Tuesday, December 18, 2018
Raghurajpur and Konarak
Exploring Orissa’s Rural Village Life at Raghurajpur and Visiting the Famous Sun Temple at Konarak
Namaste from Puri, Orissa!
What a fabulous (but oh so exhausting) day we had today as my travels in the state of Orissa continue with my friends Nafisa and her husband Hosefa.
So, up at 6.00 in this hotel with its ultra-comfy bed, I awoke and began blogging and checking out what is happening in the world through Twitter. I also have the luxury of cable TV in my room—and so I watched a CNN Talk Show. I ate the Chicken Burger I picked up from the hotel’s bakery and while substantial, it was quite tasteless indeed. Then off for a shower and a departure at 9.00 from our room. We piled into a cab—private and hired—and left for a day out. We would return quite exhausted.
A Visit to Raghurajpur:
A Visit to the village of Raghurajpur gave us an opportunity in experiential learning. We were students again—I felt as if I were taking one of NYU’s Global Cultures class—as we drove through the rural heartland to get to our destination. Fields—miles of them—wound their way through tiny villages that Time forgot. We passed by small ponds and pools everywhere—possible fresh water sources—and arrived in a small rural hamlet that is a popular tourist site. This is because a group of traditional artisans have clustered together in a long, narrow street that basically forms a village to eke out a living practicing their traditional art forms. Tourists and visitors are invited to visit them in these vital living quarters to get an idea of the kind of work they do. Most of them have plied these trades (involving art) for generations and live in like manner—two or three generations in one home learning from one another as the mantle is passed on.
Our driver, as is usually the case, stopped our car right at the beginning of a narrow lane and right outside a big shop—the biggest and most brightly lit of the cluster of shops that made up that narrow street. It irritated me right away because it was clear to me that he had a tie-up with the owner of that particular store: he would get a cut or commission from anything we bought in that store. But I had come to support and patronize the work of the artisans—I had not come to swell the coffers of a wealthy salesman who already looked far more prosperous than any of the other salesmen in their little shops who were hawking the same wares. Besides, if I was there to support the artists, I would prefer to learn about their art forms from them and then to buy from their own homes. I did not wish to learn from someone who clearly had no artistic skills himself tell me how the work was done: I preferred to see the actual artist doing the job himself. I was so annoyed by this greedy way of profiting from tourists while ignoring the very reason this sort of enterprise has been set up—to support starving artists.
Nafisa was not convinced and she had no qualms about listening to the middle man. I told her that I was going out for a walk and would meet her and Hosefa in half an hour as I simply could not bring myself to listen to the spiel if I was not buying from that store—for that was what it was: a store. Not a home, not an artist’s workshop, nothing. Just a shop.
Fortunately, for me, when I went away to explore the beautiful little village on my own, one of the people told me that the actual village of Raghurajpur was about 300 meters ahead and that we ought to tell our driver to take us there. So I returned and told my travel companions the same thing and summoning our driver, we got back into our vehicle and drove to the right place.
There is a huge plaque at the entrance of the village announcing the objectives behind setting up such a place. As I said, the intention is to keep these art forms alive, to bring tourists to the actual site where these art and craft forms are practiced so that they can see the kind of skill and craftsmanship it takes to produce these wares, and to ensure a living for the large numbers of artisans who live hand to mouth in order to keep these genres of the arts going, etc.
The village consists of one long and very narrow road with a central diving island that is filled with small temples and shrines. The homes of the artists line the narrow street. Each little habitation consists of a small, narrow portico that leads into a long and narrow home that looks like a tunnel—rather like what they called railcar apartments in New York City—there are small rooms that run alongside the corridor. The portico or stoops of each home are painted in bright colors—there is a lot of color in Orissa —in the clothes the women wear and in the paint on their buildings, homes, etc. The names of the people living in the home are proclaimed by a saying: Narain Weds Sushma or Bishan Weds Gauri. This was a must unusual cultural trait that I saw in many parts of Orissa that I have combed so far.
A Performance By the Gotipua Dancers:
My cousin Blossom who had visited this village many years ago with her late husband Placid had told me to inquire about the Gotipua dancers when we arrived at the village. She told me that they were boys dressed as girls who were trained from a young age to take on this rural art form. Accordingly, we made inquiries and were led to the end of the village (which was great as it gave us a chance to really observe its many idiosyncrasies) to a small dance school—it seems that there are a few of this kind in this village. There, we found a cluster of village women, involved in micro-financing, having one of their periodic meetings in what looked like a community hall. It was, in fact, the main performance area of this school. Upon our request, the manager of the school, summoned the students to get ready to do a short performance for us.
It began in about ten minutes and we were thrilled. About six little boys and girls —the oldest looked about 14 and was clearly gay—performed for us. They were not in costume or make up (as it would take ages for them to get dressed and made-up), but in a nod to getting ready for the performance, they each wore a thick dupatta around their waists. The musicians set up with tabla, harmonium and tiny cymbals and the performance began. From what I could see, it seemed to combine some movements of Odissi which is the classical dance form of the state with gymnastics—there were many formations in the dance that involved the creation of pyramids. It is clear why this dance form is restricted to children—it involves a lot of bending and curving of the body and a whole load of somersaults. The kids’ bodies were as supple as rubber and incredibly flexible. The dance was not some make-shift performance thrown together: it was beautifully coordinated and choreographed and the kids did a grand job. It went on for about 12 minutes and was superb. I was much impressed.
We had asked if we were supposed to pay for the performance and were told by the manager that the kids are taken in at the age of five, housed, fed and clothed by the school. Any money we paid would be a donation that would fund their keep. Seemed fair enough to me. We paid them Rs. 200 and they seemed quite thrilled by it. They were a really sweet bunch and I was glad that we were able to support their talents and enterprise in our own small way.
Seeing the Artists at Work and Buying their Wares:
Next door, the tout who had led us to this school had his own home and workshop and he invited us inside. We found that they had no electricity (it seemed to have gone off but it is possible that they do not have any electricity in this village). We also noted that they do not have running water. There was a communal hand pump in the village and we actually saw a woman draw water from it probably through a well. Slow, very slow, progress is being made—that was for sure. At least they were not still drawing water from a well!
The man pulled out chairs for us and then set to work on a ramshackle stool. He showed us how etching is done on palm leaf strips. The etchings are them filled in with soot produced by burning coal—similar to the production of kajal or kohl for the eyes. He drew a tiny image of Krishna and filled it with soot mixed with water. Then he showed us a bunch of scroll-like creations that are made when these strips are joined together. They make good wall-hangings. They are incredibly artistic and I was quite taken by his talent. However, I did not find anything I really wanted to buy though we did inquire about the prices of his painted coconut shells and painted betel nuts that I thought would make good Christmas ornaments.
We next entered another home and there we were treated to a demonstration of the production of patachitra which is the making of paintings on a particular type of cloth, the layers of which are glued together with tamarind glue—the area and the village are famous for this item. Hosefa wanted to look at a panel with a scenery as he was not interested in the depiction of Hindu gods and goddesses which is what they usually depict on these panels. He could find none. However, what we did find was that the coconuts and betel nuts were half the price of the ones that the tout was selling us. Again, I was annoyed and I went ahead and purchased a few while also buying a bunch of book marks that were made using dried palm-fronds. You could not have something more rural or more indicative of the kind of village crafts that are still being produced today.
We were then told that another performance of Gotipua dancers would occur shortly and we were led to a much bugger school in a settlement that was beautifully landscaped around a gorgeous lake with swaying coconut palms throwing their dreamy reflections in the clear waters. It was absolutely idyllic and I could not stop taking pictures. Sadly, we had missed the performance, but we did catch a glimpse of the dancers beautifully costumed and made-up as they scuttled off to their green room—hard to believe these were boys! They had performed for a large group of students (mainly female) who were visiting from a neighboring state and were getting a lesson, first-hand, in Cultural Studies. The guru was instructing them and giving a short lecture. I loved the fact that their clothing was so colorful as they sat taking notes in sarees and warm woolen shawls. It was incredible.
It was time for us to move and we spent a while then looking for our driver who seemed to be glued to his phone and was not reachable. As we waited for him, we were invited by every salesman to come and visit their home. But we’d had enough and we politely refused each of them.
Soon our driver was found and we began our onward journey out from a place that evoked in me a mixture of admiration and sadness—-it is heart-breaking to see the poverty in which these artisans live. Were it not for our generosity and willingness to support their crafts directly (without greedy middle men selling their wares), we would not see the survival of such arts and crafts forms in rural India.
We then drove for about an hour to our next destination—Konark—where we were headed to see one of the most famous of ancient Indian temple-monuments to Surya or the Sun God.
Visiting the Sun Temple at Konark:
The best part about travel and tourism for me is how much I learn from every place I visit. This was certainly the case here. All I knew was that Konark or Konarak was famous for a temple called The Sun Temple. I knew nothing else. By the time I was done with my travels through Orissa, I would get to know that the Holy Trinity (as it were) of Orissa’s Hindu temples are the Jaganath Temple at Puri (which we saw yesterday), the Sun Temple at Konark (which we were seeing today) and the Lingaraj Temple in Bhubaneswar (which I intend to see tomorrow).
Getting to the venue, about a half hour later, we found out that the Indian Oil Company has taken over the maintenance of this site. It has built a wonderful paved approach to the temple with trees lining it. There is also a lovely visitors center with toilets (a rarity in India) for which one paid Rs. 5. We bought tickets for Rs. 40 each, used the facilities and made our way down the paved path to the temple—we could catch a glimpse of it between the trees.
However, before we got to the Temple itself, we passed by a small Museum which offered a great introduction to the monument. This, by the way, is a monument protected by the Archeological Survey of India. It is not a living temple—there are no worshippers here. People only come here as tourists. That is why it is open to non-Hindus unlike the Jaganath and Lingaraj Temples.
The Museum told us a great deal about Sun Worship and its occurrence in varied cultures—Persian, Greek, Mexican and Chinese. Wonderful exhibits told us about similar temples built in different parts of the world through the centuries. In Konark, the God worshiped is Surya, the Sun God. As we walked through the exhibit, in which replicas of the varied sculpted figures and forms that are found on the sides of the temples are to be found, we leaned about the legend that supports the creation of this temple.
Built by King Narasimhadeva I, the legend goes that he contracted leprosy and was instructed by his mother to pray to the Sun God for a cure. He did so and was told to take a holy dip in the Daya river—which he did. When he emerged, his disease had cleared. In gratitude, his mother suggested he should built a temple similar to the one that had been built by his father in Puri—the Jaganath Temple. And so construction on the temple began in 1244 and continued until 1256. This legend was explained to us through a lovely animation film in the Screening Room that was the last stop in the Visitors Center. I was most impressed by the manner in which Indian Oil has made the history and mythology of the temple accessible to foreigners and non-Hindus.However, historical versions state that it was built to celebrate his victory over the Muslims. Indeed the temple was in use until the early 17th century when it fell into disuse following its desecration by one of Jehangir’s envoys.
Visiting the Temple Precincts:
As we emerged from the Visitors Center, we were accosted by a number of men offering their services as guides. Lonely Planet had suggested that we get one because there are many details that we would miss if they were not actually pointed out to us. Hence, we did hire a man for Rs. 250–he said he would give us an hour long tour with commentary in English. As it turned out, he doubled up as a photographer also and concocted all sorts of novel poses and venues for us to immortalize our visit.
By the end of our visit, I realized that the most famous part of the iconography of the temple is the Wheel—it is featured on India’s currency notes. I also learned that the Number 12 has great significance at Konark—it was built in 12 years and has connections with the 12 months of the year, the 12 hours of the day, the 12 hours of the night, etc. It took 12,000 workers to complete the project. In addition, there are connections with astronomy because on certain days of the year (probably the Summer Solstice and Winter Solstice), the rays of the rising sun are said to fall in a single straight line on the face of the main deity, the Sun God or Surya, as he sat on the main altar. That main statue was spirited away by the British and is now, apparently, in the British Museum in London! There are three other chlorite statues of Surya in other poses have been restored and replaced in niches on the other three sides of the temple to catch the rays of the sun at dawn, noon and sunset.
The guide also made it clear that the temple was constructed entirely of black Orissan stone with the doorways to each altar made of green Chennai granite. He also explained that the temple was supposed to be a ‘rath’ or chariot and was drawn originally by 7 horses—only two of them still stand—the rest have been destroyed by the ravages of time. In fact, much of the temple’s layers or tiers have fallen and they lie scattered about the precincts. Attempts are being made to shore up the structure and bolster it by the use of metals scaffolding. In fact, there is apparently so much iron in the structure that ships were said to be drawn as if by magnets to the spot. Lots of the carved panels have also been destroyed and they have been replaced by straight, plain stone panels.
The guide also told us that the temple was visualized as appealing to three human states: childhood (represented by carved animals), youth (represented by erotic sculptures that depict scenes and poses from The Kamasutra) and old age (represented by images of the gods and goddesses). He pointed out many little vignettes that represented women at their toilette (applying sindhoor into the parting of their hair) or looking into mirrors held by their assistants, men and women entertaining each other, lesbian women in one panel, men at battle, etc.etc. He also showed us the four entrances or gates that were depicted with animal forms: horses, elephants, eagles (garuda). The stone was entwined with iron bars and there was an iron magnet at the very top in the larger structure called the Jagamohan. In fact, I learned the all Oriyan temples consist of two structures: the smaller one called the jagamohan which served as a place of entertainment: devdasis or courtesans danced for the entertainment pleasure of the wealthy; and the deul, the larger structure—usually conical—in which the deity was enshrined. This was used for worship and this was certainly the case here. Much of the deul in this temple has collapsed and is being bolstered by iron scaffolding.
There is a great deal to see and appreciate about Konark. Not just the conception of it (which is unique) but the execution. When you consider that this was done in the mid-13th century, it is a feat of engineering that boggles the mind. The wonderful links between the gods and goddesses frolicking in Brindavan—the Hindu equivalent of the Garden of Paradise or Eden by pleasuring themselves in the manner of Kamasutra experimentation is fascinating indeed to non-Hindus. And when you consider how sexually repressed Indians have become since the time when such erotic images were freely sprinkled on temples (the two Indian temples with such depictions are Konark and Khajuraho in Madhya Pradesh), you are indeed awed.
We spent a lot of time in Konark and were fully satisfied with our visit. There were loads of other visitors in the space—mainly Indian visitors; we did not see many foreign tourists at all. By the time we were done, it was 3.00 pm and we were ready for a very late lunch. Luckily, Kamat’s, a South Indian fast food chain, has an outlet there and we ended up eating masala dosas and sipping lassis for our very economically priced meal.
Back in our car, at about 4.00 pm, we were ready to head back to our hotel to relax after what had been a very fulfilling and instructive day. We rested for two hours, took swift naps and then got dressed and ready for dinner.
Dinner at Chanakya Hotel:
We thought initially that we would go to one of the Mayfair restaurants for dinner—this is a famous hotel chain in Puri and there are two of them: Mayfair Waves and Mayfair Heritage. We looked at Waves and found that all they had was a buffet for Rs.1050 per head. We did not wish to eat too much and preferred to take a look at the Mayfair Heritage. But the prices there were shockingly high and we decided that we were much better off going back to the Chanakya Hotel where in the gracious, old-fashioned manner of the colonial Railway restaurants, we had enjoyed such a good meal last night.
And so that was what we did. We strolled at leisure to the place and sat ourselves down. We were also more judicious with our order—fresh lime sodas and Thums Up for drinks with no appetizers. We went straight to the meal and chose Mattar Paneer and Murgh Shahi Korma with garlic naans and tandoor rotis. Everything was very good indeed and with dessert of chocolate ice-cream with chocolate sauce, it was a very economical and satisfying meal indeed.
The best part was that our hotel was just a few minutes jaunt away and in no time at all, we were in our rooms getting ready for a well-deserved rest after a very interesting day. Before I fell asleep, however, I waited up to find out if Chriselle had landed in Bombay and if she had made contact at the airport with my Dad and my cousin Blossom who had gone to pick her up with my friend Anil’s car and driver. All was well, she had landed, made contact and was on her way to Dad’s place. Quite relieved, I then went off to bed.
Until tomorrow...
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