Homeward Bound

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Our tour was over:
Ten days exploring the wondrous temples and palaces of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu.
We were now homeward bound.

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Our journey had spanned a small arc of the subcontinent, from the Arabian Sea to the Indian Ocean.

We had crossed the Western Ghats to watch wild elephants, then slowly ambled our way through the Deccan Plateau:
From modern beaches and ancient temples to British architectural fantasies and bland concrete hotels;
Bustling towns to ruined cities. 

We enjoyed meals in both grand restaurants and humble bamboo food-stalls.
Tea fuelled our road travels while cool beers soothed our evening stops.
We had explored and watched and wondered.
Our time spent in observation of people
At work, rest and at prayer.

Like life itself,
An amazing journey encompassing delight, despair and discovery.

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Give A Little Whistle

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We had visited our final temple on this journey:
It was time for our last lunch on the road.

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Our restaurant, like many on the main street, employed a man to stand outside the premises,
armed with a whistle.
His role was to attract passing motorists, and guide them into parking places. There was no car-park as such, no marked spaces, or even smooth flat surfaces on which to bring your vehicle,
Just this road-side guide and his notional parking-lots. 

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With an authority granted by his whistle, the man blew vigorously and almost continuously.
The sound emitted was piercingly sharp.
Beyond discomfort, it bordered onto pain.

But he blew as if his life depended on it,
And perhaps it did…
Enthusiastic whistling is often what the restaurant owner needs to hear, if a “car-park attendant” wishes to keep his job, the free meals and meagre salary.

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The Plea

For hope…

And charity.

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Picture taken by the entrance of the Jambukeswarar Temple, Trichy, Tamil Nadu.

Within The Temple Walls

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On entering Trichy’s Jambukeswarar Temple, much of the frantic commerce quietens.

Despite the milling devotees

And in-house retail outlets,

It retains a sense of peaceful piety.

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The temple is a complex brew of dreams, devotion and domestic activities.

But still manages to breathe the air of religious worship.

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The Temple Approach

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From breakfast in Thanjavur to the grand and ancient temple of Trichy. 

The temple approach provides a thriving business enterprise zone.
All is for sale:

From kitchen utensils

To human hair, newly shorn from the faithful – an act of religious piety.

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Everyone appears to be involved

In either shopping,

Or fixing deals:

A heaving mass of bustling commerce which the children sit back and enjoy.

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Temple Tourists

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After a promenade in Pondicherry it was time to start the journey back towards India’s south-western coast.
Thanjavur was our overnight stop.

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A south Indian breakfast provides more than sufficient calories to fuel the rigours of temple tourism. But should hunger overwhelm the pilgrim, spiritual snacking is permitted.

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From Sea To Shining Sea

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The previous day’s journey had been hard and tiring:
Over 350 km (more than 200 miles), which is a long distance on Indian roads.
But our week of meandering travels had taken us from my home on the Malabar coast to the beaches of Tamil Nadu.
We had crossed a narrow southern portion of India’s great diamond, from the Arabian Sea to the Indian Ocean

Today the journey would be easier and more leisurely.
We began by driving from Mahabalipuram to Pondicherry:

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A route punctuated by rock-carvings, sea-salt harvests and an ocean promenade. 

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An Elegance Of Tea-Making

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Being on the road involves frequent stops for tea.
Quite apart from enjoying the drink, it is good to stretch your legs and give the driver a break.

The snacks and facilities are variable:

The proprietors are friendly but curious.

Each has a certain dignity

And could no doubt tell a moving story of life’s struggles.

Their tea?
Remarkably good, if sometimes a little smoky…

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Back On The Road

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It was Friday. We had been travelling for eight days.
The wonders of Hampi and Mysore still floated in and out of my thoughts.
The diverse temples were almost merging into a single amorphous memory.
But our travels were not over.
It was time to get back on the road.

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Before setting out again, there is usually the small matter of re-packing to be dealt with:

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My own packing skills show neither forethought nor patience.
Nowadays, I collect together what seems necessary, then leave my kind staff to do the rest.
A few minutes later, having compared my selection with what he thinks proper, Anu will invariably return with suggestions, such as:
“Papa, I think maybe you wanting some inner-wear*?”
 (*Indian English for underwear)

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He is practically always right. My planning is well on the way to becoming reliably unreliable.

Perhaps I am better suited to observing life from the sidelines.
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A River Runs Through It

“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow”

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Hampi sits alongside a river used for ritual bathing

And the washing of sacred artefacts.

The expression of a very human desire:

Release from the taint of corruption.

An aspiration which transcends all religious traditions.

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Among The Temple Ruins

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Hampi is such a vast archaeological complex that exploring it requires transport, a sense of purpose
And several bottles of water.

Otherwise even the hardiest tourist tends to wilt.

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The site consists of a truly remarkable array of beautiful temples and palace ruins, built between the 14th and 17th centuries.

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Sic transit gloria mundi..

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Temple Traders

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Finally we had arrived in Hampi,
The primary goal of our travels. 

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Hampi is a city long deserted.
All that remains are the ancient stone temples and palaces: some remarkably intact; others in various degrees of dilapidation.
But the vast site provides excellent opportunities for those wishing to make money,
From both tourists and pilgrims.

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Family businesses

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And children’s market stalls:

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Young men

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And old men:

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All ply their trades

In an exotic world where religious piety and financial profit seem reluctant to part.

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On The Road

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A long journey lay ahead of us.
Leaving our hotel in Belur early, we decided to take breakfast on the road.

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On my first visit to India, any thought of eating in one of the countless, road-side restaurants induced emotions ranging from a tight-lipped “I think not” to something verging on hypochondriacal terror.

Their cleanliness and décor can prove challenging to a Western eye.

But I have since learnt that the food served is invariably tasty, cheap and safe!
As expected, breakfast in this establishment was far better than any we had eaten in our tourist-class hotels.

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Back on the road, there was little to do but observe:

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Take lunch:

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Then observe once more:

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While the scenery changed:

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Until finally we reached Hampi,

Our hotel,
Cool showers
And cooler beers. 

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Temple Twilight

“..your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams..”

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Our day began in Mysore.
Seductive mangos had waylaid us along the journey.
By lunchtime, Halebidu was being explored.
And now, at dusk, we were in another city and another temple.
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The Chennakesava temple of Belur was built by the same Hoysala kings who constructed the temples in Halebidu.

We arrived as the sun was starting to set.
The perfect time to sit peacefully and observe a temple, its artefacts and its people:

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Until finally we slipped away into the night.

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Temple Light

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Shafts of light pierced the massive walls of the two temples

Revealing colours in the stonework not apparent under the tropical sun’s glare.

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Thick temple walls kept the interiors cool and shaded.

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The Temples Of Stone

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Our mango-fed journey had brought us to Halebidu,
A name that means “Ruined City” 

Nine hundred years ago, this was the capital of an ancient Dravidian kingdom which was twice laid waste by invaders.

But two stone temples still stand strong,

With their impressive relief sculptures largely intact.

Silent echoes of long-forgotten glories.

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The Mango Mountains

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Having left the hotel in Mysore we headed north.

Along the roadside were serried ranks of fruit sellers, each with pyramids of fresh ripe mangos on their carts.

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With so much competition, the vendors were signalling passing traffic to stop and buy.
Using the excuse of it being a good idea to stretch our legs, we decided to make a brief stop
And indulge.

Incredibly sweet, beautifully ripe and dripping with juice: they were delicious.

It took almost a full bottle of mineral water to clear the stickiness from my hands!

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Tea For Two.. Or Three..

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We had spent the weekend in Mysore.
Monday morning required an early start to continue our tour.

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Though, as the song so neatly puts it:
“I like a nice cup of tea in the morning.”

Normally, I am woken each day by my kindly house-boy’s greeting of:
“Good morning Papa. You sleep OK?”
He carries a large mug of this wonderful drink.
Its absence would imply some sort of crisis.

Before living in India, I assumed the subcontinent would be awash with tea.
I was mistaken.
Coffee is now the more popular drink in India.
When not at home, trying to get a cup of tea any time outside of breakfast and “tea-time” can prove challenging.
Even ordering early morning tea in a tourist hotel brings surprises to the unwary.

In India, tea powder (finely ground lea leaves), milk and copious amounts of sugar are all boiled together in the preparation of tea.
Should you not wish to court diabetes or dental disaster with this decidedly caustic brew of syrupy tannins, firm instruction to room service are required:
“Please. Sugar Separate!” 

When the order is delivered to your room the consequences of a different tea culture are made manifest.

The spoons are often enormous -
- And the cups invariably minute.

My solution is to order tea for two – or three.
Occasionally this stirs the waiters to peer with puzzlement around the hotel room, in search of my early morning guests.
But more often, it is merely attributed to further eccentricities in the firangi.

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The tea, by the way, was excellent!

A Fine Balance

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One of the many delights of life in India is that you never know what’s around the corner.
In this case, just around the corner from my home, where a small drama was unfolding. 

Here one can expect the unexpected…

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I shall return to an account of my travels tomorrow.
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Twilight Traders

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We had experienced the magic of its palace and the piety of its temples. Our time in Mysore was almost over.
After taking our last evening meal in one of the city’s many restaurants, we walked back to the hotel through the city’s dark but still crowded streets.

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In India, even at night, the shops remain busy.

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