Yogic chants float in through the open shutters, the cadences straining through the floating white cotton. The chanting is joining the preparations. The night is ending and the day will start. The chant now doubles. Two sets of voices. A very slight delay moves the sounds between harmony and echo, a subtle sound that I am aware of but cannot catch, like listening to the ticking of two clocks.Read More
As well as the carvings on the exterior walls, the pillars inside the temple - which hold up its roof - are breathtaking in their design and individuality - no two are alike. The dark and cool interior offers a refuge from the spring sunshine, yet looking out, through the passage, the glossy blackness of the interior sucks the daylight into the shrine....
.... one can still be impressed by the craftsmanship and marvel at the intricacy of the carvings. For the Hindu family this is the perfect place where stories can be passed on, where the imagery will reinforce the moral of the tale, and where, as the child grows up, all of life is laid before them, including the demands of adulthood - at a height of six foot.
As we approached the top I was struck not by the climb that those regularly coming for prayer and supplication must make but the fact that the buildings were constructed here at all with tools and supplies having to be brought up.
So, already duly reverential, seeing the monolith in its fullness could be said to be almost sublime. Despite its size, even close to it has a stillness and calmness that is tangible. A mixture of awe and peace floats in the air and there is nothing to do but to look...Read More
This wonderful building was defined against the night sky by the light from over 98000 light bulbs, and in the warm Sunday evening air people from all over gather together to enjoy the spectacle. Families play with light balls, throwing them in the air and trying to catch them before they roll away under hundreds of feet; young lovers stand with their back to the palace, mobile phone at arms length for that all important selfie, and all of us just rejoice in the brilliance all around us.Read More
A drive up the Chamundi hills, a dozen kilometres out of town, gives the traveller a good view of the city and the surrounding countryside. At the top of the hill stands the colourful, giant statue of Mahishasura, sword in one hand, serpent in the other. Here is the site of another tale, one where the demon Mahishasura was slain by the goddess Durga. His statue stands proud and colourful, but I wonder why it is him not Durga who is here?Read More
He is holding her hand. His long middle finger curves over the back of her hand; the second and fifth are bent so that the tips gently brush or rest on her thumb and wrist respectively. His grip is loose yet firm, enveloping her palm but allowing her fingers to be free, to caress the space between his thumb and first finger. Around his wrist, three bangles; around hers a wide bracelet. Shorter than he, she stands demure but no less sure; slender waist and bare breasts symbols of femininity and surety without being provocative or sexual. He stands firm without being domineering even though he is aware of his power. His broad shoulders are reminders of that power, not threatening, but as she just is, so he just is.Read More
Those who weave and sew the flowers are more than happy to show off their work, proud of the quality that they can produce from just the fingers and little else. Fingers move swiftly, sewing blossom with strips of raffia or lengths of fine straw, weaving in coloured disks of card and paper, small beads and ribbon. At one stall a group of women are sitting on the floor, their legs stretched out in front of them, their bare feet, with ringed toes, crossed.Read More
The Meenakshi Temple in so many ways demands superlatives. The splendid precinct, the towering gateways, the colourful statues and the vibrant life - all are breathtaking. Alas, the distracting thing is its transformation from temple to attraction. Meenakshi is one of only a small number of occasions when I am very aware of the throng of tourists.Read More
As we walk barefoot around the temple, our right shoulders to the building, because the left side is not as respectful, Lakshmi regales us with stories about a few of the multitude of gods of the Hindu faith. Shiva, to whom Mylapore temple is dedicated is the god of destruction. When Shiva dances, all is destroyed. To Western minds this concept may seem negative, but from destruction come new beginnings. After Shiva has danced, the only thing that remains is the skull he holds in his hand, from which will come renewal and rebirth.Read More
We have been invited to visit the home of one of the priests from the temple so that we may see a ‘typical’ house and gain some insight into domestic arrangements. On the way we pass a beautiful woman selling flowers...Read More
Their stories will follow us around and will change at each chapter. Nothing is certain about a religion with 300 million gods. “No. 330 million gods!” “Oh no. 340 million!” “No, no no. You've all got it wrong. Three gods. Several million avatars.” Well, whatever the number, the stories are infinite and various.Read More
The standing around is a blend of the tedious mixed with anticipation, like waiting in the wings of a theatre, early and eager for my cue, before being allowed on stage for my first, very small part in a very large play.Read More