Khajuraho is just a little town of about 8,000 in the central highlands of northern India but it was once ruled by an important and powerful Hindu king who fought many battles during his reign at about 1000 AD. Each time he won – and he won many times – he built a new temple. Eventually there were over 70 of them. When his kingdom was conquered by the Muslims in the 16th Century, they destroyed many of the temples but twenty or so of them survived. Our reason for being here – indeed the only reason to come to this place – is to see the temples, so noted for their magnificent carvings and so well preserved that they have been designated by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.
Unlike any temples I’ve seen in other parts of the world, these are difficult to describe. Like all monuments, they aspire to the higher air so these, true to form, go upward, growing smaller as they go, tier on tier, like a wedding cake. And like a wedding cake, their surfaces are completely covered. On the lower levels, there are many, many carvings of the people of the time (or at least idealized people of the time), running in friezes around the periphery but as the tiers go higher, the decoration turns to geometric features, sometimes round, sometimes triangular, but all piercing the hard stone in a color between orange and brown, which stands out dramatically against the blue sky. It is from one of these temples that the statues from the Kama (Sex) Sutra (Education) come and many of the depictions are quite graphic, running the gamut through all kinds of sexual expression and in any form you might imagine. Although the site is famous for these carvings, they’re only a very small part of a much more elaborate and beautiful creation.
The temples are in a kind of park, with walkways and green grass and many beautiful flowers, now mostly asters and dahlias but there is also bouganvillia, a brilliant pink against the vibrant brown of the structures. Each temple is maintained by a woman dressed in a brilliant sari who sweeps the steps and the platforms on which the temples stand. Although they are the perfect foil for photographs, they really don’t want to be photographed so one has to catch them at the perfect moment, when they’re not looking and still in some position that gives great contrast to the colors of the buildings.
The carvings themselves are very deep and stand out dramatically in the sun. It is hard to believe that they have survived for over 1000 years, with so much of their detail intact. You can still see individual stands of hair, bracelets on arms, fingers and toes. Anil, our guide, says this is due not only to the hardness of the sandstone (which must have made them very difficult and laborious to create) but also to the fact that there is never any frost here so no expansion and contraction of the material. Also, as I said yesterday, the site was lost for many, many years and the buildings were covered with algae, which helped to preserve them and has now been removed.
Getting to the monuments was an adventure. I had to thread my way through very aggressive youngsters who want to sell books, postcards and other souvenirs. And aggressive doesn’t really describe their posture for they walk beside you – even guiding you by their proximity in a direction they want you to go – talking to you and pushing their wares in your face. We’d been told by our guide to avoid eye contact and not say anything to them for anything we might say would indicate interest. But ignoring them was very difficult. At the end of the tour, when we were all back on the bus, they crowded up the entryway and tried to get up the steps. Our guide acted as a go-between, showing us their wares and taking money when one of us wanted something.
They reminded me of hawkers at Ankgor who attacked Dennis and me when we arrived at the site by taxi before dawn. We got out of the car and were assaulted by them, like mosquitoes swarming around us. The whole thing is pitiful really, when the value of the clothes we wear and the cameras we sport would support their families for a year.
The temples also reminded me of Ankgor, although these are better preserved and so much more beautiful. They were built at about the same time, and the same time as the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris and some of the monuments in the Inca and Aztec civilizations. We joked at lunch about this phenomenon, one person at our table (Dennis) suggesting that aliens must have come to earth at about this time and given the people blueprints and an energy source that helped them create such beautiful things.
The weather has been mild, about 75 during the day and much cooler at night, with bright sun and usually a little breeze. We couldn’t ask for better. We’ve all had a little touch of stomach upset, some more than others. In my case, I started by emptying everything and then the pendulum swung in the other direction, not yet returning to normal. Oh well; that’s the price one pays for travel. And this trip reminds me of my age. I no longer have the energy (even with a relatively new knee) to scramble from one place to another, up and down, trying to find the perfect angle for my photograph. Of course, I’m so intent on getting the “great” photo – I took over 200 this morning - that I don’t realize I’m getting tired until we get back to the hotel and I suffer from the aches and pains. This may have to be my last major trip of this kind.
We’ve all become quite good friends and so far, there is no one noted for being difficult. We consist of Bob from LA, the gregarious attorney for difficult torts with parted hair and the perfect meerschaum moustache; Mark, the anesthesiologist born in Lithuania but now from New York; Caesar, the wispy Asian American I haven’t yet spent much time with; Vince, who sold his company and now lives in Nevis, tall and thin, with vestiges of his native Tennessee in his accent; Ron and Chad, from DC, who remind me of Squirt and Spray, always perfectly dressed – I gather one of them is in medicine and the other works for the government but what medicine and which government remains a mystery I have not yet tackled; Dennis and David and me; and our leader, Andrew, whose wholesome and boyish demeanor make me want to call him “Sonny.” And there’s our local guide, Anil, an Indian from Delhi, who seems to be able to answer any question we ask and is highly qualified for this job, with a careful, almost stylized delivery in his English and a hand he holds out in a very awkward pose to emphasize his points. He has beautiful, rich, black hair just beginning to grow gray at the temples, and Jill Sander glasses but without rims. And then there’s Purum, whose function is unclear – perhaps he’s there to assist Anil with the logistics of our trip – all bashful and shy, with doe eyes I catch looking at me (and others) often.
Tomorrow it’s back to Delhi by bus and train, with stops along the way at what are billed as picturesque villages. We won’t arrive back at our hotel until close to midnight so it will be a very long day. Then comes the deluge: Agra, Jaipur, Udaipur. I’m having a good time; India is an incredible experience. Stay tuned.
Unlike any temples I’ve seen in other parts of the world, these are difficult to describe. Like all monuments, they aspire to the higher air so these, true to form, go upward, growing smaller as they go, tier on tier, like a wedding cake. And like a wedding cake, their surfaces are completely covered. On the lower levels, there are many, many carvings of the people of the time (or at least idealized people of the time), running in friezes around the periphery but as the tiers go higher, the decoration turns to geometric features, sometimes round, sometimes triangular, but all piercing the hard stone in a color between orange and brown, which stands out dramatically against the blue sky. It is from one of these temples that the statues from the Kama (Sex) Sutra (Education) come and many of the depictions are quite graphic, running the gamut through all kinds of sexual expression and in any form you might imagine. Although the site is famous for these carvings, they’re only a very small part of a much more elaborate and beautiful creation.
The temples are in a kind of park, with walkways and green grass and many beautiful flowers, now mostly asters and dahlias but there is also bouganvillia, a brilliant pink against the vibrant brown of the structures. Each temple is maintained by a woman dressed in a brilliant sari who sweeps the steps and the platforms on which the temples stand. Although they are the perfect foil for photographs, they really don’t want to be photographed so one has to catch them at the perfect moment, when they’re not looking and still in some position that gives great contrast to the colors of the buildings.
The carvings themselves are very deep and stand out dramatically in the sun. It is hard to believe that they have survived for over 1000 years, with so much of their detail intact. You can still see individual stands of hair, bracelets on arms, fingers and toes. Anil, our guide, says this is due not only to the hardness of the sandstone (which must have made them very difficult and laborious to create) but also to the fact that there is never any frost here so no expansion and contraction of the material. Also, as I said yesterday, the site was lost for many, many years and the buildings were covered with algae, which helped to preserve them and has now been removed.
Getting to the monuments was an adventure. I had to thread my way through very aggressive youngsters who want to sell books, postcards and other souvenirs. And aggressive doesn’t really describe their posture for they walk beside you – even guiding you by their proximity in a direction they want you to go – talking to you and pushing their wares in your face. We’d been told by our guide to avoid eye contact and not say anything to them for anything we might say would indicate interest. But ignoring them was very difficult. At the end of the tour, when we were all back on the bus, they crowded up the entryway and tried to get up the steps. Our guide acted as a go-between, showing us their wares and taking money when one of us wanted something.
They reminded me of hawkers at Ankgor who attacked Dennis and me when we arrived at the site by taxi before dawn. We got out of the car and were assaulted by them, like mosquitoes swarming around us. The whole thing is pitiful really, when the value of the clothes we wear and the cameras we sport would support their families for a year.
The temples also reminded me of Ankgor, although these are better preserved and so much more beautiful. They were built at about the same time, and the same time as the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris and some of the monuments in the Inca and Aztec civilizations. We joked at lunch about this phenomenon, one person at our table (Dennis) suggesting that aliens must have come to earth at about this time and given the people blueprints and an energy source that helped them create such beautiful things.
The weather has been mild, about 75 during the day and much cooler at night, with bright sun and usually a little breeze. We couldn’t ask for better. We’ve all had a little touch of stomach upset, some more than others. In my case, I started by emptying everything and then the pendulum swung in the other direction, not yet returning to normal. Oh well; that’s the price one pays for travel. And this trip reminds me of my age. I no longer have the energy (even with a relatively new knee) to scramble from one place to another, up and down, trying to find the perfect angle for my photograph. Of course, I’m so intent on getting the “great” photo – I took over 200 this morning - that I don’t realize I’m getting tired until we get back to the hotel and I suffer from the aches and pains. This may have to be my last major trip of this kind.
We’ve all become quite good friends and so far, there is no one noted for being difficult. We consist of Bob from LA, the gregarious attorney for difficult torts with parted hair and the perfect meerschaum moustache; Mark, the anesthesiologist born in Lithuania but now from New York; Caesar, the wispy Asian American I haven’t yet spent much time with; Vince, who sold his company and now lives in Nevis, tall and thin, with vestiges of his native Tennessee in his accent; Ron and Chad, from DC, who remind me of Squirt and Spray, always perfectly dressed – I gather one of them is in medicine and the other works for the government but what medicine and which government remains a mystery I have not yet tackled; Dennis and David and me; and our leader, Andrew, whose wholesome and boyish demeanor make me want to call him “Sonny.” And there’s our local guide, Anil, an Indian from Delhi, who seems to be able to answer any question we ask and is highly qualified for this job, with a careful, almost stylized delivery in his English and a hand he holds out in a very awkward pose to emphasize his points. He has beautiful, rich, black hair just beginning to grow gray at the temples, and Jill Sander glasses but without rims. And then there’s Purum, whose function is unclear – perhaps he’s there to assist Anil with the logistics of our trip – all bashful and shy, with doe eyes I catch looking at me (and others) often.
Tomorrow it’s back to Delhi by bus and train, with stops along the way at what are billed as picturesque villages. We won’t arrive back at our hotel until close to midnight so it will be a very long day. Then comes the deluge: Agra, Jaipur, Udaipur. I’m having a good time; India is an incredible experience. Stay tuned.
Perfect description of Khajaraho.
ReplyDeleteIf you have a chance, go to The Imperial Hotel in Delhi. Check it out as it is so great looking and has a wonderful restaurant ( recently rated "one of the 10 best restaurants in the world "according to one of the travel magazines ). I believe it is called Spice or Spice Market . Or just peek in to see its nifty decor.
I also subscribe to Dennis's theory about the alien visit to Earth with blueprints and technology - but I think they came more than once, otherwise how did the Aztecs, the ancient Chinese and the Egyptians all come to entomb their ancestors similarly in valley walls and pyramids in their respective epochs - civilisations that could no way have contacted each other?
ReplyDeleteGlad India's working its magic - brace yourself, it only gets more colourful and Rajasthan will prove it.