| Submitted by: Mark R. Leeper and Evelyn C. Leeper United States |
| Submission Date: 07 February 2005 |
|
 |
|
When people talk about how there are
pornographic temple carvings in India--and we have heard that for years--
they are talking about Khajurao. Incidentally, they are called erotic and
Mark guesses it is a matter of taste. He would call them explicit and
perhaps pornographic, but a long way from being erotic. Evelyn would
describe them as emphasizing the athletic and contortionist rather than the
enjoyable. Sorry to disappoint. Why are there these carvings here? One
explanation is that the god of lightning is a dirty old man and would no
more strike one of these temples with lightning than Jimmy Swaggart would
burn his pile of PENTHOUSE magazines. Others have suggested that they are a
tribute to the joy of life or a manual for young Hindu boys. However, why
these temples are in the middle of nowhere, just halfway between no place
and someplace nobody wants to go--that is less of a mystery. If the
invading puritanical Muslims would have found out about the temples they
would have smashed them and utterly destroyed them, as they did with
countless others which were *not* in the middle of nowhere. Of course,
those were less enlightened times. Right? Wrong! Just this year, Islamic
fundamentalists in Egypt got a phone call from Allah saying that all the
temples, pyramids, and sphinxes from before Islam came to Egypt have to be
destroyed. If you have been to Egypt, you know that the early Muslims
already did a real number on what was left of the ancient Egyptian sites.
Now Allah is once again calling for the destruction of the priceless world
heritage, or so Egyptian fundamentalists say. For years the Egyptian
government has called for the return of Egyptian relics to Egypt. They may
stop now if ancient Egyptian relics become the targets of terrorists.
But we are digressing again. We paid our half rupee each for admission
and went to the first temple. This is in the Western Group of temples that
is in the middle of town and is by far the best. There is also a Southern
Group and an Eastern Group. There are about fifteen temples in the Western
Group. The first temple you visit is Lakshmani Temple and that has got to
be the high point of our trip to India. This temple is just spectacular.
This is a temple of classic beauty, like those in Thailand or Cambodia, but
much more ornate. It has a high spire in the center curved outwards,
vaguely like a cucumber but a little more pointed. This is on top of a
temple at the four corners of which are almost pyramidal shrines. Actually,
many of them are also curved out like a cucumber. And all this is on a
platform with stairs leading up to it. And while it looks Asian, it also
looks a lot like something out of Chichen Itza in Mexico. In fact, the
architecture is very reminiscent of Chichen Itza, even to its setting in the
sparse vegetation. When you want around the temple you even see waterspouts
disguised as heads that look very much like something out of Meso-America.
All around the temple in bands a foot or two high are carvings.
Sometimes they are as innocent as a dancing Ganesha. They may be a dancing
Parvati. Or they could be a man having *** with a horse. The figures often
have very delicate features. Some hand will have just a very delicate turn.
One face will have a very subtle expression. There are repeating creatures
called sardulas. They look very lion-like. At the corners of the platform
on which the temple is built will often be an image of a maiden touching the
chest of a sardula.
A class was visiting the temple site and as we looked at the sculpture
they surrounded us and tried out their English on us. Mark joked with them
for a few minutes until their teacher herded them away.
In the dark insides of the temple there is the odor of bats. In one we
heard bats chirping. Evelyn said that she thought they were birds but later
Mark did see a bat swoop down. Besides, the shrines smelled a lot like
Carlsbad Caverns.
It would have been a good idea to bring loafers since at each temple
you have to slip out of your shoes to go inside. As a second best, Mark
loosened the laces of his running shoes to be able to slip into and out of
them easily. Evelyn had sandals on, so that was easier to manage.
As we went into a temple, an Indian woman with her family spotted
Mark's camera. She very excitedly pointed to the camera and gestured to him
to take her picture. He agreed and she called to her whole family to line
up and pose. Then her husband wrote their address in the back of Mark's
trip log. Yes, it was a hustle for them to get a free photo of them on
their vacation--that is, if the American gets around to sending it to them
and if he can get it addressed correctly.
An older man in a Nehru sort of hat (two flat sides almost like a Boy
Scout hat) saw this exchange and asked where we were from. He spoke very
good English and gave Mark his name. He was Dr. Something and was a
linguist who studied regional dialects in India. He was traveling to see
his own country. He philosophized that there should be peace in the world
since we are all one. He was very affable and very well spoken. He would
have been almost impossible not to like. We sympathize with his ideals.
By the way, Evelyn thought that one of the best things about the
Western Group was that it is a haven from hawkers and touts, who are not
allowed in. You hear just the sounds of nature and other tourists, but
since there are not a lot of the latter, it is very restful, with nicely
landscaped grounds around the temples. We spent three hours walking around
looking at all the carvings (this included about fifteen minutes for Mark's
conversation with the linguist). Most of the tourists here are Indian, with
some German and even a few Japanese. The cycle-rickshaw driver had said
there were also a lot of tourists from Israel, which Evelyn found hard to
believe until she saw a bicycle rental sign in English and Hebrew! And
later on, we did meet tourists from Israel (with Hebrew editions of the
Lonely Planet guide!) who said that India was a popular destination from
Israel because it was close (only a five-hour flight) and cheap.
We saw a few more temples, then left and returned to the museum which
was now open. It is not a big museum, but as with the museum in the Red
Fort there is sufficient to be of interest. Given the choice, it is better
to see the museum before the temples. After the temples, the museum is
anti-climactic. The museum guard showed Mark around the museum, either to
be friendly or in the hopes of a tip. Mark interpreted it as the former and
the guard did not ask for a tip. As the heat of noon came on us, we hired a
cycle-rickshaw back to the hotel for Rs15. When we got there, however, he
suggested we hire him to see the other temples that afternoon and pay him at
the end.
For the middle part of the day we wrote in our logs and rested. We
went to lunch in the hotel. Mark had curried vegetables and Evelyn had
chana masala. Mark noticed there was another couple in the dining room, but
could not tell if they were speaking English. We would see them again at
dinner. After lunch we did some laundry. Clothes get dirty very fast here.
At 3:30 PM the cycle-rickshaw returned and we rode to the Southern
Group of temples. These are not as well-preserved or as well-managed as the
Western Group. At each is an attendant who forcibly explains the decoration
and then wants baksheesh. Since the explanation is redundant after the
first time, it is extortion, but not too unpleasant because of the small
amounts concerned. The setting is also not as nice. It wouldn't be bad if
they were out away from everything, but they are next to run-down huts and
shacks, which detracts from their majesty somewhat.
(Men can skip this paragraph if they wish.) Evelyn writes in her log:
One of the things the guide books never talk about is the effect of travel
and time zone changes on women's monthly cycles, so maybe it's just me, but
I find that moving many time zones to the east tends to make my period
arrive a few days early. It happened in Africa and it happened here. Here
it added the further complication that menstruating women are not allowed in
Hindu temples (or in mosques, for that matter). Yes, I know the obvious
question is, How do they check? but I assume it's the honor system. In
any case, I have seen enough temple interiors in the morning to suffice. I
am glad that I didn't miss the temples in Varanasi, though; they were
unique. And there are no major mosques until the end of the trip.
Welcome back, men. (Actually, we bet you all read that paragraph
anyway.)
We went to the two temples of the Southern Group. They are out near
the airport. At each there was an old thin handicapped man begging. Mark
took a picture of one and gave him Rs2, but just ignored the one at the
other temple. AT&T's security package recommends in India that you do not
give to beggars and that you should not photograph beggars. Mark made an
exception and he hopes it helps the beggar.
We then went to the Eastern Group. The interior of the Jain temple
here was supposed to be interesting, but Mark decided to stay with Evelyn
and see only the outsides of the temples. The Eastern complex is bigger
than and more interesting than the Southern temples. (The Southern
complex is only two temples and they are not all that interesting.) The
Eastern Group is a group of temples in a compound, much closer together than
those in the Western Group. Where in the latter, the temples were a hundred
yards or more apart, here they were only ten or twenty. But it does not
have anything to compare with the Western complex. While interesting, the
Eastern temples were pretty much more of the same and we were probably
getting templed out.
We finished this complex as it was starting to get darker. Our driver
(cyclist?) took us through the old village of Khajurao. Actually, this was
an excuse to take us to a couple of shops (as Evelyn suspected) but we also
got to see what is undoubtedly a more authentic village than the collection
of shops, hotels, and restaurants that is the modern village of Khajurao
outside the Western Group. We did some minimal shopping, buying two fake
antiquity coins. This took quite a while, as the vendor couldn't make
change from a Rs50 note for a Rs35 purchase. This lack of change seems
almost universal. We can almost understand it for a rickshaw driver, but
even the hotel has trouble making change for meals. Apparently this was the
cyclist's village and he showed us the outside of his house.
As we were riding we happened to pass the airport just as the plane
from Varanasi was coming in (on time today) and it passed directly overhead
and not very high up. It's noisy but so far there are only two flights a
day; Evelyn is surprised they don't add more as there is usually a waiting
list for flights.
Finally we went back to the hotel about 6PM. At this point we were
reminded of why one should establish prices ahead of time. He had said we
should pay what [we] want. We wanted to pay Rs150, but he wanted
considerably more. Eventually we ended up paying Rs265 (it would have been
Rs275 but he didn't have change), not really over-priced by our standards
but probably considerably over-priced by local standards. Evelyn thinks the
most annoying part of traveling here by far is having to negotiate
everything you want and ward off everyone trying to sell you something you
don't want. At this point, she supposed we would get used to this and
develop better techniques as we've been here longer, but while our technique
improved, we never really got used to it.
At dinner the same couple Mark had seen at lunch came in. (We are
trying to pick hotels that have good restaurants, as getting out for dinner
is not as easy here as it was in Southeast Asia.) This time they were
obviously speaking English. |
|
| Copyright © - "Mark R. Leeper and Evelyn C. Leeper" |
|
 |
| Other travelogues by the same author: |
|
|
|
