A Small Slice of Tamilpakam, a peek into the wonders of an ancient civilization. Tamil Nadu Part 1

Growing up in the state of Kerala, the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu held an enviable place in my heart. This was of course the state with an ancient Dravidian civilization that had managed to stay true to its religious, cultural, and literary roots while embracing the desirable parts of modernism. Tamilians have reigned (and continue to) hallowed hallways of Government bureaucracy to corporate board rooms, while providing Indian and global audiences with first rate artists, sports prodigies, and writers alike. Therefore when a family trip to South India was in the works, it had to start with Tamil Nadu.

The Plan

    After a day spent recovering from a 16-hour flight and the ensuing jet lag at Taj Coromandel in Chennai, we set off in our Toyota Innova, a spacious SUV that was to be our ratha (chariot) during this 2 week journey. The ambitious goal of exploring the heartland of Tamil Nadu meant that a road trip was the only way we could ensure that we hit all our spots comfortably. Barring the day when we crossed into the state of Kerala, all the towns in our itinerary were between 2 to 3-1/2 hours by road. That allowed a lot of time for all sorts of pit stops from bathroom breaks to photographing scenic vistas to stopping abruptly on the side of the road in chaotic markets to buy guavas, jasmine flowers, sitaphal (custard apples) or just a cup of chai.

Stop 1 about an hour out of Chennai was Dakshina Chitra, an interesting open-air museum showcasing rural and traditional life in 4 southern states of India. It is worth about an hour of wandering about, reading the detailed information on the life and history of ordinary people. The website advertises that there is a craft bazaar but it was more like 2-3 artisans/shopkeepers with generic looking souvenirs. If staying at Chennai, I would recommend a dekko. 

    After another hour or so of driving on well maintained roads with manageable traffic, we reached our first destination -  Mahabalipuram, also known as Mamallapuram. 

A UNESCO World heritage site, Mahabalipuram is an astounding showcase of art in stone, dating back to the Pallava dynasty, believed to have been constructed in the 7^th and 8^th centuries CE. Although some of these monuments are temples, they are also rock reliefs, cave sanctuaries, halls, ‘chariots’, and much more. The monuments are spread over almost 4 kms and the plan was to start at the star of them all – The Shore temple and make our way through the rest. But best laid plans, yada yada yada, we ended up first at the southernmost of the monuments and therefore the plan was reversed.

Tip: Buy a ticket from the ASI (Archeological Survey of India) booth at the Light house and hold on to it. You will need it at the Five Rathas and the Group of Monuments. 

Another Tip : Curb the enthusiasm to walk to the Five Rathas and drive instead. There is ample parking and you won't be dodging motorbikes and high speed vehicles on a relatively narrow road with no pavement.

One more Tip: It is hot in Tamil Nadu for most of the year unless you are visiting in December or you are in the hills. So, a hat or an umbrella is a must. So is lots of water, sunscreen and roomy cotton clothes. Dress like the natives..they do know stuff that you may not!  

You climb a few (ok many) well-maintained steps up the hill to reach the Olakannesvara Temple, overlooking the Coromandel coast of the Bay of Bengal. This temple attributed to Lord Shiva is a built of grey-granite in the traditional Dravidian architecture and was used as a lighthouse during the Pallava dynasty around 640 CE. A modern version was built in 1887 and was functional since 1904. It ceased its operations in 2011. Since there is no idol here anymore this is a structural temple and is  a fine example of the Pallava style of architecture. The cool breeze that dries up all the sweat you collected climbing those steps is a bonus to a majestic uninterrupted view of the Bay of Bengal.

    Drive about 1 km to the group of monuments known as Panch Rathas or Five Chariots. This group of structures was carved out of a single granite outcrop and is a sight to behold as you walkup past the entrance gate. It might feel overwhelming to handle these on your own but a little bit of planning before the trip can help you avoid paying anyone to tell you all the things that you could have found out yourself. The Archeological Survey of India (ASI) website and the website of the Dept of Tourism of Tamil Nadu do a really good job of giving you background info. 

    These five chariots are dedicated to each of the Pandava brothers and their wife Draupadi. There are statues of a lion, bull and elephant to keep them company as well. Each of the chariots are created in a different architectural style – traditional Dravidian archictecture, Pallava architecture, Buddhist architecture and Bengali architecture. The roofs and some of the statuettes remind you of carvings in Buddhist temples in Seoul or the extensive temples of Bali. These structures are a testament to how far the influence and rule of the Pallava dynasty had spread throughout South east Asia. 

Yes, it is compelling to want to know about the statues and the rathas - who made these, why, what do each of the structures mean, why is one roof oblong but the other a pyramid and many many more. But if you can stop taking pictures (which is really hard) and just walk slowly into and around each structure, observe the statues that were carved into hard granite almost 1500 years ago, you will be filled with such a sense of wonder and majesty that you will forget your intellectual curiosity to hours to come. 

From here on, it is all on foot. The monuments are well maintained and the entire complex is clean albeit crowded with tourists. But, considering the import of this UNESCO heritage site, I hope more and more people get to experience this wonder.

The next monument as you make your way to the ultimate destination of Shore temple is a pavilion that houses a wondrous bas-relief - the Krishna Mandapam. It depicts a story of Krishna saving his village folk by lifting up Mount Govardhana. Every aspect of a cowherder’s life is depicted here, carved into stone and has thanffully survived for so many centuries. 

    I bet you that the sight that awaits you as you walk out of this mandapa (pavilion) is something you wont forget ever! Measuring almost 40 feet across, a huge relief cut into two large boulders awaits you. You notice pouncing lions, men in hunting poses, women dancing, deer, mice, more lions, a group of different sized elephants sheltering baby elephants, an old bearded man deep in penance, celestial beings with halos, men either reclining on large nagas(cobras) or men who themselves have a giant snakes on their head…Phew!! All this carved into one of the toughest stones – granite –  more than 1500 years ago. You are looking at Arjuna’s penance of the Descent of the Ganga, one of world’s largest rock reliefs. 

Keeping with the Hindu mythological systems, scholars provide two different stories to describe this relief, hence the two names Arjuna's Penance or The Descent of the Ganges. But examining each and everyone of more than 100 sculptures in front of you, thankfully behind a protective fence, all one can think of is how talented were the artisans who could bring this level of detail and movement and even emotion into stone and how lucky am I that it has survived all these years so that I could experience this. Thanks to ASI again for their superb conservation efforts that has made this possible. They do have informative plaques and QR codes that take you to the website to provide you with more details. 

Take your time with this majestic sculpture, take a sip of water, fan yourself and start walking around the well-kept laws and paths that make up the rest of the compound.

You will soon see a large throng of people around an oddly shaped boulder and you have now reached Krishna’s butterball.

Not a man-made scultpture but a wonder of nature itself, this is a giant boulder that seems frozen on the edge of a steep rock slope, defying gravity. The original name of the story is Vaan Irai Kal which translates to Sky God's Stone but the playful name of Krishna’s butterball has stuck for many years, referencing the love of young Krishna for all things milk and butter. It is a wonder to behold a good place to catch your breath and take a few obligatory tourist pictures, pretending to hold up the giant boulder.

Then you turn eastwards, trying in vain to listen to the waves of the Bay of Bengal or feel its salty air  as you make your way to the final destination of the Shore Temple. 

                                   

A beautiful example of traditional Dravidian architecture, the Shore temple is a complex of three shrines – two dedicated to Lord Shiva and one to Lord Vishnu, with an outer wall with bull figures as an ode to Nandi, Shiva’s vehicle.  The pyramidal towers soar high into the blue sky and loudly proclaim the might to the Pallava rulers who used Mahabalipuram as an important port during their reign. Once again, the geometric precision and details in this granite structure have to be seen to be believed. 

    And no, you do not get tired to saying “Wow!” “This is so awesome” “How did they do that” “I cant believe this is 1500 years old” as you bid farewell to this wondrous town and ask your driver to embark on the next leg of your trip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So Long England, 'til we meet again

     Two weeks ago, I packed up the last of my clothes, threw away half finished bottles of ketchup, mustard, chipotle sauce and drove away from the house that had been my home for the past year. It was bittersweet;  I was sad to leave Weybridge but I was looking forward to spending the next two weeks as a resident tourist in London; a farewell tour of sorts, a re-run of the greatest hits  and experiences of the year. 

    Now, at the airpot, as my husband checks in the last of our 9 suitcases (total weight 175 kilos!), I realize that this is it. My year of living in this country - a country with almost 2000 years of recorded history, a country that has a nasty historical relationship with my native land, India yet today counts people of the Indian sub-continent as its largest immigrant community - has come to an end. It was time to recapture how I spent 378 days on this island. I have gained a different perspective on my life in the US by living in a similar yet different culture. I have seen the role of government in taking care of its vulnerable citizens and read about the bureaucratic challenges of a big government. I have watched people foster communities without compromising their personal space, cherish history and natural resources with great pride while adapting technology to make everyday life simple and I have:

• toured magnificent castles at Windsor, Edinburgh, and Hever and  gilded palaces - Buckingham,  Kensington, Hampton Court and Osborne palace and tried, in vain to keep track of English history and numerous families that have made up the English royalty since 1066
• reveled in landscaped gardens and  grand manor houses at  National Trust properties like Polesdon Lacey, Claremont gardens, Gatton Park, Box Hill and  Painshill Park
• participated in the Royal Regatta at Henley-on-Thames, driven through picture perfect villages of warm yellow colored houses in Oxfordshire and marked off filming locations from the Midsomer Murders and Inspector Morse series
• walked in the countryside straight out of a Thomas Hardy novel with hills colored in different shades of green dotted with white puffs of the sheep kept in check by straight drystone walls in the North country and tall hedges everywhere else
• punted on the Cam along the backs in Cambridge, walked in the shadow of the towering spires in Oxford and felt a twinge of envy at the well-dressed scholars of Eton College

• driven my car onto the ferry at Portsmouth and onto a train to go through the Eurotunnel at Folkestone, driven almost 8700 miles in all from the gorgeous Isle of Wight, to the pebbled beaches of Brighton and along the gorgeous West coast of Scotland
• driven on narrow village roads with cars parked on either side, only  to see the oncoming driver pause to let me pass, through roundabouts as small as a painted circle in the middle of the road to a large stretched polygon with five exits, feeling the collective movement of cars flowing through the circle in harmony, and struggled with extremely tight parking spots in parking garages at Windsor and Weybridge
• felt my heart soar with Beethoven’s Fifth played by the Surrey Mozart Players at the ancient Trinity church in Guildford, felt goosebumps listening to Ravi Shankar and Philip Glass’s composition played on India’s Independence day at the Royal Albert Hall and stared in amazement at the glorious mosaics on the ceilings of the St Paul’s cathedral while attending evensong 
• minded the gap on the Tube platforms, walked endless steps through the tunnels and rode up and down deep escalator wells to get onto the streets of London and tried in vain to keep up with the fast walking, extremely fit men and women dressed in their usual  stylish best, no matter what the weather
• experienced theatre in the West end and shopping on Regent Street, ogled at high fashion with unapproachable prices at Carnaby and Mayfair, watched a game of cricket in Hyde park and strolled  in St James’s Park shielding myself from the feral pigeons
• eaten the best Indian food in my life, ever. Period. 
• felt the joys of ordering groceries online to be delivered at home the day after we returned from a trip, and the ease of buying fresh, ready to cook meals, small packaging sizes of produce and single servings of wine in bottles at the grocery stores
• enjoyed many a pints at quaint village pubs and sophisticated gastropubs, indulged in fish pie, fish and chips, shepherd’s pie, roasted lamb, Yorkshire pudding, dainty crustless sandwiches of egg mayonnaise and watercress or cucumber and dill with cream cheese, sticky toffee pudding, Victoria sponge, exceedingly flavorful ales and Gin and the occasional Pimms 
• lived in the art form that is the English garden; whether outside a tiny cottage in Shere, walled gardens at Hampton Court or the profusely flowering and scented RHS Wisely, Savill Garden, Isabella Plantation and Queen Mary’s garden

• hiked the rolling Surrey Hills in the North Downs, stark white chalk cliffs of the South Downs, and the rainy peaks of Catbells Fell in Lake District; looked in wonder at the countless white, brown and black stockinged sheep as well as the Galloways and hairy cows grazing everywhere on this island 
• experienced glorious sunsets, sweet birdsongs of robins, magpies, and finches every evening right outside my bedroom window, and brilliant blooms of labernums, magnolias, peonies, rhododendrons and  horse chestnut blossoms all through spring
• walked on miles of public footpaths through kissing gates and over stiles in meadows, heaths and ancient woods of oak, beech fern and bluebell carpets in spring or buttercups, poppies, cowparsley, foxglove and daisies in summer
• played miniature golf, got scared at Chessington and was transported to a bygone world on the Bluebell railway
• watched proudly as my daughter learnt to canter on a horse and finally conquer her fear of water, and my son sing old English songs and Latin hymns with his school Choir 
• enjoyed the Queens language spoken in its best form, making up my mind to use whilst, reckon, row ( instead of argument), and give you a ring in my vocabulary
• perused innumerable antique stands at the Alexandra palace fair, Sunbury market and Portobello road along with my husband, appreciating the British knack for re-using things till they break, and bought many more used books than I donated at various Hospice and Charity shops
• felt frustrated with the tiny washer-dryer at my flat, rudimentary telephone coverage and unsatisfactory customer service on the phone but experienced excellent personal service in stores in London 
• seen more ducks, swans, dogs and horses in everyday life than I have ever seen before,
• almost drained my credit card buying English pottery at Stoke on Trent
• walked the birthplaces of Wordsworth and Jane Austen and stomping grounds of Shakespeare, Samuel Johnson and Dickens 
• mastered (well, tried to) the Essentials of Cuisine techniques at Le Cordon Bleu in London 
• marveled at treasures from all over the world at the National Gallery, Victoria & Albert and British Museums, learnt about the personal horrors of the Great war at the Imperial War Museum, vintage cars and airplanes at the Brookland Museum, got my fill of old Jaguars and MGs, and brand new Bentleys, Aston Martins and Maserattis on the streets of Weybridge, Cobham and Esher
• participated in a Medieval fair, International fair, flag hoisting and concerts along with the  wonderful ACS Cobham International school community 

And cliched though it may seem, I have made friends with people from all over the world and memories that will last me a lifetime. 

My personal Odyssey - Winter in Greece

      Oscar Wilde once said, “Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” Throughout the past year, I have made regular entries into this diary, most of them from my experiences traveling in Europe. Today, I am looking back to our trip to Greece in the winter of 2016, to what I remember of this highly anticipated trip which had a couple of surprises in store for us.

     I remember landing at the Athens airport, feeling goosebumps seeing signs in “ancient Greek”, trying to decipher the lambda, omega, chi and alpha to read out words and names like I would in a ‘normal’ language, not in the language I have always associated with scientific nomenclature.

     I remember walking up to the ground level at the  Syntagma Square metro station and feeling a blast of cold wind hit me.The sky was gray, and a large construction crane was right in the middle of Athens’ central square. Chaotic traffic, rushing people and tall leafy trees braved the cold wind. I was hoping for a sunnier welcome in this Mediterranean city.

     I remember dragging suitcases along Mitropoleos Avenue to our hotel and passing cafes and bakeries lined with custard pies and pastries in phyllo dough, gyro and souvlaki stalls and stores selling ouzo and Tsipouro and smiling to myself, thinking, ‘Now this feels like I am in Greece!”

   I remember walking through the Monastiraki neighborhood, on narrow, winding cobblestoned lanes lined with souvenir shops, climbing steadily uphill when the Acropolis came into view. I remember marveling at the scale of the Parthenon even from a distance, though it was covered in  scaffolding and construction equipment. As the twilight spread across the sky, the large columns lit up in a creamy halo from the lights and the entire scene just felt magical.

     I remember walking past the Agora, through the Arch of Hadrian and the Monument to the winds, thinking of the mythology associated with the city state of Athens, appreciating the fact that the Western civilization as we know it started and flourished here. It is quite remarkable how the modern-day citizens of this country have preserved and protected what they could find of their ancient heritage so that the rest of the world may appreciate it.

     I remember thinking the same throughout our visit to the Museum of the Acropolis. Wandering the halls, admiring the incredible statues of Athena, Dionysus and countless other gods, excavated ruins of the Parthenon reliefs as well as everyday objects, the reproductions of the magnificent Caryatids, learning about the pottery and painting techniques of the ancient Greeks, I couldn't help but wonder how much of this information I would be able to recall in a few months!

     I remember climbing innumerable stone steps through the neighborhood of Anafiotika in the shadow of the Acropolis, scaring sedate alley cats while walking along tiny white washed houses with green shutters and red tile roofs, family tabernas, and little cafes selling strong greek coffee in copper brikis, listening to accordions and bouzouki playing timeless tunes in the weak afternoon sun.

     I remember walking the campus of ruins under the Acropolis - the immaculately preserved Theatre of Dionysus wondering how it must have looked when the citizens gathered here for debates and theatre and feeling small under the the remains of the sprawling Odeon.

     I remember turning a corner and seeing the massive gate, the Propylea and large marble steps leading on to the campus of the temple of Athena Nike, the Parthenon and the Erechthion. I remember how grand the Parthenon looked up close even with the scaffolding and the construction equipment marring its facade. I tried to imagine it brightly painted with the iconic Doric columns and the triangular pediments which once were decorated with massive sculptures depicting the birth of Athena. On the other side, the Erecthion stood proud with the Caryatids - the six women carved into columns - holding up its porch. Seeing these buildings that I had learnt about in school and later on watched on screen was an incredibly humbling experience.

     I remember the food and drinks! Whether main meals or snacks, I did not eat anything in Greece that I did not like. Borek, souvlaki, gyro, olives, tzatziki, a cucumber, onion and tomato salad drizzled with the freshest olive oil, moussaka, pita, pastitsio, baklava and heavenly galactoboureko - every meal was an ode to the taste and smell of olives, lemons, seawater and sunshine. I read this quote  by the Nobel laureate Odysseas Elytis, on a menu card about what he thinks Greece is made out of - “If you deconstruct Greece, you will in the end see, an olive tree, a grapevine and a boat remain. That is, with as much, you reconstruct her.”

         

     I remember my wallet being stolen from the pocket of my coat, exactly on the street where every tour guide book warned of pickpockets and in spite of all my efforts to be a wise traveler! This and the historically cold winter that Greece experienced around the time we were there were  two big black marks against an otherwise wonderful trip.

     I remember driving almost 3 hours out of Athens on highways, through mountain passes, and along narrow cliffside roads in search of Delphi. I had not anticipated the stony hills, cold winds and eventual snow(!) and wondered a few times if the trip was worth the effort. Past the ski resort of Parnassus, the signs for UNESCO heritage site of Delphi, Temple of Apollo and museum started to appear. By the time we reached the temple complex, it was an hour before closing time on a cloudy and cold evening. As I walked through the ruins, it was easy to see why this tiny village on Mount Parnassus was chosen as the seat of the Oracle of Delphi in the Temple of Apollo. If one walked all the way from the city of Athens and climbed the impossibly rocky mountain peaks, the Oracle would surely be satisfied with his piety and peek into his future! Here, too, the ruins are preserved in remarkably good condition and the footprint of the temple gives the visitor an idea of how grand the structure must have been. The artifacts found during excavations and restorations are showcased in the fine museum next door and display the wealth that the citizens of the various city states must have possessed and what they offered to their Oracles.

     I remember waking up really early one morning to get to the port of Piraeus and boarding the sleek high speed catamaran - the Flying Dolphin. Whizzing past lush islands in the Sarconic Gulf, in a very quick hour, we reached Hydra.

Pulling into the harbor, the view was breathtaking. It felt as if someone had painted a picture and proceeded to build it out. Small fishing boats and sailboats bobbed in the blue-green water, houses, buildings, and church steeples painted in pastel hues of yellow, blue and peach topped with orange tiles climbed the hills, holding on to struggling greenery between them, while the rocky mountains of the Zogeri range rose behind it all, into the clear blue sky. This tiny island has been protected as a heritage site and no vehicles are allowed into town; that work being done by donkeys and horses, that wait patiently at the harbor. Being out of the peak season, we were worried we wouldn't find any open restaurants but ended up eating a meal of the freshest seafood served by a very courteous staff. An obligatory touristy ride on the donkeys for kids through the deserted town ended our day on this picturesque Aegean island.

     I remember spending two restful days in an Agrotopista (farmhouse) in the tiny village of New Tiryntha, outside the port of Nafplion. Surrounded by citrus orchards and groves of olive trees, waking up to crowing roosters and friendly dogs, shopping in the local market for succulent lamb and cheese, it was a break from the history overload and big city experience of Athens. However, we did stumble upon the magnificent stadium of Epidaurus, at the site of the ruins of the ancient healing center dedicated to Esklepion and tested out the acoustics of this ancient amphitheatre. One can actually hear even whispers spoken on the central ‘stage’ on top of the 50th row of seats, carved into the mountainside!

     I remember praying that the weather plays nice as we boarded the plane for Santorini. We had planned the second leg of the Greece trip as a quiet, non-sight seeing stay on one of the most famous of the Greeks Isles. Winter in Greece was said to be mild but unpredictable and we were hoping to get at least couple of days of sunny weather. 

     I remember feeling a foreboding sense of quashed plans as I got out of the plane at the Thira International airport in Santorini to grey clouds and very strong, cold winds. Driving up to the hotel along the hillside, the extreme geography of this volcanic island was on full display. 

My memories of the five days on this island are of fantastic sunsets, crystal clear azure water on powdery black sand beaches, extreme winds, gorgeous views of the caldera and the blue-roofed soft white houses, deserted towns and eating Chinese food from the same family-run restaurant for lunch everyday.

 

This was a trip that did not turn out as planned and Santorini  is first on my list of places I hope to return to, most certainly in summer!

Greece as I experienced it was thrilling, majestic and unpredictable. With a famously glorious past, this nation struggling to find its identity in the present, still has a lot to offer to the world -   in food, music, nature, art, and most of all, really friendly people. This eventful trip to Athens and Santorini has given me memories and taught me lessons to last a lifetime. Efcharisto kai antio, Greece!