
Melissa Enderle's travelblog on her travels to Mali, Tunisia, Serbia, Eastern Europe, India, South Korea, China, and other places around the world.

Built in 1146-1173 by the Chola leader King Rajaraja II, this temple may be small in size but its beauty equals that of Thanjuvur and other Tamil temples. Walking past the kids playing soccer on the green grass outside of the temple’s high walls, we reached the large gopura gateway set a meter below ground. The large door was closed, but a small sub-door was open. Through it I saw a woman taking a nap. As I was about to walk through it, she woke up and opened up the larger door. Placing our shoes off to the side (all temples require you to remove your shoes), we entered the courtyard. Off to one side we could see a few men and a couple of women engaged in construction work. It was reassuring to see maintenance and restoration efforts taking place. Some wore sandals or flip-flops, while others carried on their work in bare feet. The women wore saris and the men had dhothis tied around their waist.
First we visited the mandapa, climbing up the stairs to reach the open porch. Each square pillar was filled with relief carvings of various sizes, from the top to the bottom. The bottoms of the pillars on the outside consisted of a rather large mythical creature that had the face of an elephant, horns of a goat, and body of a lion. Dancers and musicians, along with the usual gods and goddesses were common themes on the pillars. Even the stone ceiling was decorated with swirling designs, flowers, and dancers. One row of pillars led to the inner sanctuary, guarded by two sari-clad sculptures and a Nandi facing the dark interior. Along the wall I saw some fine figurative sculptures made in black basalt including images of various gods and goddesses.
Back down the steps, I pointed out that the mandapa was in the shape of a chariot, pulled by horses and behind these rearing creatures a wheel. An elephant was on the other corner of the stairwell, perhaps also pulling the chariot. Along the sides of the main temple one could see sculptures in niches and frescoes of other figures. Red appeared to be the dominant color, but green and gold were also visible. How beautiful must this temple have been at one time! Up higher, one could see a profusion of sculptures of figures, including some that looked more demon-like. Although mostly the color of the original stone, patches of faded color still remained here as well. Near the base of the temple, dancers appeared in motion, swaying to the music. Along a smaller stairway I saw a clever motif in which the head of an elephant morphed into that of a bull.
Throughout the day we would pass through many small towns and villages, each bustling with life and commerce. Piles of rope made from coconut fibers were coiled next to small shacks ready to be sold. Coffee stands abounded, gathering a large number of regular patrons who congregated and used it as an opportunity to chat and catch up on the latest news. Bollywood and Kollywood posters were plastered over walls. Painted sides of buildings and walls advertised underwear, cement, silk saris, and more. Some buildings were constructed with cement sides and thatched roofs. Women braided each other’s hair (or picked out lice) alongside the road. Children ran out of thatched huts wearing only a top. Colorful kolams decorated the entryways to homes and businesses. Women pounded and rung cloth over the washing stones, laying out the laundry on the grass, over walls, fences, or over string. Chilies lay drying in the sun, carefully arranged on a piece of cloth. Cows ambled about, eating garbage, sitting on the road, or pausing wherever they felt like it. When the road paralleled a river, we could see people using the river to bathe, wash clothes, clean pots & pans, and wash their hair. Long steps leading down to the river right next to the homes indicated that in these villages, such rituals were a part of daily life.
Hungry after our visit to Auroville, we had the driver drop us off at La Terrace restaurant in Pondicherry. Knowing that most of the meals we would have on the trip would likely be Indian, I chose to order a pizza. Refreshed once again, we walked along Pondicherry’s seafront. Closer to the road, a promenade was available. Or, one could walk on the sand. Waves crashed up onto the large black rectangular rocks, occasionally sending fine saltwater sprays up by us. Ice cream vendors with their pink bicycle-style carts dotted the sand, as did fruit sellers, those selling cotton candy, legumes, and even pinwheels. Health-conscious eaters could even buy peeled cucumbers from a sari-clad woman. People were strolling along, some holding hands. One young couple sat quite intimately and close to each other near the top of the rock embankment – a scene not very common in South India. Women in saris & jasmine in their hair seemed mesmerized by the waves. Kids eagerly licked their ice cream bars, only to find it dripping down on the sand moments later. About halfway down was the black Gandhi memorial statue. Kids climbed up the marble ramp to reach the statue, climbing over its feet, posing by the statue, and then sliding down the ramp.
From there, we headed into the French Quarter and proceeded towards the Ashram. Seeing the long lines, we decided to skip that visit. We walked to the gate of the paper factory, but found that it was closed as it was Christmas. Nearby vendors were selling clay figures, ghee lamps, and small clay bowls in carts. Racks of clothing made for export but perhaps with slight imperfections were being sold at cheap prices. Trying on the clothing wasn’t possible, but the seller with a tape measure could give you a fairly good idea if it would fit. Back on the main streets of the Indian section, we saw men ironing clothes, others making fried foods, selling bananas, and people generally going about their daily chores. Right across the street from the Immaculate Conception church, women set up brightly painted nativity scene figures for sale.
That evening, we once again went out for a walk. Lights illuminated the several churches in the town. Large colorful stars cast tinted light on carved household doors revealing Christian symbols. Others were placed in front of businesses, hotels, etc. Several of the churches were going to hold midnight Mass (albeit in Tamil), but already there were many people inside, quietly meditating or going up to the statues of flower-adorned Mary or Jesus. Huge sprays of flowers adorned the altar area. Outside one church, the figure of baby Jesus was now in its cradle, signifying that Christ was now born. Walking past a smaller church, we noticed that there were events going on in its front area. We were invited to come in and watch the festivities. First, some young men tried their hand at “hit the pot,” in which the blindfolded, spun-around individual attempted to use the stick to locate and break the clay pot hung from a high string. Only a short amount of time was given and only one strike allowed. One man did succeed at hitting the pot and was rewarded by getting wet from the water-filled pot. Giggling and laughs filled the air. After that two rounds of “musical chairs” were played, first by women aged 35 and up and then by the men. After some women were finally cajoled to come over and participate, it was quite amusing to see how some acted like shy schoolgirls as they attempted to scramble for a chair while in their saris and then giggle when eliminated. After a tasty treat at a small chocolate shop, we headed back to the hotel and enjoyed a movie and chatted.
From the end of the path, we had a good view of the Matrimandir, a gold-colored spherical structure described by some as a golf ball. To me, it looked like the toy that has suction cups all over it. Men were mowing the perfectly manicured lawn, some using push mowers and others using riding ones. Some of the twelve planned gardens were underway, but the project was not completed. As our visit did not permit us to go closer and enter the structure, we had to rely on the images included in the video that described the interior as an air-conditioned white marble meditation room with a spiraling ramp leading up to the center with a 70 cm crystal ball glowing as sunlight hit it.
After supper including a lassi at the restaurant I had visited on my last excursion to Pondy, we headed into the quieter French Quarter. Colored kolams, some with a Christmas message were in front of a few places. Large colorful stars illuminated the doorways of many homes and businesses. Ahead of us, the Immaculate Conception Church glowed in the clear dark sky, all lit up for Christmas. Here too they were preparing for midnight Mass. Music was playing. In the courtyard of the church was a Nativity scene illuminated by nearby candles. The manger was empty, with the figure of Jesus to be added on Christmas Day. We entered a grocery store to buy water and were greeted by a Santa with plastic mask handing out inexpensive chocolate. For entertainment that evening, we watched The Muppet Christmas Carol DVD on my computer. Our first of many days of adventure had now drawn to a close.
Located about 58 km (36 mi) south of Chennai right off the ECR road was Mahabalipuram. I had already visited Mahabalipuram before, but still couldn’t help but be awed by the rock-cut temple architecture built by the Pallavas between the 5th and 9th centuries. What dedication it must have taken to carve such hard granite structures (and some without an apparent purpose), many of which were carved from single stones. The pleasant temperatures made it enjoyable walking along the paths and climbing up rocks to reach the structures. Chipmunks scurried about structures, climbing on top of their stone sculptures of gods. Newborn puppies whimpered quietly near a temple with a prominent Shiva linga in the shape of the male body part. Goats scampered down granite rocks and over to some plants. Under the massive boulder known as Krishna’s Butterball, goats lazed in the shade.
Walking back down the stairs, I proceeded to wander through the streets. At first I was fairly close to the walls of the mosque. Wanting to explore more intimate alleys, I headed just a bit away and soon found myself in narrow alleys, some of which had dead ends. Here I found some beautiful doors and windows – along with rubbish, etc. Kids in their school uniforms smiled shyly as I passed by. Having a fairly good sense of direction, I was able to correctly make my way back to larger streets. Here things already were abuzz with activity. Muslim fried breakfast foods were being fried in large woks. Meat was being chopped on platforms outside of narrow stalls. Legs of goats were piled up, ready for sale. Rice was being weighed on a scale, dished out to hungry customers. Produce was being laid out ready for the morning sales. Children wearing bright uniforms and matching winter hats walked as small groups in the street, eager to have their photos taken. Other kids were working in the stalls or pushing carts. While walking along, people stopped me and asked if I would take their photo, to which I always obliged. It is so satisfying to see their joy and excitement as I show the photo to them and others around them. Meeting such local people is always one of my favorite parts of traveling. Alas, it was time to head over to the train station. A short auto rickshaw ride later, I was on the platform for the train headed to Delhi. A three hour ride to Delhi and then a plane ride back to Chennai, my trip was almost finished.
Having read about Agra’s textile arts known as zari (elaborate gold thread embroidery) and bead embroidery (known as zardozi), I asked to visit a place where this craft was being demonstrated. Literally meaning “sewing with gold,” zardozi was a prospering craft during Akbar’s time but gradually declined. Older saris of Chennai used this same technique with gold-covered thread, making such saris very valuable. During Akbar’s time, costumes, walls of tents, wall hangings, and coverings for horses and elephants all employed this technique. Intricate patterns were traced in gold and silver, studded with pearls and precious stones. These were sewn on silk, velvet, and brocade. Today zardozi threads consist of copper wire with a golden sheen or use gold-colored silk thread. In the shop (mainly for sale), a young man (this craft is done predominantly by Muslim men) was using colored silk thread to embroider silk thread flower designs for evening purses. Displayed on the wall were several masterpieces created by a man who is credited to reviving the craft in Agra. One was a floral design created with colored silk threads, outlined with the gold thread, and studded with precious and semi-precious stones and gems. Another comprised of several birds, while a third was of a hunting scene. Unlike most designs of today, these pieces get their dimensionality not by adding thick cotton threads or stuffing, but by painstakingly layering on silk threads, one over the other until the desired height and shape is achieved.
The Florentine technique of pietra dura was imported by the Emperor Jahangir and developed in Agra as pachikari. Today in Agra, craftsmen continue this technique. One could observe workers shaping slivers of precious and semi-precious stones on a vertical stone, rotated with a rope attached to a stick. Some of the pieces are so small that the process must be done solely with a sense of touch. These pieces are then fitted into the carved indentations of marble and adhered with natural glue. For the right amount of money, one could walk away with incredible tabletops of varying sizes and shapes, boxes, coasters, sculptures, and decorative items. The revival of this craft employs many people in Agra, partially compensating for the shutdown of industries in the city in hopes to stop the polluting yellowing of its most famous landmark.
Another UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Agra Fort was built between 1565 and 1573 by the Emperor Akbar, who also built Fatehpur Sikri. The enormous complex is also built of red sandstone. The entryway was rather unique. Instead of a straight, flat drawbridge entrance, the Agra Fort employed a slight ascent and a 90° turn between the outer and inner gates. This made it impossible for elephants (used in attacks) to gain momentum. A deep moat, once containing water, surrounds the walled fort. Much has changed since Akbar built the fort. His grandson Shah Jahan (who built the Taj Mahal) tore down many buildings and replaced them with more opulent ones, including some made from white marble and inlaid with semi-precious stones. The British also made some additions in the 19th century, when they used some areas for barracks. From the marbled double-storeyed octagonal tower called the Sheesh Mahal, Shah Jahan was placed under house arrest by his son. From the tower one has a clear view of the Taj. It is here that Akbar spent his last 7 years of his life.