Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Pune Street Scenes V: Ganapathi Bestoweth Happiness

It is difficult to associate the street scenes of Pune during ganapathi puja season as anything approaching one in which one is immersing one’s self in Ganesha solemnly; rather it is one in which one is hoping to be among those on whom Ganesha bestows happiness. The nature of the happiness depends on the individual’s needs at that time and so it is sufficient to be happy to realize that one has been bestowed with happiness. Basta!? The beginning of this blog will have to be a little essaying of the essay kind. The latter half is mainly pictures of the impression kind.

As always, click on the pictures to enlarge and get a better view


To perform a ganapathi puja, one should find a ganapathi; just as a German should find a book of instructions before starting any machine. A purist would make a ganapathi from mud without using a mould. The ganapathi should be installed at home and the family should participate in the worship preferably as a joint family. That should be sufficient cause for happiness. It is also true that such joint family happiness cannot be sustained throughout the year. There could be some other reasons associated with ganapathi which is too sophisticated for me and could require an understanding of theory of particles and virtual photons and octet theory, before one understands gana (as a spiritual particle from Sanskrutkosh, or as a vasu from Panini or as a collection of triyak or tama frequencies from Nighantukosh) and before one understands ganapathi as the nurturer of such ganas. All that high energy is sufficient to clean a home but cannot be sustained at home for more than a few days---of that, one can be reasonably sure.

Most of us Indians are singularly untalented in almost all spheres of creative expression. Not to worry!? Dag Hammarskjöld, the second Secretary General of United Nations, at a time when UN was important to the world, would say this of himself; John Kennedy would call him “… the greatest statesman of the world.” In this modern India where the medicine men in the shape of pharmaceutical companies, and kings (in the shape of non-innovative “industrialists” protected by government licences), and IT czars (who sell the innate Indian skill of counting and logic to gives fresh life to the erstwhile clerks of East India company) pass off originality for the way good “singularly untalented” skills may be sold at cheapest rates to foreign companies so at have enough money to buy foreign arms and other luxuries. Such “entrepreneurs” have probably squeezed all day-to-day skills of ordinary living from the hapless middle class. Few now make any idol. We only worship them. One requires buying images of modern idols (Salman Khan, Rakhi Sawant, her mother) if only to show our worship. It also helps to promote the economy, whatever that means.

Forunately, most Indians are young and unfettered, and happy, without obligations to worship.

The place where the majority of idols is sold is near Kumbharwada near dagdi pul (now Dengre bridge). It is on the bank of the river opposite Shaniwar wada between the Dengle bridge and the new Corporation bridge. The original dagdi pul was at a lower level; a remnant of this bridge is probably seen below the present Dengle bridge in the google map at (http://wikimapia.org/#lat=18.5246811&lon=73.857286&z=16&l=0&m=s&v=9). It could also have been at the submerged structure (http://wikimapia.org/#lat=18.5230534&lon=73.8560629&z=16&l=0&m=s&v=9) in front of the old Punyeshvar temple over which the Darga of Chote Shaikh Salla Baba is supposed to have been built. Dagdi Pul was the main and perhaps only entrance to Pune gaon from other villages during Nanasaheb Peshwa’s time (~1720-1761). It is Nanasaheb (or Balaji Bajirao) who had transformed the Poona gaon to a city during his reign. After the debacle at Panipat, when Nanasaheb lost his son and brother, he felt ashamed to enter the city through Dagdi pul and he built (nearly 250 years ago) another wooden bridge, the Lakdi pul, which would later become Sambhaji bridge.

This stretch of land where the idols are sold still has the old world charm and one can imagine oneself, looking at the trees and the river (near bottom left of collage) to be transported to the time of the Peshwas if one can ignore the traffic and other urban noise (we can do it, incroyably, when we want); one can imagine, people from surrounding villages transporting idols to Pune and stocking them (as on the top right of the collage) to be sold to the residents of Kasbapet on the other side. The idols would have been made of mud and decorated with wooden beads and flowers. They now arrive made from alabaster and painted with enamel and wrapped in paper. As can be seen from the collage there are ganapatis of all colours and shape and size. The popular ones are of Aryan colours (what else?) without becoming white elephants. There are ganeshas who would be like shivaji, or Sai Baba, or other deities, or sit on a dolphin, or be dressed in Shiva’s animal skin, or whatever one fancies (see Fig 1).

Once a purchase is made the idol is transported away by the customer who customarily covers ganapatis face with (red usually) cloth. Ganesha is traditionally a modest family affair and was not meant to be ostentatious. On Ganesh chaturthi or a day before that Ganesha may be seen being carried on a wooden platform by the nominal head of the house with the idol facing the man carrying accompanied by celebrating family members. On reaching the house the idol should face the main door while entering the house. His face is covered all the while till he is installed properly on a platform covered with whole grains of rice.

The private nature of worship changed when the practical minded “freedom” hero, Tilak, strategized to have the Ganesh puja on a public scale (around 1893) so that religious Hindutva fervour would unite the fight for “freedom”; just as BJP would use it for their fight for political power. Tilak would later say that both Hindu and Muslim fervour was important and went further to add (during a Shivaji festival in Bengal) that a great hero like Shivaji could be Mohammedan; just as Advani and Jaswant Singh would have liked to say about Jinnah? They could not say, however, that Jinnah could as well have been a Hindu!


Lokmanya Gangadhar Tilak’s house or Tilak Wada near ABC (Appa Balwant Chowk, I have to find out whether appa balwant is Vasudev Balwant, the father of Indian revolutionaries who took over Pune from the British for a few days, was imprisoned, and who actually died of a non-violent hunger strike in 1893, when Tilak sought a softer option for raising the revolutionary spirit) is itself rather opulent with an imposing door (Fig 2 left), with plaster work (Fig 2 center) reminding people of his various successes (a water drop on my lens due to the rainy season leaves a blur). Tilak himself is seated (Fig 2 right) more prominently behind several ganeshas; a large Honda car, of the deemed Tilak Maharashtra University, belonging to its Vice Chancellor, Deepak Jayantrao Tilak, great grandson of Tilak (who recently switched party from the Congress party of the Lokmanya to the deemed rightist Hindu party of BJP), is parked in front.

It should be important at some time to understand how the public psyche of the average marathi manoos was changed from the transformation from a private Ganapathi puja to a public Ganapathi festival. Acording to Shabbir Khan’s biography “Tilak and Gokhale: a comparative study…”, Tilak appeared to Gandhi “…like an ocean on which one could not launch forth; and Gokhale by contrast was like the Ganges which invited one to bosom. Tilak always lived in a crowd and Gokhale…in small companies.” I suppose the difference was similar to that between Nehru and Lal Bahdur Shastri. One of them was flashy and showy with a published record of statesmanship and scholarship, the other was shy and reticent but still firm and resolute; one was loved the other was trusted. Tilak’s rich and noisy Gaekwad Wada reputation prevailed. The mandals and their flamboyant interpretation of the festival took over for the public gaze instead of the introspective private worship. Agarkar’s disappointment with Tilak “ … no amount of plain writing can set right a person whose one business all along has been self glorification at the cost of honesty, unity, friendship, public duty and several other social virtues.” Like all traditions good or bad such behaviour is typical of many present leading Indian public figures and many of our leading “intellectuals” and “scientists” and “educationists”? The ordinary people would be lethargic in showing such leadership, which they think is often misrepresented as dynamism.

The rest of the blog will be about this flamboyant and noisy Tilak-like part. It has its momentary pleasures. It has also a spontaneity stemming from a very old history of living without in any way being cognizant of the power of the gods…. The celebration is perhaps just a love of the gods’ love of the people’s love. I will not be consistent in emphasizing in italics a word in an Indian language, nor in the various names will I call ganapathi by. There are also a fairly large number of video clips which may not work on clipping on it. I think the video clips add to the content even if some of them may require you to turn the computer by 90 degrees, which may be inconvenient, but is possible with a lap top.

The ganapathi season of 2009 has been the season of swine flu which the ham, bacon and pork industry changed to the H1N1 virus disease. The pharmaceutical industry benefited most from the H1N1 awareness… As they say Faith can move virus and there was considerable amount of mask-awareness with wearing actual masks (used masks being discarded freely in dust bins below Coca Cola perpetrators, Fig 3 left) or a holding a notional handkerchief to one’s face being thought to be sufficient (fig 3 center); at least for those who were not convinced about Ganesha’s protections since the virus may not have been started with his blessing… Finally it was case of embracing Ganesha with peacock feathers (Fig 3 right) before swine flu.


The August-September months of Ganapathi comes after the monsoon when Pune has already been soaked by nearly continuous rain for three months. Even in 2009, when there is a deficit of rain, there is enough wetness for a green moss-like coating on the walls which adds a verdant glow to the buildings. In Fig 4 left we are looking at the roof of the Tulsibag ram mandir while in the center of Fig 4 we are looking at the exit out of the mandir towards the Tulsibag “shopping mall”. This is the robust Pune-ite’s exuberant and practical shopping area that shuns the pseudo-western shopping mall culture. I am reminded always of the Okachimachi shopping area of Tokyo even if there is not the Yamanote line to get there. The third picture on the right of Fig 4 would be seen on old tiled buildings. This one is near one of the older and popular ganesh mandals, the Dagdu sheth mandal on Shivaji Road, near Faraskhana police station. Besides the green cover, this small building has, on the top floor, a computer shop named Computek, a photograph studio and a snacks joint selling vada pav among other Marathi fast food.


Once in the Tulsibag mandir complex during Ganesh festival, brass or bronze images (Fig 5) of Ganesha are seen. Before the chaturthi (fourth day of the moon) not much attention is paid to Ganesh who can be seen in the image on the left reading a book while waiting for his time. More attention is paid instead to Gauri. Gauri is thought elsewhere to be Parvati, daughter of Himlayas and wife of Siva. Gauri, the mother of Ganesha, is the fair version of the benign Parvati, daughter of himlayas and wife of Siva, while the “fearful” (to whom?) Kali is the darker version. Gauri is also known as Kanya Parvathi (the young unmarried Parvathi) representing purity and austerity and worshipped by maidens to become a wife of a virtuous husband.



When one enters the Tulsibag street, one would think that the more important part of the Ganesh festival is that associated with Gauri. Gauri has to be first assembled and then decorated (like the Gauri in the right corner of Fig 6). So one has a variety of Gauri heads, bloused chests, hands and jewels in the shops and it’s a pleasure for the ladies to do unto Gauri, what they would hopefully do unto themselves with more genuine stuff. Like all worships all over the world, the more the public worship the more the private profits.


They would also sell nandi the bull (like the girl under the umbrella, Fig 7 center), an important member of Siva’s family being his vehicle. Other decoration items such as garlands and festoons and balloons are sold happily and bought compulsively for private worships.


It seems that in Pune and some other parts of Maharashtra, Gauri is taken to be the sister of Ganesh especially during the Vinayak Chaturthi which is the time for the Ganesha Festival. Idols of Goddess Gauri (one for puja of Mahalakshmi) are usually sold in pairs (see image to the left in figure 8; four hands in a packet are sold, Fig 6 right) and brought home as sisters of Ganesha two days after ganesh Chaturthi and immersed in water after three days.

Why should Gauri, universally acknowledged as Parvathi the mother of Ganapati, be treated as a sister of Ganesha? It does not seem to matter to the ordinary worshipper, who, in any case, does not seem to belong to the majority class. It probably has to do with the beliefs of the ruling class. This small confusion of whether Gauri is mother of Ganesha or sister of Ganesha need not be of too much concern to us (or even Ganesha) since we require Ganesha’s permission to start the puja in any case.

The people of Bengal generally recognize Lakshmi and Saraswathi as sisters of Ganesha so that there could be a Bengal connection to the celebration of Gauri sisters. It is said that the Gaur Brahmins, who lived on the Saraswathi river, migrated to kanauj during Parshuram’s time, when the river went underground (whatever that means; dried up about the time of Indus valley civilization?), and then went on to Gaur in Bengal where they became kanyakubja Brahmins (Gangulys, Mukherjees, Banerjees and so on) and learnt to love eating fish. Because of water scarcity, Parsuram took them to Konkan where they would get the fish they had come to love.

All the while preparations are on for the public pomp and pageantry aspects of Tilak’s ganapathi festival by the various mandals many of whom started functioning around 1893 at the behest of Tilak. The rest of the blog will be the festival on Pune’s streets, although Hutatma Babu Genu Ganesh Mandal and the Dagdusheth Ganapathi will feature more prominently.

As one comes eastward out of the Tulsibag internal road, the Dagdusheth Ganapathi mandal is to the left and that of the Hutatma Ganapathi is to the left. On the way to the Hutatma pandal near Mahatma Phule Mandai, the street in front of the Suvarnayug Sahakari bank is buzzing with Ganeshutsav (Ganesh festival) activities two days before Ganesh Chaturthi. There were huge elephant parts strewn all over which was being assembled for a gajapathi mahal in which Ganesha was to be installed. Between the legs of an installed elephant (Fig 9 center) sits a lady selling ganapathi puja ware (banana plant, ketaki or screw pine leaves). Behind the lady one can see a tank being built. The elephants are arranged in rows with their raised trunks forming an archway to the temporary palace in which Ganesha is to be installed.


Further down the street, walking northwards, one comes to the dagdusheth mandal’s mahal (Fig 10 bottom right), with intricate finishing touches (Fig 10) being given before ganapathi is installed (in the area at Fig 10 bottom left). This year, because of the depression in the financial markets (signaled by unused advertisement billboards behind the mahal) the scale of decoration is said to have been toned down.


The fun of the public ganeshutsav lies in the procession that takes the idol to the various ganapathi mandals. The more pompous the procession, the less is the fun of the individual participating in the procession. Usually, this procession has a band of followers singing bhajans and dancing for the glory of the lord. Nowadays, these processions consist of a vehicle carrying the idol, which is accompanied by a live, liveried band and a vehicle carrying loud speakers (sound blasters) amplifying the sound mainly from the person playing on a synthesizer so that the noise made by the live band is drowned out. The dance is more boisterous but has the advantage of being spontaneous and suited for the garishly contemporary music.


When we set out in the morning before Ganesh Chaturthi for some household chores we would pass a procession on our Pashan-Sus Road. There was the idol, the vehicle carrying the synthesizer and the band (Fig 11 left). There was no procession of followers or devotees as such except those sitting near the idol. When we came back home a band was playing. They were installing (Fig 12) the idol in a pandal opposite our building (Mont Vert I). Ganpathi’s face was covered with a red cloth. The band had to play during the installation. There were no followers or devotees to dance.








Fortunately for ganapathi bappa, there is an auto-rickshaw stand at the corner where there are some drivers who love to sit and chat and finish some spirits. They are, like the paisanos in Steinbeck’s Tortilla flat or Cannery Row, loved life. For them, the auto rickshaw stand is where they collected and chatted. Among them there were a selfless few who would gladly encourage potential customers to take another rickshaw. If for some reason they had to ferry a customer they made sure that they came back quickly. They celebrated all festivals. When the band struck up they happily joined in, conjuring up some steps that would make Michael Jackson blush. In the first of these (pashansus1.mp4) Ganesha is being installed while his face is covered. In the second (pashansus2.mp4) they are in the process removing the cloth from his face. In the third (pashansus3.mp4) he is properly installed. The noise of the sound blaster would go late into the night. There were to be few if any worshippers at the pandal. The music would, however, go on till 11 in the night if were lucky. The Ganesha was installed by some industrialist or a rich devotee for publicity purposes. So it mattered that the music was loud and the neighbourhood devotees were obliged to consider it a blessing.








When we went back into town later in the afternoon, we were unable to locate any procession of the bigger mandals. On the way we saw an elephant (Fig 11 center) trying to avoid traffic. After searching around near Deccan gymkhana we heard drum sounds emanating from Kelkar road when we crossed Sambhaji bridge (ladki pul). We managed to get a glimpse of the procession (Fig 12 right). There was a happy and exuberant procession (Fig 13 left and centre) with the participation of children and adults, an original dramatic use of soap spray and a lady attendant of the lord (kelkar1a.mp4), the traditional music was provided by typical Maharashtrian Nagaras (flat drums played with sticks), with the Ganapati in a traditional red colour similar to those of the ashta vinayaks (kelkar2.mp4). On our way back there was an enthusiastic group of girls accompanying Ganesha home (Fig 13, right; kelkargirls.mp4).

The installations of the pandals were complete within two days, the most impressive being that of the Hutatma Babu Genu Ganesh Mandal, which had the water reservoirs with lotus flowers and elephants in place (Fig 14 left), the idol properly worshipped by important announced worshippers (Fig 14 centre), while the ordinary worshippers were draped in the auspicious red glow of white Ganapathi (Fig 14 right).


The dagdu sheth mandap (fig 15) did not have its serpentine queues of worshippers because of the swine flu dampener. There were very few masked devotees with even the security guards keeping their masks removed (Fig 15 centre); the smoke of the prayers (Fig 15 right) must have helped in the defumigation.



There were several other Ganeshas installed with their lower right palm having the abhaya mudra (that removes fear) in most cases although some as in Fig 16 left shows the calming Guyan Mudra. Most Ganeshas have a modak in his lower left hand which is convenient because his trunk is usually shown to be towards his left. The more pompous ganapathis usually have weapons on the other two hands, while some more modest ganeshas such as that in Fig 16 right have a book and a conch.







The sounds and activity around the bigger mandals for these H1N1 times is still impressive. The sounds of Ganapati baapa Moriya, so typical of Maharashtra and specially of Pune, are heard around the Dagdusheth mandal during aarti (moriya re2.mp4; fig 17 top left). In the Hutatma mahal the milling crowds are treated to some light traditional music (elephant mandal.mp4; Fig 17 top right). The lighting of the Hutatma mandal (Fig 17, bottom) is rather impressive.


In the midst of all this worship and bestowing of Ganapati’s love on the worshippers, there are those who would love to have the revenues for worship. They sell lotus (water lilies actually) flowers and balloons and usually look (Fig 18) quite famished unless they are serenaded through the night by a flautist. Their miseries must increase when they see the pav-bhaji stalls (Fig 19) with the colours of Ganesha tantalizingly before them


The most spectacular event during the Ganesh Festival is the immersion of the idols. The bigger mandals take about twenty four hours and more. This year the bigger mandals succeeded in doing it in less time (16-20 hours). We should have gone in the night. We thought early morning would have been sufficient. The last stages of the immersion procession (ganapat immersion lion.mp4; Fig 20 and 21 left) involving the smaller mandals was on the Jangli Maharaj Road. People were still dancing in the procession accompanied by very non-worshipful music---the kind of music that modern youth from the rich and the newly emerging rich can dance to happily---that comes with the bestowing of happiness by Ganesha. The traffic was still blocked on the road. The boys (immersion boys.mp4; fig 20 center) probably danced through the night and the girls (immersion girls and pink sari.mp4) probably were fresh if one looked at the lively lady in the pink sari.









As we walked back home, the sindur-drenched revelers (Fig 21 left) were taking some rest. There were no H1N1 virus masks to be seen this morning. The only mask was on the face of a tiger that was being carried. It reminded me of a well known limerick about a lady and a tiger which I have rephrased for the occasion (I must make it better, I know)
Ganesha went masked with his tiger,
`cos of H1N1 virus.
When immersed in river,
He knew flu’ll last longer,
and put the mask on face of the Tiger
.


The joys of Ganapathi in a procession has been there for more than at least 250 years and has been shown (Fig 22 left) in a painting from the Peshwa’s school of arts. The music and dance as a manifestation of ganesha’s happiness may have changed a bit but the spirit of joy continues in the gauri as mother grandmother sister daughter(Fig 22 right) as it should. Where else but in the streets of Pune?!


Sunday, August 9, 2009

Just Pontification 2: Where have all the Children gone!

After many days, I participated in a full Bengali Family Wedding celebration. As you know weddings are eventually meant for raising families with children and not as a reason for living together. I will come to that later.

Weddings are also a happy occasion for families to get together. Almost the entire of the surviving joint Ganguly family was there.

Before going anywhere on any discussion it is normal for any healthy family get-together to first discuss the culinary delights which necessarily compensates, if necessary, for all the stresses and distresses of the occasion. Take care of the skin as they say and the kin takes care of themselves. After all, all communications are through interfaces.

The food was beyond compare, especially for alien or prabashi Bengalis like myself. It was authentic ghoti Bangali cooking and included its normal quota of rasgolla and sandesh including some imported from Kolkata. There was among other excellent dishes the following:-
shukto (which can be authentic in several ways, but must have poshto and ginger),
aloo poshto :poshto or poppy seeds contain opium. Besides being a coolant and being rich in calcium; its extract is among the best for sleeplessness or insomnia and also explains why Bengali gentlemen, the real bhadralok types, cannot do without their sleep after a good meal; --- as a sardar son-in-law noted immediately. Authentic poshto cooking requires grinding on stone (there is no two ways about it) and is disappearing in modern “mixy”-equipped kitchens.
chanchra : a dish Bengalis love made from left overs --- vegetables, fish’s head and entrails--- which proper Bengalis love to love; my late Eton and Oxford bar-at-law Gounder Jamibabu, the best of best men, could not get himself to not loathe it --- he wouldn't even get himself to pronounce it properly!. Your bengaliness depends on how much you love a chanchra, which only good cooks and mothers can make.
Sorsebata Ilish maacher jhaal: Hilsa fish, like the salmon or the shad, are sea fish which swim upstream to spawn. They are best to taste in rivers of the Gangetic delta of Bengal, especially Bangladesh. The taste of the Ilish maach is proportional to the number of bones and so, for a proper Bengali, you intuitively/instinctively pick out the bones from the fish and your mouth and pile them neatly on your plate, without ever breaking your conversation. This dish is properly made using ground (on stone as always) mustard of the pungent Indian kind, tamarind or tetul (especially if you are from Bangladesh), poshto, large number of green chillies to give the hot jhaal or gravy. The father of the bride imported the fish directly from Kolkata during the wedding.

Having discussed the cooking, we are now free to discuss other matters.

This wedding was not, however, really the wedding celebration of our youth, in one important, and at first unnoticed, way.

It differed not so much by the infectiousness of the family enthusiasm, especially from those of our generation. The family celebrating their daughter’s wedding were wonderful people simply because they --- father, mother, son, daughter and daughter-in-law---refused to find any fault in anybody except themselves, if at all it was necessary to find fault, since things were so seamless and smooth.

Nor did this wedding differ by the number or nature of the “clever”, typically “ganguly baadi” comments, which we attributed to our paternal grandmother’s father, who, of course, was not a ganguly. The generation next to ours came up with equal quality “clever” lines.

The difference between this wedding and the ones from earlier generations, came in the number of kids (below 15-20 years in age) at the wedding. We were seven or eight from our generation at this wedding with an average age near 65. There was only one kid from the second generation after us (with another awaiting delivery).

Where have all the children gone indeed!
It is not a question; as you would have noticed ... it is a sigh.
This blog will address this sigh.
It won’t be as much as where but why have all the children gone --- in the “upper” strata.

The sigh will be dealt with more in American terms than Indian terms because it is a global problem, perhaps.
In the Indian context, it is so not only because upper class India would love to be mistaken as proper Americans---even if they may not have wanted to be mistaken as proper black Americans---but because American events influence upper class Indian mindsets disproportionately.

I will not try to actually answer the question by bringing in other issues such as internet voyeurism, environmental degradation, genetically modified food, seedless fruits, synthetic clothing and/or underwear, birth control pills, peer pressure, and so on. These views will emerge later or have already emerged I guess in other blogs.

I will try to go through the emotions expressed in the lyrics (written photos) of popular songs of that time.
As far as I am concerned the popular songs of a period reflect the popular mindsets of the period. It is in the historicity of the lyrics that we have to be interested in, even if it is specified/identified by name.

The blog could have been shorter, I guess, but catch me writing short blogs, especially for readers with little time! The analysis of this subject will be incomplete in any case.

What I think I will be writing about is the way we have lost our feelings of brotherhood and its consequences.
It does not, of course, apply to everyone?

The sigh of this blog reminds me of a song from the early 1960s by the funny, handsome and tall trio, PPnM (Peter (Stookey) Paul (Yarrow) and Mary (Travers)), entitled “Where have all the flowers gone” Those were the early hippie and beatnik days, which were said sometimes to be inspired by the teaching of our non-materialistic Indian gurus and which benefited most the more material-willing modern Indian gurus of philosophy, music or yoga.

The simple lyrics of “where have all the flowers gone?” were neat and logical progressing with a cyclical (Hofstadter’s book “Gödel, Escher, Bach” or Belafonte’s song “Hole in the Bucket”), Q & A series such as

Where have all the flowers gone, …? Young girls have picked them everyone.
Where have all the young girls gone, …? Gone for husbands everyone.
Where have all the husbands gone, …? Gone for soldiers everyone
Where have all the soldiers gone, …? Gone to graveyards, everyone.
Where have all the graveyards gone, … ? Gone to flowers, everyone.
Where have all the flowers gone, …? Young girls have picked them everyone.

The verses of this song end with the line “Oh, when will they ever learn?” Yes sir! WHEN?

Although the words of the song seem pessimistic, when we sung them in our youth we did think we will learn. That was the hope of this song to us --- at least among the anglicized if not the anglophiles in India, not so used to soldiers and graveyards.

PPnM would come up with other hummable songs such as “500 Miles”
If you miss the train I'm on you will know that I am gone
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.

Upwardly oriented young people do not travel by train nowadays, nor are there planes blowing whistles, while the jingle of the mobiles don’t convey a feeling of distance. We lose something by that even if we can still yell out our emotions.

They also sung the very popular Lemon Tree which really discouraged the idea of madly and blindly falling in love---which is, fortunately, the only way of falling in love---because of its lyrics
"Don't put your faith in love, my boy", my father said to me,
"I fear you'll find that love is like the lovely lemon tree."
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.


The fruit of human love, our children, should not be bitter to have at any time.

PPnM’s “Hammer Song” expressed the need of love between brothers and sisters ---a phrase that is now becoming extinct in single-child families---which I have condensed below as
If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning,
If I had a bell, I'd ring it in the morning,
If I had a song, I'd sing it in the morning,
I'd hammer/ring/sing it in the evening, all over this land;
I'd hammer/ring/sing out danger, I'd hammer/ring/sing out warning,
I'd hammer/ring/sing out love between my brothers and my sisters,
All - over this land

These were times when young people were idealistic and communistic (remember Che Guevara, he was in his early thirties then; Pete Seeger, the lyricist of many of PPnM’s songs was a communist) and altruistic (not with other people’s money) with their brotherhood. This rare feeling of brotherhood in modern times was to survive for a very short period.

At that time, the early 1960s, America was really a great inspiration for others. There was John Kennedy (an Irish Kennedy aristocrat of that time is perhaps equivalent to a black Obama aristocrat of the present time) promising a landing on the moon and launching the Peace Corps --- which seems now to be easier than emptying Guatanamo bay prison for Obama.
It was time for the young.
The youth expressed themselves in floral themes and became the Flower children which culminated in their Summer of Love in 1967.

The word hippie, describing the new Bohemians, originated at this time. It was then thought to be a natural extension of older words such as “hip”, “hep”, “hepcat” or even (I thought) from the Beatles’ early 1960s version of the song “Hippy Hippy Shake” where they urge people to
Well, now you shake it to the left
Shake it to the right
Do the Hippy Shake Shake
With all of your might oh baby.

The hippies and their flower symbol caused some middle class (essentially white, probably WASP) to become uncomfortable (or were propagandized to become uncomfortable) just as our middle class rallied behind the rath-yatra to ward off imagined Islamic demons.
The hippies turned away from, what they thought to be, contrived middle class behavior, to natural behavior, trying to get away from some of the stifling aspects of middle class respectability/morality. In the process they did not shave, had scraggy beards and gave the impression that they did not have a bath.
They identified themselves with the culture of the Native Indians and their children, the Flower Children, got native Indian names such as Rainbow, and starting the environmental movement by cherishing the earth. Whatever they were, they could not be harmful.

In India the modern-day hippies were identified as upper strata youth who wore Kurta instead of Western clothes. They imitated the Beatles style of dressing after their guru, Ravi Shankar, when they were in India.

In 1966 Reagan expressed the fears of the middle class by saying that a “… hippie is someone who looks like Tarzan, walks like Jane, and smells like Cheetah”. In present day terms, metrosexuals like Beckham or Shah Rukh Khan would probably be happy to be described as a Reagan hippie.

The summer of love, when 100,000 people gathered in San Francisco, was the highpoint for the free expression of love, freedom, religion. The use of drugs was highlighted everywhere and the hippies became demons to the vast middle class. Hippies were replaced by Yippies (from YIP = Youth International Party) who intruded into the anti Vietnam War coalition of the National Mobilization effort to disrupt the Democratic Party’s Chicago Presidential convention. The numerically small group of Yippies claimed to represent the youth in a THEM verus WE confrontation where the WE offered “… sex, drugs, heroism, rebellion, brotherhood..” while THEM stood for “… responsibility, fear, Puritanism, repression…”. The Yippies were seen as spoilt children of the affluent so that it was easy for children of the working class to turn against them.

The Yippies took such an obnoxious and unreasonable stand that it obviously seemed that they were planted to discredit the hippies. They said that they will burn Chicgo to the ground, f… on the beaches, introduce Politics of ecstasy, put LSD into the drinking water, to kill parents because they killed their children’s soul after birth, and nominated a pig for president. This was just the excuse for the Chicago police to use excessive force with guns, clubs, tear gas, and their working class rage to suppress and destroy the Yippies. The world thought that the Hippies were the Yippies who had behaved so chaotically and unreasonably.

As an aside, the viciousness of the police attack saw the rise of several protest groups. One of these was the Weatherman (“You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the ind blows”.Bob Dylan song) who took on terrorist acts such as assembling bombs without adequate expertise. One of their prominent activist was William Ayers, who had influence enough not to go to jail, and who was closely associated with Obama.

All the violence was adequately exploited by Nixon who introduced the term silent majority --- earlier used to express the majority of dead people over living people--- to represent the long suffering middle class who contributed to World War II efforts and built the strong American post war economy.

The brotherhood of the flower people died.

Middle class America found another uncomfortable diversion in the Long Summer of Heat ---the outbreak of racial violence that was stirred by the success by assassination of another peacenik, Martin Luther King, who took the first successful popular black movement against segregation. The free expression of “black” American feelings angered the middle class of deep southern American states. George Wallace, Governor of Alabama, with Ku Klux Klan connections, reversed the steps to brotherhood with his politically expedient demand for "Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, and segregation forever". George Wallace stole the white Democratic vote,

White-black brotherhood had no chance at that time.

It was at this time, that a certain Michael Jackson, made his debut with his brothers and a sister in the Jackson 5 as a young (age 8) singer. He had no childhood he could remember, having to comply with his father’s bullying demands to perform. His first popular, No 1, song, Ben, had brotherhood lyrics written by him at the age of 13
Ben, you're always running here and there
You feel you're not wanted anywhere
If you ever look behind
And don't like what you find
There's one thing you should know
You've got a place to go…

Ben was a rat in the movie Ben. Till he reached the twenties Jackson’s song had the usual teenage love lyrics. But with Beat It he may be said to have become political with
You have to show them that you're really not scared
You're playin' with your life, this ain't no truth or dare
They'll kick you, then they beat you,
Then they'll tell you it's fair
So beat it, but you wanna be bad
So does the lyrics of the song, Scream, with his sister Janet
Tired of injustice
Tired of the schemes
The lies are disgusting
So what does it mean
Kicking me down
I got to get up
As jacked as it sounds
The whole system sucks

Michael Jackson had mellowed down by the time (1985) he wrote the famous “We are the World” with Lionel Richie
We are the world, we are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving

This was after Jackson had received in 1984 a Humanitarian Award in the White House from President Ronald Reagan for his support of charities that helped overcome alcohol and drug abuse. Michael Jackson had evolved into a sober and optimistic thinking about Man when, along with Eddie Murphy, he sang (1992) in the song whatzupwitu
Sun is gonna shine, Flowers gonna grow
Clouds'll sprinkle showers, Rivers gonna flow

Man ain't got the power, To kill nothing but himself
Man is a creation, Man is nothing else

Whatzup, whatzup, whatzupwitu
Whatzup, whatzup, whatzupwitu

By the time Jackson’s Invincible Album came out in 2001 Jackson noticed, I think, the absence of children when he wrote The Lost Children. I suppose what he meant by the “Lost Children” were the children who could have been conceived but were not for various reasons of pleasure and material expediency.
We sing songs for the wishing, of those who are kissing
But not for the missing
So this one’s for all the lost children
This one’s for all the lost children
This one’s for all the lost children, wishing them well
And wishing them home
When you sit there addressing, counting your blessings
Biding your time…
…Home with their fathers,
Snug close and warm, loving their mothers
I see the door simply wide open
But no one can find thee…

There is this big Simpson Paradox. Babies bring most personal joy to mothers. Professional life brings cherished societal recognition to ladies. Mothers with profession don’t enjoy personal nor professional life. Solution: 1. Beat the husband? 2. Motherhood is the most important profession for both sexes. 3. Don’t become a mother/father.

Sigh for the lost children. Man and woman may sing with Jackson’s Cry (Invincible Album)
You can change the world (I can't do it by myself)
You can touch the sky (Gonna take somebody's help)
You're the chosen one (I'm gonna need some kind of sign)
If we all cry at the same time tonight

For the missing children.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Thought of Food 4: Steamed Wild Rice and Watermelon

This recipe (click on images to expand) inspired by Lalha’s more kuzhambu (buttermilk stew, if one insists on a probably incorrect English transliteration) is mainly to sing praises for the cereal which is known locally (in Maharashtra, India) as varai. Having lived in Maharashtra for nearly nineteen years now, I should have known about this cereal much earlier. Lalitha and I came across this cereal, when, walking along Jungli-Maharaj Road, Pune, we came across a road-side shop named Steamy Affairs. They were selling idlis (steamed rice-cakes, if you must have an Indian name for it) of various varieties. You stand and eat there, and the hot idlis sold as fast as hot-cakes, as they should be sold, I guess. We wanted a quick meal and glancing through the menu, I saw a variation titled as varai idli. I asked the shop-man what it was made of. He said “Varai”. It’s like asking a baker what wheat-bread is made of and he replying “wheat”. I cajoled him into giving me some more information, and he described varai as some kind of small rice. They served the idlis on a banana leaf and for accompaniment they served a typically Maharashtrian sauce made out of curd, ground peanuts and coconut paste. The idlis looked grainier and more porous than good normal idlis and tasted surprisingly good.

We went back to Steamy Affairs another day. Varai Idli was not available. They served that dish only on Chathurthi (fourth day of the moon) which is the common fasting day for a traditional Maharashtrian --- which most of them are in any case. A fasting Maharashtrian is not on any penance or self restriction. He/she is just taking a break from normal eating. Some would say they are actually having a feast since the food is most time simply delicious and rich consisting of fruits, milk, ghee (clarified butter, if you insist on an English name). They do not use normal cereals like wheat, sorghum, normal rice. Instead they use varai, sago, potatoes, peanuts and rajgeera (amaranth) seeds.
Varai is botanically known as Panicum miliaceum L. in English it is known (from internet) as broomcorn millet, black-seeded proso millet, broom millet, common millet, panic millet, proso, proso millet, wild millet, wild proso millet; in German as Rispenhirse; in French as kibi, millet commun, and in Spanish as mijo or millo. In Maharashtra it is known as Varai.

The making of varai idli is very simple and much easier to make than the normal rice idlis that are available in all the shops. These idlis require soaking, grinding and fermenting and takes up considerable time to make the idli dough prior to steaming. The outcome is not always guaranteed when one makes normal idlis as they are usually moody. The varai idlis come out very reasonably, and is much easier to make. It is ideal for people who prefer home-made food but have little time to make them.

In the recipe which we (Lalitha and I) have followed from guesswork is given below. We also tried out a kozhambu (stew) made in the usual South Indian style with curds but using water-melon instead of pumpkin. The idea of using water melon was inspired by the recipe for Matira Curry by Camellia Panjabi in one of The Times Group’s cookbook “Around the World in 80 Plates” (2004). The varai idli and kozhambu we made seemed to be a great dish for a hot summer afternoon in Pune.

The ingredients used (see Fig 1) are the following (serves two):
Varai Idli
Varai 1 cup
Urad Dal (Vigna mungo) 1/3 cup
Some Curry leaves
Water ¾ -1 cup
Kozhambu
Watermelon ½ small watermelon
Curd 1 cup
Coconut (broken pieces) ½ cup
Manat-takkali 1 table spoon
Red chilies 4 - 6
Jeera (cumin seed) 1 tea-spoon
Cholar dal (Bengal gram) 1 table spoon
Methi 1 tea spoon

Manat-takkali is a must if you are an Iyer. It is a herb common throughout India. Its berries (used here) is a tonic and diuretic, heart diseases, skin diseases, piles, cooling high fevers when taken as a syrup, (also a poison if over used). The botanical name for it is Solanum Nigrum. In Bengali it is called Kakmachi; In Bombay, Gwalior, Makoi or mako. You need not use it. In that case, I suppose, it will be called a stew and not a kozhambu, especially by an Iyer.

Making the Varai Idli
The urad dal is ground fine using an ordinary electric grinder. It is mixed with the varai in a larger vessel and water added to give a thick consistency (Fig 2 left). When kept overnight (Indian summer when day temperature are + 40 and night temperatures +20 C) the idli dough swells (Fig 2 right). The curry leave is mixed in the dough and then poured into the idli-making vessel (Fig 3 left). A close-up is shown in Fig 3, right. The dough in this case is a bit watery


and one could not have made normal idli with such consistency. Filled trays (usually four) are stacked one on top of another in the idli maker. Varai idli is very novice-friendly. After steaming for about ten-fifteen minutes in the idli vessel the idli is ready (Fig 4 left). It is scraped easily out of the tray and served fresh on the table. There is no better food on earth than hot idli (if you leave out hilsa fish, which you have to leave out in a Iyer lady’s home).

Watermelon Kozhambu
.

The water melon is washed (proper Iyer procedure) cut into half, diced and placed in a vessel (Fig 5). A little bit of the white part of the water melon is included (Fig 5 right). The kuzhambu ingredients such as methi, jeera, Bengal gram (what will an Iyer do without Bengal), chilies (in this case green chilly was used), coconut pieces was put in a mixer (traditional Iyers would have had them ground properly on a stone pestle and mortar) along with the curd (yoghurt or dhai) (Figs 6 left and centre) and smashed (horrible word, but there is nothing subtle in an electric mixer) in the mixer to a uniform consistency adding a little water if required.

The kozhambu paste is then placed in the vessel containing the water melon, desired amount of water is added and boiled for ten minutes (depends on what state you want the water-melon to be in). The malat-takkali is then fried in oil (of your choice, kadalaiennai or ground nut oil is what is used here) and poured over to complete the kozhambu (Fig 6 right)


The most appetizing way to serve the food is to use banana leaf. Since there is only two banana plants in the neighborhood, it has been served on stainless steel plates (Fig 7), the nearest thing traditional Indian homes can get to silver plates which do not contaminate. The varai idli is served here cut and soaked in the kozhambu. A paste of specially prepared chili powder (made with lentils and chilies) and mixed in nalla-ennai (good oil which is sesame oil) has also been used to break the monotony.

Food for Thought

In these modern days, which always seem to proclaim a very quick end ever since Orwell’s 1984 was written (sometimes I wonder --- because of our gut-less or bone-less complying existence --- if we are not already dead and just existing virtually now), thought of self-sufficiency in food and water is perhaps the most basic concern. Wild rice like varai does not require extensive fertilizers or water for cultivation and has been the food of our tribes or adivasis (the indigenous people) who still persist with such cultivation if they are isolated enough from modern society. Indigenous food for indigenous people could solve a large portion of the energy problem. Such dreams counter globalization dreams but they are good dreams. They are not Bush’s dreams or Reagan’s dreams or Manmohan Singh’s dreams or Obama’s dreams. But as they say one climbs every mountain, follows every rainbow, till one finds one’s dream. In the meanwhile one can nurture varai plants and not pull them out as obnoxious weeds as some (Monasnto?) could have you believe.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Bhuleshwar on a Hill: Interior

Writing notes on historical events many millennia after they have occurred is like writing scientific papers on subjects like weather change. Boundary conditions play a very important role in the computational evolution of the weather (“butterfly effect”). You get one step wrong and you lose your path forever. Just as people have learnt not to trust weather forecasts there is, it seems, little to trust in the interpretation of history. A boundaried background affects interpretation of history. It helps sometimes in understanding identity crisis (“Main Aisa Kyon Hoon?”). As if it matters. Yet, although I may have been lost several times, every wrong path opens up new avenues of knowledge especially if you had confined your earlier life to some other “silly” pursuits, and have little extra-curricular knowledge. Every wrong step finds you a new life, a new elixir.

Bhuleshwar-on-the-hill is not even in the map of history books (as far as I know) so the interpretation may not matter. Yet that could be its very advantage to serious anthropology students. This article is long for this reason; perhaps because there seemed to be so much to report. It is a blog in four parts. So you can bring out your roasted peanuts or popped sorghum and burnt-mango-juice and read it slowly, one or two pictures a day. It took me more time to write it.

It would seem at the very outset (and after considerable hindsight) that one would require more than a smattering knowledge of Indian history and the way it is reflected in Indian temple sculpture, to understand what is within the dark interiors of the Bhuleshwar temple on the hill. That is, if you want to understand “correctly” (if that is possible) the sequence of events that led to the building and destruction/restruction of this structure. On the other hand, if you must enjoy life, you need not ask the whys and wherefores or reason with the therefores. One can just sit on the steps inside in the dark corridors or outside under the blue sky and let your soul and your pores soak in the stones and the stories for a later recollection in another context of the “herefore”s. In this case one may skip most of the text, as one would have done in any case, and look at the photos (Figs 2, 3, 5 and 6right, are from the internet; there are more than twenty photos each with three sub-photos on the average), if only because one does not require to make sense out of these historical things where you do not get first-hand account from the builder or the craftsmen.

I must add that the first part of this blog is the part I can speculate on. The second part is the one that would take more visits to write a proper story on. Part III is the part on the lady ganapathi. Part IV is a comment more to myself and has no moral in it.

Part I. Begin the Beguine.

It has been important for me that I did not know history (no wherefores and therefores) and had only a herefore image in my mind of placed I had visited or read about. The photographic images of places have been lost due computer “crashes”. As one climbs the steps to get into the temple there are some loose sculptures (Fig 1) fixed onto the walls of the steps. This is normal in older Indian temples. Wherever you go there will be some destruction. Some easily jump to the conclusion that it is the work of moghul invaders. Of which there is written moghul record to be found on the internet especially the Belgaum region of Mahrashtra. There has also been this conflict between Hoysala and early Chalukyan sculpture. These loose sculptures resemble the image of a loose sculpture found in Siddhesvar temple complex in Haveri (Fig 2 right, enlarge image by clicking) which is after Belgaum en route to Bangalore from Pune on NH4. The temple at Haveri is considered to be a 12th century style Chalukyan temple and the loose sculpture is from an earlier structure.

The loose sculpture at Haveri (Fig 2 right) is similar both in nature of ornaments or dress worn to the guard (dwarpalika) of the Jain figure (fig 2 left, taken from the internet Wikapedia) found in the Jain temple of Lakkundi. The fan in the left hand of the Belur dwarpalika (Fig 2 left) is broken in the loose sculpture at Haveri (Fig 2 right). The style of the habit/ornament of these figures in Figs 1 and 2 is similar suggesting that the craftsmen reflected the contemporary style of that time and which did not change with changes in the ruling class or “religion”. Because of this, the dwarpalika as well as Vishnu (Fig 2 centre taken from Wikapaedia) of the Lakkundi Jain temple would be attired similarly including the belt around the chest in all the three sculptures shown in Fig 2.

Such styles may have been reserved for an upper or a special class. These styles may also have been prevalent over several centuries. For example, there is this famous Ajanta cave painting of a figure holding a lotus known as Bodhistava (enlightened being) Padampani (Fig 3 left). It could be any aspiring Buddha if not a Buddha already. The crown and the positioning of the hands in the Ajanta Bodhistava painting (Fig 3 left) may be imagined to be similar to that of the loose sculpture in Fig 1 left.

Before I leave Fig 3 one has to examine the eyes. Much has been written about these eyes and the distinctive style of the Ajanta paintings. This style assumes that the face, without this “style” would have been of the normal Indo-Aryan type. The elongation of the eye has been deliberately done to give the face a serene look and the “spirit of the compassionate Buddha”. It is this “style” that is supposed to have eventually led to the miniatures of the Pala-Sena period (predating moghul miniatures) of West Bengal and to Kalighat’s patua painting and to Jamini Roy’s art. The mongoloid feature of the eyes in Ajanta cave paintings of the female form is also seen in the “brooding princess and maid” painting (from Kamat’s potpourri) before 6th century. The princess is seemingly unclothed (the boy or the maid would have said the princess is naked) as compared to her more prudish maid. They have the same kinds of eyes though.

For one like me, not educated in the finer art and history points I would have said that the eyes were like that of the mongoloid eastern Nepalese, Assamese, or Arunachal, Thai or Chinese people. The eyes of the sculpture (a shilabalika of Chennakesava temple in Belur, from Wikapaedia) in the centre of Fig 3 would also be mongoloid. Notice that the ornaments or “dress” in this sculpture resembles those in Figs 1 and 2. The easier (more spontaneous) viewpoint to take is that the indigeneous people who did the painting/sculpting were mongoloids themselves. Gautam the last Buddha, after all was a Nepali, if not a Tibetan. One may imagine that the elongated eyes of the tribe in the very pre-Ajanta paintings of Nibamun in Egypt 3500 years ago are to be associated with people that migrated from India as some suppose they have. After all, the so-called (to the westerner) inscrutable Mongoloid faces of the east may just have been due to the confusion arising from the ordinary human behavior of the easterners and their “serene”-looking faces.

The sculptures in Fig 1 are distinguished (Fig 4 for close-ups) by the halo or aurora around the head which would suggest that the sculptures could represent a Bodhisattva (and not Buddha owing to their necklace, bracelets, armbands, Fig 1). The nature of the halo itself is interesting. Buddha with an undecorated circular halo (as in those of, say, Christ the lord; as an aside I must add that this well-trained computer automatically changes “christ” to “Christ”) has been discovered (Fig 4, left) in the Gandhara (now better known as Taliban’s Kandahar) style in Afghanistan, the earliest of these perhaps being in the Bimaran casket in Jalalabad.

The sculpture on the left in Fig 5 is said to be the earliest stone image of Buddha. The toga and the hair style are supposed to clearly illustrate the Hellenistic or Greek influence. This might as well be but it simply shows the influence that the local craftsman has on depicting the habit of an historic figure, when he has no other imagery to fall back on. There are also the problems of historians who would like to endear themselves to the ruling classes by providing them with explanations they would like to hear. Thus, the Bimaran casket of 1st century BC showing Buddha in a non-hellenistic environment had to be suppressed from popular exposure and debunked by the historian. The point of interest is the decorations on the halo in Fig 4. In many Asian halos the light comes from flames formalized in some Chola bronzes of Siva as in the ring aureoles of the Nataraja in Fig 5, right. In this case, there is also the question of whether the sculptures in Fig 4 represent figures from the time when the Siva-Buddhism association was on.

In conventional early South-Indian history, the equivalent of Siva was Murugan. The other Siva is the one which many of the Aryan type would like to associate with Mount Kailash. It seems that somewhere around the sixth century when the Ajanta paintings were in the declining phase and the Ellora caves were becoming more prominent there was interest in a growth of Saivism. According to Sadasivan (S. N. Sadasivan, A Social History of India) “…Saivism was introduced to the world for easy popular acceptance as Siva-Buddhism…” Sadasivan further adds “A god engaged in meditation like the Buddha, Siva has his Himalayan retreat in Mount Kailssa but his abode in the plains is Varanasi which was one of the active centres of Buddhism. … He too is the universal teacher with his right hand in the gesture of explanation (Vyakhyana Mudra).” It was around this time that Murugan of the south was being united with Siva of the north by the Saivites.

The point that should be of some importance is that the oriental look may also be imagined (if not seen) in the sculptures of Fig 5. This oriental look may thus have nothing to do with the so-called Ajanta style since it appears in sculptures in Afghanistan as well as in the southern bronzes. It simply could simply mean that the people peopling those places at that time were oriental people! It could also mean that at some time later when another ethnic group (say Indo-Aryan) dominated the population, not necessarily by violence (invasion) but by uncontrolled immigration (as, say, in some parts of Indo-Pak dominated Bradford in England, where the installation of local football lad Gary Linekar’s statue was not preferred over that of an alien Gandhi), when tastes changed and some renovation/destruction took place.

When visiting temples around Belgaum, Gadag, Lakkundi, one is set aback by the extent of destruction of images in temples. At one temple (very amateurishly restored) in Gadag-Lakkundi one sees (Fig 6, left; click to enlarge) that only the faces have been disfigured around the eyes and nose. I imagine now that it could have been due to an ethnic conflict. When visiting these temples one is always remorseful and bitter about the extent of destruction. A very polished and scholarly Muslim honorary guide made a passing comment that not all the destruction was by Muslim invaders. One could also now understand why there is a tendency to attribute elongated eyes to a “sophisticated” artistic Ajanta style. Indeed one web site has computer “restored”(Fig 6 right, top) the Ajanta paintings (Fig 6 right below) of a king an his retinue (Cave 10). The implication is that the people in the retinue have features of present-day Indians (read western Indians especially) and it is only the style of painting that brought about the changes. That may not be true at all. The people in the painting in Fig 6 right bottom have Nepali-Assamese features; they are characteristic even now of most indigenous people in the south and east of India (go through most faces in the newspapers). The re-constructed people in Fig 6 right top are those of others in the North who have foreign influences (Katrina Kaif, Priyanka Gandhi, some “pure” Brahmins) and consider themselves to be of Aryan stock. I will write more on this later.

I took this complicated route to highlight a point that struck me as I climbed the steps to get into the temple. The eyes of the figure in Fig 4 right is made (I thought it was painted) white and big as compared to the one on the right of fig 4. Why? Was it some sort of ethnic cleansing made by later wide-eyed people of the Aryan type? Protruding eyes appear in Ellora and in the declining phase (around 6th century) in the Ajanta paintings. I don’t know when such a change was made. If it was deliberately made it was done well. A closer examination of the eye in the sculpture of Fig 4 left does not rule out a clever paint job. After all you don’t get such black and white eyes except for Jain saints; these saints do not wear anything (Fig 2 left of left). I don’t know what paint was used. The paint seems to be of good quality. It may have been done when the exterior stucco work was being finished. This maybe a point to remember if one sees the violence inside the temple. It is also of interest to note that in the declining phase (around 6th century AD) of the Ajanta paintings the eyes are full and wide (Fig 3, right inset)


Part II


After you have climbed the steps to enter the temple on the hill you see (Fig 7, left; click to expand) the remains of a Sivaji-time (?) Deepmala (see Blog on Pune Street Scenes) tower obviously showing very crude signs of cement and plaster (courtesy Archaeological Survey of India?). There is also a recent iron-framework supporting a recent brass bell and some more recent Jowar clusters. There is gap with a step going down which somebody said holds water. I was to learn later that the temple was built on a natural water reservoir. The deepmala had no place to hold lamps; probably they were broken off and maybe a broke piece is placed on the top. There is a broken slab near the iron frame (Fig 7, centre) perhaps from some pre-existing temple. The figure on this slab (there are a surfeit of legs in this figure) has little resemblance to those in Fig 1. It has perhaps seen more weathering but it is certainly of more primitive or less refined style which may have nothing to do with the chronology.

Below the steps to the entrance to the temple (Fig 7, right) there are some signs that are typical of sculptures of kalash (Fig 8e), the sacred pot, in the Hindu temple ruins in the Qutub Minar complex. This Hindu temple complex is supposed to be from the 5th to 6th century AD and of Rashtrakut origin. According to The items in Fig 8 are mainly from the Gadag-Lakkundi area and will be used for comparison purposes later.

You must remember that in this first visit to the temple we were driven by the search for the lady ganapathi. It is very dark in side the temple and it was difficult to adjust to the darkness coming from the brightness outside. As one enters the temple one sees a red figure (Fig 9a) which turned out to be a figure of hanuman, the faithful of Rama who is actually a vaishnavite god. The figure was roughly hewn out of a rock and placed in a niche on the wall which may have harboured some other sculpture. The marigolds always mean a recent worship. As one may have noticed marigolds and sindur (red powder for worship) were placed everywhere so that there is not much discrimination between gods for the ordinary worshipper.

The first stone sign of ganapathiji comes as one goes down the steps to the shrine. The figure (Fig 9b) is of uncertain pose (given the darkness) although the figure was perceivably dancing and had no sign of being female. I had decided not to use the flash which decision I maintained except once. The digital camera helped me to see what I did not clearly see with the naked eye. It also required a stand or a steady hand (which I did not have) for the required long exposures. This affected the quality of the pictures but it will suffice for present purposes. As can be seen from Figs 9c and 9d there is considerable cement work of the government civil work type that is used for filling potholes and creating rock boundaries. Apparently, there was much to be propped up and this was done in the crudest way possible. One got the impression that loose sculptures were placed arbitrarily and at the mason’s discretion. Siva’s trishul in fig 9d marked the entrance to the sanctum sanctorum.

There is a lingam at the sanctum sanctorum (Fig 10a) marking this temple to be of Siva origin. The marigold flowers are placed in profusion here around the lingam/yoni and must mark in some way the proximity of the marigold farms in this temple. There is a brass image of a moustached Siva monitoring the worship along with a brass five-headed snake protecting him. The Nandi (Fig 10b), made out of very black stone, is appropriately placed in front of the sanctum sanctorum and appropriately worshipped. There are other elements of worship outside the sanctum sanctorum including the lamp and incense sticks (Fig 10c) whose smoke mark out a sun beam (Fig 10d) which illuminate a grinding stone for sandalwood as well as a drum.

Just outside the sanctum sanctorum the only sign of a similarity with the sculpture in Fig 1 is the head of an elephant (Fig 11a) and the “lions” on the doorway (Fig 11b) which resemble in form if not in detail the column of animals decorating (fig 8b, fig 8c) of the Gadag-Lakkundi temples. The figure on top of the pillar (fig 11c, click to enlarge) is of another style. It is as if the Siva temple as it is seen today (the lingam and its accompaniments) is a later usurpation of another sanctuary.

From this sanctuary you stumble into another lit corridor with pillars (Fig 11d) which takes you into another world. It is difficult to describe with any confidence the scenes that were on the walls. I was actually not prepared for what I saw, motivated as I was in looking for lady ganapathi and in the circumstances in which she was present. There are other descriptions on the internet that provide better pictures (including at least one video). I shall quickly go through with what I saw before I saw the lady.

Most of the sculptures I describe below were in very dimly lit passages towards the centre of the structure. Your attention is drawn to the badly damaged figures of elephants (Fig 12a) including a man-elephant combat. Despite the damage, the style of the rows of elephants and other animals are certainly distinctive as compared to some similar displays in other temples (Fig 12c, see A Travel Blog of an Indian Backpacker on Belur-Chennakesava temple). There are other interesting murals including one of Arjuna’s matsyabheda (hitting the eye of a fish by looking at its reflection in the water; see Amol N. Bankar of ancientcoinsofindia 2006). The frieze in Fig 13b is certainly interesting. It is not a war-scene but looks like a scene prior to a war. It seems clear (to me) that one of the central figures (with a bow) is Arjuna by another sculptor. Knowing the mythology the other person could be Krishna although being of Bengali upbringing I am tempted to think it could be Kunti, mother of Arjuna as well as Karna. However, looking at the red yellow and green signs of worship the central figure in Fig 13b may be something else. I thought it was a couple offering water from a kundali to another person going off to war. Fig 13c has scenes of war using chariots and horses which seem rather small compared to the humans astride them.



I did not examine the plan of the inactive part of the temple at all. Photographs were taken quite randomly without on-the-spot analysis or discussion (one cannot discuss alone, especially in the darkness when your wife and your sister in law Sharada and her husband Shankar) are alive and kicking in a red glow in the sunlit part of the corridors.
Between the outer walls and the inner “hall” the plan of the temple base would seem to be similar to that of the Siddhesvara temple in Haveri except for the very different later style of the sculptures (Figs 14a and 14b, all ladies) which seem to be similar to that on top of the pillar in Fig 11c. This style is seen (Fig 14c from A Travel Blog of an Indian Backpacker) on the walls of the 12th century Hoysala style Chennakesava temple in Belur. There is one theory that the Chennakesava temple marks the conversion of its builder Vishnu Vardana from Jainism to Vaishnavism (Vishnu worship). The lady with a snake in Fig 14b is more likely to indicate a consolidation of Saivanism (Siva worship) from Vaishnavism or Buddhism. The presence of Arjuna’s Matsyaveda scene in both these temples (Fig 14a and Fig 14c) would suggest to a layman like that both were Vaishnavite temples. The style in Fig 14a (Bhuleshwar) seems to be older while those in Fig 14c (Belur) have haloes albeit of different type compared to those in Fig 4.

Sure signs of a Vaishnavite influence are found in a chamber which was so dark that neither I nor my digital camera could get any image. On using my flash we saw (Fig 15a) that there seemed to a badly damaged figure lying on a snake. It may have been Vishnu lying on the snake Anantha Sesha. That it was Vishnu could only be guessed by the presence of a conch to the left. There was diamond on the base which is typical of early Chalukyan temples (Bankapur, Siddheswar in Haveri). There were other curiosities such as the figure with an afro hair do next to this chamber. In another temple frieze which I did not see well with the naked eye there is a figure holding what seems to be a a single headed vajra or Tibetan Phurpa or dagger, so I guessed it must be Indra or Vajrapani often seen with Buddha (Fig 15c). On another wall frieze there is a figure carrying the damaru, a small double-sided hand drum, on a right hand. Other hands could not be seen. The damaru can be associated with siva, Buddhists ceremonies, or tantric (when made with human skull). It could be siva as there seems to be a snake on his left. He also wears a double shoulder-string that is characteristic of a warrior. Murugan, who is supposed by some to be a southern Indian version Siva, has been represented in a free-standing position (instead of in rock shrines) seemingly for the first time around 7th -9th century (courtesy French Institute, Pondicherry). He is a tribal seated on a lotus and carries a double-headed vajra (dorje to Tibetans) typical of Buddhists with a double shoulder-string. It is a moot point where a dorje to a Buddhist craftsman appears as a damaru to a Saivite

When one steps out into the open and looks up, one sees the “domes” with stucco work and paintings that is visible from outside. There are no surprises or new insights. The square or octagonal tower of the bigger “domes” have (Fig 16a) their stucco geometrical pattern till the base, while the smaller “domes” have (Fig 16b) no or little stucco decorations. Apparently, the top plaster work is carried out on a base made out of carved rock. The structure of the part built with rocks has some similarities with temples around Gadag-Lakkundi. The one element of surprise is the painstaking way bells have been carved out of the roof of the rock base (Fig 16). There are round bells alternating with bells (?) with “diamond”-shaped base resembling that on the base in Fig 15a. One can stand and look up admiringly at the “bell and diamond work” (Fig 16c inset) if you have the time simply because the pattern repeats itself well.

As one moves into the courtyard (by chance) one sees (Fig 17) a massacre of dancers and musicians in stone. That must have been termed a holocaust of the ethnic kind. There are very few surviving faces. A face that has survived (Fig 17b) is in a corner in the centre of the cluster in fig 17a is that of a man. He has distinctly oriental (Ajanta style?) features. The stones used for these sculptures seem to be different. The details are therefore dependent on the nature of the rock or stone; the stone on the two figures on the left in Fig 17c seem to be different from that on the right in Fig 17c. The inset of Fig 17 shows details from an early Chalukyan temple in Devgaon, near Kittur in Karnataka.

One of the more graceful figures that I saw there is the headless figure of Fig 18a. These figures resemble in some way other figures in other places. In Figs 18b and 18c there are two figures carved on different stones from the 16th century Ramalingasamy temple in Tadapatri, on the banks of the Pennar river near Anantapur in Hyderabad. It is said that there are two styles of sculptures in this temple. One of them is supposed to be under the direction of a master sculptor called Yellanchari from Varanasi. The other is said to be a later south Indian sculptor. Fig 18b belongs (I think) to the Varanasi style and that in Fig 18c to the south Indian (Vijayanagara?) style. A closer look at the eyes of the broken figures is possible in one the less damaged section (Fig 18d). The eyes (see inset of Fig 18d) of the male drummer and the female dancer does seem to be more of the east Asian type and mimics the so-called “Ajanta style”. It seems that with more recent styles the poses of the ladies become less graceful, the styles more awkward, the carvings coarser, the breasts more incroyable, and the eyes rounder. The other feature is the row of diamonds near the dancers (Figs 17a and 18c) which make the age of the sculpture around 11th-12th century.

Part III: Not only Lady Ganapathy

I finally found the kind of panel that I was looking for in the search of the internet of lady ganapathi. What we had in the internet was the figure of lady ganapathi (vinayaki) as in Figs 19c and 19d. There are three other panels (Figs 19a, 19b and 19e) sans vinayaki. There are some features of interest:-
19. 1) all the figures are ladies.
19. 2) There are vahanas for most of the figures (except in Fig 19b) so the figures are deities. Thus the lady ganapathi has the rat as her vahana. So it is indeed a lady ganapathi. But wait till 19. 7
19. 3.) The sculpture of the deity in Fig 19b resembles that in Fig 6d from the Gadag-Lakkundi temples.
19. 4) The deities in Fig 19a have a bell in their lower left hand sometimes said to indicate worshippers.
19. 5) Very few of the mudras are recognizable; most of them hold a bead in one of their hands.
19. 6) Most of the deities have halos on their heads; the halo on the heads of Fig 19a, right, and Fig 19 f left have a halos similar to those in Fig 4. These figures also carry a damaru (Fig 19 f1) in their top right hand.
19. 7) There are the recognizable iconic Vahanas, objects in hand and mudras. These are discussed in more detail below. The surprising part is that not only is there a female ganapathi, but all the male gods seem to be depicted as female as discussed below in longer detail than one would (19. 7a) have liked perhaps.
19. 7a) There is the swan (Fig 19e right and possibly Fig 19c right) so that the deity could be Saraswathi or Varuna. Saraswathi does not always have to have a veena in her hand. I have not seen many early (before 11th century?) sculptures with veena although there is this lovely (6th century?) Badami sculpture of Nataraja holding what could be a veena or an ektara or dotara with one hand and playing it with another. Sheer madness! Thank god! The fig in 19c has her top right hand fingers placed as if playing a stringed instrument (veena?) and her bottom left hand seem to hold a book which would make the deity Saraswathi. the bull is seen as the vahana of the deity in fig 19e, left, as well as that of the deity in fig 19e, centre, which has the sign of a chakra on its upper right hand (Vishnu?). A man is the vahana of the fig 19a, left which, otherwise, has the characteristics of Siva. A man could be the vahana of Kubera closely associated with Siva as his worshipper. Kubera (half-brother of Ravana) is supposed to be a dwarf, deformed and three-legged. He is the god of wealth who lent Vishnu money for his marriage to Padmavati for which devotees will continue to go till the end of Kaliyug to Tirupathi to donate money to pay back Vishnu’s (Venkateshwara’s) debts. They are paying only the interest now. The human vahana (Fig 19a) has a cramped look as if the weight is on the shoulder; the human vahana in Fig 19d has the normal look of a person holding something up with two hands. The pose of these two human vahanas seem to be that of the mithuna couple that are below a caitya arch in the Buddhist caves at Karle near Pune (Fig 19 f3). The elephant as a vahana is seen in Fig 19a, centre and right. Murugan, Saman (more associated with Buddhists; holds a lotus by his left hand and accompanied by an elephant), Brihaspathi (grandson of Brahma through Angiras; taught gods to fight demons; identified with Jupiter) and Harihar putra (Dravidian and associated with Buddha or bodhisattva) are among the gods associated with elephant as a vahana. The vahana bird in Fig 19d, right, seems to be a peacock so that the deity seems to be Skanda who reins in the vahanas vanity by having its tail folded.

The lion-like face at the apex of the arch (Gavaksa, Sukanasa) is variously known as Kirttimukhis (such as in fig 8f from Gadag-Lakkundi) or vyalis in the Karnataka region. The arch of the Gavaksa which is “beset with curly carvings; foam, flames and wings…” which extend to the elephant-like mouth of the so-called mythical Makaras. This combination of lion-face, arch and makara is (probably) known as Kala Makara (Face of Glory). The Kirttimukhi in Fig 8d has no makara while that in Fig 8f has no arch. The style of the Kirttimukhi/makara complex is indicative of something (which is not saying much, I guess) about the time when it was made. The “curly” part of the arch actually consists of rings within which Buddha-like (male?) figures are seated with their hand held in various mudra positions. There thus seems to be support for a Siva-Buddha association which has been the continuous theme in the Bhuleshwar-on-the-hill description. A more detailed analysis of the Kala Makara complexes in Fig 19 could probably throw more insights which I will have to delay till more hindsights are obtained from future visits and study. In passing, one could make the (unrefereed) comment that the lion-faced Kirtti mukhi (fig 8f) may have come out of the earlier faces of the kalash (fig 8e).

The makara is associated with Buddhist sculpture beginning from old Buddhist caves (Fig 19 f2; vihara 15 at Nadsur; from Vidya Dewhejia, Early Buddhist Rock temples). An item on the internet of interest is that the makara may be associated with a 1922 sighting from Margate Beach on the (Indian Ocean side of South Africa) of a bizarre sighting of a furry polar-bear-like fish with elephant-like trunk (therefore named Trunko) and lobster-like tail fighting two killer whales. Its carcass (~ 50’x10’x5’) was presumably lying on the beach for 10 days. Sceptics say that the “fur” was actually rotting flesh, and the whale were not fighting but feasting off the carcass of some dead giant whale.

Part IV: Is there an Ending?

It is difficult to imagine that one can ever find an end to this story. I had no idea that I will end up writing such a lengthy blog on a subject I did not know anything about. I did not take any trouble to study th plan or the temple architecture. I must leave it to the next trip which I plan to do during the monsoon. It is after one comes out that one is left wondering what the temple is all about. So one could explore much more and one also has to go to other places. As I said in the first part there are two parts to the temple. One is within a walled-enclosure which is separated from another part through which one enters. There is a small gap (Fig 20a) between these two enclosures where one can sit and chat and meditate. It is here, in this gap, that one finds the stucco sculpture of the lady ganapathi that I mentioned in the earlier blog on the exterior of Bhleshwar-on-the-hill.

Through one of these window-like openings, one would be able to look into (Fig 20b) the place where Nandi the bull is placed facing the sanctum sanctorum. The image that lingers on is the time you spent inside amidst the sculptures of a strange time trying to find your spot in the sun (Fig 20c).

As you walk in the small corridor you come across some sculptures of another race or another class than those inside. You could say they are having an orgy which sun temples in India encourage although it could be of the inhibited kind; it is not clear whether they were ladies having a gay time. This would justify the temple as a lady deity temple. They could have also been advertising for some fine underwear which the skill of the sculptor has managed to bring out.

The installation of these slabs has been very clumsy in terms of the cement work which has spilt onto the sculptures. The ethnicity of the people in these slabs could be the same as those of the dancers. They seem to be different from those inside (Fig 19c) who constitute part of the war scene in Fig 13a.

As the trip ends and one looks at the temple from other angles (Fig 22a, from under a ficus tree), and the shadows lengthen on the outer platform (fig 22b), you wonder what people and what civilization show signs of what had existed on the hill. You wonder what ruins or damged sculpture you will find below the hill or, say, under the trees to the left of Fig 22b. As you drive away towards Saswad wondering what temples adorn distant hills (Fig 22c) you notice that times change and cultures grown from modern times would have temple sculptures with gods holding cricket bats instead of maces, and veenas, and chakras, or even lotus flowers.

I imagine I belong to that tribe who like to ask why; this can be quite painful to the other listeners as Aristotle found out. You are irritating if you ask why. You are also damned if you should claim to know the answers, especially if it is like revealing the ending of a thriller. Fortunately, Bhuleshwar on the hill has no learned authority to guide you. As decided on the internet Bhuleshwar is a temple from the 13th century. This is quite late into the development of Indian temple architecture. I think there is sufficient reason to believe otherwise. Some sites insist that it is from the era of the pandavas of the Mahabharata and 13th century in the same breath. In the absence of any first hand statement from people who actually worked on this structure, as well as in the absence of any bias, there can be no authoritative report on Indian ethnic groups or caste systems (despite Louis Dumont’s brave effort in Homo Hierarchicus).

One may ask, who is an, if not the, authority on such topics? The study of history as we know it today is something based on scholarship of the western kind with a religious background of good and evil and white and black. It is also based on the notion that there is homogeneity of people through space and time (compared to several generations) and that there is an evolution. There is therefore this attempt to systematize and classify. From what I see around me the peopling of India is least homogeneous. The ethnic changes in the people are perhaps the slowest when ruling classes change. These ethnic changes seem to me to be independent of what has been proscribed in religious or vedic texts. Any scholarly analysis of such changes must be confined to scholarship and may not be in any related to people living outside this confinement. Such westwardly oriented books (by westerners and their trained counterparts in India) have little chance to represent the excitement and the living vibrancy of the Indian craftsman.

In many books on Indian temples, the architecture of the temple is emphasized. This is a proper subject to study if one wants a cold blooded precise statement. Temples have been built and they have survived over centuries and millennia, just like palaces and forts. One wants to know what principles were involved. But that is not all there is to the temples. After going through the internet for much more than a little while I finally came upon a 1991 book titled “Indian Temple Architecture” by one Adam Hardy on the development of the forms of shrine between the 7th and 13th centuries,. Hardy is a good surname to have in the context of discovering Indian genius considering that a mathematician Hardy “discovered” the genius (at least for the Western world) of Ramanujan. It seems that Andy Hardy, a scholar of considerable repute, was a Ph. D. student when he wrote his thesis on this subject in the early 1990s. He is a Reader in Cardiff University now. If he is Welsh I should like him because of the built in music of our spoke language.

Adam Hardy took considerable pains to sketch out the details of the evolution of temple styles in his book (available on Google books to some extent). Introducing his work to an audience, it has been written about his contribution “Hindu temples embodied structured patterns of movement in their architectural compositions. Compositional elements are made to appear to multiply, to emerge and expand out from the body of the shrine, and out from one another, as interpenetrating elements differentiate themselves and come apart. As well as a spatial structure, a temple has a temporal one, of which a given spatial arrangement is a momentary glimpse, or rather, a succession of such glimpses.” I think Adam Hardy has come to the most important point of the vibrant life built into a temple as it evolves with the different generations of craftsmen with changing environmental influences. They have been instructed to execute something. They work on the basic global plan and execute them in their own way. So the kirtti mukhis and the makaras and the kala makaras or the kalash is there but each of them on the same temple are different in some way.

Writing about Adam Hardy, Giles Tillotson (another European Historian of recent vintage) writes about Hardy’s distinctive theory of kinetic force of temple design: “Temple forms unfold and multiply; each form has emerged from within another and in turn becomes the source of the next. This process can be observed on two levels. It can be seen within any given regional tradition over a period of time, wherein a sequence of temples displays increasing elaboration and splitting of forms. But any individual temple can also be seen as representing the processes at a single arrested moment, as if it were a depiction of something organic and growing, like a still photograph of an opening flower bud.”

It seems to me that the Bhuleshwar temple on the hill has many of these arrested moments. I have paid attention here to the ethnic features even I had been motivated by understanding a lady ganapathi and finding that in parts that she occupies all gods are ladies. From the way the figures change as detailed in the two blogs on Bhuleshwar-on-the-hill one sees a possible continuity from the sixth century to 16th century. I have sort of focused on the oriental nature of the eyes and also of the possible influence of saiva-buddhist unions, as well as saivite-vaishnavite transformations. There is a possibility of influences from Rashtrakuta temples and kings with Nepalese wives who built Kailash temple in Ellora. It has been over time and with considerable damage and possible current indifference. This need not continue to be so.

There is more to study.

Next time, it will be during the monsoon. I will take a torch. I have not looked at the ceilings. I will take a compass to see how we are oriented. I will also take a tape and measure out the plan of the temple. I will have the scholarly answers. I will miss out on the life and the vibrancy of the temple.