuraho together constitute the western group and are a part of the UNESCO world heritage list. More than a thousand years old (the earliest are supposed to have been built around 900 AD), the temples lie scattered, some at an arms distance from the gate, others at the far end of the compound.
The temples in Khajuraho share both design and layout. They are built on a high plinth, with multiple ascending spires, which are believed to be inspired by the peaks of the Himalayas. The larger temples, like the Lakshmana, Vishvanatha and Kandariya Mahadeva, are accompanied by smaller temples; the not so large ones stand alone. Their interior and exterior — and sometimes the platforms too — are adorned with figures of gods, goddesses, nymphs, humans and animals. It is among these depictions of life that the famous — or infamous — erotic sculptures can also be spotted.
Although erotica forms less than 10 per cent of Khajuraho’s rich sculpture heritage, it remains the most popular aspect of the temples. Whether it is the guide who promises to show you the ‘important points’, or the souvenir shops in and around the complex that sell ‘kamasutra’ as books, cards, magnets, or even pens, everyone wants to cash in on the sexual element of the temples. Guides can be seen highlighting the poses and postures to their awestruck clients; tourists, in turn, ensure they have every sculpture – and pose – safely captured on their cameras.
“The temples, if you notice, depict all stages of human life – from birth to death. Only when you perform all your worldly duties can you gain moksha, and what is kama but another responsibility that each one of us has to fulfil?” asks the young caretaker at Parshuram temple. He then highlights the other aspects of the temples: the mythical animal that looks like a dragon, Ganga and Jamuna, who stand on the gates of the garbhagriha to cleanse devotees, the pillars engraved with keechak holding the spire with his bare hands. There are also scenes from gurukuls, war fields and musical performances.
Read moe at: A story of life and love - The Hindu
