Travel - India;Tamil Nadu's Stone Temples (G.Read)

Edward Wong

THE god was ready for his night of conjugal bliss. The priests of the temple, muscular, shirtless men with white sarongs wrapped around their thighs, bore the god’s palanquin on their shoulders. They marched him slowly along a stone corridor shrouded in shadows to his consort’s shrine. Drumbeats echoed along the walls. Candles flickered outside the doorway to the shrine’s inner sanctum. There, Meenakshi, the fish-eyed goddess, awaited the embrace of her husband, Sundareshwarar, an incarnation of that most priapic of Indian gods, Shiva.

Along with hundreds of Indians clustered around the shrine entrance, I strained to get a glimpse of the statue of Sundareshwarar, but green cloths draped over the palanquin kept it hidden. Worshipers surged forward in mass delirium, snapping photos with their cellphones, bowing to the palanquin and chanting hymns. They stretched out their hands to touch the carriage. Priests ordered them back.
Then the priests veered into the inner sanctum, carrying the unseen god toward the eager arms of his wife. They too had a night of divine pleasure ahead of them, so we were all ushered out as the guards began locking up.
This union of Meenakshi and Sundareshwarar is a nightly ritual in Madurai, the largest temple city in the southern state of Tamil Nadu, drawing feverish crowds of Hindu devotees. In much of India, the gods are not creatures of distant myth to be worshiped as abstractions. They exist in our world, in our time, and are fully integrated into the daily lives of Hindu believers. They move simultaneously through the world of the divine and the world that we inhabit, and are subject to all the emotions and experiences that we humans are all too familiar with — including carnal desire.
Few things in India express the continuous presence of the gods better than the ancient, massive temple complexes of Tamil Nadu. Walk through any city there and what catches your eye first are the soaring temple entrances known as gopuras, sacred skyscrapers decorated with a phantasmagoria of Hindu statues of multi-armed, bug-eyed gods, mythical beasts and chiseled warriors. Thousands of such statues adorn the largest gopuras, like the ones rising from the Meenakshi-Sundareshwarar temple in Madurai, one of the holiest pilgrimage sites in India.
“Here, we have a proverb: ‘Where there is a temple, people can live,’ ” said Ram Kumar, a guide I had hired in Madurai. “The temple is the center of a person’s living space.”
Though Kerala, the state just to the west, draws larger tourist crowds, Tamil Nadu is an increasingly popular destination. One of India’s most developed states, it also has beaches and lush farmland, and its cuisine is among the most flavorful — and hottest — in India.
But it is the temple circuit that is the main draw, as it has been for centuries. Indeed, many of Tamil Nadu’s residents see the state as a repository of “pure” Hindu culture. In many ways, it is a country within a country, proudly preserving its ancient Dravidian culture, most noticeably in the widespread use of the Tamil language.
I had been to India four times, but never to the south, so I had little idea of what to expect in December, when I flew with my friend Tini into Chennai, the capital of Tamil Nadu. We were met by a driver from a hotel in Mahabalipuram, a beach town 36 miles south. He whisked us into an Ambassador, those grand 1950s-style sedans ubiquitous throughout India, and off we went, veering past cows, motor rickshaws and overcrowded buses.
The chaos of India — sometimes the very quality that draws me there — wasn’t quite what I needed on this vacation. For a moment, as we were flying through the insane traffic, I had second thoughts about the whole trip.
Then we pulled into Mahabalipuram; I could see the ocean as we cruised into town. There was the smell of salt in the air, and we drove through quiet lanes to the seaside hotel. The beach there is not of the golden-sand-and-swaying-palms kind you find in Goa or Kerala, but it is a pretty stretch to walk along and unwind from sightseeing (think fishing skiffs and seafood restaurants).
It is the town’s stone architecture, some of the oldest in India, that makes Mahabalipuram a good first stop on the temple crawl. Biking between temples seemed the most relaxed way of taking in the sights, so off we went to a set of mini-temples on the southern edge of town. The place was already crowded with Indian tourists and juice vendors standing next to carts piled high with green coconuts.
The ancient site was designed to be a big outdoor showroom that exhibited the skills of the town’s architects. Incredibly, the set of temples, the Five Rathas, was carved from a single large slab of granite: models in the Dravida style.
As I pedaled north, I heard the chiseling of stone coming from roadside workshops — a sound I would hear throughout the day — reminding me that Mahabalipuram is still the stone-sculpturing capital of India, just as it was in ancient times. Likenesses of major Hindu gods like Shiva, Vishnu and Ganesh roll out of these workshops and into homes and offices around the country.

I stopped in at a few of the workshops, where men sat on the floor chiseling. They were creating statues of Hindu gods and of Buddha in various poses: Buddha reclining, Buddha meditating beneath the bodhi tree, Buddha’s head. At one workshop, I held up a statuette of Ganesh, the elephant-headed god. He was typing on a laptop.

“Computer companies like to buy these,” the manager said.
This was India: the modern alongside the classically ancient.
By the crashing waves of the Bay of Bengal sits the town’s most important architectural site, the Shore Temple. My Rough Guide said the Shore Temple was built in the early eighth century during the Pallava dynasty and is considered the earliest stone temple in the south. Its two towers were modest compared with some of the gopuras I would later see, but the style — a layered, wedding-cake look whose sharp edges have been eroded by the seaside weather — had enormous influence on the development of later temples both in India and in Southeast Asia. The corncob towers of the beautiful Angkor complex in Cambodia, built by the Hindu Khmer rulers, are one example.
Perhaps the most beautiful piece of art in Mahabalipuram, though, lies in the heart of town, an open-air bas relief known as Arjuna’s Penance. Dozens of figures from Hindu mythology are carved from the surface of an enormous granite boulder.
The central scenes depict a well-known tale from the Mahabharata — that of the revered warrior Arjuna turning ascetic and going into the forest to seek the aid of Shiva in a coming battle. Tourists were kept far from the rock by a rail, but monkeys clambered all over it, just like the forest creatures in the mythological scene.
HEADING south from Mahabalipuram, Tini and I hopped on a bus to Pondicherry, the former French colonial town. It was a good stop for dining and some new boutique hotels, but it did not have much in the way of grand temples.
So we hired a car to reach the temple of Gangaikondacholapuram, a few hours’ drive southwest, where the detailed statues and friezes from the Chola dynasty are as remarkable as the temple’s name. What astounded me were the demon-protector statues flanking each doorway, towering over me, snarling at me with fanged teeth, telling me in a not-too-subtle way that I didn’t belong here.
The drive to the temple had taken us deep into the Tamil Nadu countryside, past the electric-green rice fields of the Cauvery Delta. Storms broke out as we were leaving the temple, but I didn’t mind. It all seemed part of the landscape, these rains that would bring a harvest for the farmers making a living the same way their ancestors had done thousands of years ago.
Eager for a roof over our heads, we told our driver to head for Thanjavur, where I hoped to see the finest surviving works of the Cholas, who ruled a large swath of south India from this city.
The downpour was ceaseless, continuing through the night and the next day. I spent my first morning in Thanjavur looking at marvelous bronze statues in the Royal Palace compound. The famous bronze depiction of Nataraja, lord of the dance, standing in a ring of fire, strands of the cosmos swirling from his head, was created during the Chola dynasty and has since been replicated endlessly.
The next morning, with the rain lessening, I went to the Brihadishwara Temple, the most jaw-dropping architectural achievement of the Cholas. The impressive scale of it was apparent as soon as I walked past the temple’s pet elephant in the outer courtyard and toward the interior. The vimana, the tower above the inner sanctum, rises 216 feet into the air and is topped with an 81-ton-ball of stone. One theory says that the builders used a 3.5-mile-long elevated plank to roll the ball to the top.
As I peered at the thousands of statues decorating the tower, pilgrims streamed into the compound, many going into the inner sanctum to be blessed by the priests and to gaze on the 10-foot-tall black lingam. In appearance, a lingam is essentially a big phallus. It is the most common representation of Shiva — the destroyer, the transformer, the god who embodies both life and the negation of life — at temples across India.
Male pilgrims draped in orange robes shuffled past us to stand in front of the lingam. Many were Shaivites, easily recognized by three white lines drawn on their foreheads. I saw them everywhere in Tamil Nadu, including at the Meenakshi-Sundareshwarar temple in Madurai, my final stop.
I stood by the bathing tank in the courtyard outside the Meenakshi shrine, watching as pilgrims dunked their heads or entire bodies into the water, a scene repeated at rivers, lakes and pools all across India. A massive, brightly painted gopura rose above each of the four entrances to the temple, the 12 towers visible for miles around. The tallest, above the south entrance, was more than 150 feet tall.

Madurai is one of the most ancient cities in India, so it is only fitting that at the center of its teeming bazaars stands what some call the most magnificent temple complex on the subcontinent. It is actually two temples joined, one dedicated to Meenakshi and the other to her husband, Sundareshwarar. Unlike many temples in India, the female god is the dominant one here.

“This temple is a special one,” said Mr. Kumar, my guide. “You feel it as soon as you walk in.”
At least 15,000 visitors come each day. That afternoon, pilgrims kept pouring in. Mr. Kumar said many had temporarily left behind their material lives — jobs as software engineers, rickshaw drivers, whatever — to spend weeks walking to these temples barefoot and in robes.
That night, when I went to see the ceremony that would bring about the union of the husband-and-wife gods, the pilgrims were there as well, bearing witness to the holy coupling. They believed the gods had given them life. But it was, in fact, they who — through their devotion, through their journeys to these great temples — were breathing life into the gods.
VISITOR INFORMATION
Once in Tamil Nadu, the easiest way to get between cities is to use local buses or to hire a car and driver, depending on your budget. To give an idea of prices, a driver from the Hotel Sea Breeze in Mahabalipuram met me at the Chennai airport and took me straight to the hotel, 36 miles, for 1,200 rupees, or about $26 at 46 rupees to the dollar. In a car without air-conditioning, the ride would have cost 900 rupees. The two-hour bus ride between Mamallapuram and Pondicherry cost the equivalent of $1 or $2.
WHERE TO STAY
In Mahabalipuram, I stayed at the Hotel Sea Breeze, a stone’s throw from the beach (Ottawadai Street; 91-44-2744-3035). A double costs 2,025 rupees a night..
In Pondicherry, a pleasant place to stay is the Vatika Guest Home, on the northern edge of the old colonial center (67 François Martin Street; 91-413-233-3980; www.vatikaguesthome.com). It has seven rooms, three with air-conditioning (and plans to add it to all), costing 1,000 to 1,500 rupees.
In Thanjavur, I stayed in at the Hotel Oriental Towers (2889 Srinivasam Pillai Road; 91-4362- 230-724; www.hotelorientaltowers.com) for 990 rupees a night.
In Madurai, the Hotel Park Plaza is in the old city (114-115 West Perumal Maistry Street; 91-452-301-1111; www.hotelparkplaza.net), and charges 1,925 rupees for a double. Ask for a room with views of the Meenakshi Sundareshwarar temple.
All the rates cited above include a luxury tax. You can bargain down the rates during low season.
WHERE TO EAT
Tamil Nadu has one of the most flavorful regional cuisines in India. The traditional style of cooking, called Chettinad, often mixes curry leaves, tamarind, anise and even rosewater. Hot pepper is used more liberally than in other parts of India.
Mahabalipuram is a great place for seafood. Moonrakers on Othavadai Street (91-4114-242-115; users.telenet.be/oochappan/moonrakers) uses authentic spices in its dishes. A dinner for two there costs no more than 390 rupees.
Another great place is Mamalla Bhavan, on Shore Temple Road in the town center. It’s a typical south Indian “eats” canteen, where you can order a set meal of rice and curry, known as a thali, for about 30 rupees. It is very popular with locals and few tourists go there.
An atmospheric place to eat in Pondicherry is Satsanga, in a converted colonial mansion at 30, rue de la Bourdonnais (91-413-2225-867). It serves Continental and Indian cuisine.
In Thanjavur, I had a memorable dinner at the Thillana restaurant in the Sangam hotel, on Trichy Road (www.hotelsangam.com/tindextan.html). The restaurant offers excellent traditional Chettinad dishes, the best of which are made with fish or shrimp. They also have live Carnatic music, a tradition of the south. A dinner for one runs around $10.
In Madurai, there are some good, cheap canteens on West Perumal Maistry Street, the busy lane where Hotel Park Plaza and other popular hotels are located. The hotel restaurants are also good. Meals at the canteens run 50 cents to $1, while ones at the hotel restaurants run $5 to $8. Many hotels on West Perumal Maistry Street, including Park Plaza, Supreme and Chentoor, have great temple views from their rooftop restaurants.
GUIDES
The Rough Guide to South India (www.roughguides.com, $23.99) strikes a good balance between historical context and practical information.
In Madurai, I hired Ram Kumar, a guide recommended by the local tourist office, to take me around the Meenakshi Sundareshwarar Temple. He charges 300 to 400 rupees, depending on the length of the tour. He can also take you around other parts of Madurai, including the Royal Palace Compound, which has a stunning collection of Chola-era bronze statues, as well as an interesting library with Sanskrit manuscripts. His cell phone number is 91-984-263-6312, and his e-mail addresses are professional_guide@yahoo.co.in and guide4uall@rediffmail.com.