The Tanjore Trip - 4

Darasuram - Where Stones Speak and Sing

In Darasuram, we missed the gods for the temples. The Shiva temple at Darasuram [which is closer to Kumbhakonam town than to Tanjore] is said to have been built by Raja Raja II, the grandson of Raja Raja Cholan, in the 12th century. Shiva is worshipped as Airavateswarar here. The temple is much smaller than the other two UNESCO Living Chola temples but far more exquisite in its sculpture.

Outside the only Vaasal of the temple is a tiny Nandi facing the great big wooden door.

Every wall and every pillar, even the steps leading up to the shrines are copiously sculpted and the tiniest of figurines - often not more than a few inches in height - has the graceful body structure and finely chiselled details that we associate with Chola art. Look at the profusely sculpted pillar below.

Note the tiny panels below the sculpted figure and the sculpted arch above it. Note the figure itself. You can almost say the garment separate from the body.

This is an elaborately ornate temple, as you can see, though not as gigantic as the other two. I wonder if it would be right to say that here we see a shift in the Chola artistic vision from design to detail, from architecture to sculpture, from the spiritual to the aesthetic?

If the Tanjore temple is a monument of triumph or a religious monument that works through rousing one's sense of beauty, then the Darasuram temple is a monument to artistic beauty, where a rapturous aesthetic experience itself becomes a near spiritual experience.

If in the Tanjore temple, we could feel the invisible footprint and echoing stride of that colossus among kings, Raja Raja, here I could almost hear the incessant knocking of chisel and axe on stone, and almost see the chips and shards fly in showers of sparks and clouds of dust, as figure after figure bloomed alive.

And as if the sculpture weren't enough of a visual feast, there are murals on niches in the external walls of the shrines, which though somewhat faded and jaded with time are still good enough for details to be visible and colours evident. We couldn't help wondering how the temple must have looked in its heydays, with its brilliant sculpture and the complementary murals glowing in the summer sun.

The motif below will be familiar to temple architecture buffs: look closely and you can see a bull on the left and an elephant on the right.

Entire war scenes and complete stories from mythology have been empanelled on pillars at Darasuram.

Several shrines in the Darasuram and Gangaikondacholapuram complexes lie in ruins today. Some lack vimanams, others are just foundations whose walls lie in heaps of broken stone. Local people say a lot of the solid rocks were carried away to build a stone bridge [Lower Anakkarai] across a river nearby. Some say it was during the British rule that the structures were first brought down. Whatever the truth is, I find it perplexing that the beautiful living breathing sculpted rocks failed to stir and move their destroyers who had the heart to use them to lay a  bridge for town buses and bullock carts.

The Tanjore Trip - 3

Gangaikondacholapuram - like father, like son

The Brihadeeswarar temple in Gangaikondacholapuram, near Kumbakonam, is a replica of the Tanjore temple. They say it was built by Raja Raja's illustrious son, Rajendra Chola, who earned for him the sobriquet Gangaikondacholan, by expanding his empire up to the Ganga in the north. he is said to ahve brought back huge jars of Ganga water, making him the Gangaikondavan.

During his times, the capital of the Chola kingdom moved from Tanjore to Gangaikondacholapuram, a new city built by him. The Brihadeeswarar temple in its design, architecture and sculpture almost replicates the monument built by his father at Tanjore. In temple sculpture I found this complex more refined and graceful than the Tanjore temple. I am no historian but Gangaikondacholapuram may have marked a progress and evolution in the art of temple sculpture.

The Simha kulam at Gangaikondacholapuram is a departure from the Tanjore complex design.

The Nandi is as big and perhaps even a shade bigger than the one at Tanjore. But here he is not consecrated in a mandapam but remains plainly exposed to the elements, fending for himself as best he can. The simha kulam and Nandi are made of some other material - not the granite structure we see in Tanjore - this looks more like limestone.

The temple entrance lacks a vimanam and I don't know whether it was deliberately kept incomplete or just ruined in course of time. The main temple gopuram that can be seen at the distance is as elegant though not quite as stately or majestic as the Tanjore gopuram. The story goes that Rajendra Chola found the temple complex shaping into an even more elegant structure than the Tanjore temple, and he deliberately toned down the design so that his father's would ever remain the grander and more admired monument. The main gopuram of the temple was thus kept smaller and I am not sure, but maybe even the Vaasal left unfinished?

I don't know whether the legend is true, but the story of the son's deference for his father making him take that ultimate step of deliberately underplaying himself to enable his father remain in the limelight stirred my imagination and moved me no end.

It also reminds me of another legend associate with another temple town - let me quote the wikipedia version of the story:


King Narasimha Deva-I of the Ganga Dynasty had ordered this temple to be built as a royal proclamation of the political supremacy of his dynasty. A workforce of 12 hundred artisans and architects invested their creative talent, energy and artistic commitment for an exhausting period of 12 years. The king had already spent an amount equivalent to the state's revenue receipts of 12 years. However, the completion of the construction was nowhere near sight. Then the king issued a final command that the work be completed by a stipulated date. The team of architects headed by Bisu Maharana was at its wit's end. It was then that Dharmapada the 12 year old son of the chief architect Bisu Maharana arrived there as a visiting on looker. He became aware of the anxiety looming large among the architects. Although he did not have any practical experience of temple construction, he was thorough in his study of the theories of temple architecture. He offered to solve the confounding problem of fixing the last copping stone at the top of the temple. He surprised everyone by doing that himself. But soon after this achievement the dead body of this adolescent prodigy was found on the sea beach at the foot of the temple. Legend says that Dharmapada laid down his life to save his community.


According to another version, Dharmapada flung himself into the sea and gave up his life to spare his father who was the expert in the field the ignominy and shame of being compared to his very young son. Sad legend. The Gangakondacholapuram legend is stirring, and it is not speak so much of sacrifice as this one; the Konark legend is poignantly sad and disturbing.

I am sure there are many versions of this legend associated with many Indian temples and I wonder if this is the Indian version of the sacrifice motif that is associated with kings and gods in all old cultures. Or is it the Indian version of those old stories of builders of monuments being killed after the completion of the work that we have heard of in Egypt and other places?

This picture [above] and the one before that is just to show what temple festivals can do to our temple complexes. We visited both Gangaikondacholapuram and the Tanjore temple on the same day - the latter in the morning and the latter in the evening of Sani Peyarchi. But what a difference! There was a steady stream of visitors in the Tanjore temple - as many tourists as devotees - and besides the regular prasadam we were offered a neat packet of kumkumam and vibhuti, some flowers and a banana at the main sanctum as a Sani Peyarchi special. At Gangaikondacholapuram, the temple complex had been transformed into a thiruvizha [mela] site, with entire village populations queuing up for a sani peyarchi special puja and special prasadam at the front mandapam of the main temple with much pulling and pushing and breathing down one another's sweaty necks. Not to mention littering the whole complex with plastic and paper cups and plates and leftover thayir saadam and banana skin....! Note the shops peddling trinkets and the temple elephant in the earlier photograph.

No one as much as looked at the sculptures. No one cared that a heritage site was being messed. What was this about? Was it a local effort to entertain the local populace by reviving a community tradition of collective celebration? Which is fine, but what was lacking was an effort to maintain cleanliness and order in the temple, and impressing the importance and significance of the temple and the ruler in their local history. An opportunity to build national pride and educate people on the need for order and cleanliness was lost.

Wonder if UNESCO or ASI were aware of the Sani Peyarchi programme? Wonder what they would have to say to the shameful mess that the temple was that day?

An entire panel running across the breadth of one of the shrines in the complex had lions in several poses, making me wonder whether Tamil Nadu was home to a lion population in the 10th-12th centuries? Or were they based on stories and pictures brought back by the king and his army  from the north? The Sri Lanka flag has a golden lion on it - wonder where this awareness of lions came from?

The Tanjore Trip - 2

So what could have inspired or prompted Raja Raja to undertake the building of a temple on this scale?

Many things may drive a king, and one with enormous resources at his command is more likely to vigorously pursue his whimsies and dreams. Raja Raja was a man with not only ambition and means, but also vision and purpose. He was an imperialist, a classical example of an expansionist who did not flinch from war and destruction. He was also a man of taste and refined sensibilities. His taste, ambition and vision are reflected in both his expansionist policies and his artistic endeavours. Perhaps an extraordinary man like Raja Raja could only envision and implement projects on a mega scale; anything lesser would not even pass his mind.

But there may be another angle to the whole question. Historians say the inscriptions on the temple walls at Thanjavur rather unusually begin by praising the king or singing of his achievements. The Keralanthaka Vaasal is said to be commemorative of his victory over the Cheras – a secular objective blurring the religious vision. Step through the Keralantaka Vaasal and you will find yourself facing the third of the lofty entrances to the temple – called the Raja Raja Vaasal. The King actually named the temple entrance after himself. Historians say Raja Raja identified himself with Tripurantaka, an aspect of Lord Shiva? Hmm...do we detect a chest thumping megalomaniac here?

Wait, there is more. A documentary film says Raja Raja was urged to build the temple as a sort of atonement for his transgressions. Waging needless wars, following his ambitious expansionist vision, Raja Raja had to make up for the blood on his hands. Temple building was his way of appeasing the gods.

No one can actually be understood in monochrome; it is the many facetedness of our personality that makes us so inconsistent in action, difficult to understand and yet so endearingly human.

Whether the Tanjore temple was Raja Raja's ego trip or guilt trip or simply an expression of his aesthetic sense or spiritual growth is for historians to debate. For us the temple was a visual treat that led to an aesthetic experience that verged on a spiritual experience. After all, isn't it true that any attempt to go beyond the mundane - through any art form - is as spiritual as a religious act or ritual? 

The Tanjore Trip – 1

Brihadeeswarar Temple, Thanjavur

UNESCO called them the Living Chola Temples. I like that word ‘living’. They are that – the three Shiva temples built by the Greater Cholas between 10^th and 13^th centuries in Thanjavur, Gangaikondacholapuram and Darasuram.

When Tara and I decided to do a small weekend holiday trip down south, her choice was Kanya Kumari and mine was Thanjavur. I vetoed Kanyakumari because this was that time of the year – the tsunami time - and the horrendous memories haven’t faded. So we grabbed some clothes and took a bus to Thanjavur just one day before Sani Peyarchi.

Our first stop was the Brihadeeswarar Temple in Thanjavur, the earliest and admittedly the grandest of the Chola temples.

The Brihadeeswarar Temple was built by Raja Raja Chola, the greatest of the Cholas, in the beginning of the 11^th century.

The taxi wound its way through the narrow dusty streets of the small town of Thanjavur and suddenly the temple loomed in front of us, its vimanam towering majestically over us. All shimmering in fiery dusty red-brown, the first glimpse of the temple blew our breath away. 

Three successive vaasals or entrances with vimanas [or gopurams] built at different times in the history of the temple took us inside the complex but it was a good fifteen minutes before we actually entered, because each vaasal with its many-tiered vimana crowded with figurines big and small held us rooted and spell-bound.

In just five minutes Tara and I knew we had chosen the right place to holiday in.

The first entrance is called the Maratha entrance and was the latest to be built. The second one is called the Keralantaka vaasal and is said to commemorate Raja Raja’s victories in war against his Chera counterparts. The third one is called the Raja Raja vaasal and once you enter through its towering archway, you are inside the complex and right in front of you is the huge Nandi presenting his ample back to you!

the Maratha entrance - the first entrance

looking through the three vaasals or entrances

a closer look at the vimanam of the first entrance

the third entrance - the Raja Raja Vaasal - opens out into the Nandi Mandapam 

Tara and Nandi showing their backs to each other!

We are still at the entrance - the inner wall of the Raja Raja vaasal

                             We are still at the entrance - the inner wall of the Raja Raja vaasal

The linga in the garbha graham is so huge he can be seen far away from the very entrance of the main mandapam which is quite some distance from the sanctum. Shiva’s consort Goddess Brihannayaki also carved in granite has a shrine to the left of her lord. She is also queen-size and on the day we saw her, she was gracefully clad in a deep dark red nine-yards that set off the polished granite texture very nicely.  

The gods are plain and undistinguished, but for their size, but the temple was a study in contrast. Almost every inch of the temple walls is ornately carved, and graceful figurines beckon us from every niche.

One of the outer walls has hundreds of figurines of dancing girls in various karanas or mudras and it is believed that the dying bharata natya shastra was reconstructed by the early dance gurus like Padma Subramanian and Rukmini Devi Arundale from the sculptures in Thanjavur and Chidambaram.

The main gopuram is 50 m high and consists of thirteen tiers crowded with graceful figurines. It is said that the kumbham at the top has been so designed that at no time of the day will its shadow fall on the ground.

Our first view of the maha mandapam and the kovil gopuram had us in raptures.

Every wall of the main mandapa is intricately carved: there were not only gods and goddesses but entire stories from mythology sculpted in panel after panel, rock after rock. From larger-than-life-size dwarapalas to less than one foot high panels running all around the walls.

 ...and the gopuram once more!

This duct is where the abhishekam water and milk drain out of the garbha griham and collect in a trough beneath the duct. Narrow channels from the trough conduct the water out of the temple complex. Note the dwarf-like figure bearing the duct on his head.

Nandi who is a huge block of granite is ensconced in a lofty mandapam and faces the main mandapam which leads to the garbha graham. 

two bulls together - Nandi and Tara the taurean

Just behind the main mandapam are smaller shrines to Ganapathy and the royal priest, Karuvar Devar and Subramanya. To the immediate left of the main mandapam is the Chandikesvara shrine and towards the entrance of the main mandapam and to its left is the shrine of Brihannayaki or Periyanayaki.


                                                   
                                      a view of the temple gopuram from behind the Chandikesvara shrine  

The Subramanya shrine is a later addition, built by the Nayaka rulers in 12^th-13^th centuries. The style of the sculptures in this shrine is distinctly different from the rest of the complex in its choice of motifs, in the lines and curves of figurines.

a pillar in the Subrahmanya shrine

a pillar in the Subrahmanya shrine

The ceiling of the Brihannayaki temple is painted over with stories from mythology in the distinctly Tanjore style.

All around the temple complex marking the boundary of the temple run long continuous corridors that were once two-storeyed. It is now a single-storeyed corridor, a part of which has been converted into a museum where artefacts with explanatory plaques introduce us to different dimensions of Chola art. 

Here also are the Chola wall paintings that once adorned the walls of the long temple corridors, whose vivid reds and blues and greens stand out even today, in spite of ravages, natural and man-made, that they had to suffer in the thousand years of their existence. The style of these paintings is not so much Tanjore as we know it today – at least that was what I thought. I would say there is a strong resemblance to the style of the Ajanta paintings.

The corridor and temple walls have inscriptions in Tamil dating back to Raja Raja’s times. There are some Marathi inscriptions too obviously belonging to a later period.

The museum, an explanatory map at the entrance, and a touch screen kiosk with video shows, as also cleanly maintained green lawns are courtesy UNESCO and Archeological Survey of India.

Although we visited the temple on Sani Peyarchi, there was no crowd in the temple except for tourists like us, who had come more out of curiosity than out of piety.  Which really led me to wonder if the Thanjavur temple had ever been on the pilgrim’s itinerary. Perhaps it was always known more for the aesthetic experience it delivered than as a seat of worship.