Memories of winter

Source http://www.hindu.com/mp/2009/02/09/stories/2009020951040500.htm

Memories of winter

Himalayas Rishad Saam Mehta drives 2,000 km to find bliss in a land covered by snow, snow and more snow

Photos: Rishad Saam Mehta

Nature’s canvas Tani Jubbar Lake

I pulled open the curtains of my room at the Giri Ganga Resort at Kharapathar and was greeted by a winter wonderland. My high-decibel holler of happiness at seeing snowflakes falling must have woken up the entire Pabbar Valley.

We’d driven through the Pabbar Valley the day before and fretted and fumed about the fact that though the temperature was well below the 10 degrees C mark, it didn’t look like winter.

The mountainsides were brown and dull because all the grass and shrubs had been gobbled down by the livestock during their grazing after the rains.

The pines and other flora wore a coat of dust and even the snow-capped peaks that should have been our constant companion from Chakrata to Hatkoti and Kharapathar were hiding behind thick and solid cloud banks.

So, I was pretty peeved because we’d pointed the nose of the new Corolla Altis towards the north in faraway Mumbai and driven over 2,000 km to find some winter. The Altis, with its exciting and enthusiastic engine, was a complete mile-muncher. In fact, we made Ajmer during the first day of driving, which meant packing in 1100 km in a single driving day. But now, seeing the snowflakes fall, all the long hours at the wheel on this journey from the sea to the snow became worth it.

Snowball fight, anyone?

I know that my very vocal outburst of joy woke up the manager of the resort, who jumped out of his bed like a springbok who has sighted a lion.

He was at the reception heavy-eyed, with an aura of slumber still around his head when I raced there with all the enthusiasm and glee of a glutton at a free and unlimited buffet. He was also very grateful of the reception desk between him and me because he could see it from the fanatical look of pleasure on my face that I would have thrown the restraining shackles of courteous behaviour, grabbed and taken him out in the open and forced him to have a snowball fight with me to celebrate the first ice of the season.

I was so happy at the sight of snow. Clumsily staying beyond my clutching distance like a misaligned matador fighting a blundering bovine, he told me that the roads would be iced up and that I should wait till a few buses and cars passed so that the icy surface would be broken and provide some kind of grip to the tyres.

“Right now the car’s tyres will feel like ball bearings on glass” he warned.

The drive to Thanedar

We weren’t in any hurry to leave anyway, and outside the resort, everyday life went on as people trudged to work, some smiling in amusement at our happiness as we clicked photos of the car covered in ice, the snow-laden pine trees and the white hillsides.

The Corolla felt a little nervous as we started off from its overnight parking space because the road all around was covered with glass-like ice. Once we hit the tracks created by other cars, the going was easier.

Yet, gentleness was the order of the day. Momentum was the mantra because any sudden changes to speed or direction could send the car in a slide.

But then, thiswasn’t really my idea of fun behind the wheel. So, we strapped on the snow chains; then, I could show a little audacity on the white-washed roads.

Catching up over soup

From Kharapathar we decided to go to Thanedar because it definitely would have snowed there too as the little village of Thanedar is at quite a height. I also wanted to say hello to my good friend Prakash Thakur who runs a charming little resort there in the midst of apple orchards and snowy mountains.

Thanedar is by far my favourite place in the Himalayas and while we swapped stories and sipped the spicy hot soup that Sharmaji, the cook-cum-manager, had prepared, it continued to snow through the night.

Pretty sight

But we woke up to bright blue skies the next day and promptly headed out to the Tani Jubbar Lake, 8 km from Thanedar.

Though I have been here before, I have never seen it prettier. The lake reflected the bright blue sky and the snow all around. The air was invigorating because it was clean and crispy cold.

The Nag Devta temple looked a picture of piety with snow clinging to its slate roof and icicles beginning to form over its sides. Standing in the snow-covered lawn of the little hotel there, staring out at the icy peaks and drawing solace from a steaming cup of chai, I felt content and happy.

I had found the winter that I had been chasing for over 2000 km.

How to go

To get your fill of the winter or any season in the Himalayas head to Thanedar. For bookings, log on to www.banjaracamps.com

Magnificent ruins Pompeii

http://www.hindu.com/mp/2008/12/15/stories/2008121551090300.htm

Magnificent ruins

You feel a range of emotions in Pompeii, the great city reduced to rubble by a volcano, writes Chitra Srikrishna

Photos: K. Srikrishna

Amazement and despair At Pompeii

“Cave Canem” reads the Latin inscription on the floor. “It means beware of the dog,” exclaims my 10-year-old, reading from her pamphlet. We are at the entrance of the House of the Tragic Poet in the ruins of Pompeii outside Naples, Italy.

“Vedi Napoli e poi muori” (See Naples and die) is a popular saying. For my daughters, it was Naples’ dead neighbour Pompeii that mattered. History lessons that had described the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 AD and the subsequent destruction of Pompeii had brought the city vividly to life in their minds. The Roman senator, Pliny the Younger, has documented the events around Mt. Vesuvius’ eruption. Pliny’s writings are believed to be the only eye-witness account, and hence, amongst the most valuable recountings of Pompeii’s destruction.

Visiting the ruins in Pompeii was on the top of my daughters agenda even before we boarded our flight to Italy. Naples, the capital of the Campania region, is a little over two hours journey south of Rome. From there, we get on the circumvesuviana — the local train connecting cities around Mt. Vesuvius — and a short while later are at the Pompeii Scavi station. Within walking distance from the station is the entrance to the ruins of Pompeii.

Built with foresight

The ruins are far bigger than I had imagined. Cobbled streets, some in better condition than roads in India, are laid out in a grid pattern. Stepping stones, wide enough for pedestrians to cross over the streets and narrow enough for chariot wheels to pass over, are placed at intersections. This was helpful to Pompeii’s citizens as the roads were flooded each night to clean them. I cannot help being amazed at the foresight exhibited by the city planners 2,000 years ago.

According to my guidebook, the House of the Tragic Poet is not the biggest residence in Pompeii, but is by far the most impressive with the mosaics and fresco art that adorn its walls.

Vibrant paintings that are remarkably well preserved, decorate the walls. They depict scenes from Greek mythology. Many frescoes are of gods and goddesses and are interspersed with some that I consider too risqué for my children. The simplicity of the house belies the rich artwork found in it and the origin of its owner continues to intrigue historians.

We’ve spent nearly an hour at the tragic poet’s house when my husband announces, “Let’s see how the other half lived.” He shepherds us towards a big building whose owner must have clearly been well to do. The House of the Faun, a luxurious private home has numerous rooms, atriums and peristyles (columned porch) running around them. The statue of a dancing faun on top of the impulvium — a rectangular basin for catching rainwater, has my children captivated. “He reminds us of the sartyr in the Narnia chronicles!”

As I wander through the house, I come to the beautiful mosaic depicting Alexander the Great’s defeat of the Persian king Darius in battle. It is one of the few original art works left in place, unlike most of the other original sculptures and statues, including the eponymous faun, which have been housed in a museum in Naples.

Fulcrum of life

When we finally walk out of the House of the Faun, the afternoon heat strikes me like a blow. We head to the Forum. In all Roman cities the Forum served as the city centre around which political, religious and social life moved.The Forum at Pompeii is no exception, with temples of Jupiter and Apollo anchoring one side of a large open space and lined by ruins of colonnaded buildings on two other sides.

As I sit on a bench to rest my weary feet, I notice Mt. Vesuvius framing much of the horizon, a surreal backdrop to the ruins. Even as I try to imagine the day in 79AD, when the sleeping giant awoke, I hear a loud cry. It is from my daughters who have wandered away a little bit.

I drag myself to where they are and am shocked at the sight that greets me. The plaster cast of a human body lies in front of us, a poignant reminder of the tragedy. This is the moment that remains etched in my memory — I could imagine Pliny the Younger’s utter despair as he recorded the aftermath of the volcanic eruption.

Things to do

Comfortable walking shoes are a must. Also recommended are caps/hats, and water bottles, especially if you’re visiting in the summer. Read Richard Harris’ Pompeii, a well-paced novel set around the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius.

Cambridge diary

Source - http://www.hindu.com/mp/2008/12/15/stories/2008121551030200.htm

Cambridge diary

Whether it is the hallowed colleges with their famous students, or the architecture and art, Cambridge is definitely in the ‘places- to- see-before-I-die’ list, writes PANKAJA SRINIVASAN

Photos: pankaja srinivasan

FULL OF HISTORY Bridge over the River Cam

Cambridge is awe-inspiring. But, naturally. People such as Srinivasa Ramanujan, Charles Darwin, Samuel Pepys, John Milton, Christopher Marlowe, Coleridge and Ted Hughes have walked about here. Eighty three Nobel Prize winners have passed through the portals of Cambridge colleges, and god knows how many more are in-waiting.

There are some 31 colleges in Cambridge, many of them over 700 years old. Gonville and Caius, Corpus Christi, Magdalene, Trinity Hall and Christ’s are some of them.

And, it is thrilling how bits of history come alive every where you turn. Such as the mulberry tree, the very same one that provided shade to John Milton as he wrote his poetry!

You feel the presence of Henry the VIII, especially in the spectacular King’s chapel. The oak screen he presented still stands. And, above the doorway the elaborately entwined letters “H” and “A” for Henry and Anne Boleyn, obviously carved before she fell out of favour and was beheaded.

Trinity College, the colours of Autumn on Cambridge Roads, and Michaelhouse Cafe

Ancient and fabulous

The chapel’s fan vaulted ceiling, intricately carved and fashioned, and the stained glass windows depicting scenes from the Old and New Testament, said to be crafted by English and Flemish craftsmen, are fabulous. As is Ruben’s ‘Adoration of the Magi’ that hangs there in all its splendour. Henry VIII reappears at Trinity College on the Great Gate, clutching a wooden chair leg instead of the sceptre (students swapped it more than a hundred years ago).

This college has produced 31 Noble prize winners, and it was right here in Nevile Court that Issac Newton calculated the speed of sound. And, the famous chariot race scene in Ben Hur, was shot here too.

Not only in the colleges. Every gateway, spire, bridge and building you walk past has a history or an interesting story attached to it. Take the Cambridge University Press booksellers. The building in which it is housed is said to be on the site of the oldest bookshop in Britain (1581).

To market, to market

Follow your nose, and it will lead you to the marketplace. A huge square, this area is said to be the focal point of the city every since the Romans departed in 400 A.D. You can treat yourself to an amazing variety of breads, fruits, vegetables, flowers, wine and any number of keepsakes. Pick up hooded sweatshirts, with Cambridge University emblazoned across the chest, to impress folks back home!

And, whatever you do, don’t forget to peep into Michaelhouse Café.

A former Trinity College student of History, Bill Sewell, runs the café that is set inside a 14th Century church! Along with home-made scones, scrambled eggs, hazelnut muesli and cream tea, admire a stained glass window, a boat at the altar and, if you can, a gravestone in the gents toilet!

Student fare

The café, quite appropriately, has a “hungry student” cheap lunch offer too, that is described in the menu as ‘A plateful of fresh food for just three pounds, ninety five’. It also doubles up as an art gallery. What is extraordinary is that Sewell runs three other cafes around England and they are all located in working churches!

The Eagles pub, with messages scribbled on the ceiling by airmen during the Second World War, the world famous Fitzwilliam and the Kettle’s Yard museum, the Backs, (the area behind the colleges) at one time rudely referred to as ‘the backsides’, the old bridges and, of course, punting down the river Cam are some of the other ‘must dos’.

And, take your children along. It may inspire them to study there, and if they do, you can go back for another visit!

THE THIRD AGE

A wonderful, wonderful institution is the U3AC. It is the University of the Third Age in Cambridge. It is for those ‘no longer in full-time employment’ and there are, as such, no age-restrictions. The U3AC provides educational and social activities to all those who want to study subjects of their choice and at their own pace. The choice of subjects is large — art, art appreciation, computing, fitness, history, self management, philosophy and psychology, craft, linguistics, literature, mathematics, music, environment, economics, travel, writing and so on. Lectures are held regularly, and visits to museums, concerts, film screenings and travel within the country and abroad are regular features.

A land of idyll

SOURCE -http://www.hindu.com/mp/2008/12/08/stories/2008120850790300.htm

A land of idyll

Holiday Forests, waterfalls, a palace and even a tiger safari, Shimoga offers something for everyone

Nature’s bountyAt Jog Falls

Sparsely populated is not a word one associates with any part of the Indian sub-continent. Yet, driving to Agumbe, on the road that leads to Mangalore, those were the words that came to mind.

“Where have all the people gone?”- we asked ourselves. Rural Shimoga was identifiably Indian, yet curiously not. Bamboo groves, paddy fields, arecanut plantations followed one another, with an occasional small village that ended almost as soon as it began. Everywhere, there was an overdose of green.

Agumbe is known for its magnificent sunsets, word of which had lured us from our homestay, 60 km away, near Mandagadde village.

“The sunsets are superb; from the view-point, you can see all the way to the sea at Mangalore,” the husband told me excitedly, remembering what friends had told him.

Whether or not this was true, we could not say, for while the sunset was a spectacular explosion of light, the evening fog was heavy and did not allow us to see beyond a few hills in the distance.

For the devout, Tirthahalli (62 km from Shimoga town), is fairly close to Agumbe and home to the well-known Sri Rameshwara temple.

We got too late while returning from Agumbe to visit the temple, but did manage to verify that Tirthahalli serves up some fairly good road-side chaat!

We returned to our base at Mandagadde, where we were staying at the Inchara Homestay, a family-run place, with a few guest rooms on the home-and-plantation property. Inchara, we learnt, means the sound of birds, an apt name for a place where you can wake up to the raucous cries of peacocks and the sweet voices of other birds, unknown to city-dwellers.

Our hosts, Uncle Ramesh and Aunty Chandra allowed us to roam around their plantation and plied us with home-made food, including delectable kadabus, akki rotis and the distinctive beans-and-coconut curry native to this part of Karnataka.

Wild encounters

Mandagadde

In this pristine corner of the Western Ghats, walking around necessarily involves encounters with leeches and spider-webs larger than human arm-spans.

Mandagadde is known for its bird sanctuary, where migratory birds crossing to Europe are known to land. Sadly, September-end, when we visited, is not on their calendar.

Our local driver informed us that December and January is when they flock here. The sanctuary is small, but home to a lake where boat-rides are available. Seeing only a solitary bird in the distance, we decided to skip the ride and head on to Shimoga town instead, an hour’s drive away.

Driving in from the countryside, Shimoga’s arrival is something of a surprise. One moment you are driving through fabulous views of groves, fields and the backwaters of the Gajanur dam; the next minute, what appears to be a regular town with all its attendant noise is upon you.

While there, we called up a friend who belongs to the region, and mentioned that we were searching for the Shivappa Nayaka Palace, a visit our host had recommended. “Palace!” he exclaimed and burst into laughter.

This told us that the palace did not figure on most visitors’ agenda, something confirmed when we got there and realised that we were the only tourists at the time.

The word ‘palace’ may be too grand a name for what is essentially a two-storeyed wooden structure with inner courtyard and rooms; but, this 400-year old erstwhile princely home has been put to good use by the ASI and deserves more visitors. The palace and its spacious lawns have been converted into a museum housing a splendid collection of Hindu and Jain idols, found at different sites in Shimoga district.

Another attraction in Shimoga is the Tyarekoppa lion and tiger safari although the big cats look bored and inured to human society.

Shimoga district offers more, in a something-for-everyone kind of way; the well-known Jog falls continues to attract many tourists, while Honnemardu is for the new kind of Indian traveller — adventurous and physically active.

As for us, we boarded the train back to Bangalore, certain that we had not seen the last of this verdant land.

APARNA V. SINGH

FatehPur Sikri and Taj

Source

Expressions, impressions

Take in the sight of the Taj Mahal and Fatehpur Sikri on a wintry evening and return transfixed

Photos: Ashrafi S Bhagat

light and shade Fatehpur Sikri inspires awe at dusk; (below) the inlay works in the Taj Mahal

The grandeur, magnificence and majesty of Islamic monuments in India, particularly those built by the Mughals, have enchanted art lovers and connoisseurs alike.

One cannot deny the dynamism, vision and ingenuity of conception and structural technology which the Mughals brought to their architectural expressions.

Charming architecture

Although these monuments today attract international and domestic tourists, the charm and aura of their architecture can be truly experienced under certain weather and light conditions.

As a great lover of Islamic art and with frequent opportunities to travel North, I have visited these monuments during various times of the year.

In August or September; the oppressive weather after the rain makes it a physically uncomfortable experience. But in winter, particularly November, it is awesome to see and experience these monuments bathed in a haze of ephemeral shifting light.

Veiled in mist

Travelling to Agra, Fatehpur Sikri and Sikandra in November is singularly a unique experience. The city of the Taj is cold, misty and hazy, with the rising sun a golden ball of tame fire in the Eastern sky. With the monument in close proximity to the hotel, we decided to walk to the Taj. At seven in the morning, as we passed through the main gateway, the Taj Mahal stood resplendent in all its beauty, veiled like a bride in mist with the golden rays embracing her. A breathtaking and emotionally moving moment. Enhancing the visual experience was the comforting coolness, the light and the translucent marble exuding a romantic aura.

The white marble of the tomb, suffused in the morning light, was evocatively sensuous, enhancing the feminity that shines through the structure, including in its floral and geometric decorative inlays. As beautiful as the woman it holds within its bosom.

Embellishments

The decorative patterns in semi-precious stones, ‘pietra dura’, contain cornelian, agate, jasper, jade, malachite etc. These stones were selected with an eye for colours and tonal shades, and in a single flower — take a dahlia or a carnation — it is possible to see nuances of a shade like orange.

The character of the decoration also shows Shah Jahan to be a great lover of beauty. It is claimed that he had the eye to pick out the rarest of gems.

Moving beyond the pietra dura inlay decorating the walls and the cenotaph, one only needs to glance at the floor to see another form of decoration — the opus sectile. In this form of inlay, the material used is multi-hued marble, ranging from the purest white, to yellow, pink and green juxtaposed in intricate geometric and organic patterns.

While the details in the Taj inspire awe and delight, architecturally, the monument was conceived to be perfect, the only asymmetry being the cenotaph of Shah Jahan that lies off centre next to Mumtaz Mahal.

And this with a reason, since he had intended another monument for himself across the river Jamuna, in black marble — his son Aurangzeb did not allow this to happen.

If the Taj lingers in our memory as a poem chiselled in stone, Fatehpur Sikri (30 km from Agra), the capital city designed by Akbar, Shah Jahan’s grandfather, offers testimony to the great monarch’s pragmatic vision.

Bathed in light

We visited the city late in the evening, when the tourists were moving out, and the setting sun bathed the monument in glowing red, subdued only by the rising mist.

In the gradual fading winter light, it was easy to visualise the splendour of the great monarch’s court, coming alive with Tansen’s soulful music on the Anup Talao, the gentle rhythm of the dancer’s anklets or the teasing evening breeze blowing across the red sandstone ridge.

As dusk settled, the monuments, with their domed pinnacles and pyramidal roofs, rose like guardian sentinels against the sky.

ASHRAFI S. BHAGAT

Chennai Musuem II

Source

Stone lends itself to delicate work

PRADEEP CHAKRAVARTHY

The Government Museum has several stone sculptures which are of great importance, architecturally and historically.

(This is the second of a five-part series on the Government Museum, Chennai.)

The Indian tradition has always been known to reserve the best for the divine. References to ancient temples and palaces in works such as the Silappadikaram show that they were predominantly brick, wood and stucco structures elaborately painted and c arved. The Pallavas (600-850 A.D.) were not content with such transient buildings and chose a more permanent material for their construction – stone.

Found in abundance in most parts of Tamil Nadu except in the Thanjavur belt, granite and sandstone became the preferred mediums.

Cave temples were the first attempt and they morphed into free standing monolith temples such as those in Mahabalipuram. These in turn gave way to full scale stone structures. The trajectory of the bronzes applies here too. Chola (850-1350 A.D.) temples, except for Brihadeswara, Gangaikonda Cholapuram and Thribhuvanam, were modest but delicately crafted structures.

PHOTOS: S. Thanthoni

Poetry: Samples from the gallery — (from left) Vijayanagar crest, Bikshatanamurti-Mahishasuramardini and a section of the Amaravati stupa.

Nayak vintage

The Vijayanagar Nayaks (1350–1600 A.D.) made up in quantity what they lacked in quality. Nayak stone work is massive and gigantic.

Think of the tallest gopurams in Tamil Nadu that stand as gateways to large and complexly planned out temples, be they in Thiruvannamalai, Kanchipuram, Madurai or Srivilliputtur, they are all of Nayak vintage. Royal buildings continued to be built in perishable material and none have survived.

But the stone carving tradition continued though the figures lacked the realism of the Chola/Pallava/Pandya periods. Great attention was paid to the ornamentation but the features of the face were angular and stern in nature.

The gallery of stone artefacts at the Government Museum has many important pieces such as stone antiquities from the Amravati excavations of Guntur, Andhra Pradesh. The early Buddhist sculptures date back to about 200 B.C. to 250 A.D., and that of the Jain and Hindu ones from about 600 A.D. to recent times.

The Amaravati findings

Among the stone sculptures, those from Amaravati are of importance. Amaravati was an important Buddhist settlement on the banks of the Krishna.

The buildings, particularly a ruined stupa, were documented by the British in 1801. From then on, most of the important stone sculptures and panels were removed from there and brought to the Madras Museum or taken to London. The collection in the museum numbers to around 300 pieces and it depicts the development and progressive finesse of Buddhist sculpture from 200B.C. to 250 A.D.

There are over 600 specimens of stone sculptures belonging to the period from about 600 A.D. to recent times in the section. Of these, about 50 are Jain, about 25 memorial or hero stones, about a dozen Buddhist figures and about 10 snake stones. The rest are of Hindu deities. Several artefacts also have inscriptions on them that make them invaluable from the historical point of view.

The collection includes a group of door lintels that date from the 13th century. They have fine bas reliefs of auspicious signs that include the ashtamangalas. The hero stones are also worthy of mention for their finesse.

The Museum is open from 9.30 a.m.-5 p.m. It is closed on Fridays and national

holidays. For more information, visit www.chennaimuseum.org/

Chennai Musuem II

Source

Stone lends itself to delicate work

PRADEEP CHAKRAVARTHY

The Government Museum has several stone sculptures which are of great importance, architecturally and historically.

(This is the second of a five-part series on the Government Museum, Chennai.)

The Indian tradition has always been known to reserve the best for the divine. References to ancient temples and palaces in works such as the Silappadikaram show that they were predominantly brick, wood and stucco structures elaborately painted and c arved. The Pallavas (600-850 A.D.) were not content with such transient buildings and chose a more permanent material for their construction – stone.

Found in abundance in most parts of Tamil Nadu except in the Thanjavur belt, granite and sandstone became the preferred mediums.

Cave temples were the first attempt and they morphed into free standing monolith temples such as those in Mahabalipuram. These in turn gave way to full scale stone structures. The trajectory of the bronzes applies here too. Chola (850-1350 A.D.) temples, except for Brihadeswara, Gangaikonda Cholapuram and Thribhuvanam, were modest but delicately crafted structures.

PHOTOS: S. Thanthoni

Poetry: Samples from the gallery — (from left) Vijayanagar crest, Bikshatanamurti-Mahishasuramardini and a section of the Amaravati stupa.

Nayak vintage

The Vijayanagar Nayaks (1350–1600 A.D.) made up in quantity what they lacked in quality. Nayak stone work is massive and gigantic.

Think of the tallest gopurams in Tamil Nadu that stand as gateways to large and complexly planned out temples, be they in Thiruvannamalai, Kanchipuram, Madurai or Srivilliputtur, they are all of Nayak vintage. Royal buildings continued to be built in perishable material and none have survived.

But the stone carving tradition continued though the figures lacked the realism of the Chola/Pallava/Pandya periods. Great attention was paid to the ornamentation but the features of the face were angular and stern in nature.

The gallery of stone artefacts at the Government Museum has many important pieces such as stone antiquities from the Amravati excavations of Guntur, Andhra Pradesh. The early Buddhist sculptures date back to about 200 B.C. to 250 A.D., and that of the Jain and Hindu ones from about 600 A.D. to recent times.

The Amaravati findings

Among the stone sculptures, those from Amaravati are of importance. Amaravati was an important Buddhist settlement on the banks of the Krishna.

The buildings, particularly a ruined stupa, were documented by the British in 1801. From then on, most of the important stone sculptures and panels were removed from there and brought to the Madras Museum or taken to London. The collection in the museum numbers to around 300 pieces and it depicts the development and progressive finesse of Buddhist sculpture from 200B.C. to 250 A.D.

There are over 600 specimens of stone sculptures belonging to the period from about 600 A.D. to recent times in the section. Of these, about 50 are Jain, about 25 memorial or hero stones, about a dozen Buddhist figures and about 10 snake stones. The rest are of Hindu deities. Several artefacts also have inscriptions on them that make them invaluable from the historical point of view.

The collection includes a group of door lintels that date from the 13th century. They have fine bas reliefs of auspicious signs that include the ashtamangalas. The hero stones are also worthy of mention for their finesse.

The Museum is open from 9.30 a.m.-5 p.m. It is closed on Fridays and national

holidays. For more information, visit www.chennaimuseum.org/

History in Bronze

SOURCE

History in bronze

PRADEEP CHAKRAVARTHY

The gallery at the Government Museum boasts a fascinating array of artefacts from across the country.

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The earliest bronze in Tamil Nadu dates back to 5th century B.C. and was found in a small village called Adhichanallur.

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PHOTOS: S. THANTHONI & courtesy The Government Museum

TIMELESS beauty: The museum and some of the icons on display (below).

(This is the first of a five-part series on the Government Museum, Chennai.)

Going past Pantheon Road, Chennai, whether it is to the railway station or for a shopping trip, it is hard to not admire the stately museum buildings that can be seen even better now thanks to the flyover!

Set up in 1851, the Government Museum Government Museum or the Central Museum is one of the oldest in India. It has relics from as early as 2nd Century B.C. and is home to a fascinating and rich collection of artefacts not just from Tamil Nadu but from South India and India itself.

Started in Fort St George in 1851, it first had a collection of geological specimen. By 1853, it had several more specimen and in 1854, moved to its present premises in Pantheon Road (named after the Pantheon/public assembly rooms). The current buildings date to circa 1896.

The best buildings in the campus are the Museum Theatre, the Connemara Library and the National Art Gallery. The buildings, designed by Henry Irwin and built by Namberumal Chetty, are inspired by Italian architecture except the Art Gallery (not in use now) that is inspired by Akbar’s Buland Darwaza in Fatehpur Sikri. The art gallery was originally intended for use by the Victoria Technical Institute and came to the use of the Museum from 1951.

The museum has eight sections. The Bronze Gallery is one of the best known and probably the most modern after international standard design techniques were used. The bronzes number more than 1,200 though only a fraction is displayed. The bronzes in the museum were meant for worship in Hindu temples. Many bronzes are also Buddhist or Jain and some are in the ‘folk style’ meant for worship in humbler village temples.

The earliest bronze in Tamil Nadu dates back to 5th century B.C. and was found in a small village called Adhichanallur near Tirunelveli. The figurine of the mother goddess is a crude one but this was a precursor to the life-like images that are internationally renowned today.

Made by the lost wax process, the crafting of icons requires great skill and patience. Early South Indian bronzes tend to be simple and spare in ornamentation. The golden age of bronzes was the 11-13th centuries when the dynasties, especially the Cholas, embarked on massive temple building projects. Increasing power of the temples meant an increase in temple rituals and the stationary main deity was soon competing in religious devotion with the processional deity made of bronze.

Excessive ornamentation

Images from the Chola period became bigger, more lifelike and exquisitely formed. The boon soon became a bane, for later Chola pieces became more ‘template-ised’ since demand began to outstrip supply. The hiatus that intervened between the 14th and 16th centuries saw resurgence in the Vijayanagar and Nayak regimes when temple building and re-consecration became important once again. Images now however gained in the excessive ornamentation but lost the lissomness of the past.

Most of us normally associate bronzes only with Hinduism, while bronzes of the Hindu deities are the most prolific, at a time when Jainism and Buddhism were important religions in India, monasteries and devotees of these religions too commissioned bronzes of great beauty for worship. The museum has more than a dozen bronzes in this group. They date from 3rd century A.D. to 16th century A.D. with most of the bronzes dating from 12th century.

The images of Buddha are usually standing, with the great teacher holding his two hands in the abhaya (offering protection) and varadha (granting boons) mudras. One rare image has the Buddha in the kataka mudra indicating the holding of a flower. Given the size of these images and the rings in the pedestal that were meant to secure the image to a base, they must have been used in processions. It is also significant that many of the images were discovered in and around Nagapattinam.

The Jain images show the Thirthankara. Some of them are seated in front of a prabhavali that has chamara (flywhisk) bearers or the Makara (a beast that symbolises fearlessness). There are four Thirthankaras and they can be identified by a symbol usually on the right side of the pedestal. The Jain images date between the 11-13th centuries.

Among the hundred Hindu images, those of Nataraja and Somaskanda are more well-known. The gallery has several fine images of Parvati as well. A particularly beautiful one is from Thiruvengimalai dated from 11th century. It shows Parvati in the characteristic Thribhanga pose but her left hand is gracefully resting on the head of an attendant who carries a casket. The detailing of the ornaments and the folds of textile are superb as are the calm facial expressions of the figures. An unusual 14th century copper image of a sage seated on a tiger trampling on a demon with one foot has an inscription that identifies it as that of Vishnu’s incarnation as a dwarf Vamana.

The collection on display in this gallery is rotated on a periodic basis and there is an excellent illustrated guide available that was published in 2003.

The Taj

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A monument to love – Mumbai’s Taj Mahal

Russi M. Lala

A horrific terrorist attack has ravaged one of Mumbai’s most-loved symbols and taken the lives of many of its dedicated staff. This heritage hotel was not started as a commercial venture. It was Jamsetji Tata’s gift to the city he loved — as the Taj Mahal of Agra was Shah Jahan’s memorial to the woman he loved.

MUMBAI'S PRIDE: Before the Gateway of India was built, the Taj Mahal offered the first view of the city of Bombay to ships sailing into the harbour. Even now, with many more tall buildings on the skyline, the hotel engages immediate attention.

The 1880s and 1890s were a time of great construction in Bombay. The Grand Victoria Terminus was built, and after it the Municipal Corporation building, another beautiful structure, followed by the Churchgate headquarters of the B.B. & C.I. Railways (now Western Railways). But there was no hotel worthy of the growing city.

Being an ardent fan of Mark Twain, Jamsetji Tata may have read of the writer’s fate in the so-called ‘best’ Watson’s Hotel: Mark Twain and his family were roused every morning at dawn by doors slamming, servants shouting, and “fiendish bursts of laughter, explosions of dynamite.” The Irish chef at the hotel was apparently more conversant with the French language that with French cooking, “serving up Irish stew on 14 occasions under 14 different French names.” Sir Stanley Reed, Editor of The Times of India, said Jamsetji had an intense pride and affection for the city of his birth, and when a friend protested against the intense discomforts of hotel life in Bombay, he growled: “I will build one.”

One day without consulting anybody, not even his sons or partners, he announced his plan to build a grand hotel. It was his personal contribution and money he was putting in — not that of Tata & Sons. Along the present Yacht Club at Apollo Bunder was a little bay where yachts used to scull. The British were reclaiming the land and he bought a substantial site of two-and-a-half acres on November 1, 1898 on a 99-year lease. There was no formal laying of a foundation stone but a traditional coconut was broken and a Parsi diva (oil lamp) was lit, perhaps by the well or spring between the present swimming pool and the lifts. This ceremony took place in 1900.

Many an interesting story is invented round the Taj being designed by an Italian/French architect who, after his exertions, went home and returned to find the building was put the wrong way around — what should have been in the rear was in front and vise versa. Heartbroken he went to the top floor of the Taj and flung himself out of the window. Dramatic! Touching! But not true. As anyone who stayed at the then-non-air-conditioned Taj in the summer would attest, the late afternoon breezes that blow across Colaba do not spring up from the harbour but sweep in from across Back Bay. The U-shaped wings of the hotel were positioned to trap this breeze and extract the most benefit.

Indeed, the necessity to draw whatever relief there might be from the torrid heat of western India was certainly the inspiration behind the hotel’s two most original features. At the time, the clientele Jamsetji expected was from abroad and his endeavour was to make the hotel as cool as possible. Thus it had high ceilings and wide corridors, which would be conducive to air circulation. Furthermore, the Wellington Mews — another property Jamsetji bought — behind the hotel site was where the horses and carriages were housed and these could roll in directly from the west side.

One convincing explanation comes from the daughter of a Goan customs officer, Francis Xavier D’Mello, who was stationed in the customs shed at Apollo Bunder and witnessed the Taj rising stone by stone: “Jamsetji Tata came regularly to watch his great hotel being built. The customs shed provided the only shelter from the blazing sun, so Mr. Tata used to come there and have long chats with my father. Once my father asked him why he had put the entrance to the Taj at the back, and Jamsetji told him that he wanted the majority of his hotel guests to have rooms overlooking the sea. Jamsetji surely had some hand in his broad instructions to the architect.”

Sadly, having designed the Taj along with a Parsi architect under Jamsetji’s instructions, Sitaram died of malaria. The dome designed on the model of the Victoria Terminus (now Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus) had not been built. W.A. Chambers was called to help. Khansahib Sorabji Contractor built the solid structure.

The prospectus for the hotel to be underlined some salient features: “The Hotel, when completed, will be five storeys high, and will accommodate, beside hotel boarders to the number of 500, a number of permanent residents. Immense cellars, below the ground floor level will contain the refrigeration plant, which will cool the rooms of the inmates, and will also enable their food to be stored in a manner foreign to India. The ground floor will be occupied by the offices, first-class restaurants, and shops for the sale of articles generally desired by travellers. The first floor will be mostly taken up with a grand dining room, drawing room, reading rooms, billiard room, and a few grand suites, all provided with electric fans. The second, third, fourth and fifth floors will contain bedrooms, mostly double and furnished in the Continental style with sofa, tables and chairs, and other furniture, and on each floor bathrooms and lavatories. The kitchens etc., will be on the top of the house with a roof garden. The Hotel will be lighted throughout with electric lights, and many lifts, also worked by electricity, will convey residents from floor to floor with comfort. A Turkish bath will also be fitted up in the Hotel.”

Jamsetji personally went to order the electrical machinery from Dusseldorf and chandeliers from Berlin. Furthermore, he made sure that if by chance electricity failed, a back up system of gas lights was at hand. There was the in-house soda bottling plant, an electric laundry, fans from the USA — and the first spun-steel pillars from the Paris Exhibition where the Eiffel Tower was then the latest wonder of the world. These pillars, a hundred years later, hold up the ceiling of the Banquet Hall.

For all his projects Jamsetji got the costing done thoroughly but not for the Taj. It was his gift to the city he loved — as the Taj Mahal of Agra was Shah Jahan’s memorial to the woman he loved. It cost about Rs. 25 lakh. When the hotel opened, it had a large staff of waiters but only seven guests. It was Bombay’s first public building to be lit by electricity and when it happened, those present outside clapped as they saw it lit.

As if such a grand edifice was not enough, he purchased two small islands near Uran called Panjoo and Dongri so that the guests at the Taj could go on picnics.

Jamsetji wanted to lease out the Taj to an experienced European hotelier. The plans fell through and finding the staff and running the hotel was to fall initially on him in 1902 and later on his partners and colleagues. The Gateway of India came up only in 1924 to commemorate the visit of King Emperor George V and Queen Mary in 1911. Before that at the Gateway site, sahibs used to sit at tables sipping burra and chotta pegs.

Perhaps, says Allen and Dwivedi (who have done research on the Taj), Jamsetji believed in starting a new venture on an auspicious date, Muhurat as it is called. It was decided to open the hotel on December 16, 1903, before the building was complete. Only one wing was ready and the dome had not been completed. A study of Jamsetji’s medical reports of the late-1903 shows his health was deteriorating. His sons and colleagues may have decided to speed up the opening so he could have the satisfaction of seeing at least one of his dreams come true. Steel, the hydro-electric venture, and the Indian Institute of Science came up after his death.

Five months after the Muhurat, when Jamsetji died, a leading journal of Calcutta, The Empress, wrote in the obituary: “The new hotel represented, to Mr. Tata, something more than a mere commercial venture, and he had determined that the Taj Mahal Hotel should set an example, which should re-act throughout India, in removing one of the greatest hindrances to agreeable travel in this country. The plans were drawn with the sole purpose of securing an entirely worthy building, and he looked for no immediate financial returns. There is something peculiarly saddening in the coincidence that the fixing of the key-stone of the noble dome should have preceded, but only a few days, the death of the man who inspired it.”

The lives of the clientele, which was mainly British, revolved round news from home. The P. & O. brought the mail every Friday morning and left every Saturday evening. The London GPO’s largest single destination was mail for India. It was rushed from London, sorted out between Aden and Bombay and special bags delivered within an hour of the arrival of the steamer. Saturday was spent in answering letters. The Sea Lounge at the Taj was created as a letter-writing room and by special arrangement mail from the Taj was directly delivered to the ship.

In years to come, world-renowned personalities have stayed there, from Somerset Maugham and Duke Ellington to Lord Mountbatten and Bill Clinton. The hotel was featured in a hundred books, including Louis Bromfield’s One Night in Bombay, which is centred on the Taj.

The maharajas become the great patrons of the Taj and invited the hotel to do special catering in their states. The Chamber of Princes was to meet there regularly every January — hence the ‘Princes’ Room’ at the southern end of the Taj. The business maharajas were to follow next; today the Taj is the most sought after venue for wedding receptions, and one can frequently see fire crackers being let off at the gate as the bridegroom’s party dances merrily away.

As there was no Gateway of India for 20 years after the Taj came up, the hotel offered the first view of the city to ships sailing into the harbour until 1924. Even now, with many more tall buildings on the skyline, the hotel engages immediate attention. It is a symbol of Mumbai.

(Russi M. Lala is the author of For the Love of India — The Life and Times of Jamsetji Tata. He lives near the Taj Mahal and even closer to Nariman House.)

Chidambaram Kovil

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By Anupama Bhattacharya
Photographs: Gireesh G.V.

I saw cascades of energy coming down from outer space, in which particles were destroyed and created in rhythmic pulses; I saw the atoms of the elements and those of my body participating in this cosmic dance of energy; I felt its rhythm and I heard its sound, and at that moment I knew that this was the Dance of Shiva, the Lord of Dancers.
—Fritjof Capra, Tao of Physics

Chidambaram, the heart of the universe (chit-heart, ambaram-universe), is where Shiva, manifesting as Nataraja, one of the trinity of Hindu deities, performs the cosmic dance. It is also the heart of a world that is a manifestation of purusha, the eternal, cosmic man.

As you approach the Nataraja temple in this quaint town of Tamil Nadu, 250 km south of Chennai in southern India, you are taken aback by four gigantic towers (135 ft) with seven storeys that guard it on four sides. The architecture inside is no less fascinating. Rows after rows of pillars with intricate carvings, surrounded by 10 sacred pools, seem to create an ambiance of space—vast, limitless. You are drawn in, deeper and deeper, until you stand at the center of the universe, facing Nataraja, the creator, the destroyer, the keeper.

The shrine is spread over an area of 51 acres and houses a rare crystal lingam. There is also a Ratnasabhapati Nataraja made of gems, rubies, emerald and stone. The main shrine or the Chitrambalam (also known as Chit Sabha) is the place where Nataraja dances the tandava of creation, destruction, grace, dissolution and blessing.

According to mythology, Shiva first performed Ananda Tandava (the dance of bliss), to enlighten some sages who had been so immersed in their scholasticism that they had forgotten the existence of God. This Ananda Tandava was later revealed at the Jnana Sabha, one of the shrines of Chidambaram. Myth has it that, at a particular time every year, Shiva still performs the dance here. At first glance, the statue of Nataraja is like any other classic piece of art—graceful and eye-catching. The beauty begins to unfold, layer by layer, as the magnificence of creation and the wonder of destruction are understood. Nataraja symbolizes the ultimate reality that is eternally molding this world of maya or illusion, creating myriad nebulae with the beat of a drum and destroying a mega-universe with a graceful turn of the finger. The dance of Shiva is the dancing universe, the ceaseless flow of energy that mingles and meanders into the infinite cosmic soul. It is the dance of sub-atomic particles—the building blocks of creation. Here, the Ardhanarishwar Shiva, symbolized by a male earring in the left and a female earring in the right ear, blends the yin and the yang and transcends them.

This transcendence is mirrored in the ultimate balance of Nataraja. As the upper right hand, holding a drum, strikes the primal sound, nebulae after nebulae shoot out from the dancing form, stars are born and shaped, and the first seeds of life germinate in the cosmic cradle, waiting to bloom. The right lower hand showers blessings on the blossoming creation, asking it to arise and understand its purpose. With knowledge comes truth and Nataraja crushes Mulayaka, ignorance manifest, with his right foot—his left lower hand pointing at his raised left foot, defying the law of gravity, symbolic of liberation, moksha. With life, death can't be far behind. The awakening is now symbolized by a deluge of fire leaping out from his left upper hand, devouring the trembling cosmos with licking tongues of flame. One by one stars die, burning suns extinguish their lights. In the eternal darkness, Shiva unties his matted hair and dances the tandava, trampling upon the entire universe—a raging, raving force demolishing existence. Destruction was never so beautiful.

In the final silence, when there is neither existence nor non-existence, enlightenment dawns. Free at last from the fetters of delusion, Nataraja dances the Ananda Tanndava, the ultimate dance of joy. The primal sound of the drum echoes again, a tiny spark bursts into a star. Another universe is born. The cycle repeats itself. And Nataraja, blissful in the ecstasy of existence, dances to eternity.

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Scene of mighty confluence

PILGRIMAGE The contrast in colours is striking — the green-blue Bhagirati mingling with the muddy brown Alakananda. RUPA GOPAL

Photos: Rupa Gopal

Mighty Himalayan Rivers: At Devprayag, (and below) the confluence of Bhagirati and Alakananda.

The Ganga flows down the Himalayas, forming five major confluences along the way —Vishnuprayag (Alakananda and Dhauli ganga), Nandaprayag, (Alakananda and Nandakini), Karnaprayag (Alakananda and Pindar), Rudraprayag (Alakananda and Mandakini), and lastly, Devprayag.

At about 2,550 ft. above mean sea level is located Devprayag, the holy confluence of the Bhagirati with Alakananda — mighty rivers journeying down the Himalayas, joining to become the Ganga. In keeping with the mystique of the Himalayas, the Bhagirati is a deep green blue, its waters rushing impatiently to join the serene, muddy brown Alakananda.

Contrast in colour

The contrast in colours is striking, with the hill of Devprayag rising above, dotted with small buildings. The temple of Raghunathji is high above, reached on foot by crossing the bridge over the river, from across the highway, and then climbing up narrow lanes.

Said to be over 10,000 years old, the temple overlooks the confluence, or Prayag, from high above, with steps leading down to Brahmakund, where religious austerities are performed in the swirling waters. Vasishtkund is located further away.

A black granite idol of Rama is housed in the main shrine, while Hanuman, Sankaracharya , Garuda and Annapurna have smaller shrines in the compound. Both Rama and Dasaratha had undertaken penance at Devprayag, Rama to atone for the killing of Ravana.

Temple to Bharata

Dasarathshila is located elsewhere in the village, near a tiny rivulet called Shanta, named after the foster daughter of the king. A small ancient temple to Bharata is also found nearby.

The Rama temple walls bear inscriptions not deciphered. A throne-like stone seat is where Rama sat, says temple lore. The original Lakshman jhoola, the bridge across the Ganga, is thought to be here at Devprayag, and not at Rishikesh. Located about 70 km from Rishikesh, Devprayag has beautiful scenery — vistas that have probably remained unchanged over time, a time when gods are said to have walked our blessed land.

Varahur

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Photos: M.Srinath

Much awaited: The uriyadi poles are getting ready at Sri Venkatesa Perumal temple, Varahur.

Come Krishna Jayanti, it is time for Uriyadi at Sri Venkatesa Perumal Temple at Varahur, 30 km from Thanjavur. This year the festival falls on August 23 and Uriyadi Thirunal is being held on the night of August 24 to continue till Monday morning. But the festival itself is already under way.

On Sunday, August 17, an Uriyadi pole — three long strong bamboo poles tied together —was fixed on the ground in front of the temple. Devotees throng to have darshan of the deity decorated in various forms such as Venugopala, Kalinganarthanar, Uriyadi Krishnar and so on.

Varahur is said to be the village where composer Narayana Theerthar arrived after being led by a wild boar. The deity of the temple cured the poet of an acute stomach ache and a grateful Tirtha with the Lord’s blessings composed Sri Krishna Leela Tharangini. Krishna actually danced to the tune, legend goes.

It was Tirtha who started the tradition of Uriyadi and it has continued. On Uriyadi Thirunal, a packet of prasadam is put in a mud pot and hoisted upon the pole. Another pole smeared with oil, called Vazhukkumaram, is fixed near the pole. Contestant should climb the slippery pole to snatch the packet. The event is based on the philosophy that man has to strive hard to attain the grace of God.

On the morning of Uriyadi thirunal, the Utsavar is decorated as Balakrishna holding a pot of butter — Vennaithazhi alankaram — and taken to Karungal mandapam. At midnight, the deity decorated as Yuva Krishna is taken towards the pole to the accompaniment of the nagaswaram and Tharangini bhajans. The idol is placed in a specially erected pandal. A person from Yadav clan of the village, dressed as cowherd strikes the Uri mathalam (package of eatables) to signal the commencement of Uriadithal.

Temples near Badrinath

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Forty-four kms and a travel time of 2 and a half hours before Badrinath, is Joshimutt (6,150 ft. above sea level). Protected by the majestic peaks of Trishul in the south, Kamat in the north, and the holy peaks of Badri in the north-west, Joshimutt thrills the pilgrim with its unique location, colours and antiquity. Reaching it energises one and heightens devotion for the road-weary pilgrim. The gate system along the highway necessitates a halt here, and ahead at Pandukeshwar, to regulate traffic.

Narasimha Badri is located here, the place perhaps originally referred to as Jyotirmutt, where Adi Sankara gained enlightenment. It is one of the four mutts established by him and Adi Sankara wrote his Sri Bhashyam here. A 2,400-year-old kalpavriksha associated with the great spiritual leader stands at Joshimutt.

The Narasimha temple has a saligrama idol installed by Adi Sankara, and a shrine to Vasudeva. Legend states that the left wrist of the idol is getting thinner by the day, and that at the end of Kaliyuga the hand will break off.

This will then trigger off the fall of the mountains, Jaya and Vijaya, near Vishnu Prayag, and block the way to the present Badrinath temple. So the lord will then be worshipped only at Bhavishya Badri, 23 kms from Joshimutt.

The ski resort of Auli, (16 kms away) makes Joshimutt a holiday spot as well, a ropeway and road connecting the scenic spot. Hemkund Sahib and the Valley of Flowers are also accessible from here.

Tiny village

The Kubera one at Panduskeshwar.

Pandukeshwar (6300 ft. above sea level) is 4 kms from Vishnu Prayag, on the road to Badri. It is a tiny little village clinging to the mighty Himalayas.

A steep path down from the road enters the hamlet and goes on and on, till finally one sees the small temple, built in local style. Two shrines house Vishnu in a meditative posture, and Vasudeva with a commanding presence. The temple and the idols are said to have been established by the Pandavas, in memory of their father Pandu, who spent his last years here at Pandukeshwar, worshipping Maha Vishnu. A lingam studded with the nine gems is buried under the idol of Narayana, says the priest.

The Pandavas renounced all worldly attachment here, and handed over Hastinapur to King Parikshit. From here they moved upwards towards Badri, Mana, Alakapuri (the birthplace of the Alakananda) and beyond, ascending a peak to the heavens, the eventful peak being Swargarohini. Ultimately, it was only Yudhishtir who ascended the heavens, in human form.

Hanuman Chatti lies nearby, in the Gandhamadana hills. Bhima and Hanuman had a contest of strength here, with a disguised Hanuman lying across the path of Bhima, challenging him to lift his tail. Bhima then realised it was Hanuman, his brother.

Redolent with legends, Pandukeshwar is further sanctified by being the winter abode of worship, when the Badri temple is closed for six months. The idol of Uddhava is brought down to Pandukeshwar, and worship continues till May, when the idol is ceremoniously carried back to Badri. The only temple to Kubera stands near the main temple, making Pandukeshwar even more unique.

The climb back to the road from the temple is very steep and has to be done rapidly, before the gate opens to allow the traffic. The effort is certainly memorable as visiting Badrinath would be incomplete without seeing these two holy shrines.