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A soft pearly light dims the stars and lifts the
opaque veil of darkness from Mahabalipuram and the pyramidal contours
of a diminutive temple swim into view silhouetted against a vast
cathedral sky, like a wondrous unreality spun out of early morning
magic.
The colours deepen; the
virginal blush of dawn smears the sky. Delicate skeins of pale gold
and searing orange lie intertwined in intimate embrace across the
smudged horizon, suffusing the idle waters of the Bay of Bengal-an
unabashed foreplay of colours. A thin hot wedge of vivid red emerges
out of the sea, growing every moment into a flaming, pulsating disc
that soon disowns the theatre of its birth.
The lone temple, that
guardian of the shore, is a becalmed spectator. It has been an
apathetic witness to this impassioned spectacle every dawn for the
last 1,200 years.
For Mahabalipuram-or
Mamallapuram, its ancient name-is one of history’s intriguing
enigmas. It was a flourishing port town of the Pallava rulers of
south India who chiseled in stone a babulous open- air museum of
sculptures under the vault of a burning sky. That much is known. But
was this sculptural glorification a king’s fancy? A celebration
of war victories? A queen’s fantasy? A stone bench at the site
is supposedly one on which kings of the time sat while discussing
projects with their mansons.
Why then after all that
royal patronage, was most of the work abandoned? Left incomplete?
What interrupted them in their tasks? No answers are available.
They stay there wee seven
pagodas or temples on the shores of Mahabalipuram. All but one were
pillaged by the rapacious sea, though there is little underwater
evidence to substantiate their existence.
The mystery of
Mahabalipuram lingers, unraveled, but its sculptural extravaganza is
a living testament of the virile artistic temperament of the Pallavas
who were trendsetters
In South Indian art. And
their monuments tenanted by the gods evoke the transience of man and
his civilization. The Shore Temple and the five rathas (chariots)
are forerunners of the Dravidian style of architecture that evolved
later. Mahabalipuram is supposed to be the handiwork of three
monarchs. Mahendravaraman I (600-630 A.D.), Narasimhavaram I
(630-666 A.D.), and Narasimhavarman II (700-728 A.D.). Hence the
three distinctly discernible styles of sculpture reflecting
progressive degrees of refinement progressive degree of refinement.
One school of thought attributes this wonderland in stone entirely to
the multifaceted artistic genius of Rajasimhan, though the coastal
village itself deives its name from Narashmhavarman I hailed as
Mamallan or Mahamalla (great wrestler).
A delightful freshness
permeates their outpourings here, largely due to their folk art
origins. Rocks have been scooped out to make cave temples and
rock-cut shrines. Rock surfaces have been filled with bas-reliefs and
panels crowded with a cavalcade of men, gods and animals, their
figures and movements breathtakingly realistic.
The Varaha cave, a small
rock-cut mandapam (hall) is a faceted and finished gem with
four panels of the famous Pallava door-keepers who wear an expression
of pious rapture as Heinrich Zimmer, a leading expert on
Mahabalipuram put it. There is about them a mood of contemplative
reverie, a lyrical softness and a subtle grace totally at variance
with the primordial machismo on them. In the presence of their divine
masters, the surge of manhood is harnessed into a religious fervour.
Feebles sunlight glimmers
on panels of enduring beauty in the Mahishamardini cave. The
Somaskanda sculpture radiates peace, power and wisdom while Lord
Vishnu in omniscient repose is a masterpiece of dhwani (the
art of suggestion) perfected by the Pallava sculptor.
It finds vivid and
animated expression in the northern wall panel that is an explosive,
action-packed scene of haunting aesthetic perfection.
Goddess Durga’s
fight with the buffalo-headed demon Mahishasura, an episode culled
from the celebrated Sanskrit poem Devi Mahatmya.
It is a glimpse of
eternal beauty, a fragment in time, a fleeting moment imprisoned
forever in stone. The young, sylph-like goddess looks playful in
battle. Humour puckers the corners of her full lips and a strange
ecstasy glows on her face. Her head is tilted back in saucy pride,
her diadem undisturbed. A heavy necklace nestles in the soft
sanctuary of her bursting young bosom restrained only by the barest
hint of a raiment. Reckless courage courses through her slender
arched body and she flexes her arms regally aiming her deadly missile
at her brutish adversary who is well versed in craft, cunning and
stratagem, endowed with a physical prowess the Devi Mahatmya refers
to with awe, when he swaggered round with speed, the earth crumbled
into pieces under his hooves… But the goddess is unruffled, a
remarkable serenity, a self-assurance and an astute presence of mind
in her pose. And a supreme confidence, almost like a foretaste of
victory.
And yet the battle is far
from won, though triumph does hover in the air. The demon retreats a
bit not so much in arrogant bluster or defeat as in shrewd appraisal.
Brutal and retributive, weighing in his hands his large iron club as
much as his chances in war, biding his time to parry and thrust.
Arjun’s Penance,
perhaps the world’s largest bas-relief is the universe itself in
stone, throbbing with a vastness of conception. With magnificent
largesse did the Pallava mason spend himself on this colossus of art
27 meter long and nine miter high. But the identity of the chief
protagonist of this panel has endlessly puzzled historians. Is he
Arjuna, the hero of the epic Mahabharata, or is he Bhagiratha, Rama’s
ancestor?
Legend has it that King
Bhagiratha had to bring down to earth the celestial Ganga to purify
and redeem the accursed souls of his ancestors. But the river in its
torrential plunge would inundate the earth and so he had to undergo a
penance to propitiate Shiva who finally received the flood in his
matted locks and let it trickle down! This was a sight for the
world’s creatures to see and they gathered round. The cheft in
the rock depicts the descent of Ganga a theory supported by the ruins
of a stone water tank on the hill. There is a forest with tribal
people and all forms of animal life, just s they would appear in
their habitat. Women clothed in an aura of ineffable grace, a rich
inner beauty transfiguring the plainest of them. The whole scene has
a delicate edge of hum our. Juxtaposed against the ascetic is a cat
doing rigorous penance too, eyes firmly shut, even to the delectable
mice scampering around within easy reach!
The five rathas
(chariots) are architectural precursors of the temples of sough
Indian. The smallest and the simplest is the Draupadi ratha and the
largest is the multi-storeyed Dharmaraja ratha scopped from a
monolithic rock. These small unfinished shrines ravaged by war and
weather are things of undiminished beauty.
But it is the Shore
Temple a three-in-one abode of god that evokes the spell of
Mahabalipuram. A Vishnu temples sandwiched between two Shiva temples,
it is a visual delight, its precincts abounding in architectural
masterpieces.
On either side of it the
sea spreads, illimitable and infinite. The afternoon sun glances
slantingly through its weathered spires, curiously amorphous, lacing
in finiteness. And it is a disquieting thought that comes unbidden to
one’s mind. How long will it survive? This mute tireless
sentinel of the shore, pregnant with the unrevealed secrets of a
thousand two hundred years? How long more this unyielding anchorage
by the sea? For it is the Short Temple, wind-shipped and surf-beaten,
that is the ultimate expression of Mahabalipuram.
A 65 kilometer stretch of
sunscorched road connects Mahabalipuram to the fabled city of a
thousand temples, kanchipuram.
Kanchipuram is the
ancient capital of the Pallava rulers who for some unknown reason,
ventured into Mahabalipuram first to perfect their art before they
built here. Rampantly, leisurely, and superficially. But not
gratuitously.
A hot wind stirs
languorously in the stately old trees that dot the roadside. But by
one, it is a treeless, trackless, tamed wilderness, the unexpected
patches of ripening green fields and thorny bushes melting into ochre
pools of water the recent rains have left behind.
Eyes are dulled by this
heat induced soporific and a pleasant unconsciousness invades the
senses when one’s startled gaze focuses indistinctly at first,
on a tulky tiered stone gopuram (tower) that thrusts itself
insistently upward, dominating the landscape with a presence more
felt than seen.
But then this is just one
of the gopurams in the famous city of the Pallavas. For Rajasimha or
Atyantakama (he of boundless desires) as he is referred to in
inscriptions reveled in creating an unlimited variety of art. There
are 650 stone inscriptions in Kanchipuram belonging to different
dynasties and different periods; but though the city reached its
zenith during Pallava rule, their records number a mere 12.
The temples here reflect
the maturity and efflorescence of Pallava art and the ornate and
often imposing embellishments were produced later by the Chola,
Vijayanagara and Chalukyan kings. Transient royal whims that turned
into monumental endurance.
There is a solemn
grandeur, a grandiosity of vision and ornamental excess in the
temples here. A disembodies other-worldly stillness impregnates
their vast inner domains where time is a captive fugitive. The
Ekambaranathar temple, the outcome of the artistic impulses of three
different dynasties, has five prakrams (enclosures) and a
thousand-pillared mandapam. A soaring piety takes its
clustered 11-storeyed pinnacles upward to the very threshold of god’s
own heaven.
The Kailasanatha temple,
Sri Varadaraja temple, Sri Vaikuntaperumal temple… the names
stretch endlessly. The city itself is dedicated to the presiding
deity, Sri Kamakshi (one with eyes of love) at the Kamakshi temple.
In Sanskrit, the word kanchi denotes girdle and poets have
allegorically characterized the city as a girdle to the earth.
And so it was. A seat of
learning that attracted scholars from far flungs corners of the
globe. Dharamapala, the Buddhist scholar and Vatsyayana, the author
of Natyabhashya belonged to Kanchipram while Hieun Tsand, the
indefatigable Chinese pilgrim visited the city and chronicled what he
saw. Kanchi was the cradle of a great religious renaissance too.
Tamil Saivite saints, Appar and Siruthonder lived and worked here. It
enjoys a unique status among India’s ancient cities, for all
indigenous religions-Jainism, Buddhism, Vaishnavism and
Saivism-flourished here. Even today, it is one of the most sacred
places of pilgrimage in India and one of the seats of the Hindu math
of Sri Sankaracharya.
But what ahs now girdled
the earth is the gold-embroidered Kanchipuram silk sari that ahs been
for centuries a prized possession of the south Indian woman.
Kanchipuram though, is not a center of silk production. It is ironic
that the yarn comes from Varanasi and the gold thread from Surat.
However, it has traditionally been the home of this handloom
industry. Now its industrious weavers have come out with Kanchi
cotton-cheap, sturdy and colourful and aesthetically designed to suit
contemporary taste and the export market. Shops dealing with silk and
cotton saris and material line the main street of the town and for a
demonstration of handloom weaving, visit the Weaver’s service
center, 20 Railway Station Road. Kanchipuram is the only city in
south India to have played such a dominant, decisive and continuous
role in the history of the peninsula. At one time, it was the hub of
the empire; of pomp and panoply. Today, it is a small place that time
has forgotten. Royalty abandoned it long ago and history shifted its
allegiance to other more dramatic arenas. And in the quiet
interregnum of the centuries when life thundered by elsewhere, the
ancient city, wrapped in nostalgia, too proud to change with the
times, withdrew from the a mainstream. To become what it is today. An
Arcadian fastness of beauty. A dreamy detachment and a quaint
medievalism, the lasting impression of which one consigns to memory.
VISITING MAHABALIPURAM
GETTING THERE
By Air
The nearest airport,
Madras (Chennai being the new name) is 64 kilometer away.
By Rail
The nearest Railway
station, Chigelpet is 29 kilometer away.
By Road
Mahabalipuram is
connected by road to Madras. Thirukkalikundram, also known as
Pakshithirtham, Kanchipuram and Pondicherry via Chingelpet. It is 16
kilometer from Pakshithirtham and 65 kilometer from Kanchipuram via
Chingelpet.
It is connected by
frequent local bus service with Madras, Chingelpet and
Pakshithirtham.
WHERE TO STAY
Temple Bay, Ashok Beach
Resort.
Golden Sun, Beach Resort
Hotel, 59 Covelong Road.
Ideal Beach Resort
Silversands.
TTDC Beach Resort
Complex,
VGP Golden Beach Resort,
East Coast Road, Injambakaam (15 kilometer from Madras and 39
kilometer from Mahabalipuram).
Fisherman’s Cove,
Coverlong (38 kilometer from Madras and 20 kilometer from
Mahabalipuram).
Other Accommodation TTDC
(Tamil Nadu Tourist Development Corporation) camping site near Shore
Temple.
WHERE TO EAT
Restaurants in Temple Bay
Ashok Beach Resort, Golden Sun, Ideal Beach Resort, Silver Sands,
TTDC Beach Resort Complex and VGP Golden Beach Resort serve Indian
and Continental food.
LOCAL TRANSPORT
Tourist taxis can be
hired from Madras. Unmetered private taxis and cycle rickshaws are
also available.
MISCELLANEOUS
Tourist Information
Centre
Tourist Information
Counter, Govt. of Tamil Nadu, Mahabalipuram.
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