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Before the sun rises
over the Bay of Bengal, Chennai is almost gentle and heading
out on the Bangalore road in the tidy by increasingly vulnerable
Ambassador (that is, Morris Oxford) it was obvious a few people
have discovered the joys of the pre-dawn. A gentle, cooling
breeze wafts in and the land has yet to suck up the heat that,
by 10 am will leave you roasting.
Kancheepuramhar is about 60 kilometres out from Chennai and
famous for its 2000 year old Hindu temples, and for its silk
shops. Its odd how in the West Hindu temples are shown as
spooky, strange places; Indiana Jones always seemed to be
lost inside a snake infested temple or two. They are not at
all menacing and equally they are not particularly quiet places
either. If India has one overwhelming problem its people,
over a billion of them, and inevitably even temples end up
having big crowds.
Seven thirty at Kancheepuramhar though was relatively calm
and the first temple. Three temple elephants were being prepared
for the morning duties. Walking toward one it turned to me
and lifted its trunk, bringing it gently down on my head and
softly blessing me. A moving experience.
The area features numerous temples and most of them let Non-Hindus
in through the gates, but deny entry to the inner part of
the temple. It barely matters though because there is much
to see within the compounds, including extraordinary art carved
out of big chunks of granite.
No one is sure how long each would have taken to carve - years
probably. No one knows either how many unsuccessful attempts
were executed before a perfect pillar or panel could be put
in place. Early Indian rulers were unrivalled patrons of the
arts.
At one temple I was not allowed into the inner part of it,
and an old soldier on guard duty engaged me in a conversation.
"I am 88 years old," he said. I could believe it.
"I fight against Japan and China."
Probably did. He wanted his photo taken and in exchange he
suddenly grabbed my hand for his great party trick. Near his
guard position was a terrifically graphic piece of ancient
pornography, while up some steps and kind of out of the way,
a particularly descriptive rendition of oral sex. Plainly
this is reserved for we Western men. Its hard to fathom what
modern Hindus think of it all; one suspects that in the overload
of art and carving, some of the stuff is quite unnoticed.
Some of the more extreme Hindu groups would probably smash
it up now.
Silk shops cannot be avoid - like the endless handicraft shops
of the cities. Something is currently wrong in the sari world;
its overrun with polyester and garish designs. One shop was
selling saris with Bollywood stars embroidered into its edgings.
Superstar teeshirts is one thing; saris?
Few western tourists seem to make it to Kancheepuramhar but
busloads a minute of Hindu devotees from all over south India
pour in. They have to be fed and the town is full of strictly
non-vegetarian restaurants which offer an alluring piece of
discrimination; good meals in non-a/c, or good meals, slighly
more pricey, in air conditioning.
Coffee is served in a traditional south Indian fashion. After
it is filtered in the little stainless steel filters, you
get it boiling hot in milk. The coffee is in one steel cup
sitting in another steel bowl. To drink it you pour it back
and fourth between the two vessels, getting air into the coffee
and cooling it at the same time.
The other great treat is lassi - a kind of millkshake drink
made out of curds and assorted bits and pieces. Highly fattening
and completely addictive.
On May 24, 1991, at Sriperumbudur, between Kancheepuramhar
and Chennai, Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated
by a Sri Lankan suicide bomber. The place where the woman
bent over, seemingly to touch Gandhi's feet, is now marked
with a red piece of granite. The whole place is beautiful
and little visited, but poignant and lost.
Indians get so upset at the indulgence of Americans who seem
to feel they are the only people around to suffer the impact
of terrorism. Indians have known it for much longer and for
so long the west has turned a blind eye to those who carry
out these deeds against Indians.
The monument to Rajiv Gandhi is a sober reminder of that.
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