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.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Bhuleshwar on a Hill: Exterior

There is a chapel on a hill in a place called Bhuleshwar near (~50 kms) Pune. This is thought to be a Shiva temple from the time of the Pandavas in local parlance which in modern historical times could be anywhere between the 11th and 13th century (AD or CE as they would like to have it nowadays). It has no connection with Bhuleshwar and its Mumba devi temple in Mumbai. I also do not know what Bhuleshwar actally means. I have just called it Bhuleshwar on the hill. It has been associated at some time or other with Muslim rule/fort of the Deccan sultanate kind.

While browsing through the internet I came across a post on a female ganapathi in the temple at Bhuleshwar The fact of a female ganapathi is interesting as the male Ganapathi who is the object of much prayer and reverence (especially around Pune) has always been considered a model for good behaviour especially when it comes to abstinence from sexual desires. I always thought that he could easily abstinate since there were no females of his kind. So why did a sculptor sculpt a female ganapathi? How did this female Ganapathi get conceived? A visit to Bhuleshwar seemed compulsory.

It turned out that Bhuleshwar is much more than just a female ganapathi. One would require several visits to understand the place even if the person is an anthropologist or architect of the University kind. This blog will be the first part of a first description. It will have almost nothing on the female ganapathi.

The road to Bhuleshwar from Pune is fairly simple by car. You take the Hadapsar road. Finish the first toll section of the road. After about three kilometers from the exit a sign board shows an exit Bhuleshwar which is on the right going away from Pune. Bhuleshwar is about eight kilomteres away from the road. You will be able to see it on a hill from far away. At the time of the year that we went (January - February) the country side was rather parched (Fig 1 left; click on pictures to expand) though one would see quite extended fields of marigold in some patches. You climb the hill rather easily and as you climb it, the view of the temple becomes clearer (as it should, I guess). There is an irritating relay tower which dominates and spoils the entire landscape. The image on the right of Fig 1 is without this tower.

One parks one’s car under the shade of a tree, climbs up the steps and is met with an unexpected structure. There is a rectangular main block built with stones (size of a dog, Bruno) on top of which there are three dome-like constructions. In the absence of a proper term to call these structures I will simply call them as “dome” --- dome with inverted commas. These constructions, all of which have a dome, seem to consist of Islamic style minarets --- except that there is no place for the muezzin to stand and invoke Allah and other daily rituals.

These minarets are rather tall the full proportion of which becoming clear when seen from far. It reminds me of distant snow-capped mountain ranges, where you don’t get to see the snow when you are close to it. It also reminded me (somehow) of the Kailas temple of Ajanta which had smooth plaster work on the top so that it resembled Mount Kailas, the abode of the gods.

Fine masonry has been first used to build Saiva temples in southern India around the seventh century AD. Bhuleshwar is often spoken of as a Shiva temple. The minarets and other parts of the domes are covered with stucco as sculptural and artistic puroses as well as a base material for paints. Such use of stucco work perhaps predate its use in Baroque and Rococo architecture, which is the hallmark of European nobility. The ease with which stucco material may be molded into shapes and painted was widely exploited in Indian temple architecture especially in the south. The “domes” of Bhuleshwar could form a prime example of this use.

There are many big octagonal and smaller square minarets themselves on the left dome (facing it from the path up) while the dome on the right has only octagonal minarets. The minarets and the dome seemed to be made of lime and sand variously named as plaster (mainly for ineriors) or stucco (mainly for exterior decorations). The peculiar structure suggests strong Islamic influence, especially as far as the minarets are concerned. However, the Islamic influence could have come later. Early native Indian (Hindu in a non-bigoted sense) beliefs considered the earth to be square (at least to a first approximation; never mind Aryabhata) and there were pillars at the corners to support the sky. Square or octagonal shapes were preferred (always add “it seems” if I sound too confident) for the Hindu temples. Square or Octagonal minarets are then alright with Hindu temples.

Saiva temples are usually square or octagonal in plan. The nature of the main domes as well those on the top of the minarets with their up-turned lotus-petals resemble those of the temples in or around those in Pune. The “dome” in the centre (Fig , left) has pedestals with the lotus petals turned downwards – seen most prominently in the centre of the figure -- which is characteristic of capitals of Asoka-Buddhist pillars (fig 4 left, inset). I have not noticed such “bell-shaped” “inverted” lotus petals in temples around Pune. But they have been around since Ashoka’s time, probably carved from wood even before that time when it served as a symbol for Buddha’s birth. Ashoka cast his pillars with Persian craftsmen used to working with stone since he desired permanence of his edicts inscribed on them “… as long as the moon and sun shall endure”. The presence of the bell-shaped structure with lions around it in the central “dome” of Fig 4 left would suggest a Saivite-Buddhist origin perhaps with a Asokan-Buddhist influence (or vice-versa).

The “dome” at the extreme left (Fig 3) has the most complex stucco decorations (Fig 5). A closer look (close-ups are shown in Fig ) at the “dome” on the left shows that the minarets have intricate workmanship characteristic of Islamic geometrical patterns. Such decorations are absent on the minarets of the other two main domes (Fig 4). It is possible that before the geometrical stucco work was carried out, the walls of the square or octagonal shaped minarets would have had painted decorations which have since been washed away.

A characteristic geometrical pattern is on the top border of the stone base. In Fig 3 the pattern is made from cement and must be a recent addition. The basic pattern of the border manifests itself in several ways in temples all around Pune. This pattern could have emerged from the most simple considerations of brick-laying as in fig 6a. This pattern is on the walls of Akbar’s tomb in Sikandara (fig 6b), on the walls of a house near trishundiya ganapathi temple (fig 6e) and on the walls of its sanctum sanctorum, starts developing intricacies in fig 6d (border of the stone structure in fig left) to the right and becomes more intricate in Saswad (fig 6c). Variations of the basic pattern is present on the minarets (see the patterns at the top in Fig 5). I am not aware (limited awarness, of course) of the existence of such patterns in ancient Indian (Buddhist) or Tibetan work. It does not seem to be there in the Tajmahal decorations (see Raghu Rai’s Taj Mahal).

I was reminded of Escher’s description of Islamic art: “Moors were masters in the art of filling a plane with similar interlocking figures, bordering one another without gaps. … … What a pity that the religion of the Moors forbade them to make images…” when writing about “Regular Divisions of the Plane III” (part of which is shown in left of Figure 7). The border of the stone structure is reminiscent of Escher’s drawings themselves. “Day and Night” (1938) in which he “…tried, almost without knowing what I was doing, to fit together congruent shapes that I attempted to give the form of animals.” Escher had made one of his more keen perceptions when he said “… is not one led naturally to a subject such as Day and Night by the double function of the black and the white motifs? It is night when the white as an object, shows up against the black as a background, and day when the black figures show up against the white.” The raised/lowered pattern in the border of the stone structure has this day-and-night character.

The sculptures of man and gods and animals decorate the minaretted-structures and give them the domes the required life. I have no idea of how the images developed, whether the geometrical pattern came first and the images later. Nor am I sure whether the craftsmen were actual artists or just masons who filled the gap. Some of the non-geometrical images are shown in Fig 8.

Extended and repetitive geometrical patterns which fill space are disorder- or entropy-less space requiring considerable regimentation without scope of further experiment to grow. It is lifeless because it is predictable. It is not at the heart of the true Indian spirit shaped by the abundant influence of nature which has its own proclivity for not cloning itself. We do not like to mass manufacture. I have a suspicion that the native (aadivasi in the true meaning of the word) Indian artist would have been perfectly happy with Penrose tiling. Like Penrose they must have looked for a tessellation of tiles of fixed shapes that would cover a surface but would not repeat itself. Unlike Penrose, the stucco craftsmen may not have had the time nor a parent interested in these things. So they would have taken a geometrical pattern and must have deliberately avoided repeating the pattern by filling it with images of animals and gods and other shapes without requiring to preserved the geometrical pattern ad nauseum.

The stucco work on the main “domes” gets blocked from view as one approaches the temple. It reappears in another avatar as one climbs the steps to get inside the temple.

The entrance to this temple is separated from the main stone-walled structure on the left (of Fig 2) by a small gap which is just big enough for one to walk through. The minars are no longer emphasized (see Fig 2 right) on the structure on the other side. Instead there are rectangular brackets on the wall on which some figures are sculpted out (Fig 9) from the scutto material which cover the stone-work. These figures have their basic shapes simply to indicate what they could be. There seems to be a use of pre-cast faces so that one makes out from the body who the figure is supposed to represent. The masks themselves seem to be of uncertain ethnic origin and bear little resemblance to the figures in Yadav period temples such as those in Saswad. The main emphasis seems to be on the painted figure with emphasis on the paint rather than the painting. There is a co-existence of Vishnu avatars such as Narasimha and Durga.

The image of Durga (Fig 9 right) herself is rather peculiar. All the hand holding knives and swords seem to be right-handed in the way they hold the swords, irrespective of the side these hands are actually in. The lion is not seen prominently. The lion seems to be a small figure on the left bottom corner nibbling at the buffalo’s rump. Durga does not seem to be riding the lion; instead she seems to be holding it by its tail. This is a peculiar feature of early Durga stone-work from south-east Asia. We don’t know if the buffalo’s head is severed from the body. The buffalo seems to be quite puzzled himself. There seems to be no ethnic difference between the mask used for the rakshasa being slaughtered and other faces. It is not clear whether Durga is wearing a sari, or a blouse, skirt and dupatta. She does show considerable strength, anyway.

The entrance to the temple has two pillars on either side. Each of these pillars have two brackets for figures on each side. Durga (Fig 9) is the figure on the lower bracket on one side. A prominent figure in the lower slab or bracket is that of Vishnu (or so it would seem) resting on a (vertically) coiled snake with five human heads. Would that be some revenge of the stucco craftsman aimed at his supervisors? The figure resting on the snake has a head-gear that one could associate with Vishnu. There is no sign of Brahma emerging from a lotus flower on Vishnu’s navel although there seems to be a flower in line with his navel. The lady at Vishnu’s feet (Laxmi? Sridevi?) wears apparel and ear-rings in a style similar to that of Durga.

The main “dome” of the Bhuleshwar structure (Fig 3, Fig 10 left) also has a figure resting on a (horizontally) coiled snake. The face of Vishnu, however, is more tribal with large ear-rings. There seems to be a semblance of a moustache (quite unlike Vishnu). The snake has five snake-like heads. Whether Vishnu’s snake, Ananthasesha, should have five or more heads is not clear. The image of Vishnu-Narayana at Mamallapuram near Chennai has a five-headed Anantha sesha serpent. A five-headed snake is connected with a Shaivite-Buddhist transformation. A five-headed serpent is thought to represent the fire-spirit and a five-headed snake inhabits the fire-shrine. Buddha is said to have performed a miracle in such a fire-shrine that converted thousand Vedic (read Brahmin) fire-worshippers. This is depicted on the east gate of the Sanchi stupa in which the sacred fire, represented by the five-headed serpent, is protected by hermits. The heavenly serpent is symbolized in Indian images by lines of gold representing lightning. A brass statue of Buddha kept in Ceylon shows the Buddha seated on Mucalinda serpent (see Frontispiece of A Handbook of Indian Art, E. B. Havell, John Murray, London, 1920) with five branches on the hood of the snake representing five rays of light emerging from his head.

So where is the lady Ganapathi? I must say that, because of this interest in the feminine ganapathi, we ignored many things we should not have ignored. There was little evidence for a prominent role of a female ganapathi in any case in the masonry. It was after we had explored the temple complex inside (where we found the female ganapathi displayed on the internet) and outside (with its masonry work, where a male ganapathi is prominent, Fig 11 left) and then went around looking for left-overs that we found what looked like a female ganapathi (Fig 11, right) not only because of what looked like her breasts, and the jewels around her, but also because of what looked like a bindi on her forehead. The fact that it was a female ganapathi was obtained from photo (inset of fig 11) from a web site "Images of Himalayas, Sahyadri Mountains And India Tourism". Both these ganapthis did not have the mudras or whip that one associates with (what we think should be) the traditional ganapathi posture. Both the four-armed ganapathis held an axe with one right hand while the other mudra-less right hand rested on the right thigh. Both the ganapathis had a snake (cobra) as a waist band. Both the ganapathis had one left hand to feed him/herself with his/her trunk (that’s the kind of ganapathi we love to love). The male ganapathi had one left hand filled with sweets while the lady ganapathi had one empty left hand in a twisted position.

But why was the lady ganapathi hidden from view? Was it just another example of gender bias? It is well known in the internet that Ganesha as we know is not confined to India alone. There are different versions of the Ganesha although most of them have attributes similar to the Indian Ganesha. Strangely, stone representation of Ganesha appears (as per the internet) in China around the middle of the sixth century and in Japan around the beginning of the eighth century. It is possible that Ganesha may have originated elsewhere, say, in Tibet, and then traveled to different countries around the same time.

It turns out that a female ganapathi is known in China and Japan as part of an embracing couple Daiboujin (“great wild god” who is the eldest son of Daijizaiten an avatar of Shiva) and Kannon Bosatsu who tamed Daijizaiten and converted him to Buddhism. These two embracing figures (some are shown in Fig 12) are known as Kankiten and are supposed to represent happy conjugal relationship. The lady ganapathi has her head covered and when embracing she is shown standing on the foot of the male counterpart. The images of the embracing couple is often more sexually implicit than that shown in Fig 12. Because of this sexual explicitness the figures (nearly 250 of them in various temples in Japan) are hidden from public so they are thought to be secrets.

This first impression of the Bhuleshwar mandir, inconclusive as it is and as it would be for some time to come, does take one away from the ordinary and the mundane. It would require some cynicism to write this temple off as unimportant or to say that there are more important temples to study, as some learned architects and scholars would want me to believe. The fashionably and up-worldly mobile look for the midas touch to load their purse. There is lot to be gained, however, for the soul to stay in touch with and be richened by the ordinary. I am reminded of my first (and last) talk before modern-day environmentalists. I spoke on why saving a toad is an integral path of saving a tiger; and why deforestation can be initiated by saving the shrubs and weeds which eventually helps to save the trees. Nobody cared. Maybe, studying the lives of ordinary people and their remote temples such as Bhuleshwar gives you important insights into hiding female ganapathis. Maybe we have done it so well we cannot see them. Maybe female ganapathi suggests happy hidden conjugal relationships?